Greased Lightning

Hey yourself, he whispered with each puff of breath into the warm mouth. I can’t stop touching you, his fingers confessed, skimming down Wally’s back and over the swell of his ass, up and down and up and down and, I think I’m going to keep touching you forever, because his body knew, then and there, that it would never stop feeling like this.

Wally was silken and flaccid over his stomach, his thigh brushing Dick’s oversensitive length, and if uncomfortable could be wonderful then this was it, because absolutely nothing short of a Crisis was going move him from this position for at least the next eight hours.

If he took a deep breath, he could feel Wally rising and falling with his chest.

Dick breathed in deep. Released with a sigh. Yawned right into Wally’s face and laughed.

“Don’t move.” Untangling their sticky hands, he grabbed a fistful of sheets—it wasn’t as though they could be saved anyway—and cleaned them off, wrapping the cotton around Wally and stroking teasingly for a moment before winding both arms around his boyfriend. “Four times. I don’t know if I should be jealous or flattered.”

Heh, Wally huffed against Dick’s lips, glancing over at the clock.

They’d knocked it on the floor, oops.

He squirmed to retrieve it without climbing out of bed, fingertips just catching the power cord and Dick oofing beneath him as he inadvertently stuck an elbow in his ribs.

An hour and a half.

“Flattered, dude,” Wally grinned. “I mean, it’s not unheard of, but …  not exactlycommon.”

He wiggled to lie at Dick’s side, propping himself up on one arm and draping the other across Dick’s chest. That was pretty fast. Not having sex for a year before had probably helped, however.

“But give me all weekend?” he cocked a fist in the air: “To infinity and beyond.”

Dick rolled his eyes and elbowed his obnoxious boyfriend down so that Wally’s head was cradled in his collarbone, lying snug against him. Wally let his thumb wander as they fell into a comfortable silence, tracing over Dick, a nipple here, a scar, a rib there.

They’d never turned off the TV, the muted lights of their video game dancing over them in the darkness.

“Where’s the remote?” Wally mumbled, as Dick retrieved it from the floor, too, and clicked it off, and all that was left was the moonlight filtering in his window.

Another wave of exhaustion hit him, heavy like the earlier one that evening; he’dalready burned through the donuts. And the enormous dinner. And the booze, apparently.

“Man, getting drunk was kinda fun,” Wally slurred, sleep already pulling at his eyelids. “We should try and see if we can get it to work again. An empty stomach or whatever it was. I dunno.”  

He hummed noncommittally as Wally shifted to find a comfortable spot on his chest that would leave his side completely asleep within the hour, and then the speedster was asleep almost mid-sentence, soft snores soon replacing quiet, even breaths.

Dick bent his trapped arm at the elbow, twirling a strand of red between his fingers, feeling his best friend’s hand unconsciously curl into a loose fist over his stomach and wondering what he’d do if he woke up tomorrow in his own bed, alone save for sticky sheets and only a fading memory of the dream that was tonight. Staying awake till Wally woke up sounded like a better idea.

But he was tired and comfortable, and counting cracks on the ceiling could only work for so long when he already knew the number and position of each fracture.

Robin swallowed against the faint aftertaste of come at the back of his throat. Richard breathed in the now-stale smell of sex.

Shaking his head ‘no’, Dick pushed Wally off the bed and toward the kitchen.

"Be right back,” Wally said as he pulled on a nice soft pair of flannel pajamas. The refrigerator was nice and cool as he leaned into it, scavenging some orange juice and the box of day-old donuts, pausing to get Dick a glass of water in case he wanted it later.  

Crawling to the side of the bed, Dick walked out of it on his hands as Wally wandered down the stairs, the floorboards creaking slightly as he shifted his weight from one hand to another. He used to have just about everything in this room memorized, but it was… emptier than he remembered. Most of Wally’s stuff was in his dorm now, including a few of his favorite posters. Their spaces on the walls looked—

It had been a long time since Dick last came to Wally’s house. They frequented Mount Justice and the manor more often, or Iris and Barry’s house, but he’d never gone more than two months without paying a visit, offering some freshly-baked Alfred specialty to Wally’s mom and trying to avoid Mr. West.

He eased himself back to his feet to observe the bookshelf, cataloguing the missing books, then flipped back onto one hand to pull the drawer of his desk open with the other.

Oh, hey. Those were his shades. He must have left them behind agesago. 

Downstairs, Wally's torso felt deliciously sore as he stretched one way and the other before popping a donut between his teeth and heading upstairs. He was actually pretty tired. Big day, I guess.

Right. Enough snooping. Dick shoved the drawer back and listened to Wally coming up the stairs, handwalking around the bed to push his body up into a final stretch when—

Wally almost choked on his donut at his bare-ass friend—literally, he was facing away from the door—and smack— if he couldn’t use his super speed to swat Dick on the butt then what did he blow himself up for?

  “Oh, real mature, KF,” he rolled his eyes as Wally flopped onto the mattress with his donuts, bringing one leg down in front of him, balancing carefully on it before pushing his other leg in the opposite direction, toes just brushing the ground behind his hands. Once the soles of both his feet were firmly on the floor, he lifted his arms up and to the side, a wide grin splitting his face. “Ta-daaaa~”

Bruce and Alfred made for a terrible audience. Wally was much better. The look on his face .

Dick laughed, throwing himself into a neat spin that brought him the right way up, then did a forward flip onto the bed, landing next to Wally on his back.

“Jelly-filled?” he gazed at the box hopefully.

“Yeah, take it,” Wally said, making a face as he handed the powdery pastry to Dick; they were his least favorite. “They’re a day old, though, sorry. I got them last night because—"

He zipped over behind Dick and held a donut over his shoulder in front of his face. ”—Mr. Boston Creme-san, ahhhnn,“ he squealed in falsetto, moving the Boston Creme like a puppet.

Dick choked on the jelly as Wally took a giant gooey bite by his cheek, just out of his peripheral vision, not quite getting all the creme in at once.

"Ahffhit,” he laughed, struggling to swallow half the donut at once. Dick whipped around to lick the stray creme off Wally’s face, and to keep licking, past Wally’s lips, past his teeth, over his tongue. Laughing into the kiss, Wally returned it in kind, running warm hands over and down Dick’s back, kneading, smoothing.

“Hmm. You’ve got a couple of knots?” Dick rarely had knots, but when he did, Wally would usually give him a once over with his “magic hands.” If he were completely honest, Dick wasn’t even that tense right now—it had just been more than a year since he’d given Dick a back rub, and he … really liked giving them. “You want a back rub?"  

“Backrub,” Dick drawled amusedly, winding his arms around Wally, thumbs dipping past the hem of his pajamas. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

But he couldn’t exactly pass up the offer. Wally could deny the existence of magic all he wanted and science out a detailed explanation that Dick already knew, but his backrubs were so magical that he was willing to call them that.

In hindsight, all the praise may have gone to his head, but even if they hadn’t told him, their reactions would have given them away. Dick had a distressing tendency to drop all his defenses to the point that Wally would sometimes flop over him afterwards simply because it was the only time he could do it without getting kicked.

Pulling away, Dick fluffed up a pillow and faceplanted on it, then dragged himself into a comfortable position on his stomach, arms folded under his head. “Better make it worth my while, Kid Vibrator . Considering what I’m giving up for this.”

“If you say so,” Wally smirked, straddling Dick in his flannel pajamas. He dug around in his drawer for a bottle of hand lotion—it had been a while since he’d given any kind of proper massage at all , and tonight had, uh, caught him by surprise to say the least, so he hadn’t had time to pick any real massage oil up.

He squirted some on his hands, and Dick hmm’d beneath him, turning his head and peeking at Wally above him out of the corner of his eye. Wally shot him a grin and rubbed his hands together to warm them. His palms ran lightly over Dick’s shoulders and upper back, almost brushing from the inside out, getting the feel of the planes of his muscles and bones, looking for knots. The feel of Dick’s skin, Dick beneath him, sent a shiver up his spine, and he let it radiate down his arms and into Dick’s shoulders and dissipate. He gradually worked his way down Dick’s back, one hand on either side of his spine, deeper and deeper, kneading the muscles, cupping his sides, sliding fingers in between his ribs as he pressed his thumbs into knots along the way.

He traced circles with his knuckles on the way back up, harder and harder until Dick groaned under the pressure, until he felt all the residual tension of the fight melt away like hot butter beneath his fingers. Warm, smooth fingers slid over the back of his neck, tracing the lines of his spine, and Wally leaned over him, chest just a fraction of an inch above Dick, no contact except the heat radiating off his torso.

He gently placed a kiss at the juncture where Dick’s neck flowed into his back, and, slipping his hands underneath Dick and over his ribs, vibrated.

It was a slow, deep rumble, and Wally continued kissing, feather light, maddening, across Dick’s upper shoulders, and snapping at the shell of his ear as he ran his hands under Dick, over his pecs and abs, trapping him until he reached his hips and brought his palms up over his lower back. He piled one hand on top of the other and leaned, rocking his weight into it, vibrating as he pressed down, and pausing when he lightened his touch, palming circles up one side of his spine and down the other.

Dick had begun to squirm a little beneath him, and Wally gripped Dick’s hips from behind, trapping his lower back against the bed. His lips pressed directly against the shell of Dick’s ear as he leaned over him.

“Having fun?” he asked, sending an extra strong vibration through his fingers for good measure.

“Oh, fuck you,” Dick mumbled into the pillow, barely stifling a moan that turned into a sigh. “Or fuck me, that works too, just…”

The words trailed off his tongue and out of his mind as Wally’s fingers pressed into his hips, over bruises that were already forming from barely half an hour ago, a little painful but mostly warm and not enough because he was already hard, and Wally was warm above him, and Dick really wasn’t going to be able to hold still for much longer, even though his muscles were protesting at the mere thought of movement, liquid and trembling under the speedster’s hands.

“Ouch, hey, ease up on that end,” he said as the vibrations trembled up his injured side, just the wrong side of uncomfortable, and Wally complied with a gentle bite to his earlobe, easing his hand lower and— far too close to where he should be touching but deliberately wasn’t , and, okay, Dick didn’t used to have this particular reaction to Wally’s massages, but usually he wasn’t naked and Wally didn’t amp it up this high and, yeah, he was never going to be able to sit through one of these again without getting a boner. At least when he got one when he was fourteen it didn’t mean anything.

Wally shot another strong wave of tremors over his back, and Dick arched into it helplessly, grinding up against the soft cloth and—oh, hey .

“Are you hard for me, Mr. West,” he hummed, delighted, hips rolling languidly. “Oh dear. That’s not very professional, is it?”

Ach . Wally had been just distracted enough not to dodge the push of his hips, and he closed his eyes as a whimper came out, gripping Dick’s hips to keep himself composed. Really, he had nothing to say to that anyway, because, yeah, no , it wasn't that professional—and Wally had zero problems with that.

The toothy grin crept back over his face as he shimmied further down Dick’s legs and dragged his hands over his ass, alternately pressing palms flat, rubbing , and kneading, rolling half-fists over the supple, thick muscles there. He cupped them, thumb fitting over the juncture where his ass met his upper thighs and drummed his fingers over the sides and which turned into a delicious squeeze.

Dick had all of one moment to mourn the loss of Wally’s wonderful weight over his ass before it was replaced by hands , pushing and pulling until he was squirming, arching up, spine curving impossibly arms reaching back wrists locking around Wally’s neck and it didn’t take much leverage to flip them onto their sides, even less for him to roll until he was on top of Wally, seeking soft lips guiding large hands to his back— lower —rocking into a strong, flannel-covered thigh and no he wanted skin —

Breaking away, Dick tugged blindly at the waistband of the pajamas, except they were…

Stuck.

“I’m buying you elastic pajamas,” Robin growled, fumbling for the drawstring. Wally had the gall to laugh at him, so Dick knotted instead of untying, because Wally was awful at tying any thing and frankly that was just embarrassing for a superhero . “Why’re you wearing pajamas anyway? There’s no one else in the house .”

And really, denying him the view deserved just punishment.

Dick shimmied down his boyfriend’s thigh, trailing butterfly kisses down his throat and pausing to lick a nipple before tracing dry lips over hard abs, cupping Wally over his pajamas as his mouth found the string, missing his mark the first time—“ Heh. ”—and biting at a flat stomach. He licked his lips— salt on Wally’s skin —and went for it again, carefully working the knot with tongue and teeth, one hand squeezing and stroking and feeling wet seep through the thin cloth while the other slipped between Wally’s ass and the sheets and then inside the back of his pajamas, the drawstring loosening slowly— slowly —

An eternity to a speedster.

“Dude, the window blinds are open downstai—” Wally began, but swallowed his protests as Dick glided down his body—lips on pecs, abs, hips, sending goosebumps back up as he kissed just above his waistband—and then proceeded to untie the knot he’d made with his teeth.

Wally braced himself on his elbows—he wanted to see —and struggled to keep his hips from stuttering up into Dick— because that will just slow him down .

A low groan escaped him, needy and frustrated, as Dick took his sweet fucking time, running his hand down Wally’s pjs, giving almost as good as he got two minutes before. Finally, finally the knot came undone and Dick was tugging his pants around his thighs, his knees, and Wally frantically kicked them the rest of the way off while Dick climbed his way back up to snap Wally’s lower lip between his teeth; Wally kissed back in kind, sucking firmly on his tongue, cupping his hand over Dick’s ass to drag him close, legs tangled and hips pressing, rolling over the other’s.

His breath caught in his throat as he wrapped his fingers around both of them, palm still slick from the lotion, warm from the friction against Dick’s back, and he couldn’t quite chase the surreal— fantastic —feeling that flooded him away— how is this really happening, finally? The touch of Dick against him was more intense than he had thought it would be, thought it could be, sensitive skin rubbing against each other in his palm.

Wally was almost afraid to blink because what if when he opened them Dick wasn’t there, and this had been some kind of unbelievable dream? Dick was panting, lips open and wet, staring at Wally like maybe he knew what he was feeling.

Wally’s chest heaved against him, hand not quite closing around both their cocks, slick palm jerking up and down and his eyes held that look again, feelings Dick could return and there was something so incredible in being able to understand it—in knowing that it was reserved only for him, that those blown pupils were for him , that Wally was hard and rocking into him —

That he was going to come for him and no one else.

The angle was a little awkward— I should… —and a particularly hard thrust made Dick slip out of Wally’s grip— oh —the speedster’s hand stuttering as his body fought not to stop but his brain told him to recollect, so Dick used that opportunity to wind both arms around Wally and pull them both upright—

“C’mere—”

Short nails dug into his back as Wally scrabbled for balance on his lap, firm ass bouncing on his thighs as he folded his legs under him and Wally’s around his waist, and his hips were trapped by the extra weight but Dick was starting to realize that he liked it, his best friend solid and heavy above him, here and real and controlling the pace because Wally went faster, fell apart sooner , and it was—felt— perfect .

“ Better ,” he gasped as Wally picked him up again, pushed them together, stroking, pumping, twisting , familiar and not because the hand was smoother, softer, and Dick licked his own palm, reached down between, threaded long—enough to hold them both—callused—just the right side of too rough—fingers through Wally’s, letting the speedster direct the motion and listening to the whine that rose in Wally’s throat, high and unfettered and—

His .

Wally didn’t even register that he was whining; he was already so close under Dick’s calloused hands, the maddening friction was so delicious, so good, so good , and he struggled to hang on because he didn’t think Dick was there yet, and while he could totally just give him another blowjob, he wanted to see Dick come like this ; it was so different , something he’d never done before.

But it was really too late, and he felt a telltale shudder run down his back and straight to the head of his cock— dammit, too amazing, dammit —he gripped Dick’s shoulders as his head fell back and a groan escaped him and his hips stuttered twice into their palms, vision going white, and he came, coating their fingers.

Dick paused, but flushed and breathless, Wally pulled his head back and touched it to Dick’s forehead.

“Don’t stop,” he panted; he was just half hard, he could get there again. “ Please don’t stop.”

He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to, Wally’s come slick and spilling over his hand, the smack of wet flesh on flesh made more obscene by the ‘please’, please and Dick didn’t know how to refuse how to speak , so he kissed his best friend and pumped harder and harder until all he could think about was the speedster heat the warmth of Wally’s mouth the way he twitched in his hand his voice in his head—

“Write me how many notes there be

In the new Robin’s ecstasy—”

—loud and strong and so bad at reciting and oh yes ; Dick’s hips jerked helplessly at the memory—

“What would you know about a Robin’s ecstasy ?”

Dick broke the kiss with a popp p , licking at Wally’s red red lips—swollen and sore and shining—biting at his long long neck—pulling and sucking until the skin darkened and purpled and it was his invisible mark that no one would get to see but Wally could feel it, gasping into Dick’s shoulder, throwing his head back to give him more space, hips rolling and rolling and making Dick’s vision blur as they rubbed against each other.

“I have a Bird in the spring

Which for myself doth sing—”

And that was so true that he had to laugh into Wally’s chest, press his lips above his heart and imagine the muscle pump, in time with his arm that moved faster, faster, faster for Wally .

“Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb—of Me.”

Oh , Dick picked up right where he left off, never let Wally slip from his grasp, never let him free from the lips, tongue, teeth pressing against his skin, bruising, and the pleasure and pain shooting straight to his cock, hard against Dick’s silken length, sending a tremor through his hips.

Wally curled his fingers into the back of Dick’s hair, the top of his head brushing just under Wally’s chin as he sucked a mark on Wally’s chest.

He tugged on the black hair; DIck’s head rolled back to accomodate him, so that Wally could see. He’s only gotten an oblique view of Dick when he came before, barely able to lift his own head from Dick’s hip, and now he wanted to see what he’d always wondered about, what Dick looked like when he came, to burn it into his memory so he could see it even when they were talking over the phone, so he could have Dick near him always, so he could know this closeness inside and out , to make this a part of him, forever.  

Wally thwarted him as he surged forward for a kiss, leaning their foreheads together instead and Dick’s lips throbbed in need, breaths coming shorter and faster god he was so close and Wally was still holding his hand holding more and hah that was funny because how much more could there be when this was so amazing he just needed Wally’s tongue in his mouth to —

But all his best friend did was look at him, and Dick drowned in green eyes and speedster heat and love that was too overwhelming for him to know what to do with other than spill over their hands with a jumbled cry that could have been Wally’s name could have been a laugh or maybe a prayer, head lolling back as his muscles gave out, only dimly aware that he was still stroking, that something was yanking on his hair— yes —that he was trembling in his boyfriend’s arms and that Wally was shaking too, vibrating just a little—

Harder—

And harder—

And then there was even more warm and wet seeping through his fingers and Dick could finally, finally , collapse into Wally’s chest, boneless and exhausted and perfectly content with never surfacing again.

Wally let himself flop over Dick’s shoulders with a shaky laugh—he’d never admit it was a giggle—lightheaded and floating .

They were a sloppy mess, and forget the popsicles, he was going to have to do laundry in the morning regardless, but he couldn’t care less.

His fingers ached as he unwound them from Dick’s hair, he had been holding it so tight, and the delicious ache radiated throughout the rest of him as he unwound completely, gently pushing Dick so that he lay on his back below him, Wally braced above, with fingers from one hand still entwined with his.

“Hey,” he said softly, with a ridiculous, goofy grin plastered across his face. The tips of his toes traced the top of Dick’s foot to his ankle and back, soothingly, maybe just light enough to tickle.

I love you I love you I love you.

Nothing had ever felt so right; it felt right in his muscles, in the goosebumps that still hadn’t faded, in the tingle in his spine, in the brush of Dick’s thighs against his hips, the way Dick tangled their shins, the way a bead of sweat traced its way down his temple, the way Dick’s fingers trapped his own, the way his lips curled, red and kiss-worn and full, the way a bruise bloomed just below his collarbone—it could never last long enough , he’d have to replenish it daily —the way Dick’s pupils, blown wide with pleasure, filled the bright blue irises, the way he looked so happy ; happier than Wally had seen in him in a long, long time.

I did that .

We did that .

Together.

“What, my running commentary didn’t give you an idea?” And he was back to just—touching Wally again, little brushes over his eyes, nose, jaw, down his neck and over his shoulders and arms, the feeling of so much skin under his fingertips addictive .

What’s wrong? he didn’t ask, choosing to answer the question properly.

“I liked the way you looked at me.” Like I was the only thing in the world. “I liked your hands on my hips, holding me down.” God knows I couldn’t do it myself . “And your tongue —god, Wally, has anyone told you that thing’s practically sinful? ” Dick pressed his thumb to Wally’s lips—rubbing—“Oh well. It’s all mine now. Not that a bit of practice would hurt. I’m totally willing to be your guinea pig for the unforeseeable future.” He probably shouldn’t sound so happy about it, should probably stop himself from draping an arm over Wally’s waist, stroking, cupping—“I liked watching… this.”— squeezing —“All that running paid off in more ways than one, hmm?”

Dick tucked a strand of red hair behind Wally’s ear, but it didn’t stay put. Too short.

That was okay. He could do it again, and leave his hand there.

“If I close my eyes, I can still hear the sounds you made—you made me so hard.” He was making himself hard now, lashes fluttering shut, imagining Wally moan. “This was probably record time for me. And then you started vibrating.” Another squeeze. Nails lightly scratching the back of Wally’s neck. Lips parting in a stuttered sigh. “I might require a scientific explanation for how your mouth can do that.”

Dick knew, of course. It wasn’t anything new. Why he hadn’t thought that could be applied to this situation as well was somewhat of a mystery to him.

“Know what I liked best?” Wally’s eyes were wide, ridiculously green. Trained on him like he didn’t fully understand and—

This was new. This sudden… need to drop his gaze when Wally looked at him like that, the shyness and the blush he had to fight to keep down.

“I loved that you liked it,” Dick whispered, and didn’t say, I love that you love me.

A smile quirked at the edge of Wally’s lips, and he tucked his fingers under Dick’s bangs. The shy expression on Dick’s face made a lump form in his throat, not from sadness, but because it was somehow reassuring that Dick also … because Wally had been scared. Really scared. Surprisingly scared, and the fact he was so scared, honestly, was scary. He hated to admit it; it was dumb to still be fishing for reassurance—it had been awesome just now. Everything was okay .

But it hadn’t hit him just how enormous this was; what he—they—were risking by doing this; all of it, any of it, until tonight.

He pushed away his first instinct to bluster, to say something cocky; his second—to crawl over Dick and kiss him until he couldn’t see straight, to just drown in the feel of him and never think about how he was scared again. The second instinct was certainly more sincere, but it felt … misleading somehow. Like he’d gone into this hiding something from Dick—hiding from himself as well, but still.

"I’m really glad,” he said instead, softly. “Because I …”

He rolled onto his back again, pillowed against Dick’s ribs closing his eyes against Dick’s fingers, roaming now over his face and chest, light, loving.

“I don’t think I could go back,” he said, swallowing.

Dick froze.

“I couldn’t go back,” he repeated, blinking against watering eyes, a labored sigh escaping him. Christ, West, you’re worried about nothing. Nothing bad is even happening, what the hell.

He was having trouble figuring out what he was even trying to say, phantom fears at the edge of his mind: when he tried to look at them straight on, they evaporated.

Couldn’t go back to what? He couldn’t go back to last year? To losing Dick completely? To just being friends? What?

He almost wished he were angry, that this was a fight ; that’s when stuff like this usually appeared; it was so much easier to attack it than to … examine it? Was that the word?

Maybe he was maturing.

He couldn’t see where the vines were going in the forest, so he returned to the root, and the confession slipped out before he could figure out how to say what he was getting at. “I was scared,” he almost whispered. “Really scared. I -”

Don’t totally understand why.

“—because if—if you didn’t like it—if. I couldn’t.” Juvie and Slade and death and Dick's past… if I couldn’t beat them—if I couldn’t give you a healthy life, a healthy love life -

“I just,” he trailed off and tried again. “I couldn’t go back to last year. I can’t go back to you out of my life completely—I … ”

It took Dick a few moments to shake off the initial surge of panic and. Breathe.

Look up at the ceiling and count the cracks in paint.

“Last year was pretty shitty, wasn’t it,” he said quietly, folding his arms behind his head to stop them from moving, distracting. Wally’s hair tickled his stomach, creating a mild itch he didn’t really care to scratch. Something to focus on.

Seven, eight.

He sighed. “Wally. I can’t exactly promise something like that won’t happen again. That’s…” Not how our lives work. “I can’t even promise that we won’t have a fight and stop talking to each other for a while.” Because they did fight a good bit, even though they rarely took each other seriously, and relationships were always. They weren’t exactly easy.

Even though that’s how this felt. Easy. Familiar. Comfortable because the only people who knew them better were their mentors, and even that was debatable. But they hadn’t exactly been… official… for long, and they hadn’t seen a whole lot of each other during that time. There was a lot of baggage in this one.

A lot of baggage. And most of it was Dick’s.

Fifteen, sixteen…

He couldn’t promise they’d never break up, because he didn’t know how long Wally would be willing—no, that wasn’t right; Wally would always want to help—how long he’d be able to deal with Dick’s issues. It was exhausting for him ; it wasn’t fair to ask another person to… share this weight. It wasn’t.

Twenty-nine, thirty…

“But I,” he cleared his throat discreetly. Thirty-five, thirty-six… “I do love you.” Which made up for absolutely nothing. “And we got through last year. Just us. We did it, you know?” Dick wound his fingers into his own hair and pulled. Made it hurt just a little. “If we could do that, I kinda want to think—or—I do think, actually—that we can get through everything else, too. I mean, it might take a while, sure. But it’s you and me, man.” Dick and Wally. Robin and Kid Flash. They weren’t invincible together, but they came close. “How can we not be okay?

“No, I—” That wasn’t quite what Wally meant. Or maybe it was; Wally wasn’t sure himself right now.

“We’ll be okay,” he said, a yeah, of course underlying his tone. “And …"

We are okay, and I’m being over dramatic. Or something. There’s no way you’d bail on me for good. He’d overstated it, and he adjusted himself physically to try to work out the kinks.

Leaning over Dick diagonally, he braced one hand at his opposite hip, and caught Dick’s in the other, interlacing his fingers. He had a sudden craving for the day-old donuts he’d bought last night, the night of the almost-sext—normally he’d just eat his feelings when they were acting up like this—but it seemed a little rude to do that, especially when, well, they were stale donuts that Dick probably wouldn’t want. Among other things.

Regardless.

"I meant this,” Wally said, waving his hand to indicate their naked shenanigans. “I was just …” he choked on the word a little, “… scared.” Squinting at the corner of his room, Wally frowned as he tried to figure it out how to put it.

“I just never thought I’d be worried about being jealous of girls because I,” he snorted, “uh, didn’t have the right parts.”

Dick just looked at him.

“What I mean is that if we couldn’t … like, if this didn’t work out, because of outside things we can’t control, and we couldn’t stay together because—” he took in a breath. “If I couldn’t make you, uh—give this to you, tonight, or not even eventually, because I know we’d try really hard …”

Ugh this was hard, and the more he talked, the sillier he felt getting worked up about such a non-problem because it was all okay.

“… but I don’t know what I’d do.” He half laughed, letting his head fall to Dick’s shoulder, and he muffled his embarrassment into his collarbone. “But I’m pretty sure I’d resent every single one of your girlfriends for the rest of my life.”

It sounded so dumb, saying it out loud, and he tried and failed not to giggle, “… I’m also pretty sure I just hit sixth-grade girl level just now anyway. Maybe we should take a Cosmo test to see if this will all work out.”  

Running his thumb along Dick’s palm, he murmured: “The point is, I’m really glad.” Relieved, grateful, feel like I can do almost anything if I put my tongue to it. Heh. "That you liked it.“

“You were worried that we wouldn’t be… sexually… compatible…” Dick rolled the words around on his tongue for a few extra syllables, but that didn’t make them sound any less weird, out loud or in his head. “I.” Don’t really know what to say?

“I know I haven’t actually had many… favorable —” Or consensual. “Encounters with guys, but I… have always liked both guys and girls.”

Species notwithstanding.

It wasn’t something they’d actually talked about, because when Dick realized it he’d been the victim of a very unfortunate and highly embarrassing crush that he’d really rather not speak of. Ever. He’d rather not think about it if he could.

“I’ve found you physically attractive for a pretty long time, dude. There was just never a pressing need to do anything about it until last year.” Red hair, pretty eyes, nice butt, abs , what was there not to like? When he’d noticed, it had just been an observation. More of an I’d tap that than an active I want to tap that. Besides, Dick had been happily dating Zatanna at the time, and Wally had been with Artemis, and… frankly he hadn’t even considered it.

“I don’t. Know if I’ll be up for everything, but this.” He pulled Wally up for a soft kiss, just a quick press of lips to prove a point. “This is wonderful, Wally. I… well, I started it, so you know I like it.” He’d been starting just about everything, but that was. Dick could freak out about that in his own time. “The rest of it… it was amazing , but it’s not actually a requirement … for me.” If for some odd reason it hadn’t worked out, Dick would never have held Wally down to him, not when this was clearly so important to Wally —and he couldn’t help but be glad that he could give his best friend something he wanted —but he didn’t need to say it now. Not when Wally’s fears were already alleviated, even though Dick still didn’t fully… get it. “It sucked that shit happened, but I wouldn’t be here right now otherwise, so I can’t say I wish it hadn’t happened, you know? I like where I am. And I’m not going to let a couple bad experiences stop me from running my life the way I want.” His voice grew quiet. Fierce. “ I love you. This would have worked out no matter what because I love you and they can’t take that from me.”

They could have. They couldn’t stop him from wanting Wally, but they could have stopped Wally from wanting him.

But they didn’t.

And they couldn’t anymore.

Wally nuzzled into Dick’s neck, squeezing Dick tight, tight against him. “Yeah, I love you, too,” he said, confident, firm. The one thing he was sure of.

Dick choked.

In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea to deep-throat Wally just as the speedster tried to speak, but in his defense Dick hadn’t wanted Wally coherent enough to talk, which. At least it worked? It might have been an even worse idea to try to breathe through his nose as he held himself down, because suddenly his throat was coated with hot and thickgoing down the wrong way, forcing him to pull off, coughing and spluttering and barely remembering to replace his mouth with his hand, semen and saliva dribbling down his chin as he hacked up a lung and jerked Wally through his orgasm, the wall of tears building up in his eyes making the watching part unnecessarily difficult.

Wally was—

So fucking gorgeous.

—boneless, blissed out, still faintly vibrating, sagging into the mattress in a way Dick had never seen before—

I  did that.

—lips parting in a low sound of protest, twitching in Dick’s hand because—

—he’d forgotten to let go. Green eyes fluttered open, glazed, unfocused—welcome back, beautiful—a hint of concern fighting through the post-orgasm haze, and Dick hastened to swipe at his eyes and rub the back of his hand over his mouth, clearing his throat until it stopped stinging.

“It’s—I’m fine,” he reassured hoarsely, laughing a little because damn. He probably looked as much of a mess as Wally. “Caught me off-guard is all.” Really shouldn’t have, though, no matter how quick it was. Dickknew speedsters. Everything was fast for them.

“Forget me, you should—”

And he had to lean down, suck lightly on the head of Wally’s oversensitive cock and feel him jolt—

“You should see yourself.”

—dip his tongue into the bellybutton that still tasted faintly of strawberry and sweat, just enough to overcome the weird—not bad; just… odd—taste of come. He’d never tried swallowing before; it wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. They just needed. Better timing.

“Fuck, Wally.” Practice. “You’re amazing. The things I want to do to you.”

God. He needed.

“The things I want you to do to me.”

That bead of sweat making its way down Wally’s neck needed to be licked. Dick took care of it.

“Next time,” his grin was virtually audible. “You should fuck my mouth.”

As he came to, Wally’s cheeks flushed a dark red, up to the tips of his ears with embarrassment, and he tried to apologize — for coming too fast, for choking Dick, for — but it couldn’t quite make it through the float and the fuzz, and everything that came out of Dick’s mouth left him more and more speechless.

He could only moan as Dick’s tongue traced a wet trail along his neck, tangling his hands into the dark locks while Dick said things that made him ache and writhe.He finally pulled himself together enough to bring Dick up to meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“Wow,” he whispered, gently pressing his forehead to Dick’s. “That was, uhm … ” He tried to remember the last time he’d come so hard, so overwhelmingly, and he couldn’t. “I … ” — I can’t find the words — he trailed off, cheeks flushing a shade darker, embarrassed that he couldn’t express the way Dick had felt. The way Dick had made him feel. Maybe it was just because it’d been so long … but he doubted it.

He let his gaze drift over Dick’s face to his lips — those lips, oh god — and he noticed that — well — “You, ah, have a little …” Wally brought his hand up to cup Dick’s cheek and rub his thumb over the stray drop of come that remained just beneath his bottom lip, but he didn’t. Instead, he did something he’d never, everdone before: he leaned down and kissed it away.

And he kept kissing, down Dick’s jaw and back up it, capturing his lips: a kiss that became more and more fevered — he tastes like me — as his hands wrapped possessively around Dick’s back; Wally drew him down, over him, and, never breaking his onslaught, he wrapped a leg around him and flipped them over, bracing himself over his boyfriend as he mouthed his way over his neck, grinding carefully down on him as he nibbled on his collarbone, catching a nipple between his teeth, and then his finger and thumb as he went farther south, mouth open and tongue tracing the outlines of Dick’s abs until he —

He paused when he reached the waist of Dick’s jeans, and truth be told, he wasterrified. Not about whether or not he wanted to do this, or even whether he would enjoy it — his little fit in the alley had cleared that up nicely for him — but just —

Dick had been so amazing, and what if, in the end, he didn’t like it? Even if Wally was okay at it — though he was pretty sure had a gag reflex, and Dick had almost … it was almost like he’d practiced or something — what if it just … didn’t work? What if this was just something they couldn’t have? He almost didn’t want to knowthe answer, and just … exist in this little Schrodinger’s Sex Bubble forever.

But he couldn’t. It was time to kill and/or save the cat.

His fingers trembled a little as he bit his lip and massaged Dick with one hand, the other poised just over his jeans button. Wally peeked up through thick eyelashes at Dick, propped up on his elbows, staring back with those crystal blue eyes, pink tongue darting out over glistening lips, and asked a silent question: This okay?

Dick nodded, a little urgently. Grinning, Wally unzipped Dick’s jeans and pushed open his fly, his cock erect against his stomach. He twitched under Wally’s light grip as he ran his thumb from his base to the bottom of his head, and Wally shivered in kind, his Cheshire grin stretching wider across his face. The skin around Dick’s hips was just a little flushed and warm, and when Wally planted a wet, open mouthed kiss on them he jerked; Wally reached over and pinned him down against the mattress, and — waiting just a second for a “wait,” “no,” or “stop”  — ran the flat of his tongue from his base to his tip and swallowed him.

His elbows gave way under him and Dick crashed onto the mattress, throwing up a hand reflexively to bite into and stifle his whimper only oh god that hand still tasted like Wally and was he supposed to be able to stop himself from sucking two fingers into his mouth because if so he was failing spectacularly and he didn’t even care. Propping himself up on one arm, Dick craned his neck as far as he could but it still wasn’t—he couldn’t—

“Wally,” the name came out muffled, and Dick was forced to disengage his fingers reluctantly; he had to get it out before his boyfriend scrambled his brain like eggs. “Wally, wait. Wait.”

He felt Wally freeze, pulling off and looking up and why was it so hard to find words that weren’t “No don’t stop!” because he was taking this the wrong way Dick just wanted—

“Let me—” he moaned, trying to smile, to reassure, but it was taking all his focus to not just grab the speedster and shove him back down. “Sit. Let me sit up I want to—oh I want to see you can—can I…?”

That was a ‘yes’, wasn’t it? That little grin was Wally blushing it was hard to tell he was still a bit red and oh so pretty, helping Dick push himself up lean against the headboard, letting him grasp for his hand, lick the palm and lead it down between them.

“I.” Wally was watching him, firm fingers wrapped around his length, and Dick should probably ask—make sure Wally knew he didn’t have to return the favor—that he didn’t need to…

Fuck it.

“Suck me already, will you?”

The grin stretched bigger, brighter; Wally went down on him again without a word, and Dick should probably make a note of how good his best friend was with orders, except he was too busy staring.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said reverently, reaching to touch Wally’s back, stretched out before him, lean muscle and curving spine and he could see the tattoo for the first time, fully healed, lightning bolts arching down just over his ass and oh god the sight was making him even harder in Wally’s mouth.

“Wally, Wally, that’s—” Dick didn’t even know what he was saying anymore because Wally was humming around him and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open fist the soft red hair and babble the only things he could think of everything he could feel. “You’re—that feels fantastic—your tongue—god do that again.”

It wasn’t the most perfect blowjob he’d ever received by a long shot but Wally was eager—he loves me—and it was the best one, and Dick had never been this close this fast before but he fought to hold off—wait—he couldn’t let this end just yet, not when Wally was getting better by thesecond.

“Harder.” Wally was being—too careful—Dick should give him another reminder—not porcelain—something—he couldn’t remember— “You can go. As fast as you want—or—” Oh no don’t slow down; he really needed to stop talking.“Fuck you can do whatever you want I—”

Robin laughed. Gasped. He didn’t even know.

“I swear I can shut up long enough for you to make me come.”

God, Dick wouldn’t shut up. Wally closed his eyes and took Dick deeper, faster, harder — not all the way — but a little more each time, eliciting another moan and some barely audible comment from his boyfriend, and Wally couldn’t help but grin around him. It was awesome.

He was relaxing into it now, rubbing deep circles with his thumbs into the hips he had pinned tight, rookie jitters dissolving as he got caught up in the rhythm of it; in Dick’s taste and feel and those sounds; it was unspeakably hot, and he himself was achingly stiff again. 

Dick tugged on his hair, and Wally groaned wantonly and slid flat on his stomach because he needed to grind. His leverage over Dick’s hipbones wasn’t quite as good at this angle, and Dick had arched up into him, keening — and Dick wasn’t supposed to feel this good against his tongue, against the back of his mouth —but he had to backup.

Secretly hoping he’d pressed hard enough to bruise, to mark, he pulled his knees under him again, and wrapped one free hand around Dick’s base and — maybe this was bad blowjob etiquette — but the other around himself, squeezing, trying so hard not to come again, already. He was trembling with effort —  from this angle he could look up through his eyelashes and see Dick above him — hair in his eyes lips parted long neck craned gorgeous. The tremble turned into a whine, and he hadn’t really planned on this — not with his whole mouth wrapped around Dick, he didn’t know how sensitive he was, he couldn’t think, he wasn’t in control — but he also couldn’t help it, and it stuttered into vibrations, his fingers pushing down, palms massaging down the base of his cock, just above his balls, the beginning of his throat shivering around Dick’s head, his tongue sweeping up his length as he hummed and moaned helplessly.

Come with me, he was about to say when Wally suddenly started—fuck—his mouth—he was vibrating—

“Ёбанный в рот,” Dick gasped, body collapsing over Wally, muscles locking up in a strange combination of shock and ecstasy and he couldn’tsee Wally anymore, face pressed against his head, barely breathing as his boyfriend buzzed around him drove him out of his mind.

I love you.

He was reasonably sure he didn’t pass out because he could still feeleverything Wally was doing, every minute movement of his tongue his lips his hand but it was so fast blurring together until he was drowning in waves of sensation he couldn’t control couldn’t escape, so he handed himself over to his best friend and just… drifted.

I love you.

At some point Dick realized he was sort of… chewing on Wally’s hair, and a part of him had the sense to stop, gather himself enough to—touch—pet over smooth, unscarred skin, Wally’s thighs blocking access to his cock but Dick could reach his chest, find a pert little nipple and pinch, and the way Wally moaned made his eyes flutter shut, the heat in his stomach seeping lower and coiling and coiling and—

“সরো!” he tugged weakly at his hair, close so close—

Wally seemed to have taken the hint, lips opening—the heat of his mouth suddenly gone—hand wrapped around him and pumping—Dick barely had the self-control to let him up—trail fingers down his abs—

Come with me—

“मैं तुमसे प्यार करता हुँ|” he whispered, and—

Fell.

Wally was lost, hands over soft skin—abs, hips, thighs, long scars, long legs, sharp hips, knees, calves—and flavors—salty and bitter and new—fingers around his nipples and a pinch and he barely realized the tug at his hair—yes so good—was meant as a warning. When he tuned in to what Dick was telling him, he couldn’t even kneel upright; he just fell off him, head on Dick’s hip next his cock, eyes half-open, watching Dick arch into the palm that had replaced his mouth, running his own fingers over himself at the same rhythm—praying it wasn’t too fast—panting, trying to catch his breath and—

Was Dick speaking in tongues? 

The thought sent a burst like fireworks through his center, leaving him shivering and feverish and just—he curled into himself, head still braced against Dick; he wanted to see—please let me see—palms tingling, almost numb, and—together,together—he came with a cry as thin strips of white were painted across Dick’s torso—a wave of elation breaking over him as he tilted his head to catch a glimpse of Dick’s face—neck arched, throat open for kissing, for marking, for me, eyes shut, cheeks flushed, face flooded with euphoria—

It was the most stunning thing he’d ever seen, and he choked out a broken “Yes”—

—before collapsing completely. 

He melted; Wally melted into the bed, into Dick like warm chocolate, flowing his way slowly up to be level with Dick, tucking himself under Dick’s arm and burying his head into his collarbone.

He almost had to laugh at the delight that permeated his every pore, at the relief; if he weren’t so destroyed he’d want to run, run until his feet hurt, until his arms ached from being held above his head, until he couldn’t stand up, until—well—until he felt as close as he could get to how he felt right now.  

The absurd tautology tickled, and he giggled into Dick’s collarbone, an exhausted, victorious laugh—god I love you, I love you so much, so so much, you’ve broken me—until Dick opened his eyes to look at him.

"Wooooo!" he said, completely sincere, triumphant, a ridiculous counterpoint to Dick’s artful tongue, but he couldn’t find words so he put it as best he could into a firm, joyful kiss:

I love you.

If he could laugh, he totally would—did you just cheer?—but as it was he couldn’t even really kiss back. Wally did all the work; Dick kind of just sat there and. Petted his hair. Then grinned as his hand brushed over a wet patch and… another wet patch.

“I think you caught some in your hair,” he mumbled into Wally’s mouth, licking over a row of teeth and biting at his bottom lip. Wally shifted against him, a comfortable weight draped over his body, both of them sweaty and warm and more than a little sticky in the most wonderful way. “I’ll help you wash it out tomorrow.”

Water conservation. It was a legitimate thing.

Wally sucked on his tongue in reply. Dick could barely move his lips, but he somehow mustered the energy to groan, sliding a hand down Wally’s back and cupping his ass.

Breaking away was harder than it should have been.

“Guess all those rumors about speedsters are true.” He wrapped his free arm around Wally, but his boyfriend squirmed out of the grip, sliding down until his head was settled in Dick’s lap. Robin carded long fingers through red hair and smiled at the kisses dipping into the hollows of his hips.

“You gotta give me another minute, KF.” His cock didn’t fully agree, twitching weakly in anticipation, but. “It’s your own fault. I could’ve done two in a row, but you had to go and make that mindblowing.”

“Yeah?" Wally said, maybe a little too much surprise slipping into his voice. "Tch …duh, of course,” he covered, rolling onto his back to look straight up at Dick with a cheesy grin. He tucked one hand behind his head and checked his fingernails on the other: “This is the Wallman you’re talking about.”

Wally swiveled so he lay perpendicular to Dick, who was still leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched in front of him. They made a good pillow, and Dick adjusted his hands from petting Wally’s head to absentmindedly tracing his fingers over the ridges of Wally’s ears. It was incredible how nonchalant Wally felt, totally buck naked, legs bent a little and braced on the wall on the far side of the bed, big toe unconsciously tracing the bottom edge of his NuTrek poster.

A silence fell over them. Dick seemed content, one thumb brushing the sides of his jaw, the other carding through his bright red hair again. Wally grew antsy, though, as the moment dragged on, and he fidgeted—squirming slightly to get more comfortable, leaning into the slight rise and even fall of Dick’s diaphragm just above Wally’s head.

Oh, we should really …

"Just a sec," Wally said, a soft breeze replacing his spot until he returned a millisecond later with some tissues to wipe Dick off, and he himself palmed through his hair, making a little face. "I hear it makes good hair gel, though." He barked a laugh, maybe too loud, tossing a balled up tissue into the bin.

Crawling back to his previous spot, he settled in again; Dick’s hands resumed their pleasant, languid roaming, and Wally tried to relax into the moment, but he just couldn’t get quite … he tossed to one side and then the other, finally coming to rest on the side facing Dick, with his face buried into the juncture of his hip.

"Wally?" Dick asked, giving him a squeeze on his shoulder.

At least Wally’s resulting complaining woke him up, and they pinched each other all the way back to the zeta tube, until Wally pinched Dick’s butt and Dick stepped on his feet in revenge. The speedster only used that as an excuse to lean into him once they’d beamed into Central, feigning a limp and making Dick half-drag him to his house.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” Dick huffed, throwing Wally against his closed front door. Wally just laughed at him, finding his keys. The smell of petunias pervaded the air and Dick blinked, suddenly remembering—

“Hey, we didn’t leave the chocolates here, did we?” He could distinctly recall eating a couple on the train, but he’d forgotten about them after that. They didn’t have dessert and he wanted a raspberry truffle.

Oh crap. Wally froze, wracking his brain for the last time he’d seen the chocolate.Right.

In the gutter. Crushed by the wheels as they escaped the van. He hadn’t even had time to mourn. He sunk into himself, sheepish. “Uh,  the van ate them…?”

Dick gave him an annoyed look, brushing past Wally with a put-upon sigh, shucking off his jacket and hanging it over a chair. 

"Totally not my fault," Wally whined, digging through the freezer. Dick obviously wanted something sweet and so did he. They were out of ice cream - but they did have some popsicles behind the peas. "Want a popsicle? You like red, don’t you?”

He paused, pulling out one for himself. “Or we have uh … day old donuts. Man, I’m sorry, dude, I really didn’t think -“ 

Dick accepted the popsicle, with a slight grin and a small roll of his eyes, and headed out of the room backwards, eyes on Wally as he grabbed his hand and took them up the stairs. 

Popsicles. Of course there would be popsicles.

He sat cross-legged on Wally’s bed, tearing at the packaging as his boyfriend zoomed around the room, finding controllers and setting up the game. By the time Wally had plopped down on the bed himself, Dick had drained the top part of his red popsicle white.

Now it was just plain ice. Great. He bit off a little bit, letting it melt to water on his tongue as he watched Wally fiddle with the controllers with one hand and suck at his blue popsicle with the other.

The temptation to put on a show was near-overwhelming.

“You know,” he started conversationally. Wally looked up, lips tinted blue, and Dick wanted to suck the color off them the same way he’d sucked it off his popsicle. “I’ve never actually tried this before.”

And he licked a long, slow stripe up the frozen treat, ignoring the fact that he couldn’t really feel the inside of his mouth anymore.

“Let me know if it’s working,” he encouraged, eyes closed and concentrating on giving the popsicle the best blowjob he could manage, tongue twirling and lips sucking and slurping and.

And he could feel Wally’s eyes on him.

It was no secret that Dick enjoyed showing off, but it was a surprise when he felt his own pants tighten in eagerness,and as he fluttered his lashes open to look up at his best friend, the moan that tore out of him wasn’t entirely faked.

He was the center of Wally’s attention, and he was definitely enjoying it very… very… much.

Dick hummed and leaned back on his palm, throwing his head back and pushing the entire length of the popsicle down his throat.

Wally’s heart dropped into his stomach and his own popsicle almost fell to the bed watching Dick do … that. Dick may have looked completely ridiculous, but Wally really wasn’t in the right frame of mind to decide, and as Dick slowly, tortuously pulled his popsicle out of the back of his throat, looking Wally right in the eye with a really stupid smirk on his face.

That Wally wanted to kiss right off. 

Time stuttered as he reached up and pushed Dick’s popsicle out of his way with the back of his hand, slowly, slowly to him, and he was so glad right now he’d had them in his freezer because otherwise his throat would be bone dry from nerves, and - what did he have to be nervous about? He’d done this lots of times; he’d done much more lots of times - but truth be told he was terrified. He hadn’t been this terrified for years and years; he couldn’t remember the last time his heart had beaten like a broken drum, pulse buzzing in his ears, his fingers trembling as he wrapped his free hand around Dick’s ribs, massaging, rubbing his thumb, tracing the bones and muscles there, as one knee slid to the other side of Dick’s lap to catch on his hip, and now Wally was kneeling over him, straddling him, eyes wide, with a look on his freckled face that was almost deer in headlights, trapped, enthralled by him and and in his thrall.

Wally felt like this moment wasn’t just happening, it was happening to him, and he was scared to take a breath and break the spell; he wanted it to stretch into forever, to etch those bright blue eyes, the twist of his smile into eternity: the way his bangs fell over his eyebrows, his hair growing into soft curls at the nape of his neck, the angle of his shoulder as he leaned back on his hand, the agonizingly slow crawl of a single red drip from the popsicle flowing over Wally’s thumb as he pushed it away from Dick’s full, neon red lips, lips screaming “kiss me.”

So he did.

Dick didn’t even see Wally move.

Between one blink and the next his supporting arm gave way as Wallycrashed into him and Dick’s back hit the mattress, lips on his before he could register he was being kissed, the popsicle barely held off the bed as he tried and failed to hold in the laughter bubbling out of his chest, loud and joyous and oh, there was Wally’s tongue, moving almost too fast for him to feel, so Dick invited him in, let him go at his own pace but Wally had slowed down for him, massaging warmth and feeling into his cold and slow mouth and waiting for him to catch up and Dick.

Dick tangled his fingers into Wally’s hair and arched into his touch, smile melting into hi and hello and did you miss me? and laugh morphing into a gasp that was everything short of fuck me but so much more than I want you and Wally might have understood all of it or nothing at all but his mouth—oh god—his mouth was sucking down Dick’s jawthroatneck it was perfect he was perfect and how did Dick get so lucky?

“Wally,” he gasped, desperate to use both his hands but one was ocupado, and Dick was about one second away from just dropping the popsicle wherever and tearing off Wally’s sweater. “The sheets.”

Like a thunderclap, real time came pouring in, flooding his senses, Dick’s laughter chiming in his ears, the cool roll of his tongue over Wally’s, and he ached, a delicious ache, like he was coming to rest after years of hard labor, every muscle alive and thrumming, finally relaxing into homehomehome.

The taste of sickly sweet syrup in his mouth melted into the savory flavor of Dick’s neck, and it was probably the most delicious thing he’d ever had and fuck he was not going to be able to eat a popsicle again without getting painfully hard. Which he already was. 

The hand holding his own popsicle and Dick’s at bay was already starting to cramp from the awkward angle when Dick squirmed beneath him in frustration: “Wally, the sheets.” 

And Wally tried not to stick his popsicle into Dick’s free hand too frantically, but it’s really a close call when an acrobat almost drops it, and Wally wasn’t going to help him since he was busy peeling off his own sweater as fast as he could, all arms and elbows and squirming torso. Before his sweater even hit the ground, Wally had plucked both popsicles out of Dick’s hands in turn, and would have rucked Dick’s shirt up with his teeth if Dick wasn’t already half-way out on his own. 

A low needy whistle slipped through his teeth as Dick fell back to the bed on his elbows, shadows cast from his small bedside lamp outlining his abs, the deep grooves in the porcelain white skin, criss-crossed with scars, covered only by his latest bandage, tally marks of Dick’s foibles and victories, each one ultimately a triumph because he was here, he was alive and warm and his. 

He bent over to trap Dick’s still candy red lips between his teeth, gently, carefully, completely, and he tried not to grin too mischievously as he let the tip of his blueberry pop fall - ptah -against Dick’s nipple.

Dick jumped in surprise, but he would forever deny that the sound that came out of his throat was a squeak, because he definitely articulated a full “Jesus Christ!” when Wally’s burning lips covered his nipple, and then he was laughing again—“Oh my god what are you doing?”—as his boyfriend traced the red pop over his clavicle, down his chest, hot tongue tracing over the cool paths and making Dick shiver and buck at the same time, over and over until half the blue popsicle was gone and he was left a quivering mess on the wrinkled sheets.

“Wallyyyyyy,” he keened, because apparently he was entirely unable to shut up no matter the situation, and Wally fucking laughed at him—you’ll wish you hadn’t—but that was the all the pause Robin needed to hook one leg over the redhead’s waist, lever himself up and flip them over. Settling comfortably over Wally’s denim-covered hips—and maybe grinding down a little—Dick grabbed the strawberry pop from his hand and grinned down at his boyfriend.

“My turn.”

He didn’t have Wally’s stupid overheated body, but as he bit off a large portion of the popsicle, Dick decided he didn’t need it.

Because Wally was flushed all the way from his ears down past the hem of his jeans, which, really. Redheads.

Dick kissed him, passing the fast-melting block of pop from his mouth to Wally’s, licking at it until Wally was forced to swallow around his tongue to avoid choking. Heh, said Dick’s smile as he pulled back and broke off another piece, and here’s to payback was implied in the way his mouth sank onto Wally’s nipple, twirling the cold around and over the hardened nub and dragging what was left to the opposite side, feeling Wally react to the obnoxious noises Dick made as he slurped up what he couldn’t lick off.

This, Robin did his best to convey through the third chunk he just left sitting in Wally’s bellybutton, slowly melting as he popped the final bit of red into his mouth and skimmed it over heated abs up to a freckled neck, cool fingers dancing over what his lips couldn’t reach. Is totally something we’re doing again.

Wally’s blueberry pop was practically falling off its stick, dripping over his hand, so Dick plucked it from his fingers and brought them up to his lips to suck clean.

Wally held his breath as Dick dragged the frightfully cold chunk of popsicle across his torso, trembling with the effort of staying still so that the sticky syrup didn’t melt off his body and onto his sheets - probably a lost cause, but arching up off the bed and into Dick, into his mouth, would definitely leave him with some explaining to do to his mom next laundry cycle.

That went out the window anyway, though, when Dick closed his mouth over the red pop pooling in his belly button, and he couldn’t help but wind his mostly sucked-clean fingers into Dick’s hair as his back came clean off the bed with a soft cry of pleasure that dissolved into a giggle because “Fuck, that tickles, dude.” 

He’d have to tell his mom he fell asleep with a half eaten popsicle or something. 

Totally worth it, because this was delicious in every sense of the word, and so new, such an electric combination of the familar - Dick’s smell, his weight, his rhythm - with the unfamiliar - his taste, the warmth of his tongue, his hands over my hips, my ribs, oh god his touch.

And he wanted nothing more right now than to feel all of him, but …

Well, among other reasons, he was a little concerned that the second Dick touched him, he’d … uh …

Wally distracted himself from that embarrassing thought by sliding his hand over Dick’s back - twisting muscles, soft skin - and dipped his fingers tentatively into the back of his jeans over his box-

… or he would have, if Dick was wearing any boxers. The thought made him buck and moan beneath him before he collected himself enough to grin and say: “I thought I was the one who was supposed to go commando.”

“Mm, I always forget,” Dick scraped his teeth over the faint scar on Wally’s stomach, the one that refused to heal, rolling his hips back into Wally’s palm, sucking in his stomach to give him more space to slide it further into his jeans. He couldn’t keep it up, though, releasing the breath with a huff and a stilted groan. “I’m just less… ah…vocal about my poor memory when it comes to putting on underwear.”

That, and Wally was used to seeing him undressing only when he was changing out of Robin. Dick did his best to remember to wear briefs with his uniform; the armor chafed.

His fingers caught on the edge of Wally’s pants, and the belt was halfway undone before his mind caught up; Dick forced himself to let go—it was so much harder fighting his body when he really, really didn’t want to—sitting back on his haunches and fixing Wally with the most serious gaze his flushed cheeks would allow.

“Wally, are you…” his voice was too low, too thick. Dick cleared his throat, reaching back to lay his hand over the one gripping his ass. “Are you sure you want to do this? Tonight? With me?”

Something flickered in his best friend’s eyes, and Robin had to lean down to kiss him, scramble his brain and keep the doubt away for as long as he could.

“I want to,” he murmured against Wally’s lips, warm and pliant beneath his own. Dick could just. Stay here and kiss him forever and he’d never ask for anything else because this was so much more than he ever thought he could have. “I do. But I can wait. I’ve waited a long time for you; a few more days or months won’t kill me. I need to know if you’resure.”

Wally backed up a bit, and the look on his face said “You must be crazy,” but what came out of his mouth was a happy laugh and “Are you kidding? Of course.”

He kissed up Dick’s neck to his ear and, grinning against it, whispered, “I love you.”

This… wasn’t exactly what he was supposed to do in situations like this, Dick thought as he hid a smile in Wally’s shoulder, arms wrapped so tight around the speedster it was a wonder he was still breathing, both of them still half-hard and trapped between each other because the only thing Dick could do anymore was crush Wally to himself and… make sure he was still there. Be absolutely certain that he wasn’t just imagining Wally’s hand still down the back of his pants and the tang of berries on his tongue and the salt on Wally’s skin and the way his boyfriend’s mouth shaped the words leaving a sizzling pressure in Dick’s chest that he didn’t care to relieve.

Wally didn’t seem to mind the impromptu hug, quietly rubbing his back until Dick had had his fill and letting him go when he scrambled up and away, even removing his hand so Dick could wind their fingers together.

Say that again, was almost at the tip of his tongue, but Dick caught himself at the last second, changing the topic of conversation before  he forgot and Wally swept him away as easily as a leaf in a storm, because that’s what Dick was, and he didn’t know how to be a rock instead.

“Then we need to establish something.” It was a more or less revised speech, one he’d shared with first Zatanna and then Barbara, but neither of them had known what Wally did, and Dick refused to do this until they both stood on level ground.

Robin was a lot of things, most of them weak and frail and not worth speaking of, but breakable wasn’t one that list.

“A safe word.” He watched Wally’s face. “Pretty sure you know the basic concept.” The jibe couldn’t be helped, really. “I’d actually like to get on with this at some point soon, so we can figure out something better another time, but for tonight it can be…” Traffic lights. Robin’s colors. Green, yellow, red. “Stop.”

There was a little rattle in his heart that he knew only he could hear, reminding Wally of all the reasons a teenager participating in consensual, generic, vanilla sex would even think of using a safe word, why he needed be certain he was being offered before he took, but.

I love you.

“The safe word is ‘stop’,” Dick swallowed, hands clenching reflexively around Wally’s. “Wait means wait. No means… try something else. Or they mean nothing at all. It doesn’t matter; you can decide. The onlyword that matters is ‘stop’, and I need you to remember that, Wally. I trust you to stop when I say ‘stop’, and I want you to say ‘stop’ if you need me to stop. I won’t…” He paused uncertainly, because he was used to this; Wally wasn’t. What if he forgot? But it was an easy enough word, and he could learn. “I won’t hold off for anything else, and neither will you. If I hesitate, if I try to throw you off—” Which, if he did try, he’d probably be successful so he wasn’t sure how much weight that held. “—none of it means that I want you to stop. I’m trusting you to let me know if you’re uncomfortable with anything at all, and you need to trust me to do the same, and we do it only through this safe word.” His eyes pinned Wally down, intense, steady. “Stop. Remember it. Say it now.”

Wally exhaled under Dick’s squeeze, breath ruffling the dark lock of hair tufting out over his ear. Dick was the “wrong” size; too big; to angular, but Wally found that he really liked that, the way his arms wrapped around him, holding him together. Sometimes he felt like he’d rattle apart, and Dick made him feel … contained. He almost felt sorry when Dick backed away, and let the cool air rush in. 

“Then we need to establish something.”

Wally rolled his eyes a little at the insinuation that he didn’t even know what a safe word was, but he was a little surprised that Dick needed tonight. How far did he think they would go? Wally wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for “everything.” Just. The logistics of it. 

Actually, though, as Dick walked him through the rules, he felt relieved. Relieved to know that Dick would tell him, verbally, where the lines were; he wouldn’t have to guess; he wouldn’t have to figure out what every little movement meant.

He’d trust that Dick knew his own limits. That they wouldn’t wake up tomorrow wondering how they’d gotten themselves into this mess.

He’d never thought about it before - that somehow he thought he knew what Dick was more comfortable with than Dick did. That was awful, and this was such a weight off his shoulders.

And … it wasn’t like he’d forget the meaning of “stop” under any circumstances - or, for that matter, “wait” or “no.” He’d never really been into pretending that sort of … power imbalance. At least not to the point that those words lost their meaning. And in spite of Dick’s, uh, scolding today - and he’d try really hard not to - he was probably not going to be able to help erring on the safe side tonight.

He nodded his head somberly, giving Dick’s hands a squeeze and saying, “Stop. I got it.” Another soft squeeze. “It’s ‘stop’.” 

“Okay,” Dick smiled, relief evident in the slump of his unconsciously squared shoulders, because Wally was taking all of this in stride and that was… good. It was a whole lot more than he was expecting, and considering he’d managed to think up quite a large number of worst case scenarios over the past week, this was excellent. He slid back on Wally’s legs, nimble fingers unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper, and if Wally had any qualms about Dick grabbing both his jeans and boxers, he didn’t let them show as he lifted his hips and Dick tugged them—everything—down, off, onto the floor.

There was skin—so much—too much, and Dick. Dick needed to distract himself now.

“So that’s where it ends,” he laughed—loud, warm—nudging long legs apart and nuzzling the soft skin of freckled thighs where the blush began to fade, laying his cheek on the sinewy muscle and grinning at his boyfriend’s very eager erection. Not exactly new, but definitely surreal.

Wally. Sprawled on his back. So hard for him.

“Why hel-lo there.” Dick could almost imagine the look on Wally’s face. “I think you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Which was somewhat of a lie, because the last time he’d clearly seen Wally’s dick—Dick stifled a giggle like he was thirteen again—he hadn’t paid enough attention to notice anything other than that the speedster was bigger. But Dick was just hitting his first growth spurt, back then. He’d caught up.

For me. You’re here. For me.

“I really want to blow you.”

His frankness surprised even him, but Dick was already walking two fingers up the sheets between his boyfriend’s legs, and it was either say something even stupider or do something else with his mouth, so he cupped Wally’s balls with one hand, parted his lips and sank down on him—down, down—relaxing his throat until his nose brushed the soft curls at the flat of the base, watching Wally through the hair in his eyes and oh Dick was aching, harder than he’d been in so long, but somehow it didn’tmatter because Wally was arching into his mouth moaning because ofhim and there was nothing more important than this sight this smell these sounds this taste.

I can—he could—have this.

Wally opened his mouth to wonder aloud how he’d fallen for such an unbelievable dork, but that was quickly swallowed with a needy whimper when: "I really want to blow you," Dick said, walking his fingers between his legs to his balls.

Then he swallowed him whole. 

And, just barely prepared, Wally threw his head back with a soft cry, trying so hard not to push back into him, but it didn’t even matter because - fuck how does he have no gag reflex? - soon he felt Dick’s lips encompass his base, and everythingwas pressure, hot and wet, each swipe of Dick’s tongue along his shaft, the way his hands fisted the sheets so hard that he could still feel the press of his fingernails into his palms through the cloth, the twist of the muscles in his back as he arched up off the bed, desperate, needy.

It had been so long. So long since someone had touched him like this, with suchintensity, and - he hated to admit it, but - it had been lonely, the nights he curled up with a pillow, distracting himself with schoolwork until he passed out, book open on his bed. All the times he’d picked up his phone and almost texted Dick, the months that flowed by like molasses. 

And it was worth. Every. Second.

"And a coke." 

"A-alright, let me get this in," the pert brunette said as she started to walk away, still struggling to get it all down. 

"Oh, no, wait, darlin’," Wally turned back to the waitress, dropping into a Missouri accent and lightly catching her apron before she got too far. "He hasn’t ordered yet.”

Dick shot Wally a flat look. “Two Ithaca White Golds, please. That’s all.”

"Okay," she tilted her head. "Can I see some ID?"

Wally stared at Dick with his mouth agape for just a split second as he watched Dick dig out his wallet innocently, because Wally totally didn’t have a fake ID on him. Dick didn’t even look him in the eye as the redhead pulled himself together and, reluctantly, his wallet out of his jeans. And there it was: Wally West, 22 years old, citizen of Central City.

His eyes narrowed in his boyfriend’s direction: Little pickpocket. 

Not bad recovery, Dick asserted with the most innocent of smiles as the waitress inspected their IDs with a suspicious glance at him—she could actually run them and find a history of their lives if she so chose; Robin had been very thorough in putting together their alternate biographies—and, finding them to her satisfaction, handed them back.

“I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute,” she said. Dick flashed her a quick smile in thanks, hoping to make up for his best friend’s trulyatrocious attempts at flirting. Robin waited until the woman was out of earshot before kicking Wally under the table—hard.

“Must you embarrass me with your irrepressible need to hit on every humanoid shape in the room, darlin’?” he mimicked the accent perfectly—Wally should really pull it out more often—but the grin he was completely failing to hide took the sting out of his words. “And dude, if you’re calling a barely second-rate kidnapping attempt a mission, you must be pretty bored up in Stanford.”

Wally shrugged. Well. Yeah, actually. 

“There’s not a lot Kid Flash can do there, really. If he shows up in East Palo Alto, it’s a short list of kids who could be Kid Flash from Central Central. And I think the other three are girls.” He pulled apart a bread roll and stuffed it in his mouth gracelessly. “It’ss twoo bad. Palo Alto is full of the super rich, but just across the train tracks—almost literally—is a city that could use some help. Not fair.” Wally grinned through another bite. “And I am trying to graduate this decade, so … Central gets less help than I’d like, too.” 

It was boring.

Their waitress, Shelly, arrived, already looking harried, with three of the appetizers and their beers, and the table was already starting to crowd. Wally, for his part, didn’t dig in right away, hanging back until the moment that she popped off the cap to his White Gold and turned to Dick to do the same—then he chugged it as fast as he could. 

When she turned back less than two seconds later, his face was flushed red with the sudden inebriation of drinking $18 dollars of an extra-large bottle of beer on an empty stomach in milliseconds, and he hardly held back a comical hic, batting his eyes at her briefly before turning his full, doe-eyed gaze at Dick in barely disguised, sickly sweet adoration. 

He plucked a piece of shrimp from the table and popped it in his mouth, letting his head loll lopsidedly as he chewed.

"Hey," he tried not to slur. 

Dick stared.

Shelly stared.

Wally didn’t even notice her staring, and Dick squished the sudden urge to coo at the ridiculousness that was his boyfriend.

“I think we’ll take another beer,” he told the flabbergasted waitress, who stood stock-still for another full moment before the words registered and she nodded, grabbing the empty bottle on her way back.

“I can’t believe it worked,” Dick reached to cup Wally’s cheek and push his head upright, then forgot to retrieve his hand. “You’re lucky you didn’t throw up, idiot.”

Stop looking at me like that. It made his chest feel weird and tight and Dick had no clue what he was supposed to with that other than suffocate and shit Wally was a pretty drunk. …Maybe he should keep his opinions to himself, considering what it tookfor a speedster to get drunk.

Wally had done this before with mixed results—chugged as much alcohol as he could as quickly as he could—but today was the first time he’d tried it while starving after an intense mission when he was already feeling high for other reasons, and it was working like gangbusters. It felt great. It wasn’t going to last long, but it felt great.

Shelly returned with their massive order, piled high on a cart because there was no way one table could fit it all, and another bottle that she set down with a curious glance at the arm Dick was quickly recovering. It was pointless, though. Even if she hadn’t seen them while walking over, the way Wally was looking at him—emphasis on the was, because the arrival of food distracted the redhead immediately—gave everything away. The woman gave Dick a close-lipped smile as his best friend watched the cart with… pretty much the same eyes he’d given Dick earlier in the alley.

That wasn’t disturbing at all.

The cart ended up somewhat of a fire hazard, blocking their exit from the booth, but neither of them particularly cared, and Shelly only stopped long enough to ask if they needed anything else. By the time she was gone again, Dick could swear Wally was drooling.

Wally registered slight regret at the chill of Dick’s withdrawn hand, but the empty space in his chest was quickly filled with, hell yeah, the ribs on his plate. The pile of food listed to one side as he alternately ate with his right hand and retrieved more with his left, always stopping for an inefficient glance at Dick between bites, who was still sitting with the weirdest look of awe on his face, just barely touching what little food he had on his plate. 

Wally frowned. Was Dick being too still? Had he dropped into hyperspeed without realizing it? He let the fork in his hand fall to the table as an experiment; it seemed to fall normally. 

"Dude," he whispered. "You haven’t touched your food." Wally raised an eyebrow in an attempt to be sexy that dissolved into a giggle. "Can I offer shome assishtance?”

Before Dick could even answer, Wally was ducking under the table and squirming out on Dick’s side, trying not to knee him in the crotch.

"Shit, I’m stuck," he pouted, one shoulder and his head sticking out from beneath the table and thank god it would be another five minutes before the buzz wore off and the embarrassment set in. "I can’t go around," he offered in pointless explanation, nodding toward the cart blocking the booth.

Dick rolled his eyes and hooked a hand under Wally’s elbow, and Wally wiggled in beside him on the seat, grinning broadly and throwing his near arm over Dick’s shoulders. He let his head rest on Dick’s jacket for a minute before gathering himself together and scooping up an oyster in a half shell. 

The alcohol was already burning off, but he’d wanted to do this anyway. 

"Oyster?" he offered. 

Dick couldn’t begrudge the oyster. Food was the only way Wally knew to be seductive, after all, and offering to share was… Okay so Dick might be laughing a little, but he still slipped an arm around Wally’s waist and opened his mouth, not particularly caring who got cavities from watching them, including himself. It was the first time in months that he’d had a full appetite; he could afford to be spoiled.

A mouthful of oyster probably didn’t look very good, but Wally was inebriated anyway, so Dick dropped his head onto his best friend’s shoulder with a moan of pleasure, leaning fully into him and savoring the bite.

“Shrimp!” he chirped as ‘next!’ and Wally obediently held one up to his mouth. The fact that his lips closed around Wally’s fingers as well as the shrimp was… an accident.

Thank god they got the corner booth. They could probably get away with a good makeout session here—Robin noted the long tablecloths and the cart mostly blocking them from sight and changed the ‘makeout’ to ‘blowjob’—so they should probably come back in a few weeks. Barbeque was, as Wally was proving, not exactly romantic, but a good BJ could make anything romantic. Discretion was a wonderful thing. Dick’s hand was halfway up the back of Wally’s sweater and no one was any wiser.

Lechery aside, though. Dick definitely wouldn’t mind another date in the future.

“Hey,” he started curiously, dipping the tips of his fingers just past the hem of Wally’s jeans. A week after getting it, he was pretty sure the tattoo was perfect, but a week from now it would probably be gone. It was such a pity he didn’t get to see it. “It healed right, yeah? No complications?”

Wally clapped his hands together in realization: “Yeah! It stopped bleeding like the day before yesterday, but I couldn’t take good pictures of it to show you!” 

The slight sloppiness to his movements and exuberance as he turned away to start pulling his shirt up his back—and maybe even accidentally off—betrayed his remnant intoxication, and when Dick grabbed at the hem of his shirt hovering around his shoulder blades, he glanced back meekly. 

“Whoa there, handsome,” Dick smiled indulgently, pulling the redhead’s shirt back down, though not before taking a long look at the gorgeous colors spreading across the sparsely freckled skin. “Lovely as that looks, let’s not get ourselves kicked out before we finish eating. I’d like to come back here someday, you know.”

I owe you an under-table blowjob, he didn’t say, although he’d rather say that than admit he was already a little attached to the place of their first date.

"I—I didn’t think that would work that well," Wally admitted, nodding to the empty bottle across from him. 

“And finally we know how to get you drunk for all of ten minutes.” The spark of realization and then sheepishness in Wally’s eyes suggested he’d overestimated the time by a good five minutes or so, but hey, at least now the experiments could stop and Roy wouldn’t be complaining about them draining his alcohol supply whenever they dropped by. Dick petted Wally’s hair condescendingly, leaning over to steal a chaste kiss. “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”

Wally snorted as he settled back in next to Dick, “Yeah, I guess we found the recipe.” Still a little woozy, he shoveled in a couple more bites of chicken and even some of the salad with one hand, and picked up the beer with the other. “Maybe it’s something in the hops.”

Or maybe it was the fight. Or maybe it’s because I’m in love with you today.

He bit his tongue on that last one, burying himself in another helping of shrimp and another burger,occasionally feeding Dick and laughing as the buzz wore away, until all that was left was the plate of oysters in the middle of the table. 

He offered his boyfriend another one: ”You know, I wonder if the oyster thing is true. About them being aphrodisiacs.” Gulping down the last one, he pushed the plate away and stretched an arm around Dick. “So what do you want to do now?” 

“Hmm.” Dick blamed the oysters for the detour his thoughts seemed to be taking every few seconds, and honestly he might pay Black Canary a visit just because it was not okay to appreciate the complete lack of Kid Flash’s table manners. He signaled Shelly for their check. “I wanted to go see Pacific Rim, but.”

More people.

They didn’t watch movies very quietly. Dick tended to whoop at all the big explosions and Wally laughed too loud, and sometimes they started dissecting action moves right in the middle of the theater, and no one would ever forget the time the whole team got thrown out because Robin and Conner started arguing about who would win in a fight between Batman and Superman and then decided that the best way to figure it out was to go against each other, right then and there.

Kaldur had looked so harassed. Robin still felt a little bad about that.

They could just watch it in Bruce Wayne’s state of the art entertainment room in the privacy of the manor, where it wouldn’t matter if Dick tackled Wally to the ground or started a tickle war in the middle of the movie. Besides, this movie was supposed to be good, and Dick was so… distracted tonight.

“We could skip it and go back to your place if you want,” he couldn’t quite keep the hopeful note out of his voice. They could head back to the manor too, but Wally’s house was empty and Dick still felt weird kissing anyone in front of Alfred. It was just. Alfred. “Hang out. I can kick your ass at Skyrim.”

"Yes!" Wally said, maybe a little too eagerly, because seriously sitting in a dark room for two more hours with Dick right there would driven him insane. Romcoms lie, and movies are actually really shitty places to make out in unless it was totally empty, and these days why would you pay ten bucks a pop for the privilege of getting popcorn chucked at your head? 

"Let’s do that," he continued, gathering up his coat as the waitress cleared the table, and, as Dick left an extremely generous tip on the table along with the cash for the meal (how many hundreds did he have on him?) he tugged Dick’s hand away and practically dragged him out the door.

Outside, he tried to slow down a little: he was a little unsure exactly what Dick meant by “hang out,” whether or not his earlier comment on the rooftop still held, because his tone now sort of said “just hang out.” Which, okay, sure. Either way, the “rim” jokes that sprang unbidden to his mind were totally inappropriate. 

Dick bought them two tickets home, and Wally fed their tickets through the turnstyle; it objected that he tried to pull the two of them through as a unit, but still they made it on time to the next train to the zeta beam.  

ROB: Did yuo not like the d wally

“D,” huh? Wally’s tongue darted over his lips before texting back.

KF: if by d u mean donut then yeah give it 2 me bby

A second later, he followed up.

KF: what happened?

KF: and what the hell does Alfred have you on and is it legal in all 50 states

But apparently Dick wasn’t interested or cognizant enough to fill in the blanks.

ROB:I meant me!

ROB: I gave you the d wally apperciaet it

ROB:I dont give everyone the d yu o know

ROB: I knew you loved donuts more tha me

Snuggling back under his blankets, Wally started to really get into it.

KF: i dunno dude they do keep me warm at night

KF: they fit juuuuuuuuust right

KF: soft and creamy and gooey

KF: like apple pie

Wait, what was that one twisty kind called again? Oh, right.

KF: *gasp* Crueller, icing doesn’t go there

KF: oh, oh Boston Creme-san! Be gentle!

Wally snickered as he hit the send button, but his phone was already glowing with a text he had received in the meantime.

ROB: I coudl keep you warm a t night

Oh. That was actually really … he smiled. Hmm. The donuts were probably not the best uhm … He hastily started on a better reply.

In Gotham, Dick giggled quietly at Wally’s oh, oh Boston Creme-san! Be gentle!, his injured fingers clumsier than usual but still quick as he shot off a series of new messages.

ROB: Say i t again. Day my name. Youre tooo cute when yuore moaning it out like htat

ROB: Stop squirming. If we keep up like this, the chococolate will get everywhere.

ROB: Ohhh. You look like you enjoy eating me. Swalllowing me down like that. Yuo lok so hot. Am i too big for you, wallly-kun? Am i fillling you upp

ROB: ?

Wally hadn’t even typed three letters of a better reply when his phone lit up in quick succession. Oh my god, Dick, what kind of porn have you been watching? He chuckled. Are these donuts gonna grow tentacles or something? But it looked like Dick hadn’t expected a nicer answer or was too drugged to notice or care, sooooo … This was too easy.

KF: Oh Mr. Boston, i want all of ur sweet sweetness

KF: u live up to your name, Creme-san, so much inside of u

KF: dude u feel so good in my mouth!

Dick was on a roll now.

ROB: Oh, you swalllowed all the filling. How do i taste wally

ROB: Kun?

His phone lit up with a late text, and Dick paused in typing out his next lewd message.

KF: … but seriously dude you are HIGH. u ok? what happened?

Aw. Serious question. Ruin my fun, why don’t you?

Heaving a sigh, he started rolling onto his stomach, but his side protested immediately. Looks like it was going to get attention one way or another.

ROB: Im fine. Jsut got stabbbed. Went rihgt through th kevlar.

ROB: Skay. Nothing big. I thnk Alf gave me the strrong stuff just to make sure I dont try goin g out on patrol again tonight. Makes me HIIIIIGH, but it goes throuhg my system pretty quick.

Stabbed? Wally frowned. It happened way more often than he’d like, and it still seemed like kind of a big deal.

KF: stabbed???? dude no *wonder*

Blood loss could be half of Dick’s high-ness.

KF: fuuu what happened? can you even remember what happened? haha with everything you’re on

Thank god Dick couldn’t go out on patrol again.

Dick sighed. Wally worried too much. He reached around—ow, wrong side—to fluff up his pillows and slide himself up against them, because the drugs were just making him entertaining, not sleepy.

ROB: Im high, wally. I dont have

ROB: I frgot the word

Okay, so he might have selective amnesia. Amnesia!

ROB: Amensia. I dont have anamnesia.

ROB: Was stopping a street brawl. There wa s just a lot of thugs. Shoudlnvte let my guard down. Its fiiiiiine. Might not even scar.

That wasn’t even a lie. There was still a 10% chance that it actually wouldn’t scar. His phone buzzed with a new message, and Dick grinned as he read it.

KF: those drugs better not go through you *too* fast. don’t make me come and hold you down.

As if you could. Dick was an escape artist, hello?

ROB: Why Mr. West, dont tell me youd take advantage of an invalid.

Pfft. "Forgot the word amnesia." Wally snickered to himself. It wasn’t really like Dick to get caught by surprise, but it happened, and if it was a giant brawl … His screen lit up again.

KF: take advantage? why, I *never*! My ONLY concern would be your *safety*

He cleared his throat self-consciously, trying and failing to chase away the all-too enticing thoughts of Dick s-squirming underneath him with thoughts of how he actually was wanting donuts now.

Dick snorted. ‘Safety’ my ass. That was actually a good response, so he sent it.

ROB: Safety my ass.

Wait.

ROB: That wasnt an innuendo.

This was good. Texting was helping his mind push past the morphine, forcing coordination and collection of thought. Dick put his phone down on his lap—there would probably be a message or two from Wally by the time he picked it back up—and closed his eyes.

Zero.

One.

One.

Two.

Three.

Five.

Eight.

Thirteen.

He didn’t enjoy being doped up, no matter how entertaining it made him to his teammates. His body refused to move the way he wanted it to and it left him feeling more vulnerable than he’d ever admit to being. This was almost as useful as thinking of Alfred in order to avoid sprouting a tent in awkward situations, and it was the next best thing to playing the piano—and less dangerous than walking a balance beam—to clear his brain.

Twenty-one.

Thirty-four.

Fifty-five.

Eighty-nine.

Like it or not, Robin was in no condition to sit up and play the grand piano in the foyer right now, and his laptop was on his desk. Too far away for the effort and pain.

One forty-four.

Two thirty-three.

Three seventy-seven.

Six ten…

ROB: Safety my ass.

ROB: That wasnt an innuendo.

Wally snickered as his phone lit up.

KF: awww, why not?

He really should let Dick sleep the meds and the pain off, but … he was feeling selfish and lonely and hungry and couldn’t sleep now, so. Surely Dick would just nod off on his own when he needed to. Besides he couldn’t resist:

KF: Me and Boston Creme-san are disappointed

Dick rolled his eyes, half in amusement and half in indignation.

ROB: *le gasp* You… you have another Boston Crème with you?

Oh, good. He was finally coherent. A few pushes and pulls later, he was sitting cross-legged against his pillows, too-heavy head lolling on them as he typed without bothering to look.

ROB: How could you do that to me?

ROB: Am I not enough for you, Wally? Don’t you love me anymore?

KF: I can’t help that Boston Creme-san finds me so irresistible.

Wally paused, trying to come up with the best way to phrase the next part.

KF: You’re worth more than 1000 Boston Cremes to me, Dick-chan, and I am saving the very *best* parts of the Wallman only for you.

But seriously, he was going to have to run out to the 24-hour Happy Donuts on Main because all this talk of donuts …

KF: in the meantime … 3some?

Staring at the text for several minutes didn’t seem to alleviate his distaste for ‘Dick-chan’, so Dick typed in—

ROB: I know I’M high. YOU’RE not high. You can’t GET high.

ROB: Are you sure you’re not high too?

Threesome. With a donut.

Wait a second.

ROB: …You got donuts, didn’t you.

Wally paused, cash in hand at Happy Donuts as the haggard all night-shift employee bustled around to get the two dozen donuts—half-off—for Kid Flash. Being a superhero had it’s perks. But technically they were over there and not in his hands soooo …

KF: nooooo what makes you say that

He frowned.

KF: and I’m not high, I’m *hungry*

Small but important difference! Wally huffed as he took the bag and dropped a $10 tip on the counter and raced back home, a Boston Creme already between his teeth. He skidded to a stop at a stop light to add as an afterthought:

KF: and horny, no thanks to *you*

ROB: You’re horny and I had nothing to do with it? Should I be jealous of Boston Crème-san?

To be fair, Wally wasn’t the only one who was hungry. The initial pain had made it near-impossible for Dick to swallow his usual after-patrol snack, but with the painkillers taking the edge off, his stomach was starting to protest the emptiness.

He navigated the hall in the dark, making his way to the fridge to find the sandwich Alfred had made him, replaced by Cocoa Puffs in the aftermath of his injury—Alfred always spoiled him when he was hurt—replaced with plain chocolate milk—still a reward—when Dick couldn’t bring himself to eat the cereal.

With the pain low, Dick couldn’t justify binging on sugar right now. The egg sandwich would have to do. Loading the sandwich onto a plate and putting it in the microwave, Dick checked his phone. No reply yet. Which could only mean that Wally was still running home from his donut stop.

ROB: Pity, really. Your Boston Crème doesn’t know the tricks I do.

By the time Wally made it the rest of the way home, his phone had buzzed twice. He breezed up the stairs, stripping out of his uniform and dusting the powdered sugar off his face before flopping down onto bed shirtless and in pajama pants to reply. He made a face at the screen. Dude, what? No—“no thanks” for making me horn—

Actually, Dick was probably just fucking with him. Fine.

KF: I dunno, maybe you should be - depends on your tricks, I guess, circus boy. ;)

Hehehe. Wally wiggled down into the covers of his boyhood home while he visited his parents for the weekend and pulled out his latest Feynman book while he waited for Dick’s “tricks.”

Dick had barely gotten a bite into his sandwich when his phone lit up on his desk. Thank god Elinore wasn’t here tonight; or she’d have tossed the phone against the wall first chance she got. This late night texting probably messed with her beauty sleep.

Depends on my—

Wally wasn’t getting any that easy.

ROB: You know me.

ROB: Guess my tricks.

“Guess”?

Really? Wally … genuinely had no idea where to start. What did Dick even categorize as a “trick” in this sense? So he just started throwing stuff out.

KF: uh … can you balance on a ball?

KF: can youuuuuuuuuu … spin plates?

Okay one for real.

KF: can you fold your legs behind your head?

KF: c’mon dude I don’t even know what you mean. Throw me a bone.

Heh. Now that he thought about it--

KF: CAN you throw me a bone?

Huffing a laugh around a mouthful of eggs and bread, Dick sank into his pillows.

ROB: I can do all of that.

Simple. Entirely unsubtle.

Even though he hadn’t actually tried spinning plates since he was, what, nine? He’d broken an expensive china set and Alfred had banned him from it, and little Dick Grayson had actually listened because at that point he was still a little worried about being thrown out if he didn’t follow the rules.

ROB: Can’t everyone?

KF: *snort* I can’t

ROB:Then I don’t suppose you can give me a blowjob while you fuck me either, huh?

… Wally scrambled to retrieve his phone from the floor while he tried and mostly failed to swallow his last bite of donut. He was coughing so hard his eyes were watering, but he managed to fumble out a text, shifting his boxers into a more comfortable position, since the fit had gotten suddenly awkward.

KF: so i thnik i jsut go t that bone u threw

Dick grinned. The joy was in the little victories.

ROB: Oh, really?

ROB: Which part helped you get it?

ROB: The part that says I can do it, or the part that says I could be doing it to you?

KF: */yes/*

Wally palmed himself through the thin fabric of this flannel pajamas, letting his eyes drift closed. Geeze, six years of friendship—more than 2000 days of texts—but this was … a first. He knitted his brows; he didn’t even know what Dick looked like right now.

Welp. Best to start with the basics, cheesy and cliche though they may be.

KF: so what are you wearing?

Oh.

Dick swallowed involuntarily, suddenly acutely aware of where this was going. But he’d started it, even though he didn’t really have an endgame in mind, and he couldn’t back out now. If the flush he could feel spreading down from his cheeks straight to his… er.

Well.

If that was any indication, he didn’t want to back out now.

ROB: Boxers and bandages.

It was only after he hit ‘send’ that he realizes that bandages weren’t exactly sexy, so he quickly added a distraction.

ROB: You?

Wally’s phone lit up.

And Dick was almost naked.

Which made sense, since clothes get in the way of injuries; they tangle and pinch. But Dick was almost naked, and Wally would be lying if he hadn’t developed A Thing for bandages and scars in his job over the last six years.

His cock twitched and his hands shook a little as he replied:

KF: my blue flannel pjs, no shirt.

He stalled, trying to come up with something else. This felt more awkward than the times he’d done it before. Maybe because it was just another in a long line of “shouldn’t”s with his best friend, but … probably just that he didn’t really know what Dick or maybe just dudes in general liked?

Uhm.

KF: would you like me to take them off?

Dick swallowed. Yes, please, take them off and send me a picture.

But that would be too easy.

Dick set his empty plate and glass on the bedside table, and when he settled down on his bed, legs stretched in front of him, he could almost imagine Wally… right… there…

With him.

ROB: Not yet.

Giving direction, though, was something he could do. It didn’t even require that much higher brain function. Dick had a feeling he wasn’t going to have higher brain function for much longer.

ROB: Are you—

His cock was already half-hard, and Dick tightened his grip on his phone with both hands to keep from giving in.

ROB: Are you touching yourself?

Yes.

Wally glanced down that the hand half-wrapped around himself, squeezing through his pajama pants and boxers, but he resisted the urge to slip his hand beneath them. He wanted to last.

KF: yeah. over my pants, he finally texted.

He closed his eyes, wishing it was Dick there touching him, palm rubbing firmly over the flannel, over him - though that might throw a wrench in the “lasting” part. He blinked that thought away.

KF: … are you?

The answer was no, so Dick avoided the question entirely.

ROB: Wanna know what I’d do if I were there?

KF: here? like next to me on my bed at my house?

Wally wasn’t sure if he’d mentioned he was at home in Central for the night watching the house because his parents had gone out of town. … he also refrained from mentioning the half-dozen remaining donuts that were apparently joining them on the bed. The thought of Dick there on the bed, over him, sent warmth through his body, and he arranged his pillows behind and beside him so that he could text more comfortably.

Dick rolled his eyes. Wally had called him to let him know he would be in Central for the weekend in case something came up, which saved Robin the time of tracking him down.

Duh, brainiac. Where else?

His phone buzzed again, lighting up with a second question that he could answer without pushing random buttons to see which one was red.

KF: sooooooo do i get a kiss?

ROB: Maybe.

It was a good thing that Wally was back home, and—Dick didn’t try to hide his grin, alone in his room—that his parents were out.

ROB: Maybe I’d straddle your waist and lean over you and kiss you stupid.

ROB: Maybe I’d push you into your blue and white pillows as I ravage your mouth.

ROB: Maybe I’d tangle my fingers in your hair because I love the sounds you make when I do that.

ROB: Maybe I’d tell you to stop holding back and be louder for me.

Wally could barely control the shudder rolling down his spine as his phone lit up four times in succession. Maybe. He shut his eyes tight against the image of Dick over him, weight on his palms on Wally’s shoulders, tongues tracing each other’s lips, filled with the taste of Dick, the texture of his fingers on his collarbone, the smell of his honey shampoo … Wally carefully squeezed himself so this didn’t end for him too soon.

KF: “Maybe,” huh?

KF: Is this a choose your own adventure?

Another squeeze as he curled around his phone, grinning.

KF: if so, I choose b

They knew more about each other than anyone else in the world, but Dick didn’t know a whole lot—more like nothing—about what Wally liked in bed. So really, it wasn’t cheating if he applied a bit of analysis to what sort of wording Wally seemed to prefer and drew conclusions from that.

Option B meant that he wasn’t opposed to Dick taking charge—at least this time—which was perfectly fine with him.

ROB: We can work with that.

ROB: I could definitely grind down on you while sucking on your tongue.

A shudder ran through him at the thought of Dick above him—on him—pressing him into the bed covers—hips matched, hot warm lips around his tongue—christ, another firm, still squeeze, a little harder. Eyes closed, a moment to breathe. What would he do next?

Grab Dick by the hipbones, wrap his fingers tightly into … whoa Dick has hipbones—like not-girl hipbones. Probably not that different though, right?

He rolled over onto his stomach, propped up onto his elbows, the light pressure against his cock keeping him just uncomfortable enough to last.

KF: I’d grab your hips, hold you down tight against me, arch up—

Wally’s fingers paused a moment as he flashbacked to the last time they’d been … close like this. Dick’s birthday party. And honestly when they’d got to this point, Dick had … well, stopped.

Hmm. He flopped back against the bed for a minute, wondering if that reply would make Dick uncomfortable again. Sexting was so removed; they were far apart, but still …

Or maybe it would be better this way; not so … in their faces, so to speak. They could get used to what it would be like. But on the other hand, Wally wouldn’t be able to tell, really. Dick had pressed on that day; he hadn’t stop-stopped, but he was there in person to tell that it really wasn’t as okay … or it didn’t seem like it. He wrinkled his brow. Stopping had been the right decision then, right? Should he have let Dick try to get over it then? Or … like, Dick wanted to get over it, right?

He shook his head. Of course he did. But would he tell Wally if it made him feel weird now?

For the first time that night, Wally had to admit that even if they did keep going, he wasn’t totally sure what to even say past the make-out stage. Was he going to sext giving Dick a blowjob or vice-versa? He hadn’t really paid attention to how to give a blowjob in all his years of porn consumption. Were they going to have actual sex, which, honestly, he was a little fuzzy on the details in general, much less knowing what Dick liked.

He himself could come from, hell, almost anything at this point—the thought of Dick’s hands in his hair, oh god, down his boxers—breathe, West—but he was pretty sure Dick didn’t have his … metabolism. He’d almost definitely need more than a virtual handjob, right?

… fuck, what if he faked it?

Wow, nothing would feel worse. Especially from a guy. Annnnnnd now that he thought that, he knew he’d wonder.

And Dick was high.

He propped himself up on his elbow and stared at the half-written text. Not too much time had past; he’d felt himself fall into overdrive somewhere around remembering Dick’s birthday, and a few deep breaths brought him into slow-time. ….. where apparently his boner had gone a while before.

At least he’d last longer.

How the hell do I …?

Staring miserably at the phone, he deleted what he’d written. He tried to remember what had definitely been okay the last time they did this. The seconds ticked by.

KF: I’d wrap one hand in your hair and kiss you harder, and run my other thumb over your nipple.

Send.

Was that too clinical? Cheeks glowing red in embarrassment, Wally dropped face first into his pillow. How freaking girly was it to want “to do this in person first”? He groaned and dragged himself out of bed and over to his desktop. If they were going to do this, he at least should know how to do it well.

Google: How to give a good blowjob.

Should that be “good gay blowjob”?

Nah. This should be fine.

He tapped enter and curled his feet around the chairlegs as he waited for his phone to light up again.

Dick waited expectantly for a moment, then a few seconds.

Then it was a minute, and he was wondering exactly what Wally was writing that could take so long. The possibilities were endless, and Dick finally dared to sneak a hand past the hem of his boxers, cock twitching against his palm as it slid over the foreskin to cup over the head. Eyes fluttering shut, it wasn’t hard to imagine the last time they’d made out on a bed, his bed, Wally’s tongue tracing his lips, the ziiiiip of his hoodie falling open, hot, burning fingers pressing into his nipples and oh, he wanted to hear that gasp again, wanted to hear Wally moan his name in a way he’d never heard before and hadn’t heard since, know that it was him, and that it would only be him, for a very long time.

Robin’s breath stuttered, and he checked his phone again for something a little more… present to fuel his fantasies.

Nothing.

Dick pulled out his hand, blinking through the arousal into confusion.

ROB: Wally?

He didn’t send it, mind whirring as he cleared the draft and typed in his next instinct.

ROB: Did I do something wrong?

Delete.

That was likely to get him—possibly false—reassurances and avoidance. Wally was good at denial on the best of days, but he was a terrible liar.

Are you okay?

If Dick could just see him he’d be able to tell if something was wrong, probably even figure out what it was, except he wasn’t there and maybe he had crossed a line because they hadn’t exactly talked about this. And if they could, they never would, either.

They both liked to talk a lot, but Wally veered far from anything related to feelings, and Dick could never actually say what he meant. So they’d learned to read each other’s eyes and bodies and voices better than their words, but none of that was available now.

Wally knew Dick would never want to make him uncomfortable, didn’t he? He could say no to anything, anytime, and Dick would stop. Immediately. Wally had stopped for Dick before and Dick would always do the same for him. Wally knew that. He had to.

…Right?

Robin was seriously considering throwing on some clothes and zeta-ing over to Wally’s place by the time his phone finally buzzed with a new message.

KF: I’d wrap one hand in your hair and kiss you harder, and run my other thumb over your nipple.

Even the coincidence of Wally’s text matching his fantasy wasn’t enough to keep the realization from twisting his gut because—No.

Wally apparently didn’t know that.

Twenty minutes. That’s how long it would take for Dick to wriggle into a pair of pants, force his arms high enough to put them through a shirt, zeta beam to Central, and walk to his boyfriend’s house. Maybe thirty if he had to stop for a breather. He could just go over and make sure that Wally was alright, hear it in his voice, kiss him in person and tell him it was okay to stop.

His phone glowed in his hand as he scrolled over the texts again, looking for an indication where there was none.

Or he could do what normal people without access to teleportation devices did—

He pressed the green button before he could change his mind.

—and call.

Wally hmmed thoughtfully. Ice was always fun. He clicked through a RedBook article on how to give a good blowjob, trying hard not to think about how he once saw his mom with a copy of the magazine. It wasn’t half bad, and maybe had some things he’d like to … try. An ice cube wouldn’t last all that long in his unusually warm -

Ring.

Hand frozen on his mouse, Wally stared at his glowing phone with a pang of panic. Dick was calling, and he couldn’t close his browser fast enough. Dick can’t see you, idiot. ...Probably.

His hand was vibrating with anxiety as he picked up the phone and stared at the screen with Rob’s name on it. He was having a hard time remembering what exactly he’d said in the last text. Had he accidentally sent the earlier one? Was what he said too much? Did he take too long?

Ring.

He knew that if he answered he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of playing off his anxieties over voice. Maybe I should have told him I was … "preoccupied" to explain why I took so long. The insinuation was totally partially true, probably enough to obscure the real preoccupations that ate up that time.

But the fact of the matter was he was also relieved.

He wanted to hear Dick’s voice.

Ring.

He picked up on the third ring, and Dick released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shoulders relaxing simply at the sound of his voice. God, he hoped Wally didn’t find out exactly how much of a sap he was. There were several things he wanted to say, even more that he wanted to express, but what came out was a quiet, relieved, and terribly shy— “Hi.”

"Hey."

It wasn’t often that Dick failed to find the right words to say, but he was starting to realize that this was a growing problem when it came to Wally. Now that they were actually talking, he was completely tongue-tied.

“Hi,” he repeated, wincing at his own feeble tone. Wally sounded so… unsure. “I just… you know.”

Unless Wally was a mind reader with a range three states wide, that was not going to get him anywhere. And ‘I just wanted to hear your voice’ wasn’t really something he wanted to say out loud. Too emotionally compromising.

Little embarrassing.

Should probably be reserved for some inevitable moment between life and death when Wally’s voice was the only thing he could hold onto.

…Something along those lines.

He should probably stop rambling in his head and tell Wally why he called.

“My stitches are pulling.” Wow. Totally not what he’d wanted to say. “Alfred would probably tell you it’s because I can’t hold still.”

Carefully, Dick maneuvered himself down from the pillows, lying down on his uninjured side. Just thinking about Wally was enough to power him to half-mast, but right now his passing arousal wasn’t anything he needed or even wanted to pay attention to.

Phone nestled between his ear and a pillow, Robin fiddled with his blanket.

“But I know my stitches, and they never fail to give me trouble when Bats is refusing medical treatment after a bad night out or working on a hard case and not letting me help. Joker’s usually involved.” His stitches had nothing to do with it, but Dick wasn’t kidding about being able to tell when Bruce was particularly… bothered. There was no reason that shouldn’t apply to another important person in his life.

He wished Wally were here.

“My stitches told me to call you.” His nail caught on a loose string. “You okay, KF?”

Wally wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it really wasn’t a status report on Dick’s stitches. He was worried that they’d have to cut everything off because Dick thought Batman was in trouble, but that wasn’t it either.”

Oh. Psychic stitches. Okay. He really shouldn’t be wondering if Dick was actually serious or not.

Regardless, the answer came out automatically, like it had a million times before, to Dick, to Artemis, to Barry, to his parents: “Whaaat? Okay? Pfft. Of course I’m okay. What’s there to not be okay about?”

Normally this would be quickly followed up by a change in subject, or at least a return to whatever they were doing, but tonight the excuse felt particularly flat as he tried and failed to think of something other than the source of his anxiety:

"So your stiches itch, huh?" was a buzz kill in more ways than one; "Too bad Halo 5 is on the Xbox One" seemed too off topic for once; "so how do you feel about ice?" ….

… well that might work.

But the silence was getting awkward.

“Huh,” Dick said noncommittally, a grin ghosting across his lips at the familiarity of the denial. At least Wally sounded like himself. “Well, stitches aside—” He was going to regret the stitches comment in the morning, he just knew it. “—point is that I called you because I thought you seemed a little… off.”

So to speak. He grinned at the unspoken little joke.

“So either you’re not telling me something, or I’m wrong.” Driving his focus into the string he was diligently working out of his bedspread, Robin tried not to slur his words, excess energy and drugs combining working together to make him voice whatever came to mind unfiltered. “And we both know that I don’t do ‘wrong’.”

This would probably be a lot easier if he could figure out the problem on his own. Maybe he should go over to Wally’s house. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that painkillers tended to leave him feeling extremely cuddly in a manor with only one cuddler, of course.

His arms itched with emptiness, so Dick grabbed a pillow to squeeze the feathers out of.

“Now that we’re on the same page, let me tell you what’s going to happen.” Wally was still silent, which was fine. “I’m going to ask again, ‘is something wrong?’ Whereupon you will reply with, ‘yes, Dick, something is wrong. Something about what we were doing before’—and what we were doing before was sexting—‘is bothering me. And as, despite all appearances to the contrary, I know that you are not psychic, and therefore do not know exactly what is bothering me, I am going to tell you what is bothering me, because we have been best friends for six years, and I know that I can tell you anything.’

Then I’m going to say, ‘of course my dear best friend of six long years, you can tell me anything you want because we have faced death together several times during our acquaintance, and I have been in your room and your underwear and there is nothing you can say anymore that can possibly scare me off, and you should know that no matter what you tell me I will only laugh at you a little, and that too only because you were actually worried about talking to me.’”

I love you, but we’re best friends first. Remember that, KF.

“And after that, you will tell me what is bothering you in painstaking detail, so we can figure out how to make it stop bothering you.” He paused. “Or, you know, you could just skip to the end where you tell me everything. Would probably save time and spare you the trouble you’ll get into when I have proof that you can’t recite all that back to me verbatim.”

Hopefully he’d get a little more out of Wally this time round.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?”

If not, he was getting out of bed and heading straight for Central.

“Hi, Wally. Is something wrong?”

Wally’s lip quirked up at Dick’s very tongue-in-cheek lecture. He ended up on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow, muffling his almost laughter as Dick wound down.

Ass.

Ass who knew him too well.

Welp.

He rolled over with a huge sigh-groan into the phone, because he honestly wasn’t sure if something actually was wrong, and if it were, he didn’t know what it was.

"Nothi — " he began, but no. That was useless. “I dunno,” he landed on with a sigh, in a tone that at least clearly admitted that something was going on.

He didn’t know, and the not knowing really was the heart of his issues. Would Dick like the stuff he mentioned doing? Would he tell him if he didn’t? Would he tell him if it, you know, reminded him of … stuff? He didn’t know, and he wouldn’t be able to tell, not really. Not for sure.

Wally didn’t like not knowing things. He didn't like things that were out of his control.

"I dunno, dude," he started again, trying not to feel too embarrassed by how unbelievably sappy he was going to sound.

If he was going to sext Dick, he didn’t like not actually knowing what the weight of Dick above him would feel like as he ground down on him.

"I just, kinda wonder, like …"

He didn’t like not knowing what Dick tasted like as he sucked his tongue into his mouth like that.

"… wouldn’t it be kinda a better idea to …"

And he didn’t know. He didn’t know well enough. Not like this, not yet. Not how Dick smelled, how he sounded, the twist of his muscles on top of him, the feel of his hands in places where they haven’t …

"… you know …"

… the look on his face when he ...

"… do this in person uhm, first?"

… his warmth, his closeness afterwards.

He just really didn’t like not knowing.

Dick's first instinct was to respond with a childish, defensive, “You started it.”—because Dick had been joking and Wally was the one who made it serious and it wasn’t his fault this time, right?—but he bit it back and opened his mouth to say that it was alright; he understood.

What came out instead was a startled, absolutely mortifying, “You want to do this in person?”

Which was stupid; of course Wally wanted to do this, he wanted to do this in person, probably after the second date at the very least, and Dick curled in on himself in sudden realization, ignoring the stinging at his side because oh god he hadn’t even thought about taking Wally out on an official date… or, okay, he’d thought about it, but Wally never said anything, and he’d just assumed that unofficial outings together—things that Dick considered dates—would be enough.

“I mean,” he scrambled, falling short. What did he mean? That he wasn’t expecting to do this at all? “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s really not, I just…” Dick trailed off uncomfortably, twirling the piece of thread from his bedspread around his fingers. “I wasn’t really thinking anything when I said that. Can I start over?”

There was a lot of starting over going on tonight.

He’d promised to laugh, but he… couldn’t. Wally was waiting on the other end of the line, and Dick had more important things to do right now.

Wally stood dumbfounded at Dick’s shocked tone. Uhm, of course he did—did Dick not want to? What did Dick think he was talking about? Did he think Wally meant full-on sex? That is, Wally wanted that, too—someday—but he hadn’t necessarily meant … there were a lot of grey areas.

… it makes you uncomfortable.

… you’d rather not do it in person, like ever.

… I’m not enough to patch up what came before.

“What I meant to say was,” Dick had barreled on. “Do you want to go out on a date with me?”

Wally had dropped into speed from embarrassment and anxiety, he was so busy filling in endings to that sentence, each more terrifying than the last, that he hardly noticed Dick’s question.

"Wait, what?"

Despite the nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach—butterflies my ass; there’s a fucking octopus in there—he couldn’t help half-giggling—and half-gasping, because stab wounds really fucking hurt—into the phone. Bewilderment suited Wally.

“A date,” he repeated patiently. “You know, dinner, movie, flowers? Pacific Rim is in theaters, and we both know a couple good places to eat in Manhattan. The flowers are kinda touch and go, but I could switch them out for chocolates instead.”

New York was close enough to Gotham that the added ‘Wayne’ on his credit card was recognizable but not a huge deal, and familiar enough to Dick that he could easily pick out a good restaurant alongside a quiet cinema with perpetually excellent seating.

Not to mention that two boys holding hands or kissing—wait, a traditional first date would bar kissing, wouldn’t it? Ugh—in public wouldn’t even warrant a second glance in that city.

Maybe this time Wally wouldn’t mind Dick slipping an arm around him as they walked.

…Or maybe he shouldn’t take the chance.

“How’s this evening?” he continued, not a little anxiously. “I could pick you up at seven?” Although just because Wally was housesitting for the weekend didn’t mean he didn’t already have plans for a Saturday night, so he added, “Unless you’d rather not. Which is totally cool too.”

It totally wasn’t cool, but Dick wasn’t about to tell him that. His clamped his mouth shut; it had betrayed him enough times for one night.

"Sure, of course." The words fell out of Wally’s mouth, even while he was nervously trying to backpedal; he’d sort of wanted the trip to Stanford he’d been planning to be their "first date."

But he hadn’t even nailed down a weekend to ask Dick to come to Stanford for the first time so that, when he got there, Wally could surprise him with a trip all over the Bay Area. And it would be sort of … telling if he turned Dick down and asked now.

It would — that was kind of a different scale, right? This was dinner and a movie. They’d done this a hundred times before. Besides, he could never turn down a chance to get chocolate. Or Pacific Rim. Though, of course, it would be … different this time. It would be Dinner and a Movie.

And honestly? Part of him just couldn’t wait.

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “It’s, uh … it’s a date, Dick.”

“Yeah,” Dick tried really hard not to make that a question, because Wally’d said yes, and he wasn’t about to give the redhead a chance to change his mind.

He said yes.

“It’s a date.”

Rolling onto his back again, Dick stared at his ceiling and tried to figure out if it would be awkward. They were best friends. Nothing had been awkward so far, but… everything had gone by in such a rush. They never got a chance to do normal stuff together. Their first confessions came at a time when they were both convinced they’d never see each other again, so when they did, everything was forgotten I the wake of Dick’s trauma and Wally’s comfort and a reunion after seven months of separation and neither of them knew how to bring this up again until the Vlatavan ball three months later.

And then came a period of trouble and trouble and more trouble in their respective cities for the rest of February and Dick was nearing the end of senior year and Wally had declared his two majors in college and then the redhead had to speed off to China for half of March and they didn’t get to talk about anything until Dick’s birthday. And ten days later was April Fool’s.

April 1st was really why Dick hadn’t thought of asking Wally out on an actual date until now. As far as he was concerned, their first date was already over. A picnic by the lake, sneaking around the Gotham Observatory… it hadn’t been official, but it was the best April Fool’s Dick had had in ten years. The only one he could remember being happy at.

Was that wrong?

He should have been sad, but instead for half the day he’d been content, and the other half he’d been happy, and he thought of the time spent with Wally that day as his first date with the speedster, and it wasn’t that the fact that his mom and dad were gone still didn’t upset him or even that he’d even stopped having the occasional nightmare, it was just—

Bruce had told him that it would get easier, for him.

Dick just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

Was nine years too soon?

He listened to his best friend breathe on the other end of the line.

“Wally?” he asked abruptly. “Is nine years too soon to get over your parents’ deaths?”

Wally was still so busy trying to figure out how to bring up the trip to Stanford that he almost missed Dick’s question.

That was kind of a curveball. Wally frowned; this was one area of Dick’s life he could only serve as a band-aid, and he honestly had no idea to answer that. His grandfather on his mom’s side had died when he was almost too young to remember; despite his almost daily brushes with the spectre of death, his life had been blessed with very few actual deaths.

His instinct was to say “no,” but what did he know?

"Uhm," he said softly, "I think this is a little above my paygrade, Dick. Maybe you could ask Black Canary about it?"

It is, isn’t it?

And the Worst Son Ever award goes to…

Dick laughed softly. “You’re my best friend, Kid Idiot. That makes you my personal therapist, too.”

And god knows I’m screwed up enough for you to need therapy after dealing with me.

“It’s okay.” Robin tugged at the loose thread again, twirling it around his finger and finally snapping it clear off the bedspread. “It was a rhetorical question anyway. I just don’t want to hang up and try to sleep.”

There were fifty thousand ways the next day could go wrong. He hadn’t even been sure Wally would agree to a date just a few days after their last disastrous outing, especially since Dick had yet to apologize.

He was hoping that his discretion tomorrow would make up for the lack of it at the tattoo parlor.

Plus he was really getting sick of the nightmares.

"Hey, no problem, man," Wally said, trying not to let the edge of exhaustion cut into his voice.

Wally felt horrible, but his lids were already slipped halfway over his eyes and his pillow was calling—loudly. Half-studied work sheets for midterms lay strewn about on his desk from the intense study session before Dick had called, and he had just dragged himself off his chair and under the covers after Dick had asked him out on the date.

Let’s face it, he wouldn’t be the best of listeners right now no matter what, but of course he wanted to try.

"What else is new?"

Dick could hear the slowness of Wally’s words and the slur of his s’s, and despite the valiant effort made at keeping up the conversation, it was a little obvious that Wally was falling asleep on him.

“You should sleep,” he said. Elinore would probably be up for snuggling with him tonight, as long as Robin was careful with his side. A small part of him wanted to ask Wally to not hang up, fall asleep and let the minutes pile up so that Dick could just clutch the phone to his ear and listen Wally’s deep, even breaths over the line when he inevitably succumbed to exhaustion and woke up terrified.

But that sounded a little creepy even to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

"Hmmm," Wally murmured, half asleep. "Maybe."

He rolled over and curled around a pillow, tucking his covers under on one side in a half cocoon. The phone jammed against his down-side ear so that he wouldn’t need to hold it, and a small smile ticked up the edges of his lips. “I need to get my beauty sleep so I can be ~pretty~ for you tomorrow, Dick.”

His breaths were already deepening; he was so comfortable; talking to Dick was so comfortable; getting to see him tomorrow was so comfortable in a ticklish sort of way.

"Mmkay," he was really drifting off now, "lovya," fell unbidden from his tongue, but he was too sleepy to consider the weightiness of his words.

Well fuck. Now there was something stuck in Dick's throat, and he couldn’t formulate a coherent enough sentence that wouldn’t give the walls in his room cavities.

“I’ve seen you run straight into a wall and get a nosebleed all over your face and down your suit, and there’s clearly something very wrong with me because for some unfathomable reason I still thought you were cute.” He was pretty sure Wally was already asleep, but if he didn’t say this he might say something undeniably sappy instead, and that just wouldn’t do. “I don’t think you need to worry about being pretty for an obviously biased basket case, but I love you too, jerk.”

Wally couldn’t remember the rules; Dick’s history; he could barely remember his own name. Needwashed over him,  and he slipped a thigh tight between Dick’s legs,  a desire to share  with Dick, this  high , to  show him this feeling, to get down on his  knees , the grit of the asphalt biting through his jeans, to hear Dick, until Dick’s fingers went tight in Wally’s hair and—

Oh god. Wally dropped Dick’s wrists and backed off, shame pulsing to his cheeks. He’d just pinned Dick against the wall and was about to force himself on him.

They weren’t even supposed to kiss.

And he definitely wasn’t supposed to want to—no—need to give Dick a blowjob. He’d always known it would be something he’d do, and probably eventually enjoy, but the fact that he’d been practically desperate to do it, to taste him, to feel him on his tongue …

Well. Wally couldn’t deny having an oral fixation. But.

And who knew if Dick was even comfortable with that?

He leaned over, panting hands braced on his knees, turning away from his boyfriend in embarrassment. “S-sorry,” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to—for trapping you.”

Glasses askew, Dick stared at his best friend in absolute disbelief for the moment it took for his brain to get back online enough for him to make sense of the words, and then he was just.

Annoyed.

“I’m not a freaking china doll, Wally,” his voice came out harsher than intended, but thoughts were too difficult to formulate. His body didn’t want him to think it wanted to move and Dick didn’t want to fight againthey hadn’t spoken in a two weeks because of that stupid day Wally decided to get the tattoo—what does it look like now he didn’t even know—he couldn’t—he wouldn’t go through that again.

Move, every instinct screamed at him, and Wally should have seen it coming, seen the hand that reached for his shoulder and the arm coming up to press against his throat as Dick pivoted on spot, threw his entire weight into slamming Wally against the wall, and if his head hit something hard, it was really his own fault. Sunglasses clattered to the ground, but Robin had other things to attend to.

You don’t get to look away from me.

“If you didn’t like that, maybe you’ll prefer this,” he tilted his head minutely, indicating their reversed position, eyes glittering in the near-dark of twilight. There was no one around, Wally had made the first move, and Dick was done letting him set the terms. Wally’s hands were free, so if didn’t want to do anything, he could use them. He could push Dick off, and Dick would allow it, but he wasn’t going to put up with this treatment any longer.

He was Robin. He was a survivor. He wasn’t made of glass, and if Wally couldn’t see that on his own, Dick would make him.

Anger. That was anger simmering in his veins, the flashflood temper he’d never learned to control and almost always came to regret.

So Dick poured the rage into his body, poured it into the kiss that was teeth and tongue and force, into the fingers gripping Wally’s hip hard enough to leave bruises through his jeans that would fade before they had time to settle, into the thigh shoved between long legs and rubbing up unforgivingly because this was suddenly a game of chicken, and Dick was done losing.

Oh god.

Wally arched helplessly against Dick, hands scrabbling for purchase against the wall, hips rolling over his thigh, and the pressure at Dick’s fingers ran straight to his cock, electric.

If he wasn’t hard before, he was so hard it hurt now. A soft moan escaped him —pleaseyes — when Dick broke the kiss to nip down his jaw, demanding better access to his neck, and the back of Wally’s head hit the bricks behind him in compliance.

Dick was already tugging on the hem of Wally’s sweater, rucking it up, hot, calloused palms massaging over Wally’s abs in rhythm with the sucking kisses over his neck, and Wally’s hips matched it, pulse for pulse.

When Dick didn’t even pause—relief, want, need overwhelmed Wally, and he hadn’t even known how worried he was that this wouldn’t work, that Dick wouldn’t actually want this, want to touch him like this, that he could give Dick something that wouldn’t just remind him of the past.  

He searched blindly for access to that stupid asymmetrical zipper on Dick’s jacket —high fashion was useless — fingers roving over Dick’s chest, to his collar, one hand catching his hair and pulling, and Dick’s lips sucked away from his neck with a softpop, and he captured his mouth with his own almost frantically, his free hand sliding over his stupid black skinny jeans to cup his ass, pressing Dick tight against him, and god that coat shouldn’t be there.

When he let go of Dick’s head, the black hair fell out of his line of sight as Dick ducked down to Wally’s chest, exposed to the cool night air, hot, wet tongue tracing paths paths that burned over it, capturing a nipple with a sharp snap — AH — making Wally’s lower half stutter against him, a light vibration radiating from his core.

He finally found the zipper, tugging clumsily at it, trying to find the angle, eventually fisting Dick’s hair again in frustration. Dick’s head fell back to look at him, with a moan, lips parted and glistening in the evening light, pupils blown so wide Wally could barely make out his favorite shade of blue.

It sent lightning down his spine.

His knees almost gave away beneath him as he wrapped one arm around Dick to get the leverage he needed to open his jacket, mouthing fiercely down his neck. Dick wound his hands tightly into Wally’s hair so hard it hurt while Wally’s hands finally, finally ran over Dick’s sides and to the center, maybe popping a button or two off trying to get his dress shirt open—open for me —and clutching at him till his thumb reached tape—Dick’s injury from the other day—but he wasn’t complaining so it must be okay—but then something thick and wet and warm flowed over his palm and snapped Wally out of his ferver.

Pushing Dick away gently with one hand, carefully taking the other out of his jacket, he stared at his palm, coated with blood.

“Dick, you’re bleeding?”

“I… what?” Dick blinked, blood pounding in his ears and heart in his throat, hips still trying to snap back against Wally’s, aching from the sudden absence of contact. He followed Wally’s eyes down to his palm, and it took another second for him to realize that he felt… stickier than he should.

“Oh, no.”

Wally helped him struggle out of his jacket; the white shirt underneath was stained a dark red, and Dick couldn’t help the slightly hysteric woe of realizing that it was totally ruined.

“Oh no oh no oh no Alfred’s going to murder me.”

It didn’t matter that he was the only protector of Gotham at the moment, what did matter was that Alfred had warned him not to tear the stitches he’d gotten in the knife fight the other day—the night he’d drunk texted Wally—and Dick had tried—he hadn’t even used his grapple yet—but clearly he hadn’t succeeded. There were going to be severe repercussions when the man found out.

At least that thought made his jeans a little looser—he was starting tochafe. Of all the days to forget his boxers…

Carefully, Dick peeled away the wad of soaked padding, removing his shirt to wipe the excess blood away so he could take a proper look.

“Okay,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. The stitches are fine.” Wally didn’t have to zoom him home and ruin the whole date. They were already late for dinner reservations. “Just needs redressing.” It was probably the line launcher that strained his side and cracked the clotting and made the bleeding start over, but it would die down soon. Robin hadn’t even noticed through the haze of adrenaline and arousal.

Using the shirt to keep pressure on the wound, Dick grabbed Wally’s wrist and wiped off his bloodied hand on the once-white material. “I think we passed a CVS couple streets down, around the corner.” Even if they hadn’t, Wally would find one somewhere. And hopefully not lose him in the process, seeing as there was no way Dick could just waltz into a pharmacy, shirtless and bloody and with a Gothamite’s explanation for why he wasn’t in the ER instead. “Could you go grab some peroxide, bandages and tape? I’ll wait he—” He paused. Standing around, injured, in an alley on an empty street after 8 pm was probably not the best idea.

“Up there.” Robin pointed to the roof of the building they were next to. “I’ll wait up there.”

Wally nodded tersely and struggled to keep to a jog looking for the CVS; he sorta remembered it himself and hung a left when he exited the alley. It wasn’t a disaster, but surely it was starting to hurt by now, and man, he really did not want to go home.

Well, not unless he could convince Dick to stay.

But that probably wouldn’t be advisable in Dick’s condition, so stalling in New York for as long as he could was his best option. Selfish, maybe, but Dick would let him know if he needed to leave. Besides, he was starving.

It wasn’t the CVS he remembered, when he stopped under a flickering sign, but it would do. The aisles were unusually crowded, laid out in quirky directions and crammed into the tiny corner story unlike the roomy convenience stores he was used to in Central. There was no where like New York. The bandages and peroxide were in the back, along with some tape. He pulled the largest box of bandages he could find—he hadn’t really gotten a good look at how large the injury was, and cotton gauze to apply the disinfectant.

On his way out he passed a row of t-shirts. Dick’s shirt was trashed, but at least it saved Alfred the pain of sewing those buttons on. He wasn’t even sure where they landed, or if they would want to recover them if they found them. He shuddered, thinking about the floor of the alley. Alright. The first one he saw in Dick’s size was covered in neon paint splatters over “New York New York” but screw it. He jogged out the door before the cash register finished printing out his receipt.

On the roof, Dick had his legs dangling over the edge, his coat over his shoulders. Wally dropped the bag behind him and leaned over; the shirt—already ruined—was in a ball against the wound to apply pressure and soak up blood.

“Hey,” he said softly, and Dick turned with a grin and a grimace, hissing a little as Wally lifted his arms to get a look. “Does it hurt much?"

Dick shook his head, and Wally carefully peeled away the blood soaked tape, tossing it in a pile behind them. The bleeding had already slowed, and Dick barely winced as the peroxide washed away the dried blood caking the wound.

Wally actually really liked this. He was usually the one being bandaged and bent back into shape after a fight; Dick was more careful, more graceful, more refined and precise. Wally was a bowling ball and usually his bones were the pins as much as the bad guys.

"Therrrre we go.” Leaning back on his heels to examine his handiwork. “Lookin good, hot stuff,”  he said as he dug the ugliest shirt he could have found and tossed it at Dick’s head.

“I dunno, dude,” he caught the shirt with ease, spreading it open as cautiously as if it were about to catch on fire. “I think it’ll suit you better. Goes with the hair, y’know?”

But he didn’t actually complain, putting his coat aside and slipping his arms through the sleeves and flapping them at Wally until the redhead rolled his eyes and stepped closer to push the neckline over his head. Dick promptly grabbed him around the waist and tugged him into his lap, still precariously balanced on the railing, legs now dangling over the safer side. His side throbbed in protest, but Dick was too busy burrowing his face into Wally’s shoulder to care. He breathed in the smell of cloth and wind, blindly mouthing up Wally’s neck to his lips. The minutes—and admittedly fear of Alfred—had washed away the arousal, and with the adrenaline burned out as well, he was left a little too content to move.

So he kissed Wally slowly, one hand hooked in his jeans and the other pushing under the sweater, wondering if he’d be able to feel the tattoo. He couldn’t, of course; it was just smooth warm skin, but Dick palmed over it anyway, feeling the tiny shivers traveling along Wally’s spine.

“Wanna go home—” he murmured into Wally’s mouth. “—and throw you on my bed—” Kisses along his jaw and up to his ear. “—and finish what we started.” Sucked the earlobe between his teeth and tugged.

Then he stopped, pulling away enough to look Wally in the eye.

“But I also want to do this right. So if you didn’t mind the disruption too much, Mr. West, maybe you’d like to resume our date.” Richard’s lips tugged up in a helpless smile as he batted his eyelashes at his boyfriend. “I doubt your stomach would mind.”

As Dick’s lips traced over the edge of his jaw, Wally didn’t care one iota that his stomach was growling right now, that he was famished. He groaned inwardly. Augh don’t do this to meeeee. Dick’s first suggestion was by far the more enticing one.

But if Dick wanted dinner, they’d get dinner.

“Guess the kissing rule’s gone out the window,” he said tartly, biting back a whine as he slid next to Dick, legs dangling over the opposite side of the roof so that he could face home. He cupped his chin and gently kissed him in kind, languidly. “So where are we headed?” he murmured as he traced the outline of Dick’s ear with his thumb.

“You broke it first, Kid Lasciviousness,” Dick scowled at him with no real malice, hopping off his perch. “And I was going to make this all traditional, too.”

Not for himself, of course. At the risk of sounding like a bigger sap than he already did, Dick couldn’t care less about what they did and how as long as they were… together. Being brought up first in a circus and then as a billionaire’s adopted kid didn’t exactly bolster a traditional idea of ‘tradition’, but good to know that Wally was even less aware of it than him.

Wally stomach protested loud enough that Dick could probably hear it this time, and Wally broke away with another groan, swinging his legs back over the safer edge of the roof.

“I hope you’re buying,” he said, punching Dick lightly on the shoulder. “I could put Costco out of business right now."

Lots of food. Wally stood, stretching a little. And preferably quick service.

Slipping his arms through his jacket, Dick paused to zip it up before flipping over the roof and down the fire escape, Wally zooming past him and waiting for him at the bottom with his hands on his hips where Dick’s had been barely half an hour ago and an infuriating grin on his stupidly kissable face. Robin picked up the shades still lying on the ground, and whacked him on the back of his head, for posterity’s sake.

Or something like that.

“Barbeque,” Dick said, grabbing Wally’s fingers and starting to walk without preamble. He’d felt sorry enough for himself at their last outing to last a good few months; he wasn’t about to overthink this now. Holding his best friend’s hand felt normal, and he’d always been better at following his instincts than overthinking. “Couple blocks away. March, West.”

Thankfully, Wally hadn’t diverted from their route—it was probably a bad sign that he didn’t use civilian terms even in his thoughts—when he sped them away, and the half hour walk to Blue Smoke was now a five minute stroll. Dick could smell the ribs as he pulled the door open, wrapping an arm around Wally and giving him a quick squeeze before dropping it.

The waitress led them to a booth at the far end the restaurant, relatively private and certainly a little quieter than the rambunctious front. Dick raised an eyebrow at Wally over the beverages menu as she told them to take their time to decide and disappeared.