The song is, as the title implies, is "I'm Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket" by Pierce the Veil. Regularly, I don't listen to bands like that, but a girl I follow on YouTube covered this and I thought it was beautiful. We're in the RV on the way to Florida for our vacation, so I figured I'd play around with this. It might bring on tears, might not. Let's see what I can do with it.

Disclaimer: I don't own the song, lyrics or mentioned characters.

The good news about summer break was the two and a half months taken off from classes, giving more time for the young heroes to retreat to the Cave and train for worst case and best case scenarios. The six teens were able to spend weeks together, trading out the days with hanging out on the beach, racing the motorcycles up the mountain pass, movie night with included dinner and if it was required, some hardcore exercises to go at until they collapsed with hard pants and aches in places that necessarily weren't supposed to ache.

It was a blessing to not have to go to school and make up a story for the cuts, bruises and occasional broken limbs. Trying to memorize the periodic table in its entirety was much easier when you didn't have to balance it with putting off a migraine far too big to fit in your own head. Climbing the rope in PE was just about impossible when you were trying to hide a dislocated shoulder.

Now that they could wake up at the start of the afternoons, only having part time jobs to worry about, the days almost seemed perfect.

Dick Grayson never could agree to that.

Summertime was when Bruce Wayne took his big business trips, traveling to places like Mumbai and Saudi Arabia to secure some big deals for Wayne Tech. It was great for Wayne Tech, but quite frankly a pain for Bruce's young ward. With his guardian gone away, the fourteen year old had to leave the Manor and stay at a room set for him at the Cave with most of the rest of the team.

Most people would find this a dream, to leave home and stay with friends for that long, but Dick wasn't most people. Some days, he wouldn't consider himself people in general.

In those weeks, he had to don a pair of sunglasses and go by a false name, having to lie to even his closest of friends with a heavy heart. It was also when he had to leave the closest thing he had to a home to live in a new place, which brought back old memories that he'd rather not have. At least here he knew some people.

Tonight was the fourth night of the week that he was staying at the Cave, restlessly staring up at the ceiling from his position on top of the covers in the surprisingly comfy bed. The light was off, it always was, but he'd been two hours without sleep already and it was really starting to annoy him.

He always kept the room about as empty as he could get it to be, having nothing more than the bed and the dresser inside. Of course he had some 'just in case' items pinned to the wall above his bed, a basic utility belt unfolded horizontally and pinned open, but he had it right in line with the headboard.

A hand wandered up the headboard, feeling slowly until he found the pockets, counting four to the left and fumbling around until he could pull a com. link out and slip it into his ear. Once pressed, he waited.

One… two… three…

There was a connection.

"Hey," he didn't try to keep quiet, knowing the walls were soundproof, "You up or just ghosting?"

A silence held the line still before a dry-throated reply came back slowly.

"M'up," Wally paused again, taking a slow breath, "Everything alright?"

Dick gave a soft laugh, thinking he had woken the speedster up.

"Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, dude, but I'm dying of boredom in here. How's about rupting my fun?"

"Rupting?"

"You know, opposite of interrupting. Instead of stopping it, you start it. Come on, please? I'm about five minutes from going Jack Nicholson on everyone here."

There was a huff, maybe an impatient breath, but it was cut short. A rustle of clothes, probably throwing some on, and then the com. link making the noise it did when someone shook their head. A nod.

"Yeah, it'd probably… do me some good… I'm not in my room. You'll have to ZETA up to the top of the mountain."

A chuckle returned on the fourteen year old's part, in almost disbelief, rolling his eyes as he got out of the bed. He still had his jeans on from earlier, glancing around in the dark for his under shirt.

"Should I even ask?" he pulled the white t-shirt on over his chest, not bothering for his sunglasses.

Wally knew who he really was, so there wasn't a need to try and hide. The release on his door gave a sharp hiss, causing him to freeze and wait anxiously for any sign that he had woken up anyone else in the Cave. Not a sound. He started down the hall in his socks, as soft as he could be.

"Probably not, for the best," the ebony could hear the sore smile on his friend's lips and it brought a smile to his own.

When he stepped out of the archway, easily disguised as just another mountain ridge, Dick stopped and looked around. The moonlight earned his gratitude almost instantly, treading light until he recognized a red glow against the brown and gray of the rocks.

"KF!" he waved his hand, the com. link now pocketed, jogging over with his eyes on the ground to make sure he didn't step on a sharp rock.

He expected the redhead to stand and embrace him and a hug, a regular occurrence for them—no homo, but the sixteen year old stayed with his forearms across his elbows. That was the first sign that something was wrong.

"Wally…" he disregarded the rocks and bolted, kneeling in front of his friend with a gentle touch to the shoulder of the long sleeved yellow shirt, "Something happen?"

The auburn met his eyes and there was a certain emptiness behind his stare, one that the orphan knew without having to study a second longer. His heart ached in his chest, bringing him to gently grab the hands on either side of the speedster's thighs.

"I know that look… whatever you're thinking of doing, stop," the ebony squeezed his hands tight for emphasis, fighting to keep the emerald gaze on his navy set. "Nothing, no matter how bad it hurts, is worth hurting yourself over. Never act on two in the morning thoughts."

Wally wrestled for his hands back in a half-hearted strength, but he knew it was useless, seeing that the acrobat was just a bit stronger than he was. His lips opened in argument, to try and deny it, but a strong glare cut his lips back.

"What would you know about 'two in the morning thoughts'?" he murmured sorely, tucking his gaze to the side.

The ebony's eyes shot wide in betrayal, maybe a bit of disgust, a twitch running in his nose that drew his lips back in almost a snarl. Wally saw and flinched, regret running down his face.

"Sorry, I didn't… didn't mean that… just… you were… nine… crying yourself to sleep before you could even hit two in the morning…. I'm…" he ran his fingers over his cheeks, rubbing off potential tears. "I hurt… I hurt a lot."

Dick's face relaxed a bit and he bowed his head softly with closed eyes, running his thumbs up the arches of the redhead's index fingers in a calming motion.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he murmured softly, taking a deep breath before opening his eyes again.

When he did, he caught a dull flash of silver that shot at his heart just about as strong as the hidden gun could have once it was raised from behind the rock. Every other thought was numbed. Wally had a gun.

Slow conversations with a gun mean more than I've ever said to anyone.

Dick was sure to hide the fact that he had seen it, squeezing his friend's hands a little tighter now, biting his lip to the point he felt like it had been shot full of anesthesia. There were tears burning harsh in his eyes, a knot forming in his throat and blocking his breath for a moment.

The redhead stilled, head raised towards the stars with the darkness casting over his features instead of the moonlight, and shook his head lightly.

"Just go back to your room, Dick. I want to be alone."

The words chilled him straight to his skeleton. He was sure if they cut him open and looked, his bones would be covered in goose bumps just like the ones on his skin. The older of the two managed to use the surprise to wrench his hands free, folding them over his chest so they couldn't be retrieved.

"Wally, I can't-," the fourteen year old began.

"Dick! I want to be alone! Please!"

The words became an all out echo, the rage hammering dents into the rocks around them until they were both submerged in an ugly silence that had them glaring rough into each other's eyes. Both became quickly aware of the other's tears. Dick was the first to act on them.

He stood up and cupped the freckled face, fingers trembling and roaming as they tried to find something sturdy to hold onto.

"That's one of the last things I told my parents," the ebony whispered, voice breaking gingerly, "They… mom… she made us new costumes for the big show… big, bright and colorful… I thought they were the ugliest things I had ever seen. Dad, he uh… kept… telling me to put it on and to be grateful… that I looked like.. a little Robin… so I told them to leave me alone. And you... you know what?"

A single tear fell, breaking the tension.

"They did," Wally mouthed, bowing his head.

The acrobat pulled his hands back and sat on the ground at the speedster's feet, hands curled into fists on his lap. The older teen's arms went back to hugging himself, taking a shuddery breath. He shook his head firmly, eyes squeezed shut.

"I-I…"

The regret over the redhead's features was near over-whelming, and the fourteen year old read it like a book. He was realizing that he was going to be repeating the worst part of his best friend's life. Would that be enough to stop him? Could he use the guilt to save him? He had to try. A small cough cleared his throat and helped him muster a steady voice through the slow falling tears.

"Wally… I know that you're hurting. Trust me, if there's anyone out there who does… and that's why I'm your best friend. That's why you're mine. You get me! You're the only person who does, that I've told everything to. You know just what to say… Well, I don't know what to say. I'm not… g-good with words. I just know that if I lose you… I've… I've got no one left. Bruce? How often is he home? Alfred? He doesn't have much longer in him. What am I going to do when he dies? If Bruce does? I need you."

He was sure he had stuttered the whole way, but that was the last thing he was really worrying about. When he saw two hands reach for him in his peripheral vision, he quickly grabbed for them, squeezing them tightly.

"I've got you…" he murmured, holding them so the fingers rested against his aching heart, the occasional tear striking them.

Wally gave a broken sniffle and the ebony looked up at him, stomach jumping to his throat as he saw just how broken the features seemed to be.

"Why?" he breathed softly.

Dick tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing.

"Why do you put up with me? I'm about as… as useless as they come. A pathetic excuse for a hero… a worse excuse for a best friend! I'm self-centered and a douche most of the time! How do you put up with me? I'm a jerk to you. I put girls above you… food above you… I'm always hitting you… pretty sure I convinced Alfred that we're gay! I'm… God, I'm horrible! I don't see how-!"

The slap sounded louder than the earlier shouts had.

"Stop."

Dick stood up soundly and let go of the pale hands, stepping back away from the redhead as if the words had offended him. He walked slowly, crouching beside the rock that was hiding the gun and he picked it up. One glance told him the safety was just barely on. Probably thrown back in haste. He set it fully on safety, knowing the sound would make it look like he was taking the safety off.

"You're right. You are the worst excuse for a best friend," the ebony held the emerald gaze before turning and throwing the gun as far as he could.

They both watched it and waited, listening closely until a breath of a splash hit their ears. Even after that, Dick stayed facing the stars and Wally held a gaze at the back of his head.

"Not for those reasons though. I don't care if you act like a douche, and your cockiness makes you… well, you. Food is the closest thing you're ever going to get to a girlfriend, so I'm fine not interrupting your love. The abuse? I usually start it. Big deal. That's your basic friendship."

The ebony turned back and slowly returned to his side, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets with a small smile. Wally's eyes were still wet with tears, eyebrows bunched into a tight knot.

"So… why am I… a bad friend?" he managed out, seeing that the silence stilled over them again.

Dick turned his eyes to the rocks, biting the side of his lip.

"You're selfish, dude. You actually planned on leaving a guy with abandonment issues," he stepped forward and took a seat beside the redhead, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Do you know how much therapy I'd need if you actually killed yourself? I'd probably end up spending the rest of my life going in and out of their offices… I mean, come on! I'm still in there for my parents…"

He leaned his head over and touched it to his friend's shoulder, smiling as an arm wrapped tight around his shoulders to hold him close.

So keep in happiness and torture me while I tell you let's go in style. A million hooks around a million ways to die.

"How do you do it?" Wally rested his cheek against the top of the dark hair, sighing as an arm slipped around his stomach in a comforting hug.

Dick made a questioning hum, eyebrows furrowed.

"Deal with the… with the hurt. I can't think straight," the redhead rubbed at his temple with his free hand. "I feel bad for one day and I'm up here with a… with a… you know."

The ebony slipped his arms back and made his hands into a temple, resting them below his frown gently. Wally retracted his arm.

"I… I don't, not entirely. It still hurts more anything I've ever known. Some days, I have those two in the morning thoughts," he admitted with a sore smile, "but I don't want to act on them. I think of how everyone else would act. Maybe they wouldn't care, but the world would be missing a hero and I'd ruin Bruce's reputation if I killed myself. Mathletes would be missing their leader, Jack would probably cry alone in his trailer when he heard I was finally joining my folks… I'd be leaving you behind…"

He shook his head and bit into his lip.

"Besides, that's a dumb idea. Killing yourself is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Think about the little boys and girls who look up to Robin because he has no super powers? How would they feel if he killed himself? They'd all lose hope," he pulled his hands apart and twirled his fingers, "It's a lame way to die, too. I'd rather go out in an explosion… gun shot… you know, something… something brave… but with my luck, I'll wind up, I don't know, tripping on a rock or something."

Wally gave a weak softly, "Yeah… you probably would…"

The small smile gave Dick all the hope he needed.

Darling, let's go inside. It'll be alright.

When he got to his feet, he offered his hand and helped Wally gingerly to his feet, smirking at his sock choice.

"You couldn't even put on matching socks? Weak, dude," Dick teased him, offering as warm of a smile as he could muster up.

Wally lightly punched his arm with a weak laugh, rubbing his neck, "Shut up, I wasn't thinking that far ahead."

The two grinned at each other for a moment before the ebony gestured a thumb for the ZETA tube.

"Let's go back in. I think we still have some pizza in the fridge if you didn't eat it all," he gave the redhead's arm an encouraging tug and they started for archway.

Wally gave an awkward laugh and Dick shot him a look.

"Shut up! I was hungry!" he patted his stomach, "I have a fast metabolism to keep up! I don't want to die of starvation…"

The ebony gave a small laugh, rolling his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll take you out for some breakfast pizza. How's that sound?"

"…but I'm hungry now."

"No pizza place is going to be open at three in the morning, Kid Doofus."

"Uh-huh! That Pizza Shop on the corner between the outlet mall and the Bass Pro! Open 24 hours."

"That's at least 20 miles off."

"I can run us there."

"… Alright. Let me grab my jacket."

Sorry for the happy ending, but we found a perfect radio station leaving Georgia and going into Florida so I had to pep this up a bit.

-F.J. III