Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Medieval Times, or any other media references I may make.
Chapter 21
—Specs' PoV—
"Dutchy? Pass the bread, would you?" I reached across the table, expecting him to pass the basket. He didn't.
"You don't need the bread. You're a little porky there, aren't you?"
Huh?
"Dutchy, please pass the bread," I tried again.
"No!" He shoved a roll into his mouth. The whole roll.
"Dutchy..." I gave him an appraising look. "What's wrong with you?"
He grinned demonically. "Nothing. I like bread!!!"
"Uh..."
"But I don't like y—"
"Nooo!" I screamed.
I was still screaming when I sat up in bed.
"Damn it," I muttered.
I looked around. I was lying in my bed, my sheets twisted around me, my window open, allowing in a breeze and the sounds of cars. But there was no Dutchy and no breadbasket. It was a dream.
I sighed loudly and lay back down. Maybe this whole date with Dutchy thing wasn't such a good idea. I was already having nightmares about how he behaved at restaurants. That couldn't be a good sign.
I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling and watching the light patterns change as cars drove by and as it got earlier. I couldn't fall back asleep. I kept thinking about a drooling, bread consuming, Dutchy.
I shifted out of bed and slipped on my bathrobe. Tiptoeing past my parents' room and down the hall to the kitchen I turned the light on and opened the fridge. I pulled out the carton of milk. I set it down on the countertop and took a glass out of the cupboard. Beside the carton was a loaf of bread.
Shocked, I jumped backwards, eyeing the loaf suspiciously. I prodded it lightly with my fingertip, very vibrantly imagining Dutchy holding it above my head, not allowing me to eat it. Almost smugly I grabbed a slice from the bag and shoved it in my mouth. I chewed it, satisfied with the taste of the wheat bread in my mouth. I downed a glass of milk and wiped my mouth.
Do dreams come true? God, I hope not.
—Skittery's PoV—
I have never had a hangover before. It's very painful. My brother says it's best to drink a frozen coffee drink so he got me one. Not I am lying in bed with a cold towel on my forehead trying to block out the noise. Luckily my mother hasn't noticed or there'd be a lot more noise.
"What were you doing?" my brother asks me after a while. He has always been the trouble maker and I've always been the good one. I'm as shocked at this change as he is.
"I don't know," I mumble, keeping my eyes firmly shut. I can hear him laughing faintly but I'm trying very hard not to pay attention to this. "Turn the light off and leave me alone," I say next.
He switches off the light and I hear the door close. Though I hate the after-math of being the bad boy I didn't mind the during stage of it all. I roll over and tempt sleep towards me. Oh, how I hate hangovers.
End Chapter
Sorry! I know I haven't updated in a while! I was busy with other fics and stuff! I hope you liked this chapter and I hope I didn't scare you with Specs's dream and everything!
Shoutouts:
Rubix the cube—(helps you off floor) now, are you OK? Good.
Sapphy—I'm sure Skittery fully forgives you. If he doesn't, we'll just say he does.
Almatari-of-Arda—how do you manage to fit Dave into every review? It's like a freakish superpower.
Written Sparks—no problem.
Strawberri Shake—you're the second reviewer in a row who was too lazy to sign in. I'm just permanently signed in...
Bobcat:Slashgoil—I'll take good care of Jingles. And the bowing thing looks really hard.
Two-Bits—I seem to have caught short-chapter-syndrome, or SCS for short. It's due to writers block, or BOYS for short. Joking.
Ireland O'Reily—are you serious? That sounds like fun. (sigh) I wanna dance on a table...
Erin Go Bragh—no slash in a week? I'd suffer from withdrawal!
Blush Eagle Higgins-Conlon—you what?