them brooklyn boys⚡️sprace

Oh my god they were roomates

Race woke up with a big gulp of air. He assumed he'd been dreaming about something bad. The room was dimly lit, and it took him a minute to realize that he was in  Manhattan now, not Brooklyn. He didn't remember anything from last night besides the fact that Spot had almost fell of the Brooklyn Bridge and then kissed him, but that's okay. He rolled over to find Crutchie staring at him from the other bed.
"Does you need somethin'?"
"Spot. He broughts you in last night. Why was you ovah in Brooklyn so late?"
"None of ya business."
"Is youse together?"
"What? No? I'm not queer."
The word tingled on his tongue.Of course he wasn't ashamed of liking Spot, and he's sure Spot wasn't ashamed of liking him. And he obviously didn't wanna lie to Crutchie.
"Well, if you was I wouldn't think youse was weird."
Race looked down at his bedsheets.
"Ise wouldn't think I was weird either."
He mumbled, getting up and grabbing his shoes.
Apparently everyone else was still dead asleep because nobody had caught their conversation. Race planned to go and talk to Jack because he was the only other Manhattan newsie ( that he knew of )  who he could talk to about whatever was..happening between him and Spot. Race finished talking to Crutchie and then pulled himself out of bed. It's not like he would be getting much times there anyway. He found Jack sitting alone in the other room. Well, alone with Davey.
"Race."
"Hey-um, if news not a good time then I can go, and, uh-"
Davey glanced at Jack before motioning for Race to come sit.
"You know, right?"
"Oh. Yeah. And about knowing stuff, I..."
"Owe me a dolla."
Jack smirked, he knew Race knew he knew something happened.
"Yah, Yah. Somethin' did happen. Spot almost fell to 'is death on Brooklyn Bridge. Ise saved him."
"And?"
"And nothin'."
Jack inhaled, before staring Race dead in the eyes.
"Antonio Racetrack Higgins Ise has known you for as longs as Ise can remember. I knows when you ain't tellin me somethin'."
Race whined, stomping his foot against the table.
"Fine! He kissed me. Is that what ya wanted to hear Kelly?"
"Exactly."
Race tried to stay serious but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips.
"Are you gonna go see him today?"
Race shrugged, twisting his cigar.
"I don't know. Yesterday was pretty eventful for him, he probably ain't even working."
"All the more reason for you to go over there!"
Davey exclaimed, poking at Race.
"Stop!"
Race whined again, still trying to hide the smirk.
"I'll go, I'll go. But if anyone sees us togetha wese all screwed. Also, Crutchie suspects somethin'."
Davey tilted his head.
"He saw Spot bring me in last night. Asked me if wese was togetha."
"You say no?"
"Duh."
Race said, shifting his weight. He was the one who entered the room but it was getting uncomfortable and he was itching to get out. It felt like they were doing something..illegal.
"He could move in with us!"
Davey suggested.
"Yeah, that would really help our case Dave."
"Plus, he ain't gonna be walkin' three houa's every day from here ta Brooklyn & back."
"He could become the leader of Ma-"
"NU UH. NO WAY AM I GIVING UP MY SPOT AS LEADER SO RACE'S BOYFRIEND CAN SEE HIM EACH DAY."
"Okay, okay, keep ya voice down."
Race left the room, not sure if they even noticed.
He snuck out of the Lodging House, worrying the newsies would take to much note of him being in Brooklyn so much. He was sacred, sure. I mean, they'd kinda just kissed and that was it. Not much of a deep discussion, but maybe that was how it was supposed to go. Hell, Race didn't know. He did know that he was biting back a smile thinking about Spot, though. It faltered as he turned a corner, shortly after arriving in Brooklyn. Two boys, presumably Brooklyn Newsies, stood over a younger Richmond kid, who Race recognized.
"Fellas. Ise sure there is no need for 'dis."
He said, after scoping the situation.
"Yeah? Well maybe they'd should think twice befo' rippin' us off!"
The other Newsie nodded, Race had no idea what they were talking about.
"Huh?"
"Richmond. Says theys would pay us to sell in Brooklyn fo' a week. Neva did."
Race grabbed the younger kid by the shoulder, pulling him up.
"Go."
He watched as the kid sprinted away, making sure he got to the bridge alright.
"Now..."
And then, suddenly, it all went black.
-
Races eyes fluttered open, there was an unusual amount of light in whatever room he was in. He took glances around the room before trying to roll over onto his back.
"Ow. Shit."
He mumbled, exhaling.
"Yer awake!"
Said a voice, who Race identified as Spots a minute later. He walked over to the bed Race was on and sat down.
"Da hell happened?"
Race asked, lifting up his shirt revealing black and blue spots scattered around his rib area.
"Hotshot found ya in an alleyway. Thank god. Dragged yer body back here. You're a dumbass, you know that right?"
"Thank God?"
Race said, with a smirk.
"Oh my god. Racetrack Higgins, practically beat ta death still has a sense of humor."
Spot leaned ( Race thought for a kiss ) and ended up touching Races nose with his fingers.
"Ow?! The hell was that for?!"
"It's broken."
"The hell? Howda you know?"
Spot sighed, getting up and walking over to a cabinet, pulling out what looked like some sort of gauze.
"Hotshot got this from Ike, and then he gave it ta me. 'Possed ta help. Not fo' ya nose. Your, uh, torso."
Race glared at him, watching as he went over and closed the door.
"What?"
He asked, walking back over. Race didn't break his grumpy stare, even when Spots face was centimeters from his. Even when their lips were connected. Even when..well, he cracked a smile, reconnecting their lips.
"Isn't this, like, illegal?"
Race asked, after pulling away.
"Has that ever stopped you from doing something Racetrack?"
Race rolled his eyes up into his head, as to think about it.
"Nah."
He said, continuing to kiss.
"Please get a room."
Races heart leaped out of his chest and Spot flung himself across the room before they both realized that it was Jack.
"Kelly!"
Spot hissed, settling his shoulders.
"We'se in a room! With da door closed! Ya just barged in, idiot!"
"You was the one asked me to come ovah!"
Jack yelled, closing the door again.
"The hell happened to ya Race?"
Jack asked, starting to rummage through the drawer of a dresser in the corner.
"Hey! Whadda ya doin'?!"
Spot yelled, shoving Jack away from the dresser.
"Ike says he gave Hotshot some stuff that would hel-"
"Ise already did it."
Race cleared his throat, motioning for Spot to come sit next to him.
"Two Brooklyn boys. They was 'bout to beat up some little Richmond kid. I tried to 'elp him out, but.."
Race gestured at his body. His lip was cut, his ribs were practically broken, his eye was black. His head was ringing, too.
"Them Brooklyn Boys busted ya up pretty bad."
Jack mumbled, sitting on the ground.
"Ay! Ise a Brooklyn Boy."
Spot argued.
"Youse THE  Brooklyn Boy, ya ain't gonna bust no one up unless they really upset ya!"
Spot grunted, running his fingers through Races hair. 
"He's spendin' the night heres."
Spot stated.
"No. Wese gettin' him back ta Manhattan."
"Jack, it's three houas. It'll kill 'Im."
Race coughed, to grab the attention of the other boys.
"Father...boyfriend."
Spot flushed, he hadn't been called anything official yet.
"I'm not ya father."
Jack groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Whateva'. Jack. I think it would be best for me ta..stay here. At least for the night. I can't risk getting anymore hurt."
"This better not be just so youse can make out with Spot."
"What?! No."
-