"Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy."

OOC for obvious reasons.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I do not own.

Dick Grayson was a great texter. This was what made him so popular among his friends. Complete sentences with perfect grammar, with the exceptions of when they were talking trash or he was getting word to a super, and a universe of conversations to help you bide your time. He could change your mood in a matter of two texts, and when the two in the morning conversations came along, he always seemed to know just how to handle them; 'we'll get through this', 'you've got me', 'is this really going to matter a few years from now?'.

Except for tonight.

Wally West wasn't a tenth the detective his friend was, but he knew to get suspicious when Dick left two hours for 'dinner' and returned with a jumble to the usual structure of his sentences. A 'the' would be dropped two spaces before it was actually needed, one comma would become three, a there and their would swap; just little things at first.

The first few texts like this, he dismissed as his friend being in a hurry. It wasn't unlike Bruce to keep Dick after dinner for some last minute training or some betterment to his techniques. If that were the case though, his friend usually would mention this. A little, 'Hey, getting some training done. Sorry if this gets a little choppy' with a little smiley face ending it. There hadn't been anything but an apology.

'Everything alright, buddy?' he sent cautiously when his name had suddenly gained a few extra y's.

'Mhm can we meet',' he received in return.

As if that in itself wasn't worrying enough. For a moment, he suspected that Bruce or Alfred may have taken the phone, but he suspected that they would be even more of grammar Nazis than Dick was, with a bit of vocabulary change.

'Sure. You home?'

A look to the clock told him it was a little after nine, meaning the old folk in his house would be making their way up into their respective rooms before long. It wouldn't be hard to slip out the window in a few minutes, or out the front door if he was careful enough. He undid the latches on the window and lifted it, pressing his palms to the screen to see how cold it would be. Not too unpleasant, but gunning it at a faster speed than sound [1] might leave him with more ice than he had flesh.

He settled for a dark blue hoodie to help him blend in with the night, knowing that an entirely black one would be a bit suspicious. He'd worked with the law for long enough to know that much. By the time he had it over his head, his phone went off again and he made his way over to check it.

'No. Abvoe hwy.'

The redhead stared at the text until his phone's back light timed out, switching it back on and giving a little huff.

'Highway?'

He couldn't hope any harder that he was wrong. Scrawling a quick note in his algebra notes in case someone came up to check on him, he signed with the choice codeword that he and Barry had established a few years back and made his way out onto the roof. The only big road he could think of that ran through Gotham was i80. It was his usual route to get up to Wayne Manor. He was just about to turn to Google when he got a response.

'Yea'.

Another quickly followed.

'Broke over pas'.

Emerald eyes narrowed until he decided that he was looking for a broken overpass on any way up by Gotham. Good golly gee, that sure narrowed it down. Wally gave a little huff, scooting to the edge of his roof so his feet hung over the side.

'Which highway?'

A quick glance both ways and he swung his feet before sliding off, cycling his feet in the air so he took off running the moment he skimmed the grass. An accidental trip down a staircase while speeding proved that it was enough to balance the quick weight drop, so his heart never missed a beat. His phone gave a slurred alert and he skidded to a halt outside of one of Central City's many bookstores.

'80'.

Wally gave a little sigh, the worry having his mind a mile back behind him.

'Be there in a few' he sent, tucking his phone as far down in his pocket as it would go before taking off again, making sure to keep his face ducked from the many street cameras.

'A few' ended up being fifteen minutes, what with the late night traffic that always covered i195, but seeing that it would've taken Robin four hours in the least to get to where Wally was, he'd say that he'd made good time. He ended up having to backtrack a bit of the way as he struggled with finding the overpass, but a quick stop at a coffee shop pointed him in the right direction and he slowed to a jog when he recognized the all-dark figure leaning against the railing.

"Dick!" he called, raising his hand in a wave with a little smile.

The ebony had a delayed reaction, turning his head towards the voice slowly. When he recognized the bright hair, his teeth showed largely and he raised his own hand. He took a moment, clinging to the railing as he got to his feet, and as he closed the distance, Wally can tell something's wrong.

The fifteen year old has a stagger and his grin is lopsided when he comes up and nearly collapses onto the speedster as he hugs him. The redhead is overwhelmed with what smells like the bathroom after his mom takes off her nail polish. He hugs back all the same, rubbing the other's shoulder with his thumb before he pulled back.

"You alright?" he asked, figuring it out when he catches the other gaze.

The blue of his friend's eyes was almost completely consumed by his pupils. He felt his heart drop down into his stomach where it was completely consumed.

"M'fine," Dick nodded, taking a step back.

He would've hit the ground if Wally hadn't chosen to grab his arm at the moment he did.

"You're drunk," he accused sourly, eyes narrowing to a painful point when the other didn't deny it. "Goddammit, Dick! You're fifteen!"

The ebony looked down to the hand Wally had on him and gave a little smile, head lolling back around.

"Mhm, ah'know," the last syllable came out in what sounded like a mock howl, disappearing in a fit of little giggles. "Why d'ya think I called you?"

He tipped his head back in a large grin that didn't fit his face and held the other's eyes, shaking his head as Wally's grip tightened.

"Don' ac' all high an' mighty," the ebony's head fell forward and he pushed his free hand against the other's chest. "M'making do."

His head fell forward and the crown held to the other's collarbone before he managed to lift it up again with a blink that seemed to take forever.

"I'm not going to 'make do' with you," Wally clarified, careful in taking his hand off of the other's shoulder. "I'm going to get you home."

Dick shook his head frantically, but his eyes didn't widen until his head stopped shaking.

"No, no, n', n'. Need this," he pleaded, voice dropping as it quit in his throat. "Stay w'me."

Wally stared at him, the anger in his eyes catching the moonlight before he heaved a quiet sigh and nodded.

"I can't leave you here alone, I guess," he gave in, a hand behind the other as they walked over to his previous spot on the bridge to make sure he wouldn't tip over.

Dick gave a happy little whoop and hobbled until he collapsed against the railing again, reaching back and lifting a red-tinted bottle from an edge that must've been out of sight. He offered it and Wally quickly had it on the other side of the overpass. When he returned, Dick's pout outweighed his face.

"Party pooper," he frowned, looking at the other side longingly.

When he seemed to realize the distance, he forgot about it and slumped against the railing again. Wally sat beside him. They sat in a rare silence, just listening to the cars drive by beneath them with the occasional unconscious hum from Dick. Crickets chirped somewhere far off to the right and the moon made itself a presentable distraction for the two.

"You mad at me?" Dick asked softly after a long moment.

Wally looked over, watching the other rub his arm sorely, his eyes still up on the moon.

"No," he sighed, and said nothing more.

"Good," Dick nodded to himself.

He leaned back and pulled another bottle, smaller and clear, from the edge that Wally couldn't seem to distinguish from the shadows. Before he could uncap it, Wally snatched it from his hands and moved it beside him. The ebony gave a desperate little whine.

"What are you drinking for anyway?" Wally batted his hands back when he made a lazy grab for it.

Dick flinched with a dramatic croon of different, "Ow!"s each time he was hit, but he didn't stop reaching for it until he collapsed with his head on the redhead's shoulder.

"Cos m'unhappy," he murmured, watching the bottle's rim with a certain intensity.

Wally gently put an arm around him, heart stirring up in his stomach again.

"Yeah?" he looked down at him.

"Yeah," Dick bobbed his head in a little nod.

The redhead lifted the bottle beside him and took a drink, cringing at the taste before setting it down again.

"Me too," he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

They sat like that, listening to the roar of the world, and Wally took another drink.

"Tastes like paint thinner," his nose crinkled in distaste and Dick gave a breathy laugh.

When he reached over for a drink, Wally hit his hand away again.

"You've had enough, buddy," he insisted, bringing the other to sulk again, clearly not in agreement.

"Bu' you're drivin' us home," Dick argued, nuzzling his cheek against the other's arm.

The redhead gave a little grin, "Then where did I park the car?"

The ebony shrugged nuzzling further. "You're th'ne who parked it."

Wally couldn't help but laugh, leaning his head back against the railing to study the moon again. It was yellow tonight, just a crack, but it managed to light their overpass just enough that they could see each other and it just felt right. He looked down again when he was nudged a little harder, raising an eyebrow.

"Wally?" Dick looked up, eyes seeming entirely black for a moment in the lighting.

He blinked. The ebony was quiet a moment longer, almost as though he had forgotten what he was going to say, so Wally looked away.

"I love you."

It was spoken stronger than anything else the fifteen year old had said. A quick movement on his part had the alcohol forcing his heart back down his throat.

"Shut up," Wally whispered against the rim, his words swallowed with everything else.

The two were quiet for the longest time, just listening to each other breathe until Wally set the bottle down and cringed again. The ebony nuzzled his shoulder faintly.

"M'sorry," he murmured, pressing his eyes against the other's sleeve.

His fingers trailed up and clutched tightly to the fabric, as though he needed this, mostly because he did. Wally didn't push him off. He didn't do much of anything. When he wasn't pushed back, Dick's hand trailed to the other's jaw, his fingers running idly against the scruff. The redhead breathed slowly.

"Dick," he warned, spoken on an exhale.

The ebony's fingers curled and he pulled back, face crumpling as he leaned back against the railing. Silence between them had Wally passing the clear bottle over. He didn't have to hold it over for very long. His eyes stayed skyward until the swallowing stopped, and he offered his hand out again. The bottle was handed back and he took another drink, setting it beside him when he was done.

They were quiet again, up until Dick gave the softest whimper. Wally's face tightened, but he refused to look over.

"Wally," the ebony seemed to plead.

Wally bit his lip and swallowed hard, putting his arm back around the other.

"I know," he murmured.

Dick leaned against him, face to his arm again. "But you don't...?"

He shook his head. The fifteen year old made a sound similar to a deflating balloon and Wally tightened his arm.

"S'why 're you still here?" he slurred unhappily.

Wally glanced down to the bottle, but decided against it, temples clouding in the faintest. He avoided looking at his friend.

"Because you're not going to remember this in the morning," he decided, of all the answers that crossed his mind.

Dick shifted just enough so the back of his head rested against the redhead's shoulder, avoiding his gaze as well.

"B'you will," he pointed out, no matter how abstract it came out.

Wally tipped his head back against the rail and gave a sore laugh, the grin staying in place long after it had no place, "Yeah, yeah I will."

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, teeth finding his lip again and pressing until he felt numb physically, too. He brought his arm back and threw both of them behind him to the rail, hanging on limply and apologizing as Dick lost his pillow.

"Y'won' tell Artemis?" Dick asked as he shuffled back between the rails for support.

Wally glanced down at him before he caught himself, looking back to the moon.

"Why would I tell her?" he sighed softly. "She always... Christ, she used to always say... she had us pegged as a couple when she first got here. She probably knew before you did."

He scooted back when Dick reached over for the bottle, feeling a little better as he heard it slip back beneath the overpass where it had been pulled from. It was only knowing that the other was distracted that the redhead let himself look back at him, feeling his heart give a lurch. Dick was a mess, and he had to be contributing to a pretty high portion of that.

"Is that why you're out here?" he found himself asking, brow drawing tighter when the other managed to catch his gaze.

Without the big blue rim to his eyes, the fifteen year old looked so much younger, and so much smaller. It didn't help things at all.

"No," Dick assured him, looking away first and relieving a large weight from the other's chest. "Di'n't help much, bu'... big build. Was jus' a matter of waitin' on Bruce t'... skedaddle, so I c' come... daddle."

Wally managed a weak smile at the word choice. "Shouldn't you... skedaddle before he gets home though?"

When Dick laughed, it sounded as wrecked as he looked, the edges trembling with something else entirely. Hatred, maybe? Sadness? It was impossible to tell.

"When's he ever home?" he spat coldly, bringing his hands up over his face and rubbing a little harder than he needed to.

Wally looked over and had to bite his lip to keep it steady, putting a hand to the other's shoulder and giving a little squeeze. Dick leaned into the touch.

"Stay w' me," he pleaded, for the second time that night.

Traffic cameras picked up two unidentified teens on the broken overpass until four that next morning when the two seemed to disappear in a literal flash. The same flash was recorded going the opposite way minutes later, and still baffles all viewers as of today.

[1] From Wally West's Wikipedia page. It said somewhere in The Flash that rather than him running faster than light, he could outrace sound.

Also, I'm following the headcanon that Gotham City is in New York and that Central City is in Rhode Island.

-F.J. III