Chapter 2
Notes: You can all thank Jazyrha for poking, prodding, pesturing, begging and flat out bribing me to continue this story. Love you girl :P Many thanks as always to my other half xRae Asakurax for the beta.
xxx
The fire was burning hotter than Bruce would have thought possible in a residential structure; someone had been storing illegal chemicals here, that was for certain, but he didn't have time to think about that now. There was still a person trapped in here and he, at the moment, was the closest to them. He held the cape closer to his face to protect it from the flames as he dodged to the next room to check it for people. His thermal scanner was useless in this inferno so he was having to manually search every room and it was taking too long. There were too many rooms, too many floors and Bruce didn't know where the missing person was.
His mind suddenly flashed back to Wally and the first time he had come across people, children, killed by a fire. He had been so shocked, so traumatised by something that he should have been able to take in his stride as a hero, but couldn't because he was that untainted by evil. How he had been a superhero for nigh on ten years before he had seen dead children, Bruce couldn't fathom. Luck was a fickle mistress for some people.
Bruce shook his head, casting the image away, but not before it reminded him he couldn't let anyone die, not on his watch, not in his city, not when he was this close. He sped his movements up, despite the inherent danger in such an act and kicked down the next door. This flat wasn't quite as full of thick acrid smoke as the corridor was and Bruce took the chance to take a deeper breath as he searched the apartment. It was strikingly similar to the one Wally owned back in Central City; layout, age, price of the build. Of course Bruce knew all this because every superhero's home had been investigated, bugged if he thought necessary, and every detail noted. He'd been about to give up on this one when he heard a cough and the next instant the door to the airing cupboard was flying back on its hinges to reveal a petite blonde haired woman curled into a small ball on the floor within.
Batman laid a pair of fingers on her neck to gauge her pulse and breathing for a moment and the touch of his glove startled the woman. Her head jerked up, making her cough again, but once she stopped a pair of startling green eyes stared up at him. Bruce instantly saw them, and matched them in colour to the Flash's, then dismissed the comparison. He held out his hand and she took it without hesitation, which didn't often happen to Batman. His persona meant that many ordinary citizens held a little bit of fear before them when they saw him. With her free hand she clutched a worn stuffed dog toy to her chest, a treasured memento of a childhood filled with love, something a grown woman should have let go of years ago.
The armour clad man tucked her close into his body, sheltering her with his cape as he guided her to a window, which he smashed out with a well aimed boot. Bruce ordered her to hold onto him as he fired his line at the building opposite. He made sure she was secured by tightening his free arm around her waist the moment before they were jumping out the window and sailing down to the street below. The landing was light, Bruce took all the shock of it through his own legs before setting her down, but she had inhaled enough smoke that she started coughing again and he let the paramedics running towards them take her. He automatically noted which hospital they belonged to, who the medics were, what they looked like; one even had red hair like Wally's, though perhaps not the same vibrancy.
That thought made Bruce narrow his eyes. Why was Wally West constantly invading his thoughts this evening? Everything he saw he was drawing comparisons to the Flash and his mind should not have been so distracted in the middle of a mission, even on one so ordinary and low-key. He had merely being filling his time patrolling Gotham before his shift on the WatchTower began. There were recalibrations to do to the orbit stabilising system and he'd been meaning to do them for some time now. In truth he could have easily past them to J'onn, but he felt safer doing them himself. Annoyed at the distractions he'd let himself be a subject to this evening, he decided he might as well skip the time waiting and clear the noise and thoughts of Flash from his mind. He brought his hand to his ear, activating the comm. link placed there.
"Batman to Watchtower, one to teleport."
Only moments later, Bruce felt the feeling of the teleportation taking place. He disliked the feeling, preferring to take the plane, even with the time that wasted. It seemed safer than having his molecules taken apart and reassembled like that. There was too much that could go wrong, too much out of his control. The tall man felt the familiar wave of nausea hit him as well, a feeling he didn't think he'd ever get over, but he swallowed it back, inspecting the Watchtower on reflex. Once reassured it was empty, without a sound he stalked off to his destination.
Bruce tried to control the troubled feeling, the pressure in his chest. It wasn't really something he would get troubled about, but he never truly liked change either, and for him to start thinking of Flash, and keep thinking of him, in the middle of a mission, it wasn't like him. Bruce scowled. Here he was, doing it again.
The Batman sat down on the chair, placed before the console he needed, shook his head lightly as if physically trying to get out the image, and concentrated on the numbers and maths. Gloved fingers danced over the buttons quickly and accurately, calling up the right calibrations and then another set of numbers on the Earth's rotation. Complex physics and mathematics scrolled down the screens.
"Hey Bats!"
Bruce concealed the flash of annoyance at the name. He would have thought after hearing it so much that he'd be immune to it by now, but perhaps it was merely Flash's talent to annoy him when no one else could, or perhaps it was because Wally had been on his mind all evening.
"What do you want?"
"Do you know what I just found out?" A red clad butt plonked itself down on the console right next to him and Batman wondered just how he was suppose to get on with his work now. He lifted his eyes up to glare at Wally, who was too busy munching on a doughnut to notice. "Someone organised the rota so a) you've got a night off and b) we've got a night off at the same time, so I know it wasn't you."
"What is your point?"
"It's been deader than a dead dodo. No bad guys trying to end the world and all that, so I'm going to be bored tonight." The last of the doughnut disappeared. "Wanna do something?"
"With you?" Bruce raised one eyebrow.
"Yeah," Wally shrugged. "You're always complaining how Gotham's so much work."
"I do not complain."
The younger man snorted. "Says you! C'mon I could help you out. Round up a few bad guys for you, let you scare the pants off them. It'll be better than watching TV."
"I'm sure the inhabitants of Gotham are quaking in their shoes at the mere thought," Bruce returned. "Go home Flash. Enjoy your time off."
The speedster pouted. "You're no fun."
Bruce didn't dignify that with a response.
"And anyway," Wally sat up straighter. "It's your night off too! Don't make me drag you out of here."
"My shift does not end for another hour, which gives me plenty of time to calibrate this system." The dark hero turned back to his station.
"I bet you do that in your Batcave, for fun." The Flash gave him an annoyed look.
"That is my choice," Batman responded, fingers carefully pressing buttons. "It is my cave."
"Man, do you ever get out?"
"When it is required."
"And is it tonight?" Wally leaned in closer.
"No," Bruce shook his head briefly.
"I bet you never go out for fun. You just sit in that dank, dark, smelly cave of yours and brood." The Flash folded his arms.
"Firstly the Batcave does not smell." Bruce gave him a level look. "And secondly that is none of your business."
The younger man's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I dare you to go out and do something fun this evening."
"Or what?" Bruce realised he shouldn't have uttered a word when he watched Wally's face light up with mischievous glee. He should have just ignored him.
"Or I am calling you Chickenman from now on!" A big grin split his face. "And that means you'll just have to change your costume."
Batman nearly opened his mouth to threaten Flash if he dared to touch his outfit, but he knew that would just mean a worse result. Once he would have turned straight back to his console and paid no heed to the younger hero, but for the sake of his sanity, and a little bit of his pride, he couldn't let Wally call him… that.
"Just how will you know I've been out?"
"I trust you. If you say you will, you will." Wally shrugged. He knew Batman kept his word if he gave it.
"I'll go out tonight," Bruce muttered darkly.
"See? Now that wasn't hard was it?" A red hand patted him on his shoulder for a split second before Flash sped off, calling, "See you later Bats!"
Bruce felt like beating his head against the console, but that wouldn't have been dignified nor would it be something Batman would ever do. Then again, when was it ever Batman's style to let the Flash manipulating him into agreeing to anything as trivial as going out, just for the sake of it. Bruce had to put it down to the amount of time he had spent in Wally's company recently. Alfred frequently called him when he was out to inform him his 'guest' was back again and would he mind terribly picking up some more groceries on the way home because he was eating everything in sight. He was glad none of Gotham's low life had seen Batman shopping, because that would ruin his image.
It didn't seem to matter what time of the day or night it was, if Wally was free, he seemed to around Wayne Manor and Bruce felt he should be annoyed at the red head for intruding so much and taking up so much of his free time, but he found himself enjoying the company too much. Wally was an honest guy, open and friendly and so very different to Bruce's usual social circle he was forced to keep as head of Wayne Enterprises and a millionaire bachelor. Alfred had once told him he might have fun as Bruce Wayne, rather than having a non-existent social life, but it had taken the appearance of Wally West into his life to turn it into something more than an acting front. He hadn't intruded into the 'Batman' time of his life either, because as soon as Bruce said he needed to work, Wally had amiably agreed to leave without fuss.
Bruce frowned at his console. Wally had said 'fun'. That would be pushing it and he had only agreed to go out, but that would be spoiling Wally's idea and he wouldn't out right lie to the younger man if he asked. Silence wasn't a lie. He also hadn't specified who's brand of fun, because Bruce had no doubt theirs were very different, but Bruce was also aware there was no way he could be as spontaneous as Wally would be in his search for fun. He would just have to play it the way he considered a good evening out.
xxx
The dark haired man gracefully slid from the low seat of his Lamborghini Murcielago LP640, before sliding the door down and stepping towards restaurant, looking back over his shoulder as he checked the car locked. Someone collided with shoulder as he did so, instantly apologising.
"'Scuse me…. Oh Bruce!"
The man in question actually looked at the person who had bumped into him on the pavement and was surprised to meet Wally's green eyes. He had to hold back the automatic reaction of stating he'd told Wally to go home earlier. The red head grinned.
"Fancy seeing you here."
"I do live in Gotham."
Wally snorted. "No you live in a giant ass castle so far on the outskirts it borders on another country."
"I do not…" Bruce stopped himself before it dissolved into a childish argument. "So what are you doing here?"
"Out for a walk."
"By yourself?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.
Wally shrugged. "So I don't have a date. How 'bout you?"
"I came here to eat." He nodded at the restaurant they stood outside.
"By yourself?" the other man shot the expensive place a look.
"I normally find myself with company before…"
"Bruce Wayne!"
"Mr Wayne!"
"Bruce!"
Wally turned and both of the men watched a horde of reporters descend towards them.
"…long. Why do they always roam in packs?" Bruce muttered before smiling for the cameras. He had an image to maintain.
"Mr Popular," Wally smirked and then the mob was on them, cameras flashing, recorders being shoved in their faces and every voice asking a multitude of questions.
"…comment on the stocks for…"
"…reports of internal problems…"
"…this a new friend or more…"
The last one caught Bruce's attention and he frowned at the small woman who had asked it, recognising her as a reporter from one of the more greasy tabloids that seemed obsessed with just who he spent his recreational time with. Wally was blinking at the mass of people pressing around him and Bruce acted before he could open his mouth and really drop them in it. He had seen enough of Flash's impromptu public interviews. With one hand he snagged Wally's wrist and dragged him out of the horde, towards the restaurant, where the reporters weren't allowed to pester the customers.
Wally stumbled along behind, too bemused to complain or argue and by the time he had sorted himself out, they were standing in the spacious lobby and a waiter was heading towards them. The red head tugged his hand free from Bruce's grip and attempted to smarten himself up, feeling somewhat conspicuous in his jeans and fleece. He tried to comb his hair through with his fingers but his abductor stopped him.
"Don't worry about it. They won't say anything, nor will they care." He nodded at a decorative fountain and pool. "Last time I was here the two women I was with ended up in there. You being underdressed is the least of my transgressions."
"Good evening sir." The immaculately dressed maître d'hotel bobbed his head. Wally didn't feel any better.
"Good evening Simon," Bruce returned. "Just the two of us tonight."
The head waiter glanced through the glass doors at the security personnel ushering the reporters away. "Of course sir. If you would follow me please."
Wally followed Bruce and the maître d', trying not to gape at the luxurious fittings and the sheer amount of money dripping from every surface. It wasn't like he expected Bruce Wayne to eat out anywhere less posh, but this was so far out of Wally's comfort, and price, range that it was hard not stare. Wally actually stopped to stare at the lobsters idling in the bottom of their huge glass tank before he remembered he was supposed to be following Bruce and Simon. He slid into silk covered seat, eyes taking in the linen napkins, leather bound wine list, actual candle and promptly sat on his hands.
Bruce took his menu from Simon and hid a smile with it when Wally fidgeted with his own. Simon bowed slightly as he left them, another waiter already appearing to serve them ice water. The red head waited until they were alone before hissing, "What the hell are you thinking, bringing me in here?"
Bruce leant back in his chair, placing the menu down. He already knew its contents. "What's wrong with you being here?"
"This is so not my scene." Wally's green eyes darted around the room. "And you know what I do, this is one place I got warned away from!"
Bruce tilted his head slightly. "You've not been here long enough for people to know who you are."
Wally flipped through the pages in the menu, annoyed and trying not to drool at the list of food. "I eat like a horse… ten horses."
"And you know I can afford it," the dark haired man chuckled. "Relax, enjoy yourself."
"Why am I here?" Wally muttered into his menu, trying to pick between the steaks.
"You'll keep some of the more unsavoury characters away."
"Oh, gee, thanks," came the reply from behind the carte du jour. "What, do I smell or something?"
"I said they were unsavoury, not you."
Wally looked over the top of his menu at that. "Er, thanks."
The guys at work, rough as they were, had told him a few little things about the city's millionaire: Playboy, partier, absolutely no respect for the rules, somewhat of a snob, threw his money at everything. Why was he telling Wally, a police forensics officer, that he wasn't bad company, unless he wanted something from him? Wally's mind played back what Batman had told him; a business deal. Maybe Batman had warned Bruce about being caught stealing his DNA sample.
Wally ran that through his head again. Batman admit something went wrong? He swallowed a snort. So unlikely! Before Bruce could see him grinning Wally ducked back down behind his menu again and decided one thing: There was no way in hell he was going to be able to pick what he wanted to eat. He fancied everything on the menu, except maybe that vegetarian thing with aubergines. Eggplants reminded him of aliens now, he'd seen too many. Aliens, that was.
"So what are you having?" Bruce asked.
Wally frowned, downing his menu. "You pick. I can't decide."
Bruce didn't let the shock show, covering it with amusement. He knew Wally wasn't fussed what he had to eat, as long as it was fast and there was sugar at the end of it, but he had often filled his plate and eaten most of it before anyone else could read half of what was available. The Flash stuck on what to eat. That was a new one.
The millionaire looked across the restaurant, catching Simon's eye. The maître d' glided to their table, and waited patiently. Bruce couldn't help be tease Wally by ordering in French, leaving the young man staring at him widely, whilst their waiter simply nodded. As soon as Simon was gone Wally hissed, "If you've just ordered me snails I'm going to stick them down your shirt!"
"Did you see snails on the menu?"
"No, but it also wasn't written in French!" Wally pointed out.
Bruce shrugged, smiling. "So far I haven't known you to turn any food down, regardless of what it is."
"Well no but I can't eat snails on principle," the red hair bounced as he shook his head. "They're too slow to run away from being eaten."
Bruce couldn't help the snort of laughter at that one. Wally grinned at him, always seeming pleased when he could get the other man to smile or laugh, but Bruce just knew that was part of Wally's nature to please. He wouldn't have understood that Bruce read the real meaning behind that comment. Everything was too slow to run away from the Flash and Bruce suspected that a lot of animals would willing go to Wally, with his bright, open personality and aura of warmth and friendliness.
The wait for the meal to arrive past in no time at all and Wally, at first, was embarrassed Bruce had ordered him double his own meal, but was soon tucking in with clear enjoyment. Occasionally Bruce reprimanded Wally gently, telling him to enjoy it more rather than just clear his plate without breathing. The red head would give him a guilty smile, stop eating and ask a friendly question, almost like he was waiting for the opportunity to do so. One of them was, "What you got?"
Bruce paused, the fork half way to his mouth, and couldn't resist the urge to tease with something he knew would go way over Wally's head.
"Escargots Bourguignonne."
Wally stared at him. "Say what?"
"Basically, fancy Italian ham." Then he held out his hand, fork and food still there and offered it to Wally. "Here, try some."
Wally downed his own cutlery to lean across the table and accept the mouthful. Bruce abruptly was fixated on the way his full lips closed over the fork and then slid away from him down the metal. The younger man licked his lips, catching a stray morsel and Bruce abruptly felt hot, making him want to jerk his gaze away but it was too late when his eyes met Wally's. A smile, perhaps a little too slow and deliberate, curved those suddenly fascinating lips upwards as Wally swallowed.
"That was delicious."
Bruce nodded, directing his gaze back down to his plate, covering his change in mood with easy conversation. "The head chef here is one of the best in the country."
Wally answered and Bruce let him take control of the conversation, leaving him to ramble happily. Bruce couldn't explain why he'd offered Wally his food, or rather why he had done it in such a romantic manner. Wally had clearly caught onto that fact and thought he was deliberately flirting with him because of the way he had responded, which had to mean that the red head found him attractive. It wasn't like that bothered Bruce, who was used to people flirting with him, mostly to get at his money, but more his own reaction. He had learnt to keep work and pleasure separate. Why he had suddenly crossed that line was unfathomable and worrying. It also came as a surprise that Wally would flirt with Bruce because he knew he wouldn't be interested in his money, so it was the man he was actually interested in.
Bruce also knew that he couldn't dwell on it. Wally would eventually pick up on his self reflection and ask him what was troubling him, which Bruce didn't want to get drawn into, so he pushed his feelings to one side and let Wally's happiness draw him back. A pleasant meal out in company he didn't have to watch every word around was a rare occurrence and the last thing the older man wanted to do was spoil it with an emotional reaction he shouldn't feel.
The Speedster demolished his meal, and then several puddings, whilst still talking, leaving Bruce to savour the single glass of wine he was indulging in. One glass drunk over the course of a meal for someone of his body mass and with his training, didn't affect him enough to dull or slow his senses.
Wally finished his story, which had, somehow, drifted to be about an old woman on the first floor of his flat who baked the most delicious chocolate cakes, according to him. He ended the story with a joke, Bruce smiling slightly, Wally chuckling but when his laughter faded his eyes awkwardly went to his now empty plate and then danced across the room. Now that he'd finished eating, Bruce could see how a slight discomfort at being 'out of place' had started taking hold of Wally again. The redhead was fidgeting slightly. The plate was completely clean and Bruce idly wondered if it'd be the only thing Wally didn't leave in a complete mess.
"Would you like to go?" Bruce inquired politely. Wally smiled at him over the table, brightly, nodding all at the same time. Bruce signed for Simon, telling him to put the dinner on his tab as usual; it wouldn't be long before he was back here anyway and it wasn't like they didn't know he could cover everyone's meals for years.
Wally followed Bruce outside, feeling the pressure of blending in fall from his shoulders. He had loved every minute he'd spend with Bruce, but the place still gave him the creeps. The speedster felt like he could damage something to the point of no return by simply breathing too hard.
The cold air hit him like a wake up call, and he automatically looked around for lurking reporters like before. Luckily it seemed that they had dispersed by the restaurant's security and he relaxed.
"Well thanks for that." Wally shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "I haven't eaten that well in ages." Bruce waited, sensing there was more. "You wanna come for a walk with me or something? I mean exercise is supposed to be good for after you've eaten right?" Wally didn't get why he suddenly felt nervous asking. It's not like he would have been asking any other friend he had.
"Alright," Bruce nodded.
Wally smiled brightly at him before glancing up and down the street. His innate good sense of direction kicked in and the red head turned towards Gotham's largest park. Bruce fell into step beside him, content enough to walk in silence, though a glance to his right showed Wally was fidgeting. He probably thought he talked too much and didn't want to annoy Bruce more. One thing he hadn't learnt about the younger man was he may talk openly, candidly, about many things, but he often kept his personal feelings hidden. Wally could lose you in what he said, saying so much, that you'd miss that little fact. Apparently the red head didn't want to irritate Bruce but he had actually, in all the time he'd spent trespassing on Bruce's time and home, not once been annoying enough to get himself cast aside.
"How is your work going?" Bruce asked, trying to reassure Wally that he could talk, though picking a subject was trickier than he thought.
Wally glanced across at him. "Good, I guess. Working in Gotham isn't anything like working in Central City. I mean, like the case load is massive."
"There are more crimes here," Bruce acknowledged. "The city needs help."
"Some people are helping," Wally replied. "Or they are supposed to be. Still don't get how stealing police evidence is helping, but you'd know more about that than I do."
One black eyebrow shot up Bruce's face. "Are you implying I steal?"
The younger man made a face. "No, but I will get to the bottom of why Batman was nabbing your DNA out of my lab." He grinned suddenly. "You know, I think I've been hanging around long enough not qualify as a stranger any more."
"Do you?" Bruce tried not to smile back. "I certainly know a lot about you, that is true."
Wally scowled, though Bruce could see there was no real feeling behind it, before it slowly changed back into a smile, one that said he'd thought of something Bruce hadn't. "Even if I don't know you as well as you think you know me, that still takes me out of the stranger category, so give it up Mr Billionaire." The red head nudged Bruce with his elbow, hands still buried in his pockets. The taller man hadn't realised Wally was walking so close at his side, yet didn't feel bothered by it even as the fact sank in. Wally's presence, even so close to him, was almost natural: the speedster was a tactile person anyway, and he didn't consider it invasive, despite that.
"Give what up?" Bruce did smile that time.
"You know what. Why Batman is stealing your DNA out of police labs." The speedster shot him a dirty look.
"He is?"
"Stop answering every question with a question!" Wally exclaimed, one hand coming out of his pocket to wave a finger at Bruce's face in warning.
"Am I?" Bruce gave Wally an innocent look, marred by the way the corner of his mouth twitched when Wally threw both hands in the air and looked skywards, crying, "Gah, so infuriating. Did you take lessons or something?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Oh my god, you're worse than I am!" Wally stared at him before turning around so he was walking backwards, eyes locked on Bruce's face, heedless of the other people on the pavement as he jabbered away at the taller man, hands gesturing widely. Bruce was sure he was labelling him with all sorts of mildly derogatory terms as he vented his 'frustration', but the billionaire was more concerned about steering him through the crowd.
When he placed a hand on Wally's shoulder, the man barely paused, clearly accepting it in a blink of an eye. Bruce used subtle pressure to direct the red head around other people and Wally responded instantly. It was a display of trust that the dark haired man didn't think he'd earned. He'd been speaking the truth when he'd mentioned he knew more about Wally than the young man did about him. Almost every personal question had been answered with vague, non statements, though Wally had never really pegged him on it. As he guided Wally, he found himself hating that. There were things he could say, truthful things, without ever compromising his identity. There were things that belonged to Bruce, things that weren't connected to caves and bats and darkness. There were memories, happy ones that weren't stained with the blood spilled in dark allies. There were stories, experiences. There were things that weren't completely fake.
Bruce shook his head lightly and there was also the right time and place to think about them. They were clear of the crowds now, stepping into the darker park. The paths were lit with low level lights and the skyline was highlighted by the city lights beyond the trees. Once Bruce dropped his hand from Wally's shoulder the red head fell back into line with him for a moment, facing the right way and talking about something so completely different that it took even the fabled legendary lightning quick mind of Batman a moment to keep up.
Wally bounced around Bruce, circling him as he talked. Bruce watched him, wondering when the sugar would wear off or whether this was just normal behaviour when the red head wasn't racing around saving the world. As they crossed by a children's park both of them heard the quiet sniffles and turned to see a small girl sitting on one of the swings, face red from crying.
"One sec," Wally said just before he vaulted the railing into the park and went to sit on the swing next to the girl. "Hey there, what are you doing out so late?"
The blonde pigtails bounced as the girl looked up at him, scrubbing at her face to hide her tears. "Mom and Dad were fighting again." She pointed across the park. "I live over there. I'll go back when they've stopped."
Wally patted his pockets, frowning. He startled when a handkerchief appeared in his vision and he looked up to see Bruce holding it out, smiling gently. The younger man took it with a grin before passing it to the girl, who took it and snorted loudly into it.
"Is that why you were crying?"
She shook her head. "No. It's silly."
"I won't tell," Wally looked up at Bruce, a cheeky smile on his face. "You won't, will you Bruce?"
"Not a soul," Bruce swore solemnly, straight faced.
The girl nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment. "I can't swing by myself."
Bruce waited for more of an explanation, but that seemed to be it. Wally, on the other hand, understood straight away and nodded sagely.
"I remember when I couldn't either. What'd you say to my friend giving you a push and we'll see who can swing higher, you or me?"
The girl's face broke into a huge grin and she nodded rapidly, hands already wrapping around the chains with Bruce's handkerchief dangling from one fist. The red head jerked his head over at the girl. "C'mon Bruce. We're waiting."
Bruce stepped around behind them, whacking Wally on the head as he passed, before taking up his appointed position behind the girl, pulling back the swing ready. Wally was rubbing his skull, glaring at Bruce when the dark haired man said, "Ready, set, go!"
The little girl squealed as she went sailing out forwards, kicking her feet forward as she did so.
"Hey!" Wally exclaimed. "That's cheating!"
"Bet you can't catch up now," Bruce returned, straight face still in place as he pushed the girl again.
"You watch!"
As it was Wally let the little girl win and she left afterwards, a big smile in place, after presenting Bruce his now snotty handkerchief back. The younger man spun himself around in a circle on his swing, letting his feet drag through the bark so it revealed the dusty soil beneath.
"That was good of you, to let her win," Bruce commented as he pocketed the handkerchief.
Wally shot him a grin. "Nah, I let you win." The standing man reached out to snag one of the swing chains, jerking the red head to a stop, before pulling it towards him. Wally waggled his feet, now clear of the floor. "You gonna push me now?" Bruce nodded before grabbing the bottom of the seat and upending it, dumping the younger man on floor and Wally let out a cry of indignation. "Hey! What was that for?"
Bruce raised one eyebrow at him. "Because."
"Oh right, now who's being childish?" Wally flicked a piece of bark at him, which missed and then climbed to his feet. Bruce felt a flicker of shock, followed by pain. He was never childish, he hadn't been childish since he was eight years old, when his childhood had died abruptly in an alleyway. Wally must have seen something on his face or in his body language, because the smile disappeared and he laid a concerned hand on Bruce's shoulder. "You ok?"
"Fine."
Wally blinked at the short tone, dropping his hand. "I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you."
"You didn't," Bruce said abruptly, walking away from the park and the image of a happy childhood. The younger man scurried after him until he was trotting sideways alongside him, watching him with wide, hurt green eyes. That tore at something in Bruce, even amidst his own pain. He was aware Wally didn't know about what exactly had happened to his parents, though how he'd managed not to stumble over it, he didn't understand. All Wally knew was that they were dead; he hadn't pushed for further information than that, so he wouldn't understand Bruce's abrupt silence. They had grown close enough; Bruce valued Wally's good opinion enough that the dark haired man felt he shouldn't leave Wally in the dark.
"Bruce?" his voice showed his confusion.
"I haven't been in a playground since I was nine, when my parents died." Blue eyes met green momentarily. "It brought back memories."
"Bad ones?" Wally stopped trying to skip sideways now Bruce was talking to him.
"No."
"Then why this? I mean, good memories make me smile, not run away."
"I'm not running away," Bruce snapped shortly.
The red head let out a snort, not perturbed by his friend's tone. "'Course not."
Bruce's mouth tightened into a thin line for a moment before he used his training to push away that hot anger, but his voice came out flat, dead, giving far more away than he'd meant. "My parents were killed by a robber for nothing more than the money in their pockets. I watched them die. That man was never brought to justice."
Wally stopped dead in his tracks, frozen, eyes comically wide, as Bruce carried on without him. "Oh god…"
Bruce could feel the horror in the younger man's voice, feel it reaching down past those barriers inside him and suddenly he could smell the acrid burning of cheap gunpowder. One hand clenched into a fist as he fought to push back the memories and he was so caught up with fighting himself that he completely blanked out the world around him. When Wally's warm body suddenly collided with his back Bruce flinched and very nearly flipped the slighter man right over his head in a instinctual reaction, but Wally's arms were already wrapped tightly around his waist, trapping his arms at his sides. Bruce simultaneously hated the feeling of being confined and, yet, found himself intensely touched by the gesture. The red head was holding onto him quite tightly, face buried between his shoulder blades and Bruce could feel his jaw move as he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry Bruce. I know what it's like to lose family. When my uncle and aunt died, I was closer to them than my parents, I was lost. Everything stopped and you know I don't stop."
Bruce couldn't answer but his hands rose without his permission and wound themselves around Wally's wrists, hanging on like his life depended on it. Wally squeezed him tighter for a moment before relaxing his grip, and Bruce let go so abruptly Wally stepped around him to peer into his face with a sad smile.
"We're ok right?"
Bruce nodded before licking his dry lips.
"Thank you." He didn't say that no one ever offered him physical comfort, no one ever saw him like this. How did Wally, in all the short time he had really known the man under the mask, manage to get so close to him?
xxx
Bruce realised, once his station relayed the information that the Flash had just beamed aboard the WatchTower, that the empty seat next to him wouldn't remain that way for long. He counted to three point zero seven seconds…
"So did you have fun then?" The Flash grinned at Batman over the top of his oversized iced mocha.
"Unexpectedly."
"Best kind." Wally made a 'mmm' noise of enjoyment into his drink. "I had a night like that too, just…"
"Just what?" Bruce found himself asking, curiosity over Wally's feelings about last night catching him out.
"Well I had dinner out with a friend and he told me something I didn't know and I guess it answers a lot, but I still get the feeling he's hiding something." The younger man let out a shrug before draining his cup.
Bruce carefully didn't react, but answered, "Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky he told you at all."
"Yeah I know." Wally tossed his cup over his shoulder into the bin. "I also know you're gonna tell me given time he might open up more."
The dark haired man hadn't been about to say that, but the words sent shivers up his spine as he realised they could well come true if he continued seeing Wally in a social capacity. The redhead smiled at him, the way he had smiled at him last night; open, trusting, and Bruce averted his eyes, looking at the calculations on the screen, concentrating on nothing but the cold binary codes. He shouldn't let Wally in, he should push him away. Everyone he let in died. He wouldn't let this man die. He had to shut him out again.