Love for Sale

by poisonivory

Summary:

Roy's between jobs and stuck in a not-so-great living situation when he runs into his best friend's little brother turned murderous vigilante, the Red Hood. Roy knows that Jason's dangerous, but he can't deny the attraction between them - and when Jason offers him a luxury apartment in exchange for continued hookups, who is Roy to turn it down? All he has to do is keep it strictly business, no feelings allowed. He can do that, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

Notes:

This is set pre-52, post-Under the Red Hood and Roy leaving the Outsiders, but before Roy joins the Justice League and, uh, I guess we'll just say Final Crisis and Battle for the Cowl didn't happen in this universe. Specific content warnings for violence to come in later chapters, but this is a Jason who definitely kills people a whole lot, so no worries if that's not your cup of tea and you want to dip.

The title is inspired by the Cole Porter song by the same name. Thanks to mizzmarvel for the beta!

CW: There is homophobic language and violence in this chapter (from the bad guys).

Chapter 1

Roy hunkered down into a deeper squat from his perch on the fire escape, eyes trained on the bodega across the street, his bow in his hand.

This was stupid. Of course, with the life he’d led, it didn’t rank as even in the top ten stupidest things he’d done, but it was still stupid. This was Gotham. You couldn’t go three blocks without tripping over a vigilante. Roy didn’t need to be out here.

But he’d stopped in that bodega on his way home earlier to pick up a couple of odds and ends and immediately clocked the two teenagers lurking very unsubtly in the corner of the store and staring at the cashier. Roy had drifted over to the Hostess display a few feet away from them and pretending to be agonizing over his choice of fruit pie while he listened to their murmured conversation.

“You got it?” one of them murmured.

“Yeah,” the other one said, nodding his head towards the cashier. “Old dude’s gonna shit his pants when we come back here with a gun.”

The first kid elbowed him. “Man, shut the fuck up!” he said, looking at Roy, who of course had heard absolutely nothing while he changed his mind and grabbed a pack of Ding Dongs instead.

He should have called Dick. Or Oracle. Hell, he was perfectly capable of calling Batman. There were plenty of people in this city who could handle a little corner store burglary.

But instead he’d gone home, asked the babysitter if she could stay a couple more hours at a doubled rate, and grabbed his gear. And now he was on this fire escape, microflexing every few seconds so that his blood didn’t pool in his feet and his hands didn’t go numb from the cold. Trust Gotham to have winters that were somehow bitterly cold and damp, yet never managed to snow and make things look pretty for at least an hour or two.

God, he didn’t want to be in Gotham. But after the Outsiders had imploded and he’d lost his steady paycheck, it had made more sense to cross the river from New York to Jersey, where the cost of living—and raising a child—was lower. He had some irons in the fire back in DC, but one of the many problems with working for the Feds was how long it took for anything to get approved, even re-hiring a former contractor. Which left him living in this freezing armpit of a city and trying not to burn through his savings too fast, and that meant a shitty apartment where he slept on a pull-out couch so Lian could have the single bedroom, in a neighborhood where idiot kids planned to knock off bodegas out loud, in the bodega itself.

Ollie would have helped, money-wise. Roy knew Ollie would have helped. But Ollie had seemed so proud of Roy ever since he came back from the dead, of how he was doing as a leader and a hero and a father. Roy didn’t want to have to go to him with his hand out, especially when it was just a temporary setback. A few months and he’d be settled in DC.

But maybe that had something to do with why he was out here on a cold rainy night, instead of checking to make sure that his daughter was asleep and then heading to bed himself. He couldn’t do much right now, but he could at least stop these kids from fucking up a bunch of lives, including their own.

Three customers went in. Four minutes later, one customer came out.

Less than a minute after that, Roy saw the cashier put his hands over his head.

“Bingo,” he muttered, and loosed a grappling arrow.

It embedded itself just above the bodega door. Roy rode the line down across the street, using his momentum to kick the door open with both feet. “Freeze!” he shouted, already rolling and drawing a second arrow, a plain broadhead this time.

He took in the scene in a split second: the cashier looking terrified with his hands up, the kids nearly as scared. And sure enough, one of them had a gun. Roy shot it out of his hand, sending it spinning across the floor.

That pretty much dealt with any threat these kids were going to pose, so Roy straightened up and let his bow hang by his side. “Okay, that’s enough of that,” he said. “Can we consider the ‘scared straight’ portion of the evening done, or do I need to call—”

Gunfire rang out, shattering the glass windows and door.

“Shit, shit!” Roy hissed, dropping to the ground. The cashier and the kids did the same. What the fuck? This was just a stupid corner bodega, who the hell was bringing this kind of firepower?

The gunshots slowed, becoming more scattered, and the kid who’d been holding the gun scrambled for his dropped weapon. “Kid, stay down!” Roy snapped.

But the idiot grabbed the gun and turned it on Roy with shaking hands. Shit.

“Shouldn’t have gotten involved, hero,” he said, but he sounded more petrified than intimidating.

“Do it, Eric!” his friend said. “You know how it works. Waste a cape and you’re made for life!”

“Okay, first, let the record show that I have never worn a cape,” Roy said, holding up his hands as pacifyingly as he could from his prone position. “Second, waste anyone and you’ve got a murder charge on your rap sheet. You think that’s a good idea?”

“Shut up!” Eric said. “Just...just fucking shut up, okay, and—”

Wonk! A Batarang came whizzing in from the opposite side of the store from the windows and hit him on the side of the head. He crumpled to the ground.

Oh, thank god. “You Bats always have impeccable timing,” Roy said, turning toward the direction it had come from, expecting to see Dick, or Bruce, or any of his gaggle of teen sidekicks. Hell, maybe even Helena.

It was none of those people.

His rescuer was a big man, taller and broader than Roy. He didn’t have a uniform, just a leather jacket over a kevlar shirt and tactical pants. His face was completely hidden by a red helmet, but Dick had filled Roy in on Gotham’s newest villain. Roy knew who the Red Hood was.

“J—” he started, and caught himself. “Hood. Thanks. What the hell’s going on outside?” The gunshots had stopped entirely, and he had a feeling Red Hood had something to do with that.

“Nothing, at the moment.” Red Hood’s voice was deep and yet somehow tinny, computerized by the helmet. “These two chucklefucks were hitting up the store as part of a gang initiation. Some of the gang members were watching to make sure they did it, so when you crashed the party, they started shooting.”

It shouldn’t have been possible to pick up on Red Hood’s tone with that voice modulator. Roy could still tell when he was being called an idiot. “Well. Thanks again.”

He had more questions, but they were less important than dealing with the current situation. He ziptied the still-conscious kid, who had seemed scared before but was clearly on the verge of pissing himself now that the Red Hood was here, and turned to the cashier. “I’m going to call this in,” he told him. “I can stay until the police get here.”

Red Hood seemed to take that as his cue, or maybe he’d just spent too many of his formative years around Batman, because when Roy turned around, he was gone. Roy gnawed at his lip. Maybe he should have asked those questions after all.

The quickest way to get help in Gotham was to call Oracle. He tipped her off to the situation without mentioning Red Hood, then checked to make sure the coast was clear outside. The two gangsters Red Hood had taken out were slumped on the sidewalk across the street, but they didn’t seem to be bleeding. Huh.

Once the cops had arrived and taken Roy’s statement, there was nothing left to do but go back to his own apartment. He decided to travel by roof—he still had some adrenalin to burn off. Not to mention that after over a decade in the business, he could tell when he was being followed.

Sure enough, a few blocks from the bodega, his tail came out of the shadows. Roy had been about to gather up speed to jump the next roof, but instead he let himself come to a stop.

“Jason,” he said. “Been a while.”

Red Hood paused. Then he reached up and pulled the helmet off.

And there in a red domino mask was Jason Todd, who Roy had last seen over six years ago. Roy had still been Speedy, then. Jason had been Robin, fifteen years old and excited by everything. Intellectually, Roy had known that this man and that boy were the same person, but it hadn’t seemed real until now. But there was the full red mouth Roy remembered, the dark locks hanging in heavy curls across his forehead.

Young Jason hadn’t had that sharp line to his jaw, though, or the dark stubble dusting it, or the bump in his nose that said it had been broken at one point and probably more than once. He hadn’t been this big, either, a couple inches taller than Roy with broad shoulders and thighs like tree trunks.

He hadn’t been carrying guns.

“Dick told you,” he said. His voice was different too, of course, a bass rumble without the helmet. Roy’s skin prickled.

“It came up,” he admitted. “He made you out to be a bit more bloodthirsty, though.”

Jason’s brow furrowed. “I don’t kill kids,” he said.

“And the guys outside?”

An easy shrug. “Knocked ‘em out and bugged ‘em. If they managed to wake up before the GCPD gets to the scene I’ll have ears inside wherever they’re holing up. Did they?”

“Nah, but it’s a smart play,” Roy said. “Okay, cool.”

Jason’s pause before he answered felt distinctly confused. “That’s it?”

“Sorry?”

“You’re not gonna try to take me in?” Jason asked. He gestured to himself. “Crime lord.” He pointed to Roy. “Superhero. It’s kind of what you do.”

“Crime lord? Really?” Roy asked. “Because you just saved my life, and I didn’t see you kill anyone.”

“You said Dick talked to you,” Jason said, and now he sounded vaguely annoyed.

“He did,” Roy agreed. “I’m still not gonna jump a guy who just saved my ass because you two got into it last year. Why, did you want me to try to take you in?”

Jason shrugged. “It seems to be the go-to move for most people,” he said. “Wouldn’t recommend it, though. It won’t end very well for you.”

Roy’s skin prickled with heat again at the unsubtle threat. “Well, lucky for you I’m not most people,” he said. “Plus I have some experience with being the guy everyone in the capes and tights set is talking about. I heard Dick’s side of the story. I didn’t hear yours.”

He paused. He should probably go home. The babysitter’s fee was going to be astronomical. Plus, it wasn’t like he didn’t believe Dick that Jason was a killer. The man had just threatened him, after all.

He just...wanted to believe he was more than just a killer. If only for the sake of the fifteen-year-old boy he remembered.

“You want to get a drink and tell me your side?” he asked.

This time the pause was much longer. Roy was starting to wonder if he should be reaching for his bow when Jason finally tilted his head and said, “Yeah, okay.”

Okay, then.

*

Roy had not remembered Jason’s eyes correctly. He’d vaguely categorized them as blue, mostly because Dick’s were, but that turned out to be overly simplistic. They were blue, but even in the dim, reddish light of the bar, he could pick out more complicated notes: flecks of gray and green under dark, heavy lashes. Tilted down at the outside corners, giving them a slightly mournful, appealing expression.

Watch it, Harper, he told himself sternly. This was Dick’s kid brother, after all, not to mention a self-proclaimed crime lord.

But shit, those eyes were something.

The bar was a shitty hole in the wall that looked like it might have had pretensions of being an Irish pub several decades back before giving in to ennui. It was a weeknight, after happy hour but before the less-than-legal jobs ended, so there were only maybe half a dozen hardened regulars there, slumped over the bar or sitting in booths and staring vacantly at the MMA playing on the TV.

Roy bought them a couple of beers, then pointed at the shabby pool table in the back, where a couple of men were finishing up a game. “Wanna play when they’re done?”

Jason gave him a curious look but shrugged. What, had he expected Roy to start grilling him on his philosophy toward violence the minute they walked in the door? “Sure,” he said.

Roy bit back a grin and leaned against a nearby booth to watch the current game wrap up. He nursed his beer slowly while he did. He didn’t mind the occasional social drink, but he knew better than to come anywhere close to getting fucked up, not with his history. Jason wasn’t drinking particularly quickly either, and something about the way his mouth twisted after each sip made Roy think maybe Jason hadn’t had beer very frequently in the past. He would only be about twenty-one, after all, and who knew what the fuck he’d been doing all these years?

It was sort of adorable. It also reminded Roy that he shouldn’t be watching Jason’s mouth as closely as he was.

The other men finished their game in silence, and Roy stepped forward to rack the balls. “You can break,” he told Jason magnanimously. It had been years since he’d found someone who was willing to play with him. He didn’t need to be an asshole right away.

“Okay.” Jason picked up a cue and lined up his shot. Roy’s eyes lingered on the way his pants stretched over the curve of his ass as he bent forward.

Fuck. Eyes up, Harper, he reminded himself, and watched as Jason’s break sank two striped balls.

“Not bad,” he said. Jason’s second shot missed, and Roy snagged a cue of his own off the rack and sent a solid ball into a corner pocket.

“So, what, are we just gonna fucking play pool?” Jason asked abruptly, sounding annoyed.

Roy peeked at him over his shoulder. “Did you have another item for the agenda?”

“You said you wanted to hear my side.”

Roy sank the red ball. “So talk.”

Jason scowled, then took a swig of his beer and made another face at it. “What’s the fucking point? You telling me you’re not gonna be like Dick and the rest of them? Superheroes don’t kill, right?”

“Preferably not,” Roy said, and Jason rolled his eyes. “I have, though.”

Jason choked on his next sip. “What?”

“When I worked for Checkmate, when I—oh, right. You were…away,” Roy said, and Jason snorted at the clumsy euphemism. “You know I did government work though, right? Last time I saw you it was the CBI. After that it was Checkmate, and I was mostly a sniper, and…” He shrugged again. “They usually weren’t interested in non-lethal methods for taking down targets.”

“Does Dick know?”

“Ohhh yeah,” Roy said, sinking the blue ball. Dick had been the recipient of about a third of Roy’s guilt-stricken three a.m. phone calls when his mind hadn’t been able to stop looping endlessly over what he’d done; Donna and Dinah had gotten the rest. All three of them had always stayed on the phone with him until the panicked half-sobs, muffled so as not to wake Lian, had subsided. He would always be grateful.

“What a fucking hypocrite,” Jason spat. “But then, the rules always were different for me, weren’t they?”

“Well, yeah,” Roy said, sinking the orange ball, and Jason looked surprised again. “You’re his kid brother. Of course he thinks he can tell you what to do. Of course he wants to think of you as the sweet, innocent kid you used to be.”

Jason snorted. “I stopped being innocent long before I became Robin.”

“Yeah, but you were still sweet,” Roy said, with a little smile. “I remember. Anyway, I’m not saying it’s the only reason, and I’m not saying he’s right. But maybe Dick’s just having a hard time seeing that you’ve grown up.”

“But you’re not?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m very aware that you’ve grown,” Roy said, and then realized how that sounded. Well, fuck it. It wasn’t like it wasn’t true, and if Jason was going to shoot him, he would’ve done so already.

But Jason just paused, and then raised an eyebrow. “You know, you could get in trouble talking like that in a place like this,” he said.

Roy met his eyes over the table. “Maybe I like trouble,” he replied. He didn’t think he imagined the way Jason’s breathing hitched slightly at that.

Then Roy sank the eight ball and straightened up. “And that’s the game,” he said.

Jason blinked at him, then the table. “Did you—did you just hustle me?” he spluttered.

Roy cracked up. “Shouldn’t play pool with an archer, Jay! It’s not gonna work out well for you.” This was why no one would ever play him anymore. He couldn’t even play Ollie, because whoever broke would just sweep the whole table and the game would be over. The look of shocked indignation on Jason’s face was well worth the price of one beer.

“You fucking asshole,” Jason said, but for the first time there was something approaching a smile on his face. Roy grinned back, feeling unreasonably pleased with himself.

“Hey!” said a voice behind him. “You two nancies wanna wrap it up so someone else can play?”

Roy turned around to see one of the regulars who’d been playing before them scowling at him. His bleary eyes told Roy he wasn’t sober; the broken capillaries in his red nose told Roy that this was his usual state.

“You just played, and we’ve had the table for two minutes,” he said. “I didn’t realize the demand was so high at one a.m. on a Thursday.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you uptown pricks coming down here and slumming it in the Narrows,” the regular said.

“Fuck you, I was born in Park Row,” Jason said, looking highly offended.

Roy shrugged. “I’m from Arizona. Is that uptown? I can never remember.”

“Oh, fancy boy here thinks he’s funny,” the regular said.

“I do, but I didn’t know I was fancy,” Roy said. “That’s going on the resume.” Jason snorted.

“Yo, Carl, these guys giving you trouble?” another regular asked, coming up on the other side of them. Roy caught Jason’s quick eye movement and knew he’d noticed they were being flanked, very inexpertly.

“Just pissin’ me off,” said the first regular—Carl, apparently. “But if they get the fuck out of our bar—and you know what, hand over that expensive-ass jacket—I’ll find a way to be magnanimous.”

Jason’s eyebrows went up. “You’re trying to roll me for my jacket?” He looked at Roy. “This is hilarious, right?”

“It’s pretty fucking funny,” Roy agreed. A couple of the other regulars had started to approach, and he wondered idly if this was a frequent occurrence when strangers wandered in. “Boys. Seriously. Go sit down. You don’t want any of this.”

“Trying to protect your boyfriend?” Carl asked.

“Oh no, I’m trying to protect you from him,” Roy said. “I’m the nice one. I’m so nice that I’ll even buy you all a round if you just walk away.”

“We don’t want your fucking craft beer, you hipster piece of shit,” said Not-Carl.

“I’m extremely positive they don’t serve craft beer here.”

“Enough of this,” Carl said, rolling his eyes and drawing back his fist to take a swing at Roy. “Let’s just kick their asses, the fucking—”

Crack! Jason hit him in the head with his pool cue and he went down like a sack of wet cement.

Roy shrugged. “Told you you didn’t want this.”

There was a moment of stunned silence from the bar’s regulars. Then someone yelled “Get them!” and every drunk still standing hurled themselves at Roy and Jason.

It was...not much of a fight. There were only about half a dozen opponents and they weren’t exactly trained fighters, not to mention they’d all probably been drinking for at least the past four hours. Roy got close to Jason, just in case, and Jason swung the cue at another regular and shot Roy a wild, feral grin.

“When you ask someone out for a drink, you don’t make it boring, do you?” he asked.

Roy couldn’t help grinning back. “Hey, you’re the one who hit him with a pool cue.”

He ducked under a thrown beer bottle and socked the thrower in the eye. Jason hit another one in the teeth and that was it—everyone was down except the couple of drunks slumped at the bar who had never gotten up in the first place.

“Well, that was invigorating,” Roy said. He glanced at the bartender, who was still wiping glasses behind the bar and looking bored. “We have a problem?”

The bartender shrugged. “You paid cash. I don’t care what you do.”

Jason was inspecting his knuckles, which were bleeding. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” Roy asked.

“Yeah, just sliced them open on that asshole’s teeth,” Jason said. “I’m gonna go wash this out, he probably had rabies.” He headed for the back of the bar, where a sign said “RESTROO” in what was left of its neon. Roy’s eyes drifted downward again as he walked away. Tactical pants didn’t do much for most men, but clearly Jason Todd wasn’t most men.

...Of course he wasn’t. What the fuck was Roy thinking? He was supposed to be home with his kid, not getting into bar fights and flirting with a confirmed murderer—who, not incidentally, was his best friend’s little brother. Maybe he could have made the case when this started, at least to himself, that he’d asked Jason out for a drink to try to get inside the guy’s head, show him that not every superhero was against him. Nudge him back toward the side of the angels a little.

But now? Now Roy’s blood was singing in his veins and the wild grin on Jason’s face was all he could see, and he wanted.

Roy knew what people said about him, but he did actually possess self-control. Enough to keep his head from being turned by a nice ass or a pair of captivating eyes or an unmistakable aura of danger. Or even all three at once.

The right thing to do here was ease way, way back on the double entendres, finish his beer, and go home to Lian. Maybe give Jason his number for purely potential team-up-related reasons, just to let the guy know he wasn’t alone. Roy knew well enough how feeling alone could send someone down a path they’d wind up regretting.

Yeah. That was what he should do. That was the right choice.

“Fuck it,” he said, and headed for the restrooms.

The men’s room was even more of a shithole than the rest of the bar, with the doors hanging at wonky angles on both stalls and graffiti everywhere. All it needed was a gloryhole to complete the aesthetic, and Roy figured the only reason there wasn’t one was related to the unconscious homophobes on the floor outside. Clearly this was not exactly the center of Gotham’s gay nightlife.

Jason was washing the blood out of his knuckles, which might have been the first time the tiny sink had ever been used. He met Roy’s eyes in the dingy mirror. “You need to go?” he asked.

Yeah, Roy knew all about how feeling alone could send someone down the wrong path.

“Not really,” he admitted.

Jason turned off the tap and flicked water from his hands before turning around. “So, what, you just missed my company?”

“Something like that.”

Jason walked toward Roy, who stayed where he was, in front of the door. Up close, Jason was definitely taller, even without the helmet, and almost certainly heavier, and Roy had just gotten ample evidence of how fast and vicious he could be. Roy wasn’t sure which of them would win in a fight if it came down to it, but it would be nasty, and it would hurt.

His dick twitched in his pants.

“You gonna move?” Jason asked.

Roy let his eyes drag all the way up the absolutely luxurious length of Jason, from his shitkicking boots to those fucking eyes, and he let Jason see him do it. “Do you want me to?”

Jason laughed and glanced away, but the movement of his chest told Roy he was breathing hard. “You weren’t kidding about liking trouble, huh?”

“God’s honest truth,” Roy said. “The only question is, does trouble like me?”

Jason kissed him.

Jason kissed him hard, slamming him against the door and licking into Roy’s mouth the second their lips made contact. Roy gave as good as he got, though, arching against that firm, heavy body, sliding his hands into Jason’s thick curls and tugging.

See, Dick, he caught himself thinking. He kissed me first. It wasn’t my fault. Then Jason nipped at his bottom lip and he stopped thinking anything at all.

Jason pressed him into the door hard enough to bruise, one thick thigh wedged between Roy’s. Roy let his hands drop from those curls to that ass, squeezing firmly and swallowing Jason’s startled moan.

“Fuck,” he managed, breaking away with a gasp. “Fuck, Jason, you’re so goddamn hot.”

“Shut up,” Jason grumbled, and kissed him again.

Roy kissed him back, grinding down on the thigh between his own. This was insane, this was so stupid, but god, he wanted to take Jason home. He wanted to see that big gorgeous body naked in his bed—except his bed was a shitty pull-out couch and Lian was asleep in the next room. He almost asked Jason if he lived nearby, but fuck if grinding on him in a disgusting men’s room after a fight wasn’t doing it for Roy almost as much as having Jason in a bed would. Maybe more.

He used his grip on Jason’s ass to pull him even closer. Jason was getting hard, Roy could feel it even through all of their clothes, and it made Roy wild.

“Can I jerk you off?” he asked. “Please, Jay, let me touch you, I want to do it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason said. “Is this how all superhero team-ups end?”

Roy laughed, knowing he sounded a little unhinged. “Only if I’m lucky,” he said. “Can I?”

Jason shuddered against him. “Fuck, yeah, do it,” he breathed.

Roy fumbled Jason’s pants open, reaching in and giving Jason’s dick a friendly squeeze before pulling him free. Jason was just as satisfyingly thick here as the rest of him, and the punched-out noise he made when Roy spat into his palm, got his hand around him properly, and stroked was something worth remembering.

“Yeah, fuck, let me hear you,” Roy said.

“We’re in a men’s room,” Jason replied with a shaky laugh.

“And everyone out there who got a good look at you and is still conscious is gonna be real jealous of me,” Roy said, grinning up at Jason and loving the way his face crumpled when Roy rubbed his thumb under the head of his cock.

“Are you always—fuck—this full of shit?” Jason asked.

“Does this feel like I’m lying?” Roy asked, using his free hand to grab Jason’s and press it against his still-clothed erection.

Jason’s eyes went wide, which was both surprising and strangely adorable. “Shit, Spee—Arsenal.”

“Roy,” Roy corrected him, rocking into Jason’s broad palm, his own hand still working Jason’s dick. “Once I’ve put my hand down your pants, you can call me by my first name.”

Jason’s breath hitched as Roy twisted his wrist. “Roy. Do you...do you want me to…?”

“Yeah,” Roy said. “God, yeah, Jay, please.”

Jason was clumsy getting Roy’s pants undone, but Roy couldn’t care less, especially when he was no longer uncomfortably trapped inside them and Jason’s callused fingers were on his sensitive skin. His hand was still bleeding. Fuck.

“Wait, hang on,” he said as Jason started to reciprocate, lifting Jason’s hand to his mouth. He dragged his tongue across the palm, as wet as he could make it, and felt Jason pulse precome into his fist. “There you go.”

“Jesus,” Jason breathed, but he folded his hand around Roy’s dick, matching Roy’s rhythm until they were rocking against each other, Jason panting hot breaths against the side of Roy’s face. Roy tugged him down into another kiss, bumping noses and missing his mouth before he managed it, then broke away to kiss down the stubbled line of Jason’s jaw and over his throat.

Jason let out a low whine that vibrated against Roy’s lips, and Roy’s blood fizzed in his veins like champagne. The Red Hood might be a name to fear on the streets, but he was a dream to touch, responding to every press of Roy’s mouth or change in his grip with barely muffled eager little sounds, like he couldn’t believe this was happening and never wanted it to stop. It just made Roy greedier, impatient to hear what other noises he could draw out of Jason, to watch him fall apart.

“Yeah,” Roy panted against Jason’s mouth, nonsensically. “Yeah, come on.”

“Roy,” Jason said again, sending a shock of pleasure down Roy’s spine. “Roy, fuck—!” and he muffled a groan in the curve of Roy’s neck as he spilled into his fist.

Roy bit his lip as he stroked Jason through it, his other hand coming up to pet Jason’s broad back. “Holy shit, that was so hot,” he said as Jason’s dick twitched a final time in his hand. “Holy shit, Jay.”

Jason slumped against him, his forehead resting on Roy’s shoulder, his hand loose around Roy’s dick. Roy pushed his hips into it, a gentle nudge. It wasn’t like he didn’t really, really enjoy Jason’s body weight pressing him to the door, but he needed a little more than that right now.

“Shit, sorry,” Jason mumbled, tightening his grip, leaving Roy free to clutch at him with his clean hand and rock into his fist.

“Fuck, yeah, Jay, that’s so good, you’re so good,” he babbled into Jason’s ear. “Yeah, like that, just like that, your hand looks so fucking good on me, you sounded so fucking sweet when you came…”

“Jesus, do you ever shut up?” Jason asked, capturing Roy’s mouth again, and when he nipped at Roy’s bottom lip hard enough to hurt, Roy came.

When Roy blinked the stars from his eyes, he was still sagging against the door, and Jason was back at the sink and washing his hands again. His cheeks were still very pink.

“I guess the romance is dead,” Roy said, with a grin and a wink so that Jason would know he was kidding.

Jason snorted. “Blame it on the ambiance,” he replied, nodding at their filthy surroundings.

Roy shuffled over to the sink and nudged Jason over with his hip so they could share the faucet, washing his own hands before tucking himself away and doing up his fly. Jason turned off the water, and then Roy was just...standing in a disgusting men’s room with his best friend’s little brother after they’d exchanged mutual handjobs.

Cool.

“I should head home,” he said. This was the part he was no good at, the part where he had to remind himself not to cling. “But hey, I’m gonna be in Gotham for the next few months or so. I can give you my number if you want to, uh, team up again. Euphemistically or otherwise.”

Well, so much for not clinging.

Jason glanced away, clearly uncomfortable. “Don’t need it,” he said. “This is Red Hood’s turf. If I need you, I’ll find you.”

If Roy couldn’t seem to resist setting himself up for rejection, he at least knew it when he heard it. “Cool, cool. Well, thanks again for the save tonight.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “Bye, Arsenal.”

Not Roy. Roy bit the inside of his cheek.

“Bye,” he said, and walked out of the bathroom.

Chapter 2

Despite his best efforts, Roy thought about basically nothing but Jason for the next week.

To be fair, he had very little else to think about. Lian was in kindergarten for six hours a day. He still hadn’t heard back from DC. He’d gone from the complicated logistics of running a superhero team—and the even more complicated logistics of allowing Dick to think he was running said team—to fiddling with trick arrows alone in his apartment. Which wasn’t a euphemism, but would have been accurate if it was.

So he thought about Jason. He thought about the way he moved, silent as a cat despite the size of him, and how he said he didn’t kill kids like he didn’t expect Roy to believe him. He thought the fierce joy on his face when he let the reckless violence explode out of him, and the way he blushed after sex. He thought about how he sounded when he came.

Roy had made enough mistakes in his life to recognize them after they happened. Before they happened, really, but that rarely seemed to stop him. So he was well aware that he’d screwed up with Jason, but he wasn’t sure if it had been when he’d stepped into the bar, or when he’d stepped into the bathroom.

He also wasn’t sure if it was the kind of mistake that blew over, or the kind that blew up. Jason seemed pretty explosive in general.

It did make for an awkward phone call with Dick, three days after the bar. Roy had the phone tucked between his chin and his shoulder while he tried to gather up Lian’s toys, which were overrunning the small apartment.

“Hey, you’re on Conway and Ninth, right?” Dick asked.

“Yeah,” Roy said, scooping up a toy truck that he was absolutely going to step on someday and wind up breaking his neck. “Why? Sending me a present?”

“Nice try. Lian, maybe,” Dick said. “I’d just...keep an eye out after dark if I were you.”

Roy raised an eyebrow, even though he knew Dick couldn’t see it. “I know we dissolved the Outsiders a whole two weeks ago, but I haven’t gotten totally out of shape since then.”

“No, I know you can take care of yourself, it’s just...that’s Red Hood’s territory.”

Roy dropped the truck and winced. He’d known this would have to come up at some point; why hadn’t he figured out what to say? Of course he wasn’t going to tell Dick that he and Jason had screwed around, but should he tell him he’d seen him? He hadn’t told Oracle that Jason had been at the bodega, but had she reviewed the security footage? Did Dick already know?

“Considering I’m neither a gangster nor a supervillain, I think Jason’ll probably leave me alone,” Roy said carefully. Shit, should he have called him Red Hood?

“Yeah, well, Bruce and I aren’t either of those things and that didn’t do us any good,” Dick said. “Or Tim.”

“I’m also not—” Roy cut himself off. Family might be a touchy word. “He has no reason to come after me.”

“He might do it to hurt me,” Dick said.

“Aw, Robbie, you care,” Roy teased. It was kind of nice to hear some concern for his well-being. He didn’t know how he felt about his friend apparently thinking he was only worth attacking if it hurt Dick, though. But that probably wasn’t how he’d meant it. “But I don’t think you’re being fair to him. He’s angry. He’s not a monster.”

“You haven’t seen him since he came back,” Dick said. Roy felt a degree of tension slip from his shoulders. Dick didn’t know about the bodega, at least. “He’s not the kid he used to be.”

“I know,” Roy said. Boy, did he. “I just don’t know if treating him like the enemy instead of the prodigal son is the right way to fix this.”

“Roy…” Dick sighed. “He’s not you.”

Roy frowned against the phone. “What do you mean?”

“I know you always want to give a pass to someone who screws up. And I admire that, I do,” Dick said. “You have a lot of empathy. But Jason chose to do the things he did.”

“So did I,” Roy said, nettled for no very good reason.

“Well,” Dick said, in the tone that meant he was changing the subject rather than disagreeing with Roy out loud, “you didn’t hurt anyone but yourself.”

“...Sure. I guess,” Roy said. “I’ll keep an eye out. Listen, I gotta go.”

“Okay. Talk to you later, Roy.”

*

Two nights after that, he got a text from an unknown number: Breaking up a dogfighting ring in the Narrows tonight. Could use backup. You want in?

Roy stared at the text. Backup. This man had fought Batman to a standstill and taken down the head of more than one local criminal organization. Roy had seen the way he fought. Did he really need backup, or did he just want to see Roy again? And if so, was it for crimefighting purposes or...something else?

He bit his lip. He could just ignore it. No matter what Dick said, he had a feeling that if he didn’t reply, Jason would leave him alone entirely.

This a lethal outing? he texted back.

Doesn’t have to be.

Roy glanced at where Lian was kneeling at the coffee table, coloring and singing along to The Little Mermaid. Then he glanced at the closet where he kept his gear.

No killing and I’m in.

The answer was immediate. Deal.

Well, whatever this was, it looked like Roy would be finding out soon enough.

Luckily, his usual babysitter was available, and Lian was very used to her daddy going out in kevlar at strange hours. After dinner, he kissed her goodbye and made his way to the address Jason had given him, a warehouse by the river.

Jason was in the helmet, which made sense but still left Roy feeling unreasonably disappointed. They ducked into the shadows of a nearby alley to discuss tactics.

“This is mostly a stupid nickel-and-dime operation, but almost everyone’s gonna be packing, so watch yourself,” Jason said.

“They’re not the only ones,” Roy noted, nodding towards the guns strapped to Jason’s broad thighs.

“I said I wouldn’t kill and I won’t. Doesn’t mean I can’t still find a use for these. Or are we banning all potentially deadly projectile weapons tonight?” Jason asked, nodding towards Roy’s bow. “Because I can go call Aqualad instead, Speedy.”

“I’m just saying,” Roy replied. “You really leaving those things in the holsters for little old me?”

The helmet was as impassive as ever. “I don’t want to risk hitting the dogs.”

Fair enough.

They took a shock and awe approach to breaking up the ring, dropping in from the ceiling with a flash grenade arrow and a lot of very noisy gunfire pointed safely up. There were nearly forty drunken assholes crammed into the warehouse, but the ones who were just there to drink and gamble scattered at their entrance, leaving Roy and Jason with the organizers and their underlings—seven all told.

The organizers might have been carrying, but most of them were too drunk or stupid or scared to even take their guns out. Roy was able to put down three of them and still spare enough attention to watch Jason out of the corner of his eye.

He was worth watching, in a real fight and not just a drunken barroom brawl. He didn’t move like Dick, all fluid grace and lighter-than-air acrobatics, but he didn’t have Batman’s firmly planted presence, either. What he had was an eclectic mix of styles, like he’d been trained by many very different masters; like he’d had to find a way to blend his weight and power with what seemed to be an unavoidably Robin-ish tendency to treat gravity as something optional. There was also an unmistakable viciousness to the way he fought, something Roy had seen in both Dick and Batman, but rarely and never as a matter of course.

Roy probably shouldn’t have found it as hot as he did.

Jason kept his word: he didn’t kill anyone. None of their opponents were avoiding a hospital visit, though. Looking at the kenneled dogs as they alternately cringed and snarled, though, Roy couldn’t seem to make himself feel too bad about that.

Jason put in an anonymous call to the police, since the ASPCA was closed this late, and they were out of the warehouse and back on the streets. It hadn’t been much of a fight, but Roy’s body was still buzzing with adrenalin.

“Thanks for your help,” Jason said as they moved away from the river. Roy snorted. “What?”

“You didn’t need my help,” Roy said. “I mean, thanks for the vote of confidence, but you could have handled twice that many on your own, and I think you know that.”

“What’s your point?” Jason asked.

Roy stopped walking and folded his arms, making Jason turn to face him. “My point is, do you want to find another bar? Or should we skip the charade and just go back to your place?”

Jason was silent for a long moment. Roy waited. He was pretty sure he’d read this right, but if he hadn’t…

“My place,” Jason said finally. “My bike’s a couple blocks away, we can take that.”

Roy grinned.

*

Roy’s neighborhood might have been Red Hood’s turf, but Jason didn’t live there. He lived a twenty-minute motorcycle ride away, in what Roy could tell was a gentrifying area from the way it sprouted luxury highrises like weeds.

Jason’s apartment was in one of those very same highrises. He stowed the bike in the basement garage and led Roy to the elevator. Inside, he had to turn a key before the elevator would let him hit the button for the penthouse.

“Fancy,” Roy said. “You can take the boy out of Wayne Manor, but you can’t take Wayne Manor out of the boy, huh?”

“Watch your mouth or you can go right back downstairs,” Jason said, pulling off his helmet and peeling off his mask. Roy eyed the security camera in the corner of the elevator, but he supposed Jason knew what he was doing. “This isn’t his money.”

“And if I’d rather have you watch my mouth instead?” Roy asked, smirking.

Jason raised his eyebrows at him. “That kind of line really work for you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Jason huffed, but his cheeks were starting to take on a pink tinge again. Roy was looking forward to seeing how flushed they could get.

The elevator let them out into a short hallway with what looked like a single, normal apartment door—except there was a retinal scanner next to it, and Roy suspected the door itself was made of something sturdier than wood. Jason unlocked three locks, scanned his eye, keyed in a code, and opened the door with a glance at Roy like he expected him to say something about it. But Roy was used to the paranoia of both the uber-wealthy and superheroes.

Instead, he walked into the apartment and looked around appreciatively. “Okay, I have seen some nice digs in my day, but this is something else.”

Jason glanced over his shoulder as he locked the locks and rearmed the security system. “Oh, uh, yeah. It’s pretty nice.”

“Nice” was a ridiculous understatement for a sprawling penthouse with twelve-foot ceilings, one that clearly took up the whole top floor of the building. Just standing in the entrance Roy could see French doors leading to a balcony, an apparently functional fireplace, and a kitchen with what looked like restaurant-grade equipment. He couldn’t tell what was down the hallways branching off in opposite directions, but he was betting on at least six bedrooms, a fully equipped gym, and maybe—hopefully—a whirlpool tub.

He leaned his bow against the wall and shrugged out of his quiver as Jason stored his guns in a safe by the door. “You should give me a tour,” he said.

Jason blinked. “What, really?”

“Definitely.” Roy dropped his jacket on top of his quiver, and then his gloves. “Start with your bedroom.”

The surprise melted off of Jason’s face and he even went so far as to smile. It was enough excuse for Roy to cross the three steps to him and pull him into a kiss. Jason met him with less violence than last time, but just as much heat, his still-gloved hands landing on Roy’s biceps and tightening.

Okay, so maybe this was still a bad idea. Right now, Roy didn’t particularly care.

He kissed his way down Jason’s throat, his lips grazing a pale scar that angled diagonally across it. Jason flinched and Roy moved to the unscarred side of his neck, feeling Jason shudder against him.

He plucked at Jason’s jacket. “You are still way too dressed, and we are way too vertical,” he said, pulling back.

Jason rolled his eyes, but he didn’t actually look annoyed. “Sorry I’m not multitasking up to your standards."

“No need to multitask if you don’t want to,” Roy said sweetly. “Take me to your bedroom and I’ll do all the work of undressing you myself.”

He saw Jason’s throat jump, and then there was a firm hand clamped around Roy’s forearm and he was being dragged through that unnecessarily enormous living room and down a hall. He grinned and let Jason tow him along, using his free hand to loosen his belt and the other closures of his suit as they went because holy shit did he not want to wait one second longer than he had to to feel Jason’s skin against his.

The main suite was just as ridiculously huge as Roy would have expected, with a neatly made California king, a door branching off to an en suite bathroom, and little else. Roy reached for Jason’s jacket, and Jason put up a hand to stop him.

“You first,” he said.

“Fine, but don’t you dare take anything off,” Roy replied, bending to tug at the fastenings of his boots. “That’s my job.”

He wondered briefly if he was playing with fire, telling the Red Hood what to do—but though Jason’s throat bobbed, he didn’t say a word. It was a hell of a rush.

Jason watched as Roy yanked his boots off, then proceeded to strip the rest of the way out of his clothes. He didn’t bother to try to make it showy—he was too impatient, and besides, he still had Jason’s clothes to look forward to. Judging by the slight sound Jason made when Roy shoved down his pants and boxer briefs to reveal his half-hard dick, Roy’s lack of artistry wasn’t a problem.

Roy kicked his discarded pants into the corner of the room, and then he was stark naked in front of a fully clothed Jason, who looked flatteringly poleaxed. Roy grinned. He didn’t have any illusions about where he ranked on the scale of superhero heartthrobs, not after growing up next to Dick and Garth, but he knew he was in great shape, and that usually did the trick. Besides, being completely naked with someone who wasn’t had always kind of done it for him.

Not that that meant he was going to leave Jason’s clothes on. “Your turn,” he said, stepping in and sliding Jason’s jacket off his shoulders. His kevlar shirt was next, and then the T-shirt that clung like a second skin beneath it, leaving Jason bare from the waist up and breathing hard. Roy’s brain stuttered something helpless about shoulders and pecs and abs, but he only let his hands skim over all that warm skin briefly, tracing the dark hair that was dusted over Jason’s chest down to where it thickened above the waistband of his pants.

Next came the holsters, which he had to bend to unbuckle properly. “Fuck, what these things do for your thighs and ass should be illegal,” he murmured, tossing them after the rest of their clothes.

“My thighs?” Jason repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Do you not know what you have here?” Roy asked, spreading his palms over the muscular legs in front of him, and grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”

He backed Jason up towards the bed and gave him a little push. Jason let him have it, dropping onto the mattress with his legs hanging off the side. Roy knelt between them, and heard Jason’s breath hitch as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch. Roy’s grin widened. He knew perfectly well what Jason was thinking about with Roy kneeling naked between his spread legs. But all he did was tug off Jason’s boots, one by one, followed by his socks.

“I feel like it’s my birthday,” he said, reaching up to undo Jason’s fly. “And such a nice present to unwrap.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Jason said, rolling his eyes, but his cheeks were a gorgeous pink that made Roy want to kiss them.

Instead, he hooked his fingers into the waistbands of Jason’s pants and underwear at the same time and helped him wiggle out of them, tossing them out of the way. And then Jason was sitting completely naked on his bed, hard as a rock and so outrageously hot Roy was tempted to pinch himself.

Maybe he could get Jason to do the pinching later. For now, he straddled Jason’s lap and kissed him. Jason kissed back, his hands landing a little hesitantly on Roy’s waist, and Roy huffed against Jason’s mouth and reached back to move them to his ass.

“Oh,” Jason said, digging his fingers in. Roy hummed his approval and rocked against him, his dick dragging against Jason’s, trapped between their stomachs.

“Now what should I do with my present?” he asked, fingers sliding into Jason’s curls so he could tip Jason’s head back to meet his gaze. “What do you want, Jay? You want me to suck you? You want to fuck? Tell me.”

Jason looked up at him, flushed and wide-eyed. God, those eyes were incredible. If he only knew the things that naturally pleading expression could get him. “I...fuck, Roy, I don’t…”

“Can I blow you?” Roy asked, partially to take pity on his indecision and partially because he’d wanted Jason’s dick in his mouth the second he’d seen it back in that bathroom. “Let me suck you off, Jay, please.”

“God,” Jason said shakily. “Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

Roy got up off of his lap and nudged him until he was lying approximately the right way on the bed, then settled down between his legs. “Like I was saying earlier, these are a goddamn sin,” he said, skating his hands up Jason’s thighs, feeling the muscle tense beneath his palms.

“They’re thighs,” Jason said, frowning perplexedly at him.

“They’re a bear trap, and I am an innocent fox walking into my doom.” Roy leaned down and nipped at the sensitive skin of Jason’s inner thigh, close to the seam of his groin.

Jason snorted. “That metaphor is both mixed and stupid.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s rendered me stupid with how hot you are, so it’s really your fault,” Roy replied, nipping at the other thigh both for symmetry and because he liked the way it made Jason jump.

“Jesus,” Jason said, throwing his arm over his face. “Weren’t you going to do something with your mouth besides run it?”

“Sweet talker,” Roy said, but he shifted forward and steadied Jason’s dick with one hand before giving the head an exploratory lick. Jason let out a strangled noise and Roy glanced up at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just—yeah,” Jason said, peeking down at him from under his forearm. He waved his other hand at Roy in a “go on” gesture. “Knock yourself out.”

Roy huffed a laugh and settled in to enjoy himself, licking and tasting Jason all over before taking him in his mouth. Jason felt good there, thick and hot, and it had been so long since Roy had been with anyone and even longer since he’d been with someone with a dick.

“Fuck,” Jason breathed as Roy bobbed his head, his thigh twitching and tensing beneath Roy’s hand. Roy glanced up from under his lashes to see that Jason was still hiding his face, his chin tipped back and the flush from before spilling all the way down his throat and across his chest.

Christ, he was gorgeous. Roy sucked harder, enjoying the way it made Jason swear as his stomach muscles clenched. Gone was the intimidating Red Hood from the questionable side of the Bowery. Oh, Jason was clearly still dangerous—the corded muscle of his forearm across his eyes and the knotted scars all over his body spoke to that. But he was all pleasure and need right now, and Roy had done that, and it was beautiful.

He moved the hand on Jason’s dick lower, cupping and rolling his balls while his mouth slid farther down on his length. Jason swore again, hips jerking up, but Roy was ready for him, his other hand spreading flat over Jason’s stomach to hold him down. It wasn’t anywhere near enough to keep him in place, not with Roy’s lack of leverage, but it was a reminder. Even if Roy wouldn’t have minded being choked. Just a little.

“Fuck, Roy, oh shit fuck fuck…” Jason breathed. Roy glanced up again to see that Jason had moved his arm and was now tugging on his own curls like it was the only way he could think of to hold himself back. It made Roy moan around his dick and rub himself against the bed. He wanted to tell Jason to pull his hair instead, but he didn’t want to stop sucking him long enough to do it, and his hair was too short these days anyway.

“Roy,” Jason said, looking down and meeting Roy’s eyes, and Roy pulsed precome into the duvet. “Fuck, I’m gonna...I can’t…”

Then his eyes snapped shut and he was coming thick and bitter across Roy’s tongue. Roy groaned and swallowed what he could, pulling off to wipe the rest from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jason stared at him, looking dazed. “Holy shit.”

“Jason, Jason, I need—” Roy scrambled forward, up over the gorgeous muscled expanse of Jason until he could kiss him, hard. Jason clutched at him, one hand in his hair and the other on his ass, and Roy slipped a hand between them to jerk frantically at his own dick.

“Fuck,” Jason said against his mouth, and looked down. “What should I...how can I…?”

“Just…” Roy grabbed Jason’s hand out of his hair and brought it to his cock. “Like that. Fast and hard.”

“God,” Jason choked, but he obeyed, pumping Roy’s dick just like he wanted it, like he needed it, and Roy panted against Jason’s shoulder and babbled nonsense until he came all over Jason’s stomach.

He sagged, dropping his sweaty forehead to Jason’s equally sweaty collarbone for a minute before rolling over to flop beside him. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. He propped himself up and reached for the tissues on the nightstand, wiping off his hand and stomach with a slight wrinkle to his nose that made Roy smile. “What?” Jason asked when he noticed.

“Nothing,” Roy said. “You’re just cute.”

Jason’s eyebrows went up. “That’s the last thing I am.”

“If you say so.”

Jason rolled his eyes but threw out the tissue and let his head drop to the pillow without further protest. Roy rolled onto his side to study his profile—the strong line of his brow, the crooked bump where his nose had been broken, the turned-down curve of his lower lip.

“What?” Jason said after another long minute of Roy watching him.

“What what?” Roy asked.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I’m looking at you. I had your dick in my mouth a minute ago, I’m allowed.”

“Yeah?” Jason scoffed, although his cheeks went pink again. “How would you like it if I just lay here and ogled you?”

Roy propped himself up on one elbow, pinup-style. “Be my guest.”

Looking extremely put-upon, Jason rolled onto his side and glowered his way up and down Roy’s body. But his expression softened after a minute, like he was actually looking because he wanted to and not just to make a point. Roy shifted slightly under the scrutiny as his dick made a valiant but futile effort to get right back in the game.

Jason suddenly reached out like he was going to touch Roy’s chest, but he pulled back before he made contact. “What happened here?”

Roy looked down, startled. Jason was looking at the scars from his shooting. Five ugly little pockmarks where the bullets had gone in, and the thin vertical ridge of scar tissue where they’d cut him open to get the bullets out.

He wasn’t surprised that Jason had noticed them. Roy had scars everywhere, the cost of fighting crime since he was twelve, but these were the nastiest, and they hadn’t had much time to fade.

What surprised him was that he’d been so eager to get his hands on Jason that he’d forgotten about them himself. It was the first time the shooting hadn’t been weighing on the back of his mind in...a long time. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Took five bullets in the chest,” he said. “I know it’s not the prettiest thing to look at.”

Jason shook his head. “Not the prettiest…? You’re so…fuck, it’s unfair.” He made a helpless gesture that seemed to encompass all of Roy before his lips tightened. “But if you don’t like scars, I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

Because Jason had them too, of course, and not just on his chest. A lot of them were pale and faded, like most of Roy’s. A lot of them weren’t.

It wasn’t that Roy hadn’t noticed. It was just that he hadn’t processed them as any different than the broken nose or the full mouth or the loose curls that were now in wild, hilarious disarray from Jason tugging on them—all part and parcel of a gorgeous man who hit Roy’s buttons so precisely it was like he’d been engineered to do so.

“I don’t like getting shot in the chest,” he said. “If you’re not convinced that I think you’re hot as hell, give me ten minutes and I’ll try again.”

Jason’s blush went darker and he rolled onto his back again, but he didn’t say anything. Well, fine, if that was how he wanted it… Roy pushed onto his hands and knees and crawled forward to lean over that blushing face.

“Hi,” he said.

Jason’s expression went soft again. “Hi,” he replied, and let Roy kiss him, slow at first but growing gradually more heated, gradually more urgent…

Roy’s stomach growled audibly.

Jason burst out laughing against Roy’s mouth, and Roy sat back on his heels. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I get hungry after both crimefighting and sex. Sue me.”

“What if I just feed you?” Jason asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Come on.”

Jason pulled on pajama pants before they left the bedroom, so Roy tugged on his own boxer briefs to at least attempt to match the dress code. The huge refrigerator in the huge kitchen was largely empty, but there was a pizza box with three leftover slices in it.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Roy said as Jason turned on the oven to preheat it. “You can just bang it in the microwave.”

Jason turned to stare at him. “I could heat it up over an open flame, too, but I thought we’d be civilized.”

“Feels like a microwave is actually significantly further along from open flame cooking than an oven,” Roy pointed out.

Jason sniffed. “You can eat soggy crust in your own home, Harper, but not mine,” he said.

Roy turned around and leaned back against the counter to appraise said home. It really was a great apartment—or at least, it was the bones of a great apartment, because it barely looked like anyone lived here. There was no art on the walls, no random belongings strewn about the way there always had been everywhere Roy had lived, and even the amount of furniture Jason owned seemed way too sparse for the floor space. It was...sterile. Cavernous, like if Roy raised his voice he would hear an echo.

“Did you just move in?” Roy asked.

“Mm? No, I’ve been here about six months,” Jason said. “Why?”

Because your lack of clutter makes me weirdly depressed seemed like a rude thing to say, so Roy shrugged instead. “Just jealous, I guess. Our whole place is smaller than your bedroom, and there’s two of us.”

Jason frowned as he put the leftover slices in the oven to heat up. “Us?”

“Lian,” Roy said, and when Jason’s frown deepened, clarified: “My daughter.”

“Right. Shit,” Jason said, closing the oven. “You have a kid.”

“Yeah,” Roy said, raking a hand through his hair. “I guess you’ve known as long as I have, huh? That’s weird.”

He hadn’t known Jade was pregnant. He hadn’t known he was a father until Jade had attacked him while he was on a Titans mission. Him and Jason, the one and only time they’d met before Jason’s death. Jason’s presence always seemed to recede from those memories, buried in the overwhelming shock that he had a child.

Roy felt guilty, suddenly, for barely remembering that Jason had been there for what might have been the single most important moment of his life. After all, Jason had died only months later. Roy should have done him the honor of remembering him better.

“Yeah,” Jason echoed. “I didn’t really think about...I mean, I remember Cheshire showing up, but it never felt real, you know? And then…”

“Shit happened?” Roy suggested.

Jason gave him a wry look. “That’s one way to put it. Anyway.” He visibly shook it off. “Her name’s Lian?”

“Yeah.” Roy couldn’t help his smile. He never could, talking about her. “She’s five. She’s in kindergarten now. She’s so fucking smart, Jay, it’s ridiculous.”

And just like that, an impulsive hookup turned into gushing about his daughter while they ate leftover pizza sitting in that cold, empty kitchen. He told Jason about all the funny little things Lian did that reminded him of himself or Jade or even Ollie; how she already had an eye for a clear shot; how she had the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever met. He told Jason about how much he hated uprooting her over and over again, from England to New York to Ireland to California to DC and back to New York.

“And now we’re here in Gotham,” he concluded. “Not for very long, because as soon as I hear from the Feds we’re headed to DC. I’m hoping it’s not more than six months. But in the meantime we’re in this shitty, tiny apartment, which...I mean, you know the neighborhood. And the local school isn’t great. But what am I going to do, burn through my savings to pay the rent somewhere we’re only going to live for a few months? That’s if I can find a better place that won’t make me sign a one- or two-year lease.” He dropped the last of his crust on his plate. “Sorry, sorry, you don’t want to hear me complaining about kindergarten placement and lease durations.”

“It’s fine,” Jason said. But his brow was furrowed and he paused for a minute before adding, “There’s a two-bedroom available in this building, actually. If you wanted it.”

“Ha!” Roy said. “I’d love it. But this place is way out of my price range right now.”

“No, I mean…” Jason paused again. “I own the building. I meant you could just...use it. However long you need. No lease, no rent.”

Roy blinked at him. His first thought was that of course Jason owned the building. If Roy hadn’t already known full well that Jason was a Bat at heart by the way he moved and the way he brooded, casually dropping that he owned a luxury highrise would have done the trick. None of them could stand to spend a hundred where they could spend a thousand, and Battish paranoia certainly explained the level of security it took to get into the penthouse. It also explained why Jason had felt comfortable taking off his mask in the elevator; probably no one else ever saw that footage.

His second thought was that Jason was kidding. Rent on an apartment in a building like this, in a neighborhood like this, had to be astronomical, even if it wasn’t the penthouse. No one was going to just hand something like that to someone like Roy, especially not a guy who barely knew him and whose resume skewed quite a bit closer toward “supervillain” than “philanthropist.”

“Wow,” Roy said, laughing. “I knew I was good in bed, but no one’s ever offered me an apartment just for easy access before.”

“Oh,” Jason said. “That...uh...I.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Is that on the table?”

For the second time in two minutes, Roy stared at him. Was Jason actually offering him an apartment in exchange for sex? “It’s your table,” he said finally.

Jason seemed to take that literally, staring at the black, lacquered surface of the kitchen table between them. “You were right about that neighborhood,” he said. “You shouldn’t be stuck there if you don’t have to be. Lian shouldn’t be stuck there. There’s an apartment just sitting empty a few floors down from this one. And if you’re here, and...I mean, I had a good time tonight, and the other night, so…”

He looked up and stuck his chin out mulishly, like he was going to say what he was going to say, and Roy could take it or leave it. But his cheeks blazed pink.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s on the table.”

Roy swallowed. Okay. So Jason was offering him an apartment in exchange for sex.

He should say no, right? He shouldn’t even be considering this. He should say no, and delete the number he’d already saved as Jason’s in his phone, and avoid teaming up with Red Hood in the future. Dick had even warned him, although admittedly Roy didn’t think Dick could have foreseen...this.

But he’d also had fun. Hell, just going down on Jason had been one of the hottest things he’d done in ages. If the conversation hadn’t taken this strange twist, he would have been squinting at the clock on the microwave to see if there was time for a second round before he had to get home to Lian and the babysitter. He couldn’t deny that he liked the idea of living close enough to Jason for an easy afternoon delight or three. He could think of plenty more that he wanted to do to that gorgeous body.

He also couldn’t deny that he’d feel better having Lian in a safer neighborhood, in a building like a fortress. And the money he’d save was nothing to sneeze at, either. Plus, it wasn’t like it was forever—he was moving to DC in a few months. Really, Jason was offering to take away all of Roy’s worries in exchange for something Roy would have been angling for a chance to do anyway.

He should still say no.

“Okay,” he said.

Jason’s jaw dropped. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” Roy shrugged. “I mean, if you’re really happy to let us use the apartment, I’m happy to let you use me.” He ended it with a leer, unable to help himself, and Jason went even redder.

“I don’t...I mean…” Jason paused, frowning again. “I don’t want anything from you that you wouldn’t want.”

God. Under the big scary exterior, he was really so fucking cute. “Jay. Trust me. I’m having a real hard time thinking of anything I wouldn’t be eager for you to do to me,” Roy said. Jason probably couldn’t have blushed any harder at that point, but it looked like he was trying anyway. “But I promise I’ll tell you if there’s something I’m not into.”

“Okay,” Jason said. “Okay. So I guess...we’re doing this?”

“I guess we’re doing this,” Roy agreed, and wondered just how big of a mistake he was making this time.

Chapter 3

Just over a week later, Roy unlocked the door to their new apartment with the keys that had been left with the doorman for him, and pushed it open. From around knee level, he heard Lian gasp.

“Daddy!” she said. “It’s so pretty!”

“Pretty” wasn’t necessarily the word Roy would have chosen, but he had to agree. They were standing in the entrance to an open-plan common area that could easily have fit their entire previous apartment twice over. The floors were a light, gleaming hardwood, the walls a soft eggshell, all brightened by the sun pouring in through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a balcony and a fireplace, just like Jason’s apartment, and a smaller but still impressive kitchen.

“Where’s my bedroom?” Lian asked.

“I don’t know, bug, why don’t we go look?” Roy suggested. She went tearing off down the hall and he followed, trying to wrap his head around a situation that still felt a bit unreal.

It had been easy enough to get out of his lease, which was month-to-month anyway. He hadn’t seen Jason since the night they’d settled on this arrangement, which left him feeling a bit unsettled for no reason that he could put a finger on, but Jason had assured him over text that he’d take care of everything: having keys made, giving Roy and Lian’s information to the building’s security staff, hiring movers. Roy, busy packing up everything he owned and getting Lian switched over to her new school, hadn’t argued.

Lian had taken the news of their move and her new school philosophically. She was used to upheaval, which still made Roy feel wretchedly guilty, but at least she hadn’t been in her old school long enough to get particularly attached. And the absolute delight with which she flung open doors in the new apartment went a long way toward assuaging said guilt.

“I found it! This is my room!” she shouted from what turned out to be an enormous bedroom with an ensuite bathroom.

“Hmm, actually I think this is my bedroom, but nice try,” Roy said. Being the adult had its privileges.

Lian pouted for all of three seconds before discovering the second bedroom, which might not have been the main suite but was still far bigger than any five-year-old needed. There was a full second bathroom across the hall from it; both baths were done in pale marble and gleaming chrome. Other doors revealed a compact little laundry room and a truly ludicrous amount of closet space. Roy guesstimated the monthly rent on a place like this and tried not to blanch.

“I’m gonna have to step up my game,” he muttered. This was worth so much more than a hasty handjob in a men’s room.

“What?” Lian asked.

“Nothing.” But god, it was too much. Roy didn’t deserve this. Roy wasn’t worth this. Sure, he’d been picked up and plunked into some fancy real estate before, but that had been as a child. He had to earn something like this now, and though he’d always been pretty confident about his bedroom prowess, he was pretty sure Jason was getting the raw end of the deal here.

The doorbell rang, and Roy’s heart stuttered. How could he thank Jason for this? More to the point, how could he thank him in a way that was appropriate in front of Lian? How was he even going to explain who Jason was to Lian?

“I’ll get it I’ll get it I’ll get it!” Lian yelled, running down the hall. Roy hurried after her, too late to stop her from opening the door before he figure out what to say or how to school his facial expression properly—

It wasn’t Jason. It was the movers who had collected all of their furniture back in the Bowery, with the first pieces of furniture in tow. “Hey there, Mr. Harper. Okay if we bring these in?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks,” Roy said, gathering Lian out of the way again and wondering why he suddenly felt so disappointed.

Lian made a face as the movers put their couch in the middle of the vast field that was the living room. “Daddy, our furniture’s too small.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to fill up this space,” Roy agreed. He thought briefly of Jason’s significantly bigger and even emptier apartment. Then one of the movers asked where Lian’s dresser should go, and he forced himself back to the present.

He kept half-expecting Jason to show up, but there was still no sign of him even once the movers were finished. Once Roy had thanked them, tipped them, and closed the door behind him, he took out his phone. were all moved in downstairs, he texted. this place is amazing and lian is so excited. i cant thank u enough (tho im gonna try) 🍆 💦

A minute later, his phone dinged. Glad she likes it. Welcome to the building.

And that was it.

*

The rest of the weekend was...weird. Jason never showed up or called, though he did text to inform Roy that the building had a pool, a fitness center, and a rooftop garden that he could use. Roy spent most of his time unpacking their things and moving furniture around, trying to find configurations that made the rooms look less empty and wondering how much sense it made to buy more stuff when they’d just have to move it all to DC soon, and would definitely have to downsize back down to a smaller apartment.

He thought about a house, sometimes. A house in Star City, where the air was fresh and pine-scented and he knew every street. With a backyard with a swingset and his family in walking distance and glow-in-the-dark stars he could stick on Lian’s ceiling without worrying about losing their deposit if they didn’t come off smoothly.

Then he looked around the insanely luxurious apartment that Jason had gifted him after meeting him all of three times like it was nothing, and wondered how much it would take to satisfy him.

On Monday morning he brought Lian to her new school, walked her to the classroom door and met her teacher. Then he squatted down and gave Lian a big hug. “Be good, okay, bug?” She nodded, but looked troubled. “What’s wrong? Are you worried about your new school?”

“No,” she said, frowning. “But are you gonna be lonely while I’m at school? The new apartment’s too big and Uncle Dick is all the way in Bludhaven.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, giving her another hug and a kiss on the top of her head. “No, baby, I’ll be fine. I have some, um, grownup stuff to do.”

Well, that was one way of putting it.

But it was true, wasn’t it? Roy and Jason had made an agreement, and Jason had held up his side of the bargain. Now it was Roy’s turn. Maybe it was because of the work he’d done to get sober and maybe it was because of a childhood spent watching Ollie flake on every obligation he was handed, but Roy made it a point to follow through on his promises.

Or maybe he just wanted to see Jason naked again.

Half an hour later he was texting Jason from the lobby of his—their—building: how do i get 2 ur apt w/o a key

The reply was prompt: Hit the button. I can buzz you in.

When the elevator opened on the top floor, Jason was standing in the open doorway to his apartment wearing a different pair of pajama pants and—disappointingly—a long-sleeved T-shirt. His curls were a tangled mess of bedhead, but the scent of coffee told Roy that Jason had to have been up for at least a little while before his text. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Roy said. “I just got back from dropping Lian off at school, and I figured you might want some breakfast.” He held up a paper bag. “There’s a fancy-ass French bakery near her new school. You like croissants?”

Jason stepped back to let Roy into the apartment, but he still looked confused. “You brought me breakfast?”

“And coffee, which I now see is unnecessary,” Roy said, nodding towards the steaming coffeemaker as he walked past Jason into the kitchen. “You got, like, a big plate or something?”

“Um.” Jason opened a cabinet that was almost completely empty and handed Roy a plate.

“Thanks,” Roy said, and started pulling pastries out of the bag. “Listen, I know what it’s like to wake up exhausted and starving after patrol and know you have to actually make something if you want to eat. And the bakery was right there, so I got regular and almond croissants, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins, brioche, chouquettes, uh...don’t know what these are called…” He stood back and frowned at the plate. “I might have gotten too much food.”

“You brought me breakfast,” Jason repeated, staring at the plate heaped with probably a year’s allotment of butter. There was a bruise on his cheekbone and a little dried blood at his hairline—his or someone else’s, Roy couldn’t tell.

“Lian’s so happy with the apartment,” Roy said. “I’m so happy with it. I wanted to do something nice for you.” He let his smile go slow and lazy. “But we can eat breakfast first.”

Jason went that gratifying shade of pink. “You don’t have to—”

“We had a deal,” Roy said. “Besides, did I say I had to, or did I say I want to?” He felt oddly nervous, which was stupid. Jason had given him the apartment in exchange for sex—he wasn’t going to turn around and reject him. “So. Do you want a pain au chocolat, or do you want to take me to bed?”

Jason blinked twice, then closed a hand around Roy’s wrist, just this side of painful. Roy’s dick twitched in his pants.

“Bed,” Jason said firmly, and Roy laughed in relief as Jason tugged him down the hall.

*

They settled into a routine after that. Roy would drop Lian off at school in the morning, then pick up breakfast for himself and Jason: pastries, breakfast burritos, annoyingly good oatmeal from an obnoxious hipster place that only sold artisanal oats.

He learned quickly to stick to things that would reheat well. Somehow they never seemed to manage to get to the breakfast before they ended up in Jason’s bed, or on the couch, or once, memorably, on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, they’d share a lazy breakfast, and then, if neither of them was in a hurry, they might go again. Roy grew very familiar with Jason’s dick; with his big, broad hands; with the hesitant way his mouth always moved on Roy at the start before he seemed to gain confidence. Roy liked all of them.

The routine broke the first Saturday after Lian started school. Roy had taken her to the playground and was pushing her on the swings when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Jason. Everything okay?

yeah, Roy texted back. just spending the day w lian. its saturday

Of course. Sorry. Have a good weekend.

Roy bit his lip, staring at the screen and wondering why he felt guilty. He couldn’t shake the mental image of Jason sitting in his kitchen, waiting for Roy to buzz from the elevator. Wondering if Roy was hurt, or if Roy had just abandoned him.

“Daddy, push me!” Lian said, shaking Roy out of his funk.

“Sorry, bug,” he said, slipping his phone back in his pocket and giving her a solid push.

After all, Jason was an adult who had been fully capable of making his own breakfast before this past week and would presumably be capable of doing so again. It was probably better that Roy didn’t turn up every single morning. Jason had always seemed enthusiastic, but even a healthy, active twenty-one-year-old man had mornings he didn’t want to fuck, and Roy didn’t need to push Jason into getting tired of him faster than he normally would. Of course, Jason could just send Roy away if he wasn’t in the mood—he was paying for this, after all—but that mental image didn’t sit any better with Roy than the one of Jason being lonely did.

Briefly he wondered if he should have invited Jason to spend the morning with them—but that was ludicrous. He and Jason weren’t dating. They weren’t even friends. Jason was paying Roy for sex, no matter how much they danced around it. Not to mention the fact that he was a killer.

Though honestly, the latter didn’t worry Roy too much where Lian was concerned. Jason might be dangerous to Roy, and he was definitely dangerous to criminals, but Roy suspected Jason would die again before he’d let anyone hurt a child, himself included.

None of which mattered, because Roy was being ridiculous, and Jason was fine.

But on Monday, he made sure to pick up bagels from the place Jason had really liked the previous Wednesday. Just in case.

Not that they had anything to eat for quite a while. Roy barely managed to set the paper bag down on the counter before Jason was pressing him up against the fridge, kissing him like he hadn’t seen him in weeks and not just an absence of two days. Roy draped his arms around Jason’s neck and pressed up against him, just to feel the strength of Jason when he held Roy in place.

“Miss me, Jaybird?” he asked with a grin when Jason pulled back to breathe. Jason rolled his eyes, and Roy said, “I missed you,” because he was a fucking idiot, apparently.

“You ever get tired of talking absolute bullshit?” Jason grumbled, but he ducked his head to kiss Roy’s neck anyway.

Roy tipped his chin back to give him better access and reached a hand between them to cup Jason through his pajama pants. He was already hard. Roy wondered if he’d been hard just waiting for Roy. “I missed this,” he said, like it would salvage things, and Jason growled and bucked into his hand.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, they were mostly naked and Roy’s lips were tingling from kissing. “Hey,” he asked as he straddled Jason’s waist. There were new bruises on Jason’s ribcage and what looked like a healing knife wound on his forearm, not too deep. Roy kept his touches gentle anyway. “How do you feel about fucking?”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “If you can’t tell by now, I’m doing something wrong.”

“No, I mean...not sex in general. Anal,” Roy clarified.

“Oh,” Jason said. He looked a bit taken aback, but the way his dick twitched against Roy’s stomach made him think that Jason wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea.

“It’s okay if you’re not into it,” Roy said quickly, sitting back a little so Jason didn’t feel crowded. “But I thought I’d ask, in case you wanted it to be an option. Because I’m very on board, if you are.” He gestured to the erection straining against his underwear.

“No, I—I’m.” Jason paused and swallowed visibly. “I could. I just haven’t, um. Before.”

“That’s okay,” Roy said. “We don’t have to if you don’t—”

“I do,” Jason said hastily. “I mean, I think I—” He stopped again, looking briefly furious, although Roy didn’t think it was at him. “I haven’t been with another guy, before you. So I’m not very...I don’t have much experience.”

Roy blinked. Now that he thought about it, it made sense—Jason’s hesitation whenever he went down on Roy, the shocked look on his face the first time he’d touched Roy’s dick. Of course Jason hadn’t said anything at the start—it would have been too much like admitting weakness. It made something go tight and fizzy in Roy’s chest that he’d been trusted with this information now. That Jason had chosen him to be the first, or at least the first man.

He reached up and brushed a few tangled black and white curls out of Jason’s eyes as he tried to figure out how to say this in a way that wouldn’t make Jason feel even more embarrassed.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t give a shit what you’ve done or haven’t done with anyone else. All I care about is that we do things that feel good for both of us. If it’s something I’ve done before and you haven’t—fuck, do you know how hot the idea of getting to show it to you is? And if it’s something new to both of us, we’ll figure it out together.”

That got him stared at for so long that Roy was starting to worry he’d fucked everything up before Jason said “Okay” in a slightly hoarse voice.

“Okay?” Roy repeated dumbly.

“Okay,” Jason said. “Show me how to fuck you.”

“Jesus,” Roy breathed, and Jason’s eyebrows knotted together.

“Is that—did you mean—”

“Yes,” Roy said, bending forward to kiss him again. “I meant either way you wanted it but holy shit, Jay, yes, I want you inside me.”

“Oh god,” Jason said into Roy’s mouth, his fingers digging into Roy’s thighs. “What should I—how do I—?”

“You have lube?”

“Nightstand drawer.”

Roy climbed off of him and crawled toward the nightstand to grab it, shucking off his underwear as he went. He turned around to see Jason staring at his ass, his face very red, and had to fight to swallow back disastrous comments like “You’re so fucking adorable” and “Thank you for picking me.”

Instead, he flopped onto his back, legs spread, and flicked the lube open. “I need to be wet, and kind of stretched and relaxed, so we start with one finger and work our way up. You want to do it or should I?”

Jason stared at him. “Uh…”

Roy let his smile go a little darker. “You want me to show you?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

Jason settled on his knees between Roy’s spread thighs, giving Roy all the sharp focus of a Bat on a mission. Roy shivered and squirted lube onto his fingers, tracing the rim of his hole a couple times before pushing the tip of his finger in.

“Just...just like that,” he said, sliding his finger to the last knuckle and then back out slowly. “Until I’m relaxed. Then you add another finger.”

Jason put his hands on Roy’s knees, spreading them open another couple of inches. “Does it feel good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Roy said, but what felt good was Jason’s gaze on him, fixed and hot, his strong hands holding Roy open. What felt good was that intense focus, even as some strange unfamiliar part of Roy went shy and uncertain under those changeable eyes. “Yeah, it feels good.”

Jason watched him finger himself for what was probably only a few seconds but felt like long enough that Roy thought he might burst into flames if it continued. He couldn’t help his little dismayed hitch of breath when Jason let go of his knee, but it was just to grab the lube.

“Can I…?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, yes,” Roy said, his words tripping over each other in their haste to get out. “I want you to.”

“Fuck,” Jason said, fumbling, dripping lube on the sheets. He reached down and Roy spread his legs wider.

“With mine,” he said. “Like I’m doing it.”

Jason nodded, biting his lip, and then his finger was pushing in alongside Roy’s. It probably wasn’t any thicker than one of Roy’s, but fuck, it felt big, stretching Roy around both of them and pulling an eager gasp from his throat.

Jason’s eyes were wide, huge, heartbreaking. “Shit, Roy, you’re so...fuck, how is this even going to work?”

“It will,” Roy assured him. “I can take it. I want it.” He watched Jason shudder, slipped his own finger out and pushed up against Jason’s hand. “Give me two. Just like that.”

“God, Roy…” Jason breathed, but he obeyed, working Roy open slowly and careful.

“Curl your fingers up and forward,” Roy told him, and Jason frowned but followed that order too. Roy shifted, trying to help Jason find the right angle until… “Ah! Fuck, yes, yes, right there, you feel that?”

Jason’s fingers stroked against Roy’s prostate, curious. “Right here?”

“Yeah. That’s—oh fuck—that’s the prostate. You wanna—oh god, I could come just from that, I swear.”

Jason’s eyes went even wider and he pressed a little harder, but Roy shook his head, reached down and grabbed his wrist. “No,” he said. “No, I want you all the way in me when I come. Give me a third finger.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me,” Jason said, but he added more lube and a third finger, easing back into Roy so gently that it was hard to believe this man was the terror of the Bowery.

He dropped his head back onto the sheets, breathing through the stretch of it. “Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good inside me, Jay, I know you will. So thick and hard. Gonna fuck me so good.”

“Roy,” Jason said. He sounded a little strangled, and when Roy looked back down, Jason had a hand around his own dick, tight at the base like he was trying to fight back some control.

“Okay,” Roy said. “It’s good enough, I’m ready.”

He got Jason to slick himself up and then settled back again. “Okay, go ahead.”

Jason shifted forward and then paused. “Are you—I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, just go slow,” Roy said. “Or—hang on, wait. Lie down.”

He sat up, gently pushing Jason to lie flat on his back, and then crouched above him, reaching back to guide Jason in. The stunned look on Jason’s face when the head of his dick slipped inside was something worth remembering.

“Roy,” he breathed, hips twitching up.

“I know, baby,” Roy said, one hand on Jason’s stomach to hold him down. “Just...just let me…”

He eased himself down slowly. The stretch as Jason filled him was immensely satisfying, the hard throb of him inside and the way his hands clutched helplessly at the sheets, like he wanted to yank Roy down but was holding back. Roy kind of wished he would, even though he knew that was a stupid thought that he would have regretted the second he suggested it. But fuck, having Jason inside him made him want to be stupid.

He took a moment to just breathe once Jason was fully inside him. It had been a while and nothing about Jason was small, but fuck if Roy didn’t love the burn.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked, his brows knit together, his mouth so red.

Roy nodded a little frantically. “Yeah, it’s good, it’s—I just need a second to adjust. You’re so good, Jay.” He shifted up a little, just an inch or so, then sank back down again. “Fuck, you’re big.”

“Roy,” Jason said, his hands coming down to touch Roy’s knees, his thighs. “What should I—can I—?”

“Yeah,” Roy said, rocking a little deeper, taking more of Jason’s length each time. “Come on, move with me.”

Jason rolled his hips up, carefully at first. Roy gasped, his head dropping back, and he reached back to plant his hands on the bed behind him so he could get better leverage.

“Oh fuck,” Jason said, rocking up harder. Roy groaned as the new angle made each thrust hit his prostate. “Fuck, Roy, you’re so…”

“Yeah, Jay, just like that,” Roy coaxed, trying to move faster even though his thighs were starting to burn. His dick slapped against his stomach with every bounce, smearing precome below his navel. He tried to memorize the sight of Jason for future lonely nights: his parted lips panting curses, the flush spreading over his chest, the way his abs clenched with every thrust upwards. He wished he could see where Jason was in him. Maybe he could talk him into putting a mirror in here.

He tried to reach for his dick and nearly lost his balance. “Wait, hang on, stop.”

Jason froze like a deer in headlights. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, shh, baby, you’re so good,” Roy assured him, lifting up off of him and sprawling out face up beside him. “C’mere.” He tugged on Jason’s arm until Jason got to his knees and settled between Roy’s legs again. “Can you fuck me like this? Give it to me hard?”

“Oh god,” Jason choked, but he shifted until he could slide back in, filling Roy again, setting a careful rhythm, cradled by his hips. “Fuck, Roy, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” Roy had a feeling he was smiling like an idiot but he couldn’t give one tenth of a shit about that, not when he was feeling Jason so hard inside him and looking up at the awed expression on his face. He reached up and pulled Jason down into a messy kiss. “Tell me.”

“Fuck, I can’t—” Jason pressed his face into Roy’s neck. “God.”

“Not ready for dirty talk?” Roy asked, tangling his fingers in Jason’s hair and holding him close. “I’ll do it, then. Fuck, Jay, baby, your cock feels incredible inside me, so thick and hard. Can you go a little faster? A little harder?”

Jason let out a hitching breath against his neck and obeyed, driving into Roy at a pace that wasn’t going to last either of them very long, but right now it was all Roy wanted. “Fuck, yeah, just like that, fuck me just like that, baby…”

He tugged on Jason’s hair, pulling him up for another hectic kiss. Jason groaned into his mouth, breathless and uncoordinated. Roy slipped his free hand between them and wrapped it around his dick, but he’d barely started stroking himself when Jason let out another choked gasp and came, spilling hot inside Roy.

“Oh fuck,” Roy breathed, clenching up around him, feeling him tremble through the aftershocks. “Fuck, baby, that’s so hot.”

Jason just panted against his cheek for a minute before pushing up to give him a mortified look. “You didn’t come. Shit, shit, Roy…”

“Hey. Hey.” Roy gave him a firm kiss. “First of all, I enjoyed every second of that, and second, there’s no reason I can’t come now.”

He reached down again, but Jason grabbed his hand. “No,” he said, and there was a little growl in his voice that went straight to Roy’s dick. “I’m gonna do it.”

He eased out and scooted down the bed until he could get his mouth on Roy’s cock. Roy groaned as Jason went down on him, sloppy and uncoordinated but enthusiastic as hell.

“Fuck, so good, love your mouth,” Roy panted. He was still on a knife’s edge from the feeling of Jason coming inside him, and it didn’t take long before he was babbling out a warning and coming across Jason’s tongue.

When Jason sat back on his heels, he looked downright smug, and Roy laughed and reached for him. “Come here,” he said, before remembering that this was a business arrangement and they didn’t cuddle.

But Jason sprawled on his side next to Roy, not quite touching but close enough that they could, and that was pretty good too.

“Are you, uh. Okay?” he asked. “I didn’t hurt you?”

The terror of the Bowery, Roy reminded himself. “I’m fine,” he assured Jason. “I’ve done this before, remember?”

Jason’s brow creased. “With a lot of people?” he asked.

Roy couldn’t help laughing at the shameless rudeness of the question. “I’m a little concerned about what your definition of ‘a lot’ is, but enough to know that there will be no lingering effects worse than walking a little funny for the rest of the day.” He propped himself up on his elbow, grinning. “You want to know if they were bigger than you? Is that where this is going?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “No,” he said.

Roy waited, but Jason didn’t elaborate. Roy reached out and spread a hand over his stomach, feeling the little hitch in his breathing as he did, the warmth of his skin.

“Hey,” he said. “I promise you, I’m having a very good Monday morning.”

Jason looked at him for a long moment. Then he sat up.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m starving.”

Notes:

Listen, I know every chapter so far has been entirely porn, but blame Roy for that, not me.

Chapter 4

They’d been living in the new apartment for a little over a month when Lian finally met Jason.

Roy hadn’t planned it. He wasn’t sure how to explain who Jason was. “Daddy’s friend” was usually a good catch-all, but they weren’t friends, exactly. It shouldn’t feel like a lie, but it did, and he didn’t lie to his daughter. And he had a feeling Jason didn’t particularly want to be introduced as “Uncle Dick’s brother.”

Not that he thought Jason wanted to be introduced at all. Jason didn’t pretend Lian didn’t exist—he asked polite questions about her while they ate, about how she was settling into the apartment and her new school, and never seemed to mind when Roy couldn’t help sharing a cute story about her.

But he’d never asked to see the apartment, or meet Lian, or be any part of Roy’s life other than a sexual one. Which was fine, really. Roy could compartmentalize too.

None of that, however, could prevent people who lived in the same building from eventually running into each other in the elevator.

It was Sunday, and Roy and Lian were heading out to run their morning errands. Lian stood on her tiptoes to push the button to call the elevator, and proudly called out the light-up numbers above the door as they counted down to the elevator’s arrival. Roy wasn’t sure whether he or Jason was more thrown when the elevator doors finally opened to reveal Jason, bundled up in a red scarf with a wool beanie pulled down over his curls.

“Oh,” he said, blinking at Roy. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Roy said.

Lian looked between them, a tiny furrow in her brow. “Daddy?”

“Oh, uh…” Roy put one hand up to block the elevator doors from closing and the other on Lian’s back to gently nudge her into the elevator before following. “This is Daddy’s friend Jason. He lives upstairs from us.”

“Hi,” Jason said, this time to Lian. “Uh. You must be Lian.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “You’re tall.”

“Oh,” Jason said. “Uh, yeah, I guess I am.”

“We live on one-four,” Lian said, holding up one finger on her left hand and four on her right. “Fourteen. What floor do you live on?”

“Thirty-six.”

Lian turned to scrutinize the elevator buttons and then back to Jason with an awed look on her face. “That’s the biggest one!”

Jason gave a startled laugh. “Yeah, I live on the top floor.”

“Because you’re so tall,” she concluded sagely. She slipped her hand into Roy’s. “Daddy’s tall too, but not as tall as you. But he’s taller than Grandpa Ollie and Uncle Connor and Aunt Dinah and Aunt Mia.”

“We’re working on numbers and relative sizes,” Roy explained to Jason.

“We’re going to the farm!” Lian announced. Jason looked confused, which, fair enough.

“The farmer’s market, bug. Not a farm,” Roy corrected gently. “Remember, we talked about this? It’s like a store but outside. No animals.”

“But donuts, right?” she asked, fixing him with a gimlet eye. “You said donuts.”

Roy laughed. “Yes, apple cider donuts, and you can have one when we get there.”

Lian turned back to Jason. “Do you want to get donuts with us?”

Jason looked startled again. “Oh, uh, I don’t know if your dad would want me to...uh, that is…”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Roy said before he could shut his stupid mouth. “We’re just headed to the market on Robinson Ave, do you know it? There’s not a lot of produce this time of year, but I’m hoping the apples will be better than the ones at the grocery store.”

“But only one donut,” Lian said sternly.

“Uh...sure,” Jason said, and now it was Roy’s turn to be startled. “I like donuts.”

“Do you?” Roy asked, letting his mouth curve slightly. “Should I keep that in mind for next week?”

Jason’s cheeks went a little pink, and he shot a sidelong glance at Roy. “I think you have a pretty good idea of how to handle any cravings I might have.”

And just like that, Roy was stewing with dumbfounded lust in the elevator. Damn. Jason was far too quick of a learner.

It was brisk out but sunny, which was a relief after an overcast week. The farmer’s market was a bit of a hike, so Roy scooped Lian onto his shoulders after a couple blocks to give her little feet a break. It was strange to be outside with Jason, and during the day—not to mention clothed—but not in a bad way. Not when the cold air kept that pink in his cheeks and brought out a snap of blue in his eyes.

“Do you guys do this a lot?” Jason asked as they walked.

“Not here. We used to go occasionally when we lived in Brooklyn,” Roy said. “There’s a huge one near where I used to live in Star City, though. Ollie and I used to go every week when he first discovered organic food and the eat local movement. It took him ages to admit he didn’t actually like kale.”

Jason’s answering smile seemed a little distracted. “You and Gr—uh, Ollie. You two are good? I feel like I remember you not really talking back when we first met.”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Roy said. “He...I don’t know if you heard that he died? Couple years after you, um.” After Jason had. “And when he came back, it just sort of…” He shrugged, careful not to dislodge Lian from his shoulders. “I’d been so angry at him before I lost him. And maybe I was right to be, and maybe I wasn’t, but once he was gone, I would have given anything in the world to have him back. So when he was back, none of the rest of it seemed important, you know?”

“Sounds nice,” Jason said, his tone clipped.

Roy winced. “Listen, I know it’s probably none of my business—”

“It’s not.”

“—but Dick is actually glad you’re back. You know that, right?”

Jason audibly scoffed, but Lian perked up at the mention of a familiar name and saved Roy from putting his foot any further into his mouth. “Uncle Dick?”

Jason’s eyebrows went up. “Uncle Dick?”

Roy shrugged apologetically. “She’s known him basically her whole life.” He patted Lian’s foot. “Yeah, Uncle Dick, bug. Jason had to go away for a while and Uncle Dick missed him a whole lot.”

Lian was silent for a minute, evidently thinking that over. “That’s sad,” she finally concluded. “I’m happy you’re back too, Jason.”

Jason looked a little shaken by that, enough that Roy sort of wanted to reach over and squeeze his arm. Had no one told him they were glad he was back before he heard it from a five-year-old he’d never met before?

You aren’t dating, Roy reminded himself. You aren’t even friends, not really.

He kept his hands to himself.

By the time they reached the market and he was filling his reusable shopping bags with apples and carrots and potatoes, he’d managed to change the subject. “You know, Uncle Jason helped us get our nice new apartment,” he said. “What do you say?”

Uncle? Jason mouthed at him, and Roy winced again and shrugged. Maybe talking about “Uncle Dick” had done it, but it had just slipped out.

“Thank you, Uncle Jason!” Lian chirruped obediently.

“You’re welcome,” Jason said. “Do you like living there?”

“Yeah!” she said. “But it’s too big.”

Ah, the painful honesty of children. “Too big?” Jason asked, looking at Roy.

“She means we don’t really have enough stuff to fill it up,” Roy explained hastily. “It’s not the apartment’s fault. The apartment’s great!”

“Relax, Roy,” Jason said wryly. “I think we’re far enough away that you’re not gonna hurt its feelings.”

“It’s just, you know, the main bedroom is sized for a king and I only have a full. We don’t have a ten-person dining set. That kind of thing,” Roy continued. “Which is fine, since we’re, you know. The DC plan. But our furniture does look a little silly in the space right now.”

Jason nodded, looking thoughtful. Roy cringed.

“It really is a great apartment,” he said.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jason said, and then suddenly seemed to become very interested in examining some turnips that happened to be in exactly the opposite direction. Roy could still hear him, though, when he added quietly, “It’s nice having you nearby.”

And despite the cold of the morning, Roy suddenly felt awfully warm.

*

The new bed showed up the next day.

“But I didn’t order a bed,” Roy protested when the security guard at the front desk called him to tell him that there were deliverymen downstairs. It was afternoon, and he was trying to get a couple loads of laundry in before he had to pick Lian up from school. He didn’t have time to deal with a furniture mix-up.

“Name on the order says Roy Harper, and this is the address,” the delivery guy insisted.

Roy sighed. “Hang on, I’m coming down.”

When he reached the lobby, he was taken aback by the fact that there were four delivery men, not to mention the sheer size of the bed components they were carrying. “See? Right here,” the apparent spokesman said, pointing to an order form. “One king-size bed for Roy Harper—that’s you, right? And this is your address?”

But Roy wasn’t looking at any of that. He was looking at the section of the form with payment info. Specifically, the name of the buyer.

“Excuse me, I just need to check something,” he said, and pulled out his phone.

did u buy me a bed??? he texted Jason.

You said yours was too small. Is the wood okay? I can exchange it if not.

Roy scrubbed a hand over his face. This was...not what he had expected from that conversation, and he’d have to discuss this with Jason, but that wouldn’t solve the immediate problem of the four delivery guys and enormous disassembled bed frame in his lobby.

He sighed. “Sorry about that,” he told the delivery men. “A little communication mishap. Um...I’ll show you where the freight elevator is, I guess?”

Roy barely had time to yank the sheets off of his old bed before the delivery guys were moving it out of his bedroom. At a pace that would have probably even impressed Wally, they put the new bedframe together, brought up a brand-new box spring and pillowtop mattress, and disassembled the old frame.

“Maybe you should just, uh, leave that here?” Roy asked, pointing to the old bed. They could kind of shove everything to the side in the living room—it wasn’t like there wasn’t space. And he probably wouldn’t have enough room in DC for a king.

“Instructions say to bring the old bed to your storage unit,” the spokesdelivery guy said.

Roy blinked. “I don’t have a storage unit.”

The spokesguy strugged. “Look, I just do what they tell me, okay?”

Okay, so apparently Jason had a storage unit, or possibly he’d even rented one in Roy’s name. Roy added it to the list of questions for later.

The delivery guys were barely out the door when a new one showed up, this time with two large cardboard boxes that turned out to contain a down comforter, four down pillows, and three sets of five hundred thread count sheets in mulberry silk, which was so egregious Roy could practically hear Ollie yelling at him from the other side of the country. “Jason, man, come on,” he muttered as he signed to acknowledge the delivery.

“What’s that?” the delivery guy asked.

“Nothing.”

By the time all that was handled, he had to leave to pick up Lian from school, so the conversation with Jason had to wait until the next morning. Roy put a bag of donuts on Jason’s counter and raised an eyebrow at him. “You bought me a bed.”

“Did they set it up okay?” Jason asked, peeking into the bag of donuts. “Is that blueberry?”

“Jason,” Roy tried again. “You bought me a bed. And a mattress, and silk sheets, and I don’t know what else.”

Jason looked up at him, those down-tilted eyes wide and earnest. “Do you like them? I went with neutral colors, but did you want something brighter? I can get more—”

Roy’s chest tightened. It was weird, no question. They’d set out the terms of their arrangement pretty clearly, and they hadn’t included anything about furniture or bedding when they did. Although to be fair, they also hadn’t negotiated Roy buying breakfast for Jason, which he did just about every morning. Not that a few bagels or donuts came anywhere near the cost of what Jason had spent, but…

But Jason looked so worried that Roy might not like his gift.

Roy reached out and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Jason’s pajama pants, pulling him closer.

“The sheets are great,” he said, brushing his lips against Jason’s jaw, his throat, avoiding the pale scar that cut across it. “The bed is great. But I think you should show me yours again, just so I can compare the two.”

Jason pulled back to grin at him, and Roy let himself accept that he had a new bed now. What difference did it make in the end, really?

*

Lian’s new bed showed up the next day.

“Bed” was an inadequate word for it. It was essentially bunk beds shaped like a castle, with turrets that served as bookshelves and curving staircases on either side leading up to the top bunk. At least it came with cotton sheets and not tiny silk ones.

Roy couldn’t bring himself to tell them to take it away, even once he saw how extra the whole thing was. After all, he’d accepted a fancy new bed for himself from Jason—how much of a shit would he be if he didn’t let his five-year-old daughter do the same? And when he saw the look of stunned delight on her face once he’d brought her home from school, he was glad he’d kept it.

Lian spent the whole evening drawing Jason an elaborate and incomprehensible crayon masterpiece to thank him for it. Jason’s expression when Roy delivered it to him the next morning was worth a much greater blow to Roy’s pride than the tiny hit he had actually taken.

But the massive sectional couch the next day was a little much.

And the new dining set the day after that.

And the stunning walnut bookshelves that Roy didn’t have anywhere near enough books to fill.

And the endless, endless stream of toys.

Within two weeks, Jason had practically redecorated their entire department, and Lian had clearly begun to expect that there would be a new gift waiting for her every time she returned home from school. Roy decided to dig up some of the courage he was supposed to have as an alleged superhero and have the hard conversation with Jason.

He was, however, cowardly enough to wait until he’d made Jason come twice, one in his mouth and once in his ass while Roy held onto the headboard and screamed himself hoarse. They lay, sweaty and spent and exhausted, in Jason’s bed, and Roy let a sneaky hand creep across the mattress until he could spread his palm across Jason’s warm, flat stomach.

“Jaybird,” he said, very softly. “You gotta stop buying me and Lian things.”

Jason’s stomach went tense under his hand. “What?”

Roy’s thumb stroked back and forth, soothing. He tried to catch Jason’s eye. “It’s too much, Jay. It’s not...we had a deal. The apartment in exchange for sex.” It felt sour on his tongue, saying it out loud, but he made himself do it. It was the truth and they both knew it. “This is...so much more than that.”

“What’s the point of an apartment that isn’t comfortable?” Jason asked, which was rich for a guy whose own home was spartan enough to be actively depressing. “I’m not asking for anything else from you, Roy—”

“But that’s the problem,” Roy pressed, pushing up on his elbow so that it would be harder for Jason to avoid his eyes. “This isn’t a fair exchange. Fooling around with you isn’t exactly a hardship, you know.” He let his eyes skim briefly over the glorious sprawl of Jason’s body, all that muscle and power and passion. “You get to have sex with me as part of the deal...but I also get to have sex with you. But what do you get out of spending so much money on me and Lian? I feel like all I’m doing is taking from you.”

Jason’s face went through a series of complicated expressions Roy couldn’t decipher. “That’s not how it feels to me,” he said finally. “I—do you know where my money comes from?”

That wasn’t the answer Roy had been expecting. “I’d assumed Bruce…?” he said hesitantly, although the moment it was out of his mouth he realized it didn’t really make any sense at all. Jason had even said something about the penthouse not being paid for with Bruce’s money, ages ago.

“Ha,” Jason said, entirely without humor. “No. Most of it is from the League of Assassins. The rest is from the criminal enterprises under Red Hood’s territory. Shrewdly invested, of course.”

“I…” Roy started, and then stopped, since he didn’t actually know what to say in response to that.

“It’s blood money, either way,” Jason said. “I take it from the tops of the criminal organizations and not their victims. I redirect a lot of it to charities. It’s the only money I’ve ever had that’s mine, and I’m trying not to...but it’s still blood money. So what’s so wrong with doing something good with it?”

“Nothing,” Roy said. He wanted to brush the curls off of Jason’s forehead. He wanted to soothe the furrows away with his lips. He didn’t. “I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate it. I’m so grateful. I am. But Lian doesn’t need a new toy every day, and it’s not good for her to get one. She’s gonna end up spoiled.”

“Yeah, well, it can’t be as bad for her as going hungry half the time and getting knocked around every time my dad wanted to take his shitty-ass life out on someone else,” Jason muttered.

“Jaybird…” Roy said softly.

Jason scowled, like he’d given away more than he’d intended. “Maybe I want to spoil her,” he said. He finally met Roy’s gaze, his own eyes big and gray and dark. The turned-down shape of them made Roy’s chest ache. “Maybe I want to spoil you both.”

“You know what Lian really likes?” Roy asked before he could catch himself. “The aquarium.”

Jason blinked. “What?”

“She’s super into penguins,” Roy said. “So you could buy her a stuffed penguin—or hell, the way you overcompensate, a real one.” Jason scowled again. “Or you could take us to the aquarium. Isn’t Gotham supposed to have a really good one?”

“You want me to take you to the aquarium?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t want Lian to have endless piles of stuff,” Roy said. “The necessities, yeah, of course. I always want her to be well-fed and warm and safe. But she doesn’t need any more things, at least not until she outgrows all her clothes in—” He pretended to check a watch he wasn’t wearing. “Five minutes. She needs happy memories and, I don’t know, educational outings.” He tried a smile. “She keeps asking when we’re gonna see Uncle Jason again anyway.”

Jason still looked baffled. “How much could aquarium tickets possibly cost? You don’t need my help for that.”

“Yeah, and I could have bought a bigger couch if I moved some stuff around in my budget,” Roy said. “I could have bought all the stuff you got us. Maybe not the super-luxe versions you splashed out for, but yeah. Things are a little tight right now, but I can buy a couch. I can buy a bed. I can’t buy you. You want to spoil me? Give me the thing I can’t get anywhere else.”

Jason stared at him for so long Roy felt his face and neck start to heat up. Shit, it had been too much, he’d made it weird, and now this would be over…

And then Jason pounced, sending Roy sprawling onto his back, his hands on Roy’s shoulders and his broad thighs pinning Roy’s hips down. He caught Roy up in a bruising kiss, and all Roy could do was arch up and hang on.

“I’ll take you to the fucking aquarium,” Jason growled. “Whatever you want. But I thought of something else I could do to spoil you first.”

He slid down Roy’s body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Roy’s stomach as he went, and Roy tangled his fingers in Jason’s hair. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly, hips twitching up as if he hadn’t been fucked within an inch of his life ten minutes ago. “Sounds good.”

He felt Jason’s teeth nip at his inner thigh, sharp. “Still gonna buy you things sometimes, though,” he grumbled before his mouth found Roy’s dick, and any thought of continuing to argue went flying straight out of Roy’s head.

*

Jason took them to the aquarium.

He took them to the zoo, too, even though it was cold enough that their breath was visible and a lot of the animals had been brought to indoor enclosures where visitors couldn’t see them. He took them to a massive antique carousel in one of Gotham’s bigger parks that Roy frankly couldn’t believe one of Gotham’s creepy supervillains hadn’t yet turned into a doomsday device, and he took them to an old lighthouse on the coast that had been turned into a quaintly educational tourist attraction for kids, and he even took them to the circus, which Roy quietly vowed never to tell Dick about.

The only outing that was particularly expensive was the Gotham Ballet’s performance of Cinderella, and the enraptured look on Lian’s face was more than enough to keep Roy from kicking over the cost. Not that he probably would have either way. He’d asked for this, after all.

He felt better, with this new arrangement. Less like he was taking advantage of Jason and more like—well, more like this was something else he could do for Jason, even if Jason was the one paying. Roy wasn’t sure that Jason had done anything with his time before the Harpers came along but brood and fight and bleed. Maybe Jason could stew over his grudges and the terrible unfairness of his life while an alpaca at the zoo ate pellets out of his hand, but Roy didn’t think so.

Lian adored Jason, which was both good and bad. Good, of course, because Roy wouldn’t have had the two of them spend time together if she didn’t enjoy it. Bad because they were still planning to move to DC in a few months, and Jason would end up as yet another person she was attached to but living far away from.

Or maybe Roy was just worrying about himself.

Because he and Jason were spending more and more time together. Not just on weekend outings with Lian and not just bed, but on the streets. Roy wasn’t back in the vigilante game full time—he couldn’t be, not until he had a system for more consistent evening childcare for Lian in place—but he’d been doing this since he was twelve and it wasn’t so easily shaken. When the itch got too bad, he called the babysitter and suited up to go out with Jason.

The truth was, he wished he could get out there more. Not just because he enjoyed it, although he did, but because he had a feeling Jason was more reckless when he wasn’t around. Or at least, the nights he wasn’t with Jason, he found worse injuries on Jason’s body in the morning. Jason never let Roy coddle him, never seemed to care what he was doing to himself, but Roy couldn’t help wondering if one of the nights he wasn’t there would be one of the nights Jason let himself get killed. Again.

And god, the sex when they got back from a night of fighting side by side was fucking incredible.

Roy was still catching his breath after one of those nights when he finally raised a subject he’d been wondering about. He knew he had to get back downstairs to Lian and the babysitter soon, but he’d somehow tricked Jason into collapsing on top of him, his head pillowed on Roy’s shoulder and his arms around Roy’s middle, and he didn’t want to slip out from under Jason’s comforting weight just yet.

“Hey,” he said, as his fingers drew lazy patterns on Jason’s back. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm,” Jason said, sounding half-asleep.

“You never kill when I’m in the field with you.”

Jason went tense in Roy’s arms. Dammit. “Not really a question.”

“Why?”

Jason looked up at him, frowning, his chin digging into Roy’s chest. “That was the deal,” he said. “When we broke up the dogfighting ring. You said you were in if I didn’t kill.”

“I didn’t realize I was making that deal indefinitely,” Roy said.

Jason shrugged a little. “I figured the same rules would apply every time, so why keep renegotiating it? Why? Do you want me to kill when I’m with you?”

If he’d expected Roy to recoil in shock, he’d be disappointed. “Not particularly,” Roy said. “I guess I just wondered why you bothered. I would have thought Batman’s opinion would matter more to you than mine.”

“Why?”

Roy blinked at him. Why would the opinion of the man who had saved Jason, trained him, adopted him, and loved him mean more to Jason than the guy he was having casual sex with? “Because...he’s your father?” he tried, hoping that Jason’s rule about not killing when he was with Roy included not killing Roy himself.

“He is not my father,” Jason snapped, pulling away. Roy’s arms tightened reflexively around him before letting go, and Jason rolled into his back so that they were no longer touching. “I mean, you and Green Arrow are all Father Knows Best, but you said you’ve killed. What if he got on your ass about that?”

“He doesn’t know,” Roy said, and Jason gave a bitter laugh. “But I think he would understand. He’s killed too.”

Jason turned his head to look at Roy. “Bruce know about this?”

Roy shrugged. “Probably.”

“Unfuckingbelievable,” Jason said. “So every Justice Leaguer and goddamn Teen Titan is out there killing and Bruce doesn’t give a shit, but when it’s me…”

“I don’t think Superman has,” Roy ventured. “But. I mean. It’s like I said before. Bruce isn’t responsible for Ollie. He’s responsible for you.”

“No he fucking well isn’t—”

“Tell him that, not me,” Roy said. “And it’s not that I don’t—look, I kind of get where Bruce is coming from, okay? I do?”

Jason sat up, curling away from Roy. “Really.”

“No, not like—would you listen?” Roy asked, sitting up too. “I told you. I’ve killed. I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t…” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I think I threw up after each one. I told you Ollie doesn’t know, but Dinah—Black Canary—she sure as hell does, because she’s the one who was on the phone with me when I couldn’t stop crying. But I did it, because it was that or let my fellow agents die, and I chose which of the two I could handle being on my conscience. I’d make the same choice now.”

Jason didn’t say anything, but he was listening. Roy kept going.

“I wasn’t with Ollie any of the times he’s killed, but I know that at least once, it was because some fucking psycho was torturing Dinah,” he said. “I would have put an arrow in the bastard’s chest, too. And Dinah—she’s killed to save Ollie. It doesn’t sit easy with either of them. It nearly destroyed Ollie, which is why he doesn’t need to know about me. It would only hurt him. I know he never wanted me to have to make that decision.”

He shrugged. “But sometimes we have to, right? Doing what we do…I wish Bruce was right. I wish we lived in a world where we could stop the bad guys without ever making it permanent. Where we never had to make a hard choice in the heat of the moment. And quite frankly, where some people didn’t fucking deserve it. But I also know that the weapon I carry is a deadly one, and I can’t afford to be too naive to know what that means.”

It was too dark to get a good look at Jason’s expression, but his shoulders seemed to have come down from around his ears.

“Some people deserve it,” he said, like Roy was going to start arguing with him for repeating something Roy had just said. “Some people...the things they do are unforgivable. To people who can’t defend themselves. To kids.”

“Yeah,” Roy said, because, well, he agreed.

“And if we don’t stop them, they’ll do it again,” Jason said. “Rapists don’t just rape once. Child traffickers don’t see the light. That’s what Bruce never understood.” He shook his head. “I don’t kill because I think it’s fun. I kill because sometimes when there are no right answers, you have to pick the least wrong one. It’s not about me. It’s about the people who would be hurt if I didn’t.”

He looked back up at Roy, and the neon coming through the window from the Gotham skyline glittered in his eyes. “But I don’t cry about it, either,” he said. “If that makes me a bad person, I’m the one who has to live with it.”

And Roy knew he shouldn’t, knew that this was crossing an unspoken line, but he leaned over and kissed Jason, very softly.

It was the first time they’d kissed that wasn’t sexual. From the way his heart pounded in his ears, Roy knew it had to be the last.

“Come here,” he said, and tugged Jason back down until they were lying like they’d been before, Jason curled up against him.

“Don’t you have to get back downstairs and send the babysitter home?” Jason asked.

“In a minute,” Roy said, and they lay together in silence.

Notes:

Superman has definitely killed in at least post-Crisis canon. Nobody tell Jason.

Chapter 5

They were coming up on three months when Jason gave Roy keys to get up to the penthouse level and into his apartment, and programmed his data into the retinal scanner outside his door. Roy had had to hide a bitter laugh at the irony. So many failed relationships behind him, and the first person to give him his own set of keys was the guy who was paying him for sex.

It did make him wonder if Jason had the keys to his apartment. If he did, Roy didn’t have to worry about him using them without permission. Jason seemed to view Roy’s apartment as sacrosanct and never went anywhere near it. Even when he took Roy and Lian on weekend outings, he met them in the lobby, as if by keeping himself out of Lian’s home and vice versa, he could help Roy compartmentalize.

Roy didn’t bother telling him that that ship had long since sailed. Besides, a Bat could get in anywhere they wanted, so whether or not Jason had keys hardly mattered.

He let himself into Jason’s apartment one morning to find Jason prowling like a caged tiger, in sweatpants and a worn red hoodie half-zipped up. His curls were matted down like he’d only just taken the helmet off, instead of the riotous bedhead Roy was used to, and his body language practically vibrated with tense, nervous energy.

“Jaybird? You okay?” Roy asked, putting breakfast down on the counter. It had barely left his hands before Jason was crowding him against the fridge for a kiss that was sharp with teeth.

“Hey, hi, good morning,” Roy said, cupping Jason’s face to push him away a little and frowning when Jason hissed with pain. There was a nasty scrape on his jaw, and when Roy looked at his thumb, he saw granules of dried blood on it.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, taking in the darker-than-usual shadows under Jason’s eyes, the stiff way he was moving, the faint smell of dried sweat. “Did you sleep at all?”

Jason shook his head. “Got home around dawn. Had to patch myself up. Then there wasn’t a point in going to bed.”

Dawn was late this time of year, far later than a normal patrol should run. “Patch yourself up? Let me see.”

Jason grinned. “You getting me naked is the whole point, Harper.”

Roy rolled his eyes, but followed Jason to the bedroom and watched him strip out of his clothes with far less self-consciousness than he had when they started this. Less self-consciousness but more pained stiffness, which was explained when Roy saw the mottled bruising on his torso and arms, and the red, inflamed diagonal slice across his ribs, held closed with a row of messy stitches.

“What happened?” Roy asked again, moving in closer to look at the wound.

“Just a bad night,” Jason said, shrugging and then wincing when it pulled on his ribs. “The other side had a lot of guys. One of them brought a knife to a gunfight and got lucky. I’m fine.” He looked away. “Batman was there.”

Roy felt himself go very cold and still. “Bruce saw you get stabbed and he let you walk away to take care of it by yourself?”

Now it was Jason’s turn to roll his eyes. “I didn’t get stabbed. It was the side of the blade; it didn’t go in. Besides, Bruce doesn’t care if I get hurt. Trust me.”

Roy softened. “Jason…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Jason said, terse and clipped. “Can you just fucking—”

He kissed Roy again, hot and angry, and this time Roy let him—let Jason pull him close and tug on his hair and bite at his lip, kept his own touches gentle and let Jason burn off his pain the way he apparently needed to.

“I want you to fuck me,” Jason panted against Roy’s mouth.

“‘S what I’m here for,” Roy agreed amiably, leaning in for another kiss. He could suck Jason slow and sweet, give him the kind of orgasm that would put him right to sleep…

Jason put a hand on Roy’s chest to stop him. “No, I mean...I want you to fuck me.”

Roy stared at him. Jason had fucked Roy plenty of times by now, but he’d never asked Roy to fuck him. Roy had assumed he wasn’t interested. Roy was interested, very much so, but…

“Now?” he asked incredulously. “You’re still actively bleeding and you want to get fucked for the first time? Do you also have a head injury that you didn’t tell me about?”

Jason scoffed and looked away. “Look, if you don’t want to…”

“Of course I want to, have you seen your ass?” Roy said. “I just don’t want to hurt you worse.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jason said. He was curling into himself again, angry and defensive. “I’m not delicate. I just...I just want to fucking…”

Maybe it was the blend of exhaustion and pain and adrenaline he was clearly running on that made him say it. Roy didn’t know. All he knew was that Jason scowled at the floor and muttered, “I just want to feel something good,” and Roy was lost.

He reached out and grabbed Jason’s jaw again, gently but firmly forcing Jason to look at him. “Two rules,” he said. “First: you need stitches again, you call me.”

“You were asleep—”

“You fucking call me, Jay. I don’t give a shit what time it is. I’m not letting you do that again when I can do it for you.” Roy waited until Jason nodded, a short jerk of his chin against Roy’s hand. “Good. Second: we’re taking this slow, and if you pop your stitches we’re stopping and I’m putting you straight to bed. Got it?”

That slow, dangerous smile spread over Jason’s face again. “Kind of hot when you get all bossy like this, you know.”

“Yeah, well, when those stitches are out I’ll put you over my knee and spank you all you like, but not until then,” Roy retorted, and was rewarded with Jason’s widened eyes and a flash of color in his cheeks. He kissed him briefly, then let him go. “Lie down.”

While Jason obeyed, Roy stripped out of his own clothing, conscious of the heated way Jason was watching him. He snagged the lube from where they’d shamelessly left it out on the nightstand, and settled between Jason’s legs. Normally he would have tried a bit more romancing first, but he wanted to get Jason fucked, fed, and fast asleep as soon as possible. Besides, Jason was already half-hard, which sent a shivery jolt of pleasure to Roy’s own cock by way of his ego.

“This might feel a little weird until you get used to it,” he said, warming the lube between his fingers.

“I—” Jason started to say, then bit his lip. Roy raised his eyebrows and waited, and finally Jason continued. “I know. I tried it.”

Roy had to close his eyes for a second at the thought of Jason alone, slipping a curious finger or two into himself. “Yeah?” he asked, proud that his voice shook only slightly.

“Yeah. I’ve been.” Jason licked his lips. “I’ve been thinking about this.”

Roy spread Jason with his left thumb and stroked two slick fingers of his right hand over his hole, breath catching at the way Jason jumped. “About me?”

“Who else would I be thinking about?” Jason snapped, his cheeks very red now. Roy shouldn’t have been so happy with that answer.

“Did you like it?” he pushed, teasing the tip of one finger just inside. “Fingering yourself. Did it feel good?”

Jason glared at him. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

Roy smiled and applied more pressure, letting his finger slide in up to the second knuckle. “Yeah? Not right now, I bet.”

“Jesus.” But Jason didn’t argue, just shut his eyes and let Roy work him open, hips moving in marginal thrusts against his finger. Roy bit his lip and tried not to focus on, well, anything: the way Jason’s abs clenched rhythmically, the decadent shape of his parted lips, how tight and hot he felt around Roy’s finger. He didn’t want to draw this out, but he didn’t need things over that quickly either.

Jason let out a choked, startled noise when Roy stroked two fingers over his prostate. “Fuck!” he gasped. “I...fuck, Roy.”

Roy grinned. “Yeah? That feel good, baby?”

“I...I don’t…” Jason stammered, eyes wide, his cheeks blotchy with heat. “Roy, please.”

“Shhh, I got you. I’m gonna take care of you,” Roy promised, withdrawing his fingers and fumbling for the lube again. “You ready?”

“Been ready,” Jason managed with a bit of his usual fire, but he still looked a little nervous.

Roy leaned forward, close enough that the only way Jason could avoid his eyes was by closing his own. “Hey,” he said. “You tell me the second something doesn’t feel good, the second you want to stop…”

Jason shut him up by kissing him. “I know. Now fuck me already, dumbass.”

Roy burst out laughing. “You’re a hell of a romantic, Jaybird,” he said, settling back between those gloriously spread thighs.

“Well, you made me stop buying you things,” Jason muttered.

Roy looked up at that, but he was already pushing inside, and he forgot what Jason had been saying in the feeling of that tight heat enveloping the head of his cock. Jason’s mouth dropped open again, his lower lip red and wet and full. “Roy…”

“Fuck.” Roy took a breath, eased out slightly and then back in another inch. Jason breathed shakily through it but didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t have any expression on his face but overwhelmed astonishment, and so Roy kept going—so slowly, so carefully, always watching Jason’s face for any sign of pain—until he was fully seated. “Baby.”

“Roy,” Jason said again, reaching down. Roy caught his hand.

“You okay?” he asked.

Jason nodded. “Yeah, it’s...it’s just a lot.” Roy waggled his eyebrows and Jason let out an adorably unattractive snort. “Shut up.”

“No, no, go on, tell me more about how big my dick feels inside you,” Roy teased, and Jason rolled his eyes so hard his whole head tipped back—but he was smiling.

“Weren’t you supposed to be doing something down there?” he asked.

“Oh, that.” Roy shifted, giving a shallow roll of his hips, and Jason’s breath caught. “Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep going.” Jason pushed up, winced and brought a hand to his ribs.

“Hey, easy,” Roy said, and rolled his hips again. “You just relax, baby. I’ll do all the work.”

“You have the worst lines,” Jason said, but he relaxed against the pillows, and, marginally, around Roy’s dick.

“You love ‘em.” Roy thrust deeper this time, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in. Jason sprawled, trusting and content. “Fuck, Jay, you look incredible like this.” Jason rolled his eyes again. “You do. You’re always fucking gorgeous, but right now...god.”

Jason frowned at him. “Why are you so far away?”

Roy was sitting back on his heels, not wanting to put his weight on Jason’s injured ribs, but he leaned forward at that, relishing Jason’s startled moan as their angle shifted, and braced himself on his elbows so that he could fuck into Jason without crushing him while remaining in kissing range. “Better?”

Jason hauled him in for a breathless, messy kiss. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Now stop dicking around and give it to me for real.”

“You have a hole in your side, you absolute maniac,” Roy said, punctuating his words with long, slow thrusts. “You want me to fuck you the way you fuck me, is that it? You know how much I love it when you pound me until I can’t walk and you want some of that?”

“Christ,” Jason said, clutching at him.

“Too fucking bad,” Roy said. “I told you we’re taking this slow.” He grinned. “But if you want me to fuck you stupid when you’re all healed up, I think that could be arranged.”

“You absolute bastard,” Jason said, pulling him closer, and then it was all wet heat and kisses and the torturously sweet slide into Jason’s body, over and over again as Jason gasped and shivered and arched against him. Roy slipped a hand between them and found Jason hard as a rock and dripping wet for him; he groaned into Jason’s mouth and thrust a tiny bit faster.

“Roy,” Jason sobbed as Roy kissed and bit at his neck, the unscarred side that was safe to touch. “Roy, fuck, I can’t—” and then he was coming in Roy’s hand, tightening around him, and it was only a few thrusts later that Roy followed him helplessly over the edge.

After a long, shaky moment, Roy pulled back, his shoulders stiff from holding himself up. Jason was still flushed but his eyelids were drooping, his sleepless night clearly catching up with him. Roy brushed a thumb across his hot cheek and kissed his forehead before easing out carefully, then padded barefoot and naked into the bathroom for a washcloth.

“Oof,” Jason managed as Roy cleaned him up. “Give me a minute. What did you bring for breakfast?”

“Yeah, no,” Roy said as the word “breakfast” was lost in a yawn. It made him want to curl up against Jason and pull the covers over them both, but he had things to do, and besides, this wasn’t his bed. “Sleep. I’ll put your breakfast in the fridge, it’ll be perfectly good a few hours from now.”

Jason’s brow furrowed sleepily. “I can—”

“Nope.” Roy tugged the covers up and over Jason’s body, stroked the curls off his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest, baby.”

He bit his tongue. He only called Jason “baby” when they were ma—when they were fucking. They were supposed to be compartmentalizing.

But Jason just burrowed deeper into the blankets, his eyes already closed, so Roy got dressed, took his portion of the breakfast he’d brought, and left Jason’s apartment, locking the door behind him.

*

It was during a different breakfast later that week that Dick called. Roy winced at his phone when the contact name popped up. He’d been dodging Dick’s calls since...well, since he’d accepted Jason’s offer, and he couldn’t keep doing it.

“Sorry,” he said to Jason, showing him the screen. “I gotta take this.” Jason’s expression went flat as Roy swiped to answer. “Hey, Robbie.”

“Oh, so you are alive.”

Roy cringed again. “Sorry. It’s just been crazy lately, with Lian and trying to get things sorted in DC…” Jason’s face went even more sour, presumably because he knew Roy had only heard from DC once in the past few months. Although why Jason would care if Roy told Dick a little white lie, Roy wasn’t sure.

“Well, I have a way you can make it up to me.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

He could picture Dick’s smile by the sound of his voice, the sharp one he used when Nightwing had just gotten an edge over some particularly stupid criminals. “It’s just a party.”

“What do you mean, a par—oh. Oh no.” Roy started shaking his head as if Dick could see it. Jason’s eyebrows went up.

“You don’t even know what it is!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, I do, because you’re being cagey as fuck,” Roy said. “I had enough of these stupid dog and pony shows when I was a kid and couldn’t stop Ollie from dressing me up. I shouldn’t have to go to them as an adult.”

“Well, I do,” Dick said. “It’s a benefit for the Wayne Foundation. For orphans, Roy. Like us.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“It’s the biggest philanthropic event of the season, and Bruce has gone on and on publicly about how much the cause means to him,” Dick went on. “Yes, it’ll be incredibly boring, but it will also look incredibly bad if all of his kids aren’t there. Bruce is making Tim and Damian play nice with each other and everything.”

“Well, one of his kids won’t be there,” Roy snapped before he could help himself.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

Roy didn’t let himself look at Jason. He didn’t want to see whatever was on his face right now. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing. If you’ve got all the little birdies—”

“And Cass.”

“—all the little birdies and Cass, what do you need me for?”

“Are you kidding?” Dick asked. “I miss you. You’re twenty minutes away and I haven’t seen you since we broke the Outsiders up. Come on, be my plus one? You can catch me up on how Lian’s doing and save me from making small talk with social climbers who think my background makes me ‘fascinatingly sordid.’”

“Someone did not say that to your face.”

“Three someones, at different times.”

Roy sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ugh. Okay. Fine. But you’re paying for the babysitter.”

“Deal,” and this smile was audible too. “It’s on Friday. I’ll text you the details. Thanks, Roy!”

Roy hung up and finally looked at Jason, whose expression was as shuttered as if he were wearing the helmet. “Got some fun plans with Grayson?” Jason asked.

“Wayne Foundation event,” Roy said. He felt oddly like he was cheating on Jason right in front of him, which was stupid—he and Dick were just friends, and he and Jason were just...something else. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was invited to something under the Wayne umbrella and Jason might never be again. “He needs me to save him from dying of boredom. I’m sure you remember.”

“I used to hide in the library,” Jason said. “None of those people would ever have found me there. They didn’t think I could read.” He raised his eyebrows again. “So Dick can pay for stuff, huh?”

“What do you—oh, the babysitter,” Roy said. “That’s not...come on, that’s not the same thing. And I’m doing him a favor. It’s not like I asked him to buy me...shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t have anything to wear. Shit!” Roy had been forced to attend enough of these as a teenager to be aware of the black tie dress code. If he had a formal suit that still fit, it was probably in storage on the other side of the country. He eyed Jason, who was bigger than him, but anything he borrowed from Dick would show three inches of ankle. “You got something I can borrow?”

Jason snorted. “No. I’ll buy you a suit.”

“Jason…”

“It’s not as expensive as a couch,” Jason pointed out. “And you’re doing me a favor, too.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Am I.”

“Yep.” Jason stood up and circled the kitchen island to pluck the phone from Roy’s hand, dropping it on the counter. “Because you might be spending the evening shaking hands with Bruce’s rich friends and keeping the golden boy entertained, but you’re gonna do it in the suit I bought you. And when you’re done, you’re gonna come up here and let me take it off you.” He leaned into Roy’s space on the last sentence, reaching down to give him a gentle squeeze through the boxer briefs that were the only thing Roy had bothered to put on once they’d gotten out of bed.

“How the fuck am I supposed to make nice with the mayor now?” Roy complained, even as his hands found Jason’s hips. “I’m gonna have a boner the whole time I’m wearing this stupid suit.”

Jason’s grin was sharp and predatory as leaned in, sharper than Dick’s ever was. “Good.”

*

Roy didn’t have a boner the whole time he wore the suit, though he did chub up a little when it arrived from the bespoke tailor, a shivery whisper of silk and wool beneath his fingertips, and again when he put it on on Friday night. He made it through making small talk with Bruce and various socialites, exchanging friendly hellos with Tim and Cass, attempting to exchange a friendly hello with the new and very unpleasant little Robin, and then spending the rest of the evening in a corner with Dick, nursing a single glass of champagne and laughing over stupid shit they’d done when they were fourteen and didn’t have a choice about showing up to things like this.

“So, spill,” Dick had said finally. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Dick gave him an unimpressed look. “There are at least a dozen beautiful women close to our age here, and you haven’t made an excuse to go flirt with any of them, which means you’re seeing someone. Who is she?”

“Maybe I just don’t want to abandon you when I’m supposed to be keeping you company,” Roy argued. Dick’s look became even less impressed. “Okay, yes, fine. But you’re the one counting, so I don’t know why you’re acting like you’re any better than me. Or why you’re assuming gender, for that matter.”

“Sorry,” Dick said. “Who is he, then? Or they?”

Roy could have kicked himself. Why not let Dick think he was seeing a woman Dick didn’t know? At least that would’ve put him on the wrong trail.

Not that Roy was seeing Jason, exactly. Not the way Dick meant.

“It’s not anything serious,” he said, instead of your brother is paying me to methodically eliminate every aspect of his virginity.

“Oh no,” Dick said.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just, every time you say it’s not serious, you’re about thirty seconds away from falling in love with the worst possible person for you,” Dick said.

Roy frowned. “Hey, fuck you.”

“I didn’t mean—Roy, I didn’t mean it like that,” Dick protested. “Hey. If you’re happy, I’m happy, okay? Are you happy?”

Roy thought about his apartment, about Lian in her princess bed and their view of the Gotham skyline while they ate dinner. He thought about Jason’s grumpy scowl in the morning and the way he flushed when Roy touched him. He thought about going home to him when this was over—and then had to quickly stop thinking about that or risk ruining the line of his pants.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m happy.”

*

He made his excuses when the party started to wind down, got in his car and texted on my way to Jason before he even turned the engine on. There was no response, which could mean that Jason was still out on patrol, but Roy had a key. He could wait.

But when he let himself into the penthouse, Jason was watching TV on the couch in a rare moment of relaxation, the lights flickering over his face. Roy had just come from a mansion full of beautiful people in black tie, but Jason in faded sweats beat them hollow.

He dropped his keys on the counter. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”

Jason just looked at him for a long moment, pinning Roy in place with the weight of his gaze; then he unfolded himself from the couch with that liquid grace that kept catching Roy off guard. Roy held still, letting him get a good look at the suit.

It was worth looking at: slim-cut and sharp, in a royal blue wool that brought out his eyes over a crisp white shirt that by itself probably cost more than any piece of clothing Roy owned. The jacket was lined in a cheekily floral brocade with splashes of crimson buried among the blue, and a matching pocket square was tucked in at his breast. There was no tie and he’d left a couple buttons undone; somehow his bare throat made him feel more exposed as Jason approached than all the wandering around naked he’d done in this apartment.

“Look at you,” Jason finally said. He was still moving, circling Roy like some great cat on the prowl. He ran his hands across the shoulders of the jacket, down the front of it, the way the tailor had when he’d fitted it—but the way the tailor had touched Roy hadn’t made his cock go heavy and interested.

“Pleased with your investment?” Roy asked, trying and failing to keep his voice light.

“Very.” Jason’s fingers touched the bare skin of Roy’s throat briefly; then he circled behind him. Roy’s shoulders tensed. “Did you have a good time with Dickie?”

“As good a time as can be had at a Wayne Foundation event,” Roy said.

“Yeah?” Now Jason’s fingers raked upwards through the back of Roy’s hair, where the buzz cut was growing into something almost long enough to pull. Roy’s skin prickled. “And did he tell you how good you looked?”

“Uh, he must have forgotten to mention it.”

Jason made a low scoffing sound that shivered down Roy’s spine. “He’s an idiot.”

Roy frowned, trying to concentrate on something other than his cock and Jason’s touch long enough to puzzle this out. Jason—Jason couldn’t be jealous, could he? “You know Dick and I aren’t...we were never...we’re just friends. We’ve always been just friends.”

Jason paused, his hand still in Roy’s hair. “Really?” he asked. “Not once?”

Roy shrugged. “I mean, sure, I had a bit of a crush on him when I was like fifteen and had a crush on everyone. But yeah. Just friends.”

“Mm,” Jason said noncommittally. He stepped in closer, pressed up against Roy’s back, his hands sliding down Roy’s torso to cup him through his pants. “Know who I had a crush on when I was fifteen?”

Roy’s mind scattered into a thousand pieces at Jason’s touch, and it took him a minute to gather them back and try to puzzle out an answer to the question. “I don’t...wait. Really?”

Jason’s teeth grazed his earlobe, his breath hot on Roy’s skin. “You were so hot. You look even better now, though.” His hands deftly undid Roy’s fly, one of them slipping inside to curl around him, the other pressing flat against his belly and holding him in place.

“Fuck...Jay…” Roy breathed.

“Are you this hard just from wearing the clothes I got you?” Jason asked, pulling him free from his boxer briefs and stroking him slowly. “Maybe you should only wear what I dress you in from now on. Would you do that?” His teeth were sharper against Roy’s ear this time.

Roy tipped his head back against Jason’s shoulder. “God.”

“I think I’d like that,” Jason said. “Seeing you looking this good, knowing that I’m the one who got to dress you. I’m the one who gets to touch you.” His hand tightened around Roy’s cock. “Should we stick with formalwear, do you think, or are there other sartorial avenues to explore?”

Roy gave a shaky laugh. “If this is your way of asking if I’ll put on panties for you, Jaybird, you can just ask. No need to dance around it.”

Jason went tense against his back. “Fuck,” he said, and now he sounded just as shaky as Roy. “Would you?”

Roy pressed back against him, feeling how hard Jason was through his sweats and Roy’s suit pants. “You buy ‘em, I’ll model ‘em. Just make sure to get them in my color.”

“Jesus,” Jason said. His hand resumed its stroking. “You make me crazy, you know that? I think about you all day. Everything I want to do to you.”

Roy groaned, rocking against Jason’s fist as it grew slick with precome. “The feeling is…hh...definitely mutual.”

Jason’s fingers went tight again, just this side of painful. “Careful,” he murmured. Roy could hear his smile. “Don’t ruin the suit.”

Roy pushed back, trying to get him to move. “Keep that up and I won’t have a choice.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to exhibit some self-control.” Jason’s hand resumed its steady stroking. Roy bit the inside of his cheek, hard.

“God, I ruined you,” he said, as if talking would distract him. Anything to keep him from coming in the most expensive pants he’d ever owned, standing halfway between Jason’s kitchen and living room. “You were such a sweet little virginal thing when we started this and now look at you.”

Jason’s other hand pinched his nipple through his shirt, hard. “I wasn’t a virgin,” he protested. “Or sweet.”

Roy dropped his head back again and panted. “Sure you were,” he said. “Told you once before. Sweet as Robin. Sweet three months ago. And now…”

Jason’s hand went a little faster and Roy had to bite his cheek again, hard enough that he tasted copper. Jason must have been able to tell how close he was, because his voice when he spoke was amused. “And now?”

“Fuck, Jay, I’m gonna—” Roy squeezed his eyes shut.

And Jason let go, leaving Roy suspended on a breathless precipice, aching with the simultaneous need for release and how hard he was fighting against it. He bit back a sob.

“Now you’re a fucking bastard,” he managed, and Jason laughed out loud and kissed the back of his neck.

“And to think,” he said as his fingers brushed Roy’s throbbing dick again, “you only just got here. We’ve still got all night.”

Roy swore.

Later, when the suit had been removed before it could be ruined, but the couch might be in need of some steam cleaning, Roy lay sprawled on Jason’s chest, staring at the digital clock on the cable box and calculating how much longer he could stay before he was officially being an asshole to his babysitter. Jason’s fingers in his hair made it a lot harder to do the math.

“It was Talia,” Jason said abruptly.

Roy frowned and shifted so that he could look up at Jason, his chin resting on Jason’s chest. “Mm?”

“I said I wasn’t a virgin before you, and I wasn’t,” Jason said. “But. I’d only.” He scowled at the ceiling. “It was just once. And it was Talia.”

Roy blinked, and then levered himself up so that he could look at Jason properly. “Talia...like, Talia al Ghul?”

Jason nodded.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter? Aren’t she and Bruce...isn’t she the new Robin’s mom?”

“Damian,” Jason said. “Yeah.”

Roy wasn’t often struck speechless, but he had no idea what to offer in response to this piece of information. Sure, he and Ollie had both slept with Grace, but that had been determinedly casual on everyone’s part. No one had had a child as a result. No one had been a virgin. No one had been…

“How old were you?” he asked, and wondered if he should be dreading the answer.

“Eighteen. I think,” Jason said. “Definitely eighteen if you count from my birth certificate. I don’t know how old my...I don’t know how long I was dead for, exactly.”

Another comment to which there was no response—and why had Roy never asked? Jason had gone into his grave a child and walked back into Gotham a man, and Roy had accepted this startling gift without question, had never really wondered about the time in between. Sure, people in their world came back to life sometimes—look at Ollie, and Donna, and Superman—but that didn’t mean it was normal.

But Jason had been something distant and belonging to Dick, and then he had been something that forbade any questions, and then—

And then maybe Roy was having too much fun with this delicate thing they’d wrought to risk setting foot in what might be forbidden territory.

But Jason was talking, and Roy bit his lip and listened.

“I don’t really remember any of it,” Jason said. “I know I woke up and I...I had to dig.” Roy winced. “And then...it’s a blank. Talia said she found me because someone recognized me, the way I fought. I was living on the streets at the time. I could fight, but I wasn’t...I don’t remember...I wasn’t me again until she pushed me in the Lazarus Pit.”

“Shit,” Roy breathed. Dinah had been in a Lazarus Pit once. She’d told him a little bit about it. He never wanted to try it for himself.

“Yeah,” Jason said. “And when I found out Bruce hadn’t...that the Joker was still...well. It doesn’t matter.”

“What? That’s bullshit,” Roy said, getting angry despite himself.

Jason went tense. “I know, okay? I fucked up. You don’t have to—”

“Not that. Not what you did. I—yeah, you fucked up. Tim’s a good kid, and Dick—it broke his heart that you went rogue. But that’s not what I meant,” Roy said. “It matters that that fucker is still alive. It matters that you didn’t get justice, even if you and me and Batman might all disagree about what that means. It matters that when you came back, there wasn’t anyone waiting to bring you home. You’re allowed to let that hurt, Jay.”

Jason stared up at him. In the dim light, it was impossible to make out the expression in or the color of his eyes, but the ever-sad shape of them was perfectly visible. “Roy…” he said, and his voice came out rough.

“Yeah?”

Jason cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he sounded normal. “You should take that suit back downstairs and hang it up properly. Lian’s got school in the morning.”

Roy blinked.

Then he pushed himself to his feet and started looking around for his underwear. Jason was right, after all.

“Yeah,” he said. He didn’t look back at the couch. It would be too easy to stay. “See you tomorrow, Jaybird.”

Chapter 6

Notes:

This is the obligatory sickfic H/C chapter, but please know that it takes place in an AU where there's no COVID and banish that particular illness from your mind, okay? Let's all pretend together.

About a week later, Roy woke up feeling like shit.

Had his alarm always been so loud? Roy shut it off and waited for his skull to stop vibrating. He couldn’t remember waking up in the middle of the night, but he must have, because he was so exhausted it felt like he hadn’t slept at all.

Sniffling, he made his way into the bathroom and recoiled slightly at his reflection. He was always pale, but now he looked half-dead, and he’d had black eyes lighter than the bags under there now.

“Not winning any beauty contests today, Harper,” he rasped at himself, and grabbed his toothbrush.

He was slow getting dressed, slow getting Lian dressed, slow making her breakfast. She frowned at him over her Rice Krispies. “You look weird, Daddy.”

“I just have a little cold, but thanks for that,” he said. “Finish up, we gotta get you to school.”

Despite the chill outside, it was unbearably hot in the car, so hot that Roy checked the vents multiple times to make sure scalding air wasn’t blasting out of them. “Are you warm, bug?” he called toward the backseat.

“No, Daddy, I’m regular,” Lian assured him, even though Roy felt sweaty in just a T-shirt, and when he looked in the rearview mirror he’d gone from pale to flushed.

Everything after dropping Lian off at the door was a bit of a blur. He was supposed to...do something. Get breakfast? He wasn’t really hungry, but he and Jason always had breakfast together…

Jason. That was it. He was supposed to go see Jason, and then things wouldn’t be so blurry.

He drifted in the elevator, propped up against the wall, for so long that the doors closed and the elevator car returned him to the lobby and made him hit the button for the penthouse again. Jason was drinking coffee at the kitchen island when Roy walked in.

“What happened to you?” he asked. “You look like shit.”

Roy shivered. “Why is it freezing in here?”

“Wait.” Jason stood up and put the back of his hand against Roy’s forehead. He was warm, and Roy closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “You’re burning up. Are you sick?”

“It’s just a cold.”

“Cold my ass.” Jason took his hand away and Roy opened his eyes to pout at him. “You have a fever. It’s probably the flu. You should be in bed.”

Roy waggled his eyebrows and gestured in the direction of the bedroom. “After you.”

“Oh my god. Absolutely not, Typhoid Mary,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “Your bed.”

“Oh,” Roy said dully. Jason had never turned him down before.

“Hang on, you look like you’re about to topple over.” Jason grabbed Roy’s arms and steered him to the bar stool he’d been drinking his coffee at. “Sit. Two minutes.”

Jason disappeared into his bedroom. Roy stared blankly at the fridge. There was nothing on it. His fridge was covered in Lian’s drawings, but Jason didn’t have anything, maybe because he didn’t have any magnets to hold it up. Roy should get him some magnets.

“Okay, come on,” Jason said. At some point while Roy was drifting, he’d changed into jeans and, hilariously, a red hoodie. “I’m putting you to bed.”

“You don’t have to,” Roy protested as he stood up and followed Jason to the door. “I can…”

“Shut up,” Jason said, but there was no bite to it.

Walking into his apartment with Jason behind him felt strange, like he was letting a reporter into the Arrowcave back when he and Ollie still had one of those or cared about their secret identities. There was clean laundry piled on the couch waiting to be folded, and Lian’s dirty breakfast dishes in the sink, and the usual toys and crayons and other detritus of a five-year-old strewn about. Roy would have been embarrassed about it, if he’d had the energy.

Jason didn’t act like this was an apartment he’d avoided as stringently as a vampire who hadn’t been invited. “You’re in the main suite?” he asked, putting a hand on Roy’s lower back to steer him down the hall.

“Yeah. I’m not that generous of a father,” Roy croaked.

Jason snorted as they entered the bedroom. “Pants off, and get into bed.”

Roy raised his eyebrows but unbuttoned his fly obediently. “Just my pants?”

“Oh my god.” Jason rolled his eyes and walked back out of the bedroom. Roy frowned, but he didn’t hear the front door, so he shucked off his jeans and crawled back under his rumpled covers.

Just being horizontal again was an enormous relief. His eyelids were already drooping when Jason returned. “You don’t have any tea.”

“I drink coffee.”

“I could tell,” Jason said. “You barely have anything in your kitchen but dino nuggets.”

“Lian likes it when I make them roar,” Roy said sheepishly.

Jason shook his head. “Get some sleep. I’m gonna run out and get you a few things. Can I use your keys?”

Roy frowned. “You don’t have to…”

“Don’t argue, you already sound like you’re losing your voice,” Jason said. He reached down and tugged the covers up higher over Roy’s shoulders, then walked out of the bedroom. A minute later Roy heard the front door close.

He didn’t actually intend to sleep, but he found himself swimming back to wakefulness when Jason walked back into the room holding a steaming mug. “Chamomile okay?” Jason asked as Roy struggled to sit up. “I put honey in it for your throat.”

Roy swallowed. His throat did feel unpleasantly raw. “Thanks,” he said, reaching for the mug.

But Jason handed him a thermometer instead and put the mug on the bedside table. “Temperature first,” he ordered, and Roy sighed and stuck the thermometer under his tongue. “You hungry?” Roy wrinkled his nose. “You should eat something. How about toast?”

Roy considered, then nodded. He could choke down a slice of toast. But what about Jason? “Buh oo diduh geh bwehfweh.”

“No talking. I’ll make myself something, don’t worry.”

Jason walked out again. By the time he returned with a box of tissues, a bottle of NyQuil, and a couple pieces of toast, the thermometer had informed Roy that he had a fever of a hundred and two, and he was slowly sipping his tea.

Jason put the plate in Roy’s lap and glanced at the thermometer. “Yeah, you’re staying in bed today.”

Roy paused when Jason held out a little plastic cup of NyQuil. “Does this have codeine in it?”

Jason’s brow furrowed, then smoothed as he realized why Roy was asking. “Shit, I don’t think so, but hang on.” He picked up the bottle and rattled off the list of ingredients, which quickly started to blur to Roy’s stuffy ears. “No codeine. Is it okay to take?”

“Yeah, I just have to be careful.” Roy downed the little shot, making a face at the taste. “Thanks,” he said, handing it back, and then taking a closer look at the toast. He’d been too congested to notice the telltale smell before, but... “Is this cinnamon toast?”

Jason shrugged, looking away. “My mom used to make it for me when I was sick, before...well,” he said. “Besides, you’ve got that sweet tooth.”

“I didn’t know it was that obvious.”

“Trust me, adding six sugars to your coffee every morning is not subtle,” Jason said wryly. “Finish your tea while it’s still hot.”

“Yes, Mother,” Roy said, grinning when Jason made a face, but he turned his attention back to his breakfast as Jason left the room again.

The cinnamon toast was delicious.

He fell asleep after finishing the tea and most of the toast, and woke with no idea what time it was and still feeling like he’d gone ten rounds with Lobo. His head pounded, his throat was sharp and parched, and his sheets were frankly disgustingly clammy with sweat. Also, he had to pee.

He forced himself up and into the bathroom, then staggered down the hall. The NyQuil was probably in the kitchen, and he could get a glass of water, maybe make another cup of tea if he dredged up the energy from somewhere.

And then he stopped, blinking, because Jason was standing over the stove, skimming something off the surface of a simmering pot.

“Hey, you’re up,” he said when he noticed Roy. “How’re you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” Roy rasped. Jason set the spoon aside and poured a glass of water, and Roy drained nearly all of it before putting it down on the counter. “Thanks,” he said, his voice coming out a little more human. “What are you still doing here?”

Jason gave him a puzzled look. “I told you. You have no food.”

Roy snuffled unattractively. “Was gonna go shopping tomorrow.”

“Well, now you don’t have to.”

Roy shot him a look, then opened the fridge to find it absolutely stuffed with groceries. “Jason…”

“I didn’t know what Lian likes, so I got a bunch of different things,” he said, picking the spoon back up and turning to the pot. “Here, try this.”

And then his hand was under Roy’s chin and it was just instinct to open his mouth and let Jason feed him a spoonful of rich, salty, garlicky chicken broth with little pearls of pasta floating in it. Roy closed his eyes and shivered.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “What brand is that?”

When he opened his eyes, Jason was giving him a look. “Jason Todd brand,” he said. “Well, Alfred Pennyworth brand, technically. It’s his recipe. At least as much of it as I can remember.”

Roy blinked. He felt a little woozy. “You made me soup?”

“You’re sick,” Jason said, like that was an answer. “And you’re about to fall down. Go back to bed.”

“The bed’s gross,” Roy said before he could stop himself. Great, now he was pouting like a child.

“Then go lie down on the couch and I’ll bring you a bowl,” Jason said, giving his hip a little nudge with his hand.

Roy let himself be shooed over to the couch, where he stretched out, back propped up against the arm of the couch. Jason draped a blanket over him before returning with more NyQuil and water. “Medicine first.”

Roy downed the NyQuil, then stared at Jason as he ladled soup into a bowl. Had Roy owned a ladle before? He’d owned spoons, but…

There was something so incongruous as to be ridiculous about Jason standing at his stove making him soup, his hoodie straining at the shoulders as it tried to contain all the raw destructive power of him. There was a bowl of oranges on the counter that hadn’t been there before, Roy noticed, and the dirty dishes that had been in the sink were nowhere in sight. The clean laundry was neatly folded and tucked into the laundry basket.

His tired brain couldn’t make sense of it. Not after five years of folding laundry and washing dishes and cutting up hot dogs and grapes into pieces small enough they couldn’t be choked on. Not after fending for himself since he was seventeen. Even when he was Ollie’s sidekick, he’d always been treated like a partner, like a pal. Ollie had taught him to drive and how to throw a punch and talked to him about girls, probably in more detail than he should’ve.

He’d never made him soup.

Jason turned around holding two bowls of soup and caught him staring. “What’s wrong?”

Why are you doing this? Roy wanted to ask. This doesn’t make sense. This isn’t what you’re paying for.

Instead, he forced a smile. “Just admiring the goods,” he said. “It’s dinner and a show!”

Jason snorted and brought the bowls over to the couch, handing one to Roy before settling in at the other end. Roy tucked his toes under Jason’s thigh and Jason gave him a wry look.

“They’re cold,” Roy said.

“Eat your soup,” Jason said.

Roy ate his soup.

He spent the next few hours on the couch, alternating between dozing and watching mindless TV. Jason kept him topped up on tea, stripped his bed of its sweaty, germy sheets and remade it despite Roy’s protests that he didn’t have to, and generally just...stayed. Stayed, while Roy kept his questions trapped behind his teeth.

At two o’ clock, Roy scrubbed a hand over his face and made a couple of failed attempts at sitting up before he managed to get upright. “Okay, I need to shower. I can’t pick Lian up smelling like fever sweat.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at him. “You can’t pick Lian up at all. You’re a wreck. I’ll get her.”

“You can’t,” Roy said, and then felt irrationally guilty. “I mean...the school won’t let you. When she enrolled I had to give them a list of approved people to pick her up. So Ollie, Dinah, Connor…”

“...who are all in Star City,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Roy said. “But I also picked someone local. Or at least the next city over. So…”

Jason’s face didn’t shutter, exactly, but it went a little more closed off. Roy wondered when he’d started being able to tell. “Dick.”

“That was before…” Before what? Before Roy knew Jason so well? Before Jason had met Lian? Was he ever really going to put his murderous vigilante sugar daddy on the list of approved after school pickups for his kindergartener? “Bludhaven’s only twenty minutes away. If there was an emergency…”

Jason’s jaw was tight, but he nodded, and then pulled out his phone. Before Roy could ask what he was doing, Jason had dialed and switched to speakerphone.

Dick answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Dick,” Jason said.

“Who—Jason?” Dick sounded incredulous. Roy couldn’t blame him. “Why are you—how did you even get this number?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jason said. “Listen, I need a favor.”

Roy winced at Dick’s dry laugh. That never boded well for anyone. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not for me,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “It’s for Roy.”

“Roy? Why are you—what the fuck did you do to him, Jason?”

A few months ago, Roy might not have caught the infinitesimal way Jason winced at that. He leaned forward to speak into the phone. “I’m right here, Dick. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Dick said.

“I’ve just got a cold.”

“You have the flu,” Jason interrupted.

“You don’t know—”

“You have a fever!”

“Anyway,” Roy said. “I’m fine, but I’m sick. Jason’s been taking care of me.”

There was a long silence. “How do you two even know each other?” Dick asked finally.

“Oh, I’m really good friends with Jason’s older brother,” Roy said. Jason scowled at him and Dick made an annoyed noise. “Yikes, okay, fine. Uh. Superhero team-up, okay? How do any of us know anyone?”

“Red Hood is not a superhero,” Dick said sharply.

“Hey—” Roy started to say, frowning, but Jason cut him off.

“Yes, yes, we know, I’ve been a very bad boy and I’m not allowed to come home for Christmas anymore,” Jason said. “Luckily, this doesn’t have jack shit to do with Red Hood. Can you help Roy or not?”

“With what?”

“He’s still got a fever and he’s pretty wobbly. I don’t think he should go out, much less drive. Oh, don’t make that face at me,” Jason added in Roy’s direction. “But Lian needs someone to pick her up from school. You’re on the approved list. I’m not.”

His jaw went tight again at that, and his tone went clipped, like it bothered him. Roy wondered if it was because Dick was approved, or because Jason wasn’t.

There was silence on the other end of the line. “...Roy?” Dick asked finally.

Roy sighed. “You’d really be helping me out, Dick. Can you get over to Gotham? Do you have to work?”

“No, I’m off today,” Dick said. “Text me the address of the school.”

“Will do,” Roy said, relieved. “Thanks. Also, uh...I moved. I’ll send you my new address too.”

“Right,” Dick said. “Jason…”

“Don’t worry, golden boy,” Jason said. “I’m playing nice.”

“Sure,” Dick said, sounding unconvinced. “I’ll see you soon, Roy.”

The line went dead. Roy looked up at Jason, who was clenching his jaw. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Jason asked, his voice sharp. He stood up. “I’ll head out.”

“Why?”

Jason turned back to him with a shrug that was far too casual to be real. “Oh, you know. Don’t want to offend Dickie’s delicate sensibilities.”

“That’s too bad. Lian would love to see you,” Roy said. Jason’s brazenly uncaring expression went a little dented, and Roy kept going, picking his words carefully through the fever and the cold medicine. “If you’d rather not see Dick, you don’t have to stay. You’ve already lost your whole day taking care of me. But—look, Dick is my oldest friend, but if he has a problem with you being here, he can work that shit out on his own. Even if he is doing me a favor.”

Jason stared at him. Roy wanted to trace the faint lines on his brow and around his sad eyes, the ones he should have been too young to have.

“Yeah, well,” Jason muttered finally, picking up Roy’s mug. “You need another cup of tea anyway.”

Dick brought Lian home about forty-five minutes later. Jason was the one to open the door, and Roy craned his neck to watch over the back of the couch. He didn’t think things would dissolve into bloodshed with Lian there, but the Bats did love their drama…

“Uncle Jason!” Lian squealed, and flung herself at him, hugging his leg. “How come you’re here? You live all the way upstairs!”

Roy winced as Dick’s eyebrows went up. “You live in this building too?” Dick asked. “Now isn’t that a coincidence.”

“Yep,” Jason said, and nothing else.

“Where’s Daddy?” Lian asked, breaking the awkwardness. “Uncle Dick said he’s sick and that’s why he didn’t pick me up.”

“Oh, so you finally remembered your poor old dad,” Roy croaked from the couch.

“Daddy!” Lian came tearing across the living room and pounced on him. “You look gross!”

“Thank you, my darling child,” Roy said. “Baby, don’t climb on me, I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I got her,” Jason said, scooping Lian up. She shrieked with laughter as he held her upside down for a moment before settling her on his hip. “You want a snack, princess?”

“Yeah! Cookies!”

“Nice try. How about apple slices and peanut butter?”

Dick gave them a hard look as Jason carried Lian into the kitchen, then marched over to the couch. “Roy, what the hell is going on here?” he asked. “Superhero team-up my ass. You live in the same building!”

“The superhero team-up came first,” Roy tried.

“You’ve been hanging out with the fucking Red Hood so much that your daughter calls him ‘Uncle Jason’ and you didn’t even tell me?”

“‘Uncle Jason’ is better than ‘the fucking Red Hood,’” Roy said, a little sharper than he meant to. He lowered his voice but his frown stayed. “He’s still your brother, Dick.”

“He’s a murderer!”

“So am I.”

“No,” Dick said, shaking his head. “No, that is not the same thing and you know it.”

“What I know is that he’s been making me tea and toast and soup since like nine a.m. today, and he’s cutting up apple slices for my kid right now,” Roy said. “You’re so ready to judge him, but how much time have you actually spent with Jason since he came back?”

Dick opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He glanced over his shoulder at Jason, then stared at Roy. “Oh my god. It’s him.”

“Who’s him?” Roy asked, although he had a feeling he knew.

“The person you’re seeing. The one that’s ‘nothing serious.’ It’s Jason,” Dick hissed. “Roy, what the fuck?”

“This isn’t actually your business,” Roy snapped.

“Of course it is!”

“Why?” Roy demanded. “We’re both consenting adults. If it’s because he’s the Red Hood, you’re not actually my keeper. And if it’s because he’s your little brother, you don’t get to be mad at me for this if you’re not going to treat him like your brother. You can’t have it both ways, Dick.”

Dick frowned, but before he could say anything, Jason returned with a fresh mug of tea. “Well?” he asked. “Have I been tried and condemned yet?”

Roy interjected before more bickering broke out. “Look, I’m too sick to deal with this, so here’s how it’s going to work. Dick, stop being outraged. Jason, stop being a pain in the ass. Lian’s gonna notice in a minute and it’ll upset her, so play nice or get out.”

“Uncle Dick!” Lian called from the dining table, her mouth full of apple. “After my snack, you have to come look at my princess bed! It’s so beautiful.”

Roy raised his eyebrows at Dick and Jason. They glanced at each other; then Dick sighed.

“That sounds cool, Lian. I can’t wait to see it,” he said.

Looked like Dick was staying.

*

The rest of the afternoon was...awkward, to say the least.

Thank God for Lian. Though Dick and Jason both occasionally lapsed into passive aggressiveness, it was clear that neither one of them wanted to risk upsetting her with open hostility. Lian, for her part, was clearly thrilled to have two of her favorite uncles as a captive audience as she regaled them with every minute detail of her day in kindergarten, some of which Roy suspected were extremely made up. Either that or a talking elephant really had shown up during recess, which, given how groggy he felt, didn’t seem totally implausible.

“Daddy, we gotta do my homework now,” she said suddenly, changing course in the middle of a sentence.

Dick frowned. “They’re giving kindergarteners homework these days?”

Roy tilted his hand in a “sort of” gesture. “I’m supposed to read her a chapter of something every night. We’re halfway through Trumpet of the Swan.” He swallowed and winced. “This is gonna be fun for my throat.”

“I’ll do it,” Dick and Jason said at the same time, then glared at each other.

“Jesus,” Roy muttered. “Where were you two when she was still in diapers that needed changing? Hey bug, you want two chapters tonight?”

Lian caught on quick. “Yeah!” she said. “Uncle Dick reads me one and Uncle Jason reads me one!”

Neither of them could argue with that. Roy really should’ve been using Lian to get around Dick for years.

Dick made it theatrical, because of course he did, holding the book in one hand while doing front walkovers over the furniture using the other, and giving every character a different ridiculous voice. Lian giggled helplessly the whole way through, and even Roy couldn’t help laughing, but Jason slouched deeper and deeper into his armchair, scowling blackly at the floor.

At least, until Lian climbed into his lap, and his scowl melted into a soft look of surprise. Even Dick faltered for a second, before resuming his boisterous delivery of the story of a voiceless swan looking for love.

Jason didn’t try to match his performance, once Dick handed the book off to him. He’d probably learned when he was still wearing the short pants that there was no point in trying to out-Dick Dick—a lesson Roy was still trying to internalize, some days.

Instead, he let Lian curl up against his chest and ran his finger over the page, showing her the letters than matched his words as he read to her in a low rumble. Roy wasn’t surprised when Lian started yawning, even though it wasn’t her bedtime yet; that voice could have lulled him to sleep any day of the week. It almost had, some mornings, when all he wanted to do was nap in Jason’s bed and wake up to find him still there.

When he could tear his eyes away from Jason, he noticed Dick was leaning against the arm of the couch, half-seated. Dick was staring at Jason too, with the same look on his face he got when he was puzzling out a mystery.

That expression faded but didn’t entirely disappear when Jason finished the chapter and hoisted Lian off his lap. “I should make you Harpers something more nutritionally complete for dinner than dino nuggets.”

“But I love dino nuggets,” Lian protested.

“Yeah? You know what else you’re gonna love?”

“What?”

“Broccoli.”

“Ew, no!”

“Jay, you don’t have to…” Roy tried to protest.

Jason ignored him completely. “Grayson, you staying for dinner?”

Dick blinked, then glanced at Roy, who shrugged. “Uh...yeah, sure.”

“All right. Lian, go make Uncle Dick show you how to walk on your hands while I cook, okay?”

Roy managed to get himself upright long enough to make it to the table and sit through dinner, even if he could only pick at the pasta with chicken and broccoli that Jason had somehow magicked out of his kitchen. He was sure it would have been delicious, if his stuffed-up nose had allowed him to taste anything; Lian certainly cleaned her plate despite the high percentage of green on it.

It might have been because he was sick or because of the cold medicine, or maybe it was just the sheer incongruity of the situation, but this meal felt like peering into another dimension. One where this was normal, where Roy’s oldest friend could just swing by on a weeknight and have dinner with Roy and his daughter and his—

Well.

“This is one of Alfred’s recipes, isn’t it?” Dick asked. Jason stiffened slightly but nodded. “It’s good. I always liked this one.”

Roy wasn’t sure whether he or Jason relaxed more at the tiny olive branch. “I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with him,” Jason admitted. “Wasn’t exactly making a lot of friends at Gotham Academy.”

“Ugh, no, that place was a nightmare,” Dick agreed, laughing, and Jason’s shoulders went down another inch. Roy picked at his food and watched his daughter kick her feet under the table and didn’t think about how he kind of felt like he wanted to cry.

Once dinner was over, Jason ordered Roy back to his freshly made bed, promising to handle cleanup and Lian’s bedtime routine. Roy wanted to argue, but sitting upright for nearly an hour had just about done him in. He went to bed.

Dick followed him into the bedroom. “I gotta head back to Bludhaven. I’ve got the graveyard shift,” he said. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Roy yawned, curling up under the blanket. “Thanks for picking Lian up, Wonder Boy. You’re a lifesaver.”

Dick gave him half of a distracted smile and turned toward the door, but he didn’t leave—just stood there for a minute, his face turned away from Roy. When he looked back, Roy was surprised to see his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

“That’s Jason,” he said.

Roy frowned. “Uh, yeah, I know.”

“No, I mean…” Dick shook his head. “That’s not the Red Hood. That’s not...that’s Jason. That’s the kid who used to tag along after Alfred and loved to read and...that’s my brother. You brought him back.”

Roy shifted under the blankets, uncomfortable. “I didn’t do anything. I just...didn’t treat him like a criminal.”

“No.” Dick swiped at his eyes. “No, you did something.”

“Well, if we’re being accurate, I did a lot of something, but I figured you wouldn’t want details.”

Dick snorted. “Asshole. No.” He looked toward the doorway again. “I just...thank you.”

There was that discomfort again. “He’s clearly the one taking care of me.” More than Dick knew.

Dick turned that detective expression on him. Roy fought the urge to pull the blanket over his head. “Sure,” he said. “‘Nothing serious,’ right? You really are predictable, you know.” He smiled. “Get some rest, Roy. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

A few minutes later, Lian came running in for her good night kiss. “You being good for Uncle Jason?” Roy mumbled, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

She sighed. “He doesn’t know anything about bedtime. I hadda show him where my pajamas were and everything.”

Roy hid a smile. “Hey. He’s trying.”

“I know. It’s okay, I still like him,” Lian assured him. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Night, Daddy! I hope you’re not so gross tomorrow!” she said, and skipped out of the room.

He was almost asleep when Jason came in with more cold medicine and tea. “Okay, you’re clearly going to pass out before you can drink this, but at least take the NyQuil,” Jason said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Roy fought his way upright enough to obey, rinsed the medicinal taste out of his mouth with a sip of tea, and flopped back down. “Ugh.”

“You’re a wreck.” Jason smoothed his hair off of his forehead. “Listen. If you still feel like shit tomorrow, you call me, understand? I know I’m not on the list, but I can still drop Lian off at school, can’t I?”

“Careful,” Roy said. Jason’s hand was still in his hair and it made his eyelids feel heavy and slow. “Gonna start thinking you like me.”

“Perish the thought.”

But Jason didn’t move, just kept stroking Roy’s hair, and Roy let his eyes close all the way, let himself float in a haze of exhaustion and sickness and Jason’s steady touch. He needed to thank Jason before he fell asleep, but there was too much to thank him for, and the words wouldn’t come.

He felt the bed shift, and Jason’s lips soft against his forehead. “Night, baby. Feel better,” Jason murmured before pulling away.

He’d never called Roy that before. Roy wanted to stare at him, but his eyes wouldn’t open, and Jason’s footsteps receded across the room, and then Roy was asleep.

Chapter 7

He was nearly back to normal when Sarge Steel called a few days later.

“Harper,” he grumbled into the phone. He always sounded like he was chomping on a stogie, even though he’d quit smoking years ago. “What’s this I hear about you trying to come back and make yourself my problem again?”

“Well, I was worried about your blood pressure,” Roy said, tucking the phone under his chin so he could keep putting Lian’s clean, folded clothing back in her dresser. “I thought it might be getting dangerously low.”

“That must be why you’ve been asking around about the CBI and Checkmate,” Sarge said. “You want to go work for Amanda Waller instead of me?”

“Maybe I just want to make you two fight over me,” Roy said. It was weirdly hard to keep a jovial tone to his voice, even though his past history with Sarge had always been cheerfully insubordinate at best. “Makes me feel like the prettiest girl at the prom.”

“Quit flirtin’ with me, kid.” There was the sound of paper rustling on the other end of the line. “I hate to admit it, but we could use you back. You’re still the best damn sniper I ever saw. And no, before you start bellyaching, I won’t make you take the kill shots unless you absolutely have to.”

Roy straightened up. “That a job offer, Sarge?”

“It’s me saying I want you back. You know what the red tape’s like down here,” Sarge said. “But you can expect the formal offer to come through in about a month, so I’d start packing if you’ve got a lot of stuff to move.”

“Right,” Roy said. “Uh. Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Try not to bring too much of that superhero idealism with you, would you? You know it gives me heartburn,” Sarge said, and hung up.

Roy put another stack of little t-shirts in the drawer and slid it closed, then took a step back to look at Lian’s room. Did he have a lot of stuff? Not really, not after moving so many times. Just the furniture Jason had bought them, which would never fit in whatever starter apartment they landed in in DC.

Fuck, what was he going to tell Jason?

He kicked himself for the thought immediately after having it. What did Jason care? He’d always known about Roy’s plans to move, and it wasn’t like they’d signed a lease. All they had was a handshake agreement, to be dissolved...well, when exactly this happened. Jason might be mildly disappointed that he wouldn’t be getting a convenient booty call every morning after a month from now, but someone as gorgeous as he was would have no trouble finding someone else to warm his bed. And stay warming his bed, thanks to all the tricks Roy had taught him. He’d done good work here.

He didn’t even have to tell Jason right away. Even once he’d received the offer, it would take a couple of weeks to relocate. It didn’t make sense to start making his goodbyes before anything was set in stone.

Still, his uneasiness didn’t leave him all day.

*

Jason was fidgety and distracted the next morning, barely seeming to notice the breakfast burritos Roy put down on the kitchen island. For a second, Roy thought somehow he’d found out about the CBI job offer, before realizing that made no sense. Well, he supposed Jason could have bugged his apartment—he certainly had both the opportunity and the skills—but Roy trusted him not to. Jason wasn’t Bruce.

“You okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Jason.

“I’m fine,” Jason said. “Are you hungry?”

Roy smiled. “Are you impatient?”

Jason rolled his eyes, but he turned and headed for his bedroom, so Roy figured that answered that.

He followed Jason into his room—and stopped when he saw the flat black box on Jason’s bed, tied with a white satin ribbon. “What’s that?”

“It’s for you,” Jason said. “I know you said not to buy you things, but, uh, it’s pretty. Um. Small.”

All thoughts of the CBI flew out of Roy’s head as he stepped forward and tugged on the end of the ribbon to untie it. It fell open, and he lifted the lid off of the box, already suspecting what he would find.

Sure enough, lying against the gleaming satin lining was a pair of lacy scarlet panties.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and picked them up. They were clearly cut to be worn by someone with a dick, with extra room in the front, although he had a feeling even that wouldn’t be enough once the wearer was hard.

“Is.” Jason hesitated. When Roy looked up at him, he was blushing, his gaze locked on the panties. “Is that...you said you would wear them. If I got them.”

“I did say that,” Roy agreed. They felt cool and silky in his hands, and he couldn’t help imagining how they would feel against his dick.

But…

“I would love to wear these for you, Jaybird,” he said, watching Jason’s face carefully. He didn’t know where this hunch was coming from, but he’d learned to trust his instincts. “Unless you’d rather wear them.”

Jason’s sharp intake of breath was audible even from several feet away. He didn’t say anything, but he kept staring at the panties, his blush darkening.

Roy took a step closer. “Is that it, baby?” he asked, dropping his voice low. “Do you want to be pretty for me?”

This time the noise came from the back of Jason’s throat, and it was tight and urgent before he managed to clamp down on it. Roy drew close enough to touch.

“Anything you want,” he murmured, lips grazing Jason’s ear. “Whatever you want to do. You choose.” He brushed the silky material over Jason’s hand, letting him feel it. “But I think you’d look beautiful.”

Jason stood frozen for a moment. Then his hand clamped down on Roy’s wrist.

“I’ll,” he said, throat working. He took the panties out of Roy’s hand, and Roy’s pulse quickened. “I’ll just. You. Stay.”

He vanished into the en suite bathroom. Roy all but collapsed onto the bed, staring fixedly at the closed bathroom door. He didn’t bother to try to imagine Jason in the panties. Nothing his mind could conjure up would measure up to the real thing.

A few minutes later the door creaked open and Jason stepped out.

Roy got hard so fast it left him dizzy. Jason wore nothing but the panties, and sure enough, they were already straining to contain him. The tiny, delicate scrap of fabric just made him look bigger and more powerful, from his broad shoulders to his scarred, cut torso to his muscled, hairy thighs. But his cheeks were pink, his eyes big and blue and shy above them, and Roy’s hands itched to throw this brick house down on the bed and take him apart.

He managed to control himself. “Fuck,” he said. “Red really is your color.”

“Are they,” Jason said, stopped, and started again. “Do you like them?”

Roy leaned back on his hands and let his legs fall open, so that the tent between them was impossible to miss. “Does it look like I like them?”

Jason nodded faintly. Roy shifted his weight so he could crook a finger at him. “Come here, baby.”

And fuck, the rush of Jason obeying, all the dangerous power of him drawn by the curve of Roy’s finger. He stopped in front of Roy, and Roy sat up straight again so that he could skim his fingers along the waistband of the panties, down the leg openings. He leaned in to kiss the soft skin and dark hair below Jason’s navel, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Beautiful,” Roy assured him, nuzzling his erection through the thin silk. “Turn around for me?”

Again, Jason obeyed, and Roy caught his breath at the sight of Jason’s ass, the full plush curves of it adorned in silk and lace. The panties weren’t a thong but they weren’t full coverage either, and Roy drew his fingers along the lacy borders where they bisected Jason’s muscular cheeks before leaning in to nip at the edge of the exposed skin. Jason let out a strangled noise.

Roy bit the other cheek, for symmetry, and then gently coaxed Jason back around. “Come here,” he said again, pulling Jason down to straddle his lap. Jason’s silk-clad erection butted up against his stomach, and Roy wished for a second that his t-shirt wasn’t in the way—but fuck if it wasn’t hot as hell being fully dressed while Jason was squirming in his lap in nothing but lingerie.

He tugged Jason down into a kiss, then let his hands wander down that broad back to tease at the waistband of the panties again. Jason rocked against him.

“You are the prettiest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire goddamn life,” Roy murmured against his mouth. “It should be illegal to look as good as you do right now. This is hazardous to my fucking health.”

“Roy…” Jason breathed, clutching at the back of Roy’s shirt.

“Do you feel it, baby?” Roy asked, letting his fingers slide lower, digging in. “Do you feel pretty right now?”

Jason somehow went even redder, but he nodded. Roy beamed at him.

“Good,” he said. “Lie down, beautiful. Let me make you feel as good as you look.”

He let go and Jason climbed off of his lap, sprawling out against the expensive sheets like something out of Roy’s least plausible fantasies. Roy started to reach for him, and Jason held up a hand.

“You need to be a lot more naked than that,” he protested. “I want something to look at, too.”

Roy laughed and tugged his shirt off. “Feels like I’m getting the better end of the deal here, but okay,” he said, pushing down his jeans and underwear together.

“Never,” Jason said quietly, his eyes dark and intense, and the word lodged like a splinter in Roy’s heart. He shook it off. Jason didn’t have him up here to be sentimental.

Fully naked now, he straddled Jason’s hips, leaning forward so that his dick rocked against Jason’s, sliding against the silk. “Fuck. Gorgeous boy,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss Jason again, feeling Jason’s strong hands digging into his back. “I can’t wait to see you come in these.”

Jason shuddered beneath him. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I think I’m going to have to take them off at some point if you want to make me come,” he said.

“You need to think outside the box.” Roy pressed a kiss to the scratchy underside of Jason’s unshaven jaw, over the warm column of his throat, working his way down. He was pretty sure he’d kissed or licked or bitten every inch of Jason by now, except for the forbidden scar on his throat; he knew this terrain so well he saw it when he closed his eyes at night. But the more he touched Jason, the better he knew him, the more he wanted him.

Jason let out a ragged sigh when Roy reached his dick, dragging his tongue over the silk before pressing a wet kiss to the leaking head poking out of the waistband. “Okay, I get the idea,” he said, reaching down to rake his fingers through Roy’s hair, which was finally long enough for a good satisfying pull.

“Not yet you don’t,” Roy said, and pushed himself up to his knees so that he could reach past Jason and snag the lube off of the nightstand. Jason’s brow furrowed in slight confusion, but his legs fell open a little wider anyway. Roy’s dick twitched at the sight.

He palmed himself for a second, just to ease the ache, before drizzling lube into his palm. He rubbed it between his fingers to warm it and settled back down between Jason’s legs.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You forgot something.”

“No, I didn’t,” Roy said, and tugged the crotch of the panties to the side so that he could press his slick fingers to Jason’s hole.

“Oh,” Jason said breathlessly, shifting under his touch. “You know this is probably going to wind up wrecking them?”

Roy stroked Jason’s entrance teasingly, loving the way he squirmed. “Mm, probably,” he agreed. “But you’d buy more for me, wouldn’t you, baby?” He let the tip of one finger slip inside. “Where’d you get them, online? What if we pulled up the website and I picked out all the pretty little things I want to see you in?”

It was a stupid suggestion, more dirty talk than an actual plan. Roy was leaving Gotham too soon for it to make sense for Jason to spend a lot of money on lingerie just to please him. Although he supposed there was no reason Jason couldn’t wear it with someone else, though the thought made him queasy.

But the way Jason gasped and arched at his words made it worth it. “Fuck,” he said shakily as Roy’s finger sank in deeper. “Now who’s dressing who?”

“We can pick out pretty things for me too, Jaybird,” Roy said. Bullshit, bullshit, all bullshit, but as long as it was turning Jason on, Roy could pretend. “Anything you want.”

“What I want is for you to stop teasing me,” Jason said, as if how much he liked the idea hadn’t been perfectly evident on his face. He ground down on Roy’s hand, planting a heel on the bed for better leverage. “Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

“No,” Roy said, and Jason blinked at him in surprise. Roy took the opportunity to press a second finger inside, and Jason let out a startled moan. “No, I think you can come just like this, can’t you?”

Jason’s hips twitched upwards, his abs clenching. “I...I don’t know, I’ve never…”

“I know,” Roy said. He’d fucked Jason plenty of times by now—though not enough, never enough—but he’d never tried to get him off on prostate stimulation alone, not when the way Jason fell apart when Roy touched his dick was so beautiful. Maybe Jason couldn’t do it—not everyone could—but Roy was willing to give himself carpal tunnel syndrome in the name of a good cause.

“But you’re always so sensitive when I open you up. I bet you could do it if I played with you long enough, couldn’t you?” Roy went on, kissing Jason’s upturned knee. “For me?”

Jason opened his mouth to answer, and Roy stroked over his prostate, making his words cut off with a moan. “I...fuck, Roy!”

“That’s it,” Roy crooned, working his fingers steadily as Jason arched against him. The panties were hanging on valiantly, struggling against the stretch of both Roy’s fingers and Jason’s cock, which was leaking copiously against his hip. “Just relax and let me take care of you, baby.”

Fuck, but Jason was beautiful like this. Roy found himself trying to memorize the sight of Jason writhing on his fingers, the hushed little cries and broken pleas, the feeling of Jason clenching around him. The smell. He was getting ahead of himself, he knew. He still had a month. He should be enjoying being with Jason, not mourning what he hadn’t lost yet. But he couldn’t stop trying to commit it all to memory.

When Jason’s fingers were white against the sheets and his moans were practically continuous, Roy knew he was close. “Go ahead,” he murmured, nipped at the inside of Jason’s thigh. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Let go, I’ve got you.”

“Roy,” Jason sobbed, his lashes wet with tears. Roy wanted to kiss them away, but he couldn’t reach and he couldn’t stop.

“Come on, baby. Let go,” he coaxed again, fingers working steadily, and Jason’s mouth fell open on a soundless cry as he came. Roy worked him through it, fingers still deep inside him, babbling praise as Jason shuddered through aftershocks that seemed to go on forever.

When Jason finally keened and tried to pull away, Roy let his fingers slip out and reached for his own throbbing dick. Jason looked well and truly wrecked, flushed and sweaty, his eyelids half shut. The panties were a soaked, stretched mess that the best laundry service in the world might not be able to resuscitate. Roy stamped that image on his memory, too.

He pushed up higher onto his knees, hand speeding on his dick. Jason stirred and reached for him. “I can…”

“No, baby, you just relax,” Roy told him, biting his lip. “You’re doing everything you need to for me right now. Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Jason sighed and shifted underneath him. “Can you…”

Roy tried to force himself to slow down, to wait until Jason told him what he needed. He was so close. “What is it?”

Jason rocked his hips up. “Do it on the panties,” he said.

And fuck, fuck, Roy barely had time to shove the head of his cock against the silk before he was coming, thoroughly ruining the panties if they weren’t ruined already. “Jesus, oh fuck, Jason,” he gasped, breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

Jason reached for him again, and this time Roy collapsed against him, heedless of the mess, his cheek pressed to Jason’s sweaty shoulder. Jason’s arms folded limply around him, and they just breathed together, echoing in the quiet bedroom.

Roy shut his eyes tight and tried to pretend he wasn’t walking away in a month.

*

A week later, Jason wasn’t in the kitchen when Roy let himself in.

“Jaybird?” Roy called, locking the door behind him and setting their breakfast on the kitchen island. “Jay? Babe? You still asleep?”

There was no answer. Roy frowned. Maybe Jason had had a late patrol and was still conked out, or maybe he’d had to go out of town and forgotten to tell Roy, but something about the silent apartment made the hair rise on the back of Roy’s neck, and he hadn’t survived a life of superheroing this long without trusting his instincts.

Jason wasn’t in the bedroom and the bed didn’t look like it had been slept in, but his bathroom light was on. “Jason?” Roy called, half wishing he had his bow, and eased far enough into the bedroom that he could see into the bathroom.

Jason was collapsed on the floor, splattered with blood.

“Jason!” Roy hurled himself into the bathroom, dropping to his knees on the bloody tile to feel for a pulse. “Jaybird, come on, don’t do this to me,” he muttered, heart in his throat until he made out a reedy drumbeat under his fingers. “Oh, thank fuck. Baby, come on, wake up.”

He was afraid to move Jason, afraid to exacerbate any head or spinal injuries, but Jason’s lashes fluttered and he stirred, curling into Roy. “Roy?”

“I’m here,” Roy said, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Where are you hurt?”

“Thigh,” Jason said, his eyes finally opening. They were hazy and turquoise today, like the sea. “But I sutured it...and I was going to bed…” He frowned, confusion clear on his face.

Roy finally processed that Jason was wearing just his compression shirt and underwear, his gear scattered in the bedroom. There was a messy line of stitches on his right thigh, and a bloody bullet in the sink. “You got shot?”

“Weapons dealers. They have guns.” There was the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Had guns.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re the scariest vigilante in town. Are you injured anywhere else? Can you stand up?”

It took some doing, but he finally got Jason up off the floor and into bed, where he put a bandage over the still-oozing stitches and checked for other injuries. There wasn’t anything of note besides the bullet wound and the fact that Jason had apparently taken a couple of blows to the head; he insisted that the helmet had protected him, but considering that Roy had found him unconscious on the bathroom floor, he wasn’t convinced that Jason didn’t have a concussion. Though Jason might’ve just collapsed from blood loss. Roy hated both options.

He made Jason stay awake, forcing him to sip juice slowly to bring his blood sugar back up while he cleaned up the blood and some of the grime—first off of Jason, then the bathroom. He kept his conversation light and inane, stupid chatter to keep Jason in the moment, as panic turned to anger below the surface.

When Jason seemed lucid enough for a real conversation, Roy sat down on the side of the bed, facing him. “Feeling better now?” he asked, taking the empty juice glass away. “Juice help?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, looking a little sheepish.

“Good,” Roy replied. “You fucking asshole.”

Jason blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We had a deal.” Roy’s voice was tight, and when he prodded Jason’s chest with an accusatory finger, his hand shook. “You get hurt bad, you need stitches, you’re supposed to call me. I’m right the fuck downstairs!”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Jason grumbled, looking away.

“You were on the fucking floor!” Roy snapped. “What if you’d bled out? Or hit your head on the way down?”

“It was already stitched up. I can take care of myself,” Jason said.

“But you don’t have to! I’m right here—”

“For how long?” Jason snapped, and Roy blanched. Jason didn’t know about the CBI job yet, he couldn’t know, but—“Maybe you’ve always had someone there when you needed them, but we’re not all that fucking lucky, Harper.”

Roy’s jaw went tight. “You know I haven’t.”

Jason looked away again. “Yeah, well,” he said. “The job’s done, I’m not dead, the fucking replacement’s not dead, so all’s well that ends well, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Roy asked, and then realized who the only replacement Jason would care about was, even if the boy in question wasn’t Robin anymore. “Was Tim there?”

Jason’s smile was bitter and insincere. “Apparently I wasn’t the only one working the case.”

“What happened?”

Jason’s expression went hard, and for a minute Roy thought he might refuse to tell him. Then he glowered into his lap and said, “FUBAR from the start. Drake was undercover. I don’t know what he and Bruce were planning, but things started moving faster than I had planned on, and I wasn’t in position when the meet with the buyers started. They made me right away, and, well.” He gestured to his thigh. “That got them spooked, and one of them went for Drake. I guess he figured don’t trust the new guy.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“I thought you listen in on the Bat-channels,” Roy said cautiously. But it was true—Jason was usually tuned in to what the Bats were up to, if only to avoid them.

“They must’ve changed frequencies. Guess they figured out what I was doing,” Jason said.

“So Tim saw you get shot and didn’t help you?” Roy asked, still trying to put the pieces together. He liked Tim, but that wouldn’t stop him from kicking a teenager’s ass if he had to. Verbally, at least.

Jason shrugged. “Eh, I’ve tried to kill him a few times. Might’ve taken another stab at it,” he said, in a voice that suggested he genuinely didn’t know if he would’ve or not. “Anyway he got winged too, on the shoulder. Didn’t look too bad, but.” His face twisted. “Bruce came in. The whole dramatic dropping-through-the-skylight move, with the cape and everything.”

He went silent. Roy waited.

“The rats tried to scatter. I stopped them,” Jason said. “At least, I was stopping them until Bruce chucked a fucking smoke bomb into my face. Then he loaded the replacement into the car and got the fuck out of there.” He reached for the blanket. His hand was shaking, and normally Roy would’ve worried he was going into shock, but he didn’t think that was what this was. “Can I go to fucking sleep now?”

“Jason…”

“What?” Jason snapped. “No, I didn’t fucking call you. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m fine, and I got the bullet out just fine my own damn self, and hey, at least this one was just a smoke bomb when I had my helmet on and not a goddamn Batarang in the neck—”

“What?” Roy asked, startled.

“Oh, did I never tell you?” Jason asked. He was laughing now, a little hysterically, and Roy reassessed his shock diagnosis. Jason pointed to the scar angling down his throat, the one he wouldn’t let Roy touch when every other scar on his body had been kissed a hundred times. “Bruce gave me this. To save the Joker. It’s kind of funny, right?”

Roy went cold. “He what.”

“Stitched that one up myself,” Jason said. The little hiccuping sounds were sounding less and less like laughter. “I always have to do it myself, so what the fuck’s the point of calling? Huh? What’s the goddamn point, Roy?”

“I am not him,” Roy said, reaching for Jason because he had to, just had to touch him. “I would never leave you bleeding, Jaybird, not ever.”

Jason shook his head. “It’s not him,” he said thickly. “It’s not him, it’s me, because if it was him he wouldn’t have saved Tim either, but he did. It’s me, there’s something wrong in me, and I can’t...I’m not...”

“Jason.”

Jason’s face crumpled and Roy clutched at him, pulling him close, like a fucking hug could do anything about the damage Bruce had wrought. Jason pressed his face into Roy’s shoulder.

“Why wasn’t I worth saving?” he asked, the despair in his voice no less audible for being muffled by Roy’s t-shirt. “Why wasn’t I worth breaking the rules for?”

“You are,” Roy told him, rocking him like he rocked Lian when she had a nightmare, holding him so tight it had to be uncomfortable, but Jason didn’t pull away. He kissed Jason’s sweaty curls as tears soaked through his shirt. “You are, you’re worth fucking everything, you are.”

Jason shook his head but didn’t look up. “I don’t want to do it myself anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” Roy promised rashly. “Never, baby. Not while I’m here.”

He held Jason until he cried himself to sleep, and then pulled the covers up over them both and curled around him. He had errands to run, but those could wait until Jason was awake and calmer and fed. Instead he lay there and thought about a teenage boy waiting for his father to come save him, and the moment he realized he wouldn’t. He thought about that same boy stitching up his own throat and flinching away whenever someone tried to be gentle with it. He thought about him digging a bullet out of his own thigh because he was so certain no one would pick up the phone when he called.

He didn’t let himself think about the future.

Notes:

Next week: someone possibly catches a clue? Maybe? No promises with these two bingbongs, though.

Chapter 8

Notes:

CW: This chapter contains human trafficking (including children) and canon-typical violence.

Days passed. They didn’t talk about it.

And then one morning Roy awoke to find the city blanketed in white, wrapped in the soft, peaceful hush that snow always brought. He stood at the ridiculously enormous living room windows for a long moment sipping his coffee and just marveling at it. There’d been no snow where he’d grown up in Arizona, and Star City was lucky to get one or two inches a year. Even Gotham didn’t have snow often, though it got bitterly cold and damp—something about the microclimate caused by the harbor and all the heated machinery running under the city.

But now the gargoyles and grotesques were draped in white, and fat flakes were still tumbling out of the sky, and Roy wasn’t too old yet to find it magical.

Lian’s school was closed because of the snow. He let her sleep in for an extra hour before waking her up to give her the good news. “You want pancakes for breakfast?” he asked.

She bounced on the mattress. “Yes!”

He grinned. Pancakes were one of the few things he could make reliably. He’d have to text Jason and let him know he wasn’t coming up, though…

Or maybe he didn’t. “Hey, bug?” he asked. “How about I call Uncle Jason and see if he wants to come downstairs and have pancakes with us?”

“Does he have a snow day too?” Lian asked, clearly thunderstruck by the coincidence, and Roy laughed and nodded. “Yeah, Daddy, you gotta! You make the best pancakes!”

“Okay. Go brush your teeth and wash your hands.”

Lian went flying out of the room, and Roy followed more slowly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Was this weird? Well, if Jason didn’t want to come, he could always just say no. It wasn’t like the man ever had a problem stating his opinion about anything else.

Jason answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Roy said, not sure if he should be touched by Jason’s concern or worried that Jason automatically assumed a call meant something was wrong. “Just wanted to let you know that Lian’s school is closed on account of the snow, so I’ve got her for the day.”

There was a brief pause. “Oh,” Jason said. “Uh. Thanks for letting me know. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“You could see me today, if you want,” Roy said. Why was he nervous? He was being stupid. This was Jason. “I’m making pancakes. And Lian would love it if you came down and joined us.”

This time the pause was longer, but when Jason spoke, there was a smile in his voice. “Lian would love it, huh?”

“She would,” Roy said, unable to keep from smiling himself. It was true—Lian would love to see him. The fact that Roy would too was irrelevant. “Fair warning, though. I make a damn fine pancake. You might be ruined for everyone else’s after this.”

“Little late for that,” Jason said, and then, before Roy could respond, added, “I’ll be down in ten and I’m bringing the good coffee. Yours is shit” and hung up.

Roy was heating up the griddle when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Lian hollered, racing for the door.

“Don’t open it without checking!” Roy called back, even though he knew it was Jason. He kept an eye on her over his shoulder anyway. It didn’t hurt to reinforce basic safety.

“Oh yeah.” Lian stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Is that Uncle Jason? ‘Cause if it’s not, my daddy will shoot you!”

Roy could hear Jason laughing from his spot at the stove. “It’s me, princess. Can I come in?”

Lian had to stand on tiptoes to unlock the door, but she managed it. “Uncle Jason!”

“Hey, you.” Jason was holding a few things in his left hand, but he managed to scoop her up with his right so she could hug him around the neck. “Snow day, huh? Very cool.”

“Yeah!” she crowed. “Daddy and I are gonna build a snowman and a snow fort and have a snowball fight and make snow angels…”

“That sounds like quite an agenda,” Jason said, walking into the kitchen with Lian on his hip.

“We don’t mess around with our snow days here at Chez Harper.” Roy leaned towards Jason instinctively and then paused. It felt natural to greet him with a kiss in the morning, after months of doing exactly that, but Lian didn’t know about them, and this wasn’t the way to tell her.

Not that he was going to tell her, because “Daddy put out to get you a princess bed” was not a conversation he needed her recounting in therapy in a decade or two.

Jason seemed to be feeling just as uncertain, but he lowered Lian to the floor and brandished the coffee he’d brought. “Want me to make a pot?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Roy said. He was about to inquire about the other thing Jason was carrying when he took in his outfit: a deep red sweater over a white button-down and gray wool slacks. “Did you dress up for us?”

“What? No,” Jason said, but his cheeks went pink, betraying him. He rolled his eyes when Roy grinned wider, and busied himself with the coffeemaker.

God, it was hard not to kiss him. “You’re adorable,” Roy said. “Lian, tell Uncle Jason how handsome he looks and then when he’s done with the coffeemaker, can you show him where we keep everything so he can help you set the table?”

“You’re so handsome, Uncle Jason!” Lian agreed. “Also you have to carry the knives, I’m not allowed.”

“Thanks, princess.” Jason shot a look from under his lashes at Roy, and Roy’s blood ran hot. “And yeah, I can carry the knives for you.”

Roy had assumed that the faint disorientation he’d felt when Jason had spent the day taking his temperature and making him soup had been a result of being sick, but he felt it again when they sat down at the table, Lian on his left and Jason on his right. Lian chattered away while they ate, and Roy watched Jason listen earnestly and felt like he’d stepped into a different life—a softer, better one with significantly less bleeding and dying.

“Uncle Jason’s gonna be on my team for the snowball fight, ‘cause he’s the biggest,” Lian announced around a mouthful of pancake.

Roy glanced at Jason—they hadn’t talked about anything past breakfast. “Sounds like you’ve been drafted.”

Jason smiled and shrugged, as if being roped into the Harper family’s daily activities for a bit longer was no trouble at all. “Well, I’m no saint, but I’m no draft-dodger, either. You’re going down, Harper.”

They headed to a nearby park once Lian was securely bundled up and Jason had changed into something a little less cashmere. The gentle hills of the park were full of families playing in the snow, and Roy felt that disorientation again, the sense of unreality.

He was so distracted by it that he nearly missed Jason bending down to whisper something to Lian, her muffled giggle behind her mittened hands—and then Jason was scooping her up and Roy yelped as she dropped a handful of snow down the back of his collar.

“Playing dirty right from the start, I see,” he said, plucking at the back hem of his shirt and coat with one hand to free the melting snow as he bent to scoop up a fresh handful with the other.

Jason grinned. “Just playing to win.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just see about that,” Roy said, lobbing his loose snowball gently into Lian’s shoulder. She shrieked with delight and Jason put her down so that they could both retaliate.

Despite Jason’s boast, there was no winner, not with Lian changing sides at the drop of a hat and both Roy and Jason willingly aiding and abetting her sudden betrayals. But they played hard, until their cheeks and noses were red and tingling with cold and their clothes were crusted with snow, until Roy’s throat hurt from laughing in the dry air. He watched Jason go into a deliberate controlled fall when Lian tackled him around the knees, watched her chuck a handful of loose snow into his face while he spluttered and pretended to fight back, and he gave up lying to himself.

He was in love with Jason. He had been for a long time.

Maybe he’d known when he held a weeping Jason in his arms and felt like his own heart was breaking. Maybe he’d known when Jason had taken care of him like no one had since before Roy could remember. Maybe it had been as early as when he’d gone a whole weekend without Jason and only seeing him again had settled the loneliness that was always rattling around in his ribcage. Roy was precisely stupid enough to fall that fast and that hard—he’d proven that plenty of times over.

If the day hadn’t been so perfect as if to be unreal, Roy might have panicked at the realization that once again he’d fallen for someone who was just in it for fun. But here in the sunlight with his two favorite people in the world, it was hard to feel anything but gratitude.

He loved Jason, and Jason was here. Right now, that was enough.

They went back to the apartment before Lian could get too cold or too hangry, and Roy threw together a quick lunch. The other thing Jason had brought downstairs turned out to be some kind of ridiculously expensive chocolate, which he used to make them fancy hot cocoa to go with their meal—another one of Alfred’s recipes. Roy should have been spending way more time at Dick’s when they were kids, clearly.

Roy put Lian down for her nap and came back to the kitchen to find Jason doing the dishes. It felt natural to press up against his back, to wrap his arms around his waist and kiss his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

Jason tilted his head to give Roy more room. “How much time do we have before she wakes up?”

“Not enough to do anything too wild,” Roy said. “You up for some necking on the couch like teenagers?”

Jason might not be, he knew. He’d offered Jason sex as his part of their arrangement, not a quiet saunter to first base.

But Jason turned around in the circle of his arms and gave him the smile that was all trouble, the one that had hooked Roy from the start. “Who the hell says ‘necking’ in this century? Jesus,” he said, and pulled Roy into a kiss.

They made out lazily on the couch until Lian woke up, but even then, Jason didn’t head upstairs. He stayed through several cutthroat games of Candyland, and to make dinner for the three of them. He stayed to help clean up the kitchen and to read Lian another chapter of The Trumpet of the Swan in that low voice of his. He stayed until she was tucked into bed, exhausted from the thrill of a snow day and having Jason there for hours and hours. Roy could relate.

When Roy eased Lian’s door closed, Jason was standing in the entryway, looking almost shy. “I should, uh, get out of your hair,” he said. “Hit the streets.”

“There’s fourteen inches of snow out there, no one’s committing any crimes tonight,” Roy said, and snagged Jason’s wrist, taking a half step back toward his own bedroom so that there was no possibility of misunderstanding. “Stay.”

They’d been sleeping together for months. There was no reason for this to feel different, just because they were in Roy’s apartment and not Jason’s; just because Jason had spent the whole day making Roy’s daughter smile; just because Roy had finally allowed himself to acknowledge that he was so in love he could barely breathe.

But it did. And maybe Jason felt it too, because he hesitated.

“I don’t…” he said, and swallowed, and Roy braced himself for rejection. “I don’t want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with in your home.”

God, this man. Roy tugged lightly on his wrist, and Jason took the couple of steps needed to cross the distance between them.

“I’ve never done anything with you I didn’t wholeheartedly want to do, and right now I really want you in my bed,” Roy assured him, his free hand sliding into Jason’s hair. “But what do you want?”

“You,” Jason breathed, “just you,” and kissed him.

Jason felt right in Roy’s messy room and unmade bed, more right than he did in his own cold and sterile penthouse. Roy wanted to keep him there in the rumpled sheets. It was probably for the best that they had to be quiet with Lian across the hall, because it kept Roy from blurting that out; from blurting out everything he’d been hiding from himself and was now desperate to share.

He kept his mouth busy by kissing Jason instead, kissing him as they moved together, slick and breathless but unhurried. Roy wrapped his hand around them both, swallowed Jason’s moans, and let himself pretend that he could keep this.

Afterwards, when he’d stopped trembling, when they’d cleaned themselves up, Jason sat up and reached for his underwear, kicked to the foot of the bed. Roy hooked a finger around his wrist again.

“Stay,” he said for the second time that night. “Please.”

It was too dark to make out Jason’s expression. Roy waited for the polite apology.

Instead, Jason dropped his underwear and reached for the blanket instead, pulling it up over both of them. “You snored like a buzzsaw when you were sick,” he informed Roy, giving him a gentle nudge; Roy took the hint and rolled to face in the other direction, and Jason slotted himself against Roy’s back. “That better have been because you were congested and not a regular thing.”

Roy hid his smile in the pillow and let his hand rest on top of the one Jason had laid against his belly. “If I snore, you have full permission to kick me.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Jason said, but the kiss he pressed to Roy’s hair belied his grumpy words.

Roy slept better than he had in years.

*

Jason was the one to call him a few days later, in the early afternoon before Roy picked Lian up from school. “Any chance you can get a babysitter for tonight?”

There was a naughty joke on the tip of Roy’s tongue, but Jason’s tone wasn’t right for a booty call. “You need backup?” Roy asked, marveling at the possibility that Jason Todd was actually asking for help.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Jason said, which meant “yes.” “I got a tip on some product that’s being moved tonight, and both the sellers and the buyers are arming up like it’s World War Three.”

“What’s the product?”

“Don’t know yet,” Jason admitted. “Wanna come find out?”

It would be a scramble, getting a sitter this last-minute. But Jason was asking, and not only did Roy want to encourage behavior that would hopefully lead to Jason getting shot significantly less, he trusted Jason’s instincts—maybe not the ones related to self-preservation, but certainly his ability to assess the severity of a situation. If this was bad enough for him to suggest he might need backup, then he definitely needed backup.

“I’m there,” Roy promised.

The sale was going down in an old warehouse by the river. Sometimes Roy thought Gotham was composed at least eighty percent of old warehouses by the river. The snow from earlier in the week had been washed away by two days straight of rain, and it was still dripping and freezing out when Roy and Jason crouched down in the shadow of the next warehouse over and watched at least twenty guys prowl around with semi-automatics.

The doors to the warehouse were open, revealing three large shipping containers. The mysterious product.

“Too big for drugs,” Roy said. “Guns?”

“If it was, the guards would be carrying them and not the standard heat they’re packing,” Jason said.

They exchanged glances, as much as they could with Jason in the helmet. There weren’t a lot of options left for what was in those shipping containers, and Roy didn’t like any of them.

“Buyers are here,” Jason said, nodding in the direction of approaching engines. A minute later, five SUVs with tinted windows pulled up. The sellers got even tenser than they’d been as the buyers poured out of the vehicles, equally well-armed.

“Well, this is ugly as fuck,” Roy muttered. “I’m thinking I really need to know what’s in those containers.”

“Agreed,” Jason said. “You got something in that quiver that makes a good distraction?”

“That better not mean you’re running out there to open them with like forty armed assholes out there—Jay!”

Because of course Jason was already up and running. Cursing his beautiful, reckless idiot under his breath, Roy shot off a few flare arrows, knowing Jason’s helmet would protect his eyes. The goons weren’t so lucky; most of them cringed as the flares knocked out their night vision. As soon as they were too dazzled to see which way the shot was coming from, he sent a couple of explosive arrows into the SUVs.

Pandemonium ensued. While the goons shouted and waved their guns around and tried to get their eyes to focus enough to see what was going on, Roy kept an eye on Jason. He’d ducked around the whole lot of them and had reached the nearest shipping container. It must’ve been locked, because he paused for maybe thirty seconds picking it before yanking the door open.

And then he froze.

Shit. Shit, whatever was in there was not good. Roy stumbled into motion, barely remembering to stay quiet enough not to be heard over the goons shouting at each other. He could make out what the cargo was before he was halfway to the shipping container, but it wasn’t until he drew up beside Jason that he let himself believe it.

It was people.

Dozens of them, packed in tight together and clearly drugged, staring at the two of them with dull, vaguely frightened eyes. The part of Roy’s mind that had been dealing with horrors since he was in middle school dispassionately catalogued what he was seeing and made sense of it: Ages ranging from a couple years older than Lian to maybe mid-twenties. All genders so they were probably being trafficked for labor and not sex, although the one didn’t preclude the other. No clues as to whether they were coming in or out or simply through Gotham, at least until one of them spoke.

The rest of him, the biggest part of him, couldn’t get past the fact that they were skinny and filthy and terrified and they were people, fuck, Roy was going to be sick. Lian had been taken from him just last year by a similar outfit and he’d only barely gotten her back.

“Hey.” Jason’s hand was on his arm. Even through Roy’s jacket and Jason’s glove, the touch was grounding. “Hey. Breathe.”

“Some of them are—they’re just babies, Jay,” Roy managed.

“I know.” Jason squeezed his arm—and then the shouting started behind them. They’d been spotted. “Fuck, we gotta move. Call it in—Oracle will listen to you.”

Roy moved automatically, loosing another explosive arrow into a third SUV. Most of the goons had gathered close to the cars to see why the first one had exploded, and the second explosion rocked a good number of them off their feet. Another arrow went into the warehouse roof—a siren arrow, a reliable classic. Between the explosions, the ensuing fire, and the shriek of the siren, first responders should be here soon even without Oracle’s help. Not that Roy wouldn’t take any help they could get.

Jason put down covering fire as they backed closer to the shipping container. Roy tapped his communicator. “Oracle? This is Arsenal.”

Her familiar computerized voice came over the line. “Where the hell are you, Arsenal? It doesn’t sound fun.”

“Warehouse district. We just busted a human trafficking ring.” Roy sent a smoke arrow toward the oncoming goons and put a regular broadhead through the thigh of one of the ones in front. Jason’s bullets took out another three. “We need GCPD, GCFD, paramedics, and some kind of social services. There’s victims here, probably at least a hundred.”

“Shit,” Oracle said. Even with the filter on her voice, she sounded shaky enough to explain why she didn’t question the “we.” “I’ll send them your way. Probably going to be close to ten minutes, though. Can you hold out?”

“We’ll have to,” Roy said, and sent a gas arrow to join the smoke. A few more goons toppled and fell. Others had fled at the sound of the siren, which at least made surviving a bit easier, even if Roy wanted every single one of these motherfuckers to rot in jail.

The strange thing was that they weren’t taking heavier fire, but then Roy realized that he and Jason were between these men and the shipping container. They didn’t want to risk damaging the cargo, even now.

The prisoners weren’t too drugged to realize something scary was going on outside—Roy could hear a few of them crying. Jason jerked his head toward the shipping container.

“Get in there, close the door,” he said.

“I’m not leaving you!” Roy snapped.

“I can take the rest of them,” Jason said. “Calm the kids down. They shouldn’t see this.”

Roy hesitated. “Jason…”

“I promise you I will still be here when that door opens.” Jason took another guy out with a headshot, and Roy abruptly understood what Jason was trying to spare him. “Get inside. Please.”

Roy got inside.

The prisoners all leaned away from him as he shut the door, which was fair enough, he supposed. “Hey, it’s dark in here, huh?” he said, trying to keep his voice jovial and failing utterly. He fumbled a glowstick out of one of the outside pockets on his quiver and snapped it, filling the container with an eerie greenish light. It didn’t improve the atmosphere very much, especially with gunshots still going off outside.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Roy said. He wasn’t sure if they were lucid enough to understand him, if they even spoke English, but he kept his tone as soothing as possible. “I’m one of the good guys. I know Superman! You all like Superman?”

A bullet pinged off of the side of the shipping container and several people screamed. A few children who hadn’t already been crying burst into tears.

“Hey, we’re going to be okay,” Roy assured them. “My...my friend is out there and he’s keeping us safe. Don’t listen to the noise, okay? That’s no fun. What if we sang instead?”

It was an idiotic thought, the thought of a father of a kindergartener who was desperately trying to stave off panic—theirs and his own—and all he got back was blank, frightened looks. Well, singing wouldn’t make it any worse. Roy launched into the first song he could think of, which turned out to be the Sesame Street theme song. God.

No one joined in, but a few of the kids stopped crying, so Roy kept going, singing all of Lian’s favorite lullabies one by one, as if she was here; as if it was her he was trying to comfort, to distract, and not a group of traumatized strangers, some as old as he was. Outside, the gunfire became more scattered, less all-consuming, until it was clearly just one shooter. One methodical, thorough shooter, taking care of a problem one by one.

Roy closed his eyes and kept singing.

Finally the gunshots stopped, and then there was a knock on the door. “It’s me. It’s done.”

Roy pushed the door back open just far enough to see Jason holstering his guns. He wasn’t visibly injured.

Roy looked past him, and then closed the door partially again, so that the others couldn’t see. He thought maybe half the goons had gotten away. The rest of them, twenty at least, were clearly dead.

“Should we open the other containers?” he asked. His throat was raw.

Jason shook his head. “First responders should do it. They’ll be able to do more for them than we can right now.”

They waited until new sirens replaced the fading sounds of Roy’s arrow, and then slunk away—the Red Hood was still a wanted man, after all. Roy hated to leave the victims, but he knew that the paramedics and social services could do more for them than he could.

Besides, he had a daughter to get home to.

They were silent the whole way back to their building, and as they entered through the roof access. They stopped in the hall, halfway between the elevator and the door to Jason’s apartment.

“Are you hurt?” Roy asked, disturbing the quiet. “Anything I need to take a look at?”

“No,” Jason said. “You?”

Roy shook his head and hit the button for the elevator.

“They’ll never hurt anyone else,” Jason said abruptly, like he’d been trying to hold it in. “None of them will ever ruin another life.”

Roy reached out and squeezed his hand. “I know,” he said.

He held Jason’s hand until the elevator came.

In his own apartment, he paid the babysitter, locked the door behind her, and immediately made his way to Lian’s room. His baby girl was sound asleep, blissfully trusting in the world despite everything she’d been through. She was clutching a stuffed fox Jason had given her.

Roy pulled up the little chair from her desk and just watched her breathe until his heart managed to beat somewhat normally again. She was safe. They had saved those people and his little girl was safe.

Jason had murdered every single one of the traffickers.

He had done it methodically and remorselessly, and not just in self-defense. Some of the bodies Roy had seen out there were already down from the smoke and the gas, which Roy supposed made him an accessory. Jason had told Roy not to watch, and he’d executed those men.

This was the man he was in love with. This was as real as the Jason who read Lian bedtime stories and got shy when he was complimented and kissed Roy like he was something miraculous. This was Jason’s idea of justice.

Roy would have let the police take the traffickers away. Ollie, Dinah, Dick—they all would have. Batman sure as hell would have. That was what superheroes did, after all. Wholesale slaughter—it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. And Jason’s willingness to embrace it—it should change something about how Roy felt, shouldn’t it?

How could he be in love with a man who did something like that?

Roy looked at Lian’s sweet little face, so peaceful in sleep. He thought about how he’d felt when she’d been taken, and how long it had been until she’d stopped jumping at shadows and crying at the drop of a hat. He thought about what the children in those shipping containers must have been through. He thought about Jason, murdered before he could finish his own childhood.

And he thought again about what Jason had done.

No, he realized. Tonight didn’t change a thing.

*

It turned out that refusing to deal with something didn’t actually make it go away. He’d ignored the inevitable, but one day Roy opened his laptop to find an email with a formal job offer with the CBI waiting for him.

He read through the offer, with its competitive salary and generous benefits package, and then closed the laptop and walked as far away from it as he could get while still being in his living room, as if that would make a difference.

Fuck.

He looked out the windows, down at the gray Gotham streets. The picture-postcard snow of that one perfect day was a distant memory. They were back to a typical Gotham winter: humid and rainy and bitterly cold. Before long it would give way to a typical Gotham summer: humid and rainy and brutally hot. Roy should be chomping at the bit to get out of this town.

But leaving Gotham meant leaving Jason.

He was being an idiot. Again. He knew that. He and Jason had made a practical arrangement, but Roy had let the boundaries go blurry, like he always did. But just because Roy had gotten attached didn’t mean this was a relationship. It wasn’t like they were breaking up.

They’d probably even stay friends. Roy was great at staying friends with people who didn’t love him back.

Because Jason liked him, that much was obvious. He liked teaming up together, he liked having Roy in his bed, and he even liked hanging out with Roy and Lian. Maybe it wasn’t love, but he was clearly amenable to keeping Roy around indefinitely.

For a minute, Roy considered turning down the job offer and just...staying. Here. With Jason. Sure, it would mean Roy wouldn’t have an income, and right now he was still paying for his and Lian’s food and clothes and other necessities, but it wasn’t like Jason couldn’t afford to cover that stuff too. All the money he’d been splashing around before Roy had asked him not to, he’d probably be happy to take on the rest of their expenses for as long as they needed.

...Or until he met someone he wanted to be with for real, someone who wouldn’t be thrilled about him supporting a kept man and his kid. Besides, how would Roy explain their arrangement to Lian, once she was old enough to start asking questions? How would he explain it to anyone? He could just imagine Ollie’s inevitably colorful reaction, for starters.

There was a word for what Roy was doing. There were a lot of words. World’s oldest profession, after all.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed. He and Jason had come to a mutually beneficial agreement, one that wasn’t anyone else’s business. He wouldn’t trade the past few months for anything. And if he was Jason’s because he was bought and paid for, well, at least he was someone’s.

Or at least he had been, because he was taking the job. He had to take the job.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Why couldn’t he ever have both? Why couldn’t he have the job and Jason?

Self-indulgently, he let himself imagine it: a new life in DC with a house just big enough for three, and a backyard for Lian to play in, the kind that always seemed to come ready-made with a swingset in it. Waking up every morning to find Jason right there—not twenty-two flights above him, but wrapped around him like he never wanted to let go. Reading Lian stories at night and tucking her in together.

God, he was pathetic.

On the other hand, Jason wasn’t actually legally bound to Gotham. Hell, it could be good for him to get away from this gloomy city and all the Bat-reminders that lurked on its roofs. Jason might not feel the same way Roy did, but he liked him. Maybe he liked him enough to relocate, at least for a little while.

Maybe he liked him enough to try this thing for real. No money on the table. Just them.

Roy pulled himself away from the window and looked at the email again. He’d accept the offer—there was no other choice, not really. And then…

Well, then he’d make an offer of his own. What Jason did with it was up to him.

*

The next morning, he stood outside Jason’s door for an embarrassingly long time, trying to work up courage he never needed when he was fighting intergalactic dictators or dimension-conquering demons. It was stupid, he knew. The worst Jason could say was no, and then Roy would be in the same position he’d be in if he’d never asked at all.

But he hesitated just the same.

Finally he gave himself a good hard kick in the figurative pants and let himself in. Jason was sitting at the kitchen island drinking coffee. His eyebrows went up when he saw Roy.

“I was just about to text and ask where you were,” he said. “Lian get off to school okay?”

“Yeah, I just...sorry,” Roy said, putting their breakfast on the island.

He meant to keep going, to tell Jason about the job offer, but he found himself just looking instead. Drinking Jason in like he was the last sip of cool water before being banished to an eternity in a desert. Jason looked sleepy and a little disheveled, like he did every morning, with his curls rumpled from bed; there was a fading bruise on his temple and scratches on his forearm. He wore a threadbare Metropolis Meteors shirt and sweatpants and his feet were bare. His eyes were very green, and there was a quizzical half-smile on his face.

He looked like home, and Roy was terrified he wouldn’t want to stay that way if Roy asked him to.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked after a minute of Roy just gawking at him. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m fine. Sorry,” Roy said again. “Just. Distracted, I guess.”

“From hunger?” Jason asked, sliding off the stool and reaching out to snag Roy’s shirt and pull him closer, his mouth curving. “Or can you wait a little while?”

He leaned in to kiss Roy and Roy let himself sink into it, into the warmth of Jason’s mouth and the strength of his arms. It would be so easy to put the conversation off again. Until tomorrow, or at least until after they’d made love. But that felt too much like lying.

He pulled back, but kept his hands on Jason’s waist, where they’d somehow found their way. “Hey,” he said. “I need to tell you something first.”

Jason must’ve picked up on his mood, because he frowned. “Somehow I don’t think it’s good news.”

“No, it is,” Roy said, with a smile he knew was unconvincing. “I finally heard from DC. The CBI, specifically. They want me to start in two weeks.”

Jason blinked at him. Then he took a step back, out of Roy’s reach. “Oh.”

“It’s a great offer.” Roy forced himself to sound enthusiastic. “Good pay, good benefits, reasonable hours so I can spend time with Lian. Sarge Steel’s kind of a hardass, but better than working for Amanda Waller.”

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.” Jason’s expression was—well, it wasn’t any expression at all, really.

“Yeah, I, uh, I already accepted it.”

“That was fast,” Jason said. “Do they not do interviews at the CBI?”

“Oh, well, you know, I’ve worked there before. They know me,” Roy said. “Sarge actually gave me a call about a month ago to let me know it was probably a done deal. This is just putting it on paper.”

Maybe someone who hadn’t been studying Jason like a holy text for months wouldn’t have noticed the tension that settled into his shoulders at Roy’s words. “You’ve known for a month? And you didn’t say anything?”

“It wasn’t a hundred percent certain,” Roy said, squirming. “And hey, I mean, we always knew this was temporary, right? That was part of it. I just needed a decent place until I landed a job.”

“Right.” Jason looked away. “Yeah. You just needed a place. Well, I’m glad I could help.”

Fuck. “Jason…”

“When do you think you two will clear out?” Jason asked. “After all, it’s a valuable unit. I’d like to be able to put it on the market.”

God, Roy had screwed this up royally. He hadn’t said that right at all, though he hadn’t expected Jason to go this clipped and cold over it. “Wait, listen. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come—”

“End of the month’s traditional, right?” Jason asked, interrupting him. “That’s what, five days? That should be enough time to pack. You can take the furniture with you or I can have someone take it to the dump. I don’t care.”

Roy took a step closer. “Jaybird…”

“Don’t call me that,” Jason snapped, and Roy drew back, stung. “We had fun. You were a good fuck. But it was a business arrangement, and it’s done, so enough with the cutesy nicknames.”

Roy’s stomach went cold. “Yeah, it was a business arrangement,” he said slowly. “But Jayb—Jason. I thought we were friends, too.”

Jason’s lip curled. “I don’t pay for friendship.”

Roy took another step back. He thought he might be shaking. He thought he might throw up.

He thought Jason had cared.

“Right,” he said. At least his voice didn’t waver. “End of the month it is. I’ll explain to Lian why we’re not taking anything you bought us.”

For the first time, Jason’s harsh expression flickered. “I didn’t mean...Lian can keep the—”

“We’re not taking anything you bought us,” Roy snapped, and Jason fell silent. “I’ll drop the keys off at the front desk when we leave. Let me know if you need another good fuck before my five days are up. I guess I’m on the hook as long as we’re here, right?”

“I wouldn’t...Roy...” Jason started, but then he trailed off. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t say anything else at all.

“Yeah.” Roy headed for the door. “Thanks for your generosity.”

He let the door slam behind him, a heavy thud that shook the floor. The elevator took ages to come, and the whole time Roy was standing there, a tiny, idiotic part of him was hoping that Jason would follow him out, would apologize. Would fix this.

But he didn’t.

Notes:

Lian was briefly kidnapped by traffickers in Outsiders, which took place shortly before this story is set.

I have Real Life Things next Monday, so the next chapter may go up a day early or a day late, but I'll do my best to get it to you in a timely fashion! Sneak peek: things get worse.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! Real life shenanigans interfered.

The traffic out of Gotham was hell. Roy drummed his fingernails on the steering wheel and fought back the urge to start laying on the horn, as if it would do any good. It figured that when he finally couldn’t wait to get out of Gotham, this fucking city was doing its best to hold on to him.

It was Friday, two days after that awful conversation with Jason. Roy had arranged for Lian to stay with the Wests for the weekend; Wally had scooped her up and run her to Keystone City for a three-day playdate with the twins. Roy owed him and Linda the most massive of favors for freeing him up to drive down to DC and do some frantic apartment hunting.

He hoped spending time with Jai and Irey cheered Lian up. She usually took the news that they were moving with philosophical good cheer, but she wasn’t happy about this one. “I like my window and my teacher and Mr. John the doorman,” she’d protested. Roy had done his best to talk her around gently, but he hadn’t had the heart to tell her they were leaving her princess bed behind, though he knew he’d have to break it to her eventually.

She hadn’t asked about Jason. Roy was bracing himself for that one, too.

Fucking Jason. He was the last thing Roy wanted to think about, and so of course he’d been the only thing on his mind for the past two days. And stuck in traffic like this, there was nothing to distract him from running over their last conversation again and again, like picking at a scab until it scarred.

You were a good fuck.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It was hardly the first time someone had made it patently clear what Roy was good for—and what he wasn’t. And after all, he had offered exactly that, hadn’t he? Sex in exchange for an apartment. If he was going to end up feeling wounded that Jason had taken his offer at face value, he had no one to blame but himself.

But as always, Roy’s stupid heart had run away with him, and it had become so much more than sex to him, so much more than an ostensibly simple exchange. And just as predictably, he’d fooled himself into thinking it meant more to Jason, too. It was the way Jason had kissed him sometimes, like he’d be happy to do no more than that all morning; the way he seemed to miss Roy when he wasn’t around. The way he told him things Roy suspected he’d never told anyone else.

Endlessly replaying the good times wasn’t any better than endlessly replaying their fight, but Roy couldn’t help remembering how Jason would curl around him in bed, like he was trying to put off getting up and going their separate ways as much as Roy was. The day he’d spent nursing Roy when he was sick. The way he read to Lian and made her laugh and genuinely seemed to enjoy spending time with her. Yeah, okay, Lian was the best of the Harper line and by far the easiest to love, but surely the rest of it meant something. Not romance, maybe, but at least a little damn affection.

And Jason had been angry when Roy had told him he was leaving. Roy was enough of a sucker to let that be cause for hope...if Jason hadn’t then immediately done his best to kick Roy out of his life as quickly as humanly possible. Whatever had pissed Jason off, whatever had made him unleash his claws, it wasn’t wanting Roy to stay.

Roy groaned and dropped his head back against the headrest. This was pointless. He’d been going over it again and again in his mind for days and accomplished nothing but making himself feel even shittier. And now he was stuck on this fucking highway, inching forward so slowly he might as well get out and walk. He’d hoped that if he pushed it he could make DC by dinnertime, but he was just at Gotham city limits now, and it was already dark.

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen to see who it was, and was startled to recognize the number. He’d never saved the contact, but this was one of the lines Jason used for work.

Why would Jason be calling him? Roy silenced the hopeful part of him that wanted Jason to be calling with an apology. There was being a naive, lovesick sucker, and there was being downright stupid. Jason probably just wanted to ensure that Roy and Lian were out by the deadline.

But no, if that was the case he’d be calling from his personal number, the one still saved as “Jaybird” and an eggplant emoji in Roy’s phone. This line meant Red Hood business. A few days ago Roy would have assumed Jason was calling for backup—but would his pride let him?

Someone honked, and Roy realized that he was drifting out of his lane at about five miles an hour, and also that the phone had rung four times and was about to go to voicemail. He straightened the car out, sped up, and answered the call. “Hood?”

“Not exactly.”

It was a man’s voice on the other end, an unfamiliar one. Roy suddenly felt chilled, though the heat was blasting in the car. “Who is this? How did you get this phone?”

“Oh, come on, Arsenal, you know who I am,” the man said. “Well, not me personally, maybe, but you had no problem getting involved in my business a little while back. You and your little buddy.”

“Hm, which business would that be? We get involved in so much. Nosy of us, I know, but we just can’t help it.” Roy kept his tone light, even as he tried not to panic. This asshole had Jason’s phone. That meant Jason was...where?

“Let me jog your memory, then,” the man said. “You two shitheads cost me millions of dollars and killed twenty-three of my men. Ring a bell?”

The human traffickers. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Those guys didn’t play around. “Only twenty-three? Shit, we got sloppy that night. You want us to come around and take care of you, too?”

“Oh, Hood’s already here,” the man said. “We’re just waiting on you.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Is that a fact?” Roy asked, still forcing that cheerful insouciance into his voice, his eyes scanning the highway ahead for an off-ramp. “And suppose I happen to have a scheduling conflict this evening?”

“Quit being cute,” the man snapped. “You have two options here. One, we see how long it takes your friend here to die, then we track you down and see if you last longer. Two, you bring me five million cash by midnight, and maybe you both walk away alive.”

The price tag made sense—that was about as much cash as could be stuffed into two briefcases, and carrying it all would keep both of Roy’s arms occupied. “That’s a lot of cash to liquidate in a hurry.”

“You and I both know Hood’s good for it, with everything he’s taken from hardworking businessmen like me,” the man said. Roy nearly gagged at that description for this kidnapping piece of shit, but he forced it down. “But the longer you take, the more he’s going to suffer.”

Roy’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Fine,” he said. “Where am I supposed to meet you?”

“Call me when you’ve got the cash,” the man said. “I’ll tell you then.”

And he hung up.

“Fuck,” Roy said. He spotted an exit and veered across three lanes of traffic to reach it, ignoring the angry honks from his fellow drivers. “Fucking fuck!”

Jason. Jason was in danger—possibly. Before Roy charged in, he had to make sure that this asshole hadn’t just gotten ahold of Jason’s phone somehow and not the man himself. He dialed Jason’s personal line, praying that he would answer when he saw Roy’s name—that he would be there to answer.

“You’ve reached Jason. Leave a message.”

Shit. “Jay, it’s Roy. Listen, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but can you just let me know you’re okay? A text is fine, just...let me know.”

He hung up and tried another one of Jason’s Red Hood lines. “Hood, it’s Arsenal. Call me when you get this.” Another line. “It’s me. Call me, please.”

Okay. Just because Jason wasn’t picking up didn’t mean the traffickers had him...but it made it more likely. Which meant Roy had to keep his head and think this through.

He could try to come through with the ransom. He didn’t have the money, or the ability to access Jason’s accounts, but he could go to Ollie, or even Bruce.

But even if handing that kind of cash over to scum like that didn’t make Roy feel sick, he didn’t trust for a second that paying up would mean he and Jason walked away free. At best, the kidnappers would only demand more money, indefinitely. But the most likely scenario was that Roy and Jason both ended up dead and the traffickers got a nice little nest egg to destroy more lives with.

No, he’d find out where they were supposed to meet, slip in and case the place, and get Jason out. No matter what, he was getting Jason out.

His Arsenal gear was all in the trunk. Once he was back in Gotham proper, he found a quiet street and changed into it, then checked the time. How long should he wait before calling back? The longer he waited, the more time they had to hurt Jason—but if he called back too soon, they’d know he hadn’t gotten the cash.

He killed a little time by calling Dick, who also didn’t pick up, which didn’t settle his nerves any. “Hey Dick, it’s Roy. Jason’s in trouble and I’m going in after him. I’ll text you the address when I have it. If you don’t hear from me by morning...well, you know what to do.”

And then he waited. He didn’t let himself think about what might be happening to Jason at that very moment. He didn’t let himself think about the fact that Jason wanted nothing to do with him. He just waited.

When he judged that enough time had gone by to make it plausible that he’d gotten his hands on the cash, he called Jason’s first number back.

The man he’d spoken to earlier answered. “I hope this is good news, Arsenal.”

“I’ve got your five mil,” Roy retorted. “Now tell me where you are so I can trade it for my partner.”

“Those bills better be unmarked,” the man said. “And you better not get any ideas. You show up with a weapon, the Red Hood is dead. You bring any of your little spandex pals, he’s dead. I even catch a whiff of a fucking cop…”

“He’s dead. I get it. Let’s move on,” Roy said. “Where are you?”

The man gave him the address. Shockingly, it was not a warehouse by the river, but somewhere in the Narrows, which wasn’t much better. It made sense, though—they’d captured Jason on his own turf, and they wouldn’t have wanted to transport him far.

“Remember, hero, not a word to anyone, or Red Hood here quits breathing,” the man said.

“I got it,” Roy snapped. “I’m on my way.”

He hung up and promptly texted Dick the address. Then he started the car.

The Narrows was only a ten minute drive from where he was. Roy parked several blocks away from the address in question and made sure he had his guns as well as his bow and quiver. He’d been shifting away from firearms ever since he’d been shot, but this wasn’t the night to be skittish about them. The bow was quieter and the trick arrows gave him a wider range of options, but the guns could be quicker, even for an archer who’d more than earned the name “Speedy,” and they were easier to use in close quarters.

And Roy would have absolutely no qualms about putting a bullet in anyone who hurt Jason.

He took a fire escape up to the roof and made his way over to the building where they were holding Jason. Even in Gotham, rank and file tended to guard doors and windows and forget about roofs. With luck, Roy could be in and back out with Jason in tow before they even knew he was in the Narrows.

There was no roof access door for the building he wanted, so he lowered himself over the edge of the roof until he could drop practically silently onto the fire escape. It was harder to see in through the window than he would have liked—it was dark inside the building, while the Gotham night was lit up with streetlamps and neon. Still, he could make out enough to tell that on the other side of the glass was an empty apartment, devoid of furniture and in shitty condition. The building was probably condemned.

It was the work of a moment to unlock the supposedly secure window from the outside and ease it open. Roy slipped in through the open window, testing each floorboard before putting his weight on it. He wasn’t just worried about the noise; now that he was inside and his eyes were adjusting to the darkness, it was clear that the wood was rotting, with foot-sized holes scattered around just waiting to snag and break an ankle.

The door was open. Roy stood for a minute tucked just out of sight next to the doorway, his back to the wall, listening for any sounds. He could make out muffled voices, but they sounded at least one flight down, maybe two; certainly not all the way up here.

Still, no sense taking chances. He crept out into the hall, which was dark and quiet, and made his way along it, checking each room one by one. The last thing he wanted to do was leave an enemy at his back, but he also couldn’t be as methodical as he would’ve liked; the longer he took, the more they’d start to wonder why he hadn’t shown up with the cash yet.

The longer he took, the more time they had to hurt Jason.

Roy paused at the top of the stairs to nock a taser arrow to the string—fast, effective, and nearly silent if the victim didn’t manage to scream. He crept down the stairs, straining to hear those distant voices, to figure out exactly where they were and how far, to make out any other sounds.

He was listening so hard that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the communicator in his ear suddenly crackled to life. “Arsenal? It’s Nightwing. Arsenal, are you there?”

Roy tapped the comm. “Can’t really talk now, Wing,” he murmured, as low as he possibly could.

“Did Hood find you?”

Roy blinked. Did Jason find him? “What?”

“Yeah, I called him after I got your message. He had no idea what you were talking about. What do you mean, he’s in trouble?”

Roy stared into the darkness. If Dick had talked to Jason...if Jason wasn’t in danger...then…

Oh, fuck.

There was a footstep behind him. Roy started to turn, drawing his bow—and something slammed into the back of his head. Pain burst behind his eyes, and everything went black.

Notes:

WHOOPS.

Chapter 10

Roy awoke to a ringing in his head and the taste of copper in his mouth. He opened his eyes, wincing at the light. When his vision came into focus, he found himself staring at...his own lap? What?

He tried to move his head, and had to bite back a pained sob. His head throbbed so hard he thought he might vomit, and his neck was so stiff from having his head hanging down in front of him while he was unconscious that he could hardly move it.

The dizziness didn’t help, either. Concussion, then. Someone had hit him…

Jason. Jason was in trouble—except no, Dick had called, Jason wasn’t in trouble, Jason was fine…

But Roy was in deep shit.

He managed to get his head upright after a couple of agonized minutes. It took another beat for him to realize why he couldn’t move anything else: he was tied to a chair. And tied well, too—his wrists were bound to each other and to the chair back, and his ankles to the chair legs. He might be able to break the wood against something and free himself that way, but not while he was feeling this shaky.

“So you’re finally awake,” said a familiar voice. Roy turned his head—ow—to see a white guy with a stupid goatee walk into the room. And between him and Ollie, he knew from stupid goatees.

“You’re the one who called me,” Roy said. His words came out thick, like his mouth didn’t want to respond. They must’ve hit him pretty hard. “You never had Hood, did you?”

“Not yet,” Goatee said. There were more men filing in behind him, at least half a dozen. Most of them had the look of professional bruisers. “Oh, we tried, last night. Didn’t get him, but the shithead dropped his phone, and we saw an opportunity.”

A trap. And Roy had blundered right into it like a panicking idiot. Or a man in love.

“Hey, if you’re that hard up for a phone, I’m sure he doesn’t mind if you keep it,” Roy said. The slurring really wasn’t making him sound as sassy as he wanted to. “He’s got others.”

“And you called them all, didn’t you?” Goatee said. “Heroes are so predictable. You came here to rescue him, he’ll come here to rescue you, and I can kill both of you motherfuckers at once.”

Yeah, that was about what Roy had figured the plan was. “Heroes? What are you talking about? I might just barely qualify, but the Red Hood’s a crime boss.”

Goatee snorted. “Yeah. A crime boss who rescues people. What a menace. He might be a little tougher than most of you spandex shits, but end of the day, he’s a cape.”

Roy shook his head, which turned out to be a mistake, since he was pretty sure his brain wasn’t properly attached anymore. “Nah,” he said. “We can see eye to eye enough to take care of a real piece of shit human trafficker like you occasionally, but you got him wrong. He’s not a hero, he’s not my partner, and just because I showed up to save him doesn’t mean he’s going to show up to save me.”

He sent a silent apology in Jason’s direction, wherever he was. Jason was a hero, but if he could convince Goatee and his crew of assholes that there was no way Jason would come to Roy’s rescue...well, it would probably still end poorly for Roy, unless he could think of a way out of these bonds. But they’d stop trying to lure Jason in, and he’d be safe.

Although…would Jason come to Roy’s rescue? Just because Roy had blundered headfirst into a trap the second he thought Jason was in danger didn’t mean Jason would do the same. After all, he’d made it very clear that he didn’t feel the way Roy did.

No, Roy was being unfair. Jason might not be in love with him, but he was a good man. He wouldn’t leave Roy here to die. And there was Dick, too—he knew exactly where Roy was, and he had to suspect that things had gone pear-shaped. Either one of them could walk right into the second part of the trap. Roy couldn’t allow that, which was why he had to get himself free first.

He just wasn’t sure how.

“I don’t buy it,” Goatee said. “I think you two are tight. I think he’s gonna show up to save your interfering ass. And I think I’m gonna get to watch both of you bleed out in front of me.”

“Yeah, well, you also think that beard’s a good look for you, so I think we all know you’re not exactly a shining example of good judgment,” Roy retorted.

Goatee laughed. Then he punched Roy in the face.

Roy’s head snapped back with the force of the blow, pain piling onto pain as the movement jarred his throbbing skull. He tasted blood pooling in his mouth; he’d cut his lip on his teeth.

“Do you have any idea what you and your fucking partner cost me?” Goatee demanded.

Roy leaned forward and spat blood on the floor. His ears rang. “Not nearly enough as you deserve, you child-trafficking sack of moldy dicks.”

“My inventory. My profit. My men. My reputation,” Goatee said. He pulled up a second chair and sat down in it, maybe ten feet away from Roy. “So now I’m going to watch you suffer, and when Red Hood gets here, he can join you. And when I get tired of that, I’ll allow you to die. But I don’t get tired easily.”

He gestured to the goons who’d filed into the room behind him. Roy braced himself. He’d been beaten before. Experience never made it go down easier.

The first punch rattled his brain, which was almost a blessing. It made it harder to focus on the beating, even as his ribs cracked; even as they broke his nose. He ignored the swelling pain, the blood running down his face, the wheezy way he was struggling to pull air into his lungs, and focused instead on his bonds. Dislocate his thumbs if he had to. Scrape his skin raw. He had to get free. He had to get out. He couldn’t let Jason fall into the trap after him—and Lian, Lian needed him. His little girl needed her daddy to come home.

A fist slammed into his stomach and he vomited, retched up bile because he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, had no appetite without Jason. Jason. Lian. He had to stay awake for Jason and Lian, couldn’t pass out no matter how much he wanted to. He fought his closing eyes and then realized that they weren’t closing, they were swelling shut. His mouth was full of blood again. The ropes behind his back were wet with it. He had to get free.

Jason.

Lian.

He had to…

There was a scream. At first Roy thought it was him, until he realized that it was coming from too far away. Downstairs? Outside?

Goatee sprang to his feet, or at least Roy thought he did. It was hard to see with his eyes swollen nearly shut. “He’s here! Stop him! Take him down!”

Jason.

“No,” Roy tried to say. It came out a croak. “No, it’s a trap…”

“Go! Help them!” Goatee shouted at the men in the room with him. They headed for the door—but the window shattered and something came whizzing in through it before exploding in a thick, gray cloud. A smoke bomb.

Roy coughed, eyes streaming. Someone swung in through the window, feet first, someone who moved in a way that was heartbreakingly familiar, and Roy was too dizzy to know if he should be relieved or terrified.

“Kill him!” Goatee screamed, and the men turned and rushed the newcomer. Roy tried to watch, but it was all a blur through the smoke. Screams, groans, crashes. Pain. The newcomer was still standing. He was the only one.

Goatee lunged for Roy. He felt a hand in his hair, holding his head up, and a blade at his throat. “Stay right there,” Goatee said. “Take one step and I’ll slit his fucking throat.”

“Okay,” the Red Hood said, and shot him.

The knife clattered to the floor; Goatee’s body fell a second later.

And then Jason was on his knees next to Roy’s chair, gloved hands cupping his face, wiping the blood from his mouth. He was just in his domino mask and Roy was glad; he’d missed Jason’s face. “Roy! Roy, Jesus, fuck, Roy, say something.”

“It’s a trap,” Roy managed.

Jason let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I know,” he said. “I know, but it’s okay now, we’re going to get you out of here. Just hang on, okay?” He let go of Roy’s face and moved out of his line of sight.

“Ja—Hood,” Roy gasped, catching himself.

A firm hand squeezed his forearm, and then something was tugging at his bonds, sawing at them. “I’m here, I’m right here. I’m just cutting you free, Roy, I’m not going anywhere.”

Roy sagged forward, his thoughts dissolving into pain. He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, but that was okay. Jason was here.

“Roy? Hey, no, Roy, stay with me, okay?”

Running footsteps. “Hood! Hood, did you find—oh shit. Arsenal!” That sounded like Dick. What was Dick doing here?

“Get him in the car.” Was that Batman? That didn’t make any sense, Jason didn’t talk to Bruce, wouldn’t talk to Bruce, so this all had to be a dream, which was good, because when he woke up he wouldn’t hurt anymore…

Someone was lifting him. The movement jostled everything broken inside him, a white-hot flare of pain through his whole body, and then he was gone, gone, sinking under it, and Jason’s voice was with him the whole way down.

*

Everything hurt.

Roy was used to waking up with everything hurting. He’d found that the pain tended to get worse once he opened his eyes, so he left them closed for the moment and tried to figure out where he was and why he was hurting.

He was lying down on something that felt like a bed, blanket and all, which was a good sign. Kidnappers holding you for ransom didn’t tend to tuck you in…

Kidnappers.

Jason.

He lurched upwards and attempted to open his eyes. Neither went the way he’d planned; he only got partially up before collapsing back against the bed with a pained gasp, and only one of his eyes would open properly.

That one eye, though, was enough to show him that he was in his own bedroom, although how he’d gotten there he had no idea.

Even more confusing, Jason was asleep in a chair by his bed, Lian’s copy of The Trumpet of the Swan in his lap.

Roy squinted at him with his good eye. “Jason…?”

His voice was a hoarse croak, but Jason startled awake anyway. The book fell to the floor with a light thunk. “Roy? What do you need?”

“What…?” Roy rasped.

“Wait, hang on, you must be dying of thirst.” Jason got up with a little groan and picked up a glass of water that had been sitting on the nightstand, reusable straw and all. Perching on the edge of the bed, he offered it to Roy, who obligingly opened his mouth for the straw.

The first sip of cool water was a blessed relief. Roy drank slowly, knowing he shouldn’t rush after going without water for...how long, exactly?

Jason seemed to sense what he was wondering. “It’s Sunday evening. You’ve been mostly out of it since Friday night,” he said. “Lian is still at the Wests’. We told her you’re working on a big case—we didn’t want to scare her and say you were hurt. Wally says she can stay as long as you need.” He met Roy’s eyes—well, eye. “Enough water for now?”

Roy managed to nod a tiny bit, and Jason took the glass away. “Thanks,” Roy said. His voice still sounded rough, but not nearly as bad as it had been. “How bad…?”

“You’re a mess,” Jason said flatly. “Broken ribs, broken nose, dislocated thumb and shoulder, two black eyes, and a hell of a lot of bruising. But it’s nothing that won’t heal.”

He didn’t look great either. Not hurt, but haggard, like he hadn’t been sleeping—which made sense, if he’d been propped up in that chair since Friday night. He’d clearly had to take it from the dining room set, since Roy didn’t have a chair in his bedroom. It had no cushion and no arms. Roy couldn’t imagine falling asleep in it for a second.

He couldn’t imagine what Jason was doing here.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to lever himself up into a sitting position. It hurt like hell, even when Jason hastily moved to help him, but he managed to get partially upright.

Jason’s hands lingered on him for a minute before he withdrew back to the kitchen chair, looking...well, Roy wasn’t sure how to interpret the expression on his face, but it wasn’t a happy one.

“I was trying to root out the last of the traffickers,” Jason said. “Got into it with a couple of them on Thursday night. I knew I’d dropped my phone, but I didn’t think...I mean, it’s barely more than a burner. I didn’t care if I lost it. I…” He paused for a minute, his jaw working like he was trying to hold something back. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

He kept going, glaring at something past Roy’s left shoulder. “I got your calls. I mean, I saw that you called, but I didn’t listen to the messages. I didn’t...you could have died because I just sat there, stewing in my own fucking pride, and I…”

“Hey,” Roy said, because he couldn’t see Jason in distress and not try to fix it. Not anymore. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and it’s not—” Jason cut himself off. “You wanna know why I finally listened to them? Because Dick called me. Dick hasn’t called me once since I came back, but…” He shook his head. “Anyway, he said you thought I was in trouble, and I came down here and you weren’t…you weren’t here, and I…”

His face crumpled, and then he was crying, and Roy couldn’t bear it. “Jayb—Jason…” he said, trying to sit up further so he could reach for him and dropping back when it hurt too much. “Ah! Fuck.”

“Stop moving,” Jason scolded through his tears.

“Then come here,” Roy snapped back.

Jason shook his head and swiped furiously at his eyes. “It’s my fault,” he said. “They took you because you got involved in my case, and because I killed so many of them, and because I dropped my stupid fucking phone. You’re hurt because of me. You almost died because of me.”

“Okay, first of all, I’ve been fighting crime literally since you were in what, first grade? So enough with this narrative of you leading me astray,” Roy said. “I took down the traffickers with you because it was the right thing to do, and I walked directly into a trap because I panicked. Neither of those things are on you. You saved me.”

“I murdered someone,” Jason muttered. “Some hero.”

“You saved me,” Roy insisted. “You took care of me. Patched me up and everything.”

“That was mostly Alfred,” Jason said. “He came out here, did his field medic bit.”

Roy blinked his one good eye, surprised. “I didn’t know you were in touch with him.”

Jason shifted in his seat. “I’m not. But I figured since Bruce was already there…”

“He was?” Roy frowned. He thought he remembered Bruce’s voice, and Dick’s… “Dick was there too, wasn’t he? He called Bruce?”

“I called Bruce,” Jason said. He’d stopped crying, but his eyes were still red. They always looked sad, that beautiful down-tilted shape of them, but now they were breaking Roy. “Asked Dick to come in from Bludhaven. I didn’t know how many of the gang there were, and I knew they were expecting me to show up flying solo. Bruce and Dick took the front door as a distraction and I went in through the window.”

Roy stared at him. This, this he couldn’t wrap his head around. “You asked Bruce for help?”

“It was you. I’d beg the fucking Joker for help for you,” Jason said, like it was obvious. His voice went very quiet. “I’d do anything for you.”

No. No, Jason couldn’t just say shit like that, because Roy had no defenses against it. No defenses except one. “I thought I was just a good fuck,” he said, his gaze fixed on Jason’s.

Jason winced. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, so I’m a bad fuck?” Roy asked, trying to make it a joke and failing utterly.

“No, I mean…” Jason looked at his hands. “You weren’t just that. You were never just...I know we said it was a business arrangement, but…”

He sighed and looked back up, met Roy’s eye again. “I lied to you. Right from the beginning I lied to you, and to myself, when I said that was something I could do. I mean, you were my teenage crush, you know? I never thought I’d ever see you again and then there you were, not looking at me like I was a monster. Flirting with me. Touching me. So when you offered…” He shook his head. “I never meant for it to be a trade. I just wanted to do something nice for you, because I liked you so much. But I couldn’t turn it down, either. Not you. Not if that was all I could get.”

“Jason…” Roy said softly. He was surprised he could hear it over how loud his heart was suddenly pounding. Jason couldn’t be saying this sort of thing, not to Roy. No one ever said these things to Roy.

“I tried to keep it professional, I really did,” Jason said. “But how the fuck was I supposed to do that with you calling me Jaybird and baby and bringing me fucking breakfast and asking me to hang out with your kid? How am I gonna pretend this doesn’t mean anything when you’re looking at me the way you do?”

“How do I look at you?” Roy asked. He thought he knew. He’d never been great at hiding it.

Jason’s cheeks were pink, although that might have been left over from the crying. “Like you never want to stop,” he said.

Yeah, that was about what Roy had thought.

“And then you said you were moving. That it was just an apartment. And I lost my temper,” Jason went on. “I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean that day, but all I kept thinking was that you promised. You promised you’d never leave me bleeding.”

Roy swallowed. “You didn’t let me finish, that day,” he said. There was something fluttering in his chest, something trying to get out. He was afraid to call it hope. “I didn’t just go upstairs to tell you I was leaving. I was going to ask you to come with me.”

Jason stared at him.

“You still could,” Roy said. It was like firing a grappling arrow into the blue and stepping off of the ledge of a building, waiting for the line to catch him. Having to trust that it would. “Gotham’s terrible for you, Jayb—Jay. Too many ghosts. Come to DC with me. Lian wants you there. I want you there.” He took the leap. “I love you.”

“...Why?” Jason asked, tears welling up again. Roy hated it, hated his stupid broken body that wouldn’t let him out of this bed to hold Jason until everything was all right. “You know me too well for that. You’ve seen the way I work. The way I kill. You’re only in that bed because I’m a killer and a stubborn fucking asshole who can’t even answer his goddamn—” He cut himself off with a bitter clench of his jaw.

“You’ve been telling me you’re a monster for months, and I still don’t believe you,” Roy said fiercely. “I haven’t seen you fire a single shot I didn’t agree with. I love you because you do it for the right reasons. I love you because you make my kid happy. I love you because I’ve lived all over the world and I only feel like I’m home when you’re there too.” Fuck, now he was misting up too. “You don’t have to say it back, but you don’t get to tell me how I feel either, so would you just get the fuck over here and kiss me already?”

Jason swiped his hand across his face again. “Your face is all busted up, dumbass,” he said, but he got up and sat at the side of the bed anyway. “Who wants to be kissed like that? You’re a glutton for punishment.”

“If the punishment’s you, then yes,” Roy agreed, trying to smile.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Still the worst fucking lines, I swear to god.”

But he’d never kissed Roy so gently—his mouth, first, and then his cheek, and his temple. Roy closed his eyes and let himself believe in the softness of those kisses.

“I do love you,” Jason said, so low Roy wouldn’t have heard it if Jason’s lips hadn’t been right by his ear. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

Jason loved him. Jason loved him. Roy didn’t magically stop hurting at those words—but he hurt a little less.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, and Jason pulled back to look at him. “Will you come with us? If you want to stay in Gotham, I’ll quit the CBI. But I think it would be good for you to leave this city.”

“You can’t quit a job you haven’t even started,” Jason said, looking adorably scandalized for a man who’d killed two dozen people in the past week. “My whole operation is here, you know. I can’t just leave. It would take time to dismantle it. To build something somewhere else.”

That wasn’t a no. Roy waited.

Jason’s brow furrowed. “Lian...she would really want me moving in?”

“Are you kidding? She’ll be thrilled. She’s always asking for you.” Roy smiled again, or gave it his best effort—his face was so swollen he had a feeling the effect was pretty ghoulish. “She must get it from me.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Jason said, but his expression was fond.

No, Roy corrected himself. His expression was adoring. Maybe it always had been.

Jason gnawed at his lip for a minute. “DC, huh? I could probably think of something to keep me occupied down there.”

“I can definitely think of things to keep you occupied,” Roy said.

Jason laughed and held up a hand to block Roy’s face. “God, don’t leer, you look like you’ve been run over by a truck.” He dropped his hand and adjusted Roy’s blanket minutely. “Guess I’m coming with you, then.”

If he could have flung himself at Jason or crowed with glee, he would have. As it was, all Roy could do was say “Guess you are” in a voice absolutely dopey with affection. But maybe that said it all.

Jason went pink again. “Are you still thirsty?” he asked, suddenly brisk and businesslike. “Or hungry? I stocked the fridge, I could make you something. Or we could call Wally if you want to talk to Lian, or have him bring her home…”

“In a bit,” Roy said, even though he wanted his daughter there because he always did. He wanted to do right by her more, and that meant being able to look after her properly. “I’m gonna have to be back on my feet before Lian comes back, and I want to figure out how long that’s going to be before I ask Wally and Linda to keep watching her when they already have two kids on their hands.”

“I can take care of her,” Jason offered. “I need the practice anyway, right?”

If Roy loved him any harder he was going to sprain something. “You’re too good to me,” he said. Jason opened his mouth, almost certainly to deny it, and Roy shook his head. “Shut up. All I want you to do right now is come here.”

He shifted over carefully and patted the bed next to him. Jason paused, then got up and lay down next to Roy. Roy curled into his warmth as much he could without jarring anything delicate, resting his head on Jason’s broad shoulder and simply basking in this unexpected happiness.

“...Hey,” Jason said after a minute. “You know how I told you not to call me Jaybird?”

“Yeah?”

“Forget I said that, would you?”

Roy turned his head enough to kiss Jason’s shoulder through his sleeve. “Can do, Jaybird. Can do.”

*

Roy walked into the kitchen to find Jason standing at the counter, surrounded by the endless tiny containers that made up Lian’s lunchbox. He pressed up against Jason’s back, chin tucked over his shoulder and arms wrapped around his waist, and felt Jason lean into him.

“Lian go down okay?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, I’d say it was only about a four out of ten on the ‘but I don’t want to go to sleep, I’m not tired’ scale,” Roy said, watching as Jason filled the containers with various goodies and snapped the lids closed. “Hey, I’m gonna go back to Gotham and tell all the street gangs you terrorized that the Red Hood cuts out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the shape of a teddy bear these days.”

He didn’t have to be able to see Jason’s face to know he was rolling his eyes. “Dinah bought the stupid sandwich cutter, not me.”

“Yeah, but you use it.” Roy kissed his cheek. “What a sap.”

Jason put the last of the containers inside the lunchbox and closed it. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like the idea of sparring as foreplay,” Roy said, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

Jason turned around and grabbed a fistful of Roy’s hair, tight enough to hold him in place without actually hurting, and gave him a firm kiss. Roy melted into it, content to let Jason control the pace of things.

“Maybe tomorrow when Lian’s at school, if you play your cards right,” Jason murmured as he pulled away.

Roy’s hands slid down Jason’s back, and lower. “Mm, how about I play them into an early bedtime for us?”

“You think you can be quiet?”

“You think you can?”

Jason huffed a laugh against Roy’s cheek. “I’ll clean up in here.”

“I’ll make the rounds,” Roy agreed, and gave Jason one last kiss before releasing his very satisfying handful and walking away.

Their house in DC was smaller in square footage than Jason’s penthouse had been, and nowhere near as ritzy, but Roy loved it. There was a workshop for his arrows, and a backyard for Lian to tear around in, and yes, still enough space for the ridiculously enormous bed Jason had bought him.

Most of all, there was Jason. Grim, broody, angry Jason, brightening like the dawn away from the foreboding gargoyles of Gotham and all the complicated history that lay beneath them. Stunning, brilliant Jason making Lian laugh and teasing Roy and helping to unpack the boxes that were still somehow scattered around the house after a month of living there.

It had only been a month. They were still figuring it out. But Roy was going to do whatever it took to make this work.

After all their combined years as vigilantes, they were predictably paranoid about keeping the doors and windows locked at all times, but Roy checked them all anyway, turning out lights and gathering up Lian’s stray belongings as he went. He looked in on her on his way to his and Jason’s bedroom; she was curled around her stuffed fox, fast asleep.

Jason had beaten him to their room and was already down to his underwear. Roy grinned. “Impatient?”

Jason shrugged. “Why waste time? Besides, if I let you undress me you’ll just leave everything on the floor.”

“I move in with the boy of my dreams and he turns into a nag,” Roy sighed dramatically, pulling Jason in for a kiss.

“Please, like you don’t love it.” Jason’s hands were already working at Roy’s fly.

The truth was, he did love it. Jason’s penthouse had been empty and austere, like he hadn’t cared enough to fill the space with anything but the necessities. But he wanted their home to be nice, and Roy loved that Jason cared so much, even if he thought spending the night on the floor wouldn’t do his dirty clothes any harm.

“I love you,” he said by way of agreement, catching Jason’s mouth in another kiss.

Jason just leaned into him, one big callused hand sliding into Roy’s underwear. He didn’t say it back very often, and when he did, he said it quietly.

But Roy was learning all the ways he said it without words: When he fussed at Roy to eat. When he talked through Roy’s work cases with him and patched up the injuries he sustained on the job, and let Roy patch him up in return after patrol. When he’d followed Roy two hundred miles away from the city he’d been born in.

And now, the way he looked at Roy when he tugged his shirt over his head and pushed him gently onto the bed. The way he climbed on after him, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss Roy’s mouth, his cheek, his jaw.

Roy reached up and sank his fingers into those thick, beautiful curls. The shape of Jason’s eyes hadn’t changed, but they didn’t look sad to Roy anymore. They looked just the way they were supposed to be.

Even after all this time, Jason went a little pink and turned away. “Quit looking at me like that.”

“You first,” Roy said, smiling.

At that, Jason turned back to him, bending to kiss him, letting his body weight sink down until he was warm and heavy on top of Roy. Miles of bare, scarred skin, and all Roy’s to love as much as he wanted, without worrying that letting Jason know how much he meant would scare Jason away. That heavy, breathing weight was a promise: Jason was here. Jason was real. Jason would stay.

“Never,” Jason said.

And Roy believed him.

Notes:

They did it! They used their words! I'm so proud of them.

Thank you to everyone for reading, commenting, insulting these two doofuses every week, etc. Your feedback means the world to me. <3

Notes:

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Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Love for Sale