Author's Note: Whaaaaat? Is thepopcornpup FINALLY posting something again?! Yes! Sorry it's been so long, I've been very busy, and I've been using my very little free-time to make stage-door gifts for the Toursies (who I'm seeing a week! Aaahh!)

Well, I've been making gifts and obsessing over Deaf West Spring Awakening, which gave !e the inspiration to finish this story, which I actually started back in July! It's part of the Deaf!Crutchie AU created by the amazing ValandMarcelle, so...yeah! I hope you enjoy!

Davey had no clue what to make of this boy. He and Crutchie Morris had exchanged a few friendly glances and nothing more, but Davey was still plain perplexed by this kid. According to Jack, Crutchie had been deaf his whole life, and had the bum leg for most of it. On top of that, he'd just endured a stint in the Refuge, which Jack and the other boys had described as nothing short of a living hell, yet ever since he'd gotten out, Crutchie had been all smiles.

Davey watched him as he hobbled around Jacobi's as fast as he could, having snatched the hat from Romeo's head. Romeo signed something which Davey could only interpret to be something along the lines of "give it back!", to which Crutchie grinned back smugly and laughed, signing what Davey had to guess was "you've got to catch me first!"

Jack stood up and walked over to Crutchie. He tapped the younger boy and gave him a pointed look, to which Crutchie replied with a sign that, by the sheepish look on his face, Davey guessed meant, "Sorry." Davey was proved correct when Crutchie shoved that hat back on Romeo's head at a sideways angle and shot Jack an "I'm innocent!" grin.

"Dinner's served, boys!" Jacobi announced, walking into the room with a trayful of food.

"Hey, can the King Of New York get it free?" Race grinned.

"That was a week ago, kid," Jacobi said, plopping a sandwich down in front of Race. "You're old news."

"I beg to differ," Race said. "I believe you're the oldest news around here."

"With a mouth like that, you ain't getting anything free," Jacobi chuckled, walking out.

As that scene had unfolded, Davey had failed to notice that Crutchie had sat down beside him until Davey turned his head and nearly fell out of his chair, not expecting anyone else's presence. Situating himself, Davey gave Crutchie a quick wave.

Crutchie looked unsure how to respond until he spotted a pencil on the table. He swiftly picked it up and scrawled something on his napkin. Then, he slid it over to Davey, who'd been watching curiously. Taking the napkin, he read, "Sorry, looks like I scared you!"

Davey stared at the napkin, realizing this is the first thing Crutchie had actually said to him, apart from the smiles that had been exchanged whilst selling papers and such. Am I supposed to write back?

Crutchie watched him, perhaps expectantly, or just with those seemingly hyper-observant eyes of his. If there was one thing Davey did know about Crutchie, it was that he took in everything around him, letting his surroundings inform him rather than words.

Crutchie coughed, snapping Davey out of his thoughts and prompting him to realize he'd been staring at the napkin doing nothing for too long. "Oh, ah, sorry," Davey stammered. When Crutchie didn't respond, Davey mentally chided himself, He can't hear you, that's kind of the point.

After what felt like much too long, Davey wrote back, "No, I'm fine! I just didn't see you come over here, that's all."

Crutchie slid the napkin in front of him and tilted his head as he read it, a small grin appearing on his face as he did so. Then, he snatched the pencil and scribbled something before sliding it back to Davey, who caught it and read, "Jack says I got a habit of sneaking up on people! It's kinda funny watching him jump when I tap him on the shoulder or something. It's even funnier when it's Spot Conlon!"

Davey smiled involuntarily as he read this. He noticed that Crutchie's handwriting was shaky yet careful, like he'd hand-placed each letter on the page with quivering hands. He also saw that each time Crutchie thought he'd made a mistake, he'd blotted out the word and started over.

When Davey didn't respond, Crutchie grabbed the pencil again and added, "Thanks for all the help with the strike, by the way. I'd probably still be stuck in the Refuge if it weren't for you!"

Davey felt his cheeks heat up as Crutchie gave him a proud smile. Sheepishly, Davey wrote back, "Well, it wasn't all me."

Crutchie chuckled a bit as he read Davey's response before writing a reply of his own. "You're being modest, ain't you? You sure did a big part of it, and it's my job to thank you. Your name is Davey, ain't it?"

Davey nodded and, noticing they were running out of room on the napkin they'd been using, picked up another one from the pile in the center of the table and wrote, "Yeah, that's me. I've been told yours is Crutchie?"

Crutchie nodded and scrawled the rest of his answer. "That's what the guys named me. I didn't know it 'til Jack learned enough sign language to tell me, though! But, I like it better than my real name. Jack calls you The Walking Mouth sometimes. I guess you talk a lot?"

Davey laughed aloud when he read this and wrote back, "I guess I do. I say what comes to my mind, I suppose."

Soon, the conversation began to feel less like writing and more like talking. It was easy for Davey to forget they weren't actually talking until Jack walked over to them and, eyebrow raised, commented, "You writin' a novel outta those napkins there, Dave?"

Davey glanced at Jack before looking at the table, which was now littered in pencil-covered napkins. Davey chuckled at the sight and answered, "No, I was just talking to Crutchie."

Jack's eyes seemed to light up for a moment. His ordinary demeanor quickly returned as he took Davey's shoulder and said, "You see? He's got a lot to say. Almost as much as you, Mouth."

Then, he turned to Crutchie and signed something that Davey couldn't read through just facial expressions. Whatever it was, it made Crutchie laugh as he signed something back. Jack rolled his eyes and smirked, his hands flashing something quickly as he strolled out of the restaurant.

Crutchie stood up and adjusted his crutch, but before leaving, he scrawled one last thing on the napkin. As Crutchie made his way out, Davey read, "If you was wondering, Jack wanted me to meet him at the corner just outside Medda's to sell our papes, but he forgot the sign for theatre, so he went and over-explained it, and it came out real funny. He tries his best, though! Anyway, it was nice talking to you, Dave! I suppose I can officially call you a friend now!"

Time went on, and, despite the language barrier, Crutchie and Davey quickly became quite good friends. They mostly wrote to each other like that first day, or exchange glances while selling to communicate, but once in a while, Crutchie could lip-read a few things Davey said, and Davey even picked up on a few signs. Crutchie learned that Davey enjoyed reading and that he and his sister would have intensely competitive chess matches, and Davey learned that Crutchie's favorite season was autumn, and that he often played little pranks on Jack, such as hiding his paints or his friendship was friendly and polite, much like Crutchie himself, but it never seemed to go beyond simple conversation.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A light rapping on the window startled Davey awake one night a few weeks later, making him jump. But, he quickly relaxed, realizing it was probably Jack coming to visit at some ungodly area, which wasn't out of the ordinary.

So, Davey was thoroughly surprised when, sitting on the fire-escape in front of his window, was none other than Crutchie, his face hard-to-read, but certainly distressed.

Davey was filled with questions. Why are you here? How'd you find my house? Are you okay? What time is it? But, there was no pen and paper around. So, Davey just offered his hand Crutchie to come inside, thoroughly confused.

Crutchie hesitated at first, but eventually took it. As Davey pulled him in, he could feel the younger boy's hand shaking.

Unsure of what to do once he'd made it inside, Davey glanced at his bed and awkwardly offered Crutchie a place to sit. Crutchie glanced at the window one last time before accepting Davey's offer. Davey sat next to him after a moment, trying to think of what to do.

After what had felt like a very, very long time, Davey finally hesitantly signed, "You okay?", two signs he'd picked up somewhere in the past few weeks.

Crutchie was clearly not okay. His red cheeks were streaked with tears, not to mention the fact that he was visibly trembling and was only wearing old nightclothes, not even a coat, which told Davey he'd left in a rush. Despite that, Crutchie signed "yes."

Davey raised an eyebrow doubtfully, taking a closer look at his friend. He had a distant look in his eyes, similar to the look Jack would have when someone brought up his time in the Refuge.

That's when it clicked. The Refuge.

Davey tapped Crutchie's shoulder, then mouthed, "Refuge?"

And, Crutchie shattered. He buried his face in his hands and shook with sobs, making Davey wish he could take the simple word back. Instead, he hesitantly placed an arm around his friend's shoulders and pulled him a bit closer.

Crutchie looked up, his face looking utterly broken, and he shook his head. He held up his hand to sign something, to try and explain himself, but set it down defeatedly.

Davey didn't know what to say. But, he did know a few words, so he might as well put them to good use. "Okay," He signed carefully. "You're okay. You're okay. I'm here. Jack's here." But, not physically. But, how did Davey sign that? After a pause, he added, "For you. Jack's here for you. Me too. You're okay."

Crutchie sighed shakily and pointed to his head. Davey waited for him to elaborate, but he just kept pointing to his head.

Eventually, he got it: nightmares.

"No more..." Davey signed, then slowly finger-spelled, "R-E-F-U-G-E. That's..." Oh goodness, this should be an easy sign, Davey. He mentally reprimanded himself. "That's R-E-A-L, not bad D-R-E-A-M-S... It's G-O-N-E. You're S-A-F-E."

Crutchie's shoulders seemed to relax slightly all of a sudden.

Davey, letting a small smile on his face, signed, "You're S-A-F-E. That's good! You're S-A-F-E here. I P-R-O-M-I-S-E. You're S-A-F-E."

Crutchie softly smirked, his shoulders relaxing a little more. He leaned into Davey, who tightened his arm's grip on his shoulders. "Thank you." He signed.

"It's the T-R-U-T-H," Davey assured him. "You're S-A-F-E." Then, he looked down and saw that Crutchie had drifted off to sleep, leaning on Davey and finally looking peaceful for the first time that night.

The next morning, Crutchie was nowhere to be seen. On the bed next to him, however, was sheet of paper with what was clearly Crutchie's handwriting. Davey picked it up and read:

"Dear Davey,

Thank you for letting me in last night. I was too embarrassed to tell any of the other boys about my nightmare, even though they has all been through it, because Jack was just saying how great I was holding up. Truth is, I has been having nightmares almost every night since the strike, but who wants to admit that? I gotta be tough,you know. I didn't know where else to go, but I'se seen Jack come to this place sometimes, so I just hoped it was your house. Good for me, it was!

Anyways, thank you! I'll see you selling papes!

Sincerely,

Crutchie."

Almost immeadietly when Davey arrived at the Distribution Center, Crutchie caught Davey's attention. He waved for him than hobbled up to him as fast as he could. He signed, "You're-" followed by something Davey couldn't make out.

"What's that?" Davey asked.

Crutchie repeated himself, but Davey still couldn't get it.

It was then that Jack walked up to Davey and smirked, "Mouth, he just gave you a sign name. That's a big deal, Dave."

Davey, after the brief shock passed, let a wide smile spread across his face. I suppose we're officially friends now.