I'm doing the Ten Hurt/Comfort "challenge" that was posted on tumblr not too long ago, by the fabulous kaciart. I plan to do every single one of them, mostly because it will take my story count up by 250 stories in the least. If that doesn't build me a reputation, I don't think I want to live in this world anymore.
#001: General: Injured
Wally's favorite part of being a superhero was going up against the baddies.
It wasn't because he loved how the tight spandex felt against his flesh as he darted in and out of a weapon's path, twirling on his toes and spinning on his heels.
It had nothing to do with the adrenaline that ran through him, pushing him nearly faster than the mentor he knew his speeds would never compare to, his heart pumping hard enough to numb out all of the bad thoughts from his life before the moment he was in right there; kind of like he was out-running his troubles.
It was nothing like Batman's reasoning, in saying that he wasn't in it for the justice or finding whatever is to be considered politically correct for the situation at hand.
It didn't concern a violence kink that he didn't have, a glorious magenta tint lining his cheekbones and a grin that only a man in his prime could ever display with that lustful sparkle hard in his emerald gaze.
It wasn't even for the souvenir he always seemed to make a big deal over, bringing home a trophy or memorial used for referencing the certain day to look back on when the cowl wasn't slid up over his freckles.
His reason for loving to be in his spandex with his adrenaline racing him harder and faster than his uncle had ever dreamt of running for the justice, the pleasure and the souvenir was Robin's giggle.
Running along with his yellow boots practically skimming the ground in a hover with his speed, the wind whipping at the red bolts that kept his ears firmly attached to his head, red hands pulled into tight fists with each long stride, nothing eased the trembling excited frame than hearing the high pitched little cackle echo from all around before a small portion of the danger was cut away like a large portion to the cream-cheese covered cake hidden where the adults think you can't find it.
Knowing that hearing those adorable little decibels was all that kept him from death on regular missions wasn't at first a comforting thought, seeing that it wasn't even ninety percent accurate, but it was comforting to know that when they sounded, he'd be saved.
That's probably why he faltered a second, the gun barrels aimed for his chest, when that signature giggle didn't cut through the air and ease the shivers that clung to his spine like a bloodthirsty leech, intending to stay until they had drained him of all comfort.
"Robin!" he cried, sliding to his knees as he saw a finger twitch, just barely missing a bullet aimed for his head, snatching the AK47 and spinning it, pistol-whipping the masked man down to the concrete below.
He didn't expect a cry back, neither did he get one, which only further furrowed the worry into his heart, making him squirm in his boots. He darted forward, disarming and plowing down the other armed men, tossing their guns aside without even thinking, weaving between their corpses with his eyes flying. The little acrobat was nowhere to be seen though, being more of a Batman now than he had ever been before.
"Rob!" he tried again, hoping that his pet name for the bird would get him a call in return, pulling his goggles down over his eyes when he was left in the silence.
The infrared gaze was a lot more helpful in outlining figures in a variety of colors, but it didn't exactly give names to figures. There were a lot of bodies hidden in the room to the left, but there were more upstairs. What if that was why the ebony hadn't called back? What if his giggle was forever silenced? Just the thought had him flying into the room next door, eyes horrifyingly wide with hope, sighing in relief as he found all the bodies there too tall to be his best friend.
The ginger just followed where the goggles showed there to be bodies, worry growing harder and harder in the pit of his stomach to the point he was hugging it instead of pumping his arms as he ran. Somewhere, his favorite sidekick could be sprawled out across the floor, his brains serving as his pillow on the asphalt below the hidden navy gaze.
"Please, buddy," he was praying now, harder than he ever had recalled doing, tripping over a metal stair on the way up them and gashing his cheek on the grill of platform that served as the floor for that upper level.
It stung, obviously bleeding a little, but his adrenaline propelled him to his toes again in a breath, doing nothing more than sweeping the back of his palm over his cheek and clearing the worst of the blood. His hand flew quick to the door and pushed it open, taking a step into the room before the start of a cry was muffled into the symbol on his chest. The ginger tensed, arms flying up in defense before he recognized the dark brown roots nuzzling his abs, quickly binding his arms around the thirteen year old.
"Dick," he breathed in relief, tears stinging harder than he was willing to admit, his heart breaking as the gloved grip curled in on a part of his spandex.
"Wally," he felt the pale lips move even through the fabric, "I… I called for you… I thought they got you!"
The ginger found himself laughing, raising only one hand to run his fingers through the floppy artificial locks that he loved, closing his eyes up tight.
"I... I didn't hear your laugh. I was screaming your name," Wally murmured back, voice brimming with hurt. "I was… terrified… that I was going to find you and have to bury you next to you-know-who."
Dick's hug suddenly grew a lot tighter at that, raising his head so his chin rested along the ginger's pecs, domino mask hiding his gaze tightly. The lips began to move, suddenly stopping as the white eye separations spread wider.
"What?" Wally looked down at his face through crossed eyes, trying to see what had the ebony so concerned.
The blue eyed babe peeled himself off of the fifteen year old's frame, pushing the red goggles up from Wally's eyes before skimming his thumb over the cut over the taller teen's cheek, pulling the glove back to show the scarlet over the dark fabric.
"They did get you," he whispered in horror.
Wally raised an eyebrow, beginning to feel for his face when he remembered, "No, they didn't touch me! I was-!"
He couldn't finish though, gasping in pain as a wet fabric with a stinging scent that made it wet skimmed over the incision, watching it tuck back into the utility belt coated in blood.
"I have to clean the wound, Kid Klutz," Dick explained to the raised eyebrow, setting a hand to the back of the ginger's neck and pulling him down to tenderly press his lips to the still bleeding cut, "And a boo-boo kiss to serve as the pre-Band-Aid."
The ginger was suddenly thankful for his cowl to hide the blush that lined his freckles, trying to decide if his cheek was tingling because of the pain or from the kiss. Probably the kiss. No, scratch that. Definitely the kiss.
He tensed again as an I shaped Band-Aid covered the cut, with the intention to clot it over before Dick seemed to be satisfied, beaming happily up into Wally's eyes. They met gazes, both averting their eyes shyly.
"M-maybe next time I should fall and split my lip," he teased, rubbing his neck.
Dick laughed quietly, teasingly punching the ginger's shoulder before rubbing his elbow.
"Too bad you didn't," he winked before slipping his arm through Wally's shoulder, "Now let's get back to the bio ship. I have to see if any of the rest of the team needs a boo-boo kiss."
Wally jokingly gave a protective growl, clutching the five foot boy hard to his muscles.
"Those lips are mine," he made a face that brought out that bubbly little giggle, and suddenly all of the leeches were gone, relief running freely through the speedster again.
Yes, these may be two hundred and fifty Birdflash fics. You all can deal. How'd I do for fluff?
-F.J. III