THIS IS INSPIRED BY THIS POST, WHICH @pigeonwit REPOSTED WITH THE CRUTCHTRACK TAG LAST YEAR. THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR AT LEAST 9 MONTHS. AUGH.
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“‘Ey, freeloader, git up.”
Crutchie groans and turns his head away from the fingers digging into his temple, mumbling out some vague curse words as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter.
“C’mon, Crutch, wakey wakey. I’m starvin’ an yer’ payin’ fer breakfast.” The offending fingers move down to prod into his side, and Crutchie jerks and throws out an arm when they catch him in the soft spot beneath his ribs. Judging by the impact against the back of his hand and the yelp to his left, he’s hit his mark.
He slowly blinks his eyes open, squinting out the windshield. The glass is fogged up and flecked with snow, thanks to Race’s busted defroster, but Crutchie can make out the lurid yellow of the Denny’s sign, bright against the starry sky. Now that he thinks about it, the moon should not be out during breakfast.
“Wh’t time s’it?” He interrupts Race’s sputtering, turning to level him with a stare that makes his mouth shut with an audible click. The sheepish look on his face speaks volumes, and Crutchie barely controls the urge to throttle the asshole to his left as his eyes slide over to glare at the neon green 3:42 blinking up at him from the dashboard clock.
“S’never too early fer breakfast.” Race pipes up from the driver’s seat. Crutchie turns to scowl at him, fully contemplating the drawbacks of beating Race over the head with his crutch. He knows assault is generally frowned upon, but he thinks maybe the police would give him a pass for this one.
Except, Race’s hair is falling in a mussed up flop over his forehead, his eyes are wide, and his bottom lip is stuck out ever so slightly. He is performing a truly masterful puppy-eyed frown. Crutchie feels the threatening spark of rage in his stomach wink out, replaced by that familiar, fluttery Race feeling.
Goddamnit.
—
The old door hinges screech as they push their way through into the lobby, and Crutchie stomps snow off of his trainers while Race asks for a “table fer’ two” like they’re at a five star restaurant. He grins at Crutchie brightly as he flops into the booth across from him, hands splayed across the grimy table like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever touched. The fluttering in his chest makes itself known once again.
Crutchie never said he was a strong man.
Race asks the waitress for waters as she passes their table. Crutchie’s pretty sure she either didn’t hear or didn’t care, because she barely glances at them as she pushes through the swinging door into the kitchen. He snorts.
“Pretty sure she was havin’ a nice nap before we came in.”
“Yeah, well, we aint gonna keep her long.”
“We better not. I was havin’ a nice nap before we came in.”
“Aww, cheer up, ya grump. They have pancakes.”
That quiets Crutchie, and he only offers a few more token grumbles as he watches the waitress come back with two waters. She carries an aura of cigarette smoke and flowery perfume with her, and it seems to perk Race up like smelling salts. She sets the waters down on the table in front of them and takes out her notepad, clicking her pen expectantly without saying a word. Race isn’t deterred in the slightest.
“Hey ma’am, g’mornin to ya! S’nice ta’ see a friendly face all th’ way out here.” He smiles charmingly. The waitress is unimpressed, and she seems to get more and more exasperated as Race rattles off their orders. Her masterful deflection of Race’s energy vindicates him a little. The smile Race blasts him with as she leaves is blinding, and it scrubs away any remaining annoyance Crutchie feels. God forbid he stop complaining, though. It’s one of his great joys in life.
“Y’didn’t let me order for m’self. How’d ya know what I want?” He takes a long sip of his water, crinkling his nose at the faint metallic taste that lingers in his mouth afterwards. Race, on the other hand, swirls his around in the chipped plastic cup like it’s a fine wine. He scoffs at Crutchie from across the table, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at him.
“C’mon, Crutch. I know you, stop pretendin’ like I don’t.” He‘s struck dumb by the smile Race sends him over the rim of the cup, warm and familiar. The fluttering comes back, butterfly wings beating against the inside of his ribs and making him nauseous at the way Race’s eyes crinkle at the corners. Jesus.
He ducks his head as his face heats, grunting noncommittally and taking a few more gulps of water. The waitress comes back and leaves them two coffees as he’s collecting himself, and by the time he looks up Race is holding his cup about an inch away from his face, basking in the steam.
God, Crutchie just can’t stop himself from staring.
He can’t help it. Race is practically glowing. His hair shines in the fluorescent light of the cheap ceiling fixtures, unbrushed and wild after a night of driving. His jaw is lined with three days’ worth of rough stubble, and there are the beginnings of some serious bags beneath his eyes. He’s wearing a gray Jets sweater that definitely belonged to Albert at one point. It’s faded and stretched to all hell, the decal cracked, the string long gone, the hood half ripped off the collar. In short, he’s absolutely unkempt.
Crutchie loves him.
It hits him suddenly, and if he were standing it would’ve brought him to the ground. He loves Race. Loves him so much it makes his hands tremble and his chest ache. Loves him so much it lives like a physical thing behind his ribs, clawing and beating its way up his throat as he watches Race pour milk in his coffee. He can’t control it, can’t tame it, he can only open his mouth as it nestles itself behind his tongue, ready to jump out and-
Race opens his eyes and meets his gaze, and his momentary rush of confidence is washed away in an instant. Crutchie closes his jaw with an audible click and swallows thickly, fumbling for something, anything to say.
“You’ve got somethin’ on yer’ face.”
Race’s brow furrows, and he rubs a hand over his cheek. “What? Where?”
Crutchie reaches out one hand towards Race’s face, oh so slowly, fingertips outstretched. He takes a deep breath and…
“Ow, dammit, Crutch!”
Race recoils, rubbing his forehead where Crutchie had flicked it. “Now what the hell was that for?” He glares as Crutchie leans back in his seat, pressing his shaky hand flat to the table and shrugging.
“Damn, guess it was just yer’ face. My bad.” Something in him is soothed as Race laughs at him incredulously. He watches him start tearing his napkin into pieces to make spitballs, and the thing in his abdomen quietly curls into a purring ball behind his sternum.
It’s okay, he thinks as Race lines up his ammunition on the edge of the table, running his mouth about how Crutchie’s started “a war he won’t win”. It’s okay to not say it now. It’s okay. We have time.
As Race starts a spitball war with him at 4:30AM in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, Crutchie knows one thing better than he knows anything.
You know what? I have a really good idea for Stray Gods II that could have a plot twist like you know... WOOOW.
So let's start with the fact that we have two important things. First is "The Gap" which is a period of time that gods don't remember and don't know what caused it so they don't know what happened to the majority of the rest of Olympus.
The second is what Athena says, that most of the current myths have little to do with truth, she makes fun of the fact that the gods don't live on the mountain and generally you can conclude that their skills were a bit overrated.
And that leads me to my idea… what if Athena is so amused by "new myths and legends" because the fact that she popped out of her father's head is complete nonsense? What if Metis really did bear Zeus two children and their son really did throw him off the throne, that's why "The Gap" came about in the first place, the end of Zeus' reign which may have ended so drastically that the gods barely survived it?
What if Apollo inadvertently predicted that his half-brother would overthrow their father and that ended with "Metis leaving the way by the hands of Zeus" (which could be uncertain for the player until the end of the game) and that's why he's so subservient to Athena? I assume that's because he stands up to her at the end of the game and she says in shock "This coming from you?". Maybe that's why, even though he doesn't do it anymore, he made the prophecy about the last Muse to Athena? He just feel guilty?
Now that Athena has had her little act of villainy and decided to disappear, imagine what could have happened next? Maybe she knows where her brother is (or maybe the rest of the Idols thought he was dead) and went after him because he's the most powerful of them all, still? Maybe she doesn't know and wants to find him? Does the boy know? Or maybe Grace will accidentally find him first? Maybe other gods we don't know about much but who still live like Heph and Dio appear, maybe they have contact with their half-brother? Maybe Hera will appear through him too? Does he support Athena's side?
AHHHH this idea seems so good, I would love to play a game like this!
What can you tease about what's to come in the final episodes of the season?
McClain: Grace finally weasels her way out of the call center. [Laughs.] She makes her way from behind the desk and gets in there a little bit, and you'll see more of Grace and Carlos [Rafael L. Silva], whom I love. I'm obviously biased because me and Raf are so close, but that's another dynamic that you get to see translate from the people to the actual characters. The personal relationships are my favorite because you get to see the real-life dynamic — the love, the rapport, the experience of those two people in the characters. So you'll get to see them getting down and getting their hands dirty a little bit.
TV Insider:
When are we getting more Grace and Carlos (Rafael Silva) scenes?
You are going to get a little bit more Grace and Carlos, or Crace, as Raf so affectionately has dubbed them. That’s going to be something super fun for the audience because you’ve seen them do some detective work and problem solving together. And I will definitely say it’s not the end of that. It’s really great because Raf and I have a good relationship in real life. We got closer these last couple seasons and so it’s fun to actually be able to play those things with him now that we are as close as we are.
Sierra McClain teases her upcoming storyline with Rafael Silva in 911: LONE STAR S4 E15 - “Donors”
Hello, I received the best gift fic ever for @newsiesficchallenges and it's CRUTCHTRACK, because what else are Crutchie and Racetrack going to do while Jack is tied up with Katherine and David?? @a-natural-satellite-of-the-earth characterized both of these silly assholes perfectly, so do yourself a favor and go read it here!
Also omg if anyone knows how to post an ao3 preview here, please tell me!!!!
