FNL Fic: "With the Lights Out It's Less Dangerous" (Jason and Herc, PG-13)
Holy new fandom jitters, Batman! I haven't had stage fright this bad since...oh, right, the last time I posted a fic in a new fandom.
Title: With the Lights Out It's Less Dangerous
Author: tartanshell
Characters: Jason Street, Herc
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2,575
Note: Title and the cut-tag text are from "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana.
Feedback is, as always, very much appreciated.
"Can you--can you come over?"
Herc had fumbled in the dark for his cell phone and picked up on the seventh ring. Now he cracked one eye open and glared blearily at the red, squarish numbers on his alarm clock. "It's two-eighteen in the fucking morning."
"I know."
"Dude, friends do not call friends at two-eighteen in the fuckin' morning," Herc continued, warming up now that he was waking up a little. "And, more importantly, quads do not call quads at two-eighteen--"
"--in the morning. I get it," Jason snapped. "Jeez. Nevermind."
Herc sighed and rubbed the knuckles of his free hand over his face. "No, man, I just meant, it's gonna be awhile before I get my ass over there. So, if this is like an emergency or something? You might wanna--"
"It's not." Jason sighed into the phone, too, and Herc had the sudden, clear mental picture of him sitting up, all hunched over and looking miserable. Like...well, like usual. "So, would you? Come over?"
He rolled his eyes. "Be watching for me. I don't wanna wake your folks up."
"You won't," Jason said. "They're out of town for the weekend. You can just let yourself in."
"Fine, whatever."
---
The streets of Dillon, Texas, pretty fucking unsurprisingly, were silent and deserted as he drove through town. His truck wasn't no huge, belching diesel or nothing, but even his baby's usual purr seemed too loud. He turned the CD player down, even though the windows were up. Metallica with the volume at twenty might be okay out on the highway, with nobody to hear it but the deer and cattle, but here? He didn't want to wake any little old ladies up and give 'em heart attacks, or something.
The Streets' house was dark except for one window on the first floor. Probably not a good sign, he figured. Sure as hell meant that QB hadn't been in the kitchen making nachos or whatever for a midnight snack for the both of them.
Herc got the wheels on his chair, then got himself out of the truck, followed by a backpack that he set on his lap. He went up to the front door and opened it, peering into the darkness. It was awfully damn quiet. "Dude, if you fell asleep on me, I am gonna kick your ass," he muttered, shutting the door.
"I didn't," Jason said from down the hall. Herc headed that way and saw as soon as he'd turned the corner that the light was on in one of the rooms, the door about halfway shut, throwing a trapezoid of light onto the floor. He nudged the door open and blinked. Looked like he'd been wrong about QB sitting up and looking miserable. He was lying on his bed, staring at the edge where the wall met the ceiling, but the miserable part had been spot-on. He turned his head and kinda halfway looked at Herc. "Hey."
"Good mornin'," Herc said pointedly. His annoyance faded as he approached the bed, though. He concentrated on hooking his wrist through the backpack strap, then let it thump to the floor, giving the kid time to blink and sniffle and pretend he hadn't been crying or whatever. "So. What's up?"
Jason's mouth tightened, getting the pinched, pissy look that told Herc it was gonna be one of those talks, where they took a good long while to get to the point. Nodding, he rolled back from the bed and took a look around the room. Between the sand-colored paint, no thumbtack holes, and the total absence of a vibe... His lips twitched. "Nice digs, man. This used to be the guest room, or your mom's sewing room?"
Jason snorted. "Dad's office."
"Yeah, that makes sense. Can't see your mom liking to sew lookin' at institutional beige walls."
"Actually? My mom doesn't sew," Jason said. "Not since she stopped making my Halloween costumes."
"Ah, guess that's just me." He smiled a little. "I was spotting pins in the corners and gettin' little stray bits of thread on my tires for God knows how long."
"Your room was upstairs, too, huh?"
Herc nodded, going closer to the bed again. His knees almost brushed the mattress--might've been, barely, for all he knew. "Yep," he replied. "Up in the attic. It was an old house, the kind where you go up these narrow stairs instead of a ladder to get to the attic, and when I was ten, my parents let me move up there."
They'd only agreed after he'd begged for, like, the better part of a year and promised up, down, and sideways to be careful on the steep stairs in the dark. His mom's big argument against it--funny thing--was that she was afraid he'd trip in the night and break his neck. He'd made a joke about that one time, after the divorce, and she'd just about slapped him. It didn't even seem to matter, now. His old room was just another piece of somebody he used to be. No big deal. "When it rained--there were these little round windows, right?--I used to feel like I was out on the ocean, on my own private pirate ship."
Jason grinned. "Captain Herc?"
Herc held up a hand, pretending to inspect his curled fingers, then raised his eyebrows. "Dude, if it fits..."
"Nah. Peter Pan, maybe."
"Well, what the fuck'd that make you? Tinkerbell?" He snorted. "Want me to clap my hands if I believe you're a fairy?"
"You're such a dick."
"Pretty much," he agreed, leaning over to fish the backpack off the floor. After a minute wrestling with the zipper, he got the damn thing open and got out a half-full bottle of tequila. Wasn't his preferred choice of beverage, but he knew the kid liked it. 'Course, the kid was of an age where a twelve-pack of lite beer or a blender full of margaritas constituted a really fine evening, too. He uncapped the bottle and took a big old swig, then blinked as it kicked going down. "Get yourself propped up better so you can drink with me," he said, nodding at the headboard.
"I can drink like this." Even though they both knew full well he couldn't. Herc rolled his eyes.
"Not without a cup or a straw, you can't. And I'm sure as hell not going to get 'em for you. Besides, you wanna look like a pathetic wino or something, chokin' to death with alcohol sloshed all over yourself?"
With a sigh that was way too put-upon for somebody underage who was gonna get free booze from the guy he'd woken up at what-the-fuck o'clock, Jason pushed himself so he was closer to sitting up than lying down. When it seemed like he was all set, Herc wordlessly held out the bottle. Jason took a gulp, then grimaced. "Ugh."
"Breakfast of champions, huh?"
"You are a bad damn influence."
Herc laughed. "Oh, you love me 'cause I'm naughty."
He was rewarded for that by the sight of QB nearly spittin' a mouthful of Cuervo onto his shirt, then turning bright red as he choked it down. The bottle wobbled in Jason's grip as he extended it, still chuckling. Herc took another shot, then tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeing the slight tingle at the base of his skull and behind his eyelids and in his fingertips that told him José was making his presence known.
Jason's voice interrupted his pleasant musings about the effects of tequila as a way to get rid of fuzzy middle-of-the-night teeth. "Hey, Herc?"
He didn't bother to open his eyes. Just held the bottle out in the direction of the bed. "Mmm?"
Jason took it, and a moment later, Herc heard him belch quietly. Apparently that wasn't it, though. "Would you, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Do you..."
"What?" Herc looked at him and was startled to see that he was turning red and looking down at his hands. "Spit it, dude."
Jason took another, quicker drink. "Do you--do you want to come over and sit here on the bed with me?"
Herc blinked. Contemplated the question for a minute. "That," he said at last, "is the lamest pickup line I have ever heard. I mean, God in heaven, it is a wonder Lyla fuckin' Garrity ever wanted to do you if you used crap like that on her. Do I wanna come over and sit with--"
"It's not like that, okay?" Jason interrupted. "Forget it." He was getting that pinched look again, pressing the sides of the bottle hard between his palms, tension clearly saying that if he could have walked out of the room and away from this, right now, he sure as hell would have.
"If I'm not woefully mistaken, you just invited me into your bed, QB. No way am I forgetting that."
Jason glared. "And now I'm asking you to drop it. Please."
As much fun as it would have been to keep busting his nuts, the look on his face told Herc that probably wouldn't be the brightest idea. Especially since Jason still had the bottle of tequila, which he could chuck at either Herc or the wall or dump on the floor, none of which'd be good.
"You'll notice I didn't say no," he pointed out. "I was just givin' you shit."
Jason shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Seriously, Herc, forget it. It was stupid anyway."
"You actually think I'm gonna let it go? You have met me, right?" Herc grinned. "And pass that over here, would you?" He took a drink and set the bottle on the nightstand. Then he turned his chair slightly in order to reach out and bump the back of his hand against Jason's. "So...?"
Jason glanced at their hands for a second, then jerked his away. He let it hover in midair for a second before kinda flopping it down on his thigh, like he didn't quite know what to do with himself. "I get sick and tired of people not touching me," he muttered at last, barely opening his mouth to force the words past his teeth. "I was at this party the other night, and everyone--the guys were horsing around, people were drinking and falling asleep on each other, and--"
"And you were sitting out of the way, in a corner or somethin', with your friends bringing you beer?"
"Pretty much. And the whole time, I was thinking about the parties we had in Austin, where I wasn't the guy in the chair, you know?" He laughed raggedly. "I mean, I was, but--"
"So was everybody else," Herc finished, nodding.
Jason smiled. "Well, yeah, but what I was going to say was, 'but nobody hesitated before they shook my hand.'"
"You could always get yourself a t-shirt made up that says something like, 'It's not contagious, assholes.'"
"I'm sure my mom would love that."
Herc grinned, then reached down for Jason's transfer board. "Well, scoot over if we're gonna do this."
Jason's bed was a twin-size, which made it interesting trying to get two grown men situated. After several minutes and some swearing, though, they got it so Herc was leaning back against the spare pillow Jason usually put between his knees, and they both had mostly enough room. Herc was closer to the nightstand, so he snagged the tequila and took another swig before holding it out. Jason waved him off, though. "I shouldn't have had this much as it is," he said in reply to Herc's surprised look. "I'm not supposed to pee until seven-thirty."
"You don't sleep with a leg bag?" Herc set the bottle back on the nightstand, feeling his eyebrows climbing. "Hell, I have pissed the bed one too many times not to--" He broke off as Jason started laughing. "What?"
"No, I--" Jason shook his head. "I'm just glad you came over. That's all."
"Uh-huh," Herc said disbelievingly, but he didn't push it, for once. He knew what QB meant. After a minute, he lifted his left hand to his mouth and pulled the strap of his glove loose, then tugged with his teeth to the point that he could pull it the rest of the way off. Once his hand was bare, he lifted it to the back of Jason's head, letting his fingertips skate over his short hair. It was softer than he'd expected, especially seeing as how it was so flat and helmety-looking all the time.
Jason shivered, and Herc stopped right away, pulling his fingers back even though his tricep was still resting against Jason's shoulder. "Not cool?"
"A little gay, but yeah, it's cool," Jason replied. "Just--" he reached over, setting his hand palm-up on Herc's abdomen. Herc bit back an amused smile as he covered it with his right hand, still touching QB's hair with his left.
After awhile, he let his arm slide down, curved along Jason's shoulders in what other people in a less compromising situation just might call a hug. Jason sighed and leaned his head back, neck pressing into Herc's forearm, warm and heavy. "This is still only a little bit gay, right?" he asked, the thickness of his voice saying that, clearly, José was kicking his ass as lot harder than he was Herc's.
Herc snorted and thwacked his shoulder lightly. "We have a damn long way to go 'til we hit full-on Brokeback, Sparky. 'Long as I'm not suckin' on your earlobe--or your ding-dong--your virtue's intact."
Jason huffed a laugh, then let his head fall to the side. And, funny thing, his eyes didn't look near as buzzed as he sounded. "Uh, Herc? What about kissing? Would that be--?"
"Keanu Reeves gay," Herc replied after a second, probably not as surprised as he should've been. "Angelina Jolie gay. For that matter, Herc gay. Which is to say, like, bisexual, you know? You don't give a shit. Whatever."
"Huh."
Herc shifted his grip slightly in order to squeeze the side of Jason's hand between his thumb and forefinger. "Think you can live with that?" He felt rather than heard the slow intake of breath beside him. Felt Jason's shoulders rise again in a shrug.
"You'd be surprised what I can live with."
"No, I wouldn't."
"I know," Jason said quietly. But then QB did surprise him by reaching up to stroke the backs of his fingers along his jaw. Herc closed his eyes and leaned into the hesitant, awkward touch, rubbing his stubble against the hard ridge of Jason's knuckles. After a minute of just enjoying having his chin rubbed like he was a tomcat or somethin', he caught Jason's wrist and pulled his hand closer.
"Y'ever kiss a guy before?" His lips brushed the words against the cool pad of Jason's thumb, and he had to fight pretty damn hard not to do anything stupid with his tongue, just yet.
Jason shook his head. He was blushing again, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Ask me again in a few minutes, okay?"
"You got it, Tinkerbell," Herc replied, and grinned as he reached for the light.
Title: With the Lights Out It's Less Dangerous
Author: tartanshell
Characters: Jason Street, Herc
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2,575
Note: Title and the cut-tag text are from "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana.
Feedback is, as always, very much appreciated.
"Can you--can you come over?"
Herc had fumbled in the dark for his cell phone and picked up on the seventh ring. Now he cracked one eye open and glared blearily at the red, squarish numbers on his alarm clock. "It's two-eighteen in the fucking morning."
"I know."
"Dude, friends do not call friends at two-eighteen in the fuckin' morning," Herc continued, warming up now that he was waking up a little. "And, more importantly, quads do not call quads at two-eighteen--"
"--in the morning. I get it," Jason snapped. "Jeez. Nevermind."
Herc sighed and rubbed the knuckles of his free hand over his face. "No, man, I just meant, it's gonna be awhile before I get my ass over there. So, if this is like an emergency or something? You might wanna--"
"It's not." Jason sighed into the phone, too, and Herc had the sudden, clear mental picture of him sitting up, all hunched over and looking miserable. Like...well, like usual. "So, would you? Come over?"
He rolled his eyes. "Be watching for me. I don't wanna wake your folks up."
"You won't," Jason said. "They're out of town for the weekend. You can just let yourself in."
"Fine, whatever."
---
The streets of Dillon, Texas, pretty fucking unsurprisingly, were silent and deserted as he drove through town. His truck wasn't no huge, belching diesel or nothing, but even his baby's usual purr seemed too loud. He turned the CD player down, even though the windows were up. Metallica with the volume at twenty might be okay out on the highway, with nobody to hear it but the deer and cattle, but here? He didn't want to wake any little old ladies up and give 'em heart attacks, or something.
The Streets' house was dark except for one window on the first floor. Probably not a good sign, he figured. Sure as hell meant that QB hadn't been in the kitchen making nachos or whatever for a midnight snack for the both of them.
Herc got the wheels on his chair, then got himself out of the truck, followed by a backpack that he set on his lap. He went up to the front door and opened it, peering into the darkness. It was awfully damn quiet. "Dude, if you fell asleep on me, I am gonna kick your ass," he muttered, shutting the door.
"I didn't," Jason said from down the hall. Herc headed that way and saw as soon as he'd turned the corner that the light was on in one of the rooms, the door about halfway shut, throwing a trapezoid of light onto the floor. He nudged the door open and blinked. Looked like he'd been wrong about QB sitting up and looking miserable. He was lying on his bed, staring at the edge where the wall met the ceiling, but the miserable part had been spot-on. He turned his head and kinda halfway looked at Herc. "Hey."
"Good mornin'," Herc said pointedly. His annoyance faded as he approached the bed, though. He concentrated on hooking his wrist through the backpack strap, then let it thump to the floor, giving the kid time to blink and sniffle and pretend he hadn't been crying or whatever. "So. What's up?"
Jason's mouth tightened, getting the pinched, pissy look that told Herc it was gonna be one of those talks, where they took a good long while to get to the point. Nodding, he rolled back from the bed and took a look around the room. Between the sand-colored paint, no thumbtack holes, and the total absence of a vibe... His lips twitched. "Nice digs, man. This used to be the guest room, or your mom's sewing room?"
Jason snorted. "Dad's office."
"Yeah, that makes sense. Can't see your mom liking to sew lookin' at institutional beige walls."
"Actually? My mom doesn't sew," Jason said. "Not since she stopped making my Halloween costumes."
"Ah, guess that's just me." He smiled a little. "I was spotting pins in the corners and gettin' little stray bits of thread on my tires for God knows how long."
"Your room was upstairs, too, huh?"
Herc nodded, going closer to the bed again. His knees almost brushed the mattress--might've been, barely, for all he knew. "Yep," he replied. "Up in the attic. It was an old house, the kind where you go up these narrow stairs instead of a ladder to get to the attic, and when I was ten, my parents let me move up there."
They'd only agreed after he'd begged for, like, the better part of a year and promised up, down, and sideways to be careful on the steep stairs in the dark. His mom's big argument against it--funny thing--was that she was afraid he'd trip in the night and break his neck. He'd made a joke about that one time, after the divorce, and she'd just about slapped him. It didn't even seem to matter, now. His old room was just another piece of somebody he used to be. No big deal. "When it rained--there were these little round windows, right?--I used to feel like I was out on the ocean, on my own private pirate ship."
Jason grinned. "Captain Herc?"
Herc held up a hand, pretending to inspect his curled fingers, then raised his eyebrows. "Dude, if it fits..."
"Nah. Peter Pan, maybe."
"Well, what the fuck'd that make you? Tinkerbell?" He snorted. "Want me to clap my hands if I believe you're a fairy?"
"You're such a dick."
"Pretty much," he agreed, leaning over to fish the backpack off the floor. After a minute wrestling with the zipper, he got the damn thing open and got out a half-full bottle of tequila. Wasn't his preferred choice of beverage, but he knew the kid liked it. 'Course, the kid was of an age where a twelve-pack of lite beer or a blender full of margaritas constituted a really fine evening, too. He uncapped the bottle and took a big old swig, then blinked as it kicked going down. "Get yourself propped up better so you can drink with me," he said, nodding at the headboard.
"I can drink like this." Even though they both knew full well he couldn't. Herc rolled his eyes.
"Not without a cup or a straw, you can't. And I'm sure as hell not going to get 'em for you. Besides, you wanna look like a pathetic wino or something, chokin' to death with alcohol sloshed all over yourself?"
With a sigh that was way too put-upon for somebody underage who was gonna get free booze from the guy he'd woken up at what-the-fuck o'clock, Jason pushed himself so he was closer to sitting up than lying down. When it seemed like he was all set, Herc wordlessly held out the bottle. Jason took a gulp, then grimaced. "Ugh."
"Breakfast of champions, huh?"
"You are a bad damn influence."
Herc laughed. "Oh, you love me 'cause I'm naughty."
He was rewarded for that by the sight of QB nearly spittin' a mouthful of Cuervo onto his shirt, then turning bright red as he choked it down. The bottle wobbled in Jason's grip as he extended it, still chuckling. Herc took another shot, then tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeing the slight tingle at the base of his skull and behind his eyelids and in his fingertips that told him José was making his presence known.
Jason's voice interrupted his pleasant musings about the effects of tequila as a way to get rid of fuzzy middle-of-the-night teeth. "Hey, Herc?"
He didn't bother to open his eyes. Just held the bottle out in the direction of the bed. "Mmm?"
Jason took it, and a moment later, Herc heard him belch quietly. Apparently that wasn't it, though. "Would you, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Do you..."
"What?" Herc looked at him and was startled to see that he was turning red and looking down at his hands. "Spit it, dude."
Jason took another, quicker drink. "Do you--do you want to come over and sit here on the bed with me?"
Herc blinked. Contemplated the question for a minute. "That," he said at last, "is the lamest pickup line I have ever heard. I mean, God in heaven, it is a wonder Lyla fuckin' Garrity ever wanted to do you if you used crap like that on her. Do I wanna come over and sit with--"
"It's not like that, okay?" Jason interrupted. "Forget it." He was getting that pinched look again, pressing the sides of the bottle hard between his palms, tension clearly saying that if he could have walked out of the room and away from this, right now, he sure as hell would have.
"If I'm not woefully mistaken, you just invited me into your bed, QB. No way am I forgetting that."
Jason glared. "And now I'm asking you to drop it. Please."
As much fun as it would have been to keep busting his nuts, the look on his face told Herc that probably wouldn't be the brightest idea. Especially since Jason still had the bottle of tequila, which he could chuck at either Herc or the wall or dump on the floor, none of which'd be good.
"You'll notice I didn't say no," he pointed out. "I was just givin' you shit."
Jason shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Seriously, Herc, forget it. It was stupid anyway."
"You actually think I'm gonna let it go? You have met me, right?" Herc grinned. "And pass that over here, would you?" He took a drink and set the bottle on the nightstand. Then he turned his chair slightly in order to reach out and bump the back of his hand against Jason's. "So...?"
Jason glanced at their hands for a second, then jerked his away. He let it hover in midair for a second before kinda flopping it down on his thigh, like he didn't quite know what to do with himself. "I get sick and tired of people not touching me," he muttered at last, barely opening his mouth to force the words past his teeth. "I was at this party the other night, and everyone--the guys were horsing around, people were drinking and falling asleep on each other, and--"
"And you were sitting out of the way, in a corner or somethin', with your friends bringing you beer?"
"Pretty much. And the whole time, I was thinking about the parties we had in Austin, where I wasn't the guy in the chair, you know?" He laughed raggedly. "I mean, I was, but--"
"So was everybody else," Herc finished, nodding.
Jason smiled. "Well, yeah, but what I was going to say was, 'but nobody hesitated before they shook my hand.'"
"You could always get yourself a t-shirt made up that says something like, 'It's not contagious, assholes.'"
"I'm sure my mom would love that."
Herc grinned, then reached down for Jason's transfer board. "Well, scoot over if we're gonna do this."
Jason's bed was a twin-size, which made it interesting trying to get two grown men situated. After several minutes and some swearing, though, they got it so Herc was leaning back against the spare pillow Jason usually put between his knees, and they both had mostly enough room. Herc was closer to the nightstand, so he snagged the tequila and took another swig before holding it out. Jason waved him off, though. "I shouldn't have had this much as it is," he said in reply to Herc's surprised look. "I'm not supposed to pee until seven-thirty."
"You don't sleep with a leg bag?" Herc set the bottle back on the nightstand, feeling his eyebrows climbing. "Hell, I have pissed the bed one too many times not to--" He broke off as Jason started laughing. "What?"
"No, I--" Jason shook his head. "I'm just glad you came over. That's all."
"Uh-huh," Herc said disbelievingly, but he didn't push it, for once. He knew what QB meant. After a minute, he lifted his left hand to his mouth and pulled the strap of his glove loose, then tugged with his teeth to the point that he could pull it the rest of the way off. Once his hand was bare, he lifted it to the back of Jason's head, letting his fingertips skate over his short hair. It was softer than he'd expected, especially seeing as how it was so flat and helmety-looking all the time.
Jason shivered, and Herc stopped right away, pulling his fingers back even though his tricep was still resting against Jason's shoulder. "Not cool?"
"A little gay, but yeah, it's cool," Jason replied. "Just--" he reached over, setting his hand palm-up on Herc's abdomen. Herc bit back an amused smile as he covered it with his right hand, still touching QB's hair with his left.
After awhile, he let his arm slide down, curved along Jason's shoulders in what other people in a less compromising situation just might call a hug. Jason sighed and leaned his head back, neck pressing into Herc's forearm, warm and heavy. "This is still only a little bit gay, right?" he asked, the thickness of his voice saying that, clearly, José was kicking his ass as lot harder than he was Herc's.
Herc snorted and thwacked his shoulder lightly. "We have a damn long way to go 'til we hit full-on Brokeback, Sparky. 'Long as I'm not suckin' on your earlobe--or your ding-dong--your virtue's intact."
Jason huffed a laugh, then let his head fall to the side. And, funny thing, his eyes didn't look near as buzzed as he sounded. "Uh, Herc? What about kissing? Would that be--?"
"Keanu Reeves gay," Herc replied after a second, probably not as surprised as he should've been. "Angelina Jolie gay. For that matter, Herc gay. Which is to say, like, bisexual, you know? You don't give a shit. Whatever."
"Huh."
Herc shifted his grip slightly in order to squeeze the side of Jason's hand between his thumb and forefinger. "Think you can live with that?" He felt rather than heard the slow intake of breath beside him. Felt Jason's shoulders rise again in a shrug.
"You'd be surprised what I can live with."
"No, I wouldn't."
"I know," Jason said quietly. But then QB did surprise him by reaching up to stroke the backs of his fingers along his jaw. Herc closed his eyes and leaned into the hesitant, awkward touch, rubbing his stubble against the hard ridge of Jason's knuckles. After a minute of just enjoying having his chin rubbed like he was a tomcat or somethin', he caught Jason's wrist and pulled his hand closer.
"Y'ever kiss a guy before?" His lips brushed the words against the cool pad of Jason's thumb, and he had to fight pretty damn hard not to do anything stupid with his tongue, just yet.
Jason shook his head. He was blushing again, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Ask me again in a few minutes, okay?"
"You got it, Tinkerbell," Herc replied, and grinned as he reached for the light.