A/N: Hey everyone! So this is my first Newsies fic and I'm pretty excited about it, but then again, I'm also pretty nervous. I really wanted it to come out well. I even wrote in Race's accent, but then it got a little hard to read so I cut it down to a few words. But I hope it still works anyway. And hope you all enjoy. It's just a bit of lighthearted fluff that I wrote at, like, one in the morning. And, as always, reviews are mucho appreciated.

Disclaimer: You've heard it a million times. I am not Disney. I do not own Newsies. The end.

The commonest mistake in history is underestimating your opponent; it happens at the poker table all the time. -David Shoup

Two of a Kind

"I'm sorry, Gracie," Racetrack Higgins said to his girlfriend, wringing his cap in his hands anxiously as they both sat on the couch in her family's lavish living room. "But I ain't gunna be able to see you tonight. Me and the guys is gunna have a poker game goin'."

Gracie sighed disappointedly, pulling his cap out of his hand and placing back on her boyfriend's head. He was making her nervous fiddling with it like that. "Race, you and the guys play poker every night."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Race shrugged.

"Well, maybe I want to spend one night with my new boyfriend, instead of only meeting for lunch dates," she said, lightly smaking him on the arm.

Suddenly, however, Gracie's eyes widened in horror. "Lunch dates are for friends. Is that what you're saying? That you just want to be friends?" she asked, her voice getting increasingly higher with each statement.

"Christ, Gracie. Relax would ya?" Race asked, laughed. "You know you is me goil," he continued, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "But you also know that I got a, what's the woid- obligigation- to the newsies. I got a reputation to uphold," he said smoothly.

"Well, can I come then?" Gracie asked, excitement shining in her blue eyes.

Race hesitated. "I dunno…"

She jutted out her bottom lip and looked at him with wide eyes. Classic "puppy-dog" eyes. "Please?"

He took a sudden interest in one of the portraits hanging on the wall. Anything to avoid looking in her eyes and falling in the trap. "You know I hate it when you do that. I can never say no."

"Which is exactly the purpose behind it," Gracie said bluntly, smiling triumphantly.

Race looked back at her. "But what would you wanna watch me play poker for anways? You'd probably be bored."

"Who said anything about watching you?" She asked, raising her left eyebrow at him curiously. "I want to play."

"Oh, does my ears deceive me? I thought you said you wanted to play," the Italian said, no even bothering to try and hold back his laughter for the sake of his girlfriend.

"Your hearing's just fine, Race. You heard me. I want to play," she replied in a dignified tone, not letting his comment offend her.

A cocky smirk played on Race's face. "Look, sweetheart, I'm all for feminine equality and whatnot, but this is crossin' the line. Poker's a man's game."

"You play," Gracie quipped.

He was taken aback, shocked at the quickness of her retort. She was usually a fairly proper girl. "Are you implyin' that I ain't a man?" he asked, still smiling.

She shrugged. "You said it, not me."

"If you is referring' to my shorta-then-normal stature, then I can assure you that I what I lack in height, I make up for in udda ways," he said cockily. "Come here and I'll show ya," he said, pulling her close and wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Race! " she sqeauled, squirming to get out of his grasp. "Gross!"

He let her go. "You think that's gross and you wanna play poker with 15 teenage newsies? Yeah, that's gonna woik," he commented, sarcastically rolling his eyes.

"Oh, come on! Don't you want to show off your new, gorgeous girlfriend and make them all jealous?" Gracie joked, tossing her long, auburn curls.

Race pursed his lips in thought and was silent for a moment. "Now that you say that, it would be nice to see the look on Conlon's mug when he gets a load a' me with you," he remarked, grinning widely at the thought. "Okay, Gracie. Youse in."

"Thank you!" She exclaimed excitedly, placing a quick peck on his cheek. "Now, how do you play?"

Race's eyes widened in horror. "Gracious me. Now ya tellin' me you ain't never played before?" he asked.

Choosing to ignore the double negative embodied in his last statement, she just shrugged. "It can't be that hard, right?"

"Sit down," he said, indicating a small table with a couple of chairs around it toward the back of the room. "I'll run through some hands with ya. Youse should be able to catch on."

When they were both settled in, Race dug deep into his jacket pocket and produced both a deck of cards and a small bag of playing chips. He shuffled the cards in silence while Gracie looked on. Once they were mixed to his satisfaction, he opened the bag that housed the chips and set some aside for himself before handing some over to his girlfriend.

"Foist of all, you gotta take some of these," he said, placing them in front of her. "Here ya go. That'll be enough for you. Shoit stack."

"Oh, you're one to talk!" she exclaimed, offended, knocking the brim of his cap with her hand so that it fell over his eyes.

Adjusting the cap, Race peered at Gracie. "Whaddaya mean?" he asked, very confused.

She crossed her arms in a huff. "Calling me "Short Stack." What are you? 4'10"?" she snapped.

"Again with the height cracks. Gracie, I was just givin' you a small pile a' chips. You know…a shoit stack," he replied patiently.

Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "Oh. Right," she said, avoiding Race's eyes.

"So like I was sayin'… these are for you to start with," he said, pushing the pile of chips closer to her. "And just so you know…I ain't 4'10". I'm 5'3"."

"On your tiptoes, maybe," Gracie whispered under her breath as she piled the chips into one neat, straight stack.

Race's green eyes shot to meet her blue ones. "What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing, Baby-cakes," she replied, smiling innocently.

"Baby-cakes?" he repeated incredulously. "You ain't never called me that before," he said, scratching his head.

"I'm trying it out. You like it?"

Race stroked his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "I'm gonna hafta go with…no."

"I could always call you, 'Muffikins,'" Gracie said, laughing loudly.

His eyebrows furrowed together, a sign he was beginning to get frustrated. "Or you know…me name."

"Okay….Anthony," she said, eyeing him wickedly.

"That ain't me name."

"It's what your mother calls you," she laughed, clearing having a bit of fun at her boyfriend's expense.

"That don't count," he retorted forcefully.

She rolled her eyes. "All right fine. Race," she said, giving in before he really got upset. There was nothing worse than an angry Italian.

Race nodded, satisfied. "Tanks."

"You're no fun, you know that?"

"If I'm no fun then you can loin poker from somebody else," he quipped, taking the opportunity to tease her for a bit after what she just put him through.

It worked. Gracie's eyes grew wide as she began to apologize. She didn't want to jeopardize her poker lessons. "Okay, Okay. I'm sorry. Let's just keep going," she said quickly.

Race crossed his arms stubbornly. "I dunno if I wanna," he said, still teasing her.

She thought for a moment. Suddenly, she smiled and leaned across the table, planting a quick kiss on his cheek ."Now?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

She frowned, but quickly recovered and kissed him softly on the lips. "Now?"

A hint of a smile began to play on Race's lips. However, he wasn't going to let her win that easily. "Maybe," he said.

Gracie knew he was beginning to give a little. And she knew just what to do to get him to give in completely. Still leaning across the table, she took Race's face in both her hands and kissed him long and hard. "How about now?" she said, finally releasing him and smirking when she saw the look on his face. Worked like a charm.

"Keep that up and I can guarantee ya that I definitely won't wanna keep playin' poker," he growled suggestively as he leaned in for another kiss.

She quickly, moved out of the path of Race's lips, causing him to hit the table with a "thud". "Okay. So I have my chips. Now what?" she asked perkily, like nothing had happened.

Pulling himself off the table, he looked at his girlfriend, a bit annoyed, but in the end, he decided to let it go. "Each playa gets five cards," he said, dealing the cards and ignoring the pain that was he was beginning to feel in his chin.

Gracie swept the cards off the table and into her hand. She looked at them for a moment before she announced, "I have a 7 and an 'A' and a-"

"Okay, one: the 'A' is called an ace," Race interrupted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Two: ya ain't supposed to tell the udda playas what ya got."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, a look of realization crossing her face. "I get it now."

Race took the cards out of her hand and put them back in the deck. "Let's try this again," he said, shuffling while reminding himself that she never played before and, therefore, had to remain patient. He could tell that it wasn't going to be an easy task but he thought that if he could suck it up and stick it out, maybe there'd be a reward waiting for him at the end of the lesson. If you know what he means.

He dealt out five more cards to Gracie and himself. She looked at hers and her eyes lit up. "Oooh! I have two "K''s!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Race shot her a "look". She got the message. "Oops. Sorry," she apologized, turning red again. "I got excited."

He let out a long, slow, deep breath. "One more time," he said, forcing a smile on his face and dealing the cards once again.

This time, when Gracie looked at the cards, not only did she not volunteer what cards she had, she also made no indication of whether or not her cards were good.

Race's eyebrow lifted in surprise. It seemed his girlfriend was a natural at the "poker face."

Satisfied, he continued with the lesson. "Okay. Once everyone looks at the cards, you hafta decide whetha or not you wanna play the round."

A look of confusion was plastered on her face. "How do I decide?" she asked.

"It depends on what cards you've got in your hand. If they're good cards, you wanna keep playin', If they're not, you wanna sit out."

"How do I know if they're good or not?"

That was a good question. Race thought for a moment. He wasn't sure how to explain that. Usually he just went with his gut instinct. Also, his friends had terrible poker faces. He read them all like books and then placed his bet accordingly. But for the purpose of teaching Gracie the game, he figured there was only one way to answer her question.

"What are they?" he asked.

Gracie cocked her head, looking at Race suspiciously. "I thought you said not to tell anyone what I have."

"Under noimal circumstances, you don't. But for our poiposes, lemme see what you have," he explained.

Accepting this explanation, she shrugged and turned her cards over, allowing him to look at them. "Hmm. Two tens, a five, an eight and a ace. I would play the hand. Those are good," he told her.

"What makes them good?" she asked curiously.

Race sighed. "Okay, I probably shoulda started with this. The idea of the game is to get either two, three or four of the same card. Or two sets of two of the same card. Or a set of two of the same card and a set of three. That's called a 'full house.' Or five cards in a row, like, two, three, four, five, six. Or five cards of all diamonds, clubs, spades or hearts. Or five cards in a row that's all diamonds. Or clubs. Or spades. Or hearts. And the higha your cards are, the betta. Like the ace. The ace is the highest," he rattled off, barely pausing to take a breath.

"Got it?" he asked.

Gracie looked at him like he had just sprouted an extra head. "No," she said bluntly, shaking her head.

"What's the madda?"

She thought about all that he had just said. It was a lot to remember and all very complicated. But she asked the question that was plaguing her the most. "What on earth is a 'spade?'"

Race stared at her incredulously. Really? That was the question she had?

Reminding himself not to judge her, he replied, "The black shovel-y ones."

She smiled, happy for the explanation. "Okay. Now I'm good," she decided.

"Really?" he asked, trying to mask a doubtful laugh with a cough.

"No," she answered honestly. "But keep going. I'm a quick learner."

"All right, so, if you decide to play the round, you gotta put some money in the pot. The person with the best hand wins the money in the pot when the round is over."

"Why is it called a 'pot'?"

This time, Race couldn't hide his expression of disbelief. "Why are you axing so many questions?" he asked her with a laugh.

"Race! You said you'd teach me to play!" she exclaimed, upset that her boyfriend didn't seem to be taking her seriously.

"Why it's called 'the pot' doesn't have anything to do with loinin' to play."

Gracie stared him down, not saying anything for a moment. Finally, her eyes lit up in realizatino. "You don't know, do you?" she exclaimed gleefully.

It was Race's turn to flush red with embarrassment. She had called his bluff. "It doesn't matter whether or not I know. It ain't got nothin' to do with the game," he said, trying to play it cool.

She could tell she had touched a nerve in his ego. And knowing how fragile the male ego was, she dropped the subject. "Sorry, love. Continue."

Race shrugged that little snafu off and continued, his demeanor as cool as ever. "So as I was sayin' before I was so rudely interrupted by impertinent questions-"

"Nice word," she acknowledged, truly impressed. Race's vocabulary didn't usually include four syllable words.

"It was on Kloppman's woid-of-the-day calendar. I wanted to use it at least one time today. I was gonna drop it durin' the game, impress the fellas, but I figured now was as good a time as any."

Gracie nodded in acknowledgement. That explained it. "I'm impressed."

Race adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, trying not to look to pleased with himself when he really was. "Tanks," he said, attempting to be humble.

She smiled and noticed how adorable he looked when he was acting cocky. Not a lot of guys could pull that off, but Race was definitely an exception.

He looked up and found his girlfriend smiling at him like a lunatic. Slightly embarrassed by the sudden attention, he continued with the lessons. "Now, if you decide you wanna play the hand, you can swap the cards that ain't useful to ya for new ones.

"I can pick what cards I want?" she asked excitedly.

"No, Gracie," he answered, letting out yet another incredulous laugh. With the questions she was asking, he was surprised she even managed to dress herself each morning. "You don't get to pick. That'd be cheatin', The dealer gives you whatever's on top of the deck," he explained patiently.

"Well, can I keep cards up my sleeves like you do in case I need one of them?"

Race's jaw dropped in awe. "Hey! You ain't supposed to know about that!" he exclaimed.

Gracie shrugged. "Well, you should be more discreet when you're placing them there before going to the games," she told him simply.

"You ain't gonna tell any of the fellas about this, are ya?" he asked, staring at her carefully, a nervous waver hinting in his voice.

She smiled. She may be a lady, but she was not above blackmail. "Not if you promise you'll let me play with you tonight."

Race smiled as well. He liked a girl who kept him on his toes. A girl with gumption. And Gracie seemed to have plenty of that.

"All right, all right. I promise," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "But we gotta keep goin' with the lessons. I don't want you embarrassin' me in front of everyone."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Race," she quipped, not really offended.

"You can't blame me for sayin' that you ain't exactly takin' to poker like a natural," he said, unafraid to tell it like it was. "Not that it's anything to be ashamed of or nothin'. You can't take it poisonally. Poker's a tough game. Not everyone can handle it," he said with a smug smirk, patting her on the hand in mock sympathy.

She jerked her hand out from underneath his. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that myself?" she said, her voice oozing with confidence. "Let's try a couple of practice rounds."

Race raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" he asked in a tone that told her he, personally, wasn't sure.

"I guess there's only one way to find out. Deal me in."

And he did just that. Looking at her cards, Gracie tried not to give any indication of what kind of cards she had in her hand. She could only hope that she was trying hard enough.

"I wanna bet," she said coolly, looking up from her cards with a stoic expression.

Race smirked. He was impressed with the sudden turn she was taking. One second she was asking what a "spade" was, and the next, she was acting like she had been playing for years. He found it quite amusing.

"Okay. Like I says before, you place your bet by putting the chips in the pot. Each chip represents a penny."

Gracie slid two chips to the middle of the table, as did Race, each of them eyeing the other suspiciously, unable to read each other.

"How many cards you need?" he asked, continuing the game.

"Two."

"All right. I needs three."

After they each exchanged their old cards for new ones, Race continued. "Now, you gotta decide if you wanna up the bet. If you do, each playa who still wants in, has to match your bet."

Gracie nodded in understanding and slid three more chips into the pot.

Race let out a long whistle. "My, my. High rollin' today, are we, Gracie?" he asked, impressed.

She shrugged. "I think I have good cards," was her simple reply.

"You're aware that I, too, may also have good cards, right?" he asked, teasing her.

"Yes, I am very aware of that fact," she answered, giving back what Race was dishing out.

"All right then," he said, still in a joking manner. "I just don't wanna see you losin' all your money."

"Let me worry about that," she said confidently. "Lay down the cards, Higgins."

Race laughed at the use of his last name. It's like she was becoming one of the guys. "Three sevens. Beat that, Westcott," he smirked triumphantly, emphasizing her last name.

"I have three fives."

"Ha!" he exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table, causing the chips to bounce. "I win then. Sevens trump fives. Better luck next time, Baby Doll," he said, mocking her.

"Oh, Sweetie," Gracie said, like she was talking to a small child. "You didn't let me finish. I have three fives…" she said, laying them down. "…and two nines,' she finished, putting them down as well.

Race stared at her cards slack-jawed. "A full freakin' house?!" he exclaimed loudly. "How did you do that?!" he asked, looking at his girlfriend in complete disbelief.

"Beginner's luck?" she said with a slight laugh.

On the outside, Race was trying to keep it together. But on the inside, he was fuming. How dare she, someone who had never played before, beat him, the champion of the Newsboys Lodging House? It just wasn't right.

He couldn't let her get away with that. "Another round?" he asked, trying to remain calm.

"You're on," she replied, smirking.

Gracie's beginner's luck seemed to last much longer than the normal period. Hand after hand, she won, leaving Race more and more confused.

After at least twenty rounds, she asked, "Race, are you letting me win?"

Race was a mess. He had discarded both his jacket and his cap and was currently running his fingers through his hair, repeatedly shaking his head in disbelief. "That's the thing. I ain't. I just don't understand it. You've never played before today. I'm getting my butt beat by a goil and I'm losing my money. This just ain't my day," he lamented, just staring at the large pile of chips Gracie had accumulated through the afternoon.

Gracie bit her lip nervously. "Hey, Race? Did I ever tell you how my father made all his money?" she asked, her tone hesitant.

"Now's not the time, Gracie," he said, waving her off. "I gotta figure out what's wrong with my game before the fellas rip me to shreds tonight."

She continued anyway. "My father was quite the regular at the Vegas casinos."

After a moment or two, Race slowly lifted his eyes from her chips to her eyes. "Wait a minute. Are you tellin' me that-" he began, his eyes widening in realization.

"I've been playing poker ever since I can remember. He taught me everything he knew."

Race jumped up from his seat. "You tricked me!"

"Aww, Race. I'm sorry," Gracie said, trying to apologize genuinely, but unable to keep herself from laughing. "But I just couldn't resist. You should have seen the look on your face when I kept beating you."

He sat back down at looked at her as if he was in a daze. "Well, don't I feel like a bumma. You fooled me good. I thought you had no idea what you was doin'."

"I used to trick people all the time. It's an easy way to make some quick cash."

Race nodded, taking in all this new information. "Hey-" he began, an evil smiling coming across his face. do ya think you could keep up that act tonight?"

Gracie, seeing the look he had and realizing where he was headed, eyed him wickedly. "I doubt that it would be a problem."

He got up from his seat, went over to her and pulled her back toward him so that she ended up sitting in his hap. "I have a feelin' that you and me are goin' to make quite the team, Miss Gracie." he said.

She laughed, practically seeing the cash signs in his eyes. "You know, Race. I have a feeling that you're right."

"We'll be like two of a kind."

Gracie wrapped her arms around Race's neck and leaned in to give him a deep kiss. Pulling back, she looked him dead in the eyes, her own eyes twinkling, and said, "Yeah. And tonight, two of a kind is going to beat everything."