Volte-Face

I'm very attached to this story now. There are so many events I want to put in, but there's no way all, or even most, will make it. For example, this chapter was absolutely different the first time I wrote it, and then the second version was even more drastic a change. Lastly, there is a third version, which you are about to read.

About the quotes at the beginning of each chapter… they don't quite correspond to the chapter that follows them, although if you look for it there is some logic in how I pick them. Eventually, they'll make a bit more sense, if they don't already.

Thank you…
Aime Atem Itsumo- I think I like yays better... (I love that movie!)
Xment2bursX- Ah, yes, that he-has-him-against-a-wall dilemma: to kiss, or not to kiss! Well, then, you might enjoy this chapter-- we shall see!

And I know more of you are reading this! Over forty people read the second chapter, and yet only two of them reviewed. Of course, I appreciate the lone fact that you're reading this, but everyone loves feedback… right? Right?

Anyway, onto the chapter!


"I don't care anything about reasons, but I know what I like."
—Henry James

It was a similar scene, and Roy was even more riled.

"It's midnight, Aqualad," he growled, extending both arms to the wall. Garth was trapped, but he didn't seem flustered. "And I'm not in a good mood."

A haunting smirk found its way to the Atlantean's face. He looked unnaturally pale, gaunt, a ghost in the dim light. "Neither am I," he grinned, leaning into Speedy. "So let's you and I not argue. Someone would get hurt."

"Someone would get hurt," he agreed, closing the distance until only a fraction of space separated them. "So get out."

Aqualad's grin didn't fade; he moved to the side, cheek skimming Speedy's, lips at the archer's ear. "No." His fingers crept up the other side of Roy's neck and lightly wrapped around the back, pulling forward. "You know why?"

The slight touch made Speedy shiver. The feeling in his veins was new—he felt hot and cold at the same time, and immense amount of pleasure mixed with unsatisfied desire. The thrill flared when Garth turned his head to skim his lips on the underside of his jaw. Roy forced back a guttural moan and swallowed, head tipped back, breath caught high in his lungs.

"I'm staying," Aqualad continued, breath warm on Roy's neck, "because I'm a masochist." His mouth trailed down the archer's jawbone. "I want to get hurt," he specified, lips at the corner of Roy's mouth. Speedy turned his head, inclining forward the meet his mouth with Garth's, but the dark-haired boy pulled just out of reach.

Speedy felt Aqualad's other hand reaching around his neck, his fingers entwining and locking together. Violet eyes smoldered up through long, black lashes, staring into the whites of the mask, and Aqualad finally kissed his mouth. Roy felt teeth graze gently over his bottom lip and he couldn't hold back the rasping, heavy breath of lust.

He felt Garth's laugh on his cheek, but its meaning didn't register. Speedy was too caught up in controlling himself.

"C'mon, Roy," he murmured, and Speedy clenched his fists at his side. He never had thought of that voice being seductive but, god, it was hard to keep a clear head. It became even harder when both of the Atlantean's hands slid into his hair, grabbing the back and pulling. Lips traced up the front of his neck when he tipped his head back, pressing light kisses against his Adam's apple. "Take it, or leave it…"

Speedy swallowed again, indignant but quickly losing his will to resist. The hands were gone from his head now; they slid down his shoulders and chest, slowing as they crept lower. Speedy found Garth's eyes again and they were just as eerie, with a rather devilish glint in them.

"C'mon, Roy," Aqualad murmured again, the tips of his fingers slipping under the elastic of Roy's boxers, cold hands against heated skin. Speedy bit his lip and inhaled to smother a whimper. Dissatisfied, Aqualad narrowed his eyes and pressed his hands further downward. The slightest of touches caught Roy's veins on fire and he cried out hoarsely, searing need hammering against his pulse.

The sound of his own voice thrust him back into reality; Roy flung himself upright, face flushed and limbs shaking. The clarity of the dream hung in his mind and he could feel the cold hands running down the front of his torso, taunting his will with every inch.

Speedy tore himself from the bed, stumbling. He felt sore and unsteady, and an uncomfortable tautness in his lower half made his head feel foggy.

A glimpse at the clock made him stop short. It was barely five a.m.—usually he woke up at noon, or later. But he didn't want to go back to sleep, he couldn't—not if Aqualad was going to be in his subconscious again, alluring and bold.

A shower, Roy reasoned, beginning to move again. A cold shower.

xXx

On a typical day, Aqualad would be the first to wake, and so he got saddled with making breakfast. He wasn't the best cook, but he was the only one willing—or conscious enough—to actually make something edible.

But today, he realized when he stepped through the hydraulic doors into the main room, was not a typical day. The strong, sweet scent of pancake batter hit him first, followed by the greasy undertone of bacon and eggs. A moment later the stove's buzzer went off, ringing for two seconds before a quick hand switched it off.

Aqualad wandered toward the kitchen in silence. It was such a rare sight, to see Speedy awake and mobile this early in the morning. Even rarer was the sight of him cooking an entire breakfast.

He stood a few feet back, practically drooling as another, warmer smell mingled with the others: chocolate muffins. Speedy pulled them out of the oven, taking a whiff and humming, pleased, while he set them on the counter.

Roy started looking for something on the counter—it was the spatula, Garth realized, and it was laying on the counter closest to him. Aqualad reached for it, about to speak when Speedy turned.

"Shit!" Roy tripped backwards over himself in abrupt surprise, reaching back before he fell. He grabbed the corner of the stove, but still off-balance he fell onto it, forearm landing squarely on a hot burner. Agony sliced across his skin and he shoved away from it, landing crumpled on the floor.

"Speedy?" Garth leaned over the divider. "You oka—"

"Don't fucking sneak up on me when I'm cooking!" the archer roared, clambering to his feet. He grabbed away the spatula, teeth gritted.

"Sorry, I didn't expect you to have a seiz—"

"Just go away!"

Aqualad raised a careful brow, finally actually looking at his teammate. The redhead's face was pale but somehow flushed with a light sheen of sweat, and his eyes were wide, nervous. "Speedy, is something wrong?"

"No," he replied curtly, spinning back to the stove. He grabbed for a plate and scooped an omelet onto it.

"You look sick," Garth persisted, stepping around the counter to stand beside the stove. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fucking great." He cracked two more eggs into the pan, poking them as they sizzled. Nodding his head toward the steaming omelet, he said, "That's yours. Ham, bacon, cheese, tons of pepper and garlic sprinkled on top."

Aqualad gawked at him. Something had to be wrong—even when he did cook, Speedy never made things to suit each teammate. He just wasn't that considerate, especially at the crack of dawn.

Roy jerked away when a hand touched his forehead. "What the he—"

"You're jumpy," Aqualad surmised, more to himself than anything. "And cold."

"I'm fine. Go eat."

Aqualad sighed and took the omelet, scooping up a fork as well. So much for progress.

But he didn't sit down at the table to eat. He sat on the counter a few feet away from Speedy, watching him cook with a careful eye, waiting for him to speak again. When it became clear that he was too engrossed in cooking to start up a conversation, Garth took the liberty.

"Did you burn your arm?" he wondered, spearing another piece of omelet.

"Probably."

"Is it bad?" Aqualad popped the cheesy bit into his mouth, chewing slowly.

"Probably not." He took another plate, sticking the second omelet on it.

"Want me to look at it?"

"No." Roy turned off the stove and picked up the second plate and a muffin.

Aqualad deliberated while he chewed—Speedy still looked pale and unhealthy, but there wasn't much he could do. "This is really good." Watching the archer wander away from him, he swallowed. "Where are you going?"

"This is Bee's—ow, fuck!" Speedy nearly threw the plate onto the table, grabbing at his arm, clutching it to himself. "Dammit..."

Aqualad spun around, hopping from his perch. "Your arm?"

"Maybe."

Garth grabbed his wrist. "Let me see." Turning it one way, and then the other, he nodded. "Pretty nasty. My fault, sorry… c'mon, let's go get it cleaned up."

C'mon, Roy…

Speedy yanked away to free his arm, grimacing slightly but not distinctly caring about the pain. "I can clean it myself."

Smirking, Aqualad shook his head. "There's no way you can wrap gauze with one arm. And you need gauze on that, trust me."

Roy let out a slow breath, staring down at his arm. He wished Garth would just stop talking—every word brought back the sultry tones of his dream, and being close to that angular face didn't help. He didn't even want him to smile, because whenever Aqualad's lips twitched crookedly up, Speedy could feel something tearing in his chest—an aching, longing feeling that made him uneasy.

"Spe—"

"Bee won't get her breakfast."

Garth smiled, knowing that the resistance had deteriorated.

"Hell, fine," Speedy answered quickly, cradling his injured arm with the other. "Lead the way."