#and trying to look at anything about roy is impossible without fucking jason getting in the way

[authorityproblems]

the temptation… to block the jason todd tag… getting stronger every day

[glass-frogs-and-dragons]

Who would you call if the world was ending?

Prompt 887 by @creativepromptsforwriting (@creativepromptfills xo)

Fandom: DC

Summary: The world is ending and, of all the people he could have called, Jason ends up calling Bruce

Pairing: Jason Todd/ Roy Harper (minor)

Beep beep. Beep beep.

The caller you are trying to reach is occupied or out of service. Please, leave a message.

Beep.

Hey Bruce, It’s… It’s Jason. I’m pretty sure you already know, given that it’s you and all, but… yeah. The world is ending and people are doing jack shit about it! Big surprise there. I… you weren’t the first person I was planning on calling. I mean, you didn’t even make the first fucking ten, but… Look, I didn’t want to tell you about this, but Roy’s also doing it and I suppose I should too. Come clean about shit, I mean, tell you stuff. 

I’m not going to apologise for what I did. We both have different ideas of justice and yeah, I killed, but I killed because those fuckers had too many second chances and didn’t fucking take them. I may have gotten a morbid sorta thrill out of it at first, but I don’t fucking like it. I do it ‘cause it’s what I gotta do now. But, whatever I do, whatever your fucking reasons are not to let me come back home, I’m not the only one at fault here.

Dickface always said that taking care of family is one of the most important things, hypocritical as that may be, and I ain’t gonna be at fault for that. I have taken care of my family as well as I fucking could, and the fact that none of you bats have noticed should give you a hint about the problem, huh? The fact that none of you knew? 

…

Joder, no puedo hacer esto. Esto ha sido un error.

…

I have a husband. I have a daughter too, and they are the best fucking thing to happen to me, possibly in my whole life. I feel the luckiest man to have them, and I honestly don’t fucking get how you could fuck all of us up this badly if this is what having a child feels like. The reason I never told any of you (except for Alfred. You can’t hide secrets from Alfred) is because… well… they’re my family. You would judge and think they’re not enough, or that I’m not enough and drive us apart somehow, even if you don’t mean to.

And that’s without mentioning any bat business.

I- Roy is asking me not to be too mean to you. I guess he’s right, but he can’t really have a full conversation with Ollie without it ending in a screaming match, so who’s winning here?

Okay, he’s telling me now that he can, thank you very much, but Oliver’s a fucking prick so he won’t even try to. And he’s also telling me that daddy issues aren’t a competition, Jaybird. Que se joda.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that… yeah, well, the world is ending and there is nothing Roy or I could do about it. I mean, is there anything anyone can do? Arrows and guns? How the fuck would we be useful? 

I know that if you had actually answered the call, you would be yelling at me about duty and shit; asking me to do the fucking impossible like always. Well, guess fucking what? I am doing my duty to my fucking family because they are the most important to me, and I fucking wonder what-

…

Roy’s telling me to stop fighting with you, and he’s right. It ain’t my business anymore. What you decide to do with your fucking dysfunctional family, leave me out of it. I was just hoping, for their sake… Fuck, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I? But hey, the world is fucking ending, so who cares, right?

I miss my dad, okay? I miss the guy who would take me to museums and watch movies with me and comfort me when I had nightmares. Yeah, he might have kinda sucked at it but at least he was trying and he was there and I thought he might have fucking loved me. Because a parent’s love is meant to be unconditional and maybe the other brats and Dickface miss you as much as… as much as I do. 

You can actually be there for them, make me the guinea pig or whatever.

I wanted… I wanted a home and a family to come back to when the world was crumbling down and mira por dónde, now it is! And… and Roy and Lian and I will stay together as a fucking family until we get pulled under. I called to apologise, but fuck that. I doubt you’re even at home with your kids, so right now I don’t owe jack shit to you because you can’t do the bare fucking minimum to be a father. 

I guess… I guess this is goodbye, then.

Seems fitting that the one chance I get for this you can’t even answer the damn phone.

Goodbye da- Goodbye, Bruce.

____________________________

Unread messages: (1)

From: B stands for Bitch

Come home, Jaylad. The whole family is here. Bring Roy and Lian too, they’ll be safe… Read more

Translations:

Joder, no puedo hacer esto. Esto ha sido un error.→ fuck, I can’t do this. This has been a mistake.

Que se joda→ He can go fuck himself

Mira por dónde→ guess what

[bigskydreaming]

Something else to keep in mind is the way things compound? Like for instance, I’ve seen a mini trend of fics lately focusing on the issue of Dick dropping out of college or not wanting to go, which for the record, I feel is another way of building up to the idea that he and Bruce have all these fights during this period that are two way streets instead of like....what canon actually was (reminder that in the canon that Dick actually dropped out he and Bruce actually were never really NOT on good terms, like there’s never been a big fight in the comics about this topic so.....incheresting).

But anyway, my point is its worth keeping in mind that how you frame something at one point in a narrative like.....ideally, you want it to mesh up and align with other things you’ve brought up throughout the narrative, and not accidentally contradict yourself narratively.

I mean, this is really the big gripe most Dick Grayson fans have with his fanon characterization overall:

The fact that it just doesn’t make sense.

In Jason-centric fics that are after his resurrection, how often is Jason utterly convinced that Dick can’t even wipe his ass without Bruce’s approval? And yet in Jason-centric fics that are before his death, how often is Jason thinking about how Dick and Bruce are constantly fighting and Bruce can’t seem to do anything without Dick objecting? Reconcile these two things. They make no sense.

Same thing with fics that talk about Dick being the emotional glue of the family, the one keeping a cool head to calm down everyone else when they’re all taking shots at each other.....until randomly he just pops off without warning because he’s just that hot-tempered. These things mesh, how?

Same thing with Dick being frequently referenced as idealized by the hero community......but every time he interacts with someone like Roy or Kori or other Titans he can’t seem to avoid pissing them off and creating epic grudges. Make it make sense.

Or how Dick disliked or didn’t care about Jason to the extent that he only references him as a cautionary tale because of one line in canon......but the whole damn story where he kills the Joker because of Jason doesn’t count.

Or how its not okay to blame Dick for his own rapes but both of his major breakups which are intrinsically linked to the actions of his rapists like....were clearly and objectively all his fault somehow.

Dick Grayson fans aren’t on board with most of fanon because you can’t sell people on a constantly conflicting characterization that makes no sense and has no internal consistency.....you can only cater to people who don’t NEED to be sold on that because they’ve already decided they’re down with hating a character or largely ignoring him.

And I think people have gotten so used to not thinking twice about contradictory takes on Dick Grayson that they unintentionally undermine their own fics by contradicting themselves without even realizing it.

Like its ridiculously common to come across fics that reference Dick being beloved and charming everyone at the society galas they all have to go to.....but these fics take pot shots at Dick’s name, fashion, mannerisms etc all throughout it just because the author likes it or fans expect it or whatever reason.

But actually THINK about it:

Think how snobby the socialites at these galas are characterized as being any time its Jason their noses are turned down at.....and then look at like.....the constant jokes you as the author make YOURSELF at Dick’s very name, fashion and circus origins......how on Earth does it make ANY sense that these same people aren’t doing the same damn thing about Dick? That they’re actually any more fond of him than they are Jason, if no matter how charming he might be in the moment, the second he turns around its just as easy and likely for them to make a joke about his circus background or name as it is for writers and readers? If you can’t resist doing it, you really think snobby one percenters would bother in-universe?

Hell, they’d be more likely to hate him BECAUSE of his name, his fashion, etc.....because think of how often people not so subtly infer that he’s making a bad choice when he refuses to go by a different name, or dress more accordingly to normal fashions, etc.....

Dick has a million ways he could more easily fit in with the society he was brought into and ease his passage through it, but he puts his foot down at practically every opportunity. The idea that everybody is just dazzled by him at these galas makes no sense because the most consistent character choice made by Dick throughout the decades is that he refuses to CONFORM to others’ expectations of what he should be like. 

EVERY SINGLE CHOICE he makes from his name to his wardrobe to his costumes to his education to his city to his living arrangements and on and on is in complete and utter DEFIANCE of what people expect of the eldest son or ward of Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, and that’s by Dick’s conscious and consistent choice. He knows damn well how to be more what people want or expect of him, and that’s not what he wants so he says mmmm but also how bout no.

Dick constantly embodies the idea that you can take the boy out of the circus but you can not and will not take the circus out of the boy no matter what environment you place him in or who you surround him with. He will not allow it. He will not play along.

In what universe is that going to endear him to the very people who would most likely view his choice to prioritize the very things they look down upon as something he consciously PREFERS over their projected expectations or assumptions?

Its not.

Personally, I think Gotham high society despises Dick Grayson no matter what they pretend to his face, and he’s perfectly aware of it. And probably gets some kind of trollish glee out of it because fuck them too, anyway.

(And all of that is WITHOUT even taking into account the fact that a good number of the people at these society galas all along were looking at Dick as their future property, given that they were Owl members who knew all along what they intended for their Gray Son. These people simply do not view and treat Dick as an equal. Its impossible. There’s no way).

Or then back to the idea of Bruce and Dick’s fights in his later teenage years being a two way street....

The core problem at the root of all this is the very idea of a two way street implies a certain give and take. A clashing of equals.

And that’s just not the reality in ANY continuity.

Because the question is, in any given fight between Dick and Bruce in ANY canon....

When does Dick ever WIN these fights?

When does Dick get the outcome he wants OVER what Bruce wants? When does Bruce ever cave? When is it NOT Dick leaving the manor without getting what he came for, or even being kicked out? When has Dick ever been able to say no, I’m NOT fired, or no, I’m NOT giving you control over what happens with Robin. Even when he DOES confront Bruce on these matters, Bruce STILL infamously never caves. He never actually apologizes or admits wrongdoing, he still usually tells Dick to leave. Like I said, basically the only time Dick’s ever got the upper hand in an argument was over the college thing and that time it wasn’t even a fight! Bruce didn’t actually care that much! That was the good timeline! LOL.

But there’s never actually a reversal. There’s no real precedent for Bruce caving to a teenage Dick Grayson and saying hey you know what, you’re right here, I’m overstepping or I’m in the wrong or I’m the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about because our divergent life experiences here have mine as less relevant to the issue in question than yours do?

It doesn’t happen.

And here’s the problem with that:

Dick’s a literal genius. Every member of the Batfam is. Its how they’re able to do what they do. They’re ALL smart as fuck, capable as fuck. Put any of them in any other situation where they’re the only Bat present, and everyone usually defaults to them. They know what to do, they know what call to make, their approach is borne out by the narrative as being the correct approach. Their intelligence and strategy is validated by the narrative, with Dick being no exception here. In fact he’s particularly NOTED within canon narratives for being the guy everyone in the DC universe trusts to lead them.

Now.....imagine being this guy, who while although still a teenager, is in his late teens, and has YEARS of leading his own team under his belt. Years of being responsible for the lives of teammates and civilians. Years of becoming aware of and comfortable with his own natural brilliance. Years of becoming confident in being capable of making the right call when the situation demands it. Years of learning to TRUST in his ability to make the right call, to know the right approach, because not only are people relying on him to make those calls, he needs to be able to trust he can make them in order to have the confidence to follow through and DO so instead of being frozen with indecision or trying to pass the decision off to someone else, which he NEVER does?

With all that....and even with all due respect to Bruce’s own genius and experience....

What are the chances that in all the times that Bruce and Dick clash in his late teenage years....

Dick is NEVER right?

And yet.....when in any of these conflicts.....is he ever validated in that, versus shut down by Bruce who insists his way is still right?

Imagine being an acknowledged genius with years of experience and responsibility under your belt, but NEVER getting to be right in any arguments with your father, even when just based off pure freaking statistics, its frankly impossible for you to be 100% wrong EVERY SINGLE TIME?

Do you see where the two way street thing starts to fall apart? How can it truly be a two way street if part of the reason the two of them so often end UP aggressively opposed to each other during this time period.....is because of how many times previous encounters have only ended ONE way no matter WHAT?

It makes sense for Dick and Bruce not to clash as much during their younger years, because even the most stubborn kids do understand on a fundamental level that they have things to learn from more experienced adults. And Dick has never been someone mindlessly predisposed towards conflict. He didn’t become an exceptional acrobat by the age of eight by butting heads with his parents every time they tried to teach him, he couldn’t have. He KNOWS how to listen, he KNOWS how to acknowledge when someone else is right. 

But as he grows older, when he has more and more experience under his belt, more and more confidence in his own insights in large parts thanks to Bruce’s own efforts in buttressing his confidence in his younger years.....what happens when the balance of who is right and who is wrong in their arguments NEVER EVER starts to shift in his direction even a little bit, no matter HOW much more experienced he seems to get....and what happens when communicating this problem, this imbalance, to the person that really matters here, Bruce himself....still inherently requires Bruce accepting blame and acknowledging even just in THIS case, the idea that he’s not always right at this point and Dick has insights that can challenge his?

Of course there’s going to be more and more conflict....but can you truly argue that its a two way street, even just based off THIS? Is the teenage son truly to blame for being frustrated that he’s not allowed to ever be right, because the thing getting in his way is his father never ever being willing to back down or cave or not have the last word?

This is the sort of inherent contradiction I think lies at the heart of a lot of conflicting viewpoints here. It doesn’t matter how much lip service is being paid to the idea that Dick is intelligent, that Dick is respected, if all your content continually bears out the idea that actually no he’s not, because Bruce is always right, Dick never is in the right in arguments or conflicts.

The latter evidence just is not aligning with the former claims, and thus readers are innately forced to make a choice as to which to believe.....and more likely than not, they’re going to err on the side of substantiating whichever stance actually has more narrative support behind it, in any particular story.

See what I’m saying?

You need to make sure your story is ACTUALLY saying what you think you’re saying or you intended to say....or you end up undermining your own intentions.

Anyway. Just throwing that out there. 

[ragingbookdragon]

I Can’t Believe You’re Dating My Best Friend PT. 2

Roy Harper x Batsis Story

Word Count: 3.8 Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence

Author’s Note: Edited and formatted for you guys! Enjoy! -Thorne

*******************************************************************************************

Before she could even respond, the front door slammed shut, echoing through the apartment. “Roy! Where the fuck are you! I know you’re here!”

The two of them glanced towards the door and she muttered, “No, Roy…I don’t think we do.” She shoved at his chest and he set her down, watching as she ran to the door and locked it. Turning back around, her eyes scanned the room.

“What are you doing!” He whispered harshly.

She stopped and stared at him, motioning to the door. “I’m trying to save our asses, you moron!” She pointed to the dresser. “Help me shove it against door!”

They moved to one side, shoving it across the floor to the door all the while listening to Jason stomping around the apartment, throwing open doors. “This apartment smells like my little sister, Roy!” There was a pause. “The longer you hide, the longer I’m gonna bust your ass.”

“He makes me so mad sometimes.” She hissed.

Roy snorted. “Tell me about it.”

(Y/N) looked at him struggling to move the furniture. “It’s times like these that I really wish you’d picked up weight-lifting, Roy.”

“Why’s that?”

She grunted as they shoved the dresser against the door. “‘Cause you’re weak.”

“I am not.” He retorted and (Y/N) stared at him; he scowled. “Alright, I’m not Jason…but I can lift!” She opened her mouth to retort when the doorknob jiggled.

They looked at it then to the door as Jason’s voice filtered through. “Why is this door locked, Roy.”

(Y/N) tipped her head to the door and Roy silently groaned. “I—uh—hang on, Jaybird.”

“Why do I need to hang on Roy?”

“I’m uh…changing!”

“Unlock the door, Roy.”

He turned to (Y/N). “How long is this going to hold?”

She looked around the room, trying to find an escape route. “It’s, uh…gonna hold until he gets mad.” Roy’s mouth opened but then the sound of a shoulder shoving against a door came through. She smiled at him. “He’s mad now.”

Roy’s hands went to his hair and he tugged at his as he plead, “Jaybird! Man! Just chill for a second!”

“I don’t want to chill Roy! I have a very good reason to believe that my SISTER is in there with you!” he growled. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you. I’m going to make you wish—"

Her eye twitched and she turned to the door, unable to hold it any longer. “Oh, will you just fuck off already, Jason!” Roy’s eyes went wide, and the apartment went silent for a few seconds.

“(Y/N)?” Jason asked. “Is that you in there?”

She hurried to the window, undoing the latches. “I am a grown ass woman Jason Todd. I will date whoever I damn well please to.”

This time, they listened to Jason’s foot kick at the door, and they could tell that he was infuriated as it began rattling on its hinges. “I KNEW IT! YOU’RE FUCKING SLEEPING WITH MY LITTLE SISTER ROY! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

Roy contemplated staying at the door for a moment but thought against it and ran over to help (Y/N) shove the window open. “It was an accident, Jaybird! We just happened, man!”

“THE MUDHOLE I’M GOING TO STOMP IN YOUR ASS IS JUST GOING TO HAPPEN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU! SHE’S MY LITTLE SISTER ROY! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

“GROWN WOMAN, JASON! I CAN MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS!”

“STAY OUT OF THIS, (Y/N)!” One final harsh shove from the both of them made the window crack open, just as the door gave way. They turned to see Jason caught between the dresser and the door; he pointed at them and hissed, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

(Y/N) was many things, one of those being a smart-ass and she blew Jason a kiss and grabbed Roy’s hand pulling him to the windowsill. Jason became frantic, trying to shove the dresser away.

Roy looked down at the city below them. “Babe, this is a long way down.”

(Y/N) wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him to her; he wrapped his arm around her in response. “Do you trust me?” Roy tipped his head side-to-side, and she pointed at Jason, who was still shoving the dresser away. “It’s either we take a Hail Mary, or we face the beast.”

Roy looked at Jason who was spitting curses and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I trust you completely.”

She grinned and glanced at Jason. “Love you, Jay!” He gaped at them, his eyes wide, and they jumped, the air ripping wildly as they fell, and they let out screams of ecstatic joy.

“A RESCUE WOULD BE GOOD NOW, BABE!” Roy shouted, eyes widening as the ground got closer and they didn’t seem to be slowing.

(Y/N) pulled out her grapple hook, aiming it at a building. “GOT US COVERED!” She fired and watched it sink into the side of a high-rising building. Their weight hit the line and they swung towards a building; she nodded to the roof of a building. “GET READY TO ROLL WHEN I DISENGAGE THE GRAPPLE!” He threw a thumbs up and she waited until they were a few feet from the building before unhooking.

They fell towards the building and hit it, breaking into rolls. When they came to a full stop, they collapsed onto their backs and laughed; (Y/N) looked over at Roy. “That was fun.”

He chuckled breathlessly and rolled onto to her, pressing his body into hers. “That was awesome!”

She giggled and drew her hands around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His eyes widened split-second before he reacted, one hand cupping her cheek, the other moving to her leg, where he pulled it up and behind his back. (Y/N) raised the other leg, locking her ankles at the base of his spine, pulling his body impossibly closer and he groaned against her, causing her to grin.

“Something wrong, Roy?” she smirked evilly.

His hand moved ever so slightly, and his thumb brushed her lip. “Don’t get me all hot and bothered right now, (Y/N).”

“And why not, Roy?” She purred, squeezing his hips with her thighs as she opened her mouth slightly, tongue pressing against his finger.

He sucked in a sharp breath and glared. “Because we’re on the run from your brother…and it’s not fun to run when you’ve got a boner.”

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SISTER, ROY!” The two of them twisted their heads up, staring up at the window they’d jumped from; Jason was climbing out of it.

“WAIT A SECOND, JAYBIRD! YOU’RE NOT GONNA JUMP, ARE YOU?!” Roy shouted up to him.

The only response they received was the sight of said jump, and they scrambled to their feet, hauling ass over rooftops. (Y/N) was always faster than Roy, so she took the lead, calling over her shoulder. “Is he still on our trail?”

Roy looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening, and he ran faster. “YES!”

“Fuck!” (Y/N) looked around trying to find anything to slow Jason down. “Hey Roy!”

“What babe?”

“You think if I call for Superman, that he’d come for us?”

Roy grunted as he rolled across one of the rooftops, staggering to his feet. “It’s worth a shot!”

(Y/N) looked up at the sky and silently pleaded for Clark to hear her. “SUPERMAN! IT’S BATGIRL! I COULD SERIOUSLY USE YOUR HELP RIGHT ABOUT NOW! LIKE RIGHT NOW!” The next thing she saw was a flash of blue and red, and there in the sky was Superman; she grinned madly and waved at him.

He moved down to her. “Batgirl. I heard your call. What’s the problem?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head. “I need you to get Roy and I to the old movie theater. Now.” Clark’s eyebrows drew together, and he opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about when they heard him.

“YOU CAN RUN! BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE! I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU!”

Clark’s eyes widened and he looked at Jason who was a few rooftops behind them, closing in; (Y/N) became desperate, latching onto his suit. “Please Uncle Clark! If Jason catches us, we’re dead!”

Clark sighed and grabbed (Y/N) and Roy’s collars, picking them up. She breathed a sigh of relief as the distance between them grew and the last thing she saw was Jason cursing at them. Clark flew them to the movie theater where he set them down in front of the doors.

“Would one of you care to explain what this was?” Even Clark was going full dad-mode on them as he crossed his arms.

(Y/N) sighed and jerked her thumb at Roy. “Boyfriend.”

“Oh, Roy…you’re in so much trouble.” He chuckled.

Roy collapsed on the ground, stretching out. “Don’t remind me, Superman.”

“I appreciate the getaway Uncle Clark.” His gaze turned to her and she smiled. “Don’t worry…won’t happen again.”

He smiled and held out his arms; she moved into them, giving him a hug. He back and rose into the air. “Good luck you two!”

They waved him off and (Y/N) looked down at Roy. “We should get to the top of the tower. We’ll be able to see them coming from up there.” Roy nodded and stood up; they grappled their way to the top of the tower and sat down next to each other. (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder, his resting on her head; she sighed and spoke quietly. “I’m sorry about all this, Roy.”

“All what?”

She gestured the symbol on her chest.  “My family…the shit discussions we’re about to partake in.”

Roy snorted. “And by ‘shit discussions’, you really mean ‘ass-kicking’s’?” She nodded and he shrugged. “You’re worth it.”

(Y/N) wasn’t expecting his answer and she moved her head off his shoulder to stare at him. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, ‘You’re worth it’.” (Y/N) felt her cheeks warm and she looked down, mumbling out a small, ‘Oh’; Roy brought his hands up and pushed her cowl back so he could see her face. “(Y/N). Look at me.” She returned her gaze to him and he removed his domino mask, pushing his hair back. “You are without a doubt, the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, (Y/N).”

He gestured to himself. “All the shit I’ve seen, all that I’ve been through, how far I’ve fallen? You’ve never cared about it…you always saw me. Who I am inside, is always what mattered to you. You’ve always been honest with me. Always encouraged me to do the best I could—to be the best I could.”

Roy paused and looked up at her, his gaze heart-filled, as he professed, “I love you, (Y/N) Wayne.” Her eyes went wide at his speech and she simply stared at him, too moved to form words. She watched his face flush a scarlet red and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t leave me hanging, babe.”

(Y/N) shook herself from her stupor and she reached out, winding her arms around his neck, his wound around her waist. “I love you too, Roy Harper.”

His arms tightened around her and they held each other for a few seconds before he muttered, “I still don’t want to get my ass-kicked though.”

She snorted, “And I don’t want to sit through various lectures…but that’s what’s going to happen.”

“What do you think they’re doing right now?”

(Y/N) looked at her arm, tapping on the screen; she could see the texts from her brothers flooding in. “Oh, Jason’s definitely mobilizing the fleet.”

“Can’t wait.” Roy griped, obviously resigned to his fate.

***

After a couple hours of talking and most importantly waiting, (Y/N) happened to look down, eyes widening at the sight; she tapped Roy on the arm repeatedly. “Roy. Roy.”

He moved his hat from his face, blinking away the sleep as he mumbled, “What?”

“They’re here.” (Y/N) and Roy stared below, seeing her brothers walking along the ground, staring right back at them. She inhaled deeply, looking to Roy. “Ready to pay the piper?”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Ready and willing (Y/N).” She gave him a smile and they rose; she connected a line to the ground, and they slid down, coming face-to-face with four furious siblings.

“Stay behind me.” (Y/N) warned him quietly and she heard a scoff.

“Rather emasculating for me to not protect you, (Y/N).”

She glanced back at him and blinked. “If you want to be a punching bag so quickly, jackass…be my guest.” Roy opened his mouth, then closed it and she huffed a laugh. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” (Y/N) turned back to her brothers. “Can I help you, boys?”

Jason and Dick stood in front of Tim and Damian; Dick pointed at Roy. “We need to have a chat with Roy.”

“How ‘bout no?” she taunted.

Jason took a warning step towards them. “(Y/N). Get out of the way.”

She shifted her feet, drawing a defensive stance and she saw the way his eyes widened ever so slightly over the action of readying to fight him. “You want Roy?” she tipped her head up and dared, “Then you’ve gotta come through me first.” She slung one of her hands down and a blade appeared. “And I’m prepared to make it hurt.”

“Sister, you cannot be serious!” Damian spat, though he was already drawing his sword, knowing a fight was coming.

“As a heart attack, Damian.” She smiled.

Tim held out a hand for them to wait. “We just want to talk to Roy, (Y/N).”

“No, you don’t Tim.” She barked. “You guys want to beat him to bloody pulp because we’re dating.”

Jason started walking towards them, cracking his knuckles. “Alright, this is bullshit and I’m done negotiating.” He pointed at Roy. “I’m gonna fucking murder you with your own bow.”

The others started following him and she said, “Roy, I hope you remember how to fight.”

“I can handle myself, babe.” He retorted, nocking an arrow back.

Her brothers were close now and she activated her gloves, feeling the electricity flow through them. “Then get ready.” The two parties stared each other down, now within kicking distance.

“One last chance, Roy.” Jason offered. “You can come with us quietly for a few hours.”

Roy moved beside her, his arms readied, and he grinned at Jason. “I’ll take my chances with my girl. She’s a much better fighter than you are.”

(Y/N) watched fire burn in Jason’s eyes and he leapt forward; she moved to block Jason, but Dick came at her from the side, and she found herself focusing on him too. Tim and Damian circled around, focusing on Roy, and they two of them stood back-to-back.

No one knew who made the first move, but blows came from every direction. The fight was brutal, even between siblings, and when (Y/N) landed her blows, she made them hurt. At some point, they’d switched combatants, and she found herself fighting her younger brothers.

She blocked the Bo-staff, shoving off Damian’s foot as she shouted, “Will you two just listen to me!”

“No! You are dating that imbecilic redneck!”

“Doesn’t matter who or what Roy is!” She felt them come at her again, and she twisted, gripping their collars, slinging them down before standing above them. “I’m happy with him!” Damian started moving to his feet, and she put her fist in his face, the electricity crackling. He gaped at her and she commanded darkly, “Stay down or I’ll put you down.” His hands raised in surrender and she rose, running to find Roy and her two older brothers.

And find them, she did. Roy stood between them, dodging as much as he could, but he didn’t have Jason and Dick’s training. When he’d dodge a kick from one, a punch would hit from the other, and so forth. Eventually, it became too much for Roy and he collapsed; Jason didn’t waste a second, dropping down and laying into Roy. Her feet moved faster, and she sprinted to them; she could hear every word that Jason let out as he brought down his fists.

“MY SISTER, ROY!” Punch. “MY LITTLE—” Punch. “SISTER!” Punch. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

Roy raised his hands to block, but it didn’t do much against Jason’s fierce onslaught. “I LOVE YOUR SISTER, JASON!”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT LOVE! SHE’S. MY. SISTER!”

Dick saw her coming and stood in her way. Asshat. She thought and ran until she was just in front of him, suddenly dropping down to the ground when he tried to grab her. (Y/N) slid between his legs and shot her fist up as hard as she could on her way under. He dropped holding his groin and she rolled to her feet. (Y/N) got to Jason just as his fist was coming down and she yelled, barreling into him.

The two of them went tumbling to the ground and she reached up, ripping off his hood before bringing her fists down in a righteous fury, angered words spitting from her. “I AM A GROWN WOMAN! I CAN DATE WHOEVER I WANT! I DON’T NEED YOUR APPROVAL, JASON!” Jason didn’t fight; he just blocked her hits and she felt someone curl their arms under her armpits.

She reached back to start swinging on whoever was holding her and she heard a panicked yell. “Babe! It’s me! Stop!” (Y/N) realized it was Roy and she dropped her hands, allowing him to pull her from Jason.

The two of them collapsed onto the ground, her back against his chest, his arms secured around her waist; they let out groans and she craned her neck to look at him. Her eyes widened and she shut off her gloves, moving her hands to Roy’s face. “Oh my god. Roy…”

His left eye was beginning to swell shut, his lower lip was busted, as was his left eyebrow, and blood ran down his nose; he shook his head. “Looks worse than it actually is.”

(Y/N) let out a laugh and reached into her utility belt, pulling out a rag and some antiseptic; she wet the rag and started to clean his wounds, whispering to him as she did. “I’m sorry, Roy…I’m so sorry.”

He merely smiled at her and pressed his forehead to hers. “I already told you, (Y/N) …you’re worth it.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that you have a busted lip and eyebrow.” He shrugged and she let out a laugh before pulling away and continuing to clean his face. When she was done, she rose to her feet, pulling him up with her; they turned and faced her brothers, who sported injuries of their own. She tipped her head at them. “Are we good now?”

Jason moved forward. “Hardly.” He pointed at Roy. “You’re dead to me.” Then he pointed at her. “And you. I can’t believe you’re dating my best friend behind my back.”

(Y/N) had only seen Roy get furious a handful of times…but now? He blew up; he stomped up to Jason, going head-to-head with him. “Look, you want to be pissy that I’m dating your sister, Jason? Fine. Be mad. It doesn’t take any skin off my back and I don’t care.” He pointed at (Y/N). “But don’t you dare take it out on her.”

Jason flinched ever so slightly at his anger, but Roy continued. “She’s a grown woman who’s allowed to do whatever the hell she wants…with or without your help and approval.” He stopped, moving back to (Y/N) and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Look Jason, I’ll apologize for breaking bro-code and dating your sister, but I love (Y/N). And I want to be with her.” He paused and looked down at her, confessing, “I want to make her happy.”

(Y/N) felt tears start to come up and Roy turned back to Jason. “And if it pisses you off that I’m dating her? Fine. I can live with that. But be happy that she’s happy.”

The two of them stated each other down for a few seconds before Jason eyed her. “…Are you happy, (Y/N)?”

She glanced down at their joined hands then back at Jason, nodding. “More than I could ever hope to be.”

Jason went silent, then sighed. “…Fine…you win.”

The two of them let out relieved sighs and Roy pulled her in for a hug, burying his face in her neck. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Roy.” They pulled away and gazed at each other, then they heard dramatic coughing. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and glanced at her brothers. “Can I help you guys with something?”

“Yeah…how ‘bout you guys don’t make out in front of us.”

(Y/N) put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at Dick. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please Richard John Grayson.”

She felt Roy’s hand rub circles in her back. “Easy babe…we just got finished tangling.”

(Y/N) grunted and he nudged her, tipping his head to them; she sighed. “I guess I owe you guys an apology…mainly Dick and Jason.” She paused and looked at them, moving to stand in front of them. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about me and Roy. I just…knew how we’d all react to it and…wanted to avoid it. Can you forgive me?” Dick, Tim, and Damian nodded, though Damian still glared at Roy.

Jason, however, didn’t say anything and she sighed. “Jason.” He didn’t look at her and she grinned. “Jay.” Still nothing. “Brother Bear.” The corner of his mouth rose, and she giggled. “C’mon, Brother Bear…you can’t stay mad at me.”

He finally looked down at her. “Wanna bet?”

“I beat you all at poker every time we play…so…” (Y/N) shrugged.

Jason huffed a laugh and opened his arms. “Come here, you little shit.” (Y/N) moved into his arms and they hugged it out; he whispered to her. “I’m still not overly happy with this situation. Or the lying.”

“Give it time, Jason.” She took his hand. “I truly love him…I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t.” They stared at each other for a few seconds before nodding and she moved back to Roy. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she motioned back to the city. “So…there’s a Big Belly Burger like four blocks from here…wanna hit it up?”

They all looked at each other before shrugging, walking off in the direction of the fast-food joint. As they sat in the largest booth, chowing down on burgers, French fries, and milkshakes, Jason looked at them, motioning them with a French fry. “Have you guys told B yet?”

(Y/N) and Roy stopped, mid-bite and looked at each other, simultaneously blurting, “OH FUCK!”

[badacts]

savouring

@doc-squash made a thing, and then it inspired me to make this thing. it’s like the circle of life, except for fandom

“This is a real novel moment for me,” Hood says. “I’m savouring it.”

“Savour it quietly,” Bruce replies. They’re here for a purpose, and he may not mind it in the strictest sense, but the GCPD lockup is not the place or time for Jason’s irreverent humour.

Dick, at the same time, says, “Savouring what?” 

“Being here with you two and not being in handcuffs,” Jason replies at full volume, as though Bruce didn’t say anything. 

The others would probably snap and snarl at that insouciant reminder. Dick, proving himself, as ever, the most mild-mannered of Bruce’s children, chuckles. “Congrats, Little Wing. Hey, did I tell you about Roy and Donna?”

“What about them?” Jason says. His mask gleams under the bare overhead lightbulbs.

“Traitor,” someone hisses. The cells down here are an echo of Gotham’s greater architecture, all shadows and stone. Sound carries oddly, making it difficult to pin down the source.

Neither of the boys seems to notice, caught up in their conversation. It’s a ruse, but a skilled one. Nightwing and Red Hood are excellent listeners, but Jason Todd and Dick Grayson started young at the art of pretending like they didn’t hear anything even when listening intently.

“Bats neutered you, huh?” comes the voice again, “Big bad Hood, crawling back for forgiveness. Was the grudge all for show?”

“So then Roy tackled her to the ground,” Dick is saying, voice bright with the joy of a good story. Born entertainer, that one.

“You’d think he has a deathwish,” Jason remarks. “So, did she turn him inside out? Is he dead now?”

“You’re pathetic,” the stranger third voice says. “You’re fucking pathetic! You’re not worth shit!”

“The rules were no powers and no contact,” Dick says, “But he already broke the ‘no contact’ rule, so she just went for broke and bit him.”

“She plays dirty with the best of them.” Jason sounds admiring. Bruce suddenly and distinctly remembers the crush Jason had on the older girl when he was fourteen.

“Throwing in the towel for those psychos? You could have had something great, you could have done something for this town, but no. You had to go running back to that bat-eared fuck and fucking Nightwing.”

There’s a shift. Jason bristles, shoulders pulling square. His steps slow.

“Hey,” Dick says, tone softening, “Doesn’t bother me. Swear.”

For a second, it looks like it might end there. Then, “Did Batman make you beg on bended knee to take you back? Wait, just one, or both? He looks like the type.”

“Easy, Hood,” Bruce says. He’s heard it all before. “It’s okay.”

Jason moves. He’s not Nightwing, not Batman - he’s all his own, inexorable. He veers to the left and down a cell, boots silent on the floor. Quick as a snake, he reaches into the next cell along, reeling in a thrashing man in an orange jumpsuit like a fish on a line.

“If you have a problem with me,” Jason hisses, jerking the man forward so they’re nose-to-nose - or nose-to-mask - through the bars, “then keep it with me.”

Then he headbutts him. There’s a distinctive crack of bone and cartilage being forcibly rearranged and a bright burst of blood, and the guy on the inside of the cell goes pinwheeling back with a nasal, “Urk!”

He slumps down on the floor of his cell, dazed. Jason adds, “Asshole.”

Bruce sighs.

It’s impossible to know what expression Jason is wearing under the mask, but his tone is telling when he says, “What? I could have done worse,” as defensive as the thirteen-year-old Bruce first brought home.

“You also could have done nothing,” Bruce says, because it’s true. He keeps his voice mild, because he doesn’t really want to have a fight over this, and nothing starts a fight quicker than Jason thinking Bruce is judging him.

Jason shrugs. “Meh.”

“Wow, Hood,” Dick says from where he’s crouched down to peer at Jason’s victim. He sounds unconcerned. “This is a red-letter day.”

Jason, almost imperceptibly, bristles up again like a startled cat. Without Bruce’s immediate anger, he’s probably expecting to be praised in Dick’s usual effusive, warming way, the kind that makes most of the others squirm in place when they find themselves hopelessly unprepared for that degree of positive emotion exerted on them. 

Bruce, who reacts the same way, had absolutely no way to prepare his younger children for the effects his eldest has on them.

Dick looks up. He’s grinning under his domino. “Someone gets headbutted by you, and for once it’s not me.”

The tension goes out of Jason immediately. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

“Anyway, where was I?” Dick asks, straightening up.

“Donna bit Roy,” Jason prompts. No one would ever describe him as easily led, but he fits himself happily under Dick’s arm and back into their procession.

“Oh yeah!” Dick falls back into the story like nothing happened. Where he had the idea of basketball as team training, Bruce truly has no clue. 

His boys. He was hardly a father at all when the two of them came into his life: he let Dick teach him how to be a parent by example, and then abruptly had to try teach Jason how to be a kid. Practice makes, if not perfect, at least something a hell of a lot better than he was in his twenties. That’s why Dick is here smiling and telling a story, and why Jason is here at all.

Jason, who he thought he had ruined. No, he hadn’t thought it - he’d been terrified, bone deep, that he’d ruined him. And now here’s Jason at twenty-four, who doesn’t care what a stranger says about him, but who can’t stand to hear a word against them. Against his family.

That’s my boy, Bruce thinks, and only doesn’t smile because he’s in the cowl.

[secondgenerationnerd]

Liar

Based off this fic idea I had! Enjoy!

—————

“Morning, pum’kin,” Roy Harper hands his 16 year old daughter a cup of coffee as she comes into the kitchen. Just like him and her mother, Lian’s a zombie before coffee, “How’d you sleep?”

“Not great.” Lian pops a blueberry bagel into the toaster, yawning. “I keep having this weird nightmare.”

“Need to talk about it?”

“Not much to really say.” She shrugs.

“Humor your old man.”

Lian rolls her eyes but turns to lean against the counter, “I’m at our old house. I’m little again and Aunt Donna just left. The house starts shaking and things start falling. I’m running and I’m trying to get out.”

If Lian looked at her father at that moment, she would see the pure devestation on his face. Instead she focuses on her coffee and continues.

“I’m screaming for help, for you to save me. For Mom. A huge clump of the ceiling hits my head and I’m bleeding. I’m trying to find my way out and just before I wake up, I always say ‘Daddy, help me!’” Lian grabs her bagel as it pops out. Roy takes the moment to set his face. “Weird, right?”

“Yeah...Weird.” Roy sips his coffee. “Honey, you’re still coming home before you head to the tower right?”

Lian nods, swallowing her food, “Waiting to get a few emails from Jenn and ‘Nissa on a case.”

“What case?” It’s easy for Roy to change the subject. He’s basically a pro at this point after all they’ve gone through with her mother. Redirect the hurt. Don’t let her mind dwell too long in one spot. As Lian grabs her school bag, he pulls her in for a hug. Doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s rolling her eyes, but she still hugs him back, “I love you, squeaker.”

“Love you too, Dad. See you later!” With that, she’s out the door.

Roy’s still for a moment before he pulls out his phone, dialing a number he only uses for emergencies. 

“Jade? I need to talk to you. It’s about Lian.”

———

Lian gets home to a great surprise that afternoon. Dropping her bag, she rushes to the dark haired adults in the living room.

“Hey, Uncle Jay! Hi, Aunt Donna!” Lian hugs her godparents. “What are you doing here?”

“They’re here to help me talk to you about something.” Roy puts a file on the table.

“What?”

“Come sit down, honey.”

Lian furrows her brows as she sits on the couch with her dad. Jason takes the arm chair and Donna the love seat. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to Mom?”

“No, Li, I talked to your mom earlier. She’s okay and she knows we’re talking about this.” Roy touches the scar on her forehead. “Do you remember how you got this?”

“Fell out of a tree when I was little..” That’s an easy answer. She doesn’t remember it, but Jason always jokes that the ground got the worst end of the deal.

“That’s what we told you, but it’s not the truth.” Roy gestures to the file on the coffee table. “That-that’s the truth of how you got it. The whole horrible truth.

Frowning, Lian opens the file and starts skimming. Female. Roughly four years old. Black hair, brown eyes. Cause of death was internal bleeding. Identified as Lian Alice--

 Lian looks up at her father. The solem look he has makes Lian’s stomach churn, “What I’ve been seeing at night...It’s not a nightmare, is it?”

“No, pum’kin. It’s not.” Roy tries to take her hand, but Lian pulls away from him, getting off the couch. She holds up the file. Her death certificate.

“When were you going to tell me? Were you ever going to tell me?” Her stomach still churns but that’s not what matters.

“I don’t know. You were young when it happened—“

“When I died.” The anger building in her starts to break through, “I died, Dad, and you weren’t ever going to tell me?! What about you two?! Did you know?!”

“I carried your coffin.” Jason understands her anger. He’s felt it.

“How long?!” None of them answer her. “How long was I dead?!”

“11 months, 2 weeks, 5 days.” Roy tries to reach for her hand again. Lian backs up. Her chest rises and falls too quickly for her to really breathe properly.

“I was gone a year?! And you never told me?! Mom never told me?!” Tears blur her vision, “All those fucking lectures about lying and you do this shit?!”

“Lian!” Roy’s off the couch as she heads to the front door, “Squeaker--”

“Don’t call me that!” Her voice cracks, “I hate you!”

She races out the door. She can hear them calling for her, but she keeps running. Running down the street, towards the city. Her lungs burn with each breath she tries to take. In the back of her mind she finds her way to the nearest zeta tube. Typing her number in takes a few tries.

“Lian?” Fuck. They’re early. Or maybe she’s late. She’s not sure. Only that she can’t see through her tears and can’t catch her breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Milagro’s voice breaks through her panic, “Roja? Esta bien?”

“No.” Lian falls to her knees, holding her stomach as she sobs. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“Babe?” Jai’s kneeling beside her, heat radiating off him. Why’s she so cold? When did she get so cold? “Lian?”

“I died!” The second she says the words she can’t stop the flood. “I died when I was little!  My dad has my death certificate! That’s where I got my scar! I-I--”

“Hey, hey.” Jai pulls her close, looking up at their teammates. Violent sobs wrack her body. “Lian, it’s--”

“It’s not ok! You’re fucking a zombie, Jai! I’m a freak!” Lian starts dry heaving from sobs. Jai holds her tighter, trying to stop her shaking. It’s Damian that kneels in front of his teammate. “I’m dead! I died!”

“Harper. I’m going to touch your neck. Is that ok?” Damian’s calm voice, even with the irritating use of her last name, makes her nod. Pressing his fingers to her jugular, the team’s silent aside from her cries. “150 beats per minute. You know what that means?”

Lian shakes her head.

“You’re alive, Harper. Having a panic attack but alive.”

“Dad lied.” She whimpers, gripping Jai’s shirt tighter. “Everyone lied to me. Uncle Jason, Aunt Donna, Mom...”

“Yeah. Yeah they did.” Irey kneels beside her boyfriend, with the rest of the team following suit. She takes her friend’s hand in hers, squeezing it tight. “But, you’re here. You’re here, Li. We see you.”

“Why did they lie to me?” Lian lets Mar’i wipe the tears from her cheeks. 

“I don’t know. It might have hurt to say it.” Mar’i’s soft voice helps. “You died. They lost a child. When you came back, they might have wanted to focus on that and not the past.”

“Lian.” Milagro hugs her just as tightly as Jai does. “There’s no easy answer. None. There’s no right or wrong answer. But Irey’s right. We’re not leaving you alone.”

“We love you, Lian.” Colin tells her firmly. “We’re been friends too long for you to get rid of us now.”

They stay where they are for a while. Until Lian stops shaking. Until she stops gripping Jai’s shirt. Damian cancels training for that day, letting the team have a night off. Jai carries Lian to her room, over her weak protests. Thankfully, he sees through them. Setting her on the edge of her bed, with a loving kiss to her forehead, he starts to move away. Lian grips his hand.

“Hey,” Jai crouches down. “I’m just going to call your dad. Let him know you’re safe.”

He hands her one of his t-shirts, “Here, you can put this on. I’ll be right back. I love you, Li.”

“I love you.” Lian watches him leave the room. Removing her clothes, she pulls Jai’s old CCPD t-shirt on. He used to be so scrawny when they were little. Years of training and hero work left him lean, while his genetics gave him broad shoulders. The worn cotton smells like him, raising goose bumps on her cold skin. How did she get lucky enough to fall in love with her best friend. Or to have him love her back. She crawls under the covers. Soon, the chill in her bones starts to fade away. 

“Sorry.” Jai’s back 20 minutes later, carrying a small cardboard box. “Thought you could use some food.”

“Shrimp pad thai?” Lian sits up. He smiles, handing her a few boxes.

“Shrimp pad thai, Shu-Mai, and an order of fried rice.” He turns on her tv, playing one of the dozens of shitty movies she has recorded for date nights. He moves them around, having her lean against his chest, as he opens one of the other boxes to eat.

“...Are you distracting me with food and a movie?”

“It’s not a distraction.” Jai kisses her shoulder. “You learned something horrible today. You had a panic attack. Right now, you need to be kind to yourself. This is just the smallest thing I can do to help with that.”

“Jai...” She sinks against his chest, pressing her cheek to his shirt. Jai presses a kiss her exposed neck, arms wrapped around her middle. “Do you remember me being gone?”

The way he furrows his brows, thinking back to that time, reminds her of that scrawny kid she became friends with. Why they became best friends. Finally, he says, “I remember asking Mom and Dad why you hadn’t come over to play. That Irey and I missed you.”

“What did they say?”

“I don’t remember.” He shrugs. “You haven’t asked about your dad.”

“He knows I’m here?”

“He knows you’re safe. That you’re angry.”

They’re quiet, watching the movie without really taking it in. Empty boxes pile up on the nightstand. Jai falls asleep, snoring into her hair. She trails her calloused finger tips over his hairy chest. Usually, when one of them’s like this, they have sex. An unhealthy coping mechanism, sure, but better than booze or drugs or training so hard that their hands start bleeding. As she plays with his body hair, she remembers how it feels against her skin when they’re together. The feeling of his body against hers. The way it feels when he kisses her, making it impossible to feel anything besides him. 

That’s what they usually do. Not tonight though. Tonight, other than removing her borrowed shirt and laying on his bare chest, she lets him hold her. Let’s his body heat remind her that her teammates were right. 

She’s here. She’s alive.

And what has to happen next, won’t be easy.

[chthonicjason]

the things i’d do to you (if i had a mile in his shoes)

AO3

One of his neighbors is making breakfast.

The pop and crackle of sizzling bacon, the tantalizing smell, is what first stirs Dick from sleep. The cook - whoever it is - is humming, absentminded but soothing enough to keep him on the cusp of not-quite-awake.

It’s a pleasant wakeup call, all things considered; so much so that it negates any annoyance over just how thin his apartment walls apparently are - for now, at least.

He burrows further into the couch, nose smushed into a softer than he remembers cushion, and debates another hour or two of sleep. His body aches, bruises he doesn’t remember receiving throbbing in time with his heart, and the idea of drifting back into unconsciousness with his very own makeshift lullaby is a tempting one.

He’s just about settled into a doze when there’s the noise of glassware, plates clinking off one another and cutlery being set into place. It’s a slow burn of a realization, taking several moments too many to sink in.

The walls aren’t that thin; there’s someone in his apartment.

He rolls off the couch, previous fatigue forgotten under the sickening surge of adrenaline. What he’d meant to be a leap into action is more of an awkward flail than anything, and instead of finding himself up on his feet he greets the floor with a sudden and painful thud.

Considering the fact that Dick’s spent his entire life fighting gravity and winning, he feels more than justified in the prickling of unease that trickles down his spine.

There’s the sound of rushing footsteps, too close for Dick to do anything more than push himself up from where he’d face planted into the carpet.

His attention gets caught, immediately, on the arms supporting his weight. His arms, presumably, except no. Absolutely not. Pale, freckled skin; broad, callused hands; strong, tattooed arms; a thin, silvery scar on the right ring finger from catching a knife wrong when they’d been fourteen.

“Fuck, are you okay?” The voice is concerned, still slightly sleep rough, and instantly recognizable. Dick drags his attention away from the first impossibility to lay eyes on the second.

It’s Jason - because it’s always Jason, with them; he’s standing in the living room of an unfamiliar apartment, watching Dick with worried eyes. Dick hasn’t seen him in… god, almost six months, now, and the sight of his bedhead and low riding sweatpants is enough to leave Dick momentarily breathless.

It also solidifies Dick’s panicked suspicions; after all, there’s only one person in the multiverse allowed to see Jason so unguarded.

“Roy? You okay, man?”

He blinks up at Jason, more than a little nonplussed, and realizes with rising dread that Jason will absolutely hate this. It’s difficult enough to earn Jason’s goodwill when they meet at a predetermined, neutral location. Dick showing up in his life, in what appears to be his home, in his best friend? The reaction will be apoplectic, and Dick will be lucky if he sees Jason again this decade.

“M’fine, Jaybird. Bad dream, s’all.” Cost-benefit analysis makes his decision for him without much thought. It’s easier safer to pretend, at least until he can slip away without raising any questions. Then he can fix this, and Jason will be none the wiser.

Dick rolls onto his back, mimicking Roy’s lazy sprawl, and tries to think of this as any other undercover mission. A mission he’s beyond prepared for, considering the years and years he’s known Roy.

“Must’ve been a hell of a dream,” Jason inches closer, his eyes soft despite the annoyance he’s playing at, “When did you get here, anyway? Last we talked you thought you’d still be with the Titans a few more days.”

“Turns out the target was more bark than bite. We had their base cleared in under an hour.” Shit, Dick thinks, fervent. The Titans. That mission. That random, stray bolt of magic that had hit Dick and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing. He’d known he should’ve said something to Rae, to anyone, but he’d just wanted to go home and sleep.

It hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal at the time.

“Right,” Jason drawls, “And you just decided to break into my apartment in the middle of the night and crash on my couch?”

“What better way to relax after a Titans mission?” He quips, smiling to himself when it makes Jason snort.

“Whatever you say, dork,” Jason rolls his eyes, looking painfully fond, before turning on his heel and walking away. “Breakfast is going to be done soon, if you ever feel like getting off the floor.”

Dick’s up and following him before he’s even finished speaking.

Stepping into the kitchen is a bit like stepping into another world. One where Jason is relaxed, happy, in his presence; radiant in the early morning light streaming through the windows as he butters toast and plates omelettes. There’s two steaming mugs of coffee waiting at the dining table, and Jason’s resumed humming to himself, regardless of his audience.

It’s the picture of domestic bliss - a flawless display of everything Dick tries, and fails, not to dream about.

Chest aching with something raw and wanting, Dick sits down at the table in silence.

Jason joins him only moments later, plates of food in hand, and Dick lets himself get lost in his role as they eat. He can’t remember the last time he was the reason Jason laughed, but for Roy there’s nothing but dimpled grins and delighted guffaws. It’s addictive, to hold the full weight of Jason’s attention when not in his crosshairs.

“I,” Jason begins as the meal draws to a close, eyes fixed on where he’s dragging his fork through what remains of his eggs. “I made up my mind… about what we talked about, before you left.”

“You… did?” Dick blinks at him, hoping his panic isn’t clear as he tries to recall if Roy had said anything the past few days in regards to Jason. Seeing as how Dick can’t remember the last time he and Roy had a conversation about anything that wasn’t Titans affiliated, it’s not surprising that he’s drawing a blank.

“Yes.” It’s a confident reply, even as he flushes under the weight of Dick’s stare. “It’s - I’m not going to pretend to understand why the hell you’d want to be with me, but. I’m not in the habit of letting opportunities pass me by. Why should this be an exception?”

Oh, Dick thinks, more than a little heartsick as the puzzle pieces click into place. He’d known this was a possibility, of course - anyone could see how Jason and Roy orbited each other - but he’d been steadfast in his denial. Jason has a reputation for being oblivious to such things, and Dick had been selfish enough to hope that’d remain true.

“Unless,” Dick has seen Jason bleeding out before, his blood staining alleyways and rooftops and car seats, but even then he hadn’t looked as vulnerable as he does now. “Unless you changed your mind?”

God. Any jealousy - or rationale - abandons him in the face of Jason’s uncertainty, the way he seems braced for heartbreak.

“I haven’t. Of course I haven’t.” It’s instinct that has him reaching out for Jason’s hands, capturing them between his own and reveling in the way Jason grabs back at him.

Jason’s smile is shy, pleased, as he stares down at their joined hands; it’s an expression that fills the hollow cavern of Dick’s chest, adoration curling like roots amongst the rungs of his ribcage.

“Can I -”

“Yes,” Dick interrupts, mesmerized by the color staining Jason’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. There’s not a single thing Jason could ask for that Dick wouldn't willingly give.

The loss of Jason’s hands between his own is sudden - is almost enough to make Dick let out an absolutely pathetic noise in response - as Jason moves out of his seat and rounds the table. Dick can only watch, wide eyed and dry mouthed, as he finds himself with a lapful of Jason.

Overwhelming is too gentle a word for how it feels. Every part of Dick, every atom, is keyed into Jason; the curl of his eyelashes and the dotting of freckles across his nose and the seeping warmth of his nearness.

Yet even all of that gets eclipsed when Jason places hesitant lips against his own.

Sensation bombards him immediately: the plush give of Jason’s mouth against his own; the little sigh Jason breathes into him when Dick deepens the kiss; the phantom taste of coffee and cinnamon he chases with his tongue. The bitten off moan Dick can feel as much as hear when Jason grinds down against him.

It’s all beyond intoxicating, beyond addictive. It seems impossible, now that he knows what he’s been missing, to think he lived so long without knowing the taste of Jason’s kiss, or the sweet weight of him in his lap.

Jason pulls away, gasping against his mouth. Dick takes the opportunity to trail kisses along the line of his jaw. Noses at the delicate skin behind his ear when Jason leans his head against his shoulder, bites down hard enough to bruise when Jason moans a name Dick is trying to forget.

“Roy,” Jason repeats, grabbing fistfuls of long red hair to pull Dick away. His eyes are blown wide when their gazes meet, nothing but the faintest ring of green remaining. “Fuck me.”

The command is breathy, all wet dream eagerness and dark eyed intent. Whatever hope Dick had of remembering himself, and all the ways this is a betrayal, vanishes in a heartbeat.

“God,” He chokes out, pulling Jason back down to taste those words on his lips. His hands skin underneath Jason’s tank top, tracing the notches of his spine just for the way the drag of calluses makes Jason shiver. It’s easy, from there, to follow the curve of it back down to the swell of his ass.

“I can pick you up,” Dick sounds dazed to his own ears, the weight of realization an impact he hadn’t braced for. Jason hums a little questioning sound, head ducked down as he mouths at the skin of Dick’s neck.

“Hold on,” He shifts his grip into less of a grope and more of a hold, shifting to stand up from the chair. Jason doesn’t hesitate to wind his arms around Dick’s neck and lock his legs around his hips.

It’s Roy’s strength that makes it easy to carry Jason away from the kitchen and into the bedroom, but it’s hard to be bitter over it with Jason wrapped around him.

It’s far from graceful, Dick stumbling over his feet and careening them into walls, but all either of them care about is that it gets them to their destination without having to separate. He stumbles through the bedroom doorway and then, as Jason’s laughter vibrates through both their chests, onto the bed.

Little Wing, he thinks, reverent, leaning back as far as the ankles locked at the small of his back will let him. Jason is splayed out underneath him, his cheeks all pretty in pink and his eyes wild. I did that, Dick thinks, incredulous, and has to dive back in for another kiss to control the flood of emotions it gives him.

Jason turns his head at the last second, Dick’s lips meeting the corner of his mouth.

“Priorities,” He chides, tugging insistently at the neck of Dick’s sleep shirt. Dick huffs out a laugh, kissing the dimple of Jason’s cheek before giving in and moving away. He strips quickly, too impatient to put on a show, before turning greedy hands to Jason’s own clothing.

He spends long moments just looking, when Jason is finally bare beneath him. He itches to touch - to kiss and bite and mark - but the need to memorize the sight before him is more pressing.

Jason squirms under his stare, whining - this needy, desperate sound Dick wants to taste, wants to devour, and even now it feels surreal to know he can. He surges forward - hips rocking down, grinding them together to feel the way Jason’s nails bite into his shoulders in reaction - and steals the noise from Jason’s lips.

His hand slides up - slow, indulgent, from bent knee to decadent thigh, to rippling abdomen then pounding heartbeat, before settling on the sharp jut of Jason’s jaw.

“Relax,” Dick whispers, spit slick lips brushing against Jason’s. His heart’s in his throat - between his goddamn teeth - as he feels the way Jason’s jaw goes lax beneath his fingers. As he watches Jason open his mouth, lips bruised red and sinful, drool pooling in the corners; a plea without words.

And maybe Dick wants to hear Jason beg, wants to see him cry for him, but he’s unable to deny Jason anything in this moment. He slides two fingers into that wet heat, gives a groan of his own when Jason doesn’t hesitate - laving at them, sloppy and desperate and the hottest thing Dick’s ever seen.

“There you go, sweetheart,” He murmurs, eyes fixed on the way Jason’s mouth is taking him in. His own voice is already wrecked, years of hopeless pining and guilty daydreams apparent in every syllable, and it’s almost enough to disguise how wrong the voice is, how foreign it sounds when coming from his own throat.

Jason’s tongue curls, clever as the rest of him, and Dick has a sudden flash of Jason’s lips wrapped around the finger stripes of the Nightwing costume. His cock jerks at the thought, almost painful in its intensity, and the ragged moan that leaves him is forced out between clenched teeth.

He’s slow slow slow as he eases his fingers from Jason’s mouth, pushing down on Jason’s tongue until he images Jason can taste every whorl, hooking them behind his bottom teeth and tugging until Jason has no choice but to follow them upward. It’s only then, when Jason’s neck is straining and he’s all but a hair’s breadth away, that Dick replaces his fingers with his own hungry mouth.

“Bedside drawer,” Jason pants out, long moments later, and Dick doesn’t hesitate. It feels like ages before his saliva soaked fingers find the lube bottle amongst the various odds and ends in the drawer, every second not spent melting into Jason’s warmth a second wasted.

“Yeah, yeah, fucking - hurry up,” Jason moans as Dick slicks his fingers, trying for brash but hitting needy instead - making up for it with a biting kiss just this side of vicious to the thin skin of Dick’s jaw.

Dick - when Dick had imagined this, he’d imagined it slow, soft. He hadn’t been naive enough to picture a dozen roses, or flickering candles, or anything else he knew Jason would regard with nothing but suspicion. But he had imagined laying Jason out, taking his time with him. Drawing out every whimper and moan, eating him out until his jaw ached and then fucking him until their legs gave out.

The reality of it is - impossible, overwhelming, and Dick doesn’t even take the time to warm the lube between his hands before he’s working Jason open.

“Fuck,” Jason moans, shaky, and Dick can do nothing but agree, all of his focus locked onto Jason’s expression: his flushed face, his blown black eyes, the oh of his bitten bloody mouth. The way that expression shifts, the flutter of his dark eyelashes, as Dick tucks a second finger inside, as he curls them and finds the spot that makes Jason whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” Dick praises, all but coos, desperate to lean back and watch the way Jason’s body is gripping his fingers tight but just as desperate to not lose a second of what his Little Wing looks like when he’s lost to sensation.

Jason makes the decision for him, nails leaving lines from his nape to the center of his back as Jason shivers all over from the praise. It’s enough to make something in Dick snap; the breaking of levees that have been holding back years worth of adoration.

“God, sweetheart, look at you,” He trails kisses, reverent, from the corner of Jason’s trembling mouth to his temple, slips a third finger inside and memorizes the love drunk noise Jason makes in response. “You’re taking me so beautifully - the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.”

“ Shu - shut up,” Jason demands, whines, nails biting into Dick so hard he’s sure they’re breaking skin, and the idea of that - of carrying Jason’s marks around for days to come - only winds Dick up tighter.

“Never,” Dick promises, twisting his wrist just so, and thinks I’ll spend the rest of my life singing your praises.

Jason’s thighs clamp down around his hips, trapping Dick’s arm between them. His nails rake up, retracing their previous path, before grabbing a handful of too long hair. He tugs, sending shivers from the roots of his hair to the base of his spine, and it’s instinct that has Dick following where that hand is guiding him.

In a blur of movement Dick finds himself on his back, staring up at Jason who manages to look victorious even as he shudders at the loss of Dick’s fingers. Dick’s hands lock, bruising tight, over Jason’s hips, so stupidly turned on it’s hard to think straight.

“So much for never,” Jason teases as he grabs the lube. The touch of Jason’s slick palm to his cock is enough to have Dick biting back a moan.

Even that is nothing - nothing - compared to the moment Jason lines them up. This is really happening, Dick thinks, incredulous, before all thought flees as Jason slowly - so, so slowly - sinks down.

It’s - divine is a word invented for the way Jason feels from the inside - the tight, wet heat of him something worthy of worship. Obscene a word only truly understood when put to use to describe the noises coming from Jason’s perfect mouth.

“God,” Jason moans, as he seats himself fully, and his voice is - fuck, Jason’s voice is molten gold, poured into the very veins of him, blazing a trail down Dick’s spine and making a home at the heart of him. .

They take a second to breathe, eyes locked on each other, and then, without warning, Jason starts to move. A slow, sensuous roll of his hips that belongs in porn and fantasies, that’s setting Dick’s every nerve alight.

“Fu-” It’s a bitten off gasp, more idea than word. He’s sure he’s leaving bruises on Jason’s hips, stark marks of his fingertips to match the imprints of his teeth in Jason’s neck. Dick’s not sure he’s ever felt so wild; his skin a cage he wants to climb out of so he can sink into Jason’s.

He angles his hips up, feet planted firmly on the mattress, and knows he’s found the right spot when Jason keens. The headboard thuds against the wall with every thrust of Dick’s hips, every roll of Jason’s. The air humid, ripe with sex and gasping breaths. Liquid fire pooling in his stomach and arcing through his veins.

“Come here,” Dick asks, begs, his mind a litany of demands for closer faster harder more. His hand fits perfectly as it curves around the back of Jason’s neck, pulling him in until Dick can plant kisses to Jason’s moaning mouth.

“Shit,” It’s a jagged little noise, more air than anything, when Dick’s free hand curls around Jason’s cock. Jason’s hands scrabble from where they’d been braced against Dick’s chest, his arms shaking as Dick does his level best to destroy him.

“I’m going to ruin you,” Dick promises, voice a rasp so possessive and soaked with want he doesn’t recognize it, “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. No one will ever be able to make you feel like I do. No one will ever be brave enough to even try.”

He twists his wrist, callused palm catching on the leaking head of Jason’s cock in time with a particularly vicious thrust. Jason cries out as he comes between them, his face something Dick’s going to remember for the rest of his goddamn life.

It feels like permission; his goal of making Jason shake apart now complete so that he can chase after his own release. It doesn’t take much - a handful more thrusts into the tight clutch of Jason’s body before the tsunami of need that’s been building since this started crashes over him.

Jason collapses on top of him, body a warm, treasured weight pressing him into the bed. Dick wraps his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his sweaty curls and then, when that makes Jason try to hide a smile, a kiss to the corner of his eye.

“I love you,” He murmurs, because the words have been trapped behind his teeth for years and he’s tired of holding them in. Jason grins, cheek dimpling with the force of it.

“I love you, too.”

Jason ducks his head down, tucking it into the crook of Dick’s neck, and Dick thinks he could stay here forever. Knows he could, really.

The morning is just giving way to afternoon, sunlight dappling the expanse of Jason’s back, when a persistent buzzing tears its way through their peaceful daze.

“Ignore it,” Dick tries to insist, loath to let this moment end, but knows it’s a lost cause anyway. After all, Jason isn’t prone to giving his number away freely - if someone’s calling, it’s because they need to be.

Jason flails an arm out until he grabs the phone off the charger. There’s a long second, Jason staring with bleary eyes at the screen as Dick plays with his hair, before he gives an irritated groan. He throws the phone down amongst the pillows, burrowing back down into Dick’s arms.

“Why the fuck do I have six missed calls from Dick?” He grumbles, breath warm on Dick’s neck, and reality reasserts itself like a punch to the gut.

[chimie-chat]

The Big Book: A Roy Harper recovery fic

It was funny how a situation that should have been perfectly normal could suddenly be so stressful. A clink as glasses tipped against one another. The oh-so-familiar EDM bass beat that filled the air until it practically vibrated against his skin. The clammy feeling in the palms of his hands…

Roy took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to occupy his thoughts with literally anything other than the 1.75 milliliter bottle just on the other side of the table. His eyes were trained on the deep honey color of the liquid inside while his fingers traced the circle of condensation his own cup left behind on the vinyl tablecloth. 

Stop staring. Come on Harper. You can do this. He tore his eyes away, screwing them shut as he brought his cup up to his lips and took a sip of shirley temple. The artificial flavor of grenadine tasted way too sweet, but the bubble of the soda against his gums made him relax ever so slightly. That was the feeling he loved. Not exactly, but it was pretty damn close. Not a day went by that he didn’t imagine the ghost of beer fizz on his lips, but if he could mimic it, even slightly, then it made this shitty situation just that much easier. 

Living Sober, a book written by and for alcoholics, suggested keeping a sweet drink in your hand any time you would be near alcohol. Needless to say, ever since he managed to start this bout of sobriety, Roy had kept nothing but sugary drinks in hand at all times. His soda intake had gone through the roof. But hey. At least he wasn’t drinking.

He wasn’t drinking.

He wasn’t drinking. 

That would be great… If he wasn’t surrounded by people who were. It was some kind of get-together; a bad attempt at rekindling friendships between his former Titans team, his current Outlaws, and various other vigilantes in their age range. That was a lie. IT was just gonna be the Titans. At least, that’s what it started as. That’s what the plan was. To be perfectly honest, Roy hadn’t wanted to go at all. Did he like his friends? Sure. That was the word for it. They were like a second, third, and fourth family to him after all. But he knew them all too well. He knew that spending time with them would mean white knuckling it as they drank. Them pretending they were being conscious of his predicament while simultaneously clinking their shot glasses together. God he didn’t want to be here.

“So then Wally turned to the guy and saidー”

“No! You’re gonna do it wrong!” The speedster cut Dick off with a hand over the guy’s mouth. Wally. The only other member of this ragtag group that wasn’t some form of intoxicated right now. It wasn’t by choice though. No matter how much the man drank, his metahuman genealogy made it impossible for him to get drunk. What a lucky prick. “So I turned to the guy and saidー”

Roy took another sip of his shirley temple. 

“Hold on. I’m gonna go get another one.” Donna pushed up from her seat, and Roy couldn’t help but look at her face. The woman’s face always got a pink glow after she’d had a few. It was a sure tell that she was getting close to her limit, but everyone knew she wasn’t going to stop any time soon. She walked with her highball glass to the bar counter on the other side of the sleazy joint they were in and waved down the bartender. 

“Oh yeah. Another!” Dick reached for the bottle of gold Jose Cuervo and poured himself another shot. That was just like Dick. Always sloppy.

Still. Roy watched the tequila pour and couldn’t help but lick his lips. God he loved tequila. He remembered when he first started drinking, and would still pour salt on the back of his hand and bite into a lime wedge with each shot. When had he stopped relying on tricks to keep it down? When had it started going down like water? By the time he was about… Eighteen maybe? No. Probably seventeen. The ginger man felt a shiver roll down his spine. Right. That’s why we quit. Because it was too easy not to.

He reached for his pocket, opening up his wallet and peaking at the orange colored coin inside. Two months. Two whole months. He pulled it out slightly and reach the inscription on the back.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The prayer played on repeat in his head like a broken record. He could do this. Just an outing with friends. He could do this.

“ーgrade, right?” 

It took a moment for Roy to realize someone was talking to him. “Huh?” He slipped his coin back into his wallet and looked up to find Lilith staring right at him from across the table. To be honest, he didn’t remember talking to this girl all that much. At least not recently. Not since she moved to the… Oh lord where had she moved to. West coast? That sounded right. Wow. He was a really shitty friend. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Lian. She’s in the first grade now, isn’t she?” The red headed girl swirled her straw through her strawberry daiquiri. 

“Oh uhー”

“She’s still in kindergarten.” The voice came with a weight leaning down on Roy’s shoulder, and the man didn’t have to look up to know exactly whose it was. Jason fucking Todd, hopefully here to save the day. 

“That so? How nice.” Lilith seemed to accept this, smiling over the lip of her drink, and for some reason not using to straw to take a sip. Why? What was the point of that? Using the straw made it easier to get straight to the rum that settled at the bottom of the glass.

“Hey Jaybird. Better late than never, asshole.” Roy smacked the guy’s arm away. 

“Hit some traffic.” The man just shrugged before dragging a chair away from another table and somehow fitting it between Roy’s and Donna’s. Probably for the better. “Didn’t realize yous guys would get the party started without me.”

“What? You think we’re just gonna wait for ya?” The archer did his best to flash a grin as he lifted his glass, tipping it back against his lips, only to find out that it was empty. So instead he pulled one of the ice cubes into his mouth and chewed on it. Ok. That worked too.

Jason eyed him for a second. “Want me to get you another?” 

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Roy placed the glass down, tapping his fingers against the sides of it.

“Hold on a sec. Hey waiter!” Jason called out towards some poor, underpaid girl in a waist-apron. He waved her over. “Can we get anotherー Wait what were you drinking?”

Roy felt his nerves spike. He didn’t like announcing his prissy, sissy drinks to the world. He had this manly persona to keep up. Someone like him should be ordering a glass of whiskey. Someone like him should be getting ready to slam down another jägerbomb, then disappear into the bathroom to do a line of some sketchy shit he bought off some random guy in the parking lot. “The usual.” He muttered.

“Alright so Imma need a gingerale, and a shirley temple. Make sure to put a few extra cherries in there for me too, if ya could.” Jason rattled off the order without any need for clarification. Damn. This bastard really knew him too well. 

With the waitress gone ー he was oddly nervous about eavesdroppers ー Roy felt like he could relax again. “You’re not drinking?”

“Nah. I’m good.” Jason shrugged before stretching an arm over the back of Roy’s chair. It was casual. Nothing odd about it at all.

“Oh. Ok then.”

“Jayyy?” Dick’s slurred words interrupted. “When’d you get’ere?”

“I’ve been here this whole time.”

Roy couldn’t help but snort at the confused expression on the man’s face as he sincerely tried to remember whether or not Jason had, in fact, been with them since the beginning. Eventually, the acrobat just shrugged, and took a sip of some highlighter blue drink he’d somehow acquired. Well, Donna was back, so maybe she brought it for him. 

“Dick slow down.” Wally tried to grab at the end of the glass, but their drunken mess of a leader pulled it tight into his chest instead.

“No! I’m only on like…” They all watched as the man counted on his fingers, before holding up one hand. “I’m on drink seven. I’m fine!”

What a lightweight. Seven drinks was nothing. Roy needed bare minimum twelve strong ones. 

“What an idiot.” He heard Jason mumble. 

“Our fearless leader.” Roy dipped his fingers into his cup and pulled up another ice cube. If this is what he was stuck with, then that was fine. Damn. When was that new drink gonna get here?

Jason looked him over. “You doing ok?” The question was whispered.

There was a pause as Roy just let the ice cube melt on the top of his tongue. He sucked on it lightly, tasting the residual sugar that it must have picked up from the syrup. “Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Don’t lie to me, Harper.”

The stern tone in Jason’s voice made Roy chuckle and roll his eyes. “Yes Mom.” He looked off at the decorations on the wall of the pub, lifting his hands to adjust the cap on his head. He couldn’t quite decide if he wanted it to face forward or back, but he decided to settle on forward for now. “Yeah. I think I’m ok. I’m making it by at least.”

“Alright, man." 

They somehow integrated themselves into the conversation again, though it was mostly Jason making sarcastic comments on whatever trash left their increasingly drunken friend's mouths, while Roy stayed on the sidelines. The waitress coming back was the biggest blessing he'd had since sitting down. He immediately pulled one of four maraschino cherries out and popped it into his mouth, the cool gush of the juice kicking his senses back into gear. 

There were several moments where he thought of jumping into the conversation, and putting in his two cents. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, and thought about which AA meetings he could get to this week. As fun as the seven thirty am meeting was, it seemed like he would be out late tonight, so he probably wouldn't be able to get up for it. He could probably get to a noon meeting, but he really preferred the noon NA meetings. It's been a skinny minute since he's gone to NA actually…. Well he didn't really have anything to do tomorrow, so he could go to that, and then stick around for the four o'clock AA, and then pick up a Happy Meal for Lian for dinner. Yeah. That would work. She loved getting those toys too.

It wasn't until Jason tapped on the back of his chair that Roy realized he'd really let himself zone out. He frowned. That wasn't like him at all. He needed to be more active in the conversations; at the very least, crack some jokes. He listened in on Donna attempting to lecture the rest of their teammates on the buddy system, before he finally jumped back in. 

"Oh come on, baby. How much trouble could they get in?" He grinned, leaning on his elbows.

Apparently, this question caused some kind of horror, cause the star-spangled girl immediately looked at him in shock. "A lot, actually."

"Nah. They'll totally be fine." He waved her off, crossing his arms behind his head. Did he know the context? Not at all. Fake it 'til ya make it, am I right?

"Oh my god you really are all dumbasses." The woman hung her head in her hands.

"Uh hey. Don't lump me in with this." Jason frowned. "I'm not part of your little troupe."

"No you just stole Roy from us." Wally jabbed, pushing the now empty tequila bottle to the other side of the table. When did it get empty? Who drank it? Who drank the most tonight?

"This idiot? You can have him back any time."

"Ouch. Tell me how you really feel."

The chatter stayed pretty consistent, and for a while the archer was actually feeling quite comfortable. This was easy. Talking. He could do that. Now that drinks seemed to be done with, and they could all collectively agree to give Dick shit for how he was acting, this was all fine. Wow. Being sober was great. Going out with friends, knowing that he'd remember getting home? Amazing. Not googling the nearest ATM so he could get cash to blow on smack? Definitely saving the bank.

He could do this. This time, he'd make it work. This time he'd go through the steps, and rely on his sponsor when he needed it. He’d do a ninety in ninety, and collect those chips like they were Pokémon cards. He could build a display for them. He loved building things, and tinkering, and he’d been looking for a new project. He could make enough spots for a whole years worth. It would give him that bit of motivation he needed. 

He vaguely caught a whiff of a glass of wine being served at another table, and flicked his wallet open again to see the picture of his daughter he kept over his license. That right there was his main reason for keeping clean. That smile.

He had to do this.

“Dude, you ok?” Wally’s voice shook Roy out of whatever train of thought he’d somehow wandered down.

“Huh?” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the photograph. 

“Idunnoman.” The fellow redhead shrugged, tipping his chair back on its hind legs. “You just seem out of it. Really weird too. You’re not talkin’ all that much either.”

“Um…” Roy pulled the lip of his baseball cap down over his face, and took a breath. “Yeah, man. I’m doing fine.” 

“You sure? Cause like, you just seem different andー”

“He’s the same as he always is.” Jason practically slammed ー well, loudly placed down ー his soda. The action itself wasn’t very threatening, but the glare that came along with it wasn’t one you’d want to be on the other end of.

For some ungodly reason, rather than just dropping it, this asshole just had to keep pushing. Man, fuck speedsters. Sure, Wally was one of his best friends, but like… Screw you, man. “But like… I dunno it just doesn’t really seem like you wanna be here.” He doesn’t. “Like you didn’t have to come, but since you’re here you could likeー”

“What?” Roy felt his face drop. No. No that wasn’t what he was thinking at all. “Dude, I was the one that suggested we get together in the first place.” It was his sponsor’s idea. Rekindling old friendships was supposed to help him relearn how to be social. 

“Not to start an argument here,” Oh god Donna not you too. “But I do agree that you’re acting different than you normally do. If something’s wrong, you know you can talk to us.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Nothing’s wrong with you guys, but everything’s wrong with him. Roy felt his heartbeat picking up. Was he really that… weird? He thought… He thought he was doing so well…”

“You surー”

“Leave it.” Jason cut in again, this time a lot more forceful. Thank his Higher Power for this guy. Honestly? Where the hell would he be without this guy? The angry, warning voice came with a hand on Roy’s thigh, which he hadn’t realized was bouncing at about a mile a minute. It gripped, and Roy stilled.

“It’s fine, Jay.” He whispered, though he placed his hand down on top of the other’s. “It’s…” He took a deep breath. “Actually, can I go?”

Jason just nodded, instantly pushing his chair back. “It’s pretty late. You probably gotta pick Lian up from the sitter, right?” Thank you for making up an excuse. Thank you so much.

“Shit. You’re right.” He did his best to feign like he’d completely forgotten about that. He didn’t actually have to pick Lian up until the morning. He’d made plans just in case he fucked up tonight. She didn’t deserve to see him any kind of distressed, or under any kind of influence. She didn’t deserve to know her daddy was such a fucking mess. He looked back towards his friends, making sure to smile even though he really didn’t feel up to it. “Sorry guys. We should do this again next week though.”

“Totally!” Lilith jumped in with a smile. She was always nice. Wow. He seriously needed to talk to her more. At the time, it didn’t occur to him that she was a psychic, and could probably read the sheer distress that was rolling through him. No. That was something he wouldn’t realize until tomorrow. “I’ll make sure to keep my weekend free for you. Oh, could you bring Lian next time? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

Any excuse to think about his little Squeaker was an excuse to actually feel good. “I’ll send you a picture of something she drew a few days ago. I think you’d like it. Well uh…” He looked to Jason, who was pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket ー no wallet apparently ー and dropping it on the table. It was more than enough to cover both of their drinks. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

He vaguely registered a very drunken goodbye from Dick, and what sounded like Wally getting smacked ー he deserved it ー as he pushed his way out of the pub, his feet carrying him faster than would be deemed normal, but he wasn’t quite running, so that was probably fine? 

The cold night air filled his lungs when he stepped into the parking lot and it was… It was so much. The combination of finally able to release that tension from white knuckling it through the past few hours, and the shame of apparently being a bad friend made him just.... Men don’t cry. They don’t. They’re not supposed to, but right now, standing outside of a shitty dive joint he didn’t even want to go to in the first place, stuffing his hands into his armpits because of course he hadn’t brought a jacket, he could just feel the sting in the corners of his eyes; the pool, and the threat that this of all places was where he was finally going to break down, and… God he just… He felt so useless. 

Hinges cried out as the door opened and slammed shut, before a body was standing right next to him. He didn’t have to look up to know is was Jason. It was always Jason. Soon that slightly stained, definitely thrifted leather jacket that was so iconically him was being draped around Roy’s shoulders. First he felt the warmth. The smell of cigarette smoke came as he muttered his thanks, and adjusted the coat so his arms could be shoved into the sleeves. One of Jason’s hands dug through the jacket’s outer pocket, and pulled out a Marlboro box and an old fashioned zippo. The only sound between them was the repeated flicks of the lighter, before Jason took his first drag. “Want it?” He held it between them.

Roy looked at it, before shaking his head. “Stopped that too.” 

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nah. It’s fine. You didn’t know.” He pulled at the collar of the jacket, and took a deep breath. “It was the easiest thing to quit.”

“I bet.” The cigarette was only half finished when Jason tossed it to the ground and snubbed it out with the toe of his boot. “I know you didn’t drive. Want me to take you home, or do you want to come back with me?”

Roy thought about it. Home would be empty right now. That didn’t sound great. Of course, Jay would stay if he asked. But they both knew who had the more comfortable bed. “Your place.”

“Cool.” A finger and thumb pinch at the hem of one of Roy’s pockets and gave a tug. “Come on. My bike’s over here.” 

Roy let himself be led. “Don’t you think a car would be smarter in this weather?”

There was a slight hum, though they both knew there was no way Red Hood would ditch his bike for a Honda Civic. The only reason Roy traded his out was because a carseat couldn’t fit on his Harley. “Nah. I think I’m good. ‘Sides. I got good tires.” 

Jason was parked on the other side of the lot, which was awfully far from the entrance to the pub, but really close to the road. He always did that. Closer to the road meant it was easier to get away. They did a lot of that; getting away. 

The second seat popped open, and Jay pulled out the ever-iconic Red Hood helmet, holding it under his arm as he held out a second, all black one out. “Can’t have your brains splatting all over the road.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him. “Damn, how bad did your driving get?” Roy took the helmet and just… Stared at it. The tinted face shield would make it impossible for anyone to identify the wearer, but it still somehow caught a glare from a nearby street lamp. He felt himself frowning at it. “Hey… Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I…” He swallowed. He didn’t actually know what question he wanted to ask. Words were never his strong suit. Action always worked best for him. Punching things, and shooting things, and… and… What else did he like? Maybe he didn’t need to ask a question right now. Actions. Doing things. Yeah. That’s what he needed right now. He needed to do something. Anything. Anything that would make him not think about the bees in his teeth. “Sorry. I’m being and idiot.”

“Hey. None of that.” Jason hung his helmet on the handlebars before stepping in and pulling the one out of Roy’s hands, placing it on the leather seat. Hands found their spot on Roy’s shoulders, squeezing them in a really awful massage, then traveled up to grip much more reassuringly at the back of the man’s neck. One pulled at the brim of Roy’s hat and twisted it around. “You’re doing great, Roy. You’re doing really great.”

He nodded, letting his partner step into his space. His head fell when thumbs rubbed into the tangles on the back of his neck. 

“Roy. Bud, at me.”

He shook his head.

Hot breath fanned over his face in time with the forehead that pressed against his own. The leather strap from his cap made it awkward, but neither man made any effort to move. “You’re going great, Roy. I’m so proud of you for getting through that.”

“I justー” The archer swallowed the lump in his throat. “I need it to stick this time. I can’t mess up this time.”

“You won’t.” Jason whispered. 

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Cause I know you, and you’re a hard ass.” It broke the tension just enough for both of them to give a slight laugh. Then, Jason pulled back, smiling as he looked into Roy’s eyes. “You can beat this. I know you can.”

Roy swallowed and nodded. He reached forward, gripping into that shitty, high-thread count polo shirt the other man was wearing. God he hated how that one piece of clothing probably cost more than his own full outfit. Every fiber of his being craved everything he couldn’t have. He craved the absolute lack of control and massive confidence boost alcohol gave him. He craved the clarity and creativity LSD opened his eyes to. He craved the euphoric rush of cocaine, and peaceful relaxation of weed. First and foremost, he craved the mellow, the “world is beautiful” feeling, the “life is worth living” feeling…. He craved just how fucking nice heroin was. Roy felt himself shaking, as he met Jason’s eyes, and he just knew what the pleading expression on his face looked like. A glance of blue eyes over his absolute mess of an expression, and he knew Jason had figured it out too. 

Lips pressed together, groundless and chapped, but enough to fill that last craving up. For now. Roy sighed and leaned in close, ignoring the voice of his sponsor in the back of his mind telling him just how stupid he was to be starting something with his best friend right now. No offence Waylon, but you’re an idiot if you don’t think this hasn’t been in the works for years, and an ass for trying to get him to stop now. 

“Better?” Jason asked, pulling back just slightly. 

Roy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his senses filling with that cigarette smell that clung to his partner. “Not really. But thanks.”

“Is there a meeting tonight I can take you to?” A hand gently pushed the motorcycle helmet back to Roy. “Or I can take you in the morning. I’ll go with you.”

“Tomorrow…” Roy nodded. “I wanna go to my homegroup. It’s in Star City though.”

“Easy.” Jason grinned, and stepped back, grabbing his mask and throwing it on, before swinging a leg over his bike. 

“You sure?” For the first time in what felt like all night, Roy felt that stupid, broken smirk of his form on his face again. “The early bird meeting is at seven thirty.”

That seemed to make Jason pause for a moment. Bats weren’t exactly known for being early to rise. “I’ll make it work.”

“So difficult.” He took his cap off and jammed it into the inside zipper pocket of the leather jacket, then put his own helmet on, before hopping on the bike. He gripped at the strap of Jason’s belt, curling his fingers tight around it. He wasn’t about to be caught dead wrapping his arms around the dude’s waist. “Thanks, Jaybird. I mean it.”

The engine roared to life, and he shut his eyes, once again reciting the usual prayer in his mind.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Keep coming back. It works if you work it.

[ibroughtanarsenal]

jailhouse rocks (lol ok).

WHO: Roy @ibroughtanarsenal and Jason @thatsjasonfkntodd​​ WHERE: SCPD Jail WHEN: May 19th 2020 WHAT: Roy visits Jason in jail and is basically an asshole the whole time.

Jason: Jason had not actually been a hundred percent confident that Roy would come to the jail to see him, given his insistence that he was going to stay angry. Obviously he’d hoped that he would. Steph and Dick couldn’t be the only people that would show, surely. He’d sent the note back for Tim, but that didn’t mean much. He could be petty as hell.

When he got word that he had a visitor coming, he vaguely wondered if he was getting more Mad Libs. Roy was a welcome change. Jason gave him a lazy smile as soon as he saw him. “I wondered if you’d show.” Roy: "Me too." Roy still wasn't happy about the situation. He sighed and slumped in his hair, his hands in his pockets. There was a hollow look to him that didn't seem quite right. His hands were shoved in his pockets, but he could still feel them shaking. The last two days he tried several things to get his mind off the situation, but at the end of the day he knew there was only one thing that could.

He'd lost hours. Still, he made it to the jail the next day with a hoodie, not unusual for him even tough it was hot out. "Just wanted to see you. I figured you've been getting enough lectures." Jason: Jason tried not to focus on the fact that Roy looked exhausted. He knew that he wasn’t going to be happy, that the last few days had probably sucked completely. It wasn’t like Jason’s case had any kind of trajectory or timeline yet. He had no idea how long he was going to be in there or what, really, he had put himself up against. And if he didn’t know, neither did Roy.

“Yeah,” he said, the smile slipping a little, “me too.” He missed him, but that felt shitty of him to say when he was the only reason they were having to see each other in the visiting area. “And I’ve had a few. Talk to me about literally anything else.” Despite himself, Jason was looking at him harder than he wanted to. Had he slept? Roy: "Um..." There was a slower responsive time than usual. Roy wasn't being his usual rapid-fire self. Dick noticed it too, but he'd been able to convince him it was depression. He was still going to work. He was still functioning. It annoyed him that Dick insisted on giving him rides there and back as if he were a little kid. In reality, was eager to escape his scrutinizing looks. "I have a new stalker." He smirked, reaching up to idly scratch his arms as if he were restless. "Dick talks way too much." Roy did too, he sometimes talked even more, but not likely. "How's prison life?" Jason: “A new one, huh? How many have you had?” Jason didn’t bother to say that he’d asked Dick to look after Roy. There was no way for him to convey that information without it coming out the wrong way, like he thought that Roy had needed a babysitter. It wasn’t that simple but he couldn’t have explained it to him. It was easier to not mention it. “You knew that already. He dies if he stops talking.”

Jason told himself as he continued to look at him that he had to just be exhausted. Was that it? He needed that to be it. It had only been two days ahead of many. Roy: Normally Roy would have a quick and solid comeback, or make a comment about how being irresistible was a gift and a curse, but too much time passed for it to be funny and he just shrugged instead. "Pretending to be asleep doesn't even work." He saw Dick when he got off work, they hung out for a few hours and played video games. Once Roy went to bed and closed the door so he'd get the hint, Dick finally would leave. Sometimes he found him crashed on the couch in the morning, but thankfully that was rare.

"Did you ask him to keep an eye on me or something?" It wasn't that Dick didn't visit, but this was a little excessive. Jason: “I asked him to take care of my dog, so unless you’re my dog, this is just Dick being Dick.” He shouldn’t lie to him, but Roy already had enough reason to be pissed at him without feeling like Jason had put a leash on him, too. He wasn’t going to make it worse.

Jason ran his hand along the back of his neck. He probably could’ve gone the whole visit without asking, but now he had an uncomfortable question to deflect and ask, so he went with the latter. “Are you okay? You look...tired.” Roy: Roy sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew Jason was right. Still, he hated it. He didn't want Dick to see him right now, because Dick saw what he was like before. The right thing to do would be to tell him what was going on, but even though they were older now a part of him shrank away from Dick's judgment, even though he'd seen him at his worst.

"Not exactly easy to sleep when I'm worried about you every goddamn second." He was agitated and it showed, but there were plenty of reasons for it. Jason: Was it going to get harder or easier? If he was in there for a few months, was month two going to be as hard as day two or worse? He’d been doing fine, really, on his end, and seeing Steph and Dick hadn’t been that bad, but Roy looked rough and it sucked knowing it was his fault. Not only his fault, but actively his choice.

“I’m alright,” he told him, taking on a rather uncharacteristic role of the person being placating. It wasn’t like there was anything else he could do. “You don’t have to worry.” Roy: "That's bullshit and you know it." Despite the words, Roy's tone wasn't angry. He just sounded exhausted. Sad. "I have every reason to worry." It wasn't like him to turn to the negative unless he was stressed. Those were the rare moments when shared doubts and insecurities, but not everyone got to hear it.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he crossed his arms on the table. "I just want you out." Jason: “You don’t. If I didn’t think I could keep this under control, I wouldn’t have done it. Come on, Roy. I didn’t walk in here to die again.” He wasn’t taking that kind of risk, even if maybe it looked like he was, and even if once in awhile some thoughts crept in that if it happened it would just be the universe correcting itself. Mostly, he didn’t believe that anymore. Mostly. Sometimes it just removed some self preservation instincts he might have had otherwise.

He kept watching him even as Roy closed his eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but of course that wasn’t an option. “...Soon. I’ll be out as soon as I can.” Roy: "Stop placating me like I'm five. You can't control anything when you're behind bars. You have no control over anything. You handed it over the second you confessed." The prosecutor had the control now and he would be deciding what to do with Jason. "You're just another cog in this whole system." Roy's lack of understanding for Jason's reasoning would normally justify some of his anger, at least on a rational level, but right now his frustration felt out of his control. He just knew he wanted Jason out of here.

He laughed softly. After being involved with Deathstroke's trial as a Titan, he knew how long trials lasted. "Yeah, see you in a year or two." Jason: Jason went quiet. He’d been arguing with everyone and been angry at everyone and he didn’t want to do it with Roy, too, especially when there wasn’t a way to see him afterward. Not on his terms, anyway. He’d expected irritation from him, but not quite the bitterness and exhaustion right at the beginning.

“I’m not going to be in here that long,” he said after a stretch of silence. He knew they didn’t have long, that he couldn’t just sit there the rest of the time, so he pressed on. “I just need you to trust me.” Roy: Roy knew immediately that he'd taken it too far. Jason's silence left his own words lingering in the air between them. He winced and leaned his forehead against the palm of his hand. "I'm sorry." What he said was shitty and he would own up to that, especially because I knew why he was on edge. It made him feel even more guilty.

This time he didn't argue with him, even though Jason asking for his trust didn't seem fair in light of an impossible circumstance. Then again, it could be that he already had a plan he couldn't talk about here. "I do trust you," he murmured softly. "I'm just... worried." Jason: “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t think I could handle it.” He thought better of that for a second and added, “You can, too. It’s a few months and I’ll be out.” One way or another, just like he’d said. “I’m not trying to fuck this all up again.” Him and Roy. If he hadn’t believed that they could make the through the prison stint, then he might have considered longer whether or not he should do it, but he’d decided (for once) to be a little optimistic. Had that been completely misplaced? Roy: Instead of the first thing that popped into his head, Roy bit the tip of his tongue and didn't respond. He knew Jason couldn't just handle the court system, but if he intended not to go through any of that at all, then he couldn't exactly explain that here. "Depends on the trial. You know how they drag things out. Deathstroke sure as hell isn't taking a plea." That ramped up the amount of time it would take. Roy knew this dance. "You didn't fuck it up, I'm just not going to jump up and down for joy that you're behind bars." Jason: “I’m just a couple of days into this. If I don’t know how it’s going to go, you don’t either.” And Jason was stubbornly stuck on the idea that it was going to work the way he envisioned it. If it didn’t, what recourse did he have? “I’m not asking you to jump for joy, I’m just...” he ran his tongue out between his lips and looked away from him for a few seconds. “Nevermind. I’m alright. I’m going to come out on the other side of this.” Roy: Roy wasn’t discounting Jason’s point of view entirely, but the situation was looking pretty grim. Regardless, he didn’t come here to fight or make him feel worse. There was nothing to be done about it now and he took a breath. “I’ll still be here when you do. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’d just rather it be sooner rather than later.” Jason: “Me too.” They could at least agree on that point. Jason was giving Gordon and the lawyers what they wanted as quickly as he could do it, but he had no way to move anything beyond that. He hoped that with enough in rapid succession, the rest of the process would happen quickly, too. Maybe he’d be proved wrong, but they weren’t far enough in to know that yet.

Whatever light heartedness that he’d started the visit with had faded by then. “Take care of yourself until I get out of here, okay?” Was there a reason that Dick had been sticking to him like glue, judging by how Roy talked?

They didn’t have much longer before the buzzer. The visit felt shorter than it had with Steph, but maybe that was just because it had been heavier than he was expecting. “I love you,” he said  in that last space of time. The words still felt a little unnatural but not wrong. He just wasn’t thrilled to be saying them in that position. Roy: “Doubt you’re going anywhere any time soon,” Roy said wryly, but he didn’t sound angry. He’d already added himself to the list of callers. Apparently that took a day to get approved, but still, it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t talk. Being without Jason after they’d just reconnected was hardly ideal, but he’d also been without him for years. It wasn’t as if his feelings were changing any time soon.

He tried to smile, but the effort fell flat. For once he wasn’t in the mood to joke. “Roy Careful Harper.” It was what Jason said when he told him the same thing. An answer, but not.

Fuck, that buzzer. Something in his expression wavered when Jason said he loved him and Roy leaned forward, his hand moving to the bars that separated them. “I love you too. And I’m on your call list now, so keep me up to date on all the crazy shit that goes on in here. Nothing like a little jailhouse drama.”

[thepartyresponsible]

fourth drabble! i’m still working on drabbles from this list. this one’s for @izumikouhei​, who asked for tony stark/bruce wayne with 66. “if i die, i’m never speaking to you again.”

for the record, there’s bonus roy harper/jason todd. no real warnings for this one, except that it’s ridiculous and kinda fluffy.

also, i failed spectacularly to keep this one under 1000 words. damn, did i fail.

It could have been anyone and anything, but it’s a kid on a rooftop, out of his mind on fear toxin, and it’s a four-story drop crashing through a poorly-enforced fire escape. Batman ends his nightly patrol with a broken arm and three broken ribs and a concussion so mean he can barely stand up without puking.  

The kid is fine, though. Of course he’s fine. Bruce sacrificed his grappling line to save him.

“Yeah,” Jason says, when he shoulders his way into the Manor, drops his duffel bag at the door, and lets Alfred wrap him in a hug. “Yeah, whatever. Beacons are lit. Gotham calls for aid. Here I am.”

“Oh good,” Tony Stark says, peering inquisitively over Alfred’s shoulder, drinking what is either a glass of orange juice or a casual mid-morning screwdriver. “I was hoping someone sturdy would show up.”

  It should be Dick’s problem, but Dick’s doing something complicated with the Titans that involves a lot of fraught interpersonal dynamics and new uniforms and maybe the apocalypse. It could also be Tim’s problem, except he’s at summer camp with the Teen Titans or whatever the hell they do when they all collectively disappear for a while, and Damian, of course, is around, in the sense that he’s always around, but Jason doesn’t trust Gotham to his tender mercies.

Damian’s a promising enough kid, but he’s also potentially the Antichrist. And if the kid gets killed, Jason’s going to have to deal with Bruce in mourning, and he doesn’t have the stomach for that kind of showy, resolute self-martyrdom anymore.

So it’s Jason’s problem. He packs his bags, lets Roy kiss him goodbye, and then he heads to Gotham. He even has the decency to leave his guns behind. He feels a little stupid about that once he discovers he’s patrolling with Iron Man, but it turns out Stark’s swapped all his ammunition for non-lethal rounds.

“Of course I did,” Stark says, three nights in. Dawn’s slowly bruising the skyline, and they’re drinking ice water on the rooftop of Wayne Manor, trying to cool off after another bullshit night of sweating through their body armor. Stark clears his throat and then drops his voice, approximating Bruce’s Batman-growl with impressive accuracy. “If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same.”

Jason groans and presses the cold glass to his forehead. It doesn’t help as much as he wants it to. “He’s such an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Stark says, with a wide, affectionate grin. “And surprisingly bad at math.”

Jason doesn’t mind working with Stark. He’s like a funhouse mirror version of Bruce: too rich, too smart, too good at what he does, but stretched-out and wrongly-proportioned, all that grim resolve replaced with good-natured purpose, that laser point attention swapped with a cat’s capricious focus.

The Iron Man suit is fun, and Jason wants one of his own, but he’s content to keep dropping his tech on the breakfast table and watching as Stark’s concentration is slowly but inevitably drawn away from his coffee.

“You owe me, like. Hm.” Stark pauses, tips his head. They’re down in the Batcave, and Stark’s upgrading Jason’s rebreather. “Shit, how many things have I fixed for you? What is this? The…seventh? Do you know what my time’s worth?”

“Put it on Bruce’s tab,” Jason suggests. He’s texting Roy, who’s frothing at the mouth trying to get himself an invite. He’s got some kind of bizarre inventor’s crush on Tony Stark.

Stark goes still for a second and then laughs. He stifles it quickly, which is out of character.

When Jason looks up, Stark has his head ducked, mouth flat, and his cover is so egregiously shitty that he might as well be whistling innocuously with his hands in his pockets.

“Huh,” Jason says, just so they’re clear. Just so Stark knows that Jason knows that some weird shit is afoot.

“You know what you need?” Tony says, damn near doing jazz hands in his completely transparent attempt to redirect the conversation. “Repulsors.”

There’s one bad night where Jason lets Scarecrow dose him because getting drugged is better than letting the creep touch Damian, and then Jason’s out of his head, fucked up, clinging to the Iron Man suit while they skim through Gotham.

“Graveyard,” he says, because his mouth is full of imaginary blood and his fingernails feel broken to the nailbed and he’s been screaming for days, for years, for lifetimes. “Don’t take me to the graveyard.”

“Hey, scout,” Tony says, which is offensive. Which is bullshit. Jason is twenty-two years old. “I’m taking you home, okay?”

He takes him to Bruce’s house, and Alfred fusses, and someone asks, “Can I get anyone for you, kid?” and so Jason says, “Roy, I need Roy,” even though he doesn’t, not really, but he knows he’ll feel better if Roy’s there.

And then Roy is there, sitting suited up at Jason’s bedside, bow in hand, and it’s ridiculous, it’s all made-up, it’s fine. But. It’s nice, having someone on watch.

In the morning, Roy steps out to grab breakfast and comes back wide-eyed and red-cheeked. “Holy shit,” he says, under his breath. “Holy shit, Jay, it’s like walking in on your parents.”

And Jason’s got no fucking clue what he means by that, but he’s too wrung out to ask for clarification. He rolls onto his side, lets Roy scramble up into bed beside him, and then he makes soft pathetic noises until Roy pours just the right amount of sugar into his coffee.

Eventually, Bruce gets well enough to become a Goddamn nuisance. As soon as he’s cleared to sit in front of the screens in the Batcave for a couple hours a day, he decides, naturally, to play backseat driver while Jason and Tony run patrol.

He is fucking insufferable.

“Red Hood, on your right—on your right.”

“Iron Man, this is a street brawl, not a dance competition.”

“Hood, you could have shattered his scapula with that. Be careful.”

“Iron Man, the disarming sequence is—no, stop that, I have it right here. Stop it.”

Jason daydreams a lot about punching Bruce in the mouth. Tony Stark, for his part, just laughs and fires back.

“Oh no,” he says, when he’s disarming the bomb that’s supposed to level a city block. “Oh, how clumsy of me.”

“Iron Man,” Bruce says, voice tight.

“Whoops,” Tony says, while Jason coughs into his comm unit to hide his laughter.

“Iron Man,” he says, voice so low and tense that Bruce’s vocal chords might as well be glaciers grinding together.

“Gotham is just so dangerous,” Tony says. “If I die, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Tony,” Bruce says, and there’s something weird in it, something held back.

The bomb goes dead and harmless at Tony’s feet. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says. “But I’m still better with explosives than you are. Don’t play tech support with me.”

The thing is, Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne don’t usually spend time together. They could. They both have that playboy billionaire thing to lean into, and there’s a whole series of archived news articles about their exploits in their early twenties. And Jason remembers, dimly, that Tony came by the house once or twice before that regrettable incident in the desert with the Joker and the crowbar.

Something happened between them after Jason died. Or maybe after Tony had his own regrettable incident in the desert.

“Why’re you here?” Jason asks, finally. Because it’s been three weeks, and Bruce is starting to train like he thinks he’ll be suiting up soon. Which means this vacation is almost over, and Jason’s going back to the Outlaws, and Tony’s going back to the Avengers, and Bruce is going back to brooding on rooftops. “I mean, I’m glad you are. Thanks for the upgrades. But Bruce is kind of an asshole, you know?”

Tony laughs into his coffee. There’s a vaguely evasive look on his face, and he’s smiling for no damn reason at all. “Bruce,” he says, with a shrug. “We grew up together. Even went to the same boarding schools a couple times.”

Jason cannot imagine Bruce as a child. “Before his parents died?” he asks, because that’s the part that seems impossible. Bruce Wayne, as a kid with parents, as someone with a future instead of a mission.

“Sure.” Tony shrugs; his smile disappears. “And after. We went to each other’s parents’ funerals. He brought a flask to mine, even though he never approved of—well. That’s how you know about people, isn’t it? At least with someone like Bruce. When they’ll give in, just a little. Because it’s something you need.”

Jason wouldn’t know about that. After all, the Joker’s still walking.

Although maybe, if he thinks about it, there’s a hundred different ways Bruce has compromised for him. And if he hasn’t done the one thing that would mean the most, maybe that’s because there are parts of yourself you can’t ever give away. Maybe Jason’s old enough to understand that now. Because, in the end, Jason hasn’t killed the Joker either.

“Sure,” he says. But he’s thinking about Roy. He’s thinking about Roy dopesick and shaking and terrified. He’s thinking about Roy, clean and steady and brave.

Tony finally looks over at him. His smile is crooked and fond. “You’re a good kid,” Tony tells him. “You’re all good kids. Don’t know how the hell Bruce managed it. But good for him.”

They were good kids before Bruce Wayne. They would’ve been good kids without Bruce Wayne.

But Jason’s ready to acknowledge, in the privacy of his own head, that maybe they’d also all be dead kids without Bruce Wayne.

Tony Stark stays for a month and a half. He and Bruce spend the last week fighting, loudly and dramatically, over every single improvement Tony’s made to the Batcave while Bruce was too busy trying not to throw up on his shoes to stop him. Jason and Roy sneak down to watch, but Roy keeps getting antsy and dragging Jason out before things can get too heated.

“You’re just not ready,” Roy tells him, earnestly. “Your virgin eyes, Jason. I mean it.”

“My virgin what?” Jason asks, incredulous.

“Your slutty eyes,” Roy amends, conciliatory.

“That’s—wow.” Jason stares at him. “That’s even worse.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby,” Roy says, mock-apologetic. “You know I love how slutty you are.”

“Great,” Jason says. “Awesome. So, we’re breaking up. You can move out tonight. Never speak to me again. It’s been terrible, and I won’t miss you at all.”

“Oh no,” Roy says, eyes wide, sounding so legitimately devastated that Jason has to kiss him, immediately.

Roy snickers into his mouth, which really underscores to Jason how out of his depth he is, how much of him Roy owns completely.

“I hate you,” Jason tells him, because it’s been years but I love you still feels like a jinx, like an invitation to the universe to break his fucking heart.

Roy grins at him, immensely pleased with himself. “Hell yes,” he says, “I love hate sex. Let’s go.”

Jason’s not an idiot. He has an idea of what’s going on. He knows two adult men don’t spend that much time together passionately discussing differences of opinion on technical innovation unless they plan to get naked at some point. He knows what it means when Tony’s eyes go warm and distant like they do sometimes when he talks about Bruce. He knows what it means that Tony’s here at all.

It’s just that he figures Bruce Wayne is fucking everything up, the way he always does. He figures Bruce is crashing headlong through the world in grim, determined pursuit of the best, fastest, most justice-glorifying path from Point A to Point B without realizing that Point C has more merits than he deserves.

He figures it’s one-sided. He figures Bruce is going to break Tony’s heart. He figures Tony’s going to let him, has been letting him.

And then he turns a corner on Tony’s last morning in town and walks right into the kind of goodbye kiss that needs an age restriction warning.

“Oh, Christ,” Jason says and slams his eyes shut. A second later, Roy’s hand slaps down hard across his face, palm wrapping protectively across his eyes. It stings a little, honestly, but Jason forgives him for it. He just wishes he’d been faster.

“Oh God,” Roy says, “I warned you! I told you it’s like walking in on your parents!”

“Stop it.” Jason hisses through his teeth, clinging to Roy’s arm. “Get me out of here, fuck’s sake.”

“Your kids are so cute, Bruce,” Tony says. Jason feels endlessly betrayed by the smug amusement in his voice. He’s been fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with this man for a month and a half, and he had no idea he was such a shameless philanderer.

Jesus, just tongue-deep in each other’s mouths right in the hallway, where God and Alfred and Damian could walk by at any moment.

“Only one of those is mine,” Bruce says. He sounds – terrifyingly – like he is out of breath.

Jason wretches, audibly. Roy hauls him against his chest and starts dragging him to safety, back the way they came.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tony says. His voice is deliberately pitched loud enough to follow them. “Looks like you’ve practically got yourself a son-in-law.”

“Roy,” Jason says, “just kill me. I’m done with this earth.”

“Aw, Jay,” Roy says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Jason’s head, “don’t give up. We’ll go find the Scarecrow, see if he can bleach it outta your head with more of that fear toxin.”

“God willing,” Jason says, low and fervent. 

Jason and Roy go out a window on the second floor, just to be sure they don’t run into Tony and Bruce defiling any other hallways with their goodbyes. Jason’s not proud of it. But he’s finally learned the merits of a well-executed retreat.

It turns out to be unnecessary though, because Tony’s already down in the driveway, climbing into an offensively beautiful red sports car. Jason braces a hand against Roy’s chest to keep him from throwing himself at the hood to get to the engine.

“Hey, kids,” Tony calls, waving jovially. His mouth is very red. Jason is prepared, at this moment, to offer his soul to the multiverse.

“Hey,” Roy says, voice reverent, eyes running all over the car with a licentiousness that would make Jason blind with jealousy if he were looking at a human being.

“Last time Bruce fooled around with someone,” Jason says, “he spawned the Antichrist. So you just think about that the next time you mix your bodily fluids.”

“Oh no, my girlish figure.” Tony does not seem to be taking this as seriously as Jason means it.

“Bodily fluids,” Roy says, under his breath. He doesn’t seem to be taking it seriously, either.

Jason curls his hands around the car door, pins Tony with a look of grave concern. “Listen,” he says. “You deserve so much better than that shithead in there. He’s a disaster. He is the definition of emotional constipation. He knows everyone’s blood type and nobody’s birthday, and he gives up kidney stones easier than personal information, and he absolutely has a plan for how to neutralize you if necessary, and he honestly, legitimately, no-shit thinks that’s what teamwork means.”

“Kiddo, pal, Red Hoodlum,” Tony says, giving Jason’s hand an encouraging pat. “That’s my emotionally constipated shithead disaster in there, and I’d thank you to remember it.”

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to save people from themselves.

Jason steps away from the car and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry you’ve chosen to do this to yourself,” he says. “You seem like a perfectly decent human being.”

“It’s been a real treasure working with you, too, scout,” Tony says. He glances over Jason’s shoulder toward Roy and smiles wider. “And, hey, Wayne-In-Law, if you ever want to talk shop some more, swing by SI. You’d love the labs.”

“Oh my God,” Roy says, very quietly. And then, louder, “Oh, okay, sure! Maybe! Next time I’m in town.”

Tony nods, smiles again, and then turns toward the manor and blows a giant, ridiculous kiss over his shoulder.

And Jason thinks he’s an idiot, thinks he’s just asking to get his heart broken, but there, on the third floor, is the subtle but unmissable shift of curtains falling back. Bruce Wayne was up there, lurking through a final goodbye, and Jason honestly needs to get out of this town immediately.

He climbs on his bike, waits for Roy to do the same. And then, just to see how far this lunacy has spread, he texts Grayson: Did you know Stark and Bruce are fucking?

Dick texts back a string of fruit-themed emojis that Jason instantaneously blanks from his brain. A second later, Dick sends: You didn’t see the pics from Stark Expo???

“Roy,” Jason says, “I love you. Let’s go somewhere with no wifi signal.”

[nancywheelxr]

where the runawaway’s are running the night

"And it wasn’t in vain, three days after his flight arrived at LaGuardia and he already had wrapped everything up. Check out what was going on? Done. Crash a few meetings? Check. Beat up bad guys? Hell to the yeah. Buy useless tourist shit? He presents the “I love New York” shirt he’s wearing as exhibit A, your Honor.

So. All’s well when it ends well. The end. Finish. Fin. Hasta la vista. So long, until never.

Why is he still here, you ask?

Well, it’s not because of Roy. If he’s staying a day longer in New York that has nothing to do with the Titans Tower looming in the distance. Or the fact they’ve been out of town for the last couple of days. Or the rumours whispering they might be back sometime tomorrow morning.

Nope."

or, the one where Jason is in Manhattan with no ulterior motive at all, of course not; Roy is a true paragon of health, no matter what Dick says, no one should listen to Dick like, ever; and Wally is a terrible babysitter.

Jason is in Manhattan, sure, but it’s all business. Strictly business. There’s been chatter about Black Mask operatives making shady negotiations at the Big Apple and Jason, with his ultimate goal in life of fucking up and spiting the man as much as possible, followed.

And it wasn’t in vain, three days after his flight arrived at LaGuardia and he already had wrapped everything up. Check out what was going on? Done. Crash a few meetings? Check. Beat up bad guys? Hell to the yeah. Buy useless tourist shit? He presents the “I love New York” shirt he’s wearing as exhibit A, your Honor.

So. All’s well when it ends well. The end. Finish. Fin. Hasta la vista. So long, until never.

Why is he still here, you ask?

Well, it’s not because of Roy. If he’s staying a day longer in New York that has nothing to do with the Titans Tower looming in the distance. Or the fact they’ve been out of town for the last couple of days. Or the rumours whispering they might be back sometime tomorrow morning.

Nope.

Those are all separate things, yes, happening somewhat near each other. But that’s just coincidence, that’s just life. Shit happens.

And no, the lady doth does not protest too much, fuck you.

Anyway. It’s great, New York is great. He’s having a great time, he stopped two armed robberies on his way and nobody batted an eye. He’s having the time of his life here.

Case in point: someone broke into his newly secured safehouse. And this can only mean two things; either some of Black Mask’s minions came back to try and kick him out or some of Black Mask’s minions decided to crash there without knowing he had taken the place. Either way, Jason gets to kick some ass.

Great.

The door is closed but unlocked, so he goes for kicking it open, enters the living room with guns blazing and--

“What the fuck.”

It’s not Black Mask alright.

“Jaybird, finally!”

Roy Harper is once again standing in his living room and honestly, Jason has no idea how this keeps happening. But then again, the universe does seem to like to screw him over.

“What the fuck, Roy,” he says flatly, putting his gun down, “I could’ve shot you in the face. Jesus Christ, how did you even know I was here?”

“Hey, can’t a guy miss his best friend?” Roy doesn’t even blink at the idea of being shot. That’s just how fucked up their life is. “Besides, I have contacts, you know? I’m kind of a big deal now, nothing happens in this city without me knowing.”

Jason feels obligated to roll his eyes at that stupid grin. He mostly succeeds and it comes off only a little fond. “Sure, hotshot, whatever helps you sleep at night. So I’m assuming Dickface tattled on me?”

“Wally actually. Saw you by the docks last night,” he says, “but your lack of faith? I’m hurt.”

He’s sitting on the couch, in the process of shedding most of his gear, half his guns already on the table. Jason is kind of trying not to look up to where Roy is standing by the window because if he does, he might say something stupid like I missed you or your eyes look very green today and it’s making me dizzy. So instead he chooses to focus on something else, “wait, hold on. Weren’t the lot of you traipsing halfway across the globe?”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know about that,” Roy laughs, but it sounds a little strained, a little tired, a little off, “but sort of? Not all of us, anyway. Your dictator of a brother benched me.”

Jason actually laughs at that, but there’s still something nagging at him because Roy looks tired and his voice is strained and wary, “and Wally too? Damn, what did you explode this time?”

There’s a pause where Roy fidgets and squirms under his gaze. Now, Jason definitely worries. “Roy.”

“It’s nothing, okay? Dick’s just living up to his name.” Jason stops where he is tugging a knife from his left boot and glares until Roy finally breaks, “I swear to god, you bats! He thinks I have the plague so he left Kid Flash to babysit me!”

Jason wants to punch himself in the face. With a chair. Or maybe a brick.

Now that he’s paying attention he can see that the bags under his eyes are way too dark for his normal, his skin is too pale, his eyes too bright not to be running a fever. It’s so obvious, Jason can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.

“Roy, did you sneak out of the Tower in the middle of the night while sick?” he asks, already crossing the room and reaching to check for a fever, “stay still, idiot. What were you even thinking? Stay still.”

Roy swears, batting his hands away, “I’m fine, it’s just a cough. It’s fine.” That would probably have worked, sure. If that cough hadn’t chosen that moment to bubble up. It wracks his lungs until he’s doubling over and swaying unsteadily way too close to an open window.

Roy coughs and coughs and coughs, and Jason guides him gently to the ridiculously expensive couch, sitting him down. It makes his chest ache in sympathy, because damn, that sounds painful, and there isn’t much Jason can do, so he does what he can, he rubs his back in what he hopes is a soothing motion and holds his hair back, away from his face.

“Just a cough, right,” Jason scowls, because it’s better than let all the worry bleed into his eyes, “I can hear your lungs rattling everytime you breathe and you’re running a fever. How the fuck did you manage to sneak out? I’m killing West after this.”

“To be fair,” he rasps out, panting and trying to catch his breath, “I’m a genius.”

“Yeah, the dumbest genius I know,” Jason says, “come on, get up, we’re going to the hospital.”

“No,” Roy snaps, hands flying to grasp at Jason, trying to get him to stay there, “no hospitals. ‘m fine.”

“Roy. In our line of work, this could be anything from a nasty cold to some alien poison. You need to get this checked out.”

“Jaybird, you don’t understand,” he grimaces, “people’s been nagging for weeks. It’s driving me insane.”

“You’ve been like this for weeks?” Jason says, only mostly hysterical, so he counts it as a win, because he is going to have a stroke anytime now and it’s all going to be Roy’s fault, “that’s it. We’re leaving now and I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

“Okay, you clearly missed the point there, but get this: I’m fine. Seriously. Listen, I didn’t come here to-”

Whatever it is Roy’s about to say is lost to another coughing fit that leaves him with sweat on his forehead and panting out of breath. It’s worse than the last one, and when it’s finally over, he collapses against Jason, shivering and gasping.

The silence stretches on and on and on, like a rubber band about to snap, and Jason hates it, finds it unsettling, wrong, because Roy is never silent or still or quiet. “Man, this isn’t fine.”

A pause. Then a sigh, “look, I just need to sleep it off. It’ll be better in the morning. I swear.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Jason heaves a sigh of his own, he’s learned to pick his battles, “I’ll let you go the fuck to sleep now but I’ll call Dr.Thompkins first thing in the morning and we will do whatever she says. But if this gets worse during the night? We’re going straight to the hospital.”

Roy takes a moment to consider, but another cough passes his lips and well, he knows how to pick his battles too. “Fine. But just for the record? You suck.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry for caring, how horrible of me,” Jason gets up, helping Roy up and steering him to one of the bedrooms, “come on, up you go. Let’s get you to a real bed.”

“Fucking mother hens, all of you,” he grumbles, but gets under the covers, “I swear, is it a bat thing?”

“No, Roy,” Jason says, “it’s a love thing. Now sleep, you’ll feel better. Hopefully.”

He’s finished fretting over the blankets and is about to leave when a hand wraps around his wrist. “Stay?” And it’s so soft and quiet and vulnerable, and Roy is looking up at him with impossibly green eyes and so much hope and--

“Scoot over, but if you infect me with your germs, I’m literally kicking you out.”

Roy smiles, now that he’s laid down sleep is already clinging at the edges and turning it softer, and Jason lets him sink against his chest, shares body heat and comfort, even if his heart is squeezing painfully against his ribcage.

But his mind is still nagging at him, and he can’t sleep, can’t let go, so he asks quietly, “why did you come here?”

Eyes still closed, lips curled up, comes the reply, “needed to get out. Inside too long. Drivin’ me crazy.”

“Hm. Still, call me next time? I’ll come and get you. Should take better care of yourself. Sneaking out at 2am isn’t good. Idiot.”

When Roy doesn’t say anything else, Jason assumes he’s fallen asleep, but before he can say something embarrassing, “wanted to see you. Before you left. Wanted to say g’bye.”

“You’re an idiot, Roy.” Jason pokes him in the ribs, “but I missed you too. But never do anything like this ever again. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

There’s a quiet laugh and then Roy shifts, and Jason circles his arms around him without thinking, pressing him closer, close enough to feel the coughs wracking his body and the shivers they leave behind, but Roy hums pleased, so he lets it be.

The thing about New York is that there’s a reason people call it the city that never sleeps. Even here, on a penthouse at almost 3 in the morning, he can hear cars speeding by, sirens in the distance, loud voices walking below. They never closed the curtains, so the artificial lights from the building in the front cast shadows in Roy’s face, making him look paler, sicker, pained, and Jason worries and worries and worries.

He hates feeling helpless, hates seeing him like this, and Jason isn’t sure where they’re  standing right now, what they are doing, what they are. It’s not- they’ve been walking in this tightrope, on the edge of something, but he isn’t sure, and Jason doesn’t know how to take a leap of faith; the stakes are too high, there’s too much to lose, and he can’t come up with a good enough contingency plan. Batman used to say you have to be prepared for everything, but how do you prepare for this?

So, there’s not much he can do, not tonight, not now, except take care of him as best as he can, because Roy is an idiot and Jason doesn’t trust the Titans to know how to handle this, can’t trust them to do this, not when they didn’t notice their patient hacking his lungs out sneaking out in the middle of the night, not when Roy’s phone has been silent the whole time. Clearly this new team of his is made out of morons, but then again, Jason should’ve known this, they’re being led by Dick “decided leaving Wally fucking West as a babysitter is a good idea” Grayson, after all.

Roy mumbles in his sleep, brows furrowing, so Jason pulls him closer, kisses his temple, whispers you’re gonna be fine and I’m here over and over like a mantra until the wrinkles on his forehead smoothen and his breathing evens out again.

Maybe in the morning everything will look better, and even if Jason can’t see his own phone from here, he has Dr.Thompkins on speed dial anyway and the nearest hospital is only five minutes away, less since he’s the one driving. So yeah, maybe it’s gonna be fine, he has to trust Roy to know if this is just a nasty cold, and if it isn’t, this is something he has a thousand contingency plans for.

With little else to do, Jason waits and hopes and worries.

*

part 1 ( x )

[cattwomannn]

Without You (Jason Todd x Reader)

Request: “Can you do a Jason Todd x Reader where they get into their first fight?”- anon

 Warning(s): language

 A/N: So basically, this took forever for me to do because I wrote the whole thing, was ready to post it, decided I hated it, and redid it all. So, I apologize for not posting anything in forever! I’m the worst. Lol.

 Y/N- Your Name

Y/N/N- Your Nick Name

 ________________________________________________________________

 It had been weeks since you’d heard back from Jason. He was out on another one of his missions with Roy and Kori somewhere dangerous. It always scared the hell out of you when he left, your thoughts always wandering to the darkest scariest corner of your mind.

What if he’s injured, or been captured, or god forbid what if he’s dead?

You shutter just thinking about it.

 You had just gotten home from work, where it was impossible to focus on anything but Jason. Eventually your boss had gotten tired of you zoning out during your shift, and let you go early. You couldn’t even blame him. What good were you if you couldn’t perform a simple task without being distracted by the idea of Jason maybe never coming home?

It’s not like Jason had never gone MIA before, because he had. But never for this long… he almost always found a way to get into contact with you, and if he personally couldn’t talk to you, he’d make sure someone else gave you the message.

But this time no one had called, or texted, or anything, and the worry was eating away at you.

 You walked up to the home the two of you shared, hoping and praying you’d open the door and see him standing there, but when you went in all you found was your empty apartment. You sighed, threw your keys and jacket onto the table and shuffled off to your room.

As soon as you made it to the bed you realized how exhausted you were… worrying really took all the energy out of you. You pulled back the comforter and crawled in, curling up into a ball under the sheets and soon falling asleep.

 It wasn’t even an hour later when you woke and heard a loud thump come from the opposite side of the room, you froze in terror. There was someone in your apartment and you had no way to defend yourself. You instantly regretted all the times you’d turned Jason down when he offered to help you learn how to fight. Suddenly you remembered the baseball bat you had stashed under the bed, for situations just like this. You quietly reached your arm out from underneath your blankets and blindly searched for the bat. When your hand reached it, you knew you had to work fast. You got a good grip on your weapon and lunged off the bed, closed your eyes, and swung the bat wildly at whoever had broken in through your window.

The person yelped out in pain but ultimately snatched the bat out of your hands and threw it to the floor. You were about to scream when they put their hands on your shoulders and spoke.

“Y/N! Stop! It’s me!” they shouted.

You recognized the voice, and quickly opened your eyes to see your boyfriend standing in front of you. You almost collapsed in relief.

“Jesus… you hit really hard.” He mutters, walking over to the light switch and flipping it on.

You looked him up and down, he seemed to be fine, if anything he’d have a couple of bruises in the morning, but otherwise unscathed.

 Once you were sure that he was okay, your relief turned to anger. He could see it by the look on your face that he was in trouble.

“I can explain…” he said, putting his hands up in defense.

“Oh, I’m sure…” you respond sarcastically.

Jason sighs and goes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Baby, please. Can we do this tomorrow? I’m exhausted. I want to talk, I do. But I can’t even think straight right now.” He says, using his best puppy dog eyes on you.

But it only makes you angrier. Not only did Jason disappear for weeks without a trace, but now he wasn’t even trying to take you seriously. Any other day, you’d agree. You’d never had a real fight with Jason before, but you had a feeling tonight was gonna be your first.

You turned around without answering him, and walked into your closet, leaving him sitting there utterly confused.

You came out a few minutes later fully dressed.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his brows furrowing together.

“You can sleep, I’m going to stay at Barb’s for the night.” You muttered before walking out the bedroom door.

With that Jason jumps up from his spot on the bed, following you out.

“Hey, wait!” he shouts after you.

You spin around on your heel’s, stopping so fast that Jason almost runs right into you.

“What’s going on with you? I know I was gone longer than expected, but I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…” he confess’, trying to understand what’s going on.

“That’s really why you think I’m mad? No, Jason. I’m mad because you were gone for two weeks, and I had no idea if you were okay. You didn’t call, you didn’t text, hell I would’ve settled for fucking carrier pigeon. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat, I couldn’t even focus long enough to get anything done at work…” you trail off, you can feel yourself getting worked up now, but you can’t stop.

“Babe… I’m so sorry. I just got really busy, I didn’t think it’d affect you that much.” he mumbles.

At this point you’re crying, angry tears more than anything.

As soon as Jason notices, he steps forward and tries to pull you into his arms, but you push away from him.

“I never would’ve put you through something like this, and if I did my explanation would be a lot better than a simple ‘I got busy’…” you say through the tears.

“Y/N/N…” he frowns, feeling guilty.

More than anything he wanted to protect you, and make you happy. The fact that he was the source of your pain killed him.

Finally, you wipe the tears from your eyes and grab your things.

“I have to leave… I have to go before I say something that I’ll regret in the morning. You should get some sleep, you look exhausted.” And with that you opened the door and left, leaving Jason standing alone in your dark empty apartment.

  The next morning you wake early, thank Barbara for letting you crash on her couch, and leave for home. You got about as much sleep as you had expected you would, which was not a lot. You spent most of the night just staring at the ceiling thinking about Jason. Thinking about how maybe you had overreacted, more than anything you just wanted to be cuddled up in your bed together watching crappy tv and eating copious amounts of junk food. But at the same time, Jason hurt you, and he seemed to not understand why, which only made you more upset.

Once you arrived at the apartment, you walked in as quietly as you could, trying not to make too much noise. But as soon as you closed the door behind you, you heard a hoarse voice call out your name, and saw Jason sit up on the couch.

“What are you doing? Why didn’t you sleep in the room?” you ask, setting your stuff down, and go to sit down next to him.

“I didn’t want to sleep in the bed without you…” he says, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice.

As soon as he says this you can feel all the anger from the night before melt away. And from his tone it was obvious you weren’t the only one who had stayed up all night.

“Oh, Jason…” you sigh.

He looks over at you, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than usual.

You turn to him cupping his face in your hands, and bring your lips to his giving him a soft kiss.

“Let’s get you to bed… Okay? We can talk about this later…” you say, grabbing his hand and standing up, but he pulls you back down next to him.

“No… I need you to know that I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I don’t ever want to make you feel like I don’t care ever again. You’re one of the most important people in my life and I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.” He says, staring down at your hands in his.

A small smile spreads across your face as you speak.

“Jason… you silly boy. You’re never going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere any time soon. I was just worried, and when I saw that you were okay it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. But it also let me realize how angry I was at you for not at least letting me know you were alive… I don’t think I could ever go through that again. Losing you the first time was hard enough.” You explain.

“I love you.” he says, kissing you again.

You sigh into the kiss, this was all you had wanted to do for weeks, and now he was here, and it was perfect.

“I love you too.” You say, with heavy eyes.

When you pull away, you yawn, making Jason laugh.

“Don’t you yawn, you’re gonna make me-“ but before he can finish his sentence he yawns as well.

You laugh too, and pull on his arm once again, this time he stands up with you.

“Come on, love. Let’s go to bed.” You smile, and make your way to the bedroom where the both of you get the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: The Arrangement

A/N: Hopefully, this isn’t as bad as I think it is. It’s on Wattpad and now I’ve posted it on here. Also a fem!reader, I usually try to keep them neutral but I couldn't with this. My apologies.

Warnings: Language, implied sexual content.

>>>>——————>

An arrangement. That’s all it was. That’s all it was supposed to be. This ‘thing’ you had with Jason, it didn’t mean anything - it was just sex. Like how Roy and Kori had no strings attached, Jason and you did the same and it was great. It’d just happen sometimes and particularly after long missions or for stress relief because you both knew you needed it with everything that was going on in your chaotic lives.

How it started was somewhat blurry, you were all at the bar and had downed a couple of drinks when Roy and Kori ‘disappeared’ leaving Jason and you behind. This was fine, you were both good friends and would joke around often so the situation was never awkward. It was a woman that came up to Jason, she was dressed in a slutty/sexy dress, the details are kind of fuzzy - she asked him home with her but he refused saying he didn’t want to leave you here alone. It’s a bar, it’s Gotham, it’s late, and you’re a female. Not a good combination at all and he’d be damned if he was going to just up and leave you for this woman.

“Are you fucking her or something?” The woman interrogated after Jason had told her no, you were outraged because simply inquiring if you were his girlfriend would’ve been nicer! Jason, put an arm in front of you as you went to get up, you had a few and were more hot tempered he presumed, silently telling you he’s got this one. “Look, I would never fuck her.” Jason responded, taking a glance to you before saying so. The woman smirked, and you were slightly offended - very offended because hey you’re right here. “I mean I would, but it’d be sex or making love, I don’t know. I have too much respect for her to simply fuck her. You on the other hand… Now that’s a different story.” Jason explained further, you were honoured and the woman stormed off.

You walked back together after another drink, neither of you were 100% sober but you weren’t tipsy or drunk either so you were completely stable walking home. By the time you’d got back you had forgotten to say thanks so you kissed him on the cheek and did just that. Jason stared at you for a moment, then his lips crashed into yours and you kissed back, this lead to you being pinned against the wall with your legs hung on his hips as he continued to kiss you. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because you’re going to have to stop me now if you don’t want this to go further (y/n).” Jason kindly inquired once he’d briefly removed his attention from lavishing the sweet spot on your neck to hear your response. “Yes I’m sure, it doesn’t have to mean anything.” You breathlessly replied, and so you both continued after he carried you to your room.

Thankfully, you were up first and your bed was empty when you awoke - as per usual you made yourself a drink and sat at the table when Jason walked out of his room. “Jay, I had the weirdest dream last night - me and you…” You began, thinking that it might’ve actually been a dream since there was no evidence but upon seeing Jason so relaxed when he’d got up and sending you a confused look you guessed it happened. You slept with your friend last night.

“It wasn’t a dream was it?” Jason shook his head in reply whilst you laid your forehead on the table, closing your eyes and sighing. “C'mon (y/n), I wasn’t that bad.” The man joked, attempting to lighten your mood. “No you were great, the sex was exceptional.” You complimented calmly, Jason was smirking. Big time. It went on from there, you found it benefitted you both.

You were apart of the Outlaws anyway, so you had a good friendship with Jason that wasn’t at all affected by what you were both doing - you’d sleep together (with protection of course) and pretend it didn’t happen, nothing would change. You assumed Roy and Kori knew, just as you both knew about them but these arrangement’s didn’t affect the dynamic of the team in any way - they were what they were and made you all feel better in some form, so there was no issues with it. One of you was always gone by the time morning arrived depending on who’s room you were in, not once did either of you make it more than it was and you liked it that way. It was a good arrangement.

However, over time it had started to change, you honestly thought it’d be you who gave in but shockingly it was Jason. It was his room this time, after a rough fight with a gang and once you’d cleaned yourselves up things escalated from there - it was amazing, it was always amazing but afterward when you slowly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed in order to to slip out of his room, he spoke.

“Stay (y/n).” Jason’s voice was soft, though his breathing a little ragged due to recent activities. This had never happened, ever so you being speechless was a severe understatement. His arms were propped behind his head whilst he stared up at the ceiling, the sheets reaching tantalisingly low on his abdomen meaning his abs were still on show. You didn’t know what on Earth compelled you to stay with him that night but you did, you laid yourself back down on the bed next to him and slipped yourself under the sheets for extra warmth, falling asleep soon after.

Sunlight filtered through the window the next morning stirring you from your sleep, you took a brief glance at your unfamiliar surroundings muttering a quick “Shit.” upon realising where you were. That wasn’t the strangest aspect of the situation though, you were warm - especially on your back and regretfully it was originating from Jason. His arm situated around your waist holding you very close to him, he was nuzzled into the nape of your neck and you could feel his every breathe against your ear. “Shit…”

Carefully you tried to remove yourself from his grip, it was difficult because Jason was strong so doing your best to get out without stirring him was impossible since you soon felt him place soft kisses to your neck and shoulder during your struggle. Immediately you froze, and he knew it - he released his hold, allowing you to roll onto your back with a questioning look as he was hovering over you.

In your description, Jason wore a lopsided grin before resuming his work on your shoulder and collarbone then working his way up. Again, it baffled you as to why you gave into him by tilting your head so he’d have better access to your neck but you did. Jason soon reached your lips and began to kiss you passionately then slowly pulled away after a minute or so. “What? You up for round 2 or something Jay?” You asked with a hint of sarcasm in your husky morning voice. It confused you further when he shook his head signalling that that wasn’t what he wanted, he placed a final lingering kiss to your lips and got up.

After that night, you both began to stay with one another more frequently after having sex, with the results varying from time to time. Occasionally they resulted in a round 2 or 3, you’d both just get over it or there’d be sarcastic remarks thrown. “Leaving so soon?” He voiced as you went to leave the room. “I should’ve left sooner.” A true statement, and you both knew that but couldn’t accept it. “I think you’re getting attached to me. I don’t blame you of course.” Jason remarked, gesturing to his body. “Yeah well I wasn’t the one who asked myself to stay Jason - I think you’re getting attached.” You wittily replied, shutting his door behind you. “Maybe…”

It had been a few months since the whole thing had started and you could feel that there was something different about it in the recent weeks, it wasn’t how it used to be. The only way you could explain it is how it wasn’t just sex anymore, there was something else that came with it but exactly what that was still eluded you. Although it was probably for the best if you didn’t dwell on them, or voice you concerns to Jason and happily left your questions unanswered.

With all of that pushed to the back of your mind like usual you continued with the operation to take out one of Black Mask’s shipments that would earn him a lot of money. The Outlaws just couldn’t resist not jumping this one, so you soon found yourself fighting a bunch of drug smugglers on the docks. It was going well until Red Hood captured your attention with yet another sarcastic statement. Great.

“I’ve done something stupid!” Red Hood yelled mid way through the brawl.

“Again?!” The sarcasm flowed from your lips as you punched a thug in the jaw.

“I’m serious. This is probably the worst.” The vigilante responded, matching your tone. “I’m always fixing your problems, so would you just spill!” You dodged a bullet shot, but still managed a reply before disarming the guy.

“You can’t fix this one (y/n), you can either make it better or worse.” Red Hood managed, tone more serious as he landed a kick to someone’s gut.

“It can’t be that bad, who or what does it involve.” “Us - you and me.”

“There’s an us?” You questioned with an upbeat attitude, ducking under a punch and sent the attacker to the floor with a brisk kick to the groin the quickly rolling out of the range of another bullet.

“You’re missing the point.” He stated a matter-of-factly causing you to scowl. “Then tell me the damn point.”

“It’s not that easy!” Red Hood was beginning to get frustrated, you could tell. “You’re making it complicated.” You happily retorted, performing a drop kick. “Trust me, I’m not!”

“I can be the judge of that if you’d tell me!” You yelled, evidently you were starting to get annoyed with the lack of information you’d obtained.

“I can’t!” “Why not?!” You pushed further, sliding across the ground to pick up an abandoned gun to shoot your attackers and maybe defend your teammates if they needed it.

“I’m not sure how to!” It must be something Jason doesn’t like talking about was the theory you’d acquired based on his justification. “Just say it!” “No!” “C'mon Jason!!!”

“I fell in love with you!”

That statement completely threw you off and you kneed the last person in the face so they fell to the floor unconscious leaving you dumbfounded, shocked and slowly turning to Red Hood who was taking off his helmet.

“What? No, that can’t happen - you couldn’t have, shouldn’t have… How did it?!” You panicked, apparently in denial about his love for you because it shouldn’t exist.

“I don’t know how love fucking works (y/n), but it sucks! One second I’m with my friend and the next I’m waking up with this beautiful woman in bed with me, the morning sun is hitting her skin and honestly she looks like a vision. Her (h/c) hair is tousled because of me from the night before but it looks so sexy, she gets up to stretch wearing a (f/c) camisole and I’m taken with her because at that moment I’m realising she’s everything to me. I couldn’t help it, I was up and inches away from her in seconds, both of us still tangled in the sheets and she’s smiling at me, blushing and looking away asking me what was wrong - and she looked so perfect. Then I was kissing her, my lips were on hers in an instant and I’m pushing her back down onto the bed because I didn’t know how to tell her I’d just accepted that she was the love of my life.”

“I remember that…” You quietly acknowledged, still at a loss for words after reminiscing on the month old memory Jason had beautifully described.

“Say something. Please.” “I - I don’t know, this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. No strings attached.” You rushed, the point of the justification still unknown but by the look on Jason’s face - it hurt him.

“So you haven’t felt it? It’s not just sex to me anymore (y/n).” His voice was cracking toward the end and you knew feelings and emotions weren’t his favourite things to discuss.

“I have, and me neither. There’s something there, and as much as I try to deny it… I love you too Jay.” You whispered, the last part rolling off of your tongue and Jason was ecstatic to hear those words even if his expression didn’t show it.

Instead he pulled you in for a lingering kiss, making sure to let everyone know that you were officially his girl now. The hand that didn’t hold his helmet went to the small of your back pulling you against him so he could continue to kiss you. “This probably wasn’t the best place to confess your love for each other y'know.” Roy claimed, lightly nudging the arm of an unconscious thug.

[wellthatjusthappend]

Small Bump

Read on AO3

He hadn’t known.

He hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault. He’d have been more careful if he known. Jason had to keep telling himself that or he’d go crazy. But he hadn’t known and now….

Everything was the same as it had always been and at the same time changed forever.

Jason ground his teeth together. He was far too young to be getting back pain like this. Probably a product of his oh so healthy lifestyle or whatever but still… fuck that really hurt. He tried to shift conspicuously arch his back a bit and then hunch down again as he perched on the edge of a building and kept an eye on the weapons deal that was in process down below. Jeez there didn’t seem to be a comfortable position. His stomach was cramping too, he was used to ignoring that. Probably just his period deciding that it was going to start in the next couple days. Finally. Jason was starting to think maybe he should actually do that counting crap doctors always advised ‘cause guestimations got really old sometimes. He thought it was supposed to come a few weeks ago but with all the stress he was often under as well as the hormone altering substance he took to keep his low heats mild enough that he could keep working through them… well, it wasn’t that weird to miss it completely.

Omega’s went into a mild heat once every three months. These heats easy enough to ignore. In fact, Jason had traveled across the country and broken up a trafficking ring during the height of his last one before coming back when Dick called him about Tim not coping well with his break-up with Kon. Those heats weren’t a problem. He was a bit more aggressive in heat, a little more prone to be nauseated, ran warmer, got dehydrated a little easier, his sex drive a little heightened. It was only in the high heat called Aestus that came once a year that ever got in Jason’s way. Man, that one always took him down for the count pretty bad. He tended to get really sick. It was like an overdose of his hormones and a hyper fertility that actually just made him really sensitive and pretty much hate life.

Fortunately he still had, like, 4 months till his next Aestus… actually, maybe more like 3 ½? Whatever, it’d be 3 months from whenever his next heat showed up. His body wasn’t super consistent, as stated, so he didn’t see the point of keeping track. He could feel when it was coming and that’s all that mattered.

“You okay there Jaybird?” asked Roy shooting him a look. The other Omega was helping him with a case recently and Jason had to admit it was kinda nice sometimes to know someone had his back again. Even if he did spend a lot of time dragging Roy’s ass out of trouble.

“Don’t worry about it Harper, just that time of the month.” Jason waved him away.

“Ah, yeah, Aunt Flow is a bitch, ain’t she?” Roy commiserated making a face.

“Mmhmm,” hummed Jason checking his guns quickly before standing. He considered popping a painkiller, but those things made him groggy and he needed his wits about him, “Let’s do this.”

He didn’t wait to see if Roy was following him, just shot out a line and descended into the fray. The first 5 thugs went down without a problem. By the 6th the surprise had worn off and Jason actually had to grapple with a bit before he went down and 7th tried to jump him. That one went down with a shout and an arrow. Jason grinned and continued to deal with the punks in front of him while Roy took care of the couple of fucks stupid enough to try and run for it. Things seemed like they were going to wrap up very neatly… then the bulky muscle for hire he was fighting with got in a lucky hit to his abdomen. It wasn’t even that hard. It should have just knocked the wind out of him for a moment but instead-

Jason’s vision whited out with pain  and he thought he might have screamed.

Distantly he was aware of Roy yelling and his opponents going down sharply with arrows. Unfamiliar constricting pain hitting him in waves. Jason realized his forehead was pressed into the gravel and that he was breathing wetly through his mouth. His hands were both clutched against his stomach clawing uselessly at the armor. He didn’t know where his guns were. Jason tried to move but that seemed to only make the pain intensify and… and there was something hot and wet on his thighs, pooling slowly on the ground between his knees. He curled up tighter as he caught the tang of blood in the air. Not just blood either, his terrified brain informed him as another wave of clawing pain hit his lower stomach making everything constrict and tense even further.

“Jay! Jay, where are you hurt? What happened?” Jason opened his eyes blurrily as Roy rolled him onto his back and pulled off his hood. If he had come here alone tonight he’d probably be dead by now. That didn’t make it any easier when Roy gave a sharp intake of breath when he realized where the blood was coming from, when his nostrils flared taking in the way this blood was different from regular blood, when he started putting together the pieces the way Jason was still refusing to because godgodgod that couldn’t be-

“Roy,” He croaked knowing his eyes must look fucked up right about then, knowing- “Roy- shit! Ah-! Fuck. Fuck! Why is there so much blood? There shouldn’t be-”

“God, Jaybird, we have to get you to a hospital-” Roy said starting to try and gather him up, not an easy task since Jason was hardly small and dainty.

“No! No hospitals!” Jason started struggling, “They’ll ask too many questions, I have too many scars-”

“Fuck, Jason I don’t know much about miscarriages but I know you need help if you bleeding this much and I don’t have the training to deal with this.” Roy said looking harassed and worried.

Jason went very still.

“I can’t be having a miscarriage.” Jason said clutching at his armor over his stomach so his hands wouldn’t shake, “I can’t. That’s impossible. You have to be pregnant to have a miscarriage.”

“Oh, Jay…”

“No! You don’t understand, I can’t have been pregnant! There would have been signs. I would have, I would have noticed.” He tried to explain. Except looking back there had been signs. Not anything as obvious as morning sickness, but he’s been kinda tired all the time lately, he'd gained weight, yet his favorite foods hadn’t been sounding good lately, his fucking period still not coming, and when Dick had been over last time he had mentioned that Jason was running a little warm…

God. Dick.

What was he supposed to tell him? How would he react? They weren’t even together together, though Jason had been thinking lately that maybe… maybe… but fuck! There was no way the baby had been Dick’s. The Beta had never topped him before. Which meant it was-had been Tim’s. And fuck if that didn't make everything feel worse.

Roy looked even more concerned as Jason started laughing slightly hysterically through the pain that was still wrecking him. It didn’t even matter though because he’d lost the baby. He’d… he’d lost… his baby… He’d…

The laughter petered out to be replace by one small hitch of breath. Then another. And another.

Jason’s communicator started

“Arsenal here,” Roy answered it sounding harassed.

“Someone called in that Red Hood collapsed in a fight near the Docks.” he could hear Batman growl dark and protective and straight to the point. He could see Roy struggle not to tilt his head submissively even the Alpha wasn’t even there.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. That was fast. Of course it was Gotham so of course the Bat had ears everywhere. He was just lucky this area didn’t have any cameras for Oracle to see him or no doubt the whole pack would be converging on him and that was the last fucking thing he needed.

“I-” Roy began uncertainly.

“No. Please, Roy they can’t-” Jason began to implore.

“Jay, it is a better than the hospital.” Roy said holding away the comm.

“Oh yeah? And if you were in my position and it was Connor's baby and you had to choose between going to Ollie and-” Jason glared at him.

“Okay, okay, point.” Roy said wincing and raising the comm, “We’re fine Batman.”

“Let me speak to Jason.” Bruce growled.

“Erm…” Roy glanced at Jason.

“Give it.” Jason said through gritted teeth, he snatched the comm and quickly spat out, “I’m fine. Fuck off and mind your own business B.”

“Jas-” Jason crushed the comm and flopped back onto the gravel trying to breathe through the pain and not to think too much about what was happening because if he did he was going to start falling apart.

“That’s one way to end a conversation. But Jay,” Roy’s voice was worried, “You’re not fine.”

“I’ll- I’ll only need a hospital or something if I start losing too much blood.” Jason tried to tell him. He honestly was trying not to yell as each contraction peaked, and maybe that was a sign that he should be listening to Roy, but- if he went to a hospital the whole family would know about it in minutes.

“You’re already losing too much blood.” Roy said firmly, “It’s not like you’re losing it through natural means. Physical trauma is a whole other ballpark. I think? Fuck, Jaybird I don’t like having your health and wellbeing dependent on my sketchy knowledge on miscarriages.”

“Fine!” Jason gasped out, “Call someone, but no one that will tell my pack.”

“That really doesn’t leave us many options.” Roy said in frustration, “Do you- owowoOW! Hand! Hand! That’s my hand!”

“Fuck.” Jason  choked clutching at the other Omega’s hand as he rode the next wave of pain out.

“Ok. Ok. What I’m gonna do is I’m gonna call Kori, ok? Then whatever the princess says you gotta do.” Roy said getting out his own comm. Jason nodded but he wasn’t sure if Roy was paying attention, just talking fast. In the meantime, Jason tried to do some of those deep meditative breathing things Bruce was always preaching about. Didn’t really seem to be doing anything, but Jason needed something to focus on while he waited.

“Who did this!?” heard Kori bellow when she arrived. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to listen as words like “baby” and “dead” and “leave before bats gets here” were quickly explained.

And then suddenly the solid ground was not below him.

“Fuck!” Jason winced as he was lifted into the air as Starfire flew off with him at high speed.

“Roy is staying to get rid of the evidence so your pack does not cause you trouble.” Kori informed him, “Meanwhile, we shall be safe on my Island. There is plenty of medical supplies and they know better than to bother us there.”

“Thanks.” Jason let his head sag on her shoulder and let her impressive heat sooth some of the pain. It seemed like no time before they were touching down between the tropical branches on Kori’s Island and she was walking into her ship and laying him down on a cot.

Letting her peel him out of his armor and weapons felt very… not great. Which it probably shouldn’t have. Like, they had slept together before and she’d seen him naked loads of times. It shouldn’t have been, but it still felt humiliating for her to see him like this.

Still, when he thought of some stranger or worse Alfred and/or Bruce seeing him like this… yeah, no Jason wasn’t complaining.

“Drink this,” Kori handed him a cup, “It should loosen your muscles to let pass what needs to pass.”

“Thanks.” Jason took it gratefully and drank.

“The amount you’re bleeding is a little concerning. But so long as it slows in the next hours or so then I don’t think we need to worry.” Kori informed him sliding up next him, warm and alien and fantastically Kori.

“That’s what I tried to tell Roy.” Jason mumbled. Before he could get too comfortable in the interesting blend of hard muscles and soft curves that made up Kori, the computer on the wall chimed.

“Ah, it’s Dick. He wishes to know if you are well, and if he should come.” Kori read. Because of course the bats knew he was here. Though, so long as they didn’t figure out why he was here he didn’t care. Still, Jason didn’t know what he was supposed to say to his Beta lover.

‘ Oh hey Dick, just hanging here bleeding while Tim and my baby dies. No worries though. How was your dinner today?’   didn’t seem like it’d be proper.

“Tell him I have the flu and I’ll see him when I’m better.” Jason told Kori instead. She nodded and typed quickly.

“He wants to know if ‘the flu’ is code word for dying.” Kori said after a moment.

“Well tell him that you and Roy would never let me get away with lying if that was the case.” Jason said grimacing as a set of milder yet still extraordinarily painful contractions set in.

“Of course we wouldn’t!” Kori huffed.

“I know, and so does Dick, so remind him.” Jason told her, closing his eyes and just… existing for a moment. He felt more than heard Kori drift back to his side. Felt the concern radiating from her. Felt the hot wet of blood and other things on his thighs...

“Oh.”

“What?” frowned Jason exhausted.

“You’ve passed the foetus.” Kori said cupping something from the sheets between his legs, “Would you like-”

“No.” Jason said panic rising, “No. Kori, I can’t.”

Kori looked at him steadily with her big alien green eyes before nodding slowly, “Very well. One moment please.”

She left the room with the- with his- Jason rolled to his side grabbed a trashcan and threw up. Bad idea. He’d never really thought much about how throwing up took abdominal muscles but boy was he thinking about it now. He let himself go limp, then tensed again as the pain came back.

“Fuck, fuck the baby is gone. It’s gone, okay? So you can fucking stop now.” Jason told his body angrily.

“It still has to pass the rest of the placenta.” Kori reminded him as she came back in.

“I guess.”

“And then we’ll have to monitor you to make sure you don’t keep bleeding and don’t get an infection.” Kori continued.

“Ok.”

“Jason…” Kori rubbed gentle circles into his shoulder, “When you can get better we’ll bury her. So you may have some closure.”

“Her? You could already already tell…?” Jason asked hollowly.

“Yes, she looked about 13-14 weeks from what the computer tells me about human biology. Of course no way to tell what her caste would have been though.” Kori told him turning him so she could tuck clean sheets under him and toss aside the soiled ones.

“Oh.” Jason said. A girl. He would’ve… and 13-14 weeks; that meant it was that first time with Tim after his heat… well, evidently not as after as he’d thought. Jason wasn’t sure what he felt about that. On the one hand, he was glad he had never let Dick top now even though he'd been thinking he might- but at least it wasn’t Dick’s because he already felt like he was in danger of being in love with him. And nearly having a family with him? That felt… it would have felt like the noose that choked him to death. He wasn’t ready for that. Dick would have wanted to keep it. Would have wanted to raise it… her, with him. Dick would have cried that he lost her. Heck, Dick would still cry even though it wasn’t even his. Jason didn’t plan to tell him. Tim… Tim probably would have panicked about this even more than Jason. After all, even though they’d brought Tim into their bed a number of times since that first test run, Tim was still- he was still struggling to put himself back together after his break-up. Dick and Jason were supposed to be helping with that. And even though Jason was no longer the love of Tim’s young life(or at least he was pretty sure he wasn’t?), he’d still wanted to offer… love, safety, acceptance, appreciation, all of it without a price tag. Or he’d thought there hadn’t been a price tag. The blood on Jason’s sheets suggested that there had been a cost.

He wouldn’t tell Tim either. He didn’t want to poison what the three of them had shared.

Jason would have figured out he was pregnant soon anyways when he missed his heat. And then he would have probably had to terminate the pregnancy anyway. He wasn’t ready to have a kid, no matter who it was with. He was a vigilante. An anti-hero. He had more enemies than he knew about. Enemies that would do terrible things to any child of his. That wasn’t even counting all of Tim and Dick’s. And Jason could never have given a baby of his up for adoption. He’d been in the foster system himself. He knew what a shit pile it was in Gotham. Not too much better outside either from what he’d heard. He wouldn’t condemn any kid of his to that.

He would have terminated the pregnancy anyway, so why now that it had just been taken away from him did he feel so much grief?

“Jason, breathe…” Kori reminded him. He refused to cry but he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. The princess laid next to him again and pulled him close to be tucked under her chin.

“You will get through this, Jason.” she said soothingly.

‘ That’s part of why it hurts. ’ Jason thought, and held his friend tighter.