I dedicate this piece to the freakishly retarded bird that sits in the tree outside my window and sings every night at 1 in the morning for approximately 40 minutes…every night. It only sings at night; it's not an owl. It's just…so very stupid.
If they're Young Justice, would that make the others Old Justice? Hm…
Warning: Old Justice people love
Disclaimer: Young Justice and its characters aren't mine, but I claim rights to the term 'Old justice people love'. Also, the middle name 'James' is co-owned by me and Toadflame.
The sun was bright in the skies of Star City. A cool breeze blew through the bustling city, a sign of the winter to come. Still not quite time, the birds native to that area were not deterred by the as of yet gradual climate change. The birds flitted through the skies and perched along trees, buildings, and electric lines, letting out their songs.
Oliver was desperately tempted to shoot them all. Yet at the moment, that was too much effort.
Sunlight peeking through the drapes of floor to ceiling windows, his house seemed vast and empty. It was definitely too big for one person, and his bed was way too far away for him to get to without someone carrying him. Unfortunately, no one had stuck around long enough for him to subtly get that point across. If the sun hadn't been so darn bright, he might have deluded himself into thinking his home wasn't quite so large and mustered the will to get to his room. Of course, this wasn't the case. That couch was old and liable to make his back ache more, but it was better than making that long journey to the stairs, up the stairs, down the hall…he was getting even more exhausted just thinking about it.
Ollie only paused long enough to remove his bow and quiver from his back before collapsing onto the corner of the long, L-shaped sofa. He groaned appreciatively, finally off of his feet without the assurance he'd have to get up anytime soon. That thing in Cambodia had just been excessively brutal. Let it be said once more: time-travel sucked. It just did. And it should never be mass-developed because apparently, there were one too many idiots running around who thought they were a god and could screw with history.
He moved, just so slightly to adjust his position, and his muscles let him know that was a bad idea. Oh, yeah; he was so sleeping through that board meeting later. It's not like anything important was going to happen. Beside, Bruce did it all the time. In fact, he'd take a pre-nap, just to ready him for the main one. Peeling his mask off and letting it drop, he draped his arm across his eyes to banish the light.
Soft clicks echoed across the hardwood floors in the hall. The steady click-clack beat paused at the doorway where a moment passed as the steps grew louder. With each click, Ollie felt just a little less tired – ah, the delusions of the mind. The footfalls muted as the woman sauntered onto the thick, plush carpet that Ollie's couch rested on. They stopped. A finger poked his forehead, tapped it twice.
"Hello, Di," he breathed.
"Technically, with all the time jumping, it was three."
"Aw," Dinah perched along the back of the couch by his head and smoothed his hair away from his face. "Poor old man," she grinned and patted his cheek.
"I'm not old," he growled, swatted her hand away with the one not over his face. "What, you and Artemis out to make me feel worse about my life now?"
"Psh. Like I haven't heard that one before."
"Someone's grumpy without his beauty rest, isn't he?"
"Better believe it, babe. We can't have you running around with an ogre."
"You're not an ogre," Dinah lifted his arm away from his face, and he squinted up at her as the light blinded him. The little men in his head had picked up a few jackhammers, but even they paused a moment to let out a few wolf whistles: the woman had a beautiful smile to go with that gorgeous face.
Balancing carefully, she graced his nose with a light kiss. Interesting; it truly seemed like the little men were packing it in for today.
"You're a fairy," she amended cheekily.
His eye twitched.
"You enjoy picking on me way too much. It's bad for my self-esteem."
He feigned wounded and puppy dog eyes. Naturally, she saw through all that nonsense.
"Great for your ego though."
"You know what's really good for my ego?"
Oliver reached a hand toward her face, and she needed no further prompting. Sliding down to sit on the couch properly, she placed her hand around his wrist as the kiss went on. Resting his weight on one arm, his rough, calloused hand gently cupped her cheek. They only parted once they remember breathing wasn't optional.
Dinah did something that dangerously resembled a breathless giggle. "That's good for anyone's ego."
She drew her legs onto the couch, letting brown, peep-toed shoes dangle off. Still in possession of fair lady's hand, he glanced at the three-inched, pointy heeled things. How did women walk in them? His gaze traveled further up to jean-clad legs to a stylish top that matched her shoes. He smirked, his own brown eyes lingering at that point a moment longer than polite. Farther up, his lazy look over ran back to that deceptive face of an angel, still breathing a little heavy from their kiss.
She arched a slim brow. "Yes?"
"Your nails are green."
Both on her finger nails and toes. A deep, foresty green, too. He found that adorable; his girl was such a girl sometimes.
"Very good!" she reached for his face and wiped lip gloss off of his lips, "Tomorrow, we'll work on your shapes."
He snorted a laugh and kissed what-just-so-happened to be the third finger of her left hand.
"Bite me," he said.
Dinah brought their joined hands to her mouth and did as she was told.
She laughed at him as he rubbed his abused hand.
"You're in a good mood today." Theoretically, they were better than her bad moods, but it so depended on circumstance, really. "How much coffee have you had?"
"What a silly thing to ask. I'm a woman on a mission, man of mine. You know how fun those are for me." She winked at him.
"This a personal one?"
"Uh-huh. And guess what?"
She was almost bubbly, and, if he had to guess, had at least two shots of espresso. At least. Still, he had a feeling she'd be excited anyway.
"You can help me. In fact, this whole thing may fall apart if you don't."
What's this? An opportunity to play hero for the damsel and have her owe him?
"What's the catch?"
Too good to be true. He'd probably have to move off of the couch, and that could very well be a deal breaker.
"No catch. I just need information."
She smiled sweetly, and he gave her a skeptical look. Then mentally shrugged. If he couldn't trust his ever beloved, mood-swinging girlfriend, who could he trust? Obviously not his partners. Because he was off doing his 'I'm-a-big-boy-look-at-me-in-my-big-boy-pants' shtick, and she was a mean, rude little girl who didn't get enough whuppins as a child. And really, she was a bit more like a sidekick.
"I just need to know where I can find Superman when he's not being Superman."
His brows shot way up. "You want me to blab Supes' secret I.D?"
"Exactly!" she kissed his foredhead. "You're so clever."
He decided to ignore the slight patronizing tone, and his eyebrows went up even more as realization dawned. "You're gonna try to talk to Superman about the kid, aren't you?"
"And just what is funny about that?"
"Nothing. Just don't be surprised if he suddenly hears whales dying off the Pacific Coast and flits off to save them."
"That's why I'm going to go after him while he's not Superman."
"No, you're not." He grinned at her, and it just got wider as her eyes narrowed.
She was so cute when she was threatening him with her eyes.
"And why not?"
"You don't know who is."
"But you do," she tapped his forehead, "and you are going to tell me, Oliver James Queen, or else."
He knew he shouldn't test her when she was in her mother-mode or mission-mode. Mothering-Mission Mode, and he should really just spill his guts and say a prayer for the fools who got in her way. But Oliver James Queen was a fool indeed. He lived on the edge and loved it.
He met her glare with a cocky one of his own. He was daring her, calling her bluff. Then her look changed. It turned speculative, calculating, and Ollie got a bad feeling.
"Fine. Don't. Of course, if you don't, then I won't…" Dinah leaned down close to Ollie's ear, and with each word, his eyes steadily widened.
When she was done, she tapped his forehead again, rose from her seat, and walked a few steps away. Ollie just gaped, wide eyed and stunned. She…had not…just went there. Oh. She was playing dirty now. Pulling aces from the lingerie drawers. It was outrageous and he really had nothing to counter that. And she knew it.
Dinah cleared her throat, and Ollie blinked. He shot upright and pointing an accusing finger at her.
"You – that's not fair!"
Her hands went from hips to crossed, and she tilted her head expectantly, smugly. Ollie glared right back. That was low, making him choose. Superman – Clark was a friend and a good guy. He'd trusted Ollie with his identity, expecting him to keep it safe.
On the other hand, Dinah was Dinah. Dinah was his fantastic girlfriend and a wonderful woman. And somehow, Ollie just didn't think Ol' Clarky looked all that great in green lingerie.
Besides, it wasn't like Superman was Batman. And he wasn't that good of a friend.
Ollie proceeded to proverbially sing like the fabled canary. His name –also his mother's maiden, parents' name, hometown – Hickville or something like that, first girlfriend – he's got a thing for red heads, first job, current job, current residence, favorite food, what car he drove…the list went on, and Dinah made him go over the important things.
He was so whipped, way more than Barry was with Iris. He was firmly wrapped around her little finger. He didn't really care.
Ollie thought he should feel bad, turning his not-so-great friend out like that. But he didn't. He felt pretty good, considering his lungs were aching for air. But on the other half of that discomfort were the mouth and the body and the hands of the stunning Dinah Lance. If he was any kind of friend, Clark would understand.
All too soon, she was disentangling herself from their impromptu make out, despite his protests and ignoring his attempts to imitate a puppy dog with those sad, brown eyes. When her clothes and hair could be straightened no more, she looked at him.
"Ollie," she used her best firm 'I-mean-business' tone, but the airy gasp took away some of the authority. "I have to go."
"Do you have to?"
He didn't pout. He whined.
"Yes, I do. Conner has started school now, and he's still likely to lose his temper. Supe - I mean, Mr. Kent is going to help him out with getting a better control over his super strength."
Mm. Poor Kent. Hopefully, he was smart enough to realize that Dinah was not going to be turned down. She was a fantastic girlfriend and a wonderful woman, but diplomatic didn't really fit in. Things could get very interesting.
"Fine. Whatever." He crossed his arms and flopped back onto the couch. "Leave me for a reporter, see if I care."
"I'll be back later, you idiot."
Rolling her eyes, she bent forward to leave him with a parting kiss.
Ollie though he should feel used, being manipulated like that. But he didn't. Especially as she pulled away, looking so pleased with herself. He leaned up on one elbow, watching her walk away. It was old, and it was cliché, yet totally applicable. He hated to see her go, but…
"What if I told you I love you?"
She did a half-turn at the door. Her green painted nails tapped out a quick beat on the frame, and her smile rivaled a Cheshire's in terms of devious pleasure.
"If you told you me that, I'd say I know. I'm a very lovable person."
With a lazy wave, she continued on her way.
"Oh, come on! Dinah!" he yelled after her, "I'm an old, feeble man. You're just going to leave me to fend for myself?"
Her laughter echoed back to him, and he smiled hearing it. Honestly, that woman could bring a dying man back from the edge. Suddenly, the birds' song was glorious. The sun shine was invigorating. So what he'd gotten less than five hours sleep in the past technically three days? He'd survived it, and he was alive. And damn, if life wasn't good!
And he'd get up and enjoy life, just as soon as he got a little nap in. Stretching his arms and reclining back onto the couch, his muscles now seemed to ache from something more like hard work than the depressing degeneration of age. As consciousness slowly, gently slipped away, a stray thought flitted into his mind.
The image of Dinah hauling Superman around by his ear kept him up a good five minutes longer than he'd intended. That was how long it took him to stop laughing into the quiet of his home that was no less large but not quite so hollow.
A/N: Young Justice it may be, but these two are my favorite ship for the series, official (yet) or no. Maybe because they're more comfortable with themselves rather than fumbling around, figuring things out.
This is not a oneshot, so feel free to Alert to this.
When does not not have creamer for coffee, milk and possibly unhealthy tsp. of sugar may be used. Keep in mind you're mostly drinking sugar with coffee, but the milk almost approaches making it healthy ^.^