A/N: Wow.
I'm scared.
Well, not scared, really. Shocked is more like it.
Why?
This is dark.
I am a sadist. I am. Heck, I brutally murdered my favorite character for no apparent reason in my first story.
But this is a new level of dark.
Not only is there physical pain, oh, no, I'm playing with emotions, too.
And it scares me. I honestly didn't know I could be this dark.
Well, for some of you, it's not going to be that dark. But for me to be writing it, me, who, besides being a sadist, is actually a very happy-peppy-excited person, it's a bit heavy.
I hope you don't hate it.
Warning: Features alcohol, swearing, and sex. But nothing too descriptive.
He had already had a few drinks. More than a few. He was, really, flat-out drunk.
Being that drunk can do a number on your judgment.
Which is why, when she stumbled into the bedroom, pretty drunk herself, his first thought, irrationally, was; Well, hello there.
His second?
Oh. Shit.
He knew inviting her had been a bad idea.
But it seemed so innocent in the beginning.
Megan had been sitting in the Cave by herself when Roy arrived. Everyone else was off doing their own thing. Even Superboy was out. Wally and Robin had invited him for some "male bonding".
Kaldur was in Atlantis. Artemis was at home.
So Megan was all alone.
He felt sorry for her, he did. He would have stayed in the Cave with her, but going to this party was more… appealing.
And then he had an idea.
"So, do you want to go to a party with me?"
She had jumped at the idea.
Part of him was screaming; "This is not a good idea. This is not her crowd."
But another part kept picturing her sitting on the sofa, watching TV by herself.
And so he waited as she went to change.
He should have listened to the less sentimental, more rational part of his mind. Or at least, he should have watched her, never let her out of his sight. He shouldn't have left her, forcing her to fend for herself against pressures she had never dealt with before, and opted to go hole up in some empty bedroom to drink by himself.
That's why he was there, of course. It wasn't the idea of socializing that brought him to these sorts of things. It was the idea of free beer.
If he had been smarter, he wouldn't have ended up in this situation.
Megan wouldn't have ended up in this situation.
But he hadn't been, so they did.
And now, Megan was practically too drunk to stand, stumbling into a his haven, and practically falling in his lap.
Her momentum pushed him backwards, so he was now lying on the bed, with her on top of him.
And, as mentioned before, they were both drunk.
Again, Roy tried to think rationally. He grabbed Megan's shoulders, trying to push her up off of him. She was laughing at something, he didn't know what.
Giggling, she took his aggression the wrong way, and instead of backing off, slid her hands along his chest and kissed him.
Roy had to admit, even drunk, she knew how to kiss.
He tried to clear the fog in his brain as his mind once again urged him to be reasonable. But that was hard, considering that somehow, Roy's hands had already managed to remove her shirt, and were about to start working on her bra.
Suddenly, he sat up, pushing her away.
"Roy?" Megan's eyes were full of hurt.
Roy sighed, gripping the last bits of reason left in him. "Megan, no. You know this is wrong."
"Oh, Roy," All traces of hurt were gone. "How can it be wrong?" she pushed herself up against him, forcing him to lie down again, as she lay on his chest. "It feels so right." Her mouth was dangerously close to his, her fingers sliding across his chest, opening up his button-down.
"Megan," he groaned. "You're drunk. Please, stop."
She pressed his lips to his jaw, and all he could think was; Roy, this is Megan we're talking about. And, as her lips brushed down to his chest, faster, less reasonable thoughts raced through his head; ?
"God," Roy's voice shook, "Megan, you need to stop. Now." But Megan wasn't listening, and Roy didn't know how much longer he could keep his grip.
When Megan slid her hands down his sides and under the waistband of his pants, he found out.
Roy awoke with a headache. There was a small amount of light coming through the window.
In the dim light, he took in his surroundings. He saw… clothes strewn about the room. Further inspection led to him realizing that yes, he was naked. Head still foggy, he struggled to remember what had happened, who he had…
And then his eyes fell on the figure at the other end of the bed.
Oh, no. Oh, fuck.
Megan sat arms around her legs, knees to chest, covered in only a blanket wrapped around her.
Realization hit as he remembered the events of the previous night. He couldn't take his eyes off of Megan. There were tears streaming down her face, and he had done this to her.
She turned to him, and he looked away. He reached for his boxers, thank god they were right next to the bed, and pulled them on before walking around the room, gathering clothes. Once he had them organized into his and hers, he placed her pile next to her, telling her to get dressed. He winced at how harsh he sounded, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her to tell her reaction. He left the room, trying to give her some privacy. An evil part of his brain whispered what does it matter? But he felt he needed to let her have this, now.
In a few minutes, he checked on her, and, seeing that she was dressed, led her out to the car.
He couldn't bring himself to speak, even to say "Sorry."
He would deliver her to Mount Justice.
The entire team would be there, demanding to know where they had been.
Just based on seeing the two, some of the team would figure out what had happened before he explained. They would all hear the whole story anyway.
They would hate him.
It wouldn't matter that he never apologized.
Doing so wouldn't have made a difference.
What he had done was unforgivable.
A/N: Not quite as dark as I had thought it would be. Still, dark.
Do you hate me now?
Well, review anyway!
.
Okay, strike that. If you hate it, don't review.
.
Actually, do.
.
Don't.
.
You know what? Do whatever.