Roy has issues, Dick has a crush.
The last of the explosions went off behind him, the heat rushing to meet him and smoke filling his lungs as the metal shrieks and moans, melting in the heat. Coughing he staggers out of the warehouse, skin red round his mask and aflame, Robin drops down from the roof, completely unburned and smirking lopsidedly. Roy waves the smoke from his mask and sends him a glare, "Thanks for the warning Boy Wonder."
Breathing a little breathlessly, Robin isn't quite meet Roy's eyes when he answers, "Three minutes means three minutes S-Speedy," He stumbles over the mocking name, knees going weak and swaying slightly before catching himself. "It's not my fault you can't time manage."
Resting his hand on Robin's shoulder he asks, "You okay Boy Wonder?" The dark shadows he originally thought where just Robin's ridiculously floppy hair drips onto Roy's glove, staining it a deeper black. Under the smell of smoke and ash and fire is the coppery scent of blood, Robin sways one last time before collapsing on Roy, and he can feel the smaller nails scrabble to cling to his shirt, Robin's cheek hot and heavy against his chest.
" 'M fine, Shafty. Gimme a second to catch my breath would ya," the sentence slurs terrifyingly near the end, more vowels than actual words.
Roy grunts as he picks up Robin, cradling him to his chest, the boy is heavier than he looks. Robin squirms in his arms until he half drops him, catching him around the chest where Robin wraps his legs around his waist, looping his arms over Roy's shoulders, "Don't say anything," Robin mutters into his ear, sounding annoyed and defiant. Admittedly it easier to hold him this way, and now he can use his bow to swing up onto and across rooftops, something Robin probably figured out the instant he fell against Red Arrow. Cursing his lack of forethought, Roy jumps from building to building, using his hand to brace Robin's back when he isn't using it.
Rain begins to drizzle down, making Roy's burnt leather gloves smell more strongly. Robin doesn't move other than to tighten his grip and readjust his legs after each jump, breathing shallow against Roy's neck. Quickening his pace, Roy is relieved when his apartment looms into the distance.
The fire escape outside his window is slick with rain, putting Robin down he digs his nails to the splintered wood of the window, cursing when the water soaked frame makes the window stick. Robin laughs weakly at him from his position on the floor, even injured and disoriented he makes Roy feel inexperienced. Jamming his elbow on the side of the window and putting his weight into the next tug he manages to wedge the window open, turning to Robin he grabs the boy under his armpits but wriggling slickly, he slips Roy's grip and glares, or Roy assumes he's glaring from behind his domino mask.
"I don't need to be carried, Speedy" he puts emphasis on the name, making sure Roy knows he's not pleased. Standing on unsteady feet, Robin wobbles to the window, crashes his head on the half open sill and falls to the ground. Robin's cheeks flush but he doesn't say anything when Roy picks him up this time. Maneuvering carefully into the apartment, the boy mumbles something, his lips brushing Roy collar bone as he mouths the words.
"What was that kid?", Roy looks around his apartment, sparse but not dirty, the couch still had the clean laundry he had been folding when Robin called him in. Moving into the bedroom he grabs Robin under the legs and around his back, lowering him carefully onto his unmade bed. When he draws back two slivers of blue surrounding blown pupils blink up at him, Robin took off his mask sometime while Roy was carrying him to his room.
"'M not a kid," he mumbles, "I said, I think I have a concussion," dazedly he rubs one eye, "check to see if my eyes are even?"
Robin has almond shaped eyes and long lashes that curl to meet his cheek when he blinks. One pupil is larger than the other, slipping a flashlight from his pocket he flashes the light into Robin's eyes, one eye constricts and the other stays blown.
"Yeah, you got knocked on the head pretty hard," moving Robin's hair he fingers the bump, it's still bleeding slightly and would hurt like hell in the morning but didn't look too bad, definitely needed stitches though. Pulling the first aid kit from the bedside table he grabs a handful of soft gauze, pressing it to Robin's forehead. "Let me just go wash my hands, and I'll stitch you up."
Running his hands under the warm water in the sink in his bathroom he watches the soap bubbles swirl down the drain, Robin was only thirteen and he's already so good at this, this lifestyle, this mission. The mission as a whole, the entire good guys versus bad guys shebang. Roy had been doing this since he was fifteen and had still been play catch up to a ten year old, now three years later and he still made rooky mistakes. Robin shouldn't have had to blow up the warehouse, Roy shouldn't have needed rescuing. Drying his hands on the tattered towel, he shakes his hands twice and toeing off his shoes reenters the bedroom. Robin is leaning on the headboard, blood soaking through the white gauze to bloom a bright red.
"I don't have any painkillers and alcohol would be a bad idea at the moment," tugging off his belt, Roy folds it in half before offering it to Robin. The boy grimaces at the taste of ash and sweat the belt is saturated with, but bites down all the same. The hooked needle shines dully as he threads it, the thick black synthetic thread easy to push through the eye.
The first stitch has Robin let out a muffled curse, the skin reddening when the string pulls taunt, "Does Batman know you use that kind of language?", Robin curses again to show his displeasure. The leather belt creaks softly as Robin's molars dig in, the third stitch catching on the jagged skin and pulling roughly.
"Shit, shit, sorry," grabbing more gauze blindly Roy presses it to the bleeding skin, seconds slip by as Roy waits for the blood to clot enough for him to continue, Robin's face is clammy and pale, a light sheen of sweat covering his skin.
Untangling the thread carefully, Roy swipes his thumb over the first couple stitches soothingly, blood smearing on the pad of his thumb when he touch the rough stitching. Robin winces at the action, batting Roy's hand away.
"G'ooh 'n", Robin mutters around the belt, moving his hands in a 'continue' gesture. Eight more stitches and Robin's forehead is stitched up, a few distressed tears roll down Robin's cheek, which he swipes away as soon as Roy lets go of his face.
Robin's face and costume are smeared with blood, grabbing a couple of alcohol wipes from the emergency kit he hands them to Robin and goes to his drawers to grab them some clothes that isn't soaked with Robin's blood. The heady copper smell makes bile rise in his throat, leaning over the open drawer the smell rushes him as his shirt slips up at the movement.
He pulls out soft cotton shirts and pajama pants, he turns back to Robin. His face is cleaner now but faded smears of blood still mark his face over his nose and forehead, setting the clothes down he takes the alcohol wipe and grabs Robin's face, the baby fat in his cheeks squish together, and scrubs over the blood. Robin's face flushes a pretty pink, turning his face out of Roy's grip he grabs the edge of his costume and pulls off his top, the material catching on his gloves. Roy takes a moment to observe the boy as he wrestles out of the shirt, his thin torso is covered in bruises and when he raises his arms his ribs stick out. The cotton shirt is too big on his when manages to put it on, the collar stretching over his shoulders to showcase his collar bones. Roy looks away when he slips off his pants, but still manages to catch a glimpse of a large hand shaped bruise on his inner thigh; it makes something stir in his chest and an angry flush to redden his face. Regardless of how experienced Robin was, Roy still didn't like the sight of the bruise, of the thought of someone grabbing the boy there.
Tugging the shirt on over his elbows angrily and shoving his head through the hole he jumps a little when he realizes Robin's been watching him. The boy's gaze is intense, his eyes following Roy's movements, even injured and concussed Robin still catalogues everything, filing away information in his head. Relaxing back onto in elbows the shirt falls up Robin's stomach showing his sharp hipbones and the scrunched up pants string, tied tightly but still slipping down his skinny frame.
"You can keep the bed, I'll sleep on the couch," pulling the sheets from under Robin's body he covers the boy, smoothing the comforter over his chest. Robin's hand darts out and grabs Roy's wrist before he can leave.
"Stay with me?"
His face contorts into a soft vulnerable expression that Roy had never seen before. Eye down cast and cheeks lightly relaxed, Robin's dark eyes plead silently. It's not far that Robin can make that face.
"Okay."
Gently slipping into the other side of the bed, he makes sure not to touch Robin, sure that he is sore. Robin doesn't seem to care though, when he grabs Roy's arm and wraps it around him.
"Kid?"
Snuggling into Roy's arm, his butt wriggling as he backs up, Robin presses himself fully against Roy. "I told you, 'M not a kid."
Something changes in the air, and Roy shifts uncomfortably as the tension in the room rises. Robin wasn't a kid, maybe hadn't been one for a while. "Robin?"
Robin's breathing is steady and light, but definitely not asleep, rolling over in Roy's arms he looks up through his eyelashes, "I like you."
Oh.
"Oh."
Robin looks him in the eye, face mature in a way that Roy doesn't usually see. "You don't have to like me back," he says voice soft, like he's talking to a frightened animal, "I just wanted you to know the option's there."
Turning back around he snuggles into Roy's arms one more time before lying still, "Good night Roy."
"Good night Robin."