asgardmeridiem | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Wally West (

performance)
What: best friends being gross and best friend-y
When: May 27th
Where: Heimdall House & wherever else they go
Rating: PG-13 at worst

By Wally's reckoning, it's Dick's birthday. He knows that the seasons and the calendars are different here; hell, he's even come to begrudgingly accept that they could've been abducted from completely different times without the other person even knowing. He was still working on an explanation for that one, but didn't let himself lose sleep at night over it.

That didn't erase the fact that for Wally, it's Dick's birthday, and it didn't change the fact that every kid deserved cake on their birthday. And if Dick didn't agree it was his birthday, well, then he gets free cake anyway and who would say no to that?

More than that, Wally had noticed Dick doing that "withdrawing from sunlight and social interaction" thing he always does when there's a mystery troubling him. On top of all the weird bullshit going on in the city, the screaming and crying and everyone around them moaning about the end of times and one guy insisting that his entire universe was dead- no. It isn't true. It's not true, because the League wouldn't let their world end. ...it's probably way too much to hope that Dick didn't see that network post, though.

Still, Wally has the perfect solution to get their minds off of it. Cake, and pretending everything is fine, and being in each other's company. So that's what's on his mind as he balances in his arms two boxes of Dick's favorite kind of cake (because Dick should at least get some of his own cake) on his way over to Dick's room and kicks the door in lieu of knocking.

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Dick's perched on the edge of the bed like a tiny gargoyle poring over network posts when he hears the thump against the door. His eyes go wide. For a minute he fears the worst: he considers smoke bombs and the height of the window and the escape plan he made the day he got here.

Second, he thinks maybe not everyone has a polite butler knock, and maybe he should actually answer it. So he shuts off the screen on his bracelet and gets to his feet, taking a breath to calm his nerves, and opens the door.

"Wally?" he gapes, too surprised to deal with the indignity of being startled like that, and then: "Dude, is that funfetti?"

"'Is it funfetti,' he asks," Wally scoffs as he breezes into Robin's room and deposits one of the boxes into his hands. He takes the other to a nearby table -shoves aside some books that are undoubtedly pilfered from the library- and pops open the box, pulling out two disposable forks. No cake-cutting tools then, pretty obvious what he expects to happen.

The cake he opens has "u loser" scrawled across the white frosting in rainbow letters, which would probably make more sense if he'd opened Robin's cake so he could see the "it's ur b-day" on that one first.

"I had to work all afternoon for these, so you better eat like at least half of that thing." Wally that is impossible for creatures that are not you or your uncle.

Dick almost asks what's the occasion?, until Wally opens the boxes. He laughs at the lovingly scrawled frosting, but something warm unfurls in his chest, and his smile is genuinely touched.

"You remembered?" He's not sure why he's surprised, except maybe that he forgot at first. He doesn't mention that he thinks his birthday might have been days or weeks ago — that just begs questions that he isn't ready to talk about yet, and would make Wally feel bad, besides.

He runs a hand through his hair, then takes a fork.

"Dude. I was counting down." He actually was, too; Robin's birthday is exactly twenty days after his and he showed up here the day after his birthday, thus today is Robin's birthday. ...or it is for him anyway.

Wally sits on the edge of Robin's bed and shoves his own fork into the other cake to start decimating it. "I mean," he starts after shoving an impressive bite into his mouth, "it might be a different day for you, I dunno. I guess I never got the down-low on exactly when you're from, huh?" Just saying it like that makes Wally cringe but he can't even implausibly deny the possibility of time travel anymore, so he just begrudgingly accepts it. "What day was it back home before you showed up?"

Dick stops midway through a forkful of cake that's about 75% frosting. (What can he say? He likes the sprinkles.) He hadn't expected Wally to even be open to the possibility — honestly, Dick was barely okay with it. It's less the idea of time travel, and more the idea of being somehow out of sync with his best friend that gets to him.

"The 23rd," he says, at last. "Of November." And he takes a bite of the cake.

"Oh." Wally had prepared himself for the possibility, but really it's...not as drastic a difference as he was expecting. He'd heard horror stories from other people showing up with years apart from their friends, and things like not even noticing the other people are gone despite the time difference. They could've been replaced with clones, sure, but what about the ones who claim to go back and then get yanked again? There's some advanced string theory time-bending physics going on here, seriously.

Either way, everyone in the city couldn't be lying, it just wasn't possible. "So, I guess I didn't go missing the day after my birthday, huh?" Wally begins sawing a chunk of cake out for him to just grab and scarf down.

Dick shakes his head. "I'd tell you if you had, dude."

It's hard to wrap his brain around, because— what does that mean for the two of them? If he goes back, will Wally remember any of this? Will he? "Kind of wishing I'd studied some theoretical physics now," he admits.

"Quantum mechanics," Wally says around his new mouthful. He sucks frosting off his fingers. "But there's still no theoretical models for time travel involving quantum physics because we can't even find the equations we need, so general relativity's still our best bet to try and hash this out. Even that's a stretch, though."

Wally shrugs and abandons his fork in favor of just breaking off pieces of cake to eat. "Einstein-Rosen bridge, maybe?"

"Would that account for the two of us being from different times?" Dick muses, tapping his fork against his lips. "And if you're from a timeline where you came here after your birthday, but I'm not..."

"Dude, I got no idea. I just read up a little on it before. But y'know, I'm not expecting them to let us remember all this when we go back. I figure they'll probably-" Wally crooks his index finger like he's holding a spray bottle, "chsh chsh, Windex our brains and make us forget."

why are they talking about this shit, he was supposed to take robin's attention off of this crap

"Anyway, dude, have you seen the babe ratio in this city? All the girls are so cute!"

Somehow, the sudden whiplash between brainwashing and alternate universes and hey, cute girls doesn't make Dick feel much better. Go figure. Wally's priorities are sometimes a mystery to him.

"Seriously, dude? That's supposed to— no, never mind. Why am I surprised?" He sighs, rubbing at the spot between his eyebrows, before taking another bite of cake.

Wally stabs his fork into the cake for safe keeping. Okay, so the transition was rough but the purpose was clear. Right? "Dude? How many times have you gone outside for something other than work?"

"Not for girls," he mutters. It's a little uncharitable, maybe, considering the fact that Wally had come over just to cheer him up, and he knows that. But the alternative is answering the question for real, and that means admitting that he's been stuck inside compiling notebooks full of information about this place instead of going out and talking to people, and that isn't exactly flattering.

That's cool, Wally can read between the lines. "What about for food that isn't reheated chicken nuggets? Or like, fresh air and sunshine? 'Cause I hear that stuff is important too."

He hesitates, knowing the next one is a touchy subject but also knowing it should be addressed. "Have you thought any more about testing your powers?"

"I'm eating cake now," he says, which is all the answer that Wally really needs and he knows it. Dick can admit when he's being too reclusive. He just doesn't like it.

Dick shrugs stiffly in response to Wally's second question, dragging the tip of his fork in idle patterns across a corner of the frosting. "It's complicated," he answers. He still doesn't like the idea of someone getting hurt just so he can try to fix them. What if it doesn't work? Or— what if it does? He's still responsible for someone else's pain, then, isn't he?

"Not that complicated." Wally actually sets his cake aside so he can sit proper on the bed, elbows on his knees, and face Dick. "You know if your powers work, you don't have to use them, right? I'd kinda prefer you didn't." It would be different if Robin had something like super strength or energy blasts or something like that. A power like siphoning off wounds, or pain? Yeah. Wally's cool with nobody having that power.

"You know it's not like that," Dick replies matter-of-factly. "I have to help people. However I can, and whatever that takes. I'd be stupid not to use it."

He pulls his feet up into the chair, heels resting on the edge, and gives Wally a long, considering look over his knees. "Are you worried?"

"Yeah."

Wally rubs his nose and looks away. "'Cause I know you."

Oh. That hits home a little too hard. Dick tries not to let it show, but his eyebrow twitches, and the corner of his mouth flicks down.

"We put our lives on the line every day," he says, after a moment. "I don't see how this puts me in any more danger."

"It's different. We go out there knowing we could get hurt, and we go out there knowing that we'd take a bullet for the other guy if we had to. But we don't go out planning to get hurt or die in each other's place."

Wally doesn't know how that's different, but it feels different. He leans forward and scrubs his face with his hands. "I don't wanna fight with you," he mutters into his hands. Not here. Not when it's just them, no families, no friends, nothing.

"I don't either," Dick says. He sounds weary, like he's been mulling this over for who knows how long.

"And... look, I'm glad you're concerned, I guess." He can admit that much. Under other circumstances, it might feel too cloying, like he's being thought of as a kid. But with no one else around, it's... it's good to know there's at least one person who cares if he lives or dies.

"I still think you should test it first. With me, with like, a paper cut or whatever. Better than making your first go a guy with his arm cut off or a spear in his chest." Wally grabs the cake back up and scoops up a mouthful. Yeah, he's probably hovering too much, but he's maybe avoiding a few things too.

Dick considers Wally's words for a long moment. It should be the best option, testing it with Wally when they're both safe instead of letting a civilian get injured and trying it out in the thick of things. But the idea sits all wrong in his stomach in a way he isn't sure how to put words to.

He lets out a quick breath, an almost rueful laugh. Now who's being overprotective? "So, what," he says, "let you stub your toe or something and see if I can make it better?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Wally grins at dick and some crumbs fall out of his mouth onto the bedspread. Sorry bro. "You know me, I can handle it. Heck, hang around me for a day and I'll get hurt all on my own doing something stupid."

Dick sighs long-sufferingly at Wally making a mess of his neatly-kept bed, but doesn't say anything. Such is the life of a speedster's best friend. "Okay," he says, and takes another bite of cake as a gesture of solidarity. "Okay. We'll start off small. No limb loss on day one."