Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day Sean Conlon came to live with her was a day Miss Medda Larkin would never forget.

Her other two boys were at school when he got there, thank heavens, because this kid didn’t seem like the kind of person who would appreciate Jack’s questions or Charlie's sympathy. He hadn’t stopped scowling the entire time his social worker had been talking. The plate of freshly baked cookies on the table were left untouched.

“His last home was with a gentleman named Mr. Snyder, who he didn’t get along well with,” Mr. Kloppman explained.

“Care to elaborate?” Medda had heard of Snyder before. She had a hunch it was more than “not getting along”.

“Sean ran away three times under Mr. Snyder’s care. It’s all in his file,” Mr. Kloppman shrugged, putting the folder on the table. “I’ll be back in the next couple weeks to check up on him. Goodbye, Sean.”

Sean snorted, crossing his arms as Medda sat across from him. The door shut and they were left in silence.

“You can take a cookie, if you'd like, Sean.”

He took one, but his voice was rough as he spoke. “Spot.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Spot,” Sean glared, slouching even further in his seat. Medda smiled. He had a thick Brooklyn accent, similar to Jack’s.

“Alright, Spot,” Medda nodded, “You can call me Medda. If you follow me, I can show you to your bedroom.”

He nodded, standing up, swinging his bag onto his back and picking up his cane. With his short stature and babyface, Spot looked much younger than the fifteen years claimed on his file. His bag was small, and looked mostly empty. Medda’s heart twinged. She resisted the urge to wrap him in a hug. It was much too soon for that.

“Do you have any more bags?” she asked him.

Spot shook his head silently as Medda opened the door. 

It was a small, plain room, furnished only with a twin bed and a desk and chair. The walls were painted light green and the closet doors were mirrors. Medda hadn’t had time to clean before Spot arrived, so everything had a thin layer of dust on it, but he hardly seemed to notice.

“We can go out shopping some time next week to get you things to decorate it with,” she assured him, though he didn’t seem to be listening. She smiled before continuing. “I’ll let you get settled, I’m going to go start on dinner.”

Spot nodded, some of the tension from his shoulders releasing. 

Medda smiled. For a “problem child”, he seemed rather harmless. 

Don’t go thinking that, Medda, she scolded herself, he hasn’t even met the other boys yet.

SPOTS POV

Medda left the room, the door closing with a small click. Spot exhaled deeply, sitting on the desk chair. 

This place was different, so far anyway from anywhere else he’d lived before. He didn’t trust it for a second.

He opened his bag, which contained only $67 in cash, a change of clothes, and his phone. He pulled out the phone and sent Race a text.

SPOT: got moved again

There was a brief pause before Race responded.

RACER: where?

SPOT: near the theatre downtown. Some lady named Medda Larkin

RACER: so no poker tonight?

SPOT: i’ll be at poker if I have to jump out the window to get there, don’t you worry

RACER: i love you

SPOT: :D

There was a slam of a door and Spot looked up, cursing under his breath.

SPOT: I have to go, Tonio, see you tonight

RACER: <3

“Spot! Come meet the boys!” Medda’s voice easily carried up the stairs.

It was now or never. Spot pushed himself up, grabbed his cane, and went downstairs.

Chapter Text

Jack couldn’t rightfully say he was all that surprised when his foster mom told him she’d taken in another kid. Medda had always had a big heart and arms big enough for one more.

“How old is he?” he asked her, stealing a piece of carrot she was chopping.

“What’s his name?” Crutchie added, swinging his good leg around, “What’s he like?”

“He’s turning fifteen in a couple weeks and his name is Spot,” Medda raised her voice, “Spot! Come meet the boys!”

Jack sat next to Crutchie and watched as a small Italian boy walked into the kitchen, leaning on a cane.

“Spot, these are my sons, Jack, and Charlie. Boys, this is Spot,” Medda went back to chopping vegetables for the stew.

“Hi,” Crutchie grinned, reaching out to shake Spot’s hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Spot shook it, not meeting his eyes. “Hey.”

“Where you from?” Jack asked.

“Brooklyn.”

“That’s cool. I’m a ‘Hatten kid myself,” Jack nodded, “How you liking it here?”

“I’ve been here for thirty minutes,” Spot glared, “It’s fine.”

“Hey, that’s good,” Crutchie smiled, “We were thinking about going out to watch a movie with our friends later. You’re welcome to join us.”

“No.”

“It might be good for you to make some friends, you know,” Medda told him, standing next to Jack and rubbing his shoulders.

“I got plans already,” Spot snarked.

“Where?” Jack was pressing his buttons. Spot fixed him with his most dangerous scowl. He didn't seem to care, grinning cheekily.

“A friend’s house,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t want them to see them shake.

“Jack, leave the poor kid alone, he just got here, he doesn't wanna answer your questions,” Crutchie teased, smacking Jack’s leg with his crutch.

Medda smiled, shaking her head good-naturedly. “I hope you like soup, Spot. It’s Jack’s favourite.”

Spot looked up, face neutral again. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Mom's a great cook,” Crutchie told him, “Just you wait.”

Spot stared at him for a few moments. “What’re the crutches for?”

“Hey!” Jack started to interrupt, but Crutchie waved him off.

“I got a bad leg,” he explained, “Hurts to walk on, you see? What about you? What’s the cane for?”

Spot’s entire body tensed up. “None of your business.”

“Well, that ain’t fair. I just told you my deal,” the blond boy protested.

“I said ,” Spot growled, “It’s none of your fucking business.”

Right at that moment, Medda put the big pot of soup in the center of the table. Jack pushed himself off the counter to grab the bowls and spoons.

“We take turns doing the dishes,” she told Spot, “We’ll add you onto the list tomorrow.”

He just nodded.

The soup was dished out and Spot sipped at his slowly. It was rich and delicious, better than anything his last home had given him. Medda spoke with the other boys about their days. It was peaceful and put Spot on edge. Surely the other shoe was going to drop soon. He had to leave before that happened.

He got up suddenly, his soup only half finished, and poured the rest into the sink and rinsed the bowl out.

“You aren’t hungry, sugar?” Medda asked.

“No.” Spot glared at the floor. “I gotta get going.”

Medda stared at him. “I’m not supposed to let you go out, but I will, only if you swear you’ll be back by midnight.”

“And what if I’m not?” he challenged.

Medda shrugged. “You won’t be allowed out in the evening anymore.”

As much as Spot wanted to argue, he couldn’t imagine not being allowed to see Race and his other friends, so he just nodded and went upstairs. He grabbed his cash and phone and left, a smile growing on his face for the first time since he’d arrived. 

Chapter Text

Racetrack Higgins was waiting on the porch of his foster house, just like he did every Saturday night. 

“Spotty!” he pulled him into a tight hug, “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago, you dork,” Spot smiled, pressing a kiss to the taller boy’s lips, “But I missed you too.”

“The others are waiting inside,” Race whispered.

“We can keep them waiting, can’t we?” Spot kissed him again, “Don’t you wanna hear about the new house and family?”

Race pouted but nodded. “Is it a bad one?”

Spot shook his head. “No, but it’s...weird. She’s got two sons already, I don’t think they like me.”

“Older?”

“Not by much.”

“Hm,” Race pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a drag and passed it over.

“Thanks.”

They shared the cigarette for a few minutes before Spot finally stood up. They entered the house together, hands intertwined.

The man who owned the house was away on business and left Race and Romeo alone a lot, so their house was the prime spot for their poker nights. 

There were six teenagers sitting around a coffee table.

“Hey, Spot!” Elmer grinned, “How you been?”

“Not bad,” Spot slapped his back, “Hiya, Sniper.”

“Hey.” Sniper had lived with Snyder at the same time at Spot, but she left a month before him. “Race says you finally got away from Snyder?”

“Yeah. Got sick of me, I guess.”

The rest of them grinned. They had all dealt with Snyder at one point or another, but Spot was the one who lasted the longest and more recently.

“Ready to start?” Specs asked, shuffling a deck of cards. Specs wasn’t a fan of gambling, so he acted as their dealer. They all nodded and he began to deal out the cards.

By the sixth game, Smalls was in Sniper’s lap, Elmer and Albert had teamed up, and Race had his head in Spot’s lap.

Spot set down his cards, grinning as he gathered his winnings. Elmer groaned, tapping the table.

“I give in,” he said, stretching, “Y’all wanna come over to my house for a movie?”

“I’m in,” Sniper nodded. 

“Same,” Smalls agreed. Romeo and Specs decided on joining them. Albert was half asleep on Elmer, so the latter decided to take him home too.

Race shook his head. “I’ll stay here tonight, thanks though. What about you, Spot?”

“I better be getting home. I can’t be late on my first night,” he shrugged.

“Here, I’ll walk you home,” he helped his boyfriend up and passed him his cane.

The house was left empty behind them as the two boys began to walk towards Medda’s. Their hands were linked and swinging between them.

“Racer,” Spot said suddenly, “You know I care about you, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Race turned to him, looking concerned, “Why?”

“I need you to let me walk the last block alone,” the shorter boy said, “They don’t know I’m gay and I don’t want them to know yet.”

Race squeezed his hand. “No problem. Text me?”

Spot took his face in his hands and kissed his deeply. They stood in the middle of the sidewalk, kissing and appreciating each other’s presence.

“I love you, Spottie,” Race whispered.

“Get home safe, you dork,” Spot smiled, letting go and tipping his cap.

As he entered the house, the smile that Race always made appear began to fade.

Chapter Text

The house was filled with the sound of loud stomps and the smell of bacon frying. Spot squinted in confusion as he woke up. For a minute, he forgot where he was and looked around. The events of the previous day came rushing back to him. Medda. Jack. Crutchie. Right.

“Hey, Spot! Mom says to wake up!”

“Fuck off!” he called back, voice scratchy. He got up, and changed out of his tank top and into the t-shirt. Damn, he needed to get his sweater back from Race.

He went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. Crutchie appeared in the doorway, a brand new toothbrush in his hand. 

“Mom thought you might like this,” he offered with a lopsided smile.

Spot took it wearily. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. There’s food waiting downstairs, whenever you’re ready,” the other boy said hopping away.

Spot brushed his teeth, wincing at the blood that leaked out from his gums. He combed his fingers through his hair, fixing it to slightly flatter, before taking a big breath and heading downstairs.

“Good morning, Spot! Did you have a good sleep?” Medda asked, setting down a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him. Jack and Crutchie were already eating, eyes sleepy and lidded.

The youngest teen shrugged. “Yeah.”

“That’s good. Eat up, we’ve got a big day of shopping ahead of us!”

“What?” Spot asked, cutting into one of the pancakes and shoving a piece into his mouth. It was amazing. Crutchie hadn’t lied when he said Medda was a good cook.

“You need more than two shirts, plus we can get some things to decorate your room with,” Medda explained, “Crutchie and Jack are coming with us. We can grab lunch at the mall and get to know each other a bit more.”

Spot nodded. He managed to eat two of the pancakes and a piece of bacon before he had to stop. He wasn’t used to eating regularly and he’d rather go live with Snyder again than throw up in front of them already.

Medda was sipping a mug of coffee and reading her newspaper. There was an odd sense of belonging that tapped at Spot’s brain, begging to be let in. He refused. He wouldn’t be here long anyway.

As he sat there tense and ready to run, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Jack volunteered, springing from his seat and rushing to the front door.

“It’s probably Davey,” Crutchie explained, “Jack’s boyfriend.”

Jack had a boyfriend. That meant he was gay, or bi, or pan, or something. Which meant Medda and Crutchie didn’t mind. Maybe they’d be okay with Race.

Don’t even think that, Spot scolded himself, He’s their family. I’m just some poor little punk kid they took in.

Jack returned, a tall boy dressed in-- Spot almost laughed-- a sweater vest.

“Davey, this is my new foster brother, Spot. Spot, this is Davey. My boyfriend,” Jack said.

“Nice to meet you, Spot,” Davey said with a nervous smile.

“Same to you.” Spot got up, putting his plate in the sink. 

“Davey’s coming with us, is that okay, Mom? His parents are fighting again.”

“Of course he’s welcome. Would you like some breakfast, Davey?” Medda offered. 

No one noticed as Spot slipped out of the kitchen. He ran up the stairs, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet.

He stared at himself in a mirror. He looked scared, and swore at himself for it. Spot Conlon didn’t get scared. He didn’t.

He sat in his room for another thirty minutes before Medda called him back down.

“Ready to go?” she asked, smiling kindly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he shrugged. He hoped he was right.

Chapter Text

They walked into the mall and Spot was immediately overwhelmed. It was loud, and bright, and he Did Not Like It.

Davey and Jack held hands as they made their way to the first store. Crutchie hopped next to them, laughing at something one of them had said. 

“What kind of bedding do you want, Spot?” Medda asked, lifting up different options.

“I don’t care,” he shrugged, concentrating on not throwing up.

“Hm. Well, maybe a red-striped one? I noticed you’re shirts seem to have that theme. Would that be okay?” his foster mother offered.

Spot felt warmth flood into his chest. Probably nausea. “Sure.”

Medda tossed a set into the cart, moving to a bin of posters. “Would you like to choose a couple posters for your walls?”

Spot wanted to say yes, but everything was so loud, and bright and just too much. He couldn’t breathe. He ran.

To where, he didn’t know. He found himself in a corner, breathing heavily as he tried to provide his lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. He curled into a ball, shoving his face into the material of his jeans. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

“Spot, can you look at me for a second?” Someone asked. It was too loud. He shook his head.

“Alright, if we sit here for a while, can you calm down?”

“T-too l-loud,” he stuttered.

She hummed. “Can I touch you? I might have something that could help.”

Spot didn’t care how pathetic it was, he needed it to stop. He nodded. 

Something was slipped over his ears, blocking out most of the noise. She began to rub his back but he shook his head.

"D-don't t-touch," he stuttered.

She stopped, but he could feel her sitting next to him. "That's okay, I'll just stay here. As long as you need. Take your time."

Eventually, he was able to look up. Medda sat next to him on the ground. She smiled.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Spot blushed. He was wearing heavy headphones, with no music playing. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have known it would be overwhelming for you. Do you want to leave?”

Spot kinda did, but he shook his head. He couldn't give in. “No, I-I'll be okay. Can I keep the headphones on?”

“Of course. Come on, let’s get back to the other boys.” Medda and him stood up. She led him to where Jack, Crutchie, and Davey were waiting. Wisely, they said nothing about Spot's puffy red eyes and the addition of headphones.

Spot chose two posters, one of a bunch of cats, and one of Green Day. He had many sides to him.

They continued through the store, Medda keeping both eyes on Spot to make sure he wasn’t getting overwhelmed again.

“Are you boys ready for lunch?” Medda asked, as she paid for the things. Spot didn’t respond, still embarrassed about his meltdown.

“I don’t have money, thanks anyway, Miss Medda,” Davey shook his head.

“Don’t be ridiculous, David, I’ll buy you food.”

Davey was about to protest, when Jack silenced him with a kiss. “Shut up, Mouth.”

Crutchie decided to get sushi, but Medda and Spot both chose to get Chinese food. Jack and Davey got a burger each and shared an order of fries.

Spot ate slowly. It was good, but his stomach was sensitive after the panic attack, so he stopped after half.

“You can bring it home and have some more later,” Medda told him.

Spot nodded. After everyone else had finished eating, they loaded back into the car. Spot sat in the very back. He was exhausted after the long day out. He leaned against the window and fell asleep.

JACK POV

As they pulled into the driveway, Jack turned to let Spot out, when he realized that the younger boy was asleep.

“Mom,” he said quietly, “Spot’s asleep.”

Medda turned. “Damn. I’ll sit out here with him until he wakes up. You boys can go in.”

Jack frowned, staring at Spot. He was very small, and he looked much less intimidating when he was asleep. He was kinda cute even, with long fluttering eyelashes and a slight smile on his lips.

“No, that’s okay, Mom, I can carry him in.”

“What if he wakes up?” Crutchie hissed. “He’ll kill you!”

Jack shrugged, scooping Spot into his arms. He was light, it was easy. The smaller boy shivered slightly, curling into Jack's warmth.

Davey followed, a soft smile on his lips. They walked up to Spot’s empty room and laid Spot on the bed. Davey kissed his boyfriend’s cheek.

“That was sweet,” he told him, “I love it when you’re sweet.”

“Well, come on, I couldn’t just leave him there,” Jack whispered, dragging Davey back to his room.

“Still.”

Chapter Text

SPOT POV

He woke up, feeling disoriented and sleepy. The last thing he remembered was the car. He must’ve fallen asleep. How did he get inside?

It was already dark outside, but Spot could hear voices, so he padded down the stairs, stretching. He winced as his ribs burned. He hadn't taken off his binder; he was lucky none of his ribs cracked.

“Hey, Spot,” Medda nodded. She was sitting on the couch, in front of the TV, “Did you have a good nap?”

Spot blushed at the childish language. “Yeah, it was fine.”

“You’ll have to thank Jack later,” she told him, “I was planning on waiting until you woke up, but he insisted on carrying you inside.”

“Where is he?” Spot asked.

“He’s out with David and his sister and her girlfriend,” Medda said, “Charlie and I were about to watch a movie. Would you like to join us?”

“Um…” he shrugged, "I don't know."

“Yeah, come on watch it with us! We’re watching Apollo 13 !” Crutchie patted the couch next to him.

“Okay,” Spot gave in, grabbing his lunch leftovers from the counter and sat down next to him. The older boy didn’t quite touch him, but they were close enough that they could sense each other’s presence.

The movie started in an awfully traumatizing way, with lots of fire and screaming. Spot watched with interest, eating his food.

About half-way through the movie, Crutchie groaned. “Can you switch places with me, please? I need to stretch out my leg.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Spot agreed. They switched it around, so Spot was in the middle of Medda and Crutchie.

“Thanks,” the older boy stretched out his legs as Jack Swiggert made a suicide joke.

Spot nodded. The scent of Medda’s perfume was oddly comforting as she pulled a blanket over the three of them.

“Have you taken off your braces yet, Spot?” Medda asked.

“No.”

“Do you need help?” 

Spot bit his lip. It was really hard to remove his leg braces without help, but he had already been 100x more vulnerable with them than he was comfortable with.

“No, I’m okay,” he said.

She nodded, and they turned back to the TV to watch the last thirty minutes of the movie.

“I’m going to shower and then go to bed. Goodnight, Medda. Goodnight, Spot,” Crutchie said, hopping up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” Medda waved.

Spot put his trash in the garbage and went upstairs too, leaving Medda to wait up for Jack. Despite being asleep for five hours, he was still tired, so he began to take off his leg brace. His hands shook and he swore.

He managed to get them off eventually. He pulled his binder over his head and breathed in relief. He lied there for a few minutes before pulling out his phone.

RACER: hey babeeeyyy

RACER: babe

RACER: I love you

Spot smiled.

SPOT: love you too

RACER: foster dad is back tomorrow until Thursday

SPOT: :(

SPOT: i’m starting at my new school tomorrow

RACER: ew which one

SPOT: idk. Text you tomorrow?

RACER: deal

RACER: love you, baby

SPOT: i love you too, dork

Spot rolled over and closed his eyes. Maybe his life wasn’t so bad.

Chapter Text

Spot, Crutchie, and Jack were ready for school by 8:30. Medda had gifted Spot a small black backpack, a few notebooks, and a pack of pens.

“Have a good day, boys!” Medda called, “I’m going to be home a bit late tonight.”

“Okay! Bye, Mom!” Jack shouted, sliding into the driver's seat of the van. Crutchie got the passenger seat, so Spot got into the backseat. 

He stared out the window as Jack sped down the street. He had never been alone with Jack and Crutchie before, and his fight or flight response was kicking in.

“We have to pick up a few of our friends on the way,” Crutchie told him, grinning, “They’re all dipshits, just ignore them.

“Okay.” Spot nodded. He felt his heart rate rise, so he fixed his face with a scowl and turned on the music in his headphones.

Soon enough the car was parked outside an apartment building and two boys were getting into the van. One held a cane. He’s blind , Spot realized.

“Heya, Blink. Mush,” Jack grinned, “Blink, there’s a kid--”

“I ain’t a kid, Jackie boy,” Spot growled.

“Kid in the back seat. He’s our new foster brother, Spot,” he continued.

The not-blind guy turned around. “Hey,” he nodded, “I’m Mush.”

“And I’m Kid Blink,” the blind guy said, “Nice to meet you, Spot.”

“Hi,” Spot replied.

The older boys turned back to the front, chatting about whatever, Spot didn’t really care. He wished he still went to the same school as Race. Admittedly, that part of his life had sucked really badly, but Racetrack had this incredible ability to cheer Spot up, no matter how many bruises were hiding under his shirt.

Speaking of which, he really needed to steal one of Race’s hoodies. He was fucking freezing.

“You good, Spot?” Jack asked, making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“Fine.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I said I’m fucking fine!” Spot prayed his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt as he glared at the older boy.

Jack glared at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s an awfully big word for you to know. Did you learn it from Davey?”

“Leave Davey out of this, brat,” he spat, turning his eyes back to the road. Spot snorted, returning his focus to the window.

The final person they picked up was some plain-looking guy. He sat next to Spot, laughing at something dumb Kid Blink had said.

“Who are you?” Finch asked.

“That’s Spot,” Mush said. 

“He’s our new foster brother,” Crutchie added.

“And a bit of a bitch,” Jack grumbled.

“Cool. Good to meet you, Spot. My name’s Finch.”

Spot nodded. He was out of the car as soon as it was parked in the school parking lot.

“If you aren’t back here by 4:00, you can walk home!” Jack yelled. Spot flipped him off in response.

He pulled his schedule out of his pocket and stared at it in disgust. English was first, in room 7. It was going to be a long day.

DAVEY POV

Davey had just finished chemistry class and was on his way to meet his friends at Jack’s locker when he heard shouting. He turned. 

Spot had Morris Delancey shoved up against a locker. He looked spitting mad, blood dripping from his nose onto his lip. Morris had a bruise already forming on his cheek. 

“Leave them alone,” he hissed, loud enough for everyone to hear him. He shoved Morris roughly and walked back to two eighth grade girls, who were holding hands. They looked terrified.

“They bother you again, come find me. I’ll deal with them.”

“Behind you,” one of the girls stuttered. Oscar reached out to grab Spot’s collar, and suddenly Spot’s fist was smashing into his jaw.

“Last chance. Fuck off,” he snarled, ripping himself out of Oscar’s grip. He began to storm off.

“Faggot!” Morris shouted.

Spot spun around, a dangerous smile playing on his blood-covered lips. “You’re damn right, I am a fucking faggot. But this faggot just beat your ass, so I’d suggest shutting up.”

Davey stared after him. Damn.

He chased after him. “Spot!”

“Yeah?” Spot asked, wiping the blood from his nose on his wrist.

“You wanna come sit with us?”

Spot blinked. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Davey led him the rest of the way. “Do you need help with your nose?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. It’s not broken,” Spot shrugged. 

Just before they got to their usual lunch spot, the younger boy turned to Davey. He looked nervous.

"Can you do me a favour and, uh, not tell Jack and Crutchie that I'm...you know."

"Not tell them you're gay?" Davey asked, "Yeah, no problem."

A look of relief appeared in Spot's eyes. "Thanks."

Jack, Crutchie, Finch, Blink, Mush, Katherine and Sarah were sitting on the ground next to the lockers. Jack jumped up as his younger foster brother came into view, covered in blood.

“Holy shit, Spot! What the fuck happened?” he asked.

“You should see the other guys,” Spot smirked, rubbing his eye with a wince.

“Which are?”

“The Delancey brothers,” Davey answered for him. 

“Oh my God,” Crutchie shook his head. "Kath, Sarah, this is Jack's and mine foster brother. Spot, are you alright?"

“It’ll be fine.” He sat down. “People in this school can’t fight for shit.”

Mush shook his head. “His nose is bleeding,” he told Blink, who nodded gratefully.

Spot wiped away more of his blood and leaned against the lockers as the other boys ate their lunches.

“First day of school and he’s already gotten into a fight,” Crutchie grinned, “Mom's gonna love that.”

“They deserved it.”

“Probably, yeah.”

Spot turned away, chuckling.

Chapter Text

Needless to say, Medda was less than pleased when she got home at seven o'clock that evening to find Spot with a swollen lip, a black eye, and cut that was still dribbling blood whenever he moved too quickly. She got him up on the counter and pulled out a first aid kit. Jack and Crutchie were up in their rooms, which Spot was grateful for.

“How on earth,” she asked, “did you manage to get into a fight on your first day? You were lucky none of the teachers saw.”

Spot shrugged, staring at the floor. He shouldn’t care what she said, he’d only known this woman for three days, but fuck, her being disappointed in him hurt. “They were pushing around some lesbians for holding hands.”

Medda fixed him with a stern look as she wiped the rest of the blood off his face with an alcohol pad. “Do you think they deserved it?”

Spot swallowed nervously, cursing himself in his mind. He’d dealt with Snyder, he could deal with any punishment she dealt out. Still, his heart pounded heavily in his chest. “Yeah.”

Her gaze softened, giving him a frog-shaped ice pack. “Don’t make a habit of it, alright? Hold this against your face.”

“Okay.” He hopped off the counter with a wince. “Thank you, Miss Medda.”

“You don’t have to call me Miss Medda, Spot,” she shook her head, turning to start on dinner.

“What should I call you, then?” he asked.

“Whatever you want,” Medda told him. “I know Charlie and Jack call me Mom, but you don’t have to call me that yet if you don’t want to.”

Spot nodded and left the kitchen wordlessly, quickly being replaced by Jack, who pecked Medda on her cheek.

“Spot needs a jacket or something,” he said, “He was shivering in the car earlier.”

“There’s an extra in my closet,” Medda assured him, “I’ll make sure he gets it. How was your day?”

“It was okay. Thought I was gonna have to call you to pick up Spot, but it turned out alright,” her oldest grinned.

“That’s good,” she poured a box of pasta into the pot of boiling water. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Woah, Mom, really?” Jack turned so fast his neck hurt. “With who?”

Medda smiled. “A very nice lady named Hannah. She came to see my show and stayed afterwards to talk with me.”

“That’s awesome! Hey, Crutchie!” he yelled.

“What?” Came the response from upstairs. 

“Mom’s got a date!”

“What?!” Crutchie came down the stairs way too fast for a boy on crutches. “Nice!”

Medda just laughed and went back to stirring the pasta.

SPOT POV

Spot laid on his bed, now decorated with red-striped bedding. He could hear Crutchie and Jack excitedly grilling Medda about her date. His chest ached, but he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen Race in a couple days. He was used to seeing him daily, save for the occasional day when he was too hurt to move.

SPOT: racerrrr

SPOT: R A C E
SPOT: wanna hang out tonight?

RACE: S P O T

RACE: yeah, sure

RACE: it’ll have to be at your house tho, cuz my foster dad is home

SPOT: okay

SPOT: 34 Maple Avenue

SPOT: don’t knock on the door

RACE: i’ll be there in an hour-ish, I gotta have dinner with him first

SPOT: okay

Spot stretched his arms up above his head, groaning in a pleased tone as his elbows and shoulders popped loudly before pulling out his history homework. He liked history, especially the revolutions. He loved reading about the underdogs winning, fighting back against their oppressors. 

He was about halfway through the second worksheet when Jack knocked on his door.

“Come in!” he called.

“Hey, Spottie, dinner’s ready and Mom’s leaving,” he said, peering over his shoulder, “Ew, American History.”

“Fuck off, it’s great,” Spot shot back, sitting up. “What are we having?”

“Macaroni and cheese. Mom’s going out though and Crutchie has piano lessons, so it’s just me and you tonight,” Jack said as they walked downstairs together.

Medda was dressed in a nice pink dress and had a bit more makeup on, applied with confidence. She kissed Crutchie and Jack on their cheeks, gave them each a hug, and promised to be home by midnight before turning to Spot.

“Be in bed before ten, please?” she asked, patting his shoulder, "You have school in the morning." Of course she wouldn’t hug him. He wasn’t a part of this family. So why did it hurt so bad?

“Okay,” he agreed.

Medda left, getting into her car and driving away.

The boys went to the kitchen, serving themselves some cheesy pasta and retreating to do their own things.

Spot sat on his bed, chewing happily as he watch Game Theory on his phone. MatPat’s voice ranted about Mario’s psychopath-ness, game soundtracks playing in the background. Spot thought it was hilarious.

“Spot!” Jack yelled. “I’m walking Crutchie to his bus stop!”

“Okay!”

The door slammed shut. They had barely been gone for five minutes, when there was a sharp tap on his window.

Chapter Text

Spot pushed open the window, helping his tall blond boyfriend into the room, his trademark cigarette held between his lips.

“Hey, babe,” Race said, pulling him into a kiss.

“I missed you, Racer,” Spot mumbled, squishing his face into his chest.

“I missed you too. How’s the family been?”

“Weirdly good. How’s your dad?”

“Ugh. He literally forgot Romeo existed because he came to live with us so soon to before he left, so he’s trying to watch a Disney movie with him,” Race groaned, sitting on the bed. “But me and Romeo both know he’ll stop watching five minutes in to work on spreadsheets.”

Spot hummed. “Gross.”

“Yeah. What happened to your nose?” he touched it gently, “Does it hurt?”

Spot shrugged, leaning on his shoulder. “I got in a bit of a fight at school. It’s not that bad.”

“That’s good. Where’re your brothers and mom?”

“Medda’s on a date and Jack is driving Crutchie to piano lessons.”

“Tell me about them?” Race requested, “I’m sick of my own drama.”

“Medda’s really nice,” Spot shrugged, leaning back on the pillow, dragging Race with him. “She’s an actress at the youth theatre. She’s the best foster parent I’ve had so far, I think.”

Race snorted. “It ain’t that hard to beat Snyder. Wait.”

He sat up, turning to Spot. "Do you still have your binder on?"

Spot nodded. "Yeah."

"Spotty!" Race whined. "You can't DO that!"

"Fuck off, Racer, I do what I want."

"You're going to break your ribs and then you won't be able to come to poker night and then I'll be all alone and sad and then-"

"Oh, shut up," Spot laughed. "Turn around>"

Race did, so Spot quickly took it off and curled up beside Race. "I hate you."

"I hate me more. Keep going. What about your brothers?"

“Fine. Uh, Jack’s a bit loud. He’s chill though. He’s eighteen. Crutchie uses crutches, obviously. He’s sweet. He’s a year older than us,” Spot pulled the blanket over them. “They’re pretty good.”

Race smiled softly. “You sound like you really like them.”

“Yeah, I guess,” the smaller boy agreed. “They’ll get tired of me sooner or later though.”

“I think I’m almost done with this home,” Race admitted. “I just hope he gives away me and Romeo at the same time.”

Spot nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “I wish we could run away together.”

Race wrapped his arms around Spot, closing his eyes too. “I’d never get tired of you, Spottie.”

“I know. Just think, a little apartment, just us, and Romeo. No people to throw us away, no social workers to tell us we’re not adoption material.”

“No moving into a new house every couple months,” he added sleepily.

They didn’t mean to fall asleep, pressed against each other, but they were so caught up  in enjoying a rare moment of peace in their lives, they did anyway.

JACK POV

“Spot!” Jack called. He was hoping to maybe play a couple video games, try and get to know the little twerp a bit better.

There was no reply. 

Worry chewed at him as he climbed up the stairs. “Spot?”

“Spot?” he yelled, knocking on the door. He opened it and stopped in his tracks.

Spot was curled up under the covers asleep, a tall blond boy next to him, wrapped around the top half of his body, also asleep.

A smile worked its way onto Jack’s lips. He turned off the lights and crept back downstairs. Getting to know his little foster brother could wait one more day.

Chapter Text

Spot woke up to an empty, still warm bed, an oversized hoodie, and a handwritten note on his desk.

Good morning, babe. I had to leave so I could get Romeo to school on time. I love you. <3 Race

He grinned, shoving the note into his backpack as he began to get ready for school. It was only six-thirty, and they wouldn’t be leaving for school until 8:30, so he decided to take a shower.

He crept downstairs quietly, where Medda was already awake. She looked up from her book with a smile.

“Good morning, Spot.”

“Good morning, Miss Medda,” he mumbled, “I-I, uh, I was wondering if it would be okay if I took a shower.”

“Of course it’s okay. I’ll get you some extra soap and shampoo,” she got up and led him to her bedroom. It was painted dark pink and was extremely neat. There was a black leather jacket on the bed, folded. Medda nodded to it. “Jack told me you don’t have a coat, so I found one of his old ones. It might be a bit big, but it’ll do until we can get you one of your own,” she added. 

Spot stared at it. It was beautiful. It had a soft interior. He slid it on. It was a bit big, but he liked how heavy it felt on his shoulders. It smelled safe, a bit like cologne and paint. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble, dear.” Medda opened one of the cupboards and pulled out a bar of soap and hotel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner. “Anything else you need?”

“No, I'm okay.” Spot rushed back upstairs and closed the bathroom door. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. What the fuck was wrong with him? She was just some random lady, why did she make him so nervous? He was Spot Fucking Conlon, he wasn’t supposed to get nervous. 

It’s because she’s nice to you. She doesn’t know you don’t deserve to be treated well yet. Give her time. She’ll figure it out soon enough.

“Shut up,” Spot said out loud. He shook his head and turned the shower on. 

He scrubbed at his body with the bar of soap for a while, basking in the lemony scent, before pouring a bit of the shampoo into his hair and scratching it in. Spot had always loved showers. It was warm and safe and the one place Snyder usually didn’t bother him. Except that one time.

Don’t think about that, don’t think about that, you don’t have to deal with him anymore, you’re safe. Spot shook his head. This place really was doing a number on him, making him think he was safe.

After the last of the suds were rinsed down the drain, Spot stepped out reluctantly onto the cold tile, wrapping a towel around himself. He brushed his teeth hurriedly and walked back to his room. He could hear Jack’s alarm clock going off, along with the sound of Jack throwing it across the room. Crutchie was already up, but Spot ducked into his room before they could meet.

He threw on his binder, Race’s hoodie, and a pair of jeans before he felt comfortable leaving his room again. The scent of his Racer--cigarette smoke and popcorn from the movie theatre he worked at--comforted him as he joined Medda in the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything, Miss Medda?” he asked, fiddling with the strings to his hoodie.

“You could get out the milk and juice for me, that would be helpful,” she smiled, “I’m making eggs, how do you like yours done?”

Spot shrugged. He hated eggs. The texture, the taste, the smell, everything, but he couldn’t tell that to her. He could struggle through one breakfast.

“I-I don’t know,” he said instead. “Whatever is fine.”

“Alright. How were your classes yesterday?”

“They were okay. What about your date?”

Medda shook her head. “You’re as bad as Jack and Charlie.” Still, she continued. “She was very sweet. We talked for hours. She works as a secretary in one of the newspapers downtown.”

Spot nodded, chewing on his chain as she spoke. Soon enough, a plate of yellow scrambled eggs was put in front of him.

“Go ahead and eat, they’re better warm.”

Spot shoved a forkful in his mouth and had almost swallowed when the smell and texture hit him. He kept chewing them, determined to swallow, but something was wrong. It was bad. Then the dishwasher turned on.

He could vaguely hear Crutchie enter the kitchen and ask him what was wrong. Tears flew down his cheeks. He shook. The lights were too bright. His skin felt too hot and too cold. The floor was vibrating. Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong, he couldn’t do this.

JACK POV

The minute he heard screaming, Jack ran down the stairs. The kitchen was in chaos. 

Spot was curled into a ball on his chair, crying and screaming. Medda was sitting next to him, not touching but trying to calm him down. Crutchie was staring at them, trying to help but not sure where to stop.

“Medda?” Jack asked.

“He’s having a meltdown. Can you turn off the stove and the lights?” Medda asked.

“Yeah, sure, anything else?”

“No, just make sure you eat something and get ready for school.”

Jack did, grabbing a piece of bread and beginning to toast it, but he stayed in the kitchen. Crutchie went back upstairs to get dressed.

Spot had stopped screaming at this point and was heaving as he sobbed, clutching to the table for dear life. 

“Spot, can you hear me?” Medda asked quietly.

He nodded jerkily.

“Do you want to go to my room or yours?”

Spot shook his head. 

“We’ll go to mine,” she decided, “Come on.”

She led him away and Jack almost went to help. Spot’s small, shaking form was pitiful.

“Take Charlie to school. Spot’s staying home,” Medda told him.

“Yeah, no problem.”

He finished his toast and went upstairs.

“Is he okay?” Crutchie asked.

“I don’t know. What happened?”

The middle child shrugged. “Beats me. He just started freaking out.”

Jack nodded. “Mom says he’s not going to school today.”

Crutchie winced as another shriek echoed from the room below them. “Can we leave a bit early?”

“God, yes.”