fandom-what-ifs: “Thanks again for letting me stay here,” you thank Crutchie from where you sit on y
fandom-what-ifs: “Thanks again for letting me stay here,” you thank Crutchie from where you sit on your bunk, which is right next to his. Although, the two nights you’ve stayed here, Crutchie’s never slept on the bed. He’s slept on the roof with his friend, and the Newsies’s leader, Jack. His eyes sparkle, and your friend flashes you his trademark wide grin. “Anytime, (y/n). After all you did for me in da Refuge, it’s da least I could do to help ya out.” You smile at him once more before laying down for the night, pulling one of the Lodging House’s raggedy blankets up to your chin. Crutchie was nice enough to bring you to the Lodging House last week, and Jack gave you your own, small room in the Lodging House. After the refuge was shut down two weeks ago, you were left roaming the streets, begging for food. Until you were reunited with Crutchie. While the two of you were in that Hellhole together, you stole food for him when he was sick and couldn’t get out of this bunk. He always begged you do not to, but you couldn’t see him or the other kids suffer more than they had to. Especially when you knew he’d do the same for you. Anyway, Crutchie found you a couple of days ago on a street corner, sleeping with nothing but a newspaper to block most of the wind. His friends Jack and Specs carried you back to the lodging house, where you’ve been recovering for the past three days. Now, because you’re only a good night’s sleep from healthy, while the rowdy newsboys, you, and Katherine were eating dinner at Jacobi’s, Crutchie and Jack deemed it time for you to start selling. The boys had all cheered and began arguing over who would sell with the first “Girlsie” as they affectionately named you. Jack would be gone with Katherine tomorrow and would not be able to help you, and Crutchie didn’t think it was best for you to sell with him, so Jackie assigned his third in command (a boy called Race) to show you the ropes the next day. Race’s mischievous eyes had met your (e/c) ones, and he grinned at you while the other boys groaned. You had smiled back. And now you’re lying awake in your bunk, unable to sleep because you can’t get that damned boy’s face out of your mind. _____________________________________________________________ “You hungry?” Race asks you. “It’s almost time for lunch.” You had woken up with the bell this morning with the rest of the boys, and gotten fifty papers from Weasel before heading off into the bustling city of New York to sell with Race. “Yeah, I could eat,” you reply, and he grins. “Great, I’s starvin’. I usually meet Romeo and Specs at the bakery around now, and we all chip in for some bread. Sound good?” You nod and look away from him as you walk. “I hope I have enough to help you guys get some bread.” You look down at your dirt-covered boots. “I didn’t sell too many papes.” Race glances over at your sad face and bumps your shoulder with his lightly as you walk, making you giggle shyly. “Ah, it’s just because you’s a goil. Them rich bastards already tink they’s too good to buy from us guys, let alone you. Katherine calls it…” He trails off, looking up at the sky as he thinks for the right word. You giggle at the way his lip curls and his eyebrows furrow together, but look away quickly. You can’t think of him that way. “Ah!” Race exclaims, snapping you out of your thoughts. “They’s sexist. Dat’s the word Plums told me when she had a bad day at da Woild. ” You stay silent, and he stops walking, turning you around to face him. “But I isn’t sexist,” Race announces. “And those rich folks is stupid. You’s twice as good as any a ‘dem, let alone us Newsies.” Laughing, you shrug his arm off gently. His eyes flicker with disappointment, but you don’t notice. “Thanks, Race. Now come on, we don’t want to–” “Ha! Ya got yourself a girl now, do ya?” A voice from behind you jeers. You turn around quickly to see two similar looking, beefy men leering at you and Race. Your companion is quick to step between you and your offenders, and you frown in confusion. This is the most tense and threatened you’ve ever seen Race. “Beat it, Oscar,” he orders through clenched teeth. The man who had spoken before–Oscar–glares at Race menacingly as the other man circles around the both of you, giving you an uneasy feeling. “She’s a pretty one too. Even if she is dressed in your disgusting clothes. You glare at him and he grins, stepping closer to you. That action alone sets you on edge. You spent too much time in the Refuge to let a man look at you like that, especially when he’s that close. You kick him where it hurts, take Race’s arm and run. “That bitch!” you hear one of them scream behind you. You turn the corner to go down a different street, but are pulled to a quick stop by Race’s hand catching yours. “No, this way!” He leads you down the street the opposite way you were planning on going, and the two of you slip into a narrow alleyway. One wall is lit with the light of the noon sun, and Race is quick to press you against the opposite one. The wall cloaked in shadows. Your back hits the cool brick, and the two of you are blanketed in darkness. Just in time, too: The two men you were running from rush right past your hiding spot, both of them red in the face from anger. Only when you know they’re gone do you notice how close Race is to you. His hands are on either side of your shoulders, caging you into the wall. The rest of his body can’t be more than a couple of inches away from you, and his face is turn toward the street, scanning for any more signs of danger. He’s beautiful. The side of his face you can see has a bit of dirt smeared across his cheek, but in the best way. His hat sits atop his blonde curls loosely, but it’s brim casts another shadow over his eyes that the wall couldn’t offer, making his blue eyes stand out in a beautiful way. The young man’s lips are slightly parted, as he’s still catching his breath from your run, and he had stuck his cigar in his vest pocket. You attempt to shake the blush out of your cheeks, and clear your throat. Race’s blue eyes turn to yours, and you look down at your feet briefly before meeting his gaze. “Who were those men?” His eyes flicker over your face briefly before resting in your eyes, and his body doesn’t move an inch as he replies: “Oscar and Morris DeLancey. Even after the strike, they still give us problems.” “DeLancey,” you mutter to yourself, not really paying attention to the conversation as you’re too busy looking at him. Neither of you have made an attempt to move. “I’ve heard that before. They’re the ones who hurt Crutchie.” “Yeah…” He closes the small gap between the both of you, and his lips meet yours slowly; softly, yet passionate. He readjusts one arm to wrap around your waist and the other at the base of your neck. You tangle your hands in his hair, accidentally knocking his cap off of his head and onto the ground. The two of you kiss for a good two minutes before he pulls away for air, setting his forehead against yours as you breath heavily together. His torso is pressed firmly against yours, and you revel at the feeling. You giggle nervously, and he laughs too. “We should probably get to lunch,” you suggest. He grins lopsidedly and presses one more kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Yeah, probably.” You pick his cap up off of the ground and brush the dust away before placing it back on top of his blonde curls. He catches your hand in his before it falls back to your side, and interlocks your fingers. “Let’s go.” Blushing, you let him lead you back out to the street. Along the way, he sticks his unlit cigar in his mouth, and after a couple minutes of walking, you reach the bakery and see Specs and Romeo waiting outside. Race drops your hand and winks at you before the both of you reach your friends. “Where the hell have you two been?” Specs asks, looking over the both of you suspiciously. “And what happened to your hair?” Eyes widening, your hands fly up to you (h/c) locks, and you feel the tangled mess it has become. It has to look like a birds nest! Race chuckles out loud as you attempt to smooth it down the best you can, and Romeo punched Specs lightly in the arm. “Ah, c'mon, Specs! That how you treat a lady?” Romeo turns to you and winks. “You’s still as beautiful as eva, miss (y/n).” You smile down at him gratefully, even though you know his words are only meant as pointless flirting. Race’s smirk disappears when he sees you smile at Romeo, and he hurriedly says: “We just had a little run in wit’ da DeLancey’s. No big deal.” -- source link