They'd been together a grand total of six days, and Spot Conlon was pretty much gone for Racer.

He snuck a side-glance at the boy next to him. They were sitting on the fire escape at the Manhattan Lodging House, holding hands in the moonlight.

The other newsboys were out and about, what with it being New Year's Eve. It was nearing midnight, and Race had led Spot outside.

"It's pretty out," he'd said, despite the slight snowfall and the bitter cold. Spot didn't care much, though, because he'd immediately called Racer pretty afterwards, to which he'd earned a kiss.

Now, they were sitting in silence, comfortable in each other's presence, waiting for the countdown to midnight to arise from the streets.

Race caught him staring. "Som'tin' wrong, Spot?" he smiled (the beautiful, dazzling thing that Spot loved so much; he'd do anything for that smile and the boy that owned it— ANYTHING).

"Nah, you's just nice ta look at," he smirked in reply. Racer blushed, running a hand through his hair. Spot reached out and caught it, bringing Race's hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

Race's face reddened further and he scooted over to Spot. He leaned onto his side, and Spot slung an arm around his shoulder. He kissed his hair, and Race snuggled in a little closer.

He checked the battered pocket watch Jack had let him borrow. "Five minutes," Racetrack whispered, looking for the moon. Midnight was nigh, so he had to tilt his head pretty much straight up. He snorted. "I's not thinkin' tha' through."

Spot smiled softly at him, stroking his shoulder. "You's the smartest dumbass I know."

"Shaddup."

They lapsed into silence again. Then, after a little time, a roar arose from the streets below. A countdown. Racer checked the watch. "20 seconds."

The counting became more distinct, and they joined in.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

"Happy New Year!" the words from below were more like shouts of rejoice, but Spot's voice in Race's ear was quiet, as was his own. It was a private moment between the two of them.

And when he turned to kiss him, the fireworks were in his stomach, bright colours soaring through his body in great displays.

They broke apart, foreheads still touching.

"Happy New Year, Spot," he whispered. "I's gonna spend it all wit ya."

"Happy New Year, Racer. Whatever happens, I'm'a stay 'ight 'ere."

Race smiled and kissed him again. He repeated the promise. "Whatever happens."

Let's Begin...


A/N: again, I forgot to post this here! This is a follow-up to It's Cold Outside, in the same AU which I'm calling I've Got Brooklyn. Anyways it's short but sweet. Hope y'all enjoyed it!