Carrying the Banner || Newsies One-shots

"Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing For His Troubles"

Race had sold all of his papers. He decided to poke around Brooklyn, because how could that go wrong? Turns out, more ways than one. In fact, the number of ways it could have gone wrong were immeasurable. Luckily for him, things only went wrong in two ways. The first mistake Race made was assuming that the Brooklyn boys would be happy to see him. The second mistake was that Race assumed Spot would be happy to see him. As he skidded to a halt in front of the lodging house, he was greeted with a punch to the face. As if that wasn't enough, though, the second he picked himself up off of the ground, another fist connected with his jaw, and he felt the skin split and drip blood on his hand.

Race rubbed his jaw, taking a look at the blood on his fingers and then wiping them on his pants. He was on his hands and knees, and before he managed to get up, someone's boot hit his chest and the wind was knocked out of him. He choked, looking up at his assailant with watering eyes. "The fuck?" he rasped, catching his breath, and frowning as he saw Spot's face, glaring down at him. "Spot?" Race coughed as he stood up, hand out to indicate a truce. "Please- don' beat me up no more. I only came to talk."

"Bullshit, Higgins. You never go anywhere jus' to talk," Spot snarled, looking like he'd very much like to break Race's neck. "What about the las' time ya came 'ere? When you just 'wanted to talk'? Huh?" He shoved Race backward, and the blond felt the hard wall of the alley digging into his back. "You and Wolf landed in bed together, but you was just talkin', yeah?"

"Is that what this is all about? Me and him sleepin'? Is it cause we're gay? Is that why ya hate me? Cause I 'turned Wolf gay?'"

Spot snorted, shaking his head. "I don't give a fuck that you're gay, Higgins! You OR Wolf! I'm gay! Why would I care?" He laughed contemptuously. "No, I care about the fact that I specifically toldja to stay clear o' me an' Brooklyn, an' then ya go an' sleep with one of dem. You really can't keep ya pants on, huh?"

Race's cheeks burned, and he stared Spot down in the eye. "'s just like ya, huh, Conlon? To go jumpin' to conclusions? You don' even stop ta ask yourself why such an upstanding guy like me would break mah word?" He scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Actually, Wolfeye  was drunk off his ass, which I will admit, is very nice. ("Higgins." ) Okay, okay, sorry. Anyways, he was wasted, an' I did 'im the kindess o' walkin' him home. He dragged me into bed wit' him, BUT, we did not have sex. I swear. Honest."

Spot's eyes were a very nice shade of brown, but right now they were boring into Race's own blue eyes, searching him for any sign of dishonesty. A few minutes passed, before, finally, Spot admitted, "Fine. I'll make the choice to believe ya, for now. But make me doubt that choice for a second, an' Kelly's gonna hafta come pick ya up cause you'll be so busted up, ya won' even be able to walk back to Manhattan. Get me?"

"I getcha, I getcha," Race agreed quickly, lifting his hands up exasperatedly. "Although, if you had paid more attention ta Wolf, youse woulda seen how drunk he was, so if anythin', it's kinda your fault that we'se in this unfortunate situation."

That was a mistake. Race barely had time to duck as Spot's fist came swinging at his face. "You may be the king o' Manhattan, Higgins, but you ain't the king of jackshit here. Stop actin' like ya own the place. This is my turf, and I decide what 'appens here." Race had to admit that Spot could be very scary, especially when he was mad. He made the smart decision to nod and slowly inch away from Spot's outstretched fist.

"Understood, loud an' clear, Spotty," Race said sheepishly, stopping in his tracks as Spot said lowly, "What'd you call me?"

The blond turned around, his signature cocky smile gracing his lips, feeling a rush of confidence all of a sudden. "I called ya Spotty. Like a nickname. Y'know what a nickname is, yeah? A name a friend gives ya, an endearing nickname..." He winked, and felt a surge of pride as an almost invisible blush crossed Spot's face. "Ya like that?" he purred, leaning against the wall with a wide smirk.

"Shut up. I ain't gonna let some- some inferior  Manhattan newsie try ta charm me into 'is pants. I'm not some doe-eyed, weak-willed...gal who you can just- bat ya eyes at and expect ta follow  ya to whatever godforsaken alley you-" Spot cut himself off to take a breath and then finished, "-whatever godforsaken alleyway you have sex in!"

Race raised a brow, snickering. "Well, that was painful. But, I'd gladly have sex in this godforsaken alleyway. I'm not really picky." He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning boyishly.

"Are you propositioning me, Higgins?" Spot snapped, walking towards him aggressively.

"That depends? Are ya acceptin' it?" Race purred, sidling over to him. "Cause it sure sounds like ya wouldn't mind if we did somethin' or other heah."

Spot scanned Race's face, his jaw set, before all of a sudden, there were lips on Race's, and the blond was pressed against the wall again, Spot's body up against his. There was a tightness starting to grow in Race's pants, and he groaned softly, nipping at Spot's lower lip.

"Sounds like yer accepting mah propostion, yeah, Spotty?" Race purred, feeling a rumble in Spot's chest as the other newsie chuckled quietly.

"Shut up, Higgins," Spot mumbled, pushing his lips on to Race's again, and sticking his knee between Race's legs, earning a slight cry from the taller. "And I thought you were the dominant one?"

"Shut up, Conlon," Race retorted, still feeling cocky despite being pressed against a wall with Spot's knee still against his dick. There was a feeling of pleasure starting to overwhelm the cocky feeling, though, as the knee pushed harder, and dragged a whine out of Race. "I thought you'd the be the submissive one, yet here we are." This earned him a bite on his neck, drawing a quiet moan out. "Fuck, okay, sorry Spotty..."

The lips on Race's mouth was replaced with a hand, and Spot's mouth was suddenly next to Race's ear, nibbling on his ear and breathing in the softest voice, "How's about we finish this inside, hm?" Race just groaned softly in response, flushing hard.

"Ooh, is that a yes?" Spot started, but Race was already dragging him inside, pushing him into the nearest room and up against the nearest wall without even bothering to see if there was anyone else there. Luckily, there wasn't, which was really good, because the second the door locked, Race and Spot were on each other, tearing at clothes and sloppily kissing. Tongues clashed as hands fumbled with shirts and pants, until both were completely naked and Race was up against the wall, chest, hands, and dick pressed up against the cold surface. Warm hands skimmed the surface of Race's back, causing him to shiver with anticipation. The hands moved lower and lower on his back until they cupped his ass, and he squeaked quietly.

Spot snorted, "Tha' was cute, you're cute." He said this so quietly that Race had to mumble, "Whadja say?" in order to hear it.

"I- I said you're cute," Spot murmured into Race's ear, gently turning him around and cupping his cheek. "And I ain't doin' this outta mah own self interest, it's cause...I really like youse, Racer." Spot pushed a gentle kiss on to Race's lips, and heard the other boy sob quietly. He pulled away, panicking, and froze when he saw Race crying softly. "Oh...is this really that bad...? 'm sorry, I shouldn't..." Spot started to back away, but Race shook his head, sniffling, and whispered, "No, I- I love you, Spotty..."

Race watched Spot with watery eyes, waiting to be kicked out. Instead, Spot just kissed Race again, but this was gentle, slow and sweet. There was no passion in this, just years of repressed feelings finally spilling out. Race pulled away and just hugged Spot. They stood there for a while, in each other's arms, needing nothing more than each other.