A/N: This is a series of vignettes based on a Flash/Shay/John love
triangle. Yes, I know how it's going to end, but I could be persuaded to
change my mind. Tell me which you prefer. You know you want to. Violence,
romance, possibly bad language. Also, my characters tend to know who they
really are, and they don't run around in their uniforms all that often.
Flash goes by Flash because I don't like the name Wally. Ages are: Shay,
23; Flash, 26; John, 37.
Part: 1/10
#1: PRESS
" Shaaaaaaay!" the young woman straightened, only to be swept up into Flash's strong arms, spun in a circle, and sat down again. She glared half- heartedly at the tall man, unable to hold her irritation in the face of his smiling green eyes. " Whatcha doin?" he finally removed his hands from her hips, darting across the room to straighten a picture, and then darting back.
His light brown hair swirled around his head for a moment, before settling haphazardly. She fought the urge to straighten it.
" I'm preening," she unfolded her left wing to demonstrate what she had just finished before opening her right, which was still disheveled. " The feathers get all out of order, it takes me hours to-" she was cut off when Flash leaned forward, his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as his hands moved in a blur over the surface of her right wing.
She blinked, twice, and then he leaned back, grinning. She ran her fingers over the feathers, surprised to find each one returned to its place. After a moment she refolded her wings, attempting to conceal her surprise.
" Whatcha wanna do now?" he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, the blue jeans he was wearing stretching with each movement of his long legs.
" Well, you just finished what I'd been planning on doing for the next hour or so," she arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms.
He grinned, and his teeth were very white. " No need to thank me, really," he paused for a moment, and then sobered. " I was thinking-"
" Oh no," she drawled flatly.
" Hey!" he frowned, but only managed it for a moment before his usual smile broke threw, " As I was saying, have you ever been clubbin', Shay?" Apparently her blank look told him all he needed to know because he sighed dramatically, and pulled her to her feet.
" You've been on Earth how long now? Never mind, it doesn't matter. You're gonna go tonight," he began dragging her down the hall. The press of his very warm skin around her wrist distracted her for a moment, but then her mind cleared.
" What is this clubbing? You've left my hammer behind, if that's necessary. Where are we going?" He stopped, turned to face her, and rested his hands on her shoulders. He was so warm.
" First, we're gonna go get your clothes, then I'm gonna show you what clubbin' is," he resumed dragging her along, humming discordantly to himself as he did so.
" But I'm dressed," she glanced down, just to make sure. Yes, she was still wearing the yellow tank top, and her jeans.
" Believe me, Shay, clubbin' has it's own kinda clothes."
" I'm not sure that I possess clothes that would be appropriate for this clubbing," she attempted to pull free from his grip, but he was to strong, and she continued to be dragged away from her room.
" Oh, I made you some, don't worry. You know, I could carry you, we'd get there faster," before she could agree or disagree he had scooped her up, and shot off. By the time she was forming an objection she was on her feet again, inside Flash's room. She blinked.
He was no longer in front of her, and she turned to find him just as he appeared in front of her. He pushed a bundle of cloth into her arms, shoved her into a bathroom, and called threw the door, " Get dressed, I'm waiting."
She blinked again, before looking at the clothes that she held. Carefully laying out the outfit she finally managed to wrap her mind around the fact that Flash had made them. She was overwhelmed, but this clubbing thing did sound like it would be a break, something she desperately needed.
Removing her tank top was a task that took her a minute or two, due her wings. The shift she found was barely more than a piece of triangular green cloth, which had chords to be tied around her neck and under her wings. She tied it on, glad that she was relatively small busted. On Wonder Woman the shirt would most likely have not even covered half of one breast.
When she slipped out of her jeans she found an almost identical pair waiting for her. As she pulled the second pair on, she found that they had been slashed horizontally all the way down the front and backs of her legs. There were no shoes for her, so she pulled her sneakers back on before looking at herself in the mirror.
She did not recognize herself for a moment, and sighed. She'd been working too much; she had fully expected to see herself in her uniform. Starting for the door one more thing caught her attention. She still wore her mask, she bit her lip for a moment, and then carefully removed it, dragging her fingers threw her thick, cinnamon hued hair.
Flash was in front of her the moment she stepped threw the door, and he opened his mouth to speak only to have no sound issue from his throat. He stared, green eyes wide, down at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and pushed past him.
Flash found he couldn't breathe. She was gorgeous, but he'd known that already. He'd seen her face only once or twice in the past, and she hadn't been aware that he'd seen, never had he been able to look down into her eyes. Her eyes were pale gray, like the sky during a storm, and set perfectly in her round face.
His chest felt tight at just the memory of her body dressed as she was, and he had to shake himself before he could move. She was watching him, her head cocked to the side, he sped over to her, wrapped his large hand around her wrist, before reconsidering. He scooped her up, pleased, as always, with her lightness in his arms. Due to her hollow bones he could run with her almost as easily as though he was by himself.
He drew to a stop in front of the newly rebuilt plane, set her down carefully. He seized her wrist and drug her into the plane. " You wanna drive?" She smiled, and he thought his heart might explode it was pounding so hard.
" Oh yes."
*
They could not very well land the plane on top of the club they were going to, so Flash had Shay land on the outskirts of the city. To get to the club without a car meant one thing, he would be carrying her again. He scooped her up, and darted off.
He gazed hopefully down at her face after he set her down, hoping he'd see happiness there. For a moment she seemed surprised, her gray eyes wide, and then the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. " Ready?" She nodded, and he led the way into the club.
The music was pounding, a song he didn't recognize with a fast beat. The lights flickered and throbbed, at least a dozen colors of light streamed from around the room. " Wanna drink?" he had to yell to be heard, and she nodded, her cinnamon hair bouncing around her shoulders. " Wait here," he sprinted to the bar, retrieved two beers, and sped back.
He knew from past experience that she didn't like fancy drinks, and, fortunately, neither did he. She tipped the bottle up, and he watched her throat work.
Three beers later and he'd finally wrestled with his nervousness enough to drag her onto the dance floor. It had taken three beers to get her to loosen up, but he decided immediately that it had been worth it. The music was low and throbbing, and she moved with it like nothing he'd seen before.
More wonderful than watching her move was the way they moved together. Four songs later they were moving like one being, her back pressed against his chest, one of his hands splayed across her stomach, tracing the bunch and release of her muscles there. His other hand rested on her thigh, long fingers brushing across the skin bared by the slashes.
Her head was thrown back against his shoulder, one of her cool arms pressed against his face, her fingers wound in his hair. Her other arm was draped over his that rested on her stomach. The music pounded threw them, around them, and they moved in it.
She was pleasantly buzzed, quite possibly drunk, but that fact wasn't enough to explain the electricity that shot threw her each time Flash moved. Every bit of him seemed to be touching her, and she marveled in the warmth of his body. Was he always this hot?
Her mind skipped around erratically, to the thrum of the music, to the solidness of Flash's chest, to the rainbow hued lights, to his long fingers dancing across her stomach. Her heart was pounding; she worked her fingers further into his hair in an attempt to steady herself.
The world had faded away, as though nothing existed past the circle of Flash's presence. Except. She gasped, cut to the bone by a sudden intrusion into her reckless abandon. A face, a voice, echoed in her mind.
Flash bowed his head, pressed his lips gently against her throat, the vein that was pumping there.
To his surprise she twisted away from him, ran from the club.
He ran after her, but she must have taken to the sky, because he could see no sign of her. Sighing, he drug his fingers threw his hair and raced back to the plane to wait for her. When he arrived she was already there, in the pilot's seat, her face a blank mask.
As they rose threw the atmosphere Shay found it almost impossible to pay attention to what she was doing. In her mind there was a face that refused to fade or dissipate.
John, his smile easy instead of forced, his eyes aglow with their faint emerald light. She bit her lip thoughtfully, but he refused to fade, even in the fierce memory of Flash's lips on her neck.
Flash.
John.
Damnation.
Part: 1/10
#1: PRESS
" Shaaaaaaay!" the young woman straightened, only to be swept up into Flash's strong arms, spun in a circle, and sat down again. She glared half- heartedly at the tall man, unable to hold her irritation in the face of his smiling green eyes. " Whatcha doin?" he finally removed his hands from her hips, darting across the room to straighten a picture, and then darting back.
His light brown hair swirled around his head for a moment, before settling haphazardly. She fought the urge to straighten it.
" I'm preening," she unfolded her left wing to demonstrate what she had just finished before opening her right, which was still disheveled. " The feathers get all out of order, it takes me hours to-" she was cut off when Flash leaned forward, his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as his hands moved in a blur over the surface of her right wing.
She blinked, twice, and then he leaned back, grinning. She ran her fingers over the feathers, surprised to find each one returned to its place. After a moment she refolded her wings, attempting to conceal her surprise.
" Whatcha wanna do now?" he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, the blue jeans he was wearing stretching with each movement of his long legs.
" Well, you just finished what I'd been planning on doing for the next hour or so," she arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms.
He grinned, and his teeth were very white. " No need to thank me, really," he paused for a moment, and then sobered. " I was thinking-"
" Oh no," she drawled flatly.
" Hey!" he frowned, but only managed it for a moment before his usual smile broke threw, " As I was saying, have you ever been clubbin', Shay?" Apparently her blank look told him all he needed to know because he sighed dramatically, and pulled her to her feet.
" You've been on Earth how long now? Never mind, it doesn't matter. You're gonna go tonight," he began dragging her down the hall. The press of his very warm skin around her wrist distracted her for a moment, but then her mind cleared.
" What is this clubbing? You've left my hammer behind, if that's necessary. Where are we going?" He stopped, turned to face her, and rested his hands on her shoulders. He was so warm.
" First, we're gonna go get your clothes, then I'm gonna show you what clubbin' is," he resumed dragging her along, humming discordantly to himself as he did so.
" But I'm dressed," she glanced down, just to make sure. Yes, she was still wearing the yellow tank top, and her jeans.
" Believe me, Shay, clubbin' has it's own kinda clothes."
" I'm not sure that I possess clothes that would be appropriate for this clubbing," she attempted to pull free from his grip, but he was to strong, and she continued to be dragged away from her room.
" Oh, I made you some, don't worry. You know, I could carry you, we'd get there faster," before she could agree or disagree he had scooped her up, and shot off. By the time she was forming an objection she was on her feet again, inside Flash's room. She blinked.
He was no longer in front of her, and she turned to find him just as he appeared in front of her. He pushed a bundle of cloth into her arms, shoved her into a bathroom, and called threw the door, " Get dressed, I'm waiting."
She blinked again, before looking at the clothes that she held. Carefully laying out the outfit she finally managed to wrap her mind around the fact that Flash had made them. She was overwhelmed, but this clubbing thing did sound like it would be a break, something she desperately needed.
Removing her tank top was a task that took her a minute or two, due her wings. The shift she found was barely more than a piece of triangular green cloth, which had chords to be tied around her neck and under her wings. She tied it on, glad that she was relatively small busted. On Wonder Woman the shirt would most likely have not even covered half of one breast.
When she slipped out of her jeans she found an almost identical pair waiting for her. As she pulled the second pair on, she found that they had been slashed horizontally all the way down the front and backs of her legs. There were no shoes for her, so she pulled her sneakers back on before looking at herself in the mirror.
She did not recognize herself for a moment, and sighed. She'd been working too much; she had fully expected to see herself in her uniform. Starting for the door one more thing caught her attention. She still wore her mask, she bit her lip for a moment, and then carefully removed it, dragging her fingers threw her thick, cinnamon hued hair.
Flash was in front of her the moment she stepped threw the door, and he opened his mouth to speak only to have no sound issue from his throat. He stared, green eyes wide, down at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and pushed past him.
Flash found he couldn't breathe. She was gorgeous, but he'd known that already. He'd seen her face only once or twice in the past, and she hadn't been aware that he'd seen, never had he been able to look down into her eyes. Her eyes were pale gray, like the sky during a storm, and set perfectly in her round face.
His chest felt tight at just the memory of her body dressed as she was, and he had to shake himself before he could move. She was watching him, her head cocked to the side, he sped over to her, wrapped his large hand around her wrist, before reconsidering. He scooped her up, pleased, as always, with her lightness in his arms. Due to her hollow bones he could run with her almost as easily as though he was by himself.
He drew to a stop in front of the newly rebuilt plane, set her down carefully. He seized her wrist and drug her into the plane. " You wanna drive?" She smiled, and he thought his heart might explode it was pounding so hard.
" Oh yes."
*
They could not very well land the plane on top of the club they were going to, so Flash had Shay land on the outskirts of the city. To get to the club without a car meant one thing, he would be carrying her again. He scooped her up, and darted off.
He gazed hopefully down at her face after he set her down, hoping he'd see happiness there. For a moment she seemed surprised, her gray eyes wide, and then the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. " Ready?" She nodded, and he led the way into the club.
The music was pounding, a song he didn't recognize with a fast beat. The lights flickered and throbbed, at least a dozen colors of light streamed from around the room. " Wanna drink?" he had to yell to be heard, and she nodded, her cinnamon hair bouncing around her shoulders. " Wait here," he sprinted to the bar, retrieved two beers, and sped back.
He knew from past experience that she didn't like fancy drinks, and, fortunately, neither did he. She tipped the bottle up, and he watched her throat work.
Three beers later and he'd finally wrestled with his nervousness enough to drag her onto the dance floor. It had taken three beers to get her to loosen up, but he decided immediately that it had been worth it. The music was low and throbbing, and she moved with it like nothing he'd seen before.
More wonderful than watching her move was the way they moved together. Four songs later they were moving like one being, her back pressed against his chest, one of his hands splayed across her stomach, tracing the bunch and release of her muscles there. His other hand rested on her thigh, long fingers brushing across the skin bared by the slashes.
Her head was thrown back against his shoulder, one of her cool arms pressed against his face, her fingers wound in his hair. Her other arm was draped over his that rested on her stomach. The music pounded threw them, around them, and they moved in it.
She was pleasantly buzzed, quite possibly drunk, but that fact wasn't enough to explain the electricity that shot threw her each time Flash moved. Every bit of him seemed to be touching her, and she marveled in the warmth of his body. Was he always this hot?
Her mind skipped around erratically, to the thrum of the music, to the solidness of Flash's chest, to the rainbow hued lights, to his long fingers dancing across her stomach. Her heart was pounding; she worked her fingers further into his hair in an attempt to steady herself.
The world had faded away, as though nothing existed past the circle of Flash's presence. Except. She gasped, cut to the bone by a sudden intrusion into her reckless abandon. A face, a voice, echoed in her mind.
Flash bowed his head, pressed his lips gently against her throat, the vein that was pumping there.
To his surprise she twisted away from him, ran from the club.
He ran after her, but she must have taken to the sky, because he could see no sign of her. Sighing, he drug his fingers threw his hair and raced back to the plane to wait for her. When he arrived she was already there, in the pilot's seat, her face a blank mask.
As they rose threw the atmosphere Shay found it almost impossible to pay attention to what she was doing. In her mind there was a face that refused to fade or dissipate.
John, his smile easy instead of forced, his eyes aglow with their faint emerald light. She bit her lip thoughtfully, but he refused to fade, even in the fierce memory of Flash's lips on her neck.
Flash.
John.
Damnation.