Race slammed the door behind him, where he was met with his husbands' soft brown eyes. The man shoved past his shorter counterpart and stormed into the bedroom, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close to him in order to keep himself from punching something. Race heard a knock on the door and turned to face the wall. Spot's head peeks around the doorframe and he walks farther into the room.
"Racer, what's wrong," he asks, sitting on the bed beside him. "You know you can tell me anything."
Race sighed, looking at his dirt covered hands. "It's nothing. I just had a bad day today." he huffed as Spot pulled the taller boy into his lap.
Race leaned his head on Spot's shoulder. "It's alright, Honey Bun," Spot coos in his ear, grabbing his phone from beside him, turning on their song.
Live in my house
I'll be your shelter
The familiar tune fills the small apartment as Spot rocks the blond in his arms.
Just pay me back
With one thousand kisses
Race's tear slow down and he smiles at Spot who was humming with the track.
Be my lover
And I'll cover you
Spot planted a soft kiss on his husband's nose, setting him down to dance.
Open your door
I'll be your tenant
Race pulled Spot into a hug and swayed around the room with him, occasionally stepping lightly on his toes.
The rest of the evening was spent dancing in the small bedroom, long after the music had ended. Race had forgotten about why he was upset and Spot, the stoic King of Brooklyn, was to thank for that.