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It’s not that Jason hates Valentine’s Day, it’s just that he fucking hates Valentine’s Day .
It’s a stupid holiday and it’s a full day- no, full weeks - of this god forsaken city pretending not to be crumbling under this week’s Rogue attack and shoving red and pink hearts into his face with a side of disgustingly sweet lifetime movies. He has a severe case of stupid optimism allergy. Really, it gives him nasty rashes and homicidal tendencies.
So. Yes, one could say Jason hates Valentine’s Day.
Which is why he had prepared himself to barricade his door and not come out of his safehouse until it was all over. Honest, he had canned soups and canned beans and bottled water and five seasons of The Walking Dead and-
-and someone is knocking on his goddamn door. After he very carefully explained to the whole bat clan he was getting the fuck out of Gotham for a few days so no one was to even think of calling him. After he bought plane tickets to Star City. After he bought bus tickets to Metropolis. After he rented a car, loudly announcing his plan to visit New York. After he bought another plane ticket to the Bahamas under a new alias. After he took a cab, went to the airport, boarded the plane to Bahamas and then left disguised as airport security, stole a car to get to the Park and then stole another car to get to this safehouse. He made damn sure no bird would be knocking at his window to drag him into unnecessarily complicated drama. And yet, here he is, sitting on his couch and listening to someone spend the past five minutes banging and pounding, enough for the thing to rattle in its hinges.
He’s not opening it. Dick or Bruce or whoever the fuck can go to hell, the only day of the year he decides to take the night off he’s not letting anyone ruin his peace. He’s not opening, he’s not open-
“Jason, I know you’re in there.”
For a minute Jason thinks he’s having a nightmare. You know, the kind that makes your skin crawl and your spine coil too tight and your lungs ache because they’re filled with old, old memories and whited out scars and open wounds. So, for a minute Jason stands still and waits for this reality to blur around the edges, but he’s been reading Macbeth for the last two hours and there’s only so far denial can carry him.
He lingers by the door, hand hovering over the doorknob and not remembering crossing the living room at all. He hesitates, holds his breath; maybe he can pretend he’s not here after all.
“Come on, Jaybird, just. Please?”
He opens the door.
Roy hasn’t changed a thing.
Except he has, because Roy is with the Titans now and there’s no stubble and no wrinkles on his shirt and he has his life together now and Donna Troy and-
-and the same stupid trucker hat and a constellations of freckles across his skin and Jason can tell he’s gonna get a sunburn on the bridge of his nose, probably because he never uses sunscreen even though Jason used to warn him all the time how the sun above Gotham is scorching and unforgiving, and he’s looking at him with the same eyes so, so green and-
“You gonna let me in or we’re gonna stand here all day?” Roy says, “don’t know about you, but I think this hallway is pretty fucking boring.”
He steps aside, lets him inside the apartment. And there’s something so surreal about having Roy Harper standing on his living room that he blurts out, “what are you doing here?”
It comes out a little too accusatory and a little too defensive, but Roy doesn’t seem to mind, only raising an eyebrow before shrugging, “we need to talk. We should’ve talked like, months ago.”
“How did you find me?”
“It’s kinda funny because I’m here thanks to your paranoia. Well. More like, everyone’s paranoia, but you know what I mean.” Roy smiles, sort of. It’s a twist of his lips, a little amused and a little sad and a little tired. “When you booked that flight to Star City, it raised a couple of flags Oliver had put in place a while ago and he called me to ask what the hell Red Hood wanted in his city. So I had to tell him I had no idea, because I haven’t heard from you in over a year. But it got me thinking, why would you use a burned alias to book a flight to Star City? So I asked around and Dick told me you were leaving town for a while. And you were being so loud about it that it had to be a front.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all great, Sherlock Holmes.” Jason scowls and crosses his arms, “but doesn’t explain the fuck you’re doing here.”
“Could you just chill for a second?” Roy sighs, “come on, man. I just wanna talk, that’s all.”
Jason wants to be angry. No, not angry, he doesn’t have a right to be angry, not when he was the one to walk away and light up the match to burn down this particular bridge. But he wants to feel something other than hurt and raw and aching and longing. He wants, but it’s so, so tiring and he just wants to have some peace here.
He chooses the path of least resistance. “Whatever, never could get you to let anything alone before anyway. Do you want some water or something?”
“Nah, I’m good.” And Roy smiles. And Jason pretends there’s nothing unfurling on his chest, golden and warming him all over. “So. Nice place you got yourself here, Jaybird.”
“It’s a temporary arrangement.” He says, sitting on the couch as far away as he can, “just until I get back from the Bahamas.”
“Ah, so that’s where the Bats think you are?”
“Yeah. I’d say I have about a week of peace until they figure it out.”
“Wally is back so I’d say you have a week and half at least. He’s been keeping Dick busy .” Roy laughs, and it sounds a little more real, a little less strained, a little hopeful, “and since you’re on vacation, what do you say you clear your oh so busy schedule this afternoon for a movie?”
“ Roy -” Jason stops, unsure of what to say. He wants- no. No. There’s a reason he walked away that day. It’s just so much harder to remember it now. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We already said everything that is to say, anyway. So if that’s all-”
“ Jaso n.” He stands up, starts pacing, “no. We did not say everything that is to say. You said your piece, which was a load of bullshit, and stormed out like the fucking drama queen that you are, and I accepted it because I was hurting and scared and angry and concussed, might I add. Then you dropped off the grid and I was stuck in the hospital and everyone was telling me to give you some space, so I did.”
“And exactly what part of stalking your way into my safehouse is giving me space?” Jason’s pissing him off, that’s good. Easier to get him to fuck off.
“It’s been over a year , for god’s sake!” Roy doesn’t shout, but he’s voice carries his frustration before he softens again, “I know you, Jason. I should’ve known better than to listen to you. And I know what you’re doing now, it won’t work. I’m not letting you push me away again.”
“Why, Roy? Why? Why now? Why today? Why can’t you just leave it alone?” Jason feels like tearing his hair out. So much for a peaceful, drama free, day. He puts his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees, “ Why. ”
“ Why? Because you’re my best friend, asshole!” Roy pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing at the reddening skin there, Jason was right, it’s sunburnt, then sits beside him again, “you’re my best friend, Jaybird. The whole thing in that warehouse was fucked up, yes. But that was a whole fucked up situation and considering how it got started, I ain’t one to judge. You’re my best friend, that’s never gonna change. Sure, I’m pissed as all hell about your disappearing act on me. But I also missed you like crazy. When Oliver called me asking about you, all I could think was I needed to see you. So yeah, space be damned, I booked the first flight to Gotham and came here to find you.”
“ You don’t understand ,” Jason shakes his head, still refusing to look up, “I’m no hero, Roy. I can’t be. I’m done pretending I can. And you deserve better. So you should go back to Manhattan and your Titans. You’re better off with them.”
“I’m not saying I’m leaving the Titans, the fuck. I’m saying you’re my best friend and you saved my life more times than I can count, and in more ways than you know. This ain’t about deserving or shit like that, it’s about loving. ” He sighs, sounding suddenly tired, “listen, man. Let’s be real here. If you want me gone, I’ll go. No hard feelings. But I miss you so much it hurts , Jaybird. It’s just not the same without you. And I never asked you to be a hero, I only ever wanted you to be you . So, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m asking you again, wanna go catch a movie?”
This time Jason looks up, and it’s his undoing just like he thought. Because Roy is there, green eyes hopeful and sad and tired, and he’s so close, closer than Jason expected and from this close Jason can see the freckles on his skin and all the galaxies they spell. His heart is beating wild on his chest, filling his veins with liquid gold; dead and buried feelings clawing their way up his ribcage and settling on his throat.
Jason knows he never stood a chance the moment Roy Harper walked through his door.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says, “and this is a terrible idea.”
“But that’s not a no,” Roy smiles, “so you’re in?”
He thinks of the quiet ache that’s been carving a place on his chest and hollowing out his heart, the longing growing between his bones.
When has he ever been able to say no?
“I’m going to fuck up,” he warns, “I’m not a hero and I don’t want any Titans sniffing around my neighbourhood.”
“I’m gonna fuck up too, so it’s cool.” His grin gets impossibly brighter, “and I can’t make any promises, after all you know your bro, but I’ll try to keep ‘em away.”
He sighs. The path of least resistance, right?
“The fuck you want to watch anyway?”
Roy beams , “there’s this new movie, you gonna love it. Happy Valentine’s Day, Jaybird.”
“I fucking hate Valentine’s Day, asshole.”
It’s not like everything’s suddenly fixed, there’s way too much baggage for a band aid to fix, but hey, it can do the trick while they heal, right? Yeah, that’s something Jason can get behind.
With Roy smiling like that? There’s not much he can deny him.
“Before we go,” Roy stops him as Jason puts on his jacket, “full disclosure: when I said I caught the first flight to Gotham, well, I didn’t lie, you see, it just happens that it was the Titans’s jet.”
“Goddamn it, Roy,” Jason tries to glare, but it comes off too fond, too soft, too amused, “did you really have to steal the jet?”
“Well, what can I say,” he shrugs, unrepentant and careless and reckless, “old habits die hard.”
Jason laughs, and it feels real, it feels true, it feels like happiness. And when Roy offers him his hand, it feels like freedom and it feels like taking a chance and it feels like hope and it feels something like love.