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There’s only so many frigid showers a girl can take before she goes absolutely insane from the heat, and Kole is dangerously close to hitting that threshold.
She hates California. She hates Jump City. And she especially hates Titans Tower, because it’s just flat-out absurd that a building with this many occupants in a place with record heat waves doesn’t have a more rigorous backup plan in case of power failure. Oh, sure, the generator runs Nightwing’s paranoia-fueled Rube Goldberg Saw trap of a security system just fine, but fuck the air conditioning, right? It’s not like it’s one hundred and two degrees outside or anything!
It’s driving her nuts. She’s this close to mailing herself back to the Arctic Circle in a comically oversized box— crystallized, of course, to avoid having to poke air holes in it. It would probably help with any potential shipping damages, too.
The idea makes her laugh, the sound sharp and strangled in the muggy air. Definitely going nuts. She needed to figure something out, and fast. Preferably something that didn’t involve another cold shower.
Maybe she could wait it out in crystal form? The transformation dulled her senses, after all; it would be easier feeling nothing than having to deal with feeling too much. On the surface, that sounds like a great idea— but reality is quick to set in. Too much time spent without her flesh and blood could make her really sick, really fast.
Ugh, why did flesh and blood and bodies have to be so hot?
Ha, hot bodies. It’s a goofy innuendo, one that’s definitely a stretch if you’re older than twelve and your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears, but Kole can’t help but bark out another laugh into the stagnant air.
That’s another problem. It’s bad enough that she’s currently being boiled from the inside out and no amount of popsicles and water bottles can fix it, but no, things just have to be even more complicated, because she’s out here sweating to death one room down from the guy who occupies her pleasant hot and sticky thoughts.
If she could go back in time, she’d slap herself for choosing to occupy the room next to Joey Wilson’s. Being hot and bothered by a boy’s presence is bad enough. Being hot and bothered and just plain hot?
So much worse.
Of course, it’s not his fault that being around him drives her absolutely up the wall. It’s no one’s fault, really— and the more she tries to tell herself that, the less she actually believes it. Because Joey knows he’s hot, and he’s got half the team wrapped around his little finger, and he’s a notorious commitment-phobe whose attempts at romance always fizzle out for one reason or another.
It’s why she’s never tried her hand at trying to make a move, despite how hopelessly adoring she is. He’s her best friend in the surface world, and she loves him more than she can put into words, and he’s always such a good listener, a good friend, a good person, but—
But there’s a but. There’s always a but, and it’s glaringly obvious this time around: Kole wants commitment. She wants to put down roots, white picket fences, a cat, the whole nine yards. Her life has always been unstable, and it’d be nice to have a safe harbor outside of the team and the superhero business as a whole.
Joey has his own reasons for being wired the way he is. The picket fence fantasy repels him just as much as it compels her, and she definitely gets it, don’t get her wrong, but…
Gods, why is her life such a soap opera? And why is she dwelling on this now, of all times?
Maybe the heat’s finally frying her good sense by making all that pining bubble right up to the surface. If she’s going to be hot, sticky, and miserable, she might as well be hot, sticky, and miserable in bed with someone she can’t have, right? Make a proposition, call it coping with the weather, get the whole mess out of her system before it oozes out of her pores like the sweat sticking her hair to the back of her neck.
It’s… certainly an idea. Probably not a good one, but an idea nonetheless. If he turns her down, there’s always popsicles.
She’ll live. Probably.
With a heavy sigh, Kole pulls herself to her feet and starts to make her way to Joey’s room. Her heart is racing, but the world around her feels sluggish, like she’s moving in syrupy slow motion. Maybe it’s just the humidity messing with her head, or maybe it’s the gravity of what she’s about to do making her hesitant— just friends don’t tend to bounce back from offers like this, do they?
And really, she doesn’t want to punch a massive hole in what she’s got with Joey. But she doesn’t want these emotions to fester, either.
There’s always a but, isn’t there?
She knocks before letting herself in, just to give him fair warning. The sight that greets her when she opens the door makes her think she’s the one who needed a warning.
Joey is sprawled out on the floor, idly moving air over his face with a hand fan, eyes closed and nose scrunched up in an expression that just screams I am trying to be the picture of relaxation— and failing miserably because it’s too goddamn hot. His curls are plastered to his forehead. He’s flushed, in a way that’s oddly pleasing to the eye despite the discomfort it suggests.
He is also, as it happens, completely naked. Which is, frankly, understandable— there’s only so much tolerance one can have for anything that traps heat in these conditions.
The perfect logic of it all does not, however, make the scene any less pornographic, erotic, or other multisyllabic, fancy-sounding words for sexy.
Kole quietly closes the door behind her, absolutely floundering with regards to what she ought to say next. Should she say anything at all? Should she back out entirely and pretend this never happened?
Joey waves— not quite saying hello, but definitely an acknowledgment, almost certainly clipped short because he doesn’t want to let go of his fan right now. The gesture doesn’t actually do anything to settle her nerves. In fact, it stokes the flame in her chest even higher.
“Hi,” she says, voice soft, lingering for a moment in the humid air. “Can I join you?”
He smiles, expression just as sharp as it is syrupy-sweet, and peels himself away from the linoleum to face her. “Of course.”
Okay. Okay, she can do this. She can totally, absolutely do this, and if her nerves are scrawled all over her face when she settles into a cross-legged position on the (refreshingly cool, no wonder he’s splayed out on it like a starfish) floor, then that’s fine too.
Maybe. If the embarrassment of trying to be upfront with him doesn’t make her wither into the ground first, that is.
She doesn’t know what to say. She’s clamming up, and he’s reaching for an abandoned shirt with concern knitting his brow, and oh, stars above, what does she do, the giant moron that she is?
She winds up catching his hand mid-reach, fervently shaking her head. “No, no, wait— let me— I want to ask you for something.”
“What is it?” he asks, interest piqued, shirt temporarily forgotten, and a glint in his eyes suggesting he knows exactly what she wants. He’s clever like that, and she’s never been particularly subtle.
“I’m bored, melting, and absolutely miserable. You’re also clearly bored, melting, and absolutely miserable.”
Joey lets out a laugh at that. It’s quiet, all breath, barely noticeable if you don’t know him— but Kole knows him. She knows him well enough to recognize his laughter, knows him well enough to know that his eyes are crinkling at the corners because he’s got her figured out and he’s overjoyed that she’s finally worked up the guts to ask, and she knows him well enough to know that no matter what happens, no matter how things play out in the end, they’ve got each other and she’s not ruining anything at all.
It’s funny how things tend to fall right into place like that.
“No way,” he replies before she can get any further, gesture short and trembling as he dissolves into laughter again. “I love you, but sex right now would be terrible. ”
“In my defense, if we’re going to be hot and sticky anyway, we might as well—”
“No!” He’s beaming, all too amused by her truly impeccable logic, and it’s a beautiful sight.
Faintly, what he says finally registers: I love you. The words have her beaming too, and she can't help but sweep him into a kiss before settling in by his side... and grudgingly admitting he has a point. There’s no physical contact between them after she pulls away, and yet she can feel the heat radiating from his skin. That would feel terrible; the weather has completely fried her common sense.
Still, she smiles. He loves her. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her— and swept away in her own giddiness, she's forgotten to acknowledge that!
“Hey, Joey?”
“Yes?”
“I love you too, y’know.”
“I know.” A gentle kiss, burning and, for comfort’s sake, chaste. The look on his face when he pulls away from her mouth, however, is anything but, all hunger and desire in a way that makes her want to melt, totally independent of the temperature. “And I’ll take you up on your offer when we have air conditioning again.”
“I’ll hold you to it."