Men Can Fly
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, nor do I own the Wright Brothers, or history. So please don't sue.
Summary: Spot's life isn't quite working out the way anyone thought it would. He's now 26, single, and working in a dead end job without any friends or family. SLASH! Race/Spot.
A/N: This story is in honor of the 100th anniversary of Powered Flight, which was on December 17, 2003. I know that it might be a bit different from my other stories, but please read and review.
Men Can Fly
Prologue
October 15, 1909
My name is Isaiah Conlon, I'm twenty-six years-old, and the stupidest man alive. I know that that is an unusual way of introducing myself, but it's the only way that fits now. You see my life can be explained in three parts:
First, my life with my family in Ireland, which lasted until I was about seven
Second, my life as a Newsie. Which was of course the best part of my life. You see I was a leader back then. The leader of the biggest and best Newsies around. I was Spot Conlon. Leader of Brooklyn. However, I was also 'abnormal' back then. You see I had the strangest obsession with kissing boys...well, more like one boy, Racetrack Higgins.
And finally the part of my life that I'm in right now, the Post-Race part. I think this has to be the lowest point that anyone could get to. You see it all happened shortly after the Newsies Strike of 1899, I was still the leader of Brooklyn, but I could sense a distance growing between me and my boys. At that time I proved my position of the stupidest man alive. You see I thought that if I was to get rid of Race, that I'd be able to keep my boys. Although it's been exactly ten years since that day, I still remember the look on his face. I knew I had broken not only his heart, but mine. But I was a power-hungry sixteen year-old, and that was what made me gain my title. The saddest part of this story is probably the fact that I was overthrown that same day, and no longer had anyone to comfort me.
So, somehow I came to work at a small bakery owned by a widow. The pay isn't that much, but the view is really nice. It's right outside of Sheepshead Races, and twice a day I get to see Race walking to and from his work.
Yeah, I know everyone probably can tell that I am still in love with that scrappy little Italian, but then again how could I not be? I mean he's perfect right? Well, maybe I need to do something about it. Well, I think I will, today, after work, I'm going to go and talk to Race.
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, nor do I own the Wright Brothers, or history. So please don't sue.
Summary: Spot's life isn't quite working out the way anyone thought it would. He's now 26, single, and working in a dead end job without any friends or family. SLASH! Race/Spot.
A/N: This story is in honor of the 100th anniversary of Powered Flight, which was on December 17, 2003. I know that it might be a bit different from my other stories, but please read and review.
Men Can Fly
Prologue
October 15, 1909
My name is Isaiah Conlon, I'm twenty-six years-old, and the stupidest man alive. I know that that is an unusual way of introducing myself, but it's the only way that fits now. You see my life can be explained in three parts:
First, my life with my family in Ireland, which lasted until I was about seven
Second, my life as a Newsie. Which was of course the best part of my life. You see I was a leader back then. The leader of the biggest and best Newsies around. I was Spot Conlon. Leader of Brooklyn. However, I was also 'abnormal' back then. You see I had the strangest obsession with kissing boys...well, more like one boy, Racetrack Higgins.
And finally the part of my life that I'm in right now, the Post-Race part. I think this has to be the lowest point that anyone could get to. You see it all happened shortly after the Newsies Strike of 1899, I was still the leader of Brooklyn, but I could sense a distance growing between me and my boys. At that time I proved my position of the stupidest man alive. You see I thought that if I was to get rid of Race, that I'd be able to keep my boys. Although it's been exactly ten years since that day, I still remember the look on his face. I knew I had broken not only his heart, but mine. But I was a power-hungry sixteen year-old, and that was what made me gain my title. The saddest part of this story is probably the fact that I was overthrown that same day, and no longer had anyone to comfort me.
So, somehow I came to work at a small bakery owned by a widow. The pay isn't that much, but the view is really nice. It's right outside of Sheepshead Races, and twice a day I get to see Race walking to and from his work.
Yeah, I know everyone probably can tell that I am still in love with that scrappy little Italian, but then again how could I not be? I mean he's perfect right? Well, maybe I need to do something about it. Well, I think I will, today, after work, I'm going to go and talk to Race.