I do not own Newsies. Disney owns Newsies. Disney owns almost everything.

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.

I am making no money from this story, so my chances of purchasing any of the above are slim to none.

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

Beta credit for this chapter goes to the amazing pennylayne. Her own busy schedule gives her little time to breathe, but she still found the time to help me. She's not only the quintessential overachiever, she's an amazing person. Check out her work at FanFiction and The Refuge. Also, check out her work with Frisky Wallabee at the Wonder Twins LJ.

Chapter 22 – Getting to Know You

"Yep," Itey said as he tossed his brother a bottle of beer and opened one for himself. "Who would have thought that out of all these losers, you and I would have ended up single?"

"Well, you ended up closer than me, Brother Itey. At least you and Reggie are still together in a totally weird and non-sexual sort of way."

Chris dug his fingers into Tony's arm, stifling the outburst that he knew was about to erupt.

"Your eighteenth birthday party seemed like the start of a whole new world for us, didn't it, brother?"

"I'll drink to that," Itey said, clinking his bottle against Skittery's.

As Irish strolled around the utility room, her attention was drawn to the workbench on the opposite wall. The work area itself was not unusual, but the walls surrounding it were. They were covered with photographs. There were baby pictures, communion portraits, school photos, and a couple of prom shots. Some were in frames while others were held up with thumbtacks. They were all pictures of the Callo children, except for a few shots of Skittery's mother and a portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Callo at their wedding.

"That's quite a collection, isn't it?"

Irish hadn't noticed Skittery come back into the room and jumped when she heard his voice. "I hope you don't mind that I took a look around," she said, feeling like she'd been caught snooping.

"Nah," he smiled, handing her a fresh drink. "My dad calls this room his sanctuary. He hides in here when he wants to get some peace and quiet. This house can get pretty crazy when all of us are home at the same time."

"Do you ever feel lost, being part of such a large family?"

"Not at all! I feel damn lucky to be a part of this family. My mom always says that she and my dad would welcome as many children as God saw fit to bless them with. Dad agreed with her until number twelve arrived. Now he says that if he sees the stork trying to land at our house again, he's gonna shoot him and make Mom cook him for Sunday supper."

"How does your dad remember who is who in all of these pictures? There are only four kids in my family, and my dad can't tell one of us from another in our bay pictures."

"Dad's really good at organizing things. You have to be when you have a family this size. He's hung the pictures in rows by age from the oldest to the youngest. This is Seraphina, then me, then Itey, Emilio, Antonia, then the twins, Paulo and Leonora, then Maddelena, Pietro, Isabella, Ernesto, and over here is the baby, Anna."

Irish looked up at the second photo in one of the rows and began to giggle. "Is that you?" she asked, pointing at a snapshot of a toddler sporting short pants and knobby knees.

"Yep. That's little Skittery."

"You were adorable."

"I'm still adorable." Skittery grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"And you're modest, too," Irish scoffed, rolling her eyes. "So how did little Giovanni get the nickname Skittery?"

"Well, it was my grandparents' first Fourth of July after moving here from Italy, and my parents took us all to the town picnic to celebrate. There were only three of us kids back then. Seraphina was six years old, I was three, and Itey was just a baby. Now, the way my dad tells the story is that every time a firecracker went off, I'd get scared and start to cry."

"Didn't the noise bother Itey? He was only a little baby."

"Nah. You know Itey. It takes a lot to get him fired up. I, on the other hand, cried all day until it got dark and the big fireworks display started. My dad says that when the first shot went off I let out a blood-curdling scream, and Grandpa Callo picked me up and covered my ears. He was really pissed at my dad and started yelling at him in broken English, 'You should be ashamed for yourself! This poor little baby, he's skittery and should be home asleep in the bed and not with strangers and cannons blowing-up!' Then Dad got mad at Grandpa for telling him how to run his family and they started yelling at each other in Italian. Grandpa was so angry that he stormed out of the park with me still screaming in his arms. When the rest of the family got home, they found Grandpa and me asleep in the rocking chair. It took three days for Grandpa to start speaking to my dad again. After that, they all started calling me the skittery baby. Eventually the baby part was dropped, and everyone just called me Skittery."

"Oh, that's so sweet," Irish cooed.

"Yeah," Skittery smirked, moving closer. "All the girls tell me that I'm incredibly sweet."

"I'll say one thing about you, Skittery Callo. You definitely do not have an inferiority complex," Irish chuckled as she moved away, reaching for her drink. Before her hand reached its destination, Skittery took hold of it and laced his fingers with hers. "Don't you think that I'm sweet?" he asked, pulling her closer.

Irish could feel the heat rising from her neck to the top of her head, and she was convinced that her palm was beginning to sweat. "You're okay, I suppose," Irish feigned a laugh, pulling back her hand and moving further away. Then she took a large swallow of her drink, hoping that it would cool the hot flush of her face.

"Maybe you just need to get to know me. I may grow on you," he smiled.

"I could give it a try," she said, glancing at him sideways, then immediately moving her eyes back to her drink.

"Irish, am I making you nervous?'

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Well you're trying very hard not to look me in the eye. I was thinking that maybe you were afraid of me."

"Afraid? Of you? Don't make me laugh!" Irish snapped, now looking him straight in the eye. "I . . . ." She struggled for words but none came. She'd never seen Skittery's eyes so intense.

After a long, long moment, Skittery raised his hand and ran his thumb along her cheek. "I want to kiss you," he said with eyes fixed on hers.

Irish took a half-step back, but Skittery quickly closed the gap between them. "Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked, reaching up and stroking her hair.

"I . . ." The words stuck in her throat and came out dry and raspy. "I'm not sure," she answered honestly.

Skittery gently lifted her face to his and leaned down to kiss her. Their lips barely touched, but it was enough to coax a soft yet audible sigh from the back of her throat.

"I guess that answers my question," Skittery grinned as he pulled away.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I heard that little squeaky noise you made when I kissed you, so don't pretend that you didn't like it. What kind of noise are you gonna make when I really kiss you?" he asked, sliding his hand around her waist.

"If your ego gets any bigger you won't be able to get your head through that door." Irish bristled, trying to cover her embarrassment.

"Stop acting like you're the last virgin at a pagan ritual. I was going to kiss you, not throw you into a volcano!"

"Excuse me, Romeo, but I didn't agree to meet you here tonight for a quick game of grab and tickle. And if you thought that you were going to get your jollies off with me in here tonight, you are most definitely mistaken!"

"No, I didn't think that I was gonna get my jollies off here tonight! There are enough bars and parties around campus where I could have gotten that. And to be honest, I wouldn't have to try hard to get it!"

"You do think highly of yourself, don't you?"

"No, I don't! I'm trying to be honest with you. I like you a lot, and I want to get to know you better. And maybe if you take that stick out of your ass and shut up for a minute, you'd realize that you like me too! Now, if you think that kissing me is that repulsive, you can go back out and sit with Snoddy Morrison and torture him."

Skittery turned Irish around and gave her a nudge toward the door. She, in turn, spun back around and gave him a hard shove to the chest.

"First of all, I don't need your permission to go and sit with anyone! If I want to sit with Snoddy, then I'll go out there and sit with him! It just so happens that I don't want to sit with him! Second of all, I didn't say that kissing you was repulsive, so don't go putting words in my mouth! And third, what to you mean I have a stick up my ass?! Just because I didn't jump into your arms doesn't mean that - -"

"Wait a minute. Go back one."

"What do you mean, got back one?! Go back one what?!"

"Go back to the part about kissing me."

"What about it?!"

"You said that kissing me wasn't repulsive."

"So!"

"So that means that you liked kissing me, doesn't it?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Hah! You liked me kissing you and you know it!" Skittery laughed.

"Skittery Callo, you are the most infuriating person that I've ever met!" Irish shouted as she turned away.

"Skittery put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. "You know, it's okay to like kissing me," he whispered against her ear. A warm tingle spread across her body as his hot breath ghosted her neck. "I liked kissing you," he breathed, kissing her jaw.

The feel of Skittery's lips against her skin strangled any thoughts Irish may have had of moving away. She gasped in a breath as his mouth made its way down the length of her neck. Then, when Skittery kissed her collarbone, she tilted her head and leaned back against him.

Skittery turned Irish around and again stroked her hair. He stared into her eyes for just a moment and then gently took her face into his hands and kissed her.

This didn't feel like it did when Snoddy had kissed her. This didn't feel like it did when anyone else had kissed her. She barely noticed the sound of her own breathing as it became rapid and uneven. The butterflies in her stomach moved lower and soon turned into an intent and fervent ache.

Suddenly all those health classes with Sister Mary Larkson flashed through Irish's mind. She could have sworn that she actually heard the Sister's voice giving the standard Catholic school virginity speech.

"There are many temptations out there and you must fight against them. Never allow yourself to be put into a situation where your values can be compromised. A good girl will remain strong when faced with sinful temptation."

"Shut up, Sister Mary," Irish mumbled against Skittery's lips.

"What?!" Skittery gasped pushing himself away.

"Nothing," Irish breathed, pulling him back to her and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I'll be right back," Tony said after getting Chris situated back on the corner toy chest. He found Reggie and Itey standing by the tape deck searching through Itey's cassettes. "Thanks, man." Tony said, reaching to shake Itey's hand.

"Don't mention it," Itey replied.

"Ever!" Reggie snapped, punching Tony in the arm.

"Ouch!" Tony grumbled rubbing his arm. "That hurt!"

"Good!" Reggie snarled. "Now go away and leave Itey and me alone. And don't you dare bother us again. Do you understand?!"

"Okay, okay," Tony said, still rubbing his arm. It always amazed him how someone as tiny as Reggie could hit so hard.

Tony begrudgingly kept his word and left Reggie and Itey alone, but he almost lost it when they got up to slow dance. When he saw Itey pull Reggie close to him, Tony jumped out of his seat, but Chris pulled him back down onto the bench and reminded him of his promise.

Spot was no longer sitting in the corner pining over Mush. He was making his way through the crowd to Tony and Chris. "Have either of you seen Skittery?" he asked with his eyes scanning the room.

"The last time I saw him, he and Irish were headed for the utility room, but that was more than an hour ago," Chris replied.

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked, judging Spot's expression.

"Not yet," Spot replied.

Skittery's tongue moved urgently against Irish's lips and pleaded for entrance. When it was granted, Irish again made an audible sound, but this time it wasn't a squeaky sigh that escaped her throat, it was a deep and unmistakable groan. The sound made Skittery's blood race faster and he shifted their position to press Irish against the workbench.

Their breathing became shallow and labored, and the feel of Irish pressed against him sent Skittery's blood surging below his belt. They were both lost in the moment as they writhed against one another. Skittery opened the top button of Irish's dress, and his lips moved lower. When she felt his hand move slowly up her thigh, she instinctively wrapped her leg around his.

Neither Skittery nor Irish heard the knocking at the door. When they didn't answer, the knocking became louder and more persistent.

"Go away!" Skittery shouted then pressed his mouth to cover Irish's.

"It's me, Spot. Open the door."

"Get away from that door, Spot, or so help me I'm gonna—"

Before Skittery could finish his sentence, Spot pushed open the door. He pretended not to notice that Skittery had Irish half lying on the workbench, and his hand was three-quarters the way up her thigh.

"Sorry, Irish," Spot said, only glancing in her direction. "Skitts, you need to come out here right now."

"Damn it, Conlon!" Skittery shouted, moving to shield Irish from his view while she straightened herself.

"I'm not fuckin' with you, Skitts. You need to get out here right now!"

End Chapter 22

A/N:

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