Disclaimer: I own nothing. Newsies belongs to Disney, Halo belongs to...whomever created it, and the female characters belong to Raven.

Title: Halo and Starbursts

Summary: Dutchy ponders about Specs; Specs ponders about Dutchy. Het in the beginning, implied slash throughout. Sputchy. 'The faint, lime green reminded him of Specs. Green was Specs' favorite color.'

Opening comments: Much pseudo heart to my fantastic beta, Sabilla. Lessthanthree to Runny, Raven, Falco, and my bffl Brian. You suck at life, Brian, but I platonic love you. Beware of random Brian and Mikey references.

---

Dutchy sat quietly at a lunch table, ignoring his loud and laughing friends surrounding him. He leaned on it with his chin on his arms, staring at the speckled green plastic. The faint, lime green reminded him of Specs. Green was Specs' favorite color. It had been four days since he last saw Specs alone. Specs had a new girlfriend, Alyssa. It was no wonder that Specs liked Alyssa. Her eyes were green.

Alyssa took up all of Specs' time. Specs liked to take her places, show her off to his friends, buy her things. She was picky. Dutchy didn't like her. Not just because she was Specs' girlfriend, but because she was so picky. When they first started going out, Specs would invite Dutchy and Lisa to go with them. The four of them would go to John's, a popular diner, and most likely a movie afterwards. Now, Lisa would get what she always ordered, a plain cheeseburger, a coke, and a dry salad. Lisa was a little picky, but she was nothing compared to Alyssa.

Alyssa had to have everything on the side. Everything. This annoyed Dutchy more than anything. If she got a salad, she had to get all the little toppings that girls obsess over in tiny little cups. If she ordered a burger, she made sure that she had everything except pickles and tomatoes, and it was all on the side. Dutchy didn't understand why she couldn't just order something and then dissect it when the waiters brought it out. And then with her drinks, don't even get her started on the drinks. She liked mixed soda, with just the right amount of Sprite, Coke, and Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper alone was enough to make Dutchy ralph, but the combination was even worse. Who mixes Coke and Dr. Pepper? Specs' obsessive-compulsive girlfriend, that's who.

Dutchy also couldn't stand her because she was always so hyper. Sure, Dutchy could handle a happy, cheery person, but someone who was constantly bouncing off the walls and talking six hundred thousand miles a minute got on his nerves. Alyssa was always talking and giggling. And then talking and giggling more. When she was around her friends, it was impossible to even think she was normal. Always chittery and talking about shoes and crap. He wondered how Specs dealt with it. She was so high-maintenance.

Specs met Alyssa through Dutchy's ex-girlfriend, Lisa. All of their friends thought Dutchy was insane for breaking up with her. He just couldn't take it anymore. Sure, Lisa was nice. And pretty. And smart. But it just didn't feel right with Dutchy. In the beginning, everything was great. He adored Lisa, and he couldn't seem to keep his mind off of her. He liked talking with her, listening to her, and just being around her. Then Lisa went and introduced he and Specs to Alyssa. Specs and Alyssa hit it off right from the start. They were inseparable. Just like Specs and Dutchy used to be. Soon, Specs started spending more time with Alyssa and less time with Dutchy. Every Wednesday, Specs and Dutchy would go to Game Stop to see if they had any new games in. But with Alyssa in the picture, that became more and more infrequent as the weeks went by. Finally, the visits stopped altogether.

Their friends noticed something different about Dutchy; they said he was becoming reclusive. He started to drift away from Lisa, from his friends, and even from Specs. Everyone thought it was just pressure from exams. Not even Specs figured out why he was becoming quieter than he already was. That's what finally hurt Dutchy the most. Not even his best friend could keep his hands off a girl long enough to see if everything was okay. Not that he'd tell him, of course.

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang and Dutchy gathered his things. He said goodbye to his friends and started off towards English when Skittery stopped him.

"Are you okay, Dutch?"

Dutchy looked up and gave a smile he hoped wasn't too fake.

"Yep, I'm downright nifty," He said brightly.

Skittery nodded and put a hand on Dutchy's shoulder, not believing him, but not prying.

"Come on, we'll be late."

---

Dutchy sat leaning against the long row of lockers in the hall after school. He felt someone slide down the wall next to him. He knew who it was without looking.

"Dutchy?"

Dutchy made a sound of acknowledgment in the back of his throat, but still didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to say anything else. Specs knew that Dutchy was angry with him, but he didn't care. They were Specs and Dutchy. Everything gets solved in the end. And then brownies were made by Dutchy's mom and devoured.

"Dutchy," Specs poked Dutchy. "Dutchy. Dutchy, look at me or I will stay here and poke your arm until you bleed. Or until we die. Whichever comes first. I'm probably going to end up poking you for a very long time. And then when I just keep poking, you'll get annoyed. And eventually you'll have to look at me. Or I poke you forever and we die!"

Dutchy did half of what Specs requested. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Dutchy knew exactly what Specs was doing. He would give Dutchy the sad eyes and promise that he'd pay for games for a month, and buy Dutchy whatever candy he wanted. And, like always, it would work.

"Halo and a really big bag of Starburst."

"But we got Halo."

"I never played it. You stole it from me. It made me sad."

"Batshit. You played."

"Until my mom made brownies. And then you hijacked it when I went to get them."

Specs fell silent. Dutchy looked at him. "You know it's true. I win." Dutchy slid farther down the wall, practically lying on the floor. He vaguely wondered how he got that far without telling Specs how much he really cared for him. Or how stupid Specs was not to know it. Then again, he was still wrapped around Alyssa's pinkie. Dutchy tilted his head to the side and started to ponder to himself when he felt Specs smack him.

"Mmf. What?"

"I broke up with Alyssa today. Just right now," Specs said nonchalantly.

Dutchy whirled to face Specs. "You what? Why? Specs, you idiot. Why would you do that?" He stared at Specs in disbelief. Specs was obsessed with that girl. It didn't make any sense him that Specs would jump break up with her out of the blue. But then, a lot of things didn't make sense to Dutchy.

Specs looked at Dutchy, bemused. "You hate Alyssa, Dutchy."

Dutchy felt himself turn pink. "I don't hate her. She just gets on my nerves a little. You can't think that everyone liked her." Dutchy concentrated on the ceiling. Maybe if he didn't look directly into Specs' eyes, he had a chance of not getting caught in a lie. Of course everyone liked her. She was perfect. Everyone thought her faults were so cute, so endearing. Dutchy hated them. If people were even slightly intelligent, they would realize that a girl whose life revolves around making Dutchy miserable is not, in fact, perfect.

Specs poked Dutchy. Dutchy poked back. Specs poked Dutchy again.

"You hate her, Dutchy," Specs grinned at Dutchy, and Dutchy couldn't help but grin back. "So! Now we are through-gasp-forever! You can start talking to people again. And smiling. And laughing. And the best part is! You can be a normal human being! Who would have thought it?"

Dutchy shook his head and nudged Specs with his shoulder. "You're weird. Now come on, it's Wednesday, and you're buying me candy, dammit." Dutchy pushed himself up and off of the wall, and held out a hand to Specs. "Come, child. Up you get."

Specs raised an eyebrow. "So now we're becoming prejudiced by age, I see how it is. You follow me, you old, wrinkly, botox needing fool." Specs grabbed Dutchy's hand and pulled himself up before tugging Dutchy down the hallway. He let go of Dutchy's hand when they reached the doors, and Dutchy immediately longed for the touch again.

Later, when they were lying on the floor in Specs' room and playing X-Box, Dutchy would think back to that afternoon and wish for Specs' hand on his once more.

---

Dutchy woke up sprawled on Specs' bed. He glanced around, confused at first. He had forgotten that he was at Specs' house. Dutchy sat up and put on his glasses. Cartoon Network was currently on the television, candy wrappers were strewn across the floor, and Specs was nowhere in sight. Dutchy attempted getting up and failed miserably. He settled for sliding off the bed and found that he rather liked the floor. The floor was his new pet. He idly wondered how sad it would be if the floor turned on him. Then he wondered what the hell he was thinking. Maybe he had too many Starbursts.

"Dutchy, what are you doing on the floor?"

Dutchy opened one eye. "I'm writing a children's story. It ends like this," he cleared his throat before continuing. "'The pink elephants flew over the moon and La La and Dipsy lived happily ever after and then Tinky-Winky died.'"

Specs stared at Dutchy. "I think the point of children's books are not to scar them for life. Killing off their favorite marshmallow aliens would count as scarring for life. Expect a revolt, Dutchy."

"There will be no revolt. I am not killing off more than one marshmallow alien. Only Tinky-Winky. Po went to the crackhouse and never came back. It is up to the reader to use their imagination with Po. I think most will want him not to come back. Her. It. Whatever the hell that thing was."

"You frighten me, Dutchy. I fear for your sanity," Specs told Dutchy. Dutchy let his eyes wander around the room. There was a much different perspective on the floor than that of being on bed. On Specs' walls there were posters of musicians ranging from Chuck Berry to Jimi Hendrix to Rancid. The pineapple party lights from a birthday party nine years ago still lined the ceiling of his room, and there were pictures of Specs and Dutchy scattered everywhere. In Specs' collage of pictures, there had to be fifteen of the pair, some very disturbing while others would be considered nostalgic. Dutchy saw one of Specs and himself when they were seven, arms slung around the other's shoulders and both grinning toothless smiles. He saw one from the previous summer, Specs being thrown into the pool by Skittery and Dutchy, and one of the both of them being fairly stupid on Dutchy's trampoline. Then there was one Dutchy thought would never live to see daylight; one of himself on Halloween shooting whipped cream and silly string at the neighborhood preschoolers. He was covered in fake blood and ended up giving quite a few children a scare. He was grounded for three weeks.

His eyes finally came to stop on the wall next to Specs' door. There were several markings there, in pen and pencil, an assortment of colors. It was their measuring wall. They had been measuring themselves for as long as Dutchy could remember. The dates ranged from the time they where one and a half to a month ago. It reminded Dutchy that they grew up together, went through the same troubles, and conquered the same battles. It made him realize he should have been more supportive of Specs and Alyssa-the-Obsessive, just because Specs was his best friend and that's what he was supposed to do, but he couldn't help hating the wench.

"Dutchy?"

Dutchy glanced up at Specs and then at his alarm clock. It was a simple, white alarm clock that Dutchy had decorated four years ago. Dutchy had super-glued a Jimi Hendrix figurine to the top of it when Specs took an insane interest in Jimi Hendrix and trying to learn guitar. Thankfully, Specs had stopped trying after a few months and Dutchy's ears didn't have to suffer sour notes anymore. Dutchy tried to convince Specs to let him teach him guitar, but Specs was too stubborn to take lessons from someone else. To rub in his frustration at not immediately becoming another Slash, Dutchy stole his alarm clock and gave it to Skittery to tinker with. Skittery managed to rewire the clock to play "All Along the Watchtower." Dutchy received quite a few smacks with a pillow and had his memory card erased for that. Still, Specs had left the figurine on the clock, and that meant a lot to Dutchy, for reasons he couldn't explain. Then Dutchy remembered why he looked at the clock in the first place.

"Why are you up, Specs? It's 5:13 in the morning. School doesn't start until nine. There could be three glorious hours of sleep left, and if we're feeling really bold, four!"

Specs shrugged, his baggy shirt sliding down one shoulder. "I'm a morning person, you know that."

"Shaaa! Not this early. This is like before the sun comes up. Before…before normal people are awake."

"But…pancakes!"

Dutchy propped himself up on one elbow. "Pancakes?"

Specs grinned. "Pancakes! And I put little chocolate chips in them, too."

Smiling, Dutchy got up from his position on the floor and slung an arm around Specs' shoulders. "You know, I've decided to name your floor." Ignoring the look he received, he went on, "We have become very good friends. From now on, your floor shall be dubbed Sir Fuzzy of the Grandmother's Lip."

"My grandma doesn't have any fuzz," Specs said, mildly amused and mildly disturbed. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea getting Dutchy up early.

"Wait a few years, she'll get there," Dutchy nodded solemnly, and ran into Specs' door frame. Definitely not a good idea getting him up.

"Oh, my. Yum. Grandma fuzz," Specs voiced, guiding Dutchy down the hall. If Specs didn't know any better, he'd say Dutchy had a hangover. Maybe he had too many Starbursts.

"Man, that's your grandmother. Don't talk about her fuzz like that."

"Will you make up your mind? First you want the grandma fuzz, and then you want it more, and now you don't." Specs rolled his eyes as they approached the kitchen. "Now here we are, go eat your breakfast."

Dutchy's eyes widened, he was ecstatic. And probably mentally disturbed. "Have I told you that I love your mom? Mmm, syrup. Too bad mine never goes shopping. I think they should talk, my mom would learn some valuable lessons. Like how to cook. Or maybe that's being too adventurous. At least learn how to buy frozen dinners. That would make me happy."

"You know what would make me happy? If you shut up and ate your breakfast."

Dutchy happily obeyed, and proceeded to soak his pancakes in syrup. Specs watched Dutchy as he cleaned up the kitchen--he could not abide with a mess--wondering the real reason he broke up with Alyssa. He told her it was because there was too much going on and she deserved someone who would lavish her with attention. In all honesty, they both knew that wasn't the reason, but both were too chickenshit to say anything. It had something to do with Dutchy, but he didn't know what. Maybe it was the way his clear blue eyes were always sparkling, or how his laugh made Specs smile, or even the way Dutchy stuck out his tongue when playing Halo; it all entranced Specs. But this was Dutchy. Specs' best friend Dutchy. Dutchy who had been around since they were in diapers and drooled all over the place. He looked up to see Dutchy pouring syrup on every bite of his pancakes.

"Dutchy," he said. "You're going to overload."

"I am not," Dutchy protested. "Really. Syrup is good for the soul."

Specs shook his head and sighed. "Fine, but don't expect me to wake you up in—Dutchy, I just cleaned that!"

Dutchy grinned sheepishly. "An extra cleaning won't hurt you. Besides, it's nice to have a mess sometimes. I mean, gee. There's a spoonful of syrup on the counter and at least ten wrappers on your floor. How do you cope, Specs?"

"Ha, ha. Are you finished?" Specs asked, nodding towards Dutchy's plate 'o goo.

"Yes, and I can get my own plate for once, thanks." Dutchy slid off the barstool and walked to the sink. He put the plate in the sink and stared at the nozzle.

"Need help, Dutch?"

"Well," Dutchy started, "how do you work—oh. That's not cool."

"You're not cool." Specs threw a towel at Dutchy, as he had managed to douse himself in water. He should have known better than to trust Dutchy in his beloved kitchen. Now he'd have to clean again. "You're so smart it scares me."

"I take after you, you know."

Specs stared at Dutchy. "You're older than me, you can't take after me. I don't spray myself with water." Sometimes Specs feared for Dutchy's sanity. No, Dutchy's sanity was gone, dead, and buried by now. Maybe he was just a walking asylum. Without the constant white everywhere and straight-jackets. And padded walls. Or not, he could be insane without all of that.

Dutchy rolled his eyes. "You're so technical. I mean as in I take after you as when you do stupid things." He paused, brow furrowed. "That made sense in my head."

Specs surpressed a smile. Dutchy could be so unbelievably idiotic sometimes, but at least it was amusing. Besides, he'd been listening to Dutchy's babbling for seventeen years. If he didn't know how to decipher it by now…well, then, that was pretty sad.

"I'm sure it did. Anyway, I don't do stupid things."

"You do, too! You clean obsessively."

"I've always cleaned obsessively."

"Oh, you have. I guess I really am stupid, then! I had a dream you were a poodle last night. Does that count as a stupid thing?"

Specs snorted slash coughed, covering a laugh. "Yes, it does. It was those Starbursts. And one of us has to be. Stupid, I mean."

"How sad. I think I'm insulted," Dutchy declared. "No, I am insulted."

"We have to even out the balance. So I nominate you."

"You can't nominate me," Dutchy protested. And he was older, too. Just because he was a spaz didn't mean Specs could nominate him. "Nominated for what?"

At that, Specs did laugh aloud. "You suck at life, Dutchy. Don't harm yourself, go play Halo."

Dutchy grinned brightly at Specs. "Come, my friend. Forget the dishes and the syrup and the water, and let us slaughter aliens to our heart's content."

So he did.

---

Sitting with Dutchy against his bed at six in the morning, Specs didn't know what it was about him. His eyes, his laugh, his habits. But one day he would. And when that day came, he'd be ready.

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Closing comments: Review, it will make me happy. Click the button, it calls to you. If you don't click the button, you suck at life and not in the positive, self affirming way. Lessthanthree, Cellorama.