A SINNERS SONG → DICK GRAYSON

02 | jealousy is a bitch

0002. CHAPTER TWO
— jealousy is a bitch

warnings: this chapter is NSFW (the book is marked mature for a reason) ... have fun

"I REALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU EVEN AGREED TO HELP HIM WITH A PROBLEM THAT HE SHOULDN'T BE DEALING WITH IN THE FIRST PLACE," Roy quipped, watching Augustine run around their shared bedroom packing her suitcase. "It's the first time he calls in practically forever and you're jumping to go and help him."

"If I didn't know any better, Roy, I'd say you're jealous."

Roy let out a huff, "I'm not jealous, just, frustrated. You're using up some of the only days off you have to help him with something. Something that you don't even want to do. August, clearly this isn't what you should be doing."

Rolling her eyes, August continued to pack her suitcase, "He needs help, Roy. That's what friends do for each other."

"He hasn't been your friend for a long time and you know it," Roy crossed his arms. "He goes years without talking to you and then bam! Suddenly he needs your help and you're chasing right after him."

"Again, not to ring the jealous bell but," August smiled, pushing herself to stand in front of him. Out of instinct Roy's knees parted to give her space, his cheek leaning into the hand she had gently placed on it. Rubbing soft circles onto the apple of his cheek, August couldn't help but have her heart soften. "You have nothing to be jealous of and nothing to worry about. Yeah, he's been a shit friend, but we've been through so many things together, I have to at least lend a hand. Besides, how many times have you saved any of our friends from even the smallest of things?"

Roy grumbled, "A couple of times."

"That's no different from what this is," August rested her forehead against his. "It just comes in handy to have a friend with superpowers."

"You know, those superpowers could do a lot of good," Roy lifted a brow, leaning back a little to watch as her face shifted.

With a laugh, August huffed, "Absolutely not."

Her words were concrete — definite. There was no way in hell she would ever be caught dead in a suit. She had never craved to help people in that way, not in the way her mother or (biological) father had. Augustine Finley was content with her choice of being a doctor, helping people through the power of healing. She was, however, not content with the powers that flowed inside of her very being. The cells were lined with a strength she couldn't quite explain, with a capability she had barely scratched the surface of. They were powers her mother passed down, an alien gene that only became active when mixed with another X gene (aka, sorry to all of the Finley men, they never had access to the powers she and her mother had) (which, thinking of, might have been the exact reason the first biological Finley female in almost two hundred years was Harlow). Powers that scared the living shit out of Augustine Finley, not because of what they were or the fact that she knew they were stronger than what she used them for, but for the simple fact that one day she would use them to help someone. Because she would. If it came down to saving someone's life or keeping herself from the hero's life, Augustine Finley would choose to save a life. Every. Single. Time.