Laces — or Térèse De La Guerra, as she'd been christened — had once thought herself to be the luckiest girl in the world.

Back then, there'd been Brock. There had been promises built on the lie that they just might live to have a happy ending. To him, she'd been a queen, and he, her king. They had been royalty.

Until they'd fallen.

Finch was the one who had told her about Brock's death. She'd been one of the first to know. That day, they had been rescuing Finch and Lane from the Refuge. Finch had been the one to find the body. She hadn't expected that to be their last day together.

And then, afterwards, The Unknowns. While Laces was still grieving, and trying to figure out what exactly had happened to Brock, other newsie leaders began dropping like flies. This was the position she, herself, had been promoted to, so it was no surprise that this was the last place she'd wanted to be. But Brock had been the one to appoint her as his second in command, and she hadn't wanted to let him down.

When Lane had entered the picture, she'd been furious. Lane had been one of the kids Flushing helped to get out of the Refuge. Sure, it had been Finch, too, but she'd known Finch for years. Lane, however, was new to their world, and even more than this, a Delancey.

In what world did a newsie fall for a Delancey?

That wasn't all.

Soon after, Laces began getting suspicious of Lane. She didn't understand how it could've been a coincidence that something so centered around the girl could end with her lover killed. When they got her and Finch out of the Refuge, Brock had been murdered while no one was the wiser. She didn't think it was unreasonable to think that Lane had purposely attracted attention to herself to divert it from Brock. And so Laces' investigation began.

She met again with Frisks, who, at the time, was on her side. The girl told her past stories of Lane, horid, horid stories that hardened Laces' heart even further against the redhead. But when Domino joined Lane's side — or however that situation had played out  — Laces began to reconsider things. And so when Lane and Racetrack Higgins had found themselves inside the Refuge yet again, she'd finally come to the conclusion that Lane was not at fault for Brock's death.

Long story short, she got them out, was reunited with her brother whom she may or may not have left for dead, and, a few weeks later... kissed Race for the first time.

"He wasn't a stranger," she muttered to herself, stalking the streets in search of a new customer.

It was true—he wasn't. But she hadn't known him as intimately as that before. Soon after the Refuge incident, when Domino had gotten him to gamble for her old laces, something had brewed within Laces. Something she hadn't felt since Brock's death, months before.

And she hated it.

Domino's mother had been imprisoned.

Soon after Kyle Delancey's death, the bulls received evidence of the woman's affiliation with his secret organisation, The Unknowns. From what she'd heard, the woman had gone back to Saint Patrick's cathedral to collect her daughter's lifeless body. Yet she hadn't been quick enough, thus landing her in jail.

Domino, on the other hand, received a funeral. Her mother had pleaded for one, and she'd been permitted only to attend the funeral, and even so, had been forced to stand at the back with a police officer.

Laces, too, had been in attendance.

Brock hadn't received a service, only a hasty burial. She was glad that at least one of her dearest friends' lives had been celebrated. Though she hadn't been in the mood to celebrate much of anything for the past few months.

Laces sighed, wandering through the graveyard. The air around held a perpetual gloom, as though even the sun recognized the sombreness that resided on the land. She hadn't noticed how desolate it all seemed until then. Until she'd lost her own loved ones.

She didn't realize she'd stopped in front of Domino's grave until the bright red laces caught her attention. Laces blinked, then frowned as the memory of those same shoelaces resurfaced. It was the one that Domino had given her all those years ago, that she'd given back when Race had beaten her. Domino must've given them to a loved one of her own — Specs, most likely, who'd then returned them back to her.

Laces' lip wobbled as the reality set in once more. She sank to her knees, pressing a hand against her knotted stomach. "I shoulda known yer self-sacrificin' attitude woulda cost you yer life one day. But I guess I was a fool ta think you was untouchable, even by death."

The girl beneath the grave remained silent.

"Dey say yer nails was broken when dey found yer body," whispered Laces. "Ya really fought, huh? A fight-ah 'till tha end." She smiled wryly. "I always knew ya had it in you... like you said ta me once."

A gust of wind blew against the nape of her neck, her twin braids doing little to dispel the cold winter air against her skin. The stones in the graveyard seemed to absorb any heat that lingered. It pained Laces to know that Domino had been reduced to nothing more than another one of those lifeless stones.

"You coulda told me yer plans," said Laces. "I woulda gone wit you. I coulda stopped it from happenin'."

Even as she said it, she doubted it was true. When was the last time Laces had managed to do something right? If Domino, of all people, hadn't been able to escape her fate, what help would she have been? But still, Laces wondered what might've become of the girl if she'd had someone else with her during that last fight.

Lane had been the one to tell her that Domino had been killed. Laces found it ironically poetic. This whole thing had begun with the death of Brock, her love, which she found out about through Finch. And it had ended through Lane, giving her news that the last of her friends that had died had been Domino.

"You've gotta forgive me, Dom," said Laces, her voice breaking. "When I was wit Frisks... I didn't know what I was doin'. I thought she was- we was in tha right. I know now how wrong I was. But... I jus missed him so much. Ise sorry dat it clouded my judgement."

Seeing as she was doing little more than talking to herself at this point, she huffed and pulled herself up, brushing the snow and dirt off of her pants. The gesture reminded her of Domino, who'd hated having even a spec of grim on her person. The newises made fun of her for it endlessly, of course. And yet Domino would only smirk and tell them that at least she didn't smell like a zoo.

She'd always been quite effective at getting the last word in.

"Oh, he-ah's a gift." Laces dug into her pockets, pulling out two handfuls of shoelaces. "You can have 'em. I don't really get tha point in collectin' 'em. Not anymore."

She dropped the laces onto the ground. Stared down at them. When her eyes began to burn, she lifted her head and demanded that the tears leave her be. She didn't want to cry.

Not when she had so many people counting on her now.

"We both know you saw me."

Laces stopped walking. Sighed. Turned around to face the owner of that voice. "Maybe dere was a reason I kept walkin'."

Race cocked his head, not moving from his spot. It was late, far too late for either of them to be out. And yet. "Didn't know we was back ta bein' snippy wit each oth-ah."

She refused to look at him. "When I said dat we couldn't let what happened last time happen again, I meant it."

"Did ya?"

Finally, she met his gaze. Bright blue met brown as she stared, trying so, so hard to not fall yet again after she'd only just picked herself back up. "Maybe I didn't. But it don't make it any less true. When we kissed like dat..." She trailed off.

Slowly, gently, Race took her hand and entwined their fingers together. "Dere's no one he-ah ta see," Race whispered.

"Stop," she ordered, but she couldn't make herself sound like she meant this, either. "We can't."

Because of course they couldn't. Laces was still grieving Brock, and even so, this thing, whatever it was, was never supposed to have happened in the first place. Brock had never had much of a liking for Manhattan. Laces thought she might've understood, even if it was for an entirely different reason.

And yet, to her surprise, Race did stop. Just as slowly as he'd approached, he backed away. "Yer wish is my command, m'lady."

Even with the distance between them, Laces felt electrified. Her hand tingled where he'd held it, both fear and anticipation pulsing through her veins. When the silence had grown too heavy, she dared ask:

"Why do you keep comin' back?"

The air seemed to weigh heavier as she awaited his response. He didn't say anything for a long while. And then, just when she was sure he wouldn't say anything at all, he confessed. "I can't seem ta stay away."

And with that, the shadows of the dark concealing them, she grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.

Race didn't freeze. She was sure nothing and no one could take that boy by surprise. Instead, he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, which she responded to by sliding her hand to the back of his head and curling her fingers into the wavy hair at the nape of his neck.

"I hate you," she breathed once they had parted.

"You wouldn't be tha only one," Race replied cheekly.

She scoffed. "No, I expect dat Brock's riotin' from tha grave right now."

Race's gaze darkened, saying nothing as he led her back into the alley on their right, pressing her flush against the wall behind her. She almost regretted the words, until he spoke. "No strings attached, rememb-ah? It don't gotta mean nothin'."

"Even when it does," she murmured.

Race's lips pursed, before he nodded. "Even when it does."

And then he kissed her again.

This time, she allowed him to take the lead. His hands cupped her face, and his foot hooked around hers and pulled her in so that their bodies were closer, closer...

She only pulled away when she felt Race taking her hand in his once more, and placing something... or multiple somethings... into it. When she glanced down to see what it was, she frowned.

"Why're tha shoelaces I put at Dom's grave in my hand?"

"'Cause I knew dey belonged ta you."

"Dat don't explain why ya took 'em."

Race crossed his arms. The only evidence there was that they'd been somewhat engaged in other matters just moments before was the slight swell in his lips. "I know how much you love those laces. If you left 'em dere, dey jus woulda gotten stolen 'n pawned off fa money. I knew dey meant too much ta you ta let dat happen."

Laces had to admit that he was right. She hadn't considered them being stolen, foolish as that was. For some reason, this angered her.  "So why was you at Dom's grave? Stalkin' me?"

"Dom was my friend too, believe it or not," Race snapped. "I don't even know why I both-ah. Shoulda left tha laces where dey was. Maybe it woulda taught you a lesson."

She ached to say that he didn't understand, but she knew there was practically no one who understood more. They'd both lost people. They were both placed in a situation they had no desire to be in. But it still didn't seem to be enough to douse the everlasting tension between them.

"I said nothin' 'bout her bein' yer friend, too," Laces snapped back. "Y'know what? Maybe I shoulda left you 'n Lane ta get yer-selves outta the Refuge. Clearly, you didn't need my help."

Race was quiet for a long moment. "You helpin' us was tha only not-awful memory I have 'a those days," he whispered.

Laces clenched her jaw, balling her hands into fists and cracking the joints. She tried to not look at him. "Dat should be tha memory you hate tha most. Fa days, I did nothin' but watch as dey beat ya."

"It should be," Race agreed, getting closer, "but it ain't."

Fire ignited in her gut. Standing before her was the boy so utterly unlike Brock she wasn't even able to imagine it was him in the blond's place. Standing before her was the boy who should've hated her, too, but didn't. Before her, stood the boy that knew exactly what it was like to suddenly have people counting on you.

It infuriated her how much these things mattered to her.

"Racetrack Higgins," she whispered, "how I despise you."

His eyes shone in the dark. "Why don't you show me jus how much?"

There was intrigue in that question, a wicked sort of mischief. He was taunting her, yet she yearned to take the bait. To pour every last drop of that fury and loathing into his flesh with nothing but her lips and teeth.

And so she did just that.

(2266 words)

Just know that I'm as red as Lane's hair as I'm posting this. Crystal, don't tell Aisling about the make out scenes.

Behold, the first instalment of Laces and Race's journey, post series. I completely get if this one wasn't everything one was hoping for, but it'll build up to bigger things, I promise. Trust the process. But also I do hope it was satisfactory enough for the moment haha.

I'm releasing this today as an gift to a dear reader of mine who started the entire series about a year ago today. I hope you, especially, liked this one!

Final thing: if anyone happened to be curious about the title, or the phrasing 'lips and teeth' that was used towards the end, there's a song by The Crane Wives called Tongues and Teeth that fit Laces and Race quite well at this moment in their relationship. I wasn't willing to go as far as to include tongues in those kisses, hence the change to lips. This being said, I'm still looking for more Lacetrack songs, so if this one shot gave you any song ideas, feel free to let me know!

~ nutcracker645