Disclaimer: Can I borrow the newsies, just for a day? I personally think Disney should start a 'rent a newsie' service, but since when does Disney listen to me.
AN: This was originally a song fic to Brian McKnight's '6, 8, 12' but ffn is cracking down on song lyrics so I replaced any lyrics with italicized one. Just in case that will get you a little better feel for the story
Fireworks
By Hotshot
Specs walked past the large window, which opened into his favorite place to eat. Charlie's made the undisputed best pizza in New York, Windchester anyway. He glanced inside to see how busy it was, and luckily the evening rush was over. He walked inside and approached the counter, which was questionably empty.
"Hello," he called over, "Anyone back there?"
Out of nowhere a shorter black haired boy popped up in front of him. The boy's shaggy black hair fell across his face as he stood up and he quickly wiped it out of his face. Meanwhile Specs had jumped about a foot and a half back in shock.
"Hey Specs," The black haired boy placed a plate containing two large slices of pizza onto the counter. "There's your dinner."
"Jesus, scare a guy to death why don't you Bumlets," He glared at his friend, "How'd you know?"
"Specs, you are in here without fail at nine every night after you get out of work. Seriously man, why do you offer to close every night?"
Specs shrugged, pulling a few bills out of his pocket and placing them on the counter. As Bumlets dug out his change he spoke, "I just don't have anything else to do lately." He quickly changed the subject, "So what time do you get off tonight?"
"In about an hour." Bumlets grinned suddenly, "Pie and I are going to the carnival down at the common. You should come."
Specs shook his head and took a bite of his pizza, "I ain't gonna be no third wheel."
"You won't be."
Specs raised an eyebrow, "You know I would."
"Still pining over Dutchy I take it, c'mon man, how longs it been since you two broke up?"
Six months, eight days, and…" He looked down at his watch, "nine hours." He heard a loud laugh behind him and turned to find several people entering the small restaurant. Dutchy was among them, Skittery's arm around his shoulders. "I'll take this one to go, later Bumlets." He turned and strode past the group, receiving a hateful look from Skittery.
Dutchy looked over his shoulder as Specs left and was about to call out a greeting when Skittery nudged him, "So what d'you want, my treat."
"I'm home," Specs called entering the apartment he and his mother lived in. He knew no one would be around to answer him. She had only left with her latest boyfriend a week or so before so he didn't expect her back for a few months. It was the way he liked it. He was free to work, and drive wherever he pleased, but it would have been nice to have her there for once. Her seventeen-year-old son's heart was being torn out of his chest and she didn't even care to stick around. He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it over a chair before walking into his room and collapsing on his bed, fighting off the threatening tears.
1
Specs lay in bed the sheets strewn around haphazardly as he stared at the ceiling. He should have been asleep but it was impossible to do so. He'd slept a little but woken up over an hour ago; now sleep seemed impossible. He looked instead to the spackled ceiling, hoping that the endless scratches and designs would solve all of his problems. His mind was on the only one he could remember caring about in his insignificant life, the only one who made him feel wanted, Dutchy.
His mother had told him that he often mumbled that name in his sleep; it was more of a complaint really. He knew for a fact that he'd mumbled it as he woke that night. He hadn't moved in over an hour trying to ward off the memories.
Specs flipped himself up to a sitting position, his feet firmly planted on the floor by his bed. Memories were racing around his mind. The day they met, their first date, first kiss, first dance; boy Dutchy could dance. The day they broke up. He breathed harder as his mind raced. Every night he relived the wonderful memories and their tragic end. He looked over to the bedside table, placing his glasses on his face. The numbers on the digital clock became sharper. 12:00. Six months, eight days, twelve hours.
He cast a glance over the picture frame on the table. It held a large picture, him and Dutchy. It was his favorite. Dutchy had cornered him during study hall on the first day of school and laid his best scorcher on him. Sure, it had gotten them both a detention, but it had definitely been worth it. It was his favorite because it reminded him so much of Dutchy, always spontaneous and not afraid of anything. He was wonderfully funny and outgoing. There was another series of pictures, from one of those machines at the mall with them laughing and posing.
1
He suddenly couldn't take it anymore and threw on a light blue shirt along with the jeans he'd fallen asleep in. He forced his feet into the old worn out sneakers he always wore. He had to get out of the house and away from all the memories he decided; maybe he would catch up with Bumlets and Pie Eater at the carnival after all. He pushed the picture face down so he wouldn't have to look at it when he returned.
As he swept through the living room he scooped up his old and faded jean jacket, and pulled it on as he walked out the door. He started the car and gunned the engine, squealing the tires as he flew down the road.
Five minutes later he pulled into the parking lot behind the elementary school, and climbed out. He locked the car and walked out to the sidewalk. He glanced to his left and then to his right to check for approaching cars. As his head turned right he thought he caught sight of the blond boy next to him, a face that's every detail he knew by heart. He shook his head and looked again and looked, nothing was there. It must have just been the fog from the smoke machines playing a trick on him.
He shook his head again to clear any lingering cobwebs. He ran a hand through his wavy chestnut hair and walked quickly across the street and onto the fairgrounds. It was empty of all except the workers and older teens of the town. The jovial music, however, did little to lift his spirits. His thoughts again turned to Dutchy…
1
Dutchy sat in his living room with Skittery, Snoddy, and Swifty. His parents were out for the week so Dutchy pretty much had the large mansion to himself. It was nice to have someone visiting, although if his parents called again he was screwed. The four that were there could never keep quiet, and to his parents four other guys meant there was a party and they were all getting stoned or drunk. Even though that had only happened once, and that was with Jack and Spot. His overprotective parents were scheduled to call again at least once before midnight.
"We should have invited Specs to have dinner with us," Dutchy mused out loud, "I mean he looked so depr-"
"Dutchy you broke up with him like five months ago," Snoddy looked at him.
"Six months, eight days, and-"
"Don't finish that sentence Dutchy," Skittery caught his gaze, "he doesn't matter anymore. You've got us now. I mean you are the one that broke it off; shouldn't you be over him by now."
"Oh, I am," Dutchy didn't know what he'd been thinking, "But I mean he is one of my friends."
"Dutchy, you can't be friends with him after you two broke up like that," Skittery snapped, "I… you just can't."
"Sorry to interrupt you two's squabble, but we better get over to the carnival," Swifty commented standing, "It should be starting to empty out about now."
Snoddy stood up and took his boyfriend's hand.
"Sure," Skittery said. He put a hand on Dutchy's shoulder, "C'mon."
"You guys go ahead," Dutchy said, "I think I'm gonna stay here tonight. My parents, you know, they'll have the police out looking for me if I ain't here when they call."
"Ok," Skittery said. He looked a bit hurt, "Call my cell if you change your mind."
It was nearly an hour later, close to midnight, when the phone rang. Dutchy glanced from his chair at the caller ID. It was broken so the name was delayed in coming up. All he saw was the S. He gasped and quickly picked up the phone, "Specs."
"No Dutchy, it's me," Skittery sounded slightly angry at the mistake. Meanwhile Dutchy was silently promising himself that the next morning he'd reset the caller ID to show his friends real names instead of nicknames; there were too many damn Ss.
"Oh, hi Skitts," Dutchy mumbled.
"Just wanted to tell you you're missing a pretty good time out here. Jack and Spot are drunk, singing karaoke. It's not too late, I can still come pick you up."
"Maybe tomorrow Skitts. I dunno, I'm just not in the mood tonight."
Skittery hung up without replying, which led Dutchy to understand how angry he was. Dutchy wanted to be over Specs, and like Skittery, but it just wasn't happening. He just didn't feel like that about his long-time friend.
He glanced around his room, his eyes falling on a silver picture frame. His mother had gotten it for him the past Christmas, hoping he'd put a picture of him and his prom date in it. It made Dutchy laugh, he'd already been dating Specs then, of course his parents didn't know that. He knew they were a bit disappointed when he told them he was gay, but they'd recovered quickly. Now they just wanted him to have a boyfriend who was more like them, rich and constantly flaunting it. Specs was the opposite of that, almost dirt poor and a hard worker. But back to the picture frame. It held a large black and white photo of Specs and himself. Specs had his arms wrapped securely around Dutchy as the two of them sat in front of the dark backdrop. One arm over Dutchy's shoulder, and the other around his waist. It was Dutchy's favorite because it reminded him of Specs, sophisticated looking, traditional, and very practical. Well, that and the fact that they had spend the next hour playing tonsil hockey in the school's dark room. But it was for Jake's photography project so he hadn't minded.
1
He sighed, thinking of the photo album buried somewhere in his closet of all the pictures he had of the two of them since their freshman year in High School. It was when they'd met, but they hadn't started dating since mid July the year before. Dutchy looked at the phone, knowing the minute he decided to go out his parents would call. And if he didn't answer they'd suspect he was out doing god knows what.
"Screw it," he said out loud, "Screw them."
He flung on his leather jacket and grabbed his helmet as he walked downstairs. As soon as the door slammed behind him he heard the phone begin ringing. He ignored it and started his motorcycle, speeding toward the downtown area. He parked his motorcycle in the school parking lot and grinned as he spotted Specs' old, beat up truck. He yelled as a driver almost hit him while he crossed the street. As he entered the fairgrounds he could hear Jack and Spots drunken slurs in the distance. Those two were definitely very drunk.
He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. It was just barely midnight. Six months, eight days, and twelve hours. That was how long it had been since they'd broken up. It had been entirely his fault too. Him and his stupid idea that you should never go out with someone for more than six months. That was the only reason he'd broken up with Specs. He could slap himself for it. He set off in search of the dark haired boy.
1
Specs wasn't about to complain about anything, Dutchy had told him when their relationship started that he wouldn't let it last more than six months. He'd still been drawn in by Dutchy's outrageous personality. He really hadn't expected to fall for Dutchy, and he fell hard.
He noticed Spot and Jack singing drunkenly up on the makeshift stage while Snoddy, Swifty, and Skittery cheered them on. Specs raised an eyebrow at seeing Skittery. That boy had been hanging off Dutchy since they'd broken up. He turned and walked away, not in the mood to be cussed out by Skittery for being within ten feet of him.
He wandered around a bit, glancing in booths but never really playing anything. Suddenly a voice yelled his name, "Hey Specs."
He turned to find Pie and Bumlets approaching him, holding hands and completely unembarrassed by it. How he longed to do that again.
"Have you seen Dutchy?" Pie asked, "He was looking for you."
"He's here," Specs was sure his eyes were as wide as saucers as he spoke."
"Yeah," Bumlets said, "Ran into him a while ago. Over by the other end." He grinned, "You know, down by the Ferris wheel."
"Thanks, I'll se you later." Specs turned and started in that direction, trying not to let his happiness show through, but he knew there was definitely more of a bounce in his step.
1
Dutchy walked through a clump of bushes. He stopped short seeing Itey and Snitch walking together. He couldn't help grinning. Snitch it seemed had finally gotten up the courage to ask Itey out. The two of them were cute together, and Dutchy started to ask them if they'd seen Specs, but thought better of it. He watched as the two of them sat down on a bench, Snitch's arm comfortingly around Itey's waist. He leaned forward and began whispering things in Itey's ear, and by the look on Itey's face the things Snitch was saying were surely not something either of their mothers would appreciate hearing. Itey turned to Snitch to shush him and was caught in a kiss.
Dutchy began to walk away from that area. They were shutting off some of the lights for the big fireworks display, and he didn't want to risk disturbing the two by tripping over a tree root. Most of the lights were off, or at least dimmed. Spot and Jacks serenade was over, he'd only hear Spot swear occasionally as he stumbled into a barrier now.
Dutchy walked in the direction of the games, hoping to do one more sweep of the place before heading home. He walked to where the path started and up toward the stage.
Specs was wandering down the path to the benches where he knew many people hung out. The lights were almost all out and the visibility was poor. He swore violently as he stubbed his toe on a loose brick then started on again.
Two boys suddenly felt their shoulder ram into that of another person. The force spun them both and one of them nearly lost his balance. The other figure reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him.
"Sorry," one said.
"I'm so sorry," the other said at the same time.
They both froze, hearing a familiar voice. At that time the first firework went up, illuminating the sky, and allowing both of them to see whom they'd run into.
"Specs," Dutchy gasped.
"Dutchy," Specs whispered.
Another firework illuminated the sky a brilliant gold color and their eyes meant. Without so much as even a hint of a signal from Specs Dutchy moved in. He put one arm securely around Specs waist and the other behind his head. He kissed Specs forcefully. To his surprise Specs kissed him back. Dutchy loosened his hold and ran a hand through Specs' hair.
1
Dutchy and Specs' hair and clothes were all askew before the fireworks were done. They'd stopped kissing and were walking back to Specs' car. Dutchy kissed Specs once more quickly. "So, uh, d'you want to, um, y'know…"
"Yeah," Dutchy breathed.
"Good," Specs whispered, "I, um…"
"Saw fireworks." Dutchy supplied. He grinned and raised an eyebrow. He pulled Specs in to kiss him again.
"Yeah," Specs smirked, "Fireworks."
A/N: Reposting this. Wow, it really needed some editing. I still love my fluffy Sputchy. If you haven't already left a review do so now.
Hotshot