justprompts: It's six am. What are you doing?
Bart's stomach was growling, fiercer than a starved mountain lion's.
That's why he was up.
He made his way into the kitchen of Ollie's pad, muttering something about there not being any sleep for the "weary". As if he really classified as weary. Maybe constantly hungry, but not weary.
He trudged on into the kitchen, going directly to the fridge and opening the door.
As he began digging through the modestly-sized upright refrigerator-freezer, looking for something to make a sandwich with, the sound of a masculine voice inside the room surprised him.
"Preparing to eat me out of house and home again, Impulse?"
Bart rolled his eyes at his boss's question, and leaned back, peeping around the side of the fridge.
Oliver was standing beside the cabinet, snacking on something himself. The only light that shone in the little room was a stream of moonlight, slipping in through a small window above the kitchen sink.
"No, man. I'm just having a snack."
Oliver sighed. "That's how it always starts. Then, before I know it, you've emptied my fridge."
"Well, I promise it won't be that way this time, dude." Bart reached back inside the fridge. "I need my beauty sleep, you know."
"Beauty sleep?" Ollie snorted.
"Ohh, yeah... Have to, if I'm gonna see Chloelicious tomorrow." The younger man grinned, then moved to pull out the ingredients he needed, one by one. Except, you know, in superspeed.
Bart couldn't see it, but his friend was rolling his eyes at him in the dark.
"You know, I doubt she's gonna notice if you've had 'beauty sleep' or not, Bart."
"Hey, dude, she might have married another guy, but she totally still has eyes. She can see if I look good or not."
In truth, it hurt Bart. It hurt that Chloe had gotten married, and it hurt even more that he hadn't even known until Clark had told him. But, it was all good. He was already looking to the future. In fact...
"...Ollie?"
"Yes, Bart?"
"Do you think I have a shot?"
Oliver's brow raised. "With who?"
"Chloelicious. DUH." Bart laughed, then proceeded to throw his sandwich together. Again, in superspeed.
Then it was Oliver who was laughing. "Bart! She's not even... annulled yet. She's still Mrs. Jimmy Olsen."
"So?" The red-clothed young hero said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "As far as I'm concerned? This Jimmy guy? Totally had his chance already. And if Clark won't stop being a wuss and step forward? I think it's so totally my turn."
The taller, blonder man shook his head. "You know if Clark heard you call him a wuss, you'd be barbecued, right?"
"Whatever, dude." Bart said, taking another bite of his sandwich. He reached into the fridge one last time, getting out a can of pop. "I'm headed back to my room. Later, man."
"Don't drop crumbs on the floor!" Ollie called after him, as the speedster took off.
A few minutes later, after finishing his snack, he turned his head, and noticed something next to the sink.
With another sigh of frustration, he realized that Bart had left everything he'd used out, and there was a bit of a mess on the counter.
"Damn kid."
[ooc: FYI- The Oliver used here is no Oliver in particular, except perhaps the one in my own head.]
That's why he was up.
He made his way into the kitchen of Ollie's pad, muttering something about there not being any sleep for the "weary". As if he really classified as weary. Maybe constantly hungry, but not weary.
He trudged on into the kitchen, going directly to the fridge and opening the door.
As he began digging through the modestly-sized upright refrigerator-freezer, looking for something to make a sandwich with, the sound of a masculine voice inside the room surprised him.
"Preparing to eat me out of house and home again, Impulse?"
Bart rolled his eyes at his boss's question, and leaned back, peeping around the side of the fridge.
Oliver was standing beside the cabinet, snacking on something himself. The only light that shone in the little room was a stream of moonlight, slipping in through a small window above the kitchen sink.
"No, man. I'm just having a snack."
Oliver sighed. "That's how it always starts. Then, before I know it, you've emptied my fridge."
"Well, I promise it won't be that way this time, dude." Bart reached back inside the fridge. "I need my beauty sleep, you know."
"Beauty sleep?" Ollie snorted.
"Ohh, yeah... Have to, if I'm gonna see Chloelicious tomorrow." The younger man grinned, then moved to pull out the ingredients he needed, one by one. Except, you know, in superspeed.
Bart couldn't see it, but his friend was rolling his eyes at him in the dark.
"You know, I doubt she's gonna notice if you've had 'beauty sleep' or not, Bart."
"Hey, dude, she might have married another guy, but she totally still has eyes. She can see if I look good or not."
In truth, it hurt Bart. It hurt that Chloe had gotten married, and it hurt even more that he hadn't even known until Clark had told him. But, it was all good. He was already looking to the future. In fact...
"...Ollie?"
"Yes, Bart?"
"Do you think I have a shot?"
Oliver's brow raised. "With who?"
"Chloelicious. DUH." Bart laughed, then proceeded to throw his sandwich together. Again, in superspeed.
Then it was Oliver who was laughing. "Bart! She's not even... annulled yet. She's still Mrs. Jimmy Olsen."
"So?" The red-clothed young hero said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "As far as I'm concerned? This Jimmy guy? Totally had his chance already. And if Clark won't stop being a wuss and step forward? I think it's so totally my turn."
The taller, blonder man shook his head. "You know if Clark heard you call him a wuss, you'd be barbecued, right?"
"Whatever, dude." Bart said, taking another bite of his sandwich. He reached into the fridge one last time, getting out a can of pop. "I'm headed back to my room. Later, man."
"Don't drop crumbs on the floor!" Ollie called after him, as the speedster took off.
A few minutes later, after finishing his snack, he turned his head, and noticed something next to the sink.
With another sigh of frustration, he realized that Bart had left everything he'd used out, and there was a bit of a mess on the counter.
"Damn kid."
[ooc: FYI- The Oliver used here is no Oliver in particular, except perhaps the one in my own head.]