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It’s Garth first. Which is weird, because Roy’s been flirting with Donna since they all met and Dick’s unsure he’s ever seen Roy and Garth hang out alone together.
It’s a good moment, though, a rare decisive win over Dr. Light, and Roy sends one celebratory arrow shooting after his retreating form and then grabs the nearest person to plant one on them. Garth smiles into it, and they part with whoops and grins.
Donna and Wally can’t stop laughing. Dick is blinking rapidly, trying to resolve the colors and shapes in front of him into an image that makes any sense.
“Titans,” he says, using the serious leader voice he’d mortifyingly practiced a lot as a child in imitation of Batman. “Back to the tower, mission debrief.”
There’s a general grumbling among the group, but it’s only Roy who actually pipes up.
“Hey, short-pants. Who said we were done here?”
He throws an arm around Garth again, pulling him in for a more obnoxious, wet kiss. Wally’s laughing so hard he’s starting to tear up.
“Speedy, KP for the duration of your stay.”
Roy detaches from Garth to give him a withering look. “Don’t worry, birdie. Just passing through.”
He slaps Garth on the back, then starts leading the group of them back to the car.
Batman's got the easy team. No way Green Arrow and Aquaman are making out in that conference room.
--
Donna makes sense.
That’s what Dick reminds himself. She’s the only girl on the team, and she’s beautiful. Roy’s the most outgoing of them, and he’s attractive, objectively. he's liked Donna since they met. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion.
Watching them make out on the couch at Titans Tower, though, Dick could do without.
He’s just trying to watch a movie with his friends, but ten minutes in Roy’s got Donna practically on his lap. Five minutes later, they’re wrapped up in each other like a damn soft pretzel.
Wally and Garth hardly seem to have noticed it. They don’t return the commiserating glances Dick’s trying to shoot their way.
When he hears one of them honest to God whine (and he’s not doing any thinking about who that came from, thanks), Dick snaps. “Gee, Roy, it’s always so nice to have you here to hang out. Definitely not just to suck face with your girlfriend.”
Roy pulls back, not missing a beat. “Dickie, one day soon your balls are gonna drop and then I’ll find a real nice girl for you to ‘suck face’ with.”
He knows he’s blushing, which is mortifying. Roy’s always quicker on the draw than him, and he cuts deeper. Dick’s alright at quips, when the situation calls for it, making silly cracks at villains while Batman stares at them menacingly. But Roy never pulls punches, and it knocks Dick off balance.
“You're right, Speedy, I'm being unfair. You actually only come around when Green Arrow's run off and left you behind again.”
The comment lands hard. He doesn't feel good about it pretty much as soon as it leaves his mouth. Garth winces, which is always a bad sign.
“Alright, Dickhead, you can get off the couch and—”
Donna gives them both a glare that’s more effective than any words. “If you’re angry with Roy, you should be upset with me too, Robin. And he’s not my boyfriend.”
Roy’s shoulders deflate, losing their angry tension, due to what part of the statement he’s not sure. Doesn’t matter, Dick’s still getting a glare from Donna that he’s more inclined to address.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m overreacting. Can we just watch the movie?”
Donna smiles softly, placated. “Yes, thank you, Dick. Roy and I will practice a little more restraint.”
Roy wraps his arm around her waist tightly and whispers something in her ear that sounds like “I’ll show you restraints.” Dick has already lost the war.
A couple times, he catches Roy glancing at him, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. Roy probably deserves an apology, but Dick’s never opened his mouth to talk to Roy without making things worse. He tries to avoid noticing the strain in Roy’s face.
--
Roy doesn’t come around for a while.
It’s not like the rest of them are together constantly. They have individual responsibilities, their own cities and mentors. And Roy’s always been the most independent of them. But it’s getting to the point that it’s odd, even for him.
Dick had attempted to probe Donna for information sensitively. Maybe they’d broken up. She seems unconcerned, though. “Dick, I told you. Roy was never my boyfriend. And Speedy’s always busy.”
Wally and Garth confirm that he’s gone dark on them all.
Dick is so far from their ideal olive branch it’s honestly laughable. A greeting card would be more personally tailored. A pizza delivery. One of those singing telegrams.
The problem is, he’s the one who gets the opening, when he sees Oliver Queen and his ward Roy Harper heading into the Wayne Enterprises Something Something Benefit Gala.
And he might not be perfect for the job, but he’s not about to let his team suffer for it. When he sees an opening, Oliver distracted and Roy lingering by the refreshment table, he walks up to him and says, quietly, “bathroom.”
Once he’s in a single person bathroom by himself, pacing, he actually feels pretty silly. Who does he think he is, a teenage James Bond? Clandestine bathroom meeting at a gala, whatever. Roy was probably in the ballroom eating cheese and chuckling at what an idiot he was.
He waits longer than he can strictly be proud of before he hears a familiar knock combination sound on the door, opening it on a relieved exhale.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he admits, making space for Roy to step in the room with him then locking it behind him.
Roy quirks an eyebrow at him. “Dick, there’s at least six single bathrooms in this place. Give a guy directions next time, how about?”
Dick’s blushing again. Roy has that impact more than he’d like; he needs Batman to review facial control with him.
Roy leans back against the sink, crossing his arms in front of him and looking as at home in the compact bathroom as he does in every space he occupies.
“My bad,” Dick apologizes, but he’s losing his grip of what he’s sorry for. Roy’s really filled out since the last time he saw him wear a suit. His arms are much more defined. Can’t have a loose fitting suit, of course, not young playboy Roy Harper.
“Breathe, Rob. It’s not a big deal.”
Dick glares. “Names, please.”
Roy rolls his eyes. “Okay, Richard. So, you bring all the girls back to your fancy bathroom?”
Oftentimes, the best way forward with Roy was to plow through instead of letting him weigh you down in jokes and misdirection. “Why have you been avoiding us?”
He watched Roy’s eyes lose about 10% of their easy composure.
“Well,” he says, still aiming for nonchalance, “I don’t like to overstay my welcome, contrary to popular belief.”
Dick huffs. “That’s silly. You’re a valued team member.”
Roy groans, pushing off the counter and further into Dick’s space. “Alright, cut the shit. You may want to keep the team together, but you don’t like me. And Donna’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t have much need for me outside of some fun. I’m pretty sure Wally blows out his birthday candles every year to the image of me falling off a cliff.”
It’s a serious set of accusations, but the final mental image is so funny that a small chuckle escapes Dick. He’d like to turn it into a cough, but Roy’s too quick and too close. Thankfully, he just smirks in response, losing a little bit of aggression.
“And well. I guess Garth’s just an alright guy, actually.”
Dick laughs again. “One out of four, could be worse.”
Roy rolls his eyes. He’s starting to move back, like he’s ready to let go of the point and excuse himself. Dick grabs his arm. “Okay, hold on. Roy, I know I was out of line last time I saw you. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for all the other dumb stuff I’ve said to you, which I’m sure is a lot. I do like you, though. You’re pretty much the funniest guy I know, which you can’t tell Wally. And you’re – confident, and fun to be around, and dependable when it really comes down to it. I’m proud to be on a team with you.”
Roy starts to soften further, less giving up and more settling in. Dick’s unfortunately still talking.
“And you know, you’re also walking behind me at every moment, waiting to undermine my authority. But honestly, you probably should, you pretty much deserve it more than I do and I’m horribly under-qualified to lead a team—”
Roy, still close, reaches up a hand to put a finger on Dick’s lips, an implicit “shhhh.”
Nonsensically, Dick nods, like he’s been spoken to aloud.
“Alright, Dick, I get your point. And don’t tell anyone I said this, seriously, but the team wouldn’t be shit without you. You’re the smartest, bravest, most competent idiot I know.”
Dick smiles a little. Against Roy’s finger, which is still on his lips.
He opens his mouth to say something, but that presents another problem, which is that it puts Roy’s finger right against his open mouth. Suddenly, Roy’s eyes are quite fixated on said mouth. Before Dick has the chance to say something silly, maybe “Sorry for having a mouth,” Roy moves his finger to press down against Dick’s bottom lip.
His eyes go wide. It’s unexpectedly … affecting, Roy’s finger pressing into his plush lip. He doesn’t dare move.
Roy does, though. He slips his finger into his mouth, and Dick licks it maybe instinctively. He’s staring at Roy’s eyes while Roy’s staring at his lips, and It’s kind of intoxicating. Roy slips his finger further into Dick’s mouth, like maybe he wants Dick to suck it, like maybe he wants Dick to –
Then, mortifyingly, unintentionally, Dick moans.
Roy pulls back with such speed Dick barely tracks the motion. He’s wiping his finger on his pants, smiling like nothing. “Alright, birdie, I’ll be back to the tower soon, I promise. Warn the kids.”
Dick is so startled that he barely manages an affirmative response. He stands in the bathroom for several minutes after, silently freaking out.
--
Roy makes good on his promise, showing face in Titans Tower again the next weekend. He’s his usual charming, irreverent self, plus he’s brought along a case of some horrible beer.
Dick tries a sip, on nudging from the others, but it tastes awful and he doesn’t really drink. Doesn’t like to be out of control of his own mind and body.
Wally, Garth, and Roy, however, have no similar reservations. Getting drunk is a hard achievement for a speedster’s metabolism, but Wally makes a real go of it. Garth and Roy are tipsy and red cheeked, singing along to a record.
Dick settles next to Donna on the couch, away from the kitchen revelry. She’s looking at the others, although her focus is unclear.
“He has a harder time than he’d like us to know.” Donna says. It’s irrelevant to ask who she’s talking about; Dick’s never played dumb with her.
“He thought I hated him,” he replies.
She nods. “I thought so. I wanted to tell him you didn’t, but honestly, I wasn’t sure.”
Dick looks at Roy again, arm slung around Wally’s shoulders crooning Billy Joel. “No,” he says, breath coming less easily. “I don’t really hate him at all.”
Donna taps him on the shoulder. “Maybe you should tell him that.” Louder, for the room, she announces, “I’m going to sleep.”
Boos come from the table. Dick happens to catch Roy’s bright eyes, and he hesitantly smiles.
--
Dick’s normally a solid sleeper, but once in a while, he dreams of falling, breaking, cracking, and then he has to get out of bed and remind himself he’s in the real world for a time. He wakes up sweaty in his bed at the tower, and instantly heads for the kitchen. A glass of water, probably, and a run around the rooftops if he can’t manage to shake it. The middle of the night is the ideal time for that sort of fun, anyway.
He steps out of his room to find that he’s not alone in being awake. Roy and Wally are still in the living room. He seems the backs of their heads on the couch first, and starts to walk forward. Company wouldn’t be bad in this sort of moment.
Before he’s announced his presence, though, the heads turn towards each other. And then they’re kissing, just the two of them, tenderly making out and Roy’s putting his hand on the side of Wally’s face to hold him securely.
Jesus.
Dick walks backward with bat silence, opens his door and closes it again. He can go out from his window, all his gear is here anyway. It’ll be a good night to explore.
It’s small comfort that instead of his nightmares, the images flicking behind his eyelids as he runs and swings through the city are of gently held faces, and eyes trained on his lips.
--
Roy kisses everyone. It’s a fact of life, a constant of the Titans and probably plenty of other groups.
Except for Dick.
It’s not surprising. Dick is the stick in the mud one. He’s not fun, or exciting, or particularly sexy. He’s good looking enough, he figures, as he’s growing into something more like a young adult than a boy, but he’s no Donna.
He’s no Wally, apparently.
The next few days, Dick keeps waiting to catch them again, or have them bring it up. Surely, they’ll tell everyone they’re dating eventually. It’d be dishonest to leave the team out of it. And he's sure they must be dating. It’d been nothing like with Garth, or even Donna. Gentle, not brash. Private, not exhibitionist.
It never comes up, and he never catches them again, even as he tiptoes past their rooms for signs of double occupancy.
A few nights later, he’s doing his check for them when Roy opens his door and almost runs face first into him. Bingo.
Roy looks startled, a face Dick rarely gets the chance to see him make. It’s a fun change, considering he’s usually the one keeping Dick on his toes.
“Oh, sorry,” Dick says. “Was just, heading to the bathroom.”
Roy nods. “Okay. It’s that way.” He gestures in its general direction, which does happen to be the opposite of the way Dick had clearly been walking.
Whatever. He’s not the one with a secret. “Going somewhere?”
Roy raises his eyebrows. Despite his tired bleariness, he seems to be regaining the high ground. “Well, I was thinking I might get some water and watch some late-night TV, officer. You got any cause for these questions?”
Dick rolls his eyes. Roy’s great at deflection, smooth as anything.
“So,” Dick probes, “You weren’t going to someone’s room?”
The way Roy’s eyebrows shoot up seems instinctual and instant. Dick would be hard pressed to call it rehearsed. “Uh, well, birdie, my not ex has been my not ex for a second now, and I don’t think there are any other interested parties in the tower, so—”
Dick groans. He backs up til he can bump his head into the wall, not heard enough to sustain damage but enough that he’s grounded. “I know about you and Wally, you dumbass.”
Again, with the eyebrows and the sincere face. “Sorry. Wally West? Do we know another Wally?”
He can’t believe Roy’s this good at lying. He’s reanalyzing at least five interactions they’ve had before, considering whether Roy had been getting things over on him this entire time.
“I saw you kiss him! It was like 5 days ago, you can’t actually have broken up by now, nobody moves that fast.”
They stare each other in the eyes for a second, then Roy starts shaking his head. “Dickie. Can we talk in the kitchen, where we won’t wake every single person here to join our conversation?”
Dick sharpens his gaze. Sure, hide from everyone, Roy. Typical, Roy.
Instead of waiting for an affirmative, Roy rolls his eyes and walks toward the kitchen, leaving Dick sulking in the hallway with no option but to follow him.
When he does, he sees that Roy’s putting the kettle on.
“Didn’t know you liked tea,” Dick says.
“Don’t really,” Roy says, his back to him. “You do, though.”
He doesn’t know what to say in response, so he just doesn’t speak. He sits at the kitchen counter instead, watches Roy watch the kettle then steep the tea (chamomile, relaxing and familiar). When they make eye contact again, Roy’s got two mugs of tea in hand and Dick’s feeling very stupid.
“I’m sorry. You’re not required to tell me if you’re dating Wally, it’s not my business. I shouldn’t have been spying.”
Roy sips the tea, nods agreeably. Goes to the fridge to get some milk.
“Robin, I’m gonna say this once. I’m not dating Wally. I kissed Wally because he’s my friend, much moreso than I realized, and because he told me he’d never kissed anyone and I thought it’d be nice if I could be that. A person's first kiss ought to be somebody nice. That’s the only time we’ve done anything. Okay?”
Dick nods, numbly. Sure, Roy kissed Wally because he’s his friend. Kissed Garth because he’s his friend. Kissed Donna, plenty of times, as his friend. It’s not hard to put the pieces together.
He takes another sip. “Alright, I understand. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot that way, it was inappropriate. We’re teammates. I shouldn’t meddle regardless.”
He’s about to get up, carry the tea back to his room to collect some of his dignity and stop being bizarrely invested in Roy’s love life. They’re hardly friends.
Roy stops him. “Hold on, okay. Can you just tell me what you’re thinking and not saying. You’re thinking it really damn loud, and I wanna know what I did wrong here.”
He’s not a coward. He’s Robin, and he’s the leader of this team. He can have enough guts to state facts, at least.
“I’m the only one you don’t, uh.” It feels so immensely ridiculous, now that he’s saying it out loud. He wants to address his words to the ceiling, but he’s going all in on the not a coward business.
He looks Roy in the eyes. “I’m the only one you don’t kiss. It’s dumb of me, I’m sorry. We’re not close the same way you are with the others, and in many ways that’s my fault. I had my feelings a little bit hurt, and I let it make me behave weirdly to you. I’m sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
For the second time, he starts to get up, but is stopped short by Roy. “Wait, no. I might be more confused now, actually. We’ve never kissed because you don’t—you don’t want to, Rob.”
Dick stares at him. He’s pretty sure that’s an impossible assumption for Roy to make, considering how he’d come on to him, mortifyingly, at the gala a couple weeks ago. But Roy’s eyes spell unfiltered sincerity. They don’t fool him as easily as they used to.
“Roy, you ran out on me at the gala because I, uh. Made an advance on you.” The tips of his ears burn. There’s gotta be some way to mentally suppress the urge to flush. He’s really going to ask Bruce about it next time he sees him.
Roy laughs without much mirth, shaking his head. “Dickie. I ran out on you because I was about to come on to you, but I knew you didn’t want it.”
Dick casts his mind back to that night, Roy’s eyes locked on his lips. The evidence is there, he’d just considered the variables incorrectly. And so had Roy, clearly.
“You’ve decided a lot about what I want without ever asking me,” he says.
Roy walks around the counter towards him. “Dick, help me out here. You’re not that type, you say it constantly. You only want it when it’s real, flowers and Sunday mornings and whatever. And you barely even like me.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I like you plenty.”
Roy looks his face over, like he’s seeking tells. “Don’t have any,” Dick says, knowing he’ll follow.
“Oh, sure you do,” Roy says, regaining a little bit of his confidence as he steps unerringly closer to Dick. “Do you want me to kiss you, Dick?”
His cheeks heat up, invariably.
“There we go,” Roy muses, reaching a thumb out to stroke along one of them. “I think I’m starting to get it.”
Roy leans down and kisses him.
--
Dick would never have the indecency to make out with Roy all the way through movie night, unlike some unnamed individuals. According to Wally and Garth, however, sitting on his lap and arguing opposite perspectives on the movies for the duration is perhaps more offensive.
“Well,” Roy says, coyly tipping Dick’s jaw towards him, “If you’d prefer it—”
Dick decides to give him this one. For the sake of the team.
“Come on, please. My virgin eyes!”