#Or Kath being like one inch shorter

[races-stupid-cigar]

Jathrine

she would not fucking be shorter than him

[the-gay-trashmouth]

Can’t you see i’m a little busy right now? (A-Z Prompt #3)

Rating: Teen

warnings: Period-typical homophobia, internalized homophobia

Era: Canon

Ship(s): Sprace, background Javid

Note: I would have had this done a lot sooner but my file corrupted the first time and i lost everything. But here it is and i hope you enjoy it even though it’s late!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Race loved to tangle his hands in Spot's messy brown hair. Whether they were kissing, cuddling, or just playing cards he always had his hands in his tangled mess of hair.

He did just that as Spot pressed his back against the wall of his private room in the Brooklyn lodging house. There were defiantly perks of being the so-called King, and the privacy was the one Race enjoyed the most. There's only so many times you can make-out in some dirty old alleyway without being caught.

Spot gripped his hips with a strange combination of aggressiveness and softness that Race absolutely adored. Race grinned into the Brooklyn leader's lips and pulled back, pure mischief in his eyes "ya' miss me or somethin'?"

Spot jerked him closer and muttered a "Shaddup will ya" before capturing his lips again. He happily complied, wrapping his arms around his neck almost and kissing him without another comment. This was a better way to spend his time anyways.

Spot bit his lower lip gently and he gasped just as the door opened.

"Hey, Conlon, Copper's been lookin' for ya'" Spot's second in command Spades froze in the doorway, only looking mildly surprised to see Spot pining the taller boy against a wall and Race's arms still around his neck.

"Can't ya see I's in the middle a' somethin' at the moment?" Spot pulled back just far enough that he could turn to look at her, hands still on race's hip and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever ya queer, just find 'im when you's done" she waved dismissively, shutting the door on her way out.

"Oh, to hell wit' ya'!" he called out after her before turning back to Race, who hadn't moved an inch during that whole interaction, "you's okay Racer?"

He finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and pushed Spot away "How can you's be so calm about this? We's got caught, we's never got caught before!" he whisper hissed, glancing towards the door as if she would burst in at any second with an army of Brooklyn boys ready to soak him for somehow tempting their leader or whatever.

Spot gave him a confused look "Spades ain't gonna rat us out-"

"How d'ya know that?" he dug his nails into his arms and Spot took a concerned step towards him.

"Hey," he reached out to grab Race's hands and pried them off his arms "Trust me, I knows Spades, she ain't gonna rat us out"

It physically hurt Race to jerk his arms away, because Spot was using that soft tone of voice he reserved especially for Race. Just for when they were alone together, blocked away from the rest of the world and it was just them, and it hurt to pull away from that.

But he had too "I- I's sorry Spot, I gotta go" he clambered out the window and bolted down the fire-escape.

The only thing going through his mind as he made his way across the bridge was the muted crack he heard from the window as he left spot behind.

~~~~~

"A'ight, what's up wit you?"

Race turned lazily to look at Jack who was leaning on the bedpost of Race and Romeo's shared bunk. It was after selling hours but most of the boys had gone to Jacobi's. Race stayed behind.

"Nothin'" he grumbled, twirling his unlit cigar.

Jack rolled his eyes and shoved Race's feet off the bed to sit in their place "bullshit, you's been mopin' around all week"

Race sighed, falling back on his bunk and putting his lanky legs in Jack's lap obnoxiously. "I ain't mopin', I just can't go back ta Brooklyn no more," he said as nonchalantly as he could.

"What? Spot kick ya out or somethin'" Jack raised an eyebrow at him.

"Or somethin'..." he trailed off, lolling his head to the side and sighing.

Jack rolled his eyes again "so you's just gonna lay there an' mope cause Spot didn't kick ya' out?"

"Me an' Spotty just ain't pals no more, can't sell on his turf"'

"So you's can't sell on his turf afta he didn't kick ya out and ya haven't seen him all week, even though you's been sellin' there for years even before you twos met?" Jack sounded unconvinced "Race you's a walking contradiction"

"Oo, big word Jack, Kath teach ya' that?" Race sat up, pulling his gangly legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

He swore he saw Jack go pink before scratching the back of his neck and saying "Naw, Davey did"

Oh... OH!

Race grinned, leaning in to get in Jack's face, "So you an' Davey, eh? Ya gotta tell me, d' they call him Mouth for a good reason?"

Jack went scarlet and shoved his cackling face away "don't try an' distract me from the issue here! You's still mopin' over Colon an' when I saw 'im today he looked like he ain't had a wink a' sleep"

Race went quiet for a moment. "He looks that bad?" he asked softly.

"He looks like you, Racetrack. You look like shit too" Jack flashed him a cheeky smile before going sober again, "Look, me an' Spot's been pals since before he was king, an' he ain't eva invited me to weekly poker nights, an' he ain't ever let me call 'im Spotty."

Race went uncharacteristically quiet. "Ya really think he'd wanna see me?" He asked, anxiety seeping into his every word.

"Look, I don't know what you's done, but I know he looked pretty torn up, an Spades is pretty pissed you ain't bringin' Romeo along anymore" Jack punched him in the arm playfully and Race finally grinned.

"Swear, she acts like she's his mom or somethin'" he paused for a moment before standing up and grinning confidentially "aight. I's gotta go, got a fella ta see"

Jack grinned. "Ya betta hurry, don't want him ta realize how awful you's is"

He went solemn for a moment "look, Jack, Brooklyn's a dangerous place. If I don't make it back, tell Davey he can do betta"

Jack hit him with a pillow "alright get outta here!"

Race did, and he knew just where to find the short Brooklyn leader.

~~~~~

The sun was just starting to set when he made it to the docks and a chill settled into his bones. Most if the newsies had already settled into the lodging house for the night, but if Spot looked as bad as Jack said he did then Race knew he'd be here.

Just as he had suspected, there on one of the crates sat Spot. He knew he was grinning like some lovestruck idiot but spot just looked so beautiful illuminated by the setting sun.

He clambered onto the crate with much less grace then he thought he'd have. The other didn't acknowledge him until he was sat down and settled.

"Didn't think you's comin' back" he sounded disinterested and unaffected, but when you've known him as long as Race, loved him as long as Race has, you'd know how to see past that. You'd see the way he furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms a little too tightly over his middle.

Race smiled softly "guess I missed ya too much," he said, bumping spot with his shoulder.

Spot scooted away and Race tried not to feel hurt. He didn't say anything so Race took the time to examine his face. Jack was right, he looked exhausted.

"Have ya slept at all since I left?" He asked softly, inching closer. Spot didn't move away.

"What's it to ya?" He sneered and Race flinched.

"I care bout ya, spotty, and I's worried," he said softly.

"If ya cared ya wouldn'ta left" for once he let some emotion slip into his voice and Race wished he would stay disinterested. He sounded tired and betrayed, and it tugged something awful at the taller boy's heartstrings.

"I left cause I care" he insisted,  grabbing the shorter boy's hand "I's- I's scared, Spotty. I's scared theys gonna hurt ya. I's scared they's gonna drag ya off to tha refuge an it'll be all cause I couldn't keep myself in check cause Jesus spotty, ya make me feel things that are fucking scary"

Spot watched him intently as he rambled and Race knew he was squeezing the life out of his hand with anxiety. The so-called king just shook his head and smiled softly, interlacing their hands.

"They ain't getting no king to no refuge, Racer," he said, bumping Race with his shoulder "gimme some credit"

Race just laid his head on Spot's shoulder and turned into his neck. "I just don't wanna lose ya"

Spot scoffed, but laid his head on top of his, kissing the top of his head "Ya ain't gonna lose me, Racer, I promise"

Race kissed the underside of his jaw "I love you, Sean"

"I love you too, Tony."

After of beat of silence Race still had a question. "Hey, how come Spades never ratted on us? Ya' said she wouldn't from the beginning even though you's the most important boy in Brooklyn," he finally pulled his head up and looked Spot in the eye, tilting his head in confusion.

Spot snorted "cause I's seen her bring home more girls then any a' my boys" Race went red and muttered an "oh" cause, of course, he freaked out and ran for no good reason, but Spot just kissed the side of his head and continued, "But she's real pissed at us, says she lost a bet cause we's didn't wait long enough" he said, amusement dancing in his brown eyes.

"They's makin' bets on us?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and only a little bit of fear.

"Guess we ain't as subtle as we's thought" he shrugged.

Race just smiled and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek "course we's is, I love ya so much they's could just feel it"

Spot snorted again and shoved his face away, scrubbing at his now wet cheek "gross, you's getting sappy on me"

Race held a hand to his heart "I can't believe the love a' my life won't even let me kiss him! It's a crime! Pure crime!"

The sun had set long ago so they sat laughing under a sea of stars. Spot rolled his eyes "That's cause that ain't a real kiss"

Race grinned and waggled his eyebrows "Then show me a real kiss"

And he did, under the cover of darkness, he dragged Race into a bruising kiss that softened once he had proven his point.

As Race tangled his hands in Spot's messy brown hair, he wondered how he could ever give this up.

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

It’s Lit

@wordshakerofgallifrey​ prompted “"all our friends are drunk" with whoever's most responsible between the Newsies and Les Mis revolutionaries (aka gimme more of your crossover please;))” This went more into crossover land in general and less into drunken shenanigans but I think you’ll like the outcome.  Rating: G Words: 2,750 Gen AO3

Combeferre had been looking forward to spending New Years in New York. Not that they were going to the ball drop, no one really wanted to deal with that crowd, but getting to go into the city and spend the time with his friends had been all he could think about since Katherine and her friends had invited them.

The day after Christmas he’d packed his bags and his mom had given him a ride to the airport. It was shorter and cheaper to just fly from Savannah than to try and drive or take a train. Some of his friends would be doing one or the other but he knew that Bahorel and Musichetta would be flying in too, they’d tried to coordinate their flights to all land around the same time so it was easier for whoever would be meeting them at JFK.

Combeferre checked his phone once they landed and it had time to power up, Specs had texted that he had found Chetta and they were by the rental car kiosk. He smiled as he typed out a quick reply.

The Newsies seemed to be taking the task of hosting the ABC for a week with aplomb, figuring out housing arrangements and airport/train pickup/drop-off schedules and relaying it through Katherine to their groupchat. By the time they were leaving Baltimore from their last summit the week before the holidays it had already been settled and all that needed to be done was ticket purchasing. Combeferre had asked for his plane tickets as a last-minute Christmas present and been thrilled when his grandparents handed him them, wrapped up in an overlarge box and stuck into a book on the legend of Mothman. The book had made the flight interesting, if only because of the strange looks from the guy sitting next to him.

He scanned the lobby, looking for the car rentals and subsequently Specs and Chetta in the spacious white and silver environment. They saw him first and started calling out to him and waving; Combeferre grinned and course corrected as he made his way over.

“Ferre!” Musichetta pulled him into a tight hug when she saw him, forcing him to let go of the handle of his small carry one to return it. “How was your holiday?”

“Good! Good. And yours?”

“Oh excellent. I got new shoes!” She twirled her foot to show him the boots that did look new.

“Nice,” he smiled before turning to Specs who had been watching them with a grin of his own. “And how’s your holiday?”

“Well hosting one of my friends from D.C. for a week definitely makes it pretty great.”

Combeferre laughed and hugged the other boy. They’d gotten close over the last semester and when he’d been told that he would be bunking with Specs for the week Ferre couldn’t stop grinning.

“Rel should be landing now,” Musichetta commented once they released each other, checking her watch.

“Cool. I had to park pretty far, just warning you now,” Specs said, giving them both a look. “So if you want to sit now’s your chance.”

“I’ve been sitting!” Chetta laughed. “I can stand and troop to your car yet. Trust me.”

Combeferre quirked an eyebrow. “You drive?”

“Yeah. It’s my mom’s car but it’s better than having to pay for a cab or an uber out here.”

“I didn’t think you could drive,” Combeferre said honestly.

Specs smirked. “Oh, cause I’m a New Yorker I can’t drive? I’m a rare breed, sure, but my grandma’s not from the city and she thinks that it’s a necessary skill so…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Well as long as we get where we need to be in time for food, I have no complaints,” Musichetta added with a twist of her lips.

“Race’s mom is hosting dinner for everyone tonight, homemade Italian,” Specs said.

“I heard, someone let that slip to R and he hasn’t been able to shut up about it. He got Joly and Boss set on it too.” She rolled her eyes but it was with love, not malice.

“Ayyyy-o!” Someone called out, drawing the attention of everyone in the lobby. They all looked to the area that led from the baggage claim where Bahorel was now walking, arms raised with duffel bag in hand and backpack on his shoulder.

Combeferre laughed as Musichetta let out a responding “Ayyyy-o!”

Bahorel ran the rest of the way over and pulled the trio into a tight hug.

When he could finally breathe again Combeferre turned to Bahorel with a raised brow. “Finally see Bohemian Rhapsody?” he guessed.

“And Mary Poppins and Aquaman.”

“Well you’ve got me beat. I only got to see Into the Spider-verse,” Specs said as they all turned to start the trek to the car.

“Oh how was it?” Chetta asked, leading to a conversation that ended up just being about John Mulaney by the time they actually got to the car. Specs wasn’t kidding about having to park far away.

They’d all left their bags in the trunk of Spec’s mom’s Toyota as they walked up to the apartment building in Manhattan Racetrack Higgins called home, at least for now. Specs had told them about how he and his boyfriend Spot were trying to find a place to move into together at the end of the spring semester.

Specs pressed the buzzer, waving at the camera with a warm smile. The door clicked open and he ushered them in. When they got off on the eleventh floor they turned a corner and upon reaching the door at the end of the hall Specs raised a hand to knock. A lanky boy with dirty blonde curls answered, pulling Specs immediately into a hug when he did.

“Race! Let me go!” Specs laughed as he tried to fight the other boy off, who by this point had turned the hug into a headlock even though Specs had a couple inches on him. He finally did and Specs shot him a dirty look before rounding on the three ABC members behind him. “This is Bahorel, Musichetta, and Combeferre,” he pointed to each in turn and Ferre gave a little wave at his name. “Racetrack,” Specs finished, pointing back at the boy still standing in the doorway.

“Welcome to the madhouse, keep your coats on,” Racetrack said and stepped aside to let them in.

The apartment wasn’t exactly small, after seeing Jehan’s micro apartment Combeferre had a new appreciating and understanding of what constituted a small home, but it was cramped. Filled to the bursting with people.

“We’re all going up to the roof then so you don’t have to sit on anyone’s lap to eat,” Racetrack called over his shoulder as he led the way. “My family’s pretty big so my ma knows how to cook in bulk and made up her mind before I could point out the space issue. Just be glad that the cousins aren’t all here yet, you wouldn’t be able to even get in the door then.”

Ferre took the plastic plate someone had handed him and began loading it up from the platters of food on the dining table. Some seemed to be leftovers from Christmas dinner the day before but there was still more that looked freshly homemade. Suddenly starving now that there was food in front of him everything else seemed to disappear but the table until someone clapped him on the shoulder. Combeferre startled but held onto his plate, turning to find Courfeyrac grinning at him.

“Happy Boxing Day!” Courf raised his own plate piled high.

Ferre snorted. “Boxing Day?”

“Technically my family is French-Canadian. It’s a Canadian holiday.”

“Your family has lived in Maine for the past hundred years,” Ferre said dryly.

Courf seemed unperturbed by this fact, just shrugging and turning to head back out to the living room where people seemed to be crawling out a window and up the fire escape.

“We were in Canada for Christmas,” Courf called over his shoulder as Ferre followed him.

Combeferre scoffed. “You were in upstate New York for Christmas.”

“Right. Canada.”

“You’re from Maine, you’re not allowed to call Albany Canada.”

“I dunno, it’s pretty close,” a boy about their age with fluffy blonde hair sticking up from under a knitted lime green beanie that Grantaire would be jealous of when he saw it had said from where he stood next to the window. It took a second to recognize him but once he did Combeferre grinned.

“See! Charlie here agrees with me!” Courf said with a smile. It was the one he only got when someone joined in on his ridiculousness. Combeferre had a love hate relationship with that smile.

Charlie smirked and held out his hand to Courf. “I’ll hold your plate while you climb through. There’s drinks up there already.”

“Oh! Thank you,” Courfeyrac beamed at him.

Once Courf was on his way up the fire escape Combeferre turned to Charlie. “You really don’t have to encourage him.”

“I’m from Manhattan, Albany really is Canada to me,” Charlie joked.

Combeferre snorted as he took his plate back. “Do you want help with the steps?” he asked, guessing that Bossuet had already given Joly a piggy back up to the top.

“Thanks but Jack’s gonna come. Besides it’s nice and toasty in here,” Charlie smirked and Combeferre nodded in return before starting up the stairs.

Charlie was going to soak up the warmth while he could and Ferre wouldn’t blame him for it. It wasn’t exactly cold out but it certainly wasn’t normal picnic weather. Yet that’s where they were all eating, on picnic tables on the apartment building’s roof. A small patio area with lights was all set up and it looked like just about everyone was there from the ABC with nearly as many Newsies.

“Combeferre!” Someone called and he turned to see Enjolras motioning him over to their table.

Setting his food down Combeferre folded his long legs under wood top and turned to see who all he was sitting with. Enjolras and Grantaire seemed to be next to him with Katherine, her boyfriend Jack, and David were across from him. Jack, David, and Charlie had all been to visit Katherine and Specs so Combeferre was glad to see the familiar faces so soon.

“Hey Ferre,” Kath smiled, lifting a glass filled with dark liquid to him in a small toast.

“It’s good to see you Katherine,” he told her. “I must admit though, I hadn’t realized you were a vampire.”

Katherine noticed his look to her glass and laughed. “It’s sangria. Race’s sister smuggled all the alcohol up here, something about if we’re going to be outside we might as well stay warm. Just, uh, mind the gap,” she giggled.

Combeferre caught David rolling his eyes. “She means don’t fall off the roof. It’s a bit stronger than anyone expected.”

“And she spent the entire day yesterday watching British movies with her sisters,” Jack snorted.

“So what?” Kath turned on him, a fire in her eyes. Combeferre couldn’t help the corners of his mouth from twitching up at that, he’d missed her and it had only been a few weeks.

Jack started teasing her, something Grantaire joined in on eagerly. Combeferre let the jokes flow around him as he began to eat what he was willing to call some of the best homemade food in his life. Not that he’d let his mother know that. The conversation changed to an actual topic, rather than just poking fun at Katherine, and Combeferre listened with interest. Combeferre realized that Charlie had joined them at some point and grinned as he said something that had Enjolras laughing.

Their table seemed to become the nucleus of the gathering, everyone coming over at some point to join their conversation. Combeferre also realized that everyone seemed to be getting steadily drunker. Even Enjolras seemed to be more than a bit tipsy, the sangria really being stronger than anyone had anticipated. Grantaire could hold his liquor but if the volume of his laughter was anything to go by then he was edging towards being inebriated too.

Everyone had finished eating at this point and Combeferre as fairly sure he’d been introduced to all the Newsies as someone pulled out a speaker and started playing Queen. The effect was instantaneous as a little over two dozen college kids all started singing “Mama, just killed a man…”

Combeferre couldn’t help himself, it was hilarious, but he knew that if Enjolras saw him laughing the blonde would get offended and the effect would be ruined. So, he got up from the table and moved to stand at the edge of the patio, laughing at his friends from the shadows.

“All our friends are drunk,” someone said from next to him. Combeferre glanced over to see that David had joined him. Ferre couldn’t read his expression and his tone had been hard to decipher too; whether David was annoyed or amused by this turn of events was anyone’s guess.

“I don’t think anyone thought this through, getting back down and into the apartment is going to present a challenge.”

David winced. “I’d forgotten about getting them back through the window and past Race’s parents.”

“Well we could dump the drinks and force them to dry out?” Combeferre suggested.

“I’m fairly certain they finished it all off themselves. I just checked the cooler and it’s only capri suns in there.”

Combeferre couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him at that. At this whole situation. David shot him a questioning glance. “I’m on a roof in the middle of New York City with a bunch of young, arguably, revolutionaries who have drunk literally everything but a bunch of juice boxes and are now thoroughly sloshed as a result. On the day after Christmas.”

“It is kind of crazy,” David said with a twist of his lips.

“I think my favorite part is how in to the song they all are.”

David’s head fell back a little as he laughed. “They really are. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Spot that invested before and we play this song at parties a lot.”

An idea creeped into the back of Combeferre’s mind as he saw Courfeyrac grab Marius and start jumping up and down, Bahorel and Cosette dramatically singing to each other, and Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta huddled around Joly’s cane as if it were a microphone. Even Enjolras had been pulled in, with his arms slung over Feuilly and Katherine’s shoulders as they swayed.

“Do you know whose phone is playing this?” He turned to David quickly.

“Probably Mush. He has a tendency to dj.”

“Do you think we could steal his phone and queue up some songs of our own?”

“Seeing as he’s trapped under Blink right now and I can see his phone on the table from here I’d say so.”

Combeferre glanced to where David had nodded. Blink was indeed sitting on Mush’s lap and had his arms wrapped around the other boy, giving the impression that Mush was truly trapped. Not that he looked like he minded.

“Be right back,” David said. He slipped around the edges of the patio, coming up behind Mush and Blink and swiping the phone off the table before retracing his route to come stand next to Combeferre again. He tapped at the phone and after a couple tries got it unlocked. “It’s Blink’s birthday. They’re cute if gross,” he supplied at Combeferre’s raised brow. “So, what did you have in mind?”

Combeferre passed David his own phone, a playlist called “White People Get Turnt” already pulled up. David laughed at the name but typed it in to Mush’s spotify search bar and found it on the first try. As soon as Bohemian Rhapsody’s final gong began to fade he pressed play and Mr. Brightside started up, to everyone’s excitement.

“So maybe most of us aren’t white, it’s still the best party playlist we’ve found,” Combeferre said with a shrug as their friends began to scream along to the lyrics. Combeferre raised his phone, zooming in slightly so that it was clear who was who in the video as he started recording.

“Really?” David whispered when he noticed.

“You have no idea how rare Enjolras acting like this is. It’s for posterity.”

David just snorted. They shared a wicked smile before going back to watching their friends make absolute fools of themselves.