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Dick knows this is stupid.
Knows—logically, professionally, legally—that you’re not supposed to write someone a ticket for jaywalking across an empty street at seven in the morning just because they technically broke a rule.
That’s not what the badge is for.
That’s not what he’s for.
But his day has been tiring—
No.
His day has been garbage.
Paperwork stacked so high it looked like a personal attack.
Some guy yelling at him about parking violations like Dick had woken up and decided to ruin his life specifically.
And—worst of all—
Coffee.
Spilled.
Directly down the front of his uniform.
By a rookie who’d done that awkward half-laugh like that fixed anything.
Dick is still damp.
Still smells like burnt beans and regret.
And all his clean uniforms are in the laundry.
So when a red-and-yellow blur—blue accents flashing, offensively recognizable—zips past his patrol car—
Dick doesn’t think.
His eye twitches.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
His partner glances up from her phone. “What?”
Dick is already reaching for the siren.
“That was a speed violation.”
A pause.
Then—
“…You cannot be serious. That’s the Flash—”
Dick starts the car.
Wally hears it immediately.
Sirens.
He skids to a stop so fast it leaves a faint scorch mark, turning slowly.
“…No way.”
The patrol car rolls up.
The window slides open.
Dick leans out, hair still slightly damp, expression locked somewhere between authority and I am one inconvenience away from committing to this bit completely.
“…Do you know how fast you were going?”
Wally blinks.
Looks at him.
Looks at the car.
Back at him.
“…Babe.”
“Sir,” Dick corrects instantly.
Wally presses his lips together.
Do not laugh.
Do not laugh.
He is a mature adult.
A responsible hero.
He will not laugh at the fact that Dick smells like a coffee shop disaster.
“Officer,” Wally says instead, very carefully, “I was literally eating breakfast.”
His third, technically.
There’d been a robbery.
“That’s not an excuse for reckless speeding.”
Wally stares at him.
“…Reckless—Dick, I run at the speed of sound.”
This isn’t a choice.
This is a default setting.
“And yet,” Dick says, already opening the car door, “you’ve somehow chosen to exceed a reasonable limit.”
Oh.
Oh, he’s serious.
Wally watches him step out, notebook already in hand, posture straight, expression committed.
This is happening.
He’s actually doing this.
“You know you can’t arrest me for this, right?”
Wally’s pretty sure Barry would’ve turned that into a three-hour lecture by now if it were possible.
“Depends,” Dick says, flipping the notebook open with unnecessary force.
“It really doesn’t.”
“Depends,” Dick repeats, pointing his pen at him, “on whether you continue to resist a lawful stop.”
“This is not lawful—”
“Name.”
“…Wally West.”
Dick raises an eyebrow.
A very clear try again.
Wally sighs.
Because indulging him is faster.
“…Wallace West.”
“Thank you.”
Dick writes something down.
It is absolutely not official procedure.
Wally leans slightly, peeking.
“…Are you actually writing me a ticket?”
“I’m considering it.”
“For what? Existing too fast?”
“For operating a metahuman ability in a manner that could endanger—”
“I was on the sidewalk—”
“—the general public,” Dick finishes, louder.
A beat.
Wally looks at him.
Really looks.
At the damp uniform.
At the too-tight grip on the pen.
At the I am having a Day energy radiating off him.
…Oh.
Carefully, like approaching a skittish animal, Wally holds out his donut.
Unbitten.
A peace offering.
“…You want a bite?”
Dick stares at it.
He is still mad.
At the day.
At the coffee.
At the universe.
“…What flavor is it?”
“Cinnamon spice with blackberry.”
Dick hesitates.
From the car, his partner is absolutely recording this.
He can hear the muffled laughter.
“…This doesn’t mean I’m letting you off with a warning.”
“Of course not, officer.”
Dick takes a bite.
It is, infuriatingly, exactly the kind he likes.
Wally smiles.
(This does not stop Dick from eating the rest of it.)
Dick finishes, swallows, then points the pen again.
There’s no heat left in it now.
“Slow down next time.”
Wally salutes with the empty wrapper.
“Yes, sir.”
Dick turns, heading back to the car—
Then pauses.
“…And don’t run in front of my patrol again.”
“No promises.”
Dick exhales.
There’s a smile there now.
Small.
Unwilling.
Back in the car, his partner is grinning openly.
“…You know he was just indulging you, right?”
Dick buckles his seatbelt.
Does not look at her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“…Uh-huh.”
A pause.
“…Was it good?”
Dick stares straight ahead.
Already trying to figure out where Wally got it.
“…That’s not relevant to the report.”