One-shot fic for Dewey
Preferences: 1899, third-person narrative, humor/romance/drama, Runner/Spot Conlon
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or Runner. Dewey owns herself.

Only One Night

Runner couldn't concentrate. He held in his hands a set of cards, its faces, shapes, and numbers staring right back at him as if they were supposed to somehow make sense. He blinked once more; trying his best to keep a blank face in front of the other Brooklyn newsies perched around the table. Poker was played for fun, but it was still taken seriously, or at least when money was concerned. If you don't pay attention, think, and keep your mind straight, you were bound to lose money, a lot of money if you weren't too careful. But then again, there was cheating.

"Runner," mumbled the Brooklyn newsie sitting across from him, his eyebrow slightly raised as he looked at Runner with a slight bout of confusion. His hands were on the tips of his cards, obviously ready for his turn to come next, wanting Runner to get on with it so that he could take all the money for himself. "You've been looking at the same spot for hours. You're not even looking at your damn cards, for crying out loud."

Turning his eyes towards the newsie, one that he didn't recognize but one that he constantly saw around the place, he couldn't help but glare. He had been thinking, that was for sure, but not about poker specifically, something far from poker. Then to have somebody break his thoughts, well, he wasn't exactly too happy on that case.

"Here," he muttered, pushing himself up from his previous sitting position as he shoved the set of cards straight onto the chest of the first kid he saw, which didn't take too long considering the amount of people watching the game. "Have fun."

He needed to think and to sort things out, that he knew, but where and how he was to do that, he had no idea. Stuffing his hands into his pockets before turning around to face the crowded room before him, Runner scanned the area, his emerald green eyes pausing just every few seconds to see who was nearby. The smell of alcohol and cigar smoke filled his nostrils, not even flinching as he did when he had first come to the Brooklyn Lodging House, though now it was deemed normal. Shouts, chatter, and laughter reached his ears from almost every side of the room, giving him no doubt that the newsies were enjoying themselves no matter what borough they came from.

It was another one of Brooklyn's infamous parties, the ones that the newsies always looked forward to for a night of enjoyment and events. Or at least until the alcohol had gotten into their system.

There had always been a group of drunkards, and it was around this time of night they were about to show their true colors, stuttering and blubbering out incoherent words as they tried to focus their vision on the numerous things that they aimed to do. Their smiles were lopsided, their eyelids fluttering every now and then as they fought themselves to stay awake and celebrate even more. He didn't want to worry about them, he never did. Spot had always taken care of them, ordering his birds to have them leave the place just as quickly. But only this time, when Runner had thought were no drunkards to be seen, or at least in this room, his eyes widened when the one person he had last expected to see riddled with alcohol, giggled foolishly before giving Runner a playful pat on the cheek as he tried his best to steady himself.

"Spot?" he muttered, half amused, but still shocked at his behavior nonetheless. He was the one who was supposed to have his head screwed on compared to the rest of them. He couldn't blame him though and he was hardly surprised, Spot had a knack for getting himself into trouble now and then, even though the rest of Brooklyn may not know it.

"W-who… who are y… a-you…" he slurred, gripping onto Runner's shoulder before being dragged into a nearby empty hallway by Runner.

"What the hell…"

"Oh!" giggled Spot, smiling widely. "It's my cousin, Runnah! S-second… Second in command!"

Spot gave Runner a miserable looking salute, considering the fact that it took him a while to find his forehead, causing him to look at his hand in confusion as if it were the one that did something wrong. All Runner could do was roll his eyes and put his hands on either of Spot's shoulders, trying his best to steady him.

He hadn't expected to end up here in Brooklyn, with his cousin no less, but he didn't complain. Cocky and arrogant as he may seem, Spot was one of his closest friends and relatives, and around these parts, it was hard to find that. Taking him in with no questions at all, Runner was made a newsie and Spot's second in command. He looked up to him, he really did, with what leading a group of rowdy newsboys in such a place, but there were times when he couldn't help but think he failed his cousin, wanting so much to strive for what he was asked for instead of falling short. But in his position, being in second command and cousin of the leader of Brooklyn, there was a special bond when they needed each other, such as when the other was drunk and needed to keep himself from embarrassing himself.

"Spot, c'mon, let's go upstairs…" he said, carefully taking his arm and putting it over his shoulder as they made their way towards the stairs leading to the bunkroom.

"No," he growled, resisting Runner's actions and trying his best to pry himself from his cousin. "It's too far… er, high… I can't…"

Runner simply glared. He wasn't normally like this, he really was, but the fact that he wasn't in a good mood to begin with and with a drunk Spot to add to do that, his night wasn't exactly pleasant. "Dammit, Spot, you're going to come with me whether you like it or not."

"H-hey…" he slurred, giving him a lopsided smile. "I said somethin'… somethin' like that to… er, one of those girls outside! Redhead, funny nose, but long legs that ---."

Runner didn't bother letting him finish his sentence as he grabbed Spot's wrist forcefully and dragging him to the nearest empty room that he could find. For some reason, one that he knew though he wouldn't want to admit, what Spot had said made his anger rise even more. Here he was, the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, power in his hands, and a girl that nobody else can imagine dreaming of. Now, here he was, drunk from the amount of alcohol that he had taken, clouding him from thinking of what he was currently doing.

"Runnah! H-hey, ow, why are you…" he growled, turning to face his cousin in the eye, their noses almost touching before curling his fist into a ball and hitting him square in the stomach.

Runner groaned, completely caught off guard by Spot's sudden reaction, letting go of his wrist and unconsciously putting a hand over his stomach. Glaring right back at Spot, Runner couldn't help but throw a punch right back into Spot's face. He didn't care that his cousin was drunk and hadn't really meant it at the moment, he was mad and Spot was the closest punching bag he could reach. It didn't take long for the two boys to exchange blows with each other, only stopping when Spot looked like as if he were about to literally fall down.

Wiping the trickle of blood near his lip, Runner breathed a sigh, trying his best to keep his breath steady as Spot gripped the edge of a nearby chair, slowly sitting down on the floor and leaning his back to the wall. Silence ruled for a little while before the two boys calmed down and looked at each other once more.

"Hey, Runnah," muttered Spot, breaking the silence. "Do somethin' for me?"

"Anythin'," answered Runner, the words out of his mouth before he had come to realize what he had said.

"Get me another drink."

Runner opened his mouth to protest, to tell Spot how stupid he was being, but closed his mouth when he had realized his eyes were closed and his head lolling to one side. Spot either fell asleep or fainted right then and there, which one, Runner didn't know. He couldn't help but smirk, however, if only the rest of Brooklyn could see him now.

"Spot?" came a voice from the entrance of the door. "What's going on here?"

Turning around to see who it was that found them, he cursed himself inwardly for leaving the door open. His eyes widened, however, when he saw who it was. Dewey. Her short and curly brown hair hung past her shoulders with a pair of matching dark brown eyes and light bronze skin. Her cheeks were dotted with freckles and her eyes glinted with a slight color of gold every now and then, one of the few things that Runner couldn't help but notice. But then again, he couldn't help but not notice her completely.

"I…er…" he muttered, his strong demeanor diminished the minute had laid eyes on her confused face. He couldn't lie to that face, let alone talk to that face right now.

"Is that… Spot! Oh, what happened? How did he…" she muttered, running over to the Spot's body and putting a hand over his forehead, her face full of worry and concern.

"He got drunk," he finally said, when his throat was fully cooperating. "Really drunk. I tried to get him upstairs, but he wouldn't let me. I couldn't the others see him like how he was, that giggling shrimp."

"Do you think we can take him upstairs?"

"Not unless the place is occupied."

Dewey bit her lip, nodding before turning to look back at Spot once more. "Would anybody come inside if…"

"Leave him here, you mean?"

"If there's nowhere else that we can bring him…"

"If the door's closed, they should know well enough not to come inside."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't be saying this if I wasn't," he answered, meeting her eyes. He wasn't too sure about his answer, he had to admit, but he knew that if someone was bound to found Spot, then the first person they would run to would be no other than him. It shouldn't be too big of a problem. He gave her a small smile, knowing that she was already clouding his decisions just so he could stay with her even only for a little while.

"Alright," she said, after a few seconds had passed by, standing up from her position and walking towards the door that led back outside.

"Listen, wait, Dewey, I, er…" muttered Runner, taking a few steps towards her as he closed the door behind him once they had left the room.

"Yes?"

"Since Spot's unconscious and all…" he started, not exactly sure of where he was leading with his offer. He blamed his nervous, mentally wishing it would go away.

"You're not going to go around and think that I need protection like Spot always thinks so, are you?" she countered, raising her eyebrow at him playfully.

Runner gulped, doing his best not to melt at the sight of her like this, though he had to admit, pretending like he needed to protect her for Spot was something that would work, something that would work really well. "Er, that's right. Sorry, Dewey, but…"

She shrugged, making her way back into the crowded room as Runner walked beside her, wishing so hard that he could just hold her, even for one moment, though he knew he couldn't.

"Doesn't matter," she said, giving him a small smile as they faced the crowd. "I don't mind the company."

"Really?"

He couldn't help but act as if he was a little kid with a crush. She was the one thing that he had desired almost every day. The fact that she was with his cousin, the one person that he had looked up to, the one person that had took him in, and the one person that had taught him how to survive in a place like this, was the one that was with her and it hurt him inside.

"How can I not? You're Runner," she answered simply, as if it solved everything. "You're always fun to be 'round with, never boring, that's for sure, and a nice friend to top to that."

He felt his spirits slowly rise, but stopped suddenly when she had reached the word 'friend'. He frowned slightly, but shrugged it off, deciding that this was not the time to dwell on it and worry about things such as that. He was talking to her, without Spot hanging around, which made a huge difference to the situation. Not knowing what to say and too shocked by her sudden compliment, he gave her a sheepish smile as the soft melody of the piano slowly filled the room. Glancing over at the corner, Runner saw a girl, oblivious to the world and whatever went around her as she laid her fingers on the ivory keys and begin playing a slow and gentle song.

"Imagine that," chuckled Dewey, nudging Runner as she nodded over to the girl he had been looking at earlier. "Someone playing a piano in the middle of our party. Guess we need some of that 'round here, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, smiling back down at her. "Ain't too bad, if you ask me."

He bit his lip, glancing at the entranced Dewey and the girl at the piano. This would be his chance and he knew he had to take it. He wanted to take it, despite what he was feeling inside. This was his cousin's girl. His cousin, the one lying in the empty room after drinking too much alcohol, his cousin that stood by him, while here he was, hoping to hell that Spot would never wake up.

"Dewey, um, would you mind dancing with me?"

He looked at her with hopeful eyes as she stared back up at him, her lips slowly curving into a smile and her eyes sparkling with a glint of gold that Runner loved so much.

"Course," she answered, taking his outstretched hand as he led her onto the empty space made near the piano for couples that would have the sudden desire to dance.

He bit his lip, hoping that he wouldn't cause her any pain by stepping on any toes as he held her hand and placed the other on her waist, gently pulling her closer as he looked down at her, his emerald green eyes entranced by her dark brown ones, slowly swaying towards the melody of the music that had created a whole different world for the two of them.

No words were exchanged as they danced, their eyes on each other, oblivious to the stares and whispers around them. She knew in her heart that nobody had held her that way before, so gentle and so safe at the same time, something that she had lacked from time to time. There was something about him, with his captivating eyes, the way the tips of his bright blonde hair fell into his face, and the way he held himself. He was Spot's cousin all the same, but the two were different in so many ways.

Pulling her closer just a bit more, causing her to rest her head on the crook of his shoulder comfortably as they danced around, Runner couldn't help but wish the moment was to never end. Here in his arms was the one thing he had always wanted, the one thing that he had always desired and now here they were dancing gently and peacefully to their own rhythm and music. He knew this night would end, that morning would come and things would go back to normal. Spot not as drunk and Dewey not entranced. Him alone. He held her close, hoping to hell that time would stop, and that this one night would never end, because for this one night, this one only night, he had her in his arms.

Eep. Ta-dah! Hope you guys liked it!

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