A/N: This is my first Newsies fic (actually, my first fic altogether), so
don't kill me if I get some of their personalities wrong, mess up on tiny
details, or if you don't like the accent. This takes place after the movie
************************* Chapter 1: Oh my God
"Come on, ya bum, run faster!" Race was at the tracks. He angrily puffed on his cigar as the horse he had bet on finished fifth. He had blown all the money he'd made selling newspapers that day on that horse, having gotten a 'hot tip from a reliable source'. "Reliable source my ass," Race muttered as he was leaving.
"Better luck next time, Racetrack!" the bookie called to him as he dejectedly walked away.
Instead of going straight to Tibby's, Racetrack leaned against a building on the street corner to mull over his thoughts. He was still busy thinking and puffing his cigar when someone caught his eye. It was a girl that looked about his age. Something about her looked familiar. Racetrack walked over to her.
"Hey, dollface, where ya been all my life?" he said smoothly, walking up to her while stomping out his cigar. Up close, he could see she had very short hair, unusually short for a girl.
Seeing Racetrack, the girl turned white, muttered "shit", and turned to run. Race put a hand out to stop her, saying "Don't go sweetie, I ain't gonna hurt yous." The girl turned her head away from him and buried her face in her hands.
"Come on, goil, I knows I seen you someplace.oh my god." It had finally occurred to Racetrack where he had seen that pout before. "No, no.i-it can't be..Spot Conlon?"
******************************
Now I KNOW I'm gonna get flames from Spot lovers, but the truth is, I'm a Spot/Race lover that wanted to take a different approach on writing a story. So, flame away but I won't continue this story unless I get one reviewer that likes this idea.
Also, I might change this story's title to "Spot, is that you?!" after I post the second chapter, just to let you know
************************* Chapter 1: Oh my God
"Come on, ya bum, run faster!" Race was at the tracks. He angrily puffed on his cigar as the horse he had bet on finished fifth. He had blown all the money he'd made selling newspapers that day on that horse, having gotten a 'hot tip from a reliable source'. "Reliable source my ass," Race muttered as he was leaving.
"Better luck next time, Racetrack!" the bookie called to him as he dejectedly walked away.
Instead of going straight to Tibby's, Racetrack leaned against a building on the street corner to mull over his thoughts. He was still busy thinking and puffing his cigar when someone caught his eye. It was a girl that looked about his age. Something about her looked familiar. Racetrack walked over to her.
"Hey, dollface, where ya been all my life?" he said smoothly, walking up to her while stomping out his cigar. Up close, he could see she had very short hair, unusually short for a girl.
Seeing Racetrack, the girl turned white, muttered "shit", and turned to run. Race put a hand out to stop her, saying "Don't go sweetie, I ain't gonna hurt yous." The girl turned her head away from him and buried her face in her hands.
"Come on, goil, I knows I seen you someplace.oh my god." It had finally occurred to Racetrack where he had seen that pout before. "No, no.i-it can't be..Spot Conlon?"
******************************
Now I KNOW I'm gonna get flames from Spot lovers, but the truth is, I'm a Spot/Race lover that wanted to take a different approach on writing a story. So, flame away but I won't continue this story unless I get one reviewer that likes this idea.
Also, I might change this story's title to "Spot, is that you?!" after I post the second chapter, just to let you know
