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Roy surveyed the bar before making his way in. It had a good size crowd, active but not boisterous, amiable but not overly friendly. Definitely the kind of place he could drink in without having to worry about getting pulled into an unwelcome conversation, or a fight. More importantly, there was an open spot at the bar… next to a beautiful woman.
He moved to take the spot quickly before anyone else realized their mistake at not taking it and ordered a drink. Again, the universe seemed to have blessed him because the bartender hadn’t been paying attention and had set his drink down so close to the woman’s drink it was almost touching hers. He waited a beat then reached for his drink at the same time as the woman, which he may or may not have been, but totally was, intentional. She yanked her hand back like she was afraid he’d snap at her. “Sorry.”
He shot her his most charming, winning smile. “No, it’s completely my fault. I should have been watching where I was reaching.” He took a sip of his drink to give her a chance to do the same or turn away if she had absolutely no interest, he couldn’t be the only one who had hoped to avoid conversation that night. He had changed his mind as soon as he saw her, but that didn’t mean she had.
When she continued to smile in his direction, he took it as an invitation to continue. “My name is Roy,” he started, leaving a lull for her to fill in.
Instead, she hummed and held her drink up to toast him. “Roy, what a beautiful name.”
He snorted. Not the response he was expecting, but he had always appreciated a bit of snark. “Right. Something I hear all the time. How beautiful and completely not red neck my name is.”
She smirked at him but quickly schooled her expression into faux seriousness. “That’s good to hear. You should hear it often. Everyone should be told they’re special.”
“I would love to say that about your name,” he coaxed gently.
She shrugged; her eyes darted away as she took another sip. “I’ve heard it before. I don’t need to hear it again. I’d rather hear about something I control, that I did.”
He nodded, pulling back slightly. That was a feeling he could understand. He wasn’t a fan of false flattery either… okay, maybe he was a fan of it from women he wanted to hook up with, but not from people he wanted a real relationship with and clearly, this woman wasn’t interested in sycophancy. “That’s fair.” So, tell me what it is that you do.”
She snorted and raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” he nodded confidently. He turned toward her to prove she had his full attention and waited patiently until she responded.
She looked him over appraisingly, like she wasn’t quite sure if he was worth the distraction from her drink. “You first.”
Her voice held a hint of challenge that Roy simply could not back down from. Well, he could, but where would the fun be in that. “I’m a CIA agent,” he announced dramatically.
She rolled her eyes but then leaned closer. “Ooohhh, an overt agent.”
He grinned and waved his hand dismissively while he took another sip. “Secret agents are so Cold War.”
“Tore down the walls and the secrets,” she hummed.
His smile widened impossibly broader and clinked his glass to hers. “Exactly! How about you. What do you do?”
She narrowed her eyes as she thought how to respond, but her lips quirked up in amusement and he knew she wouldn’t refuse. “Create art,” she finally answered. Roy nodded as he took in her response. Again, not the response he’d been expecting. He’d been expecting something snarky, but he couldn’t be upset about the honesty. He started to respond but she continued before he could get a sound out. “… and chaos. More chaos than art if I’m being honest.”
He barked out a laugh and watched as she tipped her glass up to finish the last of her drink, her lips still quirked up, evidence that she was entirely too entertained with herself, which just made him want to draw her out more. But when she turned back to face him, he could see it on her face, that she was going to end their time together. He wasn’t willing to let her do that though. Not yet. Talking with her was the most fun he’d had in quite a while, and he really wanted to continue it. “Let me buy you a drink.”
She eyed him amusedly then hummed and leaned back in her chair, eyes darting away an almost guilty look flashing across her face. “I don't think that's a good idea.”
“Why not?” he asked. His voice was kept intentionally light, non-accusatory, non-demanding. He was having fun and he wanted to keep having fun not pressure her.
She kept her eyes on her glass as she responded, but her body continued to face him. “Might give you the wrong idea.”
“Oh? What idea is that?” Again, his tone teasing and light.
She continued to watch the glass in her hand as if it might answer the question for her. When no answer came forth after a full minute, she finally spoke up. “That I'm looking for a relationship.” He took a beat to register what she said. He had loved their interaction so far and would love to try for a relationship, but he was also willing to take whatever she was willing to give him.
He opened his mouth to offer something less serious, but she cut in before he could. “Or a situationship,” she continued, as if she could read his mind. He bobbed his head to the side and opened his mouth again, but she cut in yet again. “Or a one-night stand.”
He chuckled and nodded. Message received crystal clear. She was not interested in him. But he still wanted to give one last push. “And you're not?”
“I'm not. Not right now. Not yet,” she answered quietly.
He nodded and looked away to mask his disappointment. When he looked back, any remaining disappointment dissolved. Her eyes had unfocused, a flash of something close to the haunted look he was all too familiar with appeared and was gone almost instantaneously. It was that look that convinced him she really did mean what she’d said. It wasn’t him. She was working through something on her own, but damn if he didn’t want to help her get through it and lose that haunted look. “How about a non-committal drink? No expectations, not even to talk. Just to make your night better. I'll even walk away while you drink it.”
“No. I'm not ready for that either,” she finally returned her sad eyes to his. “But thank you, sincerely. You should stay. I’ll walk away. I wasn’t planning on being out long tonight anyway.”
Seeing the troubled look full on was harder than he expected, doubling his desire to make her smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you off. I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I tend to talk without thinking… if I’m being honest, I do a lot of things without thinking. It’s not uncommon,” he joked.
If nothing else, he could walk away feeling like he’d taken a step toward his goal, because her mirthless look dissolved into giggles. “You absolutely did not… scare me off that is,” she assured him genuinely. She took a moment to think about it, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. “Or come on too strong. In fact, you have been the highlight of my night, month… past few actually. I’ve really enjoyed talking with you.”
“I’d give you my number for when you are ready… but I get the feeling you’re not ready for that either,” he offered. There was a bit of hope in his gaze, her giggles earlier had been a good sign, but likely not enough. Healing was never easy even for the healthiest people.
Her smile dampened, but she kept her eye contact, not shrinking from him this time. “No. But I do hope you have a good night.”
He reached out like he was going to pat her arm but pulled back at the last moment and patted the bar instead with a mirroring smile. “You too, beautiful.”
He shifted his eyes to his glass to remove any pressure or make her leaving awkward. And yes, he knew he should have shifted his body from facing her as well, but he didn’t want her to think he was dismissing her, leaving him in this awkward position, body open and face diverted. If Oliver could see him, he’d be appalled at his lack of vigilance while leaving himself so open. To be clear, he could still track movement around him, in fact, better than if he had fully turned to the bar, but Oliver never lost a chance to lecture him.
He didn’t regret the decision though, because from his periphery he could see her stand then hesitate, almost sitting back down, which got his heart racing at the possibility, but ultimately she pushed away from the bar only to pause so a crowd of people could pass. He consciously forced himself to stop registering her movements and ordered another drink, giving himself a second to recover his pride.
Typically, he wouldn’t have let the rejection affect him, especially from a random woman in a random bar when he hadn’t been looking for anything anyway, and especially when she’d let him down so graciously, making it incredibly clear it wasn’t about him. But he’d thought there was a connection and a spark and for a moment he’d had hope.
Suddenly, his world was rocked by a force colliding with him, pressing flush against his body and wrapping their arms around his middle in a tight hug before he could even react. “Mon amor! I missed you.”
Roy blinked down at the figure, his arms wrapping loosely around her before his conscious mind registered that it was the French Fire Flower who had launched herself into his arms. Once his brain fully caught up with the situation, he smirked down at her. “Not that I’m objecting, but I’m getting a bit of whiplash here.”
It was only then that he noted the alarm in her eyes. “Please,” she pleaded quietly.
His arms tightened around her automatically, like a Pavlovian response to that combination of her wide eyes and anxious tone. His eyes flicked over her shoulder and instantly spotted someone shoving people out of the way on their way toward them. He kept his body and face pointed toward her but carefully tracked the man’s movements. “That asshole the reason you’re not ready to date yet?”
She nodded so minutely he wouldn’t have picked up on it if he hadn’t also heard a whispered, “Yes.”
He leaned down like he was whispering sweet nothings to his long-missed lover, only partially pretending to be lost in her touch, as he tenderly ran his hands through her hair. “How long ago was the breakup?”
She swallowed heavily and took a moment before she answered. “A few months. Um… like four.”
He grunted and leaned close enough for his lips to ghost over her ear. “And he’s crawling back?”
“More like creeping back like Jason Voorhes,” she grumbled. “Just keeps coming back no matter how many times I shut him out and more aggressively each time.”
“Hey, fucker! Get your hands off my girlfriend!” the man roared the instant he broke through the last of the groups around them.
The moment the words started coming out of his mouth Roy could feel the woman freeze and almost cower away from his anger. Roy eyed him up and down, an icy hardness in his gaze as he stood and pushed her slightly behind him, but still keeping her hugged up against his side. The man was smaller than Roy, not in height, but in breadth. Where the man was lithe and fit, Roy was muscular and solid. The comparison became more apparent when Roy turned to face off against the man. “Excuse me?” he growled.
To his credit, the man only slightly faltered, almost imperceptibly and seemed to recover quickly. “I said,” he reiterated, standing up even taller to glare back at Roy, “Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Girlfriend.”
Roy could feel her groan more than hear it. She opened her mouth to bite back but Roy interrupted before she could. “I’ll touch my wife however and whenever I want to. That’s why I married her in the first place.”
Her eyes widened and her body stiffened for just a moment, but thankfully she appeared to recover quickly, pasting on a smile and pretended to melt into his side. It was convincing enough the tension could easily be written off as due to the confrontation, not an unexpected lie.
“You got fucking married?” He demanded glaring at her. He tried to shove into her space, but Roy moved again moving in his path and stepping forward, forcing him to retreat a step, which only seemed to infuriate the man further. He tried to peer around Roy to get close to her, but no matter how far he leaned, Roy met his movement.
“I did,” Roy answered with a cutting smile.
His eyes snapped to Roy’s. It was almost comical how red his face got from those two words. Roy’s smile got sharper at the reaction. If there was one thing he’d always been good at, it was knowing how to piss someone else off. “I wasn’t talking to you, asshole!”
At that comment, she refused to let Roy respond and piped up before he could. “Do not call my husband an asshole,” she hissed. Roy’s smile turned genuine and pulled her back into his side before dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.
“What the fuck!?! Marinette, baby. What is going on? You… we were going to get married, have a family! What about our five kids? Baby, I still want them with you.” His voice was velvety smooth, his eyes pleading and contrite.
Roy braced himself for Marinette to fall for it. He wouldn’t blame her, really. If Roy hadn’t seen ploys like it from spies trying to secure information and women trying to lure Dick into a relationship, he might have believed it was authentic as well. But he was praying to whatever deity existed out there that she didn’t fall for it. He didn’t know her well, but even if he hadn’t been able to tell she was creative, funny, kind, and sweet, nobody should end up with a dirtbag like that guy.
But even from their short interaction so far, he knew that she was all those things and more and deserved someone better. She’d clearly known that at some point because she’d dropped his loser ass, but he knew from personal experience how easy it was to fall back into toxic relationships. He squeezed her, hoping to transfer some strength, because if she fell for it, he had no idea how he was going to talk her out of it.
By some miracle, his effort seemed to have an effect. Marinette stiffened in his arms and leaned into him for a second before lashing out at her ex, pushing into his space with all five foot four inches of her ready to fight. “You wanted five kids, and if you still want them, I’d suggest trying for them with Sarah or Sandra, or whatever her name was. I’m afraid I didn’t catch her name before she rushed out of the room to get dressed.”
Roy barely controlled his reaction, somehow managing to keep it to a rough exhale when he wanted to guffaw loud enough for the bouncer outside to hear him. He squeezed her hip again, this time in a show of support and approval of her cheek and hoped she understood the message despite not knowing him well enough to have learned the difference in touches.
“Baby, I love you,” the ex cooed. He reached out for Marinette to graze his fingers along her jaw but Marinette jerked her head back, inadvertently burrowing further into Roy’s chest. The ex’s eyes narrowed at the action, but he quickly covered it with a penitent expression. “It was just a mistake. She was a mistake. She meant nothing to me.”
“She clearly meant more to you than our relationship,” Marinette scoffed. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, which again brought her further into Roy’s embrace.
His lips thinned and his jaw tightened, but this time he was a few beats slower to mask it before responding. “Baby, I…”
“Cheating on someone as amazing as her?” Roy cut in, drawing the ex’s attention to him instead of Marinette. She wasn’t in this alone and he wasn’t going to let her face his ire alone. “How stupid do you have to be? I’ve been self-destructive before, and I mean self-destructive, but even at rock bottom, I wouldn’t have been that dumb. But I guess there are just some guys that would cheat and some that wouldn’t.”
“You can stay the fuck out of this. You don’t know me!” the ex roared at Roy, completely losing is composure and not even bothering to try to mask his anger and frustration like he had before.
“And I never will,” Roy granted with a slight taunt in his voice.
“And I wish I never did,” Marinette agreed. She sighed heavily and lost the rigidity in her stance, slumping slightly and shifting some of her weight onto Roy, who shouldered it effortlessly. “Leave, Noah. This,” she motioned between them without meeting his eyes which were now wide in mock supplication, “is never happening. We aren’t some star-crossed love story, riddled with misunderstandings and miscommunications. You aren’t the romantic lead. You’re the asshole I leave before my life gets better.”
His eyes instantly went from pleading to hard and hateful. “Gets better,” he spit. “You won’t be able to find better than what I gave you. You were always a bitch I had to put up with. I was only with you out of pity because nobody else would want you, not for more than a cheap fuck. In two months, you’ll be alone again and crawling back because nobody else would ever really want you.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Roy growled. He pushed Marinette behind him and punched Noah in one smooth motion, not giving Noah the chance to anticipate the action. He hit him hard enough to lay him out on the floor with one punch. “Nobody speaks like that to my wife,” he roared over Noah’s prone body.
“Mon dieu! Are you okay?” Marinette exclaimed. She rushed around Roy to survey the damage and Roy felt his heart sink as he saw her panicked expression. He’d not only given her a front row seat to him being violent, an aspect of himself he tried to save for when he was suited up, he’d hit someone who had been important to her. They hadn’t had enough time for him to show her he was more than just some crazy, aggressive neanderthal.
He almost definitely just completely destroyed any chance he had. But regardless, he refused to regret it. That man was the worst kind of filth. The kind that thought they were allowed to treat the people around them like they were disposable. The kind that thought they were inherently better than everyone else while the only evidence of that they could provide was their own bad behavior. The kind that were destined to be miserable and spread that misery to everyone around them.
He almost jumped when he felt delicate hands gently grasp his hand and lift it closer to her face so she could examine it, close enough, he could feel her breath on his skin. She tenderly brushed her fingers along the back of his hand and over his fingers only to turn it over and continue the pattern on the other side as well. Her fingers barely pressed hard enough for him to feel them, but they still electrified his skin, shooting jolts through him and stealing his breath. He managed to tear his gaze from tracing her fingers to meet her eyes.
“You're asking him?” Noah screeched as he attempted to get back up, swaying slightly, still reeling from the punch.
Roy flexed his hand a few times to stretch out the muscles, never removing his hand or gaze from hers. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I know how to throw a punch.”
Marinette dropped her eyes to his hand again, a concerned wrinkle developing the longer she examined it. “Wait just a second!” she exclaimed then turned to the bar.
Roy followed her movements, not noticing the small, sappy smile tugging up the corners of his lips, but he did notice Noah finally managing to raise up to his feet. He managed to tear his eyes from Marinette to fix him with a withering glare threatening enough to make Noah falter almost tripping over a chair behind him, only managing to catch himself at the last minute.
“Ever disrespect my wife like that again and it’ll be a year before you can walk out of the hospital, if you even ever can use your legs again. In fact, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself if I ever even see you around her at all. So, I would highly recommend you just disappear from her life. Assholes like you are a dime a dozen and that’s after inflation and still overpriced.”
Noah glared back but Roy straightened up even further and flexed his fist. The movement didn’t go unnoticed. He held his ground for just a few seconds before scoffing. “She’s not even worth the time I spent on her anyway.” Roy jerked toward him and Noah scattered like a cat seeing a cucumber.
Marinette returned just as Noah had disappeared into the crowd. She didn’t even seem to notice he was gone, let alone look for him, just focused on Roy’s hand. She ushered him back to his seat and gently lifted his hand onto the bar and delicately set the ice on it not meeting his gaze. “I’m so sorry for that! I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. If I’d known you might be in danger, I never would have…”
“Hey,” he dipped down until he could meet her eyes and smiled, “I’m fine. Thank you for the ice. It was sweet of you to take care of me.” He motioned to the chair she’d been sitting in earlier for her and helped ease her into it. “Are you okay?”
“You're the one that's bloody!” she exclaimed, almost getting back up to drive home her point.
“But you're the one that he was trying to hurt,” he pointed out. He intentionally kept his voice smooth and calm hoping to sooth her nerves, as though his tranquility could be absorbed like osmosis.
She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead unnecessarily adjusting the bag of ice to better cover his knuckles. He used the distraction to motion to the bartender for another round of drinks. “Yeah, it happens,” she finally shrugged. “Not the worst I’ve heard.”
“That's a goddamned tragedy,” he hooked a finger under her chin to urge her face up to meet his gaze, “because you're amazing and he’s nothing more than an asshole. And, not to scare you but after hearing that, I kind of wish I’d hit him harder…” he winced thinking about how hard the man had gone down. He wasn’t looking to go to prison. How was he supposed to convince this amazing woman to date him from prison. “…maybe not harder. But a few more times with the same force if it would make you feel safe and erase your frown.”
She scoffed and turned to focus on the glass that just appeared before her, but after a beat glanced up through her lashes and offered a weak smile. “Thanks. But to be honest, his words don’t really hurt anymore.”
He nodded and pushed her drink toward her. “Good. I’d say you’re a hundred times him, but at best he’s worthless, and any number times zero is zero, so that wouldn’t be accurate.”
She snorted and took a drink. She stared at the drink for a second before glancing at him from the side and smirking. “They teach you math like that at spy camp?”
For the first time since Noah had appeared, Roy smiled, a full, toothy, joyous smile. He nodded. “It’s day two. Right after how to punch assholes and use those little cigarette lighter camera things they used to have.”
Her laugh permeated through him straight to his core and warmed his entire body like stoking the hearth. She tipped up her glass to finish off the drink and took a fortifying breath before turning to him. “I think I’m ready to take your number… and give you mine.” Her voice wavered slightly, but there was still a determined chord running through it.
He blinked at her comment, a bit caught off guard, but a slow smile spread across his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think I should have my husband’s number after all,” she added shyly.
His smile turned into a full-on grin. “Not to push my luck, but can I have my wife’s name as well?” He’d heard her name from her ex yelling it, but he wanted it to come from her. He wanted her to entrust him with that part of herself. “Or should I just give you mine to take.”
“It’ll get a bit confusing if we both are called Roy,” she observed overly innocently. He rolled his eyes, but his lips stuck in their amused slant. “I better stick with Marinette,” she shrugged. He inhaled like he was going to start speaking but let it out silently instead. She raised an eyebrow at him. “No witty comment? Have I dumbfounded you with my name?”
He shook his head slowly. “I know better than to tell you how beautiful your name is, but I do think it could be better.”
“You don’t like my name?” she asked. The uncertainty in her voice cut directly into Roy’s heart.
“I do,” he granted quickly, before she could ruminate too long in her misperception. He shifted closer, crowding into her space, his knees brushing on either side of hers, his eyes intently focused. “It’s beautiful, just like you, I just think Marinette Harper sounds even more beautiful,” he smirked.
Her heart stuttered at the low, confidence in his voice. She took a breath before returning his smirk and leaning toward him. “And what makes you think I’ll take your name?”
“You won’t tell me your last name, so…” he inhaled dramatically through gritted teeth and shrugged helplessly, “we’re going to have to use mine. No choice.”
“Oh, so tragic,” she commiserated.
“It truly is,” he agreed sadly.
The smile that had spread at his comment eventually eased into a quieter one. She straightened up and held her phone out for him. “I really do have to get going, but I really would like to get your number.” Roy looked from the phone to her a few times before entering the number and standing as he returned it. Marinette glanced down at the phone and smiled. “Sexy Husband?” she asked.
He grinned brilliantly and held his hand out for her. “So you don’t get confused. And for the record, I have no intention of letting my wife go home alone.” When she hesitated, he quickly clarified, “not while your ex might be waiting outside the bar or your place to ambush you. But I will if you want.”
Her smile returned, content and genuine and she took his outstretched hand. “Thank you. I’d like that very much.”