Disclaimer: As always, I am lacking the ownership of anything Newsies. Damn it.

A/N: Well this thing started out as a very random idea for Blink Week, but as I wrote it during the wee hours of the morning, it sort of just took on its own strange personality. Or something. Yes. So, um. For Blink Week! And possibly slightly dedicated to my friend Courtney who has a new-found love for Blink ... but she hates slash, ahah. Whups.

"I'm so miserable!"

Blink threw himself onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He pounded his fist on the mattress once to let off some steam, and then a few more times because he liked the effect. He breathed heavily into the scratchy fabric of his pillowcase, which smelled a bit like stale hair gel, and felt his face warm with each long, strained exhalation. After a moment, he peeked across the room at Racetrack.

Race, who had been listening to Blink's ranting for nearly ten of his eighteen years of life, sat calmly in his friend's computer chair, watching the display. His arms were crossed and his head cocked to the side as he waited for Blink to finish. When the one-eyed blonde finally snuck a glance at him, he just shook his head. "You, my friend, are not miserable. You are a drama queen. And you need to get some action, even if it's just from Betty Palmer and her five sisters." He rudely gestured for emphasis.

"... Can it be Bobby Palmer and his five ridiculously good-looking brothers?"

Race rolled his eyes and spun chair so he could get back to surfing the web. He began typing furiously. "Do us all a favor and have a good wank. You'll feel better."

Blink flipped onto his back and stared at his ceiling. "But I want a boyfriend!" he whined, his eye tracing a Y-shaped crack just above his head. "The Palmer boys never want to cuddle after our quality time together. I need a mushy boy to snuggle with ..."

Race continued typing away and didn't answer.

Blink turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, staring at the back of his friend's head and waiting impatiently for a response. "... Hello? Mushy boy to snuggle with? Mush, the adorable and heart-breakingly-hetero junior from my baking class? This is where you're supposed to tell me to throw caution to the wind and ask him out!"

"He ain't that hetero if he takes baking, you know."

"Oh, hush. He's there for the girls. They all love him and his big football muscles ... and his cute little smile ... and the way he doesn't say more than three words all period ... and the way he blushes when you ask him if you can borrow the cinnamon ..." Blink sighed dreamily and resumed laying thoughtfully on his back. "Heart-breakingly-hetero," he repeated to himself.

Race rolled his eyes again and clicked the 'submit' button on his current web page. Blink would kill him, but it was worth a shot. He turned away from the computer screen. "Hey, Blink, come look--"

"You know, sometimes I think the only way I could ever get Mush's attention is if I came to class in a miniskirt."

Race clutched his stomach and grimaced. "Blink, please! The thought nauseates."

"Well, I dunno," the blonde continued, folding an arm under his head and picking at his eye patch with the other. The fiddling with his patch was a sure sign that he was waxing depressed. "I just get so ... so frustrated. Here I am, nearly nineteen years old and I've never had a date, never been kissed, never anything. I know I'm gay as a picnic basket, but come on!"

Race sighed. Blink could be one hell of a queen, but first and foremost, he was his best friend, and he hated seeing him like this. He wasn't very good at comforting people, but it meant business when Blink dropped the drama and the humor, so he tried his best.

"Look, it's not like you're dancing naked in the middle of Fire Island and you can't get a guy. This is suburbia. They're quiet, conservative, closed-minded, and not really big fans of homos. Besides, anyone here who is gay is probably so far in the closet that they're hardly worth your time."

Blink turned his head. "So you're saying that if we didn't live in such a small, snobby town, I'd have no problem?"

He shrugged in a non-committed sort of way. "You're a good-looking dude. And even though you turn into a complete flamer now and then, you're pretty much a guy's guy. I mean, you love sports, you love cars, you love action movies ... but at the same time, you're ... nice. And, you know ... sensitive, I guess."

Blink gaped, incredulous. After a moment, however, he let out a positively girlish squee and went back to propping himself on his elbow. "Awwwww, Racetrack! Will you go out with me?"

Race blinked. "No."

"Awww, pretty please?"

"Grow a pair of D-cups and maybe we'll talk,"

Blink tsk-ed, shaking his head. "Still pretending you're on the straight and narrow?"

"Shut up," he replied. He looked pained for a second, then rubbed his stomach again.

"Still thinking of me in a miniskirt?"

"No. Christ, no." Race answered, covering his eyes as if to rid himself of the mental image. "Daniella made dinner again. I'm not sure my intestines can take it,"

Blink shook his head again, getting up from the bed and grinning. "Shame, really. Such a lovely young woman, but no culinary skills to speak of. How will she ever find a nice Italian husband?"

"You should marry her," said Race, going back to the computer once more to see if the web page had loaded.

Blink raised an eyebrow. "Hello? Did you forget that you're talking to your totally gay best friend?" He peered over Race's shoulder, nosily inspecting the computer screen.

Race snorted. "I know. That's why it would work so well if you two got together. I won't end up becoming an uncle prematurely, she won't get disowned, and you'll get to keep both your testicles." He turned his head and gave a cheesy grin. "Everybody wins!"

Blink, however, wasn't smiling back. He was gripping both the back of the computer chair and the side of the desk. "What are you doing? Why is my picture on the screen?"

And suddenly it all seemed like a very bad idea. Blink wouldn't stop at just killing him - he would mutilate him, chop him up into tiny pieces, stitch him back together and bring him back to life like the Frankenstein monster, and kill him again. Then maybe once more for good measure.

"Uh ... I put your info on SoulMateFinder dot com ... I thought maybe it'd help you out a bit."

Blink looked horrified as he read what Race had put under the title of What I'm Looking For, fuming as he read it aloud.

"... A manly romantic - must share my love of Corvettes and Broadway plays (Streisand fans need not respond). Must also enjoy cyclops, pirates, and other one-eyed things?"

Race flashed a meek, apprehensive smile. "Well, you do only have one eye, don't you? You don't want them to be surprised, right?"

He tugged on his eye patch and closed his eye, breathing deep and trying to remain calm. "Take it down."

"No."

"Take. It. Down."

"Ask that Mush kid to dinner."

Blink's eye flew open and he actually took a step back in surprise. "Say what now?"

"Ask that Mush kid out on a date and I'll take your info off the site." said Race, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly.

Blink looked on the verge of complete panic. "But ... But ... He's a hetero. He plays football."

Race gave him a knowing look. "Is he any good?"

Okay, okay, so it was true that Blink had so far gone to every football game this year and Mush was terrible at the sport, but that didn't mean anything, right? "Uh ..."

The brunette smirked smugly, clicking the appropriate buttons to delete the SoulMateFinder profile he had just created. "Exactly. Look, you wanted me to encourage you to go for your crush, so I am. Talk to him tomorrow, get his number, and take him out to eat. I guarantee he won't say no."

Blink didn't know what to do for a moment.

"... Okay."

Race grinned, standing and gathering his things. "That's a boy. I'll see you tomorrow after you arrange your date, got it?" Blink nodded, a bit dazed, as though he really never thought his best friend would tell him to go for it. Race laughed, pausing at the bedroom door. "Now's a good time for that wank, buddy," And with that, he shut it behind him and left Blink's house.

Once home, Race snatched up the phone and dialed a very important number.

"Mush? You are going to love me, man."