Work Text:
idiot: yo come get your boyfriend
idiot: he’s being difficult and i don’t wanna deal with him anymore
angry puppy: and you think i do?
idiot: he’s your boyfriend, you signed up to deal with his shit
angry puppy: fine
angry puppy: im on my way
idiot: ok
***
Spot knocked on Ms. Medda Larkin’s door, smiling at her when she opened it.
“Hey Ms. Medda, I’m here to pick up Race. Is he still here?”
Ms. Medda smiled back, stepping to the side so Spot could get in. “He and Jack are just upstairs in Jack’s room.”
“Thank you,” Spot said, climbing the stairs to Jack’s room.
He opened the door without knocking, unsurprised to see Jack lounging on his bed on his phone, no doubt texting Katherine, and Race splayed across the floor, rambling about something. They both looked up when Spot entered.
“Spot? What-”
“Oh, thank god you're here. Please get your boyfriend out’a my house before I have to listen to him go on one more rant about what to get ya for your anniversary,” Jack pleaded, jumping up from his bed.
“Jack!” Race cried, sitting up quickly.
Spot snorted, rolling his eyes. “You owe me one, Jackie. Today was my day off.”
Race made an indignant noise, reaching his hands up towards Spot. Spot grabbed them and let Race pull himself up, knowing full well he didn’t actually need any help, he was just being lazy.
“I’m wonderful, thank you,” Race said, dusting imaginary dirt off his pants.
“Whatever you say, Race,” Spot said, smiling cheekily. Race narrowed his eyes, cocking his head.
“Last I checked, Spotty, you ain’t broken up with me yet. I’d say you think I’m pretty wonderful,” he countered, raising an eyebrow.
Spot stepped forward, tilting his chin up to look Race in the eyes. “Yeah, I do,” he agreed, shrugging.
“Well, that’s perfect,” Race whispered, smirking, “‘Cause I think you’re wonderful too.”
“Aww, Racer, I’m touched.”
“Alright, if you two are done,” Jack interrupted, rolling his eyes, “Spot, I believe ya came here to get your boyfriend out of my house. Please do that,” he continued with a pointed look at his door.
“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, before Jack goes insane.” Spot rolled his eyes, grabbing Race’s hand and pulling him out of Jack’s room and down the stairs.
Race followed willingly, shouting a quick goodbye before he was out the door and on the front steps of Medda’s home. There, he stopped, pulling Spot back to him and lacing the fingers of their hands together.
“Hey,” he whispered.
The corner of Spot’s mouth lifted in a half smile, and he squeezed Race’s hands.
“Hey.”
“I’m sorry ya had to leave whatever ya were doin’ to come pick me up,” Race said, looking, for his part, a little ashamed.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Spot said, shrugging. Race grinned, and Spot couldn’t help himself any longer. He leaned forward, kissing Race sweetly. Race kissed back immediately, and Spot let one of his hands detangle from Race’s and come up to twist into his hair. Race sighed softly, shifting closer and wrapping his now free hand around Spot’s waist. Spot grinned, gripping Race’s hair tighter and pulling him even closer. Race pulled back, glaring.
“Stop smilin’,” he said, “Makes it hard to kiss you.”
Spot rolled his eyes and kissed Race again. He’d never admit it, but he was glad his otherwise boring afternoon had turned into one he could spend with his boyfriend.
“EY, STOP MAKIN’ OUT ON THE FRONT PORCH!”
Spot startled, glaring up at Smalls leaning out of the window above them. She smiled back innocently, and Spot scoffed.
“Gross, guys,” Crutchie added, sticking his head out his own window. “You’re defilin’ my home.”
Spot scoffed again, and Race grinned widely, “Just remindin’ ya what a gay couple looks like since we got Davey ‘n his girlfriend ‘n Jack ‘n Katherine shovin’ the straight half down our throats.”
Spot rolled his eyes, taking hold of his boyfriend’s wrist and dragging him away from Crutchie and Smalls and towards his car. Race protested loudly, and he could hear Crutchie and Smalls yelling their gratitude back.
Spot opened Race’s door and forcefully sat him down, closing the door so he couldn’t yell anything else before crossing to his side and getting in. He dropped into his seat and sighed at the cheeky smile on Race’s face.
“You’re impossible, y’know that?”
Race leaned his head on Spot’s shoulder, still grinning, and looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Yeah, but ya love it,” he said, and Spot shook his head.
“Sometimes, I wonder why,” he muttered, not entirely sure if he wanted Race to hear him or not. They’d been together for a couple months now, and hadn’t said “I love you” yet. He knew it was true, knew he loved Race with all his heart, but he was scared. He’d never said that to anyone before, and he sure as hell didn’t want to mess this up by moving too quickly.
He pulled out of Medda’s driveway, humming softly along to the rock playing on the radio. He was surprised Race hadn’t changed it to his playlist of musicals Spot refused to admit he enjoyed yet. Race was quiet though, staring out the window. He was clearly deep in thought, and Spot knew that if Race didn’t say something within the next couple minutes, something was wrong.
They got all the way back to Spot’s apartment before Race finally spoke.
“Race ya up the stairs,” he said, mischief sparking in his eyes before he took off. Spot followed behind, laughing and protesting.
“Your name's Race!” he yelled after his boyfriend, “This ain’t fair!”
Race just threw that carefree smirk and wink Spot loved so much over his shoulder and ran faster.
When Spot finally caught up to Race at his apartment door, he shook his head at his boyfriend’s satisfied smirk.
“Ya had to get the name Racetrack somehow, ” Spot complained as he unlocked his door, “Course ya won.”
“I didn’t actually get named Racetrack cause I run fast,” Race said, breezing past Spot and kicking off his shoes.
“Really?” Spot asked, following Race.
“Nah, Jackie gave it to me cause I talk fast when I’m nervous. It was like two am, I was thirteen,” Race explained, moving further into Spot’s apartment. He pulled his apron from the hook in Spot’s wall immediately, apparently having made the decision that he was making something.
“Huh. I always thought they gave it to ya at Snyder’s. ‘S where I got mine, ‘n Jack got his, y’know,” Spot answered, turning on his laptop and pulling up a movie.
“Yeah, Jack gave me mine like a month after I got out, I never said enough at Snyder’s to get a nickname.” Spot almost laughed out loud at that. Race? Not talking enough to be noticed? That would be a first.
“So, yeah, your arguments invalid,” Race finished, glancing at Spot with a grin. Spot rolled his eyes, reaching over to tug on one of Race’s curls.
“Still,” he said, winding the strand of hair around his finger, “You’re, like, six inches taller than me.” He pulled on the curl a little harder than he had before, laughing at the indignant noise Race let out.
***
It was later that night, when Race laid on Spot’s chest and traced one of the tattoos along his arm, that Spot finally found out what had Race so quiet in the car earlier. Spot had been playing with Race’s hair, using one hand to brush through it gently, the other on Race’s back, holding him close. Every once in a while he’d drop a kiss on Race’s head, enjoying his pleased hums.
Suddenly Race shifted, moving so he was face to face with Spot, though his eyes stayed downcast. Spot pulled his hand from Race’s hair, brushing his thumb along Race’s cheekbone before letting it drop to the couch.
“Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?” Spot asked, concerned by the look on Race’s face. Race didn’t look at him, just stared down and bit his lip.
“‘S just-” he cut himself off, glancing up at Spot briefly, before looking down again. “In the… in the car earlier. When you said I was impossible. ‘N I… I said you loved it. I- I didn’t mean to make it sound like that meant like ya loved me, or anythin’, cause I know we ain’t been datin’ that long, and it’s probably really early for that, ‘n you don’t have to say anythin’, but I- I do. Love you, I mean. I love you. Like, a lot. ‘N you don’t have to say it back, I totally get it if you don’t feel the same, I probably wouldn’t love me either-” woah, okay. They were unpacking that later- “‘N you’re usually way more rational than me, so it’d make sense if I fell head over heels ‘n you more, like, slowly walked down stairs or somethin’, but I really, really, love you, ‘n I’m-” Spot kissed Race, cutting him off. He felt him falter, then slowly relax enough to kiss Spot back.
Spot pulled away, grinning at the uncertain look on Race’s face. “I see now why Jackie named you Race for talking fast. You ramble.”
Race rolled his eyes, but Spot could see the fear in his eyes. He moved his hand to Race’s cheek, grounding him and reminding him that he was still there. That he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
“Race,” Spot said, trying to tilt Race’s head up so he would have to look him in the eye. Race refused, looking to the side at the wall when he couldn’t look down anymore, and Spot sighed. He couldn’t help but be reminded of a toddler being scolded by his mom. Finally, he gave up trying to get Race to look at him and leaned even closer, resting his forehead against Race’s. “I love you too.”
Race’s eyes snapped to Spot’s. He looked hesitant, careful, like he didn’t really believe it. Spot’s heart broke and burned; broke in a million pieces in sympathy for this boy in front of him so sure that he was unloveable, and burned red hot in pure hatred of the man- Race’s fucking father, for god’s sakes- that had done this to him. He had no right to still hold this power, no right to make someone so beautiful and wonderful feel like he couldn’t ever be loved. Still, he had, and now here was Spot, trying to convince a boy just as broken as him that he could be loved, that he loved him, that everyone that met the kid loved him, and that he deserved all of that and so, so much more.
Race dropped his gaze again, biting the inside of his cheek. Spot sighed and tried to move his head into Race’s line of sight. Race kept looking away again when he got close, determined to not actually look at Spot.
“Tony,” Spot scolded, holding Race’s head in both hands and forcing it forward. Race still refused to look at him. “Look at me.”
Race shook his head, eyes fixed on the same wall they had been earlier.
“ Antonio, ” Spot said, and finally, finally, Race looked at him.
“What?” Race whined, faltering under Spot’s intense gaze.
“I love you. I love you so fucking much it’s been almost impossible to not say it these past weeks. I love you so fucking much that I can’t stop thinking about you. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten in trouble in class because I was thinking about the date we had later that night? I love you, everything about you, more than I know how to say. I love you .”
Race’s eyes sparked with hope, and finally a soft, small smile broke across his features. “I love you too,” he mumbled quickly, leaning forward to catch Spot in a kiss as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
Spot responded, letting both his hands slip up and tangle themselves in Race’s hair. He pulled Race closer, hoping he’d understand everything he didn’t know how to say. Finally, he was able to pull away from Race, just far enough that their lips were just barely touching.
“Shit, Racer,” he breathed, taking in everything about this moment. He wished he had the artistic skill of Jack so he could draw this moment, Race flushed and smiling and happy and beautiful, or maybe the writing skill of Katherine so he could find the right words to describe everything that he was feeling, everything that Race made him feel.
“What?” Race asked, smile wide and breathless and gorgeous .
Spot wound one of Race’s curls around his finger again, marveling that one person could be so wonderful.
“Nothing,” he said, grinning at the feeling of finally,
finally,
being able to tell Race how he felt to his face. “I just love you, that’s all.”