#bartpres

Bart Allen/Preston Lindsey:

Also Preston canonically though Bart's mom was attractive but bart and his mom literally look the exact same. So. Preston buddy. Preston I think you're real close to a realization.

Bart Allen/Tim Drake:

or read here instead

1.

Bart trudged inside after Helen, bag dragging along the floor and shoulders slumped. 

It had just been one of those days; the ones where even friendly contact made your skin buzz in a not so pleasant way and simply getting out from under your thick blankets felt like medieval torture. He tried to make it through the day, he really had, but even Carol and Preston could tell that he wasn’t his usual self, being more easily frustrated, shying away from touch, and quick to snapping at the smallest  of things. It was a surprise to no one when he inevitably caved part way through the day. He told his teacher he wasn’t feeling well and then called Max using the phone in the nurse's office.

It was Helen that answered, and she had told him that Max was out but she would gladly come get him. He knew she was a busy person and that this was probably the only free time to herself that she was going to get this week, and he felt bad for taking that away from her, but he was so tired that he all but begged her to come get him. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t just run home. The school wouldn’t release him without a guardian present and just up and leaving would cause more problems than it was worth. Stupid school and its stupid rules.

It felt like hours before her familiar car rolled up to the school and she came inside to sign him out and collect him. Even though Helen was the type of person to blast music when she drove, the ride home had been blissfully silent. Bart was so thankful for it.

He flopped onto the sofa after carelessly throwing his bag down near the hallway entrance. He buried his face in the corner of the cushions and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt wrung out and tense. Maybe he just needed a nap and he would feel better. At least, that is what he was hoping.

“Are you hungry, hun?” Helen asked from the doorway of the kitchen. Bart felt vaguely nauseous but he had to admit that he was a little bit hungry, so he muttered a tired “sure” and listened to the sound of Helen's retreating steps. He closed his eyes and tried to stave off the headache that threatened to expand behind his eyes. Yeah, that nap sounded good right about now.

He unknowingly drifted into a restless sleep and woke to the pink and orange hues of a setting sun in the open window. He rolled over onto his back and admired the pastel clouds as they drifted by. A breeze cooled his skin and caused the curtains to flutter gently. The beauty of the sky was one of the only things VR had never been able to replicate perfectly. He inhaled deeply, taking in the delicious smell of something cooking in the room over. He leaped to his feet and dashed into the kitchen as he recognized the smell as Helen’s Beef Stew.

“You, like, never make this, Helen. What’s the occasion?” He asked, mouth water at the sight and smell as she stirred the large pot on the stove. It was something that was tedious to make in quantities large enough to satisfy the speedster metabolism, making it a rarity in the Mercury household. 

“I just felt like it.” Helen said, ruffling his hair as she headed towards the cupboard to grab one of Max’s big bowls, the ones that looked like oversized mugs with the handles that got too hot to hold. She scooped him several large spoonfuls before handing the bowl off to him and pointing him over to the table. She handed him a bread roll from a bag sitting on the counter that Bart knew hadn’t been there that morning.

“Thank you, Helen.” He said, excitedly dipping his spoon into the heavenly meal and digging in, humming at the as the unbeatable tastes exploded across his taste buds.

“No problem, kiddo.” She said, taking a seat beside him with her own bowl.

I love you

2.

Bart was tired, which wasn’t something that happened to him very often. He was known to have an infuriating inability to grow tired, actually. It was something that drove Max crazy in the beginning, and left Bart feeling restless and agitated. But today, he was well and truly tired.

His shoulders had an exhausted slump to them and he had to shuffle to keep himself awake as he stood behind Max. He gave a tired blink, eyes absently staring up at the starry night sky while he tuned out the boring run down the old man was giving the police officers who had come to collect the small-time villain they had just taken out.

“You look pretty tired there, Bart.” Max said as they finally, finally walked away from the police officer. It felt like they had been standing there for hours! How did Max even find the words to have a conversation so slow?

“Yeah, a little bit, I guess.” Bart said with a yawn. No use in lying about it, really. He was tired, after all.

“Why don’t you go ahead and hop up onto my back then? I'll give you a lift home.” Max suggested, halting their walk. Bart perked up slightly, his eyebrows raising nearly to his hairline,

“Really?” He asked, maybe a touch too excited. He loved piggyback rides, you see.

“Why not?” Max asked rhetorically as he moved to crouched in front of Bart, arms extended back in preparation to hold Bart’s legs. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He moved at the speed of light, practically throwing himself onto the older man’s back with a newfound energy and wrapping his arms around his neck in an near choke hold. Max choked and teetered forward, almost being thrown off balance before righting himself and standing up straight. He hoisted Bart further up his back, grip firm and secure on the underside of his knees.

“Are you sure I’m not too heavy for your brittle old man bones?” Bart asked, swinging his feet back and forth in an excited manner. He knew his weight was nothing for Max, but he couldn’t resist the urge to rib him whenever he could.

“Don’t make me regret this, Bart.” Max grumbled with a sigh, though there was a smile on his lips.

Bart just laughed and hugged him tighter, resting his head against Max's and letting his eyes slip shut as he started back up their journey home for the night.

I love you

3.

“Bart!” Preston’s voice called out to him from somewhere to his left. 

Bart turned towards the sound and found Preston rushing towards where he was sitting on the bleachers watching Carol run through her cheer routine. His steps were loud and thunderous on the rickety structure. He threw himself down onto the heated metal of the bench beside him, side pressing into Bart’s and elbow digging into his ribs.

“Where’s the fire?” Bart joked, unconsciously leaning into the weight of Preston.

“That is not a funny joke to make when it is well over 102 degrees outside.” Preston said, giving Bart a disapproving look, his face already blotchy and red from the heat.

And he made a fair point, to be honest. It was so hot outside that Bart was convinced he’d managed to sweat off more than two times his body weight by now. He would have surely passed out if not for the constant water breaks the teachers had been begrudgingly allowing them. Even the shorts he’d borrowed from Cissie and the light tank top he stole from Wally weren’t doing very much to help him from overheating in the sweltering August heat.

“My bad,” He laughed, “But seriously, what's the rush?”

If it was even possible, Bart could have sworn that he saw Preston’s face flush even deeper. The heat must really be getting to him, huh?

“I-um-well, I wanted to give you something.” Preston said. He pulled his backpack up into his lap and then rooted around in it before producing a small cassette tape case. It was see-through and without any indication that it was by a specific band so Bart deduced that it must be homemade.

“What’s this?” Bart asked, reaching out to pull it from Preston’s slightly shaky grasp. Upon closer inspection he realized there was a piece of scrap paper with his name written in red pen taped to the cassette itself.

" It's a cassette tape.  I recorded some stuff I thought you might like onto it.” Preston said. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, a small tremble noticeable to it. 

“Oh, wow, thank you.” Bart said. He reached into his own bag, digging around for the walkman that Max and Helen got him for his birthday.

“Are you going to listen to it now?!” Preston asked, sounding almost panicked. Bart turned back to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Am I not supposed to..?” He asked.

“I mean, I’m not stopping you. It’s just- well um, I though that- No, nevermind. Go ahead and listen to it.” Preston stuttered out, turning his bright red face away from Bart, who shrugged in response before finally pulling his walkman out from where it was crushed between several trashed spiral notebooks and borrowed textbooks. He rooted around some more until he found the headphones that went with it, half-heartedly untangling the wire before plugging them in and then poking Preston in the shoulder.

“Listen together?” He questioned, holding the headphones out between them.

Preston pursed his lips and looked between Bart and the device several times before his expression softened into a smile and he said, “Why not.”

Bart twisted the headphones a bit until he was able to press one of the speakers to his ear, cupping his hand over it to keep it in place. Preston did the same. This position forced them to lean into each other, their sweaty shoulder’s stuck together, knuckles brushing against each other, and knees knocking together. Preston leaned back, forcing Bart to follow until they were both leaning against the bleacher bench behind them, heads leaning back against the hot metal and faces upturned to the shimmering sun. Bart closed his eyes and let the lyrics to Some Kind Of Wonderful fill one ear, the sounds of the activity on the field and Preston’s steady breathing in the other.

I love you

4.

The rest of Young Justice dispersed throughout the base as the meeting and debrief came to an end. Bart shoved his chair back and flew to his feet, ready to go tearing back home to Manchester. Those meetings were always soooo boring, and he was more than ready to go running with Max or hang out with Preston and Carol. It was the weekend, so he didn't even have homework to worry about. Well, no homework that he was going to worry about anyway.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He paused and turned to make eye contact with Tim. Oh no, what had Bart done? Was he in trouble or-

“Hey, here's a list of all the rogues - active or otherwise -  in your area. Let me know if anything is missing, kay?” Tim said before handing him a laminated piece of paper that he confirmed with a glance was indeed a list of rouges, with both names he recognized and a few he didn't.

What?

“Thank you?” Bart questioned, raising an eyebrow. Tim patted him on the shoulder one more time before walking away without another word.

He didn’t know why Tim felt the need to give this to him, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it. For now, he decided to hand it off to Max and hope to forget about the weird experience.

Execpt Tim did it again. And again. And again. Every weekend like clockwork Tim would bring him a new updated list with more and more information on it each time, and again and again Bart would give him a confused look before going home and handing it off to Max. It was like Tim didn’t think he could do his own job!  The nerve of this guy!

...But that wasn’t it, was it? The more he paid attention, the more he began to realize that it wasn’t just him that Tim did this to. No, he did it with everyone. He even did it with Cassie, who Bart knew Tim had absolute faith in. So it wasn’t done out of a lack of faith in his ability. It was done out of…concern? Or at least something similar to it.

Tim wanted them, wanted Bart, to be prepared for anything. He wanted him to be safe. And honestly, it had been helpful, he wouldn't lie. More than once it had clued him and Max in on some suspicious activity that they would have been otherwise too busy to notice. It was nice, Bart thought, to have someone on the outside help out every once in a while, even if it was from someone weird enough to alphabetize and colour code the information. 

Bart smiled widely at Tim the next time he came to hand him an updated list. Tim smiled back, the lenses of his domino scrunching up and his dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth. He patted Bart on the shoulder like always and left to carry on with his tasks.

I love you

5.

Cassie Sandsmark was an extremely tactile person. This was a well known and inescapable truth that the entirety of Young Justice have come to know over the course of their time together. Whether it be a casual arm around your shoulders or a spine cracking hug lifting you from the ground, Cassie couldn’t go longer than a few minutes without being in contact with one of her friends.

And Bart loved this fact.

He was just as touchy as Cassie, if not more so. Hugs, high fives, pats on the back or shoulder, and even holding hands, you name it and Bart Allen loved it. This simple fact made the two of them the perfect victims to the others' affection.

“Hey, Bart.” Cassie’s voice called from the sitting space as he made his way to the kitchen for a quick snack.

He paused and peaked his head into the doorway. “Yeah?” He called back.

“I’m going to watch Wendy. Want to join?” She called back, unnecessarily loud considering he was only a few feet away from her. He considered her offer and then shrugged. He didn’t have anything else to do, he was just going to go back to his room and play video games.

“Sure, why not. Let me grab a snack real quick.” He said, ducking back into the kitchen.

“Grab me a pop while you’re in there, would you?” She yelled from the other room. He didn’t answer, and instead got to work poking around for something to eat.

He returned to the sitting room a few minutes later with a family sized bag of crisps in one hand and a soda for Cassie in the other. She was laying across the sofa when he got there, one leg lazily hanging over the edge and the other bent at the knee and leaning against the back. Her head was cushioned by the armrest.

He didn’t even consider the other furniture in the room before immediately going to lay himself directly on top of her, setting the drink and the snack on the floor in front of them. He laid his head on her muscular chest and she wrapped her arms around his waist, locking her hands together and setting them on the small of his back. He tucked his hands underneath her, warming them with the heat of her back.

He listened to her heartbeat as they watched the show, his head rising and falling in time with her breath. Eventually she began to run her fingers through his thick hair, and even he had to admit it made him just a little bit sleepy. He felt content to lay there forever.

I love you

6.

Bart leaned back against Anita’s legs behind him, shifting impatiently as she ran a brush through his unruly, static-y locks.

It was getting longer, annoyingly so. It would not stop fall in front of his face unless he was constantly pushing it behind his ear or blowing it out of the way. It drove him crazy. It also seemed to drive Anita crazy, because she had wasted no time in coming up to him after the day's mission was over with a wrist full of hairties and a brush in her hands. He didn’t think twice before following as she wordlessly led him to one of the long couches, allowing himself to be sat on the floor in front of her.

“How is school going?” Anita asked, setting aside the brush to run her skilled fingers through his thick hair.

Bart couldn’t help but snort at the ice breaker. It was something Wally or Barry would awkwardly ask him when they didn’t know how to start a conversation. However, whereas they would say it with this weird, stilted energy, Anita said it casually.

“It’s been good. I joined my school's conservation club recently. It’s really easy to clean up all the waste around the city with my speed, but something about working as a team and slowly making somewhere look nice and clean is really…rewarding I guess.” He replied. Anita hummed.

“Any friends in that club?” She asked, fingers deftly dividing his hair into sections.

“I joined with Rolly and Carol. Preston was going to join too, but then the school started up this film club that runs at the same time, and he couldn’t miss the opportunity.” Bart said, rolling his eyes at the reminder of Preston’s betrayal.

“How are Max and Helen?” Anita asked. 

“They’re doing great actually. They’ve both had more free time than usual recently so we’ve been spending more time together. It is honestly a little painful playing board games with them, though. It feels like it takes them both an eternity to take their turns.” He admitted, frowning at the memory. Behind him, Anita giggled as she tugged the strands of hair into place.

“I understand that. It’s a nightmare when my family plays card games. They’re way too strategic about it, especially with Uno. I swear it takes hours before even a single card is played!” She exclaimed, pulling a laugh from Bart in turn.

“We tried to play Uno once, but Max got so angry he refused to talk to me and Helen for the rest of the night. Poor Matt, he got the cold shoulder for nearly a whole week! All because he hit Max with a draw six.” Bart lamented. Anita gently, but firmly, righted his head when he went to shake it in mock disappointment at  his guardian's petty grudge.

“That sounds about right,” She said, “We had to remove those cards from our deck to get uncle Maad to play.”

“No way!” He laughed incredulously.

“Yes way!” She laughed along, fingers pausing in Bart’s hair for a moment so she wouldn’t pull at it while she tried to calm her giggles.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence a few moments later, cheeks hurting from all the smiling and laughter. Not too long later, Anita slid a yellow hairtie with a star charm on it down her wrist and pulled the end of the braid into it. She gently patted him on the head to let him know she was done and he took it as an invitation to give her a big hug, which she returned.

He thanked her and they went their separate ways, both in a hurry now to get home after the long day. On his way out, Bart caught sight of the beautiful French braid Anita had done for him in the reflection of one of the big glass windows. He stopped to turn his head from side to side, admiring her work with a wide grin. It looked beautiful.

I love you 

7.

One of the Ken’ts cows was due to give birth soon, which meant that Ma Kent was stressed, which meant she was stress baking, which meant lots and lots of baked goods to go around. When she inevitably made too much for the family to finish on their own, it was only natural that she would load up a foil pan to the brim with fresh Brownies and hand them off to Kon on his way to a Young Justice meetup. Being the perpetually hungry teenagers they were, the team swarmed the baked goods like a shiver of hungry sharks that got a whiff of blood in the water. The previously full pan only had a handful of squares remaining in a matter of seconds.

“Kon these are heavenly.” Bart moaned around a mouthful of warm, fudgy brownie. “You’re Ma needs a reward for these or something, I could eat them every day for the rest of my life.”

A bit dramatic, yes; but, hey, they were really good brownies. Kon looked thoughtful at that, a tilt to his head as he studied Bart like a specimen under a microscope. Bart smiled at the attention, uncaring of the mess of brownie that was probably clinging to his teeth as he did so. Kon raised his eyebrow in amusement and slid the rest of the brownies over to him.

Bart didn’t need to be told twice before he was polishing the rest of them off in one go, the foil pan empty in the blink of an eye; literally. Kon laughed at the display while the others all whined in unison, chastising him for not saving any for the rest of them.

Somehow, the stream of sweets didn’t stop, even after the calf had been born (it came out healthy and adorable, for the record). Different sweets and baked goods, all courtesy of Ma Kent, would show up to their meetings and hangouts without fail. Which was awesome. What teenager wouldn't love being brought homemade desserts all the time? However, Bart began to notice something was up. Sometimes the sweets would taste different, too different to be a mishap in the kitchen, and Bart knew Ma Kent was too skilled a baker to make mistakes on a recipe at all. They would also be a little more sloppy, a little misshapen or  varying widely in size. Not that he cared. Sweets are sweets, after all. It was just something he had taken notice of.

He came to the conclusion that Kon had started baking them himself, and so he did the only thing natural in this situation. He brought it up.

“Hey, did you make this one?” Bart asked around a mouthful of blueberry pie. Kon seemed to flush a bright red. Bart had to stop himself from laughing at the mental image of Kon with the head of a tomato.

“Is it that bad?” Kon asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Bart tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“No? It tastes awesome.” He said incredulously. What a stupid thing for Kon to say.

“How could you tell then?” He questioned.

“Well, it just looks a little less…” He thought of his words carefully, “neat? I guess?”

At that, Kon laughed.

“I can’t deny that. I’m still new to all of this. I still haven’t gotten the presentation down to a T just yet. Ma is still worlds better at it than I am.” He admitted. He cut another slice of the pie and put it on Bart’s plate. Bart kept eating as if he didn’t notice.

“How come you started baking? New hobby?” He asked, taking another large bite, licking the blueberry syrup from the fork, something he couldn’t get away with doing around Max, lest he spend the next hour or two getting lectured on table manners.

“Ma is a busy woman and I know you like sweets, so I thought, hey why not give it a shot? I get practice in the kitchen and my best bud gets an endless supply of sweets. Win, win.” Kon explained. He refused to meet Bart’s eyes and his cheeks were still red. For some reason, Bart felt his own face grow warm. Weird.

“Hhm. . . Well, I’m not going to complain. You’re the best!” Bart said before returning his attention to destroying the pie as fast as he could.

I love you 

8.

Bart hated shopping. He could usually do a full sweep of a store four times over and find everything he needed by the time the others were done looking at one rack of clothes. It was so slow and incredibly boring, so he rarely ever tagged along when his friends went to the mall. They understood his reasons and didn’t push him to join, though he could tell that they were sad every time he said no when they still asked to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind. That alone was enough to make him feel warm inside, to be honest, that his presence was missed. It made him feel like he belonged. 

He was currently playing his Gameboy on Cassie’s bed, waiting for the others to return from one such shopping spree. He was technically early - Cassie had invited him to a movie marathon that was planned for when they got home - but her mom had let him in when he knocked so he figured there wasn’t a problem. Cassie probably wouldn’t care anyway.

He didn’t look up as the door opened and his friends all piled into the cramped room, only raising his hand to give a short wave before returning to his game. His high score on Tetris wasn’t going to beat itself.

“Bart! Why are you in my room?” Cassie said, her annoyance all fake and played up.

“Your mom let me in like an hour ago or something.” He answered. He cursed under his breath and set the handheld down as his stack got too high, the Game Over screen flashing mockingly at him only a few clears away from beating his score. He glared at it. Stupid thing.

Kon and Tim were dropping a bunch of bags on the floor as Greta impatiently waited to go through them off to the side. Bart thinks the mall trip might have been for her since she needed new clothes, but he didn’t quite remember. 

“Oh, Bart, hi. I’m glad you’re here.” Cissie said, appearing in the doorway and shouldering past Tim, who halfheartedly grumbled in annoyance as he gave her a playful glare. She stuck her tongue out at him before rooting around in one of the bags hanging off of her arms.

She gave a triumphant yell as she pulled out something small from one of the bags. She made her way over to him and held the object out with a closed fist, hiding it from his view.

“A present? For moi?” Bart asked, batting his eyelashes at her. He sat up properly in Cassie’s bed and held his hand out to receive the gift. Cissie rolled her eyes and dropped it into his ready palm.

“I saw it while we were in line and thought of you.” She explained before going over to where Greta was happily digging through her new clothes and dropping down beside the younger girl with the other bags.

Bart looked down at his open hand and examined the gift. It was a small keychain no bigger than his thumb in the shape of Cherub from After-Life Avenger. Cissie must have seen him reading the comic during one of their hangouts. The sidekick was in his iconic fighting pose. The paint was poorly applied and his smile was wonky, likely from some kind of factory error. It was hideous, and it was perfect.

A wide grin spread across his face, a warmth in his chest. He pocketed the keychain and jumped off the bed to join his friends on the floor, ready to help Greta organize some outfits. 

I love you

9.

“So, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” Carol pestered, shoving the flyer into his hands. “It would really mean a lot to me if you came to this.”

Bart stared down at the poster, the font bond and in his face. “New Hampshire Cheer Competition!! Finals this Saturday 11/15 Don’t miss it! Be there, or be square!” He blinked at it and then looked back up at Carol’s anticipatory face, her eyes shining behind her glasses. 

“Sure, I’ll be there.” He promised.

And that was how Bart found himself pressed in between Preston and Rolly on a set of tiny bleacher benches in the gym of a school two towns over. He had wanted to run here when he heard the distance, but Preston had insisted on carpooling with his dad, so Bart was pressured into sitting through the agonizing hour and a half long drive over here.

He grumbled and elbowed Rolly in the ribs when the other scooted way too close to him in order to make room for an elderly man who was very intent on sitting on the same bench as them. He regretted his choice to wear a thick flannel today. Despite it being cold outside, it was way too hot in this cramped gym. Why did they choose this school to do their competition at? Their gym was way bigger than this one! Stupid…

His sour mood quickly dissipated when Carol and her team walked into the gym, however. He watched his best friend scan the crowd with squinted eyes, a hand shielding her face from the fluorescent lights up above. He decided to make it easier for her to spot them, raising his hand high as it would go and giving a big, dramatic wave. He definitely got way too into Rolly and Preston’s personal space as he did so, but honestly? It was revenge for making him sit in the middle. Take that. 

Carol spotted him immediately, a grin stretching across her face as she waved back just as dramatically, hitting one of her teammates in the head with her elbow in the process. She immediately withdrew her attention from her friends to apologize to the laughing girl, who waved her off before gesturing towards their team, who were leaving both of them behind. Carol gave one more small before moving to join back up with her team.

Bart had to admit, the competition was impressive. He didn’t even know many heroes who could do some of the flips that Carol and her team were doing, and even less who had the communication skills to work so in sync without even uttering a word. 

Carol’s team didn’t win, but they came in third place, which wasn’t too bad. Bart would admit that he did start to zone out at this point, bored to pieces by the long winded award ceremony. He cheered when everyone else did, but counted ceiling tiles with his chin resting on his closed fist in the meantime.

Eventually the competition was over and the crowd began emptying out of the double doors at the back of the gym. Bart followed his group out and to Preston’s dad’s car with his hands in his pockets, idly chatting with Preston and Wade as he went. Suddenly there was one arm thrown around Bart’s shoulder, another around Preston’s, forcing them both to bend over slightly.

“Hey, boys!” Carol’s excited voice shouted into their ears. Her hair was disheveled and frizzy, her face flushed from both the past hours of physical activity and the biting cold weather. Her smile was as bright as the sun, happiness radiating off of her in waves despite the fact that she hadn’t won.

“Carol! Hey! You did amazing out there!” Preston exclaimed, throwing his arm around her waist and giving her a sort of side hug.

“Aw, thanks. You’re sweet. My team did most of the work though.” She said, leaning away from Bart to return the semi-hug.

“Sorry you guys didn’t win,” Bart said, “You really did do awesome.”

“Psh, who cares about winning. I’m just really glad you guys are here.” She said, giving him a similar side hug as Preston. And Bart could tell that she really meant it.

I love you

10 .

Bart felt a little silly if he was being entirely honest. He had been in louder, more crowded situations than this before. Hell, he had been to concerts in the past, performed in them even! This shouldn't be affecting him in the slightest. And yet, for some reason, as he stood in the mosh pit of some concert Cissie had convinced them all to go to with her, he felt more overwhelmed than he had in probably his whole life. Or, at least that is what it felt like.

The pulsing lights, the roaring cheers, the incomprehensible lyrics screamed into a crackling mic, the pressure of a million sweaty bodies crowding up against his own; it was all too much.

In the blink of an eye, he was zipping through the crowd and out of the door of the concert hall. He doesn’t know where he went or how he got there, but he found himself pressed up against a cold, concrete wall, shivering slightly in the chilly air. There was a cold sweat breaking out across his overly warm body, leaving him feeling even more uncomfortable. His breath came out in short pants as it crystalized in front of him. He tried to get control of his rapidly beating heart, pressing a fist firmly into the underside of his ribs and feeling it pound against his sternum like it was trying to burst free.

He took deep breaths through his nose and exhaled out of his mouth, just like Max had taught him. It didn’t seem to be doing much, though. He squeezed his eyes closed and leaned his head against the concrete, uncaring of the way the action pulled on his hair.

He let out a gasp when a frigid hand suddenly slipped into his own. He opened his eyes and found Greta sitting right beside him, her legs pulled up to her chest. One arm was resting on her knees so as to cushion her chin, and the other was pressed between the two of them where she was holding his hand. She was making a point to not look at him.

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. Her actions and presence alone were enough to say I'm here for you. She just sat there with him in silence until Bart finally got his breathing under control. Then, she leaned her head against his shoulder and her thumb rubbed circles into his knuckles. Bart took one more deep breath, now comforted by the presence of his friend, and he never felt lighter. He leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes a second time.

I love you

11.

Bart lay on the hood of Cissie’s car with his hands folded over his stomach, Greta on one side of him and Cassie on the other. Greta was fast asleep under a pink and yellow star print blanket, head cushioned by her arms, while Cassie was chatting up a storm with Cissie, who was sitting on the roof above them. Tim was next to her, pointing a camera up at the sky and meticulously taking pictures of the stars. Kon and Slobo were playing with Krypto somewhere off to the side. Anita was watching them from where she sat in one of the car's open doors, her laughter quiet but still loud enough to be heard.

They had come out to watch the stars, but most of them had lost interest in that a long time ago. Now they were just enjoying each other's company. 

Bart lazily blinked up at the cosmos as the drone of his friends talking and laughter filled his ears. He wasn’t tired, really; it was more of a content drowsiness that was washing over him, brought on by a feeling of utter safety and comfort. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in it.

He didn’t even notice he had begun to shiver a little until something warm and heavy was tossed over his body. He cracked his eyes open just enough to see Slobo standing on the bumper of Cissie’s car, hands planted on his boney hips and a disapproving look on his face as he glared down at Bart's half asleep body. Bart further saw that it was the other teen’s insulated leather jacket that was now draped over Bart like a blanket. 

“Idiot, I told him to bring a fraggin’ coat of his own.” Slobo said to no one in particular, shaking his head in what was clearly meant to be disappointment.

“You know, we had spare blankets in the trunk, Slobo. You could have given him one of those.” Cissie said, amused. 

“That’s too much fraggin’ work, scrounging up one of those. Nah, this is just fine. He can use that for now.” Slobo said before hopping off the bumper to go back to where Kon and Krypto were waiting for him. Bart slipped his eyes shut once more, snuggling into the warmth of the jacket.

I love you

+1  

Bart  had been thinking a lot lately; about love and what it meant. 

He couldn’t claim to know exactly what it meant to love or be loved, but, really, who did? There were a million different ways to say I love you. It was near impossible to even try to comprehend the true extent of the word. 

Love was the heavy weight of a warm meal sitting in your stomach after a hard day. It was fingers weaving beautiful patterns into your hair while you talked and talked about anything and everything. It’s the sticky residue of homemade blueberry pie on your fingers, staining the corner of your mouth as you clean your plate and go in for more. It was a lovingly crafted cassette with wearing tape that you listen to almost everyday, a flush on your cheeks as you absorbed the true intentions behind each carefully selected song. 

Love was a small gift to say “I’m thinking of you”. It was a detailed report looking out for your safety. An invitation to watch someone do what they enjoy so that you may share in their happiness. A cold hand holding your own when your heart won’t seem to slow down. It’s a jacket draped over you like a blanket as you drift off to sleep to the sounds of laughter. 

Love was all of this and so, so much more.

Bart Allen/Preston Lindsay:

Also Preston canonically though Bart's mom was attractive but bart and his mom literally look the exact same. So. Preston buddy. Preston I think you're real close to a realization.

Obligatory PLEASE read Impulse 1995

Hal Jordan/Guy Gardner:

Tim Drake/Danny Temple:

Chuck Dixon has a talent for writing the gayest interactions known to man despite being DCs most famous homophobe

Brentwood Academy was PEAK. Birdsnake rules.

Bart Allen/Preston Lindsey: