Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bart had always kept busy.  Not just because of his metabolism and ADHD, but because he had lot of baggage to unpack, and he didn’t want to think about it. 

He’d come here to stop the apocalypse, so he'd given everything into saving Barry and befriending Blue.  He’d done everything he could to change the events of history, to rewrite the script he’d been given.  And those projects?  They’d provided him with a distraction. 

Saving Jaime from the maniacal paws of the Reach—great, Bart wouldn’t have to think about what Future Blue had done to him and his family.  To his world.  Saving Barry from Neutron and joining the Team?  Fantastic. Now he had a found family to keep his mind off the hollowness in his chest.  A family that allowed him to pretend he belonged here.  That this was his timeline.

But after Wally…

After losing him…

He was fresh out of projects, and he had no one to talk to.  The two people who knew Wally best had left the Team, or in Artemis' case, had taken an extended leave of absence. The Allens were a mess, and Bart could hardly stand to be in the house anymore.  He couldn’t handle replacing Wally as Kid Flash, let alone as the beloved son and nephew. 

Then there was the Team, but they had no missions lined up, not while they were waiting for intel on the trafficking case.   And even with the time off, Bart found himself on the outside of a drifting circle.  Cassie and Tim were a couple now, Beast Boy was signing acting contracts, Virgil thought Bart was annoying, and Blue had gone to Mexico for a few weeks to visit extended family.  

In other words, Bart was alone, and he needed a new distraction.

He stared up at his ceiling, pressing his phone to his ear.

“....Hello?”

“Hey Blue, my buddy, my pal.  How’s life in Mexico, her-man-o?”

Jaime sighed on the other end. “It’s fine.  Pretty hot down here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I bet.  So…how’s the family?  How’s your abuela?  Still as scary as you remember?”

“Bart…” Jaime’s tone set a heavy weight in Bart’s gut.  “What’s wrong?”

Bart released a strained laugh. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, amigo.  I am a-okay.  Just checking in on my buddy. You know.  Making sure my beetle friend is still bug free and all that.”

Jaime was quiet on the other end, contemplative.

It made Bart nervous.

“You know…Virgil says that the Meta-Human Youth Center is just opening.  They could probably use some help setting up and getting the teens situated.”

Bart sat up.  “You think?”

“Yeah.  You know, it’s full of all the kids who don’t know how to control their powers.  Who aren’t even sure they want powers.  You’re pretty good at dealing with people like that.”  You helped me, was left unsaid. 

Bart felt a fuzzy warmth bloom in his chest.  “Yeah…yeah I guess I am.”

“I have to go, hermano.  Go check it out and let me know how it goes.”

“Right okay. I’ll talk to you later, ah-mi-go.”

Jaime released an amused huff on the other end before hanging up.

Bart squinted at the window.

....The Youth Center, huh?

  OoO

“You promised me this place wouldn’t be a prison anymore,” Ed growled.

“And it’s not.  But some of you need the collars.  For the safety of everyone in this building.”

Ed slammed his hands down on the desk. “No. If they want a collar, then they can wear a collar. But you can’t make it mandatory, even if they're  dangerous.  You have to trust in them, or they’ll never trust in themselves, and they’ll never gain control.”

“Eduardo…”

“The collars won’t be mandatory.  That’s final.”  He stared down his old man until those brown eyes dipped away. 

“Very well. But we’ll need to take other safety measures into consideration then.”

“Fine.”

Ed walked away, shutting the office door behind him with a heavy and resounding click.

He sighed to himself, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.  

He’d agreed to come back to his dad and work with him, but only if his father agreed to make some changes.  Only on the condition that they took a new approach to treating metas and helping them cope with the transition.   The decision had put Ed as the middleman, liaising between the troubled teens and his father’s staff, trying to find that common ground.  It was a lot of work for a seventeen-year-old.

Sometimes, it was like they all forgot Ed was still a patient here. 

He felt the old, bubbling anger flaring at his fingertips and clenched his fists—he needed some air.  Walk away, Superboy had told him once on his visit with Miss M.  When you feel that rage well up inside you, walk away before you take it out on those you love.

He teleported just outside the doors of the building, breathing in the crisp autumn air.

You know, right before a powerful force knocked him flat on his back.  

Whatever it was that had body slammed him now lay on top of him in a groaning tangle of limbs.  Ed looked up and found big green eyes staring back at him. 

His attacker was a teenage boy.  He had curtain-style, reddish brown hair and sharp features.  A spatter of freckles danced over his nose.  

He looked…kind of familiar.

“Oh. Sorry about that.  You just sort of…poof, bam, landed right there in my trajectory, you know? My bad, my bad,” the boy rambled, shooting to his feet and holding out his hand for Ed to take.

Ed glared up at him but accepted the gesture.  The kid smiled and yanked him to his feet, shaking the hand he held prisoner.

“Nice to officially meet you, friend of Blue’s friend.  The name’s Bart Allen.”

Ah.  That was where he’d seen this kid before.  This was Kid Flash.  Blue Beetle’s friend, and by extension, Tye's.  Ed had met the pair a while back.

“Eduardo,” he replied, his tone a little flat.  He couldn’t help it though. The kid had just run him over.  Ed was pretty sure he’d bruised his spine.  “So…what are you doing here?”

Green eyes brightened. “Well, Eduardo, I was hoping I could help out a bit.  Thought you could use a speedster to help get things rolling.  You know, unpacking boxes, making the kids feel at home, that kind of thing.”

Ed peered at him dubiously.  This guy had nothing better to do than help a bunch of angry, high-risk teenagers?  What's his damage?  “Sure. Okay.  The new kids won’t be moving in until next week.  But we need some help finishing up the dormitories.  How about I take you down to Neut, and you two can get acquainted?”  Ed wasn’t sure he could handle this guy’s positive, otherworldly energy for much longer.

Bart blinked at him. “You mean Neutron Neut?  Nathanial Neut? Bald, skinny, handsome—totally the sweetest guy you’ve ever met?”

“Uh…yeah?”  Ed probably wouldn’t have described Neut that way, but…Bart wasn’t wrong.

Bart laughed to himself, like there was some inside joke Ed was not privy to.   “That sounds crash, my dude.  Show me the way.”

OoO

Ed had only been in Bart’s presence for three minutes, and he already had a headache.  The kid hadn’t stopped talking once.  Ed hadn’t even been able to follow the conversation with the kid's rapid speech and foreign lingo (Ed was pretty sure his English wasn't that bad).   

“Alright,” Ed breathed, relieved to have found Neut in the dormitory lounge putting together one of the bunk bed frames, “here he is.  Neut, this is—”

“Kid Flash?” Neut gasped, standing up from his crouch, the wrench falling out of his hand. 

Bart stepped around Ed, hands in his pockets.  He looked a little…embarrassed, and Ed had no idea why.   “Hey Nathaniel…er, Neut.  How’s it going?”

Neut released an incredulous puff of air and walked forward, yanking Bart into a hug.  “Man, is it good to see you!  I haven’t been able to properly thank you for what you did.”

Ed’s mouth parted in confusion.

Bart removed his hands from his pockets to pat the taller boy on the back.   “No need to thank me.”

Neut drew back, holding the kid at arm’s length. “You kidding?  I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.  You saved my life. You prevented me from hurting a lot of people. You gave me this.”  He opened his palms to the room. “A second chance.”

Ed’s eyes widened.  That had been Bart?  He'd known Flash had been involved, but he'd had no idea this...kid had helped saved the city.

Ed stared at the newcomer, who now scratched the back of his neck.  “I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Neut. That’s crash.”

“More than well.” Neut looked from Bart to Ed. “So…what’s the occasion?”

Ed cleared his throat, trying to ignore the fact that he just saw Neut smile unreservedly for the first time in weeks.  “Uh…Bart here wanted to see if he could help you set things up.  I’m swamped with paperwork right now, but I know you could use a little more manpower.”

Neut turned to Bart with a grin. “That’s an understatement.  We have to get this place up and running in a few days.”

Bart puffed out his chest. “Tell me what you need, my dude, and I’ll have this place running in a few hours.”

Neut chuckled, waving Bart over to his IKEA construction project.

Ed left them to their strange banter.   It was weird, but it almost felt like Bart had known Neut on a personal level or something.  But maybe he was just that amiable with everyone he met. 

Ed couldn’t relate.

 OoO

Ed came back to check on them a few hours later, feeling a bit guilty for dumping Bart on his friend for that long.  Hopefully Neut hadn't strangled the kid yet. 

Ed didn’t find them in the lounge though, so he started making his way to the dorms. 

He could hear murmurs from the first room in the corridor, and he halted outside the door.  Were they…just…chilling in there?  Had they even done any work at all? Or had Bart been talking this entire time?

Irritated, he reached to push the door open, but something in Neut’s voice gave him pause.

“…miss him?”

“Yeah,” Bart replied in a soft, wounded voice that didn’t fit the hyperactive teen he’d met a few hours ago at all.  “I mean I never had the chance to get to know him that well.  But he was family.  He was my mentor.  My role model.”  Bart sighed sadly.

Ed retracted his hand from the door. 

They were talking about Kid Flash. 

The late Wally West.

“I’m sorry,” Neut said.  “That must have been really hard on you and the Team.”

“Yeah," Bart breathed shakily, "yeah, it’s been rough.”

Ed didn’t know what to think.  Here was this happy, energetic kid who had always been confident with his powers, who’d had multiple mentors to help him advance and develop control….

And yet he harbored such sadness.  Such palpable pain.

He swallowed and gently knocked on the door, peeking his head into the room.  The boys sat on the floor, three pizza boxes between them.

“Hey. Just popping in…” he said as casually as he could.  Bart’s somber expression immediately transformed into one of genuine joy and friendliness.  Ed had no idea how he did that.   

“Hey, Ed.  We were just…wrapping things up,” Neut said, sending him a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah? Did you guys get a lot done today?” Ed asked, gaze flitting to Bart and back again.  The pair chuckled.  “What?” 

“Ed, we finished,” Neut said.

Ed blinked at him.  “You…you what?”

Neut jerked his head at Bart. “This guy helped me set up the lounge furniture and all the dormitories in under an hour.  And he fixed the air conditioner in Room 8B.”  Neut smiled. “We’re ready for move in.”

Ed turned to Bart in amazement.  The kid smiled at him, lifting one of the pizza boxes.  “Hungry?”

 OoO

Ed walked Bart out of the building.  As they weaved through the hallways, Bart hardly said a word.  Ed was surprised by the shift in demeanor, and it made him feel a bit guilty for hating all the small talk to begin with.  He had a feeling Bart's conversation with Neut had brought him down—lower than he let on.  

When they reached the courtyard, they stood at the edge of the parking lot for a few moments, looking out at the city and the sun that had begun its descent over the desert hills of Taos. 

“Thank you for today,” Ed said, side-eyeing him.  “You…singlehandedly put us back on schedule.”

Bart snorted, shaking his head.  “It’s seriously no biggie.  Just wanted to help.”

Ed turned to face him, studying the boy's sharp profile, the softness in his eyes. “I thought you’d be busy. You know, with the Team and all.”

Bart shrugged. “There’s been a bit of a lull.  Also, with my speed, I’m not great for covert ops.  Pretty much a walking trademark these days.”

Huh.  Ed hadn’t really thought about that before.  He supposed several members of the Team would stick out too much to be of much use to Batman and his secret operations. 

“Well…if you want to come back and see the kids, like you said, we’re planning on having orientation on Monday.  I’m sure having a real hero there would help.  Especially one their age.”

Bart’s smile faded, and he looked back at the sunset.  “A real hero, huh?  Not sure about that.”

Ed didn’t know how to respond to such a statement.  Not a real hero?  Bart was Kid Flash!  He'd stopped the Reach. He'd saved Neut and his friends...and...and Ed.  

But there was something…sensitive here.  Something he didn’t want to bruise.

Instead, he just said, “Or…you could just come to participate.  After orientation, we’ll start our group therapy sessions.  It’s a great way to just…vent.”

Bart blinked at him.  “Really?  I thought it was just for new meta-humans.”

“We’re covering the whole spectrum, chabón.   Meta-humans who were abducted from the Reach will be there, like me.  Kids who are still trying to come to terms with their powers.  Some kids who were born with their powers even signed on because they have nowhere else to turn, or they've hurt people in the past and have to learn to cope with that.” Ed shrugged. “So if you want to just come and sit in…you’re welcome.”

Bart stared up at him, emerald eyes wide and unsure, irises catching the golden sunlight.   Ed had never seen someone look so vulnerable and so relieved at the same time.

“I…might take you up on that offer, ah-mi-go,”  Bart said at last, breaking eye contact.  He took a deep breath.  “Should probably head back now though. Iris is about to have my dad and Aunt Dawn any day now, and we have this whole Allen family protocol for when it happens."

Ed’s brow furrowed as he tried to decipher that sentence, but before he could ask Bart to rewind, the kid sped off with a chipper "see ya"—leaving a gust of warm wind in his wake.

Chapter Text

Bart didn’t actually belong here.  He’d learned to cope with his powers— he had a whole family of supers to help him now.  Or…he did.  And yeah, he was from the future, but he’d settled in pretty well by now.  Sort of. 

Mostly.

Whatever.  His problems were all inconsequential compared to these kids.   They’d been kidnapped and experimented on. And now they were walking weapons.  Walking freaks.

Many of them felt like they couldn’t go home.  Most of them didn’t have a home to return to.

His life was fine. 

….He was fine.

Still, he found himself creeping outside one of Ed’s first group therapy sessions...like a creeper. 

In the lounge, ten teens sat in a circle on those retro metal chairs.  M’gann was there, leading the session. “…And so even though I’d had these powers all my life, I still had to learn to control them.  And more importantly, I had to learn what lines I shouldn’t cross.”  She smiled at the group.  “I will be here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday if you want to come and talk to me.  I promise I won’t read your mind.  Unless you want me to.”

They group released nervous titters.

“Who’s next?”

The kids looked around at each other, anxious.

“I’ll go,” Ed offered, sitting up straighter in his chair.  He wore jeans and a black, form-fitting crew neck, arms crossed casually over his chest—or perhaps to feign casualness.  “As you guys know from orientation, I’m one of the kids who first got abducted by the Reach.  I’d been trying to get to the States from Argentina to see my dad, but…obviously I didn’t make it.”  He glanced down.  “When I first came to this place, I felt like a lab rat.  My dad wanted to help me control my powers, but I didn’t even want them in the first place.  It felt like this body wasn’t mine anymore.  It felt like I wasn’t me.”

The other kids nodded in understanding, all aching in the same places.  Bart leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized by the boy’s ability to speak from his heart, to be so vulnerable and honest with strangers.   He had a nice voice too.  He spoke slowly and deeply, and the accent made everything more…raw.

“But when we were attacked, I was able to use my powers for good.  I was able to save my old man’s life.” He smiled a little. “I started to realize that maybe what happened to me didn’t have to be a bad thing.  Maybe I could turn it into something good, you know?”

“You mean like…become a hero?” one of the girls asked. 

Ed shook his head.  “No, not yet at least.  First I have to feel comfortable in my skin again.  I have to feel confident that I can handle these powers.  So I’m here to gain better control.  To heal. To work through my anger. And then maybe someday I’ll consider the Life.  Or maybe I won’t.  Maybe I’ll just be happy to live a normal life as an abnormal person…”

Bart smiled to himself as the other kids in the room took Ed in with awe and admiration.  It was well earned—the guy had a pretty incredible outlook for someone who’d been through so much in the last few months.   That positivity was hard to come by nowadays.

Gradually, the other teens began to share their stories.  A few shook their heads—simply not ready.

About halfway through the session, Ed’s gaze swept toward the door and landed on Bart.  His eyes flickered in recognition, and Bart felt the sudden urge to run away.  

You don’t belong here.

You don’t belong anywhere.

Ed tilted his head, gesturing for Bart to enter the room and pull up a chair.  Bart discreetly shook his head.  I should go, he thought, inching away from the door. Why did I even come here?

And then M’gann picked up on the exchange (and likely Bart’s mental breakdown). 

“Bart?” Her eyes widened.  “What are you doing here?”

Bart froze as every head turned to him and his stalker-like position in the hallway.   He opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure how to answer.  

I came to spy on you all? To eavesdrop?  To maybe…feel like I’m not entirely alone?

“I invited him,” Ed supplied. “Guys, meet Kid Flash.”

The teens gasped, staring up at him in wonder.    Bart winced as he entered the room.  He didn’t deserve those gazes.  Those should have been reserved for Wally West. 

“Uh, heya,” he said, and he plopped down in one of the empty chairs, foot already tapping incessantly against linoleum.

“Wait,” said one of the boys, “you’re the Kid Flash?”

No.  No I’m not.

“He was previously Impulse,” M’gann explained. “When Kid Flash was….lost in the Reach invasion, Bart here took his place.”

Get out, get out, get out, Bart thought as the kids regarded him with a new expression now.  One of disappointment and sympathy and suspicion.   Run, run, run…

“Do you feel like sharing any of your story today, Bart?” Ed intervened, and Bart was grateful for the platform, even if he didn’t want it. 

“I mean…I really just came to observe and all, but…” Bart sighed.  He couldn’t talk about his own issues, that was for sure.  And he wasn’t sure that his story would really help anyone anyway. 

But...there was a story that could. 

“So uh…my best friend, Blue Beetle, he’s been through a lot, as some of you might know.  Just recently he was bonded to this alien scarab.  The thing has super murderous intentions and tries to convince Blue to terminate me on a daily basis…”

Chuckles spilled throughout the room.

“The world told Blue he was supposed to be a villain.  That the Reach would get ahold of him and turn him into this war machine.  And they nearly succeeded.  But Blue didn’t let his fate control him or change who he was as a person.  The world told him he was gonna be a bad guy because of this power he couldn’t control, and he rebelled against that idea.  He fought against the scarab, against the Reach, and eventually, he was able to find harmony with himself and the scarab inside him.  He was able to gain full control over his powers. Now he’s a hero on the Team, and he’s doing some great work, saving lives.” 

Bart looked around the room, his gaze lingering on Ed’s.  The guy had a strangely comforting presence.  A sense of calm and levelheadedness—sort of like Jaime, actually. 

“And even though Blue was incredibly strong through all that…I don’t know if he would have survived it alone.  He had friends to help him along the way.” Bart patted his own chest.  “He had yours truly, who refused to give up on him, no matter what.”

He would have gone to hell and back for Jaime. 

He still would.

“So while you’re here…don’t try to work through all your problems alone.  Let Ed help you. And M’gann and Dinah.  And your peers.  They’re the ones who are gonna pull you back from the edge when it gets rough.  Trust in them, and you’ll make things a whole lot easier on yourself. Believe me.”

It was a bit hypocritical when Bart couldn’t find the courage to confide in anyone about his own problems, about the truths he’d had to hide.  Or what he was going through with Wally and the Allens. 

But it was good advice, even if he didn’t take it.

When Bart looked up, the room was grinning at him.  Even Ed, all floofy hair and pearly whites.  

Bart thought he looked really nice with a smile on his face.

 OoO

Ed and Bart remained in the lounge after the teens had left, and Ed looked at him from across the way.  “I’m glad you came.  I think what you said really hit home with a few of them.”

Bart shifted in his seat.  “Really? I mean, I hope so. I just kind of…rambled.  Impromptu motivational speeches aren’t really my thing.”

“Nah, it was great.”  Ed tilted his head.  “You didn’t tell us much about yourself though…”

“There’s not much to tell,” Bart deflected.  “You know, tragically good-looking boy travels to the past and saves the day.  It’s all crash.”

Ed quirked a brow, but thankfully, he didn’t push. 

His mind buzzing, Bart’s eyes roamed the lounge, the couches at the other end of the room, the television and the foosball table.  Despite all the furniture, this room had clearly not been…lived in. 

“So you’re like…a patient here, right?  Or are you staff?” Bart asked him.  “You kind of seem like an adult trapped in a teenager’s body. No offense.”

Ed snorted, leaning back in his chair.  “Both, I guess.  I tell the kids to consider me like an RA.  Still a student, but…someone they can come to about stuff.  A peer counselor in the making, I guess.   Obviously I’m not really qualified to be giving them professional advice or guidance, but I have been in their shoes before.” His shoulders dropped, and he looked to the side.  “Outside of my own training and therapy sessions, I’ve been working with my dad to come up with a good system here at the center.  He covers more of the technical side of things, and I…I make sure he stays in his lane.”

Bart frowned.  In his lane?

That didn’t sound like a healthy father-son relationship.  But…what would Bart know?

He raised his brows.  “Wow. It sounds like you’ve got your hands full, amigo.  You’re doing a lot.  Way more than most.” More than me.

“It’s not enough. But it’s a start.”

Bart was intrigued by this guy.  He could have said screw it and run off with his powers, or he could have joined the team when they’d offered him a spot, but he’d denied those avenues and ran straight back to the source of all his conflict.  Because he wanted to help people like himself.

“Do you ever like…get out?” Bart asked, flicking his hand in the air. “Go to school?  The mall? Las fiestas?"

Ed pursed his lips. “I’ve been finishing up my high school education online.  Plan to graduate early, so I’ve been studying a lot.  But other than going on supply runs for the Center and meeting up with metas and their families off-site…no…not really.”  He raised his brows.  “Do you?”

Bart sighed.

He used to.  He’d been a busy body when he’d first returned, working with the Team to fix the future and stop the Reach.  Spending all those nights in the Cave with his friends, forcing Jaime to play video games and pay for his pizza.  But now…now he still wasn’t enrolled in school, and he didn’t have anywhere to be.  Especially with Jaime in Mexico and Tim and Cassie all…together.

And with Wally gone…he just hadn’t felt like himself.

“I guess I never really had the privilege of a normal adolescence,” Bart replied, smiling a little.

Ed huffed, smirking at him.  His earthen eyes locked on Bart’s, taking him in curiously, studiously. Almost like he knew all his secrets, like he could see the depth of his lies.  “No.  I suppose you haven’t.”

They held gazes for a heartbeat too long, and Bart felt his ears burning at the intensity in Ed’s gaze.  He glanced away quickly before he caught fire, clearing his throat.

This guy….

“Well, I should probably get back to the others,” Ed said after a moment. “It’s been a long day.  Emotions are running high.  Now’s the time I really have to be on the lookout for a flip-out, you know?”

Bart blinked, jumping up out of his chair.  “Oh, right, right. Makes sense.” 

He’d overstayed his welcome.  He always seemed to do that.

Ed hesitated, and then he took a step into the circle, a step closer to Bart.  “You should come by again sometime.  To chat with the group about Blue again.  Or yourself…”

Bart felt his walls instantly fly up at that.  “Yeah…I don’t think I’m much of a success story.”

Ed frowned. “I didn’t invite you to come here today to give these kids a case study on powers gone right.  They see enough of that with the Justice League.”  Another tentative step closer.  “I asked you to come because you’re the same age as us.  You’ve got a lot on your shoulders.  And the teens…seeing that even Kid Flash has his personal struggles…it’s good for them.  And I think it’d be good for you too…to open up.”

Bart stiffened.  Open up?  He hadn’t opened up to anyone since he’d arrived.  Not really.

“I think I might scare them off if I tried to talk about the future and all my failures,” Bart admitted, not really sure why he was explaining himself.  “Not exactly a pretty picture to paint, you know?  I think we’d all be feeling the mode after that. Not a bueno situation.”

Ed placed his hand on his shoulder, and Bart started at the human contact.  He hadn’t received a lot of it since he’d come here. 

It was nice having someone else initiate it.  

“Then if you don’t feel comfortable telling them…you can always tell me,” Ed said quietly. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Bart stared at him.  This near-stranger.  This random Latino with crazy hair and big brown eyes and a pretty face.   A boy who barely knew Bart, and like most, could probably hardly stand him.  A boy who had just offered to listen to Bart’s fears and concerns and traumas free of charge. 

Simply because he wanted to help.  Because he was a good person.   Because unlike Bart’s family and friends and teammates, Ed saw right through the happy-go-lucky persona and the plastic smiles. 

He saw Bart for what he was — broken. 

And that was kind of terrifying.

Kind of…liberating.

Ed’s lips quirked upward when Bart failed to respond, and he squeezed his shoulder before stepping away.

“I gotta go.  I’ll see you around, boludo.”

Bart watched him go in stunned silence, smiling a little to himself only after Ed had teleported away. 

“See you….Ed.”

OoO

Ed scrubbed at the pile of dishes that night, thinking about the new metas and their stories.  How he was planning to approach their individual cases.

Washing dishes wasn’t part of his job description, but he liked to help out the cafeteria staff when he could.  Mundane tasks like this were good for his anger too.  They really made him slow down and work through whatever was plaguing him. 

After a while though, his mind started to drift to the copper-headed teen who'd crashed his session.

“Tragically good-looking” Bart Allen.

Ed smiled to himself.

The guy was a hyperactive ball of energy. And he spouted random Spanish words in the worst Spanish accent Ed had ever heard.  It was ridiculous and borderline racist, but Ed knew the kid didn’t mean anything by it.  He just thought he was being friendly.  And he was.

There was someone genuine and real beneath all the bravado—a kind of sincerity Ed hadn’t seen before.  In anyone.   Today Bart had given him a glimpse of that wounded soul inside.  And Ed…he wanted to get to know that boy better.

He wanted to help.

“Eduardo.”

Ed glanced up to see his father poking his head into the kitchen.   Ed’s mouth curved downward at the serious look on the man’s face.

“Bien, un segundo,” he murmured, placing the last few dishes on the drying rack.

He untied his apron and used it to dry his hands.  Then he tossed it into the hamper by the sink and joined his father outside in the empty mess hall.

Without the lab coat, the Argentinian man almost resembled the father figure Ed had come to know as a child.  With his dark eyebrows and mustache, he often intimidated others, but Ed had always associated those features with the humor and love of the man in the photographs.  The man his mother had told him about before she’d passed.

“What is this I hear about Kid Flash attending the session today?” the man said, brow pinched.

Ed shrugged. “He stopped by to share his experience with Blue Beetle.  He had some really inspiring things to say.  Why?”

“Why? Eduardo.  There is a reason we have qualified counselors at hand.   Instilling confidence in the teens is one thing, but bringing in random heroes from the street is not what we are trying to accomplish.  This is not a hero factory, Ed.  It's a youth center.” Ed scowled deeply, and his father sighed.  “I know you haven’t had the opportunity to make a lot of friends here, son, but you can’t have members of the Team storming in here doing as they please.  Certainly not during our opening week.”

“He was helpful. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that you are not here to socialize with superheroes, Ed.  You have a job to do.”

Ed shook his head, hands clenching in irritation.  “I’m doing my job just fine.”

His father lifted his chin at Ed’s defensive tone. “Just don’t get distracted.”

Ed didn’t like the implications of that statement.  It made him wonder just what his father had heard about Bart’s visit, what his peers had been whispering about in the hallway to make his father hunt him down.

“Whatever you say. Boss.”

He walked away, the tension and anger already back in his system, despite the wrinkled skin of his fingertips.

Chapter Text

Bart needed to get out of the house. 

The babies were here.  And the Allen home was a disaster. 

Joan and Jay were always at Barry’s now, helping Iris with Don and Dawn.  Bart helped all he could, but after a few days of diapers and screaming children, he needed reprieve.

Normally that would have meant going out with Blue or hanging out with the Team at the Watchtower. They’d play video games or train together or sit around making fun of The G. Gordon Godfrey Show. 

But now…

Now when he thought of a haven, he thought of the Center.

And he thought of Ed.

Which was completely insane, right? He’d only met the guy a few times.  They’d barely interacted, and when they had Bart had felt like a client in a psychiatrist’s office. 

But there was something about Ed’s inquisitiveness that Bart appreciated.  The guy wanted to know more about him, and that was new.  Most people just told him to shut up, or if they wanted answers, it was about the future dystopia.  It was never about what Bart had been through. 

It was never about Bart.

Not until he’d met Ed. 

Even if the young man’s x-ray vision terrified him, he couldn’t deny that he was drawn to him. 

Ed just had this familiar quality.  He felt reliable and safe, like the eye of a storm. 

And for the first time in a while, Bart felt like chasing lightning.

   OoO

“How can you expect the kids to practice with their own powers if you’re too afraid to do the same?” Ed’s father demanded.

“I’m not afraid of teleporting.  I just don’t feel comfortable teleporting another person. Not when it could hurt them like it hurt you,” Ed argued.

Here they went again.

Arguing.  Fighting. Butting heads. It never seemed to end.

“Ed…you have to set an example here.  Challenging yourself…that’s part of the program. You can’t ask the other teens to do something you yourself are not willing to do!”

“You’re not even listening to me!” Ed shouted.  “I don’t want to hurt anyone.  The whole point of this place is to keep that from happening!”

“Do not raise your voice at me—”

“Then don’t turn me into your fucking experiment!”

Ed snapped his lips together, exhaling through his nose.  The stunned, livid expression on his father’s face was enough to have Ed stomping out of the office and slamming the door behind him.

Breathe. 

Breathe, Ed. 

He took several deep breaths, trying to stifle the pain in his throat, the stinging behind his eyes. 

His father had been trying to test the limitations of Ed’s powers, and while Ed was fine teleporting two, three, or five dummies to the other end of the room, he’d refused to try with real people.  That crossed a line.

But his father saw no lines.  No limits. 

He just saw his own research and a room full of test subjects.

Ed only made it about six steps before a blur of a body ran him over.

He hit the floor with a smack.

“¡Huy!” he hissed, blinking up at the ceiling. He was pretty sure he’d just lost a few years of his life.  He rolled onto his stomach to push himself up and groaned at the headrush. “¡Ave Maaaaríiiiaaa Purísima!”

“My bad! My bad!!”

“The hell…” Ed muttered.  He staggered to his feet and blinked down at the dazed and sheepish boy sprawled across the floor.  “Bart?”

He helped the boy up, and Bart dusted off his shirt, smiling awkwardly.  He wore his usual white shirt with the red sleeves, and Ed’s eyes lingered a second too long on the contours of his shoulders.

“Hey, a-mee-go.  We have got to stop meeting like this.” He took in Ed’s expression then, and his own changed. “Uh-oh. What happened? You look disturbed.  Heavy on the dis.”

Ed had no idea what he was saying, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Bart or the concussion he’d just suffered.  “It’s nothing. I just…I had an argument with my dad.”

“About what?”

Ed glanced at the door warily.   He motioned for Bart to follow him and began walking down the hallway.  Last thing he needed was his dad to see them together right now.  Even if things were innocuous.

“My dad thinks I need to work on teleporting other people.  But it causes the passenger and me pain.  I don’t want to put anyone through that.  Even voluntarily.”

Bart’s eyes widened, and he zoomed around Ed to strike a pose—chest puffed, hands on his hips.  “Hey…you could always try with me!”

“What.”

Bart smiled, continuing to walk backwards at Ed’s pace.  “I get why you wouldn’t want to try it with any of the other kids, but I’m a third-party participant, and I got that good ol’ accelerated healing. I’ll do it. I’ll volunteer as tribute.” He gave a quick little three-note whistle.  

Ed moved past him toward the glass doors, a bit irritated Bart had taken his dad’s side.  “No way, boludo.  I told you. It’s dangerous.  It hurts.”

“Yeah…but imagine what you could do if you could teleport people out of harm!  Dude. Brother. Broseph.   That’s like the coolest superpower.  It beats super strength and super speed.  You just touch someone, and shazam, they’re safe.”

Ed pushed the door open with too much force.  “I’m not here because I want to be a hero, Bart.”

Bart halted in place, and his smile faded.  Then he nodded as he walked through the door behind Ed.  “I know.”

Once outside and free from curious eyes, Ed felt like he could breathe again. It was dusk, and the sky was quickly fading from bright hues to the cool colors of twilight.  Slowly, the streetlights blinked to life across the Taos valley.

“So…why exactly are you here?  Cashing in your raincheck for a heart to heart?” Ed teased.  

Bart made an obnoxious pff sound.  “Nah.  I thought I’d kidnap you, guapo.”

Ed’s attention snagged on that last word before the entire sentence could register.  Guapo? Did Bart even know what that meant?

Then the kidnapping bit hit.

“Wait. What?”

“Stay whelmed, amigo. I mean I want to get out of this place.  You and me.” Bart placed his hands on Ed’s shoulders, squeezing as he looked up at him. “Both of us haven’t had any fun in a while. So I figured I’d take you somewhere we can cut loose.”

Ed looked him over suspiciously. “You’re taking me…out?”  That sounded a bit…

Bart’s eyes widened slightly as if he too realized the insinuation, and he dropped his hands.

….Ah.  Nevermind then.

“Yeah, you know, two guys testing the waters to see if they’re friendship material?”

“…So this is a test?”

Bart rolled his eyes, completely missing Ed’s sarcasm.  “This is me taking you out of this oven box to have some fun.  You do know what that is, don’t you?”

“I know what fun is, Bart.”

“Ha! We’ll see about that.” 

Bart just stared at him with that goofy grin, and Ed stared back, unable to help his lips from curling up at the corners.

When Bart gave no intention of speaking, Ed raised his brow. “So…are you actually taking me somewhere? Or…”  He made a little motion with his hands to imitate a steering wheel.

“Ah, ha,” Bart laughed awkwardly. “Well…it’s funny…there’s a place I want to go in the city, but…”

Ed crossed his arms. “You don’t have a car, do you?”

Bart threw his hands up. “I’m a speedster.  I don’t need one! Besides. Those permit tests are bogus. Complete bogus.” 

Ed had a feeling Bart had failed such a test, but he didn’t feel like humiliating the boy any further. 

“It’s fine.  We can take an Uber,” Bart said, digging out his phone from his back pocket. 

“We’re not taking an Uber into the city,” Ed said, laughing under his breath.  Bart clearly had no idea how much transportation actually cost.  “We can take mine.”

“Yours?  You’re telling me you have a car?”  Bart shot Ed an appraising look. 

Ed turned toward the parking lot, motioning for Bart to follow. “No, amigo. I’ve got something much better.”

OoO

Ed was right.  He had something much better.

The young man straddled his Vespa and grinned back at Bart, who stood there, dumbfounded and gaping.

An electric motorcycle?

Really?

“Star Labs grant,” Ed said amusedly.  “I worked out the deal with my dad.  He got new lab equipment. I got a van for group outings and three bikes for in-house residents who needed to get out every once in a while.”

“You bartered for this?” Bart murmured, his eyes raking over the sleek design. 

“I can be very persuasive.”  Ed sat down and patted the side of the bike.  “You want a helmet, amigo?”

Bart waved him off.  “I can run faster than this thing and survive a crash landing.”

Ed shrugged as Bart settled in behind him.  “Just don’t die on me.”

“That all depends on your motor skills, Mad Max.”

Ed revved the engine, glancing back at him with a playful gleam in his eye.  It was a look Bart had never seen before on the man’s face, but an expression he wished would never disappear. 

“You might want to hold on, Rojo.”

Touch-starved, Bart happily looped his arms around Ed’s waist as the bike lurched forward and out of the parking lot.

OoO

Ed quickly realized this was probably not the brightest idea he’d ever had. 

After Bart’s initial excitement died down, he’d pressed himself flush to Ed’s back, hands linked over Ed’s navel.  Ed tried not to be distracted by the warmth of Bart’s cheek against his spine or the graze of Bart’s sharp chin every time he turned his head. 

It’s not a date, he reasoned. Just two dudes sharing a bike to save money.  And Bart…Bart has no concept of personal space.

…It’s not a date.

Bart provided the most minimal of instructions until at last, they’d reached their destination. 

“A hotel?” Ed questioned, sending Bart a dubious look over his shoulder. 

It was too dark to tell, but Ed was pretty sure he saw some pink dusting the boy’s face.

“There’s an arcade on the bottom floor!”

“An arcade…”

“Doi.”

Ed’s brow pinched in confusion.  “You don’t live here. How did you even know this existed?”

“I make it my business to know the locations of all places fun.”

Ed rolled his eyes as he weaved through traffic toward the giant, fancy-ass hotel.  He parked the bike as close to the entrance as possible, killing the hum beneath his seat.  Bart’s warmth instantly vanished from his backside, and Ed ignored the little spike of sadness he felt when the cold returned. 

“Nice driving, amigo,” Bart said, grinning at him.  “I almost fell asleep back there.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. You would have fallen off and died.”

Bart snorted. “What a way to go though.”

Ed walked past him to hide the smile on his face. “Come on, chabón.”

OoO

Ed had never been to Times Square, but he had a feeling it must be something like this.   Bright, seizure-inducing lights in all directions.  Colors he’d never even seen before.  Dings and beeps and buzzers.  Laughter and yelling.  People up and down and sideways.

He was not…whelmed.

“Where to first, amigo?” Bart asked, holding up an entire bag of tokens.

Ed stared. “How much money did you spend??”

“Enough to last us a few hours, I hope.”

“Boludo…”

“Hey. I’m taking you out. You can pay me back in Chicken Whizees sometime.”

Ed huffed fondly and examined the room.  There were rows upon rows of arcade games to the left, and pinball, air hockey, basketball and Dance Dance Revolution to the right.

“I have no idea where to start,” he admitted.

Bart grinned up at him. “Let’s try the ticket goldmines first, build up our confidence.  Then when all the preteens have to leave for curfew, we can take over the sports games.”

“Preteens?  Bart, you’re sixteen.  Your curfew is like…nine.”

Bart made a pouty face.  “Ten.”

Ed raised an amused eyebrow.   “Whatever. I trust you. Lead the way.”

“You trust me?” Bart repeated, smiling too wide for his own good.

“Less and less every second.”’

Bart cackled as he sped off toward the games.

 OoO

Ed was…having fun.

Like…a lot of fun.

An hour in, and they were drowning in tickets. Bart deserved most of the credit—he’d used his super speed to win almost every game. 

He'd just finished dominating Whac-A-Mole, and Ed was pretty sure he’d broken the thing with his superhuman agility. 

The tickets came pouring out by the dozens, and Bart sent him a smug glance over his shoulder.

“You know that’s cheating,” Ed said.

“It’s strategy, hermano.”

Ed shook his head, eyes crinkling in his smile.

 OoO

A few hours later they were rich ass winners who’d schooled all the bratty preteens. 

They spent a good half an hour deliberating on what they should purchase with their combined tickets, and after they both bought their fair share of glow stick paraphernalia, bouncy balls, and temporary kid’s tattoos, Ed let Bart choose what to do with the leftover tickets.

When the speedster pointed at the giant stuffed pig on the wall, Ed wasn’t even sure why he was surprised.   

“For you, amigo,” Bart said, shoving the animal into Ed’s arms.

“You can’t be serious.”

Bart beamed at him.  “Her name is Bacon.”

“That is not its name.”

“Her. Her name.”

“I’m not calling the pig Bacon.”

Bart crossed his arms.  “Fine. Call her whatever you want. She’s yours.”

Ed sent the employee across the counter a withering look.  “Bart.  I can’t take this back to the dorms.”

“Why not?”

“I’m supposed to be the role model for the Center.  I can’t just have a five-foot pig taking up my entire bunk bed!”

“I don’t see the problem.”

Ed shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“What? You live alone! It’s not like people even see your room.   Unless…”  Bart’s smile turned lecherous.  “Unless that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ed was lost.  “What?”

“You know.  Inviting girls over for the night and having them see Bacon.  It could ruin the whole…mood.”

Ed closed his eyes.  “That…is not my concern.”

“Sounds like it is.”

“It’s not!”

“Hey man, any girl who is not enraptured by Bacon doesn’t deserve you.”

“It’s not because I’m embarrassed about a girl seeing the stuffed animal, Bart.”

“Mmmm I think it is.”

Ed shoved him over, and Bart yelped. 

“I can’t take that thing back on the bike, boludo," he insisted. "You paid for it. It’s yours.”

It wasn’t because of his reputation. Not really.

It was because his father could see it, and then he’d start asking questions.  It would raise too many suspicions.  Even if they were just friends. 

But he couldn’t tell Bart that. 

In the end, the speedster agreed to take custody of Bacon, but only until Ed came to terms with his fatherhood and accepted his child. 

Ed shook his head, exasperated, but he couldn’t seem to shake the smile off his face.

OoO

They stood outside the hotel entrance under the street lights.  The guests kept sending Bart weird looks with goddamn Piglet thrown over his shoulder.

Ed knew it was getting late, and that they should really say goodbye, but he didn’t want to end this.  It was concerning how much he didn't want to end this. 

“I actually…had a lot of fun tonight,” he admitted. 

Bart smiled up at him, green eyes pulsing with the colors of his glow stick crown.  “You don’t have to sound so surprised, you know.  I’m actually fantastic company.”

Ed couldn’t help but agree. “You are.”

Bart blinked at him.  He looked so taken aback it was almost pitiful.   “Really?”

“No.”

Bart gaped at him, affronted, and Ed snickered for the millionth time that night.  He hadn’t laughed this much in…well, since he could remember.  

When he glanced back at the speedster, Bart was staring at him, transfixed.

“…What?”

“You should do that more.”

“Do what?”

“Smile,” Bart said.  “You look like one of those people who should always be smiling.  You should be on a dental ad or something.  You’re hiding your gift from the world, ah-mee-go.”

Ed snorted.  “What gift?”

“A contagious smile!” Bart exclaimed, serious now.  “It’s impossible to be sad around a smile like that.  Those kids at the Center are the luckiest metas in the world to have you on their team.”

Ed felt a foreign warmth spread out from his chest to his fingertips. 

Lucky?

Definitely not. 

But it still felt good to hear.

“Hey,” Bart said suddenly. “We didn’t take a single picture this whole time.”

“And?”

“And how am I supposed to remember this when I’m old and gray if I don’t capture it, huh?”

Ed motioned for him to do his thing, and Bart grinned, shooting to his side in half a heartbeat.  He fished his phone out of his pocket and struck a pose.  “Say Bacon!”

Ed didn’t say Bacon.  He just glanced over at Bart with a small, tender smile as the camera flashed.

Bart hummed down at his phone, satisfied.   “I can send it to you if you want?”

Ed tilted his head. “That would mean you need my number, Rojo.”

Bart waved his phone around too precariously for Ed’s liking, even though he knew he could catch it in time if he were to drop it.  “I mean I could just airdrop it. But…having your number would make things more convenient when I want to come by and say hi.  Or talk.”

“Or kidnap me again.”

Bart grinned.  “Yeah. Or that.”

Ed held out his hand, and Bart placed his phone in his palm.  As Ed typed out his number, he glanced over at the speedster and all his ridiculous prizes.  “So did I pass your friendship test?”

“With flying colors, my dude.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ed chuckled, handing back the phone.  He stuffed his hands in his pocket. “Are you…uh…good to run home with that thing?

“With what, Bacon? She’s light.  I’ll be fine.”

“Right…” Ed smiled again, biting his lip.

Why did this feel awkward?  Was it because this would have been the moment for a handshake or friendly hug between bros, or a kiss between lovers?  Was Bart waiting for his salutation?

“Well…” Bart drawled, staring out over the parking lot.  “I guess I should be off before the Garricks start to worry.  Ever since Wally they’ve been kind of…”   He trailed off.

“I get it.”  Ed nudged him with his elbow.  “You get home safe, Bart.  We’ll talk soon.”

Bart opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but he decided against it, shooting Ed a winning smile instead.  He nudged him back.  “Right.  See you around.  Guapo.”

He sped off before Ed could berate him for repeating Spanish words he didn't know.

 OoO

Ed drove home with a smile on his face, reflecting on all the stupid things Bart had said and done.  He'd made Ed feel like a kid again.  Like he didn't have these powers.  Like he was just a normal guy going to the arcade with his friend.  

He'd liked feeling that way.  Free and accepted.

When he made it back to his room, he was surprised to find the light on and the door unlocked.  When he opened the door to see who'd paid him a visit, his gut sank with dread.

“Where were you?” his father asked, sitting in his desk chair, scowling.

Ed dropped his keys on his bedside table.  “Out.” 

“With whom?”

He sat down on his bed and started untying his shoes.  “Why does it matter? I’m seventeen.  It’s not even late.” Man.  He was extremely happy he didn’t bring Bacon along.  He could only imagine the questions his father would have asked him then.

His father spun to face him.  “You didn’t tell me where you were going.  You’re still my son.  Until you’re a legal adult, you’re still required to follow my rules.”

Ed slid off his shoe, frowning up at the graying man. “Alright. Next time I’ll tell you where I’m going and when.” 

“And who your company is.”

Ed tossed his shoes to the side. “ I was out with members of the Team.  It’s not like I was recruited into a gang or something.”

His father sighed heavily, shaking his head.  “Eduardo…I worry about your…choices.”   

Ed swallowed, the dread quickly turning to unease and fear. 

That look in his father’s eyes….

Did he….know?

Did his abuelo tell him what he saw back in Argentina?

“We’ve talked about how dangerous the Team is, Eduardo…about how you’re not ready to join a group of young, unsupervised heroes…and I’m worried this Kid Flash is trying to recruit you.”

Shit. 

Shit he knew.  He knew, he knew, he knew. 

“He’s not,” Ed managed, finding it difficult to breathe.  Clutching at the bedspread.

“Are you sure?  I fear your new friendship with him may be clouding your focus…and affecting your judgement.”

And just like that, the air whooshed out of Ed’s lungs. 

Friendship.

Ed found his tongue. “You…don’t want me to be friends with Bart? Because you think it will make me want to join the Team?”  He just had to be sure.  He had to clarify, lest he walk right into a trap.

His father pursed his lips.  “I just want you to remember why you’re here and what you can accomplish at the Center.  Alright?  And please don’t sneak out again.  You’re supposed to be setting an example for the other teens…”

Ed nodded.  “Right.  Okay.”  Shit, he felt like he was going to pass out from pure stress.  “I won’t let Bart change my mind either.  I promise.  Okay?”

His father sighed and got up from his chair to approach him, patting Eduardo on the shoulder.  “Goodnight, mijo.”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

Ed watched him leave, his eyes stinging at the corners.

It was good right?  He didn’t know.  That meant he couldn’t throw Ed away.

But somewhere deep inside, Ed had almost wanted him to discover the truth.  To yell and spit and scream, just like Huelo…

Because then he could stop hiding.

He could stop fearing.

He could just…be.

.

Chapter Text

Bart texted Ed a lot now.  Well, he mostly sent him Snaps after forcing Ed to download and install the app.   He usually sent him random things like superhero memes or tweets about Gar and his new acting career.  Sometimes, he sent videos of his dad and aunt screaming and crying with captions.  Other times, pictures of Cassie and Tim being gross and Bart crying, “Is that allowed?”

Half the time Ed didn’t text back, or he waited until the end of the day to send a two-word response.

But Bart knew he loved the attention.

He knew, because just like in person, Ed had his tells.  Instead of offering Bart one of those resistant smiles, Ed would double text a few minutes apart. 

A—why would you send me that? Would be followed a few minutes later by—I think you need some serious help, boludo. Or—it’s 4 am, Bart.  4 am.

It was like the boy couldn’t help himself. And Bart might not have been a patient person, but he would sit and wait for that second text to come through every time.  Because even a halfhearted insult was a reaction, and Bart lived for Ed’s reactions.

Bart lay in bed late one Wednesday night, scrolling through social media. 

Retro memes were wild.   Honestly, Bart didn’t get most of them, but they provided him with a distraction from self-introspection, so he’d take it.  He clicked a few links, took a few Buzzfeed quizzes, and somehow, he wound up Googling crazy cat pictures.

Google did not disappoint.

As soon as he hit the images tab, Bart burst out laughing so hard, he worried he’d woken up the Garricks.  He copied the image and sent it directly to Jaime and Ed.

He hadn’t expected a response this late.  Or really, any response at all.

But a moment later, his phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification from Ed.

Bart immediately opened it to find Ed’s sleepy, unenthused face staring back at him, barely visible in the dim lighting. 

Go to sleep, Bart.

One response, and Bart was already giddy.  He refused to reflect on why that was.

He turned on his bedside lamp for better lighting, fluffed out his hair, and took a proper selfie.  In the caption, he wrote, You first.

It took a moment for the next one to arrive.

Again, featuring Ed’s grumpy face and bedhead.   Can’t.  Mind’s awake.

Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company, Bart replied.

Gee thanks.

Bart could practically hear the Spanish drawl, and he smiled down at his phone.  He pulled up his Google search again, determined to get that reaction he wanted.  To hold Ed’s attention just a little longer.      

He copied another cat photo and sent it.  

This one would get him.  For sure. 

A minute passed.  And sure enough, Ed responded with a well-lit selfie, showcasing his small, reluctant smile.

Bart kicked into his sheets.   Aha!   Victory!

Why are you like this? Ed asked.

Like what?  Charming? Funny? Irresistible?

Ed sent him a very unimpressed selfie, and Bart chuckled, curling into his bedsheets.  Man, he could pester Ed for hours and never get bored of it.  The guy was like a drug. 

Can I come by the Center tomorrow? he asked.

It took a while for the next snap to come, but when it did, Ed was lying back against his pillow, one eye closed. 

Sure. For a session or…?

Bart bit his lip, thumbs hovering over the digital keyboard.  In the past, that had been Bart’s excuse.  To stop by the Center on the behalf of the kids, then—for his own benefit.  But after they’d hung out at the arcade, Bart had abandoned all pretense that he was visiting for therapy. 

Ed was the reason he came back in the first place.  Ed was the reason he stayed. 

Nah.  Just to see a friend. 

When Ed sent him the next snap, it was dark, and Bart could no longer see his face.  Bien.  I have lunch break at 12.

Bart felt his whole chest expand, like his heart was too warm, too full.  He tried to pretend it didn’t mean anything.  That his affection for Ed was merely platonic.  That he was not falling down another rabbit hole. 

 I’ll be there, amigo. Goodnight :)

…Buenas noches, Rojo.

 .

 .

It never even occurred to Bart that Jaime hadn't responded.

 OoO

And so began their lunch adventures. 

Bart would meet Ed in the parking lot of the Center, and he’d drive them somewhere cheap to eat.  Or sometimes, Ed would bring Bart an extra to-go lunch from the cafeteria and they’d go sit on the roof of the complex and munch on club sandwiches and Chicken Whizees.

Bart would tell Ed about the new intel from the covert ops and any recent team-ups he’d done with Barry in Central City.   He’d tell him about the new trouble the twins had gotten into at home, and how he was pretty sure babies weren’t supposed to cry that much. 

It was weird to have someone actually listen to Bart and his surface level issues.  He tried to convince himself it was just Ed being polite.  That they didn’t know each other well enough for Ed to tell  him “cállate,” and that eventually, Ed would tire of Bart’s constant chatter.  Still…holding someone’s avid attention, actually receiving follow-up questions, not being interrupted halfway through his story….that was new to Bart. 

And he liked it.

Of course, Ed has his own tea to spill.  He’d fill Bart in on the meta teens and how each of them were progressing, or regressing, in some cases.  Bart loved watching him vent about his frustrations and verbalize his concerns about the kids — the Center was something the guy was truly passionate about, and it showed.

“You’re pretty incredible, you know that?” Bart told him one day up on the roof, their legs dangling off the side of the building.

Ed looked at him, entirely taken aback. “What?”

“I mean.  You’re really changing these kids’ lives, you know?  Making them feel safe.  And not so…freaky.”  Bart wiggled his fingers. “That’s pretty crash.”

Ed stared at him.  “I…” He swallowed, glancing away. “I don’t know.  I don’t think my father would agree.”

“Really?” Bart frowned.  How could he not?  Ed was a whole new kind of superhero.

“He just…sees things differently than I do.  The way he measures success and progress…I don’t know, I guess we just don’t see eye to eye.”

Bart rolled a Chicken Whizee between his fingers, unsure if he should press, but feeling as if he try.  “What’s…the deal between you two?  I feel like you’re always fighting…which like…butting heads, I get. But you guys are on a whole other level.”

Ed gave a half-shrug, looking out over the valley to avoid meeting Bart’s inquisitive gaze. “He’s just always been a working man.  We haven’t really had a chance to get to know one another since I came to the US.  He still thinks of me as the little kid back in Argentina…and I don’t know who he is.”

Ed supposed he could understand that.  He’d barged into Barry Allen’s life expecting a warm hug and tender acceptance.  He hadn’t realized he’d have to work for that trust.  For that love.  But eventually, the family had learned to let him in, to treat him as one of their own.   And after Wally…it seemed like they’d latched onto him even tighter.

“Don’t you guys have like…family dinners or something?” Bart asked.  Simple get-togethers and family outings had been essential to forming a bond with the Allens.   Surely Ed had that opportunity when he lived in the same building as his father, right?

Ed chuckled mirthlessly.  “That’s not really a concept here.  He’s always working, even when he’s off the clock.”

The confession broke Bart’s heart.

How was that fair? 

Ed gave everything to those around him.  He worked tirelessly to help those kids.   He took time out of his day to hang with Bart, even when Bart could tell he was stressed or unhappy.   Ed loved so selflessly.  And yet his own father couldn’t take the time out of his day to get to know him??

“You could always come to my house,” he blurted. Ed shot him a perplexed look, and Bart felt his own face heat.  He sure knew how to run his mouth, didn’t he?  “Ah…for dinner, I mean.  The Garricks and the Allens.  It’s a full house every Sunday.  Your dad could come too, if he wanted. It’d be crash.”

Ed raised his brows, almost like he was waiting for the punchline. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

And for that, Bart earned one of Ed’s soft, tender smiles.

“…Noted.”

 OoO

A week later, Bart was lying on his bed, reading through his old messages with Jaime—for reasons—when a new notification popped up on his phone.

He nearly dropped the damn thing in shock.

Ed had just texted him. First.

Bart rolled onto his stomach, sliding open the message with probably too much haste.

Hey…is the Sunday dinner invitation still on the table?

Bart blinked, rubbing his eyes, because there was no way Ed had really asked that…right?   He had to be dreaming!

But the evidence was right there in front of his face, and Bart was most definitely lucid.   

He grinned as he typed out, Definitely, amigo. 6:00!

Great.  I’ll be there.

Bart blinked.  Just you? Or are we expecting el padre too?

Just me.  ‘El padre’ is too busy. 

I guess.

Bart’s heart ached for him, but he was glad to see that Ed still wanted to come.  Ed deserved to feel like he was part of a family, even if it wasn’t his own.

Besides.  Bart knew he’d feel safe here.  Everyone always did. 

Question: how are you getting to Missouri?  he asked.

If I teleport, I think I can get there in about an hour.  

Bart frowned.  Teleporting across barren land was one thing during the daytime. But what about after dinner?  When there was nothing but dark, empty highway for Ed to see?  When there was no one in sight to help him if he grew tired or weak?

Do you want to stay the night?

He sent it before he could really think it through.  When he saw the blue bubble of text appear on the screen, though, his eyes bulged, and he rushed to elaborate before that daunting ellipses could pop up.

I mean…it would probably be safer that way.  Practical!  So you’re not zeta beaming across state lines all night long, ya know?    

Finally, after too long of a pause, Ed replied.

Boludo…are you asking me…if I want to have a sleepover?

Bart buried his face in the mattress, groaning.  He was never using his treacherous thumbs again.   He was better off without them.

You don’t have to call it that! he replied.  

XD Oh I do. I really do.

You know.  If you wanted to braid my hair so bad you could have just asked.

Bart wanted to die.

Nevermind, I take it back, he wrote, unable to watch the horror scene unfold.   You’re banned from the Allen home.  Goodbye forever.

He could almost imagine Ed’s wicked smile at the other end of the line.  His brown eyes crinkled.  His shoulders quaking as he laughed at Bart’s expense.

I’m just teasing. 

That would be great, actually.

Bart squinted at the message, dubious.  Really?

Yeah.  Plus, more time for us to hang, you know?

I just need to get the a-okay from my dad.

I’ll let you know how it goes…

Bart stared down at his phone for a while, not quite sure how to process the fact that Eduardo Dorado Jr. would be staying the night at his house.  With Bart.  At night.  And to make matters worse, it had been Bart’s idea!

What had he been thinking??

More than twelve hours with Ed?  There was no way Bart could keep his walls up that long.  Not with Ed’s soft little smiles and his piercing brown eyes. 

Not with that pretty face!  And that accent!

Ed would see right through Bart’s fortification to the hidden abode of all his vulnerabilities, including Bart’s little crush on the guy.  His big little crush.

Bart huffed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms.  He never thought he’d like someone enough to rival Jaime—he never thought he could.  And yet, he couldn’t deny his gravitation toward Ed and his calming personality.  The softness beneath those sharp corners.  The warmth beneath the armor.  

They just fit too well together. 

Bart couldn’t deny that any longer. 

And maybe…maybe he didn’t want to.

 OoO

Ed teleported in front of the Garrick’s household and stared at the front door, suddenly self-conscious.

He’d never been invited to an American home before.  He’d never even shared a meal with this many white people!

He glanced down at his maroon button-up and black jeans, hastily smoothing out the wrinkles in the material. 

Did he look like a street kid?

Was he supposed to dress up more? He probably should have asked Bart more about attire.  

Shit. Should he have brought a gift?  His mother had always taught him to never show up to a party empty-handed, but Ed couldn’t bake worth crap, and he didn’t know if it was rude to bring dessert to a white person’s house.  His own abuelita loved being the one to provide the dessert.  Feeding her family was her pride and joy. 

Was Bart's grandmother the same?

Had he already fucked up?

He had a feeling he'd fucked up. 

He sighed to himself, running a hand through his thick mane of hair. 

Whatever.  This wasn’t even a big deal, right? So what if Bart’s family didn’t like him?  It wasn’t like he had to make a good impression.

It wasn't like they were dating.

Ed wet his lips and rang the door bell. 

Instantly, the door flew open, and Bart stood there smiling at him.  Ed let out his breath at the sight of those warm, green eyes.  His grip loosened around the strap of his overnight bag.

“Ah-mee-go. You’re looking sharp!” 

Ed glanced down at his own wardrobe and back at Bart, who was wearing a simple long-sleeve.

“Am I overdressed?” he whispered, his eyes widening.

Bart chuckled, grabbing hold of Ed’s wrist and pulling him inside out of the cold.   “No way, dude.  You look great!  Come on in.”

Ed followed Bart into the house, taking in his surroundings with awe and yearning.  The walls were painted a calming beige, though Ed could barely tell with all the picture frames.  Every member of the family had a space on the wall, including a dark-haired, blue-eyed man and a tan blonde woman. 

Bart snatched Ed's duffel bag out of his clutches and vanished up the stairwell, only to return a moment later with a broad smile.  "Ready to meet the fam?"

Do I have a choice? Ed thought.  He merely nodded.  

They moved into the empty dining room, and the space smelled so good, Ed was sure he’d walked right back into his abuelita’s kitchen. 

“Hey, Grandma!  Ed is here!” Bart called loudly. 

“Bart, what did I tell you about calling me grandma!” came a tired, female voice from the kitchen.  A woman with auburn hair appeared in the archway, drying her hands on a towel.   

“Right, right, spoilers,” Bart said meekly.  “Sorry.  Ed, this is Iris.  Reporter and mother of two.”

Iris rolled her eyes and held out her hand.  Ed shook it, a bit startled by the woman’s firm grip.  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Allen.”

She smiled sweetly at him.  “Oh, the pleasure’s mine, Eduardo. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She glanced at Bart, who shrugged, seemingly unaffected by her insinuation. “It's true.  I talk about you too much.”

Ed didn’t know what to say to that.  Bart talked about him?  To his family?  

“All good things, I hope…” he managed. 

Bart winked at him.  “Come on.  You still have to meet the rest of the Allens.” 

As Bart sped off into the living room, Ed shared an amused look with Iris.

Perhaps…this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

 OoO

 “How are the kids coming along, Ed?” Barry asked, having finished his meal before the others, like always.

Ed smiled.  “We’re seeing improvement with a lot of them so far.  I’m hoping a few of them will be able to go home to their families in the next couple of weeks.”

Iris clasped her hands together.   “That’s amazing, Ed.  Maybe once you have a few success stories, I could interview you about the Center. We could get you some more publicity.  Maybe some more funding.” She tilted her head. “Actually, I have a hunch Bruce Wayne would be happy to sponsor an event for you and your father. He has a soft spot for children." Bart glanced at her in amusement.  If she only knew.   "I could talk to him, if you'd like.”

Ed stared at her, blinking in awe.  “I…that would be incredible, Mrs. Allen.” 

“Oh please, call me Iris.”

Ed grinned back at her, and Bart was glad to see some of the stress in his eyes fade away.   He knew his family could be a bit overwhelming, but the guy was handling it all like a champ.  Bart admired how sociable he could be beneath those hostile glares and sarcastic remarks.

“So Ed,” Joan began as she set down a plate of cookies.  “Tell us. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Bart choked into his water glass. 

Ed didn’t seem to notice.  “Ah…no.”

“What? Oh, Iris, can you believe that? Look at how handsome he is!” Joan shook her head mournfully.  “You’re a looker, honey. Give me a few days and I’ll have a long line of girls at your door.”

Bart gaped at his great grandmother, scandalized.  He wanted to reprimand the woman, but words had failed him.  

“Careful kid.  She’ll be scheduling a marriage interview before next Tuesday,” Barry joked, and Jay cackled from his end of the table, cookie crumbles falling down over his chin.

Ed laughed softly.  “I…actually had a girlfriend back in Argentina.  But we broke up before I left.  Haven’t really had the time to invest in a relationship since.”

Joan went on to express her disapproval for Ed’s single status, but Bart was deaf to it all.

…Girlfriend?

Bart had thought…

Well…he wasn’t sure what he’d thought…

Why did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like anything would come of it….Nothing ever could.

Still, that didn’t stop the acute pain of rejection. The bullets of embarrassment.  The flare of loneliness beneath his skin.

Why did he always do this?  

He felt a shoe prod at his shin, pulling him out of his trance.  He glanced over at the culprit.  

Ed quirked an eyebrow. You okay? The inquisitive look said.

Bart offered a reassuring, close-lipped smile.  He jumped back into the conversation with an unparalleled enthusiasm, ignoring Ed's scrutinizing gaze.

 OoO

Bart was scrubbing intensely at the dishes, super-speed style.

Girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

No, okay.  It was fine. It was just a stupid crush.  Bart had crushes on everyone.  It was just...for some reason, this one had given him a real bad case of whiplash.  

A tanned, slender hand landed on Bart’s wrist, and he froze.   

“Easy, friend,” Ed said, taking the dish out of his hands.  “You’ll crack it.”

Bart stared at him a moment before turning away to grab a dirty wine glass. 

“You okay?” Ed pressed, standing too close to Bart as he dried the dishes.  “You seemed a bit tense during dinner, Rojo.”

“Who me?” Bart cried, smiling up at him.  “I’m crash as can be, amigo.”

Ed looked down at the plate in his hands.  “You don’t have to do that with me, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Fake it.”

Bart stilled, glancing back at those knowing brown eyes.  “I don’t…what do you mean?”

Ed sighed, taking the next dish and mopping up the water droplets with his hand towel.  “I can tell when you’re putting on a front, Bart.  The whole animated, over-the-top happy character.  I know that’s not you.”

Bart nearly dropped the wine glass.  “I…”

He didn’t know what to say.

No one else had figured him out yet.

Well.

No one else had called him out yet.

Ed gazed at him softly, warmly—the kind of way that had Bart thinking wrong about this entire situation to begin with.  “I’m not saying you have to tell me what’s bothering you.  But…you just don’t have to pretend that nothing is.  Okay? Not around me.”

He grabbed ahold of the glass in Bart’s hand, their fingers brushing. 

Bart felt his cheeks warm, and he let go, turning back to the sink. “Yeah.  Yeah okay.”

 OoO

After Barry and Iris left to put the twins to bed and the Garricks had turned in for the night, Bart brought Ed up to his room to play some video games.

Ed joined him at the foot of the bed and blinked at the display before him, an awed smile on his face.  "Avengers: Legacy?  That came out a few days ago."   

Bart grinned, handing over the console.  "It sure did, ah-mee-go.  You're in for a treat."

As a speedster, Bart had a habit of finishing games too quickly and proceeding to spend all of his allowance on the newest releases.  It was a running joke in the family that Bart wore out video games faster than he wore out his socks.  But Bart couldn't help his addiction—or his speedy thumbs!

"Crash," Ed whispered, taking in all the features on the screen. 

Bart tore his gaze away from excited brown eyes and curling lips, trying his best to ignore the body heat radiating off the boy beside him.    

Yeah. 

Crash. 

  OoO

They played for hours. 

Ed was competitive as hell, and Bart loved seeing him so riled up.  He'd been this way at the arcade too, but never so..open.  So unguarded. 

After Bart had destroyed him in Smash Bros for the fifth time in a row, Ed chucked his console away, cursing in Spanish. 

Bart grinned at him, and they sat together, their backs against the mattress, blinking away sleep. They were both clearly exhausted, but neither one wanted to suggest turning in for the night.   

“Do you miss your girlfriend?” Bart asked randomly.  He winced as soon as it left his mouth.

Ed looked at him strangely.  “You mean my ex?”

“...Yeah.”

Ed squinted at him for a moment.  “Sometimes.”

Ah. Cool, cool, cool. Okay. So that was a thing.

Jeez.  Why had Bart even asked that??

What had he hoped to gain?

He needed to sleep before he said something crazy.

“Honestly though…I think I miss more of the closeness we shared,” Ed added thoughtfully.  “We were too young to really know what love was.  But we were friends.  We spent a lot of time together in those last few months.  Now…her and everyone from Argentina…they’re all worlds away.  What we had…it feels like a past life, almost.”

Bart nodded. He understood that better than anyone.

“What about you?” Ed asked, and Bart glanced at him in confusion.  “Did you have anyone?  In the future?”

Bart almost laughed at the absurdity.  “No.  No, there wasn’t really…time for that.” 

When he looked back at Ed, the boy was staring at him in sadness.  “…It was bad, wasn’t it?”

Bart swallowed. 

Bad?  It was horrifying.  Going to bed knowing tomorrow could be your last.  Always grieving.  Always hungry.  Chains and collars and bruises…

Bart closed his eyes to ward off the images. The memories of his family’s deaths.

“Yeah,” he breathed.  “It was bad.”

A warm shoulder brushed against his own, and he opened his eyes. 

“Sorry.”

Bart found his smile.  A real one this time. 

“Don’t be.”

 OoO

Bart woke up early the next morning with a sore ache in his neck. He turned his head, finding his pillow particularly uncomfortable and...bony. 

His eyes shot open.

To his horror, he found himself leaning heavily against Ed's shoulder.  The older boy’s head rested atop his own, warm and heavy and soft.  They sat, slumped against the side of the bed, arms, hips, and legs touching.  Hands resting on the floor, brushing fingertips. 

Nearly biting through his own tongue, Bart instantly super-sped himself out of that situation, almost toppling over in the process.  He caught Ed as the boy began tilting to the side, setting him upright and leaning his head back against the mattress. 

He exhaled slowly, crouching down in front of the other boy.  Too close, Allen.  Way too close. 

Bart glanced back at Ed's peaceful face, absent of pain and anger.  The soft Ed he had come to know.  

He swallowed.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this.  He wasn’t allowed to.

Not with Ed.  Not with Jaime.  Not with anyone.

But as golden rays of sunlight filled Bart’s room, he couldn’t help but look at Ed and wonder.  Who would Ed end up with?  Who would get to see this calm, gentle expression every morning?  The sharp jawline and those thin, expressive brows?  The tan skin that glowed at sunrise? 

Who was she? And what did she do to deserve him?

He reached out, mindlessly, to brush one of Ed’s long, dark curls away from his face, and of course, Ed chose that very moment to open his eyes.  

Spheres of brown peered at Bart in confusion, who stared back with wide, fearful eyes.  Caught in the act.

“Uh…is there a reason you’re so cl—”

Bart panicked.

Unthinking, he smacked his hand into Ed’s forehead. Hard.

“Coño!!” Ed exclaimed, reeling back and clutching his head.  He scowled, still blinking away his drowsiness. “What the hell, Bart?”

“Spider,” Bart explained, standing up.  He flashed an innocent smile and waved his palm around too fast for Ed to see that there was nothing there. “On your face.”

”What??”  Ed scrambled to his feet and shook out his hair and clothes, dancing around to rid himself of the phantom spider. 

“Hey, hey, chill, I got it,” Bart tried, stepping toward him, but Ed grunted and held a hand out, halting him.

“Do not…do that…again.”  Ed glared at him, panting raggedly.  "Ever."

Bart lifted his hands, biting his lip to keep the laughter inside. “Sorry. My bad.”

Ed breathed out, rubbing the space between his eyes.  He shook his head at Bart in disapproval and snatched up his duffel bag.  "I'm taking a shower, boludo."

"Right.  Right...sorry again."

Ed vanished out the door, murmuring something under his breath in Spanish.

Bart watched him go.  Then he plopped down on his bed and fell back against the mattress, smacking his palms to his eyes. 

He was so moded.  

Chapter Text

Bart walked Ed out after breakfast.  Ed had to get back to the Center early—one of his father’s conditions.  In fact, Ed was already late.  But Joan had insisted on feeding him plenty of pancakes, and Ed…Ed hadn’t put up much of a fight.

“How’d you convince el padre to let you come, anyway?” Bart asked him, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets as they walked through the yard. 

Ed winced, and he adjusted the duffel over his shoulder awkwardly. “Yeah…about that…”

Bart gasped at him, dashing forward to inspect him closely.  “Amigo.  Did you lie?”

Ed huffed and gently shoved the boy away from him.  “I didn’t lie…exactly…”

Bart quirked an amused eyebrow.

“I just…I told him I was staying at Virgil’s.”

“Virgil’s?” Bart blinked.  “Why?”

Because my dad thinks you’re a bad influence.

And because Virgil’s straight.  And there’s nothing for my father to suspect there.

“I just figured he’d be more willing to let me go to a friend he’s already well-acquainted with, you know?”  Ed shrugged.  

He’d known his father would turn the family dinner down from the start, so he’d only ever told him of an ambiguous friend.  When his dad declined, Ed asked if he could still go and spend the night.  At Virgil’s. 

His father hadn’t cared enough to get the details.

“Just be home before 9:00,"  he’d said.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Bart murmured, shrugging it off like Ed knew he would. 

They paused at the end of the driveway, and Ed sighed.  He really didn’t want to leave this place. He hadn’t felt this at home since Argentina.  It just felt right —the big family, the food, the love. 

…Bart.

“So…sorry we never got around to actually blowing up the air mattress,” Bart said, looking down at the sidewalk.  “I don’t usually make my friends sleep on the floor, you know?”

Ed laughed.  “It’s fine.  I’m more upset about you slapping me in the face.”

Bart glanced up at him, his cheeks flooding crimson. “There was a spider!”

“And instead of brushing it off my face before killing it, you used my forehead as a backboard.”

“I had no choice!  I had to be quick!”

 “You’re a speedster!” Ed cried, smiling. 

Bart stared up at him, his own grin fading slightly at whatever it was he saw there on Ed’s face.  There was so much emotion in those big, green eyes, and yet Ed had no idea what they held.He didn’t understand how someone could be so open and closed off at the same time.   

But Bart was an expert at hiding, even when there was no mask in place.  He held everything about who he was in a secret, unbreachable safe, and Ed still found himself…attached.  Too attached for someone he hardly knew.

Over the last couple weeks, between all of the stupid, random texts and the incessant snaps of Bacon, Ed realized Bart had become someone special to him.  Ed actually looked forward to meeting up with him for lunch—it was often the highlight of his day.  (Not that he’d ever tell Bart that.)

At first, he’d thought Bart would be too much for him with his constant chatter and everlasting energy.   But for some strange reason, their two personalities clicked. 

Ed had always been more of the quiet, easy-going fellow.  For the last few years, he’d kept mostly to himself.  He’d kept everything bottled up inside until he snapped and lashed out in anger.  Alternatively, Bart was the loud, high-strung individual who managed to make Ed laugh and joke and….and feel like himself again. 

They just…worked.

Bart blinked up at him, still holding Ed’s gaze.

“A…ha…” Green eyes finally abandoned brown.  “Anyway…”

“Right.”  Ed cleared his throat, stepping down off the curb and turning around to face Bart.  “I should go now.  But uh…thanks.”

The redhead shot him a puzzled look.

“For inviting me over, introducing me to everyone. And whooping my ass at video games.  It was fun.”

Bart’s eyes softened.  “Anytime…”

Ed swallowed. He knew Bart meant that.  He knew he had a place here with these people, if he needed somewhere to turn.  And that in itself was everything. 

“I’ll see you around, Rojo.”

He took one last look at Bart’s red cheeks and ridiculous bedhead before golden light enveloped him, and he was gone.

 OoO

Ed showered and changed into some clothes that best embodied the message, “I’m a peer counselor, but also your friend.”

He headed down to the lab, where he would be working one on one with the metas for the next three hours, trying to coax them into using their powers.  They had to create a baseline, and that meant seeing just how out of control the kids really were. 

Ed was the ideal candidate to help them through it, not only because of his firsthand experience, but also because his power allowed him to teleport inside his father’s bunker of an observation room.  He was the only one who could get away fast enough without getting hurt.

Without getting killed.

Neut stood among a few of the younger teens outside the lab.  He grinned at Ed. “Hey! How was Virgil?”

Ed’s heart fell with the weight of his lie.  “Oh.  He’s…good. Really good.”

“Man. I miss him.”

Ed turned away so the boy couldn’t see his wince. “Yeah. Me too.”

He hated sneaking around like this, keeping secrets.  It reminded him too much of Argentina.

Of Huelo.

Of…Sebastian.

 OoO

Ed had broken up with his girlfriend the night before.  He’d revealed to her his plans to leave for the United States for college, and she’d flipped.  She told him she could no longer be with someone who planned to leave her behind, who had no intention of staying in Argentina and working at his grandfather's shop.   And Ed understood, he did.

But he also…didn’t.

Why couldn’t they be together now?  They still had another year of high school.   They could be together until then.  It wasn’t like they were wasting time by staying together a little longer, right?  Just because he was leaving didn’t mean it had to be the end of them.   Who knew what could happen?

But his protests went unheeded.

I can’t fall even more in love with you, just to watch you go, she’d told him, crying into his chest.  After that, Ed had slept through most of the day, as close to heartbroken as he’d probably ever be.  But heartbreak began to take the shape of anger, and he'd felt that old, familiar rage flare within him.  He needed to get it out of his system before he lashed out.  

So hours later, he stood in the center of the unattended and overgrown field, dribbling to himself, worlds away.

“Oi!”

Ed jumped out of his skin, gaze flying to he boy traipsing across the lawn in a grass-stained soccer jersey, straight out of practice.  

Sebastian.

A boy from class with an undercut and canines that looked a little too sharp.

“The field’s open now.  You can practice there, if you want.”

Eduardo’s traitorous eyes took in the sweat on the boy’s brow and jawline, the way his uniform clung to his body, and he forced himself to look at his own cleats.  “I’m fine, thanks.  Prefer to practice alone.”

Sebastian said nothing as Eduardo made a show of dribbling some more.

“You need to work on your footwork, my friend.”

Ed frowned, and the boy strode closer, gaze locked on his own. His eyes were darker than Ed's.  Heavy-lidded.

Sebastion's foot slid between Ed’s, knee nudging his legs apart and bringing their bodies much too close.  Ed couldn’t breathe.

He glanced down at his feet, then at the boy in front him, who smirked like he knew a secret.

Like he knew Ed’s secret.

“See you around, papi.”

He turned on his heels, running off the grassy slope without looking back.

Ed stared after him, trying to remember how to use his own lungs.

OoO

He hadn’t realized then that the boy in the jersey would become the catalyst that thrust Ed into a world of aliens and heroes and feelings.

And a world of pain.

 OoO

Bart visited Ed a few days later, surprising him with a speedy hug.

Ed hadn't realized they'd progressed to hugs. 

But he didn't...hate it.

Still, he didn't want his father to see them standing in the middle of the hallway, standing a little too close, smiling at each other.  "Come on.  Let's take this outside."

Bart tilted his head at him.  "Uh, have you been outside today?  It's cold."  To make a point of it, he placed his frigid hand against Ed's neck, and Ed slapped him away, yelping.  Ed glanced back down the hallway, wary that his voice had carried.   

Bart's snickers faded when he saw the concerned look on Ed's face. 

"There's a reason why you always meet me outside, isn't there?"  Bart blinked at him.  "Are you...trying to hide the fact that we're friends?"

Ed winced.  That was exactly what he'd been trying to do. 

"Why?" Bart asked, the joy gone from his eyes. 

"My dad..." Ed lowered his voice. "My dad doesn't want me spending time with you or the Team."

"What? Why?"

"It's complicated," Ed said, and he grabbed Bart's wrist to pull him toward the door.  "Come on."

Bart followed him without protest, but the sad, contemplative look on his face made Ed want to kick himself.  

They sat down at a bench outside, and Ed stared up at the cloudy sky.  The speedster hadn't been wrong.  The autumn weather had finally dipped, and even in his long-sleeved shirt and jeans, Ed felt the cold seep into his bones. 

"How have you been?" Ed tried, hoping to steer the conversation away from his father. 

Bart turned to face him, fully aware of Ed's tactic, but playing along.  Like always.  "I've been good. I uh...I start school next week.  We were going to hold off for another semester after...after everything, but Iris thought I should start as soon as possible."

Ed raised his brow. "Wow.  That's...that's great, Bart.  What year will you be?"

Bart shrugged. "Junior, I guess.  I tested higher in a lot of subjects, but Iris thought I should stick with peers my age.  Said I would learn a lot more that way, whatever that means."

Ed smiled. "That's awesome.  Good for you. It's a big commitment for someone in the Life."

"Tell me about it," Bart sighed.  "I mean, I can handle the homework.  Mostly because I can speed-read and get it done in a few minutes.  But I don't know how I'm going to survive classes.  Sitting still all day long at a desk?  And I'm not allowed to use my powers?  Everything is going to move in slow motion!"

He covered his eyes with his fists in a melodramatic fashion, and Ed chuckled. 

"Who knows? You might like feeling average for a change.  Make some new friends."

Bart shot him a withering look, nose red from the cold, lips pursed in a pout, and Ed snorted. 

He forgot how much the kid could make him laugh, lift his spirits. 

"What about you, amigo?" Bart asked. "How's peer counseling?"

Ed leaned back against the bench.  "Fine, I guess."

"You guess?"

"A few of them just...they're too scared to take the leap, you know? They're afraid of their own power, and they refuse to even try.  And I don't know, I guess...I don't feel like I have any agency when I refuse to practice teleporting with passengers.  How can I ask them to work on controlling their powers and finding their limits if I'm not going to put in the same effort?"

Bart nodded understandably.  "Yeah...I get it.  But...practicing with a passenger isn't totally off the table..."

Ed frowned, and Bart raised a suggestive eyebrow. 

Oh.

Like hell.  

"We talked about this.  I'm not using you like that."

Bart leaned forward. "You wouldn't be using me. I'd be volunteering. It's what friends do."

“I…”  Ed wanted to master his power, he did. But the thought of not only hurting one of the kids, but Bart...

The speedster jumped off the bench, hands on his hips.  “Come on. It’ll be crash, I promise.”

 OoO

They decided to start with a distance of about twenty feet.  

Bart dashed to his position on the lawn up ahead, turning to face Ed with a confident smile.  Ed was 100 percent sure the kid had too much faith in him.  But at least a short distance wouldn't require too much energy on Ed's part. 

"Any day now, ah-mee-go," Bart sang, tapping his foot on the grass.

Ed scowled, flexing his fingers.  

Bueno, aquí no pasa nada...

Ed teleported to Bart's side and wrapped an arm around the boy's waist.  Bart winked at him. 

Ed took a shaky breath as golden light enveloped them, and they returned Ed's initial position in half-a-second.  

Ed blinked at the ground in front of him.  

Painless. 

It'd been painless. 

He glanced down at Bart, who was grinning up at him way too smugly.  “Did you feel anything?”

“Nope. Nada, my friend.”  

Ed released an incredulous puff of air, his hand falling from Bart's hip.  "I...don't get it. When I've tried with people in the past, it's always hurt."

Bart shrugged. "Maybe you've developed more control since then?"

"Maybe..."

Bart studied him for a moment, and Ed felt way too exposed. 

"Let's try again.  A bit further this time," Bart proposed. 

"No way." Ed wasn't taking any more risks with the boy. 

"Come on!  We have to test your limits.  We have to learn what not to do, you know?"  Bart smiled. "When I was learning how to phase, I had to figure out how to maintain the perfect frequency.  There was a lot of mishaps...let me tell you.  But eventually, after a lot of trial and error, I figured it out.  And so will you."

Ed sighed.  

There was no talking Bart out of this, was there?

"Fine."

 OoO

The second run was closer to what Ed had anticipated.  A dull ache rippling through his body and down his fingertips. A sharp pain in his head, strong enough to make him wince. 

He glanced at Bart worriedly, and the speedster offered a feeble grin.  “Alright. I get what you’re saying. But it’s really not so bad.  Practice makes perfect, right?”

“...You sure?”

Bart nodded, squeezing Ed's side before stepping away.  “Let’s do it again.”

So they did.  Again and again.  Inching further and further with each run until the pain just...stopped. 

Now Ed only felt the metaphysical weight of his passenger.  

He laughed, chest light.  He could teleport Bart 100 yards without causing either of them any discomfort.  

He'd done it.  He'd defeated his own insecurity.  And he had Bart to thank for all of it. 

He had Bart to thank for a lot of things. 

“Okay, let’s try and push it just a bit farther," Bart said. 

Ed sighed.  “Aren’t you tired yet?”  The kid had been running back and forth all afternoon.

“Me? No! I’m a speedster. My stamina is off the charts, brah.” 

Ed bit his lip at that, trying to hide his amusement.

Bart flushed. “I…you know what I mean.”

“Sure.”

Huffing, Bart dashed to the other end of the lawn, at least twice the distance they'd last perfected.  It was far...but maybe Ed could do it.  He'd learned how to channel and expel the energy now.  He'd developed a tolerance to the pain.  And Bart...Bart was so damn eager, how could he not give it a try?

Ed took a deep breath and appeared next to Bart in a flash of yellow.  Bart grabbed his hand. “Ready, Eddy?”

Ed rolled his eyes, but his hand still closed tightly around Bart's.   

 OoO

Pain. 

It hit Ed from all angles.  It felt like he’d been split apart, molecule by molecule, muscles spliced and separated, bones broken and twisted round. 

Then the universe had stuck him back together all wrong and spit him out again. 

Ed cried out as they landed back at the other end of the field.  Both of them crumpled to the ground, shaking.

Tears rained down Ed’s face as the waves of agony washed over him and out, fading slowly, too slowly. 

Bart…

His head shot up. 

“Bart?”

The boy lay in the fetal position, trembling, sucking air in through his teeth.  Ed felt like he’d just plunged into ice water. 

No…

He dragged himself toward the speedster, exhausted and shaky, and he knelt beside Bart, tears dripping down his horrified face.  Ed wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was too terrified.  He’d done this to his friend.

To Bart.

He’d known it was dangerous, but he’d done it anyway.  He'd been too cocky.  Too ambitious.

“Bart?” he repeated, his own voice hoarse and scared. 

The speedster’s eyes were crammed shut, but at the sound of Ed’s voice, they fluttered, and wet green eyes looked up at him. 

The shaking stopped.

"Ow..." Bart murmured. 

Ed swallowed thickly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.  More tears fell from his eyes.

Bart blinked and sat up, groaning.  He held his head, grimacing as he looked upon Ed with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Ed released a choked sound and sat back on the grass, folding his arms over his knees and ducking his head into them.

Jesus.

Soft hands touched his bicep, and Ed flinched, keeping his head down. 

“Ed…it’s okay.  I’m okay,” Bart insisted.  Another hand touched his shoulder. “I just got the wind knocked out of me, that’s all.”

Ed crushed his eyes close, digging his nails into his skin. “I’m sorry,” he got out between ragged breaths.  “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry, Bart.”

God.  Ed hadn’t cried like this in…

Well.

Since Huelo.

“Ed,” Bart pleaded. “Look at me.”

Slowly, Ed found the courage to glance up at his friend, and Bart’s eyes wilted.

The copper-headed boy leaned close, close enough for Ed to count his freckles.  “I’m fine, you see?”  He grabbed one of Ed’s hands and placed it against his own chest, palm splayed out upon his ruffled shirt.  Ed could feel the steady pulse of a living heart beneath his fingertips.  “You feel that?  That, my friend, is the beating drum of a very healthy speedster.”

Ed’s hand curled around the fabric, and he looked between Bart’s green eyes.  “I hurt you.”

Bart was so close that Ed could smell him now.  Citrus shampoo and grass stains.  “A little,” Bart admitted, keeping his own hand atop Ed’s.  He smiled.  “But if I’d been stuck in a burning building, I would have much preferred one moment of pain than the alternative, you know?  Besides. Now you know your limit.”

Now Ed knew how dangerous he was. 

He knew how little he understood. 

Ed released his grip on Bart’s shirt and wiped his eyes. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” he said, hating how raw his voice sounded.

Bart’s face fell. “I’m really okay.”

“We don’t know that,” Ed replied, standing up, ignoring the flare of pain in his limbs.

Bart looked up at him sadly, but he nodded, jumping to his feet.

Ed didn’t miss the slight wince the boy attempted to hide.

 OoO

They'd made it to the infirmary, and of course, the doctor had informed Ed's father of the situation.  Because life just couldn't get any worse. 

Now, the medic tended to Bart, who sat on one of the patient chairs, swinging his feet back and forth.   Ed stood beside him, trying to ignore his father's looming presence at the rear of the room, the suspicious glances he kept sending Bart.

Bart noticed the silent judgement, and he smiled at the man awkwardly.  

“You shouldn’t have done that unsupervised,” his father chided, glaring at Ed.

“At least now he knows what he’s capable of,” Bart offered, and his father scowled.

"It looks like you were right, Bart," the doctor cut in quickly, as if he were desperate to end the tension, "you're perfectly fine now.  Ed too.  I do recommend that you both get some rest, however."

"Thanks, doc," Bart replied, gaze drifting back to Ed's.   

Eduardo Sr. opened the door for the doctor and turned to his son.  "Ed," he said.  A summons. 

“In a minute.”

“Ed.”

Ed glared at him, obstinate, and the man pressed his lips together, shutting the door behind him with the force of a very angry man.  

“Wow…uh…he really doesn’t like me, huh?" Bart mused.  "I don’t think anyone has ever been threatened by me before. It’s kind of flattering.”

Ed turned back to the speedster.  “I think he’s just paranoid about you trying to turn me into a hero. It scares him, the idea of me out there fighting crime.”

“Makes sense…sort of.  The overprotectiveness I mean."  Bart frowned.  "But…you know that I’m not trying to convert you, right?”

“I know.”  Ed looked him over, placing a hand on the table beside Bart’s hip. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I could run a thousand miles,” Bart declared, winking at him.  Ed was entirely unconvinced. “Hey.  I’ll be alright.  Seriously.  I just need a few Chicken Whizees and I’ll be back on my feet.”

“You and your Chicken Whizees…”

Bart flicked him in the arm.  “Do not disrespect the snack of the century.”  Ed laughed quietly, and Bart’s whole face changed.  “There it is.”

“What?” Ed asked, grinning at the soft expression on his friend’s face.

“The smile. It’s back.”  

Ed’s grin only widened, and Bart stared at him, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his own face.

Ed hadn’t realized how close he’d been standing to Bart until a sharp, “Eduardo!” rang from the hallway, and he stumbled backward out of the speedster’s personal space.

He ran a hand through his tangle of hair and sighed, glancing at Bart in amusement.  “I guess I can't avoid him much longer.  You want me to take you home?”

Bart’s cheeks turned the softest shades of pink, and he blinked at Ed rapidly.  “Home?  That’s like…days worth of driving.”

“Yeah? And?”

Bart opened his mouth. Closed it.  “That’s okay.  It’ll be good for me to run this off.”

Ed nodded, holding out his hand. “I’ll walk you out then?”

Bart smiled, sliding his palm into Ed's. "Yeah...thanks."

Chapter Text

Blue was back.

And suddenly, everything was more vibrant and colorful and alive.  Bart found himself with renewed energy and a bounce in his step.  

Just seeing the words “Back in town.  Meet up at the WT?” flash up on Bart’s screen had brought him back from the dead.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Joan remarked that morning as Bart darted around the house, humming to himself.

She set his plate down on the dining table, and Bart wolfed down the eggs and bacon in less than ten seconds.  “Wow. Amazing.  Thank you!”

She blinked at him as he sped to the kitchen and speedily rinsed his plate.  “What on earth is going on that’s got you so excited?”

Bart beamed at her. “Jaime’s back!”  Before she could respond, he dashed to her side, planted a quick kiss to her cheek, and sprinted out the door. “Love you! See you! Bye!”

OoO

Bart glomped onto Jaime the moment the Zeta-Beam energy faded.

Jaime staggered slightly, huffing, and he twisted in Bart’s embrace, patting him awkwardly on the back.

 “You almost took me out, hermano.”

“Sorry, sorry.”  Bart clutched onto him tightly, smiling into his shoulder.  God, he’d missed him so much.

Cassie snorted when he didn’t move. “You’ve got yourself a spider monkey, Jaime.”

“More like a leech,” Jaime teased, prying Bart off of him with a little more gentleness than usual.  He grinned down at him, shaking his head. “You’re so dramatic. I was only gone for a month.”

 Bart raised his brows.  “Yeah? A whole month! You left me alone with these two lovebirds!” He pointed accusingly at Tim and Cassie.

Tim scowled, opening his mouth to respond, but Cassie grabbed his hand to placate him.  “We were a bit…much,” she admitted, shrugging. “You know how it is at the beginning.”

Bart didn’t know.

“You had Virgil,” Jaime reasoned.

Virgil shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Nah, man. He didn’t.”

Bart made his best, I told you so, face.

Jaime sighed heavily. “Fine. I’m sorry I left for so long.  But I’m here now.”

Bart grinned up at him.  “Did you miss me?”

“Surprisingly…yes.” He glanced to the side and smirked. “The Scarab says hi, by the way.”

And hell, just like that, any resentment Bart had felt toward the older boy for leaving him had vanished.  

He had his friend back.

He had Jaime back.

OoO

Ed hadn't seen Bart in over a week, and he couldn't help worrying that he'd ruined things.

He'd put the kid through a lot of pain the last time they'd seen each other.  Why would Bart ever want to come back after that?

"Ed, you have to stop torturing yourself," Neut said once the counseling session was over. 

Ed scowled.  Neut was way too observant.  "I think he hates me."

Neut chuckled, folding up the metal chair.  "Bart does not hate you.  The kid is obsessed with you."

Ed didn't like the connotation of that word. 

Obsessed. 

Neut had already teased Ed for becoming so soft and mushy around the speedster.  He couldn't afford to let him think there was even a hint of romantic feelings involved.

Not that there was. 

"Then why hasn't he come by?  He used to visit almost every day!  It was annoying as hell."  Annoying, yes, but Ed had loved every second of it.

Neut sighed. "He's been texting you, hasn't he?"

Ed shrugged as he helped Neut put away the rest of the chairs.  "Yeah.  I guess.  The usual memes and things.   Not as much though. And never about getting lunch or hanging out."

Neut placed his hand on Ed's shoulder and squeezed, brown eyes soft and reassuring.  "He’s probably just been busy, Ed.  If he's still texting you, then he's still thinking of you."

"Or he's just pulling away."  

Neut furrowed his brow.  "Ed, this is Bart we’re talking about. There’s no way he'd throw away your friendship over what happened before.  The kid doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

Ed nodded along to appease his friend, but his heart felt even heavier than before.  

Neut had no idea about the darker side of Bart, the real boy under the bright smiles and jokes. 

Who knew what Bart really felt?

 OoO

 Bart had forgotten how easy it was with Blue. 

Their dynamic had evolved from Bart pestering Jaime and forcing him to lower his defenses (quite literally), to Bart cracking jokes and Jaime rolling his eyes in that amused, fond way he did.  Flashing that barely-there smile.  

That smile was a drug.  And Bart was addicted. 

He loved making Jaime snicker and sigh and...react.  He wanted to see more and more of the boy behind the walls, beneath the armor.  Because that boy was special.  And he deserved everything Bart had to give.

As they spent the next few days catching up, playing video games, and training together, Bart realized he'd forgotten how good of a feeling it was to be with him.

He'd forgotten how much he felt.

 OoO

Another week had commenced without Bart, and Ed was beginning to think he should just show up at Bart's house unannounced and ask him outright if he still blamed him for the trauma on the lawn. 

Because that had to be it, right?

That...or Bart had just grown bored of him. 

Ed swore at himself.  He needed to stop thinking about that short, lovable, copper-headed—

A whoosh of cool air blew in through the front doors of the Center, and with it came a blur of reds and whites and blues.

And no.  It was not the American Flag.

Bart hugged him so quickly that Ed hadn't even realized what was happening until it was over.  He stared at those big green eyes in amazement.

"Bart. You're here."

"Heck yeah I am!  It's been too long, amigo.  How are you? Doing good? Woah. Did you get a haircut? The floof seems less floofy."

The whirlwind of questions left Ed blinking down at his friend, uncomprehending. 

He'd come. 

He was here. 

He didn't hate him. 

"I'm fine, Rojo," he breathed at last, smiling at Bart, who smiled back. 

Oy vey. Had the kid become more attractive in the last two weeks?

How was that possible?

"How have you been?" Ed asked, realizing that he was probably standing a little too close to Bart, but not quite ready to step away.  

"As a famous bat child would put it, I've been feeling the aster, my dude."  Bart turned to the doors then, beaming wide, and Ed followed his gaze.

A teenage boy walked through the glass doors.  Latino.  Cropped brown hair and a slim build. 

Jaime Reyes.

Or, as Ed had previously known him, Blue Beetle.

Ed felt his own smile falter. 

“Ed! Look who’s back!” Bart exclaimed, speeding over to Jaime and ushering him inside.  “I wanted to show Blue here the awesome work you’re doing.  I mean…look at this place, Blue!  Isn't it crazy cool?”

Jaime smiled weakly, nodding.  “Yeah, it’s great...uh, Ed.  Looks totally different from before. You guys have done a lot of work here." He frowned and looked to the side, chin to his shoulder. “No, he’s not.  No. He’s not.”

Ed raised his brow.  “What?”

Jaime glanced up at him, shaking his head. “Uh. Nothing.”

Okay…

Bart darted around the room in speedy bursts, pointing to various items and talking too fast.  Jaime and Ed exchanged knowing glances, and then blinked at one another.

Right.  Ed forgot that Jaime knew Bart as well as he did.  And probably better, a bitter part of him pointed out.

“So it’s going well then?” Jaime asked.  “The Center?”

Ed watched Bart disappear down a hallway, completely oblivious to the awkward situation he'd left them in.  “Yeah. It’s slow work, but I think we’re seeing some progress.”  He felt obligated to ask, since Jaime had initiated the small talk, “How was Mexico?”

Jaime sighed heavily. “I mean…seeing the family was great, but they grilled me on this whole hero business, since the Reach outed my identity and all.  My abuela was not pleased…”

Ed smirked. “The chancla?”

Jaime chuckled. “You know it.”

Ed hated how easy it was to like this kid.  They were too similar.  Both reserved, but sociable.  Mature.  Responsible.   

And somehow, they both had a soft spot for the enigma that was Bart Allen. 

“Thanks for keeping him company, by the way,” Jaime added, nodding in the direction Bart had disappeared.

Ed shrugged, tensing up slightly. “It’s not like it was a chore.  We’re friends.”

Jaime tilted his head at him.  “Really? I thought Bart was just saying that. He thinks he’s friends with everyone, so I’m never really sure, you know?”

Ed knew he was just trying to be friendly, but that last bit almost felt like a dig.

Did Bart really treat everyone like this?  Did he invade everyone's physical space?  And shoot them those dazzling smiles?

Ed had a feeling he did.  That maybe…he’d read everything very, very wrong.

Bart returned a moment later holding a bag of Chicken Whizees from the vending machine. 

Ed rolled his eyes. "I thought I told you that you're not allowed to eat the vending machine food here anymore. The kids always complain about there being no Whizees left in the building!"

Bart raised his arms. "What, a man's gotta eat."

"Yeah. A balanced meal.  As in, not Chicken Whizees every day of your life."

Bart huffed, turning to Jaime. "Blue, can you believe this guy? He's trying to make me live a healthy, moded lifestyle."   

Jaime looked between them curiously.  Then his eyes widened, and he lowered his voice.  “Wait, seriously?"

“Pshh, I know, right!” Bart complained, chomping down on another handful of calories.  

Ed was pretty sure Jaime hadn't been speaking to Bart, but...he was all sorts of lost right now. 

Why had Bart been gone for so long with no explanation?  Why had he brought Jaime here when the boy had seemingly very little interest in the place?

"Come on, Blue," Bart said, grabbing hold of Jaime's wrist and dragging him down the hallway. "We're going on a tour, amigo.  But we have to be stealthy because Ed's dad not-so-secretly hates our guts.  So no talking."

"Thank god," Jaime murmured. 

Bart snorted. "Whatever. You love my voice."

"Like when it shuts off?"

"Rude."

Ed watched them wander down the hall, side by side—Bart smiling all the while—and he suddenly understood. 

 OoO

Ed lay on his bed, throwing a stress ball up and down.  Trying to work through the knot of disappointment in his chest.

It was probably for the best he realize it now and not later down the road.  Besides. It wasn’t like Ed had planned on acting on his feelings.  Whatever those feelings were.  He just…he’d felt as if he and Bart had a connection.  Something unique.

He’d even thought…with the way the boy looked at him sometimes…that Bart actually….

Ed closed his eyes.

Whatever. It was for the best.

He hadn’t seen Bart that happy since…well, ever.  He glowed around Jaime.  And Ed, despite his best efforts to help Bart, had come nowhere near the amount of joy Blue gave the speedster.

Jaime made Bart happy.  That was all that mattered.

Ed could kick his feelings under the rug now. Some place his father would never come looking.  He could focus on the Center.  He could stop sneaking around and lying to his friends.

This was good.

This was safe. 

Chapter Text

The weeks passed, and Ed saw the speedster less and less frequently.

Part of it was circumstance; Bart had become incredibly busy with school and the Team and babysitting the twins.  Ed too had been swamped with an influx of teens at the Center—Iris’s article and marketing assistance had brought a wave of meta-teens out of the dark.

But Ed also welcomed the space, and he did his best to keep a healthy distance.  When Bart sent him a wall of text about the Team or a photo of him and Jaime on a mission, Ed would sigh and stash his phone away, responding late that night when he knew Bart was already asleep.   

He just…couldn’t be exposed to Bart right now.  He needed to forget the bond they’d forged.  The intimacy they’d sewn.    And this was the only organic way he knew how. 

But he couldn’t think about the speedster now, his missing presence in the room.  Instead he had to focus on the task at hand—his group therapy session. 

The metas sat in a circle in the lounge, most of them collared.   He’d done his best to break the ice, but the kids were still reserved.   And one of them was particularly…reticent.

Ed exchanged glances with Neut and cleared his throat.  “Rachel, was it?”

The pale teen raised her head, and her dark eyes burrowed into his.  “Yes.”

Ed lifted his shoulder.  “We haven’t heard much about you.  Do you want to share your experience as a metateen?”

She furrowed her brow and glanced back down at her hands.  “Meta makes it sound…heroic.  But my powers…they’re a curse.”

Ed studied her—the midnight blue hoodie, the curtain of hair dyed the same color, the strange gemstone embedded in her forehead.  She harbored great sorrow and fear inside her.  Pain and isolation. 

“Sometimes our powers can feel that way,” he acknowledged.

She breathed out like this was amusing, and he wondered if it had something to do with the fact that the inhibitor collar didn’t work on her. 

“Sometimes we can’t see them for anything else,” he added.  “It’s why the Center is so valuable; we get to see what other metas see in us.   We get to talk about what we’re going through and feel reassured that we’re not completely alone in this world.” He leaned forward.  “But that means you have to open up to us. At least a sliver.” 

“That’s not really something that comes easy to me,” she confessed.  "Being open, I mean."

Ed felt that in his soul.   

He too had struggled to bare his heart to the world—for many reasons.  But then Bart Allen had crashed into his life and wreaked havoc.  He’d spent hours asking him pointless questions and forcing him to play arcade games.  And somehow, miraculously, the idiot had slipped under his skin.

 “Then let’s make it easy,” Ed said, grinning at the confused look on her face.  “Tell us something about you, something completely unrelated to all this meta stuff.  We’ll start with one fact a day.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like…what’s your favorite color?”

The smallest of smiles graced her face, and she tucked her curtain of bangs back behind her ear.  “Blue.”

Ed grinned back at her, his chest filling with hope.  “Huh.  I never would have guessed.”

OoO

Ed’s father appeared in the doorway as they wrapped up the session, and Ed cursed to himself. 

He was likely here to chew Ed out for avoiding his training.  But ever since Ed hurt Bart by trying to teleport him too far, he just…refused to try with another breathing human.  He couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t.

Ed sighed and approached the older man.  “Che.  ¿Cómo andás?

 “Your friend from Picture News spoke to Bruce Wayne,” he said, and Ed raised his brow. 

“And?”

“And Mr. Wayne would like to hold a charity gala at his home. He wants to recognize the work we’ve done here at the center.”  At the confused look on his son’s face, he added, “It’s a fundraiser, Eduardo.  He’s going to donate the money to our facility.”

Ed gaped at him. “What…are you serious?”

His father nodded, and he looked so relieved and happy, Ed hardly recognized him.  “This is a big deal for us, mijo.  We’ll get a chance to speak on behalf of the center.  It’ll be good publicity for STAR Labs and The League, and a perfect opportunity to shine a light on the human trafficking issues we’ve seen. We’ll need to look our best, so I’ll order you a suit.”

Ed's shoulders sank slightly at that.  "I have a suit for church."

"You've grown out of it, mijo.  Your ankles show.  You should also consider getting your hair cut."

Ed sighed.  This was a fantastic day for their organization—there was no doubt about it.  But the gala already felt more like a test to impress his father and the Gotham elite than a party.  And Ed hated tests.

“You may also want to bring a date,” his father told him, catching Ed completely off guard.  But the man was dead serious, as usual.

“A what.”

The older man stuck his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.  “Just for image. There will be a lot of cameras.”

“Right….for image.”

OoO

As a speedster, Bart had always had enough time on his hands.  Particularly in the future, where he had no social events, no hobbies, no real obligations.   Even in the present, he could juggle school and the twins and his heroic commitments pretty successfully. 

But with Jaime back, and the whole apocalyptic dystopia averted, Bart found himself hanging out with his teammates more and more.  Not just covert ops either.  Real quality time with his peers. 

His friends.

And he loved that feeling of community and comradery that he’d never experienced back home.  He loved having people he could laugh with and tease and annoy.  It made him feel alive. It helped keep his thoughts away from the darkest corners of his mind—corners filled with guilt and grief and an emptiness that could never be satisfied.  

But despite his distractions and time with his teammates, something itched at the back of his nape.  An itch named Eduardo.

He hadn’t seen his friend in person for a while now, their schedules always clashing, their energies no longer synchronized.  Plus, his last few visits had been cut short due to school assignments and team commitments.   And neither one of them had been putting in the effort of calling and texting regularly. 

Their timing just…wasn’t great.   And Bart feared it was only getting worse.

“Tim, you uh…you recently introduced Spoiler to the group.  So like, what exactly is the protocol for bringing someone…into all of this?” Jaime asked, pulling Bart out of his musings for a moment.  

After training, the five heroes had strewn themselves across the lounge of the Watchtower to decompress.  Tim and Cassie sat on the loveseat, sharing a bowl of kettle corn, Jaime and Bart sat on the couch with video game consoles in their laps, and Virgil sat on the beanbag chair with one earbud in.

Tim ran a hand through his cropped hair.  “I mean, I suppose we should introduce them to Kaldur or a League member first.  Run some background checks since our identities could be compromised.  Then figure out if they’d be a good match for our team.” His brow pinched.  “Why? Did you find a new meta?”

That drew the eyes of the rest of the group, and Jaime bit his lip.  “Yeah.  Her name’s Traci.  She’s got some magical…power stuff.  I’m not exactly sure how it works. But she’s been living on her own for a while now, fighting crime in her neighborhood.  We met at a soup kitchen, and she recognized me from the news.  Sort of just…revealed everything to me and asked me who she could turn to if things got bad.”

“Well, with Zatanna in the League now, we could definitely use another mage in the group,” Cassie said, frowning at her male peers.  “And another girl.”

“I second that,” Virgil murmured.

“The more the merrier,” Bart agreed, though he couldn’t help but feel a small, painful twinge at the realization that Jaime hadn’t told him about this Traci girl yet.  It was stupid to feel jealous, but Bart couldn’t help it.  He wanted to be Jaime’s confidant. His bff.

His partner.

Tim and Jaime went on to discuss the logistics of introducing Traci to the group, and Bart pulled out his phone. 

Hey amigo, can I swing by tomorrow?  I’ll bring lunch, he typed.

Ed’s reply was practically instantaneous, and Bart nearly dropped his phone in shock.  Can’t.  I have orientation again.  Tuesday?

Bart pouted, his excitement dying as quickly as it had sprung into existence.  I’m going to Paris on Tuesday with the Team.  Maybe…um…next Saturday?

The ellipses popped up, then vanished, then popped up again.

Actually, Saturday is the Gala at the Wayne manor. I have to make a big speech, and I wanted to ask if you’d like to come with me.  I could use someone to talk to, keep me company.

Bart’s chest tightened at the request.   He’d missed Ed's vulnerability and openness.  He missed everything about him, honestly. 

Is Eduardo Dorado asking me on a date?? XD

The reply was instant.  I take it back.  No free food for you. 

Bart snickered to himself, earning a suspicious look from Virgil.  I’m so there.  What time should we meet up?

The Gala starts at 6:00.  Maybe we can meet at like…the refreshments table?  Idk I’ve never been to one of those fancy events.   

Warmth blossomed in Bart's bones.  He loved that Ed knew nothing of galas and celebrity culture. The boy had come from humble beginnings, and it had shaped him into the prickly, independent man he'd come to adore.  Also, it meant that Bart always got to deliver news and city gossip, and he enjoyed having Ed's eyes on him.  He was one of the few people who gave Bart his undivided attention.

Crash. Punch bowl it is, he responded.  I’ll be your right hand man, amigo.  Dressed to the nines.

Finally Bart would get to wear his suit for something other than a funeral.

Gracias, Rojo.  I’ll see you next Saturday.

Can’t wait.

Bart grinned, slipping his phone back into his pocket.  Even though nothing could ever happen between them, he valued his friendship with the older boy.  He was the only one who truly understood him, or tried to, at least. 

And that meant more to him than Ed would ever realize.