A/N: This was written for a friend, and based off an RP with my lovely Brucie Bruce Grim Lullaby. Any and all concrit is welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured in this fanfiction. I make no profit from this work of fiction; it is purely for entertainment purposes.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.
Having another mouth to feed every morning wouldn't have been too much trouble if that extra mouth hadn't belonged to The Flash. Alfred smiled good-naturedly, humoring the flame haired man as he cracked an obvious joke about his age. He'd become accustomed to the man's, admittedly, predictable humor over the past few days and wasn't at all surprised when he laughed at his own joke. If being the butt of a few jokes meant seeing Bruce without his trademark scowl after a hard night, then so be it. It had been such a long time since he'd resembled anything remotely happy.
"More coffee, Master Bruce?"
The low muttering of 'No thank you, Alfred.' sent the butler to the other end of the table where he offered the speedster juice or milk.
"Enough with the 'Master Wallace' stuff Al, just call me Wally already. And how come you didn't offer me any coffee?"
"Please, do not call me that."
Wally nodded vigorously once the butler stopped using refilling his orange juice glass as an excuse to lean over him with a pointed glare. It was no mystery where Bruce got his own withering stares, that was for sure.
"With all due respect, Master Wallace, I do not think you need any coffee. Now, is there anything else you require?"
With Wally's plate already piled high with pancakes, bacon, eggs, waffles, fruit, toast, sausage, and bagels, all he needed was a bowl of oatmeal. He received it with a nod of thanks, digging in the moment Alfred turned to check back with Bruce. For some reason the subdued man had actually started eating at the breakfast table, a fact of which Alfred was grateful. Not everything about the speedster was as repulsive as his dining habits.
"Sho, whatsh tha' you're readinsh?"
Bruce managed, somehow, to keep from grimacing as his guest sent bits of egg and toast onto the polished wood of the table. The moment the words were out of his mouth, Wally continued eating, stuffing down sausages at a sickening pace. How eating had become appealing once the man started coming around was beyond him.
"Gotham Gazette, Gotham Globe-"
"Newshpaper? But breakfasht ish-"
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Wally."
"Shorry- uh...," he sputtered, slapping his hand over his mouth at the disapproving look sent his way. Swallowing, he smiled sheepishly and shrugged. Bruce rolled his eyes.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.
Whether it seemed weird for the playboy prince to own a sprawling garden hardly mattered when said garden was walled in by towering hedges. The spiffy socialites, plastic dolls and stuffy businessmen that attended his obligatory parties never had the nerve to voice whatever opinions they may have had about it to Bruce's face. Wally, however, was so close the man could smell the citrus on his breath.
"This place is huuuuuge, how many times have you gotten lost back here?"
The redhead ignored the silent look he was given, turning his back on the skeptically arched brow as he scrambled to try and climb the hedge.
"Get down from there, you'll fall and break something."
"Hold on I just wanna-"
Listening wasn't one of Wally's strong suits. He abandoned the hedge in favor of the easier to climb branches of a pea green willow. At the tree's base was it's owner, sighing and staring up at the grown man that should have known better than to be scrambling up trees in the first place. Wally scaled it, albeit with a bit of difficulty, and took a seat in the boughs.
Obviously the speedster hadn't thought his plan through; he frowned deeply when he realized the drooping foliage of the tree created a thick curtain that obscured his view of the rest of the garden. When he finally found his way back to ground level he found Bruce seated on a grotesquely carved stone bench. It was tucked away just inside the cover of the willow's branches, and though he knew it was only a carving, he still shied away from the snarling heads of gargoyles whose bodies were bent painfully for the convenience of resting arms.
"Why are you here?"
Wally had opened his mouth but for once Bruce beat him to the punch, and instead of nonsensical drivel about the creepy decor he now had something more relevant to focus his thoughts on. Not that speaking was all that easy with the man's dark eyes boring directly into him.
"I... uh... the food is good?"
Bruce wasn't a clingy man. He might have been familiar with West, shared touches even, but he found the man was, well, annoying, even after a short period of time together. The runner was like a child; sure he could be mature when he needed to, but the majority of the time he was adolescent and needy. The sudden arrival on his doorstep four days ago before breakfast hadn't surprised him, it was the fact that he kept coming back. On top of that he stayed after the meal was done and made infuriating attempts to stick by his side for the remainder of the day.
It was confusing to say the least.
Wallace was spontaneous and his attention shifted often. To see the man making some sort of attempt at a routine was just odd.
"And the truth? Now would be a nice time."
He watched the light flush rise, nearly making the pale freckles on the man's cheeks invisible. A shift here, an abashed chuckle there, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck as he averted his gaze. Instead of letting a smirk play across his lips, Bruce merely narrowed his eyes. It was the only way he'd get an answer out of him anytime soon.
"Okay, okay, put it away, geeze," the redhead muttered, playfully blocking Bruce's vision with an upraised hand. The stern look softened, but it didn't disappear; Wally probably would have bolted otherwise. "I just kind of figured, since we, ah... you know," he motioned with his hands, painting an invisible bridge between their lips with a few quick swipes of his hand through the air, careful not to actually touch the other male,"that you wouldn't mind me hanging around. I mean- I like spending time here and you seem like a pretty lonely guy anyways, so it'd be a total win-win, y'know? Unless you didn't want me around, but I think you would have told me by now cause, don't get me wrong but, you're pretty mean. And standoffish. And blunt- wait, you're not asking me to leave now, are you? Oh... crap, crap! I'm so dumb, sorry Bruce, I didn't realize-... you don't really want me to go, do you?"
Why Wally had decided to give him 'The Eyes' was beyond Bruce, and he fought not to give the man a smack. All throughout his babbling the glare had been returning, and now it bore down on Wally fully, both for jumping to conclusions and for dropping insults like marbles. Did he not realize what came spilling out of his mouth? Surely he had some idea of what he'd just said.
"I don't know what you think this is, but I think you'd be better off going back to your own home."
The statement was blunt and though the tone was devoid of a harsh edge, Wally still felt like he'd been slapped. So much for being subtle. For what it was worth he was never really good at tiptoeing around his feelings anyways and, honestly, he shouldn't have to be going through the trouble of lying about his clinginess in the first place. The thought that maybe he'd jumped the gun a little by repeatedly inviting himself over to the man's house crossed his mind before he folded his arms stubbornly over his chest. For every ounce of hope he put into the thought of them having a relationship Bruce seemed to want to find some way to siphon it right back out.
"I can think for myself Bruce, and unless you're serious about kicking me out, I think i'd like to stay." His words were brash but his pout said other things about his demeanor that the statement could not. "Y'know, for a guy with a crap ton of stuff you sure are bitter. Won't let anybody talk to you, won't let anybody try and get to know you. You're a stubborn old man." If anything, Wally expected to be shoved; he jumped a little when Bruce suddenly chuckled.
"You've got the hardest head here, I highly doubt you're in any position to be accusing anyone of being stubborn."
A weight lifted momentarily, and the air was cleared between them. At least until Bruce spoke again and crushed them both back down into place.
"I know you're feeling put off, but you've got it easy compared to me. Relationships... are not my thing. And even if they were...," Bruce's voice dipped low, quiet and soft and barely audible," I have an... a certain image to uphold. Batman can't be at his best if Bruce Wayne isn't there to keep attention off him and cover his tracks."
Judging by the sincerity of the apology in his voice and the look in his somber blue eyes, Wally could safely assume that Bruce thought he was letting him down easy. Maybe the fact that he wasn't quite ready to let the other go was what skewed the words into something insulting and demeaning. It sounded to him like he'd just been given the nice version of, 'I'm a billionaire, a celebrity, and you're a nobody. Of course you don't have to worry about being a faggot, no one gives two fucks about what you do.'
"Well excuse me then." Green eyes narrowed into thin slits, and Bruce knew he'd slipped up.
"I forgot Her Majesty has to look good for her subjects at all times. Sorry for getting away from myself and trying to actually give you the time of day." By now Wally was on the far side of the bench, a gnarled griffin claw digging into his lower back as he turned to confront the man directly," I can't believe i'm with such a self centered prick."
It was Bruce's turn to swivel, watching the runner with a subdued frown. "Who said we were together?" He hadn't meant to hiss so venomously, but the shocked expression the words earned was surprisingly sweet.
Wally's brows had risen high, eyes so big and round that Bruce could have easily mistaken him for a child that had just been told he would'nt be going home to the same family anymore. And just as quickly the expression was gone, replaced by a sneer and a hateful look that suggested an anger he'd never shown anyone else.
"Sorry, let me correct myself; I can't believe i'm the whore of such a self centered prick. Life is so much better now. Thank you so much Bruce for helping me realize that."
Bruce could honestly say he'd never heard the man use such a nasty, malevolent tone before; Wally practically spat at him. He frowned deeply, deciding he didn't like it one bit.
"Wally, don't be stupid, it's never just simple," he sighed. The other was standing, back turned and hands shaking. Wally was doing that odd twitch thing with his foot again, and if it progressed into a full fledged toe-tap then Bruce knew he'd be very alone, very soon. Hesitation could have it's turn later, right now he just needed him to understand. "Contrary to what you believe I... love doesn't make everything."
Well that definitely stopped the speedster cold. Tension came and left in waves, flowing from shoulder to heel and back up again until Bruce was tempted to ask him,'Why vibrate now of all times?' Those soulful green eyes were merciless when they were on him, picking at his shell until he had to build another one just to hide the cracks of the last one underneath. Bruce cleared his throat and Wally returned, doubtful.
"I'm not a child, I know that, but it's a little hard to give credit to someone who seems to welcome conflict all the time," he slumped down beside the darkly dressed male, his own orange-yellow shirt mimicking the glow of the sun,"pessimism is tiring."
"Optimism is far more troublesome than it's given credit for." Bruce ignored the incredulous look, continuing on with his train of thought, "I still don't see why you're sticking around."
All of a sudden the floor was so much more amazing than the firm arch of Bruce's cheek, far more entertaining than the bridge of his nose or the deep blue of his eyes. The bitter chuckle sounded like it belonged more to the man who owned the manor. "Guess you got me there. This whole thing is pretty screwed and, well... I guess optimism is the only thing keeping me here..." With his head in his hands he could afford to let out the shuddering breath, afford to let his shoulders slump and collapse because he knew he could manage to keep himself together just as long as he could lean. "Who am I kidding, it's probably me just being selfish."
Unneeded light hit the backs of his lids as a hand was pulled away, settled on the cool bench between them, and squeezed. "I wish... I had as much optimism as you," Bruce muttered.
Whether it was the light or his actual face, Wally couldn't tell, but Bruce almost looked embarrassed. Was he blushing? Slowly he allowed himself to return the grip, curling his slightly tanned fingers between the pale ones already hooked around his hand. All the frowning he'd done in the past few minutes was washed away by a single bright grin, the familiar ache in his cheeks a wonderful kind of pain. "If you let me I can have enough for the both of us."
Bruce struggled to hide a smile of his own,"I don't think it works quite like that."
"I know, but a guy can hope, right?"
Just being around one another could be difficult at times, but Wally liked to believe they'd found a dynamic that worked for them. Sometimes Bruce was a little too controlling, too ready to assume others understood what he himself could decipher in seconds. Sometimes Wally was a little too dense and a little too sprightly. But that didn't mean either of them didn't notice. It didn't mean they didn't care.
"Look, sorry if I move too fast sometimes, I tend to do that... a lot. I'll try to tone it down a bit."
A reassuring squeeze made Wally smile and he chanced a searching glance at the older male's face. "It's okay, Wally. It's who you are and annoying as that is, I li-, uh... don't mind it. I'll try to be a little... nicer." A playful cringe on the last word inspired a light laugh in them both, and they shared the moment, basking in the simple ease of it.
"This... is kind of nice. Just sitting, I mean. S'not so bad when ya got company."
Bruce realized just how much he enjoyed the sound of Wally's voice. He was calm, they both were, a feeling of serenity slowly settling that made a pleasant tingle run down his spine, tapping the tension from every muscle it touched on the way down. He smirked lightly, a hint of mischief in his voice,"If only the blinding glare of the sun wasn't scorching my retinas."
"Sometimes I forget you're a night owl," Wally snickered. "We could always go inside." Contrary to his words, however, he didn't seem to be preparing himself to leave. In fact he was sinking closer, his own shoulder pressing lightly into Bruce's side. Short red hair tickled the underside of the other man's chin and his smirk widened as he seized the opportunity to lean in and insert a lewd suggestion straight into Wally's ear, hot and low.
"Only if you promise to put that mouth of yours to better use."
Before Wally could question him a hand was on his butt and he was jumping to his feet, rubbing the slightly sore spot where he'd been pinched. "Woah! Hey, okaaaay~," his cheeks flushed red and this time his freckles did disappear, though it was more due to the face splitting grin than the sudden dousing of color,"Not gonna kick me out this time, are ya?"
The good natured chuckle should have been infectious, should have spread to Bruce and he should have shrugged off the suggestion playfully in return.
"Maybe not."
The reply wasn't as upbeat as he'd hoped.
"'Maybe not'? How big of a maybe is it? A never maybe?"
Bruce's eyes had turned surprisingly cold and Wally couldn't figure out what had brought on the sudden change fast enough. His head spun, and as he took the time to collect himself Wayne broke his reaction down to the molecule.
Slouched stance, wide eyes, slack jaw, color draining. He was shocked; a good sign. It meant he cared. Bruce didn't move an inch, refusing to break the hold he had on the younger male's gaze. He liked Wally, he really did, but pursuing something with him so soon, something so serious as an actual relationship... Given their jobs, their secrets, the risks, who Wally was, Bruce didn't know if the guy was serious or if he was just infatuated. Waynes didn't have time for games, they were either dead or dying, and with so much already on his plate another heaping of stress and heartache was not something he wanted to have to consider.
"As in I probably will." Sure it hurt to do, to watch, but it was necessary. If Wally was really willing to take that chance then he needed to stop flinching and start demanding, really commanding Bruce's attention. If he wanted him he would have to fight for him.
The first twitch of hesitation was a bad omen. Wally shifted as if to move forward, as if to open his mouth and argue, but then just as suddenly he drew back. His mind was racing a mile a minute, 'Does he hate me?'s and 'What's his problem?'s dancing around his head until, finally, he settled on one thought: 'I just told him i'd go slow; is this... the pace he wants to set? Treat me like one of his... girls?'
"Oh... well, one step at a time, right," he said uncertainly, a weak shrug and smile his only attempt at covering up how awful he felt with nonchalance," after you, rich boy." With a wave of his hand he gestured back toward the manor, his arm feeling like a lead weight.
So that was it then, that was the extent of Wally's perseverance. The grin crept up on Bruce from somewhere deep inside, somewhere bitter. Like a shadow, the dark edges of it clawed at his lips until they stretched up, thin, into the hollowed expression that failed to reach his eyes. It was one practiced and untrue; the smile he wore for the magazines and billboards, the mask above the mask, perhaps even more impenetrable than the Knight himself. It hurt to wear it.
Why was Wally lying to him? He could see the pain in the man's eyes, could see the way his hands twitched, threatening to clench at his sides, yet he insisted on giving in to the hurtful words instead of fighting them. Bruce hadn't taken into account how much it would trouble him if the redhead failed the test, and he was failing badly.
Something ached in his chest, raw and hot and slowly churning, turning to something else entirely as he reached out and looped an arm around Wally's waist. He pulled the younger male back into his lap, wanting to comfort, wanting to apologize, but that knife twisting in his heart made him spiteful, 'If you really wanted this then you would fight harder for it', and before he could stop himself the Prince of Gotham beat Bruce Wayne to the punch.
"You were'nt kidding about that whore thing," his voice was deep and rich, and not the least bit broken. Damn the money, the fame, the need to have that fucking mask at all. Oh God what had he done?
The tension then was palpable.
The back of Wally's neck burned, the words seared into his flesh by the panting breath they'd escaped from. Each new wave of heat drew his mind further away and he tilted forward suddenly, jerking away from the man's mouth by a few inches.
At the same time that Wally's hope was wilting and collapsing in on itself, Bruce's was slowly budding. Wally was stiff in his arms, twitching under his touch as if disgusted. He'd turn, he'd look at him, he'd scream at him and hit him. And then Bruce would apologize, let Wally run off, chase after him and apologize again and again and explain and eventually the other's heart would give in and he'd forgive him. Go ahead Wally, turn around, I know you will, his mind encouraged.
But Wally didn't round on him with an expression twisted with hurt and fury and betrayal.
He didn't turn at all.
Instead he sank back, his body a block of stone against Bruce's front. He swallowed thickly, adam's apple bobbing, and when he spoke his voice quivered with defeat,"That's what you're used to isn't it? What you're comfortable with?"
When Bruce didn't answer he grabbed the man's hand from his waist and slid it between his thighs, guiding the strong fingers to cup him through his jeans, even as he tucked his head in under Bruce's tightly clenched jaw. Wally wasn't looking at him and the probability of it happening in the near future was zero.
Did he really want Bruce bad enough... bad enough to do this? It didn't take long for him to decide that, yes, he did want him that badly. 'Fine Bruce, you wanted it this way, now take it.'
"We gonna go inside or we gonna fuck out here with the birds-"
A bruising grip clamped around Wally's upper arm and he was pushed and then dragged to his feet and into the house, stumbling after the touch that he wished was more sincere.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.
Wally had moaned at first, melting into the touches, succumbing to the silent pleas and wordless apologies.
Bruce quickly found out, however, that the speedster could be a cruel, cruel man. He paid dearly for every squirm and groan he received, for every willing twitch into his hands; it all ended when he spread the man's thighs and pushed his way inside. The once writhing body stilled, Wally's breathy cries choked back into wheezing pants, his lips pressed into a thin line and eyes shut tight. With only the sound of his own breathing to keep him company Bruce felt a shock of something he never thought he'd experience when in such close quarters with another human being again; isolation.
The quiet wasn't a chummy companionable silence, nor was it an unquestionable moment between lovers. It was stiff, and it was cold and it was... dead. It reminded him of that alleyway from so long ago, rotting and rancid and eaten up by darkness, swallowing his parents and his childhood in one fell swoop. 'Oh God-'
Wally looked lifeless.
It was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving him confused and breathless.
"Wally?"
The young man's head moved; he heard him, he simply was no longer reacting. He was ignoring him. Bruce brushed a hand down the side of his face, a gentle action, but it garnered no response. The silence made him shudder.
No. Wally wouldn't, couldn't do this to him. He was supposed to forgive him for what he'd said, forgive him for the insensitivity he'd turned on his advances because now it was okay. Now they were together, now they were making... it was love wasn't it? Another stroke graced a lightly freckled cheek, and still there was no response. No, no love there. Wally was letting him use him.
God Bruce wished he would look at him, just open his mouth and say something, the silence was becoming unbearable. With a growl he dug his nails into slim hips and watched the ginger brows furrow. No response otherwise. Again his nails dug in and again nothing happened save for a subdued twitch. The heir, roiled to anger by desperation, began moving again, pounding into the passive man with a vengeance.
'Speak!,' he wanted to snarl,'Open your eyes! Touch me, look at me, do something!'
It hurt.
Bruce was hurting him. 'Shit.' Wally wanted so badly to cry out, to tell him to stop, but the animalistic growling strangled the air from his lungs. Was this what the women the playboy brought back from wild parties saw? What they felt like? Trapped, and afraid, and suffering? He'd seen this side of Bruce on the streets, though then he hadn't been Bruce he'd been Batman, and his anger had been directed at thugs, and killers and thieves.
What the man had said earlier, it hurt. Wally was pretty damn sure something had been emotionally severed, and now torn between anger and despair he denied Bruce the pleasure of seeing him squirm. He wanted him, wanted the man that hadn't spat those cruel words at him or stripped him bare with that disgusting leer, but heaven help him he couldn't bring himself to roll over like a wanton bitch and accept him. What he'd thought he was doing, when he suddenly clammed up and turned away, was making a point; he wouldn't just be some random lay, Bruce had to earn his sincerity back. He hadn't expected it to affect the man so much though. It scared him to think that something so simple as ignoring him for a short while could set him off so badly.
The grip around his waist was tight and he shuddered at the feel of the muscle encasing him, arms looped around his lower back and forcing him to arch into Bruce's thrusts. Instead of touching back, he insisted on tearing at the sheets, yet another thing that seemed to spur the heir's rash behavior. Wally rode out the wave as best he could, sticking to his silence even when he felt a mouth on his chest and neck. If Bruce had been trying to confuse him he'd done a good job of it, slowing down just once, long enough to try a gentle coaxing of sound out of him, prying at his lips with his fingers. It hadn't lasted long; when he went in for a kiss Wally turned away yet again and ended up with a crushing grip on his jaw. Bruce had snarled, actually snarled into his face, a shredded version of his name to try and force him to react, before breaking under the strain and giving a raw groan as he reached his peak.
Wally was out of the bed before Bruce could think to lie on him, rushing to the bathroom to dress, shivering and still half hard. He heard his name again, this time a weak and reluctant moan, but he shunned the pitiful figure tangled in the sheets and disappeared from the room.
Alfred pulled back from the stairwell, quickly tucking away his polishing rag and dusting his gloves when he head a familiar swish. Wally was suddenly at the top of the stairs, staring at the door just across the foyer.
"Master Wallace, are you in need of assistance?"
The question was innocent enough but the Fastest Man Alive looked at him as if he'd told him the sky was falling. He disappeared and reappeared, frozen on the last step, leaning forward at a precarious angle; he'd only managed to catch himself by reflex. Momentum could be a bitch when you were descending stairs at almost sixty miles per hour. Alfred was watching him though not disrespectfully so, curious but subdued enough so as not to seem intrusive or out of line. It was obvious by how shiny the floor was that it had just been cleaned, and Wally reduced himself to a normal, human speed, hoping to god Alfred wouldn't say anything about his slight limp.
Whether the old man didn't notice or didn't care didn't matter; either way the redhead was grateful for the silence. "I, uh, I'm fine Alfred, I was just going. Have... have a nice day."
A quiet 'Thank you, Sir' drifted after him as he stepped out into the light of a sun that was far too bright and cheery to feel right. Shame almost sent him reeling when the beginnings of something wet and warm snaked down his inner thigh. It couldn't... he had to get it off.
Now.
Wally tilted forward and let his mind go, escaping into the balanced step-push measure of a high speed dash. Maybe he should have just stayed up in that willow.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.