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Beans, Greens and Other Strange Things

Summary:

Instead of finding a harp when he goes up the beanstalk for a third and final time, Jack finds a young boy the size of a man's thumb, struggling in the Giant's grip. This moment changes everything, and yet nothing at all. (Written for @thepenultimateword's Fairytale crossover challange)

Work Text:

Look, if Jack wanted to be honest, he didn’t know why he had climbed the beanstalk. The first time, he had been curious, wanted to explore the new and magical gift that he had been given. The second time, he had been looking for more treasure. As much of a blessing that the coins had been, they couldn’t last forever. But this time… this time he had no excuse. “Let me go!” he heard a small voice scream breaking him out of his musings. He could feel the blood drain from his face, and he snuck a glance out of his hiding spot. Another boy, one so small that he could probably fit in Jack’s palm, was being dangled from the giant’s hands. “I will grind his bones to make my bread!” 

Jack grit his teeth and dashed out from under the bed, praying that the giant would be too distracted to notice him. He made it all the way to the door and kicked it open with a loud bang! “Hey!” he yelled out, smiling when he saw that the giant had dropped the other boy in his shock. “Come and get me!” 

The giant lumbered forward, and Jack spared a few precious seconds to reach a hand out to the tiny boy and pop him onto his shoulder. “Run! Run! Run!” yelled the boy, grabbing onto Jack’s shirt, and Jack gladly obeyed. He dashed out of the house and climbed down the beanstalk. “Tom Thumb!” the boy called out; voice barely audible in the wind.  Jack assumed it was the boy’s name, and so he said out his own.

After what seemed like eternity and yet mere minutes, Jack’s feet touched the floor. He wasted no time, running into his family’s shed and grabbing their sharpest axe. Tom cheered him on, quickly understanding his plan without Jack having to say a word. With the strength of a boy who had started chopping trees from the moment he could carry an axe, Jack swung. The giant was still climbing down, unaware of the danger he was in. “Again, Jack!” cackled Tom, and Jack could almost hear his smile. “Make the fucker pay!” The curses didn’t bother Jack. His mother had sworn over burnt food and stubborn weeds, and so Tom cursing the creature that nearly ate them both seemed mighty fine. Instead, he just swung the axe. 

Again and again, he swung his blade. Again and again, Tom cheered his name. Until at last, the beanstalk went down, and the giant was dead. Jack dropped the axe, adrenaline still rushing through in his veins. Slowly, he sat down, and Tom climbed down from his shoulder and into his palms. “That was the most awesome shit I’ve ever seen!” the boy exclaimed, wearing the widest grin that Jack had ever seen. “You kicked open the door! You made him chase you down a beanstalk! And then twack, twack, twack! Did you see the look on his face? You-” The grin slips at roughly the same time Jack’s own adrenaline begins wearing off.

“You … saved me. I didn’t get eaten again.” Tom said, so quietly that Jack almost didn’t hear him speaking. The word “again” caught Jack off guard. But he supposed that Tom lived in a world of giants. Even something as small as a rat would be a dangerous challenge. 

“It was the right thing to do,” he finally answered, not knowing what else to say. Tom stared at Jack as if he was something extraordinary, something more than just a farm boy with too much luck and not enough money. Jack soaked every second of the gaze.

“We’re friends now,” Tom finally declared, a stubborn set in his jaw that could rival Jack’s mother. It was clear that whether Jack liked it or not, the two of them were now bonded for life. Luckily for Jack, he saw no problem in this. Tom was a kindred spirit, had the same spark of magic in him that drew Jack to the beans.

“I sure hope so!” he laughed. “I would hate to be enemies!”

Tom smirked, face shifting from a determined glare to that of mischief incarnate in a split second. "You would.”

Jack laughed harder, weight lifting off his chest as any remaining awkwardness between them faded away. “Jack! What the fuck happened here?!” He froze. His ma. The scariest person he had ever faced, including the giant. He glanced at the fallen beanstalk and back at his fuming ma.

“He saved my life!” Tom yelled from his palm, balling his hands into fists. “If it wasn’t for him, I would be giant food!” Tom took a breath and told the full story from his point of view. About how a bird had snatched him from his home and into the giant's castle, and Jack rescuing him before he was eaten alive. It sounded awe-inspiring when Tom said it, a far cry from the harebrained scheme that it had felt like to Jack in the moment. Tom’s tale was so grand that Jack could see the fury slowly leave his ma’s eyes.

“Well, if that is the case…” she finally relented, “I suppose I can forgive him for the mess, just this once.” Jack slumped in relief, and decided that if there was anyone extraordinary, it was Tom.

It was still a gruelling few months of work to clean up the aftermath of the fight. But with Tom on his shoulder, telling both truths and tall tales to pass time, it wasn’t as bad as he had expected. Eventually, Jack started telling his own back. None of them were that good compared to Tom’s silver tongue, but they sparked laughter all the same. Then, one day, Tom came to him, holding a pair of strange shoes and looking guilty. “I’m going home,” he said, words brutally blunt yet still driving a dagger into Jack’s heart. He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak yet. He wouldn’t dare to hold Tom back from his family, who were probably horribly worried about him if even a single one of Tom’s stories about his childhood were true.

“Don’t forget about me?” He finally managed to joke. Tom scowled, a familiar stubbornness filling his small face. He kicked Jack’s hand as hard as he could. Which… wasn’t really that painful compared to almost seven hours each day of manual labour, but Jack got the point. He laughed, weight lifting off his chest ever-so-slightly as he smiled as his first and only friend. 

“Never,” Tom promises. “Not in a million years.” They have one last meal together before Tom leaves, a simple but hearty stew that his Ma had once saved for birthday meals. Jack sees him out the door, more of an excuse to spend more time together than anything else. Tom takes a step outside. And then another. “Our door is always open, dear,” his Ma promises Tom. Jack just smiles, making a crude gesture with each hand. Tom sent his own pair back, the two of the cackling. And then Tom was gone.

Time seemed to move slower without Tom around to help pass time. Making up stories to tell himself just wasn’t the same with the other boy clutching onto Jack’s shirt and laughing. Despite being nearly done with cleaning up the beanstalk mess, it didn’t feel like a victory. In fact, it just felt more and more like slowly waking a wonderful, half-finished dream. He kept going anyway. And then one day, there was a knock on the window. He had ignored it at first, assuming it was just his imagination again. And then, his ma opened the window, a wide smile on her face. “Jack! Your little friend is here!” Jack’s head spun around, feet already pounding against the floor as he scrambled over to the window.

Tom. Standing just outside the now-open window with a stupid smirk on his face. “Miss me?”