Work Text:
Hotshot was sitting on the bottom bunk of a bed, in a corner of the Manhattan newsie's lodge. He was watching a game of poker, that was noticeably missing Race.
That was because Race was with Spot, which is why Hotshot was there.
Spot had dragged Hotshot across the Brooklyn Bridge earlier that day. As Spot's second, he had to present at every newsies borough meeting, and there had been a meeting. However, Hotshot knew that Spot would want to stay longer. He knew his best friend, and he knew that he had a growing affection for The Cowboy's second in command.
Almost as soon as the meeting ended, Hotshot had been dumped in the lodge, as Spot and Race traipsed upstairs to do who knows what.
A cheer erupted from the poker game, accompanied by a couple of groans. A kid that Hotshot didn't recognise had won, and was collecting his winnings. He looked up, grinning, and locked eyes with Hotshot for a second, before turning away.
He was pretty, anyone could see. His eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and when he flashed that grin, it was as if the whole world melted away.
He was knocked out of his thoughts when said boy walked up to him
"caught you staring," he said with a shinning smile.
"I- uh-"
The boy cut him off with a laugh, and god was it a beautiful sound. It wasn't demeaning, it was just... him. And it was perfect.
"It's fine, I love an audience. I'm Ike by the way."
"Hotshot," he replied, heat rising in his cheeks. He must've been blushing like mad.
There was something different, enchanting, about Ike. It drew him in and wouldn't let him go, he didn't want to go. He had dark eyes and hair that reminded Hotshot of the night sky, glistening with stars. He wanted to run his hands through it, holding tight to that beautiful boy.
Was this how Spot felt about Race?
Probably not. He had seen those two together and knew their love ran deeper than whatever this feeling towards Ike was. Still, he was drawn in, and selfishly hoped that maybe, just maybe, Ike felt similarly, and that somehow, it could become love. So he stuck to Ike.
They stayed together for the rest of the night, sitting in their corner, exchanging stories and jokes, laughing into the night. Then, suddenly, it was time to go. And, like on the way there, Spot had to drag Hotshot across the Brooklyn Bridge, this time with the ghost of a kiss burning on his cheek.