Kyle gave a satisfied sigh and looked around the bar. “Well, I think the party went well.”
Hal nodded in agreement. Kyle and Guy had decided to introduce St. Patrick’s Day to Oa. “You can’t own a bar and not celebrate St. Pat’s!” Guy had declared. The bar had been transformed into a sea of green: green streamers decorated with shamrocks were hung around the walls, a line of green construct leprechauns had danced jigs on the bar, and there was a green light on every table that gave the entire room a green glow. And that was besides the many Lanterns who wore their green uniforms to the party.
Guy had spent the evening behind the bar, a green bowler hat perched on his red hair, doling out bottles of Guinness and bowls of Irish stew. Kyle, wearing a green sweatshirt with Kiss Me, I’m Irish printed in large white letters, had been kept busy explaining what St. Patrick’s Day was, and the significance of leprechauns and shamrocks and being Irish.
Now the party was over and Hal finally had Kyle to himself. They sat together in a booth, the table littered with empty bowls and bottles.
“St. Patrick’s Day was always a big deal when I was growing up,” Kyle said, rattling around the nitrogen cartridge in an empty Guinness bottle. “Mom belonged to an Irish-American club and they always threw a big party every year.” He snorted. “The only thing missing at ours was a céilí band, a drunk priest, and someone reciting something in Irish.”
Hal raised his eyebrows. “Do you speak Irish?”
“A little.” Kyle shrugged. “Mom made me learn it.” He rolled his eyes. “Along with four years of Irish dancing lessons.”
“You can dance?” Hal grinned. That he wanted to see.
Kyle shook his head and laughed. “Not anymore. I haven’t done it since I was ten.”
Hal didn’t think Kyle would forget how to dance that easily, but he’d work on that later. “So what can you say in Irish?”
“Happy St. Patrick’s Day” Kyle said, but the words didn’t match what his mouth was doing.
“Oh, wait.” Hal pulled off his ring and set it on the table. “The ring was translating you.”
“Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit. Happy St. Patrick’s Day.” Then Kyle pointed to the words on his shirt. “Tabhair póg dom, is Éireannach mé.”
“Okay,” Hal said, smiling. He’d been following those instructions ever since he got here. He gave Kyle a quick kiss.
“Cronaim thú,” Kyle said, kissing him back. “I missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” They spent too damn much time apart.
“Tá grá agam duit. I love you.” Kyle put his hand on Hal’s chest. “Tá mo chroí istigh ionat. My heart is within you.” Kyle took Hal’s hand and pressed it over his heart. “A Ghrá mo Chroi. My heart’s beloved.” Kyle touched Hal’s cheek. “Is liomsa mo mhuirnín, agus is leis mé. My beloved is mine, and I am his.”
Hal’s heart skipped at the passion in Kyle’s words. “Mine,” he repeated softly. He got that little stab of fear, fear of the permanence that words like that hinted at, and he was surprised that the fear wasn’t so strong anymore. He smiled. “Now we’ve officially become mushy”.
“You don’t want romantic? Okay.” Kyle looked at Hal seductively. “Is dócha nach bhfuil seans ar bith ann. Which means something like ‘How’s my luck with you?’”
Hal raised his eyebrows. “Your mom taught you pick-up lines?”
Kyle laughed. “No. When I was a teenager, there were some kids in our church who were from Ireland. They taught me all the good words. You know … how to swear in Irish. And the pick-up lines.” He leaned in close to Hal’s ear. “Ba mhaith póg gach orlach gen thu a thabhairt,” he said softly. “I want to kiss every inch of you.”
“Mmm. I wouldn’t object to that.”
“Ba mhaith diúl do bod a thabhairt,” Kyle whispered. “I want to suck your cock.”
Hal grinned. “I definitely wouldn’t object to that.” His cock twitched in agreement.
Kyle pulled back to look into Hal’s eyes. His green eyes were dark and predatory. “Tá mé ag iarraidh craiceann a bhualadh leat,” he said in a low growl. “I want to fuck you.”
Before Hal could respond, Kyle grabbed him and kissed him hard, pushing his tongue into Hal’s mouth and sliding his hand down to his erection. A tingle went up Hal’s spine. Oh yeah, he was getting topped tonight…
“Hey! You lovebirds wanna get a room?” Guy shouted from across the bar.
They broke apart and Hal looked sheepishly at the table in the back of the room. “Sorry.” He and Kyle had been so wrapped up in each other, they’d completely forgotten they weren’t alone here. Guy, John, Kilowog and Vath were finishing off the last bottles of Guinness. Their friends were all looking at them with amused grins on their faces. Even Stupidcat, perched on the end of the bar, had stopped his grooming and turned his surly gaze on them.
“They’re like two horny teenagers, I swear,” Guy said, shaking his head.
Vath said something, but Hal didn’t understand it without his ring. The rest of the table burst out laughing, though.
Kyle huffed. “Fine,” he called out to their friends. “If you’re going to make cracks like that, we’re leaving. You can clean up the bar without us.” Kyle leaned over to whisper in Hal’s ear. “Let’s go home.” His tongue flicked over Hal’s earlobe. “I’ll give you some more lessons in the Irish tongue.”