A/N: It's my BIRTHDAY! And I wrote Sprace for you on my birthday! So because it is not only my birthday but also that of Ryan Lochte, sex personified, leave me some reviews as a present?

I wrote this is a flash of American pride... And I've been watching the Olympics nonstop, mostly due to the fact that almost all the guys are HOT HOT HOT.

Disclaimer: All I want for my birthday is Newsies... Whom I don't own... And Team USA... Whom I guess I sort of do own. But not really.

Light slash, enjoy!


Paulo Higgins burst through the side door into the air conditioned kitchen, rolling up his sleeves to escape the August heat that had licked at him the entire day.

Angelina Higgins bustled around the counter, placing both hands on her husband's face and giving him a kiss.

"How was work today, dear?" Mrs. Higgins asked conversationally.

"Hot," Paulo replied dryly. "My team was complaining and we barely finished the first quarter of the blueprints... I sent everyone home early, which is just as well considering Lochte and Phelps go head to head tonight."

"That's right! We'll have to eat supper in the family room, then, so I can watch the gymnastics and not miss a minute! I just love that Gabby Douglas; what a cute girl."

Mr. Higgins was just about to share his opinion on the Jordan Wieber situation when a pair of voices cut across the kitchen.

"I am RIGHT, Spot, and you damn well know it!"

"Oh, yes, Racetrack, because your judgment has been SO reliable in the past! Tell me, how are your eyebrows holding up?"

"It was ONE TIME. We did that Chem lab one time, over a year ago, you asshole!"

Angelina rolled her eyes.

"They've been at it for hours, I'll tell you," she said, moving back to the oven to check on her lasagna before turning to the counter and chopping vegetables for a salad.

"Oh, yeah? What's the problem?"

"Oh, something about the Olympics. You know how boys can be; just can't agree when it comes to sports."

Paulo Higgins cracked a grin. While he had always been supportive and accepting of his son's homosexuality, he sometimes felt like he had been robbed of part of his fatherhood when it came to masculine matters like wrestling and fishing and sports. Racetrack had no qualms admitting his boredom with matters of the like, despite his obsession with horse racing.

"Maybe I can settle the matter," he declared before pushing open the kitchen door into the family room where Race and Spot were currently occupying opposite corners, shooting angry glares across the room.

"Well, boys, what seems to be the problem?" Mr. Higgins boomed, rubbing his hands together in quite the manly fashion.

"Nothing, Dad," Race replied tensely. "I don't think you'd really be able to help."

"Oh, come on, son! A fresh opinion never hurt anyone!"

"I don't know, Dad..."

Spot smirked. "So, Mr. Higgins, who do you think is cuter: Ryan Lochte or Nathan Adrian?"

Paulo paused before replying easily, "Oh, Lochte for sure. It's those dimples."

Race sputtered wordlessly as Spot let out a triumphant, "HAH!"

Mr. Higgins, sensing his work was finished, exited back to the kitchen before the two boys could make up. His son DID deserve some privacy, after all...

Angelina glared at him from her place behind the salad, but couldn't help smiling. "You just can't let boys be boys, can you?"

Paulo managed to keep a straight face when he told his wife, "It was a matter of American pride, honey. Some things women just can't understand."