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…