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“You know what, fuck you.”
Spot laughed bitterly at Race’s lackluster comeback, a short, hard sound with no mirth held within it. His eyes were hard as flint as he glared up at the other man.
His boyfriend was an asshole.
Spot leaned forward, distributing his weight to the balls of his feet to make himself taller, getting right up in Race’s face.
“I’m not the one letting random guys hit on me right in front of my boyfriend.”
Race sputtered helplessly, hands gesticulating wildly as he tried to speak.
“Letting— Spot what the fuck? I’m not letting random guys hit on me! I didn’t ask that guy to approach me, and once I realized, I tried to make it obvious I was with you. But you weren’t there, you were at the bar, and I couldn’t just tell him to fuck off! Did you see how big he was?”
Spot rolled his eyes, ignoring most of what Race had just said. He’d already heard it anyway, and he didn’t believe it.
“Yeah, Race, I saw him. I saw him and you, together, and you didn’t look like you were trying that damn hard to make him stop until I came back.”
Race threw his hands up, annoyance scrawled across his face. “You know what, no. Nope. I’m not having this conversation with you, not again. If you want to believe that I’m lying, that I let that guy hit on me, go ahead. Do whatever the hell you want, Spot, but I’m not going to deal with your stupid jealousy and— and irrationality!”
Alarm bells went off in Spot’s mind, an internal dialogue consisting mainly of, wait, shit, don’t leave, filling his thoughts, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood dumbly, shocked into silence as Race grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter and stormed out the door.
Spot stood there for another minute, rooted in place, before finally moving to the couch and sinking down into the plush fabric.
The room spun around him, muted blue walls bleeding into mahogany hardwood floors and end tables. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, balling his fists up and pressing them against his temples. His head ached and his jaw ached and Race had just left, and Jesus Christ he needed a cigarette.
Finally, Spot pulled his hands away, head jerking up as he slammed one hand into the couch cushion.
“Goddamn it!”
He panted for breath, emotion flooding over him. Drawing back his fist, he hit the couch again, but weakly this time, with no force behind the blow. His shoulders shook with each exhale, his eyes burning as he refused to let himself cry. He had done this to himself. It was his fault.
Spot waited. And waited. And waited, an apology on his lips if only Race would come back to hear it. But he didn’t. His boyfriend stubbornly stayed away, and at first, Spot didn’t blame him. He was still angry, sure. He still didn’t believe everything Race had said, and he was still jealous. But his approach had been wrong, and he had allowed his anger to cloud his judgment.
Spot didn’t blame Race, at first. The longer he stayed away however, afternoon stretching into evening which soon turned to night, the more time Spot had to dwell on the fight, to grow bitter over it.
By the time Race finally arrived home, stealing in through the front door with a quiet jangle of keys and light step, Spot was once again embroiled in a slew of emotions. This time however, he was determined to hold his tongue. He wasn’t going to say anything at all to Race. He would be cordial, speaking no more than necessary, and soon his boyfriend would regret the fight. Spot had a plan.
The next day, both men woke up in separate rooms for the first time in a long time. Spot had taken the couch, allowing Race the far more comfortable bed despite his frustration with his boyfriend. He had not slept well, his mind replaying the previous night’s events and mulling over his plans for today.
The two of them were supposed to meet Jack and Davey at Jack’s apartment today, along with some of their other friends, and neither man was going to cancel, even if they were fighting. It was a matter of pride at this point, so they’d suck it up and get along if it killed them. Of course, Spot knew the other guys would notice something was off, but their friends were pretty good about not pressing for information when they could tell their questions were unwanted.
Spot got up from the couch slowly, stretching out his cramped limbs and shaking out his wrists to let the blood flow to his hands. He sighed, shuffling into the kitchen as if in a daze, his feet sliding across the tiled floor. Stopping once he reached the Keurig, he mechanically pressed the buttons, inserting a dark roast cup and blindly groping around in the cupboard for a mug, placing it under the machine once he found it. As the dark liquid streamed out, he ripped open a packet of sweetener, upending the contents over the steaming cup.
Finally, Spot took his coffee and settled down at the kitchen table, slumping into a chair with his head resting on his arm. He lifted his head to take a large gulp, relishing the bitter caffeine as the heat warmed his entire body.
By the time their bedroom door opened, Spot had already finished a second cup, and was buttering a piece of toast. He barely looked up when Race entered the room, looking just as tired as him with dark bags creasing under his eyes.
Neither man made any attempt at conversation, standing in an oddly stilted silence as Race made himself coffee and fussed around in the fridge. As soon as Spot finished his breakfast, he turned to the bedroom, leaving Race behind.
Spot ran over his plan for the day as he showered, brushed his teeth, and dressed. Race had gotten under his skin, had made him jealous, and now Spot was determined to do the same to Race. Just for once, he deserved a taste of his own medicine.
He gave himself a final cursory once-over in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair and then flicking off the light, stepping through the open bathroom door.
The thick carpet bunched around his feet as he moved over to the dresser, snagging a pair of socks before grabbing a pair of semi-nice shoes he’d thrown haphazardly by the closet yesterday. He pulled them on quickly, standing up as soon as he was done.
Only now did he think to wonder what was taking Race so long. They had to leave in five minutes, and he hadn’t seen his boyfriend once. Maybe he was trying to give him space?
He sighed and smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on the bedcover before walking back into the kitchen, dreading whatever interaction was coming. The hours of silence felt like the calm before the storm, and all Spot wanted to do was get to Jack’s apartment without conflict, keeping enough distance between him and Race to easily put his plan into action.
To his surprise, Race was sitting at the kitchen counter, already dressed and seemingly ready to go. He must have gotten ready during the ten minutes Spot had been in the shower, and just skipped his own shower.
The other man looked up when Spot came in, but didn’t say anything, thought he looked like he wanted to.
Spot cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”
Race glanced up again, meeting Spot’s eyes for only a moment before letting them flit across the room. Spot followed the movements, confused, until Race stopped and got up, crossing the room to retrieve his car keys.
He held them up, the cool metal glinting under the artificial lighting.
“Yep.”
Spot simply nodded in response, turning on his heel to walk out the door. He could hear Race’s footsteps following close behind him, but he didn’t look back.
They made it to the car in silence, and Spot slid inside, gazing out the window as Race started the engine. The other man reversed out of the parking spot, swinging a wide left to turn onto the main road. After a moment of uncomfortable quiet, Race coughed slightly, fiddling with the radio until it came to a station he liked, the unfamiliar sound of some unknown band filling the stale air. Spot felt rather than saw his eyes on him, but he ignored it. Finally, Race’s eyes shifted back to the road, and he didn’t look up again. Spot relaxed. Only ten minutes of driving, and they would arrive at Jack’s. Hopefully Race would stay quiet until then.
Luck seemed to work in Spot’s favor, or maybe Race just recognized his need for silence, because the only sound Spot heard until they got to Jack’s was the scratchy timbre of Frank Sinatra broadcasted over the radio. He practically breathed a sigh of relief when Race pulled into a parking spot, killing the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt. Spot did the same, quickly jumping out of the car and not bothering to wait for his partner. Race was only a few steps behind, catching up to him at the elevator.
Spot could feel the tension filling the air, but still neither man said a word as the doors slid open and then shut again, the polished metal cage transporting them to the tenth floor where they found themselves in front of Room 1012, Jack’s apartment.
After a quick knock on the door, he calmed his nerves and let himself and Race in, the door swinging open to reveal a chaotic scene. The apartment was filled with laughing, chattering individuals, all of their friends gathered to enjoy a night in.
Looking inside at the happy, joyful tableau, Spot almost regretted his plan. Almost. A little voice in the back of his head was questioning, wondering if Race was really the one in the wrong, but Spot pushed this voice aside, steeling himself for what was sure to be an interesting night.
A few drinks later, he and Race were still ignoring each other. Spot, and probably Race as well, had been on the receiving end of quite a few curious looks, but just as he’d thought, their friends didn’t push. Feeling pleasantly buzzed and allowing the drinks to influence him, he slowly maneuvered over to stand by Davey, noticing that both Jack and Race were positioned close by.
Putting his lips close to the other boy’s ear, he whispered lowly, “Hey.”
Davey jumped slightly, twisting in his chair to face Spot.
“Oh, uh, hey Spot. Hey,” he breathed out nervously.
Spot smirked, noticing how Race had turned his head just a bit toward the pair, eyes still fixed on the football game playing across the television, but obviously aware of Spot’s actions.
He let a hand rest on Davey’s forearm, feeling the warm skin beneath his own. Davey’s eyes widened at the contact, but he didn’t make a move to stop Spot, just glanced nervously over at Race and then back at Spot.
“Davey, I was just thinking about how we don’t actually know each other all that well. I mean sure, I know you’re one of Jack’s best friends and we all went to college together, but I can’t remember ever having a one-on-one chat with you.“
The dark haired boy’s throat bobbed as he stuttered out, “Uh, yeah, I think you’re right, I don’t— I don’t remember ever doing that.”
Spot felt a smile stretch across his face, and something churned in his gut, reviled at the idea of insinuating something with someone who wasn’t Race. It was a bad feeling, but he ignored it.
“Well I figured it’s about time we got to know each other a little better, don’t you think?”
He slid his hand a little further up Davey’s arm, noticing out of the corner of his eye how Race had turned fully toward them now, eyes narrowed and fist clenched tightly.
Spot was practically grinning now, because it was working goddammit! Just a little more and he was sure Race wouldn’t be able to resist.
Davey’s breath came out a little too quickly, his words catching on his tongue.
“I, uh, I—“
Spot wet his lips slightly, knowing it would drive Race crazy, and said coaxingly, “Aw, c’mon Davey, indulge me. We could go somewhere a little more private, to... talk?”
Before either he or Davey could say another word, Spot registered movement in his peripheral vision, Race moving fluidly up and out of his chair and storming over to the pair. He barely had time to relish in his victory when Race‘s hand encircled his wrist, muttering, “Excuse me,” in a constrained voice to a very pale and confused Davey and pulling Spot over to the empty hallway.
Quick as a flash, Race yanked the two of them inside the first open room, sweeping the door shut behind them and slamming Spot up against the polished surface. As his back hit the cold wood, Spot could only think, Finally , before his boyfriend captured his lips in an aggressive kiss.
He groaned, melting into the rough embrace. It was a battle of teeth and tongue and lips, each man trying to assert his own dominance. Race’s hands fisted in his shirt, crumpling the smooth fabric even as his own hands wove through the blonde headed boy’s hair, tugging and grasping at the curly strands. Spot nipped at Race’s upper lip, jerking as the other boy responded by pressing himself flush against Spot and grinding his hips against him. Fuck, that felt good. God, he’d missed this, and it had only been a day. It always felt like so much longer when they were fighting.
Finally, both men drew back, still in close proximity as they panted heavily, refusing to let go of each other.
Race was the first to speak, still slightly out of breath as he formed the words.
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jealous or make you think I was letting anyone come onto me. You were— well, you weren’t exactly right, because I didn’t want that guy to flirt with me, but I can’t say I didn’t appreciate the attention a little. But I wasn’t trying to flirt back at all, I swear. It was just nice to be noticed by someone else. But I really, really don’t want anyone else, Spot. I just want you.”
Spot could see the truth of Race’s statement reflected back at him in his eyes, and he sighed.
“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry too. I majorly overreacted, and I got really jealous. Like, really freaking jealous and that wasn’t fair. So I’m sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a bit sheepish. “And, uh, I’m sorry about just now too? For, uh, flirting with Davey? I was just so upset with you and I thought if you knew what I felt like, then—“
Race curled his fingers into the fabric of Spot’s shirt, jerking him forward and pressing his lips against Spot’s, effectively cutting him off. Spot relaxed, knowing that Race had forgiven him. They were okay. Maybe they didn’t have the best response to their fight, but they’d sorted it out, and it was okay.
When they broke their embrace for a second time, Race smiled tentatively down at Spot, who smirked in return, linking their hands.
“You ready to go back?”
Race contemplated this for a moment, then nodded.
“Yeah, but do we have to stay any longer? I mean, neither of us wanted to be here in the first place, and now I definitely just want to take you home and—“
Spot laughed, squeezing Race’s hand as he leaned up to peck him on the lips.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s just say a few goodbyes and we can get the hell out of here.”
As they opened the door to rejoin the party, Spot quirked an eyebrow at Race.
“You know, it’s pretty hot when you get jealous.”
His boyfriend blushed red, rolling his eyes.
“Shut upppppp.”
Shutting the door behind them — and not making out against it this time — they made their way back into the main room, where everyone was still obliviously situated around the coffee table and kitchen counters.
Everyone except Jack and Davey, however, who were in a very similar situation as Spot and Race had been no less than five minutes ago. Spot felt his mouth drop open at the sight of Jack pinning the taller boy against the refrigerator door, hands fisted in his hair and mouth moving aggressively against his partner’s, who looked to be giving back just as much as he was receiving.
Beside him, Race started laughing.
“Oh my god,” he managed to choke out. “Oh my god, Spot! You— Davey— You made Jack so jealous he finally made a move on Davey!”
Still staring in disbelief at his friends, Spot rolled his eyes, hitting Race lightly on his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he grumbled. “So I’m guessing we don’t need to say goodbye to them now? I mean, it would be rude to interrupt, don’t you think?”
Race’s face split into a wide grin, and Spot was reminded just how much he loved his boy.
“I like the way you think, Conlon,” he smirked.
Race grabbed his hand and, waving a final goodbye to their friends, only half of who even noticed, they skipped out of the apartment and contentedly drove home together, this time not in silence.
Three days later, Spot received a call from Jack.
“Hey Jacky, what’s up?”
On the other end of the line, his brother’s voice was loud and excited, his words coming out in short bursts.
“Spot! Spot, everyone else kind of already knows because of the party but I didn’t know if you saw, but Spot, Davey and I are together! We’re dating!”
Spot chuckled, amused at his eagerness, and the fact he had waited three days after the party to tell him. Beside him on the couch, Race looked up in interest, and Spot turned the speakerphone on so he could hear as well.
“Yeah man, I know, don’t worry. I saw you guys at the party.”
Jack paused.
“Oh. Oh, okay! Well, I was wondering, I mean I know we’ve been friends forever but dating is different and I just thought that you and Race have been together to so long and—“
Spot interrupted him impatiently, sharing a look with Race.
“Jack what are you asking?”
Another pause.
“Weeeeell, I was thinking maybe you guys could go on a double date with us?”
Spot groaned and Jack rushed to finish talking.
“C’mon Spot, I swear it won’t be bad, it’ll be just like we’re all hanging out! I just don’t want things to be awkward and if you’re there, well....”
Spot opened his mouth to answer but Race beat him to it, grabbing the phone from his hand.
“Hey Jack! I’m really glad for you and Davey man, and don’t worry, Spot and I will go on a date with you okay? What time were you thinking?”
As Jack profusely thanked Race and began to rattle off details, Spot glared at his boyfriend, who just shrugged, looking smug. He continued to glower at him as Race agreed they would go out that very night, to an Italian restaurant Davey was particularly fond of.
As he hung up the phone, Race remarked, “You know, if they wanted Italian food I could’ve just cooked. Nothing beats homemade.”
Spot stared at him incredulously. Really? His boyfriend had just signed the two of them up for what was sure to be the most awkward date in all of history, and he was making jokes about Italian food?
Race sighed. “C’mon tesoro , don’t give me that. Don’t you want to help out your baby brother? Make sure he scores on his date?”
Spot’s face twisted up in an expression of disgust.
“Okay first of all, he’s not my baby brother, he’s my foster brother and I’m only a few months older than him. And second of all, gross, Racetrack! No, I do not want to help Jack score, especially not with Davey. Gross, gross, gross, I don’t even want to think about that.”
Race rolled his eyes.
“Oh my goddd, Spot, it’s not that bad, I swear. Also I guarantee you’ve helped Jack score dates before.”
“Yeah but not with someone I know! Not with Davey! I didn’t even know Davey could make out with someone, but he already did that at the party! What else does he do that I don’t know about?”
Spot knew his complaints were falling on deaf ears as Race once again sighed, waiting patiently for Spot to finish speaking. Scowling, he closed his lips in a tight line, knowing nothing he could say would matter. As Race began trying to convince him that the date would be fun, would be fine, would be nice, Spot tried to believe him, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding forming in his gut. Everything would be fine.
Everything was not fine.
Spot was reminded of this as he glanced around the table for what felt like the fifteenth time, watching Race sip at his water, Jack wring his hands in his lap, and David slowly tear his napkin into fine, tissue papered shreds.
This was the most awkward date ever, and considering some of his and Race’s dates, that was saying something.
After a moment, he sighed. It was basically his fault they were in this situation to begin with, never mind that Race was the one who agreed to go. He had to at least try to make this better, for Jack’s sake at the very least.
“So, uh— how did you guys get together?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced. They had gotten together because he was flirting with Davey, because he was trying to make Race jealous. He definitely did not need to bring up that topic again.
Race jerked his head up, looking surprised and a bit amused. Next to him, Davey rubbed the back of his neck, and across the table, Jack bounced excitedly in his seat.
“Well,” he said, drawing out the word, “I saw you guys talking at the party, and I was just thinking about how much I liked Davey, and I knew you weren’t gonna do anything because you’re with Race of course, but still, I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to tell Davey that I liked him. And then you left with Race and Davey was standing all alone, and he looked at me, and I don’t know, I just started to think maybe I had a chance? Like maybe if I told him he would feel the same? So I went over and I took his hand and, well, you know.”
Race looked even more amused than before, eyebrows quirking up and mouth curving into a slow smile.
“Actually, I don’t know, we were in the other room. Davey, want to finish the story?”
Davey grimaced slightly, his face softening when Jack reached over and squeezed his hand, looking at him from across the small diner table with adoring eyes.
He blushed, then stammered out, “Well, Jack approached me and he, he took my hand, and I was surprised so I asked him what he was doing, and then he said- well, it sounds cliche, but he said to trust him. And then he leaned in and kissed me.”
Race was silent for a moment, evidently waiting to see if Davey was going to continue. When he didn’t, his boyfriend’s face broke into a sincere smile.
“That’s really nice, Davey. And Jack, you too. I’m really happy for you, honestly.”
The two men smiled, Jack still holding Davey’s hand across the table.
As the table finally dissolved into pleasant chatter, the uncomfortable atmosphere dissipating with every word, Spot leaned into his seat back, suddenly glad he had come. He was glad Race had coaxed him into joining the date, and even more glad that their stupid, insignificant fight had caused the other men to finally figure their shit out and get together.
Turning to Race, he silently grasped his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing lightly, smiling up at his boyfriend when he glanced at him. He looked beautiful, eyes shining and face slightly flushed from the warm room and the speed at which he was talking. Feeling Race’s hand in his, and looking at Jack and Davey together, Spot couldn’t help but grin, once again. He was very glad he had come.