This is part of a larger continuity of stories. Please consult my profile for the master reading list if you want to read them in order.
Hello! Welcome to an in between part of the Hal/Barry relationship! So, if you've been following this, you've seen pretty much the two extreme ends to their relationship. Here's one of the bits that's an actual change in the dynamic between them (I promise, eventually, this journey will make sense! XD). Enjoy!
Warnings for this chapter include: Dubious consent, injury, implied/referenced cheating, possessive behavior, and dirty talk.
There's a bounce in my step, as obviously satisfied as the grin widening my mouth. There's nothing quite like beating up your nemesis to make a day great, even if he's always a coward and runs off before I can end things. Haven't managed to catch him yet, but it'll happen eventually, and then I'll get to bury my hand in his chest and tear his heart out myself. Oh, that'll be a great day.
The rest of the Syndicate's not so pleased — especially Lantern, who looks even angrier than usual — but I could give about half a shit how their day went. Just because they can't handle their enemies like I can, doesn't mean I should bring myself down to their level. I kicked ass in this fight, and I more than held up my part of our team, and I so deserve this satisfaction.
In fact — I glance sideways at Lantern's sneer — I think I deserve a reward.
Last time was fun; I wonder if I could get him to let me fuck him again? Or maybe, if I just press an advantage far enough and get my fingers in him, he'll be too caught up to stop me. I don't mind sucking him off afterwards, not really. I mean, come on; one threat of teeth and he'd be running the other direction. It's not nearly as powerless an act as people make it seem, especially not with what I can do. Lantern's not stupid enough to think that I'd bluff about using teeth, or stupid enough to think he can get away with anything while I'm down there.
I wonder how many times I could get him to let me fuck him in a single night? Could I fuck him to start with, get him in my mouth or hand to keep him high, and then use a second round to actually finish him off? I'd love to see what Hal looks like coming on my cock, in whatever position. I'd love to hear what he sounds like.
Lantern looks over at me, like he can feel my gaze, and I sharpen my grin a little, just for him. His sneer sets a little more firmly into his face, and he pointedly turns away from me, shoulders drawing in a bit in what's obviously anger. What's up with him? Lantern's usually pretty angry, or at least aggressive and violent, but usually there's some kind of reason behind it. I wasn't paying that much attention to anyone not directly in my way — Reverse is fast, and he's hard to even catch up to if I'm not giving it enough of my focus — but I don't remember seeing or hearing anything specific happen to him. It's not like Star Sapphire was there to piss him off.
Hal's got pretty terrible taste in women; she's a damned hero to start with.
Lantern's jaw clenches as we get into the main common room of the Watchtower, Owlman and Sea King a step ahead of us — everyone else flew back — and then his head drags up to fix on the Owl's back. "Are we done here?" he demands, sounding a few steps beyond pissed off.
Owlman pulls to a stop, which brings me up short too, though Sea King doesn't seem to care. Rich, royal, bastard. The Owl turns back to Lantern, totally unreadable as always, and then gives a single nod. "We're done," he confirms, and Lantern doesn't wait a second longer to turn and leave, heading in the direction of the private rooms. The Owl glances at me, then turns to follow Sea King further into the main base.
Well that's handy.
I head after Lantern, keeping a decent ways behind him for now but tracking him wherever he's heading. Which ends up being his room, and when he opens the door and steps inside I slip easily into speed and dart forward, skidding past the door and getting in beside him before it closes. He jerks, spinning towards where I've stopped — near the center of the small room — and glaring, lips still curled in that sneer.
"Get out," he snarls at me. I reach for the speed force, using just a touch of it to get in front of Lantern without him being able to react.
I curl my hands around his upper arms and let go of the speed, grinning at him and feeling the instinctive tense and pull as he tries to get distance back between us. "Don't you mean 'get off'?" I mock, tightening my grip and not letting him pull back, keeping barely a foot between us. I hear the high pitched noise of his ring activating, and automatically duck under the green fist aimed at my face. It turns, slips into a wall that forces me back a few steps when it shoves forward, and I laugh.
The counter is obvious, and instead of darting around it like I might if we were really fighting I just hit it a dozen different times from different angles, different heights, different places. It shatters, he steps back, and I leap forward through the shards of green energy and get a grip on his upper arms, using my speed to slam him back against the closed door. Faster than he can react I reach down, grabbing his left wrist and then forcing his fist open to interlace my fingers with his right hand, pinning both of the limbs up beside his head.
It's not going to stop him making constructs, but I'll get more warning, and he'll have to try harder.
"Not in the mood to play nice, Lantern?" I ask, shoving my left leg in between his thighs and pushing forward against his hips.
"Not in the mood at all," he snaps, yanking at my grip and clenching down painfully tight on the fingers I have interlaced with his. "Get the fuck out of my room, Quick." Like his refusal means anything to me.
I lean further in, not going near his mouth because I'm pretty sure he'll bite me if I try. I heal, but I'm still not a fan of getting bitten. That's gotta be half of why Lantern does it at all. "I'm sure I can convince you," I say,with another push of my crotch in against his hip, and I can see the shift of muscle past the edge of his mask that's his eyes narrowing, see the clench of teeth that comes with it. His ring activates again, and I take half a glance at the sharp, jagged lines of what look like knives before reaching out to the speed force.
I let go of his left wrist, and bring my arm down and around to smack my elbow into his ribs. Not enough to really give him anything but a bruise to remember it, but it'll be enough to break his concentration, and the construct, before it reaches me.
He jerks way harder than he should at such a simple blow, head tilting back as he gasps and then gives a shout of pain. Then there's bands of green around me and I'm flying through the air, slamming into the opposite wall with enough force to crack the concrete. I fall to the floor, the breath knocked out of me and my shoulder blades aching from the impact. It's nothing but instinct that makes me look up, and focus on Lantern.
He's half collapsed against the door, weight leaning on it and his right arm wrapped around his waist to clutch at his left side, breath coming sharp and fast. "Son of a bitch," he hisses, and then his head snaps towards me as I get to my feet.
What just happened? I didn't hit him that hard. Is he—
I snap forward, crossing the room in barely a second — to him — but staying back a few feet; more distance than I gave him before. "You're hurt," I accuse, question, demand.
"Fuck off, Quick," he snarls, but doesn't straighten up. "I'm not in the mood to fuck so just go away."
He had whatever it is under control before me, right? I didn't see anything that told me he was in pain, not until I hit him in whatever the hell is under his suit. Whatever— I move, grabbing both his wrists and slamming them back against the door next to his hips, fingers tight around the green and black suit that covers him from his neck makes it impossible for me to know how badly he's damaged. I need to know what I just did.
"Show me," I demand, matching his snarl with one of my own.
"Go to hell," he snaps back.
I don't know why, I don't know what possesses me, but I shove forward and seal my mouth over his. I bite at his lips, taste the copper and the blood on my tongue as he makes a violent, angry noise and bites back. His teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I retaliate by releasing his left wrist again and raising it to rake across the side and back of his neck, far enough into his hair that I can grip and pull.
"Show me," I repeat, past his teeth on my lip and into his mouth. I can feel him twitch, can feel his teeth loosen enough for me to pull away, and finally, he gives a small, frustrated noise that I recognize as defeat.
His ring whirs, and I lean back enough to drag my gaze down him and watch him pull the suit away. Not all of it, but a section over his left side fades away into the air, and I pull in a sharp breath. It's mottled black and blue, and his abdomen clenches and shudders as I watch, the muscles contracting in what's gotta be an amazingly painful way.
"You fucking happy now?" His tone is bitter, angry, and yeah, definitely a little pained. "I'm not in the goddamn mood, Quick. Leave me the hell alone."
My hands flex in his hair, against his wrist, and I can't tear my gaze away from his side. Okay, wait, I think I remember running by as Lantern was on the ground from getting thrown, and I thought he was just down from the landing and would be getting up, but he was bent over a large piece of rubble. That matches up with what I can see on him now.
Jesus, that looks painful. I feel pain, sure, but I heal so much faster than normal humans like… like Hal. Take that ring off and Lantern's just a normal guy; no powers, or special skills, or anything. I've seen him hurt before, I've let him fuck me with bruises and scrapes still on him from his last fight, but I've never seen him with anything this nasty. That looks like broken ribs, for god's sake.
"Why the hell haven't you gone to the medical wing, Lantern?" He scowls, suit snapping back into place to cover his skin.
"It's not that bad, and it's not any of your business."
"Not that bad?" I repeat, incredulously. "You're an aggressive jackass, Lantern, but I didn't think you were an idiot. You can walk or I can drag you, but you're getting that treated within about ten minutes. Are we clear?"
I can see the fury in his shoulders, feel it in the twist of his wrist underneath my hand. "Why would it matter to you, Quick?"
I have to search for an answer that I understand, that actually makes any sense. I want him treated and healed because it freaks me out to see him beaten — Lantern, Hal, is strong, and skilled, and hard to hurt — but there's no way in hell I'm saying that out loud. So instead I give him my best grin, letting go of his wrist to stroke up his arm as I tighten my grip in his hair.
"You're no good to me like this, Lantern. How am I supposed to enjoy sex with you when you can't even handle a little play?" He pulls in a sharp, shallow breath, and I push closer and let my thigh push up against his crotch and grind. "The sooner you're fixed the sooner I get to stop pretending to be nice, Hal." His teeth grit, he swallows, and then I can feel and hear him shove out the exhale. "And the sooner I get to pin you down, work you open with my fingers, and fuck you."
He shudders, and then asks, "What makes you think I'll let you do that?"
I let the laugh escape me; low and dark and promising. "Because you want it, Lantern." His jaw clenches tighter, somehow, and I let my grin widen and show him just a little of how much I want this. "No matter how much you snap at me I saw how much you liked it, and no matter how much you deny it you're going to let me do it again. Better this time because now I know how you work." I press tight against him, rub my fingers against the back of his skull, and dare him to, "Tell me you're not, Hal."
"You don't get that without a fight." It's a snarl, and a challenge, and I laugh.
"If I didn't want a fight I'd be bending you over right here, Lantern. We both know you couldn't stop me from taking whatever I wanted, not right now." I avoid his injured side, feeling him twitch and breathe against me, feeling him tense underneath the layer of his uniform. "But I'd much rather find out how loud I can make you shout; maybe even scream. That sounds like fun to me."
His mouth parts, drawing in a breath that shakes a little bit. "Been thinking about that?" he asks, and I think he means it to come out a snarl but it's weaker than that.
Oh, I'm happy to share my thoughts with him. I think it's fantastic how much I can take him down a few notches just by talking about what I want to do to him, and what I know he's going to let me do. There's nothing for me to lose here, and I get to back him down and make him want it. Maybe I can even get him to beg. He'd never lower himself enough to really do it, but a single 'please' would be more than enough for me.
I stroke my hand down his uninjured side, reaching between us and palming at him, and the forced exhale and slight arch are more than enough to satisfy me. I lean closer, pressing my lips up against the side of his neck and then raising my head a bit to speak right into his ear, dropping my voice to a lower octave.
"I've been thinking about how many times I could fuck you in a single night," I tell him, and I can feel him jerk a little bit and bite back some kind of noise by swallowing. "Take my time working you open, getting you worked up until all you'd want is me in you. The first time wouldn't be enough for you, but I could pin you down and keep you right on the edge. You'd never beg, but the challenge is half the fun. When I'm ready I'll come back for that second round; pin your arms against your back and fuck you until you come from just my cock in you." I squeeze down on him, stroking up and then grazing my teeth across the shell of his ear. He makes a quiet, choked, noise that I don't think he meant to let out, and I give another low laugh. "Tell me I'm lying, Hal."
"Damn you," he manages to breathe out, neck arching back.
I can feel him hot and swelling beneath my hand, and then both of his hands are dragging up my back. One wraps around the back of my neck and wrenches me away from his ear, and his mouth is hard against mine. Blood smears between us, and his fingers push and claw at the back of my hood like he wants it to be my hair instead, but isn't willing to pull away enough to make that happen. I push harder against him, and then he's breaking the kiss and making a sharp noise of pain, recoiling against the door.
His head tilts back, teeth gritting together as his breath stutters. "Fuck." He sounds frustrated more than anything, but there's definitely some resignation in there too. "Fine," he spits at me, glaring. "I'll walk." I let go of him and he stiffens, hissing out an exhale that I'm pretty sure is the words, "You bastard."
I smirk, sliding my hand around his neck to grip the front of it just for a second, pinning him back against the door as — I just can't resist — I murmur, "Good boy."
His reaction is instant and violent, but I slip underneath the razor-sharp green blade that swipes at my throat and dance backwards with a laugh. Lantern looks furious, but he's not coming after me. Aggressive, yeah, and an ass most of the time, but he's not dumb. He knows he doesn't want to really fight me right now, not when he's got injuries I can exploit. Oh, I'd love to get him on his knees and at my mercy, but only if he's going to be stupid enough to give me the chance. There's no point in proving I can; we both know he can't beat me right now. But if he tries? Oh, I'll have him on his knees in seconds.
"Don't you fucking dare," he threatens, his teeth baring. "Say that again and I'll make it hurt, Quick."
I jump forward, slamming my hand into the door next to his head and leaning in to get in his face, press tight against him. "You'll try," I correct. "You ready to go, Lantern?" He's glaring, but he jerks his head in a nod and shoves me backwards with his ring-hand to my chest. I let him.
"Keep your hands to yourself," he demands, and I grin.
"Like I don't know the rules. Open the door so we can go, Hal."
"Fuck off, Barry," he counters, but does turn to press the panel to open the door at his back. There's something about hearing my name from him, even when he spits it like an insult, that I just love. Saying his name is like throwing a rope around his neck and watching it tighten, knowing I've got the power to end him any time I want, but seeing my name on his lips just feels like I own him.
More than that bitch, Star Sapphire, or whoever else he's fucked or been fucked by in the past. Lantern is mine. He won't admit it, but that doesn't matter to me. I don't need his permission to know he belongs to me.
I slip out of the room behind him, and he keeps a wary eye on me but just grits his teeth and keeps quiet. I do him the favor of keeping my mouth shut, though I do give him a sharp grin and a mocking extension of my hand to silently say, 'lead the way.' He doesn't want me at his back, and I know that, but I don't care enough to make him comfortable. It's not like I'd actually take advantage; the challenge and the fight really is half the fun, and he can't give me enough of either right now. He doesn't have the bite to back up his bark.
It's actually disappointing. I was looking forward to a good fight and some great sex, and with him hurt I'm not going to get either. Maybe it's not as bad as it looks; maybe I can still get something half-decent out of him. Or find someone else.
I don't want to have to play nice like I would with Iris.
My thoughts sour, and my grin fades as I keep my gaze carefully on Hal's back, keeping pace just a touch behind him.
Iris… I love her, I do, but she's not everything I need. She can't be. I need someone to vent my adrenaline at, someone who can take a few bruises and stand up to me, meet me, fight me. She's got no problem arguing with me, or disagreeing, but she can't push hard enough for it to matter. With her I have to keep myself in check; keep my powers controlled and my touch gentle enough not to hurt her.
But not with Hal. He can take it, he can handle it, and he can come back with just as much violence and anger-fueled passion as I take out on him. He can come back with more.
Except right now.
He tried, but with those ribs he's half crippled. I don't think he's going to be much good until he's healed, unless those bruises are a lot more surface than they look. I'm pretty sure they're not.
Well that's irritating. I'm going to have to find some other way to vent, unless Lantern's going to find some way to keep me satisfied, or give me a challenge, while he's hurt. Could happen, but I don't think it's likely. He's not going to do anything he doesn't want to, and usually anything with a lot of pain is something he doesn't want to do. Outside of a fight, anyway, and even then he'll usually back out of a spar if it gets too painful for his taste.
Who else is going to be interested? More importantly, who else is going to be casual about it? It's not like Lantern and I are doing anything more than fucking, and I don't want anything more than that. Strings are messy, and I've already got one person I'm responsible for keeping happy. I don't need another. I really don't need that 'another' to be Lantern, the aggressive asshole who only maybe loses the prize title of 'biggest asshole on the team' to Ultraman.
I force a grin to my face, and quicken my step a little to come up beside Lantern. He scowls at me, moves a little to the side to keep distance between us, but I follow and don't let him. He gives a brief snarl, and my grin turns natural as I push him a little farther, trapping him between me and the wall with only about half a foot between us.
He is fun to mess with. It doesn't take much to make him snap to violence to get me to back off, but it's never serious enough to actually hurt me if I'm paying even a little attention. It's not like he actually wants me dead, most of the time. In pain, on the other hand? Oh I'm pretty sure he spends a lot of his time wanting to hurt me one way or another. I think usually he just takes that out on me with teeth and too-tight grips, by not holding back, and I'm alright with that.
He never pushes far enough to really hurt, and I heal fast, so whatever.
Lantern's obviously uncomfortable, and I enjoy every second of making him that way. His jaw is tight, hands clenched and shoulders drawn defensively upwards, and he's pointedly not looking at me. It kind of makes me want to make him look at me — slam him up against the wall, or trip him, or any other nasty thing I could do without warning — but I squash the urge down. What's the point of making him look if he can't follow through with anything? It's not like he's going to respond well to any kind of advance; not out here, and not while he's injured. Total waste of my time.
I shouldn't even be escorting Lantern to the medics. Apart from sex — and he's not going to be any good for that anyway — I've got no stake in how well he heals, or how fast. This is a lot of time that I could be using for something else, with not much more than getting to see Lantern uncomfortable and unable to fight back as a reward. Fun, but probably not worth the time.
Why am I even still here? Why am I walking? I could have picked Lantern up and gotten him to the medics a while ago, and he probably wouldn't even have had the reaction speed to do more than maybe clip me. Why the hell haven't I done that?
He'll be pissed, I guess, and I don't know what kind of break his injury is; if it's a break. If I pick him up and jostle him while getting him there, am I going to do more damage and lay him out for a longer time? He's moving just fine, but it looked pretty bad. Why should I care? Why should I waste my effort and my powers carrying Lantern somewhere when I can just enjoy this time instead? All this great time I can press, push, mock, and fuck with him and he can't do a damn thing about it without giving me a reason to take him down.
Yeah, I suppose that's worth the time.
The door to the medical wing slides open when Lantern presses his ring to the panel beside it, and I follow him inside. It's empty, including the AI system robots that Grid runs as medics, except for the gun-metal grey and black armored figure of Owlman. He's in front of one of the control consoles, and doesn't bother looking up when we come in. The door shuts as Hal looks around, then snarls and shoots me a look that's pretty much just straight out fury.
"Where the hell are the 'bots?" he asks, aiming it at the side of Owlman that we can see.
"Maintenance," the Owl answers smoothly, and then actually does pause to look up, and I might be crazy but I think the tilt of his mouth is displeased. "If you'd come by when we arrived, they would still be here. I'll deal with your injuries, Lantern."
Hal snorts, then makes a noise that's somewhere between amused and disbelieving, and is definitely choked off before it finished. "Yeah, I don't think so. I'll come back—"
"Sit," Owlman demands, voice rising a bit to cut through the air, and jesus that tone is one hell of a motivator. I nearly want to just fold up and sit down right where I am, and I can see Lantern cut off, hesitate, swallow, and then move to obey.
He goes farther than he has to, but Owlman's pointed stare and the slight flick of one gauntleted hand to the examination table right next to him might have something to do with it. I follow a few paces back, always, constantly, wary of the Owl, but not enough to keep me from pressing my advantage over Lantern.
Also, I'm not sure I want to leave Hal alone with Owlman. I just… don't.
Owlman turns around, meeting us as Lantern sits down on the edge of the table, near the foot of it. "It's the damage to your side, right?" He doesn't wait for an answer, which only reinforces to me that the Owls are scary as all fuck and know everything. "Remove everything above your waist." Lantern scowls, but does as he's told.
Kind of a first to get to watch that happen. I don't think I've seen anyone order Lantern around like the Owl is doing right now, and live to tell about it. I've never asked — other people don't come up in our fucks that much; mostly just Iris and Star Sapphire — but obviously Lantern is just as freaked out by and wary of Owlman as the rest of us. Which is totally justified.
I mean, the guy's a human. A normal human. No powers, no advanced tech, no handy tools or magical weapons; he's literally just a guy in a costume who happens to be a genius, and could probably take all of the rest of us down before we knew what was happening. Scary thought; scary man.
The ring glows, makes that distinctive noise, and Hal's suit disintegrates from the waist up with the exception of his mask. I stop myself from taking in another sharp breath at the sight of his side, but my jaw tightens a little bit. I don't like other people hurting what belongs to me, I don't like them even touching it. I need to know who did this to him. I need to hurt them for it.
Owlman steps a little closer, pushing Hal's arm away from his side — he glares, but doesn't fight it — and then lowers his hand to trace his fingers across the bruised area. I cross my arms, leaning back against the edge of the closest table to them — only about six feet away — and containing the irrational and totally suicidal desire to smack the Owl's hand away from Lantern. I don't like the way his claws follow the patterns of bruising, indenting Lantern's skin but not quite breaking it, and I don't like the way he's looking at what's mine, studying him.
Hal sucks in a sharp, gasping breath when the Owl prods at one of the darkest bruises, wrenching away and snarling. Lantern probably doesn't see it, but I've got the speed and I can see the tiny flicker of a smirk on the Owl's face before his hand is snapping upwards and wrapping around Hal's throat, jerking his head up.
I snatch at the speed force and lunge forward, coming to the other side of the table and slipping back out of it to shout, "Hey!" in the Owl's face. How dare he?
Owlman ignores me, fingers tightening on Lantern's throat. "My gauntlets aren't designed to mend, Lantern. You will stay still, or I'll cease being careful. Is that understood?"
Lantern sneers, but shifts his head in a nod that pushes against the metal pressed around his neck. Instead of letting go, like I expect him to — like I want him to — the Owl's hand loosens and slips upward, gripping Hal's jaw and sweeping the thumb up to press the end of that claw to Lantern's bottom lip, to the wounds from my teeth. He lingers longer than is even remotely alright — my sense of time can get warped, but I'm not wrong about this — before letting go, and there's something about the way Hal swallows, and doesn't fight a touch that close and possessive, that makes me furious.
Lantern's never this passive; hurt or not he shouldn't be letting the Owl touch him like that.
I bite back the comments on my tongue, but don't step back from my side of the table. If Owlman tries doing that again, I'm stopping him. I don't care what he might try and do to me; I don't like seeing him touch Hal like that, and I won't sit by and watch it happen. I'll risk a fight first, if that's what it takes.
The Owl turns away, still completely ignoring my presence, and throws out the command, "Lie down," over his shoulder.
I can see the anger on his face, see the want to refuse or question, but Lantern's tongue slips out to swipe over his bottom lip, and instead he swallows again and shifts to lie back. What the hell is between them that Lantern doesn't want to even question one of the Owl's orders? Why is Hal letting him do this? Not fighting I get, but not questioning? Not even complaining? I don't remember any kind of serious fight between the two of them; nothing that would have made Hal unwilling to even argue, anyway.
That would have been some serious news.
Does Owlman know something about Lantern that I don't? Did he threaten him somehow? I'm almost jealous that he can make Hal shut up and do what he's told, but not as much jealous as I am pissed off at it. Hal shouldn't bow to anybody; not me and definitely not the Owl.
Lantern shifts further onto the table and then leans back, supporting himself on his arms and wincing as he goes down. Can't be comfortable bending with those kind of injuries, not that I'd really know. Usually when I get hurt bad enough for it to linger I'm also exhausted, and I just crash somewhere safe. There's never been a time that everything wasn't healed by the time I woke up. I remember injuries from before I got my powers, but only kind of vaguely. The most I ever did was crack a bone in my forearm anyway, nothing as serious as Hal's side looks.
Owlman taps a command into the computer, finishing it off by pressing a larger, yellow button, and the examination table hums to life. There's nothing visible, but it sounds like some kind of electronics. I'm not real familiar with the medical wing, honestly. I'm pretty much never in here, and when I am it's for something large and obvious that's stuck in me, and those are pretty much just 'wrench it out and patch over the hole' kind of things. Any kind of stitches is never anything but a pain in the ass; I heal around them after a couple hours.
So I can guess at what this stuff does, but it's not like I actually care about what kind of treatment my so-called allies get. I never bothered learning. Right now it feels like a disadvantage, and I'm not too happy with it. Maybe I could put some time into learning what's in here. Next time I could patch Hal up myself, and not let the Owl anywhere near him.
"You have three cracked ribs, Lantern," Owlman announces, pressing something else to end the humming. "Nothing's broken, and nothing will be as long as you keep your physical activity within reasonable limits."
Normally, I'd make some kind of jackass comment, asking if Owlman had ever actually seen Hal's definition of 'reasonable,' but I really don't feel like mocking him in front of the Owl. Not today.
"Great," Lantern spits, as he sits up. Faster than the time it took for him to lean back, but with the same wince. "So just wrap it and I'll go."
Owlman glances over his shoulder. "You'll need to remove your ring."
I tense about as quickly as Hal does, and my Lantern's mouth immediately curls in a sneer. "Yeah?" he demands, sounding at least a little more aggressive now. That's better. "Why the hell should I do that?"
Owlman turns fully towards the two of us, and flicks a dismissive hand in Hal's direction. "It's the mechanics of your power; you should know them. Anything I apply now won't stay when you return to your civilian form, and vice versa. Unless you want to find yourself suddenly lacking support, and in danger of breaking those ribs, a wrap will need to be put on in both forms. Or don't you know how your own power works, Lantern?" His voice is condescending, a smirk curls his mouth, and I really want to punch the know-it-all bastard.
Hal's teeth grit, and he looks really unhappy with the idea, but he jerks his head in a nod. "Fine. Are there masks in here?"
"There are," Owlman confirms, carelessly, "if you feel the need for one." Hal stiffens, and the Owl slowly raises his head to look at me for the first time. "I don't think that matters, does it, Quick?"
It shouldn't bother me that Owlman knows who Hal is — or maybe he's just implying he does and actually doesn't? — but it really, really, does. Of course I know, even if it was a total accident that I found out, and really, of course Owlman knows. Manipulative, know-it-all, son of a bitch. He probably knows who I am too. He probably knows the name of every villain or hero out there, even if he hasn't said a damn thing to anyone.
Is that why Lantern doesn't fight him? Is Owlman threatening him with some kind of reveal of his identity? Because that's bullshit. Without Hal, the Owl would have to deal with the rest of the Green Lantern Corp, and that whole organization is an invasion waiting to happen. Technically, Hal's supposed to be dominating the planet or something, but mostly he's said that they have so many agents spread out across the universe that they could care less about what one does unless it becomes an actual problem. Their Lantern dying, or getting permanently imprisoned, would be a problem.
I bare my teeth, meeting the Owl head on. "That's not my call," I spit at him. "Why don't you ask Lantern?"
What the hell is this passive aggressive, sideways approach of asking me? I don't get to tell Hal what he can or can't wear, and I've seen him without his mask before but not often. I've never asked him to take it off, or demanded, or even touched the thing more than incidentally. That'd be like touching his ring, which I am not going to do without express invitation or serious need. That crosses a line; it's wrong. You don't fuck with someone's mask, or the source of their power. Not ever.
Lantern jerks my mask off all the time, but that's different. It's part of my suit, it comes off if my costume does, no other way to do that. I've used temporary masks before, with some people, but I never bothered with Hal. He was a little stunned the first time I dropped out of my suit and let him see my face, I remember that, but he got over it pretty quick when I took his distraction as a way to pin him up against the furthest wall. After that, he started pulling my hood back himself, and I never stopped him.
"Not your call?" Owlman says quietly, with just enough condescension that it pisses me off. "But you already make so many decisions for him. That's why he's here, isn't it?" That smirk is on his lips again, and I shift into speed for a moment before shutting it down. I probably blur out for a second to both of them.
"Does he look like a kid to you?" I demand, trying to find anything in his posture that says he's feeling anything but amusement and calm. I can't. "Lantern's right here; how about you talk to him instead of about him?"
Owlman's teeth flash for just a second, and then he gives a small noise of amusement. "My, you are protective aren't you?"
"Enough," Hal snarls, shoving me back with a hand to my shoulder and turning on Owlman. "I'm not some kind of chew toy, and both of you need to back the fuck off. Wrap my fucking ribs, Owlman; I'll take the damn ring off."
I hold Owlman's gaze for a few more seconds — glaring and mentally daring him to start something, even though I know I'd probably lose that fight — before he purposefully turns his head away and looks back down at Lantern. The smirk is smaller, but it's still lingering and I don't like it at all. I hate how entitled and arrogant the Owl is, and how much of a bastard he can be when it suits him. I really despise that he's good enough to back up that attitude.
"Very well," he agrees, smoothly, and pauses just long enough to look back at me before turning away and striding across the room. He heads towards what I have to assume is the metal cabinets that store the supplies, and I tear my gaze away from him to look down at Hal.
Hal, who is just pulling the Green Lantern ring from his finger.
The suit fades off of him in a wave of green energy, disintegrating from his head down as his civilian clothes return. I'm not entirely sure why I do it, but I watch the change go all the way down to his toes — heavy boots, military — before raising my gaze back to his face. Seeing him without his mask is… different. He's watching me, the slightest sneer to his lips and an obvious glint of challenge in his brown eyes, and I meet his look without returning it.
It's different challenging him when he doesn't have that mask on. To me, my mask is just a thing; a part of my suit that goes on and off whenever I choose, but I don't have to ask to know it's not the same for Hal. It's not just the mask, it's the ring. Taking off that ring makes him vulnerable, weaker, and just a regular human. Not that he's not still a threat, because he is. A second and he could call that ring back to his finger and gut anyone who tried to take advantage of him.
So, maybe…
I let a grin twist my lips, and slip back into the way easier feeling of just messing with Lantern like normal. What the hell is different, really? He's still Lantern, he's still Hal, and just because he hasn't got that stupid piece of jewelry on doesn't mean he's suddenly less than he was. It's a big advantage for me, yeah, sure, but it doesn't make him weak. Not even his cracked ribs make him weak.
I shift closer — he sneers a little more — and glance up to make sure Owlman is still across the room before leaning down to speak in Hal's ear. "You know, I don't usually get to see you strip off actual clothes," I say, barely above a breath, and then flick myself back fast enough that I get to catch his reaction.
He starts, surprise bright in his eyes for a second, and then I can see him follow my lead and slide right back into his normal role between us. "Don't get used to it," he counters just as quietly, but with a sharp edge of threat. "I don't do shows."
"What about a private one?" I coax, mock. "We could make some more deals, Lantern. You seemed to like our last one." He reflexively swallows, shudders, and my breath catches because I get to see his eyes flicker closed for a second. That's— Is that what's been happening behind his mask every time I bring this up? Oh, forget the stripping. I'd give him anything he damn well wants just to get to watch his eyes while we fuck.
I probably shouldn't let him know that.
He looks back up at me, and there's a background of desire there that's just intoxicating. I want more of it, I want all of it. I want to pin him down and watch him come from my mouth, cock, and fingers, and see all of it in his damn eyes. There's no way he thinks the same thing of me, right? I would have known, he would have mentioned something even if it was some sarcastic, backhanded comment.
"If you give me something good enough," he says, low and dark, and I let my grin slide a little wider. "It'll have to be damn good though, Quick. My ring…"
"I get it," I tell him, with a tiny shrug. "Look, I might not have a fancy ring for myself, but I get enough of how important it is. I wouldn't touch it unless I wanted to start a fight of the not-as-fun kind, Lantern. Haven't you realized that I like the challenge?"
I don't totally recognize what's in his eyes — reading people isn't my biggest talent; most people you can't really get a good fix on while in superspeed — but it flattens out to something I understand way better within a second. Anger, wariness, and that slash of desire through it all. That's a look I'm used to, even if I normally don't get to actually see it. God, I could stare at his eyes for a long time and just watch how they change. How alive they are.
"We can negotiate," Hal offers, almost grudgingly but I can recognize the fake tint to it. He's not as opposed as he wants me to think he is.
I glance up again, as Owlman turns around with supplies in his hands, and straighten up. "Later." Hal starts to shrug the dark brown coat he's got on over his white shirt off, pauses, winces, and I amend, "Much later. What a pain in the ass, Lantern." He scowls at me, letting the coat drop back off his arms and then raising both hands to grab the collar of the shirt at the back of his neck, dragging it over his head.
The bruises almost look worse now that his suit's gone.
Owlman steps up to his side of the table a moment later, setting the supplies down — I don't recognize them; I really do need to read up on at least some of this — and only then looking up. The smirk is gone, and he only looks at me briefly before turning to Hal, who's shoving his jacket and shirt back behind him on the table.
"Sit up straight and raise your arms," Owlman orders, picking through the supplies.
I'm not right up against the table, but I watch closely as Hal obeys and lifts both arms to cross behind his neck, resting easily. Straightening up looks like it's painful, but he does it anyway. Owlman sets to work, and I keep my eyes on his hands and exactly what they're doing. If he steps out of line, if he dares touching anywhere he shouldn't, any way he shouldn't, I'm damn well going to call him on it. Hal can defend himself, but there's something between them that makes me think he isn't going to, and if he won't I'll do it for him.
It's not like I care that Hal's apparently too freaked out by the Owl to stop him taking advantage, but I don't want to watch it happen. As long as I'm around, Owlman can keep his hands to himself. I don't give a damn what Hal thinks of it, or what the Owl thinks of me. I don't like it, so I'm not going to let it happen. It's that simple.
Whatever the reason, Owlman does keep his touch professional. It's obviously painful for Hal, but as far as I can tell that's just the cost of it, and the Owl isn't intentionally making it hurt any more than it has to. He finishes, briefly running fingers back along the wrap, but his head is tilted down so I'm pretty sure he's just checking his own work. He withdraws after a moment, and then reaches back to grab Hal's coat and shirt and drop them in Lantern's lap.
"Put those back on, and your ring."
It looks like getting the clothing back on is exceedingly painful — even more than taking it off — but Owlman doesn't move to assist, and I really don't either. Hal's injured, not a cripple, and unless it looks like he legitimately can't do something I'm not going to step in. I probably wouldn't anyway, not unless it was actually really important, or going to get him killed. Or he asked.
It's really clear that the moment when he slips his ring back on makes him feel a whole lot better. He straightens back up under the wave of green energy, and it definitely makes me a little less concerned now that he's got that suit back on. I mean, him letting the top half of it disintegrate after it's formed still makes him a little vulnerable, but not excessively, like before. He raises his arms back up without prompting, and I go back to watching Owlman put on the second wrap.
"So, what's 'reasonable' physical activity?" I ask, kind of sarcastically.
Owlman doesn't look up, but I catch the flicker of another smirk. "Anything that directly aggravates this section of ribs, to put it simply."
"That's vague as hell," Lantern snaps, his voice a little tight with pain.
"Any activities, fighting or otherwise, that include twisting or bending of the torso, or possibility of a direct strike to your ribs that might widen the cracks or make the bone snap completely." The Owl looks up, tugging something tighter that makes Hal wince. "Don't engage in anything but ranged combat for a while, and keep your midair acrobatics to a minimum. I'll make sure someone else picks up the slack you'll leave."
Lantern glares, and snarls out, "I don't need help."
"And I don't feel like risking your imprisonment or death on your own arrogant sense of strength," Owlman counters sharply. "It wasn't an offer, Lantern. I don't expect you to cooperate specifically with them but there will be more of our presence in your city, and they will step in if needed, until you're healed. I don't need anyone else finding out you're injured when you're inevitably incapable of handling them."
Lantern is just a step below furious, but his teeth clench together and he stays silent. This is more what I'm used to. Ultraman may be our official 'leader,' but everyone knows when it comes to strategy, day-to-day workings, and even battle tactics, Owlman is the real mind behind it. We all know better than to really argue his strategies; I think we've all had a time that we disobeyed his orders in a fight and got our asses handed to us.
It's not fun, and then you have to deal with the snide little 'I told you so's and the 'you should have listened's, and it's just a pain in the ass.
"How long is this going to take?" Lantern snaps, just shy of demanding, and Owlman lifts one shoulder in a tiny shrug.
"It depends on your physiology," he says, as he finishes the wrap and then does that same grazing of fingers to check it. "A couple of weeks, at least. Come back every other week to get it checked, and get new wraps."
Lantern grimaces, and I snort. "Great. I was looking forward to that fight, Lantern."
Owlman pulls back, and Lantern shoots me a nasty glare as he lowers his arms and reforms the suit over his torso. There's a slight irregularity around his middle if you know what to look for, but it's barely even visible. Unless they're really close, or already know, no one should be able to tell he's got anything under his suit.
"I'm sure I could substitute if you're looking for a," I swear I don't imagine the pause in Owlman's speech before he finishes with, "fight." Huh.
"No," Hal snarls instantly, both hands clenching into fists as his legs draw up, feet bracing on the table. He's turned mostly towards Owlman, really aggressive for the first time, and his teeth are bared. "Back off." Owlman's lips twist in a smirk, and then Hal turns to me and says, just as fiercely, "You'll get your damn fight, Quick."
Well, alright then.
I let a smirk twist my mouth — way wider than Owlman's mocking one — and narrow my eyes, even if he can't see it. "You think you can deliver?"
"I know I can," Hal counters, at least sounding sure of himself.
Who knows? Maybe Hal's got tricks up his sleeve that I don't know about. I kept my ability to vibrate hidden for a long time, and I haven't pulled it out again since he let me fuck him. So, maybe he's got some kind of secret like that.
"That's lovely," Owlman says dryly. "I have work to do, enjoy whatever challenge he can give you, Quick." It sounds more sarcastic than sincere, but he turns his back on both of us almost immediately to return to the console he was originally working on.
Hal slides off the end of the table, back to his feet, and he might brace on his arms more than usual, but he doesn't give any real hint of pain. So, at least that's something. Maybe he can't really fight me the way he's claiming he can, but at least he's not cringing and limping around; he might still be good for something. If he's not, I can always satisfy myself somewhere else. I can find someone.
I don't think it's a good idea to take up Owlman's implied offer — I've got no idea what he fucks like, admittedly — but maybe, if I get desperate enough for something. I bet he's a hell of a ride; probably doesn't hold back much, if at all. I'll keep it in the back of my head just in case.
Hal nearly shoulders past me, heading for the exit without another word, and I follow him with a smirk on my lips and curiosity burning bright in the back of my mind.
This could be fun.