Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

73. “You still need your baby blanket?”

(I relate to this one, so I’m kicking this off with this. Picked it meself, request your own!)

Also, fun fact: The real Spot wore pink suspenders. Pink being a girl color is a modern thing, no one would tease Race for his favorite color being pink.

Canon era, Broadway Musical verse, Sprace, Spot is 15 (Because I always see him as younger then Race) and Race is 16.

_________________________________

Race had no idea what had led up to this moment, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

Making out with the King of Brooklyn, on the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge, in a alley. Not the worst life, not in the least. Having Spot pinned to the wall, with the vague risk rushing through him. I was wonderful.

Race pulled away, his blue eyes glimmering in the dim light. “C’mon, Conlon, ‘bout time for you to be headed home.”

Spot pouted. “I ain’t scared of da dark. Why not stay a little longer?”

Race rolled his eyes. “’Cause you can’t see two feet in front of youse, it’s a new moon tonight. No get home, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Spot rolled his eyes right back,but agreed. “Fine. I’ll see you at Sheepshead in the morning?”

“You bet your bottom dollar I will.”

They kissed again, before going their separate ways for the night. Race to the lodging house where his friends waited, Spot to the bridge and then to the docks.

He wouldn’t make it that night.

On the way, he was pulled into a alley with what felt like a pistol pressed to his back. Spot’s eyes widened, freezing in place. There was maintaining pride, and there was living.

Whoever held the gun to his back spoke roughly in his ear. “Gimme’ all your money, or you’ll get a bullet in the back.”

Spot remained still. “No.”

The gun was shoved harder into his back, but Spot still refused. He wasn’t letting this guy take his hard earned money. The guy must have gotten fed up, because the gun backed up. Spot went to turn, to fight this guy off, but the gun fired. Spot’s eyes widened, a gaping hole in his side. He kept his footing for a full 30 seconds, but then he fell.

The person who had shot him bent over him, smiling. He stuck his hands in Spot’s pockets, stealing all his money and, seemingly for the fun of it, kicked Spot a good few times.

Spot remained like that, lying on the ground bleeding, for a minuet before he tried to get up. It was burning agony, but he scooted himself to the wall of the alley.

He heard footsteps coming closer, and Spot prayed that it was Race or Ridge. He groaned, shifting a little too much. That got the person walking by’s attention. They walked in. “Spot?”

Race.

Spot looked up, and smiled faintly. Then his head lolled to the side and everything went black.

Race had only been intending to return Spot’s hat.

Instead he rushed back to the lodging house, cradling a still bleeding Spot in his arms. He almost broke down the door and ran upstairs, laying Spot out on his bunk. The entire way, Race had done his best to keep pressure on the hole. (Even if it meant he was out of a shirt)

Spot’s normally dark skin was pale, sweat beaded his forehead. Race tore off his shirt, other Newsies gathering around to watch. Thankfully, the bullet (God, Spot had been shot) had gone clean through.

Words he never thought he would have to think.

Romeo had run to get bandages, Specs was trying to get Race away from Spot so he could see what he was doing. A damp rag was being used to clean the wound after Race’s shirt was taken off, and thankfully it had stopped bleeding.

Bandages were wrapped around Spot’s side, hopefully keeping infection away. Now that Spot wasn’t bleeding out all over Race, he could look at his boyfriend’s face. He had been pummeled, judging from the bruises flowering under his freckled face.

Race’s fists clenched. He would find that bastard who hurt his Spot.

Covering Spot in blankets, Race hurried downstairs to pay for both him and Spot. Kloppman accepted the payments, and asked after Spot’s health. Race shook his head. “Specs says it’s to early to tell. If.. If he survives the night, he has a good chance, right?”

Kloppman nodded.

Race smiled, then bounded upstairs. Spot was just how Race had left him, the other Newsies settling in for bed. Race pulled a chair next to Spot’s bed and sat, waiting to see if Spot would wake up or not during the night.

Race knew it was stupid, and if the others found it he would be teased mercilessly, but Race took out from under his bed a box. And in the box was a folded up quilt, and two blankets, one blue and one pink.

Race spread the quilt out over Spot (who was shivering) and after tucking it in, he spread out the blue blanket over Spot. Race held the pink one close.

Because he needed the comfort the quilt and blankets provided. And he figured that Spot wouldn’t mind the warmth.

When Spot ‘woke up’ his first sensation was the comforting warmth of a soft bed and a warm blanket. Then the sunlight on his face. The second to last thing he noticed was that his chest felt scratchy and it was hard to breath. The last thing? A wall of pain that hit him.

He groaned, eyes scrunching. God, what on earth hurt that much, getting run over by a firecart?

“Spot?”

Spot cracked one eye open, then shut it because it was really freaking bright. It had made his head hurt. Cracking the other eye open, he saw he was looking up at the bottom of a bunk. And sunlight was illuminating the room. Spot cracked his other eye open, spotting Race. His very cute, concerned boyfriend.

“’Ace?” Spot asked, his voice cracking.

Race smiled, a big toothy smile. “Spot! You idiot, you had me worried.”

Spot tried to reply, but his voice refused to work. Race noticed, and grabbed a cup of water that had been sitting on a table. “You want some water?”

Spot nodded weakly, and Race helped him sit up. He stole a few pillows to make sitting up easier for Spot. After a few failed attempts at holding the cup, Race had to help.

Spot felt much better after the water though. He looked around, noting that the sun was setting. And that draped over him was.. A quilt? And a blue blanket?

The quilt was a beautiful patchwork one, made lovingly. And the blanket was frayed with use. “Who’s are these?”

“Mine.” Race said simply. Spot realized that Race was holding a pink version of the blanket over him in his arms.

“Pink your favorite color?”

“Yep. What’s yours?”

“Blue. Like your eyes.”

Race blushed as pink as his blanket. Spot smirked back. “So, you still sleep with your two baby blankets?”

Race shook his head. “Nah, I keep all of this hidden in a box. I only break out the quilt when someone’s hurt, sick, or it’s a really cold night.”

Spot felt himself nodding off. Race once again noticed and smiled. “Okay, sleeping beauty. Time for you to get back to sleep. Don’t pass out for two days again, will you?”

“You bet your bottom dollar.”

Chapter Text

When Buttons first showed up at the Lodging House, all he had were his clothes, a dollar, yarn and kitting needles.

And he used that yarn and knitting needles.

He never told anyone why, he just knitted. He used any spare cash he had to buy yarn. Then he would knit mittens, hats, scarves, sweaters, socks, and blankets. (He gave one to Les, it's now Les' favorite thing ever) He just loves to knit.

Eventually it got him in trouble.

Buttons had been sitting and knitting once he finished selling his papes, working on a sweater for one of the little Newsies, when a bull came up. He didn't care what Buttons was doing, only that he was dressed as a Newsie and he was sitting down. So he picked up Buttons and threw him over his shoulder. Buttons struggled, he fought, he kicked and bit, but it did nothing.

He was brought to court, tossed in the Refuge, and no one heard from him for a month.

A plan was executed to get Buttons back, and by some wonder it worked. Jack, David, Race and Blink all came back to the Lodging House with a battered Buttons. He smiled and laughed and hugged the life out of his fellow Newsies, and apologized profusely for getting caught. Then he found the little Newsie and presented him with a finished sweater. Buttons had hidden his knitting from the guards.

And the little boy gave Buttons something he had made while Buttons was gone. "I missed you, so I made youse this."

It was a stuffed doll, with a little hat and vest, and stitched onto the vest was his name. It had buttons for eyes, and yarn for hair that stuck out from under a little cap. Buttons loved it. He cradled it close to his chest.

"And that's not the best part!"

And presented to Buttons was a small basket of yarn.

Buttons started crying, clutching the doll and embracing all of his friends. The yarn went into a bunch of scarves, sweaters, and warm socks. And Buttons taught the kids interested in knitting how, and soon there was a small knitting club. Then it spread to the other boroughs and Buttons became the leader of a small gang known as 'Knitting Newsies' that persisted through the years until the last Newsie left the streets and the last lodging house closed down.

Then it was 'Knitting Paperboys'.

And that doll was given to Button's own daughter, who like her father loved to knit. She inherited his yard, needles, and his beloved doll.

Her name was also Buttons, and she knit scarves and sweaters and socks for her friends and family, just like her Dad.

Chapter Text

Antonio 'Racetrack' Higgens was a man out of time. He had been stuck in a block of ice for almost 70 years, from WWII to 2011. It was a huge shock to him when he had first woken up. He was unfamiliar with the world around him, being thrust into it strait from 1945. He didn't know what the hell he was doing anymore, so, he hid in the gym. Memories flashing through his mind every time he closed his eyes. He had to relive his best friend/boyfriend's death every night. With only a worn out old hat to hold from their days as Newsies in Brooklyn.

Jack Kelly had been trapped in a cave for nine months, after a weapons demonstration. Separated from the rest of society with a single man, building a missile that would be used to kill American troops. But never let it be said Jack was not a drama queen, he was getting out alive. There was one big issue though, a car battery was the only thing powering a electromagnet that kept shrapnel from hitting his heart. So he had made a small arc reactor, that kept him alive. Then he had made a armor, and he had escaped. But the man that had become his close friend over the nine months hadn't.

David Jacobs had messed up big time. He had tried to recreate the serum that had created Captain America. And it had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Instead of becoming a super solider, he had become the Hulk. A big, dumb monster who destroyed everything in his path. David had tried everything, meditation, zen, turning himself in (That had gone horribly), but nothing ever worked. He got to a point the only way out seemed to be death, but that didn't work either. So he decided to help. He went to India and hid there for a year without incident. He hadn't seen his twin sister or little brother in three years.

Finch wasn't sure why anyone would have thought the deaf kid from the circus would make a good secret agent, but they did. Finch was one of the best. He had a eye unmatched, he was the best shot in SHEILD, he was undefeated. But that didn't mean he didn't have his fair share of bad memories, stuff that haunted him every night. He had been there when Specs came to Earth, he had knocked him out.

Romeo had been a dancer from a young age. Regardless of whatever he was learning, he always made time for dancing. He was a really damn good dancer to, but.. He was being trained as a assassin. And, well, he was 16 when he completed his training. He was barely 17 when he was sent on his first mission, and he completed it. He got a reputation for always completing the mission. But he got on someone's radar, in a bad way. Someone was sent to kill him. Someone who didn't. Someone who took him off the path he had been on and putting him on the right one. But no matter what, he still made time to dance. He was 21 years old.

Specs was a prince. The prince of the gods. (He wasn't really named Specs, but his real name was soooo looooonnngggg) He was a warrior, a strong man who -with his brother Oscar- fought many battles and won with his merry band. Tommy Boy, Buttons, Mike, Ike, Jojo, and Elmer, they were his friends. And when they faced one battle that no-one could win by themselves and were saved by Odin, Specs was thrown to Earth, and his hammer with him. With the help of a young scientist named Sarah, a older scientist named Dutchy, and a young 'intern' named Les, he won back his place in Asgard after sacrificing himself to save the humans from a powerful enemy called 'The Dystroyer'. He retrieved his hammer and saved his friends, new and old. After failing to save Oscar, and it turning out that Oscar was kinda-sorta evil, Specs was forced to stay in Asgard.

Director Medda Larkson was not happy. She rarely ever was, but this was a new level of unhappiness. She had... What, two gods, a 23 year old from 1945, a rage monster, a drama queen with millions of bucks to burn, a dancer/assassin, a deaf archer, and S.H.E.I.L.D. They were not doomed-doomed, but pretty damn close. She sighed. This would or would not end in disaster, and she was hoping to a higher power that it would fall on the latter.

Everything went to shit one Saturday night. A evac had been ordered for the residents of a small Arizona town, because of the danger of a explosion. Director Larkin stepped off of a helicopter, meeting with Agents Desaliva and Smalls. She passed so many fleeing families, but her main concern was what was under the ground. "What's the situation?"

Albert gestured for her to follow him. "The Teseract is being... Well, I'd better show you. Dr. Harrisburg, ah, what the hell, Dutchy, can explain it better. There's a lot of scientific mumbo jumbo, I don't know half of what's going on. Smalls knows more then I do."

Medda nodded, following Dasilva down the hall and through the maze of corridors. And there it was, a small blue cube. Dutchy was hovering around it, barking directions to his fellow scientists.

"What's the situation doctor?"

Dutchy looked up from his work, blue eyes bloodshot from a combination of too much coffee in the last few hours and a lack of sleep. "It's not good, Director."

Dutchy dragged Medda over to the teseract. "It's... Behaving. Like, behaving behaving. If I knew the spelling off the top of my head-"

"B-E-H-A-V-I-N-G"

"Thanks Kloppman, that."

Medda wasn't sure what to do with this information. "How is it behaving?"

"It just is. It's letting off low levels of radiation, gamma radiation, nothing harmful."

"That can be harmful." Medda replied dryly. "Where's Finch?"

"The Bird? Up in his nest."

Medda got on the comm. "Finch, I need to talk to you."

A figure on the catwalk above got up and started moving down. Medda watched Finch move with a cat-like grace, wondering what he saw from all the way up there and why on earth he was up there in the first place. When Finch got down, she wasted no time with pleasantries. "Report."

"The teseract is trying to open a door."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's like a doorknob, right? In one of those duplexes that have connecting doors. If both sides are unlocked, the door can open. We unlocked it from our side, whoever's on the other must have unlocked it from theirs."

There was a colossal 'BOOM!', and everyone whirled around to face the teseract, which was now generating a blue beam of light. It ended in a large, swirling gate that looked decidedly unsafe. But then it stopped, and kneeling there was one man. He looked up, smiling. In his hand was a scepter, a glowing, blue scepter.

"Put. Down. The. Spear." Medda commanded, brandishing a gun. The man looked between the spear, and the people around him. He stood, and the chaos began. Medda wasn't sure of the exact events, but she knew she was shot by Finch and that the compound was falling apart. She had to get out. "Smalls!"

Smalls responded almost imminently. "Yes, Director?"

"Finch is compromised!"

Smalls swore and got down to whatever needed doing. Medda ran upstairs (Thank goodness for kevlar) and out the door to the helicopter. "Start the copter! We need to stop that truck!"

The helicopter took off, Medda aiming at the truck that carried the target. But the target hit first. Something hit the copter, sending it down. Medda rolled out, coming up shooting. But nothing hit.

She swore, getting on the comm with Desaliva and Smalls. "Smalls, report!"

"Compound collapsed. Not sure how many survivors."

"Desaliva, get the directors on the line. As of now, we are officially at war."

Director Larkin stood before the people in charge of SHEILD. "I'm not saying restart the Avengers Initiative, I'm saying we need a response team. I acknowledge the council's decision, but seeing as it's a stupidass decision I have elected to ignore it."

"War isn't won through ethics, Director."

Medda smirked. "No, it's won by soldiers."

The sound of a bag being pummeled echoed through the gym.

A young man was standing there, punching a bag hard enough to break his hands if he was anyone else. His eyes were closed, memories flashing through his mind.

"I've got to put her in the water!" The same man was in a plane, larger then anything else seen before. He was wearing a red, white and blue suit. He was clearly terrified, but a sense of duty overtook him. He needed to save the world.

"Stop! Race, you don't have to do this!"

"The nearest friendly landing area isn't close to big enough to land this thing. And it's carrying a payload. I have to put it down. Peggy, if you see my sister... Tell her I loved her."

The plane went down, and Race's last thought before he woke up in that Hospital room was, 'I'll see Spot again'.

The bag was on the floor, at least five feet in front of him. Race was breathing hard, brown eyes wide, then filled with tears. God, why couldn't he have died?

He was interrupted by someone coming in. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Slept for 70 years Ma'am, I think I've had enough."

"Maybe you should get out, see the world."

Race thought of Spot, and how they had made plans to move to France after the war ended so they could be together. How he had died just miles from France, in Belgium, falling off that damn train.

"The world is so different now, I don't fit in. So, your little mission to get me back into the world failed."

"We're trying to save it."

Chapter Text

84. “Going somewhere?”

Ask and you shall receive! Thanks anon!

Also, Spromeo for good measure. They need more fics by themselves.

Warnings: Use of the f-word (Both of them), Romeo gets beat up.

They didn’t call Romeo Romeo for nothing.

He was famous for his flirtatious nature, but not just for the reasons you know.

“Going somewhere?” A voice said, just behind a young boy, maybe 15.

The boy turned around. His face was bruised, his cheeks hollow, and his left top canine was missing, but he still sported the million-dollar smile that had once earned him his nickname, Romeo. “Well, hello Mr.! I ain’t going nowhere, least not without gettin’ your name.”

The guard was not impressed. “Listen here you little faggot, you aren’t going anywhere.” He roughly grabbed Romeo’s shoulder.

Romeo smirked, “Not even if I offer ta get ya a pape? Every day, youse gets a free pape. No charge, you just gotta let me outta here.”

The guard dragged Romeo back into the depths of the Refuge, the grip he had on the young boy’s shoulder no doubt leaving a huge bruise. He didn’t bother fighting, he knew it was useless.

The man tossed Romeo down a flight of stairs, where he landed at the bottom after bouncing off a step with a tremendous ‘CeerrrACK!’. Romeo had cried out, -what else was he going to do? He was barely 15- and the guard had followed.

“Time to teach you two little fuckers what happens to escape artists.”

Romeo didn’t remember much of what happened next.

He did remember waking up and seeing someone hovering over him. A pair of almost black eyes glittered in the faint candlelight. His short hair caught some of the firelight, but he very clearly had the hollowed out cheeks and bruises trademark of a extended stay in the Refuge.

His hearing faded in slowly. “Ey, you awake? Kid?”

Romeo groaned and tried to sit up. “Ow.”

The kid sat back on his heels. “Your alive, that’s good.”

“Well obviously. Now who the hell are you?”

“My name is Specs, what about you?”

“Romeo. Nice ta meet you, Specs.”

“Right back at you.”

For the majority of the rest of their stay, the two boys were inseparable. Romeo and Specs were never mentioned without each other, until one day when Specs escaped and Romeo was caught.

The two had used bedclothes to make a rope that led down to the window and outside to the fire escape (It was useless, none of the windows lined up with it, but a long enough rope could reach it).

Specs slid down and tore down the rickity old fire escape, stopping at the bottom to look for Romeo. Not seeing the younger boy right behind him, he looked up and saw him hanging out of the window, crying.

Specs stopped dead. “ROMEO!”

“SPECS! RUN!”

Specs obeyed. He ran all the way home, to the Newsboy’s lodging house where he finally stopped and fell over. He knocked on the door weakly, almost-black eyes closed and chest heaving in exhaustion.

The door was yanked open and he was tugged inside. “Specs!”

He was put on a bed and for the next day, he was allowed to rest. But the next night he was up and ready to go back. Much to the confusion of everyone else. “We need to mount a rescue operation. My friend, he’s still in there!”

It took a lot of convincing, but it all passed in a blur to Specs. All he remembered clearly was the others agreeing finally.

Two days later, Jack and Specs were sneaking inside and creeping down the hall. Specs took the basement (No way was he making Jack go down there by himself) and Jack took the upper floors.

Specs found Romeo in a corner of the basement, shivering.

The older boy gathered Romeo in his arms and rushed up the stairs.

It was a day later when Romeo woke up, and for the first time in almost two months he wasn’t in the Refuge. The bright sunlight that filtered in through the window, illuminating the room.

Romeo didn’t really take notice of much else, he instead focused on the two figures sleeping in the bunk next to his, one on the top and the other on the bottom.

They were both sound asleep, (The one on the top bunk was snoring). While Romeo had no clue who the motorcar was, the one on the bottom bunk was easily recognizable.

“Specs?” Romeo croaked, his voice rough with disuse.

Specs was awake and sitting up in less then three seconds, his eyes focusing on Romeo. Then he launched himself from his bed and enveloped Romeo in a huge bear hug.

The two hadn’t let each other out of their sights from that day on.

Chapter Text

Anonymous said: could ya do 4 with some specsromeo?

I’ll do it with a smile!

4. “Guys… Guys where are my specs?”

Romeo loved mornings. 

He loved waking up to a brand new day full of adventures and possibilities. You never knew what to expect, and that was the best thing ever. Right beside waking up next to your boyfriend of course.

Another reason Romeo loved mornings, Specs would often still be fast asleep when Romeo woke up. 

The silence of the early morning was soon shattered by Kloppman tromping up the old stairs, and Romeo groaned. Soon, everyone else would be up and getting ready. Loudly.

It was the one thing he couldn’t stand about mornings.

Soon everyone was up and in the washroom, the towel once again hostage, when Specs yelled from the bunkroom, “Guys? Guys, where are my specs?”

Everyone looked at each other. That did not bode well. 

Specs stumbled into the washroom, narrowly avoiding running into anything. “I checked under the bunk on my side, Romeo’s side, the table, the upper bunk, under the pillow, everywhere.”

Romeo decided he should check. 

Once Specs was somewhere he wouldn’t get run over, Romeo went back into the bunkroom and sitting on a pile of books on the bedside table were Specs’ specs. 

Romeo grabbed them (Careful not to touch the lenses) and went back to the washroom to give to his boyfriend. “Found ‘em!”

Specs put his glasses on, blinking a few times. Then he kissed Romeo. “What would I ever do without you Rome?”

“Gross! Kissing.” A small voice said, and they both looked down to see a young newsie staring up at them. They looked at each other and started laughing. 

Romeo loved mornings.

Chapter Text

This is my first xReader fic.

Honestly Jojo wasn’t sure why he never noticed before.

When he noticed the bags under her eyes, the sag of her smile, it seemed impossible to not notice.

He wasn’t the only one.

The Newsies held a small conference about it. Y/N was supposed to be out for a while, but she came back in the middle of the meeting.

“What’s going on?” She asked, hands on her hips.

Everyone stopped dead, looking at her like deer. She threw up her hands. “Okay, are you guys planning a party I’m not invited to?”

Jojo hears her voice drop with her words.

“No, we, uh… We noticed a few things about you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What kinda things?”

“Bags under your eyes, the jokes, you never really smile,”

“I get the picture. Why are you all worried?”

“Because we care?” Says Pop. The little eight year old went and hugged y/n’s legs. Soon she was pulled into a hug with all the Newsies.

Y/n soaked it all in. “This is why I’m still around.”

Jojo tightened his grip. Like hell she was goin anywhere before he worked up enough money to take her out.

28: I care about you.

32: Why are you doing this?

I didn’t use the exact wording, but I hope it’s satisfactory.

No one ever left you alone.

It wasn’t creepy, it was done out of concern and it made you feel safer. You used to sell with Blues and Tear, two of the oldish Newsies, but a young girl named Pop decided to adopt you one day and you two had sold together ever since.

At the lodging house, you were never left alone in a room for fear of a breakdown with no one around to help.

It was comforting to have someone there who cared. Wither it be Jack, Davey, Race, Pop or any of the others, they all cared about and loved you.

And who could ask for more?

But one day Pop’s older brother Sox decided to join you. Pop was sick, so it was just you two.

“Y/n, right?” Sox said gruffly, especially for an 11 year old.

“That’s mah name.”

“Why do you sell with my sistah?”

“She sells with me more like.”

Sox glared at you, but got distracted. You could see a kid following their nose a mile away.

“Franks! I’ll be right back. I gotta get one to share with Pop!” He took off.

You were left alone.

You were fine for a few minutes, but the crowd pressing in on you made you feel squeezed. The foul air made it hard to breath. You had to get out. Now.

You ran and hid in an alley. Someone you knew being there usually made these easier, but Sox had run off to get a, what had he called them? Frank?

Speak of the devil, Sox was in front of you. He talked soft and slow, trying to help you calm down. And it worked.

You took a few shuddering breaths. “Why’d you help me?”

Sox shrugged. “Pop cares about you, sos I care about you. You’re the only thing she talks about. ‘Y/n did this, y/n did that’. Figured youse is somethin’ special.”

Semi proud of this, I hope it’s okay.

19: How are you feeling today?

Tommy had known since y/n had been diagnosed. He was the one she told.

So he made sure she was okay.

“Hey y/n, how ya feelin’?”

Y/n looked up from her position on the couch. “I… Uh… Not so good Tommy.”

Tommy nodded. “I’ll get some blankets and hot coco.”

He came back four minutes later with a mound of blankets (Advantages of basically living at her house). She had barely moved, so Tommy draped her in the blankets and got the hot chocolate.

A few minutes later he reappeared with hot chocolate and getting progressively more worried.

“Y/n, would you like to watch a movie?”

She nodded, glancing at the steaming cup before going back to staring at the wall. Tommy put on y/f/m and watched it with her on the couch. Both of them had seen it too many times to count, but that didn’t stop the enjoyment.

Eventually he would have to get up.

Tommy would gladly sit with her forever if she wanted though.

Chapter Text

14. “The question isn’t who’s going to let me. It’s who’s going to stop me.”

Yesyesyeyesyesyes!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PROMPT YAAASSSS!!!!!!!! Okay I’m calm now.

___________________________________

Smalls had always been the impulsive of the two.

“Smalls! Who the hell let you do this because there is no way this is the first time you’ve been in here.” Sniper said, jumping at every little noise.

Smalls smirked. “The question isn’t who let me, it’s who’s going to stop me. And no one has so far.”

They were sneaking around a old prison. Smalls had explored everywhere but the last wing, where she said they put the murders. Oh, and Sniper believed in ghosts.

Smalls had it easy, she slipped around with ease being so short. Sniper didn’t have it so easy. She also jumped at ever little noise.

“Sniper, you’re scaring off the ghosts.”

“That’s the point Smalls!”

“Why did I bring you?”

“Race was too busy making out with Albert.”

“Oh. Next time I’m bringing Jack.”

“He’ll be busy with Davey. I guarantee it.”

Smalls sighs in exasperation as she opens a rusted door to a cell. It’s empty now, but the beds are still there. Smalls kicked one and a puff of rust and dust rose from it. “The other parts were more interesting. I thought for sure we’d find a head or something.”

Sniper sighed in relief. “Okay. Can we go now?”

Smalls rolled her eyes. “Fiinnnee….”

They slip back out. They didn’t notice the ghost in the window.

“Damn,” the ghost said. “They were fun to listen to.”

__________________________________

Sorry this is so short, but it was super fun!

Chapter Text

Itey was known as a goofball through his life. From his young childhood in Italy to his new life on the streets of New York City, he had always been bright.

Running around, hawking the paper, walking the city and fleeing the cops. It wasn't the best of lives, always pennies away from starving, but it was sure as hell interesting.

Then there were his fellow newsboys. They called him Itey for his Italian accent (He wasn't the only right off the boat Italian but his accent could be very thick at times) and each had a fantastical name and a even more fantastical story behind it.

Then there was Snitch.

He checked all of Itey’s boxes. But one. He was a boy, and them dating was illegal in America. Sure they could go to, like, France maybe. But tickets to France cost more than either boy could ever afford.

But Snitch and he started sharing a bed to save space and got closer and closer. They became best friends, and one day in the rain they became more.

Lips on lips, murrmered sweet nothings in Italian, and a mutual agreement to move this inside.

After 'hooking up’ the first time it became a regular thing. But as far as Itey could tell, it meant nothing to Snitch.

It was nothing to him.

“No feelings attached.”

Eventually they stopped just having sex and started talking through the night. Learning secrets. Teaching Snitch tidbits of Italian, never enough to understand what Itey said once they were done with their activities.

And then they started cuddling after they finished. And Itey confessed his feelings in Italian every time. Using words he knew Snitch didn't know. Unless he asked Race, then Itey was busted.

It all came crashing down one night.

Snitch rolled off Itey’s chest, both boys breathing hard. He curled up into Itey's side, exhausted, and Itey let his name slip. “So che non abbiamo promesso sentimenti, ma ho sentimenti. Per te, Boccino. Penso che ti amo.”

Snitch knew Boccino. Itey had called him that since they had first met. That was his name, Boccino meant Snitch in Italian.

“What does that mean? I heard my name in there.” Snitch says, and Itey can hear the careful way he picks his words.

Taking a deep breath, he recites the English translation. “I said I like you. In that way. I caught feelings.”

Snitch is silent before getting up and pulling on his clothes. Itey rolls over, away from Snitch so he can't see the tears brimming in his eyes.

Snitch had always been quiet, but now he had no idea whatsoever to say.

He hated talking to people. It was stressful and they judged him and it was a nightmare.

It didn't feel like that with Itey. It felt amazing talking with him. Until that night when Itey told him.

When Snitch hadn't known what to say, so he left. He left the boy he was pretty sure he had fallen in love with. The boy who had been his best friend.

The next day at the gate, Itey was talking with Race in Italian. He glanced at Snitch, but the beautiful brown eyes only met his before going back to focusing on Race.

It hurt. Snitch knew he had to fix it, and soon. So that night he left a note on their shared bunk.

'Itey-
I'm sorry about yesterday. I need to talk to you, I’ll be waiting in the usual spot.
-Snitch’

The usual spot was a unused apartment not far from the lodging house. It was warm and had a bed, which Itey and Snitch had frequently taken advantage of.

Itey jumped in through a window, as per usual. Both boys stood awkwardly before Snitch spoke.

“Itey, I’se real sorry. I didn't want to say nothing. I wanted ta tell you. I…” Snitch could feel himself choking up. This was a bad idea. But, Itey had already admitted he liked him.

But what if he didn't any more?

One way to find out.

“I feel the same way, Itey. I like youse too.”

Itey strode forward, leaned in, and Snitch leaned right in as well.

Many years later….

Itey never thought this day would come.

His wedding day. He never thought he'd see the day.

His once black hair was white with age. His hands were wrinkled, his legs weak. But he was getting married. To the man he loved.

His old hat pulled over his curly hair, adjusting the suit one last time, and grabbing his cane, he hobbles down the aisle with his grandson by his side.

And at the altar waits Snitch. Old and frail also, still nervous about being in front of such a large crowd.

Itey takes his hand. "Non preoccuparti amore, andrà tutto bene."

Snitch nods. “Yha, yha, it's goin’ ta be fine.”

They say their vows, they slip on the rings. And they kiss.

And they walk away that night to go to the airport, to go to France for their honeymoon. Married officially.

The end.

Chapter Text

Buttons had no clue what possessed him to take a walk through Brooklyn that December night, but he was glad he did in the long run.

The snow was softly falling, gentle and lazy. Buttons was very glad for his scarf and jacket, as the cold bit his nose. The chilly blowing off the river was cold enough to freeze boiling water, or it felt that way.

He was sure that if he hadn’t tripped, he wouldn’t have found the short boy asleep in an alley. His clothes were the color of the brownstone he was leaned against, and he seemed to be asleep. Buttons got to his feet, studying the boy. And his eyes fell on a syringe and needle on the ground, almost empty.

Buttons’ eyes widened, and he kneeled in front of the stranger. He was breathing, albeit shallowly and very slowly, but he was covered in snow. He wasn’t even shivering. It could be the drugs, it could be that he had been out here for hours.

Buttons was grateful he was renting an apartment not far away.

Picking up the boy, Buttons got a good look at him. His hair was dark and soft looking, and a few faint freckles stood out on his cheeks. The skin under his eyes almost looked bruised, like he hadn’t slept much lately. His cheeks were hollow, and even through his own and the boy’s coat he could feel the individual bones of the boy’s spine. For some reason he seemed familer, but Buttons couldn’t place why.

Thankful that was his night off from the hospital.

Carefully opening the door, he lay the boy down on the couch and gets off his coat. He turns the heat in the apartment up, shrugging off his own coat. He finds every blanket he owns, and piles a few on the boy with more at the foot of the couch.

With frequent checks to make sure he’s still breathing, Buttons turns on TV as background noise. The silence had been suffocating.

It’s almost an hour later that a rough cough shatters the kinda-quiet.

Buttons is helping the boy sit up in a split second. More rough coughs rocked his skinny body, and he shook like a leaf. Once the coughs stopped for a second, Buttons rubs the boy’s back in comforting circles. He’s still trembling.

The boy looks at him, with glazed and dull brown eyes. He could see how bloodshot his eyes are, and how he doesn’t quite focus in on Buttons. But he seems so familiar, it’s killing Buttons.

Buttons tries to start a conversation, get the guy’s name, age and maybe blood type. “You got a name kid?”

The boy tenses. “None-none that matter to-to-to-to you.”

Buttons is confused. “Of course it does, I need to call you something.” Buttons lies the boy back down, looking for pillows. His voice set off even more bells, it’s driving Buttons up a wall. By the time he’s back, the kid is up and trying to pull on his coat. Buttons drops the pillows. “What’d you think your doing?!”

“Leaving. I have places to be.”

“No, for cripes sake! You can barely stand!”

The boy is shaking on his feet. He seems more and more familiar and it’s killing Buttons to not remember who this is.

And then he faces Buttons head on. Glazed eyes, grey skin, hollow cheeks, all fall away. And Buttons sees Spot Conlon standing in front of him.

Spot wobbled, nearly falling over, but Buttons was there to steady him.

“Spot?”

Spot looked up. “Hey Buttons.”

Buttons had half a mind to let him fall. But instead he helps Spot back to the couch. “So this is where you've been for a year.”

Spot winces. “Look, I’m sorry that you found me. I’ll get outta your hair in a few minutes, just gotta get my bearings.”

Buttons sighs. “No, you are staying put. What are you even on anyways? Meth? Cocain? I saw a syringe, so I know there’s heroin or morphine.”

Spot curled in on himself, reminded of why he loved Buttons and why he left him. “Just-just . I swear-swear, that’s it. It’s the first time-time-time I’ve used it.”

Buttons sighed. “Spot-”

“I-I-I know.”

Buttons sighs. “It’s wearing off from the looks of it. C’mon, lets get you to bed or something moron.”

Spot stumbles to his feet, Buttons helping him stumble down the hall. This is hardly the first time one of them is supporting the other as they walk down this very hall, but this time feels different. Maybe because Spot hasn’t been seen in these halls in almost a year.

The last anyone had seen of Spot was him walking away from this street. From his friends. From his boyfriend.

Now here he was again, pulling on pajama pants that smelled musty and a T-shirt that had ended up in his drawer, although it had once belonged to Buttons. It still held the faintest scent of him.

And then he was under the covers, facing away from Buttons and trying to ignore the ache in his heart. It had stopped months ago, probably thanks to drugs, but now it was back in full swing and he wanted a fucking hit. Or a goddamn drink. Or both.

Chapter Text

87. “You’re so adorable.”

Ahhh… Fluff with Blush. The inventor of love.

____________

Blink flopped onto the couch after a really long, hard day. He hated his job sometimes. At least Mush would be home soon. Mush always made anyone’s day better.

That day apparently not so much.

Mush entered the apartment and collapsed in Blink’s arms. Blink was confused. “Mush?”

“Bad day.” Mush mumbled into Blink’s hoodie. Blink didn’t question it more, he helped Mush to the couch and went to find as many blankets as he can. He piles them on Mush, who hides in his new blanket cave. Once all the blankets set aside for blanket caves (Plus a few others) were out, Blink sat next to the mound.

Mush’s breathing evened out, indicating he was asleep. Blink smiled. “You are adorable.”

“If you say so.” Mush says sleepily. Yawning, the pile shifts a little and soft snores start coming from it. Blink smiles again and curls up on the couch next to it under one last blanket, and the two sleep soundly.

(First time writing fluff, thoughts?)

(Oh, and hi Elmer)

Chapter Text

95. “Come cuddle.”

Spiderman AU because I want to.

____________________________

Racetrack Higgens was in deep shit this time.

With all the stuff happening with Venom, of course he got shot in a bank robbery. In the arm but it HURT. But at least it had been him and not someone else. He would live.

What he would NOT survive was going home to his aunt with a bullet lodged in his arm. His aunt would kill him if blood loss didn’t. Which was how he ended up on a rooftop, curled up in pain. Trying to get his phone out to text Albert.

When Race managed to dig out his phone, he sent a silent prayer Albert hadn’t left his phone off vibrate. ‘Albie I think I’m on your roof’

Albert replied quickly. 'Shit I’m on my way’

Race let his hand drop, his phone clattering away. Okay, maybe there were two places he was hit. And one of those places was his side. It was just a graze, he was fine.

Albert burst onto the rooftop, his eyes taking a second to adjust before he spotted Race. “Race! Oh god oh god.” He was by Race’s side in seconds, rolling him over from his curled position to get a better look at what he was working with.

“You idiot!” Albert growled. “C'mon, I have to get you downstairs. My parents aren’t home, lucky for you.”

Race smirked. “Got plans Albie?”

Albert would have punched him, Race knew that for a fact, but he was considerate enough to not.

Helping him down the stairs and into the elevator. Race tripped over his own feet every other step, so Albert swept him up bridal style. Not seeming to mind the blood rubbing off on his shirt. At least it had clotted for now.

Race didn’t remember much, he remembered seeing Albert boiling water and dropping a pair of tweezers in. He remembered Albert wrapping his torso in bandages. But everything else was fuzzy.

When Race woke up (When had he fallen asleep?) there was sunlight filtering through curtains. Someone was in the kitchen, and he was on a bed too stiff to be his own. He tried to sit up, but his side and arm throbbed. He lay back down, groaning. Albert poked his head in. “Stay down idiot, I’ll help you once I’m done with your gross plain pancakes.”

Race smiled. “Butterscotch?”

Albert rolled his eyes but nodded. Race smiled and stayed still until Albert came back with two plates of pancakes. Sitting down next to Race and propping him up with a small mountain of pillows, both boys ate in silence.

“What the hell Racetrack.” Albert said at last.

Race poked the last bits of his pancake. “It was a bank robbery, I didn’t think they’d manage a shot.”

Albert stood up. “Race, you showed up on my roof with a bullet in your arm! You should be in the hospital, I had to dig the damn thing out with tweezers!” His voice raised considerably.

Race tried to sit up more. “Well I couldn’t let it hit someone else!”

Albert threw his hands up. “I love you, Race, I really do. But I’m going to have to watch them find your body on TV!”

“No you won’t, because I won’t die!”

“Like last night?!”

“No!”

“Race,” Albert’s voice cracked. “I don’t want to watch you die because you had to save someone.”

Race shook his head. “You won’t have to, Albert. I promise.”

Albert shook his head, flopping down onto the bed. Race tried to pull his boyfriend closer. “Come cuddle.”

Albert shifted over, looping a arm over Race’s side. Race kissed the shorter boy’s forehead. “I’m not gonna die. I would never leave you like that.”

Albert nodded.

-----------------

Five years later…..

Race felt time freeze. There was Albert, his Albert. His husband of six months. On a TV screen, dressed in sweats. Fighting Dr. Octopus. And losing.

He could only stand and watch the TV as Albert was knocked into a wall.

'Why wasn’t it me?’

Chapter Text

Fluff!

__________________

Crutchie doubted Jack’s intelligence sometimes.

Like now, when he had just drank his paint water.

Crutchie sighed as Jack washed out his mouth for the billionth time. “You would be the picture of Darwinism without me.” He muttered.

“Excuse me? I would not! Unless it was painted by me, I’m the only one who can paint me.” Jack said, wiping his mouth.

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “You aren’t kissing me until you brush your teeth, you know that, right?”

Jack looked like a dejected puppy.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one who drank paint water.”

Chapter Text

14) “I’m a burden to you.”

(Hurting Race to give Spot a break by indirectly hurting him while directly hurting Spot)

Not a happy ending marshmallows. I’m very sorry.
TW: Suicide, depression (Implied)

Race wasn’t sure what had pushed him over the edge that day, but he regretted every second of that argument.

___________

“Do you even love me?!”

“I..”

“Exactly. You can’t even say it!”

___________

Now that Race was going over the whole argument in his head, he felt worse and worse. He barely remembered half of what he had said, but he knew that he had a lot of making up to do for Spot. He had so much to make up for.

___________

“I can see why this is your longest relationship! No one else was willing to put up with your shit for this long Spot!” Race shouted.

“Like you’re an expert on healthy relationships!”

They had both said things, things they would both regret.

“Well Antonio, tell me. What’s stopping you from leaving?” The venom in Spot’s voice had been terrifying.

“I could ask the same thing Sean, and I will!” Race had replied with even more force.

___________

Race sat on the couch, trying to figure out how he could possibly apologise to Spot. Flowers were too cheesy, chocolates might work. Spot loved chocolate. But would it be enough?

___________

“You are a real asshole Tony.” Spot had looked furious.

“Well at least I don’t have daddy issues.” Race had shot back.

Spot’s expression would have ordinarily made him back off. But he didn’t. Spot stopped fighting back, that should have been a sign. But he didn’t back off. Not once.

“My life would be so much better without you in it!” Race hadn’t meant it. He wanted someone to hurt, and Spot had been there.

Spot paused. “You, you really mean that?” His eyes had been brimming with tears, tears Race didn’t notice.

His voice had been so small. Race should have noticed.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t!”

“Okay.”

____________

One word. And he had left. Not even taking anything with him, just walked out the door. Gone.

That had been two days ago, and no one was talking to Race. If he tried to ask if anyone had seen him in the group chat, the conversation would go on as if he’d never hit the send button. His inbox was empty, and no matter how many texts he sent Spot, he never replied.

Eventually Race got fed up of waiting. He direct messaged Jack.

‘Jack, I need to find Spot.’

And for once, Jack replied.

‘So you make him backslide again?’

Race stood in the doorway, leaning out the door. “All you ever did was slow me down!”

Race put down the phone, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it. Once the pillows had a huge wet spot from the tears and Race, still crying, had enough resolve to pick up the phone, he saw two new messages from Jack and one from Spot.

He opened the one from Spot first.

‘Tony,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m a burden to you. I’m doing what you want, I’m getting out of your life. Out of everyone’s. Goodbye.’

Race had a really bad feeling. He franticly typed out a message to Jack, not even bothering to read the messages.

‘Jack I think Spot’s going to try to kill himself again’

The dots appeared.

‘Did you even read the messages I sent’
Race scrolled up. Race couldn’t stop the tears. It was all his fault.

‘We’re at the hospital, Spot tried to down a bunch of pills.’

‘He’s flatlined twice.’

Race watched a new message appear.

‘This is all your fault.’

It was.

Race wasn’t allowed by Jack to see Spot for months after that.

But the first time Race saw Spot after was Spot’s own doing. He had snuck out and made his way back to Race’s (It used to be their’s) apartment.

Race had been on the couch when someone knocked on the door. He jumped, but went to open the door, stupidly. When he opened the door, he tried to close it again, but Spot jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Race I just wanna talk!”

Race opened the door. “What about?” His voice was rough with disuse.

“Race, you look terrible.” Spot pointed out. Race sighs.

“Yha. You look great to.” Race mumbles. Spot really looked better than Race, but he still looked worse then normal.

“Race -Tony- I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Race said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I said and you died twice because of me.” He felt tears slide down his cheeks.

Spot didn’t move. “I said things to.”

“But I didn’t try to kill myself! You did! Because of me…” Race scrubbed at his eyes.

Spot was silent. Neither moved. Race tried to close the door again, but Spot once again stopped him.

Chapter Text

19) “Please put me down it’s just a sprained ankle.” Spelmer
Grey’s Anatomy AU!

Elmer’s job could get really, really weird sometimes.

For instance: One time he operated on someone who ate christmas lights. Another time he dug a bear claw (A actual claw, not the pastry, thought the experience did ruin those for him) out of a patient’s arm. Then there was the time he dug a tooth, a human tooth, out of his boyfriend’s fist.

That had been all kinds of fun.

But now, running towards the ambulance to rush in new patients, his ankle gave out. And he fell on pavement, skidding. “Ow.” He muttered.

His boyfriend, a paramedic, pulled up in an ambulance. Spot didn’t notice Elmer right away when he got out of the back. He was more focused on his patient. But once the patient was safe inside, Spot saw Elmer sitting up.

“Elmer!”

“Spot, hey.” Elmer winced as he used the ambulance to stand up. Spot walked over and swept him into his arms. Elmer yelped. “Spot!”

Spot started carrying him inside.

“Spot, please put me down. It’s just a sprained ankle.”

Spot glanced down. “You still shouldn’t walk on it unless you want it to break.”

Elmer sighed. “Fine, your logic is superior.”

Spot smiled as he sat Elmer down in a chair inside. “Now take off your shoe so I can wrap your ankle.”

Chapter Text

8) “Are you… trying to flirt with me?” and 16) “You just give off the impression that you want to murder everyone you look at.”

Elias Kasperzak, youngest son of the British royal family (Even though he was Polish), was woken by a bucket of water to the face. He blinked at the sudden light of a lightbulb, and he knew he was screwed. Another kidnapping. He was the youngest, why did no one seem to realize his parents weren’t going to mount a huge rescue for the son? He was not only likely to end up as a monk, but also had no soulmate words.

In short, they wouldn't care. So Elias would have to rescue himself.

Again.

Shaking his head to rid his hair of some water, he looked for the offender. The offenders were a skinny beanpole with spiky blond hair, and a redheaded guy with a lot more muscle behind him.

“Hey, pinze (prince) is awake.” Blond Italian said. Elias sighed. Italians, of course.

“¡No uses inglés! Entonces él puede decir lo que estamos diciendo.” (Don’t use English! Then he can understand what we’re saying.) Someone to the left said. Crap. The Spanish to.

“Beh, non conosco lo spagnolo! Quindi come possiamo capirci?” (Well I don’t know Spanish! So how are we supposed to understand each other?) Blond Italian shot back.

“Just use English.” Redhead grumbled.

Three new people appeared. One looked annoyed, and clearly wasn’t European. The others were probably from around the continent.

“You do know that only you and Race speak another language, right Jack?” One asked, his accent was familiar, British.

“So? Not like I get to use it any other time. And Jojo speaks Italian and Latin!”

“That’s because I grew up in a Catholic church.” ‘Jojo’ said.

“Can we get back on topic?!” Redhead asked. “We kidnapped a prince and stowed him away on a freaking cruise ship.”

Oh. Now that Elias was focusing on this being a ship he started to feel sick. “Um,”

Everyone looked at him.

“I get seasick, so can I, go to the bathroom? Or the rail?”

Someone Elias hadn’t heard picked him up by the collar and pushed him forward. Elias stumbled, but the firm hand on his collar kept him from falling. He was manhandled to a staircase, pushed up, and they found themselves on a deck. Elias blinked in the harsh sunlight, taking the opportunity to look around. The people on this deck were in ratty clothing, and now that he looked down at himself, he was to. He was wearing a green button up, suspenders, and simple pants.

He looked lower class.

Looking behind him, Elias saw his captor. Warm brown eyes glared back at him for a split second before his captor looked away.

Someone tromped up the stairs after them. “Slow down!” Redhead called, joining them. He was huffing. “Siriously, slow down Spot. I have asthma!”

Elias didn’t see ‘Spot’’s reaction, but Redhead huffed. “Oh real funny.”

There was a soft thud and a grunt of pain.

“The hell was that for!?” Redhead snapped. No sound from Spot, but Elias imagined a smirk.

Redhead grabbed Elias’ shoulder. “You gonna hurl or can you go back inside?” Elias shook his head, he wasn’t feeling too sick anymore. Spot yanked him back downstairs, and Elias savored the last bit of sunlight before being thrust back into the dimness.

Once they were back in the room, Elias was put on the bed. Spot walked away, and for the first time he got a good look at the boy.

Spot was short, that was the first thing that jumped out at Elmer. Then he noticed how strong Spot looked. He had darker skin, though that could have just been the light, and dark hair under a cap. And he was handsome.

Holy crap he was handsome.

“Okay, Princy, we can’t keep calling you that. So! You are now Elmer!” Jack said with a sense of finality.

Elias looked startled. “Wha- what?”

“We’re gonna call you Elmer from now on.” Redhead said. “We did save you.”

Elias- or Elmer, he guessed, clenched his fists. “From what?!”

“Nazis.” Redhead said casually. “You know the Germans want leverage against Britain right now. Thank the universe that Jack dragged us all along to get David outta Europe.”

“Why do kidnappers think anyone would care about me? I’m the youngest, my parents don’t particularly care.” Elmer pointed out.

Spot shrugged and did some hand waving. Race watched and made sense of it somehow. “He says that it’s probably easiest to nab you. Well, roughly.” Spot glared at Race.

Elmer turned to Spot. “What was that hand waving?”

Spot froze, looking Elmer right in the eyes. One of his hands went to his side, why Elmer didn’t understand.

Spot stood up and dragged beanpole out of the room.

“Don’t beat my soulmate up!” Red yelled after him.

Over the next week of the cruise, Spot acted strange. Well, according to Race (Beanpole).

Spot left him a rose and a few flowers probably stolen from the Middle-Upper class floors, wrapped in a scrap of paper with ‘Prince Elmer’ written on the top. And Spot gave it to him himself, blushing. Then it was cookies left for him wrapped in paper, and then Spot gave him a daisey. No note, just walked up to him on deck and handed him a daisy.

Then he found a flower crown on the blanket that had become his bed. A honest to god flower crown.

He cornered Spot grabbing cookies from a cart on the deck. “Spot!”

Spot turned around, his face going red. He was still holding the cookies, and he quickly offered one to Elmer. He took it, before asking, “Are you… Flirting with me?”

Spot’s face was as red as his shirt. Backing up, he took off at a run. Elmer was left, wondering why he found Spot so cute when he blushed.

The next day a note with a chocolate chip cookie on top was by his blanket. Addressed to him, in Spot’s familiar handwriting, it seemed to be a romantic poem. That confirmed it, Spot was flirting with him. He wasn’t being subtle anymore, though. The poem was actually really sweet.

He tracked Spot down again later that day. He was doing the hand waving thing at Race. Elmer hadn’t even started to pick anything up yet, but he could gleam what was going on by Race’s side of the conversation. Elmer stayed hidden.

“Well duh he’s scared of you!”

Hand waving.

“You kinda give off a vibe! And for the last time you need to stop swearing so much.”

Spot crossed his arms and turned around. Elmer met his eyes and both froze. Elmer came out from around the corner. Spot’s face turned beet red. Race backed away slowly.

“Um, hi?” Elmer tried.

Spot waved nervously.

“So, uh,” Elmer began nervously.

Spot looked back at Race, but Race was gone. Looking back at Elmer, his expression became frustration. He punched the wall hard enough to probably break his hand. Elmer took a scared step back.

Spot threw another punch, with the same hand, and a few audible cracks rang. Elmer’s concern outweighed his fear. A feeling told him that Spot wouldn’t hurt him anyways. “Spot!”

Spot looked at him, frustration turning into anger as he threw another punch with his other hand. Before he could break that hand to, Elmer grabbed it. “Spot! You’re gonna break your other hand.”

Spot dropped his hand. Elmer let go. “C’mon, let’s get you downstairs. I can wrap your hand.”

Spot let Elmer drag him back to the room they had adopted as their own. Wrapping Spot’s hand carefully, he examined each finger and set the broken ones. “No moving this hand. It’ll only make it heal wonky.”

Spot nodded. His right hand was broken, but apparently Spot was left handed because he grabbed a piece of paper to write a note.

‘I’m sorry.’

Elmer looked up from the paper at Spot. “Just never do that again please. You scared me.”

Spot scribbled something and showed it to Elmer. ‘Why am I scary?’

“You just give off the impression that you want to murder everyone you look at.” Elmer said simply.

Spot’s face fell.

“That’s not a bad thing!” Elmer tried to reassure him.

Spot shrugged and started writing again. ‘I have been flirting with you.’

Elmer laughed. “I guessed.”

Spot sat up and smiled, but his shirt rode up and exposed words. ‘What was tha-’
Elmer knew those words. He looked up at Spot, shocked. Spot looked confused.

“Your, your words,”

Spot’s eyes widened, then he looked down and nodded. He pulled down his shirt. The meaning was clear.

“Well if it had to be anyone,” Elmer said, “I would be glad for it to be you.”

Spot looked startled, but nodded.

“We work this out together?”

Spot’s nod was a lot more confident.

Chapter Text

8) “Are you… trying to flirt with me?”

Spot Conlon was the most oblivious person on this side of the continent. Everyone who had so much as had a conversation with him knew this. He was terrible with emotion, but he was most oblivious to someone flirting with him.

He only figured out he was dating Racetrack Higgens six months into their relationship.

On their two year anniversary, Race was laying it down thick. He knew from experience that it was the only way for Spot to realise he was flirting. It took 15 minutes for Spot to catch on, faster then normal.

“Are you… Flirting with me?” Spot asked, confused.

Race smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

“Well, no.” Spot still looked confused. “Wait, how long have you been flirting with me?”

“Well, two years. But just now about 15 minutes.”

Spot groaned.

Chapter Text

16)“You just give off the impression that you want to murder everyone you look at.” For Sprace
WWII AU.

Spot Conlon was not happy.

He was in a Prisoner of War camp, that wasn’t a happy situation. 1942, and he had volunteered, hear that? VOLUNTEERED to go to Europe and aid British forces in a brief stint into Italy. And he got captured. Because the world was cruel.

So here he was in a Italian prisoner of war camp. Passo Corese, he’d been there for a few weeks. He had made his reputation quickly, as a fighter. The guards had yet to bother him, but he doubted it would last long.

So yes, he wasn’t happy. Can you really blame him.

His bad mood apparently wasn’t enough to scare off a guard. But this one seemed different from the others. Short and dark of hair, with almost black brown eyes. He wasn’t much shorter then Spot, but he was easily the shortest person in a five mile radius. And he was a talker. And handsome. (Sue him, the guy was easy on the eyes)

“Hey, biondo,” Short, dark and handsome called. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Spot sighed and turned around. “What?”

Handsome crossed his arms. “Beh, perdonami, biondo.”

“I don’t speak Italian, Pasta.” Spot snarled, taking a step towards the shorty.

“Hey, no need for violence. And is that really the best you can come up with, biondo?” Shorty said, but he tightened his grip on the rifle over his shoulder.

Spot backed up, eyes narrowed. “Well what would you prefer? And what the hell does biondo mean?” He mangled biondo.

“Would you prefer bionda?” Shorty asked slyly. Spot gave up on getting it out of him.

“Why aren’t you, I dunno, bashing my brains out? Ain’t that what you guards supposed to do if we talk back?” His voice carried venom, but it was seemingly lost on Shorty.

“Well for one I’d get in trouble and I’m on ghiaccio sottile as it is, and for another you’re my way fuori di qui.” Shorty said, as he dragged Spot behind one of the multitude of tents.

Spot was surprised. A guard wanting out of here? “Why me?”

“You’re scary, you give off the impression you want to murder everyone you look at. You’re perfect.” Shorty said.

“I’m in. Now gimme a name so I can call you something other then Shorty?” Spot asked, crossing his arms.

“Call me Ippodromo, Racetrack. Don’t bother with your name, I’ll just keep calling you bionda.” Racetrack said, smirking and ruffling Spot’s hair.

The next few weeks were a flurry of planning and activity. And, for some reason, learning about one another. Spot learned that Race had left a huge family in Verona, aunts and uncles and grandparents and siblings.

Race wheedled a few facts out of Spot, like how he had a little sister named Smalls who loved penguins.

Spot noticed almost no change in temperature, but Race started to complain about the chill. Spot thought he was nuts.

Almost two months after they had formed the plan, Race put a word out that he was looking for ‘Bionda’. Spot found him quickly, the loudmouth never knew when to shut up. Yanking him behind a tent, he glared at Race. “What’s going on?”

Race wiped at his eyes. “We’ve gotta leave tonight. They’re sending me to Africa, next week. If we go tonight we stand a chance.”

Spot nodded. The pair packed what they could, and met by the fence that night. Escaping into the mountains, no one saw Privet Antonio Bartoli again. But a few years later, in Brooklyn, Sean Conlon and Anthony Higgens were seen.

And Smalls was sworn to secrecy about their relationship and story.

Chapter Text

34) “Please tell me you didn’t see that.” and 44) “It’s nothing… just go away.” for Rodger x Race!

Again not beating up Race in favor of Rodger? You know it! I know, this could have been cute. But I wanted to beat my newest baby up. Then make him feel better. Also to differentiate Rodger and Crutchie I added the eye thing, I know AKB doesn’t have two different colored eyes.

___________________________

Rodger never wanted Race to know.

Never, not in a billion years.

But one day, Race saw.

It was Sunday morning, a nice, lazy day for them. Race, for once, had woken up to find Rodger still fast asleep. The sun caught his blond hair in the perfect way, setting it ablaze. He way laying on his side, the side of his face usually covered by an eyepatch was pressed into the pillow.

Rodger cracked open one brown eye. “G’morin,”

Race smiled. “‘Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

Rodger rolled over onto his back, rubbing his eye. “I’ll make breakfast.” When he pulled away his hand, Race gasped.

The eye that Race had always seen with an eyepatch wasn’t brown. It was a stunning green. Like, crazy green. Stunning green. Rodger glanced over. “What?” The combination of colors was disconcerting, but Race was sure it was only because he had never seen them together before.

“Your, your eye..”

Rodger slapped a hand over his green eye. “Please tell me you didn’t see that!”

“No, I thought it was-” Race tried to tell him he thought that it was beautiful, but Rodger was turned over, grabbing for his eyepatch. “Rodge! It’s beautiful. I just wasn’t expecting it. Why’d you hide it?”

Rodger halted in his actions. “You really think so?”

Race sensed his opportunity, “It’s beautiful, just like you. It makes you special.”

Rodger rolled over, different colored eyes glinting in the sunlight. Race smiled softly. “You’re even more handsome without the eyepatch.”

Chapter Text

8) “Are you… Flirting with me?” for Blush.
Cute Blush fluff! And drunk Blink.

Blink had lost count of how much he had drunk when he saw the most stunning man ever. Curly hair, dark eyes, and the most beautiful face. Blink was in love.

He sidled up next to him, laying the charm on thick. “Well, what’s an angle doin’ here?”

The man looked at him. He was taller then Blink by a few inches, and very muscular. He looked confused, so Blink laid more charm on. “The name’s Kid Blink, may I have your’s?”

“Are you… Flirting with me?” Guy asked.

“Yha, well you’se the most handsome guy in this world.”

The man sighed. “You’re drunk off your ass Blink.”

Blink’s smile faltered. “That mean you’re just gonna drag me home?”

The man shook his head. “Blink, this is your house. We live here, it’s our wedding afterparty.”

Blink blinked. “Oh. Sorry- wait. I married the most handsome guy ever?”

Guy -Mush, his new husband, chuckled. “This is so poetic. We met when you were drunk off your ass and flirted with me.”

Chapter Text

49) “It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!”
Angst because you guys asked for it.

To be fair, it had been 11:56 pm when Spot and Albert stumbled into the apartment. But it was close enough that Race and Elmer had still been freaking out.

“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!” Elmer exclaimed, dragging his boyfriends inside the apartment and shutting the door beh. “What if the police caught you guys? We would never see you again!”

“We’re sorry,” Spot offered.

“Sorry isn’t good enough! Do you remember what happened to Jack?” Race snapped.

Spot and Albert both looked down.

“Look,” Elmer said. “If they catch you two, the entire resistance is at stake. You need to be the most careful out of any of us.” He pulled them both in for hugs. “And we’ll lose you two for good. And I don’t want any of you to be taken. None of us do.”

Race nodded. He was red eyed from crying.
“None of us will stay out this late ever again.” Spot said. “Agreed?”

Three affirmations sealed the deal.

Chapter Text

38 and 39) “So that’s it? It’s over?” and “Get that thing away from me!” Zombie AU!
AHHH this took forever.

_____________________

Spot held Elmer tight as the shuffling outside of the door grew louder. Elmer’s quick breaths were almost loud enough to give away where they were.

The shuffling passed. Spot let out a sigh of relief. “They’re gone.”

Elmer slumped back against the wall. “Thank God.”

Spot slumped back next to him. Warning sirens ceased. The zombies were gone, for now. Elmer breathed a sigh of relief. “So that’s it? It’s over?”

“For now.” Spot looked at the beautiful man beside him.

Elmer got up to look outside. “Sun’s coming up, think they’ll come back?”

“Nah,” Spot krept up behind him, holding a salamander he had hidden. He gently put it on Elmer’s shoulder and waited for him to notice.

It took Elmer five seconds to scream like a little girl. “GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!!!!” He shrieked, trying to bat it away. Spot laughed as he took the salamander back.

“You’re a asshole Spot Conlon.”

“But you love me.”

“Yes. I do.”

Chapter Text

5. “Don’t be silly. I want to stay up with you.” (This takes place before The A Team because it just fit too well, and it’s short. And took forever)

Buttons was woken up by a crash of thunder. He’s not a huge fan of thunder, but the person next to him is even less of a fan.

He sits up to see a quivering lump under the covers.

“Spot?”

The lump moves.

“Can you come out from under there?”

Spot looks like he’s considering it and inches a hand out from under the blanket, but another crash of thunder sends him back deep under the blankets. Buttons comes to a decision and slides under the covers with him. Spot buries his head in his chest.

Once the thunder stops, Spot relaxs. “I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“Don’t be silly, I want to stay up with you.” Buttons kisses the top of Spot’s head.

Spot cuddles into his chest. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you.”

Chapter Text

Race hated when Albert’s depression got bad. Not because he didn’t want to help Albert, but because of what it did to him. Like now, when Albert was curled up in his chest after Race found him in the bathroom with a razor in his hand.

Albert had never gotten that far before, which was why Race was holding him tight as he sobbed.

Hours later Albert had tired himself out enough to fall asleep, Race gently kissed the top of his head. “I can’t imagine this world without you, I won’t lose you to.”

Apparently Albert wasn’t quite as fast asleep as he had thought, because he moved a little and nestled deeper into Race’s arms. Race couldn’t make himself complain if he wanted to.

Chapter Text

Spot kicked off his shoes as he entered the apartment he shared with the love of his life, Elmer. Granted, Spot hadn’t been able to work up the courage to say anything about love yet, but he was going to soon! Hopefully.

He looked around the living room, confused as to where the heck Elmer was. Elmer was almost always in the living room or adjoining kitchen. Spot grew more nervous as he made his way around the apartment. “Elmer?”

A soft sob from the other side of the bathroom door confirmed Spot’s worst fears.

“Elmer? It’s just me. Spot.” He said, making his way to the door and trying the handle. It wasn’t locked, surprisingly.

Spot saw Elmer curled in a ball, and he pulled him into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay, don’t worry.”

Elmer sniffled. “How do you know?”

“Because as long as you’re here, the world is better. I can’t imagine this world without you El.” Spot was unwilling to let go of his boyfriend.

Elmer hid his face in Spot’s chest. Spot held him close, never wanting to let go.

Chapter Text

p>

25. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
You asked for it… Newsbian angst, is this the first one? Questions questions.
________________________

Sarah hated everything right now. She was fucking pissed.

Train was late that morning, coffee spilled all over her favorite dress, she worked with infints who couldn’t do anything by themselves today, and then the train was early and she missed it and had to wait for the next one.

When she got home she found her wife, Katherine, home for the first time in a few weeks. Kath was a investigative reporter and had been deep in a story.

She looked drunk off her heels.

“What were you thinking!” Sarah whisper-yelled. Kath was thankfully a quiet drunk, and let herself be dragged to bed.

“Story involved kids.” The redhead said softly. Sarah froze.

“Kids?”

“Kids, all under 13.” Kath was starting to cry. “I helped them as much as I could but one of the little ones is in the hospital, and they’re saying he might not make it-”

Sarah pulled Kath into a tight hug. “Shh, it’s gonna be okay Kathy. It’s gonna be okay.”

Katherine hiccuped. Sarah helped her into sweat pants and a comfortable shirt and got her in bed before changing herself into her favorite pajamas.

Once in their bed, Kath clung to her. Sarah held her close in return.

Chapter Text

p>

Thank you Sparks. And sure thing!

____________________

Kath wasn’t sure she had ever seen her girlfriend this excited. Sarah was bouncing with happiness, dragging Kath everywhere. Kath didn’t mind.

The only time Kath didn’t go on a ride with Sarah was Kali River Rapids in The Animal Kingdom. She had spent too much time on her hair that morning. But she got pictures. Sarah had looked so happy are carefree.

On their last night, after four days, they went to The Magic Kingdom to watch the fireworks show. They were both in a trance.

And Sarah almost didn’t notice when Kath, on the bridge as the fireworks went off above them, got down on one knee.

She said yes, in case you were wondering.

Chapter Text

“Kiss me,” for Ralbert, ATLA (Avatar, The Last Airbender) AU! I’ll admit, I had a ton of fun with this and it took forever.
________________________
Albert DaSilva was in love with Racetrack Higgens.

Albert DaSilva was in love with Racetrack Higgens.

The question was, was Racetrack Higgens in love with Albert DaSilva?

That sequence of thoughts ran through Albert’s head as he watched Race momentarily suspended mid-leap in the air. Then the moment was gone and the desperate battle was back in focus. Albert had to focus.

Fighting the Delancey Brothers was a full time job.

Albert was forced to take his eyes off of Race and get back into what he’s supposed to be doing, which was using his earthbending to get them to stop trying to burn off everyone’s faces. Lucky for them, Albert was probably one of the strongest earthbenders out there.

Race, a firebender, made a ring of fire around the brothers. Albert made them stumble, moving the earth around their feet, as Crutchie buffeted them with harsh wind.

One of the shots of fire, from Morris, missed Albert.

Instead it hit Race.

Albert whirled around. “Race!”

A ‘whoosh’ or water told Albert that the Delancy’s were probably now swept away, but he needed to get to Race.

He lay flat on his back, gasping in pain. The burn was on the underside of his forearm, reaching from just under his elbow to his wrist. Albert knelt beside him, trying to remember any kind of first aid.
Race tried to say something, and Albert leaned closer to hear it, but before he could Davey was on the other side with water, trying to heal Race’s arm. Albert was pulled away.

That night, Albert lay in his sleeping bag. The group had camped out in a cave for now, but Albert hadn’t seen Race as of yet. He was probably asleep. Cruthie’s sky bison nuzzled his hair, but Albert shoved him away. He needed to talk to Race.

Seemingly Race had already been planning on finding Albert, because they actually knocked into each other.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you?” Race said quietly. His arm was bandaged, but he was probably going to be fine.

“Yha, I’ve been meaning to talk to you to.”

Race led him deeper into the cave, the only illumination a small flame held in his palm.

“So um, is this about earlier?” Albert asked quietly. Race nodded.

“I, uh, have a small confession to make.” Race tossed the small ball of flame between his hands. The soft flicker illuminated his blond hair and blue eyes, and Albert couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I like you.” Race said, and Albert’s brain shorted out.

He was silent long enough for Race to apologise and start to walk away, but Albert grabbed his uninjured arm. “Kiss me.” He whispered.

Race happily obliged.

Chapter Text

15) “Shouldn’t you be with him/her?” and 99) “I fell in love with you, not them.” (I did this exact thing with Ralbert but Spelmer is going to be a heap of fun)
Elmer was fine. Totally, and completely fine. He wasn’t scared about where Spot was, why he had been out for so long. Why he was always out of long every night.

He was always home after Elmer fell asleep, sometimes he was home before Elmer and they cuddled together on the couch. Those moments were the reason he stayed with Spot, until now. Third time in four days Spot was out and gone. Elmer had had enough.

He had seen a glimpse of Spot’s phone last night, it had a message on it. “When can you get here?” from someone named Sarah.

Spot came home as Elmer was stuffing his duffle bag. “Babe, I’m home!”

Elmer didn’t reply, hesitating momentarily in his actions. His resolve wavered ever so slightly. Then he started again, shoving as many of his clothes in the bag as he he could. He could fit almost everything he wanted in this bag.

It wouldn’t fit Spot.

Spot poked his head into the bedroom. “El?” Elmer zipped up the bag and turned around, facing him head on.

“I’m leaving. I’ve had enough. Enough of you coming home at midnight without so much as a word to where you’ve been. So I’m going. Shouldn’t you be with her anyways?” Elmer snarled.

Spot’s face fell. “Elm-”

“Save it!” Elmer slung the bag over his shoulder and shoved past Spot. “You and I are done.” Elmer slammed the front door closed behind him. Leaving Spot cursing himself and throwing out a pair of plane tickets. Knowing the ring in his pocket would never find it’s one true recipient.

It was their anniversary, of four years.

Over the next few weeks, Elmer noticed something. He was a reporter, it was kinda his job, but unexplained occurrences he had noticed over the past few years get more pronounced. More people started seeing it.

And then someone caught them on camera.

Two heros, one short and one tall. The tall one saving a woman from falling out of a window in a apartment building fire, with superspeed. The short one, according to witnesses, lifted a concrete beam and freed three kids.

Elmer was astonished.

Over the weeks they started showing up more. Elmer was put on the story.

While he covered the two, he started dating around again.

He was totally over Spot.

Totally.

Anyways, he had managed to get himself into a situation. A supervillain had taken him hostage.

Elmer didn’t see why in the least. Seriously, why. He was a reporter, why would Shorty and Speedy (As he had taken to calling them in his head) save him?

Villain guy was monologuing, Elmer was only half paying attention. Mostly he was trying to wiggle himself out of the ropes. Then, as Elmer presumed evil Villain guy was reaching the top of his speech, Shorty bust in.

It was the first time Elmer had seen Shorty up close. Elmer could only watch as he beat up big bad. He was so writing an article about this. Once big bad was taken care of, Shorty helped Elmer out of the chair. “You’re safe now.” Shorty said. His voice was clearly artificial.

“You are staying here so I can interview you Shortstack.” Elmer pulled a microphone, notepad and pencil. “Now, what’s your name, I can’t just keep calling you Shorty.”

Shorty answered his questions. His name was Brooklyn -He knew how stupid it sounded, but he said his partner was Speedway- and he was definitely a he, and no he was not going to stop with the messed up voice. No he would not reveal his name or face. No he would not say why.

They started meeting more often. Around the same time, he got a new boyfriend. It never felt right, though. So after six months there was a mutual agreement to end it. Over two years he kept running into ‘not right’ relationships.

All while slowly falling for Brooklyn.

It was his second anniversary of breaking up with Spot. He found himself in another sticky situation with a supervillain group who were basically neo-nazis who didn’t like that technically he wasn’t a US citizen. He had been born in Poland. And he was gay. They probably loved that to.

He was sure of his safety, Brooklyn always got him out of this kind of thing. Though that time, Elmer got the feeling it may be a trap.

When Brooklyn bust in by himself, Elmer had a very bad feeling. “Brooklyn! Run!” He tried to warn him.

It was too late, hidden members of the organization (Fourth reich or some shit) had grabbed Brooklyn with power canceling handcuffs. Elmer watched in terror as he was forced to his knees and mask yanked off.

It was Spot. He glared at the people now surrounding him. “Sean Conlon, or should we say Felix Diez. Puerto Rican alien.” The venom in the speaker’s voice made Elmer shiver. He couldn’t see Spot anymore, but it was easy to imagine him shaking in fear.

Elmer feared for his and Spot’s lives in that moment.

Thankfully Speedway was apparently on backup. He was fast, and the Fourth whatever wasn’t expecting him. He unchained Spot and the pair beat the idiots senseless. Spot nervously freed Elmer.

Elmer turned around and wrapped him in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood.”

Spot melted into the touch. “I didn't’t want to scare you. I’m sorry, Elmer. And, and once I got up the courage to talk to you you had a new boyfriend. Every time I thought I may be able to talk to you, you had a new boyfriend.”

“I fell in love with you, not them.” Elmer said softly. “If you want to try again, I’m willing. Just never lie to me about this ever again.”

Chapter Text

17) “I can’t sleep, can I stay here tonight?” and 49) “Who hurt you?” for Spelmer
If there was one thing Spot hated more than how long the walk across the Brooklyn Bridge was, it was doing so when a thunderstorm was about to hit.

He didn't want to be alone this time.

It was the one thing he had never tried and maybe, just maybe, it would work.

Knocking on the door to the Manhattan Lodging house, he got lucky and it was his boyfriend, Elmer, who answered the door. Before he could ask anything, Spot stated: “I can’t sleep, can I stay here tonight?”

Elmer nodded and stepped aside to let Spot in. Spot gladly stepped out of the drizzle that had started on his way through Manhattan and into the warmth of the lodging house. It smelled like Elmer, or Elmer smelled like it. Either way it was comforting.

“C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.” Elmer guided his boyfriend up the stairs into the bunkroom. Climbing into a bottom bunk and gesturing for Spot to join him, the two boys curled up together under the blankets.

Spot was awoken that night to Elmer twitching. Spot was a light sleeper, probably why he noticed.

It was dark, but the faint ambient light was enough to see Elmer’s face contorted in fear. The thunder booming outside didn’t stop, but Spot barely noticed. “Elmer! Elmer, c’mon, wake up!”

Spot wasn’t sure what was happening to Elmer that his brain was convinced was real until he started gasping for air, like he was being choked.

He had to wake him up. Now.

Shaking Elmer, he hoped this didn’t make everything worse.

He was at least grateful that Elmer woke up after. In a matter of seconds, Elmer was awake and sobbing. Spot got a armfull of boyfriend. Rubbing his back, Spot offered whatever comfort he could.

“Who hurt you?” Spot asked after 15 minutes, feeling the raised scars over Elmer’s back through his shirt.

Elmer shook his head. “No-no-no one’s doing it any-anymore.” His voice was shaky, so Spot didn’t push it.

“Okay. I love you El.”

“I love you to Spotty.”

Chapter Text

2) “Stay here tonight.” For Spelmer
Spot Conlon was heartbroken.

Sure, he and Race had ended it due to a mutual disinterest, but that was still two years. Two years of convincing himself he wasn’t in love with Elmer. Long enough that he almost made himself fall in love with Race.

But now he was forced to admit he was still solidly in love with Elmer and there was no more fooling himself. He was in love with the most unattainable person on the planet.

Of course it was that night that Elmer maybe kissed him and they maybe fell into bed and maybe in the morning Elmer was gone with a simple note of ‘That was fun, we should do it again. ;)’.

They did. After the first time at Spot’s apartment they mostly met up at Elmer’s house. The routine sometimes changed, but Spot always left after they were done. It took up more and more of their time though, while their time together didn’t diminish. Time Spot spent falling more and more hopelessly in love.

After almost a year, of Spot and Elmer ‘hooking up’ Elmer tried to get him to stay.

“Stay here tonight.” Elmer asked after a night of activities.
Spot froze. This could be his chance, to start something new with Elmer. He could.

He heard himself say, “Sure. I’ll stay.”

He spent the night in Elmer’s arms, fighting off a sense of foreboding.

Over the next month Elmer started taking Spot places. Dinner, lunch, walks through the park, stargazing. Sometimes they still had sex, but more often than not they went their separate ways for the night.

One day Elmer sat Spot down.

“Spot, I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

Spot felt his heart break in two. “Oh, okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll just go-” Elmer cut him off by taking his hand.

“Spot, I don’t wanna stop being with you. I want us to be official. Together together.”

Spot was startled. “For, for real?” Tears filled his eyes. “I would love to!”

Elmer’s smile was huge, and he pulled Spot in for a hug and kiss.

Chapter Text

95) “Come cuddle.” For Jackcrutchie (I was listening to sappy romance songs while writing this sue me, changed the prompt a little, and it’s short but adorable)
Jack lived for receiving Crutchie’s letters.

Life in a trench had so few bright points, the only bright point in his life and most of the other boys’ were receiving letters from loved ones. Girlfriends, parents, in a few cases with some of his fellow former newsies a letter from a boyfriend in a different trench or who hadn’t been drafted.

Jack was the latter.

‘Dear Jack,
Life is good here in New York. I’m feeling much better since your last letter, the flu decided I was too tough!
I may have adopted a puppy. It’s Blink’s fault, he found her. He didn’t let me give it to Sarah. So when you come home, don’t be surprised if a puppy jumps on you. We’ve named her Finch, in honar of out friend.
Come home soon so we can cuddle, I miss you. Spot and Blink aren’t good company, ha ha.
Ever yours,
Crutchie
10/26/18’

And as Jack penned a letter home to his amazing boyfriend, he did so with joy in his heart.

‘My wonderful Charlie,
I’m glad to hear you’re in better health! You are too tough for the flu, it was stupid to think it could ever get you.
I can’t wait to meet Finch, she sounds like a handful. But the good kind, like her namesake. Jojo will approve, I guarantee.
I’m doing fine, better then fine. I’m sure you’ve heard by the time this letter reaches you, but at 11:00 am today in Belgium, the guns fell silent. The war is over and I can come home to you! I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.
Love,
Jack
11/9/18'

Chapter Text

62) “Do you have a ride home?” and “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.” Spelmer
Spot was not expecting to take care of a drunk stranger tonight. He had actually not intended to deal with anyone. But here he was, facing a very cute, very drunk man who actually fell into his arms.

Now he was standing on the sidewalk trying to get this guy to talk. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Naaaahhhh.” Guy said. “You’re cute. My name is Elmer, can we go out to dinner sometime?” He gave Spot a huge, million dollar smile that probably frequently melted hearts. It wasn’t gonna work on Spot.

“Look, do you have any friends who can pick you up?”
Elmer shook his head, still smiling. “Can I go to your place? I got evicted.” He said this in the most cheery tone ever.

Spot sighed. He was going to have to be nice to this guy now. “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.” He draped his jacket around Elmer’s shoulders, and he promptly pulled it tighter around himself.

Walking with Elmer was like herding cats. He had the balance of a drunk deer and the grace of a bull in a china shop. It took all of Spot’s effort to keep him from falling into the street.

Once they were at Spot’s apartment, Spot made up the couch as a bed and deposited Elmer in it. “Sleep, you’re gonna need it.”

Elmer looked up at him with big brown eyes. “Can I please take you to a movie sometime?”

Spot sighed. “Fine, you can take me out. Once you’re sober.”

The smile Elmer gave him, for some reason, made him feel lighter as he fell asleep in his bed that night.

Chapter Text

18) “It’s late, shouldn’t you be asleep?” and 27) “Kiss me.”

Spot woke up, not for the first time, in a empty bed. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and searching the still-warm side of the bed that was usually occupied by his fiancee.

Elmer was nowhere to be found, and Spot’s worry spiked.

Getting out of bed to locate Elmer, he only had to follow the sound of fast breathing and- Fireworks. That was why Elmer was up. He must have been startled by the fireworks.

Spot found him in front of the couch. A mug full of water lay on it's side beside him, it's contents spilled over the floor.

“El..” Spot said softly. Elmer didn't respond. “Elmer?” Spot said again, a little more strength in his voice. Elmer flinched as more fireworks went off outside.

Spot sat down next to him. Elmer gave no reaction aside from more violent flinches as the fireworks boomed outside.

After seemingly the finale, Spot tried talking to Elmer again. “Elly?”

Elmer glanced up, his eyes wet with tears. “Spot?”

“Yha, El, it's me. You're safe, I promise ya.”

Elmer moved so he was sitting in Spot's lap. “It's late, shouldn't you be asleep?”

“I could ask the same thing.” Spot said with a undertone of worry.

Elmer shifted so his face was hidden in Spot's neck. “I woke up thirsty, so I went to get some water. Then the fireworks started and everything went ta hell.” He mumbled.

“It's okay El.” Spot said, running his fingers through Elmer's hair. Elmer sighed contentedly.

After a few minutes of sitting in front of the couch, Elmer took a deep breath. “Should we go back to bed?”

Spot nodded, and the pair headed back to their room. Once on the bed, Elmer curled into Spot's chest. “Kiss me.” He said softly.

Spot happily obliged. Kissing the top of his head, his forehead, and once Elmer looked up, the tip on his nose and finally his lips.

Elmer slept a lot better after that.

Chapter Text

70) “After everything we've been through, you still don't think I love you?” and 75) “What did you expect?” with Sprace
You know that Redfinch thing I did a while ago? This is in the same universe, just Sprace.
___________________
Racetrack Higgens never expected his life to end like this.

Frankly he envisioned getting tossed off a bridge or shot, more recently maybe starving to death or getting hypothermia.

Getting beat into a pulp and left to die in a alley was never how he expected to die. He realised he probably should have considered it. So here he was, lying on the ground. Hoping someone found him.

Just his luck, it was Spot. Race vaguely recalled he was in Brooklyn.

“Race? Racer!” Spot was at his side in a split second, hands hovering over his boyfriend. “Racer, Tony, c’mon. Don’t you freaking die on me.” Race felt Spot’s tears fall on his chest.
“What is this, Tangled?” Race whispered.

Spot picked him up bridal style. “Shuddup and don’t die on me Higgens.”

Spot carried him back to the place the Brooklyn Newsies had basically taken over, an abandoned warehouse in the center of Brooklyn that had been converted to a loft before the crash.

It was safe, at least.

Spot set him down on a mattress on the floor. He ran to get things to clean Race up, thankfully Race’s blood had clotted. He was beginning to wonder if he had just been dramatic with the whole ‘I’m gonna die’ thing. He was pretty sure that had been overdramatic. He would have a few nasty bruises though. He sat up, however not-fun it was. He was going to regret that later.

Spot came back and started dabbing at his injuries gently.

After a few minutes of silence, Spot sighed. Race’s face was mostly cleaned up, anyways. “Racetrack,”

“Spot, it was just a bad bet.”

“I don’t care Racer. You got hurt, on my turf, where I could have protected you.” Spot said, clenching his fists in his lap.

Race took his hands in his own. “Spot, it’s not your fault. It is not your fault in any way.”

Spot shook his head, and Race sighed. “What did you expect? I’m good at gambling, so people are gonna beat me up. You knew that when we started dating.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I don’t either. Damn bastards even stole the thing I was gonna give you.”

Spot met Race’s eyes. “You didn’t haveta get me nothing.”

“Well I wanted to, and it was a real pretty silver necklace.” Race said. Spot blushed and looked down. “Awe, c’mon! You look so cute when you blush!”

Spot grabbed a pillow and hid his face in it.

“C’mon, after all we’ve been through, you still don’t think I love you? And everything about you, including your blush?” Race said, laughing. Spot pulled the pillow away from his face.
“You’re a idiot Higgens.” He grumbled.

“But I’m your idiot Conlon.”

Spot made him shut up with a kiss.

Chapter Text

7) “I’ll keep you warm.” 13) “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” and 16) “I’ve got you.”

Not the last of this! Tell me if want more of this crew’s adventures!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Race was scared of what the landing party would find. Almost a month after the first landing party, they were back and for Elmer. Race was scared of what they would find potentially. It had potential to be bad, he knew that. Or Elmer could be fine, it was either or.

Of course this happened when they had JUST started making peace with the Klingons. Elmer looked at someone the wrong way, or so they said. Race had looked fine. Of course it had been him who was fine.

Now his boyfriend could be dying. The mass execution of prisnors was tomorrow, they had to save everyone quickly. While Jack and his party took over the search for the commander in charge, Race and his best friend, Albert, ran to find Elmer before it was too late. Please don’t let it be too late. Please.

The corridors were a maze of doors that all looked the same. No matter how many times Boots gave him directions Race and Albert constantly got lost. Finally, Boots confirmed they were in the right place.

Phaser out, Race glanced at Albert. Albert nodded, one hand on the door handle and one on his holster. Albert opened the door and Race led the way in, phaser out nervously. Guards looked up, startled, and Race without hesitation stunned them. They wouldn’t remember he was here later.

Albert lifted the keys off of someone’s belt, while Race rushed to look for Elmer. “Elmer! Elmer, where are you!” He shouted.

“Race?” Someone said softly from down on the end. Race rushed to the source of the voice, finding a bloody and battered Elmer. Blood matted his usually fluffy black hair, and his left eye was swollen shut. Albert came up behind him, fiddling with the lock before successfully unlocking the door.

Albert barely had time to open the door to the cell before Race squeezed his way inside and pulled Elmer into a tight hug. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay Elm.” Race said softly, running his fingers through Elmer’s hair.

Elmer pressed himself against Race as much as he could, relishing in the contact. Race smelled just as he remembered him, his embrace just as warm.

Race gently helped Elmer stand up as Albert, now sure Elmer was okay, went to help the other prisoners. Elmer’s legs gave out, Race supporting his full weight. Race quickly caught him. “Elmer!”

Elmer coughed dryly. “Heh, guess I’m not walkin’ outta here.”

Race grumbled and scooped Elmer up bridal style. “C’mon hot shot, let’s get outta here.” The Zions who had been freed followed Albert and Race like lost sheep out the door and through the halls. Albert hung back to play shepard and Race led the way. He felt like a mother duck.

Once they got outside and the other prisoners routed away to safety, Race, Albert and Elmer beamed back aboard Enterprise.

Crutchie (The ship’s ornery head doctor) wasn’t on board, he was down helping Jack, Davey, and their accomplices talk with a Klingon who would gladly eat them if given the chance.

Med Bay however was staffed and Elmer was safely in a bio bed by the time Crutchie limped back into the med bay. His usually sweet&sour self was no less present while treating Elmer.

Thankfully Elmer wasn’t too badly hurt. (“Coulda fooled me.” “Shuddup Kasperzack.”) Malnourished, dehydrated, a back full of bruises and cuts layered over more bruises and cuts. It could have been worse. So much worse.

Elmer cited that he was impervious to infection as the reasoning. Race sighed in mild exasperation. “You’re a idiot.”

“I know, that’s why you love me.” Elmer winked.

“I know. I’m doubting my life choices.” Race said simply.

Elmer gave him a smile. “Love you to!”

Crutchie groaned in exasperation. “Get a room! That isn’t in my med bay! Kasperzack, you’re good to go. Come back tomorrow. Now go back to your quarters.”

Race, after helping Elmer up, called after the doctor’s retreating back “If you can flirt with Jack and David on the bridge I can flirt with Elmer!”

Crutchie wordlessly flipped them off without turning around. Elmer couldn’t stop laughing the entire way back to their quarters. He recounted the story to Finch, who they ran into on the way. Finch had started laughing to, he was also stuck on the bridge frequently while the command crew flirted.

Elmer, contrary to Race, wanted to actually take care of himself before bed. “I haven’t showered, brushed my teeth, or washed my hair in a month. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a power shower to take.”

Race put on his pajamas and flopped into bed before Elmer was out of the shower. A few minutes after the water turned off, Elmer lay down beside him in bed and pressed himself against Race’s chest. Race sleepily opened his eyes to see his beautiful boyfriend snuggled close.

Race smiled and gently pet Elmer’s still damp hair as the two fell asleep.

About three nights later, Race woke up to Elmer jolting upright. It was startling, to say the least. Race sat up a few seconds after Elmer.

Elmer was breathing heavier than normal, he looked scared. Race gently lay a hand on Elmer’s shoulder. Elmer flinched, surprised.

“Elm?” Race asked nervously, retracting his hand. Elmer buried his face in Race’s shoulder, clutching him to his chest. Race carefully rubbed Elmer’s back, not wanting to scare him again. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” Race soothed.

Elmer slowly relaxed. “Thank you, Race.”

Race fell asleep after Elmer, sleeping lightly.

The next all nighter was almost a month later. Though it was more a point of hilarity. The climate control had gone insane and the temperature was either triple digits or below freezing.

As a result no one got any sleep while engineering (Mostly Spot) tried to fix the damn thing.

It was a freezing period. Elmer was shivering under a pile of blankets when Race entered their room. He was shaking like a leaf. Elmer opened a hole in the blankets. “I’ll keep you warm.” He said as Race crawled into the nest with him.

Chapter Text

62) “Do you have a ride home?” and 64) “What happened back there?”

Elmer didn’t get drunk often. He was a very out-of-it drunk and you could convince him to do anything. After he and Race got together, Elmer decided he was not getting shit-faced drunk ever again.

But then Albert dragged him, Finch, Tommy, Sarah and Jojo out for his bachelor party (Race was at Spot’s). Elmer got drunk, mostly by accident. And he was wasted.

Albert and the others took advantage of that and asked him questions, as they told him later. They all had dirt on him now. (From then on Elmer made sure to save some oreos for them)

Once the party was over and everyone wasted beyond belief -besides the designated sober person, Jojo- everyone called rides home. Elmer called Race in a drunk haze. “Racey baby!” He said happily once Race picked up. Elmer was also even more of a oblivious and happy person when he was drunk.

“Elmer, babe, are you drunk?” Race said amusedly.

“I am indeed!” Elmer said brightly.

Race chuckled for a second. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Jojo’s driving everyone home.”

“Okay. See you at home sweetheart.”

“Love you!” Elmer was officially out of the bar itself and on the sidewalk outside. Albert, Finch and Tommy were with him. Jojo was shepherding everyone to his car. “I gotta go. See you at home!”

Race laughed. “See you at home El. Love you to!” He hung up. Elmer skipped to the car and sat in the middle of the back seat happily. Tommy and Finch shoved him into the window seat so they could cuddle. Tommy and Finch were both cuddly drunks.

Jojo dropped Elmer off first. Race was buzzed but helped him inside. He was sporting a bruise on his cheekbone.

Once the door was closed Elmer poked the bruise and Race winced. “What happened back there? Race, who hurt you?”

Race batted him away gently. “‘S fine. There was a jerk at the bar, homophobic. It got nasty.”

Elmer whined a little. “Raceeeyyy…”

“Elmeeerrr…” Race whined back.

Elmer pulled Race into a hug. “Please don’t get hurt again.”

Race laughed softly. “Okay Elly.”

Chapter Text

58) “I’ve waited for the moment for a long time.” For Redfinch
Finch used to only see greyscale.

That wasn’t uncommon in the least, seeing color was one of the most common soulmate bonds.

The only issue was that he wasn’t sure if it was kissing, touching, locking eyes, he didn’t know.

Well, he knew. Because he could see color now. When he first touched Albert. The very first time, he had brushed Albert’s hand. But Albert hadn’t seen the colors. Not then. And not any of the other times they had touched since.

Finch was okay with that. As much as he could be.

Actually, it killed him inside. Every day. Knowing he was meant for Albert, but Albert wasn’t meant for him. He made up for everything by always being there for Albert. It was the least he could do.

Even if listening to him complain about other people he liked drove a knife through his chest. When whoever he liked broke his heart -they always did- Finch held Albert while he cried, even if seeing Albert cry was like getting stabbed in the gut.

He could do it though.

On Albert’s 18th birthday he almost jumped on Finch when they first saw each other in school. “Finch! I got my words!”

Finch put on a fake smile. “Really? That’s great Albie!”

And Albert froze.

“Albie?”

“Those were my words.” Albert said softly.

Finch blinked. “What?” He said Albert’s words? Albert was his soulmate? And he worked up the courage to lean forward and kiss the shorter boy.

Albert kissed back.

When Finch pulled away, Albert made a little noise of discontent. “Finch-”

He was cut off by Finch dragging him to a more secluded area then the hallway. Once Finch found a deserted classroom, he turned to Albert. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.” Finch said softly, pulling Albert in for another kiss.

Neither pulled away until they had to to breath.

Chapter Text

70) “After everything we’ve been through, you still don't think I love you?” With JackCrutchie
Crutchie noticed when Jack started acting different around him. More careful, randomly coming up to him on the street with random gifts that he claimed made him think of him.

Little drawings and notes left for him around the house.

Frankly it was a little ridiculous.

Jack started spending more time with him to. For a few weeks Jack had avoided him like the plague. Now he seemed to try and spend every available minuet with him.

Crutchie wanted to ask him about it, but he never did. Just accepted the attention and slowly finding himself head over heels for Jack. Which sucked because Jack was his best friend. You couldn’t just CATCH FEELINGS for your best friend!

He yelled about it to Spot one night two months into his crush and three months into Jack being really affectionate. “He’s hot and he pays attention to me and he walks up to me on the street with these little gifts! AND THE ONLY REASON HE BOUGHT THEM WAS BECAUSE THEY MADE HIM THINK OF ME!” He ranted.

Spot blinked. “You don’t know-”

“AND HE GOT ME FLOWERS! Just gave them to me and said, ‘I found these in central park,’ and WALKED AWAY!”

“Crutch, you do know he-”

“SPOT GIVE ME ADVICE!!”

“I’m trying Crutch! Let me talk!”

Crutchie was silent, so Spot continued. “He likes you back, so it’s a safe bet to ask him out. SO DO IT.”

Crutchie nodded. “Thanks Spot.”

“Anytime.”

But before Crutchie had a chance to ask Jack out, Jack seemingly lost interest. While Crutchie fell harder and harder.

One day Crutchie got sick of Jack moping (Because ever since Crutchie started trying to flirt with Jack he looked sadder and sadder) and confronted him. “Jack?”
Jack looked up, startled. “Hey Crutch. How’s it rollin’?”

“It’s rollin’ good, you?”

“I love you!” Jack yelled. Crutchie froze, staring blankly at Jack. Jack hid his face in his hands. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything I ruined everything-”

Crutchie cut him off by kissing him square on the lips. “After everything we’ve been through you still don’t think I love you?” He asked after he pulled away.

Jack’s only response was pulling him back in for another kiss.

Chapter Text

59) “Is this okay?” for Spralbert
Spot and Race were worried. About Albert.

He had been distancing himself from them. It hit Spot especially hard, they had been best friends since preschool, long before they met Race in 1st grade.

And they wanted their best friend and boyfriend back.

But it was hard. Albert always said he was busy when they wanted to hang out and he made himself as scarce as he could at school.

One day, after hardly seeing Albert in weeks, he ran into Spot outside his first class. Albert almost toppled over, and Spot steadied him. And he saw how pale Albert was, how bloodshot his eyes were.

“Albie? What happened?” Spot asked as gently as he could, taking Albert's hands in his own.

Albert looked down, sniffling. “Nothing, I’m fine…” His voice shook and Spot was pretty sure he saw tears drip off Albert's nose.

“No, you’re not. Please, Al, I want to help. Me and Race both want to. We want you to be happier.” Spot said, trying not to let his own voice shake. Albert was in distress and he did not like it one bit.

Albert started full on crying and dragged Spot to the nearest bathroom. Crumpling in the corner, Albert's body shook from the force of his sobs. Spot did everything he could think of to calm him down.

Once Albert wasn't shaking and crying, Spot texted Race to get to the bathroom.

When Race got there, he sat next to his boyfriends and reached for Albert. Albert moved so he was in Race's lap.

Race gently ran his hand through Albert's beautiful red hair. Kissing his forehead, Race whispered, “Is this okay?”.

Albert nodded. “It's.. It's okay. Thank you, both of you.”

Spot, who had also moved to be next to Race, kissed Albert's tear stained cheek. “We’d do it a million times if it made you happy.”

Over the next few days, Albert was with them more. They actually went on a date, they had a movie night. They grew closer back together.

And Albert seemed better.

Chapter Text

36) “I am so in love with you.”

Race flopped onto his back, panting after his and Albert's late night activities.

Albert watched him. Damn he was beautiful. And Albert was so, so fucked. Because he was pretty sure he was in love. And the ground rule for him and Race? No feelings, just sex.

That was all it was to Race.

During the day they were best friends. They knew each other more than they knew themselves.

But it was all just physical for Race. A destresser, as he put it.

And Albert was starting to hate it.

Because he was stuck in a friends-with-benefits relationship with his best friend who he was secretly in love with.

He seriously doubted that Race would ever love him back anyways. Albert had the sinking feeling he liked Spot, over in Brooklyn. He should be happy for his friend, that he found someone who made him happy.

But he wasn't. He wanted that to be him.

And it all came out that night in six words. All the pent up longing and pining and the wishfulness. “I'm so in love with you.”

A sentence that Albert had wanted and never wanted to say. A sentence Race wanted and never wanted to hear.

“You can't be.” Race said, sitting up. His voice was icey cold. “You can not be in love with me.”

Albert felt his heart, as he had expected for the longest time, break in two. “Race I-”

“Albert you can't be in love with me! Stop fooling yourself, you’ll only hurt both of us.” Race got up, pulling up his pants.

Albert sat up. “I'm not! I'm… I'm in love with you, Racetrack Higgins.”

Race stopped in the middle of pulling on his overshirt.

Albert continued. “I know that feelings weren't part of the deal. And that you probably hate me. So I won't stop you. I’ll leave you alone, and I probably should never have said anything. Because now you're probably gonna feel guilty when you and Spot get together.” Albert swallowed. Curse his big mouth. “But I want you to be happy. And if Spot makes you happy, I’ll stay out of the way.”

Race turned around slowly. He stared at him in a mix of confusion and something Albert couldn't name.

“I just want you to be happy. Because you being happy is all I want.” Albert finished, looking Race dead in the eyes.

In the time it took Albert to blink, Race leaped forward and kissed him with all he had.

“I love you to.” Race said softly, pulling away just long enough to fix a stray hair on Albert's forehead. “I always have.”

Albert laughed softly. “Does this mean you’ll be my boyfriend?”

Race nodded, leaning in for another kiss. “It does indeed.”

Chapter Text

31) “I fucked up.” Javid
Jack had been out west, a cowboy. Not quite Santa Fe, but close. He had the life he had always dreamed of.

Minus one thing.

David Jacobs hadn't been there with him.

He had been looking out at the ranch he was employed on one day and had looked next to him to see what Davey had to say.

And he hadn't been there.

And the wave of emotion could be summed up in the three words he spoke. “I fucked up.”

So he took his month’s pay and grabbed a train back to New York three months after leaving. He spent the week long train ride contemplating what to say to Davey once he got back. What do you say to someone after up and leaving without a word?

Up and leaving your boyfriend just shy of a year?

Jack wasn't prepared when he stepped on the train in Santa Fe. He wasn't prepared when he stepped off the train in New York. He wasn't prepared when he walked to the Jacobs residence.

He wasn't prepared when Davey opened the door.

He most certainly wasn't prepared when Davey punched him. He deserved it, but he wasn't prepared.

But the thing he was least prepared for was Davey kissing him square on the lips after.

Chapter Text

3. Please don’t walk out of that door.

Eh, Javid is fun.

_____

David threw the last of his clothes into his suitcase, slamming the top closed. His boyfriend, well, ex boyfriend now, was at work. Still. Again.

David hauled the suitcase to the door, and was about to open it when a sunny, bouncing Jack opened the door with smile that could melt an iceburg. “Davey!”

“Jack.” David replied coldly. Jack stopped dead, the smile not quite leaving his face.

“Wh-what?” He asked, the light in his hazel eyes not fading. David moved to let Jack in. And Jack sees most of David’s stuff in boxes. Jack’s eyes go big. “Are… Are we moving?” He asks softly.

“No. I am. You haven’t been home in weeks, Jack. I haven’t seen you in days, you barely even look at me when you are home!” David shouts. Jack looks taken aback.

“Bu-but-”

“No! Nothing you say will change my mind Kelly. So goodbye.” David said harshly, dragging the suitcase out the door with him. He could get Spot or Blink to get the boxes later.

Jack grabbed his arm. “No! Davey, wait! Please don’t walk out that door!” David can hear the tears in his voice.

“You can’t stop me.”

Jack lets go, lets Davey leave. Lets the love of his life haul his suitcase halfway down the hall before trying to offer any explanation.

“I was working overtime to save up enough money for a ring. And-and tonight I bought it. For you.” Jack’s voice is trembling, and tears roll down his face.

And David stands still, Jack’s words coiling around him. He had been saving up for a ring. To propose.

David drops the suitcase and walks back to Jack, who’s standing in the middle of the hall silently crying. And hugs him.

David is crying to.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to keep you safe.” -Sprace

In the world Spot and Race lived in, safety was almost always a temporary state of being. Especially for two lower class, ‘bottom of the social food chain’ boys who loved one another. Safety was never on the table.

But the feeling of safety was found in one another’s arms. It was found when they laughed together and when Spot watched Race lose -sorry, set them up so he could win big at poker. It was found when Race picked Spot up and spun him when they were alone, when Spot picked Race up and Race would smile.

And in a whispered promise, in the dark of night in Manhattan, Spot made a promise he knew would be broken one day. But not that day. “I’m going to keep you safe.”

Race repeated it back. And they kept that promise until their deaths.

(Short, but sweet)

Chapter Text

152: “ Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night. ”

‘Guys what if when you’re dizzy you’re just seeing how fast the earth is really going’ -Blond dumbass

‘Why have I never thought of it like that’ -Ginger dumbass

‘Did you guys just revolutionize science’ -Ghostboi

‘We did’ - Blond dumbass

‘We need to tell the scientific community’ - Ginger dumbass

‘STOP TEXTING ME STUFF AT SO LATE AT NIGHT’ -Dalmation

‘Or early in the morning’ - Ginger dumbass

‘Hi Spotty’ - Blond dumbass

‘I forgot Spot was in this chat’ -Ghostboi

‘HOW’ - Dalmation

‘We’re sorry Spotty, go back to sleep’ - Blond dumbass

‘What Race said’ - Ginger dumbass

‘Goodnight Spot!’ -Ghostboi

‘Goodnight boys’ -Dalmation

Chapter Text

Graves was so fucking done with this shit.

His eye was starting to twitch. Why was this like babysitting people who should know better? Kids were acceptable and learned most of the time. The ones who didn't were annoying. Looking after some of the Manhattan newsies was like watch a bunch of those kids. But somehow worse.

He still had Romeo over his shoulder and the deaf one by the arm when something crashed. Someone, it sounded like redhead, shouted “RACE!!”.

Well, Graves couldn't say he was surprised. He dumped them both with Hotshot and started to March over when he heard Rafaella shouting. She had it covered, that woman scared anyone.

He caught little Hildy trying to escape. Graves sighed and picked her up. “Sorry lil’ miss. It's your bedtime.” He said in a gruff accent. Hidy pouted and stuck her toung out.

Graves hauled her upstairs and tucked her into bed. Despite her earlier escape attempt she fell right asleep. Graves relished the silence before going downstairs. He swore to God, these damn newsies would be the death of him.

Chapter Text

Spot stared at his reflection. His hair was still puffing up, and all his overshirts were sleeveless. Yes, Race said he adored Spot's arms, but this was a DATE. He had to look put together! This was to impress Race, give him a good first romantic impression. Yes, they'd kissed. But this was different!

He tried gelling his hair, which worked thank goodness. He checked that nothing could possibly get cleaner. He smiled. Perfect. He can go to this date with respect.

He got into his car, which was older and shabby but he'd kept it up. He turned the key and started to drive to Race's house. He checked the time. 5 to 8 o'clock. He was right on time. He rolled up to Race's house at 8:05, just as the street lights were coming on. And there Race was, waiting on the sidewalk with a huge smile. Spot smiled back.

Race opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. "Hey Spotty!" He said happily.

Spot kissed smiled more. "Ready to go on an awesome date?" He asked.

Race nodded and buckled himself in. "I am, let's do this!" He had the classic 'I'm gonna do something stupid' grin. Spot laughed and started driving. He had a great feeling about this. Like this going to become something great.