Archive of Our Own

Wally doesn't think his day can get any worse than this.

Based on past experiences, that’s probably an overstatement.

But right now, with the last of Linda’s words still ringing in his ears and nowhere else to go, he lets himself believe he finally hit rock bottom.

His feet carry him to Dick’s apartment before he consciously decides that’s where he’s headed— and it feels a little pathetic, standing in front of his best friend’s apartment door, soaked with rain. He’s fairly certain Dick isn't even home, given the hour.

But he didn't have anywhere else to go— Linda broke up with him because he fucked up big time, and he doesn't want Barry and Iris to know about it just yet. He can’t bear the thought of facing them right now. 

Dick though…

Dick wouldn’t push. He wouldn't ask Wally to talk before he was ready, wouldn't press him to explain what happened or how he was feeling.

He’d just let Wally exist for a while, talk about his day or about what his family had been up to— just anything to keep Wally’s mind off Linda. He’d offer a hug too if Wally needed one.

And that’s all he needs right now.

Wally sighs quietly as he raises a fist, knocking twice before letting his hand fall to his side. He probably should've called first. What if Dick isn't home? Or worse— what if Dick just wasn't in the mood to see him?

It doesn't take a minute until the door swings open, and Dick stares at him with wide eyes. “...Wally?”

Wally smiles weakly. “Hi. Sorry. Should’ve called before dropping unannounced.” He rubs the back of his neck, wet bangs falling over his eyes. “Honestly, I didn't think you’d be home.”

“I was about to…” Dick trails off, his eyes flickering over Wally’s soaked clothes and rain plastered hair. “...leave for patrol.” 

His expression shifts.

A softer look that Wally has only seen a handful of times, usually directed to Dick’s ex girlfriends. He’s been on the receiving end of it a few times too.

Without another word, he steps aside and opens the door wider. “Come here.”

Wally barely has the time to step inside before Dick’s hands are on his shoulders, ushering him into the warmth of the apartment. It smells faintly of tea tree oil and vanilla— Dick.

“Sorry,” Wally whispers. “You probably have important cases to deal with.”

“It can wait,” Dick assures quietly, closing the door behind them with a quiet click. “You’re more important right now.”

Wally lets Dick steer him toward the bedroom without protest as water drips from his clothes, leaving a trail of puddles across the hardwood floor.

Dick doesn't so much as glance at them.

Wally feels a little guilty anyway.

“Take a shower,” Dick says, already rummaging through his dresser. He pulls out a fresh t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a towel before pressing them into Wally’s arms. “Get yourself warmed up. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Wally can only manage a small nod and lets his feet drag him to the bathroom. His body moves on autopilot as he peels off his rain-soaked clothes, leaving them in a wet pile in the corner. 

He stands under the shower, eyes closed as the hot water washes over his chilled skin. 

He doesn't know how long he stands there. Long enough for the steam to fog the mirror. Long enough for his thoughts to circle back to Linda again and again.

Either way, Dick doesn't interrupt.

And Wally is grateful for that.

But he can't stay in the shower forever. Eventually, he forces himself to turn the tap off with a sigh. He dries himself off, limbs heavy as he pulls Dick’s clothes on. 

It smells like him too. 

Like comfort.

As promised, Dick is sitting on his bed with two mugs of hot cocoa on his nightstand when he exits the bathroom, and Wally wastes no time tackling him into a hug.

Dick lets out a startled yelp as they fall back on the bed, but his arms come around Wally anyway, like it's muscle memory by now. Wally buries his face into the crook of Dick’s neck with a shuddering breath as a hand slips into Wally’s damp hair, and the other settles between his shoulder blades.

“I’ve got you,” Dick murmurs.

Wally doesn't say anything. Just breathes Dick in like it can somehow get rid of the ache in his chest. 

Wishes that it could, really.

They stay like that until Wally finally pulls away, only to take a sip of his hot chocolate. Even then, their legs remain tangled together. 

It's delicious.

It always is.

Dick watches him with those ridiculously blue eyes of his, head tilted just enough that his expression softens into something that makes Wally wonder if he’s missed something. “Good?”

“Always,” Wally murmurs, offering a small smile.

Dick rolls his eyes as Wally sets his mug on the nightstand before settling back into his arms again with a soft sigh. Dick’s nails lightly scratch at his scalp, and Wally can’t help but to melt in his embrace.

“You wanna stay in here or watch some movies while we eat pizza?” Dick asks after a while, his fingers still absentmindedly scratching at Wally’s scalp in the way he knows Wally likes.

Wally hums, burying his face a little further into Dick’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent. If Dick notices, he doesn't call him out. “You know I’m always in the mood for pizza and movies.”

A quiet huff of laughter leaves Dick. “Mm. What are you in the mood for?”

“White Chicks,” Wally answers almost immediately. Then tilts his head, considering. “And pepperoni pizza.”

“Alright,” Dick agrees easily, shifting beneath him to grab his phone.

Wally barely moves. He simply watches as Dick orders their food before setting his phone aside and wrapping an arm around him again as if he never moved.

In Dick’s arms, he can almost forget how much it hurts.

Almost.

Wally chews on his bottom lip and pulls away just enough to look at Dick while resisting the urge to bury his face in Dick’s neck forever.

“Dick…”

“Yeah?”

Wally chews on his bottom lip, suddenly reconsidering. Dick doesn't push. He never does. He simply waits, patient as ever, until Wally finally blurts out—

“Linda broke up with me.”

There's a small, sharp inhale before Dick tightens his arms around Wally. Then, a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

The room falls silent.

Only then does Wally realise he’s expecting Dick to ask the inevitable question— why.

He shifts slightly, forehead knocking against Dick’s jaw as he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes fluttering shut. “She said I wasn't…” Wally trails off, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he recalls Linda’s words. “She said I wasn't there anymore.”

He laughs once, humourlessly. “I don't even think she's wrong,” he continues. “Because every time we made plans, something would come up. I’d cancel, promise to make it up to her, and then…”

Wally sighs and finally pulls away, rolling onto his back beside Dick. He stares up at the ceiling, fidgeting with the strings of his borrowed sweatpants. 

“...Then I’d do it again,” he finishes. Then, he quietly adds, “She said she was tired of building our future around promises.”

Dick doesn't say anything.

Instead, he reaches over, resting a hand over Wally’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. Wally flips his hand over without thinking, idly fidgeting with Dick’s fingers.

Then, Dick murmurs, “That doesn't mean she stopped loving you.”

“No,” Wally agrees quietly, because he knows that. Linda said so herself. “But it also means I pushed her to her breaking point.”

Dick hums softly. “Sometimes we end up hurting the people we love the most.” Then, he adds, almost like an afterthought, “And I don't think she’s disappointed.”

“What makes you say that?” Wally asks weakly, glancing at him.

“Because every time you promise you’ll make it up to her, she believes you,” Dick explains, his voice gentle. “And I think she’s scared of believing the next promise. Because one day…” His gaze drops to their joined hands. “...you might not come home to keep it.”

“Oh,” Wally  breathes, because there’s nothing else he can say. He blinks hard, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling. “What should I do, then?”

“Give her time to breathe,” Dick replies. “Then show her.”

Wally frowns slightly. “Show her what?”

“That you heard her.”

When Wally turns to look at him, Dick is staring up at the ceiling. 

“Since when did you get so wise?” Wally asks, with a small, tired smile.

“Comes with the job,” Dick says with a nonchalant shrug, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Of being your best friend, that is.”

Wally rolls his eyes fondly, giving Dick a light shove. “Shut up. God, you’re insufferable.”

Dick grins. “You love me.”

Wally sighs dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

For the briefest of seconds, something unreadable flickers across Dick’s face before his grin returns. He pokes Wally’s side in a playful manner, causing him to yelp.

“Hey!”

Dick only laughs, dimples on display.

Just as Wally is about to retaliate, the doorbell rings. 

Right.

The pizza.

“I’ll get it,” Dick announces as he rolls out of bed, exiting the room. “Go get the movie started.”

Wally watches him disappear down the hallway before dragging himself off the bed with a quiet sigh. Only then did he realise Dick’s floor is free from puddles. He makes a mental note to make it up to Dick before heading for the living room.

For tonight, he lets himself believe everything will be okay.

Dick has spent three days pretending he doesn't know the next seven years.

Pretending he doesn't know Wally and Linda eventually find their way back to each other. Pretending he hasn't already attended their wedding. Pretending he hasn't held their children.

Three days ago, a temporal anomaly threw him back into his younger body.

He went to Bruce. Then Barry. Neither of them has figured out how to bring him home yet. 

Ever since then, they’ve been trying to undo whatever bullshit that got him here in the first place.

Until then, all Dick can do is wait.

He hadn't meant to keep it from Wally— but there was never a good time to tell him. Not when Wally is his priority now. It wouldn't be fair to dump his chronal mishaps onto someone who is already carrying more than enough.

And being sent back to the past made him realise just how long seven years really was. He doesn't remember every conversation, every patrol, and every ordinary day— but some things, though, he remembered as if they had happened yesterday. 

Like how Wally stood in front of his apartment, soaked to the bone. How he paced around, wondering where he’d gone wrong with Linda. How Dick offered him a place to stay until he mustered up the courage to talk to Linda again.

This time, he did things differently.

He comforted Wally better. 

He made Wally hot chocolate after his shower. He let him tackle Dick into a hug despite how painful it was to have the person he loves right there in his arms, thinking about how it’s so easy to just kiss him right there—

But he couldn't.

He couldn't do that to Wally. 

He couldn't do that to Linda. 

Time isn’t something to be messed with. Bruce taught him that. Barry taught him that. Wally taught him that. 

No matter how tempting it is.

God, he really needs to stop getting himself into these kinds of situations.

“Linda texted me.”

Dick blinks, dragged out of his thoughts by Wally’s voice. He looks up from the report he’d been pretending to read for the last ten minutes and hums. “What did she say?”

“She wants to talk,” Wally says, his voice a mix of relief and fear. “God, Rob… what if I mess it up again?”

“You won’t,” Dick reassures without hesitation. Because it’s the truth. “Just listen to her. Show her that you care. And don’t rush her.”

“What if this is really it?” Wally paces around the room, rubbing his forefinger against his lower lip— a habit he’d never quite outgrown. “What if we’re really over, Dick? Then what?”

“Then you respect what she wants,” Dick advises.

He knows that they’ll get back together— obviously. But Wally doesn't know that, and Dick plans to keep it that way.

The only problem is that the details are fuzzy.

Was Wally this nervous the first time? Dick honestly can't remember. He remembers the outcome. He remembers the reconciliation.

But whether Wally had worried about how the conversation might go…

Whether he’d gone to Dick this often for advice…

Whether he’d looked at Dick with the same desperate hope…

Those memories had blurred years ago.

“I just—” Wally cuts himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose before flopping onto the couch beside him, his leg bouncing so fast Dick is half-convinced he might accidentally burn a hole through the floor— or phase through it and scare his downstairs neighbours. “I don't know what to do.”

Neither does Dick. 

He remembers how little he’d said the first time around. Mostly because he’d never thought himself particularly qualified to give relationship advice to the man he was in love with.

He wishes, just this once, that Wally had gone to Iris instead.

But he places a hand on Wally’s knee anyway, and almost immediately, the bouncing stops. “You don’t have to fix everything right now,” he says gently. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta slow down and give Linda— and yourself— some time to heal.”

Is he a hypocrite for telling Wally to heal while refusing to do the same? 

Maybe. 

Then again, moving on had always sounded easier when the person in question wasn't sitting beside you, seeking comfort from you.

But Wally doesn't need to know that.

“I know,” Wally replies quietly, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with Dick’s while Dick just stares at their hands. “I just… don’t want to lose her, y’know?”

You’ll marry her, Dick wants to say. You’ll build a life together. You'll have children. 

But he swallows the words and settles on, “Then don't waste the chance she's giving you.” He nods his head towards Wally's phone. “She reached out because she thinks things can still change between you two. That’s a good place to start.”

Wally studies him for a moment before offering a small smile. “You really know what to say.”

Because he'd spent years knowing Wally. 

Which also meant knowing everything he couldn't say.

Dick shrugs instead. “I try.”

Wally chuckles, shaking his head as he leans back against the couch, his hands still absently fidgeting with Dick’s fingers. “Thanks.”

Dick smiles back. “Anytime.”

Wally finally relaxes, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving as he glances down at his phone again. His thumb hovers over Linda’s chat before the corner of his lips lifts into the smallest, most hopeful smile.

Something in his chest flares at the sight.

Relief. And something else that he pointedly ignores.

Over the years, he's gotten good at ignoring it. He has to. He needs to. Otherwise it’ll ruin everything.

But he just wishes Wally would stop looking at him like that— like Dick has all the answers. Like Dick can somehow make everything okay.

Because he can’t— not without saying too much. Not without risking everything.

So he keeps smiling, keeps offering advice he’s spent years learning the hard way, and refuses to acknowledge the weight in his chest doesn't exist every time Wally unconsciously reaches out for him. 

It’s easier this way.

It has to be.

“Unfortunately, we still haven't found a solution.”

Dick groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I’m officially convinced I’m stuck here.”

It’s been four days. 

Four days of being stuck in the past.

Two days since he went to Bruce and Barry for help, and yet they are no closer to finding a way back to Dick’s timeline.

“Don’t say that, kid,” Barry chastises, giving his back a reassuring pat. It doesn't really help, but kudos to him for trying. “Maybe we’re just missing something.”

Bruce grunts from the BatComputer. “There’s still one option left. Magic.”

Dick presses his lips together. “So you’re saying some magic user cursed me to go back in time?”

“It's a possibility.”

“Okay, let’s say that it is— why this point in time, exactly?” Barry wonders aloud. “Why seven years? Why not five? Ten? It feels like it’s too…”

“Intentional,” Bruce finishes, his brows furrowing.

Dick’s frown deepens. “You think someone did this on purpose?”

“Seven years is too specific to be ignored,” Bruce points out. “Whoever— or whatever— did this could’ve sent you back to any point in your life. Instead, you ended up here.” He pauses. “I don’t know why.”

It’s unsettling to hear Batman admit he doesn't know something.

“But nothing major happened seven years ago,” Dick mutters, rubbing his chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “At least, not to me, anyway.”

Well, nothing major.

Except…

Wally’s breakup with Linda a few days ago.

But surely that isn't— can't be— the reason why he’s thrown back into the past.

And why Dick Grayson?

Why not Nightwing?

If this had anything to do with some magical bullshit, temporal anomaly, or someone with a grudge— Nightwing made far more sense. Dick Grayson was just… 

Dick.

Bruce hums thoughtfully. “Peculiar.”

“Even if something did happen somewhere,” Barry says slowly, “why was Dick the one sent back?”

“That’s what I wanna know too,” Dick grumbles, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. “So what's the plan? Call Z? Or—”

“We are not calling Constantine,” Bruce cuts, his voice gruff. 

Barry grimaces. “Yeah, Zatanna’s our safe option. I’m not trying to owe Constantine anything.”

“We’ll have to,” Dick points out. “Call him, I mean. If no one is available.”

“He’ll be our last resort,” Bruce says with finality. “Until then, we’ll get in contact with Zatanna or other magic users and see if they’re available.”

Before anyone can say anything else, a phone rings.

It takes Dick a second to realise that it’s his. 

Frowning, he pulls it from his back pocket and blinks as he stares at the caller ID. 

He answers the call immediately.

“Wally?”

Both Barry and Bruce turn to look at him.

They’d promised not to say a word about Dick’s current situation to anyone else— especially Wally. Neither of them had argued when Dick asked, and he knows they prefer to keep the number of people who know to a minimum anyway.

“Hey. Sorry. I know you’re at the Manor right now— but can I come over?” 

Had Wally come by the Manor the first time around? He wanted to say no. But the memories are too fuzzy to be trusted.

“I’m sure Bruce doesn't mind.” Dick glances at Bruce, who lifts an eyebrow that clearly translates to I do mind. Dick pointedly ignores it. “You can come over right now, actually. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Cool. I’ll come by the front door. See you in a sec.”

“Mhm. See you soon.” Dick hangs up and turns to look at the two other men. “Wally's coming over. I’ll keep him upstairs while you guys work.”

Neither Bruce nor Barry objects.

Okay, well, he’s pretty sure Bruce is objecting internally— but that’s not gonna stop Dick either way. He’s probably only tolerating it because Barry’s here.

“We’ll let you know if we found something, kid,” Barry says, clapping Dick on the back. “We’ll get you home.”

“Thanks, Barry.” Dick shoots him a smile, wishing he could borrow some of the speedster’s optimism. He said it so sincerely, like he genuinely believes that they could.

Dick turns to look at Bruce, who simply nods once in agreement with Barry. For the briefest second, his expression softens before turning back to his ridiculously large computer. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Dick’s lips as he shakes his head, leaving the BatCave. 

The Manor had been empty when he arrived— but now, closer to dinner, it’s filled with small, quiet chatter and the muffled clatter of pots and pans.

With a deep breath, Dick enters the dining room to find Wally already there, with Tim keeping him company as Alfred prepares dinner. 

He still hasn't figured out how to feel about seeing Alfred, alive and well.

Did it hurt? Of course it did. 

But it’s going to hurt a lot more when he finally returns to his original timeline, knowing he’s no longer there. 

That’s the part Dick isn't looking forward to.

For now, though, he can pretend. He can enjoy Alfred’s presence while it lasts, so long as he doesn't let anything slip that might alter the timeline.

“Hey guys. Not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Nope,” Wally chirps as he pushes himself to his feet.

“About time,” Tim says dryly as he tosses a Goldfish cracker into his mouth. “I was wondering how long it’d take before Wally ditched me to find you.”

“I came here for him,” Wally says with a shrug, hooking their arms together and playfully sticking out his tongue at Tim. “Of course I’ll ditch you to find him.”

Dick rolls his eyes and ignores the way his pulse quickens at Wally’s easy claim as Tim deadpans, “Wow. Feeling the love.”

Wally snickers as he tugs Dick out of the room, leading them towards Dick’s bedroom. Wally’s been here enough times that he doesn't get lost anymore, and thank God for that. 

Dick still hasn't forgotten the number of times Wally accidentally wandered into the wrong room.

Too many to count, really. They even got in trouble with Bruce because Dick had snuck Wally in— but of course the speedster went into the wrong room after stealing snacks from the pantry.

The memory makes him smile faintly.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Wally sprawls across the bed with a dramatic groan. “One of these days I’ll steal all the mattresses from Bruce.”

“Alfred wouldn't like that,” Dick laughs, giving Wally a light shove so he has room to lie down beside him. 

Wally merely rolls onto his side, tangling their legs together like it's the most natural thing in the world and hums. 

Dick steadies his heartbeat to slow and waits.

“We talked today,” Wally says eventually, throwing an arm around Dick’s waist casually. Dick lets him. “Linda said she wants to take things slow. Let things around us breathe first before we try anything else again.”

Dick’s pretty sure that's how he remembers it. 

Good. Nothing had changed— and Dick hasn't done anything to break it.

“That's good,” Dick hums, tapping his fingers against Wally's arm almost unconsciously. “See? Taking it slow wasn't such a bad idea.”

“I know,” Wally murmurs, shifting closer to Dick. “It’s just… hard, you know? To slow down for someone when everything around me is moving too fast.”

“I get that,” Dick says quietly. “But some things are worth slowing down for.”

Wally is quiet for a moment.

“Have you…” He trails off, looking off to the side before his gaze settles on Dick again. “Have you ever felt like this before? With… Kory or Babs?”

Dick tilts his head, considering his words. “I can’t really say,” he admits. “Every relationship is different.”

Wally presses his lips together and nods. “I guess that’s true.”

The room falls quiet.

Wally’s thumb absently traces lazy circles against Dick’s side.

Dick has to pretend it doesn't do anything to him.

The timeline is still intact.

That’s all that matters.

Nightwing overlooks the city, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders.

He’s been officially stuck here for three goddamn weeks.

Dick hadn't wanted to believe it when Bruce admitted they didn't know how to send him home. It sounded unreal. Bruce— Batman— had contingency plans for every contingency plan.

And yet…

They still hadn't found the cause— which meant they couldn't find the solution.

Constantine was no help either, and Dick is running out of people to ask. At this rate, the whole Justice League would find out about his situation. So much for keeping it lowkey.

Too many days have passed, and Dick is slowly losing count. He wonders if anyone has noticed his disappearance in his original timeline.

He hopes someone has.

Sure, he had a bad habit of disappearing for weeks without much warning, but he'd been trying to do better— letting people in instead of pushing them away. Telling them he needs time alone instead of dropping off the radar. Allowing them to take care of him on the days he doesn't feel like himself.

He doesn't like it, but he tries anyway.

The people he loves deserve better.

He wonders what they’re doing right now.

He forces the thoughts aside. Missing them won’t get him home any faster.

Dick exhales slowly through his nose, letting the cool night air fill his lungs.

“You really look like Batman when you brood on rooftops,” a familiar voice teases from behind him. “But y’know. Without the ears and the cape.”

Dick snorts without turning around. “Please never compare me to Batman again.”

“I am vengeance!” Wally growls dramatically as he moves to stand in front of him, raising two fingers to the side of his head to mimic the cowl ears. “I am the night! I am Batman!”

Dick barks out a laugh, swatting at him. “Don’t let him hear you say that unless you want to be banned from the Manor forever.”

“He likes me too much to ban me,” Wally says confidently, folding his arms over his chest. 

Dick arches an eyebrow underneath his domino mask, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Who told you that lie?”

“Excuse me!” Wally gasps as he clutches his chest in mock offence. “I’ll have you know that Bruce said it himself. You’re just jealous.”

“I’m his son,” Dick muses, placing his hands on his hips. “Why would I be jealous of B liking you?”

“Who knows?” Wally retorts, shrugging with his arms raised. “Maybe he’ll decide I’m his favourite son.”

Dick scrunches his nose. “You’re an adult.”

“As if that'll stop him.” Wally taps his chin with a finger thoughtfully. “Or I could just marry you. Y’know, get that Wayne money. What’s the saying? Eat the rich?”

Dick stills.

For a brief moment, he forgets how to breathe. 

They’ve made jokes like this before, it’s nothing new— except they stopped only after Wally and Linda got together. 

Or maybe they’d never really stopped at all. Maybe Dick just wasn't the one hearing them anymore.

He forces a dramatic sigh. “You only like me for Bruce’s money.”

Wally wiggles his eyebrows, obvious even through the cowl. “You know it.” Then he inclines his head towards the city. “So, are we gonna patrol or what?”

“Keep up if you can,” Dick teases before throwing himself off the rooftop, Wally racing down the building in a flash of red and silver.

Patrol passes in a blur. They stopped a bunch of petty thefts, a mugging, and one unsuccessful attempt at robbing a convenience store.

By the time they’re done, Dick has almost managed to shove the joke to the back of his mind. 

It was just that— a joke.

They’ve always joked like that.

Best friends joke like that. 

…Right?

“Great work out there,” Dick praises as soon as Wally comes to a stop beside him. “And thanks, by the way. For helping out. Even though nothing major happened.”

Wally grins, knocking his shoulder against his. “‘Course, dude. Besides, I like patrolling with you.”

“You heading home?” Dick asks, head tilted slightly as he ignores the way his heart flutters at that.

Wally rubs the back of his neck, almost sheepishly. “Mind if I crash at yours instead?”

Dick blinks.

Wally has been coming over a lot lately— be it for patrol, a quick meal, or even a sleepover. 

He isn't sure when that happened— but Dick doesn't mind. Of course he doesn't. He can barely remember the last time he and Wally had spent time together without a reason.

But he’s grown increasingly uneasy about how often it happens.

And for the life of him, he can't remember exactly how often Wally came over or slept at his apartment the first time around.

Don’t get comfortable.

“Sure,” he agrees anyway. “You know I don’t mind having you over.”

Wally flashes him a grin. Then, he takes off toward Dick’s apartment alone. “Race you there!”

Dick watches the red and silver blur disappear into the distance.

He tries not to think too hard about it as he launches himself off the rooftop.

When he finally arrives at his apartment, Wally is already there as expected. He’s lounging on Dick’s bed wearing one of Dick’s hoodies, Dick’s laptop perched on his stomach as a movie plays on the screen.

“You’re late,” Wally says without looking up. Then he pats on the empty space beside him. “Go shower, then c’mere.”

Dick snorts, but obeys anyway, stripping out of his suit before grabbing a towel and heading straight for the bathroom.

He has to stop himself from thinking about how… easy this all feels.

Ten minutes later, Dick emerges from the bathroom to find Wally already snoring softly, the movie still playing on Dick’s laptop.

He stands in the doorway for a moment longer than he means to before forcing himself to look away, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

Someone’s watching him sleep.

Dick keeps his eyes closed for another second, listening for any sign of danger just in case— but there’s only the sound of steady, even breathing.

He cracks open an eye to find Wally looking at him.

Wally jerks his gaze away so quickly it almost looks like Dick imagined it. He offers a small, sheepish smile. “Good morning.”

Dick hums sleepily, his eye shutting again. “Mornin’.”

“I made coffee a while ago,” Wally tells him, draping a leg over his waist and pulling him closer. “It’s probably cold by now.”

Dick only nods in response, letting himself sink against Wally with a soft sigh. “Five more minutes.”

“You're lucky it's Saturday,” Wally snorts, gently patting Dick’s back. “But breakfast will definitely get cold if you don’t get up soon.”

Dick doesn't say anything. His eyes remain closed for a minute longer before he finally grunts, rubbing the sleep from them.

“Wh’cha get?” He mumbles.

“A little bit of everything,” Wally replies, ruffling Dick’s bed hair before rolling out of bed. “Better hurry, or I’ll eat it all.”

Dick groans softly to himself before forcing himself out of bed, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. He walks out the room to find his dining table covered in breakfast.

The sight twists something in Dick’s gut.

It reminds him of the alternate universe he’d woken up in a year ago— 

He shoves the thought away before it can even settle.

“Wow, you weren't lying,” Dick remarks, scratching absently at his bare chest as he drops into the chair opposite Wally. 

“I didn't know what to get for myself,” Wally says, stressing on the last word as he swats Dick’s hand away from a bagel. “Yours is the French toast. From your favourite café.”

“Oh,” Dick breathes, momentarily caught off guard. He hadn't realised Wally knew his favourite café. But a smile tugs at his lips anyway. “Thanks.”

Wally only offers a grin as a response. “I gotta get back to Keystone later,” he says, grabbing the bagel. “Patrol. Apparently one of my Rogues is stirring up trouble again.”

“Need a hand?” Dick asks, drizzling maple syrup over his French toast.

Wally tilts his head, considering it for a second. Then he waves him off. “I think I got it.”

Dick nods once before taking a bite into his food. 

Silence fills the air except the occasional clinks of cutlery. He lets himself enjoy the quiet before breaking it with, “So, how’re things with Linda?”

Wally’s expression immediately softens. “We’re doing better, actually. Slow, but better.”

“That's good,” Dick hums. “I’m glad you two are doing better.”

“Thanks to you.” 

“I just gave you advice,” Dick reminds him. “You did the hard part.”

“Still,” Wally says, pointing his fork at him. “You helped me see things from her perspective. I don't think I would've gotten there on my own.”

Dick looks down at his plate.

Funny.

He’d spent the last three weeks trying to help Wally find his way back to Linda. But somehow, hearing Wally thank him makes his throat tighten.

“What time are you leaving?” Dick asks instead.

“Hm...” Wally considers for a moment. “After breakfast, I guess.” He smirks playfully. “Why? Eager to finally get rid of me?”

Dick snorts. “As if I could ever get rid of you.”

“Exactly,” Wally chirps, stealing a piece of Dick’s French toast with his fork. “I’m hard to get rid of.”

Dick only huffs a laugh before nudging him beneath the table with his foot. “All this food on the table for you, and yet you stole mine.”

Wally shrugs. “Finders keepers.”

Dick rolls his eyes and steals a piece of Wally’s bagel in retaliation.

By the time breakfast is over, Wally is already speeding into his suit, standing by the front door. “I should get going.”

Dick hums from where he’s still finishing his breakfast, lifting a hand in farewell. “Be careful.”

Wally nods once, shooting him a smile. “Always.”

A second later, the apartment falls silent.

Dick rubs at his jaw as he leans back in his chair, chewing absently as his gaze drifts toward the chair Wally was occupying moments ago.

There’s a nagging feeling tugging at the back of his mind, and he can’t quite place it.

Wally had never been particularly fond of Blüdhaven. He’d joked about the city’s endless crime and the way it somehow made Gotham seem welcoming.

And yet, he’d been spending more and more of his free time here.

…Maybe Wally just needed the distraction. Maybe he just needed someone to lean on a little longer.

That’s gotta be it.

…Right?

Dick sighs quietly, taking a sip of his coffee as he tries to ignore the feeling that refuses to go away, his gaze settling on the abandoned mug Wally left behind.

Except…

Things with Linda are getting better. 

Wouldn't it make sense for him to be spending more time with her than with Dick?

So why was he here— sleeping over at his apartment, waiting for him to wake up and buying breakfast from Dick’s favourite café?

A café that he doesn't remember ever mentioning, least of all to Wally.

His mind drifts back over the past few weeks— Wally dropping by unannounced. Sleeping over on their days off. Nights ending with Wally tucked against his side. Mornings beginning with Wally somehow wrapped around him.

Every time Dick expected him to head back to Keystone, Wally had somehow found another reason to stay. 

Dick frowns.

Has he done this before?

Dick searched his memories, trying to remember.

Wally had always visited. Always dropped by unexpectedly. Sleepovers aren't exactly uncommon either.

…Maybe it happened. Maybe he just forgot.

Seven years is a long time. Maybe he was just overthinking it.

…But then why did it feel wrong?

Why did every instinct scream at him that something shifted? 

Unless…

Something did change.

Dick’s breath hitches.

No.

No, no, no.

Wally and Linda were getting back together. They are supposed to get back together.

This wasn't how it happened. 

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

Fuck. What had he done? 

He hadn't meant to change anything.

He’d been careful. He hadn't told Wally about the future. He hadn't told him about his feelings. He hadn't flirted. He hadn't—

Dick’s stomach drops.

He had stayed.

He had stayed because he was stupid enough to believe the little things he did to comfort Wally better wouldn't alter the timeline.

None of it was supposed to matter. 

But if it had…

Then he couldn't let it happen again.

Ever since it finally clicked, Dick had been trying to put as much distance between himself and Wally as possible.

He stops replying to texts as quickly. He claims he’s busy when Wally asks to patrol. He cuts movie nights short. He stops letting Wally fall asleep on him. He steps away when Wally reaches for him without thinking.

He hates every second of it.

But hating it doesn't make it any less necessary.

And sooner or later, Wally is going to notice.

He’s not stupid.

He’s certainly not oblivious.

So it’s no surprise when he opens the door to find Wally standing there.

“Okay,” Wally starts, and Dick already knows where this is going. God, he regrets answering. “What’s going on with you?”

Dick tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Wally points out, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“I’ve just been busy, that's all,” Dick lies smoothly, forcing his shoulders to relax. “You didn't do anything wrong, Wally.”

“Don’t,” Wally says sharply, his jaw tightening. “Don’t lie to me, Dick. You’re my best friend. I know when things are different between us.”

“And I’m telling you, there's nothing wrong,” Dick insists. Then, he sighs, running his hand through his hair before stepping aside to let Wally in. “Come in.”

Wally hesitates for only a moment before walking inside. 

Dick closes the door behind him, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as he silently counts to ten before following Wally into the living room, who has already made himself comfortable on the couch.

Dick sits in the armchair instead, creating a distance between them.

Wally’s eyes flick briefly to the empty space beside him on the couch before returning to Dick. “Is this about Linda?”

Dick blinks. “What?”

“You said I didn't do anything wrong,” Wally reminds him, studying Dick’s face as if trying to catch the lie. “So is this about Linda?”

“It’s about no one, Wally,” Dick replies evenly. “I told you. I’ve just been busy.”

“You’ve been busy before,” Wally says quietly. “I’ve seen you. But you’ve never avoided me.” Then, he adds, “So please don't lie to me, Dick.”

“I’m not lying, Walls,” Dick protests, leaning back against the armchair. He can't tell the truth, but he sure as hell can do what he does best— deflect. Hopefully. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Where’s this—” Wally cuts himself off, exhaling slowly through his nose. Then he starts counting on his fingers. “You stopped replying to my texts. You never ask me to patrol anymore. You stopped inviting me over.” He hesitates, his gaze dropping for a moment. “You don’t even let me… touch you anymore.”

Dick’s stomach drops.

“I didn't think it mattered,” he says weakly. 

“You didn't think it mattered?” Wally repeats, genuinely baffled. “Why— why wouldn’t it matter, Dick?”

Dick says nothing. 

Wally watches him for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. Dick glances away as Wally sits on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of him.

“Dick.”

He continues to avoid Wally’s gaze, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

A quiet sigh escapes Wally before warm fingers gently tip Dick’s chin up.

Dick’s breath hitches.

Part of him wants to recoil. The other traitorous part wants to lean into his touch— to forget the consequences and break the timeline.

He can’t.

He can’t.

“...Dick?”

His eyes flutter open— when did they close?— and he finds himself staring into Wally’s beautiful green eyes. 

They’re mesmerising. Too mesmerising.

Dick should look away before he does something stupid.

He doesn't.

Wally’s eyes flick down to his lips for the briefest second.

No.

Dick holds his breath as Wally leans in—

No.

…then hesitates.

His gaze snaps back to Dick’s eyes, as though he’d only just realised how close they’d become. A second later, Wally rests their foreheads together instead, eyes fluttering shut.

Somehow, it feels even more intimate.

The silence settles between them, stretching just long enough for Dick to hear Wally’s uneven breathing— or maybe it's his own— as his thumb absently brushes along Dick’s jaw.

“Talk to me,” Wally finally whispers. “Please.”

Dick shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “I can’t, Walls.”

Wally pulls away slightly, searching for something in Dick’s eyes as a flicker of hurt and confusion crosses his face. “Why?”

Dick looks away. “I just can’t.”

Wally’s brows furrow. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you.”

“Dick—”

“Please,” Dick cuts him off, his voice cracking around the edges. “Please don't make me explain.”

Because if he does, he won’t be able to stop. 

And if he can't stop— 

He’ll break the timeline for sure. 

Wally and Linda won't get married. Irey and Jai won’t exist. Everything they’re supposed to have… will disappear.

And it’ll all be Dick’s fault.

“Hey.”

A hand cups his face, pulling him out of his thoughts. Dick blinks, and Wally comes into focus again, concern— and something else— written all over his face.

Dick can't bring himself to meet his eyes for long.

“Dick,” Wally says slowly. “If you don't want me around… then just say it.”

Something in Dick’s chest shatters.

I love you, he wants to admit. 

I’m trying to save your future, he wants to confess.

“I think it’s best if we don't see each other for a while,” Dick says instead, his voice surprisingly even despite how tight his throat feels. 

Wally flinches, as if the words physically struck him.

He studies Dick’s face for a moment— and Dick can’t tell if he’s waiting for him to take the words back or trying to find the lie.

Dick forces himself to not look away.

“Is that what you really want?” Wally whispers.

No.

“Yes.”

Wally’s eyes linger on him for another second before—

“...Okay.” He stands, his hand falling to his side. Dick already misses the warmth, even though his skin still burns from it. “If that’s what you want.”

Dick watches him walk to the front door without looking back.

A part of him wishes that he would— but he knows the second Wally looks back, he’ll never let him leave.

The front door clicks shut—

And Dick crumbles to the floor, a broken sob escaping him before he can even stop it.

Dick stares blankly at the ceiling, rotting in bed with no desire to move.

He doesn't know how many days it’s been since Wally confronted him. Since he pushed Wally away in the hope that it’d save Wally's future. Since the apartment door clicked shut behind him. 

In the days that followed, Nightwing hadn't been seen swinging across the city. Dick can't eat without throwing up, and he can't sleep without seeing Wally’s face every time he closes his eyes.

When he gets back home— if he gets back home, Dick isn't sure how he’ll be able to face Wally again. Doesn't think he can face anyone, really, knowing what he’d done here.

Donna, apparently, disagrees.

Dick doesn't remember opening the door for her. She must've let herself in with the spare key Dick had given her in case of emergencies.

She's in the kitchen now, stubbornly preparing lunch as if feeding him will somehow fix whatever broke inside him, and Dick doesn't have the heart to tell her that he’s not sure anything can.

“Hey,” Donna greets softly as she steps back into the bedroom with a bowl in her hands. “I made soup.”

“Not hungry,” Dick rasps, his voice hoarse from disuse. He never takes his eyes off the ceiling.

“You’ve gotta eat,” Donna urges gently, setting the bowl down on his nightstand. “I’m not about to stand here and watch you starve yourself.”

Dick lets out a dry scoff. “Then you can sit down and watch me do it.”

“Dick,” Donna sighs, eyes studying him. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

“Well, luckily, I don't need your help,” Dick mutters, rolling onto his side with his back to Donna, as if doing so might make her disappear.

“Funny,” Donna shoots back. “You look like you do.”

“Just leave me alone, Donna.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Please.”

“You can push me away all you want, Dick,” Donna says, voice firm. “But I’m not leaving you. Not like this.”

Dick’s jaw tightens before he forces himself to exhale slowly through his nose. “Donna.”

“I’m not leaving you, Dick,” she stresses. “No one’s seen you around lately. You don't answer calls or texts— so forgive me for worrying about you.”

“I don't care,” Dick hisses without turning around. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“Because what you need is a friend!”

“I don't need anyone!” Dick snaps, sitting up so abruptly the blankets slide into his lap. “I just need to be left alone!”

Donna studies him for a long moment before she sighs quietly, her shoulders sagging. 

“No,” she says softly. “You just need someone to stay.”

Dick opens his mouth to argue back— but nothing comes out. He scrubs his hands over his face, a shuddering breath escaping him.

The fight drains out of him all at once. 

He just feels so… exhausted.

Judging from the way her expression softens, Donna seems to notice it. She sighs quietly and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling him into a hug.

Something inside finally gives.

He buries his face into Donna’s shoulder as the tears come, shoulders shaking with silent sobs while Donna rubs soothing circles between his shoulder blades. 

“You’re okay, Dickie,” she whispers, and something about the way she says it pulls another sob from him. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

It takes him minutes— or maybe hours— to finally calm down.

Dick doesn't remember when they ended up lying back in bed. One moment he was clinging to Donna like she was the only thing keeping him together, then the next, they were curled up together as Donna ran her fingers through his hair.

Neither of them speaks for a while.

Donna continues to run her fingers through his hair until his breathing finally evens out.

Eventually, she breaks the silence.

“Talk to me, Boy Wonder,” Donna says softly, pressing a faint kiss to his hairline. “It’s been a while since I last saw you cry like that.”

Dick sniffles, gently knocking his forehead against Donna’s jaw as he chooses his words carefully. “How…” He falters, hesitating. “How do you let go of someone who was never yours?”

“I don't know, Dickie,” Donna murmurs as she brushes a strand of hair away from his forehead. “I don't think there’s a right way to do it.”

Dick hums, absently picking at the edge of the blanket.

Then, quietly, Donna asks, “...Is this about Wally?”

Dick’s gaze drops to the blanket twisted between his fingers. There’s no point in lying to her. He sighs. “I told him we should stop seeing each other.”

Donna shifts slightly, just enough to look at him. “Why?”

“Because—” Dick cuts himself off, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Because I keep forgetting that he was never mine.”

Donna hesitates. “Did you…?”

“No,” Dick answers before she can finish. “God, no.” He exhales slowly through his nose. “But everyday—” His voice cracks. “Everyday I wanted to. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to stay.” He laughs once, bitterly. “But I can't.”

“Oh, Dick,” Donna breathes as she closes her eyes, her arms tightening around him. “You really did that to protect him.”

“I had to,” Dick whispers.

Because Wally deserved the life waiting for him. The marriage. The children. The future Dick already lived through.

Dick couldn't be the reason any of it disappeared.

And Wally was never— never— meant to fall for Dick.

But Donna doesn't know that. 

She only knows Dick is mourning someone who’s still alive. Someone he chose to lose.

She doesn't know he’s grieving the life they could've had.

“You don't have to tell me everything,” Donna whispers, pressing her cheek against his hair. “I’m here. I’ll stay as long as you need me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dick doesn't answer.

He isn't sure he deserves someone who refuses to leave after the way he pushed away the person he wanted to stay.

Donna stays anyway.

Dick closes his eyes.

For the first time in weeks, he lets someone else be his comfort.

But before he can even let himself relax in Donna’s embrace, something twists painfully in his chest. Dick bolts upright with a sharp gasp, one hand flying to his chest as his breathing turns ragged.

“Dick?” Donna immediately sits up, one hand already on his shoulder, the other reaching for his wrist. “Dick, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

He can’t answer.

The pain tears through him, white-hot beneath his skin. His vision blurs. The room tilts.

“Dick—!” 

The familiar skyline of Blüdhaven snaps back into focus.

Dick stumbles, boots skidding against the rooftop gravel as he barely catches himself on the ledge, chest heaving.

“...What the fuck,” he breathes, looking around wildly. He knows this rooftop. He remembers standing on it before getting thrown back to seven years into the past. “What the fuck?”

His comms crackle to life. “Nightwing? Nightwing— Dick, come in. Is that you? Please tell me it’s you.”

Dick runs his tongue over his teeth. “Oracle?” 

There’s a sharp inhale.

“Dick,” Babs whispers, sounding dangerously close to tears. “Fuck. You’re home.”

Dick barely remembers ending the call.

Babs had been saying something— telling him to stay where he was, that Bruce was on his way— but the words barely registered.

There was only one place he needed to be.

Wally.

He needed to know if he managed to preserve Wally’s future. Or if he’d destroyed it.

Dick swings toward the nearest zeta tube Bruce had installed all over the city just for him and punches in the code for Keystone. The teleporter hums to life almost instantly, and he steps through without a second thought.

The familiar pull of the zeta tube disappears almost as quickly as it comes. Dick stumbles out of it, barely waiting for the teleporter to power down before breaking into a run. His heart pounds painfully against his ribs.

He’s home.

He’s actually home.

But he won't truly believe it until he sees them— until he sees Wally, until he sees Linda, until he knows that the future he fought hard to protect is still waiting for them.

The city blurs around him as he grapples from rooftop to rooftop, muscle memory taking over where his rational thoughts fail him. He doesn't care if anyone notices Nightwing racing through Keystone at night. Let them wonder. Let Bruce yell at him later. Right now, none of it matters as much as reaching Wally.

Please.

Please let them be okay.

He lands on top of Wally’s apartment building harder than he intends, staggering a step before he catches himself. He doesn't bother with the stairs— he simply drops down to fire escape to fire escape until he reaches Wally’s floor.

Dick freezes.

The curtains are open as warm light spills into the evening. He can hear laughter— but he can't see who it belongs to from where he’s standing.

Dick’s heart lurches to his throat.

Then—

He raises a fist to knock.

Almost immediately, Wally— older Wally— comes into view with a slight frown. But the moment his eyes land on Dick, every trace of confusion disappears. His face goes completely blank for a beat before his eyes widen.

“...Dick?”

Before Dick can answer, Wally is already fumbling with the lock before throwing the door open, immediately pulling him into a hug.

“Oh my God,” Wally breathes, his arms around Dick so tightly it almost hurts. “You're here.”

Dick clutches the back of Wally’s shirt like his life depends on it, burying his face into his shoulder. “I’m here.”

Wally lets out a laugh that sounds dangerously close to a sob. “I thought—” He cuts himself off with a shuddering breath before tightening his grip. “You’re really here.”

But before he can say anything else, another voice comes in.

“Wally? Who's—” Linda walks around the corner and freezes, one hand flying to her mouth in surprise. “Oh my God, Dick?”

They’re okay.

They’re okay.

Relief crashes into him so hard his knees almost give out.

“Hey Linda,” Dick manages weakly.

She’s beside him a second later, pulling him into another hug the moment Wally lets go.

“Oh, Dick,” Linda breathes, gently patting the back of his head. Dick can't help but to relax further. “When Wally told me you disappeared…” She trails off, squeezing him once before pulling back just enough to look him over. “Are you alright?”

Dick nods automatically. “I’m okay.” 

His voice cracks anyway. 

Wally is still staring at him like he might disappear if he looks away. “...What happened?”

The question seems to drain whatever adrenaline had been keeping Dick upright, leaving him slumped against the couple. Wally catches him immediately while Linda steadies him by the waist, concern flashing across their faces.

“Sorry,” Dick whispers, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Understatement of the year.

Linda exchanges a quick glance with Wally before turning back to him. “Stay here for the night,” she suggests gently. “I’ll prepare the guest bedroom and some food for you.”

Dick doesn't think he can stay for that long, but all he manages is a weak nod.

Linda squeezes his bicep before disappearing further into the apartment as Wally leads him to the couch. 

Dick sinks into the cushions with a quiet sigh, peeling off his domino mask with a wince before letting it fall onto the couch. He drags a hand over his face, the days of sleepless nights finally catching up to him.

But Wally and Linda.

They’re together. They’ve worked things out. 

Maybe…

Maybe pushing Wally away had been worth it after all.

Maybe all those sleepless nights, the heartbreak, the guilt of watching Wally walk away believing Dick no longer wanted him around…

Maybe he managed to preserve the future anyway.

Hurting Wally had been worth it.

Dick could finally stop feeling guilty.

Then his gaze drifts around the apartment, tilting his head before his gaze settles on Wally again. “Where’s Irey and Jai? Usually they’d be the first to greet me.”

Wally blinks, and his brows slowly furrow. “...How do you know those names?”

Dick’s stomach drops.

Oh no.