#sonofabreach

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” Race asked loudly as he barged into the room, Spot sitting on his bed, seemingly focused on mending one of his shirts.

“I haven’t, I’se been busy lately, running a borough takes a lotta work.” Spot denied, not looking up from his sewing. One of his boys had probably warned him that Race was coming to talk to him.

“Hotshot already told me that Brooklyn hasn’t had any big issues that needed your attention recently when we was playin’ poker. N’ you’ve always had enough time to see me before, even if was just joinin' in on a game with the boys, which, by the way, you've only been doin' when I'm not around. You’se been goin' out of your way just so I couldn't talk to you.” Race cracked his knuckles methodically as he spoke, never could hold still, especially when upset. “And don’t even get me started on what happened at the Union meetin’!” Race ran his hand through his hair, clearly getting worked up.

“I’m not avoidin’ ya Racer.” Spot repeated, more firmly this time but less steady.

“Yes! You are!” Race threw his hands in the air, he couldn’t believe Spot would so blatantly lie to him, let alone that he would do so so poorly. Did he seriously think that Race didn’t know him well enough to tell when he was lying? Even disregarding that, Race was excellent at reading people, it was a skill he developed out of necessity. “What I want to know is why, did I do something wrong? Please Spottie, just tell me so’s I can fix it.” He was almost desperate for an answer, any answer at this point. It'd been awful not being able to talk to the boy he cared so much about but Race didn't want to lose Spot and he'd do just about anything in his power to make sure he didn't.

“You ever consider that maybe, just maybe I think you’se annoying and don’t want you around? Not everything’s that deep Racer.” Spot still hadn’t looked up from his sewing. Racetrack froze, completely still for the first time in weeks, not even breathing. Spot didn’t really mean that, did he? Race knew he could be a little loud and over the top, but if he was bothering Spot he would have told him, right? Or was this Spot finally breaking and telling him after putting up with him for so long? No, no way. Spot was way too blunt to wait that long, if he really thought that about Race he would have said something the day they’d met, or one of the countless times they’d spent time together walking Sheepshead or playing poker. He was trying to get Race to give up and leave. Too bad for him, Racetrack Higgins is a stubborn bastard.

“Why are you lying to me?” Race demanded. Spot jerked, finally looking at Race, eyes wide, and promptly caught his finger on the sewing needle.

“Shit!” Spot immediately put the shirt down, set the needle and string to the side, and inspected the wound. It stung but at least it wasn’t bleeding. As soon as it was clear that Spot wasn’t injured Race began pushing for a response, he wasn’t going to let Spot get away with avoiding him for weeks and then dodging his questions.

“Answer the question Spot.”

“I- uh, I…” Spot floundered, struggling to find the right words, or maybe just trying to find a way to make himself say them. He had clearly been thrown off his game. Race was impatient, he’d tried approaching Spot countless times over the past month and he’d tried to give the boy some space once it became clear he was being avoided, but Race was done waiting. Especially considering that now that Race had confronted him, Spot had had the gall to lie right to his face. “I’se scared.” Spot finally admitted, barely above a whisper.

What? That was… not what Race had been expecting to hear, to say the least. “What could possibly scare the King o’ Brooklyn and what the hell does it have to do with you avoiding me?” Race stepped forward, into Spot’s space.

And the metaphorical dam broke. “It’s you, Racer! You scare me! You just walk into Brooklyn one day like you own the place with this big grin on your face and for some reason I don’t kick you out like I outta, you’se managed to befriend so many Brooklyn boys you’d think you were one, you’re always tryin’ to get people to laugh n’ smile even if it means makin’ a fool of yourself. Christ Racer, you give affection like it’s the easiest thing in the world, always throwing your arm around people or leanin’ on them, I swear you’d die if you went five minutes without touchin’ someone. An’ every time you do it to me it makes my chest hurt and whenever you smile at me it’s hard to breathe and whenever you’re around I feel like I can’t keep my eyes off you. I- I ain’t ever felt like this before Racer, an’ I don’t know what to do and that scares me!” Spot’s voice pitched up near the end, clearly distraught.

“Oh.” So Spot liked him. Huh. So Spot had spent over a month avoiding him because he couldn’t handle his feelings. God, Race had it bad for a real dumbass. “So let me get this straight, you realized you have feelings for me and your first instinct is to completely ice me out?”

“You- you… yes?”

Damn, looks Race was going to have to be the emotionally competent person here. “Okay I’m going to break this down for you real simple. One, that was a stupid thing to do and you should’ve just talked to me about it, you had me real worried that I’d done something wrong. Two, I like you too idiot, thought you knew that and that’s why you wouldn’t talk to me but apparently not. Three, if you ever do somethin’ like that again I’ll soak ya, got that?” Spot nods, still kind of reeling with the idea that Race felt the same way he did.

“‘M sorry Racer, I… shouldn’t a’ ran away from my problems like that, not- not that you’re a problem or that I don’t wanna be with you Race, it’s just that was a pretty stupid decision on my part an’ I’m sorry I hurt you cause I was scared.”

“Good.” And with that Race surges forward and pulls Spot into a quick kiss. Breaks off with a smile, “Wanted to do that for a while but never thought I’d get the chance, also apology accepted, but don’t think you’re off the hook for that, you’ve got at least a month of quality time to make up to me.”

“Oh do I now?” There was a smile pulling at the corners of Spot mouth, and Race knew he’d be getting his way.

“Yeah, an’ you can start by cuddlin’ me, it’s a bit late to be walkin’ all the way back to Manhattan. Besides, I’ll die if I go five minutes without touching someone, you wouldn’t want me to die in the night while you slept Spottie, would ya?” Spot pretended to contemplate this while he pulled Racer into his arms and laid back on his bed.

“As if I’d let any of my boys walk all the way to Manhattan at this hour.” Spot snorted. Race let himself grin, Spot had just called him one of his boys. “You’d be stayin’ here even if I weren’t sweet on ya. Besides, Kelly would kill me if a Manhattan boy died in my borough, so I guess I have no choice.” Spot was full on smiling now, a rare sight, as he pulled Racer into his side and he buried his head into the crook of Spot’s neck.