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thejusticelounge2013-07-04 09:50 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2013-07-04 09:50 am
tras la torta
[Ring Txt] Si, okay.
It wasn’t as though he’d really planned it, per se. Kate offered of her own volition after all. But it was nice to know that when he told Guy he was planning to spend Sunday in LA, he wasn’t making a pretense of it. It wasn’t North Hollywood but it was Kate and that was way better.
He had just felt suddenly weird about actually asking her. It seemed so.excluding to others, particularly in the midst of birthdays and geeky hangouts and other things.
But Kate understood, somehow. Damn, Kyle loved his friends.
He showed up at her apartment (using the balcony; they were Lantern launchpads, in his mind) with a lot of tequila and beer.
“Kaaaaaate. Kaaaate Kate Kate,” Kyle tapped on her glass, trying not to peer in. ”Let the right one in, Kate. Estoy aquiiiiiiii, mami.”
Kate was a little worried about Kyle, from what he’d been saying. Not that this was anything new, but still. And yeah, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she needed a few hours away from the hive of melodrama that was Star City at the moment, because even with things more under control, the tension was fucking ridiculous.
Not running away, just wanting to spend some time celebrating the Battle of Puebla in LA, and get her head together.
She’d spared them both the epic disaster that would be her trying to make the carnitas and instead had gotten takeout from the best place on the north side. To her credit, she had mashed the shit out of some aguacates to make fresh guacamole, because even the restaurant stuff was usually stale.
"Ay, papí, what liquor store did you knock over?" she said, pulling open the patio door, chewing on an empanada. “Madre di dios, I have to be mostly sober by this evening, sabes, liquid lunch or not." Not that they’d have any lack of food either. There was a reason she was already eating, and that was because it had smelled too damn good.
Kyle chuckled, heading into her kitchen and unloading the booze, placing the beer in the fridge. He came over to her and looped a hand around her hip, leaning in for a kiss on her cheek…and also nabbing a homemade (from eatery) tortilla chip from the table behind her, digging it into the bowl of guacamole and chomping on it.
“Consider it payment for having to put up with mi culo penoso for a few whiny hours. I’ll need the tequila right now, though.” He opened her fridge, peering around until he found a lime, juggling it up and grabbing a knife to quickly segment it.
“Quite a day yesterday, huh? Mia seemed okay when I was talking to her, but…everyone else was, kinda, yeah. No. Yeah. Roy.” Kyle grinned, lime rind in his mouth as he poured a couple shots for them. “You doing okay?”
"I shall persevere valiantly in the name of our ancestors when it comes to dealing with your culo," said Kate, flicking Kyle in the bicep as he leaned around her and dug straight into the guac. She smirked at him, laying the innuendo on plenty thick. “It’s a day for battles, after all."
She pulled the carnitas box out of the oven where she’d been keeping it warm, along with some tortillas and other condiments…and a copious amount of paper towels in case of mess. It gave her time to heave a long soft sigh at the subject matter of the conversation—not at Kyle, but at the situation.
"If I was gonna play into stereotypes today?" she said. “It was like a fucking telenovela. Ollie somewhere between nearly jumping out of his skin or demanding someone go kill the fatted calf, all Bible-style. Roy…I don’t even fucking know. Lian completely losing any understanding that she should not be a diva for her aunt’s birthday. And Damian being his usual reactive self. I don’t know, it’s almost got me wanting to play la malvada madrastra just because it feels expected. Poor Mia."
Reaching over, she saluted him wryly with the small glass, then took the shot quick and fast.
“Nyuk nyuk nyuk,” Kyle said, but he really was laughing, and turning slightly red from all the innuendo. In a completely good way, of course; he loved being teased, particularly by people who knew how to do it well. Kate definitely always fell into that category, and she put Kyle completely at ease, playful even. Like coming home…some imaginary home, anyway.
He got them more tequila and some water as well, heading to the living room with the alcohol and fiddling with her air conditioning, just a bit. Enough so their skin and clothes wouldn’t get tacky from cuddling; which Kyle intended to get done. He was craving some casual contact, and particularly from Kate. ”You don’t mind if we eat here, do you? Please please - I’m not in the mood for stuffy dining table eating.”
He sighed vocally, listening to her assessment of the situation. “Well, I hope it all works out, for all of you. He’s…ah…he’s not staying for long though. So I hear. Kind of a Roy-tornado it seems. Here, then gone. ” Kyle reached for more chips and guacamole, making a pleased noise at how nice it tasted. Outside, a boom box blared out Mexican pop, youthful voices joking and hollering gleefully en espanol.
“You’re my Cinco de Mayo, just so you know. Later I’m gonna hang with Roy. And Dick.” Kyle nods slowly, applying some carnitas into a soft tortilla. “I’d invite you, but…ahaha wow, how do things turn so weird with the return of just one dude?”
Excellent, a blush. Kate added it to her internal tally as she sucked on the slice of lime for just a quick moment. It was his fault, really, for mentioning ‘culo’. With that and that news article he’d posted recently, it really was.
"Nah, go ahead," she said, settling at the counter, then continued. "Frankly, I’m pretty sure he’ll stay longer than he means to," she said, putting together a taco, head cocked a little as she turned to look at Kyle over her shoulder. “Most people around here do.
"And I’m good, really. Getting too old to be a party animal, and that’d make shit really weird, you’re right." She was only slightly regretful that she was Too Old For That, actually. It had always been ridiculous tiresome, and besides, they surely didn’t want to hear her running gender theory commentary while trying to hit on people. Even if Kyle would expect it.
"It’s all about history, ese. How much history people have with someone, how much has changed in the meantime. Unfortunately, as an instigator of change, I end up looking…well, making shit worse." Kate was only slightly bitter.
“Viene aquí, mami,” Kyle said, with just a slight petulance to his voice. She was in a somewhat wicked mood with him and so he was determined to milk it. He motioned for her to be near him. ”I don’t wanna keep twisting to look at you.” Kyle sat back on the couch, plate held under his taco as he ate.
“You think he’ll stay, huh? I dunno. It’d be nice but…I dunno. Anyway.” All of this was blatant speculation, and everything was too early to over-think. “We’ll see how it goes.”
He nodded congenially at her decline of his half-ass invite, drinking some water but pausing in surprise at the bitter turn. “You…wait, what? Making shit worse, aw Kate.” He sat up more, not to alarm her further, but just curious to see where she was going with this. “What do you mean?”
"You’re not the boss of me, Lantern Rayner," Kate retorted in a mock teenager style, but she sidled over the the couch anyway, knowing when she was risking epic poutage on Kyle’s part by doing anything else. She managed to settle in without making a mess, nibbling on a stray piece of meat as she did.
At the mention of Roy’s staying, she lifted an eyebrow. “I know how stuff goes around here, ese," she says. “He doesn’t mean to stay, but since when does stuff ever go according to plan around here? There’s always a curveball. I’m not saying I’m upset about it," she clarified. “About Roy sticking around."
It did make Lian seriously diva-tastic though. Kate made a mental note to have a word with Rose about it and maybe buy her that leather jacket she’d been bitching about as an incentive. If anyone could even vaguely calm Lian down, it was her.
"Look, if Ollie’s changed, it’ll look like it’s because of me, and if Roy doesn’t like that, then it’s my fault. And lately, Kyle, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everything I plan convierte en mierda, or people misinterpret it, or whatever. Same law of averages as Roy’s plans changing, it seems."
Kate and more food came Kyle’s way, and he watched her approaching with obvious delight. Her casual black jersey 3/4 pants and dark t-shirt, hair in a pony tail, still chewing in a way that was both matter-of-fact and clearly enjoying it.
“This’s really good. You know all the good Mexican places in LA,” Kyle said and his voice got a little soft and sad at the end, in a way he’d only let her hear because she’s the only one who understood. They never really explicitly talked about it, though. He wasn’t even sure he knew what to talk about, anyway. Sometimes just being near Kate was all he needed, he figured.
One day he’d figure out how to articulate his gratitude.
“I didn’t think you’d be upset about Roy sticking around. I mean…despite the things that…uh, happened. With that Red Lantern,” he mumbled the last bit. Not because he was feeling ashamed but…maybe the Lantern-mentality could stand to be a little more modest, across the spectrum. Maybe. Something he was thinking about a lot anyway, since Mar’i. ”You’re like almost ridiculously sensible about stuff.
“And that’s not…” Kyle was about to say, but he wasn’t going to dispute her. It wasn’t just that he didn’t think it was his place to argue it, it was also because she was kind of right. Kind of. But— ”Okay. So everyone fucks up, that’s just life. Roy’s a big boy, he seems to be wearing big boy panties.” Kyle chewed, recalling paintball. “He’s doing a lot better than I expected, actually. I mean, from first-impressions, after a long time. A good frame of mind. And if anyone knows dark, it’s Roy Harper. I just hope it goes towards understanding and not…not the other way.” He looks up to her. “But I guess that’ll be up to how Queen is with him, huh.”
Kate reached over with her clean left hand (as in, not covered in taco stuff and lime juice) to trail her fingers gently against the back of Kyle’s neck at his first comment. She didn’t know how else to comfort him there…except maybe to feed him and listen and talk bullshit en Español. It was too bad her abuela had passed on several years ago, she would have loved the hell out of Kyle. Or slapped him upside the head a lot. Out of love. Kate did that in her place, then.
She inhaled a little when he mentioned what had happened last year, though—even if she didn’t think about it much, the physical scars, and maybe even mental ones, were still there. “It wasn’t him. He doesn’t even act like that." Mostly, except for a little bit of the attitude problem. “I don’t try to be so sensible, it just…"
How the hell could she explain it? That she’d learned that someone had to carry the fuck on or no one would? Maybe Kyle’d get it anyway.
"And me too," she added. “I think there could be a hell of a lot of misunderstandings on everyone’s part. Fuck, cariño, I need another drink," and she downed the rest of her taco first, mouth full.
Her fingers were warm and dry but soft, and gave him that pleasant little shiver as he looked up from his almost-finished taco, licking the small bits of cilantro from his fingers. ”I called my aunt today. Mom’s sister in law, she…” Kyle sighed suddenly, voice feeling heavy. “I dunno why, I haven’t talked to her in years. I dunno. You…” Kyle turned a little, wiping his hands clean on a napkin and trying to ootch her closer.
“…you know you try to pull all these people around you, and you tell yourself that blood doesn’t mean everything and you can choose your family instead of being born into it, but sometimes…ahhh. Sometimes.” Kyle rapped his knuckles on his forehead, as if trying to tap down thoughts.
“And then there’s the Arrow family, y’know. Or the Bats. Barely any relation between them from one generation to the next and yet I still look at them both and I think - wow. Screw blood. That’s freaking family, right there. With all the estrangement and fights and disagreements…it’s still family, y’know? How the fuck do they do that?”
He laughed suddenly, loud and almost bordering on cheery. “Wow! Where did all that come from? Gimme another drink too, querida, por favor.”
Instinctively, Kate pressed her fingertips down a little against Kyle’s skin when he shivered, comforting. They lingered further when she heard the tone of his voice when it came to discussing his aunt, and she let him tug her in as he tried to get his head in order.
And then she let him try and figure out his thoughts before she said anything. With Kyle, it was easier to do it that way, when it came to something serious like this, when it was obviously something he wasn’t trying to dodge, but was something he was trying to put into words that would have been a lot easier for him to put onto paper or canvas or a screen.
"It’s…hell, it’s not something I really understand either," she admitted, finishing her taco before getting up and wiping her hands before she made margaritas right there at the counter. “Some people are just good at family, and they bring other people in, and it’s…there has to be the right environment, the right kind of love and the mix of people even when they don’t get along. Especially when they don’t get along."
Kate brought the drinks back over, flopping down next to him with her one arm draped over the back of the sofa. Didn’t mean she was going to let him drop the topic straight off.
“Chemistry,” Kyle mused, putting his plate down and using the time apart to utilize napkins for his hands. Kate was always very particular about cleanliness at certain times in her life, he’d noticed. Or maybe it was specifically about certain things. And it was her home so he was all too happy to comply. He knew she wasn’t a clean freak, it was just about…things. Certain things.
And yet when he gratefully took the glass of margarita, Kyle pushed his finger in, stirring it a couple times and then sucking the digit off before tasting it. Perfect as usual; but now his hand was sticky. It was like some sort of odd, greater analogy for something about him and Kate, that Kyle had no words for. Not that he was trying to find them, anyway. So as she settled back down, and he stood up and went into her kitchen to wash up.
“They have chemistry,” Kyle called out. ”I mean. You’re married to one of them, you have a space in there - but it’s not exactly something you can dive into, is it. I don’t know. I’ve always been alone.” He came back around, settling this time for good, pleased that she was willing to resume contact. “Me and my mom, sabes. You and your abuela…?” Kyle drank a bit more, looking curiously at her from over the rim of his glass.
“I’m not saying it was the same or that I’m trying to shoehorn you into anything, just…I wanna know what it’s like for you.”
In short: help me understand myself by trying to understand you. Kyle knew he relied on Kate for this level of push and pull. He was definitely aware of wanting to push -and pull - as much as she did for him.
"Chemistry, if you want," Kate agreed, shrugging a little at the metaphor and lifting an eyebrow at Kyle as he went off to the sink. She just hadn’t wanted salsa all over her sofa, Pottery Barn off the shelf though it was, and newly ridiculous wealthy that she was. She wasn’t gonna throw out a couch just because of a stain, though.
Even so, she wasn’t sure exactly why her brain was in that ‘eat tidy’ mindset. Maybe it was a remnant of her abuela still…
And then Kyle kept going on when he came back, any doubts about him and her not being in the same frame of mind effectively disappearing when he mentioned her own family. Being an outsider looking in on the big stuff, or maybe less an outsider, more just a peripheral. She impulsively nuzzled into his shoulder all of a sudden, even as she still held on to her drink, still sat up on the sofa, Ms. Manhunter Spencer.
"It’s never quite the same as being part of something from the start," she said. “I think it might be better, given a year or two, but in the meantime…maybe I need the time to get past what comes out of being alone. My abuela did the best she could, si, but she couldn’t be with me every day, so I had to depend on myself, until Mom and Dad Spencer adopted me. And even then, it was sort of like having an aunt and uncle. People who cared and loved you but the fit wasn’t 100%."
Sitting up a little more, she ran her free hand through her hair. “I don’t really get this whole thing about having people to fall back on. Part of why me and Peter split up, now that I think about it; I couldn’t bring myself to the point where I could stop being afraid and depend on him to do things. He read that as me not trusting him. I don’t know if it was or not. I wanted to trust him. I trusted him, trust him still to look after Ramsey, in my conscious mind. But my soul still has that little frisson of panic when I don’t have a hand in things."
Know everything. Ferret out the truth. Expose it to the world. Be in control.
“When were you ever a part of something from the start…” Kyle asked, actually meaning it really. Maybe a question for himself as well. ”How old were you, when you were adopted?” The things Kate was saying were things he hadn’t heard before, not that he’d ever asked either. He was glad to be in enough of a good - no, aware - state of mind to hold on to it and follow her along, whatever paths she wanted to tread.
“I like being able to be alone…I dunno. I mean I’m not lonely, that’s for sure.” Not anymore. ”But all my life, I liked being…independently dependent, ahaha. Hal makes it easy, he’s the same damn way, and. I guess. I guess you got something like that with you and Ollie too…although.”
He laughed a little to himself, shaking his head at how similar and different they were. “I don’t do the fingers-in-every-pie like you do…but I can get why you do. Why you need to, like. You, in particular.” He huffed, slight frustration suddenly surfacing. “I feel like sometimes I’m just a spectator in all this, y’know? La raza. I want to be part of it, but I’m not, I can’t be, I didn’t grow up that way, I’m still Irish, through and through. But you live it and…” Kyle pauses, knowing what he wanted to say. Actually saying it though still sounded a little awkward in his mind’s ear. Still -
“…and being a woman, too.” He winced a little. That sounded ridiculously awkward. “YouknowwhatImean. Lo siento,” he added in a rush.
"I was part of my life from the start," said Kate simply and left that at that. “And I was adopted when I was twelve and a half, thirteen. One of those ridiculously lucky kids, to get a decent permanent place when I was no longer cute and cheerful." Old enough to have nearly everything engrained.
She wasn’t bitter, at least not about what had happened to her. What was wrong with the system was something else entirely.
"I used to think I liked being alone," she said, and took a gulp from her drink, almost a little too fast. “And I still do, a little, I still like being able to move freely, to not feel guilty about work all the time—with Peter it was always this subtle ‘why aren’t you here, why do you need to do so much’. Which actually drove me to do more, stubborn, I guess."
As for the rest of Kyle’s comment, she lifted an eyebrow—she got what he meant about culture, but the ‘being a woman too’ part made her sporfle with laughter, gently. “It’s fine. I think what people are trying to do now, trying to get at now, is that you can be part of things in your own way, sabes? You don’t have to do special stuff to be part of la raza, because what you do IS part of it, because you’re Latino. You make that part of it. Anyone who tells you otherwise is full of shit."
“Spencers,” Kyle mused and then sat up suddenly, staring at Kate for a long moment. ”Dammit. Dammit…I feel like you told me your other last name, but I can’t remember it. Apparently I could’ve been a Vasquez,” Kyle half-laughed. ”That would’ve sounded so dumb. Kyle Vasquez, like what.”
He laughed and sat back, teasing her with small, light pinches along her arm. “Ahaaaa, I get the feeling Peter and me have some things in common, and not good things necessarily.” He was mostly amused at the thought, and it helped, in a strange way. Kate always had a way of giving him leeway to entertain ‘what ifs’, whether she consciously knew it or not. ”Makes sense, though. It took me a long time to realize that sometimes getting all needy and clingy can push people further away. Donna,” Kyle added, lost in memory.
“I don’t know. I don’t know sometimes it just feels like I’m a pretender. I feel bad, like…I don’t know. Like I shouldn’t be playing in something I got no real concept of. What makes me Latino other than blood, y’know? And I’ve never been…family oriented, other than with mom. Nature versus nurture and all that.”
"Vargas," said Kate, pursing her lips in trying not to laugh at the idea of a Kyle Vasquez. Kyle was kind of a gringo name, not to put too fine a point on it. “I went by that when I was a foster kid, Mama’s name. My abuela wouldn’t let them keep it Pratt, thank god. And then Vargas Spencer when I got adopted, after a few years. It seemed right, I don’t know. Some people called it whitewashing but the Spencers…it felt right. They were family too. And abuela was okay with it."
She grinned a little, thinking about Kyle and Peter. “You look a little similar, too, if I’m being honest." Because hell, Peter was hot, in that dark-haired rangy sort of way that Kyle was, now that she thought about it, and madre di dios that was so messed up…
Reaching over, she ran her fingers through Kyle’s hair again, fairly platonically. “Hey. Come back, cariño," she said quietly. “You’ve got it down now, You learned something. Like how I’ve learned something. Now when it comes to being part of la raza, you can be as much as you want. Blood does matter a little." That brought up things she didn’t want to think about her own, traitorous angry blood—and she took a slug from her margarita. “You want to be part of it, then you fit parts into your life. You speak Español, that’s something."
“Vargas,” Kyle repeated, as if trying to commit it to memory. ”Vasq— no. ‘Vargas y Vasquez’. On Tele Ocho,” Kyle grinned, straightening an imaginary tie. “You’d be the hotshot rule-breaking lawyer with heart of gold and I’ll be…that guy who lives down the street.” Kyle burst out laughing, clearly entertained by his own television pitch. “Ahhhh…okay. I’m gonna remember that now.”
“What’ve you learned?” he was curious, as usual, about anything to do with Kate. And she was being remarkably share-y. He supposed that’s (partly, on one level) what a certain amount of life-contentment can do, make people feel less guarded all the time. He pondered this for a while, slightly distracted from his own personal struggle.
“You’re really the only one who makes it seem like I’m not a total douchebag-o-rama when it comes to this…sabes,” he said with a teasing smile - teasing to her, or him. Or both. ”I’m just glad you don’t burst out laughing whenever I get my Mexicano on. Not that you would, obviously because you’re you, but. You know what I mean. Hnnm.” He crunched on a piece of ice.
“Don’t you ever feel…y’know. Resentful overall? How you grew up before the really nice, really gringo Spencers? I mean, like. After I met my dad, I felt pretty pissed off for a little while, and I thought I was glad my mom raised me Irish, without any connection to that side.”
Christ but it felt weird talking about this. And yet it had kind of been a year in the making.
"That artist guy who lives down the street that I have to get out of trouble," Kate added. “And there would be lots of ~melodrama~," she used spirit fingers here, “and suspense. Possibly nosy neighbors. I would so watch that show." Kyle clearly hadn’t watched quite enough telenovelas to fill in the additional blanks.
She was trying to figure out what she’d meant that she’d learned, and paused for a long second while she gathered up her thoughts. “I’ve learned…you shouldn’t have to pass anybody’s tests to be who you are," she said. “Your identity, if you have a claim to it, nobody should try and take that away from you, douchebag or no douchebag, and they shouldn’t fucking laugh."
The dregs of her margarita were mostly melted ice and bits of lime pulp, but she slurped them down anyway. Kyle chewing on ice was like fingernails on a chalkboard—mild ones, admittedly—and she was trying not to wince at it because he had had a serious question and she…for once she felt ready to talk about it.
God only knew why.
"I was resentful before, mostly when I was younger," she said, “It’s why I ended up being a lawyer in the first place, and when that didn’t work, when that didn’t stop every shitty person, I took the suit and the staff. And mostly I was resentful of Walter, because it was all his goddamn fault, the fucker. When he took Ramsey, all of that came back, and I couldn’t keep forgetting it anymore. Now that he’s dead, it’s like…what matters is making sure good people stay okay."
“I’d PVR it,” Kyle said, obviously more proud about knowing ‘new’ entertainment technology than actually knowing what he was saying. They didn’t own a PVR. Or a DVD player for that matter. Or television stations. Kyle watched everything he wanted off his Waynetech tablet.
His nonsensical nature sobered up a bit as she explained what she’d learned. He hadn’t been expecting that; not that there was anything he had been expecting her to say, but rather he thought her elaborating would be more personal-to-Kate and not so much with the resonating-to-Kyle. He got up and went to the kitchen, scrounging for some last remaining carnitas to cram into a tortilla, adding some guac and cilantro. He stood in the kitchen and ate it in two greedy bites, washing his hands as he chewed.
Eventually he returned to the living room to practically sprawl himself over Kate like a large dog. “Te amo, Kate.”
Kyle kissed her, the side of her mouth and he almost sighed against her skin in a strange sort of relief that he didn’t want to address right now. He sat up afterwards, grinning a little crookedly as he took up his drink again.
“I think about it, you know,” Kyle said suddenly, because she’d already…sort-of gone there. And since they were on this bout of bald-honesty, he figured he might as well. “Your, ah, vigilante ‘methods’ with the bad guys. Do you…I mean. Are you still doing that?” Okay so there was being open and then there was saying things Kyle wasn’t ready to say out loud. And even as he comically mimed getting beat-down by the Manhunter staff and being killed, he reprimanded himself silently for not even being able to freaking SAY the word ‘kill’ to Kate. Like honestly, Rayner, what the hell.
"DVR, cariño," Kate said gently, but wryly. “DVR." She paused as he got up and went to go stuff another taco into his face, considered whether or not she should get up and get a beer. After a moment, she decided she could slow the hell down on the drinking for now. She had to be sober later in the day anyway.
And then she was effectively tackle hugged like Kyle was a huge goddamn puppy. “Oof," she said, but she didn’t really mind all that much; it was nice to have someone being mostly platonically giving her cuddles for once (and yeah it was mostly with Kyle, probably never going to be more than ‘mostly’). “Ay, you do know you’re heavy, right? Just because Hal doesn’t complain…"
She froze, though, when he asked her if she was still…hell, call a spade a spade, Spencer, killing…in the name of justice. The fact that it was accompanied by an impromptu game of charades did ease her a little, because she had to use some energy to try frantically not to laugh at Kyle’s amateur theatrics, but still.
"Uh," she said, and found she couldn’t think of any damn way to dodge, wasn’t sure if she wanted to. “I don’t go out intending to kill people in cold blood. Not anymore." She couldn’t, actually, not now that she had no shreds of plausible deniability when it came to her real identity. “But if it happens in trying to stop someone, and it does…well, you know."
Kate also made a frantic mental note to avoid ever having this conversation with Bruce Wayne, ever.
"Okay," Kyle said, and as he sat there and thought about it, he realized just how little it bothered him. It used to, once upon a time. Even though he’d been tempted many, many times to kill; even though he’d decapitated and maimed and tortured, he still clung to that kernel of moral standards when it came to out-right killing.
But that was before Parallax.
One thing he wouldn’t admit to his GLC, but after being controlled by that monster, Kyle was left with a feeling that maybe killing had its place in the ‘verse. Maybe Kate was right to do so. He watched her quietly for a while, almost to the brink of making her feel self-conscious. He always admired and respected her ethics and philosophies; and for a long time it was easy to just pull a Hal Jordan and pretend that certain things just didn’t exist and/or everything was a-okay, as-is.
"I’m glad I asked. I don’t regret it, and…I think you’re right." Kyle said slowly, almost tasting the words. “No really, I mean that - this isn’t the usual falling-over-myself agreement that I usually do with anything you say." He made a wry face, mostly at himself.
"There’ve always been issues we disagreed about, and…and I guess we just ignored it because, well. I ignored it because I love you so much that it wasn’t relevant. But this. I think now I get it. I think I understand now and you’re right, Kate. You’re right."
He felt a twinge of wrongness in saying that, Kyle had to admit to himself. But once it was said, it was said.
Kate ended up running her fingers through her hair, somewhat nervously, as Kyle watched her; brow furrowing, eyes narrowing a little. What he said, though, that was surprising, and while it wasn’t the kind of thing that got her to do a double take, it did take her a minute or two to process that Kyle…was actually agreeing with her.
“Okay,” she said, and reached out to cup his cheek, dead serious now, because he was. She was a little reluctant to ask the next question, the obvious one, but it wasn’t exactly like he hadn’t just asked her a load of hard questions this afternoon.
“We did leave it go,” she said. “Both of us. And honestly? The falling over yourself thing gets a little hard to take, because god, I sure as hell don’t think I’m that right. But Kyle, cariño—”
Just time to get out with it, even if he clammed up. She could badger it out if she wanted. “What’s changed?”
"That’s a funny question." Kyle said, almost wryly. “Shouldn’t it be ‘what hasn’t changed’?" He laughed, enjoying the irony. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it. I’m saying you’re right this time even though it isn’t the usual kind of ‘you’re right’, because dios knows that sorta pressure on anyone to be always right must suck, particularly you…to be seen as always ‘right’. Whatever ‘right’ means. Same thing as ‘change’, I guess. Subjective definitions for glossy words."
He was rambling now, even he was conscious of it, but it was Kate. She’d put up with way worse, from him.
"It doesn’t matter," Kyle said, and then he clarified. “We’ll talk about it more later. We got a lotta ground covered today, Ms Spencer," Kyle couldn’t help but tease her, holding his hand out for her to shake. His grin said it all.
"Thanks, by the way. For everything - letting me go on, telling me stuff…this was great. You may not always be right, but you’re definitely awesomest to the nth degree, Kate Spencer."
It wasn’t as though he’d really planned it, per se. Kate offered of her own volition after all. But it was nice to know that when he told Guy he was planning to spend Sunday in LA, he wasn’t making a pretense of it. It wasn’t North Hollywood but it was Kate and that was way better.
He had just felt suddenly weird about actually asking her. It seemed so.excluding to others, particularly in the midst of birthdays and geeky hangouts and other things.
But Kate understood, somehow. Damn, Kyle loved his friends.
He showed up at her apartment (using the balcony; they were Lantern launchpads, in his mind) with a lot of tequila and beer.
“Kaaaaaate. Kaaaate Kate Kate,” Kyle tapped on her glass, trying not to peer in. ”Let the right one in, Kate. Estoy aquiiiiiiii, mami.”
Kate was a little worried about Kyle, from what he’d been saying. Not that this was anything new, but still. And yeah, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she needed a few hours away from the hive of melodrama that was Star City at the moment, because even with things more under control, the tension was fucking ridiculous.
Not running away, just wanting to spend some time celebrating the Battle of Puebla in LA, and get her head together.
She’d spared them both the epic disaster that would be her trying to make the carnitas and instead had gotten takeout from the best place on the north side. To her credit, she had mashed the shit out of some aguacates to make fresh guacamole, because even the restaurant stuff was usually stale.
"Ay, papí, what liquor store did you knock over?" she said, pulling open the patio door, chewing on an empanada. “Madre di dios, I have to be mostly sober by this evening, sabes, liquid lunch or not." Not that they’d have any lack of food either. There was a reason she was already eating, and that was because it had smelled too damn good.
Kyle chuckled, heading into her kitchen and unloading the booze, placing the beer in the fridge. He came over to her and looped a hand around her hip, leaning in for a kiss on her cheek…and also nabbing a homemade (from eatery) tortilla chip from the table behind her, digging it into the bowl of guacamole and chomping on it.
“Consider it payment for having to put up with mi culo penoso for a few whiny hours. I’ll need the tequila right now, though.” He opened her fridge, peering around until he found a lime, juggling it up and grabbing a knife to quickly segment it.
“Quite a day yesterday, huh? Mia seemed okay when I was talking to her, but…everyone else was, kinda, yeah. No. Yeah. Roy.” Kyle grinned, lime rind in his mouth as he poured a couple shots for them. “You doing okay?”
"I shall persevere valiantly in the name of our ancestors when it comes to dealing with your culo," said Kate, flicking Kyle in the bicep as he leaned around her and dug straight into the guac. She smirked at him, laying the innuendo on plenty thick. “It’s a day for battles, after all."
She pulled the carnitas box out of the oven where she’d been keeping it warm, along with some tortillas and other condiments…and a copious amount of paper towels in case of mess. It gave her time to heave a long soft sigh at the subject matter of the conversation—not at Kyle, but at the situation.
"If I was gonna play into stereotypes today?" she said. “It was like a fucking telenovela. Ollie somewhere between nearly jumping out of his skin or demanding someone go kill the fatted calf, all Bible-style. Roy…I don’t even fucking know. Lian completely losing any understanding that she should not be a diva for her aunt’s birthday. And Damian being his usual reactive self. I don’t know, it’s almost got me wanting to play la malvada madrastra just because it feels expected. Poor Mia."
Reaching over, she saluted him wryly with the small glass, then took the shot quick and fast.
“Nyuk nyuk nyuk,” Kyle said, but he really was laughing, and turning slightly red from all the innuendo. In a completely good way, of course; he loved being teased, particularly by people who knew how to do it well. Kate definitely always fell into that category, and she put Kyle completely at ease, playful even. Like coming home…some imaginary home, anyway.
He got them more tequila and some water as well, heading to the living room with the alcohol and fiddling with her air conditioning, just a bit. Enough so their skin and clothes wouldn’t get tacky from cuddling; which Kyle intended to get done. He was craving some casual contact, and particularly from Kate. ”You don’t mind if we eat here, do you? Please please - I’m not in the mood for stuffy dining table eating.”
He sighed vocally, listening to her assessment of the situation. “Well, I hope it all works out, for all of you. He’s…ah…he’s not staying for long though. So I hear. Kind of a Roy-tornado it seems. Here, then gone. ” Kyle reached for more chips and guacamole, making a pleased noise at how nice it tasted. Outside, a boom box blared out Mexican pop, youthful voices joking and hollering gleefully en espanol.
“You’re my Cinco de Mayo, just so you know. Later I’m gonna hang with Roy. And Dick.” Kyle nods slowly, applying some carnitas into a soft tortilla. “I’d invite you, but…ahaha wow, how do things turn so weird with the return of just one dude?”
Excellent, a blush. Kate added it to her internal tally as she sucked on the slice of lime for just a quick moment. It was his fault, really, for mentioning ‘culo’. With that and that news article he’d posted recently, it really was.
"Nah, go ahead," she said, settling at the counter, then continued. "Frankly, I’m pretty sure he’ll stay longer than he means to," she said, putting together a taco, head cocked a little as she turned to look at Kyle over her shoulder. “Most people around here do.
"And I’m good, really. Getting too old to be a party animal, and that’d make shit really weird, you’re right." She was only slightly regretful that she was Too Old For That, actually. It had always been ridiculous tiresome, and besides, they surely didn’t want to hear her running gender theory commentary while trying to hit on people. Even if Kyle would expect it.
"It’s all about history, ese. How much history people have with someone, how much has changed in the meantime. Unfortunately, as an instigator of change, I end up looking…well, making shit worse." Kate was only slightly bitter.
“Viene aquí, mami,” Kyle said, with just a slight petulance to his voice. She was in a somewhat wicked mood with him and so he was determined to milk it. He motioned for her to be near him. ”I don’t wanna keep twisting to look at you.” Kyle sat back on the couch, plate held under his taco as he ate.
“You think he’ll stay, huh? I dunno. It’d be nice but…I dunno. Anyway.” All of this was blatant speculation, and everything was too early to over-think. “We’ll see how it goes.”
He nodded congenially at her decline of his half-ass invite, drinking some water but pausing in surprise at the bitter turn. “You…wait, what? Making shit worse, aw Kate.” He sat up more, not to alarm her further, but just curious to see where she was going with this. “What do you mean?”
"You’re not the boss of me, Lantern Rayner," Kate retorted in a mock teenager style, but she sidled over the the couch anyway, knowing when she was risking epic poutage on Kyle’s part by doing anything else. She managed to settle in without making a mess, nibbling on a stray piece of meat as she did.
At the mention of Roy’s staying, she lifted an eyebrow. “I know how stuff goes around here, ese," she says. “He doesn’t mean to stay, but since when does stuff ever go according to plan around here? There’s always a curveball. I’m not saying I’m upset about it," she clarified. “About Roy sticking around."
It did make Lian seriously diva-tastic though. Kate made a mental note to have a word with Rose about it and maybe buy her that leather jacket she’d been bitching about as an incentive. If anyone could even vaguely calm Lian down, it was her.
"Look, if Ollie’s changed, it’ll look like it’s because of me, and if Roy doesn’t like that, then it’s my fault. And lately, Kyle, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everything I plan convierte en mierda, or people misinterpret it, or whatever. Same law of averages as Roy’s plans changing, it seems."
Kate and more food came Kyle’s way, and he watched her approaching with obvious delight. Her casual black jersey 3/4 pants and dark t-shirt, hair in a pony tail, still chewing in a way that was both matter-of-fact and clearly enjoying it.
“This’s really good. You know all the good Mexican places in LA,” Kyle said and his voice got a little soft and sad at the end, in a way he’d only let her hear because she’s the only one who understood. They never really explicitly talked about it, though. He wasn’t even sure he knew what to talk about, anyway. Sometimes just being near Kate was all he needed, he figured.
One day he’d figure out how to articulate his gratitude.
“I didn’t think you’d be upset about Roy sticking around. I mean…despite the things that…uh, happened. With that Red Lantern,” he mumbled the last bit. Not because he was feeling ashamed but…maybe the Lantern-mentality could stand to be a little more modest, across the spectrum. Maybe. Something he was thinking about a lot anyway, since Mar’i. ”You’re like almost ridiculously sensible about stuff.
“And that’s not…” Kyle was about to say, but he wasn’t going to dispute her. It wasn’t just that he didn’t think it was his place to argue it, it was also because she was kind of right. Kind of. But— ”Okay. So everyone fucks up, that’s just life. Roy’s a big boy, he seems to be wearing big boy panties.” Kyle chewed, recalling paintball. “He’s doing a lot better than I expected, actually. I mean, from first-impressions, after a long time. A good frame of mind. And if anyone knows dark, it’s Roy Harper. I just hope it goes towards understanding and not…not the other way.” He looks up to her. “But I guess that’ll be up to how Queen is with him, huh.”
Kate reached over with her clean left hand (as in, not covered in taco stuff and lime juice) to trail her fingers gently against the back of Kyle’s neck at his first comment. She didn’t know how else to comfort him there…except maybe to feed him and listen and talk bullshit en Español. It was too bad her abuela had passed on several years ago, she would have loved the hell out of Kyle. Or slapped him upside the head a lot. Out of love. Kate did that in her place, then.
She inhaled a little when he mentioned what had happened last year, though—even if she didn’t think about it much, the physical scars, and maybe even mental ones, were still there. “It wasn’t him. He doesn’t even act like that." Mostly, except for a little bit of the attitude problem. “I don’t try to be so sensible, it just…"
How the hell could she explain it? That she’d learned that someone had to carry the fuck on or no one would? Maybe Kyle’d get it anyway.
"And me too," she added. “I think there could be a hell of a lot of misunderstandings on everyone’s part. Fuck, cariño, I need another drink," and she downed the rest of her taco first, mouth full.
Her fingers were warm and dry but soft, and gave him that pleasant little shiver as he looked up from his almost-finished taco, licking the small bits of cilantro from his fingers. ”I called my aunt today. Mom’s sister in law, she…” Kyle sighed suddenly, voice feeling heavy. “I dunno why, I haven’t talked to her in years. I dunno. You…” Kyle turned a little, wiping his hands clean on a napkin and trying to ootch her closer.
“…you know you try to pull all these people around you, and you tell yourself that blood doesn’t mean everything and you can choose your family instead of being born into it, but sometimes…ahhh. Sometimes.” Kyle rapped his knuckles on his forehead, as if trying to tap down thoughts.
“And then there’s the Arrow family, y’know. Or the Bats. Barely any relation between them from one generation to the next and yet I still look at them both and I think - wow. Screw blood. That’s freaking family, right there. With all the estrangement and fights and disagreements…it’s still family, y’know? How the fuck do they do that?”
He laughed suddenly, loud and almost bordering on cheery. “Wow! Where did all that come from? Gimme another drink too, querida, por favor.”
Instinctively, Kate pressed her fingertips down a little against Kyle’s skin when he shivered, comforting. They lingered further when she heard the tone of his voice when it came to discussing his aunt, and she let him tug her in as he tried to get his head in order.
And then she let him try and figure out his thoughts before she said anything. With Kyle, it was easier to do it that way, when it came to something serious like this, when it was obviously something he wasn’t trying to dodge, but was something he was trying to put into words that would have been a lot easier for him to put onto paper or canvas or a screen.
"It’s…hell, it’s not something I really understand either," she admitted, finishing her taco before getting up and wiping her hands before she made margaritas right there at the counter. “Some people are just good at family, and they bring other people in, and it’s…there has to be the right environment, the right kind of love and the mix of people even when they don’t get along. Especially when they don’t get along."
Kate brought the drinks back over, flopping down next to him with her one arm draped over the back of the sofa. Didn’t mean she was going to let him drop the topic straight off.
“Chemistry,” Kyle mused, putting his plate down and using the time apart to utilize napkins for his hands. Kate was always very particular about cleanliness at certain times in her life, he’d noticed. Or maybe it was specifically about certain things. And it was her home so he was all too happy to comply. He knew she wasn’t a clean freak, it was just about…things. Certain things.
And yet when he gratefully took the glass of margarita, Kyle pushed his finger in, stirring it a couple times and then sucking the digit off before tasting it. Perfect as usual; but now his hand was sticky. It was like some sort of odd, greater analogy for something about him and Kate, that Kyle had no words for. Not that he was trying to find them, anyway. So as she settled back down, and he stood up and went into her kitchen to wash up.
“They have chemistry,” Kyle called out. ”I mean. You’re married to one of them, you have a space in there - but it’s not exactly something you can dive into, is it. I don’t know. I’ve always been alone.” He came back around, settling this time for good, pleased that she was willing to resume contact. “Me and my mom, sabes. You and your abuela…?” Kyle drank a bit more, looking curiously at her from over the rim of his glass.
“I’m not saying it was the same or that I’m trying to shoehorn you into anything, just…I wanna know what it’s like for you.”
In short: help me understand myself by trying to understand you. Kyle knew he relied on Kate for this level of push and pull. He was definitely aware of wanting to push -and pull - as much as she did for him.
"Chemistry, if you want," Kate agreed, shrugging a little at the metaphor and lifting an eyebrow at Kyle as he went off to the sink. She just hadn’t wanted salsa all over her sofa, Pottery Barn off the shelf though it was, and newly ridiculous wealthy that she was. She wasn’t gonna throw out a couch just because of a stain, though.
Even so, she wasn’t sure exactly why her brain was in that ‘eat tidy’ mindset. Maybe it was a remnant of her abuela still…
And then Kyle kept going on when he came back, any doubts about him and her not being in the same frame of mind effectively disappearing when he mentioned her own family. Being an outsider looking in on the big stuff, or maybe less an outsider, more just a peripheral. She impulsively nuzzled into his shoulder all of a sudden, even as she still held on to her drink, still sat up on the sofa, Ms. Manhunter Spencer.
"It’s never quite the same as being part of something from the start," she said. “I think it might be better, given a year or two, but in the meantime…maybe I need the time to get past what comes out of being alone. My abuela did the best she could, si, but she couldn’t be with me every day, so I had to depend on myself, until Mom and Dad Spencer adopted me. And even then, it was sort of like having an aunt and uncle. People who cared and loved you but the fit wasn’t 100%."
Sitting up a little more, she ran her free hand through her hair. “I don’t really get this whole thing about having people to fall back on. Part of why me and Peter split up, now that I think about it; I couldn’t bring myself to the point where I could stop being afraid and depend on him to do things. He read that as me not trusting him. I don’t know if it was or not. I wanted to trust him. I trusted him, trust him still to look after Ramsey, in my conscious mind. But my soul still has that little frisson of panic when I don’t have a hand in things."
Know everything. Ferret out the truth. Expose it to the world. Be in control.
“When were you ever a part of something from the start…” Kyle asked, actually meaning it really. Maybe a question for himself as well. ”How old were you, when you were adopted?” The things Kate was saying were things he hadn’t heard before, not that he’d ever asked either. He was glad to be in enough of a good - no, aware - state of mind to hold on to it and follow her along, whatever paths she wanted to tread.
“I like being able to be alone…I dunno. I mean I’m not lonely, that’s for sure.” Not anymore. ”But all my life, I liked being…independently dependent, ahaha. Hal makes it easy, he’s the same damn way, and. I guess. I guess you got something like that with you and Ollie too…although.”
He laughed a little to himself, shaking his head at how similar and different they were. “I don’t do the fingers-in-every-pie like you do…but I can get why you do. Why you need to, like. You, in particular.” He huffed, slight frustration suddenly surfacing. “I feel like sometimes I’m just a spectator in all this, y’know? La raza. I want to be part of it, but I’m not, I can’t be, I didn’t grow up that way, I’m still Irish, through and through. But you live it and…” Kyle pauses, knowing what he wanted to say. Actually saying it though still sounded a little awkward in his mind’s ear. Still -
“…and being a woman, too.” He winced a little. That sounded ridiculously awkward. “YouknowwhatImean. Lo siento,” he added in a rush.
"I was part of my life from the start," said Kate simply and left that at that. “And I was adopted when I was twelve and a half, thirteen. One of those ridiculously lucky kids, to get a decent permanent place when I was no longer cute and cheerful." Old enough to have nearly everything engrained.
She wasn’t bitter, at least not about what had happened to her. What was wrong with the system was something else entirely.
"I used to think I liked being alone," she said, and took a gulp from her drink, almost a little too fast. “And I still do, a little, I still like being able to move freely, to not feel guilty about work all the time—with Peter it was always this subtle ‘why aren’t you here, why do you need to do so much’. Which actually drove me to do more, stubborn, I guess."
As for the rest of Kyle’s comment, she lifted an eyebrow—she got what he meant about culture, but the ‘being a woman too’ part made her sporfle with laughter, gently. “It’s fine. I think what people are trying to do now, trying to get at now, is that you can be part of things in your own way, sabes? You don’t have to do special stuff to be part of la raza, because what you do IS part of it, because you’re Latino. You make that part of it. Anyone who tells you otherwise is full of shit."
“Spencers,” Kyle mused and then sat up suddenly, staring at Kate for a long moment. ”Dammit. Dammit…I feel like you told me your other last name, but I can’t remember it. Apparently I could’ve been a Vasquez,” Kyle half-laughed. ”That would’ve sounded so dumb. Kyle Vasquez, like what.”
He laughed and sat back, teasing her with small, light pinches along her arm. “Ahaaaa, I get the feeling Peter and me have some things in common, and not good things necessarily.” He was mostly amused at the thought, and it helped, in a strange way. Kate always had a way of giving him leeway to entertain ‘what ifs’, whether she consciously knew it or not. ”Makes sense, though. It took me a long time to realize that sometimes getting all needy and clingy can push people further away. Donna,” Kyle added, lost in memory.
“I don’t know. I don’t know sometimes it just feels like I’m a pretender. I feel bad, like…I don’t know. Like I shouldn’t be playing in something I got no real concept of. What makes me Latino other than blood, y’know? And I’ve never been…family oriented, other than with mom. Nature versus nurture and all that.”
"Vargas," said Kate, pursing her lips in trying not to laugh at the idea of a Kyle Vasquez. Kyle was kind of a gringo name, not to put too fine a point on it. “I went by that when I was a foster kid, Mama’s name. My abuela wouldn’t let them keep it Pratt, thank god. And then Vargas Spencer when I got adopted, after a few years. It seemed right, I don’t know. Some people called it whitewashing but the Spencers…it felt right. They were family too. And abuela was okay with it."
She grinned a little, thinking about Kyle and Peter. “You look a little similar, too, if I’m being honest." Because hell, Peter was hot, in that dark-haired rangy sort of way that Kyle was, now that she thought about it, and madre di dios that was so messed up…
Reaching over, she ran her fingers through Kyle’s hair again, fairly platonically. “Hey. Come back, cariño," she said quietly. “You’ve got it down now, You learned something. Like how I’ve learned something. Now when it comes to being part of la raza, you can be as much as you want. Blood does matter a little." That brought up things she didn’t want to think about her own, traitorous angry blood—and she took a slug from her margarita. “You want to be part of it, then you fit parts into your life. You speak Español, that’s something."
“Vargas,” Kyle repeated, as if trying to commit it to memory. ”Vasq— no. ‘Vargas y Vasquez’. On Tele Ocho,” Kyle grinned, straightening an imaginary tie. “You’d be the hotshot rule-breaking lawyer with heart of gold and I’ll be…that guy who lives down the street.” Kyle burst out laughing, clearly entertained by his own television pitch. “Ahhhh…okay. I’m gonna remember that now.”
“What’ve you learned?” he was curious, as usual, about anything to do with Kate. And she was being remarkably share-y. He supposed that’s (partly, on one level) what a certain amount of life-contentment can do, make people feel less guarded all the time. He pondered this for a while, slightly distracted from his own personal struggle.
“You’re really the only one who makes it seem like I’m not a total douchebag-o-rama when it comes to this…sabes,” he said with a teasing smile - teasing to her, or him. Or both. ”I’m just glad you don’t burst out laughing whenever I get my Mexicano on. Not that you would, obviously because you’re you, but. You know what I mean. Hnnm.” He crunched on a piece of ice.
“Don’t you ever feel…y’know. Resentful overall? How you grew up before the really nice, really gringo Spencers? I mean, like. After I met my dad, I felt pretty pissed off for a little while, and I thought I was glad my mom raised me Irish, without any connection to that side.”
Christ but it felt weird talking about this. And yet it had kind of been a year in the making.
"That artist guy who lives down the street that I have to get out of trouble," Kate added. “And there would be lots of ~melodrama~," she used spirit fingers here, “and suspense. Possibly nosy neighbors. I would so watch that show." Kyle clearly hadn’t watched quite enough telenovelas to fill in the additional blanks.
She was trying to figure out what she’d meant that she’d learned, and paused for a long second while she gathered up her thoughts. “I’ve learned…you shouldn’t have to pass anybody’s tests to be who you are," she said. “Your identity, if you have a claim to it, nobody should try and take that away from you, douchebag or no douchebag, and they shouldn’t fucking laugh."
The dregs of her margarita were mostly melted ice and bits of lime pulp, but she slurped them down anyway. Kyle chewing on ice was like fingernails on a chalkboard—mild ones, admittedly—and she was trying not to wince at it because he had had a serious question and she…for once she felt ready to talk about it.
God only knew why.
"I was resentful before, mostly when I was younger," she said, “It’s why I ended up being a lawyer in the first place, and when that didn’t work, when that didn’t stop every shitty person, I took the suit and the staff. And mostly I was resentful of Walter, because it was all his goddamn fault, the fucker. When he took Ramsey, all of that came back, and I couldn’t keep forgetting it anymore. Now that he’s dead, it’s like…what matters is making sure good people stay okay."
“I’d PVR it,” Kyle said, obviously more proud about knowing ‘new’ entertainment technology than actually knowing what he was saying. They didn’t own a PVR. Or a DVD player for that matter. Or television stations. Kyle watched everything he wanted off his Waynetech tablet.
His nonsensical nature sobered up a bit as she explained what she’d learned. He hadn’t been expecting that; not that there was anything he had been expecting her to say, but rather he thought her elaborating would be more personal-to-Kate and not so much with the resonating-to-Kyle. He got up and went to the kitchen, scrounging for some last remaining carnitas to cram into a tortilla, adding some guac and cilantro. He stood in the kitchen and ate it in two greedy bites, washing his hands as he chewed.
Eventually he returned to the living room to practically sprawl himself over Kate like a large dog. “Te amo, Kate.”
Kyle kissed her, the side of her mouth and he almost sighed against her skin in a strange sort of relief that he didn’t want to address right now. He sat up afterwards, grinning a little crookedly as he took up his drink again.
“I think about it, you know,” Kyle said suddenly, because she’d already…sort-of gone there. And since they were on this bout of bald-honesty, he figured he might as well. “Your, ah, vigilante ‘methods’ with the bad guys. Do you…I mean. Are you still doing that?” Okay so there was being open and then there was saying things Kyle wasn’t ready to say out loud. And even as he comically mimed getting beat-down by the Manhunter staff and being killed, he reprimanded himself silently for not even being able to freaking SAY the word ‘kill’ to Kate. Like honestly, Rayner, what the hell.
"DVR, cariño," Kate said gently, but wryly. “DVR." She paused as he got up and went to go stuff another taco into his face, considered whether or not she should get up and get a beer. After a moment, she decided she could slow the hell down on the drinking for now. She had to be sober later in the day anyway.
And then she was effectively tackle hugged like Kyle was a huge goddamn puppy. “Oof," she said, but she didn’t really mind all that much; it was nice to have someone being mostly platonically giving her cuddles for once (and yeah it was mostly with Kyle, probably never going to be more than ‘mostly’). “Ay, you do know you’re heavy, right? Just because Hal doesn’t complain…"
She froze, though, when he asked her if she was still…hell, call a spade a spade, Spencer, killing…in the name of justice. The fact that it was accompanied by an impromptu game of charades did ease her a little, because she had to use some energy to try frantically not to laugh at Kyle’s amateur theatrics, but still.
"Uh," she said, and found she couldn’t think of any damn way to dodge, wasn’t sure if she wanted to. “I don’t go out intending to kill people in cold blood. Not anymore." She couldn’t, actually, not now that she had no shreds of plausible deniability when it came to her real identity. “But if it happens in trying to stop someone, and it does…well, you know."
Kate also made a frantic mental note to avoid ever having this conversation with Bruce Wayne, ever.
"Okay," Kyle said, and as he sat there and thought about it, he realized just how little it bothered him. It used to, once upon a time. Even though he’d been tempted many, many times to kill; even though he’d decapitated and maimed and tortured, he still clung to that kernel of moral standards when it came to out-right killing.
But that was before Parallax.
One thing he wouldn’t admit to his GLC, but after being controlled by that monster, Kyle was left with a feeling that maybe killing had its place in the ‘verse. Maybe Kate was right to do so. He watched her quietly for a while, almost to the brink of making her feel self-conscious. He always admired and respected her ethics and philosophies; and for a long time it was easy to just pull a Hal Jordan and pretend that certain things just didn’t exist and/or everything was a-okay, as-is.
"I’m glad I asked. I don’t regret it, and…I think you’re right." Kyle said slowly, almost tasting the words. “No really, I mean that - this isn’t the usual falling-over-myself agreement that I usually do with anything you say." He made a wry face, mostly at himself.
"There’ve always been issues we disagreed about, and…and I guess we just ignored it because, well. I ignored it because I love you so much that it wasn’t relevant. But this. I think now I get it. I think I understand now and you’re right, Kate. You’re right."
He felt a twinge of wrongness in saying that, Kyle had to admit to himself. But once it was said, it was said.
Kate ended up running her fingers through her hair, somewhat nervously, as Kyle watched her; brow furrowing, eyes narrowing a little. What he said, though, that was surprising, and while it wasn’t the kind of thing that got her to do a double take, it did take her a minute or two to process that Kyle…was actually agreeing with her.
“Okay,” she said, and reached out to cup his cheek, dead serious now, because he was. She was a little reluctant to ask the next question, the obvious one, but it wasn’t exactly like he hadn’t just asked her a load of hard questions this afternoon.
“We did leave it go,” she said. “Both of us. And honestly? The falling over yourself thing gets a little hard to take, because god, I sure as hell don’t think I’m that right. But Kyle, cariño—”
Just time to get out with it, even if he clammed up. She could badger it out if she wanted. “What’s changed?”
"That’s a funny question." Kyle said, almost wryly. “Shouldn’t it be ‘what hasn’t changed’?" He laughed, enjoying the irony. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it. I’m saying you’re right this time even though it isn’t the usual kind of ‘you’re right’, because dios knows that sorta pressure on anyone to be always right must suck, particularly you…to be seen as always ‘right’. Whatever ‘right’ means. Same thing as ‘change’, I guess. Subjective definitions for glossy words."
He was rambling now, even he was conscious of it, but it was Kate. She’d put up with way worse, from him.
"It doesn’t matter," Kyle said, and then he clarified. “We’ll talk about it more later. We got a lotta ground covered today, Ms Spencer," Kyle couldn’t help but tease her, holding his hand out for her to shake. His grin said it all.
"Thanks, by the way. For everything - letting me go on, telling me stuff…this was great. You may not always be right, but you’re definitely awesomest to the nth degree, Kate Spencer."