A/N: I seriously like this one. I think it's cute. I think that after this I'm gonna put in one shots as I write them, but I really find that I'm bad at keeping a time table, so as I feel like it I'll update. Anyways. I don't own anything except a small cameo from an OC but more on him later.
Snow and Independece
One of the most annoying things in the world was when Specs worried over him. It absolutely infuriated him. Sometimes, it couldn't be helped, like when ice lined the sidewalks one inch thick, and the boys weren't able to scrape a path for the crutch and he had to be carried on his back, or when his back was really hurting him, and Specs had to work all of the knots out, and even then he was pissy about it. But he accepted that there were some things that he just couldn't do. The thing that really made him mad was when it was completely unnecessary. Specs, by nature, was a nurturer. He liked to take care of people. He often took charge as nurse when one of the boys was sick, he cooked every meal that he could, and he made sure that everyone had shoes on their feet and shirts on their backs, even loaning his own shoes to Jack once, who stumbled around all day and took note of how large Specs' feet were. His heart was a thick as his glasses and as big as his shoes. He had to take care of people. Crutchie was often the recipient of this care, as most would concider his leg a complete incovinience to both himself and the boys. Of course none of them thought that. It wasn't that Cructhie did anything less afficiently than them, just that he did it differently.
Never the less, he was worried over by everyone, especially the Mother Hen. Though not an inconvenience, his leg was a liability, a risk to his own health, and that was a problem. Crutchie was just too precious. It was so rare, the little light that he shed on the lodging house, that if anything were to happen to that light, if someone were to blow it out or cover it up, they all feared they would never regain it. Unlike the rest of them, he preserved the childlike wonder that one only keeps until they're about ten. Of course they weren't going to risk anything. So, Specs was tasked with taking care of him. Crutchie was grateful for the helping hand, of course, and he always thanked Specs no matter how pissed off he was. Sometimes it was after he had calmed down, sometimes it was imediently, and sometimes it was after some crisis or another had passed, but he always said thank you. Until the winter after the strike. Winters were always hard on him, what with the ice and how stiff his leg got. He always seemed to be cared for more in the winter. On one particular snowy evening, though, it was too much.
Papes were hard to sell on snow days, but the limp sold them just the same, though he would like to claim it was his personality. He was in before most of the others, except Specs. Specs had one of those smiles, the kind that spreads like butter and is contagious to the bone. The kind that is sheepishly charming and really very nice to look at, and it wasn't a half-assed smile, either. Every smile was from ear to ear. So his papes sold as fast as Crutchie's. The minute that he entered the door and stamped his boot, Specs was there, taking his thin jacket and brushing his hat clear of snow.
"Tanks, Specs," Cructhie shivered as he limped over to his bunk slowly to grab a blanket.
"Let me get that for ya, Crutch." Specs offered and ran to Crutchie's bunk before he could protest.
"Well tanks again, but I could 'a gotten it, I was 'af way there." Crutchie laughed as he sat on one of the small chairs infront of the fire.
"Yeah but, I jus' don't want ya to strain ya leg, is all. Tain't nothin'." Specs answered as he joined his younger at the fire. He warmed his hands absentmindedly as he sent sideways glances to Crutchie's leg, which was twitching slightly from the cold and tightness. "'ows the leg?" He asked. "'Sal right. Could be better, but you knows what the cold does. I lived last winta I can do it again." Crutchie replied enthusiastically. A few more boys were fileing in now. Romeo, Racetrack, and Buttons all came in stamping out of the cold. Specs waved, and threw a few more twigs into the fire. The boys joined them and warmed their stiff fingers. Crutchie was very relieved that Romeo had shown up when he did, as he and Specs were very close. Maybe if Specs was distracted, he would leave him alone.
It worked for a little while, that was, until he stood to retrieve his jurnal and write about the snow. Specs looked up from his conversation to the boy before him. "Whatcha need, Cructh?" He asked, eyes filled with the urge to help. Crutchie smiled and shook his head, limping over to his bunk to grab what he needed.
"Nothin' I can't handle, I promise." He answered as he waved the jurnal and pencil before Specs. "See, don't even throw me off balance." He joked. Specs smiled and continued his conversation with Romeo as Crutchie sat down on the floor, as Buttons had taken his seat. Specs looked up and frowned at Racetrack's best friend. "'Ey, Buttons, let Crutchie sit, you know what tha cold does to 'is leg." Specs scolded. Buttons looked down at Cructhie and the back to Specs before apologizing and moving so that Cructhie could sit.
"No, it ain't a problem." Crutchie protested. This was really beginning to bug him. What, did Specs think he couldn't take care of himself for something? "Besides, I really needed to stretch it out anyway, so don't worry 'bout it." He assured. Buttons sat back down and ruffled Crutchie's hair.
"Cructhie, ya shouldn't get down on tha floor like that, ya might not be able ta get back up." Specs pointed out with an air of motherly authority.
"Tanks,Ma, I'll remember that." Crutchie replied sarcastically. "What's up with you taday? Ya think I can't take care of myself?" Crutchie was obviously annoyed now, and Specs backed off a bit.
"'Course not, kid, youse as tough as nails, just don't want ya hurtin' yaself is all." Specs answered. Crutchie rolled his eyes and went back to writing, detailing how white
The snow was against the gray New York Buildings. He was left alone for most of the night. After the rest of the boys came in, he got a few pats on the sholder and Jack offered to rub his leg. He declined and continued writing, and Jack knew he was pissed because Cructhie loved leg rubs. He left it though, because he knew from expirience that prying something out of Crutchie Morris ended in blood shed. Namely, a crutch to the head.
As everyone filed to bed that night, Crutchie was a bit late, as he wanted to finish writing. Jack stayed with him and sketched the writer at work and few times before drawing the fire and one of the newest boys, Salty. Finally, Cructhie announced that he was finished and Jack wanted to read it, but Crutchie said he'd had to do it in the morning because it was late and they were getting up damn early. They stood and headed for the ladder. Specs, being the mother, never went to bed until the rest of the boys had. He watched from the window as Jack climbed up and took the crutch that was offered. Specs stood and jogged over just as Cructhie was about to head up. "You needs some help?" He asked. Crutchie rested his head on the railing for a moment before turning around.
"No, Specs, I do not need any help." He half yelled. A few of the boys' heads popped up from their bunks to look at the spectical. "Has it eva occurred to you that I actually survived for five years with this damn thing before I 'ad you ta baby me? Or that I climb this ladda every day? I ain't no kid, Specs, and I sure as hell ain't no handicap. I don't need ya to carry me everywhere or get blankets for me or make sure that I gots a place to sit. The only reason you ain't gots a crutch-sized bruise on ya head is because Jack's got it, but 'e might do tha deed 'imself. Please treat me like I can actually function. Good night." With that, Crutchie effortlessly climbed the ladder and the flight of stairs after that that lead to the penthouse.
Specs stared after the fifteen-year-old and sort of felt like crying and sort of felt like laughing. On one hand he felt awful for treating Cructhie like a kid, on the other, he just got chewed out by a person two years and a foot smaller than him. The kid had lived on the street for three years before Jack brought him in, and in poverty before that. He never had a father, and his mother had polio like him. He did every bit of work around the house and in the factories before he lost his leg, and even after. He had supported himself since he was six. And it hit him how tough Crutchie really was. He wasn't a complete wide-eyed optimist. He was a real wise guy, tough as nails, and scared him more than the Delancys. Specs had no right to treat him like he couldn't do anything. And he wasn't a handicap. No matter what the doctors said. Because he wasn't less capable. If anything he was more equipped.
In the end, Specs decided on a sad smiled, and went to bed.
Damn. What a kid.
A/N: so, as you guys may have noticed, the new newsie that Jack was sketching was Salty, my OC. I don't really like writing OCs, but I might for him if I can flesh out a personality. It kind of depends. I feel like he'd be the really grumpy kid who doesn't want to talk to anyone but ends up be everyone's favorite to talk to. I don't know. He'll show up again at some point. Anyway, tell me if you liked it, and I have an idea for a collage au that involves Chinese food and condoms. So yeah. This is going to be interesting. Anyway, let me know what you thought. Thanks!