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The smell of smoke wafted into his nostrils, the bitter sharp scent of it making his very being ache. At least that’s what he told himself the aching was, as he watched his Jaybird walk away from him.
Just like everyone else.
It was just the smoke, as his Jaybird walked away as if he were nothing to him.
Somehow, he’d managed to convince himself it was still smoke inhalation that was the cause for the ache in his chest, spreading to the rest of his body.
This smoke was different to that produced by the flames igniting his life around him though.
This smoke had a particular stench that only few could identify.
The reason so few were able to pick out the slight hint of shame beneath the choking, bitter smell was because so few survived battling the dragon the smoke came from.
Roy had battled with it twice already.
That was partly the reason Roy pretended not to recognise the familiar acrid scent, that slowly suffocated the life out of him. He had fought the dragon and won, twice, against all the odds, but this time? This time he couldn’t help but feel that he would not come out of this the gallant hero he so desired to be.
There was a clanking.
Frowning, Roy stared at his hand holding the teaspoon of sugar. He should be frustrated, he usually was, when his hand shook so much he couldn’t spoon sugar into his damn coffee, but he just stared.
The clanking was almost rhythmic.
Maybe it was just his ears playing tricks on him, but it sounded like a funeral march.
Slowly, Roy placed the spoon back down on the counter and shoved the offending hand in his pocket, out of sight out of mind. There was sugar all over the counter now and he stared at the black coffee steaming up at him, like smoke.
He couldn’t work out how to make his coffee without making more of a mess. Jason didn’t like messes, it made him angry and he was already angry. So angry the moron was currently sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Just like their first meeting postmortem.
Sighing, Roy closed his eyes and listened to the crashing and yells in the background and opened The Cupboard. The bottle of whiskey inside he told himself was the same one he’d always had in there m, for motivation, a reminder of how far he’d come.
It wasn’t.
That bottle had been empty for a long time now.
It wasn’t that bad though. Alcohol was never as bad as what he truly wished for, what his bery bones ached for.
The true dragon lived below, its fire dimmed by being doused in alcohol, numbing the pain of being denied it’s opiate feast.
Pouring the whiskey into his coffee, Roy added milk and stirred. This time the teaspoon didn’t clank against the side so everything was fine.
Everything was fine.
Jason was back. He’d got Jason back. A little broken and twitchy but he was back.
Everything was fine.
They just had to regroup, get Jason all healed up and then they’ll be Redarse again.
Frowning, Roy played the word over in his head, and suddenly, it dawned on him why Jason had protested that name so much! No wonder he got dumped!
Chuckling, Roy wandered out of the kitchen and cocked his head to listen.
It was quiet.
Sipping his bitter shame, Roy let the tension in his shoulders ease. This was easier than the first time Jason had been this bad. The first time Roy barely knew him, had been frightened of who the Red Hood was. Now though, Roy had little to be afraid of and had danced this dance so many times he knew the steps of by heart.
Jason refused to take any medication when he got like this, when his own rage exploded and his soul torn asunder by the ferocity of it.
It had taken Roy a couple of tries before coming to the conclusion that he had now.
What goes up, must come down.
To rage like Jason did, you needed energy.
People got energy from eating and sleeping, things Jason did not do when anger seeped out of his every pore.
So Roy let Jason rage against the world.
He sat and waited for the inevitable to happen and for Jason’s energy to run out. The trying and difficult part of that task though was shrugging off the insults and making sure himself and Jason were as safe as possible.
Hence why Jason’s bedroom currently consisted of a mattress on the floor, a pillow and a blanket.
Just like old times.
Padding down the hall, Roy gulped down the last of his coffee and set in down on the floor before opening Jason’s bedroom door. If there was ever a time when he deserved a drink, it was now.
Jason had indeed crashed with all the grace and poise of a felled tree.
Still dressed, Jason lay prone on top of his mattress, blinking groggily in the dark at the wall opposite.
‘You done?’ Roy asked, raising an eyebrow when his Jaybird didn’t even have the energy to flip him the bird or tell him to fuck off. He had really burnt himself out good and proper this time.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Roy set about tugging off Jason’s pants and getting him comfortable at the very least. Jason didn’t seem to be in the mood to chat, so he worked quickly and silently with the intention of leaving his friend to heal in whichever way he needed to.
Tucking Jason’s broken arm back inside the sling for the umpteenth time, Roy smiled warmly before turning to leave. He toyed with the amusing idea of just supergluing that damn arm I tot he contraption and be done with with it.
‘Don’t. Please don’t.’ Jason rasped, his voice hoarse from yelling and his body seemed to physically shake from the sheer effort of just speaking those few words.
Jason had been so very angry.
Blinking away tears, Roy frowned and watched the man he loved cry silently, not just from his pain both emotional and physical, but from sheer exhaustion.
‘Don’t leave, me, alone.’
‘I won’t leave you, I’ve got you Jaybird!’ Roy replied automatically, tugging open his dressing gown he let it drop to the floor. Jason had always hated the feel of it and had often said it was scratchy and pushed Roy away with a pout.
Climbing onto the mattress he manoeuvred Jason so that he was lying on his side before slotting isn’t behind him, arms wrapped tightly around his Jaybird.
It was an odd thing, how much his Jaybird craved but hated physical touch, all at the same time. Roy had found that heavy, firm touches gave Jason more comfort than ones that were light and soft.
A breathy sigh left Jason’s lips and he relaxed into the hold, eyelids growing heavy and closing for the first time since the night he’d lost his family, again.
‘I’ve got you Jaybird.’ Roy continued to soothe, leaning down to press a kiss against the matted mess of curls. ‘I’ve got you.’
There was an odd sensation, and it took a moment for Roy to recognise that Jason was nodding. Despite being the one who walked away from what they had, Jason had fallen back to trusting Roy so completely. Not once had there been any suspicion or trying to push him away.
It gave Roy a glimmer of hope, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time, and it filled the hole he’d been tying so desperately to fill with alcohol.
Maybe, when Jason got better, they could start again?
Shuffling slightly to get into a more comfortable position, Roy thought about the spoon clanking against the mug and blaming it on smoke inhalation. He wondered if maybe he should be the one taking antipsychotics?
He’d fallen off the wagon, there was no denying it.
Lying here, on Jason’s mattress on the floor, holding him so tightly because Jason was terrified of being abandoned, really hit that fact home.
He’d fallen off the wagon and he was addicted, again. He was in no fit state to piecing Jason back together again.
Thanks to Bruce’s tantrum however, he was all Jason had and he needed him, was relying on him to keep him safe. To love him once more.
And there was the spark Roy needed.
The reason to cut the crap, stop the excuses, don the armour and go slay that god damn mother fucking dragon.
Maybe it was the elation of finally finding his spark again or maybe he was withdrawing more than he thought, but his future started to slot together so simply and it was bright.
He as going to get Jason better, or at least well enough to get by for a month or so on his own without anyone dying.
Clark had awkwardly mumbled about a rehab for capes a while back when Roy hadn’t been prepared to listen.
It was worth a shot at the very least, and then he was coming back clean and with a ring.
This time he was not going to lose his Jaybird.
He knew Jason could never legally get married because of the being dead thing, but why should that stop them?
Maybe he could take Jason back to his tribe? Let him heal amongst good people and they could get married there? He could teach Jason how to stroke a deer and laugh with him about how similar it was to when Roy was trying to get close when Jason was poorly.
He was pretty sure Dick was still talking to them both? They could invite him to come along too.
Maybe he should call Dick later on? Ask him if he’d like to come ring shopping with him?
A ring would be a much better source of motivation to look at than that stupid bottle of whiskey, which he had drunk anyway!
Smiling, Roy drifted off to sleep listening to Jason’s soft little snores and dreamt of rings and forests.
All he had to do was fight his dragon one more time.
Roy had fought before and survived. Twice.
Maybe this time, it would be third time lucky?