#bartdick

On one wall is a perfect rendering of the Mona Lisa—in neon colors. Against another is a mural dedicated to his face—ranging from a Bruce Wayne-esque grin to Robin, Boy Wonder in cat ears. His infiltrator keeps speeding around the room, paint showering from a brush in hand and staining the tarp in an ugly array of colors.

 “Bart,” Dick starts.

 Bart stops immediately. He grins up to Dick, Kid Flash uniform caked with red around his thighs (Dick hums) and purple tapering down his chest. Bart pushes his goggles up above his face, revealing the only strip of tan skin that hasn’t been tainted by the storm of colors in the room.

 “What are you doing?” A tired smile etches against the corner of Dick’s lips and he toes around the paint puddle to meet his boyfriend.

 “Remodeling!” Bart reports, and Dick may just be tired, but Bart looks like he’s spitting out paint when he talks. “Surprise! Isn’t it crash?”

 “It’s a big change of scenery,” Dick notes. He scans the room again and finds tiny little flowers have been painted on his window. How on earth did he miss that?

 “Do you like it?” Bart asks with a tone of voice that mirrors when he’s at the peak of his impulsiveness. Home brims at the very core of his question, and Dick can’t ignore it.

 He thumbs Bart’s face, smearing a blotch of blue that happened to drip on Bart’s cheek. It flattens beneath the pad of his finger, bright as ever, and Dick quickly molds his hands to the rest of Bart’s jawline. He looks down to green eyes beneath his opaque lenses, and watches Bart’s enthusiastic façade drop for only a moment. “I love it.”

 Bart keens before they even kiss, and he rolls to the tips of his feet to stand at eye level with Dick. (Because even at 20 and 25, Bart is short. All lean muscle with a personality that just makes him even younger.) He slaps his arms over Dick’s shoulders, and paint gushes as it meets Dick’s Kevlar, and Dick knows that’s going to be hard to wash out in the morning, but kissing Bart is definitely worth it.

 Bits of paint somehow get into Dick’s mouth, but he ignores it in favor of nibbling Bart’s lips. He feels fingers pinching his Kevlar-colored skin, hears Bart whining, and wraps his arms around Bart’s waist so he can prop Bart up and higher into their kiss.

 “Bed,” Bart breathes out, and he’s dangling in Dick’s grip. “Bedbedbed—”

 “You got rid of it,” Dick points out. He points to the rainbow void known as his room and reaches for the zipper at the back of Bart’s uniform.

 “Oh.” Bart frowns. “I’m fine doing it here.”

 “I’m not,” Dick says, but his cold hand is now touching the warm bare skin of Bart’s back and Bart gasps and Dick feels the need to buck against him. “I’m tired.”

  Bart pouts. Which is the worst argument ever. He proceeds to yank at the zipper on the side of Dick’s uniform, and Dick only rolls his eyes.

 “We’ll get dirty,” Dick points out.

 “I’m already dirty.” Bart sighs this time and tosses his head back.

 “Bart,” Dick chides.

 “Dick,” Bart mimics, and wow, when did he learn to do that? God, that’s hot.

 They stare at each other for a while (which is more like a relative five seconds for Bart and even longer for Dick) when a drop of purple paint drips from the ceiling and lands on Bart’s face.

 Bart uncharacteristically yelps, and the blotch completely coats his hair. He stretches out of Dick’s grip and falls to the ground with a THUD.

 Dick laughs.

The tiny voice in the back of Bart’s head—the one that nagged and scratched at his resolve as though it was nothing—told him to forget about Nightwing. Forget about the way he smiled through his frown of disapproval, or the way he would put his hand on the small of Bart’s back and pull him closer until they touched, and pretend he didn’t hear Bart the first time. Forget about his warmth, or the way he managed to get that laugh out of Dick. The one where Dick sort of crooned and cackled, forgetting about all entities in the room because it was like…Dick remembered to be a kid again.

Yes, insisted the tiny little voice in his head, it was just that easy.

Only it wasn’t. Cissie knew his secret, only because he was careless one day and she saw him running. She was smart and pretty and cool. And…one day she would pull another archer aside and be the strength—the right arm that he needed.

Cissie was a reminder that Bart didn’t belong in the past. That, even with Nightwing, he was screwing up everything. The last thing he ever thought he would find in the past was heartbreak.

It felt like it did when he hurt his knee: running, feeling the wind and adrenaline whistle through his ears with no regret, and then…boom. All the pain, all the agony as his heart caved in, asphyxiated from all other emotion except for guilt and fear.

Superboy greeted him on the platform, in the middle of specs and calculations. The silhouette was almost so familiar that Bart could have cried. All that was missing from his hands was a bouquet of flowers and a chirpy comment that dried in his throat. As Conner scanned the boy over, Bart found himself at the end of a brotherly kiss and a hug.

“I hope you realize you’re an idiot,” Conner chided.

“What do you mean?” Bart looked up, eyes tired and brow furrowed.

“Don’t pretend you can endure everything.” A large hand petted the brunet on the head, super blue eyes morphing in concern. “I can hear your heartbeat whenever he’s around.”

Stunned, Bart couldn’t think of a response. He looked to his feet, shoulders to his ears as red bloomed in his cheeks. Only moments later found Bart by himself, sitting in a room where months ago, Wally, Dick, and Superboy had hauled his time machine. The thing had started collecting dust; maybe a few cobwebs.

He would come here in the two months since his stay, to watch the machine. Sometimes he found himself tempted to fix the mechanism; yet many of the parts required to assemble it would not be built for another few decades.

Going back to the future, Bart knew that he would be dead. Irey would scold him. If Jai were still alive, he would ruffle hands through brunet hair and kiss him on the temple, much like Conner had done. He imagined that Uncle Damian, too, would beat him upside the head and then make him go to work, pretending it was a good enough apology.

Yeah, the brunet thought to himself. It would have been amazing.

Clutching the wrench between his hands firmly, Bart only stared at the machine. It took him nearly a year to create it; three months deciphering the chicken scratch from the Flash’s notebooks and lacing it together with the theories of the second Batman. People thought he was crazy. After his mother died—his only family, Irey refused to leave him. Jai, too, but…

Bart bowed his head. Impulse was a better name for him than he would have thought. Past fixing the krolotean issues, making sure grandpa stayed alive, and mending Uncle Wally and Dick Grayson’s friendship, he wasn’t sure where to go. Every head-banging path led him back to the time machine; reassembling parts and disassembling parts. Fixing tubes and unfixing tubes. He couldn’t leave. It would have been just too easy to run away.

Behind him, the door squealed as it was slowly opened. Maybe that was why Bart liked the room so much. It was underdeveloped; slow and rickety. Primitive to even this time period, but crooning doors had been around for ages. Jaime teased him for liking little things like that; Jaime reminded Bart of Jai.

“Should have known that I would have found you here.”

He was so moded that even pretending to joke hurt. Pretending that everything was okay, that he wasn’t even the slightest bit angry at Uncle Wally, that maybe…just maybe he wasn’t in love with Dick Grasyon. He’d felt the ranges of anger, frustration, and sadness forty years from now. But heartbreak…heart break was a new concept for him.

“I could have gone to other places,” Bart murmured quietly. He flicked his wrist, allowing the wrench to catch the light of the lanterns above, then closed his eyes. He didn’t expect Wally to meander across the room and sit beside him.

The seconds passed between them as water dripped from stalactites. Even now, Bart never understood the relationship between him and his Uncle Wally. He was treated like a third child; embraced and protected, but treated like a delicate thing because the Allen Family was dead.

“It’s a nice room, isn’t it?” Wally mused, and he joined his cousin in scrutinizing the machine. “I used to come here a lot. Did my best thinking here.”

Bart shrugged.

“It used to be my souvenir room. Was pretty mad when Nightwing thought it was the best place to keep your machine.” Wally bumped shoulders with him, a tiny smile on his face. When it wilted, discouraged, Bart couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction.

This time, though, he turned to meet Wally’s eye.

Guilt shimmered in his cousin’s gaze. Beneath the hue of green, furrowed beneath red eyebrows, there was a way the redhead analyzed him that was different from the others. For the first time, Bart saw…substance. He saw Wally looking over not as a foe, but as a family member. Like how in forty years, his uncle would gaze at him—which, in retrospect, was kind of eerie and creepy. And after a long, long time, Bart had gotten pretty used to creepy, especially after watching his uncle’s son flirt with the ‘goddamn Batman.’

Swallowing a breath, Bart raised his head a little higher, inhibiting anymore solemnity to rake at his insides. Without forewarning, he announced, “I’m listening.”

“How close were you and I in the future?” Wally questioned. His eyes narrowed wryly, lips curled into a frown.

At first, Bart hesitated. He’d formulated a fake family life to explain whenever he came to the current time. Tim immediately called him out on his shit, and every time Bart even said anything to Conner, all he got was a pat on the head and a look of brotherly pity. Nightwing took an even deeper interest, analyzing everything he said. Something told Bart that his ex-boyfriend’s best friend—his family would not take kindly being lied to. Nor did he have the strength to remember what he said.

“In the future,” Bart started, “My…my parents are gone. My dad when I was six and my mom when I was eight. You—” The brunet made a point of meddling with the wrench in his hands. “—made a point to have Max Mercury to take care of me. Until…”

Until he got lost in a speed entity—something called the Speed Force that his generation had little information to go about. One Wally West and his wife would dedicate their lives trying to dissect this, but not for a very long time. Bart tossed the wrench between his knees and hugged himself.  

“Something happened,” he muttered quietly. “To all of them. And…and I was mad at you for a while.” For the first ten years of his life, this Wally West had been in charge of him, but even Bart only got glimpses of the man as a blur or a camera goof on the eNews and something less retro than what current city-goers called ‘televisions.’ “You…I grew up knowing the history of the Flash family. Of knowing what my grandfather was like, and how much my grandma loved him until everything went sour. About his partner, Kid Flash.

“You...you weren’t there. Not at first, and I didn’t know why. But…a-after Max disappeared, literally the hour after he was no longer on our planet, you showed up and took me in.” Bart swallowed hard, staring at the time machine at the edge of his feet. It was one sheet of metal, a particular alloy made specifically for this machine—and engraved on the side of the machine, no bigger than one of Bart’s fingers, was the name Wally West. “I thought you hated me.

“I thought that all these years, you were too busy being Flash and just thought you were too good to give your aunt and uncle’s grandson a chance. You had your own family and all, a…and no one really looked at the Allen Family after Grandpa Barry died. That’s what Mom told me.

“When you took me in, you treated me like one of your kids. We didn’t get along at first, either—you thought I was too fast and you were just impatient. Then you pulled pranks on me and let your kids take care of me and…” Bart’s nails dug into the palms of his hands and he straightened his legs, allowing himself to see the matching loafers he wore for prom. “And that you were afraid of losing me, too. You were the first stable home that I had in ten years, a-and Iwouldhavedonanything for you. Even—”

“Even break up with my best friend to keep us together?” Wally guessed. The vibrato and intrusion of his voice nearly made Bart jump. He’d gone on a tangent with his explanation, forgetting about other presences in the room. Just…confessing everything he’d kept bottled up for a while.

Bart nodded uneasily. “I-Idon’tbelonginthistimeperiod.”

At this instant, he expected Wally to bonk him on the head again; call him a brainless moron and tell him damn straight. What he heard was an upheaval sigh as Wally collected to his feet and offered a hand. As the teen took it, he felt a squeeze and saw the remorse in the ex-hero’s eyes.

“I was wrong,” Wally muttered humbly.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

“Excuse you?”

“I was wrong,” the redhead said again, this time more belligerent. He sighed disdainfully, running a hand through his hair before taking a step back to look at the younger speedster. “Look, I don’t know why—maybe you’ve got this damn good luck charm or something—only I don’t believe in magic—but I like you. I really, really do.”

Okay. Now, slipping out of his depressing views and considerably very confused, Bart blinked a handful of times, his mouth parting slightly.

“You…love my best friend, right?” Guh. Wally had this somewhat wrinkly look on his face, like he was trying to talk while pulling out a splinter from his hands. Those things hurt.

The question did, too. The moment the ‘L’ word was tossed out there, Bart’s eyes moved to the stalactites above him. He debated this in his head—over and over and over until it just hurt and jarred into a tiny conclusion. Bart shrugged with a quick twitch of the shoulder. “Eh.”

“Eh?” Wally’s eyes bugged out. He looked ready to kill him. “I’m about to give you permission to date my best friend, and all you can do is throw aside his feelings like ‘eh’?”

“What do you want me to say?” Glaring, Bart bit the inside of his mouth and coiled his hands into fists. He breathed sharply and kicked the wrench with his foot even though it hurt. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to turn out. Not after running out of Palo Alto the moment Wally caught them. “I didn’t need your permission to date DG, Wally. I never did. J-Just because we broke up doesn’t mean…doesn’t mean it was about you.” The words fell emptily on his tongue, hollow as he felt. By the time he got to the end of his rant, Bart’s focus had turned to the ground, glaring in frustration at his feet.

“Yup. Uhuh. Sure. Anyway—” Wally hit him over the head. Hard.

“Ow!”

“You still bug the everloving shit out of me. You’re lucky I don’t wring your neck.” Wally waggled his hand half-heartedly, eyes half-lidded in some weird retro sarcasm along with a smile that curled across his lips. Seething, the redhead ruffled brown hair and sobered. “Anyway, you don’t have to be the adult here, Bart. I’m telling you this now that you can ask and beg and get what you want—even sometimes when it seems ridiculous—”

Wally’s eyebrows furrowed together like he was making the hardest decision in his life, then a whole new amusement tinkered across his gaze, totally out of character for the mood. “Anyway, I’m turning the table over to Wing—” At a speed worthy of the Flash, Wally grabbed him by the arm and flung him out the door.

“What the—oof!”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be sitting here. Patiently. Trying not to laugh.”

Bart looked to his cousin in disbelief, then turned around. To a bouquet of blue asters that glowed with the intensity of…two cerulean blue eyes and…a mop of black hair clipped back with a twin pair of pearly clips over the very famous, very first kiddish Robin smile.

His throat went dry, doing a full lookover of his leader. “Princess Serenity?”

Even to Bart, the comparison was almost ridiculous. He forgot to be angry at his cousin in favor of the long gown that Nightwing indubitably wore. Bart’s favorite part about Princess Serenity’s skirt was that it flowed like a waterfall, dancing and sashaying over her legs like music. It was ethereal—and on Dick’s own body, only reached his ankles. The tunic was laced with gold and a large bow with twin ribbons that flowed on either side of him. He was barefoot—(Bart would later comment how her feet were never really shown)—and the way his torso was angled compared to the real Princess Serenity, made it look like a man wearing a really large retro—vintage nightgown.

He would have laughed, only Bart was still overcoming the shock. His hands had slackened—and, and, even the makeup looked good.

“You’re wearing a dress,” he said stupidly.

If Dick was embarrassed, he didn’t let it show. Taking a step forward, the elder teenager shrunk the distance between the pair, then bowed his head. Under clumps of black hair, Bart could vaguely make out the shape of a golden crescent moon. He grinned mischievously, and Bart knew he would never again be able to take orders from his leader without thinking of this dress.

“Am I pretty?” Dick asked as if it were the most casual thing ever.

Bart gulped. He nodded. “Very pretty.” He couldn’t help but notice the silver sparkles on the side of Dick’s face and the way his eyelashes fluttered. From the corner of his eye, he could see the little crowd gathered on the couch, followed by Artemis and Miss Martian, who looked very proud of their handiwork, and was aware of Wally, who was slowly circling the room to be next to his girlfriend. For the first time since the Flash Family dinner, he saw the pair lace hands and Artemis kiss the man she loved on the cheek. 

“Do you remember these flowers?”

“I got them for you. On that very first day when you agreed to go out with me. When I was trying to proposition you since I thought you’d like sex.” When Bart was nervous, he rambled. He had no filter on his mouth, his brain fell into autopilot, and it was like running the same path taken a thousand times without actually looking, so you were in trouble if you ran into a pedestrian like an old lady on the street who would beat you with a cane or an umbrella—a yellow umbrella preferably since it was Bart’s favorite color next to blue—cerulean blue—

Wally’s eyebrow twitched a little, like it was the first time he heard this. Of course it would be—knowing DeeGee, he probably deleted all the security footage just like Bart anticipated because that was such a Dick Grayson thing to do, and it made sense because this was super-cute Dick Grayson.

Dick took closer steps until the flowers were pressed against them. A large hand took Bart’s very own and cupped it around the stem, and an amused smile curled across that face. “You gave me these flowers. Blue asters, and then we went out to eat. You told me all these ridiculous plans you had and how you loved Sailor Moon and…and then you called me out on something.”

He padded his finger along the side of Bart’s face, blue eyes brimming with fascination that made Bart’s heart do a somersault. This…this was always how Dick looked at him, and Bart knew centuries from now, he would never get used to it. Each time Dick looked at him like this, he’d fall into this trance all over again and never want to leave.

The elder teen continued, inhaling a sharp breath and spoke loudly, eyebrows furrowing. “You knew that I was in love with my best friend even though I tried hard to keep that a secret. I did it because I knew he was in love with my other best friend—someone I loved like a sister, and some day…I’d come to love him so much that it hurt and I needed to tell him.”

In that brief moment, Bart wanted to look away to see the color drain from Wally’s face—to see the reaction that had formed, but Dick had a hold on him.

“What you were really asking instead…other than making my life ten times weirder than it has been—” Dick’s hands found themselves on his hips, pulling the younger teen closer until he picked the brunet up and placed him on the kitchen counter. “Was for me to fall in love with you instead, to keep that friendship intact. Because you love your cousin more than anything, and if I could shift my feelings, then I would still have my best friend.”

This time, Dick look embarrassed. He turned pink, and with each climbing word, Bart could feel himself turning darker, too.

“What you didn’t anticipate was for it to work. Or for you to fall for me, too.” Dick cupped his face, blue eyes locked solely on green. “I…love the way you laugh, even when it’s inappropriate. I love the way you light up when anyone talks to you. I love those little freckles that are on your nose—” To that, a round of high-pitched aww’s radiated through the room—Bart was pretty sure he heard Jaime’s voice in that, too. Dick rolled his eyes. “—I could kiss them. All of them. I love being able to hold you like this and knowing I have you.”

Bart’s lip dribbled. He’d never been one to cry—only have speed episodes, and he couldn’t deny feeling so flustered and touched that he was close to vibrating off the counter. It was hard, heart thrumming in his chest and focusing on the way Dick’s lips moved and hearing the audible words and not counting the glitter spots on his ex-boyfriend’s face.

“DG—”

“Imp,” Dick continued, his eyebrow peaked dangerously. He kissed Bart this time; on the top of his ear just the way the brunet loved it. “You’re the first person that I’ve fallen in love with after four years. And we get each other. Can you just…please stop running away and let me catch you?”

Wow. Wow. Grife.

The brunet sniffled, his hands fisting in the taller teen’s clothes as they rocked back and forth gently, swaying in Dick’s arms. “Can we take turns wearing the dress?”

It was enough for a sweet chuckle to tickle Bart’s ears. “Promise.”

“Okay.”

Dick lowered his head and kissed him.

There were cheers. The way the team acted about Dick and he as a couple was never an exaggeration—the girls cooed, guys aw’ed, and there was even cake involved. Artemis threw her arms around both boys, giving twin kisses on the cheeks, followed by Miss Martian and others. Bart never expected for them to gain so much hype, but he spotted Tim, Jaime, and Conner giving Dick cautious looks and appreciative smiles. Cassie pulled him away, one-armed and high-fived him, BB was still confused on the whole Dick-Richard-DG thing. Wally looked as though he wanted to say something—but he held his tongue. Looking at his cousin cautiously, Bart wondered if Dick and he were going to discuss what just happened.

But after Dick tensed, nervously smiling to his best friend and Wally hugged him—platonically—he relinquished that thought. Dick would tell him if it was a problem.

They would stand by each other, hand-in-hand with a grip too tight because neither boy wanted the other to leave his side. Later that night, with odd festivities still going on and Wally fighting over the Wii with Gar, Bart sat contently on his boyfriend’s lap and played with the skirt of the dress.

“The team’s never gonna let you forget this.” Bart grinned quietly and kissed his boyfriend.

Dick sighed in his hair, petting Bart’s hips and moving his legs. His fingers ran down either side of the teen, pressing and unpressing against the dress shirt Bart wore. “It’s worth it if I get to have you.”

Wriggling in his position and ignoring the shouting matches during Mario Kart 8 (something Bart usually loved to play, but he loved sitting in Dick’s lap even more), Bart’s hand pressed tightly on his boyfriend’s inner thigh over the satin material and he moved his butt over Dick’s crotch. “We should go back to my room and you should take this off.”

Chuckle. Figures—usually the darker-haired teen shrugged off compliments like that.

“For real.” Bart climbed his lap and nuzzled his ear against Dick’s. “I’ll put on that Sailor Jupiter uniform for you. And forget to wear underwear.”

Dick shivered at the thought, turning a modest shade of pink that put Tim to shame.

Bart smiled. Things were totally back to normal. “Remember. Green makes my eyes pop.”

  xxx

  “Okay.”

Nudge. Bart smiled shamelessly, swaying back and forth with Dick at his side, hands laced together as they enjoyed Chinese food at Happy Harbor. He was drunk with giddiness, a little lightheaded that his second Flash Family Get Together had gone much swimmingly, and had to bite back a giggle whenever Dick’s hand clamped on his thigh. In his defense, Dick had been the one to start the swaying. Who knew—the great Nightwing was totally able to relax.

At one in the morning after going on a brisk run, two Allens and a pair of best friends stopped by for Chinese food. Wally sat next to Barry, halfway through his dumplings (flawlessly using chopsticks even though Barry had given up halfway through the meal) and his eyes narrowed at the pair.

“So, you two are together again. For about two weeks now, and I haven’t deterred you a bit,” Wally announced as though it was a fact. It was.

“Which is good,” Barry added, and he scooped a spoonful of fried rice with no interest in eating it. In fact, Grandpa Barry looked between the couple with a smile that said, ‘I can’t find anything wrong with this, and even if I could, I’m not going to crash it.’

“Stop,” Dick murmured to Bart—a little goofy, since a speedster elbow was humming precariously on his lap.

“I get that you two are a couple and everything.” Wally opened his mouth, ushering himself to say more, but then stopped. He sighed. “You know what? I’m happy for the both of you, too. Now that Bart’s watched everything of Sailor Moon known to mankind—”

“Not in English!” Bart pointed out. He jabbed his spoon playfully in his cousin’s direction, then squirmed when Dick’s finger poked his belly. “I’ve got all the words committed to memory; every last make up! Now English.”

“You’re going to spend a good amount of time ranting how terrible it is,” Dick commented. His eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully, blue eyes amused. “It’s…not traught.”

“We’ll make it traught,” protested the brunet. He split into a grin and ate the rest of his stir-fry noodles. “We’ll crash the Sailor Mode. And you have to wear a top hat when you do it—and I’ll wear the seifuku! Just the way you like it.”

Before DeeGee had time to blush or Grandpa Barry could process what exactly just the way you like it meant, Wally had banged a fist into the table, grabbing the trio’s attention. He turned green, which was a little offensive but Bart knew he was still adjusting (stomaching) the fact his baby cousin and best friend were a thing.

And, Bart thought, if he played his cards right, then Dick and he would be a long thing.

“Okay,” Wally said again, and he took a swig of his Dr. Pepper. “I get it. You two are together. And I’m happy to see you two idiotically in bliss together—ifyoueverhurtmycousin or mybestfriend, blah blah, I’ll kick your butt. But—” Wally seethed, turning the brightest hue of red. “Whoever is playing footsies with me, can you please stop?”

Dick looked to Bart.

Bart looked to Dick.

Instantly their legs retracted and they glowed guiltily. Flirting, teasing, and touching intimately came easy and crashfully for them. It was only when someone called them out on it that Bart felt like the blushing virgin he was and Dick was trying to reassemble his pretense of a mature teenager-slash-adult.

So, “Sorry,” was a unison response, even if they didn’t feel guilty about it.

Later, when Bart finished his fifth meal of the day, Barry pulled him aside before Nightwing and he could leave. It was early on a Saturday morning, and in a handful of hours, Young Justice’s several squads would be assembled for a new mission. He looked to his bewildered grandson, a smile on his face while Wally and Dick chatted about something crash at the other end of the street.

They were cool, by the way. Bart returned his future grandfather’s smile, rocking on his heels as he remembered only the other day, Dick assured him indirectly-confessing-once-having-feelings-for-his-best-friend hadn’t severed a life-long connection. DeeGee was happily relieved and Wally, although thrown off at the thought (seriously? Bart wondered. Dick used to look to Wally like his cousin was his world. Now…those looks were reserved for him) thought very little of it. Bart watched as Wally pushed Dick playfully in the arm.

“Sorry that I haven’t had time for you lately.” The guilt brimmed in Barry’s tone and he touched Bart’s shoulder affectionately. “Between the League and getting ready for this pregnancy, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I forget.”

“Totally cool.” Bart waved his hand, though secretly, his heart fluttered with warmth. “Not very many expecting fathers have to dote on their grandson while expecting a child. Well. Unless you’re old and you still got it. Hmm.”

Barry looked torn between laughing and not knowing what to say. He chuckled a little, patting Bart on the back before throwing himself onto the tiny teen for a hug. Bart hugged back. “I’m glad. But you and I are gonna go on patrol when you get back from your mission. Okay?”

Bart could have run to the Himalayas and shouted ‘HOORAY’ at the top of his lungs from that comment. He looked to the man with large green eyes, similar to those above him before grinning. “Promise?”

“Promise, Little Bee.” Grinning, Barry ruffled his hair and then gestured to the pair, who seemed to notice grandfather and grandson were speaking and were waiting for the time to go by. “And about dating Dick…I’m happy for you about that too. I’m glad you found a place for yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” A bashful blush rose in Bart’s cheeks and he smiled shyly. He almost wanted to apologize again for acting giddy at the restaurant, but couldn’t. They spent the second Flash Family Dinner in glowing warmth, with Wally cracking jokes with both of them, Artemis kissing him on the cheek like an awesome older sister, and the Wests, Garricks, and Allens treating Dick and his relationship as though it was the most casual thing ever. The only time Bart was bummed was when Dick wrestled his hand out of the older teen’s pants. He couldn’t help it; saying grace around the table took forever.

“Uh…wow, I don’t know what protocol says for young grandpa and his future grandson…hmm.” Barry rubbed his chin. “Play nice. And don’t hurt him. Make sure he doesn’t hurt you. Don’t let it interfere with your school work and…oh! Be happy.”

Green eyes blinked to the wiser ones above him. Barry patted his shoulders gentle-heartedly, smiling to the younger speedster.

“You’re a good kid. And I know in the future, your parents probably would have said the same thing.” Combing a hand through blond hair, Barry took a step back and looked to Bart proudly. “Iris means a lot to me. As much as Artemis means to Wally and Joan to Jay. So…maybe it’s Nightwing, maybe it’s not. But it’s good to have an anchor. Something to run back to. You have me, your grandmother…”

“And now I have him,” Bart gathered. Just thinking about it made his chest tingle.

“Would have said it at the first family dinner too—you know, after getting over my shock.” Smiling firmly, Barry gestured over to the duo, then frowned and wagged his hand. “But remember! If he breaks your heart, don’t even hesitate to tell me. I know all the secret codes to the Batcave, and even if Bruce changes it, I’m very persistent. Very—”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.” Bart flung his arms over the man and felt his heart swell with love. Disgruntled, Barry rearranged himself before hugging him back.

“Aw, who am I kidding,” mused the blonde speedster after an affectionate breath. “Your dad’s probably given you this talk, hasn’t he?”

No, Bart didn’t say. He nuzzled his head closer to Barry, pretending he hadn’t heard the question.

But fatherly love was timeless.

xxx

  “What did he say to you?”

Since walking back to the cave, Bart had been cheerier than usual. Well—Dick smiled inwardly, watching as Bart unintentionally hummed with each step that he took, swinging their arms joyously since they opted to take the long way back to Mt. Justice—he’d been that happy since they were a couple again. The taller teen was beginning to wonder—and rejoice—in the fact Bart didn’t seem to have a maximum capacity on his zeal.

It was a strange…readjustment since they were a couple. A weight lifted off their shoulders after putting everything out in the open; one that Dick hadn’t even noticed was there. True, it was a big fat obvious duh that Wally’s opinion came into play about their relationship, but Dick hoped by now Bart understood they were together. No third entity was going to break them apart this time.

“Oh, you know. The Talk that all parents feel they need to give,” Bart chirped. He hopped to the top of his feet and pecked Dick on the cheek.

They tended to do that, even during mission briefings and debriefings—lazy kisses, holding hands, and groping where it was the least appropriate. Conner had to beat it in his head that he was the leader and molesting his boyfriend should be circumstantial and not become a regular thing.

“He thinks that you’re my anchor. And I like that thought. You’re a cool anchor.” Bart rocked on his heels brightly, twisting his flighty footing almost like a ballet dancer as they reached the entrance of the mountain and stuffed nimble fingers in his pockets. “If you flexed with your Nightwing suit on, the bird would totally look like an anchor. Or a dolphin. Ooh! You could be aquatic!”

“I don’t think—”

“Seawing!” Bart flapped his arms enthusiastically and circled his boyfriend, creating a tiny tornado at the taller teen’s feet. “You could squirt water and carry around a TASER!”

“You’re ridiculous.” Regardless, Dick laughed, even sparing a small giggle as the computer scanned their identities. Once in the middle of the room, Bart’s bubbly eyes sobered, amusement teeming in his irises and a beautiful smile that only made Dick…happy. He was really, really happy.

“So,” Bart said simply, his eyes gleaming.

“So,” Dick echoed. His hand was taken between two slim ones—a pair that never seemed to have calluses, but were scraped with oil under his fingernails. He wasn’t sure Bart even realized it, when the young brunet was able to marvel about cars and machines and the mechanics behind them, that he had the makings to become a fine engineer. It was a subject Wally begrudgingly admitted Bart and he bonded over quite well.

While he was busy marveling how long, oblong and delicate Bart’s fingers appeared to be, he didn’t notice his arm slipped to the small of Bart’s back. The tiny teen stepped on his leader’s blue TOMs and hooked both his arms around Dick’s shoulders. His stomach pressed against Dick’s own, and the look in green eyes was a little more than simply lewd.

It was amazing how Bart managed to flip the switch between bliss and arousal so easily; sometimes even blending the two together in casual conversation. But here, with mischief twinkling in his eyes and ears tingling pink with excitement, Dick knew he managed to keep at the same pace as the boy in front of him.

That in its own, being able to keep up with a speedster, was a talent. Bart’s eyes glimmered with all the heat and heaviness of the world, then contorted, like the little guy was asking himself, what shall I do with this now?

Dick had no problem lowering his head just slightly for Bart to reach his lips. The height difference between them was almost troublesome, but neither one seemed to notice. Bart had a ball comparing it to the height difference between Usagi and Mamoru and seemed to like dangling on limbs. There were certain…places the taller teen himself liked to reach, ways he liked Bart to straddle him that made this relationship all too pleasant.

He moaned softly, allowing Bart to suck on his lip, and ran his knuckles firmly down the speedster’s back. Dick took stumbling steps—carrying both Bart’s weight and his with their skin pulsing together. Bart clung to him needily, his hands clenching and fisting the front of Dick’s shirt and a sugary croon as his sloppy kisses pressed against the crook of the elder teen’s neck. When Bart pressed a kiss to the juncture of Dick’s neck, lips grazing at that tiny line where his jaw and ear met, Dick elicited a longer, drawn out moan. His hands found either side of Bart’s legs, hiking the teen higher and higher on his body.

When discovering such a pleasant sound, he could feel Bart grinning before the feathery touch of teeth grazed that same wet spot.

“You’re into it today,” Dick murmured. He caught Bart by the jaw and forced them into a clanging kiss. Bart tittered and undulated against him, fingers padding Dick’s thin v-neck. It was always true that the younger teen made most of the sexual advances—even before they were officially dating. Dick didn’t know when he would finally take his boyfriend seriously, but he knew that responding to one of these advances (on the rare occasion) meant he was telling Bart to jump and the response was, how high?

While one hand skillfully held Bart in place as they made clumsy steps out of the room, the other searched for bare skin, pulling up Bart’s thin long sleeve and cupping skin. He felt Bart gasp in his mouth, and made effort to grab the brunet by his bare thigh, if only to make him blush. It was one of their favorite past times; seeing who could make whom darker.

Suddenly, between rubbing up against the elder teen and exchanging spit Bart pulled away, leaping off of Dick altogether. His legs buckled, weak and fumbling and cheeks set ablaze. Emerald eyes were of a darker opacity and his breaths were warm. Bart’s hair stood up at different odds and ends, and the overall dazed expression made him nothing short of adorable.

They were lucky to be alone. By some twist of fate every soul in the premises was either knocked out on the couch from a successful move night or had turned to their quarters for the end of the evening. Wally said his goodbyes with Barry after (coincidentally) telling them not to do anything too extreme.

Dick didn’t plan to, he promised. It wasn’t a lie.

Still, Bart’s lips fumbled breezily and he raised a hand. “Hold that thought.” Zip!

A trail of clothes started at Dick’s feet. At first, a neon blue sock that touched his big toe through his own shoes, then a neon orange one. A pair of Reeboks littered the ground, one facing north and the other facing southeast, followed by pants—

Which was where Dick’s train of thought began putting two and two together. He hesitated—then picked up the laundry one-by-one, deciding that his teammates already had too much of a ball with his love life to begin with. One-by-one he picked up the garments that created a neat trail toward a guest bedroom at the very end of the hall. He tucked the socks in the shoes, slung Bart’s haplessly thrown pants over his shoulder, stuffed the shirt in his arm, then stopped at the foot of the door, where a pair of simple red boxers were on the ground, along with a classy door sign of Sailor Neptune and Sailor Uranus with the fancy scripture of, DO NOT DISTURB.

  Hum.

Dick’s heart throbbed in his chest. He opened the door (already unlocked; of course) slowly and was greeted graciously. Mood music from before even he was born played in the background. A rainbow assortment of candles—not necessarily scented—hung on the dresser, in the closet, at the foot of the bed, etcetera, while various weeds and flowers looking suspiciously from Miss Martian’s flowerbed were strewn onto the duvet.

Of course, tucked sweetly under the duvet, as relaxed as possible even for Dick’s standards was Bart, bare from head-to-toe with a pleasant blush and the slight tent that was very hard to miss.

Clothes still tucked in his arms, Dick closed the door behind him, amusement teeming in his features. “What’s this?”

He could have keeled over in cuteness, watching Bart’s lopsided/seductive smile as he bent over. A flush had worked its way from the tips of his cheeks down to his neck. “A romantic mood.”

“You have birthday candles sitting all across the room and Megan’s flowers at the bed. With the Back to the Future soundtrack playing from Wally’s iPod.”

Bart shrugged nonchalantly, moving his legs beneath the comforter and leaving much to imagination as he leaned into the bed frame. “Stripped before I thought about getting the flowers and the candles and stuff—didn’t think you would appreciate it if I suddenly showed up as the newest Speedster on the channel nine news—Streak. Plus, Marty McFly is hot!”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Dick mused.

“I’m a very considerate person,” Bart agreed. He licked his lips, and the duvet dipped low on his torso, pooling at his legs with little curls of brown becoming Dick’s new fixation. “So. We broke up.”

“We got back together.”

“And that calls for makeup sex.” By now, Bart was grinning like a madman, looking like a cross between horny and an eager scientist that hadn’t gotten enough skin in his days. It was almost a walking contradiction, how bluntly Bart just forwarded his question, and suddenly he was twisting under the blanket, his hand dipping to the unknown and the flush raising higher in Bart’s cheeks.

It was hard to find the line between comedic and hot—and also hard to find his voice. Dick stepped closer to the bed. He couldn’t deny the growing erection in his pants, or the fact he was suddenly holding those shoes tighter in his hands to keep his heart steady.

“We haven’t had makeup sex yet,” Bart murmured, his voice hoarse and deeper in a way the elder teen hadn’t known he could pitch it. He ran a hand up and down his chest—where Dick had seen plenty of times on and off the beach in several different contexts. “And I hear that’s the best kind.”

“Is that so?” Unabashed, Dick stared at his boyfriend, that annoying voice inside his head telling him to shut up and tackle.  

“Well—I don’t have much to compare to. None at all. Not even the opposite of makeup sex or like, lazy morning sex, which I hear is good too.” The natural cheeriness rang in his tone, and the bare Bart leaned forward, mewling. “But I want you to be my first.”

 Dick’s throat constricted. Softly, he managed an, “Oh.”

If it was ever possible for a person to look as shy as they were blunt, then Bart managed to do it. He had an extreme caliber of emotions and lay them out without fault. Sitting on the mattress now, fairly confident of his claim yet shoulders tense out of nervousness, Dick was reminded of their kiss in Palo Alto.

He kicked off his shoes, then climbed onto the bed, which dipped under his weight. Bart made room for him, allowing his leader at his side, and reached in for a welcomed kiss. Padding his fingers on the base of the speedster’s neck, Dick teased hair before pulling away, mind semi-fuzzy. Green eyes blinked curiously.

“No,” Dick said.

Blink. Blink blink. Blink blink blink. “What?”

“No,” the elder teen repeated, and this time he was confident when he found his voice. Before Bart’s ears could get any redder—mortified or angered or some combination of the two—Dick pulled Bart into his lap—bareness and all, and felt a little sadistic—especially since Bart looked closed to crying all over again.

“You don’t want me.”

“I want you.” Dick kissed Bart’s bangs, then stroked chocolate hair between his fingers. A pout formed across Bart’s face and he squirmed—Dick had to offer a quiet apology, knowing friction was a powerful enemy and, well, he couldn’t seem to stop moving. “But I want both of us to be ready when we have sex.”

A pointed look overtook Bart’s demeanor and he wriggled in Dick’s lap as if to do something. “I’m ready!”

“I’m not.” Sex could hurt; especially with a person who claimed they were emotionally ready when they clearly weren’t. In no way would Dick risk finding out if Bart was a masochist. Being on the receiving end of Bart’s glare of disbelief embarrassed him, but Dick was truthful. His cheeks were red and hands curled over Bart’s waist. “When we have sex, I…want to make you feel good. Amazing.” Thoroughly taken so even hyper-accelerated healing couldn’t hide away a good night of sex.

(He had a feeling if Tim looked at his thought process now—or hell, even Wally, he would wake up mysteriously in Cuba with a lethal-looking rash.)

As Bart started shivering, Dick grabbed the comforter and draped it over his boyfriend’s shoulders. Brown eyebrows knitted together, still unconvinced. “What about that kiss?”

Dick shrugged nonchalantly—it was a good kiss. However, it did not change the fact that they’d been together for two weeks—three, counting the week they were together after Bart’s accident. Without Bart constantly at his side, it was surreal remembering that they were together, and there was no denying they’d become a couple quickly. He wanted to savor every moment, to make sure every slow moment was carved in his boyfriend’s head. “Foreplay.”

“Ughh…you’re good at foreplay. Terribly good at it. And like, good with words because everything you say just sound like you’re about to sex me or something. Which is good.” Green eyes darted everywhere, the flush still evident in his cheeks, and he shuddered again. “You suck.”

Dick looked down Bart’s torso, unconsciously licking his lips. Maybe not penetration, but…“Is that why you’re still hard?”

“You make me very, very hard.” Bart’s voice was between a scold and a whine—not necessarily the typical naughtiness one would find in that sentence. However when it came to Bart, it usually had that affect on Dick.

“Okay,” the elder teen said. He threw Bart back onto the bed, allowing the shorter teen’s hair to mesh against the pillow, pinned him down, and proceeded with an enthusiastic kiss.

Bart wiggled free, making noises of surprise and eyes glossing in stun. He moved his head, eyebrow arched. “Okay?”

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Dick announced—maybe a little louder than he was comfortable with, and he silently wished there was a more eloquent way to say that to his very naked fifteen-year-old boyfriend as an equally horny eighteen-year-old. However, Bart thought nothing of it, only whimpering as Dick dipped low and wetly kissed his collarbone. “But—” He rolled his hips against Bart, the tips of his fingers grazing up Bart’s inner thigh and tickling sensitive skin. He grinned like an eager kid as Bart gasped and murmured softly, “that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make you feel good.”

“Oh…,” Bart managed, which morphed into a moan as Dick’s hand rubbed his nipple. “Oh—”

“So, what’s the score, Imp?” Dick grinned despite himself, his hand running firmly on the path beneath Bart’s navel before grabbing hold of a fervent erection. He kissed the space behind Bart’s ear, squeezing affectionately and pushing apart Bart’s legs for good measure. “If I remember…we weren’t even dating yet and somehow—”

“Y-You came in my hand,” Bart finished wantonly, flushed to a tee. He wriggled, gasping and writhing as Dick dared move at an agonizingly slow pace with kisses on his bare torso.

“Hmm?” Dick crooned, and he moaned himself as Bart’s hands clawed his shirt.

“W-We were…w-were stargazing a-and then we made out and…and I slipped my hand in your trunks while you were giving me th…that hickey a-and—” Bart’s breath hitched.

“Uhuh,” chirped the older teen. He rolled his hips, moving harder.

“And th-then…there was the h-hospital b—oh my god, Dick—ah…”

xxx

  A few hours later, Dick patted Kleenex tissues on the wet spots of Bart’s torso, arm pooled for Bart to lie on. Hands roamed his chest languidly—simply touching and pressing and prodding to actually feel another person rather than to ask for another round. Speedsters had a very small refractory period. Who knew. Bart’s eyes were half open, body like jelly in the elder teen’s grasp. Dick had the manners to grab boxers for the both of them, then threw the tissue wads in the nearby waste basket.

He kissed Bart serenely, and chuckled quietly when Bart murmured crash in his hair.

“That was good,” he said, words half slurred.

“Thank you.” Smiling shamelessly, Dick leaned in, locking blue eyes to green.

“That was very good,” Bart echoed, and his hands found their way on Dick’s hipbone. They smushed together, belly-to-belly. He breathed in the musky scent of sex and buried his nose in bare skin. “Like. Wow. Grife. Crash. I love you.”

“I love you too.” The elder teen swooped down and grabbed his boyfriend in a kiss. He meant it. He loved Bart. Neither one bothered to mention it was the first time they’d said it directly. The look in Bart’s eyes were worth a thousand more I-love-yous until he lost his voice, and every time those three words were spoken, they would only carry more meaning.

A hand pressed against Dick’s chest, firm and sweet, and touched his pulse. The smile was lazy, tied with brightness and warmth that heated Dick to the toes.

“You sir, are a very good masturbatory device,” Bart crooned, faking a British accent.

Smiling coyly, the drowsy leader didn’t protest when Bart regained part of his energy and lay on top of him. “Is that even a word?”

“Please! You’re the king of words.” Bart’s hands strummed his chest, still feeling and searching. There was the way he looked to Dick, with green eyes shining and head raised high that took Dick’s breath away all over again. Suddenly, it softened, and Bart leaned forward, chest-to-chest with him. Their noses touched, the sheen of their gazes bouncing off each other. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Dick ran a hand across Bart’s tan back and threw the sweaty duvet above them. He smiled, gaze fixated on the younger teen.

“You…” a brunet eyebrow stretched hesitantly. “You think we can last this time?”

Dick strained his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his beloved’s face. Once planted, he stared into green eyes firmly and readjusted himself. “I know it’s better not to think about it. And that I’d crash the mode with you any day.”

There hadn’t been a good time to mention it earlier; how Dick managed to catch part of the conversation Bart had with his cousin weeks ago. The way Bart shined despite all odds…that was what fascinated him. Just like the family he had in the future, Dick wanted to be part of it. He wanted to be Bart’s anchor, keep him together, and know that he had more than just family to run to.

He was never the best at words. Being put in a dress made him puke out his feelings like he was a thirteen-year-old kid all over again.

Green eyes glittered as though instantly reassured. Bobbing his head up and down, he pressed his chin to Dick’s chest, ears bashfully pink. “Right. Sorry. Speedster jitters. AndwhenIgetspeedsterjittersIget—I like you. I really like you. Like—”

The door opened. Of all the times Dick forgot to recite a lockdown code, Blue Beetle barged into the room, furious. “BART! Did you eat all of my Chicken Whizees aga—”

Blink. Blink.

“I’m going to walk out of this room now,” said the Hispanic teen slowly, his accent suddenly becoming thicker, “and forget I saw this.” SLAM.

The door slowly opened again.

“Uh, and—Superboy says it’s time for the mission.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Dick assured.

“Uh. Right.” The door slammed again, the whir of Blue Beetle’s wings buzzing in the hall and a cry of, “No! That’s weird, but they are not a threat! No they aren’t! No they—!”

Once the voice faded away, the couple was left in their own ministrations. Bart rocked on his boyfriend’s torso before falling to his back and whistling. “I should buy him some more Chicken Whizees.”

A laugh illuminated from the back of the elder teen’s throat. “I like you too, Bart.” He held Bart close, this time tangling fingers in his hair and squeezing tightly. “And I’m here for you. Right where I should be.”

A grin matched his own. In a blur of sparkle and red, Dick found a mask pressed to his face, with black Kevlar thrown in his direction. Impulse stared him in the face, goggles in all with arms at his side. “How long do you think it’ll take before the team knows?”

“Five seconds.”

“Yikes.” Bart kissed him happily, held a ‘V’ to his forehead, and grinned. “C’mon, Tuxedo Mask! We’ve got a beetle to shut up!”

Dick followed behind without a second thought.

  The End

He’d never told them this when they were younger, but date night was usually something Zee and he tried to avoid when it came to the other couple. It wasn’t that he didn’t love having Wally or Artemis around—it was when he had Artemis and Wally that he would sometimes worry.

As they got older, what Dick dealt with instead was Wally denying requests for one of them to join the team on a mission no matter how dire. There were incidences that drove Wally to the point where any time the word ‘mission’ or ‘duty’ was mentioned, he would glare and scowl.

Bart had been the one to change that.

With this fifteen-year-old speedster zipping across the states without a care in the world, enjoying everything that had to do with having a set of grandparents (two in this world), a group of friends, and being able to run kilometers without worry, Wally’s envy could be seen across the country. Dick had been the one constantly reassuring the elder speedster he was not replaced—but of course, Kid Flash reared his head only minutes later.

When Dick asked, Artemis admitted she didn’t mind. Wally looked…happy, for the first time in years. For the first time since quitting being Kid Flash.

“You won’t even know I’m here,” the redhead assured as he dropped his duffle bag onto the couch. “I have to study for finals anyway.”

“I’ll be at the Batcave,” Dick admitted. His living space was in the middle of being packed for his move to Bludhaven in a few short weeks. He’d meant to months ago before Batman and the other five leaguers unexpectedly went on the big mission, but Gotham felt safer with the teen trio here.

“Bats is coming back today, right?” Wally grinned broadly, despite himself and the situation. “Conner’s been buzzing about it to me. Well—you know, in the only way he can.”

“Conner’s speaking to you?” Dick held his breath at that mention. He hadn’t meant for it to come off as bitter as it sounded.

“Well—yeah.” A red eyebrow darted in the air as the ex-speedster dug for his textbooks. “I mean, he’s like you. He knows when a bro comes before family.”

Dick decided best not to mention how close Conner and Bart really were. After they’d broken up, Conner sported a bigger frown around the cave than he usually did. His best friend and his little-brother figure weren’t happy anymore.

Unfortunately, Wally didn’t share those same views.

This was where they were now, with Dick convinced his refrigerator would be empty by the end of the night and that Wally wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

“Dude, you okay?” the voice broke through his thoughts before he had the chance to catch them. For the first time all night, Wally’s face contorted into concern instead of excitement. Green eyes looked to his younger best friend, careful and…oddly, a little more like himself.

Dick hated the way his heart suddenly folded. “Yeah, man. I’m—I’m crash.”

xxx

    Despite his word, the next place Nightwing found himself was on the fire escape with a cell phone in hand. He perched against the ladder, gloves covered in grime and grease. At the angle he sat, red hair was easily in the corner of his eye. Wally busied himself on the couch, the more-than-perky enthusiasm replaced with seriousness as he delved into his books.

Dick waited one ring. Two rings, then the person on the other end finally picked up. “So he’s with you?”

  “Glad to know you’re on top of things,” Dick murmured hoarsely. He made his descent, leaping onto another building when he was sure green eyes were watching him, then stood on the roof of Flo’s Diner and Eatery.

Artemis laughed quietly—sweet but tired, and naturally Dick gave into his need to smile. Only slightly, though.

They had a sweet relationship; she and him. It had something to do with the only two teen heroes lacking in superpowers when they started out, and morphed into a tight brother-sister bond. After enough time, Artemis’s presence simply felt like another layer; another entity to Dick he would rather die than risk losing instead of just a comrade.

“I’m sorry,” was not what Dick expected to hear, but the apology was sincere in the blonde’s tone.

“What happened?” Dick asked. He stood tall and looked into the outskirts until he saw WayneTech. Blood pulsed through his cheeks. “He showed up at the cave dressed like Kid Flash and was holding a bouquet of flowers.”

“He must have eaten the chocolates,” she quipped.

“Arty.”

“Nothing. Relax, we’re fine. I…” Artemis held her breath. “We had a fight. I mean, I hopped onto the ImpWing love boat like the rest of the world. Then your little boyfriend—”

  “He’s,” Dick held his breath, “not my boyfriend—”

“Then your little boyfriend tried to break the fight up and said he straightened everything out. I know you, I know Wally, I know Barry. I know when the kid is lying his ass off.” Artemis snorted. “Anyway, he convinced Wally everything was tight, that you ‘chose Wally over him’ and said you’d accept him at any time.”

  Silence.

“That’s—” Dick’s breath hitched. “I…”

“Face it,” Artemis cut him off flatly, “that’s just how much the kid likes you.”

  Later that night, left only to his thoughts, Nightwing found himself swinging from rooftop-to-rooftop in order to keep himself busy. He almost fell on an old lady, who smiled wearily in his presence and poked him with her crooked umbrella.

Dwelling had been something he tried desperately to avoid since he was a kid. At eighteen, after almost a decade of work at Batman’s side, he knew how hard it could be. How…Bruce and he would still entered the Batcave with a foul taste in their mouths thinking of the death in their family, and how they promised themselves to look at Tim as a new light.

Trying to separate work and emotions was a notion he hated.

But in this situation, Nightwing mused as he landed on the rooftop of a Dunkin’ Donuts, there was not an official mission involved. And—he shivered. Yeah. There were things Bart worried about, the way his eyes shuddered and expression dulled with fear at the mention of certain things, but that wasn’t what attracted him to Bart.

Really—no matter what façade and the front Bart put up, there was no denying the joy in his face for being in this decade. His eyes brimmed with happiness, even when he knew Wally wanted to hit him over the head, and his lips curled into a mischievous grin. His infectious laughter made Dick’s chest swell with giddiness.

He tried not to dwell. Didn’t, whenever Zatanna and he broke up. Forced himself not to, when he realized those feelings for Wally and knew that he never made a move.

Splaying his hand against the plaster beneath him, Dick inhaled the scent of dust, burning neon lights, and a faint smell of musty coffee. To his surprise on a night like this, not very many criminals decided to do something stupid. He would even guess that plenty crooks were growing bored without the pee-your-pants Dark Knight looming over the city. Half the creeps in Gotham would get some sick joy out of screwing with Batman.

Shuddering, he decided not to delve in those thoughts. Besides—the knot in his stomach made it hard to breathe. Between controlling Wally and understanding Bart, Dick wasn’t sure where he stood. He was tired of looking at a teammate with hollow eyes and an empty smile. And…not looking forward to come home that night and see the eagerness in another set of green eyes over a sickeningly pleasant grin.

Dick stood there for ages, mounted to the edge of Dunkin’ Donuts roof and staring off to the building of Gotham Academy.

He really must have been feeling the mode. The next thing the poor acrobat found himself doing was reminiscing on his times there. Artemis had give him a hard punch in the nose when she found out he’d been the dorky kid trailing her at school for so long. She was also the final reason for Babs to pick up on crime-fighting—which was also a good punch in the arm. They punched him often. Still punched him often.

Still, memories like that felt like they’d happened ages ago. It’d only been a year since he graduated from Gotham Academy and the feeling of joy that used to captivate his entire world…felt small. Too small to see. Too small to remember that it was once there and very much concrete.

That was the feeling of growing up too soon. He wondered what age Bart was, when that happened to him, too.

“I could really use a good dose of aster right now.” With a heavy sigh, Dick fell back onto the rooftop and allowed his sight to be given up to the stars.

“Master Richard?” Alfred’s voice echoed with a hint of mechanism.

Against his comm..-link, Dick pressed an infinitesimal smile. “Yeah, Alfy?”

“If you are done brooding, I would like to tell you that Robin and Impulse require your assistance at Gotham Academy.” Hm. Go figure.

“You’ve got it, buddy.”

xxx

  Dick recalled a few days ago Robin volunteering for a mission involving Gotham Academy and the mysterious illnesses of students. He was about to volunteer an assist, but the scheming look in Tim’s eyes told him to do otherwise. Tim had a brilliantly meticulous way to do things with stunning execution. Whatever he’d concocted for the night, Dick was wholeheartedly willing to find out.

Anyone who could find out the identity of the original Batman and Robin, have the balls to put on that suit, and could hold up his own in a paintball fight was good on Dick’s list. Plus, he didn’t eat out Dick’s fridge like Wally did.

Creeping along the walls didn’t last long. Once Nightwing got within a hundred yards of the campus, he noticed the sparkly gold banner hanging outside the main building that clearly said: GOTHAM ACADEMY PROM, 2016.

The pavement quaked and trembled from something sounding distinctly like the Cupid Shuffle. Nightwing would have amused himself with the thought of Robin actually dancing, but never had the chance. Teenagers streamed out of the gymnasium in mass hysteria, adorning classy tuxedos, some slacks, and all assortments of ball gowns that made Dick cringe.

“Robin,” he said into his comm.-link. “I am at your location. Where are yo—?”

A corner of the gymnasium rooftop exploded—probably from a grenade. That would be where.

Instead of fretting about stealth and sneaking into the situation, Nightwing launched himself into a full-out run. He grabbed his grappling gun and climbed the side of the gymnasium. Through the gaping hole, he could see tables and chairs that had been flipped over through panicked partygoers. The three disco balls the school would set up were now reduced to one and a half, with the third one rolling about on the other side of the gymnasium.

Robin stood in the middle at a stand-off with Scarescrow.

Before even twitching, Dick had his eyes glued onto the situation. The first rule of being a bat meant standing aside in case the second bat already had a plan. Second rule—always have a plan. And right now, even with the newest member of their family, Nightwing knew better than to overlook the circumstance. Tim’s stance was tense, but from what he could tell, they were talking.

From behind Scarecrow, a blur had picked up around the obnoxious ornament, which suddenly hovered three feet above the air in a tiny tornado. That had to be Bart.

With the music so loud he doubted Scarecrow could hear. Impulse skidded to a stop, and the disco ball torpedoed in the crook’s direction. (There was something off in the way Bart held himself together, but Nightwing’s attention remained on the situation, his stomach clenching in uneasiness.)

Scarecrow howled, being hit over the head by a disco ball going 300mps, and it gave Robin time to butt the man with his bo stick. A hit to the jaw and Scarecrow doubled back, tripped over Bart’s high heel, then falling to the ground with a groan.

Nightwing’s heart padded gently in his chest. He took in the sight, examining every aspect of the gym with careful detail. It wasn’t until a minute passed that his stomach finally settled in the right place, relieved.

“Good job, Rob.” The words echoed to no one in particular.

Then the trick move happened. Scarecrow’s entire body reanimated, and he struck to his feet, arms elongated to slap around Impulse—a syringe in one claw. Robin shouted something at the top of his lungs, but Nightwing was faster.

He flung a batarang in Scarecrow’s direction, watched from the corny of his eye as it exploded into ice around their foe, and landed at a crouch. Scarecrow cried in agony as the ice climbed his skin, and in a matter of seconds there was nothing left but a sculpture.

“Nightwing!” Impulse shou…ted.

This time, knowing that Scarecrow wasn’t going to surprise attack either of the younger teens, Nightwing was able to get a better look at Impulse—who at this very moment, Dick wasn’t quite sure how he managed to identify the speedster as…Impulse.

Imp wore a dress. Not necessarily a modest one, either. Though…not necessarily the type of sexy that one usually regarded if they decided to use the word…’sexy.’  Dick’s throat went dry, taking in the scene quite numbly. “Um.”

He looked like a fairy. While Dick admittedly was no stranger to crossdressing for a mission, he’d never seen something so…ridiculous. Only Bart would be wearing a sparkly purple dress fit for a fairy princess. His skirt reminded the Young Justice leader of a five-year-old little girl’s—large and abrasive so it was impossible to fit through a door, with sequins and glitter sewn into a dazzling material. The bodice was presumably tight around Bart’s torso, thick and tight over a feminine figure he didn’t actually have, with a sea green sheer around his shoulders.

A brown wig adorned Bart’s head, matching the shade of his natural hair perfectly and tapering down one of the speedster’s shoulders in an ocean of ringlets—green and purple glitter splashed all over it. His makeup was ridiculous—particularly, whether it was outrageously amazing or horrific, Dick wasn’t quite sure. Multi-colored eyeliner adorned his green eyes, with hot-pink eye-lashes, a caked, sanguine blush and ruby red lipstick.

It was a matter of more than a few seconds before the shock wore off on Dick’s face. He wasn’t quite sure what kind of sound was coming from the back of his throat.

Hot pink eyelashes blinked half a dozen times, and ruby red lipsticks spread into a cheerful grin. There was a smudge of lipstick on Bart’s teeth. “Oh, do you like it? Robin let me do it!”

The moment he said that, Dick whirled his head to his successor, mouth still wide and an eyebrow arched.

Unfortunately for him, Tim was doing the same thing, seeming less amused as his current partner in crime. He crossed his arms, and unlike Impulse, was dressed properly in his uniform—save the bowtie. “Scarecrow was feeding the student body and teachers with fear gas in order to drive them insane. He planned to turn Gotham Academy into his new storage facility for his hallucinogen, and release the chemical tonight at the prom.”

Once regaining control over the situation, Nightwing nodded. Well. Not actually in control. “Good work.”

“Until the end,” Robin replied grimly. His lips tightened into a frown and he coiled his hands into fists. “We were careless and thought he was knocked unconscious. Impulse and I would have been goners if you hadn’t shown up.”

Just from the tone of his voice, Dick knew Robin would be dwelling on this for a while. He placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Hey. No one is blaming you for it. You did good work just now, and there are three of us that have your back. Me, Batman, and Batgirl.” He was just glad to come before something terrible happened.

Bart tittered, hooking arms enthusiastically with his partner. “Four, if you count me, Robby!”

This was a Kodak moment. Bart, the Speedster Fairy Princess, was going arm-in-arm with the most serious Robin known to mankind. Dick had to stifle his own laughter. Still looking unconvinced, Tim looked to both parties before sighing.

“Okay. You’re right.”

“Naturally,” Nightwing hummed. He steadily walked over and handcuffed Scarecrow before informing Alfred to call the GCPD. All the while, Bart seemed to be babbling and zipping around the place as a hyperactive child given too much caffeine. Dick would have been lying if he said the actions didn’t amuse him. He looked to the teens expectantly, gesturing to the pretty one. “So…do you want to give an explanation for this?”

Tim twitched. “Not. Really.”

Bart grinned and twirled in his dress. A cloud of glitter shimmered in his path. “I wanted to go in the same dress as Princess Serenity, but Tim said it would be too gaudy.”

This time, Dick did laugh. A sweet one that hurt his chest from too much amusement. “Really now?”

“It was for an undercover mission,” Robin defended quickly. “And Bart—Bart…decided he wanted to wear a dress.” That last part disappeared into a mumble.

“He rejected the first ten designs, then promised he’d take the last one so long as I didn’t make him sit through another fashion show.” Bart grinned charmingly. Bits of sparkles stuck to his lips. “Dresses are crash! Why don’t guys wear them all the time here?”

Help, said Tim’s face.

“I don’t know,” Dick mused. He crossed is arms, giving Bart another look-over. He may have been wrong, but in his presence, Bart glowed brighter.  He wore lace pantyhose, which matched the color of his hot pink eyelashes with some weird floral design, and something that appeared to be a pair of go-go boots from the eighties. “Did you do your own makeup?”

“Stephanie helped a little bit.” Bart beamed.

“Steph?”

“Robin’s girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Tim interrupted. He pressed a hand to his face, cheeks suddenly becoming redder than his uniform.

“Yeah, she is,” the pair said in unison.

“Hahaha,” Dick snickered—

Police sirens whirred through the campus of the school, sounding and squealing off the walls. Looking to Tim immediately, they both nodded and grabbed their grappling gun. What Nightwing didn’t expect was for Robin to shove Impulse in his direction, sparkles and all.

Scatterbrained, Impulse raised an eyebrow under his curls. “What’s going o—”

“Police are coming,” Dick said immediately. He strapped a hand around Bart’s waist…once he found it, beneath sequins and itchy lacy material. Hiking Bart onto one of his boots, Nightwing tied a hand over his gun and let it fly.

Bart’s hands found themselves tugging on his Kevlar. “But I can just—”

“No time.” Dick made sure to grab Tim’s eyes, a frown on his face. If he thought the Robin didn’t catch his eye, he was wrong.

They rendezvoused on one of the buildings meant for sophomores. Police cars surrounded the campus, focused vitally at the scene of the crime and gathering teenagers that had witness or endured the incident. Usually, Nightwing had no problem speaking with Commissioner Gordon. However, with a disco ball for a boyfri—speedster in one hand, and the propaganda regarding vigilantes as aliens, it was also becoming harder to stay in plain sight and be trusted by the public.

That was where they were now, watching one Commissioner Gordon look to the sky and search for the Bats that gifted him with the villain in question until the man silently mouthed ‘thank you’ beneath the moon. They all watched in silence. Even Bart.

“Is…that Oracle’s dad?” he asked tentatively. The trio had crumbled into a crouching position in order to avoid policemen.

“Batgirl’s,” both Nightwing and Robin mumbled. Judging by the lack of reaction from Robin, Dick had a feeling Tim had gotten used to Imp’s occasional outbursts of the future. From the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny smile quirk across Bart’s lips—simple and happy.

They stood up, dusting off the dirt from the front of their uniform. Impulse snickered.

“You have glitter all over you,” he chirped, then promptly zipped around the teenager. Bart stopped after the third examination, then latched onto Nightwing’s back. “Including your butt.”

“I don’t think you climbing on me helps the situation.” Grinning, Dick jerked and heard a relevant squeal to his left. “You wanna get it off?”

“Is that such a good idea?”

“I thought you were a good judge of butts.”

“I’m a very good judge of butts.”

Another audible laugh tingled in Dick’s throat. This time, he maneuvered them, hands secure on Bart’s legs as the speedster now clung to him from the front. Dick inhaled the terrible scent of too much hairspray and Bath & Body Works’s Japanese Cherry Blossom, and still, couldn’t help his spout of laughter. Somewhere in it, he was pretty sure he snorted.

To his benefit, Bart wasn’t one to be easily stricken down. He joined Dick in a fit of laughter, giggling in his ear. “So, do you like my makeup?”

“I think,” Dick sighed, close to tears, “I like you better with pants.”

He’d walked straight into that one. Green eyes glinted mischievously, looking the slightest bit evil under the moonlight. Bart’s legs tightened around his leader’s hips and a heavy smile fell across his ruby-colored lips. “You so sure about that?”

No, Dick didn’t say. From the corner of his eye, he could see Tim giving him the usual baffled look whenever Impulse was the subject matter. It looked like a mix between wanting to rip the ex-Robin’s head off and wanting to disappear from the face of the planet as soon as possible. For Tim’s sake, and remembering this behavior was probably not suited post-breakup, he let himself ease into reality. The smile faded just slightly, in time with Bart’s as he remembered the uneasiness in their situation too.

Unlike Tim, however, Bart’s gaze was fixated on another corner of the building. Through just his mask alone, Dick could barely make out the blurred black figure that sped around campus and onto the rooftop. Nightwing’s heart sank, and Impulse grew amazingly quiet.

“Hey!” Kid Flash slowed down as he hopped onto the top of the roof. Green eyes scanned the three of them, stopping particularly on Bart. “Is…everyone okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Dick arched an eyebrow.

It shouldn’t have annoyed him as much as it did as KF smiled and pointed thumb to himself. “I got your message asking for Impulse and Robin’s coordinates, then you didn’t say anything again. Called Alfy, and he told me you were at Gotham Academy.  Had to scour the whole campus before I finally found you.”

Right. All audio messages relayed through the comm.-link circled back to Dick’s apartment, just in case one of the Bats or even a leaguer was restrained or held captive during one of their missions. Still, that didn’t answer Dick’s main question. “And you just happened to have your uniform on you.”

A red eyebrow cocked in the air, gaze narrowing sequentially to Nightwing. “I was wearing it when you and I met up.” Ah. Another set of green eyes suddenly stared very closely to the dark-haired leader—too close for comfort. “I figured I’d take it with me just in case you got in trouble. You know—speedster back up since I’m crashing at your place.”

“Crash,” Dick repeated. Though the double-meaning in the word let him see the discouraged look on Bart’s face from the corner of his eye.

Bart pulled out of Dick’s arms, standing on his own two feet and gripping Tim by the shoulder. Wally, Bart, and he hadn’t been in the same room together since the night Bart broke up with him. It wasn’t calming his nerves having Tim stand nearby.

Silence.

“So…” Wally made gestures with his hands, looking at his ridiculously-dressed cousin thrice over, then to Tim, then to Dick again. The way the redhead’s eyebrows contorted, Dick wondered if his irritation about this circumstance between the cousins was finally obvious. “Where…is my cousin, exactly?”

“You’re looking at him,” Tim voiced. He shook his arm—probably to shake his friend off, but Bart wouldn’t budge. Looking at him now, Dick couldn’t decipher the expression on the younger speedster’s face. Sadness? Detachment? Whatever it was, Dick’s chest clenched.

Wally blinked, staring t the ‘girl’ in front of him—from the glittery brown hair to the sparkly sequined bodice, lacey neon pantyhose and go-go boots. “Oh,” he said simply. Then—“Oh! Bart!” Had he not been feeling so sick, Dick would have found the reaction hilarious. Kid Flash’s face twitched back and forth between Robin and his cousin, eyebrows high beneath his hairline and mouth ajar. “Bart?”

“He wanted to wear a dress,” Dick said simply.

“Princess Serenity,” Bart agreed solemnly. “I had the gems for my hair, but Tim said no.”

Dick bit the inside of his mouth to hold back a snigger. Bart must have sensed this—his eyes seemed a little brighter.

“So…this was the alternative?” Kid Flash gestured to his cousin, still blinking wryly and in disbelief. Robin had clearly given up on a proper explanation, simply sighing and staying put. “You two dating or something?” He made gestures between Bart and Tim.

Another blink. Dick felt his jaw slacking, watching the pure folly in Wally’s expression like it was the most casual question in the world. He could tell both Tim and Bart were taking in his expression carefully. Bart answered.

“No. But we were planning on having a movie night.” He tugged on one of his ringlets, green eyes twinkling under the stars. “I say we get another mani-pedi.”

“No,” Tim spoke idly.

“Awwww.”

“You two already argue like you’re an old married couple.” Wally clicked his tongue, amused, then ran a hand through his hair. His attention turned to the gaping hole in the gymnasium and the firemen and policemen who were rolling out the disco balls and excavating the school for any fear bombs. A laugh tingled in his throat. “Should have figured the distress call would have traced back to this school, man. Always does.”

Despite the swelling frustration and annoyance in Dick’s chest, he allowed himself to relax. Only enough to remember the same things Wally was as he examined the damage. “Yeah. You’re right, aren’t you?”

“Remember when Professor Ivo and Amazo were the ones in the gymnasium?”

“And Superboy demolished half my school?” Dick snorted. Of course he did. It had taken a month before the news stopped talking about it. For some reason, reported the perky news lady, Bruce Wayne offered a generous donation plus a bonus in order to make repairs. Despite the leader’s insistence that it wasn’t a big deal, Superboy still felt bad for contributing to the wreckage of the school.

Wally sniggered, kicking at a rock. “I used to come up every day when I was still in high school to steal your fries.”

“Even then you’d get mad if I didn’t bring a doggy bag back to the cave for you.” Dick’s eyes fell onto Tim and Bart, who stood idly by and were trying their best to go unnoticed. He wasn’t sure why Bart hadn’t simply swept Tim up and left for another crazy Friday night adventure.

Instead, the said speedster rocked on his gogo boots. “So…you’re staying with DeeGee for the time being?”

The redhead blinked. “’DeeGee’?”

“Dick.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah.” Rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish look fell across Wally’s face. The older pair exchanged looks—one strangely calm and the other oddly finicky. Suddenly Wally refused to make eye contact with the other speedster, and found interest in a stain on his boot. “At least until Artemis cools down. She was pretty backwards about the situation—finds it pretty ridiculous that Wing would choose me over…you know, anyone.”

He rolled his eyes for emphasis, clearly trying to make a joke out of the situation. He also didn’t succeed.

It caught both of them off guard when Tim spoke up. “Dick isn’t one to make tough decisions without weighing the consequences. He’d go with the one that he felt made the most sense—or try to delay it.”

“The one that I’d have my heart in,” Dick muttered in agreement. He looked down to the corner of his eye and saw Bart’s eyebrows furrow. They’d yet to talk about the lie Bart told Artemis and Wally in order to force Dick and his best friend together. And by now, Bart should have understood just how strongly the elder teen felt for him. Anyone would. The whole team certainly felt the need to meddle.

Still—Bart tucked his hands behind him and drew a breath. “You should probably talk to her then. Ilikeher.”

This time, those beautiful green eyes refused to look his leader in the face. His hands were fisted tightly into the sides of his dress, like Bart was trying hard not to say the wrong thing. Dick took pity on him—sort of. He placed a firm hand on Bart’s shoulder, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by other parties, and squeezed it tightly. It would have felt more natural to pull Bart into his own weight and place a hand over his hips. “Bart’s right. Make sure she knows that we don’t want to be the reason why you two are arguing.”

“Uh. Right.” Beneath his mask, Wally’s eyes were glued to the quiet gesture Dick had made, a peculiar look on his face. Shaking his head, he looked back to his cousin and straightened up. “Since you’re here though, you and I should talk. Alone.”

The idea made Bart’s eyes widen, bewildered. It looked silly with his hot pink eyelashes and glitter, but then the pair zipped off to the other side of the building, caught up in their mumblings.

The first thing to happen was the sparkly whirlwind Bart surrounded himself in. In a few short seconds, Fairy Princess Impulse had changed into regular Impulse, the gogo boots, wig, and dress hanging neatly on a set of hangers. He looked back to normal, save the hot pink eyelashes and makeup so gaudy that Dick could still see it beneath the speedster’s goggles. Bart and Wally spoke quietly to one another, sometimes nodding and once or twice, even looking back to Nightwing and Robin.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Tim’s voice snapped Dick out of his thoughts.

Giving his successor his full attention, Dick shrugged half-heartedly. “Apparently I light up whenever I’m around him. We’re miserable without each other.” His throat constricted, voice losing its vigor. “You’ve told me that. So’s Babs…even Alfred, and the team, but…” He wasn’t going to do anything if Bart was this scared.

Bart knew Dick wanted to be with him. And Dick was pretty sure Bart wanted to be with him, too. However, until Bart felt secure enough about their situation, Dick knew nothing was going to come out of it. He’d force himself to be content with their current situation, no matter how much it was killing him.

“When you two talk,” Tim said quietly, “it’s like the rest of the world disappears around you.”

That made Dick’s throat clench. “Oh.”

“You’re crazy, you know. Thinking that letting him do this is okay.”

“I know.”

“And he’s crazy for letting you get away like that,” Tim also said simply. “But he gets upset whenever I mention it.”

A short breath came from the back of Dick’s throat. If he had pockets, he would have hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands in them like a preteen again. Instead, he smiled quietly and touched shoulders with the new Robin. “Thanks for being so supportive.”

It made him happy to get a smile out of the other teen. Robin rubbed his arm, then arched an eyebrow under his mask. “I also think you’re crazy for thinking he looks sexy in that dress.”

Blink. “But I never—” He lost that argument there when Robin’s expression remained stiff and only somewhat amused. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Dick rubbed his neck and looked in a different direction, deciding that the bird perched on the school’s Old Time bell was a lot more interesting than this conversation. It wasn’t his fault that the lacey pantyhose were complimentary to Bart’s ass…ets. “Oh-kay. Awkward Robin-to-Robin bonding is over.”

Finally the conversation on the other end of the building came to a close. Bart and Wally finished up before sauntering to the other pair at a human speed. Wally looked to Dick, confirming they were done.

“So what’s up?” Dick crossed his arms.

Wally shrugged. “The boys are gonna grab a movie on the other side of the country. Something about a cooler IMAX theatre or something. I wanted to know how everyone was doing in Central City and…well, that’s it.” He looked between Bart and Dick again, his expression contorting thoughtfully.

Consequently, Bart patted his makeup-covered face, collecting glitter as he did so. “Something on my face? “

Wally made a face. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Okay then. Bye cousin,” Bart chirped. He turned to Dick, expression tapering faintly. Dick could feel the pain as it hovered in Bart’s eyes. “Bye, DG.”

Gulping, Dick barely regarded the hand on his shoulder, nor Tim’s own awkward salute, as Bart supported Tim’s weight and dashed off. He waited until they were out of seeing distance before he muttered a goodbye of his own.

The hand on his shoulder moved—barely enough to get the teen’s attention. Wally leaned in, concern mixing across his face. “You okay, man?”

No, Dick didn’t say. “Yeah.”

“Good. You…still have glitter all over your ass, dude.”

xxx

  “Where’s Robin?” Batman asked that night. He was already in the Batcave getting reacquainted with the data the remaining Leaguers and the team had gathered while the Six had been away.

“Welcome back.” It would be like Bruce, Nightwing mused lightly, to know when he entered the cave. He made mental notes to challenge the security system and one day surprise his old mentor. That would be a good challenge for when he was bored. “He’s out with one of the new rookies on the team.”

“Oh?”

“Bart Allen. Flash’s grandson from the future. He goes by Impulse.” When the light padding of the keyboard stopped, Nightwing waltzed toward the Dark Knight, who was now pulling up all known files of ‘Bartholomew Henry Allen the Second.’ “You’ve missed a lot.”

“I can see that.” The computer began to pull up a compilation of pictures of Bart—news clippings of a speedster out in Central City and other various places, some family pictures and—and one of Dick and Bart.

He hadn’t even known the picture had been taken. They lay there as a couple in Bart’s hospital bed, an unmasked Dick’s head tucked in Bart’s shoulder and a hand strapped protectively over the brunet’s torso. Bart was content—maybe even drooling a little on Dick’s ear, and had his free leg curled around one of the elder teen’s. Someone (Batgirl) had snuck into the medical wing sometime the day after Bart received his cast to take this picture, then (Babs) had put it in the database.

This time, Batman turned around, his tone of voice reminding Dick dimly of when he was a kid. “Should I ask?”

And just like a kid, Dick hardly shrugged. “I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

“Does Barry know?”

“He approved.”

That elicited a grunt or two. Bruce simply returned to catching upon data. “Just don’t hurt the kid or let it interfere with your work. Okay?”

He was sure that the World’s Greatest Detective had deduced what happened in the situation. Or…therelackof, considering they were barely together for even a week. Realizing that, Nightwing only nodded, then leaned in to help his mentor. “So, this is what we’ve gathered about the Kroloteans—here, and here…”

xxx

The next time he saw Bart hadn’t been very far from the Scarecrow incident. Dick had taken the matters into his own hands—when it came to Artemis and Wally, that was. He called Artemis, who was enjoying a Girl’s Night with the girls from the team and begged that she let the matter between Bart and him be dropped. As expected, Artemis only laughed in his face—and so did a few other girls. Dick realized Dignity was going to be a faraway friend until everyone calmed down on the matter of Bart and him.

After only one night with Wally, he didn’t have the willpower to keep his frustration hidden. He missed Bart. He missed being with Bart, being able to keep his heart in one place and actually get excited to see someone and know they could be together. But he wasn’t going to force Bart into a relationship. For them to be together again, Bart needed to be the one who made that decision.

Hopefully it sounded less gushy whenever he said it over the phone. Nevertheless, the voices at the other end had grown quiet. Artemis didn’t like it, but she agreed for their sake.

After three days, that was. According to Artemis, if Dick was stupid enough to believe he couldn’t get Bart back, then he could spare a few days with Wally—something he didn’t tell the redhead. That being beside the point, Wally was finally back at home and the following Saturday, Dick came over to force the couple to get along.

So far after five minutes, the house was still intact. Dick hovered in the kitchen, assisting Wally as he prepared dinner for the three of them that night, and Artemis sat casually on a kitchen stool doing some homework. As far as everything went, Dick couldn’t see anything wrong. Other than the fact they barely talked to each other.

“You two…agreed to disagree on this…right?” Unsure, the teen looked between both his best friends, a grimace on his face. Artemis looked up, then shrugged.

“Sure,” Wally said finally. “Babe, did you get the green onions?”

“The fridge is full for the day,” Artemis confirmed, still invested in her homework. She set her pencil down, rested her head in a hand, then eyed Dick. “You know, the school year is ending soon. You took a year off to focus on crime-fighting. You really sure you’re not gonna try it in the fall?”

“If I do, it won’t be an ultimatum.” Dick smiled at the arched eyebrow given from a redhead, then leaned against the counter. Dick Grayson: Also known as Nightwing—the first Robin, the leader of Young Justice, and the right hand to the Dark Knight. Not to mention part-time college student.

“You invest so much time in the team and being Nightwing, bro. If it weren’t for these visits, I’d think you never had personal life.” Wally stirred the makings of what was starting to look like fried rice and poked it with a pair of chopsticks.

“He did have one.”

“Aw, babe—please don’t start.”

Dick sighed audibly, and luckily that was the end of the conversation. Artemis tutted, then returned to her school work. Wally, he’d understood as the week was coming to the end, was becoming aware just how personally Dick taken the break up. Bart’s name tended to come up like jabbing a wound every time Dick was present. Wally’s face scrunched and he passed a weird look whenever that happened.

Faintly, Dick wondered exactly what Artemis had done to her boyfriend in the few days the couple had reunited. He had a feeling it wasn’t pretty.

“Sorry,” grumbled the very same couple.

Lacking the energy to summon a response, Dick simply leaned back in his position. He was suddenly less hungry than he was a moment ago.

WOOSH

At the next instant, the door burst open with a hyperactive blur zipping around the living room, the island counter—then halted into Bart in front of Artemis. Bart’s lips were graced with a grin, a spoonful of fried rice in one hand and a corsage in another.

“Hey!” Wally scowled.

“Could use a little more soy sauce.” Licking his lips, Bart stuffed the spoon in his mouth and turned to Artemis. “Do I look okay?”

She nodded, pushing her textbook and notebook away with a smile. A look of approval passed over her eyes and she readjusted the front of Bart’s blazer. “You look spiffy, cutie.”

“Spiffy and cute. Spute!” Bart chirped wildly. When Dick caught his eye, the expression wavered, and he turned around to get a better look at his leader. Considering what Dick had seen Bart wear only a week before, he actually chuckled. Nice and prim, Bart wore a black tuxedo fitted to his height along with a bowtie that matched the color of his corsage. The only thing even slightly out of place was the Wizard of Oz button pin on the collar of his dress shirt.

“You look nice,” Dick said before Bart could ask.

The way Bart glowed was worth it. “Of course I do. I’m spute.”

“Decided not to go undercover as the girl this time?” the older teen mused, a smile coiling over his lips. It kind of just happened that way. Any time Bart came close, he just couldn’t help a grin.

“She looked prettier in the dress,” Bart assured. “And…actually, I’m taking Cissie to prom.”

Dick’s smile dropped.

“Wait, what?” Wally broke into the scene, putting both the chopsticks and spatula down in order to get a better ear in the conversation. He blinked multiple times, the amazement unhidden on his face. “Cissie. You mean sweet little Cissie who lives the floor down with her lunatic mother?”

“Cissie’s sixteen,” Artemis pointed out wryly. She eyed Dick, but there was no pity—just a strange mix of amusement and interest then looked back to Bart, who seemed ignorant about the elder teen’s reaction. “She’s perfectly armed and ready to go out on a date with Bart.”

“Armed,” repeated the redhead, deadpanned.

“Armed.” The blonde nodded and admired her boyfriend’s cousin in his tuxedo. “You even combed your hair back. It looks…funny.”

Fumbling into a smile, Bart mussed and shook a hand through his hair until it looked tousled and unruly—like it normally did after the kid ran across the country. He rocked on his feet. “She calls me Scarecrow. Isn’t that funny? Since, you know—we went up against Scarecrow and all, even though there weren’t any crows around him? Hey! Why don’t they make Scaredoves? I bet they poop on as many cars as crows do—?”

“Does she call you Scarecrow,” Wally interrupted warily, “because you don’t have a brain when you talk?”

Bart’s rhythm of speech froze at that point. He arched an eyebrow inquisitively, almost wondering if it were an insult, then he grinned. “Well, it was either that or Toto. I can’t fit inside a basket.” He looked around to all three of them, clearly pleased with himself until those emerald green eyes met blue.

“Armed!” Wally continued. “What do you mean by armed?” He was promptly ignored.

A small smile etched across Dick’s lips, tight and uncomfortable. “Better a Scarecrow than the Tinman, I guess.”

The brunet hummed. “Why?”

“Because you already have too much heart.”

The stun on Bart’s face was worth the line. Replacing the silliness and whim from his demeanor was a look of surprise, brown eyebrows peaked between their hairline. Slowly, a blush painted its way across Bart’s face, and his entire stature slackened. Watching this, Dick only smiled; wry and honest.

Not even Wally said a word to this scene.

“Have a fun time,” Dick murmured. Undeterred, he reached over and kissed Bart sweetly on the cheek.

In return, Bart’s eyes had widened—beautiful, wistful, and very much taken offguard. His body phased in and out as a blur, hand nearly dropping the corsage. When he snapped out of his daze, he stumbled toward the door, nearly tripping over the Crock-West canine. “I um. I…I-I better get going.”

Wally and Artemis quietly said their goodbyes, watching silently as the speedster disappeared through the front door and descended down the stairs.

“If it helps,” Artemis iterated once they were sure Bart wasn’t coming back, “She confessed to Bart once that she used to have a die-hard crush on the first Robin.”

“It helps,” Dick assured.

After monitoring the pair for most of the night, Dick decided to give it a rest. Artemis was a little too emotionally invested with making sure he was okay, and Wally had taken to staring at his popcorn and making sure no kernel went unpopped.  Gathering the things he brought, Dick walked over to the door and said goodbye.

“Bye,” Artemis said.

“See you.” Wally waved.

With a half-hearted smile, Dick waved back and exited through the door. To find Bart stargazing by himself.

He stopped for a moment, taking in the scene and wondering if he’d been duped. Dick had already shut the door. Artemis was in the middle of Skyping her mother when he left, and Wally—well, any speedster with food in front of them would be distracted for the next ten minutes.

Bart didn’t seem to notice him.

Hesitating, he stared at the brunet carefully from the back, whose head tilted upward and allowed the stars to blanket him. Then, Dick crept forward and settled quietly next to the speedster. “Hey.”

Green eyes blinked, animating under the moonlight. They focused onto the taller teen, then were accompanied by a weary smile. Bart had the same look on his face that he did all those months ago when they were stargazing on the beach of Mount Justice. “Hey, DeeGee.”

“Fun night?” It was wistful and wondrous—beautiful. Dick leaned back on the steps and emitted a creak beneath him.

“Crash.” Nodding casually, the speedster gestured to the backyard where for the first time, Dick noticed someone was handling a bow and arrow against ten targets. Evidently Cissie, she was built like an agile athlete with blond curls pulled back into a complicated hairdo and wore a sparkly red dress. “Cissie’s a fun date. Shot an arrow at the cake I was eating while we were at the prom.”

“So are you two still hanging out?”

“No.” Bart shook his head and fumbled with his fingers. Pink accentuated his cheeks and he shrugged. “I just like stargazing whenever I’m on top of Artemis and Wally’s staircase. S’why I come here so often.”

That made a lot of sense. Looking to the sky above them, Dick felt his nerves disappear along with Bart’s. “You…like watching them because they haven’t changed very much in forty years. Am I right?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see green looking impressed and sweet. “Yeah,” Bart breathed. His hands curled into his knees and he leaned against the railing. Secretly, Dick wished that Bart would lean against him.

He decided to ask the obvious question.

“You and I…” Dick bit the inside of his mouth, watching Bart tense. “I know it’s been a month since we broke up. And…we didn’t go out very long, but…I kind of had the impression that you liked guys.”

Bart’s expression was suddenly more alert. He blinked—once, twice, three times, four times—“What?!”

“Uh…” Dick wasn’t quite sure how to be any clearer than that.

“Grife, there’s still gender identity in this decade? Sheesh!” Bart threw his hands in the air, suddenly standing to his feet. He crossed his arms, a pout coming to his face before he looked back to Dick, hilariously scowling. “First Tim tells me I’m weird for wearing a dress, even though I go shopping with Grandma Iris all the time for baby clothes for Aunt Dawn-who-isn’t-born yet, and now I can’t like who I want?”

“Bart—Bart.” Dick grabbed Bart by the arm, unsure whether he should be amused or confused. He stared at the teen, blue eyes teeming with perplexity. “Didn’t you…ask Cissie out because you liked her?”

“Huh?” Green eyes blinked so fast that Dick actually lost count. Bart shrugged, waving his hand as though he were swatting a bug. “Oh—well, yeah. Butjustasafriend. I was trying to subtly bring up the fact she could totally go as a crash superhero named Arrowette, only I apparently suck at subtle, so she really just laughed and petted me on the head. What’s with people and petting me on the head? I’m not a cat.”

Other people probably would have gotten lost trying to understand the first ten words that tumbled out of Bart’s mouth. Dick, on the other hand, could have made a living catching every word that Bart said. He studied the younger teen, watching the pout firmly on his face.

Bart caught that. Somewhere between propositions, arcade games, and Chinese food, he managed to remember when he rambled about something completely unorthodox. Looking Dick in the eye, his stance withered and he leaned against the stairs, shoulders hunched.

“I like guys,” Bart confessed. “But I like girls, too. In my time…it doesn’t matter who you love. You have the modest people who are just too shy to admit it and the stupid people who think it’s a ‘cool trend.’ But…” His face fell. “When you spend a lot of time alone…just you and this gambit time machine, you take whatever love you can get. It’s…it’s desperate, but it’s love.”

Dick’s expression tightened. Even if they’d only dated for a short amount of time, he was able to get a few details out of his once-boyfriend. Those details, he hated—and he was glad Bart had come here. He needed it.

To his surprise, Bart hadn’t finished talking. He picked up his expression, a coyness to it as he looked Dick in the eye, and a ghost of a smile against his lips. “Guess that was why I was glad when I found you. Even when I thought I was doing it for different reasons…you were serious. Grounded. You’re a real charmer, DeeGee. It was the best week of my life.”

“It doesn’t have to be just a week.”

“Yes. It did.”

“Bart—”

“Dick—”

“No. Bart.” This time, he wasn’t going to let Bart get away from him. He didn’t want to stay with Bart, knowing that the fragile teen would be scared of him and what had happened to his family, but he didn’t want Bart to run away without understanding just how hard he would fight for him. It wouldn’t be fair. “You keep talking about how it was just this simple week. I told you. I wanted more. More with you. I wouldn’t have asked to be with you otherwise. Not if I wasn’t so sure.”

He would never start a relationship—not without knowing for sure that he’d fallen in love with that person. Or would fall.

Even broken up, Tim was right—they still acted like a couple. Still exchanged glances, like a couple, and still wanted to be at each other’s side.

He could see Bart’s resolve crumbling in green eyes. They dwindled between guilt and pain before finally closing shut. He spoke in a miniscule voice—so small and so broken. “I just can’t, Dick. I…” His eyes opened, and he looked over the older teen’s shoulder.

Dick turned around.

Wally stood there, bewildered, and holding a bag of trash to take out. Dammit. Bart had taken it as a cue to leave—a gust of wind slapping against Dick, and the teenager had whirred down the staircase and through the streets until he was long gone. Dick cursed.

“Sorry,” was all Wally managed. To his surprise, the redhead didn’t sound the slightest bit angry. Just surprised. “I thought you already left—was gonna take the trash out…before, you know. The house started smelling bad.”

“It’s fine,” muttered the teenager. They both knew it wasn’t. Pressing a hand to his face, Dick looked down to Cissie, who’d stopped momentarily to watch the blur of speedster pass by, unidentified.

“Sorry,” his best friend said again. Silence passed between them, Wally still standing at the foot of the door and Dick leaning against the railing. With a small plop, the trash bag was set aside, door shut with a rickety squeak, and Wally positioned himself closer to his best friend, eyebrows knitting together. “You…really liked him, didn’t you?”

Dick peeked through one of his fingers. What he saw surprised him: an uncertain and twitchy Wally. Debating on a proper response, Dick took in a breath and nodded solidly.

“You…weren’t the one to break up with him either. That was a lie,” Wally speculated. “Bart actually broke up with you.”

Nod.

“Because of me. Because you and I fought.”

Silence. Dick looked away, turning around so that he could see the route Bart had taken to escape. His chest ached, and he did best to just close his eyes. “He did it because…you and I weren’t friends in the future. And it scared him. Bart thought doing that—doing all of this…would fix our friendship.”

“Oh.” Wally joined Dick, leaning over the stairs and watching the large backyard where Cissie practiced. He laced his hands together, eerily quiet for quite some time. When Dick finally felt calm enough to return home, he started to descend downward, but Wally’s voice stopped him. “I’m an idiot then, aren’t I?”

The teen froze.

He turned around to see his best friend staring at him, a wrinkle between his eyebrows and lips twisted into a grimace. Wally’s eyes focused onto Dick’s and he sighed—heavy, but not angry. “You and he had a thing going, and it was none of my business. It was…never my business, and you didn’t do it to replace me.”

Finally, he got it. Dick’s throat dried and his hands clenched into fists. “This…was never to replace you. You’re my best friend. People kept warning me about how you would feel about this but I fell for him anyway.” Hard.

Wally seemed to take the words to heart. He slumped to the wooden floor next to the trash can and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a douche.”

Standing there, self-conscious, Dick wasn’t sure what to do. He was terse—still annoyed over his experience with Bart, but right now Wally looked like the one that could use a hug. Which was seriously messed up at the moment. “I’m not going to respond to that.”

Suddenly, Wally jolted up, his entire expression changing into a grin. “Okay. Let’s do it then.”

Dick blinked. “Do…what?”

“Get you two back together.” Excitement teemed across the redhead’s face and he opened the door quickly to stick his head in.

“Wally—”