One of my absolute favorite songs of all time, and the catalyst to what transformed me into the finger-snapping jazz head I am today, this tune sings images of Roy and Jade to me now. (And everyone knows the Web could use more Roy/Jade.) Another reposting of the now-dead Songs of Our Lives.
Read, listen, enjoy, review, s'il vous plait! - Nell Fratelli
Unforgettable - Nat "King" Cole
Unforgettable, that's what you are.
Cheshire lay, mask off, in a plush bed. She tossed and turned, rubbed her palms into her eyes. Pressed down with the heels of them, trying to force out the image of a masked archer, looking over his shoulder before leaping out of a dark window and into a roaring storm. Tried to block out the echoes of a deep, earnest voice that entreated her to open her eyes when she had been in a fog. Tried, in vain, to forget the cape she knew to be the man called Roy Harper, who brought her to safety after... Some kind of fight. With... Poison Ivy?
Jade groaned - in both pain and frustration; there seemed to be a thick bandage on her shoulder that couldn't hide the tugging, searing burn underneath whenever she moved her upper body - and wished the insufferable Red Robin Hood had stuck around so she could slice him a new one with her shuriken for leaving her with all these... thoughts.
She patted the tops of her thighs. No sheaths. Her eyes flickered around the dark room; not a single metallic glint.
"Fuck you, Red," she spat to the emptiness, and mashed her eyes shut once more.
He had taken her sai.
Unforgettable, though near or far.
Red Arrow stood alone on the silent rooftop in Singapore, ignoring the music and smoke and sirens of the city below. He was gazing down at his handheld, wordlessly raging at the tracking program that was either glitching out or trying to convince him that Cheshire's signal had impossibly morphed into three little pulsating dots that were beeping all over his miniature monitor.
At the sound of a woman's sultry laugh, Roy jerked his eyes away from the screen and launched himself to the edge of the building, expecting - hoping - to see wild black hair looking back up and chortling daintily at him, perhaps fingering the shuriken that she was so fond of carrying.
But no - it was just another of this wretched city's hookers, giggling and clutching the expensive arm of her next month's rent as they staggered down the filthy street.
Roy swore in frustration, turning his back on the street and letting his eyes travel across the hazy skyline that glared challengingly back at him, gored mercilessly by the craggy and uneven profiles of buildings.
"Cheshire," he murmured to the city. "Where are you?"
How the thought of you does things to me.
He lay in the dark hotel room, Red Arrow spandex and armor and equipment lying beside him on the empty half of the bed where he'd put it all earlier. For hours - weeks, really - he'd been battling with impossible sensations every time a head of unruly black hair would flash through his mind. And to be honest, it was flashing more and more often every day.
All night, the... sensations had been building, stronger and stronger, becoming impossible to ignore or fake nonchalance at. A tingling, burning, demanding hunger that had been gathering in his abdomen that was becoming unbearable. Memories, images, of high cheekbones, full lips, smooth skin, powerful but slender and perfectly shaped legs, narrow waist, and always, always impenetrable dark eyes and that sultry, sweet and sour voice, silkier than her thick mane of hair...
Roy groaned, feeling simultaneously excited and disgusted with himself, as he allowed his hand to slide under the stiff and overly-bleached bedsheets. And when he was finished - satisfaction mixed with crippling shame and loneliness - he rolled over onto his stomach and fell asleep, her name on his lips and her face in his mind.
Never before has someone been more unforgettable, in every way.
At the ripe old age of twenty-five, Jade Nguyen had been with a lot of men, and off the top of her head, she couldn't remember more than a few of their faces, let alone their names.
But now, she was being haunted by the face and name of one man, who she hadn't even seen naked yet. She'd imagined it plenty of times, but that wasn't the same. And the worst part was that it wasn't just his body - she would be able to bed him and forget him, just like every other man, if it had just been about lust.
"Fuck you, Red," Cheshire muttered to the empty room, and slicked a whetstone down the length of her favorite katana.
That's why, darling, it's incredible, that someone so unforgettable thinks that I am unforgettable too.
"Are you following me?"
She didn't bother to hide her delight as she stood, hands on her hips, on the rooftop above Red Arrow. He paused his swift ascension of the building's fire escape to tilt his head up at her. She had foregone the mask tonight, and her wide smile more than compensated for the lack of grinning steel.
"It was a slow night."
She waited until he'd climbed the last few stories and pulled himself up the roof's ledge. There was something deeply appealing at the sight of him scaling buildings to reach her.
When he straightened up to face her, a very manageable arms-length away, he didn't say anything. In the light from the moon, his pale redhead's skin almost seemed to glow, and his ginger hair looked darker than Jade knew it really was. For just a moment, she savored the sight of him - all hard toned muscle, steely resolve, noble intentions, and that creeping whisper of dissention, the shadow of frustration and anger, that pushed and tempted him towards everything he fought so valiantly against.
Having drunk her fill of the moonlit archer, she took a step forward, closing the gap between their two bodies. "I've been thinking about you, Red."
Her hands were pressed flush against his hard stomach. His eyebrow quirked upwards. "Have you?
He must not have been aware of how he was leaning in, leaning down to her.
"Mmhmm." Her fingers danced across his arms. A low groan escaped his lips - surely by accident, making it all the sweeter - and he uncrossed them. "Tell me. Why are you here tonight? I'm sure there's somebody caught in a burning building somewhere, or a cat waiting to be rescued from a tree."
The jibe didn't seem to faze him, strangely, but he didn't reply.
Jade pouted, inches from Red Arrow's face. "Come on, Red," she said, and her fingers skated up past his shoulders and to his neck. The clefts and bulges of his muscles were tantalizing and oh-so delicious. "I'm putting myself out here. How can you leave a lady out cold like this?"
She wasn't quite prepared for it when he mashed his mouth down on hers. That had been the ultimate goal, sure, but she had been working up to it on her own terms, had been comfortable in control. This was certainly out of her control.
He was anything but gentle with her. He pressed against her hard, one hand at the back of her neck, and the other locked tightly around her waist, forcing her against him. The kiss was earnest, as if he were a drowning man and she his last chance at breath.
It was incredibly hot.
After a moment he broke away from her mouth to press his lips against her neck, and she was shocked to find herself panting heavily, although she found it difficult to muster up the proper reaction when his breath was tickling the sensitive spot right behind her ear.
"I'm here because I can't forget about you."
If anything "intimate" seems awkward, it is because I am very new to writing stories, and my one attempt at "smut" is probably clean enough to be in a Disney movie. Desolee. Merci, bonne nuit! - Nell Fratelli