Work Text:
He has bit off way more than he can chew.
He should have known that there would be stress to come with a full time cleaning job, as well as paying for rent in an apartment that was way too expensive. But Racetrack Higgins never gave up.
A few weeks ago, he was happy. He was still full of youth, and he had a place to live and a job that pays him well enough. What more could he ask for?
Well, despite being ok on his own, there was some clear stress that came with it. Sure, the old lady was harsh on him, but he needed this job. He was good at it too. Cleaning the nice, rich townhouse for an older woman who was generous enough to give him a quarter a day. If he did a satisfactory job.
He was still at work. He was doing the laundry, making sure that he handled the delicate, expensive clothes with care. The old woman made sure of it.
While washing the clothes, he heard the door open and close. It was probably another one of the cleaners, as the old woman had many.
“Antonio, dear, I need you for a moment,” the old woman croaked out. Her voice was raspy, but it was calming. Race walked over to her and noticed. Oh no. No no no no no no not them! Anyone but them! Race though. He thought he’d never see those two again. Before he could have a reaction, the old woman spoke again. “Antonio, these are my grandsons, Oscar and Morris. They will be in charge of my estate while I am on my trip,”
Race nodded politely. He couldn’t seem to have any other reaction.
Morris spoke up. “Nice to meet you Antonio,” his real name was like poison on Morris’ lips. They only knew him by Race up until this point.
“Well, now that introductions are done, get back to work Antonio. I won’t see you tomorrow, as I will be on my trip. Ta-ta!” the old woman left, and Race quickly turned around and scurried off. He only had a few hours left. Hopefully the Delancey’s would leave him alone until then.
He continued to wash the clothes in the washtub, while humming a melody that his mother used to sing to him. Oh, how he missed his mother. She was probably off in Italy somewhere, but at least she once cared about her son. His father couldn’t give two shits.
He continued humming, peacefully, until he felt two hands on his shoulders. He was spun around, and met face to face with none other than Oscar Delancey. “Nice tune, Antonio,” he smirked. “Where D'ya learn it from?” His words were like poison. And Race wanted to get away.
“My mother…” Race was looking down. Oscar cackled with delight. “That’s a good one. We all know you don’t got a mother. You’re just a silly, stupid old newsboy that won’t get anywhere in this world. Don’t try and expect us to pay you. We’d fire you if Gran let us. But we can’t. So expect something far worse.” he let out a low chuckle and walked away.
Race tried to continue his work, but it was difficult when there were two Delancey’s in the house who couldn’t wait to get their hands on him. He was close to done with the wash when suddenly, strong hands gripped his shoulders and pushed his face into the water. The soapy, grease filled water burned Race’s eyes. He tried to scream, but he was being held there. The brothers brought him out of the water.
“Go home.” Morris had a stern tone to his voice. Race scurried to his feet and walked away quickly.
The night was cool, so Race was shivering from the water. He made it back to his apartment, and found a blanket. It wasn’t a fancy blanket, but it was a gift from some of his fellow newsies. He smiled at the blanket, and then fell asleep on his couch.
----
The next morning came, and Race was dreading going to work. He knew he’d have to deal with the Delancey's again. But he would try his best to ignore them. He could do that.
He walked into the townhouse and down to the basement, where all of the staff went for work. He got some friendly greetings from his coworkers, and grabbed his apron to get to work. He was working on washing the dishes this morning. He was so lost in his own world, when he heard shouting.
“Can’t even do a decent job?? What, were you raised in a barn?” the brothers were shouting at one of his coworkers, Carlota. She had been like a mother to Race ever since he started working there.
“Leave her alone. She did nothing wrong.” Race stood up against the Delancey's. He wouldn’t let them treat his coworkers like that.
“Oh? Well then Antonio, why aren’t you working then?”
“Because I’m not going to stand by while you treat my coworkers like they’re objects. They’re hard workers. And it’s not nice to just pick on whoever you want. So leave. You shouldn’t even be down here in the first place. We have a supervisor for a reason. And you just insulted her.”
The brothers scowled and walked away. “Grazie, Antonio. Grazie,” Carlota thanked Race in their native tongue. Race smiled at her, and went back to his work. He was humming another tune. Although this time it wasn’t his mother’s song. It was a song that his boyfriend had sung to him. He had missed his boyfriend dearly. He hadn’t seen him in awhile, as he had been away for work. They were saving up to buy an apartment together, so then they never had to worry about things like this. And besides, queer people weren’t really accepted in this society. He was snapped out of his trance to the sound of a loud crash on the ground. He looked down, and there was a broken dish. The shock from the sound had made him drop the one in his hand as well. Great. Two broken plates. He quickly fell to his knees and began to clean up the plates. In his hurry, he ended up cutting his hand on one of the shards. He winced in pain, but still managed to grab the dustpan to sweep them all up.
“Well, that was entertaining,” a sly Morris was sitting on one of the countertops.
“I thought I said you both weren’t allowed down here. Leave, Morris.” Race didn’t make eye contact. He wanted to hide the fact that he was worried.
“No, I don’t think I will,” Morris walked over to the rack of newly clean dishes and grabbed another plate. “Gran would be so disappointed to learn that one of her best employees broke Three plates,” he held it out for Race to see, and dropped it.
Race was mortified. He knew that the old lady would never believe a housekeeper like him over her own grandson. Morris chuckled lowly as Race sat there shaking in the pile of broken plates. He was speechless. He was bleeding, and his eyes began to well with tears. Everyone else was out working the house or the grounds, so here he was all alone in the basement.
Morris left, and Race stood up to go find some bandages. He found some in the medicine cabinet in the basement bathroom. He wrapped up his hand and went to clean up the rest of the broken dishes.
----
The next few weeks went by similarly. Race would be minding his own business, and then one of the brothers would come along and do things to make race stress out. They had broken dishes and heirlooms, ripped clothes, and even said some horrible, awful things to Race. The brothers would sometimes even make Race work late, or release the other staff early just so they could torment Race. They barely even paid him. A quarter a week was barely enough to get by on. And worst of all, they would say horrible things to him.they used his name inappropriately, making fun of the fact that he was Italian. All that the brothers did was tear Race down, and Race endured every second of it. What else was he supposed to do? He just prayed that the old woman would come back soon. She might have been strict, but at least she was kind to her employees.
----
The breaking point was one particular day. Race was cleaning the house, as the brothers had said they would be having guests. Race worked hard, because he knew that the house had to be presentable. He finished up, and was ready to clock out for the day, since the Delancey’s had said everyone could go home before the guests arrived, which would be around 1 pm.
Race had almost been out the door when he was turned around by Oscar grabbing him by the shoulders. “You stay. We need someone to help serve us and our guests.”
“Ask someone else. I’m leaving.” Race was done. He just wanted to get home for the day. He was slapped across the face for that.
“You’re serving us. Now, run to the kitchen and grab us some drinks,” Oscar left, and Race went to find some drinks. He settled with whiskey, because it was the first thing that he could find. He went upstairs and to the living room. He heard voices inside, so the guests must be in there. He walks in, and his eyes widen. Sitting there, in the living room with Oscar and Morris, are Snyder and Weasel. Race put the glasses down on the coffee table, filled them, and attempted to walk away.
“I know you. You were in the refuge a few times,” Snyder spoke.
“I thought you were in jail,” Race didn’t turn around.
“Don’t be impolite, boy. Look at me when I’m speaking,” Snyder snarled. Race turned round, but there was clear worry in his face.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Race spoke sternly. He wanted to show that he wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Ah, yes. Well I was, but my sentence was only for three years. It’s been more than that hasn’t it, Racetrack. Or should I say, Antonio.” The way that Snyder said his real name was enough to make Race want to run away. The only people allowed to say his real name were Carlota, Jack and Spot. And hearing Snyder say it with such venom in his words, that was enough to tip Race over the edge.
“You have no right to call me that,” Race was furious.
“I believe freedom of speech allows me to say whatever I want, so, technically, I can.” Race had heard enough. He stormed out of the room and back to the basement. He fell to the floor and cried. His sobbing was heavy, he didn’t want to go back up there. So, he stayed down here and sobbed with his knees to his chest.
“You piece of shit! How dare you walk out and embarrass us in front of our guests!” the brothers came downstairs and ripped race out of the corner by his arms, “we were going easy on you. I think it’s time you learned a lesson. What do ya say Morris?”
Morris only smirked and chuckled. That was enough confirmation for Oscar to kick Race in the gut. Race wailed in pain, and kept earning kicks to the gut, back, and anywhere else they could reach.
He had been slapped, punched, and kicked. The brothers kept letting out hurtful words, and Race could only think back to his horrible days in the refuge. When they were finally done, Race wearily got up. He had to make it back home, he wanted his bed. He wanted his blanket. He wanted Spot.
That last one was impossible. Spot would be away for a while, he knew that. But it didn’t stop Race from longing for him.
Race walked home in the cool autumn air, limp visible and tears pooling in his eyes. He got weird stares, but of course that’s how rich folk would look at him. He probably lost a fight is what they all thought. Race just wanted away from it all.
He got home and collapsed as soon as he closed the door. He couldn’t do it anymore. He had been enduring all this torment for weeks, and now he was breaking. He was letting his walls come crashing down.
He went over to his liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that he had gotten from Jack on his birthday. Race didn’t drink much, but he needed an escape from everything right now. He opened the bottle and brought it to his lips. Before he knew it, the entire bottle was gone and Race walked around his small apartment, tipsy as ever.
He collapsed on the couch, and held his blanket close as numb tears fell from his eyes. He didn’t even hear the door open.
“Racer, what the hell?? Why are you-” he noticed the beat up and broken look on Race’s face, and suddenly everything clicked. “Baby, what happened?”
Baby
Spot was home
And Race was beat up, drunk, and broken on the couch
Race let out a low, broken chuckle. “Hiya spotty.”
“Race, baby, you gotta tell me what happened.”
“Whatever do you mean? I’m fine. Just peachy.” Race started to laugh. Spot sat down next to him, and Race’s laughs turned into loud, aggravating sobs and cries. “Make it stop.. Make it go away.. Please, Spot…” Race fell into Spot's shoulder and cried louder than he had ever cried before.
“Tony… it’s okay baby. Let it all out,” Spot was heartbroken, he had seen Race cry before, but this was a whole new level. Race had completely broken, and Spot was here just trying to calm him down. “I can’t do this, I can't do this, I can’t do this,” Race’s words were broken by sobs. He was shaking and sobbing and hurting.
“Nobody is asking you to do anything, love. Just cry. Let it all out. We can talk about it in the morning,” Spot rubbed circles on Race’s back, and carried him to the bed. He laid down with Race in his arms, and left soft kisses on his forehead. Once Race had stopped crying, he had already fallen asleep. Spot left one more soft kiss on Race’s forehead, and slowly got out of the bed. He cleaned up the apartment, and climbed back into the bed and held Race in his arms as they slept. Sure, Spot was curious what happened. But he would never pressure Race to tell him anything, especially after the hard night that he just had. All he cared about was the fact that his boyfriend was home, safe in his arms.