Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice, the comic or the show, or any of the characters associated with it. I make no profit from this work of fiction; it is purely for entertainment purposes.

A/N: This was originally going to be a short drabble that turned into, well, this. Written for my lovely Marshy, based off events in the YJGay rp Twitter.

Warnings: Slash, swearing, violence, character death.

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Green and blue are boring into him, though it's only the latter he's concerned with. The latter that he knows is there beneath the blank black of the shades hiding it from view.

For once the ginger has enough sense in him to shut his mouth and let them speak. Freckled cheeks aren't enough to keep him cute when he sneers, lips and brows twisting his expression into a hateful mask at Roy's confession to his significant other. Despite being able to stare down the precisely honed steel of an arrow, Wally doesn't have the courage to watch Robin's face as he responds.

The boy shifts, uncertain, and he can tell by the fidgeting blur in his peripheral that Robin, for once, has nothing to say. He isn't quite fast enough to snare him with words when he moves forward to embrace the wrong redhead. A sound like disgust bubbles as the dark head burrows into his ex's chest.

"Robin..."

"I'm sorry Roy, I know everything lately has been crap, but I still want to be friends. I know you and Wally don't really hate each other, you're just sore over... over your breakups and ther-"

"Stop."

The word is a force, and Robin pauses, looks -stares- at once hurt and confused, eyes like questions he doesn't want to answer.

A painful groan. "You don't get it, do you?"

"I... I do. I think... you're lonely and-"

A gentle push and slim arms slip away, the warmth that the smaller body managed to generate lessening with distance. Roy shivers.

"Look Rob just... just let him go, he's obviously lost it."

That one hadn't even wanted him here in the first place. His fingers itch, but he doesn't spare him a glance. Not yet.

"I told you what I want, who I want, but things aren't- No! Don't touch me. Please."

"But I-"

"NO!"

"Hey! Don't put your fucking hands on him!"

"No Wally, it's okay, Roy just- Roy what- STOP-!"

The click is louder than the speedster's mouth. There's a smile, a quirk, but it doesn't belong to Speedy.

Nor Red Arrow.

Nor Roy.

Neither does the weapon in his hand.

The feel isn't new; the weight, the chill, the security. His hand is steady -he's done this before, held it and known this rush-, and he knows it's probably the only part of him that feels full right now. He also knows that fullness won't last long.

"Roy, where did you get that?"

Robin's voice is soft, muted almost, but there's a sickening tinge of pleading that makes Roy's eyes narrow. He'd never pleaded before, he always accepted or ignored, ignorantly oblivious to the world. To feeling. It's almost a mockery to see it in the boy's eyes now.

"Wasn't that hard t- did I tell you to move?"

Wally freezes as if pierced on the line of trajectory. Only his face dares to defy the ex-archer's will, brows drawing down until his glare is as dark as the one he's faced with. Roy doesn't allow his eyes to leave him again.

"Roy? Roy, look at me, please."

A smile rises and dies at his name on those lips, at the still subdued tone. He doesn't need to see his face to know he's panicked and confused. 'Does he honestly not get it? Is he really that stupid?'

Wally wants to move, that much is obvious. Every line of his form is close to snapping, the tension slipping down to the soles of his feet. It's just too bad that Roy's eyes are glued to him, watching his face, the way he swallows, how long it takes him to blink and the slack of his jaw. 'He knows me too well.' And the realization is maddening. He wishes they'd never been together, then immediately takes it right back.

He wishes Roy was the same person before they broke up.

Suddenly his chest stops hurting.

"Roy?"

Robin's trying again and it's starting to annoy him. He knows, he knows, but he doesn't try to fix. Either let him go or...

"No."

The acrobat is quiet, form as still as his -tch- lovers'. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, and it's like he's been called to the front of the class. His cheeks flush with anger when Roy teasingly tilts the weapon, an eye closing as if to better see down the sight.

"No what Roy? What do you want? I don't- I don't understand... you keep asking to talk to me then you go and do things that... that just..."

Ah, there it is, Dick's voice. The young man smiles, relaxes, keeps the gun level with the runner just ahead. For all the anger in his words there's an exhaustion to the sigh the boy gives that tickles a feeling Roy knows he's wrong to have. It's something like greed and guilt and anticipation all at once, and for a moment ("I love you too.") he thinks maybe he can leave with something more than delusions.

"If you want to go, Roy, then go. I'm done trying to keep you here if you hate me too."

By the look on Wally's face, he's had the word hate shoved down his throat as well. He's only ever seen the expressive green eyes that bright with pain when they'd split, and having Dick breathe those words ("You probably hate me. I've been a shitty boyfriend and a horrible best friend.") is an admission he fails to realize as the boy advances on him.

"Robin-"

Wally shakes with something other than anger for once. The boy doesn't seem to hear him. Any twitch he might have made to move toward him is stopped when Roy hisses a warning and turns his gaze on Robin for a split second.

"What are you doing?"

"You can go Roy, but i'm not going to let you destroy yourself while you're gone. I still care about you, and-"

"Shut up-"

"-and if there's anything I can do to... to make this hurt any less or- I'm sorry, i'm just sorry, okay? I-"

"I said shut up Robin-"

There's silver with his name on it but he doesn't understand, draws closer until Roy snaps and there's a muzzle against his shirt, his chest. Shoulder. Neck. Chin...

"ROY! You son of a bitch don't you dare, I swear to god-" Wally's voice, pure hatred. There's no redeeming himself in his eyes, but he doesn't care.

Roy swallows. Blinks. Ghosts the gun over Dick's lips and swears, swears he can feel the thin, sharp intake of breath. The tip of his nose fits neatly into the mouth of the muzzle, and he doesn't wince when an angry flick sends his shades clattering to the ground. There's no crease in his brow, no furrow as the cool surface of the metal caresses it lightly. More intimate than the pressure on his hand as he pushes down harder to tilt back the boy's head, though, is the look in his eyes. Determined, confused, and uncertain.

He already misses the trust.

"Roy, this isn't you. We might fight and- and we might hurt each other alot but this- we can work this out together..."

Roy knows he should be keeping an eye on Wally, and telling Robin to keep his hands away from him, but his eyes haven't broken their gaze, not even to stare at the gun pressed to his forehead, and -oh god- it's just like-

"Robin-"

"Yea- mmfgn!"

He doesn't realize how much he's missed the feel of those small hands on his chest, the cool dry lips pressed against his own until they're back. It doesn't matter that Dick's body is tense or that his hand is creeping toward the gun now pressed to his temple. It's all he could have asked for. He sighs, and the sudden slip of the barrel to the boy's cheek makes him quiver and relax at once. Robin's fingers are on his wrist now and he can't help but groan as he pulls him closer.

"Robin~"

The boy in question gasps and tugs lightly on his hand, trying to get him to lower it as Roy follows the barrel's path in reverse. A kiss here, a nudge there- brow, nose, lips... lips... lips...

"Nnh- Roy, wait-"

...chin, lips...

"Roy-"

Lipschinneck-

"Roy st-stop-"

There's movement, the boy's shiver and a shift of blue and white. Before either can end Roy growls, tears his lips from Robin's and his wrist from his grasp. In the next instant Wally crumples along with Dick's scream that seems too loud even with the gunshot still ringing in his ears. He'd taken the hit mid-stride, not even a full foot from Roy's outstretched arm, and momentum sends him slamming at almost full speed into the two of them.

Even with the bodies of both of them atop him Roy seems hard pressed to let Robin go. The boy kicks and screams, snarling with Roy's arm locked around his waist, and it's all he can do not to shoot him when he slams an elbow into his nose and sends stars flying across his vision. He can barely see for the pain though it hurts more when Robin finally wriggles free.

"Wally- Wally are you alri-"

"O-ow! Rob watc- ow yeah I- m-my shoulder- fuck-"

Roy's eyes water and spill and he wipes the blood off onto the back of his hand. The exchange only takes a second and Robin is on him again, screaming and livid. He takes four hits, painful and sharp, to his chest and face, before he manages to throw him off and roll to his side. Blood and spit spatter over Wally's sneakers when he coughs and the horrible pressure of the treads slamming into his chest and then grinding into his throat make him wince.

Both the boys are looking down at him in short order. Dick empties the gun and he's never thought of bullets hitting him in the face as being humiliating before, but his cheeks flush with shame as his snarl turns to a squeak when the sneaker presses down harder. He can see Wally's teeth now, the ugly frown deep and hateful, and Roy is sure that if he'd been the one with the gun instead of Dick that he'd be dead by now. The look in the acrobat's eyes is just short of deadly; he looks more betrayed than anything, and he knows just as well as anyone that they won't be meeting again.

"C'mon Wally." Dick's voice is already hoarse, and Roy thinks maybe he blacked out for a second because he doesn't remember the boy screaming that much. He stares at the blue eyes that will no longer look back into his own, and when Wally stomps down again he thinks he almost sees pity behind all that anger.

"I said come on Wally, we need to get you to a hospital-"

"But he-!"

"I don't care how fast you heal, we're going! Now! As for Roy," the venom makes the young man flinch, a tiny seed of regret low in his belly," the authorities can take care of him."

Roy doesn't know what Robin plans to do with that empty gun, but it doesn't matter. He waits until their shadows have slipped off of him and sits up, throat stinging and mouth dry. A bitter part of him wishes he could've swept him out from under Wally's nose. Another, more optimistic, if not grim part, is glad for the fact that his neighborhood is especially seedy and it won't take long for the cops to find the body in his apartment.

They don't hear the huff, or the shuffle, or the zip. The echo of the click as Robin undoes the lock to the front door, however...

"Look, Robin, I don't care if you don't wanna be with me more than... him, but please-"

It hardly proves anything that Wally spends his final moments moving to shield the younger boy. Roy is still angry and it's just as sweet when the first three shots rip through his chest and the closet door behind him. Dick's eyes are wide as he's ever seen them, and he doubts even Bruce has seen him covered in this much blood.

"-at least have the decency to get my name right-"

Wally stumbles back, coughing, and it's all Dick can do to hold him up when two more shots ring out, one striking the speedster's stomach, the other punching a hole in his uninjured shoulder and settling in Dick's left arm. He cries out, and between the dead weight and the pain, crumples back to the floor. It's almost too much to even attempt to move, and when he finally gains his strength, Roy's boot is on the chest of the gasping boy sprawled out on top of him, pinning them both.

"-I'm Arsenal now."

Roy smiles as the last full part of him empties directly into Wally's head, and he wonders, before he climbs out his window and rockets off down the street, if Dick has ever had brains on his shirt before.

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A/N: Yup. Weirdly obsessed Roy, go! The End.