Newsies Imagines

Sprace oneshot

•Requested by broadway_crackers
       •hope this meets your expectation
•A little Sprace (feat. Albert)
•Broadway
•1899
Summary
"Race gets soaked and Spot admits to Albert that he's stressed about losing Race"
Warning:
There is a fight scene, mentions of blood, and maybe some language.

3rd Person P.O.V
       Race stumbled into the Brooklyn Lodging House, cut, bruised, and bleeding. "Delancys..." he weakly said, before succumbing to the pain. Before his unconscious body could hit the floor, Spot caught him and laid him down on one of the beds. He spun around.
       "Ace, you'se go get Albert. He an' Race are like bruddas. Hotshot, you'se wit' me. We'se gonna teach does Delancys a lesson," he commanded, "Everyone else, back to woik!" With that he stormed out of the building, Hotshot and Ace following. Ace hurried off towards Manhattan, and Spot and Hotshot went in the direction of the Refuge, where Oscar and Morris were most likely getting payed for beating the crap out of weaker kids. As suspected, the brothers were strolling home from Snyder's office, cash in hand. Spot and Hotshot confronted the infamous duo. "Dis'll teach ya to mess wit' Brooklyn, basta'ds" Spot threatened. He threw a punch that hit Oscar square in the face. Blood trickled out of his broken nose.
Morris took on Hotshot, until a snap was heard, and Morris clutched his limp arm. Without the help of his brother, Oscar gave up, and the wounded brothers scampered off. With that taken care of, Spot headed back to the Lodging House. When he got there, he saw Albert and Ace cleaning out Race's wounds. The boy was still unconscious. When Albert saw Spot, he  stood.
        "Hotshot, would ya help Ace? I wanna talk ta Spot," he said. Hotshot took over Albert's place, and Albert and Spot went out onto the fire escape.
       "How's Race?" Spot asked.
       "He'll live. But I'se moa' worried 'bout you. Ace told me you'se woa'n't doin' so well afta' Race got hoit," Al replied.
        "I'se sca'd, I suppose. Race gets into fights too often. Mostly, o're gamblin' oa' somethin' stupid 'e says. What if he gets in a fight one day, an'... doesn't come out. What if 'e dies because o' some stupid habit. I'se already lost everyone else who loves me, I can't let 'im get hoit. I...can't lose 'im," Spot admitted.
       "I know you'se ca' foa 'im, but 'e's gonna get hoit soona' oa lata', an' you won't be able ta help 'im every time, but 'e'll be alright. 'E's been through a lot already. 'E'll be tough enough ta fend foa hisself," Albert reasured Spot.
      "I'se suppose you'se right," Spot sighed. They heard coughing and turned around. Race was awake!
      "Eya, Race," Al walked over to his friend.
      "Ey, Al. Ey, Spot," the battered boy greeted.
      "Ey, Racer. How long has you'se been awake?" Spot asked.
      "Jus' woke up," Race answered, "an' I feel like crap." He chuckled, lightening the atmosphere of the room. Spot grinned. It was good to see Race back to normal again. The Race he knew and loved.

Sorry for any typing errors! I was writing this while on a road trip. Hope this was alright!!     ~Mystery♡