Fandom: Young Justice

Story Title: "Love Me Bad"

Summary: As far as you're concerned, the only Roy Harper is the Roy Harper that you've given blow jobs to, so you don't understand why it matters so much. For Morgan.

Character/Relationship(s): Roy Harper/Jade Nguyen Harper, Lian Harper

Rating: Hard T

Warnings: Illusions to alcohol and sex and there is bad language and hints of abortion.

Story Word Count: 1500+

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Notes: HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY, MORGAN. I am totes a better friend than you, xoxo. Though this is really short... you'll be getting something else I promise.

Love Me Bad

i. there's no

He doesn't ask you the way he's supposed to. Roy doesn't get down on one knee, he certainly doesn't have a ring and you're both tipsy and naked. The vodka had been your idea; the sex his.

"I could do this for the rest of my life," he tells you, and even though your heart attempts to beat faster you can't help but snort.

"Which part?" you ask. "The sex or the booze?"

"Not that. That part's a bonus." He grins stupidly, and you realize that he hasn't shaved in a while. Probably not since you climbed through his window. You don't mind, though. A little scruff is nice. A beard however, is a no no. He knows that you won't sleep with him if he has one.

"I could be here. With you. Forever."

"You wouldn't want to stay in this bed with me forever," you purr. "We'd starve, become catatonic. Good luck with that logic."

You know what he's getting at and you also know how badly you'd like to wrap those words around you like a blanket and never let them go. That's why you have to just let them bounce off you; if you let them affect you they'd become permanent, a tattoo on your heart.

"Fuck you, Jade. You know that's not what I meant."

You laugh then, and raise your hands up above your head. You're sore, and it's nice. It leaves you something to remember him by.

As you rise up he grabs your wrist. "Stay," he asks you, and you can't look at his eyes when he does this.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can... Marry me, Jade."

If you two were anyone other than who you were, you would be jumping up and down in excitement. Or crying, or something, something other than wanting to simultaneously jump out the window and root yourself to that spot.

"How much did you have to drink, Red?"

"Less than you," he shoots back and you sit back down on his bed.

You think about it. You think about the way your father choked your mother with marriage, how she had stayed in an abusive relationship because she thought that she had no other choice. You don't want to be that woman. You want a choice. You want to be able to come or go.

But you also want to be with Roy, and you can't imagine wanting to be with anyone else ever again, not really.

"Okay," you say, and start planning a trip to Vegas.

You've always wanted a drive-thru wedding.

ii. such thing as

Married life isn't just about sex, you learn.

Roy isn't as bad a husband as your father, but you hate how he leaves you and goes to the place where the "real" Roy Harper is instead.

As far as you're concerned, the only Roy Harper is the Roy Harper that you've given blow jobs to, so you don't understand why it matters so much.

You find out that the reason that it was so hard to find Roy when you went looking for him when you needed a body under you was because he was always moving.

If he could get there, he would get there, no matter what.

You get tired. So tired. For the first time in a long time you don't want to have to get up and move, but you always want to be with Roy and that means more moving.

But eventually the money runs out. And that brings everything back to a standstill.

You two find some crappy apartment in Washington, D.C. (You refuse to go back to Gotham and he refuses to leave the east coast so you two spin around two times and close your eyes and pick a place on the map. You pointed to D.C. And he pointed to Canada so you won.) and you think finally and can breathe.

"This place could use some sprucing up," you say to Roy one day when it's raining outside and there's nothing to do inside your shitty apartment because there isn't enough money for anything. You try not to draw the parallels to your mother, but it's hard.

"Never took you for the domestic type," he answers. He's on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. You pretend to not know what he's thinking about—or who, the ghost of Roy Fucking Harper—because if you do know you're going to want to claw his face off.

"I am when tree houses are in better condition than the places that I'm living. We live in a shit hole," you say flatly and hope that he gets the message.

"I'll get you some paint. Something nice, like black."

He never does.


Two things get you out of Roy Harper's orbit of self destruction.

The first, is a job opportunity.

You stopped working after marrying Roy, because his sensibilities never matched yours and you didn't want to fight about that. And you were ready to try something new. You've been killing people since you were sixteen years old, and at twenty-one you were ready for a change.

But you've been itching for something to do other than try to figure out how to get more money for the "real" Roy Harper, and so when they ask you to go you go. You lie to Roy, tell him that you want to go shopping. He raises his eyebrows at that but lets you go—in more ways than one.

You come back with blood on your hands and no answers.

The second is your own piss.

You start to suspect you're pregnant after the third month without your period. You don't miss the things, but you know what it means when your uterus isn't fighting you every month, so you go and get a test.

You don't tell Roy. You don't want to know what he would say about it.

A pink plus side comes up and after you put the pregnancy test down and sit on your toilet and try not to cry. You have to hug yourself to keep it all together.

That's when you know you have to leave.

Your first instinct is to terminate the pregnancy, to cut it out of you the way that Roy cut out everything that wasn't related to the real Roy Harper. You and Roy aren't married anymore, not in the real sense of the word. He wouldn't even know.

But you know you can't do it. You just can't. You might be a killer by profession—by necessity—but you never could stomach killing innocents. And your child, the one that has yet to take its first breath, is the most innocent person that you've never known.

You leave the night that you find out after giving Roy some of the best sex of his life—just something to remember you by. You can live for months on what you made on the last job that you took so you get a crappy apartment in Gotham. You said you would never go back but there is only so many places that you can hide and Gotham is a sea full of people that don't want to be found.

When your body starts to balloon you think about your mother. Your stomach gets bigger, your muscles softer. Half the time your ankles are swollen twice their normal size. And yet your mother did this—twice. You can't help but admire her, want to see her again.

You're close enough, but you can't make yourself go. You don't want to disappoint her yet again.

Iii. happily ever after

Lian is born on a Monday, and it's pretty much your favorite Monday of all time.

You're scared shitless because what are you going to do with a kid? But you love her and you would never let her go, not in a thousand years. (You know if they do let her go that they'd just take her to Roy anyway—you put his name on the birth certificate. And you just can't let your daughter go to Roy, not in the state that he's in, not without you.)

So with a baby on your back you try to find a way to help Roy.

Even when he's not with you he is still beside you. The ghost of him hovers when you're alone in your bed, when Lian cries at two in the morning because she's hungry and you don't want to get up.

Doors open for you again when they find out that you're working—the Light always did like you.

And when you find the real Roy Harper, or something close enough, you go and find your Roy.

He's still a mess, but when he holds his daughter like she's something precious that he doesn't know if he can touch, you know you've made the right choice by coming back.