The kink!meme. My responses so far
Nov. 12th, 2010 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionIn no particular order:
Guy/Kyle, spanking
It starts by accident. Kilowog asks Guy and Kyle to help with some rookie training. Throw up a few constructs, try to freak out the new blood, the usual. Guy and Kyle agree, and at the end of the afternoon, once all the recruits have stopped getting blocked by yellow, Kyle swats Guy on the ass like they're football players.
"Good game," he says, expecting Guy to take a good-natured swing at him, but Guy's holding very, very still instead. "Guy?" Kyle asks, flying around to look at his face. "You all right?"
"Fine," Guy says, but there's something in his voice, something slightly broken.
Kyle watches the way he turns away from him, so he's mostly looking at Guy's back. There's something about the way that Guy's moving that Kyle can't quite place. It looks familiar, but Kyle's certain he hasn't seen it in a--
Guy has an erection.
But why? Kyle wonders. He knows Guy gets off on fighting (and he's been the lucky recipient of that particular kink more than once), but they hadn't been fighting for real. They'd just be running the recruits through drills. Drills bore Guy more than almost anything. What could they have--
No way. Kyle feels himself grin. No freaking way.
He flies after Guy, sliding an arm around Guy before Guy can fly off. "Hey," he says in a whisper by Guy's ear. "Is that for me?" he drops his arm down a couple of inches, enough that Guy will know he's talking about Guy's erection.
Guy doesn't say anything. The tips of his ears are turning bright pink. Kyle kisses behind his ear. "Never known you to get off on drills."
"It's not--" Guy bites back the rest of his sentence, tries to slide out of Kyle's grip.
"But I don't think it's the drills," Kyle continues. He lets go of Guy and moves up so he's floating next to him. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, watching the color creep up Guy's face as he gets impatient. Kyle reaches back and swats Guy on the ass again. "I think it's something else."
"Kyle--"
"Five minutes," Kyle tells him. "My place." He flies off before Guy can reply, going into his apartment through an open window. He drops his costume construct and walks into the bedroom, throwing himself on the bed. A minute later, he hears Guy fly through the same window.
"What's the big--"
"Of all the kinks--" Kyle says over him.
"Idea doing that--"
"It doesn't freak me out," Kyle says over him again. "And you seem to like it all right." He smirks when Guy glares at him. Guy's half-hard dick gives him away all too easily. "So if you want..." He trails off on purpose, because he knows Guy is incapable of letting a trailing sentence stay that way.
"It's hard to explain," Guy says, his glare softening. "Everyone thinks it's some sort of daddy issue."
"I don't," Kyle tells him. "I think it's something you like."
"And you--"
"Hell, yes, I am," Kyle assures him. "Given how quickly you can get me going most of the time, I am totally going to exploit this."
Guy grins. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Get over here." Kyle watches Guy slide up the bed to him. Guy plants his forearms on either side of Kyle's head. Kyle slides his left arm around Guy's ribs. He lifts his right arm and slaps Guy on one ass cheek with the flat of his palm. Guy grunts. "Like that?" Kyle asks.
"Yeah, like that." Guy agrees, and he presses his face against Kyle's neck when Kyle does it again.
Guy/Kyle, John, Hal - gen - someone asks why Guy's ring is always glowing, even when he's not using it.
Occasionally, they all end up on the same planet. Most of the time its Oa, but sometimes its Earth, and on very rare occasions, the four of them convene on a completely random planet for completely different reasons. In this case, Guy and Kyle are trying to have a vacation, Hal's following a lead on an intergalactic smuggler, and John is lecturing on Earth architecture at one of the universities.
They have dinner at a place that somewhat resembles a seafood restaurant, though the closest thing to shellfish comes encased in a metal exoskeleten that requires a drill to get through. Or, if you're Guy, a particularly large set of construct pliers.
"Everyone else is using the drill," Hal points out to him as he places his along the soldered seam of the creature. "But not you."
"Nope," Guy agrees. The exoskeleton cracks under the power of his ring, and he pulls back the construct, pulling the meat of the animal out with his fingers. "I go with what works."
John, who's drill keeps slipping off the shell, eyes Guy and his pile of sort-of-lobster. "He's got the right idea," he says to Hal.
"You're not—" Hal sighs when John constructs his own pliers. "You're cheating," he tells John. He turns to Kyle for support, but Kyle's got one of his overly-detailed contraptions going. "You know, Dr. Seuss's widow could sue you for that thing."
"What?" Kyle asks, looking up, the bucket construct for the juice of the sort-of-lobster growing before the juice can overflow. "Why are you using the drill? We have rings, you know."
Hal repositions his drill, and presses it on again. There's a crack, and the shell splits perfectly down the middle, the bright purple meat of the sort-of-lobster steaming in welcome. "Because that's how they do it here," he says. "It's a harmless bit of assimilation."
John holds up his left hand, a small slash of blood showing in the web between his thumb and finger. "Yes, harmless."
"You know what I mean."
"Tradition's stupid," Guy says around a mouthful of meat. He swallows and wipes his mouth with his napkin. "It's a way for people to get all freaked out for no reason."
"Says the guy in the homosexual relationship," Kyle teases.
"That's exactly my point," Guy replies. "I mean, c'mon, there's people freaking out all the time because you and me like to get naked—"
"Stop." John and Hal order in unison.
Guy raises his eyebrows. "What? I can't talk about my relationship in front of the two of you? Not traditional enough?"
John laughs while Hal scowls. "Yes," he says, but the grin on his face gives him away. "I find it horribly disturbing. What with all those alien women you could meet, you could still settle down."
"Yeah," Kyle scoffs. "That'll happen. His damn ring never turns off. You think he's going to settle down?"
Hal and John look at Guy's ring. He isn't making any constructs, but it still glows bright on his finger. They look down at their own rings, then over at Kyle, who's kind enough to hold up his hand so they can get a good view.
"I never—" John starts to say. "It's always—" Hal begins at the same time. They both stop talking so they won't overrun one another.
Guy glances at his ring, takes another bite of his sort-of-lobster. "So what?" he says. He pauses to chew and swallow. "It's always done that."
"Doesn't it drain?" Hal asks.
Guy shakes his head, takes a drink of his beer. "Nah. Why? Does yours?"
"I haven't tried it," Hal admits. He looks at John. John shakes his head. "Are you doing it on purpose?"
"Aww, c'mon. I'm not that much of a show off."
John puts a hand on Hal's arm before he can reply. "So, it just does that?" he asks. "Just glows all the time?"
Guy rolls his eyes, obviously over the conversation. "Yes, Dad. And it sparkles real pretty when I turn off the lights at night."
"Actually it does," Kyle says. "When you go to sleep, it dims out and kind of…glitters."
"My ring does not glitter."
Kyle rolls his eyes and pokes at Guy's shoulder. "You know what I mean."
"Huh," Hal says, and he and John exchange a look before changing the subject entirely.
*
They say goodbye to Kyle and Guy at their hotel, walking beyond it to where John's staying. He'd offered Hal the second bedroom at his apartment when he'd heard he be on the planet for work.
"It glows," Hal says as they walk down the street. He looks up at the stars, fascinated like always that they're not the ones he's used to. "It glows by accident."
"You know what this means, right?" John waits for Hal to look away from the sky and at him, eyebrows up in a question. "It means, if he really wanted to, he could probably kick your ass. And my ass. And everyone's ass."
"You think he knows?" Hal asks. "You think he has any idea the kind of power he has?"
"I'm not asking," John tells him. "Even if he doesn't go full-on crazy evil from it, he'll be insufferable."
Hal laughs at that. "God. No kidding."
*
In their room, Guy looks at his ring. "You think it means anything?" he asks Kyle. "Hal and John seemed kind of creeped."
"Eh," Kyle replies, pulling off his shirt. "You like a fight. Makes sense your ring is always ready for one."
Guy shifts his hand back and forth, watching his ring pulse slowly with his heartbeat. "Yeah, that's true." He looks up as Kyle takes off his pants. His heartbeat picks up, and the glow and dim of his ring picks up with it. "But right now, I'm not thinking about a fight."
"I dunno," Kyle says, walking backwards towards the bathroom. "The way you have sex sometimes—" Is as far as he gets before Guy's crowded up against him, shedding clothes behind him and pushing him towards the bathroom. He laughs into Guy's kiss, as he tries to start the shower. Between them, Guy's ring glows bright.
Guy, Kyle, previous Kyle/Dick Grayson, Guy dealing with his boyfriend having dated the merry-go-round of the DCU.
"Dick." Guy says, the 'k' coming out extra-hard as he waved his beer bottle over the collection of his other beer bottles. "Dick fucking Grayson."
Hal leans back as the beer bottle comes dangerously close to hitting him in the jaw. "Guy--"
"Fuckin' bats," Guy continues. "Fuckin' everywhere. Should get an exterminator." He swigs from his beer and points a finger at Hal. "You're an asshole--"
"Hey!"
"But you're not a total douche, you know? But Grayson, with his fucking...hair and his fucking--hair! He had a fucking mullet! For like, ten years! And--"
"Guy!" Hal shouts to stop him from continuing. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
Guy looks at him, eyes glassy from alcohol. "Dick. Grayson."
"Yeah, I got that." Hal reaches out and chances touching Guy's arm to anchor him to the moment. It says something to Guy's level of inebriation that he allows it. "You've got a grudge. I don't know why."
Guy squints at him. He closes one eye. He opens that eye and closes the other. "Dick...Dick..." His head lolls to one side when he blinks. "'Cause he dated Kyle, and he's...hair..."
Hal shakes his head, still completely unsure what's going on. "Okay," he says slowly, "Dick and Kyle dated. And that bothers you."
"Course it fucking bothers me!" Guy throws out his arms wide, and his beer bottle goes flying. Hal forms up a giant baseball mitt to catch it before it smacks another Lantern in the head. Good thing they're on Oa, he thinks. And in Guy's bar. The chances of anyone taking offense is minimal.
"Why does it bother you?" Hal asks. "I know you and Kyle are--"
"He's my boyfriend." Guy declares, thumping his hand on the table. "And Dick fucking--"
"Boyfriend?!" Hal nearly yells. "When the hell--"
"A couple of months ago," Kyle says, walking up to the table and looking down at Guy, who is looking up at Kyle with what Hal can only describe as adoration. "You said it was cool," Kyle says to Guy. "You said you could deal."
"I am dealing!" Guy sweeps an arm in front of him, and most of his empties go rolling to the floor. Hal constructs an air mattress to catch them all.
"Drinking yourself into a stupor is not dealing. It's being a dumbass."
"I'm--"
"Guy," Kyle says, and Hal is impressed that it actually causes Guy to sit a little straighter. "You're drowning your sorrows and confiding in Hal."
"Hey!" Hal yells, but Kyle and Guy both ignore him.
"I am not!" Guy insists. "That's--" he squints at Hal again. "Vath?"
"Not even close." Kyle grabs Guy's forearm and yanks him to his feet, planting his feet so Guy doesn't overbalance them. "C'mon. We're going home."
Guy presses against Kyle. "Wanna fuck?"
"At home." Kyle glances at Hal. "Sorry you had to see this."
"Scotch?" Hal asks, standing up from the table.
"We've got 12-year-old behind the bar. Tell the bartender I okayed a tab on me."
"Appreciate it." Hal claps Kyle on the shoulder and walks to the bar, refusing to look back. He already knows entirely too much, and god only knows what Guy could do in the few seconds it'll take Kyle to get him out of the bar.
"Mullet!" Guy yells, and Hal nearly trips onto a stool. "Scotch!" he orders. "Whatever's closest."
Guy/Kyle, spontaneous first kiss
I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.
It's all Guy can think as he circles the edge of the battle looking for anyone who might need help. There's blood seeping sluggishly somewhere under his jacket, but he can't think about it right now. He's alive. He's not light-headed. He hurts, but it's distant, with the buzz in his ears that tells him he's still hopped on adrenaline.
"Guy!"
Guy wheels around at the call and zeroes in on Kyle amongst the crowd of fliers. He's staring at Guy, eyes huge, and there's something dark and wet-looking sliding down the side of his face. He's flying towards Kyle immediately, so fast he bounces of Superman and only feels it in a twinge that he knows will hurt like hell later. He stops short of Kyle, skidding in mid-air like a cartoon character, and he reaches out to touch Kyle's head.
"It's not--" Kyle starts to say, and then he presses his mouth closed. "I'm okay," he adds after a second.
The dark, dripping stuff, on closer inspection, is blood, and it's all mixed up with gray matter. Someone's brains got blown out all across Kyle's face. Guy wipes at the gore and wipes it on his pant leg, tilting Kyle's head up for a better look.
"I'm fine," Kyle says, but his eyes are bright and scared, and one of his hands twists in Guy's lapel. "Guy?" he asks, and he tries to pull away, but Guy doesn't relent his grip. "Guy, man, I think you're bleeding."
"I am," Guy says, but he still doesn't let Kyle back away. He cradles Kyle's face in both hands and feels for bumps and cuts. "Kyle--"
"Guy. Bleeding. You. We need--"
"Shut up," Guy orders. He doesn't care that he's bleeding. He knows it's not serious. But someone's brains were all over Kyle's face, and the only trajectories that make that possible put Kyle almost directly behind whoever got their brains blown out. Jesus Christ, Guy wonders, how close are they going to have to keep coming to killing themselves before he stops being a fucking wuss and goes for it?
He opens his mouth to ask the question, and Kyle slides his tongue in, flickering over Guy's teeth. One of Kyle's hands wraps around the back of his head, wraps in the short hair at the back of his neck, and maneuvers him to kiss him deeper.
When the hell did they start kissing? Guy waits for Kyle to answer him, but Kyle's floating them somewhere, and then Guy's back is flush against a building, and Kyle's hands curl at his waist, and Kyle's chest is pressing against his, and god, he's warm. He's warm, and he's smiling against Guy's mouth, and when Guy opens his eyes, he can see Kyle's eyelashes from two inches away.
Kyle's the one to pull away from the kiss. He stays in close, though, his breath warm against Guy's cheek. "This is new," he says, but he sounds like he's holding back a laugh.
"Not really," Guy admits. He watches Kyle back away a little and wonders how to play it. Laugh it off as stress? Change the subject to make clear they don't have to talk about it?
"God," Kyle mutters, and then he's crowding Guy against the building again. "Your shoulder okay? I saw you bounce of Superman."
Guy rotates his shoulder, grimaces a little when it pulls. "Think I strained something."
"Lucky you didn't pop it out of the socket." Kyle rubs Guy's shoulder, then smooths his hand down Guy's arm. "New," he says, "but not bad."
"Oh," Guy replies as Kyle starts undoing his belt. "That's good." He leans his head against the wall as Kyle pulls his jacket out of his pants. "There are a bunch of people around," he says.
"Including EMTs," Kyle says. "Which is good, because I think that's gonna need stitches." He presses his fingers to the still bleeding cut on Guy's stomach. Guy flinches. "Easy," Kyle says near his ear. "We'll get you patched up, and then we'll go home, okay?"
"Yeah," Guy says, letting Kyle take his weight as they float to the ground. "Sounds good."
"And," Kyle says slowly as they walk to the EMTs, "we can write it off as a stress reaction if you want."
"No. I do not want." Guy replies. "Even if you want--"
"I don't." Kyle assures him. "I am totally okay with what we just did."
As they walk around a throng of civilians, Guy feels himself laugh. "How about that we did it up in the air where a lot of people probably saw us?"
Kyle stops short for just a second. "Crap." He says, and he tightens his hold on Guy when laughing makes him double over in pain. "It's already done," he says. "Guess I'll have to admit to it."
"Guess so," Guy gasps, and he lets Kyle lower him to the curb. And he lets Kyle help lean him back so an EMT can get a look at the wound. And he lets Kyle poke him hard between the shoulder blades when Superman comes over and offers congratulations.
Kyle, Guy, John, Hal, Gen, Prompt: Most people forget Guy was a teacher... Until he does stuff like this and reminds them.
"All right, rugrats, line up!" Guy sends a construct out of his ring--a rope with numerous loops woven into the sides. "Everyone grab hold, all right?" He points at the kid at the front of the line. "You're number one." He points to the kid behind the first kid. "You're number two." He continues down the line numbering all the kids and assigning them a buddy. "You lose your buddy, yell," Guy says. "Can you all yell?"
The kids mumble a little, looking at each other or down at their shoes, or at the rope.
"I said," Guy says, "can you yell?" The kids stay quiet. "Well, this is embarrassing. You guys show up, get to watch superheroes, and you can't yell?"
"I can yell!" One little girl says.
"Well, maybe you can, but I don't think anyone else can." Guy looks up and down the line. He holds up one hand. "On the count of three, let me hear you yell, okay?" He waits for the kids to nod. "All right. One." He holds up one finger. "Two." He holds up a second finger. He pauses and looks up and down the line again. The kids are squirming, flexing their hands on the rope. "Three."
The combined yelling of a dozen kindergartners is tremendous. Floating above them, Hal and John and Kyle wince. Down on the ground, Guy laughs and applauds for them, then starts to lead them away from the smoldering, tangled wreckage that was their field trip bus.
"I always forget." Hal says.
"Me, too," John admits. "Did you know it was special ed kids, too?"
Hal blinks. "Yeah," he says, and he sounds downright awed. "I forget that, too. It's just...it doesn't fit."
"You guys should come to Oa more often," Kyle tells them, not unkindly. "He bitches about helping Kilowog with the rookies, but he works with them one-on-one all the time. Especially the scared ones."
"He'd be a principal by now," John says quietly as they watch Guy pile the kids into a construct that looks like a cross between a cat and a bus. "Running around a school full of kids who'd probably think he was the baddest ass principal ever."
Hal and Kyle don't respond. Both of them considering the implications of what John is saying. The time Guy's given to the Corps in place of a career that he--as is evidenced by the smiling, laughing, yelling kids who have forgotten--for the moment--that they were nearly killed by a supervillian--was obviously very good at and downright loved.
Hal clears his throat hard and looks up at the sky. "I've got to get back to Coast City," he says. "I've got to be on base early tomorrow."
John and Kyle say their goodbyes and watch Hal fly off. "You've got a show?" John asks Kyle. "Connor mentioned it when I saw him at the last JLA meeting."
"Yeah. Someone showed some gallery owner the stuff I've been working on, and they've contracted me for a full show."
"Good for you." John claps Kyle on the back. "Get me an invite, all right?"
"I will." Kyle squints into the sunset. "That your building?" he asks, pointing a few blocks over where a structure stands half-finished. "I thought I heard you had a design chosen by the city."
"That's mine," John confirms. "Eco-friendly office building. Never thought I'd design one, but there it is."
Kyle doesn't reply. He looks back down at Guy and the kids. They're all in the cat-bus now, and Guy's at the wheel, yelling something over his shoulder as the bus lifts in the air. The kids squeal in delight, and Kyle notices that Guy flies them east, away from the wreckage and mayhem. He can't think of anything else to say, so he just nods to John and flies in the same direction. He wonders what it's like to be malleable in his life dreams, and he wonders if he'll ever come up with a way to ask Guy to explain how he does it.
And I'm still writing! (And, yes, that last one is gen. Be terrified!)
Guy/Kyle, spanking
It starts by accident. Kilowog asks Guy and Kyle to help with some rookie training. Throw up a few constructs, try to freak out the new blood, the usual. Guy and Kyle agree, and at the end of the afternoon, once all the recruits have stopped getting blocked by yellow, Kyle swats Guy on the ass like they're football players.
"Good game," he says, expecting Guy to take a good-natured swing at him, but Guy's holding very, very still instead. "Guy?" Kyle asks, flying around to look at his face. "You all right?"
"Fine," Guy says, but there's something in his voice, something slightly broken.
Kyle watches the way he turns away from him, so he's mostly looking at Guy's back. There's something about the way that Guy's moving that Kyle can't quite place. It looks familiar, but Kyle's certain he hasn't seen it in a--
Guy has an erection.
But why? Kyle wonders. He knows Guy gets off on fighting (and he's been the lucky recipient of that particular kink more than once), but they hadn't been fighting for real. They'd just be running the recruits through drills. Drills bore Guy more than almost anything. What could they have--
No way. Kyle feels himself grin. No freaking way.
He flies after Guy, sliding an arm around Guy before Guy can fly off. "Hey," he says in a whisper by Guy's ear. "Is that for me?" he drops his arm down a couple of inches, enough that Guy will know he's talking about Guy's erection.
Guy doesn't say anything. The tips of his ears are turning bright pink. Kyle kisses behind his ear. "Never known you to get off on drills."
"It's not--" Guy bites back the rest of his sentence, tries to slide out of Kyle's grip.
"But I don't think it's the drills," Kyle continues. He lets go of Guy and moves up so he's floating next to him. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, watching the color creep up Guy's face as he gets impatient. Kyle reaches back and swats Guy on the ass again. "I think it's something else."
"Kyle--"
"Five minutes," Kyle tells him. "My place." He flies off before Guy can reply, going into his apartment through an open window. He drops his costume construct and walks into the bedroom, throwing himself on the bed. A minute later, he hears Guy fly through the same window.
"What's the big--"
"Of all the kinks--" Kyle says over him.
"Idea doing that--"
"It doesn't freak me out," Kyle says over him again. "And you seem to like it all right." He smirks when Guy glares at him. Guy's half-hard dick gives him away all too easily. "So if you want..." He trails off on purpose, because he knows Guy is incapable of letting a trailing sentence stay that way.
"It's hard to explain," Guy says, his glare softening. "Everyone thinks it's some sort of daddy issue."
"I don't," Kyle tells him. "I think it's something you like."
"And you--"
"Hell, yes, I am," Kyle assures him. "Given how quickly you can get me going most of the time, I am totally going to exploit this."
Guy grins. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Get over here." Kyle watches Guy slide up the bed to him. Guy plants his forearms on either side of Kyle's head. Kyle slides his left arm around Guy's ribs. He lifts his right arm and slaps Guy on one ass cheek with the flat of his palm. Guy grunts. "Like that?" Kyle asks.
"Yeah, like that." Guy agrees, and he presses his face against Kyle's neck when Kyle does it again.
Guy/Kyle, John, Hal - gen - someone asks why Guy's ring is always glowing, even when he's not using it.
Occasionally, they all end up on the same planet. Most of the time its Oa, but sometimes its Earth, and on very rare occasions, the four of them convene on a completely random planet for completely different reasons. In this case, Guy and Kyle are trying to have a vacation, Hal's following a lead on an intergalactic smuggler, and John is lecturing on Earth architecture at one of the universities.
They have dinner at a place that somewhat resembles a seafood restaurant, though the closest thing to shellfish comes encased in a metal exoskeleten that requires a drill to get through. Or, if you're Guy, a particularly large set of construct pliers.
"Everyone else is using the drill," Hal points out to him as he places his along the soldered seam of the creature. "But not you."
"Nope," Guy agrees. The exoskeleton cracks under the power of his ring, and he pulls back the construct, pulling the meat of the animal out with his fingers. "I go with what works."
John, who's drill keeps slipping off the shell, eyes Guy and his pile of sort-of-lobster. "He's got the right idea," he says to Hal.
"You're not—" Hal sighs when John constructs his own pliers. "You're cheating," he tells John. He turns to Kyle for support, but Kyle's got one of his overly-detailed contraptions going. "You know, Dr. Seuss's widow could sue you for that thing."
"What?" Kyle asks, looking up, the bucket construct for the juice of the sort-of-lobster growing before the juice can overflow. "Why are you using the drill? We have rings, you know."
Hal repositions his drill, and presses it on again. There's a crack, and the shell splits perfectly down the middle, the bright purple meat of the sort-of-lobster steaming in welcome. "Because that's how they do it here," he says. "It's a harmless bit of assimilation."
John holds up his left hand, a small slash of blood showing in the web between his thumb and finger. "Yes, harmless."
"You know what I mean."
"Tradition's stupid," Guy says around a mouthful of meat. He swallows and wipes his mouth with his napkin. "It's a way for people to get all freaked out for no reason."
"Says the guy in the homosexual relationship," Kyle teases.
"That's exactly my point," Guy replies. "I mean, c'mon, there's people freaking out all the time because you and me like to get naked—"
"Stop." John and Hal order in unison.
Guy raises his eyebrows. "What? I can't talk about my relationship in front of the two of you? Not traditional enough?"
John laughs while Hal scowls. "Yes," he says, but the grin on his face gives him away. "I find it horribly disturbing. What with all those alien women you could meet, you could still settle down."
"Yeah," Kyle scoffs. "That'll happen. His damn ring never turns off. You think he's going to settle down?"
Hal and John look at Guy's ring. He isn't making any constructs, but it still glows bright on his finger. They look down at their own rings, then over at Kyle, who's kind enough to hold up his hand so they can get a good view.
"I never—" John starts to say. "It's always—" Hal begins at the same time. They both stop talking so they won't overrun one another.
Guy glances at his ring, takes another bite of his sort-of-lobster. "So what?" he says. He pauses to chew and swallow. "It's always done that."
"Doesn't it drain?" Hal asks.
Guy shakes his head, takes a drink of his beer. "Nah. Why? Does yours?"
"I haven't tried it," Hal admits. He looks at John. John shakes his head. "Are you doing it on purpose?"
"Aww, c'mon. I'm not that much of a show off."
John puts a hand on Hal's arm before he can reply. "So, it just does that?" he asks. "Just glows all the time?"
Guy rolls his eyes, obviously over the conversation. "Yes, Dad. And it sparkles real pretty when I turn off the lights at night."
"Actually it does," Kyle says. "When you go to sleep, it dims out and kind of…glitters."
"My ring does not glitter."
Kyle rolls his eyes and pokes at Guy's shoulder. "You know what I mean."
"Huh," Hal says, and he and John exchange a look before changing the subject entirely.
*
They say goodbye to Kyle and Guy at their hotel, walking beyond it to where John's staying. He'd offered Hal the second bedroom at his apartment when he'd heard he be on the planet for work.
"It glows," Hal says as they walk down the street. He looks up at the stars, fascinated like always that they're not the ones he's used to. "It glows by accident."
"You know what this means, right?" John waits for Hal to look away from the sky and at him, eyebrows up in a question. "It means, if he really wanted to, he could probably kick your ass. And my ass. And everyone's ass."
"You think he knows?" Hal asks. "You think he has any idea the kind of power he has?"
"I'm not asking," John tells him. "Even if he doesn't go full-on crazy evil from it, he'll be insufferable."
Hal laughs at that. "God. No kidding."
*
In their room, Guy looks at his ring. "You think it means anything?" he asks Kyle. "Hal and John seemed kind of creeped."
"Eh," Kyle replies, pulling off his shirt. "You like a fight. Makes sense your ring is always ready for one."
Guy shifts his hand back and forth, watching his ring pulse slowly with his heartbeat. "Yeah, that's true." He looks up as Kyle takes off his pants. His heartbeat picks up, and the glow and dim of his ring picks up with it. "But right now, I'm not thinking about a fight."
"I dunno," Kyle says, walking backwards towards the bathroom. "The way you have sex sometimes—" Is as far as he gets before Guy's crowded up against him, shedding clothes behind him and pushing him towards the bathroom. He laughs into Guy's kiss, as he tries to start the shower. Between them, Guy's ring glows bright.
Guy, Kyle, previous Kyle/Dick Grayson, Guy dealing with his boyfriend having dated the merry-go-round of the DCU.
"Dick." Guy says, the 'k' coming out extra-hard as he waved his beer bottle over the collection of his other beer bottles. "Dick fucking Grayson."
Hal leans back as the beer bottle comes dangerously close to hitting him in the jaw. "Guy--"
"Fuckin' bats," Guy continues. "Fuckin' everywhere. Should get an exterminator." He swigs from his beer and points a finger at Hal. "You're an asshole--"
"Hey!"
"But you're not a total douche, you know? But Grayson, with his fucking...hair and his fucking--hair! He had a fucking mullet! For like, ten years! And--"
"Guy!" Hal shouts to stop him from continuing. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
Guy looks at him, eyes glassy from alcohol. "Dick. Grayson."
"Yeah, I got that." Hal reaches out and chances touching Guy's arm to anchor him to the moment. It says something to Guy's level of inebriation that he allows it. "You've got a grudge. I don't know why."
Guy squints at him. He closes one eye. He opens that eye and closes the other. "Dick...Dick..." His head lolls to one side when he blinks. "'Cause he dated Kyle, and he's...hair..."
Hal shakes his head, still completely unsure what's going on. "Okay," he says slowly, "Dick and Kyle dated. And that bothers you."
"Course it fucking bothers me!" Guy throws out his arms wide, and his beer bottle goes flying. Hal forms up a giant baseball mitt to catch it before it smacks another Lantern in the head. Good thing they're on Oa, he thinks. And in Guy's bar. The chances of anyone taking offense is minimal.
"Why does it bother you?" Hal asks. "I know you and Kyle are--"
"He's my boyfriend." Guy declares, thumping his hand on the table. "And Dick fucking--"
"Boyfriend?!" Hal nearly yells. "When the hell--"
"A couple of months ago," Kyle says, walking up to the table and looking down at Guy, who is looking up at Kyle with what Hal can only describe as adoration. "You said it was cool," Kyle says to Guy. "You said you could deal."
"I am dealing!" Guy sweeps an arm in front of him, and most of his empties go rolling to the floor. Hal constructs an air mattress to catch them all.
"Drinking yourself into a stupor is not dealing. It's being a dumbass."
"I'm--"
"Guy," Kyle says, and Hal is impressed that it actually causes Guy to sit a little straighter. "You're drowning your sorrows and confiding in Hal."
"Hey!" Hal yells, but Kyle and Guy both ignore him.
"I am not!" Guy insists. "That's--" he squints at Hal again. "Vath?"
"Not even close." Kyle grabs Guy's forearm and yanks him to his feet, planting his feet so Guy doesn't overbalance them. "C'mon. We're going home."
Guy presses against Kyle. "Wanna fuck?"
"At home." Kyle glances at Hal. "Sorry you had to see this."
"Scotch?" Hal asks, standing up from the table.
"We've got 12-year-old behind the bar. Tell the bartender I okayed a tab on me."
"Appreciate it." Hal claps Kyle on the shoulder and walks to the bar, refusing to look back. He already knows entirely too much, and god only knows what Guy could do in the few seconds it'll take Kyle to get him out of the bar.
"Mullet!" Guy yells, and Hal nearly trips onto a stool. "Scotch!" he orders. "Whatever's closest."
Guy/Kyle, spontaneous first kiss
I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.
It's all Guy can think as he circles the edge of the battle looking for anyone who might need help. There's blood seeping sluggishly somewhere under his jacket, but he can't think about it right now. He's alive. He's not light-headed. He hurts, but it's distant, with the buzz in his ears that tells him he's still hopped on adrenaline.
"Guy!"
Guy wheels around at the call and zeroes in on Kyle amongst the crowd of fliers. He's staring at Guy, eyes huge, and there's something dark and wet-looking sliding down the side of his face. He's flying towards Kyle immediately, so fast he bounces of Superman and only feels it in a twinge that he knows will hurt like hell later. He stops short of Kyle, skidding in mid-air like a cartoon character, and he reaches out to touch Kyle's head.
"It's not--" Kyle starts to say, and then he presses his mouth closed. "I'm okay," he adds after a second.
The dark, dripping stuff, on closer inspection, is blood, and it's all mixed up with gray matter. Someone's brains got blown out all across Kyle's face. Guy wipes at the gore and wipes it on his pant leg, tilting Kyle's head up for a better look.
"I'm fine," Kyle says, but his eyes are bright and scared, and one of his hands twists in Guy's lapel. "Guy?" he asks, and he tries to pull away, but Guy doesn't relent his grip. "Guy, man, I think you're bleeding."
"I am," Guy says, but he still doesn't let Kyle back away. He cradles Kyle's face in both hands and feels for bumps and cuts. "Kyle--"
"Guy. Bleeding. You. We need--"
"Shut up," Guy orders. He doesn't care that he's bleeding. He knows it's not serious. But someone's brains were all over Kyle's face, and the only trajectories that make that possible put Kyle almost directly behind whoever got their brains blown out. Jesus Christ, Guy wonders, how close are they going to have to keep coming to killing themselves before he stops being a fucking wuss and goes for it?
He opens his mouth to ask the question, and Kyle slides his tongue in, flickering over Guy's teeth. One of Kyle's hands wraps around the back of his head, wraps in the short hair at the back of his neck, and maneuvers him to kiss him deeper.
When the hell did they start kissing? Guy waits for Kyle to answer him, but Kyle's floating them somewhere, and then Guy's back is flush against a building, and Kyle's hands curl at his waist, and Kyle's chest is pressing against his, and god, he's warm. He's warm, and he's smiling against Guy's mouth, and when Guy opens his eyes, he can see Kyle's eyelashes from two inches away.
Kyle's the one to pull away from the kiss. He stays in close, though, his breath warm against Guy's cheek. "This is new," he says, but he sounds like he's holding back a laugh.
"Not really," Guy admits. He watches Kyle back away a little and wonders how to play it. Laugh it off as stress? Change the subject to make clear they don't have to talk about it?
"God," Kyle mutters, and then he's crowding Guy against the building again. "Your shoulder okay? I saw you bounce of Superman."
Guy rotates his shoulder, grimaces a little when it pulls. "Think I strained something."
"Lucky you didn't pop it out of the socket." Kyle rubs Guy's shoulder, then smooths his hand down Guy's arm. "New," he says, "but not bad."
"Oh," Guy replies as Kyle starts undoing his belt. "That's good." He leans his head against the wall as Kyle pulls his jacket out of his pants. "There are a bunch of people around," he says.
"Including EMTs," Kyle says. "Which is good, because I think that's gonna need stitches." He presses his fingers to the still bleeding cut on Guy's stomach. Guy flinches. "Easy," Kyle says near his ear. "We'll get you patched up, and then we'll go home, okay?"
"Yeah," Guy says, letting Kyle take his weight as they float to the ground. "Sounds good."
"And," Kyle says slowly as they walk to the EMTs, "we can write it off as a stress reaction if you want."
"No. I do not want." Guy replies. "Even if you want--"
"I don't." Kyle assures him. "I am totally okay with what we just did."
As they walk around a throng of civilians, Guy feels himself laugh. "How about that we did it up in the air where a lot of people probably saw us?"
Kyle stops short for just a second. "Crap." He says, and he tightens his hold on Guy when laughing makes him double over in pain. "It's already done," he says. "Guess I'll have to admit to it."
"Guess so," Guy gasps, and he lets Kyle lower him to the curb. And he lets Kyle help lean him back so an EMT can get a look at the wound. And he lets Kyle poke him hard between the shoulder blades when Superman comes over and offers congratulations.
Kyle, Guy, John, Hal, Gen, Prompt: Most people forget Guy was a teacher... Until he does stuff like this and reminds them.
"All right, rugrats, line up!" Guy sends a construct out of his ring--a rope with numerous loops woven into the sides. "Everyone grab hold, all right?" He points at the kid at the front of the line. "You're number one." He points to the kid behind the first kid. "You're number two." He continues down the line numbering all the kids and assigning them a buddy. "You lose your buddy, yell," Guy says. "Can you all yell?"
The kids mumble a little, looking at each other or down at their shoes, or at the rope.
"I said," Guy says, "can you yell?" The kids stay quiet. "Well, this is embarrassing. You guys show up, get to watch superheroes, and you can't yell?"
"I can yell!" One little girl says.
"Well, maybe you can, but I don't think anyone else can." Guy looks up and down the line. He holds up one hand. "On the count of three, let me hear you yell, okay?" He waits for the kids to nod. "All right. One." He holds up one finger. "Two." He holds up a second finger. He pauses and looks up and down the line again. The kids are squirming, flexing their hands on the rope. "Three."
The combined yelling of a dozen kindergartners is tremendous. Floating above them, Hal and John and Kyle wince. Down on the ground, Guy laughs and applauds for them, then starts to lead them away from the smoldering, tangled wreckage that was their field trip bus.
"I always forget." Hal says.
"Me, too," John admits. "Did you know it was special ed kids, too?"
Hal blinks. "Yeah," he says, and he sounds downright awed. "I forget that, too. It's just...it doesn't fit."
"You guys should come to Oa more often," Kyle tells them, not unkindly. "He bitches about helping Kilowog with the rookies, but he works with them one-on-one all the time. Especially the scared ones."
"He'd be a principal by now," John says quietly as they watch Guy pile the kids into a construct that looks like a cross between a cat and a bus. "Running around a school full of kids who'd probably think he was the baddest ass principal ever."
Hal and Kyle don't respond. Both of them considering the implications of what John is saying. The time Guy's given to the Corps in place of a career that he--as is evidenced by the smiling, laughing, yelling kids who have forgotten--for the moment--that they were nearly killed by a supervillian--was obviously very good at and downright loved.
Hal clears his throat hard and looks up at the sky. "I've got to get back to Coast City," he says. "I've got to be on base early tomorrow."
John and Kyle say their goodbyes and watch Hal fly off. "You've got a show?" John asks Kyle. "Connor mentioned it when I saw him at the last JLA meeting."
"Yeah. Someone showed some gallery owner the stuff I've been working on, and they've contracted me for a full show."
"Good for you." John claps Kyle on the back. "Get me an invite, all right?"
"I will." Kyle squints into the sunset. "That your building?" he asks, pointing a few blocks over where a structure stands half-finished. "I thought I heard you had a design chosen by the city."
"That's mine," John confirms. "Eco-friendly office building. Never thought I'd design one, but there it is."
Kyle doesn't reply. He looks back down at Guy and the kids. They're all in the cat-bus now, and Guy's at the wheel, yelling something over his shoulder as the bus lifts in the air. The kids squeal in delight, and Kyle notices that Guy flies them east, away from the wreckage and mayhem. He can't think of anything else to say, so he just nods to John and flies in the same direction. He wonders what it's like to be malleable in his life dreams, and he wonders if he'll ever come up with a way to ask Guy to explain how he does it.
And I'm still writing! (And, yes, that last one is gen. Be terrified!)
