Chapter Text
Oliver took a deep breath, and the stale air of the cramped storage room he had managed to sequester himself in filled his lungs. He kept it in until it hurt and tried to let it out slowly. His exhale came out more forceful than he meant it to, causing dust to billow out from the shelf he faced. He watched as the dust settled back down on the cleaning products and packaged towels, trying to relax his tense muscles. His cold fingers twitched at his sides, unable to stay still.
He was NOT hiding.
He wasn’t.
It’s true.
Well…maybe he was. Just a bit. But, no matter what Dinah might say, he wasn’t running away. It had been a strategic retreat to get his bearings back. He needed some privacy to wrap his brain around the fact that BATMAN IS BRUCE WAYNE. His childhood friend, fuck buddy, undefined past relationship? Whatever! It didn’t change who the Masked Crusader was.
He remembered the day Bruce returned after his disappearance. He had called it a sabbatical, even though he had been missing for years. Almost everyone thought he was dead, and Wayne Enterprises was ripe for the taking. Bruce came back with a flourish, broader at the shoulders, with a tapered waist, and a completely different personality. Oliver thought he had hit his head, an irreversible brain injury. He barely recognized his old broody friend. But now he knew the ruse, recognized the Batman’s similarities with the old Bruce. Both identities a caricature of the person he once knew. Two extremes if combined, made a whole. If Ollie picked out all the debris, all the superfluous nonsense those two identities used, he could see him, pinpoint the too kind, too angry, too pain-filled boy he had once known, maybe even loved.
Why? Oliver rubbed his hands down his face . His shoulder bumped against a mop, causing a clattering of noise to echo in the silent room. His shoulders hitched up, he turned to stare wide-eyed at the door behind him, staying oh so still to listen for any footsteps that might approach. When none came, he groaned and kicked at the mop with all his pent-up frustration. Why me? Why did that damn Bat have to troll everyone by picking me?
In a way, it had been right up Bruce’s alley. If he was anything like he used to be, and contrary to his new alias, he probably hadn’t changed much, Bruce loved a good prank. A way to make Ollie the butt of his joke. Everyone had stared. Everyone had witnessed that the Green Arrow knew who Batman was from a kiss! The Dark Knight himself. Many had even thought Batman to be asexual, celibate, devoid of base human wants besides justice and revenge. Everyone had pitied Superman, he would never be able to get at Batman the way he so obviously wanted to. The man had no time for romance, much less knew what it was. And now all Oliver could think of was…
Images of mischievous glances, wandering hands, and pale, sweaty limbs. Whispered truths and promises left unfulfilled by the expectations of youth. Memories long ago buried, truths he never found a reason to divulge. To anyone. Not even Dinah.
He touched his lips with shaky fingers, his heart still raced from the kiss. The fluttering in his lower belly wouldn’t calm down, and when he thought of those red inhuman eyes staring at him, the fluttering turned into a lead weight that made him want to puke. The thought of facing Superman again felt like a death sentence. Maybe he should quit the Justice League. Take precautions, like lead line the Arrow Cave. A monumental task and downright ridiculous.
The door opened with a click, it sounded like a death toll.
He hadn’t heard anyone approaching, hadn’t heard any footsteps.
Oliver looked up with trepidation as Superman floated in. His shoulders were too broad, his height too tall to properly fit inside, along with Oliver, but Oliver backed up as far as he could. The selves digging into his back, his hands knocked over a bottle of disinfectant in his haste to keep space between himself and Superman. The blood drained from his face, he felt like a cornered rat.
Superman did not look at him. He turned halfway to carefully close the door, which barely made a sound as it shut. His feet landed on the floor in a feather-light touch. A heavy silence permeated the enclosed room.
“Did you enjoy it?” Superman said. His voice low, a bit shaky.
“What? No!” Oliver could feel his blood pressure rise, his fingers tingled.
“Don’t lie to me, I could hear your heart thumping, could hear your blood racing.” He looked down to pointedly stare below Oliver’s belt. His eyes snapped up to look at him in the eyes, red flickering in his glare.
Oliver stared open-mouthed, unable to form words to contradict that.
“So,” Superman shrugged, gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You really know who Batman is from just a kiss?”
Oliver took a breath to compose himself, raised his chin, and looked at Superman with determination.
“I’m not going to tell you who he is.”
“Oh no,” Superman took a step closer, crowding Oliver, “I don’t want you to tell me. Batman did this to get under my skin. Made it a little game. I probably annoyed him with my insistence on revealing his identity to at least one of us.” He paused, jaw tense. “To let down some of his walls.” He sighed and rubbed at his temples with his thumb and index finger. “I just wanted him to trust me.”
Oliver felt for him, he really did, but he would feel more pity if the man could back up. Better yet, he would feel a whole lot better if they were out in the open. With witnesses.
“His lips must have been super soft.” Superman looked up at him, his hand covering the lower part of his face, eyes still flickering red at the edges. “He clearly knows how to kiss. Based on your reaction.”
“Nope!” Oliver denied, shaking his head in the negative.
“I told you not to lie.” Superman reached forward to splay his hand on Oliver’s chest, gentle and warm, over his heart. “There’s no point in it when I can hear your heart. It’s beating very loud in here.”
Oliver could do nothing but stand there, hyper aware of the strength Superman carried within. The gentleness of his touch belied the danger sparking at the back of his mind. Superman’s hand slid upward, giving Oliver chills in its wake, to grab the back of Oliver’s neck, pulling him forward. Olivier yelped before their lips crashed together, one hand gripped the forearm that had pulled him in, and the other sought stability on Superman’s shoulder. Heat radiated from the alien, immediately warming his cold hands. Superman’s other hand pressed him closer by his lower back, hand sliding down to lift his thigh around his waist, leaving heated impressions in its wake.
Superman smelled of ozone, of sun-dried fabric softener, and of minty toothpaste. Despite the iron grip on his neck and thigh, the kiss felt soft. Then Superman opened his mouth, and ice cold breath made Oliver gasp, giving him access to his opened mouth. All Oliver could do was give in to the sensations of the overwhelming power that was Superman’s kiss. His tongue felt rough, similar to that of a cat, its cool touch prickled Oliver’s heated mouth. His body reacted with goose bumps all over, his hips twitching against Superman’s naturally hot body, causing him to moan into the kiss. His eyes rolled back when he felt himself rub against hard iron like abs.
Vaguely, he tried to compare Batman’s and Superman's kiss, but couldn’t. Both kisses overlapped, causing him to harden further. He wanted to push him away. He wanted to cling closer. Shamefully, he wanted more.
Just as fast as it happened, Superman let Oliver go, and with a gasp, Oliver stumbled back on unsteady legs, hitting the already abused shelves behind him. He breathed in a large lungful of air, unaware that this was the first breath he had taken since the kiss had begun. He wobbled, watching Superman wipe his mouth with a slight flush on his cheeks.
“Batman’s kiss is mine now.” Superman said, his voice rough.
Superman left his red cape flowing through the closing door like silk. Leaving a stunned Oliver behind.
Another secret he couldn’t share with Dinah.
Another kiss he would never be able to forget.
Another damn good kisser.