you know we've got your back from way back (Spot and Dodger)

[brooklynishere]

It was rare, very rare, when Brooklyn was outmatched. It was a point of pride for Spot Conlon that there wasn't nobody who could soak Brooklyn, or anybody from Brooklyn, and get away with it.
He didn't intend to break that track record. This upstart gang from Queens is gonna get their asses handed to them.

...just maybe not today.

His eye is stinging and he can already tell he's going to have one hell of a shiner in a couple of hours, it's going to make a nice accompaniment to his split lip and the bruises blossoming up and down his ribs. Half his boys have already scarpered and honestly, Spot doesn't blame them, they're cornered and even Racetrack wouldn't bet on them winning right now, not without reinforcements.

He smacks one of them across the face with his cane and sees a break in the scuffle, Dodger already darting away down an alley. Spot dives after him.

Queens will give chase, he knows they will, but if he can lure them deep enough into Brooklyn then revenge will be swift and merciless. If they decide to fall back, he'll get them another day, when he's healed up and has the satisfaction of soaking them himself.

He makes it down two more side streets, hot on Dodger's heels, when there's a sudden yank on his braces and he's pulled off his feet with a yelp that (thankfully) gets lost in the yelling and pounding of feet.

He swings out wildly with his cane, but it's not long before he's reduced to curling into a protective ball as boots and fist rain down on him - there's four of them and only one of him, and he still ain't that big.

He's starting to feel pretty dazed by the time there's another, more familiar shout, and suddenly his attackers are falling back under a volley of stones. The cavalry's coming.

Most of the newly arrived Brooklyn boys give chase, but a couple haul Spot to his feet and start checking him over. He waves away their fussing.

"Jus' get me back home," he mumbles, jaw stiff and swollen, and they blessedly don't need telling twice. He refuses to be carried, instead slinging his arms around their shoulders for support as he hobbles back to the lodging house - or more accurately, hops; one of his legs refuses to take any of his weight without trying to buckle underneath him.

They get him back to the house, carrying him up to the bunk room and getting him sat down on the edge of his bed. A hoard of newsies crowds around him, conflicting medical advice flying in all directions.

Comments

[brooklynishere]

"Reckons schmeckons, I definitely won," Race scoffed "Not only did I hear it from someone what saw, I got eyes," he waved his finger towards both of them

"Betting on what?" Spot, despite being the fearsome and competent leader of the largest borough in the city, could be surprisingly dense sometimes.

At which point Race becomes conveniently deaf and instead just looks at Dodger, appalled

"Come on, do you have any idea how much money that is? I-" wait, shit, he hadn't meant to say that, that wasn't going to put Dodger off. He took one look at that little smile and sighed deeply "Fine."

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger didn't answer Spot's question, largely because of what Race said. He smiled again, a bit less worrying, and nodded.

"Good lad," he said. "After all, ain't right to be bettin' on people an' not givin' them a cut, is it?"

[brooklynishere]

"Wouldn't have even known about it if I hadn't opened my big mouth." Race muttered, backing towards the door. "I'll be back with your cut in a minute... give you two a little, yanno, alone time." he winked cheekily, because it was still Race, and Race loved love.

He ducked out the door, leaving a startled looking Spot who had just twigged what the bet was all about.

"That sonofa-"

[artfuldawkins]

"You think I don't know what bets are goin' down?" Dodger calls after Race as he duckes out the door. He shakes his head, and looks at Spot. A small frowned creased his forehead.

"... You only just work it out there?"

[brooklynishere]

Once Race was out the room, Spot sagged a little more, leaning against Dodger without even thinking about it.

"Race gets those boys betting on everything, I ain't got time to keep track of them all." not when Dodger did it for him, not when he knew Dodger would tell him if there was anything important coming up - or anything he'd want to get in on. "Shoulda known they'd be watchin' at the door, the brats."

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger placed his arm around Spot's shoulders without thinking on it, an old gesture that every newsie used. That he might have squeezed the shoulder, just slightly, might be entirely them but that was no one's business but theirs. He gives a shrug himself.

"They been bettin' on which we'd do first - kill each other or," he tilted his head, knowing Spot knew the end of that sentence without it being said. There was a pause. "Not to worry. Just goin' to remind them of their dues." There wouldn't be anymore bettin' on them, and those that started it... Well he had a few scares in mind for them.

[brooklynishere]

Or

Spot knew he didn't need to start worrying about the betting, not when he knew Dodger would deal with it, so instead he just sighs despairingly at the antics of the boys - and Race - and the fact that the gossip had damn well made it to Manhattan in an hour or two or however long he'd been sleeping, and turns his head to look at Dodger.

Instead, he thinks about that 'or'.

And leans in to kiss Dodger again.

[artfuldawkins]

They both knew that newsies gossiped like old washerwomen. Anything could spread from the furthest apart boroughs and it would take less time than it took those boys on the bikes to get their messages delivered. Maybe this was a bit quicker than normal, but not too out of the ordinary.

He is okay with the kissing - more than okay, actually. He's smirking against Spot's lips, and pulls back a bit earlier as he starts laughing. There's that Artful charm there though.

"So I look after you real good?"

[brooklynishere]

"Shut up," Spot scowled, giving him a shove "I just said that to wind up Jack."

He had, yes, but it was also true - not that Spot would admit to that with Dodger laughing at him.

Still, he can't be too mad, not when Dodger's so charming about it, and he's quick to lean in for another kiss.

[artfuldawkins]

"Not sayin' anythin' against windin' up Jack Soddin' Kelly," Dodger replied, still smirking a bit. "Especially when you're talkin' about how we had a real special evenin'," there's still more of a tease in it.

But he shuts up when he's. Even if that smirk doesn't die down.

[brooklynishere]

"I did say that, didn't I...." Spot says quietly, between kisses "and you wouldn't want to make me a liar, would you Dodger?"

He draws back a little so he can smirk devilishly, hoping his meaning is as plain as he intends it to be.

Which is right around the point that Racetrack comes clattering back into the room, deliberately noisy and equally deliberately not looking towards Spot's bed right away.

"Whatever you's are doin' you can stop it I've got your money."

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger can't help the small lick of his lips as Spot leans back. This day had definitely taken a very different turn from what it was looking to be when he got up that morning. He pushes forward, moving himself towards Spot.

And then Racetrack comes back into the room. Dodger closes his eyes.

"... I might actually fuckin' kill you one day," he comments, not looking over at Race. There's a deep intake of breath, and he pushes himself off the bed, and goes over. "Alright, fork it out, an' remember. Not a good idea to bet on the bloke what runs the territory."

[brooklynishere]

Race has the decency to look a little guilty - but not too much, it seems pretty fair turnabout giving that Dodger's about to take half his winnings.

"Yea, yea, I didn't start it," he grins, holding a handful of coins out to Dodger "Go on, take it so I can get out of here, get Jack back to Manhattan."

[artfuldawkins]

Oh, let Race feel himself as not guilty as he likes. He'll find the next day he tries to get into the races, he'll be stopped by a couple of the bigger newsies in the area. Dodger didn't take too kindly to getting cockblock. Might as well make Race experience his own version of that.

"Yeah I know you didn't," Dodger rolled his eyes, before he started counting out the coins - taking exactly half and no more. Well, Race paid his dues, and there weren't any real need to take more than they'd agreed on. He gives a nod. "Better take the Cowboy home to the ranch."

[brooklynishere]

"I'll leave you boys to it." Race flashed them a cheeky grin and a wink, dropping the remaining coins back in his pocket. Sure, it was less than he'd expected to come away with, but he was still pleased with his winnings. He turned on his heel and strolled out cheerfully - far more cheerfully than he'd be strolling tomorrow, when he gets to Sheepshead.

Spot just sighs.

"Dodge... come back to bed."

[artfuldawkins]

It was relatively free coin, of course Race was going to be pleased with that. Any kid breaking their back to earn a crust was going to pleased with free coin that they could keep in their pocket for just a minute. They'd hear his yells tomorrow, for sure, but for now, let him be happy.

Dodger turns, and raises an eyebrow, climbing back on to the bed. He holds himself just near Spot. "Reckon we've got time before the kids come runnin' back in?"

[brooklynishere]

Spot shrugs. What little time they had to themselves mostly stolen away by Jack and Race already, but he'd take what he could get. It was par for the course, really, just another part of life being the leader of Brooklyn.

"Not a lot of time," he conceded "So shut up."

They had maybe ten more minutes before the kids got antsy and started bothering them again, so Spot leaned in to make the most of it and kissed Dodger again.