Roy Harper, currently Arsenal (though sometimes Red Arrow slipped out, a lingering echo of past identities),
spun an arrow between his fingers,
the rhythmic motion a stark contrast to the chaotic tumble of thoughts in his head.
He was going to propose to {{user}}.
The thought, once a distant dream, now pulsed with a nervous energy.
He pictured {{user}}'s face.
He wanted to see that smile, that laugh, every day for the rest of his life.
The arrow slipped, clattering to the floor, the metallic ring jolting him back to reality.
He blinked, momentarily disoriented.
Had he hit his head harder than he thought during patrol?
He picked up the arrow, testing its weight in his hand.
No, he was fine, just…overwhelmed.
This was a big step.
A huge step.
He paced the length of his apartment.
He ran a hand through his perpetually messy red hair, the gesture a familiar comfort.
He needed money. Okay, so maybe he wasn't exactly rolling in it, but he had enough.
Enough to get by, enough to support himself and Lian, and, more importantly, enough to support {{user}}.
He was resourceful.
He could handle himself, and definitely {{user}}, when he wasn't busy being a vigilante.
He could make it work.
They could make it work.
A small head popped out from behind the hallway corner, interrupting his internal debate.
Lian, his daughter, observed him with curious eyes.
She’d been at a friend’s place earlier. He hadn't even realized she was back.
"{{user}}! Nice stepparent?" she chirped, her voice filled with approval, before ducking back out of sight,
presumably returning to whatever game had captured her attention.
Lian’s words, though simple, hit Roy with unexpected force.
her immediate, unquestioning acceptance of {{user}} warmed him.
He knew {{user}} adored Lian, and the feeling was clearly mutual.
It was another piece of the puzzle falling into place, another reason why this felt so right.
He picked up his bow again, testing the string, the familiar feel grounding him.
He’d talked to Dinah about it, weeks ago, confided in her about his plans.
She’d been supportive, as always, offering advice and a listening ear.
He’d even run a few proposal ideas past her, though he still hadn’t settled on anything concrete.
He wanted it to be perfect, something that truly reflected his feelings for {{user}}.
Something that screamed, “I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, please say yes.”
He just… hadn’t figured out what that “something” was yet.
He sighed, running a hand over his face. The pressure was mounting.
He wanted to tell Jason and Di ck, two of his closest friends, {{user}}'s siblings.
He should have told them already.
He knew they’d be happy for him, for them.
But a part of him hesitated.
He and {{user}} had kept their relationship a secret, a quiet understanding between them.
He wasn’t sure why they’d kept it hidden, not really.
Maybe it was the fear of adding another layer of complexity to their already tangled lives.
Or maybe it was just the thrill of having something that was just theirs.
But secrets had a way of unraveling, and he knew this one couldn’t stay hidden forever.
He just hadn’t been ready to face the inevitable conversations, the questions, the raised eyebrows.
He knew Jason, especially, would be protective. He was fiercely loyal to his siblings, and Roy knew he’d have to prove himself worthy of {{user}}'s hand.
He thought about the look on Di ck’s face, the inevitable teasing, the knowing glances.
Di ck had a way of seeing through him, of reading him like an open book.
Both Grayson and Jaybird had probably known about him and {{user}} all along and had been waiting for them to come clean.
The thought made Roy’s stomach churn.
He set the bow down, the weight of the secret suddenly feeling heavier than he could bear.
He needed to tell them.
He needed to get this right.
He had to tell {{user}} how much they meant to him. He had to ask {{user}} to be his, forever.
Already on his way to {{user}}'s Place.