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A Place to Land

Pairing: Roy Harper/F!Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: explicit sexual content, established relationship, domestic fluff, emotional vulnerability, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie

Summary: You never meant to move into Roy’s apartment. The green mug was already there; then came a toothbrush and a few nights that became nearly every night.

By the time anyone says it aloud, Roy has already made room for you everywhere.

Author’s Note: a sequel to A Familiar Gravity (Roy Harper/Green Lantern!Reader), written for this request

The first thing you left at Roy’s apartment after you started dating was a toothbrush.

Neither of you thought much of it.

You had spent the night three times during the first week of your relationship, although the third occasion had technically lasted until four in the afternoon because Roy refused to let you leave before eating something resembling breakfast. By the time you finished the eggs he burned and the toast he nearly burned while rescuing the eggs, you had been summoned to deal with an unauthorized vessel entering Earth’s atmosphere.

Roy kissed you against the kitchen counter before you left.

You forgot the toothbrush in his bathroom.

When you returned two days later, it stood beside his in the ceramic cup near the sink. Roy had shifted several things onto the upper shelf to make room for the face wash and moisturizer you had left beside it, arranging both products on the newly cleared lower shelf.

You noticed while washing your hands.

Roy leaned against the bathroom doorway behind you, wearing sweatpants and the pleased expression of someone who had been watching you discover the changes.

“You moved my things.”

“They were taking up the counter.”

“You could’ve put them in a drawer.”

“The drawers are full.”

You opened the nearest one.

It contained a comb, two rolls of medical tape, a set of lock picks, and a screwdriver.

You looked at him in the mirror. “This is full?”

“I need all of that.”

“In the bathroom?”

“Emergencies don’t respect designated storage areas.”

You closed the drawer. “That sounds like something Oliver taught you.”

“Ollie keeps arrows in his kitchen.”

“Hal keeps an emergency power battery under the guest bed.”

“Exactly. This is responsible adulthood.”

Your gaze returned to the shelf. Roy had placed your moisturizer beside his shaving cream. The two containers sat close enough to touch, looking oddly settled together.

“You could take it home,” he said.

You glanced back at him.

His tone remained casual, but the slight tension in his shoulders suggested he had thought about the possibility before mentioning it.

“I still need it tonight.”

“You said you have an early meeting with the League.”

“I do.”

“And you’re staying here.”

It wasn’t a question.

You turned off the faucet and dried your hands. “I was planning to.”

“Then it’s probably easier if you leave it.”

“Probably.”

Roy’s mouth curved.

You stepped closer and looped your arms around his neck. “You look smug.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You cleaned off a shelf in your own bathroom and gave it to me.”

“You left things on my counter. I solved a problem.”

“You’re very generous.”

“I’ve always been known for it.”

“You drank my entire milkshake the day we met.”

“You’ve held on to that for fourteen years.”

“You’ve never apologized.”

Roy rested his hands at your waist. “I let you keep a toothbrush here.”

“You’re right. The debt is paid.”

His laugh disappeared beneath your mouth when you kissed him.

The toothbrush remained.

Two days later, you left a phone charger plugged into the outlet beside Roy’s bed.

The following week, a green sweater appeared over the back of the couch after you wore it during a late patrol and decided the apartment was too warm. Roy folded it the next morning and placed it on the shelf beneath his shirts.

You found it while searching for one of his hoodies. “You put my sweater in your closet.”

Roy glanced up from the arrows spread across his workbench. “You left it on the couch.”

“You could’ve put it in my bag.”

“Which bag?”

“The black one.”

“You have three black bags here.”

You looked toward the entryway.

One duffel sat beneath the narrow table beside the door. Another rested near Roy’s equipment case, still holding the civilian clothes you had worn to dinner at Hal’s four nights earlier. The third was a small mission bag you had dropped beside the couch after returning from an overnight assignment.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you said.

Roy returned his attention to the arrow in his hands. “I didn’t say it did.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinking you should label your bags.”

“My ring knows which one I mean.”

“Your ring also thinks I need a medical evaluation whenever I get frustrated.”

“That’s because your blood pressure changes.”

“It increased because the ring was talking to me.”

“It was concerned.”

“It called me an agitated civilian.”

“You were agitated.”

“I’m not a civilian.”

“You weren’t wearing your gear.”

“That isn’t how that works.”

You crossed the room and stopped behind his chair. Roy had converted one corner of the living room into a workshop years ago, placing the bench beneath the window where the natural light helped with delicate mechanisms. Tools hung from a pegboard above it, each one arranged with a precision that contradicted the rest of his home.

Your green sweater occupied the lowest shelf of the bedroom closet. Roy had moved two stacks of shirts to make room for it.

You leaned over his shoulder. “You rearranged your closet.”

“I folded a sweater.”

“You moved things.”

“They survived.”

“Roy.”

He set the arrow down and turned his chair enough to look at you. “Do you want me to take it out?”

The teasing had softened around the edges.

You looked toward the closet again. The sweater didn’t appear intrusive. It fit between his clothing and the spare blanket you used whenever the two of you watched movies on the couch, as though it had always belonged there.

“No,” you said. “It can stay.”

Roy reached behind your knee and drew you closer until you stood between his legs. “It can?”

“For now.”

“Very generous.”

“Don’t start.”

“You accused me of being smug.”

“You were smug.”

“I was organizing.”

“You cleared a shelf.”

“You need somewhere to put your things.”

“I don’t have enough things here to need a shelf.”

Roy glanced pointedly toward the three bags near the door.

You placed both hands over his eyes.

He laughed and caught your wrists, pulling them down until he could kiss the center of each palm.

The sweater remained too.

After that, the apartment began collecting you faster.

A pair of boots stayed beside Roy’s near the door because you were tired of taking them back and forth after patrol. Three shirts and two pairs of jeans appeared in the closet, followed by underwear that Roy folded with a level of care you found suspicious.

You accused him of enjoying the task. Roy denied it while holding one of your bras.

You took it from him and informed him that he had lost his laundry privileges.

He reclaimed them four days later when you accidentally turned two of his white shirts pale green after washing them with one of your sweaters.

The shirts joined his patrol clothes. Roy claimed the color made him look faster.

Your favorite tea appeared in his kitchen despite Roy insisting that tea was only hot water with unrealistic ambitions. He bought the brand you liked, placed it beside the coffee, and began making a cup whenever his phone notified him that your ring had entered Coast City airspace.

You had never authorized the ring to send him arrival notifications. It had apparently decided that keeping your emergency contact informed was an appropriate safety measure.

Roy’s apartment slowly became the place where you landed.

At first, you still stopped at your own apartment after assignments. You collected your mail, checked the plants, and exchanged the clothes in your duffel before flying across the city.

Eventually, Roy began watering the plants and collecting your mail whenever he stopped by. Anything important ended up on his kitchen counter, while the rest accumulated in a neat stack beside your green mug.

The clothes could wait until morning.

You would enter through Roy’s balcony door after midnight and find him asleep on the couch with the television running quietly, one arm thrown over the blanket he claimed not to need. Sometimes he woke before your boots touched the floor. Other nights, you dismissed your uniform, showered, and slid beneath his arm without disturbing him.

Roy always tightened his hold once you settled against him.

By the end of the first month, the apartment contained a drawer of your clothing, two shelves in the bathroom, a collection of hair products Roy had been warned not to touch, and a small framed photograph from a summer trip the two of you had taken with Hal, Oliver, and Dinah when you were nineteen.

Roy found the picture in one of your bags.

He placed it on the bookcase between a photograph of the Titans and an old snapshot of himself with Oliver and Dinah.

You didn’t notice for three days.

When you finally did, you stood in front of the shelf longer than necessary.

The photograph had been taken near the end of the trip. Hal and Oliver were arguing in the background over which of them had ruined the grill, while Dinah sat between them with the exhausted patience of a woman reconsidering every choice that had brought her there.

You and Roy occupied the front of the frame.

You had one arm around his shoulders and a dripping ice cream cone in your other hand. Roy was leaning into you while making an obscene gesture toward whoever held the camera. Both of you were laughing too hard to look particularly dignified.

You had forgotten the picture existed.

Roy came up behind you and rested his chin against your shoulder.

“Where did you find this?”

“Side pocket of the duffel.”

“I’ve been looking for it.”

“Apparently not very hard.”

“I thought it was at Hal’s.”

“Hal’s copies have his thumb over half the lens.”

“He struggled with that camera.”

“He still struggles with his phone.”

You leaned back against Roy’s chest. His arms circled your waist, and the familiar warmth of him settled around you.

“You framed it.”

“I had an extra frame.”

“You went out and bought this.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“The sticker is still on the back.”

Roy pressed his mouth to your temple. “You’re very observant.”

“You made room for it.”

“It’s a shelf.”

“It was full.”

“I moved a book.”

“You don’t move books.”

“It was a phone directory.”

“You still own a phone directory?”

“It could be useful.”

“For what?”

“Reaching things on high shelves.”

“You’re five eleven.”

“Exactly. Almost tall.”

You turned within his arms and slipped your hands beneath the hem of his shirt. “Are you feeling insecure?”

“Never.”

“You threatened Kyle over cheese.”

“I didn’t threaten him.”

“You considered cheddar suspicious.”

“It was a difficult night.”

“You were very brave.”

Roy kissed you before you could continue.

The photograph remained between the people he loved.

The power battery appeared during the fifth week.

You returned from a meeting at the Watchtower carrying it beneath one arm, crossed the apartment, and placed it on the floor beside Roy’s nightstand.

Roy stared at the glowing green lantern. “You’re leaving that there?”

“I need to recharge my ring.”

“Here?”

“That is why I brought it.”

Roy lowered the takeout container he had been opening. “Is it safe?”

“It contains one of the most powerful energy sources in the universe.”

“That wasn’t reassuring.”

“It won’t explode.”

“Has one ever exploded?”

You hesitated.

Roy pointed at you. “That pause was too long.”

“Under normal conditions, it won’t explode.”

“What counts as normal?”

“Anything that happens in this apartment.”

“You’ve seen what happens in this apartment.”

“You burn one pot of chili, and suddenly no one trusts you.”

“The chili damaged the stove.”

“The stove was old.”

“The landlord still asks what happened.”

“The landlord doesn’t need to know.”

Roy continued staring at the battery. Green light spread across the bedroom floorboards and illuminated the side of his bed, reflecting faintly from the metal hardware on the dresser.

“Does it have to glow all night?”

“I can reduce the output.”

“It isn’t going to talk to me, is it?”

“It doesn’t talk.”

“Your ring talks.”

“My ring communicates.”

“It insults me.”

“It provides objective health assessments.”

“It recommended breathing exercises.”

“You were yelling at a cabinet.”

“The hinge was defective.”

“You installed the hinge.”

Roy looked offended. “That’s irrelevant.”

You smiled and activated the battery. Green light rose around you as the ring connected with its central power, energy flowing through the band and up your arm in a familiar current. The charge completed within seconds.

Roy’s expression changed while he watched.

He had seen you use the ring hundreds of times, but you had only recently begun noticing how attentive he became whenever the green light surrounded you. He followed every flicker of energy across your skin, his eyes moving from the ring to your face as though checking that you remained beneath it.

The glow faded.

You rested your hand on the battery. “I can take it back to my apartment.”

Roy looked toward you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’ve been staring at it like it’s going to challenge you.”

“I’m deciding where it should go.”

“Where it should go?”

“You’ll kick it if it stays beside the bed.”

“I don’t kick.”

“Kyle said you do.”

“Kyle also steals blankets.”

“He brought evidence.”

“He complained.”

“Repeatedly.”

“I shouldn’t have let you two compare notes.”

Roy crouched beside the battery. “Would putting it beneath the nightstand interfere with anything?”

“It needs enough room for me to access it.”

“What about beside the dresser?”

“That could work.”

He rose and began moving the basket of clean laundry currently occupying the space.

You watched him relocate it to the closet. “You don’t mind?”

“The green night-light is going to take some adjustment.”

“I can dim it.”

“It’s fine.”

“Roy.”

He looked at you.

“This is Corps equipment.”

“I know.”

“It might be here for a while.”

“I know that too.”

The warmth gathering beneath your ribs had nothing to do with the ring.

Roy placed the battery beside the dresser and adjusted it until it sat straight against the wall. Then he stepped back, examined the placement, and nodded to himself.

“There,” he said. “Now you won’t break your toes.”

“My ring would protect me.”

“Your ring shouldn’t have to protect you in your own bedroom.”

“It isn’t my bedroom.”

Roy’s attention shifted toward you.

The words had left your mouth without thought, but they seemed to linger in the room longer than they should have.

You looked away first. “The battery is mine. The room isn’t.”

“Right.”

Roy’s answer was quiet.

You crossed the bedroom and slid your arms around his waist. He accepted the embrace immediately, although something in his posture remained restrained.

“The battery can stay,” he said into your hair.

“For now?”

“As long as you want.”

You kissed the center of his chest through his shirt.

The battery stayed.

By your sixth week back on Earth, you had slept at your apartment twice.

The first night had followed a late League meeting at a facility near your apartment. You were due back at the Watchtower early the next morning, so crossing the city to Roy’s only to turn around a few hours later felt pointless. The second had been an accident. You had gone home to collect a few things you still needed, sat down on the edge of your bed, and woken four hours later to eleven messages from Roy.

The first asked whether you had arrived safely.

The second said he knew your ring would have warned him if you had been injured, but he didn’t appreciate being ignored.

The third contained a picture of the pasta he had made.

The fourth corrected the caption to specify that the pasta had been made from scratch.

The fifth accused you of doubting him.

The remaining messages became increasingly dramatic, ending with a photograph of Roy lying alone on the couch while holding the blanket you usually stole.

YOU ABANDONED BOTH OF US

You flew to his apartment before sunrise.

Roy watched you eat the reheated pasta while he complained about your communication skills.

You told him it needed salt.

He refused to speak to you for almost three minutes.

Despite the growing accumulation of your belongings, neither of you discussed what was happening until dinner at Hal’s.

The evening began ordinarily enough.

Hal cooked too much food because you had mentioned being hungry six hours earlier. Oliver brought wine, and Dinah arrived with a dessert she refused to leave unattended near either man.

Roy sat beside you at the table with one hand resting against your thigh.

The casual contact had become common over the past several weeks. Roy touched you whenever you were close enough to reach, as though fourteen years of restraint had left him unwilling to waste another opportunity. His hand settled at your waist while you stood in kitchens, his ankle hooked around yours beneath blankets, and his fingers found yours whenever you walked together.

You had never realized how much of your friendship had been built around the same instinct.

Now he was allowed to follow it.

Hal noticed every touch.

He had spent the first two weeks of your relationship attempting to hide his discomfort behind an aggressive commitment to being supportive. That effort had resulted in several deeply unnecessary conversations about boundaries, an unsolicited inspection of Roy’s emergency supplies, and one dinner during which Hal described the vacuum of space in enough detail to qualify as a threat.

He had relaxed after realizing Roy wasn’t going anywhere. Unfortunately, relaxation had made him observant.

“Are you going back to your apartment tonight?” Hal asked as you finished dinner.

You looked up from the piece of pie Dinah had placed in front of you. “Why?”

“Your plants.”

“Roy watered them yesterday.”

Hal’s attention moved toward Roy. “You have a key?”

Roy stopped chewing.

You answered before he could. “He waters the plants.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“He needs a key to get inside.”

“I know how keys work.”

Oliver leaned back in his chair. “I’m not convinced you do. You lost yours twice last month.”

“I didn’t lose them. I temporarily misplaced them.”

“They were in the freezer.”

“The kitchen counter was crowded.”

“You put keys in the freezer because the counter was crowded?”

“I was holding groceries.”

Dinah looked at you. “How long has Roy had the key?”

“A while.”

“Three weeks,” Roy said.

You glanced at him. “You know the exact date?”

“You made me promise not to use the apartment as an emergency safehouse.”

“Because you’ve treated every place I’ve ever lived like one.”

Hal frowned. “Every place?”

“He climbed through the guest room window twice when we were teenagers,” you said.

“I used the door once,” Roy added.

“You used the roof.”

“The door was nearby.”

“It was two floors below you.”

“Still nearby.”

Oliver looked delighted. “You never told me that.”

“You would’ve been proud,” Hal said.

“I am proud.”

“That’s why we didn’t tell you.”

Dinah cut through the argument before it could expand. “So Roy has your apartment key and waters your plants.”

“Only when she’s gone,” Roy said.

Your ring chimed. A message appeared above your plate.

REMINDER: SECTOR BRIEFING TOMORROW AT 0900. ROY HARPER NOTIFIED OF ANTICIPATED RETURN TIME.

The table became silent.

Dinah glanced at the construct. “And apparently gets updates about your schedule.”

“I only get arrival notices and expected return times unless there’s an emergency,” Roy said. He looked at the message. “The ring started sending those on its own.”

“You made him an authorized contact?” Hal asked.

“He’s my Earth-based emergency contact,” you said. “The ring decided that included arrival notices.”

Hal’s expression softened briefly before concern replaced it. “I’m your emergency contact.”

“You’re also a Lantern. If something happens off-world, someone outside the Corps should know.”

Roy’s hand tightened slightly against your leg.

Oliver looked between you. “That’s sensible.”

“Thank you,” Roy said.

“I’m not saying I like it.”

“You weren’t asked.”

“I’m beginning to regret teaching you confidence.”

“You didn’t teach me confidence.”

“I taught you everything.”

“You taught me how to make chili.”

“That recipe was fine.”

“The pot disagreed.”

Hal ignored them and looked at you. “When were you planning to tell me?”

“When it became relevant.”

“You listed Roy with the Corps. That seems relevant.”

“He’s my partner.”

The word emerged naturally.

Roy’s attention moved toward your face.

You felt the warmth of his gaze before you looked at him. His expression had softened, although he was trying to hide it behind the fork he lifted toward his mouth.

Dinah noticed. She smiled into her glass.

Oliver was less subtle. “You know, when you two finally started dating, I expected things to become less painful to watch.”

“Why would you expect that?” Hal asked. “Have you met them?”

“I’m sitting here,” Roy said.

“You’ve spent fourteen years sitting there,” Oliver replied. “That was the problem.”

You took another bite of pie. “I’m glad everyone remains invested in our personal lives.”

“You’ve made it a community project,” Dinah said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Hal gestured toward you with his fork. “You practically live with him.”

You paused. Roy’s hand became still.

“I don’t practically live with him.”

Oliver looked amused. “You’ve barely slept at your own apartment in over a month.”

“I still have an apartment.”

“One that Roy visits more often than you do.”

“He waters my plants.”

“You already said that.”

Dinah glanced toward Roy. “How much of your closet does she have?”

Roy considered the question.

You turned toward him. “Don’t answer.”

“Half.”

“I do not have half.”

“You have the entire lower rail.”

“That isn’t half.”

“You also have a shelf.”

“You offered me that.”

“You were living out of three bags.”

“I wasn’t living out of them.”

“Your underwear was in one.”

Hal set down his fork. “Please don’t discuss her underwear.”

Roy looked toward Dinah. “You asked about the closet.”

“I asked how much of it she uses.”

“Her underwear is relevant.”

“It absolutely isn’t,” Hal said.

Dinah rubbed one hand over her mouth, attempting to hide a laugh.

You pointed your fork at Roy. “I have one drawer.”

“You have two.”

“When did I get a second drawer?”

“Tuesday.”

“What happened Tuesday?”

“You left more clothes.”

“I was going to bring those home.”

“They’ve been there for nine days.”

“You counted?”

Roy looked at you as though the answer should have been obvious. “I do laundry.”

“You folded them and put them away without asking.”

“You were asleep.”

“You could’ve woken me.”

“You had just returned from a thirty-hour patrol.”

“I wasn’t moving in.”

The words came out sharper than you intended.

Conversation stopped around the table.

Roy removed his hand from your leg. The absence of his warmth was immediate.

“I didn’t say you were,” he replied.

“I know.”

Hal looked between the two of you. “I was joking.”

“It’s fine,” you said.

Roy picked up his glass. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Dinah changed the subject.

The conversation recovered quickly enough, but Roy’s hand didn’t return to your thigh. He laughed when Oliver insulted Hal’s cooking and helped clear the plates once dinner ended, behaving with enough normalcy that no one except you appeared to notice the difference.

You noticed everything.

Roy didn’t touch you while the two of you said goodbye. He opened the truck door for you, waited until you were seated, and circled the front without the kiss he usually pressed to your temple.

He drove with both hands on the wheel.

You watched streetlights move across his face as Hal’s neighborhood disappeared behind you.

“Are you angry?” you asked.

“No.”

“That sounded convincing.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then what are you?”

Roy stopped at a red light. His fingers tightened once around the steering wheel before relaxing. “Embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“I thought you knew what I was doing.”

Your chest tightened. “What were you doing?”

“Making room.”

The light turned green.

Roy continued driving.

You looked through the windshield, watching the road without absorbing any of it. The city felt different from inside his truck. Smaller than it looked from the sky, filled with intersections and storefronts you recognized because Roy had driven past them with you so many times.

“I knew you were making room,” you said.

“Apparently not.”

“I noticed the shelves.”

“You argued about every one.”

“I was teasing.”

“Were you?”

You turned toward him. “What does that mean?”

Roy exhaled through his nose. “It means every time I put something away, you remind me it isn’t yours. The room isn’t yours. The closet isn’t yours. The apartment isn’t yours. I thought you were joking, but tonight you looked terrified because Hal said you practically live with me.”

“I wasn’t terrified.”

“You went rigid.”

“I was surprised.”

“Right.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Agree when you don’t believe me.”

Roy pulled into the parking lot behind his apartment building and shut off the engine. He remained facing forward, one hand resting near the keys. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You could start with what’s actually bothering you.”

He looked toward you then.

The hurt in his expression was carefully restrained, which made it worse.

“I don’t care whether you call it moving in,” he said. “I don’t care if you keep the other apartment for another year. I’m not asking you to give it up or change your assignments or spend every night with me.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

You opened your mouth but couldn’t answer.

Roy looked away and removed the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go inside.”

The walk upstairs passed in silence.

Your boots sounded too loud against the hallway floor. Roy unlocked the apartment and held the door for you, waiting until you had entered before following.

The place looked exactly as it had when you left for dinner.

Your green sweater rested over the back of the couch because you had worn it that morning. Two mugs sat in the drying rack beside the sink. The boots you preferred for Earth patrol stood beside Roy’s, and your mission bag remained beneath the table where you had dropped it after returning the previous night.

The apartment was full of you.

Roy crossed to the bedroom and turned on the light.

You followed.

He opened the closet.

Your clothing occupied more space than you remembered. Roy had given you the lower rail because it was easier to reach without moving his equipment from the shelf above it. Shirts, jackets, pants, and two dresses hung together in an arrangement far more orderly than anything at your apartment.

He opened the dresser.

The first drawer contained your underwear and sleep clothes. The second held folded shirts, exercise clothing, and one pair of Roy’s sweatpants you had stolen so consistently that he had apparently surrendered ownership.

Your power battery glowed beside the dresser.

Roy stepped back.

“You live out of this closet more than the one across town,” he said. “You shower here. You recharge your ring here. You have food in the kitchen and a key on your chain. The ring sends me your expected return times, your dad usually assumes you’re with me, and I haven’t watched anything from our list without you because I know you’re coming back.”

You stared at the open drawer.

Roy continued more quietly. “I didn’t put your things here to trap you.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“Then why do you keep acting like I’m asking for something you can’t give me?”

You wrapped both arms around yourself.

The defensive posture felt strange when Roy was the person standing in front of you. He had seen you injured, exhausted, furious, and frightened. He had known you before the ring, before Oa, and before you understood that the universe could ask so much from one person.

He had never asked you to become smaller for him.

“I don’t know how to live somewhere,” you admitted.

Roy’s expression changed.

You looked past him toward the battery, focusing on its soft green light rather than the confusion on his face.

“I grew up at Hal’s, but even then I was always leaving,” you said. “Training trips became patrols. Patrols became assignments. Then I had quarters on Oa, an apartment here, and space on whatever ship I was using. Everything I own fits into bags because I never know where I’ll be next.”

“You know where you’ll be between assignments.”

“Do I?”

Roy frowned. “Here.”

The certainty in his voice made your throat tighten.

You looked at him. “What happens when I’m gone for two months?”

“I water the plants.”

“That isn’t what I mean.”

“I know.”

“What happens when I get sent to the edge of the sector and miss three communication windows? What happens when I don’t know whether I’ll be home for a night or a week? You deserve someone who can actually live with you.”

“I deserve to decide what I can live with.”

“I don’t want you waiting every night.”

“I already wait.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because we don’t live together.”

Roy stared at you for a long moment.

Then he crossed the room. He stopped close enough that the heat of his body reached you, but he didn’t touch until you lowered your arms. His hands settled gently around yours.

“You keep acting like living here means you have to stay here,” he said.

“Doesn’t it?”

“It means you have somewhere to come back to.”

The room became painfully quiet.

Roy’s thumbs moved across your knuckles. “I’m not asking you to stop being a Lantern. I’m not asking you to turn down assignments or check with me before you leave. I know who you are.”

“You said Kyle fit into that part of my life.”

“I was jealous and being an idiot.”

“You weren’t entirely wrong.”

“He can follow you into space. That doesn’t mean I need you to stay on Earth so I feel useful.”

“You aren’t useful to me.”

Roy raised his brows.

“That came out wrong.”

“Really?”

“I don’t love you because you’re useful.”

His expression softened.

You tightened your fingers around his. “You’re the person I want when the assignment ends. You’re the person I think about when something happens and I can’t tell anyone yet. You’re the one I trust with the access codes to my ship even though you insulted its navigation system.”

“It took us into an asteroid field.”

“It was avoiding a solar flare.”

“It should’ve warned me.”

“You were yelling.”

“It locked me out of the controls.”

“You tried to override it.”

“It was a disagreement.”

“You threatened to remove its central processor.”

“I was establishing boundaries.”

Despite everything tightening inside you, a laugh escaped.

Roy smiled briefly.

Then his expression became serious again.

“I don’t need you here every night,” he said. “I don’t need you to promise you’ll be home for dinner or sleep beside me every time I go to bed. I need you to stop treating yourself like a guest who has to pack before she leaves.”

Your eyes burned.

Roy lifted one hand to your face, his thumb passing beneath your eye before any tears could gather there.

“You’re allowed to leave things behind,” he murmured. “I’ll keep them safe.”

The ache beneath your ribs became almost unbearable.

You leaned into his palm. “You make it sound simple.”

“It is simple.”

“You’ve never lived in space.”

“I lived with Ollie. It’s basically the same level of instability.”

“That’s insulting to space.”

“Space has better communication skills.”

“Hal would disagree.”

“Hal communicates through threats.”

“He likes you.”

“He audited my emergency supplies.”

“He was being supportive.”

“He left a six-page list of deficiencies.”

You laughed again, and this time Roy’s arms moved around you.

He pulled you against his chest.

You held him tightly, pressing your face into the warm space beneath his jaw. Roy’s hand moved along your back in slow passes while the familiar scents of soap, leather, and machine oil settled around you.

Everything in the apartment had begun to smell faintly like both of you.

“I think I already moved in,” you whispered.

Roy became still. You felt his heart change rhythm beneath your cheek.

“What?”

You leaned back enough to see him. “I said I think I already moved in.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t having a medical event.”

“Your blood pressure is elevated.”

“Tell the ring to mind its business.”

“It’s concerned.”

“I’m trying to determine whether my girlfriend just agreed to live with me.”

“You never actually asked.”

Roy stared at you. “Would you like me to?”

“You gave me half the closet.”

“You argued that it wasn’t half.”

“It isn’t.”

“You have two drawers.”

“You gave me the second one without telling me.”

“You left clothes everywhere.”

“You bought my tea.”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

“You keep my power battery beside the dresser.”

“You’ll kick it beside the bed.”

“You framed our picture.”

Roy’s hands tightened around your waist. “Are you listing evidence against me?”

“I’m establishing a pattern.”

“The pattern is that I love you.”

Your breath caught despite how many times he had said it since the night you returned to Earth.

The words hadn’t become ordinary.

Roy looked at you with the same open certainty he had shown in Hal’s kitchen, although the fear beneath it had changed. He no longer seemed afraid that you wouldn’t love him back.

He was afraid you would keep standing in the doorway anyway.

You touched his face. “I love you too.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re very demanding.”

“Lantern.”

“Harper.”

“Move in with me.”

You smiled. “I already did.”

Roy kissed you.

His mouth caught yours with enough force to push you back a step, one arm circling your waist while the other hand slid into your hair. You laughed against his lips, but the sound disappeared when he deepened the kiss and pulled you firmly against him.

The tension that had followed you from Hal’s house shifted into something warmer.

Roy kissed you slowly at first, as though the agreement between you required its own careful exploration. His thumb moved beneath your jaw, holding your face angled toward his while his mouth softened over yours.

Then you caught the hem of his shirt and pulled.

Roy broke the kiss long enough to let you drag it over his head.

His hair stood in uneven red strands when the fabric cleared. You dropped the shirt beside the dresser and ran your hands over his chest, following scars you already knew beneath your palms.

Roy watched your hands move.

“You’re staring,” you said.

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“You agreed to move in.”

“Apparently.”

“Which means I can officially complain when you steal all the blankets.”

“You’ve never stopped me before.”

“Now I have legal standing.”

“That isn’t how the law works.”

“I’ll ask Ollie.”

“Oliver believes every rule can be rewritten if he argues loudly enough.”

“Good point.”

Roy caught the hem of your sweater. “Can I?”

“You know you can.”

“I still want to make sure.”

You lifted your arms, and Roy pulled the sweater over your head before letting it fall near his shirt. His gaze moved over the thin tank top beneath it, lingering on the outline of your bra before returning to your face.

The warmth in his eyes deepened.

“You know,” he said, “I was trying to have an emotionally mature conversation.”

“You did very well.”

“I was vulnerable.”

“You were.”

“I think I deserve a reward.”

“You got me.”

Roy’s mouth curved. “I was hoping for something more immediate.”

“You’re difficult to satisfy.”

“Fortunately, I have several ideas.”

His hand slid around your waist and drew you close again.

The next kiss was hungrier. Your fingers entered his hair as Roy’s mouth opened over yours. He walked you backward toward the bed, navigating around the power battery without looking.

“You’re getting very good at that,” you murmured.

“I’ve had time to adapt.”

“You were worried it would explode.”

“I’ve decided the risk is worth it.”

Your knees touched the mattress.

Roy’s hands moved beneath your tank top, his palms gliding over your sides before he lifted the fabric. You raised your arms, and the shirt joined the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

His gaze dropped to your chest as his fingers traced the edge of your bra. He reached behind you and unfastened it, easing the straps down your arms before letting it fall beside the bed.

The teasing left his expression.

He had seen you like this often enough during the past six weeks that the moment shouldn’t have felt new, but Roy never looked at you as though any part of you had become ordinary. Hunger warmed his eyes, softened by something more tender that made your skin feel hotter than the room.

His hand rose slowly.

The backs of his fingers brushed over one breast before his palm settled beneath it. His thumb passed over your nipple, drawing a breath from you.

Roy’s gaze lifted to your face. “Still okay?”

“Yes.”

His expression softened, but his attention didn’t leave yours.

“I’m never going to stop asking.”

Something warm tightened inside you. You covered his hand with yours and pressed it more firmly against you before drawing him down into a kiss.

His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then lower along the side of your neck. You tipped your head back while he followed the line toward your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin before his tongue soothed the faint sting.

One hand remained at your breast while the other slid beneath the waistband of your pants.

Roy’s mouth moved along your neck as his fingers followed the curve of your hip. Your body shifted toward him instinctively, and his breath caught against your skin.

He lifted his head, eyes dark as they moved over your face.

“You’re overdressed,” you murmured.

“So are you.”

You opened his jeans while he kissed you again. Roy pushed them down and stepped free before guiding you back onto the mattress, his body following yours.

The laughter that had lingered between you faded when he settled over you.

“You love me,” you whispered.

“I do.”

Roy kissed you once, slowly, before moving down your body. He pressed his mouth to the center of your chest, continuing over your stomach while his fingers worked your pants open. He drew them down your hips with your underwear, kissing each newly exposed stretch of skin as he went.

The cool air lasted only until his hands returned.

Roy spread your thighs and settled between them.

You looked down at him.

His hair caught the green light from your battery, red strands edged faintly by the glow. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, then another higher along your thigh.

“Roy.”

His eyes lifted to yours as he pressed another kiss higher along your thigh.

You reached for him, but Roy caught your wrist and held it gently against the mattress beside your hip.

“Stay.”

The quiet authority in his voice sent heat through you.

Your fingers relaxed beneath his.

Roy’s free hand moved between your legs. The first pass of his fingers over you made your breath catch, and he watched your face as he repeated the motion with slow, deliberate pressure.

Your hips lifted toward his hand.

His thumb circled your clit, sending a sharper response through you. Your free hand caught in his hair, and Roy’s eyes closed briefly as your fingers tightened.

He kissed the inside of your thigh once more.

Then his mouth replaced his hand.

Your head fell back against the pillows. Roy licked through you slowly, drawing another breath from your chest before his lips closed around your clit. The pressure built almost immediately, sharpened by the rough scrape of his jaw against your inner thigh.

Your grip tightened in his hair.

Roy made a low sound against you. The vibration sent your hips upward, but his forearm settled across them before you could move far. He held you firmly against the bed, releasing your wrist so he could slide two fingers through your arousal.

“Roy.”

He looked up. His mouth remained against you when his fingers pressed inside.

The sight of him between your thighs nearly undid you.

Green light moved softly across his shoulders. The open closet remained within your line of sight over his shoulder, your clothes filling the lower rail beneath the shelf where Roy kept his gear. Through the open bedroom door, the framed photograph on the bookcase caught a faint edge of green light.

Everything around you felt intimate in a way nudity couldn’t explain.

Roy curled his fingers. Pleasure tightened low in your stomach.

“Right there.”

He repeated the motion, watching every change in your face while his tongue returned to your clit.

You tried to keep your hips still.

Roy’s arm made the effort unnecessary, holding you firmly against the mattress while his fingers moved deeper, each slow thrust becoming more deliberate as his mouth maintained steady pressure over your clit.

Your ring chimed. A construct appeared above the bed.

ELEVATED HEART RATE DETECTED. RESPIRATORY PATTERN—

You dismissed it before the sentence could finish and switched the ring to silent mode.

Roy’s eyes lifted.

“Don’t.”

His mouth curved briefly before returning to you.

His fingers curled inside you again, finding the angle that made your thighs tense around his shoulders. Years of friendship had taught him every expression you tried to hide, and six weeks of sharing his bed had given him the rest.

He felt the change in your breathing and moved faster, his grip tightening around your hip as his tongue dragged more firmly over your clit. Pleasure gathered sharply inside you, pulling tighter with every stroke.

“Roy, I’m—”

His mouth closed around you before you could finish.

Your orgasm broke through you, pleasure spreading from beneath his mouth through every muscle he held against the mattress. Your back arched, and your fingers tightened in his hair while Roy continued licking through each pulse.

He slowed only when your thighs began trembling around him.

Roy pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh before lifting his head. His lips shone.

You stared at him.

He drew his fingers from you and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Roy climbed back over you.

You caught his face between your hands and kissed him, tasting yourself on his mouth. He settled between your thighs, his body warm and solid against yours while you traced your tongue along his lower lip.

His erection pressed against your stomach through his underwear.

You reached between you. Roy’s hips jerked when your fingers closed around him through the fabric.

The reaction disappeared almost immediately beneath a rough breath against your mouth.

“You’re sensitive,” you murmured.

“I’ve been watching you.”

“That sounds like your problem.”

“It’s about to become yours.”

Roy kissed you harder.

You pushed his underwear down far enough to free him, wrapping your hand around his length. He groaned into your mouth, one hand bracing against the mattress beside your head while his hips moved into your grip.

The teasing left his face.

You watched pleasure tighten his expression as you stroked him, your thumb circling over the head before moving back down.

Roy lowered his forehead to your shoulder, his breathing turning rough as your hand moved over him. His hips pressed into your grip before he caught your wrist.

“Enough,” he said, the word strained.

He kissed you again and shifted between your thighs.

“You ready?” he asked.

You guided him against you. “The ring’s already handling contraception.”

Roy’s gaze flicked briefly toward the green band before returning to your face. “Still ready?”

“Yes.”

Roy held your gaze while pushing forward.

The stretch came slowly.

Your body was still sensitive from his mouth, every inch of him creating a full pressure that made your fingers tighten against his shoulders. Roy stopped halfway, lowering his face to yours while one hand moved beneath your thigh.

“Okay?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Keep going.”

He pressed deeper.

Your breath caught as his hips settled against yours. Roy remained still for several seconds, giving you time to adjust. His forehead rested against your temple, and his fingers moved soothingly over the outside of your thigh.

The tenderness made the moment feel more intimate than anything that had come before it.

You turned your face toward his. “I love you.”

Roy’s eyes opened. “I love you too.”

His first thrust was slow.

You wrapped both legs around his waist and drew him closer, your body meeting the next movement until the steady pressure became pleasure.

Roy kissed you as he settled into a steady rhythm. The bed shifted beneath you, its frame tapping softly against the wall with each deeper thrust.

Your hands moved over Roy’s back. Muscle tightened beneath your palms as he drove into you, each motion controlled enough to make the growing need feel deliberate. Roy knew how to draw things out when he wanted to, holding himself back until you were clinging to him and trying to pull him deeper with your legs.

“Roy.”

His mouth moved against your neck. “I know.”

He shifted his weight, and the new angle drove him deeper, rubbing against the place his fingers had already left sensitive.

Your legs tightened around him.

His expression tightened when he felt the reaction. “There?”

You nodded.

Roy repeated the motion. Pleasure built again, slower than before but heavier, each thrust pushing it through you until your breathing matched the rhythm of his body.

His hand moved between you. The first circle of his thumb over your clit made you clench around him.

Roy groaned. His forehead dropped against yours, and the careful pace broke.

He fucked you harder, his hips striking yours while his thumb maintained its pressure. Each thrust drove the pleasure higher until your body tightened around him.

You held on to him.

Beyond his shoulder, the power battery cast green light across the clothes he had made room for. You were surrounded by evidence that Roy had expected you to return.

The realization tightened around the pleasure gathering inside you. “Roy.”

He lifted his head.

“I’m close.”

His hand moved faster. “Come for me.”

The words were rough with his own restraint.

Your ring warmed briefly against your finger, silently registering the change in your pulse.

Roy drove into you again.

The tension broke.

Your orgasm moved through you with enough force to make every muscle tighten around him. Roy kissed you through it, swallowing the sound that left your throat while his hand continued circling your clit.

You clenched around him, and his rhythm faltered.

Roy buried his face against your neck, thrusting twice more before his body went tense. His groan warmed your skin as he came inside you, his hips pressing firmly against yours while you continued pulsing around him.

For several seconds, neither of you moved.

Your breathing filled the room.

Roy’s weight settled carefully over you without becoming too heavy. His mouth found the side of your throat, pressing a soft kiss over the pulse his lips had followed earlier.

Your fingers moved through his hair while your breathing slowly steadied.

Roy pressed another kiss to your throat and remained there for a moment, holding you as though neither of you had anywhere else to be.

The softness of the gesture settled through you more deeply than the pleasure still fading from your body. His eyes moved over your face, checking for discomfort before he carefully pulled out. A warm trace of his release followed, and Roy glanced down before getting up with a grunt.

You watched him navigate the bedroom, stepping around the clothing scattered across the floor before disappearing into the bathroom.

When he returned, he carried a warm washcloth.

“You know,” you said as he settled beside you, “I could clean everything with the ring.”

“I know.”

“It would take two seconds.”

“I know that too.”

Roy cleaned you gently.

His attention remained focused, one hand holding your thigh while the warm cloth moved over sensitive skin. When he finished, he took the washcloth back to the bathroom, rinsed it, and washed his hands.

You had pulled the blanket over your legs by the time he came back.

Roy climbed beneath it and drew you against his chest.

The power battery cast a soft green glow across the room. You could have reduced it with a thought, but the light no longer felt intrusive. It illuminated the clothing in the closet, the photographs visible through the open doorway, and Roy’s face beside yours.

His fingers traced slow lines along your spine.

“You meant it?” he asked.

You knew what he was asking. “I meant it.”

“You’re moving in.”

“I’ve apparently lived here for weeks.”

“Officially.”

“So I can stop pretending the key is temporary?”

“It was never temporary.”

“Closet space?”

“Half of it, apparently.”

“And full access to the movie list?”

Roy tightened his arm around you. “That depends on whether you stop skipping ahead without me.”

“That happened once.”

“You watched three episodes.”

“You were on patrol.”

“I was gone for two hours.”

You rested your chin against his chest. “I’ll keep my apartment until my Earth assignment ends.”

Roy nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what my schedule will look like after that.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I might be gone more than I’m here.”

“I know.”

“You can’t let the plants die.”

“I’m the only reason they’re alive.”

“They were fine before you.”

“You asked your ring to create a watering system.”

“It worked.”

“It flooded the downstairs apartment.”

“The drainage calculations were inaccurate.”

“You cracked their ceiling.”

“I paid for it.”

Roy’s mouth curved. “I’ll take care of the plants.”

You lowered your head until your cheek rested over his heart. “And my things?”

“I’ll keep them safe.”

The promise should have sounded unnecessary.

Instead, it loosened something you had carried for years.

You closed your eyes.

Roy’s hand continued moving along your back until your breathing slowed.

Just before sleep reached you, his mouth pressed against your hair.

“Welcome home,” he whispered.

Moving the rest of the belongings you wanted with you took one afternoon.

You owned less than Roy expected. He stood in the center of your apartment while examining the three sealed boxes near the door, two suitcases, one crate of Corps equipment, and the potted plants he had kept alive through stubbornness and a carefully labeled watering schedule.

“This is everything?”

“There are clothes in the closet.”

“How many?”

“One bag.”

“Furniture?”

“The apartment came furnished.”

“Kitchen equipment?”

“You have kitchen equipment.”

“I have one pan.”

“You also have the pot.”

“The chili pot was destroyed.”

“You kept it.”

“It’s evidence.”

You carried one of the boxes toward the door.

Roy took it from you. “What’s in here?”

“Kitchen things.”

“It weighs nothing.”

“I don’t own many kitchen things.”

He shifted the box, and ceramic clinked inside.

“You packed three mugs.”

“They have sentimental value.”

“One says World’s Okayest Lantern.”

“Guy gave me that.”

“I’m throwing it away.”

“You aren’t.”

You kissed him before taking the box back.

Hal, Oliver, and Dinah arrived twenty minutes later in Oliver’s truck with enough moving blankets and tie-down straps to secure the contents of an entire building.

Hal became emotional when he saw how little remained in the apartment.

You pretended not to notice.

Oliver did notice and spent the rest of the afternoon insulting Hal’s lifting technique whenever his expression became too sentimental.

Dinah carried the plants.

Roy carried nearly everything else, refusing assistance until Hal reminded him that stubbornness did not replace proper lifting posture.

By sunset, the last box had entered Roy’s apartment.

The bedroom closet was reorganized. Your clothing occupied one side, Roy’s the other, and the power battery remained beside the dresser with enough space to access it comfortably.

The green mug stood beside Roy’s in the kitchen.

Your framed photograph hadn’t moved.

Hal remained in the center of the living room after the others finished, looking around at the combined pieces of your lives.

“You have enough towels?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Food?”

“Roy went shopping.”

“He bought ingredients,” you clarified. “The final products remain uncertain.”

“I can cook,” Roy said.

“You burned water,” Oliver reminded him.

“The pan was defective.”

“The water evaporated.”

“Exactly.”

Hal ignored them. “Your ring knows this is your primary Earth residence?”

“Yes.”

“And the Corps?”

“I updated the records.”

Roy looked toward you. You hadn’t told him that part.

Something warm crossed his face.

Hal noticed and immediately became uncomfortable. “Fine. Good.”

You hugged him before he could find something else to inspect. His arms tightened around you.

“I’m not leaving,” you murmured.

“I know.”

“I’m fifteen minutes away.”

“You can fly here in thirty seconds.”

“Twenty-two.”

“That’s irresponsible over a populated area.”

“My ring calculates safe trajectories.”

“It miscalculated the watering system.”

“That was once.”

Hal kissed your temple. “Come for dinner on Sunday.”

“I will.”

“With Roy.”

Roy, who had been arguing with Oliver about the correct placement of a lamp, looked over. “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”

“I’m adjusting.”

“You’ve known me since I was fourteen.”

“That’s why I need time.”

Oliver guided Hal toward the door before the argument could continue.

Dinah hugged you both, told you to invite her over once the boxes were unpacked, and followed them into the hallway.

The door closed.

Silence settled through the apartment.

You looked around.

Several boxes remained unopened near the couch. Your plants occupied the windowsill, where Roy had already adjusted the blinds to give them enough light. Two jackets hung beside each other near the door, red and green beneath the yellow hallway lamp.

Roy stood beside you.

“So,” he said.

“So.”

“You live here now.”

“We’ve talked about it.”

“I’m processing.”

“Take your time.”

Roy slid his hand into yours. “Are you going to disappear if I look away?”

“Probably not.”

“That sounded uncertain.”

“My ring just received a priority message.”

His expression tightened.

You raised your hand before he could speak. “It’s a nine-day patrol.”

Roy exhaled.

“Departure at six tomorrow morning,” you continued. “I should be back by next Friday.”

“Should?”

“Will.”

“You don’t have to change the answer.”

“I know.”

He looked toward the boxes, then the closet, and finally your power battery glowing beside the dresser.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“After everyone left.”

“You found out while Hal was checking the towels?”

“Yes.”

“And you let him invite us to dinner Sunday?”

“I didn’t want him to start packing food before he left.”

“He’ll start tomorrow.”

Roy’s thumb moved over your knuckles. “Nine days.”

“I can decline.”

His eyes snapped toward yours. “Don’t.”

“I only meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Roy drew you closer. “You don’t have to prove anything by staying.”

The old uncertainty tried to rise inside you.

Roy seemed to recognize it. He lifted your joined hands and pressed his mouth to your knuckles.

“Go do your job,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

You looked around the apartment once more.

Your apartment.

Your home.

You leaned forward and kissed him.

Nine days later, green light descended onto the balcony shortly before midnight.

Your ring disengaged the balcony lock using the access code Roy had given you weeks ago, and you slid the door open.

A lamp remained on beside the couch. Roy had fallen asleep beneath the blanket, one hand resting near the television remote while the movie list lay untouched on the coffee table.

Your plants stood healthy near the window.

The green mug waited in the drying rack.

Your clothes remained in the closet, undisturbed except for the sweater Roy had folded after you left it on the floor the morning you departed.

Nothing had disappeared because you were gone.

Roy stirred as you dismissed your uniform.

His eyes opened slowly.

For a moment, he looked disoriented.

Then he saw you.

Relief softened every line of his face.

“You’re late,” he murmured.

“By eleven minutes.”

“You came from space. You should’ve left earlier.”

“Traffic was terrible.”

Roy lifted the blanket.

You crossed the room and settled beside him.

His arms closed around you before your head reached his shoulder, pulling you firmly against his chest. He breathed you in, face pressed against your hair while one hand spread across your back.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

Roy kissed your temple.

“Welcome home.”

credit to @uzmacchiato for the cherry divider ❤️💛

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