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Dick generally doesn't concern himself with other people's business. He really doesn't have the energy or time to care.
The last thing he wants to do is be like Bruce, overbearing and stifling and completely unrelenting.
However, he can't help but be a little concerned when Roy doesn't show up to training for ten days in a row.
Dick justifies it to himself-- he has every right to check in on him, they're best friends, and Roy is part of Dick's team.
He goes on a Tuesday.
Tuesdays are good days. They're the days his mom used to wash her hair, usually with nothing more than a pot of heated water that she set beside their small makeshift tub. She'd dry off, and then she'd smell like soap and lemon and hair oil.
Tuesdays were also the days when Bruce would take Dick out for ice cream when he was younger.
Slade also gave him days off on Tuesdays.
All around, if something good was going to happen, it would be on a Tuesday.
That isn't to say that all Tuesdays are perfect.
This one, for example, has Dick walking in on Roy, smelling of weed and sweat, staring at a vial and needle on the table. Like he was trying to make a choice.
"Roy?" Dick asks nervously.
Roy sluggishly turns his head. He takes in Dick, and the still-open door, and grimaces.
"Hey, Rob."
"Nightwing." Dick corrects numbly. He'd known Roy was getting a little... adventurous, but he hadn't thought it was this bad.
"Mm, right." Roy turns back to the table.
"Roy, what is that?" Dick asks, feeling like a mother hen. He cringes.
"Heroin. I think. I got it on a drug bust the other day."
"You should give that to the police, Roy."
"I know." He says quietly.
Dick carefully closes the door and pads across the room to sit next to Roy. He wraps an arm around him.
"What is this?" He asks dumbly.
Roy buries his face in Dick's neck. "Dick, I'm scared."
"Of what?"
Roy shakes his head. "Nothing. Everything." He's shaking.
"Yeah, drugs'll do that to you."
Roy wipes his nose on Dick's sleeve as he tilts his head up to make eye contact with him. God, he's a wreck.
"Do you ever-- remember? Or forget?"
"Um, yeah?"
"No." He says harshly, placing a hand over Dick's mouth to silence him. "Your childhood. Your-- our-- what we did. What we do." He pulls away with a face so disgusted it makes Dick feel nauseous himself.
Dick hesitates. "We shouldn't have been doing that." He says slowly.
Roy places his head in his hands and begins rocking back and forth. "I keep getting flashes-- having nightmares. Their faces-- God, Dick, those kids." Dick doesn't ask which ones. There were always too many hurt and traumatized children to count. "When does it all go away?"
Dick thinks of Bruce. Of how he looks haunted with every step, every breath he takes. "I don't know."
"I think I'm going to kill myself." Roy says to the quiet room.
Dick's world tips. "Roy!" He shouts on instinct. He knows that's not right, he's had training on this, but-- "Roy, don't be fucking stupid!"
Roy flinches. "Dick, there's nothing left for me here, I-- I've got no one, nothing. I'm not-- important, like you are. Not to the world, not to anyone--"
Dick isn't quite sure what possessed him to do it. He's never done anything like this before, and he's never thought about it-- not like this, at least.
No, Dick has certainly never fantasized about cutting off a suicidal confession with a harsh kiss.
When Dick pulls back, Roy looks stunned. Dick feels stunned, too, his hand still holding fast to Roy's jaw. Roy blinks and before Dick can say anything, get any sort of apology out, Roy's lips are crashing onto his. They stay locked for much longer this time.
When they pull away, their foreheads stay touching, and Dick allows the hand on Roy's jaw to travel down to the back of his neck, and cradle his jaw.
"You're important to me." Dick whispers.
"How important?" Roy whispers back, sliding a leg in between Dick's.
Important enough that I shouldn't be doing this. Dick thinks.
"Roy, you're high--"
"For fuck's sake, dickhead, I know you have issues about these sort of things but I don't fucking care." He goes in for another kiss, but Dick has pulled away.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He snaps.
Roy's eyes are flicking in between his. "Nothing." But he has a smile on his lips, like he knows something Dick doesn't.
Dick lunges forward, capturing Roy's mouth in his own. "Fuck you." He mutters against his lips.
Roy hums in distant approval as he runs his hands up Dick's sides. Dick hides his shiver because he does not have issues about these sort of things, thank you very much.
And just like that, it becomes more of a game to Dick. It makes it easier somehow, like it's not really sex, just an attempt to prove Roy wrong.
It's more fun than sex has been in a long time for him.
Roy still doesn't come to training after that. Kori asks where he is and Dick shrugs. She looks at him strangely and Dick tenses.
What if she knows?
They were on a break right now, but Dick had never really had sex with someone else while they were on a break. Maybe when they broke up and Dick would mess around with Babs, but that hardly counted.
Was this cheating? Had he cheated again?
He doesn't think he could take Kori calling him a whore again.
The next time it happens is on a Thursday. Thursdays are not as good as Tuesdays. His parents died on a Thursday.
Dick was lying in his bed in Titan's Tower when his door opened, the soft orange of the after-hours lights flooding in.
Roy stood there, bathed in the orange light, a dark, immovable shadow.
Dick was surprised to see him, tilted his head and opened his mouth to ask a question.
He wasn't really surprised when Roy dove into him and cut him off with a violent kiss.
He still wasn't surprised when Roy pushed him against the mattress and and took his shirt off.
He wasn't surprised when Roy didn't stay, either.
They kiss during sex.
Which is.
Weird.
It's not that Dick doesn't kiss during sex, it's that he doesn't with people like Roy.
He knows exactly where he stands with Roy.
They aren't in love, they don't like each other like that, Roy is just using Dick's body.
Which is.
Fine.
But the kissing confuses him. Kori and Babs are the only people he's ever kissed (not the only people who've ever kissed him), and he, at least in the moment, loved them.
He supposed he loved Roy, the night he first kissed him.
That's why he started this, wasn't it? Because he loved Roy?
But he didn't love him like that.
And it seemed the longer time went on, the more sex they had, the less Dick even liked Roy.
He kissed him fast and hard, the way he was forced taught to when he was far too young, and he doesn't feel anything.
He doesn't feel love, like he does for Kori and Babs, or even hatred, like he did with everyone else.
He isn't even disgusted with himself, which he usually is.
He just feels nothing.
He feels like he's not real.
He feels like a doll. A toy.
And he fucking hates Roy for doing that to him.
The first time Dick goes to Roy, he does it damn well knowing he should be going to someone else.
Anyone else.
Probably Kori.
But.
He and Kori had been wrapping up a mission, tying up the perps and leaving them for law enforcement when Dick saw him.
There, not five yards away, stood Deathstroke.
He stood still, silent, the stupid ribbon attached to his helmet blowing in the wind.
It was how he always appeared to Dick, in his hallucinations.
But sometimes he stood like that in reality, too.
Dick realized he'd been staring, and worse-- that Kori had noticed-- when he was being shaken to his senses.
"-ightwing. Nightwing. Are you alright?"
Dick looks up to her face, follows her eyes. She's looking right at Slade, but she can't see him.
Slade puts a finger to where his lips might be under the mask. Dick flinches.
"Nightwing, what's wrong?" Kori's stepped closer, her finger entwined with his, her warmth radiating onto him.
Normally, he'd lean into it, but right now it burns his skin white-hot and he lurches away.
Kori watches him helplessly as he runs off.
When he gets back to the Tower, he makes a beeline to his room, intending to shower and scrub every last inch of his skin, and probably throw up, too.
But when he gets to the bathroom, his reflection is gaunt, pale, and he's suddenly aware of his legs shaking as Slade reappears and places a harsh grip on his shoulder.
Dick rips away so violently he nearly crashes into the mirror.
He pants on the floor, eyes closed. It hasn't been this bad in a while. He doesn't know what to do. The only thing he does know is that he can't be alone right now.
He finds himself wanting to run back to Gotham, pride be damned, his tail between his legs, and beg Bruce for forgiveness.
A twisted, dark part of him fears that forgiveness will be given, but at a price. A price Dick is not willing to pay.
Not to Bruce.
But to someone else...
It's his body more than his mind that takes him to Roy's room. After months of convincing and begging (and sex and kissing and panting) he finally moved back in.
It's his stomach, curdled with nausea, more than his own libido that drives him straight into Roy's arms.
Because maybe if he can do this, pay his recompense, maybe the hands that grip at his throat so incessantly will stop.
Maybe they'll be satisfied with what they turned Dick into.
Roy doesn't ask questions, just welcomes him into the too-cold bed (their beds were always cold, like even the sheets and blankets could tell they were impure), and kisses him.
Dick doesn't stay in the bed afterwards, even though he usually likes to.
He showers with the lights off and then patrols until sunrise, and then barely makes it back to the Tower before he collapses on the couch from exhaustion.
Things continued like that for a while, and eventually, Roy got better. He still did drugs, and still didn't eat or sleep right, but he had gained weight, and was beginning to smile more.
And well, that was something.
He never stopped seeing Dick, though.
It had been the better part of eighteen months, and the sex had become, well, boring. Not a surprise, nor a part of routine. Dick didn't think about it if it wasn't happening, barely thought about it while it was happening, and then quickly forgot about it afterwards.
This was what allowed him to return to normal.
That was until Roy asked him;
"Would you ever wanna, you know, go out?"
Dick looked around. They were at an ice cream parlor-- Roy had been finding excuses to get him alone. Usually these excursions were followed by sex. Not always. Dick assumed that when they weren't it was because he had done something to displease Roy.
"We're out right now, aren't we?"
Roy laughs and rolls his eyes. "Well, yes, but, you know. Like, an official date, where we both dress up, and get flowers, and have a nice dinner, and hold hands, and--"
"Why would we do that?"
Roy freezes. "Well, I dunno. It's like. I mean--" he looks pained, "Those are the types of dates you went out on with Kori."
Dick stares at him dumbly. "You aren't Kori." He says slowly.
"I know that." Roy snaps. "But I mean, we've been going out for almost a year, and-- I mean, I'm almost always planning the dates, and--"
"We're going out?" Dick asks. His chocolate ice cream suddenly looks like a big pile of shit, and he wants to throw up, then wants to laugh for thinking that, because isn't that stupid?
"Aren't we?" Roy asks.
"We're... Having sex."
"And going out."
Dick feels like throwing up. "I can't-- you don't-- you don't want me like that." He blurts.
"'Course I do, I mean--"
Dick is shaking his head wildly. No, no, no no. I won't let this be ruined, not innocent dates and handholding and suits and ties. That is good. That is pure.
"Dick, what?" Roy looks like a deer in headlights. He looks pained, confused. "You said-- you said you loved me."
"When?" He croaks. He does love Roy, or he did, before all this, but he can't remember saying it.
"When we-- all the time!"
Dick blinks. This is familiar territory. He can work with this. He works out a laugh. "Oh, man. You can't trust anything that comes out of my mouth when I have sex," he says, "it's been a big problem before. I just say whatever I think you want to hear, or whatever comes to mind. One time I started reciting Hamle-"
Roy cuts him off by abruptly standing. "That is fucked."
"Roy--"
"Dude, you're fucked up."
"I--"
"Shut the hell up. Just-- fuck." For a terrifying moment, Roy looks like he's going to kiss Dick, but instead he just turns around and storms away.
Four months later, Roy walks into the Tower with a duffel bag.
"I'm going to rehab." He says quietly, chin tilted up.
Kori smiles and Wally claps him on the back.
Dick cracks a smile.
"Ollie's sending me off to Oregon. And um... He doesn't... He doesn't want any of you guys to reach out or visit. No bad influences, you know?" His eyes flick to Dick, and his heart drops.
There are last-minute celebrations, snacks and loud music and laughing and dancing. Dick does his best to float through it all, like he does at galas.
When everything calms down, Roy pulls away and stalks off to his room to start packing.
Dick follows him.
Roy doesn't even look over his shoulder. "Come for a last-minute fuck?"
Dick barely processes it enough to flinch. "Did you tell him?" His voice sounds small.
Roy pauses. "What?"
"Did you-- did you tell Ollie. About what we-- were doing?"
Roy scoffs and continues shoving stuff in his bag. "And what if I did?"
Dick takes a step forward. "You didn't tell him." It comes out through gritted teeth, sounding much more dangerous than he meant.
Roy whirls around on him. "Why not? Huh? You embarrassed? Are you embarrassed that you whored yourself out to me, and said 'whatever I wanted to hear' so that I would fuck you? 'Cause you should be."
Dick shakes his head. "Roy, the entire League already thinks I'm a slut--"
Roy laughs, harsh and unforgiving. "Dick, I swear, most of the League has not formed an opinion about you, and if they have, it's that you're God's gift to Earth."
"Roy, if you told Ollie--"
"Quite frankly, Dick, I'm an adult, you're an adult. I have every right to tell my father, of all people, who I have sex with, if I so choose. Now fuck off."
"Roy, I don't want him thinking--"
"For fucks sake!" Roy screams, and Dick freezes. "Dick, I didn't tell him, okay? God! You are the most sex-obbsessed person I've ever met. Someone looks at you, they want to fuck you, I cry to you, you want to fuck me, I mean, God. Do you even think about anything else?"
Dick opens his mouth but all the comes out is a high-pitched moan. Roy snarls and grabs Dick's head, tilting it around, as if he's looking for something.
"Huh? Do you think about anything else? Tell me, really, do you have any thoughts that aren't 'oh I bet they want to fuck me', or 'god, I hope they aren't mad at me'. Do you ever have any thoughts like that?"
Dick finds himself shaking his head. Maybe that'll make this all stop. If he says what Roy wants.
"Oh my God." Roy says, a small laugh at his lips as he lets go of Dick and takes a step back. "You really don't."
Dick tries to leave, backing away slowly. He can't turn his back on Roy, not right now.
"You're like a fucking dog." Roy says, amusement on his face. "You're not even a person. You're a fucking animal."
Dick stills. He can't breathe. "I'm not a dog." He says slowly.
Roy takes a step towards him and Dick instantly cowers, covering his head and turning his body away. "You are. You're a fucking animal, and all you do is have sex. You do it so often you don't even know you're doing it."
Dick shakes his head. His knees give way and he crouches in the ground, his hands still covering his head. "I am not an animal." He whispers over and over again. He can feel Slade watching from the corner of the room, can almost hear him calling Dick his pet.
"You aren't a fucking person," Roy is saying under his breath, and God, it really sounds like he's trying to come to terms with the fact he fucked a dog.
"I am not a dog!" Dick shouts to the floor. "I'm a person! I'm a person! I'm real! I'm real!"
Roy is saying something, but Dick can't hear him over the sound of his own wails. He's not even coherent anymore, just a garble of sobs and, "I'm a person! I'm a person!"
He claws at his face, digging into the bottom of his eye sockets and dragging his nails down his cheeks. He pulls at his hair and falls to the floor, rolling around, bashing his head on it.
"Imapersonimapersonimapersonimaperson. I'm real! I'm real! I'm human! I'M HUMAN!"
Blood runs down his forehead, into his eyes, his ears, his mouth. He keeps hitting his head in the floor.
There are hands on his shoulders and Dick shrieks, pulling away.
"Don't touch me! Stop touching me!" He screams, rolling around and flailing his limbs wildly.
He's pinned on his back, a strong hand on his chest.
Dick lets out one last scream of horror before giving up and spreading his legs. He tilts his chin up and squeezes his eyes shut, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Dick. Dick, it's just me." Donna says quietly.
Dick screams again, then cuts himself short. He opens his eyes, and smiles through the blood. He reaches up and grabs the back of her neck. He tries to pull her forward, but she resists, looking at him with a look of pure horror.
She looks away from him and yells at whoever else is in the room-- judging by how loud it is, there must be a lot of people-- then turns back to him. She leaned down, and Dick opens his mouth, expecting a kiss.
Instead, she pulls his head onto her bent legs. Dick frowns, and turns to place a kiss into her thighs. She gently tilts his head away.
"Dick, honey. It's okay. You don't have to do that with me. It's okay."
Dick looks at her, and he feels another wave of hysteria come on. He lets out a loud sob. She brushes hair out of his eyes.
"Shh, shh, I know. I know. You're so strong, Dick. You're so brave." She cradles him like a small child, and Dick sits up and places his face in her shoulder. "I know, I know."
Dick sobs into her, and she rocks him back and forth, petting his hair and murmuring things he can't understand.
When she places a kiss to his hair, then on his bloody forehead, they don't burn.