Category: Teen Titans
Warnings: Language, Slash content
Genre: Drama, Angst
Notes: Connects loosely with Trepidation.
Summary: Speedy hates keeping Aqualad's secret. Then again, he's not without his own skeletons in the closet.
Susceptibility
Aqualad had become very good about sneaking around at night without being caught. After hours was the only time the Atlantean was truly free to be himself, he felt. He could rest during the day when all those prying eyes were constantly on him. But in the evenings, when those eyes were asleep and not intently criticizing his every move, Aqualad could finally relax.
Recently, however, the black aired boy found himself unable to be at ease. Even when he was indulging in his little sin during the peaceful night there was still discontentment brewing in the back of his mind, tearing at his soul.
It had been at the Atlantean's insistence that his relationship with a certain redheaded archer remain entirely under wraps, and Speedy had gone along with his partner's desire for secrecy. The exiled prince had provided Speedy with several good reasons as to why the public didn't need to be let in on the romance: rampant homophobia, inevitable violent reactions, paparazzi, scandals in the tabloids, and the possibility of criminals using their personal relationship as leverage in committing a crime. Aqualad's fears were not unreasonable.
But when it came to their roles in life Speedy, unfortuantely, was a teenager. Aqualad was a worrier while Speedy was a partier. He never paid attention to consequences or public reaction because he just didn't care. What he did care about was Aqualad, so he was willing to seal his lips on the issue for the sake of the other. Still, he didn't like the idea of censoring himself; secrets were just little facts that people were too ashamed of to share, and he didn't like living with regrets.
Though Speedy did have one very big, very dark secret. And because he and Aqualad were from two totally different worlds Speedy never thought he would have to divulge that particularly shameful fact about himself to the other.
But Aqualad wasn't stupid. He knew what track marks were, what they meant, and how they hurt people. Every night the Atlantean would sneak into the archer's room after the others had gone to bed and would lie with him, and after Speedy fell asleep Aqualad would take his partner's scarred arm and would spend hours just thinking about it. Sometimes he would cry over it. Every few days there would be a new bandage covering a fresh puncture wound in the creamy flesh. Speedy, his lover, was an addict.
"Who's hungry?" asked Bumblebee cheerfully, balancing a massive baking pan in her gloved hands, "I made my famous beef and cheese casserole, so belly up, ya'all!"
They had all sat down to eat, dished up and dove into one of Bumblebee's most loved recipes. Mas and Menos had reached their second helping while Speedy was still chasing bits of meat around the plate with his fork.
"What's wrong, Fly Boy?"
He shrugged his narrow shoulder carelessly. It was hard for Aqualad to not notice how the red shirt now just hung off Speedy's bones lifelessly. "Just not that hungry."
"How can that be? You missed breakfast and ate a half a peanut butter sandwich for lunch." Under her accusing stare Speedy shifted uncomfortably, surprised that she had become so observant of his eating habits. Then again, one didn't have to be too diligent to pick up on his considerable weight loss and degenerating appearance. His fair skin had become ghastly; his perfect hair became a tangled mess that thinned and started to fall out. His fingernails were so brittle that they shattered when broken, and though Aqualad was the only person allowed to see them, Speedy's vibrant green eyes were now dull and dark and ringed with redness.
And for some reason Speedy thought Aqualad wouldn't notice all of this. How could he not? How could any sensible person miss the archer's transformation from recovering young teenager to this frail creature?
But Speedy, who had lived with this habit for years, was able to play off his ailment as a simple illness and left the table, claiming he was just sick. Aqualad didn't say anything then.
Aqualad rested his head on Speedy's chest; the rise and fall caused by the archer's breathing was like a silent lullaby that threatened to put Aqualad to sleep. The breathing within that chest was rattled and strained, though: not like Speedy's usually long, deep breaths.
He didn't know why Speedy had resumed his old habit. Over the scar tissue of old tracks were new ones in response to some unknown, pressing matter that he felt couldn't be resolved by talking it out with his lover. What was going on? Aqualad and Speedy had almost intertwined their lives completely. It had been difficult to adjust to one another, because the two teenage heroes were very different people. Still, they had done their best.
Almost a year together. Their would-be anniversary was in six weeks. Did Speedy think about that when he was shooting up? Was his relationship in his head at all when he would slide the needle into his veins? Did he think about how he was hurting his lover when he pulled on his red glove to cover up the marks?
Bastard, Aqualad thought viciously. Of course he doesn't. Because at the end of the day the only person Speedy thinks about is himself. And he can't even do that right.
Aqualad got up from the bed, paying no special attention to making sure that he didn't wake up his human pillow in the process.
He stormed to the dresser on the far side of the wall and furiously yanked the top drawer out. He snatched the neat piles of clothes and tossed them on the floor carelessly, feeling for anything that shouldn't be there. When his search turned up nothing Aqualad removed the drawer from its place completely and dropped it. He moved on to the second drawer, removed its contents just as before, and discarded the emptied drawer. This one landed on the first, causing a loud crash that startled the sleeping archer wide awake. The redhead was sitting up in bed in a flash, trying to make out the form of Aqualad in the dark.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Where do you hide it all?" demanded the black haired boy as he continued his thorough examination of the dresser. The third drawer shared the same fate as the previous two.
"Hide all of what?"
On the last drawer Aqualad just pulled it out, clothes and all, and turned it upside down to shake out everything all at once. Aside from winter clothing there was nothing within. Having checked it over Aqualad moved onto the next potential hiding place: the closet.
Everything was separated in neat storage containers on shelves inside Speedy's closet, so naturally Aqualad took them down, one by one, snapped the lids off and discarded the plastic tubs over his shoulder. Pens, electronics, metal bits and pieces, tools, and parts to arrow technology were piled on the floor without second thought. Speedy finally became awake enough to get his head in the game.
"I said, what are you looking for?" He got off the bed and stepped over various sharp objects to get on the resolute Aqualad. His lover didn't pause his seemingly random search to explain himself.
"Where are the needles, Speedy?" He threw the last of the plastic containers into the expanse of the room; it clipped Speedy's arm as it fell. "The syringes? The plastic bags? The white powder and the little mirrors you inhale it off of? Where do you keep this stuff that you're poisoning yourself with?"
Aqualad missed it when Speedy opened his mouth to outright deny it all but snapped it shut just as quickly. Obviously the marine warrior had gathered enough evidence for a suspicion so strong that he would rip apart Speedy's room. He knew what he was looking for, so all Speedy could do was try to get some control over the situation.
"Okay! Just stop! You need to calm down," he pleaded. Aqualad grit his teeth and moved towards the bedside table.
"You need to get out of my way so I can put an end to this!"
Speedy held up his index finger and screamed, "You are not taking away my one reprieve from your incessant hypercritical attitude!"
"I am not hypercritical!" Aqualad finally yielded his tearing apart Speedy's room in order to defend himself against the attack on his character. "I'm doing this because I have to protect you from you!"
"Bull shit! The only things you've ever done for me were things you wanted yourself!""
"So I'm the only one here that doesn't want you to shrivel up and die!"
"Yes! You are!"
Aqualad, shocked by the announcement, fell into a shocked silence. Did Speedy realize what he had just said, or did the wording come out wrong? Surely he couldn't have just... Could he have? Did he mean it?
"You want me to love you, but only when it suits you," elaborated the archer. "You want me to be myself but you want to censor what I do out in the world? You want me to wait for you to come out to the world patiently and without question! Guess what, Fish Boy: I'm not your lap dog. I'm not here to make you happy at the cost of my own freedom while you sit back and watch me chase my tail for you!"
"You know that isn't true, you over dramatic prick! " argued the other with a sure of intense emotion in his voice.
"You won't even look at me in public because you're too afraid somebody might confront you about it!" accused the archer. From the way his green eyes narrowed and arms shook with rage it appeared as though this was something Speedy had wanted to say for a long time. Aqualad fell silent. "You would do anything for me? That's a load of shit. You won't even admit that you're in love with a guy. Well, I'm sorry God decided to fuck you over by not making me a chick. Since this seems to be making your life so miserable maybe it's best that we not be together at all."
"So, what? You've been sticking yourself because you're frustrated with me?" Aqualad shot back incredulously, "I never said I was perfect, Speedy!"
That was the breaking point; the key phrase that launched Speedy into an infuriated state. The room seemed to grow impossible darker as he stormed to the bed, took hold of the top mattress and turned it over. The hulking mass took out the previously searched beside table, and the lamp that had sat upon it fell helplessly to the carpet. There was a brief flash when the light bulb cracked and broke.
Laying comfortably where the mattress once was resided the objects of Aqualad's scrutiny, with the most prominent feature among the unused silver needles and a long, leather strap being a small plastic bag with less than a handful of a slate colored powder.
"I never said I was, either," hissed the redhead venomously, "and I never judged you."
In his fit of rage Speedy threw the bag to Aqualad. The Atlantean caught it, but the seal busted open and some of the drug escaped to the floor. Disgusted, Aqualad dropped the bag as if it were a creature meaning to do him harm.
"What do you want me to say? Tell me what you want me to do that will fix this," he waved at the fallen bag, "and I'll do it. Please, just talk to me so I know what it is you want!"
"All I ever wanted from you was acceptance for what I am."
"What are you talking about? Speedy... Roy," Aqualad commandeered his partner's gaze powerfully, bringing out a name that was usually reserved for what they were in bed together; not when fighting, "I love everything about you."
"Yeah. I know you do. When nobody else is looking, at least," Speedy muttered sadly. The youth shook his head at the brunette and quietly strode to leave his own room. The door opened for him loyally.
"Where are you going?" he was asked. Speedy looked over his shoulder and sighed.
"If you don't want me all the time, well, then fuck it. I don't want you at all, Garth."
Speedy left, allowing Aqualad to dwell in his lightless bedroom with the painful feeling that those words had struck in his heart. Speedy wouldn't admit it to himself, but compared to the shock Aqualad was feeling what he had just said had hurt him tenfold.
Quick author's notes: The comic book version of Roy Harper was a drug addict. No, I did not just hit my head one day and think, "Speedy on heroin! What a great idea!" This story is a lot shorter than I care for it to be, but I plan to surpass all expectations with the third installment. Just give me about a month or so to actually write it.
And I'm partial to their hero aliases. Nyah.