Do not ask me why in the world this idea came to me...just merging two of my loves together, I suppose – Newsies and the 1940s. For some very strange reason I started thinking – what if they (our lovable Newsboys) were in the World War II era? How might things go? And this is what I came up with...

PS - The title of this story is taken from an old song.

PSS - I got the chapter title from something not so old -

RUNNING WITH THE MOON


SHOOTING FISH

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She looked up at him through elongated lashes. "I can't believe that this could be our last night together..." Her ruby lips were pouted to perfection.

He slipped on his best attempt at an honest and earnest face. "I know it, baby. You never know what could happen up there..." He flashed his most gorgeous ten million dollar smile. "That's why we gotta take what we can while we can..." He pulled her closer, nestling his face close to hers.

Jimmy Dorsey's Tangerine was blaring out from the local band and the floor was a whirl with swaying and swinging couples. The room was a mess of jabbing elbows and clumsy feet stepping on everyone else. Bodies were packed in like sardines, but no one seemed to mind much. The craze of looming departure filled everyone as soldiers and sailors from various walks of life were preparing to say goodbye – perhaps for the last time. Their sweethearts wrapped around them, postponing the impending doom for another night, another dance, another moment.

A young man with dark sandy hair pushed past, girl in tow. He stopped briefly and looked at the couple, a grin broadening his features. "Heya Spotty! Havin' fun?" He shot him a wink before disappearing amongst the checkers of dancers.

The platinum blond pulled her head up slightly to look at her dance partner. "Can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Shore, sweetheart-"

"Why did your buddy call ya Spotty?"

He grinned. "Cuz I always hit all the targets right on the spot."

"Oh, you were the hot shot in pilot and bombardier training, huh?"

His grin grew devilish. "It ain't just the bombs that I hit in just the right spot, sweetheart..."

Her mouth formed a giant O, and she blushed profusely. "You are a cad, Sergent Conlon!" Though her smile revealed that she liked his crass remarks.

"An' ya love every minute of it."

He maneuvered her around in tight circles on the dance floor – well, more like trudged through the throng of dancing bodies.

"Wanna go for a breather?" he whispered in her ear, his hot breath shivering her skin as she nodded. He grabbed her firmly by the hand, weaving them out of the stifling pack of cadavers and out into the night.

He released her hand as he fumbled in his pocket for his cigarette case and match book. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing each arm to ward off the cold. He popped two Lucky Strikes between his lips, struck a match and lit them both, before discarding the used flame to the dirt. He offered her one of the smoldering sticks, leaving the other to dangle loosely from his lips.

"Thanks." She reached out a delicate hand to accept the cigarette and took what she hoped was a very elegant puff. She offered him a sideways glance and saw him peering up at the crescent moon thoughtfully. "What are ya thinking, Spotty?"

"'Bout the war." He tore his gaze away and turned it down to her. "Same thing the whole damn country's thinkin' about."

"Are ya real afraid to go?"

He was about to say no, that it's his duty to serve his country...yada yada yada, all that jazz, when an inspired thought appeared to him. He littered his face with his most convincing lost boy look and tried to water his eyes a bit. Here's the bait... "Yeah, baby. I'd be a fool not to be..."

She cast her barely smoked cigarette to the ground, opting to hold onto him instead. Her arms wrapped round his waist and her head rested on his shoulder. "You're such a rare man these days. One who can share his feelin's and all. I really like that about ya, Spotty."

He rested his chin on her head, fighting like mad to conceal his burgeoning grin. "Oh, ain't that the truth. But how are we supposed ta go off to war with nothin on our minds when wese gotta leave nice broads like you back home?" He heard a hitch in her breath and he knew that she was biting. She's taken the bait, now to pull her in – slowly.

"Oh, this whole war is so crazy! I don't want ya to go!"

He kissed her head fervently. "I don't wanna go, either, doll. I know we just met the other day, but I gotta tell ya – I'm just crazy for ya, kid."

She pulled her head back to look up into his blue gray eyes. "Are ya really and truly, Spot?"

He nodded solemnly. "Oh yeah, honey. Listen, Greta Garbo ain't got nothin' on ya! And those gams of yours..." he let out a wolfish whistle, tilting his head and looking her up and down blatantly.

Crimson coloured her cheeks as warmth flooded her. "Oh, you probably say that to all the girls..." she weakly protested, waiting for him to contradict her.

"No, no – sweetheart. Just you..." he kissed her tenderly and a wonderful wooziness went over her. "What do ya say we leave this fish bowl?" He asked her softly, running a finger over her jawline.

She swallowed audibly. "Well, my girlfriend is still in there with your buddy..."

Time to reel her in... he thought cockily.

"Oh, they'll be alright. Jacky will take real good care of her, I'm sure." He smirked, tightening his hold on her. "It's like ya said earlier – this could be our last night together. Do you really want to spend it with a hundred other people swingin around ya? Or do ya wanna make it really count?" He gazed at her seductively.

"Ya really care for me?" Her bubblegum eyes flitted up at him.

Oh, this is almost too easy...I should feel guilty – but I don't. "Ya know I care about ya, baby. That's why I took ya out steppin' tonight. I just wanna make sure our time together isn't wasted stayin here all night – I want it all to be special – for you. That's all."

"Oh, Spotty! You're so sweet, thinking of me in such a way! I want it to be special, too."

"I only wish we had somewheres ta go and be alone – I can't very well bring ya back to my barracks..." He gave her the big eyes and then worried that he was laying this act on too thick...

"Oh, well – I guess we could go back to my place...if you want."

...Apparently the innocent act was paying off. "Now, that's a good idea. I can't believe that I didn't think of that."

She smiled, very pleased with herself. "Lemme just pop back inside to tell Sheila that we're leaving," she murmured happily.

"No need for that – looks like she's busy." Spot laughed looking out into the shadows of the building.

She followed his gaze and gasped when she saw what he was referring to. There was her roommate, enveloped in the arms of Jack and she didn't look like she minded too much.

"Come on, baby. Let's go make our last night special...help me keep my mind off all the cockeyed things I'll be up against after tomorrow." He hoped that his voice was sincere enough. He had her almost where he wanted her. Like shooting fish... he thought to himself smugly.

She led the way to her apartment only a few blocks away, a nervous ball of energy bouncing around her belly. As they reached her door, she took her key out, turning it in the keyhole. He pushed the metal door open, standing right behind her and waiting for her to lead him in. She hesitated a moment before turning and looking at him.

"Spotty?"

"Hmm?" He asked, running a hand up and down her arm.

"You're not one of those soldiers that tell a girl they're crazy for them just to get them to – do – certain things with them and then leave them the next morning forever, are ya?" Her words were an anxious rush and it took him a moment to register what she was asking.

He stood there a moment, frozen on the spot. He had a quick decision to make – lie and spend a lovely night with her, but forget about her after the morning – or he could do the honourable thing and leave right now. Fun or decency. She wasn't supposed to actually ask him what his intentions were! Didn't she know how to play this game?

"Spotty?"

He looked at her, the vulnerable, albeit ditzy, girl standing before him. He had only known her for two days, he had intended her to be one of those casual flings. He hadn't intended on her actually putting his morals on the forefront – flat out asking him if he was merely using her. That wasn't fair! Then he couldn't get out on a technicality. He may be a cad but he wasn't a heel. His blue eyes flickered with regret when he knew what he had to do.

"I had a great time with ya, honey. But, ya should go to bed. Goodnight." He placed a kiss on her forehead and turned away, walking down her stoop two steps at a time. He needed to get away from her before he changed his mind. He tipped his hat back on his head. Time to find the nearest bar...

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So, what did you all think? Did you like it? Was it too odd? Would you like to see more or should I leave it at this? Meaning... R – E – V- I – E- W...please?

PS – Before anyone gets miffed at me, I hope to have the next chapter of Old Friends up within the next few days! I'll say Wednesday, tentatively...