Gone Straight - So to Speak
Just an odd little 'what if' scenario that popped into mind.
HotGear, M/M relationship, a few naughty words.
“Richie! You in there?!”
The door shook with the force of the knocks. Rich Foley groaned.
It was hard to believe but in four short years he’d gone from chasing after the pyrokinetic with intent to arrest to cringing at the sound of his voice.
“I know you’re in there! I can sense your body heat!”
The bespectacled blonde was already heading for the door when it rattled on its hinges again.
“Come on, I got Chinese food! I even got that Gook Ton crap you like!”
Richie yanked open the door to come face to face with Francis Stone, a.k.a. Hotstreak.
Way back yonder when they’d both been in high school, Hotstreak had been one of Dakota’s most wanted criminals. Only about a year ago, for reasons he wouldn’t discuss even now, Hotstreak had decided to go straight.
Admittedly, he wasn’t the best superhero; he still caused a lot of damage and wasn’t good at plans or subtlety, but when you needed someone to take on a Category 4 heavyweight supervillian/monster, Hotstreak was your guy.
He even tried the community outreach thing. Gear had accompanied him to a public appearance for elementary age school children. At the time, Rich had been flattered that the kids had chosen him over Static to come and even a little vindictively delighted that Hotstreak had been chosen over Static as well.
Looking back, he really should have questioned the wisdom of letting a pyromaniac try to inspire kids.
Rich remembered looking over to see Hotstreak kneeling down with a crowd of solemn children gathered around him, a single flame dancing on his outstretched finger. The pyro had been speaking in a low, soothing tone and Rich had caught something about ‘watch how it dances, kids’ and he had tried to flag down a teacher or something, but then the event coordinator had intercepted him and kept the genius busy until he had forgotten about Hotstreak’s ‘inspiration’.
At least he had forgotten about it until the fire alarms went off.
Apparently the redhead was a magnet for every borderline pyro kid in the school and once back in their classrooms, they had all set something alight.
Hotstreak had looked offended when accused of being a bad influence and had retorted with what was probably the worst superhero line ever:
“It’s not my fault fire is sexy!”
On the bright side, the papers had gotten a really good picture of Gear face-palming in horror at the awful statement.
It was, in Virgil’s words, ‘EPIC Positive Role Model FAIL’.
After that, Hotstreak had started complaining that none of the other Dakota superheroes would let him in on their secret identities or hang out with him in public, or really, at all. And Rich, being the soft-hearted sap that he was, had confessed his true identity and told Francis he could hang out with him at Dakota Technical College.
Richie had a new best friend.
Virgil was still leery of hanging out with Francis when they were both in civvies, not to mention the fact that he was scrambling to keep his grades up while caping more than ever.
Rich was breezing through his core classes on Bang Baby smarts. It was a good thing, because it seemed like Francis was at his room every night.
“People are going to think we’re dating,” the blonde stated, glaring up at Francis.
“We aren’t?” the redhead asked innocently.
Richie’s blue eyes popped wide open.
Francis barked with laughter and pushed his way inside, shoving the bag of Chinese food into the smaller man’s arms.
“Man, you’re way too easy, Foley!”
Rich groaned and shut door behind Francis. The pyro was already shucking out of his jacket and pulling off his sunglasses and do-rag. It seemed like a role reversal, but Hotstreak was so well-known from his criminal days that when he wanted to be incognito now, he had to cover up his trademark hair and dress as a totally different person.
It was Biker Frankie today.
It was . . . a really good look for him, actually.
Richie shook his head and started laying out full boxes of Chinese food.
“So . . . how are you doing? Get any good caping done?” He asked politely.
“Not really. Have you got your letter yet?” Francis asked, digging into the dorm fridge to get two sodas.
“My ‘letter’?”
“The Doom Guild is at it again,” Francis muttered, handing his companion a root beer.
“Oh Gawwwwwwwwd!”
“They tried to hook me up with some jack off with ice powers. It’s fucking weird; it’s like a dating service for heroes and villains. I don’t need some assholes with a match-up profile sending me a nemesis ‘tailored’ to my powers. I mean what the hell?”
“They did the same thing to Static. Twice. The first time it was RubberMan-“
Richie was cut off by completely juvenile sniggering from Francis.
“-and I forget the second one’s name, but he had water powers. It was something Chinese, I think.”
“Lame,” Francis growled, tucking into his sweet and sour pork.
“Yeah . . .” Richie suddenly looked thoughtful. “I . . . never got a nemesis letter.”
“Why would you want one?” Francis asked.
“I don’t . . . I just-never mind.”
“You’d like a little superhero cred,” the redhead finished, leaning against Richie’s desk.
The blonde plopped down onto his bed and picked at his combination lo mien.
“No, I don’t do it for that, it’s just . . .”
“You’d like a little superhero cred,” Francis repeated.
“A little would be nice,” Richie sighed. “I know I don’t have cool powers, just Bang Baby genius, but-“
“You think tech genius isn’t cool?” Francis asked. “Dude, you could be like, so rich in seconds and what, Static’ll be using his powers to pay his light bill? I’ll be keeping my crib warm? Maybe our powers are showier, but being smart with tech toys is cool. I mean, that’s all Batman’s got going for him.”
“Really?” Rich asked.
“Totally.”
“Thanks, man,” The blonde murmured.
Francis grunted his acknowledgement and twisted back to get his soda. Something caught his eye on Rich’s desk and he twisted his head to get a better look at it. Then he looked back at Rich.
“What?” the genius asked.
Francis set down his food and picked up a piece of paper from Foley’s desk. Rich was already up and running for it before the pyro even started reading. He recognized the pink triangle logo on it.
“Fellowship of Associated Gay Students?” Francis read, holding the flyer up and out of Richie’s reach. “F.A.G.S? Classy, Rich, real classy.”
Red to the tips of his ears, Richie fumbled for the flyer, half-climbing the redhead in his haste to retrieve the incriminating bit of paper. He was too embarrassed to realize Francis had just taken the news that he was gay in stride.
“Idon’tknowhowthatgottheremusthavepickeditupbyaccidentatthejobfairsillymeI’dlosemyheadifitwasn’tattached!” Rich blurted, scrambling for the flyer.
Francis held it easily over his head, flipping it open with one hand and reading the contents.
“Monthly discussion panels on gay rights . . . need volunteers for advice hotlines . . . group therapy for discriminatory stress . . . man, this shit’s boring. Why don’t they have like, meet and greets and sweaty, shirtless raves? That would up the membership.”
“W-what?!” Richie gasped.
“Or, like how about how Dancers charges you $6 a drink for the all male revue, but they only charge $4 when the female strippers are on stage? That’s fucking discrimination. I should totally torch that place.”
Richie blinked. He blinked again, staring up at the pyrokinetic in shock.
“You’re gay, too?!”
“Yeah, I just left my toy poodle and my ascot in my other pants,” Francis grinned down at Richie. “So you’re queer, too, huh? Got a boyfriend?”
The blonde goggled at his fellow hero. It finally sunk in that hey, Francis was gay too right around the time he realized he was still plastered to the front of the larger man. A hot blush hit his cheeks and he slid uncertainly away from the redhead.
“Uh . . . . um . . . no, I’m - I’m not really-“
“You’re still in the closet?”
“Yeah. I mean . . . I want to be out, but . . . I don’t know how people will take it. And my parents; oh no way I could tell them. I’ll come out of the closet when I can sidle out quietly and no one will notice.”
“Dude; you’ve got a full ride scholarship which they can’t take from you for being gay. It’s not like you owe your parents anything,” Francis sneered.
“They’re still my parents!” Richie snapped. “I’d kind of like to keep the ultimate disappointment secret from them. And Virg . . . I’ve known him for years; how’s he gonna feel if I tell him now that I’m gay? It’ll be all weird.”
“Well,” Francis sighed, pushing away from the desk and sitting down next to the smaller man. “Maybe - just maybe your friends won’t care. Maybe they’ll like you anyway; did you ever think of that?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for, but I was hoping to be a really kick-ass superhero, too and I’m like, a D-lister,” Richie muttered.
“Aw, c’mon, you aren’t a D-lister . . . like C-list at the very bottom . . .” Frankie tried.
“Wow, I’m totally cheered up thanks so much man you’re my best bud,” Rich said in a flat monotone.
“Ahhh, I’m not good at this social interaction crap,” the redhead growled.
“I noticed,” Rich admitted with a rueful grin.
“I am a really good kisser, though.”
“Huh?”
No sooner than this eloquent inquiry passed Richie’s lips than he found them claimed in a heated kiss. The tech genius squealed into Francis’s mouth as he was pressed back onto his narrow bed. His thoughts went a million miles an hour, slamming into and over each other as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
‘Oh my God, Francis is kissing me! I always thought he was straight; he used to hit on girls in school, of course I did too because I wanted to look normal, omigod, binoculars at a swim meet? I can’t believe no one called me out on that one; I was trying way too hard maybe Francis was too he is good at this. Oh hell yeah; no longer any doubt of the personal gayness. Shit, he’s hot too; no pun intended. Knowing my shitty luck we’ll get a call and I’ll have to go out in Kevlar/Spandex with a hard on.’
Right on cue, Backpack started beeping.
Both metahumans broke the kiss groaning with disgust.
“Static can handle it, right?” Hotstreak asked.
Richie’s Shock Vox squawked for attention.
“Gear, can you get that?” Virgil’s voice asked. “I have to finish this Psychology assignment or I’m so going to fail!”
Richie and Francis groaned again.
“He so owes you big for this,” Francis announced.
“Tell me about it,” Richie growled, wiggling out from underneath the larger man.
The tech genius pulled his shirt over his head and started pulling the components for his costume out of the closet.
“I mean, he gets to stay and do his homework and you get to do his job for him,” Francis stated.
“And for less cred, too. Do you know I had a criminal ask me if I could say Static helped me catch him because-“ Rich dropped his pants and hooked his fingers into quotation marks. “’It was embarrassing to get caught by the sidekick.’ Prick.”
“Complete prick. Nice underwear, by the way,” Francis said.
Richie stopped in mid-change. He couldn’t really wear civilian undies under his superhero tights, so he had to switch to tight spandex bikini type underwear. They didn’t show under his costume, but they were . . . a little revealing. And Richie was so used to piling in somewhere with Virgil and changing in a flurry of elbows and cloth that he had just stripped down right in front of Francis.
The redhead was still lounging on Richie’s bed, propped up on one elbow and obviously enjoying the view.
“RubberBand Man can get it, can’t he?” Francis asked.
~~~~
Virgil sighed as the police scanner went off again. The cops had said that RubberBand Man had showed up on the scene, but there was no sign of Gear. It was probably true that RB Man could handle it, but it was odd that Richie hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t answered his Shock Vox, either.
“Richie? You okay, man?” Virgil asked the communicator.
When his friend’s breathless, gasping voice came across the line, for a moment the electrically-charged hero thought Richie was captured or hurt or both.
“I am . . . RIGHT in the middle of getting laid here,” Rich yelled. “If you can’t get off your ass to get the damn bad guys, I will go kick their asses and then I will come and kick yours!”
“Uh . . no, it’s fine!” Virgil squeaked, holding up a hand in supplication even though Richie couldn’t see it. “Just making sure you’re alive.”
“Thanks for the sentiment,” the tech genius panted. “Busy now, please to go away.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Hotstreak’s voice added. “Babe, get that cute little ass back in bed.”
As the communicator cut off abruptly - but not abruptly enough! - Virgil reflected that some things couldn’t be un-heard..