I do not own Disney, Newsies, Specs, or Dutchy.

I am making no money from this story.

1899/SLASH

A/N: This story was written for pennylayne in honor of her birthday.

The Ugly Dutchling

Dutchy examined his reflection in the small mirror above the washbasin. His expression was one of complete disdain. He looked as though he'd just smelled a rotten egg.

He splashed a generous amount of hair tonic into his palm then rubbed his hands together and ran his fingers through his shiny blonde hair. After locating a comb in the debris on the shelf, he raked it through the dampened locks. First he tried parting his hair on the left, then on the right, and then in the middle. Each time the mass of soft blonde hair flopped back down over his spectacles.

"Well that ain't gonna help," Dutchy grumbled.

Next, he moved his head from side to side and examined his nose from every conceivable angle. Then looking as though he'd noticed them for the first time, Dutchy tilted his head back to get a better look at his nostrils. He pushed his spectacles high on the bridge of his nose then moved his face closer to the mirror. After letting out an exasperated groan, he proceeded to examine his teeth. With his upper lip curled tight into a snarl, Dutchy clenched his teeth together as if he were a wild animal preparing to attack. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat and stuck out his tongue at his reflection.

"What the hell are you doing?" Specs asked, sounding half amused and half concerned at his friend's strange behavior.

"How long have you been standing there?" Dutchy huffed, feeling the warmth of his reddening cheeks.

"Too long," Specs chuckled. "I came in when you were doing - - whatever it was you were trying to do to your hair. What are you up to anyway?"

"Just lookin'. . . . Hey! Do you think my nose is too big?" Dutchy asked, sticking his nose into his friend's face.

"No," Specs said, straightening his spectacles to get a better look. "I think that your nose is the prefect size for your face."

"Well, how about my nostrils?" Dutchy, asked raising his chin to give Specs a better view.

"Jeese, Dutch!" Specs said, pushing Dutchy's face away with his hand. "Why the hell would I want to look up your nostrils? That's disgusting!"

Dutchy shrugged then turned back to the mirror to give himself another look. He tilted back his head and jutted out his jaw then noticed a patch of whiskers that he'd missed when shaving. He pumped some water unto his shaving mug and proceeded to lather his face and shave.

"What are you doing now, Dutch? I saw you shave this morning, so you can't possibly be ready for another. Did you change your mind about going to the dance or something?"

"No," he replied through the towel as he removed the remainder of the lather. "I was already in here, so I figured what the hell."

Dutchy sighed as they walked back into the bunkroom. He threw himself onto his bunk and let out a mournful groan.

"Somethin' bothering you, Dutch?"

"Jeese this place is quiet," he replied.

"What do you expect? Everyone, including Mr. Kloppman, is at the dance . . . . That's somethin' isn't it? The old man's got himself a girlfriend."

"That finishes it," Dutchy huffed. "Kloppman's at the dance and I'm not. What does he have that I don't?"

"A girlfriend," Specs chuckled.

"Well, it isn't fair."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing, my friend."

"Yeah. . . . And so am I."

"What are you talkin' about? What makes you think that you're ugly?"

"Have you forgotten about Nellie Finnigan? When I asked her to the dance, Nellie told me that she wouldn't be seen with anyone who looked like a scarecrow. She said that I'm all arms and legs and clumsy enough to trip over my own shadow."

"That was two years ago, you moron. You were all arms and legs back then. And your feet were so big that you couldn't get out of your own way. I believe they call that the awkward stage. All boys go through it."

"Well, what about Millie Green? Last week I asked her to go to the dance, and she laughed in my face."

"If you want my opinion, you dodged a bullet there. That girl looks like Weasel in a dress. . . . Actually, I think that Weasel is a little prettier than she is. Besides, I thought that you didn't like Millie Green."

"I don't. I just wanted to go to the dance. All the other guys were going so I figured that I should go too. I told Millie that seeing as nobody else was gonna ask her, I'd be willing to take her."

"Gee. And she actually turned down a romantic invitation like that? I'm surprised that she didn't punch you in the nose before she turned you down. Besides, there are plenty of girls who would jump at the chance to go out with you. All you'd have to do is ask one them without being insulting."

"Nah. I'm just not the lover-boy type like Cowboy or Skittery."

Dutchy reached up and started plucking on the springs of the bunk above his. "So why aren't you at the dance? There's always a bunch of girls hinging around you. I've seen 'im battin' their eyelashes and giggling when you walk by. I heard what that big-bosomed Annie Brinkman said to you yesterday; 'Oh Specs! You're so big and strong. I bet you can carry more papers than aaaaanybody.' How come you didn't ask her or one of the other girls to go to the dance with you?"

"Cause I didn't want to go with any of them. All of that giggling gets on my nerves. And besides, I'm not that good of a dancer."

"You're not as bad as you think you are. And at least you could practice and become a better dancer. It's not like I can practice not lookin' like a scarecrow."

"Aah. Poor boy," Specs mocked as he threw a pillow at his friend. "You're such a sad Ugly Dutchling."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dutchy hissed.

"I was making a joke, you dope. You know. Like the story about the Ugly Duckling?"

Dutchy gave Specs that look. It was the one that made him look like he was five years old, and someone was trying to teach him arithmetic in Greek.

"Jeese, Dutch. It's a famous kid's story. Don't you ever open a book?"

"Why should I when I can get you to read to me? I like the way you change your voice for all the different characters. You make it sound exciting. It's kinda like going to a show, but it doesn't cost me anything."

"What am I gonna do with you?" Specs sighed. He opened his footlocker and took out a beat up copy of Hans Christian Anderson's Children's Stories. Specs had saved his money and bought it at the secondhand bookstore around the corner. He sat down on the bunk and ran his hand across the worn cloth cover as though he were greeting an old and cherished friend.

Dutchy stretched out on his bunk facing Specs. There was nothing he liked more than the sound of his friend's voice as he red to him of great adventures and tragic tales.

Specs removed his spectacles and cleaned them on the front of his shirt then situated them back in their proper place. "Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Anderson," he began.

"It was lovely summer weather in the country, and the golden corn, the green oats, and the haystacks piled up in the meadows looked beautiful."

Specs went on to read of the sad little duckling that was driven from his home when he was very young. He read of the hardships the duckling endured in trying to find a place where he belonged and of the sadness he felt in being different.

"One evening, just as the sun set amid radiant clouds, there came a large flock of beautiful birds out of the bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them before. They were swans, and they curved their graceful necks, while their soft plumage shown with dazzling whiteness. They uttered a singular cry, as they spread their glorious wings and flew away from those cold regions to warmer countries across the sea. As they mounted higher and higher in the air, the ugly little duckling felt quite a strange sensation as he watched them.

. . . He knew not the names of these birds, nor where they had flown, but he felt towards them as he had never felt for any other bird in the world."

Specs smiled when he glanced up at his friend. Dutchy was watching him intently. His blue eyes sparkled from behind the smudged spectacles, and his jaw hung slightly open showing a glimpse of the delightfully crooked teeth inside.

"Don't stop now," Dutchy said excitedly. "I wanna find out what happened to the little duck."

"It would be very sad, were I to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter; but when it had passed, he found himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes.

. . . From a thicket close by came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers, and swimming lightly over the smooth water. The duckling remembered the lovely birds, and felt more strangely unhappy than ever.

. . . But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image; no longer a dark, gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. . . . He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him; for the great swans swam round the new-comer, and stroked his neck with their beaks, as a welcome.

. . . Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, 'I never dreamed of such happiness as this, while I was an ugly duckling.' - - The End."

Specs closed the book and looked at his friend. "Well, how'd you like it?"

Dutchy sat up and shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it was a nice story, Specs. Really it was. But I don't see what it has to do with me. The little duck in that story ended up being a beautiful swan, and I still look like a scarecrow."

"You can't possibly be that stupid!" Specs shouted. "Nobody is that stupid!"

"Whadda you gettin' all worked up for, Specs? I said that I liked the story, didn't I?"

"C'mere!" Specs snapped as he grabbed Dutchy by the shirtfront. Dutchy stumbled to his feet and trotted along trying to keep up with his best friend and his only clean shirt.

Specs held onto the shirt as he pulled his friend through the bunkroom and into the washroom. "There!" he shouted as he shoved Dutchy in front of the mirror.

"There what?"

"There!" Specs said, pointing him back in front of the mirror. "Look at yourself! You're not a scarecrow or an ugly duckling. You're a freakin' swan, you moron!"

Dutchy looked at his reflection and studied it for a moment then looked back at Specs giving him a confused shrug.

"Damn-it, Dutchy! Can't you see it? You carry yourself straight and tall, and you stand out from everyone else. When you move there's nothin' clumsy about you. I saw you runnin' the other day, and you moved smooth and easy like those swans you see sailing across the pond in the park. You even look like a damn swan with that long neck and all that white-blonde hair!"

Dutchy tilted his head from side to side as he examined himself in the mirror. "Do you really think so?" he asked.

"Jeese!" Specs shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You've got something else in common with that stupid bird. He spent all that time trying to fit in where he didn't belong just like you do. He didn't even recognize the other swans when he saw them. He couldn't see that being with them was the best thing for him. It's like you askin' Nellie Finnigan and Millie Green to go to the dance when you don't even like them. You're so desperate to fit in that you don't even recognize someone who wants to be with you when they're standing right in front of you!"

"What the hell are you talkin' about, Specs? And why are you yellin' at me?"

"Damn-it, Dutchy! You're so thick, I cold just. . ."

With that Specs grabbed Dutchy by the shirtfront and kissed him, then shoved him away and stormed back into the bunkroom.

Dutchy fell backward and landed seat first into the empty washbasin. He struggled momentarily to pull himself out then ran after his best friend.

Specs was at his footlocker when Dutchy caught up with him.

"What the hell was that?" Dutchy asked.

Specs didn't answer. He opened the footlocker and carefully placed the book under his winter long johns and his clean socks.

"C'mon, Specs. Talk to me. What are you so angry about? First you're reading me this nice story about a little duck, and then you're draggin' me around by my shirt and yellin' at me about havin' a long neck and being a good runner or somethin'. And then - - then you - - - did that other thing."

"That other thing was a kiss, Dutchy. . . . A kiss. That's what people do when they care for each other. That's what you and Millie Green would be doing if either of you gave a damn!"

"You want me to kiss Millie Green? That's disgusting!"

"You really don't get it, do you? You're lucky that you're good-lookin' because you'd starve if you had to depend solely on that brain of yours."

"You think that I'm good-lookin'?"

"Jeese, Dutch! You are good-lookin'! Everybody thinks that you're good-lookin'! You're downright handsome!"

"Specs, why the hell are you yellin' at me?"

"Why am I yellin'? . . . I'm yellin' because I just went and kissed the best friend I ever had. And in case this isn't getting through that thick blonde head of yours, the person I'm talking about is you! I kissed you, ya big dope! And what do you do? . . . Nothin'! You don't even get angry. Hell, you didn't even notice that I kissed you! All you care about is whether or not the entire world thinks that you're good-lookin'!"

"I wasn't askin' if the entire world thinks that I'm good-lookin', you idiot. I was askin' if you think I'm good-lookin'. And I didn't get angry about the kiss because I'm not angry. I did notice that you kissed me. I'm just surprised is all."

"You're not angry?"

"No."

"Well, you should be, you dope."

"Why?"

"Why? Because you're a guy! And in case you haven't noticed it, I'm a guy too!"

"Oh, I've noticed," Dutchy smirked as he moved closer to Specs. "I notice it every morning when I watch you crawl outa bed and stumble to the washroom. And I notice it every day when I watch you washin' up and shavin' that poor excuse of a mustache. You never knew that I was watching you, did ya?"

"Ah . . . Nope." Specs mumbled in amazement.

"And I noticed it last year when you had that fever, and I had to keep washin' your body down with alcohol to keep you cool. . . . Do you remember that?"

"Um. . . . Sort of," Specs replied, taking a step back from his advancing friend.

"And I noticed it this year when I had the fever, and you were washing me down to keep me cool. You remember that, don't you?"

"Well - - I think I kinda remember," Specs sputtered, trying to avoid Dutchy's intense blue eyes.

"Having you wash me down felt real good, but it didn't do much to help the fever."

"It didn't?"

"Nope. I think that it made my temperature go even higher."

"I - - um - - it did?" Specs stuttered as he took a few more steps back.

"Uh-huh," Dutchy grinned as he moved closer to his ever retreating friend. "And I definitely noticed that you're a guy last week when we were helping Kloppman clean out the attic. It was so hot up there that you had to take off your shirt because you were dripping with sweat. It wasn't easy for me to keep my mind on broken chairs and twisted bedsprings with you bumpin' up against me wearin' nothin' but your boots, your trousers, and that hat of yours."

"I - - I didn't know that you - - Oof!" Specs grunted as he backed into the far wall of the bunkroom.

Dutchy could almost see the wheels turning in Specs head as he plotted an escape.

"Um – Okay. That's real interesting, Dutch. But I've gotta go and do - - something," Specs said sliding along the wall away from his friend.

"Well, I think that you've gotta stay and do something right here," Dutchy said, reaching out his arm and placing his hand against the wall to block Specs' escape.

"Really, Dutch. I've gotta go cause I've got - - this thing someplace else that I need to take care of." Specs slid along the wall in the opposite direction and was stopped by Dutchy's other arm blocking his second route of escape.

"Really, Specs. Don't you think there's something here that you need to take care of first?"

"No - - No, I don't think so." Specs stuttered, trying to look anyplace but into Dutchy's clear blue eyes.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that you should always finish what you start?"

"My mother never got a chance to tell me much of anything."

"Well, lets you and me see if we can figure this out together. Okay?"

"Um - - Okay."

"Well, you kissed me, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you said that's what people do when they care about each other, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then you care about me, right?"

"A'corse I do. You're my best friend and - -"

"That's not what I'm askin', and you know it. You like me, don't you?"

"Whadda you mean, like you? And why the hell are you standin' so close? Would you back off a little, and let me breath?"

"Am I standin' a little too close?" Dutchy asked, pressing his body against Specs.

"This isn't funny, Dutch! Will ya back off already?'

"I'm not trying to be funny," Dutchy murmured in a deliberately slow breath that washed across Specs' face.

The smell of shaving soap and hair tonic filled Specs' senses as Dutchy's warm cheek brushed against his.

"So what you're saying is that you wouldn't like it if I kissed you on the ear like this?" Dutchy whispered as his lips touched the other's earlobe.

"Ah - - No - - I, ahhh . . . "

"And you really wouldn't like it if I kissed you on the neck like this?"

"Well, I - - Ummmmmmmmm. . . . Huh, what?"

"And I guess that you'd be pretty upset if I did this?" Dutchy whispered as he brushed his lips gently across Specs mouth.

Specs hesitated for only a moment and then leaned eagerly into the kiss. It was everything he'd imagined, and more. He had to remind himself to breathe when Dutchy's tongue moved against his lips and teeth. Then a warm flush surged through his body when Dutchy's tongue met his own.

Dutchy could feel Specs excitement growing firm against his leg and moved their bodies closer to feel its full effect. Their hips writhed together in a perfectly matched rhythm. Specs became lost in the blanket of new sensations that caressed his body and mind. He heard a low and urgent moan that made his blood rush and his heart beat faster. Suddenly his body tensed at the realization that the moaning was his own. It took all the strength he could muster to push Dutchy away from his body.

"What the hell?" Specs asked breathlessly.

"What?"

"What the hell was that?"

"Well, I won't claim to be an expert on the subject, but I think that's what they call a kiss. You know. That's the thing that you said people do when they care for each other."

"I know what it was. What I mean is why'd you do it?"

"I've wanted to try that since we were ten years old and I got jealous when I saw you kissin' Peggy Nolan out behind the dress shop."

"Well, why the hell were you jealous? You could've kissed Peggy too. Everybody kisses Peggy."

"That's not what I mean, you moron. And besides, I did kiss Peggy. That same afternoon, Snoddy bet me two cents that I wouldn't kiss her in front of her mother. The old lady nearly beat me to death with her shopping basket, but I did it. Then I took the money that I won from Snoddy and treated you to an ice cream soda. . . . So yeah, I've kissed Peggy. I've kissed her plenty of times. Like you said, everybody kisses Peggy. But that's not what I meant when I said that I was jealous. I was jealous because you were kissin' her and not me."

Specs threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Well, if this don't beat all," he shorted.

"Don't laugh at me!" Dutchy shouted, waving his fist.

"I'm not laughing at you," Specs chuckled, putting his hand gently over Dutchy's fist. "I'm laughing because I wanted to kiss you the very first time I saw you."

"You did? What were we, eight or somethin'?"

"Nine. We were nine years old. I'll never forget the way you looked when Mr. Kloppman brought you into the bunkroom that first night. You were wearing a pair of knickers and a jacket that were both two sizes too big. One of your bootlaces was untied, and your stocking were drooping over your boots so that your skinny white legs were showing."

"Hey! Your legs are skinnier than mine."

"Not back then they weren't. You had your head down and all that shiny blonde hair was covering a good portion of your face. When you looked up, my stomach filled with butterflies. I could tell that you'd been crying because your eyes were all red, and you had snot dripping from your nose."

"That must have been a pretty sight," Dutchy smiled.

"I thought it was. I would've thought that you looked like a swan back then if I'd known what a swan was. I went over to say hello, but you dove into your bunk and pulled the blanket over your head."

"Yeah. I wanted to hide, but you plopped yourself down on my bunk and shook me until I gave in and came out from under the blanket. You told me that I shouldn't feel bad or scared because the lodging house was a nice place and you and me were gonna be friends."

"That's right. Then you wiped your nose on your sleeve and gave me a smile that turned my stomach upside-down. That's when I wanted to kiss you."

"And a year later, we both got of first kiss from Peggy Nolan."

Specs stared at Dutchy for a moment. He frowned as though he was a parent and Dutchy was his wayward child. "So, was Peggy the one who taught you to kiss like that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Peggy's a good teacher." Specs said, raising an eyebrow.

"She's had a lot of practice."

"Yeah? And from what I could tell she gave you a lot of practice too."

"Well, everybody else was doing it so - -"

"So, you were trying to be like everybody else?"

"Well, you kissed her too, ya know."

"Yeah, but I just wanted to find out what all the fuss was about. I tried it, and it was okay and all, but I realized that it wasn't for me. But you were like that stupid duck. You kept on trying to fit in where you didn't belong."

Dutchy leaned against the bunk and stared at the floor as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. When he looked up, he saw Specs staring at him and smiling.

"Whadda you lookin' at?"

"You look just like you did that first night when Kloppman brought you home. The only thing that's missing is the red eyes and the snot."

"So, now what?"

"Now we keep our mouths shut. The guys will be coming home soon. I don't know about you, but I sure don't want them to know what went on in here tonight."

"Oh," Dutchy said. He'd hoped that Specs would give him some sort of reassurance but he didn't. "Okay then," Dutchy said as he climbed into his bunk and pulled the covers over his head.

Specs sat on the edge of the bunk and shook Dutchy until he gave in and stuck out his head. "What?!" he asked impatiently.

"I meant that we shouldn't be talking about this in the bunkroom where the guys could hear us. I didn't say that we shouldn't talk about it at all."

"Huh?"

"C'mon," Specs said as he flung the blanket off of Dutchy and grabbed him by the shirt again.

"Where are we goin' now?"

"You and me are goin' up to the roof for a little show-and-tell. From what I can see, Peggy Nolan is a damn good teacher. And from what the guys tell me, she's a very talented young lady too. They she has talents that can make your eyes cross."

"That she does," Dutchy grinned.

"So you and me are goin' up on the roof, and you're gonna show me everything that girl taught you!"

Hours later, Specs and Dutchy were resting comfortably up on the roof. They remained in each other's arms as they looked out at the sleeping city.

"What are you thinking?" Specs asked, noticing the contented smile on Dutchy's face.

"I was thinking about that little duck. About what he said at the end of the story. He was right, ya know," Dutchy said, taking Specs hand into his own. "I never woulda thought that I could be this happy when I was an Ugly Dutchling."

The End

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

A/N: I'd hoped for a better ending to this story, but as long as Specs and Dutchy are satisfied, that's all that matters.