Track 6: Right Where You Want Me

The cave was bustling when Bart arrived. He was still very much dressed in his tuxedo, with matching shoes, the cool bowtie, and even the little patch of hay Cissie stuffed in his pocket before kissing him on the cheek that night and calling him a goofy little scarecrow. It was nice, Bart decided, having someone outside the world of heroes smile at him, even though he was a little weird. It was nice, watching her light up when he ran them to the beach in California and she taught him how to skip rocks. It was nice, hearing her talk about crazy Bonnie King-Jones, and how she wondered if she was good enough to really be in the hero world.

The tiny voice in the back of Bart's head—the one that nagged and scratched at his resolve as though it was nothing—told him to forget about Nightwing. Forget about the way he smiled through his frown of disapproval, or the way he would put his hand on the small of Bart's back and pull him closer until they touched, and pretend he didn't hear Bart the first time. Forget about his warmth, or the way he managed to get that laugh out of Dick. The one where Dick sort of crooned and cackled, forgetting about all entities in the room because it was like…Dick remembered to be a kid again.

Yes, insisted the tiny little voice in his head, it was just that easy.

Only it wasn't. Cissie knew his secret, only because he was careless one day and she saw him running. She was smart and pretty and cool. And…one day she would pull another archer aside and be the strength—the right arm that he needed.

Cissie was a reminder that Bart didn't belong in the past. That, even with Nightwing, he was screwing up everything. The last thing he ever thought he would find in the past was heartbreak.

It felt like it did when he hurt his knee: running, feeling the wind and adrenaline whistle through his ears with no regret, and then…boom. All the pain, all the agony as his heart caved in, asphyxiated from all other emotion except for guilt and fear.

Superboy greeted him on the platform, in the middle of specs and calculations. The silhouette was almost so familiar that Bart could have cried. All that was missing from his hands was a bouquet of flowers and a chirpy comment that dried in his throat. As Conner scanned the boy over, Bart found himself at the end of a brotherly kiss and a hug.

"I hope you realize you're an idiot," Conner chided.

"What do you mean?" Bart looked up, eyes tired and brow furrowed.

"Don't pretend you can endure everything." A large hand petted the brunet on the head, super blue eyes morphing in concern. "I can hear your heartbeat whenever he's around."

Stunned, Bart couldn't think of a response. He looked to his feet, shoulders to his ears as red bloomed in his cheeks. Only moments later found Bart by himself, sitting in a room where months ago, Wally, Dick, and Superboy had hauled his time machine. The thing had started collecting dust; maybe a few cobwebs.

He would come here in the two months since his stay, to watch the machine. Sometimes he found himself tempted to fix the mechanism; yet many of the parts required to assemble it would not be built for another few decades.

Going back to the future, Bart knew that he would be dead. Irey would scold him. If Jai were still alive, he would ruffle hands through brunet hair and kiss him on the temple, much like Conner had done. He imagined that Uncle Damian, too, would beat him upside the head and then make him go to work, pretending it was a good enough apology.

Yeah, the brunet thought to himself. It would have been amazing.

Clutching the wrench between his hands firmly, Bart only stared at the machine. It took him nearly a year to create it; three months deciphering the chicken scratch from the Flash's notebooks and lacing it together with the theories of the second Batman. People thought he was crazy. After his mother died—his only family, Irey refused to leave him. Jai, too, but…

Bart bowed his head. Impulse was a better name for him than he would have thought. Past fixing the krolotean issues, making sure grandpa stayed alive, and mending Uncle Wally and Dick Grayson's friendship, he wasn't sure where to go. Every head-banging path led him back to the time machine; reassembling parts and disassembling parts. Fixing tubes and unfixing tubes. He couldn't leave. It would have been just too easy to run away.

Behind him, the door squealed as it was slowly opened. Maybe that was why Bart liked the room so much. It was underdeveloped; slow and rickety. Primitive to even this time period, but crooning doors had been around for ages. Jaime teased him for liking little things like that; Jaime reminded Bart of Jai.

"Should have known that I would have found you here."

He was so moded that even pretending to joke hurt. Pretending that everything was okay, that he wasn't even the slightest bit angry at Uncle Wally, that maybe…just maybe he wasn't in love with Dick Grasyon. He'd felt the ranges of anger, frustration, and sadness forty years from now. But heartbreak…heart break was a new concept for him.

"I could have gone to other places," Bart murmured quietly. He flicked his wrist, allowing the wrench to catch the light of the lanterns above, then closed his eyes. He didn't expect Wally to meander across the room and sit beside him.

The seconds passed between them as water dripped from stalactites. Even now, Bart never understood the relationship between him and his Uncle Wally. He was treated like a third child; embraced and protected, but treated like a delicate thing because the Allen Family was dead.

"It's a nice room, isn't it?" Wally mused, and he joined his cousin in scrutinizing the machine. "I used to come here a lot. Did my best thinking here."

Bart shrugged.

"It used to be my souvenir room. Was pretty mad when Nightwing thought it was the best place to keep your machine." Wally bumped shoulders with him, a tiny smile on his face. When it wilted, discouraged, Bart couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction.

This time, though, he turned to meet Wally's eye.

Guilt shimmered in his cousin's gaze. Beneath the hue of green, furrowed beneath red eyebrows, there was a way the redhead analyzed him that was different from the others. For the first time, Bart saw…substance. He saw Wally looking over not as a foe, but as a family member. Like how in forty years, his uncle would gaze at him—which, in retrospect, was kind of eerie and creepy. And after a long, long time, Bart had gotten pretty used to creepy, especially after watching his uncle's son flirt with the 'goddamn Batman.'

Swallowing a breath, Bart raised his head a little higher, inhibiting anymore solemnity to rake at his insides. Without forewarning, he announced, "I'm listening."

"How close were you and I in the future?" Wally questioned. His eyes narrowed wryly, lips curled into a frown.

At first, Bart hesitated. He'd formulated a fake family life to explain whenever he came to the current time. Tim immediately called him out on his shit, and every time Bart even said anything to Conner, all he got was a pat on the head and a look of brotherly pity. Nightwing took an even deeper interest, analyzing everything he said. Something told Bart that his ex-boyfriend's best friend—his family would not take kindly being lied to. Nor did he have the strength to remember what he said.

"In the future," Bart started, "My…my parents are gone. My dad when I was six and my mom when I was eight. You—" The brunet made a point of meddling with the wrench in his hands. "—made a point to have Max Mercury to take care of me. Until…"

Until he got lost in a speed entity—something called the Speed Force that his generation had little information to go about. One Wally West and his wife would dedicate their lives trying to dissect this, but not for a very long time. Bart tossed the wrench between his knees and hugged himself.

"Something happened," he muttered quietly. "To all of them. And…and I was mad at you for a while." For the first ten years of his life, this Wally West had been in charge of him, but even Bart only got glimpses of the man as a blur or a camera goof on the eNews and something less retro than what current city-goers called 'televisions.' "You…I grew up knowing the history of the Flash family. Of knowing what my grandfather was like, and how much my grandma loved him until everything went sour. About his partner, Kid Flash.

"You...you weren't there. Not at first, and I didn't know why. But…a-after Max disappeared, literally the hour after he was no longer on our planet, you showed up and took me in." Bart swallowed hard, staring at the time machine at the edge of his feet. It was one sheet of metal, a particular alloy made specifically for this machine—and engraved on the side of the machine, no bigger than one of Bart's fingers, was the name Wally West. "I thought you hated me.

"I thought that all these years, you were too busy being Flash and just thought you were too good to give your aunt and uncle's grandson a chance. You had your own family and all, a…and no one really looked at the Allen Family after Grandpa Barry died. That's what Mom told me.

"When you took me in, you treated me like one of your kids. We didn't get along at first, either—you thought I was too fast and you were just impatient. Then you pulled pranks on me and let your kids take care of me and…" Bart's nails dug into the palms of his hands and he straightened his legs, allowing himself to see the matching loafers he wore for prom. "And that you were afraid of losing me, too. You were the first stable home that I had in ten years, a-and Iwouldhavedonanything for you. Even—"

"Even break up with my best friend to keep us together?" Wally guessed. The vibrato and intrusion of his voice nearly made Bart jump. He'd gone on a tangent with his explanation, forgetting about other presences in the room. Just…confessing everything he'd kept bottled up for a while.

Bart nodded uneasily. "I-Idon'tbelonginthistimeperiod."

At this instant, he expected Wally to bonk him on the head again; call him a brainless moron and tell him damn straight. What he heard was an upheaval sigh as Wally collected to his feet and offered a hand. As the teen took it, he felt a squeeze and saw the remorse in the ex-hero's eyes.

"I was wrong," Wally muttered humbly.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

"Excuse you?"

"I was wrong," the redhead said again, this time more belligerent. He sighed disdainfully, running a hand through his hair before taking a step back to look at the younger speedster. "Look, I don't know why—maybe you've got this damn good luck charm or something—only I don't believe in magic—but I like you. I really, really do."

Okay. Now, slipping out of his depressing views and considerably very confused, Bart blinked a handful of times, his mouth parting slightly.

"You…love my best friend, right?" Guh. Wally had this somewhat wrinkly look on his face, like he was trying to talk while pulling out a splinter from his hands. Those things hurt.

The question did, too. The moment the 'L' word was tossed out there, Bart's eyes moved to the stalactites above him. He debated this in his head—over and over and over until it just hurt and jarred into a tiny conclusion. Bart shrugged with a quick twitch of the shoulder. "Eh."

"Eh?" Wally's eyes bugged out. He looked ready to kill him. "I'm about to give you permission to date my best friend, and all you can do is throw aside his feelings like 'eh'?"

"What do you want me to say?" Glaring, Bart bit the inside of his mouth and coiled his hands into fists. He breathed sharply and kicked the wrench with his foot even though it hurt. This wasn't how the night was supposed to turn out. Not after running out of Palo Alto the moment Wally caught them. "I didn't need your permission to date DG, Wally. I never did. J-Just because we broke up doesn't mean…doesn't mean it was about you." The words fell emptily on his tongue, hollow as he felt. By the time he got to the end of his rant, Bart's focus had turned to the ground, glaring in frustration at his feet.

"Yup. Uhuh. Sure. Anyway—" Wally hit him over the head. Hard.

"Ow!"

"You still bug the everloving shit out of me. You're lucky I don't wring your neck." Wally waggled his hand half-heartedly, eyes half-lidded in some weird retro sarcasm along with a smile that curled across his lips. Seething, the redhead ruffled brown hair and sobered. "Anyway, you don't have to be the adult here, Bart. I'm telling you this now that you can ask and beg and get what you want—even sometimes when it seems ridiculous—"

Wally's eyebrows furrowed together like he was making the hardest decision in his life, then a whole new amusement tinkered across his gaze, totally out of character for the mood. "Anyway, I'm turning the table over to Wing—" At a speed worthy of the Flash, Wally grabbed him by the arm and flung him out the door.

"What the—oof!"

"Don't worry! I'll be sitting here. Patiently. Trying not to laugh."

Bart looked to his cousin in disbelief, then turned around. To a bouquet of blue asters that glowed with the intensity of…two cerulean blue eyes and…a mop of black hair clipped back with a twin pair of pearly clips over the very famous, very first kiddish Robin smile.

His throat went dry, doing a full lookover of his leader. "Princess Serenity?"

Even to Bart, the comparison was almost ridiculous. He forgot to be angry at his cousin in favor of the long gown that Nightwing indubitably wore. Bart's favorite part about Princess Serenity's skirt was that it flowed like a waterfall, dancing and sashaying over her legs like music. It was ethereal—and on Dick's own body, only reached his ankles. The tunic was laced with gold and a large bow with twin ribbons that flowed on either side of him. He was barefoot—(Bart would later comment how her feet were never really shown)—and the way his torso was angled compared to the real Princess Serenity, made it look like a man wearing a really large retro—vintage nightgown.

He would have laughed, only Bart was still overcoming the shock. His hands had slackened—and, and, even the makeup looked good.

"You're wearing a dress," he said stupidly.

If Dick was embarrassed, he didn't let it show. Taking a step forward, the elder teenager shrunk the distance between the pair, then bowed his head. Under clumps of black hair, Bart could vaguely make out the shape of a golden crescent moon. He grinned mischievously, and Bart knew he would never again be able to take orders from his leader without thinking of this dress.

"Am I pretty?" Dick asked as if it were the most casual thing ever.

Bart gulped. He nodded. "Very pretty." He couldn't help but notice the silver sparkles on the side of Dick's face and the way his eyelashes fluttered. From the corner of his eye, he could see the little crowd gathered on the couch, followed by Artemis and Miss Martian, who looked very proud of their handiwork, and was aware of Wally, who was slowly circling the room to be next to his girlfriend. For the first time since the Flash Family dinner, he saw the pair lace hands and Artemis kiss the man she loved on the cheek.

"Do you remember these flowers?"

"I got them for you. On that very first day when you agreed to go out with me. When I was trying to proposition you since I thought you'd like sex." When Bart was nervous, he rambled. He had no filter on his mouth, his brain fell into autopilot, and it was like running the same path taken a thousand times without actually looking, so you were in trouble if you ran into a pedestrian like an old lady on the street who would beat you with a cane or an umbrella—a yellow umbrella preferably since it was Bart's favorite color next to blue—cerulean blue—

Wally's eyebrow twitched a little, like it was the first time he heard this. Of course it would be—knowing DeeGee, he probably deleted all the security footage just like Bart anticipated because that was such a Dick Grayson thing to do, and it made sense because this was super-cute Dick Grayson.

Dick took closer steps until the flowers were pressed against them. A large hand took Bart's very own and cupped it around the stem, and an amused smile curled across that face. "You gave me these flowers. Blue asters, and then we went out to eat. You told me all these ridiculous plans you had and how you loved Sailor Moon and…and then you called me out on something."

He padded his finger along the side of Bart's face, blue eyes brimming with fascination that made Bart's heart do a somersault. This…this was always how Dick looked at him, and Bart knew centuries from now, he would never get used to it. Each time Dick looked at him like this, he'd fall into this trance all over again and never want to leave.

The elder teen continued, inhaling a sharp breath and spoke loudly, eyebrows furrowing. "You knew that I was in love with my best friend even though I tried hard to keep that a secret. I did it because I knew he was in love with my other best friend—someone I loved like a sister, and some day…I'd come to love him so much that it hurt and I needed to tell him."

In that brief moment, Bart wanted to look away to see the color drain from Wally's face—to see the reaction that had formed, but Dick had a hold on him.

"What you were really asking instead…other than making my life ten times weirder than it has been—" Dick's hands found themselves on his hips, pulling the younger teen closer until he picked the brunet up and placed him on the kitchen counter. "Was for me to fall in love with you instead, to keep that friendship intact. Because you love your cousin more than anything, and if I could shift my feelings, then I would still have my best friend."

This time, Dick look embarrassed. He turned pink, and with each climbing word, Bart could feel himself turning darker, too.

"What you didn't anticipate was for it to work. Or for you to fall for me, too." Dick cupped his face, blue eyes locked solely on green. "I…love the way you laugh, even when it's inappropriate. I love the way you light up when anyone talks to you. I love those little freckles that are on your nose—" To that, a round of high-pitched aww's radiated through the room—Bart was pretty sure he heard Jaime's voice in that, too. Dick rolled his eyes. "—I could kiss them. All of them. I love being able to hold you like this and knowing I have you."

Bart's lip dribbled. He'd never been one to cry—only have speed episodes, and he couldn't deny feeling so flustered and touched that he was close to vibrating off the counter. It was hard, heart thrumming in his chest and focusing on the way Dick's lips moved and hearing the audible words and not counting the glitter spots on his ex-boyfriend's face.

"DG—"

"Imp," Dick continued, his eyebrow peaked dangerously. He kissed Bart this time; on the top of his ear just the way the brunet loved it. "You're the first person that I've fallen in love with after four years. And we get each other. Can you just…please stop running away and let me catch you?"

Wow. Wow. Grife.

The brunet sniffled, his hands fisting in the taller teen's clothes as they rocked back and forth gently, swaying in Dick's arms. "Can we take turns wearing the dress?"

It was enough for a sweet chuckle to tickle Bart's ears. "Promise."

"Okay."

Dick lowered his head and kissed him.

There were cheers. The way the team acted about Dick and he as a couple was never an exaggeration—the girls cooed, guys aw'ed, and there was even cake involved. Artemis threw her arms around both boys, giving twin kisses on the cheeks, followed by Miss Martian and others. Bart never expected for them to gain so much hype, but he spotted Tim, Jaime, and Conner giving Dick cautious looks and appreciative smiles. Cassie pulled him away, one-armed and high-fived him, BB was still confused on the whole Dick-Richard-DG thing. Wally looked as though he wanted to say something—but he held his tongue. Looking at his cousin cautiously, Bart wondered if Dick and he were going to discuss what just happened.

But after Dick tensed, nervously smiling to his best friend and Wally hugged him—platonically—he relinquished that thought. Dick would tell him if it was a problem.

They would stand by each other, hand-in-hand with a grip too tight because neither boy wanted the other to leave his side. Later that night, with odd festivities still going on and Wally fighting over the Wii with Gar, Bart sat contently on his boyfriend's lap and played with the skirt of the dress.

"The team's never gonna let you forget this." Bart grinned quietly and kissed his boyfriend.

Dick sighed in his hair, petting Bart's hips and moving his legs. His fingers ran down either side of the teen, pressing and unpressing against the dress shirt Bart wore. "It's worth it if I get to have you."

Wriggling in his position and ignoring the shouting matches during Mario Kart 8 (something Bart usually loved to play, but he loved sitting in Dick's lap even more), Bart's hand pressed tightly on his boyfriend's inner thigh over the satin material and he moved his butt over Dick's crotch. "We should go back to my room and you should take this off."

Chuckle. Figures—usually the darker-haired teen shrugged off compliments like that.

"For real." Bart climbed his lap and nuzzled his ear against Dick's. "I'll put on that Sailor Jupiter uniform for you. And forget to wear underwear."

Dick shivered at the thought, turning a modest shade of pink that put Tim to shame.

Bart smiled. Things were totally back to normal. "Remember. Green makes my eyes pop."

xxx

"Okay."

Nudge. Bart smiled shamelessly, swaying back and forth with Dick at his side, hands laced together as they enjoyed Chinese food at Happy Harbor. He was drunk with giddiness, a little lightheaded that his second Flash Family Get Together had gone much swimmingly, and had to bite back a giggle whenever Dick's hand clamped on his thigh. In his defense, Dick had been the one to start the swaying. Who knew—the great Nightwing was totally able to relax.

At one in the morning after going on a brisk run, two Allens and a pair of best friends stopped by for Chinese food. Wally sat next to Barry, halfway through his dumplings (flawlessly using chopsticks even though Barry had given up halfway through the meal) and his eyes narrowed at the pair.

"So, you two are together again. For about two weeks now, and I haven't deterred you a bit," Wally announced as though it was a fact. It was.

"Which is good," Barry added, and he scooped a spoonful of fried rice with no interest in eating it. In fact, Grandpa Barry looked between the couple with a smile that said, 'I can't find anything wrong with this, and even if I could, I'm not going to crash it.'

"Stop," Dick murmured to Bart—a little goofy, since a speedster elbow was humming precariously on his lap.

"I get that you two are a couple and everything." Wally opened his mouth, ushering himself to say more, but then stopped. He sighed. "You know what? I'm happy for the both of you, too. Now that Bart's watched everything of Sailor Moon known to mankind—"

"Not in English!" Bart pointed out. He jabbed his spoon playfully in his cousin's direction, then squirmed when Dick's finger poked his belly. "I've got all the words committed to memory; every last make up! Now English."

"You're going to spend a good amount of time ranting how terrible it is," Dick commented. His eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully, blue eyes amused. "It's…not traught."

"We'll make it traught," protested the brunet. He split into a grin and ate the rest of his stir-fry noodles. "We'll crash the Sailor Mode. And you have to wear a top hat when you do it—and I'll wear the seifuku! Just the way you like it."

Before DeeGee had time to blush or Grandpa Barry could process what exactly just the way you like it meant, Wally had banged a fist into the table, grabbing the trio's attention. He turned green, which was a little offensive but Bart knew he was still adjusting (stomaching) the fact his baby cousin and best friend were a thing.

And, Bart thought, if he played his cards right, then Dick and he would be a long thing.

"Okay," Wally said again, and he took a swig of his Dr. Pepper. "I get it. You two are together. And I'm happy to see you two idiotically in bliss together—ifyoueverhurtmycousin or mybestfriend, blah blah, I'll kick your butt. But—" Wally seethed, turning the brightest hue of red. "Whoever is playing footsies with me, can you please stop?"

Dick looked to Bart.

Bart looked to Dick.

Instantly their legs retracted and they glowed guiltily. Flirting, teasing, and touching intimately came easy and crashfully for them. It was only when someone called them out on it that Bart felt like the blushing virgin he was and Dick was trying to reassemble his pretense of a mature teenager-slash-adult.

So, "Sorry," was a unison response, even if they didn't feel guilty about it.

Later, when Bart finished his fifth meal of the day, Barry pulled him aside before Nightwing and he could leave. It was early on a Saturday morning, and in a handful of hours, Young Justice's several squads would be assembled for a new mission. He looked to his bewildered grandson, a smile on his face while Wally and Dick chatted about something crash at the other end of the street.

They were cool, by the way. Bart returned his future grandfather's smile, rocking on his heels as he remembered only the other day, Dick assured him indirectly-confessing-once-having-feelings-for-his-best-friend hadn't severed a life-long connection. DeeGee was happily relieved and Wally, although thrown off at the thought (seriously? Bart wondered. Dick used to look to Wally like his cousin was his world. Now…those looks were reserved for him) thought very little of it. Bart watched as Wally pushed Dick playfully in the arm.

"Sorry that I haven't had time for you lately." The guilt brimmed in Barry's tone and he touched Bart's shoulder affectionately. "Between the League and getting ready for this pregnancy, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I forget."

"Totally cool." Bart waved his hand, though secretly, his heart fluttered with warmth. "Not very many expecting fathers have to dote on their grandson while expecting a child. Well. Unless you're old and you still got it. Hmm."

Barry looked torn between laughing and not knowing what to say. He chuckled a little, patting Bart on the back before throwing himself onto the tiny teen for a hug. Bart hugged back. "I'm glad. But you and I are gonna go on patrol when you get back from your mission. Okay?"

Bart could have run to the Himalayas and shouted 'HOORAY' at the top of his lungs from that comment. He looked to the man with large green eyes, similar to those above him before grinning. "Promise?"

"Promise, Little Bee." Grinning, Barry ruffled his hair and then gestured to the pair, who seemed to notice grandfather and grandson were speaking and were waiting for the time to go by. "And about dating Dick…I'm happy for you about that too. I'm glad you found a place for yourself."

"Oh. Um." A bashful blush rose in Bart's cheeks and he smiled shyly. He almost wanted to apologize again for acting giddy at the restaurant, but couldn't. They spent the second Flash Family Dinner in glowing warmth, with Wally cracking jokes with both of them, Artemis kissing him on the cheek like an awesome older sister, and the Wests, Garricks, and Allens treating Dick and his relationship as though it was the most casual thing ever. The only time Bart was bummed was when Dick wrestled his hand out of the older teen's pants. He couldn't help it; saying grace around the table took forever.

"Uh…wow, I don't know what protocol says for young grandpa and his future grandson…hmm." Barry rubbed his chin. "Play nice. And don't hurt him. Make sure he doesn't hurt you. Don't let it interfere with your school work and…oh! Be happy."

Green eyes blinked to the wiser ones above him. Barry patted his shoulders gentle-heartedly, smiling to the younger speedster.

"You're a good kid. And I know in the future, your parents probably would have said the same thing." Combing a hand through blond hair, Barry took a step back and looked to Bart proudly. "Iris means a lot to me. As much as Artemis means to Wally and Joan to Jay. So…maybe it's Nightwing, maybe it's not. But it's good to have an anchor. Something to run back to. You have me, your grandmother…"

"And now I have him," Bart gathered. Just thinking about it made his chest tingle.

"Would have said it at the first family dinner too—you know, after getting over my shock." Smiling firmly, Barry gestured over to the duo, then frowned and wagged his hand. "But remember! If he breaks your heart, don't even hesitate to tell me. I know all the secret codes to the Batcave, and even if Bruce changes it, I'm very persistent. Very—"

"Thanks, Grandpa." Bart flung his arms over the man and felt his heart swell with love. Disgruntled, Barry rearranged himself before hugging him back.

"Aw, who am I kidding," mused the blonde speedster after an affectionate breath. "Your dad's probably given you this talk, hasn't he?"

No, Bart didn't say. He nuzzled his head closer to Barry, pretending he hadn't heard the question.

But fatherly love was timeless.

xxx

"What did he say to you?"

Since walking back to the cave, Bart had been cheerier than usual. Well—Dick smiled inwardly, watching as Bart unintentionally hummed with each step that he took, swinging their arms joyously since they opted to take the long way back to Mt. Justice—he'd been that happy since they were a couple again. The taller teen was beginning to wonder—and rejoice—in the fact Bart didn't seem to have a maximum capacity on his zeal.

It was a strange…readjustment since they were a couple. A weight lifted off their shoulders after putting everything out in the open; one that Dick hadn't even noticed was there. True, it was a big fat obvious duh that Wally's opinion came into play about their relationship, but Dick hoped by now Bart understood they were together. No third entity was going to break them apart this time.

"Oh, you know. The Talk that all parents feel they need to give," Bart chirped. He hopped to the top of his feet and pecked Dick on the cheek.

They tended to do that, even during mission briefings and debriefings—lazy kisses, holding hands, and groping where it was the least appropriate. Conner had to beat it in his head that he was the leader and molesting his boyfriend should be circumstantial and not become a regular thing.

"He thinks that you're my anchor. And I like that thought. You're a cool anchor." Bart rocked on his heels brightly, twisting his flighty footing almost like a ballet dancer as they reached the entrance of the mountain and stuffed nimble fingers in his pockets. "If you flexed with your Nightwing suit on, the bird would totally look like an anchor. Or a dolphin. Ooh! You could be aquatic!"

"I don't think—"

"Seawing!" Bart flapped his arms enthusiastically and circled his boyfriend, creating a tiny tornado at the taller teen's feet. "You could squirt water and carry around a TASER!"

"You're ridiculous." Regardless, Dick laughed, even sparing a small giggle as the computer scanned their identities. Once in the middle of the room, Bart's bubbly eyes sobered, amusement teeming in his irises and a beautiful smile that only made Dick…happy. He was really, really happy.

"So," Bart said simply, his eyes gleaming.

"So," Dick echoed. His hand was taken between two slim ones—a pair that never seemed to have calluses, but were scraped with oil under his fingernails. He wasn't sure Bart even realized it, when the young brunet was able to marvel about cars and machines and the mechanics behind them, that he had the makings to become a fine engineer. It was a subject Wally begrudgingly admitted Bart and he bonded over quite well.

While he was busy marveling how long, oblong and delicate Bart's fingers appeared to be, he didn't notice his arm slipped to the small of Bart's back. The tiny teen stepped on his leader's blue TOMs and hooked both his arms around Dick's shoulders. His stomach pressed against Dick's own, and the look in green eyes was a little more than simply lewd.

It was amazing how Bart managed to flip the switch between bliss and arousal so easily; sometimes even blending the two together in casual conversation. But here, with mischief twinkling in his eyes and ears tingling pink with excitement, Dick knew he managed to keep at the same pace as the boy in front of him.

That in its own, being able to keep up with a speedster, was a talent. Bart's eyes glimmered with all the heat and heaviness of the world, then contorted, like the little guy was asking himself, what shall I do with this now?

Dick had no problem lowering his head just slightly for Bart to reach his lips. The height difference between them was almost troublesome, but neither one seemed to notice. Bart had a ball comparing it to the height difference between Usagi and Mamoru and seemed to like dangling on limbs. There were certain…places the taller teen himself liked to reach, ways he liked Bart to straddle him that made this relationship all too pleasant.

He moaned softly, allowing Bart to suck on his lip, and ran his knuckles firmly down the speedster's back. Dick took stumbling steps—carrying both Bart's weight and his with their skin pulsing together. Bart clung to him needily, his hands clenching and fisting the front of Dick's shirt and a sugary croon as his sloppy kisses pressed against the crook of the elder teen's neck. When Bart pressed a kiss to the juncture of Dick's neck, lips grazing at that tiny line where his jaw and ear met, Dick elicited a longer, drawn out moan. His hands found either side of Bart's legs, hiking the teen higher and higher on his body.

When discovering such a pleasant sound, he could feel Bart grinning before the feathery touch of teeth grazed that same wet spot.

"You're into it today," Dick murmured. He caught Bart by the jaw and forced them into a clanging kiss. Bart tittered and undulated against him, fingers padding Dick's thin v-neck. It was always true that the younger teen made most of the sexual advances—even before they were officially dating. Dick didn't know when he would finally take his boyfriend seriously, but he knew that responding to one of these advances (on the rare occasion) meant he was telling Bart to jump and the response was, how high?

While one hand skillfully held Bart in place as they made clumsy steps out of the room, the other searched for bare skin, pulling up Bart's thin long sleeve and cupping skin. He felt Bart gasp in his mouth, and made effort to grab the brunet by his bare thigh, if only to make him blush. It was one of their favorite past times; seeing who could make whom darker.

Suddenly, between rubbing up against the elder teen and exchanging spit Bart pulled away, leaping off of Dick altogether. His legs buckled, weak and fumbling and cheeks set ablaze. Emerald eyes were of a darker opacity and his breaths were warm. Bart's hair stood up at different odds and ends, and the overall dazed expression made him nothing short of adorable.

They were lucky to be alone. By some twist of fate every soul in the premises was either knocked out on the couch from a successful move night or had turned to their quarters for the end of the evening. Wally said his goodbyes with Barry after (coincidentally) telling them not to do anything too extreme.

Dick didn't plan to, he promised. It wasn't a lie.

Still, Bart's lips fumbled breezily and he raised a hand. "Hold that thought." Zip!

A trail of clothes started at Dick's feet. At first, a neon blue sock that touched his big toe through his own shoes, then a neon orange one. A pair of Reeboks littered the ground, one facing north and the other facing southeast, followed by pants—

Which was where Dick's train of thought began putting two and two together. He hesitated—then picked up the laundry one-by-one, deciding that his teammates already had too much of a ball with his love life to begin with. One-by-one he picked up the garments that created a neat trail toward a guest bedroom at the very end of the hall. He tucked the socks in the shoes, slung Bart's haplessly thrown pants over his shoulder, stuffed the shirt in his arm, then stopped at the foot of the door, where a pair of simple red boxers were on the ground, along with a classy door sign of Sailor Neptune and Sailor Uranus with the fancy scripture of, DO NOT DISTURB.

Hum.

Dick's heart throbbed in his chest. He opened the door (already unlocked; of course) slowly and was greeted graciously. Mood music from before even he was born played in the background. A rainbow assortment of candles—not necessarily scented—hung on the dresser, in the closet, at the foot of the bed, etcetera, while various weeds and flowers looking suspiciously from Miss Martian's flowerbed were strewn onto the duvet.

Of course, tucked sweetly under the duvet, as relaxed as possible even for Dick's standards was Bart, bare from head-to-toe with a pleasant blush and the slight tent that was very hard to miss.

Clothes still tucked in his arms, Dick closed the door behind him, amusement teeming in his features. "What's this?"

He could have keeled over in cuteness, watching Bart's lopsided/seductive smile as he bent over. A flush had worked its way from the tips of his cheeks down to his neck. "A romantic mood."

"You have birthday candles sitting all across the room and Megan's flowers at the bed. With the Back to the Future soundtrack playing from Wally's iPod."

Bart shrugged nonchalantly, moving his legs beneath the comforter and leaving much to imagination as he leaned into the bed frame. "Stripped before I thought about getting the flowers and the candles and stuff—didn't think you would appreciate it if I suddenly showed up as the newest Speedster on the channel nine news—Streak. Plus, Marty McFly is hot!"

"That's very considerate of you," Dick mused.

"I'm a very considerate person," Bart agreed. He licked his lips, and the duvet dipped low on his torso, pooling at his legs with little curls of brown becoming Dick's new fixation. "So. We broke up."

"We got back together."

"And that calls for makeup sex." By now, Bart was grinning like a madman, looking like a cross between horny and an eager scientist that hadn't gotten enough skin in his days. It was almost a walking contradiction, how bluntly Bart just forwarded his question, and suddenly he was twisting under the blanket, his hand dipping to the unknown and the flush raising higher in Bart's cheeks.

It was hard to find the line between comedic and hot—and also hard to find his voice. Dick stepped closer to the bed. He couldn't deny the growing erection in his pants, or the fact he was suddenly holding those shoes tighter in his hands to keep his heart steady.

"We haven't had makeup sex yet," Bart murmured, his voice hoarse and deeper in a way the elder teen hadn't known he could pitch it. He ran a hand up and down his chest—where Dick had seen plenty of times on and off the beach in several different contexts. "And I hear that's the best kind."

"Is that so?" Unabashed, Dick stared at his boyfriend, that annoying voice inside his head telling him to shut up and tackle.

"Well—I don't have much to compare to. None at all. Not even the opposite of makeup sex or like, lazy morning sex, which I hear is good too." The natural cheeriness rang in his tone, and the bare Bart leaned forward, mewling. "But I want you to be my first."

Dick's throat constricted. Softly, he managed an, "Oh."

If it was ever possible for a person to look as shy as they were blunt, then Bart managed to do it. He had an extreme caliber of emotions and lay them out without fault. Sitting on the mattress now, fairly confident of his claim yet shoulders tense out of nervousness, Dick was reminded of their kiss in Palo Alto.

He kicked off his shoes, then climbed onto the bed, which dipped under his weight. Bart made room for him, allowing his leader at his side, and reached in for a welcomed kiss. Padding his fingers on the base of the speedster's neck, Dick teased hair before pulling away, mind semi-fuzzy. Green eyes blinked curiously.

"No," Dick said.

Blink. Blink blink. Blink blink blink. "What?"

"No," the elder teen repeated, and this time he was confident when he found his voice. Before Bart's ears could get any redder—mortified or angered or some combination of the two—Dick pulled Bart into his lap—bareness and all, and felt a little sadistic—especially since Bart looked closed to crying all over again.

"You don't want me."

"I want you." Dick kissed Bart's bangs, then stroked chocolate hair between his fingers. A pout formed across Bart's face and he squirmed—Dick had to offer a quiet apology, knowing friction was a powerful enemy and, well, he couldn't seem to stop moving. "But I want both of us to be ready when we have sex."

A pointed look overtook Bart's demeanor and he wriggled in Dick's lap as if to do something. "I'm ready!"

"I'm not." Sex could hurt; especially with a person who claimed they were emotionally ready when they clearly weren't. In no way would Dick risk finding out if Bart was a masochist. Being on the receiving end of Bart's glare of disbelief embarrassed him, but Dick was truthful. His cheeks were red and hands curled over Bart's waist. "When we have sex, I…want to make you feel good. Amazing." Thoroughly taken so even hyper-accelerated healing couldn't hide away a good night of sex.

(He had a feeling if Tim looked at his thought process now—or hell, even Wally, he would wake up mysteriously in Cuba with a lethal-looking rash.)

As Bart started shivering, Dick grabbed the comforter and draped it over his boyfriend's shoulders. Brown eyebrows knitted together, still unconvinced. "What about that kiss?"

Dick shrugged nonchalantly—it was a good kiss. However, it did not change the fact that they'd been together for two weeks—three, counting the week they were together after Bart's accident. Without Bart constantly at his side, it was surreal remembering that they were together, and there was no denying they'd become a couple quickly. He wanted to savor every moment, to make sure every slow moment was carved in his boyfriend's head. "Foreplay."

"Ughh…you're good at foreplay. Terribly good at it. And like, good with words because everything you say just sound like you're about to sex me or something. Which is good." Green eyes darted everywhere, the flush still evident in his cheeks, and he shuddered again. "You suck."

Dick looked down Bart's torso, unconsciously licking his lips. Maybe not penetration, but…"Is that why you're still hard?"

"You make me very, very hard." Bart's voice was between a scold and a whine—not necessarily the typical naughtiness one would find in that sentence. However when it came to Bart, it usually had that affect on Dick.

"Okay," the elder teen said. He threw Bart back onto the bed, allowing the shorter teen's hair to mesh against the pillow, pinned him down, and proceeded with an enthusiastic kiss.

Bart wiggled free, making noises of surprise and eyes glossing in stun. He moved his head, eyebrow arched. "Okay?"

"I'm not going to fuck you," Dick announced—maybe a little louder than he was comfortable with, and he silently wished there was a more eloquent way to say that to his very naked fifteen-year-old boyfriend as an equally horny eighteen-year-old. However, Bart thought nothing of it, only whimpering as Dick dipped low and wetly kissed his collarbone. "But—" He rolled his hips against Bart, the tips of his fingers grazing up Bart's inner thigh and tickling sensitive skin. He grinned like an eager kid as Bart gasped and murmured softly, "that doesn't mean I don't want to make you feel good."

"Oh…," Bart managed, which morphed into a moan as Dick's hand rubbed his nipple. "Oh—"

"So, what's the score, Imp?" Dick grinned despite himself, his hand running firmly on the path beneath Bart's navel before grabbing hold of a fervent erection. He kissed the space behind Bart's ear, squeezing affectionately and pushing apart Bart's legs for good measure. "If I remember…we weren't even dating yet and somehow—"

"Y-You came in my hand," Bart finished wantonly, flushed to a tee. He wriggled, gasping and writhing as Dick dared move at an agonizingly slow pace with kisses on his bare torso.

"Hmm?" Dick crooned, and he moaned himself as Bart's hands clawed his shirt.

"W-We were…w-were stargazing a-and then we made out and…and I slipped my hand in your trunks while you were giving me th…that hickey a-and—" Bart's breath hitched.

"Uhuh," chirped the older teen. He rolled his hips, moving harder.

"And th-then…there was the h-hospital b—oh my god, Dick—ah…"

xxx

A few hours later, Dick patted Kleenex tissues on the wet spots of Bart's torso, arm pooled for Bart to lie on. Hands roamed his chest languidly—simply touching and pressing and prodding to actually feel another person rather than to ask for another round. Speedsters had a very small refractory period. Who knew. Bart's eyes were half open, body like jelly in the elder teen's grasp. Dick had the manners to grab boxers for the both of them, then threw the tissue wads in the nearby waste basket.

He kissed Bart serenely, and chuckled quietly when Bart murmured crash in his hair.

"That was good," he said, words half slurred.

"Thank you." Smiling shamelessly, Dick leaned in, locking blue eyes to green.

"That was very good," Bart echoed, and his hands found their way on Dick's hipbone. They smushed together, belly-to-belly. He breathed in the musky scent of sex and buried his nose in bare skin. "Like. Wow. Grife. Crash. I love you."

"I love you too." The elder teen swooped down and grabbed his boyfriend in a kiss. He meant it. He loved Bart. Neither one bothered to mention it was the first time they'd said it directly. The look in Bart's eyes were worth a thousand more I-love-yous until he lost his voice, and every time those three words were spoken, they would only carry more meaning.

A hand pressed against Dick's chest, firm and sweet, and touched his pulse. The smile was lazy, tied with brightness and warmth that heated Dick to the toes.

"You sir, are a very good masturbatory device," Bart crooned, faking a British accent.

Smiling coyly, the drowsy leader didn't protest when Bart regained part of his energy and lay on top of him. "Is that even a word?"

"Please! You're the king of words." Bart's hands strummed his chest, still feeling and searching. There was the way he looked to Dick, with green eyes shining and head raised high that took Dick's breath away all over again. Suddenly, it softened, and Bart leaned forward, chest-to-chest with him. Their noses touched, the sheen of their gazes bouncing off each other. "Hi."

"Hi." Dick ran a hand across Bart's tan back and threw the sweaty duvet above them. He smiled, gaze fixated on the younger teen.

"You…" a brunet eyebrow stretched hesitantly. "You think we can last this time?"

Dick strained his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his beloved's face. Once planted, he stared into green eyes firmly and readjusted himself. "I know it's better not to think about it. And that I'd crash the mode with you any day."

There hadn't been a good time to mention it earlier; how Dick managed to catch part of the conversation Bart had with his cousin weeks ago. The way Bart shined despite all odds…that was what fascinated him. Just like the family he had in the future, Dick wanted to be part of it. He wanted to be Bart's anchor, keep him together, and know that he had more than just family to run to.

He was never the best at words. Being put in a dress made him puke out his feelings like he was a thirteen-year-old kid all over again.

Green eyes glittered as though instantly reassured. Bobbing his head up and down, he pressed his chin to Dick's chest, ears bashfully pink. "Right. Sorry. Speedster jitters. AndwhenIgetspeedsterjittersI get—I like you. I really like you. Like—"

The door opened. Of all the times Dick forgot to recite a lockdown code, Blue Beetle barged into the room, furious. "BART! Did you eat all of my Chicken Whizees aga—"

Blink. Blink.

"I'm going to walk out of this room now," said the Hispanic teen slowly, his accent suddenly becoming thicker, "and forget I saw this." SLAM.

The door slowly opened again.

"Uh, and—Superboy says it's time for the mission."

"We'll be there in fifteen minutes," Dick assured.

"Uh. Right." The door slammed again, the whir of Blue Beetle's wings buzzing in the hall and a cry of, "No! That's weird, but they are not a threat! No they aren't! No they—!"

Once the voice faded away, the couple was left in their own ministrations. Bart rocked on his boyfriend's torso before falling to his back and whistling. "I should buy him some more Chicken Whizees."

A laugh illuminated from the back of the elder teen's throat. "I like you too, Bart." He held Bart close, this time tangling fingers in his hair and squeezing tightly. "And I'm here for you. Right where I should be."

A grin matched his own. In a blur of sparkle and red, Dick found a mask pressed to his face, with black Kevlar thrown in his direction. Impulse stared him in the face, goggles in all with arms at his side. "How long do you think it'll take before the team knows?"

"Five seconds."

"Yikes." Bart kissed him happily, held a 'V' to his forehead, and grinned. "C'mon, Tuxedo Mask! We've got a beetle to shut up!"

Dick followed behind without a second thought.

The End

xxx

Author's Note:

This was…so fun to write. Thank you so much for all the hype that it's gathered; I didn't think so many people would get into the story. I'm sad to say that there won't be a sequel to this story, but my decision for now is final for that. I can promise you I'm thinking of some ideas for some new stories, but for now, I hope you won't mind settling for just this one! I've also been meaning to do this, but if you haven't already, read Smile by Skylark Evanson. It's beautifully written and deserves to be looked at.

Anyway, thanks for following. Although I can't promise you a sequel, I hope you'll look at any of my future works and maybe I'll see you again. (: Thank you so much!