bossymarmalade: john constantine  (don't join if you can't take a joke)
miss maggie ([personal profile] bossymarmalade) wrote in [community profile] thejusticelounge2013-06-28 07:37 am

love hurts

Jason held the picture over the candle and watched as it burned to ashes in his fingers. A slight smile crept over his face. The first spell was cast, making Oliver Queen overpoweringly lustful towards anyone who was not wearing a special talisman that Jason himself just so happened to possess and who came within a 10 meter diameter of the Emerald Archer. His deed was almost done; he only had one more spell to go.

Jason wiped the paste from his chest and pulled on a shirt. He buttoned the shirt as he walked over to a hot plate on the other side of his room. The pot on top was bubbling, the water inside boiling. The mage flicked on a desk light and peered inside. He took a nearby fork and poked at the cucumber. It was almost soft enough for him to begin the second spell.

This was to be a masterpiece that the conjurer wanted to see up close. He resolved to pay a surprise visit to Queen’s compound just as soon as the the second spell was done, even if it did mean traveling on those awful zeta beams. As Jason snapped the clasp of the chain holding the protective talisman around his neck, he began to anticipate the controlled mayhem that he was about to unleash. He could barely contain his giggle.

It had been a long fucking night.

What seemed like it should’ve been a routine patrol had gone wrong halfway through. And not a wrong that was the kind of thing that happened once in a while on a bum night. It was the kind of wrong where Ollie’d been scrapping with some low-level, slightly meta bruiser in a rooftop garden, gotten knocked over the edge, shot a grapple arrow to catch himself … and missed. Fucking missed! A fucking grapple arrow.



Barely any aim required and he’d still managed to have the shot not land, having to twist and throw his weight as he fell and slamming against the rail of a fire escape on the way down. He’d have a helluva long bruise up his side for the next week, but at least he’d been able to recoup and scramble back up the escape to the roof where the bruiser’d been digging up the garden and knock him the hell out with the sleeping gas arrow. No point taking another chance.

So it was with considerable aggravation that Ollie got back home looking forward to a long bath, some painkillers, and sympathy from his family only to find Jason friggin’ Blood materializing on his patio. Groaning, Ollie finished changing out of his costume, pulling a t-shirt on with his sweats and trotting outside to see what the mage wanted. “This better be good, Blood," Ollie grumbled when the form on the zeta pad had solidified enough to hear him.

“Oh, it’s good” Jason Blood said, striding across the distance and placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. ”In fact, it’s almost too… bloody… goodness! What happened to you?” The mage leaned in and inspected the part of the bruise that was visible. ”Are you all right? Here, let me help you out of that shirt so I can have a look at it?”

“You’re out of your ever loving mind!” Ollie said, knocking the knight’s hand away. ”Take your stinkin’ paws off me, you damn dirty a-“
“You don’t mean that love” Jason said smiling and reaching for the archer’s shirt again. ”Come now, I can kiss it and make it all better.” He tugged up Ollie’s shirt and leaned in with his lips. ”I can kiss you all over and make it lots better. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this…”
"What the fuck’s gotten INTO you?" Ollie roared, stumbling back hastily from the immortal mage’s advances. His heel caught the edge of a patio tile and he went down heavily, sprawling on his ass. Jason Blood kept moving forward, making the most disturbing clucking moue of distress and sympathy mixed with desire, and Ollie jammed his foot into Blood’s solar plexus to keep him at bay.

Scrambling back to a standing position, Ollie held out his hands in front of him. “Let’s just … stay right where we are," he said, “a nice comfortable distance between us, okay? And you explain what exactly the hell you’re doing here, and possibly more importantly, why in the name of all seven hells you’re trying to suddenly jump my bones." A look of dawning horror crossed the archer’s face. “Are you — are you trying to steal my mojo for magic spells by sexing me up or something?!?"

“Sexing?” Jason asked. ”You took the word right out of my mouth!” The knight unbuckled his belt. ”And speaking of mouth…” Jason dropped his pants and boxers all in one motion, “yours is about to get a taste of my glorious, British co- what the hell?”

The immortal knight with the demonic beast inside could do absolutely nothing to make his ‘little monster’ wake up. ”Goddammit!” Jason bellowed, giving it a slap or two. ”Wake up!” he commanded, ripping his shirt apart. ”Wake you bloody piece of sh- what the bloody hell?”
As he frantically tore at his shirt, the sorcerer had accidentally grabbed the talisman around his neck and ripped it off as well. Standing in front of Oliver Queen, mostly naked, amidst the remains of both his clothes and his dignity, Jason Blood came to the fast realization that he had cast the lust spell in reverse. ”Fucking hell!” he raged. He covered himself with his hands as he squatted down and glared furiously at the Archer. “Don’t just stand there drooling like a stupid wanker! Give us a towel!!!”
As embarrassing moments in his lifetime go, and he had a much longer lifetime than most everyone he knew, this made the top ten easily. Hell, top five. ”Now god dammit!”
Now that Jason was acting more normally (well, as normally as he could, being naked with his own two hands the only things preserving his modesty), Ollie smirked, raising an eyebrow. “And cover up the glory of your little British eel? Looks like the Thames doesn’t grow ‘em like it used to, huh?"

Laughing, Ollie went to the poolside shed and took out a big blue towel with orange fish all over it, tossing it to the fuming mage. “I don’t know what the hell kinda spell you were under just now, Blood, but the mental image of you trying to slap up a stiffie is gonna be my go-to when I need a chuckle for oh, at least the rest of the year."

He sat down on one of the deck chairs, still grinning. “So you gonna start explaining why you wanted me to spot your dick, or is this a situation that’s meant to be shrouded in occult secrecy?" Ollie snickered. “Because to be honest, you just lost a lot of your mystique. Poor little todger."

“I have no bloody idea what just happened” Jason fumed. ”All I did was cast a few little spells to make you… to make… well, never mind what the hell I was doing! The point is: I don’t mess up. I never reverse these things. Something is dreadfully amiss!”

The mage tugged his pool towel tighter. ”Someone… or something must have… gah! One thing the Demon does better than I can is hunt the source of mischief. Gone! Gone the Form of Man! Rise the Demon Etrigan!”

A flash of hellfire and a puff of sulphuric smoke later, and Etrigan stood by the pool holding a blue towel with orange fish on it. ”Cute fish” he told Oliver before tossing the towel at him. ”The idiot cast a lust spell but he drew the triangle upside down. Loathe as I am to compliment him, it’s not a mistake he would normally make. Someone is throwing him off his game. And if my instincts are right, he’s not alone.”

The Demon turned his head slightly as if he were listening to far off music. “I sense someone. A mind. A presence. Someone… green.” Etrigan turned to the Archer and his eyes flashed bright with fire. ”Green…” he growled.

That made Ollie frown. “Green and having to do with mind presences and peculiarities? That sounds like Our Favourite Martian to me." Crinkling his nose at the sting of brimstone and sulphur that attended the presence of the Demon, Ollie waved his hand in front of his face. “Not that I’m at all concerned about Blood fucking up his spell when it was CLEARLY intended to screw me over somehow, but the fact that he never messes up sounds awfully…"

He trailed off there. Could the two things be linked? Green Arrow missing a powder puff shot, Jason Blood saying abracadabra instead of alakazoo?

No. There was no way. “Never mind," Ollie said. “Just a coincidence. But whatever it is, we better ping J’onn and see if he knows what’s up." The archer started to head inside, then paused and pointed at Etrigan. “You stay out here," he instructed.

Grabbing his League comm once he was in the house, Ollie pinged J’onn. “Hey, MM, you there? Is there something going on with you? Maybe something a demon would sense? Hey, are you THERE?…"

“Yes, I am here” the Martian answered on his communicator. “I apologize. Could you repeat your query?”

“Archer!” Etrigan growled from outside. “Tell that alien to keep his damned mind out of mine, lest he feel the need to taste my hell fire!” The Demon then wrapped his cloak around his body, muttered an ancient incantation, and disappeared in a flash of flames and wisp of brimstone.

Giving an annoyed squint at the flare-up from the demon on his doorstep, Ollie tuned back into what J’onn was saying. The Martian sounded a mite rattled, but considering that at any given time J’onn was deeply embroiled in at least a dozen separate cases, that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Etrigan said you’ve been spelunking in his brain, and he requests that you stop post-haste or he’ll lay you to waste.” Ollie paused for a moment. “Actually, now that I think about it, he was so rattled he didn’t even bother to rhyme. I dunno what’s going on at your end of all this, J’onny boy, but I guess you got some sorting out to do.”

“Etrigan?” J’onn replied. “Sorting out? Yes. Thank you Oliver. I will get back to you. Stay safe on rooftops.”

“Rooftops?” Ollie asked. “What the hell are you ta-”

The Martian Manhunter switched off his communicator and was deep in his own thoughts before Green Arrow could complete his sentence.

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