Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me save for the wonderfully useless drabbles.
[A/N]: This is a collection of drabbles and/or one-shots. I may update soon, or not at all. Really, I told myself I was going to write 'Death to Spottie' today, but when I took out my notebook, this is what happened. Enjoy (hopefully).
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Heat
[111 words]
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Madison Square
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It's too hot.
This is the first thing Spot thinks of when he opens his eyes, squints against the cold sun. He idly wonders why there is heat when it is the day after Christmas and there is snow on the ground outside. He feels hazy and slow and everything is blurry but perfect.
There is a weight on his chest and a pleasant feeling along his side but he thinks nothing of it.
He remembers the party last night and the laughter and drinks and the loud conversations.
He remembers the boy.
He looks down and sees Racetrack's sleeping form curled up next to him.
He smiles.
It's too hot.
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End Drabble [Heat]
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