#shayera x john | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

askweisswolf · 1 year

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I read Justice League Infinity. I was inspired. Suffer in hell with me.

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The piece of cake was the most delicious thing John had ever tasted.

Realistically, of course, he knew this wasn’t true. It was a piece of cake, probably something that someone had bought from a store for the occasion, and it was just as sugary and sweet as one would expect from a piece of store bought cake. It was a piece of cake he was eating though after going on a trip across the multiverse, watching that multiverse die while almost dying himself, then watching it all be reborn again, so he figured for once, he could be unrealistic. This piece of cake was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

The company was nice, too. He wasn’t about to say that part out loud, though.

He and Shayera had found a slightly quiet spot in the rafters of the tower above the party; it was close enough that they could still hear the buzz and chatter of their friends and fellow heroes, but still high enough that they could have a conversation if they so chose without having to be as close to each other as possible to be heard. John carefully cut off a small piece of cake with his fork and speared it, absently thinking that this reminded him of the last time Shayera had come looking for him when he’d been particularly down.

He didn’t say that thought out loud, either. He brought the fork to his mouth instead, lifting his gaze from the plate, and studied the Thanagarian as she looked down absently on the party below. Her own fork was caught between her teeth, her eyes soft, her lips curving slightly. She seemed content in a way John hadn’t seen her in a long time.

He spoke, finally. “See anything good down there?”

Shayera huffed out a quiet laugh, glancing at him as she lowered her fork back down to the plate. “I think so. What happened with Bruce and Diana? I swear, I’ve never seen him so attached to her before.”

“Oh, yeah.” John looked down now, and even he couldn’t help his own smile at the sight of the Amazon princess and the Caped Crusader weaving their way through the crowd. They were still holding hands; John didn’t think he’d seen them let go once since they’d returned to the tower. “It’s a long story, but short version? They rebirthed the multiverse together.”

Shayera lifted a brow. “That’s the short version?”

“Saw it with my own eyes. You want the longer version, we’re going to need more than one slice of cake.”

“I believe you. Now I’m really curious about that longer version, though. You’ll have to tell me sometime.”

What John thought was, It’s a date. The thought sent a familiar ache through his chest, though the sting didn’t linger as long as it usually did. What he said was, “I think it was good for them, honestly. Bruce looks happy.”

“Don’t know if happy’s quite the word I’d use, but yeah.” Shayera’s tone was amused, but her eyes were on their friends. “Whatever happened, he looks good.”

Shayera was probably right, now that John was properly looking at Bruce and Diana and the ache faded from his chest. Watching the two of them together, Bruce looked… not happy, exactly, John was starting to think the other man didn’t really do happy the way most people did, but he seemed content. He trailed Diana, his hand in hers, letting her tug him along, and he might not have been smiling but his shoulders were relaxed, his voice so soft John couldn’t hear him from their shared perch.

John’s gaze drifted back to Shayera, lingered for a moment before he focused on the cake again. He cut two small pieces, nudged one over to her side of the plate, and the movement got her attention; she accepted the piece with a soft “Thanks.”

John took a bite, his gaze drifting back down to Bruce and Diana. At least whatever had happened with the multiverse seemed to have worked out for them. He couldn’t quite complain with his outcome either, though–even if what had happened with Mari wasn’t exactly… ideal, Shayera was still beside him, alive.

Not where he’d expected to be when the party started, but–well. A lot of things had happened recently that he hadn’t expected. He’d always liked to think that he was good at rolling with the punches, but he was starting to wonder about that. Had been wondering about that for awhile, if he was being totally honest with himself.

Maybe that was something he needed to work on going forward, now that he had something resembling a fresh start. Honesty.

“You’re staring, Stewart.”

John blinked, realizing that at some point while he had been lost in his own head his eyes had drifted from the party back to Shayera. She’d taken it in good humor, at least; her unnaturally green eyes were gleaming with humor as she cut into the cake with her fork, and her lips were slightly curved.

“Just got lost in my own head.” He’d been absently twirling his fork while he was thinking, and he brought it down now to the plate. Shayera saw the movement and this time her small smile became a smirk as she moved her hand, lightly clashing her fork with his. John snorted out a laugh at the unexpected gesture, and for a moment it was quiet as the two of them indulged in the silliest battle they’d ever been a part of.

Shayera won. Of course she did. She was gracious in her victory though–she cut the small piece into two even smaller pieces, nudging one of them over to John’s side of the plate. “You look like you need that.”

John chuckled again. “Thanks.”

She wasn’t asking. She’d caught him staring, could clearly tell something was up, but she wasn’t asking. As John brought the piece of cake to his mouth, he realized he could simply let it go and she wouldn’t push. It seemed she was as hesitant to shatter this new peace between them as he was, and there was nothing stopping him from taking full advantage of that until he felt more prepared.

Nothing but his own thoughts.

John tapped his fork against the plate, mostly just to have something to do. “Mari broke up with me.”

Shayera was looking at him now, he could feel his eyes on her, but he kept his own gaze focused on the plate as he cut another small piece for himself. Maybe it was cowardly of him, but a part of him didn’t want to see her face now that he’d said it out loud. He didn’t know if he was ready to see how those words had made her feel. He could almost feel her thinking even without her saying a word, and as the moment continued to lengthen he absently cut his piece into something smaller and nudged it over to her side of the plate.

Shayera took it, after another moment. “I’m sorry, John.”

John. Not Stewart.

Okay then.

John shrugged, absently noting that they were starting to run low on this cake they’d been sharing. “No you’re not,” he said, and despite the words there was no bite to them, not really; maybe before he would have been angry, or hurt, or any number of emotions that weren’t good, but after going through the multiverse he mostly felt amused and a little touched that even after everything Shayera was still trying.

There was a pause, then Shayera sighed; when he didn’t feel her eyes on him anymore he lifted his gaze, watched her watch the party below them. Looking for Mari, he supposed; her wings had fluffed up slightly at some point during the conversation, but she shook herself absently and tucked them down against her back. “Maybe I’m not,” she admitted. “But you love her. I know she loves you, and she and I are… friends, despite everything.”

He hadn’t even thought of that. “Are you going to be okay?”

Shayera shrugged, brushing her hair back as she glanced at him; she must not have seen Mari in the crowd below. “I’ll manage. It’ll probably be awkward for awhile, but I know we can work it out.”

Her wings were still tucked in, relaxed. She had confidence in what she was saying, and something about that made John relax himself. She was probably right–considering Mari had been the one to initiate the break up, he was sure she’d already thought it through herself as well. They’d be fine.

The thought that Mari might have considered all this before did sting at his pride a little but, well. John couldn’t say he blamed her, especially considering the recent revelations they’d both had to deal with. “Good,” he murmured, because he was still trying to think of how to process all of that. “I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“Oh, please.” It was a laugh, now. “If anything, you just made this easier for me. We’re going to have so much shit to talk about you now, it can be a whole new bonding experience for us.”

John rested his hand over his chest in mock insult, failing to fight back the smile. “That hurts, Shayera. That’s hurtful.”

“Hate to break it to you, Stewart, but shit talking you’s always been one of our favorite bonding activities.”

Stewart again.

He wanted to ask. He didn’t. “Ouch. Fair, but still, ouch.”

Shayera laughed again, and John’s smile shifted into something small, something soft, as he basked in the sound of it. She turned her attention back to the cake for a moment, getting another small piece of it for herself, and he figured that was the end of that particular point; he would have been more than happy to leave it there.

John wondered what it said about him, that he was fresh off a break up and right after basking in the presence of another woman. Then again, it wasn’t just another woman–it was Shayera Hol, and that made all the difference in the world. It felt almost like acknowledgement, finally; accepting something he’d tried to bury but could never truly deny.

“Are you going to be okay?” Shayera was looking at him now, and he met her gaze after a moment of getting his own small piece of cake. “You–I know you wanted to stay with her.”

She could still turn on a dime, teasing him one moment and being unbearably soft in the next. John found that still kept him off balance. He loved it. He’d missed it.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he’d be fine; that the whole thing had hurt, of course, but all things considered it was probably for the best that it had ended this way, and he’d get back on his feet soon enough. It was on the tip of his tongue to say she didn’t have to worry about him, because God knew he’d burned that bridge so many times in some attempt to try and fight destiny, and a part of him still couldn’t believe she was reaching out to him anyway after that.

What he said instead was, “You died.”

John hadn’t planned to say that. He hadn’t even planned to have this conversation, ever–he’d been perfectly content to bask in the fact that Shayera was here, alive, and he’d been ready to take those images he’d seen during his fight with Amazo-II and lock them behind a thick door. Just to be safe, he would have made sure to bury the key somewhere deep and dark.

The problem was, of course, he’d said those words. He’d said those words and now Shayera was looking at him, confused and more than a little startled, and maybe it would have been easier for him to walk the whole thing back if he hadn’t been looking at her too when their eyes met.

She was alive. She was here, breathing, with her wings intact.

He’d seen her die.

“I–” John couldn’t look away from her eyes even if he wanted to. It was almost like a part of him was afraid to; that the moment he looked away, when he looked back Shayera would be gone. “I saw you,” he said, and prayed he didn’t sound as broken as he felt. “When we were facing Amazo-II.”

“I remember.” Shayera’s voice was careful, neutral. But she wasn’t pulling away from him, and she hadn’t left. She was watching him like he was a wounded animal, and she was trying to decide if it was safe to approach him or not. “J’onn–ours and the other one, they both said it was an illusion.”

“It felt pretty damn real at the time.” John took a quiet breath, hoped it wasn’t shaky. “I saw you–you were fighting with the other one, Hawkman, against Amazo-II. He was knocked out of the sky and you–”

It hadn’t been real. Shayera’s presence was proof of that.

John could still see the image clear as day in his mind. He didn’t even need to close his eyes to make the details sharper. “You weren’t fast enough,” he whispered, “or you misjudged the distance, I’m not sure. But Amazo-II grabbed you, and I couldn’t shake off the last attack in time–”

He’d set his fork against the plate, holding onto it for dear life. He was suddenly, immensely grateful that Shayera wasn’t trying to touch him; he felt like he’d shatter into pieces if she did.

“You died.” It was hoarse. “Your wings were ripped clean off your back like–like nothing. You were already dead by the time I caught you.”

John liked to think that as a concept, death no longer scared him. He’d been exposed to it often enough, between his time in the military and his years as a Green Lantern. He’d made peace with his inevitable death, though he tried not to think too much about the dying part–he had preferences for how he hoped that would go, but he’d never put much stock in hope to begin with. That was his death, though. When it came to his loved ones, it was a little… messier.

–There was a bomb, and he had no time to think, only react; John wasn’t even aware of commanding his ring to do anything, just that he’d already cast the familiar green glow around Hawkgirl and flung her away from him as hard and as fast as he could. All he could pray before the blackness hit was that he’d been fast enough, that she’d landed far enough away to survive the blast.

Alive, alive, alive had been his last thought, like a heartbeat in his head. Just let her be alive.--

It was almost funny in some kind of sick, cosmic way. For as much as a part of him had fought against the potential future, had fought against the idea of Rex, it was also that same idea that had given him the ultimate comfort. As long as even the potential of his son, their son, existed, John could be comforted by the thought that in the end Shayera would survive anything the world threw at her. Shayera could go into any battle, face any odds, and Rex’s presence in the timeline meant that she would come out the other end of it healthy and whole. Even as the multiverse had been coming undone at the seams and friends were disappearing right in front of his eyes, it had been Mari John had clung to because a part of him still believed Shayera would get through it okay.

He’d kept believing it, right up until the moment it hadn’t been true.

“John.” His name again, soft, gentle. Shayera looked like she wanted to touch him, even though she hesitated; he saw her fingers flex against her fork.

John ran his free hand over his face, exhaled quietly to try and compose himself. He barely felt put together, but he forced his other hand to move, cut another small piece off the cake and then cut it in two because that was what they’d been doing tonight. Sharing. Like this was all normal, like he hadn’t held her body in his arms, grappling with the fact his heart had stopped beating the moment her wings had been ripped from her back.

He nudged the small piece over to her side of the plate. He was immensely grateful when she took it, and ignored the way her fork shook slightly.

“I watched you die, Shayera.” He was proud of how even his voice sounded. “I’m still–processing that, I guess. Even if it wasn’t real.”

“Is that why Mari broke up with you? Because you saw… that?”

“Yeah.” He’d already spilled his heart out this much; there was no reason to hold back now. “We both saw it happen. She found me… after. Guess it made her realize some things.”

“Just her?”

Shayera’s tone was cautious, guarded, but her movements were surprisingly smooth as she focused on the cake again. She didn’t cut her piece in half this time, and John figured that was fair, considering the conversation. There was an opening there, but it was small. Even as Shayera offered it to him, he could hear it in her tone that she was just as ready to slam the door shut again depending on his response.

Honesty. He’d told himself he was going to give that a shot, and being honest had gotten him this far. It just needed to take him the rest of the way, even if he didn’t know what exactly that meant.

God help him, though, a part of him was finally ready to find out.

John played with his fork now, mostly to have something to do with his hands as he met Shayera’s gaze. She deserved that much from him, looking her in the eye. “I told you when we fought those crazy Justice Lord clones that you broke my heart.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

“You did,” John continued, “I’m not going to sit here and say I realized I was wrong, or I didn’t know what a broken heart felt like until I saw you die, because both of those things would be lies. But I did realize, watching you die, holding you after–”

It was funny; all those years ago, he’d told her he’d die for her. He had died for her, once, and she’d hauled him back from the afterlife with her own mace. He’d always meant those words; he’d just never really stopped to think about what they implied.

“... I’d take a broken heart over a heart that just stopped because you were gone. I’d rather you have all the pieces even if you smashed the damn thing yourself, then to have nothing in there because I’m alive in a world where you aren’t.”

It was cowardly of him, perhaps, but Shayera’s eyes had always been a little too sharp, a little too focused compared to humans; John found he couldn’t hold her gaze after his words, lowering his eyes instead to the fork in his hands, absently trying to smooth out the edges as he realized he’d started to bend the thing in his grip. It was cheap plastic, and he was nervous.

“So yeah.” His voice was soft, now. “I realized some things, too.”

For a moment, it was unbearably quiet between them. The party was still going on below, John was sure of it, but he couldn’t hear it. It was like he and Shayera were in a bubble, and all he could do now was wait.

It felt like he waited an eternity.

It felt like he waited a second.

He heard the moment Shayera put her fork down, that soft click against the plate that made him wince despite himself. He braced himself, either for her to fly away entirely or for her to punch him in the face, and told himself whatever she decided he would handle it as gracefully as he could.

What he hadn’t braced himself for was her fingers against his wrist, gently stilling his vain attempts at straightening out his fork. He let it go without a thought, swallowing, and something in his chest hitched painfully as she took his hand in hers, pressed his fingers against the pulse point of her wrist. John blew out a breath that might have been a sob and closed his eyes, focused on the soft but steady thump thump thump of Shayera’s heart.

Alive, alive, alive.

She was alive.

“I get it.” There was something small, something fragile in her tone now, and John opened his eyes. She was the one looking down, her eyes focused on his fingers resting against her pulse, and her wings were puffed up, the feathers almost bristling. John reacted to the sight without thinking, bringing his other hand up now so her hand was cradled in both of his, and he absently ran his thumb over her pulse point. It was nothing more than muscle memory, but it worked; Shayera blew out a quiet breath at the gesture, and he watched her wings slowly relax, her feathers settling back in place.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Shayera shrugged, lifting her eyes now to look at him. “When that bomb went off while we were dealing with the Royal Flush Gang.” She laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “If I hadn’t been scared out of my mind I would have killed you myself for doing what you did.”

This was a wound, John thought, one like his. He just couldn’t tell if it had scarred over or merely scabbed, and he needed to approach it carefully. “You never talked about that,” he said, and kept his voice soft. Curious, but unassuming.

“You never asked.”

“Fair enough.” He swallowed. “If I had, would it have changed anything?”

Several emotions rippled across Shayera’s face at once before settling on pained resignation; John wondered how often she’d considered the same thing herself. He kept running his thumb over her pulse, and that seemed to keep her heartbeat steady. “No,” she admitted, and her shoulders sagged with the word. “Even if you’d asked, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it. I didn’t even want to think about it.”

“Because you knew the Thanagarian fleet was coming? Or because of Hro?”

Shayera winced, and he felt her heart shoot up several beats under his thumb. John reacted without thinking, gently squeezing her hand. “I’m not angry,” he murmured, then paused and sighed. “Not anymore, anyway. I’ve worked through that part.” He smiled at her, and it didn’t quite meet his eyes and it felt shaky, but it didn’t hurt. “I already spilled my heart to you, you know.”

Shayera blinked furiously, wiping at her eyes with her free hand. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said, but she didn’t pull away from his gentle grip.

“Maybe not, but here I am, heart still spilled.”

“I’ll find you a cup.”

He lifted a brow. “You want me to let go?”

“No, just–give me a minute.” She pressed her hand fully to her eyes now, and John lowered his gaze to give her some privacy as she composed herself. “This was supposed to just be cake, John.”

He kept running his thumb gently over her pulse, soothing, because she hadn’t told him to stop yet; he could feel her heartbeat gradually slowing down again. “I think that was our problem,” he sighed. “It never was just anything simple with us, was it?”

“You say that like it could have been simple.”

Maybe it could have been, John thought. In a world where Shayera’s cover story hadn’t been a lie, where she’d truly been stranded on Earth with no way of getting back home again, it could have been simple. Maybe there was a world like that out there somewhere in the multiverse, and maybe it sounded simple but all that really meant was that even there the two of them still had their challenges.

That wasn’t their world, though, and John was tired of getting hung up on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

“I was always told love in general was supposed to be simple,” he said, and he heard Shayera inhale shakily; her pulse hitched under his thumb before returning to its regular rhythm, and he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze now.

“I think you were lied to.”

John shrugged. “Maybe. I was a kid.”

Shayera laughed softly. “Then you were definitely lied to.”

“I probably was.”

Shayera didn’t reply to that. John waited.

“Because of Hro.” There was an ache in her voice but it was old, faded. Another wound, but this one seemed to be less painful for her. “The invasion… I know how it must sound now, but back then I really thought I could explain it right. I thought if I had the perfect way to put it I could make you all understand.”

“You couldn’t think of how to explain him, though?”

“I was on a long term undercover mission going on five years and I’d fallen in love with another man, of course I couldn’t think of how to explain him.” There was heat in the words, but it wasn’t anger; more frustration, something John felt she’d grappled with countless times in the dark with no easy answer. “If things had gone the way the Empire wanted, we would have… there isn’t a word for it in your language. Gotten married, as humans say. And there I was on a planet that was beginning to feel more like home than my actual planet of origin, with aliens I was considering like family, and I couldn’t get your fucking heart to start beating again.”

John’s lips quirked up; he couldn’t have helped himself even if he tried to resist the impulse. “My fucking heart, huh?”

Shayera huffed softly, a sound that was a little too wet to be a laugh. “You’ve always been a pain in my ass.”

“You could have just let me die.” The words were dark, but his voice was light. “Might have saved you a lot of trouble, all things considered.”

“Maybe it would have.” Her voice was thick, now, and John pretended not to notice it. “But you put it better than I ever could have, before. I’d rather have you alive and furious with my decisions than not here at all.”

Their relationship hadn’t been going on for very long when the Thanagarians had landed on Earth, but that hadn’t slowed them down any. Those first few nights together, a part of John had wondered if Shayera even slept at all; it seemed like every time something made him stir or had jolted him awake she was already up, softly soothing with a gentle hand until he’d drifted off to sleep again. At the time he hadn’t thought about it, but hindsight was a funny thing.

“How long did it take you to start sleeping again after that bomb went off?” he asked, because she was right. He’d never asked back then, but he could now.

Shayera was quiet for a moment, and John could almost see the internal war playing out across her face before she sighed. “Awhile,” she admitted. “I don’t remember exactly how long, but… I kept having nightmares that would wake me up. Where I hadn’t been able to get your heart started again.” Her fingers twitched in his grasp. “Sometimes I just didn’t even bother sleeping. I’d just lie there with you waiting for the moment it stopped again.”

John couldn’t help feeling impressed, even with the context he had now looking back on the situation. Shayera had never let anything slip, had never indicated she was being kept awake by her own thoughts and emotions. Even under the admiration, though, another thought was being planted–she’d never talked about this. She hadn’t had anyone to talk to, anyone to help her work through what that moment had made her feel. There hadn’t been any comfort, any reassurance until now.

That was just a little too long for John’s liking.

He acted without thinking, scooting a bit closer to Shayera to make what he wanted to do easier; her eyes widened slightly but she didn’t pull away. She stayed completely still as he brought her hand up now, letting one of his fall away, and pressed her palm to his chest, right over his heart. It had stopped once, had been broken, but it was still going–a steady thump thump thump that he only hoped could bring Shayera as much comfort as her heartbeat had brought him when he’d needed it.

It worked; Shayera’s exhale was shaky and her eyes were shining and raw, but she kept her hand over his heart. After a moment she shifted, resting her head against John’s shoulder since they were close enough, and he let her without a word. They stayed pressed together like that for a long moment, both of them silent, and it was perfect.

Or, well. It would have been perfect, if either of them had remembered there was also a plate between them. They were very abruptly reminded of the fact that there had been a plate between them by the sound of smashing glass as said plate hit the floor after plunging out of the rafters, and the surprised shrieks of several partygoers.

Shayera let out a startled laugh at the sound, pulling back enough so her eyes could snap to his. “Oh shit.”

“Come on!” John reacted without thinking–had he been thinking he would have found his immediate response ridiculous, but the situation was flashing him back to his childhood and Shayera was laughing helplessly as he pulled her out of the rafters, the two of them shooting away from where they’d been sitting as fast as they could as everyone else around them tried to figure out why someone had been crazy enough to have a plate of partially eaten cake up in the rafters of the tower. He only slowed and tentatively let his feet hit the ground again once they were out in the relative darkness of the hallway; Shayera was still snickering, leaning into his arm to try and keep herself upright.

“Do you think anyone saw us?” she asked, when she’d managed to get her laughter under control. She was still leaning into his arm, still holding onto his hand, and John wondered if she realized it yet. He’d only just realized it himself; he hadn’t even thought twice about holding onto her hand during their escape, and he was certainly in no rush to let go.

Shayera tilted her head up to look up at him, green eyes gleaming with an amused smile on her lips, and John was absolutely in no rush to let go.

“I think we’re good,” he said, and the amusement in his tone made Shayera snicker again. He shook his head, gently tugging her along, and felt his chest warm at the way she let him, the way she started walking with him. “It’ll probably help if we keep moving, though. Put some distance between us and the crime scene.”

“Are we criminals now?”

“I don’t know about you, but I think whatever’s left of that cake is pretty dead.”

“That’s sad. I was enjoying that cake.”

John took a quiet breath as they kept walking. He took another breath to work up his courage, then glanced down at her; she was looking ahead, relaxed, happy. If he was going to try this, it was probably the best chance he’d get while they had a quiet moment. “If you want more cake,” he said, “I know a pretty good place back home.”

Shayera blinked, looking up at him again. “It’s still open this late?” “It’s one of those 24-hour diners. I took Wally there once, he liked it a lot. Should be quiet at this time, we could grab a booth. Get more cake, some coffee. Talk some more, if you’re up for it.”

Shayera snorted, now. “I don’t think we can talk about everything in one night, John.”

“We can’t. But we can start simple.” John stopped them in the hallway, turned properly to face Shayera. He was still holding her hand and on a whim, hoping, he laced their fingers together, saw the way her eyes shot down to their hands at the gesture.

John had never considered himself a particularly religious man, but in that moment, with the stars of space at her back, Shayera looked every bit the angel he’d learned about as a kid. Maybe he was just being a romantic, but it was a beautiful thought all the same.

Start simple. Like training.

“Hi.” He met her gaze when she looked back from their hands to his face, and smiled. “I’m John. Member of the Green Lantern Corps, in charge of Sector 2814. They sent me out to this post a few years back. I’d really like to get some cake and coffee with you at the diner, if you’re free.”

Shayera held his gaze for a moment, and then she smiled back; something small, tentative, hopeful as she squeezed his hand. “Shayera,” she said. “I used to be an instructor in the espionage wing of the Thanagarian military. I’m free.”

If they walked the rest of the way to the teleporters holding hands, well. It was as good of a new beginning as anything for them.

#john x shayera #greenhawk #hawklantern #dcau #justice league #my writing #there are like three different ship names for them so I just used them all

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