Chapter Text
Wally groans, head pounding. God, what happened? He looks around, no team members to be found. Did it work? Did they save the world? A few hard blinks later, he surveys the area and notes no signs of damage. Hm. He gets up to rush towards a nearby mountain, only to find it takes much longer than he'd expected. He cocks his head in confusion, theory already formulating in his head. He tests this by running back to where he'd disappeared. Again, he's slow. Almost like he was before he got his po-- Oh.
Shit. He's lost his edge. Or well, speed. This could be a predicament. How the hell is he supposed to get from the arctic back to Connecticut? Another surveying of the area reveals a pile of clothes half-buried in the snow. That's a start.
He arrives in Hartford, feeling like it'd be a good place to start. God knows how many months he's been gone, things are bound to have changed in that time. It makes him wonder how the team is — what happened to Artemis? Is she happy? What about Dick? Knowing him, he's probably closed himself off, which is never good. Wally resolves to fix that first.
After gathering a fair amount of intel, he determines that Dick has moved back to his old place in new haven. When he arrives, his stomach drops as he recalls that Dick has never been the type to keep a key in a pot or under a mat (he blames this on Batman). How is he going to get in? He leans closer to the door — inspecting it closely — only to nearly fall on his ass as a robotic voice starts up.
"Scanning..." A bright green light flashes in his eyes and he clamps them shut in surprise before the voice starts up again. "Please keep eyes open while scanning." Quirking a brow, he opens them, now prepared for the light. "Scanning... Recognized: Wally West. " His mouth drops open as he hears a clicking noise and the door slides open. Well, how's about that?
After quickly checking for any sign of tomfoolery, he passes the threshold and heads for the fridge. Hey, he'd traveled a lot in the past few months; a guy's gotta eat. Once he'd retrieved a stick of beef jerky, he pokes around the apartment. It doesn't seem like Dick is around right now, so he shrugs and figures he'll wait up for him.
The couch is comfortable and his aching muscles appreciate the reprieve. He's sat there maybe an hour when he hears the telltale sounds of the door-robot scanning someone. Wally sits up, eagerly waiting the opening of the door. God, he'd nearly forgotten how lonely he was but now that the prospect of seeing his best friend again is so tantalizingly close, it hits him hard.
As the door clicks open, he comes face-to-face with a weary-looking Dick Grayson. Who is currently wearing a look of shock. Whoops. There's a long moment of silence, both of them locked in an impromptu staring contest. Wally's never been good with silence.
"Hey," his voice cracks halfway through the word, but he feels it adequate. What else can you say to someone who thought you were dead? A vulnerable expression flashes across Dick's (masked) face for a moment before it hardens. Wally's danger signals are going wild, but this is Dick; Dick wouldn't hurt him.
He's pinned down to the ground in seconds, arms twisted painfully behind his back. Honestly, he should have seen that coming. Dick looms over him and it's times like these when he's reminded of how gentle Dick usually is with him, considering the strength he holds.
"Who are you?" Wally quirks a brow at him — well, as best he can when his face is half-squished by the carpet he's being pressed into.
"...Wally West?"
"Bullshit." Wally sighs.
"And why is that, Mr. Grayson?" Dick scrunches up his face at the name as if personally offended.
"Wally West died in an accident three months ago."
"Or did he?" If Wally could do fingerguns in his current position, he would. Dick looks more unamused by the second and presses harder, causing his arms to creak in pain. "Ow ow ow, stop, please! I'm sorry, I'll stop joking around, just let me explain."
He's silent for a moment, seeming to consider him. Wally thinks he's screwed but then Dick bites out, "Fine, but make it quick."
"Okay so, the accident thing? Didn't happen. Well, I mean it did — technically — but I didn't die because of it," Dick blinks at him, disinterested. "What happened is that I disappeared for a short period of time. I'm not sure how long, it was kinda like being temporarily dead."
"Likely story." Dick's words are harsh, but something has softened in his expression.
"Anyway, Mr. Grumpy Pants, I survived and no one was there so I had to trek my way back from the goddamn arctic and I'm very tired and really not appreciating the hostility."
"You'll forgive me if I can't believe you," Wally groans in frustration. What is he even supposed to do to make Dick trust him? He's mulling over what to say when Dick continues, "Plus, if you were truly Wally, you wouldn't take so long to get here."
"Yeah, uh, see, that's the thing, I may have survived but other parts of me... did not." Dick's frown deepens. On second thought, probably wasn't the best thing to say if he wants to win Dick's trust. "Listen, okay? I know how I can prove to you I'm the real Wally."
"Then prove it."
"Okay, so, do you remember when we were kids and I was over at the manor. You invited me over, of course, but anyway... I was showing off — as usual — and I ran into that pillar with the vase from Egypt, I think it was? And it smashed into tiny pieces and Bats found out and got really angry, but because I was the "guest" in this situation, he took it out on you and you wouldn't talk to me for like, a week, because you were mad at me?" Dick's eyes widened as he took in the words, his frown dissipating.
"I.. I never told that to anyone, how did you...?"
"Because I was there, little bird," Dick's breath hitches at the mention of his old nickname and his tight hold loosens, allowing Wally to wriggle out from under him. Wally crouches in front of him. "See? It's me." Dick looks down at the ground as if searching for something before his head whips up to meet his gaze. Tension melts out of his shoulders as he sways forward towards Wally, the information hitting him hard.
Wally takes it as an opportunity to wrap his arms around him, holding him close. Dick lays helplessly in his arms for a long stretch of time before his brain seems to reboot itself, hands quickly finding their way into the fabric at the back of Wally's shirt. He clutches at his shirt like he was a drowning man, squeezing him tightly.
"Wally," there's a wobble to his voice.
"It's me, buddy," He hears Dick take in a breath and exhale shakily, leaning further into the embrace. Mumbled words could be heard from him — and though Wally couldn't make them out, he could tell that Dick was trying to reassure himself this wasn't a dream. The words were soon muffled as he pressed his face into Wally's shoulder and let out a choked sob before devolving into a blubbering, snuffly mess.
Dick pulls back after his sobs die down to the occasional sniffle and he tugs at his mask, eventually prying it free. His glassy blue eyes are on show now, red around the edges from strain. Crying in a mask cannot be easy, Wally reasons, before he raises his hand to swipe the pad of his thumb across Dick's cheek, clearing the tear tracks that had gathered there. He lays his hand on Dick's forearm, rubbing it gently in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. They remain like that for a while before Dick starts coughing and clearing his throat.
Wally understands the wordless request and quickly gets him a glass of water. As he slips it into his hands, Dick utters a soft 'thank you' before taking a sip.
"You alright, man?"
"My best friend who was presumed dead for three months suddenly came back from the dead, what do you think?" Wally visibly winces.
"Good point," Dick just rolls his eyes at him fondly before looking down at his legs, not seeming to focus on anything physical. His leg jiggles at a rapid pace and his brows scrunch together — a sign of deep thought. "What's up?" Dick looks up at him.
"Nothing," Dick replies too quickly, then at Wally's disbelieving look, sighs and gives in, "Okay, fine. I was just thinking about how we need to tell the team as soon as possible. Not sure what the best method would be," Wally hums in reply.
"How are they, by the way?" Dick seems to consider his answer.
"They're... They've been better."
"That's ominous."
"What do you expect? These past few months haven't exactly been easy, Walls," Wally's shoulders slump with the weight of guilt.
"I'm sorry," he replies in a soft, fragile tone.
"Hey," Dick lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes once, "it's not your fault. I just didn't want to lie to you and say we've been okay when that's so far from the truth."
"Yeah, no, I know, I appreciate it. Sorry, it's just all hitting me now, I guess," Dick flashes him a sad smile.
"I think it's best if we just... take it slow for now. You can meet with the team tomorrow. God knows you need the rest."
"Are you telling me I look like shit? Rude."
"I never was a good liar."
"That's bullshit and you know it," Dick just grins at him, and it takes him back to simpler times — when they were just Robin and Kid Flash, when Dick would disappear out of nowhere with the sound of his laughter left in his place. He watches as Dick stands up and flops back onto the couch and follows suit, seating himself beside him. "So, uh... Anything changed?" he asks, absently tapping a beat against his leg with his fingers.
"Well, Impulse is Kid Flash now," Dick starts, prompting Wally to do a double-take.
"Wait, what?! That little shit!" Though he sounds offended, there's no venom behind the words. Mr. Traitor over here has started cackling softly.
His laughter dies down and he hums in thought, a smile playing on his lips, "He and Blue have been getting along," There's an insinuation behind those words, but he can't put his finger on what it is. Dick seems to notice his look of confusion, because he tacks on, "They're dating."
"What?!" Wally just about falls off the couch.
"Yeah, happened soon after you were gone. Actually, a lot of relationships changed," the words hit him like a punch to the gut, his mind filling with images of blonde hair and smirks that lead up to brown eyes, frowns on unamused faces, quivers slung over shoulders. Dick smiles at him sympathetically — figuring out where his mind has gone — before he continues, "Yeah, also Cassie and Tim are a thing now. That, and M'gann broke up with Conner."
"Wait, I thought she was with La'gaan?"
"Nah, they broke up, then she got with Conner again, then she broke up with him again. I'm guessing because she needed to figure her own stuff out?"
"I mean, she did always seem to be perpetually dating one person after another."
Dick nods in agreement, "Yeah. Oh, also, I had a thing with Batgirl for a moment there,"
"Batgirl?" Dick shrugs.
"She's nice, smart, attractive, what's not to like?" Wally can't fault him on that, so he shuts his mouth, "I'm pretty sure she and Zatanna have a lil' something-something going on, but they're just dancing around it."
"But I thought she was straight?" Dick lets out a half-snort.
"Yeah, as straight as I am," Wally's eyes widen in surprise and Dick's brain seems to have caught up with his mouth, "Oh. Right, I never told you, did I?"
"You're gay?"
"Bi, actually."
"Oh." Silence stretched on between them, before Wally cleared his throat, "Well, uhm, to be honest, I've always considered myself as bicurious."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Okay, cool."
"Cool."
"So, uhm... It's surprising you didn't bump into the team on the way here,"
"What do you mean?" Of course, Mount Justice had been blown up during that whole thing with Kaldur & Co., but he remembers Dick mentioning plans to move it a couple cities over — in Rhode Island, not Connecticut.
"The base is like... seven blocks away from here,"
"It's what?"
"Seven blocks," Wally blinks at him.
"Huh. Well, how's about that?"
"So... Do you wanna play video games, for old times sake?"
"Only if we play Super Smash Bros Brawl and I get to be Captain Falcon,"
"Fine, I'll just kick your ass as Sheik, no biggie,"
"You're so going down, Wonder Boy,"
"In your dreams, West,"
They finish up 10-8, Wally being a little rusty from the unavailability of any game console lately. Dick does his stupid victory shuffle as Wally pouts.
“Hm, all that ass-kicking has made me peckish.”
“I will kick your ass.“
“Funny, I'm pretty sure that I just kicked your ass not even 3 minutes ago.”
“Being full of yourself isn't considered an attractive trait, y’know,” Dick grins widely in response, “asshole.”
“I prefer Dick actually,” Wally throws the controller at him. Naturally, Dick ducks out of the way, the controller dropping onto a couch cushion. “If you're done pouting, we should get something to eat,” Wally just pouts harder, “What do you wanna eat? Pasta? Salad?”
“I cannot believe you soiled my ears with that word,”
“Fine, Mr. Junk Food Addict, what do you want?”
There's not even a beat before he answers, “Pizza.”
“Pizza it is,” Dick shoots him an amused look over his shoulder as he gets up and waltzes into the kitchen. He sets about getting the ingredients together before pulling out a pizza tray, humming softly to himself.
“Better be pepperoni,”
“Making demands now, are we?” Contrary to his words, he gets out a stick of pepperoni.
After they finish dinner, Wally lets out a yawn.
"Tired?"
"You could say that," Dick considers him for a moment.
"You can crash here," Wally just shrugs, so Dick pulls out the sofa bed and sets it up with a few European-style cushions and a fluffy blanket. He gestures to it, "Ta-da!"
Wally snorts in reply, "You should have gone into interior design."
"Who says I haven't already?"
"I wouldn't put it past you, honestly," Dick smiles fondly at him.
"Anyway, it's been a long day, filled with patrols and my best friend coming back to life, so I think I'm gonna hit the hay."
"G'night, Dick."
"G'night, Walls."
Sometime during the night, Dick finds himself jolting up from his bed like he'd been dunked in a bathtub of ice water. Sweat clings to his skin and his heart beats painfully in his chest. Taking a few deep breaths, he gets flashes of wintery scenery and swears he hears the distant sobbing of a grieving archer. Wally.
Dick swings his legs over the bed and pads out to the living room with a sense of urgency. His body goes lax as he catches sight of unruly red hair sticking up. He's here, it was real, Wally's fine. Repeating it to himself softly like a mantra, he rubs his hand over his face and sighs. There's no way he'd be able to sleep like this.
He stands there and thinks for a while - eyes trained on the messy mop of hair on the sofa bed - before he gives up and drags two blankets and a pillow off his bed and into the living room. He places a blanket on the floor beside Wally and lays atop it with a pillow and the other blanket laid over him. Sleep comes to him easily.