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“You know I can walk for myself, right?” Jason bitches as Roy helps him up the stairs to their London safehouse.
“Oh you can? Are you sure about that because what I saw tonight is contrary to that belief?” Roy snipes right back, he knows how Jason gets when he’s in one of these moods after a fight and he’s not about to put up with it.
His boyfriends bleeding from about three different locations on his body and Roy has no time for him acting like he’s just fine.
“Just because I tripped and fell over due to the extreme pain in my leg, which was shot by the way, while trying to get on my bike doesn’t mean I can’t walk for myself,” Jason says indignant as his grip on Roy’s shoulders for support tightens.
“Sure and I’m the friggin’ Queen of England,” Roy says as he struggles to open the front door with the hidden thumbprint ID pad to haul Jason inside.
Jason grumbles under his breath finally relenting and just letting Roy help him. Roy settles him gingerly on the couch and immediately Jason starts to reach under the couch for the first aid kit they’ve placed there just to cut out the middle man.
“Stop moving,” Roy chides grabbing Jason by the wrist and carefully moving him back to lean against the couch. “I’ve got you.”
Whether it’s the quiet truth in the words, the slight pleading tone or Jason finally just being too damn tired to fight it anymore his body finally relaxes and goes pliant letting Roy move him around to take off his weapons, boots and jacket first.
He works open Jason’s belt then pauses.
“Alright lift up a little for me,” Roy says gesturing at Jason’s legs.
Jason lifts himself with a low painful grunt just high enough for Roy to slip his pants down over his thick thighs.
“Always trying to take off my pants,” he teases as Roy works them down the rest of the way and tosses them to the side.
“Yeah, well I much prefer taking off your pants in literally any other scenario than this,” Roy says flipping open the first aid kit and getting to work to clean the bullet hole in Jason’s calf.
He presses a cloth to it with rubbing alcohol and Jason winces.
“I much prefer those scenarios too,” he says gritting his teeth. Roy keeps pressing at it with an apologetic glance thrown Jason’s way. He’s grateful to find the wound is a clean shot, through and through and once he’s wiped the blood away from it he gets the delicate needle and thread from the first aid box and gets to work.
Jason doesn’t complain or make a single other comment about not needing Roy’s help. He just grits his teeth through the pain like he’s been taught his whole life. Roy wishes he could give him something for the pain, at least a glass of whiskey to ease it if nothing else, but Jason the bleeding heart makes certain to never keep any drug that could become addictive nor a drop of alcoholic liquid in any of his safehouses for Roy’s sake alone.
He appreciates it in ways Jason will never understand, but in moments like this where his boyfriend is in visible real pain he wishes there was just a small bit of something to help ease it.
Once he’s finished sewing up the bullet hole and covered it he lifts himself up from the floor.
“Shirt off next,” he says tugging at the bottom of Jason’s shirt. Jason nudges his hands away.
“I can do one thing for myself,” he grumbles taking his shirt off using only his right arm. The blossoming bruise on his left shoulder explains the one-handed work.
Roy surveys the bruise and the bleeding cut near it, cleaning it out and then determining he won’t need to sew that up as well. His busted lip is the last thing he fixes, how that happened Roy’s not entirely sure considering the entire bottom half of his face is covered at all times in the field.
“All done, no breaks it looks like,” he says with a small smile kissing Jason softly on the lips making sure to not press too hard to the sensitive split on the right side of his bottom lip.
Jason gives him a small smile in return lifting the uninjured side of his lips up lightly. He reaches up brushing his fingers against Roy’s jaw.
“You got anything that needs sewing up?” he asks cupping his cheek lightly.
Roy shakes his head.
“You took the beating tonight, babe,” he says lifting up and holding onto Jason’s hand. He pulls it away from his cheek kissing the knuckles softly. “Come on let’s get to bed, I’ll clean all this up in the morning.”
He looks around at the room the bloodied rags are all in a trash can and Roy’s hands are clean, but there’s pieces of armor, clothing and weaponry scattered all over the place. They really should shower, but at this point they’re both so exhausted that the concept of standing longer than the time it will take Roy to strip down sounds impossible.
He’ll just change the sheets in the morning too.
He helps Jason up from the couch, slinging his arm over his shoulders guiding him toward their bedroom not even bothering with the light. He sets him on the edge of the bed and is about to tuck him in like he’s Lian practically and Jason glowers.
“Roy your mother henning,” he says shoving Roy back playfully. Roy puts his hands up in surrender.
“Alright, alright tuck yourself in and don’t expect a bedtime story with that attitude,” he says as he starts to strip down.
Jason chuckles moving quietly around to get under the covers on his side of the bed. Moments later Roy’s stripped down to nothing but his underwear and slips in beside him, carefully resting his arm across Jason’s abdomen.
It’s almost five minutes of quiet where Roy’s convinced Jason has fallen asleep when his voice startles him from the darkness.
“Thank you,” Jason says tangling their fingers together on his stomach. “For taking care of me, I know I make it kind of difficult.”
Roy squeezes Jason fingers pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.
“You’re worth the trouble.”