OMIGAWD, LOOK.

Jan 28, 2009 20:46

I wrote fic, AREN'T YOU PROUD?

Title: The Usual Suspects
Fandom: Speed Racer
Pairing: Sparky/Speed
Rating: NC-17 for a BIG LOAD OF SMUT.
Length: 3,650 words
Status: Finished~

Notes: This is a culmination of a load of ideas it's taken me forever to write up. Goddamnit, I love this film. The 'Wesley Styles' I mentioned is a name lifted from the positions board from the Thunderhead race at the start.



Normality is, of course, subjective. To say, then, that normality reigned in the Racer residence is entirely a matter of opinion; it would be far more accurate to state that the Racers’ idea of normality reigned in their residence, especially seeing as their idea of normality involved a small chimpanzee being allocated the same social status as two of their sons at the breakfast table. The heavy smell of calories permeated the air thickly as various persons extracted themselves, dilapidated and grunting monotonously, from sleep.

With a slump and a heady sigh, the eldest son seated himself beside the maple syrup. A comfortably familiar argument emerged involving the post; Speed diverted his eyes from Sparky’s copious (and somewhat judicious) application of the paper to his brother’s head by satiating a creeping appetite with something that was creamy and sticky and would play havoc with his arteries.

Ah, normality.

Of course, if it was normality, this would not be written, you would not be reading it, and it is, therefore, essential that something quite not normal - in this case, quite extraordinary - occurs.

Mom had intervened, as usual, and was extracting useful letters from a mounding pile of leaflets Spritle and Sparky deemed appropriate to throw at each other and make lewd gestures with. “Oh, Sparky. You’ve got a letter.”

Speed reached up to take it. “It’ll be something to do with the car; I’ll take it, don’t worry.” Sparky was staring at it with something close to mild abhorrence.

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Now, Speed. It’s addressed quite clearly to Sparky, so Sparky will take it.” She handed it to his mechanic, who was desperately trying to divert his newfound attention to buttered toast.

All eyes flicked to him.

He opened it with a slight tremor in his hand; Speed watched his eyes skim, widen, skim again, and the letter fluttered onto the tabletop.

“I’ve been offered a job,” he whispered. “Somebody wants me to join their team!”

“Let me see that!” Speed reached over to snatch the letter. “There’s probably a mistake, they probably mean me - ” Sparky withdrew it slightly from Speed’s reach, still staring at it in horror.

“No,” Mom confirmed, reading over Sparky’s shoulder. “It’s definitely for Sparky. It’s got his full name and everything.”

“But - ” Speed stopped, exasperated. “Who would want - ?” He managed to stop himself in time, but the damage of implication was done; he watched in horror as Sparky recoiled, Mom hardened and Spritle glared. He stood in a quick march and locked himself in his bedroom with a slam.

Spritle was reverent with excitement, clinging at his side enthusiastically. “This is so awesome,” he breathed, grabbing onto Sparky’s arm.

“It says there’s a week’s trial,” Mom pointed out, tracing the line with her finger. “Are you going to go?”

Sparky hesitated; his eyes were affixed on Speed’s bedroom door. “I don’t - ”

“It’d be no problem, Sparky,” Pops interjected, slapping him on the shoulder, extracting a small gasp. “Honestly - in fact, I insist.”

“DO IT!” If he could, Sparky got the impression Spritle would have been actually sat on his shoulders and not just scrabbling pathetically on his forearm.

“Alright,” Sparky breathed, but Mom was already pressing the phone into his hand.

Speed was working on the 6 with a particular vehemence that was not helped by the fact the nature of his actions linked irreversibly with the person he was trying hardest not to think about. Speed, therefore, worked himself into a gloomy rut, only accentuated by the presence of various family members though the day, and was therefore miserably irritated by the evening. Trixie was spurned with a single shout and Speed revelled in his isolation, if a tad pathetically.

The late sun sent glimmering ripples across the 6’s bonnet and illuminated Sparky in the doorway. “Mom’s calling for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat something.” Silence, hot and heavy, permeated the air. Sparky shifted uncomfortably against the frame. Speed clamped a spanner between his teeth as if to emphasise his distaste for conversation. “I’ve accepted a trial,” Sparky said quietly, tracing circles in the dust on the workbench. Even without the spanner, Sparky doubted he would have received a reply. “So I’ll be going away for a week.” Speed resolutely clung to his thick silence and so Sparky retreated inside, leaving Speed alone in an echo-filled garage, which reverberated with sound when aforementioned spanner clashed frustratedly into the wall.

Speed lay in bed and listened to him leave.

The click of the latch was such a final sound.

Speed spun onto his other side and feigned sleep.

It was funny how normality disintegrated with absence. When questioned, Speed would not have said Sparky was the key figure in keeping their family ticking over, as it were. He’d probably allocate Mom, or even Pops to that role.

It was the little details he’d missed.

Like…

When Trixie burst in of a morning, crying “Have you seen the papers!?”, they’d all stare at the paper on the table and wonder why it had not been read to them. Speed nearly missed out altogether on Wesley Styles’ abduction, and X’s frantic appearance on his doorstep appeared quite unprecedented until he was asked, confused, “have you not seen the news?”

Or…

When they were sat at home, calm and peaceful and relaxed, no impending races spurring panic into any Racer, and just for a moment they paused and then Mom asked softly, “where’s Spritle?”

Pops looked over slowly. “He should be coming back from school.”

Mom looked aghast. “You’re supposed to be picking him up!”

“No, I’m not! Who normally picks him up?!”

“Sparky,” Speed said quietly to no one as Mom ran in a frantic daze out of the door.

Or, even, just the fact when the day was finished and Speed was exhausted he’d move quietly into the garage and he’d be there, working quietly or singing softly or occasionally both, but they’d stand in a gentle comprehension for a peaceful moment before Speed would leave for bed and Sparky would wish him goodnight.

Speed was sat awkwardly on the sofa when Sparky returned. He’d vetoed picking him up from the ‘port for the simple fact he’d probably melt through the floor with sheer shame for his attitude before Sparky’s departure; he instead perched on the edge of a red expanse, his leg bobbing nervously and his fingers trailing through perfected hair. The door opened with a quiet click echoed by Spritle’s shriek of ecstatic happiness as he stampeded across the floor to bounce in the doorway, which had been revealed to present a Sparky who for once was not laden with bags.

“Hey,” Sparky laughed as Spritle clung to him and Chim-Chim bounced happily to one side. “Did you miss me?”

Spritle leant in conspiratorially. “It’s been awful,” he murmured, nodding significantly, before hugging him again.

“I bet you’re exaggerating,” Sparky laughed as he came inside, pausing when he caught sight of Speed on the couch. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hey,” Speed murmured. He straightened and stood, before pausing clumsily beside the sofa, as if uncertain whether to approach. “Can I… talk to you?”

“Spritle,” Mom said quickly with her powers of divine intervention, “why don’t you carry Sparky’s cases into his room for him?” She held up a hand against his protests. “There’s potential cookies in it for you.” Spritle cried out and buzzed to it, and Mom tactfully retreated, probably to hide in the kitchen.

Sparky paced across, fiddling with an oversized duffel strung unceremoniously across his shoulder. “I - ”

“I’m an asshole,” Speed said quickly, flushing. “And I’m sorry. You totally deserve this… thing,” he gestured randomly, “opportunity, whatever, so really I’m sorry for being such an idiot.” He paused. “You’re an awesome mechanic…” he trailed off. “And a better friend.”

The sound of Spritle retching could be faintly heard from the kitchen, and Speed rolled his eyes.

“No worries,” Sparky said with a smile, holding out his hand with a twinkling grin. “Forget it?”

Speed shook it slowly, smiling. “Forget it.”

The nightmares were the final catalyst.

They were - though a reference to the previous comment is appropriate - a normality. Speed had suffered from them since he was very little; until Casa Cristo he’d gone to Rex; afterwards there was a huge expanse where he did all manner of things embarrassing late at night; and finally, after his faithful mechanic’s appearance he slunk next to Sparky when he overcame a little of the fear and managed to move.

It was, therefore, not a surprise to Sparky to see Speed standing awkwardly in his doorway, still trembling slightly and smiling nervously. Sparky didn’t need to ask; he sat up and nodded slowly, and Speed stumbled over with a gratuitous smile. Kitted out with a special double bed for this very purpose, room was not an issue, and Speed slid comfortably in with a settled sigh. They pulled the sheet over their heads and wriggled beneath it, as was protocol in the situation, and Speed’s eyes caught his gratefully in amongst the soothing blackness.

“Thank you,” he whispered quietly, and Sparky smiled.

It had never been awkward.

Ever.

It was just something that had to be done; Speed wouldn’t sleep, or, worse, have a proper full out panic attack if he was left on his own following a nightmare. Sparky hadn’t even accepted it with a begrudging reluctance; more, a civil duty, a necessity.

Speed looked down and groaned internally.

He was hard.

He felt his breath beginning to come a little more rapidly, ohfuckno, and Sparky was still lying there, perfectly awake with glistening eyes.

Slowly, Sparky leant over and kissed Speed’s forehead.

Speed’s breath hitched.

As a sort of conjoined effort they reached together and kissed, hesitantly; soft and sweet and Speed. They pulled away with an equal hesitance, glancing at each other surreptitiously, dreading a tinge of regret in the others’ respective eyes. With none confirmed they inched closer again, with a press and a push and a flick Speed pressed a little harder, a wriggle of a tongue evoking a whimper on both their parts.

Sparky pressed a nervous hand to Speed’s chest, who sighed and squirmed against it; the former laughed gently, tracing patterns on its surface. Sparky’s leg made a conjoined assault on his own, pressing along it before resting at the top of his thigh, pressing awkwardly but incredibly. A three pronged attack became established when Sparky moved back in to kiss him and pressed his hand lower, all the while edging gently up his leg.

Speed froze.

“Please don’t think,” Sparky gasped, and Speed surrendered.

Sparky took a moment to explore his navel, pressing and sliding with fingers now slippy with sweat. Fully satiated with at least one expanse of skin, Sparky moved further downwards and watched Speed’s eyes as he did.

A tense arc; a soft cry; a long, steady, groan.

“Spa - ”

He put a forced effort into it, lowering to nip at Speed’s neck, eyes fluttering between each hand, unsure of where to rest, one curled and pulling, the other flat and spread, clenching sporadically in the sheets. Speed’s was doing likewise, knotted tight beside him, and occasionally their skin would brush and Speed would gasp. The other was tracing soft lines across Sparky’s back, revealed when his shirt had ridden up gently. Sparky checked Speed’s eyes; glazed and overcome, he whispered “Sparky” softly and he nearly noticed the signs too late, slamming forward to kiss him as Speed’s eyes flew wide and he arced as he came, screaming hard into his mouth.

Speed woke alone, but did not panic.

He dressed - or, at least, dressed in anything that was vaguely decent and not too sticky, bundled a mess of sheets under his arm for washing and hid them in the machine before slinking into a closet. His hair was sodden and he shivered slightly as he stepped into the garage where his mechanic was singing softly to himself.

“Hi,” Sparky said with a smile. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Hey,” Speed replied softly.

They stared at each other a moment, as if afraid the other might recoil on contact, before leaning in and kissing softly.

“BREAKFAST!”

They pulled away and stared at each other.

“I swear, that kid has it in for me,” Speed muttered, and Sparky laughed.

“He’s not all that bad, given a chance.” Their hands brushed briefly before they moved inside, seating themselves in amiable silence.

“Speed spent last night in Sparky’s room,” Spritle said conversationally as Sparky heaped his plate with culinary beauty, causing an overwhelming spillage of the syrup to coincide with a soft choking noise from Speed.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom sighed, looking at him sympathetically. “Did the nightmares come back again?” Speed, fluorescently red, nodded slowly and furiously made sure not to catch Sparky’s eye. “We’re so grateful, Sparky,” she added, and Sparky made a soft strangled noise before nodding slowly and smiling.

“No problem,” he croaked. “Really, no problem.” He glanced at Speed.

Their eyes met.

They simultaneously fled the table.

“We’re going - ” Speed grabbed hold of Sparky’s shirt and dragged him into the 5, still intensely red, and they sat in silence as Speed took a familiar route to the Spritle-dubbed ‘Inspiration Point’.

They arrived, and at that point they looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter.

“Okay, you’re right, that kid is evil.” They shared another look and their laughter intensified, eventually abating and leaving them with the occasional giggle and a permanent smile.

“When do you have to tell them whether you want the job?”

“Tonight,” Sparky said softly, his fingers rubbing against the leather. He looked up. “But I rang thismorning to turn it down.”

Speed’s throat clenched.

“I had a certain revelation,” Sparky whispered, “that I really, really didn’t want to leave where I was,” and leant in and kissed him.

Speed shuddered, trembling, and opened his eyes. “But this could be - ”

“Huge?” Sparky nodded. “But kind of pointless. Besides, the guy was a total asshole.”

Sparky leant in to kiss him again and Speed flushed, pressing a finger against his mouth. “We should check if Spritle’s - ” He gestured behind him at the boot, and Sparky coloured.

“He won’t be,” Sparky said vehemently, leaning in, but Speed halted him again.

“I’m gonna go - ”

“Speed - ” Sparky clamped down on his arm. “He won’t be hiding there, because…”

Speed frowned. “Yes?”

“Because I didn’t tell him to,” he said very, very quietly.

Speed stared.

“When… he hid there… it was because… I told him to.” Sparky’s teeth were clenched, and he blushed a furious maroon.

Speed started to laugh.

Sparky groaned, burying his head into his hands. “Oh, god, don’t ask.”

“Wilson Sparkolemew, you were jealous?”

“Don’t. Ask.”

Speed continued to laugh, leaning back in his seat, exulting in the fantastic colour of Sparky’s face. “Oh, Sparky. You’re an idiot.” Speed leant in again, kissing him softly, and Sparky replied with a hesitant enthusiasm; his hand traced a myriad of patterns across Speed’s chest, before slowly slipping down. “Oh, no,” Speed gasped, writhing as Sparky bit his neck. “We are so not having sex in my car.”

Sparky grinned and glanced at the bonnet. “How about on it?”

Speed, rather too flushed in the act of copulation to refuse anything at that particular moment, whined in the back of his throat.

They shambled victoriously out of the car, scrambling across the bonnet at a moment’s notice, Speed clutching at his own trousers and trying to undo Sparky’s simultaneously, which prompted nothing but a big mess of knots and panicky laughter. There was, eventually, some form of nakedness, which Sparky replied to with a small moan, shimmying further on the car.

Now, the problem was, as much as the two weren’t lacking in enthusiasm car bonnets are just not made for having sex on. (This was something Sparky vowed to remedy in Pops’ next designs.) This meant that the two of them were in a hopeless puddle, forever slipping and sliding, before they were driven into the level of hysteria only associated with sheer desperation and a rather ridiculous situation. Sparky, panting, stared at Speed who, equally out of breath, could nevertheless do little other than look without ending up in a huge sliding mess on the floor.

“Okay. This wasn’t such a great idea,” Sparky breathed.

“If we get back in that car we’re not fucking on my upholstery,” Speed said in a small voice, and Sparky leant in with a smile.

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” he whispered.

Speed looked at him.

“Let’s go home.”

Speed had never driven so fast.

Spritle had tumbled off to school, courtesy of Mom, which left only Pops… Speed scanned a note on the kitchen side. “Gone into town. Supplies. Back at lunch.”

“God, I love your family,” Sparky breathed as he crept up behind him, biting on the back of his neck as he clamped onto his hips.

Speed whimpered. “Sparky,” he gasped. “Sparky.”

“Where, Speed? Table? Bed? Sofa? Oh, god, so many - ” Sparky glanced around helplessly as Speed writhed, moaning pitifully.

“Bed,” he spluttered out eventually. “Bed, bed!”

Sparky actually carried him into the room, dumping him on the bed and wrestling their shoes off, before they slammed together in a big mess of whining and sighing and questing, hot and heady mouths. Speed allocated their clothes most tactfully to a big pile next to a lampshade, smiling at Sparky’s bright red boxers.

“I’d pull them down with my teeth,” he whispered, “but there’s something so interesting up here.” He kissed him angrily, but it had the desired effect - of, again, implication - and Sparky gasped, his eyes rolling, pressing up against him in every sense of the word hard.

“Just get them off,” he muttered breathlessly, and because Speed’s femininity did inspire something of the fairy about him Sparky’s wish was his command and they lay in the puddle on the floor.

Oh.

There was a pause and an unquestionable moment of ‘now what?’

“I could - ” Sparky started, but Speed was biting his lip in that way that meant, oh god, he was deciding, and - Speed took hold of Sparky’s hand and pressed it against his own back, trapping his eyes. “Please,” he said breathlessly, and Sparky was really in no mood to argue.

It became apparent at just a single finger Speed was completely inexperienced; whether from the sheer clamp of muscle or the way his mouth garbled incoherently it was really a matter of adding all the clues. Second finger initiated much of the response of the first, only with a slight more determination; third captured a wince, before a happy, prolonged sigh.

Sparky pushed hard against a nub and Speed screamed.

“No, notyet - ”

“Sparky,” Speed rasped, “Sparky - ”

Sparky shifted on the bed, pushed forwards and closed his eyes.

There was a very long shriek, and they both arced in a terrible lock.

Sparky mouthed helplessly against Speed’s temples, and they both shuddered, unified, locked in a very consuming pleasure.

“Speed,” Sparky whispered, and Speed smiled beatifically.

They relaxed in a long shudder, fingers wrenching most angrily against the sheets, staring at each other with a helplessness that spoke of the fact that movement would undo them but staying still was pure torture.

Speed made the first move; he found something more to push down on, somewhere deeper to drive him, and Sparky spluttered, slumping slightly, torn between hyperventilating and stopping breathing altogether. Speed smiled vindictively up at him, and Sparky simply shimmied his hips and Speed shrieked as he pressed “therejustthere” as Speed so eloquently put it. “Ohmi,” Speed gasped, “Oh - ”

“Please,” Sparky tumbled breathlessly. “Please, Speed, please - ”

Movement, it seemed, was the better option, and they did; Speed’s half wriggles against Sparky’s insistent shoves enticed more than a simple scream, a very long shriek. It was an association of affection, of deep - oh - Sparky clenched Speed’s wrist and they cried once, softly, before Sparky leant in, trembling and kissed him, and they broke together in a long, terrible yell.

Mom beat Pops home, but they both stood at the doorway to the bedroom and regarded the sleeping inhabitants with a smile.

There were a series of progressive thuds, followed by a shout of surprise.

Mom rolled her eyes, busying herself with the drinks, continuing a half-interrupted conversation. “Anyway, I just thought that - ” She placed the drinks down on the table, smoothed her apron and called to Spritle mid-sentence, before turning back to Trixie. “Sorry, as I was saying, I just thought that as you two got on so well last weekend you wouldn’t mind looking after him for a bit this Friday?”

Spritle perked up. “Sweet!” His eyes flickered to Trixie. “Can we go to that chocolate store again? Please?”

Trixie and Mom laughed. “I’m sure it can be arranged.”

Mom rolled her eyes, shouting down the corridor. “Boys, stop having sex in the bathroom, we have a visitor!” She sighed, rolling her eyes and perching at the table. “Honestly,” she muttered, smiling. “More juice?”

“Oh, yes please,” Trixie smiled.

The thuds culminated in a soft moan, and after a relapse of around two minutes of muttering, crashing and running taps Sparky and Speed tumbled out of the bathroom, flushed furiously.

“Hi, Trix,” Speed mumbled, running a hand through his hair and untucking his shirt in the process.

She raised an eyebrow. “Your fly’s undone.”

Speed went violet and turned away. Sparky nodded at her amiably and grabbed a glass of juice from the table. Mom sighed crossly. “Sparky, that was Speed’s.”

Sparky locked eyes with Speed. “I’m sure he won’t mind.” He finished drinking and wiped his mouth languidly.

Speed choked. “Excuse me,” he whispered, and fled. Sparky grinned at them and followed.

Ah, normality.

pairing: sparky/speed, character: sparky, film: speed racer, character: speed racer, fic

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