A/N: Just a short piece that I wrote for one of my best friends. Shamelessly fluffy, but I regret nothing.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or any of the characters therein. Which sucks.
David glanced up from his book as someone knocked on the front door of the Jacobs' home. Figuring it was just Jack coming to call on Sarah, David made no move to answer the door – Jack practically lived there at this point, he could just walk in. "Come on in!" David called, turning back to his book.
When the door didn't open, David looked up again. "Jack? It's not locked, come on in…"
A moment of silence, then, "Sorry, Mouth, but it ain't Jacky-boy."
"Spot?" David got up quickly and crossed to the door. Fumbling with the handle – why on earth did he suddenly feel so anxious? – he said, "Sorry for not letting you in, I thought it was just Jack coming to see Sarah…"
He pulled the door open, and there was Spot, standing casually in the hallway with a playful grin on his face. "You ain't disappointed, are you?" Spot asked, leaning against the doorframe.
"Of course not. Come in."
As Spot walked past him into the apartment, David glanced curiously at the bulging rucksack the Brooklyn newsie was carrying. "What's that you've got?"
"Oh, this?" Spot placed the rucksack onto the floor. "Some Christmas presents, actually…Didn't really have time to wrap 'em." He gave another grin as he reached into the sack and produced an astonishing array of items: he'd gotten a slingshot, a harmonica, and a dominos game for Les; a porcelain music box for Sarah; a sewing box for Mrs. Jacobs; and a large box of cigars for David's father.
"And, last but not least, yours," Spot said, looking amusedly at David's gaping expression. Smirking, he handed David a large bar of chocolate and two books: a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.
"How'd you know I like Shakespeare?" David asked, blushing a little – his love of poetry wasn't something he tended to advertise.
"It's those birds, chirpin' in my ear again," Spot said with a chuckle.
David grinned and graciously accepted the gifts. "Spot, this…Thank you. Look, um…I didn't really get you anything, but would you consider staying for dinner? I'm sure my folks wouldn't mind. Les definitely wouldn't."
"Hey, you don't have to get me anythin'," Spot said with a smile. "But I wouldn't mind stayin' for dinner. Don't really have anyplace else to be. Hey, think your pa would mind if I pinched one of those cigars before I gave 'em to him?"
Everyone else had gone to bed. Spot and David were standing out on the fire escape, chatting quietly and listening to the faint sound of a group of Christmas carolers singing down the street. David glanced over at the other boy and watched him pensively.
Spot Conlon was an enigma to him. Most of the time, he acted like a stone-faced fighter who didn't give much of a damn about anyone but himself, someone who would take down anyone who stood in his way, ayone who dared to cross him. He was respected, feared, obeyed wherever he went. Because he was Spot Conlon, and when Spot Conlon gave an order, you followed it.
But tonight…Tonight he'd been different. David had watched Spot playing dominos with Les, laughing at all of the kid's stupid jokes, letting him win every game. Spot had been a perfect gentleman at dinner, politely engaging the entire family in conversation, displaying none of the crude humor he so often did when he was in the company of his fellow newsboys. It was a side of him that David had never seen…and David liked it.
"What're you starin' at?" Spot asked suddenly, breaking David's reverie.
"Hmm? Oh…Nothing, I just…I've never seen you act like you did tonight. I mean, when we hang out with Jack and the others, you always Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, the toughest, meanest guy around." Spot gave a half-smile at David's words. "But tonight you were…you were just Spot, I guess." David paused, then added, "Sometimes I wonder if you're really as mean as you make yourself out to be."
Spot gave a sigh and leaned against the railing, kicking lightly at the snow that had built up on the edge of the platform. "Well, Mouth, truth is…I ain't quite as mean as I seem. I mean, I ain't sayin' I can't take on any scab in the city…"
"Oh, I don't doubt that," David said with a chuckle.
"But I suppose it's true that I ain't exactly the, uh…bastard my reputation makes me seem like." Spot coughed awkwardly. "I just got used to buildin' myself up that way, y'know? Can't last long in Brooklyn if you're a softie."
"Understandable."
"But I gotta admit, sometimes – like tonight – it feels…Feels good to sort've let that part of me take a break for a while. I can't do that 'round most people."
"But you can around me?" David asked. "I mean, my family," he quickly amended, wondering why he'd singled himself out like that.
Spot smiled. "Yup. 'Cause I know I can trust you, Mouth. I feel…I feel safe, lettin' my guard down if it's just you."
Before David could reply, Spot gave him a solemn look. "You tell anyone I told you all that and I'll have to kill you."
He looked so grave and serious that David almost believed him, and that must have registered on his face because Spot suddenly burst out laughing. He gently punched David's shoulder and said, "I'm just messin' with you, Mouth, honest. Wouldn't kill you – I'd miss you."
It took a couple of seconds for David's brain to process those last three words. "Seriously? You would?"
Spot blushed – he actually blushed – and replied, "Well…yeah. We're friends, ain't we? Friends miss friends…"
"Yeah. Friends," David echoed, the longing in his voice confusing him. He found himself legitimately gazing at Spot – not staring, gazing. Gazing at the way the wind gently blew through the boy's long blond hair, and the way the corners of his mouth twitched when he smiled. And he noticed that Spot was gazing back. Their eyes locked for a long, long time, and neither of them spoke, merely stood there, both of them a little unsure of what to do.
He didn't know if it was the cold or the way Spot was looking at him, but David suddenly gave a small quiver, and the intense closeness of the moment was broken.
"You cold?" Spot asked, noticing David's slight shiver. Before David could reply, Spot had wrapped his arms around the brunet's waist and pulled him close. "Better?"
David tried to ignore the furious blush rising to his cheeks and the goosebumps that formed on his arms at Spot's touch. He attempted to seem relaxed, but that was difficult to do with the butterflies churning in his stomach.
"Want me to get you a coat instead?" Spot asked, apparently sensing David's tensing muscles.
"No," David said, a little too quickly. He didn't want a coat - he liked the feeling of the other boy's arms around him (a realization that surprised him). "N-No, it's fine…Thanks?"
Spot gave a crooked smile that made David's heart flutter. It may have been David's imagination, but Spot's embrace seemed to tighten a little, almost imperceptibly.
They stood there silently, both of them quite warm, despite the quickly-dropping temperature. The carolers had stopped singing, but someone in a nearby apartment was playing something on a piano. The boys, unknowingly, started to sway just a little in time to the lilting music, rocking back and forth on their feet, almost like dancing.
Somewhere, a clock started to chime, signaling that it was now midnight. December 25th. Christmas. At the same moment, the music stopped, and the boys instantly froze, both of them realizing what they'd been doing. Spot relinquished his hold on Davey, avoiding eye contact as he said, "Uh…it's late…I should be gettin' back."
Before David could respond, Spot was already climbing through the window into the house. As he followed, David suddenly realized he didn't want Spot to go. He didn't know why, but he knew that he wanted Spot to stay the night.
"Sure you don't want to just sleep here?" David asked as he walked Spot to the door. "It's late and it's cold...And you'd be walking back all by yourself..."
"Hey, no worries. It's not like anybody's gonna try messin' with the king of Brooklyn." Spot grinned. "But thanks for the offer."
"No problem." David rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um...g'night then, I guess. And...Merry Christmas, Spot," he added with a shy smile.
"Merry Christmas, Mou- David," Spot said, placing a hand on David's shoulder. Neither of them moved, but simply stood there looking at each other in total silence.
Spot glanced upward suddenly, and a small smile appeared on his face. David followed Spot's gaze and saw the mistletoe his parents had hung up earlier that day.
David was instantly aware of Spot's face moving closer to his. He swallowed and looked down, locking eyes with Spot. David made an effort to look away, but Spot's eyes froze him in place.
"Ain't it bad luck not to kiss under the mistletoe?" Spot whispered, his breath warm on David's face, his mouth so close that David could feel the movement of his lips.
"No idea," David whispered back, trying to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest. "But we...we better not risk it."
Oh God, David thought, mentally kicking himself. Did I really just say that? What the hell is he gonna think of me now? I-
David's capacity for coherent thought was completely shut down as Spot angled his head and melded his mouth against the brunet's in a gentle but enthusiastic kiss. David's arms, seemingly moving on their own, wrapped around Spot's waist and pulled him closer as David hummed into the kiss. The only things he was aware of were the feel of Spot's lips on his, and Spot's arms encircling his neck.
After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled apart, looking at each other in silence. They were both flushed and breathing hard, but as their eyes met, they smiled brightly at each other. The unspoken bond between them, the bond that had been growing in intensity (unbeknownst to both of them) since the day they met, had finally been acknowledged.
"…As much as I hate to say it, I should get goin'," Spot whispered. "We both need sleep…"
"C'mon, stay the night? My bed's big enough for two." David knew he sounded like a kid, but he didn't care.
Spot smiled, inhaled slowly, and nodded. David grinned and grabbed Spot's hand, tugging on it gently as they started to walk. "Won't you parents wonder why you got another guy in your bed?"
"I'll just tell them it was late, and you didn't want to walk back to Brooklyn in the dark and the cold. They'll be fine with that."
"Yeah, but…in your bed?"
"My parents won't think it's too unusual. Goodness knows, I have to share my bed with Jack everytime Sarah invites him to stay over."
Spot laughed, lightly squeezing David's hand. "Better make sure Jacky-boy doesn't get too comfy with doing that. I get jealous easily."
David stopped walked long enough to gently brush his lips against Spot's. "Believe me, Spot Conlon, there's no need to be jealous. Because all I want for Christmas – and for the rest of my life – is you."