Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, nope, that's Disney. And I don't own the song that I based this fic after, nope, that's Hinder.

Author's Note: Yay, another spontaneous story. I was driving today, and this song came on, and I was like "God, that's Spot and Race ..." so I went home and spent a few hours typing this up. Something about how Race would call his fiance his "girl" combined with the fact that I've always been infatuated with Spot's lips (I'm serious, look at them, they're perfect) made those two the perfect couple for this story. I could easily see Spot calling Race late at night and Race confessing how he sometimes wishes the person he were with was Spot. I love it. So I hope you will love it just as much. Also, I am undecided as of yet if this should be just left as a one-shot, or if I should add a few chapters and show what happens on their night out and what happens after. I dunno, so your opinions on that would also be appreciated. Damn, this is a long author's note, lol, so I will go away now. I hope you like it.

Well, my girl's in the next room,
Sometimes I wish she was you.
I guess we never really moved on.
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name,
It sounds so sweet.
Coming from the lips of an angel,
Hearing those words, it makes me weak.
And I never wanna say goodbye,
But, boy, you make it hard to be faithful,
With the lips of an angel.

-"Lips of an Angel" by Hinder

A clap of thunder sounded outside, shaking the leaves from the trees. There hadn't been a storm like this in months. Tomorrow morning Main Street would be flooded, branches of several old trees would be in front lawns, and the power would probably be out in half the town. Tony pulled back the living room curtains and glanced into the night. The rain blurred his vision in sheets, and the fall sky was a nasty shade of green-gray. Letting out a long sigh he let the lace curtains falls back into place and glanced toward the bedroom. Through the open door he could hear light, even breathing. Susan. She was always so peaceful when she slept.

Susan and Tony had been together for two and a half years. They met Susan's senior year of college. She was going to be an editor for a major fashion magazine in the city. Tony was a freelance photographer with no college education who took pictures for the same magazine. He was just getting over a serious relationship, and she had never been in a serious relationship. He taught her how to laugh; how to take her work less seriously. She taught him how to enjoy his job, and to take pride in his work. Their relationship was easy, no work at all for either of them. Now they had been together thirty months to the day and were going to get married in the spring.

They were happy together, known to their friends as the single entity "Susan-and-Tony." It was a peaceful life, a simple life. Something commonplace and uninteresting, very unlike the life that Tony had lived once upon a time…

Tony stood and paced the room a few times. He could never sleep during storms; it had been that way since he'd been a boy in the orphanage. The only difference was, in the orphanage he'd had someone to sit up with him. Now, in his own home, Susan could sleep just fine, and Tony sat by the window alone, listening to the rain slap the rooftop and cringing at each clap of thunder.

The phone rang a minute later and startled Tony. He ran to it and picked it up quickly before it could wake his fiancé. "Hello?" he whispered, glancing at the clock. 2:53 a.m.

"Tony?"

Tony felt something sucking at the inside of his chest, as if all the oxygen had been vaccumed from his lungs in less than a second, and swore it was his heart stopping mid-beat. Thirty, forty, fifty seconds passed before Tony finally coughed and asked, "Who is this?"

"It's … I figured you'd be up."

Tony almost smiled; he knew the boy on the other line didn't need to tell him who it was. He would recognize that voice anywhere, anytime.

"Why are you calling so late, Shawn? Why are you calling ... at all? Is something wrong?"

"I can't ever remember a storm this bad. I didn't know if you had anybody to talk to on nights like this."

Tony glanced towards the bedroom again. "Hold on a sec," he said quickly, and hurried over to softly close the door. "Hey," he said, coming back to the phone.

"Hey," Shawn said.

There was more silence, two boys just listening to each other breathe over the line. A sound they had grown accustomed to years ago and had never been able to let go of.

"How've you been?"

"Not bad I guess."

"That's good, that's good …" Tony mused. He glanced through the curtains again, as if Shawn might be just outside the window. "It sure has been a while."

"Yeah," Shawn said quietly. "You still workin' for that newspaper or whatever?"

Tony chuckled, "Yeah. It's a magazine, Shawn, and yeah I still photograph for them."

Tony could almost see Shawn laughing on the other end. "God that's fruity."

A laugh sounded off the empty beige walls, and with a shock, Tony realized that it was his own. He composed himself quickly and nodded to no one, "What about you? Are you still doing construction for that asshole up in Queens?"

Someone sighed a heavy sigh over the line. "Yeah, I'll be doin' it till the day I die, just like my old man."

Tony shook his head, "You know, if you'd just go to college or something, take some classes, you could get a better job. Make a good living."

Shawn nodded, "What the hell do I need a 'good living' for? It's just me an' the fuckin' dog."

Again Tony laughed, "You still have Little Shit?" he asked in disbelief.

This time Shawn laughed too, "Yeah, that stupid thing'll never die."

Tony shook his head, "Oh man, I miss that dog," he said, remembering the shitzu he and Shawn had owned back when … well, a long time ago. "Yeah …"

Shawn didn't speak for a moment, and then said in a crippling monotone, "I miss you, Tony."

Tony coughed, trying to hide his surprise. "I … Shawn …"

Shawn sighed. "It's okay … you don't gotta say anything."

Tony closed his eyes, blocking out his surroundings: the boring white walls, the crisp lace curtains, the starched brown carpet. "I know we haven't talked in a long time, Shawn, but, I'm engaged now …"

There was silence on the line, not even breathing. "Oh," Shawn said calmly. "Wow, well, you didn't waste any time, did you? It's only been … what … two years?"

Tony cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Nearly three."

"Right … Sorry then. Guess I was wrong about before, thinking you didn't have anyone to, ya know, sit up with you on nights like tonight. I'll go-"

"No!" Tony said, startling himself with his directness. "I mean, well, Susan's asleep. She doesn't stay up with me, I mean."

Shawn chuckled. "Oh," he said softly, as if he found this funny. Then he frowned apologetically, "Sorry ... Susan, huh?"

Tony coughed again, and Shawn recognized his ex-lover's nervous habit.

"You okay, Tony?"

Tony let Shawn's words sink into him and shook his head. "Ya know," he said, "I really thought I was. Until you called."

"I'm sorry," Shawn repeated.

There was more silence between them, and more of Tony's fake coughing.

Shawn tried to begin another goodbye: after making their conversation significantly awkward, he figured he was obligated to begin the awkward goodbye process as well.

"Look, I-"

"No, just hold on a minute, okay," Tony said, sucking in as much air as he could and then letting it all out in one long, painful sentence. "If you want the truth Shawn it's that I haven't gone a single night without thinking about you since you left."

Shawn just sat, stunned, miles away, breathing into the phone steadily.

"Shawn?"

"I'm here."

Tony exhaled slowly. "It was only a few months ago I broke the habit of sitting by the phone till midnight each night, hoping you'd call. I even picked it up myself a few times, dialed up till the last digit of your number … but I never had the balls to hit that last digit, hear it ring, hear you on the other end …"

"I shouldn't 'a called."

Tony nearly let out a yell of frustration. Here he was, after nearly three years of waiting for this phone conversation, pouring out confessions like the sap he was, and all Shawn could say was "I shouldn't have called"?

"Then why the hell did you? Huh?" Tony hissed.

"I told you … I miss you."

Tony bit his lip hard to stop the harsh words he knew were inside him. "Look, Shawn …" He had to tell him that it wouldn't work, that he was engaged now, that too much time had passed. But what Shawn said next shattered into a million pieces the emotional walls Tony had spent three careful years constructing.

"I'm still in love with you, Tony."

Tony felt his stomach drop and a dry sob escaped his lips. "God, Shawn …"

Shawn didn't say a word.

"My girl is over in the next room, sleeping like a fucking angel. She doesn't know about any of this. I never told her about you; she doesn't know; she's so innocent. She doesn't know that half the time we're together I wish she was you …"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck, is that all you can say? Bastard …"

Shawn smiled, remembering the way extreme emotions tended to bring out Tony's sailor mouth, despite his usual casual and composed demeanor.

"No," Shawn whispered, "I can say that I'm sorry."

"You've got nothin' to be sorry for," Tony shook his head sadly, "I'm glad you called. It's been too long that we haven't –"

"No," Shawn said, "For leaving. I'm sorry for leaving."

Tony swallowed hard. "We never moved on, I guess." What else was there to say?

Shawn chuckled through the tears forming. "Yeah, well I never expected you to get over me - you're such a girl after all …"

Tony frowned, "Hey …"

"Ya know what I miss most?" Shawn said suddenly. When Tony didn't respond, he continued. "Your hands."

Tony was about to protest – about to tell Shawn that they shouldn't be saying these things to each other. This was all wrong. But Shawn continued right over him.

"You used to love holding hands. I remember that. I'd never tell you how much I loved it too. 'Cause when you were holding my hand, damn, there wasn't a thing in the world I couldn't do, ya know?"

Tony nodded. He did know. He remembered well the feeling of Shawn's slim fingers entwined with his own. The way that gesture alone seemed to make them both invincible to the rest of the world. They were holding on to each other, a part of each other, and that's all that mattered.

"I miss your lips," Tony admitted shyly, not resisting anymore, and feeling the blush creep into his pale cheeks. He didn't elaborate, just sat remembering the way they used to lie in bed for hours. It didn't matter the time of day – morning before work, afternoon before dinner, or in the middle of the night when neither could sleep. And Shawn would kiss Tony's fingertips and whisper to him. Tony couldn't remember Shawn's voice saying anything, but he could remember reading those lips – following their pattern with his eyes, memorizing every little phrase. They were the lips of an angel. Shawn had always been his angel.

They sat lost in memories for a few minutes more, until Race coughed, and Spot knew their moment of sincerity with one another was over. "Shawn, I should probably go … An hour more and Susan will be getting up for work."

Shawn sighed, "You don't think we could … ya know, get together sometime do you? Just, for old time's sake."

Tony laughed ironically, "Why don't you stop by the wedding this spring?"

Shawn frowned, "Ya don't gotta be like that …"

Tony put back on a straight face, "I know," he said, "I'm sorry." But, the truth was that he was floored by Shawn's genuineness in asking to see him. It wasn't like the hardcore Brooklynite to be asking things like that. "Actually," he said slowly, "I would like that. A lot."

Shawn smiled. "Good," he said, "Me too. What time do you get off work tomorrow?"

"Six," Tony answered, "How about you?"

"Not 'till eight."

"Well, I remember where you work. I'll swing by and pick you up when you're done then…" It was odd, making plans like this after so many years, but somehow very natural.

Shawn laughed, "Fine, but you gotta take me back to my apartment still. I'm gonna smell like shit after work. I'll shower and change and you can play with the dog."

Tony smiled. "Okay, eight o'clock then."

"Eight o'clock," Shawn repeated.

"I shouldn't be doing this, you know," Tony said wearily.

Shawn laughed, "You're just goin' to have a couple beers with an old friend, right? I'm sure the little wife would be fine with that."

Tony nodded, knowing as well as Shawn did that while their meeting would certainly involve beers, it would involve nothing else his "little wife" would approve of. "Okay," he said softly.

"Okay, see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow."

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You promise you'll come?"

Tony smiled, "I promise I'll come."

There was a moment of silence before both boys hung up at the same time. Race set the phone down gently and stood up, stretching his back. He pulled back the lace curtains and found with a smile that the storm had blown over. The palest of pink lights was shining from the east, and the storm's destruction looked peaceful beneath its glow. Just like all those nights at the orphanage, Tony was comforted by Shawn's voice, and he lay down to rest without a worry. He got a total of ninety minutes of sleep that evening, and each and every one was filled with thoughts of the full, soft lips that would be caressing his skin that night. The lips of his angel.