Titre : The Unjust Justice League Man
Auteur/Artiste : babydracky
Couple : Oliver/Bart (more or less XD)
Fandom : Smallville
Rating : PG-15/M
Thème : #
Disclaimer : Oliver Queen and Bart Allen are characters from the TVShow Smallville. They are WARNER BROSS and DC Comics property. This fic was written for a contest about Oliver Queen and his return in Smallville in SEASON 7.
Warning : Very light slash. Hope you won't mind. Regarding the facts and the actor's age, Bart should be legal or nearly. And sorry but English is not my native tongue. Thanks to Tmelange for being a so great Beta to me!
The Unjust Justice League Man
When he left Metropolis six months ago he knew he wouldn't be coming back soon. The League and its missions took a lot of his "free" time, compelling him to travel frequently, to work constantly, too. His business interests took up the rest of his time. Queen Industries, his inheritance, had always been the most important thing to him until he created the Justice League; until he met the guys he worked with, his new family. Awesome superhero by night, redoubtable businessman by day. This was his new life and he was happy with it.
Though, he had to admit that even with his busy schedule he couldn't forget about the one person he had unwillingly left behind when he departed Metropolis. He agreed to the person's reasons for not joining the League, but he just couldn't give up on the idea. That was the reason he decided to come back here tonight, to the Kent Farm. He had asked his chauffeur to wait for him with the limo parked on the side of the main road, wanting to walk a little to think, and wanting to surprise Clark. Certainly, Clark wasn't expecting anyone at this time of night— especially not him.
"You're late," was called out from the loft of the barn as he was climbing the stairs, Clark's tone light with false anger. As always, Clark had amazing hearing; he was so sure he hadn't made a sound. Apparently, Clark was waiting for someone this late at night after all. Running wild, aren't we? Oliver thought, smiling.
Oliver leaned on the wooden railing at the top of the stairs, in a pose that was rather more enticing than relaxed.
"For someone who said that he was dying to see me again, this reception is not really what I'd hoped for, or would call cordial or …hearty," joked Oliver, biting his lips in order to not let his smile get any bigger.
Clark turned around so fast that Oliver thought for a moment that he'd break his neck; instead, he broke the table-leg.
"Oliver?" Clark said, clearly surprised and…relieved, as he tried to fix the table, prevent it from falling over.
"Himself," he said with a bright smile. He couldn't deny it; he had missed Clark and his openhearted and friendly face. He was just happy to know that Clark felt the same way towards him. When he realized that Clark would likely stand there all night, speechless and watching him with his expressive eyes, Oliver decided to say something first.
"I got your message, Clark—"
"To which I would have been very grateful to have gotten a longer answer than, 'We're ok'," broke in Clark, frowning. "I was really worried about you… about all of you. They talked about the refinery and the explosion on TV; they talked about the corpses, too… I thought it could have been one of you."
"I know," answered Oliver. "Everybody is fine, Boy Scout. But really, thank you for being so worried about me. Who would have thought you wouldn't be able to sleep because you were scared to death for me? I'm really touched."
"Don't be an ass," snarled Clark. "Sure I was scared. We are …friends after all." And he already had lost so many people dear to him.
"We're more than friends, Clark." Oliver's voice was sincere as he walked closer to the brunette. "We're comrades-in-arms… In any case, I always thought about you that way, because we live in the same reality, Clark, even if you like to play it solo."
"Ollie…you know it's not as easy for me as it seems…" Clark tried to explain. He really wanted to join Oliver, and he often felt remorse for staying in Smallville. But for now his duty was here, on his home turf, searching for the Zoners, preventing them from hurting people. Making amends.
"Clark." Oliver was only a few inches away from him. "I'm not only here for a courtesy visit. There are more important things than you, me, or even us. Lex is becoming more dangerous every day and the strange phenomena are multiplying…"
"I can't, Ollie," Clark answered, looking down. No one understood how much he wanted to stop Lex, to put an end to all the crazy stuff Lex was up to. But vengeance was not the solution, and Lex was not the only dangerous being he had to be concerned about. The League was already keeping an eye on him and thwarting his plans. The Zoners had to be his priority and his burden.
"Clark." Oliver's voice was gentle but assured as he rested his hand on Clark's shoulder. "Whatever you did in the past, whatever your mistake was, whatever the mission you've decided to impose upon yourself, I want you to know that I'm here for you. The guys can help, you can trust us. But I really think the time has come for you to join the team. We'll work together. The Justice League needs you."
"The Justice League." Clark smiled. "Rings true. I'm pretty sure you thought that one up, didn't you?"
"We can't hide anything from you, can we?" joked Oliver. "So, have I changed your mind?"
"Ollie…" Clark said as he put his hand on Oliver's arm, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a strange air stream in the barn, and a disgruntled voice.
"You could at least get a room," grumbled an unhappy Bart, looking away from the two men. "You didn't say you were only worried for the Blondie, Amigo. Don't tell me I came all this way for nothing!"
"Bart!" Clark's face lit up, and he smiled wide.
"Don't even try to hug me or I'll bite you." Bart frowned. "I came here to visit a friend and what do I see? My friend hugging the big boss." Bart turned to Clark. "I was worried about disturbing you during your rendezvous with Lois but it seems to me that you don't miss her that much right now."
"Lois?" Oliver asked, watching Clark.
Clark blushed, clearly not able to say anything.
"Oh? Didn't Prince Charming tell you that he's already hooked up with your princess? I mean, your ex-princess? My bad, I didn't want to spoil your big reunion…" Bart shrugged, tapping his foot on the floor with nervous energy.
"Oliver, I didn't mean to hide it from you…"
"Yeah. You just forgot to tell him. How inconsiderate of you!" Bart interrupted, not able to stay still and not letting Clark or Oliver get a word in edgewise. "I didn't know you were the kind of guy who would steal your friend's girl… That's just not cool, dude."
And before Clark was able to find an answer, Bart was gone as fast as the light.
"But… What's wrong with him?" Clark asked, totally lost. Oliver didn't seem angry at all, already used to his comrade's behavior.
"Bad time of the month? Young life crisis? Jet lag? Craving? You choose." Oliver smirked. "Now do you understand why I assigned him that code name? You never know what Impulse will do, and, well, isn't life more entertaining this way?" He extended a hand to Clark with a bright smile. "I'm not sure when we'll be able to see each other again but you have my phone number. I do like hearing from you, Clark. You'll always be more than welcome to join the League, and you know you can count on us if you ever need anything. It's what friends are for. And…take care of Lois, will you? She deserves it."
With a last wave of the hand and that brilliant smile of his he left Clark and the barn behind him, heading towards the limousine. Next to the car he saw Bart, arms crossed on his chest, still upset and agitated, mauling muddy soil with his nervous foot.
"Still here or already back?" Oliver provoked him as he was passing by, smirking.
"I had the time to go there and back three times before you decided to leave your favorite Boy Scout." Obviously, Bart was still grumpy.
"Jealousy is really ugly, Bart," he said. "Especially when shown publicly."
"What is truly ugly is trying to two-time your friends," Bart replied quickly, pouting as followed Oliver. "Can I still come with you?" he asked, voice small and embarrassed.
As an answer Oliver let him enter the limousine before him while the chauffeur was opening the door, then he comfortably sat back on the white leather seats. He then motioned to the chauffeur to close the tinted electric window. He already knew that the return trip would be long for Bart -- too long.
The car had hardly started up when Bart slouched in the corner, putting his big feet on the seat to pout a little better. After five long and never-ending minutes he said, "It's unfair."
Oliver didn't answer, knowing that when Bart really wanted to talk it was better to let him spill it out than to force him to speak.
"It's so unfair," Bart said louder and with more determination."You haven't seen him in months and the minute you do, you're all over him. I've been with you for months, through every dangerous mission, getting my ass kicked for you, and you've been dissing me left and right—"
"Bart," Oliver cut in. "You know that's not true."
"Bullshit. I want the same treatment you give him," he said. "NOW."
"What are you talking about—?" Oliver tried, but as always Bart was faster than him.
Not waiting anymore, the teen sat astride the blonde's knees. Oliver immediately put his big hands on narrow hips in order to push him away. He didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings by breaking his heart, nor did he want to be too harsh with him. But, he was just a man, after all, and if Bart didn't get off his lap—
"Bart!"Oliver scolded when the young man settled into position by sliding on his legs and pressing their bodies together, burying hands in Oliver's hair and messing with it. "We've already talked about this."
"You talked, a lot, but I never agreed to give up," Bart said, licking his lips.
Oliver tried to answer but Bart stopped him by pressing their lips together. An eager tongue crept into his mouth when hungry lips covered his, trying to find comfort, acceptance and warmth. Oliver couldn't find the strength to push Bart away, and put his hands softly on his cheeks, fondling them very tenderly. Rejecting him now would just inflam the situation. When Bart's aggressive kisses became gentler, Oliver backed away very slowly, not so far from Bart's face as to not be able to look him in the eyes, to talk to him as to an equal.
"Bart," Oliver began slowly, "we can't do this. You're too young—"
Once again Bart interrupted him but not by yelling or arguing. His eyes filled up with tears and accusing were worst. His face was flushed, and he pounded down on Oliver's chest with both fists.
"I'm old enough to risk my life as a member of the Justice League. You didn't think I was too young to be a member of your team. I'm just too young for you to take seriously. What do you expect me to do—sit around and watch you chase after Clark—"
"Bart…you're overreacting. There's nothing going on with Clark. Don't be ridiculous." Oliver tried his best to reason with him.
"I saw the two of you. He was all over you—"
"Not everyone has an obsession with my body, you know…" Oliver tried to joke, hoping to lessen the tension.
"Like hell they don't," Bart answered immediately, before his cheeks flushed. "I mean, it's not just your body. You're really smart, too, and you're funny, and you're always nice to everyone…"
Oliver could tell that Bart was embarrassed, and he really wanted to let him know that he understood his feelings, that he wasn't just blowing him off.
"How could I not want you? Besides," now Bart's grin was back in place, "It's not very cool to be still a virgin when I am nearly eighteen years old."
Oliver smiled, letting his fingers travel up his teammate's neck, playing with the shorter locks. Bart responded to his touch immediately. He was so responsive. So sensitive. So endearing.
"Bart, I understand what you're trying to do, and I'm not…unaffected, but there are certain rules of propriety, and they exist for a reason. You're right, you are old enough to be on the team, to risk your life, to have me treat you as an equal, but for purposes of a relationship—I'm much older than you, and you're not even eighteen. It would seem as if I were taking advantage of you—legally, morally—and I happen to agree with that. You should date people your own age—"
"Age is nothing but a number," Bart snapped. "I know exactly what I want. I don't need to test the waters…keep doing that. It feels great…"
Oliver snatched his fingers back, realizing he had allowed them to stray. "We already talked about this," Oliver tried again to talk some sense into him, trying at the same time to make Bart get off of his knees but only succeeding in causing Bart to snuggle up to his torso, hiding his nose by his neck.
"I know," Bart admitted reluctantly. "But it's so unfair."
When Oliver again moved his hand smoothly through Bart's messed up hair, stroking, the latter sighed deeply, now relieved, and whispered, barely audible, "Ollie, please, be patient and wait for me."
That last sentence made Oliver smile tenderly. Bart Allen, their famous Impulse, talking about "patience" and asking someone to "wait" for him—unbelievable.
"I won't go anywhere, Bart. I don't intend to run away," Oliver assured him, kissing him chastely on the temple. "But I will give you the time to mature and then you'll know…"
"I already know, Ollie. Don't talk to me like a little kid." Bart sat up, frowning. "A kiss isn't too sexual, is it?"
Oliver was taken aback and gazed at him, pondering. Innocent questions from Bart were never quite so innocent. Never.
"No," Oliver answered trying to understand where the brunette was trying to lead him before adding, to be sure that the young man would understand. "But it depends what the kiss is meant to…"
He was cut off by a fast mouth on his sensitive neck. A mouth which was doing amazing and delectable stuff, stuff which should be forbidden.
"Bart…" Oliver tried to speak in order to reason with Bart but he quickly realized that he better keep silent because his voice was threatening to betray him, already changing into a moan as the far from innocent mouth was gently sucking his skin.
"There!" Bart sang out, very pleased with himself. "So, now, everyone will know that you're mine."
Oliver sighed, knowing that Bart would finally overcome him sooner or later but he had to be strong and try not to surrender to the young man when he knew to do so would get them both in trouble. Until Bart was older, he would have to reassure him, to make him accept that he'd wait for him willingly and there was no need for an embarrassing mark to remind him that Bart cared. The things he admired about Bart needed no reminder: his tenacity, his strength of will, his sincerity and his beliefs.
He settled into his seat more comfortably, and Bart finally sat next to him, compliant, now that he was a little more secure. He let his head fall onto Oliver's shoulder. Tired, Oliver let his head fall on the young man's head, where he found a surprising amount of comfort. He was always at peace near him, an absolute truth he hardly had felt in his all life, an inner peace that he had feared he would never find. He nodded off without realizing it. Bart took his hand and whispered to him, "You shot me with your arrow. I just can't give up on you now. Don't mind me."