Disclaimer: Wellllll... no. I don't own the characters or Travel Channel or anything else. sigh

Cruising

One: The Idea

Dick Grayson walked into the entertainment room of Wayne Manor and suddenly stopped. Wally West was lying flat on his stomach, head propped up on his hands, a few feet away from the TV, staring open-mouthed at the screen. Apparently, the speedster had decided to dash over and pay a quick, unexpected visit to Gotham City.

"What are you doing?" Dick finally asked.

Eyes still glued to the television set, Wally replied, "Drooling."

Sitting down cross-legged next to his red-haired friend, Dick eyed the screen and continued, "What are you watching?"

"Boats."

"Boats?" Dick echoed. "I didn't know you were interested in boating."

"I am since I saw that," Wally indicated the screen.

Dick glanced at the program. "Looks like a commercial."

"No, not that," Wally said, readjusting himself so that he was now kneeling. "It's this show about super-yachts. One of 'em has a living room that's almost as big as my whole house! And to charter another one for two weeks, it costs more than a million dollars!

"Before that they were showing something about private jets and before that there was a show about mega-expensive hotels. One suite in one hotel—I think it was the Plaza in New York—it had five bedrooms and two living rooms and about, oh, a bazillion chandeliers all over the place and twenty-four-hour butler service!"

Dick looked at the screen and asked, "What is this? 'The Drool Channel'?"

"Travel Channel," Wally corrected. "Geez, if I had one of those hotel rooms, I'd never leave it! Not even in Hawaii!"

Shaking his head and grinning as Wally continued to gape at the television, Dick stood up and said, "You can keep on slobbering. I'll see you later."

Wally, still apparently hypnotized, nodded dazedly.

As Dick left the room, he began thinking of something that could be a wonderful surprise for Wally's upcoming birthday. All he'd have to do was convince Bruce Wayne that it really was a great idea. And so Dick knocked on the door to Bruce's study and, after Bruce granted him entrance, came into the room.

"Say, Bruce, you like Wally, don't you?" Dick asked, hoping to sound casual while he sat down in the chair across from his guardian's desk.

Bruce, head hidden behind a newspaper, snorted, "Are you kidding?"

"Let's put it this way… you like him better than Roy, right?"

"That's a pointless question. I like almost anyone better than Roy. Except maybe Ollie."

"Well, you know that Wally's birthday is going to be pretty soon," Dick continued. "He was just salivating over a bunch of fancy jets and yachts on some show he's watching, and I was just thinking—"

"We are not getting him an airplane for his birthday. Get him a pair of socks. He could certainly use them."

"Not actually buy him a plane," Dick explained. "More like… say… flying him down in the jet to Florida and taking him on a little surprise birthday cruise in the yacht?"

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Bruce objected, newspaper still hiding his face. "First, it doesn't exactly take two minutes to fly down to Florida. We'd have to wake up early, and I'm sure Wally would not appreciate being woken up at the crack of dawn for a reason he doesn't know, if that was supposed to be a surprise.

"Second, unless you're planning on an extremely short cruise, we'd get home somewhere around two in the morning. In other words, your plan is 'no go'."

"But Bruce," pleaded Dick, widening his eyes in the saddest manner possible. "Wally has saved my life a couple of times."

"And I should be grateful?"

"Bruce!"

The billionaire peered over the edge of his paper and groaned. Not the eyes! He couldn't stand it when the former aerialist stared at him with those big baby-blues and Dick knew it.

Quickly using the newspaper to shield his view again, Bruce said, "No. That plan is crazy. …Mine is much better. We wake up and have a nice breakfast, then head to the jet around ten o'clock, so that you'll arrive in Florida in time to have lunch aboard the yacht.

"After lunch, you can cast off for Wally's 'birthday cruise' and spend the rest of the day and the next morning on board. Once you'd had lunch the next day, you'll head back to the airport and come back home. That is a much better plan than yours."

Dick smiled broadly.

"I, due to several late-night 'meetings', won't be able to join you, but…"

"…But I will, is that correct, sir?" Alfred, who'd suddenly appeared in the doorway, announced.

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all, Master Bruce. There is one thing that bothers me about this, however."

"Oh?" Bruce looked over his paper.

"You, sir. Who will look after you?"

Bruce glared at Dick, who was snickering softly, and said, "I'm sure that I can take care of myself for two days, Alfred."

"Very well, sir… if you are certain," Alfred conceded reluctantly, clearly not quite believing this. "I shall prepare a few meals for you, so that you need not do any cooking."

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "Last thing we'd want is to come home to a pile of ashes."

Dick laughed louder when Bruce gave him the evil eye.

"That won't be necessary, Alfred," Bruce said while still glowering at Dick. "I can handle it."

"As you wish, sir," Alfred reluctantly replied, apparently skeptical of Bruce's culinary skills.

"Thanks a lot, Bruce," said Dick sincerely, standing up. "See you later."

He began walking around the study, picking up a few books and spinning the globe around twice.

"What are you doing?" Bruce finally asked.

Trying to look sad, Dick explained, "I want to remember this room just the way it is… before it burns down…"

Bruce threw his newspaper at him and Dick ran, laughing, out of the room.