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"If you want my help, you'd shut up," Cheshire smirked up at Roy, hands on hips and mask pushed up into her hair. It tangled there, slivers of it popping out of the eye slits and bangs nearly falling from the bottom of it. Roy glared down and made a disgruntled noise in reply.
"You could stand to be a little nicer to the person who holds your life in their hands." Cheshire stepped nearer, her eyes locking onto his.
"You're not holding my life in your hands, you're just..." He struggled for a more apt description of their situation. Except, he realized, he was suspended in ropes, on an undercover mission gone wrong. Her counterparts had run off with the loot and she had stuck behind, mostly to give him shit as far as he could tell. Surely the League or Kaldur would notice he was gone but in the meantime Cheshire was...
"I'm all you've got, baby." She summarized as she pushed on his chest. He glided back, then forward, as if in a swing. He struggled to escape from it but this only made him swing again.
"So are you going to let me down or are you just going to brag about being able to?" He growled at her. In reply, Cheshire thread her hands through the ropes nearest his shoulders and tugged his face very nearly to hers. She smelled of jasmine and sweat and Roy found himself wanting very badly to push her away. But once again, it was for a smattering of reasons that didn't include anger or duty, but something else entirely.
"You have to earn that Red," she breathed and he stared hard at the warehouse beyond her. She leaned into his field of vision and continued, "Don't look so scared; I want information, not sex."
"I didn't think-"
"Although, admittedly, ropes probably will be involved when we hook up." She smirked at him and released her grip, letting him sail back again. It was incredibly disconcerting to him; flying like this. But more concerning was what she said.
"When? As in it's a sure thing?" He asked dubiously, an eyebrow cocked. She laughed, harsh and short, before answering.
"You don't let anyone else fight me, but you've saved my ass from goons at least twice. For some reason, I let those idiots take the cash because I didn't want you getting gutted by whoever else comes by here. Beside that, we're both rather attractive people. It's... inevitable." She recited all this as if it was simple fact. The sort of thing she would've learned in history or, more fittingly, chemistry, and now she was simply reporting it back. Roy wondered if she'd ever been in a class, if she was the burnout girl in the back row or the troublemaker the teachers couldn't help but respect. Then he hated himself for wondering.
"So if it's inevitable, why aren't you nicer to me? And why do I fight you at all?" He asked, struggling to maintain the feeling that he didn't understand what she meant. But the worst of it was, he did. Roy knew she was right. It was automatic, the way he threw himself between her and whoever else was there. The action was protective and territorial, he would always realize that after the dust had settled.
"We're stupid." She said, with a bitter chuckle. "You pretend I'm so different from you that you can't fathom wanting me, when we both know that's not true."
"You are different from me. I would never kill someone." Her expression changed at this and Roy found himself regretting it. Her face, for once, didn't make him fear her. It made him hurt for her, at the openness of it. She bit her lip, her eyes focusing on the floor beneath him, her shoulder slackened. It would've meant nothing if not for years of training and multiple missions focusing on her.
"Neither would I, until I grew up and had to." She said this as a near apology, an explanation. He wondered if anyone ever expected more from her than to be a killer. "I didn't always love this, but it's what I am. It's stupid for me to fight it."
"You don't have to be this." She looked up at this, meeting his eyes. He wished his hands were free to push the stray hair out of her face but then she laughed. It sounded hollow, a rough cackle that didn't fit.
"It's what I was born for," She answered his unasked question. "A tiger can't change its stripes, Red."
"Roy." He found himself admitting. The word spilled out of his mouth without a thought and her eyes widened in mild surprise. "My name's Roy."
"I'm still Cheshire." There was a warmness in this, as if she was giving him all she could. "Even if your little League computers say otherwise, pretend with me."
"According to you, we're both good at pretending." He replied cheekily. She smiled, a real one this time, opening her mouth to comment. There was a crash, a shout from someone breaking their conversation.
"Damn junior Justice League," she commented, shoving her mask down over her face and Roy recognized the echo of his own term for them. It hurt a little, the realization that she was right about a good many things. "Guess that's my cue, Red."
She ducked under him, trailing a hand down his stomach as she ran and he could only see a flash of yellow chase her. Roy attempted to twist and see if Wally would catch her, but the ropes undid and he flopped onto the cement ground with a groan.
"Let her go, Roy's fine!" Roy didn't recognize the voice, but was not surprised to look up and find Artemis. The surprising bit was that Wally listened, a gust of wind the only indication until Roy felt the speedster pull him up.
"Man, we got here just in time, she totally would've gutted you," Wally commented cheerfully.
"I had it under control." Roy answered and Artemis snorted.
"She's Cheshire," Artemis said this almost ruefully. "No one has her under control."