The Half-Shut Eye
He trades grins with Robin behind Batman's back. It's just like the old days of sidekick city, and it's all wrong. Dick's wearing what Roy lovingly refers to as the pimp suit, the one that shows off his impressive man-cleavage. And Roy is aiming a trick arrow at Batman's cape, one with a non-lethal sucker head that sticks really well to costumes. But his hands are holding his compound bow, which is way too bad-ass for his Speedy days, no matter what Ollie says about the betrayal of tradition.
"I wouldn't do it if I were you," Dick warns him.
"Yeah, you would," Roy says as he lets fly with the arrow.
Batman turns inhumanly fast for somebody who isn't a meta, and Roy has fucked enough metas to be reasonably sure of this. Batman turns and stops the arrow with a gloved fingertip. Turns and stops it and plucks the arrow out of the air. Batman throws it back at Roy faster than his best bow can manage, and Roy ducks.
He ducks and falls, and he can hear Ollie's voice saying, "Damn it, Roy, there's an Aqualad in my tub!"
He sees a flash of Mia swimming in an Olympic-sized pool. She's wearing Garth's uniform and the chlorine is turning her hair green. She waves, and Roy falls through the floor.
When he sits back up, Robin's Robin again and not pimp Robin, and he leans over Roy with his hands on his bare knees.
"You didn't watch your step," Robin says. "First one's a doozy."
"Where am I?" Roy asks. "It's cold in here."
"The bat cave," Robin tells him. "You tripped over a stalagmite."
He looks around, and the bat cave looks exactly like the arrow cave did before it got wrecked. Solomon Grundy drives past them in the old arrow car, glaring and growling and listening to music that Roy only hears in snatches.
Show tunes. West Side Story. Solomon Grundy feels pretty. Roy climbs to his feet, and a hand clamps down on his shoulder.
"What are you doing here, boy?"
Hot breath in his ear. Roy spins around and the room takes too long to catch up with his eyes. "Don't call me that!"
Batman stands only inches away, big and grim and intimidating. Roy isn't a little guy, but Bats always makes him feel like one. In a lot of different ways.
"How did you do that?" Roy is saying, and Batman's answering smile is made of granite.
"You're bleeding," Batman says.
Roy looks down and sees a chest full of bullet holes, his blood drip-drip-dripping onto the cave floor. It doesn't hurt, and he knows that can't be good.
There's a hard gauntlet under his chin lifting his face. Sharp smell of oil and plastic in his nose.
"I --" Roy says, and then he can't say whatever he meant to say, because Batman kisses him. Thin lips, hot mouth, and the push of his tongue like a slow fuck.
Roy shivers and groans, and Batman's gloved hands cup his face. He kisses Roy again, hard and hungry, and almost terrifying. Batman strokes the roof of Roy's mouth with his tongue, and it's messy, it's slippery, it's sex. Batman sucks hard on his lower lip, and Roy can still feel himself bleeding.
"Daddy?"
Batman's lips slip against his, and then Roy's vision jerks like he's falling. Roy opens his eyes, and Batman flickers and fades. He flops his head in the direction his blankets are moving, and sees Lian in her pink pjs standing beside his bed.
"Daddy, I'm thirsty," she says, and knuckles at the sleep in her eyes.
Roy groans and sits up. Drops his head into his hands. Scrubs at his face. "I hate my subconscious. I hate my subconscious."
"Daddy?" Lian says again.
"Okay, baby," Roy says groggily, sliding out of bed and taking her hand. "C'mon, I'll get you some water."
"Juice," Lian decides.
"Juice it is," Roy says, and stumbles toward the kitchen. He sits Lian down at the breakfast table and scratches at his healing ribs. It's still dark outside, the dead part of the night when the appliances hum, the clocks tick, and the building creaks as it settles.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, pumpkin?" Roy opens the refrigerator and leans his weight on the door. The inside light hurts his eyes.
"What were you dreaming about?"
Roy nearly drops the plastic jug of apple juice on his bare foot. "Nothing special," he says as he pours her a glass. Roy plunks it on the table in front of Lian and ruffles her sleepyhead hair. "Just dreaming about scary uncle Batman."
"I don't think he's scary," Lian announces, and slurps at her juice.
"You don't?"
Lian shakes her head. "Nope."
"Well, your daddy does," Roy says, and Lian giggles.