Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Any recognizable characters and dialogue from Newsies belong to Disney and not to me.

It was 4:00 a.m., and Race was bored out of his mind.

True to his word, Davey had woken him up to take his turn at watch, then had settled back into the passenger seat of the van and fallen asleep almost immediately. How he could sleep sitting upright was a mystery to Race.

His phone's battery had died almost an hour ago, and Race regretted not remembering to charge it during the day. He worked on rearranging the furniture in the back of the van, putting the luggage further towards the back of the cargo space and moving the Kellys' items closer to the front for easier unloading. Fortunately, Davey seemed to be tired out from the previous day's events and was in a deep sleep (Race could have held a hoe-down in the back of the van, and the other boy would have been none the wiser). Now that the task of rearranging the cargo area was finished, he was itching to find some other way to channel his antsy energy.

His eyes fell upon the emergency supply bag Davey had packed. Race unzipped it, curious to see what kind of outlandish items his traveling partner had deemed necessary to bring along in an already crowded moving van. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would find something in there to help him pass the time...

Davey awoke to find himself duct-taped to the passenger seat of the moving van. He wasn't sure if it was preferable to waking up to Race's alarm clock or not.

"Race..." he called out of the half-opened window. "Real funny, alright? You got me. And you know, this duct tape was actually supposed to be used for emergencies."

There was no answer.

"Race?" Davey twisted his head, trying to look around. It was clearly still early in the morning; faint streaks of sunlight had begun to illuminate the sky, but all around was the hushed stillness of night just turning into day.

Davey called for Race a third time, but again received no answer. He was just beginning to get a little anxious, when a familiar grinning face popped up at the driver's side window.

"Mornin' Davey!" Race said cheekily. "You sure was out like a light last night! Sleep well?" He opened the door and jumped into the driver's seat.

"Well enough," Davey replied as patiently as he could. He was really not in the mood for more of Race's pranking, but reminded himself that it was the last day of the trip, and that he could endure this for a bit longer.

"Okay, you've had your laugh," he conceded, opening his hands in as much of a gesture of supplication as his bonds would allow. "How about letting a pal go?"

"Nah," Race said teasingly. "Just think of it this way, if we get into an accident, you's gonna be extra secure."

"And if the van catches on fire, I'll be dead," Davey retorted.

"Ah, lighten up, Dave, no one's gonna die." Race grinned, snapping his seatbelt into place and turning the key in the ignition. He pulled the van out of its spot and headed towards the service station at the end of the road. It was only a short distance away, so he'd let Davey agonize for a bit before cutting him loose after the van had been filled up.

Race reached into the compartment where he usually kept his Pop-Tarts, intending to pull out a toaster pastry for the road, but to his surprise, his hand closed around empty space. Glancing down at the niche, Race was dismayed to find that it was, indeed, bare.

"That's strange," he muttered. He was sure he'd had two more packages left in that box when they'd left the van at the auto shop. Reaching over to his duffel bag, which he'd left up front, he unzipped it and began digging through the contents with one hand, trying to keep an eye on the road ahead. He was positive that he had at least one unopened box buried at the bottom of his bag. But to his surprise, his search yielded nothing. What in the world...

"Missing something?" Davey asked cooly.

Race's eyes narrowed, realization dawning upon him as his eyes darted immediately from his duffel bag to the self-satisfied look on his traveling partner's face. "Davey Jacobs, you wouldn't dare…"

"You're not the only one who got bored last night, Race," Davey replied indifferently.

Race pulled into the gas station's parking lot. He searched the cab of the van. He opened up the cargo space. "They're not in my luggage," Davey called, "so don't bother looking in there." Race didn't listen, but after performing a thorough search of Davey's suitcase, grudgingly admitted that the other boy had been telling the truth. He searched over, under, and around the Kellys' furniture and boxes. He even looked underneath the van, below the hood, and on top of the roof. No sign of the missing Pop-Tarts. After several minutes, Race came stalking back to the front seat.

"Where are they?" he growled.

"Not telling," Davey replied. "If you want to cut me loose, maybe a compromise could be arranged, but until then…" he shrugged.

"I can't function without my Pop-Tarts," Race whined.

"And let me remind you that I'm going without my morning coffee," said Davey. "So don't expect any sympathy from me."

Race gave him a menacing look, but retrieved a pair of scissors from the emergency bag and did as requested. "Alright," he said impatiently, returning the scissors to the bag. "Where'd you hide them?"

Davey thrust a wad of bills at him. "Here's cash for the fill up. Go inside and pay for the gas, and when you get back, your Pop-Tarts will be here."

Grumbling under his breath, Race did as he was told. After paying at the service station's window, he walked back to the van, where Davey was already cleaning the windshield in anticipation of driving the next leg of the trip.

Race filled up the van, then tapped Davey on the shoulder. "Okay, Dave. Enough playing around," he said curtly. "Where'd ya put my Pop-Tarts?"

"See for yourself," the other boy replied, opening the passenger door. Race peered inside the cab. Sitting neatly on the dashboard were eight shiny silver packages. Race's mouth fell open in disbelief. Every single one of them was there.

He turned to Davey accusingly. "How'd you do that? I searched this entire van and I know they wasn't here." His eyes narrowed. "You some kinda magician or somethin'?

Davey only held out his hand. "Keys?"

Race handed them over, still in disbelief.

"What's the matter, Race?" Davey asked. "You think you're the only one who can pull off a practical joke?"

For once, Race had no answer for him.

"Oh, and for the record," Davey added, "I knew it was you."

"What'cha talkin' about?" Race asked, still floundering.

"That one time with the skunk. And the shaving cream." Davey jabbed his finger into Race's chest. "You." And he turned on his heel, leaving Race floored at the revelation that maybe Jack's old roommate wasn't as dense as he'd thought after all.

Even with Davey driving for the final leg of the trip, they made good time. It wasn't a particularly talkative ride for the first hour or two, Davey clearly feeling the effects of caffeine withdrawal, and Race still mulling things over as he chewed on his recovered Pop-Tarts.

An almost palpable feeling of relief descended once they had crossed the border into New Mexico. With only a few hours of driving left until they reached Santa Fe, Davey loosened up a bit, feeling less anxious now that they were on the home stretch. (He hadn't been joking when he'd told Race that he'd had about all the "fun" he could handle on this trip). Eager to reach their destination, he drove Rachelle at a more rapid pace than usual, much to Race's delight.

"Now you's gettin' the hang of this drivin' thing, Davey," he said approvingly. "A pity you didn't figure it out till we's almost to Santa Fe."

"You know, Race, after all we've been through, I think I would consider you the less qualified of the two of us to remark on anyone's driving proficiency," Davey replied caustically, his coffee-less state rendering him even more sarcastically verbose than usual. "But after I've driven on an unauthorized part of the highway, nearly rear-ended another car, and practically wrecked the van, I'll gladly hear your opinion."

Race grinned, Davey's verbal barbs glancing off harmlessly. "We sure is gonna miss this sourpuss and his slow drivin', ain't we, Rachelle?" he said aloud. In a burst of inspiration, he began singing cheekily in three-quarter time:

"Nooooooo onnnnne's….paced like this one,

Won't make haste like this one,

No one's lackin' in musical taste like this one.

It don't matter if it's Schwartz or Menken,

Play it: he won't be impressed.

But he'll lecture and scold about cleanness.

Try to swim in a pool and just watch him protest!

"No one churns like this one

Out sick burns like this one

Constantly dishin' snarky returns like this one

But he ain't always quick on the uptake -

Gullible to the extreme!

You can dupe him without any effort;

Just proffer some pie and you'll see what I mean - "

"I'm flattered, Race, really," Davey cut in dryly. "But as much as I love hearing you extol my many virtues, I think I'd actually prefer listening to one of your cast recordings."

"Your wish...is my command!" Race gave a theatrical half-bow, pleased at having gotten his traveling partner to actually request his music for the third or fourth time on the trip. Just watch, Davey, he grinned, I'll have you beggin' me to play this stuff by the time we get back to Manhattan.

"Now then," he said, pulling out his phone. "Mamma Mia, or Cats?"

The pulled into the driveway of the Kellys' home in the early afternoon, a full day later than originally expected, but none the worse for wear (though Race, by this time, was all out of Pop-Tarts, and the coffee-deprived Davey all out of words).

"Cute little place," Race remarked, taking in the single-family unit with its fresh coat of paint and desert landscaping. "It ain't no New York City penthouse, but it seems fittin' for Jacky and Kath."

No sooner had Davey put the van in park, when Katherine came out the front door, waving and smiling brightly at them. She was followed closely by a relieved-looking Jack. "Welcome to Santa Fe!" Katherine greeted them, pulling first Race, and then Davey, into a hug. "We're so glad you made it safely."

"Yeah, you bummers had us a little worried," Jack said, smiling and clapping Race on the back. "I'll definitely rest easier tonight knowin' you two is finally here." He turned his attention to Davey, holding out a tall paper cup. "Here, Dave," he said. "Racer texted and warned me that you didn't stop for coffee this mornin.'" Taking the cup and mumbling his thanks, Davey trudged over to a bench sitting outside the front door of the house and collapsed onto it to nurse his drink.

"So," Katherine gave Race a curious look, "from what Jack's been telling me, it sounds like you've had quite the adventure."

"Ah, yes." Race gave Jack a sidelong glance, digging his hands into his pockets and fidgeting uncomfortably. "Did he, uh, happen to mention anything...specific?"

"Well…" Katherine considered a moment before replying, "he did say something about my grandmother's china getting smashed en route - "

Race cringed. "Geez, Kath, I'm so sorry," he apologized. "I'll make it up to you, somehow." To his surprise, Katherine only laughed.

"There's no need! I actually never liked the pattern anyway, and now I won't have to think of an excuse for why I never use that set."

Race sagged in relief. "For sure, Kath?" he asked. "You ain't just sayin' that to make a fella feel better?"

Katherine nodded, smiling. "For sure."

Race let out a sigh, the burden of guilt rolling off of his shoulders. Thank goodness! Almost immediately, his cocky, cheerful demeanor returned. "Way to leave out all the good parts of the story, Jacky!" he chided, giving his friend a look of mock-accusation. "I can't believe you told Kath about my screw-up, but didn't mention how I saved us from a holdup or wowed the crowds at my first solo show!"

Jack scoffed. "Well, that'd all be news to me, too, Racer. In case you forgot, you didn't exactly tell me much of anything." Leaving Race to regale Katherine with tales of their adventures, he went to go check on Davey, who was still sitting by himself on the bench, looking rather done in.

"Hey…" Jack said, plopping down next to the dark-haired boy and throwing an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to have you back."

"Shaddup," Davey muttered into his coffee.

Jack chuckled, his expression both knowing and sympathetic. His old roommate was in desperate need of a quiet evening, a room to himself, and probably another cup of coffee. Fortunately, the Kelly household could provide all three.

After a much-needed overnight stay at Jack and Katherine's, Davey and Race were on the road again the following day. They turned in the moving van (Race bidding a tearful goodbye to Rachelle) and exchanged it for a rental car, which would take them back to Manhattan.

The return trip was relatively uneventful, Davey having taken it upon himself to arrange the hotel accommodations, and Race assuming the bulk of the driving (and, naturally, the bulk of the singing). In no time, they were back in familiar territory, and Race was following Davey's directions as they made their way into the suburbs.

"Are you sure you don't mind dropping me off at my parents' place?" Davey asked for probably the hundredth time. "I know it's a little out of your way, and you're already taking the car back to the rental location."

Race waved off the other boy's concern. "Ain't a problem, Dave. I know you's anxious to see your brother."

"Well, do you want to join us for dinner, then?" Davey asked. "I'm pretty sure my parents don't keep Pop-Tarts at their place, but the food's pretty good."

"No thanks, Dave," Race replied. "I gotta be somewhere. I'll take something cold to drink, though, if you have it." At Davey's direction, he pulled into the driveway of the Jacobs' home.

Before they could start unloading the car, a bowler-wearing boy came running out of the house, shouting Davey's name and plowing into him with enough force to knock the hat off of his own head and make the older boy stagger back a few steps.

"What took you so long?" the newcomer demanded. "I've been waiting for you all afternoon!"

"Sorry, Les," Davey apologized, ruffling his brother's hair affectionately. "Race here isn't the fastest driver, so we got a little behind." Giving his traveling partner a smirk, Davey said, "Race, this is my little brother, Les." He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Les, this is Race. Keep him company for a minute, will you? I'm gonna go get him something to drink." He turned and walked into the house.

"Hey kid," Race nodded at Les. "Nice to meet ya." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Davey's retreating figure. "Your brother sure is a hoot; never met a slower driver...or a better piano player." He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "And I think he's got some kinda magical powers or somethin'..."

Les' eyes widened. "Did he make something of yours disappear?"

"How'd you know?" Race asked in surprise. Les confided that he had once had a quarter in his pocket, and Davey had made it vanish into thin air.

"He claims 'that's just stuff that happens,'" Les said, punctuating his statement with air quotes, "but I don't believe him for a second."

Before Race could voice his agreement, Davey came back out of the house with a can of soda. "Glad to see you two are getting along," he remarked, handing Race the drink.

Race winked at Les. "Yeah. This kid's a real sharp one, Davey."

"He is," Davey agreed proudly, as he unloaded his luggage from the car. After checking to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, he turned to Race. "Hey, are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" he offered again. "Our folks really won't mind."

"Mom's an awesome cook!" Les added.

"Nah," Race shook his head. "I gotta be hittin' the road. But thanks all the same."

Davey nodded. "If you're sure." He stuck out his hand. "Well, see you around, Race. Thanks for taking the car back." Race shook Davey's hand, surprised at the little pang of sadness he felt now that this handshake officially marked the end of their road trip. Covering his dismay with a grin, Race gave the Jacobs brothers a little farewell salute, then walked over to the rental car and got in.

What was there to be sad about? he wondered, as he turned the key in the ignition. It was just Davey Jacobs: uptight, rule-following, no-fun Davey Jacobs. Jack's roommate, Davey Jacobs, who had only seen one musical in his life and who was deathly afraid of the water in hotel pools. Boring ol' Davey Jacobs who talked in his sleep and was a complete zombie until he'd had his morning coffee...who somehow knew to exactly what to pack so that they'd have everything they needed for their trip, who took the time to help his little brother on his school presentations, who secretly loved the spotlight, and who hadn't lost his temper with Race, even when the latter's thoughtlessness had landed both boys in trouble. That Davey Jacobs. A puzzlement.

Race shook his head, frowning. He was turning into a regular sap. Shifting the car into reverse, he backed out of the driveway and headed down the road.

Epilogue

They didn't see each other again for almost two months. Summer turned into fall. Race called the talent scout Bryan Denton, and with the man's professional assistance, became quite busy with auditions and invitations to guest perform at different venues around town. Davey, Race assumed, was either busy with his graduate school classes or doing whatever else one did with a big brain and a biochemistry degree. They seemed to be drifting into different orbits again, their thin connection dwindling even further now that Jack was no longer in the picture.

Then, one morning, Race noticed a familiar figure sitting at one of the corner tables of Stumptown Coffee Roasters, engrossed in a book with his ever-present thermos of java beside him.

Race sauntered over to the table.

"Well, if it ain't Davey Jacobs, joinin' the land of the livin.'" Davey looked up in surprise, and Race made a show of checking his watch. "It ain't even 9:00 in the morning yet!" he exclaimed, feigning concern. "You feelin' okay?"

Davey laughed. "I guess it is early for me. Ever since we got back from that road trip, I haven't been able to sleep in as late as I used to. The lingering effects of your alarm, I suppose." He motioned to the empty seat beside him. "Want to sit?"

Race dropped into the chair as Davey closed his book. "So, how have you been, Race?" he asked cordially. "I thought I saw you in a promotional ad for some kind of cabaret show last week."

"Yeah, Denton's got a lot of connections," Race replied. "It's been busy - can't complain." He gestured to the other boy. "What about you?"

"Well, classes just started," Davey said. "And I've been putting in a few hours a week at the lab, trying to keep a foot in the research world as much as I can. It's great - stimulating and really interesting, and everyone's so focused and professional…" he trailed off, looking a little wistful. "But I have to admit, I miss the camaraderie of our undergrad days."

Race gave him a half smile. "Guess it ain't the same without Jacky here, huh?" he asked.

"No, it's not," Davey agreed. "I miss him. And Katherine, too."

A thoughtful silence settled between them.

"I've...uh...started listening to the Newsies cast recording," Davey offered, finally breaking the lull in conversation. "It's actually pretty good."

"And I haven't swam in a hotel pool since we got back," Race returned, "on account of them bein' so full of germs and all." He had a slight grin on his face, and Davey suspected that the other boy was internally laughing at him, but there was no malice in it.

"That's great, Race," he said lightly. "Glad my germaphobic ways could have such an influence on you." Race gave him another good-natured smirk in reply, and the thought suddenly crossed Davey's mind that maybe he wasn't as alone in Manhattan as he'd initially felt. Race certainly wasn't Jack (there were a million and one reasons why this was true), but maybe he could still be a friend. A reckless, boisterous, sometimes-obnoxious friend...but a friend nonetheless. The thought was oddly comforting to Davey.

"So…" he ventured, looking at the other boy, "do you...want to go get something to eat?"

Race's eyes lit up, and he slung his arm around Davey's shoulders. "You bet! We gotta start plannin' our next road trip to Santa Fe."

"Hold on," Davey protested. "I didn't say that!"

But Race, as usual, paid him no mind.

THE END

A/N: Thanks for following along on this crazy detour of mine! It's been a kick to write, and I especially want to thank the reviewers who weighed in after I posted the first chapter and encouraged me to finish this. Also, thank you so much if you took the time to review or PM me about this story at any point. I've enjoyed receiving your comments on what resonated with you or what made you laugh. It's fun to be able to share our love for Newsies, musicals, and the fandom in this way, and I appreciate you taking the time to reach out!

If you enjoyed Race and Davey's friendship dynamic in this story and would like to read more of it, please check out my canon-era stories, particularly In It To Stay, Recollection, and Something Worth Winning.

'Till next time, fellow fansies!

(Final disclaimer for completeness: I do not own any of the following musicals referenced directly or indirectly in this story, including: Oklahoma!, Footloose, Anastasia, Grease, The Lion King, Hairspray, My Fair Lady, Dear Evan Hansen, Les Miserables, Frozen, The Music Man, Newsies, Hamilton, Mary Poppins, Tuck Everlasting, Beauty and the Beast, Mamma Mia!, Cats, and The King and I).