AN: Beware, Abuse lies ahead! Male/male relationships, graphic scenes of violence, and sexual content. This is rated M for a reason! You've been warned! Bring your toothpaste, for it ends fluffy!(ish)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own, you don't sue! Nor do I own the lyrics to "Life Less ordinary"
And finally, a thanks to SarahPants, my amazing Beta reader, the great lady who lets me pit my ideas against her brain.
The Night you came into my Life.
'The night you came into my life
Well it took the bones of me, took the bones of me
You blew away my storm and strife
And shook the bones of me, shook the bones of me
By the way, I do know why you stayed away...
I will keep tongue-tied next time'
The hard/soft sound of flesh impacting on flesh sounded hollowly through the apartment. The apparent loser of the argument hit the wall, head snapping back on impact. Blood marred Irish-pale skin, leaking from his nose to drip down over his lips.
"Fuck," Wally muttered, wiping a hand across his lips, smearing red over the side of his face. Green eyes widened in fear as his attacker approached, shadow falling over the abused hero.
"Please, I didn't mean to-!" his words were cut off by a hand, descending from above. As the sharp crack echoed through the room, tears welled up, slipping down his reddening face. His hands shook as he held them out, pleadingly, to the man hovering above him, "Baby. Baby, please forgive me..." a blow silenced the broken whisper, continuing on far into the night.
Six months later, at the Watch Tower...
The silence in the Monitor Womb was accompanied by the gentle hum of machinery, a soft sound that offered slight comfort. So high up in space, turning quietly around the Earth, watching over it as no one else did. He wouldn't admit it, but the sense of peace calmed the Batman, soothing his ragged, over-sensitive edges for several hours, allowing him some down time from the hectic, stressful (but so exhilarating) pace of Gotham. His city was a dark beauty, majestic in her tattered gown, a rose with a cankered heart. But it was his city, and he would protect it until he was too old to fly from building to building on zip lines. Or until he died. Which ever came first. But for now, his services were lent to the whole world- for these few hours, everyone had a Batman. Even if they didn't know it.
Images flickered across the bank of screens in front of him, casting his face in harsh patches of light and jagged, dark shadows. Various rooms of the tower flickered across the screens, showing members going about their business. J'onn sat with Green Lantern, playing what appeared to be a game of chess in the lounge. Hawk Woman lounged on the love seat, engrossed in a novel. A big page turner, by the looks of it. The screens flicked over again, flashing him a picture of Flash, as he materialised. Batman punched several keys, zooming in on the picture.
"is something wrong?" questioned a voice from behind him. He barely managed to keep from giving himself whiplash out of surprise. To the untrained eye, he didn't even seem surprised. But of course, the alien at his side, hand resting on the back of his chair, knew better. Lense-covered eyes snapped back to the screen, only to find the alien was missing from the monitor screens.
"J'onn," he greeted quietly.
"Batman," the alien responded in kind, eyed on the screen. "Something is wrong with Flash?" he phrased it as a question, but it really wasn't. The only person harder to hide from then the Batman was the Marshian Manhunter, telepathic resident of mars. Several keys were hit by gloved hands, minimizing the picture, and returning the screens to their normal, random searching.
"I don't know. He hasn't been himself." The marshian nodded to himself, clasping his hands behind his back.
"He is acting strangely, yes," he agreed, strange eyes studying the screen in an absent manner. Every time he saw Flash, the manhunter was bombarded by meaningless thoughts, such as what purple tasted like, or if koala's made good pets. As eccentric as the young hero was, he hadn't thought much of it at first. But as time wore on, he had caught him slipping up on the occasion; entering the watch tower with a nagging fear and exhaustion that was unlike the speedster. But he had kept his opinions to himself- for what he understood of human society, others did not like having their weaknesses and fears pointed out. The two remained silent for some time, letting time pass as they brooded their respective thoughts.
Batman broke the silence first, "He's hiding something,"
"I agree. His thoughts have been more erratically juvenile for the last few months. His actions are out of character."
"His actions are faked." the vigilante rumbled, narrowing his eyes behind his cowl. Flash had been far more subdued, but whenever he'd been confronted, he'd perk up, pulling on a wide smile, and claim he'd been 'lost in his thoughts'. Then he would escape to his quarters, with the excuse that he'd forgotten to feed his hamster.
"Flash does not have a hamster," J'onn pointed out, making the man twitch.
"Stay out of my head." He growled, irritated at letting his guard down. The alien blinked at him, before turning his attention back to the screen.
"Apologies. But he does not have a pet."
The look Batman kept giving the computer would have been enough to strip a man down to his bones. It was like he was trying by sheer will power to see inside the head of the speedster on the screen, until the man confessed his secrets and bared his soul. But Flash remained oblivious of the scrutiny, watching earth through one of the many windows. The young hero didn't look happy.
Growling, Batman stood, cloak rustling dryly against the hard floor as he moved towards the door.
"What will you do?" J'onn called after him, his quiet voice carrying easily across the vaulting room.
"What I do best," was the response, as the man swept from the room, "Detect."
Batcave, two weeks later...
"Alfred." One word greetings were a thing the old English butler was used to by now.
"Master Wayne. I hope today was successful?"
Bruce shook his head in disgust, tugging down the cowl of his costume, as he dropped heavily into the chair before his computer, running a hand over his eyes.
"I'm no closer then I was two weeks ago." Something was wrong with his friend, and despite his bests efforts, he couldn't figure it out. He knew the speedster's name. He knew where he lived. But this was the fastest man alive he was trying to shadow- Flash lost him without even realising he was there.
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. Something to drink?"
"Just water. Thank you."
As the old man turned to go, Bruce called out,
"Alfred?" the snowy haired manservant turned,
"Yes Master Wayne?"
For the first time in years, the Dark Knight hesitated.
"What.... what should I do, Alfred?"
Faded grey eyes studied him for a moment, with the same quiet intensity that had been there since he'd been a child. After a moment, Alfred smiled.
"The right thing, sir." With a pleasant smile, he excused himself, disappearing around the corner. Bruce Wayne stared after him for a moment, then sigh, slumping in his chair.
"...The right thing...."
Central City, that same day....
"Slut! You're seeing someone behind my back, aren't you?" a plate shattered on the wall beside his cowering form. He hated it when he yelled. And lately, it seemed like he was always yelling. Wally wasn't sure how it had started. It didn't really matter, anyway. Ryan was pissed, and when he got pissed, Wally got hurt.
They'd started going out almost a year ago. He'd been so sweet at first- flowers and chocolates, fancy dinners and moonlight walks. Wally's odd hours hadn't seemed to bother Ryan, and for the first time, he found himself looking at the possibility of a real, long term relationship. The idea had been so... so wonderful, he'd some how managed to miss the flashes of anger in Ryan's eyes when he spoke his friends. Or the times he'd hurt him by 'mistake'; a bloody bite during sex, an overly aggressive kiss. But shortly after they'd moved in together, things had begun to change. The anger came out more often, and the violence increased. The first time he beat Wally bloody, they'd been together six months.
He'd thought they'd been in love.
How could he have been so wrong?
Another plate broke, showering him with sharps of sharp porcelain. A large shard struck his cheek, scoring a thin line of red across his ghost-pale face. His freckles stood out in sharp relief, fear draining the blood away. Ryan was in full swing, swearing and spitting, kicking at him and throwing things. Cowering under his lover's rage, he couldn't think of why he'd stayed after that first night. Perhaps it was how sincere he'd sounded as he apologized? How he'd cared for him, then so tenderly made love to his battered body?
Whatever it was, he wished he hadn't. The tenderness was gone. Love had given way to possessive violence- his boyfriend had flipped out at him for anything. They no longer 'made love'; Wally was thrown on the bed, and Ryan raped him. There was no consent. Just pain if he obeyed, and more pain if he didn't. How had he ended up in this pathetic position? Why did he let this happen?
"You're nothing but a filthy whore!" Ryan hissed, moving so fast that Wally didn't have time to react. It was always like this- him, too intimidated to escape, and Ryan, all too willing to cause him pain. One hand wrapped vice-like around his wrist, wrenching him from the wall, and into the taller man's chest. He whimpered, shrinking back, only to stop as the Ryan's nails bit into his arm, carving red crescents into his flesh.
"You love me, don't you? Tell me you love me." He hissed. Wally could feel the tears building in his eyes, feel them spill down his cheeks.
"I... I l-love y-you," he sobbed in a broken whisper, curling up on himself as Ryan pulled him into a hug, rocking him back and forth as he whispered soothing words in a sick parody of love.
Flash was trapped in a nightmare he couldn't run away from. And he desperately wanted out.
JLA Watch Tower, the next day....
Batman hid in the shadows of the room, watching the teleport pads for any sign of use. When the faint shimmer started, he moved out- if the arrival proved no to be Flash, he sunk back into the shadows, watching until they left, and settled to repeat the sequence over again.
When Wally's assigned time came, and past, Batman started to worry. As an hour crept by, he could feel the tension building in his chest, twisting painfully around his heart. Something was wrong. Wally was never late. Agitation grew as another hour crept by- then, something snapped inside him.
Wally's in danger. He cursed himself for waiting so long- what if the speedster was already dead? Or dying when he got to him? With a snarled oath, he whirled around, sprinting down the halls with little regard to the heroes around him. Angry cries and confused questions followed him throughout the watch tower, with anyone who got in his way shoved roughly from it. His destination was the Monitor Womb, where J'onn was currently on duty. The martian would be able to find the Flash, given time.
Time he might not have, a voice whispered in his head- he shoved it away, snarling under his breath. They had time. They would find him. He was not going to let anything happen to the Flash.
He blew into the monitor womb, heading directly for J'onn as he spoke over the alien's confused questions, "Find Flash. He's late," he snapped, by explanation to the question the Manhunter's mouth hadn't even had time to form, "He's never late. Something's wrong." The martian blinked slowly, stunned into silence, but hurried to comply at the look on the Batman's face.
As the faint clicking of keys sounded from J'onn's direction, the Dark Knight moved to the window, gazing down at earth below them, eyes hidden behind the lenses of his mask. But his jaw was locked, fists clenched under his cloak, the muscles in his arms standing out in sharp relief. Don't let us be too late... Enough people had died that he cared about. He wasn't going to add the speedster to the list. If he had to claw his way all the way to the Speed Force, he'd do it. He'd bring the Flash back from the empty, complete death, drag him from Death's skeletal hands if he had to. Reaching out, his gloved hands rested on the bar, tightening around the metal until it, or the plates in his gloves groaned in protest.
Give us a little more time...
That very moment, Central City...
Wally sobbed softly, curling up tighter on himself. Everything hurt, despite his accelerated healing. Bruises from hours ago were still a livid black, angry and painful against his pale skin. Cuts still bled, red pulsing sluggishly through crusted patches of broken skin. Ryan had never beat him this badly before. If he had not been who he was, he'd be dead- in fact, he was beginning to think that was what his violent lover had been intending. He'd made it clear from day one what he thought of secrets- they weren't tolerated. But how could he have told him something so- so life shattering, as that the man he was dating was a hero? The one idolised by his city? Wally hadn't thought it was something his boyfriend had needed to know- or would want to know. He hadn't wanted to scare him off.
But now- now he wished he told him. If only so that he wasn't in so much pain. Another choked sob worked its way from his damaged throat. It came out horse and scratchy, his voice nearly gone from the combination of screaming, crying, and begging he'd done in the last twelve hours. Laying in the street, in a cold puddle of water and his own blood, he could vividly recall how it had all started.
Ryan had found one of his costumes. He'd been furious, screaming at Wally as soon as he came through the door- he'd thrown the scarlet costume in his face, gesturing at it in wordless fury. For a moment, Wally had been frozen, terrified that he'd been found out. Then Ryan had gotten up in his face, breath hissing across Wally's clammy skin,
" So, you love him better, do you? You little slut! I should have known you wouldn't be faithful!" in that brief moment, he'd felt a sense of relief so profound, his knees had nearly buckled. It must have shown on his face, because it only enraged Ryan further. Now, looking back, he realised that he hadn't bothered to deny it. That was probably why he'd hurt him so much- from Ryan's point of view, he'd all but admitted to his accused infidelity. If only by not denying it.
He couldn't have known it was impossibly for Wally to be unfaithful with the Flash- after all, they were one and the same. But, Ryan hadn't know. Even as a lethal combination of pain and cold slowly dulled his mind, Wally West was glad, in a distorted fashion, that he hadn't denied it. He'd given him a way out. A way from under Ryan's thumb, a path from his abuse. All he had to do was survive a few days more, and he'd be good as new.
Yet even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. There would be no 'good as new' for him, no happy ending. I'm going to die. In a puddle. In an alley of my own city. If he hadn't been so exhausted, mentally and physically, he might have laughed. It was just too much.
The Flash was going to die alone, in the middle of the day, in a puddle behind a Chinese restaurant he'd ate at every week as long as he could remember. And no one was going to know it was him- save the other founding members of the JLA, if they found him. He might be just another John Doe, some poor sob who'd bled away his last few minutes, completely forgotten. Unmourned by all.
Tears rose up, and threatened to kill him with the lump that developed in his throat. How could this happen? To him, no less? The salt of his own tears burned his skin, as they slide fast and hot down his face.
I'm going to die...
Funny. Dying didn't feel like it had last time- it felt oddly warm, the cold of the bloody water and pavement dropping away, replaced by a burning warmth. He could almost swear a hand was touching his face, a voice rumbling something at the edge of his under standing. Was that his name...?
"-ally! Wally-" he almost recognised it. But the familiarity of it slipped through his fingers, like water in his hands, dripping away with each heart beat. After what felt like an eternity, he gave up. Darkness rose to swallow him, but as he blacked out, he could help the feeling of safety. After all, if an angel was willing to hold him as he died, surely it wasn't as bad as they thought it was?
Two days later, Wayne Manner....
For the second day in a row, Bruce watched over the sleeping Flash, eyes narrowed at every painful noise, every fretful twitch. He still had no idea what had happened to him- after finding him behind the Golden Great Wall, bloody and beaten, the speedster had fallen unconscious in his arms. The ride from Central to Gotham had been the longest one of his life. Sure, the watch tower had better equipment, but Wally's attack seemed to be personal in nature; he'd been attacked in his civilian clothes, and dumped like garbage behind his favourite restaurant. There were tiny round bruises at the back of his neck, as it a chain had been ripped from around his throat- yet, who ever had stolen it had left his wallet and other valuables on him. A random mugger would have stripped him of everything that could be sold, not left it on him. What ever had been taken had been personal.
Blue eyes studied the sleeping speedster. All visible wounds had healed hours ago, bruises gone shortly after he'd gotten him to the Batcave, but Bruce had had the chance to look over the wounds, as he searched him for anything potentially fatal. Wally had been relatively lucky, strictly speaking; four broken ribs, but none had punctured his lungs; a fractured arm, broken collarbone, and hairline fractures on his shins, as if someone had kicked him while he'd been laying down. There was no doubt that who ever had beaten him had done so with the intent of killing him- why they hadn't stayed to make sure he was dead was not unexpected. Who ever had injured the hero obviously thought of him as worthless. Why else leave him with the trash?
The billionaire shifted, narrowing his eyes at the sleeping man. He knew Wally had enemies- didn't they all? But who of them knew his civilian identity? No matter how the Batman looked at it, it simply didn't fit the Flash's super villains. They were locked up, or not currently in Central City, and no sightings had been made within the last three days. Given the evidence, the World's Greatest detective had come to the conclusion that it wasn't someone from Flash's super hero life, but his Civilian one.
Some one had tried to kill Wally West, ignorant of the knowledge that he was Flash. So it left the question: Who?
***
Wally groaned softly, turning his face into the pillow as he sought sleep. But it refused to return, abandoning him completely as pain slowly filtered through his dulled senses. Faintly, he remembered what had happened. Ryan had beat him, worse then ever before. But he felt so warm- and he was in pain, so obviously, he wasn't dead. Did that mean they'd made up?
He snorted softly, nuzzling his pillow. Well, obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in such a nice bed, with such nice sheets....His lips curled into a goofy smile, as he let a hand wander under the covers, almost purring at the silky smoothness. He didn't remember buying such nice sheets. Ryan must have, then, as a surprise. A frown creased his brow- something at the back of his mind was nagging at him, wailing that he pay attention. Ryan had hurt him. Badly. His brain slowly hummed to life, all pistons firing. It kept coming back to Ryan hurting him- flashes of pictures, snatches of words. The name calling. The pain. The suit.
All the colour drained from his face, as he sat up slowly, green eyes wide and unseeing.
Ryan had found his Flash suit. Did he know?
The events of the night before came back to him slowly, like molasses, reluctant to leave the safety of his hind brain. As it came back, relief swept through him. Ryan might have tried to kill him, but he hadn't discovered his secret. He'd thought he was cheating on him- the thought crushed Wally's heart- but he hadn't figured it out.
With the relief, his muscles stopped vibrating, stilling as the fear drained away. Curiosity replaced it, as he looked around the spacious, luxurious room. French doors and a large bay window took up most of the west wall, looking out over manicured lawns and perfect gardens. Wally frowned, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as he leaned forward, squinting out the window. This looked like...
"Ah, master Wallace. You're awake."
In hindsight, his terrified-lady-wombat scream might not have been the best of first impressions. Alfred smiled at him from the doorway, looking only faintly amused at his reaction.
"Master Bruce said you would want to eat, should you wake up today." The specific phrasing caught the startled red-headed speedster's attention. Alfred could see him rewind the conversation, face pinching at the implications.
" 'wake up today'? like, after-sleeping-through-yesterday, today, or two-year-coma today?" the older man gave the distinct impression that he was trying very, very hard not to smile, and placed a laden tray on the foot of the bed.
"Breakfast, Master Wallace. I am sure questions can wait until after." Wally took one took at the tray, and decided explanations could wait for a little while.
***
Bruce was busy chipping away at the problem West had brought with him; namely, the identification of his abuser. Knowing the Flash as he did (which wasn't nearly as well a great portion of the League, he was frustrated to admit), the kid (man. Why was it so hard to remember that?) he'd never tell if approached directly. But he wasn't about to let him go prancing back home to who ever, or what ever had beat him so badly. He frowned, punching in another set of commands, then settled back to watch the results.
Central City wasn't like Gotham. It wasn't dark, foreboding, or nearly as dangerous as Gotham- and unlike his city, its heroes weren't on its city's police force 'most wanted' list. Not that the Gotham PD did anything to try and apprehend the Batman....
Bruce suppressed a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to gather his wandering thoughts. It was all so distracting, what with Wally upstairs, and the problems the young man presented taunting him as they were. He liked Wally. Sure, at times he was easily distracted, bordering on A.D.D., but his heart was in the right place, and he genuinely tried to help people. Even his Rogues. The speedster was simply too friendly to have earned such a dangerous enemy- and to his civilian identity, no less! The fact he had worried Bruce- both the man, and the bat sides of her personality. His two lives were connected to the Flash, and neither wanted to see him hurt. That they had, and could do nothing more then patch him back up angered him.
This wasn't how I wanted to spend the holidays... with one last heavy sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face, setting the computer to hibernate as he stood. A little coffee would do him no harm...
The giant screen went dark as he exited the Batcave, climbing the winding stairs back up to the mansion.
***
Wally had inhaled his breakfast at an alarming rate- for Alfred, anyway. Although, it had been a nice change to have someone actually eat everything on their plate rather then simply push it around with their fork until some alarm summoned them away, thus saving them from the heralds of broccoli. As he watched the speedster down his seventh helping, he was reasonably sure the young man remembered to chew at least every second mouthful.
Five weeks later, Wayne Manner....
A redheaded, human blur whirled past Alfred to press its speedster nose against the frost edged glass of the large bay window. The butler smiled, "Perhaps Master Wallace would enjoy some time outside today, Master Bruce?" a half turn, so that the old man could cast a wry smile at the surviving Wayne.
For the most part, Bruce had kept to himself for the past several weeks. He'd –barely- kept from grilling the speedster, trying a more Superman approach of 'letting him tell me in his own time'. It was proving to be more difficult then he'd first anticipated; instead of Wally cracking under the dark, brooding glares Bruce kept trailing him with, the young man had bottled it up with smiles and jokes. Unlike Batman, Bruce Wayne wasn't intimidating enough to make the speedster confess. And it irritated the hell out of him. He turned blue eyes towards the excited West, before sighing, marking his page before closing his book.
"I suppose."
Those two simple words landed him with a sudden armful of happy Flash.
"-" a large hand clapped over his mouth, effectively stopping the spill of excited words. He could feel the redhead grin against his palm, a soft rasp of chapped lips that sent a shiver down his spine. Unwittingly, an answering smile- small in comparison to Wally's- spread across his own lips.
"You're welcome, Wally. I'm sure Alfred can find some snow things for you."
***
In hindsight, a snowball fight with the fastest man alive wasn't the best of ideas. Bruce brushed the remains of the latest attack out of his hair, smiling at the grinning redhead.
"Come on, Bats! That the best you've got?" Wally teased, hands packing the latest of his icy missiles as he spoke. The only thing Bruce had in his favour was that the speedster couldn't use his speed to make snowballs- too fast, and they melted from the heat created by air friction. So Wally had to stick to strictly human speed when making his 'icy balls of doom', as he'd taken to calling them. That had been after Bruce had insisted that he could not just fling loose hand full's of snow at him. But that didn't mean he couldn't fling snowballs at him at inhuman speeds.
He chucked another snow ball, anticipating Wally blurring out of the way at the last moment- prepared, he hurled two more while the speedster was gloating, catching him square in the face. The redhead yelped as snow splattered across his face, spinning around as he scrubbed it from his eyes.
"No fair!" he vented, spitting out a mouthful of snow, and glaring at Bruce with one annoyed green eye. Bruce simply shrugged, offering his teammate a cheerful smile, "Well, if you're going to gloat, you really should move around a bit." The redhead gasped in mock outrage, clutching at his chest as if wounded by his words.
"That's it, Bats! You're goin' down!" snow whipped through the air, as Wally chased Bruce, two handfuls of snow held high in the air. For once, he stuck to the same speed as his friend, content to continue to game.
Alfred tweaked the curtain back into place, a smile hovering on his lips. Yes, it was exactly like having a child back in the manner- or, right now, two children.
"Perhaps the young master has finally found a match," he mused, to no one in particular, as he closed the door quietly behind him. If he hurried, he could have some cookies ready for the two by the time the came back inside.
***
Wally stumbled inside, laughing breathlessly. Bruce followed, giving the younger man a good natured shove to get him through the doorway, and into the mud room. Both men were soaked, snow sliding off their coats, and out of their hair as they moved. Wally's stuck up at odd angles, darker then normal due to the wet flakes still stuck in it. He dropped onto one of the wooden benches, leaning forward with a grin.
"Admit it- I whooped your ass out there!"
Bruce arched a brow, pausing in the middle of towelling his hair to give him an amused look,
"This coming from the man who looks like he took a swim, rather then a snow ball fight."
Wally grinned wickedly, "Not my fault I'm hot. You don't look much better, you know."
"Flattery will get you nowhere." At Wally's confused look, he smirked, then added, "But if you insist on calling more attractive then yourself, I will have to accept the compliment."
He kicked off his boots, leaving the spluttering redhead behind.
True to his name, Wally caught up quickly, covering his embarrassment with a cocky attitude.
"Smooth, turning my compliment against me. But it totally doesn't count, you know. 'Cus I didn't say it."
"Say what?"
"That your more attractive the me- Damn!"
Bruce laughed, clapping the fuming speedster companionably on the shoulder, "maybe next time."
Wally blushed vibrantly, muttering to himself as he turned his head away quickly. But Bruce caught sight of his smile, although he reframed form commenting. The two men walked together in silence the rest of the way to the kitchen, following their collective noses to the waiting plate of Alfred's cookies.
***
"Wally, do you remember what day it is?" Bruce asked later, as the two sat in library. Wally looked up from his game in confusion, "Wednesday?" he hazarded after a moment, looking more confused by the second as Bruce's look of amusement increased.
"What?" he demanded, putting the game down, "What?" his look of confusion morphed into annoyance as the other man laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
"Twenty fourth."
At Wally's continued look of puzzlement, he lifted a brow, adding with rich amusement, "December."
A moment of silence. Then,
"It's Christmas?!"
Bruce laughed- Wally continued his little freak out, fisting his hands in his hair, "It's Christmas, and you didn't tell me?!? I haven'tgottenanything!presentschocolate-ANYTHING!" his words blurred together as he looked about in panic- as if something might magically appear.
"Wally."
"Howcouldyoudothistome?!Christmasandyoudidn'ttellmeand-"
"Wally!"
The man froze, looking over at Bruce. Green eyes impossibly wide, he stared stupidly for a moment, before his face went scarlet, and he spluttered, embarrassed. "W-what?"
Bruce smirked, "Merry Christmas, Wally."
The man frozen, then tucked his arms in tight, hunching his shoulders like a pouting child. Bruce's wicked grin tweaked wider- he could see the man's ears flushing an even darker red, as he mumbled under his breath. It was a flustered, but heart felt 'merry Christmas.' In light of the season, he chose to forgive the dark 'jerkface' at the end of it. Having embarrassed the young man enough for one evening, he withdrew with a quiet good night, leaving Wally to his thoughts.
***
Wally hugged himself, sitting with his feet tucked up on the no-doubt expensive couch. Face still flushed from the latest teasing delivered at the hands of the Dark Knight, his head was swimming. Things had changed so much over the last few weeks; before moving into the Wayne manner, he never would have thought Batman could smile, let alone laugh- but now, he couldn't imagine why he'd thought that. And then there was the teasing-! He felt warmth creep back into his cheeks, tucking his knees up tighter so he could lean his cheek against one knee, eyes overly bright, and swallowed his tears. Half heartedly, he wondered why he was so miserable- wasn't this his dream? Living with The Batman. Life couldn't get any better then this, could it? But the sob caught in his throat said it could. Did Bruce even realise what he did to him? What he'd always done to him? He flustered him and intimidated him- dark and brooding, the Batman had been untouchable, an idol to be looked upon from afar. Living with him had changed all that; Bruce was far more approachable then the Batman, warmer-Great Cosmic Muffin, his laugh-!
He'd fallen in love with him without even realising it. When he'd finally realised it, it had been way too late- and now he was going to spend the rest of his life pining after the man under the mask.
The wonderful, friendly, incredibly handsome man behind the mask.
Now that he knew him- and meant really knew him- he couldn't help but feel incredibly young. Bruce had been so kind- despite the fact he knew he was dying to grill him about how he'd ended up nearly dead, he never asked. He was waiting, Wally realised, for Wally to tell him. No one had ever shown that much patience with him before- every one just treated him like a child, demanding he do things their way, and grow up. But Bruce hadn't – sure, on missions, he'd lost his patience once or twice, but Wally was big enough to admit that he'd had those ones coming.
When it counted, Bruce treated him like an adult. But did he see him as an adult? Or was he just indulging him?
He groaned softly, burying his heated face in his knees. Why did everything have to be so complicated?
Bruce was his friend. Wasn't it written somewhere that you weren't supposed to love friends like that?
He scoffed softly, curling up on his side. Merry Christmas indeed.
If there was one thing he'd learned about love, it was that is wasn't suppose to hurt so much.
***
Bruce slipped down the fall, frowning to himself. He'd made Wally miserable, and hadn't the faintest clue what he'd done wrong. Surely it wasn't the teasing-?
Damn.
Sighing, he scrubbed at his eyes, sudden exhausted. He'd think on it tonight, and if he couldn't come up with something, then he'd ask Alfred in the morning. The old man always knew more then he let on, after all....
***
Alfred sighed to himself, shaking his head over the state of young Wallace. Really, the two of them were completely hopeless. Smiling to himself, the old butler gently lifted the sleeping Wally's head, sliding a pillow underneath it, before covering the speedster with a blanket, tucking it in carefully. It had been a long time since he'd played matchmaker, but he figured he was up to the challenge....
Sighing to himself, the snowy haired manservant straightened, looking down at the redhead's sleeping form, lined face softening into a look of tired affection. He was so energetic, so full of energy. It was really the greatest joy to have Wally in the manner, bringing the tired stone to life with one of his sunny smiles. It wasn't Wally's fault Bruce was denser then two short planks when it came to the younger man's feelings. He just needed a helping hand, perhaps a good strong shove in the right directions. Smart as he was, it shouldn't take Bruce too long to put things together... A smile twitched the old man's lips, and if it does, then I do believe I can set some, ah, 'hints' for him. Lead a horse to water, as it were. He had no doubt, in his old, sly mind, that given the right prompts, the young master would drink.
Five days later...
At the first bolt of lightning, Wally shot out of bed, fully upright before his brain had even realised what had startled it. Green eyes blinked away the dust of sleep, watching the storm for a few quiet moments as it broke over the hunched shadow of Gotham. Vaguely, he recalled there being a storm warning in effect, issued the night before. Combing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, Wally glanced around, noting the fire had gone out some time ago. A cold breeze whistled down the chimney, raising gooseflesh on his arms. Shivering once, he snagged the abandoned blanket from the bed, wrapping it around himself before he ventured into the hallway. Like most of the mansion, it was dark and empty, stone floor cold against his bare feet. Bats is probably still out. It seemed about right. But suddenly craving company, Wally decided to check his rooms- just in case. If he wasn't there, he could always wait. Destination in mind, he set his feet upon their path, moving at a sedate walk- for once, moving slow didn't feel awkward. He was sleepy, relatively warm, and had absolutely no reason to be rushing. For once, he'd be normal without having normality forced upon him. The faint 'pat pat' of bare feet against polished marble mixed with the rain, fading slowly into the distance.
As he walked, his thoughts turned back to man behind the mask. Bruce had become strangely indulgent of him, lately. Weirder yet, Alfred seemed to have taken to hovering around the billionaire, and every once and awhile Bruce would start to say something, only to be cut off by some cryptic comment. The first couple times it had happened had startled even Wally into silence. But Alfred had simply smiled, nodding at his master's look of confusion, and made some light comment about the weather, then tottered off.
It was the tottering that had made Wally suspicious. Men who routinely chased down, and patched up the Batman did not totter. But what was he gunna do? Frankly, Alfred didn't seem the type for hurtful plans, so whatever he was planning, it wasn't with malicious intent. With that in mind, Wally filed the whole thing away under 'Weird, harmless stuff', and continued his little walk.
Bruce's room was in another wing from his own, on the far side of the house; Wally was up every morning with the sun, seeing as it rose on his side. It was only logical that a man who haunted Gotham's streets by night would want the one set of rooms in the house that didn't get sunlight until well after noon. But it was a long way to walk in the dark, gloomy mansion, what with the thunder echoing through the empty halls, lightning painting everything in harsh black and white every few seconds. Not that it frightened him- lightning had always proved to be fascinating for him. Bright, loud, fast- what wasn't there to love? And no two bolts were alike. Normally, he'd be sitting with his nose pressed to a window, or out there in the rain, laughing up at the glowing sky.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he wanted the company of a man whose smile made his breath catch in his chest; whose laugh squeezed his heart every time he heard it. A man who was completely oblivious to the sheer amount of love Wally held for him. Regardless of how painful it was to be around Bruce, that was who he wanted. Because he was the one person who had shoved aside all the bullshit, and told him how it was. That night flashed through his mind,
"Listen to me, Wally. I don't know what happened to you, why, or who, but these things don't matter. You are safe here. For as long as you need it, this is your home." Batman had fixed him with a stare, before one dark glove had reached up, and tugged the cowl back. Wally hadn't quiet been able to smoother his gasp of surprise, but the Batman had continued, "This is your home. There is no room barred to you. You know my name. Now you know the rest of it. We are here for you, Wally." He'd stood from the speedster's bedside then, looking down at him with a grave expression on his previously unreadable face, "Always." Then in Dark Knight style, he'd swept from the room, dissolving into the shadows beyond the door. For obvious reasons, Wally had stayed.
Even thinking back on it gave him shivers. Had Bruce realised how intense he'd looked? How his blue eyes had seemed to be looking into Wally's very soul? Probably not. He stifled a sigh, raking a hand through his hair in a helpless gesture of frustration. The Batman had managed something no one had ever done before, without using force: He'd stopped Wally in his tracks. Captivated his soul.
He huffed a sigh, groaning at how – how twelve-year-old-girl I sound, he thought, amused despite himself. Here he was, wandering the halls of Wayne Manner in his P.J.'s, and fawning over Bruce Wayne like a pre-pubescent girl. Well, he'd officially hit the last rung on the ladder of self respect with that thought. With a snort, he stopped at Bruce's door, knocking softly, just in case. After a handful of seconds, he opened the door, slipping inside. Like he'd suspected, Batman was still out. Dropping his blanket by the door, Wally made his way to the king sized, four poster bed, dropping onto it without a second thought. Almost immediately, he sank into the down comfiture, the dark fabric conforming to the curve of his body. Bruce's scent floated all around him, and he breathed it in, inhaling deeply as if trying to catch a tiny piece of the man, so he could carry him with him always. With the scent came peace, and like a performer waiting in the wings, sleep saw its cue and rushed out, bundling Wally off into sweet dreams.
***
Frustrated, and soaked to the bone, Bruce tugged his cowl off his head, dropping it on a work bench as he set about removing the rest of his battered, wet costume. Well timed as always, Alfred appeared at his elbow, several thick white towels in his arms. Piled on top, loose sleepwear. With a grateful sigh, he accepted both the towels and clothing, quietly dismissing further offers of assistance.
A half hour later, he trudged up the last of the steps from the Batcave, slipping quietly into the bare hall. Thunder still rocked the sky from time to time, but it was farther off, fading more into the distance with every strike. Unconsciously, he matched his steps to the distant sounds, moving silently through quiet halls, longing for his bed with every tired bone in his body.
What he found in it gave him a moment of pause, before Bruce scoffed softly, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he shook his head. There, curled up on top of the covers, was Wally, out like a light. As he watched, the redhead moved, shifting in his sleep- curling up tighter with a mumble he couldn't quiet make out. He shut the door carefully, not wanting to wake the man up. Of all the times for him to pull this stunt.... but the thought lacked venom. Truthfully, he didn't mind, and if the redhead was here, at least he didn't have to worry about him.
But still! He could have at least gone to sleep under the blankets. A shiver from the sleeping form proved his point.
Still shaking his head at it all, Bruce tugged the towel from his shoulders, crossing the large room to the bed. My side, too, he mused, as he carefully scooped the redhead up, cradling him against his chest with one arm while he turned the covers down with his free hand. Wally curled into his warmth, mumbling non-words under his breath as he tucked his face into the crook of Bruce's neck. Bruce froze for a second, a half-formed fear of the speedster waking up right then, and the awkward, misleading explanation that would have to follow- but then the younger man sighed softly, twitching his nose into a slightly more comfortably spot before relaxing back into deeper sleep, muscles going slack. He caught the relieved rush of air behind his teeth, gritting them as he finished pulling the blankets down. Moving carefully, he placed the sleeping Wally down- on the opposite side of the bed. If he was sharing, then he was having his side, dammit. The redhead showed no indication he'd noticed he'd been moved, settling down with a soft noise. A ghost of a smile crossed his face, tired eyes softening just a touch. Oblivious, Wally slept on; surrounded by a scent he associated with comfort.
The moment passed, dying a soft, natural death as exhaustion swept over him, bearing down on his limbs. Conceding, Bruce slipped into bed, pulling the covers up as he scooted across the mattress, slipping an arm around the redhead's shoulders, moving him closer until Wally slept within the cradle of Bruce's embrace, hair fanning out over his arm, while the speedster's hands curled gently in the fabric of Bruce's shirt. On impulse, he pressed a soft kiss to that soft red hair, before letting sleep pull him under.
The two slept, as the storm slowly faded away, skies clearing until the moon shown, full and bright.
Okay, here's how it is: This has been labelled 'in the works' for near six months. So (because, frankly, it was long anyway) I've cut it in half, and will post the second, sexy half as soon as it's done. Reviews are like dog treats- they encourage me. SO.
You like?
You review.
Resulting in a quickly posted chapter two.
.......Aaaaand I'm offfffffffff~! *poofs away*
