We're Having A Heat Wave
By Sweet Anne, Anne, Kelly…whatever you know me by, lol
Disclaimer: *sighs* Would I need to write fanfiction if I owned Newsies? *pauses*…LMAO, if I owned Newsies, the movie would a huge slashfest. AND I'd still write fanfiction. Be grateful I own nothing, m'dear.
AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!It took a VERY long time, but I sorta like how it came out. Sorry if you don't, lol. Oh yeah…one more thing: Race and Spot have major cases of tourretes (Spelling?), apparently, LMAO!!
Summary: Matchmaker. Matchmaker. Make me a match.
Chapter four: Racetrack
Ok, I swear. This'll take about five seconds if you're quick.
Describe me.
Yeah, you heard me. I want you to describe me, Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins. I know for a fact that sarcastic is among the adjectives you're using right now.
But would you put 'matchmaker' on that list?
No? Didn't think you would. It's true though. Just give me a hotline and BOOM, I'm one of those creepy ladies hooking people up over the phone. Only I have a bit of extra equipment below the belt, so I'd be one of those creepy guys encouraging make-out fests.
Don't believe me on the matchmaker thing?
Have I mentioned that I hate skeptics? And that I have connections with the mob.
Ha, only playing. About the skeptic thing, I mean. Knowing that you don't believe me just gives me the motivation needed to prove myself. The mob thing's true.
I'm Italian, for Christ's sake!!
ANYWAY…getting people together is one of the things I do best. Ask my sister. Or my sister's husband. Who got them together? Hmm?? I'll give you three guesses.
I'm fine with hooking relatives up with my ex-teachers, coworkers, bosses, etc. It's perfectly ok with me because I can hit the dusty trail and don't have to watch to see if it's a happy connection or the makings of World War 3.
That's why I never try to get any of my friends together. I don't like having to stay and watch. It really bothers me if I'm wrong. Case and point: Snoddy and Itey.
Yeesh, that was hell if I ever knew it. You wouldn't believe the cursing Itey is capable of, in both English and Italian. I mean, he's small, you know. And he looks seemingly innocent.
Innocent, my ass. When you hear something like 'Sto andando castrarlo, voi pollone scopante del rubinetto' [1] coming from someone's mouth, you know they aren't innocent.
I kind of made an exception to my own rule today. I got involved and tried to get two of my friends together. I have yet to hear from either one of them. I'm not even sure if they're alive...or if they're plotting my demise for throwing the two of them together.
Yeah, praying for me would be appreciated.
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I was born in Italy. If you didn't know, it's kinda warm there. It's warmer in the big cities, like Rome [2], which is where I grew up. I absolutely loved the heat, but was incredibly disappointed when we moved here about nine years ago. It's cold most of the time, even in the summer. Well, cold compared to Rome.
That's why I'm loving the heat wave. Every other person on this campus is dying from the heat, but I feel right at home.
I guess that would explain why I don't mind doing laundry on a day like today. Not that I wanted to do laundry. I'm pretty pissed that I'm stuck in the laundry room when I could be gambling or something…but I'd rather not be covered in mud, you know?
Just to save time, I'll give you the kindergarten version of the story: Jack was playing football. I was walking by. He goes for a pass, doesn't realize I'm there, and makes us both topple over by ramming into me backwards. And, since I broke his fall, I'm the one covered in mud.
I figured that I'd just throw the rest of my dirty clothes in so that I wouldn't have to do it in about…well, I'm a college boy…so in about another month.
Have I mentioned that it's a health hazard entering my dorm room without knocking?
Well…sometimes it's fine. I just grab what I need and I'm gone.
Today, of course, had to be one of the days where walking into the dorm room is like entering a poorly directed porn flick.
I'm serious!!
Snoddy might be quiet, but it's a major turn-on for a lot of sorority girls. And a lot of frat boys. He almost always has one in our room, having…yeah…you know.
And who's the lucky guy who gets to walk in on it?? Come on. You aren't stupid. Take a guess.
Yeah, me.
I have absolutely nothing against Snoddy. He's a great guy. But nobody, and I mean NOBODY, should have to walk in on him giving a striptease to some half-naked blonde. Guy. Half-naked blonde guy.
I didn't even go for my laundry. I just stared for a second, too shocked to make any move for the door. I hate walking in on stuff like this!
"Hey Race!!" Snoddy said once he noticed I was there. His jaw was clenched. I could tell without even looking. There was just that sound in his voice that told me he was pissed and holding back anger only because of the guy he was with.
"Uh…yeah, um…I was…just leaving," I stammered, turning to leave. You would not believe how much I wanted to escape that room.
"Nice to know," The blonde said from his place on the bed. I stopped to glare at him, but that only made Snoddy walk towards me, closing the door in my face. I heard the click of the lock and silently cursed.
Apparently I was spending the day in the laundry room.
And that brings us to now. With me sitting on the washer, clad only in a pink towel wrapped around my waist.
This would be a good time to remind you all, in case you have A.D.D. or something that makes you forget things easily and quickly, that I live with ALL guys. Every single person in this building is filled to the brink with testosterone.
With that said, WHY THE HELL ARE ALL THE TOWELS IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM PINK?!?!?! Just answer me that!!! In short, understandable sentences that would make sense to a five year old or, in this case, a pissed off Italian, explain why I suddenly feel like I've entered one of those Barbie Dream House things that my sister used to play with.
Deep breaths, Race…
VERY deep breaths…….
Ok…I'm good. I just…have a phobia of pink. Which, if you must know, is the result of having a pink bedroom for the first ten years of my life. All thanks to the doctor who performed my mom's ultrasound. The assfucker said I was a girl. Which I CLEARLY am not, since I have yet to have my period and have no means of getting pregnant. That I know of.
Who knows anymore with modern day Science?
Back to the towels. Fuck those towels. And fuck Skittery, who is completely and totally to blame for their sudden change in color. That evil, demonic brunette had left his pink undershirt thingie in the washer. Add white towels and what do you get??
Come on!! Say it with me, now.
PINK towels.
You have no idea how much this pissed me off. I mean, I could deal with this normally by just blowing it off, you know? Well, when you're caked in mud, stripping down is a really good idea, as long as the towels available aren't…pink.
And that really did piss me off.
Extremely.
See, I ended up storming across the campus in only that shred of fabric that was dyed almost the exact same color of a Barbie doll.
It didn't seem as bad as I thought it'd be. At least not the first half of my walk.
See, the second I got across the grass plot outside of the laundry room, I entered back into the lawn in front of the dorms. Which, since it's about forty million degrees above normal temperature, meant that half the campus would be on, or in the general area of, that lawn.
The two people that I saw first were Skittery and Snitch, both of whom were sitting in a puddle of mud and water, for God knows what reason. They, at least, had had the smarts to set up a sprinkler. And, though I can guarantee that Snitch would deny it, I could see the chemistry between them. So frickin perfect for each other.
When Snitch noticed me, however, he decided to point and laugh, which led to Skittery following suit and laughing his own ass off. And just when I was thinking happy thoughts about them, too!! Fuckers.
But, you know what? I, being as wonderful as I am, got my sweet, sweet revenge. That sprinkler is SO totally on my side.
No…I was not just talking about being allies with a sprinkler…
…Anyway…seeing as my clothing was either in a washing machine or being held captive by my roommate and Malibu Barbie (minus the plastic boobs,) my only option was to try and find someone who I could bum clothing off of. Thus leading me back onto the third floor of the brick monstrosity I call home.
At least somebody (besides the sprinkler) is on my side. See…there are nameplates outside each of the dorm, telling me exactly who is in each room. And, seeing that I'm about, oh…hmm…a foot or so shorter then most of the guys here, knowing exactly who is in the room makes it a little less embarrassing when I ask to borrow a pair of pants.
I quickly scanned the first nameplate, my nose scrunching at the idea of borrowing clothing from Oscar Delancey. I'd rather die…or wear a pink towel. Whichever. They're both equally painful.
The second nameplate got a similar reaction. A) Snitch was busy on the lawn with his "best friend" and B) I'm pretty sure Striker was the blonde in my dorm room…so nothing really productive would come from knocking on that door.
Door three was a lot more promising, though I was a little…how shall I put this…wary of knocking because of the noises being emitted from inside. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that combination of sniffles and sighs usually means crying.
But…Spot???
I didn't really have much of a choice, though. He's probably the only male on the entire campus that was my height and relatively my size. Biting my lip for a second, I raised my hand slowly before finally pounding it against the wooden door.
It took a second, in which time I heard rustling of something (tissues, I think) and then the thick, Brooklyn accent of Spot Conlon reached my ears, "Get the fuck away from me!"
I smirked, almost positive that I had been wrong about the crying. He sounded normal…in that I'll-Kill-The-World kind of way, "Spot, open up. I just want to get in your pants…"
The door swung open before I had finished the sentence and it took me a second to realize exactly where I had left that sentence hanging, "…drawer."
"Nice towel. Pink's definitely your color, Higgins," Spot muttered, walking back across the room and sitting in a black beanbag chair in front of a small TV.
"Thanks. I always thought I looked better in blue, but anything for you, babe," I smiled when he turned around to glare at me. At least I had his attention.
"What do you want?" He asked, pausing the video that, for the first time, I noticed had been playing. The screen was paused on two little boys, one with an oversized cowboy hat and the other hiding his eyes behind his sandy blonde mushroom cut.
"Is that you?" I asked, distracted by the image on the screen. Why did the other boy seem so frickin familiar??
"What the hell do you care?" Spot snapped, rubbing underneath his eye. I sighed and went over to raid his dresser. If he were going to be an ass, then I'd ignore him and ransack his stuff.
Ok…jeans…a size too baggy, but good enough. Spot was a moron who thought he could hide the fact that he had a bony ass by wearing baggy pants. It just made him look skinnier. Hmm…nice, black Rancid T-shirt. Not bad, kid. I approve. I almost laughed when I hit the top drawer, pulling out a pair of boxers with cowboys on them.
"Ok, dude, what the hell are these??"
Spot turned again, his eyes widening slightly before glazing over with anger, "Get the fuck out of my drawers!!" I only rolled my eyes. It's not like I've never taken his clothes before. We've been friends since we hit senior year of high school.
"Don't look, ok? I'm taking off the towel," I murmured. I swear I heard Spot mutter some rude comment under his breath as he turned his movie back on, but it's not like that's a first, so I ignored it, slipping on the boxers and the rest of the clothes I took.
"You done stealing my clothes yet?" Spot asked, pausing his video again to turn around. He knew I was dressed, so it wasn't a big deal.
"I'll give them back eventually."
"Yeah, you'll leave them to me in your will," He grumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly.
"No!! You'll get them before I graduate," I said with a chuckle. He smiled, sort of, though, in doing so, I realized how big the bags under his eyes were. And how wet his cheeks looked. My brow furrowed as my thoughts went from Spot, to the paused video and then to the cowboy boxers I had on.
"Um…Spot…who are the boys on the tape?"
I heard his breath catch, the only sign of his weakness, and then he pulled over that iron curtain once again, "None of your fucking business!"
I glanced at the screen again and it finally clicked, "I didn't know you and Cowboy were friends."
That caught him off guard, for whatever reason, and I saw him bite his lip, lowering his eyes to the ground, "Yeah…we were best friends."
Explained a little…except the boxers. Unless I was going to draw EXTREME conclusions and say Spot was madly in love with Jack, the boxers were a bit too odd.
"What happened?" I asked slowly, not really sure if I should even be asking that question. The pain that flashed in Spot's eyes told me I shouldn't have poked the subject with a thirty-foot pole.
"Sophomore year, I told him I was gay. He was ok with it, I guess. I could tell that he was uncomfortable changing in the locker room with me…but you deal with stuff like that, you know?" He looked up at me, his eyes holding an almost innocent longing for comfort. Comfort I honestly couldn't give.
"No, I don't know," I whispered, regretting it immediately. I saw as the innocence in his eyes was flooded with anger. I almost physically winced.
"You know what? Forget it. I don't know why the hell I was going to tell you this anyway!" He said, standing from his beanbag chair and walking towards the door. I reached out and caught his arm before he touched the knob.
"Wait…I want to hear, ok? I'm sorry…" I felt his eyes studying me, but I didn't have the balls to look up. Normal Spot is pretty scary. I didn't need Interrogation Spot on my back.
"Whatever…" He said finally, the edge in his voice almost disappearing.
"Spot, what happened? I met you in senior year and you and him weren't even talking to one another, let alone best friends."
A smile crossed Spot's lips. A dark, sad one that held emotions I didn't even want to name. It was a truly scary sight, "What happened? Ha…junior year I fell in love for the first time. And you know who the lucky guy was? Hmm??" I knew the answer, but didn't say a word. He looked at me expectantly, though, and I got the chills from his icy stare, "Jack. I fell madly in love with my best friend. And, you know, I thought I could hide it. From him. From my friends. I think I even tried to hide it from myself. Bury it in the deepest confines of my mind.
"It didn't work. Ironically enough, he was the one that made things explode between us.
"There was a party at some jock's house. I was only there because of the band. They were playing stuff like Rancid and AFI…so I went. Jack…Jack had just broken up with his girlfriend. Michelle, I think. Who gives a fuck, anyway? He was actually pretty bummed out about it. She had been cheating on him. So…he tried drowning his sorrows in alcohol, which only led to me keeping his hair out of face as he threw up.
"I don't remember it, really. Everything just turned into a blur of heat and skin, you know? I heard "This Time Imperfect" playing as he first leaned over to kiss me, and then it all just faded away. But, the next morning, Jack and I woke up…together…on the floor of this jock's bathroom. And he freaked out…to the point of never talking to me again," Spot laughed sadly, almost angrily, before turning his back to me entirely and switching the video back on.
"How old are you today, Jack?" Said a woman behind the camera. The little boy in the oversized cowboy hat grinned, showing the holes of a fallen front tooth.
"Mommy, you know how old I am!!" He said, practically beaming.
"Does Gabriel know?" His mother asked, turning the camera to the little boy hiding behind his hair.
"Gabe!!" Jack squealed, nearly pouncing on the other boy, wrapping his small arms around Gabe in a fierce embrace.
"Jack…Jack, I can't breathe," Gabe said, giggling softly as Jack looked at him, eyes wide.
"Mommy…mommy!! Look!! I'm five years old!!" Jack held up four fingers, which only made Gabe laugh.
"Yes, you are, sweetie," His mom said, focusing the camera on Gabe, who was smiling fondly at Jack.
"Gabe, did you know…did you know that that's a cam-in-a?? We're gonna be on TV!!" Both boys gazed at the lens, mesmerized. Then, for no reason besides the obvious friendship between them, Jack kissed Gabe forcefully on the cheek, the two ending on the ground, giggling.
"Spot…I'm sorry about what happened. I mean…it wasn't right for him to do that to you," I said, not really knowing if I should or not. It's just what I felt needed to be said.
"I'm not sorry for what happened! Why would I be?? At least I have a reason to tag to him hating me!" Spot said, ejected the videotape and tossing it on his bed.
"Spot…he doesn't hate you. I mean…you don't just hate your best friend over something like that."
"How the hell would you know, Higgins?? You didn't even move here until senior year, after all of this was over. After everyone conveniently forgot that Jack and I had ever been friends. You never saw me dealing with it. You didn't have to comfort me, so just…" He sighed, rubbing his eyes and sniffling, "…just fuck off."
"Spot, give me a chance to make this right, ok? Please??" I said softly, unable to bear watching him suffer anymore. As much as Spot was an asshole, he was still my friend. My friend who was currently broken-hearted. And I needed to help him.
Therefore switching into matchmaker-mode. Ah, how dangerous I am when I go into full-blown Fiddler-on-the-Roof persona.
"Race…just go away. You can't help something that's he's deemed dead for four years."
I sighed, walking towards the window and gazing out at the lawn. The lawn…where Skittery (gay) and Snitch ("straight" HAHA) were making out, completely oblivious as I yelled out the window.
Turning back to Spot, who, despite himself, was looking amused, I said, "Ok…look at those two down there. They have got to be the most obvious soul mates on this planet. They've been that way since before college. But they're only just realizing it. And do you want to know why??
"Because they were friends. They were afraid of breaking their friendship, which, I can almost guarantee, is the reason Jack freaked out. Besides…half the stuff you do when you're drunk is really what you want, but are too afraid to do when you're sober." I crossed my arms over my chest, smiling smugly and singing "We Are The Champions" in my head.
"What are you suggesting, exactly?" Spot asked, slowly lowering his gaze back to the floor.
"Hold on…let me borrow your phone," I said, grabbing it off his bed before he had time to even furrow his brow. I quickly dialed Jack's cell phone number, and grinned when he picked up.
"'ello?" He said. I choked back laughter because he, like Spot, sounded like he'd been crying.
"Hey. It's Race…can you do me a favor and meet me in the…laundry room? I need to talk to you for a second."
I smiled triumphantly when he said he'd be there in a few minutes.
"Um…Race…" Spot said, rubbing his knuckles nervously…I think. Do NOT kill the matchmaker, Spot!!
"Come on. You have a date with destiny, buddy-boy!"
"Whoa…dude, you can't just drop me off in the laundry room with a guy who hasn't spoken to me in four years and expect everything to be ok!!"
I smiled at him. Ah, he underestimates my powers, "Yeah I can."
~
"Race, I refuse to go in there," Spot hissed, literally pulling me away from the laundry room door. I laughed, pushing him towards the door, towards Jack. Towards whatever would make him happy. Whatever would make him stop moping, for Christ's sake!
"Spot, I swear to God! If you don't go in that room now, I'll personally beat your ass so the morgue won't even be able to use your teeth to identify you," I smiled after saying it, just to make it all the creepier. It sounded like he whimpered (is that why he's called Spot?) before positioning himself in front of the door. I sighed, turned the knob, and pushed him inside.
"Ok, you two…make up or I'll kill you both, ok? OK!" I said, gazing amusedly at the shocked expressions on both of their faces. I locked the door from the outside, laughing silently to myself. They were SO going to end up christening the laundry room tonight!
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I think it was four hours before I saw Spot again. I was reading in the library when he wandered in, his shirt backwards and his eyes glazed over like he was sleepwalking. "Hey Spot," I said, setting down my book and waving him over to my table. I don't really think he knew who I was at that moment. He blinked a few times before even speaking."Race…hi," He said, almost like it was a question. And the look of his eyes wasn't one of a sleepwalker. He definitely was NOT tired.
"You ok?" I asked, laughing silently to myself.
"I feel like I'm airing on walk."
"Oh, ok. So everything's normal. Things better with Jack?"
"Jack? Oh…Jack. He's back in my room. Hurt his leg…doing laundry."
Man, do those two do "laundry" a lot. And, since that heat wave hit, I refuse to go into that room. I send all my clothes to my mother, thank you very much.
Eh…at least I was right about them. Though I refuse to sing Matchmaker unless I get paid.
End
Next Chapter: Um…I think Itey. If I continue this, it'll be Itey. I' not sure because A) It's no longer summer and B) I have a new fic I'm dying to write, lol.
Anne: *singing* Matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match!!!!"
Race: *glowers* Not funny.
Spot: (after removing his tongue from Jack's throat) It's funny, kid. Just deal with it or she'll hurt you.
Anne: *grins and hands Spot a cookie* Damn right I'll hurt him…heehee
Race: Um…cheesecake?
[1] Sto andando castrarlo, voi pollone scopante del rubinetto means *giggles insanely* 'I'm going to castrate you, you fucking cock sucker.' I know no Italian and used a translator for this, so don't blame me if I'm wrong. It's funny reglardless *hyperventilates*
[2] I'm saying this based off of a weather report I watched for Rome. It was warmer then the smaller cities, so that's the basis. AND Rome is way warmer then here, so I can say that it's hot there, at least. Don't shoot me if I'm wrong
SOs
Imaginelet: *grins* You make me a happy child. I love that line, too. I dunno…I just like imaging my little newsies talking to each other like that, heehee. LOL, I hope you're as excited about this chapter as you were with the last one ^ _____ ^
Gothic Author: *drops to her knees and begs* Forgiveth me!! I beg for it!! Thistle asked for Spot and Jack, so I had to write it. She's my friend, lol. If it means anything…go read Prefer It That Way, lol. That's YOUR Race/Spot
^ ______ ^
Thistle: See!! I did it, heehe!! I finally got this chapter out!!! I hope you like it. Not very much Spot/Jack action, but it's ok, right? Right?!?! I hope so…I wrote it for you dearie, so I hope you at least aren't going to kill me for it, lol.
Stage: *pets Dutchy in a non-perverted way* I feel bad for him, too, lol. And Specs. Diabetic!Specs is adorable, though, right? Heehee. And fluffy endings are just…an unwritten rule for this fic, lol.
Artemis-chan of Redwing: It was a good kind of depression, though, right?? Heehee, I think so. Made the ending nicer. I LOVE Diabetic!Specs. He just makes me smile!! And Denial!Snitch can be yours for the low, low price of one dollar…that is, if you can separate him and Skitts. They've been locked in their dorm room for WAY too long, LMAO!!
Studentnumber24601: *grins* Dutchy is quite silly, now isn't he. I wouldn't be able to resist ANY newsie dipped in sprinkles. "Ah, yes. I'd like a fudgesicle and a Spot-fudge sundae, thanks." Heehee, I'm such a dork. But Diabetic!Specs is my baby, so I'm very proud of him. He's…he's come so far *sniffles* Oh!! My baby has been decloseted!!!!! And, no, I'm not crazy ^ _____ ^
BrooklynNewsgirl: Heehee, glad you love it. More for you, dear!!
Chicago: Heehee, cuteness, eh? I like having my babies called cute, WEO!! Heehee, my fics are my babies, heeheeheheehahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!! Whoa…that was some weird laughter!! Anyway, muses do suck sometimes. I mean…this chapter took a very, VERY long time because Dutchy!Muse and Suck-face Snitch!Muse have been refusing to work, lol!!! Evil hobbitssses.
Nakaia Aidan-Sun: Great? Wonderful? *rolls over, happily dead* Ah, how I love reviews like that. You make my day you do *nods* And here's the next chapter for you, love ^ _____ ^ Enjoy!!