title: Friction
fandom: DC Comics
characters/pairings: Dick/Roy
rating: G/Teen
warnings: bad language
summary: A snippet of a Roy and Dick conversation.
notes: this is for rithy, who asked for it, and i love to make her happy. this is not what she had in mind, but, well... consider this a teaser for the fic i will one day write about these boys.

"You were always better than me, anyway."

"I don't know why you would say that. It's not true, you know."

"Yes it is. Mr. Perfect sidekick, that's what you were. Never messing up, never getting anyone into trouble. Robin will have a plan, Robin will know the answer, Robin will say the right thing."

"I made mistakes, too. I fucked up at least as often as anyone else, and every time I did, I paid for it just like anyone else, sometimes worse. I never understood this..."


"Why it always had to be... a competition between us. Why could we never just be friends? You always needed to one up me, or prove that you were smarter or faster or whatever. And every time you 'lost', you acted like you had been personally offended."

"You saw me at my worst, man. I had to show you that I wasn't the druggie fuck-up everyone thought I was. I mean, when someone's seen you shivering and twitching and puking, you got a lot of ground to make up."

"I saw you at your best, too. Didn't you think that there might have been a reason I was there with you when you were in rehab? And anyway, that's a cop out, because you were competing with me before then, too."

"You were the only one who was there. Not even Ollie... Or Dinah. No one could stand to be near me for more than fifteen minutes, but you were always there. Now, why was that?"

"Everyone was there, Roy. I mean, in shifts and stuff. And aren't you just deflecting?"

"No one was there for me but you, Dick."

"...If I had been there for you, you might never have had to be in rehab anyway."

"Is that it? Was it guilt?"

"Guilt? No. Not exactly. Not really. No, not at all. I mean, I was guilty. That is, I felt guilty. Feel guilty. But that wasn't... No. I think I was more afraid than guilty."

"Afraid of what?"

"...We almost lost you, Roy. I was terrified."

"...I was glad that it was you. I was mortified, but I was glad."

"I knew you didn't want Donna to see you like that."

"That wasn't quite what I meant."

"You didn't answer my question, you know."

"Yeah, well, you didn't answer mine, either."

"Yes I did!"

"No. You said why you were there, you didn't say why you were always there. Fuck, man, you slept in that damn uncomfortable chair from the 70s they had in the room. For a week. That wasn't fear, or guilt."

"...What do you mean?"

"If you could answer my question, you know, I could answer yours. It's the same answer, I think."

"...You think?"

"I hope. Hell, if I knew, I wouldn't have to ask."


"Goddammit, Grayson. Do you have to be so fucking perfect all the damn time? Can't you give a guy a break sometimes?"

"Damn it, Roy, I'm not perfect."

"Yeah. You are."