Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10367493.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Newsies_(1992), Newsies_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Spot_Conlon/Racetrack_Higgins
  Character:
      Spot_Conlon, Racetrack_Higgins
  Additional Tags:
      Gay_Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub_Sex, Bathroom_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-19 Words: 5282
****** A Porcelain Tub with Boilin' Water ******
by atashi7
Summary
     Spot has a surprise for Race, which probably more to his liking than
     Race's.
Notes
     Another fic of Sprace, and this one in the canon timeline! I can't
     stop writing about them, honestly... Shameful I really didn't dare to
     use their slang words since English is not even my first language.
     Anyway, the other fic I'm working on keep growing longer I'm not sure
     I can finish it in near time. This one supposed to be connected with
     that, but since I'm impatient and didn't have much time, I upload
     this one first. I hope this will be enjoyable!
See the end of the work for more notes
Spot just appeared all of the sudden on Race’s way to the sell the rest of his
papes after betting half of his morning earnings today in Sheepshead.
“Come with me, Race,” He said almost immediately. The feared leader of New
York’s most respected borough was in the fair mood, though it’s certainly won’t
show to anyone else –but Race know Spot best. Race watched blue eyes glinted
and he could almost trace a flush of excitement blossomed on the pale cheeks.
Race hated every time he had to turn Spot down, but he got to finish his papes
or he might not be able to collect enough for the lodging fee by the end of
this month. He and his stupid habit to submit himself on the feet of lady of
luck, which was never really on his side. He said that to Spot, hopefully be
able to get Spot to grasp the urgency of his matter right now, but Spot’s
answer was surprising.
“I’ll buy the rest of your papes.”
Race blinked, “Cannot do, Conlon, I still got more than twenty in my hand right
now. I cannot make you do that.”
Spot stepped closer to him, “But I want to. And there’s no defying me,
Higgins.” He offered a smirk and his cane head poked on Race’s jaw, might look
dangerously for other but Race knew Spot won’t hurt him. Race took off his hat
to scratch on the back of his head, genuinely in loss, “What’s this all about,
Spot?”
“You just hafta to come with me.”
Race followed the younger boy strolled down the Brooklyn’s street, destination
unknown and Spot weren’t telling.
“Where are we going?”
The king of Brooklyn flashed him a smile and pulled Race’s hand instead, urged
him to come faster. They turned to a smaller path lead to a rows of motels and
rickety bars, part of Brooklyn Race never really visited that much even back
then when he still lived there. It’s the shadiest part of the town, they passed
by some ladies put on barely anything called and waved from behind the opened
doors and balconies. Race’s cheeks grew warm with the sight of them dolls
straddling on their drunk guest’s lap, giggling when rough hands sneaked behind
their skirt or pulling their top off. He ducked down his head throughout their
way to avoid seeing more, but still ended up steaming red listening to all the
slurty squeal and audible moans behind the thin walls.
They finally stop in front of a six storey building cramped between other
shorter ones, but as rickety. He startled himself when Spot pulled him close
and gripped him by the waist, shot him a look then entered the door. It was as
worn-out as other building in this street might look like from inside, but this
one was indeed had the most height, might be the biggest one around here. Race
still didn’t know what Spot are up to –he didn’t remember they’re ever here
before. But Spot certainly had at least once or maybe more, because the second
they walked in, the lady on the front desk quickly jumped from his patron’s
lap, her voice was as sugary as her scent when she address Spot delightly,
“Spottie honey! You’re here!”
The lady ran to them was beautiful -her hazel eyes round and bright, curly red
hair rolled to a high braided twist, curvy, plump body dressed in an off-
shoulder, very low-collared gown. Both Spot and Race didn’t really have time to
react –She pulled Spot right away and buried the blond head onto her revealed
bosom just like that.
“You are really back! We didn’t see you for almost a year! Vanilla said you
will come today and you really do! Oh, I miss you, heartbeat!”
“Lovelace –“
Lovelace didn’t listen, and continue her antics to put sloppy kisses all over
Spot’s face. Race barked out a hearty laugh seeing Spot’s pissed face covered
in red rogue splotches, squirmed between Lovelace’s wet smacks and managed to
let out, “Lovelace, I need to go. Let me go now, pretty. We got plenty time
after, but for now I have a matter in hand.”
That sent Lovelace aback, she turned to Race and her eyes lit, “Oh my, is he?!”
Spot smirked, tried to scrub the kisses marks away with his sleeves, didn’t
realize he smeared them worse, “Yeah.”
Race’s amused snicker died down with the change of talk, and now he’s confused,
again.
“How lovely! What’s your name, cake?”
Race blinked, still bewildered with all the situation and conversation, but
answered still, “Um, it’s Race.”
“Look at your tiny crooked teeth! How cute!” Race blushed a little, and now was
his turn to be pulled in between Lovelace’s cream-colored bust. He regret
laughing at Spot before because it’s actually very suffocating. Luckily Spot
halted before Lovelace could get to any kissing, putting his cane under
Lovelace’s prominent nose and pulled a menacing smile.
“Not this one.”
Lovelace returned it with a silent gaze, but then she quickly put back on her
smile and sugary voice, “Spottie honey are really lousy at sharing like usual.”
Spot only shrugged, “So, my key?”
Lovelace grabbed a key from between her supple breast and swing it to Spot,
“It’s not easy to get this one, y’know honey? It’s realllyyy not easy, you know
how Madame is.”
Spot rolled his eyes, “I got it, Lovelace. It’s like what I discussed with
Vanilla.”
“I’m glad then.” Lovelace winked, but something pretty menacing with the way
she tug her smile even wider, “I just have to make sure, you know darling, to
not say to Madame by mistake on how you actually dropped by.”
Spot lifted his jaw high, sending Lovelace a stern look.
“Alright, Spottie sweetie.” On the next blink she’s back to her sugary self,
leaned and spilled her bosom onto the top of the desk, batting her eyelashes in
flirtatious manner, “So do I get to kiss your Little Racey after you done?”
“Never.” Spot grabbed Race towards the stairs. Lovelace waved Race a kiss,
“Let’s have fun later Race dear, when Spot’s not looking!”
Race awkwardly wave back, and catching up to walk beside Spot, “Spot, once
again –what’s this all about?”
“It’s a treasure.” Spot hold up his key, lip pulled a rare-sighted smile.
Race rolled his eyes. He licked on his thumb and used it to rub the leftover
smear off Spot’s face, “Right, like that explain everything.”
He followed from behind Spot and thinking, then asked, “Lovelace said you used
to come here before?”
“It’s just business, Racetrack.” Spot mumbled, “I have to go here and there a
lot.”
Race scowled. Spot glanced back at him. He stopped to caress Race by his cheek,
“I barely half of most ladies’ height here, Racetrack. I can do nothing with
them.”
“It’s just you being secretive all the time annoyed me.” Race scoffed.
“This one secret you’re going to like.” Spot took his hand and continued their
walk. Race was unwilling but he followed Spot nevertheless. The building was
filled with the faint rustle of bed sheet, giggle and groan and sounds of bed
frame shook and skin slapped onto each other, but they got fainter and fainter
as the pair go way up to the top floor.
Spot lead their way to a door on the farther wall and clicked it open with the
key given by Lovelace. He turned his head to Race and Race saw Spot wasn’t just
happy –he beamed. He made a gesture to Race to enter first, and Race thought
he’s hearing water.
His ear wasn’t fooling him –in front of him was a classy clawfoot bath tub,
full with steamy water scented in rose. The tub was sparkling white and
glistening, it was porcelain. It looked very out of place to its surrounding of
plain, wooden attic, though the attic was actually taken care well, it might be
the cleanest part of building from what Race have passed upon. The wood were
all polished and colored in darker brown, with matching furniture arranged
inside, a giant cupboard with flowery carved frame stood on the corner and
wine-red couch rested near the door, accompanied with low table with a bowl of
fruits sitting on top of it.
Race glanced back to Spot, who locked the door behind them and put his cane
away onto the couch.
Spot announced grandly, “A porcelain tub with boiling water!”
Race laughed, “I can’t believe this.” He walked closer then around the tub,
eyeing so-called treasure with amused grin, “How’s this working?”
“Isn’t this mad? This inn just got this installed. They’re boiling it far under
us and bring it up here all hot and steamy and heavenly.” Spot practically
jumped to Race’s side, grin never left his face since they walked in.
“Yeah…” Race was as joyous as the other with all the rare display, though he
still didn’t get what they’re going to do with it –he didn’t suppose they
will…?
“And this supposed to be very exclusively used, of course.” Spot reached for
Race’s hand, gently pull him in a hug, “But I took care of some arrangement, so
we both can try it out today.”
Apparently Race was right –he felt his face warm, “What? Spot,”
“Come on, Race. It’s just for today and probably never again.”
Race bowed his head, embarrassed but thinking it out.
“It just feels so wrong, doing it in the middle of broad daylight.” Race
chuckled nervously. But it’s not like he will ever say no anyway to Spot’s
invitation, so he nodded and lessened the distance between them. Spot reached
to silently unbuttoned Race’s vest. When he was done, Race shrugged it off and
loosened both suspender straps off his shoulder. He then helped back to took
off Spot’s, and the checkered shirt was off faster –the blond never buttoned up
that much anyway. They’re halfway done with the clothing and leaving only their
underpants on, when Spot suddenly inhaled deeply then hurried his lips onto
Race’s. Race hummed and opened up his mouth, and Spot immediately curled his
way in. He pulled Race closer, one hand clawed to his back and other to tug on
the black wavy mane, while Race’s arms thrown around his lover's lean neck,
fingers grasped between Spot’s locks.
He gasped between the lick and bit Spot showered in and around his mouth, and
tugged and traced back. It’s not inside some dark alley against the rough wall
where Race had to tone it down, it’s not in either Manhattan’s or Brooklyn’s
lodging house’s shower stall where they had to sneak up and make no sound,
they’re by their own and in a part of building where everyone else practically
doing same thing they did now. That gave Race a sense of freedom, and he let
out a delighted moan.
Race was at loss when Spot pulled away from the kiss, and he must showed it on
face because Spot chuckled, comforting, “Come, now. Shall we test the water?”
They took off their last piece of clothing remaining, and Race let his gaze
wander to the bare figure of Spot Conlon –it’s of course not the first time,
but it might be the most vivid one with all the light filling the room and them
able to take their time.
Spot looked thin and almost fragile with his lean line, rib bones protruding
faintly under the sleek chest, rowed down to the flat abdomen adored with
supple but tight ripples. Arms rested by each side and legs standing in front
of Race were long and bony, wrapped in taut muscles, hair barely seen and so
light in color. Traces of brute fights scared almost all over the frame, be
them from slice of knife or stab of dagger or slap of whip, even one terrible
burn from when his back was splotched with a branding iron and a faded shot
wound on his waist Spot magically survived.
“You’re liking the view or something?”
Race went red when he realized Spot caught him staring, but the latter looked
amused. He reached to brush a fingertip along Spot’s torso and drawled softly,
“You have been through so much, huh, Spot?”
Spot glanced at him, “Well, it ain’t easy.” Blue eyes softened, “But I lived.”
And to that, Race thanked God. He gently cupped Spot’s face and brushed their
lips, then put his arm around the frame in an embrace.
Race was a chatter, he breathed cigars and jumped around and drink and gamble.
He was rough with his words and his hand, but Spot wondered how he could be so
much loving at the same time. With Spot and when it’s just two of them like
this, Race felt almost motherly, pouring him with such affectionate, gentle
attention and gaze.
Sometimes it’s too much that he had to hurt Race just so they could feel good. 
But they both know they didn’t want to stop. Spot dragged Race to get into the
tub, and it surprised Race how comforting it felt just by his leg in. He dunked
deeper till it’s only his head left above the water, and he almost whimpered.
Race never expected the activity of drowning your body in hot water will be
this relieving. It’s as if all his muscles straighten and his bones smoothened.
He opened his eyes and watched Spot, kneeling behind the tub, still dry but
smiling, “You enjoy it?”
“I’ll make a space.” Race turned his body towards Spot’s, “Let’s get in
together.”
“I plan to.” Spot dipped in, then slowly made his way to cramped in the tub,
facing Race. He closed his eyes, face so peacefully contented, like he gained a
ticket to heaven or something. But when he opened his eyes, Race saw his face
fell.
“Spot?”
“I’m going to miss this a lot, and this might be the only time.”
Race laughed, crawled closer and rested his head on Spot’s chest. Their limbs
tangled and the tub barely had space like this, but it’s comfortable. Spot
caressed the dark locks he loved, curled his lips to ghost kisses here and
there.
“What’s the ‘arrangement’ you do to get your hand on this?” Race glanced up to
Spot.
Spot shrugged.
“We need to work on this, y’know.” Pair of eyebrows furrowed in and Race fold
his lips in a pout, “You being all no-telling me nothin’.”
Spot ducked his head to the crook of Race’s neck, just resting and stayed
quiet.
Race was about to say another plea but Spot murmured, “You don’t have to know
all things I get my hands dirty with.”
“I don’t even know one.” Race stroked Spot on behind his head, “Think I can’t
handle it? I live off the street too.”
“But you ain’t in Brooklyn.” Spot sided his head, capturing Race’s neck in
kiss.
Race gasped a bit when Spot suckled his way around, “That doesn’t matter.” He
tugged on Spot to look at him, “You matters.”
Race saw himself reflected upon Spot’s pool of blue, but then Spot just rubbed
his head under Race’s jaw and pulled him closer, arms circled tight around
Race’s waist. Water splashed around them, spotted the wooden floor with darker
shade. They stayed like that for some good minutes, no words exchanged and
their breaths soft and steady. Race could almost listen to the steam dispersed
into the thin air.
He poked around Spot’s ribcage, whispered, “Spot, are you asleep?”
A mumble, “No.”
“Then why are you so silent?”
“Because I don’t like our talk.”
Race sighed. He hummed, “Alright. But you said earlier we’re going to have a
good time. Are we not starting?”
To this, Spot looked up. And hurriedly went for a kiss. One different than
before –this one was almost desperate than gentle. Their kiss pushed Race to
the other edge of the tub, he moaned and Spot invited his tongue inside. Made
its way around and traced on Race’s upper teeth, curled itself against Race’s.
Race moaned as Spot palmed on his nipples, caressing and tugging.  He broke the
kiss to nibble around the nubs, made Race breathed out a string of whimper.
Spot left couple of marks marring the smooth skin around Race’s shoulder and
above his chest, then back to nibble around the neck. Pale fingers crawled
underwater to pump their throbbing members altogether.
“Spot, think I can…?” Race panted. Spot didn’t understand, but he stopped and
complied Race’s gesture to pull his body out of the water, until the surface
was his knee-height. Race took him and put Spot’s cock inside his mouth, and
Spot shuddered. He grasped around Race’s wet locks and bit onto his knuckle,
groaned when his lover shifted his way up and down pleasuring him.
“Race, enough, I almost –“ Spot pushed on Race’s shoulder, and Race let go,
saliva dribbled down his chin and a string still sticking to Spot’s tip, “I
want to… inside.”
“Sure.” Race moved back and Spot stooped down back to the water. He turned
Race’s body so the back laid against his chest, and Race moved to dangle his
legs on the top side of the tub, giving Spot space to work around between his
legs. Spot filled Race’s hot cavity with his two fingers, pulling out when
they’re slick enough. He had to blindly touched at first, but then quickly
found his way in.
“Ah,” Race yelped.
Spot rushed worriedly, “Hurt?”
“J-just the water…” Race grunted, “Weird, s’all.”
The older boy wriggled onto Spot’s thrust, arm threw back to grip on Spot’s
neck and tilted his head to catch him in sloppy kisses which Spot messily
returned. Race squirmed and jerked so much that they teeth bumped and lips got
bruised more than anything, but they stay unlatched. He then came with violent
shake and groan muffled onto Spot’s lips smashed against his own.
“Race,” Spot called, pushed Race softly and Race obeyed, lifted his rear and
let Spot replaced his fingers with his cock. The water streamed their way in as
Spot pierced into the hole, and Race trembled. He shut his eyes, Spot gripped
tight to his hips it might left marks, the younger’s mouth pleasured him with
licks and bites around his ear. Spot pulled and pushed Race up and down onto
his lap, watching Race’s backside grew in shades of red from the steam and from
the shared body heat.
“Good, Race, is it good?”
“G-good… Just. Faster…”
This statement encouraged Spot, which then pushed Race on his four, bent his
knee before Race and slammed harder inside and out.  Race clenched his fist to
the side of tub, screamed out Spot’s name between his ragged, hot breath, made
Spot faced up to the ceiling, ears ringing and too deep in pleasure.
“Spot, Spot!”
Spot glanced down to the body shook against him, the previous gentle affection
now dominated with the lust to claim, to do not let anyone touch Race ever
again, to keep Race by his side forever and screaming his name like this. The
water around them splattered and splashed as they moved intensely, flooding the
floor and pooled around the pile of their clothing left there. Race almost
slipped on his grip when he finally felt a stream of shock ran within his body,
sending him over the edge and he choked as he poured himself all over the white
surface of porcelain, entire body tighten and tensed. It was too much to Spot
to handle, and when it finally hit him, he came inside Race’s warm confine with
a groan.
It was almost silent as they tried to catch their breaths, and Race broke it
off with a laugh.
“It’s barely half of tub left inside.”
***
Race tugged open the clog of bath tub’s drain and watched as the rest of water
disappear in a whirlpool. He’s assigned to refill the water in the tub while
Spot will search for maybe a bar of soap they can use to clean themselves. Race
tried on each faucet, still in disbelief how hot water indeed magically
spluttered out from the faucet with red markings.
Spot looked around and his eyes fell to the wooden cupboard on the back of the
room. He tried open it up, a bit in surprise because he thought earlier it’s
locked. His eyes grew wide when he saw what’s inside.
 “Whoa, Race. Look at this.”
Apparently the cupboard was not only filled with luxury choices of toiletries,
but also pile of clean towels and bathrobes. There’re also bottles and jars
with labels arranged in row with various other purposes.
“What a service.” Spot took two piece of bathrobes, handing one to Race, “They
won’t mind if I take one or two piece of towel for boys back at lodging house,
yea?”
“Probably will, but since how you’re their ‘Spottie Honey’,” Race sneered,
“Maybe they won’t.”
Spot scoffed at the teasing, and Race put on his bathrobe, “If only they got
spare of clothes, too, eh?” He followed Spot eyeing each bottles and jars, and
his eyes stumbled upon bottled scented oils located on the lowest rack.
“Oh, shame, Spot.” Race picked one and showed Spot the labels, “I could use
some for my rear.”
“Oh…” Spot raised his eyebrow, interested, “I’ll take this, then, thank you
very much.”
Race laughed. Spot really took the oil, slipping it into his bathrobe sleeves.
He took a glance between two bottles of soap and asked, “Which one Race, Goat
Milk with Avocado Oil and Honey, or Dead Sea Salt Scrub?”
“The first one because it sounds tasty.”
Spot glanced up to the paper boxes on the farthest rack and reached for one of
them.
“Holy cow, this is –what they usually call this?” Spot’s voice cracked with
excitement, “Something like bath, and something kitchen related after that?”
“Huh?” Race blinked.
“Oh, right. Bath salt.” Spot read the labels and his face lightened up even
more, “They have so many types of it too, can you believe it Race? There’s
this, bergamot and lavender, and… eucalyptus and vanilla, and peppermint and
orange, and… rose and milk? Amazing.”
Race shook his head, “I never know there’re so much resemblances in ingredients
to bath and to cook.”
“Which one, Race? Pick one.”
Spot looked really, really too happy for his own good. Race squinted his eyes
to Spot, shooting him a look, “And Spot, I never know you have such obsession
in bathing.”
Spot hummed, “Do I?”
“I’m starting to think you do.” Race closed one side of cupboard to lean on it.
Spot didn’t answer –instead, he shoved the rose and milk bath salt bottle under
Race’s nose, “This one then?”
Race pointed to the orange bottle of bergamot and lavender, “No, I like that
one.”
“I still like this one better.” Spot compared two bottles, torn.
Race rolled his eyes, “Is it as important as who you’re going to dip into it
with?”
Spot flashed him a grin, “You can’t be jealous of some bath salt, Racetrack.”
***
When they’re done, other lady was sitting behind of front desk, replacing
Lovelace. She’s in the middle of polishing her nail with a red-tinted lacquer
when Race and Spot appeared. This one got a black straight hair with a little
curls at the end, half of them tied in a bun and the other fell down almost to
her waist. She’s wearing an almost see-through lacey lingerie, and certainly
didn’t put on anything else inside. She said, her voice breathy as if she’s
moaning all the time, “Enjoying the bath, sweetheart?”
“Vanilla.” Spot smirked.
“And this must be the Little Racey Tracky.” Vanilla glanced at Race from behind
her half-lidded eyes, “What a cutie. Are you enjoying yourself, too?”
“Uh, yeah. Thank you for lending us the room.” Race flushed a little –She’s for
sure know what they’re doing up there.
“No worries, sugar.” Vanilla always drawled the end of her words slowly. She
watched Spot, face teasing, “Madame loves Spottie honey so much, you know, so
I’m sure Little Racey and Spottie will be allowed here anytime they want.”
Spot scoffed, “Thank you anyway.”
“It’s all my pleasure, dear, really.” Vanilla bowed down and Spot let her
kissed on his cheek. Race saw Spot flashed a roll of money into her cleavage,
and he wondered if he had to pretend he didn’t see that.
Spot tipped his hat with his cane and nodded, while Race sent Vanilla a grin
(replied with a wink) before he was pulled towards the street. It was a faster
trip going back than this morning when they’re going there. They strolled down
the bridge, somewhat in silence, which was pretty rare. But Spot looked like
he’s in the middle of some thinking, so Race let him.
“You remember Damian?” Spot asked all of sudden. Race’s memories flashed an
image of one certain brunette of Brooklyn newsies, three or four years younger
than Race.
“Yea. What about him?”
“It’s about three years ago, he spotted a lady on street he dig in so much.
That girl was helping in a tailor, and her boss always sent her to buy
newspaper every morning, and the girl always buy from Damian. Every fucking
day.” Spot continued, “Then one day she went missing, she stopped coming to the
tailor and to Damian, gone just like that.”
“Uh huh.” Race blinked, “Then?”
“It’s really not supposed to be my problem, but I kinda like Damian, so I sent
some boys to find out about her and look for her. Then we found out she lived
with his uncle all this time with her parents gone and everything, and, well.”
Spot looked at Race, “Apparently, his uncle sell her off.”
Race frowned, “But you find her where?”
Spot stopped, voice stern as he replied, “That inn we just visited.” He
explained, “Well they did do that kind of business. Buying little girls with
look and trained them for customers, and such.”
Those kind of stories, as cruel as it is, were actually not really surprising
for those orphans and kids living off streets. Some who weren’t sold off were
abandoned, that could be a better or worse experience depended on which way to
look at it.
Race fell silent, before went cold with a possibility, “She’s not Lovelace,
right?”
“No, no.” Spot laughed, “No, Race. Lovelace are probably around her thirties or
something. She got there by herself or if she was sold too, that must have
happened long time ago.”
“Whoa, really?” Race was genuinely amazed.
“Yeah. Anyway.” Spot went on, “Damian was crushed when I told him that. Like,
he was terribly broken and shattered and you can look by the way he woke up
like he had missed sunlight for entire year. And I, well… I…” Spot drawled, “I
kinda make a deal with that Madame, she’s the owner of the inn, to… let’s just
say, buy her back. So yeah, that’s how I used to go there before.”
“You did that?” Race felt his chest grew warm and proud, but then he asked
slowly, “And what exactly is this ‘deal’ though?”
Spot stayed quiet, and Race punched him on his back.
“Ooow, Race! What’s that all about?!”
“Tell me, Conlon.”
“I told you enough, didn’t I?” Spot swifted his eyes, “I’m not telling any
further.”
“Alright.” Race walked faster, leaving Spot, “I won’t ask.”
Spot blinked several times, then caught up to Race’s side, “You’re angry.”
“Weird, is it? I should’ve been used to it.”
“Racetrack…” Spot bit onto his lip, stopped. Race didn’t pay him any slight
glance, continued to stomp away with furrowed eyebrows. Spot sighed, reached to
grab Race by his shoulder.
“Alright. But I cautioned you.”
Spot pulled a deep breath, and muttered, “I didn’t buy her back. I traded her.”
Race’s furrow went deeper.
“We gathered several girls from Flushing and Woodside.” Spot continued, voice
low, “Charmed them with possibility of the earnings. We didn’t lie or pushed
them, they signed up themselves. And they’re all older than fifteen. Some were
just very desperate.”
Spot could feel Race’s stare at him, but he’s still unwilling to return the
gaze, “I didn’t proud of what I have done, but at least they’re not forced nor
they’re underage.”
“I guess.” Race mumbled.
Spot dared himself to turn face Race. He eyes widened on the sight of Race
bowing his head down, and looked sad.
“What happened?”
“Sorry,” Race spoke up silently, “Sorry I pushed you to tell all that.”
Spot eyes grew soft, so with his voice, as he leaned to Racetrack and
explained, “I –I want to tell you… Everything, Racetrack. But sometimes, I
rather…not.” He caressed on Race’s check, “I rather not seeing you making a
face like this.”
“But I rather to know!” Race stated. Spot looked surprised because he
practically shouted, and Race blushed, “Sorry. I-um, Spot. I just… love you, I
guess. I… want to get share of your burden and want to know everything about
what are you doing or what are you thinking.”
Spot looked nervous on this, and Race hurriedly said, “I-I won’t really push
you though. I know you’re not the telling type. But you know now that I want
to, and I know now why sometimes you don’t want to tell, so…” Race was at loss
in words, “I don’t know, honestly. What did we get from this?”
Spot broke a laugh, and Race laughed with him.
“Thank you, Race.” Spot smiled at him.
“Yeah.” Race smiled back, “So, but about this one, just a little question
bugging me. Can I –um, ask?”
Spot laughed. He swung his arm around Race’s shoulder to loosen the other boy,
“Go ahead.”
“So this Madame, does she hate you or does she actually like you?” Race asked,
“Because you know, Lovelace made it look like she doesn’t want you to come, but
Vanilla said she really likes you, and I didn’t know which one is actually true
and which one are actually teasing…”
Spot scrunched his face in a disgust on Race’s question.
“That woman want to adopt me.”
Race widened his eyes, “Oh, wow.”
“She’s kinda scary, or just sick, I guess.” Spot said bitterly, “I used to come
there only to settle our deal at first. She kept saying how she’s amazed on how
I negotiate and settling the deal, how I’m just like her lost son, how she’ll
needed someone like me to, ugh, continued her business. But I rejected her
flat.”
“Alright…” Race was still amazed. Spot stopped there, and he looked at Race.
Race blinked, “Oh, just that? I thought there’re more stories to it.”
“Um, it is.” Spot put his hand behind his neck, “But I think we can save it to
another time?”
The older boy nodded, “Sure.”
“Race laughed, “Is it too much for you to spill for one day worth?”
Spot patted Race by his shoulder, “No, it’s just we have arrived.”
Race never realized they actually were in front of Manhattan’s lodging house
already.
“Uh, see you tomorrow I guess?” Race smiled.
“Sure.” Spot smiled back, “Oh, and.” He reached for Race’s hand and put
something in his fist.
“What’s this, Spot –“
His words cut off by a smash of other lips onto his.
“Until next time,” Spot whispered, laid another peck before turned and walked
his way back.
Race opened his palm, revealing pile of coins worth of twenty papes and a small
bottle. Eyebrows furrowed, he flipped the bottle to see the label: Coconut Oil
Lubricants.
“Christ.” Race laughed.
 
***
End Notes
     I might write more about Spot and that certain Madame, I hope I can
     find time to. Thank you for reading!
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