Work Text:
1.
Jason was sitting on the couch in their Star City safe house and working his way through The Three Musketeers in the original French when Roy emerged from his workroom. There was a grumpy look on his freckled face, and his hair was a tangled mess around his head, a sure sign that he’d been running frustrated fingers through it.
“Ugh,” he said.
“Shh,” Jason said.
“Ugh,” Roy said for emphasis. “Nothing is working and I hate everything. This day has been a total waste.”
“Sounds rough,” Jason said. He turned the page.
Roy flopped down on the couch and squirmed until his head was on Jason’s lap, forcing him to move his book and blink at his partner in surprise. “Um, hi?” Jason said.
“I’m cranky,” Roy said, as if it wasn’t obvious. He was still pouting, pink lower lip pushed out. There was a freckle on it. “Pet my hair until I feel better about my life choices.”
“What? No,” Jason said. “Get up, asshole.”
Roy let out a long-suffering sigh, but he didn’t get up. Jason sat holding his book at an awkward angle, unsure of what to do. He could tell Roy to get up again, but when Roy decided to be stubborn, there was very little that would move him. He could push Roy off, but that seemed like a lot of effort when he really just wanted to sit here and read his book.
Finally he settled for propping his book on the arm of the couch, which had the double benefit of being comfortable and allowing him to turn the pages with one hand so that he didn’t have to reach over Roy’s face to do it.
He read a couple more pages. Roy still didn’t move.
Tentatively, Jason let his free hand drop to Roy’s hair. It was softer than he expected, the strands cornsilk-fine and catching on his calluses. He stroked his fingers through it carefully, and Roy sighed and—well, snuggled, there was no better word for it—into his thigh.
This was weird. Roy was a pretty handsy person in general, but he’d never crawled into Jason’s lap before. But he’d done it so casually that Jason found himself wondering if he was the one being weird, if this was totally normal. Jason had never really had a lot of close friends before Roy and Kori. Maybe back in his Titans days, Roy had asked Dick and Wally and Garth to pet him all the time. Jason frowned at the mental image.
His fingers worked gently through Roy’s hair, detangling the mess he’d made of it. It was on the long side now. Roy kept telling Jason to remind him to get it cut, but Jason never did. He liked watching Roy play with it when he was distracted; he liked the way it fell around Roy’s face when he tugged it out of a bun. He liked the way it smelled.
Roy sighed again and closed his eyes. Jason thought about tracing his eyebrows with a finger, the bridge of his nose.
Instead, he forced himself back to his book, one hand still idly stroking Roy’s hair.
*
2.
“How’s it coming, Arsenal?” Jason asked.
“It’d be coming a lot faster if you’d stop asking me that and let me concentrate,” Roy sing-songed, hunched over the tablet in his hands that he was rapidly typing code into.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are my questions disturbing your tranquility?” Jason asked, then flinched as a bullet ricocheted worryingly close to his ear.
They were crouched behind a car outside of a factory in Who The Fuck Cares, Montana. The sleazy company that owned the factory had used military funding to come up with a smart headset that turned even the most hopeless mooks into sharpshooters with perfect night vision—and then immediately opened a black market bidding war to sell to homegrown criminals under the table. The Outlaws weren’t exactly in Montana with Batman’s blessing, but he’d mentioned the company to Jason as something the Red Hood might want to look into. And completely obliterate.
Barbara could wipe the company’s digital records from back home in Gotham, but someone needed to destroy the physical prototypes, which was where the Outlaws came in. But they’d been made as they approached the building, and now they were pinned down by a dozen headset-enhanced guards. Roy was trying to hack into the headsets to turn the guards back into average shmoes, leaving Jason to pop up from behind the car occasionally and lay down covering fire, but the guards were inching closer and they were running out of time.
“Roy…” he said as another bullet ricocheted off the car and nearly took out the brim of Roy’s dumb hat.
“Nag, nag, nag,” Roy said. “Annnnd...bam.” He tapped a button on the screen victoriously. A few seconds later, the gunfire faded, replaced by confused swearing. “No more night vision, no more improved aim. Just twelve idiots and us.”
“Right,” Jason said. “You go left, I’ll go right, we meet inside and burn these motherfuckers to the ground.”
“I love it when you talk dirty,” Roy said, getting up off the ground and into position. “Bow?”
His bow was on Jason’s other side. Jason picked it up and handed it to him.
“Thanks, babe,” Roy said, lifting up the brim of his cap with his free hand so that he could smooch the cheek of Jason’s helmet. Jason couldn’t really feel it except as gentle pressure, but he heard it, a cartoony smack! before Roy straightened up and nocked an arrow in one smooth motion. “Let’s go!”
He bolted out from behind the car, but Jason stayed where he was, stunned.
Roy had just kissed him.
Roy had just kissed him?
Roy had just…kissed him.
“Hood!” Roy yelled as the gunfire started up again. “A little help, here?”
Jason shook it off and forced himself to his feet, moving on autopilot as he fired scattershot rounds at the guards, making for the front door of the factory. Roy hadn’t kissed him. Roy had kissed the helmet, as a joke, and Jason couldn’t even feel it so it didn’t actually matter.
Calling Jason “babe” had been a joke, too. Clearly. Which was good, because Jason wanted neither pet names nor kissing from Roy, obviously, because...well, because they were partners, and because he just didn’t, and Jason needed to stop letting this distract him or he was going to get shot even without his opponents boasting enhanced aim.
He caught up with Roy in the doorway to the factory. “Thanks for finally joining the party,” Roy said.
It was your fault I was distracted, Jason didn’t say. “No problem,” he replied instead. “Let’s do this shit.”
And they kicked the doors in together.
*
3.
Jason stood in the kitchen of the safe house, clutching the cup of coffee in his hands like it was the only thing standing between him and toppling back into his grave.
Three days ago, the gates to Hell had opened up and flooded the surface world with demons, which seemed to happen with fairly disturbing regularity. The entire hero community—plus the occasional killer with delusions of redemption like Jason—had spent those days fighting pretty much nonstop while a small band of magic-users did battle with Neron and closed the gates again.
When it was over, Jason and Roy had checked in with the rest of the Arrows, then crawled back home and into their respective beds. Jason had slept for nearly twenty hours before lurching into the kitchen to make the biggest pot of coffee he could. He was halfway through his first cup now, though, and it was doing nothing—not to mention that basically every part of him hurt. Maybe he’d finish this cup and go back to bed.
Maybe he’d take the coffee pot with him.
He heard Roy’s bedroom door creak open, and then the bathroom door opening and shutting. He closed his eyes and communed with his coffee. A couple minutes later the bathroom door opened again, and Roy shuffled into the kitchen. Jason opened his eyes.
“Mornin’, Jaybird,” Roy said, and stretched luxuriously. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. There was a scrape down the right side of his rib cage and a large, nasty bruise blossoming over his left hip. His nipples were hard.
Jason forced himself to look at Roy’s face. “It’s three in the afternoon.”
“That’s morning in…” Roy’s face scrunched up. “Another time zone. Somewhere. I can’t think. Fuck, I’m sore. And not even in the fun way.”
Jason should have been too tired for that to affect him. He made a noncommittal noise and took another sip from his mug.
Roy’s sleepy blue eyes landed on the coffee pot. “You beautiful man, you made coffee.”
“This is my pot, get your own,” Jason said half-heartedly. He didn’t bother to actually try to stop Roy from approaching the coffee pot, but he didn’t move, either, even though the shelf where they kept the mugs was behind his head.
Roy leaned past him, bracing himself with a hand on Jason’s hip. His hair brushed Jason’s cheek, and without thinking about it, Jason turned his head just enough to press a kiss to Roy’s temple. Then he froze.
Roy also paused for a second, then pulled back, mug in hand and an amused smile on his face. “Well, good morning to you too, Jaybird!”
Heat flooded Jason’s cheeks, and he knew he was bright red. Why had he done that? Sure, Roy had kissed him on the helmet that one time, but it had been a joke, and they’d been separated by metal. Jason’s lips had touched the softness of Roy’s skin, which was totally different. And why had it felt so natural?
“I told you, it’s three in the afternoon,” Jason mumbled, unable to look at Roy. “I’m going back to bed.”
Clutching his coffee, he pushed past Roy and hurried back to his bedroom, where he drained his mug before crawling back into bed and pulling the covers over his head. Why, why, why had he done that? Why wasn’t Roy teasing him more? What if Roy came after him?
But the minutes passed, and Roy didn’t come after him. Jason told himself he wasn’t disappointed.
Maybe another twenty hours of sleep would fix this.
*
4.
Jason huddled inside his jacket. Fuck, it was so cold. Had he always been this cold? Would he ever get warm again?
They’d been tracking down a serial killer who’d been working the suburbs outside of Star City, the fancy neighborhoods with fireplaces and deep foundations. Somehow he’d known they were on his trail. Somehow he’d lured them into what turned out to be a root cellar without their weapons and locked the door, leaving them underground, in the dark.
It wasn’t a grave. It wasn’t a grave, and Jason didn’t need to start digging. There was no reason for the clammy sweat beading on his forehead.
He wasn’t alone, either. Roy was there, and just because he didn’t have his quiver didn’t mean he didn’t have his tools. He’d managed to jury-rig a light source from a few random odds and ends—Jason thought a potato was involved, but he also wasn’t sure if he was in his tactical gear or his burial suit, if he was twenty-three or fifteen, so he wasn’t the most reliable witness tonight. Roy got the door open while Jason was still fighting not to vomit.
“Come on, Hood,” he said, holding out a hand. Jason had the helmet on and Roy couldn’t see his face, but somehow he knew. He always knew. “We’re getting out of here, and we’re taking that fucker down.”
They’d cornered the killer in the living room. He’d come at them with the fire irons. Not a crowbar. Something entirely different. But. But.
There was a roaring in Jason’s ears. No. Laughter.
It was Roy who pulled him off the guy before Jason beat him into a pulp, Roy who asked Oracle to send in first responders. “It’s done, Jaybird. You did good,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
Roy drove, which was probably for the best. The road kept flickering in and out in front of Jason, a drop-off into a stinking green sea that rose up to meet him, that would never let him go. Death would never let him go.
He wasn’t sure when they got into the safe house. All he knew was that Roy had him halfway out of his gear and he was shivering so badly Roy couldn’t get the various straps and buckles undone.
“Easy, Jaybird,” Roy soothed. His hands were so hot they burned. Jason leaned into them. “It’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe.”
“Roy,” Jason managed, choked.
“I’m right here,” Roy said. “Can you take off your pants? I don’t think you want to sleep in them.”
And then Jason was in his briefs and undershirt, shaking like a leaf. His bed was an icy grave, a yawning void of loneliness. He turned helplessly toward Roy, the only bright spot in the world.
“Okay,” Roy said, even though Jason hadn’t asked him a question. “Okay. Hang on.”
He shucked off his own clothing in a few quick motions, down to his underwear, and then the light was out and he was pulling Jason into bed. Jason was the bigger of the two of them, but Roy bundled him up in his arms like he was small, like he was precious. Like he was safe.
“It’s okay,” he murmured against Jason’s hair. Jason’s face was pressed to Roy’s throat. Roy had sweated during the fight earlier and he smelled warm and earthy and alive. “You’re here with me, baby. You’re home. You’re safe.”
“Roy,” Jason said again, muffled. Roy was warm. Under the blankets, in the dark, Roy was warm.
“I know,” Roy said. “I’ve got you.”
The Pit receded. The laughter faded. Jason knew where he was. He was in his bed, in his safe house, with Roy.
Roy would never let him go.
Jason slept.
*
5.
Jason wasn’t sure how he’d let Roy talk him into going out to a club. He didn’t dance, and he rarely drank—even less now that he spent all his time around Roy. Occasionally he went to a club in civvies to case it before crashing in a couple hours later as Red Hood, but he always felt awkward when he did, hulking and scarred and out of place.
Roy didn’t seem to have the same problem. He was out on the dance floor now—and if Jason couldn’t dance, Roy really couldn’t. That didn’t stop him from enjoying himself, nor did it deter the pretty girls and boys flocking around him, drawn as much by his lack of embarrassment as his toned arms and easy charisma.
Jason leaned against the bar, sipping a ginger ale and watching Roy. He waited for jealousy to overtake him, but it didn’t. Roy was just having too much fun for Jason to begrudge him anything.
He was aware of the woman leaning against the bar next to him without having to look at her. Bat training never turned off.
“Hi,” she said.
Now Jason turned. She was about his age, pretty, with dark hair and an intriguingly low-cut top. “Hi,” he said.
She stuck out a hand. “I’m Amber.”
Blinking, Jason straightened up so that he could shake her hand. “Jason.”
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” she said. “You new in town?”
“Mm, sort of,” Jason said, tilting his hand in a “maybe” gesture, because he certainly wasn’t going to say that he and Roy had only been using Star City as a home base for their global operations for the past year. “I’m from Gotham originally.”
“Wow, big change,” Amber said. “What brought you all the way out west?”
Roy had missed his family. Oliver Queen wasn’t high on Jason’s list of people to move close to, but it was worth it to see how happy Roy was to be home.
Instinctively, Jason’s eyes sought Roy out on the dance floor. Roy caught him looking and waved.
“Oh,” Amber said, as if Jason had answered her question. “Got it! Sorry, I misread that one.”
Jason frowned at her, and then realized what she meant, what she’d assumed. He opened his mouth to correct her, but Roy was already there, slinging an arm around Jason’s waist. He was flushed and breathing hard, smiling. “Hey, Jaybird! Who’s your friend?”
“I’m Amber,” Amber said, holding out a hand. Her body language was completely different—still friendly, but not in the same way.
“Roy,” Roy said, shaking it. “How do you two know each other?”
“Oh, we just started talking two minutes ago,” Amber said. “So how long have you two been together?”
Jason looked helplessly at Roy, waiting for him to explain where Amber had gone wrong, but he just looked thoughtful. “Hm, I think it’s coming up on two years, right, Jay?”
Two years. It had been a little less than two years ago that Jason had gone to Qurac to save Roy. “Something like that,” he croaked.
“Well, happy early anniversary,” Amber said, holding up her glass to them.
Roy beamed at her. “Thanks!” he said, stealing Jason’s drink and giving it a quick sniff before clinking it against Amber’s glass and taking a sip.
And Jason…
Jason didn’t argue.
Jason didn’t want to argue.
*
+1.
Jason lay in bed, curled against Roy’s warm back, his arm draped over Roy’s waist. Since that night they’d been locked in the root cellar, they’d started sharing beds more frequently. First, when they were on the road and couldn’t find a room with two beds at the last minute, or if the nearest safe house had no heat and it was warmer to share. Then back in their Star City safe house, if one of them was having a bad night—Jason had learned to read the signs when Roy was craving, when he was lonely, when he was reliving the mistakes he couldn’t forgive himself for. When he tugged Roy into bed with him, Roy always followed.
That...probably wasn’t platonic.
Roy kissed him now when he was feeling playful, on the cheek or the forehead and once, startlingly, on the nose. He’d flop into Jason’s lap and let Jason play with his hair. He called him “baby” and “sweetheart.”
Jason let him do it. If he was honest with himself, Jason loved when he did it. Sometimes he had to fight to keep his hands off of Roy, especially at home, when it was just the two of them.
...And it was a home, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just another safe house. They’d built a home together. Jason had moved to the other side of the country so that Roy could be walking distance from his family. He’d all but given up alcohol for him. He’d pulled Roy into bed with him tonight for no real reason except that he wanted him close.
He might be an idiot for not having figured it out for this long.
He could tell from the steadiness of Roy’s breathing that he was nearly asleep, but suddenly he couldn’t wait. “Roy?” he asked, his voice low.
“Mm?” Roy replied sleepily.
“Are we dating?”
Roy was silent for so long Jason would have thought he was asleep, if he hadn’t gone so tense in Jason’s arms. “...We could be,” Roy said finally.
Jason frowned. “Have you just been waiting for me to notice?”
“Uh…”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Turn around.”
He let go so that Roy could roll over to face him. There was enough light coming through the curtains from the streetlight outside for him to make out the sheepish expression on Roy’s face. “You were!” Jason said. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“It wasn’t, like, an elaborate scheme,” Roy said. “I’m not a Bat.”
Jason flicked him in the ribs. “Asshole.”
Roy grabbed his hand under the blanket. “Well, I’m not,” he said, then sighed. “I just...you were letting me love you, Jaybird. And I was afraid if I said it out loud, you’d tell me to stop.”
Jason’s mouth, already open for its next complaint, stayed that way. Was Roy saying he loved him?
Did Jason love him back?
He thought about flying to Qurac because a man he’d barely known years ago was sentenced to death. He thought about following Roy to the other side of the country just to make him happy. He thought about lazy afternoons with a book in his hand and Roy’s head in his lap, the safety and comfort in his touch.
No “might” about it. Jason was definitely an idiot.
Roy was still watching his face anxiously. Jason raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, you’re a lousy fucking boyfriend,” he said. “Two years and you can’t even kiss me properly.”
The tension melted out of Roy. Jason could see it, in the dim light of his—their—bedroom; he could feel it where he and Roy were touching.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Roy said, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. “The only question is whether you’re ready for it.”
“Ready for what?” Jason challenged. “Because I’m hearing a lot of talk, Harper, but I’m not seeing any action to back it—”
Roy kissed him.
Roy kissed him like he’d been thinking about exactly how to systematically devastate Jason with it for two years, and maybe he had been. His lips, his tongue, his hands as he pressed Jason into the mattress, as he cradled his face in his broad palms—Jason was helpless beneath the barrage, breathless and aflame.
“Oh,” Jason managed when Roy gave him space to breathe. “I wasn’t ready for it.”
Roy’s brow furrowed. “You weren’t?”
“No.” Jason hooked his arms around Roy’s neck. “Better try again.”
Much, much later, Jason lay with Roy sprawled across his chest, sweaty and sated. He trailed his fingers through Roy’s hair, untangling the knots that his own greedy fingers had caused.
“Okay,” he said. “So maybe you’re not such a lousy boyfriend.”
Roy huffed a tired but triumphant laugh. “Nailed it,” he said and kissed Jason’s chest.
“Don’t call me an it,” Jason said, and Roy laughed harder. Jason didn’t bother to fight the stupid smile he knew was on his face.
“What about me?” he asked, pushing Roy’s hair back from his forehead. “What kind of boyfriend have I been all this time without knowing it?”
“Perfect, Jaybird.” Roy beamed at him. Jason loved that smile. Jason loved him. “You’ve been perfect.”
It wasn’t true in the slightest. But Jason would take it anyway.