runningstart | MASK OR MENACE IC INBOX

MASK OR MENACE IC INBOX

WALLY WEST
"You've reached the personal voice mail of the Wall-man. The honor is yours! Leave your deets, I'll holla back atcha."
[ BEEP. ]

KID FLASH
"This is the contact for Kid Flash. If it's an emergency, call Robin; he'll know where I am. Otherwise, leave your info and I'll get you back ASAP."
[ BEEP. ]

[ voice | text | email | action ]

( Please specify in tag subject line if the contact is for Wally West or Kid Flash! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Curiosity killed the cat, Wally.

... Okay, that was a bad choice of phrase.

No one is going to die. For the record.

v. reassuring

ill be home in a couple hrs pls dont blow it up

If I die, delete my browser history.

ok dude ill publish ur browser history w/e you want buddy

I hate you.

love u 2 buddy 4 life

[and a couple hours later-]

i cant find the last book

[ It's a long minute before he responds. ]

Are you sure?

70% sure

[which means he hasn't asked for help looking for it and probably won't]

[ you're too obvious, Wally. ]

Okay, fine. I'll live without it. What about the others?

do u doubt me son
did i just hear some doubt come outta your mouth

I heard 70% come out of yours.

touch

dammit phone i meant touche

Go touche yourself.

SILENCE

ill be home in a couple minutes clean up any blood and hide the bodies

Wait, a couple like two or a couple like ten?

a couple like im home now

[Wally throws open the door and drops his bookbag with Robin's books inside on the ground next to the door.] Honey, I'm home!

[He heads over toward the kitchen.]

[ It was supposed to be easy. One chocolate cake from a box. Mission: Feed Wally.

He’d stressed himself out so much while Dick was gone — more than Dick had worried for him, and a part of him wondered whether that meant Wally was just a better friend than he was. That, on top of Wally tracking him down in Europe — he’d put Wally through a lot. He was too cold sometimes, too analytical. It smacked of all the things he’d started hating most about the role he’d fallen into.

So this was his attempt to be different. Better. More… open. Grateful. He’d never baked before, but how hard could it be? People did it all the time. He was a genius. He could handle a cake.

But it didn’t rise right, even when he left it in the oven for 20 extra minutes — just hardened and smoked, an uneven mess with lumps rising to the surface. There’s a first time for everything, he’d tried to tell himself as he scraped the remains down the sink.

The second one he’d started from scratch, from a recipe he’d found on the internet. But the ingredients hadn’t mixed right, or he’d done it in the wrong order, or added too much or too little of something. The batter hadn’t looked right, but he didn’t exactly have a wealth of culinary experience. Maybe it would fix itself in the oven. Maybe.

He remembers his dad cooking for his mom on the tiny stove in their train car. Was it her birthday? Their anniversary? He can’t remember, but he remembers the way Dad had told him that you can have all the fancy ingredients in the world, the most expensive kitchen, but what really made food delicious was love. Dick had wrinkled his nose in eight year old disbelief. ‘One day you’ll see,’ Dad had said.

The third cake sets off the fire alarm, and the fourth splits right down the middle, the center of it a molten, unbaked chocolate disaster.

Dick’s trying his best, but each failure chips away at his self-confidence, and the harder he tries the worse it gets. Because it’s not about the cake anymore; not really. Robin’s a super-genius ninja superhero, and Dick Grayson is a mathlete and a spoiled rich kid and a former circus freak, and he needs to believe that maybe somewhere in the middle there’s still a normal teenager. He can hack into spy satellites, he can swing from skyscrapers, he can do advanced calculus in his head, so why can’t he bake Wally one stupid cake?

The fifth and final attempt is in the oven when Wally gets home. Dick’s perched on the counter next to the stove, phone still in hand and legs dangling off the edge. Bags of ingredients are depleted around him, sugar and batter streaking the counter and flour on his designer jeans. The kitchen is a disaster area. He looks up at Wally apologetically as he enters the kitchen. ]

I don’t think I’m cut out for this.

...dude. [Wally surveys the damage with a critical eye and slowly sets the back of groceries on the counter. He meanders over to the sink and gingerly picks out a ruined cake pan, probably beyond salvaging. It should just be thrown away.]

I was gonna laugh when I came in, like I was all ready for it. [Not sure he should be laughing now. Maybe if Dick looked more embarrassed than he did depressed, sure, laughing at your best friend when he's humiliated is part of the gig. This is different though.]

You can still laugh. It's pretty bad.

[ He'd kind of thought cake pans were indestructible. Lessons were learned today. ]

Nah. [Wally picks the worst of the pans out of the sink and tosses them into the garbage.] So, is there a reason for this destruction, or...?

[ He shrugs stiffly, hopping down off the counter and shoving his hands in his pockets. This had all sounded better in his head, back when he'd thought he'd have an actual finished product to present, instead of chocolate flavored carnage.

He steels himself. ]

It was supposed to be for you. Which— yeah, I know. Like I said, you can laugh.

You...were baking a cake. For me. [Wally slowly removes the groceries from the bag, giving Dick a befuddled look over the counter.] Should I ask why you wanted to bake me a cake, or should I ask why you didn't just buy me one instead?

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ACTION

ACTION - or, a brief novel about cake batter and existential despair.

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