Chapter Text
The drive back to Medda’s is short and quiet, because what else is there to say? Race is leaving, again, and Spot’s staying, again and maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to be. Spot leaves his truck idling on the street and walks him to the door, still holding him close. Race pulls Spot into a tight, lingering hug, letting one hand slip into Spot’s silky hair and he has to pull away, because he doesn’t want to cry again. So he gently cups Spot’s face, and he closes his eyes because he knows he’s not strong enough to look, and kisses him softly, one last time. He keeps them closed when he pulls away and turns to open the door, his voice quiet.
“Bye, Spotty.”
“G’night, Racer.”
Race tries not to linger on the fact that Spot didn’t say goodbye as he takes in the scene in the living room. It’s empty of people, but it’s got that distinctive, buzzing energy that a party leaves behind, not to mention the scattered beer bottles and paper plates. The twins are with a sitter for the night, so Jojo and Mush are sleeping in their room so Jack and Katherine don’t have to drive back to the city. But the couch is empty, and Race can’t even bring himself to change out of his party clothes as he shrugs out of his coat and makes a beeline for the couch. He forces himself not to watch out the bay window as Spot drives away and he curls onto his side, digging his phone out of his pocket and tossing it onto the coffee table.
He should’ve packed, should’ve set his alarms already and arranged a cab, or maybe even rented a car. But he’s been in denial ever since he got here, ever since he started his day with a hug from his mom and a coffee from Spot. So his bag is half-packed and he’s pretty sure he’s never getting his sweater back from Jojo or his lace-up leather pants from Mush—which is fine, really—and he lets out a frustrated little groan as he rolls onto his back. It’s late, even if he didn’t have to be up in a few hours, but sleep is just about the furthest thing from his mind. He stares at the ceiling, not really seeing it as his mind starts to wander. He’s always thought it was brave, what he did, leaving home, leaving his support system. And he’s proud of what he’s accomplished, he’d never deny that. But he also can’t deny that a small part of him was always disappointed in Spot for staying; he can’t deny that he felt like it was a little cowardly.
But now, now he thinks he may have had it backwards. Maybe Spot’s been the brave one all along. After all, doesn’t it take something special, a certain type of courage to be content? To take the job that isn’t your dream but pays the bills, to dedicate your time to a kid that’s not yours, not family at all but needs you anyway; to keep your passions and talents to yourself and not share them with the world, and be happy about it? What is that, if not courageous? No, he’s sure now that Spot’s never been anything close to a coward; Race only wished he was, so he didn’t have to feel like one, himself. With a great sigh he turns onto his side again and, knowing sleep won’t come, reaches for his phone.
It’s still dark when Race startles awake, only just now realizing that he drifted off, after all. The room spins, the way it does when your nap is interrupted halfway through, and he frowns at his phone. If it wasn’t his alarm that woke him, then what–
Tap, tap.
Race’s head whips around toward the window and he gasps, trying to force his brain to process what he’s seeing.
“Spot?” Race’s voice is a whisper—not like it matters, considering Spot’s on the other side of the glass, but it’s definitely him and he visibly brightens when Race sees him. He jerks his head toward the front door and Race scrambles to his feet, crossing the living room in a few strides and opening the door as quietly as he can manage. Spot steps gratefully inside, and Race feels a stab of guilt as he wonders how long he’s been out there, because his cheeks are rosy and the tip of his nose is pink and it just might top that list of adorable things. “Spotty, what–”
“Listen, I’ve been thinking–”
“Have you even been to bed? What the–” Race reaches for him automatically, and Spot grabs his hands and holds them still.
“Racer, listen,” His voice is quiet but urgent and Race shuts his mouth. Spot waits one more second before he seems to decide Race won’t interrupt. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier tonight—last night, whatever, you know what I mean. About how I always supported you, never tried to change your mind about leaving? You need to know that I did that because I believed in you, Tony, because I would watch you dance and watch you act and sing and I knew it would be selfish to ask you to stay, to ask you not to share those gifts. I knew there was a place in that world, just waiting for you.” He pauses to take a breath and Race gapes, dumbfounded. “And I knew how badly you wanted to get out and get away from New York… that you wouldn’t have been happy with a small town life, even with me,” Race opens his mouth to argue but Spot shakes his head. “That even though you loved me—and I know you did, I knew it then, too, I never doubted that—if you stayed, you’d eventually resent me and I… I couldn’t have handled that, Racer. I wasn’t gonna put you–put us in that position. So I didn’t say anything.”
“Spot–”
“But maybe I should have,” Spot goes on as though Race didn’t speak at all, and Race thinks he might have heard a floorboard creak over his head, but Spot’s still talking and he doesn’t want to miss a word. “Maybe I should have said something, maybe I should’ve offered to go with you or, hell, I could’ve at least asked, right? Even just once. But I didn’t and I’m so sorry, Racer. I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” Race’s voice wavers and his heart is absolutely aching, watching Spot be so vulnerable, so open. He’s not sure he’s heard him speak this much at one time since… well, ever.
“How much you needed me,” Spot answers, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and God, maybe it is. Race bites at the inside of his lip but it doesn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears again, anyway. “And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realize it but I can’t let you leave without telling you.” And Spot leaves it open, gives him a chance to ask.
“Telling me what, Spotty?”
Spot just looks at him for a moment, then he lifts a hand and cups Race’s jaw. “That I need you, too.”
Need. He said need, as in present tense. Spot needs him. He’s here and the sun isn’t even up and he’s spilling his guts and Spot needs him the way he needs Spot. His voice comes out as a little squeak.
“You do?”
Spot smiles now, brushing his thumb over Race’s cheekbone. “God, you’re cute. But yeah, I do. Always have, still do. So just… I know you’re leavin' and that’s fine, I won’t ask you to stay–”
“Sean–”
“But if I know you like I think I do, you don’t want me to. So instead, let me ask… if I can come with you.”
Somehow, those words hit harder than anything else Spot’s said and Race is stunned. Spot’s still holding his face, still standing in front of him at the bottom of the stairs and all Race can do is lean in and kiss him. He distantly registers a quiet gasp from the top of the stairs, and frantic shushing but really, it’s lost to the rushing in his ears as Spot makes a surprised sound against his lips and kisses him back. As amazing as it feels, Race pulls back before either of them are ready, because he’s got things to say, too.
“Ton–”
“I canceled my flight.”
“You what–”
“I’m staying, Spotty,” Race is beaming, Spot’s face still only inches from his and it’s so satisfying to watch his eyes widen in shock. “At least for a while.”
“What–what changed your mind?” Spot asks, and he sounds a little breathless. Race shrugs.
“Oh, you know, the typical hometown obligations. I’ve got some free time, there’s a wedding to plan, I’ve got a few new siblings I wanna get to know,” He pauses there, grinning when he hears a barely-muffled squeak from upstairs. “Thought maybe I’d audition for a Broadway show, or two…” He trails off and Spot lifts an eyebrow. Race giggles. “Okay, and maybe there’s a guy,”
“Just a guy, huh?”
“Mmhmm,” Race grins, nodding. “A pretty incredible guy I’d have to be insane to leave again.”
“Hmm, well, that’s convenient,” Spot says thoughtfully. Race cocks his head.
“Why’s that?”
“‘Cause I’m almost positive your LA friends wouldn’t like me,”
Race laughs. “Spot, my LA friends don’t even like me.”
“They’re idiots, then.” Spot murmurs, snaking an arm around Race’s waist to pull him close.
“That’s true,” Race concedes. “But I don’t care.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, ‘cause you like me,”
“That’s one way to put it,”
“How would you put it, then?”
“Oh, I dunno, Racer,” Spot sighs, rolling his eyes indulgently. “Maybe you weren’t listening—which, honestly, wouldn’t be that surprising—but I’d say it sounds more like I love you.”
Race wants to tease him, wants to come up with something silly but he can’t, can’t stop the smile from spreading. And it’s not the back-pocket smile—it’s much too wide, the photographer would tell him to pull back, but he can’t and he doesn’t want to. So he keeps smiling as he hooks his arms around Spot’s neck.
“Convenient,” He says softly, with enough of a pause that Spot’s eyebrow starts to go up again. “‘Cause I love you, too.”
Spot lets out a sigh that sounds relieved, and Race doesn't even have time to wonder how Spot thought he'd say anything else before they're kissing again. And it feels just like it should, warm and safe and comfortable even as it makes his knees weak. Race can't help but smile into the kiss when he hears the hushed whispers floating down the stairs.
“Jojo shh, you're gonna wake Mama–”
“God, Smalls, I'm sorry that I have feelings–”
“Oh my God–”
“How are you not crying?!”
Race holds it together until Spot pulls back, and then he drops his head onto Spot’s shoulder and dissolves into quiet giggles. He looks over his shoulder and waves at Jojo, Smalls, and Mush where they huddle together at the top of the stairs. They wave sheepishly back and Jojo claps his hand over his mouth to stifle another squeak. Race puts a finger to his lips and they start to get up and they look like they might get away with it when–
“Wait!” Mush gasps, disappearing from view only to return seconds later. He tiptoes down the stairs as quickly as he can manage, stopping on the third step from the bottom and extending his arm over their heads. “There, now it’s perfect.”
Race frowns, squinting up in the darkness—and laughs outright.
“Mistletoe, seriously?” Spot deadpans and Race just laughs more as he looks back at him. Spot shrugs, smiling that little half smile Race loves so much. “‘Tis the season, I guess.”
Race grins, shaking his head as he lets his eyes drop to Spot’s lips again.
“‘Tis the damn season, Spotty.”