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Chapter Text

Racetrack’s feet pounded the metal stairs, causing a cacophony of clanging as they shifted against the other metal. He was out of breath, but he needed to get to Snyder as soon as he could. Snyder wouldn’t be happy with the news, that’s why Race had to be the one to tell him.

He had fucked up. That was the simplest way of saying it. In the end, he did his job, but Snyder wouldn’t care about that as much as the fact that he got sloppy.

Kill Jack Kelly. That was his mission. That’s what he did. The problem was that Race didn’t realize Davey Jacobs would be there too. Davey was one of Snyder’s lower-ranking “button” men, and he was apparently dating Kelly. Of course, this was technically Davey’s fault, he should have known who Kelly was, but Race would be punished for killing him too when he tried to defend Kelly. Davey couldn’t have known who Race was, he was way too high up and too important. He couldn’t have known that Kelly was to be killed, Davey was too low to know about important missions like this. Race should have known there was someone else there, he had been watching him the past two months. He hadn’t seen Davey around once in that time, so he was confused about it. There was nothing to be done now, he just had to wait for Snyder’s reaction.

Reaching the top, Race paused a minute to breathe, and to figure out what exactly to tell Snyder. Deciding to wing it, he knocked on the door quietly. It immediately opened with a gun in his face, until the person behind the door recognized him.

“Racer? What’re you doing here?” Albert asked. “Boss isn’t expecting you ‘till tomorrow.”

“I know, but there’s a slight complication and I need to talk to him. Let me in quick before someone sees me standing here,” Race said with annoyance in his voice. Albert was a good soldier but sometimes he didn’t think of the basic measures he needed to take constantly.

“Of course, right,” he quickly let Race in and shut the door behind. Race didn’t wait for Albert and headed straight for Snyder’s office. He knocked quickly on the door, waiting to be asked in.

“Come in,” Snyder called.

Race slipped inside, glaring at Albert as he shut the door, to make sure he wouldn’t try to listen in.

“Race? Did something happen?” Snyder asked, concern just slightly evident in his calm voice. Race took a deep breath and launched into his story.

“Jack Kelly is dead,” he started. “The problem is, Davey Jacobs is too.”

“Davey Jacobs? The button man?” Snyder asked.

“Yes, he was in bed with Kelly,” Race confirmed. “Literally in bed I mean. When I went into Kelly's apartment, I found him in his bed, sleeping, but Davey was there too. I got Kelly right away and was about to wake Davey to tell him what was going on, but he woke up and freaked out, and then attacked me when he realized what I did. When it escalated I did my instinct, which was to kill Davey.”

“I see,” Snyder said, his voice giving Race no clues. “How did Jacobs get into this apartment undetected? You’ve been watching Kelly for the past two months, have you not?”

“I’m not sure about that, Boss, I haven’t seen Davey anywhere in the past two months. I definitely didn’t see him go into the apartment tonight, it doesn’t make sense.”

Snyder didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and Race didn’t dare keep talking. He seemed like he was debating something, and then he suddenly spoke.

“You did well, Racer. You completed your mission, and when complications arose, you acted on your instinct and training. That’s good. It also shows me that I was right in picking you for your next job. I was going to wait to tell you, but now seems like the right time.” Race was confused as to why Snyder wasn’t mad, but the satisfaction he felt at Snyder’s approval overshadowed it.

“Thank you, Boss, I will do my absolute best to do it to your satisfaction.”

“I know you will. Your job is to take down Spot Conlon.”

“The Spot Conlon?” Race asked, completely dumbfounded. “You want me to handle Spot Conlon?”

“Unless you think you wouldn’t be suited to the job,” Snyder said with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course,” Race said, checking himself. “I was just surprised you thought of me for it. It’s such a big and important job. I’m very honored.”

“Good,” Snyder said. “You will start on it Monday, take the rest of the weekend to relax, you’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, Boss,” Race said, moving towards the door. “Have a good weekend!” Snyder just waved him off. Race moved back towards the exit with a pep in his step.

“Everything alright?” Albert asked him when he passed.

“It is, I’m going home now, don’t expect me until Monday.”

“Okay, have a good weekend,” Albert called after him as Race walked out the door.

He ran down the steps and walked through a few alleys until he got to his little apartment building. It looked run-down from the outside but the inside was cozy. Race was barely there anyways, he only really needed it for an alibi, so he got the cheapest one he could. It was perfect for the maybe three nights per month he spent there, and the rent was the cheapest you could get without being on the streets.

Race couldn’t complain about his life. He was well taken care of as part of Snyder’s crew, he had plenty of money and plenty of “friends,” if you could call them that. They were family, which meant they looked out for each other no matter what. He didn’t have to like them all the time, though, and plenty of them got angry with him. That’s how families worked, Race figured.

As for blood family, Race didn’t really have anyone. Anyone except Snyder. Snyder was his uncle, so he took Race in and basically raised him. Of course, that meant that Race was raised in the care of the leader of Manhattan’s biggest organized crime group. Snyder didn’t like the label “mafia” because even though he was Italian, they all were, he didn’t want to be known for being Italian, he wanted to be known for what he did. Race understood that.

Race didn’t really mind his work, he grew up doing it, and he didn’t know any better. As long as he didn’t think about the dead, unseeing eyes of people after he killed them, he was okay. He was one of the best people Snyder had, probably because of Snyder raising him himself.

Button men were the ones who killed people that someone at the top - usually Snyder - wanted dead. They were only given lesser people to kill, however, the important ones were given to higher-ups. Davey Jacobs was a low button man, who would kill someone like Jack Kelly’s foot soldiers. Race, however, was in Snyder’s closest group. Race was to kill Jack Kelly because he was becoming too much of a competitor for Snyder. This made Race technically just a very high ranking button man, but he wasn’t actually given a title.

Only other people in Snyder’s close group and a few select others knew who Race was since he did a lot of undercover work. He either watched people in order to take them down in the cleanest possible way or he went undercover in the ranks of the other groups to get a clean shot at his target.

Race wasn’t stupid, he knew other members tended to be terrified of him. He grew up being trained for exactly what he did and he was good at it. He could kill people without batting an eye, and he did it cleanly. Less bloodshed, less ability for the police to track him down personally. Not that Snyder didn’t have most of the police in his pocket already, but Snyder did teach him to err on the side of caution.

Racer flopped onto his bed and turned his TV on. He switched through channels until he found the one he was looking for. The other members would probably die of shock if they knew that the “heartless Racetrack Higgins” watched the nature channel in his free time. Seeing the baby animals and watching people rescue wild creatures is what really kept Race going. It helped him to know that there were some decent people left in the world, and it gave him a purpose to weed out some of the worse people. Of course, he knew that he was one of the bad people, essentially a cold killing machine, but he also knew that in some way, he was doing a good thing.

Race fell asleep watching the nature channel, it was the only way he could sleep anymore. As per usual, his sleep was plagued by nightmares. It was always the same ones, only the faces changed. Whomever he most recently killed would wake up and come after him. He would try again and again to kill them but he always woke up right before they slit his own throat.

When he woke up from this nightmare, both Kelly and Davey coming after him, Race went to his little kitchenette and made himself a sandwich. He wouldn’t be getting back to sleep for a while, so he went back to sit on his bed and watch some TV. The nature channel was showing some predatory animals, which reminded him too much of his nightmare, so Race switched to the cooking channel and watched that for a while.

Finally, around 7 a.m., Race got up. Since he wouldn’t have to start on the Conlon job until the next day, he decided to go to the training arena for a few hours. He rarely had time to get training in recently, since he was usually on a job. Race got dressed and walked through the alleys until he reached a shifty looking building, similar to the one he talked to Snyder in yesterday. He slipped inside once he was sure there was nobody around.

The training arena was rather like a fitness gym, with different ways to work out. There was also a large area in the middle where they could physically fight each other. Race headed to that area, where there was already a fight going on between two button men, Mike and Ike. When Ike had Mike pinned, he called out to them.

“Either of ya wanna go against me?” They looked at each other, and Mike stepped over the rope they used as a wall, while Ike stayed where he was.

When they were both in position, Ike lunged at Race. Ike got a few good hits in before Race had him pinned. He let him up and they shook hands. Mike decided to give it a try too. The same thing happened as with Ike.

This was too easy for Racer. He knew they were doing their best and they were definitely good, he was just better. He left them to continue training with each other and decided to run for a while. They had a treadmill in the arena but Race tended to just run laps around the inside of the building, that way he could change his pace easier.

After he ran a good few laps and was starting to get winded, one of the people that stayed as guards came up to him. Race slowed down and jogged back to where he was standing.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Not sure,” the guard started. “Boss called and asked for you. He said you were to take a shower and then get to his office immediately.”

“Of course,” Race said, already walking towards the door. “Good match guys,” he called to Mike and Ike where they were taking a break from training. They nodded to him as he walked out the door.

Still feeling too much energy, Race jogged all the way back to his apartment. He took a three minute shower and got dressed in his typical outfit he wore on jobs.

When he got to Snyder’s building, he knocked quietly on the door again. This time it wasn’t Albert pointing a gun in his face, it was Specs.

“Heya Racer,” he said as he put the gun down. “C’mon, Boss said you were to go straight to his office.”

Specs led the way, after bolting the door after Race. They did the short walk in silence, Race wondering why Snyder wanted him there a day early.

Specs knocked on Snyder’s door, who immediately called them in. Specs shut the door behind Race, likely going back to monitor the door.

“Sit down,” Snyder told Race. “I want you to start the Conlon job early. The time is right. This isn’t going to be like the normal jobs you do, this is gonna take more time. I expect about a year.”

Race was confused, it was nearly unheard of that Snyder would send anyone in undercover for that long. His longest time undercover was about three months, and that was the longest by a lot.

“Again, this is different from your normal. I don’t want you to just kill Conlon, I want you to destroy him. You are going to get close to him in the next year or so, and then you are going to reveal yourself when the time is right. Then you will kill him.”

“Okay,” Race started. “But what do you mean get close to him? In what way?” He asked.

Snyder looked at him like he was stupid.

“You are going to make him fall in love with you,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s the best way to crush him when he learns the truth.”

“But I don’t know how to do that,” Race said. “I can get in there and obviously I know how to seduce him, but I have no clue how to make someone fall in love with me.”

“I think you can figure it out. Anyways, you start tomorrow, you will be going to Sammy’s market and just happen to run into Conlon, and you will figure it out from there. Be there by ten a.m. so that you can run into him, and I don’t need to remind you that you have a lot at stake here.”

“Of course, Boss, thank you for this opportunity,” Race said enthusiastically. “I won’t let you down.”

He left the office after that and after bidding Specs a good night, he jogged home. He wasn’t nervous for the next day, after as many jobs as he’s done, he didn’t get nervous. He was more excited. This was one of the biggest jobs he would be doing. He, Racetrack Higgins, would be the one to take down Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn. The thing he was confused about was why Snyder wanted him to make Conlon fall in love with him. He also didn’t know how to make someone fall in love with him. He had never needed - or wanted - anyone to, working for Snyder required versatility, which a relationship restricted. Of course, some of the guys had casual relationships, but Snyder highly discouraged it outside the group because of the nature of their jobs.

He guessed he would just have to wing it. He had seen enough rom coms - the added benefit of his regular sleepless nights and the public channels always having a sappy movie on - to be able to come up with something, right? Race turned on the station that always had a rom com on just in case. It couldn’t hurt, he figured. He fell asleep that night watching the third rom com since Snyder’s office.

Chapter Text

Spot went about his Monday morning as usual. He got dressed before heading downstairs to have breakfast with the crew. Spot was a firm believer in the idea that his soldiers should see him as a human and should like him. Machiavelli said that it’s better to be feared than loved as a ruler, but that was five hundred years ago and what did he know anyways?

No, Spot wanted the respect of his soldiers, which he had, but he didn’t want them to be scared of him. If they were scared, they were more likely to go to other groups like his and probably become a spy against him. He knew, he took enough soldiers from other leaders. He could because he treated them with respect and let them choose if they were uncomfortable with a job. He was a killer, they knew that, but he didn’t kill unnecessarily, which they also knew. People like Snyder, the so-called King of Manhattan, lead with fear. He killed soldiers just for doing their job with a slightly different method than he wanted, even if they got the job done in the end.

As a result, Spot had several spies within his own organization that had sought out his help because they wanted out of Snyder’s group. He always offered them the option, he could get them out, no problem, no strings attached, or they could work for him. Most of them chose to work for him. The ones that didn’t, helped him out occasionally anyways. He doesn’t require it of them, they just want to. The reason he would get them out without strings is because he hated Snyder that much. He didn’t actually need more soldiers, but if they wanted out and if they were willing to work for him, who was he to deny that?

The spies were rarely, if ever, around the rest of the crew. Spot trusted them of course, but he didn’t want any accidents.

When he got to the kitchen, he started making breakfast. Pancakes were the go-to in the Lodging House - what Spot called the building that they all lived in - because they were easy to make for a large group of people. There were always at least thirty people in the Lodging House, the people who were new, usually, and anyone else was welcome to stay whenever, but a lot of them chose to stay at their own apartments.

As Spot cooked the pancakes, there was a trickle of people who came down. With sleepy eyes and pajamas, they each grabbed a plate and a couple pancakes from the pile. The first ten or so members that came down sat around the large table and ate, before getting up one by one. The first person to the sink, Finch, started washing the plates and silverware, and the cycle repeated about three times before Spot sat down with the last group to eat.

They chatted idly about dreams and such while they ate, Spot, as always, taking a genuine interest in his crew. When they were all done eating, and washed and put away the dishes, Spot went to his office to figure out what he was gonna task each person with next.

After working for a few hours, he headed out to Sammy’s market, his favorite local food store. Sammy always cut him a deal since he had been going there for years, and always bought in bulk for everyone at the Lodging House. Even though Spot always insisted he didn’t need any sort of deal, Sammy insisted. So, Spot would always put a generous tip in the donation jar, and always had a few soldiers making sure Sammy was alright.

This particular Monday, he was in the mood for chocolate. He didn’t like to eat a lot at once, but it was his guilty pleasure. Most everyone currently staying at the Lodging house also loved chocolate, so he got a lot.

He was putting it in his basket, about to go get some milk, when he bumped into someone.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention-” he started, then stopped when he looked into a pair of gorgeous eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” the stranger said. “You’ve got a lot of chocolate there, big plans?”

“Oh, well, no not really,” Spot laughed nervously. “It’s just to give to my…” he paused, looking for a good word for this stranger, “employees.”

“You’re a good boss,” he commented.

“Well, I try to keep them happy. There isn't anything obligating them to stay with me- er- my company.”

“Sorry,” the man said. “I'll let you keep shopping.” The stranger walked away with a smile and wink that made Spot’s stomach flutter.

He needed to get his head in the game. He didn't know what came over him. Of course, the stranger was charismatic, but that was no reason for Spot to let down his guard like that and almost reveal sensitive information about his occupation.

He kept shopping, getting a few things the lodging house was low on, then went to pay. As usual, Sammy gave him a hefty discount, and as usual, Spot put a generous tip in the jar.

He walked outside with his bags of groceries, looking up at the sky. Spot loved watching clouds, so he quickly scanned for any shapes he could make out. It was cheesy, but he had to find things to make him happy, or he'd go crazy with his work. His looking up to the sky made him run into the same stranger as before, who was tying his shoe.

“You really like running me over,” the man said, laughing.

“I'm so sorry, I suppose I'm distracted today.”

“Maybe, as an apology, you could buy me lunch.”

Spot stared at him, his mind racing. He was slightly suspicious, but he did feel bad. Why did he keep running into him? Was it a coincidence? A plot? Fate? No, Spot didn't believe in fate. It was just the romantic in him trying to come out.

Apparently he stared slightly too long, because the man shifted nervously.

“Was that too forward?” He nervously laughed. “It's alright, I just think you're attractive and honestly when we ran into each other earlier I wanted to ask you out, but I chickened out. Then you ran into me again and I was like ‘this can't be a coincidence’ so I just jumped on it. But no pressure or anything.” The man finally took a breath.

Spot decided that maybe this stranger was right. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. Plus, he said that Spot was attractive. What was the harm in lunch?

“I'd love to buy you lunch, Mr…?”

“Antonio. Or Tony. Or Racetrack. Or really anything you wanna call me,” he laughed.

“Racetrack?” Spot lifted an eyebrow.

“It's a long story,” he started, and they started walking.

“Well let me drop my groceries off and you can tell me about it. I’m-” If Spot told this stranger—Antonio—that he was Spot Conlon, he didn't doubt that he would know that name. And what it meant. And after all, this was just lunch. If it went further, then Spot would tell him. “I'm Sean.”

Chapter Text

It was weird, having a casual lunch date with the notorious Spot Conlon. Or, as he introduced himself, Sean. It was also weird to have someone calling him Antonio. He didn't think anyone had ever called him that. His mother lived just long enough to name him, and his dad followed her, not thinking his newborn son was enough reason to keep living after his wife died. Snyder had only called him Racetrack, as far as he could remember.

He didn't actually know why Snyder started calling him that. His uncle always brushed the question off. So, Race made up a story for when people asked.

His uncle took him to the racetrack when he was five. Snyder asked him what horse would win, and Race had picked the one he liked best, which happened to have the worst odds. Miraculously, this horse won. And every time after, they went to the races, Race picked a horse, that horse won. Made Snyder loads of money. So, he called him Racetrack after that, since he couldn't go to the racetrack without him.

He doubted any of that had any truth, but Snyder didn't deny it if he ever heard that story.

This is the story Race told Conlon as they walked to the Lodging House to drop off the groceries. Race played along when Conlon told him vague lies about why this was the place they were going.

They dropped off the groceries, not saying much else. When they set off for a diner down the street that Conlon swore by, he spoke out of the blue, startling Race, who was lost in his thoughts.

“It's kinda shitty, though,” he said.

“Hm?” Race was confused.

“That your nickname now is based on the money you made your uncle.”

“Oh it's not a big deal. Making him money is the least I could do. I owe him everything.”

“Still,” Conlon said. “You shouldn't be defined based on what you do for others. You have more to you than that.”

“You don't even know me,” he joked. “That could be all there is to me.”

“Well then, what do you do? Let me get to know you.”

“I do odd jobs mostly. I'll do just about anything. What about you?”

“I'm a manager of a firm. Mostly just boss people around.”

This game was interesting. He was lying, and he knew Conlon was lying, but Conlon didn’t know he knew, and Conlon didn't know he was lying.

He was used to lying to just about everybody. Undercover jobs, normal hits, to Snyder’s other people, even to Snyder sometimes. It always worked.

“That sounds very important, Sean,” Race didn't miss the look Conlon had on his face at that name. He knew the effect he had on people, and he enjoyed that power. He could seduce anybody that was into men, and some who didn't think they were.

The trouble was getting him to fall in love. He didn't know where to start. So he decided to be himself. Well, a version of himself that is.

After lunch, they exchanged phone numbers, made a plan for dinner the next week, and Race walked back to the Lodging House with Conlon.

Race gave him a kiss on his cheek and a sweet smile.

“I can't wait to see you next week,” he said.

“I can't either,” Conlon said before Race left.

Race went back home to his apartment, and didn't know what to do with himself. He overanalyzed the entire afternoon, wondering if it was going to work. His life was riding on this. If he messed up, he didn't doubt that Snyder would kill him, if for no other reason than to set an example.

You didn't mess up with Snyder. He demanded perfection, and if he didn't have it, he would dispose of anyone. The fact that Race was his nephew and the best man he had meant nothing. If anything, it demanded more perfection from him.

He turned on the cooking channel and started cleaning. He didn't know what he was supposed to do while waiting for their next date. This was going to be a long week.

Chapter Text

Spot showed up at Antonio's apartment, precisely at six. He brought a small bouquet of flowers, unsure what he liked, but wanting to give him something.

“Hi Sean!” Antonio said as he opened the door. “Oh, are those for me?”

“Yes, I wasn't sure what you liked so I just got the bouquet that reminded me of you.” Spot didn't know why he was nervous. This was just a date, and not even the first date.

“They're gorgeous! Let me put them in water. Please, come in,” he said, opening the door wider and stepping to the side to let Spot in.

“You have a nice place,” Spot said, following Antonio into the kitchen.

“Thank you, it’s not much, but it’s good enough for me.” Antonio got out a tall glass and poured water into it. “Do you mind if I cut the stems and everything right away? It shouldn’t take long.”

“Of course, do what you need to,” Spot replied. It was cute that he took care of things like that, not everyone did. “We aren’t in a hurry, take your time.”

Antonio got a pair of scissors out of what Spot could only describe as a junk drawer. He saw all sorts of miscellaneous items in it before Antonio slammed it shut. He started chopping the bottom of the flowers off, then arranging them in the glass quickly but carefully. When he was done, there was a beautiful arrangement that looked twice the size of the bouquet he started with.

“Wow,” Spot said as Antonio placed it in the middle of his counter and started cleaning up the mess. “You have real talent. You should work in a flower shop or something.”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” he responded.

“I’m serious, that was amazing. It looks gorgeous.”

“Well, thank you. I don’t think it’s much, though.”

“It is.” Spot leaned against the counter. “You ready?”

“That depends,” Antonio said. “Is my outfit appropriate? Since you didn’t tell me where we’re going I’m not sure.”

Spot twirled his finger in the air to get Antonio to spin around.

“You look perfect.”

“Why thank you, Sean.”

They walked down the street, chatting idly. Spot was anxious to learn more about this handsome man with a hidden floral talent.

“So, Antonio, where did you grow up?”

“Manhattan, born and raised. I’ve never left the city. Obviously, I’ve gone to other boroughs, but I’ve never had a need to leave.”

“I’m the same. But with Brooklyn. I don’t know what I’d do away from her,” Spot told him. “But I’ve always wanted to go back to Ireland once, just to see it.”

“Back?”

“I moved here when I was a kid. But I don’t remember it much.”

“Maybe I could go with you,” Antonio said shyly.

Spot looked over at him and grinned.

“I’d like that.”

At the restaurant, they continued the easy conversation between them. Antonio wanted to try all of Spot’s food, a trait he usually hated but didn’t seem to mind with him. He gladly surrendered his plate to Antonio so he could try everything and see what he liked.

Spot picked up the check, to Antonio’s dismay.

“At least let me pay for some of it,” he protested.

“No, I took you out. If you take me out, you can pay.”

“Fine,” Antonio pouted.

When they got back to Antonio’s apartment, he invited Spot inside for a drink.

“What’s your biggest regret?” Antonio asked, the two men sitting at the bar.

Spot barked a laugh.

“You really get down to it, don’t you?” He asked. Antonio nodded, smiling. “I suppose it’s that I grew up too fast. But I didn’t have much of a choice, so I’m not sure that counts.”

“What do you mean?” Antonio asked him.

“Well, like I said before, I moved here when I was a kid. I didn’t have a choice. My family back in Ireland threw me on a boat headed to New York, with nothing. Nobody waiting for me, no money, no way to make it. So, I had to figure out how to survive. And I did. But I had to grow up real quick for it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Antonio put his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, it made me who I am. I don’t regret who I am now.”

Antonio looked at him softly.

“I’m liking who you are so far.”

Spot leaned into him, hoping he wasn’t misreading the look. Hoping he wasn’t misreading everything. Hoping Antonio would kiss him back.

And he did. So gently, they kissed and kissed and kissed. So softly in a way that Spot had never kissed before. In a way he had never been kissed.

Spot didn’t know what it meant, he just knew he wanted more. It was intoxicating, this soft, gentle kissing suddenly made him desperate. Desperate for more contact, for more Antonio. For more.

Spot couldn’t hold back. He grabbed Antonio’s shirt collar, pressing harder against him. They were standing, grabbing each other, pulling each other closer. Kissing with such intensity and passion and Spot couldn’t get enough. He felt Antonio leading him across the room, and he gladly followed.

He couldn’t help himself when they got to the door, before opening it he pushed Antonio against it, causing him to moan. The sound gave Spot goosebumps. He moved across Antonio’s cheek, giving light kisses, down his neck, until he found the right place. The light kisses got rough as Spot worked on the tender skin, bruising it. Antonio moaned again, rewarding Spot for his work.

“Bed. Now,” Antonio whispered.

Spot didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift move, he picked up the other man, kissing him, and opened the bedroom door. He kicked it shut behind him, and found his way to the bed in the dark room.

“You’re strong,” Antonio said against Spot’s lips. “I like that.”

Spot chuckled.

“I’ll show you how strong I am.”

Spot tossed him down on the mattress and climbed on top of him.

It was one of the best nights Spot had in a long time. Making different noises come out of this gorgeous man made his entire life worth it. And hearing Antonio moan his name- his real name? That drove him absolutely wild.

Chapter Text

Race was walking down the street, and ran into Conlon.

“Hey, Sean!” He called out.

Conlon turned, and waved to him.

“Hey Antonio!” Conlon walked up to Race. “I just ran into a friend of yours!”

“Who?” Race asked. He didn’t have much for friends, so he wondered who would have told Conlon that. He hoped it wasn’t someone who recognizably worked for Snyder, that’d blow his cover.

“Oh,” Conlon looked behind Race. “Here he comes now.”

Race turned around to look, and cried out when he saw Jack Kelly with his throat slashed walking up to him, an angry look on his face.

“Racetrack Higgins, I’m gonna kill you!” He yelled, and started running at Race.

Davey Jacobs came from the side and started stabbing him. Then Kelly joined in. Then Conlon. They were stabbing him and he was crying out and more people he killed joined and they stabbed him so many times and just kept going.

Stabbing and stabbing and stabbing.

Race sobbed, and stopped fighting. He let them all keep stabbing him, he deserved the pain, after all. He deserved it all.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he kept repeating, willing it to stop. Willing himself to just die.

“Antonio?” Conlon asked, still stabbing him. “Antonio, are you okay?”

He was shaking Race now. Race just wanted it to stop. Why was Conlon asking if he was okay? He was the one stabbing and shaking him.

“Antonio!”

Race jolted awake, covered in sweat.

Immediately he was on the defense, ready to fight for his life. He looked around wildly to find the attacker.

“Antonio! Are you okay?”

Race struggled to comprehend what was happening. Slowly, he was able to take in his surroundings and realize it was just a nightmare.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said.

“Are you sure? You were yelling and thrashing around. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Race did want to, he so desperately wanted to finally tell somebody, but he didn’t know how to explain the dream without Conlon knowing too much.

“It was just a nightmare. I’m okay, it’s nothing new.”

This was a mistake to say, Conlon was immediately concerned.

“You have a lot of nightmares?” He asked.

“Just once in a while,” Race lied.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me about it?” Conlon seemed genuinely concerned.

Race decided to tell a bit of truth.

“I have dreams that my friends kill me.”

“That’s terrible,” Conlon said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” Race said.

“Okay, I get it. I'm here if you change your mind.”

Race felt too vulnerable with this man that was meant to be his target. He again wondered why Snyder wanted him to make Conlon fall in love before killing him. What did it achieve?

As the two settled back down to go back to sleep, Race briefly had the thought that Snyder was actually punishing Race, more than Conlon. He quickly dismissed the thought, of course it wasn’t true, but a small part of him wondered.

Chapter Text

Spot didn't know that he could feel so deeply about a person he had known less than a year. But here he was, having the umpteenth date with Antonio. He adored the man with everything in him. He was cute, funny, smart, absolutely insane, and his. Antonio was his.

Spot would not let him go, that's all he knew. He didn't know why or how Antonio had come into his life, but he was better for it.

The problem was that Antonio still didn't know the truth about him. When they spent nights together, it was at Antonio's apartment so he wouldn't have to come up with a reason for the Lodging House. And nobody would give him away. He kept making excuses for why Antonio couldn't come in.

But it had been six months. They were getting serious. It wasn't a fling anymore. And it was time, he thought.

A man walked past their table, then did a double-take at Antonio. Spot was immediately on edge.

“Hey, Racer! How ya been?” The man asked.

Antonio looked uncomfortable.

“Oh, hey Mike,” Antonio said.

“What're you doing in a fancy place like this?” Mike asked.

“We're having a meeting,” Spot cut in harshly. He didn't like that Antonio was uncomfortable.

“Oh, sorry pal, I didn't realize.” Mike looked Spot up and down. “Wait, you're-”

“Busy,” Spot cut him off.

Mike looked confused back and forth between the couple, then nodded.

“See ya later, Race.” He left.

“What was that about?” Spot asked Antonio.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Antonio countered.

Suddenly, Spot wasn't ready to tell him the truth of who he was. What if Antonio wouldn’t understand? What if it ruined everything?

“Who was he?”

“Oh, well,” Antonio started. “He works for my uncle.”

“What does your uncle do anyways?” Spot asked him.

“He runs a business.”

“What kind of business?”

“What is this, Sean? Why are you interrogating me about my uncle?”

“I just realized that we’ve been together this long and I don’t know much about the man who raised you. You talk about him, but will I ever meet him? He’s clearly important to you, and you’re important to me,” Spot said, frustrated that Antonio kept diverting. He ignored the fact that he just did the same thing.

“I have to use the restroom,” Antonio said, standing up.

“Okay.”

Spot was getting suspicious. Why wouldn’t Antonio ever talk more than vaguely about his uncle? He made it clear that his uncle was important in his life, but Spot didn’t even know the man’s name. He wanted to meet the man who made Antonio who he was. He was falling in love with this man, and wanted to know everyone important to him.

But here he was, this stranger who seemed to know Antonio well, and he hadn’t even introduced them.

Suddenly, Spot felt bad at his hypocrisy. He still hadn’t told Antonio who he was.

He decided that when Antonio came back from the bathroom, he would tell him.

Chapter Text

Race walked through the restaurant, fuming. Mike was an idiot. Race could just kill him, he was so angry.

Race found the man, gestured to the bathroom, then waited there for the man to show up. There was nobody in the men’s room, so when Mike came through the door, Race locked it and rounded on him.

He slammed him against the wall and yelled at him.

“What the fuck is the matter with you? You almost blew my cover, idiot!”

“Whoa I didn’t mean to!” He raised his hands innocently. “I had no clue you were on a mission!”

Race slammed him against the wall again.

“First, when am I ever not on a mission?” He demanded. “Second, you know you never fucking address other people who work for Boss in public, especially if they’re with someone you know doesn’t. For example, if you see me with Spot fucking Conlon, you ignore me, dumbass.”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to, and I didn’t realize who he was ‘til the end!”

Race punched him in the jaw. He was so angry at this incompetent man. Mike cowered, making him more angry. They had sparred before, he should have the decency to fight back.

Race could admit he got a bit carried away, as he washed the blood off his knuckles. He was so frustrated and confused about Snyder’s directions, this whole mission, and used Mike as an outlet when it bubbled over.

He just hoped Sean wouldn’t notice his skin broken at the knuckles. He couldn’t think of a single excuse.

Of course, when Race got back to the table, it was the first thing he noticed.

“What happened?” He sounded so concerned, Race couldn’t help but feel affectionate towards him.

Once again, he wondered if his uncle was punishing him.

“That guy, Mike, he tried to jump me in the bathroom,” Race lied smoothly. He was exhausted. This was too long of a mission, of lying to the same man. Too long of Race starting to get attached. It was too tiring. He decided to change the way he played this game. He just hoped the past months had the effect he thought. “He said something about how my uncle would be angry that I was with you, especially on a date. I don’t know what he meant, just had to fight back.”

“Antonio,” Conlon started gently. “Please tell me who your uncle is.”

“His name is Snyder.”

Chapter Text

Spot tried to stay calm. The name that set him off. The one man in the world he hated. This was Race’s uncle?

Despite his efforts, he felt the rage growing.

“Is this why you never told me? Did he put you up to this? Was it ever real?”

“Sean, calm down,” Antonio started.

“Calm down?!” Spot hissed. “I despise that man with everything in me. And I know he hates me too. Answer the questions, Antonio. Is this real?”

“Yes! Of course it’s real! Why wouldn’t it be? I know my uncle isn’t well liked, but he’s a businessman, it comes with the territory. Are you rivals?”

Spot stared at him. He seemed genuinely oblivious. Spot didn’t know if he believed it. He reminded himself that Antonio didn’t even know who Spot was.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he said, mind racing with the new information and the implications.

“That explains Mike,” Antonio commented.

Spot couldn’t process this. It was all too much.

“I need to go,” he said, standing up. He pulled out his wallet and threw some cash on the table.

“Wait, Sean,” Antonio cried out. “Where are you going? It can’t be all that bad, can it?”

Spot hesitated, but then started walking away. He needed air and he needed to clear his head and most of all, he needed to kill Snyder.

“Are we done?” He heard Antonio ask quietly, but he didn’t know. He just needed to think. And so he left without a word.

Outside the restaurant, his anger got the better of him. He punched the brick wall, just to let some of it out. All it did was make his hand bleed.

He walked down the street, towards the Lodging House, towards the familiar. This turned his whole world on end. He didn’t know who to trust, were any of his people actually loyal to him? He took so many from Snyder, how was he to know if they were actually true to him?

And Antonio. Was that real? Or did his dear old uncle orchestrate it all. Everything was suspicious now. They met at Spot’s favorite market. They ran into each other twice. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Or was Antonio telling the truth? Did he really think Snyder was just a businessman and that the two were competitors? It was all too confusing. Was anything Antonio ever said real?

Before Spot knew it, he was outside the Lodging House. He realized that he didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to look at everyone and wonder who was really on his side. But he knew one person who was.

At the docks, Spot found Mush. They had been through the Refuge together, and nobody could do that without an intense hatred of Snyder. Mush was the only one Spot knew he could trust in that moment.

He spilled everything to his friend, everything about Antonio, about their first meeting, their dinner tonight, and everything in between. And he told him about his relationship to Snyder. After unloading it all, he looked to Mush for a reaction.

“Damn,” Mush started. “That’s a lot to process. First, why didn’t you tell me you were dating anyone?”

Spot just shrugged.

“With Antonio it was like I could be someone else. I could just be Sean, not have to be Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn. I just thought I could keep it separate.” He felt so stupid.

“I get that,” Mush told him. “I know it’s a lot of pressure on you. And you’re twenty, you get to have relationships. I just don’t think you should keep them separate. At least not totally.”

“I know, Mush, I don’t need a lecture right now,” he snapped.

“Look, don’t get pissy, I’m your friend. I have a right to tell you when you’re being stupid,” Mush countered. “Anyways, as for this Antonio/Snyder business, you gotta go with your gut. You know it doesn’t fail you. ‘Sides, I don’t know him. So I can’t tell you if he’s telling the truth, but from what you told me, he definitely cares about you.”

“If he cared, he wouldn’t go along with Snyder.”

“Then maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he really doesn’t know. Or, he did, and you changed him. That’s up to you to figure out, but I know he cares. Whether you both know it or not. And if he does still go along with Snyder, you can always use this as a weapon.”

Spot thought about this. He didn’t know if he could use Antonio as a weapon. Then, he thought about everything Snyder’s done, and knew he would use any means to bring him down.

“Thanks, Mush.”

He walked to Antonio’s apartment, planning what he was going to say. It was starting to get dark. By the time he got there, the only light was from the streetlamps.

He was fully calmed when he knocked on the door, and after a moment it swung open. Antonio looked out, confused, then his face turned to anger when they locked eyes.

“You better have a damn good reason for being here,” he said.

“I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken my anger towards your uncle out on you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Is that all?” Race demanded. He didn’t wait before saying “Then goodnight.” And he slammed the door shut.

“Wait!” Spot called out. “Please, Antonio, let me explain.”

The door opened again.

“You know,” Antonio started. “I’ve had bad boyfriends before, but I’ve never had someone leave me alone in a fancy restaurant because they were business rivals with my uncle. It was embarrassing. For a stupid and petty reason. And then you come to my apartment and say you’re ‘sorry?’” He did air quotes. “And that you shouldn’t have? No shit, Sherlock. Way to state the obvious.”

“There’s more to it,” Spot told him. “We aren’t business rivals.”

Antonio looked confused.

“We aren’t business rivals because I don’t have a business,” he continued. “Not a real one, anyways. I should have told you this before, but I was too cowardly. I thought it would change things between us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m known as Spot Conlon. The King of Brooklyn.”

Antonio’s eyes widened. Spot couldn’t tell if it was shock or fear- or both. Then his expression changed to one of confusion.

“Wait, then what business do you have with my uncle?” He asked

Spot stared at him until it sank in.

“Wait,” he said slowly. “Are you saying my uncle is like you? In some kind of gang?”

Spot started getting nervous about talking about this in public. He wasn't in the mood for an altercation. It had been a long day.

“Can I come in so we can talk?” He asked, looking around.

Antonio opened the door wider, allowing Spot to go in.

“Thanks,” he said, stepping inside.

Antonio crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

“I was going to. When I met you, I figured there was no reason to tell you, I had no clue how far it would go. I kept putting it off and it got harder and harder. I got to carve out a life that was just me and you. Sean and Antonio. I got to be someone else. Not the King of Brooklyn, just a man. I got to be just Sean with you, and I was terrified of losing that. Terrified that I would lose you if you knew I was Spot Conlon. But tonight, I really put my mind to it. I was going to tell you at dinner. And then everything happened.” Spot stopped to catch his breath.

“Why tonight? Why did you finally decide to tell me?”

“I was going to tell you because I realized something. I realized that I don’t want to live without you. And then, Antonio, I realized that I love you.”

Antonio’s eyes widened.

“You love me?” He asked, dumbfounded.

Spot nodded.

“That’s why finding out who your uncle is threw me so much. I didn’t know if our whole relationship was just some plot to throw me over. I wouldn’t put it past Snyder. Anyways I felt betrayed by you, thinking you were trying to make me fall in love with you just to hurt me. But I see that it isn’t true. And Antonio, even if it is true, I still love you. Even if you’re doing this to hurt me, I don’t regret knowing and loving you. Because it has made me better.”

“Sean, I don’t know what to say,” Antonio started.

“You don’t need to say anything. I said what I came here to say, I’ll go now.” He turned around and walked back to the door.

“Wait, Sean,” Antonio called after him. “Don’t go.”

Spot looked back at him.

“I love you, too.”

After their confessions of love, the two men embraced. When they came together as one, it felt different to Spot. Antonio knew who he was. He knew about Antonio’s uncle. Everything was different, was better.

And after, when Antonio turned on the nature channel and they cuddled, Spot knew it would be okay.

Chapter Text

“Why do you hate my uncle so much?” Race asked quietly. They had been watching the nature channel, but his mind was on other things. He told Sean he loved him because he knew he had to. He didn’t want to think about whether it was true, he already knew he cared too much. Wait, when did he start thinking of him as Sean?

“Do you know about the Refuge?” Sean asked, sitting up.

Race sat up too. Yes, he knew about it, but he had no clue why Sean would bring it up. It was charity. Of all the things Snyder did, this was probably the only good one.

“Yeah, my uncle runs it so homeless kids have a place to go. What about it?”

Sean gave a harsh, sarcastic laugh.

“Is that what he told you?” Sean sounded angry.

Now Race was really confused. It wasn’t just what Snyder told him, but everyone. He only heard good things about the Refuge, helping kids on the streets so they could make a life.

“The Refuge is not a good thing, Antonio,” he said angrily. “Being locked in that hell was the worst time of my life. Nobody was in there willingly. We were literally tortured, Antonio. Kids died.”

Race had no clue why Snyder would pass it off as charity, if what Sean said was true. He was proud of everything else fucked up that he did. He killed people all the time. Why would he lie about this? And why would he lie to Race? He was in his closest group. He should have known about it.

“I had no clue,” he said truthfully. “I thought it was a charity.”

“Charity?” Sean spat. “He’s sick for saying that with everything he personally does in there. The first time I was caught and thrown in there was not long after I came to America. Somehow, I escaped the next day. But not until after sleeping on a rusty metal bed frame, no mattress. I did not have food that whole time.

“The next time, I was twelve. I was assaulted by some of his guards. He watched.”

Race was horrified at what he was hearing. He couldn’t do anything but listen in shock and disgust at his uncle’s crimes. He knew Snyder could be pretty heartless, but this was worse than he ever thought.

“I was there for a week. Again, I didn’t have food that whole time. He would spit in our cells, Antonio. And those bed frames, sleeping on them rubbed you raw.”

He turned his back to Race, taking off his shirt.

“You asked me what these scars are from, once. I lied because I didn’t want to scare you.”

Race saw the scars in a new way now. A terrible realization was happening in his mind. He didn’t know what to think.

“Kids starved to death, or died from dehydration. Anybody could get sick and die ‘cus the place was so filthy. And he didn’t care who got sick. There weren’t many cells with a toilet. You were lucky to get one. Otherwise you’d live in your own filth till you could find an escape. Most people didn’t escape alive.

“I had a cellmate once, when I was in there at sixteen. The last time. I told this kid, a ten year old, that I’d get us out. But the kid was desperate. And the night before I was ready to escape, he got too impatient. See, those metal bed frames, they had some sharp edges. This ten year old kid,” Sean’s voice broke. He cleared his throat to be able to finish. “Antonio, this ten year old. He found a sharp edge. And an escape.”

Race didn’t know how to react. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could the man that raised him do this?

Race held Sean, his mind racing on what this all meant.

If this was true, and he had a horrible feeling it was, how could he keep working for his uncle? Killing, and even torture, that was just the business. But children? That wasn’t okay. How had he never heard about this?

At the same time, what could he do about it? If he tried to leave, Snyder would definitely kill him. He doubted he would ever be able to escape. Except he was Snyder’s best man. Certainly nobody he knew about would be able to kill him. Probably only Snyder himself would stand a chance.

But that would mean leaving New York. And leaving Sean. He knew he wouldn’t go, wouldn’t leave Brooklyn. Besides, how could he come clean now? He would have to.

A new idea was forming in Race’s mind. He was going to take down Snyder.

Chapter Text

When Spot woke up, Antonio was sitting at the bar in the kitchen, sipping coffee. He looked tired. Spot didn’t blame him, learning the things he did last night couldn’t have been easy.

Antonio looked up when Spot walked in.

“Help yourself,” he gestured to the coffee.

Spot got a cup, and sat down next to him.

“How long have you been up?” He asked.

“I pretty much didn’t sleep last night,” Antonio replied. “I need to talk to you.”

Spot felt a pit in his stomach at the words. A thousand possibilities went through his mind.

“I haven’t been truthful about everything,” Antonio started, making Spot even more nervous. “I knew everything about Snyder.”

Spot was about to respond, angry, but Antonio cut him off first.

“Everything except the Refuge. I had no idea about that.”

“So, what? Was this all a plan to take me down?”

“Yes,” Antonio said simply. “It was. I have a lot to tell you. But I need to first tell you that my feelings for you are real. I fell for the mark. Classic mistake. But I wasn’t going to let it stop me. Until you told me about the Refuge. And now I need your help.”

Spot thought about this for a moment. He felt slightly betrayed, but after last night, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Coming clean was weird though. But it could still be a part of the con. He decided to listen, and then make up his mind.

“Tell me,” he said.

Antonio gave him a rundown of his life, how Snyder had trained him into a killing machine, various missions, the Jack Kelly mission and how it went wrong, and now this one.

“I wondered what happened to Kelly. I never liked him, but it was weird that he died. I thought he worked with Snyder.”

“He did. But he was a snitch. So I had to take him out. But I killed Jacobs too. I don’t know if this is punishment for that, or if he just wants to teach me a lesson. Either way, I’m here.”

“So why are you telling me this?”

“The Refuge. Adults killing adults is one thing. It’s our business and we only kill other people in the business. But the Refuge? It’s sick. I don’t want any part in that. I knew Snyder was ruthless, and did fucked up things, but I felt I owed him. He took me in and didn’t have to. But he just wanted me for a weapon. And I was fine with that, but I can’t be a weapon for him anymore. Not knowing this.”

He looked genuinely upset about it. But he also looked genuine about a lot of other things.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want out.”

“Simple enough, I can arrange that,” Spot said, assuming a business attitude. None of it was personal, he understood that. But, he was still hurt, so he covered it up with talking business.

“No, it isn’t simple. Not only because Snyder will never let me go. He spent a lot of time and resources building me into what I am. He won’t waste that, unless it’s to kill me so I can’t ever go against him. I want to take him down. So the Refuge can’t go on. I want to dismantle it. Will you help me?”

Spot didn’t need to think about it more.

“Yes, I will help you.”

Antonio breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’ve made me soft,” Spot said. “The old me would have killed you the second I knew Snyder was your uncle.”

“I have no reason for you not to kill me. I might give you a slight advantage against Snyder since I know so much about how he operates, but I’m sure you could get the same from a few well-placed spies. Sean, you can kill me. You should. I deserve it. I was going to kill you. I’ve killed so many people. Plus, it might be a strategic move to get Snyder out at my funeral.”

Spot was confused. Antonio was almost begging him to kill him. But even though Spot was hurt and upset, his feelings for the man that developed the last several months didn’t just turn off.

Spot hugged the man next to him. It was all he could think of.

“I’m not going to kill you, Antonio,” he whispered.

“But you should, I deserve it,” he sobbed. “I’m so tired of this life, Sean. I just want out. I just want to be done. And the only way out is to die. Better you kill me quick than Snyder send someone to torture me to death.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Spot told him. “I won’t let you. And you don’t have to stay in this life. I will get you out, I promise.”

“Why? Why would you help me?”

“Like I told you last night, I love you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Chapter Text

This was it. The moment they had spent months planning for. It was time to kill Snyder. Sean and Race spent the past month destroying him. They had inspections ordered on the Refuge enough that it got shut down. Sean took all the kids there that didn’t have somewhere to go in at the Lodging House.

The news was covered in Snyder, highlighting his alleged crimes. But still, he wasn’t arrested. He had too much of the police force in his pocket. So, Race and Sean hatched a plan to kill him.

It was simple, really. They would just go to his mansion late at night, quietly take out his guards, and then take care of him. The key was being quiet. If any guard got wind of an attack before they could be silenced, they would sound the alarm.

Race was terrified of what would happen if any part of their plan went wrong. It was certain death for them both.

They snuck in a side door that Snyder hadn’t bothered to change the lock on. His mind immediately screamed trap, but Sean nodded him forward when he looked back. They moved through the halls silently. Anybody they came across was out quickly with a slice to the neck. Race was in his assassin mode, not feeling anything as he killed a dozen guards.

He felt like there should have been more, but Sean didn’t seem worried. And anyways, there wasn’t far between the door they came in and Snyder’s bedroom.

At his bedroom door, they stood on either side. Quietly, Race pushed the door open. Snyder didn’t allow guards in his bedroom, so they slipped in and shut the door.

Immediately, two shots fired, and Race knew he was right about it being a trap.

Chapter Text

Confusion, betrayal, anger, sadness. But mostly confusion. How could Antonio do this? Spot thought their love was real. Clearly not. He was on Snyder’s side after all.

Snyder. The one man Spot truly hated. He thought they were agreed in it. But here he was, laying on the floor, bleeding out. He couldn’t see or hear Antonio, confirming that he had been betrayed.

“You did good, Racer,” Snyder’s voice said somewhere near him. Or was it far away? It was getting hard to tell. Hard to breathe. “You delivered Conlon to me, as I asked.”

Hearing the confirmation was almost too much to bear. But it was his own fault for falling for it. It was all a setup, and Spot went right into it.

Blood was starting to choke him. He felt like he was drowning. He coughed, his body trying desperately to stay alive, while his mind was accepting it. What did he need to stay alive for anyways? Antonio didn’t want him.

No, he needed to stay alive. Out of spite. He wouldn’t let them win. Who would take care of all those kids he just rescued from hell? And what about Mush? And all the others? He needed to stay alive for them. It wouldn’t be that easy to kill the King of Brooklyn.

Spot faded out of consciousness, hearing the sound of a gunshot. He figured it finished him off.

Chapter Text

Race woke up in the hospital. His head hurt like no other. He struggled to figure out what was going on, all the beeping driving him mad.

He tried to remember what happened. It hurt to think, but he needed to know what was happening.

He remembered being at Snyder’s mansion. They got to his bedroom, and that’s where it got fuzzy. He thought he remembered Sean getting shot twice, and then he thought he got slammed on the head. All he knew is he went down quick and couldn’t move.

Wait, shit, Sean was shot twice.

Race looked to the machines he was attached to, trying to disconnect himself. Immediately they started blaring, making his head explode with pain. A couple nurses ran in, and saw him struggling to detach himself.

“Sir! You can’t do that!” One of them cried.

“Please, you need to stay in bed, you aren’t fit to move!”

“Sean,” Race mumbled, then got louder. “What happened to Sean?”

“Sir! Please stay in bed!”

One of the nurses came on his other side and jabbed a needle into him. The world started fading out again.

When he woke up again, Race once again had to try to remember what had happened.

Mansion. Snyder’s bedroom. Shots fired. Sean. Head. Trying to crawl to Sean. Snyder talking to him.

Wait. Snyder talking to him? Race knew he said something. What did he say? Something about delivering Conlon to him.

Conlon. Why was that name familiar? His head hurt so bad. Conlon, Conlon, Spot Conlon. Sean!

But Race didn’t deliver Sean to him. Snyder knew that. That means he was still alive and Snyder was just trying to cause him more pain.

Sean was alive.

Sean was alive!

He had to be in the hospital. How did they get to the hospital? It didn’t matter. Sean could still be alive; he needed to get to him.

Race tried to detach himself from the machines again, and like last time the nurses came in and started yelling at him. He didn’t even notice the shot that time, just saw the world getting darker as he wondered when he could finally find Sean.

The next time Race woke up, his head only hurt a little. It made it much easier to think. He knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he kept ripping the machines off him, so he hit the call nurse button instead. He would be civil, if that’s what it took.

As he waited, he continued trying to remember everything that happened. He had almost gotten to Sean when Snyder kicked him in the stomach. He pointed his gun at Race’s head, and Race guessed he underestimated the strength he had left in him because he was able to muster enough to wrestle the gun from him, and then he shot him.

He shot Snyder. It was directly in the heart, so he couldn’t have survived, right? Was Race finally free from him?

A nurse came in and immediately checked all his machines to make sure they were normal.

“Please,” Race said. “Can you tell me if Sean is okay?”

The nurse looked at him pityingly. It made Race’s stomach knot up in worry. What if he didn’t make it?

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you about other patients.”

“Please, he’s my boyfriend. I need to know if he’s at least alive.”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t tell you.”

The nurse went to adjust Race’s pillows, and bent down next to his ear.

“He should live, but he’s in bad shape,” She whispered, almost quiet enough Race couldn’t hear.

He should live. Race focused on that, not the dread about him being in bad shape.

“When can I leave?” He asked as the nurse straightened up.

“You should be able to leave in a day or two,” she said. “As long as you’re feeling alright.”

“Thank you,” he said. She nodded and walked out.

Chapter Text

Spot woke up to a bright white room. He figured he was dead, and this was some sort of afterlife. He couldn’t feel his body, further confirming this theory. He didn’t believe in an afterlife, but hey, he could be wrong. And all signs were pointing towards him being dead. He just hoped he could finally have some peace.

Spot was a bit disappointed in himself; he had meant to stay alive, but he tried his best, he supposed. There’s only so much staying alive one can do when they’ve been shot.

Someone came into his room. He didn’t know how this worked, so he figured it was a god or some other dead person.

“Hey, you’re awake,” the person said. “How are you feeling?”

Spot didn’t know if he could talk, he really couldn’t feel anything, but he tried.

“‘M alright,” he slurred somewhat. “Can’t feel anything. That normal?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s normal, but it isn’t too concerning, under the circumstances. You just woke up, we’ll give it some time,” they said.

“You dead too? How’s this work?” Spot asked.

There was a long pause.

“Mr. Conlon, you aren’t dead. You’re in the hospital. You were shot, but you’re alive,” the person said.

That didn’t make sense. He should have died. Right? Isn’t the whole choking on blood part the last thing before you die?

“Hospital? How’d I get here?”

“A young man called the police the night you were shot. He said that his uncle had invited him and his boyfriend over, but was feeling threatened because he sort of, well, lost his mind.” The person paused. “When the first responders arrived, they found you with gunshot wounds, the young man with you had a severe concussion and some cracked ribs, and had just admitted to shooting his uncle in self-defense. They rushed you here, and you’ve been out for about two and a half days.”

Spot tried to absorb all that information. Antonio killed Snyder? He thought he betrayed him, but he really saved him? And he called the cops to make sure they would both make it?

Finally, finally, Spot fully trusted Antonio again. He started to smile. His love didn’t betray him after all.

“When can I see him? When can I see Antonio?”

“We really aren’t allowed to let you two see each other, since you aren’t legally family. But since you’re awake, you should be set to leave within a few days, if you’re feeling better.”

Chapter Text

Race waited anxiously outside the hospital. This was the day Sean was going to be released. Mush kept him in the loop, since he was Sean’s emergency contact he was the only one the doctors would talk to.

He paced back and forth right outside the door. Occasionally someone would come out and he would get excited thinking it was Sean, but it wasn’t.

He had gotten a cab there, the doctors said with his ribs and concussion still healing he shouldn’t walk everywhere. He would get a cab home, too; he didn’t want Sean to overdo it.

They were going to stay at the Lodging House, Mush had absolutely insisted. He guessed two people that were both injured and had been through something “traumatic,” weren’t allowed to be alone together without people close by.

Finally, when the doors opened this time, it was Sean. Race ran to him and hugged him tightly, hurting slightly, but not caring. He finally got to see his love after so long. The last time he saw him, he was bleeding out in Snyder’s mansion, and Race was terrified he would die.

“Gods, I missed you,” he whispered in his boyfriend’s ear.

“I missed you, too,” Sean whispered back, still clinging to him tightly.

As they finally pulled away, Race took in the sight of the man in front of him.

“You look like shit,” he joked.

“Thanks, you too,” Sean said, with a slight smile. “I feel like shit, personally, how about you?”

“I’m much better now that you’re here,” Race said seriously.

“Let’s go home,” Sean told him.

They got into the cab, and rode home, Race updating Sean on everything that happened since he was released from the hospital.

“It was awful, they wouldn’t tell me anything about you,” Race said.

“I’m so sorry,” Sean said. “I wish I could have talked to you.”

“We’re together now, that’s all that matters.”

Back in the Lodging House, Mush sent them to bed right away. They cuddled in Sean’s full-size bed, happy to both be alive, happy to be together.

“I thought you betrayed me. Why didn’t you tell me that you already called the ambulance?” Sean whispered into Race’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Race admitted. “I think I was worried that I would be too dead to call and I didn’t want you to worry. I just knew that I needed you to come out of that place alive.”

“I wouldn’t want to come out alive if you weren’t there too,” Sean told him.

They fell into quietness, comforted by each other, and both slowly fell asleep. They had a lot to work on with themselves and each other, but they knew together they would work it all out.