Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/807869.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Young_Justice_(Cartoon), Young_Justice, DCU_Animated
  Relationship:
      Kid_Flash/Robin, Kid_Flash_&_Robin, Dick_Grayson/Wally_West
  Character:
      Kid_Flash, Robin_(DCU), Batman
  Additional Tags:
      Kidnapping, coffin, Accidental_Stimulation, Road_Trips, Awkward_Sexual
      Situations, Awkward_Boners, Friendship, Epic_Friendship, Embarrassment,
      Shame, Shameless_Smut, Heterosexuality, Inappropriate_Erections,
      Costumes, Dry_Humping, Not_Suitable/Safe_For_Work, Tight_Spaces, Tight
      Pants
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-18 Words: 2461
****** That One Time In A Coffin In A Truck On The Gotham Bridge ******
by xTammyVx
Summary
     “Why in the name of everything ever are you not wearing a cup?!”
     Robin finally spluttered.
     “We were just supposed to be doing a speech and waving at some
     cameras! I didn’t think that we’d be getting kidnapped and shoved in
     a coffin!” the speedster replied in a low wail.
Notes
     Because I have been writing so many long fics recently, and none of
     them are finished.
     Actually, I don't have to explain myself to you. You clicked it.
     Happy reading!
See the end of the work for more notes
Robin was woken up by a low groan and hot breath that smelled like Pringles. He
wasn't in his bed, but he was in his costume, and it was uncomfortably warm.
The walls were thick but there were gaps between the planks – gaps which
allowed thin streams of light to flicker in. They must have been in some kind
of vehicle, he realised as the container jolted, and passing street lights.
That meant that they were in a city of some kind. He couldn't decide if that
was a good thing or a bad thing.
What was a good thing was that Kid Flash was waking up, too. He mumbled
something, sleepily incoherent even to Robin, and then gasped, darting to sit
upright and hitting his head on the roof.
.
The second time that Kid Flash became conscious, three hours after they had
given speeches outside the Hall of Justice, Robin had assessed the situation
and had come to the conclusion that it officially and undoubtedly sucked. His
hands weren't tied, but there were no loose bolts or anything for him to
dislodge. His comm. link was offline—some crazy-good blocker—and the box was
too small for him to shift out from underneath his friend. He may have been
strong, but he was also small, and KF… well… wasn't. He was heavy, and, once
again, surprised to be straddling his best friend's thigh.
"No!" Robin hissed as KF gave a surprised gasp and went to get some space
between them. "You've already done that, and it didn't work, and I can't spend
another hour with you on top of me!"
"What the heck is going on, Rob?" the ginger asked, his classic grin
nonexistent as he noted the tiny amount of wriggle room. It was barely enough
for him to prop himself up on his own elbows, and when he did, it still only
allowed half an inch between their bodies.
The younger boy, his chest relieved of the weight, admitted, "I don't know.
We're in a box."
"Ah. The detective strikes again."
"Oh, funny."
"Ever the charmer. Where's the rest of the Team?"
"I don't know," repeated Robin, a soft sigh accompanying his words. There
wasn't even enough room for him and KF to be face-to-face with more than half a
centimeter of space between their mouths. "Miss Martian isn't on the psychic
link, so we're either out of range, or she's knocked out. I haven't tried
yelling. We don't know who's driving, or what else is in the rest of the
truck."
"Truck?" Kid Flash echoed.
"Yes."
"Explain."
"Whenever we go over a bump, we go over it five times. That implies five rows
of wheels."
"Oh. Okay."
"My communicator is down. How's yours?"
Kid Flash lifted his elbow from the floor and, very aware of the discomfort his
movements were putting on Rob, put his finger to his ear. "Nope," he sighed
heavily. "Not even static."
"Strange."
"Yeah."
"What are you doing?"
"Well," Kid Flash began, "I figured that while I'm in this position, I may as
well scratch my nose. You want me to scratch yours?"
"Yes, please."
Kid Flash's gloved finger rubbed the tip of Robin's small, button nose, and
while the younger teen usually would have laughed, he simple said, "Thank you,"
and continued to look annoyed with this whole predicament.
They shifted again, and stayed like that. Kid Flash didn't mention that his
elbows ached, even with the cushioned bottom.
Wait.
Cushioned?
"Are we in a coffin?" he asked loudly, feeling more than a little sick. No. No
way. This was so out of his job description!
"Ssh."
"No, dude. This is a coffin. I'm not sshing. This is creepy. I'm scared. I
don't want to get buried alive."
He was going at superspeed now, each word sewn to the next with worry and
nerves.
"Shh!"
That stopped him. Kid Flash swallowed and his eyes trained onto his best
friend, whose face was barely visible in the glow coming from between two
planks of wood on his left.
"I think we're going over a bridge. Okay, three hours ago we left the Hall of
Justice. A bridge three hours from Washington." Even with his mask on, Kid
Flash could see Robin's eyes light up. "We could be crossing over into Gotham!"
"They do security checks, right? Before we're across, they'll have found us!"
Kid Flash's brows pinched together. "Right?"
The hesitance that came before Rob's answer said it all. "If we alert the
guards, we could get them killed."
This really, really sucked.
The truck slowed, and twitched, and twitched again, and three more times, then
sped up. Kid Flash adjusted his position, arms tired and sore. More bumps and
he changed his mind, instantly pushing himself away from the boy.
Robin blinked as he realised that there was something poking into his thigh.
He looked at Kid Flash.
Kid Flash bit his lip.
Saying nothing of it, the two simply froze, and in less than ten seconds, the
poke became a full-fledged bulge.
"Why in the name of everything ever are you not wearing a cup?!" Robin finally
spluttered.
"We were just supposed to be doing a speech and waving at some cameras! I
didn't think that we'd be getting kidnapped and shoved in a coffin!" the
speedster replied in a low wail.
"Why wouldn't you wear one anyway? Be prepared – superhero rule number one!"
"Because wearing one makes my junk look smaller and if I'm going to be on TV
then I may as well show what I'm packing!"
Robin simply couldn't even begin to recognize that as legitimate logic. "You've
got to be kidding me, right? What you're packing is now pressing against me,
and—"
Another speed bump had a loud gasp from a blushing Kid Flash interrupting
Robin's angry words. He fell silent as KF's eyes fluttered open almost
immediately.
"I'm sorry, dude," he mumbled sheepishly.
Robin dropped his head back against the headrest. "Just… try to think of some
scientific formulas, okay?"
All he got was a nod in response. Robin tried—really, genuinely begged
himself—to forget that this bridge was riddled with raised areas – an attempt
from the Gotham City Council to hopefully deter any speeding terrorists.
Unfortunately, it didn't help when there was a truck that seemed more than
happy to wait in the Friday-night queue, creaking and moaning on its wheels as
the engine rumbled. The icing on the cake, however, surely was that each quick
jolt and bounce seemed to knock Kid Flash a little off-balance, and so,
consequently, Robin was feeling way more of his best friend's puberty blues
than he had ever wanted to.
The awkwardness clearly getting to him, the boy tried to move around and find
some way to not rub against the hard-on straining noticeably against the crotch
of KF's uniform. It wasn't an easy task, he realised in despair when he had to
force his butt off of the bottom of the coffin in his fourth try to find a
comfortable position. Every way he moved—left, right, up, down—had his thigh
fitting too closely between Wally's.
"Stop!" the older teen finally pleaded. It was almost enough to elicit a
protest, but Robin noticed as the light from outside rebounded off of the
large, ink-black pupils that were so full in KF's eyes and the whine in his
voice melting in its own huskiness that this was only making it worse. "I know
that this is weird and stuff, but stop moving, or you're gonna make me…"
Oh, nuh-uh.
Robin did not under any circumstances want that.
It wasn't that he didn't think KF was… hot. Robin hadn't told anyone—although
he was pretty sure that Bruce knew, because there was only so much internet
history that you could hide from Batman—but guys were good. Guys were almost as
good as girls.
But how embarrassing would it be if the Justice League showed up to find that
Robin, poster-boy for perfection, had some nice, fresh stains on his uniform?
Kid Flash dropped his forehead to the cushioned floor. The embarrassment
driving him as far away from Robin as he possibly could be did not quite
smother the ache in his limbs from being held up so long. He knew that Rob
would've offered to trade spots by now if he could, so that meant that they
couldn't, and there was another set of speed-bumps. A set of two, this time.
Wally's cock throbbed as each one had his hard-on hitting or brushing or
rubbing against the black fabric of Rob's tights. They were thick, but not
thick enough to mask the warmth of his skin without the temperature-blinding
setting on, which it apparently wasn't, so it ticked all the boxes of his
dick's criteria.
Not KF's, though. His mind raced with panic and red lights and shame and when
he whimpered it just sounded too damned sexual. He didn't want Rob to think
that he was getting off on this. That would totally not be okay. He'd never be
able to look him in the eyes again. He'd have to quit the Team. He'd move to
Switzerland.
"My leg's fallen asleep," Robin remarked in a quick groan. While Kid Flash
appreciated the gesture that seemed to minimize—not eliminate, however—the
awkwardness, it didn't help. "I just wish that this stupid thing was long
enough to stretch in. Do you think they got a child's coffin just for us? Talk
about insulting."
KF's mind was elsewhere and so less concerned than Robin about who the coffin
was designed for. What if he was still hard when they got saved? How would he
explain that to Miss Martian that he had popped a boner, pressed up against his
guy best friend, because of the world's stupidest security system? No wonder
Gotham got so many crazies.
He decided to keep that last part to himself.
Behind his mask, Robin's eyes were closed. His mind was overcome by one of the
fifteen mediation tricks that Batman had taught him so that he could remain
calm in any given situation. All too snug inside a box against a pitifully
hormonal speedster who flushed darker and darker with each rattle of the
vehicle, now seemed like an appropriate time to test their strength.
Then it occurred to him that they had stopped moving, and the back of the truck
was moving up.
"A lotta coffins."
"Business is good in Gotham, you know? Lotsa crazies, lotsa coffins needed."
"I see."
The torch's light caught Kid Flash's eye and he closed them to avoid the sting
of harsh white. Robin's lenses filtered it through, though, and he could make
out a middle-aged man with a bullet-proof vest and a cap. His badge said
"Gotham Police".
"Seems clear," he noted into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. The back of the
truck closed as soon as he jumped out. "Proceed to the next station."
The two superheroes breathed a sigh of relief; Robin's because he may well have
saved another Gotham cop from a similar fate intended for himself and his best
friend, and Kid Flash's because, honestly, he didn't know how happy he was on a
scale of Grumpy Cat to M'gann, and he didn't care. As long as he wasn't getting
busted with his cock standing to full attention, his reputation could
theoretically remain intact.
He had given himself the all-clear too soon, however. This time, the bumps
simply didn't stop. It was like an earthquake; everything rattled and he was
practically vibrating in the same way that he did by himself, and suddenly he
was way, way too hard, and everything froze. Robin may have said something, but
the flood of merry betrayal from his own body seemed to remove Wally from any
sense that didn't involve the release of hot cum into the crotch of his
costume.
Kid Flash made a sound that was, quite frankly, more like a sob than anything
else, his hips bucking and the hard bulge pressing against Robin's knee with
them. It was quiet for a few seconds in the real world, but in Robin's brain,
his blood roared and rushed and drummed into his skull, and then the redhead
released a shaky breath. Robin knew what that panting meant, just like the
blush that deepened right to Kid Flash's chin, and the movement as he drew his
hips back as much as possible, which wasn't much.
Finally, Kid Flash removed his head from where it had been resting awkwardly
beside Robin's ear, and it didn't make him feel any less awkward when Robin
simply stated in a tone that was both bewildered and calm, "You came."
Kid Flash paused. Then he muttered, "Yeah."
"You dry-humped me until you came. Great."
"Not on purpose!" he exclaimed in a useless, miserable groan. "I'm sorry,
alright?"
"Ugh, I can feel it," Robin groaned.
The shame settled deep in the pit of KF's gut, and then he noted that familiar
smirk on his friend's face.
"What? What's so funny?"
"This is going to be the best thing the next time you get cocky," Robin replied
softly. "You're gonna be showing off for M'gann, and I'm just going to look at
you and say, 'You know what I really like? Coffins.' And you're going to turn
redder than your hair, and nobody but us is going to know why."
A small grin spread on Kid Flash's lips. "You're over-tired, aren't you?"
"Over-tired and so done with this."
It was quite spectacular, actually. For a second, everything was dark, and
Robin wondered if, maybe, there had been a black out.
Then there was light.
Batman looked down at them, and Kid Flash sprang away the moment he could, out
of Batman's line of sight. The man seemed more intent on watching Robin get to
his feet, anyway. All he said was, "Kid Flash, the Flash says that you need to
go back to Base One, now."
He nodded so quickly that his head nearly fell off, and with one last glance at
Robin, he sprinted from the truck and along the bridge, down the highway, and
home.
The two Gotham-based heroes looked at each other for a moment before Batman
broke the tension riddled with honks and yells and shouts of "Get off the
road!"
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Is Kid Flash?"
"No."
Robin knew that Batman knew that something was up, but he didn't ask, and so
Robin was grateful. He followed his mentor out the same exit that KF had taken
in his rush to leave, and aimed his grappling gun at a nearby building.
"So nothing happened while you were gone?"
Robin smirked. "Not a thing."
End Notes
     How's that for 3am writing?
     (Rhetorical question.)
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