Couldn't Get a 'Blink' of Sleep

Author: Bec (Tired of Pen Names)

Disclaimers: I do not own Newsies, Mush, Kid Blink or the Newsboys' Lodging House. But if I did, the world would be a much better place for my female comrades and I. Yes, yes it would. Rowr. Muahaha!

Comments: Second chapter - 'Mushy' redemption.

Dutchy: Hahaha, Kid's an idiot.

Kid: Shut up, I'm tiahed a'listenin' ta ya mouth.

Mush: Guys. . .

Dutchy: Okay, okay. Sorry, Kid.

Bec: Good job Dutchy. Thanks.

Bumlets: Hey! What about me?

Bec: What about you? *sigh*

Bumlets: *pout*

Bec: Fine! I'll find a spot for you. . . AND NOW. . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mush jerked straight up from his bunk, his own scream ringing in his ears. He clamped his hands over his mouth when he realized he was in the Newsboys' Lodging House. His eyes darted about, to double check his location. He took in several deep breaths, and let his hands fall to his sides. He felt clammy and tense all over, and his throat was incredibly dry. Some of the other Newsies had begun to shift and murmur in their sleep, no doubt due to Mush's outcry. He winced, hoping that he hadn't woken anyone.

He breathed out a sigh of relief several seconds later when no one had spoken. No Kloppman. No annoyed curses. Phew.

Kid!

Poor Kid. . .

Mush frowned miserably. What an awful dream. . .

It had been a dream, hadn't it? Kid Blink hadn't really taken his life, had he?

Mush had to make sure.

He slid his legs over the side of his bunk, and used his upper body strength to lower himself to the floor. Snoddy was snoring away under him, which for once was a relief.

He moved almost silently through the bunks and he came between Snipeshooter and Racetrack. The two were sound asleep, and Race was muttering about a 'bum deal'.

Mush shook his head, and turned to look at Snipe, who looked as peaceful as a baby. If only.

He rose cautiously to his tiptoes, and took a deep breath, as he brought his eyes up to look at Kid's bunk.

Relief.

~There he was. . .

Mush sighed.

His one-eyed amigo wasn't dead, or even hurt. It was most definitely a dream.

Mush placed his fingers on the edge of Kid's bunk to help him get a better view. He watched Kid's chest carefully. It was rising and falling, just like it was suppose to.

Kid's face was peaceful, and his patch was just a little to the side due to tossing and turning during the night.

Reluctantly, Mush's hand reached up to adjust the patch and replace it over Kid's eye. His fingertips pressed around the edge and he slid it carefully into place.

Kid's lashes fluttered, and Mush sucked in a breath of anticipation, but to the brunette's relief, Kid let out a soft snort, and continued his slumber.

Mush lowered himself to his flat-footed position, and then crouched, leaning back onto Racetrack's bunk. He let his bare legs stretch out across the space in between the bed and his feet slid under Snipeshooter's.

'Why would I think something like that up?' He wondered to himself. Kid had been there for him since he had first come to the Lodging House. . . what would make him dream up such a thing? Mush tucked his arms together close to his chest and pulled his legs back toward his torso. He drew his knees up and stretched his elbows to rest on them. He laid his head on his folded arms, and stared at the bed stand in between the two bunks where he sat. On top lay two slingshots, a few cigars, and a black sock. It had fallen from above no doubt. Blink lost his socks frequently, and Mush was often recruited to help with the 'search and rescue,' but he didn't mind.

He didn't mind hanging over the Brooklyn Bridge either. . . if it meant saving Kid.

A clap of thunder rang out above the Lodging House and a flash of eerie lightning followed instantly after.

A limp hand slid over the side of the upper bunk across from Mush and he glanced up. The cuff of Kid's white long johns clung to his wrist, and his fingers flinched every now and then.

Mush sighed. That hand, with the ink-stained finger tips, and the callused palm meant so much more to him than most of the other Newsies combined.

~What?

Mush's eye flew back down to the lower bunk, and he stared straight ahead.

~What was he thinking?!

He felt a strange fluttering sensation in his stomach. His arms, legs and neck broke out in tiny hives from a chill that was sent up his spine.

~Was this. . . was this what he thought it was?

He climbed quickly to his feet, as best he could. He legs were wobbly and his hands felt clammy and weak.

~Kid?

He rose once again to his toes, and rested his chin on the frame below Kid's mattress.

~He is so beautiful.

Mush closed his eyes and pinched his lips together, trying to force the thoughts from his mind. Not his best friend! Not a . . . guy! Rain began to pound the roof above Mush's head, and he opened his eyes once again. There was another flash of lightning from the window at Kid's feet.

~His hair shines like gold.

No! Mush's hands flew up and his fingers clenched fistfuls of his own curly locks. His chest heaved as he backed away from Kid's bunk. He wandered down the isle, glancing helplessly at the sleeping newsboys. He drew his arms back down to his sides and his hands weakly grasped the bottom of his knickers.

BOOM! Another clap of thunder rang in his ears, and his shoulders slumped as he cringed at the sound. It was as if he was being scolded for his newfound feelings. He felt tears well up in his eyes. What was he going to do? He brought his eyes upward to peer out at the storm, but they met a shadow that loomed in front of the window. Lightning cracked behind the figure, and he wiped at his tears, a knot forming in his stomach. Had this person seen him up?

"What's wrong Mush?" A concerned voice asked.

Bumlets.

Mush sighed, "I, ah, I just coul'n't sleep. . ."

"Yeah," Bumlets replied, with a perceptive tone. "Nightmare?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorry if I woke ya up," Mush offered. The boy to whom he was speaking slept across from him, also on an upper bunk.

"Need ta talk?" Bumlets asked, dismissing the apology and the idea of Mush being a disturbance.

"Nah. . . I. . ." Mush's hands released the bottom of his shorts, as he felt the arms of his fellow Newsies wrap around his own. He sighed, much relieved, and leaned into Bumlets' embrace. His eyes welled up once again, but now he felt no need to hold back his confusion-induced tears. He buried his face into the crook of Bumlets' neck and let his briny tears moisten his fellow Newsie's bed shirt.

Bumlets held Mush close for what seemed like an eternity, and before he pulled from Mush's mutual grasp, he whispered knowingly, "Sumtimes good t'ings comes from bad dreams."

The End