Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Body upright, legs straight.

Arms across his chest, hands touching his shoulders.

Like the folded wings of a bird.

Eyes closed.

Dick takes a deep breath, as he stands in the centre of the ice and waits for the music to begin. Then the first slow, melancholic notes of Moonlight Sonata ring through the arena, Dick opens his arms, and he begins to glide across the ice, gathering speed in his first movements to prepare for his first element. THE element.

The quad Axel.

Placed at the transition from the fourth into the fifth bar of Beethoven’s iconic music, it’s the element to set the standard right the beginning of the programme. If he nails it, Dick knows he’s going to nail the entire programme. If he does not, well…

Going out of the choreographic transition, he turns forward, swings his arms and takes off. Yet, as soon as Dick is in the air, he knows that something is wrong.

His rotational axis is slightly off, which distracts him enough to lose control over the momentum of his jump. Trying to salvage it, Dick ends the element in a step out – which still is not enough to prevent him from landing his famous behind on the ice.

Dick lets out a quick sigh of frustration. Not again. Then he gets up to perform the rest of his programme.

The remainder of his elements work fine, even though Dick knows that he’s not executing them nearly as well as he can, but he can’t help it. Every time he misses the opening quad Axel, his heart ceases to be in the programme and he just goes through the motions. Granted, if you’re Dick Grayson, going through the motions still puts you comfortably ahead of 99 percent of your competition.

But 99 percent is not enough if you want to become the youngest Olympic champion ever in men’s figure skating at mere 17 years of age.

When he reaches his final pose and the music comes to a halt, his coach Selina skates towards him, an exasperated expression on her face. “Okay, Dick, time out. You can’t let one botched element get in the way of the entire programme.“

“But it’s not just any botched element“, he whines, doubling over. “The Axel will make or break the Olympics, and you know it.“

“I know. But the rest of the programme will be just as important. Especially if you miss the Axel. That’s why I don’t stop my students’ programmes when they make mistakes. It’s vital that you keep going and don’t let one misstep deter you from the bigger picture. Hey, Dick, look at me.”

He finally pulls himself up and meets his coach's sharp glance. “If you skate full out, your GOE and PCS are higher than anyone else’s on the planet. Don’t throw those points away. Not at the Olympics.”

Dick looks away, unable to bear the piercing stare of his coach’s green eyes. He knows she is right. In many ways, Dick is the perfect textbook figure skater. Not only does he possess incredible jumping technique, thanks in no small part to his circus upbringing which made him naturally athletic. But he also has skating and performance skills to match his jumps and an inherent sense of musicality and artistry. Most skaters are either great athletes or great artists; Dick is the rare skater who is both, truly embodying the best of both worlds. Not many skaters could pull off a free programme to Moonlight Sonata at 17 and not look completely silly and in over their heads, but Dick definitely can. Nobody is more balletic on the ice than him. Nobody has deeper knees and edges than him.

So, all things considered, he should be bursting with confidence right now at his own potential.

And yet…

Distracted by his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice Selina laying a hand on his shoulder and looking at him more kindly until she says, “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Dickie. We all have our off days, even the Boy Wonder. You know you have everything it takes. If you miss the Axel,  it's not because of something physical, but something in there." She pokes his forehead. "Take a break, calm yourself down, and then try again.”

“Thanks Selina”, Dick says, giving her a small but sincere smile and skates over to the board of the rink where he puts on his skate guards, grabs his bottle of water and climbs up a couple rows of benches to have a better view of the ice.

The Gotham Ice Park actually consists of multiple ice rinks that are simultaneously used for multiple purposes. Usually, there’s one rink open to the public, one that is used for hockey training, where Dick’s 14-year-old brother Jason is probably shooting pucks across the ice right now, and one rink that is usually reserved for the elite figure skaters and their head coach Victor Fries, who had  the idea for the Ice Park years ago and quickly turned Gotham into a figure skating power house. Fries is a legend in his own right, having won Olympic gold in pairs in the 60s and becoming one of the most esteemed coaches after his retirement – esteem that certainly helped him raise the funds for the impressive complex. Though the old gentleman no longer coaches himself, he still shows up at the rink every now and then to see how the next generation is doing. For a young skater, being accepted to the Fries Academy is a bit like receiving a knighthood from the King of England. 

So when circus prodigy Dick Grayson was adopted by Bruce Wayne - who'd donated a large part of the funds to build Gotham Ice Park -  following the tragic death of the boy's parents and the young orphan timidly voiced his interest in figure skating, there was no question of where he would go. Plus, as soon as the eight-year-old stepped on the ice and got his first lessons from former Olympic medallist Selina Kyle, any grumblings about Dick only getting into the Academy because of Bruce Wayne's money flew out the window. Dick was a natural, just as much a Boy Wonder on the ice as he was on the trapeze, and soon enough he started racking up medals and trophies all by himself.

In the here and now, the Boy Wonder takes a long sip of water and then focuses his attention on the ice where Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas just assumed the opening pose of their short programme, before the infectious beat of Justin Timberlake’s Rock your body starts to boom through the sound system. Steph and Duke are still juniors and therefore not eligible yet for the Olympics, but with the way that their career is going, they will definitely be contenders for pairs in four years. They already won bronze at Junior Worlds last season and are improving with every competition. You can’t help but fall in love with their joyous exuberance that they bring to every performance, even in training, and Dick finds himself grinning like an idiot at Steph’s face when she nonchalantly lands the huge triple twist like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Also on the ice right now is Cassandra Cain. Unlike most other skaters at Fries Academy, she does not have any Olympic prospects in mind. Cass does solo dance, which is unfortunately not an Olympic discipline. Yet. If it were, though, she’d be walking away with the gold medal, for sure. Dick has never seen anyone glide across the ice more elegantly and gracefully than her, and that’s saying a lot coming from him. She’s already won Nationals twice in a row and will undoubtedly make it three this season. And what’s even crazier is that at 15 years of age, she’s already choreographing much of her material herself. Dick envies the skaters of the future who will be allowed to dance her choreos.

A door opening to his right makes Dick’s turn and he sees Barbara Gordon enter the stands and wheeling her way towards him. Seeing the red-haired woman in her wheelchair still breaks Dick’s heart, even after all the months he’d had to get used to it.

Barbara is two years older than him and had already been a senior while Dick was still competing as a junior. A silver medallist at Worlds, she had arguably been the US’s greatest talent in women’s singles in years, as one of the few non-Russians girls to  land a quad past her puberty, and had been tipped for great success at the upcoming Olympics. But then a horrific car accident the summer prior to Dick’s first senior season left her paralysed and crashed any Olympics she may have had. The entire Figure Skating world had been devastated, but nobody more so than Dick himself, who had grown as close to Babs as a guy and a girl could without actually dating. The day he’d first visited her in the hospital had been perhaps been the most difficult since the funeral of his parents all those years ago.

Yet even then, she had managed to crack some jokes, despite the horror of the situation. “Promise me you wear something red at the Olympics, Dickiebird, okay?”, she’d grinned. “Somebody’s gotta bring some colour onto that ice if it’s not me.” The memory still brings a smile to his face – and gave Dick no choice but to pick a red costume for his “Fly Robin Fly” short programme this season.

What’s more, being the trooper that she is, Babs hasn’t let tragedy define her, and has found a different way to bring her many talents into Fries Academy: by becoming a masterful music editor. She’s always been a tech prodigy, so now, no skater from Gotham, including Dick himself, steps on the ice without a music edit courtesy of Ms Gordon herself, aka DJ Oracle.

“Hey Boy Wonder!”, she smiles at him.

“Hey Babs”, he attempts to smile back at her halfheartedly.

“Hmm”, she ponders, wheeling closer towards him. “A mildly grumpy Dick Grayson in the stands rather than on the ice with everybody else. Let me take a guess. The Axel.”

“Yup”, Dick answers shortly, popping the p in annoyance.

“Aha”, Barbara comments drily.

When the black-haired boy remains silent, she continues, “May I kindly remind you that you comfortably won both of your Grand Prix assignments even without the Axel?”

“Only because he was not there”, Dick mumbles under his breath.

“Oh. Of course”, she deadpans. “He. How could I possibly forget?”

The He in question is Wallace ‘Wally’ West, the superstar of male skating from Keystone City. Three years Dick’s senior, West has dominated the sport for the past Olympic cycle, winning two world titles back-to-back. He had been well on his way to the third last year when none other than Dick, in his first season as a senior, had caused the upset of the century by landing the first ever quad Axel in competition and winning gold with a record-breaking score. West’s inevitable Olympic triumph of all of a sudden seemed no longer certain and the press promptly pronounced the Battle of the Bird and the Flash, pitting the two skaters’ nicknames against each other.

That had been in March last year. Since then, Dick and Wally haven’t competed against one another – and Dick also hasn’t been able to land the quad Axel again, which has caused some debate online whether his performance at Worlds was just a fluke. The two had been set to go head-to-head again at the Grand Prix Final in December, but a shoulder injury had forced Dick to withdraw, which paved Wally’s way to an easy win and a new personal best, while Dick had to sit around at home and do nothing but watch. And now, in January, there are only two weeks left until Dick will go up against Wally again for the first time since Worlds at US Nationals, and everybody is waiting with bated breath for the rematch that could potentially predict the Olympic title.

The weird thing about the West situation is that in spite of it all, Dick cannot even bring himself to hate him. On paper, Wally is the only skater who could challenge Dick for the Olympic title. He may not be as artistically gifted as Dick and hasn’t attempted the quad Axel yet either, but the consistency of his other jumps is second to none and his incredible speed on the ice deservedly earned him the nick name Flash.

Still, although he is the only potential threat to Dick’s Olympic dream, Dick does not feel the kind of resentment towards his ginger rival that the media try to instigate between them. Even at Worlds, when Dick had shocked the Figure Skating community (and himself) to its very core and had given West his first defeat in three years, the 20-year-old had surprisingly shown nothing but kindness and respect towards Dick which made it simply impossible to dislike him. And Dick knows enough about performance to tell that Wally’s friendliness was not the kind of fake friendliness that you only put on for the cameras.

No. Wally West’s friendliness was sincere.

Which begs the question: why?

Why had he been so nice to Dick?

Why doesn’t he hate Dick?

Why doesn’t Dick hate him?

...

And why do Wally’s freckles look so goddamn cute whenever he smiles?

And he does smile a lot. Which Dick would only know from following him on Instagram and liking every one of his posts.

Which he totally doesn’t.

Just like Wally totally doesn't follow him back.

Because what kind of rival would do that. Right?

Lost in thoughts he should not have, Dick startles when Barbara leans forward in her chair and grabs his hands.

“Dick, you beat him at Worlds last season. You’re gonna beat him again at the Olympics. Simple as that. Case closed.”

“His score at the Grand Prix final beats both of my Grand Prix scores”, he answers with resignation in his voice, “and now he’s got all the momentum going into Nationals.”

Barbara rolls her eyes, before replying, “Richard John Grayson, you know very well that you can’t compare different competition scores unless we’re talking ice dance. If you skate perfectly, nobody in the world can beat you. Not even Wally West.” She squeezes his hands encouragingly.

“But I’m not skating perfectly right now! I haven’t nailed the Axel once since Worlds.”

“Because you’re still recovering from a minor shoulder injury. Every body’s recovering from something all the time, that’s completely normal in this sport. Listen, Dick. You sat out the Grand Prix Final to not take any risks and focus on Nationals instead, which was absolutely the right choice. You’ll have many more Grand Prix Finals in the future but the Olympics don’t come around that often. You’re getting better and better every day, and it’s only a matter of time until the quad Axel is back on track.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, but looks forlornly into the distance. Narrowing her eyes inquisitively, Barbara stares at her best friend for a long, silent moment. Eventually, she says, “Unless this isn’t about the quad Axel.”

“Huh?” Dick turns his head back to her, perplexed.

“Maybe your trepidation about meeting West again isn’t at all about the competition.”

“What are you talking about?”, Dick asks, growing more confused with every word Barbara is saying. Then the red head’s unreadable expression turns into a grin.

“Don’t act like I didn’t see that whisper of a blush on your face when he talked about you during that press conference at Worlds. The same blush blooming on your pretty little cheeks right now, might I add. You’re lucky the cameras were focusing on him and not you, but you can’t hide a crush like that from the Oracle.”

“Don’t be silly, Babs, I don’t have a crush!”, Dick tries to deflect as his cheeks grow as red as his best friend’s hair.

“Oh I’m definitely not the one being silly right now”, Barbara smirks. “I’ve always been surprised at how well you two get along anyway, considering that you’re rivals for gold.”

“So what?” Dick murmurs, looking pointedly at his hands, which are still being held by Barbara. “Just because we’re fighting for the same thing and only one of us can get it, doesn’t mean I have to hate him…”

“OH MY GOD, SO YOU DO HAVE A CRUSH!!!”, Barbara squeals.

“Will you please shut up?!”, Dick hisses, his head spinning around so fast to see if anyone heard them that he thinks he might get whiplash. Luckily, Steph and Duke's music has drowned out any incriminating echoes.

When he’s certain nobody heard them, Dick goes on.

“Okay, so maybe I’m not completely … I don’t know… appalled by the idea of …  liking him.” Finally he’s able to meet Barbara’s eyes, who looks at him in understanding and sympathy.

“And you only realized it at Worlds, after which the two of you didn’t compete against each other again, and now you’re worried that it will distract you so much that you bomb both Nationals and the Olympics.”

“EXACTLY!!!”, Dick exclaims, the relief of finally speaking to somebody about this mess bursting out of him like a firework on New Year's Eve.

The issue isn’t his sexuality itself. Everybody knows he’s gay – even though he never ‘officially’ came out. Perks of winning Junior Worlds at age 15 with a Lady Gaga free programme.

The issue is that Dick has a fucking crush on his number one rival for the Olympic gold medal.

“Knowing you”, Barbara continues hesitantly, “I assume I’m the first person that you’re telling this.”

“Second. Dinah was the first, actually. Sorry.” Dick smiles bashfully at her. “But she told me not to bottle things up inside.”

Barbara squeezes his hands again. “Don’t apologize, you know you can talk to me about anything. But Dinah’s right. Don’t you think that it might be good idea to speak to Bruce about this?”

Now it’s Dick’s turn to deadpan.

“Because Bruce Wayne is such an expert on emotional self-care?”

Neither of them can hold back laughter at the suggestion.

“Besides”, Dick continues when he’s composed himself again, “he’s still so busy right now with Little D anyway that I don’t want to add any more stress onto him.” Dick’s lips turn into a gentle smile, thinking of the youngest addition to his ever-growing family. Training for the Olympics while also being the oldest of four brothers whose ages range from 17 to 1,5 is a challenge even at the best of times, but Dick's always been a family person, and he wouldn't want it any other way.

“But Dick, if it’s something that’s bothering you like this, then you need to open up to somebody that isn’t just your best friend or your sports psychologist but somebody in your family. I’m sure it will make you feel better.”

“Hmm”, he considers Barbara’s advice for a moment. “Maybe you’re right.

Then he adds with a wider smile, “I’m overdue for another afternoon tea with Alfred anyway.”

"See? You know what they say." Barbara smirks at him. "The Oracle is always right."

Chapter Text

Darkness has fallen by the time Dick makes it back to the Manor. With an exhausted sigh he lets himself in through the massive oak doors of the stately house, hangs up his jacket on the coat rack and puts down his duffel bag. Still, as soon as he hears the sound of voices drifting over to him from the dining-room next door, a smile creeps onto his face and he walks through the doorway opposite him.

As expected, his family is still seated around the table, with Bruce at the head and Talia, holding little Damian in her lap, on his right. Jason and Tim and seated on Bruce’s left and, as usual, are bickering about something doubtlessly trivial again, until Bruce’s “Hey chum!” makes their heads shoot up. “Dick!”, the 14- and 10-year-olds both call out in unison.

Nothing like a big brother to make the younger brothers bury their hatches, Dick thinks happily, as he walks over to hug his dad. Then he gives Talia a kiss on the cheek, receiving a melodic, “Hello, my dear boy” as a greeting, and turns his attention to the 17-month-old bundle of cuteness in her hands, who’s already reaching his tiny hands towards Dick.

“Ooohhh, where’s my Little D?”, Dick coos as he picks up the toddler.

“DIDI!”, Damian squeals excitedly at the sight of his oldest brother and favourite person in the Manor beside his mother. 'Didi' was the first ‘word’ that Damian uttered, which Dick likes to think was a result of him constantly calling the dark-haired baby Little D. Seeing how happy his smallest brother is to be held and coddled by him, Dick feels slightly bad at how little time’s had to spend with his family recently, especially with Damian. In truth, Dick cannot say why exactly he has such a special bond to his brother. It’s not like he loves Jason and Tim any less. And yet the 17-year-old seems to have a connection with the toddler that is unique from everybody else.

When Bruce first introduced Talia to his sons, none of them had expected his relationship with the Arabian model, whom he’d met on a business trip, to last much longer than his previous affairs had in the past. But as the months went by, it became apparent that this time things were serious, and step by step, they all warmed to the beautiful woman who’d seemed almost too otherworldly at the beginning to be real. Behind her gorgeous façade, there was actually a warm, strong, and very grounded personality.

So by the time the inevitable engagement announcement came along, Dick and his brothers were all more than excited. For years, the idea of living together with a step mum had seemed absurd to them, offensive even. But not anymore. Dick got a second mother figure in his life – in addition to the one on the ice courtesy of Selina Kyle – and Gotham City got a celebrity wedding for the ages. Even though Dick hasn’t brought himself to call Talia ‘Mum’ just yet, it’s only a matter of time, the way that their relationship continues to grow and strengthen.

After the wedding, it did not take much longer for Talia to announce her pregnancy, and this time the tears of happiness that Dick had been able to hold back during the wedding ceremony flowed freely. Dick has always been a family person, but as much as he loves Jason and Tim, he regrets that he couldn’t be there for them when they were still toddlers. His parents had always talked about giving Dick a sibling to be an older brother to. But then, fate had played Dick the cruellest trick in the world. Now, though, the dream that Dick had almost completely abandoned was about to come true. Dick was about to have a baby brother!

And now that brother is all of 17 months old and patting Dick’s cheeks like they are his new favourite toys, provoking a chuckle from the young man.

A chuckle that almost makes Dick forget the nasty racist comments that some people left under the first photo that Dick posted of himself and Damian on the latter’s first birthday.

‘Look at their stupid grins! I bet the gipsy circus fag is happy that he’s no longer the only freak in that family!

He almost forgets.

But not quite…

“Hahaha, okay, Little D, let’s get you back to your yumma, shall we?”, Dick laughs and gingerly hands the toddler back to his mother. Then he moves to the other side of the table and ruffles his younger brothers’ hairs to various noises of giggling (in the case of Tim) and fake outrage (in the case of Jason).

“How was training, Chum?”, Bruce asks into the brotherly teasing.

The question that Dick dreaded more than any other. Bruce is far from being an overbearing dad who ever pressures Dick into anything. On the contrary. Bruce has been nothing but supportive of every one of Dick’s endeavours since the day he moved into the Manor all those years ago. Still, taking in the plate-free state of the table and the sound of the dishwasher in the kitchen, Dick figures that the one person that he does want to talk to right now is elsewhere.

“Uhm, well, it was – ˮ

“Oh, Master Richard, you are back, how good to see you!” Luckily, the person that he wants to speak enters the room that very instant, a chequered apron covering his pristine suit. “Have you eaten something? We’ve already cleared away dinner, but I’d be more than happy to heat up some of the leftovers, if you’d like?

“Thanks, I already ate with the team in town.” Dick answers bashfully. A few years ago, he would not have dared to admit to the butler that he’d eaten somewhere else, rather than indulging in the famous cuisine of the British gentleman which is second to none. But after years of extra hours spent at Gotham Ice Palace, Alfred has made his peace with the atypical schedule of an elite figure skater.

“But actually”, Dick continues with his brothers’ eyes on him, “I was wondering if I could, uhm, have a cup of tea with you, Alfred?”

A beat of silence, during which Dick doesn’t miss the knowing glances that Alfred, Bruce, and Talia share between themselves. At Wayne Manor, ‘having tea with Alfred’ is code for ‘I have something that I need to get off my chest and I’d rather do it with wise old Mr Pennyworth rather than with emotionally constipated Bruce Wayne.’

It’s not like Dick could never have an emotionally profound conversation with his dad. But sometimes it’s easier to break the ice with Alfred first, and then bring Bruce into the picture when the ice has already begun melting.

And admitting that you crush on your greatest Olympic rival definitely belongs in that category…

“Okay boys”, Bruce speaks up more loudly than he normally would, “let’s go upstairs and check your homework.”

“WHAT! WHY?!”, Tim complains.

“You know very well that my English essay is perfect as always”, Jason frowns, clearly offended by the idea that his homework might require parental proof-reading.

“Then there shouldn’t be any problem in me having another look at it, now, should there?”, Bruce smiles back at his second-oldest son in a way that Dick knows will make Jason seethe inside.

“But will Dickie some see us later?”, Tim pleads as both brothers turn towards him with large expectant eyes.

“Of course I will, Timbers”, Dick grins, ruffling the 10-year-old’s hair. “I’ll wanna hear all about your training today.”

“Right, then”, Bruce declares, pushing back his chair as he stands up and gestures towards the door. “Off you go!”

With disappointed mumbles, Jason and Tim follow Bruce’s order and leave the dining-room. Dick’s heart aches ever so slightly, watching his brothers trudge upstairs reluctantly. He knows that it’s tough for them, being the younger brothers of a world-famous athlete who’s constantly in the spot light and overshadowing them. Especially for Jason. Yet it’s also a sign of their characters that they haven’t let Dick’s fame sour their relationship towards him. Dick’s career in figure skating may have been part of the reason why Jason opted for hockey instead – so as to not cause any more Boy Wonder comparisons than he already does by merely existing – but in Dick’s opinion the brute forcefulness of hockey was always a better choice for Jay anyway than the elegant artistry of figure skating. They bicker and argue like all siblings do, and will curse each other to the moon and back at Mario Kart, but at the end of the day, they love each with every fibre of their being, and that counts more than any medal ever will.

Talia now stands up with Damian in her arms who’s curiously looking around at all the commotion in the room. With a soft squeeze of Dick’s shoulder, she asks him, “Will you be alright, Dick?”

“I will be”, he tries to smile back at her.

“Bruce and I will be upstairs if anything is the matter”, she replies reassuringly, her dark eyes full of warmth and concern.

“Thanks, Talia, I appreciate it.”

Dick gives the hand on his shoulder another squeeze, then Talia lets go of him and follows her husband outside of the room, the bundle in her arms reaching over her shoulder to call out “DiDi!”

The sound of porcelain next to him makes Dick startle. Alfred is standing in the door frame to the kitchen already, two large cups of tea in his hand.

“Earl Grey with a touch of milk? I was so presumptuous as to not ask you whether you would like anything else besides the usual, Master Richard.”

Dick can’t help but smile. “As always, you presumed correctly. Thank you so much, Alfred.”

He takes one of the cups – pointedly the red one with bird wings printed all over it – out of Alfred’s hands and immediately appreciates the warmth that first floods his hands and then the rest of body. Sitting down near the other end of the table, Dick takes a sip of tea.

“Hmmm”, he hums contentedly as the tasty beverage rekindles his body from the inside. “This is exactly what I needed right now. Thanks, Al.”

“Anytime, Master Richard. I’m always delighted to share a cup of tea with you. But I gather from your request that this is not the only thing you would like to share with me.”

“You don’t miss a beat, do you?”, Dick laughs, trying to deflect the inevitable, but seeing Alfred’s serious face, he knows there’s no point in delaying it any longer.

“No, you're right. But where do I start?” Dick takes another gulp of tea before continuing. “I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind recently. A lot.”

Alfred sits down opposite of him with the other cup of tea . After taking a sip, he says, “You are a seventeen-year-old boy who is a few weeks away from competing at his very first Olympic Games, with a fair chance of winning a gold medal. Truth be told, I would be more shocked if you did not have a lot on your mind at the moment."

“Very true. But right now, I do have something particular on my mind. Or rather someone.”

“Would you care to indulge me with the identity of that mysterious someone?”

Another sip of tea to bide some time. Then Dick admits in a small voice, “It’s Wallace West.”

“Indeed”, comes Alfred’s perfectly unreadable response.

“Is that a ‘what a lovely surprise’ indeed or a ‘Lord, help us all’ indeed?”, Dick inquires cheekily.

“I daresay it’s a combination of the two”, Alfred clarifies.

“I feared as much”, Dick sighs.

“In your defence, Master Richard, Wallace West is a formidable competitor in the men’s single skating event, so having him on your mind this close to the National Championships and the Olympics should come natural.”

Here comes the big one, Dick braces himself silently.

“Only that the thoughts that I have about him at the moment are not necessarily … uhm… competitive ones.”

“But rather?”, Alfred asks, raising his left eye brow the tiniest bit.

“But rather ... romantic ones, instead.” Dick suddenly takes a profound interest in the dark surface of the tea inside his cup.

“Indeed.”

...Silence...

But then somethings cracks inside of him, and it all comes bursting out.

“Or actually, they are related to the competition too. The thing is that after Worlds last year, I realized that I … that I like Wally. Not just as a friendly competitor but as something more than that. I don't know why. I'd competed against him before and had never felt anything, but in Stockholm something just ... changed. I haven’t seen him since then, but I definitely have feelings for him. And ever since I’ve had those feelings, my quad Axel has been a complete mess, and I’m starting to think that my feelings for Wally are the reason for that. Wally has been perfect this season so far, so if I want to win gold, I need to go clean. Including the Axel. But every time I step on the ice, there’s this little voice inside of me, saying how can I be so selfish to try and take the gold medal from somebody I might be in love with. And it’s driving me insane.” Dick exasperates, pulling his hair for added effect.

“So I see”, Alfred answers calmly, sipping more tea.

“Master Richard, have you spoken to your sports psychologist about this matter?”

“I have”, Dick mumbles.

“And what did Ms Lance have to say?”

“She said that I need to compartmentalize my feelings for Wally. That having romantic feelings for him has nothing to do with me competing against him. She said that I can still be in love with him off the ice while also wanting to beat him on the ice.”

“An assessment that I agree with”, Alfred acknowledges with a gentle nod of his head.

“But I just don’t know how to do that! Aside from the fact that he’d never ever like me back in a million years.” Now Dick cradles his tea cup like it's the only source of warmth in the world.

“Are you certain about that, Master Richard?”

"Well, I mean, I know that he’s single and bi, so technically speaking it’s not out of the question, but realistically, what would he possibly see in me? I mean, he’s Wally West! He’s tall, and ginger, and gorgeous! And so nice. And I’m just … me.”

Dick can all but see Wally’s freckled smile in the reflection of his tea, and he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry or both.

Alfred takes a long a gulp of tea. Then he comments drily, “Truly, what a tragedy. What are the chances that a handsome young man, who by his own admission is not straight, could ever be attracted to another handsome young non-heterosexual man who was recently voted the prettiest boy alive by Teen Magazine and happens to be the oldest son of one of the richest entrepreneurs on the planet? What dreadful prospects indeed.”

Dick flinches. Even when you’ve lived with Alfred Pennyworth for years like he has, the sting of his trademark English sarcasm never gets any less painful. Especially when you don’t see it coming.

I totally should have seen this coming.

“So you think there’s chance?”, Dick finally offers hesitantly.

“What I think”, Alfred adds, maintaining the deadpan tone in his voice, “is that Wallace West deserves to fall through an ice hole into a frozen lake, should he be foolish enough to reject someone like you. In case you can bring yourself to admit your feelings to him, that is.”

“See, that’s the problem!” Dick’s hands are in his curls again. “I don’t think I can! Not if there’s a chance he feels differently. The whole is just… URGH! It’s made me question everything. My feelings for Wally. My technique. My choice of music for the free program. Everything about skating Just seems in limbo right now. All because of him.”

“Why are you questioning your choice of music?”, Alfred asks, his voice going from sarcasm to genuine concern. “From what I understand Ms Kyle always involves you in the selection of your programs.”

“Oh yeah, she does. Her philosophy is that you can only skate your best when it’s to music that you actually enjoy.”

And she’s right, Dick thinks. He’s only ever skated to music that he’s actually liked, and cannot imagine anything else. He couldn’t emote on the ice the way he does without feeling a connection to his program.

“So Moonlight Sonata was your own choice?”

“It was. But now I kind of regret it”, Dick sighs.

“But why?”

“Because it’s so iconic!”, Dick says desperately. “So larger than life. Everybody knows it. And it seems like everybody has skated to it at some point. Who am I, a measly teenager, to think that I can add anything new to that? To make it special again?”

A moment of silence, then Alfred asks shrewdly, “Master Richard, why don’t you remind me again of your reasoning for picking this particular piece of music again? I faintly recall you telling me before, but please be so kind as to refresh an elderly gentleman’s memory.”

Dick looks at Alfred through narrow eyes. He knows what the butler is doing. If there is any elderly gentleman on the planet whose memory does not need refreshing about anything, it’s Alfred Pennyworth.

Still, Dick relents and explains, “I picked it because it was one of my mum’s favourite pieces. She’d always play it to me on cassette at Haly’s.”

Alfred’s inscrutable expression turns into a soft smile as he continues Dick’s explanation. “And from the moment it was clear that you’d become an elite figure skater, you knew that Moonlight Sonata would be your free program music for the Olympics. For her."

"Yeah."

Suddenly, memories of his parents’ trailer at Haly’s Circus appear in his mind. The rich scent of tea that his dad would always drink. The warm blanket of Dick’s cosy bunk bed. The cracking of the old cassette recording of Moonlight Sonata that his mom would always play for him.

That cassette was only of the few things Dick took with him when he left the circus, along with his Zitka plushie and a Flying Graysons poster.

And before Dick even knows it, his eyes get watery and a few small droplets of tears run down his cheeks. The memories of his childhood always return to him randomly, and when they do, there’s no resisting them. And honestly – Dick does not want to resist them either. Does not want to forget.

At that moment, Alfred reaches across the table and squeezes Dick’s left hand.

“You see? Those tears right there? That love for skating? For your mother? That’s what matters. That’s what you need to put on the ice. If you manage to do that, it won’t matter who does or doesn’t love you back. You will no longer question yourself. If you put your emotions on the ice, the audience and the judges will feel them too. And perhaps even Wallace West.”

No longer able to hold back the sob building up in his chest, Dick jumps out of his chair, runs around the table and falls into Alfred’s open arms.

“Oh Alfred, thank you!”, he sobs into the butler’s shoulder.

“Any time, my dear boy, any time”, Alfred soothes him, running his broad hand across Dick’s heaving back.

When Dick has calmed down again, he lets go of Alfred, who merely grins at him and says, “Now, go upstairs and spend some time with those rascals you call brothers. Otherwise, I’m afraid we will never get some night’s rest in this house.”

***

“You should have seen my spins,today, Dickie!! I was SOOOO fast!”, Tim tells his eagerly.

“Not as fast as the pucks that I shot into the other team’s goal”, Jason chimes in, trying to sound less eager in front of his older brother, but failing by the excited spark in his eyes.

Both boys are already in their pyjamas, sitting on Tim’s bed and giving Dick next to them a vivid account of their training sessions today. Jason has been playing hockey for several years now and shows a lot of great potential for a professional career. When Bruce told the kid from Crime Alley that he’d been a hockey player in college too, it had been one of the first things that their disparate personalities had bonded over. Dick’s heart still swelled, remembering Jason’s speechless awe the first time they had taken Jason to the Gotham Ice Park, something that the boy had never ever dreamed he could afford.

Tim, meanwhile, is part of one of the novice classes at Fries Academy, and although he is doing great there, Dick isn’t certain whether the 10-year-old is destined for a competitive career like himself. It’s not for a lack for talent which Tim possess in spades. Rather, it’s the mental pressure that comes with being an elite figure skater. Every step you take is judged. Every movement is not deemed good enough. As much as Dick loves the sport, he recognizes how mentally draining it is – so draining that he’s not sure if it’s the right environment for the emotionally delicate Tim in the long run. But at least for now, the boy seems more than happy, and that’s all that matters.

“I’m sure you were both great”, Dick says finally. “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there to see it. I’m just pretty busy at the moment.”

“Speaking of that”, Jason throws in, “what were you talking about with Alfred?”

Both boys look at him with inquisitive eyes. Dick knows his brothers well enough to understand that there was no malice behind Jason’s question. Even though Tim may not understand the concept of sexuality yet, Dick is fairly certain that Jason does, and that he also suspects that Dick is not straight.

Still, explaining to his little brothers that he might not only be in love with a guy, but with his biggest competitor at the Olympics goes beyond what Dick’s tired brain is willing, let alone able, to tackle.

“I, uhm… I’m under a lot of stress right now, Little Wing, with Nationals and the Olympics coming up. So sometimes your big bro just needs someone to talk to. Let off some steam.”

“But you can do that with us, too!”, Jason exclaims.

“Yeah!”, Tim adds emphatically. “Ms Gibson at school said the other day that if somebody does you a kindness, you have to do a kindness back to them in return. Otherwise, you’ll get bad karma. You’re always so kind to us, Dickie, and I don’t want to get bad karma just because you don’t let us pay you back.

Dick can feel his eyes get watery again. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Oh, I love you two so very much, do you even know that?” He engulfs both of them in a massive hug, giving his face a moment of unseen reprieve to blink away the tears in his eyes. “You’ll two will never get any bad karma, I guarantee you.” He leans back and announces, “Now, go to bed and get some sleep, tomorrow is another long day. Good night Babybird, I love you.” He gives Tim’s forehead a quick kiss. His brother returns, “Good night, Dickie, love you too.”

“Good night, Timmy”, Jason adds, ruffling his smaller brother’s hair.

“Good night, Jay”, Tim giggles back at him.

Then Dick and Jason stand up and exit Tim’s bed room. Closing the door behind him, Dick turns to Jason and says, “Nighty night, Little Wing.” Before Jason can stop it, Dick leans forward again and briefly kisses his brother’s forehead.

“Night, Dickhead”, Jason shoots back with an affectionate smirk, giving Dick’s shoulder a light punch. Then he vanishes through the door next to Tim’s bed room.

Dick watches after him until he hears Jason’s door close shut.

“The two have you a point, you know”, a deep voice suddenly announces, shocking Dick out of his mind. With a start, he turns around and sees Bruce standing at the other end of the gallery.

“Oh”, Dick sounds surprised.

“Being part of a family doesn’t just mean that you have to give support to the others”, Bruce speaks softly but audibly, walking closer to Dick. “It also means that it’s okay to ask for support when you need it yourself, and knowing that you will receive it too.”

“I know, I know, it’s just, I dunno… Big brother syndrome?”, Dick shrugs with an insecure smile.

“Big bird syndrome, more like, what with you and all your little robins.” When he’s caught up with Dick, Bruce lays his hands on Dick’s shoulders. “But seriously, Dick, we’re here for you, always have been, always will be, and asking for help is not a sign of weakness. On the contrary. It’s a sign of respect towards your body, proof that you heed to the signals that your body and soul are sending you. I know from experience that it’s not always easy to acknowledge those signals, but trust me – you’ll be much better off if you do.”

Bruce rarely talks about his own experience of losing his parents as a young boy, but from the few things that Alfred told him over the years, it took him much longer than Dick to move out of the darkness of grief and back into the brightness of life again. Which makes it all the more remarkable in Dick’s opinion that he’s become the amazing father that he is today.

“Thanks, Dad”, Dick answers with a grateful smile.

“Now, will you have a problem if I ask Alfred what you two talked about?”, Bruce inquires.

“There is no chance you’re not going to ask him either way, even if I say ‘yes’, is there?” Dick comments with a playfully raised eye brow.

“None whatsoever.” Bruce’s smile turns into a crooked grin. “Nosy dad syndrome.”

“Ha, go on ahead, then, nosy dad”, Dick laughs, understanding that Bruce has no intention of invading his son’s privacy, but merely buts to support him emotionally as best as he can.

“And you go to bed, too, Chum. Even the strongest robin sometimes needs to rest his wings.”

Chapter Text

What blessing: the cafeteria at Gotham Ice Park isn’t very crowded when Dick takes a break from his rigorous training schedule to enjoy the sandwich that Alfred made him. Even though Dick has been skating at Fries Academy for years by this point and people have gotten used to seeing him around, there will always be some novices who recognize him for the first time and ask him for his signature. In general Dick doesn’t mind it. He’s a charmer and very easy going with other people, but sometimes even the Boy Wonder needs some time to himself.

Not that said Boy Wonder is currently in a bad mood. On the contrary. Dick feels good. He’s well on his way to getting the Axel back. Today’s been the closest attempt since Worlds last year and for the first time in months, Dick is optimistic that he will land the jump at Nationals. To which he leaves in 4 days – a fact that Dick prefers not to think about right now.

Munching away on Alfred’s delicious sandwich, Dick pulls out his phone and opens Instagram. Social media never fails to remind him of what an unusual childhood and adolescence he’s had so far. For most teenagers, their feed will probably consist of family, friends, influencers that they follow and maybe some funny animal memes. Dick’s feed, by contrast, features almost exclusively content from the figure skating world. Fellow competitors, alumni, coaches, choreographers.  That in itself isn’t surprising. Dick has been home-schooled for years, and while he loves his private tutoring by Dr Nygma and feels like he gets an even better education that most of his peers, there is one thing that he knows he's missing out on: making friends at school. If Dick knows anyone his age, chances are that they will have skated against each other at some point. Granted, between training, tutoring, and family, he hardly has time left for any friendships beyond that. Still, whenever he opens up Instagram Dick is reminded of what a strange life he’s living. An incredible life that he’s immeasurably grateful for, but a strange one nevertheless.

Today, most of his feed consists of training videos by fellow skaters who like to show off their jumping passes to create some positive online buzz going into Nationals. Dick has never been like that. He struggles to see the point of posting clips online of himself skating. Good on them that they landed a difficult combo in training, but no shade: at least half of those skaters will bomb the very same combos in competition. It happens time and time again, thanks to the added mental pressure of actually being judged. That’s why on the rare occasion that Dick does post something, it’s usually family-related, and not skating-related. The others can have the social spotlight to themselves. He’d rather have the podium spotlight instead.

Either you can bring it when it really counts, Dick thinks obstinately, or don’t bring it at all.

Amidst the unending series of barely distinguishable training videos, an explosion of orange suddenly fills Dick’s screen and he stops scrolling.

It’s a post by Wally West!

A selfie, to be more exact, of Wally himself, holding up his phone in one hand and a rather grumpy looking ginger cat in the other, whose colour happens to match that of Wally’s hair. The cat’s apparent grumpiness is offset by Wally’s borderline idiotic grin – which in Dick’s enamoured view only heightens the cuteness of his freckles and his green eyes.

Underneath the photo, the caption reads:

Fifty shades of ginger!!!

Dick cannot help but chuckle at Wally’s foolishness – and admires him for it, all the same. While everyone else seems to try and impress the online skating community with their training clips, in case a future judge stumbles onto their page, here is Wally, two time World champion, posting selfies with his cat and apparently being completely unbothered by the fact that he’s only a few weeks away from the most important competition of his life.

I wish I could go through life with that same attitude…, Dick ruminates absentmindedly.

I wish I could go through life with that same boy…

Suddenly, a high-pitched female voice breaks into the silence.

“Watcha staring at, Boy Wonder?!”

Shocked out of his ginger day dream, Dick’s head shoots up to find Duke, Steph, and Cass standing around his table, with sandwiches, salads and soups of their own in their hands.

“Uhmm, ah, nothing, just some training clips. Ya know, the usual.”

“Mind if we join you?”, Cass asks in her typical subdued voice.

“Not at all! Please!” Dick gestures to the free chairs around the table. The next second, Dick’s team mates sit down and Dick’s quiet reprieve is over. There are much worse people, though, to spend your break with, Dick figures gratefully. While Steph and Duke take the seats opposite him, Cass sits down to his left.

“So Dick”, Duke starts, his mouth half filled with bread, cheese, and turkey already, “I heard training went well for you today?”

“Oh yeah. The Axel is getting better and better. No two-feet landings or step outs anymore. It’s still slightly underrotated, but Selina and I are getting there.”

“So you’re gonna attempt it at Nationals?”, Duke inquires.

“I’m not gonna attempt it at Nationals. I’m gonna land it at Nationals. And the Olympics.” Dick sticks out his tongue at the pair skater.

Duke hollers excitedly, clearly energized by the prospect of seeing his first ever quad Axel in competition. Steph merely rolls her eyes at her partner’s exuberance. “Isn’t it crazy, though”, she chimes in, picking her way through her salad, “that there’s only a one point difference in base value between the quad Axel and the quad Lutz? Considering how much more difficult it is? There’s literally another half rotation to the jump, and it only gets you one more point than the Lutz? That’s bullshit. You should get rewarded way more for that, Dick. There’s a reason why nobody but you has landed it so far. I bet that's why they lowered its base value after Worlds in the first place. To lessen your advantage over everyone else.”

“I know”, Dick agrees, “it’s frustrating. But honestly, at this point it’s more of a mental thing to me than a score thing. Sure, if it gets down to the wire, that point could make the difference. But’s that not why I’m attempting the Axel.”

Dicks looks down at his fingers which he didn’t realize he'd interlocked as he spoke. He senses his teammates’ eyes on him, surprised by his candidness. Figure skating is a sport where the truth is often only ever spoken behind your back, and Dick is heartily sick of it. He needs to be open and honest for a change.

To himself.

To the world.

…And to Wally West…

“The reason why I’m attempting the Axel”, he continues, “is to prove all the people wrong who said that Worlds was only a fluke. I know that the Grand Prix wasn’t my finest moment but that gives them no right to discount me just yet. I nailed the Axel once. I know that I can nail it again.”

Suddenly, there’s soft hand on his left arm. Raising his head, he sees Cass smiling at him with her deep brown eyes. “And you will nail it again. We have no doubt, and neither should you.”

Before Dick can answer his friend and teammate, he’s interrupted by a gravelly baritone voice.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t four of my brightest stars all seated together around the same table.”

Hurriedly glancing over his shoulder, Dick spots a broad-shouldered gentleman with white hair and light grey coat standing behind him. It’s Victor Fries.

“Mr Fries!”, he calls out in surprise.

“How great to see you!”, Step adds, equally surprised! Even though the 84-year-old man is still technically the head of coach of Fries Academy and even has an office in the building, he no longer actively coaches on the ice and is rarely seen at Gotham Ice Park anymore. At his age, his support shows itself mainly in accompanying his skaters to competitions, joining them in the Kiss and Cry, and making sure that the elusive politics of figure skating are on their side.

“You too, my dears!”, he waves at them happily. “I take it preparations for Nationals are going well?”

“Oh yeah”, Duke grins, “those other junior pairs have no idea what's about to hit them.”

“Ha, that’s the spirit”, Mr Fries laughs. Turning his head to Cass, he says,  "Cassandra, I’ve heard that you've ventured into choreographing this season.”

When Cass merely blushes and does not respond, Steph speaks up for her.

“Oh yes, Mr Fries! She created part of your Aladdin free program. It’s amazing! Honestly our best program yet.”

Cass’s cheeks take on a deep shade of crimson that Dick has never seen on them before.

“Well, in case you should ever get bored from winning one national title after another”, Mr Fries grins, “just know that we’re always looking to hire great choreographers here at the Academy. I’d hate to see your talents go to one of our competing schools.”

“Thank you so much, Mr Fries”, Cassandra murmurs softly, finally feeling bold enough to meet the gaze of the legendary coach. Then, the old man’s light blue eyes fall on Dick.

“Dick, I was wondering whether I could talk to you in my office? It won’t take long.”

“Of course”, he responds promptly and slightly surprised, already crumpling the wrapping paper of the sandwich that he finished just in time.

Dick hasn't had a private conversation with Mr Fries in ages. What could he possibly want this close to Nationals?

“And for you three”, Mr Fries adds, “all the best of luck! I’m sure we’ll have to expand the trophy gallery after next week.”

“Ha, no pressure!”, Duke laughs.

***

Victor Fries’s office is located in the corner of the top floor of Gotham Ice Academy. Flanked by two massive window walls, it is a bright place, flooded by natural light and offering a great view onto the small lake behind Gotham Ice Park that is used as on outdoor rink in winter.

Aside from his desk in the corner, the office is surprisingly sparely furnished. The most striking features are the hundreds and hundreds of framed photos that decorate the other two walls, documenting Mr Fries’s illustrious career. Letting his eyes wander over them, Dick even spots a few familiar faces.

There’s Mr Fries and his wife Nora after their Olympic victory.

There’s baby Selina, after her first novice tournament.

There’s Mr Fries shaking Bruce’s hand at what looks to be some kind of fund raiser, probably for the Ice Park itself.

“These photos are amazing”, Dick finally admits in awe.

“A long career brings with it lots of memories”, Mr Fries comments fondly.

“If you don’t mind me asking: where do you keep all of your medals?”

Mr Fries waits a moment before answering. “There’s a special room at home where I keep some personal items of my wife, including our medals and trophies.”

Then Dick remembers: Nora Fries tragically died from cancer a few years before the opening of Gotham Ice Park. Unable to bear children herself, it had been her dream to one day create a school for promising young skaters, so Fries Academy was his way to honour and continue the legacy of his wife.

“I’m so sorry, Sir”, Dick excuses himself hastily, “that was imperti-ˮ

“It was no such thing, Dick, I assure you”, Mr Fries interrupts him kindly. “Now, why don’t you have a seat?”

Still feeling bad for his mishap, Dick sits down on the other side of Mr Fries’ desk, while the coach takes the armchair behind it.

Folding his hands in front of him, he starts, “So, Selina told me that the Axel is almost back.”

“Almost, yeah”, Dick says. “I still need to work on rotating it fully, but it’s the best it’s been since Worlds.”

“I’m glad to hear”, the gentleman smiles. “Well, I assume you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you in private?”

“I do, yes”, Dick confesses.

“You see, I wanted to wish you good luck and have one final chat with you before Nationals.”

That sentence catches Dick off guard.

“What do you mean by ‘final’?”

Mr Fries’s smile grows sad before he says, “Dick, I’m afraid I wont be able to attend Nations this year.”

“Oh”, is all that Dick can respond.

So far, Mr Fries has attended every Nationals that Dick has competed at, getting him ready together with Selina to go on the ice, and holding his hand in the Kiss and Cry, no matter if he skated well or badly. Even though Victor Fries never trained him directly, he’s become somewhat of a personified good-luck charm to the 17-year-old boy, a second grandfather in addition to Alfred. Dick can no longer imagine going to Nationals without him, and now all of a sudden that is what he is supposed to do? At the most important National Championships of his life?

As if reading Dick’s thoughts, Mr Fries explains, “I have a medical appointment next week that unfortunately cannot be postponed.”

Instantly, all kinds of horrific images take over Dick’s mind who worriedly blurts out, “Oh my God, are you alright, Sir?!”

Mr Fries leans forward to squeeze Dick’s shoulder reassuringly.

“As alright as you can be at my age, Dick. It’s nothing to worry about. But sadly I had to choose between either missing Nationals or missing the Olympics, so I obviously I decided to skip Nationals. Nothing in the world can keep me from being there in person when you finally become Olympic champion.”

Dick smiles softly as he mumbles “No pressure”. He knows that Mr Fries’s confidence in him isn’t meant to pressurize him mentally. He’s never scolded any of his skaters for delivering a sub-par performance. Rather, he’s the kind of coach who always sees the full potential in his students, even (and especially) when his students may not see it themselves.

“Speaking of pressure”, Mr Fries continues,  “I wanted to ask you if you know what awaits you next week?”

Dick ponders for a moment what Fries means, but then says, “Well, Nationals are always a buzzy crowded event, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. I was last year, so – ˮ

“No, Dick, this is different”, Mr Fries interrupts him firmly, but non unkindly.

“Last year, you were one of a few up-and-coming stars of US figure skating, competing at his first senior Nationals. This year, you are the Boy Wonder who landed the quad Axel and set a new World record in the free skate. Everybody’s eyes will be on you this year. And on Wallace West.”

Dick gulps at the mention of his rival-turned-crush’s name. He cannot imagine that Dinah, his sports psychologist, would ever break her confidentiality vow, but still. This is figure skating. Nothing ever stays a secret for long in this high-pressure bubble. Could Mr Fries know about Dick's complicated feelings towards his greatest competitor?

“If history has taught us anything”, Mr Fries goes on, “it’s that the Olympics are decided on the night, and not at Nationals a month prior. Still, people will want to read the competition as predictive of what will happen in Montreal, however the event goes. It takes a lot to handle that kind of pressure, especially at your age.”

Dick lets those words sink in for a silent moment, before he finally speaks up.

“So what would you have me do, Sir?”

“Ignore it all”, comes Mr Fries’ immediate reply.

Not the kind of reply Dick anticipated.

“Sir?”, he asks slightly confused.

“Ignore everything that does not concern you personally and your skating”, the coach explains. “Or rather: ignore everything that is beyond your control.”

Dick remains silent, letting the wise old man speak on instead.

“There will be many things at Nationals that you have no control over. What people are writing about you online. The mood that the judges are in on the day. The performances of your competitors. All beyond your control. The one thing that you do have control over, however, is yourself. The only person who has power over how you skate is you, Dick. Not Wallace West, not the judges. You. And if you deliver a great performance, then it doesn’t matter how well the others might skate. So don’t let anything or anyone take away your control over yourself.”

“That’s easier said than done”, Dick admits with a nervous chuckle.

Mr Fries’s serious face melts a bit at the teenager’s admission.

“I understand, and trust me, I’ve been there myself. In pairs it’s even worse, because there’s a whole other person to worry about beside yourself.”

That makes Dick laugh out loud properly. Gladdened to see the boy ease up a little, Mr Fries continues.

“But what I’m trying to say is: focus on yourself, Dick, and only on yourself, and you’ll be alright. I know that the past few months haven’t been easy for you, and I daresay that the next weeks leading up to the Olympics won’t be easy either. But I know what you can do. From the first day that you stepped on the ice here, I've known that you are special. You just have to remind yourself of how special you truly are, and then the audience and the judges will remember too. You think you can do that for me, Dick?”

Dick feels deeply moved listening to Mr Fries’s words. Moved and proud at the same time. Even after years of training at the Academy, hearing this walking legend of figure skating talk about Dick in this manner never ceases to amaze the teenager.

I’ll make you proud, too, Sir, Dick vows silently.

“Yes, Sir”, he eventually answers aloud, his chest swelling with solemn determination.

“Good”, Mr Fries smiles. “Because when Robin fully spreads his wings, nobody can fly as high as him.”

Chapter Text

The National Championships are always a big deal, no matter which city they take place in, but in Metropolis this year, they seem to be bigger than ever before. On every lamp post and street corner you find an advertisement for the event. No wonder, then, that tickets for all the free skates have been sold out for weeks, especially for the men.

Naturally, the showdown between Dick Grayson and Wally West is the biggest narrative going into the tournament. Every media outlet reporting on the event has been running stories about the upcoming clash of the two skating superstars, but each and every one them has unsurprisingly boiled down to the same points: How Wally has dominated this season so far, being the much more consistent skater of the two and scoring a new personal best in the free skate at the Grand Prix Final in Japan. But also how Dick, while somewhat underperforming this season so far, can never be counted out of the running after the historic upset that he caused at Worlds last year. And how at the end of the day, the race for the Olympic gold medal won’t be over until the final free program in Montreal is finished.

Dick has tried to block all of that out of his mind, just like Mr Fries had asked him to. He logged out of all social media apps following his private conversation with the coach; every night before going to bed, he has religiously stuck to his meditating routine that Dinah taught him a while ago. Luckily for him, the Nationals being in Metropolis means that he was spared a flight across the country and a change between time zones. Instead, Selina, himself, and the other skaters from Gotham drove down to the city in a small bus, during which time Dick used the few hours on the road for some much-needed sleep.

A wise decision, as it turns out, because as soon as they reached the championship hotel in which all skaters, coaches, and officials are accommodated, butterflies began to flutter through Dick’s stomach, try as he might to meditate them away.

Butterflies that he pretends to think are only related to the competition itself, but deep down he knows better…

After a rough sleep at night – which was blessedly free from any ginger-coloured dreams – and a way-too-early breakfast, the time has come for Dick to check out the arena and the rink. Even though the men’s discipline is last in the schedule - the organizers shrewdly saving the biggest event for last -  the sooner you grow accustomed to the environment that you will compete in, the easier it will be for you when things do get serious.

By the time Dick gets to the rink, There are already several people on the ice. Giving his thighs a good wake-up slap, he steps onto the cold slippery surface himself and begins to skate a few rounds to warm up his body. It only takes a few seconds for Dick to realize how correct Mr Fries’ prediction was. Everybody’s eyes seem to be on Dick’s back as he’s warming up. Waiting to see what the Boy Wonder will bring to the ice. Waiting to see the famous quad Axel.

Waiting to see if Robin will rise or fall out of the sky.

Not today, Dick thinks defiantly.

Among the other skaters on the ice, Dick spots several familiar faces.

There are Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan, in their trademark purple and green training suits, giving Dick a quick salute as he skates past them. Ferris and Jordan compete in ice dance and are arguably the other big story of this year’s Nationals aside from Dick versus Wally. Not because their discipline will be a very contested one, on the contrary. No victory is more set in stone than that of Ferris and Jordan in ice dance. Rather, the question everybody is discussing is whether the two, who are also dating in real life, will be able to repeat their inevitable National victory at the Olympics

Ferris and Jordan are part of the so-called Golden Generation, i.e. a legendary group of US skaters who all competed roughly around the same time and collectively dominated the sport in a manner rarely seen before on that scale. Front and centre among the Golden Generation were Diana Prince and Clark Kent, of course, who famously won back-to-back Olympic gold medals in pairs skating – becoming the first pair to master a quadruple twist – and now run US Figure Skating. Other stars include Selina Kyle herself, who has remained good friends with Carol and Hal, as well as Barry Allen, who won silver in men’s singles eight years ago behind Arthur Curry and is both uncle and coach of none other than Wally West. It goes without saying, then, that Team USA also won gold in the team event at the last two Olympics, a combined event that was created eight years ago in which athletes from all disciplines compete collectively as a country.

Ferris and Jordan, both over 30, are the last of the Golden Generation who are still actively competing, and for a reason. The two have won everything there is to win in ice dance – except individual Olympic gold. Four years ago in Munich, they had gone into the free dance as leaders and heavy favourites to win, but a costly mistake on the twizzles destroyed their Olympic dreams and earned them another dreaded silver medal. The footage of Carol Ferris’s teary face went viral around the world. Even though they won a gold medal as part of the team event, that win clearly could not comfort them over the defeat in the individual discipline.

After the traumatic loss, they took a break from competition – which most people interpreted as a retirement in disguise. Two years ago, however, they shocked everyone by announcing their comeback and their plan to compete for gold one more time in Montreal. Since then, they haven’t lost a single competition that they’ve entered and have been dominating the discipline more than ever before. Athletically and artistically, everybody knows that they are in a league of their own. But only the Olympics will show whether they’ve put the pains of the past truly behind them.

Then there’s Harleen Quinzel, with her coach Jeremiah Valeska by the boards. The two have a complicated, and rather loaded backstory, with Fries, as far as Dick can recall. Valeska had been one of Fries’s star students, rising up the ranks of the figure skating world around the same time as the Golden Generation. But then eight years ago, Valeska spectacularly bombed at Nationals and was subsequently not nominated to compete at the Olympics. That decision eventually led to a nasty and very public split between Fries and Valeska, who blamed his coach rather than himself for his poor performance.

Valeska tried to restart his skating career elsewhere, but it never took off again. Eventually he retired and founded the Fun House, a small ice rink in Gotham’s sister city Blüdhaven with the intent to give Fries Academy a run for its money. For a long time, that endeavour seemed to go nowhere – until Barbara suffered her tragic accident and the US women’s field was thrown into chaos. One of the beneficiaries of the fact that the top spot in the women’s discipline was suddenly up for grabs was Harleen Quinzel. Valeska’s own star student, she lacks the natural elegance of Barbara or Cassandra, but arguably brings a feisty and infectious energy to the ice. This season, Quinzel was the only US woman to earn a medal on the Grand Prix circuit, and even Dick has to admit that her free program to “Send in the clowns” is beautifully choreographed and makes her seem more artistic than ever before. There’s a good chance she could be a breakout star of these Nationals, and honestly – Dick hasn’t had any personal experience with her to hold any grudges or to know if she’s as despicable as the reputation of her coach. The only thing he knows is that his heart will unavoidably bleed just a little to see someone that isn’t Barbara on the top of the women’s podium.

Dick’s eyes are still focussed on Quinzel and Valeska when he notices the board next to them open, and a young man with all-too familiar freckles and ginger hair steps onto the ice.

Dick’s stomach feels like it’s plummeting from the top of Wayne Tower.

There he is.

Wally West.

In a red track suit.

On his face, an expression that has no right to turn within seconds from serious to a grin this wide at this godforsaken hour.

Just as it has absolutely no right to be that gorgeous...

Dick pointedly tears his gaze away from the ginger-haired man and starts to practice his jumps, beginning with doubles, then working his way up to the more difficult triples, until finally throwing himself fearlessly into the quads.

Every now and then Selina gives him corrections from the board.

“Focus on your axis.”

“Keep your shoulder line straight.”

“Hold that ride-out a second longer. You know you can.”

And while he does not nail every single jump right away, on average he lands a lot more than he normally would at this time of day in Gotham. Feeling good at how the practice is going, Dick’s mind goes back to Mr Fries’s words.

"When Robin fully spreads his wings, nobody can fly as high as him."

Come on, then, Robin, Dick mumbles under his breath, spread your wings.

Performing a few backward crossovers to gather speed, Dick glances over his shoulder a few times to make sure that the path is clear. Gliding backward on his right food, he focuses his mind. The take-off is crucial for every jump, but perhaps nowhere more so than for the Axel.

Dick takes a deep breath, then he opens up his body sideways so that he’s gliding on an outside circle. Finally he takes a step forward onto his left foot and kicks off his right free leg into the air, its momentum lifting Dick’s body from his bent left knee into air. Pulling his arms as tightly as possible to his chest, he barely has time to count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Four and a half.

When his right skate hits the ice again and his body effortlessly glides backward, a wave of applause and cheers breaks forth from the people at the rink, and Dick cannot stop himself from grinning.

I’ve just landed a fully rotated quad Axel in practice at Nationals. Take that, all you doubters!

Selina is beaming like a Christmas tree when he stops by her at the board to have a drink of water.

“Dick, that was incredible! Where did that just come from?! That Axel was better than Worlds!”

“I dunno”, Dick pants, still slightly out of breath, “the other jumps just felt so good in my legs that I thought, ‘why not give it a go’? Also I may or not may not have wanted to send a message to everybody underestimating me.”

“Well you sure did that, Mr Show-off”, Selina laughs.

“What can I say, I learn from the best”, Dick shoots back with a grin.

“Well, I gotta give Victor a call and tell him what just happened. I’ll be right back.”

Pulling out her phone, Selina walks back into the warm-up area where she can speak a little more freely.

Dick takes another huge gulp of water, enjoying the cool liquid down his throat so much that he doesn’t even notice the other person who has just skated up to him.

“Damn, Bird Boy, that was killer. Shall we skip the competition and just hand you the gold medal right here and now?”

Turning his head, Dick finds none other than Wally West, leaning casually against the board and looking at him with an impressed grin, his arms crossed over his chest.

Within an instant, Dick feels his confident swagger all but evaporate from his body.

“Well, it was just an attempt”, Dick replies bashfully.

“Just an attempt?!”, Wally raises his eyebrows playfully. “I heard what your coach just said, and she’s right, you know. That Axel was even better than the one you did at Worlds. Cut yourself some slack, will ya?” He gives Dick’s shoulder a light punch, and Dick absolutely does not want Wally's hand to stay in contact with his body. Not at all. “Otherwise, I’ll have to do you it for you”, Wally leans in with a grin.

“Speaking of cutting some slack”, Dick deflects, trying to ignore the butterflies that just took off in his stomach, “congrats again on the Grand Prix Final.”

“Yeah, well, it was alright”, Wally shrugs.

“Alright?!” Now it’s Dick’s turn to punch him. “You skated a personal best in the free! Now who’s underselling himself?”

“Well you weren’t there, so what does a personal best even mean if you’re not competing against the best?” Wally looks at him, an unreadable expression on his freckled face.

Dick is speechless for a moment, feeling himself blush. Wally, the three-time national and two-time world champion, calling him the best?!

Finally, Dick brings his brain and tongue back alive and mumbles, “I don’t think I would have been much of a competitor for you back then.”

Another shrug from Wally. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll never know. But it sure looks like you will be one hell of a competitor this week.”

“Well, I’m trying”, Dick says, barely able to meet Wally’s gorgeously green eyes,

“I’m glad you are”, the older boy smiles at him. “Skating is so much more fun when you’re around, Boy Wonder.”

“Same to you, Flash”, Dick returns shyly, his face turning the colour of Wally’s track suit.

“Speaking of”, Wally pushes himself off the board, “I better get back out there and throw out some quads if I want to keep up with you on Friday.”

“You do that”, Dick nods, already missing Wally’s closeness. “See you around the hotel?”, he adds before he can stop his traitorous tongue. 

“Sure, would love to”, the ginger grins over his shoulder.

***

After a long day of training and practice, Dick decides to reward himself with a swim in the hotel’s pool facilities. He’s is surprised to find the area almost completely empty aside from an elderly couple. No other skaters in sight apart from himself.

Hmm, Dick wonders, maybe they are all trying to save their strength. Yet with the men’s short programme still being four nights away, Dick figures that a quick swim before bed cannot hurt. He’s always enjoyed the combination of physical exercise and relaxation that being in water gives him, and after today, he’s very much in need of some relaxation.

Once Dick feels like he’s swum enough lengths, he climbs out of the pool and walks over to the Jacuzzi in the corner. As soon as his body is engulfed by the hot bubbling water, Dick leans his head back onto the headrest and closes his eyes, letting the events of the day rush past him again.

Athletically, the day has been pretty awesome. He’s landed his first quad Axel since Worlds last year, despite having everybody’s eyes on him, and finished off the day with a flawless run-through of his short programme. If he skates that well in four days, Dick knows that he will be unbeatable. The Boy Wonder is fully back on track towards Olympic gold.

Personally, however, the day has been … weird.

Dick has had his first encounter with Wally West since Worlds, and honestly, Dick is at a loss for words to describe it. Once again, Wally has been so … nice to him. So kind and warm and friendly which just makes no sense whatsoever considering that Dick is his greatest rival for the gold medal.

As for Dick himself? Well, to say that he turned into a hormonal, flustered mess the second Wally started talking to him would be an offensive understatement. If there’s one thing that Dick Grayson is not known for, it’s being shy and introverted. He was born to take the spotlight and thrives from being a performer. Yet, Wally seems to have a magic ability to turn the confidant show-boat into a quietly nervous teenager whose cheeks blush way too much to hide the crush that he’s harbouring on the inside.

Yeah, I'm a total, utter goner for him, aren't I?

It's bad enough that Dick feels this inherent need within him to somehow get Wally to like him back.

It’s even worse that there’s a tiny yet unmistakable voice within Dick which shouts defiantly that Wally does indeed like him back.

Why else would he smile at you like that, Boy Idiot?!

Once he’s able to put down his rose-coloured glasses, though, Dick realizes how delusional he’s being. Wally would never like him. Could never like him. Not ever.

And yet…

“Skating is so much more fun when you’re around, Boy Wonder.”

How can he not fall for that sweet smile and that sweet voice?

...

That sweet voice that suddenly sounds much too close for comfort when it says, “You still got room in there for me, Boy Wonder?”

Dick’s eyes shoot open to see Wally West standing on the other side of the Jacuzzi, hands on his hips and looking down at the black-haired teenager with an amused smile.

But not just Wally West.

Shirtless Wally West.

Hoping that the dimmed lighting of the pool area conceals his blooming blush, Dick promptly sits up not very straight and tries to pay no attention to the fine definition of Wally’s abdominal muscles or the red swimming trunks that cling rather tightly to his impressively athletic body.

The attempt fails, however, judging by the swarm of butterflies that suddenly take flight in Dick’s stomach and chest again and soon spread out into other body parts too…

“Oh Wally – uhm, ah of course!”, Dick stutters, cursing himself for how foolish he sounds.

Wally wastes no time, immediately stepping into the Jacuzzi, but thankfully remaining on the opposite site from Dick in the round pool. “Ahhh, this is bliss”, he exclaims, briefly closing his eyes as the heat embraces him, “after the last couple of days.”

Dick is unable to take his eyes off of Wally’s face, which now is not only freckled but wet too. Figuring that coming across as a sociopath may not be the best strategy to enamour himself to the ginger-haired young man, Dick attempts to start a conversation.

“So, uhm, was it a long flight from Keystone?”

Well done, Boy Charmer, real smooth, Dick chastises himself silently. Traffic. What’s next? The weather?!

“Not really”, Wally opens his eyes and answers freely, “just a few hours, but I’m not the greatest fan of flying. Like to keep my feet on the ground. Or on the ice, for that matter.”

Dick stares for a moment, surprised by Wally’s admission that he’s afraid of flying.

“For someone who likes to keep his feet on the ground, you’re a pretty great jumper”, Dick says, a careful smile on his face.

“Well you know, you gotta do what you gotta do right?”, Wally shrugs. “The jumps go by so fast that before you know it, your blades are back on the ice anyway, so you hardly notice the flight phase.”

“Unless it goes wrong”, Dick adds with a sigh.

“Which I’m happy to say has not yet happened for me this season”, Wally grins.

“Haha, lucky you”, Dick dares to roll his eyes. Feeling bold enough, he continues, “on that note, though: Why haven’t you tried the quad Axel in competition? I mean, you’re the fastest skater on the planet. If anyone should be able to do it, it’s you, not me.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve tried it”, Wally replies with a wink, “especially after you put your foot down on all our collective necks at Worlds.”

There goes Dick’s blush again. Why does Wally praising him always make him feel like a teenager asking out his crush to go to Prom?

Not noticing Dick’s reddened cheeks (or perhaps because he’s noticing them), Wally goes on. “I worked on it quite a bit over the summer. But it just didn’t come together. Don’t know why. Maybe I’m too tall. But that one time it went so wrong that I injured myself and couldn’t skate for a couple of weeks. That’s when Barry and I decided that it’s not worth it to risk my health for a few extra points. Like, I don’t believe in fate, but if I’m meant to win the Olympics, I’m gonna do it with or without the quad Axel. You know what I mean?”

“I do”, Dick answers softly. Dick knows that the physical strain he himself is putting on his body just for that one jump is insane. But he’s past the point of no return now. If Dick wants to prove his naysayers wrong and himself right, he needs to nail the Axel again, come what may.

Again, I wish I could have the same attitude on life as Wally…

“Axel or not”, Dick says after a moment’s silence, “I bet your folks in Kansas must be pretty proud of you, though. Your season has been amazing so far.”

“You mean Uncle Barry and Aunt Isis?”, Wally inquiries. “Sure they are. As for my parents, I wouldn’t know.”

Dick frowns in confusion.

“Why? Don’t you speak to them? I remember reading that you moved out of your parents’ house to stay with Barry Allen as a teenager, but surely you’re still in touch with them?”

“Moving out is one way to describe it”, Wally smiles a bit sadly. “Getting kicked out is another.”

Dick feels the air getting punched of his lungs, rendering him speechless. Wally picks up the conversation for him instead.

“My dad set me an ultimatum when I was fourteen. Either switch from skating to hockey and stop with ‘that f*ggot sport’ or I’m out. When I refused, he hit me so hard that I couldn’t train for over a week.”

Dick’s mouth falls open. He doesn’t know what to say. After a few attempts at speech, he manages, “Wally, I’m so – I should never have – But that – that doesn’t make any sense! If they hated skating so much, why hadn’t they cut ties with Barry years before then?”

Wally’s voice takes on slightly bitter edge as he says, “Success makes you tolerate a lot of things. Guess my dad thought that the benefits of being related to an Olympic champion would outweigh the disgust he felt for the sport itself. Also, it probably makes a difference if it’s your brother-in-law skating or your own son. Anyway, when I told him that I wouldn’t give up skating and that I wanted to be an Olympian like Barry, Dad merely laughed and said I was delusional if I thought I’d ever be more than ‘a fucking little f*ggot in a tutu skirt on ice’. So he forced me to pack my bags, threw me out the door, and made me wait outside in the rain for Barry and Iris to pick me up while I was crying my eyes out.”

Dick senses his eyes get watery, listening to Wally’s story. The ginger-haired man has always been the epitome of ‘carefree’ to him. Perpetually grinning, landing quads left and right like he’s never done anything else, and generally walking through life like it’s an unending children’s birthday.

To think that this wonderful cheerful young man not only has gone through such pain, but also has been able to survive that pain with his held high blows Dick’s mind. He’d never guessed in a million years that there was so much trauma hiding behind that disarming freckled smile.

And Dick knows a thing or two about trauma himself...

“Oh Wally, I’m so sorry”, Dick whispers, blinking fast to hold back the tears in his eyes.

“It’s alright”, Wally answers composedly. “Barry and Iris got custody for me shortly afterwards and never spoke to my parents again, so there’s that.”

Seeing a smile return to Wally’s face, Dick feels his mouth pull upwards too.

“Well, look at the two of us”, Dick chuckles bittersweetly. “You think you need a tragic back story to succeed in skating?”

“Not sure if you need one”, Wally comments, “but it should sure as hell did not stop us from succeeding, did it, Boy Wonder?

Warmth sparkles in Dick’s chest – warmth that does not come from the water.

“No, it didn’t, Flash”, Dick replies, feeling his smile grow more open.

“How about you, then?”, the ginger asks. “Is your family proud of you?”

“They are. Very much”, Dick answers immediately and truthfully. “They’ve supported me from day one. But most of all, they just want me to be happy. That’s what matters most to them, especially for my little brothers, who suffer from an unhealthy case of hero worship. When I’m happy, they’re happy too.” Dick can’t help but grin, imagining what Jason, Tim, and little Damian must be doing right now.

“And what makes you happy, Dick?”, Wally inquires, looking at Dick with an intensity that gives Dick goosebumps despite the heat of the Jacuzzi.

Averting Wally’s gaze, Dick focuses on the bubbles around his neck to gather his thoughts.

Then he responds, “Right now, I guess winning Nationals and the Olympics would make me pretty darn happy. But …" Pulling all his bravery together, he brings himself to meet Wally’s gaze as he speaks on. "I’m sure there would be other things that will make me just as happy.”

“I hope there will be. You deserve to be happy, Dick”, Wally comments warmly, his eyes never wavering from Dick’s.

“We both do”, Dick adds unblinkingly.

Suddenly, then, another figure appears in the entrance way to the pool facilities.

“Hey Dick!”

It’s Duke, dressed in a black and yellow track suit and flip-flops.

When he reaches the Jacuzzi and notices the other person in it, Duke stops short, visibly star-struck.

“Oh, hi Wally!”

“Hi Duke”, Wally grins, clearly bemused by his affect on the junior pair skater.

Clearing his throat, Duke forces himself to turn to Dick and mumbles, “Uhm, Dick, Selina wants to meet us in the hotel lounge to talk about the schedule before we go to bed.”

“Alright”, Dick sighs, “tell her I’ll be in 10 minutes.”

“Will do! Bye, Wally!”, Duke announces with an awkward hand wave and is off.

Once they are alone again, Wally says, “No rest for the wicked, huh?”

“I guess not”, Dick answers, raising himself out of the depth of the Jacuzzi and deeply thankful that his body has had enough time to … accommodate itself to Wally’s presence. “Anyway, it was very nice talking to you. See you on the ice, Flash.”

Dick looks at the ginger with a smile that hopefully signifies just how nice it truly was talking to him.

And how much he’d like to continue their conversations…

“See you on the ice, Robin”, Wally reciprocates smilingly.

Chapter Text

“He is a two-time Junior World champion and a three-time Junior National champion who placed second at his Senior Nationals debut last year. At the Stockholm World Championships, he became the first jumper in history to perform a quadruple Axel in competition, winning gold with a new World record in the free skate. Representing the Fries Academy of Gotham City, RICHARD GRAYSON!”

15000 people in the sold-out Metropolis Arena erupt into cheers as the announcer calls out his name and Dick gives a quick wave to the audience, before he refocuses on himself again. He only has 6 minutes to warm himself up on the ice before the final group of skaters have to perform their short programme one after the other. Luckily for Dick, he’s been drawn to skate first, so there is no break between his warm-up and his performance. He can go out first and hopefully skate as well as possible, and then it’s over and he can watch the others having to follow his benchmark.

However, the warm-up is not just important physically. It’s also slightly nerve-wrecking because the audience and the judges are already watching you. Even though the warm-up per se is technically not judged, whatever you do on the ice during the six minutes can already send an important message to the very people who will be judging you in a few minutes’ time. Just as in regular practice sessions which are also watched by judges, if you skate and jump well in a warm-up, the message you send is ‘I’m confident and will deliver a great performance, worthy of your top marks’. If the warm-up goes shaky, both the athlete and the judges will be on edge, bracing themselves for a potentially disastrous performance.

Dick, meanwhile is totally in the zone, taking in nothing from his fellow competitors except for where they are going on the ice to avoid collisions. He also tries to block out the announcements of the other skaters’ previous achievements, but cannot help paying attention when the resumé of the final competitor is called out.

“He is a two-time World champion and a three-time National champion. This season, he has gone undefeated, with victories at Skate America, the NHK Trophy, and the Grand Prix Final. Representing the Star Rink in Keystone City, WALLACE WEST!”

Wally, in a black outfit with striking green embellishments, throws his widest grin at the cheering crowd, but much like Dick, quickly re-centres again. The ginger-haired man is way too experienced not to know how important his next stake could be.

Tearing his gaze away from Wally, Dick takes a deep breath and then takes off into a quadruple Lutz, the most difficult and highest-rated jump in his short programme – and nails it. He lets out a sigh of relief, skates a few meters, and goes into a triple Axel – which he nails too.

According to the current rules, quad Axels are not allowed in the short programme which eases the pressure a bit off of Dick's shoulders. He can stick to the jumps that he knows are secure, rather than attempting those which are a bit riskier. Befitting its name, the short programme is only 2.40 minutes long and therefore contains fewer elements than the free skate. Thus, if an element in the short programme goes wrong, your opportunities to try and make up for that point loss elsewhere are very limited compared to the free skate and you can easily fall behind in the scores. That's why you need to make sure that you better land the few jumps that you have in the short, otherwise next thing you know, you'll find yourself way down the ranking. Mr Fries’s old saying echoes through Dick’s head at that moment: “You can’t win the competition in the short. But you can lose it.”

Deciding that his jumps feel and look good, Dick spends the remaining minutes of the warm-up just skating and doing some cross-overs to keep his body engaged, focus on his knee bend and edges and going through a few of his steps. Suddenly, the announcer proclaims, “Skaters, you have one minute remaining.”

Dick takes another deep breath. The moment of truth is coming closer. Still, he has nothing to worry about, he tells himself. His practice jumps were great, and like Mr Fries said: if Dick skates perfectly, then nobody else comes close to him...

...Right?

Trying not to think about the pressure on his shoulders is easier said than done, especially since these National Championships have been a clean sweep for the Fries Academy so far. Until now, the Gotham skaters have won every discipline that they competed in: Cassandra in solo dance, Stephanie and Duke in junior pairs, and Terrence McGinnis in junior men. Mia Mizoguchi, Gotham's greatest talent in the junior women's field, had to withdraw because of a flu infection. But thanks to her bronze medal at the Junior Grand Prix Final last month, her spot on the Junior Worlds team is all but assured. Meanwhile, Jade Nguyen and Thomas Blake, the top ice dance team training in Gotham, represent Canada, but given that they are one of the country's greatest hopes for an individual medal in figure skating at their home Olympics, anything but a landslide victory at Canadian Nationals next weekend would unimaginable.

That leaves senior pairs and senior men. No less than two Gotham pairs are currently in the lead after the short programme: Kory Anders and Roy Harper - the World silver medallists, defending champions, and anointed favourites - as well as rising stars Megan Morse and Conner Cent, who just so happens to be the younger brother of Olympic pairs champion Clark Kent. Veterans Henry 'Hank' Hall and Dawn 'Dove' Granger are still within striking distance in third place, but at this point, the pairs gold medal looks destined to go to Gotham for the third Nationals in a row.

So it all depends on me to complete the golden sweep for Mr Fries, Dick contemplates, remembering the amount of time, energy and money that the old man invested into making his academy the stronghold that it is today and how much a clean sweep would mean to him as a way to honour his late wife.

In that case, I have no choice but to win, Dick resolves, determination flaming up inside of him.

He goes around the rink one last time, before skating up to Selina by the boards, wiping his nose and taking a sip of water.

"Great warm-up Dick, especially the Lutz", she praises him.

"Thanks Selina, I’m feeling good, too", Dick says with an honest smile.

"Glad to hear it. But listen Dick." Selina leans in closer to him. "Remember that this is your first competition in over two months. Pace yourself, okay? I know you’ll want to go out there and give it your all, but your body will also have to get used to the Adrenalin kick of competing again . That’s often when mistakes happen."

"Okay", Dick nods attentively.

"Listen to what your body is telling you, and you’ll be alright. Then once the jumps are done, give them a bit of a show."

Selina winks, and Dick laughs, knowing what she is referring to and looking down the length of his body. Dick is wearing red trousers and a skin-tight shirt which is made out of red, partially see-through mesh. Green and yellow rhinestones sparkle across the shirt, alluding to the colours of his old Flying Graysons uniform. This is definitely the boldest costume Dick has ever worn, leaving little about the toned musculature of his upper body to the imagination, and deliberately so. “You’re a senior now”, Selina said when they discussed costume ideas for the upcoming season during the summer, “in a sport that is as superficial as they come. Figure skating is as much a pageant as it is an athletic competition. Plus, you were just voted the prettiest boy alive by Teen Magazine. So do not think for one second, Richard John Grayson, that we will not capitalize on that!”

Dick has never had a problem with the attention people pay to his good looks. He’s been called a pretty boy all his life and is proud of the body that years of training and competing have given him, so he is completely fine with having a costume that accentuates his prettiness. Still, he found himself struggling initially with the idea that people no longer just consider him pretty but sexy too – and that he’s supposed to play with that idea in his short programme. “It’s not selling yourself out”, his sports psychologist reassured him. “It’s just a natural part of your coming of age as you mature from teenage boy into a young man, Dick. The only difference that you’re taking that step on competitive ice in front the world watching. Just imagine you are in the club and there's a another man on the dance floor whom you instantly like and want to attract to you.”

Back then, Dinah had no idea how perfectly her suggestion about Dick liking another man on the ice hit the nail on the head...

Still, that reassurance helped him a lot, and so the first time he displayed his slim outfit and his short programme at Skate Canada, the audience went berserk, and no lie: Dick loved it too. Loved seeing the reaction that he could spark in the crowd. So now, if Selina asks him to give them a show, she does not have to tell him twice, let alone explain what she means by that.

“Skaters, your warm-up is over. Please leave the ice.”

A spark shoots through Dick’s body that very second. He refocuses on Selina’s bright eyes who places her hands on Dick’s shoulders. Next to them the other skaters, including Wally, return to the board and put on their blade guards, but neither Dick nor Selina pay them any mind.

“Okay, Dick. You got this. You hear me? You got this”, Selina speaks firmly.

“I got this”, Dick repeats confidently.

Then he turns and skates another lap around the rink, while the announcer calls out, “Our first skater in this final group represents the Fries Academy in Gotham City. Please welcome RICHARD GRAYSON!”

The crowd gives out a massive cheer as Dick boldly raises his arms in a proud ‘Here I am’ welcoming gesture and skates to the centre of the rink where he assumes his opening pose: legs open, arms angled and his fingers spread wide apart, his back towards the judges.

A moment of silence.

Dick's heart is thumping so loud in his chest that he almost thinks the judges must hear it.

Then the bass line and the beat of Silver Convention’s ‘Fly Robin Fly’ kick in, shortly followed by groovy piano chords and strings. Dick starts pulsing his fingers and shaking his hips, throws a seductive smile over his shoulder at the judges, and he’s off.

Dick will freely admit that the music is cheesy as can be and that he probably never would have picked it for his short programme if it weren't for the nickname that his parents (and later the press) gave him, especially in an Olympic season. Nonetheless, Dick comes alive whenever he hears that thumbing beat and he knows: if anybody can make this work, it's me.

If this were an exhibition programme, the audience would be clapping along to the song from the first second. But since this is a competition and spectators know how crucial it is for skaters to keep their focus, they tend to just applaud after a completed element and withhold from clapping along until the hard elements are done near the end.

After his opening motions during which Dick makes sure to shoot confident glances in the direction of the judges, he begins to prepare for his opening combination jump of a quad Lutz and a triple toe loop. Skating backward on his left foot for a couple of seconds to shift momentum onto his left outside edge, he then smashes his right toe pick into the ice and takes off, rotating four times in the air, before landing back on his right skate. That’s the Lutz done. Then he hammers down the toe pick of his left free leg once more into the ice for another three revolutions in the air.

Landing smoothly backward on his right blade, the audience explodes into cheers and Dick knows instinctively that he's nailed the combination jump. With that alone, he has over 15 points in the bag.

With the most difficult element out of the way, Dick goes into the rest of the programme with more ease, and it works perfectly. His other two jump elements, a quad loop and a triple Axel, go just as smoothly as the opening combination, just in time for the music to pick up in speed and intensity towards the second minute. “Bolero, but make it Disco!”, Barbara proudly called her idea to start with the original version of ‘Fly Robin Fly’ and then transition into a faster remix that builds and builds into a climactic final crescendo - reminiscent of the famous composition by Maurice Ravel.

Feeling confident, Dick throws a cheeky grin into the audience and gestures for them to join in the fun. Creating an atmosphere is what will make his PCS shoot through the roof. Wasting no time, the audience start clapping immediately as Dick thunders across the ice in his step sequence and moves into the spins.

Just when his spins come to end, the crescendo reaches a fever pitch and the voices on the track sing, “up up to the sky!”.

Slamming his blade into the ice, Dick stops his spinning and throws out his arms like the spread wings of a bird.

The music ends and the arena explodes. Dick breathes heavily, taking a few seconds to notice that spectators all across the stands have risen up to applaud him. A wide smile spreading on his face, Dick returns to the centre of the rink and takes his bows to all four flanks of the arena, earning more rapturous applause each time. He even spots Bruce in the crowd, clapping and cheering enthusiastically, and waves at him. His dad drove to Metropolis just to watch Dick’s performance while Alfred and Talia stayed at home to take care of his squadron of brothers. According to Tim, though, Bruce has already made plans for a big Wayne family trip to Montreal for Dick’s Olympic performances.

As always after Dick's performances, people in the stands shower the ice with stuffed elephants, a tradition that began years ago when tiny Dick Grayson brought his old Zitka plushy to his first Junior Nationals, endearing himself to the audience instantaneously. The stuffed animals are usually donated to nearby children's hospitals and foundations supported by the Wayne family, but Dick always picks up at least one of the elephants so that he has something to hold in the Kiss and Cry when he's awaiting his scores.

The bowing completed, he picks a stuffed elephant off the ice and skates back to the board, where he is greeted by the open arms of a beaming Selina.

“You did, Dick! You freaking did it! That was incredible”, she cheers, engulfing him in a firm hug, and then handling him his Team USA jacket and his blade guards.

“It felt incredible too”, he confirms as they walk over to the Kiss and Cry booth, a cameraman following right behind them. In figure skating, you’re always being watched, but at no time more so than when you get off the ice. Every reaction, both from the skater and the coach, is caught on camera and microphone and broadcast to the audience at home, which makes the whole thing very performative and theatrical – especially when you’ve skated badly and do not want to show how pissed off you truly are.

Dick and Selina, however, are all smiles as they sit down on the little bench in the Kiss and Cry booth and watch the screen in front of them replaying some of Dick’s elements in slow motion. Under such scrutiny, it’s easy to spot areas where he can improve, like some slight hesitation going into the opening combo or a toe that is not perfectly pointed during a spin. As Selina predicted, his body is still getting used to competing again after over two months, but this was definitely his best short programme since Worlds and a major confidence boost going into free skate tomorrow.

Once the replay is over, the red light of the cameraman standing behind the small screen switches on, notifying him that they are live. Dick then waves into the camera with one hand and makes trumpeting motions with the stuffed elephant in the other. “Little Wing! Timbers! Little D! I love you!!!”

Then the voice of the announcer speaks up.“The scores, please.”

Silence falls over the arena. Scores at National championships are always inflated because there are no international judges on the panel whereas the national ones want to push their skaters as much as possible. That's why the scores you get at Nationals don’t count into personal and season’s bests. Still, they are an important indicator as to where your federation sees you, especially if that federation has multiple medal contenders on their hands.

“Richard Grayson from Gotham City has earned in the short programme 115.51 points, which currently puts him in first place.”

Dick’s eyes widen and he hears a shocked gasp from Selina next to him. That’s the highest short programme score that’s ever been skated at US Nationals, higher even than Wally’s record from two years ago.

Selina turns to Dick with starry eyes and says, “Well, you just threw down the gauntlet, Boy Wonder.”

Well aware that the audiences at home will hear him, Dick answers, “Oh yeah!”

***

After such a triumphant performance, Dick can relax, watching the remainder of the final group of skaters on a TV backstage. Although they all deliver good to very good performances, none of them come close to Dick’s massive score, not even Victor Stone who won bronze at the Olympic Games four years ago and is set to retire after this season.

The final skate of the short programme belongs to Wally who takes to the ice accompanied by a huge roar from the audience. He’s skating to “Deep Shadow” by T. T. L., a dark but very powerful instrumental piece that Dick vaguely remembers from a trailer to one of the Hunger Games films a few years ago. At first Dick was surprised to see Wally skate such a serious and moody short programme instead of something more upbeat to match his personality, but the ginger quickly proved this season that he can skate to anything and still be perfect.

Dick waits with bated breath as the drums bang through the arena and the ominous piano intro arises. Wally is planning almost the exact same jump content as Dick, the only difference being that Wally will do the even harder quad flip as his second jump. Should Wally skate cleanly, it will come down to Programme Component Scores (PCS) - and Grades of Execution (GOE) to decide the winner - both of which are areas where Dick tends to score higher than anybody else, including Wally.

Wally prepares for the Lutz, takes off – and falls on the landing!!! Unable to finish his combination!

The wave of gasps that rushes through the arena can be heard even on the TV broadcast. Backstage, all the other skaters and coaches, Selina included, are gathered around the screen on the wall in simultaneous incredulity and inability to look away. It's the first jump that Wally has missed all season.

Next up is the quad flip – but Wally only manages a triple! At least, he adds on a triple toe loop at the end, fulfilling the combination requirement, but Dick would not bet the house on the fact that the last jump was fully rotated.

To complete the trifecta of disaster, Wally finally steps out of the following triple Axel, which looks underrotated as well.

Dick is speechless, unable to believe what he is witnessing on the screen.

Wally is imploding in front of his very eyes. The man who could not put a foot wrong the entire season all of a sudden seems unable to put a foot right. What’s happening here? Did Wally skate this poorly in practice this morning too? What about the warm-up? Dick deliberately did not pay any attention to his competitor when they were on the ice together in order to focus on himself, just as Mr Fries had advised him to do. So Dick has no idea whether the writing was on the wall for Wally or if this is coming out of nowhere. Dick only picks up hushed whispers from another nearby skater, saying "Yeah, he looked rough in practice this morning too, but still..."

Rationally, Dick knows he should be thankful right now. Wally is greatest rival for the Winter Olympics. With every element that he botches, Dick is one step closer not just to the National title, but to gold in Montreal. Momentum is the key to success in figure skating, most of all in an Olympic season, and Wally is just destroying any momentum he built up all season.

Dick knows all this very well. But watching Wally’s performance, he still can only feel disbelief… and sadness.

Not for just competitor, but for a friend.

When the programme is finally over, proving just how long 2.40 minutes can feel when things go awry, the audience gives Wally a sympathetic cheer and Wally in return waves at them with a smile, as if nothing happened. His nonchalant attitude continues all the way to the Kiss and Cry, where he laughs and merely shrugs at the camera with a relaxed Barry Allen sitting next to him.

Dick can’t make any sense of it. Wally just had one of the worst skates of his career, and he gives it a shrug?! As if he did not just blow his chances of winning Nationals, less than a month before the Olympics? The replay only heightens how awful his programme was, exposing even to the most generous spectator that not a single jumping element was performed cleanly.

What’s wrong with you, Wally?, Dick wonders silently.

Then the announcer comes back.

“Wallace West from Keystone City has earned in the short programme 85.78 points, which currently puts him in fifth place.”

Dick’s presumably greatest competitor – in fifth place?! 30 points behind Dick?!

A momentary grimace darkens Wally’s face as his current placement is announced, but the next second he’s back to his cheerful casualness.

Dick is flabbergasted by the ginger’s response, and silently vows to get to the bottom of it.

***

In the immediate aftermath of the event, Dick is busy with giving interviews in the mixed zone and participating in the obligatory press conference. It’s a routine as old as time that everybody has to perform in order to keep journalists happy and on your side. But that does not make their questions – or Dick’s answers, for that matter – any less tedious and predictable.

Yes – he is very proud of his performance in the short programme.

No – he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself because the free skate can still turn things around.

Of course – it would be a great honour to represent Team USA at the Olympics.

Of course – he has no doubt that Wallace West will come back with a very strong performance in the free skate tomorrow.

The last answer resonates in Dick’s head well after the press conference is over. Will Wally come back from that? And if so, how? Try as he might, Dick cannot remember watching a more disastrous short programme from the Flash than this one. Although, from his easy-going attitude after the skate you would never have known.

I sure as hell know that I could not come back from a skate like that..., Dick muses grimly, thankful that his short programme went so well.

Lost in his thoughts about Wally, Dick is just making way his through the tunnels of Metropolis Arena to meet up with Selina when he spots a Team USA track suit with a familiar mob of ginger hair ahead of him.

“Hey Wally!”, Dick calls out.

Wally turns around and instantly starts smiling when he sees the raven-haired boy jogging up to him. “Oh hi Dick! Congratulations, that short programme was incredible!”

“Oh, uhm, thanks”, Dick stutters, taken aback by the compliment. Should Wally not be more concerned with his own performance than with that of his rival? “I um, wanted to know you feel?”

“How I feel?” Wally raises his eyebrows in surprise. “About what?”

Isn’t it obvious?, Dick wants to blurt out.

Instead, he says, making an effort to sound as polite as he can, “Your short programme?”

Now Wally’s surprised expression turns into a relaxed smile and he makes a dismissive wave with his hand. “Oh, that! Ah, well never mind. You win some, you lose some. Didn't feel great during practice this morning and the warm-up. Not a single clean Lutz. So I kinda knew this was coming. Just one of those days, you know? Still, tomorrow’s a new day, so new day, new programme. But thanks for asking!”

No, I don't know!! He can’t be serious!, Dick is thinking. How can he be so calm and casual about all this? Why isn't he freaking out - like Dick certainly would after a programme like that? Isn't Wally at all concerned by the fact that only only three skaters will be chosen to perform at the Olympics - and that he's currently in 5th place?

“But don’t you feel like, I dunno, more upset?”, he asks, dumbfounded by Wally’s carefree attitude.

“Why should I?”

That’s it. Dick can no longer hold it back.

“Because I’m sure you want to win! Like we all do! When you got off the ice, though, it looked like it did not matter all that much to you. I just – I would have been way more upset at myself than you were, is what I’m trying to say, and I wonder how you can be so chill about the whole thing?!”

Dick is almost out of breath when he finishes his speech. Wally looks at him closely for a long, quiet moment, his face inscrutable. Then his features soften into a smile.

“Dick, this is probably gonna make me sound like the most egocentric, patronizing shit in the history of figure skating, but listen. I’ve won three National championships in a row. Nothing can ever take that away from me, and nothing will make me lose sleep over whether or not I’ll win this one too.”

“But the Olympics – " Dick tries to protest, but Wally gently cuts him off.

“ – are a completely different competition and still a month away, and I'll put up one hell of a fight tomorrow to make sure I get on the team, in case you're worried about that. Now, would I be upset if I skated like that at the Olympics? Hell yeah I would. But today, I had fun on the ice. The audience were with me the whole time. Sure, I would have had even more fun if I’d landed my jumps, but like I said - it was just one of those days, and skating shouldn’t be just about scores and medals anyway. I’m not going to let a few jumps define me as a figure skater.”

Dick remains silent, letting Wally’s words sink in.

With a smile, the ginger adds, “And neither should you.”

The swirling of emotions in Dick’s body gradually settles down in a distinctly bad conscience.

Did I seriously just ask a two-time World champion if he cared at all about figure skating?!

“I’m so sorry”, Dick finally apologizes, “that question was stupid and presumptuous and crossed the line.”

“No, it did not”, Wally smiles, putting his right hand on Dick’s shoulder and squeezing it. “This is completely natural, you’re 17, it’s your first Olympic season after all. I remember four years ago freaking out about every single element that I missed all season, I was 16. And when I did not make it onto the team, I was so heartbroken that I thought I’d never skate again.”

Wally pulls away his hand and Dick has to clear his throat to suppress the regretful moan on his tongue at the loss of contact…

“So what you did you do?”, Dick asks when he has regained control of his vocal organs.

“I got a firm lecture from Barry about perseverance and never giving up, and became World champion the following year”, Wally winks.

“Ha, that’s a pretty good comeback”, Dick chuckles.

“It is, and FYI, I’m planning to have another one of those tomorrow in the free skate.” A grin spreads on Wally’s face.

Oh, so that’s the kind of game we’re playing, huh?, Dick thinks bemusedly.

“Is that so?”, he challenges Wally with a grin of his own.

“Oh absolutely, so don’t make yourself too comfortable up on the top of that podium just yet, Boy Wonder.” Wally’s grin grows slightly crooked.

“Well, you know robins can get pretty aggressive about territory, so I’m not letting you in without a fight”, Dick winks playfully, moving closer to Wally’s face.

At last, the ginger bends down towards Dick’s face and whispers into his ear, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

“Skaters, this concludes your warm-up. Please leave the ice.”

Promptly Dick and four other athletes from the final warm-up group skate towards the boards, put on their blade guards and jackets and step off the ice. Meanwhile, Jaime Reyes from El Paso, a sixteen-year-old boy with dark curly hair, tanned skin and a bright blue costume who placed sixth in the short programme, has a final word with his coach Michael Jon Carter, before he is announced as the first competitor to take the ice.

Tonight is the night. The night of the men’s free programme at US Nationals.

In most figure skating competitions, the skaters perform their free programme in reverse order of their short programme placements. That means that whoever wins the short programme has to skate last in the free.

Which is me, Dick thinks somewhat ominously as he and Selina retreat into the backstage area of the arena.

This is also means that Wally is already up second after Reyes in the final group, which just feels wrong. It was already weird for Dick to stand in the last, most-right hand spot in line on the ice when the skaters were first introduced to the arena. The spot that is reserved for the leader. Dick doesn’t know anything else other than Wally occupying that spot. Every time Dick competed against Wally, Wally was in the lead after the short programme; only one of those times was Dick able to overtake that lead in the free programme. Granted, that had been their most recent head-to-head at Worlds last year. But Dick is not delusional enough to think that he would have stood any chance against the ginger had they competed against each other in the fall.

By any metric, Wally has been the far better skater than me this season, Dick ponders as he puts on earbuds, plays some music and starts some exercises to keep his body warm for the next half hour. And yet he’s four ranks and more than 30 points behind me. This can’t be real. This is wrong.

Although if anything, the pairs this afternoon proved that nothing is set in stone until the free skate is over. Kory and Roy, who led the field comfortably after the short programme, had one of their worst programmes in years. Not only were they heavily outscored by Hank and Dove, who in return delivered the strongest free skate of their entire career; they were almost beaten by their younger team mates Megan and Conner as well. In the end, their lead from the short programme was enough for Kory and Roy to still win overall, but only by less than 0.3 points. Their long-time reputation as the undisputed number 1 pair in the US certainly took some damage from that, something you most definitely do not want to happen less than a month before the Olympics.

So, if Dick needed any wake-up call as to how much the free skate can still shake up the ranking, he certainly got it. Then again, his practice session that morning in front of the judges had gone flawlessly, including a textbook quadruple Axel, fully rotated and landed cleanly on one foot. All he has to do now is to repeat his practice run-through from just a few hours ago, and the gold is his. There’s nothing to worry about…

… Right?

Stealing a quick peak at the TV screen on the wall, Dick notices that Reyes is already taking his bows, a triumphantly raised fist still in the air. The smile on his face suggests that his skate went well. Indeed, the technical display in the corner shows a uniform row of green boxes, which means that every one of the 12 elements in the four-minute programme was performed clearly and awarded positive GOE. Damn, Dick thinks impressed, Jaime just started things off with a bang. With an even better short programme, this could have put him in medal contention.

Then it hits him.

Jaime was sixth in the short programme – one rank below Wally.

If Jamie’s done, then Wally is next!

Normally, Dick makes it a point not to watch any of his competitors’ performances as he’s warming up himself. Just like Mr Fries said, he must concentrate on himself and disregard everyone else.

But the thought of seeing Wally on the ice, after yesterday’s skate, unlocks something in him that he can’t resist. Against his better judgement and propelled by desire to watch the redhead skate again, Dick pulls out his earbuds and heads back towards the inside of the arena, Selina’s perplexed “Where are you going?” barely registering in his ears.

By the time Dick reaches the board, Wally has already presumed his opening pose in the centre of the rink and waits for the music to begin. He’s wearing shirt and trousers in a matching red tone, with yellow and orange rhinestones across his torso. Dick cannot deny that it looks incredible on him. Then, the first notes of the triumphant piano intro of Coldplay’s 'Speed of Sound' ring through the arena and Wally gazes up into the audience and towards the ceiling, a warm and confident smile on his face.

Wally looks at peace, Dick realizes.

At peace with the ice.

At peace with the audience.

And most of all at peace with himself.

…Unlike me…

Wally starts skating around the rink, gathering speed to prepare his first combination. Just as the drums kick in and Chris Martin’s voice arises, Wally takes off into the quad Lutz and triple toe loop, both of which he lands with complete ease. The audience erupts into huge applause and Dick holds his breath while he begins to take in the lyrics of the song.

How long before you decide?

Before I know what it feels like?

Racing across the ice in a speed that fully justifies his nickname as the Flash, Wally prepares and then takes off into a triple Axel which he executes just as flawlessly as the opening combination, a thunderstorm of red, yellow and orange sparkles in the air against the pristine white of the ice. Watching Wally skate as if yesterday’s short programme never happened, the lyrics of the music suddenly take on a completely new and revelatory meaning to Dick.

Where to, where do I go?

If you never try, then you'll never know

How long do I have to climb

Up on the side of this mountain of mine?

The truth washes over Dick’s eyes like a waterfall.

Dick will only ever know what it truly feels like to be with Wally if he is brave enough to make a decision. Not just a decision, though. A confession. To himself and the person he loves. If Dick never tries, never even attempts to speak and live out the truth of his feelings, then he’ll never know. But how long will it be until he can finally and openly admit to Wally what he has known to be true all along?

I love you, Wally.

So much.

More than you’ll ever know.

Dick knows that what he doing is wrong, that watching Wally goes against any advice that his team and his family have given him over the last few weeks. Selina. Mr Fries. Alfred. Bruce. Barbara. He is not distancing himself from Wally. On the contrary. With every second of watching him, Wally’s emotional stranglehold on Dick grows stronger and more inescapable.

But there’s nothing he can do. Wally pulls Dick’s eyes towards him like a magnet. Just like he will pull the scores towards him after the end of his performance.

One element after another, Wally continues to deliver a jaw-dropping free skate, possibly the best one of his long and acclaimed career. And Wally clearly knows it, too. After he successfully lands his final quad jump, Wally bumps both fists into the air, visibly ecstatic at how well he is doing and how the roaring crowd is cheering him on.

It’s only when Dick sees Wally’s fists, the bright smile on his face and the utter and complete carefree ease with which he transitions into his step sequence that Dick senses a watery sting behind his eyes and another epiphany overcomes him.

I’ll never skate like him.

I’ll never be like him.

Finally, the hardest of all truths hits home. Destructively and irrevocably.

He’ll never love me back.

Dick loses complete track of time, witnessing the red speedster performing the skate of his life. If somebody told him he’d been standing by the boards for 4 hours rather than 4 minutes, Dick would have believed them. Finally, as the song escalates into its concluding chorus, Dick can no longer hold back the tears amassing in his eyes.

Birds go flying at the speed of sound

To show you how it all began

Birds came flying from the underground

If you could see it, then you'd understand

Ah, when you see it then you'll understand

A sob escapes Dick’s mouth as Wally comes to a halt and the sold-out crowd in Metropolis Arena jump to their feet.

This bird has just come crashing to the ground of his emotions. Dick has seen, and at long last he understands.

Full of desperation, Dick finally tears his gaze away from the rink and walks back into the warm-up area backstage, swiftly wiping off the tears on his cheeks so as not to raise Selina’s concerns. The unending roar of the crowd follows him echoing down the corridor like a ghost. Putting his earbuds back in, Dick plays some music to calm himself down and to push any thoughts of what just happened out of his mind. Still, he can’t stop himself from glancing at the screen when Wally’s scores are announced.

230.94 points for the free programme alone. Which add up to a total score 316.72. Even with no audible commentary, the positively shocked expressions on both Wally’s and Barry’s faces tell you all you need to know about how huge that score is. Wally had promised Dick to come back with a vengeance and he sure did. But not just with a vengeance, but with the highest free skate score ever awarded at US Nationals.

The judges have made up their mind, Dick begins to despair. They want Wally to win.

And not me.

The next quarter hour creeps by in agonizing slowness as the next two skaters, Garfield Logan and Jackson Hyde, take to the ice for their free programmes. Disobeying Mr Fries’s better advice, Dick repeatedly peaks at the TV screen when their scores come up. Now that Dick broken Mr Fries’s credo with Wally, there’s no stopping his mind from comparing himself to the other skaters as well, no matter how wrong that might be.

The fact that Garfield Logan and Jackson Hyde both fall behind Wally does not worry Dick, simply because it was to be expected. There are many points to be gained in the free skate compared to the short programme, so if you knock the second performance out of the park, you can easily rectify a lot of damage from day one. That’s exactly what Wally just did. And as it turns out, Wally’s free programme score proves to be so massive that he even manages to narrowly reverse the lead that both Jackson and Garfield had over him from the short programme and remain in first position overall.

But what’s more concerning is the fact that despite falling behind Wally, Garfield and Jackson still deliver two clean programmes. Four skaters in to the final group, not a single jump has been missed so far, which is almost unheard of in the history of Nationals – and adds a ton of pressure onto the shoulders of the two remaining skaters. The only reason Wally – despite his poor short programme – is still barely ahead with two skaters left to go is that the technical base value of his jumps in the free is simply too high for anyone else to contend with…

Anyone else except me, thinks Dick, who plans no fewer than six quadruple jumps, the most that have ever been attempted in a single programme.

When the penultimate skater, Victor Stone from Detroit, takes to the ice, it is finally time for Dick and Selina to move to the boards. At 26 years of age, Stone is the oldest athlete in the field, having already won individual bronze and team gold at the last Olympics. He neither medalled at Worlds last year nor qualified for the Grand Prix Final, so his chances for yet another individual Olympic medal are definitely slim. Nevertheless he can still throw out a stellar programme like he did yesterday in the short, and is probably looking to add another team gold medal to his extensive trophy case.

As Stone’s free programme music, Kanye West’s 'Stronger', booms through the arena, Dick zips open his Team USA jacket and hands it to Selina, who looks at him with slight concern in her eyes.

“Dick, are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, I promise”, Dick lies through his teeth, putting on his bravest smile.

Selina, however, does not look altogether convinced.

“Why then did you rush to the ice to see West’s performance?”

“I just wanted to know what I’m up against”, Dick mumbles.

Selina’s concerned expression softens into a sympathetic smile and she lays her free hand on Dick’s shoulder. “You’re only up against yourself, you know that, right?”

In more ways than you know, Dick muses silently.

Vocally, he replies, “I know”.

When Stone’s programme ends and the he comes off the ice, Dick takes off his skate guards and rushes out onto the rink, heating up his body again while the screens in the arena replay the highlights of Stone’s programme and the scores are being calculated. After a couple of minutes, Dick skates back to Selina for one more sip of water and a final pep talk.

“Listen Dick, you skated perfectly yesterday, you skated perfectly this morning. Just focus on yourself and nobody can take this away from you.”

“I will”, he responds, though not with quite the conviction that he’d like.

Dick knows that Selina is deliberately trying to speak over the announcement of Victor Stone’s score so that Dick doesn’t notice it. Yet despite her loud voice and the nervous rushing of blood in Dick’s ears, the numbers faintly ring through to him. A quick glance over his shoulder at the video cube hanging from the ceiling of the arena affirms it. Stone placed third in the free programme, slightly behind Jackson Hyde, but with the short programme added to his score he remains in second overall. Before Dick can look away, the camera cuts to the leader’s booth, which is still occupied by a grinning and waving Wally West.

So it does come down to me versus Wally after all, Dick figures.

Selina gives him a final quick hug, murmuring “You got this, Dick” into his ear, before he pushes himself off the board and skates into the middle of the rink to the accompanying announcement.

“Our final skater represents the Fries Academy. From Gotham City, RICHARD GRAYSON!”

Dick tries to look as confident as possible when takes his first position and waits for the famous opening of Moonlight Sonata to begin. His wearing a simple black costume, with rhinestones in the same sapphire as Dick’s eyes spreading from the middle of Dick’s chest like outstretched wings over his shoulder and along his arms all the way down to his finger tips. It’s inspired by a bedtime story his mom always used to tell him about a mythical bird-like creature with black and blue wings called 'Nightwing' that flies across the night-time sky to guard and protect the innocent sleepers on the ground.

Behind his closed eyes, Dick tries to conjure up the memory of lying in bed in his family’s trailer at Haly’s Circus and listening to his mother’s soothing voice. But the only image that appears is the one that he needs to – but cannot – cast away: the calm and confident smile of Wally West right before his free skate, almost as if he were anticipating that he was about to have to skate of his life.

The calm confidence that I will never have…

The boyfriend I will never have…

The music finally begins and Dick starts to go through the motions, but as he transitions into his preparation for the quad Axel, several images flash past Dick’s mind.

The row of green boxes after Jaime Reyes’ performance…

Jackson Hyde’s first pump into the air at the end of his free skate…

The expressions of elated disbelief on Wally’s and Barry’s faces in the Kiss and Cry…

Amidst these thoughts, Dick steps forward and kicks himself off the ground. But just as his body rises into the air, Wally’s playful voice from yesterday echoes through his ears.

“Don’t make yourself too comfortable up on the top of that podium just yet, Boy Wonder.”

Suddenly, it all clicks together in Dick’s head.

Wally knew what was going to happen.

He knew how meaningless Dick’s short programme would turn out to be.

He knew how worthless I truly am.

Dick is so lost in his spiralling thoughts that he barely notices how unbalanced his body is when his right blade hits the ice again – until he feels his hips slam onto the cold surface and a shocked gasp runs through the arena.

Only as he gets up again and transitions out of the jump does Dick realize what just happened. He fell on his quad Axel. At US Nationals. With the whole world watching him.

With Wally watching him.

With Wally probably laughing at him.

Laughing at Dick’s delusion to assume that the 17-year-old ever stood a chance against him.

At my delusion to assume that Wally might ever love me back.

Distracted by the imaginary vision of a jeering Wally West, Dick barely has time to prepare for his next element, the quad flip and once more sends his body crashing onto the ice. The quad Lutz is next, just as ill-begotten as the previous two elements, and Dick swiftly completes the trifecta of failed jumps by falling yet again.

After the missed Lutz, Dick begins to panic. With every move he makes, he feels the programme slipping out of his control a little bit more. Like sand running through his fingers. No matter how tightly he squeezes his hands, he cannot hold nature back.

Dick lands the quad Salchow, but has to put his hand down on the ice in order to stop himself form falling yet again. His spins are noticeably messier than usual, too, and he even stumbles in the step sequence during the presto agitato middle section which is his favourite part of the programme.

Somehow, inexplicably, impossibly, Dick makes it to the end of the tempestuous middle section of his programme without just collapsing in tears on the ice. He gets ready for his final difficult element, a three-jump sequence which is worth almost 20 points in itself and marks the transition into the slower third and final part of the music.

The first two jumps, a triple Lutz and a triple Axel, still go moderately well, although Dick already fills mid-air that his rotations are tight. Too tight. Finally, on the third and final jump, a triple toe loop, his powers evade him and Dick falls one more time, further wrecking his physically and emotionally bruised body against the unyielding and unforgiving surface of the ice.

For a split-second Dick considers whether he should even bother to get up again. Why should he continue with the programme? Why even go on? What’s the point? When all he wants to do is bury himself beneath the ice, never to be seen again?

All is ruined.

His programme.

His hopes of becoming National champion.

His hopes of qualifying for the Olympics, let alone winning the Olympics.

My hopes of Wally West ever loving me back.

Still, remembering the amount of time and energy that the people in Dick’s life have invested into him making it this far in the sport, Dick forces himself to get up and perform the final elements of the choreography, with the feeble hope that he will at least stop himself from crying right there on the ice in front of an audience of millions.

For a moment, he succeeds, until one final thought delivers the fatal blow to his embattled psyche.

What would my mom think to see me skate like this to her favourite music? To witness me turn the sublime beauty of Moonlight Sonata into this pathetic tragedy?

At long last, Dick’s mind and his eyes break.

Who knew you could perform a Bielmann spin while also sobbing your eyes out?

Dick knows now.

Mercifully, a few seconds later, the music comes to close and Dick falls to his knees. Going to his knees on the final note is in fact part of the choreography. The hands that shoot to his face, however, are not. With trembling fingers, Dick covers his eyes to never see anything of the world ever again. Never to be seen again, either.

Dick doesn’t know how long he remains kneeling and crying out there, all alone in the middle of the far wide rink. He has no recollection whether the audience clapped in pity or stayed silent in shock and disgust. Everything after the end of his programme is one big, indistinguishable blur. An event clouded in a fog of shame that he will hopefully never have to relieve.

Sometime later, he vaguely remembers skating back to the board and collapsing into Selina’s arms, the face of her otherwise lively coach drained of every drop of colour it ever contained. He remembers a cameraman coming far too close into Dick’s personal space to make sure that viewers at home and in the stands get a good close-up of his tear-stricken face. He remembers sitting down in the Kiss and Cry and promptly burying his face in his hands again, unable to bear the replay on the screen in front of him.

And most of all, he remembers the unrelenting, bone-chilling words of the announcer.

“Richard Grayson from Gotham City has earned in the free skate 162.85 points and a total competition score of 278.26 points. This puts him in sixth place and concludes the men’s free skate.”

Chapter Text

From The Gotham Gazette:

BOY WONDERLESS:

WHY DICK GRAYSON SHOULD NOT GO TO THE OLYMPICS

 

By Vicki Vale

 

If you looked at the medalists in the men’s single disciple at this year’s US Figure Skating Championships, you’d be forgiven to think that Dick Grayson did not even participate, that he probably had withdrawn due to another injury just like he had from the Grand Prix Final a month ago. It would be inconceivable to think that any World record holder could possibly deliver a performance like that just a few weeks before the most important competition in the world. Just as inconceivable as it would be to imagine that any federation in their right mind would be foolish enough to send a skater like him to the Olympics over several much more deserving athletes.

I’m not going to mince my words here: Dick Grayson’s free skate at US Nationals was a BOMB the likes of which we have rarely seen before in this sport. And to Moonlight Sonata of all pieces! Less than a year ago, he was touted by some – rather immaturely, as it now turns out – as the second coming of figure skating when he not only stopped Wally West from winning his third World title, but also set a new World record and became the first skater in history to perform a clean quad Axel in competition.

One year later, and Grayson hasn’t been able to deliver a single skate anywhere close to his World record in Stockholm. Worse still, his performance at Nationals has proven that he is completely ill-prepared for the mental war zone of the Olympics. Admittedly, placements at US Nationals are not and should not be the only selection criterion for the Olympic team. But a placement outside of the top five simply cannot be denied.

Don’t get me wrong: Do I think that Dick Grayson is a talented skater? Absolutely. Do I think that he has great potential? Absolutely – as he amply demonstrated in his short programme in Metropolis. Do I think it would be wrong to send him to the Olympics over skaters like Jackson Hyde and Jaime Reyes who had much more consistent seasons and beat him at Nationals fair and square? Absolutely. To skip over multiple more worthy skaters for that kind of performance would simply be unheard of.

Grayson should take an example from West himself, who failed to make the Olympic team four years ago, only to become the greatest skater in the world. So as they make their decisions for this year’s team, I hope that the Olympic selection committee remembers that a robin needs to be fully grown before he can leave his nest.

The good thing about failing to reach the podium at Nationals is that you are spared of having to participate in the traditional post-event press conference that takes place right after the medal ceremony.

Unfortunately, that’s pretty much the only good thing about failing to reach the podium at Nationals, Dick finds, pressed together into a tight human ball in the corner of an otherwise empty changing room at Metropolis Arena. Amidst his sobbing, Dick is mildly surprised that his exhausted body has any tears left to cry, considering how many of them he’s shed over the last hour or so. And yet, they keep flowing and flowing while Dick tries make himself as small as he physically can, befitting of the performance he just delivered.

Much like the minutes between the end of his free skate and the announcement of his scores, the events following the Kiss & Cry remain hazy to him. What he remembers most is being hugged by one person after another, without actually recognizing any of the faces. A ghost, trapped inside his own body. One pair of arms, though, must have been Bruce’s, at least judging from his trademark perfume, the familiar wool turtleneck that Dick was gripping as if his life depended on it, and the deep voice whispering words of comfort into his ears. “Don’t worry, Chum, you’re going back to Gotham with me tomorrow morning, okay? So that you don’t have to share the car with Selina and the others. It’ll be just you and me, okay? That sound good?”

Dick had simply nodded into Bruce’s chest, thankful beyond words. As much as he loves them, the last thing he needs right now is to be in the same room as Cassandra and all the others. Besides, it’s only fair. Unlike Dick, they all won their disciplines; they deserve to celebrate their success and not have the party be spoiled by the depression of an incompetent wanna-be champion.

Besides, unlike them, Dick had not been invited to perform in the exhibition gala, so there really was no reason for him to stay behind any longer than necessary. Staying overnight was stretching it already, but Dick was simply too drained and exhausted to still endure the drive back to Gotham in the depth of night right now.

Unfortunately, the moment that Dick sat down to change out of his free skate costume, he made the tragic mistake of checking his phone and the first notification that he saw was Vicki Vale’s opinion piece for the Gotham Gazette that she had posted within minutes after the event. Because Dick apparently thought that he hadn’t taken enough punishment that day, he clicked on it and read it. Needless to say, the tears that had just stopped flowing a few seconds ago flooded his tears all over again.

And the reason is that Vale’s piece, as nasty as it is, has brought another catastrophic aspect about Dick’s performance to his attention, an aspect that he had not fully grasped in his emotional frenzy immediately following the free skate

Dick has not just bombed at US Nationals.

He may also have given away his spot on the Olympic team.

The US have three spots in the men’s discipline at the Olympics and until approximately 60 minutes ago, it had seemed like a foregone conclusion that those three spots would be taken by Wally West, Victor Stone, and Dick Grayson. Now, though, everything is up in the air. The results of the National Championships are not the only selection criterion for the Olympic team, but they do play a huge role. Sometimes, you might have the rare occasion where instead of simply going with the top 3 at Nationals, the selection committee actually choose the athlete in fourth place over the bronze medalist if they think that the former has greater scoring potential at the Olympics than the latter.

In order to send Dick, though, they would have to skip no less than three athletes in the National ranking, three athletes who all thoroughly outskated him in the free programme. It would surely be an unprecedented scandal in the history of the sport. Never ever in Dick’s mind would the US federation willingly take that on, just because this 17-year-old boy had one great competition last season.

Everything that Dick has worked for these past years has come crushing down in a matter of minutes. Letting out an anguished sob, he presses his hands tightly against his eye lids to stop the flow of tears and so does not hear the footsteps of the figure approaching him.

“Dick?”

Like a deer caught in headlines, Dick’s head jerks up, his eyes red and swollen and still swimming in unshed tears. Wally West is standing in the door way, still dressed in his free skate costume. Around his neck hangs his freshly awarded gold medal.

Oh right, Dick’s brain slowly picks together. The medal. He must have just come back from the winner’s press conference. That I wasn't a part of.

“Congratulations”, Dick tries to say without giving away his emotional state. But of course Wally does not miss the shaky tone of Dick’s voice and quickly steps closer to him. “Oh no!”, Wally moans when he takes in the state of Dick’s face.

Sitting down on the bench next to Dick, Wally swiftly wraps his arm around Dick’s shoulder and pulls the smaller body closer against his own. In spite of it all, Dick cannot help but momentarily close his eyes, marveling at how good the closeness and warmth of Wally’s body feels on his.

They sit like this for a good minute, until Wally cautiously breaks the silence.

“You, uhm, wanna talk about it?”

Instead of answering, Dick pulls his phone out of his Team USA jacket, unlocks the screen and hands it to Wally. The redhead’s face grows more disgusted with every second that he’s looking at Dick’s phone. Finally Wally hands it back to Dick and says, “Please don’t be tell me you pay any attention to that witch Vicki Vale. In Barry words, Vicki Vale is where journalistic integrity goes to die.”

“Integrity or not, she’s right”, Dick sniffles, crestfallen.

“About what?”, Wally wants to know.

“About the fact that US Figure Skating would be insane to send me to Montreal after tonight.”

“Are you serious, Dick?” Wally tightens his grip on Dick’s shoulder and turns the teenager to look at him. “They would be crazy not to send you. You’re the reigning World champion. The only person in the only world to have mastered the quad Axel. The World record holder in the free skate.”

“Who just finished 6th at his own Nationals”, Dick mumbles into his lap, no longer able to bear Wally’s piercingly green gaze.

“Yeah, behind a bunch of people who didn’t even medal on the Grand Prix”, Wally spits, “whereas you won both of your Grand Prix assignments. Dick, why do you listen to this Vicki Vale crap? She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Because it’s so true!”, Dick exclaims more loudly, re-establishing eye contact with a startled Wally. “I couldn’t even make the top five, Wally! If I’d at least finished fourth, it would have been different.  Skaters who finished one off the podium have been selected before. But sixth?! They’ll never pass over three people just because of me.”

Wally looks at Dick for a long moment, searching for something in Dick’s face that the raven-haired boy can’t identify. Then the redhead’s expression melts into a warm smile.

“First of all, it’s two people, not three. Garfield is 14 which makes him too young for the Olympics.” Dick’s expression remains hopeless. “Second of all, not to patronize you, Dick, but I’d suggest you wait and see. I’ve been in this game a few years more than you, and I can assure you: Everybody loves you. The federation loves you. The audience loves you. They all love you and want to see you do well. And you know why they love you? Because they recognize what an amazing skater you are. The complete skater. Artistically and athletically. The federation is looking for skaters with the greatest scoring potential for Montreal, and no shade, but neither Jackson nor Jaime have anything on you in that department. No, Dick. You’re the one. You always have been. One messed-up free skate is not gonna change that, whatever the reason for it.”

If you only knew the reason for my free skate, Dick thinks forlornly, directing his gaze to the hands in his lap once again.

As if reading Dick’s mind, he then hears Wally ask, “But that still leaves the question: what was the reason for it?”

When Dick pointedly does not answer Wally’s question, the ginger goes on.

“I mean, I don’t wanna pry or anything. We all have our off days, just look at me yesterday”. Unfortunately, Wally’s attempt at self-deprecating humour fails to provoke a chuckle out of Dick. “But that free programme wasn’t you, Dick. I know how you skate. You were absolutely perfect in practice. What happened?”

A silent storm is raging inside Dick during Wally’s speech and the quiet that follows it. How to explain to Wally the reason for Dick’s poor performance without genuinely giving him the reason? Without telling him the secret that has been eating Dick up inside for months? If he tells Wally about his feelings for him, their relationship will never be the same again. They will never be able to have their banters by the board or in a Jacuzzi again, the two brightest moments of Dick’s entire week.

Once I say ‘I love you, Wally West’, I can never unsay it.

But then again, is not that hesitation, that stubborn refusal to acknowledge his feelings not just to himself but to the one they relate to, the very reason why Wally’s skate impacted him the way that it did? The fact that he saw in Wally the ease and comfort of being in your skin that Dick thought he would never have himself? Wally did not outskate him in the free programme by more than 60 points because his skating and jumping skills ae that much better than Dick’s. Wally outskated him because he knows who he is and because he does not want to be anybody else.

Suddenly, the lyrics from Wally’s programme music echo through Dick’s head.

“If you never try, then you'll never know”

Dick knows who he is too. He just has to own up to it.

Fixating his eyes on a tiny dented spot on the wall opposite him so that he does not have to face Wally directly, Dick takes a very deep breath.

“You”, he then hears himself say in a small voice.

“Excuse me?”

If they were in a busier environment, Dick might have taken that ‘Excuse me’ to mean that Wally did not quite catch him audibly. But the changing room is dead silent. Wally did hear him correctly. He probably just did not like what he heard and the implications of it.

The first damage already done, Dick figures that he might as well ruin himself completely.

“You happened, Wally”, Dick continues, still softly, but with a little more force behind his voice. “I saw your free skate and I realized something that I’ve probably known subconsciously for a very long time. Which is that … I love you, Wally.” Keeping his eyes zeroed in on the dent in the opposite wall, Dick does not miss the slight tremor that runs through Wally’s body at that revelation nor the way that the other’s boy’s calm breathing suddenly hitches. “I’ve loved you for a while now. At least since Worlds last year, but probably even longer than that, in retrospect. But watching you skate today, I realized for the first time just how much I truly love you. But also, how out of my league you are. Not just as a skater but as a person. And that’s why I lost it on the ice. I was imploding, inside and out.”

Dick stops for a moment to catch his breath. Then he feels how Wally slowly loosens his hold of Dick’s shoulder, gradually pulling back his arms until there is no more contact between their bodies except for their brushing thighs. Realising what Wally is doing, Dick’s eyes begin to sting again, but he also wants to laugh.

Of course this was going to happen, wasn’t it? This is the only way this could end, right? Dick confessing his feelings to Wally, and Wally being appalled by them. The precious bond that they were beginning to develop in shatters before it could ever fully blossom.

Dick has to suppress a teary, bittersweet chuckle when he speaks on. “I’m so sorry for telling you this. I really appreciate how kind you’ve been to me here this week, and I understand that you are probably disgusted by me right now and will never talk to me again. But you wanted to know the truth, and I could no longer deny the truth, either. So now you know.”

Another moment of unending, unbearable silence during which Dick’s gaze remains glued to the wall. But then something happens that he did not expect.

Suddenly, there’s a weight on Dick’s right hand which is currently clasping his right knee as if needing to remind his body that he’s still alive. A warm weight that feels awfully similar to another human hand. A hand whose fingers gently push themselves into the spaces between Dick’s own fingers, interlocking the two hands with one another.

A hand that squeezes Dick’s own hand in a way that Dick can only describe in one word.

Reassurance.

Realising that he hasn’t exhaled the whole time that the other hand entangled itself with his, Dick finally looks down towards his knee. Then his eyes follow up the length of the arm that the other hand is connected to, tilting his body sideways, until they finally arrive at the freckled face of Wally West, whose emerald eyes look suspiciously watery too.

Wally’s mouth twitches as if he’s about to say something, but then doesn’t. Instead he leans forward, bringing his upper body closer and closer to Dick’s, until he tenderly presses his lips onto Dick’s mouth.

Dick’s eyes close the second that their mouths connect. The touch of Wally’s lips on his give him the same feeling that Wally’s calm smile at the beginning of his free skate did.

Warm.

Soft.

Safe.

So safe that Dick does not even notice Wally’s other hand cupping the side of Dick’s face until their bodies pull apart and the hand remains lingering in Dick’s cheek and neck, the touch of Wally’s fingertips on his skin as feathery soft as his lips.

If Dick had a mirror right now, he could see that the vulnerable yet hopeful smile on Wally’s face is a carbon copy of his own expression.

“And now you know, too”, Wally finally says softly.

Dick’s brain is no longer functioning, side-tracked by the important question whether divine creation has ever produced something more beautiful than the sea of freckles on the smiling cheeks before him.

When Dick’s malfunctioning brain concludes that the only possible answer to that question is NO, he manages to blurt out, “But what – how – when?”

“Your Lady Gaga programme two years ago, the one that you won your second Junior Worlds with”, Wally explains, his smile broadening as if he could see the programme in front of his very eyes. “When you skated to 'The Edge of Glory', you were just – so joyous and vibrant and in the moment. I’d never seen anyone exude so much happiness to be alive as you did in that programme and I just wanted to jump through the screen of my TV and be with you on the ice and hug you.”

The symmetry of their situation does not bypass Dick

Wally fell in love with me, watching me skate. Just as I did with him.

All of a sudden, the words from his conversation with Alfred before Nationals ring through Dick’s head.

“You see? Those tears right there? That love for skating? For your mother? That’s what matters. That’s what you need to put on the ice. If you manage to do that, it won’t matter who does or doesn’t love you back. You will no longer question yourself. If you put your emotions on the ice, the audience and the judges will feel them too. And perhaps even Wallace West.“

Alfred was slightly incorrect about one thing. It does make a difference to Dick's skating who does or doesn’t love him back. But Alfred was also correct about another thing. Dick did put his emotions on the ice, and as it turns out: Wallace West did feel them too.

Aloud, Dick manages to say, “This is – I can’t believe it. I’d never dreamed that you would … feel the same.”

“Well, you better believe it, Boy Wonder”, Wally’s says, his tentative smile turning into a slightly cheekier grin, “because I do feel the same. I may not have always shown it, because I didn’t want to come across like I was trying to throw you off your game or anything. But trust me. I’ve always felt the same.”

That confession provokes a small laugh out of Dick, a sound he did not expect to hear from himself ever again just a few minutes ago.

“Ha, well today you kinda did throw me off my game a little, but to be honest, that was probably my own fault. If only I had been brave enough to say something a little sooner.”

Wally squeezes Dick’s hand consolingly, their fingers having remained interlocked the entire time. “Don’t beat yourself up about today. We both could have been a littler braver. But better late than never.”

“True”, Dick agrees. Then, after a beat of silence, he asks, “But what happens now?”

“You mean the Olympics? Or … us?”

“… Both?”, Dick offers hesitantly.

“Well, as for the Olympics”, Wally starts, “they tend to announce the team pretty quickly. Last time, it was just a couple of days after Nationals. So they’re probably already deliberating as we speak.”

“Great”, Dick cheers sarcastically, trying not to imagine Diana Prince, Clark Kent and all the other important heads of US Figure Skating locked up in some office, re-watching Dick’s free skate. Then he adds, more genuinely and cautiously, “… And about us?”

“Well, you live in Gotham, I live in Keystone – that makes daily commutes and sleepovers on weekends a bit difficult”, Wally remarks, half humorously, half seriously.

“It does. But on the other hand, Wayne Enterprises is the market leader in communications technology and the Wi-Fi at the Manor is top notch”, Dick suggests in hopeful response.

Wally looks at him for a second, then bursts into laughter.

“What?!”, Dick protests.

“Nothing”, Wally defends himself, trying to suppress the sniggering tone in his voice. “I just forgot that you live in an actual Manor.”

When Wally has composed himself again, Dick says, “You know, if you’d like, I’d love to show you around the Manor one day.”

“Thank you, I’d love that, too”, Wally answers sincerely. “... Just as I love you, Dick Grayson.”

Is this real life?!, Dick wonders in silent amazement. Five minutes ago, Dick was dead certain that Wally would never speak another word to him. And now here they are, making plans for Wally to visit Gotham.

Confessing their love for another.

Unable to stop himself, Dick bends forward and places another kiss on Wally’s lips, this one just as sweetly tender as the first.

“One more thing, though”, Dick speaks up when they pull apart. “Should we tell anyone? A few people in my family already know that I, you know, have feelings for you, so keeping whatever ‘this’ is a secret from them will get tricky.”

“Hmm”, Wally ponders for a moment. “I think it’s okay if our families know. But if it’s okay with you, I would prefer not to announce it publicly just yet.”

“Of course”, Dick reassures him promptly. Dick has never publicly ‘come out’ – even though people just assume that he’s gay, so he would never pressure Wally into something that he’s not ready for yet.

“Because to be honest”, Wally adds grinningly, “I’d much rather do that whole ‘FYI we’re dating’ thing with Olympic medals around both our necks.”

Dick laughs and wraps his arms around the redhead, pressing his lips onto Wally’s once more.

Maybe I had it all wrong, Dick figures, running his fingers playfully through Wally’s soft hair.

Maybe losing Nationals does have its perks after all.

Maybe sometimes in life, the most valuable prizes are not golden, silver, or bronze, but ginger.

Chapter Text

“Dick, do I need to remind you that your coach is an Olympic champion and has the private number of both heads of the US Figure Skating Federation?”, Bruce says sharply, looking at Dick from the driver’s seat of his black Porsche which is currently speeding up the high way from Metropolis back to Gotham.

“Huh?”, the teenager’s head peaks up from his phone, distractedly.

“I’m pretty sure Selina will know if you’ve made the team or not before any official announcement is made, and will call you asap. You don’t need to check your phone every minute.”

“Oh”, Dick apologizes, only realizing just now that he’s indeed become one of those adolescents who can’t go five feet without stealing a glance at their phones. But what is he supposed to do? Dick’s Olympic fate could be decided any minute.

“I know”, he mumbles, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I hate waiting for news. I didn’t expect to be in this situation 24 hours ago.”

I also didn’t expect to be getting live updates about the gala rehearsals from my newly ginger-haired boyfriend, Dick has to suppress the giddy voice within him from saying out loud.

“To be honest, none of us did”, Bruce continues less sharply, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you are in this situation, and whatever happens the family will support you all the way.”

This indeed makes Dick look at his dad with nothing but gratitude in his sapphire eyes.

“Thanks, Dad”, he answers warmly.

But then Dick’s phone vibrates again, and he immediately unlocks its screen.

Instead of a message from Selina about the Olympics, though, he is confronted with a text from Wally that reads ‘gala rehearsals be like’. That message is then followed by the meme of old Rose in Titanic saying ‘It’s been 84 years’, and this time Dick is not quick enough to quell the snigger that escapes his mouth.

Dick immediately starts texting back, ‘does the ice hit you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body?’, and vaguely perceives Bruce saying, “Although I must say that you seem quite different today, compared to after the event last night. A good night’s sleep must have done wonders for you.”

“You could say that”, Dick replies absentmindedly.

Instead Dick’s mind is with the boy who just sent him an emoji that’s crying with laughter in response to his text.

The boy who visited him in his hotel room last night…

The boy who just held Dick last night and gave him the feeling that even if the world comes crashing down, he will be alright…

They will be alright…

“I mean”, Bruce breaks the silence inside the car, “it was a pretty intense day yesterday, even for me. I was so knackered last night that I almost started to hallucinate things when I returned to my room. Like Wally West leaving your hotel room after you’d gone to bed. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

Dick’s head shoots up faster than any of his jumping take-offs and finds Bruce side-eyeing him shrewdly.

“Care to elaborate on that?”, Bruce smirks with a raised eye brow that makes the colour drain from Dick’s face.

And because the universe apparently hates Dick Grayson, his phone lights up that very moment with another message from Wally.

“Or on the photo that just popped up on your phone?” Bruce adds, his smirk widening.

Without having to unlock the screen, Dick can see that it’s a collage, consisting of a photo of Wally’s sleeping cat on the left and a selfie (clearly taken just now at Metropolis Arena) of a seemingly sleeping Wally on the right, captioned by the words ‘Same energy. Or lack thereof’.

Dick exhales deeply. “There’s no point in plausible deniability any more, is there?”

“Nosy dad syndrome, remember?”, comes Bruce’s predictably smug response.

“Which reminds me that you probably did have that chat with Alfred about the thing I discussed with him, didn’t you?”, Dick asks, well aware that he is fighting a losing a battle. Sometimes he wonders if Bruce used to be a detective in a previous life. If there is any secret that his dad wants to find out about, he will leave absolutely no stone unturned until the code is cracked.

“You got that right, Chum.”

Bruce isn’t stupid, Dick tells himself then. If he knows about Dick’s crush on Wally from Alfred and saw Wally leaving Dick’s hotel room last night, he can connect the dots. There’s no point in withholding or denying the truth any longer.

“Well”, Dick begins and gathers all the courage in his body, “in that case, you might be interested to know that Wally accidentally found me in my changing room in the arena last night. I was still pretty messed up from the free skate, so he tried to console me and cheer me up. At first, we were just talking, but then talking became holding hands, and then holding hands became … uhm … kissing.”

All of a sudden, Dick, whose voice grows smaller and smaller as he makes his confession, is overcome by a deep fascination for the trees and fields that they pass by on his righthand side. Unfortunately, that fascination is not enough to mute the profound awkwardness of the words that he hears next coming from his dad.

“And surely, I won’t have to ask you whether nor not things stopped at the kissing stage because the two of you remembered that Wally is 20 and you are 17. Isn’t that so, Richard John Grayson?”

Dick flinches at the sound of his full name and can barely pry his lips open enough to reply, “Uhm, of course.”

“So Wally West sneaking out of your hotel room was just a hallucination after all, wasn’t it?”

For a father who loves his children as much as Bruce Wayne, the palpable joy that he sometimes takes in embarrassing these very children can be truly disconcerting, Dick thinks begrudgingly.

Then he forces himself to open his eyes and meet his father’s inquisitive gaze. “It wasn’t.”

When Bruce doesn’t respond, Dick takes his silence as an invitation to go on.

“Wally did come to my room, but I promise that nothing happened.”

Which is true! At least in terms of the ‘nothing/something’ that Bruce clearly has in mind. What did happen was that Dick and Wally simply talked a lot about all possible sorts of topics, from skating music to Mario Kart – talks which were or were not interrupted every other minute a couple of times by their lips touching… Wally also revealed to him that he had the audacity to call his cat Ginny, because - verbatim - "look at her, she's even more ginger than me!!" Later on, there were Drag Race videos on Dick’s phone and before they knew what was happening, Wally was spooning Dick, holding the smaller boy close in front of him and pressing him against the older boy's firm chest.

Although in retrospect it easily could have been, it was not a sexual gesture, but one of intimacy and trust and comfort, instead. Dick could have simply fallen asleep right then and there, being encircled by Wally’s long arms and sensing the relaxing rhythm of the older boy’s breath on his neck, Wally's heartbeat in sync with his. In fact Dick probably would have fallen asleep, if it had not been for a call from Barry that he wanted to see Wally in his room to talk about the schedule of the following day. Very reluctantly, Wally loosened his arms from Dick’s body and scrambled off the latter’s bed, but not without leaning down towards him one more time, kissing his lips and telling Dick that he loves him – which Dick promptly reciprocated.

So no, nothing indecent or even illegal transpired between the two boys. Still if Dick could have chosen to stay in that moment for the rest of time, being spooned by that the boy he loves, he would have.

An early practice for Wally this morning meant that they didn’t see each other again before Dick and Bruce left for Gotham. But mentally and emotionally, Dick is still in his hotel bed, wrapped in the protective arms of Wally West…

“It just …”, Dick struggles to find words that do justice to the feeling of security that Wally gives him. “… It felt good to be near him, and to be held by him, especially after that competition, so we just lay there and talked. And he … I dunno … he … he calmed me.”

Bruce remains quiet for a moment, during which his inquisitive expression melts into a gentle smile.

“Then I’m very happy for you, Chum.”

“You are?”, Dick asks, surprised by Bruce’s words and the by the way that they begin to make his eyes sting.

“Of course I am, Dick. I’m your dad. My name may not be on your birth certificate, but I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood. There’s nothing in the world that I want more than for my children to be happy, and if Wally West makes you happy, then I’m happy too.”

“Thank you”, Dick suddenly finds himself sniffling, “that really means a lot.”

Dick has never received anything but unconditional support from his family about his identity and sexuality. Still to hear these words coming from Bruce gives Dick a sense of reassurance that he did not know he needed. Especially after what Wally told him about his own family back in Keystone…

“You mean a lot to me, Dick”, Bruce affirms, reaching over to squeeze Dick’s hand affectionately.

When Dick has wiped away the teardrops rolling down his cheeks, Bruce’s tone turns a little less sentimental and a tad more playful.

“In fact you mean so much to me that you should maybe inform Wally about a couple of things before you take things to the next level.”

“Namely?”, Dick inquires strategically, having some idea where Bruce might be headed with this.

“Namely that Alfred once used to work as security guard in Buckingham Palace and knows ways of incapacitating a human body that you could never imagine. Or that the legal department of Wayne Enterprises consists of some of the fiercest attorneys this country has ever produced. And that neither Alfred nor my attorneys would take it lightly if any heart in the Wayne family ever received as much as a scratch, let alone got broken. Do I make myself understood?”

“Loud and clear”, Dick answers with a chuckle, delighted that his suspicion has proven correct. “Though, could I also ask a favour of you, please?”

“I’m listening.”

Now it’s Dick’s turn to smirk.

“Could you maybe give that same speech to Wally himself the first time he comes to Gotham? I’m curious just how pale such a freckled face can get.”

As if on cue, Bruce bursts into laughter, clearly just as entertained by the idea as Dick.

Like father, like son.

***

Despite the newly found self-assurance of being Wally West’s boyfriend, Dick hardly gets any sleep that night. The longer he has to wait for a decision on the Olympic team, the more excruciating the waiting seems to become. Not even the combined calming powers of Alfred’s tea, his brothers’ lovable pestering of him, and good-night texts from Wally are enough to let Dick’s nerves catch a much-needed break. The next morning, Dick can barely concentrate during his private lessons with Dr Nygma. So once the tutoring is done, Dick hops on his bike and cycles through the snowy weather all the way to Gotham Ice Park. His next training session isn’t for another couple of hours, so he figures that a good workout before going on the ice later is just the thing to take his mind elsewhere.

Dick’s body has just started to break a sweat from simulating a steep run on the treadmill when another person enters the section of the gym that is reserved for the elite skaters.

The person has also strikingly red hair, but his shoulders are too broad and his biceps too muscular, even through his loose training jacket, to confuse him with Wally’s build.

“What’s up, Boy Wonder!”, the young man calls out in a rough accent walking over to Dick.

Taking a look over his shoulder, Dick’s face lights up, seeing Roy Harper approach, and he puts a button on the control display to gradually slow down the treadmill until it comes to a standstill.

“Hi Roy!” Dick greets the 24-year-old, jumping off the treadmill and giving his friend a quick hug. Dick barely had any time to spend with the other Gotham skaters at Nationals, especially the pairs whose programmes all took place at the same days as the men’s, so he’s more than glad to see the red head.

“Back at the Park so soon already? Didn’t you guys just come back late last night from the gala?”

Dick only saw short clips online from the gala yesterday, but Roy and Kory were definitely part of the line-up.

As were all Gotham skaters, in fact, Dick remembers sadly, apart from me… No surprise, then, that he could not bring himself to watch the whole thing from start to finish.

“Yeah, we did”, he shrugs, “but the way we got our asses handed to us by Hank and Dove in the free, Kory and I have some work cut out for us. Not to mention these two.” Roy nudges through the large glass wall towards the elite rink below, where Megan Morse and Conner Kent are currently practising their death spiral with their coach Alan Scott. Megan and Conner came third overall at Nationals, but almost outscored Kory and Roy in the free programme, making a huge statement that they will be massive contenders during the next Olympic cycle, and perhaps even dark horses for Montreal.

“Can’t let those young guns outshine us, now, can we, huh?”, Roy laughs.

Unlike Kory and Roy, Dick faces no internal competition at Fries Academy in his discipline. At least for now. Sebastian Ives, Mr Fries’s last male skater to compete internationally, retired early due to health issues right before Dick moved to the senior level, so he’s had Gotham’s men’s singles field all to himself for two years now. Still, Terry McGinnis, who just won the junior men event at Nationals, is barely 13 years old and already performing quad flips. It’s still a few years away, but once that boy becomes a senior, he’s bound to give Dick a good run for his money.

“Still, a title is a title”, Dick claps Roy on the shoulder, “no matter how close it was, so congratulations again. By the way, how many titles is it now for you and Kory?”

“Nationals? Our third if you just count seniors. Five if you include junior”, Roy grins.

As if to emphasize his dominance, Roy zips down and takes off his training jacket with a wink, revealing a ripped upper body clad by a snug wife-beater and muscular arms covered almost entirely by tattoos. Roy sure knows that he’s sexy and he’s definitely not afraid to show it.

From any other guy, this kind of teasing would likely provoke a reaction from Dick similar to seeing a shirtless Wally West at the hotel whirlpool in Metropolis. But Roy is different, more like a big brother to the younger boy, than an object of sexual attraction. Kory and Roy moved from Seattle to Gotham to train at Fries Academy around the same time that Dick decided to become a competitive skater himself, so the two quickly grew a strong fraternal bond together. Roy is the kind of big brother that Dick never had, who not only helps Dick in becoming a better skater but also in being a better sibling to his own little brothers.

Roy was also the first person outside of his family and Barbara to whom Dick mentioned that he’s into guys. Dick had feared that this confession might cause some awkward tension between the two. Roy is straight and has been in an on-and-off relationship with Canadian ice dancer Jade Nguyen for years, so how would he react to his young mentee at the Ice Academy coming out to him as gay? Would Roy possibly think that Dick was coming on to him and therefore dissociate himself from the boy?

Luckily none of that was to be. If anything, their bond only grew stronger after Dick came out to Roy, so much so that Dick’s sexuality became a source for banter and silliness between them. “You do know, Dickieboy”, Roy once joked, “that any boyfriend you bring home in the future not only needs the Manor’s approval, but also mine. And the only way to get my approval is if the guy is at least as hot as me. Which admittedly makes the pool of potential candidates pretty slim, but hey, nothing but the best for the Boy Wonder, right?”

So instead of ogling at Roy’s barely cotton-covered eight-pack abs, Dick just rolls his eyes and affectionately taunts, “Damn, five titles – was nobody else available for that long? I didn’t know the US pairs field was that tragic.”

WHACK!

That little piece of shade earns Dick a slap to his thighs from Roy’s towel.

“Well, some of us still gotta earn our Olympic spots the normal way”, Roy shoots right back.

“Ouch, low blow!”, Dick exclaims, clasping his chest in feigned agony.

“Don’t even try it, Dickieboy”, Roy deadpans, “the Oracle texted me that Olympic jokes are fair play again. Which kinda surprised me, to be honest, considering how upset you were Saturday night.”

“Well, I figured I did enough crying for one National championship”, Dick shrugs, taking a swig from his water bottle. “And if you can’t cry about it, you might as well laugh about it.”

“Speaking of laughing and crying”, Roy then says, “Selina wanted me to let you know that she, Dinah and Mr Fries would like to see you in the old man’s office. Apparently, they just had a Zoom with Diana and Clark.”

Oh.

So they’ve reached a decision…

Roy’s playful smirk turns into an expression of empathy and understanding at the sudden paleness on his younger friend’s face.

“Did she … did say anything else?”, Dick asks in a small voice, anxiety written all over him.

“No, Dickie, she didn’t, at least not to me. I’m sorry.” It’s clear from the concern in his face that Roy would do anything right now to lessen the turmoil currently raging in the teenager.

“Alright then”, Dick exhales shakily. “Let’s hope I won’t have to eat my words about no more crying.” Dick attempts to laugh, but it fails to reach his eyes. Grabbing his water bottle, he gives Roy a nod and heads towards the door.

“Ayo, Rob!”

At the sound of Roy’s old nickname for him, Dick turns around.

“Whatever happens, Kory and I will be here for you. We all will be.”

A small smile appears on Dick’s face, this one actually illuminating the blue depth of his eyes as well.

“Thanks Roy, I appreciate it.”

***

When Dick steps into Victor Fries’ office, he is greeted by a sight that he finds both striking and unnerving. Mr Fries is seated behind his desk, with Selina Kyle and Dinah Lance, Dick’s sport psychologist, on either sides of the table. Another empty chair, clearly meant for Dick, is standing in front of the desk.

All three look expectantly at Dick, who – in spite of his nerves and the apparent seriousness of the situation – cannot stop himself from observing, “Is it just me or does this look an awful lot like a war tribunal?”

“An Olympic tribunal, more like”, Selina smirks, reminding Dick why he has always gotten along so well with his coach. She has a similarly wicked sense of humour to the one that Dick has inevitably developed from years of living in the Manor under the indelible tutelage of one Alfred Pennyworth.

“Please, have a seat, Dick”, Dinah offers in her trademark soothing voice, and gestures towards the empty chair.

There’s no getting out of this, Dick realizes with building dread. Gulping, he closes the door behind him, strides across the office towards the desk and sits down.

“So, Diana and Clark have made a decision, I take it?”, he starts, trying to cover up the rising terror inside of him.

“Yes and no”, Selina answers.

“What do you mean?”, Dick asks in confusion.

Then it’s finally Mr Fries’s turn to speak. “Diana and Clark and all the rest of the selection committee are convinced that you deserve to go to the Olympics. As are we, of course. Your performances in the past transcend any discussions about that, regardless of what happened on Saturday.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming”, Dick points out forebodingly.

“But”, Mr Fries emphasizes with a sigh, “they also must think of US Figure Skating at large, and the light that would be cast on the federation if they selected a sixth-place finisher at Nationals over three skaters who all ranked above him. Even though one of those three is not eligible for Montreal age-wise, it will still reflect badly onto the institution as a fair governing body.”

Dick gulps again. He vaguely recalls looking at the Olympic selection criteria a few years ago. Back then, he’d only skimmed through them – mainly because it was unimaginable that he’d be in situation where his nomination to the Olympic team would ever be in question.

What he does remember now is that there are criteria for both US National placements and international body of work, based on which athletes are ranked in different priority groups. Regarding US Nationals, things look pretty grim indeed for Dick. The fact that he didn’t place within the top five means that he does not even qualify for the lowest priority group in the US Nationals criteria. On the other hand, his international scores this season and the previous one have been much higher than of all of the top five at Nationals besides Wally and would definitely put him in medal contention in Montreal. After all, Dick doesn’t hold the World record for the free programme score for nothing.

So, all things considered, whether the committee makes their decision based on Nationals or body of work, it could really go either way, Dick concludes.

Taking a long and deep breath, Dick finally breaks the unbearable silence.

“…So?”

“…So”, Mr Fries picks up, “we have all unanimously decided that the best thing to do right now is to send you to Four Continents.”

Dick’s mouth falls open.

“What?! Four Continents?! That’s next week! In Korea!”

“We are well aware of that, Dick”, Selina comments drily, “but thank you for the reminder”.

The Four Continents Championships, also known as just 4CC is an annual figure skating competition that traditionally takes place at the end of January after all National competitions around the world are over. Skaters from all non-European countries across the globe can enter. Established in the late 90s, it was conceived as a kind of counter-tournament to the European Championships, which have long since provided skaters from Europe a valuable opportunity to compete one more time before the Olympics and Worlds.

As a federation and as a skater, there are many different ways to approach 4CC. In its early years, 4CC tended to suffer a pretty bad reputation as a B-tier competition to which countries would only send those skaters who weren’t strong enough to qualify for Worlds. For some federations, that is often still the case. The US, for example frequently send the alternates rather than the outright nominees for Worlds to 4CC to keep them oiled and ready, should they indeed have to replace someone on the Worlds team. Other countries instead go all in, sending their Olympic and Worlds roster to 4CC and using the competition as another test run for the main event. This strategy is pretty popular in Asia, which explains why countries like Japan or Korea have dominated 4CC so much over the past few years.

Still, if the federation is sending Dick to 4CC, does that mean that he won’t go to the Olympics? A consolation prize for the real goal that he gambled away at Nationals? Is this the best they can offer him after his poor showing on the weekend? Has he been demoted from gold medal favourite to an alternate?

Panic is spreading in Dick while the acidic voice in his head begins to sneer.

Be grateful, Grayson. After Nationals, 4CC is more than you deserve. Imagine being so delusional to think the feds would still give you an Olympic spot after that free skate…

Yet, before Dick’s internal unrest can escalate even further, Mr Fries’s voice pulls him back into there here and now.

“Jackson Hyde and Jaime Reyes will be going too. Whoever places the highest out of the three of you, will receive the third spot on the Olympic team.”

WHAT?!

This revelation catches Dick sideways.

“…So it is a skate-off?”, Dick whispers, almost afraid that speaking it aloud will make the possibility vanish into thin air.

“Yes”, Mr Fries answers statesmanlike. “We are aware that this is an unorthodox procedure, at least in the US. Four Continents is one of the competitions to be considered as part of a skater’s overall body of work, although it usually refers to the 4CC edition the previous season, not the one of the current season that takes place just a few weeks before the Olympics. Nevertheless both we and the federation felt that this is the only way to still give you a chance to go to Montreal without causing any major uproar in the community and the press. The deadline for confirming the Olympic entries is the Monday after Four Continents, so technically speaking, the competition is still within the deliberation period."

It’s true. Usually, the Olympic and World teams are decided right after Nationals and before 4CC. Still it’s not completely out of the ream of imagination to basically use 4CC as an additional internal skate-off. In exceptional circumstances, if a federation is on the fence after Nationals as to who to assign to the final spot on a Worlds team, they can sometimes host further non-public try-out events or monitoring sessions to reach a decision. Russia, for example, have so many high-level skaters in all disciplines that they sometimes finalize their team selection only after the European Championships. So why should the US not do the same with 4CC?

…Am I an exceptional circumstance, though?, Dick suddenly wonders.

Exceptionally good?

Or exceptionally bad?

Dick says nothing. He knows he should be thankful for this opportunity. The federation could have easily gone with the top three at Nationals just as well, and Dick’s Olympic dream would have been dead on arrival. But they didn’t. They chose to give his dream a second chance.

But will I be strong enough to take that second chance?, he questions in silent concern, when I couldn’t even take the first one? How is he supposed to outskate both Jackson and Jaime at 4CC when he wasn’t even able to outskate them at Nationals? What’s changed now, compared to last week?

But then a small encouraging voice within him reminds Dick that one thing has indeed changed since Nationals, the thing that distracted him in Metropolis more than anything else and that could make a difference in Korea.

Wally.

Dick no longer has to compare himself to Wally. No longer has to wonder whether Wally feels the same way about Dick as Dick feels about Wally. Because after the past week-end, Dick does know. Wally does feel the same.

All it took to find out was one disastrous free skate that almost destroyed any hopes of Dick going to the Olympics – as well as a tearful breakdown in the locker room that may just have been enough to turn Dick’s fate around.

“Dick”, Selina’s voice suddenly breaks through Dick’s train of ginger-haired thoughts, “this is an amazing opportunity for you, especially after you missed the Grand Prix Final. You will be competing in front of international judges and against many skaters who will also be in Montreal. There’s no better way to gain momentum going into the Olympics.”

“If I actually end up going to the Olympics”, Dick laughs nervously.

Then, Dinah gently enters the conversation. “Dick, please remind us – why did you choose Moonlight Sonata for your free programme this season?”

Dick smiles at the Dé jà-vu in his mind to his chat with Alfred a few weeks ago.

“Because I wanted to skate to it at the Olympics – for my mom”, he answers truthfully.

“And that’s exactly what you’re going to do”, Dinah assures him, leaning forward to squeeze his knee. “For your mom. At the Olympics. And it will be amazing, I promise.”

Maybe Dinah’s right. Maybe they are all right. Jackson and Jaime did outscore Dick at Nationals, it’s true. But what’s also true is that Dick repeatedly outscored them their entire careers before that. Before he had a loving and supportive boyfriend by his side to make him even better.

Maybe I am going to Montreal after all, Dick muses, feeling a seed of hope beginning to bloom in his chest.

But then another thought enters Dick's mind.

Taking a look at Mr Fries's faze, Dick tentatively asks, "I take it you're still bound to Gotham?"

A sad smile emerges on the old coach's face, which looks unchanged from the last time that Dick saw him before Nationals. "I'm afraid yes. But my doctors are optimistic that I will be able to travel to Montreal in Februrary."

"Of course, I understand", Dick responds politely. He still doesn't know what health issues Mr Fries are suffering, but if they are such that they prohibit him from travelling to 4CC, they must be substantial, no matter how much he tries to reassure Dick that they are not.

All the more reason I make it to Montreal, Dick figures determinedly, so that I can return something to this man who has given me so much. So that his school gets the Olympic moment that Nora Fries would have wished for it.

Then Dick directs his attention towards Selina.

“So, uhm, when exactly are we leaving?”

“On Monday”, Selina answers. “It’s a direct flight from Metropolis, so brace yourself for 16 hours on a plane.”

Dick stays silent for a moment, then his pensive expression transforms into a smile. “Well in that case, I better get on the ice and land some quad Axels, huh?”

Chapter Text

Crunch

Dick side-eyes Barbara as another piece of popcorn finds its way into his best friend’s mouth. Right now, he’s chilling on Barbara’s bed in the Gordons’ apartment in downtown Gotham after an exhausting marathon of practice on the ice. In two days, Dick’s flying to Korea for Four Continents, and even though his run-throughs have been going well all week, he needed to see his best friend one more time before the flight.

It’s bad enough that Wally is hundreds of miles away from him and busy with his own training regime to peak just in time for the Olympics.

To which I have yet to qualify…

Still, Barbara being an even bigger figure skating nerd than Dick, ‘chilling at the Gordons’ in this case means Barbara sitting in her wheel chair, snacking on some popcorn with one hand while checking the list of entries for 4CC on her phone with the other. Meanwhile, Dick is resting his tired back against the wall, watching the TV screen on the opposite side of the room that is currently live streaming the men’s free skate at the European Championships in Milan. At the moment, though, the ice is being resurfaced for the final flight of skaters, so Dick has nothing to distract himself from the repeated crunching noises and the annoyingly delicious scent of his friend’s sweet snack.

Crunch

Finally, Dick snaps.

“Do you have any idea how cruel it is to just eat popcorn right in front of someone who you know very well is not allowed to have any himself?”

“Best friend privilege”, Barbara deadpans without looking from her phone.

“Maybe I should revoke your best friend card”, Dick grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Go on ahead, try and find a better bestie than me, I’ll wait”, Barbara quibs, giving Dick a smirk over her shoulder.

When her eyes return to her phone, she exclaims, “My goodness, have you looked at the entries for Four Continents?! That men’s field is stacked, Dickie!”

“I know, tell me about it…”, Dick moans, grabbing one of the many pillows on Barbara’s bed and burying his head in it.

“Jiro Osamu and Tanaka Rei?”

Osamu and Rei are the old guard of the field; they won gold and silver respectively at the last Olympic Games four yours ago and are likely to retire after Montreal. Their current seasons have been plagued by injuries which kept both of them off the podium at the Grand Prix Final. Still, if they are healthy and deliver clean performances, they cannot be discounted for any medal, neither at 4CC nor at the Olympics.

“AND Connor Hawke?

“I know, right?!”, comes Dick’s muffled voice, pressing his face deeper into the pillow.

If Dick was the breakthrough shooting star of last season, then Connor Hawke takes that title this year. The 16-year-old is representing Korea, but was infamously born in the US as the illegitimate son of rich-boy pairs skater Oliver Queen and Korean choreographer and former single skater Sandra Hawke. Legend has it the two met at a training camp in Boston years ago when they were both still juniors and instantly connected. The training camp led to a short-lived but passionate affair, at the end of which Sandra found herself pregnant with Connor and Oliver unwilling to care for the son beyond financial support. Making a bold decision, Sandra decided to keep her son and relocated back to the country of her birth, where she switched from a career as competitive skater to choreographer and raised her son on her own.

16 years later, Connor has become the new rising star of Korean figure skating, winning Junior Worlds last year and placing third at his first Grand Prix Final as a senior in December. His strong season continued with a confident victory at Korean Nationals, and with 4CC taking place in Seoul, Connor is sure to have the home crowd on his side.

“And Jean-Paul Valley is going too?!”, Barbara exclaims, continuing to scroll down the list of entries. “He literally just competed at Canadian Nationals last week! How is he doing that?”

“You tell me”, Dick shrugs, releasing his face from Barbara’s pillow. “I guess Canada want to make sure that he’s as trained and consistent as possible before going to Montreal.”

“He’ll be as exhausted as possible going into Montreal, is what he’ll be like that”, she comments, shaking her head.

“Exhausted or not”, Dick sighs, “as you can see I not only have Jackson Hyde and Jaime Reyes to worry about, but basically the entire final group at the Olympics, bar Wally.”

“Speaking of Jackson Hyde”, Barbara puts her phone down and turns towards him, “did you read his Instagram post yesterday?

“No, I’ve been logged out of social media. Why? What did he say?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know”, Barbara grimaces. “It was some passive aggressive bs about having to go to Four Continents when he was clearly third at Nationals and should just be given the Olympic spot here and now. Also, he basically implied that the federation is favouring you and that’s the only reason why you’re even still in the running.”

Dick tries to ignore the small acidic voice in the back of his head whispering that Jackson is right…

“Well”, Dick sighs darkly, “that’s not gonna endear him to the federation. At all. They do not like it when people object to their decisions, no matter how passive the aggression.”

“Well, suffice to say”, Barbara continues with a raised eyebrow, “Jaime Reyes liked the post and left a supportive comment, so don’t expect your fellow US men to be all too warm and fuzzy towards you in Seoul.”

“Urgh, as long as I don’t have to sit next to them on the arena bus…”, Dick rolls his eyes, but can’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. His bad conscience after Nationals was big enough all by himself. He does not need his begrudging rivals pour any more oil into the flame, especially when he must be focussed mentally. 4CC is his final chance to go to Montreal. If Dick messes up again, it’s game over.

“Is anyone else from Gotham going?”, Barbara inquires, pulling Dick out of his draining mind game.

“No, aside from the men, it’s all just the alternates for Worlds.”

I’ve been degraded down from World champion to a quasi-alternate…

As if reading Dick’s mind, Barbara reaches over and squeezes Dick’s knee. “You’ll be fine, Dickie, don’t worry about 4CC.”

“What makes you say that?”, Dick asks, an unconvinced frown on his face.

“Because I saw you in training, Boy Wonder!”, she cheers. “That quad Axel looks better than ever!”

“That’s what Selina said before Nationals too…”, he mumbles, still frowning.

“Oh goddammit”, Barbara cries out in exasperation, “will you forget about Nationals already?! It was just a slip up. 4CC is a new day, and as long you don’t stay up all night before the free skate sexting Wally, you’ll be fine.”

“BABS!!!” Dick yelps, blood rushing to his cheeks instantly. How could she possibly know about Dick and Wally?! Bruce is the only person whom Dick told about their relationship so far. If Barbara’s spying network has infiltrated even Wayne Manor, then truly nobody is safe from her.

“Oh please, Dickie”, she rolls her eyes, “cut the ‘I’m oh so innocent and naïve and offended’ crap and stop acting like you haven’t been facetiming Keystone every night since Nationals.”

Barbara looks at Dick with an expression that the 17-year-old boy only knows all too well from his older friend. It’s an expression that screams We both know I’m right so let’s waste no more time by arguing, shall we?.

Finally admitting defeat, Dick mutters, “…How do you know?”

Babs’s Cut the crap face turns into a smug grin. “I do have my sources. After all, they call me the Oracle for a reason, remember?”

Dick says nothing, merely feeling his cheeks grow hotter by the second.

“But seriously, Dickie, I’m very happy for you”, she says with sincerity in her voice. “The two of you make a pretty cute couple, based on the BirdFlash fan art I’ve seen on Twitter."

Dick’s reddening head feels like it’s about to explode.

“BIRDFLASH?! We have a shipping name? And fan art too?!”

“Just wait till you read the fanfics about you”, Barbara giggles, “It’s juicy. My favourite one is ‘Call me by our Axel’.”

Dick buries his face in his hands again.

“Can we please talk about literally anything else?!”

Luckily, that very instant, the ice maintenance break at Europeans come to end and the final flight of skaters take to the ice, so Babs and Dick both refocus their attention on the screen opposite them.

The skaters line up and are announced to the audience in the arena and the spectators at home. The men’s discipline has been dominated by athletes from Asia and North America over the last few years, with only very few European skaters being strong enough to break into the global top.

With the exception of the man who is announced as second-to-last.

“From France, ANDRÉ BLANC-DUMONT!”

The spotlight centres on an unspeakably gorgeous young man with wavy brown hair. His tall, lean body is dressed in white trousers and a loose-fitted white shirt that is unbuttoned just enough to show a glimpse of the toned chest beneath. In contrast to most of the other skaters on the ice, not a single rhine stone can be seen sparkling on his costume.

“Oh André…”, Dick sighs, his face becoming a human version of the heart-eye emoji.

Barbara side-eyes Dick sceptically. “Should I be worried? Or rather, should Wally be worried?”

Noticing the way Barbara stares at him, Dick clears his throat in slight embarrassment. “Uhm, no, I just find that he’s the most beautiful skater in the world. And I’m still allowed to have opinions, aren’t I?”

…Like the opinion that if Wally and I weren’t together, and if I didn’t know for certain that 22-year-old André was dating a ballerino from Paris, I’d totally jump onto the next plane to Charles de Gaulle Airport?

“And that opinion is solely based on his skating, isnt’t?”, Barbara narrows her eyes on Dick.

“Yes, of course!”, Dick tries to defend himself, sensing his face grow red again. Dick has met André a few times over the last couple of years on the competitive circuit, and he is in fact not only one of the most elegant skaters Dick has ever seen; he has also stayed completely down to earth and is genuinely unaware of how gifted he is, both in terms of athletics and looks.

But then a thought hits Dick. The skaters are introduced in the order in which they perform, i.e. in the reverse order of their placements in the short programme. Thus, being called out second-to-last, this means that André isn’t in first place.

“Wait a minute!”, Dick starts, “Why is André second?”

Dick has just finished his question when the spotlight in Milan moves onto the final skater and gives Dick his answer.

A broad-shouldered, square-jawed man with fashionably tousled beach blond hair waves to the crowd. He’s wearing what seem to be ripped black jeans, a white wife-beater that accentuates a ripped torso underneath, and a biker jacket made out of bright red leather.

The announcer in the arena proclaims, “From the Russian Federation, VALENTIN STRELTSOV!”

This must be a nightmare…, Dick gasps silently, dread sipping into the cracks of his psyche.

Valentin Streltsov is Russia’s strongest male skater. Or rather, was, because due to a plethora of injuries and health issues, Streltsov didn’t compete at all during the previous two seasons and was considered by many, Dick included, all but retired from the sport.

Watching the confident smirk on his chiselled cheeks, Dick kind of wishes that Streltsov actually would have retired. Not because Streltsov isn’t a great skater, but because he is. So great in fact that Streltsov is the only skater apart from Dick who managed to beat Wally during the past Olympic cycle. Granted, that was four years ago at the Worlds and the Grand Prix Final following the Winter Olympics in Munich. Back then, Wally had not yet matured into the masterful skater that he is today; at the World Championships the following year, it was Wally, not Valentin, who ended up victorious.

Still, that does not change the fact that when the 23-year-old is in peak shape, Streltsov is capable of anything, even beating the great Wally West.

And if he can beat Wally, he can beat me too…

Panic on his face, Dick whips his head in Barbara’s direction and yells, “HE’S BACK?!”

“Yeah, of course”, Barbara shrugs, clearly surprised not by Streltsov’s comeback, but by Dick’s unawareness of it. “Didn’t you hear?”

“You know very well that I block and ignore any kind of figure skating coverage that comes out of that country”, Dick murmurs.

Memories of homophobic tweets after he skated to Lady Gaga at Junior Worlds flash up in Dicks mind. Some of those tweets even came from none other than Ishmael Gregor, who is now coaching Streltsov. No wonder, then, that his student is rumoured to have inherited the same small-mindedness of his teacher and even fashions himself as the BAD BOY of Russian figure skating in the media.

“Sorry”, Barbara flinches, clearly remembering just now Dick’s nasty back story with Russia. “Well, to give you the run-down,”, she continues carefully, “yes, Valentin Streltsov is back and apparently in the best shape of his life. He competed at Russian Nationals and absolutely killed it, and now at Europeans he has a 14-point lead over André before the Free.”

“14?!”, Dick repeats loudly and disbelievingly. He knows that André, while artistically on a level with Dick himself, isn’t the strongest and most consistent jumper, but a 14-point-gap would be unheard of and unnerving indeed.

“Yeah, unfortunately. 14 freaking points." Barbara looks at Dick with a knowing expression. “Listen, Dick, I’m rooting for André too, but if Valentin skates like he did yesterday, he’s unbeatable. Apparently, he’s planning five quads.”

A sickening, nauseating sensation begins to turn Dick’s stomach upside down and continues all the way through the six-minute warm-up. By the time Streltsov’s achievements are read out, Dick feels like he’s about to throw up.

“He is a former World and Grand Prix Final champion and a two-time European Champion. After an absence from the sport for over two years due to injuries, he returned to competitive ice in December to win his third National title and is currently in first place. Representing the Russian Federation, VALENTIN STRELTSOV!”

The sold-out crowd cheer as Streltsov executes a textbook triple Axel, and Dick’s eyes almost pop out of his head when he hears Barbara confess, “You gotta admit, he’s pretty darn sexy.”

Objectively, she’s not wrong, Dick acknowledges quietly, but still…

“He’s also a prick, from what I remember,” Dick retorts out loud. “Calls himself the Bad Boy. Can you believe that?”

“You ever competed against him?”

“No, I was still a Junior when he last competed. Wally did, though.”

The thought that I will have to go up against that guy if I want to win gold in Montreal…

Thankfully, the first four free skates go by in a blurry rush, so in no time André Blanc-Dumont takes to the ice, cheered on by what sounds a massive group of French fans who travelled across the border to Italy for his performance.

André skates to ‘Mr/Mme’, a stunning piano ballad by Belgian singer Loïc Nottet. The French-language song grows more emotional and desperate as it continues, a perfect match to André’s naturally lyrical style. In Dick’s humble opinion, it is the most beautiful programme in the men’s field this season – which is ironic since that is probably what most people would say about Dick’s very own Moonlight Sonata.

Today, though, that beauty is unfortunately hampered by a subpar technical execution. André falls on his opening quad Salchow and puts a hand on the ice after his triple Axel. While he manages to land his other jumps, at least a couple of them look noticeably underrotated, which will cost him several dear points. Points that you cannot afford to miss against Valentin Streltsov in the shape of his life.

When the programme finishes, André receives a huge ovation from the audience as he always does, being a massive fan favourite among the European skaters. He takes his bow with a grateful yet strained smile, knowing fully well that his free skate likely won’t be enough against Streltsov. His bittersweet expression in the Kiss and Cry at the score announcements a couple of minutes later all but confirms it.

“André Blanc-Dumont from France has earned in the free skate 184.02 points and a total competition score 279.48 points. This puts him currently in first place.”

Currently, but not for long. Dick knows it, and André clearly knows it too, going by the lacklustre way he waves at the audience in the arena. Streltsov only needs a meagre 169,15 points to overtake him, and with five quads planned, he would practically have to miss every single element of his programme to score anywhere near that low.

And even then, the notoriously Russia-friendly judging panel at Europeans would probably find a way to lift their golden bad boy above his rival anyway, Dick figures darkly.

UnFortunately, no such manipulations are necessary once Streltsov takes the ice and begins his free programme to “Seven Nation Army” by the White Stripes. Like Wally, Streltsov opens his programme with a quad Lutz – triple toe loop combination which quite possibly looks even higher and faster than the one that Wally performed at Nationals. From then on, one perfect quad jump follows after another. Apart from the quad Axel, Streltsov is attempting every quad jump there is, and nails every one of them without exception. From a technical stand point, Dick has to admit that this is one of the strongest free skates he has ever seen.

And even artistically, the performance has its merit. Surely, Streltsov will never possess the balletic grace of André Blanc-Dumont or Dick himself, but the cocky, ferocious energy of the rock music certainly fits him exceptionally well. In theory, your technique and your artistic abilities are judged independently. In practice, however, judges will always (wrongly) inflate your artistic scores above what they really should be simply because you deliver difficult jumps, which gives technical skaters like Streltsov an unfair advantage over more artistically (but less technically) inclined skaters like Blanc-Dumont.

If Valentin Streltsov has both the jumps and the programme to justify high Programme Component Scores (PSC), he will be pretty tough to beat.

Even for me, Dick realizes, feeling nervous beads of sweat gathering on his forehead as he watches Streltsov transition into a lightning-fast combination spin to finish the programme.

When the music comes to a crashing stop, the audience jump to their feet and Valentin throws a fist into air, a primal scream of triumph breaking forth from his lungs – which, unlike most skaters after a four-minute free skate, are barely heaving from exhaustion.

Taking his bows to the packed stands, Streltsov has a sickeningly smug grin on his face, and what’s worse is that Dick can’t even fully blame him for being that smug. Streltsov knows that he just delivered the skate of a lifetime which will earn him his third European title. The only question remaining is just how high his winning score will be – and what that score will mean for Montreal…

“Well, Dickieboy”, Barbara mumbles into the monotonous applause sounds coming out of the TV, “I hate to be the wet blanket, but if you really want to win that Olympic gold medal, then Wally may no longer be your biggest hurdle.”

Dick neither responds nor looks at Barbara, unable to take his eyes off the screen, but he knows she is right. For the longest time, the media have focussed on Wally versus Dick as the battle for the Olympic gold medal. But if Streltsov skates like that Montreal, then maybe the gold medal in men’s figure skating won’t to go to the US at all.

And to think Streltsov just did that without apparently even trying…

Of course, Russia has a long history of doping in all kinds of sports, especially figure skating. But after the last Olympics, anti-doping regulations became so strict and consequential that it’s now borderline impossible to take any performance-enhancing drugs at international events like Europeans without detection. Streltsov may be a narcissistic *sshole, but he’s not stupid enough to  risk his competitive career like that.

No, this performance came all from himself – which makes it even more unnerving for Dick.

After the replay which shows in minute, frustrating detail just how well each and every element of that free skate was executed, the camera cuts to Valentin Streltsov and his coach sitting in the Kiss and Cry, wide grins on both of their faces. Promplty, Streltsov pops up the collar of his leather jacket and flexes both of his biceps, the powerful arms visibly bulging through the tight red material of his jacket. The announcer reads out the inevitable result.

“Valentin Streltsov from Russia has earned in the free skate 224.97 points and a total competition score of 335.31 points. This is a new personal best and puts him in first place. He is the new EUROPEAN CHAMPION!”

Instantaneously, Streltsov leaps to his feet and lets out another scream, throwing out his arms like he’s Russell Crow in Gladiator yelling ‘Are you not entertained?!’.

Dick, meanwhile, feels like the ground beneath his feet has just vanished and he’s in a freefall into nothingness. Barbara’s voice is the only thing tethering him to the here and now.

“Wait a sec”, his best friend gasps, “did he just break your free skate World record, Dickie?”

Dick merely nods, unable to articulate the crushing reality-check in his mind.

Yup, he just did. Barely, but he did. And he didn’t even need a quad Axel to do so.

I’m so completely royally fucked…

Dick stays silent for a moment, simply watching Streltsov gesture cockily at the roaring crowd in the arena. Then another thought enters his head.

Maybe it’s best if I don’t even qualify for the Olympics. So that I spare myself the humiliation of getting annihilated by this guy in front of the whole world watching…

Dick’s spiralling thoughts are interrupted when Streltsov suddenly bends forward to speak directly into the camera.

“Yeah that’s right!”, he hisses with a Russian accent. “I crushed that French f*ggot and I’m gonna crush those American f*ggots, too! I’m gonna – “

ZZZPPP

The TV suddenly switches off, and Dick turns to Barbara, who has her finger pressed on the on/off button of the remote control, the furious red of her face matching her hair and a striking contrast to Dick’s very own ghostly whiteness.

“Well, at least we know that his nick name still fits”, she murmurs sarcastically.

Then, noticing Dick look at her with frightening paleness, Barbara throws the remote aside, turns to Dick and grips both of his hands.

“Hey, Dickie, look into my eyes.”

Dick complies silently.

“Streltsov isn’t at 4CC. You won’t have to worry about him there.” She squeezes his hands reassuringly.

“But I will have to worry about him in Montreal if I want a shot at gold”, Dick whispers hopelessly. “And if he skates like that, I’ll have a snowflake’s chance in hell of beating him. That guy just broke my World record without even trying. He was barely out of breath after that programme.”

“One step at a time, Dickie.” Another squeeze of his hands. “First, we gotta get you to the Olympics, then you can work on how to win the Olympics. Streltsov looks strong, but he’s not invincible. Nobody is.”

Especially not me, Dick wants to add darkly.

The raspy voice of an elderly man rings to them through the open doorframe.

“Barbara, can you help me out here for a sec?”

Barbara sighs, then yells back, “Coming, Dad!” Refocusing on Dick, she promises, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Dick nods, but already misses the calming closeness of his best friend as soon as she lets go of his hands and wheels out of the room. Sometimes, Dick wonders where and who he would be in life without Barbara. Certainly not a World champion, let alone still a competitive figure skater.

A World champion who may not even qualify for the Olympics, the small acidic, voice in his head comments slyly, this time in a noticeably Russian accent.

A World champion who’ll get his ass handed to him at the Olympics, if he even qualifies, that voice then adds.

BUZZ

Pulling out his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, Dick finds the screen lit up by a new text message from Wally. It only contains two words.

oh shit

Dick can’t disagree.

Chapter Text

“Alright, Chum, have a safe flight, and a great competition.”

Dick closes his eyes, enjoying the warm weight of Bruce’s arms engulfing him one more time. After a moment, the billionaire looses his hold of his oldest son, seemingly just as reluctant to let go as the 17-year-old in his arms.

It’s the day of Dick’s departure for Four Continents in Korea and the whole Wayne family has gathered on the front steps of the Manor to bid Dick farewell. Selina is standing aside, watching the situation fondly, ready to drive Dick and herself to Metropolis. From there, the two of them will fly out to Seoul for the competition that will decide Dick’s Olympic fate.

Talia gives a Dick a soft kiss on his cheeks and says, “And remember that you can always call us, no matter the time. We wish you all the best of luck in the world”. The Damian-sized bundle in her arms is wriggling wildly, as if demanding to be taken for the ride as carry-on luggage.

“Thank you”, Dick speaks gratefully. Then he quickly moves on to bear-hug Tim and Jason all at once before they can escape his grasp.

When Dick has concluded the round of farewell hugs with Alfred, the butler pointedly raises his eye brows in the direction of Dick’s younger brothers and announces, “Speaking of luck…”

“Oh, shoot!”, Tim suddenly exclaims and quickly runs back into the house. A minute later, he reappears, clearly hiding something behind his back.

“We almost forgot”, he smiles nervously, a little out of breath. Then he reveals the object behind his back and extends it towards Dick. “This is for you. A good luck charm from all of us.”

Held up by Tim’s small hands is one of the many plush elephants that Dick has collected in competitions over the years. But not just any random one. By the rainbow-coloured tail hairs, Dick recognizes it as the one that he picked off the ice after the free programme at last year’s World Championships.

Where he landed the quad Axel. And won gold. And broke the World record.

Now, though, this elephant is also dressed in a miniature version of Dick’s Flying Graysons vest, complete with a stitched-on R for Robin. Across the red fabric, all of his family members have signed their names in gold writing.

Dick is speechless, and forced to blink rapidly to keep the watery sting in his eyes at bay.

“This is… This is amazing”, he manages to say in a trembling voice. “Thank you so much!”

“Alfie stitched up the costume”, Tim grins, clearly relieved that his oldest brother appreciates their gift.

“I only applied some needle work”, the butler adds in his trademark self-deprecating manner. “It was actually Master Jason who had the idea.”

“Jay?”

Dick’s head pivots towards his oldest little brother, whose cheeks turn a shade of red to match the colour of the stuffed elephant’s uniform.

“Yeah, well, I just thought since none of us join can you this time maybe you wanted something to take with you”, Jason mumbles, kicking up a non-existent gravel on the ground. “As a reminder of your folks at home, ya know…”

No longer able to hold back a sob, Dick, wraps his arms so fast around Jason that he makes the younger boy yelp. “Thank you so much, Little Wing”, he cries softly into his brother’s shoulder.

For so long, Dick feared that Jason would hate him, simply because of having to live in the shadow of the great Dick ‘Boy Wonder’ Grayson, the younger brother of the prodigy, of the golden boy of US figure skating. For most boys, that would be enough to develop a grudge on their oldest brothers. Just because of the unfair footsteps that they are expected to follow.

But not for Jason.

For all the teasing and bickering and fighting…

He loves me. And I love him. More than he will ever know.

In fact, Dick loves Jason so much that he wilfully ignores the watery shimmer in his little’s brother’s eyes when they pull apart. “Knock ‘em dead, Dickie”, Jason smiles hopefully.

“I will”, Dick promises.

***

“There we are, 17 E. Okay, see you on the other side, Dick!”, Selina grins, taking a seat in the middle section of row 17.

Dick is the only skater from Gotham and Metropolis to compete at 4CC this year. Unlike the Olympics where many of the figure skaters tend to travel to the host cities collectively, with smaller competitions athletes and coaches usually fly out on their own. While this often means long periods of travelling with nobody to talk to, today Dick is not complaining.

The later I come face to face with Jackson and Jaime, the better… he muses darkly.

Reaching row 21, Dick stows away his carry-on suitcase in the overhead compartments and sits down in seat A right by the window. The car ride to Metropolis was casual and uneventful, and even though Dick usually copes with jet lag quite well, he intends to get as much sleep during the flight as he can to be fully energized for 4CC. He’s just about to pull his head phones out his backpack when a deep, manly voice above him saying Dick’s name catches his attention.

“20, 21, 21 A, 21 B – here it is. Oh, hi Dick!”

Looking up to the owner of that voice, Dick is met by startling blue eyes, short but wavy dark hair and cheekbones chiselled straight out of marble. The body on which that glorious head is resting is toned, tall and broadly shouldered, the statue of a Roman god come to wet-dream-inducing life. Only that instead of divine silken robes, Roman gods these days apparently opt for sleek black leather jackets instead.

It takes several seconds for Dick’s gay brain to return to reality and remember that he has actually seen the man currently standing in the aisle two seats away from him before. Not just any man, though. The man. The man whose incredible throwing power earned him the nick name ‘Man of Steel’ as a pair skater.

“Oh! Uhm, hello, Mr K-Kent”, Dick stutters, the vision of leather-clad Clark Kent making him feel all of 12-years-old and deeply closeted again.

Roughly 5 years ago, on a lazy post-training Sunday night, Dick found himself on his bed, going down a figure skating themed rabbit hole on YouTube, when he suddenly hit upon an old free programme by Diana Prince and Clark Kent. It was their iconic Grease programme, with Diana styled as the perfect Sandy, and Clark as the sexiest T-Bird greaser the world (and the not yet sexually awoken Dick Grayson) had ever seen. His impressive muscles were clad in a black leather biker jacket and his shiny hair was slicked back smoothly, giving him the irresistible look of a biker gang leader who’s not only hot but knows that he’s hot too.

To be fair, though, if you looked like the Man of Steel, how could you look in the mirror and not recognize that you are hot?

At the ripe age of 12, though, Dick had never heard labels such as ‘gay’, ‘homosexual’ or ‘queer’ before; let alone did he know what they meant. But what he did know in that moment, watching leather-clad Clark Kent speed across the ice with that cocky little smirk on his face, was that he’d never wanted – no, had never needed – to wrap his arms around and touch another human being as urgently as he did the young pairs skater from Metropolis.

And now that pair skater has matured into arguably the most handsome man the sport of figure skating has ever known, dressed once again in a black leather jacket and about to spend the next 16 hours seated shoulder to shoulder with a highly flustered Dick Grayson.

Maybe I don’t make it to the Olympics because of my bad skating, Dick realizes suddenly, but simply because I’ll die on this plane, here and now.

It’s not like Dick has never met Clark in person before. He has, many times in fact, the last of which was just recently at Nationals. But Clark has never been this close to him before. And certainly never dressed in a leather jacket…

As if completely unaware of the hormonal turmoil that he’s just caused in the 17-year-old boy, Clark smiles brightly and says, “Oh please, do call me Clark. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for the next 16 hours, so I say we skip the formalities, shall we?”

“Fine by me”, Dick answers breathily after a beat, while the not-so-innocent part of his teenage brain wants to add that Clark really is fine in all the right ways…

His smile broadening, Clark lifts up his carry-on suitcase and places it in the overhead lockers, and Dick certainly does not notice how the grey sweater underneath Clark’s leather jacket rises up ever so slightly above his waist line, giving Dick the tiniest teaser of the famously ripped eight-pack muscles that Dick knows from Clark’s Men’s Health photoshoot are hiding beneath.

Just as certainly as Dick does not have to bite his tongue and suppress the needy moan on his lips when Clark strips out of his leather jacket and hangs it on the coat hook of the seat in front of his, fully revealing the grey sweater so slim that it clings to Clark’s toned body like a second skin. Some skaters get a bit out of shape once they retire from the rigorous schedule of competing, but it seems as if Clark has only gotten more ripped since the end of his competitive career four years ago.

With a huff, Clark plunges down into seat 21 B next to Dick’s 21 A, and almost instantly, Dick finds his senses engulfed by the combined masculine scents of leather, wool, and whatever earthy aftershave Clark is using. And from one moment to the next, the Boy Wonder realizes just how grateful he is that he decided to wear dark, baggy sweatpants for this long flight, rather than bright, slim-fit jeans…

Much to Dick’s relief, Clark reaches for his leather jacket right away, pulls out his phone out of the inside pocket and starts texting people. The last thing he needs right now is having to force a conversation with the very man who caused Dick’s gay awakening. Closing his eyes, Dick inhales and exhales deeply, trying to get his body and his nerves under control. However, the persistent fragrance of Clark’s leather jacket as well as the sensation of Clark’s elbow lightly brushing against Dick’s make that rather hard difficult. As does the shaking and vibrating of Dick’s body upon take-off.

Get it together, Boy Wonder, Dick chastises himself silently. You have a boyfriend! Meanwhile, Clark is twice your age, happily married and has a freaking son. Plus, his kid brother is your training mate in Gotham!

… And yet, looking won’t hurt, will it?

When the plane has broken through the clouds over Metropolis and the tell-tale bing sound signals that the seat belts can be unfastened, Dick dares to open his eyes again, and is met by Clark’s eyes gazing out of the small window next to Dick’s head in awe.

“Ahhh, I just love flying. Don’t you? There’s something about shooting through the clouds and seeing the world from above that is just so calming and liberating.”

Truth be told, Dick finds himself more fascinated by the brightness of Clark’s eyes than of the sky outside, but he still replies, “Oh yeah, I totally agree. I love being in the air. Wally hates it though. He’s scared of flying, actually.”

Immediately Dick wants to bite his tongue. Now why in his ever-loving, quad-Axeling mind would he think of mentioning Wally in front of Clark freaking Kent? The co-head of the US Figure Skating Federation? The last person on Earth Dick wants to find out about his ginger rival-turned-boyfriend?

Of course, Clark is way smarter than his college jock looks may suggest, so his eyes jump to Dick when he hears Wally’s name.

“Wally West?”, he asks, his curiosity clearly piqued.

“Yeah”, Dick answers, in a feeble attempt at deflection.

“You two get along well?” Clark goes on, furthering Dick’s misery. “I’ve noticed you tagging each other in your Instagram storis every now and then.”

Of fucking course he has.

“Yeah, uhm, we do get along well”, Dick mumbles, feeling himself turn redder with every word. “I only really got to know him a bit better at Nationals this year, and he’s a really cool guy. Very supportive and down to earth.”

Dick sends out a quick prayer to all the gods in the universe that this was enough to get Clark off his trail.

“I’m so glad to hear”, the hunky man smiles. “It’s always a shame when athletic rivals develop this hostile relationship between themselves. You can compete for the same thing and still be respectful and civil to one another. Although some people at 4CC may suggest otherwise…”

Is Dick imagining things? Or did Clark Kent, the embodiment of All-American friendliness, just throw subliminal but unmistakable shade at Jackson Hyde?

Maybe Wally’s and Babs’ theories that the federation is on Dick’s side are more fact-based than the boy thought possible…

“Yeah, well, he’s definitely not like that”, Dick reassures Clark, slowly regaining control of his cheek colours.

“That’s good”. Clark turns his attention back to Dick. “The last thing you need right now is passive aggressiveness from your peers. This is your first 4CC, isn’t it?”

“It is. I didn’t go last year, and I kinda hadn’t planned to go this year, either, if you know what I mean.” Dick smiles a little bashfully.

“Of course. But don’t be too hard on yourself, Dick. We all have our off days, and yours unfortunately happened to coincide with the free skate at Nationals. I’m sure things will go very differently this time.”

Why does Clark’s smile have to be so white, and shiny, and just all-around perfect?

“I hope so”, Dick admits. “Although I bet you never had these kind of off days with Diana.”

“Ha, are you kidding me?!”, Clark laughs. “I’ve lost count of how many competitions we bombed over the years.”

“Really?”, Dick asks, genuinely surprised this time. “I find that pretty hard to imagine.”

“Oh, trust me. After Diana and I won our first Olympics, we had our worst season ever. We barely made the Grand Prix Final and didn’t even medal at Worlds that year. It was bad.”

Now that Clark says it, Dick very vaguely recalls deadlines about the Super Pair not being so super any more.

Sounds like trademark Vicki Vale nastiness…, Dick figures darkly.

“So, what did you do?”, he eventually asks.

“We worked a lot with our sport psychologist on what they call Upper Limit Problems”, Clark explains. “It’s a kind of self-sabotage that happens when you become really successful in life. For example, in sports, once you realize just how much potential you truly have, instead of thriving in that knowledge, you become scared of failure and start worrying that you will never reach that full potential ever again. Essentially, you become scared of yourself and what you now know you can do, so you push yourself back down again to a lower level that is less terrifying and more familiar to you.”

“Ah, I see”, Dick responds, remembering his sessions with Dinah over the summer and during the early fall. “My psychologist and I talked about imposter syndrome this season. Upper limit problems sound pretty similar to that.”

“They do, you’re right. Both concepts basically deal with the mental pressure of achieving extraordinary success in life. Imposter syndrome describes the experience of feeling like a fraud and the fear of being exposed as such by others, while with upper limit it is your own inner blockage that holds you back on the success scale.”

“How did you solve that problem?” Dick inquires.

Not in a million years would he have expected to have such a profound conversation about sport psychology and mental health with the very man responsible for Dick’s gay awakening, and yet here they are. And what’s even more surreal is that having a conversation with Clark genuinely feels good. Not the ‘I’m getting turned on’ kind of good, but the ‘I could get used to having you as my mentor’ kind of good.

“We tried to approach everything with a more positive perspective”, Clark tells him. “Take our Olympic gold medal, for example. One part of upper limit problems is that you actually feel guilty, rather than proud, of your successes because they lie outside of your comfort zone and exceed what you normally achieve. So, you automatically sabotage yourself and fall back onto a lower level of performance, and it all becomes this awful self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Dick hums in agreement, memories of his free skate at Nationals arising on the fringes of his mind. That skate was a self-fulfilling prophecy – or rather tragedy – if ever there was one.

The memories are quickly replaced by images of Valentin Streltsov at Europeans, and Dick has to briefly close his eyes to force them away…

“However”, Clark goes on, “after a while we started to learn that it is okay not to feel guilty about your success. If you achieve something that’s truly great, then you’ve earned it, and you’ve earned the right to feel proud of it, too. Then suddenly, that achievement will no longer seem like a fluke or something that’s too far outside of your comfort zone or that you can never achieve it again. No, suddenly you’ll think: I did this once, and I can do it again.”

Dick thinks about those words for a silent moment, before he says, “That sounds like a very healthy place to be in, mentally."

“It is”, Clark agrees smilingly. “And once we internalized that, we skated better and more consistently than ever before. Granted, it’s a long journey to get to that place, and it’s not always easy, either, but when you get there, you will feel the difference, I promise.”

“Thanks, Clark, I’ll take that to heart”, Dick promises, and he means it.

“I hope you do, Dick”, Clark replies, his affectionate smile suggesting that he means it too.

***

“Dear passengers, we have now begun our descent and will arrive at Incheon International Airport shortly. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your seats and your tray tables into an upright position.”

“Urgh”, Dick groans, as the voice of the stewardess returns him to the land of the living.

Even though it’s almost 6pm local time by the time the plane from Gotham is approaching Seoul, Dick spent most of the last few hours asleep like a stone, after dozing off during the most recent Marvel movie. He'd forgotten how numbingly dull superhero movies could be…

Letting out a deep yawn, he rubs his eyes, trying to get the remnants of sleep out of his body. Dick usually handles jet leg pretty well, even though he often only sleeps very lightly on planes.

This time, however, he not only slept very well, but also dreamed of being on the ice together with another man. The only thing he remembers now about the man is that he wore a black leather biker jacket and had slicked back shiny hair, the colour of which, was ginger, rather than black, though…

Looking out of the window, Dick can spot the fine lines of the Korean coast and, further beyond that, the outskirts of its massive capital.

“Wow, Seoul looks giant”, Dick mutters in awe.

“Oh yeah, close to 10 million citizens”, Clark Kent speaks up, startling Dick who had forgotten all about the man next to him. “So you better get ready”, Clark adds with a grin.

“Ready for what? Dick turns to meet Clark’s gaze inquisitively.

“For a reception like you’ve never seen before.” Clark grins.

“What do you mean?”, Dick asks naively.

“Dick, when was the last time you’ve been to Asia?”, Clark asks in return, visibly perplexed.

Dick has to think back for a moment, before he finally answers, “Uhm, probably Cup of China last season.”

“So you haven’t been to Asia since you won Worlds?” Clark’s perplexed expression turns into a knowing smirk.

“…No, Dick answers slowly. “Why?

“Because you’re a freaking superstar here, Dick”, the older man says with a grin.

An error message pops up in Dick’s brain, causing his very articulate response: “WHAT?!”

Clark leans in more closely, and Dick does absolutely not notice his enticing fragrance again. “You’ve always had a huge fandom over here. No wonders, you’re a good-looking teenage boy and an amazing skater, too.”

Somebody help me please.

Dick has no idea which of those statements just uprooted him more. The fact that Clark Kent just called him an amazing skater? Or the fact that Clark Kent just called him good-looking?

Maybe both?

Before Dick can make up his mind though, Clark goes on. “But when you landed that quad Axel in Stockholm, things just exploded. I’m sure you must have noticed a growth in followers.”

“Well, yeah, kinda, but I haven’t been here in person in over a year and I’m not as active on social media as some of the other skaters either, so…”, Dick mind drifts off, and swirls back to the memory of Clark calling him good-looking.

If there is one thing that Dick Grayson is not, it’s being conceited. In fact, he is the one of the humblest elite figure skaters you will ever find, but we all have our vanities, don’t we? And when one of the most handsome men on the planet calls you good-looking, who could possibly resist him?

“… So”, that handsome man now picks up Dick’s unfinished sentence,” you have no idea that Japan and Korea have basically adopted you as one of their own and that the Korean fans will probably cheer almost as much for you as they will for the actual skaters from Korea.”

“When you put it like that, no”, Dick smiles in embarrassment. Of course, he knows that figure skating is huge in Asia, easily one of the most popular sports there is. The top skaters are veritable superstars here, unlike the US where skating has undoubtedly fallen off in popularity since its heydays in the 90s. There are definitely still stars, and Dick is arguably at the top of the list giving his achievements and his tragic back story. But that isn’t even a fraction of the fame he’d enjoy as a skater in Japan or Korea.

“Haha, don’t worry about it”, Clark chuckles. “Korean fans are wonderful. So kind and welcoming, you will love it.”

Now Dick has to laugh himself. “As long as I don’t beat Connor Hawke.”

“Yeah, well, maybe save that bit for the Olympics”, Clark winks.

***

Clark did not exaggerate, as it turns out. When Dick steps into the arrival hall at the airport, he is met by hundreds by ecstatic and yet still polite fans who apparently wanted nothing more than to catch a rare glimpse of the Boy Wonder himself. The helping hands of Selina and Clarke came in very handy in the moment, because Dick never would have been able to carry all the flowers and gifts by himself to the hotel – at which they arrived a good hour later than scheduled. Still, the reception blew Dick’s mind; he’d never experienced anything comparable to that in the US, not even upon his return to Gotham after Worlds last year. It also inspired him to try and repay the Korean fans in kind by delivering the best performance he could at 4CC, and so he became even more laser-focused than he already was.

Two busy days, and several exhausting practice hours later, Dick finds himself in his hotel bed, waiting for Wally to pick up his FaceTime call. Tomorrow is the day of the short programme and even though Dick’s run-throughs went well, he knows he’ll sleep much better if he exchanges a few words with his boyfriend before bed time, no matter how briefly.

After a few seconds, the freckled grin of Wally West fills the screen of Dick’s phone.

“Good morning, Dickiebird!!!”

The light behind Wally’s back and the coffee mug in his hand remind Dick of the time difference between them. It’s almost 10.30 pm in Seoul, so it should be close to 1.30 pm in Keystone.

“Good evening, Wallster!”, Dick smiles in return.

When the two of them started to call each other nick names a couple of weeks ago, it felt unusual to Dick at first, triggering Wally that he may overstepped the line too quickly. But soon, the awkwardness predictably turned into a game of who could come up with the most creative / silly alter ego for the other. At the moment, Wally goes by the moniker of The Freckler on Dick’s phone while Wally changed Dick’s last name simply to Gayson on his.

“Sooo, how is Korea? How was the flight? Tell me all about it.”

Dick needs a moment before he begins. The sight of a grinning Wally West – his boyfriend – genuinely inquiring about his journey will never not knock the air out of his lungs, especially when he hasn’t had time to talk to him in almost three days.

“Korea is pretty awesome”, Dick replies, nestling himself against the headrest of his bed. “I had totally forgotten how obsessed they are with skating over there. Kind of surreal when you compare it to the US.”

“It’s true”, Wally says, taking a sip of coffee. “And it’s not nationalistic either, where they only get excited about their own skaters and hate everybody else. They genuinely love the sport.”

“Totally. Speaking of love, guess who sat next to me on the plane?” Dick raises a teasing eyebrow.

“No idea”, Wally shrugs. “Jackson Hyde?”

“NO, thank God!!”, Dick exclaims in equal amounts of shock and relief.

When Wally fails to offer an alternate answer, Dick goes on. “No, you won’t believe it. It was Clark Kent!”

“WHAT?!” Wally almost spits out his coffee. “You spent 16 hours, sitting right next to Clark freaking Kent?!

“Yup, sure did”, Dick grins, deliberately popping the ‘p’ of the first word.

“How was he?”, Wally asks, leaning in closer to his phone, all starry-eyed.

“Urgh, he’s so dreamy”, Dick sighs. “He had on this black leather jacket and my eyes all but fell out of their sockets when I saw him. Then he took it off and wore this slim grey sweater that basically accentuated all of his abs, and I was like: how is he even real? Lois Lane is one lucky woman.

“I’M. SO. JEALOUS”, Wally wails.

“But the most surreal thing was that he’s not only incredibly handsome but also very smart and insightful. We talked a lot about mental health and sport psychology. To be honest, I’d thought of him as this grown-up version of a dumb High School jock, but turns out there’s a really thoughtful and empathetic person underneath.”

“Underneath all those shredded muscles and to-die-for dimples, you mean?” Wally stares in disbelief.

“Come on, you know what I mean!”, Dick tries to defend himself. “Besides you must have met him way more often than me.”

“I have, but he was mostly with Diana those times and usually takes a back seat when she’s around.”

“Anyway, Clark’s amazing, and not just visually”, Dick adds with a wink. “And by the way, I think your theory that the federation is pissed about Jackson’s IG post is definitely on the money.”

“See?!”, Wally’s face lights up in righteous glee. “I told you they don’t like that kind of stuff. Everybody knows that most people in figure skating hate each other, but that’s what group chats are fore, not public Instagram profiles.”

Dick stays silent for a moment, ruminating on Wally’s words in his head, before he says in a softer tone, “We don’t hate each other, though.”

Or do we?, the insecure part of Dick wants to add.

As if sensing the vulnerability behind Dick’s question, Wally answers gently but unquestionably.

“I could never hate you, Dickiebird.”

Dick instinctively starts to blink rapidly to suppress the sting building behind his eyes, and exhales, “Man, I wish you were here right now.”

“Perhaps it’s better that I’m not”, Wally starts, but then seeing Dick’s confused expression, he quickly adds, “for your focus, I mean.”

“Maybe, maybe not”, Dick ponders aloud. “I’m just so … nervous about tomorrow.”

And I wish that you holding me would make those nerves disappear, he confesses silently.

Wally gazes at Dick thoughtfully for a second, before speaking. “I’m not going to say ‘don’t be nervous, Dickie’, because A) you’ll still be nervous anyway, and B) I think that nerves can be a good thing, too. It shows that you care about something and that you know something is important.”

“It also shows that I could fuck things up. Yet again”, Dick moans in a low voice. “Connor Hawke was perfect in practice, and Streltsov just broke my World record. It’s like everybody is kicking my ass right now, and I can barely stand on my own two feet."

“You won’t fuck things up, Dick”, Wally tries to reassure him. “You texted me yourself that the Axel is going well.”

“I know. But the field is insane here.” And Wally and Valentin aren’t even competing here…

“It is, but so are you”, Wally smiles. “When you’re on, you’re the most insane of them all, and we both know it.”

Dick stares at Wally's green eyes and the unshakable conviction shining in them.

“You think I can do it?”, he finally asks.

“No. I don’t think you can do it”, Wally answers assuredly. “I know that you will do it.”

There goes that sting behind Dick’s eyes again. What did he do to deserve a boyfriend like Wally West?

When Dick remains silent, said boyfriend picks up the conversational thread. “The other night, I dreamed that I was skating onto the ice for the final group of the free programme in Montreal. And you were standing right beside me, Dickie. In the Olympic final.”

Dick finds himself too overwhelmed by love and gratitude to say anything in return, hoping that the tender smile on his face and the sole tear running down his right cheek communicate to Wally what his tongue fails to express.

“Can you do me a favour and make that dream come true?”, Wally asks him warmly.

Clearing his throat, Dick forces himself to answer. “I will. With everything I have.” And he means it.

“Thank you. Love you, Dickiebird.”

“Love you too, Wallster.”

Chapter Text

The final notes of Moonlight Sonata travel through the vast arena in Seoul.

One

Dick glides backward on his left blade, his right knee gently grazing the ice and his arms reaching out in a straight line.

Two

His left knee touches the ice, bringing Dick’s backward glide to a halt, while his arms retract to cover his chest.

Three

Dick leans forward and stretches out his arms across the ice, as if prostrating himself onto the cold surface.

The next second an overwhelming wave of cheers erupts from the stands. With a heaving chest, Dick keeps his gaze focused on the ice for a brief moment, before raising himself upward and seeing that the audience in the sold-out arena has risen up to ovate his performance and shower the ice with stuffed elephants. A tentative smile blossoms on his face as he stands upright, takes his bows towards all four sides of the arena and waves at the euphoric spectators.

I’ve done it, Dick figures silently, relief flooding his exhausted body. He has delivered a strong free skate. Arguably his strongest this season yet.

Now I just have to wait and see whether that was enough…

While his picks a stuffed elephant dressed in the Korean flag from the ice and skates towards the board, his Mathlete mind automatically starts to rack up the numbers. Dick is sitting in fourth place after yesterday’s short programme that was neither disastrous nor triumphant. His performance was a far cry from his catastrophic free skate at Nationals, but he stepped out of his quad Lutz and skated with more restraint than usual in the upbeat, energetic number. It was clear to everyone watching, from Dick himself to the judges, that the nerves of having his Olympic spot on the line were getting to Dick.

Connor Hawke, meanwhile, delivered flawlessly and is rightfully in the lead with 103.47 points, a massive 13 points ahead of Dick. Barring any catastrophe, the 4CC victory should be his. Much more important to Dick than Connor, however, are his US team mates. While Jackson Hyde – who finished second in the free skate at Nationals, and third overall – unexpectedly imploded in the short programme, ending up as low as 7^th, 16-year-old Jaime Reyes, after his fourth-place finish at Nationals – took everyone, most of all Dick, by surprise and placed second with 98.02 points, almost 8 points ahead of Dick. In the age of quadruple jumps where you can earn well over 10 points for a single element, that’s no insurmountable gap. Still, Dick knew that unless he delivered a strong free skate, his Olympics hopes would be dead for good. Luckily for him, he did just that. It wasn’t perfect, but it sure was great. Now it’s up to the judges and his remaining competitors to decide whether it was great enough.

When Dick reaches the board, Selina engulfs him in a massive hug and cheers, “Well done, Dick, that was amazing!”

Ignoring the fact that the nearby cameramen can pick up the audio, he breathes into Selina’s hair, “You think it was enough?” Loosening her embrace of Dick, Selina takes a step back, clasps his shoulders, and looks him right in the eyes. “Whether or not it was enough, you can be proud of yourself, Dick. It’s no longer up to you, and you did your best, so cut yourself some slack, Boy Wonder.”

The sound of his nick name out of his coach’s mouth brings a small smile to Dick’s face. Selina is right. He did do all he could, and now it’s longer up to him. Once he’s put on his skate guards and his Team USA jacket, Selina hands him the Robin elephant that his family gave him as a good luck charm, and the two make their way to the Kiss in Cry. In his head, Dick keeps on reviewing the elements of his programme. The quad Axel was definitely underrotated; Dick knew so before his right blade even touched the ice. The number of points he’d lose from that will depend on just how much he underrotated the jump. Still he landed it on one feet and so arguably managed his closest attempt to a cleanly executed jump since Worlds last year.

The rest of the programme went without any major mistakes, although Dick tripled three more of his six planned quad jumps, sensing that he was not entirely in his body and did not want to risk a fall or pop. The strategy worked out. Now though, the question will be just many points he left on the table because of that? Points that might cost him his Olympic ticket in the end?

The replay in the Kiss and Cry highlights the elements that Dick knows he can do much better, like the Axel for example. But to his surprise, it also reveals the rigour and passion with which he skated his programme today, especially in his step sequences. If his short programme showcased a skater who almost crumbled under mental pressure, his free skate demonstrated a competitor who did not let the pressure get the better of him. During a particular slow-motioned close-up on his expressive face, Selina grasps Dick’s knee and cheers him up, “See that passion?” Dick hears her say. “That’s you, Dick! That’s all you!”

The smile on Dick’s face grows slightly larger as the replay continues. Maybe he really did enough?

Finally, Dick is pulled out of his daydream when the voice of the announcer comes sounding through the speakers.

“The scores, please.”

Dick holds his breath, as doe Selina next to him, judging by how tightly he holds his hand, and the hushed crowd in the stands.

An agonizingly infinite pause.

Then the voice returns.

“Richard Grayson from the United States of America has earned in the free skate 210.46 points and a total competition score of 300.81 points. He is currently in first place.”

“Yes!!”, Selina cries out excitedly in tandem with the audience in the arena, while Dick himself gasps in stunned silence. 300 points is a huge number, the best that Dick has received all season – and one that Jaime Reyes has never managed in his entire career, the competitive archive that is Dick’s brain is quick to remind him. Still, Jaime delivered a personal best in the short. Who’s to say he won’t do so again in the free?

Regardless of that, Dick waves at the jubilant spectators again, and unlike yesterday, the smile on his face is sincere.

When defending Olympic champion Jiro Osamu, who’s only in third place after the short programme, takes to the ice, Dick and Selina leave the Kiss and Cry booth and move backstage to the leaders’ lounge, where the current top 3 skaters sit and watch the remaining performances, their reactions caught by several eager cameramen. It’s an excruciating, lose-lose situation that Dick hates with every fibre of his being. On the one hand, you do not want your competitors to perform better than yourself. On the other hand, you do not want to come across as jealous, ungrateful, or a bitter loser either. One wrong expression on camera, and your image can be destroyed for the rest of your career, especially in the age of social media.

Jean-Paul Valley, a tall broad-shouldered guy with brown hair from Canada, and Tanaka Rei, a slim, dark-haired figure from Japan, are already sitting in the lounge, cracking some jokes as if they did not just compete at an incredibly intense, high-pressure competition. Granted, given their experience at 23 and 25 years of age respectively, both of them surely know that with three skaters left to go, chances are slim that either of them will end up on the podium. For skaters aiming to win Olympic medals that must surely be a disappointment so close before the main event. Nevertheless, the two of them are all smiles when Dick enters the lounge and they congratulate him on his free skate.

By the time that Dick has saddled into the middle chair that is reserved for the leader, Jiro Osamu is already taking his bows. The facial expression of the defending Olympic champion clearly shows his dissatisfaction with his own performance. That sentiment is mirrored a couple of minutes later when his scores are announced and he ends up in second place overall.

Behind Dick.

Oh my God, Dick suddenly thinks in excitement. He’s in first place, with only two skaters left to go. You don’t need to be a Mathelete to solve that equation.

I’ve just medalled! At Four Continents!

The disaster at Nationals had so inscribed itself into Dick’s bones that he could no longer even remember the feeling of being at a competition that actually goes well.

But that burst of euphoria is short-lived as the penultimate skater is announced.

“Our next skater represents the United States of America. JAIME REYES!”

A tanned young man with dark curls curls in a bright blue costume skates onto the ice.

Panic building inside of him, Dick turns to Jean-Paul Valley next to him and mumbles, “Hey, uhm, could you, maybe, I dunno, tap me on the shoulder or something when Jaime’s done?” The silent explanation that Dick cannot bear to watch Jaime’s skate rings deafeningly in the air. It’s no disrespect to Jaime, but Dick knows he’s not strong enough to face it right now. Facing the fact that his Olympic fate is about to be decided this very instance.

The tall Canadian looks at Dick in kind and understanding eyes and replies, “Of course, Dick.”

Dick nods thankfully, and then puts on his earbuds, pulls out his phone and closes his eyes.

The next second, the soothing melancholy of Armand Amar’s ‘Inanna’ fills his head, and the 17-year-old boy is transported somewhere else, far away from the leaders’ lounge. Far away from worrying about the Olympics.

Endless blue oceans…

Golden rays of sunshine breaking through stormy clouds, revealing sapphire skies beyond them…

Solitariness – yet without loneliness…

Infinity…

The instrumental piece never fails to calm Dick down. Dick found it a few years ago when he was looking for skating music and fell in love with it immediately. A tranquil dialogue between piano, cello, and violins. It’s emotional and sad, surely, but not the kind of sadness that will wreck you internally, but sadness that will liberate you. Free you. In a cathartic way. As if he were a bird spreading his wings across the sea with no land in sight. Like the ancient sky goddess after which the track is named. Below him, only water. Above him, only the sky. The wind between his feathers.

It’s not a piece that builds into a massive climax, so it doesn’t lend itself to competitive figure skating as well as other pieces like Moonlight Sonata with its tempestuous agitato section. Still, Dick hopes that he can one day create his own interpretation of it on the ice, maybe in an exhibition programme. Because even though he will never know for sure, he likes to imagine that his mom would have enjoyed this piece too. Like she did Moonlight Sonata. And that thought alone makes the piece worth skating to in Dick’s eyes.

‘Inanna’ is just coming to an end when Dick feels a tap on his right shoulder. Opening his eyes to meet Jean-Paul Valley’s gaze, the Canadian nudges his head towards the screen in front of them that currently shows Jaime Reyes and his coach in the Kiss and Cry. Their expressions are unreadable. Did Jaime nail it? Did he implode?

Did he do enough to beat Dick?

Is he going to the Olympics?

Or me?

The voice of the announcer brings the trademark hush over the packed arena, and Dick once more closes his eyes.

“The scores, please”.

Dick’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he feels like it’s about to burst out of his body and skyrocket through the roof of the arena.

Whatever happens, Dick says to himself, I have nothing to blame myself for. Dick did everything that he could. If that’s not enough to get him to Montreal, then it is simply not meant to be. No matter how hard that realization might be to digest and accept.

Remember, everybody is proud of you. Your family. Your coaches. Your boyfriend. They are all proud of you either way. So be proud of yourself too.

…He just hopes that from wherever they are watching him, Dick’s parents are proud of him too.

“Jaime Reyes from the Unites States of America has earned in the free skate 199.31 points and a total competition score of 297.33 points. He is currently in second place.”

Amidst applause and cheers from the audience, Dick rips open his eyes because he cannot believe the words he is hearing. But the ranking displayed on the screen in front of him gives him the same information that were just spoken aloud.

Jaime Reyes. Second.

Richard Grayson. First.

Oh.

My.

God.

I’ve made it.

I’ve beaten him.

I’m going to the Olympics.

Dick’s hands rush to his lips which immediately begin to tremble. The vision of his eyes grows blurry within seconds. Congratulatory hands clap him on the back.

And then, Dick can no longer hold it in, collapsing forward in his chair while an almighty sob overcomes him.

The tears flow and flow and flow, washing all of the self-doubt, all of the self-hatred that has accumulated in the remotest corners of Dick’s soul over the past season – and especially after Nationals – out of his body. The one thing that he had almost given up belief in, his chance of ever going to the Olympics, has come true after all. Just when he thought he’d let everyone down once again after the underwhelming short programme, he turned things around.

And now another dream is about to come true, as well. The biggest dream of his life. Dick will be able to honour his parents by skating at the Olympics. No matter the scores, no matter the medals: this achievement alone will be the greatest triumph of Dick Grayson’s short life.

Dick loses any sense of time, sitting there crouched in his chair and sobbing his eyes out, so he is caught by complete surprise when he looks up again and finds none other than Jaime Reyes towering above him, his face cold and hard.

Gasping, Dick stumbles to his feet, unsure if he should extend a hand to Jaime or if that hand will be automatically smacked away by his competitor.

His competitor whom he just defeated and took away his spot on the Olympic team.

“Jaime, I – “, Dick starts, but does not know how to proceed.

The unfinished sentence hangs in the air between them, Jaime’s piercing eyes making the tense silence even more unbearable. But then miraculously, Jaime raises his hand towards Dick and the angles of his mouth turn the tiniest of degrees upward.

“Congratulations, Dick, you deserve it.”

Despite his young age of only 17 years, Dick has spent enough time both in the figure skating world and in the high society world of Gotham City to know a fake smile from a sincere one. Jaime’s definitely belongs in the latter category, which gives Dick the courage to reciprocate the gesture and clasp Jaime strong hand in return.

“Thank you, Jaime. I – I don’t really know what to say. I just – I wish there could be four of us. In Montreal. ‘Cause you’re an amazing skater.” And Dick means it. From what he’s seen of Jaime this season and on the practice rink here in Seoul, Jaime really is a great skater in his own right – at just 16 years of age too – and would absolutely deserve a spot on the Olympic team. The cruel irony of the universe, at least from Jaime's point of view, does not escape Dick: that the US can only send three men to the Olympics and that unlike US Nationals this time it is Dick who came out on top, not Jaime. Sure, there’s always next time, and Jaime, just like Dick, is easily young enough to continue at least for another Olympic cycle. But Dick is sure that right now Jaime’s disappointment must be huge – so the fact that he is not taking it out on Dick speaks volumes of his personality.

“Yeah, well, just like they say, the winner takes it all, and your free was amazing”, Jaime shrugs. Then he loosens his hold of Dick’s hand and grasps his shoulder instead. “But do me a favour, will ya?”

“Of course!”

“Go out there in Montreal and kill it, mi amigo, okay?” His minuscule smile turns into a broader grin. “One of us has to, and if I’m not there, you have to do it for me. You think you can do that for me, Boy Wonder?”

“Absolutely”, Dick smiles in return, and then, remembering the nickname of the Mexican-born skater from El Paso, adds with a wink, “Blue Beetle”.

At the sound of that name, Jaime breaks into laughter, Dick joining him seconds later, and whatever tension may have stood between them moments before is gone for good.

Dick already did Wally a favour by qualifying for the Olympics, so he might as well add Jaime’s to that list if it means coming one step closer to the Olympic podium. The podium he’ll hopefully share with the love of his life.

Chapter Text

“Connor Hawke from Korea has earned in the free skate 197.83 points and a total competition score of 301.30 points. He is in first place and the new Four Continents Champion. This concludes the men’s free skate.”

In the end, hometown favourite Connor Hawke as expected clinches the overall victory, much to the appreciation of the ecstatic Korean audience, but only by the skin of his teeth, or rather the skin of less than one point. The score of his free skate narrowly misses those of both Dick and Jaime, which means that Dick’s Moonlight Sonata remains the best free skate of the night and earns him an overall silver medal.

After the end of the free skate event, Dick has barely stepped out of the leaders’ lounge when his body is crushed by a fierce set of arms and his head is clouded by sweetly scented brown hair, through which he can vaguely make out intense sobbing noises. After a few seconds, those sobbing noises form themselves into words, spoken by the familiar voice of Selina Kyle.

“You did it, Dickie! You fucking did it!!!”

When she pulls back, Dick sees that her eyes are deeply red. Regaining her self-awareness, she quickly wipes away the tears on her cheeks and chokes, “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy for you because I know how much means this means to you. Nobody deserves it more than you, Dick.”

“Thank you, Selina”, Dick smiles, fighting valiantly to not be infected by Selina’s tears again. “I guess I’ll need at least the flight back to understand what just happened. That, and a few phone calls home”.

“Well before you do that, there’s a couple of points in the agenda that you have to go through first”, she winks at him.

“What do you mean?”, Dick asks in confusion.

The answer to Dick’s question comes less than a minute later in form of an official of the International Skating Union, reminding him that his presence is required on the ice to participate in the medal’s ceremony.

Oh right, Dick suddenly remembers then. I actually won a medal!

The last time Dick stood on any podium was at his second Grand Prix assignment more than four months ago. Since then, he only has ever watched from a distance as other people ascend the podium, so he’s almost forgotten what the experience is like.

The arena is already dimmed in atmospheric blue light by the time Dick reaches the board. A red carpet has been rolled out so that skaters can simply walk out towards the podium in the centre of the rink. Connor and Jaime are already waiting for him, chitchatting and joking about something. Luckily, any bitterness about not making the Olympic team seems to have evaporated from Jaime’s body, judging from the way he laughs at what Connor is saying. When the latter spots Dick approaching them, he calls out, “Hey! If it isn’t the Boy Wonder!” and walks over to Dick, promptly giving him a hug. “Congrats, Dick!”, he grins when he pulls back. Up close, Dick notices that the tanned boy with the wavy blond hair, although a year younger than Dick, already reaches a few inches above him – not to mention that he also strikes quite the handsome figure.

Trying to deflect the compliment, Dick says, “Thanks, but I guess it’s me who should be congratulating you, Mr Four Continents Champion.”

“By a hair’s length”, Connor shrugs. “You really made it close there at the end. But hey, you’re going to Montreal, that’s the real victory! Which makes us Olympic buddies!”

Dick wishes Connor wouldn’t speak as loudly about the Games lest the topic triggers Jaime standing by, but those fears turn out to be unjustified when the latter clasps Dick’s shoulder and smirks, “And which means that I’ll be very offended if I don’t get a post card out of Montreal, signed by ‘Olympic medallist Dick Grayson’.”

“Ha, I’ll try my best”, Dick laughs, still relieved beyond belief that the earlier tension between Jaime and him seems to have dissipated.

Before they continue the conversation, a deafening fanfare announces the beginning of the medals ceremony.

One after another, Jaime, Dick, and Connor are called out towards the podium where they receive flowers and their medals from the president of the Korean Figure Skating Federation amidst euphoric receptions from the audience.

“Second place and Four Continents Silver Medallist. From the United States of America, RICHARD GRAYSON!!!”

Hearing those words and the cheers from the crowd, butterflies take off in Dick’s stomach as he embraces Jaime and steps onto the platform reserved for the silver medallist, but unlike Nationals, these are not butterflies of dread and anxiety, but butterflies of elation. For the first time in what seems like ages, Dick set himself a goal which he actually ended up achieving, and that accomplishment alone feels just as rewarding and fulfilling as a victory.

Granted, the competition went far from perfectly. His short programme was a mess, the quad Axel still was not clean yet, and his overall score still lagged an unreal 35 points behind Valentin Streltsov’s score at Europeans. If Dick hopes to have any chance at an Olympic medal, let alone the gold, he has to seriously up his game before leaving for Montreal in two weeks.

And yet all that notwithstanding, today Dick knows he achieved something that he should and does feel immensely proud of, and so the hug that he gives Connor Hawke when it’s finally his turn to climb the podium is sincere and heartfelt. When the entire arena rises to their feet for the Korean national anthem and the thousands of spectators sing along with one overwhelming collective voice, a shiver runs down Dick’s spine. It’s the first time he fully recognizes how massive the arena is and how appreciative the spectators seem to be of the competition they just witnessed.

A competition that I was a part of, Dick thinks proudly.

A competition that I excelled yet.

In a sport I may just have fallen with all over again.

Much like the boy who is hopefully watching him right now at home.

After the obligatory photo calls and victory lap around the arena, the three skaters are ushered by officials into the press room for the traditional post-event press conference. Naturally, Connor receives the most attention from the assembled reporters, whose questions along with Connor’s answers are translated live into in-ear pieces for Dick and Jaime.

Connor talks a lot about the home crowd and how great it feels to have achieved this major success on home ice. He’s also asked whether he considers himself a favourite for Montreal after beating several of his major competitors, including the reigning World Champion – an addition that does sting Dick ever so slightly.

Connor pauses a second before answering, clearly and acutely aware of how important it is in a judged sport like figure skating to strike just the right balance between coming across as confident and humble at the same time.

“I do think that I’m in the best shape that I’ve ever been. Whether that means I’m a favourite for the Olympics is for someone else to decide. If I’m healthy and I deliver two clean skates, I think I have a good shot, but so do many others, too. Today showed, I think, how close the field at the top is. Today I was the lucky one who came out on top overall, but it’s Dick who won the free programme, and completely deserved, I may add.” At that Connor throws an open smile over his shoulder at Dick, who reciprocates the gesture appreciatively “So you never know what’s going to happen next month. The only thing is that I’ll fight with everything I have.”

When the moderator moves on to Dick, one reporter wants to know how relieved he feels to finally have secured his place on the Olympic team.

“Obviously, I’m incredibly relieved. I was very down on myself after Nationals, not just because of the free skate that I delivered, but also because I know that I can do so much better than that. That mental pressure definitely showed in my short programme here. I was very aware that this was my last chance to go to Montreal, perhaps a bit too aware. So I’m incredibly glad and thankful that things finally came together tonight in the free. There’s still a lot to work do for Montreal and not much time left to do so, but I think this result is exactly the confidence boost that I needed.”

Another reporter asks about his hopes and expectations for the Olympics.

“Honestly, right now I don’t really expect anything. The only thing that I hope is that I will skate my two programmes to the absolute best of my abilities. Both of my programmes this season are very personal and mean a lot to me, especially the free, so I want to give them the performance they deserve. Where that will me put me in terms of the competition depends on so many things that are beyond my control, so I think it’s best to only focus on me for now and let whatever else happens simply happen.”

The moderator is almost about to proceed to Jaime Reyes when another man in the back row raises his hand and asks in a noticeable Russian accent, “Mr Grayson, what’s your response to Valentin Streltsov’s comments at Europeans?”

A tense hush falls over the room, as everybody’s eyes, including Connor’s and Jaime’s, rush to Dick, who keeps his face perfectly composed despite the massive stone that just crushed through his stomach.

Waiting a moment to collect his thoughts, Dick then gives his carefully but pointedly worded answer.

“Valentin Streltsov is an amazing skater. I only wish that he had the character and personality to match that skating. Especially when you express homophobic sentiments, but then skate a short programme to Tchaikovsky, who of course was gay himself. Perhaps Valentin missed that part of his musical history lessons.”

A mumbled “oooh, sick burn” rings over from Dick’s left side, and Dick would wager that it came from Jaime.

Having to bite his tongue to stop his mouth from turning into a smirk, Dick adds “Beyond that, my skates in Montreal will be all the response you need.”

Several reporters gasp while others give out whistles that moment, and even Connor gives Dick’s shoulder a soft punch as if to say, “Damn Boy Wonder, gauntlet THROWN”.

Yeah, that’s right, let them clutch their pearls, Dick muses in quiet defiance. I already turned the skating world upside down once before. Think at your own peril that I can’t do it again.

Especially if that is what it takes to send that hateful bigot packing back to Mother Russia…

Lastly, it’s Jaime turn, and unsurprisingly, his questions focus on the fact that he did not make it onto the Olympic team after all.

Dick pricks up his ears, eager to hear what Jaime has to say and hoping that he wasn’t mistaken in their new-found competitive cordiality.

“I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel slightly bittersweet. On the one hand, I achieved the greatest success of my international career so far. On the other hand, I failed to achieve an even greater success. Still, the rules are the rules, and Dick was amazing today and fully deserves that Olympic spot. It might hurt to stay at home for now, but as we learned in the US with Wally West, sometimes missing out on the Olympics can really lift you onto a higher level and make you come back stronger than before. So”, Jaime leans forward so that his eyes meet Dick’s, “see you in Sapporo in four years, Boy Wonder.”

All-around laughter fills the press room, and Dick nods at Jaime in silent gratitude, thankful that their rivalry ended on pacifist terms.

After the press conference is over, Dick heads towards the locker rooms, in desperate need for a moment to be by himself. On his way, he checks his phone and is flabbergasted by the overwhelming number of alerts on his phone, from text messages to missed calls to social media notifications. He hasn’t received that  that many messages since – well, since he won Worlds last year.

Is that a good omen?, he jokes silently.

The most recent message is a text from Barbara. It’s less than 5 minutes old, and reading it makes Dick guffaw; he can practically hear the trademark sarcastic smirk of his best friend saying those words to him in person.

‘as the chief librarian of skating twitter, I salute you for that streltsov read. I might need new glasses, the shade was that deep’

When Dick reaches the door to his locker room, he peaks his head inside to find it empty. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he sees nobody headed his way, either.

Great, he thinks, I’m alone.

Closing the door behind him, Dick sits down on the bench, dials Wally’s number, and raises the phone to his ear. The Wi-Fi isn't great in the arena, so a good old regular phone call will have to suffice for now.

It takes his boyfriend all of one ring to answer.

It takes him about just as long to annihilate Dick’s eardrum.

“OH MY GOD DICK I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU I COULD CRY ACTUALLY I AM CRYING YOU NAILED IT YOU CRUSHED IT YOU KILLED YOU’RE GOING TO THE OLYMPICS AND YOU’RE GONNA CRUSH IT ALL OVER AGAIN AND YOU’RE GONNA SKATE THAT SCUMBAG FROM RUSSIA BENEATH THE DIRT WHERE HE BELONGS; I MEAN BENEATH THE ICE IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN; WHATEVER; ANYWAY; AND OH MY GOD WE’RE GONNA BE THERE TOGETHER AND IT’S GONNA BE SO INCREDIBLE AND WHO KNOWS MAYBE WE’RE GONNA BE THE FIRST SINGLE SKATERS TO TIE FOR GOLD THEN WE COULD KISS ON THE TOP OF THE PODIUM AND – “

“Walls, relax, breath”, Dick laughs into the empty room.

Isn’t Wally supposed to be the more mature one out of us two?, he ponders in silent amusement. It’s almost like the 20-year-old is even more ecstatic than Dick himself. Perhaps the physical exhaustion from the competition is shining through after all.

Agitated breathing sounds through the speaker, before Wally’s voice continues in a halfway more human voice than before.

“Sorry, Dickie, I just got a bit overexcited.”

“Ha, a bit?”, Dick laughs.

“Okay, a lot”, Wally mumbles defensively. “But trust me, this was nothing. You should have seen me during your free skate. Or Jaime’s for that matter. Barry will have blackmailing material on me for the rest of my life.”

“Thanks, now I know whom to bribe”, Dick grins.

“Don’t you dare, Boy Wonder.” Dick can practically see Wally narrow his eyes through the speakers.

“Try and stop me, Flash”, Dick taunts, his grin broadening.

“Be careful what you wish for”, Wally warns him, his voice low and playful.

Dick laughs again, then after a pause, he goes on more honestly. “Actually, you wanna know what I do wish for right about now?”

“For me to be there with you so we can celebrate together and not via phone?”, comes Wally’s immediate reply.

“Damn, you already know me too well, Walls”, Dick chuckles, his heart warming at the reciprocal chuckling sounds at the other end of the line.

“But seriously, I miss you Walls”, Dick confesses in a soft and vulnerable tone. “I miss you holding me, and I can’t believe I’ll have to wait till Montreal for you to hold me again.”

“I miss you too”, Wally answers tenderly, “but it’s not that long, Dickie. And after the Games, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

“Good”, Dick smiles. “Cause I’ll need all the time in the world to tell you just how much I love you.”

A laugh comes through the speaker, then Dick hears Wally say, “Only you, Dick Grayson, could pull off a line as cheesy as that.”

“That’s why you love me, Wally West”, Dick answers, hoping that the smug tone of his voice conveys to Wally the grin adorning his face right now.

“Alas, for some inexplicable reason, I do”, Wally sighs. “I do love you, Dick Grayson. Now, go out there and celebrate. You deserve it. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I will”, Dick says softly, his heart melting. “Bye, Wally.”

“Bye, Dick.”

Dick has just ended the call when the sound of another voice, much deeper than Wally’s, makes Dick jump out of his skin.

“You know, for a robin, you sound an awful lot like a love bird.”

His head shooting upward, Dick sees Clark Kent standing in the very much open doorway, arms crossed over a white Henley and his black leather jacket, a bemused grin on his face.

“Don’t you know how to knock?!”, Dick cries out, not caring that this is the co-chair of the freaking US Figure Skating Federation he is yelling at.

“Don’t you know how to properly close a door so that private conversations don’t drift out onto the corridor outside?”, Clark shoots back with a raised eye brow that makes Dick want to bury himself in the ground.

When the initial shock gives way to more low-key embarrassment, Dick sighs and attempts a smile. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”

“More like the bird, but yes”, Clark replies, pushing himself off the door frame and taking a seat next to Dick on the bench.

“Will you tell anyone?”, Dick asks, his tone more vulnerable than he would like.

“Of course not”, Clark answers promptly, his smile unequivocal. “Love’s a private matter. It’s up to nobody else but you to reveal who you are dating, Dick. But for your own interests and Wally’s it might be best if you keep this a secret until you turn 18, Dick. I have no doubt that you two keep things completely legal. Still, this is a judged sport, with a lot of officials from pretty conservative countries. A gay relationship would ruffle some feathers anyway. A gay relationship between an adult and a minor might go too far for some.”

“Of course, Wally and I will be careful, don’t worry”, Dick exhales deeply. “Thanks, Clark”

“You are very welcome. Also I do hope that your feelings for Wally will not affect you competitively, now that you’re going to Montreal – my sincere congratulations on that, by the way. Not that I ever doubted it for a single second.”

“Thank you”, Dick chuckles. “And no, I already got that out of my system at Nationals.”

“Was that the reason for your free skate there?”, Clark asks knowingly.

“Oh yeah. I thought Wally would never feel for me as I do for him. Turns out… I was wrong.” Dick feels himself begin to grin like an idiot at the sound of the last three words.

“I’m very happy for you. For both of you.” With a slightly more serious expression, Clark adds, “Although Nationals kind of tie in with my reason to talk to you, Dick.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Now that you’re officially on the Olympic team, I wanted to talk to you about the team event.”

“Oh”, Dick starts.

Of course. Why didn’t he think of this?

The team event – the combined event which only takes place every four years before the individual events at the Olympics. Athletes from all four disciples are selected to compete collectively as a country, which means that you have a chance at winning an extra medal in addition to the individual event. Many skaters won their Olympic medals that way. In fact, this is how Selina became Olympic champion – by skating for the USA in the team event eight years ago, before retiring and starting her career as a coach in Gotham.

“As I’m sure you know”, Clark begins, sounding very official now, “we can select six entries to compete across the four disciplines, which means that we can switch entries between short and free programme in two of them.”

Dick does know. You don’t need to be a Mathelete to figure it out. Four disciplines. Eight programmes. But only six entries.

Just as he knows that National Champions traditionally get first picks.

“Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan have already told us that they want to do both portions of the ice dance team event, as do Kory Anders and Roy Harper for pairs. Harleen Quinzel and Donna Troy will do the women’s segments. Which leaves the men. I take it that you’ve already talked about this. With your boyfriend?” Clark adds a playful little wink to his last question.

Dick bites the smile verging on his lips before answering, “Yeah, we have, but only briefly. We tried avoiding the Olympics as a topic, to not jinx 4CC. But Wally did tell me that he only wants to do the short programme in the team event. So as to not tire himself out before the individual event.”

“Probably a wise choice”, Clark comments. “This leaves Victor Stone and yourself for the free programme. And I hope you won’t be upset by this, Dick. But Diana and I have asked Victor to do it, and he has agreed. We felt like the past few weeks have been so difficult for you that we did not want to add any more pressure onto you which might distract you from the individual event. We’re aware that this means you won’t be getting the extra team medal. But please believe us that we only want what’s best for you, Dick, and we’re convinced that sitting out the team event might be the best way to get you into peak shape for the individual event, physically as well as mentally.”

Dick holds Clark’s gaze for a moment, but then moves his eyes to the hands in his lap, sensing a wetness build up behind them. When what sounds like a sob escapes Dick’s lips, Clark swiftly reaches for Dick’s hands and squeezes them apologetically.

“Dick, I’m so sorry, I did not want to hurt you, I – ”

“No, I’m not hurt.” He looks up, and despite the teary gleam in his eyes, Dick’s genuinely smiling, a weight the size of Wayne tower having been lifted from his heart. “I’m relieved, actually.”

Clark is knocked speechless, which Dick takes as on opportunity to explain himself.

“It’s only now, here in Seoul, that I fully realize how emotionally draining all this has been. Just trying to get onto the team, I mean. And next, in Montreal, I’ll have to do it all over again. Skating is tough, and I sometimes forget that I’m still just a 17-year-old boy, and not some machine. Truth be told, skipping the team event has actually been my preference all along. I just hope that …” Dick’s voice drifts off for a moment, before he continues in a softer voice. “…I hope that people won’t think of me as weak, when they see the line-up and notice that I’m not there.”

Clark looks like he wants to scoop Dick up in his big protective arms. Instead, he just strengthens his hold of Dick’s hand and stares as deeply as he can into the boy’s insecure eyes.

“Dick”, he speaks slowly, “the things that you’ve achieved, that you’ve overcome in life, at your age, are more than most people have to deal with in an entire life time. Nobody in their right mind could ever possibly think of you as weak. And if they do, they are stupid and not worth your time.”

Clark really does not make it easy for Dick to hold back his tears.

Sniffling, Dick answers in a quivering voice, “Thank you. And thank you for that chat about upper limit problems. It really did help me a lot today.”

“Any time, Dick, any time”, Clark says, padding Dick fondly on the shoulder. “But you wanna know one thing?”

“Sure!”

Clark leans in closer, a conspiratorial smile on his cheeks. “I think you haven’t even come close to finding out how far your upper limits truly reach, Boy Wonder. And when you do, I have a feeling it will be a glorious thing to behold.” With a wink, he adds, “Perhaps even a golden thing.”

Chapter Text

“SURPRISE!”

A wall of loud and excited voices hits Dick’s face when Alfred leads him into the dining room at Wayne Manor. Dick’s mouth falls open at the sight in front of him.

His whole family has come together, including Barbara – even Bruce is there, although he had told Dick that he would not be back from his business trip to Europe until tomorrow night. What’s more, the entire dining room is decorated in sparkling garlands and paper streams in all kinds of colours. Six balloons hang over the table in the centre, five of them in the shapes of the Olympic rings, the last one a ball in the same blue colour as the rhine stones on Dick’s free skate costume. Golden handwriting on the sapphire-coloured balloon reads, ‘Welcome Home, Olympian Dick Grayson!’ On the table itself, Dick notices several bowls of what looks a suspicious lot like Alfred’s special Bolognese – Dick’s favourite comfort food.

Taking everything in, Dick needs a few seconds to get his speech organs back into operation. “Guys, what is this?!”, is Dick’s very high-minded first utterance.

“Well, what does it look like, Boy Genius?”, Jason taunts affectionately.

“It’s a surprise Welcome Home party for you, Dickie!”, Tim cheers excitedly.

“Think he might have figured that one out from us shouting ‘surprise’ at him, Timbers”, Jason smirks, elbowing his little brother in the hips.

Completely overwhelmed, Dick’s eyes turn to Bruce and he mutters in an increasingly shaky voice, “I thought you were still in Europe until tomorrow.”

“As if I could miss the surprise party for my oldest son making the Olympic team”, his father answers warmly and wraps his arms around Dick, who immediately returns the hug.

One by one, Dick is then greeted and embraced by every member of his family, the most excited one naturally being little Damian, who squeals giddily when his beloved DiDi plants a kiss on the toddler’s forehead.

Finally, it’s Barbara’s turn, and Dick squats down to hug her, holding his best friend just a little tighter than the others. Only a few years ago, Dick envisioned competing at the Olympics with Babs by his side, and while she will likely still be – knowing Babs, there’s no way she will NOT be cheering Dick on in person – it’s still bittersweet to Dick that her place will be next to the ice, rather than on the ice. Pulling back, Barbara seems to notice the watery shine in Dick’s blue eyes, so she punches him lightly in the shoulder and grins, “See, I told you, Boy Wonder, that you’d make it. How many times will you have to learn never to doubt the Oracle?”

Standing upright again, Dick laughs, “Haha, well if this is the way I have to learn that, I’ll gladly take it.”

Letting his gaze wonder across the decoration again, Dick’s eyes fall on the blue balloon with the gold handwriting again. “Although you picked the wrong colour of pen. I’m only a silver medallist, ya know.”

Dick does not need to look at Babs to see her exasperated eye roll in reaction to Dick’s comment. Feeling a hand on his back, Dick glances over his shoulder into Alfred’s fond smile. “Consider it as motivation, Master Richard. To achieve a result in Montreal, befitting of the golden handwriting.”

“I’ll try, I promise”, Dick says, genuinely meaning the words he just said. Then, turning back to the rest of his family, he demands, “but not before I find out who had the idea for all this.”

“Well, me, duh”, Barbara points at herself with another eye roll, as if obviously nobody but her could have had such a genius idea. Nudging her head towards the door way behind Dick, she adds, “Oh, and him.”

Confused, Dick turns around – and is met with the freckled, ginger-haired sight of Wally West, standing in the door frame with the widest grin that any face in the history of mankind must have ever worn.

“Congratulations, Dickie”, Wally greets him.

Forgetting everything and everyone around him, Dick rushes forward into Wally’s body, trapping the taller boy’s torso in his arms and burying his face in Wally’s neck to muffle the sobbing noises that overcome the 17-year-old that very second. Dick has no idea how long he stands there, wrapped around Wally, until at one point he feels his boyfriend’s arms encircling Dick’s smaller body, too, and cupping the back of his raven head tenderly.

After what to Dick could have been five seconds or five years, Dick takes a slight step backward to meet Wally’s eyes. “What – why – how?”

“Barbara DM’d me about the idea after the short programme. Obviously, I was on board, and luckily Barry was too. Then we just had to wait for you to go out there and nail the free, which you naturally did. My flights were booked before you even had your medal around your neck.”

Dick stares at Wally in disbelief, wondering if there ever was a greater boyfriend on Earth than his?

“So when I called you from the locker room in the arena – ”, Dick starts, but Wally finishes for him. “I was already packing. Hope you can forgive my little deception about not seeing you till the Games.”

“Gladly”, Dick smiles, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Wally as if they are the only people in the world.

The clearing of a throat that sounds noticeably like Bruce’s unfortunately reminds Dick of the fact that they are most certainly not the only people in the world, let alone in that dining room.

Reluctantly pulling apart, Dick faces Bruce’s intent gaze as his dad pronounces, “Alfred made your favourite, Dick, and I’d hate for it to grow cold, so why don’t we have dinner first? I bet teenage hormones are easier to bear on a full stomach.”

A sniggering from Wally and a blush from Dick later, the family gathers around the table, Dick for once sitting at the end, with Wally on his right side and Bruce on his left. Most of the dinner time is spent by Dick giving his family a detailed account of his trip to Korea, from his in-depth chats with Clark Kent (minus the sexual awkwardness on Dick’s part), to the amazing reception by the Korean fans, and even Jaime Reyes’s surprising kindness at the end of the competition.

Eventually, the focus of the conversation unsurprisingly shifts towards the family’s guest of honour, though. Dick has to bite his tongue, watching Wally’s freckled face pale ever so slightly when Bruce asks him, “So, Wally, Dick already told me a bit about how the two of you got together, but I’d like to hear your version of the story too, if you don’t mind.”

Looking over at Dick, who gives him an encouraging nod, Wally clears his throat and begins. “Well, as Dick probably told you already, we got together after the free skate at Nationals this year. But looking back, I started having feelings for him around two years ago, after Dick won his second Junior Worlds title. I’m not sure if I’d called those feelings romantic back then. I mean, Dick was only 15 then, right? But over time my feelings became more … specific, and after Worlds last year, there was no denying anymore. So, when Dick confessed how he felt about me at Nationals, one thing led to another.”

Dick can feel his cheeks go redder and redder as Wally speaks on, and cannot help but grin like an idiot when the ginger briefly smiles at him.

“In terms of one thing leading to another”, Bruce picks up from Wally, “I should let you know that in this house, the family and their well-being are of the utmost value and importance. Should any member of this family ever be mistreated, it would lead to unfortunate consequences.” With an arched eye brow, he adds, “Especially for the person responsible for the mistreatment.”

Dick watches the interaction between his father and his boyfriend with increasing difficulty to suppress the laughter that’s about to burst from his mouth. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t go soft on Wally right away. But to Wally’s credit, Wally’s eyes do not show away from Bruce’s piercing glare – which, Dick knows, is more than some of the highest-ranking CEOs in the world can say of themselves.

Without flinching away, Wally responds, “Mr Wayne, I can promise you that I will never mistreat your son, in whatever way possible. Dick means the world to me, and I know that he does to you, as well. I respect that. Dick and I may be competing for the same thing on the ice, but we love each other. On and off the ice. And that matters more to me than any medal ever could.”

No longer able to stop himself, Dick reaches for Wally’s hand and squeezes it affectionately, and Wally, seeing Dick’s hand on his, raises it to his lips and gives it a quick kiss.

Observing the exchange of gestures, Bruce’s unreadable expression finally softens, and he offers, “In that case, please call me Bruce.”

Taken aback for a moment, Wally then returns the billionaire’s smile and replies, “Thank you, Bruce.”

“Speaking of the ice”, Talia then gently chimes in, as if to ease the tension around the table a little, “how is your training for Montreal going, Wally?”

“It’s going pretty great”, Wally answers nonchalantly. “All my run-throughs were clean this week, which is probably why Barry let me go to Gotham at all, to be honest. But I’m happy. I feel as prepared as I can possibly be, so, let’s go, Montreal”, he cheers, earning smiles from Talia and from Dick, too.

When did I start being so relaxed about competing against Wally?, Dick marvels silently at how calm he feels, listening to Wally talk about how great his training has been going.

But then Dick answers that question for himself.

Probably when he first kissed me in that locker room in Metropolis.

A question from Alfred pulls Dick back into the here and now.

“Master Wallace, if you don’t mind me asking – what is your opinion about that abhorrent creature from Russia? I was quite shocked when I heard his comments last week.”

A dark grin takes over Wally’s face, and Dick listens up attentively. They have deliberately not spoken about this topic since Europeans, in order to not distract Dick from 4CC, so he’s just as eager to hear what his boyfriend has to say on the matter.

“Valentin Streltsov, you mean? Well, I can’t say that I’m shocked. If you know the people he’s working with over there, it’s no surprise to hear those things come out of his mouth.”

“It was more surprising that he could even put two sentences in English together”, Bruce throws in cynically, earning chuckles from the rest of the table.

“He actually lived in the States for several years as a kid”, Wally explains, “so that explains it. But yeah, his statements didn’t surprise me. His skating did, however. I didn’t think he’d ever reach that level again. If he skates like that in Montreal, he’ll definitely be a contender. But…” At that point, Wally looks at Dick with a smile and squeezes his hand. “We won’t be giving up without a fight, will we?”

“Hell no”, Dick answers with a smile of his own.

After the main course, conversations continue on during desert, and Dick finds himself sitting back in his chair and just revelling silently at the ease with which Wally seems be getting along with the rest of his family.

That is, until Dick notices Jason scowling at Wally for several minutes with an increasingly dark expression. Wally, meanwhile, seems completely unaware of the invisible daggers that are being thrown his way, so when Barbara finishes telling them some recent gossip from Gotham Ice Academy Dick finally decides to call his oldest little brother out.

“Jay, is something wrong”?

“What?!” Clearly taken off guard by Dick’s question, Jason blushes and mumbles in a low voice, “N-No, uhm, everything’s f-fine”.

“The way you’ve been looking at Wally for the past five minutes didn’t seem fine to me”, Dick responds, trying not to sound admonishing. A silent hush falls over the table, which is eventually broken by Dick addressing Jason in a kinder voice. “Little Wing, you know you can be open and honest with us. No need to hide anything.”

By now, Jason’s face has assumed the red colour of Dick’s short programme costume, and after a heavy pause, he finally speaks, though more to the table than to the people around it.

“Sorry, I’m happy for you, Dickie, I really am. It’s just … I’m afraid, now that you have a boyfriend, I’ll no longer have a big brother. And I don’t wanna lose my big brother. I spent too many years without one. I don’t want … Wally to…  take you away, Dickie.”

Dick’s emotions go on a rollercoaster ride, listening to the words that his brother mumbles under his breath. He knows that Jason has been suffering from abandonment issues all his life, never having met his father and having had to live on the street after he lost his mother as a little boy. Dick just never thought that him having a boyfriend would trigger these issues too.

That Jason is so bound to me that the fear of losing me would hit him that much…

But before Dick has a chance to respond, it’s Wally, of all people, who speaks up.

“Jason, can I ask you something?”

Jason merely nods his silent approval.

“Jason, I get a sense that you love your big brother very much.”

“YES”, comes Jason’s immediate response, its firmness taking Dick by shock.

“And from what Dick has told me, he loves you too. Very much”, Wally goes on. “Now, you probably don’t know a whole lot about me, but what I can tell you is that I know very well how important it is to have people in your family who you love and who love you back. Unconditionally. Especially when you’ve made the opposite experience too. Which I have a feeling is something that we two have in common. So, I hope you believe me when I say that I would never ever get between you and your brother. Yes, I love Dick, and I hope that we will be together for a very long time. But one of the reasons that I love him is the bond he has towards his family. Towards you, Jason. Nothing I do will ever go against that bond, okay?”

The drop of a pin would have sounded like an earth quake in the silence of the dining room. With a sob, Jason slowly raises his head and looks at Wally with large, shiny eyes. “Promise?”, the boy whispers hoarsely.

“Promise”, Wally repeats with a smile.

Then Dick can no longer hold it back, jumps out his chair and hurries towards Jason who’s seated between Bruce and Talia. Whirling Jason’s chair around, the boy gives out a surprised yelp when he’s buried in his older brother’s arms and chest.

“I promise that you will never lose me, okay, Little Wing?”, Dick whispers, running one of his hands through Jason’s hair. The sobbing noises and the nodding head movements are all the answer he needs.

“I will never leave you, Jay. Otherwise you’ll have permission to chase me to the other end of the planet with your hockey stick. You think I’d want that?”

A small laugh coming from Jason’s head shakes up Dick’s chest.

“Also”, Dick goes on, “who else would I have to beat at Mario Kart? I need you to keep my racing spirits up, and I know I can always count on you to come second behind me.”

Freeing his head from Dick’s sweater, Jason gazes up at his brother, his eyes still shiny, but a hopeful smile now playing along his lips.

“You wish, Dickhead. You know damn well I’m the master of the Rainbow Road.”

“Oh really?”, Dick grins. “Maybe we should put that to the test tomorrow. Once I’ve had some sleep. You in, Little Wing?

“I’m so in”, Jason grins. “Better get some rest, though, sleeping beauty. ‘Cause my red shells will be waiting for you.”

***

After the unexpectedly high-flung emotions at the dining table, Dick is more than happy and relieved when Babs and his family finally allow him to withdraw to his bed room and nestle together with Wally under a cosy blanket, the redhead spooning the slightly smaller raven head in front of him and wrapping his arms protectively around him. Although the computer in front of him is playing a YouTube mix of various skating performances, Dick’s mind is still with his little brother.

“Do you think that Jason will be fine?”, Dick asks, insecurity in his voice.

“You know him better than I do, Dick”, Wally answers, tightening his hold of Dick, “but he seemed pretty fine to me at the end. It’s probably just a matter of time and getting used to the fact that you have a boyfriend. Once he sees that I won’t snatch you away to Keystone, things will calm down.”

“I hope you’re right. Thank you for that speech, by the way. It really meant a lot. And not just to me.”

“Anytime”, Wally says, kissing the back of Dick’s head.

The video on the screen comes to an end, jumping automatically to the next one, and suddenly the ginger hair of a slightly younger Wally West skates onto the virtual ice.

“Oh God, no!”, Wally moans full of embarrassment.

The first beats of ‘We’re all in this together’ from the first High School Musical film sound through the speakers, and Dick’s eyes about fall out of their sockets.

“Oh my God, did you seriously skate to High School Musical, Walls?”

“Yesss”, Wally groans, burying his head in Dick’s neck, “I was a junior and thought I was being the Troy Bolton of figure skating. Please make it stop.”

Far too busy laughing, Dick doesn’t waste a single second thinking about stopping the video. Instead, he sniggers, “What do I have to pay you to make you use this as your gala programme at the Olympics? The world deserves to see grown-up Wally in a Varsity jacket again!”

“Not even your Dad has enough money in the bank to make me do that programme again, Boy Wonder”, Wally now laughs himself.

When the two and a half minutes of Wally’s short programme come to a close – much to Dick’s regret and Wally’s relief – the next video in the queue starts playing, and the all-too familiar vision of petty-coated Diana Prince and leather-clad Clark Kent with his slicked-back hair of their Grease programme fill the screen. Now it’s Dick turn to groan.

“Is this the infamous Grease programme?”, Wally asks, taking audible delight in the evident discomfort of his boyfriend.

“Yeah”, Dick mumbles under his breath.

“So, what we are watching right now is the gay awakening of one Richard Grayson?”, Wally presses on, pouring more oil into the flame of Dick’s embarrassment.

“YES”, Dick answers emphatically, “yes, it is, do you need me to show you the time stamp of my gay card or what?”

“No need, Dickie”, Wally grins, “the video is enough for me. ‘Cause turns out that baby gay Dick Grayson had freakin’ taste. Clark was fine, even in his early days.”

“And you know what – Dick Grayson still has taste”, Dick smirks, twisting his body and landing a quick peck on Wally’s cheeks.

The grins vanish from their faces when the next video comes on: Valentin Streltsov’s free skate at the European Championships, which went viral after the competition – in part because of his homophobic comments in the Kiss and Cry.

Reluctantly unable to look away or skip the video, Both Dick and Wally stay silent for most of the programme, until Valentin pumps his fist in the air after his last perfectly completed jumping pass and Dick sighs, “How the hell are we ever gonna beat this guy, Wally? He hasn’t missed a single jump since coming back, and you know that his scores in Montreal will be even more inflated than what he got here.”

Wally tightens his arms around Dick and says, “Don’t worry about him, okay? Yes, Valentin’s strong, but so are we, okay?”

“But not strong enough!”, Dick shoots back. “He’s the strongest technical skater of the field, and he’s got Russian politics on his side, so his PCS will be up there too. Even if we skate our absolute best, we will not come close to this guy.”

A pause, as Valentin takes his bows on the screen.

Then Wally speaks on. “Well, people kind of said the same thing about me before last year’s Worlds. And you wanna know what happened then?” Dick feels Wally put rest chin on Dick’s shoulder and can practically hear the older boy’s smile in his voice.

“This really cute guy with raven hair from Gotham City came along, skated to Romeo and Juliet, landed a freaking quad Axel and everybody lost their mind. All the presumptions about figure skating got thrown out the window, proving that you never know what will happen until the night of the competition. That goes for Worlds. And it also goes for the Olympics.”

As if on cue, the video mix then jumps to the next clip, and Dick’s own raven hair appears on the screen, skating onto centre ice at Globen Arena in Stockholm.

It’s my free skate from Worlds last year!

Dick’s breathing hitches. In spite of all the attention that his performance gained, Dick realizes just now that he’s never actually re-watched his free skate since then. Feeling his heart in his chest, Dick is transfixed to the screen as the score to Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet film starts and 16-year-old Dick begins his routine. The gentle music is quickly overpowered, however, by the explosive noise from the audience when Dick lands his historic quad Axel as his opening element and the thousands of spectators lose their collective sh*it. Still, Dick, appears completely unfazed by it, skating in his own little world on the ice as the famous lyrics from the love theme arise in the arena.

What is a youth?

Impetuous fire

What is a maid?

Ice and desire

The world wags on

A rose will bloom

It then will fade

So does a youth

So does the fairest maid

Dick barely notices Wally’s hands gripping Dick even more fiercely while the performance on the screen continues and Dick lands one jump after the next.

Comes a time when one sweet smile

Has its season for awhile

Then love's in love with me

Some may think only to marry

Others will tease and tarry

Mine is the very best parry

Cupid, he rules us all

Caper the caper sing me the song

Death will come soon to hush us along

Sweeter than honey and bitter as gall

Love is a past time that never will pall

Sweeter than honey and bitter as gall

Cupid, he rules us all

By now, the sounds of sobbing fill Dick’s ear, and for once it is not his own sobbing.

The music coming from the speakers transitions into a rousing instrumental climax during which 16-year-old Dick performs his intricate step sequence. Finally, then, it switches back to the calm love theme of the soundtrack, reprising its moving opening lines as Dick goes into his spins and the programme comes to a close.

A rose will bloom

It then will fade

So does a youth

So does the fairest maid.

The speakers almost crack under the intensity of the cheers and applause that erupt in Globen Arena, taken the exhausted Dick on the ice by visible surprise.

“You really were the perfect Romeo, Dickie. If you skate like that”, Wally’s quivering voice utters, “then nobody can beat you. Nobody.”

“The judges at Europeans would disagree”, Dick mumbles, still not knowing how to feel after watching his performance.

Making Dick yelp, Wally grabs his shoulders and turns Dick around until they are face to face, the intensity in Wally’s green eyes startling Dick.

“Fuck the judges. Fuck Europeans. Fuck Valentin Streltsov.”

Dick gapes. That’s more curse words he’s heard from Wally than in the entire time they’ve been dating. If Alfred had heard them, the Manor swear jar would have had a field day.

“I don’t care what anybody says, Dick. You are in the most gifted skater in the world. And your Moonlight Sonata is the most beautiful programme I’ve ever seen. And no scores and no World records will ever change that. Okay?!”

“Okay, Dick mumbles, a soft smile emerging on his face. Then he adds, “I love you Wally.”

“Love you too, Dick”, Wally answers, his intense stare melting into a smile of his own, as he wraps his arms around Dick again and they lie down.

Hugged by both Wally and the warm blanket of his bed, Dick’s body is reminded just how tired and exhausted it is from the past few days – and just how calming it is to sense Wally’s heart beating in sync with his.

Feeling deeply contented, Dick barely perceives Wally fondly whispering, ‘Rest your wings, Bird Boy’, and closes his eyes…

***

Light’s shining in through the curtains by the time Dick opens his eyes again. With a grumble he raises his head, and finds Wally already awake, looking at him with doting eyes himself.

“What time is it?”, Dick mumbles dozily, squinting at Wally.

“Past 10, already”, the ginger smiles sadly, “Which means I need to get ready. My flight back to Keystone is at 1.40.”

Dick’s chest tightens.

“Do you have to leave already?”, he asks, already anticipating Wally answer.

“I’m afraid yes, Dickie. But I promise we’ll have all the time in the world when the season is over.”

That reference to the end of the season makes Dick remember something important.

“About that…”, Dick begins hesitantly, but then continues. “Clark Kent accidentally overheard our phone call after 4CC, so he knows about us.”

Dick searches Wally’s face for a response, unsure how his boyfriend will react to this information. They had decided to keep their relationship a secret, and of course Dick had fucked it up.

Will Wally be mad?

But instead of an outbreak of rage, Wally simply says, “Oh. What did he say?”

Releasing a sigh of relief, Dick explains, “He’s completely fine with it, and he’s not going to tell anyone either. But he also said that we should wait with going public until I’m 18. You know, with me still being a minor and everything.”

“Of course”, Wally agrees. “Barry said so, too. In which case it’s probably best if I go back to the airport by myself. Can’t risk somebody snatching a photo of us holding hands together.”

“Yeah”, Dick says thoughtfully. “Although Alfred could still drive you there.”

He looks up hopefully into Wally’s face, who merely smiles back at him and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll just take an Uber. What would people say if they saw me being driven to Gotham Airport by the butler and de factor grandfather of my number 1 rival?”

“You’re right. Better safe than sorry”, Dick sights, letting his head rest on Wally’s chest again as frustration seeps into his mind. “Although this still sucks. I’ll be 18 in two months. What difference does that even make?”

The frustration lessens significantly when he feels Wally’s fingers tenderly running through Dick’s hair. Then he hears the older boy say, “The difference that by then, one of us will be Olympic champion and you will have come of age, which means that we’ll be allowed to do whatever we want, and nobody can stop us.”

“Ha, try saying that to my dad”, Dick laughs, thinking back to his conversation with Bruce on the ride back from Nationals.

“He just wants to protect you and me from any negative comments and conjecture, Dickie”, Wally comes to Bruce’s defence. “You know how people can be.”

“Yeah, I know”, Dick admits sadly. But then his voice turns more playful. “Although did you see that people are already shipping us online?”

“Oh yeah”, Wally laughs. “Barbara texted me this one fanfic, Call me by your Axel. I haven’t read it yet, by the title did make me chuckle.”

“For the record”, Dick speaks up defiantly at the mention of that title, “I’ve read the actual Call me by your name, and Elio’s 17 and Oliver’s 24, and nobody gives a damn, so three years between us is totally fine!”

Which is true. The whole age thing has been simmering in the back of Dick’s mind ever since that comment from Bruce after Nationals, and after his conversation with Clark it has resurfaced again. Dick loves Wally, Wally loves Dick, end of conversation. Why can’t people see that? Neither of them feels any inclination right now to turn things sexual anyway, so why can’t they just simply be together and enjoy their togetherness?

Why are we being pushed into the closet all over again, just because I’m not 18 yet?

The line from the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack echoes through Dick’s head at that moment.

What is a youth?

Right now, Dick wants to answer, a youth is somebody whose feelings are simply not being taken seriously by their elders…

Wally, meanwhile, continues laughing and caressing Dick’s head.

“You don’t have to convince me, Dickie. I guess people think that whenever there’s an age difference between people who are dating, that the younger person will somehow be exploited and abused because they have no agency.”

The mere implication makes Dick snap. Raising his head so that his eyes meet Wally’s, he defiantly protests, “No agency?! I have Alfred freaking Pennyworth to back me up! That man can make the Avengers wither and cry with as little as a raised eyebrow. And don’t even get me started on my brothers.”

“Tell me about it”, Wally grimaces. “I thought I was gonna melt into the floor when I arrived here this morning.”

“You’re too hot not to melt anyway, Wally West”, Dick grins, leaning forward and kissing Wally’s lips.

When they reluctantly pull apart, Dick sits up, the warm blanket falling from his chest, and he grabs Wally’s hands.

“So, I guess this means that this really is goodbye until Montreal, huh?”, Dick asks, his voice now more vulnerable and softer, but also full of understanding.

“At least in person, yes”, Wally answers. But then he squeezes Dick’s hands and continues. “But it’s just two weeks. And you can always call and text me, Dickie, if anything comes up, okay?”

Dick searches Wally’s emerald eyes and finds nothing but love and sincerity in them.

“Thanks, Wally”, Dick replies, his tone gentle, but his face smiling.

“Anytime”, Wally reciprocates Dick’s smile. With a wink, he adds, “Just send me a signal, Boy Wonder, and I’ll be with you in a Flash.”

Chapter Text

Cheers and applause erupt from the stands and along the boards at the elite rink of the Gotham Ice Park.

His chest heaving, Dick takes a bow and waves at the clutter of spectators, but not even his breathlessness can dim the elated grin embellishing his face. He just finished a flawless free skate. 6 quads. All perfectly landed and fully rotated. Even the quad Axel.

The people at the rink clearly know it, and Dick knows it too.

If I skate like that, I can beat anyone. Even Valentin Streltsov.

Today is the day of the Olympic Send-Off at the Fries Academy, which means that all skaters who qualified for the Olympics get to perform both of their programmes one last time before their friends and family. It’s a kind of informal dress-rehearsal, one day before the entire delegation from Gotham boards the plane to Montreal.

Dick’s free skate was last, and it finished off a truly mind-blowing morning during which one clean programme followed the next. Not a single element was missed, neither by Dick nor by the two pairs, Kory and Roy as well as Conner and Megan. Even Jade Nguyen and Thomas Black, who compete for Canada in ice dance, delivered two flawless routines that should definitely put them in medal contention at their home Olympics.

Moonlight Sonata, however, indisputably earned the loudest cheers from everybody, not just because Dick’s entire family had come to see him skate, but because everybody seemed acutely aware what a rollercoaster of a season it’s been for him so far, and how much is on the line for him in Montreal. So, to deliver this kind of performance, just two weeks before the main event – Dick could not be happier, and neither can the people who just watched him, apparently.

Dick has just finished taking his bows when Roy already skates up him, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Damn Rob, what the fuck just happened?!”, he gasps. “Did you seriously just land 6 freaking clean quads?!”

“Yep, I sure did”, Dick grins at him, not even trying to hide his happiness for once. “And you better get used to it, ‘cause I’ll do it again in Montreal.”

Slowly, Roy’s shocked face transforms into an impressed smirk. “When did nervous little Dickie Grayson all of a sudden get so quietly confident?”

“I dunno”, Dick shrugs, still smiling. “I guess Robin has finally learned how to fly.”

Leaning in closer, Roy whispers into Dick’s ear, “And did a certain redhead from Keystone maybe help him with that?”

When he pulls back, the broad grin on Roy’s face betrays no hint of malice whatsoever, so Dick merely winks back and says, “Maybe.”

After Wally’s surprise visit, Dick decided to come clean and let Mr Fries, Selina, and Dinah know about his relationship with Wally. Their utter lack of surprise, though, told him that maybe Clark Kent may not have been as secretive as promised after all – “OR”, as Barbara theorized afterwards, “that they simply have eyes like the rest of us, Boy Romeo”. So even though Dick hasn’t officially told Roy about his boyfriend yet, he’s not surprised in the least that the pair skater is all in the know already. Much more importantly, Roy does not seem to hold any grudges against Dick for not telling him first. If anything, Roy’s smirk suggests that Wally has passed the Harper Test to be approved as Dick Grayson’s boyfriend.

Before Dick and Roy can go into any details, though, the other skaters – Kory, Megan, Conner, Jade, and Thomas – along with their coaches – Selina as well as pairs coach Alan Scott and ice dance expert Helena Bertinelli – catch up with them and congratulate Dick on his free skate. Finally, more slowly, Mr Fries joins the ring and skates to a standstill between Dick and Roy.

“Okay, skaters, listen up”, the grey-haired man announces, “I wanted to say a few words to you before you all head home and pack your suit cases.”

An expectant hush falls over the group.

“First of all, I would like to stress how immensely proud of you I am. Of all of you. The performances you delivered this morning were genuinely incredible. If you skate like this in Montreal, I promise you will all have the moments of your lives, and as a coach, nothing could make me happier.”

Dick catches Selina’s eyes at that moment, and she nods at him with a broad smile, as if to signal her agreement with the head coach of the rink.

“Now, I know that some of you have skated on Olympic ice before”, Mr Fries continues, looking at Kory and Roy who narrowly missed the podium four years ago, “and some of you haven’t”. He lets his gaze wonder to the other skaters, including Dick, who will all be making their Olympic debuts in Montreal. “Many coaches would probably tell you that you should approach the Olympics like you do any other competition.”

Mr Fries pauses for a moment, then he emphasizes, “I say that’s nonsense.”

Dick notices the statement taking a few faces in the circle slightly aback, especially Conner and Megan, who are the youngest of the group at just 16 years old.

“Yes”, Mr Fries speaks on, “the daily routines and the schedules that you will go through are generally the same as with any other competition. But the atmosphere is not. There’s a different energy in the air. From the moment you step off that airplane to the first time you put your skates on. The Olympics are special. And I want you to enjoy it. Don’t get petrified because it’s the Olympics. Get excited. These Games only happen once every four years. And there are so many athletes out there, not just in figure skating, who never get a chance to go all their lives. You, on the other hand, will go, and you all have earned the right to go, so enjoy that. Enjoy every second you spend out there on that ice. Don’t think of it as a competition that you have to win. Think of it as a reward. A reward for years of hard work that now comes to fruition.”

By now all the skaters, even Kory and Roy are bearing almost miraculous smiles on their faces, listening to the old coach’s words in awe and rapt admiration.

“Of course, I’m not foolish enough to pretend that you don’t want to win.”

A wave of chuckles eases the elevated atmosphere, but Mr Fries goes in the same tone as before.

“But what I seriously hope is that aside from winning, you will go there because you love skating. Because there’s nothing that you love more than going onto the ice and letting the music take you away. When you find that love for yourself, all the rest will come to you. Skate like no one’s watching, and then the world will never be able to stop watching you.”

Letting the music take you away…

If Dick did not know how to approach the Olympics before, now he does.

***

Before going to the Manor and packing up his suitcases for the flight to Montreal, Dick has one more stop to do at the Ice Park.

“Come in!”, Dinah Lance’s voice calls when Dick knocks on the door to her office, which is just a few doors away from Victor Fries’.

Dinah is seated at her desk near the window, but on the couch in the middle of the room, a book in her lap, looking completely at ease. Lots of colourful flowerpots give the room a relaxing, almost garden-like vibe.

“Hello Dick! Have a seat”, she greets him, gesturing towards the chair opposite her.

Dick closes the door and sits down wordlessly, then she begins.

“First of all, congratulations on those send-off skates. I really racked my brain, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you better, and I do include last year’s Worlds in that assessment.”

Dick can feel himself blush as he answers. It always takes him off guard when the soft-spoken sports psychologist is so open and forthcoming with her praises.

“Thank you, Dinah. I really did feel great on the ice. Which is not something I would have expected a few weeks ago.”

“This is actually the reason why I wanted to talk to you before you leave, since, as I’m sure you know, I won’t be coming with you to Montreal.”

Dick nods. The number of coaches that each school can bring is limited, and whatever extra spaces there are usually go to medical and technical experts. Which makes sense to him, because most of the mental groundwork for the Olympics is done before you actually go.

Or at least it should be.

If you’re not ready mentally by the opening ceremony, Mr Fries once told him, then you won’t be ready come competition time either.

“Do you remember what advise I gave you before Nationals?”, Dinah asks him.

Dick has to think for a moment, his mind having blocked out from memory most of that weekend prior to his encounter with Wally in the locker room. Finally, he answers, “That I should try and separate my romantic feelings for Wally from my competitive ones.”

“And how did that work out for you at Nationals?”, Dinah continues to ask, a knowing smile on her face.

Dick chuckles. “Well, not at all, as we all clearly saw.”

“And yet”, Dinah continues,” now that you and Wally are in a relationship, your skating has become more confident and more consistent than ever before. Which seems paradoxical, considering that your romantic and your competitive feelings for Wally are now more closely entangled than they ever were. Have you thought about why that is, Dick?

Truth be told, he had not, which is why it does seem paradoxical, just like Dinah says.

When I wasn’t dating Wally, I was afraid that my feelings for him would impede my skating. And now that I am dating him, it turns out my feelings for him do not impede my skating at all. If anything, they make it better.

How can that be?

“Hmm, not really”, Dick answers truthfully after a pause. “I don’t know, I guess it’s just that I’ve gotten to know Wally so much better since then and I’m less afraid of him rejecting me. Does that make sense?”

Dinah’s smile broadens.

“More than that – it hits the nail on the head.”

“Oh”, Dick starts, taken aback by Dinah’s comment.

When he cannot say anything, his psychologist takes up the thread.

“The feelings that you had for Wally before Nationals were not directed towards a real person, but rather towards the idea that you had of that person. A projection of Wally West, not the real Wally West. You were so afraid of Wally rejecting you because you didn’t know the real Wally yet, and that the real Wally never ever would reject you. All you had was this artificially constructed image of him that was so defined by your low self-esteem, Dick. But now you have gotten to know the real Wally West, and the insecurity that you once felt has given way to a calm confidence in the bond that you two share. Just as the image of that person has been replaced by the person itself.”

Dick lets Dinah’s wise words sink in, ruminating on them for a quiet moment, before he finally confesses, “That makes … so much sense.”

“You know you can trust in the real Wally West”, she goes on. “And because of that, you know you can trust in your skating again, too.”

Dick’s ponderous expression turns into a soft smile.

“To be honest, I’ve never thought about it that way, but when you put it like that, yes, that’s absolutely true. I’ve felt so unstable all season… But then Wally came along, and now it’s like this turbulent sea inside of me has calmed down. Has become peaceful again.”

“Perfect conditions for smooth sailing then?”, Dinah quips with one of her rare smirks.

“Ha, where to?”, Dick quips back with a laugh. “The Olympic podium?”

“That’s for you to decide, Dick, and only you”, she answers, more serious again. “But what I can say is that I’ve never been surer that you will find your way. On the ice, and off.”

***

Dick is just carefully placing his favourite oversized comfort sweater in his suitcase when he hears a knock on his door. “It’s open!”, he calls out without looking up. When he does, though, the person he sees is not whom he expected.

“Oh, hey Bruce!”, Dick says in surprise at the sight of his father standing in the door way with two steaming cups in his hands.

“I know that I’m not usually your go-to person when it comes to having tea”, Bruce admits with an unusually bashful smile, “but I thought that today of all days, you might be willing to make an exception for me.”

“Of course!”, Dick replies and promptly makes space on his bed for the two of them to sit down.

When they are comfortably seated, Bruce hands Dick one of the cups.

“Thank you, this is delicious”, Dick says after his first sip of the hot beverage.

“It really is”, Bruce – a notoriously stubborn coffee person – agrees. “I should try this more often.”

“Al will be very happy indeed”, Dick predicts in his best British accent, making them both laugh heartily.

When they’ve calmed down, Bruce begins, “Dick, I … Even though we all will be there in Montreal to cheer you on and will see you again before you skate, I just … I wanted to tell you how proud of you I am, Chum.”

Dick suddenly feels a lump in his throat. Bruce so rarely sits down with him to have a serious emotional conversation that when he does, it always catches Dick off guard.

Taking another sip as if to calm and steady himself before placing the cup on Dick’s bedside table, Bruce goes on.

“When I first took you in, I was so worried that you would struggle with the loss of your parents just like I had. Feeling lost for years on end without any hope that things would ever get better again. I feared that the light I had seen in your eyes up on that trapeze at Haly’s Circus had gone out for good.”

Between them, the room is so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Dick can’t recall his dad ever talking openly and unsolicited about the death of his parents. Barely daring to breath, Dick fondles the warm tea cup to ground himself in the here and now and brace himself for whatever Bruce is going to say next.

“But then I took you to your first skating lesson with Victor Fries and you stepped on the ice, and I saw it again. That light in your eyes. It was back. That was one of the happiest moments of my entire life. And now here you are, nine years later, packing your bags to compete at the Olympics, with a boyfriend who loves you right by your side. I cannot express how happy I am for you, Dick.”

By now, Dick’s hands are trembling so hard that he has to put down his cup on his bedside table next to Bruce’s lest he should drown his duvet in tea. As soon as his hands are free, though, he throws them around Bruce’s neck and sobs into his shoulder.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“You’re very welcome, Chum”, Bruce answers fondly, rubbing Dick’s back with one hand and holding the back of his head with the other. “You have something really special, Dick, you know that? A gift. I don’t know exactly what it is, I’m not a performer after all, but I know it’s there. And it’s more than just how many times you can rotate your body in the air. You love what you do, and the people who watch you can see that. Can feel that.”

More sobbing noises fill the otherwise silent room, until Dick pulls back and meets Bruce’s kind gaze.

“I just …”, Dick sniffles, “I just hope that my parents can see it too. Wherever they are.”

“I’m sure they can, Chum”, Bruce reassures him, grabbing his hands and squeezing them encouragingly. “They will be with you on the ice. We all will be.”

Gently, Bruce pulls Dick into another hug, before they both let their backs rest against the wall of Dick’s bed room, as suddenly exhausted by the unexpected flow of emotions.

“And as for that matter”, Bruce starts again, “we will be in the arena, too. For both of your skates. The whole family. Even Damian.”

“Really?”, Dick asks excitedly, looking up his father with wide eyes. Bruce told him a while ago that they’d all travel to Montreal if he makes it to the Olympic. Still, to hear it come out his dad’s mouth, like it’s the most natural obvious thing in the world, warms Dick’s heart beyond words.

“Of course. Tim started working on signs before you had even boarded your flight back from Korea.”

“Haha, why am I not surprised?”, Dick laughs at that, already visualizing Tim at his desk, surrounded by card board and lots of coloured pencils and giving bossy instructions to Jason.

“Because you know that your brothers love you”, Bruce says affectionately. “As do I.”

“Love you too, Dad”, Dick replies, letting his head rest on Bruce’s strong shoulder for a moment and closing his eyes. When he opens them again a moment later, the first thing he sees is the still steaming tea cups on his bedside table.

“I guess we should better finish that tea before it gets cold, though”, Dick says, “don’t you think?”

“Good point”, Bruce chuckles. “If Alfred finds out we let tea go to waste in his household, we will never hear the end of it.”

Chapter Text

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Montreal. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing in Montreal, be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened. Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining service items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants. Thank you.”

The sky outside the window is shining a bright, almost piercing blue as the plane from Gotham City gradually descends towards Montréal–Trudeau International Airport. The perfect weather outside aptly reflects the emotional state of the raven-haired teenage boy who’s currently gaping through the window next to his seat like a kid on Christmas Eve.

I’m here, Dick thinks giddily. At the Olympics. It’s all happening.

And what’s even better: it’s all happening together with his boyfriend, whose flight was supposed to land in Montreal two hours before the Gotham delegation, so if things went according to schedule, Wally should already be at the Olympic Village right now.

Unlike the almost-16-hour odyssey to Korea, the flight from Gotham to Montreal was less than two hours. Too little time to really take a nap. Not that Dick, or any of his peers for that matter, would have been able to fall asleep anyway. What Mr Fries said after the send-off skates was true. There is something inherently unique about the Olympics that simply cannot be put into words. Dick feels it in his very bones. From the moment that the alarm on his phone went off this morning, to seeing all the athletes at Gotham Airport – not just the figure skaters, but all the other disciplines too – in matching outfits and suit cases: the Olympics are special, different from any other competition that Dick has ever travelled to. And Dick’s feet haven’t even touched Québécois ground yet, let alone the ice.

In fact, Dick was so excited upon boarding the plane that he didn’t even mind when the Powers that Be decided to place him right next to Harleen Quinzel, who turned out to be a much more pleasant, if not to say delightful seat neighbour than Dick had anticipated. Without her shady coach Jeremy Valeska by her side, she was genuinely friendly and funny and open-minded – so much so that a part of Dick wondered whether she might not be persuaded to switch from the Fun House in Blüdhaven to the Fries Academy in Gotham. At 18 years, it is unclear whether Harleen will continue competing for another Olympic cycle – she’d be 22 by the next Games and the age pressure is even more intense in the women’s discipline than it is in the men’s. Still, even if she goes professional and only does tours, every director would be happy to have her infectious energy as part of their line-up.

Right now, Harleen – or Harley, as she prefers to be called – is staring out of Dick’s window just as excitedly as the boy himself.

“What do you think the Olympic Village will be like?”, Dick asks in anticipation, as he watches the cityscape of Montreal slowly grow closer and larger.

“Well, for the ’76 summer games, they built this massive twin-tower thing that almost looked a pyramid from the front”, Harley answers, expert-like. “But now they have more athletes than back then, so this time they went for more regular high-rise buildings to accommodate everyone.”

“Either way, I can’t wait to get there”, Dick responds.

“I’m sure you can’t, Boy Wonder”, Harley comments, with a smug tone in her voice that makes Dick whip his head around to look at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know what they say about Olympic Villages once you’re done competing”, Harley smirks, wriggling her eye brows for added effect. “What happens in the Village, stays in the Village.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harley”, Dick tries to deflect, but the blush on his traitorous cheeks says otherwise.

“Sure you don’t, you sweet innocent Boy Wonder”, Harley pats his shoulder. “But I’m sure you’ll learn in a flash.”

***

The second the plane touches down, Dick pulls his phone out of the pocket of his sweat pants and switches off flight mode. A moment later, a new message appears on the screen. It’s from Wally.

Building 7. Room 15 😊 My roomie hasn’t arrived yet…

Dick cannot help but grin like an idiot. This must be Wally’s room at the Olympic Village. Even though he knows that he must be careful and not turn their relationship into an even more open secret than it already is – lest they get punished for it on the ice by some homophobic judges – Dick also knows that he will absolutely have to pay Wally a visit first before he moves into his own room. Competitors of the same discipline don’t usually share rooms, so unfortunately, he will not get live with Wally for the next two weeks. But still, hopefully their accommodations are close enough to each other that they can sneak off every now and then when they are not practising or doing press.

The disembarking, the collecting of luggage – which takes forever thanks to the number of identical suitcases provided by the US Olympic Federation – and the commute to the Olympic Village all go by in a blur for Dick. The excitement of finally being at the Olympics is now blended with the excitement of finally seeing Wally again in person. It’s been two weeks since Wally’s surprise visit at the Manor, and even though they’ve facetimed almost every day since then, Dick cannot wait to feel Wally’s long arms wrap themselves around him and the calm that the ginger boy always inspires in him. As the city of Montreal rushes by on the way to the village, Dick feels slightly bad for not paying more attention to the host city. But he will have all the time in the world to explore the place once the competition is over. Together with his family.

Together with my boyfriend.

Because Dick Grayson will be damned if Wally and him don’t start holding hands in public once their fates are no longer in the hands of the judges.

When they arrive at the Olympic Village, there is already a long queue at the reception centre of athletes, coaches, and officials who want to check in. Luckily none of them seem to be from Russia, judging by the flags that Dick sees on the various jackets. There are also several armed security guards next to the entrance of the Village. After terrorist attacks in the past, the Villages have become high-security areas, so that only the residents (and their family members, once properly checked) may enter. No press and media people are allowed, which to Dick is a welcome and much-needed relief. Even though figure skating is no longer as popular in the US as it was during the 90s or the Golden Generation of Diana and Clark, it still garners a lot of attention from journalists, especially during huge events like the Olympics. And naturally, nobody garners more attention than the 17-year-old Boy Wonder who may or may not become the youngest Olympic champion in men’s figure skating in just a few days.

After a surprisingly short wait – which speaks to the efficiency of the Canadian organization – Dick reaches the front of the line, checks in, and is handed his key card – and his face lights up.

Building 7. Room 21.

The same building as Wally! Only 6 rooms away from his!

Stepping away from the counter, Dick throws a glance over his shoulder to spot the rest of the Gotham delegation, but he can’t find them in the sea of people.

Well, we’re meeting for team dinner tonight at 7 anyway, Dick muses, so I’m sure nobody will be mad if I get going in the meantime.

Having made up his mind, Dick grabs a firm hold of his suitcases and enters the Village, which turns out to be a large park consisting of several tower-like buildings, each of them in a different colour, and green areas in between that are currently covered by thick snow. In no time, he reaches building 7 and takes the elevator up to the second floor, where rooms 13-24 are located. The entrance and the corridors are coloured in a light blue that matches the snowy atmosphere outside.

With every step he gets closer to the room, Dick feels his heart beat accelerating a little bit more. When he finally reaches the door, he places his suitcases next to it and steals a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that the corridor is empty.

It is.

Then he knocks.

Dick knows that he’s taking a risk, even just by visiting Wally in his room. His roommate could show up any minute now. But Dick no longer cares, is sick and tired of acting like their relationship is a crime.

This is what Romeo must have felt like when he sneaked into the garden of the Capulets… Dick muses. Although the star-crossed lovers may perhaps not be the best role models for a happy ending.

A second later, the crack of the door opens, a sliver of ginger hair appears in Dick’s field of vision and a hand grabs his arms and pulls him outside, making the surprised boy yelp. Hearing the door close behind him, Dick doublechecks to guarantee that’s it’s properly locked, before he finally turns around to face the freckled grin that he’s been dying to see more than anything and anyone in the world.

Unable to hold back any longer, Dick runs into Wally, hitting the older boy’s body with such force that the two topple over onto Wally’s bed. Their heads haven’t even touched the cushions yet when they start raining kisses down on each other, Dick devouring Wally’s mouth more urgently than ever before. It’s almost like the air in the room is toxic to his body and the only breathable substance left in the world is the oxygen in Wally’s lungs.

Yet, just when Dick senses that oxygen slowly running out, Wally gently pulls back his head and pants, “Wowowo, easy there, Boy Wonder, don’t knock me out just yet, I still have two gold medals to win.”

“Leave one for me, okay?”, Dick retorts, all breathless himself. When he has calmed down, he continues in a soft tone. “How was your flight?” Dick knows that Wally hates flying and probably hates talking about it just as much. Still he cannot help but wanting to hear every detail of his boyfriend’s journey.

“It happened”, said boyfriend answers, pulling himself upright into a crossed-legged position. “Had my eyes closed most of the time. Yelped in happiness when we touched down. Yours?”

“Uneventful and fast”, Dick says, lifting himself up too. “Though not fast enough, considering who was waiting for me.”

When they are face to face, Dick just stares at Wally for a second, marvelling silently at the emerald depth of his boyfriend’s eyes, the spread of freckles across his cheeks that Dick never tires to trace – and just at the goddamn fact that this is actually happening!

“You’re here!”, Dick finally blurts out in elated disbelief.

“Right back at you”, Wally grins, grabbing Dick’s hands in his and squeezing them. “We’re both here. At the freaking Olympics.”

Unable to take his eyes off Wally’s grinning face, Dick goes on, “It sounds so cheesy, but I dreamt of this moment. Ever since Nationals. You and me. Together. Here in Montreal.

“Ha, that does sound hella cheesy”, Wally laughs, “but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Bird Boy.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick fires back “And you know everything about being cheesy, don’t you, Flash?”

“Damn straight”, Wally smirks. Leaning forward, he cups the back of Dick’s head and presses their mouths together.

Closing his eyes, Dick feels like he’s drowning in Wally’s breath again as it’s fusing with his own, their bodies wrapped around each like nothing could ever tear apart – until the sound of a raspy voice from the other end of the room does exactly that.

“Yeah, well straight isn’t exactly the word I’d pick to describe the two of you.”

“AHH!!!”, Dick and Wally yell in shocked unison when their bodies jump apart as if on autopilot.

None other than Roy Harper is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, the biggest smirk ever known to mankind on his stupid face. His suitcases are lined up beside him.

“Ya know, when people say ‘get a room’”, he goes on, clearly enjoying nothing more than to milk every last ounce of awkwardness out of the situation, “they don’t usually mean a room that you have to share with somebody else.”

“Roy”, Dick stumbles forward in a desperate attempt to somehow salvage this embarrassing mess, “uhm, this is –“

“Wally West”, Roy answers nonchalantly, before Dick can finish. “My Olympic roommate. And your new favourite ginger, from the looks of it, Dickieboy.” He raises his eye brow pointedly at the raven-haired boy. “Should Babs and I be worried? Maybe y’all should do pairs next season. Once Kory and I got our gold medal, of course.”

Wally then steps forward himself and extends his hand towards Roy, who pushes himself off the wall and returns Wally’s gesture.

“You must be Roy Harper”, the freckled ginger says to the non-freckled ginger. “Wally West. So sorry for this, uhm, welcome, but Dick and I hadn’t seen each other for a couple of weeks and got a bit carried away.”

Judging from the way Dick can feels his cheeks heating up, he would not be surprised in the least if his raven hair had started turning ginger too.

“Don’t worry about it, Flash”, it’s all good”, Roy grins. “‘Cause trust me. You would not be getting within kissing distance of Dick Grayson if his big skating bro hadn’t given you his blessing.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick sighs, “Alright, alright, now who’s getting carried away?”

“Speaking of carrying, you need help with that?” Roy nudges his head towards the door, on the other side of which Dick’s suitcase are still waiting. “I’m amazed somebody so tiny needs that much luggage.”

Oh, so Roy is in a playful mood today?, Dick thinks. Very well.

“Well, not all of us dare to skate on Olympic ice half naked like you, Roy.” Images of Roy’s short programme flash through Dick’s mind. Lots of leather and see-though mesh. Sexy as hell, but definitely daring for the Olympics. Still, if anyone could pull that kind of outfit in figure skating off and make it look cool, Dick unfortunately has to admit that it’s Roy f*cking Harper.

Apparently, Roy agrees with him, because in response to Dick, he simply raises up his jacket and the sweater underneath, giving Dick the tiniest hint of the toned abs lurking there, and smirks, “You gotta give people what they want, okay? I just can’t help it that I’m this good looking.”

“Yeah, well, too bad you still won’t be the prettiest ginger on the ice for me”, Dick retorts, darting out his tongue at the older boy for added insult

“You can lead a horse to water”, Roy exhales in mock exasperation, “but you can’t make it drink. Same goes for birds, by the way.”

Dick’s just about to shoot back, when the reply on his lips is interrupted by a snigger from the other ginger in the room. “Uhm, sorry to interrupt”, Wally laughs, “but do you always bicker like this?”

“No, usually it’s worse”, Roy answers promptly and cheerfully. “Brother from a different mother kind of privilege.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Walls, this is me and Roy being nice”, Dick pacifies his boyfriend.

“Haha, noted”, Wally laughs.

***

Shower noises are the first thing that Dick hears when he enters room 21. A quick glance over the space confirms that there are already several suitcase and bags laying haphazardly opened next to the left one of the two single beds, which is already cluttered with t-shirts and socks.

So, my roommate is already here, Dick concludes. I wonder who it might be…

One by one, Dick carries his luggage over to the right, still unoccupied bed and starts to unpack, beginning with his duffel bag. The first thing that catches his eyes is the stuffed elephant in the Flying Graysons uniform that all his family had signed for Four Continents.

A wistful longing overcomes Dick.

Even though his whole family will travel to Montreal for the men’s event, and even though rationally he knows that he’s still much closer to home than at Four Continents this year or Worlds last year, he still cannot help but feel the tiniest bit of homesickness at this reminder of his loved ones. Especially Jason, who had the idea for this Grayson-styled elephant in the first place.

For the past two weeks, Dick’s mind has always gone back to that moment at the surprise dinner party, when Jason had reluctantly confessed his fear of ‘losing Dick’, now that Dick has a boyfriend. While Dick has tried his best over the last couple of weeks to ensure Jason that this fear would never come true, Dick’s heart still aches at the memory of the anxious and vulnerable tone in Jason’s voice, the forlorn look in his usually so feisty eyes.

If only there was a way I could prove to him just how much I love him and that I could never ever leave him alone, Dick ponders. If I win a medal here and get to the press conference, I will absolutely shout-out my brothers and showcase to all the world how much they mean to me.

Dick is so absorbed in the stuffed elephant in his hands and the memories of his brother in his mind that he does not even notice that the shower noises from the en-suite bathroom have stopped. He does however notice the sound of a door opening behind him.

When he turns around, Dick is met by a vision that instantly makes hot blood rush to his cheeks. The vision of a tall young man, whose muscular, eight-packed body is covered by nothing but a towel wrapped around his slender hips right now and whose slightly wet black hair is still dripping remnants of water onto his glistening pecs and the cheeks of his chiselled face.

A face that Dick has seen before. Many times. The last time being less than an hour ago.

“Hi, Dick!”, Conner Kent says with a smile, “Didn’t hear you come in! Sorry about the mess, I always need a shower after a flight.”

“Oh hi C-Conner!”, Dick stutters, still acutely aware of the heat in his face and of the body in front of him, and completely unaware of anything else. “D-don’t worry about the mess.”

When the fuck did Conner turn into a younger version of his super hunk of a brother?!, Dick wants to scream. Conner and him have been training at the same rink for years, and while Dick has always found Clark Kent’s little brother handsome in a boyish type of way, he’s never thought of him as sexually attractive.

Until now. Now, that boyish face has amassed the body of a man. Of a super man, even. Perks of throwing and lifting another human being around the ice all day.

I guess the gene to make teenage gays all flustered runs in the Kent family.

Thank goodness that Dick has Wally, and that Conner is straight and dating his pairs partner Megan. Because otherwise these Games would become a very hard long difficult two weeks for the Boy Wonder.

“Well, I guess that answers the question who I’ll be sharing a room with”, Conner suggests when Dick continues to stare at him dumbfounded.

“I guess it does”, comes Dick’s intelligent reply.

“You were gone so quickly after checking in”, Conner starts, walking towards his suitcase, “what happened?”

When Conner lets go of his towel as if there isn’t a whole other person in the room ogling at him right now, Dick frantically turns back to his own suitcase and focuses intensely on its contents. “Oh, I just helped, uhm, a friend, um, settle in…”

“A friend from Keystone, by any chance?”, Conner asks, in a noticeably sly tone. “With red hair?”

This makes Dick snap. No longer caring about whether Conner f*cking Kent has a f*ckin towel wrapped around his f*cking lower body or not, Dick whips his head around and exclaims, “Okay, does EVERYBODY know about this?!”

Still shirtless, Conner at least seems to have found some underwear and a pair of sweatpants, which makes it slightly easier for Dick to bear the vision of the other’s boy’s still very ripped and still very unclothed abs.

Side-eyeing the other boy, Dick sees the black shine of what looks suspiciously like a leather jacket among the insides of Conner’s suitcase.

Of f*cking course!, Dick wants to yell Just like his fucking brother. Why does every handsome guy need to strut around in a leather jacket, for crying out loud? If Wally brought a leather jacket, too, I may never leave Montreal alive.

“Dick, this is figure skating”, Conner shrugs, finally grabbing a t-shirt from one of his bags and putting in on, much to Dick’s regret relief. “There is no such thing as a secret in this sport. Even a debut senior like me knows that.”

“Well, I just hope that it doesn’t get to the wrong people, with me still being 17 and all”, Dick replies in a less defiant voice. “Don’t want a scandal a few days before the event.”

Conner’ formerly sly smirk now turns into an unabashedly cheerful, almost puppy dog-like grin. “Scandal or not, I’ll be sharing my room with an Olympic medallist by the end of the games, this is so cool!”

With a laugh, Dick turns back to the contents of his own bag. “Don’t bet your house on it just yet. As far as I recall, you medalled at Nationals, not me.”

“Stop being so humble, Dick”, Conner shoots back over his shoulder. “I saw your send-off skates. You’re gonna crush it, I know it.”

“We’ll see”, Dick tries to deflect, as the memory of a certain skater from Russia comes awfully close to occupying his brain. “But how are you and Megan doing? You had a pretty great send-off too.”

“We did, but we really don’t feel any pressure, you know? It’s our first season as seniors, and we won Bronze at Nationals and qualified for the Olympics. That’s more than we’d ever dreamed of a year ago. And who knows what’ll come next. Megan and I are both 16, so if we stay healthy, we could keep going for another two Olympics, maybe even three. So we’re just enjoying the moment, you know?”

Truth be told, I don’t know, Dick wants to say.

The ease and casualness with which Conner speaks makes Dick halt, turn around, and look at the other boy in more detail.

“I admire that in you, I really do”, Dick confesses. “That carefree attitude. Sometimes I wish I could have that, too.”

“A lot of it comes from Clark, actually”, Conner explains with a smile.

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah. He had a super long talk with me before I decided to compete internationally with Megan. He warned me about how people would constantly compare me to him. Kinda makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, he’s one of the greatest pair skaters of all time, so when his little brother decides to do pairs too, the comparisons basically write themselves.”

As he says this, Conner carefully retrieves a framed photograph of himself and his big brother from his luggage and places it on the nightstand next to his bed. Rather than just brothers, posing next to each other like that they look more like identical twins who miraculously were born over a decade apart from each other.

“What advice did he give you?”, Dick asks.

Conner looks at Dick with a firm gaze before he answers.

“A simple one. ‘Be your own skater’. That’s what he said. ‘Don’t try to be me or anybody else, Con, but yourself.’ And then the rest would follow all on its own. Trying to be somebody else only puts added pressure on you, and there’s enough pressure and judgement hitting you in this sport without your doing, so just be yourself and take things as they come. That will make you the best version of yourself that you can be.”

The best version of yourself that you can be.

Dick ruminates on those words for a silent moment. Then he comments, “And look at you now. Clark was right. Olympic figure skater Conner Kent. I bet Clark must be pretty damn proud of you.”

A bashful smile blossoms on Conner’s lips, as he rubs the back of his neck and – is that a blush on his chiselled cheeks?

“He is”, Conner mumbles, almost embarrassedly, “but to be honest, I’m also pretty proud that I get to share this experience with you, Dick.”

Dick must have misheard that last word.

“Me?”, he inquires disbelievingly.

“Yeah”, Conner confirms. “I’ve looked up to you for so long. Somebody at my age, who’s not only an incredible skater, but a genuinely nice guy, too. Even though we’re in different disciplines and don’t usually cross ways all that much in Gotham, you’ve been one of my skating role models for years, and now we’re roommates at our first Olympics. So, this is kind of a ‘pinch me’ moment right now, you know?”

Once again, Dick doesn’t know. It’s true that he is one year older than Conner, but never in a million years could he have imagined the younger boy seeing him as anything remotely resembling a role model. His big brother is Clark freaking Kent, one of the greatest pair skaters of all time. Why would he give a damn about a gay kid his age, who just had one of the most embarrassing performances in the history of US Nationals?!

“Wow, thank you, Conner”, is all that Dick manages to reply.

“Con!”, the other boy corrects him, holding out his hand.

“Con”, Dick repeats, accepting the offered hand and almost jumping at the firmness of Conner’s handshake.

Yup, Dick concludes then and there, if I didn’t have Wally, I would definitely be the worst kind of gay kid crushing on his straight friend the world has ever seen.

Relieved to let go of Conner’s strong hand, Dick pointedly clears his throat and starts, “Well you know what, Con, I say we better continue unpacking so that we’re ready for dinner tonight.”

“Good idea”, Conner answers cheerfully. “But you better leave some space on that shelve for that medal you’re about to win, Boy Wonder.”

***

Two days later

“The United States of America!”

Cheers and applause rise up all around the stands in the Montreal Olympic Stadium as the US athletes march into the massive open-air arena. The USA always send one of the largest delegations to the Olympic Games, well over 200 athletes this year, and since the countries walk out in alphabetical order, the US team is traditionally among the later countries to enter. Hundreds of Olympians from other nations are already assembled in the centre of the field, dancing lightly to the music playing in the background and documenting the spectacular moment with their phones.

Dick, meanwhile, is way too overwhelmed right now to operate his phone. He’s been to concerts and large stadium-sized sporting events before, but usually he’s been the one in the stands cheering on whoever was performing or competing below.

But today, I’m one of the people getting cheered on, he thinks in disbelief, gazing into the endless sea of flashlights across the arena that blend with the stars illuminating the crystal-clear night sky above their heads.

The figure skaters are walking close to the centre of the large group of athletes, Roy and Kory on Dick’s right-hand side, Wally (who was quickly adopted into the Gotham squad, courtesy of one Roy Harper), Conner and Megan on the other. Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan are leading the figure skating pack overall. Many had expected them to actually carry the US flag this year, given how much hype surrounds their retirement after the Games and their chance to finally win their elusive individual gold medal. But in the end, the honour was given to Captain Cold, aka Leonard Snart, the captain of the US men’s hockey team. Although going by the cheerful smiles on Carol and Hal’s faces, they seem perfectly contented with things as they are.

Every now and then, Dick’s eyes meet Wally’s, and the two boys cannot help but start to grin like idiots. In those moments, it takes every ounce of self-restraint in Dick’s body not to interlock their fingers with each other and never let go again.

Dick cannot express in words how good it feels to have Wally by his side to share this once-in-a-lifetime moment. Not just because he loves him. But also because Wally’s presence grounds and protects him from the other person whom Dick knows must be somewhere in the stadium already.

Looking over to the centre of the field, the tell-tale horizontal colours of white, blue, and red signal to Dick that the Russian delegation, almost as large as the one from the US, has already arrived. Luckily the mass of people is still too far away from Dick to make out any individual faces. Yet Dick knows. If Russia are here, then he’s here too.

Valentin Streltsov.

During practice this morning, Dick and Wally shared the ice with the Russian Bad Boy for the first time this season, and while they skated perfectly, nailing every jump they attempted – including the quad Axel in Dick’s case – so did Valentin. After his run-through, he threw pointed glances in Dick’s direction that all but screamed, I’m going to annihilate you. Dick stayed calm, deliberately taking his mind back to all the pep talks he’d had with Mr Fries, Dinah, and Bruce before leaving.

Still, he could not supress the nerves flaring inside of him as Valentin was burning him down with his death stare. If all the top skaters deliver clean performances, it will come down to the subjective preferences of the judges. And in that scenario, only a fool would bet against a Russian, unfortunately.

Still, I’m surrounded by my boyfriend, Dick tells himself now as the US delegation marches around the stadium, waving at the enthusiastic audience, by friends and coaches who all support me unconditionally. And in a few days, my family will be here too. And if Valentin Streltsov thinks he has an impressive death stare, he hasn’t met Alfred Pennyworth yet.

Directing his eyes towards the massive Olympic rings at the other end of the stadium where the Olympic flame will be ignited at the end of the ceremony, Dick takes a deep breath.

I’ve made it this far, and I’ll make the rest of the journey as well. And I will enjoy and embrace every step of the way, whatever it may bring.

Once all nations are gathered within the field of the arena, the lights go out and a laser show above their heads begins, accompanied by a musical mix of classical mix and electronic beats. It only lasts a few minutes, but it’s still one of the most impressive visual spectacles Dick has ever seen. All kinds of luminous shapes appear out of thin air and melt into one another, turning the Olympic Stadium in Montreal into a kaleidoscope of colours and flashes. Dick has no idea how they do it physically, considering that there’s no screen to project on to, but Dick finds it impossible to take his eyes off the show.

With a sudden bang, the lights disappear and the stadium is shrouded in complete darkness for a long moment, during which the audience applauds appreciatively. Then, into the darkness of the arena, a female voice starts humming melodically, supported by ambient music in the background.

A familiar female voice.

A familiar voice that Dick remembers from his Disney movie marathons when he was younger.

“Oh my God!”, Dick hears Megan and Harley Quinn, who has also joined the clutter of Gotham skaters, squeal in unison.

The voice hums again.

The voice that Dick remembers from a movie about an ill-fated ocean liner.

“Is that Celine?!”, Harley exclaims even more excitedly.

“IT IS!”, Kory yells, any pretensions of being a more mature skater thrown to the wind and now fangirling just as openly as everybody else.

I get wings to fly

Oh oh

I’m aLIVE

On cue with the last syllable, fireworks explode all around the roof of the stadium, turning the Montreal sky into a gigantic Olympic ring of golden sparks. At the same time, the lights throughout the arena slowly come to live again as a thumping beat thunders through the open space. Then, in the very middle of the field a stage begins to rise up from the ground, climbing higher and higher, until it finally reveals the famous Canadian singer in a golden dress and a matching coat, waving and gesturing towards the cheering athletes below her and the spectators in the stands.

When you call on me

When I hear you breathe

I get wings to fly

I feel that I'm alive

Dick can’t believe it. Celine freaking Dion. Not only is he at the opening ceremony of the freaking Olympics, with his boyfriend right by his side. But now he also gets to witness one of the most famous singers of all time perform live in front of him?! Befitting nis nick name 'Bird Boy', Dick really feels like he’s getting wings to fly right now, and judging by all the ecstatic faces and screams of the people around him, everybody else seems to feel so, too.

When you look at me

I can touch the sky

I know that I'm alive

The upbeat song goes into an instrumental break, and Dick suddenly feels a hand brushing against the knuckles of his own. Turning to his right, he finds Wally looking down at him with that same warmth and happiness that he exuded right before his free skate at Nationals. Just like then, the vision knocks the air out of Dick’s lungs, but not because of devastation, but because of elation. Elation that suddenly makes the lyrics of the song appear in a completely new light to him.

It's true. When Wally looks at him like that, Dick really does feel alive, and that he can touch the sky if he wants to.

If Wally looks at me like that, Dick realizes, nothing is out of reach. Not even the Olympic podium.

And what’s better: Dick knows in his heart of heart that Wally feels exactly the same about Dick too.

The thought brings back the by now all too familiar sting of tears behind Dick’s eyes, but for once, they are not tears of distraught, but tears of joy.

When you bless the day

I just drift away

All my worries die

I'm glad that I'm alive

Who knew that a 20-year-old pop song could suddenly sound like the anthem of Dick’s life?

Roy Harper apparently did, judging by how emphatically Dick suddenly hears his usually so edgy best friend sing along unabashedly to the Canadian diva. Instinctively, Dick knows what to do.

Quickly pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, Dick dives in front of his friend, unlocks the screen and starts recording. Roy, being the showman that he is, of course doesn’t miss a single beat and promptly starts delivering a passionate, gesture-filled performance into the camera of Dick’s phone. “You've set my heart on fire”, he sings in perfect unison with Ms Dion. “Filled me with love, made me a woman”, then he leans in very close so that Dick’s phone picks up nothing but his overacting face, “on clouds above!”

Dick can no longer hold back laughter, raises up his phone and slowly pans it around the crowd to capture the incredible moment as the second verse continues.

I couldn't get much higher

My spirit takes flight

'Cause I am alive

Backing vocals come in, as the song builds and builds. The moment it transitions into the second chorus, none of the US skaters, not even Dick can fight it any longer and all sing and dance along passionately and cheerfully, together with what sounds like everybody else in the packed arena.

When you call on me

When I hear you breathe

When I you breathe

I get wings to fly

I feel that I'm alive

Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan have broken into a full-on samba with each other, and honestly – if Dick knew those steps and didn’t have to keep his relationship with Wally a secret, he probably would, too. The euphoria in the air seems to be all-encompassing.

When you reach for me

Raising spirits high

God knows that

When the song transitions into the final bridge, Dick’s attention is drawn back to the singer on the raised stage in the centre and the lyrics of the song.

That I'll be the one

Standing by through good and through trying times

And it's only begun

I can't wait for the rest of my life

A key change, and the song explodes into the final chorus, but in his mind, Dick is still going over the lines he just heard. He will be the one standing by Wally, whether they are going through good or bad times, just as Wally will be standing by Dick. Stealing a sideway glance at Wally, who’s following the performance on stage, Dick realizes that it’s the greatest truth he’s ever known. Dick and Wally will have each other’s backs. No matter what. No matter if one of them becomes Olympic champion or neither. They will be there to support each other. Now and always. And that’s what the rest of Dick’s life will be.

But no.

Not just the rest of Dick’s life.

Nor the rest of Wally’s life.

No.

The rest of both of their lives.

‘Cause we’re in this together now, come what may, Dick understands. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I get wings to fly

God knows that I'm alive

As the sound of Celine Dion’s voice fades away into the explosive ovation in the stadium, Dick makes use of everybody’s distraction, clandestinely reaches for Wally’s hand and squeezes it.

Surprised, Wally looks down at his hand, and then at Dick, and there it is again. That emerald warmth in his eyes that Dick could bathe in forevermore.

It’s in that moment, beholding the smile on Wally’s lips and the smile in his eyes, and feeling the warmth of their hands interlocked, that Dick knows it for sure.

Wally West is the rest of my life. And I cannot wait for it to begin.

Chapter Text

“Our final skaters represent the United States of America. Kory Anders and Roy Harper!”

Dick screams as loud as he can when Kory and Roy skate to centre ice, looking perfectly composed and ready for action. Wally and Harley next to him, as well as Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan behind him do the same, making sure that the Team USA booth is heard in every corner of the arena.

Today is the second day of the figure skating team event, with the short programmes in the pairs’ and men’s discipline. Yesterday saw the rhythm dance and the women’s short programme, after which Team USA and Team Russia, the heavy favourites for gold, are tied with 18 points each.

In each team short programme, entries from all 10 competing countries perform, and the top entry earns 10 points for their team, all the way down to just 1 point for the lowest-placed entry. After all short programmes, only the top 5 countries overall advance to the free skate, where again the top entry in each segment gets 10 points, down to 6 for 5^th place. Technically, this means that the short programme is actually more important for the team event than the free, because the point difference between first and last place is greater and there is a lot more to gain/lose potentially.

For Team USA, day one went down pretty much as expected. Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan comfortably won the rhythm dance with their sensual performance to ‘Here we go again’ by Ray Charles and Norah Jones and – barring any unfortunate disasters like four years ago – look like locks for gold in the individual event.

Meanwhile Harley Quinn delivered a clean performance to ‘Circus’ by Britney Spears which was enough to bring her into third place, behind the skaters from Russia and Japan, but in front of Korea and Canada. That had been the main goal. Russia was always going to win the women’s event, no matter what, so the strategy was not to beat them, but to not lose too much ground on them in the overall ranking. Harley did achieve that, and both teams went into day 2 with a perfect tie.

That is, until 10 minutes ago, when unexpected mistakes from the Russian pair that skated just before Kory and Roy made the entire arena gasp and threw them down into second place, behind the Chinese pair, who did not skate perfectly, either. Kory and Roy now have an incredible opportunity: if they skate cleanly, they can beat both the Russian and the Chinese pair, which would give Team USA a 2-point lead over Russia.

And that is before my boyfriend will skate the bigoted smirk off of Valentine’s face in the men’s short afterwards, Dick anticipates proudly, glancing at Wally’s face next to him. Then our lead will be even bigger.

Yesterday’s practices went almost exactly as the ones before, with none of the top contenders showing any sign of weakness. It was almost as if everybody was afraid of making the first mistake in front of the judges observing the practice sessions – lest they come across as inferior to their competitors – so the men seemed to have collectively upped their game significantly. Wally was perfect, but so was Valentine, Dick had to admit. It would be a nail-biter of an event, until the very last second.

But Dick is confident that it’s gonna be Wally who comes out on top.

He just has to. Right?

Because if even the Russian pair – historically Russia’s strongest discipline by far – can make mistakes, then so can Valentine Streltsov.

Dick is pulled out of his thoughts about the upcoming event and back to the current one when he hears Harley on his left mumble, “Damn, these two really are every bisexual’s night mare, aren’t they?”

“Tell me about it”, Wally, on Dick’s right, sighs in agreement.

And truth be told, Dick can see their points. For lack of a better expression, Kory and Roy look like sex on legs on the ice. Kory is in a red catsuit that accentuates her dark skin and matches the colour of Roy’s hair perfectly, her own afro open and unbound. Meanwhile, Roy is wearing a skin-tight tank top made out of red mesh through which you can see his tattooed muscles underneath, and a pair of black leather pants. Dick suspects they must be made out of faux leather, because real leather would never allow for the kind of flexibility that you require in figure skating. But other than that, they look perfectly real to Dick – and perfectly sexy on Roy. If Roy had not been engrained into Dick’s teenage brain as a big figure skating brother years ago, he would definitely be a goner for the ginger punk right now.

It's a bold choice, overall, an edgy and modern aesthetic that you rarely see in the conservative sport of figure skating, but if anybody can pull that off, it’s Kory and Roy. They won silver at Worlds last year, and bronze at the Grand Prix Final. Why not add gold to the medal roster?

Kory and Roy take their opening positions, standing side by side but with their backs to each other, their hips ever so slightly tilted to create a sexy vibe to the programme before it has even started.

This is sick!

The sultry voice of Janet Jackson fills the arena and on cue Kory and Roy snap their heads towards one another, as if they spotted themselves across the dance floor of a crowded night club. A sexy guitar riff follows which spontaneously earns cheers from parts of the audience, and Dick himself has to restrain himself from not simply cheering full out.

Kory and Roy turn towards each other, Kory grabbing hold of Roy’s strong arms behind her and sliding down his muscular torso, a seductive grin aimed right at the judges adorning her face.

“Lucky Roy”, Harley sighs to Dick’s left, while Wally, on his right, moans, “Lucky Kory”. Dick sniggers, tilts his head to look at Wally, and murmurs, “You are literally sharing a room with him, Walls. It’s not like you’re seeing anything that you haven’t seen throughout the last few days already. It’s just leather and mesh.”

“True”, Wally admits, but then leaning closer to Dick, he whispers into Dick’s ear, “but what about leather without mesh?”

Wally leans back, a suggestive smirk on his face, and Dick can feel the heat rush to his cheeks as he’s absolutely not trying to imagine a completely shirtless Roy Harper in the very tight and very shiny leather pants he’s wearing right now.

Neither am I imagining a shirtless, leather-clad Wally West. Nope. Absolutely not.

Nor is Dick thinking about the fact that at the bottom of his suitcase at the Olympic Village there currently lies an identical pair of leather pants to Roy’s but in Dick’s size which the 17-year-old secretly purchased after he first saw the short programme costume of his big skating bro. The trousers just looked so amazing – so edgy, cool, and ‘I don’t give a f*ck’ – on Roy’s toned body that Dick immediately wanted to look exactly the same– only that he’d never be brave enough to dress like that in public.

Not yet.

One day when he finally has the courage to present his boyfriend to the world, Dick hopes that he will also dare to wear the pants in pride, without caring what anybody has to say. He doubts that this moment will occur here in the high-pressure environment of the Olympics, but a hunch made Dick throw the trousers into his suitcase regardless, because you can never for sure, right?

Attention, it’s time to dance

Luckily for Dick and his gay teenaged brain, the music kicks into full gear that very moment. The beat drops, the opening chorus of the song begins, and Kory and Roy speed across the ice, gaining momentum to get ready for their opening element: the triple twist. Skating behind her. Roy, places his hands on Kory’s hips and then throws her up in the air. Kory’s legs open into a split on their way, before her body rotates three times in the air. As she goes down again, Roy expertly catches her and gently places her back down on the ice.

“YES!”, Dick shouts as Kory and Roy both exit the twist, skating only on one foot. The twist is not only one of the most spectacular elements in pairs skating and among the most valuable ones in terms of points; if done well, it also sends a huge signal right at the beginning of the programme, and Kory and Roy’s was done perfectly: explosive yet controlled, high yet elegant.

They are off to a great start!, Dick thinks excitedly.

And that great start continues, as they keep nailing one element after another. The programme was choreographed by none other than Pamela Isley, a former ice dancer who is known for her sensual and highly musical routines, and this one really is the peak of that. Every single move seems to be in accordance with the music. When Janet sings, “this rhythm just makes me high”, Kory takes off into her perfectly executed throw triple flip. When the lyrics go, “Can we take this party higher? Now just put your hands to the sky”, Roy does exactly that, raising Kory up into a lift with just one hand and rotating across with ice while she above him changes from one elegant pose into another.

All of that while also serving face face face.

“My God, those programme scores better be going through the roof for them”, Dick says in awe at one point.

“They better!”, Harley exclaims in agreement. “I mean, they are basically eye-f*cking each on the beat, while also doing throws and lifts and stuff. It’s just crazy.”

Harley has a point. If you didn’t know that they are both dating different people, there was absolutely no way you would not presume that Kory and Roy are couple, the wway they are skating.

When Dick turns his head back towards the ice, Kory and Roy are just exiting the death spiral, that famous spin where the male partner lowers the female partner while the latter, getting close to the ice, arches backward on one foot. A few more steps while the music builds into a climax, then Roy falls to his knees in front of Kory, as is worshipping a goddess, and Kory once again arches her hips as if on a photoshoot.

“YEEEAAAAHHHHH!!!!!”, the entire Team USA booth scream in unison, Dick arguably the loudest among them. Normally, he’s unbearably nervous when he watches his friends skate, almost more nervous than when he’s skating himself. But today – he just realizes – it was different. Kory and Roy were so perfectly in control of each other, of the ice, and of the programme that at no point did Dick have any doubt they’d kill their performance. And they did, and are now basking in the well-deserved standing ovation from the ecstatic audience.

The cheering continues when the two, along with Gotham’s team coach Alan Scott, finally reach the booth where they will receive their scores. Dick is the first to wrap his arms around his big skating bro, almost laughing, “Dude, you just absolutely killed it, what the f*ck!” When they pull apart, Roy merely grins and says with wink, “Maybe I was inspired by your send-off”.

When Dick hugs Kory, he compliments, “Kory, you were a freaking goddess out there!” Kory, ever humble and self-deprecating, instinctively lays a hand on Roy’s arm and answers, “Thanks Dick, but you can only be a goddess with a worshipper.” With a knowing glance over his shoulder, Roy adds, “Amen!”

Once Kory and Roy have done the congratulatory rounds, they gather around the screen at the low front of the booth, watching a replay of some elements, before the dreaded voice of the announcer hushes the arena.

“Kory Anders and Roy Harper from the United States of America have earned in the short programme 83,95 points, which is a personal best. They are currently in first place. This concludes the pairs’ short programme. The team event will continue today at 5pm with the men’s short programme.”

The last two sentences of the announcer are completely drowned out the cheers from the audience and the screams of the US skaters.

They did it! They f*cking did it! Kory and Roy won the short programme, and now Team USA is leading Team Russia by two whole points!

Dick’s head turns towards the ginger-haired young man next to him.

Soon to be three points. At the very least.

***

“Our next skater represents the Russian Federation. VALENTIN STRELTSOV!”

Dick exhales deeply, watching Valentin take to the ice, looking perfectly elegant in black suit trousers and a white dress shirt. Once again, he’s sitting in the Team USA booth, Harley and Roy on either side of him, watching the men’s short programme of the team event.

If only Wally and I could hold each other’s hands right now…, Dick wishes silently. Alas, Wally, the final skater to perform, is backstage, warming up and getting ready, while Valentin, the penultimate skater, assumes the opening pose of his short programme to Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1.

“Seems like your Tchaikovsky shade at Four Continents did not make him change his music after all”, Harley jokes beside him, but Dick finds he’s too nervous to laugh.

The importance of the next to skates hangs almost oppressively heavy in the air. In every Olympic season, the European Championships provide a test-run for the Olympics a month later. Certain skaters, i.e. Russian skaters, will be set-up with inflated scores, priming them for the Games where their scores will be even more inflated. And now, with the team event added to the schedule, there is yet another chance to crank up the Grades of Execution and the Programme Component Scores just a little bit higher before the main event has even started.

So far, the men’s short programme has gone according to expectations. Jiro Osamu is in the lead after his strongest programme all season that earned him a huge 110.81 points – a higher score than Valentin’s at Europeans and one that would arguably put him in medal contention in the individual event, too. Even Jean-Paul Valley did well, skating a personal best of 106,03 on home ice. Korea and France, meanwhile, are not competing in the team event, so neither Connor Hawke nor André Blanc-Dumont are participating. They, just like Dick, will only enter the fray in the individual competition.

Still, a skate-off is a skate-off, and whoever between Wally and Valentin wins that skate-off will earn a significant boost of momentum going into the individual event that will conclude the figure skating competitions at these Games.

What’s worse, Wally and Valentin are planning the exact same technical content. Quad lutz / triple toe loop combination, quad flip, triple Axel. They are setting themselves up for a direct comparison, and of course Dick has not forgotten what happened the last time Wally performed his short programme on competitive ice…

Just nail it, Walls, Dick prays silently, and wipe that smirk from his f*cking face.

Tchaikovsky’s famous music arises through the speakers of the arena, and Valentin begins his programme. It’s a clever choice of music to contrast his free skate and showcase Valentin’s aesthetic variety. Classical and elegant in the short, edgy and contemporary in the free. Most skaters would probably reverse that order, but Valentin Streltsov is not like most other skaters, in no way whatsoever.

Anybody with eyes can see that Valentin does not possess the necessary skating skills to do justice to the sweeping beauty of Tchaikovsky’s music. But what Valentin lacks in grace and elegance, he certainly makes up in the speed and sheer size of his skating. Dick is loath to admit it, but none of the other skaters before him covered nearly as much ice as Valentin is covering right now, which will definitely help his programme scores. Even worse, any hopes of Valentin possibly having a bad day fly out the window at the beginning of the programme when he nails a picture-perfect quad-triple combination that even earns a reluctant “Wow”, from Roy.

The other elements go just as flawlessly, so when he ends the programme with his mindbogglingly fast combination spins, the audience promptly jump out of their seats and give him a deserved standing ovation.

Dick forces his hands into a clapping motion, but can’t stop himself from mumbling under his breath, “Fuck…”.

Valentin was perfect. Absolutely perfect. And judging by the smug grin on the blond Russian’s face as he’s bowing to the four sides of the arena, he knows it too. Sure, his skating skills are not on the same level as Jiro Osamu or even Wally, but Dick highly doubts that the judges will take that into consideration when scoring him. If they did not do that at Europeans, they certainly won’t now.

Which means that Wally, you need to skate your absolute best to keep up, Dick sends a wordless message in Wally’s direction who now appears on the other side of the arena, takes off his blade guards and skates onto the ice, while Valentin and his coach move to Team Russia booth that welcomes him euphorically. Valentin’s score will be huge, whether deserved or not, so Wally must not give the judges any reason to rank him below the Russian.

Instead of watching the replay on the screen, Dick focusses his attention on Wally, rounding the rink, trying to send as much positive energy to his boyfriend as he can.

You can do this, Walls. I know you can. He still holds the World record in the short programme at 113.47 points. If anybody can do this, it’s Wally.

Then the voice of the announcer startles Dick out of his mind.

“The scores, please.”

The tell-tale hush falls over the arena and Dick’s heart is beating so fast that it’s almost like he’s waiting for his own scores, rather than for Valentin’s.

“Valentin Streltsov from Russia has earned in the short programme 114,15 points, which is a new personal best. He’s currently in first place.”

The scream coming out of the Russian skater is so loud that Dick can hear it, despite Team Russia and Team USA being placed at opposite ends of the team booths. That scream and Wally’s presence on the ice are about the only two things that keep Dick from passing out amidst the cheers from the crowd and the dead silence in the Team USA booth.

Valentin Streltsov just broke Wally’s World record. At the Olympics. After already breaking Dick’s free skate record at the European Championships.

He now holds both World records.

We truly have no chance against him, Dick begins to panic.

Roy appears to have a similar opinion, grunting, “Those programme component scores are ridiculous…”

But then, the voice of the announcer and a mop of ginger hair rushing past Dick remind him that not all hope is lost yet.

“Our final skater represents the United States of America. WALLACE WEST!”

A confident smile on his face, Wally waves briefly waves at the crowd, and skates towards the centre of the ice.

“COME ON, WALLY!!!!”, Dick screams, having to fight his body to not stand up right then and there.

Apparently, Dick’s scream was loud enough to catch Wally’s attention, who throws a brief glance in the direction of the US booth. Wally’s eyes immediately find Dick’s and Dick silently mouths the greatest truth he has ever known towards his boyfriend.

“I love you.”

Wally’s does not mouth anything back, but neither does he need to. The warmth in his green eyes and the small but unmissable nod of his head are all the signs of reciprocation that Dick could ask for.

From one moment to the next, Wally’s face turns from amorous to sombre, befitting the darkness of his music, T.T.L.’s ‘Deep Shadows’, which begins a few seconds later.

Dick only has to take one look at Wally’s first motions to know that his boyfriend is fully in the zone. He is determined, focussed and fully in his body, his knees bending more deeply into the ice than Valentin’s ever have. This not the imploding Wally from Nationals. This is a Wally who’s not giving up without a fight.

No.

The Wally who fights back.

When Wally takes off into his quad Lutz / triple toe loop combination, Dick’s heart is about to jump out of his chest with him. His rotations are so fast that they make the green rhinestones on his black costume look like sparks of energy shooting through the air. But despite the incredible speed, the combination goes perfectly, Wally holding the pointed free leg on the ride-out even longer than Valentin to make sure he squeezes every little point out of his programme.

Holding his breath for almost the entire programme, Dick only allows himself to exhale once Wally’s lands the triple Axel, completing his trifecta of perfectly executed jumps. For the final 30 seconds of the programme, Wally speeds off into his step sequence and his spins, throwing himself with visible passion into the choreography.

Once the thunderous drums of the music have died done, the only instrument left to hear is the creepy electronic xylophone. Wally glides towards the middle of the rink, coming to a wide-legged standstill. As he does so, he runs both hands oppositely across his throat, as if cutting it, then he raises them as if surrendering himself to the police.

Now there’s no holding Dick back any more. “YEAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!”, he screams at the top of his lungs, the rest of the Team USA booth and the sold-out crowd jumping to their feet along with the raven-haired boy.

A second later, a huge smile of relief spreads on Wally’s face. He’s done it. Dick has seen all of Wally’s programmes, and this was arguably the best short programme he ever skated. Better even than his one at Worlds last year, the one with which he set a new World record.

Say goodbye to your World record, Valentin, Dick thinks proudly and confidently as Wally takes his bows, in a few moments, the World record will be back where it belongs.

But looking at the small screen in front of the booth, Dick seems something that he does not understand. Something that unnerves him.

Wally’s live technical score.

It’s high. But not high enough. Lower, in fact, than what Valentin ended up with. Not by much. But still. Lower is lower.

How can that be?, Dick wonders in lone confusion, while nobody else appears to have noticed Wally’s low tec score. Wally performed the exact same technical content as Valentin, and his jumps were the fastest and highest they’ve ever been. There’s no way the Russian could have earned better Grades of Execution for his elements than Wally!

But the numbers don’t lie. Technical scores always fluctuate a bit after the end of a programme because the tech panel reviews certain elements, e.g., to double-check if a jump was fully rotated or not. So the surprise itself isn’t that Wally’s tech score hasn’t settled down yet.

It’s that it’s trending downward. Widening the gap between Wally and Valentin.

But this makes no sense! All of Wally’s jumps were clean – what the hell is the judges’ problem? If it were any other skater, Dick would not scrutinize the scoring as much. But this is Wally versus Valentin. USA versus Russia. And even though it’s just a difference of 1,5 points between them, that’s 1,5 points too many in Dick’s rule book – without Valentin’s inflated PCS added to the tally.

The ecstatic grin on Wally’s face when he reaches the Team USA booth tells Dick that the ginger hasn’t heard of the technical scores yet, so the Boy Wonder puts on his best game face as he hugs his boyfriend in a decidedly non-romantic way and congratulates him. “Well done, Walls”, Dick smiles when he pulls back, “you were amazing!”

“Thanks, Dickie”, Wally smiles back in return, visibly trying not to kiss him.

And I pray to all he gods in the universe that the judges will agree with me, Dick adds silently.

By the time Wally has finished hugging everybody in the booth, the slo-mo replay of his programme elements is almost over and Wally sits down in the middle of the front bench, Barry Allen on his right side, Dick on his left.

“The scores, please.”

If there weren’t a dozen or so cameras filming them this very moment, broadcasting their image not only to the thousands of spectators in the arena, but also to the millions of people watching at home around the world, Dick would be squeezing the life out of Wally’s hand right now.

This is what Bruce must be going through whenever I compete, Dick realizes in amazement. How does he handle that?!

Then the moment of truth arrives.

“Wallace West from the United States has earned in the short programme 112,86 points, which is a new season’s best. He is currently in second place. This concludes the men’s short programme. The team event will continue at 9.30 am tomorrow with the free dance.”

Instead of jubilant cheers and applause, a wave of disapproving grumble runs through the arena. Behind Dick, Roy even curses, “This is bullshit!”, not even trying to hide his anger from the recording cameras and microphones.

But none of these sensations break through to Dick. The only sensations that his suddenly numbed body manages to process are the freefall in his gut, and the vision he is faced with when he turns his head sideways.

A vision he never imagined, let alone hoped, he’d one day see.

The freckled face of Wally West, drained of all its usual colourful liveliness, a single solitary tear running down his left cheeks.

Wally lost.

FIGURE SKATING: RUSSIAN BAD BOY UPSETS FLASH IN TEAM EVENT

 

By Vicki Vale

 

The Olympic Figure Skating competitions have barely started, but they’ve already delivered the first major upset: Valentin Streltsov (23) won the men’s short programme of the team event, dealing a shocking defeat to Wallace West (20) from the USA who placed second. The loss comes as a serious blow to West’s aspirations for Olympic gold after winning both the Grand Prix Final and US Nationals and going into Montreal as the bookmakers‘ favorite in the men’s single discipline.

At first, the winning streak of the two-time World champion seemed to be continuing. Skating to “Deep Shadow“ by T.T.L., West delivered a stunning performance and scored a season’s best of 112,86 points. Still, that was not enough to best his own World record from last year’s World Championship, nor the new record set by the skater before him just minutes prior.

This time, West’s famous speed which has earned him the nickname ‘Flash’ was no match for Valentin Streltsov’s sheer jumping power. The self-proclaimed ‘Russian Bad Boy‘, who’s repeatedly made waves over the years with homophobic remarks, had been out of the sport for more than two seasons following a series of injuries. At this years’ Russian Nationals, however, the former World champion staged a golden comeback which he solidified a few weeks later with a victory at the European Championships, scoring a new world record in the free skate. Now he can add another achievement to his record books, setting a new world record of 114.15 points in his Olympic short programme to Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 and obliterating the old bench mark set by West.

The result certainly proved controversial among fans and the skating community, with many people claiming that West was underscored and that this result did not reflect his superior skating skills. West himself was unusually taciturn after the competition, only saying that his focus is now on the individual event – without commenting on Streltsov’s scores or his own.

Following his spectacular showing, Valentin Streltsov has unsurprisingly surpassed West in the odds to take the individual title next week. His victory in the short programme could also be consequential for the team event as a whole. Despite winning both the rhythm dance and the pairs’ short programme, West’s unexpected loss has shrunk the lead of Team USA over Team Russia to just one point before the free skates, which take place tomorrow. The Montreal Games are only the third Olympics to feature a figure skating team event, and while Team USA won both previous renditions, they will have to fight hard to complete the trifecta.

Meanwhile it has been announced that reigning World champion Dick Grayson (17) will skip the team event to focus on his individual event. Grayson has had a tumultuous 12 months, becoming the first skater in history to land a quadruple Axel in competition at last year’s World championships but then finishing in dismal 6th at US Nationals last month – only to bounce back with a silver medal at Four Continents two weeks later. In Grayson’s stead, Victor Stone (25), bronze medallist at the Munich games four years ago and silver medallist at US Nationals this year, will represent Team USA in the men’s free skate of the Team Event, which looks primed to be another one-man show of the Russian Bad Boy.

Chapter Text

FIGURE SKATING: RUSSIA TRIUMPH OVER USA IN TEAM EVENT

 

by Vicki Vale

 

It was a closely fought battle, but in the end, Team Russia came out on top in the Olympic figure skating team event, winning Gold by just one point over Team USA and Team Canada who narrowly beat out Team Japan to take bronze in front of their home crowd. Russia thus ended the golden streak of Team USA who had won both team events at the past two Olympics Games and had been favourites for the Montreal games too.

Even though Carol Ferris (31) and Hal Jordan (32) predictably repeated their strong rhythm dance performance to win the free dance as well, beating Canada and Russia into second and third place, this was not enough to maintain the lead position as the Russian competitors outscored their US rivals in all three remaining free skates and narrowly defeated Team USA 73 to 72. The star of the event, once more, was Valentin Streltsov who skated a stunning free programme to “Seven Nation Army” by The White Stripes, scoring a staggering 225,61 points and besting his own World record which he had set just weeks ago at the European Championships.

Looking at the disappointed faces of Team USA after the conclusion of the event, one cannot help but feel particularly sorry for Wallace West, whose victory in the men’s short programme had looked all but assured and would have earned his Team the missing points to take the win. Yet, despite going undefeated all season and delivering a strong short programme, West was shockingly outscored by Streltsov and pushed down to second place. With his first hope of Olympic gold crushed, his only chance remains the individual event on Friday. Therein, however, West will face a twofold uphill climb: not only will it be a rematch against Streltsov; West will also have to compete against his US team mate and reigning World champion Dick Grayson (17), whose elusive quad Axel appears more essential than ever to have any hope against the Russian powerhouse. The short programme on Friday will tell if West has recovered from his unexpected defeat, or if the Flash is just not the powerhouse skater that we thought he was.

That morning at breakfast in the Olympic Village, Dick needed only one good look at Wally’s face, especially at his red, bloodshot eyes, to know that his boyfriend had just read the same infuriating article as him. These shitty think pieces by Vicki Vale really had a way of making their presence known, unfortunately.

Dick wanted nothing more than to just wrap Wally up in his arms and never let go and make him forget all about the team event. But he knew that he couldn't. The last thing that either of them needs right now is another scandal so close to the individual event that might influence the judges' perception of them. Still, seeing Wally's tear-stricken cheeks try to hold up a positive facade almost hurt Dick more than Dick's very own tears after bombing the free skate at Nationals this year. So as soon as they had downed the last drops of coffee, Dick finally took the initiative. First, he sent off an apologetic message to the family group chat, explaining the situation. His family had arrived yesterday and had made sightseeing plans for today, but since Wally was practically part of the family now, they of course understood.

Then, Dick grabbed Wally and hopped on a bus with him to get some much-needed distance, not just from the Olympic Village, but from everything Olympic more generally. He had looked up places to go for a nice long walk and the Lachine canal, with its long water way and nice blend of nature and old industrial sites had struck him as the perfect place, especially on the rare February day in Montreal like today when the weather is good enough that the frozen Canal shines as brightly as the blue sky above. Nothing like a bit of water near you, Dick finds, to calm down your worries and concerns. And gazing at his boyfriend’s face right now, his ginger hair a blazing flame against the white snow surrounding them, Wally at least no longer seems on the verge of crying, which Dick counts as a success.

After a couple of minutes of calmly walking along the Canal, enjoying the refreshingly cold air in their lungs, Dick decides that it’s finally time to address the elephant in the room.

“What did Barry say about all this?”, he asks tentatively, looking at his boyfriend next to him and struggling not to hold his hand in order to show him his support.

“Ha, I’d rather not repeat his worlds in public”, Wally laughs, “lest I get banned from the Games or arrested.”

Dick smiles, relived that Wally’s sense of humour hasn’t completely disappeared yet.

“I can imagine.”

“What about Selina?”, Wally asks in return.

“She was fuming, too”, Dick answers truthfully. “But according to her, the judging panel for the individual event will be less Russia-friendly. Or at least the pool of judges from which the panel will be drawn.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t bet my house on it”, Wally sighs, resignation in his voice. “And besides, I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference, anyway. Losers gonna lose, right?”

At the sound of those words, Dick stops and grabs Wally’s shoulder, looking deeply into the ginger’s green eyes

“Hey, Walls. You are NOT a loser, okay?! You are an Olympic silver medallist who just skated an incredible short programme. The best I’ve ever seen from you. It’s not your fault that the judges for whatever reason couldn’t see that.”

Wally breaks eye contact, mumbling evasively, “But still it’s my fault that we didn’t win the gold.”

“Wally, that’s bullshit, and you know it”, Dick repeats, even more emphatically. “What about the others who didn’t win their segments? Kory and Roy only came third in the free skate. They left even more on the table than you. What happened is not your fault.”

Wally’s gaze remains distant.

“The funny thing is that I’m not even upset that I didn’t win a gold medal myself. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about the colour of my medals. It’s the others that I’m upset for. They counted on me. And I let them down when they needed me most…” His voice is interrupted by a sudden sob.

“You didn’t let anybody down”, Dick tries to reaffirm him. “You should have seen how proud everyone was of you while you were skating. I was screaming so loudly I was surprised I had any voice left the next day.”

“Carol and Hal didn’t buckle under all the pressure, though”, Wally continues as if he didn’t hear Dick. “They did what everybody expected of them. So why didn’t I?”

“But you did! You didn’t buckle under pressure, Walls! You skated the best short of your career, and in a fair competition you would have beaten Valentin. Everybody thinks so.”

“Except the judges.”

This is going nowhere, Dick realizes. But perhaps the way to break through to Wally isn’t rationality, but humour.

“Maybe, now that my family is here, I should get the judges acquainted with Alfred and my brothers”, Dick jokes. “Then they might see the light.”

Wally neither chuckles nor cracks a smile.

Something’s seriously wrong.

Dick looks at Wally for a long, quiet moment, trying to find a way into his boyfriend's mind, before saying, “But that’s not all, is it?” A pause, then Dick adds, "This isn't just about the scores, is it?"

Wally merely shakes his head and sits down on an empty bench by the Canal. When Dick joins him, Wally pulls out his phone and hands it to Dick. A text message is displayed on the screen. Seeing the name of the sender, Dick’s stomach turns.

Rudolph West.

Wally’s father.

Why didn't you block this number years ago, Walls?!, Dick wants to say, That man beat you up and threw you out onto the street!! Then again, Dick understands the special bond between a child and their parents better than most people, and that despite what this man did to Wally, there must still be the tiniest spark of hope in Wally that his dad might one day change for the better, after all.

After a second to brace himself, Dick reads the actual message.

Beaten by a damn Russian. You always were a disgrace to me, but now you’re a disgrace to your country too.

Dick doesn’t even realize that his hand holding Wally’s phone is shaking from anger when he looks up at his boyfriend next to him and cannot find any words to say. So instead, Wally, once gazing forlornly at the other side of the Canal with a watery shine in his eyes, begins, “It’s just that … I feel so disheartened after that short programme. If I can’t beat Valentin with that, then what’s even the point of trying in the individual event? Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe I am a disgrace.”

Dick throws caution about their relationship to the winds, wrapping his arms around Wally and whispering into his ear, “You are not a disgrace, okay?! If anybody is a disgrace, it's your dad for saying this shit! You’re my boyfriend, and I love you!”

Wally doesn’t respond, but the shaking of his shoulders and the soft sobbing noises are responsive enough.

Dick is about to say more, but then a sneering, Russian-accented voice behind their backs cuts him off.

“Aww, look at that, the ginger fag and the gipsy fag consoling each other, how adorable. Maybe you should become boyfriends, then you can weep together all the time. Don’t worry, though, gipsy fag, you’ll know what it’s like to lose against me soon enough, too.”

Instantly, Dick and Wally pull apart and jump to their feet to find none other than Valentin Streltsov standing on the other side of the bench. The blond man is grinning smugly, wearing a black leather jacket and his gold team medal hanging around his neck.

When neither Dick nor Wally say anything to him, Valentin picks up his medal and looks at it like a fine piece of accessory, his smirk only widening. “Oh, by the way, don’t you think that gold looks on me? Granted, I can make anything look good.” He then pops the collar of his leather jacket to make himself look even more like a hunky douchebag than he already does. “Too bad they don’t hand out medals just for participating, because that’s the only medal you’re gonna get next week.”

Wally appears unable to offer any verbal comeback, so instead Dick takes the initiative.

“You only won that short programme because of corrupt judging!”, he hisses.

Valentin merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow in return.

“Is that what you tell yourself when you go to sleep at night?” Then he walks closer to Dick and adds in a snide tone “Then why don’t you prove it?”

Dick is fuming, but cannot say anything, provoking a vindicated laugh from the Russian.

“See? You can’t. Just as you know that you can’t beat me. I don’t need any judges to wipe the floor with both of you. No. I wipe the floor with you fags because I’m simply better than you.”

Wally doesn’t need to hold Wally’s hand to sense that he’s trembling – especially because Dick can feel himself shaking, too. Hearing Valentin say those acidic words makes his worst fears, the nightmares that he’s had ever since Valentin won Europeans, come true. His deepest self-doubts materializing right in front of him in the leather-clad hunky Russian bad boy.

Said bad boy takes another step towards them, so that now only the bench is keeping them apart. In the most condescending, patronizing voice that Dick has ever had, Valentin continues.

“You can’t beat me. You know you can’t. You will never be enough against me. That’s the problem when you’re too busy getting fucked in the ass to be a real man. You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you know that’s true. Deep down, you know that I’ll always be superior to you little fags and that everything you think you can do, I can do ten times better.”

Dick lets Valentin’s last words run through his mind several times.

Everything you think you can do, I can do ten times better.

Suddenly, a light goes on in Dick’s head.

“Except one thing”, he corrects Valentin in uncharacteristically calm defiance.

“What?!”, the Russian blurts out, clearly not used to being spoken against.

“The Axel”, Dick clarifies, the softest of smirks on his face.

“What did you just say, freak?”, Valentin spits, his confusion quickly turning into anger.

Gotcha, Dick cheers silently.

“You heard me”, Dick answers, standing perfectly composed. “The Axel. You’ve never landed the quad Axel. You’ve never even tried it. At least not where people can see you. Can see you fail.”

Seething, Valentin grits his teeth and clenches both of his fists.

It’s working, Dick realizes, so he pushes on.

“I however have landed the quad Axel. Multiple times. Including every practice session here. Must be pretty embarrassing for the self-proclaimed greatest jumper in the world to be outjumped by a teenage gipsy fag.”

“Who cares about your stupid quad Axel?”, Valentin attempts to sneer, but it’s clear as day that Dick’s words have gotten under his skin. “I didn’t even need one to break your pathetic World record at Europeans.”

“True”, Dick concedes, “but then again, breaking World records would be difficult when you open your programme with a fall, right? And that’s about the only way your attempt at a quad Axel could have ended. If you actually had the guts to try it, of course. Which I guess you don't. Isn’t that so, Valentin?”.

Finally, Valentin snaps. Before either Dick or Wally can stop him, he reaches over the bench and grabs the collar of Dick’s jacket.

“How fucking dare you?!”, he growls angrily. Then, Valentin’s right hand lets go of Dick and pulls back into a fist. You ugly little fag, I will – ”

“I would put that fist down, if I were you”, Dick interrupts him in a decidedly louder tone than before. “I doubt the Russian delegation would appreciate headlines about a homophobic hate crime committed by one of their star athletes in broad day light. With people watching. In a country like Canada where they take equal rights much more seriously than where you come from.”

Dick nudges his head to the sidewalk behind them, where indeed several people have stopped to stare at Valentin preparing to punch Dick in the face. A couple of teenagers have even gotten their phones out to record the scene.

Reluctantly, Valentin lets go of Dick, anger radiating off his body in a heat wave. Meanwhile, Dick puts on his most cheerful smile and casually dusts off the parts of his jacket where Valentin touched him.

“See, that’s wasn’t so hard, even for a brainless oaf like you”, he jokes.

“You dirty little freak”, Valentin hisses through gritted teeth. “I will crush you so bad next week that you will never dare to set another foot on the ice ever again.”

“Ha, good luck trying that without the Axel”, Dick chuckles in response. He has no idea where his cocky confidence is coming from all of a sudden, but by now he seems to be past the point of no return.

“You wanna see the fucking quad Axel?!”, Valentin prompts furiously. “Then you WILL see the fucking quad Axel. And afterwards, when you watch from the boards as they hang another gold medal around my neck, you will wish that you’d never been born.”

“I’ll be waiting”, Dick smiles serenely.

With a loud curse in Russian that Dick is glad not to understand, Valentin turns on the spot and stomps off, shoving the teenagers filming him rudely aside.

Dick’s eyes follow him for a few seconds, until the sound of another voice reminds him of the person who’s been watching the entire interaction quietly by his side.

“Dick, what the hell was that?! Are you insane?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Just trying to get under his skin”, Dick answers, turning to look at Wally, whose face has grown as white as the snow on the ground.

“By trying to get him to jump a freaking quad Axel?!”

“Walls, do you remember the first World Championship that you won?”, Dick responds to Wally’s question with a question of his own.

“In Saitama? Of course”, Wally answers, clearly unsure where Dick is going with this.

“Do you remember Valentin’s free skate?”, Dick inquires on.

“Kinda.”

“How did it go?”

Wally’s frowns, trying to remember his first Word title years ago.

“Hmm”, Wally begins, “he … fell on his opening quad Lutz.”

“Exactly”, Dick affirms him. “And then the entire rest of the programme derailed from him.”

Understanding dawns on Wally’s face, so Dick goes on.

“Every time Valentin begins with a mistake, he implodes. Every time. Without fail. He doesn’t have the mental skills to recover from a mistake. Either he knocks it out of the park, or he completely flops. And if he flops, he does so from the very beginning.”

Understanding turns into disbelief, as Wally’s eyes widen ever so slightly.

“You were coaxing him into attempting the quad Axel, so that he opens his free programme with a mistake?”

“YES!”, Dick exclaims, grabbing Wally’s arms to shake him back into reality. But then Dick remembers that they are in public, so he quickly lets go again and throws a glance over his shoulder to make sure that nobody noticed their gesture of intimacy. “Think about it, Walls", Dick starts in a strained low voice, trying to keep his excitement at bay. "Valentin’s the most arrogant skater in the world. Yet, we’ve never even seen him attempt the Axel. Not once. Not even on Instagram. And you know he would absolutely shove it into everybody’s face the second he landed it. No. We haven’t seen the Axel because he cannot do it." Dick pokes Wally's chest with his right index finger for extra emphasis. "Simple as that. But now that I’ve called him out on it, he will absolutely attempt it, just because of his overblown ego. And then he’s gonna bomb.”

Dick knows it in his heart of heart. The only way to beat Valentin Streltsov is to turn what looks like his greatest strength right now into the weakness that will cost him the victory: his overblown, easily offended ego.

Wally, however, looks far from convinced, and cautions doubtfully, “But what if he doesn’t, Dickie? Valentin’s already outjumping us to high heaven, as it is. I hate to admit but he’s right. He is beating us, even without the Axel. With the Axel added to his repertoire, it’s game over. For both of us.”

Dick looks Wally as deeply into his green eyes as he can, hoping to transfer some of the conviction that he feels about this onto his boyfriend.

“I know”, Dick finally says. “But trust me on this, okay? I know the kind of mentality that Valentin has. Partly because for a long time, I skated like that too. Especially with the Axel. One mistake and I was out of it.”

“What changed?”, Wally asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

A smile plays around Dick’s lips as he answers.

“Well, I met this really cute guy. Fluffy ginger hair. Freckles that are to die for. And now he’s even an Olympic medallist. You should meet him one day.”

Finally, Wally’s dimples rise upward into a smile.

“Sounds like a really great guy”, Wally comments playfully.

“Oh yeah, especially ‘cause he doesn’t even know how great he is”, Dick explains, reciprocating the affection in Wally’s voice.

“And you do?”

“Oh yeah”, Dick nods his head confidently. “Boy Wonder instinct. Never fails me.”

This makes Wally laugh out loud, and it’s the greatest sound that Dick may have ever heard.

“So I guess it’s your Boy Wonder instinct telling you that your Axel conspiracy will work out, too, huh?”

“Without a doubt”, Dick assures Wally, placing his hands on Wally’s shoulders.

Pondering for a moment, Wally then lays his hands on the smaller’s boy’s shoulders, as well.

“Then I’ll put my faith into your strategy, Boy Wonder”, Wally concludes with a hopeful smile.

“Wise choice, Flash”, Dick comments, his smile turning into a slightly more crooked grin. “This is Cold War. And when you grow up with Jason Todd and Tim Drake as your little brothers, you learn how to be a ruthless war strategist.”

"Hahaha", Wally laughs again, "in case I should ever forget, please remind me to NEVER get on your bad side, Dick Grayson".

"You never could, Wally West", Dick winks at him, before adding, "besides, you of all people should know that Boy Wonders don't have any bad angles."

With an indistinguishable mix of laugh and groan, Wally rolls his eyes and sighs, "You'll truly be the end of me."

"I sure hope not", Dick replies, all sweetness and innocence again, "because first we have some medals to win."

Chapter Text

“Our final skaters represent the United States of America. Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan!”

Dick screams as loudly as he can when Carol and Hal skate towards the centre of the rink, along with pretty much any other US athlete at the Olympics who’ve squeezed into the sold-out arena to cheer on the two ice dancers from Coast City – a welcome distraction of positivity for everyone after the drama of the team event. Wally and Roy, seated on either side of Dick, are screaming just as loudly, fully aware that the next performance could be a historic one.

This is the moment, the one that Carol and Hal – or simply #Harol, as their fans call them on social media – have been working towards for their entire lives. The chance to finally become Olympic ice dance champions.

Technically speaking, they already are Olympic champions, as part of the team event in Munich four years ago. Yet as with most skaters, it’s the individual gold medal that truly matters at the end of the day, and that is the one title that has been eluding them throughout their careers so far. They were on the cusp of victory last time, too – until twizzle mistakes in the free dance cost them dearly. Too dearly, as it turned, when they lost the all-but-assured gold medal by less than 0.5 points. So this is their chance to rewrite history and fulfil their dreams. Their final skate as competitive ice dancers, and potentially the most important one of them all.

Dick holds his breath as he watches Carol and Hal assume their opening poses: standing a couple of feet apart, with their backs turned towards each other. Ice dance is Dick’s favourite discipline in figure skating; while it does include technical requirements like the twizzles, it is first and foremost about musicality and artistry and arguably the most aesthetically pleasing skating event to watch at each Olympics. The other thousands of transfixed spectators in the building seem to agree: you could literally hear a pin drop on to the ice right now – the arena gets that quiet, awaiting the beginning of the final free dance of the night. After the short dance, Carol and Hall have a lead over hometown favourites Jade Nguyen and Thomas Black – Dick’s training mates in Gotham – of more than four points, which equals a whole entire universe in the world of ice dance where there are no jumps, throws, and twists. Still, if the events from four years ago are still engrained in Dick’s mind, he cannot imagine how bad it must be for the real-life couple on the ice right now.

In the moment of silence before the music begins, Dick has a chance to appreciate the gorgeous costumes of the two skaters. Carol wears a beautifully understated long black dress that flows over her legs and covers her slender arms, while Hal is dressed in matching black dress pants and a snug long sleeve that accentuates his imposingly athletic body. Both of their costumes are adorned by white rhine stones, sparkling almost like rain drops in a dark, stormy night – a choice that Dick knows must be on purpose, given the music that they are about to perform to.

Carol and Hal chose “Rain, in your black eyes” by Italian composer Ezio Bosso for their free skate. In many ways, the orchestral piece that only features a piano and strings is a modern- day equivalent to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata in that it is one of the most frequently used compositions in skating, to the point that for many it’s been used to death and become a cliché. But to Dick, that has never been a problem. It’s quite simply one of the most stunning pieces of instrumental music he has ever heard, heart-wrenchingly sad at the beginning and then awe-inspiring and triumphant in the way that it builds towards its climax at the end. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and not only did Carol and Hal not try to fix it; instead, they’ve managed to make the piece seem fresh again and completely their own. While Dick knows the music and routine almost by heart, this is the first time he’s seeing the free dance live in person, which makes the nerve-wrecking wait for the beginning of the programme even more thrilling.

Dick can feel his heart beat in his chest like crazy, when finally the first of three solitary opening notes echoes through the arena, sending instant shivers down Dick’s entire body. There’s just something to hearing gorgeous classical music in an arena setting, with the bass set to the max, that will never cease to amaze him.

The second note arises and Carol and Hal look over their shoulders to meet the other’s gaze, their facial expressions dramatic without being overly forced.

On the third note, they skate towards each other, their right arms reaching out to one another, before their bodies finally connect and the dance begins.

Even though the free dance doesn’t follow a particular narrative or story line, for Dick the theme has always been crystal clear ever since the first time he saw it on the Grand Prix circuit. To him, the programme is about two lovers who know that they have to say goodbye for good, knowing they will never see each other again. The sad music, the intense expressions on Carol and Hal’s faces, the almost funereal look of their costumes – it all fits together. The unbearable tension of not wanting to let go of the other but knowing that you have to – and that this moment will never come again.

The choreography expresses this tension in the most beautiful way, with Carol and Hal constantly being entangled in each other’s bodies as if they want to get as much out of the little time that the two lovers have left, one embrace more intricate and touching than the next.

Dick has had goose bumps every time he’s watched the programme on TV or on his computer, but witnessing it live is just that much more powerful. It’s only as a spectator in the arena that you realize with what power and speed Carol and Hal thunder across the ice, and yet with what ease and elegance they still maintain perfect control over their blades at all times.

A minute into the programme, the string accompaniment in the music begins to swell and the piano line rises in pitch, and Dick knows that the moment of truth is imminent. The twizzles, i.e. the rapid turns on one foot with several multi-directional rotations back to back. It is the make or break element in ice dance, the one that determines your fate more than any other move and that will separate the good from the great. Ice dance may not have any throw jumps, but if you mess up the twizzles, it’s game over for you, and this is exactly what happened to Carol and Hal four years ago. A stumble from Hal and then another one from Carol, and their dream of Olympic gold came crushing to the ground. Will they make it today?

The atmosphere in the arena is so tense, you could cut it with knife.

Dick holds his breath as Carol and Hal speed into the first set of five one-footed rotations, their hands outstretched for added difficulty and extra points.

They nail it!

A few choreographic steps during which they briefly touch and change directions to go into the next four rotations, this time raising one hand above their heads and grabbing the blades of their free legs with the other.

Another one nailed!

One more change of directions, and Carol and Hal transition into the third and final set of twizzles, both of their arms now raised above their heads as if they are ballet dancers on ice.

“YESSS!!!”, Dick cries out together with what sounds like everybody else in the arena when Carol and Hal exit the final set of twzizzles in perfect synchrony and without even the hint of a flaw. They’ve done it! They’ve nailed the twizzles! The thing that cost them gold four years ago! Now they just have to get through the rest of the programme cleanly. While that’s not necessarily a given – sometimes freak accidents do happen during other ice dance elements, too – the twizzles are by far the greatest risk of errors for any ice dance team, so bar any major disasters like a downright fall, the gold should be theirs. Still, Dick, his eyes already stinging with unshed tears, does not allow himself to breath, far too absorbed and captivated by what’s happening on the ice to let his hopes for Carol and Hal get the better of him

After about a minute and a half of the four-minute programme, the music comes to a halt and Carol and Hal perform a combination spin that ends with them kneeling in front of one another and touching the other’s cheeks with their left hands, as if they are each wiping away a tear rolling down their beloved’s face.

Suddenly, Dick’s breath hitches.

I’ve seen this gesture before!

A rainbow of bright and colourful sensations flashes before his eyes. The painted smile of a clown. The trumpeting call of Zitka the Elephant.

And from one moment to the next, Dick is no longer sitting in the Olympic Ice Arena in Montreal, but back in his bunk bed inside of the Graysons’ trailer at Haly’s Circus.

Hs mom is couching in a nearby chair, her eyes rimmed red from crying, and his dad is squatting in front of her, smiling at her consolingly and wiping away the tears on her cheeks with his fingers.

Just like Carol and Hal did right now on the ice.

Just like Dick’s parents always used to do to comfort each other.

Just like my parents always used to do to comfort me.

His parents – who were the same age when they died as Carol and Hal are right now.

Then the full realization hits Dick.

This free dance isn’t just about the tragic farewell of two lovers. No.

This is about my parents.

It may not be about them for Carol and Hal, or for anybody else on the planet watching the performance for that matter. But for Dick, watching the free dance live for the first time and seeing every nuance of the performance amidst the poignant beauty of the music, the sudden epiphany washes over him just as the swelling of tears quickly overpowers his eyes and a mighty sob rocks his captivated body.

The music picks back up again, the programme continues, and the memory of Dick’s dad consoling his mom is replaced by another image – the most painful one of Dick’s life, from that fateful night more than nine years ago.

Through Dick’s teary eyes, the dramatic expressions on Carol and Hal’s faces suddenly transform into the shocked faces of his parents the moment that the trapeze at Haly’s Circus snapped and the young parents knew they were falling to their deaths, with no safety net or hero to save them.

Now, though, watching Carol and Hal dance on the ice, the few seconds that changed Dick’s life forever become an achingly yet beautifully extended goodbye. Dick’s memory decelerates into slow motion, and he finally has a chance to perceive the moment in which his parents’ faces transition from despair to reciprocal understanding and lastly to all-encompassing, death-defying love with which they stare up to their screaming, eight-year-old son, all alone on top the high platform as he realizes that he will never be able to talk to his parents again.

Dick cannot unsee it. Carol and Hal’s gesture may have only been a minute part of their overall choreography, but it was enough to unlock something in Dick’s chest that the 17-year-old thought he’d locked away a long time ago.

With the lock to Dick’s memory broken open, the tears now flow and flow and flow down’s Dick’s cheeks and his sobbing grows worse and worse. Not since his parent’s funeral has he cried so openly about their deaths, and as the programme continues into its middle section, Dick begins to understand why the performance is affecting him so much.

This programme is the farewell that his parents never had. The farewell that Dick himself never had, either.

In all the years he’s been living with Bruce, there is one thing that Dick’s been wishing for more than anything in the world. The chance to speak to his parents on last time and to tell them how much he truly loves them. Dick could not be more thankful for the new family he has found. Bruce, Alfred, Jason, Tim, Talia, Damian – Dick loves them all more than he can ever say.

And yet, if only I could hug my parents just one more time and tell them how much I love and miss them!

One more chance to feel their hands in his soft hair, their soothing breaths on his skin, their heart beats in sync with his.

One more chance for the Flying Graysons to be together again.

And now, here they are. Mary and John Grayson, brought back to life for four minutes by Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan in the most moving performance of Dick’s life.

It’s almost too much, Dick despairs silently as his sobbing grows more intense, shaking his breathless body.

It is too much!

Just when Dick thinks he can no longer bear to watch, about two and half minutes into the programme, he feels the weight of another hand on his right, long fingers interlocking with his own. Turning his head to his right side, Wally’s emerald eyes gaze at him with the fiercest shine of compassion Dick has ever seen.

“I got you, Dickie”, Wally whispers, barely audible against the music and yet powerfully resonant.

Another sob breaks forth from Dick, but this one of gratitude rather than sadness, and Wally gently lays his arm around Dick’s back and guides his raven-haired head towards his own shoulder, where Dick lets his eyes falls closed for a brief moment of reprieve and exhaustion.

Holding onto Wally’s body like an anchor in the raging sea of tears, Dick forces his mind back to happier memories.

His first ride on top of Zitka.

The first time he successfully executed a quadruple summersault.

His parents surprising Dick with a card on his birthday promising him that they would try to give him a little sibling.

And all of a sudden, the images from Dick’s pasts turn into images that he knows will never come to be, but which fill him with love and gratitude all the same.

His entire family sitting around the dinner table at Wayne Manor, Wally on Dick’s right side, his mom on his left, chatting to Alfred on her other side and Talia about their favourite flavours of tea. His dad is sitting opposite Dick, making Jason and Tim giggle with one of his many stories about being a teenage rascal himself, while on his right, Wally is having a passionate discussion with Bruce, whose lap is occupied by a wide-eyed Damian, about the current season of the Gotham Knights.

Letting his eyes wander across the imaginary dinner table, Dick is no longer filled with sadness for the loved ones that he lost way too soon. Instead, he is overcome by thankfulness for the people he was blessed enough to meet and whose love and affection made him the young man that he is today. The young man who loves his family with every fibre of his being and who is just two days away from competing on Olympic ice.

Suddenly, the booming voice of his perpetually optimistic father rings through his ears.

You can take a Grayson out of his family, he once said when his son felt particularly homesick one day, but you can’t take family out of a Grayson.

Smiling through the last few tears, Dick opens his eyes just in time when the music moves into the final minute of the programme and Carol throws herself with wild, impassioned abandon into Hal’s arms as thunderous piano chords amp up the tension in the arena.

Hal spins Carol in a jaw-dropping dance lift that covers almost half the length of the rink and earns them spontaneous applause from the gobsmacked audience, before the two separate and begin their side-by-side choreographic step sequence. Each motion is in perfect unison with the music, translating the rising tension of the score into ever-intensifying arm movements and turns.

Dick is grabbing Wally’s hand as if his life depends on it, no longer drowning in re-emergent grief, but willing to throw his heart on the ice to make sure that Carol and Hal win the gold medal that they so desperately deserve.

Matching Dick’s accelerating heartbeat, the music grows ever faster and louder until finally a high-pitched violin line is added onto the orchestral soundscape. The music escalates into a frantic, overwhelming crescendo, and Carol and Hal give each other one final look that all but says ‘I love you’. Then Hal raises up his partner into a last, death-defying rotational lift. On cue with the music, they pull apart and throw themselves onto the ice, smashing onto their knees and leaning far back onto their legs, their heads raised up towards the ceiling of the arena and their hands still holding each other as if to say, If we have to go, we will go together.

United as one, until the very end. Defying death so that nothing will pull them apart.

Just like my parents.

The final chord of the music hasn’t even finished echoing through the arena by the time that Dick jumps to his feet and screams his lungs out, his voice once again quivery from the tears of happiness that are now streaming down his cheeks. The other spectators in the sold-out arena instantly join him to give Carol and Hal a standing ovation, their cheers so loud that Dick thinks the roof is about to collapse any moment now.

Carol and Hal need a moment to compose themselves before they rise to shaky feet and give each other a long and deeply felt hug that lets everybody watching in Montreal and at home know how much this moment meant to them.

Scores don’t even matter anymore. With a four-point lead, Carol and Hal only needed to avoid mistakes to win, and not only did they avoid mistakes; they just delivered the skate of a life time, not just for them personally, but for everybody watching, most of all Dick himself.

Inspired by the skaters on the ice, Dick suddenly cannot stop himself from turning to his right and wrapping Wally in the firmest hug he can manage. Wally starts in surprise, but soon closes his arms around Dick’s body, too.

With a shaky voice, Dick sobs into Wally’s shoulder, just loud enough for the ginger to hear him.

“Thank you, Wally. Thank you so much.”

With everybody’s attention directed towards the ice, Dick doubts that anybody will notice them hugging, and even if somebody does after all, Dick no longer cares.

Dick loves Wally. He has known so for a very long time. But the last four minutes have told him something else, too. Something just as important.

My parents would have loved Wally, too.

Both for who Wally is, and for the way that he cares about their son.

Mary and John Grayson would have received Wally West with open arms, and that thought alone makes Dick pull his own arms around his boyfriend just a little bit tighter.

His boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind, either. Instead, Wally strengthens his hold of Dick as well, kisses his raven hair and murmurs in response, “Any time, Dickiebird.”

***

Later that night, there is a reception at the Team USA house to celebrate #Harol’s record-breaking Olympic victory and of course all the figure skaters, including Dick, have gathered to pay homage. Thankfully, Dick’s emotions have calmed down again in the meantime since the free skate – down enough that he feels like he can go through this event without having to hold Wally’s hand for mental support the whole time. Still, that doesn’t stop him from giving the ginger his warmest, most affectionate and most grateful smile every time their eyes meet across the room. Which happens more than a few times.

So many times, in fact, that Harley Quinzel of all people calls him out on it when she appears out nowhere next to him, a glass of orange juice in her hands. The women’s free skate is tomorrow, and Harley is lying in fourth place after the short programme, but close enough to still have a shot at a medal.

“You and West seem awfully close considering that you are direct rivals.”

“OH!”, Dick starts, his face growing pale in surprise while a knowing smirk adorns Harley’s.

“Harley, s-sorry”, Dick begins to stammer, “I, uhm did not see you there.”

“Clearly”, Harley grins, “but then again, can I blame you when your eyes are all fixed on those gorgeously freckled cheeks from Keystone?”

Embarrassed heat is flashing rising up into Dick’s face.

“Uhm, I don’t know what you’re t-talking about”, Dick tries to deflect poorly. “Wally and I are just friends!”

“Sure you are”, Harley rolls her eyes. “As surely as I will hunt you down if I don’t get an invitation to your wedding in a few years’ time.”

“Harley!”, Dick exclaims.

“Listen, Dick,” she says in a more serious tone, stepping closer so that nobody else can hear them. “If you’re worried about me selling you out, I won’t. In fact, I think that you and Wally dating is the best thing that could have happened to figure skating in a long while. It’s high time that this crusty old sport arrives in the 21^st century, and that people realize that not all of us play it straight, okay?”

A pause, during which Dick marvels at Harley’s words. Then he grins and asks, “Us?”

Harley merely winks, drains her orange juice, and says, “Now, if you will excuse me, Boyfriend Wonder, I gotta go to bed to make sure I can claw my way onto the podium tomorrow.”

“Good night, Harley, and the best of luck tomorrow.”

“Good night, Robin”, Harley sings, giving Dick a quick peck on the cheeks and vanishing into the crowd.

Dick’s eyes are still following her, processing the interaction he’s just had with Harley, when a man’s voice behind his back calls out his name.

“Dick! So great to see you here!”

Turning around, Dick finds none other than tonight’s cause of celebration, Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan, walking towards him. They are dressed in their red, white and blue Team USA suits, decorated by the freshly awarded gold medals hanging around their necks.

Dick clears his throat, feeling his face blush a little at the sight of these two skaters who transformed him into a tearful wreck not too long ago, then he answers, “Of course! I wanted to congratulate you in person. And also thank you. Your free dance today really moved me. In a profound way that I didn’t know I needed. So thank you.”

The words are out before Dick can stop them, and he doesn’t know exactly why he is telling them about his emotional reaction to their free dance, but Carol and Hal don’t seem offended about it. In fact, Carol’s face lights up even more than before, if that’s even possible, and she replies, “Wow, that’s so kind of you to say. Although I think it’s actually us who have to thank you.”

“What? Why?”, Dick answers, taken aback.

“It was you who inspired us to dance to ‘Rain, in your black eyes’ for the free”, Hal explains in a fond smile.

Dick is still in disbelief. “How?”, is all he manages to say.

“Remember that interview you gave to Lois Lane last summer about the Olympic season?”, Carol begins. “You said that you had picked Moonlight Sonata for the free, even though it had been ‘done to death’ – your words. You also said that if you really love a piece and give it your all, then it doesn’t matter how many people have used it before. ‘It’s the passion that makes it yours.’ Well, at that time we were still unsure if ‘Rain’ would be the right pick for the Olympic free dance, just ‘cause it had been skated to so often in the past. But still, we loved the piece, and then your interview came out it was the last push we needed.”

Dick feels like the air has been punched out of his lungs. He does remember saying those things, but at the time he hadn’t given them much thought, a throw-away line more than anything. It had been his honest opinion, so why should he comment anything else?

I never thought anybody would listen to what I have to say, Dick marvels silently. Least of all icons like #Harol.

I never thought that I could make a difference!

It’s Carol’s voice which pulls Dick’s out of his thoughts and back into the here and now.

“To be honest, I’m not sure we would have picked ‘Rain’ if it hadn’t been for your comments in that interview, so in a way this gold medal is as much yours as it is ours.”

There goes Dick’s speechless blush again.

“Which I hope won’t stop you from going after your own gold medal this week”, Hal adds with a smirk. “How do feel about your event, by the way? The short is the day after tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, it is. The competition will be brutal. I could win or I could just as well not even make the podium. It’s that open. Valentin will be especially hard to beat, with the shape that he’s in it right now. But despite all that … I feel calm. Like I know that everything’s gonna be fine. No matter what happens. So I’ll just skate and enjoy my time on the ice, and then we’ll see.”

While Dick’s speaking these words, his eyes wander to the other end of the room, where Wally is currently chatting with veteran pair skaters Henry ‘Hank’ Hall and Dawn ‘Dove’ Granger. As if he can telepathically sense Dick’s gaze on him, Wally looks to the side to meet Dick’s eyes and smiles. Warmly and fondly. Like he did before the free skate at Nationals. And Dick knows in his heart that everything is going to be all right, no matter what happens on the ice this week. Because how could it not, when the person that Dick loves more than words can say smiles at him like that?

“That sounds like the healthiest mind set I’ve ever heard an Olympian have”, Carol comments, sounding genuinely impressed at the maturity of the 17-year-old Boy Wonder.

“Haha, yeah,”, Dick laughs bashfully, tearing his gaze away from Wally and back to Carol and Hal, “well, I’ve realized this season that I just want to be happy, and I love skating too much to have it be one of the reasons that make me unhappy. So whatever happens, will happen.”

“And whatever happens, we will be there to cheer you on”, Carol smiles fondly.

With a slightly more crooked grin than his partner, Hal Jordan leans down towards Dick and whispers into his ear, “You and your boyfriend.”

Before the shocked Boy Wonder can reply, the newly-crowned Olympic champion squeezes Dick’s shoulder and nods at him encouragingly, and Dick doesn’t need any words to know that his secret is safe with Carol and Hal, just like it is with Harley, and that his team mates will support him unconditionally. And as a queer teenage boy, that means even more to Dick right now that any medal ever could.

Chapter Text

“Jay, be careful not to break the sign!!”

“Then why don’t you carry it yourself, Timbers?”

“DIDI!!!”

Bruce Wayne momentarily closes his eyes and lets out a deep, exhausted sigh. He really should have known better than to assume that travelling to the Olympics with his three sons, let alone manoeuvring them into the Olympic Ice Arena, would be an easy job. Even with the valiant and indispensable assistance of Alfred and Talia by his side, the task is demanding every ounce of patience that the tall man has stored in his body. Running a billion-dollar empire is nothing compared to keeping three boys between ages one and 14 in line.

Luckily for Bruce, though, the ever-composed British accent of Alfred Pennyworth sounds in his ears that very moment.

“Here we are, these are our seats. Gentlemen, why don’t you sit?”

Bruce has long been convinced that Alfred must possess some kind of superpower, and this is yet another proof of it. Because how else could he possible manage to bring two bickering brothers to sit down without any protest whatsoever? It’s definitely an accomplishment that Bruce himself has yet to achieve.

The butler takes the furthest seat at the end of the front line of block G7, followed by Tim and Jason, then Bruce, and finally Talia with Damian in her lap. The view onto the ice rink below is spectacular, just a few meters away from the panel of judges. This close to the ice, Dick might actually be able to catch of glimpse of them during the warm-up. A glimpse that will hopefully give him the confidence he needs to nail the short programme.

It’s the very least that my boy deserves, Bruce thinks, a strange blend of nerves and fondness rising in his chest.

The arena is already packed to the rafters. The ice is currently being resurfaced for the final two group of skaters. Normally, when Bruce attends one of Dick’s competitions, he tries to watch all the skaters from beginning to end, even the also-rans early on who everybody knows will have no shot at a medal. But to Bruce, it’s a sign of respect to the athletes, who all deserve the support of the audience equally. Any competition can be just as meaningful to a newbie competitor as to an experienced veteran, perhaps even more so. And an also-ran today could be a superstar in just a few years.

This time, however, that was simply not feasible. Sitting through two groups of skaters with a toddler to take care of is already a Herculean feat. Five groups would be downright impossible.

Bruce just hopes that the Olympic gods will forgive him and not take it out on his son…

“How do you think he is doing?”, Talia’s gentle voice next to him catches his attention.

“Dunno”, Bruce answers truthfully, looking at the serene smile of his wife. “This morning he seemed fine. Victor and Selina told me so too. His last run-through was clean. It’s just …”

Bruce’s voice drifts off, lost in thought.

“Just what?”, Talia inquires.

“I want to protect him, Talia”, Bruce responds, his voice suddenly raspy and a heavy lump gathering in his throat. “Dick’s gone through so much in his life and this here means the world to him. I just want things to go well for him and for him to be happy at the end of the day, but I feel so helpless and useless, just sitting here and watching. Like a civilian watching a superhero fight the bad guy. There’s nothing I can do to help him and that sucks.”

Bruce has been feeling pretty gloomy all day, but it’s only now, saying these words out loud to Talia, that he understands the reason. Dick is about to face the greatest challenge of life, and he has to do it by himself. There’s nothing that Bruce can do to help him, and that fact is killing him.

Sure, he has plenty of experience, accompanying Dick to competitions or watching on TV as his son does what he does best.

But this is different. Not only is Dick’s Olympic fate about to be decided over the next couple of days. It’s also an undeniable sign of Dick growing up. His 18^th birthday is merely a month away, and it’s only now that this realization fully hits Bruce.

His Chum, the first boy he ever took in and gave a home to, is turning into a grown man in front of his very eyes. And it makes Bruce both happy and sad, all at once.

“You’re not doing nothing”, Talia reassures him, squeezing his right hand with her left one. “You’re being here, cheering him on and sending positive energy into the arena. Dick will feel that. And I have no doubt that it will make Robin soar even higher than before.”

“I hope you’re right”, Bruce replies, though neither his attempt at a smile nor the tone in his voice seem all that convincing.

Talia’s smile grows a little cheekier then as her eyes dart to the black-haired bundle of energy in her lap.

“Don’t listen to me. Listen to him. Right, my darling?”, she nudges her son, earning a prompt reaction,

“DIDI!!”, Damian exclaims excitedly, his tiny hands reaching up in the air.

Bruce cannot help but laugh at the sight.

“Well, it’s settled then”, he decides. “Didi for the win.”

Suddenly, the voice of the arena announcer wakes up the crowd.

“Let’s welcome our next group of skaters to the ice!”

Bruce didn’t even notice the ice surfacing machines leaving the rink, but as he looks down, the pristine white field is perfectly empty. Then, six young men at the far end of the boards skate onto the ice, earning loud cheers from the excited audience.

As the skaters line up on the ice to be announced to the spectators watching in the arena and around the world, the first athlete in line, a strikingly handsome guy with blond hair, dressed in black suit paints and a tight-fitting white dress shirt, immediately grabs Bruce’s attention.

“From the Russian Federation, Valentin Streltsov!”

“Why is he on this early?”, Bruce blurts out loud, a confused frown on his face.

“World ranking”, Jason answers instantly, like it’s the most obvious ‘well duh’ thing in the world.

“What?”, comes Bruce’s very eloquent reply, looking at his second-oldest son next to him for answers.

Jason rolls his eyes in annoyance like he’s Hermione Granger urging Harry and Ron to read, before he finally deigns to treat his dad with an answer,

“Basically, in figure skating you earn world ranking points for every international competition you enter, not just for the actual results. So the more you compete, the higher you will be in the ranking, and the ranking then determines the draw for the Olympics. Streltsov only did one international event all season, and even though he won that one, that’s not enough to be drawn into the final group at the Olympics. Him even going first in his group is just added bonus.”

“Hmm”, Bruce hums thoughtfully, memories of Dick’s very first junior competitions flooding back into his head.

One of the first things that Selina and Victor Fries taught him during those events was that having to perform early in a figure skating competition is never a good thing. Apparently, judges tend to hold back their top scores until the final group of skaters, regardless of the actual quality on the ice. This makes it so difficult for newcomers who are forced to perform early to actually break through. You have to perform early because you haven’t built up your reputation and your ranking points yet – but how can you build up your reputation if the judges won’t score you fairly, just because you’re not running in the later groups?

It means that you need to be an exceptional talent like Dick in order to break through that vicious paradoxical cycle.

It also means that if for whatever reason you get an early position in the starting order, that position – and the programme component scores that it might cost you – might just make or break your hopes for Olympic gold.

Bruce isn’t delusional enough not to know that this will change in the free skate tomorrow. Streltsov will definitely be in the final group for the deciding part of the event tomorrow, despite his spot in the running order today. Plus, if the team event was any indication, the general favouritism towards Russia – despite a more neutral panel today, at least in terms of nations – will likely make up for any points lost due to the running order…

And yet…, Bruce muses quietly, I will grasp at any little straw I might find if it means that Dick, who’s the penultimate skater in the final group, can win gold and send this homophobic bigot back where he belongs…

Once all the skaters have been introduced, the six-minute warm-up begins and the announcer starts reading out the resumé of each competitor currently on the ice in the order of their performances. This means that Valentin Streltsov’s credits are announced first.

“He is a former World and Grand Prix Final champion and a two-time European Champion. After an absence from the sport for over two years due to injuries, he returned to competitive ice in December to win his third National title, and in last week’s Olympic team event, he already set new World records in both the short and the free programme to win gold. Representing the Russian Federation, VALENTIN STRELTSOV!”

Bruce stomach turns as he listens to Streltsov’s credit and watches him practice one effortless quadruple jump after another. You don’t need to be an expert to acknowledge that Streltsov is light-years ahead of any other skater currently on the ice, not just in technical aspects like speed or height, but in general showmanship. Valentin Streltsov skates with an attitude like he owns the place, and considering that he just set new World records only a few days ago, he admittedly does.

Feeling his pulse quicken as he watches Streltsov warm up, Bruce takes several deep breaths to calm himself down. He hates to be the kind of father who wishes bad luck on his son’s competitors, but right now he cannot help but hope for Streltsov to fall during his short programme. Because the way he’s skating right now, that might actually be the only way for somebody to beat him, even for Dick.

In no time, the warm-up is over, and all skaters except Streltsov leave the ice. The Russian then skates to the middle of the rink while the announcer calls out his name to much applause and he assumes his opening pose. A few seconds later, the triumphant opening notes of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 echo through the arena, and he’s off.

In spite of his paternal biases, Bruce cannot deny that Streltsov is incredible. Not only does he deliver a perfect technical performance, nailing every jump flawlessly, but he also embodies the sweeping elegance of the music with surprising and utterly convincing ease, considering his reputation as a rugged bad boy.

F*ck it, Bruce curses silently as Streltsov finishes his final jumping sequence, he’s knocking it out of the park, just like he did in the team event…

…When he beat Wally…

Bruce clenches his teeth and balls his fists at the memory.

Wally was objectively the better skater that day – Bruce has no doubt about it – and yet the judges still put Streltsov ahead of him. If they do the same thing to Dick, who’s never gone head-to-head with Streltsov before, the IOC will need a whole army of superheroes to stop Bruce from burning Montreal to the ground.

When the final chords of Piano Concerto No. 1 arise, so does the audience, standing to their feet to give Streltsov the ovation that even Bruce must begrudgingly admit he deserves. The billionaire, who’s standing too, would not be surprised if somebody in the crowd has spotted him and has their camera pointed on him, and he’d hate for any sour loser-dad Bruce Wayne photos to go viral and reflect back on Dick’s reputation.

Tim and Jason, however, remain seated and scowling, their arms pointedly crossed over their chest. Meanwhile, Alfred has stood up, but he is clapping his hands with a lack of enthusiasm that would give Albus Dumbledore’s infamous clapping in the first Harry Potter film a run for his money. Even Talia, who’s typically the most diplomatic and open-minded one of them all, is bearing the fakest smile Bruce has seen on her face in a long time, and he cannot help but grin at it.

No amount of political correctness can squash family allegiance in the Wayne household, Bruce muses in silent pride.

An expectant hush falls over the arena when Streltsov reaches the Kiss & Cry and sits down with his coach and an official from the Russian delegation on either side of him to receive his points. Judging by the smug smirk on his face, Streltsov seems utterly convinced that another new World record score is imminent.

Then the voice of the announcer comes through the sound system in the arena, and Bruce’s stomach plummets at her words.

“Valentin Streltsov from Russia has earned in the short programme 114.12 points. He is currently in first place.”

The audience applauds appreciatively, but Streltsov’s enlarged face on the jumbotron instantly turns from a smug grin into a confused and then angry scowl.

“What’s wrong with him?”, Bruce asks in Jason’s direction, whose eyes have just lit up with devious glee. “That’s a huge score, isn’t”

“But not as huge as his World record from the team event”, Jason retorts with the grin worthy of a super villain. “0.3 points smaller, to be exact. That bastard probably thought that the judges would inflate his score even more than they already did last week, but the judges apparently said ‘Not today’.”

Bruce is still unconvinced, and goes on, “But then this is still the second-highest score ever awarded in a men’s short programme, right? Higher than anything Dick or Wally ever received?”

Jason’s villainous smirk remains unwavering. “Yeah, but that’s not the point here. The point is that things did not go according to plan for Streltsov. The plan was for him to skate just as well as he did in the team event, which he admittedly did, but then to receive an even bigger score for that than last week, when he was already overscored. Well, he did skate clean, but the judges did not push him to a new World record as he clearly thought that they would. And that in itself must be encouraging to Dick and Wally.”

Bruce smiles a little at Jason’s mention of Wally’s name. In just two weeks, his second-eldest son has come a long way from fearing that Wally would take Dick away from him, to viciously attacking anyone who as much as utters the faintest critique of his big brother’s secret boyfriend. And remembering the impact that running order often has on figure skating judges, Bruce starts to think that Jason might be on to something.

The judges could have easily given Streltsov a new World record if they wanted to, he surmises, but they chose not to. And deliberately at that, looking at how close the score is. So maybe they really are holding back their top marks for the final group…

The final group that includes Dick and Wally…

Maybe Streltsov’s not invincible after all…

Even though Streltsov’s score fell short of his very own World record, it’s still more than enough to decimate the other skaters in the penultimate group. None of them come anywhere close to what the Russian Bad Boy just delivered, neither Victor Stone, the other US man beside Dick and Wally, who has the unfortunate job of having to go right after Streltsov, nor hometown favourite Jean-Paul Valley, who skates last but falls on his opening quad jump much to the audience’s disappointment.

By the time the penultimate group is done, Streltsov is still in the lead by almost 20 points, as if he cursed the ice for all the following skaters with the impressive bench mark that he set.

Yet, Bruce has no time to ruminate about how that curse can be broken, because as soon as Valley’s points have been announced, the final group of skaters is led onto the ice, and Bruce’s heart skips a beat.

There he is. My boy. My beautiful beloved darling boy.

Dick is shining bright as he glides onto the ice, second-last in the line of skaters that will close off the short programme. The green and yellow rhinestones on his shirt, which is made out of red, see-through mesh, sparkle colourfully and proudly, paired with the red trousers, the Flying Graysons uniform having come to new and exciting life again. Of course, Bruce has seen this costume many times over the past year, but today it appears to be shining more spectacularly than ever before. The only thing outshining it right now is the bright and undaunted grin on Dick’s excited face, and the sight of it does absolutely not begin to make Bruce’s eyes sting. Definitely not, thank you very much.

Bruce has to force his totally non-watery eyes away from his son to acknowledge the other skaters as they are introduced to the audience. Wally will be going first, waving at the enthusiastic crowd at the far end of the line. He’s followed by Tanaka Rei from Japan, who won silver four years ago, Andre Blanc-Dumont from France, who Bruce knows is Dick’s favourite (besides Wally, of course), and Japan’s defending Olympic champion Jiro Osamu. Then, as the penultimate skater, it’s Dick’s turn.

“From the United States of America, RICHARD GRAYSON!”

In unison, the entire Wayne family screams at the top of their lungs, but much to Bruce’s surprise it’s not just them, far from it, in fact. As a visibly happy Dick waves at the audience, he receives the loudest cheer by far out of anybody in his group from the arena, even including Korea’s Four Continents champion Connor Hawke who’s skating last.

As soon as the skaters begin to warm-up, Bruce’s eyes instantly zoom back to his son, who seems to be completely focussed, more focussed in fact that Bruce may have seen him before, not just this season, but ever. Bruce’s attention is only distracted when the arena announcer reads out Wally’s credits.

“He is a two-time World champion who won his third Grand Prix Final and third National Championship title this season. In last week’s Olympic team event, he scored a season’s best in the short programme to win a silver medal overall. Representing the United States of America, WALLACE WEST!”

Bruce cheers and claps loudly, although he’s still holding a grudge at the fact that Wally, and with him the entire Team USA, was cheated out of a well-deserved gold medal. Yet based on Wally’s trademark carefree grin as he waves at the audience, he’s put the events of last week in the past and is now completely zeroed in on the present moment.

As is Dick, to whom Bruce’s gaze instantly returns, completely ignoring the announcements of the others skaters. Dick executes a few easy jumps and earns spontaneous audience applause for a textbook triple Axel that looks completely effortless, but otherwise he seems to take things easy, focussing more on getting a feel for the ice and his bending his knees as deeply as he can. At last, it’s time for Dick’s resumé to be announced and once more Bruce’s heart skips a beat.

“He is a two-time Junior World champion and a three-time Junior National champion who placed second at the Four Continents Championship this season. At the Stockholm World Championships last year, he became the first jumper in history to land a quadruple Axel in competition and won gold. Representing the United States of America, RICHARD GRAYSON”

Once more, the entire Wayne family scream as loud as they can, Tim and Jason holding up their large sign that reads ‘ROBIN FOR GOLD’ and Damian gesturing wildly in the direction of the jumbotron that’s currently showing Dick’s happy smile.

Dick seems so relaxed, it’s almost like he’s about to perform in an exhibition, rather than in the most important competition of his life, and Bruce feels like his chest is about to burst with paternal pride. He’s never been one of those dads to push their children into a career in the spotlight. If anything, Bruce used to be the cautionary voice in the family who wanted to wrap up his first son in a protective blanket and never let him go again. The first few years at school were tough for Dick, with him being a Romani orphan who’d been raised in the circus and then got adopted by one of the richest men in the planet. There’s been so much malice coming Dick’s way, even before he decided to become a competitive figure skater. And yet here he is, putting himself on display to be judged on the biggest athletic stage in the world, and yet unlike all previous competitions this season, he seems unfazed by it. On the contrary, Dick appears to be enjoying and embracing the moment.

How far you’ve come, Chum, Bruce wants to say to him, and he makes a silent vow that he will say so after the event, regardless of how it goes…

After another couple of minutes, the warm-up is over and all skaters except Wally leave the ice. The ginger earns a massive cheer as he’s announced, most of all from the Wayne family and from the other US skaters sitting close-by, and skates to the centre of the ice, his black and green costume setting a striking contrast to his fiery hair.

The dark, atmospheric electronica of his short programme music begins, and Wally starts his routine. Despite Wally’s great performance in the team event, the programme still brings back memories in Bruce’s head of Wally’s disastrous implosion at US Nationals. Yet all thoughts of that performance are cleared from Bruce’s head when Wally lands a perfect quad Lutz triple toe loop combination to open the programme which earns him a huge cheer from the crowd. His second jumping element, a huge quad flip, goes flawlessly as well, and when Wally finally nails his last element, a triple Axel, too, Bruce cannot stop himself from shouting “YES!” alongside Jason on his left.

Wally is ON today, Bruce marvels silently.

Wally’s skating even faster, bigger and more aggressively than ever before, as if the result in the team event has unleashed a fire in him to become an ever more energetic skater than he ever was.

When the programme finishes, the entire arena instantly jumps to their feet and Wally bumps a victorious fist in the air.

“This HAS to be enough!”, Jason exclaims emphatically once he’s stopped screaming for his big brother’s boyfriend, and Bruce’s murmurs, “Let’s hope so”, feeling more sceptical than he’d care to admit.

Wally and his coach Barry Allen, at the very least, seem ecstatic when the ginger steps off the ice and the two cross over to the Kiss & Cry. Meanwhile, the jumbotron is recapping some of Wally’s elements in slow-motion, proving that this may well have been the best short programme of Wally’s whole career.

But then again, didn’t we say that about his short in the team event, too?

“The scores, please.”

Bruce holds his breath.

A moment of silence. Then –

“Wallace West from the United States of America has earned in the short programme 114.23 points, which is a new personal best. He is currently in first place.”

In the Kiss & Cry, Wally and Barry jump to their feet, and so too do Bruce, Tim, and Jason.

“He’s done it!”, Jason shouts ecstatically, “he’s actually done it!”

Wally West has beaten Valentin Streltsov in the short programme at the Olympics! Justice has been served. Mind you, it was by the thinnest of margins. No more than 0.11 points separate the two skaters. But this time, it’s the better of the two skaters who actually came out ahead, and rightfully so.

“Wait!”, Tim’s giddy voice breaks through the waves of cheers still running across the stands. “Did Wally just set a new World record?”

The prompt answer comes from Jason. “Oh my God, yes, you’re right, Timmy, he did! Streltsov got 114.15 in the team event. This IS a new World record! GO WALLY!!!”

May wonders never cease, Bruce marvels in silent amazement.

“GO WALLY!!!”, Tim joins his brother in cheering.

Bruce would pay very good money to have a camera backstage on Valentin Streltsov’s face right about now…

After Wally’s World record, the next three skaters pass Bruce by in a blurry face. He barely can focus on their performances and scores, his mind constantly drifting off to imagine what Dick must be doing and feeling that very moment. If Bruce’s heart beat is accelerating with every minute they get closer to Dick’s skate, then what in the hell must his son be going through right now?

A completely new kind of respect for Dick’s mental strength rises up in Bruce at the thought.

The skaters between Wally and Dick, meanwhile, deliver mixed results. Japan’s Tanaka Rei, silver medallist in Munich four years ago, sadly implodes in an error-ridden short programme to ‘Boom Boom Pow’ by the Black Eyed Peas that will struggle to even get him into the penultimate warm-up group for the free skate tomorrow. France’s Andre Blanc-Dumont, on the other hand, delivers a gorgeous free programme to Erik Satie’s Trois Gnossiennes. Dick, who’s been a huge fan of his for years, once told Bruce that Blanc-Dumont is known for being less technically gifted than he is artistically. Today, though, none of these technical weaknesses come through in his performance, which earns him a personal best of 103.21 points. That’s still over 10 points behind the top two, but as only the third skater to score over 100 points, he might be a surprising contender for the podium tomorrow, and a more than deserving one too, in Bruce’s eyes.

Lastly, right before Dick, it’s the turn of defending Olympic champion Jiro Osamu. Performing a very sophisticated and elegant programme to Schubert’s Impromptus, Osamu definitely does better than his Japanese team mate, but does not quite match the wow moment that Andre Blanc-Dumont created just before him. Thus, Osamu scores more than 100 points, but falls behind the Frenchman at 101.87 points, something that the Japanese skater is clearly unhappy with, judging by the disappointed expression on his face.

Not that Bruce has any capacity to notice these things, because as soon as Osamu walks off the ice, Bruce’s eyes become glued onto the raven-haired boy who just stepped onto it.

This is happening, he thinks breathlessly, this is really happening. Dick’s about to compete at the OIympics. Instinctively, Bruce’s right hand reaches for Talia, while his left one goes for Jason. Bruce is not a very spiritual person. Still, if the only thing they can do right now to support Dick is to channel as much positive energy towards him as they possibly can, then they sure as hell will send their boy enough energy to fill up an entire multiverse.

While the recap of Osamu’s programme is still playing, Dick is calmly skating round the rink and comes close to their seats, at which point an excited Damian calls out “DiDi!”. Much to Bruce’s surprise, Dick actually hears it and looks up towards their seats, an unexpectant smile on his face. Bruce’s and Dick’s eyes only meet for less than a second, but it’s enough for them to nod at each other and transfer some of Dick’s apparent confidence into his father.

Everything’s gonna be alright, Bruce concludes, taking in the serene expression on his son’s face, he just knows it.

Once Osamu’s scores have been announced, it’s time.

“Our next skater represents the United States of America. RICHARD GRAYSON!”

“COME ON, CHUM, KNOCK ‘EM DEAD!!!!!!!”

Bruce’s body feels like it’s about to explode. Excitement, anticipation, anxiety, nervousness, stress, happiness, pride – it all blends into one huge, all-encompassing volcano of emotion that he has never felt before. It’s all come down to this one moment. The moment that Dick has worked towards for more than half his life.

My little Robin is about to soar across the ice.

In the quiet of the arena when Dick assumes his opening pose, Bruce’s heart is thumping so loudly that he thinks the entire arena must be able to hear it.

The irresistible bass line of Silver Convention’s ‘Fly Robin Fly’ kicks in, and immediately the entire arena, Bruce included, throw skating etiquette out of the window and begin clapping along to the beat. The programme hasn’t even started, and the audience is already putty in Dick’s hand. And what’s best: Dick knows it too, starting to shake his hips playfully and throwing a cheeky wink over his shoulder at the judges, in full-on unadulterated Boy Wonder mode.

As the beat takes over the music, Dick starts gathering speed, preparing for his opening combination. On cue with the first “Fly” in the song, he takes off into the quad Lutz, and Bruce’s heart surely must have jumped out of his body and right there onto the ice with Dick – because what other explanation can there be for the out-of-body experience he’s having right now?

In the blink of an eye, Dicks adds a triple toe loop. “YESSS!!!!”, Bruce screams shamelessly when Dick lands the second part of the combination just as perfectly as the first one. The second quad jump, the loop, comes next, and once again Dick nails it.

He’s doing it, he’s really doing it!, Bruce mind races in wordless ecstasy. Only one more jump!

The triple Axel is last. For somebody who’s capable of jumping a freaking quadruble Axel, Bruce shouldn’t be nearly as nervous as he is right now about Dick’s capacity to jump a triple. Still, Bruce once more holds his breath when Dick kicks off into the air – only to let out a primal scream of relief when Dick effortlessly lands on his right skate, its blade cutting through the ice like butter.

Even though he’s been serving face from the very first second of his programme, it’s after the triple Axel, in the knowledge that he’s nailed all three jumping passes, when the speed of Barbara’s genius music edit picks up that Dick the Circus Kid™ takes centre stage. Y’all want a show?, his cheeky grin seems to say as he moves into his one-in-a-million step sequence. I’m gonna give y’all a show.

When the ever-intensifying remix reaches its final crescendo and Dick’s spins his lithe body around faster than any other skater before him, the audience is so frantic that they can barely keep to their seats any more. Finally, the music ends, Dick throws his arms out like the wings of a bird, and there is no holding back anymore.

Bruce jumps to his feet, as do Talia and Damian next him. Jason and Tim are bouncing up and down as if they are drunk of gummi bear juice while also trying to hold up their ‘ROBIN FOR GOLD’ sign above their head. Even Alfred is on his feet and clapping his hands faster than Bruce has ever seen them move before.

Collectively, their voices are one large, indeterminate scream of euphoria that will definitely take its toll on their vocal chords tomorrow morning.

But looking at the relieved grin on Dick’s face as he’s bowing happily to the four sides of the arena which is showering the ice with stuffed elephants, Bruce could not care less. Dick’s made it. He’s actually made it. He’s gone on to the ice and delivered the best short programme of his life. Gone are in the insecurities and hesitations that still held him back at Four Continents. This is the kind of Dick Grayson who simply knows that he’s the best and who’s going to prove it to you, come what may.

After Dick is done bowing to the arena, he once again turns to their section and meets Bruce’s gaze. He doesn’t need to be a detective to interpret the words that his son just mouthed in his direction.

I love you.

“Love you, too, Chum”, Bruce mumbles under his breath, as a few stray tears finally roll down his cheeks and his son picks up an elephant dressed in the colours of the Romani flag.

At the boards, Dick is greeted by Selina Kyle and Mr Fries, who both look like they stole some of his sons’ gummi bear juice, judging from how giddily they are bouncing once they throw their arms around Dick. The giddiness does not stop on the way to the Kiss & Cry nor during the recap of Dick’s programme.

In Bruce’s chest, though, nerves flare up again during the recap, remembering that Dick’s score will be announced in just a few seconds. Sure, Dick skated flawlessly and if the audience was judging, it would be a landslide victory for Dick. But Wally and Valentin were perfect too. What if the judges think that Dick’s still so young and that he can come back and win gold in four years, and therefore keep his score low just because of that?

Instinctively, Bruce reaches for Talia’s and Jason’s hands again, which are just as sweaty as his despite the cold air inside the arena, as the voice of the announcer brings a tense quiet over the crowd.

“The scores, please.”

Never in his life could Bruce Wayne have imagined that a single second might feel as long – no, as infinite – as the one that follows the announcer’s sentence. It’s the worst wait he has ever experienced.

Then the voice comes back.

“Richard Grayson from the United States of America has earned in the short programme 114.65 points, which is a new personal best. He is currently in first place.”

It’s the screams from Jason and Tim that Bruce perceives first, far too shell-shocked to notice anything else around him. Next, his eyes suddenly go very blurry and the image of Dick, Selina and Victor hugging each other on the jumbotron is washed away by a fresh wave of tears.

“He’s …first…”, Bruce whispers disbelievingly, “….Dick’s first.”

“Not just first”, the still-bouncing Jason next to him explains jubilantly, “Dickie just set a new World record!!! At the freaking Olympics!!!”

Bruce needs what feels to him like forever to process Jason’s words. At long last, however, an almighty sob shakes his upper body, and he buries his face in his hands, barely registering Talia wrap her left arm around him.

Only now, as endless tears of happiness flow down his face, does Bruce realize how much shared pressure has been laying on his shoulders in recent weeks. Not because he wanted to bask in the glory of Dick’s success and take credit for it, but because he simply wants his son to be happy and fulfil his life-long dream. And now, it looks like this might actually be happening.

By the time Bruce has calmed down and looks up again, Dick has already returned backstage and the final skater, Connor Hawke from Korea, has taken to the ice. Bruce suddenly feels very conflicted, watching the 16-year-old assume his opening pose. On the one hand, he really does not want anyone to get in-between Dick and the Olympic medal, now that he’s so unbelievably close to it. On the other hand, Connor seems like a really nice boy, from what Dick has told about him after Four Continents, and completely deserving of all the success that has been coming his way all season.

…As long as his success doesn’t take away from Dick’s success…

Connor did beat Dick in the short programme at Four Continents, although Dick was far from his best that day. Plus, Connor’s personal best in the short still lags more than 10 points behind what Dick just delivered. Still, who’s to say that Connor might not deliver another all-time skate just like Dick?

Connor starts off his short programme to Mission Impossible expectantly strong with the same quad combo that Dick and Wally also showed. From there on, his routine is excitingly and expertly performed, yet Bruce cannot help but like the performance, despite its iconic music, is somewhat of a let-down after Dick. Granted, most things would be, considering the galactic response to Dick’s performance. Still, if any performance is going to take away Dick’s gold medal, Bruce has a sneaky suspicion that it’s not going to be this one.

And he shall be proven correct.

“Connor Hawke from the Republic of Korea has earned in the short programme 107.34 points, which is a new personal best. He is currently in fourth place.”

Bruce exhales a deep breath of relief that he did not know he was holding in when Hawke’s points are announced. A personal best, but not good enough to threaten the top three.

“This concludes the men’s short programme. The competition continues tomorrow at 6pm with the men’s free skate.”

Letting his head rest against his seat for a moment, Bruce briefly closes his eyes. Although he’s been in the arena less than two hours in total, Bruce feels like he’s aged several years in that time. And yet, he will gladly do it all again tomorrow if it means that Dick’s dream will come true.

***

“OOMPPFH”, Dick groans, when first Tim’s tiny body and then the slightly larger Jason barrel into their older brother and wrap their arms around him. An appreciative smile quickly lights up Dick’s face and he returns the gesture.

“DIDI!!!”

Of course Damian wants to join the fun too and eagerly climbs from Talia’s arms into Dick’s, accompanied by a kiss of Dick’s head from Talia.

“Easy there, boys”, Bruce cautions them gently, “Your brother still has a gold medal to win tomorrow.”

They are currently back stage in the Olympic Ice Arena to congratulate Dick who just finished the press conference and is still wearing his Robin-coloured short programme costume, covered by his Team USA jacket.

“Haha, all good, Dad”, Dick laughs fondly, ruffling his three brothers’ hairs one by one. “Who am I to say no to a good Robin group hug?”

“Well, speaking of hugs”, Bruce continues and on cue Dick loosens his hold of Tim and Jason and hands Damian back to Talia to be wrapped up in the massive protective arms of his father. “Well done, Chum. How far you’ve come”, Bruce says into the raven nest that is Dick’s mob of hair. “I’m so freaking proud of you.”

Dick says nothing, but merely tightens his arms around Bruce’s torso, which is all the answer he needs right now.

Clearing her throat as if to lighten the emotional mood, Talia comments cheekily, “Yes, so proud of you, indeed, that your father shed genuine tears, of which I may or may not have snapped a little shot when he wasn’t looking.”

Bruce raises a mock-offended eye brow and shoots back, “So that’s what I get for bringing along the whole band, huh? Treason?”

“No, Sir”, Alfred interjects and in typically composed deadpan. “That is what you get for so rarely letting out your emotions like a Homo Sapiens so that we have to document it when you do let them out.” Then, having caused a sufficiently embarrassed blush on Bruce’s face, Alfred turns to Dick and speaks, “Luckily, this young Master has no problem with that. Congratulations, Master Richard.” Alfred gives Dick a gentle but nonetheless empathetic hug, which Dick returns appreciatively.

“Thank you, Alfred”, Dick finally says, genuine gratitude in his voice. “Thank all of you, for being here. It really made such a huge difference.”

That very moment, a broadly smiling Selina Kyle, followed by an usually cheerful Victor Fries, who looks to be in better health than in a while, turn the corner in the hallway, prompting Bruce to remark, “Well, I hope that there will be no difference in the results tomorrow, either.” In the direction of Dick’s coaches, he adds, “What’s your plan for our Boy Wonder?”

“Sleep and rest”, Victor Fries answers authoritatively. “Today couldn’t have gone better, but I doubt that Streltsov is giving up without a fight. It’s still way too close to call.”

“But what about the pairs’ free skate tonight?”, Dick suddenly exclaims. “Kory and Roy could still medal tonight!”

Bruce has completely forgotten that there is still another event happening tonight, even though he did watch the pairs’ short programme live in the arena yesterday. Kory and Roy delivered another flawless short programme, just like they did in the team event. Unfortunately for them, so did the Chinese pair and the top two pairs from Russia too, unlike the team event, so that Kory and Roy, whose technical content is slightly below that of their competitors, only ended up in fourth place. Nonetheless, the point margins are so small that anything could still happen.

“Dick”, Selina reminds him friendly but firmly, “the free skate won’t be over before 10, and you need to be on the practice ice again tomorrow morning at 7. Sometimes, your own needs take priority over the needs of others.”

Seeing the disappointed expression on his son’s face, Bruce adds, “Plus, Roy Harper and you are such good friends that I doubt he will be mad if you’re not in the arena tonight. He knows exactly how important it is to rest your body the night before an important competition. Nowhere more so than at the Olympics.”

“I know”, Dick sighs, “I just want to be a good friend to him, that’s all.”

“Trust me, kiddo”, Victor Fries chuckles, stepping forward to place a large hand on Dick’s shoulder. “The best thing you can do for him right now is to get back to the hotel, win that gold medal tomorrow and make Roy the proudest big skating bro the world has ever seen.”

A smile reappears on Dick’s face, who now chuckles himself and says, “Sounds like a plan”.

Chapter Text

FIGURE SKATING: THREE-WAY RACE FOR MEN’S GOLD MEDAL IS HEATING UP

 

By Vicki Vale

 

If today’s historic men’s short programme at the Montreal Olympics was any indication, then tomorrow’s free skate could be one for the ages.

No fewer than three skaters managed to break the magical barrier of 114 points in their first programme, two of them even setting new World records. The surprising leader after day one is Dick Grayson (17) from the USA. The reigning World champion is coming off a difficult season after having to withdraw from the Grand Prix final due to an injury and only placing sixth at US Nationals. He finally booked his ticket to Montreal with a silver medal at the Four Continents Championship in Korea. At the Olympics, his decision to skip the team event and instead focus on the individual competition has certainly paid off so far. Performing an infectious short programme to Silver Convention’s “Fly Robin Fly”, the Boy Wonder set a new World record of 114,65 points and looks to turn his lead into gold in tomorrow’s free skate, in which Grayson will open his programme with the miraculous quadruple Axel.

Hot on Grayson’s heels, however, is his US teammate Wallace West (20). The Flash, as his fans call him, rebounded strongly from the disappointment in the team event and skated a new personal best of 114.23 points in his short programme to T.T.L.’s “Deep Shadows”. Notably, that put him ahead of Russia’s Valentin Streltsov, who had beaten West in the short programme of the team event just last week and thus paved the way to Russia’s first team gold medal. Even though Streltsov delivered another powerful performance, his score of 114.12 points fell just short of his new personal best from last week and eventually placed him third behind both Grayson and West.

The self-proclaimed ‘Bad Boy’ looked visibly displeased with his result, refusing to speak to reporters after the event and instead taking to Twitter to announce that he would also perform a quadruple Axel in tomorrow’s free skate and “crush the American [f-slur]s”.

Lying in fourth place is youngster Connor Jackson (16) from Korea. The Four Continents champion skated a personal best of 107.34 points and is still within range to upset the podium, should any of the current top three falter in tomorrow’s free skate. The same goes for André Blanc-Dumont (23) from France in fifth place. Despite being more than 10 points off the podium, the European silver medallist still delivered a personal best short programme of 103.21 points and could capitalize from potential mistakes by the leaders in the free skate.

“Ahhhhh...”

Dick lets out a deep, contended sigh as he feels the hot water rush down his body and clean away the stress and exhaustion of the day. Has a shower ever felt this good?, he wonders silently, his eyes closed and his hands running through his soaked raven hair.

Standing underneath the shower in his en-suite bathroom at the Olympic Village, Dick reflects upon the events of the past day. The incredible events. Today, Dick skated the short programme at the Olympic Winter Games. And not only did it go well. Not only did it go great. No. He’s in the lead. With a new World record. Even with his eyes closed, Dick cannot help but smile in disbelief at the thought.

I could become Olympic champion tomorrow…

Granted, it will probably be the closest Olympic competition that he sport of figure skating has seen in a very long time. Less than a one-point lead separates Dick in first from Valentin Streltsov in third, with Wally sandwiched in-between them in second. Anything can happen tomorrow. One wobbly jump landing, and it could all be over.

Still, just a few weeks ago, the mere idea of beating either Wally or Valentin – let alone both – would have seemed completely insane to the 17-year-old. Only now, that Dick has regained his confidence, does he fully begin to understand how badly his free skate at Nationals impacted him. Today, though, all these doubts and insecurities were just gone. Dick skated the short programme of his life, and if he manages the same tomorrow in the free, then maybe, just maybe, his biggest dream might still come true after all.

And if he does, it will be a pretty epic conclusion to a great Olympics for the US figure skating team. Even though they lost the team event to Russia, the individual disciplines have more than made up for that since. Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan of course started off the competition in style with a long-overdue gold medal in ice dance. Dick is still thankful (and somewhat surprised even), that no candid shots of his emotional breakdown to their moving free dance have found their way onto the internet.

Then, Harley Quinn delivered the surprise of the games, breaking through the phalanx of Russian and Japanese single skaters to win bronze in the women’s discipline, thanks to an outstanding free skate. It’s a testament to the friends that Dick and Harley have become in Montreal that he did not begrudge her the medal one bit, just because he may once have wanted to see Babs in her place instead.

Finally, tonight, Kory and Roy have gotten their happy ending after all, almost winning the free skate and climbing from fourth to second in the overall ranking to win silver. It may not have been the gold medal that they were aiming for, but even they had to admit that the Chinese were simply unbeatable this time around. And to quote Roy himself from the post-event interview with the US broadcaster, “two-time Olympic silver medallist ain’t too shabby”. What’s more, Megan and Conner shocked everyone by finishing fifth, at just 16 years of age respectively. With three of the four top pairs, including Kory and Roy, probably retiring after this season, the two seem primed and ready for the podium during the next Olympic cycle, if not even the victory.

That only leaves the men, where Dick and Wally have the historic opportunity to achieve a double win for the US. Watching Wally skate this time compared to watching him skate at Nationals was a difference between night and day for Dick. For the first time, Dick could watch Wally’s skate in all his glory and amazing quality without feeling intimidated by him. Instead, he was simply bursting with joy and pride at the incredible performance of his boyfriend – joy that Dick seemed to then transfer into his own short programme a few minutes later.

And now here we are, Dick marvels wordlessly as the hot water pours down his body. On the brink of making history. Me and my boyfriend. Who’s probably already fast asleep, knowing how Wally can and will sleep like a stone whenever and wherever, if given the chance.

Although preferably with his arms wrapped around me, Dick thinks, yearning for the comfort of being spooned again by Wally.

Yet, imagining the protective feeling of Wally's arms around him, another thought enters Dick's brain, a thought much less comforting than the ones before.

What if they don’t make history? What if it’s going to be a repeat of Nationals after all, and Dick’s nerves once more get the better of him?

What if he implodes again, just one step away from the greatest triumph of his life? Blowing a chance that may never come again?

If only Wally was here to hug these fears away…

Stepping out of the shower and into the en-suite bathroom, Dick towels himself dry, puts on some underwear and his pyjama and moves into the main room, letting himself fall onto the bed with a dull ‘oompfh’ of the mattress. Megan and Conner are out celebrating tonight with Kory and Roy and a few other skaters, which means that Dick has his room to himself this evening, at least for a few hours. Truth be told, he is more than grateful for this. As exuberant and as lively the former acrobat can be sometimes, in moments like this, especially on the night before an important free skate, Dick appreciates calmness and quietude to find some inner peace and the right head space to go out and deliver a great performance the next day.

Which is why Dick groans in slight annoyance when he hears the knock on the door. Who can this be? Conner has a key so he wouldn’t have to knock, and his family and coaches already bid him good night.

Reluctantly getting off the bed, Dick swiftly walks over to the door, which he pulls open with a little more force than is probably necessary and –

“Wally!”

Dick smiles in pleasant surprise at the sight of his boyfriend standing in the doorway. Wally’s smiling sheepishly himself, and all annoyance disappears from Dick’s body faster that he can rotate during the quad Axel.

“Mind if I come in?”, the ginger asks hopefully.

Instead of answering, Dick glances over Wally’s shoulder to check if the hallway is free – which it is – then he pulls Wally in, closes the door behind him and lands a quick kiss on his appreciate lips.

“What are doing here?”, Dick asks.

“Couldn’t sleep”, Wally answers, more to his feet than to Dick’s face, “and wanted to see you”. Looking up, he adds, “Is that very embarrassing to say?”

Never one to leave an opportunity for a joke by the way side, Dick smirks, “Not any more embarrassing than what you usually do or say, Flash”.

“Alright, alright”, Wally laughs, “Mr Fly Robin Fly”.

“Hey, it’s still better than High School Musical”, Dick retorts, all the while grabbing Wally’s hands and pulling the two of them onto his bed, until they are lying face to face.

A moment of silence, during which Dick just stares in silent wonder at the gorgeous face merely inches away from him.

The face of my boyfriend.

Then Wally starts, “So how do you feel?”, adding in an uncanny impersonation of the arena announcer’s voice, “Richard Grayson from the USA who’s currently in first place?”

Dick laughs, but then his voice grows softer, and more serious.

“I don’t know”, he answers thoughtfully. “A part of me is super calm and says that everything’s gonna be fine. ‘Just skate tomorrow like you did today and you’re gonna win’, you know? But then there’s this other part of me that says that this is just like Nationals and that I’m gonna f*ck it up again…”

Wally looks at him for a moment, before he says, “Come here”. He lays a hand on Dick’s shoulder and turns the younger boy towards him, until Dick’s back is perfectly lined up with Wally’s chest. Then Wally gingerly circles his arms around the smaller boy, spooning him protectively, and whispers, “You’re not gonna f*ck it up, Dickie.”

“But what if I do?”, Dick mumbles, thankful that he isn’t facing Wally right now. “What if Valentin nails the Axel and I don’t? Then my whole stupid Axel conspiracy is going to bite me in the ass.”

“It won’t”, Wally tries to reassure him. “Valentin’s way too mad after the short to land the Axel.”

“You know better than anyone that Valentin Streltsov is the most dangerous when he’s pissed off.”

“True”, Wally concedes, “but I don’t think this is the kind of pissed-off-ness that will help him. I mean, just look at this.”

Wally loosens one of his arms around Dick and pulls out his phone out of his jacket. Unlocking the screen with one hand, he holds out the device in front of Dick.

The display shows the most the recent tweet of @_gingerskatingwitch, better known as Barbara Gordon herself. The tweet is an image of Valentin Streltsov’s angry face in the Kiss & Cry after the short programme when he failed to break his own World record. The caption reads: When you realize Tchaikovsky was gay

“AHAHAHA”, Dick laughs out loud, sending a mental high five to his best friend back in Gotham.

When Dick has calmed down again, he says, “Oh, Babs, I love you”.

Rearranging his arm around Dick’s torso, Wally asks, “Is she here, by the way?”

“Not yet”, Dick replies, “her dad still had some work stuff to take care off. But they’re flying out to Montreal first thing tomorrow morning and should be here in time for the free.”

“Nice”, Wally remarks. “See? Another one to cheer you one.”

“Yeah”, Dick replies, lost in thoughts. His eyes fall on the little bedside table which is currently occupied by the stuffed Flying Graysons elephant that his family had made for Four Continents as well as the Romani elephant Dick picked off the ice after his short programme today. His heart had warmed at the sight and he wishes now that he could find the person who made him that gift. Dick rarely speaks openly about his Romani heritage, but it will always be a part of who he is, so the moment he saw the Romani flag on the ice this afternoon, there was no question which elephant he’d take with him.

“I guess…”, Dick begins, more to himself than to Wally, “it’s just that now that I’m here and that I’m so so close to the finish line, I’m just a bit afraid to take that final step. You know?”

“I do”, Wally confirms, pressing a kiss against Dick’s neck which warms up his heart. “The very first time I was leading after the short programme at Worlds was one my scariest skating experiences ever. I was so nervous, now that people were suddenly paying attention to me. Plus, Valentin was neck and neck with me, so that didn’t help either.”

Dick remembers watching those Worlds. Wally made an unusual number of mistakes in his free skate that year, although not as many Streltsov, so that in the end he still won.

“But you have nothing to worry about, Dickie. Yes, the numbers game is pretty tight. But your free skate is the most beautiful one in the world, and if you skate it like you did the short today, nobody can touch you. Not the judges. Not Valentin Streltsov. Not even me.”

At those words, Dick clumsily turns around in Wally’s arms so that they are face to face again. With a soft smile on his lips, Dick murmurs, “But I do want you to touch me”, and kisses Wally, this time longer and more affectionately than before.

When they pull apart, Dick says, “Walls, can I ask you something?”

“Well, you just did”, Wally grins stupidly, earning an eye roll from Dick. “Seriously!”

“Of course, you can, Dickie”, Wally assures him with a soft smile.

Dick pauses for a moment. The he asks quietly, “Have you ever thought about life after the Olympics?”

Wally looks surprised. “You mean skating? Or us?”

“… Both?”, Dick replies, insecurity in his voice.

Wally waits a few second before answering, clearly ordering the thoughts in his head.

“Well, as for the former, I don’t think I have. To be honest, I’ve spent so much of life just working towards that one goal that I never really had any time to think about what I’d do after that goal.”

“You think you’ll continue competing?”, Dick interjects.

“Don’t know”, Wally shrugs. “I’d be 24 by the time of the next Olympics. Not am impossible age for skating. But now that I think about it …. I’m not so sure I want to do it. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love skating, but I love other things too. Science, for example!” Wally’s face lights up at the mention and it warms Dick’s heart. “I really love science and definitely want to go to college one day and maybe bring together sports and science. I’ve devoted my life to skating, so I think life kind of owes me one at this point.”

“So … this is it for you?”, Dick asks hesitantly. “No Worlds?”

“Worlds?! In Russia?!”, Wally blurts out. “Are you kidding me? Valentin could do six underrotated single jumps, and they’d still find a way to give him gold.”

“Haha, yes, well you’re right on that one”, Dick admits laughingly, remembering that the upcoming World Championships are held in St Petersburg. The post-Olympic Worlds are typically a strange event, with many of the top athletes not even going because they are still so tired and burnt out from the Games just a few weeks prior. At the same time, that makes Worlds a good opportunity for upcoming skaters who did not qualify for the Olympics to have a breakthrough moment. After all, a medal is a medal. But of course, Wally is completely right: the less Valentin Streltsov in your life, the better.

“What about you, Dickie?”, Wally asks suddenly, pulling Dick out of his train of thoughts about the upcoming World Championships in St Petersburg. “You’re 17 now, so you easily have another Olympic cycle in you.”

Like Wally before him, Dick takes a moment to ponder on his answer.

“That’s true, it’s just… I love skating, just like you. Skating is my life. But I’m not a huge fan of competing. The toxic mind sets and all, it’s just not for me. But if I could find a way to channel my love for skating without that toxicity, that would be perfect.”

Dick thought it would be weird to admit to anyone, let alone his main competitor for the Olympic gold medal, that wasn’t enjoying competitions and that he was considering to do something else. But looking at the complete lack of judgement on Wally’s face right now, it feels like the most natural thing into world for Dick to open up.

“Any ideas?”, Wally inquires interestedly.

Dick’s lips turn into a bashful little smile as he senses his cheeks going slightly red.

“It’s probably really silly”, Dick begins in a small voice. “But I actually thought about creating a tour. Kind of like Haly’s Circus, but on ice. I want to honour my parents’ legacy, but also create something new and sophisticated, something that hasn’t been seen on the ice before. Like a unique theatrical experience on ice, rather than just your typical skating gala. And if I end up missing competitions after all, I can still come back a year or so before the next Games. The post-Olympic Worlds after Sapporo in four years will be in Gotham, which would be pretty cool as a final competition.”

Wally’s face lights up in excitement. “That sounds amazing, Dickie!!”, he exclaims. “Have you spoken to anyone about this?”

“Only you so far”, Dick answers truthfully. He gathers that by now, his cheeks must be as red as Wally’s tousled hair. “But having watched their free skate live, I want to talk to Carol and Hal first. They have the kind of clout that if they are on board, other people will join too. Besides, I think they will be on the same wave length as me, creatively speaking.”

“Absolutely”, Wally nods enthusiastically. “Oh, and if you still need a ginger-haired high school jock in your show, you know who to call.”

“Haha”, Dick laughs, “you’re already pencilled into the line-up, Flash.”

“I better be, Boy Wonder”, Wally replies cheekily, leaning forward to land a quick kiss on Dick’s lips.

When he pulls back, Dick continues, “And what about the other part of your post-Olympic life? You know, the one that isn’t about skating?”

The one that’s about us?, he adds silently.

“You mean the one that’s about this really cute black-haired boy from Gotham that I just met?”, Wally clarifies with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah, that one”, Dick cannot help but grin.

“Well”, Wally sighs gravely, “I did some research online, and apparently the STEM departments at Gotham University are some of the best in the world…”

Dick’s mouth falls open.

This cannot be real.

“You’d seriously move to Gotham?”, he asks in disbelief.

“Of course”, Wally answers without hesitation, his face and voice the epitome of conviction. “I bet Barry and Iris won’t be thrilled, but I’m no longer a kid, so they’ll have to get used to it. I’d go anywhere, Dick. As long as you’re right there with me.”

Wally right there beside me. Every day of the week. No more FaceTime calls. No more hiding. Just him and me together.

Dick must blink a few times to keep the tears gathering in his eyes at bay. Then he manages to confess in a thin voice, “I love you so much, Wally.”

“Love you too, Dickie.”

Instinctively, Dick locks his arms and legs around the larger man like a Koala and pulls their bodies closer together until they are perfectly intertwined and Dick can hear Wally’s heart beat in sync with his in the quiet of the hotel room. If they could just stay like this, wrapped up in one another and falling asleep in each other’s arms, Dick would not mind one bit.

To be fair, if the world came to an end right now, Dick would not mind either. Because not even the end of the world could reach him here in the impenetrable protectiveness of Wally West’s strong arms.

BZZZZ

Apparently, though, a text message to Wally’s phone that is tucked away in the pocket of his Team USA jacket still could reach them after all.

With a reluctant moan, Wally pulls out the device, unlocks its screen and groans even more loudly when he sees the message. “Urgh, it’s Barry. He wants to go through the schedule for tomorrow again.”

“We can never catch a break, can we?”, Dick comments, more bemused than annoyed.

“Oh, trust me, Boy Wonder”, Wally teases, kissing Dick once more, “we’ll treat ourselves to a life-long break when this is over”.

With will power that only an Olympian can possess, Wally disentangles himself from Dick’s limbs and slides off the bed. Dick, meanwhile remains on the mattress, holding onto Wally’s hand for as long as he can and giggling when his boyfriend quickly turns around to give Dick’s cheeks one more peck.

When Wally reluctantly places his hand on the door handle, Dick speaks fondly, “Good night, Flash. Save up your spark for tomorrow.”

“Good night, Robin”, Wally answers affectionately. “Rest your wings, so that tomorrow you may soar.”

Chapter Text

“Please welcome the final group of skaters onto the ice!”

The audience cheers in excited anticipation and the lights in the arena dim to an atmospherically dark blue as the final six competitors in the men’s single event skate onto the ice and line up in the order of their short programme placements. This means that none other than 17-year-old Dick Grayson takes the very last spot in the line, right next to the gorgeous ginger boy whose hand Dick has to actually stop himself from reaching out and grab right about now.

Somebody pinch me, please, the raven-haired boy pleads silently, while one by one all the skaters on the ice are introduced to the sold-out crowd in Montreal and to the millions of spectators at home. I’m at the freaking OIympics. And I’m leading after the short programme!

Although Dick can feel his heart beat all the way up to his throat, it’s not necessarily a bad feeling. Yes, of course he’s nervous beyond belief, but recalling Mr Fries’s words after the send-off in Gotham, Dick reminds himself that this is normal, that this is good even. In fact, he would probably be much more concerned if he did not feel nervous a good half hour before the most important skate of his life.

What’s perhaps even more surreal to Dick than the mere fact that he is leading after the short programme is that this means he actually did beat both Valentin and Wally. Glancing to his right, Dick briefly catches Wally’s eyes, and the two boys cannot help but grin like love-sick idiots, while Roy Harper’s words from earlier this morning echo in Dick’s ears again.

“A Birdflash double whammy, now THAT would be something, right?”

It’s not that Dick isn’t used to going into a free skate as the leader. It’s that he’s not used to it when he’s competing against Wally West. It’s just the natural of order of things. The way the world has always worked. When Wally West is on the ice, he naturally has to be first. The fastest. The strongest. The best.

And the cutest, too, Dick’s teenage mind adds cheekily.

Even when Dick beat him at the World Championships in Stockholm last year, Dick was still only second after the short programme and narrowly won in the end thanks to his quad Axel in the free skate. The only time Dick ever beat Wally in a short programme was at Nationals this year, and the less said about that competition, the better.

What is the universe trying to tell me?, Dick ponders silently.

Yet before he has time to come up with an answer, the spotlights move on from Valentin to Wally, and the announcer calls out, “From the United States of America, WALLACE WEST!”

Wally grins broadly, turning on the spot to wave at all four flanks of the arena – and honestly, Dick cannot blame the world for having fallen in love with that freckled smile, because how could you not?!

The crowd cheers loudly for Wally, but – much to Dick’s surprise – not quite as loudly as when his very own name is called out next in what can only be described as an out-of-body experience for the teenager.

“From the United States of America, RICHARD GRAYSON!”

A thunderous cheer erupts from the stands, a cheer so loud you could be forgiven to assume that Dick is actually a Canadian skater competing on home ice. Dick is taken aback by receiving arguably the loudest reception from all of the skaters on the ice right now and goes through the motions as he mirrors Wally’s previous gestures and waves at all sides of the arena.

Am I … a crowd favourite?, Dick marvels in wordless disbelief. The crowd favourite? Objectively he knows that he’s always been a darling of skating audiences around the world, not least because he combines all the things that you need to be popular in this sport: a pretty face, a tragic back story, and genuinely good skating and jumping skills. Still, this season has been such a rocky road for him – having to withdraw from the Grand Prix Final, bombing at Nationals, and getting beaten by the Korean hometown favourite at Four Continents – that Dick had actually forgotten how much the audience genuinely adore him, especially after his victory at Worlds last year. His non-participation in the team event earned him more than one uncomfortable interview questions, but after his triumphant short programme yesterday, all seems to be forgiven.

Let’s hope I don’t mess up all of that good will today…

In the mix of the darkened stands and the blinding spot lights, it’s impossible to make out any individual faces amongthe audience. Dick knows that his family, friends and peers are somewhere out there in the crowd. With this being the last figure skating event of the Games, the entire US squad has come out to support Dick, Wally, and Victor Stone. Even Barbara and her dad have made it in time, based on the selfie of the two of them with the rink in the background that Dick’s bestie sent him a couple of hours ago.

Everybody’s here, Dick muses as he finishes his waving turn at the audience, waiting to see if Robin will fly or fall…

Suddenly, the lights in the arena switch back on and the announcer proclaims the beginning of the six-minute warm-up. Fast-paced pop songs ring through the sound system of the arena to energize the audience in the stands and the skaters on the ice, although judging by how you can practically touch the electricity in the cold air, everybody in the building is already at peak energy level.

As he did in the short programme, Dick tries to focus on himself and keep his body and mind calm and composed, attempting only a few easy jumps to maintain a level of energy in his limbs without overexerting them prematurely. Yet unlike yesterday, Dick finds it significantly harder to remain concentrated, thanks to the undeniable presence of Valentin Streltsov on the ice. It’s only the second time after yesterday's short programme that Dick is competing against the Russian Bad Boy, and also the first time that he’s actually in the same warm-up group as Valentin, and in just a few seconds Dick has decided that it’s an experience he’d rather do without.

Dick has always known that Valentin’s skating is fast and big; he’s arguably the only skater who can match Wally aka The Flash when it comes to ice coverage. Still, sharing the warm-up ice with him is something else entirely. Every few seconds, Valentin rushes past him, his red leather jacket like a supernatural flame against the white surface, and easily takes off into a perfectly executed quad jump or triple Axel that earn loud cheers from the large contingent of obnoxiously loud Russian fans in the stands. It’s almost as if for Valentin the competition has already begun and he seeks to outshine his competitors before the first of the six free skates has even started.

Try as he might, Dick finds it hard not to be impressed by Valentin showing off, especially considering the practice session this morning. Both Dick and Wally delivered clean run-throughs of their free programmes which on any other day should fill every skater in the world with the utmost confidence, especially at the Olympics. Yet there also was Valentin, who – as Dick had predicted – did go for the quad Axel, and while he did step out of the landing at the very end, it was close. Very close. Too close for Dick’s liking. He knew enough about the jump to understand that Valentin did not need much more to finish it cleanly, and once he does…

Of course, that very moment the announcer reads out Valentin’s resumé to much fanfare from the Russian fans.

“He is a former World and Grand Prix Final champion. After an absence from the sport for over two years due to injuries, he returned to competitive ice in December to earn his third National title as well as his third European title. Having already won gold in last week’s team event, he is currently in third place. Representing the Russian Federation, VALENTIN STRELTSOV!”

Naturally, Valentin puts on his smuggest, most rock star smirk for the cheering crowd, even though Dick cannot suppress a little smirk of his own, imagining how badly the Russian must still seethe inside at the words “third place”.

Watching the blond Russian hunk rush past him, Dick has no idea what’s about to happen. Will his defeat in the short programme infuriate him so much that he loses control and makes mistakes, as Dick has theorized? Or will it energize him even more and make him a stronger skater than he already is?

Valentin Streltsov can be beaten, Dick and Wally proved that just yesterday.

And we’re gonna prove it again, Dick things defiantly, just watch!

But all the same, a tiny nagging doubt in the back of his mind quietly but insistently predicts that Dick’s goading of the Russian skater from the other day is about to come back and bite him in a few minutes…

After a moment, the announcer proceeds to the next resumé that Dick is much more eager to hear.

“He is a two-time World champion who won his third Grand Prix Final and fourth National Championship title this season. In last week’s Olympic team event, he scored a season’s best in the short programme to win a silver medal overall, and he is currently in second place. Representing the United States of America, WALLACE WEST!”

Looking over to the warm smile with which Wally waves at the crowd, a part of Dick wishes that they could simply jump ahead in time, skipping the free skate altogether and retreating back to Dick’s bed room at Wayne Manor where they could nestle together under Dick’s weighted blanket and never leave the house again. No matter what happens tonight, whether Dick wins or loses, nothing will take away from the him the most valuable price that he has earned this season, a price that outweighs any medals and riches in the world: his boyfriend.

As if sensing Dick’s gaze on his neck, Wally tilts his head to meet his eyes, and the second that Dick sees the emerald shine of Wally’s green eyes, he knows that he is going to be okay, regardless of thet number of quadruple jumps that Valentin Streltsov is about to throw down.

The warmth of Wally’s eyes gives Dick enough confidence to smile and wave in earnest when it’s finally time for own resumé to be read out.

“A two-time Junior World champion and a three-time Junior National champion, he placed second at the Four Continents Championship this season. After becoming the first skater ever to land a quadruple Axel in competition and winning last year’s World Championship, he set a new World record in the short programme and is currently in first place. Representing the United States of America, RICHARD GRAYSON!”

Letting his eyes wander across the audience, Dick quickly spots his personal fan block, consisting not only of his family as well as Barbara and James Gordon, but also the entirety of the US Figure Skating delegation, including even the Wally West supporters – who have grown suspiciously indistinguishable from the Dick Grayson supporters throughout the course of these Games. Tim and Jason are holding up their familiar ‘ROBIN FOR GOLD’ sign, while Barbara is showcasing a colourful sign that reads ‘TRUST THE ORACLE’ and makes Dick chuckle despite himself. Every one of his family members is wearing Flying Grayson scarves around their necks, the sight of which almost transforms Dick’s chuckle into a suppressed sob. Additionally, several of the skaters have opted to wear ‘BOY WONDER’ shirts over their Team USA outfits, including Kory and Roy, Conner and Megan, and even Harley Quinn, while Carol Ferris and Hal Jordan went for more diplomatic ‘BIRDFLASH shirts that have Dick’s and Wally’s faces merged into one.

For a brief moment Dick is far too moved take his eyes off of all his supporters in the audience. In fact, he is so moved that he almost misses the breeze of the red leather jacket rushing past him. Turning his head just in time, though, Dick catches Valentin Streltsov preparing for yet another practice jump, and suddenly his heart plunges.

Dick has jumped enough quadruple Axels in the last couple of years to recognize the appropriate entrance when he sees it.

In almost mind-boggling speed, Valentin glides sideward, then steps forward and kicks his body into the air, where he rotates four and a half times.

With controlled precision his right blade returns to the ice and glides backward, his free leg elegantly extended. A massive cheer erupts from the Russian fan block, who immediately start chanting “VALENTIN! VALENTIN! VALENTIN!”. The man himself merely throws a glance over his shoulder in Dick’s direction, smugly pops the collar of his leather jacket and mouths, “Gotcha!”

If Dick were able to see himself through Valentin’s eyes right now, he would be met by a ghostly pale face on his raven-haired head.

This cannot be happening, Dick’s mind begins to spiral immediately. Feeling like somebody’s just punched all the air out of his gut, he stops dead in his tracks.

Valentin Streltsov just landed a perfect quad Axel. In the warm-up to the Olympic free skate. The one thing that Dick could always rely on to distinguish himself from his competition is gone. He’s no longer unique. What’s worse: the strategy that Dick had come up with in order to ensure that Valentin will fail  – coaxing him into attempting the quad Axel and thus derailing his entire programme – looks like it’s about to ensure Valentin’s crushing victory over both Dick and Wally.

Wally was right, Dick suddenly panics, he was totally right. Valentin was already stronger than us to begin with and now I’ve completely sealed the deal. I’m the biggest fool in the world. How could I be so stupid?!

I’ve ruined both of our chances for Olympic gold forever!

I –

I –

Suddenly there’s a hand on Dick’s shoulder, and looking at it, Dick is met by the kind reassuring warmth of Wally’s green eyes.

“You alright, Dickie?”, Wally asks with genuine concern in his voice.

“V-Valentin! He j-just”, Dick starts to stammer nervously, but breaks off.

“… just landed a quad Axel? Yeah, so what”, Wally finishes for him with a pointedly unimpressed shrug.

“But Wally!”, Dick tries again”, “This is – ”

“ – just the warm-up”, Wally cuts him off gently. “Not the actual competition.”

Dick simply stares at him with pleading eyes, not even sure what exactly he is pleading for. For the both of them to beat Valentin after all? For the free skate to be over? To run away from the world with Wally and never to be seen again?

All of the above?

The things Dick would give right now to be able to simply wrap his arms around the tall ginger.

As if reading Dick’s mind, Wally squeezes Dick’s shoulder and reaffirms him in a warm voice, “Hey, you’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

When Dick still doesn’t look altogether convinced, Wally adds, “Just remember what your coaches have always told you. Focus on yourself and only yourself, and forget everybody else. Then you have nothing to worry about.”

Dick lets Wally’s words sink for a moment, then gives his boyfriend a small nod. Wally’s right. Dick has no control how well or badly Valentin will skate, if he’ll land the quad Axel or not. The only thing that Dick does have control over is how well he skates himself.

And I’ll be damned if I’ll let one stupid jump ruin this moment for me.

A small smile blossoms on Dick’s face, and after reciprocating Dick’s nod and sensing that his boyfriend will be alright, Wally lets go and resumes his warm-up. Dick, meanwhile simply continues to skate around the rink, occasionally practicing a few easy jumps to keep his muscles on standby.

Reaching the far end of the rink, a poster in the higher sections of the stands catches Dick’s attention.

It’s held up by a dark-haired young girl, probably no older than 10 to Dick’s eye, flanked by a man and woman on either side who look to be in their early thirties and might be the girl’s parents. The poster consists of two colours, the upper half featuring a light blue, whereas the lower half is painted green.

The colours of the Romani flag, Dick realizes with a quickened heartbeat. Completing the trifecta of the Romani colours, a word is written in red ink across the middle of the poster.

Ratyáki-Chirikli.

The Romani words for ‘nightingale’.

It takes Dick a moment to process the reference, but then he remembers. At the beginning of the season, a journalist had asked him about his costume for the free skate – a black costume with blue rhinestones spreading from Dick’s chest like outstretched wings over his shoulders and arms down to his fingers – and whether it had any personal meaning to him, like his Robin-inspired costume for the short programme. In the moment, Dick had decided not to reveal the complete back story, which was that it was inspired by one of his mom’s bedtime stories about a mythical bird-like creature with black and blue wings called 'Nightwing' that flies across the sky at night and protects the innocent. Instead he simply explained that even though the colours did not match the actual bird, his free skate costume was his imaginary version of a nightingale. “I’m a robin in the short programme, and a nightingale in the free”, Dick had answered suggestively.

And now here is this girl who’s either Romani herself or at least knowledgeable in Romani culture, cheering him as if he were a Romani nightingale, almost like the little sister Dick never had, with adults by her side who could pass along as Dick’s parents in terms of age.

As if I’m looking at a ghostly version of my family from an alternate universe…

With an excited giggle, the girl realizes that Dick has made eye contact with her and waves enthusiastically at him, and with a wave of his own Dick suddenly understands who threw the stuffed elephant dressed in the Romani flag onto the ice.

At that moment, Dick understands something else too.

Wally is right. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. No matter what happens in the next hour. We’ll always have each other. And I’ll always be proud of who I am and my heritage. Just as proud as the little girl with the Romani flag.

“Skaters, you have one minute remaining.”

Dick circles the rink one more time before returning to the boards as the first skater to make sure he goes out of Valentin’s way. At the boards, Selina Kyle and Victor Fries meet him and hand him his blade guards and his Team USA jacket as well as the suffed Romani elephant and the Flying Graysons elephant. “Are you okay, Dick?”, Selina asks carefully, clearly alluding to what Valentin just achieved during the warm-up. “I’m fine”, he reassures her, surprising even himself with how truthful his answer sounds and feels.

Is he sure that he can beat Valentin Streltsov after all? Dick honestly has no idea.

But is he going to try and deliver the programme of his life, regardless of his competition? One thousand percent.

“Skaters, this concludes your warm-up. Please leave the ice.”

By the time the rest of the skaters get off the ice, Dick and his coaches have already retreated back stage, eager to get as much distance between themselves and Valentin Streltsov’s team as possible. Even more so than any other competition venue Dick has attended, television screens are mounted on the walls of every hall way and room, making it virtually impossible not to watch the events on the ice unfold.

No escaping the competition at the Olympics, Dick sighs, finding a corner from where he can follow the screens at a slight distance.

A couple of minutes later, the room fills with a few more skaters and coaches, including Wally and Barry Allen, who’s wearing a ruby-coloured coat. The second their eyes meet, Wally and Barry move over to Dick’s corner, standing sufficiently far apart to claim plausible deniability but also close enough to reach for each other’s hands should anything dramatic happen.

Anything dramatic meaning Valentin’s quad Axel…

Luckily for Dick, though, the Russian skater and his equally problematic coach Ishmael Gregor are nowhere to be seen, and as far as Dick’s concerned, they are more than welcome to stay wherever the hell they are.

Then before they know it, the screens fill with the image of Jiro Osamu from Japan, skating onto the ice with the majestic gravitas that Dick assumes must come with being a defending Olympic champion who’s about to give what might very well be his final performance on competitive ice. He’s wearing what looks to Dick’s untrained eyes to be a traditional Japanese costume in a light blue colour. As one of the few skaters who, like Dick, perfectly blended technique and artistry, Osamu was the undisputed king of skating until the previous Olympic Games in Munich, where he won gold in a landslide. Since then, however, Osamu hasn’t won any major international events like Worlds of the Grand Prix Final. Not only did skaters like Wally or Valentin Streltsov come along – who had more quads in their arsenal than him; he also was side-lined by injuries and an aging body that was not getting any fitter for the youth-centric sport of figure skating.

Now, at age 26, Osamu’s the oldest in the final group of the top six skaters, and quite a lot of people were actually surprised to see him even reach the final group after the inconsistent season he’s had, but not Dick. No. Dick has followed his career for too long and has seen too many comebacks from the Japanese to count him out before all is said and done.

A tense, expectant silence falls over the crowd in the arena and the people watching backstage, and then the wistful piano notes of ‘To Zanarkand’ from the soundtrack of Final Fantasy X arise. Dick remembers Jason obsessing about this game a few years back when it was re-released for the Nintendo Switch, and while his little brother had completely lost himself in the game, it was the spellbinding opening theme by Nobuo Uematsu that caught Dick’s attention.

What a fitting farewell theme, Dick things admiringly, as Osamu prepares for his opening quad flip – and nails it!

“YES!”, Dick cheers, while trying to keep his body warmed up all the while. Competition or not – he has too much respect for Osamu’s artistry and career to not wish him the curtain call that he deserves.

And the way his programme is going, he seems to be getting it, actually. Osamu lands one jump after the next, wiping away any doubts that people may have had about his health and condition. In fact, watching his skating grow even more grandiose as the music transitions from a piano-only version into an orchestral edit, Dick thinks this could be the best free programme he’s seen from Osamu since the last Olympics.

The audience apparently agree, giving Osamu a richly deserved standing ovation that even brings some tears to the eyes of the usually so emotionally composed man from Japan. The judges are on the same page, too.

“Jiro Osamu from Japan has earned in the free skate 210.24 points, and a total competition score 312.11 points. He is currently in first place.”

Even though that’s still 15 points behind Valentin’s free skate World record from the team event, it’s nevertheless a big number – bigger, indeed, than Dick’s own free skate at Four Continents. With a stronger short programme, Osamu may have walked away with another Olympic medal.

Dick suddenly interrupts his warm-up routine when the next skater is announced, having completely forgotten about the order of skaters in the final group.

“Our next skater represents France. ANDRÉ BLANC-DUMONT!”

Whipping his hair around, Dick finds the familiarly gorgeous, brown-haired head of the 22-year-old Frenchman on the screen, smiling and waving at the cheering crowd. He’s wearing the same costume that he wore at the European Championships a few weeks prior: white trousers and a loose-fitted white shirt without any rhine stones, unbuttoned just enough to tease the toned chest beneath.

Dick only has to take one glimpse at the unspeakably handsome face to know what he has to do. Shoving his stuffed elephants to his coaches and taking hold of Wally’s hand beside him, Dick says, “Let’s go!” and pulls the surprised ginger with him towards the inside of the arena.

“What the hell are you doing?”, Barry yells after them in confusion, accompanied sternly by Selina. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Where we’re going, Dick thinks defiantly, is of course to the boards. ‘Cause there’s no way that I’m not watching André skate in person. Granted, it’s not like Dick has never seen André perform live before. Heck, the two competed against each other just this season at the Grand Prix de France where Dick in fact beat him. Still, Dick knows in his heart of heart that he may never get this opportunity again. At 22 years old, it’s uncertain whether André will continue for another Olympic cycle, so if this is the moment that Dick’s favourite skater steps down from the ice, he definitely wants to witness it in person – no matter how adamant he’s been in the past to not watch his competitors perform any more than he has to.

By the time Dick and Wally reach the boards, the first piano notes of Mr/Mme’ by Loïc Nottet have already started playing. With the music coming out of the sound system of the arena – rather than the TV in Babs’ bed room – Dick is finally able to properly listen to the lyrics of the poignant ballad. Growing up with the international group of artists at Haly’s Circus, Dick became accustomed to hearing a plethora of languages around him from an early age, something that only helped him in his language lessons with his private tutor Dr Nygma. This affinity for other languages also comes in handy this very moment in understanding what the lyrics to André’s music actually mean.

Good evening, mister, madam

Today, I say all to you

I prefer speaking to you with 'you'

Because I dislike the 'You'

I find that it makes you older

And me, I want to remain young

A boy for life

Without handkerchiefs, nor shouts

So go ahead, I say all to you

Of the drama I live

Every day, in hell

That's where I live

I'd want to leave

Escape far from it all

from that crazy world

And go I don't know where

It’s the first time that Dick has paid actual attention to the lyrics of the song, and within seconds he feels a heavy lump get stuck in his throat and instinctively reaches for Wally’s hand for support, not even caring any more if anybody sees the two of them holding hands.

The lyrics are beautiful and tragic all at once, detailing in heart-wrenching terms the struggle of a young man who is at odds with life and the dramatic world around him and wants nothing more than to just escape it all – a desire that Dick can relate to only too well. The lyrics also add an entirely new layer of meaning to André’s stunningly gorgeous choreography. Before the Olympics, the programme was already one the most beautiful that Dick has ever seen. But now, listening carefully to the desperation in the song, it is challenging Carol’s and Hal’s free dance as his favourite programme of all time.

Indeed, Dick is so swept up in the emotion of the programme that he hardly pays any attention at first to André’s technical execution of the programme – until Wally exclaims an excited “YES!” – along with the rest of the ecstatic audience – when André lands one of the best quad Salchows he’s ever seen as his opening element.

Much like Jiro Osamu before him, the technical weaknesses that André displayed earlier this season, especially at Europeans, are nowhere to be seen. He may not attempt quite as many quad jumps as Valentin, Wally, and Dick himself, but today, every single one goes perfectly, building the predominantly Francophone audience into a gradual frenzy and making the increasing intensity of the lyrics manifest on the ice and in the arena.

A new universe

Where the tears, the pains

Would be just a myth

Only one fucking urban legend

So, let me leave

Tell me how to escape

Enough questions asked

Let me, I want to leave it all

André is having the skate of his life. The spectators know it, the way that their cheering for each successfully executed element grows louder each time, and André himself clearly knows it too, the way he throws himself into the choreography with more passion and abandon than ever before. André’s performance truly is the quintessence of ballet on ice – so much so that watching him skate his heart out, Mr Fries’s words from the send-off echo in Dick’s ears.

“But what I seriously hope is that aside from winning, you will go there because you love skating. Because there’s nothing that you love more than going onto the ice and letting the music take you away. When you find that love for yourself, all the rest will come to you. Skate like no one’s watching, and then the world will never be able to stop watching you.”

This is precisely what André is doing. He’s letting the music take him away and skating like there is no one watching. Only him and the ice. That’s why Dick finds his skating so irresistible to look away from. Not simply because André Blanc-Dumont is an objectively gorgeous man. But because he’s a man who’s completely and unconditionally in love with his sport.

No, Dick corrects himself. Not his sport. His art. Because that performance truly transcends any notion of competition, scores, and medals.

And it’s exactly the kind of performance that I want to deliver myself, Dick decides in quiet determination, then and there. The kind of performance that I know that I can deliver myself.

Regardless of whatever Valentin does before him.

In tune with Dick’s emotions, the programme reaches a fitting climax.

So, I hope one day

I could make love

With a sincere person

Who will not play tricks on me

I'm really fed up

With giving without any return

I'm fed up with loving, me

With no soulmate, that's hard

But know all the same,

That on scene, grace to You

I think that I'm far from this crazy world

Cause I write when I'm making a mistake

And I laugh when I'm dancing

And I live when I'm singing

And for all of that, I say to you :

Thank you

A few more bars during which the voice on the song harmonizes beautifully with the music, giving André time for his final spins – then the song comes to a close and the entire audience jump to their feet and let out a roar so loud that Dick is almost afraid the roof might fly off the arena. Not that he or Wally for that matter are holding back themselves, but instead cheer at the top of their lungs for the Frenchman on the ice who looks visibly moved as he takes his bows on the ice.

“Wow!”, Wally gasps, awe shining in his eyes when the two boys turn to each other. Dick’s heart swells even larger, seeing how André’s performance appears to have had the same effect on his boyfriend as it had on Dick himself.

“Yeah”, Dick simply agrees, barely audible among the endless ovation for André, “that’s why I wanted to watch him live, and not just on the screen.”

“I can totally see why”, Wally says, still in a slight daze, “although we should probably head backstage”.

On the way back, Dick and Wally walk past Connor Hawke and his coaches, and the two of them wish the 16-year-old from Korea good luck in passing. “Thank you!”, Connor replies over his shoulder, an unusually nervous smile on his face. Dick can imagine all too well what the teenager must be feeling right now, having to step on the ice and perform his first ever Olympic free skate after two of his most experienced competitors just delivered some of the best performances of their lives back-to-back.

Exactly what I myself might be facing in just a few minutes…

Dick and Wally finally reunite with their pointedly scowling coaches backstage just in time to witness the announcement of André’s score on TV.

“André Blanc-Dumont from France has earned in the free skate a personal best of 216.56 points, and a total competition score 319.77 points. He is currently in first place.”

A wave of gasps, Dick’s very own prime among them, sound through the backstage area, blending with the wave of roars that come down the hallway from inside the arena. Meanwhile, on screen, André’s hands fly to his mouth while tears roll down both his own face and that of his coach, an elegantly dressed tall man with curly dark hair who instantly wraps his arms around his disbelieving protégé.

The rational part of Dick reminds himself how unlikely it still is for André to reach the podium, despite this being by far the biggest score of his entire career. There are four more skaters still to come, three of whom (Valentin, Wally, even Dick himself) have all scored even higher free skates than André, and one (Connor) who absolutely has the ability to at least skate on a similar level as the Frenchman.

Still, Dick hopes defiantly, if there was ever a programme deserving of an Olympic medal, it’s this one.

Connor Hawke from Korea, who of course beat Dick at Four Continents, is next. Watching the sixteen-year-old skate towards centre ice and remembering the running order, Dick feels his pulse beginning to quicken.

If Connor’s on the ice, then Valentin’s next…

The moment of truth is approaching, even though the man himself, much to Dick’s relief, is still nowhere to be seen.

For Connor Hawke, the moment of truth arrives right at the beginning of the programme with his quad Lutz, the second-hardest jump behind the quad Axel. To the audible disappointment of the many Korean fans in the audience, Connor steps out of the landing, starting off the programme on a bad note that unfortunately confirms his nervous facial expression from a few minutes ago.

Connor is skating to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ by Queen and while the programme itself is great and Connor himself is a great skater too, the two together somehow just don’t seem to gel. It’s the first time Dick is obseving the programme in detail – having been far too emotional at Four Continents after his Olympic qualification to pay any attention – and watching Connor try to keep up with the iconic music, Dick cannot help but get the impression that the song is almost too iconic for the teenager. That the song is still too larger than life for the boy, who moved up from juniors to seniors only this season.

Dick is certainly not judging Connor for that, though. When Dick decided on Moonlight Sonata for his free skate last summer, he had those very same doubts and concerns. That the music was too iconic for a teenager like him, and that he lacked the gravitas and experience to do the piece justice on the ice. Luckily, together with Helena Bertinelli, the resident ice dance coach and head choreographer at Fries Academy, Selina and himself had found way to ‘crack the Moonlight code’, as they’d said, and found an interpretation of the music that accentuated Dick’s strength as a skater, rather than exposing his shortcomings - which were admittedly far and few between.

Connor and his team appear to have been less lucky, Dick now finds, especially since today Connor’s jumping agility seems to be not quite with him. After the botched quad Lutz, he manages to avoid any further falls or step outs, but some of Connor’s jumps look suspiciously close to under-rotations to Dick’s naked eye. The yellow symbols in the tech box in the left-hand upper corner of the screen all but confirm it: the judges will review several of Connor’s jumps after the programme and potentially downgrade them, which is never a good sign; if Dick can spot the under-rotations during the very live performance, then the judges almost certainly will, too, upon slow-motion review.

When Connor’s free skate ends, he gets a big cheer from the audience, but unlike with Jiro and André before him, most of the spectators (except the die-hard fans from Korea, of course), remain seated. Based on the strained smile on Connor’s handsome face, the Korean knows it too. It wasn’t a bad skate by any means, but neither was it the skate you’d need to upset the top three and fight your way onto the podium at the Olympics.

As Connor steps off the ice, the camera catches a brief glimpse of the blond man in the red leather jacket rushing out onto the rink. All of a sudden, Dick’s stomach plunges off a cliff and blood rushes to his ears.

It’s time. Valentin’s next.

As if to make things worse, the next second Dick hears Barry Allen announce, “Okay Wally, you ready? We gotta go.”

NO!

Already?!

This cannot be happening, right? How is he supposed to bear watching Valentin’s free skate without Wally by his side?!

Instinctively, Dick searches for Wally’s eyes, which look at Dick with their so familiar warmth, while Wally gently takes hold of Dick’s hands.

“Listen, Dick”, Wally speaks calmly, seemingly knowing exactly what’s going in Dick’s head right now, “everything’s gonna be fine, okay? No matter what happens.” In a quiet voice, he adds, “I love you, remember?”

Not caring about anyone seeing them, Dick throws his arms around Wally’s body and whispers, “I love you, too”. Wally’s arms wrapping themselves around Dick’s back have never felt so good and so necessary before as they do right now.

When they pull apart, Dick manages to smile through the tears amassing in his eyes, and softly whispers, “Good luck, Flash”.

“Good luck, Robin”. Wally reciprocates with another squeeze of Dick’s hands. “See you on the other side.”

Neither of them seems willing to let go, but pointed coughs from both Barry Allen and Selina Kyle do the trick, and Wally slowly follows his coach down the hallway that leads towards the rink.

Dick’s eyes follow the pair of them, until Wally’s ginger mop of hair vanishes around a corner and the voice announcer pulls Dick back into the present moment

A couple of minutes later, the announcer confirms Dick’s suspicions.

“Connor Hawke from the Republic of Korea has earned in the free skate 194.62 points, and a total competition score 301.96 points. He is currently in third place.”

Just like Dick predicted. Not a horrible skate, but not a skate to take the lead ahead of André and Jiro either. Yet, before Dick can ponder on this any further, the next words of the announcer make his blooder run colder than the ice in the arena.

“Our next skater represents the Russian Federation. VALENTIN STRELTSOV!”

Dick can hardly breathe by the time Valentin Streltsov reaches centre ice, popping the collar of his leather jacket one last time and assuming his opening pose with a confident smirk on his chiselled face. The moment of truth is imminent. If Dick’s theory proves true and Valentin – unlike the warm-up – misses the quad Axel and the rest of his programme derails, Dick and Wally may have a change against him. But if he doesn’t…

If Valentin lands the Axel, Dick barely allows himself to think, it’s all over for us.

Valentin Streltsov will be Olympic champion. Unbeatable for either Dick or Wally.

And it will be entirely Dick’s fault for coaxing Valentin into attempting the Axel, when the Russian skater was already borderline unbeatable without the Axel.

This cannot be, Dick suddenly begins to panic. He remembers all the second-hand superhero comics that he used to read as a little boy. The hero would always prevail over the bad guy at the end, no matter how dire the situation looked before the final fight. A villain like Valentin Streltsov cannot win. Must not win.

But what if this OIympic final isn’t like one of those comics? What if it’s more like the grown-up comics that Dick only discovered as a teen? The ones in which the hero did not always win? The ones in which the hero went into the final show-down against the unbeatable villain, knowing that he was fighting a losing a battle? Could this free skate be more like one of those comics? With Dick and Wally trying to keep on fighting although they both know that they’ve already lost?

All because of my arrogance and stupidity!

His heart beat accelerating, Dick feels like he’s about to pass out. Where is Wally?! Where is Bruce?! He needs somebody to hold on to!

The moment that the all-too-familiar guitar riff of “Seven Nations Army” starts strumming, Dick becomes aware again of Selina’s and Mr Fries’s presences behind him, and he instantly grabs their hands as if his life depends on it. His coaches say nothing, but merely squeeze his hands reassuringly. Dick’s eyes remain locked on the TV screen on the opposite wall, but at least his pulse slows down ever so slightly thanks to the calming warmth of his coaches.

Only a few seconds into the programme, though, his heart quickens again when Valentin begins the tell-tale preparation for the quad Axel. Despite his nerves and anxiety, Dick is able to recognize the difference in technique of the Russian’s approach. Where Dick puts control and care first – knowing very well how badly he could injure himself in a badly executed jump – Valentin appears to be all about reckless abandon, perhaps due to lack of training the quad Axel. He certainly is even faster and more energetic than Dick in getting ready to take off from the ice.

And then before Dick can even process it, it happens.

Valentin kicks his right leg into the air and jumps. In Dick’s mind, the world comes to a stop and the blond man rotates four and a half times around himself as if in slow-motion, his red leather jacket becoming a swirling cloud of red sparks against the pristine white of the icy surface.

Dick holds his breath, no longer sensing how hard his fingers are gripping the hands of his coaches.

Finally, Valentin’s right boot slams back down again and his blade cuts into the ice –

Only for it to lose its balance, twist to the side and send the skater crushing to the ground with his right hip against the ice.

A sharp, collective in-take of breath fills the backstage room, Dick’s mouth falling far open along with almost everybody watching the screen as if they are magically compelled to. Based on the sharp hiss that sounds through the speakers of the screen, the audience in the arena just reacted similarly.

Valentin himself looks visibly shaken by the mistake, needing a painfully long second to get back up and find his way into the choreography again. The quad Lutz is next, the second-hardest and second-most valuable jump in his programme – but again, Valentin steps out of the landing! Now, his previously upset face becomes downright furious, his eyes glaring with such fire that you could probably melt the ice beneath Valentin’s blades.

Following the botched Axel and Lutz, Valentin manages to hold on to the flip, but like Connor before him, the jump looks suspiciously tight in its rotations. Dick, meanwhile, watches the free skate unfold as if he were in a silent trance. With every element that Valentin misses or at least executes less than perfectly, the whole thing becomes more surreal.

Valentin Streltsov, the greatest figure skater in the world, is bombing his free programme at the Olympics!

So dazed by what he is witnessing on the screen, Dick barely perceives the astounded voices speaking behind him.

“What the hell is happening?!”, Selina gasps.

“He’s imploding!”, Victor Fries answers in audible astonishment.

Just like I said he would, a small but defiant voice in Dick’s head dares to add in silent self-satisfaction.

A few more shaky landings and questionably rotated jumps later, Valentin’s programme ends and the young man lets out an angry scream. Although Dick does not speak Russian, he’d wager a good guess as to the kind of language that just left the mouth of the self-proclaimed Russian Bad Boy.

With the most forced smile Dick has ever seen, the Russian hunk takes his bows and skates back towards the board, his face instantly souring again once he joins his coach who looks equally upset.

Slowly but surely, the mist of disbelief in Dick’s head starts to clear away, and the reality of what just happened is beginning to sink in.

Valentin bombed! He actually did bomb! He really attempted the quad Axel, messed it up at the very last second and then lost control of the entire programme.

My theory was dead on!

What difference a few milliseconds could make. One moment, it looked like Valentin was about to land the most perfect quad Axel the world, including Dick, had ever seen. The next, Valentin lay sprawled across the ice, his face just as shocked as the thousands of people in the arena and the millions at home watching him. The undefeatable, the World record holder, the man who had not missed a single jump since his comeback had fallen, literally and figuratively. The jump that was supposed to pave the way to his greatest triumph turned out to be the beginning of the end of his golden dream.

Dick was far too immersed in the programme itself to keep track of the technical scores during the performance, so he has no idea where Valentin will end up in the ranking eventually as the skater and the coach trudge to the Kiss & Cry in deadly silence. Valentin went into the free skate with a huge lead over the other skaters from the short, and the Russia-friendly judges on the panel will certainly try their best to boost him unfairly as best as they could. So even with such a disastrous free skate, Dick would not be surprised to see Valentin take over the lead and walk away with a medal in the end. That result would surely kill Dick, though. Both André and Jiro were galaxies ahead of what Valentin just delivered, and arguably even Connor, while far from perfect, did a more admirable job in the Russian.

If there’s any justice in the world, Dick quietly hopes against hope, that bastard will finally get what he deserves…

Will there be justice, though? For once?

Both Valentin and his coach look completely stone-faced in the Kiss & Cry as the recap showcases all of Valentin’s mistakes in brutal slow-motion. After a couple of minutes, the dreaded voice of the announcer returns.

“Valentin Streltsov from Russia has earned in the free skate 198,35 points and a total competition score of 312,37 points. He is currently in second place.”

“NO WAY!!!”, Selina exclaims behind him disbelievingly, while Dick’s own face lights up like a kid’s on Christmas Eve. A wave of profound shock runs through the backstage area, matching the incredulous audience reaction in the arena.

On the screen, the camera lingers just long enough on Valentin Streltsov to see him jump up in anger and throw the water battle he was holding into the corner of the Kiss & Cry, his face almost as red as his leather jacket. The next second, the image cuts to the leaders’ lounge, where the current top 3 are seated and watching the rest of the competition together. Right now, André Blanc-Dumont is crouching in the middle chair and resting his head in his hands as if he’s crying, while Jiro Osamu and Connor Hawke on either side of him are cheering and patting him on the back in a congratulatory way.

Only then does Dick connect the dots.

André is still in the lead. And there are only two skaters left to go.

Oh my god. André is an Olympic medallist!!!

He beat Valentin!!!

André has won several European Championships and has medalled at both World Championships and the Grand Prix Final more than once, but this is without question the greatest triumph of his career, in part because it’s so unexpected. To be just fifth after the short programme, and then jump onto the podium in the free? Beating the strongest technical skater in the world?

For once, justice has been served!!!

Considering the number of mistakes that Valentin made, his score is still laughably inflated in Dick’s opinion and should have come nowhere close to besting Jiro overall. Still, André beat him, even with all the Russian favouring, and that in itself borders on a total miracle.

Dick can feel his mouth turn upward into an ecstatic smile, and turning around, he finds similarly euphoric expressions on his coaches’ faces.

And wait a sec – are those tears in Selina’s eyes?

“Well”, Mr Fries pointedly clears his throat and straightens his coat, “I think it’s time to go inside. Are you ready, Dick?”

“Never been readier”, he answers with the widest smile his face may have ever worn.

On the way towards the rink, however, another realization hits him.

If Valentin’s done, then his boyfriend is next.

“WALLY!”, Dick exclaims suddenly.

Dick was so absorbed into Valentin’s implosion that he completely forgot about the rest of the competition. Now, though, his eyes bulging inside their sockets, he speeds off towards the ice and reaches the boards just when the opening piano notes of Coldplay’s ‘Speed of Sound’ travel through the huge arena.

Instantaneously, Dick’s face lights up again, because out there on the ice, there it is, again. That warm, serene, peaceful smile on Wally’s freckled face and the emerald shine in his eyes.

The smile on the face of the man whom Dick loves with every fibre of his being.

My boyfriend.

The yellow and orange rhinestones across the torso of Wally’s red costume sparkle more brightly than ever before, as if the result of the preceding skater has added to them an extra level of luminosity. Never before has the nickname ‘Flash’ seemed more appropriate for the skater from Keystone City than today.

Like a sparkly red thunder storm, Wally takes off into his opening combination of a quad Lutz and a triple toe loop the second that the first verse of the song kicks off. “YESSS!!!, Dick shouts and claps enthusiastically when Wally lands both jumps perfectly. The raven-haired boy finds it difficult to unzip his jacket and get ready for his own skate, when the love of his life is out there on the ice, giving what could very well be the most important – and possibly even last – performance of his competitive career.

Especially because Wally’s appears to be having a repeat of Nationals, nailing one element after the next and growing more visibly relieved with every second.

But no, Dick corrects himself after a particularly gorgeous triple Axel sequence.

This isn’t a repeat of Nationals. This is better than Nationals. This is the skate of a life time. The best that Wally’s ever had.

And unlike Nationals, watching that skate does not bring tears of despair into Dick’s blue eyes, but tears of joy.

Tears of love.

Tears that Dick can no longer hold back when the all-too familiar lines of the chorus arise.

Birds go flying at the speed of sound

To show you how it all began

Birds came flying from the underground

If you could see it, then you'd understand

Ah, when you see it then you'll understand

Wally is having the skate of his life, and competition or not, Dick cannot think of a single person who’s ever deserved it more. From the father that abandoned him to the team event judges that cheated him, Wally has never given up. Has never lost the spark of hope and joy in his life. And right now, that spark is exploding into a firework of perfection in front of the whole wide world.

A firework of flashes.

As Wally transitions into his final spins, Dick knows in his heart of heart not only that he has never loved another person more than he loves Wally this very moment, but also that he has never loved skating more than he does right now. With such love in his heart, what does it even matter anymore if Dick beats or Wally, or if Wally beats Dick? There’s no medal in the world that would do justice to the love that Dick’s feeling in his heart right about now.

When the programme ends, the audience immediately jump to their feet and a roar so loud fills the arena it almost might have ruptured Dick’s ear drum – if Dick was not himself screaming at the top of his very own voice.

A gentle pat on his back by Victor Fries reminds him, though, that now it’s his own turn to take the ice. Knowing the motions by heart, Dick hands off his jacket to Selina and puts off his blade guards, while Wally is bathing in the standing ovation on the ice. When the ginger has bowed to all four sides of the arena, he skates towards the opposite end of the rink and Dick knows that it’s time.

Exhaling heavily, Dick steps onto the ice and begins rounding the rink a few times during which the jumbotron above his head is recapping the highlights of Wally’s transcendent skate.

In a normal competition, this would be the moment for Dick to collect and gather his thoughts, remind himself of the technical details that he’d need to pay particular attention to in his programme, and calculate how well he needs to do in order to get to the top.

But this is not a normal competition, Dick finds. Not just because it’s the Olympics. But because Dick is no longer afraid. Neither is it because Valentin has been beaten by André, nor because Wally will inevitably take over the lead when his score is announced. No. It's all because  Dick has well and truly fallen in love with skating again. Carol and Hal. André. And now Wally. These people have reminded Dick of the kind of skating that made him fall in love with this sport to begin with all these years ago, and now it’s back. Let the music take you away and skate like no one’s watching, Mr Fries had advised him after the send-off in Gotham.

And that’s exactly what I’ll do, Dick thinks with a quietly optimistic smile on his face as he skates back to the boards. While Dick is taking a last quick sip of water, Mr Fries asks him tentatively, “You okay, there, kiddo”?

“I’m good”, Dick answers honestly. “I just want to skate”, he adds, almost giddily. He gives the Romani elephant and the Flying Graysons elephant that his coaches are holding each a little squeeze.

“That’s our Boy Wonder”, Mr Fries laughs, patting Dick on the shoulder. Selina, meanwhile, in a suspiciously quivering voice, says, “Whatever happens, Dick, we’re so incredibly proud of you. Just go out there and skate, just how you love to do the most.”

“I will”, Dick nods confidently at her coach, who spontaneously jumps forward and engulfs Dick in a surprise hug.

“Your parents would be so proud”, Selina whispers tearfully into Dick’s ear.

“I know”, Dick replies, feeling a sudden lump in his own throat as he wraps his arms around his coach.

“The scores, please”, the voice of the announcer all of a sudden calls out, and Dick and Selina promptly pull apart and turn their heads to the jumbotron overhead, showing an excited Wally West and a nervous Barry Wallen as they await the imminent results.

The tell-tale hush falls over the arena, and thousands of people become dead-quiet for a long couple of seconds.

Then it happens.

“Wallace West from the United States of America has earned in the free skate 228.89 points, which is a new World record, and a total competition score of 343.12 points. He is currently in first place.”

“YES!!!!!!!!”, Dick screams unabashedly.

All at once, Wally and Barry jump to their feet, throwing their hands in the air before falling into each other’s arms. The audience cheer in appreciation, standing up once more to pay their respect to the new World record that they just witnessed.

Wally scored a new World record; Dick is so proud of his boyfriend he could almost cry. Almost – if it weren’t for the fact that now, the moment that Dick has spent years of his life working towards for has arrived. The moment that could change his life forever. The moment that may perhaps never come again.

My Olympic free skate.

Shifting his gaze from the jumbotron above to the actual Kiss & Cry on the other side of the rink, Dick searches for Wally’s green eyes. Dick does not care one bit if Wally’s World record means that he’s unbeatable. Of course, the competitive part of him wants to win. But Wally is his, and he is Wally’s, and so whatever happens in the next four and a half minutes, they’ve already won. Come what may.

After a couple of seconds, Wally’s green eyes, which are faintly shining with tears finally interlock with Dick’s blue ones, and the silent emotions that they transmit to each other transcend Dick’s capacity for words.

Respect.

Thankfulness.

Love.

With the most tender smile that Dick has ever seen on Wally’s face, the ginger simply nods, a gesture that Dick instinctively returns. The next second, he feels Victor Fries and Selina both clap his back and whisper into his ear in unison.

“But baxt.”

Without seeing their faces, Dick knows they are smiling, just as he is himself, remembering the tradition that his two coaches started on Dick’s very fist competition that they accompanied together.

The Romani words for ‘good luck’.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Dick can hear faint echoes of his parents’ voices in his coaches’ contrasting tones.

My parents who are watching me right now, wherever they are, and are smiling too.

Taking a deep breath, Dick opens his eyes again and pushes himself off the board, just in time for the words of the announcer.

“Our final skater represents the United States of America. RICHARD GRAYSON!”

Chapter Text

“The lake reposes in twilit moon shimmer, muffled waves strike the dark shore; gloomy wooded mountains rise and close off the holy place from the world; ghostly swans glide with whispering rustles on the tide, and an Aeolian harp sends down mysterious tones of lovelorn yearning from the ruins.”

As a child, Dick once read up on the origins of Beethoven’s iconic Moonlight Sonata, because he wanted to know about this piece that his mother loved so much. Back then, he was struck by a curious anecdote about the title. Far from being Beethoven’s invention, the phrase ‘moonlight sonata’ apparently goes back to a German poet and music critic named Ludwig Rellstab who allegedly compared the serene effect of the first movement of the iconic composition to the equally serene effect of moonlight shining on the surface of a nocturnal lake. Listening to the sonata – so the story goes – was apparently just like taking a boat and visiting the most remote parts of a vast lake like Switzerland’s Lake Lucerne by moonlight.

Years later, this anecdote resurfaces in Dick’s mind as he finally skates onto a serene lake of his own in the shape of the ice rink at the arena in Montreal to perform his Olympic free programme. In spite of all the energy in the air and the massive cheering from the crowd, Dick does feels serene. Strangely so, even. The second he let go of the boards and pushed himself away from his coaches, calmness took over his body. No nerves, no anxiety, just calmness and serenity. As if he were one of the ghostly swans in Rellstab’s story that softly rustle the tide of a moonlit lake. A ghostly swan in a black costume with blue rhinestoned wings extending from his chest down the length of his arms to his fingertips.

Rounding the rink, Dick majestically opens his arms towards the screaming audience and lets his gaze wander across the crowd. Amidst the cheering faces, he briefly spots the Romani family in one corner of the arena, and the Waynes in another. Dick smiles softly at the sight of his loved ones, but unlike some of his past skates where he wanted nothing more than to escape from the ice and run to them and beg them to take him away, today he knows that he’s right where he belongs. Not with his family and friends in the stands, but alone on the ice.

A ghostly swan on a lonely frozen lake.

Reaching the centre of the rink, Dick comes to a halt and assumes his opening position, standing upright and crossing his arms over his chest like the folded wings of a bird.

The cheering of the crowd quickly dies down, so much so that you could hear the drop of a pin in the massive building. The quiet is almost deafening, the quiet of a ten-thousand-strong audience who know that they might be about to witness a once-in-a-lifetime wonder.

A wonder only a Boy Wonder could deliver...

Unlike his free skate at Nationals, where Dick had to forcefully cast negative thoughts and feelings out of his brain at this very moment before the beginning of his programme, today the thoughtful smile on his face comes naturally. Today, he’s not a love-sick robin despairing over his unrequited love for the unreachable Wally West; today he is a ghostly swan and the ice his own holy place over which he shall glide and reign.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in.

Breath out.

The first heavy tones of the sombre piano music arise magically over the hushed silence of the arena, and the performance begins. Slowly, Dick uncrosses his arms and glides forward while simultaneously leaning backwards and opening up his arms, like a nocturnal bird unfolding his wings towards the moonlit sky. Rotating on the spot, Dick can feel his blade almost become one with the icy surface underneath, his knees bending deeper than ever before and his arms extending so gracefully they could almost envelope the entire arena in their sublime gestures. Years of training have prepared him for this note moment. At Haly's Circus, Robin learned how to rule the air; at Fries Academy, he was taught how to excell on the ice. Today, Robin is ready to spread his wings of the night against the backdrop of Beethoven's musical moonlight and master both, air and ice, all at ance.

With each opening note of the music, the transition from the fourth into the fifth bar comes closer and closer, and with that the element that will decide Dick’s fate. The element that will determine whether or not Dick Grayson will become the youngest Olympic champion in the history of men’s figure skating. Gathering speed with backward crossovers, Dick shifts onto his right foot to glide further backward.

I can do this, he vows quietly as his eyes gauge the ice ahead of him over his shoulder for the take-off into the quadruple Axel.

I will do this.

Like a swan spreading his wings, Dick opens up his body sideways to glide on an outside circle and then steps forward onto his left foot and kicks off his right free leg into the air. As if engulfed by a rush of wind, Dick’s body is raised high above the ice and his arms wrap themselves tightly around his chest.

Just like my parents used to do around me.

The world decelerates into slow-motion as Dick’s body begins to revolve around itself four and a half times. In less then a second, images flash before his eyes in a blurry thunderstorm of faces. A myriad of images of all the people that led and guided Dick to his very moment on the Olympic ice.

One.

The sweet wistfulness of his mother’s face every time she listened to Moonlight Sonata, and the unbridled happiness on his father’s face every time he scooped her up in his arms afterwards.

Two.

The gentle consoling smile on Bruce’s face when he wrapped his coat around Dick’s shivering shoulders the night that his parents died, letting Dick know without a single word that it would be alright and that the nightmare of that unspeakable day would not last forever.

Three.

The pride and excitement on Victor Fries’s and Selina’s faces when Dick won his first novice competition, realizing that they had a genuine prodigy an their hands.

Four.

The vulnerable yet hopeful smile on Wally’s face in the locker room at Nationals this year when he confessed his feelings for Dick.

Four and a half.

The little girl with her Romani sign, reminding Dick of his heritage and his proud identity.

The revolutions happen so fluidly that Dick barely notices his right skate connecting with the ice again, the blade cutting through the surface like a knife through soft butter, while his free leg extends gracefully and pointedly like a ballet dancer performing an arabesque.

He also does not notice the meteoric explosion of cheers in the packed audience at seeing an immaculately executed quadruple Axel on Olympic ice.

Nor does Dick process at all what he just did. The world around him has completely disappeared, leaving the 17-year-old boy all by himself in his own little world on the ice which he fills with grace and beauty, with sublimity and poignancy.

Every quadruple jump that he attempts – whether it’s the flip, the Lutz, the loop, or the Salchow – Dick executes them all with flawless ease. Every single quadruple jump in the repertoire of figure skating Dick not only attemps, but nails, sending the audience into an ever-increasing frenzy with every element. None of that breaks through to the raven-haired boy himself in the rink, though. The longer Dick moves on the ice, accentuating every minute nuance of Beethoven’s music in perfectly choreographed melancholy, the further he withdraws into his own little universe. It’s not like Dick is not performing, however. On the contrary. Dick is performing like he never has before. Yet. the difference to any other competition in the past is that today Dick is not performing for somebody else. Not for the judges. Not for his coaches. Not for the audience.

Today I’m only performing for myself, he muses silently as he transitions into a spread eagle. Gliding on both skates with his feet pointed outward and the heels turned inward towards each other, Dick yearnfully reaches out into the air as if his fingers could graze the moonlight shining down onto the surface of Lake Lucerne.

Close to the two-minute mark, the opening adagio part of the programme comes to a close, and suddenly Dick can hear the warm, soothing voice of his mum in his ear.

“Now fly, my little Robin!”

“I will, dey”, Dick replies in an unheard whisper.

The next second, the almost funereal pace of the adagio spirals into the musical cascade of the presto agitato middle section – and Dick EXPLODES.

This is by far his favourite part of the programme. A tempest of high-paced piano notes gathers in the agitated arena, filling every fibre of Dick’s body with unimaginable amounts of energy. This same energy Dick immediately transfers into his step sequence, a highly intricate series of moves and figures to showcase Dick’s unmatched control over a skating blade. It’s a perfect storm in the programme, a unique moment in which ultimate technical control meets reckless emotional and musical abandon.

Today, though, that abandoning becomes even more powerful than in the past. With every arm gesture that he throws out, Dick seems to be screaming without words, crying out to express all of the feelings that he’s been harbouring on the inside not just for months, but for years.

The tragic loss of his parents at just eight years of age.

The racial slurs that he had to suffer behind his back when Bruce adopted him.

The doubts about his abilities as a skater this past season.

Anger, frustration, defiance – everything comes suddenly rushing out of Dick’s heart and directly in his lighting-fast motions. At one particularly powerful note, he dominantly slams his blade into the ice and brings himself to a stop, even making momentary eye contact with a female judge on the panel, who appears taken aback with a visual gasp at the intensity of Dick’s gaze.

That’s right!, Dick wants to scream, You will not doubt me EVER AGAIN!

The more desperate the music grows, the more Dick feels himself become one with it too, remembering Mr Fries’s advice about letting the music take you away.

I am the music, he understands, as he performs a split leap in perfect synchronisation with the music, and the music is me.

Thus, Dick is completely prepared when the high-speed middle section of his programme approaches its end and he knows that it’s time for his three-jump sequence, the final jumping pass of his programme worth almost 20 points all by itself. Perfectly concentrated, Dick prepares for the entrance to the first of three jumps, and then he’s off.

Triple Lutz – check.

Triple Axel – check.

Triple toe loop – check.

Knowing that he could even have added a fourth jump onto the combination if he’d wanted to, Dick’s right blade hits the ice again just when the final note of the agitato section echoes through the arena and transitions in the slower adagio finale of the sonata programme. In the corner of his eyes he can vaguely see a shape that looks like Selina Kyle jump up and down, but makes nothing more of it, because his favourite choreographic move of the entire programme is yet to come: his Ina Bauer spiral.

Pointing his left skate forward while bending his knee slightly, his right leg maintains its backward direction, trailing his left leg and remaining straight, rather than bending. Meanwhile, Dick’s upper body is leaning back so far that his hands could almost touch the ice. To Dick, it’s one of the most beautiful and most balletic moves that figure skating has to offer. As he’s laying back into the glide, Dick can almost feel the melancholic notes of Beethoven’s music cascade onto his stretched torso as if they are little rain-like drops of moonlight – a moment of peace before Dick transitions into the spins that mark the last technical element of his programme.

In sync with the final notes of music, Dick goes through the concluding motions of choreography and eventually reaches his familiar finishing pose: on his knees, leaning forward and stretching his arms across the ice – a pilgrim, humbly prostrating himself at the icy altar of figure skating.

Once the final note has ended, Dick closes his eyes and breathes heavily, trying to get air back into his lungs. His mind goes completely blank, aside from one singular, solitary thought.

It’s over. It’s done.

With this one overwhelming realization in his mind, Dick remains unmoving, continuing to prostate himself exhaustedly on the ice. Only after a few seconds does he become aware of a wall of noise closing in on him from all sides. A deafening wall of noise. Raising his head and sitting up, Dick is perplexed to see that the entire audience has risen to their feet, clapping and screaming in a way Dick has never witnessed before at any figure skating event he has attended or watched on TV and showering stuffed elephants onto the ice.

One confused blink at a time, the reality of the situation returns to Dick’s awareness.

I’m at the Olympics, he almost has to remind himself silently. Where I just skated my free programme.

My … perfect … free programme, it begins to dawn in Dick’s head as the dimples on his face slowly turn upward into a tentative smile.

The euphoric standing ovation from the audience shows no sign of ending any time soon when Dick gingerly rises to his feet and politely bows to the four sides of the arena, almost embarrassed by the overflow of feeling (and stuffed animals) that he is earning.

Giving one last wave at the crowd, he skates towards the end of the rink under incessant cheering and surreal chants of “GRAYSON! GRAYSON!”, picking up a stuffed elephant that’s wearing a miniature version of his black-and-blue free skate costume on the way. He hasn’t reached the boards yet when he notices that Selina is shaking heavily and has her face buried her hands while even Mr Fries is looking suspiciously teary-eyed, holding Selina’s shoulders with his left arm.

Dick’s barely off the ice when the arms of his two coaches encircle him in a crushing hug, filling his ears with nothing but sobbing noises that gradually transform into intelligible words.

“I love you, Dickie”, Selina cries into his shoulder, clearly not caring about the camera man filming their reactions right now, “I love you so much. That was the most amazing skate I’ve ever seen”.

“Thank you, Dick”, Victor Fries simply concurs, in fewer but no less emotionally charged words. When the three bodies reluctantly disentangle from one another, Mr Fries grabs Dick by the shoulders, looks him firmly in the eyes, and adds “This is exactly what Nora had dreamed of for her school, so thank you for that. It means so much. We’re all so very proud of you. And so are your parents, I’m sure.”

Dick says nothing but merely nods, too overwhelmed by the unexpected swelling of emotions in his chest and the alarming sting behind his eyes.

The chants of “GRAYSON! GRAYSON” only grow louder as the three of them make their way over to the Kiss and Cry. Dick’s eyes search for his family in the crowd, but the adrenaline rushing through his body right now is making it too hard to focus.

When they sit down in the Kiss and Cry, Dick can feel himself starting to shake as one realization suddenly starts to dawn on him: he’s about to receive his scores any second now. His fate is about to be decided. The result of years of intense training, more than half his life dedicated to just one thing. Will it pay off in the end?

Watching the slow-motion recap of some of his elements on the screen in front of him, Dick is having an out-of-body experience. It’s like he’s watching a perfect stranger who just so happens to look exactly like him. Because that cannot possibly be him, right? That person who apparently just performed the most perfect quadruple Axel the world has ever seen?

“Was it enough?”, he hears himself whisper, barely audible against Selina's irrepressible sobbing on his left, and the unending cheering in the crowd.

“We’re about to find out”, Mr Fries says, grabbing Dick’s right hand and smiling optimistically at him while Selina grabs his other hand. Their free hands are clutching Dick’s other two stuffed elephants, the one dressed in the Flying Graysons outfit and the draped in the Romani colours. The third, the free-skate-themed elephant, is sitting on the the little table in front of them, right next to the all-important tissue box.

The recap ends, and the screen cuts to the leaders’ lounge, where André Blanc-Dumont and Wally West are currently sitting, both of them with distinctly watery shines in their eyes. Strikingly, the remaining seat that is reserved for the skater who's currently in third place, Valentin Streltsov, is empty, but Dick’s mind is far too concerned with his own imminent result to make any sense of it.

The only thing that he can pay attention to is Wally’s beautiful face. His beautiful ginger hair, his beautiful freckles and his beautiful emerald eyes that are welling up this very moment. Somebody else might interpret Wally’s emotional reaction as a response to the potential prospect of losing his all-but-assured gold medal at the very last moment. After all, how could he just skate a new World record – only to be beaten into second place mere minutes later? But Dick knows better. Wally isn’t crying for himself. He is crying for Dick, and for the performance that Dick just delivered – just as Dick could not help but cry for Wally’s performance only minutes prior.

Dick does not know who between the two of them has won Gold, but what he does know right now that he has never loved a single human being more than he loves Wally West this very instance.

“The scores, please”.

The ongoing cheering dies down in less than a second at the announcer’s words. Dick grips his coaches’ hands so hard he fears they might break and closes his eyes, breathing deeply to keep his racing heartbeat under control.

Everything’s going to be alright, a voice in his head that sounds like a surreal yet comforting blend of Bruce, Alfred, and his parents all at once, tries to sooth him. No matter what happens.

At the same time, another voice, this one sounding rather like that of his private teacher, Dr Nygma, slyly reminds him of Wally’s scores and that Dick needs at least 228.48 points to surpass him.

228.48 points and I’m Olympic champion.

The wait stretches on like an eternity, during which Dick and his coaches tighten their hold of each other’s hands almost to the breaking point.

After what feels like a millennium, the voice of the announcer returns.

“Richard Grayson from the United States of America has earned in the free skate 236 –”

Dick doesn’t even hear the end of the announcement. Instead, screams all around him pierce his ears as several arms trap him into an earthquake of hugs and trembling limbs. Overwhelmed by his senses, the 17-year-old has no clue if it takes him one millisecond or one decade to open his eyes again. But when he does, the truth is spelled out on the screen in front of him, in plain, unequivocal, unmistakable letters and numbers.

Richard Grayson.

USA.

Short programme score: 114.65. World record.

Free programme score: 236.21. World record.

Total competition score: 350.86. World record.

First place.

Olympic Champion.

I’ve … won.

From one moment to the next, the earthquake of trembling bodies all around him seems to take hold of his own chest, which begins to shake violently as the sting behind his blue eyes suddenly becomes too powerful to resist. A rapturous sob rips through his body, and he collapses forward into the saving arms of his coaches, burying his tearfully convulsing face in his hands.

When Dick manages to look up a minute later amidst the shared sobs of his coaches and their supportive hands on his back, the incomprehensible display on the screen is still there.

He’s still won?

He’s still Olympic champion?

This is still not a dream?!

Dick is about to cry out as much, but then he senses another pair of hands, these ones smaller than Mr Fries’ but larger than Selina’s, patting him on the back. Looking up, Dick finds none other than Wally standing above him, smiling more beautifully than ever before through the tears that are streaming down his cheeks.

“OOMPFH!”

Dick jumps up and crashes his body into Wally’s so quickly that he could give the ginger a run for his money regarding his nickname as the Flash. Even though Dick can just about hold back from kissing his boyfriend, he still wraps his arms fiercely around the other man, who returns the gesture, and sobs into his shoulder.

“Congratulations, Dickiebird”, Wally whispers hoarsely into Dick’s ear, while running soothing hands over his still trembling shoulders. “Now you’re not just a robin, but also a golden-breasted-starling, emphasis on gold.”

A shaking erupts in Wally’s own body, but this one comes from Dick’s tearful burst of laughter. Finally, the Boy Wonder lifts up his head to meet his boyfriend’s gaze. “Will you ever stop being corny, Wally West? Ever?!”

“Well”, Wally shrugs cheekily, “it was either this or ‘We did it, Joe!’, but in the end the birdiness of it all won the day.” With a wink, he adds, “Just like it did at the Olympics”.

Giggling, Dick throws his arms around Wally one more time, before remembering that his coaches are still right there with him – not to mention a camera man filming them eagerly. Reluctantly, then, Dick lets go of his rival-turned-boyfriend and waves at the camera with the elephant dressed in the costume of his free skate that he picks up, before turning to his coaches and engulfing them in yet another big hug.

One by one, the area between the Kiss and Cry booth and the boards fills up with people as the flower’s ceremony on the ice is getting prepared. Usually, the skaters do not receive their actual medals until a proper event the following evening, held in public at the Olympic Plaza, right in the centre of Montreal. The arena events traditionally conclude with a ceremony where the medallists are instead given a large bouquet of flowers and stuffed version of the Olympic mascot – a snowy owl this time – while the winner’s national anthem is played and their flag is raised.

Yet, since the men’s discipline is the last figure skating event of the Games and the exhibition gala at which the medallists are invited to perform their show programmes is already scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, organizers have made an exception and will give the men their medals in the arena.

Barry Allen soon joins the four of them, immediately embracing and congratulating Dick, followed by an ecstatically smiling Andé Blanc-Dumont and his coach Paul Miller, an incredibly handsome man in his early 40s with luscious black curls.

“Oh my god, you did it!”, André calls out excitedly and wraps his arms around a visibly flustered Dick Grayson.

I could die a happy man, now, Dick muses almost deliriously, breathing in the scent of his long-time crush and idol, feeling their bodies so close together. Before any awkwardness can arise, though, André pulls back and he proceeds to hug Wally, too. “You guys were just incredible”, the Frenchman addresses the US skaters, full of sincere admiration. “That Moonlight Sonata was the best skate I’ve ever seen.”

“Ever”, Wally agrees proudly in Dick’s direction.

“Yeah, well”, Dick starts, rubbing the back of his raven-haired head bashfully, “I don’t think I could have done it if I hadn’t seen the two of you before me. Especially you.” Dick points at André. “You reminded me of what skating is supposed to be like, so, merci”, Dick finishes with a little smile.

“C'était mon honneur”, André bows a little in response.

His eyes still locked on the gorgeous Frenchman, Dick suddenly remembers that there was actually still another skater in the mix for the podium.

“What happened with Valentin?”, Dick asks. “He wasn’t with you in the leaders’ lounge, was he?

“He was”, Wally smirks, “but not for long”.

“After his free skate”, André explains, unable to suppress a satisfied smirk himself, “he was so furious that his coaches had to force him to even sit down in the lounge at all. He managed to keep a straight face, no pun intended” – both Dick and Wally guffaw at that side remark – “during Wally’s free, but when you landed the quad Axel, he threw a complete fit and stormed off.”

“Welp”, Wally concludes, popping the ‘p’ for extra sassiness, “I hope he won’t let the door hit him him on the way out.”

“Be gentle with him, Wally”, Dick fake-rebukes him, “I’m sure his back must still be sore from all those falls”.

André explodes with laughter, while Wally just gives Dick’s shoulder a little fist pump and snickers, “You shady little Olympic champion”.

Before he can stop himself, Dick adds, “Maybe Valentin should have left the Axel to those who can actually jump it”, and winks at Wally, rejoicing in the shared understanding of Dick’s little conspiracy that ultimately proved correct and did indeed unravel Valentin’s chances.

For the next few minutes, the skaters and coaches remain so busy exchanging hugs and congratulations that they all startle when suddenly a triumphant fanfare announces the beginning of the medals ceremony.

Ushered along by volunteers, André, Wally, and Dick line up at the boards where a red carpet has been unrolled for the non-skaters. The carpet leads from the board towards a white podium in the middle of the ice. The skaters, however, take off their blade guards and one after another skate out towards the podium, bathing in showers of applause and cheers from the crowd.

“Third place, Olympic bronze medallist, representing France: André Blanc-Dumont!”

Dick and Wally cheer loudly when André is first called onto ice. His brown hair flows ethereally as he skates towards centre ice and ascends the bronze position, and Dick wonders whether any human has ever been closer to aesthetic perfection than the 22-year-old from Montpellier. To make the moment even more perfect than it already is, André’s awarding is accompanied by an excerpt from his free skate music.

Right before it’s his turn, Wally throws a quick glance over his shoulder at Dick and squeeze the younger boy’s hand. Neither of them says anything, but neither of them needs to. The gentleness shared between their eyes and their fingers says it all.

Then, Wally turns back towards the ice and the widest grin he’s ever worn pops up on his face, casting any doubts about him being disappointed at yet another second place to the wind.

“Second place, Olympic silver medallist, representing the United States of America: Wallace West!”

Dick screams extra loudly this time, his heart close to bursting with pride and joy at the sight of his boyfriend climbing the Olympic podium to Coldplay’s ‘Speed of Sound’. Not too long ago, Dick would have felt a certain sense of self-satisfaction at having beaten the great Wally West into second place at the Olympics. But that Dick Grayson no longer exists. He’s been replaced by a new Dick Grayson. A kinder Dick Grayson. A more thoughtful Dick Grayson.

A Dick Grayson who would gladly trade every medal he has ever won to ensure that the man he loves always stays as happy as he is this very moment.

Finally, the announcer’s voice comes back one last time, calling out words that Dick has imagined and dreamed of hearing millions of times. Hearing them live and in person, though, followed by a musical reprise of Moonlight Sonata, sends an unimaginable shiver down his quivering spine.

“First place, Olympic gold medallist, representing the United States of America: Richard Grayson!”

Taking a deep breath, Dick steps onto the ice and skates towards the centre, waving at the cheering crowd of people in the stands and spotting all the familiar faces of his loved ones again. Bruce and Talia, holding Damian together and hugging each other. Jason and Tim, screaming and jumping wildly up and down like human-sized gummi bears. Alfred, wiping away tears on his cheeks with a handkerchief dotted with Union Jacks that Dick once gave him for his birthday. Next to him is the flaming red hair of Barbara Gordon, sobbing violently as his father is holding her tight. Close by, Dick spots several of his US team mates. Kory and Roy. Megan and Conner. Harley. Carol and Hal.

Everybody has gathered to share this once-in-a-lifetime moment.

A moment that I never thought might happen, not too long ago, Dick remembers in memory of the turbulent season that he’s had.

Dick cannot wait to celebrate with all of his loved ones. But before that, there’s one thing that he still needs to do. One thing, without which his Olympics will not be complete.

When he reaches the other side of the podium, Dick climbs onto the highest pillar in the middle, closing his eyes for a second to let the moment sink in. Then, he first steps over to André on his left, leans down and gives him a thorough hug. Lastly, Dick turns to his right and moves towards Wally, and bows down towards him. Closing his arms around Wally, Dick briefly shuts his eyes, too, and wishes that this moment could last forevermore.

Afterwards, the current president of International Skating Union, Michael Demiurgos, a tall, broad-shouldered man with tousled blond hair, walks down the red carpet towards the podium to award the top three skaters their flowers, the Olympic mascot, and most importantly their medals. Being last in line, Dick watches in fascination how an expression of awe and humility overcomes first André’s and then Wally’s faces as the blue ribbons with the shining medals are hung around their necks.

Finally, it’s Dick turn. His breath quickening, Dick bows as elegantly as possible towards Michael Demiurgos, who solemnly hangs the gold medal around Dick's neck before shaking his hand and giving him the mascot and the bouquet of flowers. As he accepts all of it gracefully, Dick is surprised at just how heavy the gold medal feels around his neck.

A heaviness I could get used to, though, he muses giddily.

The audience then are asked to rise for the National Anthem of the USA. Dick closes his eyes and places his right hand over his heart, but does not sing along. It’s not that Dick isn’t proud of his country or his nationality, but growing up as a queer immigrant orphan and facing his fair share of racist discrimination has given him a complex relationship towards patriotism. Nonetheless, Dick does open his eyes and at least mouths along to the final lines of the anthem.

O’er the land of the free

and the home of the brave

Today I showed the world how free and brave I truly am, Dick sums up the day proudly  while the words of the anthem resonante in his head, but there’s still one more act of bravery left to perform.

When André and Wally join Dick on the first-place step for the medallists’ photos, Dick’s eyes lock onto Wally’s, and he immediately knows that his ginger-haired boyfriend is having the exact same flashback as Dick.

Stockholm Worlds last year. The first time Dick ever had to take a medallists’ photo together with Wally in second place and Dick himself in first. It was at that moment that Dick first felt it. The deep, consuming need to press their lips together.

Back then it had felt like a ridiculous daydream. Nothing more than the silly infatuation of a hormonally confused teenage boy.

But now, that imagination is no longer ridiculous. Nor is it a dream any more.

It’s real, and it’s true, Dick knows. And judging by the bright shine of the ginger’s green eyes, Wally knows it, too.

We’ve won. And nobody can take this away from us. Ever.

“You ready, Flash?”, Dick asks, taking hold of the silver medal around Wally’s neck and pulling him closer with one hand while wrapping the other around Wally’s shoulders.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Robin”, Wally answers, reciprocating the gesture and bringing Dick closer by his gold medal.

And so, with smiles so bright they could illuminate the whole wide world that’s watching them right now, Dick and Wally lean into each other, close their eyes, and kiss.

Chapter Text

If the mood in the arena was electric just from the competition, then it downright escalates into borderline atomic the moment that Dick’s and Wally’s lips touch. Excited cheers explode all around the arena, and when Dick draws back and catches André’s expression over his shoulder, the Frenchman’s smirk and his cat whistle all but scream “I KNEW IT!”.

The medallists’ photoshoot on the podium is over in no time, and before he knows it, Dick finds himself back on the ice for the victory lap together with Wally and André, waving at the thousands of fans in the arena, many of whom have come down to the lower levels of the stands to be closer to the athletes. Among them, Dick spots the Romani family again he’d noticed earlier and glides towards them. The girl’s hesitant smile widens in excitement when she realizes that Dick is approaching them and covers her mouth with the Romani flag in her hands as if having to stop herself from screaming out loud.

“Hello”, Dick smiles when he stops by the girl and the two adults beside her, “nice flag!”

“Thank you”, the girl manages to say with a slight yet adorable accent.

“I’m Dick, by the way”, he continues, holding out his right hand.

The girl stares at his hand in disbelief for a moment, before accepting it with her own and shaking it gingerly. “Zina”, she giggles. “And these are my parents, Malina and Patrin”.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you”, Dick extends his hand shake to Zina’s parents too, who also accept it graciously.

“The pleasure is all ours, Mr Grayson”, Malina, Zina’s mum, answers, “congratulations on your win. It’s so well deserved. Your skate tonight was incredible.”

“Please do call me ‘Dick’”, the Boy Wonder laughs. “But thank you anyway. I don’t think it would have been possible without your presence here in the arena.”

“Really?!”, Zina asks, confused and excited all at once.

“Seeing you here, with the Romani flag – it reminded me of my heritage and where I’ve come from. My free skate was kind of a tribute to my family anyway, especially my mom, so when I spotted your flag in the audience, it gave me even more energy to skate my best and make my family proud.”

“You certainly did that, Dick”, Patrin congratulates him in a tone that sounds eerily close to his father’s voice in Dick’s memory.

“And so because of that”, Dick quickly starts, trying to blink the sudden sting in his eyes away”, I was wondering if you any of you had a phone with you, so that we might take a selfie together. I’d love to share it on my Instagram if you could send it to me, later.”

“YES!”, Zina exclaims, passing the flag to her parents so that she can retrieve a little phone from the inside pocket of her jacket.

A few seconds later, the selfie of Dick, Zina, Malina, and Patrin – all smiling like there’s no tomorrow and framed by the colours of the Romani flag – is shot.

“Great, thank you so much!”, Dick says, handing the phone back to Zina. “Do have Instagram?”

“Yes, I do!”, she replies beamingly.

“Perfect”, Dick grins, “I don’t have my phone with me right now, but if you follow me there, I’ll follow you back. Then you can DM me the photo, and I’ll post and tag you in it, okay?”

“Okay”, Zina answers breathily, looking like she’s having the greatest day of my life.

“Cool!” With a sideway glance, Dick notices than Wally and André have already moved on a bit, so he turns towards the family and sighs, “I’m afraid I’ll have to go. But it was an honour meeting you, and I truly hope we’ll stay in touch!” Leaning forward, Dick gives Zina a quick hug, before skating back towards the other two medallists.

“Another contender for your heart, Boy Wonder=”, Wally grins when Dick catches up with him. “Should I be concerned?”

“No need to be concerned”, Dick replies, somewhat bashfully. Interlocking their fingers, Dick squeezes Wally’s hand and adds, “there’s only one contender for my heart, and he’s already won it.”

“Geeze”, Wally laughs, “and you’re calling ME corny.” Nonetheless, he squeezes Dick’s hand right back, making the 17-year-old wish that this moment of being on Olympic ice, circling around the rink for the victory lap and holding hands with Wally could never end.

When the victory lap does end, though, Dick, Wally and André are ushered backstage, where they are quickly crowded by all kinds of officials and delegates. Towering among them like a human colossus are the dark hair, irresistible dimples and broad, leather-clad shoulders of none other than Clark Kent, who rushes towards them and hugs Dick and Wally one after another. “Congratulations to the both of you!!!”, he almost sings with a beaming smile. “That was an Olympic finish for the ages!”

“It really was,” Wally agrees.

With a crooked smirk, Clark bumps his fist against Dick’s left arm and adds, “And I’m not just referring to the competition. You really do know how to give people a show, don’t you, Boy Wonder? Diana just texted me that apparently #birdflash apparently is the number one hashtag on Twitter. Worldwide.”

“Well, what can I say,”, Dick shrugs cheekily, “you can take the boy out of the circus, but you can’t take the circus out of the boy.”

“In that case”, Clark goes on, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eye brows pointedly, “you two love birds better get ready to step into the ring all over again for the press conference, ‘cause those reporters have some questions.”

Not too long ago, the prospect of facing avid reporters, drilling them about their relationship, might have drained the colour from their faces, but today Dick and Wally just look at each other and nod encouragingly. Turning back to Clark, Dick counters, “bring it on. I was raised under the rule of Alfred Pennyworth. If some reporters think they can intimidate me, they have another thing comin’.”

True to Clark’s promise, in the press conference just a few minutes later, Dick and Wally are indeed bombarded with questions about their relationship. It seems as if their kiss after the men’s free skate is sparking just as much interest from the assembled press as the free skate itself. The two lovers playfully deflect most of the invasive questions, politely reminding the reporters that this press conference is about the men’s single skate event, and not about where they met or how long they’ve been dating and whether they are aware of the laws regarding underage sex.

One particular question about their relationship Dick does answer, though, partly because it comes from Lois Lane, who Dick knows is Clark Kent’s wife, and partly because it strikes him as one of the more reasonable and measured ones.

“Why did you choose this of all moments to reveal your relationship to the public?”, Lane asks.

Dick thinks for a moment, then answers, “Wally and I have wanted to go public with our relationship for a while, but to be honest, the sport has been holding us back. At the end of the day, figure skating is a judged sport, after all, and regardless of how far we’ve come as a society, the past season has unfortunately shown that there are still some backward sentiments, even among the people in the skating world.”

A rustle goes through the crowd of journalists, most of whom, Dick suspects, are probably scribbling down the name ‘Valentin Streltsov’ right now.

“Therefore”, Dick continues, “Wally and I did not want to risk our chances at the podium by revealing our relationship and feeding into certain misguided perceptions that people may have. However, now that our season is over and my eighteenth birthday is just a few weeks away, we see no reason to hide the truth any longer. I love my family with every fibre of my being. My dad, my brothers Jay, Tim, and Dami, Alfred, and Talia. And now Wally belongs to that group too.”

Dick reaches out his right hand towards Wally’ left and gives it an affectionate squeeze, causing a storm of flashes from the photographers.

“If you say that your season is over”, Lois Lane shrewdly picks up from Dick’s statement, “does this mean that your season is truly over and we will not see you at the World Championships in St Petersburg next month?”

“For me yes”, Dick answers firmly, “I’m not going to Worlds this year, and probably not next year either. After this past season, I definitely need a break from competitions. How long that break will be, I cannot say. I want to do tours, but I also still have my eyes set on the next Olympic Games in Sapporo in four years, so we’ll see.”

“And as for me”, Wally begins once Dick has finished speaking, “I’m also skipping Worlds and taking a break. But…”, he briefly stops, looking at Dick who gives him a subtle, yet supportive nod. Then he goes on. “…But, my break will be a more permanent one, I guess.” Several reporters gasp. “Which is a long way of me saying that I’m retiring from competitive skating. My goal as a skater has always been to make it to the Olympics. I’ve invested my life into reaching that goal. Four years ago, it didn’t work out, but this year it did, and I could not be happier about it. I’ve achieved everything that I could ever dream of, so now I feel like it’s time to achieve and fulfil other dreams beyond my sport too.”

“Are you disappointed that you’re finishing your competitive career without an Olympic gold medal?”, one eager journalist from the back quickly interjects.

“While I may not have become an Olympic champion myself”, Wally replies with a careful smile on his lips, “I can tell you that kissing an Olympic champion is just as good as being one yourself.”

Laughter along with some whistles erupts from the press and from the other two skaters on the podium, and Dick must fight with all strength he has not to lean over and kiss Wally right then and there.

Unsurprisingly, another talking point of the press conference is Valentin Streltsov, especially his controversial behaviour after his free skate.

One reporter wants to know from Wally what went through his mind when Valentin stormed off during Dick’s performance.

“To me, it was deeply disrespectful, towards André and myself, but most of all towards Dick, who was having the performance of his life. We’re athletes; losing is part of the game. We may not like that, but accepting it is part of what it means to behave in a sportsmanlike manner. Although, looking at Valentin’s actions and comments this past season, I can’t really say that I’m all that surprised, unfortunately.”

André is asked whether he expected to end up on the podium after skating a personal best in the free programme.

“To be honest, I did not”, the Frenchman answers truthfully. “Even though I was super proud of my performance, I knew that there were still four skaters coming after me and what they were all capable of. And based on what I’d seen from the four of them here in Montreal so far, there was no reason to expect any one of them to implode like Valentin did. I would have been perfectly fine if I’d stayed in fifth place; my skate felt like a victory to me. Even after Valentin’s skate was over, I still expected him to place ahead of me. But to win a medal in the end and to share the podium with these two fine gentlemen is truly the proudest moment of my career.”

“Do you feel any particular satisfaction in beating Valentin Streltsov after the comments he made about you this season?”

André briefly pauses as Dick flinches ever so slightly at the painful memory of Valentin bragging about crushing “that French f*ggot” at the European Championships just a few weeks ago.

“I don’t necessarily believe in karma”, André replies eventually, the faintest hint of a smirk playing along his lips, “but after what that person said, it does feel very nice indeed to have three queer athletes on the podium”.

And him in fourth place, Dick can all but hear André’s unspoken addition and smirks himself.

The final question goes to Dick.

“Now that you’re the youngest Olympic champion in the history of men’ skating, what do you hope will your victory mean to other young aspiring skaters?”

Dick thinks for a moment to find the right words, fully aware of the importance of the question, but also still in slight disbelief at being called “the youngest Olympic champion in the history of men’ skating”.

“I think I speak for all three of us”, he finally begins thoughtfully, “when I say that skating is such a great way of expressing yourself. Sure, it’s a sport with all kinds of technical requirements and gruelling competitive pressure and so on. But at the heart of it, we do what we do, because we love to skate and to express ourselves creatively in motion and music on the ice – at least that’s what I wanted to do with my two programmes this season. So, I’m incredibly grateful that all my hard work paid off tonight, and I hope that this will inspire other kids out there to follow in my footsteps.” Quickly looking left and right, Dick adds, “Our footsteps.”

“Hear hear”, Wally commends him.

“Well said”, André agrees.

***

Dick has suffered several injuries throughout his career as a figure skater, some of them major, some of them minor, and has fallen onto the ice more times than he can count. But never, to his recollection, has his body felt so overwhelmingly crushed as when Bruce Wayne tackles him into a bearhug roughly an hour later – only for Tim and Jason to tag themselves onto them a second later, turning the four of them into a heap of hugging arms and sobbing torsos.

“I’m so proud of you, Chum”, Dick faintly perceives his father cry throughout the cluster of noise, “so incredibly proud of you. And I know that Mary and John are too.”

When the four of them pull apart after what feels like forever, Dick takes a closer look at the faces of his father and brother and spots how deeply red and rimmed their eyes all are, as if they have not stopped crying one second since Dick finished his free skate. The sight alone makes Dick emotional all over again.

“We’re all so proud of you, Dickie”, Jason manages to say. “Yeah”, Tim chimes in with a giggle, “so proud that you even made Alfred swear.”

“No way!”, Dick gasps, turning towards the butler who now approaches behind Bruce together with Talia and Damian in her arms, the smile of the proudest grandfather in the world on his face.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Master Richard”, Alfred defends himself, “but if I see a job ‘bloody well done’, then I have every bloody right to call it a job ‘bloody well done’, too. And that free skate, “now he wraps his long arms around Dick who instantly reciprocates the gesture, “was a job bloody well done if ever I have seen one. Congratulations, my dear dear boy”.

“Thank you, Alfred”, Dick responds breathlessly, his mind replaying the words Alfred said that one night when the two of them were having before Nationals.

“If you put your emotions on the ice, the audience and the judges will feel them too. And perhaps even Wallace West”.

Typical, Dick laughs in silent fondness, correct on all accounts, Master Pennyworth.

Next, Talia gives Dick a semi-hug while also trying to keep Damian from climbing all over his big brother’s head.

“This one”, she nudges her head at Damian, “was wriggling so wildly during your skate, I was afraid he might start doing jumps and flips all by himself.”

“Oh did he now?“, Dick laughs, placing a kiss on the giggling toddler‘s crown of dark hair. Damian, meanwhile, is reaching for Dick’s gold medal as if he’s found his favourite new toy. “I see we might have another future Olympian in the family, huh?”

Another voice peaks up that moment.

“He’ll have some big shoes to fill if he wants to be as good as his brother.”

Recognizing that voice instinctively, Dick whirls around on the spot to face Barbara Gordon and instantly throws himself around the red-haired woman’s neck.

“Babs! You made it!”

“I could say the same to you, Boy Wonder”, Barbara winks when they pull apart, barely trying to hide the tearful gleam in her eyes. “Or should I say, Boyfriend Wonder?”

“I learned from the best”, Dick winks right back at his best friend, remembering his earliest conversations with Babs about his apparently not-so-secret crush on Wally.

“Congratulations, Dick”, Barbara’s father adds, walking up behind her wheelchair and hugging Dick himself.

“Thank you, Jim”, Dick replies gratefully. “How was the flight? Did everything go smoothly?”

“Not as smoothly as we would have liked”, James Gordon sighs somewhat tiredly.

“Dad still had some last-minute work stuff to take care of”, Barbara explains for him “and then our flight got delayed, but we still reached the arena in time for the final two groups.”

“I’m so glad”, Dick beams at the two of them, both glad and relieved. “I’m not sure what I would have done without you here.” Looking at the rest of his family one by one, he adds, “All of you.”

“Speaking of doing things”, Barbara interjects to lighten the mood, sensing another collective wave of tears swelling up, “where’s the party at, Boy Champion? What have you got planned to celebrate?”

“Well, I’m afraid I still have some interviews to give”, Dick replies, “but after that, there’ll be a huge reception at Team USA House with all skaters. And of course, there’s the Gala exhibition tomorrow, after which there’s another reception planned apparently.”

“And what can we expect from your performance at the Gala?”, Talia asks. “Anything special that you have planned?”

Dick just grins suggestively.

“A magician never reveals his tricks.”

***

The thumping beat of Britiney Spears’ ‘Gimme more’ rocks the Montreal Arena, where Jade Nguyen and Thomas Black are currently on the ice, performing their exhibition programme. It’s Gala time, and even though the two ice dancers from Canada ‘only’ won bronze, their home status means that they are running close to the end of the show, to keep the audience engaged.

The very final slot before the group finale, however, has been given to Dick, who’s currently standing close to the boards, joking, dancing, and goofing around with several other skaters, including Wally and Roy. Atmosphere is exuberant and cheerful, like a graduation party with a bunch of theatre kids at the end of high school – only that it’s happening on the ice, and that there are currently no resentful homophobes from Russia around to sour the mood.

Taking a break from faithfully singing along to Britney B*tch, Roy throws his arm for the umpteenth time since the men’s free skate around Dick’s shoulder, looks back and forth between Dick and Wally, and calls out over the music, “My word, Dickiebird, you really lucked out this time, didn’t ya? You go to the Olympics, you win the biggest price in the game, AND you get a medal too!”

Wally bursts out laughing, while Dick just rolls his eyes. “Don’t objectify Wally like that!” Dick’s lowkey surprised Roy has any voice left, considering how incessantly he screamed and cried last night to celebrate Dick and Wally’s double win.

“You’re right!”, Roy corrects himself apologetically. “After all, he’s still only the second-prettiest ginger in the building, mind you. Third, actually, now that Babs is here, too.”

“Your taste level, Roy Harper, remains questionable, as always”, Dick shoots back at his skating brother.

“Not questionable enough for you not to copy it, though”, Roy smirks. “You wanna give the gays everything they want tonight, huh, Twink Wonder?”. Wriggling his brows, Roy’s eyes wander along Dick’s body, making the 17-year-old blush.

After much back and forth earlier this morning, Dick finally decided to wear his Roy-inspired leather pants for the exhibition performance. The trousers feel incredible on his skin, the faux leather giving him enough flexibility to skate while also looking authentic enough to pass as real leather. Furthermore, the amounts of compliments Dick has received since walking out of dressing-room in the black shiny pants has been staggering, making Dick wonder: has my butt always looked so, uhm, voluminous? To which Babs could have answered, “Yes, Butt Wonder!”

Yet Dick decided to go even one step further, pairing the black leather pants with a rainbow-coloured Flying Graysons shirt that Barbara had brought along. “My best friend senses told me that some kind of announcement might be happening here, so I came prepared”, Barbara explained when she handed the shirt to a flabbergasted Dick at breakfast this morning. “If you turn the Olympics into a Birdflash coming-out party”, she smirked, “you might as well go all the way.”

And of course, as always, she was right, so here Dick is, standing by the boards in a rainbow-coloured Flying Graysons shirt and black leather pants, ready to be invited onto the ice as Olympic gold medallist and perform his exhibition programme.

“I think you took care of the gays in your short programme well enough”, Dick counters at last, remembering Roy’s own leather-pants and his tank top made out of red see-through mesh. “Though I might have taken some inspiration from you”, Dick adds with a bashful smile.

“Lucky for you, my little Bird, ya boi Roy is never wrong,”, Roy grins, giving Dick’s leather-clad thighs a little slap that makes the younger boy yelp in surprise. “Although I must admit that your trophy husband is giving you a run for your money in terms of iconic looks.”

Now it’s Dick’s turn to laugh and Wally’s turn to blush – Wally who’s still dressed in the Varsity jacket from his junior High School Musical programme that he actually performed earlier in the show after Dick seduced/persuaded him to last night at the reception.

“Well”, Wally shrugs amiably, looking at Dick in loving eyes, “when Dick Grayson puts on his puppy dog eyes and begs for something, it’s hard to say no.”

“Don’t I know it, Wallster”, Roy exclaims like a cranky old man, throwing his other arm around Wally yet again, “don’t I know it.”

When Jade and Thomas finish their programme, it’s finally Dick’s turn. Before Dick steps onto the ice, he looks at Wally one last time and the two exchange a knowing nod, then he pushes himself off the boards to the words of the announcer and the deafening cheers of the audience.

“Finally, please welcome onto the ice the gold medallist in the men’s single skating event. From the United States of America, Richard Grayson!”

Dick feels like his face has never smiled more broadly than tonight as he skates out toward centre ice. The hiding and deception are finally over. Tonight, the world is seeing him as he truly is, and it fills him with unspeakable emotions.

Joy. Relief. And most of all pride.

The audience still has not calmed down by the time Dick reaches the middle of the rink and assumes his opening pose, lying down with his back against the ice. The cold of the frozen surface is a startling contrast to the heat and adrenaline pumping through his body right now, but for the next few minutes, that contrast is exactly what Dick needs.

A soft thump in the rhythm of a quick heart beat arises through the speakers, followed shortly by almost orchestral-sounding synthesizers. Dick’s body comes to life in sync with the music, his chest beginning to rise off the ice together with the heart beats. Once he’s fully upright, and the familiar voice of Lady Gaga echoes through the arena, Dick begins his choreography full-on.

There ain't no reason you and me should be alone

Tonight, yeah, baby, tonight, yeah, baby

But I got a reason that you should take me home tonight

When Gaga’s line ends, Dick’s right arm points to the boards, where Wally is standing, shining bright in the spot light and immediately rushing out onto the ice towards Dick.

If the audience was loud before, Dick fears that the roof of the arena is about to collapse from the thunderous roar when the spectators realize that they are about to witness Dick Grayson and Wally West skating together.

During the next lines of the verse, Dick remains rooted to the spot as Wally dances around just watching, smiling like the biggest idiot in the world and wondering if this is actually real life.

I need a man that thinks it right when it's so wrong

Tonight, yeah, baby, tonight, yeah, baby

Right on the limit's where we know we both belong tonight

It was Dick’s idea to not only reprise his old Lady Gaga programme for the Olympic exhibition, but to bring out Wally onto the ice, too. Ever since they started dating, Dick knew that if he were to win the Olympics and Wally would share the podium with him, this would be their celebratory moment together. The ultimate triumph over any and all obstacles on their way there.

And it is all because the words that Wally said to Dick after their first kiss at Nationals this year, when Dick was so completely distraught by his free skate.

Words that now echo through Dick’s head again as he watches Wally skate around him, looking like the cutest high school jock the world has ever seen.

“Your Lady Gaga programme two years ago, the one that you won your second Junior Worlds with. When you skated to 'The Edge of Glory', you were just – so joyous and vibrant and in the moment. I’d never seen anyone exude so much happiness to be alive as you did in that programme and I just wanted to jump through the screen of my TV and be with you on the ice and hug you.”

And now here they actually are, together on the ice, and when the programme is over, Dick will make sure to give Wally the greatest hug he has ever received.

When the song transitions into the bridge, Dick and Wally start doing cross-overs together, gathering speed for the inevitable jump that will take them into the chorus

It's hot to feel the rush

To brush the dangerous

Dick steals a quick look over at Wally. The ginger-head looks like the happiest guy in the world as he does what he does best – gathering speed and being the fastest man alive on the ice – and all that Dick can think in this moment is that he loves Wally West so freaking much and that the next lyrics of Lady Gaga’s song were literally written just for the two of them.

I'm gonna run right to

To the edge with you

Where we can both fall far in love

I am gonna run to the edge of the world with you, Wally, because I love you.

As the pitches Lady Gaga’s voice climbs higher and higher, Dick and Wally simultaneously switch from a forward into a backward glide.

I'm on the edge

They smash their left toe-picks onto the ice –

of glory

 – and take off into two perfectly synchronised quadruple toe loops, eventually landing back on their right blades and transitioning in perfect harmony out of the jumps as if they’ve never done anything else in life but skating together and jumping side-by-side.

The nerdy part of Dick’s brain briefly wonders if this was the first side-by-side quad jump in the history of figure skating? He does not know for certain, but it could very well be.

For the rest of the chorus, Dick and Wally alternate between synchronised movements taken from Dick’s original choreography and performing side-by-side spins as Lady Gaga repeatedly sings the words ‘the edge’ until the chorus and the boys’ spins come to a close and the two directly point at each other.

I'm on the edge with you

The following instrumental break transforms into a fun skate-off between Dick and Wally, challenging each other to ever-more daring jumps, steps, and spins while the thumping beat and the striking saxophone of the music drive the enthusiastically clapping audience into a wild frenzy. At last, the chorus kicks in again, and Dick and Wally once again take off into another quadruple toe loop with e perfectly timed toe pick on the word ‘edge’. Dick and Wally reprise the choreography from the first chorus, competing with each other for the most ecstatic grin on the ice, and when the two boys fall into each other’s’ arms and lips at the end of the programme, the audience completely lose their collective mind.

Dick makes no move to let go of Wally, savouring the taste of the ginger’s lips as the meteoric ovation from the crowd goes on an on. This is it, he thinks. This really is the edge of glory. The happiest moment of my life. And I’m sharing it with the boy I love.

When Dick slowly feels his oxygen reserves run short, he pulls back and stares into the gorgeous green of Wally’s eyes, and the magic words leave his lips like the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you, Wally.”

Is that a watery shine glimmering in Wally’s emerald eyes?, Dick suddenly wonders, perceiving against the thunderous roar of the spectators a noise from Wally that sounds suspiciously close to a sob.

Or maybe it’s just the sting behind my own eyes and the sob bubbling in my own throat?

Either way, the only thing that matters is the response that Wally whispers to Dick a second later, a response more precious than any gold medal in the world.

“I love you, too, Dickiebird.”

Chapter Text

Three years later

“He’s a two-time World champion and the reigning Olympic champion as well the only skater in history to have landed a quadruple Axel in competition. This season, he already won the Grand Prix Final and US Nationals, and he’s currently in first place. Representing the United States of America, RICHARD GRAYSON!”

Dick waves at the ever enthusiastic and ever packed crowd in the Saitama arena as he circles around the rink. No country is more passionate about figure skating than Japan, which makes competing here extra special. Yet today of all days, the day of the men’s free skate at the World Championships, Dick’s grateful smile at the cheering spectators feels a little more forced than usual. A little less sincere.

And it’s been starting to feel that way for a while now, Dick thinks beneath his outward façade of positivity.

After his triumphant victory at the Olympics in Montreal, Dick took the following year off from competing. The Olympic season had burnt him out so completely that he knew he needed a break from the mental pressure of competitions. Not that Dick stayed inactive during that year – far from it, in fact. His long-held dream of creating his very own figure skating show came true. Haly’s Ice Circus, as the show was aptly called, became an instant success, earning rave reviews and sell-out crowds everywhere it went, and no wonder why, given that it brought it together some of the greatest skaters the world had even seen, from current ones like André-Blanc Dumont or Dick himself to icons and legends like Diana Prince and Clark Kent, who stepped onto the ice again for the first time and years.

Not to mention having the rare opportunity to see Dick Grayson and Wally West skate on the same ice together after they’d broken the internet and the world at large with their impromptus duet at the last Olympic exhibition gala.

Oh Wally, Dick sighs in silent yearning at the thought of his boyfriend

Wally, who, as promised, promptly moved into Wayne Manor after the Olympics, enrolled as a part-time student to study physics at Gotham University and earn his official certificate as a skating coach while also assisting Selina Kyle at Fries Ice Academy as a technical specialist. How Wally can manage all of these assignments and responsibilities at the same time is well and truly beyond Dick’s comprehension. He can hardly keep up with his skating, even without the added pressure of home schooling (which he finally completed after the last Olympics) or college (which he postponed until after the next Olympics). But the only thing that matters to the Boy Wonder is that his boyfriend is now closer to him than ever before and that he’s even become an invaluable part of Dick’s coaching team – something that has given Dick a feeling of safety and security on the ice that he did not think was possible when he’d started as a senior skater all these years ago.

Perhaps it is that feeling of security that allowed Dick to downright crush the field in the men’s single discipline the way that he did when he decided that a one-year break was enough and returned to competition two years ago. Ever since then, Dick has been dominating the sport in a manner rarely seen before. Every single competition that Dick entered both last season and the current one he ended up winning. Grand Prixs. Grand Prix Final. US Nationals. Four Continents. Worlds. All of it. It was as if winning the Olympics had given Dick a new sense of self-assurance and self-confidence. He began to skate in the full awareness and demeanour of knowing that he was the best skater in the world and that nobody else came even remotely close to him, neither athletically nor artistically. Any debates whether his Olympic triumph in Montreal might have been a fluke were ended definitively as Dick quickly became one of the most decorated figure skaters of all time.

More recently, however, the pressure and demand of constantly performing at such a high level, of having to be nothing less than perfect every time he steps on the ice, began to take its toll on the 20-year-old. It was during the Christmas break between the Grand Prix Final and Nationals that Dick felt it for the first time.

Listlessness.

Tiredness.

Exhaustion.

The very same symptoms of burn-out that had overcome him after winning the Olympics. Initially, Dick did think nothing of it; every skater goes through mental ups and downs as the long season continues on. But when the feeling persisted during his preparation for Nationals two months ago, it was Wally, to whom Dick first confessed these feelings of exhaustion and who encouraged Dick to speak to Dinah Lance, his sport psychologist. Her diagnosis was as quick as it was unequivocal: another burn-out was on the horizon, and at the worst time possible: roughly one year prior to the Olympics.

It’s a testament to Dick’s professionalism that he still managed to confidently win Nationals and secure his spot on the team for the World Championships. Now, though, the symptoms are beginning to become too strong and too overt to ignore them any further, so much so that in yesterday’s short programme, Dick made mistakes. Nothing major that could have cost him the lead, but enough to ensure that there are only five points between first and six place now. For the first time since his comeback, the great Dick Grayson no longer seems invincible; instead, he appears weak, vulnerable, beatable even, and looking around the ice at the five other skaters who are currently warming up along with him, Dick knows that they are all thinking the same thing: Tonight, there’s blood in the water. Tonight, I might finally beat the great Dick Grayson.

Tonight, Dick thinks himself, full of worry, I might finally lose.

Dick knows, too, that if he wants to defend his World title against these competitors, he cannot afford any further mistakes and needs to skate perfectly in the free programme. Especially since pretty much all of the other skaters in the final group were basically perfect in practice this morning – unlike Dick. In second place, Dick’s greatest rival, unsurprisingly, is once again Connor Hawke from Korea, who won everything – including the Grand Prix Final, Four Continents, and Worlds – the season that Dick took a break and has established himself as the most dangerous threat to the Boy Wonder since then. If anyone’s going to beat Dick tonight, it’s going to be 19-year-old Connor – just like he did at Four Continents right before the last Olympics. And with less than one point between them, all it takes is one mistake and Dick’s gold medal is gone.

In third place, there’s Rafael di Rienzi from Italy. The 22-year-old fan favourite from Milan won the European Championships three times in a row, but has yet to reach the podium at Worlds. With not even two points behind the current leader, his chances never stood better than this year.

Home-town favourite Heino Okata from Japan currently lies in fourth place after a slightly disappointing short programme. The 18-year-old who is known for his extravagant costumes and idiosyncratic style of skating is Japan’s greatest hope at a medal in the men’s event at the upcoming home Olympics in Sapporo next year. Even though his chances of winning today look a bit dimmed, Heino’s bronze medal at the Grand Prix Final proved that he is not to be underestimated at any point.

Lying in sixth place at the moment is Dick’s fellow countryman Jaime Reyes. After narrowly missing out on the Olympic team three years ago, Jaime has been working consistently hard to solidify himself as the best US male skater behind Dick. While he may not medal tonight, reaching the final group of the free skate is in itself a victory for the 19-year-old and should bode well for the Olympic qualifications next season.

And then of course there’s Joseph ‘Jericho’ Wilson from Canada in fifth place…

The 20-year-old with whom Dick shares a backstory that reaches well beyond his days as a senior skater…

A backstory that not even Wally knows about…

As if feeling Dick’s eyes on him, Jericho looks over to him and for a brief yet seemingly endless moment, their gazes meet. A plethora of emotions shine in Jericho’s eyes that have the same green colour as Wally’s: confusion, sadness, but most of all regret and the need to explain himself. Yet as soon as Jericho skates by his father at the boards, the moment is gone and he is completely focussed on warming up again.

Trying not to let the past distract him in the present, Dick tears his gaze away from Jericho as well, centres himself and continues his warm-up instead. With the scores of the top skaters being so close, Dick knows that he’ll have no choice but to jump the quad Axel. Three years after his Olympic triumph, Dick is still the only skater to have landed the most difficult jump of them all on competitive ice, and yet, Dick has not actually done so for quite a while, partly he because did not even attempt it. For most of the last two seasons, Dick was typically so far ahead of the field that he did not need the extra points of the quad Axel to secure the win. The other reason was that Dick wanted to avoid the risk of injuries. The quad Axel is not only the most difficult jump in figure skating, but also the most physically demanding and dangerous one. Even though Dick would be considered ‘young’ at 20 years of age in most other sports, in figure skating that already makes him one of the more advanced competitors, and especially this past season, Dick has been starting to realize that his body is no longer the same as when jumped six quads at the Montreal Olympics. He has been preserving his body to keep it healthy and fresh for the Sapporo Olympics next year. Yet with less than one point between himself and Connor, he has no choice: Dick has to go out guns blazing, including the quad Axel, to show that his short programme was just a fluke and that he’s still the undisputed number one.

And then afterwards I can collapse and sleep for the rest of the summer…

“Skaters, you have one minute left”, the voice of the announcer alerts them. Casting his self-doubts aside, Dick just goes through the motions for the final minute, bending his knees and trying to get a good feel for the ice and the blades. At least Dick’s competitors this time around are all good and decent personalities. Dick dreads to think what it would be like if he had to go up against Valentin Streltsov right now, who time and again makes headlines with speculations and rumours about a competitive comeback for the upcoming Olympics next season…

Dick is already on his way to the boards when the announcer declares the warm-up to be over. At the boards, he is greeted by Selina and Wally, who hands Dick his blade guards and his Team USA jacket. Instantly, the sight of Wally’s freckled cheeks, green eyes and flaming ginger bangs help a lot to calm Dick’s nerves down as Selina asks him, “You alright, Dick?”

“Yeah”, Dick sighs, “just ready for Worlds to be over”.

Over Dick’s head, Wally and Selina exchange worried glances which Dick pretends to have missed. Aside from his family, Babs and maybe Victor Fries, these two people probably know Dick better than anyone else in the world – and so they understand how rare it is for Dick to freely and openly admit weakness and exhaustion. For the always cheerful and positive Dick Grayson to confess that he wants the season to be over right before his free skate at Worlds must sound alarming, to say the least.

And you don’t even know the half of it, Dick thinks as he and his coaches withdraw into the backstage area of the huge arena, glad to get some distance between himself and the other skaters and their coaches, especially Jericho’s coach and father, Slade Wilson…

Ever since Nationals, Dick has come to an important realization for the upcoming season: He wants to skip the Grand Prix Circuit.

From a rational point of view, Dick knows that wilfully skipping the Grand Prix circuit, which always takes place in the fall and culminates in the Grand Prix Final in December, is outright madness, especially in an Olympic season when momentum and good will with the international judges matter more than anything in the world. And yet, Dick has swept the Grand Prix circuit two times in a row, winning all of his Grand Prix assignments as well as the Final both times. At this point, if he has to do it for a third time, Dick’s not sure if he’ll have enough physical and mental strength left for the Olympic showdown next year.

So far, Dick hasn’t told anyone about this, not even Dinah or Wally, already anticipating a massive struggle to convince Selina. On the other hand, they must surely sense how tired Dick has grown, and that the second half of the upcoming season with Nationals, the Olympics and the post-Olympic World Championships in Gotham of all places is much more important than the first half, right?

Surely, Walls will agree with me and support me?

Backstage, Dick begins his familiar routine of trying to keep his body warm while not paying too much attention to what his competitors are doing. However, he is taken aback for a moment when he catches himself in the mirror on the walls.

It’s not his outfit that startles Dick. He's wearing dark-blue pants and a matching top that has golden rhinestones sprinkled across the soft fabric. Rather, it’s the body inside the costume that takes Dick by surprise.

When did I get this … buff?, Dick wonders in silent, self-conscious admiration.

When Dick won the Olympics three years ago, his lithe, youthful appearance made him look like Peter Pan on ice, the epitome of his nickname as the Boy Wonder. Since then, however, Dick has not so quietly grown from a boy into a young man and has amassed a toned, athletic body that would not look out of place on the catwalk of Gotham Fashion week or onstage at the Paris Opera Ballet. Indeed, when GQ magazine published a photospread with Dick last fall that included a couple of shirtless pics, the images went viral and the hashtag #hunkwonder instantly started trending online.

Despite all that, for some reason Dick never really took note of his physical transformation until now. Maybe it is because the physical strength that his body exudes on the outside stands in such stark contrast to the mental exhaustion that he feels on the inside? Maybe it is because it is so emblematic of the role he has taken on in the world of figure skating? The strong powerful golden boy who is expected to be flawless every time he steps onto the ice?

But what if I’m not that?, Dick wants to protest? What if I’m flawed like everybody else?

Why am I not allowed a break, too?

Dick remains so absorbed in his own image that he barely notices Jaime finishing his programme. The performance must have gone very well, based on the wide grin on Jaime’s face as he takes his bow and makes his way to the Kiss & Cry. The judges apparently agree. For the first time in his international career, Jaime breaks the magical 200-point mark in the free, which prompts a euphoric cheer out of the skater from El Paso. With an even better short programme, that score would have put him in medal contention.

Dick is about to turn away from the TV screen when the camera cuts to the next skater waiting to take the ice.

It’s Jericho!

Joseph Wilson receives a final few curt words from his dad/coach Slade, a broad-shouldered man with short-cropped grey hair, before pushing off the boards towards centre ice, dressed in dark pants, a dark unbuttoned shirt and a snug white tank-top underneath. He looks stunning, his blond curls standing out against the olive-coloured tone of his skin and his chiselled features.

Although Jericho is the same age as Dick, the Canadian skater has had a markedly different career than his peer from Gotham City. Three years ago, Jericho narrowly missed out on qualifying for the national team at the home Olympics in Montreal, which surely must have come as a crushing mental blow. After that, the career of the famously mute skater was marred by various health issues and injuries which kept him from competing regularly for two seasons. This year, however, he finally came back, surprising everyone by winning Canadian Nationals in January.

And here he is, skating at Worlds and bringing memories and feelings back into the present that Dick had presumed to be left behind in the past for good.

Dick holds his breath as Jericho assumes his opening pose and the sound of a piano comes through screen. The piano is joined after a few seconds later by the raspy voice of a male singer, and Dick finally recognizes Jericho’s music choice: ‘Another Love’ by Tom Odell.

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care

But it's so cold and I don't know where

I brought you daffodils in a pretty string

But they won't flower like they did last spring

And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright

I'm just so tired to share my nights

I wanna cry and I wanna love

But all my tears have been used up

Listening to the emotional lyrics and watching the mix of sensitive vulnerability and defiant strength with which Jericho interprets them in his movements, a mighty shiver runs down Dick’s spine and a sudden realization emerges on his brain like a bolt of lightning illuminating a dark stormy night:

This programme is about me.

The song is about wanting to commit to a person that you well and truly love, but being unable to do so because you are still reeling from the pain and the scars that your previous relationship gave you.

I am that loved one, Dick understands as he witnesses Jericho leaving his heart out there on the ice.

And Jericho’s father is the one who kept him from loving me…

In the swell of emotion, it takes Dick a while to notice how well Jericho is doing technically, too, which is surprising because the Canadian is doing incredibly. Jericho nails one quadruple jump after the next, seemingly having the skate of his life. When the thunderous drums in the song kick in after the first chorus, the audience immediately start clapping along, taking up the affective energy that Jericho is giving them and sending it right back to the skater on the ice.

By the end of the programme, the arena has worked itself up into an emotional frenzy that is palpable even to Dick backstage. As soon as the music stops, the spectators jump to their feet and give Jericho a well-earned standing ovation. Strangely enough, however, Jericho looks hardly moved by the reception, a soft smile of gratitude on his lips being his only facial expression. The lack of reaction continues after the bows when his father greets him by the board, declining to hug his son who just had the skate of his life. Instead, Slade Wilson briskly claps his son on the shoulders and wordlessly hands him his blade guards.

“Damn”, Wally comments beside Dick, “there really is no love lost between those two, is there?”

Dick merely hums in agreement, adding silently, If you only knew how right you are, Walls…

In the Kiss & Cry, Jericho’s stellar performance translates into an equally stellar score.

“Joseph Wilson from Canada has earned in the free skate 216.92 points, which is a personal best, and a total competition score of 309.10 points. He is currently in first place."

The reactions to Jericho’s score could not be more diverse. While the audience in the arena scream and cheer enthusiastically, most of the skaters and coaches backstage just gasp and gape at the numbers. So far this season, Dick has been the only skater to earn a total score of more than 300 points Yet, after that performance, Jericho will definitely give Dick a run for his money if he wants to defend his title.

And surely nothing would please Slade more, Dick thinks darkly, than to see me lose the title to his son…

… His son, who remains completely expressionless in the Kiss & Cry even after the score, in contrast to his smugly grinning father.

“What’s wrong with him?”, Wally asks in audible confusion.

Dick would wager a fair guess what Jericho’s problem is, but now is definitely not the time to open that can of worms.

Not yet…

Jericho’s free skate, meanwhile seems to have opened up a whole other can of worms for his competitors as well, all of whom seem too shocked to replicate the Canadian’s performance. It’s as if Jericho has dealt a physical blow to his rivals. First Heino Okata from Japan, then Rafael di Rienzi, who were both several points ahead of Jericho after the short programme, fall behind him in the free, so that Jericho is still comfortably in the lead overall ahead of Jaime Reyes by the time Connor Hawke takes to the ice and Dick along with Wally and Selina moves to the boards to prepare for his free skate.

Connor skates to a mix of themes from the Game of Thrones soundtrack – not the most creative choice of music in Dick’s opinion but it certainly lends itself well to Connor’s big and expressive style of skating. Today, however, just like Heino and Rafael before him, Connor does not appear to be at his best form. Dick has no idea whether he’s also still affected by Jericho’s performance or it it’s something else, but whatever it is, it’s impacting Connor enough to make him step out of his quadruple flip and rotate some of his other jumps rather tightly. After the short programme, Connor was well ahead of Jericho, but with the mistakes that Connor is making right now and the terrific performance that Jericho just delivered, it will be a very close call.

With Connor’s free programme approaching its end, Dick zips down his jacket and hands it to Selina.

“Everything alright, Dick?”, Selina asks as she accepts the jacket, empathetic concern sketched into her features.

“Yeah”, Dick nods and offers a small smile that does not even feel convincing to himself.

“Just remember: get the Axel out of the way first”, Selina reminds him, “and then just focus on the rest of the programme.”

“Okay”, Dick nods again, trying to sound more confident this time.

I’ve been undefeated for two whole seasons, he wonders in his head. Where has all my self-confidence gone?

Taking one last sip from the water bottle that Wally hands him, Dick cannot stop himself from grabbing Wally’s right hand with his own left one. “You got this, Dickie”, Wally assures him with his trademark smile that does not fail to ignite some warmth in Dick’s stomach even after three years, “okay? I love you.”

“Love you too”, Dick smiles back at this ginger-haired miracle of a human being that also happens to be his boyfriend.

When Connor Hawke finally finishes his free programme and leaves the ice on the opposite site, a volunteer opens the boards for Dick and off he goes, skating a few rounds of the rink while Connor makes his way to the Kiss & Cry. In his gut, Dick knows that Connor, like the skaters before him, will fall behind Jericho overall, so the Mathlete part of Dick’s brain already starts calculating how he needs to skate in order to win. Dick scored 96.84 points in the short programme, a far cry from his World record of 114.65 at the last Olympics.

So I need 212.27 to win…

A huge number that would be impossible to achieve for many other skaters, but not for Dick. He cracked the 200-mark at both of his Grand Prix assignments this season and managed more than 219 points at the Grand Prix Final – all of which without the quad Axel, no less. Hell, he still holds the World record from the last Olympics at more than 236 points for the free skate alone. So from a rational point of view Dick should be unconcerned, even at the demanding task ahead of him.

Then why is the irrational part of him remaining so anxious and just wants this event, and this whole season to be over?

When Connor’s score is announced, Dick does not pay attention to the numbers that are called out but just peeks up at the jumbotron above to see Connor’s placement.

Only third overall!, Dick almost gapes, behind Jaime Reyes! Guess that Jaime’s free did put him in medal contention after all. Lucky him to have skated before Jericho…

A second later the announcer calls out the very words that Dick has been dreading all day.

“Our final skater represents the United Skates of America. RICHARD GRAYSON!”

The crowd cheers loudly as Dick unfolds his arms in a grand gesture and skates towards centre ice. Once standing in the middle of the rink, he extends his arms and crosses his right leg behind his left – as if he were a ballet dancer preparing to do a pirouette – and waits for the opening notes of Mozart’s ‘Lacrimosa’ to begin. Choosing Mozart’s Requiem for Dick’s free skate was the joint idea of his coach Selina and Gotham’s head choreographer Helena Bertinelli. “Sublime music to remind people what a sublime skater you are, Dick!”, they reasoned. Dick could understand the logic, and he really does appreciate the programme for what it is. Any skater in the world would be lucky to skate choreography as gorgeous as this. And yet, despite it all, his heart is just not in it, and never has been – certainly not as much as his heart was into Moonlight Sonata.

At least I only have to skate this programme one more time…

The famous opening notes of Mozart’s ‘Lacrimosa’ arise and Dick begins his choreography. When the choir comes in, Dick performs a few transitions to gather speed and prepares for the quad Axel.

Lacrimosa dies illa

Full of tears will be that day

Having gained enough speed, Dick steps forward and kicks his right leg up into the jump. In the air, Dick can already tell that he has hit exactly the right angle to squeeze in the extra rotation.

One

Two

Three

Four

Four and a half

Relief surges through Dick’s brain mid-air. He’s done it!

Yet when his right skate re-connects with the ice, several things happen all at once.

Dick’s blade hits an uneven spot in the surface of the ice – a hole.

His body involuntary loses balance and his foot slips to the side.

A searing pain explodes in Dick’s right ankle, immediately flooding his entire body with burning agony..

“AAAAAHHHHHHRRRGGGGG!!!”

Losing all control over his legs, Dick’s torso slams into the ice. A spine-tingling scream erupts from his lungs while his body recoils into the shape of a foetus and his hands instinctively reach for his right ankle which feels like it is burning into ashes. His whole body is aflame with pain, an unreal contrast to the coldness of the icy surface on which Dick is writhing.

All the while, Mozart’s divinely tragic music keeps on playing.

Qua resurget ex favilla

When from the ashes shall arise

Judicandus homo reus

The guilty man to be judged

His mind clouded by all-encompassing pain, Dick has no idea how long he keeps lying there on the ice, withering away in agony and screaming his heart out. At long last, a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around Dick’s body and lift him into the air before the soothing voice of Wally West sounds in his ear.

“I got you, Dick, I got you!”

A moment later, the music stops, and the only sounds echoing through the horrific silence of the arena are Dick’s incessant screams and countless gasps and sobs from the stunned audience. Eventually Dick feels himself get lowered onto a stretcher.

Forcing his eyes open through the pain, Dick sees several paramedics hovering above him and pushing his stretcher into the backstage corridors. Spotting the familiar ginger flare of Wally’s hair on the edge of his vision, Dick reaches out a hand towards him.

“Wally!”, Dick sobs, his voice already hoarse from screaming and crying, his blurry vision swimming with tears.

Wally pushes his way through the paramedics, seemingly undaunted by the dark looks that they throw him, and clutches Dick’s fingers.

“Please don’t let go!”, the Boy Wonder pleads with him.

“I won’t, Dick, I promise!”, Wally answers desperately, unshed tears of his own shining in his emerald eyes.

It is the last thing that Dick’s senses register before the pain becomes too much and the world around him fades away into darkness…

Chapter Text

My lovely readers,

I just wanted to let y’all know that I’ve decided to move the second arc of this story, including the most recent chapter, into a separate fic – mainly because I felt that at 20+ chapters and 100k+ words, things were becoming a little too out-of-hand and unwieldy for new readers to access the story and follow along.

If you loved this first part of Moonlight Sonata, then please also subscribe to its sequel where I will post all further updates:

Moonlight Sonata II: Robin Resurgent

https://archiveofourown.info/works/57019687/chapters/145006588

I appreciate your love and support so much and hope you will continue with me on Dick’s skating journey <3 <3 <3