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Jason lay flat on his back in his bedroom at Wayne Manor, staring at the darkened ceiling and waiting futilely for sleep.
He was in Gotham for the next few weeks at least, mostly at Bruce’s request—passed on through Alfred, naturally, because of course Bruce couldn’t ask Jason for help directly. Jason had only agreed under the guise of wrapping up some of his own loose ends in the city, though, so clearly he’d learned his habits of avoidance and deflection well.
This was night two, and sleep was proving elusive. Jason was still keyed up from the evening’s work, as dumb as it had been. Plus, it was always hard to fall asleep in the manor. It felt weird and unsettling to be back in his childhood bedroom—like he might open his eyes and be fifteen again, like the whole of his life since the Lazarus Pit was just a particularly dark dream.
And that was a thought he needed an immediate distraction from, but his usual distraction was on the other side of the country. He rolled over and picked his phone up off the nightstand.
Hoping for your sake you fought someone less pathetic than I did tonight, he texted.
A minute later his phone lit up with a reply. depends. whod you fight?
Jason’s mouth quirked. Roy had been pulled into similar family business back in Star City, which made this the farthest apart they’d been from each other in...a while. It wasn’t a big deal—they were crimefighting partners, they could spend a few weeks apart—but it did feel a little weird not to have Roy by his side in the field, or on the other side of the wall now that he was in bed. Jason had been taking a gamble texting, what with the three hour time difference and all, but Star City didn’t play as hard or as late as Gotham did.
Jason: Maxie Zeus.
Roy: ooh sorry jaybird. not only did i fight THE RED FREAKING DART, he actually got in a lucky hit. im gonna have a hell of a shiner for the next few days
Jason was covering his mouth to muffle his snorted laugh when a picture popped up in the app: a selfie of Roy with an exaggeratedly pathetic expression, his hair loose around his face and his free hand pointing to his left eye. Sure enough, there was already visible bruising around the socket. Jason had had enough black eyes himself to know that it was going to be a truly hideous one in the morning, especially on Roy’s pale skin.
Roy was also not wearing a shirt, his freckled shoulders and collarbone visible in the frame. Jason rolled his eyes.
Jason: You couldn’t put on a shirt for that? Send your thirst traps elsewhere, Harper.
Roy: dont insult me. when i send a thirst trap, youll know
Jason muffled another snort. He was just about to roll over and put the phone back on the nightstand when it buzzed with another text.
It was another selfie, but this time Roy had extended his arm to get more of himself in the frame, from the top of his mussed hair to the low-rising waistband of his sweatpants. This time his abs were clenched, showing off the cut of his six pack, and his free hand was behind his head, his bicep thick and defined. This time he’d dropped the cartoonishly sad expression, instead letting his eyes go hazy and heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted.
Jason’s phone suddenly went dark, and he realized he’d been looking at the new photo long enough that the screen had gone to sleep. He blinked and tapped it open, and saw that a new text had come in, one that he somehow hadn’t noticed earlier.
Roy: THATS a thirst trap 😉
Jason gave his head a little shake. He must have been more tired than he thought, zoning out like that.
Jason: Hideous. Blocked.
Roy: lol miss u too jaybird. Night
Jason scrolled back up to the picture, then back down again. Was Roy really sending pictures like that to his hookups? Ridiculous.
And yet Jason had chosen to befriend him, so who was really the ridiculous one here? Night, he typed back, hit send, and put the phone back on the nightstand.
He was asleep within minutes.
*
Roy: emi says hi!
Roy: ollie too
Jason raised an eyebrow as two photos came in one after the other. The first was a selfie Roy had taken of himself and Emiko, his cheek squished against hers so that they could both fit in the frame. Jason had never actually met Emiko, but she was flipping the double bird in the picture anyway, which sounded about right for everything he’d ever heard about her.
The second photo was of Ollie, several yards away, not looking at the camera but also holding his middle finger up to it. That one was probably actually intended pointedly at Jason. He wasn’t offended—the feeling was mutual, after all.
Jason was in the Batcave, running a chemical analysis on a blood sample while absentmindedly eating the lunch Alfred had brought down. Bruce and Tim were at the computer, Dick and Duke were organizing gear, and Cass and Damian were sparring.
It was...nice, actually. Not that Jason would ever say that out loud.
He put down his sandwich so that he could answer the text. Where the hell are you? It looks like a basement.
Roy: sub basement. secret archery range/gym under the house baybee
Roy: dont tell the building safety code inspectors
Roy: oh that reminds me
Roy: since you love my thirst traps
Another picture came in. This one was a selfie of just Roy, with a weight rack visible behind him. He’d lifted his tank top with his free hand to show off his abs again, and was biting his lower lip, ludicrously.
Roy: post-workout selfie
Roy: a classic of the thirst trap genre
Roy: of which i am clearly an auteur
He was wearing basketball shorts in the photo, riding so low that a hint of red curls was visible above the waistband, below his bellybutton. Jason wasn’t sure if he hadn’t noticed how low his shorts were hanging, or if he’d tugged them down on purpose. He swallowed.
“Whoa, what’s that look for?” Tim asked from startlingly close, and Jason jumped about a foot out of his chair, hitting the button to lock his phone automatically.
“Fuck off, Replacement!” he snapped, instinct reverting him several years back in their relationship.
Tim blinked at him. “Wow, okay, normal reaction,” he said, and picked up the plate with the other half of Jason’s sandwich. “Just for that, I’m taking this.”
Jason settled back in his chair, glowering as hard as he could, as if it would mask the flush he could feel rising to his cheeks. He pretended not to notice Dick and Duke giving him weird looks, or that Cass and Damian had paused their sparring to watch.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, and went back to his blood sample.
Fucking Roy.
*
Jason was standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom and fumbling with the tiny little studs on his stupid tuxedo shirt when his phone buzzed. He huffed an annoyed breath out through his nose. His fingers, so good at loading a gun or stitching a wound, were clumsy with formalwear, and it was taking forever to get out of the dumb outfit he’d worn to the dumb gala tonight and into his gear so he could go patrol. He’d have just ripped the damn thing open and let the buttons pop, but Alfred would have given him the look of disappointment he’d honed to perfection over the years, and Jason tried not to earn that more than once a week.
He picked up his phone and swiped it open to see a text from Roy.
Roy: honestly jaybird this disrespect
Roy: here i am working my fingers to the bone to send you pictures so you dont forget my face and its your brother who has to send pics of you back to me
“For fuck’s sake,” Jason muttered, biting back a grin.
He was halfway through typing a retort about how Roy’s pictures generally weren’t of his face when a picture came through—or technically, a screenshot of a text conversation with Dick, which included a photo of him and Jason in their tuxes, Dick all charming smile and Jason all scowl. Jason had been lurking by the canapes when Dick had swooped in and taken it too quickly for him to duck, but he hadn’t expected him to send it to anyone, much less Roy.
Beneath the photo was a text from Dick: cleans up nice, doesn’t he?
Roy: hes not wrong
Roy: but the BETRAYAL jaybird
Jason looked at Dick’s sparkling smile, at the charm and photogenicness that came so easy to him, and then up at himself in the mirror, scowling and disheveled.
“All right,” he said. “Fine. Have it your way.”
Jason: Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Beneath that he sent a photo: his tuxedo shirt undone to show his bare chest, his bowtie draped untied around his neck, his curls mussed. He couldn’t quite knock the scowl off his face, but he felt like it worked, in a broody, cologne ad kind of way—at least until he’d hit Send and promptly felt like an idiot. Oh, Christ.
He dropped his phone facedown on the bed and yanked the tux the rest of the way off, too mortified to care if he wrinkled it or split a seam. His phone buzzed merrily as he changed, but it wasn’t until he was in the relative safety of most of his gear that he could bring himself to look at Roy’s response.
Roy: jason peter todd
Roy: you have been HOLDING OUT ON ME
Roy: the THIGHS buddy damn
Roy: gonna have to step up my game
Thighs? Jason scrolled up to the photo he’d taken and saw that the angle had been wider and lower than he’d intended. He’d kicked off his trousers before fighting with the tie and shirt, and he’d sent the picture so impulsively that he hadn’t realized his black briefs were visible in the picture, and a couple of inches of thigh below them.
He glanced down. They just looked like thighs to him. He wouldn’t have left them in the picture—or his fucking underwear, Jesus—if he’d realized, but…
Roy was joking. He was joking.
Jason: Bring it, Harper.
He grabbed his helmet and headed for the door.
*
Jason was already in bed when his phone buzzed, but it was already in easy reach on the other pillow instead of on the nightstand. It wasn’t that he’d been expecting Roy to text, much less hoping, but...well, he didn’t want to have to move if Roy did text.
Roy: since were going for scandalous below the waist shots now
“Next time I see you I’m reminding you what an apostrophe is,” Jason muttered to distract from the completely unreasonable way his pulse was picking up in anticipation.
The photo, when it came, was Roy framed by a full-length mirror, a rumpled unmade bed behind him. He was running his free hand through his hair, smiling cheekily, and wearing only a pair of tight red boxer briefs.
He was also visibly aroused.
Jason’s mouth went dry. His fingers were already moving on their own, pinching and expanding the picture so that he could zoom in, shameless in his startlement. The lighting in Roy’s room wasn’t the best, but there was no mistaking the outline of his half-hard dick against the cotton.
Texts started peppering in, pulling Jason away from the photo.
Roy: you told me to bring it
Roy: so
Roy: brought
Roy: cant show off the gams like that and not expect me to up the ante
It was always hard to read tone via text, but something about the cadence of the messages struck Jason as distinctly nervous. But why would Roy be nervous if he was joking?
Why would he have sent Jason what was fundamentally a dick pic if he was joking?
Jason reached down under the blankets to grip himself through his underwear where he’d gone hard practically the instant Roy’s picture had come through. If it wasn’t a joke…
Jason: Red? So predictable.
There was a pause just long enough to leave Jason convinced he’d said the wrong thing.
Roy: like your any better
Jason sagged against the mattress. His dick was an urgent weight in his hand. He had a sudden wild urge to call Roy, to hear his voice, but that way lay saying things he couldn’t take back.
Jason: I’m in bed and I’m not getting up to turn the light on. You’ll have to wait for tomorrow to get your ante upped again.
Jason: Though it looks like it’s plenty up already.
Roy: oh ho ho jaybirds got jokes!
Jason: Yeah, jokes and a fucking boner now, thanks a lot.
He stared at the sent text in horror. What the fuck had he just done?
Roy: shit jason
Roy: your gonna tease me like that and then make me wait for a pic?
Jason’s heart pounded, a steady drumbeat of blood rushing in his ears. There was something fizzing under his skin, a feverish excitement that made him want to be reckless.
He reached over and turned the bedside lamp on, then kicked the blankets off. He tugged the elastic of his briefs down slightly. He angled his phone downwards.
The picture showed the flat plane of his stomach, a trail of dark hair widening the further down it went, and his briefs. With only the bedside lamp on, the picture was dark and low quality, but it was still possible to make out the bulge of his erection, the way the waistband of his briefs was lifted by it—and the flushed head of his dick just visible under the arc of the elastic.
He looked at the picture for a long minute, then the last text Roy had sent.
Then he hit Send.
The waiting was excruciating. Then Roy started typing and deleting whatever he was typing, and the three little dots appearing and disappearing were worse.
Roy: holy shit
Roy: fuck
Roy: your making me crazy jaybird this is UNFAIR
Jason’s whole body flushed hot. He reached down to cup himself through his shorts again and texted back with his free hand.
Jason: Show me.
He didn’t have to wait long. Roy’s picture was taken at the same angle as Jason’s, lying in bed. Those red boxer briefs had been shoved down, and the sight of Roy’s hard cock, flushed and pretty and straining toward his bellybutton, made Jason let out a shocked breath like he’d taken a blow to the stomach. Star City had never seemed so far away.
Roy must have been thinking along similar lines, because the texts started rolling in under the picture.
Roy: why did we start this on opposite sides of the continent
Roy: wish i was there with you
Roy: and you know i hate gotham
Roy: but
Roy: ah jesus jaybird
Jason couldn’t bring Roy to Gotham instantly, but he could do the next best thing—which wasn’t even close, but it was all he had. He tapped on Roy’s contact info and then on the phone icon to call him.
Roy picked up halfway through the first ring. “Jay,” was all he said, but the familiar timbre of his voice and the unfamiliar rough hitch to it sent a wave of arousal through Jason.
“Holy shit,” Jason said, keeping his voice low. No one else’s bedroom was close to his, but his family was nosy. “Are you jerking off?”
“Are you not?” Roy asked incredulously.
Fuck. Fuck, Roy was touching himself and thinking of Jason. He was touching himself and talking to Jason. “I...I didn’t know if…” Jason stammered, overwhelmed at the thought, aching between his legs.
“Do it,” Roy commanded, his voice low and coaxing. “I want you to. I want to hear you.”
“God.” Jason slipped a hand into his shorts. The first stroke of his cock had him trembling, more keyed up than he could remember being in ages. “Roy. Fuck, that picture.”
Roy’s moan was low and urgent. “Waited so long to hear you say my name like that,” he said. “Tell me.”
Jason’s hand moved steadily, his hips twitching into the pleasure of it. “I want to get my mouth on you.”
“Jason,” Roy said, sounding as wrecked as Jason felt. “Yes, please, god. Do you know how many dirty dreams I’ve had about your mouth?”
“Yeah?”
“Everything about you,” Roy said. “I want you on your knees. I want to get on my knees for you. I want to taste you everywhere, fuck, every single inch of you.” His breathing was hard and heavy between the words, and Jason pictured him sprawled in that bed, his hand pumping that beautiful dick as needily as Jason was pumping his own.
“I’d let you,” he said, feeling the slick glide of precome under his fingers.
“Yeah? I’d let you do anything,” Roy said. “You better send me a better picture of that gorgeous cock of yours so I can dream about you fucking me more accurately. You want that, baby?” Jason muffled a moan against his knuckles. “Fuck, yes. I want to hear you like that in my bed.”
“Please,” Jason said, dazzled by the mental image of Roy with his knees up, spread open beneath him, miles of pale freckled skin and all for Jason.
“Oh, baby, you better limber up before I see you again,” Roy said, the little rhythmic hitch in his voice driving Jason crazy. “I’m—hh—I’m making a list.”
“Roy, oh my god,” Jason managed, pressing his burning cheek into the pillow. But he wanted Roy to keep talking, even if it meant Jason combusted from a mix of embarrassment and lust. “Would...would you fuck me?”
Roy’s low moan sent shivers down his spine and another pulse of precome spilling over his knuckles. “Jay. You like that?”
“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. “I’ve...I’ve never…” But he couldn’t stop thinking about Roy’s dick, now that he’d seen it, and the sheer desire in his voice when he’d talked about Jason fucking him. Would Jason want it that bad, once he’d had it? “Would you make it good?”
“Fuck, baby, I’d make it so sweet for you,” Roy said. “Open you up with my tongue and fuck you for days, anything you wanted, I just want to get my hands on you. Want to make you feel so good you think you’re losing your mind.”
“Roy.” Jason was losing his rhythm, trying to keep time with Roy’s ragged breathing on the other end of the line. “Roy, Roy, I want…”
“Are you gonna come?” Roy asked. His voice was a low growl in Jason’s ear, in his head, in the core of him. “Do it, Jason, I want to hear you. I want to hear you come just from my voice, let go, baby…”
Jason’s thighs tensed and he grabbed for the spare pillow, muffling his helpless moan with it as pleasure rippled through him. The phone slipped from beneath his ear but he could still hear Roy’s gasping cries, faint but dizzying, on the other end of the line.
It took Jason a couple minutes before he could make his limbs coordinate well enough to move the pillow and retrieve the phone properly. His shorts were a mess. “Roy?”
“Hi.” Roy’s voice was as warm and lazy as an afternoon nap. Jason curled into it. “Holy shit, that was hot.”
“Mmm,” Jason said contentedly. “Did you come?”
“So hard I nearly went blind, yeah,” Roy said, and Jason snickered. “How much longer does Bruce need you?”
“Three days,” Jason said, too quickly to pretend he hadn’t been counting them down.
Roy’s amused hum told him it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “And then you’re flying here, right?”
“And then I’m flying there,” Jason agreed. They’d had vague plans to meet up in Star once they were done helping their respective families and plan their next move from there. Those plans had become a lot less vague for Jason somewhere between Roy’s second picture and his third.
“I can’t wait to see you,” Roy said, the filthy promise in his voice making Jason’s spent dick twitch optimistically. And then: “I miss you.”
“I…” Jason’s breath caught. He burned redder than he had when they’d been talking about fucking each other. “I...yeah. You too.”
Another hum from Roy, this one pleased and sleepy. “Get some rest, Jaybird, it’s gotta be ass o’ clock back east. See you soon.”
“Night, Roy.”
*
The good thing about the next three days was that they were so frantically busy that they went by lightning-quick. The bad thing was that they were so frantically busy Jason didn’t have time to exchange more than the occasional G-rated text with Roy. He dragged himself out of bed, he worked, he fought, he collapsed to sleep as the sun rose.
But finally it was over, and he was on the plane flying west to Star City. Which meant he had five hours to do all the worrying he hadn’t had time for in Gotham.
What if Roy changed his mind? What if he didn’t want Jason anymore when he was right there in the flesh and not a playful long distance game? What if Jason fucked this all up?
Roy kept his own apartment in Star City rather than actually living with Ollie when he was in town, thank god. Jason didn’t have it in him to run the gauntlet of Roy’s family right now.
Roy wasn’t home when Jason arrived, but that was okay, since they’d exchanged spare keys ages ago. At the time, Jason had told himself it was no different than sharing a safe house; now he found himself wondering how long he’d been an idiot for.
He let himself in and hung up his coat by the door. He was standing in the middle of the living room wondering if he should leave his suitcase by the pull-out couch like he usually did or bring it into Roy’s bedroom when the front door opened and Roy walked in.
The way his face lit up made every doubt Jason had ever harbored vanish like so much morning mist. “Jaybird,” he breathed. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Jason couldn’t move. He couldn’t move, because the minute he did, he would ignite.
Roy was wearing a wool beanie, and when he tugged it off there was an audible crackle of static, his fine copper hair doing its best to stand on end around his face. His cabled fisherman’s sweater had a hole in the elbow and had probably been stolen from Ollie. He was beautiful, even fully clothed.
“Do you…” He took a step closer, then stopped, his blue eyes taking in all of Jason. His brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”
Why was he hesitating? Jason didn’t know how to make this happen on his own. He needed Roy for that. “I’m fine.”
There was a sudden sag to Roy’s shoulders, such a small one Jason wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching Roy like a hawk. “Listen…” Roy said. “I know things got, uh, a little out of hand with the texts and.” He swallowed visibly. “The call. If I pushed...if you don’t want...you don’t have to…”
And just like that, Roy’s hesitancy made sense.
Jason grinned. “You dumb motherfucker,” he said and surged across the room to take Roy’s face in his hands and kiss the shit out of him.
Roy’s lips parted blissfully for him, all soft and warm and eager. His hands fisted in Jason’s shirt. Jason hadn’t realized he’d memorized Roy’s smell until he was breathing it in again.
When Jason pulled back, Roy’s cheeks were a brilliant pink. “Dumbass,” Jason said affectionately.
Roy laughed. “So...we’re good, then?”
“Well, that depends.” Jason pushed closer, let Roy feel his arousal. “You talked an awfully big game on the phone the other night. You gonna make good on it or what?”
Roy’s smile held every filthy promise he could have hoped for. “I hoped you did the stretching I told you to do, Jaybird. I have plans.”
*
Much, much later, Jason lay half-dozing in Roy’s bed, pleasantly sore and gloriously sated. Roy was fast asleep in his arms, his face mashed up against Jason’s collarbone.
Jason let his fingers trail over Roy’s blazing hair where it was fanned out against the pillow, marveling at it; that he was here, that he could touch it. That he was allowed.
A sudden thought struck him and he reached back for his phone, tossed onto the nightstand a few frantic hours ago. He opened the camera app, reversed the camera, and held it at arm’s length, angling his hand until they were both in frame. He had two garish hickies on his neck and one mostly hidden behind his ear; Roy had one on his neck and another on the curve of his shoulder. He was drooling onto the pillow between them. Jason’s hair was a wreck.
Jason took the picture.
“Whuz?” Roy mumbled at the digital click of the shutter.
“Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep,” Jason said, putting the phone back and smoothing his hand over Roy’s hair again to soothe him. He didn’t have to look at the picture right now. Good enough to know he had it and could relive this moment whenever he wanted to.
Right now, he was going to enjoy the real thing.