newsies one-shots

spot x davey

LOOK i know it's not a popular ship or whatever but i love their dynamic
this is meant to be 92sies but honestly imagine it however u would like to!! i can't stop you tbh

prompt: person a having to help person b undress bc of an injury

idk if i like this or not. is it romantic? you decide tbh

-

It had started off as a usual Tuesday afternoon. Spot was walking down the Brooklyn Bridge with Hotshot, on their way to Manhattan simply to get out of the Brooklyn Lodging House for a bit. Usually, Spot was able to handle the pressure of being a leader and all, but sometimes it was just too much. The crying, the yelling, the duties, you name it. He usually took these strolls alone, but Hotshot insisted on going with him. Spot planned to walk around, maybe see some of the Manhattan newsies, and head back before the sunset. What Spot hadn't planned was playing nurse.

They were barely a quarter of his way across the bridge, when Spot saw some kid out of the corner of his eye getting beat. At first, Spot didn't recognize the person, but as he turned his head towards the fight, he could recognize those curls from a mile away.

There was Davey Jacobs, getting beat by the Delanceys. He wasn't the best at fighting back, so he kind of just left fate to decide what happened to him. He could feel the blood oozing from his lip, the bruises being formed everywhere, the feeling of Oscar's brass knuckles scraping against his pale skin, it hurt. Davey knew for sure that he would be sporting a black eye and some scars for at least the next week after this. He was delirious, his poor head felt like it was spinning, he couldn't think straight, and he could feel his consciousness slightly fading. He knew Jack would be worried sick, and this would all end in the Delanceys getting attacked by him and a few others.

Once Spot noticed who it was, he nudged Hotshot to get his attention. "Hey, look over there."

"What?" Hotshot looked towards where Spot pointed, "Ain't that the Manhattan newsie, David?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I can spot that kid anywhere, an' I sure won't let him get soaked like that." Spot started running towards the scene, Hotshot close behind him. "Hey!" Spot shouted, pulling Oscar back. Spot punched Oscar right in the nose.

"The hell are you doing here, Conlon?" Oscar sneered, "Shouldn't you be sitting pretty on your throne?" He shoved Spot backwards.

"I can't sit pretty if you'se soakin' kids on my turf," Spot gruffed. It was at this moment he got a good look at Davey.

He was sporting a black eye, a busted lip, and a bloody nose all at the same time. His shirt had blood seeping through, slightly ripped from Oscar's brass knuckles, and his arms were almost covered in bruises and cuts. Didn't Kelly teach him at least some self defense?

Spot stood there for a moment, taking in everything he saw. This gave Oscar the time to punch him right in the gut. The force of Oscar's fist made Spot stumble backwards. Spot replied with kicking Oscar hard in the groin, causing the younger Delancey to double over in pain. He pinned Oscar on the ground, giving him a few good punches in the stomach and another good punch in the face. Spot stood up, using his cane to keep Oscar down. He looked over at Hotshot, who was standing over a defeated Morris. Both Delanceys had matching bloody noses. Spot smirked in victory before placing his attention towards Davey. He rushed over, placing his cane back in its holder and examining Davey's injuries.

"They fucked him up badly, Hotshot," Spot muttered,

"Ya think?" Hotshot snorted, but was met with a cold glare from Spot. Hotshot put his hands up in defense

Davey could barely lift his head up to look Spot in the eyes. "W- Spot?" He managed to let out.

Spot put his hand under Davey's chin, supporting it. "Heya Mouth, you'se gonna be okay," He whispered, looking at the taller boy, "the Delanceys got you good, but it's nothin' a few bandages can't fix."

Davey nodded as Spot picked him up, groaning in pain, putting his arms around Spot's neck to keep himself from falling. He felt his cheeks flush red from embarrassment as they started speed-walking towards the Lodging House.

"Do ya' want me to send somebody to tell Jack that we have a newsie of his?" Hotshot opened the doors of the Lodging House.

"Yeah, I can't have him worrying that Dave died or somethin'," Spot said. Hotshot held open the door to the Lodging House for Spot. "Comin' through!" Spot yelled. A few newsies moved out of the way, some turning heads and asking who Spot was carrying.

Spot made his way towards his room, setting Davey down on his bed. "You'se okay, Dave?" Spot asked, kneeling down beside him.

"I wouldn't sat I'm okay physically, but-" Davey started. He tried to sit up, but winced in pain. Spot put his hand on Davey's abdomen.

"Woah, calm down there. You'll be fine." Spot reassured. He took a closer look at Davey's injuries. "You'se gonna have to undress so's I can do my job."

Davey's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a light pink. Undress? In front of him? He tried to sit up again, but failed.

"Here, let me help you'se at least," Spot murmured, putting his hand on Davey's back and helping him sit up slowly. "Do you need help taking your shirt off?"

"Uh, kind of-" Davey started to try and take off his shirt, but was met with pain rushing through his entire body, making him wince again.

Spot leaned in, placing his hands on the hem of Davey's shirt and carefully pulling it upwards. He tried his best to not hurt the boy when it came to the sleeves. "Am I hurting you at all?" Spot spoke in a softer tone.

"No," Davey whispered back, slowly pulling his arm away from his shirt sleeves to take them off. Spot threw his shirt to the side, and Davey could feel Spot checking him out. He felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. "I'm really sorry about all of this, Spot, you probably weren't expecting this an-"

"Don't worry about it, Dave. You'se fine," Spot gave a slight chuckle, "you worry too much about what others think about you." The two stared at each other, Spot's eyes traveling down Davey's stomach. "Did they's hurt your legs at all?"

"Y-Yeah, I think Oscar stomped on my ankle at some point, I don't remember," Davey shrugged, pain rushing through his muscles once again.

"Fuckin' Delanceys," Spot said under his breath. "This is going to be the worst part of it all, but you''se gotta take your pants off."

Davey stiffened. This is surely awkward, he thought. Nothing would happen, though. He was sure that Spot Conlon wasn't a queer anyways, unlike Davey.

"Relax, Mouth, it won't be that bad. I'se seen enough basically-naked people in my days." Spot winked, standing up. Woah. Maybe Davey was wrong.

"I- yeah.." Davey trailed off. He shifted himself so his legs were hanging off the edge of the bed, putting his hands around the hem of his blood-stained pants. He tried his best to pull them down himself, but Spot eventually stepped in and started helping him. He pulled down from just below Davey's knee, throwing the pants across the floor once they were totally off.

"Holy crap, Mouth." Spot examined Davey's legs and stomach. They were all bruised up, covered in bloody scars and bruises of all sizes and colors. "Wait here," Spot demanded. He opened the door to his room and yelled for Hotshot.

"Yeah?" Hotshot yelled back.

"Can you'se bring me some bandages and a wet cloth? Them Delanceys got him pretty good," Spot shouted back.

-

it's like 'unfinished' because idk if i want to add onto it or not shrug emoji but YEAH WOO SPOT AND DAVEY