stands_for_hope | The Not Quite Justice League in... The Bee's Pleas!!!

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The Not Quite Justice League in... The Bee's Pleas!!!

[continued from here]

Finishing his article, clearing everything with Keith, those things took time. That was why it took a few hours before Clark was ready to make his usual call to Lois that night. He had worried that he might not make the time window that she cleared every day to talk to him and the others, but he was proud to say that he'd left himself an even half an hour as long as everything was to schedule.

After the fifth time she didn't pick up (didn't so much as text or ping him), it became clear that things were very much off schedule.

Clark made his way back to the main floor where everyone seemed to congregate and headed straight for Tony, holding up the phone to him.

"I know we're all tired and we've certainly had a long day, but... can you find out where Lois's phone is from the number here?"

In all the madness of the day, all the fighting and the close calls and the weakness brought on by the proximity of kryptonite, he'd lost track of her heartbeat. Usually, it was simple enough to pick up over the phone once again, a steady pulse that he could find his way back to once the phonecall had ended.

He couldn't hear her. He couldn't tell where she was. And she wasn't answering her phone. She always answered her phone. He didn't want to think anything was wrong, but he wasn't naive enough to discount something like this. Not after today. Not after they'd pulled out kryptonite weapons.

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"Unfortunately, not an option," Sandy admitted before leaning back into Mike's arms, unable to stop the smile on his face from the kiss. The mask was going to become a necessity for his work soon enough just because no one would 'fear' a guy smiling like a loon thinking about his boyfriend.

"Guess I'll stay here and make my call. Be out as soon as things are cleared."

"I'll have breakfast done by then, I hope. If they don't have ingredients, I'll get creative." And he slid his hands under Sandy's shirt for just a second, a light nibble to his neck, and then he slipped away.

"Darn it, Mike!" he said, having started to lean into the touches and shivering at the nibble. It was good natured, amused, but he couldn't quite hide his pout that Mike had slipped away.

Then, steeling himself just a little, he breathed in and pulled his phone up again, hoping that he'd hear that things were going well as opposed to what he was expecting.

He was grinning mischievously as he ducked out the door, already pulling out his phone and starting to dial. His father should be awake by then, after all.

When Sandy eventually walked out from the bedroom, he was fully dressed other than his mask and he had an expression on his face that said he was barely keeping himself from laughing.

"I hope your phonecall was as good as mine."

"Yes, Michael, we're eating," Mike was saying, giving Sandy a wink. "It's not your hashbrowns, but we're eating. I'm making southwestern eggs, which could use your hashbrowns mixed in-- No, no, --Dammit, don't tell me how to cook them, it's too late for that. Yes, okay. Okay, everything's fine here, too. Yes, that was him. I'll tell him you said hi. Okay. Okay. Bye, Michael."

And Mike was laughing as he hung up. "The phone call," he said as he dished out the eggs, "was fine."

"It sounds like yours was friendlier than mine," he said, still doing his best not to break out laughing. "I don't think I've heard Ted that grumpy since the time Johnny Sorrow decided to attack while he was in the shower."

He shook his head and walked over to Mike, giving him a pat on the arm before sitting down and getting out of the damn way.

"Because not only is he tired of reporters and cameras, but apparently I'm not the only one who managed to get a date out of this whole mess."

His brows rose as he placed a plate of eggs, cheese, sausage, and salsa over tortilla chips in front of Sandy. "Oh yeah? Who else got lucky? And check this out. I found watermelon juice in the fridge. It's great." And he poured Sandy a glass to go with his eggs.

"Watermelon juice?" he asked, clearly skeptical of the idea of such a thing but not precisely OPPOSED. He sniffed the glass and, true to the name, it smelled like watermelon.

Then he shook that off and started digging in, proud of himself for not automatically starting the coffee maker. He'd actually gotten sleep. Maybe he'd be all right without his veritable IV of the stuff.

"Yeah," he continued after a couple of bites, "so, apparently, someone at Tony's tower decided to head over to meet the JSA folks, all of this happening in New York, after all. Quick trip. Things happened, discussion occurred... and apparently, Peegee's got a date for next week with a very nice young man that Ted is forbidden from threatening on account of the fact that she can damn well punch through a building so she can take care of herself."

Mike stifled a laugh. "Hey, good for them. I hope it works out. I know there's a guy in this building that could seriously use a date, but I don't think he has the confidence." And he settled himself down beside Sandy, and...

This felt good. This felt damn good. This felt like a morning routine he wanted to keep going. Breakfast together, talking, getting ready for the day...

"...D'you wanna move in together? Or... something like it? Regular breakfasts?"

It was an odd expression. It wasn't so much panic as the surprise one gets when hears something they hadn't ever expected to hear. Something they wanted, as a matter of fact.

Sandy had never been the kind to dither or doubt. He'd never had shame at proposing his ideas or making his points known. But he'd wanted to be careful, since Mike seemed so convinced that everyone who cared about him would eventually leave, to do and not say. He had no doubt Mike had heard his share of empty promises, after all.

But Mike had asked, and he wouldn't even dream of passing it up.

"Which place would you want to settle in? Or would we just... stay at whichever place worked best for our jobs that particular week?"

Edited 2014-12-18 02:18 (UTC)

"The second one." Sandy had said it better than he could. "I mean, there... I'll be in hotels sometimes just because that's... kind of how my job works, and Kitt's fast, but he's not as fast as you are, but... you're always welcome in my hotel rooms, and I usually get an efficiency so I can still cook."

And he liked this. He enjoyed being able to wake up with someone he actually felt like smiling at instead of someone he felt obliged to smile at.

But then--

"Uh. I..." Shit, why hadn't he thought of this sooner. "Sometimes my job means I flirt with people. To get information. I... I need you to know..."

Mike probably wasn't expecting the chuckle and the warm smile in response to the last one.

"Mike, I know. I understand. I was the protege to one of the world's greatest detectives. Wes had to flirt sometimes. And when it wasn't him, my aunt Dian would go in and do it."

He took another bite of his breakfast and washed it down with watermelon juice.

"Heck, do you know how many times I got to play 'lost kid' to distract some guard? It's all a part of doing the job."

He leaned back in his seat, clearly comfortable discussing this kind of thing.

"If you can stand me occasionally going bare as a baby mid battle, I can deal with the fact that you have to work cases."

Mike smiled. "I'll start carrying an extra pair of underwear and pants. I get 'em cheap through Army surplus."

And like that, he thought, he... had a roommate. More than a roommate, but what other word was there? If he'd known it at some point, by now it was gone.

"Pants are priority over underwear. And I'll make up a bag with a few things from Rick, since he's pretty much the only person who can make clothes I can travel with."

He'd never be able to thank Rick enough. TylerCo's innovations made his powers much less embarrassing to use.

"On that topic... you know I'm happy to help you on missions if I happen to be around, don't you?"

He wondered, absently, if his visions would have more to do with Mike considering so many of them had to do with missions that required the assistance of the JSA.

"I'm not just all disintegration and earthquakes."

"I know, and that'll be great - especially since you're somebody I don't have to worry about not knowing what the hell they're doing." Just going by his tone, that was something he had a lot of experience in. "But you should know that sometimes, I've gotta bust out the body armor and heavy artillery."

"I'd probably be happier knowing you've got the body armor on," he said honestly as he took another bite of breakfast. If he'd learned anything from eating Ma Hunkel's food, it was that you didn't leave a good meal go cold.

At least you didn't if you didn't like your ears stretched.

"And I'm not afraid of guns. I won't use the normal kind, and I'll try to minimize casualties, but I'm well aware of the reality of the world. I've worked with plenty of cops and each one's got a service pistol. Sometimes, it's you or them."

He had the luxury of being pretty much bullet proof. He knew others didn't, so he wasn't about to impress his rules on them, especially when they were a singular agent dealing with much different threats than the kind of thing the JSA handled.

"Yeah... So far, me and Kitt... Let's see. I was buried in sand up to my neck and was about to be ran over with a heavy dune buggy, Kitt had an EMP focused into his hood. We were both shot off a cliff with a missile. I've been poisoned. ...You get the idea." It was an interesting life at the least. "So yeah, we do what we have to. Sometimes it's not pretty. Sometimes, it's... just pretty awesome."

He was eating between statements and had already shoveled in most of his meal - and it was good, though the sausage could've matched better. He'd like it better, he decided, with chicken or ground beef or that sausage he used to be able to find back in Henderson.

Sandy ate with the kind of dedication found only in the hungry and those who appreciated the value of a home-cooked meal.

"I know the feeling."

He finished what was on his plate and washed it down with the rest of the juice.

"So... where are we heading this time?"

Please say New York. I want to show you the brownstone and your new room and I am so glad I mentioned the garage to Ted.

"Well, let's see..."

He pulled out his phone again and started scrolling through emails. "Michael said 'not Denver', so that means none of my west coast jobs can be done. I have... two on this side of the world, and neither one are particularly high priority. I have one in Tennessee and one in New York state. And seeing as how you need to get home, well..."

Mike looked up from the phone screen with a slow grin.

"Then it sounds like all we need to do is check in with the rest of the team here, make sure we aren't needed, and get on the road."

He stood up then, heading towards the sink with his plate, pulling the pans used over to start getting the cleaning up done. Mike had cooked, after all.

He watched for a good few seconds before shaking his head in wonder. "You're making me all domestic. I like it." And he stood up to place his dishes within easy reach. "And... I plan to get used to it."

Another quick hug and a kiss and he nodded toward the bedroom. "I'm gonna pack up and then I'll be ready to go. Do you need anything while I'm in there?"

He shook his head.

"I travel light, only what can travel with me. It's all in the coat."

He patted his pocket.

"And the mask's..." he wasn't sure how to explain that one. "I've got my mask, so I'm all packed."

"Mask's part of the package," he nodded, understanding. "All right, I'll make it as quick as possible."

And, really, it didn't take him long. Toiletries, dirty clothes (which were tucked into their own plastic bag), and all were stuffed quickly into his duffel alongside what few clean clothes he had. He was going to have to do laundry soon, and maybe buy a few new shirts.

Sanderson didn't check his phone or read his book. Instead, he considered which places he wanted to bring Mike in New York, which little gifts or treats he could give him that wouldn't come off as pandering or overly-sentimental or ridiculous, and which members of the JSA should get introduced first (other than Ted and Tom, who were both tied in the lead which was fair enough, given that they were father and son).

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