Throughout It All

21 | Everything Will Change | September 12, 1918

Okay, kind of ominous title. I promise we start out fine.

It just kind of goes down hill at some point.

But we are still in the transition/exposition phase, so there's nothing too bad yet.

Also sorry for not introducing a concept in Part 1 of this story that is historically accurate but I'm springing it on you now.

Ready for some fluff before the angst?

Enjoy! :)

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Race swings through the air gracefully on the trapeze, in his happy place, high above the ground and all the other problems in the world. He makes it to the other platform, breathing heavily, adrenaline running. 

Down below him, Spot claps wildly.

Race grins. Down below him, smiling and clapping, is his other happy place.

He'll never get tired of Spot watching his practices adoringly.

Race begins to climb down. It's the end of the day; it's time to go home.

And Spot's here to walk him home.

"You know, if you missed the circus that much, you could always join this one," Race tells him. Ever since Spot quit his circus and found a new job, Race has been trying to get Spot to rejoin the circus.

Spot huffs good naturedly. "No, that's okay."

"Is this just because it's the Ringling Brothers?" 

"Maybe."

"It is!"

"Okay, maybe you're right," Spot chuckles. "But I'm okay with the job I have right now."

"Whatever you say."

Spot grabs Race's hand. "I'm glad you aren't a part of the traveling circus."

Race squeezes his hand. "Me too." Not only does he like the people he performs with, he's glad that it means he can live with Spot and the others.

"Mush is making his special dinner tonight," Spot says.

"Pane?"

"Yes, but he's making more than just bread."

"Oh come on! Bread could be the whole meal!"

"Race, I know the Italian in you loves bread, but you gotta have more food than just bread."

"Ho bisogno di pane, e solo pane."

"Whatever you say."

And so their banter continues as they continue walking home.

Jack and David each got home from work just a little before Spot and Race do.

"Dinner's ready!" Mush calls from the kitchen. "Tell David to move the mail off the table!"

Jack chuckles. Even without looking, Mush knows that when David brought home the mail, he put it all on the table. David huffs indignantly, trying to find words to defend himself, then sighs when he comes up with nothing.

"I thought mail was important," he grumbles under his breath as he moves the mail off the table and onto a chair in the living room.

"Yeah, but you know how Mush is about dinner," Jack still can't help smiling, and it takes all his might not to laugh.