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Normally, when Bruce tells him that the city's looking quiet tonight, that he should stay in and finish his homework, Dick listens. He's not one of those rebellious kids - sure, he questions Batman sometimes, but most of the time putting on a cape and pixie boots seems like enough rebellion for any sixteen-year-old kid.
Only tonight - last week, after a Teen Titans thing, Roy shoved a flyer at him and said, "If your old man lets you stay up past nine, I mean."
Dick glared - tried to glare, but Speedy's grin is kind of - and said, "He's not my old man."
"So you'll be there?"
Dick looked at the flyer. It said Great Frog with a picture of an ugly, stoned-looking frog and the name of a club in Gotham that Robin has been to more than a few times. It's - not a nice place.
"We'll see," Dick said, and Speedy laughed at him like he knew he wouldn't make it. Like Robin is too good for that.
But.
He waits until Batman leaves for the night, and then he puts away his homework, shucks off his PJs and grabs a pair of jeans that don't entirely scream rich boy's heir and the Ramones shirt he borrowed from Roy a while back and never returned. He messes with his hair for a while, then pops open the window and leaps from the sill to one of the trees, climbs down it and across the grounds. He parked his bike here early, and he walks it a little ways before he hops on it, guns the engine and heads into the city.
Gotham's different at night without a mask and a cape; this close to the ground, everything looks brighter, seems louder. Dick leaves his bike a few blocks away from the club. No one checks his ID, or really even blinks at him. He orders a Coke at the bar, and then turns his attention to the stage, where -
The thing is, Roy never really seems that different when he's not Speedy. He's not like Batman, who switches personalities so fast it still gives Dick whiplash sometimes. He's always Speedy - or maybe he's always Roy. But tonight -
Dick knew he was in a band. Knew he played drums, even, but still -
He needs to get closer.
He maneuvers through the crowd, getting beer spilled on him in the process, until he's just a few feet from the front. The music isn't great - it isn't even particularly good - but watching Roy beat on the drums, his hair flying out of the ponytail he stuffed it in, sweat running down his neck and onto the collar of his v-neck t-shirt -
Between songs, the singer announces something to the crowd, but Dick doesn't hear it, because Roy looks up at that moment, wipes the sweat from his brow with a towel and sees Dick in the crowd. For a second he looks surprised, but then he grins, winks, and Dick -
Presses in closer. His hands are on the stage now, and his ears ring with all the bass and drum, and Roy keeps looking at him like he'd never look at Robin, because Robin is a leader, and Robin is responsible, and Robin -
Would never be caught at a dive like this, except to bust up a drug ring.
The show ends too soon, or maybe not soon enough. Dick thinks about leaving without a word, but the crowd behind him is too thick, and anyway Roy ignores the rest of his band cleaning up and kneels down toward Dick instead.
"Um," Dick says. "Hi."
Roy laughs, and his head goes back with it, and maybe Speedy's been putting on a show all along because Dick's never seen him like this. "So," Roy says. "Your daddy know you're here, or did you get permission?"
Dick blushes, scowls. "I - no."
Roy's eyes widen, and he looks behind him for a second, says something to one of his band mates before he looks back at Dick and says, "Don't go anywhere, okay?"
"Roy -" Dick starts, but Roy's off, taking his drum kit apart, cracking jokes with the guitarist, looking back at Dick every few minutes and -
Dick should go. If it's a slow night, Bruce could be home soon, and he'll check in on Dick, and -
"Come on," Roy says. All at once he's standing next to Dick, tugging on his arm and smelling like sweat and cigarettes and cologne.
"Roy -" Dick tries again, but Roy pulls him along, toward a back room the size of a closet, and -
"Hey," Roy says. Dick has his back to the wall, and Roy pokes him in the chest. "Isn't this my shirt?"
"Yeah, I -"
"You got beer on my shirt?"
"It wasn't -"
Roy laughs again, and Dick thinks his ears will ring with that sound for days. "Short pants," he says, "just when I think I've got you figured out, you go and surprise me."
"I," Dick says. "I know the feeling."
"Yeah?" Roy asks. Both his hands rest on Dick's hips. "You like what you hear tonight?"
Dick makes a face. "The music was okay," he says. "But you -"
Roy blinks at him, and it's like - like when Robin tells Speedy he did a good job. "What about me?"
"I," Dick says. Roy squeezes his hips, and Dick lets out a breath, licks his lips. "I couldn't stop watching you."
"Oh, fuck," Roy says, and then his mouth is on him, hot and soft and tasting like beer and cigarettes, like something Robin's never been brave enough to let himself have. "Fuck," Roy says again, right against his cheek, "Fuck, Robbie, y'gotta let me -"
"Roy," Dick says, and those are Roy's hands under his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans, and Dick hears himself whine from a distance, hears himself plead before Roy drops to his knees and licks.
"Oh," Dick says, and Roy looks up at him, eyes dark and huge and nothing like Dick's ever seen before, not even -
"Shouldn't," Dick chokes out when Roy opens his mouth around him. "Shouldn't this be the other way around?"
Roy pulls off with the sort of pop that Dick's going to hear every Teen Titans mission from now on. "Maybe," Roy says. He ducks down, licks Dick's balls. "Thing of it is, though, I've been a Robin groupie for a lot longer."
Dick slams his head against the wall when Roy sucks him down again, and before he can stop himself his hands are in Roy's hair, pulling and grabbing at the sweaty strands, and he trained for years to be quiet, to be silent, but now he can't shut up, can't stop saying Roy's name.
"Roy," he says. "Roy, I - I'm gonna -" and Roy moans around him, doesn't pull off, just swallows and swallows and swallows until Dick is a panting, speechless mess.
Roy stands up slowly, and Dick can barely move, can barely open his mouth, but he says, "Do you - can I -"
"Hell, yeah," Roy says. He opens his jeans, takes his dick out and guides Dick's hand to it, and he's so hard, sticky with precome, and Dick's never done this for anyone else before, but -
"Yeah," Roy says. "Like that. God, Dickie, I want - lemme kiss you again, okay?"
"Okay," Dick says, and Roy pushes in, crushes him against the wall and Dick can't do much more than grip him tightly while Roy licks into his mouth again. He tastes Roy, tastes himself, and Roy's moaning so loud just from this.
"Gonna be all messed up from this," Roy says. He moves back enough that Dick can stroke him again, and he fucks into Dick's hand, brushes his thumb over Dick's mouth. Dick sucks him in without thinking about it, without thinking of anything but the way Roy looks at him like -
"Fuck, Dickie -" Roy chokes out, and he comes, getting Dick's hand and his t-shirt, smashing his mouth against Dick's again.
Roy pulls back, and Dick - looks down at his messy hand and brings it to his mouth to taste. "Oh my god," Roy says. "Don't do that."
"I should," Dick says. "I should go."
"Sure," Roy says. "Curfew, right?"
"Homework," Dick says, and Roy laughs. "Man, I think the last time Ollie worried about my homework was…"
"Roy?" Dick asks. He wants to ask if they're okay, but Roy walks him out of the club, walks him to his bike still yammering about Green Arrow's parenting skills. They stop on the curb, and Dick looks up at him, wonders how different this might have been with Robin and Speedy, instead.
"Hey man," Roy says. He cups Dick's face, runs his hand through his hair. "Get home safe, okay? And if you get caught, just tell the Bat it was all my fault."
Dick grins at him. "I usually do."
Roy punches his shoulder and waves him off. Dick speeds back home, still tasting Roy in his mouth.