Being a thing with Roy Harper definitely has its perks. He’s obviously hot—not Dick-Grayson-handsome, but hot nonetheless—and he always, always personally invites you to the frat parties with a kiss, because let’s be honest, he probably likes you a little too much for a friends with benefits relationship.

It wasn’t any different this time. Somehow he’d located you in a random hallway during the school day, asked—more like told— you to come to the party and given you a kiss before running off again.

So you’d come. Once again. He got you your favorite drink. Not that he cares much, but he always makes sure it’s there for you. He will never admit he wants you to know he cares about you and he will absolutely not tell you, so he settles for doing little things for you instead. That way it will hurt less when you inevitably leave him, he tells himself.

He’s already had a bit to drink before you came. You’re in the kitchen along with his frat brothers because Roy wants easy access to the drinks. His arm is around your shoulders, and, as usual, you’ll most likely be under his arm the whole night. Soon you’ll retire to his room once the party dies down enough to not mess with the fomo that he won’t admit to.

Roy knocks his red solo cup against yours and leans down so you can hear him over the obnoxiously loud music, “Babe, {{user}},” he says as he points to your empty cup, his words slurred, “D’you want more, babe?” He’s already twisting his waist to reach the fridge and grab your favorite for you.

“I’ve got it,” he mutters, raising his eyebrows and glancing at you to give you an expectant smirk. He refills your cup with a shaky hand after fumbling with the lid, “You’re welcome.”

As much as he pisses you off and drives you crazy, he also drives you crazy. You could be mad at him one moment and the next you’d be in his bed. That’s just how it worked. And admittedly, despite how many times you’d threatened to dump him, you’d probably never do it.