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"Dude."
The first time Roy sees the guy is not something out of a movie. He wouldn't even call it a meet-cute.
No. The first time Roy sees him, he's in the middle of Dick's kitchen, and this kid's walked in on him—box of donuts in hand and these huge pale eyes staring right where Roy's wrist meets the bulge in his pants when he says, "You know, there are rooms in this house."
"With doors." He makes a point of not looking away until Roy gets the hint and pulls his hand above the waistline of his shorts. "They lock, and everything."
"Okay, first of all?" Roy reaches for a donut, and the guy slaps Roy's arm—makes a face while pointing Roy towards the sink, and plops the box on the counter. "'Had an itch."
"And that boner's 'cus of a raging allergic reaction, right?" It's bossy in a way Roy usually can't stand, yet he laughs. Goes and smothers his hands with dish soap before asking, "What's your name?'
Silence. Then a shrug.
The kid leans against the counter and bites off half a donut—laughs around powdered sugar when Roy rolls his eyes at him.
"So, what?" Roy says, "You won't tell me?"
"So I won't tell you."
Roy nods and picks up the largest glazed donut of the dozen. Looks away from what seems to be the world's worst trespasser and hums almost pensively, "So he won't tell me."
"Nah," The kid smiles at him; Roy barely catches how the scar on his top lip curls into it before he heads up the stairs. He seems to time it, so Roy's about to take his first bite when he glances back. "You should stack 'em."
Roy pauses. Looks at the donut in his hand, and then a little further down. "You suck."
Laughter echoes from the stairs. "You wish."
:::
He's half an hour into pregaming for Kory's 15th over at Dick's when he learns the kid's name is Jason.
Attempting to pregame, anyway. Dick and Kory have spent most of that time trying to figure out the art of getting high off a bong—Roy lets them waste time with YouTube tutorials, even though he's done it before.
Dick stops paying attention about halfway through, chucks his Bic lighter across the room, and laughs after realizing they need it. It feels like a setup for failure, so it's not really a surprise when Dick ditches them somewhere along the second verse of MGMT's Electric Feel. Says something about having to go pee, but comes back dragging along Roy's unceremonious kitchen encounter with him, not even a minute later.
"C'mon, Jay." Dick hauls him into the room, shows him off like a proud parent. "Introduce yourself to the birthday girl."
"We've met," Kory says. Roy figures as much—she's smiling at the kid like she always does once she's decided she likes somebody.
Roy gestures loosely between Dick and Jason. "So, what? You collect strays now?"
Dick gives Roy the finger, then seems to remember, somewhere along his two-cups-of-Smirnoff-born grandeur, that he still has to pee. Leaves Jason behind as he wobbles down the hall, who stares at him with the same vaguely unimpressed look he'd given the cup of cheap vodka Kory'd handed him earlier. His expression doesn't shift, but there's something flat about how he says, "I wouldn't know."
"Wouldn't you?" Roy presses a couple seconds later. "Maybe you just wouldn't tell me."
Jason exhales through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite anything that would matter, but close enough. "You always this friendly?"
"Depends," Roy says, "You here for the cake or the weed?"
Jason tips his cup and grins, teeth sharp and a little crooked, and Roy—kind of wishes he got smiled at like that all the time.
Then Kory asks Jason about school, which spirals into a whole thing. Something about a fat AP Lit teacher and a botched lecture on Alexandre Dumas. Roy wouldn't know. He tunes most of it out, and Jason—doesn't seem all that interested, either, because he straightens up the second he hears Dick coming back from the bathroom.
He doesn't even spare any of them a second thought before leaving for the corridor—catches up to Dick, and he's got this look. The kind he seemed to have only whenever Dick was around. Dick, who leans down in a way that's got Jason's mouth pressed damn near right against his ear; like Highway to Hell might spill past the radio in his room and into the hall, drown the kid's laughter out the way shitty techno would at a rave even though it's playing quietly enough that it wouldn't.
"Well," Jason says, and he fits into Dick's space with such ease: a familiarity Roy hasn't seen Dick share with anyone before, not even Wally. "You've got a type."
:::
Roy and Kory are still sitting on Dick's balcony when Dick rejoins them. He smells like the RW&B Smirnoff Donna'd robbed them blind for and a little of the same aloe curl cream Roy's pretty sure his ex used to wear.
"Since when do you babysit?" Kory asks. Roy doesn't miss how Dick kind of smiles at the question.
"I dunno. How long has it been since we met?"
Kory smacks Dick on the back of the head, and he chuckles against the mouthpiece of the bong her sister had lent them.
"So," Roy's seen Jason around a couple of times since they first met, shared maybe two seconds of coexistence whenever he got tired of Dick and Wally eye-humping each other and fucked off to the living room for half an hour, "Is he, like, your little brother now?"
"No. No, I mean. Bruce's tryna get him to stay with us, but we're not..." Dick doesn't even let the question simmer—answers like it's important to him, that they're not actually related.
"Makes sense," Kory says after a moment. "He might actually grow up to be a hottie."
"Jesus," Roy can't help but laugh at that, "That's gotta hurt."
"Excuse you." Dick's mouth goes agape in faux offense. Roy doesn't know if he's trying to give Kory the stink eye or if it's (somehow) already time they put out the bong.
Dick stands up, takes two whole steps before flopping onto his bed and looking up at the ceiling—loses himself in thought for a second, then two, "I am such a hottie."
And it's not like Roy can really argue against that.
:::
"You know I love you?" Roy says. He's still going over to Dick's after school, except now it's Jason he hangs out with.
(Bruce still hates him, though, so not much's actually changed.)
"I know you needed to hand over that bio paper yesterday," Jason says. They're sitting on what Jason insists is a functioning bed, their legs dangling over the sheets and spilling onto the pile of papers that make up the DNA-related essay Roy's never gonna finish.
Roy thinks Jason's the only person in history to want to do homework instead of getting high. The only one he's ever wanted to fuck, at least.
He takes a crack at whatever equation Jason's currently struggling with when he reaches for the vape—bites at Jason's shoulder and laughs before asking, "The fuck's a cosine?"
"Aren't you a junior?" Jason raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, and Roy exhales a puff of strawberry smoke against Jason's face instead of answering. Gets yanked where Jason's fingers intertwine with the nape of his neck.
"Do you, though?" Jason asks about two minutes of silence later.
Roy turns to meet Jason's lips where they've been pressing against his neck. Smiles into it before asking, "Do I what?"
Jason doesn't answer right away. He pulls his other hand back from where it's been holding onto Roy's shirt under his hoodie slowly, almost lazily, like he's reluctant to lose the feeling, and—
Yeah.
It's got Roy feeling all types of stupid in love.