Work Text:
"Have I told you about the dumb shit I'm pulling at school?" Kick-Ass asks suddenly.
When Chris finishes pulling smoke in from the joint he brought along with them, he shakes his head.
"I don't think so."
Kick-Ass laughs. He doesn't usually smoke with him, and it shows; he's got no tolerance, and he's practically a puddle in Chris's passenger seat. It's been a slow night, and they're about half an hour from the time they usually call it quits anyway, so, he brought out the weed and offered it up. Unlike usual, Kick-Ass took him up on it.
"There's this girl I like," he starts.
Chris's stomach drops a little. They've never directly addressed sexuality, and Chris assumed he was probably straight, but it's still a kick in the pants to get the confirmation.
"She thinks I'm gay," he sighs.
Chris turns to look at him rather than out the window now.
"Are you?" he asks without thinking.
"No," Kick-Ass snorts. "Not really," he corrects. "She heard a rumor about me and I was so desperate to spend time with her that I said it was true."
Chris laughs.
"Oh my God."
"Yeah."
Kick-Ass holds a hand out for Chris to pass him the joint again.
"So are you ever gonna tell her, or are you just gonna be an asshole forever?"
Kick-Ass shrugs.
"That's the thing. The more I play gay around her, the more I think I might actually like guys, too."
Chris's eyebrows raise, and he hopes Kick-Ass can't see his heart pounding against his chest.
"What do you mean?"
Kick-Ass waves a hand in a lazy gesture.
"Well, there's also, like, this guy. He goes to my school and I've been trying to be friends with him, but I've also started noticing that he's kind of hot?" He shrugs and his suit creaks against the leather seats. "I don't know. This is dumb."
"No it's not," Chris says quickly. "If it helps, I've known I'm gay for a while now, and I could help you, like, narrow shit down."
Kick-Ass nods thoughtfully, then he yawns. Chris tries not to smile, because he looks so sleepy from crimefighting and weed, but it slips just a little.
Kick-Ass starts snickering, eyes still shut from yawning.
"Are we gonna make out here, or are you gonna take me back to the Mistcave first?"
Chris flushes.
"What?"
"You said you wanted to 'help me' figure out if I'm gay. That's the oldest trick in the gay book, even I know that."
"That's not what I meant," Chris sputters, honestly. "Oh my God."
"Dude, that's such a cliché."
Chris turns redder.
"You're a cliché," he shoots back. "I meant you could tell me about, like, your feelings and shit when you see that guy and I could help you figure out if it was gay stuff, I didn't mean that."
Kick-Ass is still snickering.
"Sure, dude."
Chris is about to tell him he really didn't mean that, and that'd be such a dick move to take advantage of him like that, but Kick-Ass lolls his head to the side and looks at him.
God help Chris, he gives the shyest, stoned smile. "We could still try that, though." He shrugs. "If it's not too weird."
Chris swallows. Is he in a bad porno? He's had this exact fantasy before.
"Do you want to?"
Kick-Ass shrugs again, smaller and even shyer.
"I've never kissed another dude before. Maybe I'll have an epiphany or something."
Chris gives a nervous laugh.
"I don't know if I'm the best person to ask," Chris says truthfully. He's never really kissed anyone, and he doesn't know if he could live with himself if he solidified Kick-Ass's straightness by being a bad kisser. "Like, I don't have a ton of experience."
"No, hey," Kick-Ass says, and sits up so he can lean over the center console. "I bet you're great."
Chris would be a bad person to let this happen, right? Kick-Ass is stoned, and confused, and they don't even know each others' real names.
Well, nevermind, actually. Kick-Ass is kissing him.
It's soft and chaste but almost stubborn; Kick-Ass is leaning into him enough Chris worries at the back of his mind that he might fall over into the driver's seat, and his eyes are scrunched shut with determination.
He looks ridiculous, actually.
Chris's laughter makes him pull away.
"What?"
"You look like you're eating something sour."
Kick-Ass frowns, but doesn't disagree.
Chris takes a deep breath.
"Just relax, okay?" Kick-Ass nods. Chris slowly brings a hand up to hold Kick-Ass's face, giving him time to redirect it if he's not comfortable with that. "Close your eyes, maybe."
Kick-Ass nods again and shuts his eyes. Chris is doomed, probably, because even though he can't see most of his face, he can see enough -- the red tinge of embarrassment on his skin, his stupid, pretty eyelashes, the lips he's been dying to feel on his since he saw his MySpace picture...
Thank God Chris had him shut his eyes. Any doubt about his crush on him would be gone if he saw how fondly Red Mist is looking at him.
He kisses Kick-Ass as softly as humanly possible. Chris feels the hitch in his breath against his mouth, and then he's shaping his mouth to Chris's and not quite kissing back, but certainly improving it.
Chris gives it a few seconds, then pulls away.
"Well?"
Kick-Ass opens his eyes, but Chris can't quite read his expression.
"Can we try again?"
Chris laughs to shove down the hope that he wants to try again because he's into it (into him) and not because Chris is just too bad a kisser to tell.
"Sorry, I told you I'd be bad at it."
"No, shut up," he says, but it's not mean. "I'm just really stoned and kind of spaced out. Do it again."
Chris holds down another laugh.
"Okay."
He licks his lips before he leans in and Kick-Ass mimics him, and this kiss is much better. It's chaste for as long as it takes for Kick-Ass's mouth to move and him feel their lips slide together, and then Kick-Ass's eyes are fluttering shut and he's kissing back.
It's... Pretty good. He doesn't have any experience kissing anyone, truth be told, but it's going well. His frame of reference is isolated to fantasizing and this moment right now, but Kick-Ass’s mouth is soft and eager against his, and that’s pretty great.
Chris starts leaning back into his own seat rather than over the center console, to give Kick-Ass the opportunity to stop if he wants. He doesn’t; he leans back with him so Chris is twisted almost-uncomfortably in his seat to line himself up with him, and he's really participating now. Chris can feel how Kick-Ass's breath shakes air into his lungs between kisses, and how quick he tries to breathe out in the split seconds their mouths are apart.
"Fuck" slips out of him quietly when Kick-Ass gets handsy, too, two rubber-gloved hands holding onto his hips while they kiss.
Kick-Ass is getting aggressive, full effort into kissing him hard enough to make Chris shiver, fingers digging into him through his gloves and Chris's suit, and Chris can only imagine what's led them here -- has Kick-Ass wanted to do this too? Did Kick-Ass know he's into him? Was this really all just happenstance, coincidence, and good luck?
Chris bites at his lip, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make his teeth known. Kick-Ass makes a noise in his throat that's practically feral and yanks on Chris's hips, pulling him as close as he can manage with Chris still behind the wheel. Chris's arm wraps around his neck and he tries to get a little more sideways, more into whatever position is going to let Kick-Ass keep escalating this.
He feels like he's floating. He has his arms wrapped around his hero partner while they make out and his partner tries to pull him closer, when ten minutes ago, Chris didn't even know Kick-Ass wasn't straight.
When Kick-Ass finally gets too handsy and roams a hand over his belly, like he's asking to touch somewhere else, Chris forces himself to turn his head away to stop the situation.
This has gone way, way further than it should have.
"Fuck," he groans. His mouth is tingling. His face is burning. His hips, where he can feel the ghost pressure where his hands had been, feel like they're tingling and burning.
"Did I do something wrong?" Kick-Ass asks quietly, and fuck if that's not getting to him, between the subtle hurt in his words, how rough and husky his voice is, and the fact that he's still mostly hunched over him and speaking against his ear.
"No," he says. 'Trust me, I want to keep going' is what he doesn't say, even though the thought is pounding in his skull. "Just... Hang on."
Kick-Ass backs off back into his own seat. They're both still panting, and red, and Chris doesn't want to look directly at him in case he just passes out watching Kick-Ass sunk back into his seat all happy and kissed-up and stoned.
"That probably answered it for you, right?" he jokes.
Kick-Ass laughs.
"Christ. Yeah."
Chris hopes Kick-Ass can't see just how red he is under his mask. Between getting enough fantasy material for the next year and finally knowing what his mouth feels like (and tastes like, God), he doesn't need Kick-Ass to see exactly how much it's effecting him.
"So... 'Yes' on dudes?" Chris mentally winces as soon as he says it, because he probably could have worded it better, but that shy smile from earlier creeps back onto Kick-Ass's face.
"Yeah."
Chris nods, like they've just confirmed the weather, not Kick-Ass's sexuality.
Kick-Ass clears his throat, going for nonchalant but instead coming off with 'pretty blatantly trying to get someone's attention'.
"We should do that again, sometime, maybe?"
Chris nods again, still dazed.
"Yeah," he agrees. He didn't mean for it to slip out so easily, since he isn't the one having the identity crisis, but Kick-Ass just seems more flustered and smug than he was when he confirms it.
"Like, soon," Kick-Ass clarifies. "Maybe when we wrap up tonight?"
Chris laughs. Realistically, he could drive them out to some make-out spot and they could fool around as long as they wanted. Also realistically, he could just take him home and act like he has a room reserved there in case he needs to get somewhere quick.
No, that'd be a bad idea. Maybe if they ever tell each other their secret identities. Whoever's under Kick-Ass's mask probably doesn't know him in a city this big, so at least it'd be easy to keep pretending he's a cool rich kid, not a lonely one.
"Sure," Chris laughs again. He's giddy, and it's ridiculous that something like the prospect of making out somewhere has his heart pounding like this, but then again, it's Kick-Ass. "Like, we could drive out somewhere?"
Kick-Ass nods absently. He's still grinning like an asshole too.
"Oh," Kick-Ass says suddenly. "Fuck. Sorry."
Chris looks over at him directly and immediately regrets it. The lap of his suit is tented with a boner, and even wearing whatever crotch protection is under it doesn't fully obscure his dick.
He looks away from him again.
"Oh," Chris laughs.
He feels bad that he can't get the grin off his face while Kick-Ass is clearly embarrassed, but he did that. Them kissing solved his maybe-into-dudes dilemma and also gave him a boner. Nice.
"Sorry," Kick-Ass says again.
Chris waves his hand at him without looking.
"Shut up, it's whatever," he snorts. "Like, me too," he adds casually.
That makes Kick-Ass laugh.
"Really?"
He tries to lean forward to see past Chris's defensively positioned leg and arms, but Chris raises his knee and covers his lap more.
"Dude, don't look at my boner," he blurts out.
Kick-Ass laughs harder at that, but leans back in his seat.
"Sorry, sorry!"
They're both still giggling nervously when Chris's phone pings with an alert from Red Mist's MySpace.
Missing dog. Suspected stolen by neighbor. Not too far away.
Chris readjusts his mask on his face and sits up in his seat properly, like a professional.
"You good?"
Kick-Ass nods. He's still grinning too.
"Super. Let's go."