Newsies AU

Newsies AU

The first half of Carrying the Banner ends as Pulitzer’s office screen drops over the black street stairways and several of the newsies once on them disappear behind the drapes. Including but not limited to Racetrack. AU where instead of gracefully going down the stairs and off stage, Ben Cook, the actor who plays Racetrack, accidentally falls down the stairs echoing several loud thumps and as the bangs came to an end a quiet, but not unheard, small mutter of “damnit”

100 sprace, pretty please? also maybe spot can say the line? I really like the hc that spot is a softie around race

Oh my gosh I apologize for the agonizingly long wait. I just moved into college two weeks ago and my life has never felt more hectic. I finally got time to write a little more! This is admittedly a little rushed and sloppy, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Thank you for the prompt

100. “I adore you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Racetrack Higgins considered himself to be pretty clever. If someone were to take him anywhere in New York, he could navigate through any street and find his way back home. If he started a game of cards that he was destined to lose, he could nab a few bucks off of the unsuspecting players while they weren’t paying attention, so he never really lost any money. If the Delancey brothers tried to sneak up on him or some of the other Manhattan newsies, Race was usually the key component to winning the fight, his smart remarks and quick reflexes enough to distract both of the brothers long enough for help to arrive or for Race to get a good punch in.

He was used to living on the streets, practically begging for money, enduring the cold, going to sleep hungry, getting teased by the other boys he lived with, and working long days.

However, he wasn’t used to having Spot Conlon crowded against him in hidden alleyways and under staircases. He wasn’t used to Spot kissing him hard and deep, gentle and kind, or desperate and quick. He wasn’t used to Spot showing any kind of emotion whatsoever.

But hey, that didn’t mean he didn’t like it.

“I love you.” Spot murmured against Race’s lips, pressing quick kisses against them after every word. Race smiled against him, letting himself be showered with compliments.

He had traveled over to Brooklyn with the intent to tell Spot about how he wanted to take him back to Manhattan for a poker game, but Spot had barely let him talk, immediately winding his arms around Race’s waist and hauling him off to under the docks, hidden from any wanderers.

Race had admittedly giggled his way through the adventure, blushing every time Spot’s lips haphazardly met his cheeks. When they finally reached their secluded area, Spot finally had the chance to properly cup Race’s face and bring him froward for the first real kiss of the day.

When Race finally pulled away, he pushed Spot off of him playfully. “What’s gotten’ into you, hot stuff?” He joked, pretending to wipe his mouth on his sleeve. “Ya barely lettin’ me get a word in.”

“Missed you.” Was all Spot said in response, tugging Race close to him again and pressing their foreheads together. Race smiled at him. Seeing Spot vulnerable and loving like this was a relatively new concept. It was only two months ago that he and Spot had admitted feeling more than friendship for one another, a concept that was considered highly illegal and, not to mention sinful, by most people.

Race remembered the time clearly. It started out with him arguing with the other boy over the recent strike. Spot wasn’t willing to join, and Jack had sent Race over in an act of desperation. Spot had claimed he didn’t want Race visiting him simply to convince him of Jack’s devious plans, and Race had, in a moment of intense emotion, admitted that he offered himself to go because the other boys thought that Spot had a soft spot (ha) for him.

Spot had, at first, adamantly denied this and sent Race on his way— angrily. He knew his reputation was in danger. Race had left, but he only made it halfway across the bridge before Spot came running after him. Race remembers a blur of words, a quick, awkward kiss, and the other boy running back into the night. It wasn’t until Race visited Brooklyn again three days later that he finally got Spot alone and they had a real talk, which had admittedly ended with breathy moans muffled by calloused hands.

Now, two months later, Race was getting acquainted with a new Spot Conlon. This Spot let his guard down and constantly wanted a hand or, preferably, his whole body on Race. He whispered promises in Race’s ears and listened intently to his stories about his day. Though the previous Spot had been a good friend before, it came without the kissing, loving words, and pleasurable acts. Race had no problem accepting the new version and frankly, he was honored that Spot would let his guard down enough to admit that Race was his favorite person.

“I was trying to say,” Race had to pull away from Spot’s persistent lips again, using his arms to hold the other at bay, “that I want you to come to Manhattan tonight.”

“Mhm?” Spot murmured, raising his eyebrows. “What, you wanna introduce me to your friends? Ain’t that movin’ a little fast?” 

Race rolled his eyes at Spot’s teasing tone. As if Spot had never met any of the Manhattan newsies before. “No, jackass. We’s all goin’ to Medda’s to play poker and I know you enjoy takin’ all of Jack’s money.”

“I do enjoy that.” Spot smiled, reaching out to run his thumb along Race’s bottom lip. He looked into the darker eyes of the boy in front of him and cocked his head slightly. “I love you.”

“You already said that.” Race breathed out, trying to pretend Spot’s words didn’t cause him to feel every emotion under the sun. His stomach felt like a pool of warmth and nerves, spreading a jittery feeling throughout his entire body. He wanted Spot to say more. “What else ya got?” He asked, unable to resist the temptation of hearing Spot admit all of his secret admirations without having to pretend to be tough and no-nonsense.  

“What else do you wanna hear?” Spot played along, pressing his lips against Race’s yet again.

“Hmmm.” Race hummed against him. He pulled away and pretended to mull it over. “Tell me all of the things you think about me.”

Spot grinned at him, stepping away and pretending to stroke an imaginary beard. He waited until Race got impatient before beginning a sweet serenade of compliments. “I love your teeth. How they’s all crooked.” He started out, knowing that would get Race smiling. When the other did indeed show his crooked teeth, Spot continued.

“I love your clothes ‘cause they is way too big for you.”

Race rolled his eyes, subconsciously moving to adjust his suspenders. “They ain’t that big.” He muttered. Spot’s hands snuck forward to fiddle with the front of his baggy white shirt, sending Race a wink before continuing.

“I think your laugh is annoyin’ but I ain’t ever wanna stop hearin’ it.”

The shorter boy blushed. Trying to cover up his shy chuckle with his hand, only to have it pulled away by Spot and pinned to his side.

“Don’t try to cover it up.” He snickered, interlocking his fingers with Race’s now.

“You said it was annoyin’.” Race pretended to pout, though he squeezed Spot’s hand back just as hard. “Now you gotta make up for it. Tell me I’m pretty.”

Spot barked out a laugh, nudging his forehead against Race’s shoulder. “You’re very pretty, Race.”

Race hummed happily, running his free hand along the back of Spot’s neck. “Keep talkin’ like that and you may just get lucky.”

Spot stood up straight at that, looking straight into Race’s eyes with a mischievous grin on his face. “For sure?” He asked, always eager to make Race moan his name. The boy in front of him rolled his eyes again.

“Not if you keep stallin’. Maybe I’ll just leave.”

“No!” Spot responded without missing a beat, “I don’t like it when you’re gone.”

At this, Race looked somber, his eyes shooting up to meet Spot’s and his face slightly shocked. A faint blush was already dusting his cheeks, but now the innocent, admiring look he was giving the other boy was too much for him to stay away. Spot advanced once again, pulling Race forward and kissing him yet another time. Race melted into the touch, moving his hands to Spot’s cheeks and deepening the kiss. Spot allowed this, stepping forward eagerly and sending both of the stumbling backwards. Race pulled back with a soft laugh.

“You know somethin’?” He asked Spot quietly, keeping his hands close to the other’s face to feel the warmth radiating from his cheeks. Spot raised his eyebrows in response. Race took a quick breath and continued. “I never woulda guess that you had a soft side.”

Spot snorted, taking a small step back to give Race a teasing smile. “Don’t go blabbin’ bout it. I ain’t lookin’ to have my reputation ruined.”

“I ain’t gonna tell no one, you idiot.” Race laughed. “I like hearin’ you talk all nice.”

The taller boy grinned, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah? Well I like talkin’ all nice to you.”

Race kissed him, smiling against the other’s mouth, this time accepting the knots and butterflies flopping around in his stomach. Spot returned the gesture eagerly, peppering small kisses on Race’s cheeks and forehead.

“I adore you.” He whispered against Race’s right cheek.

Race felt as if his knees were going to give out. His heart skipped a beat and he gripped onto Spot’s hands eagerly. Spot seemed to know the affect of his words, laughing softly as Race buried his head into his shoulder, blushing furiously and cursing Spot for being “gross”.

As they stood there in the shade of the overbearing Brooklyn buildings, carefully embracing one another and whispering silly, nonsense promises to one another, both boys felt at home.

Race definitely wasn’t used to this new Spot Conlon, but damn, he could get used to him. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack: David, I need the…

(David hands him his papes)

Jack: Oh, also, I didn’t have a chance to…

(David hands him coffee)

Jack: Marry me?

David: I took care of that too. We’ve been married the last seven years.

actual conversation between albert and race

race: what is that smell albert?

albert: my mac and cheese cup

race: did you forget the water? it smells like it’s burning

albert: *quietly* you’re supposed to put water in it?

Albert: You’re sick! Your temperature is 104.1!

Race: If I was sick, could I do this.

Albert:

Race:

Albert: what are you doing?

Race: breaking dancing. Am I not doing it?

Race: I’m healthy

Race: I eat vegetables

Race: see look at these sticks of water I got

Davey: Race that’s celery