Disclaimer: I wish but I don't. Thankies go to my sister for the idea for the part involving Roy and white paint.

White Christmas

Roy Harper sat on his bed, listening to Bing Crosby and the Drifters sing "White Christmas". From two different CDs. And yes, he was listening to them at the same time.

He turned the volume up a little higher, not hearing as a very angry person banged on his bedroom door and then burst in.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Oliver Queen's voice was barely audible above the music.

"Hoping for a white Christmas, for once!" Roy shouted back.

"Eh?!"

Roy sighed and reluctantly turned the music down slightly. He proclaimed oh-so-philosophically, "A white Christmas is a merry Christmas!"

"NOT WHEN YOU'RE DEAF! Turn it down and keep it down!"

Ollie turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut.

"Idiot kid," grumbled Ollie, storming down the stairs. Maybe he'd be able to take that nap on the living room sofa.

He lay down flat on his back on the couch, giving a small sigh of relief as he realized that the music was much quieter down here….

-

Roy trotted downstairs to the living room, several small bags of artificial snow in hand. He smiled mischievously and began throwing handfuls of the bits of plastic all over the floor, the Christmas tree… absolutely everywhere. Not noticing that the sofa was occupied, he sent a flurry in the couch's general vicinity before moving on to the dining room.

Ollie, eyes still closed and mouth still open, made a face as he felt something small and plasticky settling on his tongue. What was that stuff? He poked out his tongue, eyes snapping open as he felt and then brushed off the fake snow. Looking around the room, his mouth dropped open again.

"Wha—how—where—who…?"

He stared at the floor—hadn't that white rug been red before? Well, there was only one thing to do.

"ROY!"

Roy poked his head back into the living room. "Yeah?"

"What hap—what's that you're holding?"

"'Frosty Snow' and 'Buffalo Snow'," Roy replied, glancing at the empty plastic baggies.

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a white Christmas," grinned Roy.

"Clean it up!"

"Awww… why?"

"Because I said so!"

"No! I think it looks very Christmassy. You could use some Christmas, Mr. Grinchy!"

"I'm not a Grinch! I just don't like people trashing my living room!"

"Well, if it's your living room," Roy smirked, "then you can clean your living room. I gotta go make some snow-cones." He started out of the room.

"Hold on a minute," Ollie barked. "Snow-cones? In December?"

"Yeah! Snow… white… white Christmas… see ya!"

As Roy made his retreat, Ollie glanced around and mused, "Well… I guess it's not that bad…"

And so the living room remained a winter wonderland.

-

"What are you doing now?" Ollie sighed.

Roy took a few more push-pins out of the small box and continued his work. "I thought the game room could use some new wallpaper."

"That is not wallpaper! Those are postcards!"

"Exactly. Point?" Roy demanded, raising an eyebrow as he continued pinning up the postcards displaying snowy images.

"This is where I put my foot down!" Ollie shouted, stamping his slipper-clad right foot to illustrate the exclamation. "OWWW!"

Roy clucked his tongue scornfully and commented, "Well, you shouldn't've put it down on my extra tacks." He shook his head in mock pity.

Ollie glowered—that kid was pure evil.

-

Resting his sore foot on the ottoman in the snowy living room, Ollie smirked.

"Roy!" he called.

"What?" Roy answered, stepping into the room.

"Take a look," he snickered, gesturing towards the TV, which was set to a news program.

Roy watched silently for a few moments.

"…It doesn't look like a white Christmas this time, Bob," one of the newscasters announced, "but we may be looking at a wet one…"

"AAARGH!"

Ollie smirked again as Roy zipped out of the room at a speed that would rival the Flash's. Life was good.

-

Sulking in his room, Roy decided that he really had nothing better to do, so he logged onto the internet through his laptop and checked his e-mail.

Somethin' from Bird Boy, he mused, clicking on the little mail icon…

-

Hearing a pained scream from Roy's room, Ollie ran up the stairs and into the bedroom.

"Whatsamatter?" he asked quickly.

Roy, face buried in his hands, choked out, "Look!"

Ollie walked closer and looked at the e-mail being displayed:

Roy, great news! Last night it snowed two feet here in Gotham!

He didn't really need to read the rest.

"Oh… well…" Ollie drew out.

"Whaddya mean 'oh, well'?!" Roy exploded, jumping up and glaring at his guardian. "This is INJUSTICE! How come Dick gets a white Christmas and we get a wet Christmas?!"

Roy continued ranting on for several minutes before Ollie finally interrupted, "That does it!"

-

Ollie opened the front door and was not surprised to find Wally West standing there; Wally frequently ran over—literally—to visit his friends.

The mid-Westerner opened his mouth to say something, but Ollie cut him off with, "He's upstairs."

Wally smiled, "Thanks, Mr. Queen," and went up to Roy's room.

"Hey, Roy," Wally spoke through the door, knocking lightly. "Can I come in?"

…

"I guess you can…"

Raising an eyebrow at Roy's response, Wally entered the room—and gaped.

"Wh-what are you doing?" the young speedster wondered.

Roy glared at him before continuing to paint. "Ollie's making me paint my room white."

"…Why?"

"Because I kept annoying him by, well, kinda complaining how I wanted a white Christmas."

"…And this has to do with that… how?"

"He's making me make a white Christmas! Well… at least a white room…"

A small snicker escaped Wally.

Roy 'hmph'-ed.

Wally chuckled a few times.

Roy growled.

Wally burst into loud laughter and, eventually unable to stand anymore, collapsed to the floor.

"Will you just shut up?!" hollered Roy.

Wally continued giggling madly and, between laughs, choked out, "I'm… dreaming! Of a… white… Christmas!" Incapable of continuing, he began laughing louder than ever.

Roy scowled and stalked over, paintbrush in hand. The Nebraskan stopped laughing when Roy painted a white mustache under his nose.

Wrinkling up his nose a few times and then wiping off the paint with his hand, Wally sat up and sulked for a moment. He finally commented, "I suppose that now would be a bad time to tell you that a huge snowstorm is headed for Nebraska…."

SLOSH

"Hey!"

Wally took the now-empty bucket of white paint off his head and pouted slightly. However, he soon realized that this was a bad idea, as the paint was now also on his lower lip. He tried to come up with a snappy comeback of some kind, but instead ended up vowing:

"I'm gonna tell Dick what you did! Pfft!" he finished with spitting out some paint.

Roy grabbed back the bucket and bonked Wally over the head with it. "Never mention that creep's name again!"

"Oh, yeahhh… Gotham got some snow, too…. Pfft!" More paint had dripped down to his mouth.

"Towel?" Wally pleaded.

Roy pretended to mull this over for a few minutes, wanting to prolong his sometime-friend's discomfort a bit longer.

"Please?"

The Californian hemmed and hawed a few moments more before finally agreeing, "Okay." Roy went to his bathroom, retrieved a towel, and tossed it at Wally.

After wiping his face clean, Wally announced, "Yesterday, I got a great idea!"

"Great for you or great for me?"

"You mostly, but maybe me, too, if you be nice."

"Well? What is it?"

"Um…." Wally hesitated a moment longer, hoping that Roy wouldn't yell at him, and then blurted out, "Would-you-an'-Mister-Queen-maybe-sorta-kinda-like-to-come-over-to-Uncle-Barry-and-Aunt-Iris's-house-to-spend-Christmas-with-us?"

"…Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted to spend Christmas with Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris and me. But-if-you-don't-want-to-that's-okay-just-please-don't-yell-at-me-'cause-my-parents-did-enough-of-that-but-I-I-didn't-mean-to-say-that-just-please-don't-yell-please—"

"Wally!"

"Yes-I'm-sorry-what'd-I-do-now?!"

"Why do you think I wanna spend Christmas with you and your aunt and uncle?"

"Well…" Wally made a special effort to speak slowly. "You and Mr. Queen sometimes don't get along, so I thought maybe if were in another place that's a little homier… you could… stop hating each other?"

"Whoa, hold the phone!" Roy exclaimed. "What makes you think we hate each other?"

"Well, you're always shouting at each other and… an'-people-who-like-each-other-don't-do-that-an'-besides-if-you-do-come-to-Central-City-you'd-have-a-white-Christmas!"

"We shout at everyone," Roy, having only understood the first part of Wally's sentence, replied.

"Yeah… but… do you wanna come? It could be fun."

Roy was temporarily frozen in place. Wally was asking him to spend Christmas—a holiday that families spent together—with the Allen-West family. Okay, so that only consisted of Barry, Iris, and Wally this year but still…

And why was Wally being so nice all of a sudden? They'd spent the entire year screaming at each other and pulling pranks—wait! That was it! This was some kind of a joke!

"Alright, West, what's the real deal?" Roy demanded. "You almost had me there for a minute, but I'm not dumb, y'know!"

"But—but—I mean it!"

"Suuuure you do!"

"I do so mean it!" Wally snapped. His eyes widened in horror. "I didn't mean to shout!" he yelped. "I-didn'-mean-to-be-like-my-parents—I-I-mean—!"

"Hold it! I think I caught the word 'parents' a coupla times." Since there was no one else there to pop the question, Roy asked awkwardly, "Are you okay?"

"Yes! Yes-I'm-great-yeah-I'm-fine-just-great-just-fine-fine-fine!"

"Wally…"

"They just… weren't being very Christmassy. I really am fine! Honest!" Wally forced a smile.

Roy shook his head. "Now I know why you don't live in California—you're a pathetic actor!"

Wally's face turned red for a moment. "So… wanna come?"

"I don't think your aunt and uncle would appreciate us barging in uninvi—"

"I already asked them," beamed Wally, back to his usual contented self. "Aunt Iris said, 'okay', and Uncle Barry said, 'as long as they don't wreck the house'! You can come!"

"I dunno if Ollie would want to go…"

The Nebraskan's face fell.

"…but I sure as heck do!"

"Yippee!" Wally whooped, zipping around the room once. "You're invited to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day, but you can stay longer if you want! Boy-oh-boy-this'll-be-great! Go ask Mr. Queen if he wants to come!"

Roy shrugged, dropping his paintbrush in the bucket, and went downstairs to find Ollie, an ecstatic Wally bouncing after him like a loyal little puppy.

"Hey, Ollie," Roy began, walking into the living room.

"Yeah?"

"Wally invited us to spend Christmas with him and Mr. and Mrs. Allen. I'm going with or without you, so you wanna come?"

Ollie raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because it'll be fun!" Wally exclaimed. The overenthusiastic way he blurted out the reply made it sound like it had about a dozen exclamation points following it.

"Well…"

"Fine," Roy said coldly. "Don't come. What do we care? It'll be more fun without you! C'mon, Wally, help me pack and we can leave the Grinch to grouch by himself!"

-

After running over to Nebraska (with Wally doing most of the running, of course), Roy was warmly received by Barry and Iris. Christmas Eve—as promised—was a lot of fun. As for Christmas day…

Knock-knock-knock

Silence.

Knock-knock-knock

More silence.

BANG-BANG-BANG

Roy fell out of bed, which was a bad thing to do considering that he was sharing a bunk-bed with Wally, and the Californian had ended up in the top bunk.

"Wow, Roy," Wally said, wide-eyed. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," moaned Roy, sitting up and rubbing his back. "While I'm down here, I might as well get the door."

"Okay. Try not to let too much cold air in. I'm frostbit enough!"

"Well, then, you shoulda asked your uncle to turn up the heat while you had the chance!"

BANG-BANG-BANG!

"Just answer the door," Wally said, screwing up his face and sticking out his tongue before turning over with the intention of going back to sleep.

"Yeah, yeah…"

Roy flung open the front door and started, "Whaddya wa—Ollie?"

(Betcha couldn't see that coming!)

Ollie cleared his throat, readjusting his grip on the gifts that he carried in both arms, and then muttered, "I'm invited, aren't I?"

"Well—yeah! But… why now?"

"Because I can't run at the speed of light!" Ollie growled. "Airports are jam-packed this time of year—I'm just lucky someone cancelled their ticket so I could get on!"

Roy stared at his guardian in something nearing shock.

"Well? Can I come in or are you gonna let us both freeze to death?"

Glaring, Roy allowed Ollie entrance.

"Here," Ollie grumbled, thrusting a small box at Roy. "Merry Christmas."

Roy raised an eyebrow at the clumsily-wrapped present and mused, "You wrapped this, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"You'll have to wait until everyone is up to open it—or you can open it now! Who cares?!"

The red-haired boy shrugged and put the gift under the tree in the living/family room. Ollie brought in a duffel bag which most likely held one or two changes of clothes and then he and Roy sat down on the floor, staring at the decorations silently. It was three in the morning but neither of them was tired.

At least they didn't think they were tired until they both leaned against the couch and fell asleep.

-

"IT'S MORNING! MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Roy woke up with a start.

"HAPPY HANUKKAH!"

Ollie jumped about ten feet in the air.

"FELIZ NAVIDAD!"

A loud thump was heard from Barry and Iris's room.

"HAPPY KWANZAA!"

Another loud thump from the master bedroom.

"JOY TO THE WORLD! The Lord has come! Let Earth receive her—Mr. Queen! You decided to come, after all!"

"Wally," Roy glowered, "kindly shut up or I'll do something that is not very Christmassy!"

Wally beamed and then ran out of the living room, resisting the urge to use his superspeed. He banged on his aunt and uncle's bedroom door and exclaimed, "It's Christmas! Wake-up-wake-up-it's-Christmas!"

"We're up," a slightly bedraggled Iris said, opening the door after putting on her robe.

Barry nodded and ruffled Wally's already-messy red hair as they walked into the living room.

"Ollie!" Barry said in surprise. "I see you made it just in time."

"About three hours ago," Ollie grunted in reply, glancing at the clock which stated the time as six in the morning. "Wally, how old are you?"

"Fourteen," Wally grinned as he began sorting out the presents. "Why?"

"You're acting like you're five."

"It's Christmas! People are supposed to act like little kids again! It's the law!"

"I highly doubt that," muttered Ollie.

"These are Roy's, these are Aunt Iris's, these are Uncle Barry's, these are Mr. Queen's, and these are mine!"

Ollie seemed surprised. "You got presents for me?"

"Yeah! Of-course-we-did-it's-Christmas-you're-supposed-to-give-your-friends-presents-or-if-you-can't-afford-presents-then-a-card-or-if-you-can't-afford-a-card-then-maybe-a-Christmas-carol-or-if-you-can't-sing-then-just-shout-MERRY-CHRISTMAS-at-the-top-of-your-lungs!"

Barry laughed and said, "Everybody just take a present." He explained to Roy and Ollie, "We have a little tradition—we each open our first present at the same time."

"Just let me get a bag to put the wrapping paper in," Iris said, leaving for a moment and then returning with a black plastic garbage bag.

"Why throw out the paper?" Barry grinned. "Just open your presents very carefully and we can save the paper for next year!"

"Ha—fat chance!" chortled Wally. Once everybody had a gift in their hands, he exclaimed, "Ready-set-go!"

Everyone ripped off the wrapping paper of their present, and Roy stared at the object he'd received from Ollie. It was a bow and suction-cup-tipped arrow—the strange thing about it was that the bow was only five inches long while the arrow was just slightly smaller than a normal size.

"Um, thanks," Roy offered to his guardian, all the while trying to puzzle out why the sizes were mismatched.

"It can work," Ollie said.

Roy nodded dubiously.

"Seriously. Here."

Ollie took the gift from Roy and held the arrow to the bowstring, poised to fire.

"If you don't try, it can't go very far. See?"

He released the arrow and it flew about a foot away. Ollie picked up the arrow and once again took aim, this time more carefully.

"If you take your time and make the bow and arrow work together…"

The arrow flew across the room and landed in the center of a chair's back.

"…then they can accomplish great things."

"Just like you guys!" Wally exclaimed, glancing from Ollie to Roy.

Roy stood up and retrieved the arrow. He accepted the bow from Ollie and prepared to shoot. Frowning slightly in concentration, he pulled back the arrow and let it fly.

Onto the exact same spot where Ollie's shot had landed.

"It does work," Roy murmured. He turned back to Ollie and smiled slightly.

"Hey, look!" shouted Wally, pointing out the window. "They were right! It's snowing!"

That announced, Wally began bouncing around the house, singing, "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas!"

Barry joined in with, "Just like the ones I used to know!"

Iris started singing, too, and finally Roy and Ollie.

"May your days be merry and bright… and may all your Christmases be white!"

The End