A/N

A request from someone on Tumblr. My first time writing Sprace, so please be gentle with criticism.

Race sighed as he opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter. Rehearsal for the show he was doing had run late again, and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and call his boyfriend, Spot.

One bowl of pre-made Mac and Cheese later Race was doing just that, or more accurately trying to. Spot wasn't picking up his phone, which wasn't exactly unusual. Spot often went off the grid for a few days at a time, busy with whatever the army had him doing wherever he was. What made Race nervous was that Spot always tried to let him know when this was going to happen, be it through a phone call or email.

A quick check of his email revealed that Spot hadn't sent him anything in the past few days, but Race still tried to remain calm despite the worry slowly building up in his stomach. He probably just forgot to tell me he was going off the grid he consoled himself, ignoring the little voice of doubt whispering in the back of his mind that Spot never forgot to let Race know when he would be out of touch.

Race went through the motions of getting ready for bed, pushing his worry away whenever it crowded into his brain and tried to make him second guess his original thought process. It was only when he was lying awake in the bed that was much too big now that Spot was gone that Race became powerless to stop his thoughts from turning to dark images of his boyfriend injured or even dead half a world away from him, images that made him shake in fear and panic and which were responsible for his not sleeping a wink that night.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Race didn't have a rehearsal the next day, so he attempted to call Spot again before realizing that wherever Spot was it was probably nighttime, so he was probably sleeping. The worry that had settled in Race's stomach the night before started to rise, but Race pushed it away and busied himself with mundane household tasks, such as cleaning the bathroom and doing the laundry.

It was when Race was dusting off the small bookshelf in the living room that his phone rang, making his heart leap. Scrambling to pull it out of his pocket he was disappointed to find that it wasn't Spot calling him, but an unknown number. Sending it to voicemail Race returned to the task at hand, stopping a minute later when his phone pinged, indicating that whoever had called had also left a voicemail.

Race held the phone up to his ear to listen, ready for the usual "Congratulations, you have won a free cruise!" spiel. What he heard instead made him go pale and caused him to sit down heavily in the middle of his apartment, his heart racing and his head pounding.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Private Sean Conlon?" the nurse called, looking around the waiting room expectantly.

Race practically jumped out of his seat, hurrying over to where she was standing.

"Anthony Higgins, I'm Spot's- I mean Sean's- boyfriend."

The nurse nodded, glancing at her clipboard. "Follow me please."

Race followed her down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. On the phone, they had told him that Spot's injuries weren't too serious, a broken arm and a few cracked ribs as a result of being thrown against a wall because of the impact of a nearby explosion, but Race's head was still filled with images of Spot dying in a hospital bed.

The nurse finally stopped in front of an innocuous wooden door. "Here you go. Private Conlon was sleeping a few hours ago, but he should be awake by now."

Race nodded, his eyes glued to the door. "Thank you."

The nurse gave him a small smile and moved away, leaving Race alone standing in front of the door to his boyfriend's hospital room. Taking a deep breath Race summoned all his courage and slowly opened the door and stepped into the small room.

Race sucked in his breath, unable to stop his eyes filling with tears when he saw his boyfriend for the first time in six months. Spot was sitting up in bed reading a magazine, his face covered in bruises, his right arm in a sling, and his side tightly bandaged.

Spot looked up at Race when he entered the room, his face breaking into a grin when he saw him. "Heya, dickhead. Miss me?"

Race stood in the doorway to the room for a moment longer, speechless, then crossed the room and enveloped Spot in a bone-crushing hug which caused Spot to grunt in surprise.

After a minute Race pulled away, wiping tears from his eyes. He and Spot stared at each other for a minute, then Race reached over and smacked Spot upside his head.

"Hey! What was that for?" Spot cried indignantly, rubbing the spot where Race had hit him.

"Promise never to scare me like that again, you idiot!" Race yelled, trying to look serious even as a smile tugged at his lips.

Spot laughed, stroking his chin as he pretended to think hard. "Only if you kiss me," he finally said, smirking.

"Gladly," Race replied, smiling as he leaned in for a warm and tender kiss which felt to him like the best kiss he had ever had.

A/N: Reviews would be greatly appreciated.