Newsies Oneshots

Sprace/sheepshead✅❗️

❗️= implied feelings, maybe

Ah my beloved sillys!

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The first time Spot met Race was long before Spot Conlon was Spot Conlon. He wasn't king of Brooklyn, he wasn't feared, or even noticed much, by other Newsies. He was a kid, only recently having joined the Newsboys, trying to figure out his place in the world.

In a long search for places to sell in Brooklyn, Spot stumbled into a loud and crowded horse racetrack. The seats were full and full of gamblers hoping that this race might be different. Spot glanced around hoping not to find any other Newsies in sight, but much to his dismay a skinny blonde boy was frantically waving papers in people's faces in one of the stands.

Spot sighed, he had walked all the way to the Sheepshead but still couldn't sell.  He decided to watch the race instead of going back, hopefully selling some papers along the way.

He watched the boy out of curiosity. He looked about Spot's age, around 10, and almost the same height as well. The boy had messy blonde hair and freckles all over his nose. His eyes were blue with green mixed in and-

The boy had noticed him.

He had started walking over to Spot, who was trying to look like he hadn't been staring.

"So, did ya win or lose?"

"What?" Spot stared blankly.

"The race. Didn't you bet?" The boy leaned against the railing, looking at him with interest.

"Oh-" Spot felt dumb, "no, I ain't got nothin to spare."

The boy gave a small nod and stared down at the track. He was a little taller than Spot, but still pretty short being a kid.

Spot cleared his throat, "So... what's your name?"

The kid frowned at him.. "a- uh. Higgins, last name is Higgins."

"You got a first name?"

"No," the boy shrugged, "not one anyone can call me, at least."

Now it was Spot's turn to frown, "Well they gotta call you something..." he looked around. "Why not..... Racetrack?"

The boy smirked, "Racetrack Higgins?" He laughed, "sure, sure. And what might one call you?"

Spot stuttered, "Sean- I mean Spot! Spot Conlon." He mentally kicked himself for using his real name. Spot had only had his nickname for a week at this point, and it was easy to forget.

"Well," the boy, Racetrack, got up. "I better be going, see you around Spot!"

~~~

Spot didn't visit the Sheepshead after that. Not because he was avoiding Racetrack, life just got in the way. He found a new selling spot, he started gaining a reputation, and he was taught to not interact with Manhattan Newsies. Racetrack, he learned, being one of them. He had heard, though, that the name Racetrack had quickly stuck with the other newsies.

After had he earned the title 'King of Brooklyn' he had decided it was time to go back to the Sheepshead, especially if Racetrack was still selling there. Since it was Brooklyn territory. But it had taken him awhile to have the time. So by the time he had entered the Sheepshead again he was 16, and hadn't seen Racetrack since that time 6 years ago when they were kids.

He spotted Racetrack right away, he was waving a paper in one hand while yelling headlines at people. Spot stared.

Race was tall, a lot taller than Spot, and his hair was curlier. His eyes still shone, but the childish innocence was gone. He was pretty, very pretty. Spot found himself getting lost in the details of Racetrack's face.