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failedintsave · 3 years ago

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I tried the MTL pairing generator for rarepair month...aaaand it told me to stay in my lane lol. And then it told me to write some Rachel/Roy Cornickleson which I just don't think I'm ready to take on 🙃 So here's some Skwistok set just before Doomstar that I've been fiddling with.

(gets just a little nsfw near the beginning)

Stages

Everyone handles grief differently.

Skwisgaar groaned as muscular arms pushed him against the wall, the reinforced metal door to his room on the submarine banging shut as they cleared the threshold. Hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place while lips and tongue and teeth worked over his neck. He clung desperately to the body pressed against him, fingers twisting in blue cotton material and yanking it upward. The mouth latched onto his throat pulled away as the t-shirt was hauled over his head and Toki's fevered eyes found his before rushing forward again, mashing their lips together with sloppy abandon. He gripped Skwisgaar by the belt, half dragging him as they stumbled their way to his bunk and collapsed. Breathing came in gasps and sighs as Toki's weight pinned him down into the mattress, the pressure both exhilarating and mollifying, an anchor to hold onto as the life he'd known for so many years turned upside down and twisted away in the wind.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of innocence, loss of trust, loss of opportunities. It was all meaningless, really. In his experience, something new always came along to fill the space so why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

Boots thumped to the floor, kicked off in haste. His shirt was peeled away before sturdy hands lifted his hips to free him of his jeans, calloused fingertips gliding back up his thighs and making him shiver. Toki climbed up to kiss him again, hungrily, as if trying to swallow him whole, their teeth knocking against each other. Skwisgaar ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, the hard lines of Toki's shoulders, the raised ridges of overlapping scars on his back, hip bones where they ground down against his own. Heat pooled low in his belly like magma aching to erupt. He wanted this, needed this right now, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. How long had they danced around this, stealing moments and blaming it later on booze or post-show adrenaline, walking right up to the line and peeking over before backing away again? In the name of preserving band dynamics? A lot of good that had done, they'd still ended up where they are now, Dethklok tipping over the precipice into self-destruction.

Another loss to add to the list.

Toki pulled back, glacier blue eyes raking over Skwisgaar's features with manic light, chestnut locks of hair falling in disarray to frame his face. Skwisgaar reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear and Toki's expression shifted, the wild yearning softened into something gentler, less wolfish. He sat up to kneel between Skwisgaar's legs, hand skimming from his collar bone to his navel and leaving a trail of fire, over the inside of his thigh and dipping beneath, pausing until Skwisgaar breathed his assent, whispered his name.

Fingers tested gingerly, gradually increasing in depth and pressure before he gripped him by the waist and hauled him onto his lap. Skwisgaar canted his hips, lip catching between his teeth at the feel of Toki against him, his pulse hammering in his ears. His head angled back into the pillows and a wordless moan escaped his throat when Toki eased forward, back arching as lightning raced up his spine. Skwisgaar's fingers knotted in the bed sheets as Toki released a shuddering breath over him, rocking into him slowly, building rhythm into a steady push and pull.

Loss of professional boundaries. Definitely not something to be mourned.

The devastating sensation of fullness where they joined drove all coherent thought from Skwisgaar's mind and his eyes rolled back under closed lids, panting nonsense and expletives, begging for release. His toes curled as Toki matched stokes with his hand to the tempo of his thrusts, coaxing him through his climax until tipping over the edge after him with a whining sigh. Call and response, Skwisgaar thought dazedly as his superheated skeleton melted into jelly. When he could open his eyes again, his gaze landed on Toki's face above him, watching him with an openly heartsick expression.

"I… hads to do dat… at least once before dis ams all over." The broken whisper settled over him like a burial shroud.

Skwisgaar shook his head, holding out his arms. "Come heres."

Swallowing thickly, Toki obeyed, winding his arms under Skwisgaar's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Skwisgaar shifted to find a comfortable position, their sweat-slick chests sliding against each other as he angled slightly onto one side, hand cradling Toki's skull to keep him near.

"Seem pretties stupids we aments been doing dat dis whole time, honestlies."

Loss of time.

Toki held him tightly and Skwisgaar felt the tremor in his grip. He rubbed his cheek against the crown of the other man's head, humming tunelessly as he waited for him to speak, knowing already the fears plaguing his mind. He'd faced them often enough in his younger days, even if the scenario now was more complicated. It was hard to compare wondering where your next gig, your next meal ticket, might come from to wondering where to go after you'd already stood at the top.

Sniffling preceded the feeling of wetness against his shoulder, Toki mumbling against his skin. "What happens now? Ams we all just gonna says 'fucks you, see ya laters' now dat de band ams done? Even now dat dey tells us we gots to plays music to saves de world?"

Skwisgaar fiddled with a strand of brown hair for a moment before answering. "Well, I don'ts know abouts all dis saves-de-woirld business. But whats I do know ams band break ups. And, euughh, ja dat ams a pretty standords opseratings procedures."

"But does it has to be likes dat? We coulds all stays pals, right?"

"Dat ams...compslickateds." He dropped the lock and let his hand fall to Toki's shoulders. "Somet'ing like dis...people tends to ezpecks yous to euughh, picks sides. It ams messy. And it never warks out, t'ings always comes apart in de end."

Loss of the longest working relationships he'd had in his life.

Toki said nothing, so Skwisgaar continued if only to fill the silence. "But it coulds be worse, you knows? We gots more moneys den god, what's so bad what cants be fixed wif dat?" The statement produced a cold feeling trickling down behind his ribs, like swallowing a heaping spoonful of snow. "Nones of it acktualies matters. Just goes on to da next t'ings."

"I just... don'ts know what to does if dere aments a Dethklok."

"Whatevors you wants! You coulds buy de whole stores of airplane models, or you coulds builds you own splasharoonies water parks. Hell you coulds probablies starts a new bands wif dose guys from dat T'underhorse group."

"No," Toki murmured, face still compressed against Skwisgaar's neck. "I don't wants a new band. Dis was da one."

The possessive satisfaction he felt at those words tied his stomach in guilty knots.

"Ja it ams was a pretty good gigs…"

Toki shifted, laying his head on the pillow next to Skwisgaar's, his forlorn gaze searching his face for answers. Skwisgaar rolled so they were laying face to face, legs still twisted under the sheets.

Not everything was tied up in the feud that caused the band to split. What if it didn't have to be a total loss? Surely there were parts here that could be salvaged.

"Okej...so who says we haves to do anyt'ings at all?"

Toki's brows cinched. "What you means?"

Maybe, just this one thing, he could keep.

Skwisgaar's lips curved with the ghost of a smile. "I's already mades it to de top, ams de fastest guitarist alives...coulds be I shoulds just quits while I gots de title, ja? Retires, takes my ball and goes home wif it."

Toki snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Builds mineself a giant house up in de mountains or somet'ing. Or travels and just fucks off on de resgiduals forever, not worries about a deadlines or demos ever again. Plays guitar just for funs."

He saw his grin mirrored on Toki's face as the other man nodded dreamily.

"Maybe you...comes wif me?" Fluttery nerves tickled behind his sternum. "If you wants to."

Toki's eyes widened. "Wait. Whats?"

Just this. He could be happy with this.

"Y-you means it? You aments just messings with Toki?"

He shook his head. "How long dids we waste before nows? For not'ing. I'm sick ofs waitings. Let's just goes."

A heartbeat passed, and then Toki's mouth was on his again. Less frantic this time, hopeful rather than desperate. He cradled Toki's jaw, taking his time as he returned his affections, deepening the kiss and tracing languid strokes over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Their limbs wound together in a twisted bramble, bodies drawing tightly together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

A repetitive, discordant riff sounded from the pile of clothes abandoned on the floor and Toki's head jerked away. Flashing an apologetic grin, he rolled away to fish his phone from his pocket, sliding his pants up loosely around his hips.

"Sorries, be rights back!" He whispered, pressing the screen to answer. "Oh hei, Rockso!*

"Hows do you even has signals down here?" Skwisgaar called after him as he stepped into the hall, then flopped back onto the pillows to stare at the ceiling, counting the shiny rivets in the metal plating.

This was doable. Tomorrow they would bury more than just a mentor, they would lay to rest their careers as the biggest metal band in existence. The world at large would mourn their passing, but Skwisgaar wouldn't dwell on what's done and over. Not if he had new prospects to look forward to. Something always came along, and he never looked back.

"I tolds Magnus dat I woulds sit wif hims tomorrow." He heard Toki's muffled voice through the crack he'd left in the door.

A shadow passed over his thoughts at the name, like someone walking across his grave. It was uncomfortable to say the least, to have their former guitarist back in the fringes of their lives. Toki had a habit of finding friendship in questionable places, but where the clown was mostly an annoyance and sometimes a financial drain, his relationship with Magnus left Skwisgaar apprehensive. It didn't ease his mind when Toki insisted the older musician was different now. How could he know? He hadn't lived with the man, hadn't walked on eggshells during every rehearsal or songwriting session, hadn't watched as he plunged a knife into a bandmate.

But Magnus had also saved Toki with his insulin. He'd been there for Toki as a shoulder to lean on when the band had started to fall apart, too preoccupied with their own issues to spare a minute for their youngest member.

So maybe Toki was right. Things change; he'd never expected that a wedge could be driven between Nathan and Pickles far enough to end their friendship in such a catastrophic way, but here they were. And if Magnus still harbored any resentment for the band, their breakup was probably a balm to the old wound of rejection. What else could he wish on them? He was probably loving this.

The door scraped shut and Toki slipped back into the blankets gingerly, as if expecting Skwisgaar to be asleep. When he saw that he was still awake, Toki leaned in with a grin.

"Sorries...now, where was we…?" He murmured, capturing Skwisgaar's lips tenderly. "Oh ja, you was tellings me how we's gonna runs away togedders into de sunsets."

"Pfff. Dat am hardlies what I saids."

More kisses peppered his cheek and jaw. "Dats what I heards."

"Well I always knew yous was tone deafs, I didn'ts realize you ams just all de way hards of hearingks." His arm encircled Toki's back as the brunette nestled in again.

"Tells to me about wheres we gonna goes. Tells me about our house on tops of de mountains."

Skwisgaar snorted. Of the two of them, his was not the more vivid and fanciful imagination. But staring up at the blank canvas that the brushed metal panels of ceiling created, he envisioned a future for them to share. They squabbled playfully over locations and home design styles. They named off outlandish things they would fill their home with, like an even bigger ruby metronome or a trampoline room or an indoor pool shaped like a guitar and filled with champagne. They listed places they'd toured that they wanted to visit again, and locations they hadn't been yet but had always hoped to see.

"Can we gets a cat?" Toki asked suddenly, making Skwisgaar laugh airily.

"If we haves to?" He laughed again as Toki nodded against him. "But I'm not cleaningks up after it, dat ams all you, pal."

"Okei." Toki sighed deeply, settling in more comfortably. "Okei. I feels a lots less scareds now about all dis."

His hand glided up from where it had been resting at Skwisgaar's hip to lay warm over his heartbeat.

"I'll miss Dethklok. A whole lots. But now I t'inks I ams acktualies looking forwards to what comes next."

Still staring at the steel plates above, Skwisgaar grinned at the pictures they'd painted in his mind.

"Ja, me toos."

He covered Toki's hand with his own. However much they stood to lose after tomorrow, his heart felt lighter at what they were about to gain together. There was no reason to dwell on what was gone.

Everyone handles grief differently.

Laying on his bunk, Skwisgaar's eyes roamed the scuffed plate ceiling overhead, lingering on rusted rivets and water stains. The imperfections seemed to move and writhe like crawling insects under the influence of whatever handful of pills Pickles had given him. A half-drained bottle of vodka lay cradled against his chest, the mouth stoppered by his thumb. Fire burned in his belly from the alcohol, but cold fury pulsing through his veins tempered it.

He'd been prepared for Dethklok to end, had even accepted the idea that his career as a guitarist was over, diminished to a hobby. Playing guitar was his lifeblood, his purpose, and he'd been about to let that go. What had he been thinking? How had he gotten so wrapped up in fantasy that throwing away his entire self had seemed like a plausible course of action.

Loss of objectivity. Fortunately it seemed to be temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle, dribbling a little and not bothering to wipe it away. Stupid Toki, needing to be comforted like a child with make-believe bedtime stories. He couldn't just man up and move on like everyone else, like Skwisgaar had been doing since he was a teen, finding his next audition, his next couch to crash on, his next temporary alliance with subpar musicians to make ends meet. It couldn't have been an easier landing for him either, no concerns about hunger or homelessness or deportation hanging over his head. He was set up for success and still couldn't handle it.

Fucking idiot needed so much attention, so much coddling, he'd even run straight into harm's way to try and make a friend. Of all people, he'd had to choose Magnus, that vindictive bastard. Of course he'd still been carrying a grudge, when had he ever let anything go in the past? And they'd known it.

A pair of divots on the ceiling stared back at him, one dark, one catching the light. Glaring back at him mockingly, winking at his impotent rage.

They'd known. They'd known, they knew, they knew.

Skwisgaar knew. And he'd said nothing.

Then he'd watched again, frozen, as Magnus drove a knife into someone close to him.

Skwisgaar thrashed upright, a strangled roar bursting from his lungs as he flung the bottle at the wall. He kicked at the bedside table bolted to the wall, denting it from below, then spun around to tear the sheets from his bunk and hurl them across the room. This wasn't the trade he'd prepared for, this wasn't the deal he'd made with himself.

His eyes fell on his Explorer propped in the corner. He reached for it, wrapping both hands around the ebony fretboard, holding it like an axe and swinging it against the wall. He bashed it into the floor, the dresser, screaming until his throat was raw and the guitar was cracked into useless chunks of wood and fiberglass connected by twisted strings. He dropped the pieces in a heap, sinking to the ground to lean against the side of his bed, his shoulders heaving with labored panting.

The door of his room scraped open, and in his periphery he saw a figure standing, backlit by the dim red glow in the corridor. Broad-shouldered, straight hair dangling about their head. His heart seized for a moment before the figure spoke, shattering his hallucination.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan's gravelly voice was cautious.

Skwisgaar didn't turn, eyes still focused on the debris ahead of him. The stainless steel guitar strings seemed to wriggle like worms in grave soil, consuming the corpse of his instrument. He waited until he caught his breath before trying to respond.

"What does it looks like I'm doingks?"

Nathan shifted in the doorway. "Losing your mind."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

Loss of sanity? Maybe.

"You've been locked up in there a while. Maybe you should, you know. Come out here. With the rest of the band."

"Fucks off."

Nathan didn't move. Skwisgaar felt the urge to rage at the other man rise in him, to shout in his face, demand to know why it had taken him so long to patch things over with Pickles, why he let it go so far that he'd upset all of their lives so horrifically. But the feeling passed, his body drained from his previous outburst and from trying to filter a pharmacy's worth of substances through his liver.

"We're gonna find him, you know. Charles has people everywhere looking already."

One shoulder rose and fell in a halfhearted shrug. "Whatevers. Who cares."

They could have been a four-piece. If he really wanted to rage at someone it would be his past self. How different would things be right now if he'd never given that gutter rat a chance after missing his audition time? How much of what they achieved would they have really missed out on? How many rerecording sessions and stupid arguments and publicized blow outs could have been avoided? What would they really have been missing?

He certainly wouldn't mourn the loss of a constant source of annoyance. Of an immature tag-along with a hair trigger temper. Of a loud and boisterous whirlwind of silliness and color and sincerity.

Loss of his shadow. Loss of his muse. Loss of his best friend. Loss of his future. Loss of…

Loss of…

He couldn't breathe.

"Just leaves me alone. Please." He gritted out, proud of the steadiness of his voice as his stomach began to roil and his eyes prickled with tears.

Nathan hesitated. "Should I...close this?"

Skwisgaar nodded and after another moment the steel frame clanged shut. His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled over, his breath returning in short gasping puffs which rolled over into sobs that rattled his frame.

They'd had one day. Not even a day. An evening. Hours.

He wept until he was sick, vomiting clear liquor and not much else onto the floor next to the remnants of his guitar. He wept until his tears were spent and his head throbbed in tandem with his heart, even though he didn't understand how the muscle still carried a beat when the rhythm had been taken away.

Eventually he had nothing left. His face felt swollen, his eyes were gritty. Skwisgaar rolled to his hands and knees, avoiding the puddle of sick as he rocked up onto wobbly legs. He looked at the door, wondering if the others were still awake. If they were sitting in the lounge, drowning their sorrows. He felt like he wore a lead weight around his neck, bowing under the pull of it. It might be better just to sleep.

He turned to the naked mattress, but a scrap of blue on the floor near the foot of the bed caught his attention. A faded cotton t-shirt lay where it had been discarded. Skwisgaar stared at it for several long moments. He stepped closer to the bed, to the shirt.

And kicked it underneath the frame and out of sight before turning for the door.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of purpose. Loss of self. Loss of connection. Loss of…

It was all meaningless, really. So why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

#skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #skwistok #dethklok #metalocalypse

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kingofthewilderwest · 6 years ago

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A thought just occurred to me about the different types of alchemy that all the characters in FMA do. Because the Elrics can pretty much do all sorts of things with their alchemy and they don't have any big restrictions, whereas Roy pretty much only does flame alchemy and is even deemed useless in rain because he can't use it. So does that mean that he can't use any other type of alchemy? If he can why doesn't he, in the rain in example? Why does he have this limitation when the brothers don't?

Ooooo this is a fun topic bless bless.

I don’t remember where I first read it, but I think it describes the Elrics well. I remember someone saying both Ed and Al embody the jack of all trades. They don’t seem to be profound experts in any one alchemical field, but they know key information here and there about multiple fields. So, following from that, I think where Ed’s greatest strength is his ingenious application of alchemy; it’s his creativity that gets him out of binds (sometimes), and it’s his out-of-the-box thinking that makes him realize he can trade his alchemy abilities to bring back his brother’s body.

What makes the brothers shine more than anything, though, is clap transmutation. As you say, the Elrics can do all sorts of things with their alchemy, and it does make them appear less “limited” in some senses. They’re at least more diverse and creative in what they do with alchemy. They’ve got the advantage because they’re not restricted by having to draw transmutation circles. I’m not sure if they need to have the circles memorized in their heads, or what sorts of scientific information their minds need to process prior to clap transmutation, but that form of transmutation has obvious advantages: they don’t have to draw or carry around “prepared” circles. They can just do whatever they need to, with whatever they need to, on the fly.

All other State Alchemists are “limited” to their specialty and what transmutation circles they carry/wear on them as part of that specialty. Part of this limitation is the natural thing that happens when you become a specialist. The more specialized you get, the more information you know about an increasingly smaller scope. Of course, these guys all would have had to start with alchemy’s basics (we see this referenced when young Mustang visits Berthold) before moving to advanced topics.

Background basic knowledge solidified, they then would have been able to go into more complicated forms of the science, specialize, and attune their focuses. Shou Tucker is going to keep all his concentration on chimera research. He’ll know a lot about those things, but probably only the basics of other forms he doesn’t really use. And especially for actively fighting State Alchemists in the military, they’re going to focus on their special alchemical attacks. Soon enough, all of what they easily recall and can do, will be their area of specialty.

Each State Alchemist seems to hone one particular alchemy attack and that’s about it. They have their circle pre-formed by wearing gloves, gauntlets, or tattooing it on their body. Solf Kimblee, Alex Armstrong, Basque Grand, Roy Mustang… I see all of them on the same “par” for how they handle their alchemy. They perfect the attacks they can do with that one transmutation circle they wear on them. Maybe they could’ve been more resourceful and carried other pre-drawn circles for secondary attacks, but welp. 1). The State Alchemy program is new. 2). Well-educated adults often specialize into narrow interests. 3). Most day-to-day alchemists don’t need to have their transmutation circles prepared ahead of time. 4). Because of their unique abilities, State Alchemists are probably pretty confident on winning their fights with their one prepared attack form. 5). And maybe there’s something to be said about holding to their own “brand recognition” and sticking to the alchemy they’re famous for. ;)

It’s not that they don’t know other transmutation circles and alchemical information, but it’s the practicality of being an active fighter that we see people like Mustang be so “limited”. Roy won’t have time to grab chalk and start scribbling circles on the ground when an enemy rushes him. He’s going to rely on Flame Alchemy because that’s the alchemy he has available with that transmutation circle on his gloves. Unfortunately, that comes at the cost that, when he’s wet, he can’t light sparks with his gloves and use his one prepared transmutation circle. Ergo, he becomes useless in the rain for any average fight.

There are many indications Roy knows more forms of alchemy. We could talk about the 2003 show, where we see his notes of complicated formulas for human transmutation research, but I’m going to stick with Arakawa’s intended chronology only. There are multiple instances I recall in FMAB / the manga where Roy uses alchemy that isn’t Flame Alchemy.

First, he makes a “body” to fake Maria’s death. He knows the needed “ingredients” off the top of his head; while they’re not complicated, he’s not looking anything up for what he knows he’ll need. He quickly jots his list down inside a phone booth and hands the note straight to Breda. Roy knows he’ll be able to form those into a fake corpse. It shows some non-Flame Alchemy knowledge here. It’s possible he then did some reading before making the “corpse” with alchemy, of course, but books or no, he regardless does non-Flame Alchemy. He even matches Ross’ tooth record for his crafted dummy.

And he knows ahead of time what the teeth will need to be made of.

Second, Mustang transmutes the sign on a truck into a different logo. We’ll get more to this instance of alchemy later. I like this instance.

Third, Mustang uses an oh-so-common combat alchemist tactic: reforming the ground before him into a shield. Clap transmutation moment for the win! Now that he’s not required to draw circles, he’s taking advantage of non-Flame Alchemy in combat.

Fourth, there’s the omake where Roy’s using Flame Alchemy techniques with the same transmutation circle, but in non-Flame Alchemy ways. We know for Flame Alchemy, Mustang manipulates oxygen concentration levels to direct his flames. Changing oxygen concentration levels can also… get people to pass out. Oh dear. Buddy. Buddy, we need to talk.

Last, Roy thinks he can use Lust’s Philosopher’s Stone to heal Havoc. Mustang says, “Medical field alchemy is outside of my expertise, but by using this to increase my abilities…” I don’t know how the Philosopher’s Stone exactly works since, again, you don’t need to draw a transmutation circle with it. How much are you still doing yourself with your own abilities and practice, and how much will the Philosopher’s Stone “fill in the gaps”? But the way that Roy is talking, he seems to at least think that the Philosopher’s Stone isn’t going to do the alchemy for him - it’s used to increase his abilities rather than give him new ones. I say that indicates that, while medical alchemy ain’t his specialty, he thinks he can do something with it. There’s still some questions I have about how working with a Philosopher’s Stone goes down, but regardless. Roy knows how to do some basic biological alchemy!

Honestly I’ve always found the ice cream truck moment most interesting when it comes to Roy’s non-Flame Alchemy. You see lots of alchemists do something like rearrange the earth to block attacks. Given he’s a soldier, knowing bits of medical alchemy is obviously practical. But changing the outside appearance of a truck is somewhat random - not necessarily complicated to do, but random and menial alchemy nevertheless.

We know Roy wouldn’t be carrying books on him to look up the transmutation circle for changing the truck logo. He would’ve used his memories to draw that transmutation circle. In FMAB he casually comments, “Changing the outer appearance of the vehicle is no trouble at all.” For whatever reason, Roy recalls what to do off the top of his head. It’s no trouble. And if he remembers some small random trick like this off the top of his head, what else does Roy actively recall about other forms of non-Flame Alchemy? I think this moment indicates Roy actually does carry around with him some decent memories of non-Flame Alchemy transmutation circles. Exactly because it’s some small random trick, it makes it all the more an indication Roy’s got a decent memory and practice for other forms of alchemy. Especially, I imagine he likes to remember some alchemy for deceptive stunts, since he has his fair share of tricks everywhere.

Honestly, even the fact that he decoded Berthold Hawkeye’s tattoo and learned Flame Alchemy shows that he’s got to have great understanding of alchemy as a whole. Prior to this, Roy knew nothing about how to do Flame Alchemy. At the same time, Berthold said that his alchemical notes (on Riza’s back) were “indecipherable to the average alchemist.” Either that means they were attuned specifically to Roy (which I find somewhat doubtful), or they were difficult to crack and understand - in which case Roy being able to learn this information is a feat to his prowess in alchemy as a whole. He’s no average alchemist; he’s a gifted and brilliant one able to learn a novel, new field.

He’s got his expertise, Flame Alchemy, and he’s damn amazing at it. He’s specialized, as we’d expect an advanced State Alchemist to do. Roy also shows that he has dabbled and remembers the information to some other forms of alchemy.

So I think that, in summation, to answer your question:

Roy (and other State Alchemists like Alex) narrow their alchemy to a specialty and almost exclusively practice that one form in combat. They’d enter more diverse research and application (though still circled around their expertise) in calmer scenarios. However, Mustang’s going to primarily use Flame Alchemy because that’s what he knows best, that’s where he can consistently do the most damage, and that’s what transmutation circle he has on his gloves to work with. In combat you only have the chance to use what you’ve prepared ahead of time in alchemy - unless, MAYBE, you’re a very fast drawer, have some time, or can clap transmute.

Roy’s useless in the rain and doesn’t use other forms of alchemy mostly from time constraints. He wouldn’t have time to scribble out new transmutation circles on rainy days in the middle of a fight. So… once his gloves get soaked, he can’t use Flame Alchemy. He’s done. He better shoot his gun or stay back. He’s also not going to be an expert in other alchemical forms. But time would be his biggest constraint making him “useless”.

Roy and the other alchemist’s “limitations” (compared to the Elrics) come from the fact they can’t clap transmute and they rely HEAVILY on their specialty with their pre-drawn circles. The Elrics, meanwhile, can clap transmute and are jacks of all trades.

That’s how I see it, anyway! Would be interested if you have any other thoughts, though, that I missed!

#long post #non-dragons #FMA #FMAB #Fullmetal Alchemist #Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood #I am so happy I got to talk about thissssss #and chat with you since we both love FMA a lot #Roy Mustang #analysis #my analysis #ask #ask me #the-lady-of-the-blue

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bburningbridges · 7 years ago

Text

in this life, the days are full of joy

Summary: Kaldur is a kid--despite his best efforts to deny himself that right--and therefore, should live as kids do: happily. (In which Kaldur makes some friends, learns some lessons, and falls in love, smiling.)

notes: my embarrassingly late YJ Mini Big Bang fic! it takes place in season 1 and the art was drawn by the wonderful @shadesninde! i love the results and im so glad this came together so well!!!

It starts with Batman. Or rather, the girl by Batman’s side, with eyes half-closed from what could be weariness or simply exhaustion and fishnets. It takes Kaldur all of ten seconds to recognize her as Zatara’s daughter, and his stomach does that horrible motion that feels like ocean waves crashing against rocks. He never lets it show in face, choosing instead to meet her and give the smallest, most reassuring smile he can manage without drawing Batman’s attention.

Zatanna, on her part, responds with the barest quirk of her lips--Kaldur takes it as a step in the right direction.

“Aqualad,” Batman says, “a word.”

Other people might end a sentence like that with a question mark. Batman is not other people. Thankfully, he’s coming to a stopping point in his book anyway, and puts up no fight as he stows Steig Larsson away for later. The flooring in the cave feels cold even to him as he goes to meet Batman and Zatanna, and about two paces away from them he’s vaguely aware that Robin’s probably in a vent somewhere, watching.

“Hello, Batman, Zatanna,” Kaldur says, and then to Zatanna adds, “My condolences about your father. How have you been faring?”

“Thank you, Kaldur,” she says soft, but sincere. She turns her gaze to the side and nods shakily, “I’ve been…..faring, I guess.”

He nods, accepting it as a valid answer; he can see the oceanic storms in her eyes and for that reason, it is answer enough. “The team and I are available for you in any way. If there is anything we can do to help you, please, let me know.”

Zatanna looks at him again, this time her eyes are shiny and he does his best to not react to that. “Thanks,” she says again, but she sounds less shaky this time.

“This is actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Batman says. “The League--and Zatanna, of course--have decided to place her on the team, permanently for now. She fits well into your dynamic and has already proved to us that she’s a powerful asset.”

Batman has a curious way of cheering up others--perhaps he knows that his oddly professional compliments delivered in his deep monotone are as grounding as they are factual; there’s something about his delivery that can straighten shoulders, lift chins, brighten smiles. Kaldur’s seen it in just about every team member and Zatanna is no exception; she sniffs once and then tries to hide a fairly satisfied smile behind it.

“And the company’s not so bad,” she adds, in a tone more like herself.

“I am happy to hear it,” he says, and he means it, wholeheartedly, and hopes Zatanna grasps that. He extends a hand out to her, and when she reaches out to meet it, grabs her in a firm Atlantean shake. “Welcome to the team, Zatanna. We are happy to have you.”

“Honestly speaking….I’m pretty happy to have you guys too, Kaldur.”

He smiles automatically, one that she returns in full, and as they release each other Batman says, “Call in the rest of the team.”

“Ah,” Kaldur hums, casting his eyes up to the vent just a bit to the left of them, “I am sure by now they now. Is that not correct, Robin?”

It turns out he was wrong--Robin drops out of the vent to the right of them, clucking his tongue. “Getting soft in your old age, Kal? I practically told you where I was.”

Zatanna, surprisingly, doesn’t have the face most acquire after they witness Robin drop from the unknown for the first time. She looks more amused than scared, which is a convincing sign that she’s in the right place. “Welcome to team, Zee,” Robin grins, somehow unfazed by the hard glare Batman’s aiming at him. “Don’t worry about making a formal call, Kal.”

“I know,” he says, one eyebrow quirked. “Where you go, Kid Flash is not far behind.”

As if on cue, Kid Flash appears in the room in--well, a flash--one arm propped on Robin’s shorter shoulder. And the rest of the team trickles in after that, trying to look surprised even though Kaldur knows full well they’re a bunch of snoops who’ve likely been listening to the conversation since the beginning. He sighs, equal parts exasperated and affectionate for the lot of them, when Batman is suddenly hovering next to him and speaking in a tone low enough that no one else can pick up.

“Look out for her, Aqualad. You aren’t just leading a team of heroes--but a circle of friends. Zatanna needs support both on and off a battlefield.”

“I understand,” Kaldur nods, and Batman makes a vaguely approving sound in the back of his throat. He takes his leave not too long after, Zatanna standing amidst a circle of new friends, and when her gaze floats to catch his eye, he meets her smile with one equally sincere.

It turns out that Zatanna fits into the team like a glove--especially, to Kaldur’s exasperation, with Robin’s schemey tendencies and Artemis’ blunt honesty. Which is to say she spends a great deal of time drifting about Kaldur and being nosy.

“So….what do you do for fun around here?”

Kaldur sips his tea, eyeing her over the rim. He knows this tactic. He’s too savvy to the rest of them; she’s building up to something.

“Stop crime throughout the globe in the event that the League--”

“Kal.”

He smirks, to remind her that she’s not the only one with a sense of humor. “Read, mostly,” he admits. “I was rushed to learn English as quickly as possible and I prefer to practice often to keep myself sharp.”

Zatanna looks humbly surprised. “What kind of books?”

“Stieg Larsson, as of late.”

“Good choice,” she says. “Have you seen the movie yet?”

He pauses in his next sip. “Movie?”

“Yeah! It’s so--actually, I won’t spoil it for you. But now we have Friday night plans.”

“Do we now?”

“Yes, you nerd, I will chain your ass to that couch if I have to but you’re watching that movie with me. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Laughing, Kaldur simply shakes his head. “If you insist.”

“Insist I do,” Zatanna sniffs. “Oh, here’s a question for you--is there math under the sea? Like do you learn to do calculus with fish or…?”

“Ha,” he says dryly. She simply grins at him; it matches Robin’s. He can hardly believe how alike they act already and it’s barely been two weeks. “Yes, we learn math in our school systems.”

“Great!” And, ah, there it is--Zatanna whips out a notebook and a paperback workbook. “Please help me, I think algebra might actually kill me.”

Either her tone of voice, or maybe the sheer despair in her expression, squeezes a laugh out of him, and he tries to compose himself in a reasonable amount of time without accidentally offending her. It sort of works, but she mostly seems pleased that she’s gotten him to break.

“Of course,” he says, still staving off extra waves of giggles. “Though I make no promises that I know any of this any better than you do. I haven’t looked at this type of work in a long time.”

Zatanna already has a pencil in his hand, somehow, so he guesses she’s largely unfazed by that fact. “Let me guess--you’re in like, advanced advanced honors math?”

“Wha--oh, you misunderstand,” he explains, after a moment’s confusion, “I do not attend school on the surface at all.”

“What?”

(She doesn’t seem outraged, more like betrayed. Also, like she may be plotting to do whatever it is that he’s done to ensure herself the same treatment.)

Kaldur wiggles his free hand, showing his obviously webbed fingers and tattoo. “I’m far too noticeable. There is not enough makeup in the world to hide my true self from civilians.”

“You lucky duck.”

“It’s not as great as you’re thinking,” he says honestly. “The cave has been lonesome as of late, now that M’gann and Connor are attending school. Black Canary enjoys...how do you put it...”

“Kicking the crap out of you?”

“Precisely.”

She snorts, propping her chin in her hand as she leans on the tabletop. “Yeah, but I’d rather put my feet up all day than go through this,” and she gestures grandly at the homework laid out. “This is like torture by quadratic formula.”

“It keeps you busy,” he points out.

“Yeah, I guess, mom, but it’s still boring.”

“Zatanna--”

“What about Red Arrow?” she interrupts. “He’s sort of on the team, isn’t he? Robin and Wally barely shut up about him. I guess I figured he’d be around more, since you guys are so close.”

Kaldur hates how quickly he clams up at the mere mention of Roy; in a handful of seconds he’s gone from perfectly fine to not, just because she brought him up. Hopefully, it does not show on his face. He clears his throat to give him an extra moment to kickstart his brain, and then says, “Roy visits occasionally.”

“But?”

“But….it is just that: occasional. He does not like it here.”

Don’t tell her how often you go to his place, he thinks

“Typically, I make the trip to visit him.”

….Damn it.

“See! That’s fun! I’m stuck in a desk all day and you get to galavant around the city with Roy.” She makes a truly bizarre face at him as she says Roy’s name, and Kaldur’s mortification is hidden by the startled laugh it draws from him.

“I am getting the feeling that you will not believe me no matter what I say.”

“Correcto, Kal. Deny all you want, but lounging around the cave all day must be nice. We’ll be doing a lot of that together, won’t we, roomie?” She cracks her knuckles and points a problem on the open page. “Now, be a dear and explain to me what the hell conics are?”

Things get both better, and worse, in a truly bizarre fashion that Kaldur has come to associate with the life of a hero. On one hand, Zatanna fits to the team like a glove, easily getting along with the other members and Kaldur himself, but members of the League make frequent checkups on her. He isn’t sure where she stands, legally, as Dr. Fate seems less inclined to release his host than ever, but from what Kaldur has picked up--certainly not by eavesdropping, of course--there may be a chance at getting Batman involved. Kaldur’s just….not going to touch that proverbial can of worms until someone can give him a rundown of what is actually going on. And on the other hand, for every cheeky line Zatanna dishes out, she has dozens of moments of pained silence, and he isn’t sure how to help her anymore than he already has been. It feels like he could do more...he just isn’t sure what ‘more’ would be.

Plus, Kaldur’s relationship with the surface world is fluctuated more than ever. He has more bad days than good days, and he’s not sure where the sudden change came from, or if his attempts to reassure King Orin are working.

The good news out of all of this is that he spends more of his evenings with his feet up on Roy’s dingy coffee table, listening to Roy complain and/or theorize, and generally just...hanging out.

It’s nice. They don’t get to do this as often anymore.

They’re both in civvies, by Roy’s request, because even he grows sick of the constant rush of always being in uniform. Kaldur finds that he doesn’t actually like arguing with Roy, particularly on trivial matters, thus the borrowed sweatpants and UCLA shirt.

“Listen,” says Roy, which is automatically impossible for Kaldur to do because Roy has been gallivanting about the apartment without a shirt on for the last ten minutes, and it’s far more distracting that Kaldur would like to admit. “I’m just saying--”

“Batman was very clear about discussing a possible mole,” Kaldur interrupts. “Not that I do not trust your judgement, but you are leaning too heavily on speculation.”

“You think I dreamed up Artemis’ past?”

“No, but I hardly believe family ties are enough to negate the fact that Artemis has nearly died for the team multiple times.”

“The same goes for whoever the mole might be!”

Kaldur puts a hand on his face, “Okay, allow me to rephrase: discussing this endlessly gets us nowhere, and you are giving me a headache. I came to see you because I enjoy your company, not because I enjoy talking in circles for hours on end.”

Roy only shuts up long enough to laugh, which Kaldur isn’t as mad about as he could’ve been. “Okay, fine,” he half-chuckles. “You could’ve started with that, you know?”

Kaldur simply shrugs. “I did not want to be misunderstood. My team is in danger, and I am grateful that you have made it a concern of yours to keep us safe, but I need a break, occasionally.”

“Which is why you came to me, I get it. Sorry, Kal. I’m even the one who begged you to put on sweatpants, but this isn’t as relaxing as it could’ve been.” Roy looks down at the floor and sighs, then jerks a thumb to the kitchen. “I’m gonna get a soda, then we can sit down and talk and paint our nails or whatever. Want anything?”

It’s more or less a question Roy already knows the answer to--Kaldur doesn’t have a sweet tooth, but he does have a taste for dark sodas, which Wally is half-responsible for. It was the first drink he’d ever had on the surface world aside from water, and it was essentially love at first sip. “A Dr. Pepper,” he says, and Roy darts into the kitchen to grab it.

He comes out with two cans, tosses one at Kaldur, and drops onto the other side of the couch. After a few huge sips, he sets it down and says, “So, I talked to Ollie yesterday.”

Kaldur pauses as he pops open his can. “Really?”

“Well, Ollie talked to me. He says he wants to make sure I’m not dead, but he also had takeout and Fifa in his hand, which, last I checked, isn’t necessary to make sure someone’s still kicking. But anyways, he told me that Aquaman’s been a little….what’s the word…”

Suddenly, the soda is very interesting, and Kaldur can’t look at Roy anymore.

“Ah,” Roy says dryly, “I got it, it’s bitchy.”

Putting a little too much force into it, Kaldur pops the tab and the drink fizzles down his hand. “King Orin has not been--”

He stops short, because Roy’s appraising him with a specific look. And then Kaldur realizes he’s been played.

Shaking the soda off his hand, he fights a small smile. “...perhaps the king has been in less than high spirits.”

“And why’s that, Kal?” Roy’s eyebrows quirk upwards. “You don’t think it’s because his uptight protege looks like someone took the fish out of his fishsticks all the time, right?”

Kaldur can’t stop himself; he frowns, “I do not look like that. I do not even know what that would look like.”

“It means you look like you did last time Orin got this worried about you. Did something happen with Garth and Tula again?” Roy’s tone has changed entirely, turning more quiet and gruff. “Wanna talk about it?”

Kaldur tries not to wince. The last time he’d spoken about Garth and Tula, he’d been in a less than stellar mood, and he hadn’t skimped on tossing the word ‘heartbroken’ around. And he had been, truly, broken up over getting rejected. He’d felt like an alien in his own home. But things have changed since then; for one, he has a better relationship with his oldest friends now than before, when he’d been so reliant on Tula to uphold an image of himself that didn’t quite...exist.

It is beyond bad timing to be thinking about...this in such close proximity to Roy, for a myriad of reasons, and besides, it isn’t entirely relevant to this particular conversation.

“Nothing has happened with Garth and Tula,” Kaldur starts. He hesitates, then admits, “I’m worried about Zatanna.”

“Zatara’s kid?” Roy blinks. “Why’s that?”

“I cannot gage how well she is adjusting,” he says. “The League checks on her, but Dr. Fate is more militant in his grip on Zatara than he ever was with Kent Nelson. I fear she is not taking it well.”

“She seems fine to me, and the League, according to Ollie.”

Kaldur takes a small sip of his soda. “That is what worries me. I am well aware of what hiding yourself looks like, and I fear that may be what she doing.”

“Ah,” Roy says quietly. “Is that all?”

Kaldur’s surprised enough to cast a glance at him, which Roy simply shrugs at. “Like you said, you’re good at hiding things. Sometimes I’ve gotta a dig a little.”

Kaldur scoffs in reply. “I believe that is something I am familiar doing towards you as well.”

Roy smacks him with a throw pillow, nearly knocking the soda out his hand, but he’s laughing. “I get it, Kal, we both suck at being open. Now quit being a smartass and tell me what’s on your mind.”

As the last of his chuckles fade, Kaldur sets his can down on the table, definitely does not look at Roy, and says, “My days at the Cave have been...lonelier, as of late.”

“So you do miss Atlantis?”

“No, I mean, well, yes, always. But not like before. And that is not the cause of my loneliness.” Kaldur sighs. “I spend most of my days in the Cave alone, while the others are at school. Frankly, it is boring. I do not know what we expected when we started this team, but I’ve made incredible friends, and I do not get to fill my days with schoolwork or family dinners the way they do. And it is...lonesome.”

“...jeez, Kal,” Roy says. After a moment he leans forward on his knees, biceps tightening as he puts his chin on his fist. “You could, maybe, tell Aquaman that? Before he brings down the fucking government to figure out what upset you?”

“He wouldn’t,” Kaldur says tiredly.

“He could. Wouldn’t put it past him. He’s responsible for you and all that, he takes it very seriously.”

Kaldur gives him a look that’s just downright confused. “What do you mean?”

Waving his hand, Roy says, “Ollie says he’s pretty damn proud of you. Like, if he had a wallet, it would be filled with pictures of you kind of proud.”

There’s no intelligent comment that comes to Kaldur’s brain, so he just blinks at Roy like he’s grown as a second head.

“It’s a joke. I mean, not really, because I’m about ninety percent sure he actually has it, but it’s just making fun of something really involved dads do.”

“King Orin isn’t my father,” he says after several moments of silence.

“No kidding.”

“Then why would he--”

His phone chimes loudly, and Kaldur cuts himself short to check the caller ID.

“Zatanna?”

“Kal, where are you?”

Kaldur looks at Roy, at his sweatpants, and the couch. “...nowhere important,” and Roy makes a small sound that could be either amusement or offense, Kaldur can’t tell but turns so his back is to him anyway. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No. Nothing at all, Kal, except you totally bailed on me.”

“What?”

“It’s movie night, remember? Stieg Larsson!”

Kaldur sits there, truly confused as he racks his brain for any recollection of what she might be talking about. “Wait,” he says, remembering the first night she’d approached him with her homework. It feels like so long ago, but it’s been at the most, two weeks. “You were serious?”

“As a heartattack. We’ve been busy every weekend since, but we all bit the bullet and got our homework done early enough we would be able to have some free time. And it’s not a team event unless you’re with us.”

Kaldur swallows hard. Though his voice doesn’t betray it, he’s moved by her words and the solemn sincerity in her voice. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll be there soon.”

And then he hears a chorus of cheers, and he realizes he was so confused he hadn’t noticed that Zatanna had him on speakerphone the whole time.

“You better be!” Zatanna’s voice picks up over the noise, but she sounds relieved.

“Yeah, Kal, the one night we actually get a breather and you’re off doing who-knows-what--”

“Okay, okay,” Kaldur says, starting to chuckle.

“Get your but back to the base ASAP!” Robin’s voice chimes in, “Oh, and tell Roy he can come to!”

“You’re with Roy?”

“I am hanging up now,” Kaldur informs them all, and does just that.

When he turns back around, Roy is red in the face from trying not to laugh. Kaldur rolls his eyes at him, but he quietly notes that Roy does seem to be more relaxed, even after speaking with Ollie, and that is a good sign, at least. He raises one eyebrow delicately. “Something funny?”

“No, not at all,” Roy shakes his head. “Just don’t look so surprised whenever people actually give a shit about you, okay? I’m not sure if it makes me wanna hug you or deck everyone else.”

Kaldur blinks at him a few times. Roy laughs again, then shoos him off the couch. “Get outta here, hang out with your team.”

“You won’t be coming with me?”

“Hell no,” he says flatly. “I’m not gonna volunteer to hang out at daycare.”

“Roy--”

“Yell at me next time,” he snorts. “Now go. Night, Kal.”

Kaldur feels an odd smile turn at the corner of his mouth, and tries to keep it contained as he gathers his things. “Goodnight, Roy.”

Sometimes it’s so hard to feel warmth in his chest when Roy smiles; it’s like suffocating, knowing he is drowning in a terrible secret.

And other times….it’s not hard at all.

Upon returning to the Cave, Kaldur receives no less than three wolf-whistles, three open stares, and feels his heart climb into his throat when Zatanna comments, “Didn’t know you liked UCLA, Kal.”

He holds up his hands, not really sure what he wants to do with them, and winds up making a ‘go away’ gesture at all of them, to their delight.

Despite that, movie night is wonderful.

Kaldur can’t get Roy’s words out of his head, about Aquaman, and he decides to do the responsible thing and speak to his king face to face. However, knowing it is the right thing to do doesn’t make it any less awkward.

“So you are not having trouble making connections on the surface?” Orin asks, voice carefully pitched but face full of concern.

Kaldur shakes his head. “No, it is, if anything, the opposite, my King. I know there was reason for concern before, but the team has come out of our ordeals stronger than ever. I fear it is the bond we’ve made that leaves me feeling so...alone, when they are not around.”

Orin strokes his beard, nodding. Kaldur tries to ignore the fact that this feels like trying to explain to Batman that he’d been maybe-in-love-or-something-else with Tula so many months ago.

….oh, Roy was right, he is terrible at being open.

“I will discuss something with Batman. Thank you for being honest with me, Kaldur’ahm,” Orin says, places a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “I simply wish you would tell me of these things sooner.”

“I apologize, my king--”

“Do not,” Orin cuts him off sternly. “That is something we both need to work on. I will do my best to be more aware of your needs on the surface world, in exchange for you being much more honest with me than you have been in the past.”

Kaldur looks at him, unsure of what to say, of how to ask if Orin is alluding to what he thinks he’s alluding to. “My king…?”

“I am aware of your past altercation with Garth.”

Oh, Kaldur had been wrong about the comparison to Batman. This is much worse.

“We resolved it,” he mumbles, and he can’t think of the last time he’d been so embarrassed he couldn’t look his king in the eye. “That is no longer an issue.”

“In regards to Tula, I am sure it is not. But I am well aware of what habits you fall to when you experience feelings you are unfamiliar with, Kaldur’ahm.”

Not that Kaldur has ever died before, but he’s sure this very moment is worse. He hadn’t been lying when he said the king wasn’t his father--Cal Durham was, he knew that--but it still feels like being scolded and getting interrogated about the nuances of a crush by a parent nonetheless.

“Forgive me, I am not sure how to say this delicately,” Kaldur says hesitantly.

“Perhaps start by simply saying it.”

Not that he ever envisioned having this conversation, but Kaldur definitely didn’t think he’d ever...come out to Orin like this. Or at any time. In his defense, it has been a tumultuous time, lately.

“I….feel similarly towards a team member as I did toward Tula,” he starts, slowly, and not all confidently.

And then he remembers what Roy had said, about Orin and pride and toting said pride with wherever he went.

“This team member is male, my king, and I hope that you do not perceive me differently for this or--”

“Kaldur’ahm, be calm, my son,” says Orin, and that alone is enough to make Kaldur’s shoulders sag with relief.

Orin grips him by both shoulders, staring him head on. “There is no thing I can think of that could make me perceive you as anything but a prize of Atlantis, and the best choice for my protege. Have no fear, Kaldur’ahm, I care for you all the same. I have failed you in many ways, but I will not fail you in this regard.”

He hugs Kaldur after that, and Kaldur breathes, at last.

A week after that conversation, Batman calls Kaldur for private conversation. Except their private conversation also includes Aquaman and Zatanna.

He isn’t sure how to process the information at first. Aquaman’s presence helps, but he remains wary even after the king places a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“Kaldur’ahm, be calm,” he assures, and that does help.

“Is something wrong, my king?” He casts a glance at Zatanna, who beams at him, which is just more confusing.

“I spoke to Batman about my concerns for your wellbeing. However, Zatanna was the one who reached out to us about a possible solution.”

She shrugs sheepishly. “Ever since you mentioned being alone in the Cave all the time I started working out charms that could disguise you. And I think I finally got one.”

She holds up a necklace with a golden ball as a pendant. At his blank stare, she hides a laugh, “You wear it and it makes you look more like a surface-dweller. No gills, no tattoos, no webbing.”

“In other words, as long as it works, you could go about the surface world outside of missions,” Batman explains. “Like the rest of the team. Even attend school.”

Oh. Oh.

Though his jaw doesn’t quite hit the floor, Kaldur feels himself go slackjawed and simply stares at Zatanna like she’s grown a second head. “You...developed this for me?”

“Of course, Kal.” She looks half sad by his surprise, and motions for him to lean down enough so she can put it around his neck. “You’re my friend. I noticed how you’ve been slipping lately, and then movie night was the final kick in the pants I needed to get this done. Sorry it took so long.”

He can’t think of anything else to say besides, “Thank you, Zatanna. You did not have to do this.”

Zatanna sniffles, then pushes him back into an upright position. “I know, that’s sort of why I did it,” she says, then catches him in a quick hug. She steps back to hold him at arm’s length, appraising her work. “Not that you weren’t hot before, because you really were, but, uh….this is a good look on you.”

Kaldur snorts, thankful for once that it's Zatanna who's the most awkward person in the room, rather than him. He turns to Aquaman and Batman, expression hopeful. “Is this acceptable?”

Aquaman’s smiling, really smiling, and claps a hand on Kaldur’s shoulder, laughing. “It is wonderful! Truly, this is Zatara’s daughter. You have a way with magic, my dear.”

“Thank you,” she says, obviously pleased.

Batman doesn’t smile, per se--at least, not like Orin, but he’s at least vaguely happy. Or so Kaldur supposes. It’s hard to tell. “Good work, Zatanna.”

She beams, and Kaldur can’t help but feel just as excited.

The charm changes more than just his gills.

It makes his hair appear jet black and curly, and rounds his jaw, but his eyes keep their shade. He spends an ample amount of time looking at himself in the mirror and struggling to recognize the person staring back.

“Hold still, Kal--holy shit, you’re gonna break so many hearts,” Artemis says giddily. She swings an arm around him and Zatanna snaps a photo of both of them. “Seriously. This almost makes me wish you were coming to Gotham just to see the girls there lose their minds.”

M’gann giggles behind her hand. “This really is pretty amazing, Zatanna. And Kaldur, I mean, you’ve always been almost ridiculously handsome...” she trails off, looking flustered.

Kaldur smiles, surprised and flattered all at once, and when Wally gives Conner a slackjawed look he simply shrugs and says, “She’s not wrong.”

“Okay,” Wally says flatly, “anyone else wanna say they’ve been in love with Kaldur, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Aye,” his team says together, and that makes Kaldur’s face warm and he laughs again, unsure of what else to do under the weight of their stares.

“As fun as it would be to attend to school with you, Artemis,” Kaldur says, honestly, because he can only imagine how Artemis’ alter ego might act, “I’ve already discussed with Aquaman and Batman. I’ll be attending Happy Harbor with M’gann and Conner.”

“And me!” Zatanna adds, beaming. “I’ll be transferring in December. Uh, surprise?”

M’gann immediately hugs her and squeals, in a way that’s so endearing, Zatanna can’t help but squeeze her in return. “This is going to be so exciting!”

“Our fearless leader’s growing up,” Robin says, smirking, and Kaldur immediately thinks of all the times Roy called him less-than-flattering names for giving him the same treatment.

“If you ever need any chem help, you know where to turn to, bro,” Wally promises.

“We finally get to help you the same way you’ve been helping us this whole time!”

Conner makes a face. “No promises from me. I mean, I’ve always got your back just...don’t ask me about English. I actually might make things worse for you.”

Kaldur laughs, which Conner looks pleased by, and he’s almost overwhelmed by how excited his team is for him.

“What name are you gonna use?” M’gann says thoughtfully. “I’m sure you could get away with Kal still, but you’ll need a last name.”

“Actually, I was thinking of using Curry.”

M’gann looks like she actually might cry, but keeps it together when she says, “I love it.”

“Alright, Kal Curry, hold still.” He’s caught by surprise when Artemis slips behind him and pulls the necklace off.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want to forget you. You you.” She bumps their shoulders together, and pushes his hand closed around the necklace. “I get having to hide, but here? With us? You’re still purely you.”

Kaldur nods appreciatively, thankful she’s taken to the extra step to make him comfortable. She, M’gann, and Conner are at least vaguely aware of the disputes with Atlantean purists; frankly, Kaldur, despite his discomfort, displeasure, and anger with the creatures who try so hard to shame the diversity of his home, hasn’t thought of it in a while. He’s been….distracted, to say the least.

“Thank you, Artemis,” he says quietly.

She smiles at him, and behind her his team wears similar looks of genuine affection, and it’s a lot to take in. He’s not used to the attention, but he supposes, he should start to try getting more comfortable with it.

And not a minute later, he gets a text from Roy saying: nice look and the bewildered expression on his face prompts a round of hearty laughter from the team. Robin winks, and says, “What? He wanted to see!”

Kaldur just groans.

By the time M’gann makes the cheerleading team, Kaldur’s up to his ears in catch up work, both in school and out. It had been a while since he’d been in school, and he had to adjust, slowly but surely, to the constant pressure on his brain reminding him of a looming test. He admits, he missed it, in a weird way. Not that he particularly loves chemistry--though, his magic has made him very familiar with it--but he find it relaxing to solve problems in a topic he knows so well.

Also, M’gann is in his chemistry class, and she has more of a tendency to mix chemicals wrong than he does. (To her credit, he’s pretty sure she does it just to make him laugh, and so far as a pretty high success rate.)

English is surprisingly tough; Kaldur is fluent, but writing timed essays still gets him frustrated. His teacher laments that he’s too wordy, and being a bit more concise would help him. Trigonometry is just as terrible as it when he helps Zatanna with her work, but World History is, by far, his favorite. (It is entirely possible French wants him dead.) The only class he doesn’t have with Conner or M’gann is Art History.

Due to entering later in the year, the only seat open the class in the back next to a kid with a clean-cut fade and a letterman jacket. He smiles easy at Kaldur, and Kaldur smiles easy right back.

“Call me Vic, man,” the kid says, hand out to shake.

“Calvin,” Kaldur replies, equally as friendly.

“Alright, Cal, I’m gonna be your savior in the class. Mr. Wiseman’s a tough dude but he mostly just looks scary--that doesn’t mean this stuff isn’t hard as shit though.”

Kaldur laughs, but soon learns Vic hadn’t been exaggerating.

Roy, being Roy, checks up on his him in the least subtle way ever: via text, on a Thursday night, as Kaldur’s hunched over a table full of homework, with Conner, Zatanna, and Wally.

From Roy Harper: So how’s school going, kid?

He groans immediately, ignoring the curious looks he gets from the others.

To Roy Harper: I do not know how, or why, but I fully believe you knew Aquaman was going to do this and did nothing to stop it.

From Roy Harper: Lol paranoid, much?

From Roy Harper: and yeah, i had a hunch, but i thought it would be good for you

To Roy Harper: I suppose you were not entirely wrong.

From Roy Harper: mhmm

To Roy Harper: My apologies. What I meant to say was thank you. Since when are you wise enough to give me good advice?

From Roy Harper: I’ve always been good at iti, I’m just shit at taking my own advice

From Roy Harper: also i should mention that i offered to let you live with me in star city but the jl didnt go for it

Wally has just about forgotten his homework by now, seconds away from bouncing out of his seat. “Kal, what is it? Are you okay?”

“I am fine,” Kaldur says in his best leader voice, and does his best to hammer his face into a neutral expression

To Roy Harper: You what?

From Roy Harper: i mean, it would've helped, right? with the loneliness?

To Roy Harper: Yes, of course. I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything before I already made plans with Batman and Aquaman.

From Roy Harper: didnt wanna pressure you

“Oh,” Zatanna stage-whispers, “I know that smile. That means he's talking to Roy.”

“Oh. Oh, wait, what,” Wally squeaks. “Really, dude?”

Conner, very impatiently, comments, “If you’re going to be this loud, you can do the rest of my math homework.”

“In your very best of dreams, Supey.”

“Then keep it down, Kid Can’t Shut Up.”

From Roy Harper: gtg, come over soon, we can talk about this later. plus i gotta hear your high school horror stories

From Roy Harper: and see Zatanna’s magic work in person, pics don’t do it justice

From Roy Harper: also, a little birdy told me you go by Curry now?

To Roy Harper: Goodbye, Roy.

From Roy Harper: hahahaha

From Roy Harper: see you, kal

Wally asks again why he’s smiling, and Kaldur, none to gentle, tells him to can it.

As the weeks go by, he spends most of days at Happy Harbor with M’gann and Conner, and sometimes with Vic, who turns out to be football captain, and takes to Kaldur like a house on fire. His favorite thing, apparently, is to scare the living daylights out of Kaldur by greeting him with a friendly slap on the back of the head by his locker. Kaldur will get used to it, eventually, but he admits his crime fighting instincts kick in every time.

Just before Thanksgiving break, Vic catches him first thing, while he’s still at his locker with M’gann and Conner before homeroom.

“Cal! Glad I caught you man,” Vic says, trading his typical head-slap with a fist bump instead. “Listen, the team’s throwing a get-together Friday night. You should come.” He glances to Conner and M’gann, and adds, “All of you. The hell, man, I didn’t know you knew Kent and Megan?”

“We go way back,” M’gann says cheerily. “And we’d be happy to go to your, um, get-together. Right, guys?”

Conner shrugs, which everyone at Happy Harbor seems to understand is his way of showing excitement. Kaldur, on the other hand, hesitates for a second too long.

“Nooo way, you can’t back out on me again. Last time you bailed because of the lamest reason ever, and I only take so many rainchecks before I get personally offended.”

What Kal doesn’t say is that last time, Sportsmaster had spent a good part of Friday night trying to take his head off via hand-axe. It was a mission that ended with Cheshire kicking him in the face--again--and tossing Robin over the side of a building. It had been spectacularly long night for the team, and he’d just barely remembered to text Vic that he wouldn’t be able to make it after all.

Instead, he shrugs noncommittally. “I’ll try my best,” he says honestly.

Vic sighs. “I guess I can take that. But if you bail again you owe me.”

He catches up to more of the football players after that, leaving Kaldur with M’gann and Conner.

“You are gonna go, right?” Conner says first.

“I am not sure,” Kaldur admits. “Victor is friendly, but I do not know the rest of the team, and--”

“Oh,” M’gann says suddenly, sounding concerned, “Kaldur, are you...nervous?”

The bell rings before he has to admit to anything.

Somehow, Zatanna finds out about the party, which means the whole team finds out about the party, via mental communications link, mid-mission.

“Wait, you were thinking about not going? What the heck, man! If the captain of the football teams says go to his party, you go to his party!”

“Is now really the time?” Kaldur grunts, trying to deflect a kick to the chest. Wally flashes by, carrying the merc off with him, and adds his two cents on his way out.

“I say go, man! Live a little, let your hair down. Chillaaaax.”

“Hey Wally? 2007 called, it wants its slang back.”

“Don’t hate, Arty, appreciate.”

“I’d appreciate it if your mouth didn’t move as fast as the rest of you did. On that note, I vote you go, Kal. Remember what I said about being a ladykiller?”

Kaldur does his best to express a bland expression via thought, which gets a few snickers.

“I don’t get it, why don’t you want to go?”

“He’s allowed to have his reasons,” Conner says. And then half-screams and he rips the metal doors of the facility open with his bare hands.

“Yeah, but what are they?”

“Enough,” Kaldur thinks in his most threatening command voice. “There is a time and place for civilian discussion, and right now is neither the time nor place. This discussion is indefinitely put aside.”

According to the team, “indefinite” means “as soon as we get back to base.” Kaldur’s barely out of the shower by the time someone’s knocking on his door, and he’s rushed to throw on a shirt and pants before he opens.

Somehow unsurprisingly, it’s Zatanna in the hallway, hip cocked and wearing an expression that makes his brow furrow. “Can we talk?” she says, already slipping inside his room.

She goes straight to his bed and tucks her feet up underneath her, the same way she’s done several times before. Her expression hasn’t changed.

Sighing, Kaldur closes the door and leans against it. “Zatanna--”

“No, you don’t get to do that anymore. Make excuses, I mean. Let me know what’s going on, or tell me to get out, just quit trying to hide.”

After a pause, she too sighs, allowing her shoulders to sag. “I’m not trying to harsh, it’s just that--you’ve been there for me since...I just want to return to the favor. That’s what friends do, Kal. Tell me what’s up.”

He must have a special talent for getting people to reach their final limits of patience. The air in the room turns uncomfortable, and Kaldur does his best to keep looking at the floor.

Roy was right. He really isn’t good at this.

“I am...I have my reservations about attending...for various reasons,” he says stiffly.

“Are you worried about the charm wearing off? I can give you a backup if that’s the problem.”

“No, no, Zatanna it is not your magic,” he says firmly. “You have done exemplary work. I have had no problems so far.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Kaldur drums his fingers against the door. “I do not want to put you in an uncomfortable position,” he says. “To ask you to harbor my secrets from the team is….”

“Dude, just say it already. I pinky swear no one’s gonna hear a word from me.” He hesitates, still, and she groans. “What will it take for you to talk to me? I’ve literally cried myself to sleep on your shoulder, secrets shmecrets. No matter how ugly you think it is, you can tell me. I promise, Kaldur.”

Kaldur stares at her for a long while. He crosses his arms, visibly hesitant, then says, “I do not know much about how teenagers relate to one another without supervision on the surface world.”

“Kal--” She stops, her nose scrunching in thought. “Oh, man, are you nervous?”

Again with that word--Kaldur makes a similar face as he had when M’gann said it, but this time there’s no bell to rescue him from explaining himself. Instead he’s forced to meet Zatanna’s concerned eyes and nod.

“It is much easier to be with M’gann and Conner than it is to be with other students. They know this,” he gestures to his hands and gills, “and they are comfortable with me as I am. I know the necessity of my ruse, but it makes it...difficult to be as honest as I would like to be. It makes connecting with the other students…”

He trails off as she slaps a hand to her forehead. “Of course, I hadn’t even thought about it…. M’gann does it so easily, but I should’ve known hiding yourself wouldn’t come as easily to anyone else. And you’re not really used to how regular kids interact and...aw, jeez, Kal. I’m sorry.”

“It is not your fault.”

“I know, I know, but….I mean, I suggested this and now I want to help you.” She bites her lip. “It’s part of the problem of balancing two identities. Part of you is always gonna feel like you’re being dishonest. But you’re not. The reality of Calvin Curry is that he’s a transfer kid with an uncle from the area--but he’s also you, he’s kind, and he’s funny, and he’s genuine.”

Kaldur doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t been expecting that. He nods, unsurely, and Zatanna invites him to sit next to her.

“Listen,” she says, “as long as you can show those kids why we all love you, you’ll be fine. The only thing that’s any different is the name you write on your essays. And you can tell people you really trust who you are.” She grins, “That goes for the party, and for us on the team too.”

“Zatanna…”

“It won’t be easy, but you’ll get used to it. Plus, you always have M’gann and Conner, and soon you’ll have me too.”

He runs a hand over his head, trying to let her words sink in and let his guard down at the same time. It’s a similar feeling to going to the Academy in Atlantis; butterflies in the stomach at the thought of meeting so many new people and never knowing how well the interactions would go. But even then, he’d always had Tula and Garth by his side to ease his nerves.

What Zatanna is saying is the same concept, just different faces, but the trust and familiarity is all the same.

“Okay,” he says. “In that case, I will attend.”

“Really? Kal, I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you had to--”

“I know, I know,” he says. “I merely want to try what you have told me. Call this my leap of faith.”

He smiles, and she smiles just as brightly in return. Without warning, she throws her arms around in a short but tight squeeze. Perhaps in the past, Kaldur would’ve flinched at the unprompted contact, but he finds himself working an arm around her to warmly return the embrace.

“And, by the way, nice shirt.”

He looks down and to his embarrassment, realizes he’d thrown on Roy’s UCLA shirt in his haste to get dressed. Groaning to drown out her snickers, he says, “This did not happen.”

“I didn’t see anything,” she agrees, still giggling.

Kaldur, for all his apprehension, needn’t have worried; when he shows up, Vic smiles like it’s Christmas and immediately thanks M’gann for bringing him. “I knew I could count on you, Megan,” he says sincerely. He opens his arms for a hug, which Megan blesses him with, short and quick, and falls to her default by Conner’s side again.

“Kent, I owe you.”

“Consider it an early Christmas gift,” Conner replies.

Vic laughs. “I’ll take it! Y’all come in, it’s cold as shit out there. Drinks in the kitchen, dance floor downstairs, upstairs is off limits.” He throws an arm around Kaldur and squeezes, “Now you’ve gotta meet the team! And Mal, the big guy’s been dying to get me to shut up about you. But first, you need a drink.”

Vic’s about Kaldur’s size, even though Kal’s Atlantean strength gives him the upper hand, he lets Vic drag him away into the kitchen, where more kids are crowded into a variety of alcoholic drinks lay strewn about the counter.

“We’re saving our cash for Christmas, that’s when we splurge on the good stuff,” Vic explains. But grabs a beer can and presses it into Kaldur’s hands. “Bottoms up?”

Kaldur has had alcohol before--America’s drinking age is absurd, by Atlantean standards--but he’s never been big on it. Nonetheless, he cracks the can open and takes a long swig, causing Vic to cheer. “Okay, tough guy, wanna chug? We’ll chug.”

The beer tastes terrible, unbelievably bad, but Kaldur clinks cans wtih Vic and chugs it anyway. He’s not worried about getting intoxicated--not only is the beer gross, it’s practically water.

Which is why Vic gets him to chug another without much fight, and then they go off to find the rest of the team. As soon as Victor shows up, at least ten different voices all scream, “STONE!” at various levels of drunkenness.

Victor laughs smoothly and loudly and points to each team member as he says a name. “Joe Jackson, Nicky Free, the twins Lewis and Thomas Jones--” and he goes on, until Kaldur has more names in his head than he thinks he can list, but he smiles big and friendly at the other boys and they do the same. Another shoves up again him, and Kaldur finds himself dwarfed by a kid with nearly half a foot on him.

“And this fucking giant is Mal Duncan,” Vic says. “Mallie, quit thundering all over my parent’s place, you’ll bring it down!”

“Laugh it up, Stone, I’ll bring you down with it,” Mal jokes, as the two pull each other into a quick hug. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Calvin! Call him Cal. He’s the guy from my Art History class who should’ve joined the team this year, seriously. Don’t look at my like that, Cal, I’ve seen you run outta Wiseman’s class. You float like a butterfly and then some.”

Kaldur shrugs sheepishly, which gets a laugh out of Mal. “Don’t let him embarrass you too much. Give Stone an inch and he’ll make it a mile.”

“God, Mal, you sound so much like your old man right now.”

“And proud of it,” Mal shoots back.

“Mal’s old man works at STAAR Labs. He’s gonna get me a job there one day, right man?”

“In your fucking dreams.”

Kaldur can’t help it--he laughs out loud, both at Mal’s dry tone and Vic’s resulting pout. “Sorry--”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Vic knows he’s a joke,” Mal laughs. “And if I catch his ass anywhere near STAAR I’m slapping him into last week.”

“Vic, you were right,” Kaldur says, “you really do bring out the best in people.”

Mal belly laughs and Vic punches the both of them halfheartedly, and after that, it’s so much easier than Kaldur thought it would be.

Too easy, actually.

One of the cheerleaders shows up with a bottle of some liquor Kaldur can’t name, and before he knows it he’s had more than just a couple of shots, and it’s not until he bumps in Conner that he realizes he has gotten carried away.

“Kal, are you okay?” Conner’s squinting through the dark to try and see his face.

“I am fine,” Kaldur lies, with the confidence of someone who has just realized they are drunk. Or at least, buzzed. Which means it’s time to wrap this up; even inebriated, Kaldur’s still aware of his duties as a team leader. And that training tomorrow will be hell, should he wake up sick. “Actually, I think it would be best if we leave soon.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, I said I am fine,” Kaldur repeats. “But we have training tomorrow and I still run a team, and if Canary finds out that we missed morning training because of a party, I fear she may actually throw us through a wall.”

Conner snorts, but nods in agreement. “I’ll grab Megan. Don’t go too far, okay?”

“Okay,” says Kaldur. It’s just past 11:00 when he looks at his phone--and then he gets the brightest idea to text Roy. He’d typically be at Roy’s place around this time anyway, if movie night wasn’t an option.

To Roy Harper: remember that time you told me to let loose?

From Roy Harper: Kaldur you bastard

From Roy Harper: you did not got drunk without me

From Roy Harper: oh my god you got drunk??

To Roy Harper: i am not drunk

From Roy Harper: no proper punctuation? Looks drunk to me

Kaldur is extra careful to tap out his next message,

To Roy Harper: I am not drunk do not be ridiculous

From Roy Harper: yeah, bc im the ridiculous one in this situation

From Roy Harper: where are you?

To Roy Harper: Happy Harbor, with Conner and M’gann.

To Roy Harper: I am safe, mom, thank you for the concern

From Roy Harper: dear god are you sassing me?

To Roy Harper: I always sass you.

From Roy Harper: yeah but you have never in your life admitted to sassing me. This is insane. For my next birthday youre getting wasted and were gonna play 20 questions and then my life will be complete

To Roy Harper: I will tell you what we will not be doing.

From Roy Harper: booze makes you a sass monster idk how i feel about this

To Roy Harper: can you make it to the cave tonigght?

To Roy Harper: tonite

To Roy Harper: *tonight?

From Roy Harper: i would go to fucking mars rn if i meant i got to see you like this

To Roy Harper: I changed my mind, you are annoying, stay in Star City

From Roy Harper: too late, im omw

“Cal?”

He looks up to see Vic, smiling sloppily. “Okay, Calvin, I see you. Who’s the girl?”

“Huh?”

“The way you’re smiling at your phone? You’ve got a girl, right? Do I know her? Are y’all--”

Kaldur interrupts with a laugh, pulling Vic into a short hug. “Not a girl, my friend. Maybe I will tell you about it after break.”

“You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Thanks for this, Victor, really.”

“Hey, man, anytime. You’re fun as fuck, you get along with Mal--you gotta be a saint or something for that. I know moving around sucks, I just want you to know that Happy Harbor’s gonna be the best place you ever lived. I want you to love this place as much as I do.”

“I think I might be getting there,” Kaldur promises, and Victor’s face lights up.

“Booyah! That’s what I’m talking about, hornets for life!”

“Okaaay,” Conner interrupts, getting Kaldur by the upper arm. “Thanks for the party, Victor.”

“Anytime, Kent! Drag you and your girl to our Christmas shit, yeah? And you too, Curry, I swear to God--”

“Goodnight, Vic,” Conner says, trying not to laugh, and then maneuvers him and Kaldur out of the house, M’gann not far behind.

She’s looking at Kal with a funny smile, and loops her arm through his without hesitation. “So, that was fun!”

She makes a face at Conner, who laughs, and then obediently loops his arm through Kaldur’s other one as well. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Fun’s the word I would use.”

“I can walk,” Kaldur says, frowning.

“Oh, we know.”

“This is just the only time you’ll ever let us get away with this.”

Kaldur opens his mouth to argue, but winds up keeping it shut. They’re not wrong.

M’gann and Conner get him through the zeta-tube in one piece--though it feels much worse with alcohol in your system, Kaldur learns. The Cave’s mostly dark, thank goodness, which means Zatanna’s already in bed and whoever else is staying the night is asleep as well, presumably.

They finally release his arms and exchange their goodbyes--M’gann kisses him on the cheek and says, “I’m proud of you, Kaldur. And of Calvin Curry. It’s nice seeing you like this.”

He squints at her. “Under the influence?”

“Relaxed,” she half-snorts. “I know that wasn’t easy for you but you look like you actually enjoyed it.”

“I did,” Kaldur says, blinking, surprised by himself.

“I can tell,” she smirks.

He’s still functioning a bit slow, but Kaldur connects the dots after a pause. “Wait, is that a joke because I am drunk--”

“Not to interrupt, but I think you’ve got visitor, Kal,” Conner says, pointing to the couch.

Where Roy is perched, arms crossed, and trying to hide a smile.

Kaldur had nearly forgotten about texting him, which had seemed so brilliant at the time, but now that Roy’s sitting here he can’t really make any correct sounding words.

“Goodnight,” Conner says, voice dangerously close to teasing, and then the two disappear before Kaldur can read it into it.

Back to Roy. Right. Kaldur just prays he won’t embarrass himself.

“I did not think you would actually come.”

Roy has his arms folded over his chest, and he untangles them to wave a hand in the air, as if brushing Kaldur’s words away. “No, it’s actually good timing. I’ve decided to join your team. Like, actually join. I was gonna surprise you guys tomorrow, but no harm done in spending the night.”

Kaldur, remembering morning training, groans. “I have made a grave mistake.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure even Batman’s shown up to work with a hangover. It’s happened to the best of us,” Roy smirks.

Kaldur makes his way towards the couch, maybe a hair too fast and feels his balance suffer for it, and before he knows what’s truly happened, Roy has an arm around his lower back, steadying him, and the other around his shoulders. He is close, Kaldur’s brain supplies unhelpfully. Just...close.

“I am okay,” Kaldur insists.

“Course you are.”

Several moments pass, and Roy doesn’t let him go. And, well, if they’re going to stand around like this--Kaldur shifts, his weight leans into Roy, and he allows his head to drop, ever so slightly, onto Roy’s shoulder. It’s barely anything, and so much all at the same time.

Roy’s shoulder starts to shake. He’s trying not to laugh.

“Shut up,” Kaldur snaps.

“Oh my god, this is amazing. If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve asked, man.”

Kaldur scoffs and turns his head, letting Roy’s shoulder cover most of his face.

“Wait, wait,” Roy wheezes, “don’t hide, lemme look at you. I gotta see Zatanna’s charm...thing at work.”

He allows Roy to pull him away, take a once over.

“The team said I was, as M’gann put it, ‘ridiculously handsome.’”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Roy mumbles. The tips of his ears are flushed pink. “Is it the necklace?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly Kaldur feels warm fingers on the back of his neck; Roy lifts the string up and over, and though Kaldur feels no change, he knows he now looks like himself. He’s not sure if that makes the situation better or worse.

“Personally, I’ve always been a fan of the gills, fishsticks,” Roy smirks as he slips the charm into Kaldur’s pocket.

“I will not stand for the revival of that terrible nickname.”

“Would you sit for it?”

Kaldur makes to object again, but Roy adds, “It’ll be more comfortable for you that way, cuddle monster.”

So Kaldur sits.

Roy cracks a smile again, but doesn’t laugh, this time simply gets an arm around Kaldur and squeezes. “As fun as this is, you really have to sleep soon. And drink some water. And brush your teeth, damn, did they give you fucking moonshine?”

He immediately goes to check his breath, but Roy knocks his hands back down. “Kidding, Kal.”

“Oh.”

“Oh my god,” Roy says again, and then Kaldur is pressed closer against him and the two lean back on the couch. It is, as Roy had said, very much a cuddling position. Kaldur belatedly realizes he doesn’t have any idea what to do with his hands.

“So….we need to talk, Kaldur.”

“I do not like those words when you say them.”

“No, shut up, I’m allowed to be dramatic too. Now’s obviously not a good time, but once you’re sober we really need to...I just need to tell you something. And we need to figure some stuff out.”

“Okay,” Kaldur concedes. “Stay here a second longer, though. This is...nice.”

Roy, for once, does not object.

The alcohol had made him drowsy, but it also burns through his system very quickly. Kaldur wakes up sluggish, but no headache, thank goodness. But he can tell it’s still early--much earlier than he would’ve liked to wake up--and he’s still pressed into Roy’s side.

For a moment, he waits, struggling to determine the best course of action to take in the situation. Roy’s arm is around his shoulders loosely, comfortably, as if he could hold Kaldur to him forever. And if Kaldur weren’t so positively panicked, he may have let it happen.

Instead, he attempts to lift himself up as gingerly as possible. Maybe he can escape this unscathed. Maybe he can retreat to his room, attend training and pretend this had never happened, even though his heart hurts at the very thought. This isn’t anything like his situation with Tula--he would never deny that he loved her, or even that he’d been in love with her, and the heartbreak he’d felt at being rejected was entirely real. But the way his heart breaks right now is from his own self-imposed distance, and the further he pulls himself away from Roy, the worse it gets.

Kaldur has spent a long while denying himself of the things he wants most, and perhaps that is what causes him to freeze completely against Roy’s chest.

He huffs, and to his chagrin, feels Roy’s chest rumble with a resounding chuckle. He can’t help that he digs his fingers into the fabric of Roy’s shirt as he pulls himself up enough to see the redhead’s face.

Roy is smiling, albeit sleepily. It is the softest Kaldur has ever seen his face. He rests his hand on Kaldur’s head, rubbing his short curls, and for second the look between them is pure warmth, uninterrupted and much, much deeper than anything Kaldur ever expected. There’s a certain tenderness Roy allows himself, having just woken up, and he focuses it completely on Kaldur. .

Just like that, the moment ends; realizing where is, Roy jerks into alertness, pulling his hand away from Kaldur’s hair and instead using it to rub at his own neck, eyes downcast in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.

Kaldur is not proud of the small gasp that escapes him when Roy takes his hand away. He lifts a hand as if to reach out to him and pull him back, quietly calling his name at the same time.

“Roy--”

“We need to talk--”

They laugh, a bit awkwardly, and then Roy gestures at him. “You first.”

Not to say he will ever be truly ready for this, but this as good a moment as any to confess and for once in his damned life, stop torturing himself. “I...There is--”

Now that he is here, and it has been so long of picturing a similar moment, Kaldur doesn’t actually know what to say. This is not like speaking to his king, or his team. It’s like talking to Roy, and his typical candidness is why it feels so hard to be open right now. He’s never needed to right words to speak to Roy before, but this feels different and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

“Quit thinking so much,” Roy says, gaze gone softer than usual, but not to the extent it had been when he’d first woken up.

“I have been told overthinking is one of my worst qualities,” Kaldur says, mouth cotton-dry. Part of him thinks this would be easier if he weren’t still resting on Roy’s chest and looking into his eyes in a moony manner, so he pulls himself into a proper sitting position and steadily ignores how much is instantly misses the embrace.

“So try not overthinking. Just talk to me.”

Nodding, Kaldur grimaces. His resolve is already built, but his body has a hard time catching up to his brain. Nonetheless, he pretends like the very breath hasn’t been sucked out of his lungs and steels himself. “The thing is, Roy, that I have feelings for you...and have felt this way for a while, now. Even when I harbored feelings for Tula. I do not think how I felt towards her was ingenuine, but it was...blown out of proportion,” he admits sheepishly. “I did not know how to tell you, or if I even wanted to tell you.”

“Wait, why?”

“Because, Roy, people do not typically react well when their best friend suddenly expresses romantic interest.”

He winces, because he shouldn’t have been so curt, but Roy laughs, for some reason. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I didn’t say anything either.”

That takes a moment to process. “What?”

It’s Roy’s turn to look like a wrung piece of cloth. He’s pink around the ears and he explains, “You were heartbroken, for one. And then the mole thing happened--and the school thing happened, and you had your team, and your work cut out for you, and I guess I forgot how to open my mouth.”

“I--I do not--” Kaldur shakes his head. “Is this why you wanted me to move in with you?”

“What, so I could pine up close?” he scoffs. “I offered because you are my best friend, and you were clearly hurting, and believe it or not, sometimes people want to do things for you because they want you to be happy. I wanted you to move in with me so you wouldn’t be so damn lonely all the time. Aquaman’s the one who said he had a better idea.”

Kaldur will decide later how he feels about the king’s meddling--for now, he feels a bit dizzy from how the emotions are running through his head at mock speed. “I would’ve said yes.”

“I know! Which is why I gotta tell you that I’m-- the whole being into your best friend thing is...hard. Not in a bad way, just in a, I don’t know.” He runs a hand over his hair, not quite making eye contact. “It makes everything so complicated.”

“Yes, complicated,” Kaldur echoes faintly. “I am all too aware of what you mean.”

“I never wanted us to be an ‘it’s complicated’ situation, Kal. Half the reason I wanted to talk to you is so I could finally be fucking honest with you.”

Kaldur’s heart is racing as he swallows hard. “I am sorry I did not say anything sooner.”

“Shut the whole hell up. Why are you apologizing? When the hell did I complain about your timing? If anything, I’m mad at myself, not you.”

“But I still--”

“Still nothing, Kal,” Roy says plaintively, and then, in one seamless, fluid motion, leans forward to kiss him.

Kaldur wastes no time; he brings his hands up to pull Roy closer, sighing through his nose, and the relief that settles in bones nearly brings tears to his eyes. He has everything he wants, right here on this couch, lips pressed against his. This is absolutely it, as far as he’s concerned. Roy’s returned feelings could keep him going for the next two weeks, sleep be damned.

Realizing that he’s finally attained the happiness he’s spent so long denying himself of, Kaldur smiles, and does not, for one second, regret a single thing.

#yjbigbang #yj big bang #young justice #kaldur #roy harper #kalroy #fic

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