Author's Note: I, of course, own nothing from Young Justice. This is a slash fic that is done in response to a 30 day OTP challenge. If you have no interest, simply do not read. If you do, enjoy.
1: "I Want to Hold Your Hand"
Mal had no idea when it started: that tug in his chest when his eyes landed on Blue-Jaime. He had been given permission to call him Jaime. Maybe that was when it had started. Mal didn't know. What he did know was that it need to stop.
Jaime was only sixteen. Sixteen. Minor. Too young. Illegal. So Mal needed to step away from this before he couldn't. Not that he was fooling himself. Mal knew he was stuck already. He couldn't step away from Jaime if he tried.
There was something about Jaime. Something he'd never seen in Karen. Mal tried to pin it once, but only came up with things like Jaime's calm, easy going way about everything and his dedication to friends and relationships before all else…well, that and some strange magnetism that simply hung about the young man, drawing Mal in. Making him want to touch.
And that's when Mal would hit the gym, or the training room, or the showers, or anywhere Jaime wasn't. Because Jaime was young. Young and oblivious to the affect that his smile was beginning to have on Mal. Yet the heaviness in Jaime's eyes made it impossible to deny the boy anything, so the young one began to tag after Mal.
His relationship with Karen ended quietly, amicably, soon after. Her heart had always been set on science, and his…his had begun to stray somewhere he feared it wandering- in the depths of honey brown eyes and the rich tones of Spanglish. He was then forced to teach his hands to fold into his arms rather than to reach out for things they should not be wanting.
One day Jaime crashed on Mal's couch, exhausted and without a word. Mal was left to the sight of him- sprawled out at odd angles, limbs askew, and lips slightly parted- with only Jaime's shallow, steady breathing to fill the silence. It was a test of self-control that Mal didn't think he was up to.
When Jaime woke, Mal was not to be found at first. Jaime wandered into the back yard eventually, only to spot Mal perched on the roof. Scarab let Jaime grow some Blue Beetle wings and fly up to sit by Mal. Carefully, Jaime asked what was on his mind and Mal admitted that he was thinking of the time that Blue Beetle and the others had been captured by Kaldur and how Mal had feared that they might not come back. It wasn't entirely the truth, but the thought had crossed Mal's mind that night.
Jaime in turn pronounced that it was too heavy a though for the moment, that they should enjoy the rare peace that they had found, and insisted instead that the two of them should devise a secret handshake. Mal laughed at the idea at first, but then remembered that Jaime had not had a lot of friends before the Team, and that perhaps he had never had the chance to make a secret handshake before. Sobered, Mal agreed, hoping desperately that his palms didn't sweat in anticipation of touching Jaime's hands.
I want to hold your hand. the suddenness of the thought almost had Mal staggering because it was exactly what he wanted with Jaime. He just wanted to hold this strange, delightful boy's hand. To be trusted with such a vulnerable part of him. But then Mal remembered Jaime's age and reeled in his rampant thoughts.
It took a few tries before the two figured out what they wanted their handshake to consist of. Then they spent quite some time attempting to perfect it. After the fifteenth run through Jaime's hand lingered on Mal's and Mal begun to grow nervous, his palm sweating at Jaime's nearness.
Mal jerked his hand away, desperate for Jaime to not figure out the reason behind his palm's sweatiness, to not figure Mal out. Suddenly, Mal feared that Jaime's powers might include mind reading, that he might be found out by the younger boy.
Jaime's crushed and confused expression and his heartbreakingly quiet, "Oh." as he let his exquisite, tan hand drop wiped all thought of that paranoia from Mal's mind. Mal huffed then, searching for words to explain it all away, to wipe that look from Jaime's face. When Jaime stood to leave, Mal's hand shot out instinctively, catching Jaime by the wrist.
"Wait." Mal pleaded, tugging at Jaime's wrist until the Hispanic boy sat back down, while Mal searched for words that didn't sound ridiculous to explain himself. When none came Mal just stared at Jaime's hand. Beautiful and perfect. Meant to be held.
Mal sighed and turned Jaime's hand over, examining it for a moment before slipping his darker fingers one-by-one in between Jaime's own. With effort, Mal steadied his voice a bit as he asked quietly, "Is this…" Mal squeezed Jaime's hand for emphasis, "…is this okay?"
Jaime was quiet for a moment, looking at their intertwined as if he were examining them intently. The pause lasted so long that Mal almost pulled away, but Jaime's easy, gentle voice stopped him, "Yeah, hermano. It's okay." Fingers tangled together in the semi-darkness, nothing more, nothing less, Mal really thought it might be.