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perpetual_motionTitle: The Boy from Nowhere (3/?)
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Green Lantern Corps
Pairing: Guy/Kyle
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A day in the life of Guy Gardner, as he tries not to be gay.
Disclaimer: Bullshit and lies, of course.
Author's Notes: Continuing on into the HSAU. Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dcu_freeforall, and I've gone with the prompt "civilian."
Previous Parts: Part One | Part Two
The Boy from Nowhere (3/?)
By Perpetual Motion
Seventh period comes too fast for Guy. He tries to come up with reasons to stay behind in his other classes, but he can't stand Mr. Jordan for the fifty minutes he usually has to deal with him, and he can't think of any legitimate reason to stay behind after sixth-period Chemistry with Ms. Brik. He drags his feet to the gym, but Coach only gives him a cursory glance as he walks to the locker room.
The locker room is noisy, the other guys talking and arguing and horsing around. Guy grabs Isamot by the collar as he goes after Vath for their weekly brawl. "Knock it off," Guy snaps.
"Get off me!" Isamot yells, trying to shake off Guy.
Guy holds him tighter, catches the grateful look from Vath and feels nervous suddenly. He shoves it aside. "What's up with this shit?" he demands and doesn’t realize he's shouting until he sees Isamot flinch. "Why the fuck are you two always after one another?"
"I'm not!" Vath yelps. "I'm trying to stay cool, and he keeps—"
"He stole my fucking girlfriend!" Isamot yells. "Walked up and stole her!"
"A year ago!" Vath responds. "Let it go, man! Fuck! I broke up with her a month ago!"
"Jesus Christ," Guy mutters. "All this shit is over some chick?" Isamot twists in his grip, trying to lay a punch on him. Guy shakes him by the collar. "Dude, she fucking left you. Get over it." He lets go of Isamot with a shove, sends him sprawling to the floor. "Seriously."
The rest of the guys stare at him as Guy opens his locker. He glances over his shoulder, then slams his locker door against the next locker in line to make everyone jump and look away. The locker room empties out as everyone starts to filter up to the gym floor. Guy changes clothes slowly, trying to pull himself back in, wondering what made him grab at Isamot today instead of yesterday. He's ignored it all this time, but there's something about today that's making him do stupid things. Making him do halfway decent things. Making him deal with shit.
"Hey."
Guy looks up from tying his sneakers. Kyle's standing next to him, hands shoved into the pockets of his track pants. Guy thinks about kissing him. "What?" he snaps instead.
"We're playing basketball again," Kyle says like Guy hasn't tried to scare him off. "Can I still be on your team, or are you going to 'phobe out on me?"
"I'm not a 'phobe."
"Right. You're one of the tribe." Kyle matches his sarcasm by throwing off a limp-wristed salute. "As long as you're in a locker room alone with the other queer in school."
"I didn't throw the milk carton at you today," Guy argues. "Tommy took a swing at me because I said I was hanging out with you."
"Neat. We'll get you a medal."
"That's not—"
"If someone asks," Kyle interrupts, "what's your excuse for beating the crap out of that asshole? Because you were defending me and my gayness, or because you're like me?"
Guy opens his mouth and finds he doesn't know how to answer the question. He stares at his sneakers and listens to Kyle shift his weight. "I'm not…I can't…"
"Yeah," Kyle interjects. "Sure." He turns on his heel. "Coach is gonna start yelling if we don't get upstairs."
Guy stays on the bench and listens to Kyle jog up the stairs, listens to the locker room door swing shut. He could just admit it, he thinks. Announce it and get it over it. But.
The locker room door bangs open. "Gardner! Get your butt up here and get on the line for count off!"
"Coming, Coach," Guy mutters, and he pushes himself up, makes himself walk up the stairs, past Coach Kilowog standing in the doorway.
"You and Rayner all right?" Coach asks in an undertone before Guy can start jogging across the floor.
"Sure," Guy replies, and he can feel Coach watching him as he toes up next to Vath.
"Hey," Vath whispers as Coach reminds everyone about the basketball rules. "Thanks for pulling Isamot away. I think he might stop trying to brain me."
"Whatever," Guy mutters. "He's a dumbass."
The period is a blur. Kyle's a team captain, and Guy spends five minutes feeling weirdly left out until Kyle picks him as his fourth choice. Kyle doesn’t say much to him, but he passes Guy the ball and blocks so he can get a shot and yelps in victory when Guy sinks a two-pointer just as Coach yells time.
"Nice," Kyle says and slaps him on the back.
Guy flinches away, squints at Kyle. He wants to ask what his deal is, why he was such an ass in the locker room but so friendly on the floor. He doesn't get a chance to ask. Kyle gets back into his street clothes and out of the locker room in under two minutes. Guy's tempted to follow him, but when he comes up the stairs, Coach Kilowog is there, arms crossed.
"Practice in five, Gardner," he says, voice mild. "Unless you've got other plans."
He's tempted to say that he does, in fact, have plans. Opens his mouth to tell Coach to fuck off and leave him alone, but something catches in his throat, and all he can do is swallow and nod, throw his bag over his shoulder and jog over to the football field.
"Fag lover," Tommy mutters when Guy walks into the field house. Tommy's stripped to the waist, already in his pants and pads, and there's a livid purple bruise on his left side, just above the arch of his lower rib cage.
I did that, Guy thinks. I hit him there. His mouth tastes like metal, and he bends over the water fountain to get a drink, one eye still on Tommy, not trusting the other boy to leave him alone with his back turned.
Tommy says nothing else, just throws on a ratty t-shirt and heads to the field. He's probably been warned, Guy realizes. Coach probably threatened him with even more laps if he acts up.
"Gardner," Coach greets when Guy walks up the sidelines. "You're benched today."
"…the hell?!" Guy shouts. "What'd I do?"
"You hit a teammate."
"That stupid son of a bit—"
"No swearing on my field, Gardner. You know the rules."
Guy glares at him. Coach meets it with an even look. "He took a swing at me first. Because I wouldn't harass a gay guy."
"You still swung back, Gardner. Bench. Now." Coach turns and points a finger at Tommy. "Any smug preening out of you, and you're benched for the next two games. Clear?"
Tommy grits his teeth and rocks back on his heels. "Yes, Coach."
"Get to stretching, boys," Coach says to the crowd at large. He sits on the bench next to Guy as the team starts to line up. "It's school policy, Gardner. Anyone takes a swing at anyone, there have to be repercussions."
Guy doesn't answer. He watches the team stretch, listens to Coach scrawl a few things on his clipboard.
"Were it up to me," Coach continues, "I wouldn't be punishing you. Trying to punch someone as a reactionary answer to attitude is bad. Trying to punch someone because they tried to punch you first is just a proper response to a threat."
Guy works his jaw, clenches his hands into fists. "So?" he finally asks. "What's your point? Am I supposed to be happy because you don't really want to punish me?"
"I want you to know I'm not against you," Coach replies, tone even.
"Did you tell Principal Ganeth about my dad?"
Coach Kilowog stands up, grabs the net bag full of footballs and tosses it to Tommy. "Catching practice first, then we're going to run tackle drills." He sits on the bench again, watches the team start to throw the balls back and forth. "Yes," he says finally, out of the corner of his mouth. "I told you I had to."
Guy stares at the ground, drags his spikes through the dirt and makes tiny furrows. "What'll happen?"
"Principal Ganeth will call Department of Family Services, and someone will probably be sent to your house to check up on things." Coach erases something on his clipboard, writes over the same space. "You play a hard game, Gardner. Even a trained social worker is going to have trouble telling your play bruises from your home bruises." He looks up, raises an eyebrow at Guy. "But I'm sure you're in football for the fun of it."
"Mace played football," Guy hears himself say. He feels detached, like he's ten feet away and eavesdropping. "Dad never slugged Mace. He yelled sometimes, called him some names, but he never hit him. Never…" He breathes in. "He's going to whale on me after someone comes."
"Any place you can hide out?" Coach asks. "Anyone who'll let you stay over who your dad doesn't know?"
"He'll knock me around when I get home."
"I don't know how this all works," Coach tells him. "I don't know who sets up things to get kids out of homes like yours, but I can find out. I can get you an idea of what you're in for."
Guy thinks about that for a moment. "They'll take me away, won't they? From him?"
"If you're honest."
"What about my mom?"
Coach stands up again, walks to the sideline, watches the team throw the balls back and forth. "Spread out!" he hollers. "Let me see some actual yardage between you!" He turns, sits back down. "Maybe," he says to Guy, "Maybe if you're somewhere safe, she'll walk away from him. I don't know, but it's possible."
"I can't leave her there. He'll do worse to her than he's ever done to me. He'll take it all out on her."
"I'll make some calls after practice," Coach says. "Can you wait after?"
"I'll tell him we ran late, that you wanted me to practice my passing."
"Need a note?"
"No. He'll believe me if it's about football."
Coach nods. "All right." He whistles and points downfield to the tackling dummies. The team jogs towards them and starts pulling them forward. "I've got to jump on the other side of those and yell at them," he tells Guy. "Stay put."
"Yeah, Coach," Guy replies. Stay somewhere, he thinks. But where? He usually stayed at Tommy's when his dad's worse than usual, but Tommy's out now, Guy figures.
"Gardner," Coach calls, "round up the practice balls, take them back to the field house."
Guy pulls a face but stands before Coach can threaten him with another day on the bench. He runs through the list of people he knows as he gathers the scattered footballs. The longer he thinks about it, the less options he finds. It's tempting to call in the favor Vath owes him for breaking up the fight, but they barely know one another. No one else who hangs out with Tommy will give him the time of day. Guy pulls the drawstring on the bag, turns to drag it to the field house, and he notices someone on the back row of the bleachers. He squints against the sun. Kid with dark hair, a green shirt, and some huge square thing in his lap.
"Son of a bitch," Guy breathes out. It's Kyle. The square thing is a sketchpad; Guy's sure of it. Guy stares up at him for a few seconds, and Kyle meets his eyes, gives a little wave. Guy's stomach twists, and he points himself towards the field house.
When he walks back out, Coach has the guys running line sprints. Guy sits back on the bench, feels the weird curl of awareness on the back of his neck that means Kyle's staring at him. He doesn't look backwards.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Green Lantern Corps
Pairing: Guy/Kyle
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A day in the life of Guy Gardner, as he tries not to be gay.
Disclaimer: Bullshit and lies, of course.
Author's Notes: Continuing on into the HSAU. Written for the
dcu_freeforall, and I've gone with the prompt "civilian."Previous Parts: Part One | Part Two
The Boy from Nowhere (3/?)
By Perpetual Motion
Seventh period comes too fast for Guy. He tries to come up with reasons to stay behind in his other classes, but he can't stand Mr. Jordan for the fifty minutes he usually has to deal with him, and he can't think of any legitimate reason to stay behind after sixth-period Chemistry with Ms. Brik. He drags his feet to the gym, but Coach only gives him a cursory glance as he walks to the locker room.
The locker room is noisy, the other guys talking and arguing and horsing around. Guy grabs Isamot by the collar as he goes after Vath for their weekly brawl. "Knock it off," Guy snaps.
"Get off me!" Isamot yells, trying to shake off Guy.
Guy holds him tighter, catches the grateful look from Vath and feels nervous suddenly. He shoves it aside. "What's up with this shit?" he demands and doesn’t realize he's shouting until he sees Isamot flinch. "Why the fuck are you two always after one another?"
"I'm not!" Vath yelps. "I'm trying to stay cool, and he keeps—"
"He stole my fucking girlfriend!" Isamot yells. "Walked up and stole her!"
"A year ago!" Vath responds. "Let it go, man! Fuck! I broke up with her a month ago!"
"Jesus Christ," Guy mutters. "All this shit is over some chick?" Isamot twists in his grip, trying to lay a punch on him. Guy shakes him by the collar. "Dude, she fucking left you. Get over it." He lets go of Isamot with a shove, sends him sprawling to the floor. "Seriously."
The rest of the guys stare at him as Guy opens his locker. He glances over his shoulder, then slams his locker door against the next locker in line to make everyone jump and look away. The locker room empties out as everyone starts to filter up to the gym floor. Guy changes clothes slowly, trying to pull himself back in, wondering what made him grab at Isamot today instead of yesterday. He's ignored it all this time, but there's something about today that's making him do stupid things. Making him do halfway decent things. Making him deal with shit.
"Hey."
Guy looks up from tying his sneakers. Kyle's standing next to him, hands shoved into the pockets of his track pants. Guy thinks about kissing him. "What?" he snaps instead.
"We're playing basketball again," Kyle says like Guy hasn't tried to scare him off. "Can I still be on your team, or are you going to 'phobe out on me?"
"I'm not a 'phobe."
"Right. You're one of the tribe." Kyle matches his sarcasm by throwing off a limp-wristed salute. "As long as you're in a locker room alone with the other queer in school."
"I didn't throw the milk carton at you today," Guy argues. "Tommy took a swing at me because I said I was hanging out with you."
"Neat. We'll get you a medal."
"That's not—"
"If someone asks," Kyle interrupts, "what's your excuse for beating the crap out of that asshole? Because you were defending me and my gayness, or because you're like me?"
Guy opens his mouth and finds he doesn't know how to answer the question. He stares at his sneakers and listens to Kyle shift his weight. "I'm not…I can't…"
"Yeah," Kyle interjects. "Sure." He turns on his heel. "Coach is gonna start yelling if we don't get upstairs."
Guy stays on the bench and listens to Kyle jog up the stairs, listens to the locker room door swing shut. He could just admit it, he thinks. Announce it and get it over it. But.
The locker room door bangs open. "Gardner! Get your butt up here and get on the line for count off!"
"Coming, Coach," Guy mutters, and he pushes himself up, makes himself walk up the stairs, past Coach Kilowog standing in the doorway.
"You and Rayner all right?" Coach asks in an undertone before Guy can start jogging across the floor.
"Sure," Guy replies, and he can feel Coach watching him as he toes up next to Vath.
"Hey," Vath whispers as Coach reminds everyone about the basketball rules. "Thanks for pulling Isamot away. I think he might stop trying to brain me."
"Whatever," Guy mutters. "He's a dumbass."
The period is a blur. Kyle's a team captain, and Guy spends five minutes feeling weirdly left out until Kyle picks him as his fourth choice. Kyle doesn’t say much to him, but he passes Guy the ball and blocks so he can get a shot and yelps in victory when Guy sinks a two-pointer just as Coach yells time.
"Nice," Kyle says and slaps him on the back.
Guy flinches away, squints at Kyle. He wants to ask what his deal is, why he was such an ass in the locker room but so friendly on the floor. He doesn't get a chance to ask. Kyle gets back into his street clothes and out of the locker room in under two minutes. Guy's tempted to follow him, but when he comes up the stairs, Coach Kilowog is there, arms crossed.
"Practice in five, Gardner," he says, voice mild. "Unless you've got other plans."
He's tempted to say that he does, in fact, have plans. Opens his mouth to tell Coach to fuck off and leave him alone, but something catches in his throat, and all he can do is swallow and nod, throw his bag over his shoulder and jog over to the football field.
"Fag lover," Tommy mutters when Guy walks into the field house. Tommy's stripped to the waist, already in his pants and pads, and there's a livid purple bruise on his left side, just above the arch of his lower rib cage.
I did that, Guy thinks. I hit him there. His mouth tastes like metal, and he bends over the water fountain to get a drink, one eye still on Tommy, not trusting the other boy to leave him alone with his back turned.
Tommy says nothing else, just throws on a ratty t-shirt and heads to the field. He's probably been warned, Guy realizes. Coach probably threatened him with even more laps if he acts up.
"Gardner," Coach greets when Guy walks up the sidelines. "You're benched today."
"…the hell?!" Guy shouts. "What'd I do?"
"You hit a teammate."
"That stupid son of a bit—"
"No swearing on my field, Gardner. You know the rules."
Guy glares at him. Coach meets it with an even look. "He took a swing at me first. Because I wouldn't harass a gay guy."
"You still swung back, Gardner. Bench. Now." Coach turns and points a finger at Tommy. "Any smug preening out of you, and you're benched for the next two games. Clear?"
Tommy grits his teeth and rocks back on his heels. "Yes, Coach."
"Get to stretching, boys," Coach says to the crowd at large. He sits on the bench next to Guy as the team starts to line up. "It's school policy, Gardner. Anyone takes a swing at anyone, there have to be repercussions."
Guy doesn't answer. He watches the team stretch, listens to Coach scrawl a few things on his clipboard.
"Were it up to me," Coach continues, "I wouldn't be punishing you. Trying to punch someone as a reactionary answer to attitude is bad. Trying to punch someone because they tried to punch you first is just a proper response to a threat."
Guy works his jaw, clenches his hands into fists. "So?" he finally asks. "What's your point? Am I supposed to be happy because you don't really want to punish me?"
"I want you to know I'm not against you," Coach replies, tone even.
"Did you tell Principal Ganeth about my dad?"
Coach Kilowog stands up, grabs the net bag full of footballs and tosses it to Tommy. "Catching practice first, then we're going to run tackle drills." He sits on the bench again, watches the team start to throw the balls back and forth. "Yes," he says finally, out of the corner of his mouth. "I told you I had to."
Guy stares at the ground, drags his spikes through the dirt and makes tiny furrows. "What'll happen?"
"Principal Ganeth will call Department of Family Services, and someone will probably be sent to your house to check up on things." Coach erases something on his clipboard, writes over the same space. "You play a hard game, Gardner. Even a trained social worker is going to have trouble telling your play bruises from your home bruises." He looks up, raises an eyebrow at Guy. "But I'm sure you're in football for the fun of it."
"Mace played football," Guy hears himself say. He feels detached, like he's ten feet away and eavesdropping. "Dad never slugged Mace. He yelled sometimes, called him some names, but he never hit him. Never…" He breathes in. "He's going to whale on me after someone comes."
"Any place you can hide out?" Coach asks. "Anyone who'll let you stay over who your dad doesn't know?"
"He'll knock me around when I get home."
"I don't know how this all works," Coach tells him. "I don't know who sets up things to get kids out of homes like yours, but I can find out. I can get you an idea of what you're in for."
Guy thinks about that for a moment. "They'll take me away, won't they? From him?"
"If you're honest."
"What about my mom?"
Coach stands up again, walks to the sideline, watches the team throw the balls back and forth. "Spread out!" he hollers. "Let me see some actual yardage between you!" He turns, sits back down. "Maybe," he says to Guy, "Maybe if you're somewhere safe, she'll walk away from him. I don't know, but it's possible."
"I can't leave her there. He'll do worse to her than he's ever done to me. He'll take it all out on her."
"I'll make some calls after practice," Coach says. "Can you wait after?"
"I'll tell him we ran late, that you wanted me to practice my passing."
"Need a note?"
"No. He'll believe me if it's about football."
Coach nods. "All right." He whistles and points downfield to the tackling dummies. The team jogs towards them and starts pulling them forward. "I've got to jump on the other side of those and yell at them," he tells Guy. "Stay put."
"Yeah, Coach," Guy replies. Stay somewhere, he thinks. But where? He usually stayed at Tommy's when his dad's worse than usual, but Tommy's out now, Guy figures.
"Gardner," Coach calls, "round up the practice balls, take them back to the field house."
Guy pulls a face but stands before Coach can threaten him with another day on the bench. He runs through the list of people he knows as he gathers the scattered footballs. The longer he thinks about it, the less options he finds. It's tempting to call in the favor Vath owes him for breaking up the fight, but they barely know one another. No one else who hangs out with Tommy will give him the time of day. Guy pulls the drawstring on the bag, turns to drag it to the field house, and he notices someone on the back row of the bleachers. He squints against the sun. Kid with dark hair, a green shirt, and some huge square thing in his lap.
"Son of a bitch," Guy breathes out. It's Kyle. The square thing is a sketchpad; Guy's sure of it. Guy stares up at him for a few seconds, and Kyle meets his eyes, gives a little wave. Guy's stomach twists, and he points himself towards the field house.
When he walks back out, Coach has the guys running line sprints. Guy sits back on the bench, feels the weird curl of awareness on the back of his neck that means Kyle's staring at him. He doesn't look backwards.
