Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Home At Last-Ikeshot

Just some Shot caring for Ike. Enjoy!

———————————————————————

Hotshot tried listening to what Spot was telling him, but it was hard to focus on anything. "And he's not with Elmer?"

"No, Elmer said that they went they're separate ways after leaving the mall." Hotshot groaned, his pacing beginning to speed up. This couldn't be happening. "That's all they know."

"Well, could you tell them to watch out for their friends next time?" He didn't mean to say it, especially not out of anger, and the silence from the other side was an adamant indicator that he was so lucky Spot wasn't standing in front of him. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I didn't- I'm sorry."

Spot hummed, and Hotshot knew he would have to wait this out a bit. The both of them were worked up over this, and nothing was really making sense. "Right. It's fine."

Hotshot really didn't mean it, especially not when he knew Elmer was just as upset about hearing Ike hadn't gotten home yet. He was worried about his boyfriend, especially since he knew that his mouth could get him into trouble more than it got him out of it. "I just want to know if he's okay."

"Did you try calling him?" Of course he did. He'd tried calling Ike's phone multiple times, and texted him more than that, but he got nothing. Just an endless amount of being left on delivered and unsent messages. "Maybe he's just taking a longer way home."

"Yeah, he didn't pick up", Hotshot sighed, rubbing his forehead frustratedly. "And everywhere in New York is a long way."

"Alright. Did he drop his location?" Ike had done that when he and Elmer arrived at the mall to let Hotshot know what mall they would be at, since he couldn't remember the name of it. In fact, it was just hours ago that Ike was sending him pictures of shirts he'd found that were so dumb, it made rocks look like they had degrees.

"Yeah", Hotshot mumbled, pulling his phone away from his ear and checking the time. "Like...Like four hours ago."

He couldn't do this. Anything could've happened to him—he could be hurt, stranded, kidnapped. Dead.

Ike couldn't be dead. Hotshot would know if he was dead. But that didn't stop the idea from coming to him.

"Spot", Hotshot called, sitting carefully onto the couch, grabbing at his hair. He felt his nose burn and his eyes prick with tears, trying his hardest to keep his best friend from hearing him cry. "Dude, what if he-"

The door clicked, the top lock turning and the bottom not long after, sounding like relief to Hotshot's ears. He watched as the door opened and his boyfriend stepped into the apartment, singing softly to himself and carrying a few shopping bags. "Ike?"

Hotshot hung up on Spot, staring at his boyfriend in bewilderment. His bright eyes, beautiful green eyes, and most importantly, as living and breathing body. "Hey, Shotty. You okay?"

He didn't know. Hotshot honestly didn't know. "Where have you been?"

Ike furrowed his brows, confused. Hotshot knew where he was, he even greeted him goodbye. These questions seemed a bit crazy to Ike, and the tired, disheveled look Hotshot was sporting wasn't exactly what he was looking forward to coming home to. "At the mall? Why?"

"Because you, you dropped off the face of the fucking earth for three hours!" Ike was surprised now, especially at the false anger in his boyfriend's voice. "I called you thirty times. You said you would be gone for two hours!"

Ike sighed exasperatedly, heeling his shoes off as he locked the door. "Yeah, I-"

"Why didn't you answer?!" Hotshot stared at a startled and surprised Ike, who just noticed the distraught look in his eyes and rather careless flow of his hair. "How was I supposed to know what happened to you? You could've been hurt, or stranded, or-"

He couldn't bring himself to say it. Thinking about the possibility was torture enough. There wasn't anything to worry about anymore; Ike was standing right in front of him, perfectly fine. He was healthy, seemingly happy—Hotshot though he was overreacting. Still, he couldn't get the heavy pounding in his chest to settle down. "Are you okay?"

Ike nodded quickly, walking up to Hotshot carefully, like he was approaching a scared puppy. It was clear Hotshot was stressing out, and the younger felt bad for making him worry. He didn't meant to take so long getting home—two hours really was the deal—but it didn't turn out that way. "I'm fine, Shotty. Nothing bad happened."

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Hotshot checked over Ike slickly, but the shorter still rolled his eyes fondly. "Did you lose it? What-"

"It died", Ike clarified, and he watched Hotshot's features soften. Ike smiled. "It died on me halfway through, and Elmer had to go somewhere after lunch, so I ended up taking the subway."

The Brooklynite was going to ignore the thought of Ike taking the subway by himself, despite how dangerous he thought it was—which Ike thought was stupid since he's grown up in New York City and knows how to act on the subway. "That...That's it?"

"Yeah", Ike shrugged, showing his uncharged phone. "I didn't have a way of contacting anyone. I'm sorry."

Hotshot sighed, his eyes closed and burning from stressed tears as he rubbed his forehead. Ike grabbed his hand and held it, running a comforting thumb against the skin. He knew this was one of the fastest ways to get his boyfriend to calm down, and it was one of his favorites. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

"It's okay", Hotshot accepted, finally looking back at his boyfriend. "Just...bring a charger next time. You have a million battery packs. Please use one."

"Okay", Ike laughed, planting a kiss to the palm of Hotshot's hand. "I will."

The taller wrapped his arms around the shorter in a hug, reminiscing in the feel of him. It was nice to be able to be like this, in each other's arms. Ike took a deep breath just as Hotshot did, the both of them seeming to become released into a calmer environment, one they were proud to create. "I'm sorry for yelling."

"I get it. You were worried. But I appreciate that."

Hotshot pulled away from the hug first, and Ike smiled at the familiar friendly eyes. "Do you want to make dinner or take out?"

"Maybe you should make dinner", Ike suggested, and Hotshot knew he had to be messing with him. "What?"

"Do you have a death wish?" Ike laughed as he walked away to the kitchen, Hotshot not far behind. "I'd either poison us or burn down the apartment building."

"No, yeah, you are that bad." Ike laughed harder as Hotshot playfully punched him in the shoulder, reaching up to grab a frying pan. "Did you want me to lie?"

"No", Hotshot admitted, wrapping his arms around Ike's waist from behind. The shorter smiled to himself, turning on the stovetop. "I want you to be as honest with me as you can."

"Alright, fine", Ike shrugged, turning around in his boyfriend's arms to look him in the eyes. "Hotshot, you suck ass as cooking."

"Thanks, Isaac."

"But I am willing to help you." Ike placed a kissed to Hotshot's lips, one that made him chase after his own lips and made Ike laugh. "First lesson of the kitchen: always watch your food."

"I bet there's something way better I can watch", Hotshot flirted, being met with a deadpan look from Ike. It was clear he wasn't having it, especially when he picked up a metal spatula from beside him.

"I'm going to kill you with the spatula."

"Sounds hot, I'm in."

Ike promptly pushed a cackling Hotshot off of him, rolling his eyes with fond annoyance and amazement that he has someone like Hotshot to care for and worry about him, even if he was similar to a sack of humorous potatoes.

——————————————————————

I dislike the ending, but I'm also tired

I hope you enjoyed this! And thanks for reading!!