It was 2:30 in the morning, and Spot’s eyes were barely open. Race was sitting down with Finch and Albert and a shitty deck of cards on the floor, cigar in his mouth and cursing like a sailor. The three of them were not only awake, but were loudly roughhousing and fighting over who won what round.
“Race, please, just come to bed. It’s been three hours.” Spot yawned, rubbing his eyes in the vain hope that it would keep him awake.
“Spot,” Race said, not glancing up from his cards. “I got a winnin’ streak here, ain’t nobody gonna pull me away.”
“Oh?” Spot asked, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like a challenge.”
“Don’t even think about it, Conlon.” Race said, throwing his cards on the table and whooping at his win while Albert and Finch yelled in anger.
Spot rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the bunk, clinging onto the last bits of consciousness as he crossed the floor of the lodging house. Race’s arms were wide out on either side of him as he celebrated his win, and Spot took that opportunity to plunk himself right into Race’s lap.
“Conlon, what are ya doin’?” Race asked, dropping his hands in surprise.
“I wanted to cuddle,” Spot responded, shifting slightly and tucking his head in the crook of Race’s arm. “And you wouldn’t get up.”
“Hey, no fair, you don’t get help!” Albert complained.
“Albert, ya dummy, he’s gonna win whether Spot’s there or not.” Finch shook his head.
When Race was looking at his newest hand, Spot shifted very slightly, almost invisibly, closer to Race’s ear. Race leaned forward to exchange a card, and Spot lifted his head and whispered something in Race’s ear that made him turn bright red and drop his cards.
“Damn, Higgins, that’s the worst hand you’ve played in weeks!” Finch exclaimed.
“Sucks he hasn’t had the time to get cocky yet, otherwise you’d have won a lot more back.” Albert said.
“Albert, he’s always cocky.” Finch rolled his eyes.
"I didn’t put my hand down! Spot made me drop my cards!” Race frowned.
“The point is your cards are on the table and ya lost, ya dummy.” Finch said, scooping coins into his palm.
“Spot, I can’t believe this.” Race said, looking down at the boy in his lap in disbelief. Spot just shrugged and snuggled closer to Race, who wrapped an arm around him and tapped the table so Albert would deal him a new hand.
Three rounds later, once Race had won back what he’d lost and more, Spot surged up and kissed Race, carding his hands in Race’s hair and holding his face close to his own. Race quickly forgot the cards in his hand and kissed Spot back. Race dropped his cards on the table and tugged Spot as close as he could by the hips.
“Hey. Hey. Higgins. Quit kissin’ on Conlon, ya lost again.” Albert grinned. He and Finch high-fived and Albert scooped money into his hand, laughing at the look on Race’s face when Spot pulled away.
The third time Spot made Race lose, he started to catch on. When Spot moved to whisper into Race’s ear again, Race just threw his hand on the table and picked Spot up.
“Race- Racetrack what are you doing?” Spot asked, clinging to Race’s shoulders as Race carried him across the room.
“We’re going to bed. You’re not gonna let me gamble in peace.” Race said, shaking his head.
Spot could hear Albert and Finch teasing them and crowing over their new fortune on the floor, but he was mostly concerned with how gently Race was laying him on the bunk. Spot burrowed into Race and Race curled himself around Spot, wrapping a blanket over the both of them and pressing a kiss to the top of Spot’s head.
“G’night.” Spot murmured drowsily.
“Night.” Race responded, tucking his chin on Spot’s head and holding him closer as Spot drifted to sleep.
SUMMARY: Dan and Phil decide it’s the right time to come out. Later, in Dan’s liveshow, fans ask them to kiss. WORD COUNT: 2,170 WARNINGS: shameless fluff A/N: so this fic is literally1,465 words longer than i thought it would be bc of the domestic intro and the liveshow. i also hope you like the edits bc i did them by myself. painstakingly slowly. remember my prompts are open here lowkey pulled inspiration from realityisnoplacetolive’sProblematic
Dan walked the long stairs to their apartment quickly, glad to be out of the harsh cold of the London air. He loved London and would hate to move, but sometimes he mentally cursed Britain’s strange ability to be constantly cold. Making his way quickly up the thousands of flights of stairs, he managed to make his way to their door. He looked momentarily behind him at their neighbor’s door, decorated with a wreath, and considered going out later to get one, but the harsh cold that had managed to chill him to the bone convinced him otherwise.
Dan pushed open the door and was greeted immediately with the smell of the fajitas that he and Phil had been making together when Phil realized they were out of fajita seasoning and given Dan puppy dog eyes that were unfortunately irresistible. Phil was very loudly singing along to Dan’s “C Word” music Pandora station. “Dashing through the snow! In a one horse open sleigh! O’er the hills we go! Laughing all the way!”
idk its rly simple but i like it lmao au were jongs famous ™ and kibums a 7-11 clerk and jong comes in sometimes and just buys an icee
“Can I ask you something?” he asks, tugging Jonghyun’s drink closer to scan. Jonghyun raises his own brows, looking him up and down quickly. Kibum doesn’t know what he’s looking for; it’s not like he’s a new human in Jonghyun’s life or anything. He’s seen Kibum almost every Tuesday for over a year.
“I mean, I don’t know,” he says. “Depends on what it is.”