How Jimothee Was Solved

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Work was long and boring, they all walked home sore and tired from the thousands of sudden orders. Swollen hands and chipped fingernails, their boots dragged on the ground as they approached the apartment; one foot in front of the other.

Crutchie was using Jack for extra support as he was getting continuously worse as the time increased. Surly it was nothing deadly, and there was no way that the boys would let it get to that stage even if it took everything.

Race was watching the afternoon horse race as always, the cigarette dangling between his lips as he shifted it from side to side. It wasn't even lit but regardless it was almost a comfort to him. Truthfully it was concerning how heavily he relied on the pungent tube, but after all the years of escape he'd felt from it, it'd became a natural part of him. Specs walked beside him and took a second look when he realised Race, Elmer and Albert were there with them.

"Wait- what are you guys doing here?" He asked, remembering that weren't even employed at the same place anymore.
"Eh turns out this is a short cut." Elmer said. The route they took probably didn't make a difference at all but either way being all together made him feel whole. Outwardly he cringed at his dependency on the others, but inside he felt complete, they were his family; more than his real ones. Seven younger brothers, he was the oldest, and while you'd expect he'd have a big happy family it only made it harder. He was kicked out as soon as he was employed because his parents were running out of room in the house and the landlord was pissed for having too many on property. He never spoke to his folks anymore for he felt he was unwanted, if only they could see him now living in a three bedroom apartment with more than eight people.

When Romeo sat at the kitchen table he admired Jimothee. The simple turtle with simple lifestyles. He tapped on the glass and Jimothee hid in his shell, Romeo wished he could do the same sometimes.
"Fuck..." Race walked past, noticing the pasta dish still there.
"What?" Romeo asked blankly, still enticed by the reptile.
"I need to return the dish... still." He stared at the dish and rubbed his temple with frustration at his own procrastination. "I swear DON'T YOU BOZOS LET ME FORGET! Also... where will we put Jimmy?"
"It's Jimothee." Crutchie corrected as if to say 'duh'.

Jack leaned against the door frame and picked at his nails with consideration. The fellas looked at him, asking what to do about it. He nibbled his thumb on the side for a few seconds before collecting himself to give an answer. "Well... he could go in the bathtub?"
"We'd have no shower though-"
"Right yes ok," he continued, brushing off his first plan. "Ok well, we could get a terrarium. Yeah we can't afford one but I have an idea."
"Is it legal?" Crutchie worried.
Jack paused thinking before answering matter of factedly, "Absolutely not no. But eh for Jimothee right?"
"YEAH!" The apartment called.
"We love this thing don't we?" He pointed to the creature.
"YEAH!"

"Ok well, tell us ya plan then." Albert rolled his eyes at the delay.
"I say we steal one of those candle fishbowls at the centre of restaurant tables." He crossed his arms slightly proud.
"I don't think- we could try but I don't know if you've seen us- were not all that stealthy?" Specs corrected.
"You got a point... well I'm out of ideas. Actually. I have a friend I'll go see them about it. Race, is the pasta dish urgent?"
"Well yeah?" Race rolled his eyes slightly concerned if Spot would ever get the dish back.

Like clockwork, when they had agreed to hold onto the dish until they had a tank there was a knock at the door. The boys all looked at one another, confused. "Katherine coming over?" Crutchie asked Jack.
"Nah she woulda texted me..." he answered, staring at the door. It couldn't have been Davey because at this point he just let himself in regardless of an invitation although it took weeks of the boys telling him he didn't have to knock for that to happen.

"Fuck what if it's the landlord?" Race went slightly pale, whispering. They all scattered into hiding positions so they didn't look too suspicious and overcrowded in the apartment. Gathering his courage he opened the door. It wasn't the landlord but instead, in the door frame stood none other than Spot Colin.
"Hey! You still got my pasta dish?" He asked quietly to Race, not quite shyly but still weary.
Inside Jack recognised the voice and came out of hiding while the others opted to stay put. "Heya Spot! What brings you here?"
"Well if it isn't Jack-Be-Nimble-Jack-Be-Quick, if I ain't mistaken you still got my pasta dish. The Brooklyn boys love our Pasta Sunday and we can't have that without a pasta dish now can we?"

Spot tried intimidating Jack, he wasn't particularly failing but considering they both shared the same level of leadership and overall charisma, he was pretty calm. "Well-"
Spot was on his way to the kitchen where the boys were still sitting on benches or climbing out of the pantry. "What the fuck are you doing in the cub-" Spot saw the table. "Is that... a terrapin?"
The boys all blinked at his shock and tried not to laugh at the expression on his face. He looked as if he'd swallowed a bee while taking a math test from Einstein.

"Yeah... I was meaning to tell ya bout that," Race smiled at him, slightly worried and feeling like a failure at his lack of communication.
"All good babe." Spot said calmly, shrugging.
"Really?" He was slightly shocked at his boyfriends response.
"Yeah. I can't disturb the terrapin," he began, "that'd just be bad. You guys have a new home for it because... I still need that dish."
"Yeah that's the issue we can't really get a home for him yet. I swear I was going to return the dish as soon as I could, we was just trying to get him a proper tank."
"Don't sweat it calm the fuck down. I promise, it's fine."

"His name's Jimothee." Finch told Spot. They had been friends for a while before Finch commuted to Manhattan, and sometimes he joined Pasta Night himself.
"Ya know... I might just have a solution for you guys..." Spot smirked.
"Solution for???" Jack prompted.
"The tank. You know that ring toss game they have down at Coney? You could get a fish from there and then just use the tank."
"What about the fish that's already in it?" Crutchie asked, prioritising the fish of corse.
"They die within a few hours anyway." Spot shrugged it off and Crutchie broke a little. Elmer patted him on the shoulder for comfort and whispered how they don't really die and how they go to Fish Heaven. Spot noticed and felt a little guilty but moved on. "So, if you really needs one; Coneys really hot."

They took it into consideration and Spot stayed for a little bit more. They played a few small games of Uno together on teams. Jack and Crutchie, Race and Spot, Specs and Elmer, Finch and Romeo, Albert and HotShot, Ike and Mike all against each-other to determine the masters. It went smooth and considering the compatibility, Race and Spot almost committed homicide when they lost for the fifth time. "Whatever the games fucking rigged anyway." Spot muttered.

After Spot left the tension in the house lowered. They didn't mind him and truthfully enjoyed his company. Sometimes they questioned why they did fear Brooklyn so much, and often they drew the conclusion that they feared their skills. Spot was especially good at making headlines. Not writing them but literally being in the headline. Not the best look but it was honest work. Most people didn't know the genius behind the cheeky activists but the Newsies were all in on it. What none of them knew was that sometimes Race was in the headline as well, disguised under Spots name. Regardless, they still vibed enough to tolerate and enjoy each others company.

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