The Bridge to Brooklyn (Sprace fanfic)

The morning after

Tw: Getting mugged

——

The morning came around and Race woke up. He was expecting to see the Manhattan bunk room but instead he was in a room that was unfamiliar. He felt a tight arm wrap around his waist and someone snuggle gently into his back. Spot. Race recalled all that happened last night, the confession and the kissing. His heart skipped a beat, if this was a dream he never wanted to wake up.

Then he remembered Manhattan and Jack. Shit...

Race tried to gently pry himself away from Spot's warm body.

"Where do you think you's going Racer", Spot tighten his arm around him.

"Jack is gonna give my bunk away if I'm not back before the bell", Race smirked.

"You's got a bed right here."

Race flushed red. Race chuckled and planted a kiss on Spot's temple.

"I'll be back I promise", he whispered in Spot's ear, "Jack can't keep me in 'Hattan forever."

Spot grumbled letting Race go. Race picked up his things. Pulling his suspenders up and buttoning up his shirt. Race looked at the bed where Spot still laid as he pulled on his boots.

"You's promise me you'll be back.", Spot mumbled.

Race snickered, "Yes I promise softie. Now will you help me sneak out of your lodging house Mr Leader"

"Don't know how. Guess you'll have to stay here with me in bed", Spot held up the blanket welcoming Race back to his warm body.

"As much as I'd love to stay you know I can't"

Spot groaned, "fine."

He got up and the blanket fell for his body. Spot wasn't wearing his tank top and his key hung on his chest. Race looked as respectfully as possible. Spot walked up to the room's only window opening it up to a fire escape and Race climbed out the window. He turned back to Spot and smirked.

"I guess I'm the secret prince sneaking out of his princess room~ almost like a fairytale.", Race grinned.

"I'm the prince, you're the princess", Spot corrected.

"But who's the one sneaking out?"

Spot blushed, "Go."

Race leaned in close, "as you wish", he pecked Spot on the lips.

Down the escape and the run back to Manhattan with his heart fluttered the whole time.

——

Race opened the window into the bunk room, climbing in as quietly as possible. Don't wake up... Race stopped went he saw Jack standing in a doorway. He gestured up. Race understood and climbed back outside to the the roof.

When he met Jack up there he was bombarded with questions.

"Where were you all night?! Why the hell didn't you come back!! Why didn't you wait till morning to go to Brooklyn!", Jack sounded worried, "what...something happened between you and Spot."

Race's cheeks turned pink and he grinned. The butterflies were back.

"We's...we kissed", Race replayed the memories of last night in his head over and over.

He remembered Spot's strong body and gentle lips. How Spot held him so gently yet securely. Race had felt so safe even though he was doing something so illegal. Race could melt like a candle in the summer right then and there.

Jack sighed, "based off on how you are behaving right now..it went okay?"

"It was better than okay~"

Jack gave him a side smile, all his worries seemed to dissolve. He patted Race on the back.

"I bet it was, Racetrack"

——

No matter what happened the night before the newsies of New York still had a job to do. Race was still out of it so he only bought 20 papers. He wanted to sell quickly and get back to Spot- I mean Brooklyn.

He yelled and smiled. Headline after headline. Person after person. Paper after paper. Until he was done. Finally!!

Race pocketed his money and headed towards the bridge. But as Race walked he couldn't help but feel like someone was following him.

He was right. One moment Race was walking and the next he was being pulled into an alley and was getting the shit kicked out of him. Two men had dragged him into the allyway and were asking him to give them his money.

"EMPTY YOUR POCKETS!!", one man shouted.

Race kicked and struggled, "go to hell."

The man punched him across the face and kicked him into the stomach til he coughed. The other held Race down. Kick. Question. Punch. Kick. Repeat.

Race could feel himself slip out of consciousness. His body hurt and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He want to be with Spot. Race feared that they'd beat him to death.

I promised Spot...

——

Spot waited at the Bridge. He finished selling early. He couldn't wait to see Race again even it had been only a couple hours since he left the lodging house. Spot's newsies didn't question Race coming to Brooklyn at that time.

Where is he? He's probably still sellin.

Spot continued to ask himself questions and answered them soon after. He picked at a rock on the bridge. His patience ran thin and anxiety was settling in.

I need to find him. No he can take care of himself. I need to know he's okay. He's probably fine. Probably...

That probably didn't sit right with Spot. He made up his mind, he was going to Manhattan to find Race.

——

Spot knocked on the lodging house door. It was later now most newsies we're done selling. Come on open up... The door opened and there stood Mr. Kloppmen.

Spot pulled his hat off, "excuse me sir is Racetrack Higgins here?"

The man's face went worried. Spot didn't like that.

"Upstairs..", he said.

Spot didn't skip a second and ran up the stairs up to the bunk room. The newsies surrounded one bunk and bloody cloth sat on the bedside table. Oh no...please don't let it be what I think...

Spot moved closer to the crowd of people, until he saw...

"Race..."

——

Done! Don't worry Race isn't dead just a little bruised. :)