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Jaime never realized how much he enjoyed the laid back, casual afternoons he spent lazing about the house until he couldn't anymore. When the Reach had taken control of the scarab, all he could do was wince at how poorly the aliens mimicked his mannerisms for his parents and plot ways to try and escape. But now, with his body back in his control, Jaime was determined to make his life go back to normal. He settled onto his bed with his laptop propped up in front of him, ready to kill a few hours doing nothing important. He’d only managed to make it a few minutes into his period of relaxation when the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed up from downstairs.
“Mom?” Jaime called out, jumping to his feet.
Your mother does not return from work this early, the scarab said, somehow managing to convey an infinite amount of haughtiness with its monotonous voice.
Jaime was about to snap that he knew that, but before he could, something resembling a small tornado barreled into his room.
“Bart!” Jaime groaned as papers and books were swept off his desk and scattered onto the ground.
The red and white blur skid to the stop. “Oh hey, Jaime!” Bart glanced around the now messy room. “Love what you've done with the place. Who needs organization, right?”
“I do! Everything was perfectly neat two seconds ago,” Jaime replied, trying and failing to maintain an exasperated tone. He collapsed back onto his bed and scooted over to make room for Bart. “I’m glad you decided to stop by, hermano.”
Bart grinned widely, plopping down next to Jaime. His legs sprawled across half the bed, nudging Jaime’s left calf. “No problem, I love visiting. This place is totally crash,” Bart said around a mouthful of Chicken Whizees. “And you’re here!” he added after a brief pause.
Somehow that pronouncement pleased Jaime, enough that he completely forgot to tell off Bart for stealing his food again. Instead, he reached over and grabbed a handful, acutely aware of how their fingers brushed, greasy skin against skin, inside the bag. Jaime shut the laptop and leaned back, chewing thoughtfully.
“I didn't think you’d stick around,” he said, focusing on keeping his voice steady.
“Why not?” Bart asked. He leaned closer to Jaime. Didn't people care about personal space in the future?
Jaime shrugged, busying himself with another fistful of Chicken Whizees. He took his time eating them, hoping Bart would get bored and drop the line of questioning in a minute. But Bart sat unusually still, bright eyes trained on Jaime. After a few moments of silence, broken only by the sound of chewing, Bart rapped him lightly against the skull.
“Come on, tell me!”
He grabbed Jaime by the wrist, tugging at it to get his attention. Jaime was somewhat startled by the heat that radiated from Bart’s palm, the result of a ridiculously high metabolism. The thought of wrapping Bart into a tight hug and feeling that warmth spreading across his torso floated unbidden into Jaime’s mind. He shook his head and pulled his hand out of Bart’s grasp.
“You should go back to your own time,” Jaime said.
Bart stiffened, eyes wide and confused. The expression seemed unfamiliar on his face. For a second, Jaime knew that all he wanted was for that unhappy look to disappear.
“You don’t want me here?” Bart asked. He got up from the bed in one fluid motion. “I thought – sorry, man I thought we were – geez, I am so feeling the mode right now.”
“What, no, I don’t want you to leave!” Jaime scrambled up after his friend, grabbing the speedster by the arm before he could leave.
“You just told me I should go back to my own time,” Bart protested indignantly, voice speeding up as he spoke. “Make up your mind! How am I supposed to tell what you want me to do when you keep contradicting yourself? Is this some weird retro thing I never got briefed on or –”
“Bart! Bart, slow down!” Jaime shuffled his feet. He felt like there was some huge lump lodged in his throat, making it impossible to do anything but shrug and stare at the distracting way Bart’s tongue darted out between his lips.
The Impulse is affecting your ability to communicate, the scarab said. Termination is recommended.
“Now’s really not the time,” Jaime retorted.
“What? Are you okay?” Bart asked, stepping closer to peer up at Jaime. He reached up to put a hand against Jaime's forehead.
“I’m fine! Will you quit it with the fake-caring-about-me thing?” Jaime said.
“What are –”
“You came here to keep me from destroying the world,” he continued, pointing an accusatory finger. “You hung around me to make sure I didn't flip out and guess what? Your plan worked. You stopped the Reach from hijacking the scarab and taking over the planet or whatever. It’s done.”
He sighed and crossed his arms. “If I were you, I would be working on a way to go back to my home. Besides, everything in a future is probably crash now that you stopped me from ruining everything.”
Bart blinked. “I didn't become your friend as part of some plan.”
“Of course you did,” Jaime countered. “Why else would you hang around in El Paso, of all places? You have three mentors who you could be learning from,” Jaime said. He sat down on the edge of his bed and looked up at Bart.
“If you want me to stop coming over, you could've just said so. Is this because I steal your food?” Bart said.
His frown deepened. Jaime sighed. It all made sense in his head, but getting the words to come out correctly just seemed impossible.
Communication has never been your strong suit, Jaime Reyes, the scarab added unhelpfully.
“I don’t want you to not come over,” Jaime explained, resolutely ignoring the comment. “I don’t get why you want to come over. There’s nothing left to do here. You can train and then just go home.”
A sudden look of clarity crossed Bart’s face. “But I don’t want to leave.”
“Why not?” Jaime asked, refusing to believe what he was told.
“The past is pretty crash, I've got all my mentors here, I’m part of a crime-fighting superhero team,” Bart counted off on his fingers, “and you’re here.”
“You’d rather be stuck here than riding flying cars or whatever in the future?”
“Anytime! Especially since I haven’t beaten all of your retro video games yet,” Bart replied. His expression became unusually serious. “Did you really think I’d just leave?”
Jaime shrugged. “I guess. I figured you hung out because it was part of your mission.”
“No way, hermano! I like you.”
Jaime looked up, finally managing to meet Bart’s eyes. “For real?”
Bart seemed weirdly thoughtful when he nodded. “Definitely.”
The air in front of Jaime blurred and a soft pair of lips pressed chastely against his. Jaime's heart sped up until he was half-certain it'd explode from the strain. He kissed Bart back, taking in the way the speedster seemed to vibrate softly against him. Only seconds later, way too soon, they pulled apart.
“Sorry?” Bart said, not sounding apologetic at all. “I should probably warn you next time.”
Jaime nodded, curling a fist into the front of Bart’s shirt. “Especially if you plan on using your powers.”
Bart leaned closer, letting Jaime pull him forward. He made a serious face. “Well, listen up: an extremely attractive speedster is about to kiss you again.”
Their mouths met, slower this time, tentative and curious. Jaime lay back against his bed, pulling Bart down onto him. Bart's hands skimmed over his shoulders, down his arms, and up along the line of his jaw. He touched Jaime like he'd never get another chance and Jaime reveled in the feeling of too-hot skin brushing over his. Bart pulled away to breathe, face hovering only an inch away. Jaime panted, dizzy either from the lack of air or the way Bart beamed down at him.
"Just so you know, I don't plan on leaving. You're stuck with me forever," Bart crowed.
Jaime rolled his eyes and pulled Bart back down for a kiss. He thought briefly of the cost of feeding a speedster and how his room was always a mess when Bart visited and how he was going to have to deal with all that for as long as Bart chose to stick around. Somehow, he didn't mind at all.