More Robin/Kid Flash 100 word drabbles--same as in the previous chapter. Some of these are connected, but they're located together so I think it'll be easy to figure out. Most have nothing to do with each other. Comments and thoughts welcome!

Language

"So she kissed you?"

"Yeah. To learn language."

He trailed his fingers along the collar of Robin's shirt. "Right, that's what they call it on Tamaran."

"Seriously, she explained it to us—well, Beast Boy left the room at 'chemical transduction,' but…"

Wally took a step forward, wrapping his other arm around Robin's waist, and he couldn't remember the rest.

"So. Did you like it?"

"Did I what?"

"The kiss. Did you like it?"

Robin blinked. "God, Wally, it was in the middle of a battle; I don't remember!"

"Then it doesn't count." And he closed the distance between them.

---

Animal

He'd never stopped thinking about it. The silent sickness that bled into everything he was, everything he stood for, corrupted and destroyed and mangled it in the thrill of breaking the laws he was supposed to be protecting, outwitting the people he was supposed to be helping, reckless and uncivilized, like some kind of animal. It. Everything he'd been taught not to be.

He didn't know if Bruce knew that he'd stolen three hundred thousand dollars' worth of weapons from him. Given them to Slade. And liked it. Maybe he knew some of it, but not all.

Wally knew everything.

---

Rose

"Wally, huh? How's that going?"

Robin didn't respond right away, then finally shrugged.

"He's a good kid," she tried again. "Pretty much the reason I'm not still hanging out with—with those losers."

"Which we all appreciate," he said, nodding politely. Formally. Stiffly.

Jinx tugged on the hem of her skirt, feeling cold doubt trickle into her—because Wally was irreverence and laughter, not anything like Robin who…well, actually, she hadn't thought enough about him to have any idea who he was. If it was what Wally needed.

"Take care of him, okay? Please." She thought about roses and smiled.

---

Music

He had brain damage. That was the only explanation.

Starfire had a model's face, a dancer's body, hair that any shampoo company would kill to get its hands on, bright eyes that glittered when she was happy, and all first thing in the morning, in slippers, on too little sleep. But more than that. She cared, she loved, unequivocal and uncompromising and unshakable. She could draw a smile out of anyone just by being in the room. And when she laughed, it was music.

And Robin had brain damage because he didn't—couldn't—feel anything when he looked at her.

---

Dead

"Hey Robin?"

"Little busy, Beast Boy."

"Umm, kay, this won't take long, but I'm supposed to…Well, not really supposed to 'cos he didn't ask me to ask, but Wally wants to know…I mean, he asked me if…"

"I can't understand you; you're laughing too hard. And the fact that you're laughing in conjunction with something Wally wants to know really doesn't bode well."

"And I was just confused, y'know—'cos you seemed to kinda like Starfire, and I didn't know if that meant that you couldn't—"

"Just tell me, Beast Boy."

"…Robin, are you gay?"

"…He's dead. And buried."

---

Disturbing

"Seriously. Don't take this as pressure." Wally kissed him. "'Cos it's not. I'll wait. But Robin, the way you think about sex is kinda disturbing."

It wasn't the way he thought. It was the nights he'd stayed in his room and done calculus and tried not to think about Bruce's lines and lies and the things he orchestrated like another job; it was the kids on the streets with smeared, dirty makeup, the subjects of quiet, helpless conversations with Bruce when he'd asked the man afterwards what they were doing and why…

"I'm sorry."

"I really hate your dad sometimes."

---

Fight

There were only two things that could make Wally act like a three-year-old who needed a nap. The first was waiting in line for things. The second was when he and Robin had had a fight.

Cyborg was betting on the second.

"Sure you don't wanna play Mega Monkeys?"

"Nuh-uh." He grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his head.

Silence thickened in the air until Wally finally spoke again, equal parts indignant and sad, "Why does he think he's the only one who doesn't deserve to be happy?"

"That's not—"

"It is, Cy. It is and it sucks."

---

Luck

"So yeah, my place got flooded—really nasty; you don't want to know what the kitchen looks like. Rotten luck, huh?"

Starfire nodded in sympathy while Beast Boy yanked the suitcase out of the boy's hands and said something about how many spare bedrooms they had.

Kid Flash's eyes fell on his mask—and stayed there. Well, mostly: Robin chose not to think about the possibility of him looking anywhere else.

The boy grinned innocently. "Hey, gorgeous. You got a name besides the obvious?"

"My name is Robin. You know that," he grated out.

Another grin. "Maybe my luck's improving."

---

Work

He totally didn't get it. Didn't get it when they were lying in Robin's bed, when he was sliding his hands under the other boy's shirt and moaning into his mouth when Robin shifted against him—probably unconsciously. Probably. And when Robin suddenly jerked away in a disconnected movement, eyes snapping open as he pushed himself up, muttering something about whatever case he was working on.

He would have worried if it were anyone else; if you could think about work while kissing, something was wrong. Unless you were Robin.

So Wally just laughed at him and didn't get it.

---

Blue

It was something he'd never considered. Never, until he was staring at the dark bruise that ran from the underside of Wally's right eye all the way to his temple, blue seeping into black, the reminder of a fist that had gotten lucky in yesterday's fight.

And he couldn't look away, couldn't stop watching Wally while he slept, staring down at him and half-wanting to drag Raven in here and make her heal it—even though she couldn't do much for bruises, he reminded himself angrily.

But what was—what scared him—the unqualified truth that Wally could get hurt.

---

Picture

"Who was that one?"

"The names are on the files, Wally."

"Not who was she. Who was she?" He slid the file across the desk, open to the page with the small picture clipped to the top corner.

Robin knew before he looked, but it didn't change the way his stomach clenched up when he stared at huge blue eyes, laughing back at him through a curtain of blonde.

His pencil fell onto the desk, and then he was squeezing Wally's hand, desperately, and hating himself for how much he needed it.

"She didn't know. None of us ever did."

---

Time

It's been one year, eight months, and twelve days. Not that Robin thinks about it. He's just good at numbers.

Eight months and twelve days ago, he'd gone back. Stood on the spot where Slade's headquarters used to be, just staring at the ground and listening to his breathing.

And then he'd met Wally. Robin doesn't think he'll need to go when it's been two years.

Wally doesn't know. It hasn't come up, and he's been okay—because they keep all their clothes on and stay above the waist. Eventually, Robin will have to tell him.

And time fades everything.

---

Sleep

He got quiet sometimes. Not like when he'd duct tape himself to the computer for ten years—this was something else, something from inside, a nerve hidden deep under defense mechanisms and weapons and black strips of fabric. Somebody would say something, or do something, and he'd freeze, every muscle tensing.

And when they fought Slade, Robin never let anyone go alone. Ever. If he found out that they had, they'd be catching hell.

And Robin never cried. Except sometimes he cried in his sleep. Wally never told him.

Wally didn't know what it meant. He didn't want to know.

---

Tell

"I need to tell you something." He sounded more like a scared three-year-old than Robin. Robin had never sounded like this in his life. Ever. Wally was sure of it.

So he asked, fully prepared to be yelled at. "Is it about Slade?"

The yelling never came. "Yes."

Wally pulled him into a hug, and the shivering convinced him that he was right. "You don't have to say it; I know."

"No, not just that—"

"I know, baby." He'd known for weeks.

"I'll understand if you don't—"

Wally stroked his hair. "I love you. We'll work it out."

---

Angel

"We sorta dated. Y'know. Before," he'd said, fingertips patting the top of the shoe. The lump of stone that looked like a shoe. He smiled a little. "I think it's pretty—makes her look like an angel. See how her arms are like wings?"

It didn't, not really, but Wally nodded anyway.

"Hey, Kid Flash?"

"Yeah?"

Beast Boy paused to pick a leaf out of the plaque. "Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurts—like a stomachache, except good, but not exactly and—well, have you?"

Wally nodded again, and this time he was telling the truth.

---

Holiday

He hit the button on the vidlink and had to stop himself from touching the screen. Not being able to touch Robin for three days was making him crazy. "Hi, baby. How's your holiday going?"

Robin sighed. "Lots of staring contests and awkward silences—and it's not a holiday."

The question almost didn't make it into speech, but Wally forced it out. "So. You tell him?"

"Not yet."

"You gonna?"

The boy on the screen bit his lip, seeming younger in the oversized t-shirt than he ever had in uniform. "I'm trying, Wally. I swear."

"It's okay."

"No it's not."

---

Hate

"He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Wrong," Robin argued. "He absolutely does."

Wally took his hands, urged him forward into a hug—one that Robin didn't even pretend he didn't want. This was bad. "Just tell me what happened," he whispered, kissing his hair.

"He—he told me to end it. This. Us. Immediately." Robin shuddered.

"And you just—" Taking a breath, Wally forced the anger—and the fear—out of his voice. "What did you say?"

Robin laughed bitterly. "I said a lot of things. Let's just say the answer was no. And now he hates me."

---

Cold

"Your city. Is freezing."

"It's not my city."

"S'more yours than mine."

Robin glared at him as he sidestepped a patch of ice. "It hasn't been my city for two years. I'm not sure it ever was."

Wally took his hand, lacing gloved fingers together, the gesture unfamiliar because Robin had always considered it idiotic. "I don't care whose it is. This cold—"

"Wally!" Robin jerked away from him.

A heavy sigh. "What, baby?"

"We are two hundred feet from my—his house. You're not touching me."

The hand twitched, as if in protest, then dropped to Wally's side.

---

Beach

"This is so not as good as our beach."

"We don't have a beach."

"Do you delight in contradicting everything I say? What do you call the thing that surrounds the Tower?"

"I—something not meant for childish—Wally, put your shoes back on!"

"I just wanna see if Gotham's water is as cold as its—goddamn, it definitely is!"

"Told you. No sympathy." The words were Robin, but the tone wasn't—and neither was the grin, the unmasked blue eyes with mischievous, raised eyebrows, the freezing sand dusting his jeans.

'Teenage boy' looked really good on him, Wally decided.

---

Map

"Look, I know you hate me, and that I'm not good enough for him—although, in my defense, I'm a pretty fantastic kisser—sorry, god! The point is that I'm tired. And nobody's getting convinced tonight. So can we all please just go to sleep?"

"You may sleep. Alone."

"Geez, I'm not that dumb. If you need me, I'll be off needing a map to find my room."

"I don't remember saying you could go exploring."

"Well, I don't remember you offering a map!"

Wally thought this would probably be a bad time to ask to see the Bat Cave.