AN: You know those days where you really just want to smash someone's head in but you can't because it's their birthday? Yeah, I'm having one of those.

On another wonderful note, you know when your parents are like "Are you watching the time? This'll be the second night you're up till 1am," and you're just like "Soz bitchez, but I'm on a motherfuckin' posting roll!" (NOT THAT I CALL MY PARENTS BITCHES. EVER.)

It's one of those days (nights?) too.

Wally didn't want to talk about it. No matter how much he knew it was necessary, no matter what the voice of reason in his head told him, every thought that was so much as related to speaking with Dick about their... encounter very nearly gave him a heart attack. A million heart attacks, in fact. The whole idea played with his pulse, tore up his lungs' rhythm and made his knees a fair bit weaker than fish bones.

The TV was totally not the place to go, since it was time for the repeats of last night's American Idol; he knew Art liked to watch the first few rounds to see the shot-downs of chicks who crowed and men that cried. She only missed the first airing due to homework. Seeing her wasn't in his best interest, because three days wasn't nearly enough time for him to lick his wounds, speedster or not.

Damn.

Robin was heading right towards him, not pausing as he exited the Zeta tube, barely acknowledging M'gann's chipper welcome.

Damn damn fuckin' damn.

He'd realised the advance way too late to spin on his heels and pretend he'd not seen the boy. No, then Rob would know he was a right coward when it came to talking about sex and junk. Oh fuck, the use of "junk" in that context made him want to shake his head, run into a wall and knock himself out.

A black, gloved hand took a firm hold on his bicep, dragging him into the hallway. He wasn't sure if he wanted it to lead to an against-the-wall kiss or not.

Jeez, he would take a hammer to the nuts to avoid talking about "it".

It wasn't for another blowjob, thank Puberty God. Robin punched in the code for a meeting room, one of the few spaces in the whole mountain without a single security camera. Sound-proof walls didn't hurt, either.

The door automatically slid closed behind him, meaning no escape. Wally breathed in through his nose as the painful sound of Robin peeling the mask from his face filled very corner of empty space.

"You can just stand there, Wally," he sighed, "but we're going to talk about this."

Denying himself the urge to pull on his dumb act—one he did quite well, actually—Wally gulped.

"Let's cut to the chase. How do you feel about what happened?"

Ah, here was Detective Dick. Wally had been asking himself the same question non-stop since that night. He'd left straight after breakfast, because Alfred's bacon was to die for, and hadn't uttered a word to his supposed best-friend in the fear that... well...

...this.

However, if Wally was good at one thing, it was avoiding stuff.

"How do you feel about it?" he countered.

Dick leant back, folding his arms. "Don't do that, man. I asked first. Plus, you were the one who did that thing with your tongue-"

"Okay, okay, stop."

Again Dick blew an elongated puff of air through his lips. "New question, then; how do you feel about me?"

The bulge in Wally's gut twisted and curled, moving narrowed his eyes. "Hey, wait, no, not cool."

"What?"

"Oh, don't fake innocence, Boy Wonder – you know just as well as I do that whatever I say is what you'll go with," he growled.

Dick sat back against the desk, the temptation to fold his arms defensively overturned by the Bat-training. Wally, however, was not as aware with his own readability. His jaw jutted stubbornly, the slight twitch of the left side of his nose matching the tug of his lip.

And it hurt – did he really feel that bad about what they did? Dick sucked on his tongue for a second.

"Well, I don't wanna go first."

"That makes two of us, then."

Wally tried to put what Dick had taught him to use – he took in the way he stood and held his body, but it was as good as trying to understand French from a person speaking German. He was the freaking Boy Wonder, and he wasn't giving anything away.

The last thing either wanted was to hurt the other's feelings.

Wally bit his lip. Friendship could still be on the cards. Maybe the whole experience was nothing more than a fluke.

Fuck, he growled within the safety of his own head. Why does this have to be so complicated? Oh, yeah, because you couldn't wait to get your knob polished and your bestie just happened to be around.

Thankfully, Dick seemed to recognize Wally's thinking face as a sign of the turmoil unravelling beneath the surface. He gave Wally a sympathetic look, then spoke.

"How about this – we both write down what we think on a piece of paper. In a week, we'll meet back here and read each other's notes. That way nobody goes first. Deal?"

Wally barely allowed a moment for the idea to run through the old noggin before holding out his hand to meet Dick's, shaking it vigorously and exclaiming "Deal!"

"Good," Dick replied formally. Minus the dash of relief, his face was plain, a new mask replacing the domino one. Wally was too busy grinning at the prospect of not talking that he didn't notice anything was off.

"Although—and this is completely off-topic—I have to ask: you and Z..." Wally leant against the wall, voice lowering. "What happened?"

Dick's breath was a long exhalation of I saw this coming. He scratched the back of his neck, smiling uncomfortably, and folded his arms. When he'd told his best friend of the break-up between him and the young magician, he clearly hadn't wanted to go into an explanation. It was, indeed, the first time Wally had actually tried to get one. "Well, it's like this – she tried to give me a handjob once and I... I couldn't finish. It was awkward, and every time we were together afterwards she just had nothing to say." He cleared his throat and met Wally's gaze. "I think Z thought it was her fault or something."

"Was it?" Wally asked, his mind unfortunately drawn back to how easy it had been to get Dick off.

Dick shook his head. "Nah – she just didn't know what she was doing, really. I guess there hadn't been enough practice. Which is a bit of a hole-in-my-bucket problem, if you think about it."

Wally most definitely did not want to think about it.

Nevertheless, he snickered. "Alrighty then. That was all I wanted to know."

He held this expression still as he waltzed out, and even while he asked if Rob wanted to play a video game.

"Sorry, man – I was just here for that and then I promised Babs I'd meet her A-S-A-P. Some other time, maybe?" he offered.

Wally's response wasn't one of disappointment – no, it was completely smothered by his utter relief. "That's cool. Tell her I said hi."

"Will do."

Then Robin was gone.

And once he was, realisation seeped in. The ordeal had not been avoided – no, just postponed. He was still going to have to tell Dick how the whole thing had affected him... if it did at all... which it did...

One of the many horrible wonderings was whether or not he and little old Rob could ever be the same. The answer would be no, of course. In saying that, while it couldn't be ignored, maybe it could be band-aided. Looked over. Wally let his optimism give him hope that it would be true and it would all be okay.

.

"...and he didn't even cry. I mean come on. I was the best thing to ever happen to that guy, am I right? ...Dick?"

Dick nodded, a look of reassurance on his face.

"You should know that the only reason I'm letting you bullshit me into pretending you're okay is a combination of the fact that I love you and I don't want to hear 'I can't tell'," Barbara stated.

"Sorry, Babs," Dick sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm listening."

She turned to face him, the sounds of the girl currently on the bars growing louder as their silence set in.

"No, you're not," she finally replied. "Look, can you give me some sort of idea? What's on your mind? Girls, Bruce, money...?"

"Boys. Actually, a boy." Dick nearly slapped himself; there was just something about Barbara that made him blurt stuff out. It was a miracle she didn't yet know about Robin.

Her green eyes widened almost comically as she checked around herself for eavesdroppers.

"Dick," she whispered, "are you gay?!"

This was it – the very root of his problems. Dick got crushes on friends all the time; Artemis, Zatanna, and Babs were all proof of that. He liked getting to know people before launching into more intimate relationships.

But a boy?

Dick had always seen himself as a bit of a charmer with the ladies. He was polite, funny, smart, easy on the eyes, and well-known for the skill of his mouth.

"I don't think so. I still think about girls... but..." Again he sighed. "...we did some things. He's my best mate. It's all just so screwed up."

Barbara's mouth bunched to the side. "Well, does he like you?"

"I don't know."

"Do you like him?"

"I don't know."

Only half of a lie.

She knew. "Do you think he likes you?"

"I don't know. He'd just broken up with his girlfriend and I know for a fact that she'd never gone down on him-"

"You sucked him off?" she hissed.

Dick blushed.

"Grayson, you're up."

"I'll be right back," he assured her, taking the steps down two at a time.

There were two halves of the gymnastics team at Gotham High in Dick's eyes – the half who were spiteful—jealous—and put Dick's talent down to natural skill he'd never worked for and therefore never deserved, and the half he really didn't want agreeing with them.

The chalk burst as he clapped his hands, rough with calluses as it was without the dry smoothness of white dust as it settled on the natural oils of his skin. One of the youngest in the room, he made sure no-one held any doubt of his skill as he took the bar firmly in his grip. His upper body's muscles reignited in joy as he hoisted himself up.

This was what he missed in the Wayne Manor's private gym.

An audience.

He knew Bruce—sometimes Alfred—watched from the security room in the Batcave sometimes, admiring the movements he'd spent nearly a decade of his life perfecting, but nothing surprised them anymore.

When he wanted to feel amazing—untouchable—this was where he could get that hit. The girls here looked at him like he could walk on water, the boys like they would give anything to move like that. Any envy here had nothing to do with looks or riches or relationship statuses. It was the circus all over again, and everything was for the sheer awe of being able to do so.

And, when the hall wasn't available, there was Wally.

Wally made him feel like nothing he could ever do would be done wrongly.

He was a pinky off on the next one, and though nobody but Dick would notice, it annoyed him. This was his special place where he wasn't supposed to worry about dating and schoolwork and being Robin.

Dick landed it spot-on (of course) with a nod from the coach as he chugged back a long swig of his sports drink. When he joined Babs she was still alone, but as she opened her mouth he silenced her;

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." He kept his eyes locked on the opposite wall. "Not here."