Archive of Our Own ^beta

December 9th

“Daddy, come on, come on!” Lian insists, tugging on his hand as they hurry down the hallway towards her classroom.

“I’m coming!” he assures her. “Don’t worry, we’re not late.” They aren’t early, either, but Lian will make it to class by the skin of Roy’s teeth, and that’s going to have to be good enough.

It’s a good thing that she likes first grade so much and is so impatient to get here, he reminds himself. He was always a lousy student, too high energy for endless days of sitting quietly through lessons that moved too slowly for him. She’ll be better than him. She already is.

But man, he just can’t seem to get his feet under him lately.

“Hi, Ms. Patel!” Lian shrieks at the top of her lungs when they see her teacher standing in the doorway.

Roy winces. “Indoor voice, baby,” he reminds her.

“Good morning, Lian,” Ms. Patel says, unperturbed. Roy admires the strength it takes to corral twenty-four six-year-olds every day; just one is about all he can handle. “Please put your backpack and coat in your cubby and then go to the rug for the morning song, okay?”

Lian nods, then turns to hug Roy around the knees. “Bye, Daddy! I love you!”

He pats her silky hair. Her pigtails are askew—he didn’t do a good job on them this morning. “Love you too, little squeaker. Have a good day at school!”

Lian dashes into the classroom, narrowly missing a mom coming out. Roy winces apologetically at the mom. “Sorry. She just loves school.”

“It’s fine,” she says. She’s impeccably put together; she reminds Roy of the kind of women Ollie used to date in the days before Dinah. “You must be Lian’s father. She’s friends with my daughter Lacey.”

“Oh yeah, Lian talks about her all the time,” Roy says, and holds out a hand. “I’m Roy.”

She shakes it. “Gretchen. Listen, I’m glad I caught you.”

Roy’s stomach sinks. Shit, has his kid been teaching the other kids how to curse? He’s never been good at cleaning his language up around her, but she knows certain words are Not For School.

“I’m organizing the holiday bake sale next week,” Gretchen barrels on. “All the parents should be on the email list.”

“Oh right, yeah,” Roy says. Buy cookies for bake sale is on his to-do list somewhere, after a very, very long list of other things.

“Will Mrs. Harper be baking something for Lian to contribute?” Gretchen asks.

Roy blinks, wrongfooted by the whole host of assumptions Gretchen has just thrown at him. It doesn’t matter how often it happens; it always derails him.

“Mrs. Harper was my mom and she died when I was three days old, so no,” Roy says, and Gretchen goes white as a sheet. Right. Too harsh. He forces himself to smile. “It’s just me and Lian. But yes, I’ll be bringing cookies.”

Through the classroom doorway, he catches sight of Lian putting her things in her cubby. She glances back at him, her shoulders and pigtails drooping. She definitely heard. Shit.

Roy forces the smile brighter, blows her a kiss, and points meaningfully toward the rug where the other kids are gathering. She nods and walks off with a lot less enthusiasm than she barreled into the classroom with.

Roy hopes Lacey is less of a thoughtless turd than her mother.

“I’m so sorry,” Gretchen is babbling, but whether she’s sorry for what she said or that she said it in Lian’s hearing or that Roy’s a scandalously single father, Roy has no idea. “Cookies sound great, though! So great!”

“Great,” Roy repeats inanely. His smile is hurting his cheeks. “Listen, I gotta go.”

Once in his car, he pulls up an app on his phone. It’s not the standard messaging app; he built this one himself, and it’s much more secure. There’s only one contact in it.

hey. i know its almost a month away but are you going to be able to make it for xmas? lian would love to see you.

He pauses, then adds: so would i.

Jade does her best to swing by wherever Roy and Lian are living for Christmas and for Lian’s birthday, though it’s not always possible, depending on the jobs she’s taken and how many outstanding warrants there are for her at any given time. She’s gone radio silent for a few weeks now, though. Roy’s not worried about her—she can take care of herself—but Lian is going to start asking if Mommy will be there for Christmas soon, and he wants to have an answer for her. Hopefully the answer she wants.

He sits there for longer than he should, starting at a screen that’s gone black. There’s no response. He didn’t expect an immediate one; he doesn’t even know what time zone Jade is in.

But he still sits.

Finally he forces himself to move, checking the time and swearing under his breath. He has too many things to do today to wallow.

The mall is a hellscape, but there are still a few small presents he wants to pick up for Lian for Christmas. It takes about three times as long as he planned on, and when he’s halfway through, Dinah texts asking him to pick up extra dessert for Ollie’s birthday party that night. Roy checks the time, calculates how long it’ll take him to get through checkout and over to the good bakery, and dismisses the AA Toolkit reminder on his phone with a sigh. He’s got his standing home group meeting later this week, but lately he’s been feeling like he needs more than that. But it looks like he’ll just have to fit it in another time.

He tries to sneak the dessert into Ollie’s house quietly but is thwarted by George bounding through the door when he opens it, barking joyously and nearly bowling him over. If Roy hadn’t gotten his early agility training from a Flying Grayson, the pumpkin spice cheesecake would be toast.

“George! Down! Sorry, Roy,” Connor says, taking the cake from Roy. “At least he’s happy to see you?”

Roy snorts. “Only until he figures out where we’re bringing him.”

“True. Listen, I really appreciate this,” Connor says, taking a couple of tupperwares out of the fridge, sliding the cheesecake in, and then putting the tupperwares in front to hide it. “I’m sure you have other things to do today.”

So many things, but… “Come on, what are big brothers for?” Roy says. “We never got to, I don’t know, build pillow forts or whatever as kids. Let me have this.”

Connor smiles. “Still. I could have taken him on the bus.”

George gallops back through the open back door, plants his saucer-sized paws on Roy’s shoulders, and gives him a big, slobbery lick across his entire face. Roy gives Connor a wry look. “Yeah, no. The bus doesn’t deserve that.”

Connor needs to take George to the vet for his checkup, but Connor still doesn’t have his license. He does, however, have a brand-new learner’s permit, which means he can drive as long as there’s a licensed driver in the car with him—and since Ollie is way too high strung to ride with a student driver and Dinah drives like a maniac, that leaves Roy.

George bounds up into the back seat eagerly, still innocent of the ordeal that awaits him, and they’re off. At the slowest possible legal speed, because Connor makes up for Dinah by driving like he’s old enough to remember when combustion engines were invented and still doesn’t trust them. Yeah, Roy was smart to block out the whole afternoon for this.

By the time Connor and a betrayed-looking George are delivered safely back to the house, it’s time to pick up Lian from school. She seems to have regained her usual chipper demeanor, thank god. Roy gets her home, helps her with her homework, gets her changed into the party dress she insists on wearing even though Roy’s still in jeans and his “Drummers Do It With Rhythm” shirt that’s ten years old at least, and then it’s back to Ollie’s.

Ollie grumbles at length about them all making him feel old by making such a fuss over his birthday, but Roy has nearly two decades’ worth of experience in interpreting Ollie grumbles, and these are happy ones. Roy lets himself laugh while Lian romps around the living room with a wildly excited George; he lets himself get roasted to within an inch of his life by the girls, which is how they show affection. He doesn’t let himself think about the chores at home, the things left to be done before Christmas, the to-do list on his phone that never seems to get any shorter.

He’s with his family. He should be with his family. He should be grateful.

There’s a layer cake to go with the cheesecake Roy picked up, with “Good job not dying again, old man” written on it in icing– Mia’s work, Roy is positive. Dinah carries it out, lit with candles and singing ten times better than any of the rest of them. She puts it down in front of Ollie, then perches in his lap. They look at each other, their faces aglow in the candlelight, and Roy—

Roy wants, so sharply it catches in his throat like choking. It’s familiar, so familiar it shouldn’t have the power to hurt anymore, but Roy’s had enough old injuries play up on him over the years to know it doesn’t work like that.

No one has ever looked at him the way that Ollie and Dinah look at each other.

Lian crashes soon after dessert, sound asleep with her head pillowed on George’s side. Roy picks her up and makes his goodbyes, buckles her into her booster seat, and makes the dark and quiet drive home.

There’s been no message back from Jade.

Lian wakes when they get home, just enough for Roy to coax her into her pajamas and through brushing her teeth.

“Daddy?” she asks sleepily as he tucks her into bed.

“Yes, baby?”

“Don’t be sad about the cookies,” she says. Her eyes are already closed. “I don’t think Mommy knows how to bake, anyway.”

Roy swallows hard. “You’re probably right,” he says, and kisses her forehead. “Sleep tight, squeaker. I love you.”

Lian sighs something that’s probably agreement, and then she’s out.

Roy scrubs a hand over his face. He doesn’t have time to wallow. He has shit to do.

The house is a wreck, as always, so Roy spends some time trying to get it in order, then packing up Lian’s lunch for school the next day. It’s getting late, but he still heads into his workshop, which doubles as their guest bedroom—not that anyone ever really visits but Jason.

From the closet, on a shelf too high for Lian to reach, Roy takes down his current prized possession: a tiny bow, just her size, and lovingly hand-carved out of a beautiful piece of black walnut he foraged himself. He’s finished tillering it, and now he just needs to sand and oil it, and make her a little set of trick arrows to go with it—all gentle, low impact ones, of course. He knows he’s going to regret the confetti arrow as soon as she fires it, but he couldn’t resist the idea.

While he’s sanding, his phone buzzes. He can’t help smiling at the contact name as he answers; speak of the devil.

“Hey, Jaybird,” he says. “You’re still up?”

“Gotham doesn’t turn in as early as you delicate West Coasters,” Jason says. His voice sounds a little rough, a little tired, but warm. Roy leans closer to the phone. “I just got back to the safehouse.”

“You’re not staying at the manor?”

“And get caught up in Alfred’s Christmas preparations? Absolutely not,” Jason says. “What are you up to?”

“Finishing the bow.”

“It’s done? Let me see,” Jason insists, and Roy’s phone buzzes again with a request that the phone call switch to a video call.

He accepts, and Jason’s face fills the screen. There’s a looseness to him that Roy recognizes after their time as partners. Late at night, after patrol, when he’s sleepy and worn himself out physically, Jason loses some of his usual guardedness, his instinct to bite. His shoulders slouch; he smiles more easily. He’s…more touchable, somehow.

Roy stops that train of thought dead in its tracks. Thinking like that will only get him in trouble. Besides, he can’t touch Jason, anyway. He’s three thousand miles away.

He makes himself smile and holds the bow up so that the camera can see it. “Ta da! I just hope she likes it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s gonna love it. Hasn’t she been begging you for one for ages?” Jason asks.

“Yeah.” Roy huffs a laugh. “She asked Mia today when she’s going to be done being Speedy so that she can take over. She always…”

She always wanted to be just like him. Roy wonders how long he’s got before she realizes what a dicey proposition that is.

“What? What’s wrong?” Jason asks.

Roy blinks, shakes it off. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Jason scowls at him. “What did Ollie do?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing. I’m just tired.” Roy makes his eyes big and earnest for the camera. “He didn’t do anything, Jaybird. I’m fine.”

Jason clearly doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t push it, either. Roy props the phone up and they talk about nothing in particular for an hour or so, while he carefully sands the bow until it’s as smooth as glass, until there’s no chance that a single splinter could find its way into his baby’s little fingers, still un-callused by life.

“I should let you go,” he finally forces himself to say, picking up the phone to bring it closer to his face. He misses when they were on the same coast. “It’s ass o’ clock there, you should sleep.”

“I’m not the only one,” Jason says. “Listen…”

He trails off, frowning. “What?” Roy asks.

Jason’s frown deepens, then vanishes. “Nothing,” he says. “You get some sleep too, Harper.”

“Yes, Mom,” Roy says, and Jason laughs and gives him the finger before hanging up.

It’s too dark and quiet in the house without Jason lighting up the screen. Roy puts the bow back in its hiding place and gets ready for bed. He has to get up early, after all. Tomorrow is a school day.

But even once he’s lying down, sprawled across a cold mattress too big for one, sleep takes a long time to come.

*

December 16th

Roy snatches up his keys and shrugs into his coat. “Lian, are you getting your boots on? We have to go!”

He glances out the window at the falling snow, then checks his pockets and the shelf above the coat rack for his wool beanie. Nothing, just his baseball cap hanging on a peg. Grimacing, he shoves it onto his head. It’s not the right kind of hat for this weather, colder and snowier than Star City usually gets, but it’ll have to do until he remembers to buy a new beanie.

“Lian!”

“Daddy, I need help!”

Lian hop-hobbles into the front hall, one boot halfway on, the other clutched in her hand. “I can’t get my boots on.”

Roy squats down. “Okay, c’mere. Hang onto me.”

Lian braces herself by clutching his sleeve, and Roy pushes her foot gently but firmly the rest of the way into the boot. It takes more force than he expects, and he frowns and presses down on the front of the boot.

“Baby, do your toes feel squeezed?” he asks.

She nods. “They’re too tight.”

Crap. Roy glances out the window again. She can’t wear sneakers in this, so the too-tight boots will have to do for today, but it looks like Lian’s getting new boots before Roy gets a new hat.

“I’m sorry, bug. Just for today, okay?” he asks, and even though Lian nods and skips cheerfully enough through the half inch or so of snow that’s gathered in the driveway, he still feels like he’s letting her down.

They crawl halfway down the not-yet-plowed street before Roy remembers the cookies for today’s bake sale—store-bought, sorry Gretchen—and they have to go back. The streets are a mess and Lian is half an hour late to school. Roy winces apologetically at Ms. Patel as Lian and her too-small, wet boots squeak across the linoleum, then heads back into the snow.

He’s late getting to Ollie’s, after stopping to buy Lian new boots and dealing with the “eight shopping days left until Christmas” crowd. He stomps into the house, dripping with melting snow, to find Ollie yelling at his laptop screen.

“...make me come up there and show you how to do a simple monitor duty shift!”

“I’d like to see you try, you archaic old hippie blowhard!” shouts a familiar voice. Carter. Roy winces.

“Who are you calling archaic, you undead relic?” Ollie demands.

“Would you two both please give it a rest?” another familiar voice asks just as Roy steps far enough into the living room that the camera can see him. “Oh, uh…hi, Roy.”

Roy forces on a smile. “Hey, Kendra,” he says, waving to his ex and the man she left him for. “They fighting about anything real this time, or just for fun?”

“Don’t you start,” Ollie says over his shoulder, then turns back to the screen. “We gotta go. Try not to crash the Watchtower into Dubuque without my help, Hall.”

“Why don’t you go stick an arrow in your—” Carter starts before Kendra waves hastily and disconnects the call.

“Ugh,” Ollie says, then turns around and registers whatever expression is on Roy’s face. “Hey, you okay, fella?”

Roy brushes it off. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not still hung up on her, are you?” Ollie says. “Because it’s her loss. I mean it. Look who she’s stuck with.”

Roy can hear how hollow his own laugh is, but it’s the best he can muster. “I’m not. Really! Let’s drop it, okay?”

And the truth is, he’s not. He and Kendra had fun together, but they never managed to get serious—mostly thanks to the winged, three thousand year old reincarnated elephant in the room. He doesn’t wish he was still with Kendra. He doesn’t even wish she still wanted him.

It would be nice to be wanted by someone, though.

His hand creeps to his back pocket, where he’s tucked his phone. There’s been no response from Jade, even though he’s messaged her a few more times. Lian has started mentioning things she wants to tell Mommy on Christmas, or show her, and Roy’s been making noncommittal answers, putting off telling her what he’s growing more and more certain he will have to, eventually.

He shakes it off. He doesn’t have time to be maudlin.

“You ready to go, old man?” he asks, his voice a little too loud, a little too falsely bright. Oh well. “It’s already late, there won’t be any trees left if you keep dawdling.”

He can tell by the look on Ollie’s face that he’s not convincing, but Ollie doesn’t argue, just shuts the laptop and stands up with a groan. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see who you’re calling an old man after you tire yourself out with the axe and I have to take over.”

Roy rolls his eyes but this time his laugh is genuine. “That hasn’t happened since I was thirteen.”

Ollie pinches his cheek as he walks past him. “You’re still just a little fella to me, fella.”

Cutting down their own tree is a tradition. They’re a couple weeks late on it this year, which is mostly Roy’s fault since December has been running him ragged, but there are still plenty of trees for the harvesting in the approved parts of the forest up in the mountains. And at least he managed to buy a little one for him and Lian a few days after Thanksgiving. He could be doing worse.

He could be doing better, too.

The melancholy sits beside him like a hitchhiker all the way up the mountain, though the exertion of chopping down the tree helps. It’s still snowing lightly, and the crisp, fragrant air, the stillness of the forest, the familiar sound of Ollie gently razzing him as he chops; they all help his load sit a little lighter on his shoulders.

His phone buzzes a second after the tree crashes to the ground. He forgets to be disappointed that it’s not Jade when he sees that it’s Jason, responding to a dumb joke Roy sent him earlier with an even dumber one in response.

“Hey Ollie, get a picture of me,” he says, tossing his phone to Ollie and posing triumphantly with one foot on the trunk and the axe raised aloft.

“This better not be for your Capr profile,” Ollie says, but he takes the picture.

Roy takes his phone back and sends the picture to Jason. A few seconds later a reply comes through.

Why are you wearing a baseball cap in the snow? You can’t possibly love that stupid hat that much.

Roy snorts. lost my beanie, gotta get another one

You’re hopeless without me, Harper.

Roy swallows hard. It’s a joke. It shouldn’t hurt. It’s not meant to hurt. But the Red Hood never misses, whether he’s trying or not.

God, Roy misses him.

The heaviness creeps back in on the drive back down the mountain, the pressure building like they’re descending into the ocean instead. It doesn’t help that the traffic continues to be abysmal; Star Citizens are not the best at driving in snow, given how infrequently they get it. Roy keeps glancing at the clock on the dashboard from his spot in the passenger seat; he’d hoped to squeeze in an extra meeting today, but now he’s just hoping he won’t be late picking Lian up from school.

“We can go straight to the school,” Ollie offers, reading Roy like a book. “If you’re worried.”

“We might have to,” Roy says with a sigh. “But the second she sees the tree she’s going to want to go back to your place and help decorate it.”

“Well, why not?” Ollie asks. “It’s Friday. And besides, Mia’s been saying she wants you to come by and work with her on staff fighting. You know I’m no good with that stuff, and Connor’s been doing what he can but he’s really more of a hand-to-hand guy.”

Why not? Because Roy has a million things to do today already and he’s already missed his chance to do half of them and all he really wants to do is go home and crawl into bed until spring.

But he can’t, because his baby needs him to pick her up from school, and ask her about her day, and help her get her too-tight boots off, and smile, and smile, and smile. And his father needs to see his granddaughter. And his sister needs him to show her how to fight with a staff, because the day she gets hurt because she doesn’t have that skill, it’ll be his fault.

It’s a good thing that his family wants to spend time with him, he reminds himself. He’s almost lost that. Multiple times. He can’t lose it again.

He shrugs and tries to make it breezy. “Okay,” he says. “But when Mia gets good enough to kick your ass, don’t come crying to me.”

Ollie snorts and moves into the right lane to take the exit for Lian’s school. “She’s already fully capable of it, believe me.”

As predicted, the second Lian sees the tree, she insists on helping to decorate it. Roy helps Emiko and Connor get the tree up and then leaves Lian to ply her craft while he heads down into the basement gym so that Mia can practice hitting him with a stick.

And then after dinner, he helps Connor with the dishes.

And Cissie with her physics homework.

And Dinah with the loose drive chain on her bike.

He’s finally getting himself and Lian into the car when he realizes that he has a missed text from Grant. It’s nothing serious, but it sends another pulse of guilt through him; they spoke a couple of weeks ago, but he doesn’t check on Grant nearly as often as he should.

He calls him back while they’re driving home. “Hey, buddy. Saw that you texted, so I figured I’d give you a call.”

“Answering a text with a phone call. God, you’re so old.” Grant’s voice is muffled, presumably by the mask, but fond.

“Hi, Grant!” Lian shrieks from the backseat.

“Hey, munchkin!” Grant replies. “You being good for Santa?”

“No!”

Grant laughs. “That’s my girl.”

Roy snorts. “Hey, speaking of Santa, you decide what you want to do for Christmas this year? Offer still stands, man. We’d love to have you.”

“Oh, nah, that’s okay,” Grant says. “You know Al Rothstein? Atom Smasher? He and his mom don’t do Christmas, but they invited me to get Chinese food and go to the movies with them, and they’re sort of family, so I figured…”

He actually sounds pleased about it, which is a welcome change considering how rough the past few years have been on him. Roy had been expecting to have to cajole Grant into flying out to spend Christmas with him and Lian, but this…this is better. It is.

“Oh, that’s great,” he says. “Really, Grant, I’m glad.”

They only chat for a minute or two after that. Roy’s exhaustion is catching up with him, and it’s late in New York. When he hangs up, the silence in the car feels heavy.

It’s a good thing that Grant has other people in his life. Roy feels like he’s had to remind himself of a lot of good things lately. But really, it is. Roy lives on the other side of the country and his schedule is packed enough as it is—and besides, Grant is an adult now, technically. To feel disappointed that an orphaned, traumatized teenager is no longer emotionally dependent on him would be the height of selfishness.

Or hell, maybe he just misses the guy.

He glances at Lian in the rearview mirror. She looks as subdued as he feels.

“You okay, little squeaker?” he asks.

“I wanted Grant to come for Christmas,” she says.

Yeah. “I know, baby,” he says. “But we’ll make a plan to see him soon, okay?”

She nods, but Roy can’t help wondering if she’s thinking about the other person she wants to see next week.

Sure enough, when he’s unbuckling her from her booster seat, she asks, “Is Mommy going to be here on Christmas?”

Sometimes Roy wishes he didn’t have a policy of not lying to his kid. “I don’t know yet, baby,” he says, and lifts her down from the car. “I hope so. I know she wants to see you. She loves you so much.”

Lian just nods and trudges up the driveway. Roy watches her, his heart in his throat.

The mailbox is stuffed full, and Lian’s mood lifts when she sees how much of it is addressed to her. “Look, Daddy, look!” she says when they get inside and discover that it’s all holiday cards from her classmates. “It’s from Lacey!”

Roy looks at the perfectly staged professional photo of Lacey, in a green velvet dress and perfect ringlets, posing with Gretchen and what must be Mr. Lacey’s Dad. He looks mind-numbingly boring, but he also looks like he’s definitely never done heroin, so there’s that.

“These are great!” Roy says, forcing cheer into his voice. “Let’s put them on the fridge and then you need to get ready for bed, okay? It’s late.”

Once Lian is asleep, Roy stands in the kitchen and counts the cards. There are nine of them, most of them perfect family photos. Nine sets of parents who are more on the ball than he is.

He snaps a picture of the fridge and sends it to Jason.

xmas cards from lians classmates. was i supposed to do that?
i dont even have a good photo for a card
am i a shitty father?

He’s brushing his teeth when Jason’s response comes through.

You’re not a shitty father. Trust me, I’d know.

It’s followed by a photo, one Jason must have taken the last time he was in Star City. It’s of Roy and Lian, sitting next to each other in a booth at their favorite diner, laughing as they make hideous faces at each other. Roy didn’t even know Jason was taking a picture.

oh good u got my good side
i just
i feel like i’m fucking up all the time
like i can’t keep up

You know you don’t actually have to be perfect to still be a good dad, right?
It’s not like archery. You don’t have to be on target every single time.

Roy cracks up, feeling the weight lift off his shoulders for the second time that day, at least a little bit.

jaybird the inspirational speaker! how long have you been working on that 1?

Shut up. See if I say anything nice to you ever again.

lol love u too jay

He sends it without thinking and then bites his lip, waiting for whatever response he’s going to get—if he even gets one at all. It feels like a long wait before Jason replies, but that’s probably just Roy catastrophizing, because all Jason texts back is a rolling eyes emoji.

Right. Roy is an idiot. He breathes out and pushes it away to take stock of the disaster area that is his home. He doesn’t have time to be ridiculous about Jason. He doesn’t even have time to sleep, not yet, though his bones ache with exhaustion. He has work to do.

*

December 23rd

Roy winces as Donna flushes out the wound on his shoulder with warm water. He really hadn’t wanted to miss yet another meeting today, but once a Titan, always a Titan, right? So when Donna had called and said the Hive was up to their old tricks, of course Roy had saddled up like he was expected to. And now he’s got a bum arm two days before Christmas.

But hey, at least they won.

“How’s your mobility?” Dick asks from where he’s laying out the sutures.

“It’s fine,” Roy says, rotating his shoulder a little and wincing again as it pulls on the cut. “I mean, it hurts, but I don’t think the joint is damaged.”

Donna presses a clean cloth to the wound, mopping up the blood and water so that Dick can work. “Well, you’ll have another battle scar, but on Themyscira that would give you even more bragging rights.”

“Yeah, well, here it just means I’m an archer who’s gonna be useless until it heals,” Roy says.

Dick looks up, and Roy can tell he’s making eye contact with Donna over Roy’s shoulder. He knows his response came out harsher than he’d meant it to, but the feeling of being silently discussed doesn’t improve his mood any. But his shoulder hurts, and his head hurts, and he’s so. Fucking. Tired.

“I have a little salve of Asclepius with me, it should help you heal faster,” Donna offers.

“Thanks,” Roy mumbles, and pretends not to notice her and Dick exchanging another look. He knows he’s not giving the expected response—winking at Donna over his shoulder and asking if she wants to play nurse, or something along those lines. The usual Harper charm. But even if it’s a joke, even if it’ll make her laugh, he’s not in the mood to be turned down right now.

The Titans jet flies steadily back towards the Tower. Kori is a good pilot, with probably the steadiest hand of any of them. Vic and Garth are up front keeping her company; Wally is fidgeting between Raven and Gar, clearly wishing he’d skipped the flight and simply run home.

He reaches across the aisle and pokes Roy’s ankle with the toe of his boot. “Hey, cheer up, it’s Christmas Eve Eve,” he says. “Is Lian excited?”

Roy tries to brighten. “Yeah,” he says, and leaves out the bit where Lian would be more excited if he could confirm that she’d be seeing her mother in two days. There’s still been no word from Jade. “How about Irey and Jai?”

“Driving me and Linda nuts,” Wally says fondly. “I had to store their presents on the Watchtower because I don’t trust them. Linda’s too, actually. She’s an even bigger snoop than they are.”

“What did you get her?” Donna asks.

“This really nice luggage set. Monogrammed and everything,” Wally says. “We’ve been wanting to travel more, now that the kids are a bit older, and you know I hate lugging crap around when I could just run home and get whatever I need, but Linda actually likes to have her things with her.” He shakes his head at this unfathomable quirk of his wife’s. “We’re surprising the kids with a trip to Disney World as part of their Christmas present, so it’s perfect.”

“Sweet, get ‘em out of school for a few days,” Gar says. “Wait, do they have school today?”

“Nah, they’re off, but Barry and Iris have them tonight. Which means Linda and I will have the house to ourselves. Some hot cocoa, a little Nat King Cole…” He raises his voice. “Hey Kori, can’t this thing go any faster?”

“Perhaps you should get out and push!” she calls back.

Donna and Dick switch places, and Roy clenches his fist against the first bite of the needle as Dick starts to stitch his shoulder up.

“How are Alfred’s preparations going?” he asks, desperate to turn the topic away from the subject of Wally’s perfect home life with his perfect wife before he says something he can’t take back. He likes Linda. He’s glad Wally is happy. God knows he’s earned it. He just…

Dick chuckles. “Ludicrously over the top, as always,” he says. “Sometimes I see Alfred in his element and I realize where Bruce learned how to terrorize people. He even got Tim and Damian to swear to a truce through January 2nd so it’s been shockingly quiet. If Jason stands by his threat not to show up at all, we might actually get through the holidays without bloodshed.”

“Well, wouldn’t that work out perfectly for you?” Roy snaps. “I can’t imagine why he feels unwelcome with his own brother praying he doesn’t turn up.”

He can feel Dick’s startlement from behind him, sees it reflected on Wally and Gar and Donna’s faces. Even Raven’s usual placid expression shifts.

“Roy, I didn’t mean…” Dick starts hesitantly. “Of course Jason’s welcome. He’s family. It’s just…you know how he is.”

“Better than you do, apparently.” Roy rubs at his temple. God, his head is killing him, not to mention his shoulder. He should probably be nicer to the guy sewing him up, but he’s not going to sit here and let someone talk about Jason that way. Not even Dick.

He hears Dick inhale, clearly about to respond, but Donna reaches out and touches his arm. “He’s injured,” she murmurs, like Roy’s hearing went out with his shoulder. “Let it go.”

Roy almost snaps that he doesn’t need to be handled, but he manages to bite it back. He can’t quite bring himself to apologize, though.

Fuck, he’s so tired.

Wally runs him back home after they land, which doesn’t do his shoulder any favors, but dinner’s going to be late enough as it is. He does his best to hide his bad mood from Lian, but she must pick up on it, because she’s quiet and subdued all evening.

He’s just finishing washing the dishes—which is killing his shoulder—when his phone pings with a message. When he dries his hands and unlocks the screen, he sees that it’s from Jade.

I am sorry, but this job has taken much longer than I anticipated, and there are few places with cellular signal here. Do not ask where I am. Just know that I wish with all my heart that I were closer. Tell Lian that Mommy loves her, that I miss her, and that I hope you both have a very, very merry Christmas.

Roy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He expected this answer, after so long with no word. That doesn’t make this feel any better.

When he opens his eyes, Lian is standing in front of him.

“Daddy?” she asks.

She knows already; Roy can see it on her face. He squats down to her level, hating Jade a little for putting him in this position. Hating himself more for not being able to figure out a way out of it.

“I just heard back from Mommy,” he tells her. “She’s not going to be able to come here for Christmas. She has to work. But she’s very sorry, and she said to tell you she loves you so, so much.”

Lian’s face crumples. He opens his arms, and she flings herself into them, so hard she knocks him onto his butt. He rocks her back and forth as she sobs into his shoulder, the two of them alone together on the kitchen floor, Roy’s heart breaking for his baby girl and a hurt he can’t fix, no matter how much he wants to.

When Lian has finally cried herself out, Roy carries her to bed and helps her get changed into her pajamas. He stays there with her, rubbing her back in slow circles until she finally drops off to sleep.

After, he sits on the couch in the dark living room, staring at nothing. His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Jason.

“Hey,” Roy says, noting distantly that Jason always remembers to call after Lian’s bedtime, even though that makes it that much later in Gotham.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asks. “Is it your shoulder?”

Roy blinks. He’d nearly forgotten the dull throb of his injury. “How did you know about—oh, Dick.”

“Yeah, he called me out of the blue,” Jason says. “Said you read him the riot act about not bullying me into spending Christmas at the Manor.”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” Roy says. “But no, my shoulder’s fine. I mean, it hurts, but I’ll live.”

“Then what is it?”

Roy sighs. He could laugh off his glum mood with most people, but Jason Todd is perhaps the most stubborn man he knows, and that’s a high bar. “I just had to tell Lian that Jade won’t be here for Christmas.”

“Shit. How upset is she?”

“Cried herself to sleep, basically.”

Roy scrubs a hand over his face. He wants a meeting. He wants a drink, honestly. He should probably hang up and call Waylon; that’s what a sponsor’s for, after all.

But he doesn’t want to stop listening to Jason’s voice.

“This isn’t on you. You know that, right?” Jason asks now.

“If not me, then who?” Roy retorts. “I’m her father. I’m supposed to fix things.”

“At least you’re trying,” Jason says. “Jade’s a grown-ass woman. You can’t control her. All you can do is make sure that little girl is safe and warm and fed and loved. Are you doing that?”

Roy sighs. It comes out shakier than he expected.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just…I’m so goddamn tired, Jaybird.”

“I’ll fucking bet,” Jason says. “When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep?”

Roy closes his eyes and tries to think. He can’t remember.

“That’s what I thought,” Jason says. “I’m hanging up on you. Go to bed right now or I’m kicking your ass.”

“How would you know if I go to bed if you hang up on me?” Roy manages—a weak joke, but it’s all he has right now. He pushes himself to his feet, turns off the living room light, and points his feet towards the bedroom.

“You say that like you have any proof Oracle doesn’t have cameras in your house.”

“I assume Oracle has cameras everywhere.” Roy leaves his jeans puddled on the bedroom floor and crawls into bed. Being alone with Jason’s voice on the line doesn’t make the bed any less cold, but it’s the best he’s got. “I’m lying down.”

“Good boy,” Jason says, and Roy’s heart beats hard. “Now stay there for at least eight hours.”

“You gonna make me?”

“I’m fucking tempted.”

Roy blames the next words out of his mouth on his exhaustion. “I wish you would.”

There’s silence on the other end. Roy closes his eyes. He fucked it up. He always fucks it up.

But when Jason speaks, his voice is still warm. “Get some sleep, Harper,” he says. “It’ll be better in the morning.”

*

December 24th

Christmas Eve Day

Roy wakes up to his phone buzzing at him. He squints blearily at the screen and sees that it’s a text from Jason.

Open your door.

What the hell?

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Roy pries himself out of bed and down the hall. It’s been nine hours since he dropped off, and he does actually feel a bit better. He peeks into Lian’s room as he passes to see that she’s still out like a light.

When he reaches the front door, he checks the peephole.

Jason Todd is standing on the other side.

Roy stares, then scrambles to unlock the door. “Jason? What the fuck?!”

“I didn’t want to wake Lian by ringing the bell if she was still asleep,” Jason says. He’s got an overnight bag slung over his shoulder and he’s holding a wool beanie in his hands. There are purple shadows under his eyes. “You gonna let me in, or do I have to stand out here all day?”

Roy backs up on autopilot, letting Jason into the house. “What are you doing here?”

“Took the red eye,” Jason says, which isn’t exactly an answer to the question Roy asked, and thrusts the beanie at him. “Oh, and before I forget, here.”

“What’s this?” Roy asks, even though it’s obviously a hat.

“A real hat, because your dumb ass apparently thinks a baseball cap is proper winter gear,” Jason says. He’s already heading for the kitchen. “Have you had breakfast yet? I can make something.”

“Jason.”

Jason stops and turns around. Roy’s still not sure this isn’t a very vivid dream, Jason standing here big and beautiful and bullying in his living room.

“Why are you here?” Roy asks.

Jason’s face softens. “You’re tired,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “I’m here to let you be tired.”

And just like that, Roy’s eyes are stinging, and he can barely breathe. He blinks it back. “I don’t,” he manages, swallows, and tries again. “You didn’t have to fly all the way across the country because I was whining.”

Jason makes a strange, aborted movement with his hand, like he was going to touch Roy but changed his mind. “That wasn’t whining. Believe me, I’ve heard you whine, and it’s usually because you’re bored. This is single parenting at Christmas, and with an injury, too.”

Roy has to swallow hard again at that. What the hell is wrong with him today? Luckily, Jason is still talking, so he doesn’t have to respond yet.

“Speaking of which, how’s your shoulder?” Jason asks. “Dick said it wasn’t too bad, but Dick would try to cartwheel on a broken leg, so…”

“So would you, and we both know it,” Roy manages to retort, and rotates his shoulder experimentally. It hurts, but in a way that he has enough experience to know will heal relatively quickly and cleanly. Still, he can’t hide his wince, and of course Jason’s nosy detective eyes spot it immediately.

“Let me see it,” Jason says.

“It’s fine, really,” Roy tries. “Donna gave me this magic Greek god salve that should help.”

Jason looks completely unimpressed. “Can you even reach it to put the salve on?”

Roy hadn’t actually tried last night, too distracted by Lian’s misery. “...Maybe?”

Jason waits.

Roy sighs. “I’ll go get it.”

By the time he returns to the living room with the salve, Jason has started a pot of coffee brewing in the kitchen. Roy eases carefully out of his shirt and perches on the arm of the couch. The first touch of Jason’s warm fingers sends goosebumps pebbling across his skin.

“Okay, yeah, this isn’t bad,” Jason says, his voice low. He smoothes the salve into Roy’s shoulder, just firmly enough to ache in the good way. “Which is not permission to keep getting injured. You need to take better care of yourself, Harper.”

Roy closes his eyes. “That’s what I have you for,” he says. It’s supposed to be a joke, but the tone is all wrong when it leaves his lips.

“Like you’d let me,” Jason mutters, or at least Roy thinks he does.

Roy opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s only been awake ten minutes and the feeling of unreality hasn’t dissipated—the firm touch of Jason’s strong hands, his gently chiding tone, the smell of coffee that someone else made filling the house.

The problem is that it’s too close to everything he wants: someone there to catch him, to scold him, to care if he gets hurt. Someone to take their turn making the coffee and buying him things that he needs and listening to his fears about all the ways he might be failing his little girl.

No, not someone. Jason.

He never lets himself think it, because Roy has always fallen in love too easily, and this could be the one he never recovers from. But this is the fantasy that has lived on the edge of his conscious thoughts for years. That Jason, who has always taken care of Roy in his own brusque, furtively affectionate way, would want to take care of all of him.

It’s too much—this whole month, this morning, the combined longing and relief of it. It rises up in his throat again, and this time, he can’t manage to blink the tears away before they fall.

“Roy?” Jason asks, sounding alarmed. Still too perceptive. His hands leave Roy’s shoulder and Roy instantly misses them. “Shit, did I press too hard?”

Roy shakes his head. “It’s not my shoulder,” he says, rubbing a mortified hand across his cheek. “I’m okay.”

“You’re obviously not.” Jason comes around in front of Roy, his expression nothing but worry. “What is it?”

What is it? It’s the fucking Red Hood standing in his living room, his brow furrowed with concern because Roy’s having a meltdown for no good reason. It’s Jason leaving his family on the other side of the country to give Roy a goddamn hat.

“Why are you here?” Roy asks for the third time, because Jason still hasn’t given him an answer that makes sense.

Hurt flickers over Jason’s face. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Roy says, too quick, too loud. “No, I just…”

He just doesn’t understand why Jason is here, fussing over Roy’s minor injuries when Jason’s the one who just flew all night, the one with rumpled hair and shadows under his eyes. He doesn’t understand why Jason gave up Dick’s renewed invitation to spend the holiday with his family and came to Star City instead. He doesn’t understand what to do with a gift like this.

So Roy kisses him instead.

He kisses him because no, he never wants Jason to leave, and he kisses him because he’s been wanting to for years, and he kisses him because he doesn’t know how else to say thank you. He kisses him even though he knows it’s a bad idea.

But Jason kisses back.

One hand on Roy’s bare back, the other sliding into his hair, as hot and fierce as if he’s been wanting it as long as Roy has. Roy’s heart pounds in his chest so hard Jason must be able to feel it.

When Jason pulls back, his lips and cheeks are red. Roy adores them.

“I didn’t come for that,” Jason says. “I mean, I wanted…but I didn’t think…I wasn’t trying to…”

Roy can’t help smiling, and Jason blushes harder, scowling ferociously as if it could banish the color from his cheeks.

“Shut up,” he says, even though Roy hasn’t said a word. “I just wanted to help.”

Roy reaches up to touch those red cheeks, not caring about the way it pulls at his shoulder. “You always help,” he says. “And I wanted, too.”

This time, it’s Jason who kisses him first.

“Will you stay for Christmas?” Roy asks several very long moments later.

“If you’ll let me,” Jason says, his fingers trailing idly along Roy’s spine and making him shiver. “I don’t want to intrude…”

Roy shakes his head. “You’re not. Lian will be thrilled. You know she’s crazy about you.”

“And Ollie?” Jason asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Ollie can suck it,” Roy says, and Jason laughs.

“Well said,” Jason says. “Up there with ‘God bless us, every one’ for Christmas classics, really.” He hands Roy his shirt. “Go get the munchkin up, I’ll make breakfast for us.”

“You don’t have to,” Roy says.

“I know,” Jason says. “I flew out here because I want to.”

Roy has to blink hard again at that.

“Besides, I’ve seen your cooking, and I don’t want food poisoning the day before Christmas,” Jason adds, graciously pretending not to notice, and Roy gives a choked little laugh.

“You Bats are so picky,” Roy manages, and steals a kiss before letting Jason go back into the kitchen.

He knows this doesn’t solve everything; that in some ways, it could complicate things more. Changing gears from friendship to something else is never seamless, not to mention Jason lives on the other side of the country. It won’t make his schedule any less packed, or Jade any easier to pin down. And he can hear Waylon’s voice reminding him that he still needs to talk to his sponsor, to go to a meeting, to work the program.

But it feels doable, somehow, with Jason here. Like he’s passed the depths of winter, and spring is on the way. Like he’s not alone.

Looks like it’ll be a merry Christmas after all.