So today, 10-1-03, was Shot Hunter's 3 year anniversary. In our newsies-verse, that means her and Race have been going out three years, and tonight is a special occasion. (in normal words, it's been ten years since Shot's first seen Newsies) So I'm writing a story for her and for the rest of you. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, it's that simple. I do own Nymph though, and Shot owns herself. Stitch belongs half to herself and half to Shot. I basically own anyone else you don't recognize
Three Days for LoveMonday:
Nymph was in Brooklyn, running some errands for Dotty, her LH manager. After all that was done, she made a stop at the Brooklyn LH to visit.
"Heya Nymph." A girl walked out as Nymph approached the LH.
"Hey Stitch. Youse seen Shot at all taday?"
"Yeah, she's up in her room. But dere seems to be sumtin wrong wit her. An' she ain't talking wit no one about it. Maybe youse can get info outta her."
"Aw geeze. Dat goil's got more problems den Bookworm's got books. Guess I'll go see what I can do. See ya latah, Stitch."
"Yeah." As Stitch walked away, she tripped over a crack in the cobblestones and ended up sprawled on the ground. "Ow, I need stitches!" she yelled, grabbing her knee.
"No youse don't. Now get up and go sell." Nymph called back to her as she walked through the door. She nodded a greeting to Gabby as she headed up the stars to Shot's private room on the third floor.
"OK Shot, what's wrong witchuse taday?" She entered the room to see the strawberry blonde lying on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling.
"Go away."
"Nah, don't feel like it, so youse is gonna have ta talk wit me. 'Sides. I have ta wait fer Spot to come back."
Shot rolled over to see her friend giving her this weird smirk. "You know, Ise gonna end up killin youse one a dese days."
"Aw, don't go an do dat. You'd miss me too much. So tell me, what happened to ya now?"
Shot sighed and sat up. "Me an' Race's tree year annivoisary is Wednesday."
"Well, congrats and all, but why's dat makin you sad?"
"Ise dunno. Sometimes I tink dat he dot love me as much as he loves da horses or gamblin. Maybe ise should jus break up wit him" Shot looked genuinely sad, something Nymph wasn't used to seeing.
"Aw, c'mon goil. Youse know he loves ya. "
"Ise not too shoah bout dat anymoah."
"Well, just don't go and do anything drastic. Wait until Wednesday to see if youse opinion changes."
"I guess youse got a point. Fine. Tanks Nymph. I guess youse made me feel a little bettah." Shot started to get down off her bed when Spot Conlon entered the room.
"I hoid dat Shot's not feelin well. What's wrong Shot?"
"Nuttin's a mattah wit her, Spot. She's gotta go sell now anyways." Nymph started dragging him towards the door. "C'mon you freckled gnome, (a/n: I love knowing someone with an actual copy of the script.) I'se gotta take you back to 'Hattan wit me. Race wants ta talk witchuse."
So most of that day passed with the tree of them discussing plans for a certain event on Wednesday night while Shot was in Brooklyn selling papes and thinking. Later that night she was sitting on the roof smoking and thinking some more, when a voice called up to her.
"Shot Hunter, you get down off that roof right now. You know what I think about young ladies and smoking." Gabby, Danny's niece and current manager of the LH was yelling from somewhere on the third floor.
"But I ain't a young lady." Shot yelled back.
"I don't care what you think. Besides, you're late. It's the night I'm teaching you girls to cook."
Shot sighed as she clambered through the window. "Damnit, when's Danny comin back?" She muttered to herself as she headed for the small kitchen.
Spot returned around this time. He started to head up to the second floor to his room, but stopped when he heard voices coming from the kitchen. He turned around and headed that way. Then he saw one of the best things ever. There, in the tiny kitchen, were all the Brooklyn newsgirls getting cookie lessons from Gabby. But the best part was Shot. She was wearing a pink, frilly apron, stirring a bowl of dark batter. She was also muttering under her breath. Spot couldn't help but laugh. The girls all heard him and looked up, but none looked as annoyed, or angry, as Shot.
"Now Ise undahstand why Nymph calls you 'demon boy'. Sumtimes you really is a demon." She growled at him. Then she picked up a spoonful of batter and chucked it at Spot. It wasn't such a good idea. She was then yelled at by Dotty and told she had to clean the entire kitchen.
Tuesday:
"Shot? What youse doin?" Spot walked onto the roof to see Shot standing at the edge, smoking a cigarette and looking at the ground below.
"I was tinkin a jumpin."
"Now why would youse go an' do dat?"
"I dunno."
"Dat ain't a good reason."
"Yeah, I'se know." She got down of the edge and walked over to Spot.
"Good. Now youse can go an bake me a cake."
Shot flicked her cigarette butt at him and hit him square in the forehead. "No way, demon boy."
"Hey, only Nymph can call me dat."
"Ise'll call you whatevah I want. And anyway, she calls you dat and freckled gnome. What do youse call her?"
"Nymphie."
"Dat just sucks. Youse really need ta woik on dat."
"I noticed, but I dunno what else ta call her."
"Need some help, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Ok. Here's a deal. Youse listen to my little problem an' I'll help you tink of a bettah nickname for your goil."
"Can youse make a cake too?"
Shot whacked him in the back of the head as they headed back down the fire escape and through the window.
Wednesday:
Nymph was lying in her bed, dreaming of who knows what, (a/n: actually it was of my cousin and some guy we worked with going on a date but that is a whole other story.) when a voice woke her up.
"Come on Nymph, get up already. We'se gotta go ta Brooklyn." Nymph blinked sleepily and glanced at her watch. Then she glared at the boy standing next to her bed.
"Anthony Higgins, it is 6:30 in the morning. Let me sleep." She smacked him in the head and rolled over to go back to sleep.
They eventually did get to Brooklyn, around 2. Racetrack headed over to the docks to talk to Spot while Nymph went to the LH to help Shot get ready.
"Why don't you wear a skirt for Race?" Nymph said, digging through Shot's bag of clothes.
"No way." Shot was sitting on her bed, watching Nymph.
"Come on. It'll prolly make him happy."
"I don't even own one."
"No."
"Fine. Then gimme your nicest pair of pants. I'll iron dem."
Shot looked at her funny. "Youse know how ta iron?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"You nevah know when it may come in handy. Now gimme your pants and go wash up."
Shot got off her bed, threw the pants at Nymph, and headed towards the wash room. After a while she came back, drying her hair with a towel. "I decided dat I'll wear a skirt. But just fer Race."
Nymph looked up from the book she was reading. "I figured that, here." She pulled a folded black skirt from the bag she brought with her and tossed it at Shot. "I also got you a nice green girly shoit I borrowed from Stitch. It'll go wit your eyes. Let's see what else I got fer you. Bolt let me borrow a ribbon for your hair, it's green to go wit da shoit, an' Dotty gave me sum a dat makeup stuff."
A few minutes later Shot was standing there, looking more like a girl then she has ever. "Home come youse know all dis goily stuff?"
"I live in a goil's LH, not ta mention ise woik fer Dotty. She teaches me dis stuff. Ya know, if you weren't so stubborn, youse might realize dat dis stuff will all be useful in the future."
"Yeah, well Ise'll worry bout all dat when da future comes." They head a whistle from the doorway. Race and Spot were standing there.
"You clean up pretty nicely there, Race." Nymph said as Spot came to stand next to her.
"Tanks. Youse ready Shot?"
"Shoah, let's go." They left the room together, Nymph and Spot watching them go.
"Dey so cute tageddah, ain't dey." Nymph commented as Spot put an arm around her.
"Yeah, dey are."
"Hey, wanna go follow dem?"
"I tought you'd nevah ask. Let's go." They walked after them, hiding behind some crates where they could see them eating dinner, but couldn't be seen.
"Man, dey are boring." Spot said after watching them for two hours. "Dey haven't done anyting yet. When's he gonna ask her?"
Nymph hushed the boy as the two in front of them stopped at the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge and stared at the stars. They snuck close enough to hear them, but far enough away to stay hidden in the shadows.
"Shot, I wanna ask you sumting."
"What's dat, Race?" She asked, facing him. That's when she saw him take a little box out of his pocket and she let out a little gasp.
"Don't say anyting yet, jus' listen. I know I prolly haven't paid enough attention to youse, an' I know you tink dat I'se don't care fer you as much as you do fer me. I was tawkin wit Spot and Nymph. Dey told me. But the truth is dat you mean more to me den anyting in da whole world. I love you more den gamblin, more den da races, more den everyting. And I want to prove it to you. Kristen Hunter, will you marry me?"
Nymph let out a little "aw" as she saw her friend's face light up. Shot nodded her head and threw her arms around Race. Nymph leaned back into Spot's arms. "You know, dat's da happiest Ise evah seen da goil."
"Yeah, she does look pretty happy. Race does too." Spot replied.
"Lookin at dem's makin me happy too. C'mon demon boy, let's leave 'em alone now." The two walked hand-in-hand through the shadows back to the Manhattan girls lodging house.
"Dey finally left." Shot said to Race, her arms around his neck.
"Yeah, I noticed. Tink dey happy for us?"
"Who cares." She said, kissing him.
3 ~*~The End~*~ 3
Congrats Shot, hope you like my present.