Author's note: Alright, don't expect too many Spitfire fics/drabbles from me. I don't like this pairing. But it was begging to be written. I do plan on doing a Wally side to this. So I hope all the Spitfire/WallArt fans enjoy this.
He is in the kitchen shoveling chips into his mouth by the handful when she walks in. He had paused in mid bite, mouth hanging open with a wad of chips laying on his tongue, half chewed. She fought the urge to snap at him, to tell him to close his mouth and chew his food. Instead, she pushes her way past him, pulling open the fridge to get out some milk. She was going to ignore him. Because despite what Black Canary thought, it wasn't interesting that she was worried about what Wally thought of her. Because she wasn't worried about what the stupid red headed speedster thought of her. She doesn't bother to get a glass, opting instead to just drink straight from the carton.
She can hear him swallowing the mouthful of chips. Hears the rustling of the bag as he crinkles it up, hears the swish as the bag is thrown in the garbage. And she doesn't turn around, even though she knows he missed the garbage can and the bag is now lying on the floor. She takes another swallow or two of the milk. Before replacing the cap and setting the almost empty carton back in the fridge. She counts to 100 in her head -twice- before turning around and closing the fridge door. She wants to be sure he has left.
And then somehow she is on the floor, back pressed against the fridge. Knees up to her chest. With tears stinging at the edges of her eyelids. She stares at the bag of chips just laying a few feet away from her. She can still smell him in the air, he has this tendency to put his cologne on a little too strong. Not that she pays attention. Because it really isn't interesting that she is concerned over what Wally would think of her secret. She doesn't care what Wally thinks of her. Doesn't care at all.
