Title: Stand back, evildoer!
Author: Angela Griffen
Fandom: The Titans
Pairings: Arsenal/Tempest, in a way.
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Ask first.
Date: September 2004
Disclaimer: They belong to DC.
Summary: Garth was trying to have quiet soup time. Roy interrupts.
Author's Note: Probably funnier if you've seen Orgazmo.
--
There's a scuffling sound from the hallway, and when Garth looks up from his miso soup, Roy's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, hands held out before him in a child's imitation of a gun. "Stand back, evildoer!" Roy exclaims, forcing his voice lower than usual.
Garth wonders if anyone else knows that Roy has apparently gone mad. Madder. The best reaction in these sorts of situations is to just ignore Roy until he remembers he's not actually eleven years old. Garth brings another spoonful of soup to his mouth.
"Unhand her, or I will use my-- Orgasmorator!"
Oh, so he'd been watching that movie again. Garth arches an eyebrow at Roy, and tightens his grip on his cup of soup. He's expected to say something super-villain-y, isn't he? Roy's looking at him expectantly, which probably means he is. "Never," Garth offers weakly. He'd really been enjoying quiet soup time.
"Mreyw! Mreyw!" Roy's insistence on sound effects is actually quite amusing, and Garth catches himself near smile for a moment before Roy frowns at him. "Hey, I totally hit you. Perfect aim, man. I hit you. With the Orgasmorator."
Oh God, he's making the expectant face again.
Garth is pretty sure he can't actually arch his eyebrow any higher.
Roy taps his foot. He's not going anywhere.
Garth sighs. "Oh. Oh Roy. Yes. Oh God. Yes," he says monotonously, which was apparently not quite the reaction Roy was looking for, because he's moving in closer, hands on the back of Garth's chair and spinning it a little, Roy's fingers clutching the back of the chair.
He leans in, and the thing that really bothers Garth about Roy is that he has no concept of personal space at all. "Oh, so you're a 'lie back and think of Atlantis' kinda guy, gillhead?"
"Given the situation, that's more an insult to your prowess than mine," Garth replies evenly. He's proud of the scathing off-handedness of the remark right up until Roy sticks his tongue in Garth's ear.
There's the scrape of teeth against the lobe, and the tongue tracing along the whorls, and the fingers of Roy's left hand are gripping Garth's left shoulder awfully tightly. Rough wetness trailing from the inside of the ear to the outside, dancing along the rim. Up and then back down before Roy's mouth latches to the pulse point just behind his ear and sucks. Garth bites his lip to cut off the sound that nearly escapes, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
Which is when he gets a splash of lukewarm coffee to the face. The other thing that bothers Garth about Roy is that he always, always, manages to get coffee up Garth's nose when he does that.
Roy's voice is still lower than it should be, but in an entirely different way. "What was that about my prowess?"
Garth's still trying to breathe through the burn of coffee up his nose, and isn't quite sure what to say that isn't the obvious 'you stuck your tongue in my ear' when the rush of displaced air as Wally races into the room shakes Garth in his chair.
"I've got you now!" Wally shouts, and Roy is wrenched from the back of Garth's chair as Wally drags him down the hall, elaborate exclamations and raucuous laughter drifting back to the kitchen.
Garth reaches for a kleenex and wipes the coffee from his face.
Sometimes he really hates Roy.