Hi guys! Thanks for all the reviews I got on my last story. I'm so excited you all liked it. This story was written at 4:00 AM yesterday (today?), but I hope that it doesn't show. Again, please review with constructive criticism. If you think that I could improve on certain aspects of my writing, please feel free to tell me.
And yeah, that's pretty much it.
Artemis was taught never to touch.
Physical contact with someone was considered unnecessary, unless it was to deliver a blow. It caused too many complications, too many emotions. She learned that handshakes were dangerous. Hugs were forbidden. Kisses were deadly. It was best to remain distant and detached, cut off from whatever human desires she may come across. Contact with another person was, in a sense, fatal.
Or at least, that's what her father told her.
When Artemis saw her mother for the first time in years, finally released from prison, she was greeted with extended arms and teary eyes. She can remember clearly what she had felt like at that moment. Confused. Repulsed. Cautious. Brows furrowed, eyes alight with curiosity. This was something she had never done, never had experience with. Her mother, an assassin just like her father, welcoming this type of behavior. It was more than a little odd.
Paula must have sensed her hesitance that day so long ago, because she had slowly wheeled over until she was directly in front of Artemis. Gently, she took her hand in her own, eyes rimmed with unshed tears, giving her daughter a shaky smile. Artemis, so unsure and wary of this type of behavior, took her time bending down to her mothers level. Gradually, her arms snaked their way Paula's shoulders.
She must have looked so awkward at that moment, arms bent at perfect ninety degree angles, hands clasped together, legs spread shoulder width apart. To this day, she looks back on it with a tiny, embarrassed yet sad smile.
That was the first hug Artemis can remember.
Over the years Artemis grew more comfortable with touching, but not by much. Her mother was the only exception, the only person she could hug or hold hands with without internally cringing.
But then there was Wally.
He had never been shy when it came to contact with others, always slinging an arm around M'gann, or having thumb wars with Robin, or even casually touching Artemis if the occasion called for it. She'd always take a step back, and eye him for a few moments, making sure there was no threat. It was a gut reaction, something engrained into her, and it would be a few seconds before she would be able to snap out of 'assassin' mode and back into the role of 'teammate'.
Several months passed before she could come to grow accustomed of these touches. An accidental brush of the shoulders or a squeeze to the upper arms. It became less of a nuisance and more of a routine. And somewhere along the lines, she found herself not quite so annoyed by it. Though she wouldn't admit it to herself, she began to like them, just the teeniest, tiniest bit. They became more of a sign of trust, a reminder that someone was watching out for her, rather than one of betrayal. It was comforting.
Even more time passed, and by then the lines of friendship and romance between Wally and herself blurred. The casual touches became deliberate, the teasing squeeze became a timid hug, and her hand was often occupied by his own. She didn't know when it all changed, when she started to want the feeling of his skin against hers. Before she barely tolerated it, and now she was anticipating it, getting a flutter of excitement in her stomach with the next hint of contact.
It's only now, when they're dating, that it hits her.
Lying in his bed, with the lights off and the credits to a movie rolling across the television screen as he sleeps, she realizes that she stopped keeping track. Artemis forgot about her no touching rules somewhere along best friend and boyfriend, something that she could never expect, could never hope, to happen. All her paranoia, her distrust of human contact was somehow gone, vanished, and she couldn't even remember when had lost it.
So tonight, with one of her legs trapped inside Wally's own, his right arm hugging her close while his left burrows under the one pillow, she doesn't have any desire to move. She doesn't shy away when she feels his slow, even breaths fan across her face, his mouth just inches from her own. She doesn't care that both their baggy pajama shirts have ridden up, and that his calloused hand is on her bare back, hers nestled against the warm skin of his stomach. She doesn't flinch when she feels his toes brush against hers under the covers. And she doesn't resist when he tugs her just a little bit closer in his sleep, so that now they lay flush against each other.
Artemis closes her eyes and relaxes, basking in this feeling. Peaceful and happy. These words sluggishly cross her mind as her thoughts slow and breathing gets deeper. With one last delayed realization, she finally drifts off to sleep.
Just because she was taught never to touch, didn't mean she couldn't learn.