Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Fight-Ikeshot

Okay, Ikeshot argument. Yay!

Listen to the song at the top! It just puts this all together haha

Hopefully, I can refurbish my rep lol

Enjoy!

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Hotshot sighed as he looked himself in the mirror, shaking his head. He watched as droplets of water dripped from his chin, his face having just been splashed with the tap from the sink.

Last night, Ike made him sleep on the couch, which wasn't exactly comfortable. There was barely any room to move around, and the blanket he was given felt too small. And maybe it's horrible to assume this, but he could swear the pillow he was given was purposefully flat.

The worst thing was that he didn't know why.

He looked away after getting tired of seeing himself, the bags under his eyes large enough to feel. He grabbed his toothbrush and turned on the faucet, opening the toothpaste slowly.

What a morning.

——————

Ike didn't like to be angry. In fact, he hated it.

He was naturally annoyed very easily, and sarcastic as hell, but he really only used it as a joke. If he rolled his eyes, he did it with a smile or would grin immediately after. When sarcastic, he provided the correct answer or added more to the sentence to explain his feelings. However, to be completely honest, he didn't feel like talking at all.

He woke up barely rested, mostly missing the feeling of Hotshot's arms around him, his hair a mess and left over tears on his face. He groaned as he flopped back onto his pillow, his head hitting the item roughly.

What happened? He wasn't even sure if he was really angry, but he was upset. Hotshot didn't listen to him, then didn't tell him for nearly two weeks.

He didn't know whether to thank Race or punch him for telling him anything at all.

Ike sighed, staring at his blank ceiling as the fan blew in the corner, being the only noise at all.

——————

Whatever it was, Hotshot was going to make it better.

He wasn't the best cook, and it took multiple trials and errors, but he soon had a plateful of pancakes and eggs, a side of orange juice to finish it off.

Ike inherently liked breakfast, and woke up just in time for it. It was the meal that could get him out of a funk like no other, and Hotshot only hoped it worked.

He looked up as Ike walked into the kitchen, still sleepy and nothing like his normal self. He looked horribly upset.

"Uh, hey", Hotshot greeted, trying in for a smile. "I made you breakfast."

Ike stopped for a second, his socks covering his feet and his shirt—Hotshot's shirt—hanging a little loosely. Hotshot couldn't help but think he was ethereal either way; Ike in his true element.

The shorter man stared at the plate blankly, ultimately refusing it as he walked away and back to their room.

Hotshot sighed, knowing he must've did something really bad. "Ike."

Said man ignored him, prompting Hotshot to rush to their bedroom door, catching his boyfriend before he walked in. "Ike!"

"No estoy hablando contigo", Ike mentioned before he walked in and closed the door in Hotshot's face, leaving the man stressed and confused. The Brooklyn native sighed, placing a hand on the door's handle, only to find it locked.