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The Batwing hums steadily, the kind of quiet that invites bad decisions.
Dick’s lying back, eyes half-lidded, clearly supposed to be resting. Wally’s sitting way too close for someone who claims he’s “just checking.”
“You know,” Wally says, glancing at the ceiling, “this is the third time we’ve nearly died together this month. At some point it stops being coincidence.”
Dick opens one eye. “You’re saying we have a hobby.”
“An intimate hobby,” Wally adds. “Very trust-based.”
Dick exhales a laugh. “Please stop using that tone.”
“Can’t,” Wally says cheerfully. “It’s my near-death voice.”
Dick tilts his head slightly. “That explains a lot.”
Wally leans closer, grin sharp. “Also explains why you keep letting me in your personal space.”
“Pretty sure that’s a medical requirement.”
“Funny,” Wally says. “Usually you make me earn that.”
Dick groans. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Wally says, “you’re still here.”
Dick opens his eyes fully, looks at him. “Unfortunately.”
Wally’s grin softens for half a second—then turns wicked again. “So. When you’re cleared for activity—”
Dick doesn’t let him finish. “Define ‘activity.’”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“Wally.”
“Dick.”
There is a very deliberate pause.
Batman clears his throat from the cockpit.
Both of them freeze.
“…Activity?” Batman says flatly.
Roy, lying back with arms behind his head, groaned. “Why do I even ride with you guys?”
Wally straightens so fast he almost headbutts the ceiling. “Sir. That was. Uh. A joke.”
Dick closes his eyes. “A bad one.”
Roy mutters quietly, “You two are hopeless.”
Batman doesn’t turn around. “Whatever you’re implying—”
“We’re implying nothing!” Wally blurts.
“—is not happening,” Batman continues, “on my aircraft.”
Wally winces. “So… postponed?”
Batman finally looks back.
The look could cauterize steel.
Wally swallows. “I’ll stop talking now.”
“Good,” Batman says.
Beat.
Wally leans in just enough to whisper, “Still worth it.”
Dick smiles.