+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.)