Carrying the Banner || Newsies One-shots

"I Ain't Scared O' No Turf!"

Socializing with people was not Race's strong suit, no matter how much he bluffed and boasted. He'd never been good with talking to people, so he was visibly upset when Jack asked him to be the one to go and tell the Brooklyn Newsies how much they appreciated their help during the strike.

"Aw, c'mon, Jack, me?" Race whined when Jack made the request. "Ain't ya got no one better to do dis? Like Davey? In fact, why don't you do it, huh?"

The former strike leader rolled his eyes and simply said, "An antisocial newsie ain't much help when selling papes, yeah? Just go over and tell 'em thank you fah me, aight?"

Glowering, Race skulked all the way to Brooklyn, exhausted when he finally reached their lodging house. With a resigned sigh, he knocked on the door, and almost fell over when one of the newsies yanked the door open.

"Ah, its just one o' the Manhattan twerps!" the newsie called back to a taller boy, who was approaching the doorway. As he got closer, Race could see that it was none other than the Brooklyn Newsie's leader, Spot Conlon. His breath caught in his throat as the guy towered a good foot and a half above him.

"We already helped ya, what more do ya want?" Spot drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Race smirked a bit, bluffing like he usually did. "Well, hello hello hello, sir. May I speak to da man in charge?"

"That'd be me," Spot replied, a slight growl underlining his voice. "Whaddya want, Higgins?"

"Oh, I'm honoured, you even knows who I am. Well, Jack Kelly told me to tell all of youse that we appreciated ya help during the strike."

"Is dat so?" Conlon chuckled, grinning down at Race. "Why didn't he jus' tell us himself, den, huh?"

Race maintained his smirk, as well as eye contact, feeling the panic crawl away. "Wishes he could be heah, send his love doe. I mean, da guy's famous now, and he got a union to run." He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Ya know how it is."

Spot Conlon's grin only widened and he nodded. "Yeah, believe it or not, I actually do." The boy looked around outside and then surprised Race by saying, "Hey, how's about ya stay here for da night? There ain't no way you're getting back ta Manhattan before the sun sets."

The Manhattan newsie felt his face flush slightly, and he chuckled. "You're kiddin', right? Surely you don't want the likes o' me stinkin' up the place?" Race grinned, thought it slowly started to falter. "Ya serious, Conlon?"

"Nah, jus' wanted ta see how'd ya react," Spot snorted, rolling his eyes. "Cmon in, Higgins. Sorry, I mean Racetrack."

Race's cheeks were burning now as he slowly walked in and looked around. "Damn, you cleaned up good, huh? Much better lookin' than the Manhattan one," he chuckled, looking back at Spot, whose grin was huge. "Whatcha smilin' 'bout, huh, Spotty?"

The grin disappeared immediately and was replaced with a glare. "Call me Spotty again, ya walkin' back to Manhattan, got it, Racer?"

"Aw, you'd nevah let me walk back all on my lonesome, would ya, Spotty?" Race teased, screeching as Spot started after him. "Wait no I'm sorry Spot-"

He found himself against a wall and watched with slight terror as the boy barreled toward him. "Spot I'm sorry-"

Spot burst out laughing and ruffled his hair. "Ya scare too easily, Race. I ain't gonna hurt ya."

"Why's ya bein' so nice alla sudden, Spot? I thought ya didn't like us Manhattaners?"

Cheeks red and expression guilty, Spot looked away and replied, "Well, maybe ya ain't so bad. Jus' you, doe. Youse better den alla dem newsies. Not dat dey's bad jus'..."

Race smirked at him. "Nah, I know. How couldja resist this?" He gestured to his body and his smirk grew. "I don' blame ya at all."

"Gawd, ya just a cocky guy, ain't ya?" the Brooklyn Newsie leader snorted. "Lucky for ya, I like dat."

"Oh, does ya now?" Racetrack hummed, his face heating up again. "It's a good thing I came over, huh? You woulda never smiled if it hadn't been fah me."

"Mm, you could do a lot more den make me smile tonight," Spot chuckled, slowly advancing towards Race. "If dat was something you was into?"

Race, who would never pass up an opportunity to get laid, even with a guy, simply smirked and replied, "Why don'tcha show me where I'm sleepin' tonight?"

This earned a chuckle from Spot, who dragged Race to an empty bunking room and closed the door, making sure to lock it.

(timeskip you dirty dogs no smut for you...yet...)

Race woke up with a groan the next morning, his body littered with marks and a dull pain in his back. He glanced over to see a ray of light falling over Spot's naked body, laying next to him. Race chuckled softly and gently kissed Spot's neck, mumbling, "Bell's ringin', Spotty. Gotta go sell papes."

The boy responded by groaning and rubbing his eyes. "Dey's can sell papes without me. I got somethin' better right here."

This made Race flush and roll his eyes. "Ya say that ta all ya one night stands?" he teased, laying his head on Spot's chest.

Spot was silent for a moment, before quietly saying, "I ain't never had no one like you before. I like ya, Race."

"Ya serious, Spotty?"

"Not if ya call me Spotty," he chuckled, pulling Race into a kiss.

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idk i kinda like this one
i'm proud of it :')