Chapter Text
Jason is destruction. He's loaded guns and colourful pills and the burning ashes of a cigarette.
He's a purple bruise, a nasty scar, a broken lip.
He's cheap whiskey and black ink and worn out leather jackets.
Jason is destruction and frankly, destruction is the only thing Roy's ever been good at.
_ _ _
"You think too much."
Jason turns his head slowly to quirk a brow at Roy. The redhead is chewing gently on his bottom lip, picking at the dry skin with his teeth until he's tasting blood. He sweeps his tongue over his lip then, frowning at the taste of iron.
"I think too much?" Jason says slowly, like he's unsure of the answer on a test he didn't study for.
But this is not a test. This is not school. This is not the future they were promised but got anyway.
This is just two men sitting on a bathroom floor in some beat up and abandoned apartment by Gotham's far west coast.
"Yeah," Roy answers. He sounds distant, like he's already forgotten what they were just talking about. He's too busy trying to stop his lip from bleeding, pressing a fingertip to it until he can lick it again without the bitter taste of iron. After years of crime fighting, one would think he's gotten used to bleeding by now. He has, but he still doesn't like it.
He guesses, only to himself, that he doesn't like knowing that he's mortal. That he can die for every beat his heart does. That his blood is only a sign of that.
Jason, on the other hand, finds a strange comfort in knowing that every breath he takes could be his last. If you've been dead once, you don't exactly fear it anymore. At least that's what he tries to tell himself after every nightmare.
"It's like…" Roy shrugs, long hair falling into his face. "I don't know, man. It's like for every day that passes, you spend more and more time inside your own head and I'm just… Fuck, I'm just stuck here."
He's still not looking at Jason, who has to choke down a laugh cause if he starts he's not sure if he'll ever be able to stop and he doesn't feel like laughing himself to death. Not tonight, at least. Tomorrow, maybe.
"Well, I'd rather be stuck out here with you, but we can't always get what we want, can we?"
Roy purses his lips in a thin line, lowering his head a bit so his cap casts shadows over his face. Then, he shrugs again, his shoulders tense.
"Apparently not," he hisses as he looks up, green eyes meeting Jason's teal blue ones. An odd part of Jason feels like Roy's words are holding a deeper meaning, like he's referring to something else. Something different, something out of Jason's imagination. He doesn't point it out, though.
Some things should never have any attention brought to them. Some things are better left untouched. Sometimes Jason thinks he's one of those things.
They fall into a silence. It's not tense, but neither is it comfortable. It's just… them. It's just Jason Todd and Roy Harper and two worlds colliding with such force that they might choke on the ashes left by themselves.
Jason enjoys the silence. Roy wants to crawl out of his own skin.
_ _ _
"I like you better when you don't talk."
Roy snorts and rolls his eyes. He rolls over in bed, getting himself all tangled up in the dirty sheets, waiting for sleep to seek him out.
"Funny. I like you better when you do talk," he murmurs into the crook of his own arm. He can hear Jason hum, then he closes his eyes.
"Gonna make sure to speak less, then, just for you," the darker haired man says as he ashes his cigarette, watching the grey dust fall to the floor. The sarcasm is dripping from his voice, but it still holds some kind of truth that Roy wants to ignore but can't.
"Thanks. It feels good knowing you're at least doing that for me," Roy says as he shifts in bed, opening his eyes again only to look directly at Jason.
The other man is standing by the bedroom window with his back to the archer. He's only wearing underwear and Roy wonders, briefly, if he's cold. But he's Jason and he's always cold, even when he's burning hot with rage.
When too many seconds has passed and Jason still hasn't said anything back to Roy, the red haired man knows his words cut deep enough for him to finally roll over again and fall asleep.
When he wakes up, Jason's gone.
_ _ _
There was a time, when Roy was way younger and his life was way brighter, that he misses more than anything.
He thinks back to his youth, when the cigarettes had been more of a joke than a painful comfort. He thinks of the nights spent with his old friends before they all had left one by one and he became restless instead of safe. He thinks of the innocent kisses that eventually turned into sex, before sex became fucking for the sake of a release.
He thinks of Jason, when his laugh was sweet honey instead of burning whiskey. When his smile was welcoming and not intoxicating. When his hands were steady as they cupped Roy's face, and not trembling with the pills that should help him sleep but only makes him seem even more… Gone.
Around the same time, Roy had wished so deeply that he would fall in love. He watched all of his friends fall in love, saw them bubbling with happiness and bloom into something pure.
He had wanted to fall in love, too, so badly that he no longer could fall asleep at night.
He had wanted to love, and be loved in return.
From day to day, he met new people with charming smiles and inviting eyes, and from night to night he would sneak out when not out on patrol, and spend a few hours in their bedrooms.
They kissed, they laughed, they fucked, he left.
It would always be like that. He met someone, spent some time with them, told himself he had feelings for them, made them believe he was in love before never seeing them again.
He thinks that he fell in love with wanting to be in love, but never fell for anyone he met.
Jason looks at him. Blinking once, twice. He shoves at Roy's shoulder, making him stumble and lose balance briefly. He probably deserves the glare Roy shoots in his direction.
"And you told me that I think too much," Jason snorts, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Sure, baby."
This time Roy blinks, clearly lost. He tilts his head a bit to the left, like he usually does when confused. Jason refuses to admit that he's picked up on all of Roy's little quirks. He sighs, looking away.
"You're thinking too hard again, Harper. Give yourself some rest," he mutters.
Roy kicks away a tiny rock, watching it bounce once before rolling away down the road strecting out wide before them.
"Have you ever been in love, Todd?" It's too sudden, too odd. Roy's not sure why he asked, how the thought ever crossed his mind. But now when the question's out in the open, he finds himself curious for an answer.
Jason visibly tenses from head to toe. Roy can see his eyes going wide before he squeezes them shut and the breath he releases is shuddering, almost painful.
"Yeah," he then says after a moment. Roy pretends he doesn't see the little smile playing on the other man's lips.
The red haired man nods. He tilts his chin upwards, looking at the stars shining down upon them. The only light they'll ever have.
"Well, I haven't," he tells Jason when the silence becomes too much for him to bear with.
He can feel Jason's eyes staring at the side of his head. Can feel the other man take a deep breath. Can feel him all around himself. Can feel him drifting away.
"Lucky you. I envy you," the man with the brown leather jacket says coldly. The sudden change in his mood doesn't go unnoticed by Roy, who turns slightly to quirk a brow at him.
Jason laughs. It's bitter and sad and it makes him wanna die. Then he laughs again and again and again and he laughs until he can't breathe properly anymore and has to clutch his stomach to keep from falling to his knees. He laughs until he almost vomits and until the tears are falling freely down he's face and he's not sure if it's because he's laughing too hard or if the pain is becoming too much, at last.
When he finally stops, he wipes at his eyes, then turns to grin at Roy who's just staring at him like he just punched him in the face. He reaches out and puts a hand on Roy's shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb before letting his hand drop again.
"God, it's fucking awful," Jason says, still grinning.
Roy frowns. "Being in love is fucking awful?"
"Yeah. Stay the fuck away from it, Harper."
_ _ _
Roy's not sure when excatly it became a regular thing, but almost every night Jason would climb in through his bedroom window and Roy would take whatever he could get his hands on.
Tonight's no different.
Jason's skin is burning under his hands and Roy wonders briefly if he can feel it, too, or if he's always cold like his death froze the blood in his veins. He shakes that thought off, though, when a soft whimper breaks through the room.
Jason is straddling his waist, firm hands with calloused fingers gripping Roy's shoulders like he's grasping for his life. They're both shirtless and Roy's missing his pants that probably are somewhere in his room. He won't need them until morning, anyway. Jason's eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted in a silent gasp, his forehead glistening with sweat.
Yeah, Roy can get used to this. He's just not sure if Jason can.
The redhead's hands are gripping the other man's hips tightly as he bucks up, tearing a groan from the back of his throat. They're both panting. They're both eager like wild animals and Roy's always so good at seeming so collected and in control of himself but he's a fucking mess and only during these moments does it really show.
He shivers as Jason's nails dig into his skin and he's sure he'll bleed by the end of it. He doesn't mind. Can't exactly blame Jason when he does the same thing himself. He moves his hands away from Jason's hips and his fingers tremble as they fumble with the zipper to the other man's jeans. At the same time, Jason dives down and before Roy can register it they're fucking kissing and he almost moans when Jason's tongue slips past his lips, clashing with his own.
It's so hot in the room that Roy thinks he's gonna suffocate any moment now, especially when Jason brings the air out of his lungs like it's some game and he's the one who invented it. He pushes Jason's jeans down over the curve of his ass, making him break the kiss with a shaky breath.
"Wanna fucking ride you, Harper," he breathes out between bites and licks at Roy's jaw and Roy's breath hitches as it takes his everything not to melt under Jason's weight.
"Fuck," he mutters and he doesn't even try to hide the whimper making his voice waver. "God, Jason, yes. Yeah, fuck."
Jason chuckles, sending shivers down Roy's spine and he swears he can feel the dark haired man smirk against his neck. He's always smirking, always grinning, never smiling. Roy bucks his hips again and has to resist biting his bottom lip until it's broken as he loses contact with Jason. The younger man is hovering above the redhead as he shoves his pants down the rest of the way, then tossing them away in the very far corner.
Roy's vision is starting to blur because Jason is so incredibly hot and Jason is gonna ride him and Jason's scent is musky and sharp with a hint of gunpowder and Jason is everywhere and all around him and all Roy can think is Jason Jason Jason until he can't see anymore. Until he can only feel. Can only be.
At some point Jason gets their underwear off and Roy does only snap back to reality at the cold feeling of lube dropping on his thigh. He almost comes right then and there at the sight before him, silently thanking every god he can think of in his head.
Jason is now straddling his hips and his head is thrown back, tiny whimpers and quiet moans escaping his parted lips as his arm moves back and forth, his hand hidden behind himself. Roy places his hands on the other's thighs, squeezing them and feeling the strong muscles flex and tense as Jason's standing on his knees to keep his body up.
Roy can feel his own fingers gripping Jason's thighs even harder as the realisation hits him that Jason is fingering himself open and fuck he looks strangely beautiful. Roy resists telling him that, though, cause Jason can't be beautiful. He doesn't want to. Nothing about Jason Todd is beautiful and he would probably slit Roy's throat if he knew what he was thinking.
Suddenly sticky fingers are sliding across his abdomen and Roy looks up just in time to find Jason's piercing teal eyes staring down at him with such hunger, like it's the end of the world and Roy is his last meal.
"You ready, lover boy?" Jason smirks at him, his eyes glimting with something Roy can't put a name on.
The red haired man rolls his eyes, wanting to knock the smirk right off of his face then kiss him until neither can breathe properly anymore.
"You're the one about to have a fucking cock in your ass, Todd. I should be the one asking you if you're ready."
Jason snorts and mutters something under his breath. Roy doesn't even bother trying to catch it. Then time is moving too slow again before speeding away too fast as Jason wraps his rough fingers around Roy's cock and it feels so good Roy almost swallows his own tongue when trying to hold back a moan.
At first it's slow but steady, as Jason sinks down inch by inch until his ass is seated perfectly against Roy's hips and they're both letting out broken breaths with their eyes shut closed. But then Jason's eyelids flutter and he brings his hungry gaze towards Roy who has his head thrown back on a dirty pillow.
He moves, teasingly, trying to bring out Roy's wild side and break him down piece by piece only to build him up stronger than ever before. But Roy's already a complete mess and right now Jason is his only lifeline but it's just sex, just a quick fuck, then they're done and can go back to their shitty lives like Jason isn't even riding him right now and like he never fucked Roy on the kitchen counter the other day.
Soon enough, they're building up a pace. It's fast and rough and hard and Jason's whimpers are echoing through the room along with Roy's breathy moans. It's dangerous and risky and Roy can't get enough of it. Can't get enough of Jason's hot tightness and his strong thighs and the way he's rocking back and forth like he might just die if he stops for just a split second.
Jason places his hands on either side of Roy's head, palms flat against the pillow and his eyes are burning. There's a heat in his icy teal orbs that Roy wants to drown in. He knows that, if he doesn't look away soon, he's probably gonna say something he'll regret before he's even finished talking. But he can't look away. Doesn't want to. Can't. He finds himself stuck in Jason's hot gaze and his eyes that are blown wide with lust and arousal and never has Roy been this turned on ever before.
He smirks, the man with the grey streak in his hair, and leans down until their faces are inches apart. His breath is coming out in tiny, puffy clouds, hitting Roy's lips for every exhale and stealing parts of him for every inhale. It's like Roy is his cigarette, his nicotine, and Jason is addicted. It's too much like the reality crashing all around them. An addict. Jason Todd, addict, killer, dead but still alive. Jason Todd, the man who brings destruction to the world with his bare hands, without breaking a sweat.
Jason Todd, who has so much power, so much control, lost himself when he died, and became a slave to self destruction when he was brought back to life.
He's also the man currently sinking down on Roy's cock before bringing his hips up again and again and again so fast that Roy is actually kind of surprised that both of them yet has to come. He closes his eyes just in time to feel Jason's lips on his own again, parting them with his tongue and licking into his mouth. But the kiss is slow, so unlike their fucking. Jason is a man who fucks hard, fast and rough. A man who has no time for cuddles after, but would rather light a cigarette and disappear into the night. He's a man who never makes love, only fucks. But he puts his everything into every single thing he does, and it never fails to amaze Roy.
"Stop fucking thinkin' so much, Harper," Jason breathes against Roy's wet and kiss swollen lips.
Roy swallows thickly. He often forgets how well the other man can read him. How well he knows him and his quirks. But he never points it out, though, that Jason seems to know Roy better than he knows himself. No one knows Jason Todd. Knows his name, yeah. But not him.
The redhead tilts his head backwards and slides his hands over Jason's smooth skin. His fingertips stop now and then, tracing a scar and a birthmark that somehow survived the pit. Jason never talks about it. How do you talk to someone about being dead and then coming back to life with issues you've never known? He wonders, for just a second, if Jason ever counts every scar and freckle and mark to make sure no one's missing. He wonders if Jason counted them before he died, and if he blames himself if he didn't. He wonders if he ever panics, freaks out, and tries to scrub his skin off in the shower when he thinks one is missing. Maybe that's why he showers for hours sometimes.
"Seriously," Jason hisses against his jaw, nipping at the skin there with sharp teeth. "You're gonna drive me crazy with your thinking."
Roy huffs out a laugh. It's breathless and he sounds defeated rather than amused. He knows that part of Jason's words are true. They're both always on the edge, ready to break down completely. He knows they're both grasping for the little sanity they have left, before they lose themselves.
"Sorry," Roy whimpers instead of letting his thoughts out. Jason shakes his head.
"Shut up," he pants against Roy's neck before he lifts his head again to look down at the redhead. "Tomorrow, Harper, I'm gonna fuck you real fucking good." That tears a desperete whine from deep within Roy's chest.
Roy can't speak. He's too lost in the feeling of Jason. Instead he just grips Jason's hips harder, fingers digging into skin and creating crescent moons. He pushes up, meeting Jason every time he goes down and they go faster, it gets messy and it's unsteady. But he's getting closer, can feel the heat bubbling in the pit of his stomach making his balls tighten and his vision blur and his breathing heavy.
Jason is gripping at his shoulders again, tearing at it with his blunt nails and marking Roy with something new. Maybe Roy can count his own marks later, in case he were to die as well. Just to make sure. Just to know. Jason's head is hanging between his shoulders and his eyebrows are furrowed together. He's biting hard on his bottom lip, blood prickling down his chin slowly and his eyes are shut closed. Roy knows that look now. He's about to come.
He wraps his slender fingers around Jason's cock and strokes, squeezing a little at the head and making precome run down his hand. He does it again. Then again. Then one more time and Jason is coming with a cry and a choke as he slumps against Roy's chest all sticky with his come.
He stays like that for a moment, trying to catch his breath and regain his energy and maybe if he ditched his cigarettes it wouldn't be so fucking hard to just fuck sometimes and maybe he could enjoy the afterglow instead of feeling like he might throw his lungs up.
Roy shifts a bit under Jason's weight. The man with the dark hair lifts his head and the fire in his eyes seems to have burned out, like there's just a small glow left and it needs fuel to burn bright and dangerous again. He pushes himself up, still panting heavily.
"You k-know you don't have--" Roy pants between breathy groans.
"Fuck, Harper, have I ever not finished something that I started?"
Yes. Yes, you have. Like your path to happiness. You never got to the end of it.
Roy keeps quiet and shakes his head, long strands of ginger hair getting stuck to his sweaty forehead and all it takes is four more thrusts up until he's coming with a shudder and a deep moan. Jason helps him through it, slowing down and riding out his orgasm until they're both two panting messes with semen all over their glistening bodies.
It feels like ages before Jason moves again. He gets up to stand on shaky legs and frowns at the come dripping down his inner thigh. If he gets dressed now, there'll be stains. He stretches and turns away from Roy who watches his every move with blown eyes and an uneven rise and fall of his chest.
Jason reaches for his brown leather jacket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. Marlboro, always Marlboro. Roy knows so. Doesn't ask why. He lights it then tosses the lighter away, and when he takes his first drag and feels the toxic flow through his veins, he almost feels stupid for thinking that he should give up smoking. Smoking, that is his only lifeline. The only thing making sure he gets through the next day without tearing his hair out.
"You can use the shower, if you wanna," Roy mumbles as he shields his eyes from any source of light. He always offers Jason a chance to properly clean up before slipping out of Roy's window again and put his hood on and bring terror in the shape of crime fighting to the streets of Gotham.
"Alright," Jason hums and at that Roy moves his arm away from his face, staring at him with wide eyes.
"What?" Roy's frowning in confusion.
"Alright," Jason says again through the smoke of another drag and Roy just nods, slowly and unsure.
Jason never takes up his offer on showering, never says anything after he gets his after sex cigarette. The red haired man is mostly just shocked, but also curious as to why Jason just decided to change his answer one night. The question is right there, on the tip of his tongue, but instead he just nods again and watches Jason pick his clothes up and disappear into the bathroom with the dirty tiles that once were white.
When Jason later comes back he's fully dressed and Roy is starting to get dizzy. He still has the cigarette between his lips, like it's the only thing giving him life although it's killing him at the same time. He tosses something at Roy who catches it by instinct and the redhead can feel his stomach drop when he sees what Jason found.
"I hope the heroin makes you feel as good as I do," Jason mutters coldly. He moves across the room towards the still open window and in one second he's already half way out.
"Could say the same thing about your cigarettes, Todd," Roy shoots back as he clenches his fist around the needle, wanting to crush it even though he knows he currently needs it more than anything. Maybe that's the point. Maybe he just wants to punish himself by not letting himself have what the truly wants. What he truly needs.
Jason snorts then tosses his other leg over the windowsill. "Not the same thing." Then he's gone.
"Still an addiction, though."