012. Want



What would a normal hot-blooded American man do… when a black high heel pushes against the side of his face, turning him to face the object of his attention… a gorgeous, masked dancer?

The mask is a little strange, admittedly.

None of the other girls or "dancers" at the strip club usually bother to hide their faces. This kind of work doesn't necessitate shame. Or modesty.

As far as the twenty-year-old Wally West knows. He likes to think he knows the strip club scene. Very well.

But that's a story for another time.

The lean (did he mention gorgeous) dancer with the high heel on his cheek starts mouthing the lyrics to the next techno-beat song. "I know you want me," those pale, shine-glossed lips indicate, a slip of a pink tongue peeking out between those tasty lips, "Obvious that I want you too…"

Wally focuses on that mask again and the eyes that veiled away from sight. The mask is black except for red metal trimmings around the eyes. What they called 'a half mask' that only covers the top half of the nose and around the cut-open holes of eyes.

It looks like costume details straight out of that ballroom scene from that Jim Henson movie "Labyrinth"… … did anyone remember that movie…?

The high heel moves away.

"Am I boring you?" his dancer asks over the pounding of the music.

He blinks. Wally shakes his head, his ears flushing discomfited. "… Sorry—er, I mean… no."

"S'alright." He leans over a bit, smirking—yes, the dancer is male, and that's accident as far as hes concerned— "Call me Robin… it's my stage name."

"Yeah, 'cause of the red shirt and the insignia…" Wally then laughed. "… got it."

"Can't really call it a shirt, can you?" To prove his point, Robin spins around a moment, looking down at himself on the platform's stage.

Indeed he's right. The shirt is cut off at the waist, arcing into an upside-down V almost to his ribcage. The short sleeves black and mesh. The back made entirely of red mesh.

And Wally noticed it before, but a small loop of silver flashes on Robin's belly button.


Somewhere off stage, a burly man starts shouting angrily in their direction.

Robin's glossed mouth twists up. "Spending too much time with patrons again. Wonder how much I'll be deducted this time for talking." He glances back down at Wally pensively. "… Are you sticking around?"

"Um…" He lost Conner and Artemis somewhere in the crowd. Probably at the bar.

Artemis must have been pissed that she had been invited to a surprise "Ladies Night" and robbed of her first strip club experience with hot women. And that story about learning she is a lesbian was… just. He didn't want to go there again. Not even in his head.

"You should stick around," Robin then adds gleefully, and if Wally didn't know any better he might have mistaken him for being much younger than eighteen (wouldn't THAT suck), smirking wider, "… what is that saying…?… 'All good things come to those who wait'…?"

"I'll consider it."

"I hope so. For a ginger, you're kind of adorable. But like in a dorky kind of way."

"Heh…" A little dreamy-eyed, Wally watches him return to the bigger platform with the rest of the 'dancers' for that night. Robin's black, silky gloves and that shimmery ass in short-shorts grinds against one of the free poles as the ravenous women and a few men crowd and drool.

He then lets the ginger comment sink in, snubbed.

"… … —hey!"



This night is turning out to be… interesting. In a non-generalized way. Well, mostly the night is interesting in the way it turned from 'oh-god-help-me-where-were-the-half-naked-women' to 'I-think-a-random-masked-and-pretty-stripper-guy-was-flirting-with-me-and-I-was-flirting-back-is-this-bad'.

Speaking of… Wally hadn't seen "Robin" on the bigger stage platform or any of the side platforms in a good hour or so. Maybe more.

In the gyrating sea of well-oiled and faked-baked bicep muscles, he had been swallowed up in chaos of everything and disappeared, despite how colorful his mesh outfit had been. Like a freaking ninja… maybe Robin had been part ninja or something… wait, did ninjas wear mesh?..

Before he could rack his brain for that answer, Wally's eyes drift over vaguely to another "dancer" on a small, round platform on the far left, a hand wrapped solidly a the silver-shined pole.

He wears a skin-tight pleather bodysuit, as dark as his wide-set eyes, and a glittery, steel-colored headband holds his long, black bangs from his forehead. His asymmetrical maroon-colored scarf dangling around his neck also dangles out of the reaches of one or two eager women who call out drunkenly to him and flash some cash.

"That's Wiccan. He's really popular during Ladies Night." Wally glances over to the speaker who settles in a plushy chair next to his, elbows propped to crusty tabletop. "He's got a way of pulling people in without saying much," he says, chuckling, his boyish-looking face partly obscured by the very tinted aviator sunglasses (the club was dark enough wasn't it sheesh).

"That's… okay, sure," Wally replies, confused, sipping his half glass of Jack Daniels and nasty-tasting ice. Lord, it's not worth the price.

"Kind of a love spell? Geddit?" Robin's smile is ridiculously wide and Wally has to snort aloud.

Magic. Please. Name it and he can probably find fifteen different ways to disprove it.

And… wait… Robin?

"…But god forbid anyone try something… his boyfriend Teddy is a big guy… and super possessive…" Ignoring the outright shocked expression on the redhead, Robin's face turns to Wally, his elbows sliding away. He points out seriously, tugging slightly on his green hoodie and black jacket, "So you decide to stay."

"Uh…" Words. "… my friends are still—"

A shrill cry from behind him. Wally's spine stiffens in place. "There you are, you bastard…!"


Oh shit.

Artemis grabs the back of his collar and pulls hard, her teeth baring in an angry scowl— Wally flails in panic as his air circulation gets cut off forcefully and painfully—she grounds out, "This is crap, Wallace. There's men everywhere here. What the hell did you drag me to? What are you on?"

"Arty…!" he chokes out, managing to yank out of her death grip on him, and glaring.

She returns it silently, crossing her arms huffily and her dark blue eyes cut over to Robin who giggles behind his hand at them.

"… I could get why you wanted to come to dick night. I've had my suspicions, but robbing cradles now too, Wally? You are truly one sick fuck."

"Hey!" Robin frowns up at her, eyes narrowing behind the sunglasses, and Wally feels like smacking his head on his table. Repeatedly. Even with the questionable crusties.

"For the love of… Arty, I'm not uurk STOP DOING THAT! we're all adults here and I just met him tonight so will you chill," he says, standing and lowering his voice, "… And where the hell is Conner?"

"Probably got bored and went home."

"What do you mean he got bored? I mean… I get if he's straight…"

"He's asexual so I'm surprised he came with us in the first place," Artemis says offhandedly.

"…He's what? Asexual?"


Wally blinks slowly.

"WHY does no one ever tell me these things?!"

He groans, slapping a hand over his forehead, sinking back into his chair as Artemis rolls her eyes at him and Robin stares at them blankly.

"… Is everything okay here?"

A cute waitress in a little white dress and black apron approaches their table, seeming concerned, a little, freckled finger twirling into a curl of red hair. Artemis's expression lifts.

Robin smiles at her cheerfully. "Everything's good, Megann," he tells her and shrugs.

"Okay." She smiles back relieved, glancing at the other woman and blushing a little when Artemis licks her lips absently. "I'll… go back to serving."

"That's Megann. She's just been hired," Robin informs Artemis who ogles after her skirt as she walks away. "It's her third night here. Whatever she lacks in service skills she makes up in enthusiasm." His cheer fades a little as the sounds of dropped glasses rings out and apologetic squeaking. "… yeah."

Artemis grins wolfishly.

"…Hello Megann~"

She adjusted her breasts in her low-cut top before vanishing, bending down to help the cute redhead waitress picking up the broken glass.

"Oh jeez…" Wally turned back to the platforms. "I feel sorry for her."

"Is this 'Arty' trouble or something?"

"No. She just likes girls." Really, really liked them. ARRGH… brain… we're not flashbacking.

Robin shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets.

"Megann can handle herself in any case. When it had to come to it, I've seen her take out three scumbags about two and a half times her size." At Wally's disbelieving look, he nods in confirmation.


"So…" Robin suddenly leans forward in his plum-colored, plushy chair, almost nose-to-nose with Wally. His breath smells extra sweet… like… fruity gum. "… Are you free tonight?"



Wally knows he wanted to tell Artemis he wasn't gay. It's harder to believe that when he goes on a date, ordering mocha frappuccinos and walking under the high-beam streetlamps, nudging into Robin's shoulder and feeling okay.

Like he's not goddamn miserable for once in Wally's damn life.

That… that doesn't happen.

They're inside a hotel room when Robin swears he's not a prostitute, before saddling Wally and unzipping Wally's pants, touching his fingertips hesitantly over Wally's dick responding to him.

Something about the jolting, pleasant sensation makes Wally plunge his tongue into Robin's mouth, licking past his molars and eventually sucking a harsh, noisy kiss to his jaw. Robin's eyes are blue — clear and stunning, young.

They don't exactly talk about what they want, and not through this hot and heavy session. Wally crawls over to on the quilt, positioning his cockhead directly in Robin's astonished face below him, spurting a round of hot, gooey come onto his lips and chin and nose. After a moment, there's a rowdy burst of giggles and Robin makes a show of licking off his lips, gazing into Wally's eyes with bland, smiling fondness.

"I turned sixteen last week," Robin admits lowly, an hour later, smiling goofily when Wally flushes and slaps his own hands over his face mortified. A little, slimy spot of Wally's come dries on Robin's lashes. "And… … my dad is Bruce Wayne."

Oh god. Wally might be gay and vanished in a black bag.

"Don't worry, he won't know," Dick Grayson reassures him, curling up naked to Wally's torso.

That's something to consider.



Young Justice isn't mine. This is another fic kinda back from 2011 that I got to rework and actually publish outside Livejournal. Mostly full of humor and PWP. I had a longer idea for this AU with Dick actually being undercover in the strip club to get the dirt/evidence on a Bad Guy running the joint, but idk, I never got to fully play with the idea like I wanted and ended up doing other projects. Anyway I've missed Birdflash and I hope yall enjoyed! Comments/thoughts always appreciated!