The California AU: Bloody Knuckles
based off of @bitching-newsboys ‘ aesthetic
warnings: spot beats a guy tf up, blood
ship: sprace
word count: 654
-
“What, we got some fags here?”
Race hadn’t even registered the words until Spot’s hand was gone from his grip. He could feel his head spinning as he turned in time to see Spot’s fist connect with some asshole’s jaw. His eyes were flaming in a way that made Race’s stomach clench and he froze. He’d seen Spot angry before, but nothing as extreme as this. It was as if his fight or flight had been turned from zero to one hundred, his fight instincts taking over incomprehensibly fast.
By the time the shock wore off, Spot had landed a few more hits. The other guy was hunched over, hands covering his face as he cowered. Blood was oozing down his face, thick droplets landing on the concrete underneath them, turning pink in the falling rain. Spot looked terrifying, teeth bared as he reared his arm back, other hand gripping the guy’s jacket as he found leverage for another blow.
Rain hit the windshield hard, only to be swept away moments later by the windshield wipers. Fingers tapped the steering wheel anxiously, a bouncing leg to accompany the repetitive sound. They were speeding along the interstate, far away from trouble.
Race’s gaze shifted between the water droplets on his window and Spot, whose jaw was clenched impossibly tight. He bit his lip, refraining from voicing his worries as his eyes traveled down to Spot’s knuckles, which were swollen and crusted with dried blood.
“Spot, lay off!”
Race lunged forward, grabbing Spot from behind and turning him sharply. Spot’s chest was heaving and he struggled in Race’s arms, trying to advance on the guy once more.
“Spot, look at me,” Race urged, “Come on, it’s not worth it.”
Spot wasn’t hearing it. Glazed over eyes struggled to stay focused on one thing. Vibrating hands reaching up to grip firm wrists, bounding him to the spot, but doing nothing to ground him.
“Sean.”
Spot’s eyes snapped to meet Race’s and Race let out a relieved sigh.
He hardened his gaze, demanding in few words for Spot to stay with him, “Let it go.”
Something seemed to break within Spot and his features softened. Something like fear flickered across his face and he cursed, glancing at the guy once more. He had yet to get up, still slumped on the wet pavement and nursing a bloody nose and soon to be black eye.
Without another word, Spot grabbed Race’s hand and they ran.
A car horn honked somewhere behind them and Spot grumbled, taking the nearest exit. They drove for another ten or so minutes in silence before turning into a small shopping center, where a grocery store and McDonald’s was located. Spot pulled up to the drive-thru and Race turned a quizzical eye towards him.
Spot glimpsed at him briefly, “I want a shamrock shake,” he said, rather defensively.
Race smirked, “Will it make you feel better?”
Spot nodded, rolling down the window.
“Idiot,” Race muttered, “get me one, too.”
They sat in the nearly vacant parking lot, allowing for the dark quiet to wash over them. Spot reclined his seat, looking significantly less angry with each sip of his shake. Race eyed him for a minute before crawling over the console and wriggling next to Spot. It was a tight fit, but Spot held him tight.
“Are you alright?” Race asked after a moment of tense silence.
Spot hummed, “Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Race said, tracing shapes on Spot’s chest, “But you looked really....”
“...Gone?” Spot offered.
Race nodded, “yeah, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Spot sighed, “I felt gone, too,” he paused, “it was kind of scary.”
Race looked up at him, watching as the streetlights danced through the car window, illuminating the worried lines on Spot’s face.
He traced a hand down his jaw, catching his attention, “You’re safe.”
Spot studied him for a minute, then reached up to clasp their hands together, “I know.”
-
yeeet if you want an aesthetic written, hmu i got a folder goin
thanks for reading, chiefs
hmu to be added to my tag
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