A/N: Newsies = Not Mine

+Another Rainy Day+

It had definitely been another rainy day in Manhattan, but for the time being, the sky finally seemed purged of every last raindrop. The sudden end to the rain was a relief to most, since it had been a constant stream of storms over the past two days. The weather had been so foul that it made selling newspapers practically impossible for the newsies, which meant they had a few, well deserved days off. However, they had been cooped up inside the Lodging House for nearly two days; the break in precipitation couldn't have come at a more convenient hour.

"Looks like I win again, fellas," Blink said proudly, laying his cards on the table. He beamed around the table at the sour expressions on the four other boys' faces.

"Unbelievable, that's the third game in a row," Skittery grumbled, shaking his head. He tossed his cards across the table. "I think we've been cheated."

"Yeah," agreed Racetrack, pulling the cigar from his mouth as he eyed up Blink suspiciously. "How's it ya got so good all of the sudden, Blink?"

Blink smiled broadly as he scooped his winnings into his hat and shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe 'cause I been watchin' you bums play for two days straight."

All of them simply shook their heads in disbelief, unable to find words to express how losing to Blink in three straight games made them feel.

"Anyone up for another game?" Blink asked cheerfully, giving the cards what he thought was a very professional shuffle, but he ended up dropping half of them on the floor.

Racetrack shrugged. "I'll go one more, just to see if I can't beat ya. It's Jack's deal."

Blink passed the cards to Jack, who proceeded to shuffle the deck in a more skilled manner.

Skittery stood, holding up his hands in defeat. "I'm out. I've lost enough money already."

Slowly, he trudged over to his bunk. On rainy days, such as these, there wasn't much else to do besides play cards and catch up on some sleep. Having already played nearly twenty games, poker was quickly losing it's appeal, especially when he had lost the last five hands. Stuffing the few coins he had left into his hidden store, Skittery departed from the bunk room to see what was happening downstairs. He had just crossed in front of the reception desk, heading toward the back hall, when a small figure barrelled into him. Skittery stumbled slightly, catching the culprit with his hands, steadying them both.

"Tumbler!" Skittery sighed, exasperated by this repeated offense over the last few days. "Slow down, will ya?"

"Sorry, Skittery. I forgot," Tumbler replied quickly, flashing him a whimsical grin.

"Where ya goin', huh? Are ya leavin', 'cause it stopped raining?"

Skittery glanced toward the window, but the outside darkness made it difficult to tell from inside if the rain really had stopped. Turning back to the curious face beaming up at him, Skittery looked at the small boy thoughtfully.

"I was comin' to see what you was doin', but if the rain's stopped, I think I'll go for a walk."

"Can I come with ya? Can I, Skittery? Huh? Can I?"

"Yeah, alright, but you gotta promise me one thing," Skittery replied, raising a serious eyebrow at Tumbler, who vigorously nodded his compliance. "When I say so, ya have to turn back. Alright?"

"Sure, Skitts," Tumbler agreed with a small shrug of his shoulders. He turned and bounding out the front door; propping open the door and looking back, he called, "Ya comin' or what?"

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Skittery followed Tumbler onto the street, careful not to step in any of the millions of puddles that had settled on the pavement. Even though sky was no longer leaking, water continued to rain down from the rooftops and trees that ran along the streets, making their journey slightly more difficult than they anticipated. Skittery tried to avoid the drippings when possible, but Tumbler was more than content running directly beneath them, laughing as he went.

It was easy to admire the young boy for being so carefree, skipping about the streets without a second thought for what he was doing. Skittery chuckled, as Tumbler was nearly to the end of the street, and quickened his pace to a light jog in order to catch up.

"Ya gotta slow down, kid. I'm too old to be chasing after ya," Skittery complained lightly, giving Tumbler a gentle shove.

"Awe, Skitts, ya ain't thatold!" Tumbler said, adjusting his lopsided hat and giving the older newsie a wide grin. Slowing to a walk, he stayed quietly at Skittery's side for a few moments, but as silence didn't exactly suit Tumbler, he began an interrogation. "So, where are ya goin', huh, Skittery? Will ya tell me? Please?"

Skittery pursed his lips, giving the question some consideration before answering. Where he was going was really much of a secret, but making a game out of it would keep Tumbler occupied while they walked. He grinned slyly. "You gotta guess."

Tumbler's eyes lit up in delight; he liked a challenge. He rubbed his hands together as he carefully thought about where his friend might be headed. "Are ya goin' to the store?"

"Nope."

"Are ya goin' to a pub?"

Skittery quirked a brow at his young friend. "No, Tumbler, I ain't goin' to a pub."

The younger boy was quiet again as he was thinking very hard. He gave a snap of his fingers, eyes bright with a conclusion. Skittery nodded, urging the kid to speak, thinking he finally had it figured out.

"Yer goin' to Anthony Street, ain't ya?"

"What!?" Skittery exclaimed loudly, stopping dead in his tracks. His eyes narrowed in a shocked disbelief; that was the last thing he had ever expected to come tumbling from a kid's mouth. "How do you know about Anthony Street?"

Tumbler dropped his gaze, realizing that he had said something foolish. He toed at the ground while he spoke. "Well, I--uh--I heard Jack and Racetrack talkin' 'bout it one time. They was sayin' how it's a good place to have some fun late at night. So, I just thought..." He gave a small, innocent shrug.

Running a hand over his flushed face, Skittery groaned. He leaned forward so that he was eye level with Tumbler. "Look, Tumbler, I don't want you goin' anywhere near Anthony Street. It ain't yer kind of fun, alright? Promise me, kid."

"Yeah, alright, Skitts. I won't."

"Good," he said, straightening up. "Now, I'll give ya one more guess, alright? And ya better make it a good one."

They crossed the street while Tumbler sank back into his thoughts, searching for the answer.

"Yer goin' to see Tug, ain't ya?"

"Geez, it took ya long enough. I thought it was obvious," Skittery replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He cuffed Tumbler in the back of the head playfully, shaking his head as he muttered, "Anthony Street, good grief."

"Awe, Skittery, can't I go with ya? I ain't seen Tug in a while," Tumbler said, putting on his best whiny voice. "Please?"

"No, Tumbler," Skittery replied firmly. He hadn't seen Tug in a while either, since the day the damp weather had settled in -- two days ago, which seemed like an eternity; especially after being cooped up in the Lodging House all that time.

If it had been any other time, he might have let Tumbler go along, but Skittery had been feeling a little selfish lately, when it came to Tug. He was tired of always having to share her with the other boys. And it wasn't even so much that he felt threatened by them -- really the situation couldn't be helped, they were her friends too -- but he was becoming very frustrating because it often felt like he was competing for her attention when they were with the other newsies, and Skittery didn't want to feel that way.

So, for at least tonight, Skittery was going to keep Tug to himself. Besides, he knew that Tumbler wouldn't just say hello and leave, he would end up staying half the night, and Skittery couldn't have that. Fortunately he knew exactly what to say to dissuade his young friend.

"It wouldn't be much fun for ya anyway. I mean, I ain't seen Tug in a while either. So...ya know what that means, don't ya?"

"No, what?"

"There'll be lots of kissin'," Skittery replied, grinning.

"Kissin'?" he retorted, making an awful retching noise and crinkling his nose in complete disgust. "Yer right, that ain't no fun."

Skittery snorted, giving his head a little shake. He sighed. "When the right girl comes along ya might just change yer mind."

"Is Tug the right girl for you, Skitts?" Tumbler asked, looking up at his friend earnestly.

Skittery stopped and turned on his heel, looking thoughtfully up at the night sky and replied, "Maybe." He gave a shrug and jostled Tumbler's hat as he looked back down at him. "Alright, you better head back now. I'll see ya later."

"Okay," he replied halfheartedly, holding out hope that Skittery would change his mind. "Tell her I says hello, alright?"

"Sure, kid," Skittery said with a wave and watched Tumbler skip off back where they had just come.

It wasn't much further to the building where Tug lived with her mother; just over one more block and through an alley. It wouldn't be the first time he had gone to visit her during the late hours of the night; all during the summer, on the more pleasant nights, the two of them had spent a countless number of hours together, sitting on the fire escape outside Tug's apartment, alone. What with having to sneak behind Mrs. Connolly's back and finding ways to escape their ever lingering mess of newsie friends, the late night hours had been the only private time they were able to manage.

Nearing the building, Skittery could see a figured silhouetted against the lighted window he knew to be Tug's apartment. Stealthily, he ascended the wrought iron construction, taking the stairs two at a time, up to the third level where she was waiting.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come," Tug breathed quietly, watching him scale the final flight of stairs with a satisfied grin.

A smile stretched slowly across Skittery's face when her face caught the light; she looked particularly fetching in a simple cotton dress. It wasn't often that he got to see this side of her, but it was always a pleasant surprise when he did. As she flushed slightly under his gaze, the question that Tumbler had asked him surfaced to his mind--Is Tug the right girl for you, Skitts?--and in that moment there was no doubt in his mind that she was perfect.

He pulled her from her seat and into his arms in one swift motion, grinning like a loon.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, giving a soft chuckled just before their lips came together. Skittery pulled her closer, only then realizing how much he had missed her over the past couple of days.

"I've got something to tell ya," Tug said when they finally parted. She chewed her bottom lip nervously, moving to lean against the railing. Skittery quirked a brow in response and she continued softly, "Ma found out about me."

Skittery's eyebrows flew upward in shock; that wasn't exactly what he had been expecting to hear because everything had been running smoothly for so long. He knew that Mrs. Connolly didn't want Tug being a newsie, and finding out that her daughter had gone against her wishes wasn't likely to go over well, which could have some serious effects on their relationship.

Shifting uneasily and frowning, he replied, "How?"

"The other day--after I left the Lodge--she was already here when I got back. Said she got off early and went lookin' for me over at the Garrett's. Of course, they told her I ain't been there in months. It didn't take much for her to piece everything together, I'm sure. I had to do a lot of explaining that night."

"And?" Skittery pressed, anxious for the reaction. "How'd she take it?"

"Well, she wasn't happy at first --"

"Naturally."

"And, I mean, she still ain't pleased about all the lies I told her, but--I think she has a bit of an understanding as to why I did it. Although, she hasn't exactly said whether or not I can still be a newsie, I think she'll come around. So, in the mean time, I've been doin' lots of work around the house as a punishment." Tug gave a small shrug. "I think the biggest issue she has, is that she's worried about my safety."

Skittery brushed a hand against her cheek and grinned. "She ain't got nothing to worry about, ya know that, right? We take care of ya, me and the fellas."

Tug smiled faintly. "Yeah, I know that, but she don't. It's not any easy thing to explain, especially 'cause she don't like that yer all boys."

"Did ya tell her about us?" Skittery asked, but when her eyes slide away from his, he knew she hadn't. He let out a small exasperated sigh.

"It just wasn't the right time, ya know? I didn't know how to tell her, but I will--soon. I promise."

"Yeah, alright," Skittery replied, not quite convinced by her promise. He didn't like that Tug was keeping their relationship from her mother; she was already angry with Tug for lying about being a newsie. How would she take to finding out about him?

It was something that Skittery had thought about on occasion--Mrs. Connolly finding out about his relationship with daughter -- and it always brought a swarm of butterflies into his stomach. It was particularly nerve-racking because Tug's mother was obviously very protective, and Skittery wasn't entirely sure the idea would go over well; especially because he was a newsie and he knew where she stood on that issue. There was also the idea that most mothers want the best for their daughters, wanting them to be courted by someone in a more suitable position than he currently was in. He was, after all, just scraping by to make a living for himself, with no real ambitions or ideas as to what he would do when he could be a newsie anymore. Usually, when his thoughts traveled toward the future Skittery had to stop himself; there was no use trying to predict what the future held for him, because for now he was content with the present.

"So--um--what you been doin' the last few days?" Tug asked after a silence filled the air for a few moments. She wanted to move past the daunting subject of her mother.

Shrugging, Skittery reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a match. He scratched the match across the railing to spark a light, then touched it to the end of the cigarette. Taking a long drag, he plucked the cylinder from his lips and replied,

"Well, let's see...I slept, played cards with the fellas, did some eatin', slept some more, played more cards--lost a day's pay to Kid Blink--and, uh, slept."

"Sounds exciting," Tug said with a smirk. "I just have one question. How'd ya lose that much money to Blink? I mean, even I've beat him before."

Exhaling a puff of smoke irritably, the memory still painfully close, Skittery scowled, "I dunno, really. He's just lucky, I guess. Racetrack and Jack were gonna play him one last time, but I couldn't afford to lose anymore money, so I left when they was startin' a new game."

A thought suddenly hit him, as the earlier events of the night ran through his mind.

"Tumbler says hello, by the way. He walked with me some of the way here."

"Awe, that's sweet. He must've caught ya in a good mood, huh?" she said, playfully jabbing him in the side.

Skittery chuckled, catching her prodding fingers. "You'd never guess what that kid said to me --"

He stopped short. Tug had suddenly squeezed his hand tightly; a soft gasp escaped her lips; her eyes widened with some unexplainable fear, staring at the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Shhh..." she hissed, pressing a finger to her lips. Very slowly, she crept toward the window. A severe, tense expression narrowed her features as she listened to the sounds that were coming from inside the apartment.

There was only one person left on the other side of that curtain who could be making noise--Mrs. Connolly.

The reality of the situation had barely sunk in when Mrs. Connolly's panicked voice rose when she discovered that Tug was missing from her bed on the sofa.

"Claire? Where are you, Claire?"

Her eyes darted to every corner of the fire escaped, looking for a possible solution, but nothing looked promising. Skittery's heart starting rabbiting with the anticipation of being caught. Acting quickly, Tug pushed Skittery against the wall next to the window and called out, trying to keep her voice as even as possible,

"Calm down, Ma, I'm right here."

Tug held Skittery's gaze for a moment and gave his hand another, more reassuring squeeze. Ripping her eyes from his, she turned back to the window, her mother's footsteps growing closer.

"What're ya doin' out there? Yer gonna catch yer death!"

Tug ducked her head through the window. "I just needed some fresh air?"

Skittery could feel the bricks against his back as he flattened himself against the wall. It was bad enough that Mrs. Connolly didn't know about him, but more than likely it wasn't going to help their cause to be caught like this. It was well past respectable visiting hours, but then again, the girl he wasn't seeing wasn't exactly the conventional type, in appearance or actions. Still, he couldn't help the nerves that were swelling up inside of him as Tug and her mother exchanged a few more words.

And then it happened...

Hoping to clam his nerves a bit, Skittery breathed in slowly through his nose, trapping the air in his lungs. It was just then that he felt a little tickle inside his nose. He gave it a twitch, praying that it would pass; it didn't. He rubbed his nose furiously, trying to alleviate the itch, but it only seemed to make it worse. He eyes started to water as he tried unsuccessfully to hold it back -- and then he let loose a sneeze that sent all of that pent up air rushing from his body. He could have sworn that it echoed down the alleyway. The moment it passed, he regained the hold on his breath, hoping that it hadn't been as loud as he had thought.

It wasn't quite that loud, but it most definitely did not go unnoticed.

"Did ya hear that sneeze?"

"Umm," Tug said indifferently, swatting at Skittery with her closest hand.

"Is there someone out there with you, Claire?"

Mrs. Connolly's voice was now very close to the window.

"Move," she ordered. Reluctantly, Tug stepped back from the window, fearful eyes locked on Skittery, who was slightly concealed in the shadows. Mrs. Connolly pushed aside the curtain and leaned out the window. She took one look at Tug and followed her daughter's gaze. She let out a sharp gasp and clutched at her chest. Her face hardened as she looked between the pair of them. "Both of you, get inside--now!"

Skittery caught Tug's eye for too brief a moment before she ducked into the room. He followed, heart hammering against his chest, wishing he could dash down the fire escape instead, but he knew that would help anything. He straightened up, standing beside Tug, waiting for the moment when Mrs. Connolly would start yelling at them -- adults always yelled at him when they wanted to get their point across. Skittery avoided the piercing stare that Tug's mother had locked on them; he was afraid of what her expression might reveal. He studied the tops of his brown shoes, instead, noting their scruffiness. His cheeks warmed as he suddenly felt very embarrassed by his shabby state; this was not the impression he would have liked to make with Tug's mother.

"We've met once before, haven't we?" Mrs. Connolly said, directing her first inquiry toward Skittery. "You came once, earlier in the summer--Scooter or something, right?"

Skittery felt his face flush even more at the error in her recollection. Swallowing hard, he forced his eyes upward to meet hers; her expression was hard, her mouth turned down in a frown, and her arms were folding over her chest -- but in her eyes, he thought saw traced of amusement. It was this subtle indication of hope that fueled him with the courage to speak.

"Skittery, ma'am."

"Oh yes, right...Skittery," she said with a great distaste, like she had the first time she met him. "Yer a newsboy, aren't ya?"

"Yes, ma'am."

It surprised him when suddenly a smile broke across Mrs. Connolly's face. She shifted her brightened gaze toward her daughter.

"So, is this the reason for all this newsie business, Claire? Why didn't ya just tell me?"

Tug's eyebrows furrowed, slightly flabbergasted by her mother's reaction; it was not what either of them had been expecting. "I--I didn't know how to tell ya. I thought you'd be upset."

"Well, I would have rather ya told me, than finding out like this. There is a more appropriate time for him to come callin' on you. This will be the last time he visits this late at night, ya hear? I don't want anyone gettin' any ideas about how I raised ya. I mean, ya know how folks like to talk."

"Ma!" Tug groaned, blushing furiously.

"Yes, ma'am," Skittery replied quickly, wanting to stay on Mrs. Connolly's good side while he had it. "I don't think it will be necessary anymore."

As he tried to look sincere and convincing in his claim, he felt Tug's hand brush against his, making his expression even more difficult to know. It was like he could read her mind through that brief contact; he knew that Tug didn't believe a word he said.

"You know I had a good feelin' about you," Mrs. Connolly said, smiling warmly at Skittery. "Call it a mother's instinct, but I knew there something about ya; I could feel it in my bones."

"Oh, Ma!" Tug groaned, rolling her eyes; Mrs. Connolly just smile. Sighing heavily, Tug looked at her mother skeptically. "So, ya don't mind me seein' Skittery?"

"If you're happy than I have no objections. However, seein' as it's rather late now, I think it's time Sk--no! No, I really can't possibly you that ridiculous name. You must have a real name, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's Sam."

"I think, Sam, that it is time for you to be leavin' --"

"Can't he just stay a little longer?" Tug begged.

"Say good night, sweetheart." Mrs. Connolly gave a firm nod and crossed toward the bedroom; she looked back once she reached the door. "I'll give ya two minutes."

With only two minutes left together, Skittery wanted to make the most of it, but Tug gave him a warning look.

"She's probably watching," Tug said in a low voice, glancing pointedly toward the bedroom door.

"So what?"

"So, ya better keep it modest, alright?" She slipped her hand into his and grinned.

Leaning in, he pecked her on the cheek and smirked. "How's that?"

"Lousy, but it'll have to do," Tug replied, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Pray that it don't rain tomorrow. I can't stand another day stuck here."

"Alright, time's up," Mrs. Connolly announced, stepping back into the room. She crossed to the door, holding it open for Skittery. "Sam, why don't you come 'round for dinner tomorrow? Say, six o'clock? Yer usually done by then?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Connolly. Good night."

"Good night, Sam."

Stepping out the door, Skittery glanced one final time at Tug, who had sunk unhappily onto the sofa; her eyes lit up when she caught his gaze and she gave him a knowing little half smile before the door shut. As he walked back toward Duane Street, Skittery marveled at how well Mrs. Connolly had taken everything. Perhaps she wasn't quite as overbearing as Tug always made her out to be; she had, after all, accepted him--a disheveled, newspaper selling street rat--and his love for her daughter. He looked up at the starry night sky, suddenly perplexed by his own thoughts. Love? Was that what this was turning into? Maybe she really was the right girl for him...