He tossed and turned in his bed. It seemed no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Maybe the reason wasn't his crappy mattress of the thin blanket that covered him. Maybe he was restless for another reason. No, he was restless for another reason. Spot had finally come to realize that there was a very thin line between friendship and "something more".

Restless tonight

Cause I wasted the light

Between both these times

I drew a really thin line

            Spot looked up at the ceiling above him. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He just wasn't that way. And yet, all these feelings were welling up inside of him. Spot flopped over on his side and glared into the dark nothingness of his room. Yes, he had his own bedroom at the lodging house in Brooklyn. He tossed and turned a bit more in his bed before he came to realize that he wasn't going to fall asleep.

            His bare feet hit the cold wooden floor as he climbed out of bed. He needed some fresh air, a walk would be nice. He just couldn't feel this way, he just couldn't. But how he craved to have that one person in his arm, to kiss that one person's lips, that person should be his. Even if they crossed that line, they should be together. Spot shook his head trying to clear his mind. No, he couldn't think like that. He could not cross that line.

It's nothing I planned

And not that I can

But you should be mine

Across that line

            Spot pulled his cloths on and donned his hat before he climbed out his window. As he deftly scaled down the fire escape He couldn't help but think of that one person. Sure, he could give up everything he knew. He could give up being the leader of Brooklyn, give up his reputation, and give it all up for that one thing. God that was a lot to give up. Spot had worked hard for what he had. He was the King of Brooklyn and loved it. Anything he could ever want was at his fingertips. Well, almost anything.

            His footsteps echoed in the darkness as he walked down the streets and alleyways of Brooklyn. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't really care. 'Besides, Spot thought to himself, aren't these feelings I have…aren't they wrong?' If he could just figure everything out then maybe, maybe, he could get that one thing. Spot didn't know anything about these feelings he was having. They were so new to him; they scared him, not that he'd tell anyone else that. Why did things have to be so complicated?      

If I traded it all

If I gave it all away for one thing

Just for one thing

If I sorted it out

If I knew all about this one thing

Wouldn't that be something

            Spot found himself at the steps of the Manhattan lodging house. He scowled; this was the last place he wanted to be. Or was it? Spot stood there looking at the darkened windows for along time. A soft breeze snagged at his clothes and tugged at his sandy hair that peeked out from under his cap, but Spot was numb to it all. All he could think about was that one person.

            He shook his head. No, not now. He would do something about this feeling he had, but not tonight. There was no way he could do it tonight. It wasn't the right time. Maybe tomorrow night would be the right time, but not now. Not when everything else seemed so perfect. But he would not run away from this, Spot Conlon would not run away from anything…or anyone.   

I promise I might

Not walk on by

Maybe next time

But not this time

            Spot sat down on the stoop and buried his face in his hands. This was all too much. He knew what these feelings were. There was no way to deign that these weren't feelings of attraction, of want, of lust, of love. Spot rubbed his face. He hated how it all sounded in his head. What if the other person didn't feel the same way? What would happen if it got out about how he had these feelings? Why did something so wrong seem so right in his head, and in his heart?  

Even though I know

I don't want to know

Yeah I guess I know

I just hate how it sounds

            The door creaked open behind Spot. He jumped at the noise and turned around to see who was there. Oh god, it was him.

            "Hey Spot," Race said as he stepped out from the doorframe. He closed the door behind him and sat down next to Spot on the stoop. "What brings you here?"

            "I donno," Spot said. Just sitting next to Racetrack was sending a tingly feeling through his body. "I needed to think."

            "Girl trouble?" Race asked as he dug around in his pocket. He then produced a cigar and rolled it around in his fingers.

            "Something like that," Spot muttered. He rubbed his face with his hands. Race looked over at his friend thoughtfully.

            "You know," Race said slowly his eyes studying Spot's face. "Skittery and Snitch are together."

            "What?" Spot looked over at Race surprised. "What do you mean by that?"

            "Yeah, Jack and I walked in on them making out the other day. We promised we wouldn't tell anybody…"

            "Then why are you telling me?" Spot asked cutting Race off. Race shrugged and pulled out a match from another pocket.

            "Donno," He lit his cigar and took a few puffs of it.

            "So, what do you think about it?" Spot asked carefully. He couldn't take his eyes off of Race's face. It was so…so…so something. It was handsome. That's what it was. Butterflies tickled the insides of Spot's stomach as Race made eye contact with Spot.

            "I think its fine. I mean our lives aren't all that great to begin with. We all have our shitty pasts and being a newsie isn't the best job our there. Our lives suck. So I guess, if we find happiness why should we let gender get in the way of it?"

            Spot didn't answer. The question didn't need an answer. Somehow though, what Race had just said made him feel better about things. He didn't feel so guilty about being in love with him. He didn't feel so afraid of what he might say when Spot ever told him how he felt.

            "What do you think about it?" Race asked as he blew a smoke ring in the air.

            "Same as you," Spot said with a shrug. "I mean I see your point but no one thinks like that in Brooklyn. Well, no one who would admit it out loud." After a long silence Race spoke up again.

            "Spot, what's really on your mind? It's not like 'Hattan is close to Brooklyn."

            "I told you I went out for a walk. I needed to think."

            "So you done thinkin' yet?" Race smirked at Spot. Spot looked up at Race and smirked. It was the right time more or less.

            "Tell me Racetrack, do you swing that way? Like Skittery and Snitch?" Spot asked. He found himself scooting closer to Race and Race didn't seem to notice.

            "I donno, I guess it depends."

            "On what?"

            "On the guy."

             Spot leaned over and softly kissed Race. His lips felt so good against Spot's that he knew that what he was doing was the right thing. Race put his hand behind Spot's neck and deepened the kiss. This was the right thing. When the two pulled apart from each other they were both breathless. Race rested his forehead against Spot's and smiled.

            "Wanna go inside?" He asked as he ran his fingers through Spot's soft hair. Spot smiled a true smile, one that was rare for the hard-assed leader of Brooklyn.

            "Yeah," Spot said as he breathed in Race's sent of cigars and newspapers.

            Race stood up and dusted off his pants before he offered Spot a hand up. This thing that Spot had with Race, or the thing that was forming between them, it was definitely something.

AN: OK, so that was my first slash fic. I think I like how it turned out too. I hope it goes over well. Ok, so Newsies aren't mine and neither is the song "One Thing"…that belongs to Finger Eleven and Newsies belong to Disney (but we all knew that) Please review since this is my first slashy fic. Hope you all like it!