Newsies Imagines

Imagine Jack and Crutchie Taking Care of You when You're Sick

"Wake up, sleepin' beauty!" Romeo is shaking you. Groggily, you crack open one eye. "Mornin' bell rung ages ago, (y/n)!"

Horrified, you bolt upright. The room spins before your eyes. When everything stops moving, you turn to Romeo. "Why on earth didn't ya get me up sooner?" you complain. He only shrugs, smirks, and races down the stairs.

You quickly get dressed, noticing how your head feels as though it were filled with cotton. It's throbbing hard, and you can hardly focus enough to tie your boots. You try to ignore it. There are papes to be sold, money to be made. If you don't sell, you don't eat.

Rushing down the stairs, you tuck your (h/c) hair up underneath your cap. You miss a stair and slide on your back the rest of the way down. Stunned, you lay at the bottom for a moment.

"That looked like a nasty fall," Crutchie comments, offering you his hand to help you up.

"Thanks," you shakily say, trying to fake a smile. If only the floor would stop rocking!

"You... you feelin' alright, (y/n)?" he asks, looking you over.

"I'm fine," you quickly lie.

But Crutchie is having none of it. "Hey, Jack," he calls and motions with his head that Jack should come over.

"Whatcha need, Crutchie?" Jack asks.

"Does (y/n) look alright to you?" Crutchie asks.

Jack looks you up and down. He then places the back of his hand on your forehead.

"You's burning up!" he cries, concern etched on his face. "Get back up to bed, alright?"

"Jack, I gotta sell!" you try to explain, the room whirling.

"(Y/n)-"

The next thing you remember is waking up in your own bed. You blink in confusion. There are two Crutchies sitting next to you! Finally, he comes into focus. You try to sit up, but he gently pushes you back down.

"What happened?" he asks himself, anticipating your question. "You just kinda collapsed after you told Jack you still wanted to sell. No!" he silences you as you try to say something. "Jack said no talking. Or getting up."

You give him a half smile and settle into your pillow, resigning yourself to the fact that you won't be selling (or talking) for the rest of the day. But you can't resist making one little comment.

"Yes, Doctor Crutchie."

He smiles and raises his eyebrows, trying to look stern. It isn't working. Just then, Jack bounds up the stairs, smiling proudly.

"You'll never guess what I did," he says, handing a biscuit to Crutchie for breakfast. "I talked to the nuns, and they prescribed this specially made soup. They's gonna bring it over later. And they's gonna see if ya need medicine or anything."

He settles himself on the bench next to Crutchie.

"You guys don't need to stay," you protest. "Go out and sell."

"While you's sick, I ain't leavin'," Crutchie insists.

"Me neither," Jack agrees. "Now get some sleep, kid. You's gonna get better real soon."