Daddy Daddy (If You Could Only See)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/33359398.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red
Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Batman (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics)
Relationship: Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Character: Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Dick Grayson,
Bruce Wayne
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Paparazzi, Fake/Pretend Relationship,
Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, JayRoy Week
Language: English
Collections: Double Red Week
Stats: Published: 2021-08-19 Words: 11692

Daddy Daddy (If You Could Only See)

by poisonivory

Summary

Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen are two of the wealthiest and most famous men in the
country - and oh yeah, they hate each other. Their sons, Jason Todd and Roy Harper, are
the black sheep of their respective families and tabloid darlings. But when Roy suggests
they pretend to date to stir up the paparazzi and piss off their dads, he doesn't expect
himself to start falling for Jason for real.

Notes

For JayRoy Week 2021 Day Four - Living In Denial: And They Were Roommates | Fake
Dating | Only One Bed

Title is from "Papa Don't Preach" by Madonna because I think I'm funny.

See the end of the work for more notes

Roy eased a finger inside his collar. It shouldn’t have been uncomfortable—it was made of the
finest silk money could buy, and he’d unbuttoned it to below his collarbone—but it still felt like it
was choking him.

He never should have told Ollie yes.

But things were finally good again between the two of them, and Ollie had been trying so hard. So
when he’d asked Roy to fly across the country with him and Dinah to attend a benefit in Gotham,
Roy had agreed in a moment of filial weakness.

It was only after promising to be there that he remembered that he fucking hated benefits, galas,
and all the rest of that shit. And after spending years hiding away from this sort of thing, the
vultures would be out for blood—both the paps outside the door and the far more vicious
bluebloods inside it.

But he kept his promises these days.

And so here he was at the Wayne Foundation’s annual benefit dinner in a wine-red suit and black
silk shirt—a violent pop of color amidst a sea of black tie, because he refused to hide. If people
wanted to gawk at Oliver Queen’s junkie son, let them.

He’d stuck close to Ollie and Dinah for the first five minutes. That was all it had taken for
Malcolm Merlyn to slither over to them with a vicious smile on his face. Roy hadn’t seen him in
nearly a decade, and he hadn’t missed him.

“Oliver, my boy, glad to see I’m not the only one who made the trip out east for this,” he said. “I
was afraid the plane fare would increase your precious carbon footprint too much.”

“I flew commercial,” Ollie said, tight-lipped. He’d hated Merlyn since long before Roy came into
the picture. The first time Roy had met Malcolm, at a gala when he was eleven where Malcolm
referred to him only as “the little reservation orphan,” he’d understood why.

Malcolm turned to Dinah. “And you brought the lovely Miss Lance. It is still Miss, isn’t it?
Oliver’s always been terrible at committing himself.”

She smiled, all fang. “It’s Ms., actually.”

Roy braced himself for his turn. Sure enough, Malcolm aimed that oily smile at him now, though
he directed his comments toward Ollie. “I hear your little charity case doesn’t have any trouble
committing himself, though. Twice now, isn’t it?”

Roy opened his mouth to respond, but Ollie was already moving to stand in front of him. “You’ve
known me since I was a kid, Malcolm. So I know you know that I’m speaking the god’s honest
truth when I tell you that charity gala or not, I will punch your goddamn face in if you say one
more word to or about my son.”

Malcolm’s smile only got wider. “How charmingly paternal of you, Oliver. I suppose some
leopards can change their spots.” He met Roy’s eyes, pure mockery in his gaze. “Enjoy your
evening.”

“You okay, fella?” Ollie asked after Malcolm oiled off.

“Fine,” Roy gritted out, and bit back what he really wanted to say, which was: Why couldn’t you
have called me your son when I needed you to?

He made himself scarce after that.

After putting some distance between himself and Ollie, he’d scanned the ballroom for Dick. The
chance to see his oldest friend had been one of the very few saving graces of coming all the way
out here. Dick had been a shoulder to lean on—and sometimes cry on—when Roy was getting
sober, but then he’d gotten caught up in all that business with his brother, and Roy hadn’t wanted
to add to his burden. It had been too long since they’d hung out—and when he caught a glimpse of
Dick way on the other side of the ballroom, surrounded by people, he knew it would be a bit
longer still. Well, maybe they could catch up over the next couple of days, before Roy flew back
home.

The Wayne brother. Heh. If there was one person the vultures were more likely to be all over
tonight than Roy…

A bowtied caterer offered Roy a tray of champagne flutes, and he waved them away with a polite
smile. As the caterer moved off, Roy looked up to see Ollie watching him, a worried line between
his brows. He met Roy’s eyes and gave him a thumbs up.

Roy suddenly had the urge to call the caterer over and slam back a couple of glasses, just to see the
look on Ollie’s face. He resisted it.

It was the self-destructive instinct in him, he supposed. Now that Ollie was finally present in his
life, finally showing that he cared, Roy couldn’t shake the temptation to break things again.

“He loves me. I know he loves me,” he’d told Waylon, his sponsor. “But it’s like every time he
hovers, I want to ask where all that helicopter parenting was when I needed it. Like now that I
know I have a little power here, all I want to do with it is punish him.”

“I get that,” Waylon had said. “And look, I don’t give a shit about Oliver Queen, you can do
whatever the fuck you want to him. Just make sure you’re not punishing yourself worse when you
do.”

Getting publicly wasted was a prime example of punishing himself worse. Roy ignored Ollie’s
thumbs up and drifted over to the windows. The gala was being held in the Gotham Historical
Society, a converted mansion in the toniest part of town, and the view from here had to be
spectacular.

There was one other person at the windows already, a man in exactingly traditional black tie. Roy
admired his tailor’s work as he approached. He himself was big enough and broad enough in the
shoulder that suits could sometimes look like refrigerator boxes on him, and this guy was even
bigger, easily two inches taller than Roy and solid all the way down. But the elegant cut of his suit
made him look more like a tall drink of water than the bruiser he could so easily have come off as.

He turned at the sound of Roy’s approach. His dark hair hung in heavy curls across his forehead,
slightly rumpled. There was a flattened crook to the bridge of his nose that suggested it had been
broken at least once, and a scar running from his hairline, down over one high cheekbone, to tug at
the corner of a full, red mouth.

But it was his eyes that arrested Roy. Not quite blue or green—or were they gray?—but light and
clear under long, sooty lashes and scowling brows. Heart-stopping eyes.

Roy had been right. The view from here was spectacular.

“Hi,” he said, letting his body language go relaxed and easy. Inviting. “Are you contemplating
escape too?”

The other man raised an eyebrow. “Something like that,” he said. “Not your kind of party either?”

Roy snorted. “Definitely not.” He held out a hand. “I’m Roy.”

Something like amusement hovered around that plush mouth. “I know.”

Roy’s stomach dropped. Right. Of course he knew. After all, everyone knew Oliver Queen, the
philanthropist who’d dropped off of the Forbes Billionaires list because he’d given away so much
to charity; whose company led the way in reducing their carbon emissions; who’d done three non-
consecutive terms as Star City’s mayor, beloved and reviled by turns.

And everyone knew about his adoptive son, who’d spent a whirlwind couple of years as a tabloid
darling before his very public arrest for heroin possession. Ollie’s lawyers and the fact that Roy
was still underage at the time had kept him out of jail, but nothing could keep him out of the press.
Of course Hottie McDangerous over here knew who Roy was.

Roy’s reaction must have shown on his face, because the trace of amusement vanished. “No, I
mean...we’ve met,” the other man said. “Years ago. I’m Jason Todd. Uh, Todd-Wayne.”

Roy’s eyes widened. “No shit.”

Roy had been friends with Dick Grayson-Wayne since Ollie had first started dragging him to these
stupid things when he was twelve. Dick had been Roy’s age, mutually dragged by his adoptive
father Bruce, and no more interested in eating stuffed mushroom caps and listening to a string
quartet than Roy was. They’d bonded in their shared boredom and repeated attempts to flee, and
had remained friends ever since.

Bruce had adopted a second son when Dick and Roy were seventeen. Twelve-year-old Jason Todd-
Wayne was recently orphaned, previously homeless, and as wary as a feral cat. He was also
something like seventy pounds soaking wet—about as far a cry from the stunning specimen of
manhood in front of Roy right now as it was possible to be. He’d tagged along after Dick and Roy
whenever Roy visited—which wasn’t that often, because Roy’s first stint in rehab had happened
soon after. And by the time he was up for visiting again, Jason was gone. As far as Roy knew, he
rarely appeared in public these days, and never at society events.

Roy gave him an admiring once-over. “Boy, Alfred has been feeding you well.”

Jason’s cheeks went a little pink. Oh, he was cute. “Yeah, it was a hell of a growth spurt,” he said.
“It’s, uh, it’s good to see you.”

Roy rolled his eyes at the delicate tone. “Look, let’s make a deal, okay? I don’t ask where you
were all those years or what happened to you, and you don’t dance around the rehab thing. Deal?”

Jason’s eyes widened slightly; then he snorted. “Sounds like you’re as sick of people not asking
questions as I am of people asking them.”

“Oh, they still ask them, they just try to pretend they aren’t,” Roy said. “Just fucking say it, you
know?” He switched to a cloying tone. “What’s heroin withdrawal like? Are you ashamed of being
a disgrace to the Queen name? Do you really think that band you were in was any good? The
answer to that last one is yes, by the way,” he said, switching back to his normal voice and pointing
a finger at Jason. “We fucking rocked.”

“I know. I, uh, had your album,” Jason said, shifting his weight.

“So it was you!” Roy said. “You were our single sale! Thanks for that, man.”

Jason laughed a little. He started to say something, but then his gaze went hard, aimed somewhere
over Roy’s left shoulder.

Roy turned to see Bruce Wayne looking thunderously at them. “Yikes,” he said. “I know he never
liked me, but that’s a bit much.”
“It’s not just you,” Jason muttered, still glaring.

“Yeah, I know,” Roy said. “He hates Ollie, too.”

Acting on instinct, he looked in the opposite direction—and there was Ollie, watching them with
an equally stormy expression. And their fathers weren’t even the only ones staring. Roy caught
more than a few society biddies ogling them and leaning in to whisper to each other. He wasn’t
sure if they were gawking at him or Jason or both of them, but either way he could do without it.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, and glanced back at Jason. “You’re a local. You know anywhere in this
mausoleum we can go where we aren’t the evening’s entertainment?”

Jason met his eyes, and for a second Roy caught a hint of the smile he’d seen before Bruce had
quashed it. “I might know a place.”

Jason’s “place” was the fucking roof, which Roy would have been alarmed by if he hadn’t spent
his younger years doing far more reckless shit. They sat side by side on a ledge while Jason
smoked a cigarette, listening to the sounds of the city.

“God, I fucking hate these things,” Roy said. “I should never have let Ollie talk me into coming.”

“Why did you?” Jason asked. Roy glanced at him and he shrugged. “Hey, you told me not to dance
around my questions.”

Roy gave him a wry smile, then let it fade. “I guess I felt like I owed him,” he said. He paused. “I,
uh, relapsed last year.”

He waited for the look of disapproval—or worse, disappointment—on Jason’s face, but Jason’s
expression didn’t change. “That sucks,” was all he said.

Something about his matter-of-fact reaction eased something tight and locked up in Roy’s chest.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it did. Anyway, I went back to rehab...but why
am I telling you this? It was in TMZ and everything, everyone knows.”

“I don’t read that shit.” Jason flicked the ash off of his cigarette. “I see enough lies about myself
without going looking for them.”

“Makes sense.” Roy shrugged again. “Anyway, Ollie...he was really good this time, you know?
Paid for everything, came to visit me a lot. There was a lot of manly crying. And I know I should
be grateful. I am grateful.”

He trailed off. “But,” Jason supplied.

“But,” Roy agreed. “Part of me feels like if he’d been there for me like this when I was a kid, I
wouldn’t have started using in the first place. And…”

He stared at the toes of his new, ridiculously expensive Italian leather shoes. Ollie had bought
them, of course. One was already scuffed.

He’d never said this to anyone. He couldn’t say it to Dinah, not about Ollie, and he was so tired of
crying on Dick and Donna’s shoulders. But Jason didn’t give a shit about him, and somehow that
made it easier.
“I can’t help wondering how much of the concern is about me, and how much is about what I do
fucking up his public image,” he confessed.

Jason tilted his head back and blew out a stream of smoke. “Fuck, that’s a mood,” he said. “At
least yours doesn’t collect photogenic orphans. Not so photogenic anymore, I guess,” he amended,
gesturing toward his scar with the lit cigarette. “Trust me, being a disgrace to the family name is
even worse when you’ve got two perfect brothers. Not to mention the little prince.”

Right. Dick had two more younger brothers now, Tim and Damian, the latter Bruce’s bio kid. That
had been a scandal on its own, which made the mystery surrounding Jason even more striking for
overshadowing it.

Roy was suddenly intensely curious about what had happened to Jason. He knew he’d run away
from home when he was fifteen; that there had been a manhunt; that he’d been presumed dead. He
knew there’d been a homicide trial, with all the records sealed thanks to Bruce throwing his weight
around. He knew there’d been a dramatic custody battle over Damian, and Jason had somehow
played a part in that too. But Dick had been closemouthed about the details, and Roy had promised
Jason he wouldn’t ask.

Instead, he dug his phone out of his pocket and opened the camera. “Hey, smile.”

Jason didn’t smile, but the startled look Roy managed to capture was nearly as good. “What the
fuck?”

Roy showed him the picture. The scar was plainly visible in it. As far as Roy was concerned, it did
nothing to diminish Jason’s smoldering attractiveness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
he said. “You seem plenty photogenic to me.”

It was too dark on the roof to tell if Jason was blushing again, but from the way he ducked his
head, Roy suspected he was.

“Whatever,” Jason said, waving the compliment away like it was his cigarette smoke. “You said
you’d answer questions about anything, right? Even the private stuff?”

“I said you could ask…” Roy said warily, bracing himself.

“Right,” Jason said. “So when is Great Frog releasing another album?”

Roy blinked at him. Then he laughed louder and harder than he had in as long as he could
remember.

Talking to Jason was easy, it turned out. His life had been different than Roy’s, even leaving aside
the parts he didn’t talk about, but he understood where Roy came from: adopted by a billionaire,
thrust onto a public stage with a ravenously hungry audience as a child. Falling. Living with his
father’s disappointment.

“I should probably be trying harder to make peace with him,” Jason said. The cigarette was long
since gone, and he was only lit by the neon of the city and a few faint stars. “Patching things up
with Dick. Getting to know the replacement. Damian’s okay, me and the gremlin get each other.
But it’s like…” He shook his head.

“Like acting like everything’s okay now feels like pretending the parts that weren’t okay didn’t
happen?” Roy suggested.

“Exactly. Like, I fucked up, but he fucked up too.” Jason shook his head. “They made me do all
this court-mandated therapy and shit, and I guess it helped, but I’m still pissed at Bruce. And it
makes me want to piss him off too, but I don’t actually want to do the things that would piss him
off, you know?”

Boy, did Roy ever. “If it helps, he’d probably be pissed just because we’re hanging out,” he said.
“He never liked that Dick was friends with me. And he and Ollie can’t stand each other.”

Jason laughed. “I know. I think they’ve hated each other since prep school. I take it Queen
wouldn’t be happy about this either?” He waved a hand between the two of them.

“Definitely not,” Roy said. “Too bad there aren’t any paps here to capture the moment. Wait, hang
on.” He dug his phone out again and took a selfie of the two of them. The flash did neither of them
any favors and Jason looked startled and a bit annoyed, but Roy didn’t delete it.

“If you sell that to TMZ I’ll kick your ass,” Jason said.

“Not sure even the two of us together is enough to make it profitable,” Roy said. “Not juicy
enough. We’d either have to be snorting coke or fucking.” He blinked. “Holy shit I just had an
idea.”

“Why do I feel like I should be worried about this idea?” Jason asked.

“What if we were fucking?” Roy suggested.

He’d never actually seen someone bluescreen before. “What.”

“No, I mean, not actually,” Roy amended hastily and not without a twinge of regret. “What if the
tabloids thought we were a thing? Ollie would blow a fucking gasket.”

He watched Jason imagine it, watched the slow smile creep over his face. “Bruce would blow
two.”

Roy grinned. “But Ollie wouldn’t be able to say shit, because he’s supportive now.”

“Oh, Bruce is still gonna say shit,” Jason said. “Luckily, I don’t listen to him anymore.”

Roy didn’t miss Jason’s verb tense changing from the conditional to the future. “So we’re doing
this, then? Leaking the fact of our torrid romance to the tabloids?”

Jason snorted at the phrase “torrid romance.” “How would it work?” he asked. “I don’t actually
want to call them up and feed them a story, no matter how much it would piss Bruce off. That’s
being a little too helpful to the vultures.”

“No, definitely not,” Roy agreed. He rubbed his chin, thinking. “Being photographed together is
probably enough. There’s paps outside—they’d definitely catch us if we left together. And maybe
I’ll dust off my Instagram.” Jason wrinkled his nose. “I promise not to post the photo I just took,
magnificent as it is. Just, like, you from the back looking at a sunset or something with some
cryptic shit in the caption. They’ll go nuts.”

“Fine, but if you give us a hashtag that mashes our names together, I’m fake breaking up with
you,” Jason said.

“Aw, come on, you don’t want to be ‘hashtag joy?’” Roy asked, and laughed out loud at the
unimpressed expression on Jason’s face. “Fine. You get veto power over all hashtags.”
“Great. I veto them all.”

“Now, now, let’s not start our fake relationship by fighting. We have bigger fish to fry.” Roy held
out a hand. “Here’s to pissing off our dads.”

Jason accepted the handshake. His palm was broad and warm and surprisingly callused for the son
of a billionaire. Roy didn’t want to let go. “Here’s to fake us.”

Oliver’s assistant had booked them a two-bedroom suite in Gotham’s most upscale hotel for the
three nights they’d be in Gotham. Roy was the first one awake the morning after the benefit, which
wasn’t a surprise. He’d found that getting up early to work out helped settle him, and besides, he
had no hangover to sleep off, unlike Ollie. For as much as Ollie watched Roy like a hawk
whenever there was alcohol in the room, he could go pretty hard himself when he felt like it. I
learned from watching you, Dad, Roy had thought sarcastically more than once while watching
Ollie work his way through the Scotch bottle at a party like it was at risk of going bad.

Roy was showered and enjoying his share of the generous breakfast spread he’d ordered from
room service when Dinah joined him, and a half hour or so later, a grumpy, bleary-eyed Ollie.
They sat in comfortable silence, scrolling through their phones while they ate. And Roy waited.

He knew the moment had come when Ollie startled so hard coffee slopped over the rim of his cup
and down his arm. “Everything okay, Ollie?” he asked mildly.

“You left the benefit early last night,” Ollie said.

“I told you I was coming back here,” Roy agreed.

“You didn’t say you were bringing company,” Ollie said, holding his phone up so Roy could see it.
It showed two photos, stacked on top of each other. The first was Roy and Jason leaving the
benefit together; the second was them arriving at Roy’s hotel. Roy had undone a few more buttons
on his shirt while they were in the limo and tousled his own hair. The cumulative effect was
gloriously suggestive, especially since Roy knew there were photos of Jason leaving the hotel on
his own a couple of hours later. No one needed to know they’d spent those hours watching a
Chopped marathon.

Dinah made a questioning noise and Ollie passed her the phone and picked up a napkin to mop the
spilled coffee off of his other hand. Roy shrugged.

“We were safe, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” he said.

“Oh boy,” Dinah said, and retreated behind her coffee cup. Smart woman.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Ollie said. “That’s one of Bruce Wayne’s kids, isn’t it? The fucked-up one?”

Roy popped a grape into his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “We match.”

“Oh come on, you know that’s not what I meant,” Ollie said. “He’s a Wayne!”

“So?”

“So his dad’s an asshole!” Ollie said. “Not to mention we’re not talking about partying too hard
here. You know what he was mixed up in.”
“No, actually I don’t know, and neither do you,” Roy said. “The court records were sealed, and it’s
not like you and Bruce Wayne call each other up for parenting advice. I’ve had plenty of people
assuming the worst of me. I’m not gonna do it to him.”

“Fine. Great,” Ollie snapped. “But do you really think he’s a good choice for a one night stand?”

Roy couldn’t have asked for a better setup. “Who said anything about a one night stand?” he asked.
“I like him. I’m seeing him again today.”

“What?”

Dinah elbowed Ollie. “Oliver. Enough. You’ve made your point.”

“But—!”

“Roy likes him,” she said. “That being the case, I don’t see how it matters who his father is.”

And for the first time, Roy felt a little shitty about what he was doing.

He hadn’t actually lied at any point. He did like Jason. He was seeing him again today, ideally
somewhere they’d be photographed. And considering the most they’d touched last night had been
their hands brushing when Roy had handed Jason a Zesti from the minibar, they’d been perfectly
safe.

But the reminder that his family did actually want him to be happy took a little bit of the fun out of
tricking them. He wasn’t mad at Dinah, after all.

Ollie was visibly gritting his teeth, but he relented. What else could he do? “You’re right,” he told
Dinah, then turned to Roy. “Just...be careful, kiddo, would you? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

That shouldn’t be a problem, Roy thought. You’re good at looking away.

Instead, he pasted on a bright smile and ate another grape. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t.”

He was in the back of a towncar on his way to meet Jason for lunch when his phone rang. He
looked down at the screen and swore quietly. Just because he’d been expecting Dick to call didn’t
mean he hadn’t been dreading it.

He swiped to answer. “Hey, buddy. Sorry I missed you at the thing last night—”

“Pretending to date my brother, Roy? Really?”

Roy glanced at the driver, glad he hadn’t put the phone on speaker—not that he thought that the
real story was quite interesting enough to be sold to the tabloids by an “anonymous source,” but
he’d had overheard conversations show up in print before. “It’s a harmless prank.”

He was glad he’d put his foot down with Jason about telling Dick the truth. Fooling Ollie was one
thing, and there was no way to do that without Dinah ending up as collateral damage, but he
wouldn’t lie to Dick. Not about this. Jason had begrudgingly agreed to fill Dick in on the condition
that Roy be the one to talk him into playing along.

Dick snorted. “Harmless. Right.”

Roy’s most charming smile was wasted on the back of the passenger seat, but maybe it came
through in his voice. “Is this where you tell me not to hurt your baby brother, or else?”

“Come on. I know you wouldn’t do that. Not on purpose, anyway,” Dick said, making Roy blink,
before continuing. “It’s just that his relationship with Bruce is bad enough. I don’t see how this is
going to help.”

“Sometimes it’s not about making things better,” Roy said. “Sometimes it’s just about getting
through it.”

“That’s pretty defeatist.”

Oh great, now Dick sounded concerned. “Look, it’s not helpful for me to be angry every time I talk
to Ollie, either,” Roy pointed out. “Having something to laugh about instead will help me get over
it. It might be the same for Jason and Bruce. And if not...like I said. Harmless.”

“Hm.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Bruce? No,” Dick sighed. “I promised Jason I wouldn’t. Just...don’t let it go on too long, okay?
The longer the lie, the worse it’ll be when it comes out. And Jason…”

“What about Jason?” Roy asked as the car turned onto the block where he was supposed to meet
Jason. There was a man standing outside of the restaurant in a leather jacket, facing away, who had
to be him, with shoulders like that.

“Just...I know he talks a big game, but he’s more sensitive than he likes to let on. And the past few
years have been really hard,” Dick said. “Be careful with him, okay? He doesn’t need someone else
letting him down.”

The car pulled to a stop and Jason—it was Jason—turned around. He looked even better by day
than he had last night, the sunlight picking out reddish tones in his hair. Roy barely heard what
Dick was saying.

“Yep, gotcha. I’ll be careful,” he said, waving his thanks to the driver and opening the door. “Gotta
go, Dick!”

Jason wrinkled his nose, holding the door the rest of the way open for Roy. “And what did my dear
brother have to say?”

Roy tried the charming smile again, and hoped he wasn’t imagining the faint pink that rose to
Jason’s cheeks.

“He told us to have fun,” he said, stretching the truth harmlessly. “And believe me, I fully intend
to.”

“We may have made a tactical error,” Jason said when Roy answered the phone a week later.

Roy scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to get his brain up to speed. The ringing phone had
woken him out of a sound sleep. “We have?”

“Are you okay? You sound—shit, did I wake you?”

Roy couldn’t help laughing, switching the phone to speaker so that he could check the time. “Yeah,
dude, it’s only eight here.”

“I’ve been up since seven.”

“Another hurdle in our relationship.”

“That’s what I called about. Our ‘relationship,’” Jason said. The scare quotes were obvious.

Roy ran a hand through his hair and propped himself up a little bit. “What’s wrong? Is it not
working on your end?”

“Oh, it’s working. Bruce has been walking around looking like someone pissed in his corn flakes.”
Jason sounded pleased about that. “But this whole thing kind of relies on us getting photographed
together, and we live on opposite coasts.”

“Ah. That is a problem.” One Roy probably should have thought about that last week, when he and
Jason had originally started this, but he’d been focusing on the immediate gratification of annoying
Ollie, and not anything long-term. “I guess we could let it die a natural death? Tell Ollie and Bruce
the truth?”

“We could do that,” Jason said. “Or I could come visit you. Me showing up in Star City ought to
be good for a few days in the headlines.”

Roy blinked. Flying across the country for some staged photos did feel a bit like taking the joke
too far. After all, they’d have to come clean eventually, and the more elaborate the deception had
been, the worse the fallout would be.

On the other hand, watching Oliver Queen—widely known as the Loudest Man in Politics and
proud of it—bite his lip because he knew his objections to Roy’s ersatz relationship were
fundamentally petty had been extremely entertaining.

Or maybe Roy just wanted to see Jason again.

“Hey, turn on Facetime,” he said, hitting the button for it on his own phone and wiggling until the
camera showed him looking elegantly sprawled and not hopelessly slumped. On second thought,
he put his free hand behind his head, a position that had the benefit of making his bicep pop. Hey,
he was allowed to be vain occasionally.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Why?”

“Because I like talking to faces. Come on, just do it.”

Another pause, this time long enough that Roy thought Jason was going to refuse, but then he
appeared on screen. He was flushed and sweaty in a tank top with the sides cut out, a towel slung
over his shoulders and his hair curling damply across his forehead. Roy’s mouth went dry.

“Sorry. Just finished a workout,” Jason said, then visibly faltered. “Oh, I really did wake you up.
Uh...sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roy said, wondering if he should have put on a shirt. Well, at least the
phone didn’t show that he wasn’t wearing anything below the waist either. “So you want to come
to Star City?”

Jason shrugged, wiped at a bead of sweat on his temple with the back of his free hand. “I figured
it’d be good fuel for the fire. But I don’t have to if it’s an inconvenience—”
“Nonono,” Roy said, too quickly. “It’s fine. I’ll show you the sights. We can get you photographed
outside of the Q-Core building, Bruce’ll love that.”

Jason grinned, a flash of teeth. “I told him I was thinking about switching to a Q-Phone yesterday.
He nearly lost his shit.”

Roy laughed. “Well, let me know if you’re serious about that. I might know a guy.”

“Oh, really?”

“Hey, I’m connected in this town. I can get you extra Q-Buds and everything.” Was this flirting? It
felt like flirting, but maybe it was just fake flirting to go with the fake dating.

Jason raised his eyebrows. “You sure know how to sweeten the pot.”

Roy let his smile go lazy. “Jaybird, you have no idea.”

“Uh.” Jason coughed, suddenly, and glanced off-camera. “I should, uh, probably go shower. But
I’ll text you my flight details, okay?”

Roy put his arm down. “Sure, yeah. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Jason hesitated, like he was going to say something else, then gave a curt wave. “See
you soon, Roy.”

The call disconnected, but Roy lay there staring at his blank phone for a few long minutes.

He might be in trouble.

“Nice place,” Jason said, looking around Roy’s apartment.

Roy shrugged, hands shoved into his pockets. “It’s Ollie’s, technically,” he said, feeling suddenly
embarrassed. Sure, they all called the bougie loft in downtown Star City “Roy’s apartment,” but
Ollie owned the property.

Not that Roy had much of a choice—he wasn’t working right now, living off of what was left of
his trust fund while he tried to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. Ollie had made it clear
that any position Roy wanted in R&D at Q-Core was his for the asking, but nepotism-ing his way
into gainful employment felt shitty. Of course, living on Ollie’s dime also felt shitty. A lot of his
life felt shitty right now.

What wasn’t shitty was the look of understanding Jason sent him as he wheeled his suitcase to a
stop. “Hey, no judgment,” he said. “I still live at the manor.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen the roach motel Dick lived in his first year in Bludhaven, so you’re probably
making the right call there,” Roy said, which earned him a sidelong smile and Jason’s quiet laugh.

Once that first awkward hurdle was past, settling Jason into one of his guest bedrooms didn’t feel
quite so strange, even though they barely knew each other. Jason had offered to stay in a hotel,
which probably would have been easier in some ways, but less convincing than others—who flew
across the country to see their new boyfriend and then didn’t stay with him?

Roy’s building was ideal for their purposes: security was pretty good about keeping the paparazzi
away from the private entrances, like the back door and the parking garage, but there were usually
a couple of photographers stationed outside of the front lobby, and Roy’s home address seemed to
be public knowledge among Star City’s vultures.

And so he spent the next few days parading Jason through that lobby to places they’d get
photographed even more: Courtside seats at a Star City Thunder game. A romantic dinner for two
at the Observatory, where Roy would have been appalled by the meager servings of mostly
tasteless artisanal foam if he hadn’t been so distracted by Jason’s eyes in the candlelight. Repeated
coffee runs to Star’s snooty homegrown chain, Stellar Grounds, for which he borrowed Jason’s
favorite red hoodie solely for verisimilitude and definitely not because he liked the way it smelled.
For the first of those he slipped his hand into Jason’s when they got out of the car, and the
surprised look on Jason’s face was so delicious that Roy did it every time after.

He knew Ollie was seeing the pictures of the two of them together. Like Roy, Ollie couldn’t ever
stop himself from poking a bruise. But as much fun as it was to imagine Ollie—and probably
Bruce—steaming over Roy and Jason holding hands at Stellar Grounds yet again, the performance
was quickly becoming exhausting.

No, Roy liked Jason much better when it was just the two of them in Roy’s apartment, when Jason
dropped the scowl he showed to the outside world; nursing a cup of coffee in the morning, his eyes
heavy-lidded and dreamy, or curled up on Roy’s couch with a book. Roy liked it so much that he
revised his previous concern that he might be in trouble. He was definitely in trouble.

The day before Jason was set to fly back to Gotham, they were eating breakfast when Jason’s
phone dinged with an incoming text. He looked down at it and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Roy asked.

“Bruce is being passive aggressive.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

Roy nudged Jason’s ankle under the table with his bare toes. Jason looked startled. He always
looked startled when Roy touched him—startled, but never displeased.

“You want to be passive aggressive back?” Roy asked. “We could go to a club or something
tonight.” He really didn’t want to go to a club, but he’d do it for Jason.

“We probably should,” Jason said, but then he sighed. “I dunno. Pissing Bruce off is one thing, but
are you also getting a little tired of…”

“The dog and pony show?” Roy suggested.

“Exactly,” Jason agreed, smiling faintly. “Wait, which one am I?”

“Oh, the pony, definitely.” Roy rubbed the back of his neck. “We could go hiking?”

The flat look Jason gave him reminded him that the other man had spent his entire youth in a city
—and not one with a massive national park right up the mountain. “Hiking.”

“Yeah. Ollie and I used to go a lot when I was a kid, and I still do it now. Helps me clear my head.”

Roy felt oddly nervous, especially since Jason continued to look skeptical. It wasn’t that Roy
didn’t like the city—he was a people person who loved to party, of course he liked the city. But
there was something in his soul that was only soothed by the forest—or the desert, when he could
get back home—and the idea of Jason rejecting it left him raw and anxious.

“We don’t have to…” he started to say, but Jason shrugged.

“Sure, why not?” he said. “I guess there’s worse ways to go than getting eaten by a bear or
mosquitoes or whatever.”

Roy grinned wide to hide his relief. “Don’t worry, you delicate city flower. I’ll protect you.”

Jason gave him the finger. Roy laughed out loud and got up to go find something Jason could wear
that wouldn’t get destroyed in the woods.

“Roy,” Jason said. “You know you can be honest with me, right?”

Roy stopped and turned to look at the trail behind him. Jason was lagging a couple yards back,
red-faced and breathing hard. He’d taken off his shirt a little while back and Roy could see that the
flush of exertion went down his neck to spill over his chest, which gleamed with sweat.

Yeah, there was a reason Roy had put himself in the front when the shirt came off. Staring at all of
Jason’s ten thousand rippling muscles for too long would have him saying something he shouldn’t.

“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning on a hiking pole. They’d stopped at Ollie’s so they could
borrow another pair for Jason. Ollie had glared daggers but hadn’t been able to justify saying no.
He probably should have, though, for Jason’s sake, since Jason mostly seemed to be hitting himself
in the ankles with them.

Jason dragged his forearm, corded with muscle, across his sweaty forehead. Jesus. “If you killed
someone, I’ll help you hide the body,” he said. “We don’t have to walk all the way to the Canadian
border to evade the law.”

Roy laughed. “We’ve gone, like, two miles north, tops. It just feels like more because it’s uphill.”

Jason stared at him. “I’m fake breaking up with you, and I want my fake stuff back.”

“Come on.” Roy started to back up, crooking a finger at Jason to coax him to follow. “It’s just a
few more minutes to the place I want to show you, and then I’ll let you have a protein bar.”

“I’ll tell you what you can do with your protein bar,” Jason muttered, but he followed Roy up the
mountain.

Less than five minutes later, the trail took a sharp curve around a sudden, unexpected lake. The
mountain rose up steep and rocky on the opposite side, a waterfall sluicing down its bare face to
feed the lake. The dull thunder of it vibrated through the soles of Roy’s feet, and the breeze carried
the spray across the water’s surface to cool his heated skin. The air smelled like pine and cedar.
All of his senses were as immersed as if he had walked straight into the water.

As always, something in him was instantly soothed—by the majestic scale of it, by the exertion, by
the satisfaction of having made it there. He felt his shoulders relax, his chest open up.

“Shit,” Jason said, coming up beside him. Roy glanced over to see Jason staring up at the
waterfall. It was impossible to say which was a deeper, clearer blue-green, the lake or Jason’s eyes.
“Okay, yeah, maybe this was worth it.”

They sat on a log by the side of the path and watched the waterfall’s endless tumble. “Ollie and I
used to come here a lot when I was a kid,” Roy said. “I started coming back by myself after I got
sober the first time.” He didn’t say that he’d never been here with anyone else, not even Dinah. He
didn’t want Jason to ask what made him so special.
“It’s beautiful,” Jason said. “When I was in Switzerland—” He cut himself off.

Roy hadn’t known Jason had spent time in Switzerland. He suspected that it was part of the time
Jason didn’t talk about. “It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t need details.”

Jason looked back at the waterfall. A few quiet moments went by.

“When I was fifteen, I found out that the woman who raised me wasn’t my biological mom,” Jason
said.

Roy went perfectly still, like he was trying not to startle a wild animal. He didn’t know why Jason
was telling him this now, but he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear it almost as much as he
wanted to be the person Jason trusted enough to tell it to.

“Bruce and I had a fight. We were always fighting back then, but this was a big one. So I ran
away,” Jason said. “I went looking for my biological mother, and I found her. Turned out she was
with this real shithead, a totally mobbed-up asshole. He liked to hit her. I decided to get in the
middle.” He touched the scar that ran down the side of his face. “He gave me this.”

Roy didn’t say anything. The waterfall spilled endlessly down the mountain.

“Anyway. One day he pissed off the wrong people and they threw a pipe bomb through the
window of the place we were living. He got out. My mom…” He blinked hard. “My mom didn’t.
And I was in the hospital for...a while. That’s when that one tabloid printed the rumor that I was
dead.” He shook his head. “When I was healed enough, I went home, but Bruce and Talia started
fighting really bad after that. They said it wasn’t because of me, but...I don’t know. But when they
got divorced, Talia took Damian, and I decided to go with her.”

“To Switzerland?” Roy asked softly.

“Yeah, for part of the time, and England, and Istanbul. Nepal, for almost a year. Talia’s father has
places all over the world,” Jason said. “I didn’t talk to Bruce for nearly four years. And then
Damian decided he wanted to see his father again. He wanted me to go back to Gotham with him,
but I wasn’t ready. It was like…” Jason rubbed his face. “Like Bruce and my real dad and my
mom’s shitty boyfriend who got her killed were all mixed up in my head, and I couldn’t deal with
Bruce until I dealt with the rest of it. But my dad’s dead, so I decided to find Mom’s ex instead.”
He paused. “And kill him.”

A chill ran down Roy’s spine. “Shit, Jay.”

“I know.” Jason’s laugh was hollow. “I was nineteen and so fucking stupid. But Talia had
resources, even if she didn’t know what I was using them for, and I found him. Bought a gun. Went
to his house.”

He closed his eyes. “So then I’m standing there screaming at him, asking if he even cares that he
got my mom killed, and you know what? He couldn’t even remember her fucking name.” He
swiped the heel of his hand under one eye, wiping away tears. “But he can tell that I don’t know
what the fuck I’m doing, and he jumps me. And I was tall by then, but still pretty scrawny. He had
fifty pounds on me, and I remember him hitting me when I was fifteen so I’m terrified under all
that mad, and I’ve got no chance, right? He’s got his hands on the gun, trying to pull it away,
screaming that he’s gonna kill me.

“And then the gun goes off. And he stops moving.”

Jason opened his eyes, but he didn’t look at Roy. “I was in the States, so I called the manor. I still
remembered the landline number, of all things. Bruce came, and…” He bit his lip. “The final
verdict was accidental death, and I got off of the manslaughter charge because it was self-defense.
Bruce even got the records sealed because there were so many extenuating circumstances. But I…”
He stared at the waterfall. “I went there to kill him. And if I’d had another minute or two to think
about it before he jumped me...I still don’t know whether I would’ve.”

He glanced at Roy, then away again. “So now you know. What kind of person you’re pretending
to date. So if you want to, you know, call it off...I get it. But I wanted you to know.”

Roy studied the line of his profile: the heavy brow, the crooked nose, the strong jaw. The scar
running from temple to lip, and the story it told along the way. How Jason’s shoulders were braced
against the blow he knew was coming.

He put his hand on top of Jason’s where it was resting on the log. “Sorry, Jaybird,” he said. “I
don’t scare that easy.”

Jason looked at him then, really looked. He didn’t smile, but the way his mouth went soft was
even better.

“Yeah?” he said, and Roy nodded. Jason turned his hand just enough to hook his thumb over
Roy’s. Not quite holding it. But almost. “Okay, then.”

Jason had been right—his trip to Star City had only fueled the fire when it came to the breathless
tabloid coverage of their “relationship.” Roy told himself that was why it was less than twenty-four
hours after Jason had gone home that Roy started looking at flights to Gotham. Jason didn’t seem
opposed to Roy flying out—actually, he seemed pleased, but Roy was trying not to read into that,
either—and so a week later found him on his way to the airport.

Dinah drove him. She didn’t say it was because Ollie was sulking, but they both knew it was
because Ollie was sulking.

“Listen, about the Wayne boy…” she said as they neared the airport.

Roy rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start. You’re supposed to be the cool one, D.”

“It’s not that. You know I don’t care who his father is,” she said. “It’s just...it seems like you two
are getting very serious very fast. And I don’t want you to wind up being hurt.”

Once again, Roy felt a twinge of guilt. “Jason’s not going to hurt me,” he said.

“I don’t think he wants to,” she said, reaching across to the passenger seat to squeeze his arm
before returning her hand to the steering wheel. “But I know you. You love with your whole self,
and you don’t like to go slow. Just...be careful, okay?”

He gave her a weak smile. “Yeah. Okay,” he said, and wondered if it was already too late.

Roy walked out of the arrivals door at Gotham International Airport to find Jason waiting for him,
leaning against the hood of a gleaming red and black Bugatti. The smile Roy broke into was totally
genuine; the “Hey, babe” he greeted Jason with was for the benefit of the half a dozen or so
paparazzi snapping pictures.
Jason stepped forward and pulled Roy into a kiss.

The fact that Roy had been thinking about pretty much nothing but kissing Jason for at least the
past week saved their con. He reacted on instinct, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around
Jason’s waist. He felt Jason’s thumb brush gently along his cheekbone before Jason stepped back
and broke the kiss.

“Uh. Hi,” Jason said. His brow was furrowed, like he was worried...what? That Roy would be
upset that he’d escalated the deception without discussing it first?

Roy smiled. “I gotta say, I’m really appreciating this new service Lyft is offering. Other drivers just
take my bag.”

Jason relaxed visibly. “That you can carry yourself,” he said.

Roy pouted but hoisted his suitcase into the trunk before getting into the car, and they drove away
from the paparazzi.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Jason said as they exited the maze of ramps around the airport. He
sounded nervous again. “I kind of got into it with Bruce before I left the house, and I just wanted
to...you know.”

Make him angry. Roy deflated slightly. He’d known better than to hope Jason had been feeling the
same way he was, and that he’d kissed him for no other reason than that he wanted to. But he’d
hoped it anyway.

God, Dinah really was always right.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, throwing Jason a rakish smile when he glanced over.

Jason shook his head. “I shouldn’t have taken it that far without asking.”

“Hey. You’re cute as hell, Jaybird,” Roy said. “Trust me, I don’t mind kissing you.”

This time Jason looked at Roy and away from the road long enough that he swerved partially into
the next lane, earning a furious honk from a passing driver. Jason swore, straightening the car out
as Roy grabbed the oh shit handle above the door.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jason said. “I just...let me…”

He navigated across three lanes of traffic and pulled into the shoulder, bringing the car to a
screeching halt that had to have left streaks of rubber on the asphalt.

“Is everything all right?” Roy asked as Jason put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Jason,
what—”

Jason leaned over and kissed him again.

The kiss at the airport had been nice. This wasn’t nice. This was heat and urgency and need,
setting every cell in Roy’s body ablaze with it. He opened his mouth to Jason’s and clutched at his
shirt with trembling hands.

When Jason pulled back, his cheeks were red and his eyes were dark. Roy licked his lips and
watched Jason watch the movement of his tongue.

“There aren’t any cameras here,” Roy pointed out.

“I know,” Jason said.

Roy’s heart was as loud as thunder. “How far is it to the manor?”

Jason’s brow furrowed. “Still about forty minutes. Why?”

Roy’s hands tightened on his shirt. “Then take me somewhere closer.”

It turned out Bruce kept a bachelor pad of sorts in the financial district, for when he was working—
or socializing—late, and all of his kids had the keys. Roy and Jason barely made it through the
door before they were tearing at each other’s clothes, stumbling into walls in their haste to get
naked without letting go of each other.

“Jason,” Roy groaned against that perfect mouth. “Ah, fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”

Jason went redder and dragged Roy’s shirt over his head. “Shut up.”

“No. You’re beautiful,” Roy said, and kissed the corner of his mouth, right at the base of his scar.

He felt Jason’s shiver. “Roy. I...fuck, come here.”

Jason tugged him down the hall and into a bedroom, giving him a shove when they reached the
sprawling California king so that Roy toppled onto it. Jason stopped to shuck his pants off before
climbing onto the bed, so Roy reached down to wiggle out of his jeans, intensely aware of Jason’s
hot gaze on him.

Roy kicked his jeans off the bed and Jason climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and
reaching up to yank off his own shirt. He was a work of art like this, all muscle and smoldering
eyes and an erection straining obviously at his tight red briefs.

“Get down here,” Roy said, reaching for him, and Jason leaned down for another crushing kiss,
groaned into the kiss as his dick rubbed against Roy’s stomach.

“God,” Jason gasped into Roy’s mouth. “I’ve wanted to do this since you took me hiking.”

“I’ve wanted to do this since you took me to the roof,” Roy admitted, sliding his hands down to
grab a double handful of Jason’s luscious ass.

He saw the blink of confusion on Jason’s face and then the moment he realized Roy meant that
very first night. “Fuck.” Jason rolled his hips against Roy’s. “You should have.”

“Would’ve been a hell of a party,” Roy agreed.

“Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” Jason said. He sat up a little and glanced down
between their bodies to where Roy was straining at his boxers. “Roy. Can I…?”

“Yes,” Roy said.

Jason frowned at him. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“It’s you,” Roy said. “Whatever it is, I want it.”

Jason ducked his head, looking at Roy through his lashes, a startlingly coy expression on him.
Then he backed up until he was kneeling between Roy’s legs, his fingers hooked into the
waistband of Roy’s boxers. “Still yes?”

Roy nodded vigorously, and Jason laughed and tugged Roy’s boxers down, his eyes going
flatteringly wide at the sight of Roy’s dick. Jason tossed the boxers off the bed and pushed Roy’s
thighs a little farther apart to give himself more room. Roy spread them eagerly.

“Jason…” he breathed as Jason bent forward and nuzzled his cock. “Baby, please.”

Jason looked up at him, his eyes huge and dark. “Tell me what to do.”

Roy was surprised by what seemed to be a sudden—but not necessarily unwelcome—turn into
kinkiness until he realized there was an alternate explanation for the question. “Have you never
sucked dick before, Jaybird?”

Jason scowled, which was fucking adorable. “Just tell me what to do. It can’t be that hard.”

“It can when that gorgeous mouth of yours is only an inch away from it,” Roy said.

“Asshole,” Jason said, but he was clearly biting back a smile. “Do you want it sucked or not?”

Roy reached down to brush his fingers against Jason’s mouth. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he
said, very sincerely. He pressed down on Jason’s lower lip with his forefinger. “Open your mouth,
baby.”

Jason opened his mouth with a quiet moan, and Roy eased the head of his cock into that
welcoming heat. “Just like that. You don’t have to take it all, just let yourself get used to it. That’s
it, that’s perfect.”

Jason’s lashes fluttered closed as he worked himself further on Roy’s dick, his mouth pulsing wetly
around it. His lack of experience was clear, but shit, he was eager, taking too much too fast and
pulling off to cough before trying again. It was wet and messy and all Roy could do was pet
Jason’s hair and try to keep his hips still, babbling praise all the while.

“Fuck, that’s good, you’re doing so well,” he panted, tracing the stretch of Jason’s reddened mouth
with shaking fingers. Jason was a quick and enthusiastic student and the wet heat of his mouth was
threatening to undo Roy. “So hot, Jason, just like that.”

It had been a while since Roy had been with anyone, and this was Jason, which was probably why
it wasn’t long at all before Roy was biting his lip and trying desperately to hold off orgasm by
doing multiplication tables in his head. At the press of Jason’s tongue under the head of his dick,
his hand tangled convulsively in Jason’s hair. Jason opened those gorgeous, hazy eyes and looked
up at Roy, and Roy groaned.

“Jesus fuck you’re so gorgeous,” he said, toes curling against the sheets. “Baby, you gotta slow
down, you’re gonna make me come.”

Jason made a low, urgent noise in the back of his throat, but he didn’t slow down. Roy tightened
his hair again. “You’re gonna...fuck, you’re gonna choke, I can’t—”

Jason pulled back just in time for the first pulse of come to hit his still-open mouth. Roy swore and
reached down to frantically stroke himself through his orgasm, overwhelmed by the startled and
proud expression on Jason’s face, Roy’s come dripping down his chin.

“Holy shit, Roy,” Jason breathed, his voice rough, as Roy’s trembling hand slowed. Jason’s tongue
darted out to lick his messy lower lip, and Roy’s thigh muscles clenched at the sight, an aftershock
rippling through him.

“God,” Roy managed, panting. Jason straightened up, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand,
and Roy saw that he’d shoved those red briefs down at some point, presumably to touch himself
while he went down on Roy. His dick was as big and gorgeous as the rest of him, and Roy wanted
it immediately. “Fuck. Get up here.”

Jason shifted to straddle Roy’s waist again, but Roy shook his head and tugged on Jason’s hips.
“No,” he said. He patted his collarbones with one hand. “Up here.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jason said, but he obediently moved up until he was straddling Roy’s shoulders
instead, his underwear still mostly on. Roy didn’t care right now. He could still get at what he
wanted, which was Jason’s beautiful cock, jutting out above the waistband.

He sat up enough to take Jason in his mouth, using his grip on Jason’s hips to guide him forward
so that when Roy’s head went back against the pillow, Jason went with him. “Oh, fuck,” Jason said
again as he slid into Roy’s mouth, hands slapping against the headboard to brace himself. “Roy.
Christ.”

Roy moaned his approval, both of Jason’s vocal pleasure and of the thick, satisfying weight of
Jason on his tongue. He coaxed Jason’s hips into shallow thrusts, fingers inching backwards to
dimple that plush ass. Above his head, the cords stood out on Jason’s forearms as he gripped the
top of the headboard, as he visibly fought for control.

Roy’s jaw was just starting to ache pleasurably when Jason tried to pull away, gasping “Shit, I’m
close.”

Roy tightened his grip. Oh, no. He wasn’t doing this for the first time. Jason gave a helpless little
whine but didn’t try to pull away again, and seconds later he was coming down Roy’s throat,
swearing and shaking as he did.

Roy pulled off, licked his lips, and peered up at Jason. Jason looked wrecked above him, flushed
red all the way down, his chest heaving. Roy was never letting him out of this bed.

He let Jason sit there for a minute, even though now that Jason was sated and slumped—and Roy
wasn’t so desperate to make him come he couldn’t think straight—it was a lot of weight to have on
his chest. Finally he gave him a gentle nudge. “Hey,” he said. “Come lie down.”

Jason blinked groggily, then startled. “Oh! Sorry,” he said, and shifted off of Roy.

He let Roy help him tug his underwear off properly, then stretched out beside him on the bed, not
quite touching. Roy snorted. “Yeah, no,” he said and moved closer, throwing an arm over Jason’s
stomach and a leg over his calves.

Jason stiffened, his hand hovering over Roy’s arm, and Roy worried that he’d overstepped. But
then Jason lowered his hand, drawing tentative patterns through the freckles on Roy’s skin, and
Roy relaxed.

His eyes were drifting closed when Jason said, “Was that fake sex?”

Roy blinked. “What?”

“Just now,” Jason said. “Was that fake sex?”

“If you’re not sure, I didn’t do it right,” Roy said, frowning at him.
Jason looked a little exasperated and a lot embarrassed. “No, I mean...to go with the fake dating.”

“Ohhh.” Roy shrugged a shoulder. “Well, that wasn’t exactly for our dads’ benefits, unless Bruce
likes to keep cameras in his bedroom…”

“Okay, ew.”

“...so I’m gonna say no.” Why was Roy’s heart suddenly racing? “That was real.”

“Real sex to go with fake dating,” Jason said. His expression was inscrutable, those stunning eyes
shuttered.

“Sure.” Roy shrugged again, feeling the inadequacy of the gesture as he did so. “I mean, why not?
I had fun, and you’re stupid hot, so if you wanted to...you know. Keep fooling around. While we’re
pretending to date.” He forced himself not to shrug a third time. “I’d be on board, is what I’m
saying.”

“Okay,” Jason said. Roy wasn’t sure if that meant he was okay with Roy being on board, or if he
was also on board. His face wasn’t giving anything away, and he didn’t seem inclined to say more.

There was an awkward silence. Roy tried and failed to get back to the happy, fucked-out place he’d
been a minute ago.

“It’s just…” Jason said suddenly, then fell silent again.

Roy gave him a gentle prod with his fingers. “Just…?”

“Well, it seems disorganized, is all,” Jason said. “If the sex is real...maybe the dating should be
real, too. You know, to match.” His eyes darted to Roy’s, then away again. His body was tense
under Roy’s arm.

Roy blinked a few times. Jason...Jason was asking him out. Jason wanted to date him for real, not
just to piss off their dads.

Roy’s first instinct was to pounce on Jason and kiss him stupid before starting in on round two of
their definitely real sex. Maybe even remembering to say “Yes, yes please” in the middle of all that.

But Roy had learned years ago, and recently for a second time, not to trust his instincts, especially
when it came to things he wanted desperately.

Caught up in the combined afterglow of orgasms and pissing off Bruce Wayne, Jason might think
he wanted to be with Roy. But Roy knew all too well that that never lasted for long with him. Jason
would get bored with Roy, or annoyed, or simply tired of a cross-country relationship.

And Roy…Roy wanted too much. It was his fatal flaw. He couldn’t let himself want even more of
Jason.

“I don’t know...” he said hesitantly. “Hooking up when one of us is visiting is easy, but an actual
relationship would be a lot harder. I mean, we live on opposite sides of the country, and that’s just
for starters. And I’m...I mean, you don’t want...”

Jason frowned. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he said.

He rolled out from under Roy’s arm and moved to sit at the edge of the bed, facing away from
Roy. The muscles in his broad back were tense. Roy wanted to press himself against them; he
wanted to soothe them with his lips. He wondered if it would be worth it to let Jason break his
heart.

“It’s just…you’ll change your mind,” he tried, sitting up as well. “Everyone always does.”

Jason snorted. He didn’t turn around. “You sound like Bruce,” he said.

“Wow, rude.”

Jason didn’t laugh at Roy’s—admittedly very pathetic—joke. “He’s so sure he’s the only one who
knows what’s right for me. I would have thought you’d be too sick of Ollie pulling that shit on you
to do it to someone else. God knows I am.”

“Jay…”

“If it’s no, just fucking say no, okay?” Jason said. “Don’t try to pretend you’re doing me a favor.”

Roy didn’t know how to explain. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Jason wanted him now. It was that
no one ever kept wanting him, and he wasn’t sure he could survive the moment Jason stopped.

Then again, he’d survived a lot of things he didn’t think he could. And really, how much of a
fucking coward was he willing to be?

“Well,” he said tentatively, “I do have a shitton of frequent flyer miles.”

“What?” Jason snapped.

“You know,” Roy said. “If I was going to be in a long distance relationship.”

He saw the muscles in Jason’s back get even more tense. “A fake one?”

Roy scoffed. “I’m not going to waste my hard-earned frequent flyer miles on a fake relationship.”
He shifted to his knees, crawled across the bed to put a careful hand on Jason’s back. Jason leaned
into it, and something in Roy’s chest eased.

“Frequent flyer miles get used up pretty quick,” Jason pointed out. He still hadn’t turned around.

“Well, the good news is my dad’s a millionaire, so I could probably just buy as many tickets to
Gotham as I needed,” Roy said. He kissed the curve of Jason’s shoulder and thought he heard a
sigh. “Even if he didn’t approve of my boyfriend.”

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Jason said, gruffly. “I think that boyfriend’s gonna be...really
fucking good to you.”

Roy slid his arms around Jason’s middle and kissed his neck. “I know he is,” he said. “Jaybird…”

Jason’s hand curved over Roy’s forearm. “Yeah?”

Roy leaned his forehead against Jason’s sweaty curls. Maybe this would end the way he thought.
Maybe it wouldn’t. But in the meantime, he’d get to be with Jason, and that was worth it either
way.

“It was never a no. Not really,” he said. “I just want you to know that.”

He felt Jason pull away and panicked slightly, but Jason only went far enough to turn and look at
Roy over his shoulder. His expression was as soft as Roy had ever seen it.
“Okay,” he said, and kissed Roy. “Okay.”

“...So you weren’t really dating when you first said you were dating, but you are really dating
now?” Ollie said from the tablet screen, his right eyebrow arching into his hairline. Dinah, sitting
beside him on the couch, had her hands over her mouth and seemed to be trying not to laugh out
loud.

“Yep,” Roy said, trying to sound nonchalant. He could just about manage it as long as he didn’t
look directly at Bruce, looming disapprovingly over him and Jason.

They were in Wayne Manor, in Bruce’s study, with Ollie and Dinah on a video call. Coming clean
had seemed like a good idea after a couple days of almost nonstop sex. Roy blamed his poor
decision making on being dehydrated at the time, because now it was just sort of embarrassing and
a little guilt-inducing.

Just a little, though, because Jason was sitting next to him on the couch, and even hunched and
sulky like he was right now, there was no one Roy would rather be next to. He slipped his hand
into Jason’s and lifted his chin defiantly at the camera.

Dinah let out an inelegant snort. “So you’re saying you tried to trick us into thinking you were
dating, but you actually tricked yourselves so bad you wound up actually dating? That’s adorable.”

Roy opened his mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t wrong.

“Why?” Bruce asked abruptly.

Jason shrugged against Roy. “Mostly to piss you off, to be honest.”

“And you really think that’s a solid foundation for a relationship?”

“I don’t know.” Jason glared up at him. “Why don’t I call Talia and see what she thinks?”

“Jaybird…” Roy murmured. Picking a fight wasn’t going to help. Sure, they were adults and didn’t
actually need permission to date. But he found himself wanting Ollie to be happy for him—not
pretending to be, but actually happy because Roy was happy.

He met Ollie’s gaze on the screen. “A Wayne kid, huh?” Ollie asked.

“That’s right,” Roy said, and leaned in closer to Jason. “A Wayne kid.”

Ollie sighed. “Well, anyone who gets Bruce this cranky can’t be all bad. Bring him over for dinner
the next time you’re both on this coast, okay? You like chili, kid?” That last bit was directed at
Jason.

“Uh...sure,” Jason said, looking startled. Roy couldn’t fight his smile. He’d warn Jason about the
chili later.

“Oliver…” Bruce started.

“Oh, lighten up, Brucie,” Ollie said. “If I can put up with you, you can put up with me.”

Bruce looked at Jason, and his hard edges seemed to soften slightly. “I suppose,” he said, and Roy
felt Jason’s hand relax in his.
 “Oh, shit,” Ollie said suddenly.

“What?” Roy asked.

“Bruce,” Ollie said. “That trip to Vegas in college. You got that annulment, right? Because if
they’re legally brothers, this is weird.”

Roy stared at Ollie. Then he turned to stare at Bruce. Jason did the same beside him.

Bruce’s deadpan expression didn’t change. “You were supposed to get the annulment, Oliver.”

“What the fuck,” Jason said.

Roy could only turn back to the screen in horror. Bruce and Ollie…? Was that why they had hated
each other all these years? Were he and Jason really brothers?

Ollie winked. “Gotcha,” he said, and burst into laughter.

“Jesus, Ollie,” Roy said as Jason cursed a blue streak next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he
saw the faintest smile on Bruce’s face.

Oh, well. Turnabout was fair play, after all. And Roy got Jason, so at the end of the day, it felt like
he was still the one winning here.

Ollie was still laughing on screen; so was Dinah, though less obnoxiously. Roy looked back at
Jason, red-faced and scowling at Bruce, but holding onto Roy’s hand like he never wanted to let
go.

Yeah. Roy was winning.

End Notes

I'm not sure Jason's legal case would actually shake out like that, but that's why I'm a writer
and not a lawyer.

Ollie has canonically struggled with alcoholism off and on in the comics. And Talia's
various houses are all places the League of Assassins has had their headquarters at different
times.

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