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Fuckup

by Te

Fuckup
by Te
July 12, 2003

Disclaimers: I want one, dammit.

Spoilers: Major ones for "The Brave and the Bold."

Summary: Flash knows he screwed up.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: Rough sequel to "A wilder cry than mine," but could be read as a standalone.

Acknowledgments: For my the Spike, who asked. Thanks to Jenn and the Spike for audiencing.

Feedback: Always. teland@teland.com

*

"And if you ever run off like that, before we get all the information -- hell, before I even know for sure which way your silly ass is going, I will personally..."

And God, GL had been going on for just about forever now, and it wasn't even as if this was anything new.

Everybody found a chance to lecture Flash, and could anyone really blame him if he'd learned to hone his power more to get the hell away from all that freaking noise than anything else?

"Yeah, I got it the first time, okay? Lay off a little, I have a headache."

"Flash --"

But he was off, taking a moment to hum just on the far edge of what they could all see, watching the world move in an even slower motion than what he was used to. GL's mouth opening like the pit of fucking despair, creaking its way into whatever else he wanted to say.

Wonder Woman frowning like she was wondering -- again -- why the hell she'd left the island of hot, athletic lesbians. Batman looking... well, he never could figure out what the hell was up with that guy and he didn't really want to try.

He made it to his room, closed the door. Turned on the stereo and cranked it until he remembered that he really did have a headache -- and what was the world coming to when gorillas were evil?

And he wasn't an idiot. He knew he'd screwed up. GOD, did he know. But who could have thought he'd fall for the same trick twice? Insert joke right fucking here.

Jesus, it was a gorilla, and yeah, he could just hear Superman giving some damned speech about inter-species tolerance, and okay, there was a point there -- three of them were aliens, for Christ's sake, but still.

Gorillas were made for earnest Sigourney Weaver flicks and banana jokes, not fucking mind control.

And yeah, if he was being honest with himself, it really just wasn't that fucking funny. He remembered that weird place he went to in his mind, and the ridiculous pain and. And being scared.

And he didn't remember anything else. A part of him -- a really fucking big part -- wanted to go back to that police station and steal the security tapes. Not because he had any particular desire to see himself being Grodd's little trained -- heh -- monkey, but just because he wanted to know.

Missing time. Like something out of an X-Files episode. And it was bad enough that he'd stolen fucking radioactive isotopes, but...

But.

There was a bruise on GL's cheek that looked a lot like his knuckles. And it didn't mean shit that there was a bruise on his own, he knew GL. He knew him, and he knew GL wouldn't have hit him unless.

It must've been really bad, that's all.

Flash caught himself pacing and stared ruefully at the carpet. It was worn down to the padding in places, and who knew how many miles he'd put on the thing?

His head still hurt, and why did everything to do up here have to be stuff that would make it worse? Reading, TV, music... nothing.

Fuck.

He pulled a beer out of his mini-fridge, then thought better of it. He didn't really feel like filling himself full of Corona for no benefit. He eased the bottle of Absolut out of the freezer, instead, forced himself to sit down, and just looked at it for a while.

It was kind of pretty, really. Frost on the outside of the clear glass, liquid inside moving just a little slower than it should.

"Drinking alone?"

"Not yet," he said, and blinked. Wondered what it would be like to be able to form actual thoughts before his mouth opened. Other people seemed to manage it fine. Hell, J'onn could think for minutes before opening his mouth, and did he hate it when it was up to J'onn to give the mission exposition? Oh, yes.

Not like he had any trouble babbling in his head, but that didn't have a damned thing to do with thinking.

His skin didn't so much as crawl as feel a little tighter and warmer. GL was looking at him, or maybe he was moving closer. He bit his lip. It suddenly seemed like they spent a lot of damned time just like this, and he didn't know how he'd stood it before.

"Flash... are you... do you need anything?"

And that was... he should've expected it. GL was like that. Tear you a new asshole one minute and the next... "I. Look, I'm sorry." Yeah, that worked fine. Maybe next time he could, you know, look at the man?

He forced his head up and saw GL standing in his doorway, looking like he didn't know if he could come in or not. Or maybe wondering if he even wanted to come in.

He gestured at his room, wincing internally a little at the mess. At least he'd gotten rid of the food garbage, though he was pretty sure Superman was jerking his chain about the spacerats. Pretty sure.

GL just looked at him for another few endless seconds, but then he walked in. Sat on the couch like he was afraid it would bite him or something.

Flash gritted his teeth a little. "Are you still... are you mad?"

GL grunted and stared at him like he was crazy. Or maybe like he was thinking of slapping him in the head again.

Flash waited for it, and waited for it, and was about to start thinking he could maybe die of waiting for it, but finally GL just leaned back against the couch and sighed. Hooked the bottle of vodka off the coffee table and gave him something like a rueful glare before opening it up and taking a swig.

Passed him the bottle.

"I'm going to take that as a 'yes, but I'm not going to kill you.'" Flash tried a smile and took his own swallow.

"Yet."

"Right."

"You could've..." GL shook his head. "You know all this already. You knew it."

"GL --"

"Just don't do it again."

"You sound like my mother," he blurted. Again with the mouth. Jesus. "No, I didn't mean that."

Another long look, another chance to wonder if this was the time they would just give up on trying to get each other and go their separate ways.

Or maybe if this would be one of those times when GL reached out, and it was always him reaching, choosing, deciding for whatever fucked-up reason --

"Flash."

"You know my name." God, was he fifteen? Twelve?

GL snorted. "Yeah, and you call me 'John' all the time."

"Well, it's just, with the uniform..."

GL looked him up and down. The reds were a little worse for wear, but very much there. Right.

"You know, I hate this secret identity shit. I think we should all get drunk and take the masks off and see what we all look like."

A laugh. "Do you really want to get Batman drunk?"

"I... okay, you have a point."

GL took the bottle from him and tipped it right back, far enough that the line of his throat was plainly visible through the uniform. Images of a week ago, GL's mouth on him, moving down, getting him wet, making him so hard that he didn't even last a minute, and yeah, ha ha, Hawkgirl, let's see you deal with that when your metabolism was on amphetamines.

GL caught him looking.

"Uh..." Yeah, and he was just living brilliance tonight, wasn't he? "I was just."

GL tilted his head at him and smiled lazily. It wasn't a GL smile at all, really. It was a John smile, like he only ever saw when the doors were closed and GL was making him work to slow down, if only so he could feel it and.

"We drink too much," he said, and fuck, it wasn't even close to what he wanted to say -- though he didn't have a clue what that was.

GL back in a heartbeat, staring at him narrow-eyed, and Flash wanted the mask off, just for fucking once, and again. His own mask, so maybe GL could find whatever he was looking for.

"I just mean... okay, I have no idea what I mean."

GL nodded slowly and set the bottle down on the table, a little ring of condensation doing absolutely nothing against the metal surface. And it made sense that everything in the tower was really durable, but it was still weird. Furniture like abstract art and GL was still looking at him and there was that darker on dark bruise on his face and Flash gave up and reached out.

Touched it with just the tips of his fingers. GL clutched at his own thigh like maybe he wanted to brush Flash's hand aside, but he didn't move.

"What happened? What did I do?" He swallowed and forced himself to keep looking.

"It was all right. You were... he was controlling you."

Flash felt his mouth twist. "Yeah, I figured that much out. But... I don't remember any of it."

"It's a bad feeling."

Flash nodded and moved his hand away from the bruise. "You don't... you have no idea how sorry I am, G."

"It could've happened to either of us. Any of us."

Flash smiled a little. "Yeah, because any of you would go running in without backup or protection. Riiight."

GL sighed, ring flaring, and John was sitting there in jeans and a t-shirt and workboots, looking like anyone you'd see on the streets, except not, because his spine was ruler-straight and his eyes...

Still that scary green, sure, but that was only part of it. "Look, I know what you're going to say --"

"No, you really don't. Flash, how the hell do you think we learned to be careful? You think I never fucked up?"

"I think you cleaned up your mistakes so well that no one could ever find them again."

GL scrubbed a hand over his buzz. "The good guys did win, you know. I don't know if I remember correctly, but there was something about a high-speed rewiring job...?"

Flash rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned over. Closed his eyes.

"I'm just saying -- we all clean up after ourselves."

Flash forced himself to nod and thought about the bottle. Thought about GL's mouth, and how it was way too soft to be a man's, and how he'd never, ever say anything like that aloud, and how he had no idea what he was doing. Ever. Not on the job, not in this, and it was like...

It was like he was just really good at faking it, and going through the motions. Run the innocents to safety, catch the bad guys, relax into GL's touch and watch him go as soft as his mouth, like this was maybe really his life, and it all made sense, even if he wasn't really sure how he'd gotten here.

He didn't want to ask, though. Because... he didn't want to ask.

And John didn't even blink when he moved to straddle him, when he wrapped his arms around his neck and held on.

Didn't move, breathed like he had all the time in the world. Like it was perfectly normal for Flash to move first, or maybe like he'd been waiting for it. He held onto Flash's hips and made him wonder if he could feel the hum of his constant vibration. If he liked it.

And the kiss was as slow as he could make it. He wanted to taste John. This big, tough, serious guy who really seemed like he wanted him, like there was something there to want.

"I want to know everything that happened," he said, and he hadn't really meant that, either, but John just nodded.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Not now, though..."

Low chuckle. "That's fine, too."

Hands moving up over his back, warm through the suit and Flash leaned in for another kiss and tried to remember how to be Wally, even though he didn't really think -- couldn't really think Wally would ever have a place here, no matter what they did.

No matter what it felt like when John pushed the mask back up over his nose and forehead, pushed a hand through his sweaty hair and then just held on.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, and he thought he could maybe taste the noise John made under the burn of alcohol. Stronger and more important.

And he tried to take it easy, to move as slow as he thought regular people did, but it was too much not to move, not to grind his hips down, not to touch John everywhere he could reach until John made another one of those great, those fucking wonderful noises and pushed and moved them until Flash was flat on his back and John was braced over him. Staring him down and smiling with weirdly serious eyes.

Something like the way Flash thought he looked when there was food around, and he didn't have any fucking clue why this was happening, why he could flirt and hit on women all day long and spend all night like this.

Why John wanted it.

"Touch me," he said, and he didn't know he was going to say that, either, but at least he could agree with the sentiment wholeheartedly.

"You gonna let us get naked this time?"

"No promises."

John snorted again and kissed him. On his mouth, yeah, but more like with his whole body, pressing him down against the cushions, giving Flash his whole hard, wonderful length and he'd wrapped his legs around the man before he knew what he was doing.

Pushing up hard and not even trying to get a better position, because there wasn't one. John pulled away a little and dragged off his t-shirt, and Flash found himself wriggling, desperate to get out of his own clothes and nothing like successful.

"Jesus, if you keep moving like that --" Gasped out groan and Flash knew he'd gotten him in a good spot.

"What? You gonna come? You gonna come on me?"

"Fuck --"

And then John had his wrists and held him down and rocked them together, and Flash rocked them together, and the clothes were in the way, but it was too hot to stop. Too much to stop, and he came right there in his fucking uniform.

And the way John was looking at him made it impossible to apologize. So fucking hungry, and maybe even a little angry, and then John was kneeling up and popping open the buttons on his jeans --

"Jesus, you're hot --" Didn't want to say that, didn't know, and he was so sick of his mouth and he was so fucking needy for this, because John had his cock out, and it was dark and hard and slick at the tip.

Felt his mouth water and couldn't think, couldn't stop, couldn't not yank John further up his body and just...

Oh Jesus, yeah.

"Flash --"

Impossibly good to hear his name like that, all groaned out, and he felt more than saw John bracing himself, pushing his wrists down harder against the cushions. And it wasn't the best way for him to do this, he couldn't get quite enough, except when it was too much, but fuck.

Taste exploding on his tongue and the weight and the feel and he was hard again, grinding up against nothing and wanting more, wanting his hands, wanted to be doing just this, because he couldn't be a fuckup here.

Feel of John all over him like maybe he couldn't be a fuckup here, and John pushed his thumbs against Flash's palms and rubbed circles there. Moved his hips so slowly and if he couldn't hear the man panting, he would think... he didn't know what he would think, and had no idea what to do with this beyond suck harder, urge John on with his own moans and pray for some contact for his dick.

Getting harder, needing more, and maybe John heard it. Psychic like fucking J'onn, and okay, that was a terrifying thought, but this was... just right.

John fucking his way into his mouth. John holding him and rubbing him and maybe needing him, and he was so hard he ached.

So hard he couldn't stop drooling and swallowing and God, in. Down into his throat and hard and wet and slick and he wondered if it was like this for women. If this was really what it was to be fucked. Opened up and taken and he couldn't stop moaning, couldn't stop writhing --

"Flash --"

And it didn't take long and it took forever, and either way it was just perfect: John spilling down his throat and sobbing out something that almost sounded like pain.

Next time, he wanted to see the man's face.

Next time, this time, and John was pulling out and yanking at him until he was bent half over the arm of the couch and John had a hand around him.

John was --

"Fuck, just look at me --"

And whatever was on his face made John narrow his eyes, make him stroke faster and squeeze harder until it was like his orgasm was yanked out of him by main force, until everything was just the feel of skin on skin and the taste of John in his mouth.

John drinking down every look on his face and John just, God, everywhere.

"Jesus," he managed.

And John was nodding, moving in close and they were in serious danger of falling off the couch, but fuck, John could fly and the kiss was more important than anything else.

That one, and the next, and the weirdly soft ones on his eyelids and in his sweaty hair.

"Don't do that again."

GL words, and he was about to say something, do something, but it was John's voice. Easy and mellow and coming from somewhere infinitely better than anywhere they lived.

Flash nodded in the circle of John's arms.

And tried to figure out what he was doing.

End.


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