Little Bird Chapter 4, a young justice fanfic

Fandom: Young Justice
Characters: Dick Grayson/Wally West
Rated: K+
Word Count: 3566
Summary: Wally visits Dick on the anniversary of his parent's death and takes him on a picnic by the lake.
Notes: A little bit of angst given the day, but this is mostly cavity inducing fluff, fluff, fluff, some water-soaked hijinks and more fluff.

With special appearance by Emily D.

Written with ninjawing tumblr!

"Hey, uh, Dick?" He swallowed the last bite. "Do you mind grabbing my bag real quick? I should, uhm …"

He let his sentence trail off, trying to suppress the subtle blush creeping into his cheeks as he gestured to the bag, just out of his arms reach, but within Dick's.

…Homework?

"Um… yeah."

You brought homework with you?

That… was more of a Robin thing to do. Wally usually separated work from play without batting an eye, especially when it came to Dick. Dick was the one who needed to have his book stolen or a hand stuck through his holocomp to make him stop working on school or a case.

Wally scooted them forward again, Dick's feet brushing along the ground as he went. It wasn't hard to remember when that didn't happen even when he was sitting on the swing alone. He'd grown. Was still growing.

And as much as he enjoyed being able to pull the taller-than-thou card on Artemis now, finally, he was also aware that the more he grew, the more difficult it became to control his body. He had to retrain himself for every extra half inch, and that was, to put it lightly, a pain. But if Wally was going to grow some more, Dick was willing to put up with all the trouble just to not fall back.

It was a stupid thing to compete over, especially since it was out of both their control, but he had years of short jokes to make up for, okay?

Picking up the backpack, Dick swung it over to his own lap, surreptitiously grabbing the tart Wally was bringing to his mouth in the process. He drew back and grinned at his boyfriend, cheeks bulging and eyes bright, awkwardly chewing as he unzipped the backpack and peeled it open.

"Howar y'gon' d' h'mruk w'me s'tin' in y'r lap?" Dick managed around his mouthful, wriggling in his seat to make the point.

Wally cleared his throat, because honestly, that was a pretty good question. The swing wasn't exactly stable, and balancing food and a book and a boyfriend on a toga-covered-lap that threatened to blow up and expose his lovelies at any moment was kind of an ordeal.

Hmrph, he concurred, and managed to awkwardly slide Dick's legs around to maneuver him into a crab-leg position straddling Wally, so at least Dick could keep himself in place if they had to.

That left him nose to nose with his raven-haired bf, and he couldn't help but smile just slightly at the way Dick's eyebrow's quirked quizzically over his bright blue eyes and the corner of his peach lips twitched in amusement.

"There," Wally said, decisively handing the last tupperware full of tarts to Dick while Wally fished a book out of his bag: The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.

"English," he explained helpfully, clearing his throat again. He was starting to sound nervous.

Which he was.

"I have uhm, uh, a thing - paper - this week."

And he did. A physics report. He wouldn't need Emily for real until finals in a month, but Wally was desperately trying to carve an escape in case Dick laughed his ass off in two minutes.

He would have laughed a year ago for sure.

But maybe not this time, and he'd done a little of this for Artemis (who'd also laughed, kinda, but, dude that's what you did for girlfriends so she had to at least give him that, and in the end he was pretty sure she liked it). The poetry thing hadn't crossed his mind - nothing all that "romantic" had crossed his mind, exactly, since you didn't "do" that for boyfriends - and Dick maybe Dick wouldn't want that sort of thing, but ...

… and actually, Wally had already thought about Dick in poetry class that year.

Emily talked a lot about robins.

Most of the robin poems weren't all that directly related, but they put Dick on his mind, and some of the other poems …

He got a little red in the face that he'd felt so sappy about his best friend.

So.

"You, uh, wanna hear - w-what I'm studying?" It was an effort to keep his voice steady, and he didn't wait for a response as he thumbed to the page.

Wrapping his arms around Dick and out past him, he held the book over Dick's shoulders, so that he didn't have to make eye contact as he was reading. "Uhm … "Hope" is the thing with feathers—"

Wally sort of side-eyed Dick, trying not to mumble as a red blush spread out over his cheeks. This was stupid, right? But he cleared his throat and kept on.

"That perches in the soul—

And, uhm, sings the tune without the words—

And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—

And sore must be the storm—

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—

And on the strangest Sea—

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb—of Me."

He trailed off into a sort of awkward silence, not sure if he should just, forge ahead onto another that he liked or wait for Dick to react or … what.

Dick drew back uncertainly, watching Wally's eyes focused past his shoulders with almost desperate concentration, and it took only the first two lines for him to realize.

That his boyfriend—dorky, sciencey boyfriend—was reading him a Dickinson poem… about robins.

He would have laughed. He probably should have laughed.

But this was beyond left field. Whatever words Dick tended to associate with his best friend, 'romantic' wasn't really one of them. Dick was the one who went all out. The grand gestures, blatantly sappy declarations, those were all on him.

Wally liked to keep these things more… quiet. Smaller. He preferred having plausible deniability.

There was nothing deniable about what he was doing right now.

Wally wasn't very good at recitation; Alfred wouldn't be pleased. But this was also clearly not a regular occurrence, so Dick was willing to forgive him. And he kinda wanted to laugh, but. Well. Wally had a nice voice.

His mom used to read to him. No one had read to him in nine years.

The poem winded down. Dick cocked his head patiently, waiting for the inevitable awkwardness that would drag the speedster down the moment it was over.

And there it was.

"Why that one?" Robin kept his voice even and curious, swallowing the bubble of laughter in favor of not embarrassing his boyfriend any more than he already seemed to be.

Oh crap. If Wally's cheeks were flushed before, they were paper white now. He asked why.

The only thing Wally could think of worse than being laughed at in this situation was having to explain himself. He was having a hard time deciding whether or not to just say "Uh, I dunno, just for class I guess," and run to the next poem or break down and admit that there wasn't really any paper and that he might as well have doodled Dick's name in the margins of his notes in English class all last fall (which he definitely did not actually do).

It was true that he wouldn't have ever, ever thought about any of this if he weren't forced to pick a poem to take apart for his quarterly final; he never would have picked this one if he hadn't been fighting with Dick … or rather, maybe he would have picked this one, but it wouldn't have meant anything at all to him if he hadn't been fighting with Dick for months at that point; if he wasn't feeling reluctant to admit how lonely it was without his best friend.

If the fact he had loved that one kiss he had with that best friend wasn't constantly in the back of his mind …

Wow this was embarrassing. But it was an honest question.

"Uhm, well, for finals during Winter Quarter we had to pick a poem to take apart and … I just, I dunno. Dude, she talks so much about robins. It popped out, and turned out it kinda reminded me of you, that's all. With the singing in storms and, uhm, never asking for help." Wally swallowed. "I mean, I wouldn't have normally. And today's a big deal for you, so … thought I'd read it …?"

His sentence ended in an upturned questioning lilt: he still couldn't tell whether Dick thought this was dumb or not. "I uh, have another if you want," he murmured as he flipped to the next dog-eared page. It was the only book from that class he didn't sell back.

Hmm this works nice with the sunset and all behind the lake …

"This one's kinda long, but …" he began,

"Bring me the sunset in a cup,

Reckon the morning's flagons up

And say how many Dew,

Tell me how far the morning leaps—

Tell me what time the weaver sleeps

Who spun the breadth of blue!"

Wally took a deep breath; he was starting to be at least a little less nervous now.

"Write me how many notes there be

In the new Robin's ecstasy

Among astonished boughs—

How many trips the Tortoise makes—

How many cups the Bee partakes,

The Debauchee of Dews!

Also, who laid the Rainbow's piers,

Also, who leads the docile spheres

By withes of supple blue?

Whose fingers string the stalactite—

Who counts the wampum of the night

To see that none is due?

Who built this little Alban House

And shut the windows down so close

My spirit cannot see?

Who'll let me out some gala day

With implements to fly away,

Passing Pomposity? "

He backed up a little when he was done, grinning and shrugging, still thumbing through the book for another one, in case Dick actually liked this. "That one's just got 'Robin's ecstasy' in it, that's all," he offered by way of "why" with a little snicker.

Surprise was one thing; disbelief was entirely another. Dick wasn't about to put Wally down for thinking about him while reading a poem in class when he was trying so hard to be romantic… and succeeding.

Dick was, after all, sapiosexual to a degree. And while Wally reciting poetry wasn't exactly a turn-on, it did give him some serious butterflies when his boyfriend told him why.

But hard as he tried, he couldn't stop himself from slipping the speedster a smirk and a quip.

"What would you know about a robin's ecstasy?" His eyes glimmered with mischief. "You haven't seen what it's like."

Yet, his mind supplied without warning.

Wally cocked an eyebrow and shrugged meaningfully at Dick's 'robin's ecstasy' comment. He'd ask Dick to teach him all about it later, trying to shrug off the thoughts that came unbidden— how much he wondered what Dick would look like, what he'd sound like …

He chuckled inwardly—normally, he would totally be doing this only to get laid—that's what dudes do, right? That's why poetry was invented. But pfft, he sure as hell wasn't betting on that when he pulled his guy friend into his lap to read him Dickinson. He was lucky Dick wasn't actually laughing his ass off and kicking him into the water again.

Wally's brain could move as fast as his mouth, but it rarely did. Dick wasn't sure if it was a conscious block or what, but he leaned forward, winding his arms around Wally's neck and leaning against him so he could rest his chin on the redhead's shoulder.

The sunset was warm on his back, but Wally was warmer, and… Dick didn't even remember the last time he'd clung to a person like this, chest to chest. Bruce had never been much of a carry-your-kid-to-bed kind of parent. If he fell asleep in the Cave or in the couch, he'd usually be woken up and escorted to his room, and on the off chance that he was far too out of it for that, Bruce would slide his arms under his shoulders and knees and pick him up like he was an infant, not a toddler, head carefully supported in the crook of a large arm, as though he'd fall apart if he weren't treated like the most fragile glass. There was no chance for him to hold back; no, Bruce was far too practical for that. It was easier to pick him up that way, and set him down as well, and he didn't even have to worry about Dick's… koala tendencies.

Unless Dick was only pretending, that is, and maneuvered himself in his 'sleep'.

He tightened his arms around Wally and tried not to laugh. No wonder he was so clingy.

"Read me another one?" he breathed.

I like being read to.

It wasn't something he'd thought to tell anyone.

Yet.

But maybe he could tell Wally.

Okay. Wally reveled in Dick's weight on his lap, the feel of his arms on his shoulders, the soft tones in his ear as he asked him to read another one. He flipped through pages and was starting to relax into it when his stomach grumbled.

"Ah, sure, just …" he pulled out one of the tarts from the tupperware now lodged on their laps and popped it in his mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing. "Shorry, here … kinda long, too."

The pages flipped farther back.

"I have a Bird in spring

Which for myself doth sing—

The spring decoys.

And as the summer nears—

And as the Rose appears,

Robin is gone."

Yet do I not repine

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown—

Learneth beyond the sea

Melody new for me

And will return.

Fast is a safer hand

Held in a truer Land

Are mine—

And though they now depart,

Tell I my doubting heart

They're thine.

In a serener Bright,

In a more golden light

I see

Each little doubt and fear,

Each little discord here

Removed.

Then will I not repine,

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown

Shall in a distant tree

Bright melody for me

Return."

The words hung in the air for a second. He hoped this one was pretty obvious … the "why" of it.

He dropped his head onto Dick's shoulder.

I'm just … really glad you're here, Dick."

Dick blinked. What could he say to that?

There was 'me too', which wasn't nearly enough.

The 'I love you' that Wally already knew.

And 'for now'—too morbid a thought for a day already clouded with unpleasant memories.

Too real to consider after nearly a year apart.

The only reply he could think of was in prose, Dickinson for Dickinson, but Richard was the one who knew the words and he pushed further away, safer in anonymity, and Dick wasn't nearly clever enough to find something on his own. Romance wasn't exactly Robin's forte. That's not how he was made.

Richard was unwilling to submit Wally to the same charms he used to trick women at Bruce's parties. Dick couldn't say he disagreed.

You should read to me more often, he shoved down, because Wally did enough for him already, and no one had asked him to visit Dick today. His best friend did all of it on his own, and really. Robin owed him enough.

The speedster's body thrummed with warmth. Dick curled against it, content with the knowledge that Wally was there at all.

"Can we…" his voice came out so small, he had to restart. "Can we stay like this, just a little longer?"

"Sure, dude," Wally said softly, and he put the book down on top of his bag at his feet, wrapping his arms tightly back around Dick, and pressed his face lightly into the crook of Dick's neck. "As long as you want."

The evening breeze was brisk-ish, but no match for Wally's heat, and he was actually really comfortable in the makeshift toga and bare feet. It smelled like grass and tarts, and it was soft against his skin as he pushed against the ground beneath the swing, a little worn from the years of feet pressing their to launch the rider into the sky.

Wally's feet never left the ground as he rocked them gently back and forth, in a hypnotic rhythm as the sun's final rays spread across the sky. He didn't know if it was because he was tired from running around all day , or if Dick just had a calming effect on him that he couldn't quite get elsewhere, but …

It was just … really peaceful.

He planted a chaste, soft, fleeting kiss against Dick's neck, marveling at the thrum of his pulse beneath his lips, the rise and fall of his ribs beneath his hands, the shape of his head tucked by Wally's shoulder.

"We can be here as long as you want," he murmured again against his collarbone as he cradled his head there.

It had probably been a few minutes of silence, of Wally not running his mouth quicker than his feet and Dick not fidgeting his way off his boyfriend's lap, but when Dick finally drew back, it felt as though only a moment had passed, time flying too fast for him to keep up.

His eyes met Wally's.

Nearly five months since that first night Dick told his best friend that he loved him, nearly three months since Wally said it back. Almost three since Dick all but pulled out a promise ring in front of scores of the most important people in the world and Wally basically said yes.

But Dick wasn't sure he'd ever believed him the way he did right now, when no one was in mortal danger, when he wasn't screaming in his sleep or saying it first, when it wasn't a special day for him and Wally had no obligations to look at him like—

Like.

Like he was the most amazing thing in the world.

The 'why' of it had never been so irrelevant.

When Dick shifted back and Wally pulled away from Dick's collarbone into the crisp bite of the evening air, the stars had started twinkling to life in the twilight. He blinked, lids heavy, and smiled up into Dick's eyes, dyed dark blue in the evening light, and marveled at the way Dick could send goosebumps up his arms with a look like that.

And Dick kissed him.

Kissed him like his life was ending, nipped his lip because they might not be here tomorrow just like the bruise he was leaving, reveled in the taste and smell and touch like it was his last time being here in Wally's arms.

Dick kissed him with an abandon that had everything to do with his fear of falling and nothing at all, because he was falling deeper and deeper and almost off the swing, and he couldn't bring himself to care at all.

He kissed Wally with such fervor that Wally's vision went white for a moment, as the kiss dragged him under, like being dropped straight into the lake, overwhelmed with the taste and touch of Dick and nothing else. His palms tingled where they gripped Dick's shirt, fisting the cloth as he navigated the sweet, subtle push and pull of Dick above him.

Each kiss was warm, wet, electric with a strawberry tart chaser, and Wally wound his fingers into Dick's hair to keep him from having to chase that too far.

But the surge of Dick in his hands proved to be a tide he couldn't quite navigate, and he felt himself going under again … under the swing as it unceremoniously tipped the two squirming unruly occupants flat on ground beneath it.

It took everything Robin had not to instinctively vault off Wally, because that would hurt the redhead far more than a short fall, but the result of it was smashing his chin into his boyfriend's collarbone and clamping his teeth down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to fill his mouth with liquid copper.

Ow.

At least Wally was whimpering too, rubbing at his clavicle to relieve the sharp pain of bone hitting bone. Dick scrambled off his chest and turned his head to inconspicuously spit onto the grass while Wally's eyes were closed, then glanced back to the speedster, tongue gingerly poking at the split in his cheek.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching out to cushion Wally's head in his palm, feeling for a bump. Oh, there definitely was one, but it wouldn't be very big. The grass broke a bit of the fall. Robin couldn't help but laugh a little. "Dude, your balance needs work."

Okay, so maybe he was laughing a lot.

Dick leaned forward for a final nip to Wally's bottom lip.

"Think that's a sign that we should head out now?"