[Fic] face your fears (run with scissors) (DCU)
- Fandom: Black Adam (Movie 2022), DC Extended Universe
- Pairing: Carter Hall/Kent Nelson
- Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Pining
- Word-Count: 1063
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2024-09-29
- Disclaimer: I do not own Black Adam (Movie 2022) and make no profit from thisāit is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
Summary:
When it's clear that it's Carter, he can't help experimenting.
Notes:
- ForĀ elpollodiablo.
(don't actually run with scissors)
Work Text:
Kent has a way of looking when he's in the middle of a vision, and Carter can't look away from it, in turn. It's the way his head tilts, how his gaze drifts sightlessly, how his hand is secure on the helmet. How he huffs, when he comes out of it, a quiet sort of exasperation that it happened again, but without true resentment or even ill will. He rolls his neck a bit, sometimes, eyelashes fluttering as he inhales deeply, and when he spots Carter watching his lips hook into a smile and his eyes glittering. āSomething interesting happen?ā he asks, as if he has no idea what's going through Carter's head, what he's thinking of, what he can't stop imagining.
Sometimes after such a vision, Kent will leave. He will make a poor, flimsy excuse, and he will smile distantly at Carter, and he will go away for days. But he always comes back, and Carter keeps a keen ear out; he's not leaving because he needs something.
He's leaving because of Carter.
It's poor taste of him, perhaps, to track the commonalities in these departures, to try to solve the equation. But he does, because it's Kent, and he aches to know Kent in a way that isāall-consuming. Overwhelming. He wants to know every part of Kent, know everything about him, and when it's clear there's a pattern he can't help investigating.
When it's clear that it'sĀ Carter, he can't help experimenting.
He thinks,Ā I want to kiss you,Ā and nothing happens. He imagines kissing Kent; imagines the feel of Kent's skin under his hands, his hair between his fingers, his tongue in Carter's mouth. Imagines the noises, the muffled gasps, the way they'd breathe together, the pulsing of their heartbeats in his air, how their bodies would cling tight, how he'd hold on with everything he had.
Kent's head tilts, and his lips part, and when he comes out of the vision he leaves.
Carter tries it again.
And again.
Again.
The result is always the same. The more thorough his imagination is, the more intent and desire and pent-up wants and aches he shoves into it, the more Kent reacts. The more visions he has, the longer they last, the more heĀ sees.
There something terrifying about it. Because Kent wouldn't be having visions about it if there wasn't a future where Carter actually acted on his imagination, would there? There would be no visions if he wasn't actually taking that last step in some future of theirs. If he wasn't taking the chance, the risk.
And Kent leaves, every single time.
It isāfrustrating. Infuriating.
A little bit heartbreaking.
Carter wants Kent with a fierceness that feels obscene, with an ache that sinks into his bones, into his lungs. He's wanted Kent for years, has loved him almost as long, and he can't imagine a world that Kent isn't in. Has forgotten, what life was like before him. It's consuming, subsuming, and he wants nothing but to be allowed toĀ have. And yet Kent denies him, time and time again, turning away.
And yet he always comes back.
He turns up when Carter is out on Justice Society business, gives a helping hand with a smile and a soft āSome assistance might make things easier, don't you think?ā and then he does make things easier, he always does. He turns up at Carter's home, at the manor, walks the long halls, the big yard, joins him on the roof and watches the stars in the night.
He always comes back.
That.
That has to mean something, doesn't it?
Every time Kent comes back, some of Carter's self-control vanishes. More and more of his self-disciple, his ability to hold back and turn away, to not chase after Kent, to not beg for whatever scraps he can be spared, is worn out. He wants, he aches, and Kent comes back. Sometimes, he doesn't even draw out the visions on purposeāmost times, now, he doesn't. He just looks at Kent, and his desires choke him, and he can't help hoping, wanting, praying.
Can't help imagining.
And Kent leaves.
And then he returns, again, hands hesitant, steps slow but growing surer with every footfall, his eyes soft, his smile gentle. He returns, and he greets Carter with a low āHello,ā And Carter can't help imagining aĀ dearĀ appended to the end. He's almost pathetic with it, this want of his, this love. The way he clings onto any morsel he's given, how he keeps doing this, over and over. Letting it happen, over and over.
His resistance is steadily worn down, his imagination getting further and further away from himāhe thinks of waking up next to Kent, thinks of watching the morning sunlight moving over his skin, and he can't breatheāand so it shouldn't be a surprise when he grabs Kent's shoulder, lets his touch linger, feels the way Kent shudders, stares at the slight parting of his lips. He looks up, into Kent's eyes, and he imagines kissing him, and imagines the tough of lips, imagines the feeling of Kent's hands on his body, and he doesn't want this to be just another vision.
His control has eroded, and he kisses Kentāpushes himself forth, curls his hand around the back of Kent's head, feels the pounding his heart in the pit of his throat as a muffled noise escapes him. āKent,ā he breathes into Kent's mouth and Kent is kissing him back, his hand is on Carter's back, on his waist, his fingers denting his clothes, and Carter's eyelashes flutter, his heart spinning in his aching chest. āIf you don'tāā he says, and the rest is swallowed by Kent's mouth, by his touch, and Carter clings, holds tight, doesn't let go.
Kent breathes a soft āCarterā says a gentle āI'm sorryā and Carter laughs, just a bit wetly.
āAin't got nothing to be sorry about,ā he murmurs, sinking his fingers into Kent's hair, pressing the kiss deeper, harsher, devouring. Fuck, but he can't help it. Kent moans, and Carter and pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together, to stare into his eyes. āDon't leave this time,ā he begs, and Kent's hand runs over his back, settles on the nape of his neck, massages his skin gently, staring right back.
And Kent doesn't leave.