MISTLETOES

for Lianne B.

by Nightchik

Sometimes after patrol, Dick's so tired that he falls asleep before his head hits the pillow. Other times patrol leaves him wound too tight to sleep. Unfortunately, tonight is one of those nights.

He wants, desperately, to go back out. But his leg is sore, and he's supposed to be taking better care of himself, and he's going to try that for a little while. Four a.m. on the morning of Christmas Eve, and he's prowling around his apartment like a caged animal when there's a knock on his door. And it's a bit unseemly, but as he opens the door, he kind of hopes it's a criminal, or a psychopath, or someone he can hit really, really hard.

Oh good. All three.

Roy's holding out a brightly wrapped red and silver present. He grins and holds up a brown paper bag in the other hand. "I brought beer."

Three beers later, and Dick's sprawled out on the couch with Roy's foot in his lap, remembering why he usually doesn't drink. How Roy managed to convince Dick to give him a foot rub, he isn't sure.

"Shouldn't you be home today?" he asks, as Roy wiggles his toes in protest when Dick stops rubbing. So he starts again, and Roy sighs in appreciation.

"I'll be home tonight, and tomorrow. Right now, I'm all yours."

"Lucky me." He's being sarcastic, but he's not sure if he means it. He can't honestly say he's sorry to see Roy. He's almost never sorry to see Roy.

Dick grabs Roy's other foot and pulls his sock off.

"What are you doing here, Roy?"

Roy shrugs. "We never really hang out anymore."

Yeah, that's because he's been pretty well avoiding him, and Roy knows that. He squeezes Roy's foot a little too hard, digging his nails in, and Roy kicks him in the stomach. Luckily, the angle is all wrong for it to be a really hard kick, but Dick gets his meaning. It's always been more about non-verbal communication with them, hands and fists; one shove means "I'm pissed," two more means "Not really"... that sort of thing. Though he's not really sure where "foot rub" comes in the physical lexicon. But it probably has something to do with wanting to fuck your best friend and being in deep, deep denial about it.

"I brought you your Christmas present," says Roy. "You could at least *pretend* to be grateful."

Dick eyes the badly wrapped package sitting on the coffee table wearily. "Is it anything good?"

"It's the *thought* that counts, Dick."

Dick rolls his eyes.

Roy shifts a little on couch and looks like he's falling asleep. "Why?" Roy yawns. "What did you want for Christmas?"

If Roy really wanted to give him a good gift for Christmas, he'd stop teasing and just fuck him already. That's what he thinks he wants.

Roy shifts his foot and accidentally brushes up against him, which is bad because he's already hard, and that's kind of making it worse. He can't tell if Roy notices or not, and has no idea how Roy would react if he did. He's never had any reason to think Roy is interested in men, much less in *him* (unless you count the constant hitting and the persistent stalking), and Roy has certainly never mentioned a *man's* name among the dozens and dozens of women he's claimed to have slept with, so he doesn't think Roy's ever been with a man.

He's also pretty sure he's wrong.

Dick slips his hands under the cuffs of Roy's jeans to rub his ankles, and wonders if it's strange that he finds Roy's ankles sexy. He reaches a little further up to rub Roy's calves. And then purely out of curiosity, he runs his hands over Roy's jeans and feels the sharp lines of his thighs and it's more than a little perverted that it helps that Roy's eyes are closed, and his breathing is deeper, and Dick's *glad* because he isn't sure if he could do this if Roy were fully awake. He has just enough time to realize what a scary thought *that* is before his hand reaches Roy's groin, and he stops thinking all together when he realizes that Roy's hard. As his hand slides over Roy's cock, Roy inhales sharply and the bottle slips from his hand and hits the floor.

Roy arches his hips up to meet his hand and *moans*, and that's all the encouragement he needs. And this is a bad idea, but he *needs* to hear Roy moan like that again, and he wants *more*. He pushes Roy's shirt up and kisses his stomach and he can feel Roy trembling under his lips. He pushes the shirt higher so he can explore the rest of Roy's chest, and he can feel Roy watching him, and he looks up and meets Roy's gaze. And what he sees there surprises him. It's... permission.

He opens the button on Roy's jeans and reaches in, slipping under the elastic of his boxers and feels Roy, smooth and slick and hard. Roy's lips are open and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. So Dick kisses him. And Roy puts his hands on his chest and pushes him away.

"Wait."

It's terrifying for a second, but Roy takes him by the wrist and pulls him towards the bedroom. Which is even more terrifying, but the bed is soft and warm and Roy pulls off Dick's shirt and his pants and boxers, and smiles and kisses him softly. And lets Dick do the same. Lets him hold his wet and sticky cock in his hand, lets him jerk him off, lets him make him come. Roy kisses down his chest and his stomach, and fuck, but Roy's mouth is on his cock and he almost laughs because this is exactly what he wanted for Christmas, or at least it's what he *thinks* he wanted, but instead of laughing he hears himself chanting Roy's name...

***

As he stares at the ceiling, Roy sits up, turning to face him. Dick shifts and pulls the covers a little higher.

"You all right?"

And he's not; he's really not. He and Roy have done a *lot* of stupid things together, and he never thought it would end like this. All the years, all the fights, all the tension, the unspoken trust, and the unbreakable promise to always, always be friends.

Now what the fuck are they?

Dick can't bring himself to look right at Roy, so he settles his gaze on Roy's jaw.

Roy leans forward and gives him a soft kiss and leaps off the bed.

"Wait here."

"Where would I go?"

Roy leaves the room, and Dick takes the opportunity to pull on a shirt and red flannel bottoms. He wants to have something to say by the time Roy gets back, something professional and calm. Something that will fix this. It might not be exactly the way it was, but they still need to work together, still have to see each other, and god, this *cannot* happen again...

He wants it to happen again.

And it's that, more than anything, that hits him like a gauntleted fist to his gut. Because he knows Roy, and Roy doesn't do relationships, and Dick doesn't know how to do anything else.

This shouldn't have gone this way, and he has to think, maybe he can still fix this, and he presses the heel of his hand to his forehead because he *really* shouldn't have drank anything tonight, and *damn* Roy, this was all Roy's fault. Roy came over here and *seduced* him with his stupid beer and his stinky feet.

With his back to the door, he can feel Roy in the room, standing very still and Dick turns around.

"You can stay here tonight," Dick says. "If you want."

Roy blinks, smiles, and holds out a red and silver package.

"Merry Christmas."

Shit.

It's heavy but flexible, a thick paperback.

"Thank you," he says dumbly.

"You're supposed to open it."

He slips his thumb under the corner of the wrapping paper, shaking a little.

"There's a card."

Turning the gift over, he finds a small white envelope and pulls if off.

On the front is a child's drawing of a Christmas tree in green and red crayon, and on the inside is scrawled: "I hope you have a very Merry Christmas. Love, Roy."

The "very" is underlined several times.

"That's nice. Did Lian draw this?"

"No, I did." Roy shrugs. "It's cheaper than Hallmark, and since I have a daughter, I can get away with shit like that."

He tears a strip of the wrapping paper slowly, wishing he had opened it earlier. Now it was awkward. The part of the cover that's exposed looks like a man's back. He tears off the rest of the paper and feels his cheeks burning.

1,001 Sexual Positions.

For gay men.

Roy presses his thumb against his teeth and looks up at him through his lashes.

Roy kisses him. "You're damn right I can stay here," he breathes. "Because I am nowhere near done with you yet."

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