I don't own Newsies therefore I don't own Spot. The song is by Melissa Etheridge. Thank you for not suing me.
I've done it folks, started a fic and finished. Granted, this is very short, so it may not even count.
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Three months. Three months with one girl, a task that seemed impossible for Spot Conlon. In fact, it was. I'm not stupid, I know there are others, but it's me he returns to every night, it's me that wakes up in his arms every morning. It's hard to even find that on the streets of New York, I'm one of the lucky ones. Sure it was indecent, but almost everything about how I lived was. I was deemed an outcast the moment my mother set foot in New York with no husband and a pregnant belly that extended for miles, so what was a little indecency?
…and he's seen with all the women who think that he's a god and he blesses whom he pleases holding fast to the façade…
I had awaken to find myself alone in our bed, nothing new, he always left before I woke up. The bed was always cold when he left, further incentive for me to get up and get ready for work. I had a cushy job compared to most, I was employed by a seamstress not far from the old dilapidated wharf house where Spot and his band of miscreants had taken refuge for the time being.
My day was long, the mayor's daughter was turning of age and her coming out ball was just around the corner. Every other high end snob and their cousin came into the shop demanding that their attire be the most exquisite and all of us girls were set to work posthaste. Not that we minded much, if our work was in fact as exquisite as they wanted, we'd be slipped a few extra nickels.
I walked slowly back to the wharf, his wharf, Spot's wharf. Sure it belonged to the city but the city didn't matter on the streets. When I did finally step foot on the splintered boards I couldn't suppress a smile as I watched Spot animatedly retell a story from the day. He was so different with his boys compared to when he was with me. I watched him for a few brief moments before slipping into the wharf house, I wasn't wanted on the dock, I knew my place and kept my distance.
I put on a nightgown once I was safe inside our room. I took the pins from my hair and slowly began to brush the tangles out of it while I stared out the small window that looked out onto the wharf.
…looking from my tower I can see his fortress strong, surrounded by his army, where do I belong ? Does he ever find the answers In the cars as they go by? Does he ever want to ask me why? The boy feels strange …
It wasn't long before he came inside, opening the door to our room and pulling his suspenders off to either side. I look towards him and offer a warm yet tired smile.
"How was your day Spot?" I ask the same thing every evening.
"Business as usual." His normal reply before he removes his shoes and his over clothes and gets into bed.
…and he speaks to me of business when I ask him how he's been, keeps me at a distance never getting under skin…
"Spot…" I roll on my side so we are face to face. "Why me?" I ask.
He stares at me for a few moments before kissing my nose and replying, "You're talking gibberish, go to sleep baby doll."
"Please answer me." I almost plead. "Why is it me that you come home to every night?"
"Well…" he trailed off with an odd amount of emotion showing in his face.
…and he looks at me in wonder and he looks at me in fear, wrestling with his anger, his pride and stony tears, to place me in his life will be hard and slow, does he want it? need it? …
"…I guess it's 'cos I love you." He simply said, pulling me closer to him and shortly after, succumbing to sleep.
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