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Chapter 92 - Spralmer (Spot x Race x Albert x Elmer)

- Chapter 92 - Cigars: Both Good and Bad in the Case of Race (Ha, that Rhymes) -
Warnings: Anxiety, slight argument and anger and stuff
Canon Era
Third Person POV

A/N, this was requested by the wonderful Bubbles070506 . I'm sorry I haven't posted in this book for a while, writer's block sucks and I don't have ideas for a part 2 to the Almer chapter.

"Spot!" Race whines, reaching up to try to grab the cigar from him.

Spot shakes his head, tossing the cigar to Albert.

Albert catches the cigar.

"They're not good for you." Spot tells Race, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"But I don't even smoke them!" Race exclaims.

"In the past 48 hours, three of them have exploded in your mouth, causing you to throw up." Spot reminds him, his arms crossed. "We're taking them away." He tells him.

Race stares at him. "You can't do that." He states.

Spot raises an eyebrow at him. "I'd like to see you try and stop me." He responds.

Race clenches his fists and grits his teeth.

Seeing how Race was just about to fight his oldest boyfriend, Albert places a hand on his shoulder.

Race looks up at him, still looking mad, but lesser so now.

"Why don't you go hang with El?" Albert suggests with a soft tone.

"Why don't you two mind your own business?" Race snaps back, trying to snatch the cigar out of Albert's hand.

Spot inhales slowly to try to keep himself calm.

Albert forces himself to stay calm. "We're doing this for your own good." He tells him. "These things make you sick." He states.

"I didn't ask you to." Race snaps, glaring at him.

"As your boyfriends, it's our job." Albert responds calmly. "Why don't you go see Elmer? He wasn't in on this, so you shouldn't be mad at him." He informs Race.

Race glares at Albert one last time, before walking off.

Albert sighs deeply.

Later

Elmer runs his hands through Race's hair, a sad look on his face as he looked down at the younger boy. "Can you explain what happened?" He asks softly.

Race chokes back a sob. "They- they took the cigars-" he sobs, covering his mouth with his hand. "He- he knows- that- that it's- it's the only way for- for me to- deal with it." He whimpers quietly. "I want to rip my head off." Race whispers.

Elmer frowns. "Maybe Al forgot?" He offers.

Race just shakes his head, digging it into Elmer's chest as he starts sobbing again.

Elmer's frown deepens. What'd you do, Al? Spot?

A few days later