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They weren't dating.
What they were exactly didn't have a name, but they weren't dating.
Regardless of the fact that they lived together.
Or that Jason was Lian's emergency contact.
Or that they shared a bed so that Lian could have her own bedroom in their two-bedroom apartment.
Or the fact that Jason hadn't been with anyone since Roy had moved in, and he was pretty sure the archer hadn't either.
Their nights were largely spent in and at home. It was so far removed from what they used to do — late nights spent in clubs or on jobs or in clubs on jobs — but Jason found that he didn't mind the slower change of pace.
It meant he had time to actually pick up new hobbies for the first time in his life. Willis and Catherine never had the expendable income, and after that he was always too busy — being Robin, being dead, being Red Hood. Now though, with Crime Alley and his gang mostly self sufficient, he had both the time and money.
Their apartment catalogued the many, many different projects Jason had done so far, from needlepoint to pottery to spoon carving. Roy hadn't seemed to mind the projects in various stages of completion taking up space in their apartment. In fact, if anything, he enjoyed see each new one show up as much as Jason did.
The newest hobby was knitting.
Every week, Jason volunteered at the Crime Alley Library. Susan, the head librarian, had been working for Hood's gang before he finally got her to retire with a generous pension and set up at the library. She also ran the knitting and sewing circles, and had gotten Jason into knitting during one of his shifts.
So far, he had made scarves and blankets for one of Hood's shelters, but his newest project had him branching out into sweaters. The minute the redhead saw it, his face lit up.
"Can you make me one, Jaybird?" he asked, eyes bright, voice hopeful.
Jason wanted to say no. He should have said no. But then Roy was staring him down with those bright green eyes, and he heard himself say yes.
The thing about the sweater curse was that it was a litmus test for straight couples. A litmus test that they often failed.
It centered around the idea that one person made a sweater for their partner, and their partner realized that they would never be able to reciprocate that level of effort in their relationship. So they broke up.
It shouldn't have been a concern because Jason had never had any doubts that any effort he gave would be returned by Roy.
Nevermind that they weren't straight.
Nevermind that they weren't even in a relationship.
That wasn't the point.
The point was that Jason should have had no issues with making his friend and roommate a sweater.
So he had said yes, and tried not to think about the implications.
He would never admit it, but some small part of him had hoped that Roy would forget about it. Despite what the redhead let people believe, he was always thinking about something. His latest project. An equation. Lian's homework. It wouldn't be far fetched for one of Jason's many hobbies to slip out of his mind.
Roy hadn't.
Instead, when he saw Jason finishing the sweater and getting ready to start his next project, he asked "Will you still make me a sweater, Jaybird?"
Jason started Roy's sweater.
ᝰ.ᐟ
Roy had stopped by the Crime Alley library to do maintenance on their heaters at Jason's request. The hints indicating that fall was fast approaching had just started showing up, and the younger man wanted to make sure the library was operating perfectly.
"Lots of people on the streets still see the library as the only option that's warm and safe, Roy," he had said with the kind of knowing confidence that only came with lived experience.
So Roy found himself taking a weekend to look at the heaters in the library. It was a small price to pay, he thought, for everything that Jason gave to him.
They weren't together, but that hadn't stopped Roy from fantasizing about if they were.
The head librarian — Susan, Roy remembered from when Jason had introduced them — was there. She started chatting with Roy about what the library had been up to recently, and the archer listened intently. Jason never liked talking about the work he was doing — he said that it felt too much like bragging for the bare minimum of showing up — but Roy still liked hearing what his partner was up to.
Apparently Susan and her knitting club were the reasons that Jason had taken up knitting as his latest project. That Roy knew about, which meant he could brag to Susan about how Jason was making him a sweater. He was prepared for excitement that Jason was taking knitting so seriously, or maybe curiosity about what kind of sweater, but nothing prepared him for the horror that crossed the woman's face.
"You're not married," Susan said, with a barely contained gasp.
"No…?" Roy wondered if his confusion was as visibily obvious as it was in his voice.
It wasn't a secret that Roy and Jason weren't married.
It wasn't seven a secret that they weren't together.
"But what about the curse?" Susan followed up.
The curse?
"The curse?" he asked. "What curse?"
"You know," Susan responded, like Roy should have already known, "the sweater curse."
She whispered it like whatever "the sweater curse" was might come and smite her in the library right now. Roy racked his brain to try and remember if Jason had ever mentioned a curse when he agreed to make him a sweater. The younger man hadn't, which meant Roy wasn't that worried.
Jason had had his back for years in many worse situations. He would have told the archer if there was something he needed to be concerned about it.
He was, however, curious.
"What's the sweater curse?" he found himself asking.
"What's the sweater curse? What's the sweater curse? Jason agreed to knit you a sweater without telling you about the curse?"
Obviously, Roy wanted to say. I wouldn't have asked otherwise. But Susan was one of Jason's favourite people. She was someone he trusted. She was someone he could count on, and gods knew he had had so painfully few of those throughout his life.
"The sweater curse is a… data-based superstition that if someone makes a sweater for their partner, before they're married, they'll break up. Something about commitment and how…"
Roy was sure that Susan kept talking — information that under normal circumstances he was sure he'd be interested in — but right now it faded into background noise as the archer's brain narrowed to four words.
Partner.
Married.
Break up.
"We're not together," he heard himself say automatically. It was the same voice he used every time he went back to Star City and the Arrows asked for an update on his and Jason's relationship.
Susan's face fell. "Oh, that's too bad. The curse is already working."
"No, I mean…" How did Roy explain that his longest, most committed, healthiest relationship was platonic and with someone who used to be just a coworker. "We're not dating. We never have. We've never been together."
"Haven't you been?" Susan contradicted, not kindly, but with a knowing look in her eyes.
"Wha—? No, we—"
"Honey, think about it. You live together, right?"
Roy nodded wordlessly.
"And you're parenting that little girl together?"
"Lian, yeah." Roy had been concerned when she first showed up that Jason might not be willing to deal with a kid too. He needn't have worried. Jason had taken Lian in enthusiastically and without question. The three of had built a… family.
"Have you been dating anyone since you moved in with him?" she asked.
"Of course not." The redhead was almost offended she had even asked. When he first started living with Jason, he hadn't felt comfortable enough to even explore the idea of that kind of relationship. And then when Lian showed up and they started sharing a bed, it would have been completely inappropriate. And then he just… hadn't felt the need to go and find someone else. Not when Jason already gave him everything he would have wanted out of a relationship.
"And I know he isn't seeing anyone. Hasn't even entertained the idea."
Jason wasn't? Jason hadn't? The younger man was a catch, and Roy was surprised that no one had tried to snatch him up.
"People have tried, of course," Susan continued, like she could read Roy's mind. "That boy is a catch. But he always turned them down and went home to you."
The silence hung heavily in the air.
He always turned them down and went home to you.
"I… I have to go."
She nodded, knowingly. "Go get him, honey."
ᝰ.ᐟ
Roy looked up the sweater curse on his way back to their apartment.
The theory was that if someone knitted their partner a sweater before they were married, they would break up. Roy had just found out that he and Jason were actually in a relationship, but he couldn't stand the idea of losing Jason. Couldn't conceptualize a world where it wasn't the two of them side by side.
Jason was at home working on the sweater when the archer burst through the door.
His eyes lit up when he saw Roy, and he smiled — the soft one that was reserved only for the redhead. How could Roy have been so blind for so long.
"I'm working on your swe—" he started at the same time Roy declared "Let's get married."
The younger man slowly lowered the his knitting needles. "Ex-cuse me?"
"You and me, Jaybird. Let's get married."
"Roy… what?"
"I read about the sweater curse, Jaybird. And we should get married. You know, just to make sure it doesn't get us."
"We aren't…" Jason swallowed slowly, like the very act of saying the words hurt him, "we aren't together?"
"Aren't we?" Roy asked, before breaking it down for Jason like Susan had for him.
Jason was many things, but underneath all of it, he was analytical. He could see facts and data and understand almost immediately what it meant and the larger implications of it. When the facts of their relationship were laid out in front of him, it was easy for him to come to terms with what Roy was telling him.
It was easy for Jason to concede that they were together. That they had been for a while.
It was even easier for Roy to ask if he could kiss him, one hand gently resting on the side of Jason's face, the other brushing his dark curls back.
They fit together perfectly, like Roy had always thought they would.