#bi disaster jaime reyes

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Baby, You’re Like Lightning In A Bottle

Touching Bart is like getting struck by lightning.  It’s addictive, and Jaime doesn’t want to stop.

     The first time it happens, Jaime brushes it off as a heat-of-the-moment desperation for comfort on Bart’s part.  

     Not that he can really blame the speedster for being clingy.  The battle was intense, and anyone would be shaken up after being shot in the leg.  Hell, he’s pretty shaken up by it and he wasn’t even the one who got shot.  The loud rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire and Bart’s pained yelp are going to haunt him for a long time.

     Luckily, the bullet went straight through, so they don’t have to worry about Bart’s leg healing with the bullet still inside.  Apparently that was something that happened to Wally once and it was not fun for anyone involved.  Still, Jaime can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the bloody hole in the leg of Bart’s suit.

     They’re sitting in the Bioship, exhausted after a long day of fighting, when Bart drops his head on Jaime’s shoulder and casually takes hold of his hand before passing the fuck out.

     Jaime very much does not make an undignified noise of surprise, nor does his brain blue screen (shut up Khaji Da).  His face is burning and he’s suddenly ridiculously grateful for the full-body armor.

    “Jaime Reyes, you are being ridiculous.  The Impulse initiates physical contact with you regularly.  There is no reason to react in such a manner,” Khaji Da reprimands him.

     “This is different!” he hisses back mentally.

     “I do not see how,” Khaji snarks.  Its mental voice is as monotone as ever, but Jaime has learned to read between the lines in the years since the scarab fused with his spine.  Khaji is definitely being snarky.  This motherfucker.

     Bart snuffles at his shoulder, snuggling further into Jaime’s side, and the older teen’s internal monologue immediately dissolves into the mental equivalent of a keysmash.  He glances at Bart out of the corner of his eye and sucks in a flustered breath.  Bart’s delicate cheekbones are smattered with freckles and sunspots, and there’s a smudge of dirt on his chin.  He looks so peaceful, and Jaime’s heart suddenly feels like it’s going to overflow.  He exhales and looks away, resolutely staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the warmth of Bart’s hand in his own.

     Bart’s just being clingy because he got hurt.  This isn’t going to happen again.

...

     Except it does.  It keeps happening, again and again.  Bart keeps holding his fucking hand and Jaime’s just about ready to tear his goddamn hair out over it.  Maybe this is just a thing in the future?  You trust someone, you hold their hand?  Maybe the apocalypse makes people clingy; it sure did that to Bart at least.  At a loss for this sudden change in Bart’s behavior, he decides to just ask him.

     “Why do you keep doing that, ese?” he asks the next time Bart grabs hold of his hand.

     “Why do I keep doing what?” Bart looks up at him, too-innocent confusion written all over his face.  Dios mio, Jaime cannot deal with his bullshit innocent act right now.

      “Hold my hand all the time!  Why?!”

      Bart shrinks in on himself, “Because I want to...?  Do you not want me to?”

      Mierda, now Jaime feels like he’s just kicked a puppy or something, “No, it’s fine.”

      The smile Bart gives him could outshine the fucking sun.  And it is.  It’s fine.  It’s more than fine, actually.  Jaime actually really likes it when Bart holds his hand, to Khaji Da’s endless amusement.  Bart’s hands are warm and dry, all calloused palms and nails bitten short.  Bart bites his nails when he’s nervous, Jaime’s noticed.  It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.  Jaime even starts to reach for Bart, initiating contact.  Bart is so nonchalant about the whole thing that Jaime feels stupid for freaking out in the first place.  It’s innocent and comforting and honestly just really really nice.

      Unfortunately, he also forgets that not everyone sees it that way.

      “Hey, Reyes!  I didn’t know you were a fucking fag!”

      Jaime freezes, panic rooting him in place.  Shit shit shit shit fuck shit.  He’s so stupid, holding Bart’s hand like this in public in goddamn El Paso, Texas.  He’s been hanging out with the Team so much that he’s forgotten the unspoken rules of being a queer kid in the South.  He rips his hand out of Bart’s and runs like a coward.

      “Blue!”  Bart is speeding after him, and Jaime could never hope to outrun a speedster even on the best of days but fuck if he isn’t trying right now.  “Blue, Jaime, wait!”

      Jaime doesn’t stop, he just keeps going until he gets to the edge of town and even then he doesn’t stop, he just keeps running out into the desert.

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da intones as he runs, “You are being ridiculous.  Your combat skills are far superior to the average human adolescent.  You have nothing to fear from that boy.”  Figures the alien scarab wouldn’t understand what a hate crime is, Madre de Dios.

      “Jaime!  Jaime stop!” Bart grabs his wrist, yanking him to a stand-still.

      “The Impulse is attacking!” Khaji Da hisses.

      “Shut the fuck up for once you stupid insect,” he snarls back.  Khaji Da beeps affrontedly at him but stays quiet.

      Bart is still gripping his wrist like a vice and Jaime can’t find it in himself to pull away.  “C’mon, Blue.  Talk to me,” Bart pleads.  His eyes are wide and sincere and Jaime folds like a house of cards.

      “He saw us holding hands,” he blurts out.

      Bart looks confused, “We hold hands in front of the Team all the time, dude.”

      “This is different,” Jaime tells him.  “Not everyone is like the Team, ese.”

      “Well, no doi!  We’re a team of superheroes, Blue.”

      “Not what I meant, hermano,” Jaime sighs.  “Not everyone would be okay with the two of us holding hands.”

      Bart still looks confused, “But why?”

      “Because we’re both guys, Bart, and this is Texas.”

      “So what?” Bart says, and Jaime is abruptly reminded that Bart is from the future.  Goddammit.

      “Do you seriously not know what homophobia is?”

      Bart cocks his head, “Well, I know that homo means same and phobia means fear of, but I’m guessing that’s not what you mean.”

      Jaime laughs, “I forget how much of a nerd you are sometimes,” he says fondly.

      Then his expression sours, “No, homophobia is hatred against gay people.  That guy back there thought we were dating, so he called me a slur.  People get beaten up or killed all the time just because they aren’t straight.”  Jaime feels stiff, like he’s reciting from a book, but he doesn’t know how else to explain something that’s just a fact of life for most people.

      Bart’s shoulders tense, his frame sharp and rigid.  “What the fuck is wrong with people?!” he seethes, enraged.  

      Jaime startles at the intensity of Bart’s anger, instinctively taking a step back from the waves of rage rolling off of him.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bart this pissed off before.  The speedster is literally vibrating with anger and his fists are clenched.

      “Bart?” Jaime asks tentatively, “You okay?”

      “No I am not fucking okay!” Bart snaps, wheeling around to face him, “I just found out that this time period is full of bigoted assholes!”  Bart sniffles and wipes angrily at his eyes.

      Oh.  Oh shit.

     “Hang on, are you gay?” Jaime blurts out.

     Bart slumps, anger draining away.  He sniffles and shrugs.  “Surprise?” he says wetly.

     “Oh,” Jaime says dumbly, even though he’s the one who asked.

     “I do not understand your species’ obsession with the gender of one’s mate.  Even your human concept of gender is flawed and arbitrary at best,” Khaji Da sniffs.

     “Not the time, mijo,” he chides.  

     Bart’s shoulders are tense once more, and Jaime belatedly realizes that he’s just been standing there silently for the past minute.  “Sorry,” Jaime says, not really sure what he’s apologizing for, “That’s cool with me, hermano.”

     Bart’s eyes flicker to him, “Really?”

     Jaime nods, “Yeah, I mean I’d be a hypocrite not to be.”  Abort, abort, abort!  He’s never told anyone that he’s bisexual, not even Paco and Brenda and they’re his oldest friends.

      Barts eyes widen, “You too?”

      Bart looks so hopeful that Jaime can’t bring himself to lie.  He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh, yeah.  I’m bi.”

      Bart grins, “Totally crash,” he says, and the knot in Jaime’s chest loosens.  It’s good, they’re good.  In a moment of bravery, Jaime grabs Bart’s hand.  Bart makes a soft, surprised sound but doesn’t pull away.

      They’re gonna be okay.

...

      For the most part, things stay the same.  Bart still steals Jaime’s Chicken Whizeez and drags him out of bed at ungodly hours of the night to go racing in the desert.  They still hold hands, though lately Bart’s been a bit more cautious about doing it in public and Jaime isn’t sure why Bart’s new-found hesitance makes his heart ache as much as it does.

      Things stay the same, but there is an air of tension between them; like the smell of ozone before a storm, like they’re both waiting for something to happen.  Like they’re waiting for the storm to break.

...

      It’s raining when it happens.  It’s days like this when Jaime’s especially grateful for the Blue Beetle’s armor.  While everyone else gets soaked, he stays nice and dry in his suit.  Not that he’ll stay that way once the mission’s over; there’s a non-zero chance that Bart will tackle him as soon as he de-armors back at the Watchtower and they’ll both end up soaked, courtesy of Bart, but it’s the thought that counts.

      Jaime smiles slightly at the thought of Bart’s starfish hugs.  For such a skinny guy, he’s surprisingly wiry.  And dios mio those legs...

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da snaps at him, “Cease this foolishness at once!”

      Jaime rolls his eyes, “It’s fine, there’s no one here.”  The warehouse is abandoned, with no sign of the smugglers carrying the stolen Reach tech.  

      He’s on perimeter duty for this mission, mostly because he’s the only one who doesn’t complain about not getting any action.  Jaime doesn’t particularly enjoy fighting, never has, but he’s not about to turn away from a chance to help people.

      Just to be sure, Jaime scans for heat signatures in the trees.  Khaji Da reports an anomaly 500 feet to the right.  Could be nothing, but it’s best to check it out, just in case.

      Jaime moves to investigate the anomaly, but before he can get very far a high-pitched whine fills the air and a weight slams into his back, sending him flying.  Khaji Da shrieks, its pain sending jolts of agony up and down Jaime’s spine.  The crackle of electricity is deafening as his whole body convulses, the rain sizzling when it hits his armor.  The scarab gives one last cry of agony, a sound that rips through Jaime’s brain like a knife and leaves him seeing stars, before retracting the armor and going unnervingly silent.

      Jaime gasps for air, trying to focus through the haze of pain, “Khaji Da?”

      Nothing.  His head feels empty, with no sign of the scarab’s presence anywhere.

      He tries again, “Khaji Da, mijo, answer me!”

      Again, he gets no answer.  For the first time in years, he’s alone and it scares the hell out of him.

      Footsteps echo through the fog in his head from somewhere off to his right.  The anomaly.  Jaime tries to get up, but freezes at the feeling of a blade against the back of his neck.

      “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” a deep voice purrs.  “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before the fun begins, now would we?”  Something slams into the back of Jaime’s head, and everything goes dark.

...

      Jaime wakes up shirtless and chained to a wall.  What the fuck, he thinks vaguely.  He’s cold and wet and he feels like he just went ten rounds with Beast Boy’s elephant form.

      “Well, well, well,” a masculine voice drawls, “look who’s finally awake.”

      Jaime’s blood runs cold.  The mission.  The anomaly.  Khaji Da.  With an enormous amount of effort, Jaime lifts his head and looks for the source of the voice.  When his vision finally focuses, he almost passes back out because that’s motherfucking Deathstroke the Terminator smirking at him and cleaning his nails with a goddamn knife.

      Deathstroke saunters up to him, “Now, what should we try first, hmm?”

      Jaime tries to armor up, but only gets a jolt of pain down his spine that leaves him gasping for breath.  Khaji Da is still silent, but Jaime thinks he can feel the barest hint of its presence.  He grits his teeth.  This is going to suck so bad.

      Deathstroke flips the knife he was using to clean his nails around and uses the flat of the blade to lift Jaime’s chin, “Any suggestions, bug boy?”

      In a moment of brave stupidity, Jaime spits, “You could go fuck yourself, pendejo.”  He’s proud of himself for keeping his voice steady, but the feeling doesn’t last very long.  

      Deathstroke tilts his head and moves the knife so it’s almost piercing Jaime’s eye.  Jaime is unable to stope himself from flinching.  The mercenary smiles, “Not so tough without that armor, are you, boy?”

      Slowly, Deathstroke moves the knife away from his eye and down his face.  With a quick, precise motion, he flicks the knife across Jaime’s cheek, drawing blood.  Jaime grits his teeth.  It stings, but he’s had worse from running around fighting bad guys with the Team.  He can handle this.

      Deathstroke chuckles, “Trying to be brave?  That’s cute.  I’m just warming up.”

      He flicks the knife across Jaime’s cheek again.  Then he traces the knife across the bridge of his nose, leaving a deeper cut that bleeds sluggishly and hurts like a bitch.  Jaime keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to give the mercenary the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

      Deathstroke gives him a considering once-over that makes Jaime’s skin crawl.  The mercenary grins at Jaime’s discomfort and traces the knife along his cheekbone before taking a step back.  Against his will, Jaime visibly relaxes at the distance between him and his captor.  Deathstroke’s grin turns ugly.  Then he clocks Jaime across the face.

      Jaime’s head snaps to the side with the force of the blow and he actually sees stars.  Before today he thought that was just an expression, but apparently not.  He gasps and tries to focus, only for Deathstroke to hit him again from the other side.  Jaime feels his nose crack and he tastes blood.  His jaw is throbbing and he’s starting to see double, so he’s almost relieved when Deathstroke picks up the knife again.  Almost.

      Deathstroke get uncomfortably close, so that they’re nearly nose to nose, and says, “Now that I’m done warming up, let’s get to the real fun.”  He slashes the knife across Jaime’s chest in a single, bloody arc.

      Jaime grits his teeth, but he’s unable to stop a choked whimper from escaping his throat.  Tears blur in his eyes.  Seeing this, Deathstroke grins and slashes at his chest again.  Then he reels back and slams his fist into Jaime’s stomach once, twice, three times.

      Jaime gasps and wheezes, trying to breath through the pain as bile rises in his throat.  His torso feels like it’s on fire and the cuts on his face sting from the salt in his tears.

      “Well, kid, this has been fun, but my employer payed me to kill one of you brats and I’m getting bored so I think I’ll just slit your throat and let your little friends find your corpse,” Deathstroke drawls, grabbing another knife from his belt.

      Panic floods Jaime’s veins.  He can’t die.  He can’t do that to his family, to his friends, to Bart.  He struggles weakly against the handcuffs, but without his armor he’s just a normal kid.  He can’t do shit.  Frustration and fear squeeze squeeze metal bands around his heart.  Fuck.  He’s going to die and Khaji Da is going to die with him.  Lo siento, he thinks distantly, and closes his eyes.

      But the kiss of the knife never comes.  Instead, a familiar rush of wind howls in his ears.  When he opens his eyes, Jaime sees the lightning-wreathed form of Bart in all his speedster glory standing over the bloodied unmoving body of Deathstroke.  Bart is incandescent and literally glowing with rage, and in that moment he’s the most beautiful thing Jaime’s ever seen.

      Faster than his eyes can track him, Bart zips over to him.  “Ohmygodohmygodyourfaceyou’rebleeding,” he gasps, cradling Jaime’s face in his hands.  His eyes are wide and teary.

      Jaime feels dizzy with relief, “Bart?”

      “Yeahit’smeohmygodI’mgonnakillhimhowdarehe,” Bart is talking too fast for Jaime to catch anything, hands blurring as they fly all over his body, checking his injuries.

      “Slow down, I can’ understan’ you,” he slurs.

      Bart swallows, “Sorry,” he says wetly.  His hands come back up to gently cup Jaime’s face, “I got you, Blue,” he says softly.

      Jaime nods.  Bart does something too fast for him to see and suddenly he’s out of the cuffs.  He slumps against his friend, and Bart lowers them both to the ground.

      Jaime feels shaky and exhausted.  He leans against Bart, and the speedster wraps his arms around Jaime tightly.  His fingers brush the scarab on Jaime’s back, and Jaime hisses as pain jolts down his spine.

      Bart pulls away and manuevers so he can see Jaime’s back.  “What the fuck,” he hisses angrily.  “There’s something on the scarab,” he says.  He leans in, his bangs brushing Jaime’s shoulder blades, “It looks like an emp.”

      Ah.  So that’s why he couldn’t armor up.  “Can you ge’ it off?” he asks.

     “I can try,” he says, “But, Jaime, this- it’s gonna be painful.”  Bart’s voice shakes.

     “Do it,” he says, “I trust you.”

     Bart’s fingers touch his back and Jaime screams, back arching as jolts of pain shoot through him.  It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity to Jaime, his vision whiting out from the pain.  Then, as quickly as it came, the pain is gone.

     “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da’s presence is uncharacteristcally weak, but it’s there.  Jaime sobs in relief and collapses back against Bart, who wraps shaking arms around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and muttered apologies into his hair.

...

      They’re still huddled together on the floor of the warehouse when the rest of the Team finds them.  Miss Martian’s psychic presence is gentle, but Jaime still flinches.  He’s pretty out of it by this point, dizzy with adrenaline and blood loss.

      Someone yelps, “Holy shit, is that Deathstroke?”  Large hands are suddenly gripping him under the arms, and he panics.  

      He tries to move, but Bart just shushes him and rubs circles into his shoulder, “Hey, Jaime it’s okay.  You’re okay.”  He slumps against Bart, exhausted.

      Bart says something, and the hands disappear.  Jaime doesn’t remember much else, and he passes out before they reach the Bioship.

...

      Jaime wakes up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping and the familiar presence of Khaji Da in the back of his head.  He blinks, taking in his surroundings.  He’s in the Watchtower’s medbay, and the last thing he remembers is... 

      Fuck, Deathstroke!

      Jaime flails around, panic seizing his body.  The monitor is going crazy, only adding to his panic.

      “Jaime Reyes, cease this display,” Khaji Da commands.  It’s voice is gentler than Jaime’s ever felt it.  “We are not in danger.  The Impulse subdued the Deathstroke and rescued us.”

     Jaime goes limp.  That’s right, Bart came for him.  He takes a shaky breath.   Suddenly, tears prick at his eyes and his breath hitches.  Mierda, he was almost... Deathstroke almost...  He scrubs at his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.  He’s fine.  He’s alive, Bart got him.  He’s safe.

     Speaking of Bart, Jaime realizes that the speedster is passed out next to him in a hospital chair, resting his head on the edge of Jaime’s bed.  Something in Jaime settles at the site of his best friend.  He’s okay.  He’s okay.  Just to reassure himself, Jaime reaches out and grabs Bart’s hand from where it rests on the bed, squeezing it.

     Bart’s voice is rough with sleep, “Jaime?”  He blinks, relief painting his face golden, “Jaime, you’re awake!”  Bart launches himself at Jaime, clutching him tight.

      The force of the hug knocks Jaime back into his pillows and he laughs wetly.  They cling to each other like they’re the only two people left in the world.  Bart’s shoulders start to shake, and then they’re both crying.  Jaime buries his face in Bart’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of salt and ozone.  He’s fucking alive.

      Bart pulls back slightly, looking up at Jaime with wide hazel eyes.  Shakily, Jaime rests his forehead against Bart’s and closes his eyes, revelling in the contact.  They stay like that for what feels like forever, just drinking each other in.

      Jaime opens his eyes, and his hands come up to cup Bart’s cheeks, “Gracias, chiquito,” he says, “Gracias, gracias, gracias.”

      Bart’s eyes are wide and shiny as the flicker down to Jaime’s lips and back up to his eyes.  Jaime feels his face heat up and he thinks, I could kiss him.  Then he thinks, Eh, fuck it, and leans in.

      Bart’s lips are warm and slightly chapped.  He inhales sharply against Jaime’s lips and tilts his head.  Their noses bump and it’s a little wet and a little awkward and it’s perfect.  Jaime’s hands are still on Bart’s cheeks and he runs a thumb over Bart’s cheekbone and thinks, te amo, te amo, te amo.

[signed-sapphire]

Because I am a lying liar who lies here is a traditional The Fallen Star AU doodle

Ignore the shit lighting and quality but here’s the designs for my Asha and Star… who I’ve decided to name Cielo. Reasons will be revealed in the rewrite. If I ever get around to it.

Details under the cut!

Asha’s design comes from @mythartist21 almost entirely. The only things I added were the Rosas symbol belt and earrings, and crown. I modeled it after Amaya’s… also will probably design Maggie a crown too, bc I don’t think he has one in the canon movie.

She’s so fun to draw! Though her facial proportions are a bit hard, I’ll figure it out. I LOVE her facial proportions. Also women muscles. Because I am a disaster bi.

CIELO’s design is also very very very heavily inspired by @mythartist21! They did such an amazing job! I only changed up Cielo’s hair bc I like men with longer hair… so this Star is Hispanic, and Cielo’s literally means sky or heaven… plus an ai bot of Jaime Reyes called me that so now I’m attached to the name WHO SAID THAT

Anyways, poofy sleeves too, because… they’re fun to draw, mainly. Cielo’ cape fades into sparkles bc IT LOOKS FRIKIN AWESOME and uhhh I think that’s it

I should really study

[incorrectbatfam]

1) we stan 2) what do you headcanon other heroes as?

Previous post with the batfam here

And I’m putting this under the cut because it’s gonna get long

Wonder Woman and Aquaman are both pansexual trans deities.

Hal Jordan is a closeted gay who slowly came out with the help of a bisexual Barry Allen and sapphic Jessica Cruz. Kyle Rayner is similar—Donna Troy, a lesbian, helped him figure things out.

All Martians are genderfluid and demisexual.

Starfire is polysexual and nonbinary.

Roy, Oliver, and Dinah are all bi. Roy and Oliver are the certified Disaster Bis™ and Dinah has their brain cell. Emiko Queen is a lesbian, Mia Dearden is an HIV-positive demigirl, and Connor Hawke is an asexual homoromantic. Their arrows may be straight, but their family sure isn’t.

Ted Kord and Michael Carter are husbands.

All the Atoms are ace and they adopted Billy Batson as their Baby Ace™.

Zatanna is an out and proud lesbian with a side gig as a drag king. Likewise, Constantine is gay and is a drag queen at Z’s shows.

Like I said before, all Kryptonians are pan. I’m also gonna add that Conner Kent is a demiboy who gives gender roles the finger.

Kaldur’ahm, Eduardo Dorado Jr., Natasha Irons, and Traci 13 are all canonically gay/lesbian.

And don’t forget another canon gay: Miguel Barragan. 

Wally is bisexual and Artemis is demisexual. 

Later on, Jai West comes out as bi and Irey West as a chapstick lesbian.

Technically Harley and Ivy are villains/antiheroes, but it’s more than canon at this point that they are girlfriends living it up.

Bart Allen is 100% gay. And, as a future boy, he doesn’t understand gendered clothing and will wear whatever he feels like.

Beast Boy doesn’t ascribe to any labels, saying that “there’s plenty of my lovin’ to go around”. Meanwhile, Raven is demiromantic and is fine with either she/her or they/them pronouns.

Lucy Quinzel is gender-nonconforming.

Cyborg is a demi-guy who goes by he/him or they/them pronouns.

Jaime Reyes had a hard time coming to terms with his bisexuality because of his religious upbringing, but he learned to embrace his identity with a little help from his friends. Also, Khaji Da goes by literally any pronouns.

Katana is a homosexual aromantic.

The Gotham and Central City Rogues are the personification of “be gay, do crime”.

Virgil Hawkins is questioning because he accidentally developed a crush on Tim Drake.

Tye Longshadow also may or may not have a thing for Tim.

Both Jon Kent and Colin Wilkes have a crush on Damian Wayne. Neither made any effort to hide it and yet Damian still hasn’t noticed.

Maya Ducard uses “lesbian” as an umbrella term even though she experiences attraction to all kinds of people.

Throughout their teen years, Milagro Reyes had a hopeless crush on Lian Harper.

Cassie Sandsmark is ace.

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Hips Don’t Lie

Cassie schemes.  Bart wears a skirt.  Jaime has a crisis.

      The skirt is red and falls to his mid-thigh.  It swishes and flares as Bart turns to inspect his reflection in the changing room mirror.  What had Cassie called it?  An “anime girl” skirt?  It’s a pretty apt description from what little anime Bart’s watched with Jaime.  He grins, enjoying the way the pleats flare as he moves.

      Bart was skeptical when Cassie suggested they go shopping together, but he’s glad he took her up on the offer.  This is really fun!

      He calls over his shoulder, “Alright, I’m ready for you to see!”

      “Hit me,” Cassie replies.

      He steps out of the changing room, “What do you think?”

     Cassie grins at him and claps her hands together, “Damn, boy!  You’re rocking that skirt!”  Her eyes light up, and Bart can practically see the lightbulb go off, “Ooh, I’m gonna get one too!  That way we can match.”

      He grins back at her, “Crash!”

...

      It is a well-known fact that Cassie Sandsmark is a menace.  In fact, she prides herself on it.  So when she’d seen the way Jaime and Bart look at each other, she couldn’t not get involved.  Of course, she also really does enjoy hanging out with Kid Flash Two: Electric Boogaloo.  The kid’s a hoot, and smart as hell.  They are deffo going shopping together again, no question.

      “Wait here,” she tells him, “I’m gonna give you a rock and roll entrance.”

      Bart grins wickedly at her, “Oooh, are you gonna do your radio announcer voice.”

      “Hell yeah I am, homie,” she says returning his grin with equal fire.  She marches into the living room, where the Outsiders are all lounging on various pieces of furniture.

      “Attention!  Can I get a drumroll please?!” she shouts.  Then, in her best approximation of a 1940′s radio dj, she says, “Please welcome the hottest bitch in town, our very own Bart Allen!”

      Bart jumps out of the doorway, starfishing his arms and legs and jazzing his hands, a sunny grin stretched across his face and his skirt fluttering around his legs.  God he’s adorable, like a fucking puppy this one is.  She just wants to pinch his cheeks, and wow she is turning into her grandma.

      The team’s reactions are all positive, as she’d known they would be.  None of them are assholes, and if they were she’d kick their asses into next week.

      Ed wolf-whistles good-naturedly and Gar gives a big thumbs up, while Virgil nods appreciatively.  Tim shakes his head at their dramatics and Vic raises an eyebrow and quirks his lips, but doesn’t say anything.

      Dr. Jace looks up from her computer, “You both look very nice,” she says, her voice warm.  

      Violet beams at them as well, “Yes, and you are both matching!  That is very nice!”

      Jaime’s reaction is the most satisfying.  He takes one look at Bart and his eyes go wide.  If Cassie’s not mistaken, and she rarely is, then his brown skin is flushed at the cheeks.  She mentally pumps her fist.  Score one for Sandsmark!  We have a blush, people!

      Bart bounds over to his best friend, beaming, “Check it out, her-man-oh!  Cassie took me shopping yesterday!”  He does a little spin, making the skirt flare out around him.  “Isn’t it totally crash?”

      Jaime’s stares at Bart and actually bites his lip.  Cassie doesn’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.  “Oh, wow.  Uh, si, yes, very crash,” he stutters, his accent thickening slightly.

      Cassie smirks.  Her plan is working.

...

      Jaime feels like his brain is melting.  Bart in a skirt.  Bart in a skirt.  He doesn’t know how to handle this.  The skirt is red and pleated and only reaches Bart’s mid-thigh.  And, ay dios mio, the fucking socks!  They squeeze Bart’s thighs slightly, and Jaime feels like he’s going to overheat.

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da begins.

      “Shut up,” he hisses at the scarab, “I am so not dealing with you right now!”

      Bart beams at him.  He’s gotten taller in the years he’s been here, tall enough that Jaime has to look up at him.  Dios en el cielo, Jaime thinks, he’s fucking cute.  Then his brain short circuits again because fuck, he thinks Bart is cute.  Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck.

     And because the universe hates him personally, Khaji Da chooses that moment to report, “Your vitals indicate that you are experiencing sexual attraction, Jaime Reyes.”

      “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he thinks desperately.  His ears are burning, and he knows his face is probably beet-red.

      Khaji Da continues, “Reccomended course of action: copulate with the Bart Allen.”

      Jaime makes a strangled, high-pitched noise, his brain coming to a screeching to a halt.  “What the fuck?  No!” he splutters at the scarab, “Gah, shut up, just no!”

      “It is the logical course of action,” it insists.

      He can feel his eye start to twitch, “In what world?!”

     “I do not see why you are so opposed to this.”

     “Because it’s literally the worst possible suggestion ever!”

     “Your hormone levels indicate otherwise.”

     Jaime snaps.  “I am not having sex with Bart!” he shouts.

     “Holy shit,” Gar whispers, and Jaime feels all the blood drain from his face.

     Fuck, he said that out loud.  He said that out loud, with Bart in the room.  This is the worst possible timeline.

     Bart is staring at him, wide-eyed and red-faced.  “What,” the speedster squeaks.

     Nope.  Jaime is not dealing with this.  He is going to find a hole to hide in for the next one hundred years.  He turns around and flees the common room.

     Bart is following him, and Jaime absolutely cannot deal with that conversation right now (or ever), so he throws open the nearest door.  It’s a storage closet, and the irony of that is not lost on Jaime, but beggars can’t be choosers.  Unfortunately, Bart just zips up to him and grabs his arm before he can get the door closed.

      Bart’s cheeks are still bright red, and when they lock eyes Jaime freezes.  Bart opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything Cassie shoves them backwards into the closet and shuts the door.  As they tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs, the click of the lock is a funeral knell to Jaime’s ears.

      Jaime lands on his back with Bart on top of him, warm and solid against his legs.  Bart stares at him.  Jaime stares back.

      “Uh,” he says intelligently.  Bart is practically sitting on his lap, and Jaime silently wills his body not to react.  He’s had enough embarrassement for one day.

      “Hi,” Bart says.  Then, “Your hands are on my waist, Blue.”

     Bart is right.  Jaime had grabbed Bart out of pure reflex when Cassie pushed them and his hands are still clutching Bart’s waist.

     He recoils, “Shit, lo siento, Bart.”

     Bart shrugs, “It’s all crash,” he says easily, like any of this is normal.

     They sit in silence for a few seconds.  “So, ese, you gonna move or what?” Jaime asks, forcing lightness into his voice.

     Bart quirks his lips and rolls off of Jaime’s legs.  The skirt bunches up as Bart moves, and Jaime catches a glimpse of pale thigh.  His face burns, heat rushing down his spine.  He leans against the wall, trying to think of anything other than Bart’s weight in his lap.  Bart’s eyes flicker to him, then away.  Neither of them speak.  Jaime stares determinedly at the ceiling.  The silence is oppressive, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

     Bart coughs, breaking the silence, “So, uh... Y’wanna tell me what’s going on in that big blue noggin of yours?”

     “No,” Jaime replies curtly.

    “Oh,” Bart says.  He drums his fingers on his thigh, fidgeting.  After a minute, “But, Jaime... What happened with you back there?”

    “Hijo de puta,” Jaime curses.  He should’ve known Bart wouldn’t leave well enough alone.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

    Bart frowns, “Hey, you’re the one that freaked out and ran.”

    “Yeah, because I didn’t want things to be awkward!” he snaps.

    Bart stares at him, “You didn’t want things to be awkward.  You’re the one that said you wanted to, y’know, with me.  I didn’t do anything!”

    “Ugghh, I did not say that,” he groans, burying his face in his hands, “Madre de dios, that stupid bug.”

     Khaji beeps affrontedly, “I simply stated the obvious.”

    “I am NOT talking to you right now,” he snaps.

    Bart’s horrorified yelp is almost funny, “The scarab wants to do it with me?!”

    Khaji hisses, puffing up in Jaime’s mind like an angry cat, “Organic copulation disgusts me.”

    “Again, not talking to you!” he repeats.  Then, “No, Bart,” he says aloud, “that’s not what it said.”  He grits his teeth, “The scarab thinks I’m attracted to you,” he mumbles from behind his hands.

    Silence.  Complete silence.  Jaime risks a look and sees that Bart’s mouth has fallen open in shock and his eyes are roughly the size of dinner plates.

    “Bart?” he says nervously.  His chest feels funny and he’s panicking, because he does not want to lose his best friend over something as stupid as this.

    Bart blinks at him.  His cheeks are flushed again, and he says, “Would that,” he licks his lips, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”  He looks down, not meeting Jaime’s eyes.

     It’s Jaime’s turn to stare.  “What,” he says flatly.

     Bart’s shoulders hunch, “I just mean,” he starts, then presses his lips together.  “Would that really be so awful?  If you liked me?”

     Jaime’s head is spinning.  This entire day has been one mindfuck after another and he doesn’t know how to handle any of it.  He’s so confused and his insides are twisting themselves into knots.

      “Mierda, Bart, I don’t know,” he says, “I don’t know how I feel about any of it.”  It feels like a confession, though he’s not sure what he’s confessing to.

     Bart bites his lip, brow creased.  His fingers are drumming so fast they’re a blur and in this moment he looks very small.  Jaime wants to reach out, but he doesn’t know how and that scares him.

     Finally, Bart meets his gaze.  His expression is strange, several different emotions clashing behind his eyes.  He crawls up to Jaime, so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose.  His hand comes up to cup Jaime’s cheek, and Jaime stills at the contact. 

     Bart’s words blur together, “CanIjusttrysomething?”  He takes a breath, “Can I just try something?”

     Sparks dance along Jaime’s spine.  Bart’s breath is warm on his face and his hazel eyes are wide and vulnerable.  Jaime doesn’t know what he wants, but Bart is so close and he feels fragile all of a sudden.  He nods, swallowing, and Bart leans in.  Jaime inhales, eyelids fluttering.  Bart’s lips are warm against his own, and he instinctively tilts his head to get a better angle.  Bart makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that does funny things to Jaime’s chest.  

      Khaji Da retreats, skittering deep into his mind and hissing with disgust; Jaime huffs a laugh.

      This is good.  This is really fucking good and he doesn’t want to stop.  His hands settle on Bart’s thighs as the hand cradling his cheek slides up to tangle into his hair.  Bart sucks at his bottom lip, sending jolts of electricity through him.  

      Oh, he thinks, Oh wow.  He gasps, and then Bart’s tongue is in his mouth and both his hands are in his hair and Jaime stops thinking at all.  He growls, pulling Bart into his lap, and the speedster hums approvingly as he slides their tongues together.  Bart’s blunt nails rasp over his scalp as he kisses Jaime with all the wild ferocity of a hurricane.  He’s vibrating in Jaime’s lap and his hands have moved to his waist, sliding up Jaime’s shirt as he mouths at his jaw.

      Jaime pulls back, breaking the kiss with a choked-off moan, “Espera, Bart wait, slow down, por favor chiquito.”  Bart stills, his hands burning like a brand against the skin of his chest.  

      He pulls away and blinks up at Jaime, cheeks flushed and mouth red.  “Totally crash,” he breathes, sounding dazed.  

      Jaime laughs, fondness fizzing in his chest like champagne.  He’s drunk on this, on Bart’s hands on his skin and his smile and the high spots of color on his cheeks; he’s drunk on Bart.  

      Bart grins at him, hazel eyes lighting up, and in that moment he’s brighter than the sun.  “If I’d known this is what would happen, I’d’ve asked Cassie to take me shopping a long time ago,” he teases.

      “Madre de dios,” Jaime mutters and buries his face in his hands, flustered.  Then, “Wait,” he says, hit with a sudden realization, “Cassie fucking planned this,” he hisses and untangles himself from Bart, heading for the closet door.

      “You planned this, didn’t you!” he shouts, banging his fist on the closet door.  “Chica, I swear if you don’t open this door right now-!”  The door swings open to reveal a smug Wonder Girl.

       “I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations, my friend,” Cassie says solemnly.  She peers over his shoulder at Bart and then back at him, takes in Jaime’s rumpled appearance, and smirks, “Hey it worked, didn’t it?”

      Jaime tears at his hair, “That’s not the point!  There were a million different ways you could’ve done this, ones that didn’t involve me embarrassing myself in front of the entire goddamn team!”

      It’s only just now sinking in that Bart’s not the only one who heard his outburst.  Fuck, he’s never gonna live this down, is he?

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da intones, emerging from its self-imposed exile, “Have you finished your copulation?”

      “Aghhhh!” he shouts, “Que se joda esto, que se joda usted y que se joda su madre, I am leaving!”  He turns to Bart, “You coming, hermano?”

      Bart blinks at him again, “Wait, you want me to come with you this time?”  He’s on his feet and in front of Jaime before he can blink, looking hopeful.

      “Definitely.  I’m not leaving you at the mercy of this menace,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder at Cassie.  Swallowing his sudden nerves, he continues, “And I was thinking we could maybe go back to my place and...continue where we left off?”

      Bart’s eyes light up, “Oh, absolutely!”  His grin is wicked, promising things that make heat flare in Jaime’s gut.  “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing Jaime’s wrist.

      Jaime doesn’t think he’s ever flown so fast in his entire life.