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"You're so fuckin' Manhattan Kelly!"
Race finally got up after that, ready to beat Jack Kelly over the head with a pipe. He'd been trying to go to sleep for about an hour, which for some reason was too much to ask for in his own fucking apartment. Jack had come over with Spot earlier, something about how he left something here, which was a flat out lie but Race had been too tired to care. Had been was sort of the key phrase there because after he left them to go to sleep, because he had a job that he had to go to in the morning, they had gotten into some liquor and were drunk yelling in his goddamn kitchen at midnight.
"Would you two please shut the fuck up," Race snapped, walking up to the pair and grabbing the bottle of Scotch from Spot's hand, "I'm cutting you off, go to sleep or leave, I swear to god-"
"Jesus Race," Jack laughed, looking suspiciously sober, "Calm down."
Race just groaned because God if Jack was sober, which didn't make sense but he didn't care enough to wonder why, that meant Spot had drank all of this by himself. That of course meant that the king of goddamn Brooklyn, who was halfheartedly reaching for the bottle again, was wasted on his kitchen floor on a fucking Tuesday night. Whatever he had done to piss off the man upstairs he had no idea but he was definitely paying for something right now.
"Jack I have work in the morn- wait where are you going?" Race stuttered because now Jack was putting his jacket back on and he didn't look particularly inclined to take Spot with him.
"I'm goin' to Davey's place."
"At midnight," Race deadpanned, there was no way Jack was getting to go screw his boyfriend while he was left here to deal with Spot.
"Love knows no bounds my friend," Jack quipped, winking at Race before darting out, narrowly missing Race himself who had lunged at the door after him. Turning slowly on his heel Race sighed, sliding down the door until he was sitting, placing his head in his hands and growling because there was no way he was getting any fucking sleep now. That become even more obvious when Spot, surprisingly quick even though he was wasted, made another grab for the bottle at Race's side, managing to gulp down another mouthful before Race got it back.
"Spot Conlon I swear to God," Race snapped, smacking Spot's head and getting up to put the whiskey back, on a shelf high enough that he was pretty confident Spot couldn't reach in his current state. He turned back and really felt like punching Jack goddamn Kelly because Spot was struggling to stand and knocking basically everything off his coffee table in the process.
"Racey can ya help mee?" Spot slurred, finally sitting down and laying on his back, it would have been funny and Race totally would have made fun of him normally, but he actually couldn't reiterate how tired he was right now. So, he dragged his feet over to Spot and tried to pick him up by his arms, but he basically went limp whenever that happened so Race swallowed his pride and picked Spot up bridal style.
"Aw Race do you gotta crush on me or somethin?" Spot said, bursting into laughter at his own joke while Race rolled his eyes, blushing a bit as he walked over to his couch. It was true that he could have thrown Race down a bit lighter but he couldn't care less right now.
"Go ta bed Spot," Race grumbled, starting to walk back toward his room, trying to figure out how many hours of sleep he could get if he passed out right now, when he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt. He fell roughly onto the couch, directly on top of Spot, and felt the much stronger boy pull him closer, like he was clutching a blanket and not a human being. Race tried to speak but just got a mouthful full of shirt and a laugh from Spot above him, clearly enjoying it as Race tried to get upright.
"You're so cute when you're mad," he giggled, actually giggling, when Race finally managed to get on his side, he was pressed between Spot and the back of the couch and spit out a series of curses that even Spot hadn't heard before, which only made him laugh harder.
"Fuck you Conlon," Race spit, half because he was annoyed and half because he was really close to Spot right now and could feel the blood rushing to his face and well, other areas too and this was so not the time for his body to betray him. It really didn't help that Spot started playing with his hair, clearly not about to let Race go to bed, as he let out a whine and started actually scratching at his head? Which to be honest Race had never really considered a turn on but now he was definitely reconsidering.
Spot yawned a bit turning on his side suddenly so he was nose to nose with Race. "Anyone eva' tell you you're real warm Racer, like a goddamn heating pad." With that Spot pulled Race even closer, his face was completely pushed up against in Spot's neck now and he really couldn't breath properly or respond because, fuck Spot might be small but he was damn strong.
"I c'nt br'th," Race mumbled, squirming a bit as Spot pushed him back, letting him breath and ducking his own head down into the couch cushions. Race caught himself grinning because Spot had went from a hard-ass Brooklyn newsie to a fuckin' softie in an hour and it was so much easier to be attracted to someone when they were wasted and giggling on your living room couch.
"S-orry," Spot said, looking up and playing with Race's sleeve absentmindedly.
"Do ya wanna go ta bed Spotty?" Race asked carefully, noticing Spot's head lolling forward a bit. He nodded, letting out a whine when Race struggled to get up off the couch, grabbing at his shirt again. "I'm just goin' to get you a blanket and some clothes, I'll be right back," Race said, surprisingly calmer now, it probably helped that he was sort of turned on and alone with a guy in his apartment, but he would take what he could get.
He grabbed an extra blanket and pillow from his closet, getting an old pair of pajamas and starting back for the couch when he ran right into Spot, who was leaning rather precariously on the door frame.
"Christ Spot, I was just comin' back," Race breathed, startled, even more so when Spot yawned and pushed past him, flopping on his bed face first, letting out a contented sigh. Race let out a groan, moving to sit next to Spot and shaking his shoulder, "You gotta get on the couch, there's not enough room on the bed." He was lying of course, he had more than enough room for the both of them, but he didn't quite trust Spot or himself right now.
"No," Spot said, muffled but pretty forceful. He rolled over onto his back and looked lazily up at Race, "I wanna sleep in heree, it's too cold out theree."
Race opened his mouth to argue but stopped, Spot had already crawled over to one side of the bed and was playing with his covers, clumsily grabbing at them and yawning.
"Fine, but change out of those clothes, you smell gross and I'm not sleeping next ta that," Race growled, throwing his pajamas at Spot, hitting him in the face in the process, and collapsing onto the bed himself. Shutting his eyes he tried not to think about Spot getting undressed next to him, which proved futile because after a minute or so Spot laid unceremoniously on top of Race's chest, shirtless and tone as fuck.
"I thought you were cold."
"You're warm," Spot replied, turning his head to meet Race's eyes, which must have given him away because Spot broke into a grin, one notorious for leading to trouble if the past was anything to go by.
Race pushed at Spot's head, trying his best to have some self control because nothing was going to happen, even if he wanted it to, because Spot was drunk and he actually didn't know if he liked guys. God knows if he made a pass at a wasted king of Brooklyn would end up with him floating face down in the East River.
He had just started compiling a mental list of all the different ways he could be murdered by tomorrow when Spot interrupted his train of thought.
"What was your first kiss like Racer?"
Race froze, looking down to see Spot looking at him, eyes half filled with amusement and something else that he couldn't really identify. "Uh it really wasn't tha-" Race started, really wishing that he could smother himself with a pillow right now because Spot had to know, that's the only reason he would be asking right now. The only other people that knew was motherfucking Jack Kelly who was already dead and buried in an unmarked grave in Race's mind.
"Ya never been kissed have ya?" Spot asked, smirking, moving suddenly so that he had Race more or less clumsily pinned underneath him. His eyes, while lazily focused because of the alcohol, looked curiously at him.
"Why does it matter?" Race snapped, thanking God that he shut off the light so Spot couldn't see the growing blush that was spreading down his neck. More than anything he wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep because this was such a bad idea and Spot's skin was actually really soft on top of his right now and it was wreaking havoc on his insides.
"Cause it does, ya can't waste somethin' like that, s' important," Spot leaned down a fraction of an inch then, close enough that Race became suddenly aware that his eyelashes were longer than he thought could be possible on a guy.
"I guess," Race stammered, "I mean it depen-" he found himself abruptly cut off, Spot's lips were on his and he had no idea what to do but god this felt so fucking good. He also had no frame of reference but Spot knew goddamn well what he was doing, not seeming to mind that Race didn't, just kissing and moving against him and breathing him in and fuck if he was dead tomorrow he wouldn't even care.
Spot pulled back then, Race honestly hadn't the slightest idea how long they had been kissing, time wasn't real right now as far as he was concerned. From Spot's bemused expression he must have looked pretty damn happy, he felt like his face might split from smiling so much.
"God you're so adorable," Spot breathed, pulling himself off of Race with visible reluctance, curling up against Race's side immediately.
"I-I didn't even know you were..." Race trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence for fear of being wrong, this could be a one time thing as far as he knew. Tomorrow he might wake up and Spot would walk out of here like nothing had happened, that thought really killed him.
"Gay," Spot finished, smirking a bit, "Yeah I keep it pretty quiet, not good for my rep y'know? Only you and Jack know."
"Goddamn Jack," Race laughed, incredulous as he realized what Jack had done, that fucker. He turned on his side, nose to nose with Spot again, "We should do this again, y'know, when I don't have to be at work in... four hours," Race groaned, letting out a small sigh.
"I'll find my way back here, Manhattan," Spot yawned, shutting his eyes and whispering, "G'night Racer."
Race wished they could talk more, do some other things too, but the whiskey was taking its toll on Spot and he really did have to be at work in four hours. So, he shut his own eyes, pulling the covers over himself and murmuring, "G'night Spotty."
He fell asleep with Spot's chest pressed against his own, his face buried in the crook of Spot's neck, letting the body heat transfer between them and lull him to sleep.
Jack smirked at Race the next day, tracking him down after work, practically radiating smugness while Race glared at him.
"You're such a fucker Kelly you know that?" he grumbled, not able to keep eye contact because he was pretty sure he looked about as red as a goddamn tomato right now.
"Don't worry 'bout it Race, you owe me one."