Second chapter, and I'm not bothered by the fact that not many read the first one; most people don't read the first chapters of stories cause they end up never getting finished; that's why I'm posting in a timely manner. :) But hopefully the second one get's more headway and thank you to the lovely that did review!

Well, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I am no one, therefore I own nothing, and never will. :(

Oh! If you couldn't tell, Sean = Spot & Tony = Racetrack :D

Prompt: A wicker basket, a new doll, and someone's grandmother

Sean coughed into his arm as a new cloud of dust appeared in his face, "Good God, Tony! When's the last time somebody's been up here?" he asked, and looked around at the boxes stacked to the ceiling of the rickety attic. When he agreed help his boyfriend go through his grandmother's discarded things before they moved into her old house (she had decided to move to Florida after her husband died, but wanted the house to stay in the family) he did not anticipate that she was such a pack rat.

Tony's grandmother was a sweet, little Italian woman and Sean never, in his wildest dreams, could have thought she had owned so much useless junk. Tony turned to him, a bandana already covering his face to avoid breathing in the dust, asbestos, and probably everything else that resided in an eighty year old attic, "I don't know, see when the last box was labeled for and that was probably it." He laughed, knowing his Nonie hadn't thrown anything out in the last century. She didn't even throw out her old food; she was big into compost for some reason…

As they spent hours digging through her junk they pulled out many random objects and each surprised them more than the last. Tony had found his mothers kindergarten report card, a pair of socks his great grandmother had knitted, and a feather pen his Nonie claimed was from the Civil War (neither boy had the heart to tell her it had "MADE IN CHINA" printed on the side of it).

Eventually Tony found a wicker basket and threw it on the pile of junk in which they would throw away, he had been throwing things over his shoulder aimlessly and had not realized Sean was standing right behind him as he did this, "SHIT!" Sean exclaimed as he rubbed his head where the offending carrier had hit him.

Tony turned around and instantly felt bad, "Oh! Spot! I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" he asked and stood up, walking over to his boyfriend and hugging him in apology.

"Alright, Tony, you know what you deserve for that?" Spot asked with an evil smirk. Tony raised an eyebrow and Spot pulled out a porcelain doll he had found about an hour back that he was waiting the perfect time to bring out. Tony had a horrible phobia of the dolls and he immediately shrieked and ran across the room.

"SEAN! PUT THAT AWAY! BURN IT! THROW IT AWAY! DO SOMETHING WITH IT!" he exclaimed and pressed himself up against the wooden wall.

"But Tony! She's still in her packaging! She's like brand new!" Tony laughed and inspected the doll more carefully, Tony just stood wide eyed and yelled at him to put it away, "Aw, the poor dolly!" Spot laughed and shook it at Tony a little, mockingly, "Toooonnyyy!" He said in a high pitched voice and rocked the doll back and forth to make her eyes open and close.

"No! Seriously! Get it away from me! Ahh!" he screamed as Sean started moving toward him and ran away to the opposite corner of the room.

"Oh, come on, Tony! She's still in the box! Think of it like a prison she cannot be released from!" he laughed and Tony shook his head.

"Just get it awayyy." Tony whined and looked at Spot pleadingly; who shrugged with a smile and threw it into the pile of things that would be thrown away.

"Alright, Tony, it's okay, I'll protect you from the big, bad dolly." Sean smiled as he tried to move closer to his boyfriend, only to make Tony blow a large cloud of dust at him; throwing him into a coughing fit.

They both laughed and tried to get back at one another playfully until Tony's Nonie finally called up to them, asking them if they wanted three bowls of pasta or five; each of them rolling their eyes and walking back down the stairs covered in dust.

Whelp, there we go!

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