tushanshu | ten : not just anybody [video]

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ten : not just anybody [video]

[Hayley rolls her eyes, appearing distinctly nonchalant about the whole thing. The nervous twitches of her muscles and constant movement will belie this calm to anyone paying close attention, revealing her deeper anxiety.]

Don't talk to him. It's just what he wants.

[100% Encrypted to Sharon Carter]
Thanks. Without you.. [She trails off.] Seriously. Thank you.

[100% Encrypted to Bruce Banner]
I want it back. [The box, the rock.]

[100% Encrypted to Kon-El]
I have a favor to ask and, I mean, obviously you don't owe me anything. Really, I should owe you, but.. will you at least hear me out?

[100% Encrypted to Clark Kent]
[When she finally messages Clark, her attitude is anything but casual. She's tense and frowning.]

I'm sorry I blamed him- you. [She correct quickly.] It wasn't your fault. I didn't realize how much the killing was bothering me until- [Hayley cuts off and shakes her head.] There's no excuse, I know. But I'm sorry, okay? That's all I wanted to say.

[100% Encrypted to Bart Allen]
[Hayley just looks at the screen, dropping her head onto her hand. She's clearly miserable, but there's a certain underlying stability in her that she hasn't had for as long as she's known him.]

Hey.

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"I said I didn't know them!" She shouts, nearing her peak tolerance for their fighting right now. Then she's back to normal volume, but her tone remains clipped. "But you two aren't the only ones who know or have criticized me for it. Don't act like you are."

She huffs, the anger draining out of her with that, hands lifting to wrap around her neck in her usual tentative pose. When she speaks again, it's quiet and with much of the emotional fatigue she feels behind it. "You're right, okay? There's nothing I can ever do to be safe, but I'm not sorry for trying. I don't think it's so ridiculous to want to be safe, even if I'm a little.. misguided about it sometimes."

"I'm already trying to apologize to Clark and I'm so tired of being wrong, Bart. It's not like I try to be? But I'm not like you. It's exhausting trying to figure out what I'm doing even without a half dozen people pointing out every mistake all the time."

Know what makes it abundantly clear that the cheer-up-ee isn't getting cheered up or supported? Shouting. Shouting isn't easily ignored.

Their conversations always do this. There's highs and lows and streams of talking and then suddenly someone slams the brakes and pulls this conversation over to wander away with a new topic. No wonder Hayley has to rub her neck all the time. Conversational whiplash.

"That's not - I didn't - ugh!" Time to think doesn't ever guarantee knowing what to say. Bart never meant that she shouldn't aim for safety. He simply doesn't know what that means for someone normal, having never managed to be normal himself. Not even when he was trying. Everything is an approximation - an imitation of his normal friends. And fake chocolate doesn't hold a candle to the real thing.

Only the normal people that he knows, none of them have taken such umbrage with superheroes. They just. Didn't. Maybe they're more used to them. Maybe they're jaded. Who knows? Actually, who cares because none of them are here. Hayley is. So he needs to fix this, before he puts his foot in his mouth again. Worst. Comforter. Ever.

Bart is next to her, then, and rests a hand on her near shoulder - not around her, but set there to be shrugged off or accepted. "Hey, I. I'm sorry. I didn't mean don't try to be safe. Nobody's telling you to… to… move into a crack house in Detroitle. Wouldn't let you. But I'm not used to blurred lines, OK? I'm used to civilians. Heroes. Rogues. You can get almost everyone under those unbrellas. You start packing weird rocks and guns, and I dunno where that fits in. I don't wanna fight. Sooo not why I came over."

For the first time, she doesn't tense when he's suddenly beside her. His hand causes her to drop her arms and look at him, wary even as she shifts almost imperceptibly into his comforting touch. His words help to keep her anxiety at bay. After he finishes speaking, she moves forward to sit back on the edge of the couch where they started, hoping and expecting that he'll follow.

"I know nothing with me is ever easy. It's part of why I didn't have that many friends, you know? It was too hard." Her tone is free from self pity, said instead as if talking about her favorite movie. She gives him a smile, both sincere and exaggerated simultaneously. "If the offer's still good? I wouldn't mind staying at your place tonight."

Not yelling is good, right? She's not yelling, and she's not doing that jumpy thing he's seen her do a few times, when he gets too close. Walking away, though... that throws him. Hayley certainly gets bored with places quick, for someone that isn't a speedster. She only just got over here, and now she's sitting back down over there. Bart's grateful for the chance to move around in a conversation, but, grife, that must get annoying for people that can sit still.

He's a few seconds behind in following her, waiting for her to start talking and prove that, yes, they stopped fighting. Or whatever that was. Venting in each other's general direction. Bart heads over to the couch again, too fast but still followable, and takes a seat on the arm nearest her. He doesn't agree at all - friendship is a cinch. It's not hard to like people.

But how do you tell someone that, when they're opening up and saying they have trouble making friends? Hayley is trying. Don't crush that. He puts his palms on his thighs and pushes down until his arms are straight, lifting and locking his shoulders into an exaggerated shrug. "'s not. You're hard. Like a sour apple tootsie pop. Ok, maybe not that bad. A tootsie roll isn't worth all the nasty sour apple, but you are, I think. And yeah. Offer's still good. I can add you to the security system. Er. Don't break any windows just to be safe on that one."

Hayley looks up at him as he sits beside her on the arm, watches the exaggerated nature of his movements. She wonders if the visible motions are conscious or if he's practiced enough that it's automatic now, wonders if his default is the speedster or the awkward teenage kid. Not that he's all that awkward.

His comments about her being hard and sour make her drop her gaze, but she looks back up when he says she's worth it. It's such a strange sentiment. Hayley knows she's hard and defensive, mostly because she wants to be. She doesn't want to be hurt again like she's been hurt before and detachment makes that easier. Yet while she doesn't view herself as lacking in worth, someone else seeing that kind of worth in her is entirely uncommon.

"I won't break any windows," she agrees distractedly. Even without focusing on his humor, she still manages a skeptical tone.

Then a glimmer appears in her eyes and her smile widens to something almost sinister. Hayley leans over to rest her head against his extended arm, ensuring she can still awkwardly look up at him as she does. "So I get your bed and you get the floor, right?"

Slow has never been, and possibly can never be, his default setting. If she asked him, he'd tell her that it's somewhere between conscious and automatic. His cousin, Wally West, had commented on the day they met that he had always suspected superspeed was more of an instinctual power, and it's true. Bart can push himself faster, and he can focus on someone moving and speaking at a normal rate to try and match it. That's the limit of his control; there is no speedometer. There is no kill switch. He is always on. Take away other people - put him in an empty warehouse, and he's convinced that he'd be unable to gauge time or set a 'natural' pace.

So long as there are other things moving, he has a sense for the right speed. It's not always without thought - excitement throws a spanner in the works - but it's without obsession. "Good, cause I've already broken three. Replacing them is getting old."

Her leaning on him like that makes him smile, because it's just. Relaxed. Warm. So much better than the way Hayley had looked when she posted to the Network. He had been afraid that coming over was a bad idea, but it's hard to argue with a big grin. Totally the right call. "Uh. My place is the size of Metropolis. Why're either of us on the floor? There's a couch. And more than one bedroom. "

Only the briefest expression of disappointment flashes across Hayley's features before she sits up straight again. It's not that she's upset exactly. The girl isn't trying to share a bed with him and she doesn't mind the floor. It's just that she forgets sometimes how Bart's obliviousness to her subtly can be as much a bother as a blessing.

She makes a point of rolling her eyes at him, adopting a more sarcastic tone rather than venture down the path of vulnerability again. "And here I thought the whole point of staying with you was so you could play superhero protector."

Her lips pout into mock dismay. "Maybe I should go back to sleeping on one of the office couches at Stark. I'd bet their security system is a little better."

And here they are, bouncing the conversation off in yet another direction. Hayley is like ping pong. Bart's got a good idea of the angles the topic ball can take, but then she gives the ball a little spin and makes it chaotic.

"I'm not playing." Chagrined, he has to fix that presumption first, and the only reason he doesn't start a symposium on how it used to be a game until everything got serious, with perhaps some self debate on when the flip happened, is that she asked that they not talk about hero stuff. They don't see eye-to-eye on yet, so he will (mostly) let it go. Mostly. "I get it now. You think closer is safer. We have different definitions of close, y'know. But I can drag another mattress in and take the floor, no sweat."

Bart thinks Tony, if he's got the correct one in his mind, is good with gadgets - they both are, really. One of them drunk-dialed his console, though, so he's not quite protection. The security system at Bart's is stolen/borrowed/saved from Tim Drake's place that he has re-installed. He trusts it more, as its creators (who he suspects includes Batman) are from his own world. He is also certain that it's bugged to alert others if it's set off, and he's A-OK with that. "The one I've got works fine, and, bonus, no robots. And it's kinda weird, you sleeping alone in some old guy's office. My place has things like a kitchen and a full bathroom. No contest."

Edited 2014-01-17 14:36 (UTC)

Hayley sighs, but there's an audible note of relief underlining her mood now. Another small smile. She hardly plans to let him take the floor. Wanting him close, however, is not something she'll contest. The gnawing concern of that truth dwells in some corner of her mind. "I can take the floor. I was joking, before. About me taking the bed."

"And uh, ew." She makes a face at Bart about the idea of starting with Tony. "I didn't stay in his office. Just an office. I had my run of the whole second floor, which included three bathrooms, a kitchen, and a security system so complex I didn't even try to understand it. So there."

Hayley hesitates as if to add more, then thinks better of it. Telling Bart she prefers robots to superheroes - except him, of course - has too much potential for more yelling.

"Nah, take the bed." While he's aware of concepts of chivalry and treating guests well, neither of those has anything to do with this decision. Bart is being practical, not polite. "If you wake up in the middle of the night to pee, you know you're not in the right house and remember I'm on the floor. If I do it, I'm half asleep, it's my room. Nothing to remind me, and you get stepped on. Nope. You're in the bed."

The Stark office sounds all right, when it's put like that. There's something missing, though. "Yeah, but it didn't have me."

That's why she's staying with him, and he knows it. There is a cheeky, cocky smirk on his face. Being appreciated for what he considers his best features is quite the ego boost. There's no shame in being awesome.

"What if I change my mind and want to leave though? You better be a heavy sleeper," she teases. His practicality makes sense. It's still strange. Of all the teen cliches Hayley never expected to experience, taking a boy's bed for the night was definitely once of the top.

At the latter, she stares. Normally she might have a witty reply, but Bart's remark catches her so off guard that she's left dumbfounded. The worst part is that she realizes it might be true. Stark's had the security. Bruce's had the Hulk. Bart's.. has Bart. She almost resents him for that, but instead opts not to comment.

"I usually am. Once I get to sleep - sometimes, it takes awhile." But once he did fall asleep, it takes a nightmare or a blaring alarm to roust him before he's done. Bart's not worried about her keeping him up by being in the same room. "What does that matter? If you want to leave, I'm not gonna stop you. OK. I'd try to change your mind, but I'm not blockading the door or anything. Wake me up. You know I'd wanna walk you home."

She yells at him that she wants to be safe, but then she suggests sneaking out alone in the middle of the night. Yes. In a perfect world, that'd be totally safe. It's unfortunately not a perfect world, and wanting it to be better isn't enough to change it.

"Okay, okay," she grumbles. "I already said I'd stay."

She rolls her eyes and looks down to her lap, idly picking at the ends of her sleeves. Realizing she's doing just that, she scowls down at her lap and pointedly stops fidgeting. Hayley doesn't understand why she does that outside of nerves and can't figure out why Bart makes her nervous so often. Yeah, she's afraid he'll start yelling at her again or turn out to be a creep or even change his mind and decide she's not worth the effort. But those are things she can deal with. Mostly.

With the occurrence of a new thought, she looks up to him with a more neutral expression. "Kon won't be there. Right?"

Nodding at the agreement, Bart is content. Maybe this is all paranoia, but he can't shake that it's a good idea to not leave her alone tonight. And, bonus, he didn't have to offer to make breakfast or anything to get her to say yes again after the fight.

Bart shakes his head at the question. "Nah. Kon has his own place. He's over a lot, don't get me wrong. He's basically unofficially claimed a room, but he's not living there. And he wasn't over when I left."

He still hopes that they'll work past the whole kryptonite mess, but Kon will probably have a harder time letting it go than Bart himself did. It's better to not combine that day with the day her killer gets executed. "We can just chill."

"Cool," Hayley replies with a sincere smile. Just when she's about to relax into the contentedness of the situation, she glances down to her watch. "Shit."

Panic leaps onto her expression and she stands quickly, moving over towards the door. Grabbing her jacket, she gives him a regretful and half-cocked smile, realizing that he might assume the worst. "Hey, I'm sorry, but I have to go somewhere and I really cannot be late. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

He had assumed that they were going to hang out and eventually wander back to his place. This I-have-to-be-somewhere is out of the blue. He assumes that she forgot, in the shock of the confession and execution announcement. He does that all the time, only he normally doesn't have that good of a reason and has the speed to cover for it.

Bart follows her to the door, giving her a sly smile. "OK. But I can take you there. No way you'll be late then. Unless you already are. It'll keep it from not being later. Late-er. More late."

"No!" She practically cuts him off with the word, lifting a hand to emphasize the gesture. Then she realizes how harsh that has the potential to sound. Hayley trusts Bart to know what she's doing, but not so much where she's going. "It's.. something I need to do by myself."

For as much as she trusts him, she's not sure he would put his word above his concern for his friends. Which means if she admits to fetching the Kryptonite, he might just follow her and realize it's Bruce that she left the K with.

Sliding on her jacket, she moves back over towards him and lifts her hands to set on his shoulders, her eyes pleading with him. "I promise it's totally safe and I'll tell you where I went when I come over tonight, but I need you not to follow me right now."

This is now officially bizarre. She was upset, she seemed to want his company because she stuck it out through mutual grumping, she agrees to stay over, and now there's an uber secretive appointment and explicit instructions to not follow her?

Yeah. Now he's gonna follow her. Bart wouldn't have, otherwise, but banning it before he even has time to come up with the idea? Par. A. Noid. Why? He has to know.

"Fine," he snaps at her. He won't follow her right now. Bart will give her a twenty second head start. In fact, he might not follow her at all. Maybe he can send a time scout. "I'll go add you to the security system. Your password is - "

A pause while he tries to think of a word that might be easy to remember, but is, in fact, a made-up word and hard to spell. He settles on Madeline L'Engle. "Ixchel. I-X-C-H-E-L. Try and remember it."

Hayley frowns when he snaps at her and that only deepens with his telling her the password. "Okay, one? There's no way I'm going to remember that without writing it down. And two? Why are you mad at me? I told you I would tell you what's up later."

Then her own anger begins to bubble, mixing with her weariness of fighting into an apathy that's both comfortable and which she dislikes in herself. "You can't pretend to care and invite me over and then get upset the first time I want to keep a secret from you. You either trust me or you don't. So which is it, huh?"

She crosses her arms, suddenly feeling defensive.

Her lack of sci-fi knowledge is disappointing. If he'd gone with Camazotz, she might've known that one. "You pick the password then. But whatever it is can't be a real word."

Ixchel was a perfectly good password. He should've used it for himself. "A, I am not "pretending to care" here. So don't throw that in my face. If I didn't care, I wouldn't be doing any of this. I don't separate Bart Allen - "

A blur, and he's in uniform, tugging the face mask into place. There's no break in the rhythm of the sentence. "And Kid Flash so well. I can go the mask and tights route - "

Back in his normal clothes. "Or I can be plain ol' Bart, but I'm always me, OK? I can either do the hands off, 'just the facts, ma'am' hero routine or be your friend, and I already picked that one. So it's hard to not get curious when you say something and then get all shady about details. I care. I'm interested. I'll try to not be all up in your business."

Hayley shrugs a little about the password, not feeling as petulant as she may come across right now. It's just so hard with him. It used to be easy, to talk at a superficial level. Now that she's trying to be honest, everything seems impossible and every time she admits the truth comes with an argument. The speed thing isn't helping. She nearly flinches the first time he changes and tenses again on the second, too anxious right now to accept it as normal.

For now, a password. "Fine. Reaum. R-E-A-U-M. Or is that not unreal enough?"

Donna Mauer. The thought tugs Hayley's brows into genuine sadness for just a second. Then she sighs and drops her arms, glancing away and then back to him. In a deliberately blunt and sudden admission, she says, "I'm meeting with Clark."

After a beat, adopting an expression as if the confession surprises her, she continues more slowly. "I told Clark I want to apologize and so I'm going to meet him. But I want this to be my thing, Bart. I don't want to feel like I'm going because it's going to make you or anyone else happy. I don't want anyone to ruin it."

It's both truth and deceit. Yes, Hayley is meeting with Clark to apologize and she really is wary of anyone's opinions ruining her choice. On the other hand, she's going to visit Bruce to pick up the Kryptonite first and then is meeting with Kon on the way. Why Kon gets to come and Bart doesn't is so not something she's ready to try to explain.

"No, that works. Fake words are better. Real words are too easy to hack. Fake words can get hacked, too - done it myself, it's all a question of attempt limits and time - but unless I get a retina scanner, it's passwords." Bart has no intention of waiting on a retina scan every time he goes in his own house, but he's babbling. Putting distance between them and the godawful flinching. He tries to keep things slow. He really does, but he considers her a friend. Furthermore, Hayley's a friend who knows what he can do. It's hard to remember that it makes her twitch until it's too late and he feels shitty again.

The confession's a complete surprise. He had thought that she was dismissing his suggestion of apologizing again. So to hear that she's going to do it and wants to handle it herself, really own it, without help... frankly, he's proud of her. There's a tiny smile, barely lifting the corners of his mouth, as he touches her shoulder hesitatingly. Screw it. Not encouraging enough. Bart pulls her in for a big hug. "That's awesome."

He doesn't hold her long at all. "Right. You can't be late. And I've got a security box to tinker with. Reaum. Got it. "

Hayley listens to his rambling idly, far more interested in their other topic of conversation. She doesn't blame him for explaining, even if it seems a bit obvious. Often times such things are just an excuse to kill time while people think. It's something she's used often herself and with a mind like Bart's, she imagines his short elaboration is just a blip.

When he pulls her in for a hug, she immediately tenses and it's the first time she actually moves to push him away. Her frown remains in place, though her brows pull into a scowl that seems almost exaggerated, making it uncertain if she's partially amused or solely upset.

"What did I just say? I don't want to know what you think. I mean, I do, but-" She shakes her head, clearly stressed now. "Not now. I want this to be mine and you being all excited about it is like, stealing it away almost."

In truth, it has very little to do with him and much more to do with her past. Her family, friends. Aaron, Jeff. Donna. Hayley has done many of the things she has for others, for the masses. It's rare that she does something completely and entirely for herself, even while the others stem from her own beliefs, judgments, and choices. That makes it sacred somehow. Something no one can take away from her and she'll be damned if she lets anyone try. Even her friend.

Edited (typo) 2014-01-19 06:14 (UTC)

Now that hurt. When she pushes him away, Bart backs off quick. He didn't think one hug was making a big deal, but she does. It's her show. He'll let her run it. There had been no intention of inviting himself along, once she said what it was about. Hayley knew that he would go with her to apologize. All she had to do was ask, and she didn't. He respects that. Facing it with friends might be easier, but alone was better. It was maturity, or something to that extent.

"Hey. I wasn't stealing anything away," he counters, raising his hands up to shoulder height, palms out. "And I wasn't excited for it. I'm excited for you. There's a difference, and. If you don't agree, can we argue about it later? You were rushing a minute ago. Time is finite."

Bart opens the door and steps outside. "I'll see you later tonight, OK?"

She immediately regrets pushing him away when he backs off, the gesture more instinctual than chosen. For a closed off control freak like herself, that kind of casual affection is unusual and thus perceived automatically as a threat. Even when she knows that's not the case. Even when they've shared hugs before.

His consideration for her time is appreciated and he's right. She needs to leave. Hayley follows him out, locking the door behind her and giving him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. We don't need to argue. I'll be over after I talk to him and tell you all about it."

She's not entirely sure that she understands the nuance of being excited for her apologizing versus being excited for her, but she's still so very tired of arguing with him that she'll accept whatever.

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ten : not just anybody [video]

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