[dc] 4:27
"A touch, a touch, I do confess!"
Gar is pretty good. Not that Bart has what you'd call a wide frame of reference for Shakespeare, or really, theatre performance in general, so it's more like Gar is convincing, even--or maybe especially--with a sword in his hand.
Which is, you know, partly due to Bart anyhow, because for all of Tim's kickass martial arts ability he didn't know much about swordfighting and Bart at least knew the general theory. Besides--swords? Awesome. And for once Gar and Bart managed to convince everyone else to help instead of Bart having to do every single other part just because he remembered all the lines, and Cassie was totally batshit being Ophelia and Vic is just so appalling as Horatio it's better than watching American Idol. Wicked.
"--say you so? Come on!"
It sucks a bit that this whole fight scene has to be choreographed because it'd be much more fun just going for it, but even with the moves planned out it's so much better than the last play Gar did about that dreary Russian family and their debts, so Gar owes him, totally, because it was bad enough reading the stupid thing in the first place but man, running those lines while Bart tried not to laugh every time Gar said Pischtick? Not fun.
So this is more like it, rolling around on the ground pretending to die from a poisoned blade; Bart zips to the kitchen and froths up some vinegar and baking soda so it looks like he's foaming at the mouth, and Kon snorts and Cassie groans so the foul taste is worth it to make everyone snicker.
"--come not upon thee, nor thine. On. Meeeeee."
Bart thrashes for effect a bit more but that's it, show's over, Laertes is really supposed to be dead now. Everyone in Denmark (actually, the gym) is dropping like flies, so Bart scoots over to the bench where Kon and Tim are sitting and where Tim's tracking Gar with the DVR camera. Bart perches next to him and peers at the little screen display. Starfire is still slumped in her chair pretending to be dead Queen Gertrude; she was taking it pretty seriously, which was all fine with Bart because he saw that film with Mel Gibson in it and he knows what Shakespeare was getting at with Hamlet and his mom, and Gar and Kory?
Hot.
"Tim," he says, "I wanna copy of the bit with--"
"Shh," everyone says, and Tim makes the crocodile shut-it gesture with his free hand, which is kind of irritating but Bart has a sword so he prods it just under Tim's ear and grins when Tim flips him off without turning around. He looks and there's a faint bruise just where Bart is touching him with the point of his sword, and Bart doesn't think he did that, and he leans back and looks at Kon behind Tim's back and Kon gives him the "What?" face and sometimes Bart wants to smack him. Sometimes, a lot.
He looks at Tim's bruise again and it's like, one of those things, a catalyst, and he does some mental arithmetic about who does stuff with who and how often and there's like, this gap in the part of the graph which should be, just Bart and Kon and not Tim. Which is. Not right, is it, because it works--they, Kon and him, they, um, click, connect, whatever--when Tim is there and Bart really, really wants Tim to not be there and maybe shove Kon back on a chair or something and sortof... explore. Yeah.
He looks back at Kon again because he'd zoned out on the reflection off the sword blade and started thinking that maybe they're teeth marks with that bruise and if Kon made those that's exactly the kind of thing that Bart wants to know about in filthy frontline detail, and Kon catches his eye and smiles with one side of his mouth, and Bart gets, like, tugged with this whooshy feeling and then--they're on the other side of the gym instead, on the squishy blue mats, and Kon is standing over him, looking at him with his head tilted and one eye shut.
Also he has Bart's sword tipped just underneath the hem of Bart's t-shirt, and okay, it's just a fibreglass prop and whatever, but it's the symbolism of the thing, isn't it?
"Hamlet and Laertes," Kon says quietly, "are totally gay for each other. Don't you think?"
Bart says um and some of it is because of what Kon said but the majority of the um is the fact that he landed flat on his ass and Kon is like, hovering right there and he's all sort of smirky and twinkling. Which is a good look on him, a really good look, it makes Bart's belly warm and his shoulders do that twitchy thing, but hey. The guy just picked him up and dumped him here and people are always going on at Bart about personal space, but Kon is the one who's shucking up Bart's shirt. With a blade.
Okay, maybe he doesn't have so much of a problem with that.
But he doesn't so much want to be lying here like a stuck bug. The sword has taken on this mystical significance like some kind of Navajo talking stick so he snatches that back and jumps up so he can stand on the mat to look Kon in the eye perfectly, and, um, what was the question?
Gay.
"They're whacking the shit out of each other," Bart bounces the flat of the blade on his palm, "and before that Laertes goes around whining about Hamlet to everyone, so, dude, where's the jump to fuckbuddies?"
Kon's like, grinning at him.
Like Bart has completely missed the point.
"Also?" Bart says, "since when did you do literary analysis?"
"Reading Hamlet in English--stop that." Kon looks at the blade that Bart is moving at a blur, and it slows down, like trying to cut through taffy. Bart thinks about how Kon could use that trick to slow Bart down, whether Kon would have the focus to do it. "Come on. "You make a wanton of me?" Please. They're doing it."
Speaking of which. "Did you leave that mark on Tim--"
"Yeah," says Kon, all nice and close, "you want one?"
Bart feels this flush spread across the back of his neck at that. He glances over to the others (they're are all mostly dead now) and it only takes maybe three seconds before Tim turns his head slightly, lets Bart see the edge of his not-smile. Maybe he doesn't have Superboy's hearing but Bart swears Tim's worked out his own brand of like, echolocation or something. Freak.
"Yeah," he says to Kon, still peering over his shoulder at Gar, who is looking around for the drums of Fortinbras's army, and Bart figures there's about two minutes before Hamlet does his own frothing-and-dying thing, so time is of the essence. "Do your, um, worst."
"Or best," he reconsiders when Kon curls his hand up around the base of Bart's skull, "or whatever." Kon's fingers are so long he can rest the tips of his finger and thumb under Bart's ears, in that little hollow that does weird shit to his balance, and he really wishes he'd never told Kon about that. "Oooh," he says, world spinning for a couple of seconds.
"Got you," Kon says, and he does, sounding pleased about it, his other hand pressed flat against the base of Bart's spine and it makes Bart feel almost weightless, like sortof slumping into the small space between them, but there's the sword, right? Also, participation is good, and he'll leave the obvious swooning in Kon's arms to Tim, thank you.
"Come on," Bart whispers (no-one's watching, still) and hooks the blade around the back of Kon's neck so he can pull him down. So obviously it's a token gesture, but it gets a caught sound of surprise from Kon and that's what Bart wants, and also kissing.
Except Kon doesn't kiss him; he just does everything else, like angle Bart's head to the side, and pull Bart up and into him so they're flush, neck to knee and warm and solid, and he bends his head forward so his cheek slides against Bart's, and his breath is warm and fluttery on Bart's face and it drives Bart insane with anticipation. "Kon," he grits out, the jittering in his belly spreading outwards and any second now he's going to, well, tremble.
Yeah.
"That's what I was waiting for," Kon murmurs, and bites at the tender skin under Bart's jaw, sucks at a fleshy spot and everything Bart has ever wanted to say gets stuck in his throat when he tips his head back, lost in how utterly good it feels, wet and hot and achey and Kon's mouth, god, and he shudders, and Kon laughs against his skin and works his way up Bart's throat, "just--that."
Bart seriously had no idea that Kon got off on him vibrating, and that little piece of information will get tucked away for future use as soon as Bart can get some oxygen to his brain again because he's forgotten how to breathe. "More," he blurts and Kon buries his hand in Bart's hair and sortof manhandles him around and, oh, okay, more, and it's harder, Bart can literally feel the tiny blood vessels breaking and maybe just this once the marks will last until he has the chance to look in a mirror. Except, you know, Kon is a pretty good mirror, at least; he has the right expression of satisfaction when he pulls back to look at what he's done to Bart's skin and Kon blinks slowly at Bart with that smirky glint in his eyes that Bart thinks is one of the hottest things he's ever seen. Which is pretty funny seeing he can't even really focus properly because even his retinas are on some kind of low-level tremor.
"You gonna drop--"
"Sure," Bart says, letting the sword fall on the ground, and oops, that'll make people turn around and notice, but actually he doesn't find the thought bothers him overly much when he's got Kon kissing him, properly, open-mouthed and slightly breathless, which is just as much of a turn-on as the fact Bart can feel Kon's dick through his jeans, yeah, hard, and Bart has two free hands now and plenty of places to put them. One of which is Kon's ass, because, well, he doesn't need a because, it's Superboy's ass which is probably the most gropable thing in the universe if there was such a word as gropable, which there isn't, so maybe squeezable, 'cos that is a word and well, that's what Bart's doing, and--
"Bart," Kon says, one of those words-between-kisses that sound all syrupy and thick and just go straight to Bart's dick, especially seeing Kon doesn't even bother to let go, just says his name with his bottom lip still brushing Bart's, and Bart doesn't care if Kon wants to say something because it's a perfect opportunity to push his finger in Kon's mouth and press on the edge of an incisor, let Kon's tongue slide over the fingertip and push it out so Bart can pull a wet trail down Kon's chin.
"No talking--" Bart debates north versus south, "--more kissing," and decides on north because at least that way he can push up Kon's t-shirt and get at his bare skin, and by the way Kon's shoulders twitch and he jerks his hips forward that was an excellent move, and there's more kissing into the bargain; kisses that are kinda bitey and definitely the stop-start sort, rollercoaster pressure where it's imperative to have that buzz of contact, over and over again, and Bart's starting to get dizzy with the rush of it and the vibration and the feel of Kon's warm skin when he skates his fingers up his spine and Kon clutches him, groans really, really softly, which is so unbearably sexy that Bart hears himself make a croaky noise and he tugs and then they're this tangle on the mat, breathing hard and grinning stupidly, and yeah, this would be the point where there's dead silence 'cos everyone's watching.
"Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds."
Bart doesn't even look over at Tim. He knows the expression he'll see. "For what?" Kon blinks at Bart like he's temporarily forgotten they were making out in front of all their friends, but Bart grabs him before he can turn around and get up, holds Kon's face in his hands. It gives Bart a bit of a kick watching him color up a little and blush, and okay, maybe Bart's cheeks are a bit warm too but reactions are fun and Kon's reactions are--
"For you to swoon like a girl, I think." Kon sits back on his heels and turns around and man, the fucker nods his head to everyone like he's just been given an award, although granted, everyone is mock-clapping and it's not an entirely terrible metaphor if Bart was the prize, right? Still. He kicks Kon in the chest while he's not looking and Kon falls over. Better.
Bart keeps his eyes closed and doesn't bother moving, just wills them all to go away.
"Nice, guys." Cassie. Bart feels a little bit weird about that.
"Interesting." Vic and Kory, and something suspiciously like a giggle. From either of them that's really disturbing.
Gar sounds a bit pissed. "This was Hamlet. You know, Shakespeare. Not Rent."
Oh well.
Bart cracks an eye open when everyone stops finding them interesting and bails for their elsewheres. He looks over at Kon, who is leaning back on his hands, faint pink still not gone from his cheeks, which is like, so pretty it makes Bart's mouth go dry. Kon's finding the ceiling kinda fascinating though. Bart nudges his foot up against Kon's knee. "Hey."
"Hey," Kon says, not looking away from the roof but his mouth twitching with a smile. There's a mechanical sound behind Bart's head, and he doesn't actually need to twist his head around to know that it's Tim, doing something with the camera--
--camera--
--twisted little pervert.
Bart loves it.
"I hope we're getting a copy of that," Bart says, wriggling his toes under Kon's thigh.
"Hmm." It's one of those contained sounds Tim makes when he other things to say. Bart tips his head back to look at him, and Tim's looking at them both like they're... lunch. "I hope I'm getting a private view."
Kon snickers and slants an amused glance at Bart.
"So, can I fuck you?" Bart says to Kon, totally gratified when Kon's eyes go really wide, and Tim makes a little strangled noise, and well, yeah. Rehearsal.