i-politely-disagree

[i-politely-disagree]

I really wanna write a fic where Jack and Spot are equally overprotective of Race, so when Race and Spot start dating, Jack becomes a weird sort of helicopter sibling and Spot is just over it.

(half the story would honestly end up being weird filler but I felt the need to share the hc)

#newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #spot x race #sprace #not a fic #jack kelly #what am i doing here #they'd be weird frenemies #race and jack are brothers

[i-politely-disagree]

Sprace- Don't forget it

Canon era

(I dont like this one too much)

Race didn’t know where he stood with Spot. If being everything to someone only when their door locked was a recognised relationship status then he would be slightly more fine, almost passing as stable. Spot barely ever raised an eyebrow or even looked at him in public. He would never do anything more than vague eye contact inside the Brooklyn lodging house on the rare occasion Race had an excuse to stay. But as soon his bedroom door clicked shut and his not-quite-lover climbed through his window from the fire escape, Spot became the man Race had fallen into… something with.

Maybe love, maybe disaster, maybe both.

Race couldn't exactly tell. All he could tell was that he was going to have to get his papers in Brooklyn tomorrow because it was way too late to walk three or so hours just to come back again. Plus, Manhattan meant organizing a bunch of small kids who shouldn’t be on the streets and Race would’ve far preferred tired kisses and warm embraces, even if he had to forget about them the minute he walked out of Spot's room. 

Everything was going to plan. That is until Race tried to get sleep. The room was painfully still but his mind became a tempest of whirling thoughts, images and words he didn’t even know he knew and he couldn't take lying around in silence any longer.

“What is it?” Spot groaned, half opening his eyes as he felt the boy next to him sit up 

“Go back to sleep… Spot.” Race’s fingers carded through Spot's hair as he whispered, “I can’t imagine calling you one of those sappy pet names. Sorry.” 

He laughed softly because it was true. He didn’t see Spot in any other name but his own. It was weird to be ignored by someone and then call them ‘Honey’ almost every other night. Maybe one day when they were comfortable and legal in whatever they had. Race thought about it a lot; being able to hold hands in public, go on proper dates, talk about each other openly or have even the possibility of a future. But for now, it was a waiting game.

They stayed in silence for a bit until Spot spoke

“You can call me anything. As soon as I walk out that door, neither of us is allowed to remember.”

He wanted to remember but he also knew he couldn’t. He was so full of emotions surrounding Race that he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he only faced them part-time. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but any commitment felt like an enticing trap. 

“Nicknames are kind of weird though,” Race began. Spot sighed, watching him speak, too tired to be annoyed.

 “Think about it. The term ‘baby’? Isn't it weird to just call your lover a child?”

“Race go t-” 

“And sweetheart? Low-key cannibal-like.”

They sat with a slightly disturbed air between them. Spot showing a rare, exasperated smile in the dark

“Sweetheart, It’s gonna get cannibal-like if you don't go the fuck to sleep.”

It was gonna take a drug far more sedating than slight affection to get Race to rest but, he lay down. Spot’s eyes were a deep, stark contrast to the rest of his face at this time of night, Race noticed. His gaze lingered longer than he intended, just now processing what people meant when they said ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’, even in the dark, lost in the strangely intimate act of staring.

“You called me sweetheart.” Race said it as almost an accusation, more accusing himself for not picking that up sooner 

“That I did,” Spot laughed  “And that’s yours to forget.” 

Race scoffed, “Yeah, don't remember I love you.”

They'd never said it before. The words were too heavy for people who couldn’t even touch when a door was open.

“Racer-” 

“Don't. We both know we can't keep this up.”

He's reached for Spot's hand under the thin blanket

“Can this please just be something real? I don’t mean acting like it’s legal, cause, yeah, it’s not. But no one’s gonna lock you up for admitting maybe you can stand me.”

“It’s just- It’s risky” Spot softly rubbed Race’s hand with his thumb. He laughed dryly in return, snatching his hand away,

“I pickpocket and cheat rich guys out of money on the regular. I’ve seen you steal, soak plenty of people and may I remind you we went on strike to take one of the biggest steps in ending child labor this city has seen in a while. Is that not risky?”

Watching Race turn to face away, Spot let his words sink in. He knew it was kind of ridiculous to act like he barely knew one of the most important people in his life. He knew he could easily fake a friendship, like Jack Kelly and New Kid, but being around Race meant drowning in things he wasn’t comfortable feeling 24/7.

‘Don't remember I love you.” 

That was really how he faced it. A whole relationship built on what felt like no-strings-attached hookups minus the sex. Something had to change. And Spot knew that change had to come from him.

 He Breathed in. 

Out.

“I’ll take that risk.”

Race almost turned as Spot’s fingers brushed over his shoulder, but stopped himself.

“You won’t forget it?”

Spot had to disregard all the ‘sense’ his mind tried to talk into him, but letting go of fear disguised as reason was the only way any of this could continue.

“Don’t forget I love you.” 

#sprace #newsies #spot x race #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #newsies fanfiction #newsies broadway #my fic #cringe

[i-politely-disagree]

Sprace-Haunted

Could be canon era or modern

lil short fic

(Inspired by Haunted by Laufey )

Spot always told himself it wouldn't happen again. It was always ‘the last time’ he went home to Race's. It was always ' the last kiss ' when he woke Race up in the haze of the early morning as he left.

Spot flicked the lamp off, looking fondly at Race who lay beside him.

As his eyes adjusted to the moonlight lacing the room, Spot watched as Race brought a hand to his cheek and smiled as he leaned into his touch.  

Eyebrows raised in question.

A nod in return. 

And a brush of soft lips against his own. 

Spot pulled Race back in, wanting moments like these to stretch out forever, savoring every mistake he was probably making. He loved the thrill he felt from a mix of Race and strange vulnerability, but something about the familiar smell of Race's room, the familiar feeling of his sheets and the relief of letting his walls down surrounded him with a feeling of comfort. Spot didn't want to sleep. He'd have to leave everything he wanted alone in a room as he went back to his life in the morning. He wanted the odd domestic feeling of whatever this was. Race's blue eyes seemed misty in the low light, clouded with some emotion Spot didn’t want to dwell on too long because he knew the impermanence of the situation they were in and, so it didn't hurt too much when that impermanence hit, he had to force ideas of Race wanting something serious out of his mind. 

Might as well make the best of the moment.

Winding his fingers through Race’s hair, Spot let his mind go quiet, taking in the sounds of New York traffic, the faint hum of a fridge from the other room, his lips as they separated from Race’s and small sighs while a blush made its way up Race’s cheeks. A heavy feeling of longing wrapped its way around Spot, but he wouldn’t give in. After all, this was the last time.

#sprace #newsies #racetrack higgins #spot x race #spot conlon #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #my fic #not quite a songfic

[i-politely-disagree]

Sprace- Call

MODERN AU TW: Swearing??

(I've never posted on here lol)

Spot cringed as his phone call was answered. Usually, it just went straight to the far too familiar  “Hi it’s Racetrack! Don’t leave a message!” voicemail to hurt him even more with the fact that he was either blocked, or Race was declining all his calls. A harsh ‘What do you want?’ may not have been ideal, but Spot still smiled softly at the sound of his ex’s voice.

"Hey…Race," He started. The same words he had said almost every day a month ago. Throwing his bag down as he got back from work, striking up conversations at 2 a.m even though they both needed to be up early, Starting a call much like this one if anything happened. "Do you still have my white shirt with the sleeves?" 

When Race’s phone displayed Spot’s caller ID, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe yelling, maybe an explanation that it was a dare, or maybe some tearful confession about how his love never died. Anything with more emotion than requesting an old shirt.

“Um… I’ll look around.” The conversation was too stiff, too formal. Race fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt that definitely wasn’t Spot’s (it was) that he was wearing and paced around the couch he slept on. 

“What do you need it for?”

He’d never admit it, but Race missed Spot more than he could tell. Hearing his voice again was painful, but something to feel. He had been a mess the last month, living with his best friend, missing sleep and working his ass off to help pay the rent when it was paying the rent that got him into this mess. Spot had walked out after the topic of money had come up, only after many anger-clouded words had been thrown between him and Race. Just thinking about it, Race could taste the regret and adrenaline and feel the knot of codependency tighten as it had done that night when he realized how alone and helpless he was. Even though he hadn’t anticipated a break-up, it wasn’t like Race was expecting-

“A wedding,” Spot answered coldly and quickly. Dwelling on love around him wasn’t going to help him swallow the lump in his throat.

He regretted walking out every day. He knew deep down, that he could’ve walked back in at any moment with nothing fixed, another argument ignored, but weeks passed and Race lost the apartment he could only afford with Spot’s help. Spot lost the one stable thing in his life, the one person he felt like he could talk to, the stupidity, wittiness, energy and affection that came with Race and he missed it more than he was willing to admit. He knew it was his chance to salvage any scraps of a relationship but didn’t know how to begin. 

“I’m sorry.” It was a struggle to force the words out of his mouth, but Spot managed to sound a lot more stable than he felt. 

Race’s reply was so emotionless it hurt. No sadness, not even a quiver in his voice, no hope. Just a bland question reminding Spot he’d made more than enough mistakes;

“About what?” 

“Um, This. Calling you, acting like nothing’s happened, acting like I don’t care.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Spot knew he would have to address the elephant in the room.

“...And leaving. I was- I am so stupid for walking out. It sounds pathetic but I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I really lo- I really loved you.” 

Race’s soft smile threatened to fall at the use of past tense.  His mind tried to object, but a smirk tugged at his lips and words crawled out.

“You miss me.”  He observed, a mix of teasing and astonishment now unmistakable in his voice

“No, I just really want my shirt,” Spot said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as if Race could see him over the phone.  “Yes, I fucking miss you.”

Spot hated himself for giving in that easily. But at the same time, he knew lying wasn’t going to get him anywhere or anyone for that matter.

Warm hope bloomed through Race at the less-than-heartfelt confession, sudden longing for the one person he thought he’d never be allowed to long for again. A million hazy emotions flew through his mind but he couldn’t articulate everything he was feeling and couldn’t force every heavy sentiment through the phone. He needed to know this was genuine before pouring his heart out. 

Spot’s finger was over the ‘End Call’ button when Race interrupted their silence, “But you said-”

“I said a lot of things,” Spot cut him off, “We both did. But I’d bet this month's rent you didn’t mean half of it.” 

Race wanted to object, but it was true. He hadn’t meant anything close. And while he prayed to every god that he wouldn’t regret it again, heavy words slid off his tongue;

“I miss you too. But look, we can’t just…go back to whatever we had a month ago.”

“Bad communication and not-yet-healed commitment issues?”

Race exhaled deeply, “Yeah, that. But I can’t- I mean- I’ve got your shirt. Please just come and get it so we can at least talk in person.” 

Spot running down apartment stairs full speed to reunite with his ex-boyfriend was probably something countless medical professionals would advise against but, quite frankly, he was more than willing to break a wrist or two for another shot. He managed a couple of breathless words that were essentially just ‘See you soon’ before falling into his car in a haze of nerves and emotions pretty damn close to excitement. Serious conversations weren’t his forté but were better than a familiar voicemail.

#sprace #newsies #newsies fanfiction #spot x race #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #fanfiction #my fic