Alright so, this is my first-ever attempt at a KND fanfic. I just saw the show on TV for the first time in YEARS, and then I suddenly found myself in the world of amazing Three&Four fanfiction and fanart, and here I am! I'm hoping that this isn't OOC for either character (but then, it's difficult to write OOC when the story takes place six years after the series ended).
The cover art for this story is by Tinysoder on Deviantart (: She has tons of Three&Four fan art in her gallery, so definitely check it out!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story. It's very short - much shorter than I wanted - and probably not my best work. I JUST COULDN'T GET THESE TWO OUT OF MY HEAD D: They're so adorable! :')
Hold On
Some things you can never let go of. I have a particularly bad habit of holding onto the past and all of its treasures, which I'm only now beginning to realize. At the peak of this problem is the fact that I've held onto my comfy green shirt (which I eventually filled out and modified into a zip-up) for all of these years. Wally, at first, tried to give me a hard time about it - of course that was only until I yanked on the frayed fabric of his trusty orange hoodie, sleeves ripped off and hem riding up his hips. At the bottom of my problem is Wally, himself.
Every time that I look at him, I see the same mischievous eyes and cocky smile that I've known for the better portion of my life. He's different, though, and it bothers me that I can't pinpoint what it is. Sure, I can spot the physical changes in him (oh boy, can I ever spot those; his muscled arms, his toned abs), but it's something in the way that he treats me. As always, he loves to get under my skin, but something about it feels different - something about him feels different.
We're together now, bickering loudly as always. The way we're going on makes me glad that no one else is around to be irritated with us. We're going on and on, throwing insults back and forth so tirelessly, and yet I'm fairly certain that neither of us remember what even started the fight to begin with. Something petty, I'm sure, that he did just to make me angry. He must find some sort of fun in it, and at the end of the day, I suppose that I can admit that I don't mind all that much either.
"Pork-for-brains!" he yells, pointing his finger and causing the couch to squeak as his weight shifts. "You wouldn't know the difference between Deathstroke and Deadpool if the two were standing right in front of you!"
Oh, that's it; apparently Wally does remember what we were arguing about. I let out a frustrated growl, turning my face away from him and crossing my arms. "Because I don't read comic books! Would you just let it go already?"
Then, as if by some strange and mystical force, all of Wally's resentment seems to vanish.
"Alright," he says, smiling at me. His green eyes challenge me through the ends of his hair as he rests his elbows on his knees - another ploy to agitate me, I realize when he holds the pose and expression steadily. This is the side of Wally that I can't make sense of; he only started doing this a couple years ago, and it's confused me ever since. Not that it's incredibly odd for him to stare me down. No, more that he seems to have some other motive - as if he's trying to tap into my mind. Sometimes it feels like he actually manages to do so. For a few minutes I attempt to ignore this irritating stare. I look everywhere in the room besides Wally, determined to deny him the satisfaction of any reaction towards what he's doing.
"You know, if I'm so irritating why don't you just leave?"
Another challenge; he doesn't mean it, as is made clear by his still-present grin. The question does spark some thought in me, though. I would never admit it to him, but Wally is as fun as he is annoying. Rather than tell him this, I roll my eyes and scowl at him.
"You're such a kid," I remark, and his smile reverses into a frown. I instantly regret saying it, knowing that I've just started a new argument.
"I'm a kid? I bet you've still got your cruddy Rainbow Monkeys all lined up on your bed!" he glares.
"You're wrong!" I exclaim. They're not on my bed; they're safe in the top of my closet (yet another example of a part of the past I've never let go of). "I'm so sick of arguing today! I came over to watch a movie, so if that's not going to happen then maybe I should just go home."
He only stares at me, with no smile on his face this time. Feeling irritated and flustered by the strange feeling in my stomach as his stare deepens, I let out a huff and stand up, leaving him behind on the couch. However, I only make it a few steps before I feel a tug on my wrist and I'm suddenly being whirled around. I'm more alarmed by the soft thud of my body against the wall than I am injured by the feeling. I'm caged by Wally's arms on either side of me, pinning my wrists to the wall, and upon making eye contact with him I lose my breath, now noticing the tingling sensation where his hands are touching me. Still, he says nothing, but I'm so captivated by his stare that I don't fight him.
After a solid minute, I begin to relax, the stiffness in my body disappearing. He smells like pine trees, I realize, of course with a slight mix of musky sweat. I smile inwardly at this, thinking that his scent is quite a bit like his personality: sweet, with noticeable roughness. It's almost endearing, although he's presently making me quite nervous. My eyes flicker up to meet his once again, and this time I refuse to look away. I can feel his breath on my face as he leans in close to me.
"Neither of us are kids," he whispers before pressing his lips firmly against mine. I find myself responding in spite of my surprise, my hands slipping out of his grasp and winding around his neck. He pulls me closer to him, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft, and they're gentle even as they roughly move against my own. We break apart when the need for air becomes great, but his mouth still lingers near until he moves to rest his forehead on mine.
"W-was that okay?" he asks, a heavy blush covering his cheeks.
It was more than okay; it was perfect and wonderful in every way. Still trying to regain my breath, and feeling a little short of words as well, I reply with a simple "Yes."
His eyes wander off, and his arms return to the place that he had held my wrists on the wall.
"Wally?" he looks back at me. "How long have you been wanting to do that?"
A crooked grin crosses his face. "Longer than you know, Kooks. Longer than you know."
"That explains a lot," I reply, thinking of all the times that he may have tried to tell me. Smiling, I lean in and kiss him again, and when his fingers tangle in my hair I imagine that I could do this all day. Falling against the wall once again, I realize that there's no way we're watching that movie today, but contrary to what I said earlier, I'm not going home. The past, amazing as it was, seems so dim in comparison to this. Although the memories are great to look back on, I don't think I'll be holding onto them as tightly as I have been - not when I can find happiness in holding onto Wally instead.
Hooray for super cheesy endings! Woot woot! (; Thanks for reading!
~ZuEra