I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. I know, I know. You all thought that I did, but you were mistaken.

To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney, but were they mine I would gladly share them with all of you.

I am making no money from this story. (I bet that came as a big surprise to y'all.)

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.
Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.
A/N: As most of you know, my stories have benefited greatly from the guidance and beta skills of SakiSaki. She is now moving on to explore new and exciting things outside of the fanfiction world. I wish her great success, and give her my undying gratitude for all of her help.

I am thrilled to announce that pennylayne has offered to be my new beta. She is one of my all-time favorite authors and one of the nicest and funniest people around. She is also the quintessential overachiever. She not only beta'd this chapter, but has completed the next chapter as well. I have a feeling that I'm in for one heck of a ride!

Chapter 16 – Put the Cat in the Dishwasher

Spot took a long and slow look around the gymnasium. I can't believe it, he thought. Here we are. All of us back together again. Then his eyes traveled to the handsome man lying next to him. Mush was sleeping soundly. So soundly that Spot wondered if his snoring would awaken the others.

Suddenly Mush made a noise that was so loud it made Spot jump. It was a combination snorting, snoring, and coughing sound. Mush sat up in the sleeping bag and looked around the room. It was obvious that he was still half asleep and had no idea where he was.

"It's okay, Mushie," Spot whispered. "You're with me and the guys in the Pulitzer Gym. Go back to sleep." Spot's voice seemed to calm him, and then Mush lay back down and rolled onto his side. The sound of his snoring was again loud and strong.

A combination of pleasure and contentment surrounded Spot as he reached down and stroked Mush's hair. It was so different from his own. Back when they were in school, Spot would often catch himself inadvertently touching the wiry curls. Their unique texture was pleasing to his fingertips.

Spot thought that he was the only one still awake in the gym, and was surprised to hear the sound of paper rustling. It drew his attention across the room to where Jack and David had been sleeping. Jack was now sitting propped against the stage and writing in a notebook.

Spot stroked Mush's hair one last time and then went to sit by Jack.

"Whadda you doin', Jacky-boy?" Spot whispered so he wouldn't wake David.

"I'm writing in my journal," Jack said without looking up. His face was illuminated by a tiny battery-operated book light clamped to his notebook. Spot chuckled inside at the intense expression on Jack's face. His brows were pulled so close together that they almost met, and he'd clenched his lips so tight that they were barely visible.

"You keep a diary?" Spot grinned.

"Uh-huh," Jack answered. He was still writing and deep in his thoughts. His reply was merely a reflex action.

"Who woulda thought it? Cowboy Kelly keeps a diary. You're such a girl, Jack."

"Uh-huh. . . . Huh? What? No! This isn't a diary. It's a journal."

"It's the same thing."

"No, it isn't the same thing. This is something that David talked me into doing back in high school. He said that it would help me to become a better writer. "

"Well, what do you write about?"

"All kinds of stuff. . . . My thoughts mostly. Things like how it feels to be with you guys again, and where I want to be five years from now. Sometimes I get an idea for an article or a story, and I'll write it down while it's still fresh in my mind. Anything I want to remember I write in the journal."

"Your apartment must be loaded with those things if you've been writing since high school?"

"Uh-huh," Jack mumbled, having gone back to his writing. His expression was again intense as his hand moved feverishly across the page. After several minutes, his face softened, then he finished his last few lines and closed the book.

"What's going on?" Tony whispered as he plopped down next to Spot.

"Jacky here was tellin' me about writing in his diary."

"It's not a diary, moron. It's a journal."

"Whatever you say, Cowboy," Spot grinned. "Have you ever kept a journal, Race?"

"Hell no! I prefer to keep my thoughts in my head where they belong. Your secrets aren't secret once you've written them down where anyone can see them. I wouldn't want any of my private business to come back and bite me in the ass later."

"Where's my damn shoes!" David mumbled.

"What the hell?" Tony snorted.

"He's talking in his sleep," Jack chuckled. "He does it all the time. It never makes any sense. Just gibberish, ya know?"

"Gonna be late, Jack," David mumbled. "Gooooonna be late. Put the cat in the dishwasher and let's go!"

"See what I mean?" Jack said trying to quiet his laughter.

"Shit! I feel sorry for your cat," Tony sniggered.

"We don't have a cat. . . Hell, we don't even have a dishwasher!" Jack laughed.

"What's so funny?" David grumbled, lifting his head slightly and glaring at Jack.

"Nothin', Dave," Jack smiled. "You were talking in your sleep again."

"Well, either keep your voices down, or find someplace else to talk!"

Tony and Spot slipped away quietly to avoid the wrath of David.

Jack leaned over and whispered something into David's ear and smiled. David whispered something in return as a broad smile covered his face. Jack kissed him gently and then went to join the others in the bleachers.

"What were you whisperin' to Davey?" Spot asked.

"None of your damn business," Jack smirked.

"Jeeze, it's cold in here," Tony grumbled while rubbing his arms for warmth.

"I've got just the thing to warm you up," Spot said

"Sorry, pal but you ain't my type."

"You should be so lucky, little man," Spot replied. Then he sauntered over to his duffel bag.

"I was referring to this," Spot grinned as he handed Tony a bottle of Irish whiskey.

"My hero!" Tony said, grabbing the bottle. He took two large swallows then passed the bottle to Jack.

"Do you remember the first time we had this stuff?" Spot asked.

"I sure do," Tony laughed. "It was the night of Itey's eighteenth birthday party. I swiped it out of my dad's liquor cabinet. I figured that my mom would never notice it missing. She never touched the stuff and - -"

BANG!

The hallway door of the gym flew open and slammed against the wall. The sound was chilling as it echoed through the empty room.

"What the hell are you degenerates doing in here?!" the intruder shouted.

The bright lights in the hallway back lit the man's body so that his features were unrecognizable. But there was something that Spot and Specs both saw. They noticed immediately. The barrel of a rifle extended from the man's arm.

"Everybody get down!" Spot shouted. He instinctively reached for his gun, but it wasn't there. He had removed the holster when he arrived and stored it with his belongings against the wall.

Specs had already drawn his weapon and was half lying over Dutchy to protect him. "Freeze!" he shouted. "Put your hands where I can see them!"

Spot scrambled across the room and pulled his holster from his duffel. "Drop the gun!" Spot shouted.

Jack made a move to get back to David.

"Stay where you are!" Specs ordered.

Tony's breath caught in his chest as he locked eyes with Chris. They were at least fifty feet apart, and Chris was lying in the path between Specs, Spot, and the intruder.

Tony attempted to move forward, but Chris shook his head pleading for him to stay put.

Tony's heart pounded in his ears as he dug his fingernails into the worn wood of the bleachers. The seconds passed like hours with Chris lying unprotected in the middle of the gym.

There were few moments of confusion with everyone shouting as Spot wrestled the gunman to the ground.

Soon Specs was standing over the intruder with his gun still drawn, and Spot was putting him in handcuffs.

Tony jumped from the bleachers and was at Chris's side before he could make his way out of the sleeping bag.

Spot rolled the man over and gaped at the sight. "Skittery? . . . What the hell?!"

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Specs shouted. "Were you trying to get yourself shot?!"

Specs walked over to what he and Spot thought was a rifle barrel. "Will you look at this?" he called to Spot. "It's a stick ball bat. This jackass almost got himself shot waving a stick ball bat!"

"Damn-it, you guys," Skittery groaned as he struggled against the handcuffs. "It was only a joke. When I looked through the door and saw how quiet you all were I figured that I'd liven things up. It was just a joke."

"Why, you ignorant bastard," Itey hissed. "Take those cuffs off him so I can kick his ass!"

"Oh come on, little brother," Skittery pleaded from the floor. "Where's your sense of humor?"

"Leave those cuffs right where they are!" Tony demanded. "I almost peed myself back there!"

"Calm down, Race," Spot said, trying to defuse the situation. "As much as I'd like to leave him like this, I can't. The only thing he's guilty of is being a moron."

"Damn-it, Spot. If you remove those cuffs, first I'm gonna kick his ass, then I'm gonna kick yours!

"It's okay, Tony," Chris assured him. "It was only a stupid joke. Nobody got hurt."

Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Chris smiled and it was all over. He never could refuse Chris anything once he'd seen that smile. "Fine!" he huffed as he stormed back toward the bleachers.

"Is somebody gonna take these damn cuffs off'a me?!" Skittery shouted.

"Okay, Okay. Hold your water," Specs said, unlocking the cuffs and then offering him a hand up.

They stared at each other for a long moment until Specs turned and walked toward the door. He picked up the stick then quickly tossed it to its owner.

Skittery's eyes never left Specs's. He reached out with one hand and caught the stick with little effort.

"You've still got it," Specs said, nodding with approval.

"Did you have any doubts?" Skittery grinned as he twirled the stick like he'd done so many times before.

A flood of emotions surrounded Specs as he embraced his old friend. He owed Skittery more than he could ever repay. It was Skittery who helped him through the worst time in his life and in Dutchy's life. Specs was sure that without Skittery's help neither of them would have survived Dutchy's drug addiction.

"What the hell are you doing here? Itey didn't tell me that you were coming."

"I didn't know he was coming," Itey grumbled. "What are you doing here? You said that you had to be in LA to cover the Lakers game this weekend."

"I cut a deal with one of the guys back at the station," Skittery said. He reached out and snatched the bottle of whiskey from Spot's hand just as he was about to take a drink. "He agreed to cover this game if I agreed to cover for him on his kid's birthday. I flew out to LA yesterday and did some pre-game interviews. When I was through, I hopped a late flight back to New York. I figured I'd surprise you."

"Well you succeeded," Itey snapped. "How did you get into the building, anyway? I've got this place locked down tighter than a drum."

"I let myself into your place through the back window," Skittery smirked as he took a sip of whiskey. "I remembered where you keep your spare keys, so I took them from the top drawer of your dresser. Then I let myself out your front door and came here."

"You broke into my apartment? . . . You shit!"

"Now, now, Brother Joseph," Skittery smirked. "You wouldn't want Sister Regina to find out that you've been using that kind of language."

Skittery took another drink, and then handed the bottle back to Spot. "So what have I missed?" he asked.

"Well, the Pulitzer business has been put on hold until tomorrow," Itey replied.

"Mostly we've been talking about old times," Jack said. "Well, all except for Race that is. The only thing he wants to talk about is the astronomical amount of incredible sex he and Blink have had over the years. . . . And be careful where you sit," Jack warned. "The two of them have had sex on just about every surface in this place!"

Everyone, especially Jack, was waiting for one of Tony's witty replies, but none came. Tony hadn't gotten over the fright of seeing Chris caught in the line of fire. He didn't even hear Jack. All he heard was the sound of his own heart as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

"Jack's just jealous," Chris smirked, tightening his grip around Tony's shoulder. "He's gotten old and can't keep up."

"You mean, Jack's gotten old and can't keep it up," Spot laughed.

"Stop picking on Jack," David smirked. "I told you before that he's damn good in that department."

"Jeeze!" Itey groaned. "You guys talk about sex more than my eighth-graders!"

"Jealousy's an ugly thing, little brother," Skittery laughed, tousling Itey's hair.

"So are you," Itey grumbled, smacking Skittery's hand away from his head.

"Anyway," Jack said regaining control of the conversation. "We were just talking about the time Race stole the bottle of Irish whiskey from his dad's liquor cabinet so he could bring it to Itey's eighteenth birthday party."

"I remember how much I was looking forward to that party," Chris said. "It seemed like Tony had been away forever."

-o-o-o-o-

The day after her husband's funeral, Mrs. Higgins took Reggie and Tony to visit her sister in Manhattan. They were gone for more than three weeks.

Sister Mary Larkson had prepared the children's lessons in advance so they wouldn't fall behind on their studies.

Tony and Chris talked on the phone whenever they could, but spent most of their spare time writing to each other.

Tony missed Chris terribly, but he knew that his mother needed this time away from home. He was, however, more than ready to come home after the second week when he received his eighth letter from Chris.

Dear Race,

I miss you very much. I hope your mom is feeling better. Tell her and Reggie that I said hi.

School stinks without you. Everything stinks without you. Homework stinks with or without you.

Thursday is Itey's eighteenth birthday. He still refuses to have his birthday party until Reggie comes back. I'm glad because I don't want to go without you. He really likes Reggie. Do you think that they are in love? He said that the party will be on the 19 th. You are still going to be home on the 17th aren't you? I know that you have to be with your mom and Reggie but I wish you could come home sooner. I really miss you.

All of the guys say hi. All except for Mush. He doesn't say anything to anybody. What's up with that?

I have a funny story to tell you. Jack and I were shooting hoops in my driveway and I missed the shot and got the ball stuck on the roof. I climbed out my mom's bedroom window to get the ball, and I fell off the roof and broke my leg.

Don't worry! I am okay! Jack drove me to the hospital and they put on a cast. It goes from my foot all the way up almost to my hip. Spot's pissed because I won't let anybody sign the cast until you do. Spot only wants to write stuff on it that I wouldn't want the doctor or my mom to read anyway. I can't go to school until next week, so Attila sent me the same homework that she gave you. Getting a week off from school is pretty cool, but it would be a lot more fun if you were with me. The bad part is that I'm off the swim team. The season will be over before I'm back on my feet. Ha Ha. Do you get it? Back on my feet? I'm kinda pissed because Coach said that I could have easily taken all county.

I miss you very very much. I hope that you miss me too. I will write you again tomorrow.

Love, Blink

P.S. I almost forgot to tell you. Itey said that Specs and Skittery caught Dutchy and Email buying drugs. It was coke. I guess Dutchy is a lot more screwed up than we thought he was.

End Chapter 16

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