Disclamer: I DO NOT OWN NEWSIES

Chapter 1

Trousers' POV

I pulled on my pants, socks and boots, buttoned up my shirt, and fastened on my suspenders. After I put on my cap and fixed my hair around it, I slid down the banister and ran out the front door into Spots waiting arms. Oh, boy, those arms. They were strong, rough and protecting all at once. Just like the man they belonged to.

"Heya Spot!" I grinned. He chuckled.

"Hey Trousahs," He said gently. "How ahe ya dis mornin'?"

"Just chippah!" I shouted as I grabbed his hand and started running towards Brooklyn's paper distributing center. "Wese gotta get dere first so dats wese can find da best sellin' spot afore dey're all taken!"

"Trousahs! Hold it Trous! Hold on a minute wouldja? It ain't dat big of a deal! I mean it is, but wese both been doin' dis fah yeahs, so no one's gonna take our spot." I just laughed and kept on running. I did this almost every morning, and Spot still hadn't caught on. I just liked spending time with him alone, before the distribution center opens, the streets become busy and the boys start bugging me with their testosterone filled antics. He's a knuckle head and just not one of the snappiest headlines in the pape. I slowed down as we neared my favorite bench; the one with the engraving on it that was dedicated to some couple a long time ago. You can barely even read the markings anymore it's been here for so long. I plopped down on the empty bench and Spot soon followed suit. I sighed in contentment and leaned my head on his shoulder, thinking about things and just enjoying his company.

Somebody was calling my name. I shook my head snapping out of my trance, in the process smacking my head on the back of the bench.

"Huh, what's a mattah?" I asked hurriedly, holding the back of my head.

"It's time tah gets da papes foah da morning'." Spot said, smirking to himself as he kissed the place which I had just injured. I groaned inwardly. Another day of selling papes and for what; so we could just struggle to meet every need for all the newsies in Brooklyn Heights? Still, I couldn't complain. At least I had a roof over my head, food in my belly—however little—and meager amounts of money coming in.

"Alright," I said, grinning and bearing it like I did every day. "Let's go." Spot deftly swept my hand up in his as we skipped the short distance to get the papes.

"Extry, extry! Fiah boins down pahta 'Hattan!" We shouted all over the streets, hoping people would be interested enough to buy our papes considering nothing good was happening right now. As soon as the last of the papes were sold, we headed back to Poplar Street and gathered in the living room type area to just hang out before it was time to go to Irving Hall and see Medda again. I tuned back into the conversation, just in time for Sprite to finish his epic conclusion.

"An' dat was when I saw 'er; da most beautiful goil in all a Brooklyn—nah, in all a New Yawk!"

"Who was it? Aw, ya gotta tell us Sprite! It ain't fair if ya don't!" A chorus of newsies beseeched the captivating story teller.

"Hold ya horses! I was gettin' dere!"

"What ahe we talkin' 'bout?" I chimed in. Everyone groaned.

"Not again, Trous! Youse is always doin' dis! When ahe ya just gonna leahn youse gotta listen to heah da whole story?" piped in eight year old Bouncer.

"Ise sorry!" I said, "Youse all should know how I is by now! Can't tune in fah a full convahsation!"

Spot strolled in from the tiny kitchen we had, carrying a glass of cold water from the hand-pump. "Oh, wese know by now." He said nonchalantly sitting next to me and propping his feet up on my legs. "An' dis is why I shouldn'ta named ya Trousahs. Maybe Ise should a named ya somet'in' else like… Snoozah or Miss 'Easily Distracted'!" I shoved his legs off me and because of the unbalanced nature he was sitting, he fell right off the couch. "Hey! Youse is gonna pay fah dat!" He yelled scowling at me. "I might just totally change youah name tah somethin' like Tempah!"

"I actually like dat name, so's if youse wanna change it tah dat, den be my guest!" I yelled at him jokingly, sounding mad and fooling all the other newsies. Spot shot me a knowing glance, a mischievous glint in his eye and I smirked back at him.

"Why do youse gotta be so dahn stupid an' stubbuhn sometimes Trousahs? I don't get youse at all! Why ahe we even in dis mess?!" My gaze flitted to the watching boy's faces, filled with worry and unease, and I had to run out of the room to hide my laughter at the expressions they were wearing. I booked it up the stairs and into the room that Spot and I used as a personal lounge sometimes. Spot followed me up and the boys ran to the bottom of the stairs trying to stay quiet and not be seen at the same time, which was very hard for them.

"Spot Conlon! Why do youse have tah be so… so… infuriating?" I said, struggling to find a word that would hit him hard normally, but not now since he knew I was joking.

"Because Ise spends too much time around youse! Maybe Ise just needs tah stop bein' at youah side ev'ry minute a ev'ry single day!" We heard a collective gasp sound from downstairs, and fell into each other's arms in silent bouts of laughter.

"Dese boys are so gullible!" I whispered. He just nodded in agreement. I smacked his arm to make it sound like I had slapped his face. "Well then maybe Ise should just go tah 'Hattan! Dey'll at least appreciate me dere!" I said, sounding angry once more. We heard a thunderous roar and then a mess of boys collapsing into each other at the doorway. They weren't allowed to enter this room, but were surprised at the scene they found—Spot and Trousers, kissing, in the middle of the room.

"But—Ise thought—Huh?" shouted Slingshot in confusion. I kept hold of Spots collar, as I'd used it to pull myself to him, and smirked.

"Gotcha!" I said as I strutted passed them all and looked back to see Spots shocked face.

"What? Ain't it time tah get ready fah Medda's yet?" I asked innocently and went to go change into the most presentable dress I owned.

Spots POV

Whoa. She still managed to surprise me and make life interesting with the crazy little adventures she dragged me into. Well, bettah go clean up and get ready fah Medda's like Trousahs said, I thought. I went into the washroom for the boys, and scrubbed my face, hair, hands and arms of the filth of the day, then proceeded to the trunk at the foot of my bed, grabbed the cleanest pair of black corduroy pants I had (for special occasions only), my nicest plaid shirt, and my least beat up hat. On second thought, scratch the hat. I switched my clothes out for the ones I had just laid on the bed and snapped my red suspenders back into place, along with my famous cane and slingshot. I glanced in the mirror. Final decision; I was going with the hat since I hated my appearance without it. Now, I was ready to go.

"Trousahs… Oh, Trous," I said, knocking softly on the door of the washroom she was using. "It's time tah go ta Irvin' Hall now! Ready? All a da boys ahe waitin' downstaihs fah us."

"Yeah, I'll, uh, just be right down. Almost ready." She replied. I turned on my heel and strode downstairs to find all me boys lined up and waiting to be inspected.

"She'll be down in a minute, boys. I bet she looks great." At this comment, I got an eye roll from the group. I turned to sit down on the bottom stair. A few minutes later, I heard tiny footsteps at the landing. I whirled around and looked at the beauty in front of me. "Whoa." I said. She was far too pretty for her own good. But she was all mine. On her feet were dainty white shoes, God knows how she kept those clean. She was clad in a mint green dress that showed off her figure perfectly and didn't show too much at the top. Her red hair was pulled over to one side and fastened there, cascading down one shoulder in excellently placed ringlets. I smiled up at her. "Youse look amazin'!" I said as she blushed the nicest shade of pink. Her eyes were beautiful. Her lashes were darkened, and she had some sort of shading on her eyelids, accentuating her lovely green eyes.

"Youse say dat ev'ry time we go tah Medda's."

I offered her my arm. "Shall wese?"

"Wese shall!" She exclaimed timidly, which was reasonable considering literally all eyes were on her.

"Lead da way boys!" I said proudly. Trous chuckled. "What? Ise can't be proud of me poifect goil?"

"No, ya can, but it ain't dat." She said sounding more like the Trousers I knew. "It's just… you an' dose red suspendahs! Youse ahe always weahin' dem!" She slipped her finger under one and snapped it against my chest, then bolted away from me. "Whoa, whoa, slow down Trous! Whats da hurry?" I caught up to her easily, wrapped her in my arms and pinned her to me.

"Wheah ya goin'? Youse ain't gettin' away wid dat! Ya think ya can just run away from me like dat? Huh? Huh?" I dropped my hands to her ribs and tickled her relentlessly. She wriggled and shrieked in my arms.

"Ah! Sp—Spot! I c-can't breathe! Pl—ease! Just lemme go!" She continued her shrieking until I finally released her from my grasp.

We continued walking all the way to Manhattan, and the streets were wet from the rainstorm we'd had when Sprite was telling us is story. He never did finish that one. Another one about "da prettiest goil in awl a New Yawk!" He's always got a story about "da prettiest goil in awl a New Yawk!" and it was always a different girl. We all knew how this was going to end, except for Trousers, because her head was always up in the clouds when Sprite told his stories.

"Hold still Trous! Youse is gonna get youse dress awl doity if Ise don't carry youse!" I said as she was twisting around attempting to loosen herself from my arms once again. I had picked her up bridal stlye some time ago, to prevent the hem of her dress from getting tattered and muddy. It was likely to happen with the cobblestones and the muck that persistently coated them.

"But Ise don't wanna be carried. I wanna be put down! Ise can walk on me own. Put me down!" She wouldn't calm down, so I ended up slinging her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Hey! Michael 'Spot' Conlon! Ise serious! Youse… youse put me down dis instance or… or…" she said, fumbling for a legitimate threat. New clothes, same ole Trousers. That wasn't a surprise. I don't think anyone will ever see this girl change.

"Or what? Youse won't talk tah me fah a week? Youse won't last a day. Youse won't make da beds? Wese can go widdout da beds being made."

"Or Ise won't kiss ya fah two whole weeks!" I tensed a little.

"Youse still couldn't last." If it was one thing she was known for, it was her temper. That and the fact that she always made bets or bargains she couldn't- or didn't have the willpower- to keep.

"What is it wid you thinkin' Ise won't last wid anythin'?"

"'Cause I know youse, Trous."

"Youse wanna bet how long Ise can or can't last? Fine. How much? We'll shake on it." I put her down as we arrived. As I presumed we weren't late. No one started nothin' without Spot Conlon. A new voice entered the conversation.

"Bet on what?"

"How long she can go widdout smoochin' me!" I said without thinking about who I was talking to. Race turned on his heel and sprinted back into the Hall.

"Hey ev'ry one! Spot an' Trousahs are makin' a bet on how long Trous can go widdout canoodlin' wid Spot! Who wants tah bet on it?" He asked everyone within hearing distance.

"Race," she screamed from behind me. "Youse bettah get youse butt back heah right now! Racetrack!" She screeched again and scampered off after him. I rolled my eyes and smiled, continuing to Jack's table.

"Heya Jacky-boy. Wha's da haps?" I asked, my eyes following Trousers and Race around the floor.

"Well, as youse all prolly knows from da papes, pahta 'Hattan boined down. Luckily it wasn't nuttin' close tah us, or even important."

"Yeah, yeah, wese all knows about dat. 'Course we was hawkin' it at da tops a ouah lungs earlier. Don't think a one a us could've fahgotten." We both chuckled at that and burst into laughter as we watched Trousers pin Race to the ground and tell him to announce to everybody the bet was off. You could hear her squawking all the way over here, even across the large distance between our table and them. Race looked terrified. A lot of the newsies looked over at the scene she was creating, and were holding their sides from laughing so hard. Trousers joined us with a smug look on her face. Race walked over here a few minutes later, disgraced because he'd been beat by a girl.

"Heya Trous!" Kid Blink yelled from his spot hanging from the banister of the balcony. I rolled my eyes. Blink was always trying to impress one girl or another; just not mine. Everybody had learned not to try to impress my girl. He was just saying "hi" to her, and then his gaze shifted to another less than pretty girl over on the other side of the stage. "Heya Connie!" He yelled this time at Connie of Coney Island. Coincidental? I don't know. She glanced over at Blink and rolled her eyes.

"Get down from dere Blink!" she hollered at him. "Ya gonna hoit youse-self real bad if ya end up fallin'!"

"Hey! Spot! Jack! She knows me name!" He scrambled down from the banister quickly and ran over to us, laughing hysterically the whole way. "She knows me name! She knows me-!" He shouted all over the theatre at any newsie who would listen. After the lights dimmed down and the show was about to begin, Blink climbed back up to his place hanging off the balcony and flashed googly eyes at Connie, who kept glancing sheepishly up at him and looking back at the stage real quickly when he caught her looking.

Trousers' POV

"Bet on what?" Someone asked from behind me.

"How long she can go widdout smoochin' me!" Spot said carelessly. Racetrack turned on his heel and sprinted back into the Hall. I gave Spot my death glare.

"Hey ev'ry one! Spot an' Trousahs are makin' a bet on how long Trous can go widdout canoodlin' wid Spot! Who wants tah bet on it?" He asked everyone within hearing distance.

"Race," I screamed. "Youse bettah get ya butt back heah right now! Racetrack!" I shot off after him. I caught up to him fairly quickly even in a cumbersome dress and stiff shoes. In Brooklyn, you had to be a considerably fast runner, because the danger there was worse than it is in Manhattan. You learned to run quickly no matter what you were wearing. I'd gladly take the Delancey Brothers any day than face some of the trouble in Brooklyn. "Anthony Racetrack Higgins. Youse go tell every single poison the bet nevah happened!" I said pinning him to the ground and sitting on top of him in a most unlady-like fashion. If I was in my regular clothes it would be different but… "Dat bet nevah even technically happened considering Spot and Ise nevah shook on it!" I continued yelling at him in too loud a voice until he gave up.

"Alright, alright, Ise surrendah! Youse win. Ise gonna go tell ev'ry single poison in heah dat dis bet nevah happened! And Ise promise dat I won't tells no one 'bout any bets youse and Spot make 'till youse tell me dey're official!" Ha! I walked over to Spot and Jack haughtily. Race walked over a few minutes later.

"It's a done deal. All bets ahe off. It's like it nevah even happened." He mumbled glumly.

"Thank youse. Now Ise hope ya loined a lesson heah, Race." I said rather smugly.

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbled quietly. I smiled victoriously.

"Heya Trous!" Kid Blink yelled from his spot hanging from the banister of the balcony. I laughed and rolled my eyes at his escapade.

"Hey Blink! What's up?" I shouted, giving him a little wave. I noticed his eyes kept flicking to a plain looking girl on the other side of the theater and smiled to myself. It was Connie from Coney Island—a longtime friend of mine.

"Get down from dere Blink!" she hollered at him. "Ya gonna hoit youse-self real bad if ya end up fallin'!"

"Hey! Spot! Jack! She knows me name!" He scrambled down from the banister quickly and ran over to us, laughing hysterically the whole way. "She knows me name! She knows me-!" He shouted all over the theatre at any newsie who would listen. After the lights dimmed down and the show was about to begin, Blink climbed back up to his place hanging off the balcony and began flashing googly eyes at Connie, who kept glancing sheepishly up at him and looking back at the stage real quickly when he caught her looking. I leaned over to Spot and Jack and whispered: "Finally! Blink's got his self a soon tah be goil."

"Youse got dat right! She's all he evah talks about anymoah!" Jack replied.

"Yeah now if only wese could find somebody fah Skits." Spot commented.

"No kiddin'. Den maybe he'd come outta his "Mistah Bad Mood Attitude" take on life all da time!" We all laughed silently. Medda came onstage and started singing. I almost fell asleep on Spots shoulder until it was time to start dancing and some upbeat, fast tempo music started playing.

"Hey. Hey Trous, wake up. Time tah dance!" Spot shouted in my ear. He laughed like a little girl as he spun and swung me across the room, in between all the other couples who were dancing. I danced with Jack a couple of times, as well as Skittery, Mush and Race. Dancing with Skittery was… amusing to say the least. He was complaining about everything, and I mean everything. How white my shoes were, how red my hair was, how the spinning was making him dizzy, how nice I looked in my dress… Wait, did Skittery just say that? I mean, the Skittery, who is always in a bad mood? That's rare for him. Mush was happy per usual and going a hundred miles an hour about things I wasn't even focused on.

"Heya Race! Still mad youse lost dat bet?"

"What bet? I don't recall no bets evah happenin'." He told me, still sounding slightly angry.

"Atta boy Race! Thank youse!" I shouted as he spun me off to some other dancing partner. By the end of the night, my feet were so tired that I had to be carried all the way back to Brooklyn—my idea this time—by different newsboys, including Bouncer, at which I was surprised he could support me. Spot was the last one carrying me, and he climbed the steps and set me on the couch in our lounge. I woke up a little at the sudden lack of movement, my arms still locked around Spot's neck. "Spot?" I asked very quietly.

"Yeah doll face?" His accent still made me get butterflies in my stomach even after all these years.

"Why'd ya let Bouncah carry me?"

He chuckled lightly. "Only youse Trous. Only youse. G'night doll face." He said, gently planting a kiss on my forehead and exiting.

That night, I dreamt of meeting the one and only Spot Conlon for the first time.