Blink and you'll remember.

flurry of movement; heat and smoke from open, metal grid floor vents; glow-highlights tingeing the ends of dark, soft hair

Wally's bangs drip lightly against the tip of his nose. His head tilts forward. His naked back settles against the outside of cool-feeling porcelain. Green beneath eyelashes heavy with water droplets.

The foamy water inside the bathtub sloshes. Dick's head tilts sluggishly back into the tub's lip. Arms and legs with milky tan skin, rippled with scars and speckled with bruises, float listless.

—black Nomex and yellow leather; a zip-line twangs secured in Dick's gauntlets; flashes of hot white and orange and -BURNING- against their eyes; fingers clench urgently around Wally's wrist


It sounds thickened and scrambled together for a moment but it registers that Dick was addressing him.

Accidentally… in French…?

A few words Wally can make out- sommes, vous- cue him.

Dick pauses, seeming to gather his thoughts, and tries again in English, less thick but no less emotion.

—a grin spread across his lips; Wally feels the contagion of that alluring thrill, the stretching of a gloriously wide smile as they swoop through the air; the fire from the explosion at their heels

"Do you remember laughing when we died?"

The view of the open-air bathroom chokes with steam. Wally's heavy eyelashes squeeze over his eyes.

Blink and you'll remember everything.

Dick's hand slips first from the handle of the zip-line; a flutter of pale yellow engulfed by the hot white and orange and -BURNING- against Wally's eyes; shaky laughter that tremors from existence

"Can we not talk about this?" Wally's voice rises to a semi-hysterical pitch. He slides away on his hands and bony ass from the bathtub. Foamy, lukewarm water spills against ceramic floor tiles and Dick kneels up in it, dripping and naked. His pruney, damp hands clasp onto Wally's arms when the speedster climbs to his feet. Dick's fingers apply soft pressure to the insides of freckled elbows.

"It didn't just scare you, Wal."

Dick's lips settle to a straight line, teeth concealed.

"What am I supposed to be acting like? How can I want to follow in Batman's footsteps when a fake scenario messes with my head like this…?"

A hiccup escapes him, half of a giggle, half of a sob.

"I'm broken, man."

At the raspy, breathy confession, the smoothed pads of Wally's thumbs etch the new wet streaks down the slope of Dick's cheeks, pushing them away.

"Naw, it's just a leak," Wally quips, feeling no less confident in his sensibility, and hides it with mock-humor when Dick buries his face—screwing up tightly—into the older boy's shoulder, "Happens to the best of us, alright?" He doesn't attempt to leave Dick's slippery arms tucking to him, and Wally inhales the scent of bland shampoo in dark, soft hair when his nose touches the crown of it.

Dick's voice, muffled against Wally's skin, sounds dubious. "We're really here, right…?"

"We're really here," Wally repeats to him, mouthing Dick's hair.

The thinner, sinewy arms around Wally relax somewhat.


Wally's hand weighs down, pressing comfortingly to the center of Dick's back.

his throat closes up completely when the hot, black smoke enters his nostrils; Wally's yellow leather glove clenches hard to his own handle before releasing completely

You'll remember.


An early Christmas gift for missmelon12. Request prompt: "Dick/Wally. Post Failsafe. Dick feels guilt."