A/N: Prompt request from regeek on tumblr "Jaime and Bart tried to foil a bank robbery, but got trapped in the vault by the robbers. It's a special hi-tech vault, so Bart can't phase through, and the two have to sit and wait for the Team to find them."

"Scarab says we're not 'compatible' with the tech the vault's made of," Jaime mutters, more to himself than to Bart. "Guess we'll have to wait until the Team finds us."

Bart doesn't flinch, falter, or otherwise acknowledge what Jaime's just said. He just paces. Jaime knows that the speedster can't stay still for long (there's a surprising amount of energy for a body that size. Not that Jaime's saying Bart's small, or built like a child, or anything.) Bart actually has a pretty nice body for a fourteen year old. In that his muscles are developing at a healthy rate. Just an observation. From a completely heterosexual standpoint. Dios mio. They've been trapped in the vault for, maybe five minutes?, and he's already losing focus. Well, actually, his focus is pretty good. At least, his focus on how Bart's red-tinted brown hair is messily parted to the point that it looks intentional is, and his attentiveness to how even in the dim lighting, Bart's green eyes still seem luminous.

"So, you can't vibrate out?" Jaime asks, breaking the silence. Silence is seldom with Bart around, but this kind of silence isn't relaxed or awkward; it's charged with a sort of tension that Jaime hasn't experienced before.

"No, Jaime, I can't vibrate out!" Bart exclaims, an octave higher than usual. He's still pacing, and it's unnerving, at best. "We're trapped in a high-tech vault and there's hardly any room and we can't get out, and it feels like there's no air in here."

"Are you…" Jaime's voice trails off. He's muscled his way through enough panic-attacks to be able to recognize the symptoms. And from the sound of it, Bart's experiencing one right now. "…Claustrophobic?" he finishes.

"I… no."

The idea of being afraid of small spaces is strange to Jaime, but maybe that's because he's spent enough time being encased in Beetle armor. [Jaime Reyes, the Impulse's heart rate slowed when you questioned him. Distraction is an effective anxiety reducer.] Biting his cheek, Jaime steps forwards. "Prove it," he blurts. Why did he do that? Maybe there really isn't enough air in here.

Bart takes a predictable step backwards, until he's pressed against the cool wall of the vault."I'm not afraid," he says adamantly, his teeth gritted. "I… just don't like having people in my personal space."

That's probably the most blatant lie Bart's ever said. He doesn't have even the faintest grasp of what personal space is, considering the number of times he's touched Jaime on the shoulder, grabbed his hand, or slung an arm around the Hispanic teen's shoulder. [The Impulse's pulse has spiked. He is lying, Jaime Reyes.] Khaji Da informed, though Jaime had gathered that much for himself.

"kidflash," Jaime corrects aloud this time, before risking another step forward. There's not a lout of space in the vault. Bart ducks around him at an unnatural speed. Well, unnatural for a regular person. For a metahuman, it's pretty normal.

"I'm not claustrophobic!" Bart snaps and Jaime freezes because he doesn't think he's ever heard Bart yell. "Look, when they tortured me and Gar, they kept us in pods,"—Jaime doesn't have to ask to know that by 'they,' Bart means the 'Reach'—"There wasn't room to move, and every time I exhaled my chest pressed against the pod and it was like there wasn't any room to breathe, either, like everything was getting smaller, the walls were closing in. T-they shot out bursts of electricity. It was kind of ironic, though, since, ya know, Grandpa Barry got his powers from a reaction between lightning and lab chemicals."

Jaime gulps, and it occurs to him that Bart might have been using anger as a distraction. It was a good way to out a panic-attack; distract yourself until it goes away. Since so much of anxiety is subconscious, as long as you're able to distract your conscious mind, the anxiety should fade to a sort of distant buzz in the back of your mind.

"I'm sorry," Jaime says slowly, with trepidation, "but, Bart, it's okay to feel afraid."

"I'm not afraid. There's a difference between having a panic-attack and feeling panicky. But I'm not having either."

"It's okay to have bad days," he says astutely, "I used to get panic-attacks, you know."

"Really?" Bart's voice is softer now. Still not quite normal, but more level than it was before.

"Yeah, before high school started, when the scarab fused with my spine—when I heard its voice in my head, I thought I was going schizo—ph, and this one time I forgot to clear my browsing history. The last one was a joke."

"Right," Bart says in a disbelieving tone.

Jaime rolls his eyes, an action he's not sure if Bart can even detect in the dark room. "Look, the point is that I was afraid. I could list the symptoms: dizziness, shakiness, nausea, but the point is that they don't last. Just because we're heroes doesn't mean we can't… we're not allowed to show weakness."

"My chest feels tight," Bart admits, "like there's a weight there, trapping all the air. It's so moded. I read that slowing your breathing helps, though."

Jaime nods. "Did you research panic attacks?" He asks. He knows Bart's kind of a genius, but this still somehow came as a surprise.

"Came from an apocalyptic future," Bart says, pointing to himself, "anxiety and post traumatic stress are common side effects. I did my research; anxiety comes from an almond shaped set of neurons in the brain called the amygdala, which is where the fight or flight reaction happens. Most common mental disorder in North America. I also grind my teeth a lot in the night. Jay bought me a mouth guard. But, um, hey, about the slowing your breathing thing."

"Yeah?" Jaime presses.

"I think kissing would help."

Jaime couldn't contain a snort. "How would that help? You're supposed to slow your heartbeat; not speed it up."

Bart blinks, his bottle-green eyes bright beneath his frame of long, dark lashes. "Not if it's a slow kiss," he says innocently.

Jaime doesn't bother to question the younger teen's logic. He leans forwards, noting how Bart's breath hitches from the close proximity, before he covers the speedster's mouth with his own. Their lips caress gently, but Bart kind of freezes, so Jaime pulls away.

"Nono," he says quickly, "it's fine." He engages another kiss, and Jaime doesn't witness anymore anxious symptoms after that. Their movements are subtle, tentative, and Jaime presses openmouthed kisses along Bart's jaw, before moving back to kiss him on the lips. He's too enraptured by the feel of Bart against him, to notice that the vault's opened. He doesn't notice that the Team is even there, until Bart breaks the kiss. Jaime freezes.

"Sorry, but this room's taken," Bart quips unabashedly, "you'll need to find a different one."

Jaime's face is now colored with embarrassment, but he has no luck extracting himself from Bart. Some of the fabric from Bart's suit snagged on Jaime's armor.

Despite the snickers from Cassie, Gar, and pretty much everyone else, Aqualad simply gives them a cursory glance. "Perhaps we will need to reassess which squads you two are on. We would not want any further occurrences to potentially compromise a Team mission." Kaldur's voice was amused, but, regardless, that was the last time Jaime and Bart were paired together on a Team mission.