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"Fuck," Guy said, just before Hal's forearm slammed into the back of Guy's head and Guy's face was pushed back against the ground. At least they were in a park, so he was getting dirt and grass in his mouth instead of asphalt.
Hal's other hand was tight around Guy's wrist, pinning it to the small of his back, wrenching his shoulder out of alignment in a way that hurt so much it came back around to feeling great. Although that might have been Hal's thighs on either side of his own, or the hot, rushing sound of Hal's breath, or just the adrenaline from a good old fistfight. The power ring was something else, all thrumming and awe-inspiring, but sometimes Guy just wanted to knock somebody around a little. Or, let's be honest, to get knocked around a little.
Guy threw back an elbow hard into Hal's side, but Hal Jordan was a tough motherfucker. Not the kind of guy who'd lose a good hold just because Guy was trying to bruise his ribs a little. Yeah, yeah, Hal was a boring, irritating sonuvabitch, but he also had some pretty serious cojones, and was a pretty great Green Lantern, and Guy followed him around for a reason, even if he wasn't very good at explaining that reason in words.
"What," Guy said, turning his head enough to get some words out. He couldn't even remember what they had been off arguing about, but he had to say something. "Didn't know you remembered how to have a good time anymore."
He knew he was grinning, a little bit crazy. And when Hal gritted out, "What is wrong with you," and his big hand came up and caught in Guy's hair, pushing Guy's face down into the dirt for real this time, it didn't make Guy stop grinning.
No, instead, Guy ground down a little against the ground, and it was hard to tell if Hal's corresponding grunt was a fighting noise or a sex noise, which was the sort of thing that Guy liked about Hal.
The funny thing was this weird sort of echo in his brain, like Guy had been here before. Not having a fight with Hal, which he did all the time, but Hal atop him, adrenaline working him up to half-hard against the back of Guy's thighs. Except there wasn't the taste of grass in his mouth, nor the incipient shiner on Hal's face. Just adrenaline from a good workout and a hard dose of lust. And maybe that had happened back in Baltimore, back after they'd met but before Guy had even heard the name "Abin Sur" and maybe it hadn't--Guy's brain was mixed up enough it was sometimes hard to tell--but real memories or false, Guy liked it this way better.