A/N: IT TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO COPY AND PASTE THIS INTO HERE WITHOUT LOSING ALL MY ITALICS! NO WORD-BY-WORD REFORMAT ON THIS BABY!
Sooo…I honestly thought the Young Justice fandom was dead? But was alerted to the fact it was not when a TikTok about "The Painful Truth" got popular enough that the story got somewhere around 1000 kudos in like 2-3 days? :,) I'm so glad I'm not the only one still hung up on season one (and two…after the subsequent attempts at seasons, I will even say I miss season two) and the characters :,) I teased this story existing way back in Movie Fright, and now it's finally here XD
The OG date on the note for this story was 1/12/15, and the last edit was 4/13/16 at 3549 words. First revival attempt was a few months ago when I wasn't busy for the first time in seven years. Second revival attempt was now, because THE OG YJ FANDOM IS NOT DEAD and I am SO HAPPY ABOUT IT! :D I've also finally caught up on MHA through season 6 and have been reading a crap ton of fics for it, so I am back in teen superhero mood, lol. I also wanted to wait till the hype on my account died before finishing/posting, because that lowkey scared me (I'm grateful, but scared). XD
Enjoy the chaos! :)
0. Prelude
Dick and Wally lounged in the window seat of their usual dessert joint in the dead center of Central City, munching on arguably the best churros to ever grace the Milky Way as the rush hour city traffic ground by.
Or well, one of them was eating churros.
Wally watched his friend take an unnecessarily dainty bite, mouth swimming with a rather embarrassing amount of saliva. "Dude, can I please have one?"
Dick smirked, eyebrow raised over the flattened rim of his sunglasses. "Nah."
"Aw, come on, man!" Wally protested. "I thought we were best friends!"
Dick sucked excess cinnamon sugar off his thumb, releasing it with a pop. "We are," he agreed.
Wally crossed his arms, sinking moodily in his seat. "Best friends share churros with each other."
Dick rolled his eyes, the movement lost behind his shades. "I bought your churros, Wally. That counts as sharing. And it's not my fault you wolfed them down so fast."
"Speedster metabolism!"
"So you keep saying." Dick sighed, pinching a pastry between his remaining clean fingers—left ring and pointer—from the paper sleeve and tossing it across the table. "Here. Now stop watching me eat, you creeper."
Wally snatched the churro midair, cinnamon sugar spraying as he stuffed the gift from heaven into his mouth. Ugh. So good. "Tanks, 'an! Oo 'on't 'gret it."
Dick scrunched up his nose in disgust at the fresh spray of crumbs flying across the table with Wally's gratitude. "Just eat the churro, Wally."
Wally swallowed, smacking his lips with a satisfied sigh. He reverently licked the sugar off his fingers, gaze wandering to the window on his left. Abruptly, a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. He sat bolt upright, staring at the street outside.
Dick straightened, immediately on high alert. He followed Wally's probing gaze out the window. "Dude, what—"
Wally lunged forward, socking Dick on the arm. "Red one!"
"Ow!" Dick yelped, more surprised than pained. He glared at Wally. "What was that for? I gave you the stupid churro, didn't I?"
Wally grinned, unapologetic. "Slug Bug."
Dick blinked. As if suddenly reminded of the many times he questioned his friend's sanity. "Meaning?"
Wally gave him a disbelieving look. "You don't know what Slug Bug is?"
Dick huffed. "Apparently not."
"Okay, you know what Volkswagen is, right?"
Dick stared at his friend. "Yes," he said slowly. Patiently. "It's a German car company."
Wally nodded, popping a finger gun at the younger boy. "Bingo. Their most well-known car is what everyone calls the 'beetle car.'"
"Yes. And your point?"
Wally frowned, wounded. "Getting there. Slug Bug is a game. Whenever you see a beetle, you have to punch the other person and yell its color. The first one to punch the other gets a point. For example." He flourished his wrist. "Green one!" he cried, bopping Dick solidly on the arm again.
"Ow!" Dick snapped, indignant. "Why?!"
Wally threw his arms up in exasperation. "Didn't we just go over this? Look!" He grabbed Dick's face by the chin and turned him toward the window, pointing. "See it?"
Dick followed his friend's finger, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of a light green Volkswagen beetle just as it turned the corner and out of sight. "Green one?"
Wally glanced at him skeptically. "Yes," he said, like that explained everything. "You guys don't play this at your fancy private school?"
Dick gave a short bark of laughter. "Uh, no. The answer is in your own description."
Wally shrugged. "Your loss." He scooted out of the booth, stretching his arms over his head so his vertebrae crack-crack-cracked. "Well, it's been fun, but gotta run. See you at that damp little hidey hole whose name shall not be mentioned?"
Dick held up a hand. "Hold on."
Wally shot him a puzzled look, already half-turned to leave. "What?"
At first, Dick didn't look at him, digging around in the inner pocket of his hoodie. "I just gotta…"
Seconds ticked by and Wally began to fidget, glancing down at his watch. He couldn't afford to be late home for the third night in a row—he would be grounded for sure. And then how was he supposed to eat M'gann's cookies before Superboy pegged them all if he couldn't go to the Cave?
Just when Wally was about to yank the bird's pocket inside out to find whatever it was for himself, Dick pounced across the table, socking Wally squarely in the stomach. "Yellow one!"
The air left his lungs in an undignified umph, the speedster folding over to clutch painfully at his midsection. He glared up at the grinning Dick; or as much as he could when he could barely breathe. Dang freaking bats and their freaking black belts in every fighting style under the sun.
"Dude," Wally wheezed. "Not…cool."
The answering sharklike grin was…about what Wally should have expected from antagonizing the smaller boy, honestly.
When Wally was certain the couple dozen churros he'd consumed weren't about to make a re-entrance, he carefully straightened, glaring piteously at his friend. "Cheater! You can only punch people on the arm."
Dick shrugged, indifferent. "You said 'punch the other person.' You never specified where."
Wally huffed angrily. "Fine. I'll let you go this time. But that's still a foul, and I've got one point on you."
"No, you don't," Dick protested. "I didn't even know how to play when you hit me the first time. That wouldn't be fair."
"You punched me in the stomach," Wally countered. "Technically a penalty."
Dick folded his arms. "Once again: Teacher error. What I don't know can't count against me."
Wally glanced at his watch again, wincing. He now had two minutes to make it across the state before dinner. "Okay, fine," he conceded. "Let's just reset. Whole new scoreboard. Game starts for realsies as soon as we both leave."
"Asterous," Dick agreed, far more cheerfully than Wally would prefer. "See you later!"
Exiting the diner, Wally set out at a half run to get out of the crowded streets before activating the Speedforce. But not before he heard Robin's excited cackle behind him. A flicker of doubt flashed through his mind, the initial thrill of pulling one over his friend beginning to fade. Maybe teaching a Bat how to play Slug Bug wasn't the brightest idea he'd had this week…
1.
"Rob, duck!" Wally yelled, diving behind an innocent vehicle as an explosion rocked the building. He gasped as a heat wave rippled across the floor, sizzling across the outer layer of his suit as it rolled around the edges of the van he'd dodged behind.
Where were they? In a parking garage. Where was the parking garage? Somewhere in North America. Wally may have zoned out briefly during the mission briefing.
The point was, they had been sent to investigate a disturbance at the edge of some city or other because somehow all members of the League were occupied. Not that Wally inherently minded. It was a great chance to stretch his legs.
But back on topic. Long story short, they'd encountered a wild, buff teenager with a stolen extreme flame thrower, laughing maniacally as he blasted nearby buildings, trees, and taxi cabs indiscriminately.
And that's how he and Rob ended up playing a twisted game of peek-a-boo with a psychopath in the middle of a full parking garage. They had also somehow ended up on the top level. No, Wally wasn't sure how.
Oh, and he may have hit his head in his haste to get out of the bioship before the secondary hatch opened. Maybe he could blame that for his current partial memory loss...
"You can't defeat me!" the maniac cackled, a fresh wave of flames licking up the purple paint of Wally's van-shield. "I am Fire! I am Death!"
"Which one?" hollered a familiar voice across the aisle. Robin became visible, standing on the hood of a red truck. He smirked at the bad guy. "And hasn't that line been taken?"
The Boy Wonder launched into the air just in time for the car he had been standing on to join the general inferno. He somersaulted backward, landing hands first on the pavement to perform several back handsprings as he dodged the clumsily wielded flame thrower.
Deciding it was time to rejoin the fray, Wally zipped out from his cover. "Hey, Hotman!" Wally hollered. As the villain turned, Wally stuck his fingers in his ears, waggling his tongue to a garbled: "Flameo!"
He dove to the side just in time to avoid his own fire bath, ducking behind yet another car. One good thing about cramped parking garages: There were a lot of places to hide.
"KF!" a voice hissed behind him, a hand planting itself on his shoulder.
Wally flinched, yelping in surprise at the unexpected appearance of a certain Boy Wonder. "Dude!"
"Sssshh!" Robin hissed, crouching beside him and peering around the front bumper of their current hiding place.
The lenses of the Boy Wonder's mask shifted back and forth before he ducked his head back behind the hood. "Okay, here's the plan: You distract him, I knock him out from behind."
Wally frowned in what was definitely not a pout. "Why am I the distraction?"
Robin raised an eyebrow. "Because you're loud, annoying, and tend to rub the bad guys up the wrong way."
Wally considered this. "Fair enough. But hey, you—" He turned to find his best friend was already gone. Typical.
Rolling his eyes, Wally did a quick scan of his surroundings. Okay. Distraction. Right in his wheelhouse. Now all he needed was something that would keep the perp's attention long enough for Rob to do his thing.
The telltale screech of sirens echoed in the near-not distance, a squeal of oversized brakes echoing somewhere below. Oh yeah. That would do nicely.
Kicking the Speedforce into gear, Wally zipped outside, snatching the end of the fire house hanging off the side of the firetruck before streaking back up the side of the building to perch on the thick outer ledge of the top floor. The fire hose was now stretched taut in the open air about 50 feet from the villain's exposed back.
"Hey, Zuko wannabe!" he yelled, brandishing the hose. He gave the guy two seconds to turn around, watched his eyes widen in terror. "WATER TRIIIIBBBBEEE!"
The perp flinched, hands instinctively yet futilely coming to cover his face.
And…Wally shook the end of the hose. Not one drop. Tapped the metal part. Bone dry. "Aw, come on!"
Realizing no overpowered blast of liquid was coming, the perp dropped his hands, the glint returning to his eyes. "Ha! You thought you could defeat me? The masterful, pyrotechnical, flaming sorcerer of—"
Whatever his villain name was, Wally was saved from hearing it. A familiar cackle rent the air simultaneous with the familiar THUD of an unconscious body hitting the floor.
Robin somersaulted easily over the perp's head, popping up and planting a hand on his hip. Wally cursed the fact he'd spent enough time around Bats to recognize the single eyebrow raised under the mask.
"Really, KF?" Robin snickered. "Did you even check if it was attached to a water source?"
Wally sniffed. "Of course not, I didn't want to kill the guy! You asked for a distraction, I provided. In a nonlethal manner, with a relevant cultural reference. What more do you want from me?"
The second eyebrow joined the first. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," the bird chirped cheerfully.
The two best friends stood in the smoking parking garage, eyeing the prone form of the perp at their feet.
"Firemen probably want their hose back," Robin remarked.
"Yeah yeah, I get it," Wally grumbled.
"But in all seriousness," Robin continued, "thanks for the distraction. Definitely got the job done."
"No prob, Bob," Wally returned, raising his hand for their semi-signature, patent pending high five. "Secondary Dynamic Duo strikes again!"
Robin nodded once, stepping closer to Wally. He brought his hand back, and—punched him squarely in the shoulder.
"Black one!" he trilled, leaping back as the speedster recoiled.
"Seriously?" Wally squawked. "Where?!"
Robin pointed, and Wally could just make out the battered form of a beetle car upended on the other end of the floor. He sagged in defeat. "Aw, man." Squinted… "Dude. I think it's green."
Robin shrugged. "How was I supposed to know? It's burned and blackened. Still counts."
Wally groaned. "I hate you so much."
2.
Wally paced back and forth impatiently on the rooftop of an old abandoned warehouse, trying to control his raging boredom. He hated stakeouts. Not just hated, he absolutely loathed the stupid things. They were so uncomfortable, and long, and boring, and just...why couldn't the Bats just do it? They seemed to love sitting still for hours on end, doing absolutely nothing, staring into the void and contemplating the blackness of their souls…
You're awfully quick to stereotype, a calm, teasing voice said in his mind.
Wally's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he remembered the mental link. Whatever, he huffed back at the bird. It's true.
You seriously think I like these things? Robin somehow mentally snorted. There's a difference between being used to something, and liking something, KF.
Enough, Aqualad's calm voice interrupted. We need to focus on the mission at hand. Team, report.
Nothing here, M'gann relayed.
Nothing here either, Artemis agreed.
No suspicious activity so far, Robin stated.
Nothing, Conner huffed.
Zip, zero, nada, Wally snapped. What's taking these guys so long? I'm so bored!
The dealers aren't due for another half hour, the Boy Wonder reminded him. We just came early because that incoming thunderstorm might have convinced the leader to move up the timeline.
Wally sighed in exasperation at the reminder, foot tapping rapidly against the roof. Whatever. Just as long as they're not late.
You never know with bad guys, Robin chimed chalantly. Maybe he decided to sleep in.
Dude, it's like, 3am.
My point exactly.
Wally face palmed, further irritated when he realized the gesture was completely lost to the Boy Wonder perched on a different rooftop further down the road. Sorry, forgot that you Bats are practically allergic to sleep. Let me guess, you hibernate in the winter, too? Should I get you berries and bugs to fatten you up for Christmas?
Kid, Aqualad interjected sharply. That is enough.
Wally immediately felt a surge of guilt at the ominous silence from the other side of the link. Whoops. Sorry, Rob.
No prob, came the quick reply. We're all tired.
"Understatement," Wally muttered aloud. He knew that this was still technically an early night for Robin, but he still felt grateful that the younger boy was trying to bridge the gap Wally almost drove a wedge through. Yeah. I was still a jerk, though.
Yeah, me too. Sorry, KF.
Sorry, Rob.
I'm sorrier.
No, I'm sorrier.
I'm the sorriest.
Well, I'm—
Okay, we get it, you're both saps, Artemis sighed. Now would it kill you to SHUT UP?!
A smirk played over Wally's features. New target acquired. How? he asked innocently. You can't shut up the human brain.
Well, you'd better learn how to quick, came the answering growl.
Telling a speedster to shut up is like telling them not to breathe, Robin commented.
And what a travesty that would be, Artemis snarked.
First of all, rude, archer chick, Wally griped. Second, Rob, I can't tell if that was meant to be bro-backup or add insult to injury.
Why not both? Robin tittered over Artemis' affronted, Archer chick?!
Breathing also happens to be unrelated to mental speech, Wally countered. So that argument is null and void.
To the contrary, Robin said, if you don't breathe, your brain don't work. Thus you can't think and eventually you die. Basic facts of anatomy.
Chuh, but I would still be able to think in the space between not breathing and dying, thank you very much.
Chuh, but not very coherently.
Since when has Wally ever been coherent?
A beat of stunned silence.
Dang, Superboy, Robin remarked. This is me high fiving you over the mental link right now.
High five? Artemis laughed. Please. Superboy, name any snack you want, it's on me.
Okay, I call foul, Wally whined. Who taught Supey sarcasm?
Wouldn't you like to know, speedy boy.
Wha—Artemis, that's not even clever!
And archer chick is better?
Wally spluttered. I—
Everyone, focus, Aqualad cut across. The perpetrators will be arriving any moment and we need to be ready when that happens.
A begrudging chorus of, Yes, Aqualad, Roger that, team leader, Okay, Mom, etc. echoed down the link.
Aqualad, being a bigger person than Wally, somehow did not comment on that last one.
The next few minutes passed in relative peace and quiet, broken only by the occasional car passing down some random street. Wally himself couldn't see the road leading up to the target warehouse—that was Robin and Superboy's station. It was everything Wally could do not to perk up at every hint of an engine, listening carefully only for the seemingly approaching car to continue on its path away from their location.
He sighed in resignation, nudging an errant piece of gravel with his toe, though careful not to kick it hard enough to clatter. He always got stuck in the out of the way, unseen corners for stakeouts. Something about an inability to keep still making him too much of a flight risk in the more visible vantage points.
Which…fair. But he didn't have to be happy about it.
He glared begrudgingly at the other end of the rooftop, knowing his roofmate Aqualad was crouched somewhere with a perfect view of the entrance. Strategically out of range for idle chit-chat.
Ah well. Guess he might as well get cozy for the next age till the action started and he was needed again.
The speedster popped one leg forward in a lunge, carefully easing down as far as he could go. Switch legs, repeat. He walked through a few more stretches, feeling the familiar tensing and easing of his muscles as he guided them through his usual prep routine.
There. Now no one could fault him for sitting down. And he did just that, propping his legs up on one of the shorter smoke stacks. Just for a minute. Adrenaline wouldn't let him fall asleep. Probably.
Silence. Waiting.
A quick chastise from Artemis for apparently managing to hum Smash Mouth's All Star through the mental link.
More waiting. More silence.
That is, until Wally felt a persistent, aching pressure on his mind, followed by a quick stabbing pain.
Ow! Wally exclaimed, bolting upright and gripping his forehead. M'gann, what was that?
I didn't do anything, the Martian protested. What happened?
Robin's signature cackle echoed over the mental link. Didn't think that would work. Anyway, red one!
Dude, Wally moaned. Not cool! We're on a stakeout.
Yeah, yeah, Robin said dismissively. Still got you. Score 2-0!
Both of you, KNOCK IT OFF! Artemis roared.
Bird and speedster flinched. Yes, ma'am!
3.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful," Wally hummed.
"But the fire is so delightful," Robin sang.
"Since we have places to go~"
"Melt the snow, melt the snow, melt the snow~"
"Wow," Artemis scoffed. "First of all, it's not even winter, what the heck. Second, either one of you is psychic or that was pre-planned."
"Ever heard of running on the same wavelength?" Wally clapped back. "Comes with having a best friend, you know."
"That's one broken wavelength, singing Christmas songs in August," Artemis retorted. "And jokes on you, Baywatch. My best friend is literally always on the same brain wave."
"Aawww, Artemis!" M'gann cooed. "That's so sweet! Who is it?"
Artemis huffed, a faint flush cresting her cheeks. "It's you, M'gann."
The alien blinked once. Twice. "Aawwww, Artemis!" she squealed, trapping the other girl in an almost flying hug. "You're my best friend, too!"
Artemis patted the other girl's back, exasperated expression softened by the clear fondness in her eyes. "Thanks, M'gann."
"Names in public," Kaldur pointed out.
This time, the archer's eyes rolled to the sky blue heavens. "Thanks, Megan," she stressed.
"As touching as this is," Wally broke in, "I think you disproved your point."
"What point?"
"Um, duh, about being on the same brain wave? Megan had no idea what you were talking about."
"Oh, shut up, Wally. There's such thing as privacy, too, you know."
"Sure, sure," Wally said, nonchalant. "Not like your bestie's a literal mind reader and should've caught on—ow!"
"We. Are. In. Public," Artemis hissed.
"Thank you, Artemis," Kaldur sighed. "Please, team, let's try to be slightly less conspicuous for the next few hours."
Robin clicked his heels together, saluting stiffly over his sunglasses. "Sir, yes, sir."
Kaldur sighed again, deeper than the last.
Wally had never been less envious over Kaldur's position as team leader. Wrangling five other teenagers was definitely a role Wally himself had underestimated at the onset of their team, and was a position he now had negative interest in. Too much responsibility, too much stiff upper lip, all work, no play. Only a couple months in, and the guy couldn't seem to catch a break.
Even on non-mission team bonding exercises such as this one, walking around Metropolis in the scorching heat of summer to help acclimatize the newer members both to the Team and earth itself—in the non-human members' case—Kaldur was on guard against their shenanigans.
Wally should maybe work on that…eh.
Quite frankly, it was long overdue for a little sightseeing adventure, in Wally's opinion. They were all wound a little tight. Happy Harbor was cool and all, but Metropolis? Last time he'd come here as a civilian, he was like, six.
It was maaybbbee a little overstimulating.
Compared to Central and especially compared to Gotham, the sheer number of screens adorning the sides of the buildings, crowds of people thronging the sidewalks, and non-sleazy neon signs blinking into the streetways was actually insane. It was just so…bright, and colorful, and actually smelled halfway decent, just like the hero that protected it.
"I'm going to pretend I did not just hear you say Superman smells good," Artemis snickered.
Wally's cheeks heated. "I—I didn't, I just—"
"PFFFTTTTTT," Rob spluttered, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Good luck digging yourself out of that one, Kid Mouth!"
"Names," Kaldur muttered half-heartedly.
"How do you know what Superman smells like?" Conner interjected stiffly, as if that was the point that mattered.
"Dude, have you never had a Supey hu—?"
A quick elbow jab to the ribs from a resident bird that Wally actually deserved, because that was a can of worms he did not want to be responsible for opening on their day off.
"I mean, have you ever stood by him for like, longer than two seconds? I swear it's his hair gel or something, but he always smells like fresh baked cookies and awesomeness."
Conner's eyebrows furrowed. "Awesomeness..?"
"Like…well just…" Wally gestured uselessly. "Just very. Manly? And hero-like?"
Robin clapped his hands movie slate style in front of Wally's face. "Aaanndd that's enough nonsense for this episode. What was on the agenda for today, Kaldur?"
"Sightseeing," Kaldur announced promptly. "Then lunch and perhaps a theatrical play."
"Oooh," M'gann piped in, "is a play similar to a sitcom?"
"Pretty much," Robin agreed. "They both have live audiences, but sitcoms are recorded for TV and plays tend to be better in person. The good ones make it a 4D experience."
"Sounds great!" M'gann cheered. "So where are we going first?"
All eyes turned toward Kaldur.
Kaldur stared right back.
"How about just a walk around downtown?" Robin suggested after a moment. "I've been here a few times, I can show you the best stuff that isn't just a tourist trap."
"Works for me," Wally concurred.
A chorus of similar agreements rounded the group.
A grin split across the bird's face as he rubbed his hands together. "Great! Let's start at the Daily Planet."
Wally frowned, thrown. "The Daily Planet? But that's just a news station."
"With the best view of Metropolis from the rooftop globe," Robin countered. "Come on, let's go!"
"Uh, and how do you intend to get to the top of a private business building, short stack?" Wally snarked.
Robin quirked an eyebrow to his hairline, gracefully ignoring the jab. "I have my ways."
And so the hike began.
As did Wally's plan.
He carefully scanned the cars passing by them, eyes peeled for a specific set of round headlights and curved hoods. It was a city, after all. One could never be too careful about the types of vehicles around when a certain bird was nearby.
Dick was already several points ahead of him. Wally's bicep throbbed in phantom sympathy at the thought—that kid hit hard. Wally would be darned if he let that gap get any wider before the day was out. For the continued health and safety of his bicep!
The walk continued, his teammates chattering idly around him. They stuck to the building side of the sidewalk to glean as much shade from the buildings and occasional awning as possible to counteract the scorching sun, which left roadside wide open for Wally's own viewing.
As they pressed onwards, Wally found his gaze drifting down to his feet—the lack of gum spots was actually seriously impressive—and to the wide variety of grocers and food stands lining either side of the sidewalk. Come to think of it, breakfast was like, two hours ago. It was the perfect time to cash in on a light snack before lunch.
As if to answer that thought, the scent of hot, deep fried chimichanga goodness assaulted his nostrils. "Hey, does anyone want a—?"
"Wally, come here!" Dick shouted urgently, gesturing from the front of the group, eyes glued to something far above street level.
Wally bolted the 10 step gap that had spawned between him and his best friend in his distraction, jerking around to see what it was that had the teen so frazzled. "What?Whatisitwhat'swro—YOW!"
"Yellow one!" Rob cackled, darting ahead onto the crowded sidewalk.
Wally stared, dumbfounded, at the 20-foot long Volkswagen ad shining down into the square across the street. Tracked as the image slid sideways, a Coca-Cola ad rolling in the other side to take its place.
"Always look up," Artemis counseled, patting his shoulder sympathetically. She moved past him, tugging lightly at his sleeve to follow the rest of the team chasing after their wayward tour guide before he managed to phase into the shadows as Bats were wont to do.
"What have I created," Wally whispered into the void.
4.
T'was around 3am on a Saturday when the last team member—Wally—staggered wearily into the team common room, eyes casting across the various surfaces currently occupied by his other team members. Artemis was curled into one corner of the long green couch, Superboy on the other with M'gann pressed into his side to make room for Aqualad next to her. Wally briefly wrinkled his nose at the unfortunate proximity between the two before electing the couch too full to infiltrate, moving to flop on the floor next to the splayed form of his best friend.
"You know, for being a speedster, you take the longest showers," Robin mumbled half into the carpet.
Wally shrugged half-heartedly. "Hey, the one thing you can't rush is luxury."
"Or power washing," Artemis nodded sagely.
Wally scowled, but made no move to defend himself. For one, he was too tired to come up with a retort, and second, she was right: That mud had taken ages to scrape off.
They had just wrapped up an impromptu mission a little over an hour ago, called in to cover a fourth Cobra venom trafficking drop point that the League hadn't been informed of until it was almost too late. Luckily, the Team had already been gathered in preparation for a chill Friday game night and were able to quickly respond at Batman's call.
Unfortunately, that meant bonding time was cancelled in favor of teamwork building average perp pounding. Woo.
Now, in the near early hours of the next morning, the inevitable remaining vestiges of adrenaline and the promise of the following weekend kept most of them from wanting to sleep just yet.
Except Wolf, apparently. The odd snuffling snore could be heard from somewhere behind the couch arm Superboy was currently leaning against.
"Should we do something?" Wally asked into the open air. "I feel like we should do something."
"You always want to do something," Artemis snipped.
"Hey!" Wally protested. "Not always!"
"True," Robin agreed, sunglasses now skewed dangerously from his attempts to merge with the floor. "Should've seen him after he ate 322 burgers on a dare."
"Dude!' Wally hissed, heat flaring to his cheeks.
Artemis raised an eyebrow, raking her eyes to Wally's stomach then back to his face. "I. Actually don't think I want to know."
"You don't," Robin giggled, singsong. "I think Sherwin-Williams almost made a paint color out of that shade of vomit."
"Dude. Not cool."
"I agree with Kid—," Aqualad interjected.
"Thank you."
"—that we should do something."
"Hey!"
"M'gann," Kaldur said, turning to the alien. "What was it we had planned for this evening before the mission?"
M'gann brightened, straightening away from Conner whose scowl somehow deepened at the action—which, come on, dude, lighten up. "Oh, yes! I thought we could perhaps bake cookies and play a board game! I heard there was a game called Risk that is popular among people of our age group! I also saw this fascinating Earth activity where there's a basin of water with apples bobbing in it and—"
"Whoa whoa whoa," Artemis interrupted, crossing her hands in a time out gesture. "Maybe five hours ago that would've been great, but I, personally, have maybe an hour left in me before I crash. Physically. My brain has already died, so thinking's off the table."
M'gann sagged a bit, mood visibly dampening. "Oh. I didn't mean—"
"She was just listing off stuff to do, you didn't have to snap at her," Conner sniped—and who gave him the right to be so protective?
Artemis bristled. "I wasn't—" simultaneous with Wally's, "She wasn't—" The two stopped, blinking at each other in surprise.
"Everybody, stop," Aqualad cut across, leader-mode on, effectively silencing the group. "I think it is safe to say that no one here is mad at anyone. We are all tired. It has been a long night. Anyone who is not up to an activity is welcome to retire to their rooms. This is not a required event."
He scanned the room, meeting eyes with each team member. No one spoke. But no one moved either. (Wally gave himself a mental pat on the back for that one.)
Kaldur nodded once, apparently satisfied. "M'gann," he addressed again. "Those suggestions sound fascinating, but perhaps we can save them for another time when we have a little more energy. Is there an activity on your list that may be a little less strenuous?"
M'gann considered for a moment. Suddenly, she slapped a palm to her forehead. "Hello, Megan! We can do a movie night!" She floated up and over the back of the couch, shooting to the upper cabinets in the kitchen and pulling a DVD case from the top shelf before sliding it behind her back.
Which…Wally blinked. What the heck? "M'gann, there's a DVD cabinet next to the TV."
"I know," the Martian said brightly. "But I rented it this morning…er, yesterday morning? Just for tonight, and I wanted it to be a surprise!"
"That's nice of you, M'gann," Robin chimed in, much louder next to his ear.
Wally jumped, jerking to see his friend's carpet imprinted face angled up towards the Martian, sunglasses crooked up over one eyebrow yet still somehow covering both eyes. Interesting.
"Which movie is it?" Artemis asked. "As long as it's not Alice in Wonderland."
"Nope," M'gann affirmed, floating back down to her spot on the couch. "I picked it up because the main character is somehow a car! I couldn't understand it."
"Ahhh, Cars," Wally nodded sagely. "A true classic."
M'gann blinked. "Um…I don't think so?" She pulled the DVD case out from behind her back, brandishing it for all to see. "It's actually called Herbie. It's about a Love Bug—"
"Silver one!" Robin screeched, launching his entire body sideways half into and onto Wally with enough force to bust the air out of the speedster's lungs.
An incomprehensible noise burst from Wally's mouth along with his precious oxygen, leaving black spots dancing across his vision as he gasped on the carpet.
"Whoops," he heard in the far distance...by his head? "Sorry, Walls."
"Sure," Wally wheezed, squinting balefully up at the somewhat guilty expression on the younger boy's face. "Of…course you are."
"Are you okay, Wally?" M'gann asked, because unlike some people, she had a heart.
"Yeaahh, babe," he groaned. "Just got the wind knocked out of me by that completely illegal slug bug move, ow, you're supposed to use your fist, not your whole bony body, you jerk."
"Oops," Robin agreed.
M'gann blinked. "Um...what is this game?"
Robin smirked at her. "Slug Bug."
The three jumped at the sound of a hand thumping against the couch arm. "No, no, no, and no," Artemis snapped, "there is no way we are watching a movie centered around a Beetle. Not with those two blockheads in the same room. No way, no how."
M'gann blinked again. "Er, okay." She carefully placed the DVD under a pillow. "Perhaps we could watch something else?"
"What I think Artemis means to say," Kaldur interjected as Superboy's glare sharpened, "is thank you for the suggestion, M'gann, but maybe let's save that for a time when certain team members are…otherwise occupied. Perhaps you and Conner could watch it tomorrow when we've all left?"
"Oh, that's a great idea!" M'gann agreed, visibly perking up at the idea.
"And since the fascination appears to be with cars as protagonists," Kaldur continued, "might I suggest the Cars movie Wally brought up earlier?"
"Fine, whatever," Artemis grumbled. "It's just some racecar and a tow truck, right?"
Wally and Dick exchanged slow glances.
A grin poked at the corner of Robin's mouth that Wally had to fight not to match—and lost.
"Sure, Kaldur," Robin accepted smoothly. "That one's a classic."
One hundred seventeen minutes later, Wally begrudgingly nursed the new bruises on his arm to the chorus of his friends' snores and a certain Bat's pillow-muffled cackles behind him. Stupid Volkswagen flies.
5.
Stakeout missions. Gotta love 'em.
At least this one was somewhat interesting. Keyword, "somewhat." Don't want to make an oxymoron, there.
Said "somewhat interesting" was due to the fact that they were out in broad daylight, walking very visibly and obviously on the sidewalk bordering Central City's downtown hub.
At least fall was still in its early stages in good ole Missouri, so the summer uniform was still enough to make the weather cut. Wally hated the extra however well designed padding built into the winter version of his suit. Too much excess bunching in uncomfortable places over time.
Civilians gawked at the pair as they strolled past, girls tittering behind their hands as Robin awkwardly palmed the back of his neck at the onslaught of attention.
"Dude," Wally murmured out of the side of his mouth, "for all the parties you go to, I would expect you to be a little better at this."
Robin leveled a glare at his friend, just a few degrees shy of the Batglare the Team had become rather familiar with in the last year. "Like you're knocking it out of the park."
"Ha, please," Wally snorted, winking and flicking a salute at a particularly cute brunette. "I was born for the attention."
"As the neon costume and narcissistic tendencies suggest," Robin nodded.
Wally's cheeks flushed for the nth time as said cute brunette choked on a laugh, quickly averting her eyes.
"What is it with you Bats," Wally grumbled. "Would it kill you to lighten up a little?"
"What part of 'creatures of the night' do you not understand?"
"Aha," Wally interjected, "but you, my friend, are a robin. Those are daytime birds."
Robin rolled his eyes. "Mentee under the Bat. And city robins can be known to be active at night."
Wally nodded sagely. "Ah yes. Light pollution. The wonders of urban living."
Robin shook his head, visibly stifling a yawn as he stepped around a particularly large display of fuji apples. "Dude, you try patrolling all night thinking you'll have time to sleep in on, you know, a Saturday when suddenly you get popped on the daylight end of a mission. Not asterous."
Wally winced. "Honestly, fair."
Robin hummed. "Heard from the others yet?"
Wally hadn't, but checked his communicator real quick to be sure. "Not yet. You?"
"Nope."
This particular stakeout—patrol might be the better word—was a bit of a ruse. The gang they were currently tracking hired themselves out as delivery guys for actual gangs, moving goods around and between cities. They were notorious for making their deliveries in broad daylight, disguising their movements in the throngs of people around them by dressing as civilians and using standard rental moving trucks and minivans to transport their cargo. The greater half of their defense was their perceived normalcy and thus how difficult it could be to catch them in the act without accidentally busting a civilian.
Which Flash had done just last week, mistaking a shifty eyed business man's repeated watch glances and phone calls while movers hauled boxes into his trucks as coordinating the next shipment. The business man did not take very kindly to the near-arrest that resulted in him completely missing the "life-or-death" international bankers meeting he had been remotely coordinating.
Which was embarrassing. And Wally was so grateful he had homework during.
So the Team had been called in. Both since the perps knew their resident hero was onto them, and for the extra hands to perform the pincer move Flash couldn't do by himself.
Robin and Kid Flash, as the most publicly known sidekicks, would show their faces around Central. It was a weird double bluff situation, letting the villains know that the heroes were there, but also lulling them into a sense of security that it was only "sidekicks."
The original four had bristled during that part of the mission briefing, but Wally had to admit that it made sense.
Flash was doing his standard patrol route somewhere around the city fringes, to keep up the usual schedule. To the outside eye, it would just look like Flash had called in his sidekick and his available friend to help out. But what the perps didn't know was that there were four other teens stationed around the city, scouting the areas the public heroes weren't patrolling, ready to fall in for backup and additional damage control at the first sign of trouble.
The goal? Back the perps into a corner.
"Scarlet one," Robin murmured out of nowhere, lightly bopping Kid's arm.
Wally blinked as the red Volkswagen rolled by. "Not like you to hold back."
"Dis-asterously, we're in public," Robin sighed.
"Sadist," Wally grumbled.
"Just for you," Robin sniggered.
Wally shook his head, scanning the buildings beside him to at least keep up the appearance of doing his job. And wow, that was a lot of laundry.
Another light punch. "Blue one."
"Haha, you think you're so funn—"
"Black one!"
"The heck?"
"Green one!"
"Dude sto—"
"Pink one!"
And okay, none of them necessarily hurt, but the sheer quantity of them was beginning to fray Wally's nerves. "What the he—"
"BLACK AND YELLOW POLKADOT ONE!"
"That's it," Wally snarled, snagging the younger hero's wrist and dragging him into the nearest building—the laundromat—intent on popping out on the ideally beetle-less street on the other side. "No more street sighting for—"
He stopped, blinking into the notably dry air of the interior.
Twenty pairs of eyes blinked back at him. Piles and piles of laundry were stacked on the available folding spaces, in rollable hampers of varying sizes, and some even spilling out onto the floor.
It looked ordinary, apart from the overabundance of clothes. But…the air wasn't humid. A quick glance revealed the few running wash machines were spinning water and what may have been sheets of plastic. None of the dryers were running at all.
Wally met eye contact with a woman just as she surreptitiously shoved a suspiciously large stack of cash into a leg of skinny jeans.
Robin slowly lifted a hand to his in-ear comm. "Team, track our location at your earliest convenience."
Whatever spell had fallen over the crowd when they'd walked in was broken.
The staggered click of gun safeties being flipped echoed throughout the space. Robin fired a line up. Kid Flash shot straight ahead.
The fight was over in minutes. One of the perks of the perps' defense relying so heavily on just not being caught at all. At some point, Miss Martian phased in through the ATM machine, Superboy half busted in the back door before anyone could sneak out, and Artemis and Aqualad wrangled the perps hauling the initial buttload of laundry and moolah that Wally had seen being loaded into cleaning vans outside.
By the time Flash himself shot up to the business front, all the perps were handcuffed in varying states of consciousness, errant cash piled in hampers in the corner, and firearms packed away in an unplugged washing machine.
"Hey, nice job, guys!" Flash praised cheerily. "And perfect timing! Look who I found skulking around outside."
The hero yanked the arm of a previously unseen suited man, also cuffed at the wrists and ankles, revealing…
"No way," Wally gaped. "This guy was in on it the whole time?"
Mr. Life-or-Death International Bankers Meeting glared back at him.
"Yup!" Flash chirruped. "Turns out, he's the ring leader. And a former major thespian." The speedster's expression darkened. "Theatrics didn't work so much the second time when his 'cargo' was a school bus of kids instead of some apparently priceless antiques."
His face cleared. "But, thanks to you guys, we've dealt a major blow. They haven't had a chance to branch out from Central yet, and with this ham"—he shook the man none too gently—"and the main crowd you busted in custody, now it's just picking up the stragglers!"
"That's great," Robin replied, seemingly distracted as he eyed the streets around them. "Glad we could be of service. Anything else we can help you with?"
Flash laughed. "I get it, it's a Saturday. You're good, Boy Wonder, cops should be here any second to help clean up this mess."
As if on cue, sirens wailed in the distance.
Robin nodded briskly. "Awesome. Come on, Kid, let's go get some churros."
Wally raised an eyebrow at his friend's brusqueness, glancing at his mentor for confirmation.
Flash grinned, making a shooing gesture with his free hand. "Go have fun, I got the PR side of things. You've done enough."
"All right," Wally conceded. "Thanks, Flash!"
"Nah, thank you."
Wally saluted quickly before allowing his friend to pull him back out onto the sidewalk, turning abruptly back to the main road.
The younger teen was mumbling under his breath, finally removing his hand from Wally's glove to type into his wrist gauntlet.
"Dude, what's with you?"
"Nothing," Robin said quickly. "Just wrapping up some loose ends. Where's that churro place again?"
Wally raised his eyebrows, both at the dismissal and the impossibility of a Bat not knowing exactly where he was in relation to his destination at any moment. "Like, two blocks from here. What, glove GPS busted?"
"Something like that," Robin agreed, waving away his keyboard. "All right, post-mission snack time!"
Wally decided to dismiss the weirdness as the thought of warm, sugary, crispy goodness reached his stomach.
They started walking, setting a steady pace. Two blocks. Less than five minutes, and then—
Wally processed way too late that Robin was not only standing street-side, but had yet to remove his attention from the cars passing by until a (very unfortunately) familiar fist rocketed into his arm.
"White one!"
"Dude!"
"Orange one! Yellow one! Teal one!"
"Stop!"
"Mint one! Purple one! White one!"
Between blows, Wally managed to look over the Boy Wonder's shoulder at the street to their left, and….
His jaw dropped.
Easily four out of every five cars on the street currently consisted of those dreaded Volkswagen beetle cars. "How in the—"
"Ladybug one! Cyan! Turquoise! Emerald! Ruby!"
"Now you're just making stuff up," Wally protested, straining to see a different color to at least get one solid punch in only to not recognize the apparently highly nuanced shades his friend was screaming. "Uh, gray one?"
Robin wrinkled his nose. "No, that's charcoal! Extra punch for me." Bop. "Candy cane! Peppermint!"
"Those are the same thing!"
Robin shook his head. "Nope. Straight lines versus swirls. Rust red! Mahogany!"
Dagnabbit all, Wally should've paid more attention in art class, this was freaking ridiculous.
"Periwinkle! Cerulean! Chartreuse! Evergreen! Baby pink! Plum! Rose gold!"
By now, people were staring unabashedly—both at the endless parade of beetles, and the pair of heroes—as Kid Flash plowed onwards with a face as stoic as he could manage with a tiny bird ruthlessly pecking his left arm with his fists.
"Indigo! Marigold! Lavender! Steel! Fuchsia!"
Finally, they rounded the corner that brought them to the little churro shop that had become their go-to, and the parade seemed to finally trickle off.
Wally fought down the flush in his cheeks as they sped through the ordering process—why were people still looking, didn't they have anything better to do on a Saturday?—and plopped down at their in-costume usual outside corner table.
Appease the hangry. Then talk.
"That was completely not fair," Wally grumbled, post-mission munchies settling as he licked the excess sugar off his bare fingertips. "How is it even possible to have so many beetles on the same street? I didn't even know that many colors existed!"
The corners of Robin's mouth twitched suspiciously. "No idea. Must've been an event or something."
Wally stared at him. "What did you do."
Robin's smirk broke out in full force. "I saved the CEO of Volkswagen from an assassin last week. Seriously, who tries to kill the owner of a German automobile company? Anyway, I asked a small favor."
"Dude," Wally growled, cursing Bats and Waynes and their connections to everyone and everything. "So not cool."
"For you," Robin retorted. The boy stood up, brushing the cinnamon off his thighs. "That makes 204 for me, and zero for you. Might want to ice that arm." And with that, he shot a grapple line into the air and swung away, his signature cackle the only sign he'd been there at all.
Wally scowled, rubbing testily at the already fading bruise on his arm. Note to self: Never ever EVER teach a Bat a game that included competition and bodily harm ever again.
Only then did he notice the $50 bill tucked into the opening of his discarded right glove, a folded piece of paper with a familiar scribbled R on the corner. Wally unfolded the note, squinting warily at the words scratched in hasty cursive (freaking butler-trained rich kid): Extra churros on me ;P
…Okay, maybe there were some perks to best friendship after all.
(If the game suddenly went viral worldwide after a clip of Robin gleefully rapid-fire bopping Kid Flash's arm made it to GBS News, which subsequently led to a strict ban of the game whilst in costume…the little celebratory jig Wally did in his room was seen only by his mom.)
+1.
This was it. Today was the day.
Well, the first day since The Day that ended up being a semi-disappointment, but still resulted in the formation of the Team which was arguably cooler than joining the Justice League full of boring adults anyway…
Wally digressed.
Today was The Day 2.0.
The one day Wally might have a leg up on his best friend. The singular situation where the boy wouldn't be able to use his superb reflexes and intellect to the fullest capacity.
Because unlike the nine out of 10 times they usually saw each other, it would finally be Dick Grayson and Wally West in the same space. Not Robin and Kid Flash, not undercover Rob and Wally. Just Dick and Wally. Technically Wayne-banned in public anyway because secret identities and all that, which was why this combo rarely saw the light of day.
And Wally had a plan. Formed with the help of the only individual that could ever hope to hold a trump card over any and all Bats.
Oh yeah. Wally was golden.
"—most appropriate for your project?"
Ah. Poster board. Right.
"Uh, sorry, Professor Dodds, could you repeat that?"
The bespectacled man raised an eyebrow at him—what was Wally's life, and why was that the default response to every misdemeanor he made? At least this one was accompanied with a fond if exasperated smile as opposed to a smirk.
"—attention, West"—geez, dial back in, Wallman—"We've discussed this. Now, what made a theoretical model of a particle accelerator most appropriate for your project?"
Wally brightened. "Ah. Well, professor, as you can see in my hypothesis..."
Just one more hour. One more hour before the greatest "GOTCHA" moment of Wally's life.
Luckily, given that that hour was booked with science nerdage in the form of midterm semester poster presentations, it managed to pass relatively quickly.
Wally struggled to tamp down his excitement as he packed up his project, smilingly fielding compliments from lingering professors as he finally hefted the full box and headed back to the lab.
Project carefully stowed, Wally whipped out his phone as he headed for the entrance, sending a quick text:
omw soon B) just gotta wrap up with a prof, but i should b at the meet point when u get out
As expected, he didn't get a response—Dick Grayson was a model student, after all, and such treacherous things as having a phone out in class was beneath him. But in this case, that suited Wally's purposes perfectly.
The speedster popped out the front of his school building, hastily zipping his jacket against the not-quite-winter breeze as he took off trotting down the familiar path to the nearest zeta tube.
This time, the buttons on his phone tapped out a phone number as he held the device to his ear. A ring and a half ran through before the call connected.
"Hello?"
"On my way," Wally announced cheerfully, breath puffing in white clouds. "ETA ten minutes, tops."
"I shall endeavor to arrive in eleven."
"Perfect," Wally crowed. "Seeya then!"
It was all Wally could do not to activate the Speedforce as he power walked through the city, habitually scrambling the turns he took to throw off any potential followers.
Finally finally fi-na-lly he reached the phone booth nestled in a back alley, glancing quickly around before sliding in.
He plugged in the coordinates, the voice of the zeta tube echoing in his ears as his vision momentarily fuzzed out: Recognized: Kid Flash B-03.
He blinked the world back into existence, waiting for the familiar static to fade from the corners of his vision.
The stench of smoke and garbage and something else distinctly Gotham greeted his nostrils as he stepped out into the alleyway. Wally squinted in the relatively shadowed space, allowing the door to creak shut behind him as he looked toward the street at the entrance.
The rumble of an engine, a flash of black and chrome, and—
A grin broke out on Wally's face. "Hey, Alf! Right on time."
The butler returned the smile through the rolled down window. "Hello, Master West. Do get in before you catch cold standing there."
"Don't have to tell me twice." Wally clambered over the seat, sliding along the bench to make room for everything to settle back into place. "Thanks for agreeing to help me out, Alf, I don't think I could've done it without you."
"Don't thank me yet," Alfred contradicted primly. "I may have acquired the right tools, but there is still the small matter of pulling the wool over young Master Dick's eyes long enough for the punchline."
Wally scoffed. "Aw, come on, Alf, with your years of theater? This'll be a cakewalk."
A smirk quirked beneath the corner of a mustache—which explained a lot about Dick. "As you say, Master West. It shall be a pleasure to polish off some of the old flair. Master Dick is quite the prankster. I do wonder sometimes how he'll fair on the other end of the joke."
Wally grinned. "Well, today's the day to test that theory. For science, of course."
"Oh, of course. In speaking of the subject, how did your poster presentation fair today?"
The remainder of the 10-minute drive was filled with idle chatter. Just as they turned the corner into an ornate, sweeping entryway, Wally's phone lit up with an: Asterous, just got out; Alf and I'll be there soon!
Wally tapped a quick: perf im at the coffee shop. hurry up they only have like 3 muffins left DX
Lololol, what a nightmare
dont even get me started dude
"And that's my cue," Wally grinned.
"Curtains up," Alfred agreed, putting the car into park. "Break a leg, Master West."
Wally unbuckled his seatbelt, shimmying his body into the sad excuse of floor space to sit awkwardly behind the passenger seat—thank goodness Dick was such a shorty pants, or his torso would never have fit. Alfred tossed a black car blanket over his limbs, arranging a few canvas grocery bags to disguise the distinctly human-shaped lump. Wally pulled a black skull cap over his shock of red hair, ducking as much as he could into the tiny space to complete the disguise.
The engine revved lightly as Alfred cranked the car back into motion.
Wally licked at his dry lips, swallowing thickly as his heart pounded a steadily increasing rhythm in his chest. Flexed his arms to ensure full mobility while still being invisible behind the dark leather of the front seat. This was it. His last half-decent chance to get the bird at Wally's own game.
He felt the car begin to slow, presumably reaching the pickup zone.
The collective hum of idling engines made it to his ears, car doors opening and closing ahead of them. Wally listened with bated breath as the sounds moved ever closer as they eased forward in the line, footfalls and teenaged chatter now audible all around them.
Sweat prickled on his brow and in the creases of his hands, but he didn't dare wipe them off, not knowing when the moment would arrive that the slightest movement would betray him.
Legs, don't cramp me now.
Literally, would be the worst time for a Charlie horse ever. Right up there with that time Captain Cold nailed his ankle with the freeze gun and the shivering almost—hold on, why was his calf muscle twitching?!
"Hmm, there he is," Alfred observed lightly so Wally's heart—and nearly his legs—jolted.
Crap! Don't think about it, West, don't give it attention and it'll go away...wait, wasn't that the plan for annoying children?
He was jolted abruptly back to the present as the thunk-thunk of the gear shift sounded in front of him. The door slammed open instantly, a familiar, gleeful voice echoing into the interior: "Alfred? Seriously? This is perfect! I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner!"
"Afternoon to you, too, Master Dick," Alfred greeted, cool as ever. "How was school today?"
Wally resisted the urge to flinch as a backpack whipped over the center console to bounce on the seat inches from Wally's covered knees.
"Same old, same old,"—so close it was almost in his ear. The sound of fabric sliding against leather sounding in front of him presumably as Dick clambered into the car, still chattering away.
"Mrs. Percival got a new broach that about blinded half the class by the end of period, which would've been hilarious if I wasn't in the main reflection zone."
The door slammed shut followed by the sound of a seatbelt snicking into place.
Wally licked his lips soundlessly, forcing himself to ignore the hammering in his chest and the anticipatory tremors down his spine.
Game.
"That sounds unpleasant," Alfred noted.
"It was," Dick agreed. "Wally's already at the coffeeshop near the zeta, by the way, he texted me while I was in class."
"Excellent. We shall head there straightaway."
"But Alf," Dick piped back in, "did you pick this on purpose? This is totally asterous! Wally would never expect this!"
"Expect what, Master Dick?"
Wally could vividly picture the gleefully raised eyebrow cresting the younger boy's forehead as he snickered. "Do you remember that game Wally taught me a few months ago?"
Alfred hummed. "I may. Would this have anything to do with that Volkswagen beetle fiasco with a certain pair of young heroes I heard on the news the other day?"
A cackle rent the air. "Um, duh? What makes this so great is Bats banned us from playing in costume because of our image or something. Wally would never expect it in civvies!"
"Remind me of the rules again, Master Dick? I'm afraid I'm not quite following."
Wally shifted carefully in the moments of conversation, breathing as lightly as possible through his mouth as he worked his arm into position.
Set.
"Okay, so you know the Volkswagen beetles, right?"
"I do."
"So the game is called Slug Bug."
"Indeed."
"And whenever you see a beetle car, you call out its color and slug them in the arm. Once someone calls that car, no one else in the vicinity can use it again."
"I see."
"So count yourself lucky, Alf, 'cause I'm saving this one for Wally."
"I am forever indebted to your generosity, young sir."
"Anytime, Alf."
"To clarify, when you see a beetle, you would yell—for example—'Black," and punch the other person?"
"Almost," Dick agreed. "Some people call 'slug bug,' but Wally and I would say—"
MATCH.
The world ground to a halt as Wally moved, grocery bags tumbling, blanket flapping, skull cap brushing dangerously against the low ceiling as his fist darted around the backrest of the chair into his till-then elusive target. "BLACK ONE!"
The resulting screech that erupted from the bat mentee's mouth would live rent free in Wally's mind for the rest of his life.
"HA!" Wally crowed, pumping his victorious fist. "FINALLY!"
Wide blue eyes blinked owlishly back at him for a beat, disbelief shrouding the irises—just long enough for Wally to whip out his phone and click. Then the eyebrows dropped. "Wally, what the fu—"
"Master Richard!"
"—dgecake!" Dick hissed, clutching his targeted arm over his chest with his other hand. "How long have you been back there?"
Wally tsked his tongue, lazily freeing his hair from the cap and ruffling up the ends. "That's for me to know, and you to find out, Wonder Bread."
Dick's face scrunched. Wonder Bread, he mouthed silently.
Priceless. Utterly. Priceless.
Click.
Reveling in the general flabbergasted-ness of his best friend—a sight even he had thus far only born witness to once before back when they were younger, dumber, and a little too quick to fight—Wally wiggled out from the piles of fabric and canvas, hauling up against the back bench and kicking his feet onto the center console.
"Soooo, what do you call this one, anyway?" Wally questioned, a smirk twitching up the corner of his mouth. "The Batbuggy?"
Dick sighed, the indignance leaving him in one breath to settle into begrudging defeat. "Shut up, Wally."
Wally popped a wink and a finger gun in the boy's direction. "As if. I'm holding onto this one over you for life."
"That's still 204 for me to your 1, Wally."
"Ah ah ah," Wally chided. "But I just snuck up on a Bat. One is but a number in the face of eternal bragging rights."
Dick groaned, sinking down into his seat. Far too soon, a familiar glint reflected in the younger boy's eyes. "Alfred, what's the policy on cookie privileges?"
Wally jerked upright. "Hey!"
Alfred's eyebrow quirked visibly in the rearview—dear god, that's where the Bats got it from. "Well, Master Dick, considering I am both the baker of said cookies and Master West's so-called partner in crime, I do not believe any of the actions that occurred would warrant loss of cookie privileges."
Good old Alfred. How could Wally ever doubt him.
Dick gaped in utter disbelief, jaw nearly touching the loosened tie of his uniform.
Click.
"WALLY!"
And maybe Wally definitely just lost sharing rights to the latest Swordwalkers games for the rest of his life. But this victory? Worth every lost second.
Click.
"GRAAHHHHHHHH!"
Yup, run now. Revel later.
(Still worth it. Worth. Every. Mile he had left to jog to Wayne Manor.)
.
.
.
.
.
+2. Bonus
Four years later….
Recognized: Artemis B-06.
Nightwing and Kid Flash glanced up from their surprisingly evenly matched game of air hockey as the resident archer materialized out of the zeta tube. Wally instantly zoomed to her side, ignoring the telltale cha-chink as the puck slammed home into his goal. The victory music signaling the game's end sounded off as he pecked his girlfriend on the cheek. "Hellooo, beautiful."
Artemis batted him away, feigning annoyance. Nightwing rolled his eyes at that. Even Superboy would be able to pinpoint the pleased glint in her eyes.
"Hi, Wally," she greeted.
The former boy wonder cleared his throat awkwardly as Wally wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking her against his side with a goofy grin. "Um, hey, Artemis. Is the new recruit with you?"
Artemis blinked as if coming back to the present, stepping away from the now sulking speedster. "Hey yourself, 'Wing. I was just about to buzz him through," she affirmed, turning toward the access panel.
Override: Artemis B-06, the computer announced pleasantly. Access granted. Recognized: Visitor A-12.
"Bad manners leaving a guest waiting," Wally sniggered.
"And whose fault was that, dork?"
Nightwing fought back a smile, fingers tingling in anticipation as he surreptitiously stepped closer to the pair.
A shape appeared in the golden light as the couple bantered; the outline of a figure with...horns coming out of his back? A blue armored boy staggered forward out of the tube—first zeta travel wobbles and all—squinting against the sudden abrupt change in lighting.
The boy started, eyes widening as he processed the sight of the three older heroes standing before him. He raised his hand awkwardly. "Uh…hi, everyone. I'm Blue Beetle."
Wally froze. Whirled around, fist flying in a wide arc. Two simultaneous THUDs echoed through the entryway, twin voices screaming: "BLUE ONE! OW!"
Both men leapt apart as if burned, rubbing their afflicted appendages and glaring balefully at the other.
Artemis sighed, equal parts fond and long suffering. "Just when I thought they grew out of it."
Blue Beetle gaped. "Um...what?"
Artemis shook her head, slinging an arm over the baffled teen's shoulders. "Just ignore them. They're idiots."
Blue blinked. "Okay."
The two of them glanced over at the two senior heroes, now full grown—two original founding members of The Team, feared by villains the world over, renowned and respected by civilians, fellow heroes, and sidekicks alike—currently arguing over who got the point.
"I saw him first!"
"But I punched you first!"
"I knew he was coming."
"Exactly! I know you'd never let anyone into the mountain without debriefing them first. You had an unfair advantage! It's a miracle I even punched you at the same time with that foreknowledge!"
"Chuh! You got lucky!"
"Chuh! You're getting slow in your old age!"
"Who are you calling old? I'm two years younger than you!"
"You say as if I didn't hear your knees pop landing that flip the other day."
"As if yours are any better!"
Artemis carefully steered a stunned Blue Beetle away, guiding him down one of the hallways adjacent to the Mount Justice zeta room. "Come on, newbie. While they duke it out, I'll give you the grand tour."
"Sure," Blue allowed, dazed. "That would be cool."
The moment the two strode out of earshot, Nightwing paused in his retorts, a mischievous—borderline evil—grin erupting across his features.
Wally stumbled to a halt at the abrupt lack of counterargument, peering at his best friend warily. "Er, why are you smiling like that?"
Nightwing shook his head slowly, smile never wavering. "No reason. Just let me…" He stepped towards the computers, tapping rapidly to pull up the Cave's security feeds under Kid Flash's watchful eye.
Meanwhile, Artemis and Blue Beetle continued their trek through the Mountain, Artemis pointing out various rooms and equipment and their typical uses to the newest part-time resident. Eventually, they came to the final stop—what had long ago been fondly dubbed "The Lounge" by the original members.
Superboy, Miss Martian, Robin, Batgirl, and Beast Boy were splayed out on the various couches, watching some random old sitcom playing on the television. Superboy glanced up at their entry, a questioning look on his face at the unfamiliar figure at Artemis' side.
"Hey, everyone," Artemis hollered. "Come meet the new guy." She waited patiently as the others clambered from their seats, coming to stand before the pair.
"All right." She gestured to each one as she spoke: "Superboy, Miss Martian, Robin, Batgirl, Beast Boy—meet Blue Beetle."
The last syllable had barely left her lips before Robin and Batgirl turned and punched Beast Boy and Miss Martian on the arms.
"Ow!" the two Martians (well, one half-Martian) yelped.
"What was that for?" Beast Boy cried.
"Oh no," Miss Martian breathed. "No, not again."
Robin and Batgirl lifted matching brows over their tinted lenses, smirks quirking opposite corners of their lips. "Blue one."
Everyone present would deny they jumped when Nightwing's voice boomed over the PA system: "I have trained you well, my young padawans." A familiar, long unheard cackle echoed ominously off the walls before the speakers abruptly clicked off.
A beat passed. Two.
"Why am I here," Blue Beetle whispered. "No, countermeasures are not necessary at this time, there is not a real threat, sto—"
"Nothing is safe," Miss Martian murmured, eyes glazed over. "We will never be safe."
"Don't worry, M'gann," Batgirl reassured. "We're not half as competitive as the original Slug Bug Duo."
Robin wrinkled his nose. "Is that what we're calling them?"
"Got any better ideas, Bird Boy Squared?"
Robin—Tim Drake, to be exact—frowned. "Haha. You think you're so clever."
"On occasion."
"It's spreading," M'gann sniffled. "The next generation is doomed."
"Hold on," Conner interjected, awkwardly patting his girlfriend's shoulder, "I thought Slug Bug was banned after the whole Central City fiasco."
Robin held up a finger. "Sort of. It was specifically banned from the first Robin and Kid Flash in in-costume circumstances. Never the whole team, or in private spaces."
Conner pulled despairingly at his hair. "Great. So who's the idiot who came up with this stupid challenge? We need to have a chat."
"You want someone to blame?" Artemis drawled. "Wally's the one who taught Nightwing how to play in the first place."
The original members of the Team stared blankly at the archer.
A strange chittering sound echoed briefly, followed by harsh whispered Spanish.
"You're joking," Tim breathed. "Did he have a death wish?"
"Speedsters aren't exactly known for their common sense," Batgirl pointed out.
"Sad, but true."
"Wait a second," Conner said slowly, hands falling from his head. "You're telling me. That this whole nightmare. Started because of Wally?"
Artemis grinned. "Promise me you won't kill him?"
Conner cracked his knuckles, sneering in a terrifyingly Bat-like manner. "Don't worry. You can keep the pieces."
And with that, the half-Kryptonian strode out into the hallway, trailed by an uncharacteristically aggressive, "Get him, honey!" from Miss Martian.
"Is it always like this?" Blue Beetle piped in, sounding vaguely terrified.
"Yup," Beast Boy popped, leaping back over the top of the couch.
Robin patted Blue's arm sympathetically. "You get used to it."
.
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(+3.
Nightwing stared, wide-eyed, at the towering black figure before him.
"Hello, meat," the armored man purred, metal lips curling up in a glaring white smile.
A lump built up in Dick's throat, the position at his side glaringly empty. "Black one.")
A/N 2: *sings* Sorry, not sorry, an mianhaeseo mianhae *wiggles*
This is going to sound silly, but I had so. Many. Five plus one fic ideas back in the day, it was my FAVORITE DANG TROPE/STORY FORMAT. And this is the first one I've finished (**grindsphobiasdeepintothedirtunderthecoffin**), so heyyyy. Thanks for reading! 3