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Did Antonio want to wake up? No. Was he being forced against his own will because he has duties that must be upheld? Yes. And boy, he was not happy about it.
Davey stood in the doorway, a judgemental look plastered on his face.
“It’s nine o’ clock, Tony, you gotta get up.”
He grumbled into his warm, comfy, loving pillow and regretted ever having to move. Tearing himself away from his bed’s welcoming grasp, he sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes.
“Wha’s up witcha?” His voice was full of sleep. “I was sleepin’ so good.”
“You have to be a prince, Tony,” he informed him as if he didn’t already know, “Did you forget who you were?”
“Might as well’ve,” he sighed, throwing his blanket to the left and climbing out of his four-poster bed. “I slept so good but you had ta ruin it.”
Davey rolled his eyes and closed the door as he stepped out again. The room grew dark again and Race could feel sleep tugging at his mind. Maybe just a few more minutes…
“Antonio.” A knock rang through his large room and he groaned loud enough for them to hear.
Guess it was time to start the day.
—------—
Tony held his pressed coat in his hand, his white button-up sleeves rolled up to his elbow. It was summer, way too hot to be wearing some dramatic flair. Though he is dramatic, he wouldn’t deny that.
“About time you showed up,” Davey turned away from Sarah, his sister, and Katherine, her best-friend and fellow chamberlain. “I thought you died in the sheets.”
“I wish I did,” he rubbed his face and ran his hand through his hair.
“Anyway,” Davey turned back to the duo. “You guys can hit Tony’s room first. I wish you the best luck.” They snickered as Tony squeaked out an indignant sound.
“It’ll be such a warzone, Kath,” Sarah laid her hand on her forehead, “I don’t know if I’ll survive.”
“I’ll be right by your side; we die together.” They let out peals of laughter and Tony just became more and more offended.
“Go on, say something.” Davey joked. Tony only stumbled for words which made them all double over in laughter.
“Alright, alright,” Race managed to say. Sarah and Katherine continued to giggle as they shoved past him, slipping around the oversized wood doors and closed it behind them.
“My room’s not that bad, right?” Tony looked back at Davey who had just now collected himself.
“It’s not,” he said plainly, “I just like to make you insecure.” Tony smacked the back of his head and they both started down the grand marble hallway. He hadn’t put his shoes on yet. Was that a mistake? That was up for debate, but he hasn’t fallen yet.
“So what did you wake me up so early for?” Tony shoved his left hand into his pocket, slinging the blue jacket.
“Princely duties, your Highness,” he bowed dramatically. Tony rolled his eyes and let Davey continue. “You gotta go through every working part of the palace and make sure things are going smoothly.”
Race’s head fell back and he whined like a kid. “We did this last month.”
“It’s a monthly thing, Tony,” Davey raised an eyebrow, “we’ve done this for years.”
Race mumbled quiet complaints to himself as they turned the corner to an even larger hall, full of random people, though he could name most of them.
A servant named Romeo was propped on the wall holding himself up with his foot and leaning towards another named Jojo. The latter was clearly done with his shit, though Jojo wasn’t the easiest to read.
They passed by the large open doors flowing into the library on the right, the twins Mike and Ike shelving whatever books Tony failed to put away yesterday. They were laughing about something that he didn’t catch.
Right across from that room was a fairly large study that housed thousands of sheets of paper, shelves of ink and quills of a wide variety, even more books found on the most random surfaces. Les, a young almost-ten-year-old, stood next to Louis–nicknamed Blink because of his eyepatch. He finished writing and folding up a paper, handing it to Les and commanding him to deliver it to Henry and adding that he was going to visit a friend.
Tony smirked. Everyone in the palace knew that he and Michael–or Mush–had something going on except for them. The pining was endless and he wasn’t sure if it would ever end. Les flew by and entered a distant room in the same expanding hallway and left almost as quickly.
Soon reaching the room, Tony peaked his head into the treasury and saw Henry himself in the middle of reading the paper. The question of if he had ever slept the night before had no answer.
“Seems like nothing burned down yet,” Davey drew back his attention and Tony pulled his head back out to look at him. “There’s still the rest of the palace, but this held a good amount.”
He glanced back down the bustling hallway that flowed with even more servants than before (some he couldn’t name, he found out).
They turned left and entered, yet again, another large, sparkling hallway. Towering windows lined the right side and showed right out to the gardens, large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, intricate sculptures stood on the left in between even more rooms that probably didn’t have a use.
Specs sat out in the garden, kneeled down and tending to a bush of roses and cutting leaves that he didn’t deem worthy.
“When was the last time we went out into the garden?” Tony thought out loud.
“Not in a while, actually,” Davey sounded a little disappointed at that. “We could go after we finish.”
Tony smiled. “That would be great.”
They rounded the end of the hallway straight into a winding staircase that led to the kitchen. He began to realize how absolutely miserable it would be if you broke your leg while working. Maybe he should set something up for that.
“Hey, Dave, how’s it going? And Tony! What a surprise." Crutchie chirped merrily as they both entered. Tony looked around at the stone walls and fiery ovens. Flour was causing it to look like a mess. Elmer popped up from behind a counter and smiled brightly.
“What’s with all the flour?” Tony asked them curiously.
“Dropped a crate of bags that got delivered this morning.” Crutchie rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, the other occupied with a wooden stick.
“Before you were awake.” Davey jabbed at him. Tony swatted his hand away and the cooks chuckled at the interaction.
“If you need any help, just ask Mush. He’s in the other room, isn’t he?” Tony offered. Crutchie and Elmer shared an uncomfortable look.
“Isn’t he?” Davey repeated.
“He’s a little…” Elmer faltered.
“Occupied.” Crutchie filled in.
Tony and Davey shared a suspicious glance, but decided it was best not to ask. They both waved goodbye at the group and exited back up the stairs.
“We should do something about these.” Tony looked over at Davey.
“About what?” He queried.
“The stairs,” he gestured to the spiraling stone slabs. “Like this would suck if you break a leg and have to walk up these.”
Davey sighed. “Tony, I want you to look at me,” Tony stopped a step ahead and looked into his judgemental eyes. “Crutchie doesn’t even have a leg. We have stuff.”
Oh, right.
“Oh,” Tony turned away sheepishly and Davey mumbled something quietly in Hebrew. Or Yiddish? He forgot. Tony was fluent in some languages, but that was not one of them. But even if he didn’t know the words, he knew it was an insult.
A few minutes continued to go by as they finally entered the foyer. A grand staircase turned two ways, meeting to a whole other floor they would eventually have to check in with.
The floor was polished almost to a mirror-like shine and the walls retained their ages-old golden hue. The large windows let in the world’s natural light and a huge entrance door was spread wide open.
Guards stood scattered across the room, though two stood out from the crowd; the Marshal and the closest royal guard. The marshal stood tall(ish) on the right side of the steps and Jack Kelly, the guard, stood pestering him.
Spot Conlon was his name. A lovely name for a lovely person. And he will go to his grave with that secret sentence.
He was the youngest marshal to have ever been at the palace, only eighteen, and while he was short, he was stern, forceful, strong, commanding, independent, hot–
“Tony,” Davey smacked his shoulder and broke his train of thought.
“What?” He blinked.
“Your coat?” He said expectantly. Why was he asking about it? It was right–
He didn’t have his coat. Oh, Buttons was gonna kill him.
“Uh…” he stopped in his tracks and turned around aimlessly on his heel.
“You’re so mindless.” Davey grumbled. “Go, do whatever, I’ll go ask around.”
“Sorry, Dave!” He called out as Davey left the scene in search of his coat. He feels bad, but he immediately forgot that he did when he looked back at Jack and Spot.
He strutted over to them with a lazy smile and held his hands in his pockets.
“Morning, gentlemen,” he said fashionably.
“Never say that again.” Jack side-eyed him. Tony pretended to be annoyed at that, but he really hated having to speak properly.
“Can you tell Spot here that it’s too damn hot to wear a coat right now?” Jack spoke pointedly to Tony, ignoring Spot’s reach for his black jacket.
“He’s right, Spot,” Tony shrugged. It felt cooler somehow in the foyer, but the point still stood. “Oh, there’s my shoes!” Tony bent down and grabbed them from the foot of the steps.
“Those were not there before.” Jack stared at him.
“Guess I’m just magic.” He sat on the second step and began to slip his shoes on as the two began to bicker again.
“It’s just a dress code. What is this, school?” Jack pointed out.
“I said give it back.” Spot attempted to lunge for it, but Jack held it high.
“And I said no.”
Spot sprung up in a high jump and snatched it from his hands unexpectedly. Though the victory was only short-lived when Tony grabbed the jacket and sprinted for the exit.
Spot gaped at him and stared only for a moment before processing what happened and bolting after him. Davey walked back in with his discarded coat and glanced at Jack who was nearly crying of laughter.
Of course they would do this, he thought.
—------—
Tony flew down the steps of the palace and took a sharp turn to the left, flying straight into the gardens and shooting across the green grass, Spot following quickly in tow.
He ran right past Specs, nearly knocking him over in surprise. He shouted a sorry and glanced behind in time to see Spot leap right over a kicked over bucket, eyes set right on him.
While that was utterly terrifying, he also couldn’t complain about his athletics.
He turned right and entered a large path of flowering trees and bushes, arches of metal curving over like a clear drape and shaping the way vines grew. His feet hit the stone path hard and he figured he could shake him by going his own secret path to the stables.
Tony reached the end of the tunnel of foliage and tore out into a path of rose bushes that led to a gazebo that blossomed with all sorts of flowers. Pots with camelias, cyclamen, gardenia, wisteria–any kind of flower that you could think of were in glazed and patterned pots that were set on each side.
Though Tony’s path didn’t go all the way straight.
Spot was close behind, so Tony leapt over a large bush and tumbled through to the other side, quickly recovering and heading towards the stables.
He flicked his eyes back again and double-took when he saw no one. He breathed out a winded laugh of victory.
He would say he shook him, but he was quickly proven wrong when Spot had dove over the bush as well.
Oh, shit he’s gotta go.
He squeaked out a scared sound and took off running again, getting so close to the stables. He could almost touch it. But Spot was too fast.
Spot got hold of his wrist, spun him around, and knocked him to the ground face up, pinning him down and wrenching the coat out of Tony’s hands. Hay flew around them and dust puffed up from the ground of the wood stables.
Spot caught his breath quickly and looked back down at Tony, his knee driving right into his chest. They both froze in place and stared at each other, a little shook at what position they held each other in.
“What are you doing?” A voice tore through to them and their heads shot to the source. Albert was petting a horse’s face that was owned by Finch Cortez, the best rider there was.
“Fucker stole my coat,” Spot mumbled as he fell to the side of Tony.
“Such crude language!” Tony gasped. “I should have you arrested.”
“You would never arrest me and you know it.” He looked knowingly at Tony and they both knew it wasn’t wrong.
“Why were you just laying on top of him, though?” Finch piped in.
They both glanced at each other and looked away just as quickly, though there was no way anyone could miss the unmistakable blush on their faces.
Albert chuckled and had the same thought as Finch. Gay. No judgement, though, most people in that castle were. There were even two queens one time, surprisingly.
“Totally platonic.” Albert said slowly, keeping it just loud enough for them both to hear. That definitely made them blush more. Even Spot.
Seeming proud with what they caused, the two turned back to each other and resumed a heated conversation about different types of horse breeds.
Tony spared a glance at Spot and saw his face. It was scrunched up in confusion looking at Albert and Finch. It was a mix of many emotions and Tony couldn’t tell what they were.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“What?” Spot snapped back and looked at Tony. “No, it’s fine. Needed a good run anyway.” He started to walk back a simpler way through the gardens and Tony trailed beside him.
“You put up a helluva chase,” he said as they passed a row of red roses. “Might as well call you racer.”
Racer. Was that a nickname? From Spot Conlon?
“I like that,” He decided. “Antonio ‘Racetrack’ Higgins.” He moved his hands out in front of hima nd gestured in a rainbow arch.
“Where'd the ‘track’ come from?” He looked over.
“Cant just keep it as Racer, can I?” He said as if it made all the sense in the world. “It doesn’t flow right.”
Spot hummed in acknowledgement, spaced out and lost in thought. He wondered what he was thinking about. Was he annoyed about this? Happy? So mad they would never talk again? He desperately hoped it wasn't the latter.
What Race was sure of was that he definitely had a crush on the marshal and it would not be going away. He had wanted to kiss Spot senseless when he had him pinned to the ground. It was so hot.
“What’re you giggling at?” Spot asked him. Was he giggling?
“Am I?” He hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah,” he turned back and kept walking, the coat draped over his shoulder.
“You want to know what I’m thinking about?” He offered before he could stop himself. Oh, panic time.
Spot took up the offer and stopped expectantly. Even more panic rose in his chest.
“Our shirts.” He blurted out. Nice save, he thought proudly.
“Oh, shit,” Spot looked down at their used-to-be clean white shirts and grimaced at their state. Both were covered in dirt, hay and grass, their hair tousled around and messy. “Buttons is gonna kill us.”
Race burst out into a fit of laughter at his straightforwardness. He couldn’t collect himself for a while and eventually Spot had joined in. Something about laughing just brings people closer together.
Another thing about laughing is that you begin to laugh at the fact that you can’t stop laughing and it just keeps piling on and on and on. Eventually, they both collapsed on the ground laughing hard.
“Oh my God,” Race gasped for air. They both tried desperately to collect themselves.
“You should kiss.” Specs appeared from the other side of the bush. That certainly shut them up.
“What?” They said in tandem.
“You heard me.” He skipped away and disappeared into the trees, leaving them shaken.
Should they? I mean, Race definitely wants to, but he didn’t know if Spot was comfortable. Let alone if embe was gay or not. If he wasn’t this would just be a whole mess–
There went his train of thought as Spot grabbed the back of his neck and seized the opportunity to pull him into a fiery kiss. Race leaned in and his eyes fluttered closed.
Though when Spot pulled back in a panic and tried to stand, Race just yanked the shirt of his collar and pulled him back down. “Hell no, you’re mine now.” He lunged forward and went in with even more passion than before, letting their hands and waists fall into place. Race fell back and hit the stone and Spot held the back of his head in protection.
They didn’t care about the shirts anymore.