By the time you read this, I'll have come back from State so any story posted after this, check the A/Ns to make sure I didn't go off and kill myself or something. I mean, last year we got 32nd (out of 300 something, give us credit), but this year we can do better. We have to! This is my last year on B Division! If I don't finish strong, I'll never make C Division which means I'll never be a Coach which means I won't get the A+ Program's 2 years free scholarship which means I'll never become a teacher which means I'll die alone with cats like daddy.
Anyway, to increase word count, I'll tell you how I got the idea. I was sitting in History, waiting for Jesse to finish his test so I could take his clicker up (we take tests on computer screens with remotes/clickers to record our answers). I was thinking of songs in my head when "Days Go By", the country song, went through my head. Then, I suddenly remembered the quote, "From your Flying Grayson days?" and it was just like- bam. Story idea. I wrote it on my hand, like a boss. In blue ink. And now I'm going to die of ink poisoning or skin cancer. *twitch, twitch*
Disclaimer: I don't own the song that inspired this, the show and episode that inspired this or the characters starring in this.
Wally's POV:
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls- although ladies and girls are much higher preferred because I don't want to be changing the sexuality of any unsuspecting men or boys- brace yourself because you're about to blown by Kid freaking Flash. Mind-blown that is, but halfway-sex is halfway-sex, no matter how many times you have to reword it until you can tell the world that your 'goods' are the luckiest on the planet because they've got the speedster magic on them! The mind is a part of the brain, connected the nerves which technically do go down to your reproductive parts, so if you have to go by technicalities, we got giggity by your twisted fangirl/boy logic.
Before we get to the metaphorical kinky sex time, allow me to give your intricate minds something to process while your lovely eyes scan my words: Hercules.
Now, are you confused? Are you wondering why I would bring up a handsome, modest, strong, well-built, red-haired ladies man of the best kind with a record as a world-famous fighter and savior? Well, it should be obvious! This Hercules is my twin, my blood-brother, my distance ancestor, the man I was in a past life. I mean, look at the similarities!
I myself, the humble Wallace Rudolf West, am of the greatest looks and the most impressing strengths, my reputation on the battle field and in the bedroom making me popular with the purest children and the sluttiest broads that this world has to offer! I'm a role model for the kids and their sparkling eyes, and a man to lust after for either gender even if the admittance of my amazingness are mumbled into a wooden closet door. It's okay, I won't tell the fact that you're in love with me like the rest of the world. No, seriously! It's okay! I think it's flattering.
But yet again, I bring up the question I asked you a moment ago: Why would I bring up Hercules? To answer that, think a bit. If I brought up a man who had to be my twin of a sort, wouldn't that mean I have someone else to make a comparison for? Don't answer that, it's rhetorical. If you did answer it, allow me to awkwardly pat your head with a smile and to falsely assure you that my respect in you hasn't changed in the slightest.
I could compare Supey to Bruce Banner, a.k.a. the Incredible Hulk. I could tell you how he turns into some kind of monster when he's fighting with the angry cries and the lack of sense, especially with his tendency to lose his shirt mid-fight. I could compare how he acts around the team and Megan specifically to the Bruce Banner half with how he loses the angry edge and has the potential to get sweet and friendly.
I could tell you how Artemis is like Rapunzel from Tangled. I don't mean the cute artsy side of the movie character either. I mean the side where she hits the only guy she's ever met in her life in the face with a frying pan, knowing that it could potentially kill him. Arty has the same temper problem, only she wouldn't use as simple a weapon as a frying pan. But, just like Rapunzel, she has a sweeter and flirtier side that I obviously bring out in her because I'm just that attractive. Don't deny it.
I'm not talking about blondie or the clone though. No, they don't deserve a story about them with my magical word powers that come with being a West. Then, you should be asking yourself, who is deserving a story about them? If you haven't figured it out by now by taking the hint from the character selections in this story's description, allow me to hand you your dunce hat and tell you that it's my darling Dick, my baby bird- not in that way. We're best friends. Piss off, pervs. [1]
There are so many people I can compare the Boy Wonder to. Besides the obvious Batman, there's Jim Carrey who can even make even his worst role into a wonderful masterpiece by simply laughing or smiling. I suppose I could compare him to Criss Angel too, but not in the 'hot aspect' as you might think. Although Robbie lacks the fake-magical attributes, he seems to amaze all those who lay eyes on him by doing what he loves.
There are a million more people I could probably think up that share even just a single trait with my best buddy, but I've been feeling quite mentally exhausted. Being a hero is hard work! Lately though, there's only been one 'star' he's resembled.
This 'star' isn't an actor, or an actress for that matter, but it's been seen in almost any sad movie or movies about circuses. It's that beautiful red balloon, floating with the pretty rectangle sparkle until some bastard comes along with a sharp object and stabs it. All that's left is a deflated red pile of rubber. That little pile of rubber that makes you give off a reluctant sad 'aww' even if it's just in your head; that's Robin.
No, Mr. Dark Glasses isn't dying, but I have a feeling that he wishes he was. That sounded bad, but I don't mean it to sound that way. I'm just saying that… well, he hasn't been happy for the past-… well… for a while. You're all used to seeing him laughing, giggling and smirking that adorable little smirk that annoys the piss out of me, but he hasn't done any of those things for far too long.
To put it into a perspective you can comprehend… Robin's lacking the aster he always boasts about. Your mask-wearing birdy has remained un-whelmed, despite his obvious hatred for the fixes fronted by pre's. See what just happened? I can word play too! It's not just him! That thing up there, in case you missed it, would be how Robin might say he hates prefixes. Fixes is the base word and if you front it by pre's, you put a pre in front to make prefixes? Geez… Cue a facepalm!
Being the best pal I am, I hate seeing my blue eyed buddy anything but happy. When he isn't laughing or grinning, I feel as if it's my fault and then by some odd mental reasoning, I get depressed too… and let's face it. When I'm sad, the whole world has a frown on their face. Who could smile at my pout face? It's like crack or something for everyone's sad glands.
Back to the point though, I hate seeing his eyeholes in a grin because that means he's beyond sad and at that point, I can't do anything but stare in depression. That guy tenses like a statue at the slightest touch. You'd think affection was rat poison to him! I can't ever comfort him- at least not with my mouth. Er- not like that! I never tried to comfort him with my mouth! I wouldn't kiss my bro! Gah! I meant like, talking! I can't-…
With my magic words though, here's the part I begin to blow your mind, I'm positive I can bring back the sunshine to his face. So that's what I did. I grabbed a stack of notebook paper, a few different colored pens and my MP3 Player for inspiration before lying on the floor of my 'room' in Mount Justice.
For a floor, that place is pretty comfy. I know, "wood and carpet, woo hoo, how wonderful those are for your joints especially while you have a world to save", but can it. Music numbs your nerves, or at least for me, and it helped the words come. For a speedster like myself, they came pretty slow, but after three crumpled up colorful papers tossed at the wall in anger, I finally found a start I liked. It was like a hot girl out in public. I was chasing this bitch until I had her down.
"Dear Robbie,
Hey bro! I bet you thought this was one of those cheesy middle school "I Love You" confessionals which probably got you all butterfly filled, but it's not and I'm sorry. If I was going to say I loved you, I would say it to your face like a MAN. Then you'd probably blush like you do before whipping out your tazor or bear mace (or both?) and using them on me until I was down on the floor twitching. Or Batman would come up just as I said, "I love-," and he'd beat the hell out of me. You know, because he's Batman.
This isn't about your dream relationship for us though, no matter how much you obviously want me. No, this is about the fact that some horrible creature has kidnapped the Robin I know and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get him back. If it's money that this creature is after, I'll work every corner until I have enough to bring him back. My buddy will not be probed! Not without me right there with a video camera. I'm kidding. Maybe. Unce, unce [2].
But halfway serious, what's wrong? I've never seen you this upset! Did… did you get raped? That's it, isn't it? It was Alfred, wasn't it? I wouldn't put it past the old geezer. I mean, he's old so he probably doesn't get a lot of action… and he has worked under the Bat for a bit longer than you… Dude, I'm here for you. I'll take care of you, take you in and break you in until your bum adjusts to the feeling for the future. Kidding- again. You won't make it very far as a man-whore. I mean, you're flexible and muscular, with a pretty face but… Alright, you would make it really far for a man-whore, but you aren't leaving me for a life with spread legs.
Did that cheer you up? Probably not, but I thought I'd try. Now, I'm going to try to get serious. I really don't know what's up your ass, but you need to go to a proctologist and get it out so you can start smiling again. I want my best friend back. Are you just going through a mood swing? I mean, if you are, chances are you're actually a girl… which would bring me back to having to tell you something to your face like a MAN. You could be my ho. Respect the pimp daddy [3].
I'm suspecting it has something to do with your Bat Daddy because whenever he comes around, you do that affection tense of yours, as if I'm hugging you. DON'T DENY IT, YOU LOVE MY AFFECTION. If it is… I want you to know that I'm here for you because… well… the easiest way I can phrase it is:
One day, "… From your Flying Grayson days?" will be, "… From your Dynamic Duo days?" and when that happens, I'll still be here, faithfully by your side as the best friend I promised to forever be. I might be in a wheel chair with my legs filed down to nubs, but you'll be beside me in your matching chair with the cape that billows when you pump the wheels fast enough and I'll make sure you're always laughing and grinning with your gummy smile.
See? I have a bromantically cheesy side, just like the fangirls/boys insist we must have. You know you'd love to be tapping this every night… or vice versa? You a bottom? KIDDING. JUST. KIDDING. I shouldn't be joking about that, especially when you're this lacking in aster.
Just know… even if I'm with one of the girls, my flirting senses up high, you're always the top of my priorities. (Looks like you're finally a top! Ha! Gay joke that I totally don't mean!) If you need to talk, it's Dick's before chicks, always. In the least homo way possible, I love you. Unless you want it to be homo in which case, imagine me doing my sexy pelvic thrust dance. Go take care of your excitement in the bathroom. If you ask nicely, I might help you… I'm sorry. That one was just awful… Back to the drawing board with it until I've maxed out the homo humor gene…
Long, long, never-ending story that you probably didn't read all of short- I love you like a bro and I'm here for you so cheer the hell up.
*Throws a bucket of aster*,
Wally
I have to admit, when I finished, my heart was hammering. Not because of all the sexuality teases in the note, but because I feared that it might not work and I'd have to work alongside a dead balloon for the rest of my term as a hero. I made sure to fold it up complicatedly; it was in the way they fancily fold those coloring pages at the restaurants that you spend forever trying to open before you get angry and just end up tearing it open. This way, Robin would change his mood from depression to temporary anger. That was a bit better, wasn't it?
Then I had to search the mountain for him. I searched the rooms, the weight room, the locker room through a squint just in case he was nude, the living room, the 'training room'… I finally ended up in the kitchen, drowned in doubt, only to find him curled up in a ball in one of the corners. I wanted to grin in relief, but he looked so…
You've seen the sad animal commercials right? With the "Arms of the Angel" song in the background, the animals all wounded and sad? The one that makes you mute the TV or change the channel fast so you won't cry? Take the emotions from all those bruised and hurt animals, bottle it up and force a teen to chug it down until they practically choke to death on it. That's how Robin looked.
His black hair was down over his shades, his frown hiding in his knees, this huge shadow hovering over him like a sickness. I knew I had to help… so I dropped to the ground and slowly crawled towards him until my thighs hit his calf. I turned in a way I sat identically to him, only more relaxed with my face revealed, before slipping the note into his lap with a faint smile. At the touch, he jumped a bit, but he seemed to calm down when he recognized me.
"Hey… KF," he muttered, his voice dry and hoarse.
He coughed because of it, picking up the note curiously. He lowered his legs so they lay out in front of mine, keeping my knees at an angle as he began to try to unfold it.
"What's this?" the sorrow was heavy, but I could hear befuddlement light on the edges.
I just smiled, "Read it."
He sighed heavily under his breath, rolling his eyes behind the shades before he finally got it open, his eyes widening at all the words. His shades met my eyes, his face gaining a completely helpless look.
"Wall-," he started to protest, but I touched a finger to his lips and shook my head.
"Read it," I repeated in a more demanding tone.
The little ebony let his shoulders slump, but he held it up, scanning every word. I trained my emerald eyes on his face, watching hopefully. I crossed my index and middle fingers, hoping that the old fashioned good luck charm would work for once. It did. Barely at first. My magic creeped under his skin and a shaky smile crept to his lips before that stretched to a grin, eventually forcing a soft giggle from his lips. I didn't think he could cheer up any more than that… but he did.
He dropped the letter, leaning over and hugging my knee tightly. For once, I tensed, but only in surprise! Shut up! I didn't expect it! I didn't push him off though. I put an arm around him instead, my mood elating when I could feel him laughing lightly.
"Thank you," he rested his head on the top of my knee, his blue eyes looking up at me.
They were still red, but that little sparkle was finally back. That was all I needed. That promised me I could joke around again with him which was one of the things I had been looking forward to.
"So… was I right? Was it Alfred?" I teased, grinning as his cheeks turned pink.
He leaned back, pushing my leg away with a scoff. I could still see his smile though, so I couldn't care less. I had my buddy back. Years could go by, but nothing could compare to this particular feeling. No sunshine ray could ever feel as bright as I did right here, right now. It could try, but if it did, I'd have to shoot its ass down with my water gun. I doubted the gun would ever come out from under my bed though. After all, who would question the pimp daddy?
[1] I told Noah that he should date his best friend Ozzy because they'd be a hot couple. No exaggeration. He got this offended look and told me to piss off. I thought Wally should have the same reaction in a bromance fic. Obviously denying the attraction. Pssh, we've all been there freckles…
[2] Unce, unce is the sexy music they place. The beat surges or whatever. It sounds cool.
[3] Kid Flash isn't the pimp daddy. No, Abby Catlin is the pimp daddy. She's even pimp to the guys in the music video to Bad by Michael Jackson. No one can top the pimp daddy. Not even the pimp momma. Don't question. She'll keep her hoes in line. Just remember: discipline *slap*, abuse *backhand*.
I hope you guys liked this. In my notes to friends, I abuse the 'no homo- unless you like it like that' stuff because I'm married to most of my friends. I love homances. With all my might. Just like I love my wives, especially Bri~. And my pimps: Jesse and Abby. Respect the pimps. RESPECT THEM. (; Review?
-F.J.