Hello all! Pleased to be back (for now). I apologize for the somewhat poor quality of this; it was written a good while back and I've just edited it a bit to make it more bearable. This is a part of a series of songfics I am/will be writing. Enjoy, and review with constructive criticisms please!
Disclaimer: Sadly, thephantomphoenix does not own that stroke of genius known as Newsies. If she did, she would most definitely not be wasting her time writing fanfictions about it. She doesn't owen "Punch Drunk Love", either; that glorious group known as the Summer Set does.
OoOoO
Funny, cute and kissable, I found a girl that makes me lose control.
It was a warm, stormy summer evening when Spot Conlon stumbled into the Manhattan lodging house, a bit shaken from his adventure in the rain. The man who owned the place, Kloppman, Spot thought he was called, nodded and waved him up. Arriving in the bunkroom, Spot was shocked to realize nobody noticed
his entrance; every eye in the room was trained on a strawberry-blonde girl playing cards with Racetrack. Walking over and observing the game, Spot was certain that his friend would win, when the girl showed
her cards and revealed a royal flush.
Spot began to gape at the girl; he'd never seen anyone beat Racetrack at poker, not even himself. Somehow, this mystery girl had taken all of his friend's money and caught Spot's attention all at once. Her eyes met his, and her vibrant baby blues met his icy ones.
"Take a picture," she snickered, grabbing the damp hat off Spot's head and placing it on her own. "It'll last longer."
"Ya got a mouth on ya, girly," Spot said, snatching his hat back and replacing it. The girl smirked, and Spot realized how cute that smirk was. He was hooked. "Ya got a name, doll?"
"It's Angel," she said, offering her hand once she had spit in it. Spot smirked and did the same, thinking how perfect her nickname was for her. Angel took her hand back and placed it on her hip. "An' da next time ya call me 'doll', I'se gonna sock ya one."
Every night's like the first night, never getting old.
For the past month, Spot and Angel had been tiptoeing around each other, flirting wildly but never really giving in. Every few days, Spot would drop in to see Angel, and the two would continue their game of messing with the other's emotions. What neither one was prepared for were the real feelings that began to develop, nor the craving they had for the other's company.
Passed out on the bathroom floor, still drunk from the night before.
When this party ends, we'll wake up and do it again.
Soon enough, the King of Brooklyn's birthday rolled around, and the Manhattan newsies were invited for a mass blowout, where copious amounts of alcohol were promised.
"Happy birthday, Conlon," Angel said with a wink, grabbing a bottle of beer off the counter. Spot grinned at her from his seat and patted the one next to him. Angel obliged and sat, their legs just barely touching.
"What'd ya get me?" Spot asked. Angel thought for a moment, remembering that she had spent her money that day on her rent and some new shoes for Snipeshooter. With a smirk, Angel leaned over and kissed Spot full on the mouth and pulled back.
"Just dat," Angel said, a bit dazed now. Spot's eyes were on her lips, and before either one could stop themselves, they were kissing again.
When they finally had to pull away for oxygen, Angel took another swig of her beer. She needed something to numb the fact that she was getting in too deep, too quickly.
The next thing Angel remembered was waking up face down in a foreign washroom, her cheek pressed to the cool ground. She pushed herself up and looked around, only to see a smirking Spot Conlon leaning against the doorway, arms folded. Before Angel could say anything, the contents of her stomach were being emptied into the toilet.
As she vomited, Angel felt rough, warm hands pull her curls off of her sweaty neck before rubbing her back. Once she had finished, warm breath tickled her ear.
"Guess ya can't handle ya alcohol well, doll," Spot whispered. Angel groaned and weakly pushed him off, holding her head while it began to throb.
"If I wasn't ready ta curl up an' die, I would so kill ya," Angel muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. Kneeling next to her, Spot moved her hands and began to massage her temples lightly.
"Well, jus' remember dat there's a party at Medda's tonight," Spot reminded with a smirk. Angel groaned again. It seemed as if she'd have two hangovers in a row.
Knock me out. Hit me with your punch drunk love.
Got me figured out, girl, it's not enough.
Spot rubbed his aching jaw, watching Angel storm away from him. The shopkeeper he had just been talking to, a young girl around his age, began to blush at what she had just witnessed.
"Uh, Sir?" she asked. Spot turned, looking annoyed, and raised a questioning eyebrow. The girl held out the flowers. "I'm really sorry, I didn't realize that you had a girlfriend."
"If I get my way, I'se still gonna have one," Spot muttered, slapping his money onto the counter, grabbing the flowers, and breaking into a run. Angel was incredibly fast, but Spot was faster. He grabbed her around the waist and spun her around to face him. Before she could protest, Spot crashed his lips against her, tasting the salty tears. Angel pushed him back.
"Ya was flirtin' with her, Conlon!" Angel yelled, rage evident on her face. "An' then ya kissed her! I know what ya like. I know ya better than yaself!"
"Dat's true," Spot said to all of it. He grabbed the flowers from behind his back, white roses, if you must know, and extended them towards Angel. "But ya didn't realize dat I was doin' it so I wouldn't go broke buyin' ya these dang flowers."
"Ya really bought these? For me?" Angel asked, suddenly distracted. She took the fragrant blossoms into
her arms. Spot nodded, somewhat solemn. Angel looked at the flowers, then scrutinized him, looking for a sign that he was lying. Spot was about to get down on his knees and grovel when Angel flung herself into his arms and kissed him hard.
Knock me out, hit me 'til you just can't stop.
It's what you're all about, girl.
Just hit me with your punch drunk love.
"Is this really necessary?" Angel asked, looking at Spot with a raised eyebrow. The King of Brooklyn nodded and braced himself.
"Ya gotta learn how ta fight, doll," Spot said, using the pet name just to tick her off; it worked. Angel pounced upon him and her fists went flying, hitting anything and everything she could. Within a few minutes, Angel realized she was beating up her boyfriend.
Leaning back on her knees, Angel watched a couple bruises begin to form and a trickle of blood make
its way down Spot's chin from the barely cracked lip. Angel leaned down and kissed him gently.
"I's sorry," she murmured, brushing his bruised cheek lightly. Spot winced but still managed to smirk up at her.
"You's can punch me anytime," he said, kissing Angel once more.
I like a girl that can take control, funny, cute and kissable.
"Alright, everybody out of da water," Angel bellowed at the Brooklyn boys, standing on the docks with her hands on her hips. Spot smirked as he watched his girl organize the Brooklyn newsies and get them ready to go sell the evening edition, yelling at any and all who defied her.
"Conlon!" Angel yelled, causing Spot to lazily meet her eyes as she approached him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, "accidentally" pulling too hard and sending him straight into the water.
Spot gasped as the cold water went over his head, chilling him to the bone. Spluttering, he came back up and glared at Angel as he treaded water. She leaned down, lying on the dock so only her head was above him, and kissed him.
"Ya looked too happy," Angel explained, patting Spot on the head and walking off.
I had it figured out, now my room is spinning 'round.
Angel was getting nervous. It had been almost nine months since she and Spot had met, and they were serious. She didn't like this, not one bit. Walking on her way to the Brooklyn lodging house, Angel began to
think of the best way to end this, once and for all.
By the time she had crossed the bridge, Angel's plan was complete. She was going to calmly explain that she didn't feel like this was going anywhere, and that she wasn't ready to be this committed to anyone or
anything. She was going to pat him on the arm and then leave him to deal with his pain. Yes, that was good.
"Angel!" She turned to see Spot running towards her, a grin on his face. It darn near broke her heart to know what she was going to do, so she had to do it fast. Angel opened her mouth to begin the whole ordeal, but was cut off by a breath-taking kiss from Spot. When he pulled away, Angel's head began to spin, and her knees felt weak. "How ya doin'?"
"Perfect," Angel said, reassessing the situation. Maybe things could go on for a while longer. "Just perfect."
I'm not looking to settle down. Just wanna mess around.
Spot watched as she walked away, taking a huge piece of his heart with her. He never wanted to hear those words again. "Let's just be friends." He felt in his pocket for the cheap gold ring he'd bought just a week earlier, determined to become a married man. Too bad for him, Angel was afraid of commitment. She didn't even stay long enough for him to ask.
Walks like she knows what she's doing to me.
I said, "All my friends think I'm going crazy!"
Spot glared over his mug of coffee at Angel, who had just floated in to Tibby's with Racetrack, laughing and grinning. The Italian kissed her cheekily, and she giggled. Spot could have killed someone. Angel's eyes met his for a second before kissing Racetrack again, longer this time.
"She knows," Spot grumbled to Jack, who was busy reading an article about Santa Fe that he had found in a dumpster somewhere. Jack looked up at Angel and gave Spot a sympathetic look.
"She ain't worth it," Jack said, sticking his nose back into his article. "She ain't even really wit' Race. She's jus' tryin' ta make some guy jealous, though she won't tell who."
Spot perked up at this and glanced back at Angel, only to find her eyes on him again. She quickly looked away, but Spot continued staring. It had been about a month since she had dumped him, and he still loved
her as much as ever.
"I'se gonna go ask her ta take me back," Spot said suddenly, standing up to follow Angel as she left the restaurant. Jack looked up at him like he had two heads (he was, after all, from Brooklyn).
"Are ya crazy?" Jack yelled as Spot broke into a run. He burst through the door and spun Angel around, kissing her hard and passionately. She obliged, not really kissing him back, waiting until he pulled away. Spot did so and smiled, thrilled when Angel smiled back.
Knock me out. Hit me with your punch drunk love.
It was after that that he felt the collision of her fist with his face, and he blacked out.
Got me figured out, girl, it's not enough.
When Spot regained consciousness, he swore he was in heaven. Light fell on him, and standing over him was surely something heaven sent. He could've sworn he saw a halo on a face that looked exactly like an
angel's. Wait...
"Angel?" he asked, reaching a hand up to her face. Angel nodded, leaning into his hand and kissing his palm. Spot grinned and brought his hand back down. "I knew ya wouldn't really be datin' Race."
"But ya didn't know I wanted ya ta follow me when I left," Angel said, pressing a kiss to Spot's forehead.
When the weekend ends, we'll do this again.
"Ya know we'll prolly be fightin' within a week, right?" Angel asked, stroking Spot's hair. He mumbled lightly, barely awake. Angel simply sighed.
Keep putting dirty thoughts in my head.
"Why can't ya jus' sell wit' Racetrack?" Spot complained to a pouting Angel. She sighed as if it were obvious.
"Da Delancey's is in 'Hattan," Angel explained calmly. "An' I want you."
"I know," Spot smirked, causing Angel to blush furiously. She smacked him upside the head and began to walk away before turning around.
"Thought it's true," Angel said, throwing him a wink. Spot laughed and watched her go, perfectly happy.
Funny, cute and kissable.
I've found a girl that makes me lose control.
Every night's like the first night, never getting old.
The strike had ended, and Spot was growing restless. Angel was selling again, now, and she often took longer than Spot to finish her sales. That left him with a lot of free time.
Then he met Diva. She was just like Angel had been in the very beginning, just far less intelligent and more ready to throw herself at someone who was already in a relationship. This would explain how Angel walked in on her beau in a compromising position with a girl who wasn't her.
Knock me out, hit me with your punch drunk love.
Got me figured out, girl, it's not enough.
Knock me out. Hit me 'til you just can't stop.
It's what you're all about, girl.
Just hit me with your punch drunk love.
Needless to say, when Angel left the Brooklyn lodging house for good, there was a boy who was probably now sterile and a girl who would have multiple scars in years to come.
OoOoO
As I've said: not my best work. Keep in mind that I was thirteen when I wrote this, and still read books like *shudder* Twilight. Thanks for reading, though!