Justice League Porn Story: Gingers Not Allowed Chapter 1

Gingers Not Allowed

Summary: Flash has two super abilities: super speed and the ability to annoy any living thing in the universe. Flash employs the latter on the Question.
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: copywrite, DC
Notes: The purpose of this story got lost in a haze of character interaction, so take from it what you will. Maybe it’s just a slice of life, maybe I’m just having fun and practicing the character’s personalities. I don’t know. Maybe you do. Flash and Q, but somehow Green Arrow managed to sneak in at the end.
Anyway, for those of you not In The Know (which might be a good portion of you), Q grew up in a rather abusive Catholic orphanage, and I can easily see him getting picked on a lot as a child for being a redhead.
Now back to that paper I should be writing…

Wally West didn’t often get assigned monitor duty, for reasons obvious to any who had met him for longer then three minutes or shorter, depending on Wally’s mood at the time. And for the instances that his name did get called, Wally could usually charm, bribe, or simply weasel his way out of it. Unfortunately for him, that didn’t always work, and this was one of the rare occasions.

Wally spun lazily about in his chair, pulling his knees up to his chest and feet on the edge of his seat to help increase the speed of his rotations. High tech equipment and a rather impressive view of the stars beyond flashed across his eyes, dizzying for some but a simple walk in the park for the Fastest Man Alive. Wally stretched out his legs, letting the soles of his boots knock against the edge of the console before his chair, slowing himself down until he came to gradual halt facing his ‘monitor buddy’. Wally’s lips twisted into a slight grimace, but he quickly schooled his expression back to the default ‘boredom’ setting it had been on for the past thirty minutes.

Flash didn’t know the Question well, except for the usual rumors floating about the Watchtower gossip circles. He knew Green Arrow seemed to like the guy well enough, which gave a fairly sizable check mark on the positive side of the mental scorecard in Wally’s head. But the whole ‘predicting Flash’s death and making a crazy bid to kill Luthor to keep the planet from armageddon’ thing had left the scorecard looking like something a two-year-old had scribbled on and then set on fire, because, yeah, that was really fucked up.

Flash didn’t know much about the Question, but since starting their mutual shift together Wally now knew that Question liked to hum bubblegum pop songs, continuously, and at a barely audible range that could drive a person insane because they were never quite sure if they were hearing it or not. Wally wasn’t use to being on the other side of annoyance.

Flash now also knew that Question was apparently quite experienced and proficient at monitor duty, easily doing the work of two (Wally wasn’t even attempting to look like he was doing something productive) as he slouched deeply into his chair. Question had never been on the active duty roster, so Wally could only guess that he ended up taking more then his fair share of monitoring shifts.

And Flash knew at least one other thing Question was supposedly actually a redhead. It was this particular bit of gossip that was causing Wally’s curiosity to go into overdrive. Was the slightly messy thatch of black hair peeking out from underneath the fedora actually a wig? Just how did he go about getting that mask on and off?

Wally decided it was about time that he put his master plan into action. The master plan he had just made up five minutes ago.

You know…

The first words spoken between them in twenty minutes, and they were said with an overly deliberate casualness that tended to put people on edge. Question stopped humming abruptly, turning to face Flash with his head only.

…when I found out your were a redhead, I was going to offer you a membership into the Redheaded Super Leaguers Club, but…

Wally paused, taking note that Question didn’t ask why such a thing as the Redheaded Super Leaguers Club even existed. Any true redhead knew that they needed to band together against the repression of all those jealous non-redheads.

…It turns out that you’re actually just a ginger, so you don’t really count.

Question stilled, the sort of unnatural stillness that meant someone was struggling very hard not to react. Wally could have even sworn he had quit breathing.

Wally had called him a ginger, and any true redhead knew just how serious an accusation that was.

Not a ginger. Question’s voice was strangled, as if even his vocal cords had frozen with repressed emotion.

Flash raised a lofty eyebrow, mostly unnoticeable except for the faint crinkling of his mask, and crossed his arms across his chest. That’s not what Stargirl said.

The console in front of Question began beeping softly. Question reached out blindly, unwilling or unable to break his blank stare with Flash, and tapped a button, silencing the computer’s cry for attention. Not a ginger.

Stargirl says you got freckles and everything.

Not a ginger.

Flash smirked triumphantly. Prove it.

Question didn’t move for long, tense seconds, then suddenly turned his chair to face Flash square on. His hand plunged into a trenchcoat pocket and pulled out a small aerosol can, which he began spraying directly into his featureless face.

Flash watched on, fascinated, as Question’s deeply black hair slowly lightened to an unmistakable bright shade of orange. The can was stashed back into his coat pocket, his fedora was knocked off into his lap, and Question proceeded to pull the skin off his face.

Flash blanched instinctively, before his mind caught up and realized what was being revealed underneath wasn’t muscle and bone, but a whole other face, this one with features and all.

Question’s maskless face stared at Flash with grim determination from just a few feet away. It was a narrow face, with high cheekbones and hollow cheeks, with the unmistakable look of someone who didn’t get quite enough sleep and forgot more meals then was perhaps healthy. A spattering of bruises decorated that face, ranging from faintly blue to sickly greenish yellow, and Wally let his eyes skip over the sudden reminder that the whole Cadmus ‘incident’ had happened barely two weeks ago. Instead he focused on two specific features the scattered line of freckles that marched across the bridge of a slightly crooked nose and the very blue eyes.

Sorry dude… Flash shook his head, almost sadly. Stargirl’s right. You are a ginger.

The glare he could previously only feel, Wally could now see. It was strangely effective, considering the rest of the newly naked face seemed emotionless. You’re a redhead as well, Wally West. Why am I a ginger and you are not?

Me? Flash sputtered, hooking a thumb to his chest for emphasis. A ginger? I don’t think so, pal. Wally reached up swiftly, pushing back the cowl of his uniform and freeing the flattened and slightly sweaty hair underneath. The cowl scrunched about his neck, dangling slightly down his back. See, my hair’s a nice, acceptable shade of red. And my eyes are green, like a proper redhead should have.

Those gingerfying blue eyes flickered up to scrutinize Wally’s red hair. It was noticeably a darker shade then Question’s own eye catching orange hue, but not by much. Question ‘huhm’ deep in his throat, cheek twitching in annoyance. The console beeped again, and Question slammed a hand down on it after only two beeps.

Now, Shayera’s a good example of a proper redhead. Hank’s not bad either. Ralph almost didn’t make it in the Redheaded Super Leaguers Club ’cause his hair is worse then even yours, and he has freckles. But at least his eyes have the decency to be brown if they can’t be green.

As Wally continued to extol the various virtues of his fellow Redheaded Super Leaguers Club members, Question’s fingers itched for the packet of toothpicks in his left suit pocket, wondering if he could somehow stab Flash’s eyes out with them while he was distracted with ranting. Luckily for both parties potentially involved, Question’s homicidal thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the elevator, baring one Oliver Queen aka Green Arrow.

Green Arrow strode forward, authoritative and faintly irritated voice cutting over the tapering end of Flash’s speech. Question! Why’d you hang- Vic? Oliver’s momentum came to a halt, as he stared at a face that should have been faceless.

Ollie! Question shot to his feet, looking far more agitated then Oliver could remember ever seeing him, with or without the mask. Not a ginger. Tell him!

…What? Oliver looked quizzically at Flash, askance.

Wally shrugged. Question’s in denial. I called him a ginger, which he so obviously is, and now he’s all upset ’cause I won’t let him into the Redheaded Super Leaguers Club.

Oliver glanced from Question, looking distinctly redheaded and lightly freckled, to the equally redheaded Wally West. Uh, Wally? Isn’t it a bit hypocritical of you to call Vic a ginger? I mean, how would you feel if someone called you a ginger?

Scoffing, Flash buffing his chest out with hauteur. No one would ever mistake me for a ginger.

Question hunched his shoulders a bit, blue eyes gaining a far away look that Oliver had never seen before, but could easily recognize. Question was shifting through the vast mental catalog in his head. Age eight. Bridgeport Elementary School. Suspended two days for punching other child. Reportedly child had called you ‘ginger’.

How did you…? Wally recoiled, eyes wide. Dude, that’s extra creepy.

Oliver grinned, faintly. You get use to it.

I don’t know if I want to get use to creepy stalker faceless men. That sounds unhealthy. And anyway, I was just a kid! I outgrew anything that could be mistaken for gingerism.

Age twelve. Bondurant Middle School. Week of detention for fighting with fellow student. Teacher written report states student started the altercation by tugging on your hair and taunting you with calls of ‘ginger’.

Oliver was struggling not to laugh. Wally felt his mouth drop open.

Age fifteen. Central City High School. Three days suspension for stealing student property. Witnesses report seeing the boy accuse you of being a ‘ginger’ one day prior.

We were in the locker room and I took his underwear.

Age seventeen. Central-

Alright, alright, I get it! Wally slouched into his chair, pouting. You’re not a ginger, I’m not a ginger, no one on this space station is a ginger! I still don’t know if you can be in the club. Ralph’s already filling the detective quota. Hank pretty much has anger management issues covered. You wouldn’t happen to have anger management issues, would ya, Question?

Question stared at Wally, expression bland and almost as blank as his mask would have been.

No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Shayera’s got the female angle. And I, of course, bring the handsome. I suppose you could fill our crazy quota…

Shaking his head, Oliver ignored Wally with the ease born from practice, and rounded on Question. Vic! You hung up on me. Twice.

Yes. Question said simply, without guilt or embarrassment. Defending my honor, Ollie.

Yeah, I heard. Didn’t think you would fall for name calling, though.

Ah. Question paused, eyes lowering to the ground, hands buried deep inside coat pockets fisting around the fabric within. …Childhood cruelties… sometimes have nasty habit of lingering far longer then adults would like.

…Oh.

The ruffle of clothes caused by the abrupt displacement of air, a sudden arm thrown about Question’s instantly tense shoulders, signified the inclusion of Flash into their small huddle. He grinned at the two other men, cheerfulness overlaying a sense of chagrin. Hey, Q-man, sorry ’bout the whole ‘ginger’ thing. I didn’t know I was touching on a sore subject. But, you know, if you want, you can still join the club. I wouldn’t mind. You could be, like, our special op into the world of non-redheads, ’cause you spend most of your time pretending to be one anyway. A non-redhead, that is. Not pretending to be a redhead. Cause you clearly are. One. A redhead and not a ginger. Wally frowned for the quickest of seconds, then grinned once more.

Silence.

But, I mean, if you don’t want to be our special op that’s okay too. You could just-

Wally, I think maybe you should-

And, and, you don’t have to join if you don’t want to. I just thought that maybe you might like to-

Wally-

And I’m sorry if I offended you somehow but you really are kinda weird and creepy and how was I suppose to know-

Wally-! Thank you.

And it’s not like… I… what?

Question didn’t raise his eyes, didn’t release the tension in his muscles, but his voice was calm and soft. I would very much like to be the special operative into the oppressive tyrannical world of non-redheads for the Redheaded Super Leaguers Club.

Flash gaped. You… would? Well, that’s just- great! He shot a happy smile towards Oliver, giving Question’s shoulder a pleased, celebratory shake.

Please remove arm before I break fingers.

Instantly, ten feet separated Wally from the suited redhead, sheepish and trying to nonchalantly poke the buttons on the nearest computer station.

Oliver chuckled, clearly amused. Now free of the clinging grip of the red speedster, Question began the process of reapplying his ‘no-face’. Oliver watched him with only mild interest. Me and Dinah are going to be heading down to Star City tonight, so I’m going to have to call off our dinner plans. That’s what I wanted to tell when you hung up on me, twice. He hesitated for a moment, then plunged onward. You okay?

The other man’s head, now thoroughly de-faced and dark haired once again, titled slightly to the side, quizzically.

Yeah, stupid question.

No stupid questions, Ollie.

I’m not so sure about that. But, take it easy, alright? I saw you wince when Wally put his arm on your shoulder, and I know those burns aren’t anywhere near healed yet.

Question ‘huhm’ed. Whether the huhm meant ‘yes, Oliver, my dearest friend, I’ll be sure not to stress myself too much’ or ‘I wish you would shut up about this and I’m just barely resisting the urge to punch you in the face’, Oliver couldn’t tell, but he took whatever response he could get.

Question returned to his abandoned station without saying goodbye, but Oliver was use to his friend’s lack of social manners. As his elevator descended to the ground floor below, the green-clad archer listened in on the last snippets of conversation before the monitoring command center rose out of audio range.

…proceeds from Lightspeed energy bars being used to fund drug cartel in South America.

What? No it isn’t.

A beat.

It isn’t, is it?

Oh Wally, you don’t stand a chance.

P.S. Tidbits of info, just in case. Lightspeed is the energy bar that Wally endorsed and is occasionally seen eating. I don’t know where Wally went to school; I just made that up. Shayera is, of course, Hawkgirl. Hank Hall is Hawk. And Ralph Dibny is the Elongated Man. Sorry if I missed any other redheads in the Justice League. There’s a lot of characters that don’t get much screen time.