AN: Let me preface this by saying I've not decided to start a new series, this is a deanon from the YJ kink_meme. It is a Roy/Wally AU, as you should have noted all ready. Updates will come every other day (there are seven total) and unlike Radix, I'll actually keep that promise. That said, let us proceed to the main event!
Première
"He really does love you Roy," Dinah and he had rehashed this conversation a million times over and still she persisted. "You're like a son to him he just, he never expected to be a dad to someone."
"Yeah well," Roy yanked open his mailbox with more force than necessary, almost letting the phone fall as he did so, "sorry to be an inconvenience."
"Roy," she said, following it up with an impatient sigh, "you know that's not what I - Ollie no he doesn't want to talk to me right now let alone you...no Ollie just-fine, yes I'll tell him. Roy?"
"Still here," Roy flipped through the massive pile of bills, newspapers and other little things that had accumulated while he'd been away for the week, "what did he want?"
"He wanted me to remind you Sunday is still on."
"Is it really? Did he call to remind me or to tell me to take note that lowly police officers aren't invited?" if he sounded bitter it was only because he was.
"Roy, he didn't mean it like that and you know it." Roy finished with going through his mail as he dutifully ignored Dinah's snort of derision and the annoyance she was actually palpably sending through the phones, landing on a post card.
"Hey Dinah," the postcard was standard for Paris, a picture of the Eiffel tower in the background and a dancing young woman's silhouette in the front. "Do we know anyone in Paris right now?" he flipped the postcard over as he spoke, his eyes landing on the message for no more than a second before realization struck.
"What? Not that I know of why-" Roy cut her off, his voice almost panicked sounding.
"I should go Dinah, bye." He snapped his phone shut without waiting for a reply and stared down at the postcard in numb shock.
"These things are awful," Roy glared down at the croissant in his hand, "they're drier that the goddamn Sahara."
"Dere nah dat bad," Wally told him through a mouth full of dry pastry and rehydrated strawberries. Roy gave him a look of disgust and Wally swallowed dutifully, washing it all down with the chocolate milk Roy had bought him. "Look on the bright side," Wally offered, "it's better than Dinah's cooking. Or my mom's."
"True," Roy continued to stare down at his school provided breakfast for a moment before sighing. "Here," he shoved the food at Wally, "you're a bottomless pit kid."
Wally gave him a huge, blinding grin before shoving the croissant in his mouth, chewing while rapidly scribbling notes in the margins of Roy's chemistry homework. "'S not bad Roy," Wally told him, "just remember that in Faraday's law the weight of any element liberated via electrolysis is not only proportionate to the equivalent weight of the element but the quantity of the electricity passing through the cell."
"Why are you a freshman?" Roy was frowning again, exasperation obvious and Wally looked a little sheepish, "this is senior chemistry work."
"Sorry," the freckled boy looked down guiltily at his almost gone chocolate milk, "I just-"
"Shut up Wally, I asked you to correct it, I'm just amazed they haven't bumped you up a grade or something."
Wally laughed at that, his sheepishness gone and he threw his last hunk of croissant at Roy. "I'm not that smart. My English mark is barely a B," he pointed out, "and come on, the bell's gonna go in five minutes."
Roy, having retrieved the piece of croissant from his lap, popped the food in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously, revenge for the etiquette lessons he'd spent all morning complaining about up until they'd arrived at the school. "Barely a B? Keener," he said despairingly, ruffling Wally's hair and ignoring the younger boy's squawk, "let's go. The sooner we get to class the sooner we can leave this place forever." He stood, grabbing his and Wally's wrappers, "and then you and I can leave behind this city," Wally brightened at that, "we'll go to Paris and have actual croissants."
"You're all talk Roy," Wally was teasing, Roy knew.
"I'll take you anywhere you need to go Wally," he said, completely serious.
Wally blinked at the promise, pausing in his movements only briefly before smiling again. "And I'll always follow you," he promised.
Slamming his apartment door, and ignoring the immediate shouts of outrage that sparked from his neighbour, Roy threw all the mail except the postcard onto the dinning room table.
Roy
How are you? Good I hope. Paris in spring smells like dog crap, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, but the croissants are good.
Please forgive me.
And that was it, no name at the bottom, nothing to indicate who it was other than the annoying habit of making his ys too thin, as if they had to be shoved in between the letters somehow. Frustration, not just at this mysterious and too vague postcard but also at Dinah and Oliver and himself welled up and in a fit of pique Roy ripped the message in half, the woman no longer staring at the Eiffel tower. Taking a deep breath he looked at the two pieces and after a moment let them drop.
