Chapter Text
ALBERT POV: ⬇️
June. Sweltering heat, blood-sucking bugs, and cranky people. But with June, comes pride month.
Now, I’m not complaining that it is pride. I’m proud of who I am, and there’s a reason I flaunt the scars on my chest. But, picking up my drunk best friend from bars every other day isn’t exactly fun. Which is why I am still exasperated at yet another drunken call from none other than Racetrack Higgins, at 4 am in the morning.
“Albooooo~” He slurs his words on the other end of the line, and is clearly somewhere with loud, annoying music.
“Yes, Racer?”
“Can you-“ He hiccups, before giggling and stepping somewhere quieter. Thankfully. “Can you come pick me up?”
”Sure.” I sigh, tossing on a muscle tee before getting up. I stay on the line with Race, listening to his garbled giggles.
“Tony, do you know where you are?”
“Noooooo…” He drawls, the sound of a body flopping down onto a chair and more giggles (this time not from Racetrack) taking over his voice.
“I have your location, babe. Just hang tight, okay? I’ll be there soon.” A squeal comes from the speaker just as I hang up, likely by whatever drunk friends Race has made this fine evening.
My motorcycle revs up, and I get going. It’s an older, used vehicle, but at least it has a seat attachment for Tony. And an extra helmet, of course.
When I pull up to the bar Racer’s location is at, I park my motorcycle and lock it to the nearest place I can. I don’t immediately see Race, until a shriek comes from a bench nearby.
There he is.
Racetrack’s face is flushed, and his eyes are glued to me. I take off my helmet and shake my hair, blowing some out of my face.
”Tony?” I call, and he stands up. His “friends” for the night seem to be a group of equally drunk college girls, all swooning over me.
I walk over to him, hoping against hope that he’s sober enough to walk.
I was wrong.
He attempts at standing, before falling back down onto the bench. One of his friends “whispers” (shouts) something and points at me. It sounded like a jumbled mess, but it must’ve been something along the lines of “look at his hair!” And “He’s beautiful!” I don’t usually mind compliments, although I don’t particularly like them at 4:15 a.m at a a random dive bar.
Sighing, I shoo away his friends, before scooping him up into my arms. Again, giggles erupt from the small crowd of 7 girls, including Racer.
”Aaaal,” he drags out the A. “Stop it, you- you’se embarrassing me!”
Yep, definitely drunk.
I plop Racetrack down in the “backseat” of my motorcycle, before making sure the other girls with him had safe rides home. Once they were all being picked up by boyfriends or girlfriends, I finally started the motor.
Racetrack leans against me, arms securely wrapped around my waist. Sometimes he squeaks when we come to a stop, but otherwise he’s all right.
When our apartment comes into sight, I sigh in relief. It wasn’t a far drive, but how late I had to get out shocked me.
I went through the same speil I always do when Racetrack is drunk to shit. I have to physically sit him on a counter, get him water, make sure he’s okay, force him to shower… it’s exhausting.
After what feels like hours (and may very well have been, it’s 5:30 a.m now), I finally set Racetrack down on his own bed, and pull the covers over him. To be honest, he’s a bit of a sappy drunk, bu I’ll never tell him that.
Just before I’m about to cross the room to my bed, Racetrack grabs my wrist, and I turn.
”Thanks for taking care of me, Red.” He smiles, and this is finally the calmest he’s been this entire night.
“No problem, Tony. Just don’t stay out too long, yeah? What if I’m too tired to pick you up?” More giggles.
“Goodnight, Tony.” I kiss him on the forehead, pretending not to notice the blush that spreads across his cheeks. When I turn to go for the second time, he still clings onto my wrist.
“Stay?” Racer’s voice is barely above a whisper, and it takes me a little bit to understand why, but I do. Living with your best friend for the better part of three years often builds a deep understanding between you two, and Race and I are a perfect example of exactly this.
He doesn’t ask me to get close to him physically, so I know this took a lot of effort for him to come out and say.
“‘Course I’ll stay.” I sit down gingerly next to him, before fitting my lean body snug against Racetrack’s own. He gets himself comfortable, shifting to sprawl across me. At the end of his burrowing, he rests his head in my chest, content like this.
It’s a exhilarating feeling for someone to trust you so vulnerably like this. Race has never been one for touch, so this interaction holds special meaning for the both of us. I’d give the world for Race to always be able to trust me like this, I’d hang the stars themselves if it meant I could help him in any way possible.
And then it clicks - I love him. I love this boy so truly that it almost hurts. My subconscious files those thoughts away for later, as I focus on the now. Race sleeping soundly, and my own eyes drifting closed.
I can think about that later.
RACETRACK POV: ⬇️
I wake up groaning, tangled in sweaty sheets. My head is pounding, and the memories of last night suddenly begin to resurface. Getting absolutely shit-faced (again, for what possibly may have been the 2nd time this week), going outside, calling Albert…
Albert. Where is he? I muster up the strength to sit up, and look over to his bed. Empty.
Begrudgingly, I begin my long journey to a standing position, wanting to look for my boyfriend.
When I smell the sound of sizzling bacon and eggs, a sense of odd relief floods my body. “Albo?” I call, wandering into the small kitchen area we share, before stopping dead in my tracks.
Even my hungover brain can stop to appreciate another man’s beauty. Especially Albert’s, apparently. He’s shirtless, and his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. His curly hair is perfectly tousled in a way that looks absolutely delicious, and his back muscles are on full display.
I snap out of my trance, and wander over to him. I rest my head on his shoulder and my hands low on his stomach, back to my usual (flirtatious) self.
“Look who’s back.” He murmurs, morning voice sounding absolutely heavenly to my ears.
“I’m hungry.” I whine, wrapping my arms more fully around Albert’s waist. He sighs in false exasperation, before pointing to a plate ready on the side. It’s even complete with a fork! How thoughtful!
“You’re in luck.” He deadpans, continuing to fry his own eggs. I kiss his cheek as a way of thanks, starting to wolf down my food even before I sit down.
Just as Albert sits next to me, I lean back in my chair, already done. “God, you are amazing. I love you.”
“Love you too.” He garbles around a mouthful of bacon.
A silence stretches across us, slightly uncomfortably. “You mean it?” I tease, trying to fill the gap.
”Yeah.” He doesn’t even look up once.
”Hey, fatass. Look at me.” He looks, shooting me a scowl.
“Do you love me? Like… like how Dave an’ Jack are?”
“Yeah.” He repeats, slower this time, as if I’m stupid and not getting what he says. I like that about Albert, he’s honest with me.
”You down for dating? Like holding hands and all that?” I ask, the language far more casual than I usually would use to ask someone out.
“I’m game.” Albert goes back to his food, no doubt just as starving as I am.
”Hell yeah.” I pump my fist and whisper “yes!” To myself, before staring down Albert for another good long minute. This kind of relationship I think I could get used to. Albert and I are already close, we’ve known each other for years, after all.
Not that big, dramatic displays of love are bad, I just think that with me and Albert, they’re unnecessary. We both love each other, and that’s good enough for us.