"Dude. What the heck happened?"
And suddenly everything froze.
"I... I..."
("You wanted to see me, Rob? Oh, wait, no glasses – so, Dick, then?")
Dick sighed, something he seemed to have done a lot in the past hour, and rubbed his neck. This only seemed to worsen the whole problem, as he realised when his fingers touched the downy fluff that framed his hairline that there was icing still on his hand. The boy dabbed hastily at the sludge.
"Seriously, tell me," pressed Wally, grimacing as he stepped over a puddle of brown on the floor.
("Yeah. I'm not even going to bother fumbling around. Just going to launch right into it.")
A moment of silence surfaced between them before Dick looked up with an embarrassed smile.
"I was going to make you a cake," he admitted sheepishly, "for your birthday." Dick grinned a look around the kitchen. "Turns out Bat-training only goes so far."
("I doubt it. Knowing you, if there's that expression on then you've totally been thinking about what you're about to say for at least a week. So shoot.")
It was the blush that made Wally shake his head, wrapping Dick into a sticky hug. He'd only ever seen that particular shade of red settle on Dick's face a few times in his life.
("Well, here goes nothing. Over time and being with people—as in being with people—I've realised that I fall for the person, not the gender. And I don't know how you feel about me, Wally, but I know that the things I want to do with you right now aren't exactly friend-like.")
"You're too cute. Come on, babe – I'll get this all cleared up and we'll have it ready in no time."
("Wow. Alright. Blunt. So you're... not straight?")
Ignoring the chilled water, Dick rinsed his hair and face under the faucet, closed his eyes tightly when Wally towel-dried the droplets out.
("Not entirely. I still like girls in a sense, just not totally.")
"I can do this," he insisted. That being said, he didn't make any movement to shove his boyfriend away.
("Why didn't you tell me before, Dick? I mean, is it new?")
"Could have been worse – I could've licked it off."
("I guess it was, once. But it's been like this for a while now.")
"Wally, shut up! Alfred could be right around the corner," hissed Dick. It could have been scolding or annoyed, had there not been that classic sparkle in his eye. The little acrobat was indeed the poster-boy for all things charming.
Wally smiled. He had the most amazing smile – one of those lop-sided, cheeky grins that made his freckles stand out even more.
And Dick loved it.
("Oh. Okay.")
"Paranoid much? Ow! Quit it! You can easily tell who's older here, because I'm clearly more mature. Anyway, look—no, not that look—baking is a science," Wally stated loudly, speedily wiping the lemon-scented bubbles from a blue bowl. In went one-hundred and seventy-five grams of butter and a cup of sugar. "It's about measurements. I don't actually know how the hell you got so much of the mixture... well... everywhere, but let's try to keep that to a minimum, eh? Now, crack these eggs."
("Okay? Really? I just confessed that I'm pansexual and I have a crush on you, and you say 'okay'?")
A small tut clicked from Dick's tongue. "I got a piece of shell in it."
"You're hopeless. It's a good thing you're a maths wiz because you haven't got a chance at becoming a chef." Dipping a single finger, catching the flake with ease, Wally smirked. "I don't blame Alfred for running off – it looked like a cupcake monster exploded in here!"
"Because that's what we fight in Gotham," Dick agreed. "Cupcake monsters."
("Well, what else am I supposed to say?")
"Three tablespoons of cocoa powder in that half-cup of boiled water. So why isn't Alfred helping? I mean, if I hadn't come along to save the tiles, he would've been stuck cleaning up all that stuff."
"I wanted to make it by myself. I wanted it to be special. Almost as much of a fail as the League of Nations pre-World War Two, apparently."
Wally passed him a spoon, bit his lip, "So where does that leave me? Can I help?"
("For a start, how does it all settle with you? Are you okay with me being... the way I am? And liking you?")
Dick looked at him like he'd asked if Batman had only one facial expression. "Heck, yes!" he said, a small slosh of creamy gloop splattering onto his finger.
("Dick, of course I'm okay with it! I actually thought you knew about me already, being the partner of the world's greatest detective and all.")
"Watch it! If you spill that we have to measure everything out again."
("Knew? Knew what?")
Dick made a face and Wally snorted; "That's attractive, babe. How lucky I am to have you."
"Don't kid yourself. You're not only lucky – you're a red-head. If we flick you over to Ireland for a few years we could convince everyone you've switched to Leprechaunism."
("Okay, since we're all coming out of various states of Narnia, I'm bi. That's why it didn't last with Artemis.")
Said red-head's nose screwed up. "Green is so not my colour," he muttered. His eyes flickered over and a sigh blew out of his nose, bumping Dick with his hip. "Dude, that is so not how you mix things."
("I thought she said you embarrassed her when you rammed into her mother's chair because you weren't looking and-")
"It's how I mix things – and it's not fair if you use your powers."
("That too.")
"Ooh, you jealous?" he teased.
("Hey, Wally?")
"Of course," Dick nodded, the sarcasm arching his voice an octave higher, "especially with all the 'too fast' jokes that surround your other life."
"Whatever."
"So, what can I do, Mister Chef?"
"Pour that into this. There we go..."
("Yeah?")
Wally flashed a smile, watching the wonderful goo pool into the cake tin.
("Can I kiss you?")
Holding both of Dick's hands from behind, Wally eased it into the oven with that classic grin that simply couldn't be wiped from his face.
("Kiss me? Why? I mean, um, not that you-")
Dick nudged the door up with his foot, fairly satisfied with the way it had gone thus far.
("If we wake up tomorrow morning and you decide it's too awkward and you want to spend the rest of your life avoiding me, I at least want to know what it feels like to kiss you.")
Taking advantage of their position, Wally pressed his lips to Dick's neck, and they were soft. His super-healing meant no chaps, no broken skin. He then licked up to the younger's ear.
("Oh. Okay. I guess that makes sense. Just let me, um, turn this way.")
"There are security cameras, dude," murmured Dick. "Bruce will see us."
("Alright. You ready?")
"Let him."
("Yeah.")
"Way to live up to your name, Wally. Bruce is like a dad to me – I can honestly tell you that no man wants to see his son with a second tongue down his throat."
("...")
Thinking it over, Wally turned his boyfriend around. "Arguably – my old man probably wouldn't mind, as long as it was a chick."
("...")
"Well, Wallace, we have around forty-five minutes and I have a new Black Ops game. You in?" Dick asked, falsetto in full fling.
("That was pretty good.")
"Totally. But don't ever do that again."
("Yeah. Hey, do you want to do that one more time?")
"Fair enough."
("Definitely.")
