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forlornmelody · 5 months

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Bury A Friend: Chapter 2 -- Say it, spit it out, what is it exactly?

Rating: Explicit (previous and future chapters have smut)

Ship: Jayrose, Roseroy, eventual poly dynamics.

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: As Rose's employers tighten the net around them, she has a harder and harder time hiding her feelings for Roy from Jason.

Note: Aaaah, one of the scenes for this fic was DIRECTLY inspired from the fic's namesake, and was one of the first scenes I wrote for this fic. In my head, anyway. So excited to finally share it with y'all.

---

Two days after the first kidnapping, Rose’s in the same room, but this time her captors didn’t bother with the bag. No, a blunt-force knock out proved much more efficient. Someone else might have died. Rose, on the other hand, has a killer headache. On the bright side, she isn’t going to have a headache for much longer.

“I’m disappointed in you, Wilson.” Why do they always have to monologue? “So much potential gone to waste.” Seriously, Rose has a fucking supervillain for a father. She’s suffered enough monologues to last her a lifetime.

Rose breathes in and out, focusing on her breath the way Joey taught her to meditate, staring down the barrel of the gun as if there’s a light at the end of it.

BANG!

Rose blinks, watching as the woman in front of her, her former employer, flops face first onto the table, blood spilling from her forehead across the steel surface. She blinks again as Jason opens the door from the other side of the two-way mirror, Roy right on his heels.

“You really thought we were gonna let them kill you?” Roy says as Jason slashes through the zip tie holding her wrists.

“Maybe you should have.”

“Maybe they should have made the glass bulletproof,” Jason mutters as Roy helps her up.

—

None of them return to the safe house, as it’s no longer safe. Rather than take any of their vehicles, or those belonging to Bruce Wayne–too many chances of being tracked–they decide to hotwire a generic chimo van. Roy wins rock paper scissors, and so he breaks in with a trick arrow, and hotwires the ignition with both Jason and Rose watching over his shoulder.

“Really-Roy-toy? You’re making a huge mess.”

“We’re only using it once, Jaybird.”

Rose’s head knocks back against her headrest. “Ugh. I could’ve done it faster.”

Roy wipes his brow. She wonders what it would be like to watch it drip down his chest. “Not all of us are blessed with visions, Rose.”

“You mean cursed.”

Jason shoots him a look. Gritting his teeth, Roy says nothing at first, then sighs. “Sorry. Could I get some space here?”

“C’mon. Ginger Snaps needs more room to work his magic.” Jason and Rose snicker together as they exit the van in search of tacos. It’s Tuesday, after all.

There’s a taco truck around the corner. There’s also a line ten people deep.

“Fuck. Maybe we can order delivery?” Rose spins on her heels, but Jason grasps her shoulder, stopping her.

He leans over, his whisper stirring her hair, and making her shiver. “And how would we explain Roy hotwiring a van to the driver?”

“He lost the keys. And we don’t want to pay for a locksmith.”

“Delivery would also take longer.”

“Fine.”

“I know how we can pass the time.” Rose waggles her eyebrows playfully, leaning her head on Jason’s shoulder.

Jason runs his hands through his hair, and it makes her want to mess it up even more. Pull on it until he hisses with pleasure. His shirt pulls up with the motion, exposing a delicious sliver of skin. Rose traces it with her finger and he bats her hand away. “Rose.”

“C’mon.” She grins, giving him a lingering kiss. “No “we almost died so we’re gonna fuck in an alley” sex?”

He matches her grin, despite himself. “Not yet.” He pushes her to arm’s length. “If we’re gonna keep doing this, you have to promise me something.”

“Mm, weird way to ask for a safe word, but okay. I’m game.”

“No,” he snorts. “No more secrets.”

“Jason,”

“Rose. Please. Promise me.” He takes both her hands in his own, kissing them like they’re in some historical drama. The sop.

But it gets under her skin regardless. “Okay. I promise.”

Just when Rose starts to squirm, her phone buzzes with a text message.

Van’s ready. I want carnitas with extra guac.

—

Y’know. Maybe this whole running from death thing is overrated. Maybe Rose is going to save her ex-employers the trouble of taking her out. Anything to avoid this.

The hotel is full of people–good, yes. More crowds to disappear into. More guests for the staff to pay attention to. More noise to mask the sound of their voices. Only one problem, really.

There’s only one room left in this entire hotel. And it’s a fucking honeymoon suite. Only one king-sized bed for the three of them. Oh, an entire kitchenette and a fully stocked fridge. But only one fucking bed. Rose is going to murder someone.

“I could sleep on the couch,” Roy volunteers.

“Absolutely not,” Jason and Rose snap.

The room is too hot to sleep in, even with the AC. These stupid fucking synthetic sheets that feel so luxurious until you’re fucking baking like a cake beneath them. And so, Rose spends the night sandwiched between two very hot guys (in both senses of the word) and she can’t do a thing about it. Facing Jason to ignore Roy and his Old Spice aroma does nothing. And her fucking boyfriend falls right asleep.

She must’ve passed out sometime before dawn, because Rose wakes wrapped in Roy’s arms. If only Rose can extricate herself before Jason wakes–and that’s when she smells french toast. Rose looks up just in time to meet Jason’s eyes, watching her. Does it bother him? She can’t tell. Jason and his fucking poker face. “Hungry?” he asks.

In more ways than you know. Fuck. Does she wake Roy up? Does she let him get his beauty sleep? (Like the fucker needs it.) Rose is almost about to move regardless when his murmur stirs the nape on her neck. Roy tightens his hold, as if she’s a full-size teddy bear.

“Might as well wake him up, unless you want to spend the entire morning in bed.” Jason says neutrally over the sizzle of the frying pan. Is he suggesting—?

Rose stammers, “I swear I woke up like this. I didn’t–” She pries Roy’s arm off her middle and slips out of bed like she’s bypassing security.

A ghost of a smile appears on Jason’s face as he focuses on the french toast. “Roy’s a total cuddle bug. You look cute together.”

Her heart hammers in her chest, and her cheeks flush. Really? She mouths, too afraid to avoid the question out loud. You think so? Instead, she darts to the kitchen and pulls Jason into a kiss, breakfast be damned.

“Mm,” Jason kisses back, briefly, before pulling back. “You’re in a good mood. Something happen in your dreams?”

Rose searches for a suitable answer, but Roy breaks the silence first.

“Huh? What’d I miss? Mm…you cookin’, Jaybird? Save s’me f’rme.” Roy twists in the sheets, tangling himself up further.

Rose is in the middle of coming up with a convincing lie when the vision hits her. Sighting lasers. The countertop peppered with bullets. Jason’s head knocked back by a bullet in the forehead. Red circles blooming on the sheets covering Roy’s body. “Get down!” she shrieks.

Both Jason and Roy duck. They know better than to hesitate when Rose uses that tone. She sees the lasers a second time–in real time, and the sound of the bullets hitting and cracking the granite above their heads. The ping of bullets going through the pots and the frying pans. “Should we call security?” Roy yells over the din, still in his boxers.

“Don’t bother. They would have been called by now.” If hotel security was on their side. Which it isn’t.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you.” Rose needs to concentrate. Lean into her adrenaline rush. Her dad once said she had a brain like a computer. She just needed to use it.

Use it.

Rose waits for a break in the covering fire, grabbing the bag of ice they stuck in the freezer, dumping it on the frying pan. Sorry, Jason. The ice cubes crack and hiss, filling the room with steam, the grease spilling over and catching fire, following the steam with smoke. She needs the phone. But not for a phone call. She pitches the phone at one goon’s head, shattering his visor and knocking him back. The base she rips out of the wall and strangles the next guard with the cord.

C’mon, c’mon. Always living three seconds in the future means she’s always waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. Jason found his pistols. Twang. And the hiss of a smoke-bomb arrow. But it doesn’t hit its target in time. Rose hears the SMACK of a body hitting the kitchen floor. She doesn’t wait. She lunges, grabbing the last goon and ramming him against the counter. Jason stops firing, and the smoke slowly clears.

Roy’s on the ground, and he’s not moving. Shit. Rose should have seen it coming. She should have blocked it. At least she heals on her own. There’s blood trailing down the side of his temple. C’mon, c’mon. Pressing her fingers against his neck, Rose bites her lip as she waits for his heartbeat. It’s faint, but it’s there. “Jason, get some cold water.”

The moment the water hits him, Roy shoots back up with a gasp, and Rose has to hold his shoulders down to keep him from rising too fast. “Easy. You got hit pretty hard.”

Blinking several times, Roy slurs “Rose? Why’re there three’f you?”

Fuck, she could cry night now. “Shut up.” And then she’s kissing him. Maybe it’s the fact he could’ve died. Maybe it’s the way he’s sloppily kissing back. Or maybe it’s those energy drinks he’s always pounding–Roy tastes so sweet.

And then he pulls back, bumping his head on the floor. “Ow.” He opens his eyes, looking up at her. “We shouldn’” Roy’s blue eyes pop against his flushed cheeks, and they slide to the right, drawing Rose’s attention to the man watching this entire exchange. Her boyfriend. Shit. Fuck. Fuck.

“Jason,” Rose says quicky.

He holds up his hand. “Can we talk? In private?”

The air leaves her lungs. Rose manages to nod, stuffing her hoodie under Roy’s head. “Stay.” She mutters, dragging herself out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Jason shuts the door behind them.

“Jason, I wasn’t thinking. I was just happy he’s okay.”

He watches her with his goddamn poker face. Why couldn’t he just be angry? Like a normal person? “Was that all?”

“I swear.”

Jason shakes his head. “Rose, you promised. No more secrets.”

“I’m not keeping any! I told you about my employer–my ex-employer.”

“I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about Roy.”

“There’s nothing about Roy!”

Jason’s face finally breaks–his eyebrows crinkle and his eyes waver, but otherwise he keeps that perfect Wayne composure. “Rose. Please.” He swallows. “I know this isn’t the first time.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She can’t lose him. Not like this. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Releasing the breath he was holding, Jason runs his hand through his hair. “Rose. Listen. Please. Do what you want with Roy. Just don’t hurt him.”

“But–” I love you, she finishes in her head. “I want to stay with you.” Yeah. Safer to say that instead.

His eyes light up as he brushes his thumb across her cheek. “Why does it have to be one or the other?”

“Huh?” Rose’s brain short circuits.

Jason reaches for her hand, squeezing it. “Who says you have to choose between us?” He falters before she can answer. “Well, Roy might.” Licking his lips nervously, he adds softly, “but I won’t.”

“You mean it?” Rose squeezes his hand, and Jason opens his mouth to answer her.

“Guys?” Roy calls out groggily from the living room.

“Shit, Roy!” They tumble back into the living room together.

#Sorry to disappoint you if you were hoping for smut this chapter. I just couldn't fit it in (heh) with the plot constraints #and have it make sense. But I DO promise there is SO MUCH MORE SMUT to come.#dc comics #jason todd #rose wilson #roy harper #jayrose #roseroy #melody writes #bury a friend

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