Can't Wait to Be King, a newsies fanfic

-1I Just Can't Wait to Be King

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies

Author's Note: This is my first Newsies fan fiction, so I hope you like it.

Bolded Letters Spike's 'part'

Not bolded letters Spot's 'part'
--Being so, the two are NOT singing to each other. It is background music--

Enjoy!

"One day, little bruddah, chyou'll take me place hea in Brooklyn," Spike Conlon said to his little brother, Spot. The two Irish newsies strolled down the Brooklyn docks, Spike twirling his gold-tipped, black cane in his hand. No one could tell they were brothers unless a friend of theirs told them. Spike was nineteen, tall and muscular. Bright red hair topped his head, freckles painted his face. Bright green eyes sparkled under his brow. He was a true definition of Irish.

His younger brother, Spot, contrasted him. He was shorter, lanky. He possessed muscled arms, but they would only show when put to a vigorous activity. A light brunette mop lay upon his head. Without his newsboy cap, it would brush in front of his light blue eyes. These eyes caught every movement, every detail. They were ever watchful for mistakes, flaws or enemies. He was fifteen and already had gained respect and fear of many of the newsies of New York.

Of course that fear and respect came from his title as Spike Conlon's younger brother. Spike Conlon was the King of Brooklyn and had made a name for himself as one of the greatest newsie leaders. But one day, Spot would command fear and respect for being who he was, not who is brother was.

"One day," he mumbled, staring over to the far end of the Brooklyn Bridge. "One day I will be king." Spike chuckled and ruffled his younger brother's hair. He earned a back hand to the shoulder from Spot for such an expression of affection.

"Yeah yeah, one day Spot," Spike replied. "An chyou don't let anybody foget it." Spot simply shook his head curtly, still angry how his older brother had belittled him by tousling his hair. And with taking a glance at the setting sun, the King of Brooklyn turned and walked away from his little brother. He whistled an unfamiliar tune that Spot would have found intriguing if he wasn't angry with Spike.

"I'm gonna be da best damn King a Brooklyn day dis city has evea saw," he said to himself. He scuffed his shoe on the hard would, kicking an empty beer bottle into the water. He watched it slowly fill up with water and sink to the murky river depths.

I'm gonna be mighty king,

So enemies beware,

Stringing a marble to his slingshot, he turned around. Aiming twenty feet away, he pulled back on it. Firing away, he smirked. For in the blink of an eye a bottle that had been standing on a post of the docks burst. A hundred jagged pieces flew away from where the marble had made contact. The shards either landed on the dock for fell into the water.

I'm gonna be the main event,

Like no king ever was before

I'm brushing up on looking down,

I'm working on my roar!

With a swift leap, he was on a crate. He climbed the stack of them, looking down on what would eventually become his Kingdom. Brooklyn would be his.

Spotting a younger newsie, he called out to him. "Yo, Goim!" the eight year-old looked up. His brown eyes were bright and enthusiastic, like those of a puppy. He was just as eager to pleas. "Go get me a drink." The young newsie nodded and scampered off. A smirk played Spot's lips as he looked down arrogantly at the boys on the dock.

Oh I just can't wait to be king!

Soon he saw Germ scramble up to him with some difficulty. A bottle of beer he must have stole from one of the older boys was in his hand. It was giving him trouble as he tried to climb the crates. When he reached Spot, he held it out to him. The older boy snatched it from him.

"Thanks, kid," he drawled. And with a bright smile, Germ hopped back down off of the crates. Hearing the call of another older newsie, he quickly ran off.

Taking a swig of the half-drank beer, Spot's blue eyes gazed off the docks. He admired the sunset as the large golden orb of light fell under the graying city.

No one saying 'do this',

No one saying 'be here',

No one saying 'stop that!'

No one saying 'see here',

"Spot!" the call of Spot's brother rang across the docks. The fifteen year-old looked up the docks to see Spike standing at the edge. "Come on in."

"Chyou gotta be kiddin' me," he growled in an angry growl. Murmuring a few ugly words under his breath, he stepped off of his tower. Ignoring his brother, he passed him. He took a last swig of his beer and tossed it to the side in his anger. It shattered with a loud crash.

Free to run around all day,

Free to do it all my way,

"'ey!" Spike stepped in front of his brother with an agile movement. "Dere's no need fer dat." He admonished uncalled violence. But when Spot took rule, things would be different. Under his rule, not only would he be respected and feared, but all of Brooklyn would share the glory. No one would dare step into it's boundaries without a sense of fear falling over them

"Back off, Spike, chyou ain't me muddah," he growled angrily. He hated being told what to do. Especially by his brother. They were close, sure, but Spike often found himself playing parent to the headstrong Spot.

I think it's time that you and I,

Arranged a heart-to-heart,

"You ain't King a Brooklyn yet, little bruddah," Spike reminded, making himself taller as he stared down at him. "You still gotta listen ta what I say."

Kings don't need advice,

From little hornbills for a start,

"Not hadly," Spot replied. "What kinda King listens ta his oda bruddah fer advice? A bad one, dat's what kind."

If this is where the monarchy,

Is headed, count me out,

Out of service, out of Africa,

I wouldn't hang about,

This child is getting wildly out of wing.

"Oh really?" Spike challenged his little brother's tone with his own poisonous one. "Den I won't be around when chyou take my place. I'll leave, would dat make chyou happy?" His green eyes flashed dangerously, his face flushing red with growing anger. Though he opposed uncalled violence, he did not like to be spoken out against, especially by his younger brother.

Oh I just can't wait, to be king!

"Good!" Spot snapped in reply. "Didn't I just say how I don't want chyou hea when I do? Chyou can leave New York fer I cae!" He pushed his brother out of the way and stormed away from him. Things would be better without Spike.

Everybody look left,

Everybody look right,

Everywhere you look I'm,

Standing in the spotlight,

He stomped into the lodging house, he growled at anyone in his path. Being smart, they backed off, giving him his room. This pleased Spot greatly. Soon, everyone would be listening to his every command. When he told them to jump, they would ask him how high. Yes, his rule was going to be perfect. As he entered the sleeping area, all eyes were on him.

Not yet!

Or he thought they were on him. He felt a large hand on his shoulder and suddenly he was being pushed aside. And the culprit was his brother. That's who everyone had been staring at. He still commanded all the power, all the respect. But not for long.

Spot glared as the newsies listened to every command Spike ordered. The lodging house was like a well-oiled machine and one big family. But Spot still convinced himself that he could have it running bigger and better. The family would not only be a family, but an army. An army that no one would mess with.

Oh I just can't wait to be king,

The fifteen year-old could not help glaring at his bunk as he slipped into bed. Spike, being their leader, got the best bed. And the best bed had two thin mattresses and two sheets in the winter. Since it was summer, there was only one. But Spot knew the other was stored in between those two mattresses, waiting patiently to be used. Spot slept in the bed right under his brother, which was like a giant slap in the face for him. It reminded him that he had to wait for his glory, and that he would have to take down his own brother to do so.

He slipped into his bed, cold and hard. Though the cold mattress and sheets felt could on his sweating body, a relief from the August weather, the hard mattress did his sore body no good. Closing his eyes, he imagined Brooklyn how it would be under his rule. Sighing, he let eight words escape his lips.

"Oh I just can't wait to be king."

Author's Note: So that's it, I hope you enjoyed. Please read & review. The song that was used was "I Just Can't Wait to Be King" from Disney's; 'The Lion King'.