Chapter Text
Jason could pinpoint at least a dozen different unpredicted points of failure that all contributed to the absolute fucking disaster this night had become. His first mistake was thinking he could get the night off while on semi-decent terms with the rest of the Bats. At the very least, they weren’t chasing him out of town the moment his head popped up, and he’d been oh-so-graciously allowed to stick around mostly undisturbed for a few months now.
The next thing was that, apparently, all the frequently-out-of-town bats and birds had coincidentally ended up in Gotham on the same night. Ostensibly, this should mean that they didn’t need Jason, because there was more than enough hands on deck to handle it themselves, but noooo. Alfred had suggested they celebrate with a “Family-Slash-Miscellaneous Patrol Night” on what was generally anticipated to be a pretty slow night. Inasmuch as Gotham had those. Jason would have ignored it and apologized later claiming he hadn’t seen the message, but Nightwing had decided to sweeten the pot with the next point:
Roy was in town, and somehow Dick had talked him to joining them as well.
Jason hadn’t seen Roy since he’d passed on his intel about Lian and, while Jason would never admit it out loud, he’d missed the archer in the time since. Of course, he lied and told himself it was enough to know that Roy was alive again and relatively safe with his family but, really? It wasn’t.
On the other hand, Jason had already dressed himself for a night in by the time he’d bothered to answer Dick’s calls, and he hadn’t really wanted to turn around and have to take all of it off in exchange for something more… practical. But it was supposed to be a slow night anyways, so he did what he never did and just wore it under his uniform instead.
Huge fucking mistake.
Despite using Roy as the bait to get Jason to agree in the first place, Dick had promptly kidnapped the other former-Titan to be his own patrol buddy while Jason looked on with slightly annoyed confusion and Roy rolled his eyes with wry amusement back at him. The Batgirls paired off and ditched before Jason could try and peel off with them. Tim and Duke had some kind of joint project and couldn’t be separated. Luke and Kate either hadn’t shown or hadn’t been invited at all…
That left Jason with Bruce and Damian, which was a powderkeg catastrophe waiting to happen.
The final nail in Jason’s proverbial second coffin was a new weapons manufacturer smuggling some tricked out knives made up of their own new superalloy that was ostensibly designed to cut through the same styles of armored fabrics and kevlar-weave popularly worn by the capes that weren’t able to rely on superpowers to keep them from getting stabbed. They’d mass-manufactured what otherwise looked to be cheap knives and selling them at what had to be a loss to petty criminals so they could go forth and test how effective they were in action.
Which was pretty fucking effective, as it turned out.
He’d gotten between he goon and Robin’s relative lack of armor and gotten nicked and bitched at for the effort. The cut had been a decent, but shallow, swipe along the side of his lower ribs where it was flexible enough to maintain mobility, and he’d been lucky enough to duck away and out of sight long enough to get a decent field dressing on underneath the armor without anyone knowing anything was different about his kit that night. Batman and Robin handled the rest of the goons with extreme prejudice and nearly no other injuries. None worth getting too fussy about at least.
The complications, of course, came after.
“Red Hood’s injured, we’re heading back to the cave for treatment and so Robin and I can get the material of the weapon and its origins studied better.”
“Oh, fuck no.” Jason growled. There was no chance in hell he was risking Alfred seeing him like this, let alone anyone else
A muscle in the corner of Bruce’s jaw twitched. “You’re injured. We’ll handle it at the cave.”
“And I’m saying no,” Jason shuts that down firmly, ignoring Damian’s glare and continuing before he opens his mouth. “It’s barely a scratch, I can handle it myself. I’m not fucking incompetent.”
A sigh makes itself audible across the comms. A moment later, Tim is saying “Hood-”
“Don’t.”
Jason glares Batman down while the comms devolve into chatter arguing whether or not Jason should be allowed to go home or if they should stick to protocol and drag him back. Jason notes with mild interest that it sounded like Duke and Stephanie were pretty much on his side about it being his business if he didn’t want to go to the cave, while Tim and Damian insisted on protocol. Cass probably wasn’t invested enough in either answer and abstained, whereas Dick was suspiciously silent on the matter.
Of course, that mystery was solved soon after he noticed.
Roy’s voice cut across the roof at the same time as the soft thud of his arrival, breaking up both the tense standoff and the argument on comms. “I’ll take care of him.”
His first instinct was relief; Roy was there, Roy would take care of it.
His second thought was dread. There was no way Jason was going to shake Roy off to handle this alone, and with his dignity intact.
Roy throws an arm across Jason’s shoulders, angling himself slightly in front of Jason while staring Bruce down with cold, flinty eyes. “I’ve put Jay back together often enough, haven’t I? He’ll be fine.”
It occurs to Jason that he doesn’t know whether or not Roy’d seen Bruce since that time he’d pried Jason’s battered body from Bruce’s bloody, unforgiving hands. That could cause all of this to devolve into a worse fight, but he wasn’t sure if he cared enough to stop it. The idea of someone standing up for him fascinated him in an abstract way he wasn't used to.
Nightwing arrived just after, half pouting and resigned. “If it’s bad enough, Arsenal can redirect them to Leslie, right? Then it works out for everyone.”
They wouldn’t. Jason knew injuries more than well enough when they were on his own body — he’s had plenty. He might not always be honest about them to everyone else, but he knew how to evaluate himself.
“Sure,” Roy says with a grin, his level of insincerity could be counted by how many teeth he flashed. He’d probably go through Lupe first for one of Jason’s more private contacts if it really came down to it.
They don’t call him out on the lie. Batman grunts his assent and grapples off with Robin close behind him. Nightwing gives Jason & Roy a brief, calculating look before excusing himself to handle the arrest of the robbers and discuss with the GCPD what they needed to interview them about.
When Roy pulls away, it feels reluctant. He hip checks Jason lightly before he goes, and says, “Come on, partner, lets head in.”
It took everything in Jason not to crumple at those words. They weren’t partners. They hadn’t been for some time and it was all Jason’s choices that had led to that. He’d left and he’d lost Roy and it still hurt, like an untreated wound left to fester and pus, even with the man close enough to touch.
The edges of misery compound with his stress and he’s silent the entire way back to his apartment. He knows he’s not exactly filling Roy with any confidence about his well-being that way, but he’s just so ready for it to be over already so he can nurse the inevitable shame and embarrassment in peace.
By the time they’re both inside, Jason can feel his filter snap. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine.”
Roy made a loud, offended noise in the back of his throat. “Like hell I’d just go, Jay. I don’t like you bleeding out and dealing with shit alone when I’m not around, I’m not going to let it happen when I am.”
“I don’t need help,” Jason bit out, trying to summon that same faux-anger and coolness he’d used to walk away from Roy in the first place. The instinct to hurt and hide rearing up it’s old head.
Something in his tone or posture must have given him away though, because he hadn’t even taken off his mask or hood but somehow this man just knew him in ways his own family didn’t care to. Roy studies him like something to be cared for, and his whole demeanor softens. “I know you don’t, Jaybird. But it’d be easier, wouldn’t it? They got you in an awkward spot, and I’m just here to help.”
He steps closer, and reaches out, his hands easily finding the lock mechanisms on his mask and pulling everything away, to reveal Jason’s beet-red expression. At least, he supposes, it matches his uniform.
A moment of surprise flashes across Roy’s face, morphing into delight. “Jaybird… are you embarrassed?” Roy’s laughter usually felt good to hear – a spot of bright, welcome delight in Jason’s day-to-day life – but tonight it made his stomach churn with mixed emotions. “It’s just a scratch, isn’t it? Come on, even the big, bad Red Hood isn’t immune to someone getting a lucky hit every once in a while.”
“That’s not-” Jason starts, cuts himself off. He didn’t want to say it. It was stupid, and Roy wasn’t even the first to know but it felt like a hell of a lot more for him to know then the last few who’d discovered his little hobby of sorts.
This was Roy, and maybe it just meant something to Jason for him to have a specific opinion of it. An opinion that was never going to happen.
Resignation settles in. What else could he do?
In the corner of his vision, he can see Roy’s smile turn triumphant and he turns to head towards the kitchen cabinets to grab Jason’s kit and drop the hood down on the counter along the way. “Don’t worry, Jay, I’ll kiss it better and I won’t even think any less of you for it. What else are good friends for?”
Right.
Friends.
As awkward as this would be, Roy has seen worse of him. It would be fine and normal and they’ll still be friends, because Roy’s too good for him but never fails to stick around despite how little Jason really deserves it.
It’s not stalling, he tells himself, when Jason turns to make sure their entry was fully closed, curtains drawn, and the security set. It’s not stalling when he wanders over to the couch, fumbling with the buckles of his suit’s padded armor with trembling hands. Roy doesn’t comment on them when he comes back over, setting the medical supplies on the coffee table and immediately turning to help him with them.
“Don’t-” Jason starts, throat tight despite being down to just his compression undershirt. He’s not sure what he wants to say, even with as open and encouraging as Roy’s expression looked. Patiently waiting for him to go on. In the end, all the can manage is a strangled noise in his throat before suddenly ripping the top off, like a band aid, and avoids looking at Roy’s face.
For a long moment, neither of them say anything.
Time stretches between them, uncomfortable and uncertain. Jason’s not sure how long it takes for him to dredge up the willpower to look over at Roy and figure out what was wrong, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it when he did.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think the man was literally frozen, staring at Jason with wide-eyes in a face that was otherwise blank of expression. Self-consciously, Jason frowned, shifting awkwardly and looking down at himself.
Jason’s secret, of a sort, was a set of forest green lingerie trimmed with black bows. This particular one had come with a lace balconette bra, garter belt, and panties that he’d matched with a set of similarly-colored silk stockings he’d already had. Of course, with his pants on only the first two were visible above the waistband, and the bottom part of the field dressing he’d put on earlier was tucked up under the belt on that side.
Jason’s movements seemed to snap Roy out of his stupor, and he plastered on an obviously forced smile and cleared his throat. Three times. “Uh, right, you can-” He clears his throat again. “Sit down, I guess? I need to get the, uh, stuff out really quick.”
He wasn't sure what to do with Roy's apparent non-reaction, so he just sat at the edge of the couch and watched him sift through the kit for gloves, disinfectant, fresh bandages, and a suture kit. He stares at the supplies in his hands for a brief moment before breathing in deep, visibly steeling himself before joining Jason on the couch & dropping the supplies between them.
Roy’s eyes determinedly don't look at Jason while he tears open the sterile packet of gloves and pulls them on. His hands don't shake when they reach out, gently pulling the garter belt away from the dressing, applying the solvent gel around the edges, and peeling it off.
The field dressing did its work, and there was no bleeding, but the compounds would have to be removed to clean the wound and stitch it, if necessary. Which it seemed like it would be.
Jason looks away while Roy works, eventually finding his voice to ask “Not gonna say anything?”
Roy's hands pause, and Jason feels his gaze linger on the side of Jason's face for a moment before dropping back down to his work. “Looks nice,” he says, his voice a bit rough. “Don't remember you wearing anything this fancy back when we lived together.”
Nice, ha. That's definitely what he wanted to hear. He'd only been pining about Roy for who-the-hell-knows-how-long, and he's wearing lingerie, and the guy says he looks nice. Jesus fuck.
But, he reminds himself, they were just friends.
“I didn't,” Jason agreed, swallowing down his disappointment. At the very least, he could try to relax by treating it like explaining just any old hobby he might have picked up. “I only, uh, keep ‘em here. ‘Cause the girls at Lupe’s kind of… started it.”
“The burlesque dancers?” Roy snorts with amusement while carefully cleaning the wound. “How'd they start it? Accosted you with lacy underwear and said you'd look drop-dead gorgeous in it until you gave in?”
Jason feels his face flush and the warmth of Roy's breath against his bare side. “Not exactly,” he says, voice strangled. “Guess they saw me looking too hard at some of their costumes more than the rest of the show. Gave advice for the kinda places I could get some that fit even me if I wanted some.”
They'd taken one look at him and decided it was their job to take him under their neon-feathered costume wings to keep him out of the wrong crowds back when he was still actively taking over & running a decent portion of Gotham’s underground. Of course, the “Girls” didn't know that. They were just the regular crowd of drag queens that preformed at Lupe's bar, and she was the only one that knew who Jason was.
Somehow, they'd clocked immediately that he wasn't actually old enough to be there, despite his very convincing fake. They could have gotten him kicked out, but had, for some reason, decided instead that they liked him. It had been surreal, and sometimes patronizing, but oddly kind of nice.
Roy hums, “So they know.”
“Eeeh, suspect, probably.” He shrugs a little, trying not to move too much or give away his growing arousal. He hadn’t mentioned to anyone from the club that he’d followed through with any of their advice. “Kori knows.”
She'd taken Jason's open invitation at the worst possible time, and he'd been frozen, terrified until she'd swooped in close for a hug and gushed about how great he looked. It rapidly moved on to her asking if he knew where she could get some as well, since many retailers did not quite accommodate her well-above-human-average size and she felt that her wardrobe for such things was lacking.
Eddie and Rose knew too, having snooped through his dresser and trying to interrogate him about the lingerie, thinking it meant that he'd been hiding juicy details about his mysterious-but-actually-nonexistent love life. They'd taken it… Well. Which is to say Eddie was a bit confused at first until Rose had looked contemplative in a way that had made him turn impossibly redder than usual and Jason ended up laughing as his friend tried to insist he didn't have the body for that kind of thing.
“Bet she had fun with that,” Roy breathes. He swallows, raising his voice so it was a more normal volume. “Relax for me.”
Jason closed his eyes, breathing slowly while Roy began to stitch.
“So is this what you usually wear underneath, now?”
Jason hummed, letting the conversation distract him. It was easier to say when he couldn't see the reactions. “No. Wasn't even supposed to go out tonight. I was just gonna make dinner ‘n’ read a book.”
Of course, he had a fair few other plans for the night, just… not ones he was willing to say out loud. To his friend.
“In just this?” Roy asked, laughing incredulously. Which, Jason supposed, was fair. It wasn't exactly the ideal thing to wear unless you wanted to risk a grease burn, but he did think Roy’s voice went higher than it needed to to express that.
“I wear that apron Kori got me, actually.” Roy had been there when she had gotten it as a gag gift, back during their Outlaw days. It was red, with a frilled trim and a side pocked proudly declaring “Kiss the cook!” Jason actually kind of liked it because most aprons tended to have the pockets all the way in front, and it always seemed less convenient to him.
The hands applying the bandage to Jason's waist faltered.
“Jesus, Jaybird,” Roy said, groaning breathlessly. He finished smoothing the edges before his hands disappeared entirely. “Do you really not have any idea what you're doing to me?” The question came out almost in a whimper.
Jason blinked his eyes open in surprise, finally making himself actually look at Roy. When he did, he saw the other man had sat up and slumped back against the couch with his eyes closed and head tipped back. A bright flush crested the freckles on his cheeks and his breathing fast, and his still-gloved hands formed fists resting atop his thighs as if restraining himself from reaching back out.
That-
That, hm. Oh.
So much for, ah, just “friends,” then?
Not that he was complaining if- if Roy wanted to…
Jason would admit that he wasn't always the sharpest when it came to recognizing when people were attracted to him. He wasn’t usually looking for for them to be and, to be honest, he knew himself too well to understand why people would. Sure, people who didn’t know him might think he looked good but, someone who actually knew him? Most of the people he’d dated or almost-dated barely knew him when they got together, and had grown more into the “just friends” territory over time. He didn’t mind it – he liked them better that way too – it just meant that he didn’t expect much else.
And Roy? Roy probably knew him better than all the others ever had, through a mixture of Jason's comfort and his own preexisting knowledge and general perceptiveness and just plain getting it. It was no small part in why Jason had fallen for him (childhood crush and the fact that the man hadn’t exactly gotten any less hot with fatherhood and age notwithstanding) and why he was so sure it wouldn’t ever be more.
Of course, he could be misreading this. He wanted enough that…
Deliberately, he averts his eyes again. They were both still in cups, so despite his almost reflexive glance to see if Roy was as affected as he was, it’s not like he could actually tell. But… the groaning and the blush and everything else…
Oh, fuck it.
Jason averts his eyes again and swallows. “If it’s a problem, you could always just… do something back.”
Maybe he should return to supervillainy. He was pretty good at that, in retrospect. Definitely better at it than he was at whatever the fuck that was just now.
Pointedly staring at some random spot on the wall, he mused that maybe he should hang some shelves while listening to the shift and creak of Roy's costume when he turns to look at Jason. Despite his best attempts, he feels his own face start to heat up under the scrutiny.
Jason closes his eyes when he feels Roy’s hand reach out and turn his face towards him. “Jaybird.” The words are breathed against Jason’s lips. “Can you look at me?”
He could. It would be very, very embarrassing at this point, but he could. Roy didn't sound like he was upset with him, and maybe-
With slow reluctance, Jason opened them back up. The first thing he saw was the fond crinkle in the corner of Roy’s eyes when he looked at Jason, and the quirk of a smile hanging onto the edge of Roy’s lips. He was annoyingly attractive like that.
A fond, teasing lilt colored Roy’s voice. “I’m going to ‘do something’ now.”
And then he was kissing Jason.
Now, Jason has read his fair share of romances. While Austen’s were among some of his favorites, he’d definitely picked up more than his fair share of corner store trashy smut novels. They’d once been a guilty pleasure of his father’s, actually, though most people who' seen them on their meager shelves thought they were his mom’s. Willis had always said (well, when Jason was supposed to be asleep or out of earshot) porn felt too impersonal, but that novels focused a lot more on how it felt.
Jason didn’t have any of Willis’ original books. He did, however, manage to find what he was pretty sure were at least some of the same books, based on the covers, and read those. His taste for their more purple prose varied by the day-to-day, if he was being honest, but now that he was finally kissing Roy he thinks that maybe he got what Willis meant by that.
Roy was, unsurprisingly, a fucking phenomenal kisser. Jason had kissed a few people, but admittedly not many overall, and felt foolish, fumbling to keep up and torn between eagerness and inexperience. When Roy pressed inwards, Jason opened for him. When Roy’s hands felt their way down his chest, across the lace and dipping lightly under the bands and feeling along the edges, he pressed into them. When Roy started to pull back, it took the laughter against his lips to bring him back down from his distraction.
“Hey, Jay,” Roy mused aloud, humming thoughtfully. “You know, you’re all dressed up, and I haven’t even got to see all of it, have I? Maybe I need to see the rest so I can tell you how good it really looks.”
Jason didn’t scramble to his feet to shuck his pants off as quickly as he could, but it was a near thing. He did have some restraint. His hands were only marginally less clumsy with opening them than they had been for the rest of his gear, but they did manage it, and that was the more important part. He couldn’t help but release a slight groan once he’d dropped the shorts he’d worn with his cup and it left his dick free enough to strain against the lace.
He hears a soft “fuck” from Roy, and turns back to him.
Roy’s gaze rove him greedily. “Look at you,” He breathes, reaching out for Jason to come closer. He drags his hands around Jason’s hips, carefully avoiding tonight’s injury, and leans forward to kiss the trail of hair along his belly between the garter belt and the top of the panties.
Which, fuck. What was he supposed to do with that? He let his arms curl loosely behind Roy’s head and felt pinned down when Roy looked up to meet his eyes. The bastard’s pleased grin didn’t help.
“Sooo… You’ve already changed your plans once today,” Roy starts. “Think I can convince you to change them some more?”
Jason rolls his eyes, huffing out a laugh and shoving Roy back against the couch. “You know,” He answers, mimicking Roy’s earlier tone while settling himself on the man’s lap. “Somehow your lines are worse than mine, Roy.”
“As long as they work, Jaybird. As long as they work.”