Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/948165.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Young_Justice_(Cartoon)
  Relationship:
      Roy_Harper/Wally_West
  Character:
      Roy_Harper, Wally_West, Artemis_Crock
  Additional Tags:
      One-Sided_Attraction, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Anal_Sex, Masturbation
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-30 Words: 8081
****** Red ******
by AeeDee
Summary
     A prompt from the YJ_anon_meme, for a story that basically goes like
     this: After a fight with Artemis, Wally is at Roy's apartment,
     spending the night when he hears Roy moan his name.
     JSYK, Wally/Artemis is mentioned, but it's not endgame. (Hey, I don't
     want to mislead anybody.)
Roy adores the freckles beneath Wally’s eyes. They nearly vanish in a dark
room, and darken in the sun. It’s a small detail, that he’s sure most don’t
notice. He only does because he looks too often. He has to be cautious not to
get caught, but he is always looking at that face.
He likes the outline and shape of Wally’s body, underneath his uniform. The
outfit itself is too superhero cliché for his tastes, but he understands that
the kid wanted to pay an homage to his hero. It’s no different from the tacky
Speedy garment Roy himself wore; a tribute to a mentor, and a kind-hearted one
at that.
Besides, that outfit was special. He liked Wally’s outfit more than anybody
else’s, because when they stood next to each other, they wore the same colors.
For those brief instances in time, Roy could pretend they went together, that
the similarity was intentional. But when he became Red Arrow, he had to
sacrifice the yellow, because maintaining the same color scheme would go
against his message of independence. He couldn’t bear to lose the red. Even if
the red was just an accent on Wally, it was something that connected them. When
they were young, when him and Wally ran around raising Hell alongside Robin,
besides the yellow, that red was the color all of them had in common.
And red is the color of Wally’s hair, just like his. Except that Roy’s turns
more of an orange under sunlight, and Wally’s never loses its saturation. It
never loses its luminance.
Roy is probably the only person that knows that specific difference in their
hair color. He knows Wally has freckles, and he does not. He knows how dark
Wally’s skin can get during the summer, and that his own will never do anything
except burn. Wally’s eyes are green, and Roy’s are blue, despite most people
assuming otherwise.
He adores Wally’s eyes. He adores his face. He adores his tacky outfit, and his
fit body. He even adores his quirky humor, and his bizarre antics. He doesn’t
get all of his jokes, but he doesn’t care. His bromance with Robin gets
irritating at times, but he doesn’t mind. Roy firmly trusts that Wally is also
his friend, and that’s what’s important. He was allowed to befriend whoever
else he likes, as long as he continued to make time for him. For the longest
time, arguably months now, that has been all Roy wanted. That has been all he
could reasonably request.
But then it happened.
Wally came over one day, those eyes glowing and his entire face beaming. He
couldn’t sit still, and he kept talking a mile a minute about anything and
everything. He was giddy without being aware of it, he kept collapsing into
fits of giggles and laughter at his own jokes and he even hugged Roy when he
saw him, outright jumped at him and threw his arms around his chest like there
was a special occasion for it.
And when he spoke to him he’d sigh, with a smile that’d linger for several
minutes after he finished speaking. When they enjoyed their usual dinner of
pizza and soda, Wally didn’t eat as much as usual, because he was too
distracted by his own happiness. He’d stare into space, gaze unfocused, before
Roy would snap his fingers or say something to startle him out of it.
Before he left for the night, Wally finally admitted it.
“I… I like someone,” with a blush creeping onto his face.
And Roy, who loves the freckles on Wally’s face, who loves the soft green of
his eyes, the subtle muscle of his fit body, the honesty in his humor and the
exact way he was smiling just then- It was enough that he could manage a,
“Who,” because that was probably the only damn word he’d be able to say.
Wally paused, nervously looking away.
Please.
“Well…” Wally’s blush was adorable. His inability to speak was adorable. The
way his arms were shaking, his body trembling, like there was too much energy
to contain-
Please, God.
Roy, who loves the red in Wally’s hair and his outfit, and how dark Wally’s
skin turns during the summer. Roy, who loves-
“Artemis.”
It takes surprisingly little to kill a dream. Even one that takes months to
develop, to grow inside your mind from an idea that seemed impossible and
ridiculous; even one that took all that effort, and that precise moment of
chance to spontaneously appear at all.
For a moment in time, Roy thought that finally, finally, Wally could fall for
him.
But the cruel Fate is that Wally does like archers. He likes bold, aggressive
personalities. He likes intelligent minds, strength of will, and impulsive,
brash confidence. He just doesn’t like those qualities in Roy.
He doesn’t care about the red in their uniforms, the difference in their hair
color or the fact that Roy’s skin only burns in the sun. He doesn’t care about
the difference in their eyes, or the fact that, for all of their years knowing
each other, Roy hasn’t been able to date anyone, hasn’t been able to sleep with
anyone for more than a one night stand. Wally probably didn’t even notice, and
if he did, he wouldn’t view it as his problem.
Rightfully so. It wasn’t.
It took more self-control than Roy believed he had, to force a smile at his
friend. It took more willpower than he wished he had, to lie to his face.
“That’s cool.”
He couldn’t say what he wanted. He couldn’t say what he meant. So instead he
left it at that, and tried to hide the pain threatening to appear on his face
as he listened to Wally ramble about how amazing she was, how special and how
interesting.
“When we talk, it’s like… We’re meant to be,” he swooned.
Roy just nodded.
“She really gets me.”
He stared at the face he adored-no, the face he loved, those eyes glittering
with joy, the smile that refused to go away, those freckles turning bright as
his entire face was flushed, the slight frowning of his eyebrows, and the way
he anxiously blinked back at him, as if he’s waiting for either a high five, or
a congratulatory remark.
But all Roy could say is, “That’s cool.”
Wally paused for a moment, with a sudden look of shock. “Oh wait… Shit, man,”
he looked away. “I forgot…”
Roy calmly tilted his head in question. Because whatever Wally was realizing,
he was certain it was nothing relevant to the truth. Nothing relevant to the
truth screaming inside his head.
He was right.
“You and Artemis… Aren’t you still mad at her?”
“I got over it.”
His blinding, devastating, crippling love for Wally made him get over it. He’d
learn to tolerate any of Wally’s friendships, so when Wally warmed up to her,
Roy did what he could to drop his grudge. Because he knew she was becoming
important to Wally. He saw it from a mile away. He’d only had one request; one
desperate wish that he couldn’t voice.
Please don’t take him from me.
“Oh, that’s cool,” Wally’s beaming, as he leans forward slightly, raising his
hand to initiate a high-five.
You can take anything else. Oliver, the team, the League if you see fit…
Roy returns the gesture, trying to ignore the precise torture of his fingers
brushing against Wally’s, of his hand being right there and his own inability
to hold onto it.
“You had me worried for a second there,” Wally shakes his head with a grin.
But please don’t take him.
“Sorry.”
Roy had never said those words; he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d cringe
whenever he saw Wally accidentally flirting with her, and he felt ill when he
noticed her returning his clumsy advances. He wasn’t surprised by the news. He
was devastated, but not surprised at all. He wasn’t dumb. And he wasn’t blind
or deaf. He knew it was there. He knew there was something between them.
He’d just hoped, hope against hope, hoped to God that his love for him would be
enough.
When Wally left, after a warm farewell of, “Let’s do this again soon,” Roy
locked the door behind him. He locked the door, and fell still. He stayed there
for a long time, pressing his hands against the door, feeling the grain of the
wood against his open palms. He frowned to himself, pulled an arm back, and hit
the door; hit the door so hard the wall shook.
The more he tried to calm himself down, the more he couldn’t. There’s no outlet
for his violence, and he was too tired to exercise it out. So he did the only
thing he could.
He cried.
He sat down on the floor, in front of the closed door, his face in his hands;
and cried.
In his empty apartment, all he could hear was the sound of his muffled, broken
voice. The pained, faint sobs he’s trying to stifle. He’s humiliating himself;
he’s embarrassed. The silence was taunting him. All this empty space.
Wally would hate to see him like this. This would only hurt him, because he
wouldn’t know why he was sad. He would give a reassuring hug, but he wouldn’t
have the right words. He just wouldn’t understand.
Because he doesn’t care about Roy’s tolerance of his friends, or the reason why
he wears the color red.
Roy cried until his eyes burned. He sobbed until his throat was sore, and he
couldn’t speak the next day. But none of that dulled the pain, it only reminded
him that crying was useless, and equally as pitiful as it ever was.
Because when you’re alone, no one’s there to see you cry.
And no one cares why.
-
Roy hasn’t seen Wally in several days; likely a few weeks. Wally had promised,
as always, to make time. He’d send text messages, asking when Roy was free,
saying that he could probably drop by. Only for that message to later be
followed by a response of, Sorry, something came up, or Sorry, got a date
tonight.
Somehow, Roy’s value to Wally has fallen dangerously low. He’s below Artemis,
the girlfriend, and he’s below Robin, the best friend, and he’s below the team.
Roy understands each of those. He knows Wally had obligations. He knows he has
a busy life. Unlike him, Wally is not a social failure; not when it counts,
with his friends. He gets that.
But he always thought he belonged in that list somewhere.
TV’s on. The volume’s low, because he doesn’t care about the show. He’s running
the microwave, reheating a sandwich he probably should just throw away. When
his phone rings, he initially doesn’t respond. It’s never important.
He receives a text, immediately after. He checks that.
Dude are you home? Can I come over?
Roy sighs. Not this again.
Sure, if you can make it this time.
But he’s not getting his hopes up. His phone buzzes with a new message, as the
microwave comes to a stop with a loud beep. He pushes a button to stop its
noise. He checks the message.
Yeah sorry about that. You know how it is. Ill be there.
But Roy won’t believe that until he actually appears on his doorstep.
-
Speak of the Devil.
Wally did come over this time.
…To talk about Artemis.
“I don’t get it,” he whines, throwing his arms up in the air, as he reclines
back into the couch. “I didn’t even do anything to her.”
“What exactly did you do,” Roy asks, as he waltzes back into the room, two
sodas in hand.
He’s handing one of them to Wally as the boy explains, “I said she was cute.
Cute. Is that so bad?”
“When it’s not your girlfriend, it is.”
Wally’s face takes on an exasperated expression. “Why? Artey would’ve said she
did, too!”
Roy shakes his head, “That’s not how women work.”
“Well how do they work then,” Wally groans, as he pops open the can. A small
sizzling, foaming noise, as he frowns at it, “Why can they give each other
compliments and I can’t?”
“I don’t know,” Roy’s growing irritated with the subject, but he does what he
can to downplay it as he takes a seat on the couch, a few feet away. He has to
be careful to keep his distance. He doesn’t want to chance any accidental
contact between them. He’s not in the mood to handle it well.
“I mean, what is she jealous of Megan for, anyway?” Wally frowns, staring at
Roy like it’s his fault.
Roy knows not to take it personally. “You did crush on her for a while.”
“Yeah but I’ve crushed on a lot of people,” Wally whines. “I got over that
one.”
“That one?” Roy questions, pausing in motion, just before he was about to open
the can, fingers hovering above it unsteadily.
Wally frowns at him, “Yeah.” He gives a sly grin, “There are a few girls I’d
still… you know,” with a smirk. He says whimsically, his eyes glazing over, “If
ever given the chance…”
Girls.
“Yeah,” Roy hides his disappointment—but why the hell is he feeling let down
anyway; he knows he never had a chance—and gets back to work on his soda.
They sit in silence, before Wally interrupts the moment and asks, “Hey, Roy.”
“What,” as he leans back a little, sliding back to make himself more
comfortable.
“I bet you know a lot about relationships, huh?”
…So much for that.
“Not really,” he shrugs. He accidentally lets it slip, “I’m a failure at them.”
“Really?” Wally’s voice is neutral, but when Roy glances at him, the boy looks
like he wants to laugh.
“Yeah, really. I’ve had two dates in five years.” He can remember them both
pretty well, but they don’t carry any sentimental value. One of them ended in
sex; that was the only highlight of that night.
“Damn,” Wally’s eyes grew wide. “That’s weird.”
“Not really. I like someone that doesn’t want me, so...”
But he stops, with a sudden intake of breath. His entire body stiffens up, and
he hopes Wally doesn’t notice.
“Dude,” Wally says in awe. But his voice dissolves into a small laugh, “How
could she not want you?”
Wally.
“You’re awesome,” he grins good-naturedly.
Wally, don’t.
“She’s either dumb, or…” he thinks out loud, and then asks, his eyes roaming
around, “Have you…” as they land on Roy, “even told her?”
“No point in it.”
“Oh, so that’s that why,” he laughs, reaching out to hit him on the shoulder.
“Moron! You’ve gotta tell a girl you want her.”
Wally’s touch lingers for a matter of a few extra seconds; seconds longer than
it normally does. But Roy knows it doesn’t mean anything.
Don’t be nice to me, Wally.
Roy stands up, as he thinks quickly, to escape the situation. “I’ll be back.”
“Hey-” Wally’s saying, almost annoyed as he stares up at him. But he shrugs as
Roy’s walking away, assuming it’s no big deal. “Okay.”
Roy retreats into the bathroom, because it’s the only other enclosed space in
his small apartment. He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t have an agenda. He
doesn’t have a way out.
He just needs a few minutes to himself. A few minutes to desperately try to
clear his head. Because right now, his chest is throbbing, his head is hurting,
and his entire body feels weak, like somewhere between Wally arriving and them
sitting there and talking, he’s exhausted himself.
He closes the door behind him, and puts his hands over his face. He needs to
hide his tears, just in case someone walks in. Just in case Wally gets curious.
Except that he knows he won’t. Not that much.
Because Wally doesn’t care. Not the way he wants.
There’s no room left in his heart.
-
When Roy comes back, he’s… okay.
Wally’s gives him an annoyed look, glancing over his shoulder as he pauses the
game he’s been busying himself with. “Where’d you go? That took forever.”
That’s right. Wally has a low tolerance for time. It’d only been roughly ten
minutes, but to a speedster that felt more like an hour. Roy reasoned that must
be why he had to occupy himself…
He picks up a controller, hastily saying, “Nowhere,” in a deep tone that’s
almost like a growl, a tone that automatically implies he does not want to talk
about it.
Wally gets nervous around Roy when he’s angry; so he knows better than to push
his buttons.
So when Roy says, “I’m joining in,” Wally lets himself relax.
He smiles at his friend, “Awesome,” and downplays his concern.
Besides, Roy knows how to take care of himself. If it was something serious,
Wally knows that Roy would tell him.
When Wally glances at him for reassurance, he notices that Roy’s face is
slightly more swollen and flushed than it was before he left.
He would, right?
Wally bites his lip and turns his attention to the game, as the tv fires up
with a loud voice, “FIGHT.”
-
At this point it’s just ridiculous, but Roy can’t fall out of love with Wally.
He doesn’t know how. He believes in the strength of his own mind. He believes
in his own ability to set himself onto a course and stick to it.
But it turns out that, when he falls in love, he’s as stubborn as always. It
makes him into one hell of a masochist. Regarding Wally and everything else he
wants and fails to have, he’s destined to endure a lifetime of loss and
unfulfilled need.
But right now, he’s not feeling too bad. He’s feeling… better.
Because that feeling, that joy trapped inside his chest; it makes him dizzy. It
makes him feel weightless. Wally’s smile, Wally’s laugh, Wally’s happiness;
these are the drugs that ease the pain.
It’s impossible to win a game against a speedster; not if he were playing
honestly. So Roy knows that Wally’s slowing himself down, to give him a fair
chance. In a way, it’s endearing. But Roy has to be careful not to dwell on
that.
Wally even acts like he’s being defeated. “Aw, come on,” he feigns like he’s
facing genuine difficulty. When he starts to win every round, he slows down
even more, allowing Roy to claim a few victories. Roy smiles at him as thanks,
but he doesn’t tell him that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
He doesn’t want Wally to ever realize how perceptive he is of him. He doesn’t
want Wally to ever know how much he knows. He doesn’t want Wally to know that
he’s aware of his usual speed, when he plays through a game alone. He doesn’t
want Wally to know that, when they’re in the same room together, he’s always
watching his face, his hands, his body, everything.
Few others understand just how fast Wally is. The kid himself doesn’t
completely believe in his own worth, so why would anyone else. No one finds
Wally as amazing, as stunning, as incredible as Roy does. And that’s okay. He
doesn’t mind that.
Because for a while, that was just his secret. His, and maybe Wally’s immediate
family. Maybe Dick had noticed him doing something incredible every once in a
while. Otherwise, Wally was surrounded by people that treated him like less
than what he was; well-intentioned peers and fellow mentors that just couldn’t
understand.
Because to everyone else, Wally was just some kid.
To Roy, Wally was his entire world.
Almost.
At the very least, he was right there at the center of it.
They take a break; Wally complains that his hands hurt, but Roy knows that’s a
lie. He just gets impatient when he has to move so slowly for such an extended
amount of time. It exhausts him. Something else most do not know.
Wally’s stretching, his arms above his head as he gives a small yawn, and
murmurs something about “calling it a night.”
Roy agrees, “Yeah,” as he sets down the controller. He sits up, and moves
towards the tv screen, as he starts to shut the system down.
He feels Wally’s eyes on him, but he’s not sure why.
“So,” Wally’s voice is a tired murmur, “You gonna tell her?”
The question startles Roy so badly that he almost drops the game’s disc; he
frowns to himself and inwardly curses as he recollects his composure. And when
he snaps its case shut and glances back at Wally, he keeps his face calm,
“What.”
“The girl you like,” Wally gives a tired grin, as his eyes are falling heavy.
“You should tell her.”
“Maybe,” he tries to dismiss him quickly, as he shuts the tv off. The screen
goes dark. He crawls back to where Wally is, but he’s wise enough to not sit
too close to him.
Because with the look on Wally’s face, and how beautiful he looks right now,
his expression tired and completely calm, Roy knows it would not end well to
make any contact. He may not be able to pull himself away.
“I’m serious,” Wally’s voice is a murmured drawl, as he lays down on the floor
with a worn-out sigh. “I mean, how else are you gonna know if she…” He’s
trailing off, “you know.”
“Yeah. I know.”
But he won’t say a word.
Roy watches him idly, as Wally closes his eyes, his breathing slowing down.
This is ordinarily around when he’ll nag at Wally to relocate himself to the
couch or something, but…
He doesn’t have the willpower to do that.
Instead, he lays down onto the floor some feet away, and allows himself to take
in the view, just for a few minutes. A few minutes that become several, as he
watches Wally’s closed eyes flutter slightly, the way his hand is gradually
sliding off his chest, and he listens to the sound of his breathing, slow and
silent in the room, which always feels so much less empty when he’s here.
It feels right, when he’s here. Like this room should always feel this way.
He moves a tad closer; he can’t help it. He won’t do anything too stupid, he
just wants to… he just wants to see him better. That’s all.
He sits up, giving a small sigh as he looks down at him, as he watches him
descending further into being asleep. When Wally’s face is at rest, his
eyelashes are actually quite prominent. His lips, when completely still, have a
natural upturn at the edges, like he’s smiling in his sleep. There are no
freckles on his nose, not even the bridge. His eyebrows are almost completely
straight, which makes them more expressive when he frowns. His jaw has a sharp
edge, and there’s almost no roundness in his chin, except when he laughs. His
neck is broad and his shoulders are narrow.
All these, details no one else knows.
Or cares about. Not like he does.
Roy sighs to himself. He decides to let Wally sleep there, as he stands up to
go wash his face and get dressed down for bed. Well, bed as a technicality,
since in this small place, his only bed was his couch. He’d normally seize the
floor—actually, precisely where Wally was, not too far from the television—when
he crashed here, but that now seemed unnecessary.
He washes his face, but it doesn’t really help. He doesn’t feel any better than
he did before. He doesn’t feel refreshed, or lighter in any sense. He feels
heavy. Heavy. So heavy. And…
Hard.
Fuck.
-
Roy lays down on the couch, a blanket spread over himself as he tries to
consider the ramifications of what he’s doing. But his mind is lost in that
blank space, an empty and dark void there’s no coming back from.
He firmly holds a pillow over his face, to suppress his own heavy breathing.
He tried to sleep this off. He really did. But dammit it began to hurt. Every
time he moved, it hurt. Every time he tried to focus on anything else, his mind
wandered back to Wally, and goddammit it hurt again.
Besides.
No harm done.
Wally would never know.
No harm done.
-
Wally hears a voice; a quiet voice he doesn’t understand. Speaking words...
Words he can’t piece together. Incomprehensible murmuring.
He opens his eyes slowly, as he regains consciousness.
Incomprehensible sounds. Deep breaths, almost like gasps.
Roy.
Is he in pain-
But it doesn’t take Wally, even in his half-awake state, long to realize that’s
not the case. Because somewhere in between those breaths, is a moan.
Does he have someone over-
But there’s no other voice. No other sounds, just those. Just those, and the
sound of movement, of a rustling on the couch.
Deep breaths. Almost like gasps.
Wally does what he can to ignore it. He closes his eyes. Re-attempts sleep.
But there it is.
“Wal...”
He forces his eyes to remain shut.
“Ha.” Deep breaths. “Wally.” Deep breaths. “Wal…”
Wally starts to shiver.
“Wally.”
-
Roy had finally passed out.
Wally had waited. He’d waited until he’d fallen still. When he stopped making
those sounds. When he’d heard the faint rustling of fabric, a quiet, “Shit,”
and the sound of his footsteps traveling across the room. And his eventual
return.
Wally had waited until Roy had come back, reclined back onto the couch, and
passed out.
He’d sat up impatiently, flinching and gasping in silence as he felt a rush of
pain. God, he’d been hard for so long. Too long. Too damn long.
His original plan was simple. Wait until Roy fell asleep. Retreat to the
bathroom. Work it out.
But when he sat up, and happened to see Roy on the couch, sprawled out and dead
to the world, his mind wandered. He was watching him in silence, in awe of what
just happened; still stunned and not nearly as disgusted as he should have
been.
A hand wandered to his groin. The advantage to being a speedster. He could do
this right here, just to get it done. Quickly.
He slides a hand inside his pants; pauses, to make sure Roy’s not hearing any
of it. No response. No movement.
He shivers as his hand caresses his cock, and he has to suppress another gasp
when he realizes just how sensitive and sore it is. He feels like he’s been
hard for days. Days with no release-
He’s almost crying while he jacks himself off, partly from his shame but
otherwise from his confusion.
What is wrong with me,
But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He can’t stop, as he keeps thinking of that
voice, of that voice calling his name, thinking, thinking-
Wally.
Another look at Roy’s face, of his restful and firm body, of his arm that’s
hanging off the couch, fingers suspended in mid-air. The same fingers that were
arguably touching his- No wait, but if Roy’s right-handed, then-
Oh dear God he doesn’t care, it’s Roy’s hand, and-
He lets a small whine escape, as he comes. He rides out his orgasm in silence,
biting his lip, shivering, shaking, trembling before he relaxes, feeling his
own cum spilling over his fingers, soaking his briefs, dripping down his legs-
Oh God.
-
The television is already on when he wakes up. There’s something cooking on the
stove. He stirs, and sits up in a slow stretch. His back hurts, but apart from
that, he feels rested. Surprising, considering what just-
He pauses; freezes, as that moment of horror comes over him. Because while he
was asleep, he’d been able to not think about it. But now…
Wally.
He has a sharp intake of breath, as he hears someone’s footsteps, not too far
away. He clears his throat and looks over his shoulder, to see Roy standing
there, with a plate in his hand.
His hand-
Wally draws a blank. “Yeah?”
“What,” Roy stares down at him.
“Huh?” Wally’s too disoriented to act like he understands what’s going on right
now.
“I didn’t say anything,” Roy frowns at him.
“Oh, s-” he hits his forehead with his hand, “Sorry, I’m tired.”
Roy responds flatly, “Come eat.”
Come.
Wally tries to fight the blush threatening to appear on his face. “Okay.”
This was going to be a long, long morning.
-
Silence. It’s oppressive, the silence between them. So Wally does what he can
to break it; to lighten it a little. “So, did you sl-”
But Roy cuts him off. Unexpectedly.
“You gonna call Artemis,” his voice is unusually somber. He’s not even looking
at him. He’s looking at his slice of toast.
“Uh yeah,” Wally shrugs, “Sure. I will in a sec.”
“Okay,” before he takes a bite from it.
“You trying to get rid of me?” Wally forces a small smile. But the truth is
that he’s scared. He doesn’t know of what. Just.. scared.
“No,” Roy glances at him, before his eyes fall down to the table somewhere.
“Just figured you should.”
“I… Yeah, I guess.”
Roy just nods at him.
Wally stares at him, as passively as he can manage; he’s quick to avert his
eyes when Roy looks up.
There’s something wrong with him.
Roy always likes to pretend that nobody can see it. He likes to act like nobody
knows when he’s actually upset. He likes to believe he’s in this world all by
himself, and that he’s an island drifting by others, unconnected, unattached.
That everything he goes through is something no one will ever know or
understand.
Wally understands. He’s just never had the courage to say it.
Because Roy looks a certain way, when he’s angry. When Wally hits a sensitive
spot, and makes him mad. Roy gets a look on his face, like he’ll either kill
himself or someone else. He looks threatened and hurt, and even if it’s just
for a brief second in time before he catches himself, a brief fraction of time
is enough for him to notice.
Roy always thinks he regains his composure quickly enough. But Wally sees it.
He just knows better than to say anything.
He knows better than to do a lot of things.
He sits back, sliding his plate away, and stands up. “I should go.”
Roy gives him a hesitant look, but Wally doesn’t stop to question it.
-
It’s some days before he sees Wally again.
Roy knows something happened. He knows. He just doesn’t know what.
Well, he has a pretty damn good idea.
Goddammit.
But Wally came back. He’s here, and that’s what matters now.
Wally, with his friendly smile. Wally, with his patient nature and his
eagerness to look on the upside of a situation, even one as awkward as this
one.
They can’t talk about it. They won’t, probably.
But Wally’s here. He’s here.
He’s pressing his body against his, not even seeming to care how close this is,
how flirtatious this is, how inappropriate it is, all things considered; he’s
pressing his body against his, pressing his chest against his back as he peers
over his shoulder, trying to get a better view.
“Do I need to pick you up,” Roy jokes, using a calm smile to disguise how
fucking giddy he feels right now.
“No way,” Wally responds promptly, placing a hand on Roy’s shoulder to steady
himself. He whines, “Why are there so many people?”
“You can move closer, if you want,” a murmur.
“Nah, I’m okay,” he says with a small flash of a smile, “Cause I’d leave you
way behind.”
“It’s okay,” he turns to look at him more directly, “If you want.”
“Nah.”
Wally.
Kind, considerate Wally.
Wally, always slowing himself down, always holding himself back, always denying
himself privileges for the sake of others.
Wally, who he loves so much-
The hand on his shoulder is clenching tighter; just a little.
All around them, the crowd is roaring into a cheer. The athletes take the field
down below. But Roy’s too distracted to care; because Wally’s hand is on his
shoulder, and why hasn’t he gotten down yet.
Roy happens to be looking at Wally, when Wally turns to face him directly, as
if he’s about to say something. But the moment he starts that lazy smile, and
as soon as his jaw starts to move, and his lips to curve; he stops. He pauses,
and stares back at Roy, with a kind of bewildered look that’s more disoriented
than anything, like he’s battling a thought inside his head that he can’t
voice.
Wally climbs off him; he lands back onto the ground with both feet, but they
don’t stop staring at each other. They can’t. The reasons may be different but
the intent is the same.
When Roy hesitantly leans in towards him, Wally doesn’t pull back.
The roar of a crowd around them, loud voices in frantic conversation, as action
erupts on the field.
Roy’s locking lips with Wally.
-
Roy’s tongue is inside my mouth.
Wally’s eyes are closing.
Roy’s tongue is inside my mouth.
He can’t contain himself as he gasps into the kiss, his body shaking, shaking,
as Roy places a firm hand on his back to stabilize him. To soothe him somehow.
It’s okay. I’m just gonna end this here.
He sinking deeper into it, he’s parting his lips even more, he’s panting in
pleasure as he finds himself savoring the taste of his mouth, the heat, the
texture of his tongue, the rushed pace of his breathing-
I’m just gonna end this. It’s gonna be okay.
But his mind wanders, as starts to return the gesture, as he’s pushing back
against Roy, taking on the role of the aggressor, the boy who’s suddenly too
desperate to do anything but kiss back, but lick and taste him and-
He can still hear that voice inside his head.
Wally.
He suppresses another gasp, as he feels Roy’s strong arms winding themselves
around his shoulders.
Wally.
-
“No. We’re…” he looks away uncomfortably, as he keeps his eyes to the floor. He
keeps his voice in a quiet hush, “We’re not like that.”
Behind them, now seemingly miles away, down this lonely hallway, in the distant
world outside the stadium is cheering again.
“We’re not like that, okay?”
Roy gives a single nod. “I know.”
“We’re just friends,” his voice an almost delicate whisper. “I mean, I’m seeing
someone, and-”
“I know.”
“I mean, I don’t wanna mess that up, it’s going well for me-”
“I know.”
“And she might be the one, you know?”
Roy gives a single nod, “Okay.”
Wally’s voice is small and fragile. “Okay?”
Roy nods. “Okay.”
Wally looks at him with some exasperation. “I..” his eyes fall to the ground,
as he shakes his head, “I can’t do this.”
Silence.
“I can’t... Just… leave me alone for a while, okay?”
Silence.
Roy turns, and starts to walk in the opposite direction.
“Hey wait,” Wally calls after him, as he looks up again. “Hold on,” he dashes
forward, walking alongside Roy as he continues to walk down the hallway.
Wally’s voice is hasty and rushed, “You know I didn’t mean that.”
But Roy’s not listening. He keeps moving, cold eyes staring ahead.
“You know I didn’t-”
He stops suddenly, as Roy’s pressing a firm hand against his chest. It’s almost
a threat, but Wally can’t fully comprehend what it means.
“Look,” Roy’s voice is deep and solemn, as he gradually starts to frown, his
expression turning more distressed with every word, “If you want to do the
right thing,” he pulls his hand back, “Let me leave.”
Wally stares after him, as he stays there in place, watching Roy make his way
down the hallway. When he nears the noisy stadium, he turns the corner.
And he’s gone, just like that.
Wally doesn’t know how-
He doesn’t know why, but-
He just-
He feels so-
Wally.
God, what has he done.
-
Artemis is on the other end of the phone. Wally can hear her voice, but… he
doesn’t. He’s not really listening. He lost track of the subject a few minutes
ago.
Because right now, he’s preoccupied.
He holds a photograph in his hands; a photograph he stole from Roy’s apartment,
several months ago. He hadn’t thought much of it. He just took it because he
liked it. He had intended to give it back later.
He hadn’t thought about why it had its own frame. He hadn’t thought about why
it was singled out, among the many others they had all taken together. Whenever
they went out with Dick, there were always plenty of photos like this; some
silly, some funny, some pleasant. But this one…
This one was simple. Nothing special. Wally had just liked the way he looked in
it, so he kept it.
But now, as he stared at it again, after a long while…
Roy’s staring at the camera, with a slight grin on his face, but his eyes have
that same irritated, borderline confused frown as always. Wally’s leaning into
the frame with a smile that’s almost ridiculous, eyes wide and hyper, with an
arm around Roy’s shoulders.
An arm around Roy’s shoulders.
He doesn’t remember that moment. He wishes he did. Because he’s never noticed
that detail before.
And he remembers where he found this picture, in a single frame, turned to face
the wall when he first noticed it.
Roy.
Do you…
Artemis prompts Wally for a response.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asks.
He tunes out the annoyed response he gets.
Do you love me?
The instant he asks that question, even to himself, he feels his entire body
start to collapse, like he doesn’t have the strength to stand anymore. He lays
back onto the bed. He feels his heart rate spiking up. He feels his blood rush.
Because-
Do you love me, Roy…
A hand rushing to his groin, as he quickly closes the phone. He’d deal with her
later. Because for now, there was just…
Burning need, and sudden lust. That voice inside his head, and the kiss they
shared, the feel of Roy’s tongue inside his mouth, and the way he tasted, and-
Roy.
He’s jerking off furiously, panting and moaning out loud as he works in a
frenzy to get the energy out. Gotta release it, gotta release it somehow. Gotta
calm down, gotta calm down-
He’s writhing against the bed, gasping in silence as he pants deep and heavy,
deep and heavy, as the bed shakes, the bed shakes -
Do you love me-
The taste of Roy’s mouth and the feel of his tongue and the warmth of his body
and-
Wally almost cries out when he comes, a cry that becomes a slow whine. He’s
trembling long after he’s done, frowning in disgust at his soiled pants,
sighing in exasperation, in desperation, and-
“Let me leave.”
I can’t.
-
Wally didn’t know what love was. Not entirely.
He’d always known what love was, under certain definitions. He loved his
friends. His loved his mentors at the League. He loved Dick. He loved Artemis.
But Roy…
He didn’t know how he loved Roy.
But he knew that he did. On some level. Somewhere inside his heart, there was a
place for him. Somewhere inside his soul, there always had been.
But now, he’s beginning to understand.
He enjoys their time together. He enjoys it whenever he can make him laugh,
however rare it is. He enjoys leaning on his shoulder when he’s tired. He
enjoys hugging him when he feels happy, and he likes the surprised looks he
gets whenever he says something especially affectionate.
He knows Roy stares at him a lot. He just assumed it was out of curiosity, or
general interest. He never thought it was…
The kind of feeling that makes you spontaneously kiss your friend. The kind of
feeling that makes you call his name-
And the more Wally considered that, the more he realized that he wanted more.
He wanted more of everything. Another kiss. Another embrace. He wanted to hear
his voice sound like that. He wanted to see him overwhelmed, desperate, moaning
beneath him. He wanted to ride him, he wanted to be pounded and fucked and-
Sometimes, he’d think of the way Roy looked, in the hours before that night.
How swollen his face was, how disoriented, how flushed. He remembered their
conversation, of Roy saying he’d never been able to tell his girl that he loved
her.
There never was a girl at all. Wally was the reason Roy left for those several
minutes. Wally was the reason he'd cried, when he was alone in the bathroom
that night. Wally was the reason why he never had a girl over, hadn’t been on
any real dates, hadn’t been able to commit himself to anyone-
Selfishly, Wally had stayed in his life. He’d always forced Roy to keep that
door open. He’d send him texts about coming over, even when he knew he probably
couldn’t. He wanted to believe he could, so he’d try. He wanted to believe he
had time for Roy, but he just didn’t. He hadn’t found it.
He felt horrible about that. He felt so awful. For every single time he’d
responded back and said he couldn’t make it. For every time he ditched him for
Artemis.
But Wally had been right about one thing.
He’d known he was in love, the moment it happened. He’d fallen in deep, so deep
he couldn’t find his way out. He was a blushing, giddy, excited mess with
bright eyes and a tendency to give lots of hugs and to wear a smile that never
faded. He felt ill in his stomach and tense in his chest. He was in love. Wally
was so in love he couldn’t adequately explain it, couldn’t completely
understand it. He was giddy and excited and thrilled at the world.
But he made a mistake.
When he told Roy, he gave the wrong answer.
Because it wasn’t her. It was never about her.
When Roy asked, “Who,” the answer was really simple. Very simple. Painfully
simple now, in retrospect.
“You.”
-
Wally adores the sound of Roy’s laugh. It has the power to either fill a room,
or to escape with barely any sound. It all depends on his mood, which seems to
change by the minute; but Roy is predictable. Roy responds to triggers, from
within himself and from others. He’s surprisingly easy to hurt; his pride is
fragile. But he’s able to endure any wound.
Wally likes the feel of Roy’s arms around him, but even more, he enjoys the
feel of his arms around Roy. He likes how warm he is; how he relaxes in his
embrace and lets his guard down. He likes the feel of the stress leaving his
shoulders, and the gentle way that he nuzzles against him, and the feel of his
slow breathing against his neck.
Wally likes the texture of Roy’s hair. He appreciates how soft it is between
his fingers. He likes the smoothness of his shoulders, and he likes to trace
the small scars scattered across his back. He doesn’t appreciate them being
there—he would have never willed them into existence—but he enjoys the stories
Roy tells, the fact that Roy remembers where every single one came from.
Some of the stories make him laugh. Some of them make him unbearably sad. Some
of them make him wish he could erase that moment from Roy’s history.
He’s often startled by his newfound protectiveness over Roy; that is, he’s
startled because it’s always been there, in some shape or form. He didn’t know
what it was called then, but there was never a time, there was never a year,
there was never a day when he didn’t wonder how he was, how he felt, where he
was. He wants to protect him from every danger and hazard in the world. He
wants to kiss him until he can’t remember those scars anymore. He wants to hold
him until he no longer feels alone. He wants to find him on that distant island
deep inside his mind; he wants to rescue him and bring him back to
civilization. He wants to bring him back to life.
Wally adores the feel of Roy’s kisses, as they trail across his chest. He
enjoys the way he holds his hands, delicately and carefully like they’re
something precious. He likes the way Roy looks at him, like he’s ready to cry
at any second, even if he knows Roy would never allow himself to do that in
front of him.
He doesn’t cry; he wouldn’t. But he does give a small smile, the exact kind
Wally loves the most, slight and genuine. A smile like the one in that photo,
the kind of hidden, almost obscured smile that sneaks onto his face when he’s
not self-conscious enough to hold it back.
Wally winds an arm around his shoulders. Roy pulls him closer.
Wally’s rocking gently in his lap, suppressing a moan when they kiss.
He likes the soft feel of his hair, between his fingers. He likes the warmth of
his body, as it spreads through him. He likes the taste of Roy’s mouth, the
feel of his hands as they firmly press against his hips. He likes the sounds
Roy makes, those deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Wally’s rocking gently in his lap, as he winds his arms around his lover, with
a small whine as he feels Roy pushing deeper inside him.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He feels Roy’s chest rise and fall with each one.
And when they kiss one more time, Wally’s shuddering, gasping into his mouth as
Roy holds him tightly, so tight, so tight, with those deep breaths, deep
breaths, as his eyes are closing-
Wally loves the look of his face, when he’s flushed with pleasure. He loves the
way his lips part; and the way his eyes fall still. When Roy’s not frowning or
seeming irritated or perplexed as usual, he’s so beautiful. So beautiful; with
a masculine jawline and a slender and tall nose and perfectly spaced, deep-set
eyes.
Roy doesn’t have any freckles on his face. His eyes are blue. His hair is
almost a soft orange and his skin is more fair than his would ever be. His body
is larger. His arms are stronger. His voice is lower and his laugh has the
power to fill a room.
Roy should laugh more often, but Wally’s not going to complain about it. He can
tolerate Roy’s seriousness. He can accept Roy’s stubbornness. And he’s come to
understand that when Roy raises a wall to protect himself, the only logical
course of action is to break it down.
Sometimes he protests. Sometimes he complains. Sometimes he disguises the
problem. But if Wally can hold him enough, kiss him enough, soothe him enough
for the ache to be just a little more bearable, Roy is quiet, and vulnerable in
his arms.
Wally hopes, hope against hope, that Roy knows he would never take advantage of
his trust. Wally would never hurt him. The only thing that Wally has to give is
love.
Love, love;
He’s sighing pleasantly, his hands pressing down into Roy’s shoulders to steady
himself as he comes.
Love;
And some minutes later, after minutes of rocking, steady thrusting and those
hands roaming across his body;
Roy’s kissing his face up until the moment he reaches his limit, and when he
comes, he closes his eyes and holds, holds onto Wally almost desperately, like
he’s going to leave. But when he relaxes and lets go, Wally is still there.
Wally is still there, returning a kiss to his face, a gentle kiss just beneath
his eyes.
Roy didn’t know really what it felt like, to be loved before.
But now, he’s starting to understand.
It wasn’t just about his appreciation for the color red anymore. Or the fact
that Wally almost cried, when Roy told him the story.
It was about so much more than that.
The smile on Wally’s face, as he closes his eyes and leans against his
shoulder.
It’s about so much more.
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