Chapter Text
Track 2: Crush’d
“I saw that.”
Dick blinked, shoving the cell phone back into his utility belt. His eyes narrowed beneath the mask, keen on Batgirl, who only looked to him with slyness and mischief. Even he had to shudder at this one. Babs knew more about him sometimes than a normal person should.
Still, having so many thats his other best friend could have seen, Nightwing couldn’t help the confusion in his voice. “Uh. What?”
The redhead jabbed a finger down the hall, where the rest of the team sat eating late-night pizza to celebrate a successful mission. The debriefing had gone flawlessly and Nightwing now had new information to decipher. “You. And the new kid—Impulse.”
Wait. Wait, wait, wait—
“What?” Dick felt his voice jump an octave, and was grateful the movie in the living room was playing too loud for anyone to hear. Heat fluttered in the teen’s cheeks, and he looked to his partner-in-crime in horror.
“Please. Like I don’t know when my best friend’s got a massive crush when I see it. Cute one, Flash’s grandkid.”
“It’s not—” Not like it was…planned.
“So you’re not denying it.”
“Well, I—” Dick knew it was true. Bart was growing on him. From the little quirks to the way Bart lit up—he was getting attached. Otherwise, he would be the one Wally called and ranted to about Bart. Wally had done it before; grumbling about how ‘irresponsible’ Bart was until Dick requested his best friend stop.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have totally lectured Wally on the phone just now.
“Don’t act like it’s a bad thing.” Continuing the conversation without her best friend’s responses, Babs only chuckled at his reaction. She crossed her arms, looking to the taller teen with amusement. “He’s cute. And, it may weird Robin out a little, but you know he’ll accept that, too.”
“Babs…” Dick groaned. This was one of those intervention-without-the-team kind of thing again. The last time it happened, Wolf was built a doghouse.
“Nuh-uh, Dick. Don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise.” Raising her head high, Batgirl turned around and started a trail back to the living room. Three steps away she looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Even you need to be happy, Boy Wonder.”
xxx
When there weren’t missions, there were training sessions. Only on occasion would it happen, and usually it was hard to train with so many people on the team now. Sparring happened before or after missions, or whoever happened to be in the cave at the time. Right now they were in the middle of what Nightwing called “stealth and terrain.” Babs made fun of him and called it Super-Hero Hide-and-Seek plus Paint Ball Guns. Anything went.
There were three teams separated, led by one captain and occasionally two. You get hit, you were out of the gams. May the Odds Be Ever In Your Favor, giggled an enthusiastic Wonder Girl, who’d been chosen as Captain #2. Tim was Captain #1, and Nightwing was #3.
When the Bats dispersed, they all knew this was going to be a challenging game—er, session. Stealth and Terrain tested your ability in craftiness, and then the ability to use your team’s best assets. Dick had been perched in a tree for a good hour scouting out harder targets. Looking for the bent light in Megan’s camo-mode or finding Batgirl’s motion sensors took skill. The latter was so skillful with tech that Wally once asked if Babs had been a robot in a past life.
Blue Beetle, Bumble Bee, and Superboy were on his team. Even for Dick, Bumblebee was hard to find unless he was paying attention to detail, and Superboy was a lot stealthier than many gave credit for. Jaime had been eliminated within the first ten minutes of their battle (due to excessive mutterings, according to Mal, who monitored things from the cave) and La’gaan five minutes later, who everyone predicted would be crawling around the water.
“Karen’s been hit,” Mal reported, a bit of solemnity in his voice.
“Sorry, Mal,” Dick muttered, and he kept the gun close to his body. Usually the game ended with a standoff with Dick and whoever else decided to find him last. Fortunately for the team it wasn’t always about who won the game, but how long they lasted—
“Alright, yip-yip! Heheh, Tim, this is so cool.”
“Bart, I don’t think Superboy would like it if you painted arrows on Wolf’s head and—please, stop calling me Tim.”
“Alright, Red. Wait—whoops. Spoilers.”
If Nightwing wasn’t a professional at his job he would have laughed. In the middle of a clearing, only feet below him, Bart was settled on a tired Wolf’s back, who grunted when the speedster kicked his sides. Behind him, Robin had been convinced to ride Wolf too, red bright in his cheeks.
“What is it boy?” Bart grinned, and he affectionately petted Wolf’s head. “You smell something?”
“Well!” exclaimed the loud, boisterous voice of Wonder Girl. She floated feet above the hair, paint-gun in hand and smug expression across her face. At the floor, Batgirl, Superboy, and Beast Boy held their guns precisely, all aimed at Team 1.
“Huh. Well, that explains a lot,” Bart chirped.
Tim groaned.
Dick sat up from the next he created, fully prepared to intervene. Then…decided maybe this would play out interestingly. He sat back in his perch and wished he had popcorn.
“Don’t worry, Robbie, if Aang can navigate a sky bison, then I can too!”
“Impulse, Wolf is a wolf.”
“Oh, right.”
“You’ve got two choices!” Cassie exclaimed from aerial. She grinned, gun loaded and kicking her feet like a child. “You can either come with us willingly or—” POOT. A splatter of bright orange stained her shirt and sent Wonder Girl tumbling back, courtesy of a smirking Superboy. “Aww, what?!”
“Wonder Girl is down,” Mal informed. “You gonna tell them you’re hanging in a tree, Nightwing?”
“What would fun would that be?” Grinning, Nightwing stood up from his position and watched as Batgirl immediately recoiled against Superboy. She shot a ball of purple and he punched the ground, a cluster of dirt large enough to block the attack.
Taking a leap in the air, Superboy dodged an array of-paintballs with ease. Tim took the vantage point to fire at Batgirl, who twisted and maneuvered with grace.
“Impulse, can you see which way they’re going?” Tim called over the sound of fire.
“Totally! It’s like dodge ball, only crasher!” Whatever that meant.
Using the distraction to his benefit, Dick fired his gun, a storm of orange paint splattering the arena as he moved. Unfortunately, Wolf heard it just in time and leapt into the air, airborne and dodging everything Dick shot. From the corner of his eye he could see Babs hit with orange and pouting, while Superboy himself had been shot with purple.
“Where are those coming from?” Tim hollered. “Dammit, Nightwing—”
“Better watch yourself, Robin.” Climbing and jumping trees like a monkey, Dick grinned from his point. They were far enough away that Bart and Tim couldn’t see him, and Wolf was too busy dodging paintballs to sniff him out. Team 3’s leader grinned wider when he heard Tim groan, hit in the cape with a splash of orange.
The last thing he expected was for a pair for a pair of green eyes to follow his line of fire—
“IGOTHIM—” Impulse lunged from Wolf, gun in hand, and blurred through the forest. Nightwing took to higher ground, climbing the tree higher than before. The vague image of Bart ping-ponging from tree to tree appeared as a red-and-white blur.
A storm of bright green paint balls exploded from ground-level, all recklessly aimed into the trees with no thought. Dick swiveled, explosive batarang in hand to negate Bart’s path. He flung it close to the speedster’s feet and barely made out Bart as he hopped over it.
BeepBeepBeep
“Missme~missme~nowyougotta—”
BOOM!
Instantaneously the batarang exploded. Nightwing heard a cry of surprise and landed on his feet. Holding the paintball gun close, he scanned the area and—
“Gotcha!”
“No you don’t.”
“OOF!”
Through the smoke and ashes that gathered from the explosion, Bart burst through a path, twigs in his hair and soot patched over his suit. As he raised his gun to fire, Nightwing elbowed him in the chest and pinned the speedster to the ground. He straddled Impulse’s body and smirked, paintball gun pressed to the teen’s jugular. “Told you.”
A groan tumbled out of the poor speedster’s lips. He arched his back, choking on a breath as green eyes opened and took in their surroundings. Bart blinked—once, twice, then too fast for Dick to see under gold goggles. He grinned. “I like the view from here.”
Nightwing snorted. “I bet you do.”
“You’d win that bet.” Beneath the goggles, Bart wiggled his eyebrows and angled his gun at Nightwing’s elbow before giggling. No lie—he giggled. “Anyone ever tell you, you look crash in blue?” As if there was any better place Dick could be right now.
He rolled his hips (later realizing how odd that gesture may have been) and his smirk widened. “About as good as you look in red, Imp.”
Bart wriggled. “We should make purple. Purple’s a nice color—it’s a nice color, don’t you think? Purple nurples, purple orgasms—you ever have a purple orgasm? They are delicious—”
“Uh. Dick?”
And part two, of being interrupted in a potentially awkward situation. Dick looked up, Tim’s voice registering in his head as the third Robin stood at the edge of the first’s feet (as awkward as Babs promised) and very, very confused. He was doused head-to-toe in purple paint (meaning Cassie may have gone trigger-happy with the paint-gun.)
Regaining composure, Robin only frowned, bemused and wary. (Cripes, he was getting the hang of calling Dick out on his crap.) “Miss Martian and Wolf are about to have the final showdown. Then you’re gonna evaluate, right?”
“Uh. Right.” Pulling Bart from the ground, Dick strapped the paint-ball gun to his belt and ignored the way Tim scrutinized him later. He felt a yank to his arm and blinked behind his mask.
Bart grinned. “You. Me. Purple orgasms!” Zip! He left.
Which left Dick and Tim by themselves standing parallel in the forest, one confused and the other counting the number of lines he had in his glove.
Dick cleared his throat. “You have any idea what a purple orgasm is?”
“It’s a drink.” Tim turned a bright shade of pink, staring his mentor down expectantly. “He showed me.”
“Like. Showed…?” Judging by the shade of red and frown twisting across Tim’s face, Dick decided, ‘no,’ Bart did not ‘show’ Robin what a purple orgasm was. Not sexually, anyway. Still, the third Robin looked skeptical of what he walked into. Dick coughed. Trust a Robin to make another one feel odd about himself.
“Do you…” Tim’s face twisted beneath the mask. “Like him?”
“No! I—well.” Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Why, do you?”
Generally whenever he did something that was outside Robin’s comfort zone, the kid didn’t question it. Instead Tim kept the tone steady in his voice, wrinkled his nose a little, turned the slightest shade of pink and disappeared. At the moment, he flushed and tried to shrug it off.
Oh. Oh.
“Tim!”
“No, Dick.”
“But you are so—”
“We’re just good friends.” Making another sound, Tim started the trek back to the others. “Plus, it’s weird. Wally’s not going to be happy when he finds out about this.”
“Which is why he won’t,” Dick said immediately, then froze. “Not…that there’s something to figure…”
“C’mon,” Robin said, cutting off his predecessor completely, “Let’s go see what happens.”
Just as Tim said, the epic showdown commenced with even Mal appearing from HQ. All team members, splattered in defeat, watched as the tired Wolf and Miss Martian circled each other, one grinning and the other yawning. Lagoon Boy cheered for his girlfriend, Blue Beetle cheered for Superboy’s companion. Cassie nudged Superboy playfully in the arm, apparently forgetting how she’d easily lost, and Babs and Karen exchanged small talk.
This, Dick mused as Gar looked between both La’gaan and Jaime with confusion, was his new family. Their family.
He didn’t realize Tim and he took different sides of Bart until the speedster spoke. “My money’s on Miss Martian!”
“Don’t count Wolf out,” said the new Boy Wonder wryly, “Just because he doesn’t have opposable thumbs doesn’t mean he can’t work a paintball gun.”
“Right. So, how’s he holding it again?”
At the standoff Nightwing called out, ‘Go!’ and caught a laugh from a giggling Bart, who rambled on something about a cartoon. Five minutes into the showdown, Team 3’s leader felt a hand yank his and looked down to bright green eyes, which only brightened in his presence. “Yes?”
A cute, apple-red blush painted across the speedster’s eager face and he grinned goofily as he rocked on his heels. “We should go out sometime. On a real, crash date.”
Dick almost laughed. Instead, he looked at the shorter teen with amusement, watching the eagerness in his eyes and could practically see a tag wagging at that…really…cute…butt. He did a quick scan, looking to Batgirl who watched his every move with a smile, then to Robin, who eyed him occasionally but said nothing.
Bart tugged on his hand again, expectant. He smiled bashfully, and it was…a mix. Not serious, weight-on-my-shoulders Bart, and not the I’m-Flash’s-totally-awesome-grandson Bart either. A good middle—someone who was edging on his next response.
Don’t act like it’s a bad thing, Babs had said. And Tim may be a little weird, but—
“Justthinkaboutit,” Bart chirped when he didn’t get a soon enough reply. He rocked on the balls of his heels again and held a grin as Wolf started digging. “I’ll even wear green to make my eyes pop, and you can stare at them the entire time. Or we could skip to the other stuff—the good stuff. You ever try parasailing? I wanna try it—is it possible to go faster? We could go hang-gliding! Oh, crash, we could so go.”
Dick hummed. They’d come quite a way since Bart’s arrival, and he knew now that despite some similarities, Bart and Wally were two separate people. He liked that a lot, too.
“If you wear green,” he said, half-joking, “I’ll wear blue.”
The crowed exploded into cheers when Miss Martian fell to the ground, a loud, overdramatic ‘Noooo!’ leaving her lips when Wolf won.
xxx
“Okay. Okay, fine, he’s growing on me.” Wally grumbled obscene things on the phone later that day. “And…I apologized. He looked like he’d been given a shiny red truck and latched onto me for about an hour. Did you know the kid loves hugs?”
“Glad you two are bonding,” Dick said flatly as he snuck into the kitchen. Later that night they’d decided to end with a movie. Cassie, Conner, and Jaime decided to retire early, which left La’gaan and Megan, snuggling and knocked out on the loveseat and Gar sprawled out on the couch, occasionally shapeshifting through three species of monkeys in his sleep. Everyone else had decided to go home.
Wally let out a sharp sigh. “I should give him another chance, shouldn’t I?”
“I’m not here to play the middle-man whenever you argue with your little brother, KF.” There were so many types of wrong in that sentence. Feeling a blush glow in his cheeks, Dick searched for a quick snack and settled on goldfish.
His best friend made a sound. “He’s not my little brother and—don’t…call me that.”
“He basically is.” Smothering a few goldfish in his hands, Dick made it to the main computing room and grimaced at the spots of paint he found on his elbows. “You’re gonna get overprotective of him at some point. He is family.”
“Oh, god,” said his best friend, and the edgy panic showed itself. Dick imagined the redhead yanking at his hair. “Could you imagine him latching onto a girl like that? He can’t date, he’s like, fifteen!”
Um. Bart’s…proposal ran through Dick’s mind again earlier that day. “Have you met yourself? On a side note, told you—big brother mode.”
“Yeah? Well—” Wally’s sentence stopped. “Anyone who breaks his heart gets a hand vibrating through theirs.”
Dick said nothing. He finished eating his goldfish and hoped to call it a night.
xxx
Bart and Tim were very good friends, true to Robin’s word. It was almost himself and Wally again—only, not. Only very, very different, and Dick had the bruise to prove it when he asked Tim that one night.
Later that week, fresh from the zeta-beam tube dressed in a comfortable set of civves (a navy sweater Megan had given him that Christmas and a pair of pants that would hopefully withstand his next growthspurt), Dick stood outside the front door of his best friends’ apartment in Palo Alto, waiting to go see a movie.
It’d been a spur-of-the-moment kind of idea (and Artemis’s spur-of-the-moment ideas meant, ‘I don’t care if you’re defending the world from giant dinosaurs, you’re gonna take a break and hang out!’), but Avengers 2 came out and Wally was too busy to see it.
Naturally, the solution was for Wally’s two best friends to go see instead and rub it in his face later.
Dick cracked into a grin when Artemis opened the door, dressed in an apron that was covered with flour. “Ready?”
“Give it a minute,” she opened the door wider to let the teen in. Artemis walked across the living room, wiping food-covered hands in her apron. “Sorry I didn’t answer your phone call, I would have, but Bart and I were making cookies.”
The teen paused against the island counter, mid-transition to pick up a cookie. “Bart’s here? You two get along?”
“Yes and yes.” Artemis moved to the sink to wash dirty cookie trays and laughed when she saw the look of bemusement across Dick’s face. With a smirk she turned around, leaning against wet dishes to get a better look at Young Justice’s leader. “Is something wrong, Dick?”
“No,” Dick said earnestly, though it took him a minute to find his voice. “I just…does Wally have a problem with it?” The last time he checked, Wally was still be-grudgingly accepting the fact Bart was Barry’s grandson and his, ‘first cousin once-removed.’ The first week Bart was with Young Justice, Dick reassured Wally that Bart would not replace him as his best friend.
As…something else, Dick wasn’t sure just yet. Tim still gave him odd looks whenever Bart and he talked, and Babs had that knowing glint in her eyes that reeked of trouble.
“If Wally thinks he can forbid me from doing something, then I’ve been dating the wrong person for the past five years.” Please, they were practically married. Case in point when Artemis emptied the dishwasher. “Bart’s a good kid. Besides. He didn’t rant for a month about not having his fanboy-crush on the team when we first met.”
“Hahaha.” Dick laughed loudly, matching the mirth that radiated in the ex-archer’s tone. Grinning at her from his position, he cocked his head when the front door opened on its own.
“—bye, Cissie! See you next time!” The tiny speedster hobbled in, silly grin across his lips and stopped in the living room when he saw the pair. “Hey, Artemis. Hi, DG!”
“You talking to Cissie again?” Artemis smirked.
“Yeah!” The teenager zipped to their sides, an apple in one hand and three cookies in the other. What threw Dick off at first was—
“Is that an arrow?” Dick blinked, tapping the point carefully.
“Yeah! I had it between my knees and she hit it. She is so crash.” Grinning, he plopped onto a stool and took a bite out of the apple. He failed to notice the odd, very confused look that came from his team leader, and Artemis only laughed.
“Cissie,” she explained, “is my neighbor and she’s Bart’s age. She’s training to someday compete in the Archery division of the Olympics. Bart visits her every time he comes up here—which reminds me. Bart, you and I have a good relationship, right?”
The speedster munched away at his apple until all that was left was the core. He grinned, apple seeds stuck in his teeth. “I’d like to think so. Hey, you know who has a good relationship? The Rugrats! They were friends since they were babies—you ever seen that? Always thought Tommy Pickles and Kimi Finster would end up together—pickles, do you like pickles? I like cucumbers better but, hey—beggars can’t be choosers—”
“See?” Artemis interrupted, amusement in her voice. “You can get along with him if you can understand his rambling.”
“Pshh, even then, Wally still acts like I’m the wart on the back of his heel,” Bart exclaimed. He spun around the stool three times and smiled lopsidedly. “Pretty sure he’s still mad that I took the last burrito in the fridge.” Extending a hand, Bart picked up two more cookies and ate them cheerfully. “
Dick smirked, passing a knowing glance to Artemis, who only laughed. “That’s because you told Cissie to shoot it off your head.”
“Yeah! Crash!” Bart turned to his team-leader and smiled eagerly, the memory still evidently fresh in his eyes. They teemed with excitement, and once they caught Dick’s own gaze, Bart calmed down. He stopped spinning, eyes fixated on Dick’s own and a goofy smile stretched on his lips. “Very crash.”
“Really now?” The way Bart looked at him, big green eyes fixated on his presence and a smile that could build cities made Dick smile too. The sensation was so tight again that he leaned closer so he and Bart were nothing but at eye level.
The speedster twitched, a firmness to his smile and one eyebrow peaked. He tugged on a bang and laughed, quiet and sweet. The shyness from only days ago reappeared in his irises, and Bart tittered. “Really.”
“Good to know you like an arrow between your legs,” the older teen teased, and he moved for the roll of paper towels, ripping a piece to get the seeds out of Bart’s teeth.
“Hah!” The younger teen exclaimed, and he tilted his head up, mischievousness teeming in his demeanor. “Jealous?”
“Only for you.”
“Crash.” Beaming to the other teen, Bart spun until he faced Artemis and welcomed himself to another cookie. Between chews he asked, “So where are you two going again?”
Note to self: Bart was a messy eater. Cookie crumbs accompanied apple scraps in brown hair, and the speedster failed to notice. Pulling attention away from the bits of food from Bart’s hair (after nonchalantly brushing them out), Dick looked to the ex-archer, who had been curiously quiet during the entire exchange.
Now, Artemis was staring at them, much more obvious than Tim had been and mouth parted. She looked to the eldest teen warily, then to her boyfriend’s cousin, and said carefully, “Avengers 2. Wally’s been freaking out about it since he saw the previews.”
“The second Avengers?” Bart perked, standing up from his stool and looking to his practically-cousin-in-law like he’d just gotten a new puppy. “That movie was so crash! Retro special effects, smooth-talking assassins—crash actors. Man!”
“You can come if you want to.” A laugh left Dick’s lips and he stood taller, looking to the younger teen with mirth.
Bart hmmed, literally twirling around and stroking his chin. “I already saw it with Grandma and Grandpa. And the Garricks. And Tim—Tim and I saw it in 3D.”
Oh. Tim hadn’t mentioned anything about going to the movies with Bart. Dick felt the gears turn in his head, and while he had no problem with Tim, the fact Bart and he hung out still deterred the other teen. They’d been dancing around the “Bart Allen” subject on patrol nights since the Stealth and Terrain test, and Dick would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little…bothered.
Bart apparently noticed. He zipped around the island counter, grinning, and grabbed hold of Dick’s hand. “Of course, lemme ask Joan. She’s making pot roast tonight.”
“You’ve got time,” Artemis said, arching an eyebrow.
“Don’t wanna be running late.” Tittering again, the teen rushed out of the house, leaving Artemis and Dick by themselves in the kitchen.
Instead of teasing him senselessly or give him the third degree like Babs and Tim respectfully, Artemis looked to him, eyes narrowed, amusement on her lips, and smirked, pulling the apron off her body. “Do you have a C-R-U-S-H?”
Dick turned pink. “M-A-Y-B-E.”
“C-U-T-E.”
Half an hour later found the trio at the local movie theatre. Artemis sat in the driver’s seat, making sure she had her money and car keys while Dick and Bart carried on an interesting conversation about stilettos.
“You think I’d look good in stilettos?” Bart flipped a page in his Sailor Moon book and hummed, eyes scanning the page. Speed-reading—before his eyes reached the end of one page, he was already on the next. It’d been a very good idea to give it to him before they left the house.
The elder two only laughed. Dick looked over his shoulder. “I think you’d still be shorter than me.”
“Not complaining about the view.” Wiggling with no shame, Bart hopped out of the car and flipped another page. Green eyes looked to him through the window, bright, impish, and almost halfway done with the book. As Dick got out of the car (and ignored the look Artemis was giving him), Bart stood at his side with much enthusiasm. “Skirts are fun, all nice and breezy.”
“I take it you wore one once?”
“Of course! Covert mission with Robin! Of course—” Bart rubbed his chin, eyebrows knitted together carefully. “Though, we couldn’t figure out how to keep my boxers from showing underneath the skirt—”
Oh, god. Artemis choked on a laugh—she was having way too much fun with this.
Zip!
In the blink of an eye Bart was out of the parking lot and through the front door of the theatre like a five-year-old at Chuck E. Cheese. Again, Dick was left alone with one of his oldest friends, a breathy sigh at his lips and an odd smile.
“You know Wally’s going to have a cow when he finds out about this,” Artemis pointed out. “He’ll flip shit.”
“So I’ve been told.” Running a hand through his hair, a coy smile came across his features and he shrugged. “But I figure I’m his best friend and Bart’s his little cousin. We’ll get a twenty minute head start: ten so he can make heads-or-tails of the situation, and another ten so he’ll figure out who he’s angrier at.”
“I didn’t know you were interested.” She arched an eyebrow, half a smile across her face as they followed Bart’s trail inside.
“I wasn’t.” He turned pink again. “But he’s like a…little, hyperactive ladybug on a sugar high. Once it lands on you, you don’t have the heart to flick it away. Only, you know. Cuter.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, boss,” Artemis chuckled, clearly more than approving. The ex-archer made her way toward the ticket booth and looked to Dick. “You go find your little boyfriend and I’ll get the tickets and popcorn. Alright?”
“Alright.” He trekked across the movie theatre. The team—before everyone had quit and gone different ways—had been here once. It was years ago when Dick was fifteen and—and, he thought wryly, awkwardly adjusting his sweater, could go a day wearing civvies without Robin-ing up the place. (Sometimes he’d have to remind himself he wasn’t Nightwing.)
He found Bart in the back of the ‘Game Corner’ behind four models of Mr. Claw’s Toy Shoppe with an old set of arcade games from the 90’s. Two blue-and-green Adidas were hiked against the front of one particular machine, and green eyes were at least a centimeter away from the screen.
Dick looked over the younger teen’s shoulder and squinted. “Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon?”
“The arcade game!” Bart stuck his tongue out, bouncing with each automated sound and jerking with each kick Sailor Jupiter delivered.
The elder teen looked at the current high score compared to Bart’s and—huh. “You’re pretty good at this. You’re about to beat Wally’s high—and, there you go.”
“’Course I’m good at this,” chirped the speedster. He looked over his shoulder, eyes darting from Dick and to the screen so fast they looked like green ping-pong balls. “Video games were my life growing up. Literally.” Bart grinned when he beat the final boss and typed in his name above Wally’s.
Dick eyed him curiously. “What do you mean?”
Once more, Bart looked at him, this time more surprised like he made a slip. A sheepish smile came to his lips and he tugged his hair before hiking to top of the game system.
“The speedster…gene was passed down to me, so I’ve got all the powers the Flash. But…my mom’s side of the family came from speedsters too.” He tapped his head. “Eidetic memory and speed reading. When I was five, I read the entire kids section at the San Francisco Library just to see if I could do it. Took me ten minutes. I used to get into episodes where everything would be in relative time and…too slow. Mom built me a VR-chamber designed to pace me until I came down from Speedster Reality.”
Huh.
“So,” Dick said carefully, and he took a step closer, scrutinizing the nonchalant Bart as he waved his legs. “You get into…speed episodes?”
“The worst,” Bart nodded, and he rolled his eyes with frustration. “When that happens, you’re just all moded. Ever try to sit through a movie that’s going frame-by-frame? Sheesh. But yeah—I’m normally a boss when it comes to these retro bad boys.” He grinned cheerfully, shaking against the buttons and—
BLOOP BLOOP BLOOP. GAME OVER.
“Oh.” Glaring at the game, Bart pouted and rummaged through pockets. He came up empty. “Grife! That was my last quarter!”
“Hahaha.” Without even thinking, Dick dipped his head back and laughed. Hard. He couldn’t help it, watching the bashful glow in Bart’s cheeks. “I can’t fathom why you like this series so much.”
“What’s not to like?” The younger teen scoffed, disbelief written on his face as he kicked his legs once more and pulled out the volume of Sailor Moon he’d been reading in the car. Green eyes brightened happily. “Cats, frilly skirts, and heroes kicking the villain of the week’s butt. This stuff writes itself! Plus, they’re pretty!”
“Is that all?” Dick mused.
“The hero always wins, no matter how bad it is.” Bart flipped to the end of the book, gesturing to the black-and-white inked artwork that was decorated in glitter and big eyes. He crossed his legs, knee against the joystick and fascination returning to his manga. “Always.”
There was a flicker, back to when Bart and he had gone to the restaurant over a week ago. Blue orbs narrowed to the tiny teen in front of him and Dick bit the inside of his mouth, suddenly consumed by that expression. The slightest wrinkle in Bart’s brow, the way he chewed on his lip and seemed to go into a different world. To another time.
He tugged on Bart’s free hand and yanked the book out of the other. Green eyes looked to him, wistfulness fading into confusion. Dick laughed. “Sailor Moon has Tuxedo Mask to save her whenever she gets into trouble.”
“I’d get into trouble too if that meant I could get a rose in the middle of a fight,” the teen quipped. His lips twisted into a grin. “Seriously. Those things must be deadly.”
“Okay,” Dick said.
“Okay what?”
“Nothing,” he said once more, smiling as he scooted Bart off the arcade game and locked hands firmly. “Just, okay.”
“Uh, okay.” Bart turned pink.
Artemis waited outside the Game Corner with two separate Jumbo Sized Popcorns, three drinks, and a bag of twizzlers. Her eyes fell to the interlocked hands, up to the flustered speedster, then to Dick. Both boys had the goofiest smile she’d ever seen.
“Well,” she noted, looking between them, then to her old teammate, “You got him to shut up.” She grinned as Bart made a face.
“Is that what people say when you get Wally to be quiet?” the brunet asked.
“That’s what I say when he gets Wally that quiet.” She snickered and pointed to Dick, playfully punching the younger teen in the arm before handing off the Jumbo Popcorn and drink, then made her way toward the theatre. “C’mon, I want good seats.”
Laughing, Dick watched her walk and shook his arm to get Bart’s attention. “She’s fantastic.”
“Yeah!” Bart agreed. “Just wait until you see Arrowette and her take down Lobo the Bounty Hunter!”
“Uh…what—”
“Oops, heheh. Spoilers.”
They’d gotten the last three seats in the row. Artemis made it obvious, taking the farthest right and leaving both teenagers to sit together.
Halfway through the previews, a giant green goop monster melted the projector screen.
xxx
“Sorry we destroyed your movie theater, Artemis.” Nightwing scratched his head.
“On the bright side, the managers now have this crash ice sculpture in the shape of Flubber,” Impulse grinned. He shook what he could of green goop out of his hair and pushed it back. Grossly through green slime, it stayed. “You know, for about another hour until the Justice League gets that voicemail and shows up.”
Artemis chuckled and raised her hand to pet him—then stopped, realizing the state he was in. Out of the three of them, she hadn’t been doused with the green goop. “No problem. Sorry that the both of you had to walk back here.”
“Not a problem,” Dick smiled that turned into a grin when Bart nudged his arm. “It was…interesting.” Meaning, a happy speedster who happened to find four volumes he didn’t have at the nearby bookstore. (Unfortunately the cashier refused to let them in due to the slime.)
She arched a playful eyebrow and unlocked the front door. Bart tittered. “Have fun with your sweet goodbye kiss on the porch. I’ll be in here if you need me.”
SLAM.
Uh. Nightwing turned to his comrade, who had been doused with the same amount of Flubber-sludge as he did. Green glob clumped Bart’s hair together, stained the outside of his goggles, stuck to his cheeks, and still slid down his body like loose grime.
Nightwing looked down to his own torso, where the bright blue emblem of his uniform could barely be seen. Ugh, the stuff was crusting over.
Red gloves suddenly palmed his chest, scraping off what it could until the wings could be seen.
“When I said I’d wear green for our first date,” said a cheerful speedster, “this isn’t what I meant.” He looked to Dick with bright eyes, mirth in his voice and tone.
Dick watched as the substance fell off like green mold. “First date?”
“It was, wasn’t it?” The younger teen looked up, matching Dick’s expression. Eyebrows disappeared under his brown hairline and he took a step back, red blooming his cheeks. “Uh, I mean, not that Artemis was third-wheeling or anything. Or maybe you weren’t being literal when we both said green and blue—yikes, that would be embarrassing. I’m not good with signals—seriously, if I was, I wouldn’t be running red lights, y’know? ‘Cause—”
“C’mere.” Dick tugged the teen close until he could properly place his palm on the small of Bart’s back. He pushed red and yellow goggles above Bart’s head, grinning as the color of Bart’s cheeks matched his suit, and kissed him.
Bart made a noise—surprised, then pleasant. There was a tingling against the other teen and Dick realized Bart’s entire body was buzzing.
Funny, he thought, bringing Bart closer as Bart kissed back, the goop was vibrating off. Both of them, actually.
When they parted, Bart’s lips glistened under the moonlight, swollen and red. Green eyes looked to Dick, dreamy and faraway. They blinked—once, twice, and three times before regaining their natural sheen. “Okay. How many volumes of Sailor Moon do I have to trade to get one of those again?”
“A Sailor Saturn for a Pluto.” Dick grinned.
“Deal.”
“Why is there goop on my welcome mat?” Wally’s voice.
Turning their heads, both teens caught sight of cousin-slash-best friend at the bottom of the steps, a box of pizza in one hand and text books in the other. These green eyes scanned the pair, Wally’s lips in a tight line and one red eyebrow raised.
Fortunately he wasn’t giving them the third degree.
“Is my girlfriend okay?” the eldest boy asked, frown fluttering across his features.
“She’s the only one that didn’t get attacked with goop.” A grin split across Bart’s face and he leaned over. At the angle they stood, Wally didn’t see Bart grab hold of Nightwing’s arm. “That’s what you get for not seeing Avengers 2, ‘cuz.”
A comment like that with Bart’s tone would have earned a smack upside the head. Dick bit back a laugh, looking down to his companion curiously. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
Bart shrugged. “I’ll get a ten minute head-start if he freaks out.”
Freak out, Wally did. But not in the sense either teen thought he would—“Wait, what?! You and Artemis went to see the movie without me?!”
xxx
“You saw. Avengers 2. Without me.”
“How long are you going to pout?” Dick stepped out of the shower, inside his apartment for the first time in weeks. He wiped the steam off his mirror and was met with a smile. His own smile. Since leaving Bart that night, he could not stop smiling.
“I don’t pout.”
“You’re right. Bart pouts.” Dick ran a towel through his hair and made it to his bedroom. He found the Nightwing uniform clean and laid out for him. Quietly thanking Alfred, he began to dress. “You just sulk.”
“You’re comparing me to my cousin?”
“He gets offended when I do that too,” Dick said flatly. Reaching for his domino mask, the teen switched the phone on his ear and smiled out the window, where he caught a flash of long red hair on the fire-escape of the building across the street from his. “You free next week? Artemis wants to try a new yogurt shop.”
Wally snorted in the phone, amusement teeming in his voice. “A mini-date with my girlfriend?”
“Maybe,” Dick said, nonchalant as ever. He slid both boots on and opened his window.
“Pfft. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d almost think you were my girlfriend’s other boyfriend.”