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collecting-stories · 5 years

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Enchanted - Crutchie Morris

A/N: canon-era newsies fic. Based on AKB’s Crutchie cause he’s too cute.

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There was no denying that Crutchie, with his strawberry-blond hair and effervescent smile, was a sight to behold. The last bit of light illuminating a room through a window and warming anyone who stood in its path. Perhaps a little blinding at first glance but nevertheless beautiful and welcomed amidst the gloom of everyday life in New York. A vast and overpowering city, it was want to make you miss the farm you’d worked on before this but Crutchie made it a little more bearable, even if you only saw him briefly as you grabbed the paper and groceries for your employers.

“I really am starting to get used to the market,” you mentioned, bright and early as you skimmed the front page of the paper you were sure to purchase.

“I can’t believe theys don’t have ‘em up north.” Crutchie replied, sparing a smile for a lady that was passing. She slowed and he waved a paper in her direction, seeming to reel her in with it the way one might reel in a fish.

“I’m sure they do but there’s no need for them where I lived, didn’t make a lick of sense to be selling eggs to people who can already buy eggs. Not even milk delivery came ‘round.” You confided as you finally pulled a nickel from your coin purse.

“That’s too much,” Crutchie insisted, as he always did.

In truth it did cut into your income to pay him a full nickel or dime instead of the penny it cost for the paper but you weren’t bother led by it. The family you were in service to now boarded you in their home and you had no one to send your income to so it was solely yours.

“It’s a tip,” you insisted right back, “your smile is like the sun on a winter day Crutchie.”

Crutchie flushed a red so deep it looked threatened to match the beets in your basket. It dusted his ears and his freckles disappeared completely.

“Yous got a way wit words.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Crutchie.” You promised, tucking the paper under your arm and heading in the direction of your house.

You looked nice enough, plain of dress but he didn’t think anything of it. You had never said you were in service to the household where you lived only that you lived on Poplar street and Crutchie knew it to be richer folk. Not the Katherine Pulitzers of the world, surely, but richer than Davey’s family by leaps and bounds. All you had told him was that you had moved here from up north. You regaled him with tales of the white winters and the beautiful summers in the farming community. The woods and the vast amounts of green pastures everywhere. It sounded like a fairytale, a place too good to be true, like Jack’s Santa Fe. Why should anyone trade such an ideal for the overcrowded streets of New York? He was want to ask but it knew it wasn’t his place. He didn’t know you like that.

Crutchie has met you the first time you’d gone to the market, walking home frustrated and completely lost, you’d flagged the newsie and asked directions. He’d been hooked ever since. Jack told him that he gave too much of himself to others and that he ought to be careful.

“Tread lightly.” Were his exact words.

But Crutchie couldn’t be bothered listening. He was sitting up late at night scrubbing stains out of his vest that had been there since it was sewn. There was no convincing him to go about things slowly.

“Extra! Extra! Gold found in New York!” Crutchie shouted, waving his arm as he held the paper up. Down the street he could hear Racetrack shouting about a baby born with two heads. Impossible but Racetrack was just sure enough of himself to convince a person it might be true.

“Least gold makes sense, all those folks moving to the gold towns out west.” Crutchie had joked earlier that morning as he split a stale bagel with his housemate.

“Theys ain’t stupid, New York ain’t got nothing but rats and garbage.”

“But theys supposed ta believe a baby wit two heads?”

“I can’t argue wit the people Crutch. They like crazy stories.” Racetrack replied, stuffing the rest of the bagel in his mouth and swallowing it down with water.

“Just don’t go spreading ya stories on my corner. I’ll have ta soak ya.” Crutchie teased, pretending to whack his friend with his crutch.

Race was far enough away that he wasn’t pulling any business from Crutchie but he could still hear the over-sensationalised story being advertised to the folks of New York. Both boys would age of the lodge, and of newsie work, soon and they’d been talking about splitting rent with Finch and Mush somewhere near by. There were more than a couple tenement buildings around and Finch had already gotten a second job running machines at a factory near the Hudson. But before Crutchie threw in the towel on being a newsie he wanted to see where his chances sat with you. If he wasn’t hawking papers every morning you’d have no reason to see him, unless you wanted to.

That was the thing that Jack was warning caution with. Asking you out, confessing his feelings, it was all nice in theory but you had better prospects than a homeless newsie, especially one depended on a crutch.

“Crutchie!”

He sold off another paper and pocketed the penny before spinning himself to see you walking his way, waving as you got closer. You waved the way people waved ships out of the harbour, excited and joyful.

“Here for the pape?” He asked, already pulling one out.

“I am, I heard a story about a baby born with two heads but I suspect he was lying.” You announced, “what’s yours say?”

“I’s got gold in New York,” Crutchie offered, handing over the paper that did indeed speak of gold-fever outside the city.

“Golds tricky business. If it’s there it’s good but if it’s not...” you trailed off, your usual smile faltering just a bit as you took the paper from him.

“Ya ever seen any?”

“No, can’t say I have.” You perused the paper as usual, reading through the front page as Crutchie continued to sell.

“Before ya head off,” Crutchie began to say, drawing your attention away from the paper. “I’s wondered if I could escort ya home sometime?”

“I would love that,” you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face. You’d been stopping to chat up Crutchie for a while now because you liked the newsboy. He was cute and charming and funny and while you were sure he flirted with everyone you liked when he smiled at you and flirted with you. “You could uh, walk me back today?” You offered.

You had been in the city long enough that you knew both the longest and the quickest route to get home. You took Crutchie the long way back, walking slowly as you did. All the rules about flirting you had learned from the kids at your last service. The shy looks, the accidental brush of a hand or a trip over air only to hold his hand, a sweet smile and laugh at everything he said. You disregarded all of those rules though, instead taking Crutchie’s free arm and walking with him along the street.

“Do ya like the city so far?” Crutchie asked.

“It’s nice...it’s always busy. I do like that this house has less kids, and less land.” You replied, “walking to get some eggs at market is a lot easier than wrestling with a bunch of chickens every morning. Or milking a cow!”

“Oh,” Crutchie said, “I thought yous lived on Poplar.” He was surprised to hear you say that you were in service. But more than that he felt a little more hopeful.

“I do, but I live in the servants’ rooms, off the kitchen.” You explained, “it’s a pretty nice job, all things considered.”

“I’m sure it beats being a newsie.” He replied.

“For me certainly, I’d be a lousy newsie...no one would ever buy a pape from me.”

“I would.”

“You’re too sweet to me Crutchie.”

“I mean it, nothing sells a paper faster than a beautiful face.” He replied, blush staining his cheeks.

“That’s why you sell so many,” you teased, leaning over quickly and kissing his cheek. You pulled away just as fast, watching the smile that took over his face.

The two of you walked the rest of the way back in silence, stealing quick glances at each other. When you arrived at your employer’s house on Poplar you led him to the side entrance, in the alley. The kitchen door was open and a few of the other workers were inside, pretending not to look at the two of you but glancing over curiously.

“Thanks for escorting me home Crutchie, I really enjoyed walking with you.”

“Maybe I could walk you tomorrow too?” He offered, holding your hand.

“I would really like that.” You said, kissing his cheek once more, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Crutchie took the quick way home, heading straight for Racetrack’s corner to tell his friend that he owed him a dime. Racetrack had bet Crutchie that she would be too upper-class for him but two kisses and the promise to walk together tomorrow told Crutchie otherwise. He had won, more than just the dime he was already planning on using to buy you a bouquet of flowers for tomorrow.

More newsies.

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