Chapter Text
They don’t last a day. They barely last an afternoon, and Spot doesn’t even see it coming. His mistake, really, but understandable, considering his situation. It isn’t reasonable to expect him to focus on anything outside of the room he’s in when he has Davey Jacobs’ head on his lap, his chest rising and falling steadily. Race is on the floor in front of them, idly massaging Spot’s leg. The sun is streaming through the cracked windows and hitting his head like a halo, and Spot gets the urge to kiss him, so he does.
He grabs onto Race’s collar and gently tugs, his boyfriend easily getting the hint. Race sits up and presses a kiss to Spot’s lips, and impish smile on his face.
As he sits down, Race looks back up at him. “What was that for?”
Shrug. “Nothin’. Just wanted to.” While they’re talking, Spot feels movement to the side of him, Davey stirring. He brings his hand up to rub his eyes and turns to look at Spot.
“How long was I out?” He asks groggily. His dark, curly hair is mussed and one side of his face his red from pressing against Spot’s leg.
Spot looks out through the windows. “Dunno. Bout an hour, I’d say.”
He sits up, shoulder pressed against Spot’s. “Sorry, I know you don’t like sittin’ still for that long.” He yawns, and Spot raises an eyebrow,
“Oh god, what torture, I had to sit in the sun with a cute boy layin’ on me for an hour. Whatever will I do.”
The boy tucks his face into Spot’s shoulder, and he can see a hint of red on his ears through his recently-cut hair. When he does this, what else can Spot do but press a kiss onto the top of his curls? Nothing, absolutely nothing.
“Awww you’s are cute,” Race sing-songs from his spot on the floor.
Spot kicks him. Lightly.
Race falls back and glares up at the two of them, Spot smirking and Davey trying to hide his laughs in his shoulder. “Evil. The both of you. You’re supposed to protect the lowly newsies of New York, and here you are, beatin’ us down.”
“No. Just you.” Spot grins, all teeth, but all he gets for his troubles is a tall, blonde boy launching himself at him. They bicker and push back and forth for a few seconds before Davey, who smartly jumped away before the attack, bursts into laughter. Their heads both whip towards him. “And what, President Jacobs, is so damn funny?”
“You. Both of you. All you do is argue. But you love each other. It's funny. Cute, but funny. Just never really hit me before. Sorry for interruptin’, do continue,” He teases.
Race sticks his tongue out at him, slipping off of Spot and into the middle of the couch. “Ain’t worth it now you called us cute. I’d rather get complimented by you and fight with him any day.”
Spot snorts. “See, I don’t believe you.”
“See? You fight like cats and dogs.”
“We do not!” Race crosses his arms, but Spot lightly nudges him.
“We kinda do, sugar.”
“Do not!”
“Do too.”
A loud groan escapes Davey. “You’re doing it right now. Stop,” He’s clearly attempting to look intimidating, but a smile is threatening to poke through.
Race turns his body towards him and raises an eyebrow. “Make me,” he says simply.
“You’re a child,” He says, but he’s blushing. Again , Spot’s brain supplies, and he smiles.
“If I were a child, what we’re about to do would be very creepy.” And he presses close to Davey and kisses him.
“That was a really weird thing to say,” he says, but it's muffled into a kiss and he forgets it quickly.
Spot is just about to move over and join them when he hears the floor creak and a small gasp from the direction of the door. Instinctively, he pulls Race away from Davey before looking up to the intruder. His hackles are up, and his hand twitches towards his cane, leaning against the couch, but when he finally registers a face, he recognises it. Not only that, he recognises her stance and the way her left shoulder pulls back when she’s shocked. A sigh of relief escapes his lips, and he lets go of Race’s collar. “Hotshot, what’re you doin’ here?”
She stares in stunned disbelief, hand still on the doorknob. “What am I doin’ here? What’re you doin’ here? With… is that the president kissin’ your boyfriend? What the fuck Spot?”
“Oi, language,” He says, by force of habit if nothing else. “Uh, it is the president, yeah. And it's more the vice president kissin’ the president, you know how it is.”
“Do I?,” she shrieks, and Davey covers his ears with his hands, wincing.
Always the peace-maker, he tries to step in. “Look, I know this looks bad…”
“You think?”
“I know this looks bad, but it’s not what you think.”
“Well, I think that it looks like you’re kissin’ my brother’s boyfriend right in front of him.”
“Well-”
Spot stepped in, he just had to. “Alright this is unbearable to watch, alright? Shot, Race is my boyfriend. Davey is also my boyfriend. Davey is also Race’s boyfriend. Just happened today, so don’t tell anyone.”
She clearly gets serious. “I wouldn’t.” She pulls Spot up, letting him lean on her a bit when his leg protests. Once they reach the corner of the room, she levels her gaze onto him. “You sure about this? You know what they do to guys like you, like all of you’s. This makes it riskier than just Racer.”
Spot gazes back at the two boys on his couch, hands intertwined and staring back at him. Davey bites his lip, Race’s leg bounces, and they both have a lingering flush on their cheeks. After a few moments, he nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so sure about anythin’.”
His sister nods and lets go of his shoulder. “Alright. You’re my brother and the king, so I trust you. Just… just be careful, alright? You won’t be a kid forever, and adults like you don’t go to the refuge, they go to jail.” She pauses a second. “Be careful,” She repeats, and then she’s gone, off to play or sell or enforce. Spot turns back and walks towards the couch.