---- From chapter 44 ----

R: Why are your tongues purple?
D: Cause I had a blue slushie
W: And I had a red one

----

"Phone, keys, wallet, lighter, cigs," Roy chanted to the drying dishes and rotting bowl of fruit of his kitchen, rhythmically patting his pockets and feeling the outline of the items he was insuring he had. He repeated the action a second later when he realized he didn't feel the weight of his cigarettes in his back pocket. He dragged his eyes across every surface of the room; the clean, but cluttered countertops, the dining table, crowded with newspaper clippings and anything that might link back to the line of serial killings he was working on solving. The stove top. He dragged his knuckles across the five o'clock shadow on his face when he still didn't see the small box.

"You're gonna be fucking late if you don't leave soon," echoed from the other room, and Roy walked towards it as if beckoned, "and you know how Dickie gets when he's forced to wait," the voice finished.

Roy entered the room, and Jason was draped over the couch like a swooning maiden in a renaissance painting, his face half smooshed against the cushions as he pretended to be interested in what was playing on the television. Roy's box of cigarettes was sitting on the coffee table in front of him and one burning itself to embers between his index and middle finger.

He straightened up when Roy stood at the arm of the couch and grabbed his cigarettes, chest arching off the couch so he could take a long drag of the stolen cigarette, still talking, "Last time Timmy and I made him wait he ended up performing card tricks to everyone within a city block for nine hours." Jason paused, then; "It was pretty fucking cool, actually. Gotham News filmed most of it."

"He's got Wally to keep him entertained while he waits," Roy said, justifying his lingering in the apartment, "worst-case-scenario they get arrested for public indecency."

Jason shrugged, well-versed in the act of violating public decency laws, and blew another cloud of wispy smoke out. Another day Roy would have poked and prodded him out onto the fire escape, but as it stands he was leaving anyway, and Jason would probably just duck back in as soon as he closed the door behind him.

Roy ruffles the younger's hair as he tucks the box into his back pocket before he turns on his heel and leaves the sixteen-year-old alone in his apartment.

----

His phone buzzed six times as he sped down the lazy back streets and eventually the busy highways of Star City on his motorcycle, and he took the time to pull out his phone and read through them once he had found a parking space in the mall parking lot.

He leaned against his bike, helmet tucked away where it wouldn't be stolen, scrolling through the new messages.

W: Royboy help me Dick i- nfejowafn anlm
W: Disregard that, all is well
W: Isn't it, Dick?
D: Why yes, yes it is
D: Thank you for inquiring, dear Wally
W: Indeed

He sighed, looking forebodingly at the cold, unchanging building that is the mall across the long stretch of the parking lot, imagining the chaos Dick could be causing inside. It could be anything from making balloon animals for kids to literally summoning a demon. Although he supposed lightly as he started the long walk, the latter would be kind of redundant.

He was approaching a woman whose arms were full of bags and watched as she struggled to open the trunk of her car without setting anything down. There was a tug of exhaustion in him that was overruled by his instincts to be a good person and he slipped between her and the car, popping the trunk as he passed and not stopping to see her reaction, even as the hood of the car rose and she called a thank you after him.

The mall wasn't as busy as it normally would have been, and oh, he realized dully, as he checked his phone to see just how late he was, probably because it was noon on a weekday. Wait a sec, shouldn't Dick and Wally be in school? And then again, shouldn't Jason? Shouldn't he?

He tucked his phone away again with a strange mix of disappointment and pride that caused him to grin and shake his head.

When he started walking in the direction of the food court again, the number of people he passed averaged two every five minutes, which means that Wally had managed to foil whatever shenanigans Dick had been attempting. Pretty much every time Dick did anything in public, people flocked to him like pigeons, finding themselves caught in his magnetic pull.

He could hear Dick and Wally's conversation before he could see them, but when he could, his pace slowed. Wally was sitting backwards on a chair, peering up at Dick- who was sitting on the table they had claimed with his feet braced on the back of Wally's chair- with heart eyes.

Dick was using that tone that made it unclear if they were agreeing with each other or arguing, but that either way he was hopelessly in love with Wally, "It's because they're always cooking them in cauldrons and ovens for long periods at lowish heats. If you do that to fatty meat, that fat melts completely and the meat gets tear-it-apart-with-a-fork soft."

God, Roy knew their conversation topic immediately, and he wasn't surprised to see the looks of terror and slight curiosity on the faces of everyone within hearing range. Which was everyone in the food court, because Dick and Wally lost all concept of inside voices when they got this deep into conversation.

"Exactly!" Wally agreed loudly, and Roy noticed a flash of colour on his tongue, "Which is also why they fatten them up with candies and sweets." Dick was nodding in agreement before Wally had even finished, "A meatless, carb-rich diet makes for more tender and flavorful meat."

Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but Wally's eyes glimmered as he said it and Roy knew he'd elaborated for the sake of their audience. So, no, they hadn't gotten so deep in debating that they forgot where they were; they were doing it on purpose. Roy held back a groan. He should have known better than to think Wally could manage to foil any of Dick's plans ever.

Someone stood up slowly from within the crowd, a pale-faced slightly balding man, and he turned to where Dick and Wally had become the center of all attention, softly asking, "Are- are you debating the semantics of," the man paused, and swallowed, "...eating children?"

Roy honestly didn't blame the man for being hesitant in asking, but he had reached Dick and Wally at this point and as Dick's influence washed over him he couldn't stop the words rising in his throat, "Well, yeah. If you get it wrong its a waste of forty to eighty pounds of meat."

The smile Dick gave him was blinding, and goddammit he was a weak, weak man. He nodded at Wally and continued the other's point, "Plus if you feed them a high fat, low nutrient diet, they're easier to subdue and less likely to run away."

----

Roy kept noticing flashes of colour as Dick and Wally spoke, but every time he thought to bring it up he was distracted with either ensuring they didn't get kicked out by security or pointedly making sure neither of them got close enough to see the jewelry store. They were already a few cardboard boxes away from living together, and there were still three months of school left before Dick graduated. He refused to be the one to have to explain to Bruce how he let his son get engaged before he'd even finished high school.

He didn't want to admit to himself that they were already living together, no cardboard boxes needed, because by the same standards that means he and Jason are roommates too, and he hasn't been splitting the rent with Jason.

It didn't occur to him to ask again until dusk had broken and he was halfway home, but when it did he couldn't resist the temptation to pull into the parking lot of the first building he passed, which happened to be a coffee shop.

He knocked the kickstand down and pulled his helmet off, setting it on the front of the bike as he unzipped the pocket of his leather jacket so he could retrieve his phone. He considered lighting a smoke, but after counting them and finding he only had six left, knowing he wouldn't have the time to buy more until Friday, he resolved to get a coffee instead.

R: Why are your tongues purple?

He shut off his phone and grabbed the keys out of the ignition before crossing the parking lot and slipping into the coffee shop. His bike had a nice pair of cup holders, so he ordered two to go and checked his phone again as he waited, finding a dual set of messages.

D: Cause I had a blue slushie
W: And I had a red one

He rolled his eyes, not knowing what he was expecting but not at all surprised, and didn't get the chance to respond before his name was being called out by one of the barista's and his order served.

He took a long, hot gulp of his coffee once he was back on his bike, hoped he had gotten Jason's order right, and spent the rest of the drive home doing the math of how best to divide the rent in his head.