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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

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In the SPOTlight

this is for my main bitch, @labert-dasilver ‘s, birthday. thank u for being my partner in crime, the other half to my chaotic duo, the al to my race, the angst filter to my wild 3 am ideas. i truly don’t know where id be without u. happy birthday, queen!!! i love you

oof ima note that i’m basing the workings of this off my own theatre director and cue to cue and shit yeah #theatre life

warnings: none

ship: sprace

editing: nopee

“Alright, we’re running Step in Time! Full tech,” Medda Larkin, Manhattan High’s theatre director called through her megaphone from the top of the house, “Why isn’t Antonio on stage, and Sean!”

Spot Conlon peeked his head out of the booth, “Yes, Miss Medda?”

“Why are the house lights still up?”

“Sorry! Sorry,” The house lights lowered gradually, until only the lights on stage and cyc lights were up.

“Thank you!” Spot shot a thumbs up out of the booth and turned back to the lighting board. At that moment, Racetrack Higgins ran on stage, looking entirely frazzled with his button down shirt untucked and suspenders half on. He had a broom tucked under his chin and he was struggling to straighten out his costume.

“Antonio, where were you? We can’t start Step in Time without our Bert,” Medda reprimanded, her voice coming out tingy through the megaphone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Race called, sheepishly, snapping his suspenders up and propping the broom over his shoulder, “I misplaced my old broom so Whiz had to find me another.”

“God bless Whiz,” Medda sighed, “What would we do without her?”

“Crash and burn, probably,” Finch called from one of the spots.

“Anyway, we all ready?” Medda called, drumming her fingers haughtily. Race and Katherine, their production’s Mary, called confirmations and the music started up. Race began to sing, his voice filling the theatre, but as soon as he started, Medda called for him to stop. The music cut out abruptly and Race and Katherine blinked at each other in confusion.

“There’s supposed to be a spot on Race,” Medda said, “Who else is on spot besides Finch?”

Spot grumbled to himself, sticking his head out of the booth to peer at the other spot booth. It was empty. Figures.

“Uh, looks like Romeo isn’t doing what he’s supposed to,” Spot called back, “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Medda answered, growing impatient, “But we don’t have time for this. Get someone else to do it!”

Spot let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his short hair, “Uhhh, fuck, uh Jack?” He turned to his crewhead that had previously been scrolling through his phone on the mildewy futon that they kept in the booth. They really had to replace that thing.

“Yeah?” Jack said, looking up and abandoning his phone beside him.

“Could you take over the lightboard? I gotta go run Romeo’s spot.”

Jack shrugged and wordlessly plopped himself at the station.

“Thanks, man,” Spot said, already jogging down to Romeo’s vacant position.

“Is everything handled?” Medda asked.

“Yep!” Spot shouted.

“Lovely,” Medda placed her megaphone down, “Start at the top!”

Race and Katherine scrambled back over to stage left, Les and Smalls, who were playing Jane and Michael, on their heels.

The song restarted, this time with both of the spots, and everything went smoothly until, “Sean Conlon, why is the spot still on Antonio! It’s supposed to be on Katherine, you know, the one actually dancing right now!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Spot called, blushing.

“Back to the top!”

Race and Katherine exchanged exasperated glances as they slumped back over to their starting position. They made it through almost the entirety of the song when, “Sean Conlon, for the last time, get the spot off of Mr. Higgins and on Ms. Plumber!”

Race smirked in the direction of the spot that had been following him almost feverishly for the past two minutes, “Hey, Spottie, for someone literally named after his craft, you’re pretty distractible. I mean, I understand that these pants really make my ass pop, but you still gotta do your job correctly.” Spot felt his face heat up as he watched Katherine smack Race’s arm.

“Nah, just highlighting your ugliness,” Spot retorted, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.

“You’re really bad at comebacks,” Race called smugly, “‘Specially when you’re flustered. I can’t see you, but I can practically feel your blush.”

“Screw you, Higgins!”

“You wish, Conlon!”

“Alright you two,” Medda interrupted, waving her hands to stop the boys’ bickering, “Keep the flirting to your own time. We need to finish this scene.”

This time, Race blushed as well, but they set up for the beginning of the song nonetheless. No mistakes were made this time, no doubt a result of Spot attempting to avoid further ridicule. The actors hit their final pose and Spot slowly brought down the spotlight, then jogged back to the booth to bring up the house lights.

“Thank you for finally pulling that together, guys,” Medda addressed the cast and crew, “Take, say, fifteen minutes to break and then we’ll plug through the rest of the show with tech.”

Spot let out a breath of relief as everyone dispersed. Cue to cue days were always long and breaks were far and few in between, so it was nice when they were finally granted one. He grabbed his water bottle and exited the booth to refill it. When he got out, he found Race standing by the water fountain, eating an apple.

Butterflies bubbled in Spot’s stomach upon the sight of his long time crush up close, but he ignored them and feigned confidence, “Aye, Higgins, no eating in costume.”

Race looked up in surprise, hastily moving to hide the apple, but stopping when he realized who Spot was, “Whatever,” Race said, biting into his apple.

“That’s no way to treat your resident lighting designer,” Spot said, bending over to fill up his bottle, “Ya know, actors should really learn to respect us techies more.”

Race quirked an eyebrow, “And techies should learn to follow the correct actor when working the spotlight. I mean, c’mon, Spottie, am I really that irresistible?”

Spot straightened up, a new sort of challenging intensity in his eyes, “Yeah, actually, you are.”

Race’s eyes widened and he reached forward, pulling Spot in by the front of the shirt. Before their lips could connect, one of the assistant stage managers, Elmer, peeked his head through the stage door, “Five minutes.”

Spot and Race didn’t break eye contact as they answered, “Thank you five!”

There was a moment of tension where neither boy moved, then Spot leaned in and kissed Race. The taller boy melted into the kiss, releasing his grip on Spot’s shirt in order to hold his hips. Their lips fit together soundly, and Spot could feel the butterflies spark up again as warmth spread throughout his body. They broke apart after what could have been hours, both of them smiling serenely.

“Hey,” Race murmured, “I think I’m a spotlight and you’re on lighting crew ‘cause you turn me on.”

Spot furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, taken aback, “Was that a lighting pick-up line?”

Race nodded, “Sure was.”

Spot threw his head back in laughter, Race joining him a moment later, “Real classy, Higgins.”

“Ah suck it, Conlon.”

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#newsies fic #newsies #racetrack higgins #sprace #spot conlon #spot is called spot cuz he works with spotlights ahahahhahah get it #i love you whiz #happy birthday #rip el sorry bro #ur iconic line #whidget

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