I disclaim.
Months after meeting Race on that fated, sunny, autumn afternoon in Sheepshead Bay, Erin found herself sitting on the floor between Ashes and Skittery in a circle in the cleared-out dining room of the Lodging House. They waited as Boots called for the rest of the newsies in the house to join in. It was the second Saturday night of the month, and that meant it was Game Night. Game Night was a tradition that had been going on since before Erin had found her way into the house, and it was pretty much sacred. If you were old enough to actually participate, you didn't miss Game Night unless you had a good reason—or a hot date. But even then, you had to see what was known as the Counsel—a group of newsies that had been around for a while and were seasoned veterans of Game Night, and were thought of as trustworthy and fair judges, fit to deem an excuse valid or not.
Usually hosted by Cowboy, Game Night's reins had been handed over to Boots for the whole Spring due to a lost bet. "Gather 'round, gather 'round!" called the new Host, and the last of the stragglers found perches on crates or stools near the circle so as not to feel left out of the game.
"Tonight, we'll be starting off with a rousing game of I Never, ladies and gents, followed by a fun," Boots waggled his eyebrows at this, "evening game of Truth or Dare for the heavyweights and the daring."
Pockets, one of the girls that bunked with Erin, had, as per usual, procured obscene amounts of liquor without any kind of explanation or hint of the source for the evening, and everyone was handed a bottle of beer to start off with. Boots went over the basic rules of I Never for the losers that hadn't played before. Someone says what they have never done, and everyone in the room that has done that thing has to take a swig of their drink. The last one sober—or standing—or conscious—wins.
Quite familiar with this game, Erin began to make a mental list of all the things she hadn't done that a fair bit of the people in the room had. Her knack for 'overhearing' conversations frequently came in handy during moments and games like these, and she prepared herself for possible victory—or, more likely, to at least not go down without a fight, and hopefully not end up too drunk off her ass.
But the inevitable was unavoidable, and Erin wasn't as skilled at holding her alcohol as well as she would have liked. As Race would say, five to one she gets drunk off her ass. Chances of remembering most of the night were slim.
That never stopped her from trying, though.
And so she played.
Looking slyly at Ashes, Pockets grinned. "I've never set any part of myself, my clothes, or someone else, on fire," she said, and Ashes, Specs and Blink all took drinks from their bottles. Erin was a little surprised at Kid Blink, but didn't say anything. She would ask him later, on an occasion that she would have better chances at remembering his story.
"I never ate a worm," Ashes said proudly, and to Erin's surprise and slight disgust, quite a few of the people in the room took swigs. She reluctantly joined them, remembering that desperate evening in Central Park when she hadn't been able to steal some bread. As the cheap drink made its way to her stomach, she felt a bit of warmth spread from her belly outwards, already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
"I never lost all my day's earnings at the tracks," Bumlets declared, and Race and a few others drank.
And so it went on, a kind of whirlwind of statements and swigs of drinks. The more that was said, the more Erin drank, and soon, she was fighting back that stupid smile that always threatens to spread across her face when she's on her way to going from tipsy just plain drunk.
"I never kissed a girl," Mouse said proudly.
"Yeah, well I never kissed a boy," Dutchy countered.
"I never spent a month in Brooklyn one night."
"I've never had to wake up the boys."
"I've never gotten caught making out by old man Kloppman."
"I've never been scared of Spot Conlon."
"You're lying!"
"Am not! If you've been born there and grown up around those kinds of people—"
"Cut it out, fellas, or get out of the room."
"Fine, fine."
"…liar."
"Well, I've never swum before."
"I've never had a tooth knocked out."
"I've never gotten soaked so bad that I couldn't get out of bed the next morning."
"I've never made out with my girlfriend in Central Park."
"You've never had a girlfriend!"
"Mush, Itey, quit it before you start!"
"Boots wears the pants here, eh?"
"We all wear the pants here, Pie Eater."
"Whatever."
"I never made a doily before."
"You're playing dirty!"
"Nope, just playing up my strengths."
"I never licked a belly-button."
"I never had a grape soda."
"I never kissed me brother."
"Ew, Mouse!"
"Long story, Pockie."
"Don't call me that."
"Don't judge me."
It went on and on.
After a while, everyone got pretty bored of the game. There were only so many things you could say that you hadn't done that other people had. As several people left, including Skittery, the antisocial bum, the room seemed emptier and the circle of people got closer. Erin was going on her third beer now, and she was feeling it. It felt damn good, too, and since she didn't feel like she was some kind of rampant Ferris wheel that was trying to throw her off the ride and give her motion sickness or that she was having a bad trip, she didn't stop.
The game switched, fluidly, to Truth or Dare, a Game Night classic. "Mush, truth or dare?" asked Jack, a vicious glint in his eye.
"Uh… truth," Mush said, and probably chose right, because Jack looked to be out to get everyone since he wasn't in the big chair anymore.
"How many girlfriends have ya had?"
Mush frowned a bit and furrowed his brow, looking a little troubled. "I… don't know," he said after a few long moments. "Too many to count?" he asked, and shrugged, obviously not that concerned about the matter. A good bit of the room laughed and Erin grinned a bit, but she felt a kind of sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Liking Mush, obviously, wasn't really a smart move. That boy went through girls like Les went through socks.
Which was like mad.
"Blink, truth or dare?" Mush asked, grinning a bit mischievously.
"Dare," Blink said, confidently. Mush wasn't nearly as devious as Jack, surely.
"I dare you to wear your patch on your right eye tomorrow," Mush said, looking a bit triumphant.
Kid Blink, however, rolled his eye and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, come on, Mush. That's the best you got?" he asked, and he lifted up his patch to see his best friend better. "Like I haven't gotten that one before," he snorted.
"And go see your girlfriend," Mush added, his grin wider, eyes flashing.
All of the rosy color on his cheeks from the booze disappeared as Blink blanched. "What?" he asked, his voice a bit squeaky.
"Yeah, you heard me, Mr I-Got-Stabbed-In-The-Eye-By-A-Raving-Maniac-On-The-Streets."
"Fuck you, man!" Blink shouted.
"Have fun tomorrow!" Mush said, laughing and taking a drink of his beer.
"Forget you. Some friend," Blink muttered, taking quite a large swig of beer. And another. And another. In fact, by the time he had apparently recovered from the thought of Mush's dare, he was done with his bottle and half-way through another. He looked around the room, looking a little bit more than slightly tipsy, now. "You," he said, pointing to Crutchy. "Dare or truth."
Erin couldn't help but to kind of kind of giggle—only newsies didn't giggle, and she was a newsie. So she chortled. Guffawed. Something like that. Anything but giggled. Anyway, she was entertained at least, as she always was when Blink was drunk, because he had a way of swaggering around everywhere and mixing up his words, all with a straight face. He was a silly drunk and a happy drunk, and Erin rather enjoyed his company when he was like that. Except for when he passed out in her lap. Then things were less fun, more awkward, and just weird.
"Ehhhh… dare! Why not, why not?" Crutchy asked. Out of everyone, he seemed to be the most sober. That was the thing about Crutchy. You wouldn't have thought it looking at him, but he was no lightweight. No, sir.
"Kiss her! Ashes!"
"What?" Ashes shouted. She looked a bit panicked, and she looked at Erin, Mouse, Pockets and Crutchy before standing up, looking like she wanted to run away. "No! I mean, no offense, Crutchy, but—but no, Kid Blink!"
"What's a matter? Scared, is ya?" Blink taunted, grinning when she flushed.
"No!" she said, defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Never kissed a man before?" he went on.
The shorter girl sputtered and looked put off, and Crutchy stood up and hobbled between them before anything else could happen between them. It was common knowledge that Ashes liked fire better than she liked people, and people didn't really talk about that much with her.
But Crutchy cupped her face in his hands and leaned in and gave her a small, chaste kiss on her lips, and when he went back to his seat, she looked a little dazed and bewildered, and sat down with a bit of difficulty, plopping down half-way on Erin and half on the floor as if punch drunk.
"Racetrack!" Crutchy declared, seemingly unfazed from the whole ordeal. "Truth or dare?"
"Dare, dare. Always dare," Racetrack said, inspecting his second cigar of the night, probably wondering if he should save it for another time or go all out for Game Night.
"Kiss Patches, that lovely lass," Crutchy said, and Erin gasped, looking over at the gimp, huffing. Not only had he used her useless nickname, but he'd called her a lovely lass and dared her best friend to fucking kiss her!
"Oho, good one, Crutch!" Blink proclaimed, laughing. "Yeah, yeah, and not that peck that Crutchy just gave Ashes. I let him get away with that since we all know Ashes is a wee bit on the special side—"
"Hey!" the pyromaniac in question indignantly huffed, and Blink waved her down.
"—but Patches ain't like that. I wanna see a good thirty seconds of smooching, you kids two."
"You stinkin' pervert!" Erin said, looking at Blink with mild disgust. He had taken it a bit too far.
But Race was never one to back down on a dare, even if it involved other people—like, say, a close lady friend. Never. It was a part of his track record, you could say. "Get over here, get over here," Race said to Erin, gesturing of her to with the hand that was still holding the cigar. At least he hadn't started smoking that one yet. She wasn't very fond of cigars.
Now, Erin had had her fair share of truth or dare smooches, with Skittery, Mush and Kid Blink himself, but never had it been with someone she was actually really, really close with, and never had it been a kind of… serious kiss. At least, that's what she assumed what Blink meant when he said 'a good thirty seconds of smooching'.
But she was fearless… and if Race wasn't backing down, she wouldn't either.
Taking a deep breath and large swig of her beer, then glaring somewhat at Blink and Crutchy, the latter who just grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up, she got up and walked over to where Race was sitting on a stool. He patted his leg and she sat down sideways in his lap, glaring miserably at her so-called One-Eyed Buddy.
Fucking prick.
She turned to look at Race, feeling a little nervous, actually. She hadn't before she had kissed Skittery, and that had been her first kiss. She hadn't before she had kissed Blink, and she hadn't even been really drunk that time. She had, however, before she kissed Mush, because she kind of had a thing for him. But with Race, it was different. It would be like kissing her brother.
But she wouldn't know about that. Apparently Mouse did, though.
She'd have to ask her after this was all said and done.
"You ready?" Race asked, and Erin nodded, setting down her now-emptied bottle of beer. She was feeling a little woozy at this point, and wanted to hurry up and get this done before she passed out or puked everywhere.
She saw him, surrealistically, lean forward in slow motion and for a second she wondered if she had already passed out and she was just having a really weird dream. But then his lips met hers and she was pretty sure that this was real, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it all. She was feeling warm and fuzzy from her buzz and she decided to kind of just go with it. Race had his arms around her so she wouldn't fall over like the drunken slut everyone probably thought she was, but she didn't care what they thought. He was warm and this felt nice and she was seventeen years old, dammit, and old enough to decide what she did and didn't want to do.
And right now, she wanted to kiss her best friend, because he was a damn good kisser and didn't seem to be holding anything back, even if they were as close as siblings and were in public.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand fisted in his smooth hair. Vaguely, she heard cat calls and Boots' signature whistle, but she didn't pay much attention to it. The longer she and Race kissed and the deeper it got, the less weird she felt about it. It was just a kiss. He was just Race. They were friends, not actual siblings. Right? Right. There was nothing wrong with what they were doing.
The rest of the room was counting down and a few seconds after they all shouted 'time's up!', Race pulled away and Erin looked at him, a little dazed and confused.
"Satisfied?" Race asked Blink and Crutchy. Crutchy stood up and clapped loudly, nodding, and a few joined in and Erin reluctantly slid off of Racetrack's lap and made her way back to her seat, but not before taking a bow. Might as well take advantage of the moment.
"Okay, then. Uh… Patches—Erin. Truth or dare?" Race asked. Erin narrowed her eyes at him.
"Truth. I ain't kissin' nobody else today," she said. Blink made a sound of disappointment, and Erin looked at him, disturbed.
"Did you like it?" he asked seriously, looking at her kind of intently. She couldn't look away, even if she wanted to. She felt like this was a challenge. And newsies don't back down from challenges.
"Yep," she said, and then she turned to Bumlets. "Bum, dearest. Truth or dare?" she asked, and Ashes handed her another bottle of beer, even though she shouldn't have it. She drank from it, anyway, avoiding eye contact with Race, and dared Bumlets to chug a whole beer. He did, belched rather loudly, and the game went on, but Erin stopped paying attention. She felt kind of happy and warm and ready to go to sleep, but the last time she had passed out during a game during Game Night, she had woken up with a moustache and monocle painted on her face.
When the game was finally over, Erin was leaning on Ashes' shoulder for support. She was drunk and sleepy and just a bit giddy. When Boots disbanded the group and told them they were free to go, Ashes got up and walked away as fast as she could to go to her bunk, probably where she would try to set the whole damn place on fire in a nervous fit of embarrassment, rage and confusion. She left Erin behind and Erin found it hard to keep herself upright, and was just about to ask Blink for a hand when she felt herself blacking out.
The next morning, someone—Mouse, probably—was trying to be quiet as she got ready for the day, but Erin's ears and head were hypersensitive and every little noise—every little creak in the floorboards and every rustle of her sheets—jolted through her ears and sent off fireworks behind her shut eyelids and made her stomach churn unpleasantly. Managing a groan, she brought a heavy hand up to her face. She recalled drinking a bit too much the night before. But not much more. What did you do to yourself last night, Yates? Christ all-mighty, she thought, wincing when she tried to open her eyes.
"Crazy night, eh?" Pockets asked, and then laughed. To Erin's hungover ears, her laugh was more like a cackle.
"What'd ya do to me, Pockets?" Erin moaned, and rolled over so her face would be planted into her pillow.
"Oh, I did nothin'."
"Bullshit, girl."
"Ya caught me."
Erin felt her stomach churning and after counting to five, jumped out of bed and headed for the toilet, where she emptied her stomach of her dinner from last night. Ashes came and held her hair out of the way and sighed.
"Such a lightweight, Erin. You need a stronger liver."
"I need a stronger stomach."
"This is true," the younger girl allowed, and when Erin was done dying from the inside out, Ashes left and Erin washed her face and brushed her teeth. When she got back to the dorm, she looked around, scratching her ear.
"So… what did happen last night?" she asked, a little embarrassed.
Mouse burst out laughing, much to Erin's chagrin. She winced at the sudden burst of sound. "You mean you can't remember?" she asked, and Erin was a little confused as to why this was so funny. She racked her brains all she could to remember what happened, but she came up with nothing but Mush's inability to count his girlfriends.
Ashes smirked at her and began singing. "Come back my lovey-dovey baby and coochie-coo with me," she taunted, and Erin stared at her blankly.
"It ain't funny, Ash," she huffed, and she plopped on Pockets' feet. "You three gonna tell me what happened?"
"Oh, Patches, I'm shocked and surprised at yeh," Mouse said, sniggering. "You should remember the kiss of your life time."
"What?"
"Patchie, I'm upset that you don't remember."
"Pockets, what the hell are you—"
"You kissed Racetrack!" the three girls said in unison.
Erin blanched. "I did what?" she asked, looking a little worried.
"Oh, you enjoyed it, don't worry," Ashes said, brushing it off, and then Pockets was kind enough to give the blow-by-blow, starting with Blink's dare to Crutchy and ending with Race's question to Erin. She remembered more, and when she remembered the actual kiss, she felt herself blush a bit.
"And then, then you passed out, yeah, and Race just walked over and picked you up and brought you in here and you—Jesus, Patch, I never thought I'd say this, but ya snuggled up in his arms and it was fucking disgustingly adorable," she finished.
Erin blushed harder, and when she spoke, the hardness in her voice was forced. "Pockets, can it. All of you. Can. It. Say nothing."
"Okay, okay."
"Whatever."
"If you say so."
Erin flopped back down onto her bed and curled up, trying to snuggle into what warmth was left in her sheets. She didn't quite know what she thought about the previous night's occurrences. She wasn't even sure if Race would remember it. She wasn't sure how he would act. Or how she would act, for that matter.
But it was Sunday morning and she didn't need to go out and carry the banner today, so she allowed herself to drift back off to sleep, thankful for the thoughtless black abyss that swallowed her up.
A/N: So, here it is. A sequel to 'Of Races and Bets', with just as bad a title. I know the idea of a truth or dare night in general is really cliche in the world of fanfiction, but it was fun to write. And yes, I have girls living in the bottom floor of the lodging house. It's cliche and probably not even correct for the time period, but it makes not only writing this one-shot easier, but Newsies fanfiction in general.
Erin's newsie nickname is Patches. I wanted to make it something about ears, since she eavesdrops without meaning to a lot of the time, but I couldn't think of anything, so I used Patches. Because she doesn't like to spend a lot of her money, she has patches in her trousers and one in her cap. Ergo, the name.
Ashes, Mouse and Pockets are of my own invention, though their names probably aren't the most original ones in the Newsies fandom. I love those three dearly, though, and have plans for them as characters somewhere along the line.
Hope you enjoyed!