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This was not what I set out to write. I did not expect this of myself
Clark looks appraisingly across the room. "They're cute together."
"Go fuck yourself, Clark."
The Kryptonian rolls his eyes, sipping the Tamaranian brandy the Titans had left them a crate of after the mission, before heading off to their own afterparty. Even if they're grown now, they don't exactly want to party with their parents and mentors. Not when the Titans are energetic, filled with elation at making it through another mission, playing loud music and dragging aching bodies to the floor to dance, and the their parties are Bruce's muted jazz, leather couches you can just sink into, and quietly accepting their continued existence.
They exhausted their partying in their younger years, now it's their kids' turn.
"Damn, Hal," Barry teases. "Something getting to you?"
A loud creak follows his words, and Diana and Bruce laugh into each other's mouths as the couch shifts noisily beneath them. Diana tosses her hair over her shoulder and rises up, throwing a leg over Bruce and sliding into his lap.
His hands find her hips as she leans back in, hair falling forward again to obscure their faces as their lips reunite.
Well, Clark supposes. There might be another reason the kids don't want to share afterparties with them. Too many prying eyes over the years have taught them that.
"Yeah, Bar. My lap is way too empty, it's really bumming me out."
Clark watches the speedster's eyes glitter with drunken amusement, then widen. Curious, he turns, and snorts into his glass at the sight, relishing in the delicious burn of the brandy sliding down his throat, blazing a path down his his stomach.
"Better?"
"Yeah," Hal gasps, blown pupils staring in wonder at the Martian in his lap. "Yeah, that fixes it nicely."
"Good," J'onn rumbles, leaning down, and Hal arches into the kiss as their lips connect, hands gripping onto the Martian's shoulders for dear life. Clark smirks, tapping his fingers on the glass rim before setting his now-empty glass down, indulging himself by watching a few seconds more. The noises falling from Hal's lips are no surprise, J'onn is a very skilled partner. He can't say he'd heard of a species having ribbed tongues before he met his friend.
"Goddamn," Barry whispers, and Clark laughs throatily, clapping him on the shoulder as he raises, wobbling, to his feet.
"Ain't they a sight?" He drawls, and the speedster licks his lips, nodding rapidly.
"Sure are."
Barry appraises him, then shakes his head. "I'm going to head home, Iris should be back already, and..."
"Head on out, Bar," Clark grants, and the man leaps to his feet. He's sure he'd have been out the door already, if not for the hand that slides over his back, to hang an arm around his shoulders.
Clark hadn't heard Arthur return from making ungodly concotions in the kitchen with their available meta-friendly alcohols, but he seems to have succeeded in his endeavour if the colourful drink of suspicious consistency in his hand is any indication. "How do you think she'd feel about some guests?" He purrs, and Clark finds himself aligned with Arthur, taking deep pleasure in watching Barry's cheeks flush almost as red as his suit.
"Mera is more than welcome to come around," Barry says, voice strong even as the colour of his cheeks gives him away. "But I think you'll have to prove you're worth our time."
Arthur's eyes flash, and as the two of them tumble out of the room, lips locked, Clark retakes his original path.
The leather creaks as he plants a knee on the couch, a hand on the backrest next to Bruce's dishevelled hair, and leans in, pressing his lips to the column of Diana's throat.
She leans back into him as his hand settles against the small of her back, pulling back from the kiss with a slick sound. A string of spit connects her lips to Bruce's as they hover no more than an inch apart, and he moves higher, sucking a bruise under the sharp line of her jaw.
"Kal," she greets steadily. "Did you get bored?"
"Oh no," he denies. "You were plently entertaining."
Bruce's eyes lock onto his as he nips at Diana with his teeth, and her slap at his knee earns her another.
"People usually watch entertainment, not join in," he says drolly, while Diana watches their usual routine with a predatory, planning smile.
Clark leans in, dropping his gaze to Bruce's plush lips. "Oh, I'm sure I can manage both."
In that sewer he had stared at that cowardly excuse for a Jordan and couldn't comprehend how that could be a counterpart to the cocky Lantern he had trained. How that weak-willed wretch of a person was another Hal Jordan, but he still couldn't bring himself to kill Power Ring. It was an advantage to having access to Parallax's powers and the emotional entity's obsession with any reality's Jordan. So he made it appear as if he killed Harold Jordan and de-aged him instead.
Sinestro had...toyed with the idea of keeping the toddler, of having a Hal Jordan that he could keep to himself and away from the rest of the universe. After all that has been taken from him lately it is time for something to be given back to him. It's only the logic that it when the toddler reached adulthood it wouldn't be his Hal that had encouraged him to leave the child with Jordan.
Jordan and that love of his shouldn't be able screw the child up too badly.
(And there is a degree of something disturbing raising an alternate version of a former lover from child to adult)
