- Chapter 148 - What Was Supposed to be a Trip to Midtown Ends Up with a Date-
Warnings: fluff, fluff, kinda "yelling" at Jack and hitting Jack, but mostly fluff lol
Canon Era
Third Person POV

Requested by: Ebony_Rose_Lewis . Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy! (Btw, I don't think my second title makes much sense, but I can't think of words rn, so... yep. Enjoy that jumble of randomness.)

Race whistled to himself as he headed out the door of Jacobi's, heading to Midtown.

I am sneaky.

I am not seen.

I am subtle-

"Racetrack Higgins."

"Oh, hi, Jack. Look, it's a bird! Gotta go!"

But before Race could take off, he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and yanked back, causing him to yelp. "Hey! Watch it! I'm fragile, you know!"

"Don't you continuously tell us that you're not fragile?" Finch muttered as he walked by.

Race scowled. "Mind your own business, bird boy."

Finch rolled his eyes, putting his hands up as if he was surrendering. "Enjoy the walk to Brooklyn."

Race raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could comment about how at least he wasn't scared of Brooklyn like Finch was, Finch spoke.

"I got Midtown for ya, Jack."

Jack nodded.

Finch tipped his hat to Les and left.

"Wha-" Race stared at Jack. "Come on! Why can he get Midtown and I can't?!" he complained. "Why do I have to go to Brooklyn with you?"

"What's the big deal?" Jack questioned as he grabbed Race's wrist and started dragging him along. He gestured for Davey and Les to follow them. "You literally sell in Brooklyn. Why are you so against it?"

"Because I don't want to spend any more time in Brooklyn than I have to," Race lied through his teeth.

"Then, don't sell there."

"Family memory; Sheepshead Races means a lot to me. I can't just stop selling there," Race rambled, making up complete lies to get Jack off of his back.

Jack looked at Race. "You're coming to Brooklyn, whether you like it or not," he told him. "You're not called a "half-Brooklyn Newsie" for no reason."

Race pouted, crossing his arms. "This is not going to accomplish what you want it to," he informed him.

"Oh well." Jack rolled his eyes fondly. "Maybe, it'll at least get you two oblivious idiots together."

Race's cheeks burned. "Jack!"

"Hurry up." Jack continued pulling the blond-haired boy along. "You're slowing us down. We don't want to be walking when Snyder is out on patrol," he reminded him.

"I don't want to be walking at all," Race grumbled to himself.

Jack ignored his comment.

Davey and Les exchanged a look.

Davey sighed to himself. "What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered, looking at the sky.

About two and a half hours later

"Jack, can't you let me go?" Race asked, almost whining.

"Not if you're going to run away again," Jack answered, "like you did fifteen minutes ago."

"I won't, I promise," Race told him, rushed because of the fact that they were quickly coming up on the Brooklyn dock.

Jack looked back at him. "Race, you only say "I promise" in English if you're lying," he pointed out.

Race internally cursed himself and his predicable habits. He hated how well Jack knew him. "Come onnn, it's so embarrassing to have you literally holding on to me," he told him.

"Then, maybe you should've thought about that before running." Jack shrugged and walked up to the Brooklyn guards.

Rock and Catch, the two Brooklyn guards who were on duty at the moment, were snickering at Race.

"What do ya need, Kelly?" Catch asked, still looking at Race.

Race rolled his eyes at them.

"Gotta see Spot," Jack answered, letting go of Race for a moment.

"Everyone's gotta see Spot, Jack." Rock rolled his eyes at his lame excuse. "Come back when you have a real reason or when you two have a meeting."

While Davey looked like he was ready to say "oh well, we tried" and leave, Race sighed in frustration. "Just let us through, guys," he told the guards.

The two boys exchanged a look. Then, they both shrugged. "Fine."

Jack smirked at Race as the two guards stepped out of their way.

Race glared back at him and smacked his arm. "Don't look at me like that," he hissed to him.

Jack chuckled. "Come on." He nodded his head towards the throne at the end of the dock.

"Nope." Race put his hands up. "I did my job. See ya never." He saluted and turned to run off.

"Oh, just come on." Jack grabbed his arm and started pulling him down the dock.

Race glared at him. "I hate you." He heard Catch and Rock laughing.

"Well, you'll love me after you and Spot get together," Jack responded nonchalantly.

Race rolled his eyes.

"Woah," Les whispered, walking next to Jack and Race, "them Brooklyn boys is big!"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, most of 'em."

Race snickered a bit.

Jack let go of Race when they were at the end of the dock, making sure Race stood next to him.

Race glared at him, then took his cigar out and stuck it in his mouth. He pulled his hat down over his eyes.

Jack rolled his eyes at him. "You're such a child." He flicked his hat off of his head.

Race glared at him as he picked it up.

Spot was stood on top of his perch, the same smirk Race saw every day plastered on his face. "Well, if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick."

Race rolled his eyes. "He ain't all that quick," he muttered.

Jack shot him a look. "I was quick enough to catch you twice today," he commented.

Race glared at him. "You had an advantage."

Jack rolled his eyes.

Spot jumped down from his perch.

Davey jumped back.

Race sighed, rolling his eyes at the tall boy. He'll never survive here if he's that jumpy, he thought to himself. We gotta teach him some stuff.

"I see you moved up in the world, Spot," Jack said, going over to him. "Got a river view and everything." He spit in his hand and held it out.

Spot spit-shook with him. Then, he turned to face Race. "Back so soon, Racer?" he questioned, smirking. "It feels like I just saw you yesterday."

Some of the Brooklyn boys around them laugh.

Race rolled his eyes. "Good to see you too, Spot," he muttered.

Spot smiled. He was quickly reminded that there were people around him, so he took a marble out of his pocket and grabbed his slingshot, trying to play it off as if he hadn't been staring at Race. He cleared his throat and pretended to be aiming for something. "So, uh, Jacky-boy," he started, "I've been hearing things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin' in my ear."

Jack nodded. He should've known some of the boroughs had already asked Spot about what to do.

"Jacky-boy's newsies is playing like they're going on strike." Spot loaded his slingshot, before firing it.

The pebble hit a random beer bottle, smashing it to pieces.

Davey flinched. He looked at Jack, clearly nervous to have his brother here.

Jack gestured for Davey to take a breath. "Yeah, well we are," he told Spot slowly, gesturing for Davey to take over.

Davey understood his gestures. "We're not playing," he stepped in, trying to sound put together and confident. "We are going on strike." He nodded as if to further prove his point.

"Oh yeah? Yeah?" Spot rolled his eyes, looking over at Jack. "What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?"

Race smirked a bit, covering his mouth to hide his snickers. That's actually such a good Newsie name for Davey.

Spot looked over at Race. A soft smile tugged on his lips when he saw that he made him laugh, but he quickly looked away again.

Davey looked back at Jack, instantly losing any trace of confidence he had.

Race noticed Davey's anxiety creep back up and sighed. He stepped forward. "Yeah, it's a mouth. A mouth with a brain," he informed Spot, "and if you got half a one, you'll listen to what he's got to say," he challenged him.

Spot stepped towards Race and looked him up and down. "Are you challenging me, Racer?"

Race shrunk back a little bit. His cheeks reddened and he swallowed. "What if I am?" he questioned. "Do you have a brain, Spot?"

Spot smirked. He winked at Race and stepped back, going over to his throne and sitting down. "Go on."

Race stayed where he was, barely able to breath. His eyes were wide and he could feel his cheeks burning. Did that really just happen?

Jack shot him a smirk.

Race glared at him.

"Well," Davey started again, talking slowly as he gathered his thoughts, "we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So, we're talking to newsies all around the city," he explained.

Meanwhile, Spot was telling himself over and over that he had to listen to Davey and stop staring at Race. While doing that, he realized that Davey was quiet and looking at him. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, yeah, so they told me. But, uh, what'd they tell you?" he questioned, playing it off.

Davey hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what to say next. "They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, you're the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else," he told him, "and if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they join and we'll be unstoppable. So you gotta join, I mean... well, you gotta!"

Spot looked over at Race for a moment, before looking back at Davey. "You're right, Racer; brains. But I got brains too, and more than just half a one." He smirked at Race as if he knew what Race had been talking about just that morning. "How do I know you punks won't run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club?" He pointed his pimp-cane at Jack and Davey. "How do I know you got what it takes to win?"

Jack frowned. "Because I'm telling you, Spot."

Spot clicked his tongue and shook his head. "That ain't good enough Jacky-boy," he told him. "You gotta show me."

Jack nodded, a bit defeated. He gestured for Davey and Les to follow him.

Les quickly ran over to Davey and took his hand. "That Brooklyn boy is not big," he mumbled to him.

Davey's eyes widened and he instantly covered Les' mouth. "Please be quiet," he muttered to him. "You can't say that here."

Les stared at him, blinking.

Davey sighed in relief when he realized no one had heard him.

Jack stopped walking for a moment and stared at something. "Wait here," he told Davey and Les, walking back over to Spot's throne.

"Wha-" before Davey could say anything, Jack was already gone. He sighed. "Just great. A leader who abandoned me and a brother who's insulting the leader of the borough we're in." He shook his head. "I need a nap."

Spot looked over at Race. "Race-"

Race put his hand up. "I understand." He swallowed. "We'll just have to show you that we are serious."

Spot nodded, falling silent.

The two boys just stood there for a moment, an awkward silence filling the air around them.

Then, out of nowhere, Race heard an "oops" and felt himself get pushed into Spot.

Spot quickly stumbled to catch him, pulling the boy close to him.

Race's cheeks turned bright red. "Jackson Kelly! Are you kidding me?!" He covered his face with his hands. "Spot, I'm so sor-"

"Racer."

Race shut his mouth and looked at Spot.

Spot stared down at the boy he was holding up. "Do you want to go out sometime after the strike?" he asked out of nowhere.

Race stopped in his tracks. It was like his brain stopped working. "W-what?" he stammered.

"The correct answer is "yes"," Jack commented from behind him, his arms crossed.

"Jack!" Race yelped, turning around to smack him.

Spot chuckled. "Is that a "no"?" he questioned.

"What?" Race turned back around to face him. "No- I- uh- no, I didn't say no!"

Spot chuckled.

Race felt like he wanted to die. "Yes. The answer is "yes". We'll talk about details later. We have to go strike. Goodbye." He grabbed Jack's arm and scurried off.

Spot chuckled as he watched him go. He smiled. "I've got a date," he said quietly to himself.

And he couldn't wait.

Jack chuckled as Race pulled him along. "Oh how the tides have turned," he commented.

Race let go of his arm and shoved him. "You suck!" he yelled, his cheeks bright red still.

"I did say you would come out of that with a boyfriend, didn't I?" Jack smirked.

Race crossed his arms. "He's not my boyfriend..." he mumbled defensively, not wanting Jack to be right. "We just have a date."

"First, there's a date, then boyfriends." Jack did jazz hands.

Race rolled his eyes and shoved him again. "I'm going back to 'Hatten." He put his hat on so they couldn't see his red cheeks and kept going.

Jack chuckles.

Davey stared at them. "I- I have no idea what's going on or what I've gotten myself into," he mumbled, confused.

Les looked up at him. "Who knows, maybe you'll have a boyfriend by the end of this too," he said happily.

Davey's cheeks turned bright red. "Les!"

2316 Words
I really enjoyed writing this. It was a ton of fun. I hope you all enjoyed reading it!!