Captain Boomerang

Photo

Tue, 01 Jan 2013 21:44:00 -0600

Getting shitfaced and watching the game (or something.)

Sun, 18 Nov 2012 11:45:15 -0600

boomerangjr:

Owen couldn’t help but grin at the other’s comment, laughing a bit. Good with his hands, what a cad. He took the prototype back to his work bench, picking up a different one to just fiddle with a moment. He flipped it over in his hand, snapped it open, turned it, and snapped it back in one fluid motion of his hand. It was a collapsible design he was working with, but the hinges still weren’t quite right.

“College football’s on tonight,” he said, putting the boomerang down and heading back to the couch. He hopped over the back and settled into the well worn cushion with a soft sigh. “Always more fun than pro. They get meaner cuz they don’t have to worry about their million dollar contracts.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Can ye believe? Gettin paid that much to kick a ball around. And they call us crooks.”

Settling in, he threw one arm over the back of the couch, free hand picking up the remote and flipping channels. He found a game that was just starting, not really caring who was playing. It was just fun to watch. He let silence hang over them a minute before clearing his throat.

“So,” he said, looking over at Evan. “You think Len would take me back? S’obvious the hero types don’t want much to do with me, and the shadier organizations have gone so far under I can’t even find them.” Not that they’d take him back. Several of them would just as soon kill him as let him rejoin them.

Evan watched Owen pick up and then idly fidget with the second prototype boomerang with as much attention as he had the first. Damn, he was really good at this… but apparently Owen wasn’t too interested in discussing that further as he switched the topic to sports. At the mention of sporting salaries, Evan snorted in disgust.

“Oh, don’t get me started on that,” he warned, “Cuz we’ll be here all night. You should see the English Football- soccer- League; buncha twats paid more’n we’ll see in a lifetime tae have a go at a ball.” He shook his head. “Ah wouldnae mind so much if they were halfway decent but they’re not. ‘Course, we don’t have that problem in Scotland, but that’s mainly cuz our players our even more shite nobody’d dream of payin’ them more until they actually won something.” He shook his head, pointing at Owen with his beer can. “Y’know, ah reckon us lot have just been usin’ footie as an excuse fer a braw brawl every now an’ than fer a long time.”

He laughed at this before turning his attention to the college game, letting the brightly-colored students hold his attention. Huh, that was pretty funny; what with the garish uniforms, ritualized fighting (well, what else was sport anyway?) and heavily circumstantial ultimately meaningless “team-A-vs-team-B” “us-vs-them” structure of the game, it reminded him of life in the twin cities.

Maybe Owen had been thinking the same thing, and that was what had prompted him to ask that question. Evan shifted his body to give him a full-on stare. “Did he think Len would take him back?” As he’d once said to Mark when drunk, does the Pope shit in the woods? He looked at Owen, properly, taking in all the supposedly insignificant details about him that he wore like a mark of his personal history. The tension in his frame, which was shredded down to the lean muscles buckling under his skin. The faint bronze of his sweat and the iridescent cloy of engine oil that belied the passion that had stolen his afternoon. And those keen eyes, that seemed to Evan to be looking at the world as if it was moving underwater, giving him time to calculate distance, movement and trajectories before making his strike. His father’s eyes. No doubt about it: Owen Mercer was a born Rogue.

And yet, he still doubted his own abilities. Evan thought it was weird that someone so talented could be so uncertain of their place in the world, but then he thought about how he felt whenever he went on a job without the Rogues; like a kid in a costume, waiting to be discovered and hounded out. And then he remembered the silent uncertainty that gripped Len whenever they were threatened by something he couldn’t defeat. Mark’s tear-filled gaze and quavering voice when they were holed up in an observatory, of all things. Mick’s helpless and fearful eyes when he gazed into a flame too long. Maybe this… broken part was just as important as necessary as everything else.

Evan smiled, reaching out a hand and placed it on Owen’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. “Are you jokin’? ‘Course he would; you make way more sense with us than you do without anyway… ah mean, props to yer for bein’ a hero an’ that, but… if yer want tae be a Rogue, ah reckon there’s always a place fer you here. You just… fit. You dinnae even look like you had to adjust or pretend like me an’ Axel when you first arrived.” Evan relinquished his grasp, nodding a little awkwardly and retreating back to his preferred seating position.

“So… yeah. Ah cannae say more’n that, really.” He paused as he took a sip of beer and watched the game. This lasted all of thirty seconds before curiosity got the better of him. “So what brought this about then? Why’d you fall out with the heroes?”

Owen watched the game a moment, and for an instant, everything felt slow. His mind raced, but as he watched the little figures on the TV move, it felt like a slomo replay. Well…least that meant he had time to sort things out better. After all, that question was a heavy one.

Now that he thought back on it, had he ever really been a “hero”? Suicide Squad and the Outlaws…neither of them were really all that ‘heroic’. Outlaws maybe, but only in so much as they did the really had stuff and said it was for the good guys. More and more, Owen was realizing that the lines of “good” and “bad” guys were blurred so much as to be indistinguishable from one another. Well, sometimes they were….

Damn.

“I dunno,” he finally said. “I mean…It’s like, they always expected the worst from me. I mean…” He sighed. “Basically? In prison, I did well not to be everyone’s bitch. I throw things really well, and in a pinch, I can be fast. Pit that against guys who can chew concrete into powder? I was a kicking toy. I wasn’t hard core enough for them, I guess. Not a killer, not a big time heist kinda guy, just a newbie. Then the “heroes” took me, and they assumed I was one of those guys, one of the villains. Guess I was just always…neither really.”

He shook his head, shifting in his seat a little before picking up his beer an downing a good portion of it. He didn’t want to be able to think this clearly right now.

“I never should have left you guys,” he said. “I thought I could hack it, but…Legacy’s a funny thing. Spent a while trying to prove I wasn’t like him. But that was just kinda…stupid.”

He chuckled and shook his head, raising his drink.

“To you, old man,” he said, seemingly to the ceiling.

I love having a beard.

Fri, 16 Nov 2012 21:48:55 -0600

I love having a beard.

Getting shitfaced and watching the game (or something.)

Thu, 08 Nov 2012 09:57:57 -0600

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

“I aim for cheeky,” he said with a grin. The returned affection (was it ok to call it that?) was welcomed with Owen’s hands on Evan’s hips before the other man moved and touching time was over for the moment. He watched Evan get comfortable, taking the offered beer and putting the others in the fridge for the moment. He had a decent stock himself, a couple of six packs of Sam Adams seasonals and a pack of bitch beer semi hidden in the back.

He headed over to his work table, picking up one of the boomerangs he’d been working on. He threw it underhanded to Evan, ambling back over to lean on the back of the couch.

“Meddling a little. Trying to rig up a delay switch on it. Know how cops have flash bangs and stuff? this is my answer to it. See how they like bein blind.” He took a drink, then gestured a little as he went on. “I hit a button which arms it, and it’s got about a two or three second delay before it trips. Real similar to the explosive ones, well…the newer explosive ones. The old ones go off impact. Had a problem with them goin off if I got knocked around too hard.

“But yeah…Len turned me onto some books while I was locked up, gave me something to do. Tryin to implement some of it. Lot of my other boomerangs were made by other people, people with more money and talent than me. Problem is, they get broken or lost a /lot/. So I need somethin I can make, fast and cheap. Hard work..” He took a drink, then grinned. “But damned fun.”

The touch of Owen’s hands on his hips had been nice, but he still felt a little more comfortable getting used to his surroundings first before more of the same, so he broke off to the sofa… for now. Owen didn’t seem to mind as he wandered off to the fridge, and Evan was left alone with his thoughts and a beer. Always a good turn of events, particularly when he had Owen still on his mind. This time his attention fixed on the man’s scent; that sounded weird to think of like that, but even without the affects of aftershave and whatnot, Owen smelled… good. To him, at least. Manly, but not disgusting. Buddy had told Evan once that people were attracted to pheromones that other humans secreted, so stuff that worn clothes and that from people they fancied wouldn’t smell gross to them, so maybe that was what it was…

Evan didn’t have much time to dwell on it before the man had returned and tossed a boomerang at him. He put down his beer carefully and turned over the new weapon in his palms, listening to the explain of the newer mechanics and nodding appreciatively. He didn’t care what anyone said; Owen had a real flare for this stuff. Thinking outside the box, finding more and more creative ways to get back at the rozzers, Rogue traits for sure. Some of the best.

‘Course, being a bloke, it didn’t quite come out like that.

“Here Owen, this is pretty awright, y’know?” He respectfully handed the craftsmanship over to its creator. “You’ve good a way with yer hands, ah can tell you that fer nuthin’. Ah— wait, ah fuck, that didnae come out how ah wanted at all…” he chuckled, taking a swig of beer to try to distract from the red patches forming on his face, “But mah point still stands. In both respects.” He winked.

He took himself by surprise with that as he took another draft (he wasn’t trying to get pissed, these were barely wetting his whistle, he was just genuinely thirsty. He forgot to have a drink before he left the base…) He was flirting. Not pissed flirting, not mumbling-under-his-hair-awkward flirting, just calm, easy, the-situation-presented-itself flirting. And it felt good.

By the time he pulled the can back from his lips, his easy grin was from ear-to-ear. Being around Owen tended to have that effect on him.

“So then,” he murmured, “Whut is it you want to do?”

Owen couldn’t help but grin at the other’s comment, laughing a bit. Good with his hands, what a cad. He took the prototype back to his work bench, picking up a different one to just fiddle with a moment. He flipped it over in his hand, snapped it open, turned it, and snapped it back in one fluid motion of his hand. It was a collapsible design he was working with, but the hinges still weren’t quite right.

“College football’s on tonight,” he said, putting the boomerang down and heading back to the couch. He hopped over the back and settled into the well worn cushion with a soft sigh. “Always more fun than pro. They get meaner cuz they don’t have to worry about their million dollar contracts.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Can ye believe? Gettin paid that much to kick a ball around. And they call us crooks.”

Settling in, he threw one arm over the back of the couch, free hand picking up the remote and flipping channels. He found a game that was just starting, not really caring who was playing. It was just fun to watch. He let silence hang over them a minute before clearing his throat.

“So,” he said, looking over at Evan. “You think Len would take me back? S’obvious the hero types don’t want much to do with me, and the shadier organizations have gone so far under I can’t even find them.” Not that they’d take him back. Several of them would just as soon kill him as let him rejoin them.

Getting shitfaced and watching the game (or something.)

Fri, 02 Nov 2012 15:54:45 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

howzitgaun:

If anyone at the base had been paying attention, they would have noticed that there was something… different about Evan tonight. Instead of moving at his usual languid pace of a weekend, he was buzzing around- faster, but not too fast- grabbing his clothes and his money and generally getting under everyone’s feet as he tried to delineate his stuff from there’s.

“Axel, move yer arse, yer sittin’ on mah jersey… ah dinnae care which campaign yer on, it’s gotta pause function, now shift it!”

“Here, Mark, d’you ken if mah comb’s on that bookshelf?”

“Sorry tae be a bother, but are any of mah claes in yer workshop? It’s proper baltic out, and ah can only find mah jersey, and even then Axel sat on it like a dobber and fucked it up.”

Winter jacket, clothes and comb all accounted for, he set off through a mirror, thanking them and waving goodbye. He was so focused on his goal that he didn’t even notice the chorus of “What the hell was all that about?” as he slipped into the bevel. From there, it was one quick stop-off at the off-licence for a six pack of Tennent’s and a pack of fags, and one quick trip through the gleaming automatic doors of 7-Eleven and he was outside a much more modest-looking door, raising his fist to knock.

He paused for a second as the excitement in his stomach turned to butterflies. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good about seeing someone. Fortunately, that thought only made him knock harder.

Boomer had long since lost track of the time. He was sitting at a table, carefully soldering a few wires into place. He touched it, sparked, then blew lightly across the top. Setting the tools aside, he picked the mechanism up and pressed a small button on it. It whirred, and after a moment’s delay, a small pin clicked upward.

“Sweet,” Owen said, grinning at his own handiwork. Setting it aside, he checked his watch and nearly fell out of his chair. Cursing, he ran around the small apartment like a hurricane, picking up his dirty clothes and piling them by his bed, shoving his clean clothes in drawers, and kicking his empty beer cans and chip bags together to be shoved into a trash bag.

He’d wanted to get a shower, or at least change clothes before Evan got there. The knock on the door made him jump a bit. Well…looked like it was it was a blue tank and ripped jeans. He had the heat up, and hell, he’d been working with heat and fire. Mussing his hair a bit, he jogged to the door. He slid the chain free, unlocked the dual padlocks, and finally opened the door.

“Hey, right on time,” he said, greeting Evan with a smile. “Come in. Sorry it’s kind of a mess in here. Got a little carried away workin on something.” He waved the other in, shutting the door behind him. The apartment was simple wall-less studio, a bed against one wall by the window, a TV and a couch near another wall near the kitchen, and the facing wall had a table with an assortment of boomerangs and tools. Everything was mismatched and most second hand, but he was happy with it.

“So couch is there, TVs there, couple games on tonight. Football on a couple channels, even tracked down a soccer game if you’d rather watch that.” He looked at Evan, glanced at the door, then the window…then hooked an arm around him and hugged him, kissing his cheek quickly. ho

Evan thought Owen looked a little tired and wan when he opened the door, but that was all so much set dressing. After all, Owen was still… well, fit. Evan let his eyes dart to the rips in those jeans for a second before holding his gaze. It was pretty funny that he was getting so self-conscious about his flat, though. He smiled at Owen’s words, shaking his head as he stepped over the threshold. It still felt weird to just enter a house like this, without having skimmed through their mirrors before jumping out of the best one to say ‘hi’, but given the circumstances Evan didn’t think that’d be appropriate.

“Hahaha, nae bother, Owen; yer place’s way classier’n mine, though ah know that’s not exactly hard tae be.” As he stepped past him, he lightly pressed his gift of cigarettes and Scottish booze into Owen’s chest, not to get him to take them, but as an indication that they were meant for sharing (even though he had no idea if Owen smoked or not, and judging by the smell of the flat, he guessed not.) Putting the shopping back down by his side, he surveyed the TV area. He was about to say something about watching the soccer when he thought he saw Owen’s eyes dart to something behind him. He was about to follow his gaze but then the other man’s arm was around him and his mouth was on his cheek.

Whoa, bold move there. They hadn’t even started drinking yet. Well, at least he hadn’t, but he didn’t think Owen was the type to pre-drink a visit with a friend, or whatever he was. Friend with benefits. Yeah, go with that. Anyway, as soon as that had happened, it was over, and the warmth by his side was gone. Hm, not like Owen to be skittish, maybe he was just testing the water, seeing how he’d react. Made sense, after all, he wasn’t ignorant enough of his own problems not to know that he was by far the more hesitant and awkward of the two.

So it was up to him. He gave Owen a good, hard look over. He was waiting patiently for his response, almost impassive, but the tiniest hint of a grin curled his lip. He wasn’t saying anything, but that was probably because there wasn’t anything to say. Evan twisted away for a second.

“Hey now, thassa bit cheeky,” he said, before bringing his arms up to Owen’s shoulders, and slipping one around his neck. He gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Yer lucky ah’m so tolerant.” he smirked, slowly relinquishing his grip on Owen until it was just an arm around his shoulders.

“Ah dinnae mind what we’re watchin’, never really been much of a footie fan anyway, if ah’m honest” he mused. “So long as there’s beers aboot ah’ll cheer whoever you want.” He raised the six pack he brought, snapping off two Tennants and offering one to Owen. “So you were workin’ all day, eh? Mind if you give me a nosy at what?” he asked as he made his way to the sofa. “Or is that a secret?”

“I aim for cheeky,” he said with a grin. The returned affection (was it ok to call it that?) was welcomed with Owen’s hands on Evan’s hips before the other man moved and touching time was over for the moment. He watched Evan get comfortable, taking the offered beer and putting the others in the fridge for the moment. He had a decent stock himself, a couple of six packs of Sam Adams seasonals and a pack of bitch beer semi hidden in the back.

He headed over to his work table, picking up one of the boomerangs he’d been working on. He threw it underhanded to Evan, ambling back over to lean on the back of the couch.

“Meddling a little. Trying to rig up a delay switch on it. Know how cops have flash bangs and stuff? this is my answer to it. See how they like bein blind.” He took a drink, then gestured a little as he went on. “I hit a button which arms it, and it’s got about a two or three second delay before it trips. Real similar to the explosive ones, well…the newer explosive ones. The old ones go off impact. Had a problem with them goin off if I got knocked around too hard.

“But yeah…Len turned me onto some books while I was locked up, gave me something to do. Tryin to implement some of it. Lot of my other boomerangs were made by other people, people with more money and talent than me. Problem is, they get broken or lost a /lot/. So I need somethin I can make, fast and cheap. Hard work..” He took a drink, then grinned. “But damned fun.”

Getting shitfaced and watching the game (or something.)

Sat, 27 Oct 2012 11:41:02 -0500

howzitgaun:

If anyone at the base had been paying attention, they would have noticed that there was something… different about Evan tonight. Instead of moving at his usual languid pace of a weekend, he was buzzing around- faster, but not too fast- grabbing his clothes and his money and generally getting under everyone’s feet as he tried to delineate his stuff from there’s.

“Axel, move yer arse, yer sittin’ on mah jersey… ah dinnae care which campaign yer on, it’s gotta pause function, now shift it!”

“Here, Mark, d’you ken if mah comb’s on that bookshelf?”

“Sorry tae be a bother, but are any of mah claes in yer workshop? It’s proper baltic out, and ah can only find mah jersey, and even then Axel sat on it like a dobber and fucked it up.”

Winter jacket, clothes and comb all accounted for, he set off through a mirror, thanking them and waving goodbye. He was so focused on his goal that he didn’t even notice the chorus of “What the hell was all that about?” as he slipped into the bevel. From there, it was one quick stop-off at the off-licence for a six pack of Tennent’s and a pack of fags, and one quick trip through the gleaming automatic doors of 7-Eleven and he was outside a much more modest-looking door, raising his fist to knock.

He paused for a second as the excitement in his stomach turned to butterflies. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good about seeing someone. Fortunately, that thought only made him knock harder.

Boomer had long since lost track of the time. He was sitting at a table, carefully soldering a few wires into place. He touched it, sparked, then blew lightly across the top. Setting the tools aside, he picked the mechanism up and pressed a small button on it. It whirred, and after a moment’s delay, a small pin clicked upward.

“Sweet,” Owen said, grinning at his own handiwork. Setting it aside, he checked his watch and nearly fell out of his chair. Cursing, he ran around the small apartment like a hurricane, picking up his dirty clothes and piling them by his bed, shoving his clean clothes in drawers, and kicking his empty beer cans and chip bags together to be shoved into a trash bag.

He’d wanted to get a shower, or at least change clothes before Evan got there. The knock on the door made him jump a bit. Well…looked like it was it was a blue tank and ripped jeans. He had the heat up, and hell, he’d been working with heat and fire. Mussing his hair a bit, he jogged to the door. He slid the chain free, unlocked the dual padlocks, and finally opened the door.

“Hey, right on time,” he said, greeting Evan with a smile. “Come in. Sorry it’s kind of a mess in here. Got a little carried away workin on something.” He waved the other in, shutting the door behind him. The apartment was simple wall-less studio, a bed against one wall by the window, a TV and a couch near another wall near the kitchen, and the facing wall had a table with an assortment of boomerangs and tools. Everything was mismatched and most second hand, but he was happy with it.

“So couch is there, TVs there, couple games on tonight. Football on a couple channels, even tracked down a soccer game if you’d rather watch that.” He looked at Evan, glanced at the door, then the window…then hooked an arm around him and hugged him, kissing his cheek quickly. ho

howzitgaun: boomerangjr: howzitgaun: Owen… what… Ah, you...

Thu, 25 Oct 2012 18:34:03 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

howzitgaun:

Owen… what… Ah, you weirdo! Haha, in answer to yer question, well… never really thought about it in those terms, but ah’ve never complained either.

(That’s a “yes”, but there are people watchin’, so… *grabs Owen quickly in a side hug then snaps back to his original position like nothing happens*)

Dude no one’s watching. *chuckles* You’re paranoid. *grins*

Ah, right, sorry; you know how it is when you constantly spy on people fer a livin’. Or mebbe you don’t… anyway, didja get my message aboot gettin’ shitfaced? Ah’m well up fer it, man: name the place. I picked Port Brae last time so it’s only fair.

Just saw it. Eh, I figured we could crash at my place, watch a game or somethin. Sound good to you?

howzitgaun: Owen… what… Ah, you weirdo! Haha, in answer to yer...

Thu, 25 Oct 2012 17:49:49 -0500

howzitgaun:

Owen… what… Ah, you weirdo! Haha, in answer to yer question, well… never really thought about it in those terms, but ah’ve never complained either.

(That’s a “yes”, but there are people watchin’, so… *grabs Owen quickly in a side hug then snaps back to his original position like nothing happens*)

Dude no one’s watching. *chuckles* You’re paranoid. *grins*

All the tartan all the time.

Mon, 22 Oct 2012 09:48:21 -0500

howzitgaun:

Awright, so this is just about the greatest picture of anything I have ever seen ever. However, ah’d like tae add that they’re not wearin’ Wayne tartan, despite the fact that the Waynes actually are from Scotland. (Unless ah’m mistaken. Ah did some research on wealthy industrialists to check, and ah think Waynes were Scottish, right?) So ah checked out the Wayne tartan.

Now, ah did some scoutin’ around and ah actually found several options for Wayne tartan. The Scots version of the surname ‘Wayne’ is can come from one of two families; the Swaynes of the MacQueen District and/or Clan Chattan, or the Cordwayners of Caledonia District. And after checking out the different options of each of these clans/ districts, ah really really hope that your descended frum the Cordwayners, because ah’ve found the perfect tartans fer you both.

Okay, Batman first. Caledonia actually has a tartan (number 5832 if ah’m not mistaken) called ‘Dark Island Black’. Check it out:

That’s proper Bat-tartan!

As fer Robin I, if yer wantin’ a more classic, Robin-y look, I recommend tartan number 1356 ‘Caledonia No 155’.

Clashin’.

However, if yer aimin’ for a more Nightwing-esque dealie, check out 5833 ‘Dark Island Navy’.

Good, eh?

… Okay, so doin’ this made me go on a tartan binge.

Weirdly enough, ah cannae find a Luthor tartan, even though ah wuz certain his lot were Scots, but there you go. Mebbe alla his ancestors were extremely poor.

Here’s the Mercer tartans!

(Suspiciously similar to pretty versions of the Harkness tartans, if y’ask me…)

(So apparently yer ancestors had enough dosh tae get a couple o’ tartans made before they got deported fer sheep-stealin’ or whatever :P )

The Brown’s got their own ancient tartan too.

Naturally, the McCullochs got loadsa different tartans, bein’ onnae the most ancient, distinguished an’ enduring clans.

Here’s the most famous ancient one:

An’ here’s the modern one. This is the one ah actually wear (fer formal clothin’ an’ that) as ah prefer it to the old one, but also, as ah’m not a hereditary McCulloch mahself, ah think it’s more appropriate. So here it is:

So there y’have it: loads of bloody tartans. This was pretty fun, actually… tell y’what- heroes, villains, whatever- if y’fancy findin’ out yer tartan (or y’have one), gi’ me a message an’ ah’ll sort it out.

Cheers.

M|M

….Man now I want a kilt.

howzitgaun: boomerangjr: Aw man…ok…facts…right. Drank a lot...

Fri, 12 Oct 2012 19:56:48 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

Aw man…ok…facts…right.

Drank a lot last night.

Woke up nekkid.

And my ass hurts….

………

………….Evan did you come over last night?

o_o

…

o_o

…

o-o

…

O.O

…

No but don’t worry now ah’m here tae help.

(By-the-by, who’s the lass in the corridor?)

OH her? That’s my neighbor, she’s kinda nosy. Geez, when I got back from your place, she was miss 20 questions. She thinks I’m a cheap crook, so she thought I was out robbin banks.

Aw man…ok…facts…right. Drank a lot last...

Wed, 10 Oct 2012 10:59:00 -0500

Aw man…ok…facts…right.

Drank a lot last night.

Woke up nekkid.

And my ass hurts….

………

………….Evan did you come over last night?

Photo

Tue, 09 Oct 2012 20:52:36 -0500

Brig Break and Beers

Mon, 01 Oct 2012 18:04:57 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

howzitgaun:

Having been reassured and shooed away, Evan got into the shower, twisting the temperature gauge in that weird way so the water came out right. Shit, he probably should’ve told Owen about that. Oh well, next time. As the water drummed on his back he stretched languidly, feeling a lot of the leftover tension in him leave. Last night and this morning had really done a number on his stress levels. Sure, they hadn’t exactly been a magic bullet, but more of the same, and he might feel that buzz again.

‘Buzz’. Thinking that word made him freeze mid-soaping. Alcohol gave him a buzz, coke had given him a buzz. Sex didn’t. And yet, it had naturally sprung to mind when he thought about Owen. He smiled to himself. Guess he was pretty damn good then. He finished showering and splashed his face in the sink, checking himself out in the bathroom mirror. Not even 5 o’clock shadow; thank Christ his cowl looked proper stupid with any sort of facial hair. Oh, and speaking of the cowl, and covering… Owen made his presence known on his throat. Okay, he’d have to wear cowl or scarves around the guys then, but he’s worry about that when he returned home… to the base, at any rate.

A t-shirt and jeans were sloughed on, and hair was brushed quickly out of habit. Socks were found and Evan got his head together. Opening the door again, he stepped into his room to hunt for shoes.

“You got everything you need?” he called over one shoulder, before taking advantage of his vantage point as Owen got up and turned round to check him out just a little. “If so, let’s go. You got anywhere in particular in mind? Hey, wannae go visit Keystone?”

Owen sat up quickly when he heard the door open, smiling a bit at the other man He had to admit, seeing him made him feel good. And seeing him HAPPY made him feel better. He hopped up, finding his boots from where ever he’d kicked them off last night.

“That sounds good,” he agreed with a nod. “Keystone’s got a lot of good places. Central has more, but they’re mostly the same chain aren’t they? Some yuppie place.” He shrugged, contemplating his coat before deciding against it. It was a little distinctive, and he didn’t want to cause a stir just getting a stinkin cup of coffee.

“I don’t have any particular favorite, what about you?” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, shifting his weight a little. Sometimes he had that speedster itch, the inability to be still for too long. He fought it well enough, just made him fidget at times.

Evan couldn’t hide a grin at Owen’s words; he musta been out of the loop for some time now forget that the Rogues didn’t go to Central for leisure if they couldn’t help it. Central had the science labs and technological industry, sure, but it’s branded chainstores and manicured parks were meant for the white-collar bozos and wealthy ex-frat execs that frequented them, not for the guys. It was hard to relax in civvies in a place where you knew the man two tables down in an Armani suit was twice the crook you were and would never serve the time.

Still, Evan figured he better keep that to himself; he was here to hang out with Owen and maybe come across as an advert for the general inclusiveness of the Rogues, y’know; just in case. He cleared his throat and shrugged at being asked to pick a favourite.

“Feh, the only reason ah chose Keystone wuz because it’s right near the base fer when ah have tae get back.” He murmured, sounding and feeling pretty normal again. “And tae gi’ you a look around the place for the first time since ferever, if yer int’rested.” He sat on the edge of his bed and turned towards Owen, checking his response. He seemed pretty game to the idea so far, at least, so Evan continued.

“Now, ah dinnae really have a favourite place,” he confessed, “But that one on the corner opposite that Chinese place Mick an’ James’re banned from, that’s awright.” He grabbed what he needed in his pockets and then picked up a transporter lens; smaller than the mirror gun for civvy excursions and no less effective for it. He activitated it, pointing the lens at an opposite wall, before turning to Owen and smiling.

“Well are you game or not?”

It was all so deceptivelynormalit was still hard to believe at times. Learning that crooks, criminals, and villains walked among them on the street everyday had been a shock, and that was still a little fresh in his mind. Laying his jacket over a chair, he shoved his scarf into the pocket, almost wishing he could wear it but not at all in the mood for the attention it would call to them.

“Yeah, I’m game,” he said with a smile. “Also, James and Mick banned? that’s a story you’ve got to tell me.”

He clapped the other man on the shoulder, staying close to him as they passed through the ‘portal’. Mirror Master was a damned good person to have on your side, that was for sure…And Evan McCulloch was a damned good friend. No one could dare say otherwise.

Chris Evans and foods in What’s Your Number?

Fri, 28 Sep 2012 09:43:24 -0500

Chris Evans and foods in What’s Your Number?

Brig Break and Beers

Thu, 27 Sep 2012 07:43:00 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

howzitgaun:

Evan hurled a pillow at Owen, yelling “Ah, shut up man!” as he did it, but the bridge of his nose and the areas under his eyes flushed scarlet anyway. His stomach had dropped a notch when Owen had complimented him, but it vaulted back up when he offered coffee. He didn’t want to release this rogue Rogue back into the wild for him to disappear off the radar again, so prolonging that in any way sounded good. Owen was a notorious traveler, and judging what he’d said about his allies last night he seemed to be in one of his restless moods, so for all Evan knew he could he on the other side of the world in a week. For some reason, that made him sad.

He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it took with a little shake of his head; he must still be tired. It made literally no nevermind to him, after all; he could go anywhere in the world in a minute. It wasn’t like he needed him around… Jesus, he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to slow down, focus on the present: coffee with Owen. Also: still in his pants.

“Yeah, yeah ah could do with a pot of tea,” he said, swiveling around onto his feet and tapping Owen on the shoulder. “Just gi’ me a sec tae wash; ah’m guessing you dinnae want t’be seen out with a tink.” He hopped to his shower, grabbing some fresh clothes off his shelves. The door shut behind him. Seconds later he opened it again.

“Um, just a thought; not to get too personal or naething but… yer clean, right? Ah know ah’ve been with prossies before, but ah get myself checked, and ah am, so…” He had no idea how to finish that sentence, so he rubbed his neck, went redder and started another one. “It’s mah fault ah didnae ask beforehand, but… ah got a bit carried away… yer pretty good, y’knaw.”

“I would have told you if I wasn’t,” he assured. “Even tipsy I’m more considerate than that.” He chuckled and smiled, giving the other a thumbs up and a smile. “Go shower off. You dunnah have cooties.” He blinked…then laughed. “DAMN you, bringin out my accent.” He threw a sock at the door, chuckling as he flopped back on the bed.

Lacing his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling and just…thought for a while. He’d been trying to find his place in the world, and it was still just damned near impossible. The Outsiders had been okay to a point, but then Batman had to stick his nose in it and treat him like dirt. Then there was the Suicide Squad and Checkmate. But…Something about them made him nervous. Any group that would try to control weaponize Chemo wasn’t as “good” as they claimed.

Plus there were turncoats in the group who tried to kill him. Kind of a big mark in the not a good thing roster.

And then there were the Rogues. Len had seemed pretty okay with allowing him in when he’d first come on the scene and taken the name. Mark and Mick had followed suit easily. Axel was a little dick and didn’t get an opinion. And then there was Evan. Sometimes surly, always feisty Evan.

“I could be a Rogue,” he told himself. And even as he thought about it, he smiled.

Having been reassured and shooed away, Evan got into the shower, twisting the temperature gauge in that weird way so the water came out right. Shit, he probably should’ve told Owen about that. Oh well, next time. As the water drummed on his back he stretched languidly, feeling a lot of the leftover tension in him leave. Last night and this morning had really done a number on his stress levels. Sure, they hadn’t exactly been a magic bullet, but more of the same, and he might feel that buzz again.

‘Buzz’. Thinking that word made him freeze mid-soaping. Alcohol gave him a buzz, coke had given him a buzz. Sex didn’t. And yet, it had naturally sprung to mind when he thought about Owen. He smiled to himself. Guess he was pretty damn good then. He finished showering and splashed his face in the sink, checking himself out in the bathroom mirror. Not even 5 o’clock shadow; thank Christ his cowl looked proper stupid with any sort of facial hair. Oh, and speaking of the cowl, and covering… Owen made his presence known on his throat. Okay, he’d have to wear cowl or scarves around the guys then, but he’s worry about that when he returned home… to the base, at any rate.

A t-shirt and jeans were sloughed on, and hair was brushed quickly out of habit. Socks were found and Evan got his head together. Opening the door again, he stepped into his room to hunt for shoes.

“You got everything you need?” he called over one shoulder, before taking advantage of his vantage point as Owen got up and turned round to check him out just a little. “If so, let’s go. You got anywhere in particular in mind? Hey, wannae go visit Keystone?”

Owen sat up quickly when he heard the door open, smiling a bit at the other man He had to admit, seeing him made him feel good. And seeing him HAPPY made him feel better. He hopped up, finding his boots from where ever he’d kicked them off last night.

“That sounds good,” he agreed with a nod. “Keystone’s got a lot of good places. Central has more, but they’re mostly the same chain aren’t they? Some yuppie place.” He shrugged, contemplating his coat before deciding against it. It was a little distinctive, and he didn’t want to cause a stir just getting a stinkin cup of coffee.

“I don’t have any particular favorite, what about you?” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, shifting his weight a little. Sometimes he had that speedster itch, the inability to be still for too long. He fought it well enough, just made him fidget at times.

Brig Break and Beers

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 15:00:20 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

howzitgaun:

“Oh yeah?” said Evan, rolling over to face him. Everything was fine and normal now; they both had pants on and he’d thought around the gayness. He grinned at him. “Good. Ah’m feelin’ pretty awright, too.” And he was, now that he could relax again. He thought back properly to the night before, and couldn’t help his grin broadening. How Owen had looked, sounded, felt… he hadn’t thought about someone like this in… a while, to say the least. He was almost sad that it was over. Except it wouldn’t be, because of his genius plan.

“Ah think we both needed that, right?” he said, sitting up in bed, letting the duvet fall away from his chest and pool in his lap. “So… ah wuz thinkin’… if y’ever ‘needed this’ again, you only hafta ask, awright?” He tilted his head to one side to shift the hair off his face, gingerly gauging the other man’s reaction. He hadn’t balked at the idea, so he continued.

“Ah think we… work well together, y’know? S’probably cuz we’re mates, and yer easy on the eye tae boot.” Getting gay, dial it back, dial it back. “So yeah, ah mean, if y’ever want to… y’know, ah’m available. Whenever.” He laughed a little nervously, knuckling his eye and shaking head. “Aw Godssake, ah’m sorry man, ah know ah must sound like a proper ned right now, but ah’ve never really… done anything like this before. But… that wuz a proper braw night, thanks.” He looked up at Owen, who was looking a little scruffy round the edges but no worse for it. Evan edged closer to him.

“So, what d’you think?”

Clothes situated, he moved over and flopped back down onto the bed, sitting and leaning back on his hands. Evan was down right…well….adorable, talking like that. Skirting saying he enjoyed as much as he CLEARLY had (Owen could still hear that thick accent growling out for more), and trying to establish an idea. An idea Owen loved.

“I’m totally down with that,” he said, nodding. “Beats the hell out of takin my chances with hookers.” He laughed, shrugging off a serious concern. He /assumed/ Evan was clean…and in retrospect, it would have been a good conversation to have before all of this happened. But it didn’t matter now. He laid back across the foot of the bed, legs hanging off still as he folded his hands over his belly.

“Besides that,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re a damned good kisser.” He tossed a smirk at the other man, knowing the comment would upset him a bit, but hopefully in just the right way.

“So, it’s still earlyish. Wanna go grab some coffee or something?”

Evan hurled a pillow at Owen, yelling “Ah, shut up man!” as he did it, but the bridge of his nose and the areas under his eyes flushed scarlet anyway. His stomach had dropped a notch when Owen had complimented him, but it vaulted back up when he offered coffee. He didn’t want to release this rogue Rogue back into the wild for him to disappear off the radar again, so prolonging that in any way sounded good. Owen was a notorious traveler, and judging what he’d said about his allies last night he seemed to be in one of his restless moods, so for all Evan knew he could he on the other side of the world in a week. For some reason, that made him sad.

He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it took with a little shake of his head; he must still be tired. It made literally no nevermind to him, after all; he could go anywhere in the world in a minute. It wasn’t like he needed him around… Jesus, he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to slow down, focus on the present: coffee with Owen. Also: still in his pants.

“Yeah, yeah ah could do with a pot of tea,” he said, swiveling around onto his feet and tapping Owen on the shoulder. “Just gi’ me a sec tae wash; ah’m guessing you dinnae want t’be seen out with a tink.” He hopped to his shower, grabbing some fresh clothes off his shelves. The door shut behind him. Seconds later he opened it again.

“Um, just a thought; not to get too personal or naething but… yer clean, right? Ah know ah’ve been with prossies before, but ah get myself checked, and ah am, so…” He had no idea how to finish that sentence, so he rubbed his neck, went redder and started another one. “It’s mah fault ah didnae ask beforehand, but… ah got a bit carried away… yer pretty good, y’knaw.”

“I would have told you if I wasn’t,” he assured. “Even tipsy I’m more considerate than that.” He chuckled and smiled, giving the other a thumbs up and a smile. “Go shower off. You dunnah have cooties.” He blinked…then laughed. “DAMN you, bringin out my accent.” He threw a sock at the door, chuckling as he flopped back on the bed.

Lacing his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling and just…thought for a while. He’d been trying to find his place in the world, and it was still just damned near impossible. The Outsiders had been okay to a point, but then Batman had to stick his nose in it and treat him like dirt. Then there was the Suicide Squad and Checkmate. But…Something about them made him nervous. Any group that would try to control weaponize Chemo wasn’t as “good” as they claimed.

Plus there were turncoats in the group who tried to kill him. Kind of a big mark in the not a good thing roster.

And then there were the Rogues. Len had seemed pretty okay with allowing him in when he’d first come on the scene and taken the name. Mark and Mick had followed suit easily. Axel was a little dick and didn’t get an opinion. And then there was Evan. Sometimes surly, always feisty Evan.

“I could be a Rogue,” he told himself. And even as he thought about it, he smiled.

Brig Break and Beers

Tue, 25 Sep 2012 14:18:36 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

howzitgaun:

“No, ah don’t mind, go ahead. It’s the door with the towel on it, there’s a clean one in the- here, ah’ll just get it for you.” Evan was getting out of bed when the sensible part of his brain bitchslapped the rest of him with that terrible fact: you’re still naked. Oh God, what did he do now? Just keep going? Owen had already seen him in the buff, but somehow that didn’t seem like the right move. Maybe it was the fact that every partially awake fibre in his body was screaming that that was a bad idea. He froze. Oh great, now he looked even worse: indecisive and shit-scared of interacting with Owen. As he panicked in his mind, his eyes fixed on his salvation. Boxers in a heap on the floor at his feet. Tartan. Unambiguously his.

Swiping them up with one hand and putting them on quickly he got up to get Owen a towel from the linen closet, chucked it at him and then flopped back down in bed, trying to make it look entirely coincidental that he had fallen facing the opposite way to his bathroom. He didn’t move until his heard the sound of the shower, at which point he rolled onto his back and sighed heavily. What the fuck was he going to do now?

Okay, examine the facts. He had seen Owen for the first time in ages, gone to a bar with him, almost cried on him, then brought him home and shagged/been shagged by him. And it had felt great. Not just the sex, but the sense of release of having that person there. Someone he actually… talked to. Properly. Just… why did he have to be a fucking guy?! Evan groaned outloud, real panic gripped the insides of his throat. He didn’t want to enjoy this, it made him like…

This was different. A tiny voice at the back of his mind offered. This was between adults and this was consensual. You don’t have to be afraid of yourself.

He wished he could believe that thought, but years of turning the same events over and over in his mind and googling the after-effects of abuse had left him fearful and paranoid. So he couldn’t allow himself to be gay, or in a gay relationship, or… did it have to be a relationship? He considered the facts again. The things he’d liked most; sex and banter, they didn’t necessarily constitute a relationship. No, that was more like friends with benefits. There. They were just mates, who… understood each other’s physical needs. They weren’t gay, they were just… resourceful. Making the most of what could have been a one-night stand by going to each other when they needed it, because they already had a head start on what the other was into.

He grinned to himself. He felt like a genius. Now all he had to do was clear it with Owen and he was plain sailing again.

Owen saw the fidgeting, and reeeaally hoped that the other man would be able to get by all of this. He knew he sure as hell had a lot of thinking of his own to do. Taking the towel, he picked up his shorts and jeans, half jogging to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

He dropped his things on the floor and jumped in cold, almost yelping at the temperature of the water. Try as he might, it was either too hot or too cold. Whatever, he’d just make it quick. Which sucked, cuz that meant he had to go face Evan again sooner…So maybe he’d take a liiiitttle more time.

Rubbing dried sweat and hell knew what else off his chest, Owen too took a second to reflect on the previous night. They’d had sex (a LOT of sex), and it had been damned good. He’d wanted to explore ‘relations’ with another man, but he’d never really had someone he was comfortable enough with to manage it. A few beers seemed to have done the trick for them, though, not that he was complaining. And he had to admit…he felt pretty damned good. He hadn’t had a decent lay in too damned long, and Evan seemed similarly deprived.

Soooo maybe this was a good thing?

Scratch that, this WAS a good thing.

Shutting the shower off, he toweled off quickly and pulled his boxers and jeans on. He gave his hair a good scrub with the towel to dry it out a bit, then checked himself in the mirror. His cheeks were a little rough, but not too bad. Scratching his goatee, he hung the towel up someplace and stepped back out in the room.

“Don’t mind tellin ya,” he said, walking back to where he’d left his own jacket and shirt the night before. “I feel like a new man.”

“Oh yeah?” said Evan, rolling over to face him. Everything was fine and normal now; they both had pants on and he’d thought around the gayness. He grinned at him. “Good. Ah’m feelin’ pretty awright, too.” And he was, now that he could relax again. He thought back properly to the night before, and couldn’t help his grin broadening. How Owen had looked, sounded, felt… he hadn’t thought about someone like this in… a while, to say the least. He was almost sad that it was over. Except it wouldn’t be, because of his genius plan.

“Ah think we both needed that, right?” he said, sitting up in bed, letting the duvet fall away from his chest and pool in his lap. “So… ah wuz thinkin’… if y’ever ‘needed this’ again, you only hafta ask, awright?” He tilted his head to one side to shift the hair off his face, gingerly gauging the other man’s reaction. He hadn’t balked at the idea, so he continued.

“Ah think we… work well together, y’know? S’probably cuz we’re mates, and yer easy on the eye tae boot.” Getting gay, dial it back, dial it back. “So yeah, ah mean, if y’ever want to… y’know, ah’m available. Whenever.” He laughed a little nervously, knuckling his eye and shaking head. “Aw Godssake, ah’m sorry man, ah know ah must sound like a proper ned right now, but ah’ve never really… done anything like this before. But… that wuz a proper braw night, thanks.” He looked up at Owen, who was looking a little scruffy round the edges but no worse for it. Evan edged closer to him.

“So, what d’you think?”

Clothes situated, he moved over and flopped back down onto the bed, sitting and leaning back on his hands. Evan was down right…well….adorable, talking like that. Skirting saying he enjoyed as much as he CLEARLY had (Owen could still hear that thick accent growling out for more), and trying to establish an idea. An idea Owen loved.

“I’m totally down with that,” he said, nodding. “Beats the hell out of takin my chances with hookers.” He laughed, shrugging off a serious concern. He /assumed/ Evan was clean…and in retrospect, it would have been a good conversation to have before all of this happened. But it didn’t matter now. He laid back across the foot of the bed, legs hanging off still as he folded his hands over his belly.

“Besides that,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re a damned good kisser.” He tossed a smirk at the other man, knowing the comment would upset him a bit, but hopefully in just the right way.

“So, it’s still earlyish. Wanna go grab some coffee or something?”

kylewithenvy: Art of the Day: A catalogue of red: Guy Gardner,...

Mon, 24 Sep 2012 16:46:43 -0500

kylewithenvy:

Art of the Day: A catalogue of red: Guy Gardner, Owen Mercer, Roy Harper, Wally West, Jason Blood, Kate Kane, Babs Gordon, Pamela Isley.

- Kyle Rayner

howzitgaun: dekutree: i hate when people pour my cereal they don’t know the amount of milk i...

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 10:04:40 -0500

howzitgaun:

dekutree:

i hate when people pour my cereal

they don’t know the amount of milk i like

they don’t know how much cereal i want

they don’t know me

they don’t know my life

they don’t know what i been through

^Accurate

Brig Break and Beers

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 20:06:19 -0500

howzitgaun:

boomerangjr:

howzitgaun:

Evan stirred to the sound of faint murmuring behind him. Eyes still closed, he woke up gradually inside his own head, taking in his surroundings by touch and sound. He was leaning against a warm body, with its arm wrapped round him. A drowsy body nestled gently against him, probably still dreaming. Huh, must’a dozed off on the sofa again. It wasn’t unusual for him to crash out at the base after a job and a drink, so this was nothing new. Whoever he was slumped against was taller than him, so it must be Mick. He smirked to himself. He’d tease him about the arm thing later.

Slowly, he stretched out. Okay, that was weird; his feet hadn’t hit the end of the ancient couch. Dismissing it as his legs still being asleep, her rolled to where he was sure to connect with the back of the sofa, and was taken completely by surprise when he kept rolling and faceplanted into a soft pillow. What the fuck was going on? It was then that his mind grasped the brevity of another fact. The arm- that he had just unintentionally steamrollered- was bare. Mick hardly ever wore t-shirts. Perhaps more worryingly, the chest he had been leaning on was bare too.

His eyes snapped open, revealing the person waking up next to him to be Owen and bringing the memories of last night flooding back. Not before he’d opened his mouth, of course. He wasn’t sure what the standard decorum was on what to say to your teammate the morning after the two of you had shagged, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t, “Thank Christ yer not Mick!”.

He flushed a bit at that, embarrassed by his own total lack of tact. But it wasn’t his fault; this was a situation he had literally never been in before, just how the fuck was he supposed to react? Casual? Teasing? Lovey-dovey? Probably not the last one, but “awkward madlibs” wasn’t exactly the best route to take either.

“Erm, sorry about that,” he mumbled, clearing his throat to sound more manly, “Ah thought ah’d crashed on the basement couch again… Not that they’ve ever… and ah’ve never…” his words ground to a halt as his thoughts caught up with him. Owen’s still naked. Ah’ve seen Owen naked. Owen’s seen me naked. Ah fuck, ah’m still naked.

Quickly, he rustled some duvet around him to create a sort of protective cocoon against nudity and awkwardness. Once he’d finished doing that, he realized that Owen had just been staring at him the whole time. Shit, wasn’t he meant to be saying something to him? He racked his brain for the most neutral thing to say.

“So… did you sleep awright?”

Owen stared at Evan for a moment once the other woke up and LOOKED at him. No doubt the other man had the sa-…Ok that was actually hilarious. He’d thought he was Mick? MICK of all people. Seemed insane, but there it was. Aw well that was a story for another time. Licking his lips slowly, he nodded a bit.

“Yeah,” he said. “I did…” He didn’t know what to say or do after that. Rested up, he could have gone for MORE of the same, but…well the way Evan kind bundled up and moved away from him, that seemed out of the question. Alright, try not to make it too awkward. Clearing his throat, he sat up and yawned, mussing his hair a bit. He licked his lips again, catching a taste lingering there…Evan’s.

“I should ah…probably get a shower,” he said, glancing at the other man. “Don’t mind, do you?” If nothing else, it would at least give them both a little time to sort things out in their heads. Cuz he sure as hell didnt know what to do or say just then.

“No, ah don’t mind, go ahead. It’s the door with the towel on it, there’s a clean one in the- here, ah’ll just get it for you.” Evan was getting out of bed when the sensible part of his brain bitchslapped the rest of him with that terrible fact: you’re still naked. Oh God, what did he do now? Just keep going? Owen had already seen him in the buff, but somehow that didn’t seem like the right move. Maybe it was the fact that every partially awake fibre in his body was screaming that that was a bad idea. He froze. Oh great, now he looked even worse: indecisive and shit-scared of interacting with Owen. As he panicked in his mind, his eyes fixed on his salvation. Boxers in a heap on the floor at his feet. Tartan. Unambiguously his.

Swiping them up with one hand and putting them on quickly he got up to get Owen a towel from the linen closet, chucked it at him and then flopped back down in bed, trying to make it look entirely coincidental that he had fallen facing the opposite way to his bathroom. He didn’t move until his heard the sound of the shower, at which point he rolled onto his back and sighed heavily. What the fuck was he going to do now?

Okay, examine the facts. He had seen Owen for the first time in ages, gone to a bar with him, almost cried on him, then brought him home and shagged/been shagged by him. And it had felt great. Not just the sex, but the sense of release of having that person there. Someone he actually… talked to. Properly. Just… why did he have to be a fucking guy?! Evan groaned outloud, real panic gripped the insides of his throat. He didn’t want to enjoy this, it made him like…

This was different. A tiny voice at the back of his mind offered. This was between adults and this was consensual. You don’t have to be afraid of yourself.

He wished he could believe that thought, but years of turning the same events over and over in his mind and googling the after-effects of abuse had left him fearful and paranoid. So he couldn’t be allow himself to be gay, or in a gay relationship, or… did it have to be a relationship? He considered the facts again. The things he’d liked most; sex and banter, they didn’t necessarily constitute a relationship. No, that was more like friends with benefits. There. They were just mates, who… understood each other’s physical needs. They weren’t gay, they were just… resourceful. Making the most of what could have been a one-night stand by going to each other when they needed it, because they already had a head start on what the other was into.

He grinned to himself. He felt like a genius. Now all he had to do was clear it with Owen and he was plain sailing again.

Owen saw the fidgeting, and reeeaally hoped that the other man would be able to get by all of this. He knew he sure as hell had a lot of thinking of his own to do. Taking the towel, he picked up his shorts and jeans, half jogging to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

He dropped his things on the floor and jumped in cold, almost yelping at the temperature of the water. Try as he might, it was either too hot or too cold. Whatever, he’d just make it quick. Which sucked, cuz that meant he had to go face Evan again sooner…So maybe he’d take a liiiitttle more time.

Rubbing dried sweat and hell knew what else off his chest, Owen too took a second to reflect on the previous night. They’d had sex (a LOT of sex), and it had been damned good. He’d wanted to explore ‘relations’ with another man, but he’d never really had someone he was comfortable enough with to manage it. A few beers seemed to have done the trick for them, though, not that he was complaining. And he had to admit…he felt pretty damned good. He hadn’t had a decent lay in too damned long, and Evan seemed similarly deprived.

Soooo maybe this was a good thing?

Scratch that, this WAS a good thing.

Shutting the shower off, he toweled off quickly and pulled his boxers and jeans on. He gave his hair a good scrub with the towel to dry it out a bit, then checked himself in the mirror. His cheeks were a little rough, but not too bad. Scratching his goatee, he hung the towel up someplace and stepped back out in the room.

“Don’t mind tellin ya,” he said, walking back to where he’d left his own jacket and shirt the night before. “I feel like a new man.”