It was five in the morning when Roy Harper's communicator went off.

Groaning, he rolled over to fumble the button onto speaker. Squinting, he blearily made out the name on the caller ID.

"Why the fuck are you waking me up at five in the morning," he grumbled, burying the side of his head back into his pillow. "If someone isn't dead—"

"Relax, Red." Artemis's voice came through muffled and suspiciously nasal, like someone was pinching her nose. "I need a favor."

Scrubbing at his face with his free hand, Roy glared half-heartedly at the communicator, sleepily willing the admittedly diminished force of his stink-eye to transmit through the speaker and shame his ex-sister-in-law into a lower volume. "…Is that supposed to make me less annoyed at the fact that you woke me up at five in the morning—"

"Shut up, Harper, we both know you weren't getting any sleep anyway," Artemis snarked, pausing mid-sentence to blow her nose. "I know that Lian has the flu."

Roy yawned, jaw stretching wide. "How the hell—"

"It's a Crock thing," she interrupted, yawning through the sentence. Roy quietly ticked a mark in his favor, stubbornly suppressing the urge to yawn again in return. "In addition to hilarious childhood trauma, our dad blessed Jade and I with the Crock curse of getting the flu every winter around this time."

Roy admittedly didn't know much about genetics, which in hindsight was a little weird, because the whole clone thing supposedly should have gotten him interested, but that sounded like bullshit.

But again, five in the morning. So he decided to roll with it. "Okay, but that still doesn't—"

"Also Jade told me."

What Jade and Artemis actually chose to share with one another would never not be a puzzle to Roy. So far, most of it seemed to concern Lian, because what ever his ex-wife and her sister's disagreements, the one thing they did seem to agree on was that the whole world could burn if it would keep Lian Harper warm. "Thought so."

"Okay, so. Speaking of horrible Crock genes and getting the flu—"

"Is that why you sound like you tried to go down on Killer Croc?"

"Okay. That was disgusting, first off," Artemis blustered, and Roy could picture her flapping her hands angrily at the communicator. "And I don't know if I hate you more for the pun or for the mental image now seared into my brain. Why do you know what Killer Croc's dick looks like? Do you? Why do you? Why would you even say that."

Roy brought the communicator very close to his face, whispering harshly. "Listen hear you little shit. It's five in the morning, I haven't slept in three days because my four year old's body is leaking snot everywhere and she's still young enough to throw tantrums, and you. Woke. Me. Up."

"You're a vindictive bitch," Artemis snarled.

"And?"

"And I need you to cover for me for a mission."

Roy sat up, professional pride and a lifelong sense of one-upmanship kicking exhaustion out the door. "What, like a patrol? I can see if Ollie will sit, I guess."

Artemis went quiet for a moment, before continuing somewhat tentatively. "…More like a two week minimum undercover operation."

"Oh, fuck you, Crock."

"Please!" Artemis wheedled. "You're the only person who I trust to do this!"

Roy sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Who's gonna watch Lian?"

"…have you noticed that it's suspiciously quiet at your place."

Roy shot out of bed, running bare-ass naked to his daughter's room. The small bed-lovingly handcrafted by Lian's 'Uncle Connie', who somehow picked up woodworking in Kansas -was empty both of his sick daughter and her favorite dinosaur plushie.

Beet red, Roy stalked back to his bedroom, grabbing his communicator to growl into it. "You fucking bit—Did you send Jade to kidnap my daughter?"

Artemis huffed, dramatic impact somewhat ruined by the sneeze that preceded it. "Okay first of all she's not just your daughter," she defended. "She's my niece. And also Jade's daughter, which is less important but also true." She paused to blow her nose noisily.

Roy flinched away from the communicator in disgust. Intellectually he knew you couldn't get sick from talking to someone over the phone. But. Still. Gross.

"Point is," Artemis continued, "It's so not kidnapping. Second of all literally all of us are sick right now and we're going to hole up at my mom's and be miserable and eat pho for the next week while we recover. Think of it as a vacation."

Roy slumped back onto the bed, scratching his hand through his hair resignedly. He knew when he was beat. "A vacation you arranged so you could manipulate me into a two week long mission you volunteered for."

"…It's a cruise in the Mediterranean?"

Roy scoffed. "Why the fuck were you going undercover for two weeks on a cruise in the Mediterranean?"

"It miiiiiight be a cover operation for a cult."

Of fucking course. "Ah. Okay. That still sounds suspiciously benign," Roy said. "And since I'm too old to believe in things like having my sick daughter taken off my hands so I can go on a cushy undercover mission, I'm going to need some more details before I agree to shit."

"You'd be going with Kaldur," Artemis said with the air of a lawyer who knows she's already won the case and is just making final remarks for formality's sake.

Roy slumped back fully into the bed, thoroughly defeated. "Is he the only other person going?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck it. Fine," Roy groaned, trying desperately to preserve some dignity and pretend he was still upset about having to take a last minute assignment.

"Fantastic," Artemis chirped, not buying Roy's shit for a moment. "Mission brief is tomorrow at the Watchtower. And remember to bring a suit!"

"Why the fuck would I need to bring a—Artemis? Artemis!"

It was a couples cruise.

And not just any couples cruise. It was a couples retreat , for married or otherwise serious couples having communication issues.

And Kaldur wasn't just going with Roy.

No. He was going with Roy.

As his fiancé.

You think you're so fucking slick, Roy texted Artemis, furious.

I have no clue what you're talking about, she texted back five minutes later, after Roy had a chance to go over the glossy cruise pamphlet, horror building in his gut. Couples massage classes. Couples cooking classes. Sessions with a certified marriage counselor. Couples pottery. Ballroom dancing.

This was going to be a nightmare.

It's not that Roy thought doing this things with Kaldur will be awful. In fact, if anyone, Kaldur was probably the exact person who Roy would have the least terrible time with.

Which was exactly the problem.

Roy thought he'd done an okay job, over the years, at hiding his obnoxiously massive and persistent crush on his best friend. Obviously he hadn't fooled everyone, because there was no way Artemis didn't plan this, the little shit, but he was pretty sure most everyone else he knew had no idea how badly Roy wanted to find out what Kaldur's mouth tasted like.

He was especially sure that Kaldur didn't know, because he'd been very fucking careful not to let him know.

Because Kaldur was wonderful, and refined, and elegant and controlled and most definitely not interested in tying his life to a mess like Roy Harper's.

"Pulling off a fake marriage shouldn't be too hard for you two," Dinah said, addressing Kaldur. "Despite Roy's previous relationships and your...lack of experience, I'm confident the two of you can make it work."

"Are there any specific relational issues that Rory and Kosta are supposed to have?" Kaldur questioned. He stood casually next to Roy, addressing Dinah across the briefing table. His arms were crossed loosely, hip cocked. All in all, he was entirely too calm about the situation in Roy's own opinion.

Dinah grinned. Roy felt a shudder run down his spine.

"Good of you to ask, Aqualad," she said. "Rory has anger management issues, while Kosta has a tendency to self-isolate and become non-communicative when he experiences stress."

"You certainly avoided adding any element of realism to the charade," Kaldur observed wryly. A small smile played on his lips, resting butterfly-like, light and fleeting, about to take wing.

Roy pinched himself harshly. The mission would probably go better if he didn't get poetic about Kaldur's lips.

"I assure you that any resemblance between the fictional personas depicted in this briefing and real persons is coincidence," Dinah deadpanned, manipulating the screen on the table to display Rory and Kosta's profiles. "The fact that Rory is a champion archer and Kosta is a World University Games championship swimmer who met met when Kosta transferred from his school in Greece to Rory's university is also to be discounted."

Roy frowned, suspicion creeping up the raised hair of his arms. "These profiles seem awfully complete for something that was thrown together at the last second," he commented, narrowing his eyes at Dinah's poorly hid smile. "I thought this mission was originally planned out for Artemis and Kaldur."

"I wrote several profiles of likely teams as back-ups," Dinah said casually. Roy knew by the smirk she threw his way that she was lying through her teeth, but chose to keep quiet. Continuing their argument about why her trying to get him and Kaldur together simply wouldn't fucking work in front of Kaldur wasn't exactly something he felt up to today.

Smug, Dinah turned back to the table, flicking the screen to display a large blueprint. "This is the boat you'll be taking for the couple's cruise. I've already given Aqualad most of the details. Roy-how much did Artemis fill you in on?"

Roy shrugged noncommittally. Normally he tried to make briefings as easy as possible, but he wasn't feeling particularly charitable at the moment. "She said it was an undercover mission."

Dinah's eyes twitched. Roy knew from experience that she was barely restraining herself from rolling them. If they were alone she would, but Kaldur's presence had always weirdly pushed Dinah to act mature. More of a leader/mentor, less of an exasperated older sister.

"Specifically you're going undercover to investigate a possible cult," she elaborated, switching the display to a colorful webpage. Cheery, uniformly happy looking counsellors stared back at them, all of them eerily identical in their purple polo shirts and khaki slacks. "The company that runs the cruise line specifically targets rich couples with their ad and sales agency."

Roy snorted. "Spam mail and classism doesn't exactly strike me as conspiracy worthy."

"The issue lies not in how the couple are recruited for the cruise, my friend," Kaldur interjected. "But in what happens after the cruise has been completed."

Roy cocked a brow, turning to face Kaldur. "What? Low customer satisfaction? Turns out taking a luxury cruise doesn't magically solve you and your SO's deeply seated relationship issues?"

"Actually, the cruise has a hundred percent success rate amongst couples that were recruited," Dinah corrected. "The rate is lower amongst couples who signed up on their own, but that's not the problem either."

"So they're decent at their job. Still not seeing where the whole cult thing plays in."

"It's after the cruise where the concerns start cropping up." With a flick of her wrist, Dinah shifted the display to a three dimensional layout of an eerily Stepford-esque suburb. Displayed on the side of a series of pie charts, detailing what looked to be stock investments.

"Almost every couple recruited for the cruise ends up investing all of their resources into the company," Dinah said, gesturing to the charts. "One month after the end of their vacation, each couple sells their home, cuts off contact with their friends and family, and moves to the same real estate development in LA." Dinah gestured to the holomap. "The development is owned by the same parent company that owns the cruise line."

Kaldur hummed. "All of these couples have careers or own businesses, yes? What becomes of those?"

Dinah flicked to another screen, a long list of lobbying groups, NGOs, and international corporations. "Many of them go on to work for the company, or move into careers used to advance the company's interests internationally. Senators and congress members, diplomats, business tycoons, tech executives-many of the people they've gone after are very influential in addition to being wealthy."

"How exactly did this come to the League's attention?" Roy questioned.

Dinah shrugged. "We have members who have been acquainted with several of the targeted couples."

Roy snorted. "I didn't think Ollie knew any married couples."

Dinah's lip twitched, her face struggling to maintain composure in front of Aqualad. "Wrong billionaire, Red Arrow," she corrected, drawing a small velvet box from her jacket. "However, I think you'll find that Ollie knows at least one soon-to-be-married couple. Starting today."

Dinah handed the box across the table to Roy, smirking.

Uneasily, Roy accepted the box, prying it open slowly.

"Really?" he deadpanned, shooting Dinah a poisonous look.

Her smirk widened. "Really."

Nestled in white silk were two matching golden bands.

Kaldur shifted closer, eyeing the box and its contents curiously. "While the gesture is appreciated," he remarked to Dinah, "I was under the impression that Kosta and Rory were merely engaged. Is it not tradition that only one partner wears such a ring?"

Dinah smiled beatifically. "They are, and it is. Those are your purity rings."

Roy flushed red. "You've gotta be shitting me," he squeaked, holding the rings out from himself like poisonous snakes.

Dinah burst into laughter, hand over her mouth to muffle her snickering. Kaldur even smiled, chuckling quietly at Roy's expense.

"Holy shit, your face," Dinah wheezed, supporting herself on the briefing table.

"What. The. Fuck," Roy grit out, anger simmering to the surface. "And you!" Roy pointed to Kaldur, who was trying and failing to hide his silent chuckles. "Stop laughing! Were you in on this?"

Kaldur marshaled his composure, visible straining to keep a smile from overtaking his somber expression. "Of course not my friend," he assured, then broke back down into quiet chuckles. "But your face-"

"They're glamor charms," Dinah interrupted, having gotten control of herself. "And engagement rings. Both partners can wear them, even if it is a little unusual. Even though neither of you are exactly well known, we can't risk anyone recognizing you. Not only would it blow the mission, but they may decide to try what ever mind altering technique they've been using on their victims on you two."

Kaldur, finished laughing at Roy's expense, the traitor, interjected. "It would also be fairly hard to hide my own peculiarities from the crew and other guests for two weeks without magical assistance."

Roy glanced down at said peculiarities. Namely, Kaldur's webbed hands. "About that," he said, grabbing one of Kaldur's wrists to display said hand to Dinah. "How the hell is he supposed to wear a ring?"

Dinah rolled her eyes openly, having given up on any semblance of professionalism. Openly laughing her ass off at her boyfriend's former sidekick had sunk that ship already. "Pull them out of the box, Harper."

Roy did so, revealing that one of the rings was attached to a thin, gold chain. "Oh."

"Oh," Dinah repeated smugly. "Well, go ahead and put them on now. Might as well make sure they work and let you two get used to your new appearances."

Roy eyes the rings suspiciously. "This thing isn't going to make me a blond, is it?" He looked up, meeting judgmental stares from both his companions.

Roy flushed. "Oh come on," he defended. "You know I don't mean blond is a bad thing," he gestured to Kaldur and Dinah's own shimmering, golden hair. "It just-" he shrugged helplessly, unable to come up with a good defense.

Kaldur nodded sagely, placing an understanding hand on Roy's shoulder. Roy tried to ignore the way his skin thrilled to the touch, praying the others would write off his increasing blush as embarrassment.

"It is alright, my friend," Kaldur assured. "We are all aware you would look awful as a blond."

"Thanks," Roy grumbled, slipping his ring onto the appropriate finger. "Come here." Roy gestured for Kaldur to turn around, fastening the golden chain around the other man's elegant neck when he did so.

Roy gamely tried to ignore the way Kaldur's skin felt beneath his hands, smooth and warm, or the slight shudder that ran through Kaldur's body when Roy's hands brushed accidentally against his gills. It wasn't easy, and it'd probably be best to move away before any...problems started presenting themselves. Itself.

Settling the necklace in place and stepping away, Roy couldn't help but admire the look of the gold against Kaldur's rich brown skin.

Kaldur liked to think that, throughout the years, he had endured quite a few trials with the quiet dignity his mother had raised him with.

Childhood bullying, slurs regarding his appearance on both land and sea, the unwanted role as Team leader, the debacle with the Invasion, the deaths of friends-

This latest indignity-foisted upon him by one Artemis Crock, a traitorous villain of the most sinister machinations and one of his greatest friends-promised to leave his dignity as nothing but a crumpled ruin.

Because Kaldur'ahm of Shayeris could bear a lot things, but being engaged to Roy Harper was not one of them.

It's not that, Kaldur thought as Roy drew Zatanna's charmed rings from their velvet casing, he minded the thought of being engaged to Roy Harper. Of having his hands on his skin, of sharing his ring and his life and his love with his best friend.

It's that Roy would never put his hands on his skin, would never agree to this mission, if he knew just how desperately Kaldur wished this farce could be a reality.

So it was with the greatest restraint that Kaldur stood, stock still, while Roy clasped the golden chain that bore his engagement ring around his neck. The archer's warm, callused hands brushed Kaldur's sensitive gills, sending a tingle of hot lightning shooting down his spine. Kaldur bit viciously down on his tongue, silencing a gasp, but was unable to suppress an involuntary shudder.

Balefully, Kaldur remembered that the cruise included decidedly tactile activities such as couples massage and dance classes. He felt his stomach drop even as his traitorous heart gave a faint flutter.

This mission will be the death of me, he decided dourly, and turned back to Black Canary for the rest of the mission brief, careful to avoid Roy's eye.