Written as a Hanukkah present for my best friend. Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate this and especially to you Shayna!
Spot Conlon waited on the platform of the train station, watching as people surrounded Jack. He watched as they hugged him, as they said goodbye, as they cried. For all the tough guy speeches given by the Manhattan newsies, you would think they wouldn't cry so much. Even if this was probably the last time they would see their friend and leader for a very long time.
But as time dwindled on and the train was getting closer the group disbanded. One by one and two by two each boy walked away from Jack. Last but not least, Crutchy, who stumbled away with tears still streaming down his face as he blubbered goodbyes over again before finally leaving Jack alone on the platform. Well, as alone as one could be in a crowed New York train station.
It was only then that Spot stood up straight, from where he had been leaning against the back wall and made his way over to Jack.
"So this is really it, ey Jacky boy? You're really leavin'?" He knew the answer even as the accented words left his lips.
Jack turned. He hadn't expected Spot to be there and it was obvious on his face. The Brooklyn boy smirked at having caught him off guard, even if it may have been his last chance to do so.
"Yeah, Spot. This is it." The other replied.
If somehow it hadn't been clear that Jack Kelly was leaving New York to Spot before then it certainly was now. Both of them were quiet for a long moment. The train to New Mexico would be there in just a few minutes.
Spot cleared his throat to try to loosen the tension that hung in the air between them. Now it wasn't like the two newsie leaders had ever been very close. Their interactions with each other had been limited to little more than the occasional poker game. That being said, there was a sort of quiet yet mutual respect held for one another. Spot being the rightfully named King of Brooklyn and Jack having practically lead and entire rebellion. It was that respect that Spot blamed for the tightness in his throat as he did what he did next.
In one quick move Spot Conlon yanked the string around his neck. He strode to the other boy and pulled the makeshift necklace over Jack's head before taking a step back. "If you ever decide Santa Fe ain't for you, you're always welcome in Brooklyn."
Jack looked down. Sitting just above his collar was the infamous Key of Brooklyn. No one knew what it actually unlocked, if anything. It was just another part of the mystery that was Spot Conlon. Jack wrapped his hand around the worn out key. For some reason it felt special, like he'd been given a diamond rather than a rusted old key.
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." The simple words didn't describe anything close to the awe and appreciation he actually felt for the gift.
A whistle blew behind the two newsies. Jack's train was pulling in.
Spot turned to leave, but only made it a few steps before a hand tugged at his forearm and spun him around again. A warm pair of lips met his before he knew what was happening.
It was a horrible kiss. Quite possibly the worst either boy had ever had. Teeth clashed painfully against each other and neither participant was entirely sure what exactly was happening if they were being honest with themselves. It was over before Spot was able to kiss back.
When Spot finally got a hold on himself long enough to process what was going on Jack was gone. His lips tingled in a frighteningly pleasant way and he could still feel the warm breath of a whispered last goodbye in his ear.
Perhaps Spot shouldn't have smiled as he left the strain station. His friend had just kissed him before hopping on a train to New Mexico. That didn't stop him from doing though. Spot was sure he hadn't seen the last of Jack Kelly yet. He had to repay him for that kiss after all.