Author's Note: Greetings and salutations! I don't really know what to say about this story. It's some more Race and Romeo fluff, as requested by ValandMarcelle and Guest. (Thanks for that, by the way!) I hope you enjoy it, and reviews and prompts are much appreciated! Thank you for reading!
A silence hung over the normally-chaotic room as Romeo sat hunched over on a bunk, twiddling his thumbs as Race walked over with a bag of ice. Still silent, Race pressed the bag of ice to Romeo's eye, which was swollen and bruised.
After a moment, Race sighed and broke the quiet. "Romeo?"
Romeo glanced up at him. "Yeah?"
"You'se an idiot." Race deadpanned, looking Romeo straight in his good eye.
Romeo scoffed. "Says the one who was gettin' soaked by the Delancey's but said 'I'se fine!'"
"I still ain't as big of an idiot as you," Race shot back. "I coulda handled it."
"Anyone with half a brain coulda seen you'se was not fine," Romeo argued.
Race sighed again. "Hold this," He said, motioning towards the ice pack.
Romeo raised his right arm and hissed with pain.
"Not that arm, ya nitwit!" Race exclaimed."Hold it with the one that ain't broken!"
"My arm ain't broken," Romeo grumbled, but his voice trembled from the pain. He set his right arm down gently and held the ice bag with his left one.
"Right, it ain't broken," Race rolled his eyes.
Jack rushed into the room then, his hat askew and his face creased with worry."There you guys are!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air angrily. "Where the hell did ya go? We'se been lookin' all ove- woah." The reprimanding speil that was about to spew out stopped abrubtly when his eyes landed on Romeo, whose pout seemed to get poutier upon Jack's reaction. Jack took in the youngest boy's injuries for a moment before he softly asked, "What happened?"
"This one here decided it'd be a wise idea to take on the Delancey's." Race answered before Romeo could even open his mouth.
Romeo frowned at Race. "Yeah, only 'cause you'se was gonna pass out!" He said defensively.
"I wasn't gonna pass out!" Race fired back. "You're bein' over-dramatic."
"No, I ain't!" Romeo exclaimed. He looked at Jack and said, "They was soakin' him real good, Jack. He ain't tellin' the full story."
"Well, yeah, look who really got soaked!" Race responded, almost shouting. "Look who really did pass out!"
"Okay, okay, calm down, both of ya!" Jack cut in, putting his hands up to shush them. "Now, can either of ya give a real answer without yellin' at the other guy?"
The room fell silent once more. Race and Romeo glared at each other, each prompting the other to go ahead by trading annoyed stares. "I got a busted-up lip," Race said after a very awkward silence. "You tell it."
"Well, I was knocked out most of the time," Romeo countered quietly. "You tell it."
"Fine," Race sighed, suddenly feeling very compelled to stick his tounge out at Romeo, but deciding against it. He glanced at Jack and began, "Well, you know me, I said somethin' stupid and the Delancey's decided it was an excuse to soak me. And, even though I had it under control-"
Romeo opened his mouth to argue, but Jack shushed him.
"This kid," Race continued, jabbing his thumb towards Romeo. "Had to come in and save me or somethin'. I told him to stop and I tried to break it up, but he still got soaked real bad. And, them dumb Delancey's didn't stop 'til the kid passed out. Of course, I didn't know if he was okay, so I took him back here and waited for him to come to."
"Wow," Jack replied, looking from Race to Romeo and back. Finally, his gaze settled on Romeo and he asked, "You took on the Delancey's?"
Romeo shrugged. "I wasn't just gonna watch 'em beat up Race." He muttered.
Race sighed, looking at Romeo's badly bruised arm that rested on his lap at an awkward angle. "We got anything to wrap his arm?" Race asked.
Jack nodded. "We should have gauze or somethin' somewheres. Lemme go ask Kloppman."
With that, he headed out of the room. Race turned back towards Romeo and nodded towards the younger boy's right arm, silently asking permission to touch it. Romeo nodded back, and Race gingerly picked up his arm. Romeo cringed and winced immediately.
"Tell me if it hurts," Race said as examined it.
"It hurts!" Romeo snapped, sucking in a sharp breath.
"You still think it ain't broken?" Race asked with a slight chuckle.
"Set it down!" Romeo whimpered, his voice cracking.
Face falling, Race softly let go of Romeo's arm. Another brief but heavy silence filled the air. "That bad, huh?"
Romeo nodded meekly, refusing to look Race in the eye.
"Well, we'll getcha all wrapped up and good, alright?" Race said, his voice softer than before.
Romeo nodded again. "Thanks," He mumbled.
Race gave Romeo a worried look. "I bet your head hurts, too, after all that."
"Yeah," The younger boy admitted. "It's kinda throbbin'."
Race bit his lip, then let go immeadietly upon remembering that it had been opened during the fight. He rubbed his lip and said, "Get some rest, kid. That'll help your head."
Romeo nodded, laying down on his cot.
"And, hey, Romeo?" Race added.
Romeo looked at Race from the corner of his eye. "Yeah?"
"Thanks," Race said finally. "For helpin' me out there."
"It's about time ya said it," Romeo chuckled. "I mean, I'se been conscious for a whole hour now!" He joked.
"Ah, shut up," Race smirked.
"Woah, woah, woah. Just what do ya think you're doin'?"
Those were the words Race used to greet his brother the next morning when he'd spotted the far-from-recovered Romeo slowly making his way out of bed.
Romeo looked over at Race with a face that was both startled and annoyed. "I'm goin' to the moon," Romeo responded sarcastically. "What do ya think I'm doin'?"
"It looks to me like you're goin' out and sellin' papes with a broken arm, a black eye, and who knows what else the Delancey's gave you," Race frowned, taking a step away from his own bunk and towards Romeo's.
"Well, that is my job," Romeo said slowly, as if he were explaining something to a three-year-old. "And, how many times do I have to tell ya? My arm ain't broken."
"Uh-huh, right," Race scoffed. "You look horrible, Romeo. You ain't sellin' papes today after what happened yesterday."
Romeo had to admit that the older boy was right. He'd hardly recognized his own reflection the night before, when his wounds were still fresh. His left eye was almost swelled shut, while black and blue marks simply covered him from head to toe. He knew that if Race, or any of his other Newsie brothers for that matter, had looked like that, he certainly wouldn't want them out selling. But, the small collection of coins in his pocket wasn't enough to scrape by that day if he wanted to pay for both Lodging House and at least one good meal. "I have to, Race," Romeo sighed. "How do ya expect me to make any money? Besides," He forced a smirk and motioned to his eye with his good arm. "I bet all this'll help me sell even more papes. Them Delancey's didn't know they was helpin' me."
"Nuh-uh," Race strode over to Romeo and forced him back into his bed. "You ain't goin' out today."
A look pf defiance crossed Romeo's face as he stood back up. "Well, how do you suggest makin' money then?"
"I'll sell your papes, ya numbskull," Race replied simply, pushing Romeo back onto his bed. "I'll buy double the papes and give you half of my profits. Duh."
"Race, that's crazy," Romeo scoffed. "You can't sell all those papes."
"Are you'se challengin' me, Romeo?" Race asked, raising an eyebrow as his signature smirk appeared on his face. "I'm takin' that as challenge."
"It ain't a challenge!" Romeo responded angrily. He stood up once more and continued, "Look, I'se fine. You don't have to do that. I can sell my own papes."
"Oh, really?" Race asked, his smirk falling away. "Walk across the room, then."
Romeo stared Race straight in the eye. "Fine." He crossed his arms. "That's easy." He began to make his way across the room, but he didn't make it far before stopping and gripping one of the bed frames, sucking in a sharp breath.
Race rushed to the younger boy's side."You okay?"
Romeo tensed up. "Fine."
Race shook his head. "This ain't what I'd call fine," He remarked, placing a hand in Romeo's shoulder. "Ya need to recover. They soaked you bad, Rome."
Romeo shook his head. "So, it hurts a bit?" He said, his voice shaking. "I can handle it."
"Romeo," Race looked at Romeo sharply.
Romeo let out a defeated breath and finally let his guard down. "It hurts, Race," He admitted, his voice trembling. "It hurts bad."
"I know, it does," Race said, helping Romeo back to his bed. "You just rest here. I'll sell your papes and be back before ya know it."
"So, what do I do while I wait?" Romeo questioned, his voice still weak as he setled into his bed. "Stare at the ceilin'?"
"Not my problem," Race shrugged. "As long as you ain't sellin' papes."
Romeo sighed. "Fine."
Romeo was incredibly bored. He couldn't sit still, even though it hurt to move. He kept changing sitting positions, standing up, sitting down. He took one of Specs' books and flipped through it, but he didn't know most of the words, so he eventually resolved to making up most of the story himself. He snooped into some of Jack's drawings, and tried to make one himself, but he eventually got bored with that, too. (He also got kind of nervous that Jack might figure out he'd touched his drawings. Jack hated when people touched his drawings.) Romeo moved Race's cigars, hoping to find some entertainment when Race eventually went looking for them. He'd probably end up blaming Mush or Albert, which would prove to be amusing.
But, he was still in a lot of pain. For the most part, it was just a constant dull ache, but every now and then, a wave of hot, stabbing pain washed over him, making every ounce of strength he had left melt away. Not only did it hurt, but it made Romeo feel defenseless. Weak. He hated that feeling with every fiber of his being.
Meanwhile, Race had bought 100 papes, double what he normally got. He sold with Mush, and the two of them seemed to make their way to every selling spot in Manhattan. It was all exhausting, but the image of Romeo in the condition he was in kept Race determined to sell them all.
He couldn't shake the memory of that kid running into the alley, furiously pushing his way into the fight and throwing his fists in the Delancey's faces as Race shouted for him to stop. Of course, Romeo blatantly ignored Race, standing his ground until both his knees and his consciousness gave out. The minute Oscar and Morris figured out that they'd knocked this boy out, and that they boy looked like he couldn't be a day over thirteen, they scrambled out of the alley as a livid Race cried after them, "Get back here, you damn cowards! You'se is gonna pay for this!"
"Race,"
Mush's voice snapped Race out of his memories. "Yeah, Mush?" He asked distractedly.
"It's past lunchtime," Mush said, looking at his friend with concern. "Ya think maybe we should stop at Jacobi's and get a bit to eat? We'se probably sold enough to get a few sandwiches now."
Race glanced at his bag and sighed. "Maybe you could grab somethin' for me. I'se gotta sell more for Romeo."
"You looks beat, though," Mush argued. "Why don't ya take a break?"
Race counted his money and reluctantly agreed to take a lunch break. He picked up a sandwich for Romeo, too, and after scarfing down his own, he stopped back at the Lodging House to give it to him, feeling absolutely wiped out. When he walked in, he found Romeo fast asleep. Race paused, unsure whether to let him sleep or wake him up. He certainly needed the rest.
"Race, ya don't have to stand there like an idiot," Romeo mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed, but a smirk had appeared on his face. "I'se up."
"Did I wake you up?" Race asked, concerned.
"I dunno," Romeo responded, sitting up and rubbing his eyes groggily. "I'se been up and down. What're ya doin' here?"
"Boom," Was all Race said in response, dropping the sandwich in Romeo's lap.
"Ooh," Romeo grinned, picking up the sandwich. He took a large bite and, through a full mouth, said, "Dat's goob."
"Goob?" Race chuckled, plopping himself down next to Romeo.
Romeo swallowed. "Good. You know what I meant."
"Yeah," Race chuckled. "I'm doin' pretty goob myself."
Romeo shoved Race jokingly. "Shut up. And, thanks for the sandwich."
"Hey, that ain't all!" Race grinned. He pulled a few coins out of his pocket and dropped them in Romeo's lap, too. "Boom again."
Romeo looked at the coins incredulously. "Ya made all this?"
"You bet," Race smirked. "Well, me and Mush. Next time anyone says Jack's the best seller in Manhattan, show 'em that."
"Wow," Romeo counted the coins. "Thanks, Race."
"Least I could do after you saved my butt yesterday," Race shrugged. Then, he paused. "Why did you do that?"
"Do what?" Romeo asked.
"You know," Race sighed. "Swoop in and take on the Delancey's."
"Well, I didn't like seein' 'em mess with ya," Romeo answered. "They'se jerks, and I ain't gonna stand for that."
Race smiled. "You'se a tough kid."
Romeo beamed back, feeling pride swell up inside him. "I learned from the toughest."
"You'se also an idiot," Race added. "Don't do that again."
"I can't make any promises," Romeo smirked.
Race chuckled and stood up. "Well, I gotta go sell some more papes."
"Oh, come on," Romeo groaned. "You'se already sold, like, a million. I'm bored. Stay here and play cards with me or somethin'."
Race grinned and sat back down. "Well, I guess I could afford to play one game of War. And beat you, of course."
"Oh, yeah, right," Romeo rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna win for sure."
Race smirked. "We'll see about that, kid." He hopped up and grabbed a deck of cards off of Specs' bunk. "He won't miss these." Race shrugged, and sat cross-legged across from Romeo.
Eventually, the boys ended up playing at least six games, each trying to break the on-going tie. After a while, though, Romeo nodded off in the middle of a game.
Race smirked. "Oh, come on, he coulda at least stayed awake for me to win." He muttered.
Race lept up and threw a blanket over Romeo's sleeping form. He was about to walk away when he heard a half-awake Romeo murmur from behind him, "Jus' sayin, I woulda won."
"Okay, someone fess up!" Race shouted the next morning. "Albert, I know you took 'em!"
"I swear, it wasn't me!" Albert exclaimed. "I didn't touch your cigars!"
Crutchie hobbled up to Romeo, who was watching the scene with a mischievous grin on his face, and whispered, "When are ya gonna tell him they're under your pillow?"
Romeo, who was still bruised but felt a great deal better, glanced at Crutchie and smirked. "Let it last a little longer."
The two boys watched as Race now chased Albert, still yelling about his cigars. Chaos had officially been returned to the Lodging House.
