I do not own Newsies (surprise, surprise) therefore I do not own any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story (another big surprise).

Race has met the girl of his dreams. Spot has met the girl of his nightmares. And nobody wants to tell the toughest girl in New York that she needs a shave.

1899, Humor. SLASH Sprace Javid

A/N: Beta credit to pennylayne, the quintessential overachiever.

In just one night, pennylayne beta'd this story, and wrote and posted the first four chapters of her new story A Very Thin Line. Check it out. It's great!

WARNING: Be advised that despite the title this is a SLASH story not a Mary Sue story.

This story was written to entertain and not to offend the Mary Sue lovers of the world.

CHAPTER 4

"How long is this gonna go on!" Spot shouted at the doctor. "You said that he'd only be like this for a couple of days, but it's been a week already, and he ain't gettin' any better."

"Yeah, Doc," Jack chuckled. "Any longer, and Spot here is gonna find himself engaged or somethin'."

"I think I'm already engaged. Another week, and that nut-case is gonna have me at the altar."

"Calm down, Spot," David said in a comforting tone. "Race is your best friend. You've got to do this for him. You know that he would do the same for you if the situation was reversed."

"Look, Dave. You ain't seen 'em," Jack chuckled. "He goes around here all day primpin' and makin' himself pretty for his Spottikins. The way he hangs on Spot, you'd think that the two of them were attached."

"It can't be all that bad."

"Yeah, it is, Dave," Spot grimaced. "Everywhere I go, he's there right next to me. He sticks closer to me than my own shadow. If he ain't followin' me around, then he's touchin' me. If he ain't touchin' me, then he's givin' me cow eyes and whisperin' girly things in my ear. That kinda stuff might be okay for you and Jack but - -"

"Can-it, Spot!" Jack growled.

"Boys, please. . . I know that this hasn't been easy for you, but think how your friend must feel. Haven't you seen any improvement since the last time I was here?"

"Well, he did answer when I called him Racetrack the other day," Jack said. "But after that he went right back to being Mary Sue."

"Yeah, and I walked in and found him smoking a cigar yesterday." Spot said. "For a minute I thought that I had the old Race back, but I was wrong. When I asked him if he wanted to play a few hands of poker, he said no because it wasn't ladylike."

"There's no way Racetrack would refuse a game of cards, no matter how sick he was," Jack added.

"Well, boys, those are both good signs, but I'm afraid his recovery could take longer than originally expected. There have been cases where the patient remained confused for several years, then suddenly regained their memory."

"Several years!" Spot shouted. "You expect me to put up with this for several years! I won't do it!"

"Yea, Doc," Jack laughed. "By that time, Spot and Mary Sue will not only be married, they'll have a couple of kids too."

"Jack, please," David huffed. "You're not helping. . . Do you really think that it will take a couple of years, Doctor?"

"Those are extreme cases. Most patients regain their memory in just a few days. I'm confident that your friend will soon be back to normal. He's already exhibiting signs that his memory is returning."

"Okay, Doc," Spot grumbled. "But if this goes on much longer, I'm gonna be your next mental case!"

"Just try to be patient, and I'll be back to check on him in a couple of days."

-o-o-o-o-

"David!" Race called from the stairway. "I didn't know you were here. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mary Sue. And how are you? You're looking very pretty these days."

"Oh, please," Spot mumbled as he rolled his eyes. "I think somebody should tell Mary Sue that she needs a shave."

"Did the doctor leave already, Spottikins? He's so nice. He keeps telling me that I bumped my head, but I don't remember getting hurt. Do you, Pumpkin?"

"Yes, Mary Sue. You got a bump on the head last week and that's why you are a little confused."

"Oh, that's silly. I don't feel confused at all. So, what are we doing tonight? Now that Jack and David are here, we can do something special . . . I know! Let's go dancing! Wouldn't that be fun, Pumpkin? I can't remember the last time we went dancing."

"That's because we ain't ever been out dancin', and we ain't gonna start now!"

"Oh, Spottikins, please?" Race purred as he laid his head on Spot's shoulder. "It would be so romantic."

"Back off'a me, you nut-job!" Spot hissed as he pulled his arm away from Race. "Your name ain't Mary Sue, and you ain't no girl! Your name is Racetrack Higgins and you're a cigar-smokin', whiskey-drinkin', card-playin', 5'2" smart ass who pees standin' up!"

"Humph," said Racetrack as he flipped his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. "I know you love me, but you're too proud and stubborn to admit it. Not a girl? . . . That's preposterous!"

Racetrack stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to Spot's room.

"Oh, that was nice, Spot," David said sarcastically. "Really nice! I thought that you weren't supposed to tell him that he isn't Mary Sue?"

"Spot gave up on that a couple of days ago, when Race jumped out from behind the washroom door and tried to lay a big wet one on him," Jack laughed. "But don't worry about Race. This happens a dozen times a day. Race starts gropin' at Spot, then Spot yells at Race, then Race stomps up the stairs and slams the door. I've seen it happen so many times in the past week that I think that I'd recognize Race's ass faster than I would his face!"

"Excuse me?" David said with one eyebrow raised.

"You know what I mean, Dave. Now let's you and me go and get somethin' to eat, and leave the two lovebirds alone."

"Are you sure that you can handle Race while we're gone?" David asked.

"Sure, Dave. You and Jack go out and have a good time. I can handle the little princess by myself."

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Jack smirked. "And don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

Spot climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. "I'm sorry I hollered at you, Mary Sue. Open the door and let me in."

"No! Go away!"

"I'm not gonna go away, so unlock the door and let me in."

"No!"

"Mary Sue! Don't make me kick this door in. You come over here and unlock this door right now!"

Racetrack unlocked the door and went and sat on the bed with his back to Spot. His head was hinging down, and he was making a sniffling sound as if he were crying . . . again.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you, Mary Sue," Spot said as he sat down next to Race. "But don't you remember that we talked about this? We agreed that you wouldn't go around huggin' me and actin' all lovey-dovey. It ain't proper. You don't want people to think that you ain't a lady, do ya?"

"No." Race replied with the puppy-dog eyes and the pouty lip. "I'm sorry . . . I forgot. It must be that bump the doctor was talking about. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"I know ya didn't, Mary Sue," Spot said pulling out his handkerchief. "Now, dry your eyes and you'll feel better."

Race did as Spot instructed, but then he blew his nose into the handkerchief, and it sounded like the elephant Spot saw at the circus last summer.

Damn. It's a good thing he ain't really a girl, Spot thought. That noise would scare the hell outta anybody! "Now, don't you feel better, Mary Sue?"

"A little," Race replied, blinking his large dark eyes and with his bottom lip quivering.

Spot was getting that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd been getting that a lot lately. Especially when Race gave him the look that he was getting now.

"I didn't think that I was confused, but I guess I am."

"I know, Mary Sue. But you are gettin' better, and the doc says that you'll be okay in a couple of days."

"Spot?" Racetrack asked in-between sniffles and pouts. "Who's Race?"

"Um. . . What?"

"Well, you keep calling me Race. Is she an old girlfriend of yours?"

"No, Race isn't an old girlfriend of mine," Spot chuckled. "Race isn't even a girl. He's the best friend I ever had."

"What happened to him? I don't think that I've seen him around here . . . Have I?"

"No, Mary Sue. You ain't seen him. Race got sick a while back and he ain't been the same since then."

"Do you miss him?"

"Yeah . . . Yeah, I do miss him."

"Well, do you love him?"

"What!"

"You said that he's the best friend that you ever had. Do you love him?"

Spot looked at Race's wide eyes and childlike expression. "I guess I do love the little bastard . . . I mean, he is my best friend and all. I ain't got any family to speak of. Race is like my family, only better."

"How is he better than having a family?"

"Well, with family, you're stuck with what you get. It don't matter if they're good or bad, you're stuck with 'em either way. But your friends are your friends because they wanna be, not because they hafta be. And Race is the best of 'em all. He's the one person in this world that I know I can count on."

"It sounds like you're a pretty lucky guy to have him as your friend."

"Yeah," Spot said as he examined Racetrack's crooked smile. "Yeah, I am lucky."

"If I were Race, I think that I'd be pretty lucky too."

Spot stared into Race's eyes, and he could feel his stomach tighten. His heart began to pick up speed as a warm flush covered his body.

"Okay . . . That's enough talk for now," Spot said uncomfortably. "Whadda you say we go and get somethin' to eat?"

Spot attempted to stand, but was pulled back down when Race grabbed his arm.

Race didn't speak. He looked at Spot as if he were waiting for the answer to a question. Race slid his hand down Spot's arm, then gently squeezed Spot's hand and smiled.

Without even thinking, Spot leaned over and brushed his lips across Race's. They barely touched, yet it sent a wave of pleasure surging through Spot's body. It was the most wonderful feeling he'd ever experienced.

Spot pulled back and looked at Race, who again smiled. The sight of the lopsided grin and slightly crooked teeth took Spot's breath away. He leaned in and kissed Race fully on the mouth. The tight feeling in his stomach became less of a discomfort as it quickly traveled lower. Soon pleasure and desire engulfed his body.

Race returned the kiss and opened his mouth in anticipation of Spot's tongue. Spot eagerly accepted the invitation, and soon he found himself lying on top of Race. A groan escaped Race's lips as he writhed against Spot

The sound of Race's voice sent Spot crashing back to reality. He pulled himself from Race's body and got to his feet. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.

"What's wrong?" Race asked.

"I can't do this, Mary Sue . . . I just can't do it!"

"It's okay, Spottikins. You're just nervous," Race whispered as he slid his hand into Spot's shirt.

"Jeeze, Mary Sue. I ain't gonna do this, so back the hell off'a me!"

"It's not me you want, is it, Spot? It's not me . . . It's Race, isn't it?"

Spot stared at his friend as a wave of panic flooded his body. "You're crazy! That bump must've knocked somethin' loose in that head of yours!"

"Admit it, Spot," Race pleaded as he shook his friend's shoulders. "Please, Spot, tell me the truth."

"Dammit! Why can't you be Race?" Spot groaned as he slapped Race's hands away from his body.

A smirk covered Racetrack's face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. "Well, it's about time you admit it, you stupid son of a bitch! If I had to pretend to be Mary Sue for one more day, I was gonna kill myself!"

Race never saw the punch coming. Spot stood over him with both hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

"You won't hafta kill yourself, 'cause I'm gonna do it for ya!" Spot hissed.

"Take it easy, pal. There's no reason to get this upset."

"No reason to get upset! You make me jump through hoops for more than a week pretendin' to be Mary Sue, and you tell me that there ain't no reason to get upset! . . . Stand up, you little weasel, so I can kill ya like a man!"

"Calm down, Spot." Race pleaded from his place on the floor. "It ain't been that long. It's only been two days. When you started shoutin' at me in the washroom tellin' me that I was Race and not Mary Sue, everything came back . . . I mean, not all at once, but I figured out what was going on."

"Save it! You lying sack of - -."

"Okay!" Race shouted as he got to his feet. "Go ahead and try to kill me, but before I die, I'm gonna speak my mind."

"Make it good, because these are gonna be your last words!"

"Look, Spot. I figured out a while ago that you had some kind of feelin's for me, but I knew if I asked you about, it you'd wanna kick my ass."

"Well, you were right. That's just what I'm gonna do!"

"Then, when this Mary Sue thing came along, I figured that I could force your hand. You know what they say, pal . . . seize the day. I saw the opportunity, and I took it. And it worked, too. So don't stand there and try to tell me that you don't have feelin's for me, because I know that you'd be lying."

"You're crazy! Now, what name do you want on your headstone, Racetrack or Mary Sue!"

"Jeeze, you can really be an ass sometimes! If you'd shut that big mouth of your for just a minute, you'd realize that I feel the same way about you, ya girly-faced moron!"

"What did you just say?"

"I said that you're a girly-faced moron!"

"No. Before that."

"I called you an ass . . . You ass!"

"No . . . In between them two."

"Ya mean when I said that I felt the same way about you?"

"Yeah. That part. What did ya mean by that?"

"Jeeze, Spot! Do you need it spelled out for you? How the hell did you get to be the leader of Brooklyn, anyway? It sure wasn't because you're so smart!"

"Watch your mouth, Higgins. I ain't exactly given up on the idea of killin' you yet!"

The boys stared at each other in silence. It was no more than a few moments, but it seemed like an eternity.

"Admit it, Spot," Race said, making the first move. "You liked what was happening between us. It felt good, and you know it. It happened, and you can't take it back."

Spot knew that Race was right. All of the anger and strength drained from Spot's body, and he slumped down onto the bed. "What do we do now, Race?"

"What do we do now?" Race grinned. "The door is locked, and Jack and David will be gone for a couple of hours. What the hell do you think we're gonna do now?" Race said as he pushed Spot down and climbed on top of him.

"But, Race. We can't - - . . . . Really, Race. We - - . . . . Oh come on, Race. I - - . . . . Ooh, Race! . . . ."

End Chapter 4