she takes really good care of me when i'm sick

anonymous asked:

Could you please write one where Race takes care of the reader (a girlsie) when she gets sick while selling? I'm having a really bad day and I think it might help me feel better, I really love your blog :)

i’ve received a lot of requests for Race, and that makes me so gosh darn pleased, you guys. the next one i’ll have up will be a crutchie one, so be on the lookout. hope i could make your day a little better.—Nails

Nearly half your papers gone… Seemed like as good a time as any to break for lunch, you figured. Hopefully, you’d run into some of the boys, and they’d split the cost of some bread with you, like always. Today seemed to drag on and on, more so than other days. Your head felt full, and your ears muffled. There had been a cold going around among the boys… You pushed the possibility of that out of your mind and kept walking.

“Hey, there, lady!” Finch called. He was waiting outside glittering cafe with Albert. You couldn’t help but grin slightly at the goofy duo. Albert waved, a smile on his cheeks, and some dirt on his nose. “Took you long enough, you’re usu'ly the first one ‘ere.” Finch said. The pair of them embraced you.

You shrugged. “Tired, I think.” Your head immediately snapped away from them, feeling almost sick from how quickly you turned. The rabble coming from down the street was rabble that only could’ve belonged to two New Yorkers. Romeo and Race. Practically brothers, they were. Always pushing and daring each other, but wholly protective, especially Racetrack over Romeo. The shorter boy on Race’s back as they ran up.

Romeo clambered off of Race, and grinned. “Hello girls. And (Name).” He said. Albert firmly smacked him across the back of the head, firmly letting him know how stupid he was. There were very few things you loved more than watching the boys interact freely like this. It was a refreshing sight. You let out a couple of hard coughs, before Race walked over to you.

“Hey you,” the blonde boy started. Race placed an arm around your shoulder lazily. The two of you were… It was uncertain what you were. Always playing cat and mouse, it seemed. It was assumed by the others that the two of you were a couple, but there had been no formal agreement about anything between you. There was just Race and (Name). And that felt like what you two needed. Soft kisses on the cheek, fingers intertwined, shared cigarettes, support. “You sellin’ okay? New spot and all…” He asked.

You shook the bag of papers at your side and coughed again. “Near half.” You rasped. Race gave you a slight look, almost checking on you, and pulled his hat off. You cleared your throat and looked up at him slowly, afraid of making yourself dizzy again. “Your hair’s a rat’s nest, Race.” You reached a hand up to comb it back with your fingers, but he softly swatted your hand back, laughing.

Race turned back to the group of hooligans. “Alright, boys let’s get somethin’ ta eat.” He jeered. The lot of you poured through the doors, disrupting the quiet of the building, like every afternoon. After looking through the loaves of bread, you all agreed on one soft white bread. “Finch, check my math. Five cents a piece?” Race said, checking the price of the loaf.

“Five cents a piece.” The boy confirmed. All of the newsies reached for their pockets, pulling out pennies, Romeo got lucky and had a nickel. He always ended up with nickels. You stifled another cough into your elbow, and swiped at your nose with your sleeve. It wasn’t exactly your sleeve, it was Crutchie. He’d given you this shirt. You shoved your hand into your pocket and felt around for coins.

Race looked over at you. His eyes were flooded with concern. “Hey, no,” Race said softly. “I’ve got it.” You immediately opened your mouth to protest, with your newly gravely throat.

“No, ya don’t g-got it. I’m payin’.” You insisted. Race had already handed over the money for both of you before you could even finish. “Tony Higgins, I cannot believe you.” You crossed your arms over your chest at the boy. He just rolled his eyes at you. Romeo muttered a comment about you being dramatic. He was one to talk. After paying, you all stepped back on the the patio and sat down on the floor.

Albert placed his legs on top of yours and started to tear the bread apart and pass it around the group. Race pulled a couple of cigarettes out of his pocket, and offered one to you. Sadly, you declined with a cough and a shake of your head, and wiped some sweat off your face. “Alright, (Name), are you feeling okay?” He asked.

“Race, I—” a wheeze betrayed.

His face was laced with the highest of worry. “Come on, let’s get you back…” Race started.

“I gotta sell!”

Race grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up gently. “I’ll see you guys later. (Name) ain’t feeling so well, I’m gonna watch her.” You had no say now. Race walked you back to the lodging house, being almost too careful with you. The love in his eyes was ever present. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, Race.”

“That’s a lie. You was coughin’ and wheezin’. Let’s get you inside.”

He helped you into a bunk, and pulled some of your layers of clothing off. “You’re burning up, beautiful.” Race mumbled. “I’m gonna go getcha some water and a rag, alright?”

“Alright, try not to worry too much while you’re gone.” You whispered. He would worry, though. He was almost as big of a worrier as Davey. His brow would knit in on itself, and he would start to chew his lip. That was the look you saw every time you got soaked, busted, or sick. Worried Race, lead to angry Race and from there, it was a downward spiral. He reappeared with everything he’d mentioned. The tall boy dipped the cloth strip in the cool bowl and pressed it to your cheek. “I can do that, y-you goon.”

Race sigh. “Can’t I help you out this once? Show you that I actually give a shit?” He mumbled. “Because I do. And you scare the hell outta me sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s just a cold.”

Race shrugged, hands never leaving your face, which his was getting closer and closer to. “It’s better practice for next time. Just… Just let me try to be a good boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend…?”

“If you’re good with that, I mean—”

“Yes.”