Title: One with the Universe
Fandom: The Authority
Pairing: The Midnighter/Apollo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 804
Summary/Description: Apollo picks up another stupid Zen exercise. The Midnighter has other ideas.
Warning/Spoilers: No spoilers. Language and violence.
A/N: 31 days, May 9th: the friend and the foe. This was originally going to be about something else entirely (different fandom and all) but then I ran out of time. I'll finish it one day!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Authority.

It's laughably pathetic, how the goon pulls out his automatic, big grin plastered across his face, eyebrow raised in a cocky arch. He thinks he's won this fight; he and his three buddies. It's hilarious.

The Midnighter cuts a predatory smile into his face as he lazily sidesteps the first bullet, and ducks to avoid the second. Eight seconds have passed; and there were about thirty-seven different ways that he could have ended the battle in that period of time. But hey, there's no rush. He's got the time. Apollo hasn't reappeared from his sun run yet, Jenny's spending the day with Angie and Jack, and Los Angeles could only thank him for ridding it of a bit of the trash that litters its streets like ants at a sugar infested picnic.

After the fifth bullet whizzes past his head, the thug clues in to the fact that he might not be dealing with some random bozo in a costume. Pity; Midnighter had been enjoying the sinking look creeping into his eyes as he tried and failed to hit him each time. But it's just as well; it's about time he started actively participating in this fight.

Trigger-happy's hand wavers, but then steadies itself as he levels the gun at Midnighter once again. Midnighter barks out a short laugh, swiftly blurring into close-range, turning the gun around in the ruffian's hand, and jamming it into his left eye. Blood spurts, and leaves a crimson line across Midnighter's cheek.

"Yeah, trying to shoot me again. I definitely wouldn't have seen that one coming." He jams the gun into his other eye, and leaves him screaming, choking on his own blood.

One of the thug's buddies comes rushing in with a yell, a rifle raised high and poised to swing down. It'd be most efficient to dodge and use his momentum against him, but Midnighter is a bastard. It's a lot more fun to grapple the gun away, kick in his left knee, and then shoot the imbecile in the groin with his own weapon. He's alive for just long enough to feel stupid before his brains decorate the sidewalk.

The remaining two guys do the smartest thing they can do at this point: try to run. Useless, but still, a lot smarter than trying to engage him. The Midnighter has no sympathy and no patience for cowards, however; not the kind of cowards who laugh while raping teenagers and robbing seniors. If they aren't going to make this entertaining, then they're of no use to him. He takes off both their heads with one clean swipe of his staff. It's interesting, to see their bodies run for a couple more steps before collapsing.

Heh. Not even a good workout. But at least he got the chance to stretch his limbs, Midnighter considers as he shakes the blood off of his weapons and puts them away.

As if on cue, a minute later, something white and beautiful comes flying out of the sun, and hovers a few feet above the scene. Apollo takes in the carnage with a half-exasperated, half-amused eye. Midnighter grins at him like a shark.

"Sorry. Should I have saved some for you?"

"And deprive you of the pleasure?" Apollo grimaces a bit at the copious amount of blood on his husband's uniform, but holds a hand out to Midnighter anyway. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Midnighter takes it, eyes lit with fire. When your husband is the Sun God, the possibilities are endless, and he looks forward to the hours ahead of them. One of the few things that comes close to the rush he gets while in combat is imagining the many ways he can make love to his husband when it is over. The only thing that trumps them both is actually doing it.

"I think I might take up yoga," Apollo mentions on the flight out of L.A.. It would have been infinitely easier to call up a door, but the evening is still young, and they haven't spent time together in a while. The Midnighter has his arms locked around the Sun God's neck, feeling warm against his back. Apollo's hair is blowing into his face, but he doesn't mind.

At the comment, Midnighter rolls his eyes, though he knows his husband can't see it.

"More stupid Zen exercises? To become 'one with the universe'?"

Apollo's voice is ripe with amusement over the rush of the wind.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Midnighter snorts.

"Hate to be the one to break it to you, sweetie, but the universe stinks. Not great bonding fodder. At all. Now me... I can think of several better things to become one with."

A chuckle is the only answer, but he feels Apollo speed up a bit, and smiles smugly.