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

[artfuldawkins]

"Bunked down in a churh for a bit," he says. "Learnt a bit of Bible. Weren't allowed a service though. Too ragged fer that."

But that question... Dodger frowned, trying to remember. "There was one," he said slowly, "it were a game for us." He's trying to remember. "Something she did when we needed a laugh." He tilts his head, looking up for a few moments.

He's not sung in years. The nearest he got was humming. But, slowly, hesitantly, words come out.

"...I'd... do anythin', fer you dear, anything," his voice is halting, slowly, and rusty with disuse. "For you mean everything to me..."

But the tune, that might be familiar.

[brooklynishere]

It was hesitant and rusty, but there was a hint there of a good voice, as though with a little practice it would come back. Despite the rustiness, though, Spot somehow thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Then he realised he'd heard it before... well, not the words.

"You were hummin' that..." he said quietly, almost in awe "The day I got soaked, I heard ya..."

You mean everything to me

It was just a pretty song, Spot, he didn't mean anything by it...

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger tried not to look at Spot, trying not to think of anything related to those words. "I didn't remember the words." But maybe he did, if he could call it back there. It was shakey ground, very shakey. Maybe Spot would buy it?

The tips of his ears were red. He was avoiding things again.

There was one thought that kept forcing his way into his head.

"Sang that last time I saw her."

[brooklynishere]

Spot doesn't know if it's the song or the blushing or the vulnerability in that simple confession, but he's suddenly overcome with a desire to kiss Dodger again. He's told Dodger things he's never told anybody, things he never even told Jack, and he's pretty sure nobody else in the whole of New York, the whole United States even, knows as much about Dodger's past as Spot does now.

He doesn't do emotions and feelings, had promised himself not to think or talk about any of that, but he can't help it. He puts the nearly empty gin bottle down on the rooftop and half lunges at Dodger, kissing him like... like he's trying to tell Dodger everything he's feeling without having to say it.

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger has spent far too long running from the emotions connected to Nancy's death. He's spent far too long running from her death in general. It was easier, he thought, to run than to face it. But he told Spot. Spot knows more about him than anyone in this damn country.

He puts his own bottle down, and kisses back fiercely, fingers curling into the shirt and pulling him close.

[brooklynishere]

It's possible they should really still be talking, actually coming to terms with the horrible things they've experienced, but the fact they talked about it at all feels like enough for one day. That may be the gin talking, or it may be the fact that Spot's frankly allergic to talking about emotions.

This, on the other hand, this he's very happy to do. He moves over to climb onto Dodger's lap without breaking the kiss, one hand sliding up into Dodger's hair and the other clinging to his shirt.

[artfuldawkins]

Talking about things was not something Dodger ever did. He looked at his traumas and either repressed and denied they ever happened, or ran as far as he could from them, still pretending that they never happened. One day, he was going to need to find a better way of dealing with it all. That wasn't today.

Today he was just pulling Spot as close as he could, kissing hard, and trying to forget anything that wasn't the sensations of the here and now.

[brooklynishere]

Dodger tastes like gin, it makes Spot feel drunker than he already is.

He breaks away to catch his breath, though he takes the time to start kissing his way down Dodger's neck instead. He pulls Dodger's collar aside so he can bite down, wanting to leave a mark, some tiny visible sign that Dodger is his - even if it will be hidden by his clothes.

Once he's content with the results of his attentions, he soothes over the skin with his tongue and kisses his way back up to Dodger's ear.

"I want you..." he murmurs, voice low.

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger can taste the gin on Spot. It's not his usual taste but it's something that he's drinking down like it was the liquid itself. There isn't much thought going on beyond the basic need and want that was thudding through him and making him grip Spot closer. There's a slight hiss at the bite, and there's a brief thought of wondering if he should bite back.

He'd like to see that.

"Ain't the only one wantin'," he mutters back, hand gripping lower.

[brooklynishere]

"Good." Spot grins, nipping at his earlobe. His fingers start work on the buttons of Dodger's shirt - it's a warm enough day that even though they're outside Spot thinks they can get away with showing a little more skin, and he definitely wants to see more of Dodger's skin. Wants to see more of Dodger's everything.

He presses closer, grinding his hips down against Dodger, desperate for more friction between them.

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger's groaning, want more of this, but there's that nagging in his head. Spot ain't right yet, he's still healing. He grabs his hands, stopping them from going too far. He swallows. "But we can't. You ain't healed yet, can't be putting too much strain on you."

Fuck, it hurt to say it, feeling him on top like that, but one of them had to show restraint. Spot would be pissed if he missed another day of work just 'cause of a shag.

[brooklynishere]

Spot's kissing his way back down Dodger's neck when his hands are grabbed, and his head shoots up to look at the other in disbelief.

"We can't?" he asked, tilting his head a little and raising his eyebrow "Don't forget who's in charge here, Jack," it's not often Spot uses his real name, but he's making a point right now - a point that's helped by the slight intimate use of a name nobody else ever uses "What I says goes, and I says..." he leans in again to breathe his words into Dodger's ear "I want you..."

He punctuates the statement with another press of his hips.

[artfuldawkins]

It's hard to think straight. The warmth of the gin mixing pleasantly with that buzz of heavy kisses and pressing so close to another person. Especially when Spot is pressing so hard and he's already half hard with sheer want. He's struggling.

"But..." it's not as strong as it should be, a want to just give in. "You're gonna need another day off if we do." Maybe that would work? Focus on the coin, that need. Not how tempting it is to say fuck it and drive his hands down the front of Spot's trousers.

[brooklynishere]

Spot just rolls his eyes. He doesn't think it's going to do any damage, and he's definitely far too drunk to think about this logically. All he's thinking about right now is how much he wants Dodger, and there's almost nothing that could get in the way of that thought. Spot can be single-minded at the best of times, but while drunk? It was even worse.

"Let me worry about that," he murmurs, close enough to Dodger's ear that his lips brush against it when he speaks. He tugs his hands out of Dodger's grip so they can slide beneath his shirt "right now I jus' wanna make you feel good, Jack..."

[artfuldawkins]

Fuck, he knows he needs to stop this but, fuck, he's wanting too badly and who knows when they'd get a chance of quiet like this? Too many kids around with big noses wantin' to know everything that was happening.

"...Fuck, yes."

[brooklynishere]

Spot grins, rewarding Dodger for making the right decision (as he saw it) by crushing their lips together again. He trails one hand down Dodger's chest and slips it beneath the waistband of his trousers, his fingers just curling round Dodger's length with a satisfied sigh against his lips when he hears the first clatter of noise from the bunkroom downstairs and he freezes.

...Fuck. The kids have started to arrive back.

The rooftop may have been Spot's personal domain in many ways, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be a kid up here looking for them in, oh, about thirty seconds probably.

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger's groan at the feel of Spot's hand around himself gets cut short by the clatter of noise. It turns into a groan of frustration because of bloody course that would happen. Of course the kids would start to show up now.

He carefully - reluctantly - takes Spot's hand away. He kisses it.

"Guess we got to hold off anyway." He tries for a smirk, but it might look a bit too frustrated. "We got some nosy arse kids."

[brooklynishere]

Spot sighs deeply, dropping his head forward on to Dodger's shoulder for a second.

"I'm going to kill all of them." he growls, frustration colouring ever word.

But he drags himself off of Dodger because, kids or not, it's really hard (ha) to focus when he's right there, moving back to sitting next to him and smoothing out his own rumpled clothing. He grabs the bottle of gin and takes another swig, because what else can you do, and sighs again.

"We need an apartment or somethin'."

[artfuldawkins]

There's a brief moment, where Dodger just lets himsef quickly run his hands through Spot's hair. Just as a small thing, some little consolation from what they couldn't grab right now. He pulls at his shirt and trousers, trying to look in more decent shape so that when the kids inevitably stormed up, it just looked like they'd been sitting drinking for long enough.

He hmed in thought. "Wouldn't be a bad idea, that," he said. "Get our own bloody bathroom."

[brooklynishere]

Spot's drunk enough that his usual barriers are a little lower, or maybe it's just because it's Dodger, but either way he leans into the touch, half closing his eyes as Dodger's hand runs through his hair. It feels nice, he wants it to keep happening, but that's just going to get them back right where they were.

"Imagine that..." Spot agrees. And then he is, imagining it. Waking up beside Dodger, maybe even getting a lie in occasionally, having their own space... it would mean he couldn't keep as close an eye on the kids but everybody knew he would be moving out of the lodging house sooner or later, at his age, and it was about time his second took on more responsibility, however much Spot didn't want to admit that soon he'd have to pass on the torch of being leader. He was getting a little too old to still be a newsie.

"...we could do it..." he says quietly, cautiously.

[artfuldawkins]

They could do it, that was the pressing thought. They were both getting to the age that it was being looked on as time to leave the lodgings, find their own hole somewhere. Spot would probably move on and get his own stand, if he wanted to stay in the pape business. Dodger could... well, he'd work out something.

"We just need the coin for it."

[brooklynishere]

Oh. The coin. The coin they'd spent, what little of it they could scrape up, on the things they needed to help him heal. It just seemed like one disaster after another and there was never anything to spare.

"We could save for it. If you wanted." he says, hesitant even though Dodger definitely seems on board with the plan. It won't be easy, and who knows how long it'll take, but they could save up enough to make a start on the rent and once they've got the apartment keeping it will be a lot easier. It's never going to be somewhere amazing, but it'll be theirs, and right now Spot wants that so much he almost can't stand it.

[artfuldawkins]

We could save for it

Dodger's mind went to work. What could he get that could be sold off for decent coin. There were a few wallets that could be passed along, he'd found a fence a while back. Some watches maybe... But that was getting ahead of himself. Even if he did scrape up enough for rent on a place, that money would only go to rent if none of the kids took ill.

"...Be worth trying," he looked at Spot. He liked the idea. A place that was theirs.

[brooklynishere]

Spot nods, it would be worth trying, and he can't think of anybody else he wants to try it with. He looks over at Dodger with a little half smile.

"Let's do it," he says, spitting into his palm and holding it out to Dodger. The offer of a deal, a mark that he's serious about the conversation - and his intentions.

[artfuldawkins]

There's the slightest of eyes rolls.

"You know, we're goin' to need to get used to not doin' that soon," he says. But then he grins, and spits in his own palm, taking Spot's and shaking it.

Soon wasn't right now.