Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.

Warning: This story still contains slash. And drug use. And violence. And sexual situations. This isn't going to change as those four things are my favorite things.

Pairings: You'll find out.

Getting Back Together Again
Epilogue III: SoB or Sense of Belonging

"You can't borrow my homework, Specs," David said as he shut his locker door. "You're just going to copy it." He turned towards his friend before offering him a smile. "I can help you with it after school if you want though. It's not due until tomorrow morning for you, right?"

Specs nodded. "Yeah, third period." He sighed as he leaned against the lockers. "I don't even know why the hell we have to take chemistry in the first place. It's, like, math in science form. It's awful."

"I always thought physics was the math in science form," Jack replied, walking over to the two of them and swinging his arm over David's shoulders. "Which Chemistry you taking?"

"Chemistry A," Specs muttered, glancing at the ground before looked back at Jack. "It's basically Chemistry for absolute idiots, and I still can't get it."

"I'm pretty sure Skittery's taking that class, if you want to ask him for help," Jack said. "He acts like a moron, but he really knows his stuff. Racetrack's making him do homework, and he always gets Chemistry done first. Top marks, too."

Specs frowned at Jack. "That's great, but I can just have David help me."

"Except Davey and I have plans after school," Jack answered, pulling David closer to him. "He must have forgotten when he offered to tutor you." He gave a shrug. "Pretty sure the only thing this guy can remember is homework."

David craned his neck so he could look at Jack. "Jack, I don't mind helping Specs with his homework," he said slowly. He shot a look to Specs before focusing back in on Jack. "I mean, we're friends again. It's not like he's bullying me into something. You don't have to …"

Jack drew back as he rose an eyebrow at David. "I'm not lying about plans to try to help you get out of hanging with Specs," he said before crossing his arms. "Did you really forget our plans?"

"Look, if you two have a date or whatever," Specs started with a smile, holding up his hands to his chest as he took a step back. "You can just say it. I know my record isn't flawless when it comes to that sort of thing, but-"

"It's not a date," Jack quickly replied. He sighed before turning to David and continuing. "You remember when you promised that if I got a team together you'd play basketball with me?" he asked with raised eyebrows. He waited for David's nod before continuing. "Well, I found a team, and we're all meeting after school. See? Plans."

"Those aren't plans, Jack!" David argued as he turned towards him "You can't make plans without some kind of date attached to them."

Jack frowned. "But I already told the guys you'd be there. Everyone's really excited."

Specs rolled his eyes as he glanced between the boys. "I'll be fine, Dave," he said with a smile. "I'll just ask Skittery. It's no big deal."

David sighed as he glanced at Specs.. "Yeah, fine then," he said, turning back to Jack. "Guess I'll see you after school."

"Great!" Jack exclaimed with a smile. "See you at the court!" he said before taking off down the hall.

Specs stared at his friend for a few seconds before raising his eyebrow. "You sure you two aren't dating? Because Jack sure seems to act like it."

David reached into his locker to pull out the book he needed for his next period. "You, of all people, don't have any right to judge what Jack and I are doing."

Specs smile widened. "That was definitely not a denial," he pointed out as he walked him to class.

"For the five hundredth time, Jack, I can't play basketball today!" Swifty exclaimed, slamming his locker door as he turned to face his best friend with a glare. "I already told you, 'I have plans with Sarah today.' Remember that? Remember when I told you this two seconds ago ?"

"So just tell her that you're free tomorrow," Jack suggested, leaning against the lockers as he tried his best to pout.

"Tomorrow won't be our two week anniversary," Swifty replied, undeterred. "Jesus, and you're supposed to be my best friend. You trying to get my girl to dump me or something?"

"Of course not, but this is really important," Jack said, quickly following behind Swifty as he left for his next class. "Also, holy shit, who even celebrates a two week anniversary ?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Sarah says they're special." A lopsided grin appeared on Swifty's face as he turned towards Jack. "Like, has used the work 'special' in describing this day multiple times. Think we're taking our making out to the next step."

"Yeah, so, on to my problem," Jack declared, grabbing Swifty's arm and stopping his brisk pace. "I really need you to do this for me."

Swifty raised an eyebrow at him. "You need me to cancel my anniversary date to, instead, go play basketball with you? Were you even listening to a word I just said?" he asked. He rolled his eyes at Jack's shrug. "Fucking no, Jack. Are you a fucking idiot? That's how people lose girls."

"Yeah, but, I kind of …" Jack shrugged as he trailed off. "I kind of promised Davey that we could play basketball after school today, and I kind of need a team for that, you know?"

Swifty squinted at him. "Sooo … I should give up my anniversary date so I can play basketball with my girlfriend's little brother? The anniversary date that I'm pretty sure is going to end with at least some mutually beneficial oral sex at least , if not first-time sex?"

"It's been two weeks and you still haven't plowed her?" Skittery asked from behind Swifty. "Never figured you for a prude."

Swifty whirled around to glare at him. "No, I haven't. Because Sarah isn't some cheap hussy."

Skittery rose an eyebrow. "'Cheap hussy'? What are you? Eighty?"

" Guys , can we stay on point, please ?" Jack interrupted, shooting both boys a frown.

"Your point's been overdone," Skittery replied, rolling his eyes. "'Guys, help me hang out with David!'" Skittery mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "'Guys, I hung out with David yesterday and it was so completely magical!' 'Guys, I masturbated today while I stalked around on David's Facebook profile! So much better than porn, you guys!' 'Guys, David just-' Oof!"

Jack glowered at Skittery as he recovered from Jack's punch to his stomach. "I don't sound like that," he declared. "And if you don't keep it the fuck down I'm slamming you into a locker next."

"As if you could, nancy boy," Skittery wheezed, holding his stomach as he tried to get the breath back in his lungs.

"He does have a point, Jack," Swifty said with a shrug. "You're always jumping on David's dick. I realize you guys used to be best friends, but it's kind of …" He shrugged again as he trailed off.

"It's kind of creepy, is what it is," Skittery finished, making sure to dodge the punch that Jack aimed at his head.

"Shut the fuck up," Jack growled, "The both of you." He made sure to glare at them both as they stood in the middle of the hallway. He forced calm into his voice as he explained himself. "I promised him is all. I don't break promises. Especially not to friends."

" Whipped ," Skittery coughed into his hand, Swifty nodding along with him.

"Oh, fuck off!" Jack exclaimed, going right back to glaring. "As if you two assholes are any different!" He turned to glare at Swifty. "How many plans have you cancelled with me because Sarah was having a bad day at school or whatever the fuck?" He didn't wait for an answer as he turned to glare at Skittery. "And don't think I don't know about all the times you fucking left in the middle of the night to bring a high ass Itey a god damn sandwich or chocolate or whatever else he fucking asks for at two in the fucking morning."

Swifty and Skittery shared a look before turning their attention back to Jack. "Yeah," Swifty agreed, slowly nodding his head, "we do those things. … because we're dating them."

"There are certain benefits to being a good boyfriend, you see," Skittery explained. "I get sex. Swifty gets …" He turned to raise an eyebrow at Swifty before shrugging. "Well, he gets whatever it is he gets."

"I get the pleasure of knowing the woman I love is happy," Swifty explained, giving Skittery a displeased frown. "It's not all about sex, you know."

"Only people who aren't getting sex say that sex isn't everything," Skittery argued.

Swifty glared at Skittery. "The point is ," he said as he turned back to Jack, "you're comparing David to our significant others, even though you insist he's just a friend. You don't think that's a little weird?"

Jack glared at them both. "I think you should both fuck off," he muttered before stalking off, determined to find some real friends that would be down to play some after school basketball.

"Jack, there's no one here," David pointed out as he looked around the empty school basketball court.

Jack looked around. "Yeah, well, I thought about it, and figured you'd rather get some fundamentals down before we played on teams. You know, get some one-on-one practice in."

David crossed his arms as he frowned at his friend. "One-on-one practice?" He cocked an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.

Jack finally shrugged. "Yeah."

"Like the one-on-one game you wanted me to play, which I turned down, which is the reason you told me you'd get a team together?"

Jack blinked at him. "No. That was a game. This is practice," he explained before tossing the basketball he had been holding at David.

David uncrossed his arms and barely caught it before throwing it back. "I don't need practice, Jack."

"Prove it," Jack replied, tossing back the ball.

David caught it with a glare. "Prove I can play basketball instead of helping my friend with his homework? No thanks." He tossed the ball back to Jack.

"It'll be fun," Jack said, lobbing the ball back to David before he registered that David had turned around to walk around.

The basketball hit David squarely in the back of the head. He turned back around to Jack, a deep scowl on his face. "No means no, Jack," he snapped before turning back around and heading off the court. "I need to go find Specs," he muttered.

Spot made sure to hold in his laughter until David was a good distance away. "Smooth, Jackie-Boy," he said with a smirk.

Jack jumped a little, the presence unexpected, before turning to glare at his boss. "As if you're any better," he snapped.

Spot laced his hands behind his head, still smirking at Jack. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not the one continually mooning over a potential fuck buddy."

"I'm not- David's not a-" Jack clenched his teeth before turning away. "Don't act like you're so cool when everybody knows you bend over backwards for Race."

"Only during sex," Spot returned, still smirking.

Jack blinked at him before he made the connection. "Oh, Jesus, Spot, that's fucking gross!" he exclaimed before turning away. "I do not want to hear about whatever depraved shit you and Racetrack get up to behind closed doors!"

"Who said we close the door?" Spot asked as he followed behind Jack.

"Jesus fuck. Stop talking. Right now."

"So now I'm roped into doing this thing I was never told anything about, because Dutchy has those puppy-dog-eye-things for fucking days , and once that doofus has his head wrapped around something it's pretty impossible to talk him out of it, and I definitely don't want to explain to him that I can't go, because then I'll have to deal with the water works that'll be sure to come, but that's the only time my regular tutor can meet with me, and-"

"I get it, Specs," David interrupted, still waiting patiently outside his friend's front door. "I told you I don't have a problem helping you." He glanced past Specs' shoulder to look into the house. "But, you know, maybe you could let me inside, so we can get started?"

Specs' eyes widened as he realized he'd been rambling. "Right, yeah, of course," he said, shaking his head a bit as he moved away to let David inside. "Weren't you supposed to be playing basketball or some other gay shit after school?" he asked as he shut the door and followed David into the kitchen. "I thought Jack said you guys were busy today."

David frowned, both at the 'gay' comment and at the 'Jack' comment. "The only plans I had with Jack was watching him run around being an ass. The guy is convinced I don't know how to play basketball just because I get good grades. He refuses to believe any different," He dropped his bag at the kitchen table before turning to face Specs. "He won't even let me play with him and his friends because he's certain I'm going to embarrass him. Keeps insisting I need to practice first." He slammed himself down at the table before angrily going through his bag for his chemistry book.

Specs sat down at the table next to him, his eyes wide. "Gee, Davey, you sure that isn't just a ploy to spend some one-on-one time with you?"

David stopped going through his bag to glance up at Specs, squinting at his friend. "What would be the point of that?"

Specs blinked at him before laughing. "Jesus, and people say I'm oblivious," he exclaimed. "It's obvious Jack likes you, David. Like, head over heals for you. He's more of a puppy dog to you than Dutchy is to me, and that's saying something."

"So you're finally admitting that Dutchy likes you?" David asked, raising an eyebrow and deciding to ignore the rest.

Specs just shrugged at him. "Of course he likes me. Who wouldn't? I'm god damn adorable."

David rolled his eyes. "Ah, I see, it's the fact that you like him that's the hump you need to get over."

"You're getting off the subject," Specs replied, easily sidestepping the issue. "Jack wants to spend some time alone with you - probably trying to get into those too-tight pants of yours - and you keep blowing him off." Specs shook his head. "Poor, poor, Jack, to be in love with such an oblivious man."

David shot a quick look at his lap. "You think my pants are too tight?" he asked with wide eyes.

Specs hit himself on the forehead with an open palm. "Way to focus on the most inconsequential thing I said," he muttered.

"Way to ignore the fact that you have feelings for Dutchy," David shot back.

"Chemistry!" Specs exclaimed instead of answering, quickly plopping his chemistry book on the kitchen table and sliding in next to David. "So, orbitals, what's with those? P? D? How can I tell them apart? And who the hell decided to give them letters that make no sense whatsoever?"

David rolled his eyes. " You make no sense whatsoever," he muttered before leaning over the book. "S-orbitals are first. They have space for two electrons. P-orbitals have space for six. Then d-orbitals have space for ten, but the p-orbital on the next shell fills up before the d-orbital on the lower shell does. So, if you have an element like-"

"Oh my god!" Specs cried, clutching at his head and rocking back and forth. "How the hell are you talking about chemistry when I just told you that Jack likes you?" He grabbed his best friend's shoulders and gave him a light shake. "This isn't something you can just ignore! C'mon, Davey!"

David threw Specs hands off him as he leaned back in his chair. "I have no problem ignoring it, mostly because you have no idea what you're talking about, but, also, because I came here to help you with chemistry, not to gossip about who Jack may or may not like."

"Because you don't think it's you?" Specs asked, leaning forward in his chair. "It so is, by the way. Dutchy told me, who heard it from Skittery, that Jack talks about you all the time. Even Sean's started to make fun of him for it, and, you know, if it's so blatantly obvious that even Sean knows about it it's gotta be real blatantly obvious. Everyone knows he follows you around like the light shines out of your ass, and-"

"And he also went on a date with Jessica Weslon just last week," David interrupted, shooting Specs a glare before leaning back in towards the chemistry book they were sharing. "So, if you fill all the spots on the p-orbital in shell three, then you start to fill the s-orbital and the p-orbital in shell four, before you bring it back down to the d-orbital that's in shell three. So, if you take the element-"

"Davey, you are absolutely killing me here," Specs interrupted once again with a groan. "You're positively reeking with jealous, and yet you won't even give him the time of day. What the hell is wrong with you?"

David's glare only intensified. "I'm not reeking with anything," he snapped. "And you're delusional. And, also, how about you deal with whatever messed up situation you've got going on with Dutchy before you start trying to be my fucking matchmaker?"

"Whoa, Davey," Specs breathed out, his eyes wide. "Pent up sexual tension, much? Don't start cussing at me just because Jack upset you."

"Jack didn't- It's you that keeps-" David tried to reply before growling and pulling at his hair. "Do you want help with chemistry or not?"

Specs stared at his friend for a few seconds before shrugging. "Hey, if you think that blood pressure of yours can handle it, carry on, I guess."

David stared back before letting out a breath and turning his attention back to the chemistry book in front of them. "Okay, so , if you have an atom like, iron, let's say, and-"

"I guess I just don't understand why you're so up in arms about this Jack thing. I mean, why's it getting you so miffed? You should-"

David slammed his head on the table. "I liked you better when you were homophobic."

"Alright, I'm in," Spot said, leaning over Racetrack who was sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of a poker game. He threw a fifty dollar bill on the table without bothering to wait for a response.

"Closed game," Speed grunted from across the table, staring at his cards. "Jack already tried to buy back in. I'm done favoring the rich. Why the fuck's that kid got so much money anyway?"

"Don't understand why the hell you have such a problem with people who suck at poker continually giving more money to the pot," Racetrack grumbled as he played with his chips. "The more all you guys put in the more I can take," he said with a grin.

"Yeah, until someone's putting in towards the end when they didn't put in anything at the beginning!" Speed snapped, finally looking up from his cards to shoot Bumlets a glare.

Bumlets immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, that wasn't my intention. We were just running late," he explained, glancing quickly next to him at Bam before turning back to Speed.

"Yeah, running late," Skittery scoffed before tossing two red chips into the pile at the center of the table. He threw an arm around Itey. "Itey and I've done that kind of "running late" before, too, haven't we, honey?" he asked, grinning at Bumlets before turning to his boyfriend.

Itey just frowned at him before putting down the cards he had been looking at and leaning away. "You're trying to look at my hand, you bastard," he accused. "Stay on your side."

Skittery pouted at him, but didn't get a chance to reply before Spot interrupted.

"What the fuck are you idiots talking about? Why the fuck would I want to play some stupid fucking card game I already know Race is going to win?" he snapped, the scowl on his face losing its edge when he lightly tapped his shoulder against Racetrack's. "I was talking about that gay pool you idiots have on Jack and that mouthy kid," he explained. "Fifty says they're together by the end of this week."

Skittery rolled his eyes as he snatched the money from the table. "Sucker's bet," he declared. "You're in," he announced before shoving the money into his pocket. "Good luck, champ," he added with a smirk and a wink.

Spot frowned at him. "Don't fucking do that," he demanded, glaring at Skittery before squeezing Racetrack's shoulder. "You buying dinner tonight, then?" he asked, pointedly looking down at the pool of money on the table.

"Sure thing, doll face." Racetrack smirked up at him before tossing him a blue chip. "Here. How 'bout you go buy yourself something pretty?"

"Thanks, daddy," Spot said with a smirk before pocketing the chip and striding out of the room.

"Whatever the fuck sick game you guys are playing shouldn't be done around people," Skittery said with a frown. "It's disgusting."

"Says the guy that was talking about rimming last week," Bam muttered, leaning into Bumlets but making sure he was loud enough for the whole table to hear. "But, no, of course that wasn't disgusting."

" That was an expression of our love!" Skittery declared loudly, throwing his arm over Itey once more. He jerked a thumb over at Racetrack. "Their pukey-sarcastic pet name thing they've got going on, and those stupid sweet faces they keep pulling-"

"... Is called being a couple, Skitts," Itey interrupted, rolling his eyes.

Skittery leaned away from him before raising an eyebrow. "We don't do shit like that," he pointed out.

"I'm well aware," Itey muttered, keeping his focus on the cards in his hand.

"Do you want that?" Skittery asked, turning in his chair and taking both of Itey's hands in his. "Because I do love you," he said with sincerity. "Not like they told you love is, and I didn't know this either, but love doesn't make things nice. It ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. Snowflakes are perfect. Stars are perfect. Not us, Itey. Not fucking us. We're here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die. The storybooks are fucking bullshit."

Itey narrowed his eyes at him. "I don't know what fucking movie that's from, but it doesn't make any god damn sense, Skitts. You want to ruin me and break my heart?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because that's exactly what it sounds like you just said.

Skittery drew back to think about what he had said. Admittedly, he probably could have thought about that one a bit longer before he threw it out there like that. "Itey, we are of one mind. We are of one heart. You complete me. You fill the missing gap in my life I never knew I was missing, but would be crippled if I lost. You-"

Itey rolled his eyes as he pulled his hands out of Skittery's. "Don't make me fucking puke, Skitts. Keep that sentimental crap to yourself."

Skitter smirked at his boyfriend, about to say something before Racetrack interrupted him.

"You guys know Spot's absolutely winning that bet, right?" Race asked before throwing a handful of chips in front of him. He jerked his head towards them. "Also, I'm planning on throwing this much into the pot, so whoever we're waiting on should either match or just fold now."

"Alright, one, you're incorrigible," Bumlets grumbled, throwing his cards at the pot. "Also, how the hell do you think Spot's going to win? Jack and David are still tiptoeing around each other like Bambis. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't so sad."

"How the hell do you think Spot's going to place a bet and not cheat?" Racetrack shot back.

"Oh, believe me, I'm counting on that one," Bam said, throwing a stack of chips towards the pot. "Spot'll cheat, make it worse, and end up ensuring his loss. That guy doesn't know the first thing about romance."

"He's more romantic than you'd think," Racetrack claimed before looking up to raised eyebrows around the table. He raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't say he was ," he grumbled, "just that it's more than you would think."

Speed rolled his eyes before throwing a ten-dollar bill on the table. "Ten bucks says Spot tries to cheat and makes it worse."

Racetrack smirked at him. "Alright, fine. Anybody else want in? I'll match everyone in Spot's favor. Come on, ante up. I need enough money to take my baby to Red Lobster," he said, his smirk widening as he looked around the table and everyone began to pull out their wallets.

Jack was flipping through a magazine in his, for once, relatively empty room. That was still the god damn basement, despite the fact that Skittery, who had gotten here after him, already had a room upstairs. And Racetrack, who had gotten here way after him, and Bumlets, who wasn't even in the gang, got two of the best beds in the whole hotel. Granted, they were sharing them with people, but, still, it wasn't fair in even the loosest sense of the word.

"That magazine pissing you off or are you just constipated?" Spot asked, causing Jack to jump at least half a foot into the air.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he exclaimed, shutting his magazine and turning to glare at where the other man was standing in the doorway. "You trying to take a page out of Stealth's book? Wear a fucking bell," he snapped.

Spot just crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

Jack rose an eyebrow at him, but, eventually, he was the one to break first. "Shit, you really are trying to be like Stealth, aren't you? What the fuck do you want, Spot? Can't you see I'm finally enjoying some peace and quiet?"

Spot pointedly looked at the five other boys scattered throughout the beds laid across the basement. He rose his own eyebrow at Jack, but still didn't open his mouth.

"God damn it, this is the most private it gets down here, okay?" Jack snapped, answering him despite the fact that Spot had yet to say anything. "So will you leave me alone?" he asked before picking up the magazine he had dropped on the bed and paging through it once more. "Thank you," he muttered after several minutes of silence.

Spot waited a few minutes more before finally saying something. "Let's go do something," he demanded, causing Jack, who had assumed he'd already left, to jump and drop his magazine for a second time.

"God damn it, Spot!" Jack shouted, glaring at the other man. "I just wanted some fucking peace and quiet, okay? Can I have that? Please? Just some fucking time to myself?"

"That doesn't sound very entertaining from my perspective," Spot replied before walking over to Jack's bed and picking up the corner of the magazine with just the tips of his two fingers. He looked at the picture on the cover of a guy clad only in speedos. "What the fuck are you even reading?" he asked with a frown. "Fucking porn?"

"It's Sports Illustrated," Jack scowled as he yanked the magazine from Spot and shoved it under his pillow.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the swimsuit edition. Otherwise known as porn for kids."

" One , I'm not a fucking kid, in case you haven't noticed. Two , that guy is a legitimate swimmer! He was in the last Olympics for fuck's sake!"

"And if you were browsing a G-rated porno mag it'd feature that guy on the cover," Spot replied with a smirk.

Jack frowned at him before sputtering and glaring. "I'm not gay, Spot!" he cried out. "Jesus, are you for real right now? I went on a date with Jessica Welson just last week!"

"I noticed that," Spot said, turning away from Jack's bed and starting to head up the stairs. "I also noticed you came home before ten o'clock."

Jack dutifully followed after him. "Yeah, because you refused to let me borrow a car to take out, and her parents made her keep her bedroom door open, not because I'm fucking gay."

Spot shrugged his shoulders, not bothering to look behind him as he led Jack through their lobby. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Jackie-Boy. I don't really give a fuck either way, to be honest."

"Then why the fuck are you bringing it up?"

"Because I walked in on you reading a porno mag," Spot explained, shrugging his shoulders once again. "Excuse me for pointing out the obvious when it's right in front of my fucking face."

"It was a fucking issue of Sport's Illustrated!" Jack snapped back as he glared at the back of Spot's head. "And I don't fucking understand why the fuck you're so fixated on that. Who the fuck do you care who I'm jerking off to?"

"I don't care who to," Spot answered as they got outside. "But I sure as shit care that you are. You think I want a bunch of guys running around my house with all this fucking pent up aggression because they don't have the balls to stick it in who they want?"

"Exactly what the fuck are you trying to get at here?" Jack asked, suddenly faltering in his walking. "If you really cared about me getting it in you would've loaned me a car when I asked you for one. And where the fuck are you taking me? What's your endgame here?" He finally stopped following Spot, instead crossing his arms and waiting for an answer.

Spot waited until he reached the end of the block to turn around. "You follow me this far and now you're worried about my endgame?" He rolled his eyes. "Jesus, you're an idiot."

"It's not like I don't know where we are, you ass," Jack snapped. "We aren't even half a mile away. And I didn't realize that trusting you was grounds for being an idiot."

"Yeah, that's one of the reasons you're an idiot," Spot replied before sighing. "I'm just trying to make a couple bucks on the side," he admitted before shrugging. "Thought we'd play that basketball game you were so gung-ho about earlier."

"Oh, yeah? And exactly what do I get out of that?" Jack asked with a frown.

Spot shrugged at him. "Give you half if we win," he offered flippantly.

"I'm in," Jack said without even thinking it over. It was easy money as far as he was concerned.

"That's what I thought," Spot answered before turning back around and continuing down the street. "C'mon then. We just gotta pick up the last player."

Specs slammed his head onto David's kitchen table. "I really don't understand all this shit," he muttered, pushing the chemistry book towards his friend. "I think that thing should be burned or something. How the fuck am I supposed to make sense of it?"

David rolled his eyes as he smoothed out the pages of the book. "You're supposed to be listening to me when I explain things to you," he explained patiently. "Remember the last time we had this talk? About how tutoring works?"

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you?" Specs asked, his head still pressed down onto the table.

David smirked at his head. "A bit." He jumped slightly when his doorbell went off and he looked down at Specs with a frown on his face. "You didn't invite anyone over, did you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

That made Specs finally tilt his head up, raising an eyebrow at his best friend. "For real, Davey? Why would I do something like that? It's yourhouse."

David shrugged as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I didn't invite anyone over, and Sarah told me she was going to be out with Swifty all day, and my parents are at a seminar until Sunday night, and-"

"... And, obviously, none of your friends would ever come over on a whim," Specs finished for him with a smirk. "Seriously, Davey, I feel like you think you're some social leper or something," he chastised as he went to open the door. "You do have friends, you know. Like, a lot. For real. Have you counted them before?"

"Who?"

Specs rolled his eyes. "Jesus, you never listen to me," he grumbled. "Have you ever sat down and actually counted out how many friends we have now? Dutchy, Blink, Mush, Racetrack, Bumlets, Bam, Itey, Skittery, Swifty." He opened the door as he continued naming people off. "Swifty, Me, Jack, Spot." He jerked his head in Jack's and Spot's direction when it turned out to be them on the other side of the door.

"You guys talking about us?" Jack asked as he stepped into the house. "Good things, I hope." He ignored everyone for the few seconds it took to smile at David.

Specs shrugged at Jack's back. "I was just talking about how we're all friends now."

"I don't know why the fuck you would think I'm friends with any of you fucking idiots," Spot replied, following behind Jack. "What the fuck kind of impression do I exude that would make you think that?" he asked Specs, making sure to glare when he walked past him. "Take me off that fucking list. Now."

Specs squinted at him. "You realize that an actual list doesn't really exist, right?" he asked. "I was just trying to explain to David that he's more popular than he thinks he is."

"What the fuck's the point in lying to the kid?" Spot asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack didn't hesitate to smack him in the back of the head. "Don't be an ass," he demanded with no heat before turning to David. "So, Spot's got a pretty good team ready to play some basketball over by our place. We just need two more players," he said with a smile.

"He's lying," Spot said, glaring at Specs. "We only need one person."

"Don't pay any attention to him." Jack elbowed Spot in the stomach, giving him a short glare when they made eye contact. "We'll make room," he offered, glancing over at Specs before giving David his full attention. "What do you say?" he asked with a smile.

David gave a soft smile back. "It sounds really fun, Jack, but I've really gotta stay here and help Specs-"

"Specs won't be here because he'll be busy playing basketball," Spot answered, shooting Specs a glare as soon as he opened his mouth to reply. Spot leaned into him and muttered a threat, making sure the others wouldn't be able to hear it. "Either that or your brains will be too busy sunbathing on the fucking sidewalk to get any studying done."

"It does sound real fun, Davey," Specs immediately said, sending Spot a worried glance before forcing out a smile to David. "And all this studying is really giving me a headache."

"We haven't even been studying for an hour, Specs!" David exclaimed. "You were just telling me that you've got a test on Monday you don't think you're going to pass. I don't think now's the time to be playing basketball!"

"Or maybe a clear head's exactly what he needs," Jack replied, still smiling. "Plus, Skittery'll be over there. Maybe he can help you help Specs. I told you, Skittery really knows his chemistry." Jack rolled his eyes. "Says it's because he practices with Itey all the time."

"And we've got all day Sunday to study," Specs added when Spot wouldn't stop glaring at him. "That's plenty of time."

David sighed before running a hand through his hair. "It's really not," he argued with a sigh, "but I'm not your mom. If you wanna play basketball instead of studying then I guess we'll play basketball."

"Teams picked?" Spot asked, walking down a line of five people on his right and four people on his left.

"No, teams are not fucking picked," Skittery snapped, looking down the line at the four other players. "You basically shoved everyone into fucking groups! We didn't even get to fucking pick anyone!" He pointed down to the last person in the line. "I certainly don't want that fucking douchebag on my team! He doesn't even know how to fucking play! He'll probably go running off searching for flowers or some shit before the first quarter even ends!" He glared down at Dutchy who was staring up at the sky with a blissed out smile on his face. "Who's the fucking captain that picked this shit out?"

"I'm the fucking captain that picked this shit out," Racetrack snapped from right next to Skittery. "You got a fucking problem with that?" He immediately squared up to his friend and glared down at him, despite the fact that Skittery was half an inch taller.

"Simmer down now, el capitan," Skittery breathed out, eyebrows raised and hands up in surrender. "Jesus, who shit in your cereal this morning?"

Bam stared at Spot from his place on the other side of Racetrack. He looked down his line and then looked across the way at the other line up. He didn't miss the fact that there was a space for Spot right across from Racetrack. Or that Bumlets was right across from him. Or that David was across from Jack. He looked back at Spot, his eyes narrowed. "Exactly what is it you're planning on doing here?"

Spot turned from where he had been going down the line and smirked at him. He rose a single eyebrow. "Why, I'm planning on playing basketball. What else would I be doing?" He put a hand on his chest. "We're shirts. You guys," he said, looking down the row Bam was standing in, "will be skins." His smirk widened. "First team to forty-two wins and none of that pussy-ass calling fouls shit."

"No fouls?" David asked, his eyes wide as he looked across from him at Jack, Spot, Itey, Bumlets, and Specs. They were all heavy hitters, as far as he was concerned. "But someone could get hurt!"

"And what the hell kind of a number is forty-two?" Itey asked from his spot across from Skittery.

Racetrack pulled off his shirt and shrugged. "It's an arbitrary number," he explained. "Spot and I agreed on it when we were picking out teams."

Bumlets shared a look with a now-shirtless Bam, only momentarily distracted by his bare chest. "Why do I get the feeling this is some kind of setup?"

Bam blew him a kiss. "Oh, it definitely is, buttercup, but whatever kind of setup this is has nothing to do with me. I'm along for the ride same as you."

"Hey, don't look at me," Skittery said when Itey began to glare at him. "I didn't set this up." He sent a pointed look down the lines at Jack and David who were quietly talking to each other, oblivious to everything else. "But I think we can all guess what this is about."

Bumlets raised an eyebrow at him. "You think Spot's trying to get Jack and David together by making them play a fucking basketball game?"

"Not trying to," Spot corrected as he stood in the place he had saved for himself next to Bumlets and Itey and across from Racetrack. "Am going to." He smirked at Skittery. "There's a strong difference there."

Skittery rolled his eyes. "You think if you make David play basketball without his shirt on Jack's just going to, what? Pounce on him and declare his undying love? Sounds like something Dutchy would come up with."

"Yeah, because that'd be dumb as fuck," Spot replied. "No, that's not the fucking plan, you halfwit. The only reason you're skins is so that I can enjoy the view." He sent a smirk Racetrack's way before going back to glaring at Skittery. "My plan's a lot more intricate than that bullshit," he promised.

Jack shoved at Spot, hard, and Spot would have been pounding his head into the concrete if Racetrack wasn't there to stop him.

"Relax, Spot," Racetrack muttered, putting a hand on his chest as he lightly held Spot against going after the other boy. "You're the one who wanted to do it this way, remember?"

Spot gritted his teeth, but he took the moment to lean into Racetrack's bare chest instead of going after Jack and ripping out his femur just so he could beat him with it."

"He's on our fucking team!" Itey reminded Jack loudly, shoving at him on behalf of Spot. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!"

Jack whirled on the other boy, snarling. "He was going after Davey!"

"Yeah," Bumlets broke in, angrily striding over to Jack, "because he had the fucking ball. And he's on the other fucking team. Do you not get how this game works?"

"I don't need your protection anyway!" David yelled from a little ways down the court before chucking the ball at Jack's head.

"It was our ball, Davey," Skittery reminded him quietly, shaking his head.

David was more than happy to ignore him. "Stop treating me like I'm four! I know how to play basketball, and I have gotten fouled before."

"If you knew how to play you wouldn't have just given the other team the ball," Skittery muttered with a frown.

"Please tell me this wasn't your fucking plan," Bam said quietly, leaning in towards where Spot and Racetrack stood away from the rest of the players. "Get them so mad at each other they start humping?"

Spot narrowed his eyes. "That's-" he started before frowning. "It worked out better in my head."

"Spot!" Racetrack immediately chastised, taking a step back and wearing his own frown. "You said your plan was to make them play basketball together so they could talk! Not so they could fight!"

"This way was funnier!" Spot shouted back with no remorse.

"Jesus, Spot," Racetrack replied, rubbing his forehead with closed eyes. "Okay, okay," he said after several seconds of listening to Jack and David bicker back and forth. "We've gotta explain this to them. I'm going to go fix this," he decided before walking off without waiting for an answer.

Bam turned to his boss, eyes narrowed. "Was that your fucking plan?" he asked, jerking his head at Racetrack's retreating back. "To force Race to go over and patch things up?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spot shrugged. "Racetrack does sappy shit a lot better than I do."

Bam shook his head. "You're psychopathic in your brilliance."

"I'm sorry," Racetrack said immediately after he got done explaining the reason why they were all here. "It was all in fun, but I guess things got out of hand. And I'm sorry for the part I played in it. I should have known right away it was a dumb idea, playing people like that, but Spot is really convincing when he's-" He cut himself off to look at an already-red-faced David and a scowling Jack. He cleared his throat. "Right, well, what he was doing doesn't really matter. The point is that it was wrong of us to interfere like we did. And I'm sorry."

"Right, no, I mean, I get it," Jack stumbled, still not looking at either of them. "I mean, it was a good joke, right, Davey?"

David jerked up as if he had been shocked, his face still red even as he began to scowl. "Yeah, it was real hilarious," he snapped. He whirled around and started walking off the court. "I think I'd like to go home now, Specs," he muttered as he headed to his car.

Specs blinked a few times before things seemed to click. He gave a slight bounce before following after him. He smirked at Jack as he brushed by before hurrying to meet David at his car.

Dutchy sighed after him. He waited to speak until both the car doors had shut. "That, ladies and gentlemen, is a grade A hunk of man meat."

"What the fuck are you even talking about? Itey's the only grade A hunk of man meat here, you sad, blind freak," Skittery snapped.

"Jesus, Skittery, what the fuck?" Itey snapped. "There are two grade A hunks of man meat here, and maybe if there was a mirror nearby you would see that."

Skittery smirked at him. "You're just saying that to get in my pants."

"You're damn fucking right, I am," Itey admitted.

"I, for one, am glad it ended early," Bam said over Skittery's and Itey's flirting. He shot a smirk over to Bumlets. "More time for fun stuff, right?"

"No!" Bumlets snapped. "That was one of my best friends! You think I'm just going to let him go home without checking up on him after Jack was a complete dick to him? What the fuck?" He glared at him before heading off in the direction of the nearest subway.

"I was not a dick to him!" Jack shouted at his back.

"Oh, you were," Dutchy argued with a smile. "The fact that you don't know that you were being a dick to him just makes you more of a dick."

"Shut up, Dutchy, you sad, blind freak," Jack muttered as he crossed his arms.

Spot strolled over to where Racetrack was still standing next to Jack. He put his arm around him as he looked around the basketball court as almost everyone yelled at each other. "You caused all this, you know."

Racetrack turned to glare at him. "Shut the fuck up, Spot."

"Shut up, Specs," David ground out as he gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles go white.

"I did not say a single thing," Specs slowly replied, not bothering to hide his smirk. "... This time ," he finished, his smirk widening. "But I've totally been telling you that you and Jack were acting like a couple. Didn't I? Man, if Spot's noticing it so much he wants to play matchmaker you guys are, like, way more obvious than I thought."

"You sound like a teenage girl right now, you know that?" David snapped, not bothering to take his eyes off the road. "And Jack isn't interested. You heard him. It's a joke, right? A real hilarious one, too, according to him."

Specs rolled his eyes. "Please, he's just covering up. The dude's totally obsessing over you. His eyes follow you across the room. He almost took off Spot's head because he fouled you a couple times."

"Yeah, and he's also a closet case," David snapped. "I'm not interested, Specs, so just drop it, okay?"

Specs blinked at his friend before his face scrunched in confusion. "Soo … you do like Jack, and you know Jack likes you, but you won't go out with him because he won't admit he likes you?"

"Yes," David replied, still glaring. "How is that a hard subject to grasp? Why would I want to date someone that doesn't even want to admit that he likes me? You think that's something that would be good for my self esteem? You think it's something I would enjoy doing?"

Specs' frown just deepened. "Do all of you feel that way?" he asked, biting his lip. "I mean," he asked quietly, "do you think Dutchy feels the same way?"

"'All of us' meaning 'us gays'?" David asked with raised eyebrows. "Well, we're not some hive-mind, Specs. Jesus. We all don't think the same. How many times do I have to tell you that?" He sighed before answering the question. "But, yes, I'd say that Dutchy's pretty tired of you refusing to admit he's more than a friend when he so clearly is."

"Huh," Specs replied, leaning back in his chair with a small frown. "He seems happy enough, though."

"Then don't change anything," David snapped as he immediately went back to glaring. "Maybe Dutchy likes pseudo dating a closet case. He'll probably stay with you forever, because who wouldn't, right? Man, Dutchy sure is lucky he gets to make out with you sometimes when no one's looking."

"Well, someone's practicing their sarcasm today," Specs huffed as he crossed his arms. "Maybe Jack isn't a closet case. Maybe he just doesn't want to date someone who lashes out at people for no reason."

'Or,' Specs thought as David sat fuming at the road, 'maybe, being new to this whole gay thing, Jack didn't know that being a closet case would inhibit his chances with David.' Specs sure didn't know before David had told him. It was only right for Specs to let him know straight-only-kinda-gay guy to straight-only-kinda-gay guy.

"Are you fucking done?" Spot asked as Racetrack continued to yell at him as Skittery and Itey nodded their heads along. "Do you not remember that you were the ones who agreed to this bet in the first place?

They were all huddled in the kitchen, away from the other gang members as they whined about whether or not the bet had gone too far. Because they had become a group of pussies overnight.

"Can we talk about how my privacy was completely violated by said bet?" Jack snapped. "I don't care who started it. I want a guarantee that this shit isn't going to happen again."

"Jesus, you're a pussy," Spot replied, rolling his eyes. "Is that a manhattan thing or what?" He turned towards Bam. "What the fuck is wrong with these idiots?"

Bam put his hands up in surrender, pointedly glancing at Bumlets who stood beside him. "Oh, you aren't putting me in the middle of this one. I'm in enough trouble already thanks to you." He crossed his arms as he glared at the floor. "... Even though I didn't have nothing to do with it," he muttered.

"You didn't have anything to do with it," Bumlets corrected quietly.

"See?" Bam perked up with a smirk, jerking his thumb in Bumlets' direction. "He agrees with me!"

"Jesus," Spot muttered, gritting his teeth before running a hand through his hair. He gripped the chair in front of him and he let out an angry breath. "I'm trying to stay fucking calm here. I really fucking am, but you guys are so fucking annoying ," he said, picking up the wooden chair he had been gripping and hurling it at the wall. "I don't give a fuck whether your friend or lover or whatever the fuck he is is mad at you," he growled at Jack. "If you'd just man the fuck up and tell him about your pussy ass feelings maybe you wouldn't be here whining about it."

"Right, just like you did with Racetrack, right?" Jack snapped back. "Not like you ever mooned about the guy to Sling-"

Spot was across the room and had Jack backed against the wall with a hand on his throat before anyone could blink. "You don't mention that name in my fucking house. Never . You understand?" he growled in a low voice. He stepped back and released him before whirling around and storming out.

The occupants of the room stood blinking at each other until something crashed from the floor above them, causing everyone to flinch.

"Should we be concerned that he's going to break the hotel?" Itey asked, looking at Skittery.

Skittery shook his head before shrugging. "I've never seen him that angry before," he admitted before looking at Racetrack.

"Don't look at me," Race replied with wide eyes, his hands up in surrender. "The last time I saw him this angry was while I was kidnapped, and, you know, I was a little too busy being kidnapped to do anything about that one."

"It's no big deal," Bam assured the group. "He gets like this sometimes. Slingshot'll-" His face fell as he realized his mistake. "Oh." He blinked before looking at Racetrack. "Well, you're supposed to be his replacement, right? Guess that means this job falls on you."

Racetrack's eyes widened. "Wh-what the hell am I supposed to do about it?"

"I don't know. Sex stuff?" Bam asked with a shrug. "You think I know what Slingshot did to calm his ass down? Didn't realize I'd ever need notes on that shit."

Racetrack glanced at the door before something else shattered above them. He turned to look back at Bam, his eyes still wide. "I'm not putting my dick anywhere around that right now."

"He'll take care of it," Stealth said from behind Racetrack, causing everyone in the room to jump once more.

Skittery was the only one who seemed happy to see him. "Quiet kid! How ya been?" he asked with a smile as he strode over. "Who's taking care of what now?"

Stealth frowned at Skittery's unchanging smile for several seconds before replying. "King will take care of it," he explained before looking at Racetrack and just staring.

Racetrack looked around the room before pointing at himself. "Do … do you mean me?" he asked, squinting as he leaned towards Stealth. "Am I king?"

Bam burst out laughing before Stealth could answer. "Spot's king," he explained between laughs. "Always and forever. Stealth's telling us not to worry about it, right, you creepy son of a bitch?"

Stealth just frowned at him.

Spot was, admittedly, overly angry. He could understand that, but that didn't mean he could change it. What he could do, he thought as he kicked over his second bookshelf and had started to throw his third chair, was get out of his house before he destroyed the fuck out of everything.

So, he had taken to the streets, hoping that someone would be stupid enough to jump him so he could let off some steam. So far, no good.

He tried to be contemplative, but it seemed he was too wound up for it. Too fucking angry. Slingshot was really the only one that could get through to him when he was like this, and that thought did nothing but make him angrier.

He swung on the brick wall next to him, wincing as his knuckles immediately started bleeding. Still, senseless violence always helped clear his head, so he kept doing it. He'd walk a block or two and then take a swing, or hurl a trash can across the road, or kick a lamp post.

It wasn't until he punched a brick wall and felt a pain go right to his elbow that he took a break and started assessing his surrounds. That was when he realized that he had walked himself right to fucking Manhattan and had probably punched his way into a broken fucking finger to boot. And he was still fucking angry.

He forced himself to breath out and focus. He wanted fucking Slingshot because he could fix how mad he was, but that just made him angrier, which made him want Slingshot more, which made him angrier. And Spot couldn't do anything but positively fume as his head went round and round.

He needed someone or something to focus all his anger on. Someone he could beat up. Or someone who could beat him up.

He snorted at that thought, despite how angry he still was. No one had been able to beat him up in almost five years, and it was unlikely that he'd find them on tonight of all nights and in Manhattan of all places.

Still, he needed someone to beat up, which could explain why he was on this particular porch knocking on this particular door. And as soon as it opened he punched the person on the other end, despite the fact that it wasn't the person he had assumed it would be.

"What the fuck?" Specs exclaimed, suddenly on the floor and holding a bloody nose. "What the hell? Davey! Call the cops or some shit! What the fuck?"

"Whoops," Spot muttered with a frown. He glanced down at Specs as he let himself in, walking over the other boy. "David!" he yelled up the stairs. "Get the fuck out here!" he demanded.

"Sean, is that you?" David asked, coming from the dining room and pausing mid step as he saw Specs on the floor and Spot covered in blood. His eyes were wide as he dashed over. "Oh my goodness! Wh-what happened? Did you get into a fight?" he asked, immediately grabbing Spot''s hand and inspecting his fingers.

Spot hissed in pain as David came across the finger he had broken and the dork cooed in relpy. Fucking cooed. At Spot. At the fucking king of Brooklyn. He snatched his hand away and slapped the other man on the back of the head. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

David blinked at him, as if he had no idea how fucking awful he was being. "You … you're hurt. I was just making sure-"

"Making sure of what ?" Spot interrupted. "I'm fine . I'm not some little pussy," he explained as he started to pace the room. "I don't need a fucking mom or whatever it is you're trying to fucking do here. And I don't need you coming around being a fucking distraction either."

"Distraction?" David asked, taking a step back with wide eyes. "Sean, I appreciate-I mean, I can understand that sometimes feelings-"

Spot slapped him in the back of the head again. "Not a distraction to me , you fucking idiot. A distraction to Jack . Jesus fuck, why the hell would I like you ? You're so fucking soft I can't even bring myself to punch you, even though that was what I was thinking about fucking doing the entire time I was coming over here." He started pacing again. "I don't even know what the fuck he sees in you. You're a god damn pussy. And you're fucking uppity. And you whine all the god damn time."

David frowned at him, but didn't argue as he grabbed a hold of Spot's hand again. "I think you broke your hand," he said in reply. "It's pretty swollen. We need to get some ice on it."

" We don't need to do anything," Spot snapped, ripping his hand away once more. " You need to either leave Brooklyn the fuck alone or stop playing hard to get." He winced as he tried to move his hand. "Jesus fuck, I don't know when the fuck I started leading around a bunch of pussies. Or when everyone in my gang started flying the fucking rainbow flag. Jesus."

David glanced down at Spot's hand and then at where Specs stood, holding his still bleeding nose. His frown deepened. "Well, I should at least take care of one of you," he mumbled as he left the room.

"Hey, lay off Davey, alright?" Specs asked, his voice coming out stuffy due to all the blood.

Spot rose the corner of his lip in disgust. "I don't even know who the fuck you are."

Specs blinked at him, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally snapping it shut. "You're an awful person, and, one day, Racetrack's going to see that and break your heart," he said, pointing at Spot before stomping off after David.

"Jesus, is this what I'm fucking turning into?" Spot asked the empty room. Instead of wishing Slingshot was there he broke a vase that had been innocently sitting on the fireplace.

"I'm sorry about Spot," Racetrack said once again, this time going as far as to go all the way down to the basement so he could say it as Jack got ready for bed. "He's- … Well, his people skills are lacking, to say the least."

"Yeah, I know, Race," Jack grunted from the floor where he was doing sit ups. "I've met the guy, ya know." He gave a sigh that had nothing to do with his exercising. "You can be as sorry as you want, but that doesn't keep David from being angry at me. And it certainly doesn't mean that Spot won't do this exact same shit over as soon as he fe wants to"

"He won't," Racetrack promised. "I'll make sure he-"

"Make sure he does what?" Jack interrupted. "Make sure he listens to you? How? You going to deny him sex or something? You think you can control that guy? The only person who could control him was Slingshot, and now he's fucking gone, the sack of shit."

"Spot listens to me," Racetrack insisted. "You've seen him do it. He-"

"He listens to you," Jack repeated, nodding his head. "Yeah, he does. When he's in a good mood. He certainly didn't listen to you when he was breaking everything in sight earlier. You had no idea what to do. And Spot gets like that. He just does. Everyone here's used to it. You know who isn't?" he asked, finally stopping his exercising to lean over his knees and look up at Racetrack. "You."

Racetrack frowned down at him. "Today was-"

"Today was normal," Jack finished for him. "And no one knew what to do, because Slingshot always took care of it. Now the fucking bastard's dead, and Spot's going to run amok. Especially since he was the one who killed him."

Racetrack sat beside his friend. "Okay, so what is it you think we should do then?"

"I've got no idea what you guys should do," Jack admitted. "But I think I should get out while I still can. And I think you probably should, too, what with Spot being completely psychopathic and all."

"He's not psychopathic, Jack," Racetrack explained with a sigh. "He's just going through some things. His best friend just died. He's not-"

"Yeah, his best friend and fuck buddy, of which neither title Spot would ever grace him with, is dead because Spot fucking killed him," Jack pointed out.

"Because he betrayed him," Racetrack said.

"Because he's a lunatic," Jack immediately replied.

Racetrack frowned at him. "You can't seriously be thinking of defaulting ?"

"You can't seriously be thinking of staying with him ?" Jack shot back. "After knowing what he's like? Do you even know how he used to treat Slingshot? You think he's going to treat you any better?"

Racetrack's frown deepened. "How … how did he treat Slingshot? He treated him bad?"

Jack shook his head as he looked at Race in sympathy. "I don't know too much about it, but I know it wasn't good. What have Mush and Blink said about it? I can't help but notice that they don't exactly hang around here. You know, like ever."

"Mush," Racetrack started just to stop himself. "He's just got the wrong impression of Spot, that's all. He says he's uncomfortable being here, but he's never … I mean, maybe he's talked to me about Spot a few times, but he's never … He just doesn't-"

"Just doesn't understand?" Jack finished for him, raising an eyebrow. "Does anyone understand, Race? Do Bam or Speed understand? Or is Spot out of their mental grasp, too, even though they've known him for years? Have you ever talked to anyone here about what it is, exactly , you're getting into?"

"You're talking about defaulting, Jack," Racetrack said with a frown. "Over a basketball game."

"I'm talking about defaulting because I'm being pushed around by a mad man," Jack replied. "You're talking about dating said mad man, possibly for life, because if Slingshot's anything to go by, Spot doesn't let go. Ever." He raised an eyebrow at his friend. "You ever think about that? They've basically been doing whatever the fuck it was they were doing since Slingshot became his second. And the only reason it stopped is because Spot killed him. That doesn't freak you out?"

Racetrack sighed. "I get it. I do, but you're talking about defaulting. Wouldn't it be best to talk to him first? Let him know where you stand?"

"What, so he can kill me before I default?" Jack asked before shaking his head. "You don't get it, Race. You're too wrapped up in this. I've gotta leave. Planning on it, actually. Tonight. You're welcome to join me, if you ever get your head on straight."

Spot came home no less angry than when he had left, but he had managed to reign it in more. His hand was wrapped in the ace bandage David had insisted on giving him, and he even calmed down enough to feel guilty about breaking David's mom's vase or whatever. Not that it made him help fix it, but, you know, he felt a bit bad about the whole thing.

He was still angry his members were turning into giant pussies. Still angry he missed Slingshot. Still angry he had lost that stupid fucking bet that wasn't supposed to mean anything in the first place. And still angry he had nothing and no one to relieve his aggression on.

So when Stealth stopped him on his way up to his room to explain that the king had left to claim his rightful place in Manhattan Spot was elated. .

He grinned as he patted Stealth on the shoulder. "He already take off then? Know where he went?"

Stealth nodded, staring at Spot for a few seconds before answering. "I would imagine he went to the queen's house."

Spot rolled his eyes. "Would you stop calling him that shit? Fuck, he's a dude, for shit's sake, in case you hadn't noticed," he grumbled.

Stealth took only a few seconds to reply. "Royalty knows no gender."

"You're fucking with me, right?" Spot asked, raising an eyebrow. He stared Stealth down for several seconds before shaking his head and turning away. "Okay, yeah, whatever. Tell Racetrack-" He frowned before shaking his head once again. "Never mind," he decided before striding off, going back in the direction he had just come from.

He didn't have to tell Racetrack anything, after all. And maybe his members were turning into pussies because he was turning into a pussy, and wasn't that a thought that got his blood pressure rising.

Fuck all this relationship bullshit. Nothing had gone right since Racetrack had come into the picture. He'd kill him if he didn't think his fucking mother would freak the fuck out at him about it. Spot wanted to stab someone just thinking about it.

He turned around and went back towards Manhattan, all the while thinking about how many bones of Jack's he was going to break.

Jack was lying on David's pullout couch, curled in a blanket while his friend went to get him a spare pillow. If he had known he was going to basically be getting a double bed anytime he stayed with Davey he would have come here a long time ago.

He frowned, knowing that if he stayed more than a night or two he'd owe David more of an explanation than a simple "I don't want to go home tonight." He especially didn't want to have to explain that the home he didn't want to go back to also didn't exist.

But, the truth of things was he'd probably have to. Because who else did he have but David? Skittery was back in Brooklyn, and while Itey and Bumlets weren't a part of the gang they certainly slept there enough. He knew he couldn't go to Dutchy's place, since his parents would throw a fit. Maybe he could go over to Swifty's place. Or Mush's. Or Blink's. But his stomach churned at the thought of telling anyone of them about his situation. He felt relatively comfortable telling David, on the other hand. You know, because they were best friends. Not because he had a crush or whatever.

"Mom and Dad are at a conference," David said, coming around the corner with a pillow. "But they said you can stay for as long as you want. Sarah's over at Swifty's. She said they'd both be over sometime tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Davey," Jack replied, reaching for the pillow and putting it under his head. "You're a life saver, for real. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"You could probably manage to play a basketball game without it turning into a fist fight," David said with a frown as he crossed his arms. "You want to talk about that at all tonight?"

Jack sat up and scooted over, making room as David sat down next to him. "Not really," he admitted, looking down and playing with a corner of his blanket.

"I kind of thought that was the reason you came over," David said. "Or at the very least to apologize."

Jack looked up at him, staring. "What do I have to apologize for?"

"Treating me like a child for one!" David snapped. "I can take care of myself, you know. I certainly don't need you to protect me from my friends."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Jack exclaimed, leaning over. "One, Spot was being a huge jackass. He was bullying you, Davey! Were you at the same basketball game I was? And two, Spot is not your friend. He's not anybody's friend."

"Well, that just hurts my feelings," Spot said in a deadpan voice from behind Jack and David, causing them both to jump before whipping around.

"How the fuck did you even get in here!" Jack exclaimed, already getting off the couch to stand between David and Spot.

Spot just shrugged at him, not moving from his spot. "The door was open."

"It was not!" Jack argued. "I locked it behind me! I know I did!"

"So the door was open after I unlocked it," Spot answered calmly. "Who cares? Stop fucking screaming. Jesus, you're annoying."

That did nothing but make Jack scream more. "I'm annoying!? You just broke into someone's house! We should call the police!"

Spot raised an eyebrow, still as calm as ever. "You're going to call the police? Jesus, Jack, you're a fucking pussy," he said before turning away. "Shit, you're not even a regular pussy. You're like a cat's pussy. A pussy's pussy," he grumbled. "Fuck, it's pathetic."

" I'm pathetic!?" Jack exclaimed. "I'm not the one running around like a crazy person, am I? I'm not the one trying to break David's arm so I'd come to his defense or whatever the fuck it was you were trying to do. I'm-"

"You're the one too chicken-shit to tell me you were defaulting," Spot pointed out with a glare. "You're the one who's too much of a pussy to tell David you wanna plow him, which is the only reason I was trying to break his arm in the first place."

"I- I don't want to plow him!" Jack exclaimed as his face turned bright red.

"You told me you weren't trying to hurt me!" David exclaimed at the same time.

Spot frowned at David. "I never said that."

"You knew he was going to attack you?" Jack exclaimed, turning to David as well.

"He didn't attack me, Jack!" David argued back. "We were playing basketball!"

"Yeah, basketball , Davey!" Jack yelled. "Not fucking football! You're not supposed to be shoving people around!"

"Everyone was fouling everybody else! Why is it I'm the only one you're concerned about? Stop treating me like I can't fend for myself!"

"I know you can!" Jack shouted back. "I just fucking care about you, you idiot! Excuse me for not wanting you to get hurt!"

"So you can get hurt, and I can't? Is that it? Because you can take a punch, but for some reason I'm too soft to be able to do the same? What is it about me that makes you think I can't look out for myself?" David exclaimed, flinging his arms out for emphasis.

"David, you idiot," Jack yelled back. "It's not about whether or not I think you're capable of handling yourself! Why the hell do you think that someone loving you and caring about your well being is a bad thing?"

David stared at Jack for a beat, before Jack's eyes widened.

"This is turning out way gayer than I thought it would," Spot muttered.

"I didn't mean that!" Jack shouted almost at the same time. His eyes were still wide as he slapped his hands over his mouth. "What I meant was-"

"No! No, no, no," David replied, walking over to Jack and jerking his hands off of his mouth. "You don't get to just drop something like that on me, and then pretend like you didn't say it! And you," he began, rounding onto Spot as he thrust a finger in his direction, "You can just shut the hell up, because you are not ruining this for me!"

Spot crossed his arms as he glared at David. When he didn't flinched he rolled his eyes. "Don't understand why you're blaming me for Jack's inadequacies."

David was content to ignore him.

"David, please don't overthink this like you always do," Jack pleaded. "Can we please just let it go?"

"No, Jack, I will not just 'let it go'," David snapped. "No one accidentally slips in an 'I love you' into the conversation unless they mean it!"

"David, I never said that! That wasn't what I ..." Jack trailed off. "I mean, I know what it might have sounded like, but-"

"But what?" David snapped. "Just spit it out, Jack. Do you love me or not?"

"This is definitely way gayer than I thought it'd be," Spot muttered to himself.

Jack heaved a sigh. "You know I like you a lot, Davey, but …"

"Oh, just get the fuck out, Jack!" David snapped, shoving him back. "Spot's right: you are a fucking pussy," he said before stomping up the stairs.

Jack stood staring at the floor as he listened to David's angry movements fade away. He snapped right back to attention as soon as he heard Spot's sniggering. "What the fuck about this do you think is funny?" he asked, striding up to Spot.

Spot was far from intimidated. "Oh, I think everything about this is funny." He stopped laughing to look Jack up and down. "Not only are you a pussy, but you're a masochist as well. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with me ?" Jack snapped back. "What the fuck is wrong with you ? You're a fucking sadist who won't even admit that he misses someone! You run around getting yourself involved in things that aren't any of your business. Then you get all pissed when people don't act like your fucking puppets. Why the fuck are you even here? And don't say it's because you were bored or because you thought it'd be funny. I wanna hear the real fucking reason."

"I'm here because you fucking left me, and I knew you'd come straight here," Spot answered, no longer smirking. He stared at the floor. "I knew from the beginning that I wouldn't be enough for you," he admitted quietly. "Should have known my dick wasn't going to keep you in Brooklyn, but I always had hope." He sniffed, still staring at the floor.

Jack snarled before he threw a punch that Spot easily dodged. "Stop making a joke out of everything, you fucking bastard!"

Spot leaned back to dodge another two blows Jack had aimed for him, not even bothering to put his hands up. "You're the one too chicken shit to go after what you want," he pointed out, his smirk returning. "How big of a pussy do you have to be not to tell the boy you like that you have faggy feelings towards him?"

"How big of a psychopath do you have to be to destroy an entire hotel because people don't do what you want?" Jack snapped back, still flinging his fists wildly toward Spot.

Spot rolled his eyes even as he continued to dodge Jack's punches. "Oh, dear, you really think I'm a psychopath? Way to really cut me. Never heard that one before. Think I'm going to take a real, hard look at my life, and really-" He cut himself off as he leapt out of the way as Jack lunged for him. "Watch it, Jackie-Boy," he warned, his eyes narrowed. "Or I'm going to start thinking that you're trying to be serious."

"Everything's a fucking game with you, isn't it?" Jack exploded, flinging his arms out. "You don't take anything or anyone seriously! And you think you own me! You went so far as to track me down when I left! You've never been quiet about what happens to people who don't do what you want! And you're surprised that I don't want to introduce a guy I care about into that life?"

Spot frowned and blinked at him for several seconds. "Huh. That's interesting," he finally muttered. He scratched his chin and started pacing the room.

So he was the reason Jack wasn't going to date. He briefly wondered if his other subordinates thought that way before quickly shaking off the thought. Whether they were or weren't wasn't really his problem. He had other things to deal with that were more important.

He had to win that bet.

"Alright, fine," Spot finally said, turning to Jack. "If I'm the only thing keeping you from dumping all your fag feelings onto that nerd then prove it."

Jack glared at him, still trying to control his breath from all the haphazard punches he had thrown before. "Prove it how, you fucking genius? What the fuck are you even saying?"

Spot rolled his eyes. "I'm saying you're released, you fucking dumbass. I'll let you leave the gang with no threat to your life or loss of limbs." He snorted. "As long as you prove you aren't a pussy and ask that faggot upstairs to go out with you."

Jack's eyes grew. "You can't be serious," he replied quietly. "What the- … Just what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Spot crossed his arms. "Can't help it if I'm a romantic at heart, can I?"

"You don't expect me to buy that garbage, do you?" Jack shot back fiercely. "Exactly what are you playing at here?" He glared before his eyebrows rose in understanding. "You don't think I'll do it, do you? You think I'm going to pussy out, and then I'll have to come back to the gang with no complaints because my excuse for quitting is gone. That's it, isn't it?"

Spot shrugged. "Gotta admit, Jackie-Boy, betting on the fact that you're a pussy is a pretty safe one. Can't blame a guy for investing in a safe bet."

Jack narrowed his eyes again. "I'll show you who's a pussy," he challenged before whirling around and charging up the stairs, calling out David's name.

Spot rolled his eyes. For someone who was constantly calling him out on playing people, Jack was sure easy to play. He looked at the time: 10:23. It was still the same day, which meant that, despite the initial hiccough in his plan, he was going to win the bet.

He sighed as he let himself out through the front door, not bothering to lock it behind him. He should have known something like this was going to happen after Stealth's stupid premonition. That asshole was always fucking right.

But, still, he had won, and that was what was important.

"Ha! I knew you couldn't have fucking won!" Skittery announced with glee, snatching Spot's freshly acquired money from his hand as soon as Jack entered the kitchen for breakfast.

"Why the fuck are you here? What the fuck did you do, you fucking pansy ass fuck?" Spot burst out, leaping from his chair as he glared at Jack. "I practically walked you through the door and into David's fucking arms last night. How the fuck did you manage to fuck it up?"

Jack glared around the table before heading to the fridge. "I thought you all agreed to drop this stupid ass bet," he muttered angrily. "Didn't you agree to stop fucking around in my life?"

"Racetrack agreed," Spot answered, looking at his boyfriend's frowning face from across the table. "I did no such thing. And it's your fault anyway. If you'd have fucking done it right you wouldn't be here to complain about it."

"I did do everything fucking right," Jack snapped as he took out the butter and set it on the counter. He reached over to get two pieces of bread and popped them in the toaster. He stared hard at it before finally grumbling, "He said he wasn't interested."

Skittery was the first one to reply. "Huh. Gotta be honest with ya, I was not expecting that one. Why the fuck's he making moon eyes at you all the time if he doesn't wanna be fucked?"

"Because Jack somehow fucked it up," Spot answered, glaring at the boy in question. "After all my hard work you just pissed the fuck all over it."

"What the hell is it that you think you did?" Jack snapped back, finally whirling around to face the table. "You just ran around cursing and breaking shit like a fucking crazy person! How the fuck do you think that helped?"

"I think I did everything!" Spot shouted, leaping up from his chair as he pointed at Jack. "I did a hell of a lot more than you did, that's for sure! And after all my hard work you just ruined everything!"

"What hard work?" Jack screamed back, his voice shrill. "Because all you fucking managed to do was lose me my best friend! He doesn't even want to speak to me anymore, you giant piece of shit."

Spot made it across the room in three strides and punched Jack in the mouth. He glared at him for a few seconds before spinning around and walking out of the kitchen. "Maybe if you didn't fucking talk you wouldn't keep ruining everything for yourself," he grumbled.

Skittery looked at the now empty doorway before looking back to Jack's crumbled form on the floor. "Now, that I did expect."

Racetrack rolled his eyes before standing up from the table himself. "I'll go check on Sean. You make sure Jack's okay," he commanded before walking out.

Skittery watched him leave before he was back to looking at Jack, still unmoving on the floor. "Oi, Jack, what were you making before Spot fucked you all up? Cause I would not be upset about you making me some scrambled eggs."

Specs rubbed his head. "I don't really know what you're trying to get at here, David," he admitted. "I thought you liked Jack."

"Whether or not I like Jack isn't the point!" David pointed out, finally halting his pacing as he fumed at Specs. "It's just …" He frowned as the glare slipped from his face. He sighed as he dropped on his bed so he was sitting next to his friend. "Whether or not I like him, and whether or not he likes me, that still doesn't change the fact that he's ashamed of it."

Specs put his hand on David's shoulder as he tried not to squirm. He didn't want to tell his best friend that he understood Jack's side a little too well. He wasn't particularly against the idea of keeping things quiet. Not that he was about to tell David that, of course. He was getting a lotbetter at keeping his mouth shut about opinions like that .

"What's the point of being in a relationship with someone who's adamant about pretending it doesn't exist when we aren't behind closed doors?" David asked, his head in his hands. "How am I supposed to be okay with that? He thinks I can just stand by while he goes traipsing off on dates with cheerleaders? That I'll just be waiting around until whenever it's convenient for him to come over?"

Specs held back another urge to squirm. That sounded like a pretty good life, if he was honest. He wondered if Dutchy would agree to something like that. The guy wasn't nearly as melodramatic as David. Maybe he would take the suggestion in stride.

"I don't understand what he was thinking," David continued. "He didn't take my feelings into account whatsoever. Even if he was scared to come out of the closet he shouldn't have acted like I would willingly go back into one for him. And I can't believe he would have the audacity to even askme to. It's like he doesn't even know me. I'm not even sure I can be friends with a guy like that." He leapt off the bed as he started back up his pacing.

Specs frowned. So maybe he wouldn't ask Dutchy to mimic Jack's suggested arrangement after all. He listened while David listed all the reasons Jack had slighted him and sighed.

So much for all of them being together again.

TBC