#well at least it makes more sense than Venom's being 'assimilation' lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

must-be-brooklyn · 6 years ago

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could you do something angsty with Spot proposing to Race modern au?

Angsty proposal - not something I’ve ever really thought about, but I did my best! I hope it’s at least half decent hahaha

Ship: Sprace

Words: 1.9k

Era: Modern au

Also — it is actually just angst. Well, angst and then a follow-up bit. I also have the obligatory, sappy, extra, make-up bit and ehhh I might post that later if anyone wants it - for now I decided to just stick to the ask and fulfil the ask as an interpretation of what was requested!

The //angst// stops as “His eyes stung with unshed tears that were finally beginning to bead as he realised what had just happened.” After that it becomes more ~~discussiony/leading-into-the-pt-2-that-I-may-or-may-not-post~~ lol

And we’ve got some very ooc characters probably because I still don’t know how to personify them lmao. At this point, I have given up on the accent so much that I’m barely even writing it — so use your imagination!!

Warnings: cursing? tell me if you want me to flag anything else

“Will you marry me?” Spot looked at him expectantly, twisting a plastic ring that could not possibly have cost more than two dollars between his fingers.

Race stared at him, horrified. It was like his heart had suddenly started seizing and he could not breathe properly. “What?” he said, fully aware of how his voice broke as if he was going through puberty again. By his sides, his hands clenched into tight fists, but he could barely feel his nails digging into his palms. “You’re joking?”

Spot shrugged. “No? We’re living together, neither of us have proper health care arrangements, taxes are risin’ and it would grant you automatic citizenship, and I know you’re applying for it at the moment.”

“That’s so low.” Race took a step away from Spot as his face became even grimmer. “That’s so fucking low, Spot.”

For his part, Spot genuinely looked confused about what he had said that was so wrong. His fingers were curling around the ring, though, and he pulled it out of Race’s sight. “I don’t understand…” he started, “You’ve been talkin’ about gettin’ citizenship for ages. And, tax benefits would be good for both of us. It’s a win-win situation.”

Shaking his head, Race took a few more steps away from Spot. His stomach was curling as he thought about what Spot was saying. “A marriage of convenience is not a win-win,” he spat. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest that.”

“You said you don’t believe in marriage, though,” Spot said. He sounded a little strained, now, and deep frown lines marred his forehead, disfiguring the normally smooth skin. “It’s not like I’m asking you to wear a ring or anything. You could still date whoever you want” – he swallowed heavily before continuing – “And we could get divorced if one of us actually did want to get married. But, it’s thirty-five dollars to get a licence and we’d both benefit from it.”

Race laughed hysterically. “Benefit?” The more worked up he got, the more his Italian accent began to work its way through. Since he had moved to New York on a full ballet scholarship for college four years ago, he had worked hard to assimilate. He sounded almost completely fluent in English now, but there were still times when his Italian vowels showed loud and clear. “What the hell kind of benefit is that?”

Spot looked distinctly uncomfortable. He gave a meek shrug and leaned against the kitchen counter, hands slowly moving into the pockets on his jeans.

“I’m going somewhere else tonight,” Race said, whipping around on his heel and storming out of the kitchen.

Spot rushed after him. “I’m sayin’ we have to kiss or anythin’. We don’t even have to tell people. It’d just benefit both of us, you know?” He stood adamantly in the doorway of Race’s bedroom, but Race refused to look at him as he threw a change of clothes into a rucksack and grabbed his dance bag with his other hand.

“Get out of the way,” Race said, scowling. He pulled bags onto his shoulders. The little patience and self-control he had left were rapidly disappearing. He could feel a wildfire that was only growing in his chest, and it was on the edge of spiralling out of control. “Spot, toglietevi di mezzo.” He hissed the words and the venom in them was palatable.

Finally, Race shoved past him and rushed out of the apartment with nothing in his mind but getting as far away from Spot as possible. His eyes stung with unshed tears that were finally beginning to bead as he realised what had just happened.

He stumbled blindly down the streets until he finally found himself in a different building, standing outside a door that was much too familiar. Resigned and exhausted, he knocked on the door and waited for someone to let him in.

It took only a few seconds for David to appear at the door, looking pleasantly surprised. “Race, hey. Do you want to come in?” he said, not even hesitating. It was times like this when Race truly appreciated how much David had acted as his surrogate parent since he had moved from Italy. He never questioned things until he knew the whole story, always had time to listen to other people’s problems and never held any (visible) prejudice, no matter what Race told him. And over the years, Race had told him some pretty dodgy stuff.

David took Race’s bags from him and dropped them in the entranceway. Race stepped in, not having realised until that second that he was shaking and his hands had gone numb.

“Race is here!” David called into the small flat as he guided Race into the sitting room with an arm around his shoulders. He sat Race down on the couch.

There was a thundering from somewhere deeper within the apartment and suddenly, Jack appeared in the room. The grin he wore slid off his face like mud as he took in Race’s appearance. “What happened?” His voice was low and vaguely threatening. “Who do I need to kill?”

Race shook his head. “I overreacted,” he said very slowly and even more quietly. Now that he was out of the flat, his head was slowly clearing as he did his best to rationalise everything that had happened. “I argued with Spot.”

“Spot,” Jack said, tone unreadable. “What did my stupid brother say this time?”

Stumbling over his words a little and with Jack and David on one side each, Race recounted exactly what had gone down just over an hour previously. The whole time, Jack made little noises of exasperation under his breath, moaning and rubbing his temples. David’s lips were pursed tightly.

“Spot’s an idiot,” Jack said immediately after Race finished talking. “And I’m going to knock some sense into him because he’s a stubborn ass who ain’t going to admit he’s wrong otherwise.”

Race shook his head. “No, please don’t.” He wrung his hands together and then shook them out. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Jack hesitated for a second and his eyes flickered toward David. He seemed conflicted, as though he could not decide what exactly the best course of action was when there were so many things that he wanted to say to Spot. Race tore his eyes away from them and stared at his hands, twisting them into knots on his lap and then undoing them.

“Of course, you can stay. You know the spare room is always made up,” David said softly, “But you know that you’ll have to talk to Spot at some point, right?”

Race swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Can I just go… Lie down?” They gave him a small sign of agreement and Race took himself to the small bedroom. It was not late, but for once in his life, he just wanted to be alone for a bit.

Originally, Jack and David had bought the apartment under the pretence of being friends and therefore needing two rooms, even though they had been dating for two years when they first moved in. They had never used that second bedroom, but they were enough like the honourary parents of their group that there seemed to be a constant stream of people who needed a place to spend a few nights.

Alone in the room, Race was left to his thoughts. The whole situation just felt mindboggling. Objectively, Race had absolutely no problem with marrying Spot. Except for the facts that they were not dating, and he was already having enough trouble suppressing his feelings as two friends living together. Spot’s proposal seemed a cruel joke.

By the time morning came, Race still felt slightly sick in the bottom of his stomach, but he pulled himself out of the bed and stumbled into the kitchen. Jack was standing by the counter, pouring coffee. A mug of tea was already steeping next to it. He greeted Race without looking up.

“D’you want any coffee?” Jack asked, reaching for another mug in the cupboard.

Race shook his head. He had ballet this morning, and his coach was making him, and everyone else in the cast of their newest production, avoid caffeine. “Do you have any eggs?” Those were one of the foods that the coach had been actively encouraging people to eat before coming in for rehearsal.

Jack put the coffee pot on the bench and found a teaspoon and the milk in the fridge. “Uh, yeah, a few… They’re kosher ones, but Dave won’t mind if you have them.”

“Kosher?” Race repeated. “I thought Davey didn’t do kosher.”

“It’s the…” Jack paused and screwed up his face, obviously doing his best to remember something, “Ten Days of Repentance?” He trailed off, before shaking his head and muttering under his breath, “Dave mostly calls it by the Hebrew name.”

Race looked at him questioningly.

“He only observes kosher durin’ the big holidays. Or at least observes it more strictly – there’s other stuff he doesn’t do and some stuff he does all year ‘round, anyway. But, whatever, yeah, he won’t mind you eatin’ the eggs.” Jack walked to the fridge and rummaged around until he found the eggs he had been talking about and a carton of milk.

Jack hummed under his breath as he moved around the kitchen, putting things in their various places and pulling a saucepan out for Race. “Where is Davey, anyway?” Race asked as he watched the scene.

Jack put the milk back in the fridge with a completely unnecessary flourish. “He had a bad night,” said Jack, his tone a touch more clipped. Race tried to ignore the roll in his stomach. “Anyway,” Jack continued, “About Spot. Seein’ as he’s my brother and all, can I please have permission to go and knock some sense into him. As your friend and his brother, it’s my duty.”

Suddenly, Race did not feel so hungry. He put the eggs down on the bench as he gave Jack a non-committal shrug. He could take what he liked from that; Race wanted no further part in anything to do with Spot until he had worked out a satisfactory way to apologise for the way he had acted and found a way to permanently remove his feelings.

Jack grinned at him. “Great.” He wrapped a hand around each mug on the bench and picked them up. “I’m goin’ back to Dave, now. But you know where stuff is, so I’m sure you can figure out how to boil an egg.”

“I’m sure,” Race agreed.

Nodding, Jack carried on as if he had not heard Race speak. “Yeah, and you can stay here again tonight if you need it. Also, just close the door behind yourself when you go to dance.” He walked towards the bedroom, but Race held him back for just a second longer.

“Really, Jack, thanks for everything,” he said, voice low.

Jack grinned at him and the liquid in the mugs slopped precariously up the sides. “It’s never a problem, Race.” His voice was oddly rough but his face doubled in warmth. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

part 2 (it’s hyperlinked!)

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