Disclaimer: Sadly, Newsies still doesn't belong to me, it belongs to Disney.

A/N: This is my little contribution to Delancey Week. It was definitely a challenge. I hope you like it. It's one of those random things...

"What happened to you?"

It's those four little words, strung together with an nonplussed expression, that are asked when the recipient of such an inquiry appears to be looking the worse for wear. For Morris Delancey, it was the most logical question to ask after his brother walked into their apartment looking a little more than just the worse for wear. He looked more like he had tried to wrestle a grizzly.

Stumbling through the door, Oscar had a hand against his nose, attempting to stem the flow of blood, which stained his fingers. There was a welt, the size of a quarter, that was slowly turning purple beneath his left eye. His clothes, which had been neatly pressed before his departure, were all rumpled and askew, with traces of dirt and scuffs in various indicative places.

Oscar made the attempt to scowl in response to his brother's question, but the expression did quite hit its mark because any sort of facial movement seemed to send a pain shooting across his cheek. He groaned, crossing quickly into the kitchen where he pulled a towel from one of the drawers and pressed it against his face, hoping to put an end to the bleeding. Leaning against the stove, he watched Morris shovel a few more spoonfuls of food into his mouth before glancing up over his bowl.

"At least tell me the other guy looks worse than you."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I got 'em real good." Oscar shifted uneasily, trying to play it cool. He pointed to his own injuries with a dismissive shrug. "This ain't nothing compared to what I done to him."

Morris nodded proudly, a cocky grin pulling at his lips. "Was it one of Cowboy's newsies?"

"Nah, it was, uh, some kid from Queens, real big fella too," Oscar explained, not quite meeting Morris' eye when he spoke. He had fashioned the story on his way home; it seemed like the most plausible explanation under the circumstances. The whole incident, what really happened, was nothing short of embarrassing, to say the least, and Oscar had a reputation to protect. Not that it would be protected, the truth wouldn't stay hidden for long, but he still couldn't bring himself to admit what had actually happened. "He thought he'd get smart with me, but I got the last laugh."

"No kiddin'?" Morris chuckled darkly. "I wish I'd been there to see it. I mean, it musta been some fight, huh?"

"Yeah, some fight..." Oscar nodded, chuckling the towel into the sink. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying his best to fake a yawn. "Look, I'm beat, alright? I'm gonna try to sleep it off."

"Yeah, alright."

Without so much as a 'good night', Oscar hurried into the bedroom and threw himself onto his bed. Hugging his pillow, he let his mind replay the evening's incident over and over in his mind, sinking him into an uneasy sleep.

"Morris, ya got a cigarette?" Oscar asked, after discovering that he was completely out.

Shaking his head, Morris replied, "I only got two left and I ain't sharin'."

Oscar scowled, though he didn't blame he brother for not sharing; if the tables had been turned, he wouldn't have shared either. So, knowing that he couldn't go the rest of the night without smoking, Oscar decided to make the short journey, a few blocks down the street, to the little corner shop that conveniently sold cigarettes.

The little excursion didn't take too long. After spending only a few minutes in the shop, Oscar exited with a brand new pack of cigarettes tucked in one pocket and a box of matches in the other. He had only walked a block or so when he stopped, unable to wait any longer. Leaning casually against the side of a building, he pulled the recent acquisitions from his pockets to satisfy his craving.

The flame from the match was just about to ignite the end of the cigarette when he caught sight of a girl walking down the street, toward him. He knew her, not personally, but he had seen her around, mostly in this mornings when she was collecting her newspapers at the distribution center. Oscar only knew two things about her: she was a part of Jack Kelly's circle of friends and that she was called Rivet. He also knew that something about her had drawn his interest over the last week. But, being who he was, made it difficult to pursue a girl who ran with the Manhattan newsies.

Oscar yelped and dropped the forgotten match as it singe his fingers. He rubbed his fingertips against his slacks to ease the pain, never taking his eyes off Rivet. This could be his one chance to talk with her, alone.

He smiled at her as she grew closer, but what she offered him in return left him very disheartened. Upon seeing his grin, Rivet furrowed her eyebrows, averted her eyes, and skirted to the edge of the sidewalk, putting as much space between them as possible as she passed.

It was at a moment like this that Oscar truly hated the reputation that surrounded him and his brother. Sure, they weren't exactly friendly with any of the Manhattan newsies; it was one of those long running rivalries, which has been going on for so long that no one really remembers where it all started. They had simply fallen into a rut, playing their parts day in and day out, and they couldn't escape.

Now, newsgirls were still something of a novelty; there weren't a whole lot of them, but those who buddied up with Jack Kelly were quick to side against the Delanceys. They seemed to regard them as a couple of malicious goons, who'd as soon rough up a little kid as attack a girl in a dark alley just for kicks. Newsies were one thing, but girls were a different matter entirely.

Oscar felt a small surge of anger pulse through his veins as he watched her blatantly avoid him. It was for reasons such as this, that he hated Jack Kelly. He blamed the Cowboy for his poor luck with girls; they were all afraid of him. This time though, he wasn't going to let Jack Kelly win.

Adjusting his bowler hat, Oscar pushed away from the wall, walking alongside of the girl. He tried smiling again.

"Hey," he said. "Where ya off to?"

"Ain't none of yer business," she muttered, pushing her hair out of her face. Her pace began to quicken.

He made another attempt to engage her in a conversation. "I'm Oscar-"

"I know who ya are," she cut in snidely, giving him a incredulous sideways glance. "D'ya mind, I'm kinda in a hurry."

"Awe, come on."

And that was when Oscar made the mistake of grabbing her arm. He only wanted to stop her for a moment, to talk with her. Apparently, it didn't come across that way, because before he knew it she had decked him square in the face. He stumbled backwards, still holding onto her arm, now for additional support, which brought the pair of them crashing to the pavement. She let loose a panicked shout and lashed out with every ounce of strength she could muster, wriggling from his grasp. Oscar could do no more than cower under her blows as she left him in a crumpled heap.

When the walloping ceased, Oscar peered out over his arms in time to see her running, full speed, down the street. He watched her until she rounded the corner, out of sight. Oscar rolled over onto his back and looked up at the night sky, angry, embarrassed, and perplexed by what had just happened. Feeling the blood trickling down his face, he sat up and held the back of his sleeve against the flow. Grumbling, he pushed himself to his feet and started the journey home, knowing that Morris was going to want to know what had happened to him. He'd have to lie, for now.

The next morning, Oscar reluctantly followed Morris to the distribution center. There was no doubt in his mind that Rivet had told Jack Kelly all about their confrontation the night before. The thought made his stomach turn; all of Manhattan would soon know that Oscar Delancey had been soaked by a girl, a black mark on his reputation. It was certain that a thing like this, he would never live down.

Oscar was so preoccupied with the potential humiliation that awaited him, he didn't even bother to push anyone around as he and Morris made their way toward the gates. As usual, Jack Kelly, flanked by his posse, was waiting at the front of the herd. The daily ritual, which typically pitted the Delanceys against Jack, was about to begin.

Standing to one side of Jack was Rivet. She gave Oscar an all-knowing grin as he faced the group of newsies. He tried his best to look as intimidating as possible, considering the circumstances. Watching as Jack exchanged a look with Rivet, Oscar scowled, knowing exactly what was coming next.

"Ya gotta watch who ya meet on the streets late at night, ain't that right, Oscar?" Jack said with a smirk. "Hey fellas, if ya ever got a problem with Oscar here, Rivet'll sort it out for ya."

All the newsies laughed as Jack gave Rivet a hearty nudge. Morris shot a curious glance at his brother, who looked murderous. Oscar was glaring at Jack, fist clenched at his side. All he'd wanted to do was talk to a girl, but no, things couldn't be that simple, not for one of the Delancey brothers, not with a reputation like theirs.

"Shut up, Kelly," he grumbled, preparing for what would come next. Someday, maybe not today, but someday he'd soak Jack Kelly once and for all, and restore his reputation.

A/N: Review and what not, let me know what you think. :)