baby daddy!roy harper who has done this dance before and is much more pleased with the situation he finds himself in this time that he can’t find it in himself to be shocked. you’re a good person: wholly and totally. you get along with lian. you understand his life as a vigilante. and he knows that your child will be a priority in your life.
baby daddy!roy harper who asks you to move in with him. he knows it’s forward and that the two of you weren’t even dating, but he wants his child to have the experience of both parents under one roof. he doesn’t want lian to miss out on time with her sibling just because her dad wasn’t smart enough to lock a girl down before getting her pregnant.
baby daddy!roy harper who wants to get it right this time. it upsets him a lot that he wasn’t able to be in lian’s life from birth and he wants to experience all of the milestones. he makes sure there’s a room for both of you— even if he has to ask ollie for help to do so. he’s with you at every appointment, cracking jokes and asking questions.
baby daddy!roy harper who flirts with you constantly. there’s a reason he slept with you in the first place and as the pregnancy goes on, he can’t help but be wildly attracted to you to an unprecedented degree. he can’t keep his hands off of you: touching your back as he brushes past you, holding your hand to help you out of the car, laying your feet in his lap as you watch a movie with lian. he wants more but won’t say anything unless he’s 100% sure you feel the same.
baby daddy!roy harper who won’t let another soul say anything bad about you. You may not be his in any official sense of the word, but the bond you share is deep. someone wants to shame you? his roommate, partner, co-parent, mother of his child? they better think again because roy harper is a lot of things, but someone who will take shit from people? not one of them.
baby daddy!roy harper who you had intended to set boundaries with and establish a healthy, platonic coparent relationship with, but the more you get to know him— see the real him outside the archer’s bravado— you begin to realise how much of a family man is… how deeply he cares for the people in his life and how seamlessly you’ve become one of those people. then, you start to wonder if a health co-parent is really all you want?
a/n: something sweet and silly i thought of. enjoy!
cw: idiots falling in love, Roy is oblivious, reader is patient, gn!reader
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...he's just got to figure it out first.
Roy Harper/Reader
Roy Harper doesn't realize he's in love until he's neck-deep. Figures for a man like him who dives into everything headfirst and with nary a caution to the wind, fighting caustic instincts weathered by a life long-lived and hard-endured.
Of course it would be this emotion that eludes definition by him greatest of all. Because he doesn't realize what it is until it's far too late—and he doesn't realize what manner it is, because Roy drowns by degrees.
The first notch is when he's driving you both home from Dinah and Ollie's vow renewal. That n itself was a tidy, loving affair—something you were happy to dress up for with him as he played distantly reticent seat-warmer.
You carried point for social interactions on behalf of you both. This was something he was grateful for and communicated through the familiar clasp of his hand intertwined with yours. Savoring the soothe of your thumb as it became familiar indentation on the curve of his palm.
But it doesn't make impact right away. Not until the two of you drive back to home under the blanket of stars, in the dappled interval of streetlights that illuminate you in dotted flashes down the highway.
It's when he glances over you to you at a stop-light, turning in to confirm what he observed in his peripheral. To see you, slumped in the safety of the carriage, asleep with a soft, lilting snore.
The coalescing of red and amber streetlight bathing you in warm, ethereal glow—a you at peace, who carried him to sheltered harbors.
As he watches you, something twinges tight and low: but then you are bathed in the iridescence of green and he must continue the voyage home. And the moment lingers in the background of his mind with poignant, opaque quality, comprehension of it denied until further notice.
The second moment is when the two of you are in his apartment—you are not 'moved in' but you are in the limbo of 'constant visitor,' and familiar one at that. Familiar enough that you are no stranger to Lian who trundles about the room fighting off the necessity for sleep, even though Roy has gruffly hinted and made dry suggestion to wayward daughter.
This is why he feels something odd and stymied when you open your arms to her. And then, without hesitation, Lian scampers over with a grin and giggle, her own arms yearning outwards.
He can only watch with blunt mystification as you heft her into your arms against the full of your hip and a fond hum against your mouth. And in affectionate fashion, look on as you tuck a wayward lock of hair behind the curve of her ear.
"Time for bed, Lian, huh?" You ask with the firm kindness that takes him twice as long to adjust in his own inflection. Soft, effusive laughter that tumbles from you easily as Lian sighs and agrees with battle-weary, "Okay, okay—"—and recovers with bright, chipper request.
"Read me a story?" She asks in effort to stall for more time—you both exchange furtive glance.
"Does Dad want to read you one?" You defer to father in name and blood. And the way you say 'dad' stirs something paternal in regards to Lian.
But in regards to you—it signifies an emptiness that needs filling. And he cannot comprehend what it is, a dearth of realization as he goes to trade hands for Lian and shares a quiet thank you with his eyes. One that you return by virtue of knowing smile.
And it eludes him still when he reads Lian to sleep, to find you watchful audience to the cozy scene, leaning in the span of the doorframe. When something twists with such painful want that he knows he is crossing the path of no return—but still he remains unaware.
The third time is when he's shambled back from patrol with a bone-aching exhaustion. A physical malaise that commands him to collapse to the acreage of his well-worn, well-loved couch with nary a thought but to nose his feet out of his shoes and take tumble on the cushions.
He's done it before—Lian is over at her mother's. No one is there to need him greatly, so he deems this suitable haven for the night.
It's only when the gentle tread of fingers strokes down the apple of his cheek that he is roused from sleep. That he blinks the drowse from his eyes, to find you leaned over the back of the couch.
"Hi, good-lookin'," you murmur in dulcet tones, careful not to greatly intrude. He manages acceptable grimace, a groan interwoven into his broken delivery.
"Could say the same for you." He returns back. This is the only thing he doesn't do by halves, limbs splayed in capricious fashion on the couch. This is the one thing he means with every stitch of him.
"How about we get you to bed?" You ask gently, but it is clear from the way that you are encouraging his arms up: this is no rhetorical question.
"Who says I'm not there?" He grumbles in good-natured cadence, but he lets himself be led. It's no difficult task when the curl of your fingers make divots of heat on his arms, a heat he gravitates to on instinct.
"I do," your grin is evident in your voice, "Because bed isn't complete without you."
It's this that makes him mentally draw up short, your statement taking repetitive echolalia in his head, tumultuous in the foreground of his mind.
As you dab the dried blood from his temples, bid him brush his teeth, coax him from his clothes. Draw the covers over his body in need of the convalescence of a good night's sleep in dimmed lighting. And then, to devotedly slink under the covers with him.
It is as he holds you, limbs entangled between each other, his leg sliding between yours, his arms trucking around you in possessive manner that he realizes—
—No other has done this for him. Not Ollie. Not Dinah, not Dick, not Jason—none. And the thought makes something grow wanting—and makes him clasp you like buoy in dangerous waters. Only then is he able to finally succumb to sleep once more, with the metronome of your soft snores to lull him back to dreams.
There are more to come, that help him to realize. But they are so numerous it becomes death of a thousand cuts.
It is when he comes back to find a note stuck to his apartment door, message scrawled in your handwriting that says 'See you later, Rocodile.'
It is when he finds you and Lian sprawled asleep on the couch, lost to the drowse of slumber as she rises and falls with each breath you circulate through your body.
It is when you make him lopsided, misshapen homemade pizza but he doesn't care the dough is underbaked—it's the best damn thing he's ever tasted.
It is when his set of keys has yours paired besides his and he realizes he can't remember what it looked like alone.
But the final nail in the coffin is when you have to go visit Kara in Metropolis for her bachelorette party—and the house feels empty. And Lian is with Ollie and Dinah—and he wanders the cavernous apartment that once felt cozy, driven barren once more.
You're busy all night—sending him pictures, text updates that blip across his screen with less attention to grammatical accuracy in continuous interval.
Each of them he clutches to like lifesaving buoy, memorizing the shape of your face, the curve of your smile, the slant of your eyes in boozy joy. And he realizes what he's missing—how it stokes a ravenous fire in him, how it curves under the caging of his ribs.
How it emboldens him on his drive to the airport the next afternoon to pick you up, as he waits for you in the terminal in baggy hoodie and roomy sweatpants.
Disheveled in both appearance and thought, though this is all chased from his mind as he sees you, hungover and radiant as the sun to him. He ambles with marked doggedness to you, accepts your hazy greeting, shuffles your luggage around his arm, and locks gazes with you.
Allows you to gauge the rigid set to his jaw, the determined cant to his eyes.
"Hey," He declares. "I love you."
Without preamble, without distinction—just so. Just Roy, as he battens down the hatches and waits for the proverbial other shoe to drop.
And your smile crests over your face like the dawn. "I love you too."
"Will you—"—He has no use for noble vocabulary when he can offer this—"Will you move in with us? Me 'n Lian?"
Your smile grows by degrees, your eyes brilliant with sparkling quality. How he'll never tire of this sight.
"I thought you'd never ask," You chuckle in good, patient humor—allowing him to realize what an oblivious fool he was. And how he'll never make that mistake again.
And when Roy kisses you, committing the shape of your lips to his in as many times as he can remember, he knows he's in deep. And he's just fine with that.
this is (late) day 2 of my love letters valentine's event! this was the pink heart letter <3
froggi yaps-> this was the result of @/cherryvvave's fave character + trope!! i meant to post this yesterday but lowk was struggling a lot, so i appreciate the patience!! next letter will be posted later today :p
Roy’s mouth is suddenly impossibly dry. He blinks, wondering if between one flutter of his eyes and the next, this entire nightmarish scenario will go away. It doesn’t.
“What?”
“I said,” you take a deep breath, “I don’t want to keep doing this.
“Like, this this? Like us?”
You nod, the motion like a bullet to Roy’s heart. He staggers back like he’s really been shot, face pulled into taut confusion. The air in his room suddenly feels too warm, his skin feverish beneath the fabric of his shirt.
“Did I do something wrong?” His mouth is twisted into a frown, “I don’t…I don’t understand.”
You tear your eyes away from his, knowing if you look at him right now it’s only going to make this so much harder on you. A deep breath quells your frayed nerve ends, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.
“I don’t want the same things as you, Roy. Not anymore.”
“What things?” He laughs humourlessly, calloused fingers running through his hair, “sex? Company? A friend?”
“I never wanted to just be your friend,” you admit bitterly. “I thought—I hoped this would turn into something more.”
He calls your name, stepping towards you, fingers outstretched like if he could just touch you, he could stop this. You recoil, drawing your arms over yourself.
“That’s not fair.”
Your voice breaks. “Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I’m ending this?”
He chews on his bottom lip, a dead giveaway of what’s to come next. A nervous habit he’d developed in the face of adversity, the expression a memorial to everything he’s ever regretted saying.
“I just don’t see why that’s a problem. Why does it need to be more than this?”
“You can’t be serious.” You shake your head at him, collecting the last of your things and starting towards the door, “you’re unbelievable.”
“C’mon,” he tries, trailing after you.
Your hand freezes on the doorknob, the breath stilling in your body in wait. Waiting for what, you’re not sure.
“Can’t I be enough for you?”
“Goodnight, Roy.”
You slam the door in his face, the only sign you’ll ever show of the growing anger in your chest.
The chatter of the bar coupled with the rock music blaring from the speakers is the perfect storm to drown out all of your thoughts. You roll your wrist, swishing your drink around in the glass and listening to the ice clink around the edges.
You figured coming here would make you feel a little less lonely, or at least sate some of the frustration blooming in your chest. It hasn’t.
A man sidles up to you at the bar. Tall, handsome, grinning at you like you’re his next meal. It’s the kind of man you’d chase away usually, that you’d scoff at and send on his own way. But with the fresh buzz of a vodka cran and the open wound in your chest, you don’t.
Instead, you put on your best flirty smile, touching his arm. Conversation blooms easily from there. He buys you another drink, the two of you drawing closer like there’s some magnetic pull between you.
One thing leads to another and then you’re stumbling through Titans Tower, your lips on his and air a distant memory. Despite your best attempts to be quiet, the soft banging sounds of you colliding against walls and on furniture echoes through the high ceilings of the tower.
Not that you care, only focused on his lips on yours and getting some reprieve from the heartache threatening to eat you alive.
You should’ve been more careful, really. Should’ve been quieter. In a building full of vigilantes, it was only a matter of time before some heard, really.
Unfortunately for you, it just happened to be the last person you wanted it to.
The lights in the hall snap on. You pull yourself away from the man in front of you, eyes watering as they adjust to the light.
“What a show,” Roy says, standing at the end of the hall and looking unimpressed. “Real glad I was here to see it.”
Your date, whose name has slipped your mind, sizes up the redhead. He puffs his chest, eyes clearly looking at the muscles in Roy’s arms and the angry expression on his face.
He looks between the two of you. “Who the hell are you?”
You sigh. This cannot end well.
Roy takes a few steps towards the two of you, broad arms crossed over his chest. “Go home, man.”
You step between your date and Roy, scowling at the redhead. “This is none of your business, Roy.”
“Really?” He laughs dryly, “I think it is. What happened to not wanting sex?”
You cringe. He has somehow completely grasped the point and also sent it sailing over his head, missing it by a long shot.
“Maybe it’s just sex with you that’s the problem.”
You’re not sure who is more shocked by the audacity, you or Roy. You turn on your date with a horrified expression, but before you can speak, Roy beats you to it.
“Get the fuck out of here.” He points to the door, “keep your hands to yourself and get the fuck out.”
He looks at you for confirmation and upon seeing your apologetic smile, turns and leaves, muttering something you can’t quite hear.
“Roy—”
He grabs your wrist, dragging you to his room. “We’re not doing this out here.”
Despite the anger he’s so clearly feeling, his touch is still gentle and forgiving, the man you love peaking through. He closes the door with a click and before you’ve even registered what’s happening, he’s pinning you against it.
His lips are on yours, heavy and desperate and pleading. His hands clamp over your shoulders, gripping you like you’re his lifeline. It’s dizzying, the world swaying beneath your feet.
You brace your hands on his chest, the thick muscle of his pecs beneath your palms. Your hands twist in his shirt, pulling him towards you before pushing him away.
You’re breathless, Roy is panting, both of you are a mess.
“You were really going to move on?” He says quietly, “just like that?”
“I—”
“I know I fucked up but I didn’t think I’d lose you so quickly and I—seeing you with him, god,” he takes a deep shaking breath, “I can’t stand it. Please don’t move on.”
“You can’t just ask me that.”
He rubs a thumb over your cheekbone, frowning. “Why not?”
“Because I want a relationship, Roy. I want a-a life and a proper boyfriend and to go on dates.”
“We can do that.”
“I’m not going to force you into something you don’t want and I’m not going to force myself to keep pretending like I'm fine with how everything is going.”
“I want that too.”
It’s as if you’re not hearing him, perpetually talking yourself in circles. “I want you so bad and it hurts that you don’t want me the same way. And every time we’re together it’s all I can think about like this–this crushing weight on my chest.”
“I love you.”
You freeze, thoroughly snapped back to reality.
“I’m in love with you.” His hand trails from the height of your cheek to the cut of your jaw, “seeing you leave, seeing you with him. I really can’t bear to be apart from you.”
“Roy…”
He silences you with a kiss, sealing the deal.
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
this is just a fluffy drabble about waking up with roy
Your eyes fluttered open and the first sight they captured was a disheveled bunch of red hair, a pair of closed eyes surrounded by the same red colored eyelashes, and delicate nose he must have stolen from a sculpture, and lastly a half open, kissable mouth.
Admiring him and just lying there, you couldn’t help but think about how you managed to be with ROY HARPER. He was handsome— hot. He was so amazingly beautifully hot and he knew his best features. He was also a redhead but that was another topic to think about later.
Roy was lying on his side like you. Your faces are close to each other. You pull yourself a little bit back to admire him better, to see more of his face.
You wanted to touch his hair, pull the strands of fire out of his face, stroke his cheeks like he loves it when you do that… But you didn’t want to disturb his sleep. Running between being a father, being a vigilante and a boyfriend, you imagined he was absolutely tired.
He was still the best, though.
You smiled to yourself when his eyes slowly opened to the sight of you. His mouth mirrored your smile as he took his time to wake up. He threw his arm over you and pulled you closer, closer than you had been.
“Morning.” He murmured with a voice burdened with sleep.
“Morning, Roy.” He left a sticky kiss on your forehead and laughed at how it left saliva there. “You’re disgusting,” He used the sleeve of his tee to gently rub your forehead.
“Am not.” He murmured and closed his arms around your body, capturing you in his hug.
“You are also crushing me.”
“You love it.”
You loved it. There was no escape from the truth. “What shall we do today—“
“Stop, stop making me think about leaving this bed. I’m comfy here.”
“What about Lian?”
“She’ll come here when she wakes up. I know my baby girl.”
You watched him close his eyes again and poked his side. He had to opene them again to look at you. “Why’d you do that?”
“Don’t sleep.” You poked once again but this time he caught your hand. “Let’s have a sweet morning together.”
“We are! You, me, bed, morning, everything is sweet.” He set your hand free and put it on his chest. His next move was pulling the duvet on both of you. “Sleep is also sweet.”
“Okay,” You nodded, “Let’s sleep for a while then.”
You saw his smile once again. And before falling asleep, that was the last thing you remembered.
Summary: during a game of Truth or Dare, you're asked to make out with the hottest guy in the room
Word Count: 610
Content/CW -> reader is a Titan, Wally being immature, making out, spit (sorry, kat)
— this is part of my 7k sleepover event! thanks for participating <3
froggi yaps -> anotha one :p shoutout to my buddy for choosing this prompt cause i did NOT know what to write today..hope you guys enjoy <3
The lopsided grin on Wally’s face when you choose dare tells you nothing good can come from this. He strokes his imaginary beard, pretending to think on it despite the glimmer in his eyes telling you he already knows precisely what he’s going to ask you to do.
“I dare you to…” He draws out every word, his eyes unblinking.
You wait, anticipation like anxiety rising in your throat. You sip your drink.
“C’mon man,” Roy groans, “just get on with it.”
“All in favor to skip Wally next round?” Donna asks, and no less than three hands go up.
“Fine, fine.” He rolls his eyes, “god forbid I build suspense. Alright.”
You take a deep breath.
“I dare you to make out with the hottest guy in the room.” He raises an eyebrow, “or girl, if that’s your thing.”
Your nerves peak, stomach churning. Swallowing, you look around the room and assess your options. Donna’s a tempting option. She’s a good kisser, probably the least likely to make fun of you for it, and you’ve always wondered how that lipgloss of hers would taste. Kori, too.
Rae and Gar are immediate no’s, the couple curled up on the couch and barely paying attention to the game. Victor could be promising, currently adding more songs to the queue playing from the speakers behind your head. Dick, Wally, Garth, you consider them all until your eyes land on Roy. Your heart hammers in your chest.
He’s cute. Funny, too. You’ve always carried a bit of a flame for him, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive.
“C’mon,” Wally urges, “clock’s ticking.”
“Shut up.”
He mock salutes you. “Shutting up.”
You feel the weight of eyes on you as you rise to your feet, locking eyes with Roy. The redhead’s throat bobs. He splays his legs from where he’s sitting on the floor, beckoning you in with his hands.
You move to straddle him, a leg hooked over each of his. “Is this okay?”
“Think you can get closer, honestly,” he says breathily.
You shuffle until there’s only inches between you, arms snaking over his shoulders. Roy grabs at your hips, tugging you until your hips are flush to his.
“Alright, West.” You glance at the speedster, “get your camera out. This one’s for you.”
And without another moment to spare, you lean in and crash your lips on Roy’s. It’s needier than you intend it to be, a mess of lips and tongue and spit. One of your hands grazes the tips of his hair, tugging.
Your tongue travels the length of the back of his teeth and Roy moans, actually moans, into your mouth. His fingertips dig harshly into the meat of your hips and you find yourself rocking against him, the friction making both of you gasp.
You pull away gasping, a trail of spit connecting your lips to his. Roy is flushed, a goofy looking grin on his face. You stay resting on his lap.
“Gee,” Garth jokes, “how long have you guys been holding back that one?”
You’re not sure whose glare is harsher, yours or Roy’s.
You turn, sitting between Roy’s legs. One of his hands rests on your thigh, the other tapping rhythms on the floor. The game moves on, with you daring Dick to order you a pizza with his credit card, and Dick making Victor admit he had a crush on April from the Ninja Turtles.
You and Roy stay cozied together throughout the game, both of you eagerly awaiting another excuse to kiss. Then again, do you really need one?
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
Summary: Roy is worried sick when you faint on a mission with seemingly no explanation
Word Count: 1.1k
Content/CW -> sick! reader, cold/flu, fever, fainting, established relationship, reader is a Titan, rare Garth cameo
— requested by anon <3 hope you like it!!
It started with an ache in your throat.
A sudden dryness, really, one that couldn’t be soothed no matter how much water you drank. You pushed it aside, ignored it, moved on with your life. Then that dryness moved to a dull ache and brought with it a fever and chills.
You tried to push past it despite the sweat slicking your forehead and the layers of socks that did nothing to warm your cold feet. The muscle aches came after, every bone in your body feeling like it had been carved out and filled with glass.
It wasn’t your smartest decision to don your suit today, to ride along with the Titans to go help a town following a tornado outbreak. But that’s what heroes do, isn’t it? Put their personal needs aside to save the world?
You’d barely been able to keep your eyes open on the T-Jet, your skin feverish beneath your costume. Dick had nudged you, made sure you were alive, squinted at the glistening skin peaking out from your costume, the slight shake to your hands.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes.”
A lie, a terrible, terrible lie that Dick saw through and chose to believe because benching you for this mission wasn’t an option. Benching you would mean strain on the team, lives lost and unfortunately for him, a very distracted best friend.
Now, in the rubble of a house desperately trying to move debris, you think that decision may have been a mistake.
The wooden support beam that you could usually lift with no problem feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. A hundred feet away, Roy and Garth are digging through the house that used to be the neighbors.
You lift the beam higher. Your arms shake, your mouth fills with sand, lava runs through your veins. A sharp breath, lungs aching and full, vision going white from the heat boiling your head. You clench your fingers tighter on the beam.
Another foot higher, more heat, more pain. Your ears start to ring, the warmth bubbling beneath your skin is nearly unbearable. You stumble, wood smacking against another beam.
It’s unbearable now, your muscles screaming in protest. You’re shaking so bad you can barely keep your grip. You’re about to give up, to lay down the wood and think of another way, when a pair of strong arms grabs the beam.
Roy grins at you, winking cheekily. “Need a hand?”
You can’t even relish in his charm, in the way his arms bulge and his tattoos ripple. You blink at him, eyelids hot and heavy.
“Woah, babe, you alright?”
Sluggishly, you move with him to put the beam to the side. No sooner that it lands in the pile of debris do you take a deep breath. Your lungs empty, the fire in your veins consumes you and then, the world goes dark.
Roy catches you before you hit the ground, arms hooking beneath yours to keep you upright and drag you to a patch of grass. Panic swells in his chest, his heart rate nearly doubling in his panic.
He taps you on the cheek, “baby? Babe? Wake up.”
You don’t stir.
He rests a hand over your forehead, wiping away the sweat he assumed was from exertion only to snatch his hand away. Your skin is hot to the touch.
Garth jogs up to the two of you, his eyebrows knit together in concern. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t—I don’t know,” Roy looks up at him, distraught, one of his hands clenching yours.
“Here.” Garth tosses him a water bottle, “could be dehydration. I’ll call Dick.”
Roy grabs the bottle like it’s a lifeline, resting the cold water bottle against your feverish skin. He listens to the sound of Garth jogging away, waiting until he’s retreated to let his composure waver.
You wake up in bed, your eyes aching as they adjust to the light. You squirm, tensing your arms and letting them relax. Your joints ache hollowly. You blink at where your skin meets the light. Bare skin, covered only by a band t-shirt you can only assume is Roy’s. Your costume is nowhere to be seen.
Forcing yourself into a sitting position, you ignore the way your head throbs. The way everything throbs. You’ve just barely rested your back against the bed frame when Roy comes rushing in, sweatpants hung low over his hips.
“Oh, thank fuck.”
His arms are around you before you even register what’s happening, his head nuzzling into the side of your neck. He breathes you in, squeezing you so tightly it hurts.
“Ow, shit, Roy.”
He pulls away and looks at you with nothing but pure relief. “You had me so worried. Please never do that again.”
He’s hovering over you, body leaning over yours. He’s out of sorts, hair messy and eyes tired with worry. He wipes strands of sweaty hair from your forehead.
“Here,” he says, digging in the pocket of his pants and handing you a small packet of pills. “I brought you these.”
He dumps it into your hand, the packet crinkling with the sound.
“There’s some water—” He grabs it off the nightstand before you can even reach for it. “Here, you need to stay hydrated.”
You swallow the pills despite the aching in your throat, the water soothing some of the warmth coursing through you. You sip it earnestly, the dryness in your mouth fading.
“Did everything go okay on the mission?” You frown, “I can’t believe I passed out.”
He nudges you over, sitting on the side of the bed. “Yeah, way to be dramatic.”
Your scowl is sharp enough to cut through glass.
“Yeah, yeah everything went fine. Cy brought us back early, they’re still finishing cleaning up.”
“Roy!” The sharpness of your own voice makes the ache in your temples worse. You let your eyes flutter closed, trying to drown out the pain. “You should—you should be out there with them.”
“They’re big kids now, they can take care of themselves.”
He pulls himself up into the mattress, cozying into your side. A strong arm gets slung over your body, the other one propping himself up so he can look at you properly.
“Besides, I needed to take care of you.” He looks at you seriously, eyes warm like spring, “you really did scare me today.”
“I’m sorry.”
He rubs his thumb over your cheek, your skin still impossibly warm. “Just…tell me next time, okay?”
“I will, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry.”
He cracks a smile, “and how did that work out for us?”
You groan, sinking into the mattress and letting it soothe your aching body. “Don’t even.”
Roy snuggles closer to you, soaking up the heat radiating off of you. For a cold day like today, it’s not half bad to have his own personal heater. He kisses your temple.
“Is there anything you need?”
Your eyes are already heavy, already relaxed from the medicine he’d given you. “Just you,” you mumble. “Always you.”
Roy smiles at that.
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