A/n: Well, here we are. Two weeks late, three new extremely turbulent new episodes, an arrow to the aster (remember that?) that was the horrible news of no season three, and a very close vote of nine-seven-five later.

Damn. How the hell did all this happen in two weeks!?

Anyhow, my recap: "The Fix" essentially was like Superboy punched me in the face. I finally realize just how much the bond from the first team has been lost since they all went their separate ways. To me that entire episode was a metaphor to that. I literally cried. I'm a huge wuss. "Runaways" was all full of nostalgia mainly because of static shock. I watched that growing up, so I was just like aww baby Virgil yay! The blue beetle twist? I honestly kind of saw that coming. What WOULD be a twist was if blue and green were acting as double agents on their own to figure out how to remove the scarab. Now THAT would be sick. And lastly, "War". Glad to see half the team that took a vacation again lol. Great fight sequences. An update on the trial at long last. Because it's only been an entire season, no rush. Seeing Arsenal made me realize we haven't seen Red Arrow in a while. Oh yeah,that's right, he's too busy being a hunkalicious baby daddy while his wife plots revenge with pops-in-law on Artemis. But seriously. Oh, and the last two minutes. So much pain to watch. SPHERE WAS LOST TO SPACE. Did nobody notice that?! And the core to the death moon looked eerily familiar...anyone remember the core in"Failsafe"?

I'm done ranting. Dance lessons won. Discussion about saving Young Justice will be at the end comments.


Wordplay

Twelve - Dance Lessons


Dick was exhausted.

Last night Gotham had not been forgiving. The Riddler decided to go on a kidnapping spree, spreading clues, victims, traps, troubles all across the city. The boy wonder was kept on his toes the entire time, alert to any movement, GCPD action, Batman's commands, and Alfred's advice over the comm link. Dawn was on the brink of the horizon by the time they finally caught Riddler. The dynamic duo broke all driving laws on their speedy ride home. Between peeling off their sweat-soaked and battle-torn uniforms, a quick shower, and covering up their injuries, the pair of white knight and little white prince barely had enough time to chuck back a mug of black coffee before being whisked away to their day life.

In school, things weren't much better. Sure, Dick had finished his homework prior to patrol, the wasn't the problem. The problem was the speech he had to give in his literature class about the symbology of Hamlet monologueing to a skull. After that, the exam in his anatomy class that near made him toss what little breakfast he had. The practical had an uncanny resemblance to a mutilated corpse Riddler left for him as a clue to a hostage. And lets not forget that he still had that presentation in his history class with Babs regarding the first world war and the horrendous battlefield conditions...

Maybe he should have called in sick.

Regardless, his school day could not end sooner. Which, in turn, only made it feel like it was dragging on longer. The gypsy acrobat began thanking every religious deity mankind worshiped when one-o-clock rolled in. Finally, there was only an hour left until he was out. It was taking every fiber of his being not to dose off behind his textbook in his final class of the day: pre-calc. While his teacher demonstrated an equation on the white board, his phone vibrated silently in his pocket with a text.

'Dude, come to the cave asap. I can give you a lift if you want. New training exercise today with BC.' -Wally

'Oh yeah, guess what? Totally just beat your high score in subway surfer in Chem class! Good luck trying to beat it!' -Wally

Dick groaned aloud, burying his face in his folded arms and pursing his eyes shut. Could today just be over already? A new training exercise with the team basically means discovering a new muscle you didn't know existed and straining it from so much effort. Essentially, a lot of work. He did not want another workout. His body felt like it ran a trilathon in an hour right now. His soreness felt sore.

"Mr. Grayson," His teacher called. The ebony haired teen glanced up, face flushing with embarrassment when he found his entire class staring at him. "Are you feeling alright?"

The boy nodded, putting on a meek and small tired grin. "Yeah, just tired. Sorry, ." With a nod, the teacher redirected everyone's attention to math, and Dick wearily propped his head up with his hand, forcing himself to stay alert. Maybe Bruce could call him in sick for practice...


A called-in absence? Who was he trying to fool, himself?

That had to be it. Because if Dick were 100% honest with himself, he knew that eventually he'd wind up at the cave. At first, when Alfred picked him up from school, the young teen actually did put a call through to Bruce. But before his foster father could pick up on the other end he ended the call. The butler made no small scene of how absolutely haggard Dick was, insisting that the boy immediately take another shower and get in a few well-earned hours of sleep once they got back to the manor. Again, that didn't happen. Dick ambled up to his bedroom and reluctantly battled through his homework. He then took a long soak in the tub, bubbles and all, and changed into jeans and an over-sized hoodie. Downstairs in the kitchen, Alfred had the kind heart to make him a broccoli-cheddar chicken soup while he worked away on dinner. Dick ate the meal fast, grateful for his first real food in over 24 hours, and told Alfred he was going to bed for a few hours.

He lied. He was pretty sure the butler knew that too.

Dick went straight to Bruce's study and headed down to the bat-cave via the grandfather clock entrance. Underneath his civvies was his boy wonder uniform; he stripped of his casual attire just before beaming out to the cave by zeta-tubes.

"Dude, there you are! What took you so long?" Wally's voice made itself known before the speedster himself, who nearly ran into his best friend immediately after. "I texted you three hours ago!"

"One, time zone difference between us is an hour, ergo, two, I was still in school and, three, I did my homework before coming over. Hi, by the way." The blue-eyed boy replied, fixing his mask on his face and putting away his sunglasses.

"Oh yeah, completely forgot about that. Dude, you look like crap."

"Great too see you too, Wallman. Gotham sucked last night; I don't even want to get into it..." He shook his head sarcastically. Then, he glanced around, noting a distinct lack of super-teens and chaos. "Hey, where is everyone? It's disturbingly quiet."

"Haha, yeah, that's what happens when you're not around. It's no fun to torment the gang when you're not around." The redhead chuckled, cradling three water bottles in one arm. He turned around, pointing with his thumb to his back. "Want a lift?" Robin grinned, hopping onto his best friend's back and playfully messing up his hair. "Hey, hey, hey, not the hair! I can make you walk there, don't forget."

"Dude, you're hair is perfectly styled always. It's windswept. Haha, get it?"

"Hilarious." Wally gave Robin a super-speed piggyback to one of the exercise rooms. It was cleared of the sparring mats on the floor and the young justice team was there with Black Canary. There was a waltz playing from the stereo-Blue Danube by Chopin-and everyone, with the exception of Black Canary, was spinning around in painfully gradual rhythm to the beat. Artemis was paired up with Kaldur, M'gann was with Conner, and Wally-Robin assumed from her impatient look- was with Black Canary.

"Robin, so glad you could finally join us." The lithe blonde woman greeted, effectively breaking everyone's focus from the dancing to greet their late-coming teammate. Robin's brows stitched together in confusion along with a crooked pout. He crossed his arms over Wally's chest, yet to hop off the speedster's back. "It's a good thing you haven't missed too much yet; progress has been slow."

"What's this? Prom practice? We should call Red Arrow, his is this coming-up summer." The teen joked. Black Canary wasn't as amused.

"After your last covert-op mission, it has come to the league's attention that there are certain aspects that come into play during a stealth mission that need to be worked on. I'm sure Batman, Flash, and the others will have a long, detailed conversation with you all about being covert, but for now I've been assigned to teach you how to blend into your environment." She explained, earning sheepish looks from all the teens present. "And as you all very well know, your performance at that gala during your last mission was appalling, so you're learning how to waltz. Properly."

Robin grumbled in complaint, crawling off his best friend's back and stretching his arms over his head. "Do we have to?" He said, almost whining but not. One sharp sky-blue glare from the combat fighter had Robin taking back his words. "Soooo who do I dance with?" He asked. They all exchanged bewildered looks: the guys now outnumbered the girls by one.

Canary pondered on it for a moment before finally deciding. "Since you came in late, take a seat by the stereo. I'll finish running through this complete number with the others and catch you up on it while they practice on their own. Wally, front and center."

Robin trudged to the seats and slouched into one. He checked for texts, replying to any he did have. He saw that Bruce called. No doubt the billionaire saw the call he'd made then decided against at the last second. He fired him a text letting him know he was fine. After that, complete boredom. Listening to the Blue Danube waltz on repeat was starting to have a mind-numbing effect on his already sleepy mind. And watching his friends stumble and spin around was initially amusing, then dizzying, and now also lulling him to sleep. He shook his head to remain alert.

What was the point in him attending this lesson anyway? Right now he could be practicing hand-to-hand combat, or hitting up the tight wires. Hell, he could even be hacking into Barbara Gordon's laptop and pretend to be a virus (that was always fun). It's not like he didn't know how to dance. He did know how to dance. Certainly not anything extravagant or fancy, but he was born with rhythm. It came with his acrobat instinct. He could pick up on a dance improvisationally and with ease. That came with both the circus background and now his detective skills.

"Ouch, Conner!"

"Sorry, M'gann."

"Ugh, no!"

"I believe you're suppose to take a step back so we can change direction, Artemis."

"Yeah, well, the floor is supposed to rotate when I want to change direction. This dance is stupid."

"Wallace,"

"Call me Wally, for the love of God! I hate my full name."

"If I catch you staring at my chest one more time, I won't explain to your uncle why you'll have two black eyes."

"Right. Sorry."

Robin stifled a yawn, sitting with his legs crossed on the seat yoga style, and slouching a little more. Seeing his teammates trying to figure out the Viennese Waltz reminded him of another dancing klutz and the days he learned how to dance. Gestures like swaying in harmony to the melody like Conner and M'gann; Artemis stepping up on Kaldur's feet to understand the steps; Wally behaving like a goof half the time to lighten up Black Canary's mood...now where had he seen that all before...?


"Master Bruce, this is pitiful." Alfred's voice bled through the crack of the door and into the hallway. Eight-year-old Dick was in the process of chasing some very bad imaginary guys on his imaginary race car down the hallway when he ran past the Wayne manor library and heard the conversation.

"I see nothing wrong." To the untrained ear, the billionaire's remark would sound rude. But after a few months of living and getting to know Bruce Wayne, Dick learned that this was Bruce's dry humor coming out for a change. The little boy walked up to the door, standing just outside and peeking in quietly. The butler and his vigilante charge were looking through filing cabinets and old documents for something or another- "big people stuff" - and the Englishman was upset about something in the morning paper now in Bruce's hands. Bruce didn't seem to care one bit about it.

"Of course you don't, but you should. It's unacceptable to have tabloids such as this."

"Paparazzi will be paparazzi, it's what they do. Besides, everyone has flaws."

"Coming from you that it quite unexpected. Regardless, I believe it's high-time you learned." The butler said with determined finality. He dropped all of the papers he was holding and took the paper from Bruce's hands, waving as he walked out the door. "Now."

Bruce blinked in stunned bewilderment. " You mean right now?"

"Did I stutter? Follow me, Master Bruce."

Little Dick ducked behind the wall as Alfred walked past, a fierce and somewhat scary look in his eye, followed by Bruce. The tall man looked down at his ward and offered him a fleeting grin, ruffling his hair as he passed. He noticed that Dick was wearing one of his leather coats as well as the helmet to his Ducati. Zitzka, the little boy's stuffed elephant, hand a yellow blanket tied to her neck and was sitting in a bright red wagon Dick was pulling along. Amused, he knelt down to Dick's eye level, fixing the jacket on his shoulders.

"What sort of adventures are the little bird and his elephant up to today?" Bruce inquired.

The little boy smiled brightly. "I'm speed racer!" He announced, doing a little spin. Now the reason for stealing his leather jacket and helmet became obvious. Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at the boy's imagination.

"Who were you racing?" Bruce asked again, indulging the enthusiastic child. Dick spun around to reach into the wagon, plucking out some doodles and giving them to his father. They were a bunch of different things around the manor: the trio in the kitchen, or them in the bat-cave, or something related to the circus. One of them was Dick being carried away by Superman and Batman was still in the cave (he assumed the half-circle over his head symbolized the cave). Bruce didn't like that one.

"The Roadrunner and Speedy Gonzalez." Dick chirped. "But they're too fast."

"Master Bruce!" Alfred called from down the hall in a warning tone.

Dick blinked, "Is Alfred angry?" as Bruce pulled out a pair of sunglasses from the leather jacket's pocket and slipped them on the boy's face. They were way too big and the lack of proportion made it look adorable on his young ward. "He might be. C'mon. After this maybe we can use the bat-mobile to beat the Roadrunner."

Dick's smile, if possible, widened. He raced down the hall after Bruce with his wagon. The pair finally met up with Alfred in the grand ballroom of Wayne manor, where music was already playing. It was classical, and reminded Dick of the same songs the circus dancers rehearsed and performed incredible tricks to. "Front and center, Master Bruce." Alfred ordered, smiling at the little boy in the man's shadow. "Master Dick, you're more than welcome to watch."

"What are you doing?"

"Teaching Master Bruce how to properly waltz." The man informed, getting Bruce to stand in the starter position. The man did so in chagrin, complaining that this wasn't necessary and having Alfred stand-in for a woman was a bit odd.

"Why?" Dick wondered, now curious. He sat where he stood. He looked like a bobble-head with the enormous helmet on his head and sunglasses slipping off the end of his nose. He eventually took them off.

"As an influential member of Gotham society and one that attends many parties, it is an obligation of Master Bruce's to know how to properly dance the Viennese waltz and not make a fool of himself." Alfred explained calmly as he coaxed Bruce through the different dance steps.

Bruce thanked his lucky stars that Dick was there. He honestly believed it was the only thing keeping Alfred from ripping his head off. Bruce was a terrible dancer. If he had two left feet he would've been lucky. He couldn't even run through the basics without messing up somewhere. He was borderline loosing his own patience to frustration. However, Dick's little chuckles and giggles of amusement kept both men in check. After what felt like hours of practice and very little progress, the men stopped for a break. Alfred went to get refreshments, leaving Bruce to practice.

"I want to try!" Dick exclaimed, long having shed his speed racer attire and just in his everyday sweats. He ran up to Bruce before the man got a chance to protest, standing opposite him. "Show me!"

A bit baffled, the billionaire playboy started off slow. "Well, first you have to learn how to count off the beat of the song." He explained and demonstrated. "...So you go one, two, three, four; one, two, three, four..."

"Count my one-two-threes, okay! Next!" Dick bounced, too energetic to care for small details. He put his feet between Bruce's, latching onto the fabric of his pressed pants with little fists. "How do the feet go? One,two, three?" He stepped about Bruce's feet in a frenzy, looking more like he was trying to do the Jive than a waltz. Bruce stepped forward slowly, rocking a bit on his heels in fear he might step on Dick's little feet. It was a little more than six months that the man adopted the little circus boy, and frankly he still hadn't wrapped a cowl on the concept of being a parent, so to speak. He felt so awkward about it, and like nothing he did was adequate. None would be the wiser if you looked at it from Dick's perspective. The boy was a people-person and thrived off socializing and being with company, any company. The first few months after his parent's deaths were rough on him (the first few weeks were horrendous), but now Dick had become Bruce's miniature shadow. He treated the man like a father. Or at least as close to one as Bruce thought his heart could bear. The man doubted he could ever get the same attention and affection John Grayson received from Dick, God rest his soul.

Dick tucked his feet flush against Bruce's, following the man's slow and deliberate moves with an unknown grin on his face and a twinkle of joy in his eyes. The pair eventually seemed to get the basic four-step footwork down pat, and Dick wanted to try the steps faster. Despite his own unease with the dance, Bruce complied, adding in the next three steps that involved the turn. They were a far cry from perfect, but at least he wasn't getting foot-tied and stumbling everywhere. Instead, now Dick was the one struggling to keep up. Bruce started slowing down the steps again, but Dick adamantly shook his head no and insisted they keep going fast. Again Bruce chuckled to himself. The kid was as stubborn as he was sometimes.

"Here," The man's deep voice said, lifting the little boy off the ground briefly. Dick was surprised when his foster father set him to stand on top of his own feet and held his hands. "Like this." Dick's tiny hands were practically swallowed by Bruce's larger, calloused ones, but he hung on tightly and rested against the man's legs as they spun around the ballroom. Dick watched their feet move about for a while, mesmerized with how perfectly they seemed to move (little did he know) then up at Bruce. The man was focused on his footwork, and Dick could help but smile widely when he was caught staring. "What?"

"I want to spin fast!" He beamed, giggling when Bruce dipping him backwards.

"You sure?" The navy-blue-eyed man gave a small, mischievous smirk. "I don't think you can handle it yet. You don't even know the basics."

Dick nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Bruce stopped dancing, and Dick clung onto the man's leg jittery with anticipation. He laughed excitedly, bouncing on his tiny feet. "Go, go!"

The pair of father and son wound up spinning around the ballroom together until they collapsed on the floor, dizzy and seeing stars. Alfred walked in on them breathless, lying on their backs and pointing at the antique paintings on the ceiling. At one point, Dick tried to stand and waltz to "I'm a little teapot," but couldn't stand long enough to sing the first verse. At another, Bruce got the completely insane and irresponsible idea to do a cartwheel while Dick held onto his leg. Alfred nearly had a heart attack; Dick thought it was the best trick ever.


"Dude...Duuuude...DUUUUUDE!"

A shove.

"Yo, Rob!" Robin grumbled, coming to, and pushing away whoever was nudging him with no energy whatsoever. He gradually looked up and saw his teammates sprawled around the exercise room floor. The music playing was no longer the Blue Danube waltz, but instead the local radio station. Wally was standing in front of him, a taunting grin on his freckled face. "Well, well, well, good afternoon, sleeping beauty!" He offered his best friend a hand up from his sleeping position; somehow, four chairs were stuck side-by-side, and Robin was lying across all four of them and wrapped comfortably in his cape. He rubbed sleep from his eyes, yawning.

"Am I next?"

"Are you next? Ha!" Wally snorted, sitting next to him and taking a swig from his water bottle. "Dance lessons ended twenty minutes ago; you've been asleep for almost two hours." Shock was clear on the boy wonder's face, which was all the more amusing to the speedster. "You didn't notice? We didn't even bother waking you up. You were so tired you fell asleep in that weird yoga pose you do to focus. Nearly slid off your chair too. I caught you though. Supes put the chairs together for ya."

"...Oh." Robin said eventually, genuinely surprised with himself. He rarely fell asleep during the day anymore, let alone when he wasn't home. The previous evening's patrol took more out of him than he realized. "Thanks."

"Welcome. Though I wouldn't be too happy if I were you. Black Canary may have taken pity on you today, but you'll have a lot of catching up to do next week."

Robin shrugged with ease, a nostalgic smile tickling his lips. "I'm not worried. I learned the waltz a couple of years back."

Wally shot him an unamused glower. "Oh yeah, and who taught you that? The Prima-ballerina of Russia or something?" He teased sarcastically. Robin snorted a cackle.

"No, why would I learn from a ballerina, Wally?"

"It was a joke. Although, knowing both sides of you, it was probably someone equally as credible."

Now Robin did smile to himself. "The best teacher I know."


A/n: Surprise! An unexpected daddybats chapter...well, more along the lines of daddybruce. Still some adorable baby Dick, so it's all good. I feel like with everything the fandom is going through right now, we could use some fluff.

Speaking of which... #SaveYoungJusticeandGreenLant ern

From the staff behind YJ, including creators Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti, "the number one and surefire way to get Cartoon Network's attention and have the show renewed for a third season in the fall/winter of 2013/2014 is to raise viewer ratings during episode airings, purchases of the episodes on itunes, visiting the Young Justice page on CN and playing the games, and the purchase of any certified YJ merchandise...aka, the t-shirts..."

Above all else, the above HAS to happen if we want Cartoon Network to take us seriously. However, taking it further, sending in emails, letters, and calling Cartoon Network asking them to keep the show/why they're cancelling the show/how can we keep the show/ "I love the show please keep it!" is also extremely helpful! It shows them how much the fans really care! Yet keep in mind to be adults and not yell at them. Odds are, whoever picks up your call or reads your letter doesn't actually call the shots, that's just their job. To deal with us, the fans. Let's show them we're a mature audience.

Live-tweeting episodes with hashtags #DCNation #SaveYoungJusticeandGreenLant ern #YoungJustice and the attention-grabber hashtag of the week (found on the YJasks tumblr page)) helps. Liking and leaving messages on the official YJ facebook page helps. Signing the online petition going around also helps. But these pale in comparison to what was mentioned above. If you really want to make a concrete contribution to saving the show, you need to do the above.

Links to everything I mentioned here will be provided next update. In three days. promise ;] Next chapter is pet problems. (You guessed it: more daddybats and Bruce galore...meaning more baby Robin.)

Stay whelmed and feel the aster,

-Panda