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Midnight. The witching hour. The hour where everything that went bump in the night did go bump in the night. Or at least that's how it went in storybooks. In reality?
In reality midnight was nothing special, just the change of date, New Year; a kiss if you were lucky.
No, in reality, if something were to go bump in the night? It would go bump at four in the morning.
Four in the morning was the true witching hour. There was no rhyme or reason to it but if you were awake at four in the morning, you were the only person on the planet. It was lonely at four in the morning.
A long heavy sigh left Roy’s lips and tired, blood shot eyes watched the clock toll the witching hour, the dreaded four in the morning hell he had become all too accustomed to. For three nights on the trot, Roy Harper had found himself playing chicken with a bottle of whiskey.
The first night, the bottle stayed in the cupboard, and Roy glared at it.
The second night, the bottle found its way onto the coffee table, and Roy glared at it.
So far, Roy considered himself to be winning, if you squinted. The witching hour would pass and as if a magic spell had been lifted, he always found himself finally managing to catch a couple of hours of blessed sleep before Jason was up. Sometimes that asshole was like a toddler, I'm up and ready to go so, so should you be, bad nights sleep be damned.
The silence was thick and heavy, almost as if it had turned to treacle. Roy could barely get a decent lungful of air. His eyes never left the bottle of whiskey and the tumbler that had magically appeared next to it. Roy hadn't collected the glass from the cupboard. He was stronger than that.
A pretty lie, but he soothed himself with the belief that if he wanted to believe in magic glasses then he damn well could.
Roy lasted five minutes last the witching hour.
Those damn fairies had poured the whiskey into the glass now.
A trembling hand, that somehow looked like his own but couldn't possibly be, picked it up. Roy tipped the glass ever so slightly, watching the golden poison swirl around for an unspecified amount of time. He'd lost all sense of time after the second sleepless night he had.
That was the problem with losing sleep. It shook his equilibrium.
First, his appetite disappeared and he was left nibbling on dry toast that Kori had practically forced into his hand. Then, well, time was obsolete and Roy felt like he was watching some weird ass first person film, like the Blair Witch project. Then, oh then the demons became harder to ignore. The dark, secret thoughts Roy never told anyone. The thoughts that sapped all of his energy, induced paranoia, forcing him to push the ones he loved away with indifference. Demons that poked at his very soul, his worth, laughing when Roy told them to leave him alone.
There was only one thing that could get rid of the demons. To be so high above them their knobbly talons couldn't reach him. A small voice would deny this, but Roy stuffed it down in the darkness with everything else.
The oaky, smokey scent wafted across his nose as the hand that wasn't Roy's, lifted the glass of sweet, poison. Licking his lips he could almost taste it, feel the residual burn.
‘Traitor’ Roy grumbled to no one, not even entirely sure who or what he was calling a traitor. The word just felt right, stuck in the air so thick it reminded him of treacle. Treacle had the same colour as whiskey.
There was a click of a door opening.
Freezing, Roy dragged his eyes away from the glass of whiskey in search of the disturbance to his silence.
Jason was stumbling out of his bedroom, clutching the comforter wrapped around his shoulders. Instead of the bleary eyed gaze expected from someone who'd just woken, Jason's eyes were wide and not entirely focused on reality. Limbs trembled with residual adrenaline. His hair a mess of curls from where the guy had pulled at it. His Jaybird had a habit of doing that, during one bad patch he'd left himself with a quite prominent bald spot. If rumours were to be believed, Jason had succeeded in receding his hairline, thinning it to almost nothing prior to his admission to Arkham. Today he could easily become preoccupied by his hair, constantly seeking reassurance that it was okay. Maybe the rumour mill was producing truth for once?
‘Nightmare?’ Roy asked, the air thinning around him at the sight of his best friend so disheveled and distressed.
Jason startled at the sound of his voice.
Yeah, he definitely wasn’t entirely with Roy in the living room. Jason obviously had been expecting to be alone, judging by the wide eyed gaze at Roy before he wrapped the comforter even tighter around himself. Beneath the warm, fleecy blanket there was only a pair of skewed Wonder Woman boxer shorts covering him.
Swallowing thickly, Jason grunted in response.
Padding over to the couch, he glanced at the whiskey bottle and the glass still perilously close to Roy's lips.
‘Bad night?’ Jason asked flatly, his voice deep and scratchy from shouting.
Roy grunted.
A pang of guilt shooting through his belly like a stab wound. Jason had been shouting but he'd been so wrapped up, flirting with his own demons, he hadn't heard his Jaybird scream. That induced a whole new array of dark thoughts to join in on Roy’s depression party.
He hadn't heard Jason scream. No one had heard Jason scream when he'd been locked in a warehouse and beaten to death. What use was Roy if he couldn't even ensure that despite being alone for the real deal, his Jaybird would never be alone when he relived it.
‘You promised me that, that bottle was just motivation and would remain unopened.’
The statement dragged Roy out of his own head and he lowered the glass to look at its contents before lifting his eyes to meet his friend’s. Jason’s distress was just an undertone now compared to the concern that completely saturated his expression. Jason shouldn't worry about him, he had enough to deal with, he didn't need Roy’s dramatics on top of that. Grunting again, Roy noticed something equally as concerning and brushed the comforter to one side, revealing Jason's tanned thigh. A deep, angry looking gash marred his inner thigh, still bleeding slightly and obviously had not had the medical treatment it required to heal. Fresh.
‘Yeah, well, I'm not all too good at keeping promises.’ Roy grumbled, brushing the reddened edges of the wound he raised a knowing eyebrow at Jason, who averted his gaze sheepishly.
‘And neither are you. You promised me that if I left the razors in the bathroom you'd leave them alone?’
The thick, treacle silence came back and Roy forgot all about the hand resting on Jason's thigh.
‘Wasn't a razor.’ Jason mumbled, eyes becoming glassy with withheld tears he looked over at the tumbler.
‘Please don't drink it.’
Jason seemed so young in that moment. Wrapped up in his comforter, with wide, pleading eyes focused on the glass in Roy’s hand. Sometimes it was easy to forget how young Jason was, not just chronologically, his Jaybird had never really had the chance to grow up, he'd been abused, died and then had been very poorly. He'd never had the chance to enjoy life and just live.
Swallowing, Roy nodded and pointedly set the tumbler back down on the coffee table. Looking back up at Jason he noticed how the corner of his left eye twitched. Sometimes Jason's mental state was obvious, pacing, hands clamped over his hears, shouting at anything that dared move in his presence. More often than not, most of it was kept well hidden unless you knew what to look for.
‘Sssh, don't listen to ‘em.’ Roy soothed, rubbing a thumb along Jason's thigh. ‘Stay with me Jaybird. Look, it's the witching hour, I very rarely have someone else at this time.’
Jason raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was now half past four in the morning. A small smile of recognition tugged at this lips.
‘Heh, Jaybird.’
‘Yeah. Me and you tonight Jaybird. Nice not be alone ain't it?’ Roy replied softly with a smile of his own. Unless you caught him on one of his rants, Jason wasn't a man of many words. Yet despite having Bruce Wayne among their midst his family didn't always understand what Jason meant when he just said a single word that didn't quite match the conversation. Roy never really got why he always managed to understand Jason's contribution to the conversation, maybe it was his experience of talking with others high off their faces whilst not sober himself? Either way, he revelled in the happiness that sparked behind teal eyes when he responded as if a full, coherent sentence had been spoken.
His hand was wet. Brow furrowing slightly, Roy looked down to see that the gash on Jason’s thigh had bled onto him. Oh.
‘Sit tight Jaybird. I'm gonna get the med kit. Probably only need butterfly stitches.’
Jason snorted at the word ‘butterfly’ and followed Roy’s gaze down to his thigh and pursed his lips.
‘Only, if I get the bottle?’
The demons in Roy's head immediately balked at that but somehow, Roy managed a hesitant nod, getting up from the couch to get the med lot before he did something stupid, like lunge for the bottle and down it before Jason got to him.
Looking over his shoulder, he watched his Jaybird limp over to the kitchen and pour the whiskey down the sink with a very deep frown.
There was never any deep conversation. Both too tired and just too everything to start some hack job therapy session. If they wanted that, they both had family members who would happily oblige. Instead, they just existed. Waiting out the witching hour in the hopes of catching at least a little sleep before the next day began properly. In away, the silent presence, the unconditional acceptance proved to be a more soothing balm. Roy knew he let the demons win sometimes and sometimes the craving for an escape got the better of him. Jason knew what his nightmares were about, knew that sometimes, the voices came back, the depression and paranoia hit. They both knew what it was that dragged the other out of bed at four in the morning, in the end, there was no need for words because they already knew.
Settling back down on the couch, Roy noticed that the time was creeping closer to five now. A warm weight settled against his side. Frowning, Roy schooled his expression to hide his surprise to find that his Jaybird had slipped beneath his arm and was nuzzling into him. Now his train of thought drifted away from worthlessness and he began to wonder what it would feel like to slip his hand beneath the blanket, to feel Jason's warm skin beneath his fingers. He could imagine quite vividly the little sighs that would escape chapped lips, breath hot against his pecs.
Before his thoughts could get too out of hand a more feminine moan of pleasure interrupted them both.
‘Mm, Roy.’ Kori’s voice carried through from where she was sleeping in the bedroom and Roy felt Jason's smile against his chest.
‘Roy you dog! How talented are you? Being in there and here the same time.’
Chuckling, Roy couldn't help but squeeze the arm draped around Jason as they listened to Kori’s rather x-rated dream.
‘Jay, yes, yes there, mm.’
Snorting, Roy felt Jason tense against him and he bent to press his lips to his temple thoughtlessly.
‘Heh, guess you're helping me Jaybird. Wouldn't mind that y’know? Kori is a handful.’ Roy teased but half suggested.
Jason tensed even more and a small whimper interrupted Roy's little fantasy of Jason actually participating when he snuck into their bed at night. Glancing down, he saw that Jason had his eyes tightly shut and his hands over his ears. He tried to hide the pang of disappointment, Jaybird was skittish, he acted like a sex god but it was all bravado. There were clearly some bad experiences trapped inside that head of his.
‘I hear the secrets that you keep. Doo doo. When you're talking in you're sleep.’ Roy sang with a smirk, watching Jason lower his hands and mirror his smirk. Apparently Jaybird knew the song from that weird band him and Dick had danced to back in the day.
‘You tell me that you want me, you tell me that you need me, you tell me that you love me and I know that Om right cause I hear it in the niiiight. Boom’
‘And when I hold you in my arms at night. Don't you know you're sleeping in a spotlight? And all your dreams that you keep inside. You're telling me the secrets that you just can't hide.’ Jason sang along, his voice as usual sending shivers through Roy that went straight to his crotch.
Somehow things escalated from there. The witching hour passed by but neither of them noticed. The quiet mocking singing turned into a full blown dance routine. Complete with cheesy, dramatic clutching of hearts and pleading arms spread out towards each other. Both grinning from ear to ear at their antics. At one point, Jason wrapped the comforter around his waist like a skirt which Roy then ripped off him in the Bucks Fizz style. Not being able to sleep sucked but at least when it was shared with another, it wasn't so bad.
Kori padded into the living room later that morning to see both of her boys passed out on the rug. Jason's comforter spread over the pair of them. Beneath, Roy had circled his arms around his Jaybird who was sprawled against his chest. Giggling quietly to herself, Kori pulled the blanket further over them and gave them each a soft kiss on the lips. Her smile only growing when both screwed up their faces at the contact and muttered the other's name before drifting off again, nuzzling into each other.
‘Sleep tight boys.’ Kori crooned, before making her way over to the kitchen as quietly as possible. Her boys had obviously had a rough night, it was best to let them sleep and ensure there was food and coffee when they did rouse.
Smiling happily to herself, Kori began brewing said coffee and assembling an array of comfort foods so they could just lounge around on the couch this afternoon.
There was a small whimper.
‘Roy?’
‘Ssh Jay am ‘ere’
The blanket rustled as they both fell back into dreamland.
‘I hear the secrets that you keep. Doo doo. When you're talking in your sleep.’ Kori sang softly under her breath with an amused grin.
Bizarrely, that song had been in her head since waking up this morning