I can dim the lights and sing you songs full
of sad things
We can do the tango just for two
I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings
Be your Valentino just for you
Ooh love, ooh loverboy
What're you doin' tonight, hey boy,
Set my alarm, turn on my charm
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned
loverboy
Ooh let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster)
Ooh ooh let me feel your love heat
Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love
And tell me how do you feel right after all
I'd like for you and I to go romancing
Say the word, your wish is my command
-Queen, Good Old Fashioned Loverboy
Race awoke to being kicked.
Oddly enough, it was a familiar kick, and after a moment, knew that it was Maria who was kicking him awake.
His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Maria pushing her foot into his stomach, and he grabbed her leg, letting out a fake roar. Maria giggled, and hopped on one foot as Race threw her over his shoulder gently and broke her fall on a pile of pillows.
"Carina," he greeted. Maria was still laughing. He looked around. "Where's..."
"Rosetta and Gabriel are in her room kissing. I saw. They woke up early." Maria brought her voice down. "She came downstairs and woke everyone up and everything."
Though Race knew that Itey and Sophia probably wanted to be alone, he was glad she woke them up before his mother or father; she'd obviously done it to make sure none of the boys were found in any compromising situations.
Speaking of which, Dutchy had slept in briefs...
He glanced to the side, where Dutchy was sitting up, and made a face. "Ught, Dutch. Boxers. Boxers. Put on pants."
Maria followed his gaze, and kind of stared, then her face turned scarlet and she turned back to Race. He decided to be amused instead of horrified. "See? Boys are gross, which is why you never want to date."
"You keep telling yourself that, Tony," Mush mumbled sleepily.
"Where's Spot? ...Sean?" Race asked.
"Making coffee with Marco."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, 'cause he woke up first and Marco was just staring at the coffeemaker sadly, Sean said. 'Cause he couldn't figure out how to work it."
"That's just sad," Blink said, finally sitting up himself.
"It's Marco," Race said, and Maria giggled. Race kissed her forehead. "We'll be up in a few minutes, all right?"
"Okay." She jumped to her feet and kicked him again, then dashed off and upstairs before he could react.
Race grinned and Blink snorted. "You two are like...a TV show brother/sister thing. It's annoying. Stop being like a movie."
"Not my fault I'm awesome."
"Not his fault." Dutchy batted his eye lashes at Blink, who threw a pillow at him. "Your boyfriend wakes up too early," Dutchy said to Race. Race smiled.
"I know, it's cute."
Dutchy pouted; that hadn't been the response he was looking for.
"Tony..." Mush said sleepily. "Do you have that history essay due Monday on you?"
"Yeah."
"Can you help me out? I suck."
Race snorted. "You owe me two pages of Chem."
"I'll so give them to you."
Race shrugged. "Like I could say no. Yeah, I just need to find my binder."
"TONY!" Sophia yelled from upstairs. "Tell your friends breakfast is ready!"
Race glanced around the room. "So, breakfast is ready."
"Heard that," Dutchy said. "Will it be good?"
"Dude, my mom cooked it."
"...And?"
"She taught me and my sisters to cook. So yes, it'll be good." He pushed himself up into a standing position. "So let's go eat."
"Dude, I can't find my binder," Race whined.
"So where'd you last see it?" Spot asked into the phone, as Race had called him right after they got home from church.
"How the hell should I know? If I knew, it wouldn't be lost."
"It's probably in your room somewhere."
"My room is spotless. If it was here I'd be able to find it!"
"So? Chill. It's just a binder."
"It's all of my history notes!"
"You're good at history."
"Yeah, but I promised Mush he could look at my essay and I've got all the info for my research paper in it... Fuck, I need to find it."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Great, remind me to never call you for sympathy again."
"Duh."
"Okay, I'll re-trace my steps..."
"You do that."
Race ignored the tone in his voice. Spot was such a cranky little bitch. "Okay, so I had it when I was... oh fuck."
"Fuck me?"
"NO. Fuck that I forgot my binder at Blink's!" Race bit his nail. "I'll have to go to his place."
"He sure is away tonight." Spot coughed. "Spending the night at Mush's."
"They're having sex?"
"They HAD sex already."
"...WHAT? When?"
"Friday. Blink's dad was out of town, Mush spent the night... And, you know, baw chic-a baw-ow." Spot's attempt at porn music was quite amusing.
"Wow. I can't believe Mush lost his virginity," Race said, then, "I can't believe he lost it before I did! I was so supposed to score first."
"...You know, I did offer."
"Shut up, Spot."
"I'm just sayin'."
"Shit. So he's at Mush's, but I fucking need that thing..."
"So? It ain't like Blink's door is hard to open." Spot paused. "Come over here for dinner, we'll order in instead of making you cook this time. We'll drop by Blink's and you can grab your binder."
"Drop by? You mean break in?"
"It only counts as breaking in if it's locked. And seriously, I can get through the lock if you need your stuff that bad."
"...You can pick a lock."
"Yeah; I went through this whole vandal phase a few years ago."
"Great. So now you're a criminal."
"YOU should talk, Mafia Boy."
"Spot..."
"Yeah, not funny, I know. Still. Come over."
Race sighed. "Yeah. Okay."
"Jack isn't here, by the way. He and Sarah are having sex off in Jack's van."
"Ew."
"I know." Spot made a retching noise. "So, ride over, I'll tell Denise. Oh, and just so you know, we're watching movies."
"What movies?"
"Godfather."
"You fucker."
"I know. I thought you'd like that."
"Serious, if your house was bugged, you'd--"
"I was joking, you fucking Italian!" Spot snorted. "James Bond, for fuck's sake."
Race pouted. "You're mean."
"I'm sexually frustrated. Your fault."
Race bit back his first reaction, which would have totally given them away, and instead settled on the non-incriminating, "It is not, you fucker. I can't help it if you get horny whenever I'm around."
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Ha," Race snorted, then, "I'll go ask my dad about going to your place."
"Yeah, you do that."
"Spot, don't be a bitch." Race sighed. "See you soon, with any luck. Ciao."
"...Yeah. Ciao." The Italian sounded weird coming from Spot, who added, "Bye," because it just didn't feel quite right.
Race chuckled as he hung up, slipped his cell into his pocket and grabbed his car keys. His parents were in the living room, his father reading a paper and his mother reading a novel in Italian.
"Hey, uh, Dad?" he asked.
"Hmmm?" came the reply, though his father didn't look away from the paper.
"Can I go to Sean's for dinner?"
"You and Sean spend an awful lot of time together, Racetrack."
"Well... Yeah. He's my friend." Race shrugged. "I left my bag at Ryan's house after rehearsal, I need to go pick it up so I can do my homework." Because it was true, but more importantly, school was a viable excuse for almost anything.
"Be back by ten."
Race grinned. "I will. 'Night, Dad, Mama." He half-waved and walked out to his car.
"Denise is wrong," were Spot's first words when he opened the door.
Race blinked. "About what?"
"Who's better, Pierce Brosnan, or Sean Connery?"
"Neither."
Spot stared. "Get the fuck away."
Race rolled his eyes and pushed past him. "What are we eating?"
"Chinese."
"You eat anything?"
"I ate a piece of squid."
"You ate HALF a piece of squid!" Denise called from the living room as Race and Spot walked into it. "He'll eat more, give him awhile. James Bond makes him hungry."
Spot rolled his eyes as Race dug in, much like he was part of the family. Denise smirked.
"Oh, help yourself."
Race blushed. "Geeze, sorry, I--"
"Don't have a hernia, kid." Denise laughed. "But that dumpling is mine. Hands off."
Race made a face at her and ate it.
She made a face back and slapped his hand hard enough to sting. "Brat," she accused.
He shook out his hand. "It was worth it," he declared, then to Spot, "So, binder or Bond first? Since you're done eating already."
Spot glared at him and took a forkful of rice.
"Awwww, I'm so proud," Denise cooed.
Spot flung the rice at her.
"SEAN!" She swatted at him a little.
"Binder," Spot said. "Then we can settle in for a moviethon. How was church?"
"Boring."
"Fall asleep?"
"Well, I'm not grounded, am I?" Race rolled his eyes and helped himself to more food.
And Denise mused, "Does it bother you, Tony? Your family being religious and them... Not knowing about you and Sean?"
"Yes; and yes, but two of the three sisters know."
"You should tell your parents."
"I don't think so." He shook his head. "That would not go well."
"Maybe not, but wouldn't you rather get it over with?"
Race shot a look at Spot, then said, "Nah. Besides, the whole secret thing makes it even hotter."
"You sweet talker, you," Spot answered sarcastically.
Denise made a face. "Ugh. Not around me. Sean." She looked over at him, and Spot raised an eyebrow. "Please be a gentleman."
Race laughed. "Yeah, Spotty, be a gentleman."
"Only if you're less of a girl," Spot shot back, and walked out of the living room. Denise winked at Race.
"You two hurry back, have fun."
Race nodded, and then quickly grabbed the three remaining spring rolls and hurried out of the living room. Denise yelled after him.
Spot was waiting by the front door. "My mom thinks you're a brat."
Race paled. "She does?"
"No, kidding, idiot."
Race nodded, then looked oddly at Spot. "You just called Denise your mom."
Spot looked at him as he put on his shoes. Spot cleared his throat. "Whatever," he shrugged, and walked out the door.
Race rolled his eyes and followed. "Bye Denise!" he called out.
She replied with a muffled, "BRAT"
He laughed and shut the door behind him, and he very much wanted to grab Spot's hand as they walked the block to Blink's house, but... They had no way of knowing if they were being watched. So he didn't.
Sure enough, no one was home at Blink's house, and the garage door was shut. But the front door was unlocked, so Spot let them in. It was kind of creepy, walking through Blink's empty house in the dark, and the garage seemed... Odd, without anyone there.
Race flicked on the light and glanced around. "Yeah, I don't see it."
"Well, look for it."
"I'm going to. Help me." He snickered. "Maybe we'll finally find your shirt."
"Ooh, yeah. I want that back. I only have, like, four of them..."
"Okay, that's it. I'm taking you shopping next weekend."
"I'm broke, dumbass."
"Yeah, but I'm not." He kissed Spot quickly. "Dating a spoiled rich kid has a few advantages."
"It sure would be nice if having sex in the backseat of your Lexus was one of them."
"You just keep fantasizing, Spot." Race laughed. "Really, though... I mean, Mush lost his virginity..."
Spot rolled his eyes. "Let's find your binder and go fuck."
"Spot."
"Fine. Let's find your binder and go make out while Denise drools over Sean Connery."
"That sounds fun." Race smiled a little, and really, he realized, he wouldn't have minded doing more than making out. A little more, anyway... But it was probably for the best that he didn't mention that to Spot, who still seemed impossibly horny.
Race glanced around, looking behind the couch, and close to the drumset because he figured he might have left it down by the bass drum. He was about to check until he heard Spot let out an amused growl kind of laugh.
"I found something."
"Was this something my binder?" Race replied, looking down at the floor.
"It's better."
"Better than my binder?"
"Shut up, you'll like it."
"I'd like my binder."
Spot kicked his leg and Race winced, and jerked his head up, causing it to bang on the cymbal. A loud crash echoed through out the garage, along with Spot's laughs.
Race rubbed his head and turned around to glare at him. "You big ass--what the hell is in your hand?"
Spot grinned. "Condoms!"
"WHAT?"
"Blink's stash." Spot began laughing. "Seriously, under the couch there's a bag of... condoms and lube and... oh Christ."
"What?"
"Handcuffs."
"Oh my Godddddddd, that's... Not something I want to think about..." Race shuddered. "Right. Mush is innocent, Mush is innocent, Mush is--"
"Blink's not." Spot was still laughing. "Handcuffs and--"
"NO MORE. I do NOT want to know anything else about their sex life!"
"I do." He paused. "But that's what study hall is for."
"I can not believe that you're looking through Blink's sex stash." He paused. "Porno mags?"
"Duh."
"He's predictable."
"And a co--"
"Don't want to know!"
Spot looked up at him, almost quizzically. "...Do you think they have sex in here?" he asked.
And Race shuddered. "I don't want to knooooooow."
"This is some sort of cruel twist of fate," Spot muttered. Race sighed.
"What's that mean?"
Spot turned to him, and suddenly they were standing close and Race was feeling way more turned on than was healthy. "It means that everything is where it's supposed to be. That's all." Spot shrugged. "Your call--"
"Spot, I can't just decide in two seconds because there just happens to be some condoms and lube and...THINGS lying around Blink's garage." He paused. "Where we're alone."
Spot shrugged and didn't say anything else. He just went back to looking through the sex stash.
Race bit his lip. "I feel dirty."
"I can make you feel dirtier."
Race glared. "Spot, cut it out."
"Do you want me to?"
"Do I want you to what?"
"Cut it out," Spot said. "Either that or I could throw you down on the couch and then--"
"Shut up!"
"Well, you know. I could." Spot sighed. "Okay, fine, shutting up now. Let's find your damn binder."
Race nodded, and Spot set down the condoms.
And Race muttered, "Handcuffs. I'm never gonna be able to look at him again."
"Found your binder."
"Where?" Race demanded.
"It's under the sex bag." He paused, then cackled, "They had SEX on your BINDER. It's got Mush and Blink allll over--"
"IT DOES NOT."
"But it could. Look."
Race looked, and sure enough, the bag was lying directly on top of his binder, and he could now see the handcuffs Spot had alluded to and shuddered. "EW, the fuckers had sex on my BINDER."
"We could always get revenge by having sex on Blink's couch."
"SPOT."
"Yeah, shutting up."
Race paused. "Denise is home."
"Yeah?"
"And you said Jack would be home in, like, an hour."
"...Yeah?"
"Well. We could always just make out on their couch. I mean... You know, 'cause there's people in your house and we're alone here." He shrugged.
Spot raised an eyebrow. "Okay."
"...And we can see where it goes from there." Race smirked.
"Tony, don't tease me."
"I sure will if I want to."
"Yeah?" Spot answered, and grabbed Race's wrist. "Two can play at that game." He dragged Race up off the floor, and as per his earlier comment, shoved him down on the couch.
Race kissed him eagerly. He couldn't believe it had been so long since they'd had a chance to touch each other. Standing next to someone he loved as much as he did Spot, and not being able to touch him whenever he wanted, was almost some kind of torture.
Spot was being rougher than usual, but in an oddly deep kind of way. Race didn't really know how to describe it.
Except when Spot bit his lip. Then Race kneed him in the stomach. Spot pulled back, grinning.
"Did I say you could stop?" Race asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Do I have to?"
Race let the question linger in the air. He bit his lip, tasting Spot on his mouth. "We'll see."
Spot just kissed him again, and grabbed hard at Race's crotch.
Race inhaled sharply and groaned, and realized just how badly he wanted Spot's touch, and apparently the gasp and groan were enough that Spot realized it too. His hand began to slide up and down the outside of Race's jeans, and Race's facial expression went oddly euphoric.
Or maybe it wasn't so odd.
"Should I stop?" Spot murmured.
"Not if you ever want me to talk Italian to you again."
"Do it," Spot answered, and Race obliged with a few barely coherent sentences. Spot didn't know what they meant, and Race barely knew what he was saying.
He stopped talking abruptly when Spot's hand slipped under his jeans, and his eyes went wide. Spot looked at him with a little concern. "Is it--okay?" he asked.
And in a split second, Race's mind was made up. He nodded, and Spot unbuttoned Race's pants as Race tried to pull Spot's shirt off. Both couldn't happen at once, and Race's belt was being a pain, so Spot waited until he'd shrugged the t-shirt off to get back to work on the buttons.
Race could feel himself blushing, but somehow, that didn't matter. He kicked his jeans off and Spot pulled at his shirt, and Race nodded a little and just wanted to get the undressing over with because it was awkward and there were many other things he wanted to be doing.
But then he saw that Spot was working his way out of his own pants, and really, that was too hot to be awkward.
Then Spot was kissing his mouth again, hungrily, and with that Spot edge. Then he bit at his neck, his shoulder, slowly trailing kisses down Race's stomach. Race started to pant slightly, as Spot continued trailing kisses down past his pelvis, and...
And a few moments later was panting heavily and clutching at the cushions on the carpet, moaning loudly, but hardly able to tell because he felt as if he wasn't awake, he was in an amazing and perfect dream.
Then Race moaned again loudly, and Spot was sitting slightly on top of him, grinning, looking so goddamned cocky and proud that Race just wanted to show him up more than anything.
But he was so goddamned worn out, and he'd barely done anything.
"Oh... Oh my god..." Race managed to mumble between heavy breaths.
Spot raised an eyebrow. "I'm good at head, but I'm not quite a god."
"You're amazing..."
"You look a little worn out there, Midgito."
"I wanna..." Race leaned back against the couch. "I wanna get you off."
"Okay." Spot smirked a little. "What? You think I'm gonna argue with you?"
Race smiled, but Race didn't seem quite capable of anything BUT smiling right then. "I've never... You know, gone down on a guy or... Or anything."
"Virgin." But Spot was smiling.
"I thought you were gonna fix that."
And for a change, it was Spot who was caught off-guard, and after a moment of him just staring at Race, he said, "You... You want me to?"
And Race nodded sincerely. So Spot kissed him quickly on the lips and declared, "You're the best boyfriend EVER." Then he nudged Race's shoulder, a cue for him to roll over, while he rummaged around on the floor for the bag of Blink's stash.
Race didn't move for a second, he just watched Spot fiddle around with the bag on the floor. "Where the hell're..."
"Spot?"
"Yeah?" he said distractedly.
"I love you."
Spot stopped looking, glanced up at him.
And then Race was caught off guard because Spot actually smiled. Not one of his mean smirks, or the sexy grin or anything like, an actual smile, and he was so goddamned gorgeous that Race could hardly stand it.
"I..." he stopped. It was funny. The first to admit it and yet he had the most trouble saying it. "...love you too."
Then he dived back down, looking for supplies, and when he re-emerged, saw Race still hadn't rolled over.
He bit his lip.
"Tony," he said seriously. "You sure you wanna do this?"
Race looked down at the floor for a second, blushing, and answer, "Sean, I want you more than anything right now."
"Well, in THAT case." Spot nudged him again and he rolled over, and Spot kissed the back of his neck, traced his hands down Race's incredibly well-muscled back, and groped for a condom and lube. There was a short, awkward moment of preparation, and Race shuddered a little at the cool, slippery feeling of the lube against his skin, and then...
Then it was Spot, and it was him, and there were no real words to describe it. He heard himself groaning, talking in Italian, heard Spot's moans match his own and felt himself responding to Spot's touch, Spot's presence...
He never wanted it to end, but at the same time, when it did he wasn't disappointed. He turned his head and looked into Spot's eyes. "Ti amo, Sean," he said quietly.
"...What you said." Because now, Spot was at least as exhausted as he was, and almost covered in sweat. But somehow he made it look hot. Though really, Race didn't think Spot could ever be anything but hot.
Then they lay there, Spot holding him, Race leaning back into his body and taking in his scent.
"That was amazing, Sean."
"You're amazing," was Spot's mumbled reply, and Race smiled, kind of giddily, because Spot was his and no one else's and he almost felt as if it would always be that way.
And everything was lovely and amazing and then Race's cell phone rang from his pocket.
"Fuck it," Spot mumbled. "Let it ring."
Race hesitated. "I shouldn't."
"Tonyyyy...."
"Spot, if it's my dad and I don't answer it, I'll be grounded until I die."
Spot didn't want to admit that he was right. But, he was right. So he just sighed a little, and Race forced himself to move and dug the phone out of his pants pocket. A quick glance at the display showed that it was someone calling from his house. He wanted to groan, but instead just answered, "Ciao."
"Anthony Paulo Higgins; you will come home now."
Race's eyes went wide, but he forced himself not to jump to conclusions. "Dad, what's going on?"
"You will come home now."
And that was definitely not good. Because that wasn't the 'you're past curfew and I'm pissed voice'; it wasn't even the 'you're spending a month in rehab whether you want to or NOT' voice. It was totally blank.
And that was much, much worse.
His father hung up, and Race slowly turned to look at Spot.
"What?" Spot asked.
"That was dad."
"Yeah? So?"
"So he sounds pissed."
"What else is--"
"No." Race shook his head. "Like 'you did cocaine' pissed. Like, 'you disgraced the family' pissed."
Spot didn't say anything. "But..." he mumbled, after a long moment of silence. "How could...that doesn't mean he..."
"What...what if we're being bugged..." Race said in a breathy voice. "Shit, come on, come on, get dressed!"
And soon they were rushing around, throwing their clothes back on and Race was rushing out of Blink's house clutching his binder, Spot following, and they both ran all the way back to Spot's. Race hurried into the car, and shook his head when Spot let himself in the passenger seat.
"No, go home," he snapped. Spot stared.
"What? No, I'm going with you."
"He'll kill you."
"I don't care."
"I do!"
"I'm not gonna let you go back there alone. You can't stop me, Tony." Spot shook his head. "So don't try."
"Spot, I mean it. If he knows, he might actually kill you." Race gave him a sincere look, barely masking his nerves. "You've seen him, you've seen him..."
"I'm not letting you go alone," Spot said again.
"Spot--"
But his cell was ringing again, and he didn't have a chance to say a single word before his father's voice snarled, "Did you forget how the ignition works, Anthony? Home now."
And the line went dead.
And Race stared at his phone for a second, then actually screamed and hurled it at the pavement on the driveway, and it hit with a satisfying smashing sound and Race doubted it would ring again, because it wasn't that in tact.
"Tony--"
"He fucking KNOWS, someone's watching us NOW." He slammed his fist against steering wheel and yelled, "God FUCKING DAMN IT."
Spot took hold of his wrist, and Race just turned to stare at him and they didn't say anything while they stared at each other.
"If you come, you have to promise you won't say anything that'll get you killed."
"Too much to hope for, Tony."
"Promise."
"Start the car."
And then it was another staring contest until Spot started the car for him. And they drove off.
Ten minutes from Race's house, he was shaking so badly he wasn't safe to drive anymore, and Spot made him pull over to switch places. Spot wanted to make a joke about finally getting to drive the car, but could see how little good it would do; nothing was going to lighten the mood. And Spot couldn't help but remembering how homophobic Race's father was, and that his father carried a gun with him.
A plain black van pulled up behind them, and Race shuddered a little.
A block from Race's house, Spot pulled over again, and the van paused, too. Spot leaned over and kissed Race quickly, no longer caring that they were being watched--it was too late for that. "You'll always have me," he mumbled. "No matter what, Tony, okay? You'll always have me."
"I love you."
Spot looked him in the eye. "I love you, too." For a change he didn't have a hard time saying it. And a block later he parked the car in Race's driveway, and Race was barely able to walk. Spot put a hand on his back for support, to keep him from falling, but he stumbled as it was. It felt like a ridiculously long distance to the door; the screen was shut but the solid door behind it was open, and looming just behind that was Paulo Higgins.
"We are so fucked," Race mumbled.
"You sure were, and it was fun," Spot answered, and defiantly grabbed Race's hand. Because if they were caught, he wasn't going to hide anymore; and if Race's dad was going to kill him, he wasn't going without a fight.
Race opened the screen door and before he could even step inside, Paulo Higgins's hand grabbed his collar, hauled him inside, and slammed him into the wall. Spot lost his grip on Race's hand, but only for a second. He wasn't going to let Race go through this alone, and he stepped up next to Race, back against the wall.
For a long second no one spoke, and finally Mr. Higgins snarled at his son, "How fucking DARE you bring that piece of shit faggot into my house?"
"Dad--"
Mr. Higgins's hand cracked against his son's face and Race's skull slammed back into the wall from the impact, and for a second he looked dazed, his eyes not quite focused. But he recovered fast and tried to react, but Spot beat him to it.
"Leave him the fuck alone!" Spot yelled, without even meaning to. "If you're gonna beat the shit out of someone, it's me, goddamn it. I fucking turned your son gay."
He knew exactly what was going to happen, but couldn't bring himself to care. So he didn't flinch when a moment later he found himself staring up the barrel of Mr. Higgins's gun.
"DAD!" Race yelled and started forward, shoved his father, who pushed him away easily. His arm didn't even waver. If the gun hadn't been leveled at his forehead, Spot might even have been impressed.
"I gave you a chance to save yourself," Mr. Higgins said coldly. "You brought this on yourself."
"Fuck you," Spot spat back.
"Dad!" Race yelled. "Dad, stop!"
Spot just stared hard at Mr. Higgins, biting his bottom lip, not saying anything, and Race stepped over and stood slightly in front of Spot, shaking his head.
"If you fucking touch him..." Race's voice wavered slightly.
"He doesn't deserve to live."
"Neither do you!" Spot snapped back. "You fucking prick! You don't know a goddamned thing about one person in your family!"
Race elbowed Spot hard in the ribs.
The gun went off then, but it shot out a light because Mr. Higgins had aimed for the ceiling.
"Get out."
Spot glared.
"Get. Out." He lowered the gun, back into a position where Spot was clearly the target. "Marco will escort you home."
"Marco?" Race demanded, but his father ignored him and just grabbed Spot's arm, opened the screen door and shoved. The screen door snapped shut behind Spot, and then Mr. Higgins shut the inner door as well, and Spot was gone from Race's view.
Spot was gone.
Race swallowed hard and stared at his father. "What do you mean 'escort him home'?" he said. "What's Marco going to do to him?"
"Marco is a member of this Family," Mr. Higgins answered. "He has his family duties. As do you." He still hadn't put his gun away. "And you will never, ever see those people again." He spat the word people so darkly that it sounded worse than any insult would have.
"You can't--"
And then Race was slammed back into the wall. "You are in NO position to dictate what I can and can not do." His father glared down at him. "You will be changing schools; furthermore--"
"NO!" Race yelled. "No, you can not fucking DO THAT!" He shoved his father's hand off of his shoulder. "Sean and I--"
"Sean is nothing," his father said, leaning down, glaring directly into Race's face. "Sean never happened."
And Race answered, "Sean had better get home safely, sir."
"You don't have the right to talk to me like an equal, boy!" Mr. Higgins snapped, pushing Race further into the wall. "You dare bring that... fag into this household? Near Maria?"
"He's not a disease!"
"He might as well be!" he yelled. "And YOU. You disgrace me, more than you ever have, by going along with it. You... you're a junkie and a mess, and a slob and you dare to let that pervert touch you?"
"It's not like I CHOSE to be gay!"
"You're not gay."
"Yes I am!"
"You're. Not. Gay."
"I'M A FAG, DAD!" Race yelled, not caring that everyone, anyone could hear. Not caring about anything. "And as much as I wish it, I'm NOT one just to spite you!"
His father took a second to react to that, and did the one thing that Race truly never believed he would. No matter how much he and his dad fought, no matter how much they hated each other, he'd never expected to see his father level a gun at him. And yet, there he was, shoved up against the wall, his father's lower arm pressed to his chest so he couldn't move, and his father's gun inches from his temple.
He wasn't sure, but he thought his heart might have stopped beating for a second.
And finally, his father spoke. It wasn't a yell, but his voice was definitely dangerous. "Listen to me very carefully, Anthony. For years you have been a--nothing but a drain on this family. Useless, uninterested in the family business, and then addicted to drugs, and ALL of this I have accepted. But if you wish to continue to live in my house, as part of my family, you will never, ever touch another boy. Is that understood?"
And Race took a deep breath and answered in a voice which was forced calm, "Then maybe I don't want to be in your family."
His father shoved the gun against his head. "Is that understood?" he snarled, the calm facade dropping.
Race's mouth reacted before his brain did. It was odd; it felt like he was listening to someone else yell. "NO! Go ahead and fucking SHOOT ME if I'm such a drain--I never fucking ASKED to be in this family, I never WANTED to be part of it! I'm a fucking gay cokehead and I don't deserve to live so go ahead and do it!"
Then there was another silence and finally, to Race's astonishment, his father backed away and lowered the gun.
They stared at each other.
"Do you expect me to do that?" Mr. Higgins asked, and carefully put the gun away.
Race glared. "You were about to."
"You listen to me, BOY." His voice had something else in it now. Something Race couldn't understand. "Families stay together, and families don't back out and leave, and I won't let you fall victim to a perverted faggot."
Race almost wanted to hear what his father was trying to say. Almost. But he couldn't, because Spot loved him, and his father didn't.
"You're not my family."
"What?" his father demanded, and repeated, "What the hell did you say?"
"I said you're not my family." Race stared at his father, like it was the first time they'd actually looked at each other in years. He felt shaky, like if he wasn't leaning on the wall he'd probably collapse. "You're nothing but a fucking bigot." His mouth kept working, even though his brain felt like it had shut off. "And nothing matters to you but your fucking business and you think I'm the perverted one? You fucking KILL PEOPLE and you look down at me for being gay? You're so--I fucking HATE you. I fucking hate you!"
Well. That had been coming for a long time, even if he didn't realize he'd said it until after it was too late to take back.
He expected his father to shoot him or punch him or do something.
But he didn't.
They just sort of let the silence seep into them for a long time. And then he saw some sort of expression form on his father's face. An expression he knew well because it was always his before this.
It was trying so hard, but eventually, fucking up.
"Then leave."
And that was all he said.
So Race bit his lip, wiped his eyes, and started for the stairs. Because he couldn't take any of this anymore.
And when he saw Maria on the top of the stairwell, he felt everything start to collapse. She was looking at him like he was dead, almost. Like he was leaving and would never come back and it was one of those things that parents would never talk about again.
He wouldn't let Maria be sad. She deserved to be happy more than anything, and because he'd be gone and she could finally have a normal life for a change. Without her fucked up, cokehead, homosexual older brother.
So the first thing he did was hug her tight, tight enough that in any other situation she'd have squeaked that she couldn't breathe. But it wasn't any other situation, and she hugged him back just as fiercely, and by the time he let go he could see her struggling not to cry.
"Maria..." he mumbled, and started walking towards his room, his hand on her shoulder. He had to pack.
Christ. He had to pack so he could leave. And he wouldn't be coming back. For a second he felt dizzy and if Maria hadn't been there he suspected he'd have broken down entirely, but damned if he'd break down in front of his sister.
She sat on his bed and he found the large suitcase he kept in his closet. He didn't know what to say.
"Tony," she snuffled. "Tony, do you--do you have to go?"
"I do."
"But--you and Daddy--you could talk and once you're calm you say you're sorry and--"
"Maria, please." He turned around to face her, sat down next to her. "I can't. I--I can't."
"You--you did before..."
"That was different." He kissed her forehead. "I am sorry about the... the drugs. But this is different, it's--Maria, did you understand what it meant when I told Dad that I'm gay?"
She nodded.
"See, that's why I have to go--I can't be here when he won't accept that."
"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you--why do you have to--can't you just stop?"
He almost winced. He hated how she didn't understand, but then, he couldn't expect her to. Not when he considered who her parents were.
But then, they were his parents too. And he was gay.
"I can't." He knew she was on the verge of crying and reached for the box of tissues as the first tears came. "It's not something you can choose. And I can't stay here if Dad won't accept it. It wouldn't be safe for me here--me or Sean." She took a tissue and scrubbed at her face as he kept talking. "It's like--Maria, would you be sorry if someone said they hated girls with black hair?"
"...no..." she managed.
"That's how it is with me. It's what I am and I can't apologize for it, so I can't stay."
"But what about me?" She shuddered, and started to cry in earnest. "Don't you love me still?"
"Carina..." Race sat next to her on the bed, slipped his arm around her shoulder, let her cry. "Of course I do. I love you so much I can hardly believe it. But I can't stay. It won't be good for anyone. If I could bring you with me, I would."
"Why can't you?"
"You know why."
She looked at him, still sniffling, and Race couldn't help but notice she'd grown a bit over the past couple of weeks.
He'd missed it.
He hugged her again, but she pulled away, wiping her eyes.
"I'll help you pack," she said, semi-cheerfully. Race had to smile.
That was Maria's way. She didn't like being sad, and she didn't like crying, and he didn't doubt for a second that she was fighting tears with every essence of willpower she had.
"Okay." He tried to make himself smile and couldn't quite force it; he realized he probably looked like a clay sculpture that had been messed up and abandoned, his face stuck in an expression he couldn't even name. He swallowed hard and made himself add, "Sophia says I don't have any fashion sense."
"You don't." She began to poke through his closet. "Will does. On Will & Grace. And the guys on Queer Eye. Aren't you supposed to--"
"Stereotypes, Maria." He paused. "And what are you doing watching those shows?"
"Izzy and Sophia watch them," she said, "but don't tell Dad, because he wouldn't like it."
"No kidding." He ruffled her hair slightly. "You're my favorite sister."
"You're my favorite brother."
"I'm your only brother."
"Yeah. That makes it easy." She picked out a few shirts and tossed them on to his bed. "Will you visit sometimes?"
"If... If I can."
"Can I visit you?"
"Dad wouldn't like it."
"But I would."
Race kind of smiled again, and ruffled her hair. "You do what you can, and I'll do what I can. Okay?"
"Okay." She wrinkled her nose. "Sean is hot and everything, but why him? He's too skinny and he's a jerk. Why not Michael? He's nice."
Race shook his head. "Maria..."
"Are you sure you can't make it go away?"
There was another silence, and Race gave her a slight, stern glare. Because she would have to learn to see something she'd never accepted before in a whole new light.
"No. And I don't want to."
"Okay."
"But if I could stay with you, I would."
"Are you... Only leaving because of Sean?" she asked. "If it wasn't for Sean, you wouldn't be--"
"Maria, I'm gay."
He was surprised by how patient he felt; he knew he could say it as many times as he needed to. As many times as it took to make her understand, because he just couldn't stomach the thought of his little sister not understanding him.
"It's not a choice. It wasn't Sean, he didn't make me gay. I always have been--he's just the first boy I ever dated."
"Tony, that's gross."
"No, Maria, it isn't." He hoped she didn't know how much it hurt him to hear her talk like that. But at least she didn't say things intended to hurt him.
"It's weird."
"Not really. It's... Normal, for some people. And maybe it's weird to get used to, but if you can't get used to it, then I won't be able to visit you."
"I'll get used to it," she answered immediately. "You're my brother. You're weird anyway."
"Well, so are you."
And they were quiet after that for a few minutes, packing the suitcase until it was almost too full to shut. She had to sit on it to get it closed, and for a second it felt like he was getting ready for a trip or a vacation, not to leave his home forever.
But when he saw how empty his closet was, and glanced at the drumset he'd never get to use again, and the tissue box on his bed where Maria left it when she'd stopped crying, he knew it was forever. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going to go. He didn't know where he'd live or how he'd afford to live without his parents' help. But he was leaving.
Silently, he kneeled down and hugged Maria tightly again, as hard as he could. More than anything, right then, he wished he could stay. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving her in this house without him. Something about it wasn't right.
When he pulled away, she was crying again.
"Don't," she grabbed his sleeve, tugging on it childishly. "Don't go. You can talk to Daddy, you have to, Tony..."
Race bit his lip and stared up at the ceiling. "Maria..." he said in a choked voice. "I can't."
She hugged his arm, and then abruptly, let go and went for the door. "Sophie is gonna be mad."
"I know."
"And Izzy will yell at you."
"I know."
"And mom will cry."
Race didn't respond to that.
He'd made his mother cry more times in the past than he wanted to think about; this would just be one more. One more BIG one... He'd been too busy being unconscious when he'd overdosed to see her reaction to that, but he knew what it was anyway. His mother cried at everything, and when something that was actually important happened...
What kind of a person made his mother and his baby sister cry?
It was almost like an electrical surge, the sudden craving that overtook him, but for a change he knew exactly why. It wasn't even that he was freaked out about being kicked out of his home; it was because he felt like...
He felt like he deserved it. His parents had tried with him for so many years, had stood by him no matter what. He'd betrayed them when he'd started witch cocaine, and they'd forgiven him. He relapsed, and they not only forgave him, they were willing to let him join the band, have friends they didn't like, because they thought it would make him happy. And now he was gay, and that was what they considered the ultimate betrayal, they'd done nothing to deserve it but give him try after try to get his life together, and he'd responded by dating Spot.
Damn it, he wasn't going to cry; he wasn't going to lose it in front of Maria. No matter how much he wanted a line and no matter how much he wanted to go crawling to his father, begging forgiveness for being such a pathetic excuse for a son, he would NOT lose it in front of Maria.
But right at that moment, he hated himself more than he ever had before.
Maria opened the door, and took his hand tightly without looking at him. When she led him out, Sophia was standing at the top of the stairs.
When she looked at him, her cheeks were dry, but her eyes were red.
Sophia was not the type of girl that cried. And she may not have been doing it now, but she was close, and that was the closest Sophia and he had ever gotten to showing how much they really did love each other.
She sighed, and stepped towards him, still not doing anything.
"I told you they'd flip," Race said.
"I know..."
"I wish it was different, Sophie. But it's not."
"I know." She sounded like she was as close to breaking down as he was. "I'm not asking for you to fix it, Fratello. Don't--don't blame yourself..."
He shut his eyes lightly. Don't blame myself.
Right. The drugs had been his fuck up, this wasn't. No matter how much it FELT like it, this was genuinely not his fault. It was his parent's bigotry, not his homosexuality that was the problem. And if he tried hard, he actually sort of believed that.
He was going to miss Sophia so much it hurt. But he didn't know what else to say to her, so he pushed himself up onto his tiptoes for a second, so he could kiss her forehead, and then pulled her into a tight hug. She bit her lip and hugged him back, and really, they didn't need words.
So, suitcase in tow, he started down the stairs.
Isabella wasn't home. He hated that. He was almost positive she could have made this better, could have spoken to his father, could have done anything to make everything right. In the end, she was the oldest and he still had some sort of hero worship that led him to believe she would solve everything.
But nothing could solve this.
As he passed by the living room, he saw his mother, sitting in the couch, sobbing. She had her head in her hands and she looked so much smaller than usual.
"Mama?"
She didn't answer. She just cried. And this time, it really felt like the worst time he'd ever made her cry, because he wouldn't be there the next morning to make it up to her with breakfast and some stupid jokes. He was going, and somehow he knew that was the last thing Mrs. Higgins had ever wanted.
She loved him. His mother loved him, and it took this to make him realize it?
"Mama, I'm going..."
She let out a choked sound, and it almost sounded like he was killing her.
He looked in on her from the doorway, shaking slightly, one hand on the wall for support. "Mama?" he said, and she didn't look up at him. "Mama, I love you."
And she looked up at him then, and shook her head a little. "Just..." she said between sobs. "Just--go."
And he stared at her for a second, for the first time feeling as though he was betrayed, not the betrayer. Because his mother loved him, and part of her must have wanted him to stay--but at the same time, she was just as homophobic as his father, and no matter how much she loved him, his relationship with Spot was unforgivable.
He wondered if she could see his heart break.
A very malicious part of him hoped so.
But instead, he just nodded and lifted himself from the wall, picked up the suitcase, and walked out.
The door closed after him with a frightening finality.
F: Ooooh boy, sad chapter. Actually, B and I had an amazing time writing this one. We're very proud.
B: We like the way it came out a lot... Though yeah, the fluff is gone. It's pretty much all angst and doom from here on out. Something to look forward to, right?
F: -sniffle-
B: And by the by, the fic is now a year old. Oh, it just grew up so fast...
F: I really don't want it to end any time soon. So the next part won't be for a year!
B: Knowing us, that's about right...
Celebrated with Ben & Jerry's Fudge Brownie ice cream. Oh hells yeah.)