Just Answer the Damned Question

July 19, 1898

Spot ambled down the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He whistled while he walked, nodding every now and then to a pretty looking lady or a girl with a twinkle in her eyes. The sun was shining down on him as he made his way through streets that had long-since become familiar, happy with life. A dog growled at him from an alley and Spot gave it a wide berth.

He swung right at the next corner and smiled as he saw the tall sign announcing the location of the News Boys' Lodging House. Spot smiled at the sight of it. It had been too long since he had last been here, since before he became leader, and Spot found that he had missed the place. Or maybe it was because it reminded him of Race and that was what Spot had been missing.

The smile slipped from his face as he thought about how little he had been seeing the other boy lately. It would be different if Race lived in Brooklyn, then it wouldn't matter than Spot hardly had a moment to spare. But Race living with him would complicate things endlessly and, even as hardheaded as he was, Spot had to admit that it was best for them to be apart.

Spot pulled one hand out of his pocket, taking out a shooter and admiring the way the sunlight gleamed off of its slick surface. He glanced left and right, then tugged out his slingshot and aimed. The twang of the elastic snapping forward gave him almost as much of a thrill as the thump of the marble against the wooden sign. It had hit in the dead center of the second "o" and Spot decided to take that as a good omen.

Slipping the slingshot back into his pocket, he made his way across the street and up the steps. Blink was sunning himself at the top of them, his head tilted back and his eye closed. Spot gently kicked at his leg. "Hey ya, Blink."

Blink cracked his eye open and squinted at Spot. "Ain't seen your puss around here lately."

"Busy," Spot answered proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Race mentioned something about you taking over things in Brooklyn," Blink replied as he closed his eye. "Guess I better watch myself around you now that you're big time." He yawned widely.

Spot chuckled. "I see I've got you shaking in your boots." Blink smiled without opening his eye and Spot's lips curved up in response. "Race around?" he asked casually.

"Naw."

A twinge of irritation shot through him. "Know where he is?"

Blink shook his head. "Haven't a clue. Jack might, though. He's up on the roof." Blink jerked a thumb upward. "Why don't you go and bother him? I'm relaxing."

Spot glanced upwards, eyes narrowing in the sun's glare then nodded to himself. "I hope you burn," he replied good naturedly as he reached for the door.

He pushed through and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. Spot looked around the room causally and lifted his eyebrows when he saw Crutchy behind the desk instead of Kloppman. He touched the brim of his cap and the other boy flushed with pride and waved Spot up the stairs.

Spot hitched up his britches and then started for the stairs. He scratched his chin as he climbed towards the roof. It was just as well that Race wasn't around. Spot had a few questions he had been meaning to ask Jack and not a one of them would go over well with Race. He smiled to himself, pleased to have a chance to get a few things sorted out with Jacky-boy without anyone taking note of the fact.

There was a boy that Spot didn't know lounging at the bunkroom landing. The boy gave Spot a considering look and Spot cocked his chin up in response, fingering the head of his cane. He sucked on his teeth as he neared and the boy wisely decided to break the stare first, his eyes lowered respectfully. That put Spot in a fine mood and he began to whistle as he rounded the last flight of steps, pushed open the door, and came out onto the roof.

Jack was leaning against the railing of the far wall, a half-smoked cigarette dangling in his fingers. He turned his head and smiled in acknowledgement. "Well look at what the cat dragged in."

"Nice seeing you too," Spot returned. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and made a show of ambling on over to where Jack was standing.

Jack spit in one hand and held it out; Spot did the same. They shook, eyes locked and then Jack gave one of his lopsided grins. "Been too long," he said as he released Spot's hand.

"That it has." Spot shifted so that he was standing side by side with Jack, looking out across the city. "How things been with you lot?"

Jack raised the cigarette to his lips and took a long draw. He let the smoke stay inside his mouth for a moment and then exhaled slowly, making a neat circle. With a lift of a shoulder, he said, "Same as they always are." He gave Spot a sly look. "I hear things are looking up for you, though."

Spot shrugged nonchalantly. "Could say that." His hand slipped into his pocket and removed a packet of cigarettes. He took one out with his lips and then struck a match on the side of the railing. Spot took a deep drag and then blew the smoke out as slowly as Jack had.

"Race says that you stopped selling with him," Jack commented out of the blue.

With his attention still focused on the view, Spot answered, "Had to. There are things in Brooklyn proper that need my attention. Can't go out to Sheepshead when someone might need me nearer to home."

Jack nodded and leaned back. "Makes sense." He took off that ridiculous cowboy hat of his and fanned himself with it. "Wish Race could be brought around to your way of thinking."

Spot chuckled. "It would take an act of god to get Race out of Sheepshead." He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, trying to think of a good way to slip in the questions he wanted to ask without Jack thinking too hard about it. There was something about Jack and Race's relationship that rankled Spot. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by Jack.

"Look, you and Race," Jack paused, gripping his hands on the railing. "Well, the two of you are mighty friendly."

Deciding that he didn't care for Jack's tone, Spot instantly clamed up. "Yeah."

Jack eyed him shrewdly. "But now that you ain't selling together any more, well, that friendship is bound to lessen."

"Is it?"

"Facts are facts, Spot." Jack took a pull on his cigarette. "You're in Brooklyn doing whatever it is you do and Race, Race is in Sheepshead wasting his time on the ponies."

"Ain't that the truth," Spot muttered.

Jack continued as if Spot hadn't spoken. "The pair of you live a fair ways apart and you at least will have more than enough to keep you busy when you ain't selling." Jack lifted a shoulder. "Plain as day that you ain't going to be able to stay close."

Spot gave him a superior look. "That's where you're wrong."

"Am I?" Jack grinned. "Well, we'll see about that."

"What's it matter to you anyway?" Spot demanded, getting hot under the collar at the obvious pleasure Jack was getting from thinking that Spot wouldn't be in Race's life much longer. Jack just gave him a grin. Spot thought about slugging him then and there, but decided that smoking his cigarette was the better option.

After a space of silence, Jack said, "Racetrack, he's a close friend of mine," in a way that Spot would have to be a fool not to understand.

Spot felt his temper shoot up again and actually got as far as balling his hand in a fist before he remember that he was playing it cool. "Funny, I never would have thought that," he replied in a similar tone.

Jack gritted his teeth. "Now that the two of you ain't going to be seeing each other so often, I'm sure that things will go back to the way they were."

At that Spot smirked. Go back to the way they were, hum? That meant that Jack had noticed things had changed. He pushed his cap back on his head and ground out his cigarette. "Of course not." Spot said with a half-joking smile and tossed the butt at Jack who swatted it out of the air. Jack opened his mouth but Spot didn't want to hear whatever it was he was going to say, so he reached out and pushed Jack in the chest with the palm of his hand. "I'm Spot Conlon and once I touch something it ain't ever the same again."

"That's a load of crap if ever I heard one."

Spot lifted his eyebrows. "I've said all I'm going to on the subject."

"Ain't that nice," Jack said sourly.

"You know when Race will be back?"

Jack studied the horizon. "No clue."

Spot pursed his lips. Jacky-boy didn't want to play with him anymore now that his poor little feelings were hurt. He laughed to himself and shook his head.

"What's got you in such a mood?" Jack groused.

"You."

Jack made a face. "I don't know what Race sees in you."

"Sure you do." Spot hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. "That's why you like me yourself."

"Says you."

"Says anyone with eyes."

Jack snorted. "That's some ego you got there, Spot." He flicked his cigarette out over the edge and then turned and began to study Spot intently.

Spot watched him warily, not liking the look in the other boy's eyes. "I've earned it," he said lightly.

"That's right, you're leader of Brooklyn now. Very busy and important. Far too busy to be coming around here."

Spot snorted. "You wish."

Jack gave him a confident smile. "You wait and see. Things will pick up over the bridge. You'll have troubles you never dreamed of. People will need you to do more things than twenty fully grown men could handle. And one day you'll look up and Race will be long gone."

Doubt began to roil in Spot's belly and he clamped down on it forcefully. He shook his head. "Pretty as that picture is, it ain't gonna happen."

Jack put one finger along the side of his nose and winked. Spot decided that he had never seen anything as ridiculous in his life. He wanted to wipe that knowing look right off of Jack's face. He shifted closer and leaned into Jack's space. Jack didn't move a muscle.

"You think you got this all figured out," Spot sneered, "but you don't know nothing. Me, I always get what I want."

"And Race is what you want?" Jack's eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy.

"I told you, I ain't talking to you about Race." He moved closer still.

Jack licked his lips and began to open his mouth. Spot sure as hell didn't want to hear whatever it was Jack had on his mind. He moved quickly, grabbing hold of the front of Jack's vest and dragging him towards him. Before Jack could think to object, Spot pressed his lips against Jack's in a brutal kiss. He moved his mouth over Jack's and Jack responded eagerly.

With a satisfied grunt, Spot shoved Jack away. He took in the other boy's dazed expression and flushed cheeks. Then he dashed the back of his hand across his mouth, turned his head to the side and spit. "I always figured you for a queer."

Jack's features darkened and his hands clenched at his sides. He looked like he was spoiling for a fight and Spot wouldn't have minded one bit to give him one. But at the moment when it seemed like Jack would swing, the door to the stairs opened.

"Hey, Jack," Race called out as he walked into the fresh air, slightly dazzled by the sunlight. "Blink said you wanted to see me." He squinted as his eyes adjusted and then paused midstep at the tableau in front of him. "Ah hell," he muttered.

Jack was on the roof, just like Blink had said, and so was Spot, who Blink had failed to mention. Well, that explained the cheeky grin on Blink's face when he had told Race to head on up to the roof. Race shook his head and promised himself that he would pay Blink back. After he defused whatever was going on up here, that was.

Both Spot and Jack looked like they were on the verge of coming to blows, which was never good, but the way they were eyeing him like he was some sort of a prize made things ten times worse. Race gave them both a head nod and began to make his way towards them, his mind racing.

The boys followed his progress with a focus that unnerved him and made Race wish he could turn on his heel and head right back down those stairs. He watched as Spot shot Jack a superior glance which Jack returned with a glare before flashing Race a blinding grin. Ah hell, indeed. This wasn't going to end pretty. Race had been in situations like this before, more times than he cared to admit, but it had always been two girls vying for his attention, not two of his friends. Still, something told him that the fact that he was close with the boys wouldn't help matters any.

When he was still a good ways away from them, Race stopped and pulled his cap off. He began to fan himself, though the day hardly warranted it, and smiled cheerfully at the pair. They gave him wide smiles of their own before glowering at each other. Race slapped his cap back on and wondered how the hell he was going to get out of this with his skin intact.

"Beautiful weather we've been having, ain't it?" he offered feebly.

Spot's smile vanished faster than fog on a hot morning. "I trek all the way out here and you great me with some pap about the weather?" Jack chuckled and Spot causally slapped the side of his face. "Shut up."

Jack growled, his eyes narrowing to slits. He grabbed hold of Spot's shoulder and spun him around to face him, jabbing a finger an inch from Spot's face. "Never do that again."

Spot brushed Jack's hand away like he was swatting a fly. "Or what, Jacky-boy?"

Race hurriedly stepped in between them. "Hey now, fellas, there's no reason to be up in arms." He looked from one to the other and forced a grin. "Spot's right, he's come a long way and I didn't even greet him." Jack snorted in disgust. "And I'm sure he didn't come all this way for nothing," Race plowed on. "Now Spot, Jack's got something he needs to tell me, so how about you go on down and wait for me on the stoop and I'll be there as soon as Jack and I are finished."

"The hell I will," Spot spat.

"What, afraid to leave him alone with me?" Jack jeered.

Race licked his lips and wished to god he wasn't in the middle of this. "Look," he said slowly, "I don't know what's got the pair of you acting like a couple of jackasses, but I don't want any part of it. So just drop it or I'm going back to the bunkroom and seeing if Dutchy's up of a game of poker."

Spot made a face and Jack grimaced, but they nodded and Race decided to leave it at that. "So, what did you need me for?" he asked Jack again.

Jack sucked on his teeth and lifted a hand. "Not much, really. Couple of the boys want to go over to Meda's tomorrow night and I was thinking you might be interested in joining us."

Race's mood brightened dramatically. "You bet I would," he eagerly agreed.

Jack gave him a genuine smile. "Thought you would say that." He stepped closer and slung his arm around Race's shoulders. Race felt the smile slip from his face as he tried to think of a polite way to disentangle himself from Jack's hold.

"Too bad you ain't gonna be able to make it." Spot took that moment to grab a share of Race's attention for himself. "You promised Mac you would come on by for a friendly game."

Race cleared his throat and gave Jack a sheepish look. "Must have slipped my mind." He gave Jack's hand a quick squeeze and then slipped out from under his arm. "I guess I'm going to have to give it a miss."

Spot smirked at Jack, which didn't help improve the look on the taller boy's face. Jack stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, which he slid between his lips and quickly lit. "No big deal." His eyes made lies out of the words. "It ain't like I won't see you anyway."

Spot's smile lost some of its edge and Race had to disguise his laugh as a cough. "Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?" Jack eyed Spot distastefully and grudgingly said that it was. Race rubbed his forehead. "All right then. I'm going to head on down to Tibby's now. Spot, you want to join me?" Spot gave him a sharp nod. "Fine. Jack, I'll see you when I get back."

Jack made a face. "Be in before dark, Kloppman is getting strict."

Race suppressed a sigh. Did Jack think he was some baby who didn't know his way around? Not wanting to aggravate him, Race nodded. Then he pointed towards the stairs. "After you," he told Spot.

Spot was silent all the way out of the building and halfway down the block. Then he turned to Race and glared at him. "What's with you and Jack?" he hissed.

Race gave him a look. "I was planning on asking you the same damned thing."

"Never a straight answer with you, is there?"

"Spot, I am not in the mood. If you want to pick a fight, just go back on into the lodging house and I'm sure you'll find Jack willing to oblige you."

Spot fingered the head of his cane and glared at Race. "I want to know where things stand with the two of you."

Letting out a long breath, Race tried to stay level headed. "Jack's my friend. Same as any of the boys." It wasn't exactly the truth, but the look on Spot's face told him that now was not a time for full discloser.

"Did you know he," Spot glanced up and down the street and then leaned closer, "likes to kiss boys."

Race laughed. "You say that like you don't enjoy it too."

Spot's lip curled distastefully. "He is soft on you."

Jesus, Joseph and Mary, this was not what Race wanted to deal with right now. Hell, this was not what he wanted to deal with ever. He made a dissatisfied noise. "So what if he is?"

"Race," Spot said warningly but Race cut him off.

"I don't really give a damn about Jack right now. I'm with you, ain't I?" he slung an arm around Spot's shoulders, knowing full well that that the chuck under the chin that normally followed that statement wouldn't go over well at all. The words worked their charm without it though and Spot went from looking like a thunderhead to looking fairly pleased with himself.

"You sure you want to go to Tibby's?" Spot asked slyly, glancing at Race sidelong. Race shrugged. He didn't care one way or the other. "Then how about you and me go to this place that I know. I can promise you you'll enjoy it more than you would a trip to the diner."

Race grinned. Spot wanted to play and that suited him just fine.

Spot crossed the street and took an immediate left. He pulled free his cane and relished the sound of it clinking against the cobblestones with each step he took. A glance over his shoulder told him that Race was still with him, though his expression meant that the other boy was not pleased with the lack of notice before they changed direction. Spot gave him a smug smile in return and nearly chortled at the look he got in return.

Serves him right, Spot thought a touch bitterly. He was no fool; he knew when something wasn't coming up the way it ought to, and whole scene with Jack had stunk like last week's dog droppings. Spot skirted around a man slumped against a wall and tried to sort out what exactly was bothering him.

Race made a disgusted noise and stepped over the drunk's sprawled legs. "Where the hell are you taking me?"

Spot didn't bother answering. He didn't see the point. They would be there soon enough and besides, it wasn't the destination that mattered. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the street, looking for the lopsided awning that marked the entrance to the alley. He spotted it a quarter of the way down and made for it eagerly.

His brow wrinkled as he remembered the way that Jack had beamed at Race, the way his hands had lingered on Race's shoulders. Jack-boy was very interested in Race and Spot would be damned if he let someone else edge in on something he'd been working on for years. A glance over his shoulder showed him that Race was unenthusiastically picking his way through the garbage that lined the alley.

"Through here," he said, shoving aside a lose plank with a grunt and pushing open the door.

"This ain't exactly what I was expecting," Race commented as he eyed the dimly lit interior.

"The atmosphere isn't why I brought you here," Spot replied smoothly, turning towards him.

Race gave him a skeptical look and opened his mouth; Spot silenced him by reaching down and cupping Race between the legs. Race's eyes went glassy as Spot gave him a squeeze. Spot smirked, pleased with himself and Race's reaction. He leaned forward slowly, giving Race plenty of time to anticipate his next move. His lips brushed gently across Race's mouth then pressed against them hard enough to bruise.

A groan slipped out of Race as he fisted his hands in Spot's shirt. "I like you're thinking," he panted.

"You're gonna love this," Spot promised as he began to undo the fastenings on Race's britches.

So far he had kept things simple between them, limiting their contact to kissing and the like. But from what Spot had seen today, he knew he had to up the stakes. He slipped his hand down the front of Race's smalls and heard him mutter a curse. Spot's fingers curled around Race and slid slowly up to the tip of him. Race's breath escaped him in a ragged moan.

"Christ," he muttered, his eyes going half lidded.

Race moved forward, his mouth slamming into Spot's as Spot began to stroke him. His lips ate at Spot's mouth, then down across his jaw to his neck and Spot felt himself straining against the fabric of his own britches. He wished that Race would reach out and touch him, wanting desperately to know what Race's hands would feel like on his naked flesh. Spot closed his eyes and pictured Race running those long fingers of his across Spot's hips and circling around him. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and began to work Race faster.

Race was making a soft keening sound, his head was tossed back and his hands were balled into fists at his side. He began to buck into Spot's hand and Spot knew it was only a matter of time before things came to a close. Spot watched his face, trying to memorize the details, the way that Race's eyes shined and the flush that covered his cheeks.

"Christ," Race said again, much more forcefully, and then his back arched and a sticky warmth coated Spot's hand.

Spot leaned in close and whispered in Race's ear,"No, just me," Spot smiled smugly. Just trying living up to that, Jacky-boy, he thought, brimming over with satisfaction.