Disclaimer: These characters belong to people who are not me. I just borrow them, bend them into awkward positions and leave them out in the sunlight to go yellow.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to finitejester37 and slidellra for their helpful and insightful betas. Written for the ds_flashfiction super powers challenge, this fic is dedicated to everyone out there who secretly knows that, however much they want to fly, or leap buildings in a single bound, when the powers got handed round they'd most probably end up like this---

Story Notes: Written May, 2008.

"This is going to be a problem," says Ray, clinging to Kowalski for dear life and most definitely not looking down. Straight across at the windowless brick wall, fine. Down, no.

"Yeah," says Kowalski. "Sorry about that."

Ray's cheek is mashed so close to Kowalski's he can feel the movement of his jaw as he speaks. It should be distracting. It isn't. Ray has other things on his mind.

"You levitate when you come. What is that?" Ray hears his voice buzz in his bones. It's high and a little squeaky, the kind of voice he always used to use when Fraser did something superhuman. Or super stupid. Sometimes both at once. Yeah, Fraser sure has superpowers. Not like Kowalski here; his thing is not so much a superpower as a side effect.

"What's that?" asks Kowalski sharply, and Ray feels a rush of air as Kowalski's grip tightens a little, pulling Ray's undershirt away from sweat-damp skin.

Ray really needs to remember there was a reason internal speech had was supposed to be internal.

"So," he says, avoiding the question. "We're in an alley. In public. A public alley. Ten feet higher in the air than anyone who is not Michael Jordan has any right to be with things hanging out that oughta be in and did I mention we were in public? I have to ask, you didn't think maybe you should bring up this little nugget of information sometime before we uh ... we ..." Ray doesn't usually do lost for words, but right now he's all out.

"Before we fucked?" Kowalski seems to have no such problem.

"For one definition of fucking, yes," Ray squeezes out. "In public."

"You didn't have any problem with public a minute ago," says Kowalski, and he's pulled his head back a little so his lips are whispering the words against Ray's ear. Now Ray's distracted. He swallows.

"No," he says, and, "Well, that was when there was a huge metal dumpster and some very shady shadows between us and the general population of the city of Chicago." His hands twitch, wanting to punctuate the point, but he's damned if he's letting go. He's very fond of his ankles and he'd like not to break them if at all possible.

"And now there's, you know, being up in the air in the dark. Relax, Vecchio, it'll all be over soon." Kowalski loosens one half of the iron grip he's got on Ray's ribcage and reaches down to pat his ass.

"Kowalski!" Ray threatens and shivers a little as Kowalski's laugh brushes his ear. Kowalski's right about one thing, it's definitely dark. It's a clear, bright day back out there in the world, but you wouldn't know it here from the way the buildings loom above them, cutting out almost all the light.

"How long does this last?" he asks, because 'soon' doesn't have the kind of accuracy he's looking for.

Ray feels his chin lift as Kowalski shrugs. At the same time Kowalski twists his face away and his stubble scrapes Ray's skin. Ray's intrigued to find he kind of likes it.

"Depends," says Kowalski, obviously not comfortable with talking about it.

This fact, of course, makes Ray more determined to find out. The more dirt he has on Kowalski's lameass superpower the better to use it later. Besides, it takes his mind off the whole thing where he's dangling into nothingness. "On what?"

Kowalski is silent for a long moment. His fingers twitch against Ray's back. "On how, um, how seismic the, um, the thing is."

"Seismic? Seismic? What are you? Krakatoa?"

Kowalski lets go again, this time to thwap Ray's head. "That's earthquakes, asshole. And yeah, I know. Whatever. The longest is seven, eight minutes, maybe."

"Huh," says Ray, thoughtful. "Must make it difficult to fake. I mean, how do you explain that some guy some gal some person-" Ray was glad Kowalski couldn't see him blushing, "-that they only gave you a thirty second literal high this time around?"

"It hasn't come up much. I'm easily pleased. And anyway, it doesn't happen every time."

"It doesn't happen every time?" Ray crows. "See that's even lamer than before. Why not?"

Kowalski shrugs again and Ray gets the impression that he's keeping something back. There's always later. Another thought occurs and he risks relaxing his death grip on Kowalski long enough to punch him in the back. It's a bad angle and there's no force in it but it makes Ray feel better.

"Kowalski, why the hell am I here? You shoulda just let go."

"I forgot." Kowalski sounds embarrassed and Ray can't parse it. He decides to let it pass.

"Can we move?" he asks. "Kinda getting bored with the whole dangly feet thing. They're starting to throb; I swear every last drop of blood I got is headed down there."

Kowalski grinds against him suggestively (and how he manages to do that in mid-air Ray puts down to another superpower) and says, "You're right about that."

Ray can't even be bothered to get offended. They're suspended in mid-air. There's broken glass in the alley below (There's always broken glass. City Council still thinks recycling means using your takeout as dinner and breakfast) and he's relying on a flaky cop with the attention span of a short bus goldfish to remember that he's necessary to Ray's continued well-being. Of course Little Ray is taking a rest.

"Can we move?" he asks again.

"Nah. We're stuck in this position. Wherever I am when I, you know, do the thing, the coming thing, that's how I end up. Vertical, horizontal, upside down. Whatever. You get used to it." He wiggles a leg as if to prove a point.

"Wow," says Ray, drawing the word out. "That could be real awkward."

"Yeah," says Kowalski, managing to sound rueful and proud at the same time. Ray finds this endearing and then hates himself for it.

They hang for another ten seconds or so and then Kowalski says, "Don't let go."

"Why?" Ray wants to know but his reflexes are one step ahead and he's clinging tight as the constant pressure of Kowalski's arms around him disappears. "You let go!" yells Ray, feeling his heart beat shallow and frantic as if it can keep him in the air with its frenzied motion. "Quit letting go!" But then he feels Kowalski's sure hands between the two of them, efficiently tucking Ray back into his pants and fastening them up and then, from the continued movements in the general groin area, seemingly doing the same to himself.

"Tidy up time," says Kowalski, both hands once again firmly gripping Ray's suit.

Ray does not want to think about creases. "You think Lois Lane goes through this shit?"

"You think Superman gets in trouble for messing up Lois' silk blouse?" asks Kowalski with a hint of apology.

Ray groans.

"Look," says Kowalski, "think of it this way," and kisses him.

Kowalski kisses him.

And before, on the ground, it had been all fast and hot and dirty and now, now, fuck, now, and Ray hadn't had a chance to think, to do anything but react when Kowalski shoved Ray's back against the wall and his hand down Ray's pants. Now, though, is different. Kowalski's lips are full and soft against his as he lazily explores Ray's mouth with his tongue like they have all the time in the world, like the alley has melted away and left just the two of them, suspended in space, slowly, slowly spinning.

Kowalski's hand comes up to cup Ray's head, thumb rubbing over and over the short-clipped hair. Ray clings tighter. He feels his heart slow to a steady, strong throb, blood fizzling and crackling his body into life.

This? This is more than he'd hoped. More than he'd even known he wanted.

Ray doesn't even notice when he touches down.

Kowalski pulls away. "Home, sweet home," he says, dancing a little jig.

Ray, puzzled, looks down. There's solid ground beneath his feet. He looks back up at Kowalski. So why does he still feel there's nothing under him but air?

"So, this one lasted a while, huh?" he says, smirking. Maybe he could upgrade his hand-job abilities to superpower.

Kowalski rolls his eyes and kisses him again. It's a little nastier this time and Little Ray starts clamoring to get in on the action. Kowalski — not for nothing is he a detective — notices and cups Ray's hard-on with his hand.

"Nu-uh," says Ray, breaking the kiss and moving Kowalski's hand away. "Next time we're doing this in a bed. Soft landing."

"Next time?" Kowalski's grin splits his face and Ray figures it's gone straight to his Top Five Favorite Things of All Time. Top Three even, maybe.

"Next time," agrees Ray.

"Well, okay, then." And Kowalski leads the way out of the alley, pulling Ray along.

As they step out onto the street, Kowalski frees his hand, running it through his hair before unhooking his sunglasses from his T, squinting against the light. Ray shivers in the sudden sun despite its warmth and resists the urge to straighten his tie just to do something with his empty hands. Then Kowalski strides away down the street without looking back. Ray hesitates and after a few seconds Kowalski turns round, walking backwards and beckoning.

"Times-a-wasting. Pitter patter, Vecchio." He stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk but keeps right on walking. Ray laughs. The sun lights Kowalski from behind, edging his hair with gold and Ray laughs more because, god. Lame and beautiful — it's a dream come true.

"I'm pittering," he yells, breaking into a gentle jog. "And pattering."

Ray's right. Bed's better. And once he's had some practice he'll be able to drop and roll, clean up and get the coffee on before Kowalski's even come down. Or steal the entire duvet. It's a win-win situation as far as Ray's concerned.

This time though, they come down together, Ray on top of Kowalski, face buried against his neck while Kowalski strokes his back with long, sure sweeps of his hand. Now they're lying side by side and Ray is trying not to freak out about the fact that they're holding hands. Last time he looked (which was about thirty seconds ago) neither he nor Kowalski were Romeo or Juliet, but then he's long learned not to rule anything out.

He checks again.

Nope, guy bits and wrinkles still intact. He thinks about Kowalski and the things he wants to do to Kowalski or have Kowalski do to him. His brow smoothes with pleasure then creases with concern.

"I think you're gonna need to develop your upper body strength," he says.

"Huh?"

"You know, because there may come a time when we're up there and you're in a delicate position so to speak and I wouldn't want to, ah, break any of your vital parts if you couldn't manage my bodyweight." Ray waves his free hand vaguely in a pattern that may or may not have been supposed to represent a particularly complex page of the Gay Kama Sutra. Hey, Kowalski kept it in the bathroom, Ray wasn't supposed to look?

Kowalski laughs. "Vecchio, man, you're loop-de-loop. Gonna have to say no to more gym time — cuts into the time when I could be fucking you. How 'bout you lose some weight instead?"

"You saying I'm fat?" Ray replies with no real venom, squeezing Kowalski's fingers, just a little.

"Nah, you'll do for me," says Kowalski, adding in a mutter, "but I'm a chubby chaser."

"Thin ice," says Ray and punches Kowalski in the side with his own hand.

They're quiet for a while and Ray thinks Kowalski's dropped off to sleep when he hears, "So, do you got any superpowers you're not telling me about?"

Ray cringes. He does not want to talk about it. "What, to compare with Slutty the Orgasm Boy?"

"Har har. No, really. I showed you mine..."

"By mistake."

The thumb that has been rubbing back and forth across Ray's hand stills. Kowalski's whole body stops moving and that's weird enough for Ray to turn his head and look at Kowalski. He looks confused and there's something else in the mix Ray can't pick out. A possibility tickles at the back of Ray's brain but he can't quite get to it. He knows how to fix Kowalski's expression, though.

"Okay. You really wanna know?"

"Yup."

Ray sighs so loudly they could probably hear it the other side of the lake. "I have tactile telekinesis."

Ray's right about fixing the expression. An excited Kowalski twists onto his side, grinning into Ray's face. He says, "What, like Superboy?"

Ray feels so ashamed. He puts his hand over his eyes. This brings a whole new dimension to lame, he thinks. This is Lame Cubed — The Return. "Kinda," he manages to say, "But I'm limited to small household objects."

Kowalski laughs. "What?"

Ray rubs the heel of his hand across his forehead before meeting Kowalski's eyes and taking it like a man. He grins ruefully. "You know, nothing bigger than a table lamp. Personally, I prefer to just pick things up. Tactile telekinesis doesn't really have much relevance to making coffee and there's always this residual headache that's a pain in the ass to shift."

Kowalski bounces a little. "Move something for me."

"Didn't I just rock your world?" says Ray with his cheesiest smile.

Kowalski merely stares at him. "I can kill you. I have a licensed firearm."

"Okay, okay," gripes Ray, sitting up and casting about for something useful. He reaches a hand out over Kowalski's bedside table and touches Kowalski's glasses with outstretched fingers. Feeling his head already beginning to tingle, Ray raises his hand and the glasses move with it, appearing stuck together. He holds them above the table for a count of ten and then lowers them down again. Ray turns back to Kowalski with a sigh, rubbing over his left eyebrow where the headache is settling in and making itself at home. Probably drinking the last of the coffee.

"See that's cool," says Kowalski.

"Really?" asks Ray, brightening.

"No," Kowalski snorts, "it's totally lame. Ooooh, Velcro Fingers."

For the briefest of seconds Ray considers whether he should be offended by this and then he laughs. Just a chuckle at first, but then the sheer unlikeliness of both of them having superpowers that barely deserve the title of super hits him and it grows into a real belly laugh. Kowalski looks at him like he's some kind of lunatic and then laughs too. A lot.

"Oh, man," Ray says when they've recovered. "Can you imagine the interview with the Justice League? 'So, Mr. Kowalski, what's your special power?' 'Um, I can float when I get my happy on.' 'Next!'"

"'And Mr. Vecchio, how about you? Flight? Superstrength? Invisibility? X-ray vision? No. You can what? Lift a coffee mug using only the power of your hand? Next!'"

"God, we are so lame."

"We really are."

Ray rolls on top of Kowalski, who seems more than happy to see him there. "You wanna try the flo- Oh!" The tickle of possibility from before is back but now it's a full-fledged whammy of a thought. He sits up, straddling Kowalski's thighs.

"When we did it in the alley, you weren't expecting the levitating thing to happen, were you? That's why you didn't say anything. It really was a mistake."

Kowalski struggles to sit up, supporting himself on his elbows. He screws up his eyes and Ray can tell he's making his mind up about something.

"Not a mistake, a surprise." Kowalski says.

"Aha!" says Ray, light not exactly dawning, but definitely dissolving some of the fog, "there is a pattern, isn't there? When it happens and when it doesn't. Tell me." He slides back along Kowalski's legs, pushing them apart and sitting between them, hand out to pull Kowalski up with him.

"Yeah, there's a pattern." He meets Ray's eyes and Ray realizes two things. First, that he's holding his breath, and second, that Kowalski is about to do something brave.

"The thing is that the thing, the floating thing, that only happens when I'm really into someone. Like, really. That's why it's never been a problem. Stella, she thought it was cool. And ... I thought you and me it was just sex, you know, adrenaline rush, blood-pumping, need-to-get-off-now sex but it wasn't — it isn't — and that's why I didn't warn you and that's why I didn't let go. Kinda thrown for a loop there."

"Oh," says Ray, letting out his breath, thrown for a loop himself.

Kowalski just keeps looking at him, rubbing his neck and peeping up through long eyelashes and hell, what's a guy supposed to do?

"I get it," he says. And, "I'm there, too, I promise." He holds Kowalski's gaze long enough to know the message gets through. And then he bends down and uses his lameass superpower to lift Kowalski's dick right off his belly and into Ray's mouth. Maybe