Two updates in one day? Wacky! Light slash and all that! I forgot how short this was, so I thought it only fair. :)
EDIT: Augh, mistakes, mistakes. FIXED.
In the dining room, Nightwing lounged comfortably at the kitchen table, one arm dangling loosely over the back of his chair and a foot propped up on the rungs of one next to him.
Wally gave him a funny look over the divider as he rooted through the cabinets for plates. Sure knows how to feel at home ...
Nightwing's eyes widened behind his mask as he noticed the boy's stare; he sat up, taking his foot off the chair and politely folding his hands on the oak table.
"Soooo … this is your ... friend's place," he said. "It's nice."
"Thanks. You want something to drink?" Wally leaned into the white fridge. "There's also ice cream."
"Soda's fine. Strawberry Zestia. You can keep all your ice cream to yourself, fatty."
"They don't make Strawberry Zestia."
Nightwing pouted. "They don't?" he sighed.
He fiddled with the fake chrysanthemums sitting on the white doily on the center of the table.
"Pretty sure I'd know."
"Hmm. I'll just have water, then."
Wally snorted and tossed a bottle over the counter peninsula that divided the kitchen from the boy at the table. Nightwing unscrewed the top.
"Sure is nice of your friends to let you use all their food on strangers," Nightwing baited.
Wally pulled fresh hamburger, lettuce, and tomatoes out of the fridge and didn't make eye contact as he put them down on the counter. "Uh, yeah."
"So, 'Nightwiiiing'," Wally began as he fired up the burners.
"You want a burger? Where are you from? What the hell is your deal?" He spun around, crossed his arms over his chest, and regarded the stranger carefully as he strung the questions one after another.
Nightwing's lips twitched. "Sure, medium. Lettuce, ketchup, mustard, no tomato. Can't tell you, and, frankly, I don't really know anymore."
"Hmm." Wally frowned and sprayed a little canola oil on the griddle. "Huh. Kinda overly secretive, aren't you? You know, if you hadn't saved our lives today -
"- and yesterday - " amended Nightwing.
"- I wouldn't be sure whose side you're on." He threw the burgers down on the grill, pressing lightly with the spatula.
Nightwing sat silently for a moment, looking at the table.
"I'm on yours. I'm always on yours," he said quietly.
"Hmm." The patties sizzled on the hot grill and filled the kitchen with a savoury aroma. "One or two? Or three?"
"One's fine." Nightwing smiled. He sat in comfortable silence as the speedster sliced the vegetables with deadly efficiency and toasted the buns.
Wally, on the other hand, knitted his brows for the umpteenth time that night as he put the burgers together. One for Mr. Mystery, four for me ... he takes his burgers the same way Robin does. But how could...? Is he trying to impersonate Robin? If so, he's pretty damn bad at it because he needs to actually, you know, claim to be Robin. Or something.
As Wally put the burgers on the plates, Nightwing sighed and stretched. Wally heard him adjust himself back into the more comfortable position in the chair.
Wally spun around, plates in hand. "Saddle up, du-"
He froze at the entrance to the kitchen. Nightwing's mask was casually discarded on the table, and he was rubbing his eyes absentmindedly.
"Huh?" the hero said, looking up. His crystal blue eyes sparkled in the kitchen light.
Wally's mouth dropped open.
"I don't think you're supposed to do that, Robin," he whispered.