A/N: This may be my OTP. Of course, I ship basically any pairing with Artemis in it, but this has a magnetic pull to it… Ah, I don't really know. But here's another chapter. I love the reviews I'm getting. Thanks for reading, guys.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all.

Toxic

"You need something?" It didn't bother Roy that Wally was asleep in his apartment when he got back from his mission. It just made him question things. What gave the kid the right to go into his private property and just sleep there whenever he wanted? He dropped his heavy bag of cans on the counter, a gift he'd been given by the nice elderly lady two apartments down for feeding her cats last week. The sound was loud enough to wake the dead, and Wally had fallen off the couch in a heartbeat. Something inside of Roy prickled at the sound of the speedster falling. "You okay?" he called over, pausing from unloading the cans that he'd probably dump at a food drive in a week anyways.

There was a "Yeah!" with a forced happiness to it, and the younger ginger was up on his feet while fighting to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. One hand with a reddish tinge to it rubbed at a tired eye. "I'm good. You good?"

The first thing Harper took in was the fact that Wally's fist was covered in dried blood. Then when the kid's arm fell back to his side, Roy could see the black ring around his right eye. A pang of guilt hit the archer, the first of that emotion he'd felt in a while. Then he could see a few bruises around Wally's neck and a bluish mark near the kid's wrist in the distinct shape of a hand. He was torn between responding with "You look like Hell" or "Whoever did this to you", but he decided on the simplest: "What happened to you?"

There was a flicker of fear across jade eyes. Then he remembered that the barrier was gone, the iron curtain dropped; they were together, something more than friends. Then he swallowed hard and looked away from the vigilante. "My dad... He hits me sometimes... I got away, don't worry." He was watching the anger boiling up in Roy's face, flushing his cheeks a vicious red like blood on a battlefield. "I only hid here because I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." He had considered Gotham, but Alfred and Bruce would've asked too many questions. Roy was cut off and quiet; the archer would never tell anyone what was going on. He had his own secrets to keep, and Wally was sure Roy would keep his boyfriend's secrets just the same.

Through gritted teeth came Roy's fierce threat. "I'll kill him." He turned towards the freezer and jerked the door open, nearly dislocating his shoulder with the suddenness and fierceness of the movement. He pulled out a few icepacks and carried them to the battered and bruised kid without hesitating. Now he was glad he kept so many on hand for his own sore muscles and such. "No one'll lay a finger on you once I'm done with his sorry ass." Roy placed a large icepack on Wally's eye after shoving him onto the couch a bit roughly and snatched the speedster's hand up to hold it in place. Another went on a cut across Wally's cheek. It would take away the redness so maybe it wouldn't be so noticeable come morning...

"Roy, don't." His voice was a desperate plea, a bit slurred only by his split lip. He could pass it off as battle wounds to the team and to his mom, but Barry would know. Barry would figure it out. The bruises on his wrists and neck looked distinctly like they were done by human hands. It was too obvious. "Let it go. I can take care of myself."

"Like Hell you can. You got the shit beat out of you by your own father, West. I won't let it happen again." He wasn't sure when he'd gotten this protective, but he knew it wasn't natural. The only time he'd been like this before was with Dick and that was because he'd had a rough time losing his parents and that he needed a friend, something Roy had excelled at. Of course, that was nearly four years ago… "Your dad is going to his grave when I'm done with him." The words were a snarling growl.

"Roy."

The archer paused, about ready to reach for his bow and arrow under floorboards and behind closet panels, recognizing that tone. Strong. Determined. Roy looked over his shoulder to the kid who held icepacks to his face and to the quickly blackening bruises that dotted his skin like the freckles on his face.

"Just don't."

On swift feet, Roy moved back to Wally and held the ice where it belonged, letting the younger ginger sink into the dilapidated couch, his tired body melting into the cushions. Roy stood over him, holding the ice. His voice broke the tense silence after a few moments "I know what can help." He again moved Wally's limp hand to hold the ice before getting up and going to the cabinets. After searching for a moment, most of the shelves empty, he pulled out his whiskey and a pair of plastic red cups. He poured a bit into each before moving back to the speedster who looked about ready to curl up and go to sleep again.

The younger took the plastic cup and looked in. A mix of disgust and reluctance flooded his features, and he glanced to Roy who was already trying to get a nice buzz going. "Roy..." The disappointment was evident in his words, but he was so tired of fighting things. His hands were bloody from hitting a wall to keep from hitting his father. The bruises around his neck still hurt like Hell. The ice was now stinging his skin to add to the assortment of aches and pains.

"It'll make it all stop hurting," Roy promised, only watching Wally out of the corner of his eye while his head faced the tv. "Just drink a little bit, nothing to worry about. You'll forget all about it." Part of him wished he had some heroin on hand to help the kid, but he'd sold the last of his stash the night before to get a few more arrows; alcohol would do for now. "Then you can stay here for the night," he said, and when Wally was about to protest, he added on, "It won't be a problem."

Reluctant, afraid, and aching, Wally moved a little closer to Roy and closed his eyes. He took a quick drink, feeling that fire. The smell of smoke clung to the air, to the room, to Roy, but he could ignore it now because he'd adapted. He took another sip. And some more. And some more. Until it was drained and he was asleep against the archer, eyes drooped shut with exhaustion.

Roy would have to track down some of his dealers and get something to help the kid, something that would numb the poor kid's ache. He'd help Wally however he could.

The young redhead only gave a pained whimper of protest when the well-muscled vigilante gingerly picked him up and carried him to the queen-sized bed in the other room. Roy held the boy close all night, smelling the alcohol on his breath and the smoky smell that was starting to stick to his skin.

He held onto Wally all night, the poison setting in.

A/N: Review?

~Sky