Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice, the comic or the show, or any of the characters associated with it. I make no profit from this work of fiction; it is purely for entertainment purposes.
A/N: Written for the Song-Lyric Challenge by ChuChuMarshmallow in the Young Justice Fanfiction Challenges forum. Set sometime before my drabble "Feeling Good". Rated M for drug use.
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Roy was used to pain; some tiny needle was nothing, but *Nathan had insisted. Had pushed and persuaded until he'd sat back and let the more experienced man have a go at it.
"Wouldn't want to scar up that pretty little arm of yours," he'd said,"A tic too much and you'll be in the gutter. It's fine, you'll be able to do this on your own soon, just let me..."
Roy only half listened. He'd stared down at the needle, watching the nimble, weathered fingers adjust the strap and seek out a vein. Quietly he tilted his head to get a better look at the others' face. The tanned creases around his eyes were drawn in concentration and the redhead could tell he was only putting on a show of being immersed in what he was doing.
Nathan was a dealer.
He looked at least fourty, thinning brown hair laced with grey, nails and teeth cared for but yellowing with age. For someone under the constant threat of being caught and punished, the man seemed oddly at ease. The thought unsettled the teen, and as the metal slid across his skin he flinched, not out of fear but out of realization.
"Easy, easy," the man soothed, though his crooked grin was all but sincere. This was illegal, wrong, and he was Speedy, sidek- partner of Green Arrow, a superhero.
A light pinch turned to a searing rip as Roy lost his nerve and jerked away. The needle that had entered his skin created a half inch slit before snapping off under the sudden pressure. Nathans' grip was strong, however, and his retreat was stopped cold. Quickly, the broken needle was pulled from his arm, and he met the mans' angry glare with a startled look of his own.
"The hell do you think you're doin' kid?"
"I didn't mean...I'm sorry, I'll pay for it, I just-"
The nervous boys' hurried apologies were cut off by a deep sigh. The anger had melted from the other males' features and in his hand was a fresh needle, retrieved from the pocket of his jacket. He transferred the contents of the useless hunk of metal and plastic to the newly unwrapped dart and shifted his gaze back to his customer.
"S'fine, so you got the jitters? So what? Nothin' new."
Roy swallowed hard, glancing down at the blood gathering on the tiny wound and then back to the discarded needle. The drug hadn't had the chance to be injected but adrenaline was running rampant, giving him the familiar 'battle rush' that he'd become so accustomed to.
"Take this and clean yourself up."
He took the offered scrap of tissue robotically, wiping the cut with a faraway look in his eyes. What was he so afraid of? That he'd get caught? That he'd disappoint Ollie? That he'd sully his name as a hero? A bitter snort accompanied the flick of his wrist as he tossed the napkin in the trash. He was in his civvies, he was just Roy Harper, there was no name he had to live up to. Not at that moment in time anyways.
Tension coiled in his gut and his brows drew down tight as he fought off the sudden lump in his throat. It wasn't like Ollie cared anyways, the old man knew he could take care of himself. He'd always told him there was nothing wrong with getting a little help every now and then and, hell, the stuff would calm him down for sure. He'd only take it once, to see how well it worked. It would help his aim if nothing else; lately he'd been getting the shakes, and every now and again he'd swear the thugs were out to get him specifically. Even if Ollie did have his back it still made him nervous. It was hard being hated by so many people who had the means to kill you in several different ways.
Everything would be fine. He wouldn't get addicted.
Wordlessly he held out his arm again, forcing his lips into a thin smile. Nathan mirrored the expression and a needle entered his skin for the second time, the slow precision of the first entry gone as the man injected the drug before Roy could chicken out again. Immediately he tensed, not sure what to expect as he waited for the drug to take effect. He flexed his fingers as the man pulled back and slipped the needle back into his pocket, rising from the crate he'd been sitting on with an almost curious glance.
Sharp brown eyes were watching him, examining him closely like an insect beneath a magnifying glass. The focused attention made the young man nervous, though he didn't have time to think much on the sudden change of pace as he felt a rush of heat. It wasn't at all uncomfortable and was accompanied by a jolt of energy and a wave of something he could only describe as pleasure. It rolled over him with surprising force and he closed his eyes, the bright blue orbs nearly rolling back in his head as he suppressed a startled groan.
The sensation spread until it reached every centimeter of his body. Roy shivered as he felt the energy pulse through him, thoughts swimming, darting like shy fish just beyond his grasp as he struggled to focus. It just felt so...so...
"So? How's it, kid?"
A snap and Roy drowsily opened his eyes. He couldn't tell how long he'd been sitting there but from a glance at his watch it'd been at least ten minutes. His vision blurred and for a moment he forgot he wasn't home, half tempted to lie down on the floor and just go to sleep. Nathan was eying him, however, and he shook off the hand offered to him, opting to stand on his own. The usually simple action took longer than he'd expected; he felt so sleepy and...well, relaxed. A light smile graced his lips at the realization and not even the fact that his arms and legs felt like lead weights could bother him anymore. It had worked, all tension had left his body. He couldn't remember ever feeling so at ease, not even before he'd taken up his Speedy persona.
A rusted, but solid, dark blue door gave way under a firm push from the brunets' foot. Roy felt a light pat on his back and barely registered the wisp of warm breath on his ear as the man whispered to him that he was always welcome to return. It was a good thing he'd paid the man beforehand because his mind was far too scattered for him to process any types of transactions now.
The door clanged shut, creating a cool gust of air that ruffled the hem of his sweatshirt , inviting the moist air of Star City in to caress his flushed skin. It had just finished raining and the soft plish plop of his sneakers on slick cement sent an odd tingle up his spine. With another wistful smile he tilted his head back, successfully redirecting the steady drip of water on his head into his mouth. His suddenly dry throat was relieved by the weak, cool trickle from the rain gutter.
Life was perfect.
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"Ollie..."
Was he laughing? Roy would have been screaming at him if he could have at least found the time to stop himself from vomiting. His eyes watered as the acid burned his throat, the sound of rich deep laughter ringing in his ear.
"Aw kid, don't tell me you've got another hangover."
If Roys' head had been on even halfway straight he would have been able to hear the oblivious playfulness in the mans' voice. He would have realized that Oliver hadn't grasped just how desperate he sounded. With a groan, he lurched over the toilet again, violently dry heaving and nearly dropping the phone into the soiled water. A low whistle sounded from the receiver, followed by a light chiding from the elder archer.
"You sound terrible; I told ya you shouldn't party so hard. Tell ya what, take a couple aspirins and relax, work off that...whatever it is you've gotten into yourself. I'll be back in a couple days to give ya a proper what-for then."
When had it become so hard to speak? His tongue felt swollen in his mouth, and by the time he managed to work around the odd sensation to actually try and get Ollie to stay, the man had already hung up the phone. The dead buzz cut through the fog layered thick on his mind and he growled, tossing the useless gadget aside. It bounced and skittered across the tiled ground, coming to a rest against the bathroom door. He'd wanted to ask for help, he'd needed to ask for help, but he realized as he cringed and clutched at his aching stomach that he simply wasn't strong enough.
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After a strenuous session with a mugger two days later, Roy awoke to the heavy clomp of boots in the hall outside his room. Normally Ollie was silent as the night; it was quite obvious that the man wanted him to know he had returned. For a long moment the redhead stared at the door, curled on his side in the dark, a phantom ache deep in his belly of what he knew would be coming soon. His ribs were starting to ache again, the tranquilizing effect of the drug he'd taken only minutes prior beginning to wear off. The nausea would hit soon, he knew, but he couldn't be bothered to try and drag himself from the bed. How he would hide it, if he would hide it, he couldn't tell. His eyes fluttered shut and he rolled over to face the wall, lazily slipping the sleeve of his shirt back down.
Ten minutes later the door creaked open, a broad shadow lingering in the doorway for all of a moment before vanishing again. Ollie never was one to make the first move.
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Roy found himself meeting up with the brunet more frequently now that Ollie was back. His mood declined sharply for every hour the older man was in his vicinity, and it didn't help that for every scathing comment he made he was either snapped at or ignored. The trips were dangerous, but the drug called to him like a siren. With every arrow he fired he could practically feel his fingers threatening to tremble, feel his grip weakening to the point of almost pain.
Nathan had suggested he shoot under his tongue or between his toes, somewhere where no one could see, but he'd flat out refused. No elaboration, no good humored chuckles, just a cold stare and a blatant dismissal. Now that he thought about it, hunched in a port-a-potty not far from the destination of his latest outing, he didn't quite understand why he'd been so opposed to the thought. Maybe he'd thought it was too much of a hassle. Maybe he'd thought it'd be too dangerous.
Maybe he'd wanted to get caught.
A knock sounded on the hard plastic of the door. The good natured chuckle that followed nearly tore his heart to shreds.
"You okay in there kid?"
Maybe he'd wanted Ollie to notice, to figure it out for himself, just this once.
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A/N: Nathan is an OC. I don't know what the heck i'm writing about here with the drug use and all that so if it's ass then you know why. Now that you're done reading this, you should totally hop on over to the Young Justice Fanfiction Challenges forum. There's a link to it on my profile hint, hint.