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Dick pulled his keys out of his pocket as he made his way up the stairs to his apartment. It had been a long night, and he hadn't even patrolled in costume yet. He'd been sitting in the passenger seat of a patrol cruiser most of the night, but somehow he was nearly as tired as he would've been had he been out as Nightwing. He was more than ready to fix himself a bowl of cereal and put his feet up for a few minutes before suiting up.
His keys jangled as he unlocked his door, and he pulled it open, then froze. He could hear something. Someone was in his apartment. He wrapped his fingers around his baton -- police issue wasn't quite as good as his escrima, but it would do in a pinch. He closed the door silently and crept through the kitchen, sticking to the darker shadows.
Then the smell hit him. Beer and cheap vodka, neither any kind he kept in his home. He frowned, then heard a familiar hiccuped sigh.
"Wally?" he called, flicking on the kitchen light.
A shadowy lump on his couch waved clumsily at him, a large, plastic bottle of vodka held precariously in his fingers.
"You're home," Wally slurred. "Finally."
"Dude, what are you-- Hey, no," Dick crossed the room quickly and yanked the mostly empty vodka bottle from Wally's hand before he could drink any more.
"Hey!" Wally protested, flailing a little. "S'mine!"
"Something tells me you really don't need any more." Dick went back into the kitchen and dumped the last inch of the cheap vodka down the sink drain. "What are you doing here?" he asked, as he went back into the living room.
"Can't a man come visit his best bud?" Wally hiccuped,but still managed to put enough bitterness into his words that Dick winced.
"Right," he said, a little too quickly. "Of course you can, dude, any time."
"You're always too busy," said Wally. Dick shoved his feet aside and sat on the opposite end of the couch.
"I'm not busy right now," he said.
"Bull," said Wally. "You've got.. stuff." He frowned for a moment, before remembering what he was trying to say. "Bat stuff."
"It can wait," he said, quickly. "Why are you drunk?"
"Roy," said Wally, as if it explained everything. "He's a good friend, even if he is a clone. Took me out to... to drown my sorrows. My stupid, pathetic, slow sorrows."
Dick looked away. He hadn't been in contact with Wally much the past few months -- as Wally had pointed out, he had been more than a little busy lately. But Bruce kept him up to speed on anything noteworthy. And that had included the fact that Wally was losing his powers.
Barry had hypothesized, when it had first started a month ago, that because Wally had subjected himself to the speed formula while he was still developing, his powers had somehow attached themselves to his adolescent hormones. Now that he was 26, and no longer a hormonal teenager, it made sense (or as much sense as Barry could make of it) that he was slowing down.
But clearly the fact that there was a scientific basis to it wasn't making it any easier for Wally to cope.
"Too slow t'do anything," Wally continued, muttering almost to himself. He hadn't lost all of his speed, but he was nowhere near his former speeds. And the gap between himself and Barry and Bart was widening every day. Even Jay could lap him now, if he tried.
"Wally..." Dick found himself at a loss. The distance that had formed between them did nothing to help Dick's ineptitude at openly discussing feelings.
"Shouldn't've been Roy taking me out," Wally mumbled so quietly Dick could barely hear him. "Least he knows how to have a good time, though."
Dick frowned. "I know how to have a good time," he insisted.
"Pfff," Wally waved his argument off with a loose-limbed gesture. "Not anymore you don't. Used to, though..."
Wally sat up suddenly, and squinted at Dick.
"...What?"
"We used to have a really good time," said Wally, shifting closer.
Dick felt his cheeks heat up. He was certain that Wally wasn't referring to the epic video game competitions and movie marathons of their youth.
Wally rested his hand, sweaty and clumsy, on Dick's knee. "Aren't you having good times with, uh... whasshername... Starfire."
"Don't, Wally," Dick warned, tersely. His split with Kory had been a little over a month ago, and it still stung to think about, even though they had parted as friends.
"She's hot, dude," said Wally, oblivious. "Her legs..." He slid his hand up Dick's thigh.
Dick caught his wrist and pushed it away. That had felt better than it should have, and he tried to convince himself that was mostly due to the fact that no one had touched him like that since Kory.
"Wally, stop it," he said.
"Why should I?"
"You're drunk, for starters." Dick let go of Wally's wrist. "And we're not dumb, horny teenagers anymore."
"Nope," said Wally. "M'not drunk, but I am that other thing."
Dick couldn't resist the opening. "Dumb?"
"Horny," Wally corrected, moving his face in what Dick assumed was an attempt to waggle his eyebrows.
"You are drunk," Dick repeated, ignoring the flush in his cheeks. He wasn't a good enough liar to tell himself he didn't miss the sexual fumblings he and Wally had had as teenagers, when they were still figuring out sex and their own bodies. Back then, he'd been able to pass it all off as youthful experimentation. But now...
"Am not," Wally insisted, his tone taking a turn for the belligerent.
"Yes," Dick sighed. "You are."
"Prove it," said Wally.
"What? How?"
Wally flopped forward, pressing his open mouth to the fabric of Dick's uniform pants, fumbling Dick's belt open with dexterity Dick wouldn't have suspected from someone as drunk as he was.
"Breathalyze me, Officer Grayson," he said, his voice husky and breath hot against Dick's thigh.
Dick stared down at him in wide-eyed shock, but before he could react, Wally paled and he stumbled away from the couch.
As awful retching sounds echoed from the bathroom, Dick was selfishly glad Wally's speed wasn't completely gone yet.
He refastened his belt and took a moment to compose himself, giving Wally a few minutes of privacy until the retching stopped. He made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the case of unchilled ones beside his fridge, and headed into the bathroom.
Fortunately, the mess was contained. Unfortunately, it was contained in his bathtub, which Wally was now passed out against, his head still hanging over the edge.
Dick sighed and carefully pulled him back. He wiped his mouth with some toilet paper, and slung him carefully over his shoulder. The fact that Dick was now taller than Wally was a point of much amusement to him, when they were on better terms, and he was extra glad for it now. It made it much easier for him to haul Wally back out to the living room and deposit him on the couch.
He dragged an empty trash can over to set beside Wally's head and arranged him onto his side, draping a blanket neatly over him. He pulled the coffee table closer and left the water bottle within arm's reach. Wally started to snore softly as Dick rummaged through the side table for one of the numerous first aid kits in his apartment, fishing out a couple speedster-strength painkillers and leaving them beside the bottle.
He stood back and surveyed his work. Satisfied that Wally would survive the night -- and the following morning -- he braced himself to go clean up his bathroom.
"You're lucky I love you," he muttered. "Even if you are an asshole when you're drunk."
Wally snored louder.
--
Dick woke later than usual the next morning, though "later" was only just an hour past dawn. He slipped into sweats and a tank top, slipping quietly through the dimly lit apartment, not wanting to disturb Wally, who was tangled up in the blanket Dick had left on him.
He toed into his sneakers, switched his iPod on, and headed out for his morning run. He was still doing his very best not to think about the events of the previous night, even though there was a dull ache in his shoulder to remind of him of the vigorous scrubbing he'd had to do in the bathtub. He was glad he had a second bathroom en suite, because no matter how much bleach he'd used, he still wasn't eager to step into that tub again any time soon.
He kept his jog short, but stopped in at a nearby coffee shop before heading home again. When he pushed the door open, the paper and a bag of pastries and bagels under his arm, two cups of coffee balanced carefully in a carrier in one hand, he could see that Wally was gone, the tangled blankets left in a mess. The pills and water bottle were gone as well.
He sighed a little, setting the pastries and extra coffee on the counter. He didn't know what he'd expected. He leaned against the countertop, sipping his coffee and skimming the paper's police blotter to see if he'd missed anything.
A moment later, he was startled by the sound of a toilet flushing. He turned around to see Wally, now dressed in one of his shirts, coming out of the bathroom.
"Hey," said Wally a little hoarsely. "Sorry, I uh. Borrowed your shirt," he gestured to himself. "Mine kinda reeked. And I used your toothbrush. I'll buy you a new one."
"Actually, it's yours," said Dick. At Wally's confused look, he continued. "You left it here, last time you were over."
"Last time I stayed over was your birthday," he said. "Six months ago."
Dick shrugged, lamely. "I got breakfast, if you can stomach it," he said, eager to change the subject.
Wally looked contemplative for a moment, then took a seat on a stool on the living room side of the open counter. "I could eat," he said. "Coffee, too?"
"Light cream, no sugar," said Dick, passing him the cup. He had always laughed that someone with such a sweet tooth didn't like sugar in his coffee. "You, uh, still like it like that, right?"
Wally grinned a little. "Yeah, just barely not black." He popped the lid off and inhaled the steam rising off it.
"I got bagels and pastries, too, if you want."
"Yeah, dude," said Wally. "Bagel me."
It was Dick's turn to grin, but he hid it by turning away to rifle through the bag. He passed Wally a bagel, plastic knife, and miniature container of cream cheese, and leaned forward on his elbows. It really shouldn't have surprised him, he thought as he watched Wally eat, that his appetite wasn't entirely diminished by the loss of his powers. It would have been too strange to see Wally eat like a normal person.
Dick picked at a cheese danish as he sipped his coffee, pretending to read the paper as he watched Wally work his way through a second bagel.
"Hope you keep all that down this time," he said as Wally finished his coffee.
"Oh man," said Wally. "I vaguely remember throwing up in your... bathtub?" Dick nodded and he winced. "Dude, I'm really, really sorry, I barely even remember what happened last night."
"Wait, you don't remember any of it?"
Wally shrugged, a little awkwardly. "I remember leaving the bar with Roy, and I remember being in a liquor store," he said. "And I remember you getting home, and then running to your bathroom, but that's about it."
Dick sighed, but his relief was a little too evident.
"Why?" asked Wally. "What did I do?"
"Nothing!" said Dick, so entirely unconvincingly that he was a little embarrassed for himself.
Wally ran a hand through his hair and slumped down to rest his chin on the counter. "Sorry, dude, for whatever it was. I've been kinda..."
"No, Wally," said Dick, interrupting him. "It's okay, really. I get it."
Wally was quiet for a moment.
"If you get it," he said, not looking up, "why haven't you said anything?"
"Huh?"
"About," Wally gestured vaguely, "this. Me. My powers." His voice broke a little, and Dick did him the favor of pretending not to notice. "I know Barry told Bruce about it, so it's not like you didn't know..."
"I..." Dick frowned down at the pastry he hadn't realized he'd been shredding between his fingers. "I dunno, dude," he said at last.
"Oh," said Wally, and the hollow bitterness from the night before was back. "I should go," he said, after another pause.
"No," said Dick. "I mean, if you want, but, I, uh..."
"What, dude?"
Dick huffed out a short, tense sigh. "I want you to stay."
"Great," said Wally, and the bitterness wasn't going away. "It takes me puking all over your bathroom for my best friend to actually want to spend time with me again."
"It was just the tub," Dick muttered.
"What?"
"It wasn't 'all over'," he explained. "You only puked in the tub."
"That's not the point!" Wally cried, wincing a little and holding the side of his head. Clearly his headache wasn't gone.
"Sorry." Dick crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants instead.
"For correcting me, or for avoiding me?" asked Wally.
Dick looked away, feeling guilty. "Both? I guess?"
"You guess," Wally said dryly.
"I haven't been avoiding you," Dick explained. "I've just been--"
"--busy," Wally finished for him. "I know, that's what you keep saying."
"It's true," said Dick. And it mostly was.
Wally sighed. "I know, dude, with the Nightwinging, and your new police gig, and the girlfriend--"
"We broke up," said Dick. And then it was his turn to sound bitter, memories of Wally feeling him up while talking so flippantly about her coming back to him all too vividly.
"What?"
"Kory and I broke up," Dick said again. "Back in May."
"Oh, dude, I didn't know." Wally, for his part, sounded honestly apologetic, which only made Dick feel worse.
"I kinda figured," he said.
Wally frowned. "Wait, what?"
"You uh," Dick floundered for a moment. "Implied some stuff last night. About her and me."
Wally winced. "Sorry," he said, running a hand through his hair again. "I swear, dude, if I'd known... Even drunk me isn't that much of a jerk."
Dick took a deep, steadying breath. "I wouldn't be so sure."
"Excuse me?" Wally stare at him in disbelief.
"You were implying stuff about us while you were. Uh. Sliding your hand up the inside of my thigh."
Wally made a choked sound that Dick wasn't entirely sure should have been possible without an extra set of vocal chords.
"Shit," said Wally, once he had recovered. His face was bright red and his eyes were wide. "I didn't-- Shit! I wouldn't-- Oh my god."
"It's okay," Dick said without any real conviction. "You were drunk. And it's not like I'm still dating her, so..."
"But I thought you were!"
Dick shrugged, stiff and tense. "You were drunk, Wally," he said again. "You weren't exactly doing anything you'd actually do sober."
Wally hesitated. "I was really feeling you up?" he said at last.
"You tried to take my pants off." Dick had to close his eyes for a moment, wishing he were anywhere else, having any other conversation.
"Shit," Wally cursed again, and that was probably a personal record for how many times Dick had ever heard him swear in one day.
"We can talk about something else, if you want," Dick said. He felt tired, suddenly. More tired than he'd felt after work last night, even more tired than he felt after a double shift followed by costumed patrol.
"Can we talk about how you're too busy for your best friend, or does me grabbing your crotch sort of negate my being mad at you?" Wally asked, sounding unsure.
"You didn't quite get that far," said Dick. "Though not for lack of trying."
"I thought we were changing the subject," Wally said, stretching across the counter to help himself to a pastry. Dick suspected it was less out of actual hunger and more out of desire to have something to do with his hands. The shredded remains of his danish proved the same of him.
"Right," said Dick. "Sorry."
Wally shifted in his seat, pulling pieces off the pastry and eating them one by one, rather than stuffing the whole thing in his mouth. Dick watched his hands for a moment, then looked away again.
"...You're really mad at me?" he asked, his voice quiet.
"I dunno if mad is really the right word," Wally admitted. "I mean, I was. Still am, but it's off and on. I'm just... I miss you, Dick."
Dick felt as though he had been punched in the chest.
"I know you're busy, dude," he continued. "You always take on almost more than you can handle, that's just how you are. I know that. But you've always had time for me before."
"Wally--"
"Just let me finish. It's not just you, okay, I haven't exactly been pounding down your door to get you to spend time with me. But I thought, when you didn't even call me after my speed started going..." He stopped and sighed. "Look, the last time we went anywhere close to this long without talking was when I gave up being a hero. When my speed's gone completely, I'm not gonna be able to be a superhero anymore. Am I gonna lose my best friend, too?"
"What? No!" Dick's eyes went wide. He'd never thought for even a moment that Wally would think that, not ever. "Of course not!"
"Don't say that like it's supposed to be obvious, dude," Wally pushed his shredded pastry aside and crossed his arms. "You said it yourself, the last time we hung out was over six months ago."
"That doesn't mean I'm not your best friend anymore," said Dick, desperately. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
"Not seeing someone for six months, and barely talking to them?" said Wally. He wasn't looking at Dick anymore, focusing instead on the floor. "Yeah, dude, it kinda does."
"Wally, KF, just listen," Dick said, quick and panicked. "None of that is your fault, I swear. It's just, I..."
"You're busy," said Wally. "Look, okay, fine. I get it." He stood, shook his head, and headed for the door. "See you."
"No!" Dick grabbed his arm as he passed, stopping him. "That's not-- I--" He stammered unintelligibly, then pulled Wally in and kissed him. Wally shoved him back after only a moment, and he thought his heart would stop altogether.
"Dude," he said, eyes wide. "If this is because of what I did last night..."
"It's not, I swear," said Dick, still holding Wally by the wrist. "You wanna know why I've barely been able to talk to you lately? Yeah, I've been busy, but I've also been in love with you since I was 12, and finally couldn't stand it anymore."
Wally stared at him.
"After my birthday," he said, quietly. "After you stayed over for that whole long weekend and we just got to hang out, I just. I liked having you here too much. But then you started seeing that hairstylist--"
"Nicole? We went on like four dates!" Wally tried to interrupt, but Dick didn't let him.
"Anyway, then I started dating Kory, and it was a new year, and..." He shrugged, and dropped Wally's hand. "I kinda made it my resolution to finally, finally get over you."
"...So what happened?"
"It didn't work," said Dick, slumping back against the wall and looking down at the floor. "I thought it had, but even Kory could tell I didn't love her as much as I love you. I wanted to, but..." He sighed.
"So, all that time we were," Wally filled in the blank with a crude hand gesture, "when we were kids, you were in love with me?"
"I didn't realize it at the time," said Dick. "Not until you left the team. But yeah. I was." He paused then and looked up at Wally, suddenly looking stricken. "God, Wally, I'm sorry. I'm being a selfish jerk, you have enough to deal with right now, you don't need--"
Wally kissed him.
Dick didn't respond at first, shocked still. But when Wally didn't let up, he carefully put his hand on Wally's arm, so lightly it was as if he was afraid he would break or vanish. Wally responded by pushing him up against the wall and pushing his tongue into Dick's mouth. Dick made a tiny, broken sound, and wrapped his arms more tightly around him.
They kissed, frantic and clinging to each other, until Wally finally pulled back with a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead to Dick's.
"This," said Wally, quiet and breathless. "This is what I need. I need my best friend."
"Wally," he said, softly. He licked his lips, and he could taste the faint sweetness from the bits of pastry Wally had eaten. He took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't call you the minute Bruce told me. Hell, I'm sorry Bruce had to be the one to tell me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Don't," said Wally. "You don't have to apologize."
"Yes, I do," Dick insisted, raising his voice from the soft whisper it had been. "I've been a jerk, and now I'm giving you my problems to deal with on top of everything else."
Wally frowned and pulled back a few inches. "If I thought this was a problem I had to 'deal with'," he said, "I wouldn't have kissed you. And I probably wouldn't have tried to blow you last night."
Dick narrowed his eyes. "I thought you didn't remember."
"Er," said Wally, as he went pink across his cheeks. He was still close enough that Dick could see his freckles fade into the blush. "Stuff is starting to come back. Unfortunately."
Dick couldn't help grinning a little. "Does that mean I can tease you about your really awful pick up line?"
"'Breathalyze me' does not count as a pick up line!" Wally insisted.
Dick laughed, more honestly and loudly than he had in months.
Wally grinned and rolled his eyes. "You're awful," he said, and interrupted Dick's laughter with another kiss, much more quick and chaste than the last one.
When they broke apart again, Dick was smiling softly. "I am sorry," he said, with every bit of sincerity he could muster. "I'm sorry you ever thought I'd give you up, for anything."
Wally flushed red again and looked away. "I love you too," he said, so quietly Dick almost didn't hear him. "I think that's why I wound up here, last night. I needed to know I hadn't lost you."
"I'm not going anywhere if you're not," said Dick.
"I'm not in any hurry," Wally answered, and Dick didn't miss the self-deprecating tone behind it. He frowned, and kissed him again, before pushing off the wall and taking Wally's hand, tugging him into the living room.
Wally grinned. "Gonna pick up from where we left off last night?" he asked as Dick pushed him back onto the couch, and Dick felt something flutter in his stomach or his chest or both at the hopeful tone in his voice.
"No," he said. "We're gonna pick up where we left off six months ago." He snagged the television remote and two XBox controllers and settled on the couch next to his best friend, so close their arms and thighs were pressed against each other.
Wally laughed and took the controller, but looked away as Dick switched the TV on.
"What?" asked Dick. "Not looking forward to getting your butt kicked?"
"Like that's ever going to happen," Wally retorted quickly. "It's just... Six months ago, I still had my speed."
"Wally, no, that doesn't--" Dick just barely stopped himself before he put his foot in his mouth. "I'm not your best friend because you're fast, and I'm definitely not in love with you because of it. And hey, we made it through the last time you stopped heroing."
"Barely," Wally muttered.
"My point is," Dick continued, "you're stuck with me. No matter what."
"Oh," said Wally, and Dick could already tell he wasn't going to get tired of seeing Wally smile like that any time soon.
--
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."
At the sound of Wally's voice, Dick's eyes fluttered open. He yawned and glanced past his boyfriend's grinning face to look at the clock beside their bed.
"Walls, it's still early," he said, burying his face in his pillow.
"I wanted to give you your present before we have to get going," said Wally, and Dick felt his lips against his bare shoulder.
"Right, your thing is today," Dick mumbled into the pillow.
"'Thing', he says." Wally laughed. "Yeah, that thing where I'm getting tested to see if my speed is back up to the Justice League's standards for me to be safe for field work again. No big deal or anything."
"Didn't mean it like that, dude..." Dick yawned again, accidentally closing his mouth around the pillowcase. He rolled over again and ran his hand down Wally's arm. "You know I'll be excited for you just as soon as I'm awake."
"Uh-huh," Wally said, rolling his eyes.
He clearly couldn't keep the grin off his face, though, and Dick couldn't blame him. Three months ago, Barry had, with help of the WayneTech facilities Dick had convinced Bruce to loan him, finally cracked the key to accessing what he was calling the "Speed Force". Wally's speed had all but completely disappeared by then. But following Dick's numerous suggestions, he had eventually found a place working with Barbara (or Oracle, as she was calling herself these days) as support for the team and sometimes even the League. But with Barry's work complete, they'd finally found a means of restoring Wally's powers.
It hadn't been easy. The first weeks following his "treatment", Wally was still only hitting speeds of Olympic athletes, and feeling intense pain for his efforts. But weeks turned into months, and however ironic the slowness of his recovery, Wally's speed was returning, and the pain was disappearing. A week ago, he'd even vibrated his hand through a piece of wood. The fact that the wood had then exploded was, apparently, only a concern to people not Wally.
Dick was pulled from his half-awake recollection of the last few months by Wally kissing his way down his chest. He laughed and squirmed. "Hmmm, is this my present?"
"If you think you're awake enough for it," said Wally, grinning up at him.
"Oh, I'm always awake enough to administer breathalyzer tests," Dick said.
Wally groaned and buried his face against Dick's stomach. "It's been months, dude! Let it die already!"
"Never," Dick cackled, and Wally had to silence him with a kiss.
They were a half an hour late for Wally's test, and Dick was acutely aware of the fact that his collar didn't cover the "happy birthday" hickey Wally had given him. But when he watched Wally breeze through the obstacle course Barry had set up for him, and saw the approving gazes of the League as they watched, he found he was too happy to care.