Title: We hard-faced creatures (No more D. H. Lawrence for Petra) (3000 words) Series: Sparrowhawk Fandom: DCU/Supreme Power Summary: They're in a shadowed corner. Enough that no one is actually going to see the slap-up Jason insists on. Pairing: Kyle Hammond/Jason Todd Rating: Adult Notes: This is not for Blog Against Racism Week. Sometimes jokes take on a life of their own. Love to Gloss, Zee, and Betty for listening. "Not in the field," Kyle says in his most ominous Nighthawk rumble. Jason chuckles softly, pulls his hand away from Kyle's hip, and springs backward, leaping up to balance on a fire escape. "Nobody would see." "You're not that fast," Kyle says, sinking back into the shadows by a dumpster. "I can be that quiet, though," Jason says, and even through the cowl that hides his shining hair and pale skin, Kyle can see him smiling. He shakes his head and settles down to wait. Marisha Stevens is one of the girls who lives in this apartment building. Her mother told her grandmother at church last week that she'd disappeared and fallen in, perhaps, with a bad crowd. When Marisha wakes up from her drug-induced sleep and goes to work, she will lead them further into the maze of the heroin distribution network. Someone connected with it has been lacing hits with rat poison, leaving victims dead before the drugs kicked in. It's not going to continue. Not in this city. Marisha's hair is all over the place when she stumbles out, wobbling a little on her high-heeled sandals. Her eyes look glazed and she doesn't even begin to notice the sound of Nighthawk following her, nor Jason on the roofs above. She's wearing an expensive-looking necklace -- probably her mother's, probably stolen -- but that's better than seeing her with nothing but rags left. She may not have stooped to prostitution. Yet. When she reaches the house where she buys her fix, she looks both ways before she goes in. Still slightly aware of her surroundings, but not sufficiently. Jason slips in through a second-story window, silently. Nighthawk goes in through the front door and takes out the dealer, the dealer's girlfriend, the dealer's muscle, and another dazed client before Marisha backs toward the door. "I didn't do anything wrong!" she says, holding onto the necklace. "I was just -- visiting -- friends --" "Right." Jason comes down the stairs beside her and blocks the door. "These aren't friends you need." The dealer holds his head and groans. "They'll tell us where their supply comes from," Kyle says. Marisha's mouth falls open a little. "I'm going home." Kyle nods and Jason steps aside. "We'll be by in a couple of days," he says cheerfully. "Checking up. You know." She flees out the door. Kyle rolls his shoulders and glances at Jason. "Upstairs?" "Four women passed out. Two men. Plus two more I had to take down." He shrugs. "No big deal." Once, he couldn't imagine having this kind of faith in anyone for backup unless it was someone ludicrously strong or fast. By now, he can make himself nod -- no more than that, not when Jason is in the sort of mood he was earlier -- and get on with the business of kicking the dealer until he wakes up. According to what he tells them with Jason's foot poised over his throat, the next major shipment from Canada won't arrive until Thursday, he's really sorry he ever got into this, and he'll never do it again. He won't find the subdermal implant unless he tries to leave the country and can't get through a metal detector for love or money, either, so if he decides to go tell the suppliers about it, they'll be forewarned. Jason disappears first, back out the way he came. It's harder to stand there looking dangerous knowing he's cartwheeling down the roof, but it's possible. "I don't forgive you for what you did." "No, sorry, so sorry, no, no, no." Any more of this and the dealer's going to be sitting in a puddle of his own urine. It's always important to make an impression. "If I ever hear of you breaking the law again, the police will never know your fingerprints." The tones he uses for Nighthawk rarely have this much of the Baptist preacher, but it's working on the dealer tonight. "They'll be scattered all over the precinct." "I promise!" The dealer cowers and Kyle takes the opportunity to disappear from view, then meet up with Jason down the block. "Another job well done," Jason says, and they're in a shadowed corner. Enough that no one is actually going to see the slap-up he insists on. Anywhere else, Kyle would dodge it. Not to mention the grope that follows it. "Not in the field," Kyle growls at him again. "I'll be quick," Jason says, starting to drop to his knees. Kyle rolls his eyes, knowing full well it's an invisible gesture, and starts for the car. On the way back, he takes the roofs and Jason the ground level. It gives Kyle the chance to drop on two muggers and an attempted liquor store robbery before they get back to the car. Jason pats the hood when they get it out of its dumpster camouflage and says, "God, I love the Nightride." "You're never driving the car again if you call it that," Kyle snaps, getting in. "Your sense of humor is atrocious." Jason reclines his seat a little and laughs. "So what happens the next time you break your toe?" "I drove with broken toes before I met you, Chickenhawk." Jason nudges his shoulder lightly. "Uh-huh. And you patrolled alone, uphill both ways in the snow even in August." Kyle doesn't laugh at this. It barely takes effort. "I was fine." "Uh-huh." Jason stretches in one of those physically improbable ways that nongymnasts should never attempt. "I remember how many scars you had when I started." "Fewer than I have now." It makes him laugh and take his ankle out from behind his ear. The latter is a good step in the direction of less distraction. Laughter isn't distracting anymore. Jason keeps fidgeting all the way home. When he swings out of the car and does his level best to pin Kyle against the door, it's unsurprising, but still vexing. "This is at least as uncomfortable as that alley would have been," he objects when Jason pulls his cowl up halfway. "The more times I sneak into your room, the more likely it is we're going to get caught," Jason says with that frown that verges on a pout, then spills over into it with the verve of Niagara Falls. Kyle frowns and pushes him away. "One of the unspoken perquisites of this income bracket is eccentricity." "That didn't protect Michael Jackson," Jason says, half smiling. "When I become a white pop idol, I'm sure I'll worry." Kyle squeezes his ass despite the armor, then gives him a swat hard enough to sting. "Go on." "You're kinda famous," Jason says, taking a step back. "In your own way." "I'll see you in twenty minutes." Kyle glowers at him. "And if I see you before --" "I know, I know, I'll go cool down in the lake." Jason blows him a kiss and runs for the stairs. Twenty minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, Jason drops soundlessly through Kyle's bedroom window, wearing an entirely civilian-issue ski mask and sweats. He puts aside the Wall Street Journal. "You're late." Jason pulls his mask off. The shock of blond hair is as startling as ever. It's sufficient to account for Kyle's increased heartrate. "You didn't want me to be early," he says, toeing his shoes off and kneeling on the end of the bed before he moves up to sit by Kyle. "So I wasn't." Kyle tucks his hands under Jason's shirt. "Did you make it through the night with no new bruises?" "Yeah." Jason grins at him. "It was a good night." He said the same thing with a broken arm when he'd been working for four months and two days. He said the same thing when he went to a classmate's party and came home with his hair reeking of marijuana smoke. Someday, it may be a bad night, but it will need to involve a great deal of personal trauma before Jason will admit it. "And the cut on your leg?" "I put a new dressing on it, but it's scabbed over." Jason shrugs. "I don't know if that ointment stuff is working as well as it's supposed to." "If it gets infected --" Jason catches Kyle's wrist at his waist. "Hey, hey. No infections. It's just taking longer than normal." He wriggles. "Are you really going to pull my pants down just to look at the bandage?" Kyle raises an eyebrow at him and uses the most censorious tones he can summon. "If necessary." "It's fine." Jason rolls his eyes and shimmies out of his pants of his own accord. It's not in the least bit necessary for him to remove his underwear as well, but he does it. The fine hairs on his legs catch the light as he turns his right calf up for inspection. "See, nothing wrong." Kyle grips his ankle loosely and peels the bandage back. There is no sign of infection; it looks clean and there's sufficient ointment. He presses the tape back into place and squeezes Jason's ankle. "It looks fine, yes." Jason pulls the covers back in a grand dramatic gesture and hugs him. "Good." His lips are soft on Kyle's neck. "I was worried." "And then you humored me." Kyle tugs his hair gently and nips his ear. "Showing an amazing amount of patience -- for you." Jason shivers and pulls the sheet over them. "It was for a good cause." He sits up long enough to take his sweatshirt off and toss it aside. "Sometimes you need so much reassurance." He leans in to kiss Kyle, but Kyle plants a hand on his chest and holds him away. "You're going to drop that." "It was cute," Jason protests through a grin. Kyle flicks his chest with a finger and shakes his head. "You're going to drop that, too." "Well, it was." Jason shrugs. Sometimes there's no way to quell him short of banishment. "I mean, just because you'd never done it before --" "Nothing I do is cute," Kyle objects firmly. "Least of all anal sex." "But --" Kyle puts his hand over Jason's mouth as a temporary measure. "If you'd ever like me to do it again --" Jason's eyes widen and he holds up his hands in surrender. "Right, right, I'll drop it. No more cute. Ever." "So long as we understand each other." It's a simple sentence and doesn't in any way excuse the way Jason smiles, softening at the edges. "I really --" Kyle frowns and pins him in a quick move. "Don't tell me you came here to talk." He laughs and squirms. "I like talking, too." "That makes one of us." Kyle kisses him, as much to shut him up as because he's been teasing for it all night. Jason twists out of the pin to embrace him and gets one hand on Kyle's hip. "So if I promise not to call you cute, then --" He wraps his leg around Kyle's waist and shivers. "I really wouldn't have minded if you bent me over the car." Kyle snorts and nips at his neck to make him groan. "Not for the first thirty seconds, anyway." "And by then I wouldn't care anyway." Jason rocks against him. "Not if you were -- god -- doing that --" "That's unlikely." Kyle pulls away enough to reach the drawer and get out a glove and lubricant. Jason grins when he puts the glove on. "It always looks so weird," he says, lacing his fingers with Kyle's. "And I don't mean just because it's blue." "What else is strange?" Jason shrugs. "Mostly just that people don't talk about this kind of gloves outside of doctors' offices." He lets Kyle's hand go and stretches his leg out to the side, relaxing in what looks like a hideously uncomfortable posture. "And I don't need the safer sex lecture again." "Then --" Kyle puts some of the slick on his gloved fingers. Jason curls up off the bed to kiss him again. "Then nothing. It's fine." "Sometimes, Chickenhawk --" "Oh, please." Jason shivers and pulls his hand down. "I don't mind. It's --" He hisses through his teeth at the first touch. "Oh man, still cold -- no, don't stop." "I was going to wait." Kyle kisses him more lightly than he generally likes and presses a finger into him. He shudders harder. "But no." "Oh." Jason writhes, arching off the bed, apparently unconscious of the picture he presents. His cheeks are flushed and he bites his lip, trying to muffle a moan. Kyle runs his fingers over Jason's obliques and strokes his nipple until he does moan aloud. "So impatient." "If I --" Jason gasps. "If I wasn't you'd --" he covers his mouth with one hand. "You'd make me that way anyway." "Your reactions are under your own control," Kyle chides him. Jason's got his eyes squeezed shut by now. He can't see Kyle smile. "Not always -- not -- please --" Jason reaches for him and grabs his shoulder, pulling him down for another kiss. "Don't tease me." "No?" Another quick thrust and Jason sighs. It's entirely too simple to make him react. "You're sure." Jason laughs breathlessly and looks up at him with glazed but guileless eyes. "As anything. C'mon --" He arches off the bed again. "You've got that look, anyway." Kyle opens a condom and raises his eyebrow at Jason. "Which look?" "You wish you'd been -- ah -- capricious enough to bend me over the car after all." "Capricious." Jason's grin is nearly infectious. "I guess it was too dangerous for you." The provocation is entirely heavy-handed. It wouldn't work in and of itself, let alone on any but the most foolish target. Kyle lets himself play along to the extent of squeezing Jason's wrist hard and pushing into him faster than might otherwise be prudent. "Unsubtle," he says, frowning. "But effective." Jason digs one of his heels into the mattress and wraps his other leg around Kyle's. "God, that's -- you feel --" Kyle kisses him again in the interests of avoiding ridiculous declarations. It doesn't stop him from making a soft humming sound, and it certainly doesn't deter him from dragging his fingernails down Kyle's back in a counterpoint to the whimpers he's choking back. Jason seems determined to get himself entirely off the bed with every fourth thrust in a physically impossible way that nevertheless feels well worth the effort. Jason clings until he's gasping for breath more sincerely and has to pull away from the kiss. "Please, I --" He bites Kyle's ear. "Let me up." Letting him go is something of a wrench, both in the interests of sexual pleasure and in the less focused sense of something more nebulous. "All right?" "You're learning." Jason grins at him and rolls them over. "You are -- I --" He shakes his head. "I really am --" "Going to say something soft-headed?" Kyle interrupts him. Jason shakes his head and straddles Kyle's chest. "You'll let me someday." "Improbable." "Oh, maybe." Jason smiles at him with an entirely foolish expression that he will hopefully grow out of, then kneels up. "I -- think --" He sinks down onto Kyle again and takes a deep breath when he can. "I'll -- mm -- get under your guard." Kyle sighs. "Not with that kind of warning." Jason runs his nails down Kyle's chest and rolls his hips. "Not -- not a warning." "No?" He laughs, gasps, and laughs again. "Mission statement." He takes one of Kyle's hands and braces himself, writhing with impressive muscle control. "It's important." Kyle tweaks his nipple. "Under some -- circumstances." He meets Jason's next thrust and gets him to open his eyes. "God, you feel so good -- don't stop --" Jason throws his head back, baring his throat and the fading marks on its base. "Oh, please --" The faint toothmarks will doubtless be gone by the time he leaves for school. "Your -- ah -- secondary objective is succeeding, then?" Jason shudders and squeezes his hand. "I can't -- oh -- I can't think --" "Then yes." Kyle strokes him and he wails, moving faster. "Good to -- to know." "You're -- oh fuck, oh -- you're getting really -- good -- so good --" Jason shakes his head and pushes himself faster. "Just like that --" All it takes is a quick scrape of fingernails across his stomach, leaving bright lines on his fair skin, and he's coming, groaning something entirely meaningless and shaking all over. "Well, that was easy," Kyle says. Jason narrows his eyes in an entirely deliberate imitation of him. "It required skill and practice," he says, but the sharpness he tries to put into his voice is mostly lost in breathiness. Kyle cradles his hip. "You mean I'm not a natural?" The phrase is Jason's, and makes him smile. "Didn't say that, did I?" He squeezes Kyle with his thighs and takes his bare hand in order to nibble his fingertips. "That's -- not --" Kyle shakes his head. "I'll be gentle." Jason sucks two of his fingers, hard, and rocks his hips, humming a little in his throat. The combination is not one that Kyle has developed resistance to, though it might be -- It might be impossible, considering how much it arrests his breathing and undermines his control. He manages to say nothing, only sigh, but it's a close call. "Mm." Jason lets his fingers go with one more showy lick and kneels up. Taking the condom off is reflex; stripping the glove equally so. They hit the trash with soft noises and Jason is embracing him. "I --" "Don't start," Kyle warns him. "That was fun. That's all." Jason nuzzles his shoulder. "And I don't want to get up yet." He's still sticky, but worse things have happened to these sheets. "The alarm is set for five forty-five." Jason pulls the covers up. "Plenty of time to get out then." "If you're quiet about it. And careful." Just before he turns the lights off, he smiles. "I always am."
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