Chapter Text
Racetrack sat and watched Spot carry on more of a conversation than he just about had ever heard from the guy.
“…and then I said to her that she’s a real sweet girl and all but I’m just here to sell papes..” He didn’t seem at all thrown off by the fact that his audience was a pack of mutts who just seemed to be entertained by him speaking.
“Hey Hotshot.” Race leaned over to whisper to the Brooklyn newsie who was watching this. “He knows they ain’t gonna talk back right?”
“….Probably.” Hotshot then shrugged. “Not that it matters.”
“Probably?” Racetrack raised an eyebrow.
Hotshot didn’t seem at all phased. “Spot’s just as weird as the rest of us, ya know? If not a bit weirder considerin’.”
Race lowered his voice to a whisper, just in case it was something they weren’t supposed to be talking about. “Considerin’ what?”
“Watch this.” He then yelled out. “Hey Spot, you gonna introduce Manhattan to the family or what?”
Racetrack had assumed Spot would round on Hotshot with a barb of his own but he actually looked a touch…embarrassed? No, more like apologetic.
“Sorry. Got a little wrapped up in catchin’ up.” As he stood the dogs all circled around him with excitement when they noticed he was talking to another human.
“This is Mittens, she’s got her mittens.” A gray dog with white feet wagged her tail at her name. Her hair was wiry and she seemed perpetually thrilled with the world around her. Her ears stuck up and swiveled around trying to pick up every little sound.
“That’s Teague and Dash. They’re brothers and terrible thieves, they can’t help it. Teague likes coats and Dash prefers food.” He laughs when Dash’s ears perk up at the word food. “I ain’t got any.” The two dogs were tan and tall with partially folded ears, identical except for the white muzzle on Dash.
“Clover, met her when she was rolling around in some.” He picked up a small mutt with a blue eye and a brown eye who immediately tried licking his face. “She’s a fan of kissing.” Her dark fur was longer on her ears and tail, giving her the appearance of some sort of spaniel mix.
“This is Pup.” He used his foot to point out a little tuxedo cat who promptly tried to bite his shoelaces. “She’s adopted. Don’t tell her, it’ll break her heart.
A giant grey mutt that looked like it was closer to a wolf than a dog leaned against Spot. “And this is Momma. She looks after everyone. Mittens is her puppy, dogcatchers picked up the rest of her family so she’s a little protective.” She stared with an intensity that would make most anyone uncomfortable.
Hotshot put his hand on his heart in fake insult. “Just one puppy? The woman does her best to raise you and you don’t even include yourself.”
Racetrack assumed Spot would at least hit him in the shoulder but instead Spot looked a bit chastised.
“She knows she’s done a good job.” He sat Clover down and scratched Momma behind the ears. “I was talkin’ biologically…”
Wait what?
“You ever told Race how you got your name? Cause I’m absolutely gonna.” Hotshot grinned.
“Fuck off.” Spot huffed.
“Yes sir!” He faked a salute. “After I tell Racetrack how you’re feral.”
“Feral?” Racetrack asked.
Hotshot immediately launched into his story. “So I was like, 9 or 10 or whatever and was sellin’ on my own for the first time. There was this alley I was scared shitless of cause there was this rumor that some circus escapee or werewolf lived down it. I got dared to go check it out and saw this shadow surrounded by dogs and it growled at me. I took off like my ass was on fire.”
He laughed before continuing. “So naturally I tell Ace, he ran things back then, and Ace decided he was gonna go check it out. Now I realize why, it was gearin’ up to snow, but I thought he was nuts at the time.”
Spot looked away at the mention of their previous leader. Race had noticed that Ace was a bit of a sore spot.
“I followed him down tryin to stop him but he marched right up to this pile of sleeping dogs and says “Are you okay?” then a course he got growled at and Ace just goes “I’ve seen you around and heard you talk before, you don’t have to fake it.” And proceeded to ask about everyone’s name.”
“And you decided to be an ass.” Spot glared.
“Yeah but was I wrong?” Hotshot grabbed Pup when she got close enough. The cat flopped over in his arms and began to purr loudly enough that Racetrack could hear it.
“The first thing out of his mouth was ‘So what are you? Rover? Spot?’ and apparently I didn’t hit him hard enough.” Spot stared at the cat like she was a traitor.
He snorted in laughter. “You were into it in a week.”
“It beat any of the others.” Spot admitted.
“I still don’t know what kinda deal he struck but he was already livin in Ace’s room with all these damn dogs.” When Pup meowed at him he tapped her nose before setting her down.
“If they were left outside they woulda froze!” Spot sounded like he’d tried to explain this a million times.
“I bet Ace just didn’t want any of us gettin’ fleas.” Hotshot whispered to the side.
“You-!” He pulled Hotshot down by the collar. As he did Mittens barked in excitement, seems like she thought this was play. “None of them got fleas and you know it!”
Hotshot burst into laughter, Racetrack honestly hadn’t seen anyone laugh in the face of being threatened by Spot Conlon. “Sure boss.”
A smug grin slowly crept onto Spot’s face. “Especially since I use your whiskey in their baths to kill anything.”
“You bastard!” Hotshot ripped his hat off and holds it out of Spot’s reach. “I actually paid for some of that and you’re usin’ it as a flea dip?”
Spot stared at the hat but wasn’t about to jump for it. “Ain’t always got enough money for baking soda and you just use the stuff as an excuse to cause a problem.”
“You literal, abject, awful son of a bitch!” He tossed Spot’s hat behind them and took off. Before it even hit the ground Clover chased it down and snatched it.
“Where are you going?” Spot folded his arms.
“To hide my shit better!” Hotshot quickly rounded a corner as he tore off back towards the Brooklyn lodging house.
Once he’s out of earshot Spot laughs. “Dash’ll just find it again, I give it two days. Tops.”
“So uh, I know it ain’t my business.” Racetrack waited to be blown off but instead Spot just sighed.
“It was better than bein at home.” He held his hand out for Clover to hand him his hat back. “I could scare off other kids by pretendin’ to be nuts, sometimes adults felt sorry enough for me that they gave me somethin’ to eat, and I didn’t freeze at night.”
“…Sorry.” Racetrack never exactly knew what to say to others letting on that their home lives weren’t the greatest. He barely even remembered his. Just little things stuck out. His mother having soft blonde hair like him, her singing in Italian, and his dad switching between Irish and English were all distant memories that sometimes kept him up at night.
“Not your fault.” He shrugged. “Made me tough enough to be able to run things. Plus without me the dogs probably woulda been picked up and killed by now.”
“I ain’t really ever had a home. Not one that I remember at least. Always been at the lodging house.” He explained.
“That’s a home.” He grinned as Clover hopped up to try and grab his hat. “Just a loud one you gotta pay to be apart of.”
“Yeah.” Racetrack watched him do his best to defend his hat only to have Mittens grab it when he leaned back. “Ya really do see em as family, don’t you?”
“That a problem?” He almost seemed nervous.
“No no!” He quickly backtracked. “I mean if I consider the guys in Manhattan family actual dogs is a step up.”
Spot did his best not to smile; apparently it was fine to smile for the dogs but not other people. “Maybe Hotshot ain’t as dumb as he looks. He insisted that you’d get it.”
“He’ll be thrilled to hear.” Race laughed.
“And let it go to his head? Absolutely not.” Spot grinned anyway.
“Aw, I’m sure he’d call ya a good boy if you told him.” He winked.
“I can and will beat you to death.” Red crept onto Spot’s face.
“Local Newsboy Mauled to Death in Brooklyn!” Racetrack held up an imaginary newspaper. “Witness statement: That’s what you get for going to Brooklyn!”
“Why haven’t I tossed you into the bay yet?” He leaned down to pet Dash.
“You’d miss me eventually.” He winked and blew a kiss.
Spot just stared for a moment. “Unfortunately.”
It wasn’t quite an ‘I love you, I wanna be with you.’ but it would do. Racetrack took a chance on it and leaned in closer, letting his eyes fall shut as he did.
The snickering almost made him lean back in time before a tongue started licking at his face. He sputtered and pulled away to see Spot holding Clover up to his face. He wanted to be disgusted but Spot was grinning at him, Spot’s smile could light up the whole damn world. It could punch right through the smog and make the city beautiful.
“Gettin’ a little ahead of yourself?” He teased as Clover struggled to try and lick Racetrack again.
“Implies I can get there.” Race pointed out.
“Never said you couldn’t.” Spot’s cheeks were faintly red as he looked away. “Just said you’re gettin’ ahead of yourself. My guys are good with…this sort of thing, but cops still exist. So do spies.”
“Spies?” He laughed.
“What you don’t deal with newsies from other boroughs pokin’ around where they don’t belong to pick up information? You think I don’t know Kelly thinks a you as one of his?”
“I ain’t a spy!” Racetrack suddenly found himself second-guessing all the times Jack had asked him how Brooklyn had been that day. Why would he care to listen to Race go on about something on the other side of the city? Was he a spy? Did you have to know you were a spy to be one?
“You are. ‘s alright though, there ain’t nothin’ you can tell him that he don’t already know. Besides, if I really minded you think I wouldn’t of broken your legs by now?” He huffed. “Cute spies still get sent home in bits.”
Racetrack paused. “I’m cute?”
Spot quickly pulled Clover up to hide his face and mumbled into her fur. “I’m going to kick your ass.”