004 ◉ audio; dated to the 14th

[imaginate]

[ The audio clicks on and there's a long pause. When Kyle speaks, his tone is calm, perfectly controlled. It's his Business Voice, blank save for the barest hint of anger. ]

This is Kyle Rayner of the Green Lantern Corps. I apologise for the inconvenience, but our clinic at EA-3B is currently undergoing repairs and won't be able to take more patients at this time. We'll be temporarily operating a backup at WA-1A. [ He attaches a map, showing where it is. ]

Any and all hands with medical experience or healing abilities are always welcome.

[ Another long pause. ]

And if someone could come collect Avatar Korra, that would be appreciated.

[ There is a brief pause, as though he's debating what more to say, before the audio clicks off. ]

Comments

[jirk]

You'd have to write it, first.

[He laughs, casual, and shakes his head.]

[imaginate]

[Fingerpoint]

Don't tempt me. The part of my brain that's a bureaucrat is already drawing it up.

[jirk]

Yeah? Show me when you're done, and we'll talk.

[It's not a yes, but it's not a no. He already knows he'd sleep with Kyle, that's not the issue. The issue is that Kyle doesn't do things halfway. He grimaces, tries to turn it into a sort of half-smile, and then drops his hand away from Kyle's shoulder.]

Come on, I started building my 'in case of maudlin artists break glass' kit, you might as well see what's in it.

[imaginate]

James.

[Quiet, and firm.]

Did I cross a boundary?

[Is this okay? Are we okay?]

[jirk]

[Okay, that gets a laugh out of him, and he points at Kyle very firmly.]

First of all, unless you've developed a killer case of amnesia, I actually kissed you first. Second, trust me when I say that's not really a boundary you can cross with me, I'm pretty sure my crew has a betting pool set up every time we set foot on an alien planet to see how many of the locals I have sex with.

[It's a warning as much as a statement. Flings are disposable for Jim, even if he has... some measure of care for the women he sleeps with, he rarely sleeps with someone he cared about first. It's why he was never really serious about Uhura, after that initial bout of interest. He liked her too much. Casual sex partners were pretty much interchangeable to him, but his friends, his crew was irreplaceable.]

Third, I prefer women, but it's not like I don't make exceptions for the cute ones, and you do have sexy ankles, so.

[He shrugs.]

No strings. The rest's up to you.

[imaginate]

I've been reliably informed I have a lot going in the addle-brained department.

[A light shrug. It'd been different, the first time. A challenge which neither of them had backed down from. This... this was something else and they both knew it. Some part of him, the cautious, cynical part, said he will crush your heart and you won't even fight it. The other part, what was still hopeful, and unbroken, and cared for Jim... It can't be serious for either of them. Jim will die. Jim will leave.]

[Maybe it's the security of that statement, that's served him so well his whole life, that enables him to slide up to Jim confidently and smile at him.]

I don't say no to a bit of fun.

[That's what this is, fun. For both of us. That's all.]

[jirk]

[And just like that, it's a challenge. Something fun. Jim's posture relaxes, and his grin brightens considerably.]

Well, I can think of a few ways we could make that happen. Even with the cast.

[He claps a hand (gently) against Kyle's cheek, and then he withdraws and levers himself awkwardly back to his feet.]

Pretty sure I was promised painting first, though.

[imaginate]

[He tilts his head and returns the bright smile, squeezes Jim's shoulder with his hand. He's all play, now.]

Mm, talk art to me, baby.

[jirk]

Don't even get me started, I'd have to swear you to silence for the rest of your natural life.

[SERIOUSLY BRO. SERIOUSLY. Jim's got a reputation to protect, and his reputation definitely does not include 'knows art'.]

[imaginate]

Oh, nobody's getting anything out of me. I've a reputation as an idiot to protect.

[He tilts his head, the same way he did in their very first conversation, when they'd both sworn each other to silence regarding Shakespeare.]

[jirk]

Anyone who thinks you're an idiot deserves whatever they get.

[He rolls his eyes, and steps over to the bags he'd dumped on the couch. He rummages through them, pulls out a few things. Brushes, a few sheafs of rice paper, a tiny, tiny bottle of a pearlescent white. Apparently it was made from a local abalone-analogue, but it's still fairly rare. He tosses that over for Kyle's inspection.]

[imaginate]

That's 90% of my universe, Princess.

[He sounds a little sad about it, but he perks up at the supplies and looks through them excitedly. The bottle, he catches, and reverently puts it down to be used later.]

Thanks.

[jirk]

Well, 90 percent of your universe needs its ass kicked.

[And then he tilts his head to one side.]

I thought you weren't going to say that word outloud again?

[imaginate]

Kind of what the Corps is for.

[His brow furrows.]

Hey, you're right.

[So he returns to Jim's side, smiles, and then kisses him, deeply. Thank you.]

[jirk]

[Jim laughs against the kiss.]

Are you this forward with everybody, Angel, or just the cute ones?

[imaginate]

Oh, you'd like to think you're one of the cute ones, wouldn't you.

[Truth is, he wouldn't. Only for the people he cares about.]

[jirk]

I know I'm one of the cute ones.

[Of course he is, he's James Tiberius Kirk. This is not a man who doubts his self-worth.

At least not about this.]

[imaginate]

Careful now. I might swoon.

[jirk]

It's okay, I'll catch you.

[He hefts the rest of the bag and hauls it into the kitchen, because the rest is mostly food.]

[imaginate]

Who's the princess again?

[He follows Jim into the kitchen, and stretches out a hand to help put the food away.]

[jirk]

Can we say 'Spock' in this scenario?

[All seriousness!]

[imaginate]

[Idly:] Well, one of my names is the Emerald Knight... [he trails off.] I'm not overusing this metaphor, am I?

[jirk]

Tiny bit.

[He holds up his fingers about an inch apart.]

[imaginate]

Hey, I'm just an artist. Metaphors are for novelists.

[He puts away the last of the groceries, and then leans against the countertop, as if to say now what?]

[jirk]

Excuses, excuses.

[Jim, unselfconsciously mirroring Kyle's posture, leans against the sink.]

Okay. Dos and don'ts.