Technically, Dick shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in skates with toepicks. He should be a good little rookie, anxiously waiting for his first SHL game, preseason or not. He should be bouncing off the walls like Wally or just staring at them broodingly like Conner.
Of course, then Bruce shouldn’t have given Max permission to use the practice rink, which she took as permission to kidnap Dick.
There is something calming about drifting along, doing salchows and loop jumps without any real thought to choreography, just moving to Max’s idea of classical music, rock ballads.
Terry follows him, copying his moves with ease. “I still can’t believe you chose hockey. Way to be a dreg.”
“Try to be a little less dis and a bit more gruntled.” Dick twists to face Terry and skates backwards around the net. “You have less competition and you like hockey. Admit it, you are coming to the game tonight.”
“Alfred’s making me go.” Terry says, waving his hand. “Need to do the whole Wards of Wayne parade for the media. Which is dumb because I work for Wayne.”
Max passes them, choking on her laughter. She yells over her shoulder, “Like you aren’t going to cheer for our little birdie.”
Dick glares at her but Max just gives him that look, the one that says I am this close to making a Little Dick joke. Little birdie is definitely the lesser of those two evils.
“I’m cheering whoever checks him into the glass.” Terry says, still following him. “Maybe one of them will knock sense back into you and you can train with us for the Olympics.”
“Oh, I will be at the Olympics.” Dick stops at the home bench and grabs his gatorade bottle.
Terry slows to a stop in front of him and stares down at Dick pointedly before ruffling his hair. “Stick with World Juniors, kid. You’re tiny, a little twip.”
“Stop being a brat, Terry.” Max skates over again, stopping in inches from Dick. “He’s just jealous because Matt likes hockey more.”
“Aww, does Mini McGinnis want tickets? A Gotham Knights jersey?”
“No.” Terry says, looking about as happy as Bruce did when Dick was twelve and went up to Clark Kent, badgering Clark for his autograph and telling him that he was Dick’s favorite player.
“Don’t worry about it, Mama McGinnis gave Terry that look until Terry went to Mr. Wayne for tickets. We’ll all be at the season opener.” Max leans in conspiratorially. “Even Dana if they aren’t fighting again by then.”
Dick smirks, he’ll have to look up the seats and talk to the Kiss Cam guys. Few things are more beautiful than embarrassment on a Jumbotron. (Dick still has a copy of the time Bruce had been surprised by the Kiss Cam while sitting next to Selena Kyle. Bruce’s surprised face is priceless.)
Max grabs Dick’s wrist. “Come on, little bird. Let’s leave the sourpuss and skate before we lose you to the smelly hockey players for good.”