Work Text:
Roy fiddled with his sunglasses as he leaned against his car’s driver door. It was a shitty black el Camino that had once been Roy’s father, but was eventually given to Roy himself as soon as he passed his driving test. It was old, loud, the passenger side door didn’t lock, the air conditioning didn’t work, it needed a jump every five days and Roy loved every scratch and ding with all his heart. He called her Betty. He loved Betty.
Especially since Betty was the best wing man known to existence right now.
Mark Mardon’s hips were pressed firmly to the front of the black car, both hands holding up the hood above his head, forcing Mardon to stretch his torso and expose a sliver of skin between his shirt and jeans.
Roy bit his lip as his eyes trailed over Mark’s form as he sauntered to his own car, grabbing his jumper cables and popping the hood. Roy was sure he should have been paying attention to what the other boy was doing, but currently the curvature of Mark’s ass in those skinny jeans was much more interesting then how to properly restart a car.
Ya’know, even if this is like, the fifteenth time this had happened.
“Jesus Bivolo, I shudder to think about what will happen if I’m not at school to give you a jump.” Mark laughed, shaking his head slightly.
Both teens knew Roy would wait until the baseball practice ended and flagged down one of the players, but still.
Roy chuckled nervously along with him, scratching his neck awkwardly to hide his blush. “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty hopeless when it comes to this stuff.” He mumbled. Mark sent him a smirk, and if Roy didn’t know that Mark wasn’t interested, he would have described it as filthy. Roy flushed and opened Betty’s door. “Should I try turning her on?”
Mark nodded and licked his lips in a way that made the older-by-two-months teen weak in the knees, and Roy slipped in the drivers seat. After a few turns, Betty roared to life and simmered to a purr. Roy hummed, pleased.
After the cords were put away and the hoods were closed, Roy leaned against the hood of Betty with Mark, passing a bottle of coke (because Roy was raised to offer company, even if the setting was a school parking lot, a beverage) between the them and complained about their teachers and classwork, about parents and siblings (at least Mark did) and about annoying friends (at least Roy did). It was time killing conversation until Clyde came back from baseball practice so Mark could take them home; Roy didn’t really have an excuse. Dr. Bivolo could never bring himself to be angry at Roy if the teen was with his friends.
It took Roy a bit to realize that neither had spoken about romantic relationships, but that was a subject Roy wouldn’t bring into the conversation if he was at gun point.
Well, call Mark a Smith-&-Wesson.
“So, any reason your girl ain’t here?” Mark asked, as cool as you pleased, trying to pass the near empty bottle to Roy, who refused it with a gesture.
Roy swallowed thickly. It wasn’t like he was known for being gay, not the way Hartley was. It was perfectly normal for Mark to assume he was straight. So even if Mark wasn’t as straight as a weather rod, he thought Roy was, so there really wasn’t any hope for Roy.
“Uh,” Roy stammered as Mark watch intently. Unblinkingly. Almost predatorily. “There isn’t any, uh, girl-“
“Do you like guys?”
If Roy wasn’t such a shy loser, he’d bravely say “Yes. I’m hella gay. Specifically for you.” Ask Mark out or swoop in for a kiss like the happy-go-lucky gay side character in a campy teen movie. But life’s not a movie and Roy is a master of self-destruction, and instead of even stuttering out a hint of confirmation, Roy squeaked indigently, moved his arm so fast to cover his spreading blush that he knocked off his aviators, and tripped over his own shoelaces and fell ass first onto the pavement.
Mark’s previously terrifying look quickly changed to one of surprise as he watched Roy fall down. “Shit, man, I’m-“
“Oi, Markie!” A new voice called. Clyde walked up the small hill to the parking lot after he called for his brother as Roy scrambled to his feet and ducked into Betty.
Mark started to walk towards Clyde, then turned quickly back behind him, only to see Roy driving out of the parking lot, his aviators on the ground and the nearly empty bottle of Coke still in Mark’s hand.
In the rearview mirror, Roy saw Mark’s shoulders sag as Clyde jogged up to the elder Mardon, but Roy bit his lip and continued his way home. It was Friday, he has all weekend for Mark to forget him. Good.
-
Dr. Gerald Bivolo walked through the white door into his white room with the white hallway, expecting to see his son sitting on the white couch in the white living room watching the black and white tv. What? Roy was severely colorblind, if everything was white then possessions and such were easier to tell apart.
And frankly it made the art Gerald display pop. Roy really likes to go crazy with the colors.
But, instead he didn’t see his son in the white couch, but rather heard heavy rock music coming from the vacant garage.
Ah, Roy must have had a bad day. Poor boy.
After hanging up his coat and putting a prepared lasagna in the oven, the optometrist made his way to the garage door and knocked softly.
“Roy honey, can I come in?”
The musics volume decreased and the familiar sound of the five locks Roy had installed being unfastened sounded through the small home. Dr. Bivolo waited a few seconds to give his son time to get back to his canvas before entering.
The younger Bivolo was painting, smears of color tainting the white sheet and various size brushes were scattered about. Roy stood among the chaos, paint-stained jumpsuit pushed down and tied around his skinny waist and white-wife beater covering his chest. His hair was rumpled dramatically, the doctor knew from his son running his hand through his hair from stress, and his face was pinched, free of his typical aviators.
The teen jutted his chin to the canvas propped against the wall. There was a picture painted with clashing colors, mostly grey and bright green, with broad and heavy strokes.
“How’s it look?” Roy asked timidly, scratching his neck and turning away from the canvas.
Gerald hummed in thought and stroked his trimmed white beard. “Frustrated.”
Roy scoffed. “No shit.” He mumbled, scuffing his foot against the floor. “I was hanging out with Mark-“ ah, the infamous Mark Mardon, the object of Roy’s affection since the ninth grade. Good older brother, neglecting parents, perfect 20/20 vision. “-and, I dunno, he brought up girls and, well, he asked where my girlfriend was-“
“But you don’t have a girlfriend.” Gerald interrupted quietly, still looking at his son’s newest creation. That was a very familiar shade if grey.
“That’s right I don’t! So I told him!” Roy’s voice rose, his arms following the rise of the octave. “And then- then he just straight out asks me, and keep in mind we rarely talk-“
‘Rarely talk my ass.’ Dr. Bivolo thought.
“-asks me if I like guys!”
“But you do like guys.”
Roy’s arms flopped to his side and he threw his father a distressed look. “But he doesn’t need to know that, Dad!”
Gerald loved his son, he really did. He could care less his his only child was colorblind or gay or wanted to be a painter. He figure Mozart was a bisexual deaf composer so stranger things had happened. He gave Roy everything he could give; special glasses that didn’t cure his colorblindness but at least turned everything to a shade of yellow (pink to Roy), done! The garage to have his own space to express himself, fine! Purposely messing with Betty so Roy could have a reason to talk to the boy he was pinning over,- well, Roy didn’t know the last one, but dammit Gerald wanted his son happy, so if the short-tempered sarcastic Mardon did that, fine.
The sound of the oven beeping signaled that the lasagna was finished reheating.
“Want to have dinner and not think about for a while?” Roy shrugged. “We can watch ‘The Bad Seed’.” Dr. Bivolo tempted, drawing out the last syllable to tease.
A small smile cracked across Roy’s facade. Gerald knew he won. He might not be able to fix everything that his son sees wrong, but he can make him feel a little better. What else are fathers for?
He spared one last glance at Roy’s painting before the color finally found a home. It was the same shade of grey as Mark Mardon’s eyes.
-
“Isn’t it amazing how the weather is shitty whenever your mood is?” Clyde asked, leaning against his brothe’s back as Mark glared at the window to the grey swirling storm clouds.
“Fuck off.” He mumbled, his voice muffled by his sweater.
Clyde laughed, pressing further his brother. “Aw, come on. So you freaked out the guy you have major dumbass crush on. Life goes on!” He chuckled jubilantly. “Write him a poem or something to make it up to him.”
The brunet brother scoffed. “And what do you suggest that poem would be?” He turned from his windowsill seat to embrace his brother fully. Clyde fell into the sweater-clad arms and chest of Mark.
“I dunno.” He answered. “Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m hella bi, let me do you?” Clyde sat up with a bright face. “That was awesome! That’s some hallmark shit right there!”
Mark groaned and pushed the blond off on him and onto the floor.
-
Monday came and Betty didn’t choke, so Roy sped home before Mark even had a chance to get to the parking lot. Same for Tuesday. On Wednesday morning, Len started noticing that Roy was acting twitching, and then Hartley did around lunch.
Hartley must have said something to the Rogues’ leader because before final bell Roy was crowded into his locker by every inch of the 6’3” body of Leonard Snart.
“Whats got you bothered.”
Roy was reminded back all those years ago in sophomore year when he first encountered his friends.
Hartley has received a black eye from a one Tony Woodward for being gay. As Tony spewed slurs and laughed at they younger boy, Roy felt rage swell within him. Long story short, Roy got a bruised jaw and a new best friend for his troubles. But both Roy and Hartley were young and weak, filled with a lot of shame and neither really knew how defend themselves. Hence why Roy sought out Len.
Len in tenth grade was known for being angry and loyal, and it helped that he knew Roy since the third grade. Naturally, Len wanted to know why Roy would suddenly want to sit with him and Mick at lunch and during study hall, especially since Roy was “way too nice to be with a bunch of bastards.”
Roy figured things couldn’t get worse, jaw aching and pride dissipating. “I like guys.”
Len leaned in close, crowding the shorter boy, and shrugged. “So do I, sometimes.”
Then skinny track runner Barry Allen accidentally ran into Len, blushed and stuttered apologies and continued his trek down the crowded hall, Len’s blue-grey eyes not once leaving the runner’s form and his mouth twitched at a small smirk.
Roy watched Len watch Barry, a blatant the look of disbelief on the shorter boy’s face. Len noticed and his expression turned grim. “You don’t like Allen, do you?” He asked, voice guarded and tense.
Roy shook his head. “Not my type.”
Len smiled. “Great, then we can still be friends.” As Len walked away he yelled down the hall, “As long as he’s neh-ver your type!”
Roy wanted to die of embarrassment, but at least Tony was smart enough not to mess with Roy or Hartley after they started hanging out with the Snarts and Mick Rory. Soon, Shawna joined the group, and later an Uber moody kid named Nimbus who got kicked out a few weeks after he got transferred in.
Regardless, Len had always been very in tuned with the emotions of his friends. So of course he’d notice when Roy’s upset.
And of course Roy would deny everything. “I’m not bothered.”
“Bull.”
“It’s fine, boss. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Is that why your neck is scratched raw?” Damn that signature Snart focus.
Roy shoved his book bag into his locker and slammed it shut. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“That’s a damn shame. Spill.”
“Ass.”
Len settled a glare on Roy and he cracked. The words came rushed out and Roy was blushing the whole time, looking down ashamed.
Len waited until the rant was done, then shrugged. “Okay, the guy you like is onto the fact you like guys. Big deal.”
“He’s straight.”
Len shrugged again. “You don’t know that.”
“He dated Patty Spivot last year.”
“And had an explosive break-up over something neither party wished to disclosed.” A viscous smirk stretched across the older boys face. “Maybe he saw you in those lame 80’s gym shorts last year’s spirit week and had a gay awakening.”
Roy scoffed and made his way to the exit.
Of course, on Wednesday Betty crapped out. Every other student filed out the parking lot, happy for the day ending. Roy sat in his car, nerves twisting his stomach. “I wonder if Dad will come jump me if I call him.”
The lot was now scarce, and roy had just pulled out his cell phone when the passenger side door opened and Mark Mardon’s tall and sleek body slipped in.
Mark was ramrod straight and staring out the windshield “We need to talk.” He said.
Ah, famous last words. Roy couldn’t even protest, he was so shocked at the sudden ferocity of Mark’s words. So he just swallowed and nodded.
Mark started this... whatever the hell it is by silently reaching into his coat pocket and gently placing Roy’s aviators on his lap. Roy had forgotten he left them in the parking lot a few days ago. The older boy believed this was Mark’s idea of a peace offering.
“I’m sorry about freaking you out last Friday.” Mark started. “I could have handled it more… delicately.”
Roy wanted to scoff at the word choice but managed to keep quiet.
“It just…” Mark growled, frustrated before turning to face Roy. “I dated Patty last year, right?”
Yeah, and Roy cried for an hour after hearing about it and pushed out four depression-fueled paintings that day. Instead of saying that out loud, Roy just nodded.
“After a while I realized that, yeah I liked her, but I also like you.” Roy choked up a bit as Mark swallowed thickly and grabbed Roy’s hand. “I liked you a hell of a lot more than I liked her and when I came out and told her I liked men too she broke up with me and I figured ‘Hey, no problem, I don’t need people like that’ and- and I was gonna wait a while before I tried anything with you-“ oh god, Roy’s face was on fire right now, “-but I didn’t know if you liked guys or no-“
“I’m gay.” Roy blurted, unblinking and under the smoldering gaze of Mark. “I’m really really gay, I’ve been gay since, like, second grade and-“
“Can I kiss you?”
Everything was going way too fast and they literally just came out to each other minutes ago but holy shit Roy’s wanted this since he was fifteen and Mark and Patty broke up because of him, and if that wasn’t a confidence booster-
Roy gave a single jerky nod and Mark pounced.
There was a lot of teeth, and Roy’s inexperience showed, and the angle was awful. But Mark’s lips were chapped and warm his his hands pulled Roy closer by the neck, and Mark sighed like he was the one begging for this since the cusp of adolescence. And holy shit this would be the best kiss Roy will ever have.
Mark’s hand fell between Roy’s legs and past the seat, and the seat slide back. Now with the extra space, Mark climbed onto of the other boy, his knees encasing Roy’s thighs. The angle was much better, Roy only having to strain his neck up a little as Mark practically devoured him, smothering him in warmth and a feeling of electricity.
Finally Roy got the nerves to bring his hands to Mark’s hips, the pads of his thumbs rubbing against the smooth skin of Mark’s exposed hipbone. Roy opened his mouth a sliver, and right as Mark was about to take the invitation, some asshole knocked on the drivers window.
Mark tore away from Roy and threw the door open, looking pissed at his baby brother. Roy scrambled to slip his glasses on, to give himself a semblance of aloofness, to distance himself. Mark scowled.
“What Clyde?” He barked.
Clyde laughed long and hard, holding his side dramatically and nearly fell to his knees. Roy was really too dazed to notice, still staring at the scruffy image of Mark and his kissed-red lips.
“As much as I hate to interrupt,” Clyde started, “I really need to shower. So, I dunno, plan a date or something.”
Mark started to leave the car and yell at very jovial Clyde, pushing the sophomore towards Mark’s Jeep. Roy shifted and scratched at the blush on his face, sliding the seat foreword again.
When he was about to start Betty, a pair of hands caught his face, knocking off his glasses again. Mark swooped in for a longer, gentler kiss that made Roy forget how to breath.
“Friday. After school.” Mark said as soon as he pulled away, his words vibrating against Roy’s lips.
“Wha-“
“Our date.” Mark interrupted, smugly. As he walked away from Roy, all dazed and confused, he ended the exchange with a snark phrase. “I’m gonna make the little bastard walk home. We’ll take my car.”
Clyde shouted protests from the Jeep, Mark threw Roy one last signature smirk, and the last two working brain cells in Roy’s head finally remembered how to breath.
Roy smiled stupidly at the retreating form of the older Mardon brother.