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It’s been three weeks, five days, and—Roy checks his watch—four hours since the timeloop started.
And for the twenty-sixth day straight, Roy is stuck in an uncomfortable chair while Dick presents a debrief for a mission that happened three weeks ago.
Not that Dick knows it happened three weeks ago. Not today, anyway.
The debrief is so mind-numbing that Roy doesn’t care about keeping up appearances anymore, sitting sidewise in his chair with his knees on the armrest.
“Twenty-four civilians saved,” Dick reads, head down as he reads from the paper in front of him. He’s unconsciously flexing his arm, holding tension as he reads the bad news. “Two casualties, seventeen injuries—”
“—and three criminals put in jail.” Roy had memorized the presentation a week ago. “One suspect escaped with an item of value, and the property owner is threatening to sue. Outsiders, please do not speak to any media personnel at this time. Once a tip about the suspect comes through, Outsiders will pursue them to retrieve item. Please standby until that time.”
The room goes quiet as he finishes, the other Outsiders staring at him as they evaluate the situation.
Dick gives him a very dry look. “Any other information you’d like to disclose, Arsenal?”
“Suspect is Anthony Daniels of Spring Creek, Colorado.” Roy puts an elbow on the meeting table. “He was last seen driving a Harley-Davidson motorcycle north on I-35. That is all the information we have presently. Outsiders, dismissed.”
Dick’s mouth presses into a funny little line and he looks down at the sheet of paper in his hands, reading the information Roy had just said out-loud, verbatim.
They meet eyes again, Dick’s blue eyes searching his for a hint of what’s going on behind the white lenses of his mask. A moment passes, then Dick sets the paper down.
“You heard him, team.” Dick says, without breaking eye contact. “Outsiders dismissed.”
There’s some squealing as chairs are pushed back and people hurry out of the room.
Roy keeps his eyes on Dick’s, watching gears turn in his pretty little head as he evaluates Roy’s behavior.
Dick breaks the silence, once the Outsiders are gone, tilting his head like a little lost puppy looking over a scrap of food. “Do you know something I don’t, Arsenal?”
“'course I do, Dick,” he answers, crossing his legs where they’re folded over the chair.
Dick opens his mouth to say, No names on the field , like he always does, but Roy cuts him off.
“I’m stuck in a timeloop,” Roy says sighing, and finally breaks eye contact to rub his temple. “I’ve been here for three weeks. I’ve done this stupid meeting almost thirty times.”
Whatever Dick had been expecting, it wasn’t what came out of Roy’s mouth. “Oh,” Dick says, and Roy watches his pink lips form their own little ‘O.’ “I take it you’ve told me this before?”
“Almost 15 times now. You keep forgetting.”
Dick pinches his eyebrows together, probably to say something dumb and Batman-coded, but Roy cuts him off again.
“Not your fault, Rob. You can’t will yourself to remember something like that.” Roy swings his legs off of the armrest and sits in the chair properly. “My day starts right at the end of the mission. I wake up, watch the suspect speed off into the distance. Then, I help the same three victims to the hospital. I go to the rendezvous point with the team. We get back here, and then we have this debrief. After the meeting, things tend to go a bit differently, but I gotta tell you, Dickie, I’m really sick and tired of this stupid meeting.”
“I see,” Dick stares at the paper on the table in front of him, fringe hanging over his mask so that Roy can’t see his expression. “Any leads on what might have caused this to happen? Or what might break you out of it?”
“It must have been whatever the suspect stole,” Roy shakes his head. “I mean, that’s gotta be it, right? I remember trying to grab it from him right before I got stuck in this whole loop, my hand touched the side of it. It must have been magic, or something. I’ve tried to track the suspect down a few times, no luck. Problem with my theory is: no one knows what that guy stole. Even that guy threatening to sue us doesn’t know; he says it’s just a fancy artifact from his grandmother.”
Dick still won’t look at him. Roy shrugs.
“It really doesn’t matter, though, whatever I do, nothing happens.”
As expected, Dick goes into theorizing mode. He puts a hand on his chin and puts his hip against the table so that he can lean against it.
Roy can’t help a little smile at the sight. This is why he keeps coming to these meetings. He can always count on Dick to have a thought or two to get him to his next lead.
“Have you figured out where the suspect is going?”
“Back to Colorado, but my 24 hours always runs out before I can figure out where his exact destination is.”
“Right. Have you investigated the owner’s grandmother?”
“Died in ‘84. She inherited the artifact from her husband’s family, but I haven’t found any information on her, yet.”
“Do you know if the owner’s family has any prominent magic users?”
“Absolutely none.” Roy shakes his head. “The grandmother had none, and neither did her husband’s family, unless they hid it really well. Always a possibility.”
Dick nods, then finally looks at Roy, his hair flopping to the side. Roy can’t help but remember Robin’s hair doing the same, after a mission, when his stupid hair gel couldn’t quite contain his mop in his usual boy scout-y combover. “And what about you?” He asks. “Any adverse effects, as far as you can tell?”
“None,” Roy shrugs. “Little tedious, sure. Wrapping up the same mission over and over again is getting a little stale. And once I get out of this, I'm definitely investing in some nicer chairs for this room. But all things considered, it could be worse. I'm not really in danger or anything, as far as I can tell. I don't hate it all the time. In fact, it’s sometimes pleasant.”
Dick frowns. His pink lips tug his whole face down, stretching out his mask and causing little frown lines to form around his mouth. “What’s that mean? You could be stuck here inevitably, Roy. How's that pleasant?”
“Well, it’s hell repeating myself everyday. But it’s nice, sometimes, living without consequence.”
“Living without consequence?”
“Yeah, sure,” Roy shrugs. He leans back in his chair, and looks up at Dick.
A thought comes to mind as Dick tilts his head again, inquisitive. Dick has been surprisingly helpful the last three weeks, in a way Roy wasn’t expecting, meaning he’s been less of a hard-ass than usual.
And it’s unfair how good Dick looks today, disheveled from the mission and in need of a good night’s sleep, but hot in a “I need someone to take care of me” way.
Roy’s been stuck in this fucking loop for three weeks. It’s not like tomorrow is going to matter.
“No consequences, ‘wing,” he repeats, grinning then says, “like this,” as he stands, takes Dick’s face in his hands, and presses their lips together.
It’s just a quick peck on the lips, and Roy lets go almost as quickly as the kiss started. By the time he’s pulled back, Dick’s face is almost as pink as his lips, eyes wide behind his mask.
Roy’s not sure when Dick last got some action, so he’s sure that it’s only because of that that Dick reaches up and touches his lips.
“Roy,” Dick says, voice a little strangled. “You can’t do that—”
Oh. Regret stabs through Roy’s chest like a gunshot wound.
“— if I’m not going to remember it tomorrow .” Dick’s lips tug back into a frown, as he grabs the paper in front of him. “We’re finding a way to fix this.”
Roy’s mouth falls open. “You liked that?”
“Of course I did, even if it was a low blow. Not ballsy enough to do it on a day I can remember?”
“Didn’t do it on purpose, Dick, I was just—”
“Whatever,” Dick stars for the door. “Are you coming to help me fix this, or not?”
Roy lets his jaw fall open for a moment, watching Dick stop at the doorframe to give him an annoyed look over his shoulder.
“Coming,” Roy jogs towards the entrance. Dick turns back towards the hallway and Roy grins. “Can’t help it if I love watching you go,” he says, as Dick scoffs in front of him.