---- From chapter 31, Text Me Back ----

R: I swear to you if you refer to me as mama, mommy, mother, or any other variation of mom one more time, I'm going to shoot you
W: Not in public I hope, Mama
D: You'd get in trouble then, Mom
R: I've always wanted to go to prison, so you brats better run well you can

----

The cars in the other lane hurried along the highway like lines of busy ants, with only a few gaps between them to show the slow drivers from reckless ones. Wally watched them longingly, his face pressed against the glass of Roy's beat up BMW. His eyes followed the cars until they disappeared out of sight, only to reset when the newest batch came speeding down the tarmac.

On their side of the highway, traffic inched forward at a snail's pace.

"RoyToy," Dickie started from Wally's side, eyes focused on the phone in his hands, "why don't you just kill the engine? You're wasting gas."

"You can't just- this is the 101, Dick," Roy replied, sounding oddly stressed, his knuckles going white as he gripped the steering wheel. Probably to avoid slamming the gas like he would have if not for the traffic they were stuck in, which was really the only reason Wally felt safe enough to be in the vehicle with Roy in the first place.

The first hour had been nice, a chance to sit and hang with his bros, uninterrupted? Sign Wally up. By the time they were drifting into the fourth hour, though...

"We haven't moved more than 5 inches in an hour, RoyToy," Dick insisted, not looking up from his screen. Wally couldn't relate- his phone had dwindled down past 7% ages ago and he was saving the rest of the battery for an emergency. "You're wasting gas."

There was silence for a moment, during which Wally busied himself by breathing on the glass of the window and drawing their superhero logos in the fog.

Then, "Barbara's environmentalist group would be very disappointing in you, RoyToy."

"Oh for fucks sake," Roy growled, reaching down and jerking the key to the side, successfully killing the engine. He twisted around in his seat, clicking his seatbelt off in one fluid movement, "If traffic starts again, I'm killing you."

"It's been five hours, Roy," Wally couldn't help but contribute.

"It's the 101," Roy snapped, sitting back in his seat with a huff. The car was stagnant under them.

Dick chuckled a little into his sleeve, entirely too happy with the temporary amusement he had found for himself.

The car in front of them rocked slightly, moving forward by such an insignificant margin that it wasn't even worth it. Glancing at all the glass around them, Wally distantly wondered if this is how goldfish felt.

He groaned. For a speedster, the slow pace was literal torture.

"I'm bored," he announced to the car.

"Hi bored, I'm-" Dickie started, only to be interrupted by Roy's tired exclamation of "Oh my God" as he reached across the car to pop open the glove box. A few napkins from various fast food restaurants and a probably stolen pen fell out, but Roy payed no mind, completely focused on withdrawing a flask from within the depths of the portable junk drawer.

"Oh, so you won't kill the engine on the off-chance traffic starts moving again but you'll drink alcohol?" Wally taunted immediately, watching as Roy took a few gulping sips from the silver flask.

"It's water," Roy snapped as soon as he had swallowed, screwing the lid back into place and throwing the small container onto the passenger seat.

"You keep water in a flask?" Dick challenged without missing a beat. Wally shot him a crooked grin.

"You guys know I don't own any other containers."

"Suuure, Roy, whatever you say. You're such a bad mom," Wally said, glancing at Dick out of the corner of his eye when he felt their hands brush against each other. After a moment, Dick intwined their fingers, apparently deciding he could play Subway Surfers with one hand and still beat Tim's highscore. Wally smiled at him this time, happily reciprocating the actions and trying not to overthink it. Whatever was going on between them was weird and he wasn't sure what they were going to do about it, but they definitely weren't going to figure it out while Roy was a whole two feet away angrily dusting his dashboard with an old sock.

"If I get drunk, Wally can drive," Roy replied, distractedly. "He has his license."

"That doesn't mean I know how to drive!" Wally cried out, jerking forwards in protest before getting caught on his seatbelt and forced back into his seat.

"That's exactly what that means!" Roy snapped back, turning around again to stare at him in indignation. He glanced down at their hands briefly, flashing Wally a knowing look, then threw the sock at Dick.

Wally undid his own seatbelt as Dick thrashed in disgust, curling up on the seat as far away from the dirty sock as he could get. Wally didn't bother hiding his laugh as he resettled against the warmed leather of Roy's backseat, trying not to think about what else could have gone down on the very spot he was sitting.

Cringing, all laughter suddenly gone, he glanced around in search of a distraction. His eyes went up, looking out the sunroof into the bright light of the afternoon sun. Such a nice day to spend trapped inside Roy's car.

At that moment, a seagull flew over, flapping its wings and screeching loudly.

"A bird! We're saved!" He cried, gesturing with both his and Dick's hands beyond the glass roof.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Roy asked, only to be ignored as Dick gasped like a side character in a Jane Austin novel who had just been told her dress was unbecoming.

"Roy, quick! If we get your bow, we can shoot it down!"

"Tonight we feast like kings!" Wally cried, throwing his other hand in the air too. The action pulled Dick against his chest, and they grinned at each other as Roy took another drink from the flask.

"You guys realize it's a seagull, right?" When he received nothing but expectant stares, Roy sighed. "Ok, kids, how about we play the quiet game?"

Dick, who had never been good at that game, immediately tried to divert Roy's attention away from the idea, "You can't complain about us calling you mom and then say shit like that," a pause for dramatic effect, "mother."

Wally waited in silence before Dick elbowed him, "Oh! Uh, can we play ISpy instead, mommy?"

Roy tipped his head back, drowning the last of whatever had been in the flask, then spoke, "Fuck you guys, we're playing the quiet game. So shut up."

Dick immediately switched apps on his phone, opening it to their group chat. Roy narrowed his eyes at him, searching for his own phone and typing fast enough to send the message before Dick had finished crafting his own.

R: I swear to you if you refer to me as mama, mommy, mother, or any other variation of mom one more time, I'm going to shoot you

They both got to see Dick's thumbs pause above the screen before he started pressing the backspace button, and Wally stifled a laugh as he drew out his own phone. Brightness all the way down to conserve battery, he squinted at the screen as he typed.

W: Not in public I hope, Mama
D: You'd get in trouble then, Mom

Wally glanced up in time to see a number of emotions flicker across Roy's face, before his expression settled on vaguely-disturbed and largely-murderess. He pressed the screen so hard they could hear the impact of his thumbs and the poor keyboard.

R: I've always wanted to go to prison, so you brats better run well you can

Dick looked up at that, too, flashing Roy a nervous grin when he caught sight of his ready-to-kill expression. Wally, wisely, realized that it hadn't been the best idea to egg Roy on when they were trapped in a confined space with him, but Dick had no such inkling.

Wally could tell before Dick had even opened his mouth that he was about to doom them both, so he started inching his hand towards the door handle.

All sharp white canines and gleaming eyes, Dick smiled, "Now, RoyToy, let's be civilized about this-" Wally grasped the handle- "we could call you daddy, if you'd pref-"

Wally grabbed the front of Dick's shirt at the same time Roy lunged for them, opening the car door and all but falling out into the street, barely sparing a moment to be thankful they had the end lane and there was no car to hit when the door swung open.

Roy was probably yelling something behind them, but Dickie had slammed the door shut and his hand was in Wally's again and the sun was shining and nothing else mattered.

At least, until they heard the open-shut of another door and turned back to find an angry Roy marching after them.

Wally took the lead in running, unable to use his speed in front of so many witnesses but still a good deal faster than the average teen, Dick keeping up easily enough a step behind him, their hands swinging in the air between them.

Wally's call of "Roy you can't just-" was overshadowed by Dick yelling, louder, "Come and get us, daddy."

Wally ran faster.