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Jason is in Manhattan, sure, but it’s all business. Strictly business. There’s been chatter about Black Mask operatives making shady negotiations at the Big Apple and Jason, with his ultimate goal in life of fucking up and spiting the man as much as possible, followed.
And it wasn’t in vain, three days after his flight arrived at LaGuardia and he already had wrapped everything up. Check out what was going on? Done. Crash a few meetings? Check. Beat up bad guys? Hell to the yeah. Buy useless tourist shit? He presents the “I love New York” shirt he’s wearing as exhibit A, your Honor.
So. All’s well when it ends well. The end. Finish. Fin. Hasta la vista. So long, until never.
Why is he still here, you ask?
Well, it’s not because of Roy. If he’s staying a day longer in New York that has nothing to do with the Titans Tower looming in the distance. Or the fact they’ve been out of town for the last couple of days. Or the rumours whispering they might be back sometime tomorrow morning.
Nope.
Those are all separate things, yes, happening somewhat near each other. But that’s just coincidence, that’s just life. Shit happens.
And no, the lady doth does not protest too much, fuck you.
Anyway. It’s great, New York is great. He’s having a great time, he stopped two armed robberies on his way and nobody batted an eye. He’s having the time of his life here.
Case in point: someone broke into his newly secured safehouse. And this can only mean two things; either some of Black Mask’s minions came back to try and kick him out or some of Black Mask’s minions decided to crash there without knowing he had taken the place. Either way, Jason gets to kick some ass.
Great.
The door is closed but unlocked, so he goes for kicking it open, enters the living room with guns blazing and--
“What the fuck.”
It’s not Black Mask alright.
“Jaybird, finally!”
Roy Harper is once again standing in his living room and honestly, Jason has no idea how this keeps happening. But then again, the universe does seem to like to screw him over.
“What the fuck, Roy,” he says flatly, putting his gun down, “I could’ve shot you in the face. Jesus Christ, how did you even know I was here?”
“Hey, can’t a guy miss his best friend?” Roy doesn’t even blink at the idea of being shot. That’s just how fucked up their life is. “Besides, I have contacts, you know? I’m kind of a big deal now, nothing happens in this city without me knowing.”
Jason feels obligated to roll his eyes at that stupid grin. He mostly succeeds and it comes off only a little fond. “Sure, hotshot, whatever helps you sleep at night. So I’m assuming Dickface tattled on me?”
“Wally actually. Saw you by the docks last night,” he says, “but your lack of faith? I’m hurt.”
He’s sitting on the couch, in the process of shedding most of his gear, half his guns already on the table. Jason is kind of trying not to look up to where Roy is standing by the window because if he does, he might say something stupid like I missed you or your eyes look very green today and it’s making me dizzy. So instead he chooses to focus on something else, “wait, hold on. Weren’t the lot of you traipsing halfway across the globe?”
“I’m not even going to ask how you know about that,” Roy laughs, but it sounds a little strained, a little tired, a little off, “but sort of? Not all of us, anyway. Your dictator of a brother benched me.”
Jason actually laughs at that, but there’s still something nagging at him because Roy looks tired and his voice is strained and wary, “and Wally too? Damn, what did you explode this time?”
There’s a pause where Roy fidgets and squirms under his gaze. Now, Jason definitely worries. “ Roy .”
“It’s nothing, okay? Dick’s just living up to his name.” Jason stops where he is tugging a knife from his left boot and glares until Roy finally breaks, “I swear to god, you bats! He thinks I have the plague so he left Kid Flash to babysit me!”
Jason wants to punch himself in the face. With a chair. Or maybe a brick.
Now that he’s paying attention he can see that the bags under his eyes are way too dark for his normal, his skin is too pale, his eyes too bright not to be running a fever. It’s so obvious, Jason can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.
“Roy, did you sneak out of the Tower in the middle of the night while sick?” he asks, already crossing the room and reaching to check for a fever, “stay still, idiot. What were you even thinking? Stay still. ”
Roy swears, batting his hands away, “I’m fine, it’s just a cough. It’s fine .” That would probably have worked, sure. If that cough hadn’t chosen that moment to bubble up. It wracks his lungs until he’s doubling over and swaying unsteadily way too close to an open window .
Roy coughs and coughs and coughs, and Jason guides him gently to the ridiculously expensive couch, sitting him down. It makes his chest ache in sympathy, because damn , that sounds painful, and there isn’t much Jason can do, so he does what he can, he rubs his back in what he hopes is a soothing motion and holds his hair back, away from his face.
“Just a cough, right,” Jason scowls, because it’s better than let all the worry bleed into his eyes, “I can hear your lungs rattling everytime you breathe and you’re running a fever. How the fuck did you manage to sneak out? I’m killing West after this.”
“To be fair,” he rasps out, panting and trying to catch his breath, “I’m a genius.”
“Yeah, the dumbest genius I know,” Jason says, “come on, get up, we’re going to the hospital.”
“ No, ” Roy snaps, hands flying to grasp at Jason, trying to get him to stay there, “no hospitals. ‘m fine.”
“Roy. In our line of work, this could be anything from a nasty cold to some alien poison. You need to get this checked out.”
“Jaybird, you don’t understand,” he grimaces, “people’s been nagging for weeks. It’s driving me insane.”
“You’ve been like this for weeks?” Jason says, only mostly hysterical, so he counts it as a win, because he is going to have a stroke anytime now and it’s all going to be Roy’s fault, “that’s it. We’re leaving now and I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”
“Okay, you clearly missed the point there, but get this: I’m fine. Seriously. Listen, I didn’t come here to-”
Whatever it is Roy’s about to say is lost to another coughing fit that leaves him with sweat on his forehead and panting out of breath. It’s worse than the last one, and when it’s finally over, he collapses against Jason, shivering and gasping.
The silence stretches on and on and on, like a rubber band about to snap, and Jason hates it, finds it unsettling, wrong , because Roy is never silent or still or quiet. “Man, this isn’t fine.”
A pause. Then a sigh, “look, I just need to sleep it off. It’ll be better in the morning. I swear.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Jason heaves a sigh of his own, he’s learned to pick his battles, “I’ll let you go the fuck to sleep now but I’ll call Dr.Thompkins first thing in the morning and we will do whatever she says. But if this gets worse during the night? We’re going straight to the hospital.”
Roy takes a moment to consider, but another cough passes his lips and well, he knows how to pick his battles too. “Fine. But just for the record? You suck.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry for caring, how horrible of me,” Jason gets up, helping Roy up and steering him to one of the bedrooms, “come on, up you go. Let’s get you to a real bed.”
“Fucking mother hens, all of you,” he grumbles, but gets under the covers, “I swear, is it a bat thing?”
“No, Roy,” Jason says, “it’s a love thing. Now sleep, you’ll feel better. Hopefully.”
He’s finished fretting over the blankets and is about to leave when a hand wraps around his wrist. “Stay?” And it’s so soft and quiet and vulnerable, and Roy is looking up at him with impossibly green eyes and so much hope and--
“Scoot over, but if you infect me with your germs, I’m literally kicking you out.”
Roy smiles, now that he’s laid down sleep is already clinging at the edges and turning it softer, and Jason lets him sink against his chest, shares body heat and comfort, even if his heart is squeezing painfully against his ribcage.
But his mind is still nagging at him, and he can’t sleep, can’t let go, so he asks quietly, “why did you come here?”
Eyes still closed, lips curled up, comes the reply, “needed to get out. Inside too long. Drivin’ me crazy.”
“Hm. Still, call me next time? I’ll come and get you. Should take better care of yourself. Sneaking out at 2am isn’t good. Idiot.”
When Roy doesn’t say anything else, Jason assumes he’s fallen asleep, but before he can say something embarrassing, “wanted to see you. Before you left. Wanted to say g’bye.”
“You’re an idiot, Roy.” Jason pokes him in the ribs, “but I missed you too. But never do anything like this ever again. Almost gave me a heart attack.”
There’s a quiet laugh and then Roy shifts, and Jason circles his arms around him without thinking, pressing him closer, close enough to feel the coughs wracking his body and the shivers they leave behind, but Roy hums pleased, so he lets it be.
The thing about New York is that there’s a reason people call it the city that never sleeps. Even here, on a penthouse at almost 3 in the morning, he can hear cars speeding by, sirens in the distance, loud voices walking below. They never closed the curtains, so the artificial lights from the building in the front cast shadows in Roy’s face, making him look paler, sicker, pained, and Jason worries and worries and worries.
He hates feeling helpless, hates seeing him like this, and Jason isn’t sure where they’re standing right now, what they are doing, what they are. It’s not- they’ve been walking in this tightrope, on the edge of something , but he isn’t sure , and Jason doesn’t know how to take a leap of faith; the stakes are too high, there’s too much to lose, and he can’t come up with a good enough contingency plan. Batman used to say you have to be prepared for everything, but how do you prepare for this?
So, there’s not much he can do, not tonight, not now, except take care of him as best as he can, because Roy is an idiot and Jason doesn’t trust the Titans to know how to handle this, can’t trust them to do this, not when they didn’t notice their patient hacking his lungs out sneaking out in the middle of the night, not when Roy’s phone has been silent the whole time. Clearly this new team of his is made out of morons, but then again, Jason should’ve known this, they’re being led by Dick “decided leaving Wally fucking West as a babysitter is a good idea” Grayson, after all.
Roy mumbles in his sleep, brows furrowing, so Jason pulls him closer, kisses his temple, whispers you’re gonna be fine and I’m here over and over like a mantra until the wrinkles on his forehead smoothen and his breathing evens out again.
Maybe in the morning everything will look better, and even if Jason can’t see his own phone from here, he has Dr.Thompkins on speed dial anyway and the nearest hospital is only five minutes away, less since he’s the one driving. So yeah, maybe it’s gonna be fine, he has to trust Roy to know if this is just a nasty cold, and if it isn’t, this is something he has a thousand contingency plans for.
With little else to do, Jason waits and
hopes
and
worries.