Warning: Jason is darkish in this story.
I don't own Batman. I don't own shit.
You love him; You know you do. You love how blue his eyes are and how they light up when he's excited about something. You love his mouth, his pink full lips that are inviting and tantalizing and filled with such promise. You love his neck. You love the graceful slope of it and how he's so sensitive there when you kiss him. He offers you gasps and little moans and you take those to memory. He's always been so pliant and trusting with you and the fact that he trusts you enough to let you have him at his most vulnerable is nearly overwhelming.
"I trust you, Little Wing."
You love Dick Grayson. It's not even a question, but there's always something more isn't there? You've always been difficult, you understand this. For as much as you love him, you love hurting him just as much. There's always that satisfaction of when you're arguing with him and you throw something particularly biting at him and it shows in those baby blues of his. You remember all the times when you've fought him as Red Hood and managed to land a hit on his pretty face. How his bloodied lip had been so satisfying to look at. You love the feeling of your fingers wrapping around that slender throat and putting on just enough pressure that he knows that you have him.
It's disgusting, you know this. You've loved Dick since you were a kid and yet you find sick pleasure in causing him even the most minute of pain. It's something you've dealt with for a long time. Since he first danced into your life, all grace and talent while you were nothing but a knock off copy. You loved him the moment you met him, but that did nothing to quell the dark jealousy and hatred that lay in your stomach. Sometimes you want to push him off his pedestal and watch him fall. You want to cut his lines even though you know his biggest fear is falling.
He's like a light in ways. The kind that attracts so much attention but when you get to close, you get burnt. You are the fly. You know he shouldn't, but you can't help yourself. He deserves better than that. He deserves better than you, but like you, he always had a knack for rebellion and Bruce's opinions were easily ignored and Damian's distaste was placated. They knew who you really were. They could see the anger and darkness that you tried so hard to hide. You wanted to be good. You wanted to make Dick happy; You wanted a lot of things. You never usually got your way anyway.
He's in no way perfect and he knows this. He has a temper to match your own and his own demons that he would rather forget than face. You understand. Sometimes forgetting is easier than acknowledging it, but that doesn't stop you from judging him. 'Coward,' You think as your lips murmur words of understanding. There was a darkness there but Dick was content to ignore it and pretend that everything was okay.
Roy Harper had loved Dick once. Had adored him with his very being and it was the light all over again. Roy had flown too close and had been burnt. Whtever he and Dick had been was never discussed. There was anger there, different from your own, but still there. He had become your closest friend, he knew it was like to be discarded and forgotten. He hadn't approved when you started dating Dick.
"He's too much drama, Jason. Walk away while you can."
You don't want to walk away. You don't want to lose Dick. You want to be able to walk down the street holding Dick's hand in your own. You want to watch dumb romcom movies with him until 3 in the morning while eating take out. Dick was your person. You don't want it to end, not when you are finally with the man you love. But you are also self destructive, and whether it was to hurt Dick or to hurt yourself, as far as you are concerned what you and Dick have could never last. It was only a matter of time until it crashed and burned.
Roy offered something that Dick couldn't. He didn't love you and you didn't love him, but there was something about him that just drew you in. So one night after one too many drinks, the both of you fell into Roy's bed together in a tangle of limbs. You pinned him down, straddling his waist with a little grin. He was smaller than you but still bigger than Dick, more heavily muscled and scarred in placed that Dick wasn't. His skin was as pale as your own, which contrasted with Dick's own golden flesh. It's different, but you can't get enough. Roy's anger is enough to match your own and you enjoy every moment of it. You don't need love or labels, just a bedroom and that unspoken understanding that Dick could never provide. Roy's as broken as you are, like a broken teacup and although you don't fit together you can still pretend. How could a broken teacup like yourself ever fit against Dick's own unchipped one?
Dick and Roy were no longer close but Dick never spoke up against your friendship with him.
"He needs friends. I'm glad he has you."
Would Dick think the same if he knew that Roy sucked your cock like a pro? Better than Dick did even. How he never gagged and made the most delicious noises while going at it? Would he be as accepting if he knew that Roy had ridden you on the matted old couch in your living room? How the kitchen counter you had fucked Dick on was also used while Roy returned the favor? The sex was good. Not as mind blowing as with Dick and without any sort of emotional bond, but it was good and raw and you loved it.
It all reaches a head when one evening while Dick is out and it's just you and Roy at your apartment, you take him to bed. It's late and Dick is still out. You have Roy pinned to the mattress, his face buried in the pillows as you thrust your hips against his. You never fuck him on his back. You never look into his eyes while you're with him. There's something far too intimate about doing that with Roy. The only eyes you want to see are Dick' and of you want to kiss. It's pure fucking and that's just fine. Now you have him on his stomach, his arm pinned behind his face and his face pressed against your pillow. He's not as vocal as Dick is, mostly muted moans and low cries. Still, he's tight enough and curses you as you hit that little bundle of nerves inside him. Your laughter is loud in the little bedroom.
"Had enough, Harper?" You tease, rolling your hips as your grip on his arm tightens. He snickers back, dark eyes blinking in the dark bedroom, egging you on without saying word. He rolls his own hips back and you draw out before slamming back in harshly. Distantly you hear the front door close, but you barely pay any mind to it. You don't hear the tentative voice calling out, "Jay?" as the owner of that voice hears the grunting from the bedroom. Roy does however and goes stiff, eyes darting towards yours, almost a plea but you don't budge. You hold his stare, even as now you can perfectly hear Dick's approaching footsteps. You thrust again and Roy moans despite his own hesitation, eyes falling shut.
The door opens and the dark bedroom is spilled with the golden light coming from the hallway. You turn you head, not stopping your motions as Roy grunts beneath you, hard and near completion. Dick stands at the door, staring with those blue eyes of his. His hand is holding the door knob and his face is blank, almost like he's not truly understanding what he's seeing. It's only when Jason thrusts again and Roy comes with a low moan, that Dick finds his voice.
"Roy," Dick looked from his former friend to his boyfriend, "Jason?" And that satisfaction of seeing him look so hurt is equally satisfying and heartbreaking. You come, staring into Dick's eyes even as you are finishing inside your best friend.
"Dick." You greet, tone bored as you fall back onto the bed beside Roy who is blinking away his own high. You inspect your fingernails, waiting for Dick to speak up as Roy manages to get his breathing under control. Dick closes his eyes, blinking as if hoping he's seeing things wrong. When he opens his eyes you hold his gaze, hungry to see what he will do. What he will say? Roy is silent at your side, tense as if prepared to spring to action. You don't spare him a glance, hungry to see Dick's every move. Dick breathes out, wavering as if in pain.
"I dont...I don't understand." Dick manages to speak up, tone vulnerable and confused. He's not angry yet. He's still trying to process what he's seen. He's still trying to find out why.
"What's there to understand?" You drawl and Roy glances at you, almost bewildered by your blasé reaction. Dick closes his eyes again and keeps them closed. For a long moment it's silent.
"Why?" Dick finally asks. You snort and finally look away. There's an ache in your chest now and there are many things you want to tell him. That you both love and hate him with every fiber of your being. That when you first saw him as Nightwing you could barely even stand straight. How his cooking is awful but you eat it anyway because he made it for you. How he was one of the last things you thought of before the Joker took you away. You want to spit at him and hurt him, tell him that he's nothing but a coward and a liar. You hate cowards. You hate him. You want to reach for him and take his calloused fingers in your own, apologize. You want to wipe away that lost expression on his face or at least see the anger that you know is there.
"Because I wanted to." You finally reply, voice low. Roy closes his eyes and Dick nods his head once, as if it hurts him to do so. You watch him, not bothering to cover your nakedness. He can see every bite mark and the stains from what you had just done in the bed you shared with him. Dick takes a step back, those baby blues of his shining. You don't look away. For moment you see that anger and you want him to shout. To yell and to fight you. It's gone as quickly as it comes though, leaving just that lost look.
A weak breath is released like air from a balloon. It's a sound both you and Roy are accustomed to. It's a sound of pain and weakness. One that he makes when he's hurt. When he's lost. He made that sound after Bruce had 'died'. He had made that sound after coming to you after facing Damian's constantly barbed words and cruelty.
"I don't know what to do for him."
You always hated that noise. It was painful and lost and had no business coming from Dick. Now he makes that sound again as he stares at his ex best friend and his replacement turned brother turned enemy turned lover. Roy can't look at him, guilt finally reaching him and he could only look down at his hands. Dick however only has eyes for you. He stares at you, looking for something. Something that will explain this all. Something that won't take you from him once again. However, you hold your cards close and stare him in the eye, unflinching.
Dick breathes.
He flees the room, leaving the door untouched as he runs out of sight.
You remain on the bed, hands folded together. You don't look at Roy as he quietly slides out of the bed and dresses. He doesn't look at you, shoulders hunched and mouth in a thin line. He dresses silently and walks out of the bedroom. You let him go. There's nothing more you can offer each other. Still, it does sting knowing that you lost a friend tonight.
"People like us kid," The Joker breathed out with a little laugh. "We like hurting. We like taking things. I can see it on your face. You pretend to be good or whatever, but it's there. It's in you. We take and we take and we take but it's never enough is it? Oh no, not until everything around us is burning."
You had expected some satisfaction. Some pride that you could bring Dickie down. Dick didn't give you the satisfaction. He left as silently as he came, something he never usually did. He'd no doubt go to the manor or to Barbara. They would soothe his wounded ego. You don't doubt this. It's cold in the room now. Like all the warmth had been sucked from it. You can still see his eyes, blue and filled with such anger and sadness. There's no satisfaction. There' no pleasure in this pain and you know it.
You close your eyes.