Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I never, ever will.

Author's Note: Written for The Refuge's 2009 Summer Secret Slash.

"I got something to show you."

Racetrack was suspicious. He'd known Spot Conlon long enough to know that whenever he wanted to show you something, it was rarely going to be anything good. Actually, make that never. It was never going to be anything good. And the fact that Spot had said that immediately after coming back into their apartment was another warning sign.

"Yeah, okay, what is it?" Race asked, refusing to play along. Whatever Spot was up to, Race did not want to get dragged into it. Especially on such a hot summer day. They had just moved in to their own apartment and hadn't yet gotten an air conditioner. Lying in the living room, on the couch, in front of the fan, naked, while doing absolutely nothing, was the only acceptable activity. Race was completely fine with this activity and was annoyed that Spot seemed intent on ruining his leisure.

"Come on, you lazy ass, get moving." Spot kicked at Race's legs. Race was too hot to even shift away, and just ignored it.

"Why can't you just tell me what it is, if it's so damn important?"

Spot kicked Race's legs again.

"I can't tell you, you just gotta see it."

"Do I gotta go outside?"


"Yeah," Spot said as though he was personally offended that Race was being so stupid.

"But that means I'd have to get dressed. Which means I'd have to move. Which means I'm not going to get up. And stop fucking kicking me."

Spot glared and stormed out of the room. Race was sure that was the end of it. He sighed into the fan and closed his eyes. Only to suddenly feel something thrown at his head. He opened his eyes and saw that Spot had gotten him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"I'll be waiting," Spot said, and then walked out of the apartment. Race cursed, and started getting dressed.

"So...now what?" Race walked out the door to the apartment and regarded Spot with suspicion. Spot just gestured to the hallway staircase.

"Up," he said, and started walking. Race followed, begrudgingly. Their apartment was on the second floor of the building. The building only had five floors. They didn't know any of the neighbors yet, so Race was fairly confused as to what Spot was scheming.

They finally stopped at the top of the staircase, at the door to the roof. Race was, to put it lightly, annoyed. This had been a completely pointless exercise. The door to the roof was locked, which they both knew since that was one of the first things they checked after moving in.

"...You want a trophy?" Race asked, annoyed at the whole situation. Spot had gotten him up, made him put on clothes, moved him away from the fan, to walk upstairs, all to end up in front of a locked door.

Spot looked back at him, rolled his eyes, and then opened the door. He walked through, and held the door open; smirking at Race's stunned expression. As Race walked onto the roof, he realized that he should have seen this coming. Spot Conlon was notorious for getting his way.

"How did you manage this?" Race asked as he strolled around the roof. Spot wedged the door open with a brick, and made sure it didn't close all the way.

"I got my ways."

Race looked back at the door and noticed the latch hanging off of it.

"Crowbar?" he asked. Spot smiled and Race had his answer.

"Why, Spot Conlon," Race said, looking down on the street. "If I didn't know any better, I might just call this downright 'romantic.'"

He walked over to Spot and pulled him close. Race leaned in to kiss him, but Spot moved away.

"You ain't even seen the best part yet," he said, and he turned Race around.

It wasn't that Race hadn't ever seen a sunset before. Hell, he'd even seen sunsets from rooftops before. But this time, being on the roof of the building he lived in with Spot, while standing with Spot's arms around him, doing something just a little illegal, well, that made it one hell of a sunset.

"You know," Race said, "Sometimes, I kinda love you."

Spot just smiled into Race's neck.