Reform
Specs/Dutchy, AU, Newsies
NekoShininigami
Disclaimer: It's in the first chapter.
Author's Notes: I am soooooo sorry! My muses _died_!! But now, I have my health class, and they were revived by my boredom. See, my health class stirs this deep desire within me. A desire to be deaf. _ Anyway, I just got some ideas for the next chapter, so, ::oils rust from pencil and fingers:: Forgive me if things are choppy. I'M BACK, BABY.
Shout-outs: Because it's been soooo long, I'm going to skip the shout-outs this time. Thanks for all of your last reviews-keep 'em coming!
Chapter Six: Good Morning
Specs woke up cold...and alone. Blearily, he looked around. He saw that the blankets had been pushed back on Dutchy's side of the bed. He felt around on the nightstand for his glasses, found them, and slipped them on. Still cold, he shivered and glanced around for something warm to wear. His eyes landed on a worn-looking sweatshirt draping over the back of a chair. He decided that it would have to do, so he pushed the covers off, got out of bed and shuffled across the room to grab it.
Significantly warmer, Specs opened the door and padded down the hall to the living room.
Dutchy was sitting on the couch, reading the paper. Specs let a small, hesitant smile play on his lips, then he cleared his throat. Dutchy looked up and grinned.
"Good morning," Specs said quietly.
"Morning, Specs!" the blonde chirped. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you." At that moment, Dutchy noticed Specs's clothing.
"You're wearing my sweatshirt," he stated, though his tone was more inquisitive than possessive. Specs blushed slightly.
"I-I got cold," he stammered. Dutchy smiled and shook his head, gesturing for Specs to come closer. Specs stepped in front of him, then yipped in surprise as the blonde pulled him into his lap. The brunette's face flushed deep red.
"You look cute in it," Dutchy murmured in his ear. Specs shivered at the coldness. "So you're exempt from an apology."
"Um," Specs squeaked, "about last night..." Dutchy pulled back abruptly and Specs found his eyes full of a penetrating blue gaze.
"Do you regret it?" Dutchy asked softly. Specs's eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically.
"No! I was only wondering if-" A swift kiss halted Specs's question. Startled, Specs lost a chance to reciprocate before Dutchy pulled back with a grin. Specs faltered, having lost his train of thought.
"Yes?" Specs shook his head again to clear it.
"...If you did-regret it, I mean. And, well, obviously you don't, which is good, so-" Dutchy threw him a snarky smirk.
"You're babbling." Specs blinked several times.
"Oh...um...I guess I am. Sorry, I...didn't mean to..." Dutchy laughed and leaned in to touch his nose to Specs's.
"Maybe you just shouldn't talk." Specs smiled tentatively.
"I guess not." Their lips met sweetly and tenderly.
~~~~~~~
Specs was leaning against Dutchy's shoulder while the blonde finished reading the paper. Specs looked at the date on the page. It was Sunday.
"You have to go back to work tomorrow, right?" he asked. Dutchy looked up and paused for a moment.
"Yeah, I guess I do. Why do you mention it?"
"Are you nervous about it?" Dutchy looked at the dark-haired man bemusedly.
"No. Why would I be?" Specs shrugged and looked down.
"I don't know...I was just wondering." He bit his lip in thought. "I think I would be."
"Yeah, but you work for the police. I work for a newspaper. We write about stuff like that everyday." He grinned. "I don't think I have to be worried about being accepted back into the fold." Specs smiled.
"You probably don't...that's good." Dutchy let the paper rest in his lap.
"Were you worried for me?" he asked. Specs blushed profusely.
"Um...I...maybe..." he stuttered. Dutchy chuckled softly.
"Do you always take such personal interest in your parolees, Officer?"
"Not usually..."
The phone rang abruptly, startling them out of their conversation.
"You'd better get that," Specs advised when Dutchy didn't move.
"Right.." Dutchy stood up and walked into the kitchen to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Dutchy! Where the hell have you been?! I called and left a message on your machine, but you didn't answer, and there was that article in the paper..." It was Michael "Racetrack" Higgins. Dutchy's eyes widened.
"Race!! You shouldn't have called, man!" Dutchy hissed.
"Why? What's going on??" Race's voice was panicked.
"I'm under parole, you idiot! The officer is in my living room right now."
Out in the living room, Specs heard nothing but Dutchy's lowered, irritated voice. He was unable to make out exact words.
"Don't call here for a while, ok? Lay low, pal. I mean it."
"Ok, Dutch. Be careful around that cop." Dutchy grinned to himself.
"Don't worry, Race. I've got it all under control." He hung up and returned to the living room, smiling.
"Who was that?" Specs wanted to know.
"Wrong number."
//End Chapter Six\\
Author's Notes: Duhn duhn DUHN. ) And the plot thickens... What happens in the next chapter? STAY TUNED!
Specs/Dutchy, AU, Newsies
NekoShininigami
Disclaimer: It's in the first chapter.
Author's Notes: I am soooooo sorry! My muses _died_!! But now, I have my health class, and they were revived by my boredom. See, my health class stirs this deep desire within me. A desire to be deaf. _ Anyway, I just got some ideas for the next chapter, so, ::oils rust from pencil and fingers:: Forgive me if things are choppy. I'M BACK, BABY.
Shout-outs: Because it's been soooo long, I'm going to skip the shout-outs this time. Thanks for all of your last reviews-keep 'em coming!
Chapter Six: Good Morning
Specs woke up cold...and alone. Blearily, he looked around. He saw that the blankets had been pushed back on Dutchy's side of the bed. He felt around on the nightstand for his glasses, found them, and slipped them on. Still cold, he shivered and glanced around for something warm to wear. His eyes landed on a worn-looking sweatshirt draping over the back of a chair. He decided that it would have to do, so he pushed the covers off, got out of bed and shuffled across the room to grab it.
Significantly warmer, Specs opened the door and padded down the hall to the living room.
Dutchy was sitting on the couch, reading the paper. Specs let a small, hesitant smile play on his lips, then he cleared his throat. Dutchy looked up and grinned.
"Good morning," Specs said quietly.
"Morning, Specs!" the blonde chirped. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you." At that moment, Dutchy noticed Specs's clothing.
"You're wearing my sweatshirt," he stated, though his tone was more inquisitive than possessive. Specs blushed slightly.
"I-I got cold," he stammered. Dutchy smiled and shook his head, gesturing for Specs to come closer. Specs stepped in front of him, then yipped in surprise as the blonde pulled him into his lap. The brunette's face flushed deep red.
"You look cute in it," Dutchy murmured in his ear. Specs shivered at the coldness. "So you're exempt from an apology."
"Um," Specs squeaked, "about last night..." Dutchy pulled back abruptly and Specs found his eyes full of a penetrating blue gaze.
"Do you regret it?" Dutchy asked softly. Specs's eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically.
"No! I was only wondering if-" A swift kiss halted Specs's question. Startled, Specs lost a chance to reciprocate before Dutchy pulled back with a grin. Specs faltered, having lost his train of thought.
"Yes?" Specs shook his head again to clear it.
"...If you did-regret it, I mean. And, well, obviously you don't, which is good, so-" Dutchy threw him a snarky smirk.
"You're babbling." Specs blinked several times.
"Oh...um...I guess I am. Sorry, I...didn't mean to..." Dutchy laughed and leaned in to touch his nose to Specs's.
"Maybe you just shouldn't talk." Specs smiled tentatively.
"I guess not." Their lips met sweetly and tenderly.
~~~~~~~
Specs was leaning against Dutchy's shoulder while the blonde finished reading the paper. Specs looked at the date on the page. It was Sunday.
"You have to go back to work tomorrow, right?" he asked. Dutchy looked up and paused for a moment.
"Yeah, I guess I do. Why do you mention it?"
"Are you nervous about it?" Dutchy looked at the dark-haired man bemusedly.
"No. Why would I be?" Specs shrugged and looked down.
"I don't know...I was just wondering." He bit his lip in thought. "I think I would be."
"Yeah, but you work for the police. I work for a newspaper. We write about stuff like that everyday." He grinned. "I don't think I have to be worried about being accepted back into the fold." Specs smiled.
"You probably don't...that's good." Dutchy let the paper rest in his lap.
"Were you worried for me?" he asked. Specs blushed profusely.
"Um...I...maybe..." he stuttered. Dutchy chuckled softly.
"Do you always take such personal interest in your parolees, Officer?"
"Not usually..."
The phone rang abruptly, startling them out of their conversation.
"You'd better get that," Specs advised when Dutchy didn't move.
"Right.." Dutchy stood up and walked into the kitchen to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Dutchy! Where the hell have you been?! I called and left a message on your machine, but you didn't answer, and there was that article in the paper..." It was Michael "Racetrack" Higgins. Dutchy's eyes widened.
"Race!! You shouldn't have called, man!" Dutchy hissed.
"Why? What's going on??" Race's voice was panicked.
"I'm under parole, you idiot! The officer is in my living room right now."
Out in the living room, Specs heard nothing but Dutchy's lowered, irritated voice. He was unable to make out exact words.
"Don't call here for a while, ok? Lay low, pal. I mean it."
"Ok, Dutch. Be careful around that cop." Dutchy grinned to himself.
"Don't worry, Race. I've got it all under control." He hung up and returned to the living room, smiling.
"Who was that?" Specs wanted to know.
"Wrong number."
//End Chapter Six\\
Author's Notes: Duhn duhn DUHN. ) And the plot thickens... What happens in the next chapter? STAY TUNED!