Disclaimer: No cash to show for the hard work.
A.N.- This is one of those I tried to burry and rid myself of for almost three years but shotamarquis (tumblr) never gave up on me or this piece. This one's for you for pre-reading and always having faith.
In sickness and Health
Roy bit down on his lower lip suppressing the gnawing urge swelling inside him. He could feel it bubbling up, that primal need to release a deep scream. His mind accelerated to life as he watched Oliver slowly trail his fingers up into the darkness of his shirt. His thoughts flooding with ideas of pleasure moments as the older man graced the pads of his fingers across the heated flesh of Roy's torso, working their way ever higher. He could feel the slight pressure of him prying gently at his shirt with the backs of his hands. Hoping to remove the garment that was so desperately clung to Roy's body, nearly plastered to his skin with the remnants of blood that had dried tacky from the wait. He wasn't critically hurt, but hurt enough still that Oliver had insisted on treating him as soon as Roy had pulled himself all the way through the open door and into the kitchen. He hadn't thought Oliver would be home, which seemed almost stupid now, it was his home after all.
Roy fidgeted his hips in an attempt at making the counter top more comfortable. Just like he hadn't expected Oliver to be home, he had no idea the older man would force him up on the counter top until he was sitting like a child of ten before him while he poked and prodded around his wounds asking a question a second about just what had happened.
"I'm fine, Ollie. Really. You don't have to play nurse."
Oliver's eyes skirted up to Roy's face, dancing left and right about the boy's own eyes. Then as if he found something he had lost, he allowed a smile to peak past his concern for a moment or two.
"Oh, but I have the cutest little outfit, with matching hat and shoes I can wear for you,"
Pushing the laughter down, Roy sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his gaze away from the intensity of the blond before him.
"Really. You would make jokes…"
Oliver let that familiar warm sound fill the space between them, because he was never one to suppress a laugh no matter how dire the situation. It made his eyes dance warmly, as he let them linger in Roy's for a moment or two before honing in on his task at hand; removing Roy's shirt. It was like he was the original Jackal and Hyde; he never stayed on one emotion long. Oliver always fell back to neutral as if it was as normal as a winter snow fall. He was the type of man you had to watch every second during a conversation, or you would miss his reaction. As if he needed to make himself the complete center of your world, yet it happened so naturally that Roy wasn't even sure Oliver knew he was doing it.
Pain shot through Roy as Oliver tugged a touch too aggressively at part of the torn fabric that was mildly glued in place.
"Why- nnnhhhgggg -why don't we use warm water or- OW! Damn it! Oliver!"
Oliver pulled his hands back in surrender and gave Roy an apologetic smile.
"I'm not touching you any more, ok? You're safe."
But the defenseless position did nothing. Roy tried to bite back on his growing rage. He couldn't stand pain, it made him pissy. Or at least that is how Oliver always put it.
Through gritted teeth Roy spoke. "The hell I am. Go get warm water and a wash cloth or something. And stop trying to rip what is left of my flesh off with this damned shirt." But the force it took to keep up that grip on his jaw caused white flashes of light to dance in his vision so Roy had one choice left. He willed himself to relax his jaw so the pressure in his teeth would subside. He had begun grinding them in attempt to fight the pain of Oliver's less than graceful removal of his shirt so that he could get to the wounds but now, it was nothing more than a pit-bull bite, unyielding and painful and adding to the pain he was already in seemed pointlessly torturous.
"Oh, Roy you know I have to strip you before you get the sponge bath. I don't care how the other nurses do it, this is my way and I am not changing it for you. Ne special treatments."
All the joy drained from Roy's eyes. He was no longer playing nice, he was sick of the pain and wasn't going to take much more of this harassment Oliver was trying to use as a distraction from him pulling at the still fresh wounds marring his chest and torso.
"It's not even that funny of a joke Oliver, so stop making it."
Oliver's eyes danced about again as he scanned his young wards face.
"I find it funny."
And in that moment Roy; simply, forgot how to breath. The statement was so earnest, so real, that the anger he had been battling not seconds before just left him high and dry. Swallowing as quietly as he could, Roy pulled his eyes from Oliver's and looked down. His heart rate seemed to sky-rocket out of control at seeing the pleasure in the older mans eyes. He knew it was at his own expense, but some how that made it even harder to deal with. As if, some how, the thought of being the one who caused that joy felt beyond all measures of right. He forced his breath and pushed at the tight grit of his teeth, focusing his mind on the pain. The white hot pressure pulsating through his wounds and out over his body. He forced himself to delve into the pain and almost forgot about the hands sweeping across him. He was almost calm, until Oliver found a wound Roy wasn't aware he had.
"GOD DAMN IT! OLIVER!"
The older man's eyes shot up in horror at the sudden booming sound of the other's voice and scanned the enraged face staring at him in hopes of soothing what ever dragon he had just awoken in Roy.
"Did I find something?"
Oliver's eyes seemed so, dark. Masked by some level of fear that Roy didn't understand. Why did he care so much whether or not Roy was mad? Or even hurt? It wasn't like Roy had ever tried to be nice. He'd never played the roll of "good son" very well, and he knew that. Yet for what ever reason, Oliver still cared.
"Sorry- you just, found another one on my side there…" Inclining his head down as if to point to the same spot Oliver's large hand had just been resting. "I didn't know-"
Oliver's eyes swelled with understanding and he smiled, but only for a moment before he let his lips press flat.
"Roy, you need to get out of your uniform and let me look you over. You are clearly more injured than you led me to believe and I need to clean you up."
His eyes danced left and right trying to find a point in Oliver's to focus on. Knowing full well, he was doing the same thing Oliver always did to him, that he hated. Roy couldn't stand it when Oliver scanned his eyes like that. Like he was trying to read his soul through his eyes. He didn't want that, Roy didn't want some one that close to him. He didn't need some one to baby him, to care over him, fussing all the time. He was well enough off that he could handle himself. That hadn't been why he showed up here. He wasn't looking for Oliver to care for him, to clean him up. Was he? Doubt washed over every inch of his being. Leaving his eyes to search for something, some hint to an answer in Oliver. Knowing full well he wasn't focusing, he wasn't even trying to hide the darting back and forth as he moved from one eye to the next. He wanted this man before him to understand loud and clear he was looking for an answer, even if he had voiced the question out loud.
Oliver chuckled softly before averted his eyes away from Roy's desperation. The heat spilling over from his stare was screaming magnitudes of emotion Oliver wasn't sure how to take. He had grown use to Roy's bacis moods over the years. His anger, his spite, even his wit but now, Roy's eyes screamed out for something new, and Oliver wasn't sure he was understanding just what they were asking for. They seemed so, broken. Roy's eyes held such a listless romantic need for compassion that Oliver felt like his chest would explode with heartache. As if the feeling of need had gone on for so long it had exhausted him. Never in his life had he stopped to think that maybe there was something more. A method to all the so called madness over the years. A reason Roy seemed so hell-bent on making Oliver so miserable, and something so simple as a plea. He rose to his full height and rested back on his heels, still avoiding contact with Roy's eyes. Oliver wasn't sure he was ready for what seemed to be happening.
"I don't care how it gets done at this point, Roy. Just-"
But before he could even breath the last of the words, Roy had his hands under his own shirt and with an aggravated yank he removed it. Fresh blood slowly oozed its way down his skin from the newly awaken wounds, angered by their loss of coverage.
"There. Done."
Roy's tone was sharp, and seemed to hang in the air. His eyes still locked on Oliver as he watched the older man squirm, hardly even averting his eyes to toss the matted and worn shirt. Roy felt almost heartless watching blond buckle up under the moment but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. He couldn't turn back now, if Oliver really wanted to help, Roy had to let all his guards down and he was going to start with this one.
"Well, that gets the job done I suppose."
Oliver's voice was softer that before, like he could since the fragileness in the air. He always was the one who caved under the pressure of a moment too intense. It wasn't because he was weak, Roy knew, he knew it was because he feared he was too strong. That his personality was too aggressive, to handle such tender moments. He feared pushing Roy away and that ate at him. Made him feel sick inside, to know that this man was so scared to loose him. Who was he to matter so damn much?
Any normal person would have tried to reassure the other, tell them it was okay, that they wouldn't leave. But not Roy, in truth it made him want to run. He hated that others needed him. He never was the type to want to put faith in family, he had lost so many already that he just didn't have the need to want more. He liked being alone, or at least he has convinced himself of that.
