#there are so many rooms on oa. i could just crash in a random one when i need sleep

[kiseiakhun]

"Kyle," John says when Kyle flies into his office, which are just his living quarters on oa converted into a cubicle, but bigger. "You have-"

"Tits," Kyle says, framing his - her - his chest, fingers digging into the soft mounds of flesh protruding obtrusively through his paper thin uniform. Jesus, it really doesn't hide anything. "They're tits." He lifts them and lets them drop. They're not big enough to jiggle but they still - bounce. In the air.

"I see that," John says faintly, and somehow his voice remains level. It takes far more concentration than it should warrant for his gaze to remain professional when his eyes slide down, from Kyle's... chest, to his belly, to the newly protruding curve of his hips. "... why."

"Magic," Kyle says, sounding aggrieved. He pushes past John's door and looks around the room, hands on his new hips. "You still don't have a bed?"

"This is my office," John points out.

"This is your room. For you to crash in. You don't need an office. None of us need an office. Why don't you just build a new office, if you want one so bad? Mogo would let you." Kyle glances at the only other chair in John's office (room), unvarnished, uncushioned wood, and constructs an elaborate claw-footed loveseat to flop dramatically in. His tits jiggle with the movement. Maybe John should start wearing a mask, too, to make his staring less obvious. "I need a drink."

"You co-own a bar," John says, and then asks, carefully, "is the change permanent?"

"God, no." Kyle pushes his bangs out of his face and sighs, sagging further in his unnecessarily elaborate seat. "Can you imagine? I think Hal would go berserk."

"What does Hal have to do with-" John starts, and then stops. "You let him fuck you."

Kyle stares at him. He lifts his mask to make his staring more apparent, his big eyes looking softer, more rounded, narrowing in bewilderment. "Seriously?" he asks. "How the hell did you-" he makes a sharp, exasperated gesture with his hand. "It was freaky enough when Guy did it."

"Guy, too?" John lets a little judgement slip into his voice. Just a little.

"Don't you start with me." Kyle straightens up, dropping his mask back on his face like a suit of armor. "First, I need a drink."

"You co-own a bar," John points out, again, patiently.

Kyle makes a disgruntled noise. "Buy me a drink, John. Can't you take a hint?"

"You're not actually a girl, you know," John says, even as he's getting up from his seat and following Kyle out of his office (living quarters), valiantly keeping his eyes above Kyle's expanded backside, which was already plenty big to begin with.

"So what?" Kyle peeks over his shoulder. "Do you only show chivalry to girls now?"

John flies closer to him, putting a hand on his lower back. Kyle's skin is so warm, it's like he's not wearing anything at all. "What you need isn't chivalry," John says, leaning close like he's whispering a secret.

Kyle actually stutters in his flight, nearly making John smack into him. He rights himself in time, looking down at Kyle's pink-tinged ears as Kyle clears his throat. John's hand looks bigger now on Kyle than it did before. The... transformation... really did wonders on his ass. "Tell you what," Kyle says, interrupting John before he can do something inadvisable, "if you're better to me than Guy or Hal, I'll let you be as chivalrous as you want before this," he gestures at himself, "wears off."

John hums consideringly. "That's hardly a challenge."

"Right," Kyle says. "Then you should have no problem." He pulls back and looks at John through the blank white eyes of his mask. "Too bad you don't have a bed."

And he winks. John doesn't know how he knows Kyle is winking behind his mask, but he knows. He winks and then reaches down to take John's hand, thoughtlessly linking their fingers together, and continues towards Warriors with a cheeky swagger in his flight path.

Fine. John will play along, for now. Kyle is obviously enjoying the attention his temporary transformation is begetting him, and John might handle himself with more decorum compared to some others but at the end of the day he's still a man. With the ass like the one Kyle is sporting now, he can probably talk John into anything. He can ask John to paint his skin red and pretend to be Sinestro and John will go along with it and he will only feel a little ashamed of himself until he-

(Focus)

Forget about Hal. John feels like he might go insane.

"How long did you say this would last, again?" he asks Kyle.

"Dunno," Kyle replies. "Could be a week. Could be two."

A week. A fucking week. Or maybe two.

Maybe he should get a bed.