Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Tricky Feelings-OscarxCrutchie

This idea is credited to thesheepsheadraces Thanks for the idea!

I hope you enjoy.

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If Oscar had a dollar for every time he felt his heart pounding at the sight of Crutchie Morris, he'd be richer than a Rockefeller.

The blonde Newsie seemed to hold his heart in his hand without even realizing it, like an unknowing victim to an important artifact. Oscar wasn't complaining, however; he'd never. If someone were to have his heart, he's glad it was Crutchie.

"Mornin', Oscar", he smiled, Oscar's scowl melting into a friendly smile. It was hard not to grin at Crutchie, almost as hard as it was to not enjoy ice cream. "How's it going?"

"Pretty...pretty good", Oscar stuttered, clearing his throat. He turned to his uncle and grabbed the papers, handing them to the blonde kindly. He watched as Crutchie took the fifty pages and grinned softly, nodding. "Sell good, alright?"

That felt better than threatening him or saying nothing at all. It felt so much better. "Thanks. See you around!"

Oscar bit his lip as he watched Crutchie walk away, making his way toward Jack Kelly. He didn't have too much of a problem with Jack anymore, saving for the occasional snide comment, usually followed by laughter. As a matter of fact, they were pretty good friends. But that didn't matter, not when Crutchie was planning to "see him around".

Oscar tapped the table beneath his hands, watching Crutchie laugh and converse with his friends, walking off and away to do his job. I hate watching him go.

Even if he had a job to do. "Oscar!"

"What?" The teen turned around to face his brother, who stood with a knowing look on his face. Oscar furrowed his brows at Morris' crypticness. "What do you want?"

"You gonna give the guy his papers?" Oscar looked in front of him to see Finch standing there with a tired and expectant look, practically snatching the papers away. He seemed to be too exhausted to care for manners, the brothers telling from the bags under his eyes. "Heya, Finch, how's Henry?"

Oscar and Morris snickered as the Newsie flipped them off, making a quick leave. The wind blew softly, and Oscar figured it was a perfect way to end a selling job. "Nice day."

"Yeah, I bet", Morris agreed, crossing his arms. He leaned against the wall and watched his brother closely, the dazed look in his eyes and unnoticeable smile on his lips. He was in a trance, a very obvious, very big, very gay trance. "So, you and the crip, huh?"

Oscar turned to his brother almost angrily, taking offense to a name that didn't belong to him. "Crutchie."

"Crutchie", Morris corrected, holding his hands up in surrender. His smile never left his face, however, despite his brother's offense. "You and Crutchie?"

"Me and Crutchie are what?" Oscar stared at his brother for a second, only becoming more confused by the older's vague gestures. Morris wasn't being much a help to himself or anyone, prompting Oscar to sigh frustratedly. "Look, man. You need to start finishing your sentences."

Morris rolled his eyes. "All I'm tryin' to say is that if...", he paused, searching for the right word. All the ones he knew were offensive, or so he learned when talking to Spot late at night. "If you's like the Newsies, nobody's gonna judge you for that, not even Uncle Weas."

Oscar heart pounded loudly in his chest, wanting him to spill every secret he had in him. He could trust Morris, he was his brother. But something still ate at him. The suggestion, perhaps. "I ain't..."