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"Cousin Hal?" Harold asked when they were about an hour west of the truck stop they'd picked to park at for the night. The map unfolded in Harold's hands crinkled as he lowered it.
"Yeah?" Hal replied, focusing on trying not to kill the idiot hiding in his blind spot as he tried to get over after overtaking a slow moving piece of farm equipment.
"You and Carol are engaged, right?"
"Yeah." Hal checked his mirrors again, seeing no one to his right. But he knew that blue Ford Falcon was lurking. They had to know he couldn't see them, right?
"And you… understand women, right?"
"Uh-huh." The station wagon pulled forward just enough that Hal could see it, then dipped back. He glanced into his mirrors, seeing the line of cars behind him, then down at the speedometer, which read a healthy 55. He clicked his tongue and accelerated, the truck rumbling loudly.
Someone honked, like he wasn't already doing his best to move. Hal rolled his shoulders, because he wasn't going to let traffic stress him out. He was a superhero. He could handle anything.
"Could you teach me about them?"
"Mm-hm," Hal agreed, finally managing to get far enough forward that he could see the car and switch lanes. That was a relief. See? He could handle anything.
"And how to pick up chicks?"
"Yeah— What?" Hal whipped his head to the side. Harold's knuckles were white where he gripped the map, and he looked queasily relieved. What had Hal just agreed to?
"Thanks," Harold sighed, melting back into his seat.
"So where do you normally meet girls?" Harold asked, kicking his legs back and forth as he sat on the bed in the room Hal had rented for the night. It smelled faintly of cigarettes and was decorated in bright blues.
Hal had been hoping to sleep in his truck, but Harold joining him had made that difficult the past few weeks. Maybe he should have gotten Carol to shell out for the sleeper cab, though that'd take way longer for him to repay. Or maybe he should go down to the payphone and call a few family members again, see if anyone was willing to take Harold in. Hal wasn't equipped for raising kids, let alone teenagers, especially now.
"At the disco," Hal decided, switching the TV on and turning the knob until he got to Wheel of Fortune. He flopped back on the queen bed, bouncing Harold around.
"Oh," Harold said, like Hal had said something profound. Hal felt bad for the kid. He knew there were a lot of teen superheroes out there, but he wasn't sure his cousin was the best fit for heroics. Didn't hurt to try and help him, though.
"How do you impress them?" Harold turned so that he had one knee pulled sideways on the bed, his other leg still dangling.
"With my stunning personality," Hal drawled. Chuck Woolery announced that the current category was Phrase, and the first contestant guessed the letter C.
"How else?"
"I dunno. You need to take care of yourself. Wear a nice outfit, shower and shave, and make sure you put some aftershave on. Girls really like a guy who smells good." To be honest, Hal didn't always do all of those things, but he had an advantage over Harold. Several advantages, honestly. Harold didn't look bad, but he bled an obvious desire for approval and attention.
Harold hummed, falling backwards on the bed, his arm brushing Hal's as he got comfortable. He was still wearing his shoes, but so was Hal. The TV droned on as the sun outside sent fingers of light through the blinds.
"Within your grasp," the third contestant said, and Chuck agreed. Harold shifted against Hal, the bedspread crumpling beneath their weight.
"Can I use your aftershave?" Harold asked as he finished shaving his non-existent stubble. Hal probably shouldn't have told the kid to start shaving, but he hadn't really been thinking about it.
He passed it over with a shrug. Harold leaned in closer to the mirror, checking his face carefully before slapping the aftershave on. He rubbed his hands together first, then clapped them against his cheeks, the motion nearly identical to what Hal did every morning.
The kid's dad had died when he was three, he'd said. Hal wondered who the man in Harold's life had been afterwards. Had Helen remarried? Harold still had the Jordan name, though. Maybe Hal should have stayed in better touch.
Still, as Harold rubbed Hal's scent all over his face, something warm and heady curled in Hal's gut.
"So do you have any pick up lines?" Harold asked as they flew towards a bridge collapse that Hal had heard about on his CB.
"Now's not a great time, cuz," Hal said, trying to figure out how far out the collapse actually was while keeping his cousin suspended in the air. The radio waves would work for Harold, but he couldn't handle it by himself. Still, maybe…
"Oh, okay. You're right. We should stay focused."
"Yeah, why don't you see if you can get there ahead of me?" Hal suggested. "That broadcast we caught sounded like it was pretty close."
"Yeah, sure. Um. What should I do when I get there?" Harold asked.
"Focus on saving lives. Look around and see what you can do." Hal scanned the horizon, catching sight of the river finally.
"Alright," Harold said, shifting out of Hal's vision abruptly. So eager. Hal really should spend more time training him. There just weren't a lot of places where that helmet's powers were actually useful.
At least he provided some decent company. Hal caught sight of the bridge finally, and the thoughts of his cousin's place in his life left his mind. He did actually have lives to save.
"Will they notice I'm not old enough?" Harold asked, tugging at the collar of his shirt.
"Nah," Hal said, pulling the door open and gesturing for Harold to lead the way into the club.
They'd been in New York anyway to handle a sudden collaborative crime spree by a handful of major villains. Hal had figured that they might as well hit a disco on the way out. Harold still wanted to learn so badly from him. It was almost painful.
The press of bodies around them in the dim light was immediate, sweat, alcohol, cigarettes, and perfume combining in the stuffy air. Harold grabbed at Hal's wrist as Hal pushed through. For a moment, Hal considered shaking him off, but the high of Harold's attention hadn't quite faded.
He led the way to the bar, leaning in to order a couple of Moscow Mules. When he passed one back to Harold, the kid clutched at it nervously. Grinning, Hal knocked their glasses together, then tossed his back. The vodka burned on the way down, but the lime added a flavor that Hal enjoyed.
As always, Harold saw what Hal did and tried to copy it. He took one big swallow of the booze and then coughed loudly, sputtering at the sting of his first drink. Hal concealed a laugh, patting Harold on the back.
"You want to try dancing, kid?" he asked, surveying the room for a girl who might tolerate his little cousin for a song or two.
"Y-yeah," Harold said, determinedly taking another sip of his drink. He grimaced, but didn't give the drink back. Good. A little liquid courage could only help the kid.
"Try her." Hal nodded at a girl who was swaying a few feet away. Barely legal, if that, her makeup caked on and her hair curled and carefully styled. She looked almost as nervous as Harold did.
Harold bit his lip adorably, glancing between Hal and the girl before squaring his shoulders and approaching. Hal stayed where he was, watching. The girl smiled dazedly at Harold, saying something. Harold responded, and they moved out onto the dance floor just like that. Score one for Hal.
Deciding to leave Harold to his own devices for now, Hal wandered deeper into the crowd himself. A little flirting didn't count as anything really, so even if Carol found out, she wouldn't mind.
A couple of hours later, Hal had put away a few drinks and was gently grabbing a hot blonde's ass as he pressed a kiss to her lips. She flinched under his touch, seeming to come abruptly back to herself, even though they'd been pressed against each other for so long that Hal was half-hard in his pants.
"Sorry," she said as she pulled away. "I—I shouldn't right now."
"Come on, kid," Hal coaxed, tugging her back in. She was just nervous. "Let me buy you another drink. We can talk."
"I need to go. I remembered I have a thing— a thing at home."
"Let me walk you then," Hal insisted, sensing weakness. "It's dangerous out in the city at night."
The woman glanced away, and Hal could see her wavering. He opened his mouth to go in for the kill, only for a loud shattering sound to distract him. The blonde pulled out of his arms, ducking into the crowd, and Hal frowned as he turned to see what was going on.
Harold was on the floor, broken glass scattered around him. Had he dropped a drink? Hal'd almost forgotten about him. Since he'd struck out anyways, he approached, crouching to help Harold stand up.
"A little clumsy, huh, cuz?" Hal teased.
Harold lifted his head, eyes half shut and movements delayed. He laughed loudly at Hal, clutching at his arms. Three sheets to the wind, he stumbled as Hal pulled him off the dance floor, glass crunching beneath their shoes.
"How was the girl?" Hal asked.
"Great," Harold answered, sagging against Hal. "She let me kiss her. She said I was smooth. Like you said, Hal."
"Smooth." Hal chuckled as he led Harold into the club's cramped men's room. In the slightly better lighting, he could see lipstick smeared on Harold's cheeks and lips.
"Do anything more than kissing?" he asked idly, cutting the tap on and testing the water with one hand. Cold. Should help Harold sober up a little.
"She kissed my… Uh…" Harold couldn't seem to get himself to say it. Maybe he was too drunk to keep a train of thought.
"She gave you head?" Hal raised his eyebrows.
Harold nodded, his pink lips swollen from kissing. So his little cousin had gotten off, and he hadn't? That didn't seem very fair. Hal glanced around the bathroom, then turned the water off, shaking it off of his hand. He pulled Harold into the single stall beside the urinals. Harold didn't say anything as Hal stopped supporting him, instead unzipping his pants like he thought he was here to piss. His limp cock fell out of his pants, faintly damp from that girl's mouth, probably.
"Show me what she did, then." Hal said.
"What?" Harold asked, his pants sagging and his dick hanging out. Hal shook his head, amused, then took Harold by the shoulder and guided him down. Harold went with only a little struggle, face crumpling in confusion.
Hal unzipped his own pants, pushing them down enough to pull his cock out. He stroked it, still half-hard.
"What'd she do?" he prodded.
"She… she kissed me. Licked… Uh. I think, she…" Harold trailed off again. He reached out, but just to hold onto Hal's pant leg. Even though he was on the floor, he was swaying.
"Doesn't your cousin deserve a little gratitude?" Hal asked with an idle smile, cupping Harold's cheek as he held his cock with his other hand.
Harold blinked up at him blearily, his mouth hanging open. How many drinks had he had? His tolerance had to be terrible, but it seemed like he'd tried to put a lot of them away. He might not even remember this in the morning.
"Yeah…" After a long moment, the kid nodded, leaning in and pressing an open mouthed kiss to the tip. He drooled as he moved down, spit sliding down Hal's cock. Hal stroked at his cheek, letting Harold explore.
Wetter warmth slid against the base of Hal's cock as Harold tried the licking he'd probably gotten from that girl. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, and his teeth grazed Hal as he shifted. His ignorance made Hal feel even hotter. His virgin cousin was sucking him off in a bathroom stall in the middle of a grimy disco.
"Tastes bad," Harold mumbled.
"You're just not used to it yet," Hal laughed, sliding his fingers into Harold's hair, mussing what remained of that careful combing the kid had insisted on before they'd gone in.
"Oh."
"Let me help," Hal said, gently pulling Harold back and then guiding the head of his cock to his lips. "Open up, kiddo."
Obediently, Harold opened his mouth, his dimly trusting eyes staring up at Hal. Hal groaned, pressing in just enough to rest the tip on Harold's tongue.
"Now try sucking," he instructed, beginning to stroke himself off. Harold's brows drew together as he tried to focus, pursing his lips around Hal. His tongue pressed at the underside of Hal's cock and Hal groaned. He could fuck into the kid's mouth, could probably hold him down and fuck his throat if he wanted.
But Harold was already so cute like this. Hal could see him crying any time, if he really wanted. The kid was seconds away from spilling his whole life story at any moment and clearly wanted Hal to care about it. Drunk Harold, on the other hand, couldn't say much. Couldn't even suck right, if Hal was being honest. His teeth kept brushing against the sensitive tip, making Hal hiss and stroke himself harder.
Harold tried to take him deeper, gagging immediately. And given the amount of booze he'd likely had, that needed to be avoided, didn't it? Hal didn't want him puking on his cock.
"Stop," he said, the slick sounds of his stroking, smoothed by Harold's drool, echoing in the bathroom, the club's music thrumming beneath it. "Just keep your mouth open, okay? You're clumsy when you're drunk."
Harold frowned around Hal, but opened his mouth.
"Sorry," he attempted, though it was muffled around Hal's cock. Hal groaned and sped up, just keeping the head pressed against that perfect little tongue. Harold wavered, half-swallowing despite the mouth he was carefully keeping open.
Hal closed his eyes, focusing on himself for once. He closed his hand a little more, twisted it slightly on the downstroke, savored the breath against the spit-slicked head.
Harold made a faint noise and sagged in Hal's grip on his hair, his lips shifting. Hal started to grumble out a complaint as he looked down, only to find Harold passed out, mouth hanging open.
Hal grunted as he abruptly went over the edge of his cousin unconscious and filthy on his cock. He pulled backwards after the first spurt of white on Harold's tongue, aiming at Harold's face. His next spurt landed on Harold's cheek, then in his lashes, his hair— his face was covered in streaks of spunk as Hal panted, milking the last of his orgasm from his throbbing cock.
Swearing under his breath, Hal let go of Harold to grab for the toilet paper, only to find the holder empty. Harold sagged sideways, smearing come on the stall door, completely out of it. Sighing, Hal tucked himself away, then pulled Harold's shirt up to wipe his face with the underside. His clothes were already basically ruined.
Now to figure out how to get them out of the club and back to his truck without using the ring in front of anybody. Hal sighed and considered just leaving Harold behind. He shook the thought away— he was the only one around to take care of his cousin right now, wasn't he? He should do a good job.
It was only when he'd gotten halfway through the club that Hal remembered to zip Harold's pants back up.