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"Look, It's not like this is completely my fault," Guy says once they're alone.
And that's just such a lie that Kyle can't help but laugh. If he's honest with himself he may be a little on the hysterical side right now.
A little? Guy thinks, straight into Kyle's goddamn brain and really, that's most of the problem right there. Kyle falls back on the one bed in the room, covering his face with his hands.
One bed. Marital bed, and that’s just—
“I hate you," Kyle says. "I hope you know that."
"Pfft. No you don't. You're annoyed, but you don't hate me," Guy says, sounding and feeling so fucking smug, like being hardwired directly into Kyle's head is some sort of new party trick he's learned.
"No, this is me loathing you, I promise."
The bed shifts under him as Guy sits down.
"Don't you think you're over-reacting a little here?" Guy asks, and Kyle's surprised to find that he's serious.
He takes his hands off of his eyes so he can look at Guy. He's sitting on the end of the bed, looking down at the floor. It's not completely like mind reading, this connection, at least not in any way that Kyle's ever experienced. He can't hear every single one of Guy's thoughts (thank God) just the strongest ones, and the ones that Guy specifically wants him to hear, but he can tell what he's feeling. Right now he's mostly worried.
"You're worried," Kyle points out.
"You're mad at me," Guy says, pouting.
"Well that's because this is entirely your fault."
“If they don’t want you to walk on the grass on this planet they should put up signs!”
Kyle stares at him. Unbelievable. “There were signs! There were signs everywhere! They all clearly said “Do not trespass on ceremonial grounds!”
“In Alien!”
“Besides the fact that our guide repeatedly told us not to walk through the ceremonial grounds, what the hell do you think your ring is for? Decoration?”
Guy turns and glares at Kyle. “I don’t have time to ask the damn ring about every little thing I do. Besides, it’s not like it’s a big deal.”
Kyle’s a little shocked to find that Guy’s not just saying that and pretending to not give a damn, he can feel that he really isn’t all that worried about the situation. At all. He sits up and jabs Guy in the arm.
“We’re married!”
“So?”
“You took a shortcut across a garden and I had to follow you because you’re a moron and get into all kinds of trouble and now we’re married and I can hear what you’re thinking!” Kyle says in a rush.
“It’s just alien-married,” Guy says, far too calmly. “It’s not like it counts.”
“Not like it—augh!” Kyle throws up his hands. If he keeps trying talk to Guy about this he’s going to lose his mind.
Guy smiles at him, and that’s insufferable. He probably just heard Kyle give up, and that’s even worse.
Kyle scowls and flops onto his back again. “I hate you. I’m going to lie here and stare at the ceiling for a while and think up new and creative ways to kill you.”
…prissy little bitch…
“And make your brain shut up, I heard that.”
A little while later Kyle stops staring at the ceiling.
“Do you think there’s any alcohol here?” he asks hopefully.
Guy looks up from where he’s playing poker with a ring construct. “Probably,” he replies, shrugging.
Kyle eventually finds a small cabinet full of different colored drinks all in different size bottles. The ring tells him which ones will probably kill him, and which ones will just get him good and drunk. He takes the largest one that promises to be ‘something not unlike tequila’ and starts drinking.
After a while he passes out.
The alien government allows them to leave the next day, shrugging their shoulders and saying that everything should work itself out, which Kyle just knows means that they don’t know how the hell to fix it. Thankfully he’s still pretty drunk, so the thought doesn’t bother him very much.
He’s not exactly sure how they get back to Oa, but the next thing he knows he’s sitting on a stool, leaning on the bar and listening to Guy explain everything to Hal. He would kill someone for a cup of coffee right now.
“… and then Kyle got drunk,” Guy says.
He’s still a little drunk, and Hal’s looking at him like he’s disappointed about something, which is just ridiculous and annoying. Kyle thinks that he could probably puke all over Hal’s shoes if he really wanted too. And he must have thought that pretty loud, because Guy’s grinning at him.
Hal frowns. “Well, I’m sure they’ll figure it out. Have you been to medical yet?”
“We’re supposed to see Natu in an hour,” they both say at the same time. Kyle frowns and Guy rolls his eyes.
Hal looks uncomfortable. “Yeah well, good luck with that.”
Jordan’s such a tool, Guy thinks. He sets a cup of coffee down in front of Kyle.
Kyle grabs it gratefully and takes a long sip. Totally, he answers.
Two hours and an exhaustive number of tests later and there’s still no answer to their problem. Kyle has completely tuned out the conversation around him, beginning to feel like the universe just wants him to suffer, when Guy gives him a cross look and says to Natu:
“Couldn’t you just, ya know, poke around in there until you find something?”
Natu is horrified. Kyle just feels like an ass for letting himself get so annoyed that he hurt Guy’s feelings.
Sorry, he thinks. Guy doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t feel so offended anymore either.
Of course he could just be distracted.
“I am not doing invasive brain surgery on the two of you for something that isn’t life-threatening!” Natu exclaims, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing. It’s really quite attractive.
Hot, Guy thinks, and he’s not looking at her face. Kyle ducks his head to hide a laugh.
“Fine then,” Guy says once he recovers, “but what the hell are we supposed to do about this?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Natu says curtly. “But you got yourselves into it so until you figure it out you should do your jobs. I’m clearing you for duty.”
Guy grumbles the whole way out of the medical complex, but Kyle can tell he doesn’t really mean it. It doesn’t take the brain thing either—complaining is Guy’s default behavior.
Kyle claps him on the back, smiling when Guy turns on him with a grouchy face. "Look, we'll give it a few days, and they'll figure something out. I mean, it can't be that bad."
Guy frowns, but he doesn't feel angry, or even annoyed. "Hmph. Of course you'd say that, you're the one who got the good end of the deal here."
Kyle rolls his eyes.
Three days pass and they still haven't heard anything more than "we're working on it." Kyle’s getting pretty used to it, feeling what Guy's feeling, having him butt into his thoughts every once in a while.
It's not all bad.
The ‘brain thing’, which has become its unofficial name, is really helpful when they’re training the newbies. They can talk to each other about the training, plan out what they're doing and who needs the most help without having to say a word out loud.
This doesn't keep Guy from giving them hell, of course. Kyle's pretty sure he thinks of that as his primary job with the rookies.
"What the hell was that, Lantern? If you can't figure out how to use your ring instead of letting your ring use you then you may as well give it back," he yells at one of them, a little lavender colored humanoid with a bald head and large, cone-shaped ears.
I think he'll get it next time, Guy thinks at Kyle, and Kyle has to agree. Guy can somehow be terrifying and inspiring all at once.
She'll, Kyle corrects.
Really? Heh. Universe sure is a weird place.
Kyle snorts mentally, rolling his eyes and heading off to help the group working at target practice.
It turns out to be a long, very productive, day. Kyle is exhausted by the time he crawls into bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
After a while awareness creeps over him again, and he realizes he's dreaming.
The blackness of deep space is lit up with light, green and yellow, and Kyle finds himself stuck in a nightmare he can’t wake up from.
He’s gotten used to it, to the point that it’s almost okay that he’s here, watching this battle again with startling clarity, because he knows it’s not real. Even though he can’t shut his eyes to it.
Can’t do anything but stand and watch his fellow Lanterns, his friends, get torn apart by sick yellow light.
He wants to cry out but he can’t. He’s trapped again, inside his own head, as parallax uses his body to destroy.
To kill.
To—
“Kyle.”
He turns, surprised, to see Guy standing behind him, holding out his hand.
Guy smiles but he looks worried. “Come on, Kyle. Take my hand.”
Kyle takes a step towards him, reaching out and grasping Guy’s hand. Guy squeezes gently. “You need to wake up,” he says, and Kyle does.
He crashes awake, and it’s almost like he falls back into his body. His breathing is loud in his ears, loud in the quiet dark of the room, but he realizes it’s not the only sound.
Guy is talking to him, somewhere behind him in the bed, low and soothing words that don’t mean much, the arm wrapped around his stomach as much of a comfort as anything else.
He stays the rest of the night.
Kyle wakes up alone the next morning. He feels more rested than he has in months, and when he stretches, turning his face into the pillow next to him, he remembers why.
Guy. Guy came and found him and pulled him out of his nightmare. A goofy smile tugs at Kyle's lips before he can stop it, and he hides it in the pillow Guy used, breathing deep.
Once he's up and showered he heads down to the bar, Guy's good mood tugging him along. Guy loves the place and he's never calmer than when he's working here, never more pleased and content.
Guy grins at him, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of him as soon as he sits down at the bar. Kyle grins back.
You're in a good mood this morning, Guy thinks at him by way of greeting.
Slept good, Kyle answers happily.
He drinks his coffee slowly, enjoying the taste and the warmth of it while Guy works, setting up the bar for the lunch rush.
He won't ask Kyle to help out until he's had at least one cup of coffee, so Kyle takes his time, sipping slowly and doodling on a napkin.
The bar starts to fill up, and Kyle's on the far end of his second cup of coffee, a stack of drawn-on napkins by his mug and Guy still hasn't asked for help.
As more and more Lanterns file in for the mid-day meal Guy's thoughts get louder and louder, until Kyle can hear practically everything the man's thinking. Kyle's pretty sure this is on purpose and tries to focus on his drawing and not on being completely horrified by all of the things going through Guy's completely depraved brain.
This is the worst part of the whole thing, Kyle thinks. Having to listen to what goes through Guy’s head when they’re out in public. When there are people and people shaped things around for him to think about.
Eye stalks! That one has eye stalks! Kyle throws his pencil at Guy, who dodges it easily, grinning. What the hell is wrong with you?
I like to think of myself as equal-opportunity, Guy thinks back, and now he’s nodding at a Lantern with tentacle-things instead of fingers. Take that one, for example. I mean, can you imagine what kinds of things those hands could do?
Those aren’t even hands! I mean… God! I hate you and I hate your brain. “Why are we even having this conversation?!”
Kyle slaps his hand over his mouth. He really hadn’t meant for that to be out loud, but now it’s too late—half the bar is staring at him.
He glares at Guy. “I hate you.”
Guy grins. “Sure you do.”
“Gimme back my pencil.”
"You gonna get off your ass and do some work today?" Guy asks, holding it away from him.
"Thought you'd never ask," Kyle says, smiling bright.
At the end of the day Kyle shoos Guy away and closes up himself.
They've only been back a week, he notes, but it seems like the news has spread throughout the entire corps.
Kyle gets stopped five times on the way back to their apartment by Lanterns wanting to give him their condolences.
"Condolences," he says to Guy, "can you believe that?" He laughs, collapsing next to him on the sofa.
"Nobody's said anything like that to me," Guy grumbles. He's sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed to the floor.
"Yeah, well, that's 'cause I'm such a good catch." Kyle's so amused, in such a good mood that he doesn't notice for a moment that Guy is not.
Guy is annoyed, and a little upset.
"And what did you tell 'em?"
Kyle hadn't actually known what to say to any of them, just like he doesn't know what to say right now. "I don't know," he says, "it was kinda weird. I think I just said something like it isnt' so bad, or something."
Guy rubs the back of his head. He looks kind of uncomfortable, feels a little awkward, and he won’t meet Kyle’s eyes. “Yeah. Would it be so bad? Being married to me, I mean?”
Kyle thinks about it, really thinks about it because he hasn’t let himself even entertain the idea, not at all, and what would it be like?
He could definitely do worse.
“Ah… I guess it wouldn’t be too horrible,” Kyle says, surprised to find himself blushing.
Guy’s a good man, even when he’s being an asshole. He’s strong and passionate and he cares about his friends deeply, he—
You forgot good-looking. Really, really good-looking.
He’s a smug, egotistical jackass is what he is, and Kyle thinks he may just die of embarrassment. Guy is grinning at him, pleased and amused, all his earlier awkwardness gone, and it’s really hard to stay angry.
The next day Hal and John show up on Oa. Kyle feels a little bit like they’re checking up on them, out of solidarity or a morbid sort of curiosity Kyle isn’t sure. They head to the bar for lunch, settling at one of the tables once Guy waves them off. He’s working this shift again, and it’s actually pretty busy. Turns out their food is better than the mess hall’s.
They sit down once they spot a vacant table, and Hal wastes no time in starting in on the teasing.
“So, how are the newlyweds?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and giving Kyle a sly look.
John rolls his eyes, smiling at Kyle good-naturedly. “I’m going to the bathroom. Feel free to be finished with this conversation by the time I get back.”
Once he gets up Hal shifts forward, leaning on his elbows and studying Kyle in a way that’s going to make him really uncomfortable really quickly.
“But really. How are things?”
“Good. They’re, uh... good.” Kyle can feel Guy in the back of his mind, happy in that easy way he gets when he’s working at the bar, and he can’t keep the damn blush off his face. “You know, considering,” he adds quickly.
“That looks like more than good, kid,” Hal says, and Kyle always forgets how perceptive he can be when he actually gives it some effort. He usually doesn’t.
He shrugs it off, or tries to. "Oh, well, I mean--" He stops, frowning down at his hands where they rest on the table. He’s completely shredded a napkin.
Hal covers his hand with his own. When he speaks, his tone is serious. “The man’s a pain in the ass, but he’s one of the good guys for a reason,” he says. “He hasn’t deserved half the shit that life’s thrown at him, but he’s never given up, and he never lets anyone else give up, either.”
“Gee, Hal,” Kyle says with over-the-top sincerity, “you better keep your voice down, you wouldn’t want anyone to think you actually like him.”
“Shut up, kid. I’m just saying you should think about it.”
John chooses that moment to return to the table, effectively keeping Kyle from saying anything. The talk turns quickly to Earth and the Justice League, some new villain or another and Kyle halfway tunes them out. He should think about it, it’s true. He hasn’t really stopped thinking about it since the other night.
About what he wants, what he needs. How good it could be.
It’s a lot to process.
Kyle doesn’t see Guy until he’s closing down the bar later that night. John and Hal kept him busy all day, showing off the new recruits and doing a little work in a neighboring sector. It’s been busy work, so he’s been thinking all day, and he’s looking for Guy so he can test Hal’s theory when he finds him in the kitchen of the bar, walking into a wall of anger and hurt so huge he thinks he could’ve found Guy by that alone had he been paying closer attention.
“Did you have fun with Hal today?” Guy asks, and Kyle’s so confused that he doesn’t immediately recognize the other emotion that’s trying to smack him in the face.
“You’re jealous,” Kyle says. Guy scowls at him, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. Kyle doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s right on the money, though. He can feel it.
“Of Hal? You know there’s nothing going on there, right?”
Guy finally looks at him, and his face— It’s a weird mixture of hurt and anger and pride, which is so strange and so very Guy. “You were talking to Hal, and I could feel it, Kyle. Everything you were feeling. So don’t try to lie to me, and don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
Guy turns his back on him, wiping down the tables, and Kyle is suddenly very, very angry.
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” he says, voice shaking. Guy doesn’t turn around, but he does stop. “And you could’ve just asked, but we were actually talking about you. You jackass.”
He turns and stalks out of the bar, leaving Guy bewildered and shocked behind him.
He doesn’t care.
The night air on Oa is cool and crisp. He’s grateful for the way it bleeds the heat out of his face, the anger, and by the time he gets back to his apartment he feels a little foolish. A little foolish, and a lot like he’s living in a soap opera.
He laughs, dragging his hands through his hair, and decides the best thing to do would be to take a shower, go to bed, and just forget about all of it for now.
It should be easy. He can’t hear Guy anymore, can’t feel him, other than a low buzz of awareness inside his head. It might be the distance between them, or it might be the tempest his own feelings are creating; he doesn’t know and right now he doesn’t care.
The shower is hot and Kyle washes quickly so he can just stand under the spray. Brace his arms against the wall and let the hot water beat some of the tension out of his shoulders and upper back.
He doesn’t know why he’s so upset; he’d been silly to think that anything good could come of this in the first place.
To think that their good and easy friendship could become something more—
There’s a flash of green in the corner of his vision, and he barely turns around before the shower door opens, before Guy steps into the shower and pushes him back against the wall, before Guy kisses him.
There’s static in his head, buzzing loud, and he can’t figure out what he’s feeling. Can’t separate it from whatever Guy’s thinking, what he’s feeling, so he just lets the sound drown out everything but sensation.
Guy’s warm mouth and the cold press of tile against his back, the way Guy’s hands slide off his shoulders and down to his hips. Kyle’s own hands pressed between them and all their skin, every inch of it that’s touching feels like it’s on fire.
Guy kisses just like Kyle thought he would, possessive and hungry, but his lips are softer, gentler than he could’ve imagined. Kyle just lets go, leans back against the shower wall and lets Guy take what he needs.
He moves his hands from in between their bodies, around Guy’s back and Guy steps in closer, pressing Kyle to the shower wall with every inch of his body. Chest to chest and then some, and Kyle can’t help it, whimpering into the kiss and grinding his hips up.
It’s a jolt of sensation, almost too much. Worse when Guy somehow manages to get even closer, pushing his thigh between Kyle’s legs and using every bit of his extra three inches of height to make Kyle feel like he’s being surrounded.
Please. It’s the only word that’s passed between them, the only thing Kyle could make himself think loud enough to be heard. It’s enough to make Guy moan into his mouth, to make him move.
Guy drags him out of the shower, through the bedroom and onto the bed without breaking the kiss. Kyle doesn’t know how they manage it—he can’t think past anything but Guy’s mouth, the feel of their bodies pressing together in an endless line of skin. The way that everything Guy is feeling is looping back to him and through him, out his fingertips and back into Guy, a never-ending circle of sensation and emotion.
Guy pushing him down and crawling over him, his mouth hot along his jaw line, teeth against his throat, and when Guy thrusts his hips down Kyle is pressing up to meet him. Skin on skin and it’s so good that Kyle can’t make sense of it.
So he stops trying.
When he comes he doesn’t so much as black out as go into absolute sensory overload, the whole world suddenly dark and quiet.
Once Kyle manages to get some sort of handle on his senses he finds himself flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s sweaty and sticky, breathing like he just ran a marathon. Guy is panting harshly beside him, his arm slung over his face, nothing in his head but a pleased hum.
“Do you… do you think it’s like that every time?” Kyle asks when he finally finds his voice.
“God, I hope so,” Guy replies.
“Heh.” Kyle grins. He feels better than he has in a really long time, laying here and listening to Guy breathe.
Guy rolls over onto his side, leaning up on his elbow so he can look down at Kyle. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he says, placing his hand flat against the center of Kyle’s chest. Kyle covers it with his own.
“S’okay,” he says, instantly distracted by the feel of Guy’s skin on his own again.
Guy frowns a little. “No seriously, I know I can be a jackass. I—“
“Mmhmm,” Kyle agrees. He’s still thinking about sex. About their bond and what it means, how ridiculously wonderful it is to touch one another. “Do you think you could make me come just by touching yourself?” he asks, and Guy stops frowning to look at him, wide-eyed.
Then he grins. “See, this? This is why I love you.”
Kyle can feel his eyes go wide, and he’s abruptly and completely no longer thinking about sex.
“Still a few steps behind? That’s okay, I can wait for it.”
Love, Kyle realizes, doesn’t have to be an all-consuming, epic thing. Sometimes it happens when you’re not paying attention, and where you least expect to find it. He reaches up to touch Guy’s face, fingers brushing the strong line of his jaw, his thumb curving across the slight arch of his cheekbone under his eye. Guy closes his eyes and smiles and something sharp and new seizes in Kyle’s chest. He can’t say it, but he knows it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t need to.
Guy can feel it.
***
Three days later a delegate from the planet they got alien-married on shows up on Oa claiming to have a cure.
Guy and Kyle are summoned to meet with them, and apparently it’s simple, just another flip of a psychic switch, nothing invasive or really even remotely medical.
“The whole thing can be reversed, just like that?” Natu asks, and the alien delegate nods.
Kyle and Guy share a look.
“We’d uh, we’d like to keep the brain thing,” Guy says as Kyle trains his gaze on the floor, blushing. Guy looks over at Natu. “You know, as long as it’s not harmful or anything.”
She looks absolutely shocked, but she nods. “No, I—I told you that it wasn’t.”
“Good,” Guy says and Kyle smiles.
It really, really is.