Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.

Warning: This story still contains slash. And drug use. And violence. And sexual situations. This isn't going to change as those four things are my favorite things.

Pairings: You'll find out.

Getting Back Together Again
Epilogue I: ASS or A Steadfast Sweetheart

"Sorry I'm late," Swifty said, his smile tight as he pulled out a chair across the table from Sarah. "I know it's not the best first date etiquette, but …" He frowned as he realized the topic he was about to bring up was also bad first date etiquette. My god, but he was bad at this.

"Swifty, you don't have to apologize for being late," Sarah said quietly, sipping at the coffee she had ordered over twenty minutes ago. "It was your cousin's funeral today, right? I told you that we could've met on a different day," she reminded him.

Swifty smirked at her. "And lose you to another guy again? I learned my lesson after you started seeing Itey; no more wasting time waiting for the perfect moment."

"Swifty," Sarah repeated, frowning at her date. "I appreciate the sentiment, but are you sure you aren't just using me as a distraction so you don't have to think about Slingshot?" She stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to speak. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you change the subject every time he comes up," she finally continued.

Swifty rose an eyebrow. "You really want this to be the topic of conversation? It's our first date. Can't we just save this for-"

"No sense wasting time for the perfect moment, right?" Sarah interrupted with a smirk before raising her hand to signal their waitress over.

Swifty sighed before asking for straight black coffee. He didn't say anything for several seconds before giving into Sarah's pointed look with a sigh. "I haven't decided how I feel about it yet, to be honest," he started. "Mostly it's just weird. My whole family's sad and depressed about it, even though we only found out he was a relative maybe a month ago, and I was the only one that actually went out of my way to meet him." He ran a hand through his hair. "Then there's the fact that he threatened my life … threatened all our lives, so I'm not exactly unhappy he's dead. And I actually saw him die. … Like, in front of my eyes, and that's a whole other level of weird I haven't even really thought about yet. And … and I guess instead of really being happy or sad that he's gone, I guess I'm more just … ashamed, I guess," he said with a shrug.

"Ashamed? Why would you be ashamed?" Sarah asked, leaning forward in her chair. They were both content to ignore the waitress as she came back to set Swifty's coffee on the table.

Swifty shrugged again. "He's family, you know? I guess I feel … " He trailed off has he bit his lip, staring down at the table. "Not responsible, exactly, but more like … I don't know. I guess more like it's something I need to make up for?" He looked up to see Sarah opening her mouth, more than likely to refute him, so he quickly pressed on. "He died a traitor. That's a blemish on our family name and a blemish on me, whether Sean feels the same or not. And no one from my family but me knows exactly what went on or why he's dead, and I certainly have no intention of telling any of them. So, that basically leaves it as my duty to make up for his indiscretions."

"Swifty, what happened wasn't your fault. You aren't responsible for the actions of others. It doesn't matter if you're blood or not."

Swifty shook his head. "But it does matter. At least in my family it does. Blood's everything to us. And betrayal is one of the worst things you can do to someone, so, it's like …" He shrugged before taking a sip of his coffee. "I know I need to make up for it somehow," he said confidently before going back to staring down at his coffee. "I can't think of how."

Sarah sighed before frowning at him. "I really don't understand how it's your fault someone else decided to be a douche, even if that person is a family member." She held up a hand as Swifty opened his mouth to interrupt her. "But to each their own," she continued. "I'm certainly not going to judge you just because we have a different viewpoint."

Swifty smirked at her. "God damn, you really did grow up, didn't you? I've kind of been avoiding telling anyone about it, because I was pretty certain they weren't going to understand." He shrugged. "Not that I don't think they wouldn't mean well. I just didn't want the argument. With things like this, you either understand it or you don't; there's no arguing someone over to your side."

"So, what's the plan then?" Sarah asked, smirking at him as she took another sip of her coffee. "You have one, right? Or at least a few ideas? I don't think you'd be worried about arguing with anyone about this unless you did."

Swifty sighed. "You are too observant for your own good." He looked around the cafe before placing his coffee over to the side and leaning over the table to whisper to Sarah. "I was thinking about offering my services to Spot."

Sarah's eyes widened as she drew back in her seat. "Offering your services? As in …"

"As in joining up," Swifty finished for her with a nod of his head. "In Slingshot's place. To make up for what he did. If he lets me, anyway. I haven't exactly gauged how he feels about me yet. He's only ever glared at me, really, but he glares at everyone, so that's not really any indication of anything."

"Swifty, you can't …" Sarah started only to stop and bite her lip. She stared at the table before glancing back up at Swifty. "I can't tell you what to do and what not to do. I know that, and I'm not going to try. But I can't date someone in that line of business. It's … it's dangerous, for one. And illegal for another. And … " She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Swifty, but I just can't."

Swifty forced out a hollow sounding laugh as he nodded. "Right. No. I should have figured, really. It's not like you're wrong for wanting to keep out of it. Can't say I've ever been dumped before the first date was even over with though."

Sarah shook her head, back to looking down at the table. "I'm sorry, Swifty. I really am. But I can't just …"

"You can't date someone in that line of business," Swifty finished. "I understand." He fished a twenty out of his pocket and set it on the table before pushing out of his chair. "That should cover the coffees. I'm going to get out of here. I'll see you later, Sarah."

Sarah spent the next twenty minutes watching her coffee turn cold.

"Dude, I don't know why you want to go into this," Jack told his friend before shooting a basketball from the three-point line. He smirked as he heard the swoosh. "Nothing but net," he bragged before running to retrieve the ball and tossing it over to Swifty.

"Brag while you can," Swifty allowed, walking over to where Jack had stood before he sunk the ball. "You think I can't hack it working under Spot?" he asked before shooting the ball and making the basket.

They were playing on a court just a view blocks off from the hotel, on one of Jack's very rare breaks. Still, Jack was more than happy to be out and running around. The basement had become packed out with displaced boys from the Bronx. Some of them were even sleeping on the floor until Spot could secure them more bunk beds. It was a mad house, and between the daily training and the literal fist fights for the bathroom, Jack wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it.

"I'm not sure I much longer I can hack it, dude," Jack answered back, grabbing the ball and dribbling it over to the half court line. "It's fucking chaos since we took in all those displaced Bronx guys. We've already got people sleeping on the floor. We don't have enough bathrooms as it is, and the ones we do have keep getting stopped up. I feel like all I ever do is train, clean, and go to school." He tossed the ball and winced when it hit the rim and bounced out.

"Says the guy playing basketball right now," Swifty pointed out before running after the ball. "And I want to join in order to redeem my family name in the eyes of Spot. I'm not doing it for the fun time."

"Well, good, because there are literally zero fun times," Jack replied has he grabbed the ball Swifty threw his way and made a lay up.

Swifty frowned at him. "You think I'm being stupid, don't you?"

"Never said that," Jack answered back, dribbling the ball back over to where Swifty was standing.

"You don't have to say it," Swifty answered, crossing his arms. "I can tell by that look on your face."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to support you by not telling you what a dumb idea I think this is, dude. But that's really hard if you're going to call me out on it." He stopped dribbling in order to look at his friend head on.

"I don't think this is a dumb idea at all," Swifty replied, glaring. "And you're a shitty person for making me feel like it is."

"That's why I wasn't saying anything!" Jack snapped. "You wanna do this? Then fucking do it. I'm not your mother, dude."

Swifty immediately dropped his glare at Jack's yelling. "Well, why do you think it's a bad idea?" he asked meekly before regaining some of his composure. "Not that it is a bad idea."

Jack rolled his eyes again. "You think this thing you just started with Sarah is going to hold up to you becoming a gang member? You think you're going to be able to balance it out with school? What about your family? How do you plan on explaining to them why you're moving out at seventeen? And do you even realize the living conditions I have to put up with? Have you seen where I sleep? Have you seen my sorry excuse for a bed?"

"This is about honor , Jack. You're talking about trivial things," Swifty replied before shrugging. "I don't care where I sleep, or if I'm in cramped living conditions. I can figure out the school thing. And I can think of something to tell my mom. And Sarah already told me she can't accept this," He paused briefly before finally shrugging. "So, I'll never really get my chance, I guess. And that's fine, because family's more important."

Jack frowned at his friend. "Alright, fine," he said with a shrug. "Let's go then." He threw the basketball he had been holding over his shoulder and started heading out of the park.

Swifty watched the ball roll away before quickly following after his friend. "Go where?" he asked. He shot another look towards the basketball that was getting farther away. "Aren't you going to get that?" he asked, pointing.

"Nah, I stole that ball on my way here," he replied with a shrug. "Just donating it back to the community."

"Oh, yeah, okay," Swifty said, frowning at his friend. "You know, if you didn't have a basketball I could have brought one of mine. And … exactly where are we going?"

Jack threw a look over his shoulder so Swifty could see him roll his eyes. "You wanna join up, right? Well, step one is to talk to Spot about it."

"Fuck off," Spot replied as soon as Jack had explained the situation. He crossed his arms as he glared at both of them. "You two have to be fucking retarded or some shit. I don't give a fuck who that piece of shit was to you; it's got nothing to do with you."

Racetrack leaned forward from behind Spot, putting his chin on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. "That means, 'thanks, but no thanks,' in case you were having trouble translating out the asshole."

Spot turned his head to glare even as he leaned back into him. "It means , 'fuck the fucking hell off,'" he snapped. "You don't have enoughworthless people to train right now? You want to give yourself even more fucking work?" he asked.

"You're going to turn down a perfectly loyal guy because you think one more person to train is going to overwork me?" Racetrack asked back. "That's not a valid reason, and you know it."

"Good thing it's not your job to determine if my reasons are valid or not then, isn't it?" Spot snapped, drawing away from Racetrack and continuing to glare at him.

Racetrack rose an eyebrow at him as he crossed his arms. "As your second-in-command you don't think it's my job to tell you whether you have a stupid idea or not?"

"As my second-in-command I don't think it's your job to tell me anything." Spot growled out.

"And as your boyfriend?" Racetrack replied, matching Spot's glare. "Can I tell you I think you're being stupid as your boyfriend, or is that against the rules, too, Boss ?"

"Why the fuck do you think you can get away with everything just because I'm fucking you?" Spot snapped. "It's not a free pass, you fucking retard."

"And ruling over a group of orphans in Brooklyn doesn't make you king of everything," Racetrack pointed out. "And stop calling everyone a fucking retard. It's offensive as fuck."

"Then don't call my people fucking orphans!"

"Calling someone an orphan isn't an insult, you dumbass," Racetrack snapped, his voice growing along with his frustration.

Jack tapped on Swifty's shoulder and jerked his head toward the hotel. "Let's go. I can show you around," he offered before walking towards the lobby. "They always do this shit," he muttered as he walked farther away from the arguing couple and pushed his way through the lobby doors. "It'll be awhile before they remember that other people do, in fact, still exist."

"Spot and Race going at it again?" Speed asked, coming down the lobby steps and catching the tail end of the conversation.

"Are they going at it or are they going at it ?" Hunter asked from behind him with a giant smirk plastered across his face. "You know what I'm saying?"

Jack rolled his eyes as he brushed past them. "Everyone knows what you're saying, Hunter," he replied. He leaned toward Swifty. "It's not exactly a new joke."

"You know, Spot's going to flip when he realizes you let a nongang member in here," Speed warned. "You remember what happened the last time."

"You mean when the Bronx gang broke into the hotel and all the nongang members helped save your guys' asses?" Jack snapped. He had paused his walk upstairs to turn and glare at Speed.

Speed smirked at him. "I was talking about after that. When Spot made you run five miles in one night, and you told everyone that Spot had to be on a killing spree because, clearly, he was trying to kill you. Remember that?"

"Don't know how I could forget," Jack muttered, sending a dark look towards the front doors where he could still see Spot out in the parking lot continuing his argument with Racetrack. He turned back to Speed. "Swifty's about to become a member anyway," he explained. "So it doesn't matter that he's in here."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Speed asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "You think this is my first rodeo or something? Spot's not going to let another new person join when we're filled to the brim with Bronx boys. We're over capacity as it is."

Jack smirked at him. "That's not what Racetrack just said."

"Oh, Jesus we're doing this again?" Speed asked, rolling his eyes.

Swifty looked between the two of them. "Doing what again?"

"I got a c-note on Spot!" Hunter called out, holding up a crumpled hundred dollar bill he had just fished out from his pocket. "He never loses."

"Never lost ," Jack immediately correctly. "Then he met my dude Race. Guy's a goner."

"Too bad you don't have any money to bet with, seeing as how you lost it all putting it on Racetrack the last time," Hunter said with a smirk. "Know why you lost it? Because my boy never loses!"

Jack turned to pester Swifty for some cash as Speed frowned at Hunter. "Dude, don't call Spot your boy. Are you being fucking serious right now? He's going to strangle you if he hears you talking like that."

"Oh, please. Spot's head is so far up Racetrack's ass-"

" Hunter !" Speed interrupted with a shout. "Watch it!"

"I don't understand," Swifty admitted to Jack quietly. "Are you betting on whether or not Spot'll let me join up?"

Jack smirked at him. "We're betting on who will win the argument," he explained, jerking his head toward the parking lot where they were still going at it. "Spot and Race have been arguing since Racetrack took the second-in-command position." His voice picked up volume as he continued. "Racetrack always wins, but these idiots won't accept it yet."

"You're delusional!" Hunter declared, turning his attention away from Speed. "Who's the one down money right now? Because it certainly isn't me."

Swifty looked from Jack to Hunter and then back again. "Your boy's got nothing on my boy," he declared as he took out his wallet. "I got fifty on Race."

Just a few hours later Swifty found himself fifty dollars richer and quickly approaching death as he ran suicides across the parking lot with the rest of the new recruits.

"You're the one who fucking asked for this," Racetrack kept reminding him every time he lagged behind. "Don't turn into a pussy now and make me look bad."

An eighth of the recruits had already deserted during the training session, and if it hadn't been for Jack shooting him encouraging smiles and edging him on Swifty couldn't be sure that he wouldn't have joined them.

He collapsed on the ground as soon as Racetrack called a two-minute water break.

"Sorry," Jack said, breathing heavily as he sat down beside his friend and passed him a water bottle. "I guess I should have warned you that whoever wins the argument is usually pretty bitter afterward." He shot a look over to a fuming Racetrack and a smirking Spot. "On the upside, at least Spot's in a good mood. You really don't wanna see him pissed off."

" Wins the argument?" Swifty asked, trying and failing to catch his breath. He held on to the water bottle, but didn't have the energy to bring it all the way to his mouth. "Shouldn't that be the other way around?"

Jack shook his head. "Nope. Whatever kind of bartering system they've got going on for the arguments must be awful, because I've never seen either of them happy to win."

"I don't think I've ever seen Race this pissed off," Swifty replied. "Fuck, he's acting like he hates me."

"Don't let it get to you. Totally normal. I swear," Jack replied before getting back up. He offered Swifty a hand. "C'mon, get up. You really don't want to be lying on the ground when Racetrack decides the two-minute break is over."

"A two-minute water break," Swifty muttered, allowing Jack to pull him up. "I haven't even caught my breath yet."

"I'd embrace it," Jack said. "This is going to pale in comparison to whatever Spot decides to do to you for making him lose an argument." He smirked at his friend. "Welcome to the gang, dude. Told you it wasn't something you wanted to get into," he said before jogging to where the other recruits were clustered.

Swifty was pretty sure he'd just signed his own death sentence.

Two weeks later found Swifty a lot happier and no longer expecting death. Sarah still wasn't talking to him in more than one-syllable words (or Jack, either, for that matter), and that had hurt more than he thought it would. He kept reminding himself that this was more important. He was making up for his family's mistakes, and it was his duty to see it through.

And he had found out that Racetrack had bargained so Swifty could go home at night, which was a huge relief on multiple levels. Mostly, he was happy he wouldn't have to think of a lie to tell his parents to justify him moving out before he was even eighteen. He was also extremely happy that he didn't have to live in the dingy basement, despite the fact that most of his free time was spent there.

He was there currently, sitting on the dirty floor as he, Skittery, and Jack all played poker. Currently, he was down twenty dollars, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. All-in-all, life was pretty good. His friendship with Jack was the strongest it had ever been, and he was quickly relearning his friendships with Skittery and Racetrack. (Swifty was pleased to see that, when Racetrack hadn't just won an argument, he was just as pleasant as he'd always been.)

"I haven't seen that fat bozo anywhere," Skittery said, talking about one of the Bronx recruits. "He defaulted. I'm sure of it," he said as he threw three red chips into the pile they were sitting around. He and Jack had been arguing over everyone that had left since Racetrack had taken up the training for the new recruits. The most Swifty could gather from it was that he should be glad he had never had to train under his cousin or Spot. Training under Spot, he kept getting assured, was coming, but so far Spot hadn't given him a second look since his first day.

"He was in the cafeteria yesterday, you idiot. You just don't pay attention to anyone who isn't Itey," Jack pointed out as he matched Swifty's three red chips. "Speaking of Itey, just where did you go last night at two o'clock in the morning? He called and you came running? You're so whipped, dude."

"Speaking of late night frolicks, don't think I didn't hear you talking on the phone to David before I left," Skittery shot back before throwing his hand into the pile of chips. "I may or may not be whipped, but at least I'm having sex with the person who may or may not be whipping me."

"Haven't I already told you that I don't wanna hear about your and Itey's sex life?" Racetrack asked from the door. He held up a hand as Skittery opened his mouth to speak. "Already got way too much information, there, Skitts. I certainly don't need anymore."

"Amen," Jack muttered before shooting a smirk to Swifty. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Boss? Don't tell me you lowered yourself all the way to the basement just to hang out with lil ole us?"

Racetrack stuck his nose in the air. "You may be simple peasants, but as your second-in-command it's my job to ensure even the most insignificant ants feel important," he said sarcastically before sitting down next to Skittery and reaching for the spare chips. "What's the deal in?"

"Twenty bucks starts ya with two hundred. Big blinds ten," Swifty replied. "This is Jack's second buy in," he added with a smirk.

"He's about to have a third," Racetrack shot back.

"Big talk for a man that walked out of here with an empty wallet last time," Jack said with a smirk.

"How's it going running around with the big boys?" Swifty asked. "Your mom still buy that Spot's helping you study?"

"He is helping me study," Racetrack insisted.

"Yeah, the male anatomy," Skittery muttered. He smirked when Racetrack visibly colored.

"Watch it," Race said, frowning at Skittery. "Spot'll flip out on you if he hears you talking like that."

Jack rolled his eyes. "The dude pressed you up against a wall and started making out with you during the last peace talk with the Bronx when they asked him why he didn't have a problem with gays. I don't think he's trying to keep it a secret."

"Not keeping it a secret and allowing it to be belittled are two different things," Racetrack pointed out.

Skittery cocked his head to the side. "I wasn't belittling it. I think it's adorable he's trying to tutor you when he's failing basically every single subject."

"Even gym," Jack pointed out. "Which is a feat all on its own."

"Only because he's always skipping," Racetrack defended with a mutter.

"We're just making sure you're okay," Swifty said with a smile. "Making sure you're actually studying after you and Spot do whatever it is you twocall studying."

"Think I'm too stupid to know how to study?" Spot asked from the doorway, making Swifty visibly jump before tensing up.

"Th-that's not what I meant," Swifty assured him, his eyes wide.

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to intimidate my friends, Spot. It's not attractive." He leaned back against Spot who was now standing behind him.

"Stop trying to talk down to me in front of my members," Spot replied, frowning down at where Racetrack was sitting at his feet.

Racetrack dropped his hand to look up at Spot, wearing his own frown as he guessed at the reason why Spot had come to the basement. "I thought you promised you wouldn't take Swifty out until after the poker match."

"I did," Spot answered with a shrug. "Then I changed my mind."

Racetrack lept up from his place on the floor and spun around to face Spot as soon as he saw the other man start to smirk. "You can't just promise something and then take it back like that!"

Spot rose an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I can. You're the one who insisted on getting your way the last argument. I'm just collecting on one of the many debts."

Racetrack continued to glare as he crossed his arms. " This is what you're deciding to piss me off with? You're just doing this to be an ass."

"So?" Spot answered before looking over at Swifty. "Up and at 'em, slugger. We're going out." He didn't wait for a response as he turned around and headed for the door, not sparing Racetrack a second glance.

"He's such a dick," Racetrack griped before sitting back down. He turned his attention to Swifty. "Sorry. I was going to try to warn you about tonight, but no doubt Spot was trying to prevent that."

"Prevent what?" Swifty asked, looking towards the door and then back at Racetrack with wide eyes. He had yet to move from his position on the floor. "Warn me about what?"

Skittery reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Initiation time, friend. Way harder than Race's training."

"Hey!" Racetrack interrupted, indignant.

"No sense acting like it's not true," Jack replied on Skittery's behalf. "Sean's a monster."

Racetrack sighed as he frowned some more. "I'll get some ice packs for when you get back," he muttered.

"I don't understand the point of this," Swifty huffed as he scaled down a building they had just climbed up. "What're we doing?"

"What the fuck does it look like we're doing?" Spot called out, already on the next roof as Swifty was just touching onto the ground from the last one.

Swifty glared up at him, not bothering to climb yet another fire escape. He crossed his arms as his chest heaved. "It looks like I'm wasting my god damn time."

"I'd say the same thing," Spot answered with a nod. "So go the fuck home then," he offered before disappearing from sight, most likely climbing down the other side of the building.

Swifty blinked once before hurrying after him, strength renewed. "Is that what this is about? You're trying to make me do useless stuff until you finally run me out of Brooklyn?"

"I'm not trying to make you do anything," Spot answered, already on the wall of the next building, this time climbing window sills in the absence of any fire escape.

And how the hell was that even possible ?

"I am successfully running you out of Brooklyn, judging by the sound of those weak ass lungs of yours," Spot continued with a smirk.

"I thought this was supposed to be some intense, hardcore initiation thing," Swifty said, trying his hardest to catch up to Spot. "That's what Skittery said. Something to test my loyalty. How is this testing my loyalty?"

Spot crossed his arms and glared down at him from the three-story-building he was sure Swifty wasn't going to be able to follow him up. "Why should I test your loyalty when I know you don't have any?"

"Is this about Slingshot?" Swifty yelled, finally landing on the ground. He immediately started up the next building without a second thought, fueled by anger. "I'm trying to redeem my family name! How dare you think that I'd betray you! Just because we're cousins doesn't mean we're the same person!"

"Yeah, you fucking idiot," Spot snapped. "That's what I told you the first time you came to me with this stupid as fuck plan."

"Huh?" Swifty asked, looking up at Spot as his anger disappeared. His hand slipped on a window sill he hadn't griped properly and his eyes widened as he started to fall.

Spot dived off the roof after him, quickly snatching Swifty's shirt collar with one hand and a window sill with the other. "Watch it, doofus," he snapped, forcing Swifty close to the wall. "Climb the fuck down before you fall to your death and Racetrack gets all pissy at me for it."

"Gee, thanks for the concern," Swifty replied, rolling his eyes even as his heart clamored in his chest as he climbed down. Spot didn't loosen his grip from his shirt collar until his feet found solid ground, a fact Swifty was extremely grateful for. "I don't understand why you have such a problem with me joining. Why don't you trust me?"

"Why are you so fixated on fixing mistakes that aren't yours?" Spot replied, crossing his arms and frowning at the other boy.

"Because it's my mistake to correct!" Swifty snapped. "Slingshot was family! It's my duty to-"

"And what the fuck do you think shit like that means to me?" Spot shouted right back. "You think I give a good god damn fuck who your family is? You think I give a fuck that it was your fucking cousin that fucked me over?" Spot glowered at him before continuing. "And, moreover, the only loyalty you'll ever prove doing shit this way is loyalty to your fucking family. And I don't give a good god damn fuck about loyalty if I'm not the one benefitting from it."

"I can be loyal to you by being loyal to me family," Swifty yelled, gesturing wildly now that he finally felt safe back on solid ground.

"Until your family decides I can go fuck myself, and you betray me just like Slingshot did," Spot finished, his voice cracking over 'Slingshot". He growled before punching the brick wall they had just climbed down, feeling better despite the fact that it did nothing but make his knuckles bleed.

Swifty's eyes widened as he watched Spot start pacing furiously. "I know how much it affected you," he said quietly. "I was there; I saw it. And it hurt me, too. Let me-"

"Fuck off already," Spot snapped, stopping his pacing and whirling around to face him. "I wasn't hurt, you fucktard. I just don't want your worthless ass anywhere around my gang. You're just an extra mouth to feed, and-"

"And I remind you too much of Slingshot," Swifty finished for him, his voice calm as understanding washed over his face.

Spot, on the other hand, wasn't calmed in the slightest. "You're a fucking idiot," he pointed out. "No, it's not because you remind me of that assface. I don't want you because you have no skills. What can you do for me? Fucking nothing."

Swifty frowned at him. "I can fight just as good as Jack and Skittery."

"They're worthless, too," Spot replied, his face still fixed in a snarl, though he was no longer shouting. "Except with them I don't have to worry about their fucking families tracking them down wondering where they are."

"You have to worry about that with Racetrack," Swifty pointed out. "Probably have to worry about that with him more than anyone else in New York. His mom's got some pretty major attachment issues."

"I fucking know," Spot muttered under his breath before the snarl finally slipped from his face. "Racetrack's … he's an exception."

"Because you want to bone him?" Swifty asked, grinning now.

Spot glared back. "Because I am boning him," he corrected. He looked the other boy up and down. "And you aren't my type, so you're definitely not going to be able to go that route."

"Spot-"

"Go home, Swifty," Spot demanded, finally turning away. "Go back to your family or find a girl to distract you or some shit. Just stay the fuck out of my gang."

Swifty blinked at his back, wondering if this was what Racetrack meant when he insisted that Spot was a sweetheart under his thick exterior. Not that he would ever let Spot in on that little fact about himself.

"Sorry I'm late," Swifty said, his smile tight as he pulled out a chair across the table from Sarah. "I know it's not the best date etiquette, but …" He frowned as he realized the topic he was about to bring up was also bad first date etiquette. My god, but he was bad at this.

"Swifty, you don't have to apologize for being late," Sarah said quietly, sipping at the coffee she had ordered over twenty minutes ago. "You were over hanging out with Jack and Skittery again, weren't you? I told you that we could've met on a different day," she reminded him.

Swifty smirked at her. "Jack insists on hanging out everyday, you know that. I think he's afraid he's going to lose me to you."

Sarah smiled around her coffee cup as she took a sip. "Not likely if you're perpetually late to every single one of our dates."

"Again, completely Jack's fault," Swifty declared, raising his hands in surrender.

Sarah sighed as the smile slipped from her face. "How are things going over there, anyway? You haven't changed your mind about not joining, have you? Spot's not giving you a hard time about being over there when you aren't a member?"

Swifty shrugged, looking at the ground as he bit his lip. "Nah, Spot's been pretty cool, honestly." He frowned. "Well, cooler than he was in the past. ...Relatively cool, I guess, is what I should say." He shrugged again. "And I guess Spot's point is finally starting to make sense."

Sarah cocked her head to the side. "And what point is that?"

"That I can't actually be loyal to him if I'm only loyal to him because I'm loyal to my family," Swifty answered, focused on the coffee cup in front of him. "And if I was really loyal to my family then I wouldn't be trying to join the gang in the first place, since that isn't what they'd want from me."

"Sounds like a catch-22."

Swifty nodded, still not looking at Sarah. "Yeah, Spot said it made his head hurt to think about." He gave a slight smile as he glanced up. "Said anything that was that confusing belonged in Manhattan."

Sarah rose an eyebrow. "Glad he thinks so highly of us."

Swifty shrugged again, his smile growing. "He may have also mentioned how big of an idiot I am for spending so much time in Brooklyn when I've got a terrific girl waiting for me in Manhattan."

Sarah smirked at him. "Swifty, I know Spot well enough to know that he didn't say that ."

"Racetrack translated it for me," Swifty admitted. "The exact words may have focused around how I'm a dumbass and you have self esteem issues."

"Alright, now, that I can believe," Sarah replied with a laugh.

Swifty grinned at her. "Point being , I'm going to lay off Brooklyn and focus on you. Because I really want to make this work, Sarah."

Sarah reached for Swifty's hand that had been resting on the table. "Swifty," she replied with a soft smile, "let's not get sappy, okay?"

TBC