A/N: I had this thought and just wanted to write it and here it is and I don't even really ship it that much, but then I write this and I look at my life and I pretty much do ship it second handedly XD I blame Sarah.

Disclaimer: I do not own at all on any level.

Takes Some Nerve

Palms sweating, muscles twitching, collar too tight. Wally wants to run, run away as fast as he can, feel the wind rush its way across his freckled skin and fiery hair. The light, cool breeze already pales his ruddy cheeks and makes his rosy blush a pale peach.

Can he leave yet? His sneakers mask fidgety toes, and he's only wringing his hands behind his back. Wally's pretty sure he'll melt as soon as the front door opens. He'll just be a puddle of mush that's drowning a red turtleneck and a pair of jeans. But it might be easier than what he's about to do.

Yeah, death might be easier. He wants to bathe in the sweet fog and cold ice of Death's arms and watch the darkness swallow him. But he can't. He's got higher priorities and embracing Death certainly isn't an option even though ever fiber of his body is just twitching and quivering and shivering and shaking with this anxiety that he swears will surely kill him on the spot.

There's no way he'll get through this without massive amounts of stuttering and sweating. Wally doubts he'll have the nerve to really go through with the whole thing.

"Master Wallace?"

Well, no going back now. "Hey, Alfred," he answers as calmly as he can; to his own surprise, his voice is strong.

"Master Richard isn't home, I'm afraid. He's on call in Blüdhaven at the moment, but I can take a message for you if you'd like." There's a brief, curt chuckle at the other end of the line. "Although I'm quite sure you could make your own way over there with ease."

Wally feels the surveillance camera analyze him a bit more curiously, and he wonders which of the two men inside is watching him with such scrutiny. "I'm actually here to see Bruce. That is, if he's not busy right now." And a big part of Wally is praying that he's in a meeting or at the Watchtower or even in a foreign country making deals with evil dictators...

"He's downstairs." Alfred clears his throat to indicate the Batcave. "I will call him up for you at once, Master Wallace." And Wayne Manor's front gates open up before Wally, allowing him instant access to the world that is home to Gotham's White Knight, a couple of acrobatically trained kids, and their ever-faithful butler.

And Holy Hell does Wally feel so much smaller. He's going in to face one of the world's biggest billionaires who also just so happens to be the goddamn Batman and if that isn't daunting and terrifying and pee-your-friggin'-pants scary, Wally doesn't know what is. Still, he goes in. Priorities.

Besides, Batman isn't that scary...right?

It's Tim that opens the door. "Hey, Flashboy." He's much more comfortable in his civvies, eyes shown for the world to see. There isn't that same formal, terse tone he keeps when with the team. "Bruce is in his office. You know where that is?"

Wally's coy smile is all it takes for Tim to roll his eyes and say his gentle "C'mon" to which Wally responds with by shuffling his way behind the teenager, following quickly but quietly. He doesn't have a whole lot to say because it's not like they're family and they're just barely friends, so this whole thing may be weird for Tim, but he's being pretty cool for being recently orphaned and for being Bruce's mini-me.

After a minute or two of walking through winding corridors, they slow. "He's in here." Tim stops at the door and just gestures to the handle. "And if you get lost when leaving, yell for Alfred and he'll find you on the security cameras."

Wally offers a faint smile. "Thanks, Drake."

No response, just a nod, and Tim heads off in his own direction, hands in his pockets and eyes watching timber beams and crown molding go by as if the ceiling is the sky...

The door itself is huge, and the man inside is even bigger. Metaphorically, of course. But still. Wally won't melt this time. He knows that much. But still, he's shaking slightly. He picks at his jacket's very interesting zipper, picks at the turtleneck's suddenly constricting collar, and rolls his shoulders to burn some more time; he cracks his neck and takes a few deep breaths. "Come on, West. You've got this. Suck it up and go."

Realistically, talking himself up does little for his self-esteem and certainly knocks his confidence down a few pegs. Because jeez, he's talking to himself, he feels crazy. Wally takes another deep breath, holds it, and then releases the carbon dioxide. Yeah, he'll be fine. Just go in there and do it. Do it, come on, it's not that hard, just go, open the door-

Wally knocks. Damn, he feels like such a moron. Still. Priorities. His own comfort levels have been challenged hundreds of times before.

This is so much worse.

"Come on in, Wally," floats the voice from the other side of the door. Disembodied words.

Yep, Wally's going to die. He's going to walk in there, get one Batglare, and have Death swallow him whole. And he doesn't want to die yet. Not today. So he goes on in.

Each side of the room bears massive dark oak, full-wall bookshelves. It strikes him as more of a library than an office with all of the books upon all of the shelves. And across from the door sits a daunting desk with a daunting man behind it, a massive full-wall window behind him.

He feels like he's walking into a movie where the bad guy is sitting in the chair and will turn around stroking a big Persian cat at any second. But Bruce is no bad guy. And he's not a big cat fan. (Unless Catwoman counts, in which case he loves cats. Meooow.)

"Alfred said you wanted to see me." Bruce's words are calm and patient as Wally slowly sneaks his way into one of the three chairs opposite to his massive dark oak desk.

"Yeah." Wally finds his voice isn't shaking. He doesn't feel very confident, but he knows he is. His heart is racing in his chest due to fear: fear of rejection. "It's about Dick."

A black brow arches on Bruce's naturally solemn and stoic features. "Is there something wrong?"

A nervous laugh escapes and Wally lets that smile overwhelm his features because it feels better than trying to keep a cool demeanor; a smile soothes him, settles him. "No, no, he's fine. We'refine."

"That's reassuring." Bruce relaxes into his high-backed chair, which is also daunting.

Jesus, Wally can hardly believe he's going to do this. He's scared out of his mind for all the right reasons. He's talking to the goddamn Batman about his first real son and is terrified of just complete and utter rejection...

"I'm actually here," the speedster begins quietly, "to ask for your permission to propose to Dick."

For a long moment, Bruce is silent, musing over the subject. His eyes are fixated on Wally's desperate face, where he can see the redhead's clenched hands and the terror running rampant in those jade eyes.

Trying not to stutter over his words, Wally continues quickly, "We've been together for almost five years now and now that I'm out of college and Dick is finally eighteen, we can actually be together for the rest of our lives. And I swear to you that I love Dick with all my heart. He's my whole world. I can't imagine a day going by where I don't see him or think about him. I can promise you I'll take care of him and-"

"I'm not worried about you not taking care of him, Wally."

Bruce's interruption shakes Wally from his rambling and makes his innocent, concerned eyes flit up to find the billionaire's gaze. "What?" Now his question is choked.

"I've always trusted you to take care of him. You've been watching over him since the day you met and you've always been like a brother and then more. You make him smile more than anyone else in the world, and I know that you want to take good care of him." Bruce's smile is warm, almost welcoming. "And now, I'd be more than happy to give you permission to take care of him forever."

His heart slams to a stop in his chest. That's a yes? Oh, that's definitely a yes. Yes. Yes. The ring box in his pocket suddenly doesn't feel like such a horribly heavy burden but instead like the key to the infinite happiness. "Really?" asks Wally again, his eyes blinking with brilliant tears. He's thrilled now, eager to go home to their Blüdhaven hideaway and spill out a proposal to his boyfriend. "I... I can?"

"You make him happy, Wally." Bruce sounds borderline happy. For being Bruce. "I know I haven't exactly been a catalyst for you two, but you've got some nerve to come in here and be sincere about all of this." A light sigh passes Bruce's lips as he turns slightly to the right in his chair, his profile a silhouette against the giant window's brilliant light. "The hardest part for me will just be letting him go."

"He'll still be around, Bruce," Wally assures- no, promises. "He doesn't like to stray too far from family. And he sleeps here more than he does in my apartment."

"If he sleeps at all," adds Bruce mildly.

"But I won't keep him from you or take him too far from home. He's never been one to stay still for long. You'll see him plenty, I swear. I just want to marry him and give him something permanent between us." Wally knows Dick feels very strongly about permanence in relationships whether it be with friends or family; he hates seeing people go. "Only if you're alright with that, of course."

"Go make him the happiest man alive," encourages Bruce lightly, calmly; Wally can't decide if he's detached or just playing it cool. "That's all I want for him."

Wally's smile is bigger and a laugh spills from his lips. "That's all I want too." He rises out of the chair and stretches himself out a little bit. And just before he thinks to say his goodbye and depart, he asks, "Would you like to see the ring?"

Bruce holds up one hand in refusal. "I'll be surprised when Dick himself races home to show it to me," he vows with a halfhearted laugh. "Go to him now. And have a good night, Wally."

That comment. Damn. Bruce knows his son's getting laid tonight. That's hard for Wally to even comprehend. Still, he smiles and utters thank you a few ten or twelve times before actually leaving Bruce's office. He closes the door behind him as he leaves.

And suddenly, the weight is off his shoulders. He has DaddyBat's approval. He can go propose to Dick. And the world will keep spinning.

Unless Dick says no.

Wally's stomach sinks at the thought of rejection. This one's going to take some nerve too...

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review!

~Sky