Another Thing We'll Never Talk About

by Rubynye

Summary:

"I don't know everything, Roy."

Notes:

Thank you to brown_betty and petronelle for audiencing and suggestions and generally encouraging me a lot. And to Derry the Derryest for running this year's JBBS!

Title: Another Thing We'll Never Talk About
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Robin I/Speedy I
Summary: "I don't know everything, Roy."
Written for maelithil in this year's jbbs fic exchange.
Disclaimer: The characters, their setting, etc, belong to DC Comics, not to me.
Author's Notes: Thank you to brown_betty and petronelle for audiencing and suggestions and generally encouraging me a lot. And to Derry the Derryest for running this year's JBBS!

"Six four, dude."

"Shut up, Roy." Dick peels off his mask as he limps down the hall. If this ankle doesn't settle down soon he'll catch hell from Bruce for letting himself get injured; he doesn't even have a story that justifies it, just some grade-B supervillian wannabe, a crowd of henchthugs and a bigger crowd of civilians.

The Titans did great, though. They won, and better yet they kept any innocents from getting hurt, even during a pretty rough fight. By the time they got back to the Tower everyone was sore and snappish, and Dick wasn't in a very peacemaking mood himself with his adrenaline simmering and his skin feeling too tight, but he managed to get everyone calmed down and squared away. Kory's taking a nap, Vic's patching up Gar, Wally took off to his girlfriend's and Donna took Raven home with her. Everyone's taken care of, and Dick's ready to fall on his face and just ache for an hour or two, till he has to get on his way home and deal with everything that's waiting for him between school and patrol. So of course now Roy's bugging him.

"Seriously." Roy's grin is wide enough to crack his face. "She's smoking hot, but you're never going to be as tall as she is, no matter how much you grow, Shortpants."

"Shut up, Speedy." Dick nearly trips over a basketball someone left lying around. He kicks it out of the way, maybe a little savagely, and it bounces across the hall and back.

"We're pissy." Roy kicks the ball into a doorway where it lodges. "You'd think we didn't win. Or that someone was still troubled by his shortcomings."

"Do you want a punch in the nose?" Not that Dick would. Really. No matter how much Roy's begging for it.

He drags himself three or four steps before he realizes that Roy isn't still breathing on his neck, literally or figuratively. When Dick looks back, Roy's hands are on his hips, and his smile's... not soft, but not the sharp toothy one he wears when he's teasing people till they want to strangle him. "You're really... is the ankle busted?"

Dick opens his mouth to snap, but Roy just looks at him without any challenge, and the cranky words fizzle out before he fully thinks them. "It's not that bad."

"Then what's eating you?" Roy opens the door to his room. "C'mon. Tell Uncle Roy all about it."

"Now that's a creepy thought." Dick smiles anyway, and hobbles back. "You're not that much older than me, Harper."

"But I'm taller." Roy slings a solid arm around Dick's neck and drags him inside. "Take the fairy shoes off, take a load off that ankle."

"I'm gonna kick you in the head one day." Roy's room faces west, so it's full of warm sunlight, and an amazing load of clutter. Dick flops onto the bed, already clawing at the cape; he loves the Robin suit, but sometimes after a fight nothing feels better than being out of it, and Roy's stripping down just as fast. When he's down to the leotard he kicks off his boots and winces before he catches himself; Roy stops undressing to rummage for a moment and turns to Dick with some pills in his hand. Darvocet.

Dick can just imagine Bruce's reaction if he knew Roy had this stuff at the Tower. He should probably should make Roy get rid of it; okay, he could try, and then they could fight, when Roy's just trying to be nice. So Dick simply shakes his head. "Where'd you get those?"

"Ollie's doc." Roy rolls his eyes. "You look like you're in pain, Dick."

"Aww, Roy, you really care!" Dick pushes himself up on his elbows, waving Roy off with a smile. "Really, I'm OK. Put those away." It's just a twisted ankle. And a mess of bruises blooming into soreness all over him, but he's had much worse.

"All right, if you're sure." Roy puts them away and pulls two bottles of bright red Gatorade out of his cube fridge. "Damn, I wish these were beers."

"Roy," Dick sighs, mostly on cue.

""I know you live in the benighted state of New Jersey, but there are places where they'll sell you a beer if you can see over the counter." Roy pitches the caps over his shoulder across the room into the trash. "After all, beer's good for you."

"Good for you." It's hard to sound incredulous while grinning; Dick only reaches mildly doubtful.

Roy's answering grin is wide enough that Dick just might be feeling a little better. "All those vitamins and minerals, all that filtered water." He flops down hard enough to make them both bounce, and Dick has to juggle his bottle from hand to hand to keep it from spilling. Roy laughs at him and takes a long swig.

When the Gatorade tastes good it means you need it. Dick finishes the bottle before he realizes it, and Roy just presses another into his hand. Halfway through, Dick realizes how fast he's guzzling it and makes himself stop, which leaves him watching Roy.

Roy's head tilts back, his eyes are closed, and his eyelashes are reddish gold against his pink, lightly freckled cheeks. It's been a long time since they've just hung out, since Dick's gotten busier with Gotham and now setting up this new team; Alfred's words about "how fast young people change at your age" had really been eye-roll worthy, but Roy does look different. The apple of his throat's more prominent, bobbing as he swallows, and the hairs on his bare chest cast wiry little shadows as he takes a long deep breath. Dick realizes he's staring just soon enough
before Roy'd catch him that he's got time to look away as Roy lowers the bottle and sighs contentedly.

OK, adrenaline. Dick takes a deep breath, then another, and wishes his skin would stop buzzing. Maybe he should take a really cold shower between getting back to his room and passing out.

"Mmm, Gatorade. Like Kool-ade made with piss." Roy looks sideways at Dick, grinning expectantly, one eye glinting through floppy red hair.

"Ugh." Dick can't help laughing. Or looking at Roy. "That's really appetizing, Harper." When he tests the ankle, it hurts a little less.

"Damn straight." Roy leans forward, elbows on knees. "So. What's up? You've got a great team here, even if that Raven chick is a bit freaky. And we won."

"Yeah, we won." Dick stretches his legs over his head. "With your help." Balancing on a mattress is enough of a challenge to satisfy his itchy restlessness, so he pushes up into a handstand.

"Anytime. But... would you sit still a minute?"

"I should get home. I've got stuff to do." While Dick folds back down to sitting Roy makes some noise he doesn't catch, and he looks up to find he's being glared at. "What?"

"Nothing," Roy snarls, then breathes, and shakes his head. "I just-- you've gotten kinda grim, you know."

That makes Dick want to surge in fifteen different directions, at Roy, up the walls, out the door. "I'm not grim! I just have stuff... on my mind." Like what Bruce will say if he's late. Or, worse, won't say.

Roy turns his palms up. "Hey, Dick, it's me. We were hero kids together, right?"

Yeah, they were, and Dick looks down from those wide-open eyes at his own hands, pale without his gauntlets, wrapped around a half-full plastic bottle. "It's just... I'll be off my game for a couple days, now."

"Time to catch up on schoolwork," Roy says negligently. Of course he doesn't get it. Dick resists the urge to throw the bottle against the far wall; none of those posters of girls with spiky hair or bikinis deserve that. Nor does Roy. Instead Dick finishes the bottle, steeling himself to get up. He should go drink some water and lie down in his own room. Kory invited him to nap with her, like it were that easy; he thinks about the way her long sleek arms would feel wrapped around him, and wishes he could've taken her up on it.

Roy sighs and rests his chin in his hand. The reddish fuzz of shadow on his cheek catches the slanting light, glinting a bit as he turns his head. "I was kidding about the schoolwork. Are you gonna get in trouble?"

OK, maybe Roy does get it. Dick kicks himself for not giving him enough credit, and when Roy's eyebrows tilt dangerously Dick hastily smiles. "Uh. Yeah, I might. Batman's been..."

"Extra special scary?"

Dick has to grin. "Something like that. He's..." And the memory of Bruce's few hard words, his silent anger, makes the grin fall off Dick's face. "I shouldn't really get into it." But the heavy lump that's been sitting on his chest all weekend is crawling up his throat, and he can't keep swallowing it forever.

Roy breathes harshly, just this side of a snort. "Spit it the hell out, Grayson," he grumbles. "My mentor's a jerk sometimes, too. A lot of the time."

"Not like this. I mean---" Dick isn't even sure Roy heard him over that quick, pissed-off hiss of air, and he reaches out to touch Roy's shoulder, arm, anything that'll convey an apology.

Roy grabs Dick's wrist reflexively. His hands've gotten stronger, too.

Neither of them breathes for a moment, as everything decelerates. Even the bits of dust catching the yellow afternoon light swirl to a halt.

They kiss so hard their teeth click.

The bottles thump to the floor. Roy's hair is soft and warm in Dick's hand, his tongue is already pushing into Dick's mouth, and Dick grabs Roy's hair and sucks on his tongue and lets himself go down under him. Roy shoves Dick back to the bed with his chest, with his weight; for a moment he's all over Dick, pushing his wrist against the mattress, running the other hand down his back to squeeze his ass, and the adrenaline surge propels Dick up into the kiss like they're sparring, like they're fighting. He doesn't have to struggle with words anymore, he just kisses Roy and takes the kissing he gets in return as everything falls away.

Then Roy goes stiff all over, which is how Dick realizes his legs are crossed around Roy's thigh just as he yanks his mouth free. "Whoa." His hair's all rucked up between Dick's fingers, and his eyes are so wide, and so warm. Dick forgets sometimes how warm blue eyes can be. "Whoa. What...?"

Even while he's speaking his fingers are tightening around Dick's wrist and his knee's sliding up along Dick's side, and Dick's skin warms outward from that press, from everywhere Roy's touching him. It feels good. It feels great. "Fuck that," Dick snaps, and his voice is too sharp for in bed, but the curse makes Roy just flare, his kiss-wet smile and his convulsive swallow and, oh fuck, harder against Dick's hip. "Fuck me."

Roy's kissing him again before the last word's out. It's getting good and messy, and the stubble on Roy's cheek isn't coarse enough to be scratchy, just tingly, and Dick hooks his good leg over Roy's waist and bucks. Roy bucks back, an electrifying throb. They haven't done this in a long time, hardly since they were kids barely old enough to patrol on their own, but it's the same as ever when Roy gasps through his nose and shudders from his center out, just the way he always did.

Dick could wrap the other leg around Roy's waist, too, if he could pull it out from between Roy's, and they could rub off against each other like that, but he wants more, wants the skin he can feel warm just beyond the last few clothes. Roy's hand feels really hot caging Dick's wrist, and he tugs free only reluctantly, but God, he needs to get out of his leotard. There's something dragging in the back of his head but it's fuzzed out behind the buzz and the crackle and the hard mobile press of Roy's mouth mashing urgently against his.

Dick has to twist against Roy to get at his clothes, and then again just to feel him, sweaty and hot and alive. Roy's chest is planed muscle now, and they slide against each other when Dick arches up against him, when Roy gasps sharply and does an awesome little wiggle-dance as he claws at his own boxer-briefs. Roy smells like a spar and tastes like something Dick could get drunk on, and the muscles of his back shift under Dick's hands, making him hold on tighter.

Roy can't twist quite like Dick can, so when he pushes his underwear down his legs he has to curl away enough that the kiss breaks. "Oh, God, oh, holy shit," Roy gasps against Dick's cheek. "Dick-- you always-- " He's finally naked, hard and damp and really shaking, and the line of his jaw tastes like freckles and stubbly warmth and the last remnants of his awful cologne.

Dick wraps himself around Roy as much as he can, arms and legs both. His ankle twinges when he drags his leg up Roy's side, but he wants so badly he barely cares. "Yeah," he puffs, though he couldn't articulate what he's
agreeing to. "Yeah, Roy, yeah."

"Dick. Mmm." Roy shakes harder, swallows with a hard click, and stills, mostly. "OK. Who's, who'll go--"

The perfect plan hits just like in the middle of a fight. "Better idea." Dick licks his palm, tasting salt and musk; Roy turns round eyes towards him, so he makes it slow, running his tongue along the length of his middle finger till Roy's dick twitches where it's nestled into his hip. Score. "Move over a little."

"What-- oh." Dick bites his lip as their cocks slide against each other, or he'd be whimpering too; Roy's cursing, softly and fervently and happily, and Dick can't even hear the words for the pounding roar in his ears. He definitely hears Roy's "fuck" when he wraps his wet hand around them both, definitely feels the damp velvet rasp and the pound of Roy's pulse under both his hands.

"Like that?" Dick asks. Well, he tries to, but Roy moves, and the words melt into a moan. Roy's laugh is wild and breathless, and he braces himself over Dick and moves harder, rubbing against his cock, thrusting into his fist till Dick can't do anything but thrust back. "Fuck me," Dick groans, clutching Roy's shoulder, holding them together, because that's what it feels like, it feels like Roy's fucking him, dragging him out of himself, as they shove each other towards orgasm.

"God, fuck, yes--" Roy's eyes are squeezed tight, and he sobs, and Dick watches him openmouthed as his face crumples and he moves faster, his cockhead riding back and forth under Dick's fingers, and the way Roy's
hair swings and the look on his face... "Damn, damn, Dick, ah..." Roy groans loudly and comes sticky warm all over him, and Dick's eyes roll back in his head as he arches into Roy and comes.

The orgasm stuns Dick like a brick to the head, and when he recovers it's to the heavy comfortable warmth of Roy sprawled and heaving across him. Finally, his skin fits on him again, around muscles and bones that feel like every cell's faintly glowing. Even the bruises feel better. Dick hangs onto the curve of Roy's shoulder and just soaks as he waits for the room to stop spinning and snap back into focus.

Eventually, it does. Eventually Roy heaves himself off Dick and they stare at the ceiling, gasping a little.

Dick fends off thinking for as long as he can, but the warmth drains away till he can't avoid it anymore. He and Roy, they haven't done this since life was simpler, before the Titans, before a lot of stuff. Back when they simply belonged with their mentors and Dick belonged only to Bruce, before Roy got girls to chase after and Dick got a few more responsibilities. Since so long ago he doesn't know what the rules are anymore, which fits with stomach-lurching irony with the way the rules are falling apart at home with Bruce.

Eventually the world comes back.

"What the hell?" Dick wonders to the ceiling.

Roy snorts. "Adrenaline, I guess." Their hands are half an inch apart. Dick can almost feel the back of Roy's hand against his, across that half inch of empty air.

That makes sense. "Yeah." And it pretty much means they won't do this again..

The sunbeams are redder and lower.

"For real?" Dick can feel Roy looking at him, and doesn't know if he should meet his eyes. Or if he can. "I was expecting some complicated explanation from you, Shortpants. Maybe something psychological."

"I don't know everything, Roy." Dick sits up. They both came on him, leaving him really kind of impressively messy. He checks out his tacky fingers, and wonders if it would be over the top to lick them off, and the thought makes his dick twitch a little painfully so he has to bite his lip. It probably wouldn't get him out of Roy's bed, anyway. Dick doesn't want to get up, which probably means he should.

"No, that's Batman." Roy folds his arms.

"Oh, don't start." Dick hears himself, too tired to even fake anger. All the adrenaline's gone with the orgasm haze, leaving him hollow.

Roy's hand settles on Dick's back, not moving, just there. "He doesn't know everything, you know." He sounds weirdly earnest. "There's a lot you know that he doesn't, and a lot---" He stops with a dark little laugh. "And. Anyway."

Dick kind of wants to tease Roy, and really wants to kiss him. He settles for smiling, though he can't quite look at Roy yet, and for a deep breath, and the truth. "Batman... this week during briefing he said he thinks I'm 'overcommitting' myself. With the Titans."

Roy's startle ripples all the way out to his hand on Dick's side. "Is he gonna make you quit?"

Dick should say no. "I don't know."

"He can't, he fucking can't." Roy slides his arm around Dick. The press of his hand's almost a clutch. The possessiveness feels way more reassuring than it should. "It's your team, he can't take that away. You'll tell him he can't, right?"

"Of course," Dick says with empty conviction. He really ought to get up and hit the showers. Instead Roy tugs at him, and he rolls into it.

"You're all sticky." Roy throws a leg over Dick's hip.

"Whose fault is that?" Dick snuggles in tighter.

"Fuck you."

"Didn't we just?"

When Roy opens his mouth to retort Dick kisses him. Roy kisses him back, slow and a little sneaky and exactly like he smiles, and Dick really, really wants to just sink into how this feels, just hang onto Roy and the Titans and not think about the rest of the world.

But he can't. Bruce, and Gotham, are waiting. Reluctantly, he pushes Roy back and disentangles himself. "It'll be evening soon. I--"

"Yeah." Roy lets go, almost finger by finger. "I know. I should get going soon too." He pauses, with a horrible not-smile, just long enough for Dick to know what he'll say next and start feeling extra awful for unloading on him. "Not that Ollie'll notice if I'm back or not."

Being angry for Roy hasn't really ever helped, so instead Dick laughs, and Roy gives him an eyebrow. "If we combined our mentors, if we could average them ---"

That's enough to get Roy to laugh. Bitterly at first, but it evens out, it works. "Yeah. If we could." His arm tilts towards Dick again, warm and tempting, and Dick doesn't know if he'll be able to pull away. But Roy drops his hand on his own chest. "Nah. They'd probably still be assholes."

"Batman's not an asshole." Roy just snorts, and, well, yeah. It has to be disloyal, but there's no way Dick can disagree; he tries to get mad, and just feels stupid. "Not all the time, anyway."

"Stirring praise." Roy waves his hand dismissively. "See you next weekend, Shortpants."

That's it, then. "OK, Shafty." Dick heaves himself up, and as the bedsprings squeak he almost misses Roy's quiet, "Dick?"

"Yeah?" Dick picks up his cape.

"I will, right?"

Dick looks back at Roy, his usual careless grin and wide worried eyes, and can't help reaching back. Roy hangs onto his hand just a little longer than they're probably supposed to, and Dick wants to hang on forever. "I'll be here," he says, watching Roy's smile spread up into his eyes.

Then Dick lets go.