BMC & DEH One-shots

Sneak Peek/I Gots Poisonality Pt 1

A/n: youse all saw 'dis coming so it dont needs no in-tro-duction!
Bonus: if ya can guess who I cast as which newsie or extra ya win a tip of the hat from me- or a mention in the next one shot or whatever, I don't know. Just ya win something. There's characters from lots of different musicals so... it's a tough one! This is taking so long to finish so... here's a sneak peek/pt 1 because it's 3000 words

—————————————————

"Where de hell are you goin' before morning bell?" Jer sprung up from his sleeping place. It was the summer of 1899 in New York and the sun had barely risen, yet one newsboy seemed to be up and ready. Of course, the Jer Kelly had been up in arms at the small clank of a wooden crutch, only to find it was his best friend and bond-brother heading out at the ungodly hour of sunrise. "Go back ta sleep," he groaned, stretching his lanky arms and twisting his back around to hear a satisfying pop!

His brother — Crutchie, they called him, due to the wooden crutch he lugged around — only sighed, attempting his way down the ladder to the street, balancing on one leg, the other still slightly twisted in an uncomfortable direction. "I wanna beat the other fellas to the street. I uh- I ain't been walkin' so good..."

Jer all but scoffed at the complaint coming from Crutchie. It was unusual for the tan boy to complain, yes, but he was lucky. "Quit your mopin', you knows damn well how many guys fake a limp for sympathy. That bum leg of yers is a gold mine."

That comment seemed to strike hard on the fifteen year old as he hopped down a rung on the latter. What the hell! Jer hissed in his mind. He knew damn well Crutchie didn't like the fact his leg didn't heal after coming down with polio at a young age. In his eyes, he saw it as a cheat and a weakness in NYC, a way to sell papes without begging or doing any hard toil for it. It had taken Jer a month to convince him that he was only doing what other boys did on the streets, though, they were only faking a limp. It wasn't a little known fact that Crutchie despised any and all help, unless he asked for it of course.

"Don't be stupid," Crutchie re-adjusted his cap, making it down another rung successfully. "They'll lock me up in The Refuge soon as theyse see me strugglin' to make it down the street! Just... just be a pal and help me down-" a yelp rang out that had Jer's heart racing as he lunged for the boy muttering one too many curses.

"You wanna bust your other leg, too?!"

The scowl the other boy threw his way was enough to shut Jer up for now. "No," Crutchie insisted, already readying to hop down the ladder. "I want to go down."

Jer grabbed the boy by the collar as he just about fell off again, dragging him away a safe distance behind the railings. He was tired and ready to argue this morning for being woken up so early, so Jer sure as hell wasn't just gonna let Crutchie go without a fight of the verbal kind.

"And I want to go to Santa Fe," he retorted, sitting Crutchie on the ground carefully, going to retrieve his crutch that'd been dropped mid-drag. "but it looks like we ain't gettin' neither of 'em. Take a moment to drink in my penthouse in the sky, high above the stinkin' streets of New York."

"Youse is insane."

"Jus' cause I like seeing the horizon for once?" Jer cocked a brow, leaning back on the rails, the cool breeze of dawn prickling his skin. "Or the sun and stars?"

Crutchie hopped to his feet, rolling his eyes. "Oh look, I seem 'em too!" He exclaimed, hands gesturing to Jer's head. "Dancing in your dreams o' Santa Fe!"

Jer chuckled, looking down at the streets of Lower Manhattan, the very same streets his mother left him to starve and his father to die, torn and bloody like yesterday's pape- not the bloody bit though, papers didn't get bloody obviously. Unfortunately the rotten streets hadn't quite killed Jer yet. They sure gave it a try, between the bums and the bulls all scrapping for a young orphan they could sell as a slave, or in the worst neighbourhoods, to eat.