Quick note: Okay, no one hurt me for not updating my other stories, I just have a slight case of writer's block. I'll work on them as soon as I'm unblocked. This was just so much fun to write. The chapters will be fairly short, and there won't be very many. Just a brief thing. On with the fic!
Spot flicked his cigarette stub at the ground and blew the rest of the smoke out of his mouth. She hated the taste of smoke. He quickly lit another and held it to his lips, his hands shaking.
It was getting colder and colder as the days went on, but Spot was staying out later and later just to stay away from there. He couldn't take it. He always tried to slip in when he thought she'd be asleep, but as soon as the doorknob twisted, she was right at the door, wanting to hear about his day and where he went and who he talked to and what he did and if he made any good sales and on and on and on...
It was like being married, tied down, a thing Spot Conlon refused to become. He was a wild stallion. No, not a stallion...a lion! Yeah, a lion! He was like a lion, roaming his territory, seeking adventure, meat, and some good lookin' new lionesses. You'd never catch a lion tied down with one bitchy, albeit hot, lioness.
All the newsies had vacated the streets several hours ago, leaving Spot to smoke on his own. He hoped that, if he smoked enough, she wouldn't try to kiss him tonight. He also planned to find a drunk later and take his flask, so he wouldn't have to pay for a drink to make him appear drunk. Something really foul smelling, hopefully, so as to drive her away.
Spot had dumped her a month ago, when she started getting a little possessive. She left his apartment in a huff, slamming doors and screaming obscenities. The next morning, she was at his door, kissing him on the cheek and calling him "honey bear" again. He hated that. When asked, she had absolutely no recollection of their previous argument.
Since that had happened, Spot had come home drunk, on drugs, stinking of smoke, vomit, sewage and any other foul smelling thing he could rub on himself. He'd threatened her, ignored her, insulted her, called her fat and ugly, and cheated on her twenty times in the past two weeks. They'd had more than one fight, but she was always at his side the next day, putting her head on his shoulder, slipping her arm around his waist. He'd find it touching if she wasn't so annoying. Plus, it was sort of a turn off for really pretty girls to see some other girl clinging to his torso. Occasionally, he'd tell girls that she was his mentally handicapped sister when she was out of ear shot, which almost guaranteed that he'd get laid.
A trolley ran by, and Spot checked the time on the clock on the World building. 10:48. The last trolley. Time to make his slow, excruciating way home to Brooklyn. It was a long walk from where he was. He'd been wandering further and further every day. The closer he was to his apartment, the more likely she was to lean out the window and scream at him to come home. Not exactly great for his reputation.
He hadn't managed to pick any pockets for a drink, but he had managed to conveniently trip and fall directly into a large pile of waste. Inhaling the repulsing smell deeply, Spot went happily on his way, knowing his work was done.
Finally, after a long walk, Spot arrived at the rotting door of his apartment. Taking a deep breath, and preparing himself for the worst, he pushed the door open.
"SPOTTYKINS!" A flurry of dress and hair tackled him, sending him sprawling into the door. "YOU'RE HOME!"
"Yes. Yes I am," Spot said, spitting some of her hair out of his mouth.
"I missed you so much!" she cooed, snuggling further into his chest, not bothered by the smell.
"I, uh...missed you, too," Spot lied, gently pushing her off his chest.
"I missed you, too, whaat?" Spot gave a weary sigh.
"I missed you, too...pumpkin," he muttered, moving past her toward the bedroom.
"Where are you going, honey bear?" she cried.
"I'm going to bed. I've had a long day," Spot answered, not turning around.
"But Spotty, you smell all icky! Don't you want to take a bath? I could help you..." she offered seductively. Had it been any other woman, any other woman at all, he would have agreed. But it wasn't any other woman. It was her. Spot stopped and turned to look at her. Her brown hair fell in loose curls over her back and in her face. Her smile stretched from her lips to her sparkly blue eyes. It was no wonder Spot fell for her instantly. She was gorgeous. If only she wasn't a psycho.
"No. Really. I'm fine. I'm going. To bed." Spot walked into the bedroom and shut the door. It was only seconds before...
"Knock knock!" she cooed, opening the door and sitting herself on the bed. "Tell me all about your day while you're getting dressed for bed." Spot paused, hand on his belt buckle.
"You're just going to...sit there and...watch me...undress?" he asked uncertainly.
"Honey bear, it's not like I've never seen you naked before," she said, a devilish grin on her face. "Come on. I want to know exactly what you did."
"I bought my papers, sold all of them but one, and went out with the guys. The end," Spot said quickly, stepping behind the dresser to undress. She giggled, like he'd just told her a joke.
"Oh, Spottykins, you're so cute!" she cried, coming over and wrapping her arms around his waist. He stood like a statue. "Spotty? What's wrong?"
"I...uh...I have to sleep in the other room tonight," he said.
"Why?"
"...I caught a cold!" he lied quickly, coughing unconvincingly. "I wouldn't want you to catch it."
"Awww, poor Spotty! You're so considerate of me. I'll go to pharmacist tomorrow and see if he has anything for your cold." She pinched his cheek like his grandmother and slipped under the covers. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with me tonight? It's going to be cold out..."
"Oh, no, the last thing I want is for you to get sick and die," Spot said, leaving the room as quickly as he could.