Until Tomorrow

Chapter 7: Third floor

Disclaimer: Guess what I don't own? NEWSIES!

Author's Note: Thanks mydracomalfoy! Slashiness in this chapter!

Spot's POV

I brushed my shirt off again as we went up a flight of stairs. Brooklyn lodging house has three floors. The main floor is where most of us hang out or play cards. There's also a kitchen and a small dining room where we had a Christmas party last year. Just about everyone was drunk off their ass and Rofter was gone for the week to see family. Turns out he came back early on Christmas day and found not only a mess, but a bunch of newsies passed out or groaning on the floor. Instead of having any Christmas spirit whatsoever, he woke everyone up and made us clean the lodging house. On fucking Christmas! But I'm sick of Rofter...

The next floor is where the bunkroom and the washroom are. Every Brooklyn newsie sleeps there.

Except for me. The third floor was once an attic. Well it's still pretty much an attic except for one room. I led Racetrack up to my room and opened the door. He walked in and looked at me, "You have your own room?"

I smirked, "Yeah, when Red left the Brooklyn newsies he left me it."

He looked around at my room. It wasn't much. The walls were light gray; I had a window, a mirror, a bureau, a blue lamp, and one full size bed. I took off my shoes and saw Race do the same. He looked up at me from the floor, "This is nice Spot. But don't tell me you're gonna make me sleep on the floor..."

"I was actually goin' to make you sleep on the windowsill...but I think it'll be too big for you Higgins."

He attempted to glare at me and then he just let out a laugh, "Or are ya gonna have me sleep in your drawers?"

I raised an eyebrow, "I didn't know ya wanted me that badly Race."

"You wish Conlon..."

I smirked at him again. I walked forward, unloaded my pockets and took my cane off. As a joke I opened one of my drawers, when I turned around Race was taking off his vest and started to unbutton his shirt. I caught his eye and nodded my head over to the open drawer. He smirked and threw his vest at me, "I think it's too big."

I walked right up to him and looked down, "I'm sarry, I can't hear you from up heah."

He stood on his toes, "I said..."

"What?"

"I said I hope your head don't hit the door frame..."

I looked him in the eyes and I had this come back all ready but I was thrown off by his eyes.

Racetrack's POV

I don't think I ever really looked into Spot's eyes like I was doing now. Swirls of gray mixed in with blue. His guard was down and I saw the softer side in his eyes. When During the strike his eyes were hard and almost icy. When he spoke at the rally his eyes were lit up with dignity and pride. But now they looked easier and a bit confused, "Spot?"

He blinked and looked at the door behind me and then looked back up at me and he looked even more confused. "I..."

I kept looking at him.

"I...I should...it's getting hot in here..." He started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

I nodded it was getting hot. I took off the rest of my shirt. I just tossed my shirt over to where my vest was when I saw Spot's back. I grew up with abuse and I could tell that Spot had been through hell and back again. If Spot hadn't of told me and if I never had looked, I never would have guessed that the famous leader of Brooklyn was treated this badly. Most of the scars weren't that noticeable but there where a few that looked pretty bad. I walked up behind him and traced one of the scars with my finger. "You didn't tell me it was this bad..."

He turned around and the look in his eyes was filled with pain, "I don't like...weak...it's too...no one can know..."

I took another step toward him and hugged him. Then he sat down on the bed and I just held him. I held him until I could feel that the feeling was going away. He looked at me again. "Race..."

I looked into his eyes again and the next thing I knew his lips were pressed against mine. His lips were the softest thing to ever touch my lips. They were also like a drug. All the sudden the room got hotter and hotter and all I wanted was his lips. I kissed them over and over. His lips traveled to my neck and the room swirled. My breath was taken away by those lips. I wanted them back and those lips wandered on to mine again. He opened those lips, an invitation for my tongue to go explore. My lips also opened and both of our tongues were trying to get anywhere and everywhere, playing a game of tag in a small field. I put my hand in his hair and he moaned in my mouth. His hand wandered across my chest and I started running my fingers through his hair.

Then it stopped, Spot pulled away, "Don't tell anyone about the scars..."

"Don't worry, I won't..."

I smiled at him and he kissed me on the nose, "G'night Race."

"G'night Spot."