D: This is what happens when I write for several hours straight while listening to soft music and have all my lanterns going. Romanic mush! I'm sorry in advance for the sap-factor of this part. Please forgive me!

Warnings: Love scene. And I stress the LOVE part. Bring the sexy toothpaste, you'll need it afterward.

~Tally.

Part two.

"Crap."

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Well, and truly, he'd meant to talk to Bruce. But exhaustion had gotten the better of him, and he'd fallen asleep. Which brought up the question- why was he on the other side of the bed? Wally pursed his lips, frowning, then waved the thought off, sitting up slowly. Paper crinkled under his palm, and he looked down in surprise. Picking up the note, Wally read it carefully before grinning at the door. In neat, precise writing, it read:

You came here to heal, not catch your death from cold. Get under the blankets next time.

Breakfast is in the kitchen.

-B

Wally grinned at the note, rushing from bed in a flash of happy, excited movements. He slowed before he reached the kitchen, padding in at a lazy pace. Breakfast was, indeed, waiting, by way of Alfred- who smiled over his shoulder at him, offering a polite, "Master Wallace," in greeting, before turning back to his eggs. Wally dropped into one of the two remaining chairs at the small kitchen table, grinning at Bruce when he arched a brow at him over his paper. The Dark Knight didn't say anything, but Wally caught the slight quirk of his lips that he tried to hide. His grin widened.

Breakfast past in a haze of happy belonging, and gentle teasing between the heroes. If either man noticed Alfred's pleased, knowing look, neither mentioned it.

***

The warm feelings that little smile caused stayed with him for the rest of the day, a small, happy feeling centered in his chest. But as the day slowly drew to a close, an old restlessness set in. He tried to hide it, flashing overly bright smiles whenever Alfred or Bruce addressed him, but he could sense they weren't fooled. Despite that, no one called him on the act. As the sun set, Bruce was called away- to a party, it turned out. Belatedly, Wally realised it was New Years Eve. Oh. That would explain it. In order to keep the playboy persona alive, Bruce Wayne would have to been seen somewhere tonight. The feelings that thought brought with them were more disturbing to him then the fact he'd lost track of time. Again. Depression welled up, weighing him down until he had to excuse himself, seeking out someplace quiet, to be alone with his thoughts.

***

Wally curled up just inside Bruce's door, pulling his knees up as he wrapped his arms around them, chin nestled against his flesh. Green eyes stared out, overly bright, as the stars slowly came out. The tears he'd fought off for so long trickled down his face in hot, thick streams, soaking into the knees of his jeans. Despite the tears, he made no noise, just hugged himself and shivered, letting all the pent up pain, all the grief, out in a torrent of tears. His lashes clumped together, and the dried salt made his cheeks itch, his eyes feel overly tight, but Wally didn't move. If he were to move even a muscle, he feared he'd just... stop. Stop, and never start again.

I love him.

The thought rang true.

Why does it hurt so much?

Wally knew Bruce hated those parties. That he didn't like the people much either. He knew it was necessary, to keep the mask hiding Batman safe, (because anyone with half a brain knew that it was really the playboy that was the mask, and Batman was Bruce's true face. Well, anyone who knew who he really was, anyway.)

But it still hurt to think he was out there, with them, instead of in here with him. It was a petty thought, and he could admit that- but still-! Why couldn't he see it? See what had been in front of him for the last two months? His hands curled into loose fists, picking at the inseam with shaking fingers. He'd never felt like this Ryan. But that hadn't really been love, had it? He'd trapped him the moment Wally had truly given him his trust. He'd trapped him, and beaten him like a dog, he'd abused every little bit of Wally. And the moment he'd gathered the courage to try and get out, Ryan had tried to kill him. Anger threaded through his veins, his face scrunching into a look of defiance as he glared at the wall. So caught up in his anger, he failed to notice as the door opened quietly, admitting one silent figure before it closed.

Bruce paused. He'd know Wally was hiding somewhere in the mansion, but he hadn't expected to find him curled in the corner of his room. What was with him lately, and his attraction to Bruce's rooms?

Stepping carefully, he timed his footfalls with the speedster's fast, distressed breathing. Alfred had warned him Wally had been upset, of course, but this looked more than upset. To Bruce's eyes, it looked like someone had torn the speedster apart, leaving the ragged, hurt little bits to crawl off and die. Yet Wally never made a sound. Sobs wracked his slender frame, but never once did anything other than deep, ragged breaths leave his lips.

After several minutes of watching in silence, he picked his way across the room, stopping just behind Wally. Only then did the man even notice he was there.

With a startled jump, Wally spun awkwardly around, muscles protesting loudly at the treatment after so long in one position.

"Bruce-" he started, cutting himself off quickly, surprise and guilt flashing through his eyes. What was he doing here? Wally hadn't thought he'd be home until after the ball dropped, at least. But a quick glance at the clock showed there was still an hour till midnight. He felt his face flush under the scrutiny of those blue eyes, locking his eyes on the floor to avoid the intensity of them. What was Bruce thinking? He had his Batman face on- completely unreadable. Standing over him like that, it was a long way up to that stoic face. Just as his embarrassment was about to give way to true discomfort, that unreadable face softened, emotion flowing back into Bruce's blue eyes.

"Wally," he greeted softly. His eyes flickered down the speedster's crouched form, flashing back to his face. "Why were you crying?"

Wally flinched back at the question. Go figure, Batman heading straight in for the throat right off the bat. Bat. He'd made a funny. He ducked his head, turning his face away as a flush crept up his neck, painting his cheeks a dark red.

"That's not a question you're 'suppose to ask a guy, ya know?" he joked lightly, voice cracking slightly to the end. He swallowed, fighting back a wave of embarrassment. Of all the things he didn't want to talk about, this topped the list. But Bruce apparently didn't want to let it go.

He kneeled slowly, dropping onto one knee in front of the redhead. Wally stubbornly didn't look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor by his foot as if it were the most fascinating piece of wood he'd ever seen.

"Wally."

If anything, he managed to shrink more into himself, tensing up in that stubborn, impossibly way of his. Bruce's eyes narrowed.

"Wally."

Strong fingers caught the redhead's jaw, turning it gently, but insistently up. It was obvious the young hero didn't appreciate the action as his green eyes all but threw sparks, glaring up at Bruce as if daring him to say something about the tear tracks on his face. Which was somewhat redundant, considering he already had. Bruce ignored the look, frowning slightly down at him.

"Wally, why were you crying?"

Wally bared his teeth in angry frustration, tugging his jaw free from Bruce's hand as he scrubbed at one cheek with a hand.

"You sound like a broken record, you know that, right?" when Bruce refused to rise to the bait, he sighed, turning his face away, trying to shut the man out.

"I don't want to talk about it, Bats."

He felt, rather than saw, Bruce move closer, until he could feel the heat coming off the man's body as he sat beside him. Surprised, Wally glanced over, proving to be the wrong move. Bruce met his eyes,

"He hurt you."

Flash froze, staring at him in wide eyed surprise,

"How did you-?"

"Two months of research. I was worried." The short, clipped sentence surprised him more than his knowledge had. Turning sharply, Wally put his back to the Batman, closing up on himself as he ground out and angry, "I can take care of myself!"

"I know."

Silence.

Green eyes stared down at the floor, shock written across their expressive depths. What-?

Before he could speak, Bruce continued, "You're just as capable as any of us. I know that we treat you like a child at times, but I know you can take care of yourself. We all do. It doesn't stop us from worrying." A speech, by his standards. Slowly, the speedster loosened up, turning back to him, now confused,

"Then why did you-?"

"You didn't show up for shift. You always come."

He blinked. Batman had just complimented him- indirectly of course. But in bat-speech, those three simple words meant 'You are reliable.' Which was really the highest compliment anyone could give him.

He shook himself from his thoughts; Bruce was still speaking.

"When I found you, you were almost dead. Not The Flash, but Wallace West. I had a right to be concerned. He'd nearly killed you."

~*~

He almost took you away. From us. From me.

Bruce suppressed the thought, and the echo of panic the memory brought. Wally, bleeding out in his arms, weak and limp; Wally hooked up to multiple machines, barely hanging on. To think that smile, that bright personality might not survive... it had almost been too much for him. Grief and anger warred inside the Dark Knight, with nowhere to go. It had been a savage, merciless two nights for the villains of Gotham.

Then Wally had woken up, and it had felt like the sun had finally returned. The strength of the emotions the young hero brought out in him had stunned him into silence.

To keep from frightening him off, from scaring him from the sanctuary he knew the speedster needed, he'd suppressed his feelings, hidden them away.

Wally was looking at him, face so incredibly open. Did he realise that his every thought, his every emotion, showed on that face? It was what made him such a terrible liar. What always gave him away whenever he rigged one prank or another.

Right then, it displayed all the shock, all the surprise and all the dawning hope that was going through the man's mind. Wally was as easy to read as a book with extra large font. Distantly, Bruce realised he'd been moving closer as he'd been speaking. But for once, the unconscious choices his mind made followed the ones his conscious one had made.

One hand caught the side of Wally's face, cradling it carefully as Bruce tipped it up. Wally's eyes widened a fraction as he realised what was happening, warm breath washing over his face before warm lips were pressed softly against his own.

~*~

He didn't know where it had come from, or what had prompted it; Bruce had never showed any indication that he was aware of Wally's feelings, but no matter why, he knew one thing for certain.

Bruce was kissing him.

It was chaste, and light, lingering for a handful of heartbeats, before he moved away. No!

He'd waited this too long, dammit! Patience was not an option!

Wally reached out, fisting his hands in the crisp fabric of Bruce's shirt, and surged upward, meeting his lips in a second, less-than-chaste kiss. He felt Bruce's surprise as if it where his own, felt him freeze up for a brief second before returning Wally's heated passion tenfold. Strong arms captured his smaller form, slipping around his back to bring him closer, cradling the back of his skull as fingers twined through silky red hair. Whatever chaste intentions Bruce might have had didn't last past Wally's response.

The redhead crawled into his lap, fitting himself up against Bruce's greater bulk with a fluid grace, movements precise and controlled, leaking contained power with every motion. Had his attention not been fully occupied by the skilful mouth currently pressed against his own, Bruce would have been left in awe at the strength in the younger hero's lean body. How easy it was to forget his strength, seeing him as he had. Wally responded to every touch with fire he'd never known, giving as much as Bruce did, and demanding as much in return.

Kneeling in the middle of his bedroom, the red head's legs slug around his hips, they kissed, hands roaming, tracing, finding every nook and cranny of each other's bodies, investigating as much as clothing would allow. He shivered as Wally's fingers traced the curve of his spine, ghosting over old scars as he pressed the stiff fabric of Bruce's dress shirt to his back, boldly moving his hands over the Detective's body like he'd been born to do it; as if it were his own. There was no hesitation in his touch, no forced passion, faked curiosity. For the first time in a very long time, someone wanted the man behind the mask, not the billionaire playboy. The passionate, honest armful of redhead wanted Bruce Wayne, and Batman, desired him for neither his fame, nor his fortune. Wallace West wanted his heart, and for once in his long, bitter life, Bruce was inclined towards giving it away.

He paused, lifting his mouth from the speedster's skin, and rested his forehead against the man's neck, breathing in his scent as he held him close. Wally's hands continued their slow exploration, content to leave Bruce to his thoughts as the passion simmered, the fierce intensity dimming into something much more valuable, far more tender; green eyes slid closed as warm, chapped lips pressed against the side of his throat, a firm, lingering kiss to his pulse point. Warm arms cradled him with all the consideration Bruce had shown him these past months, holding him firm like living steel. Wally smiled; this, this was what had been missing. The warmth in his heart; the joy each touch brought him. If they never moved again, he would be happy, just to stay right there in Bruce's arms.

Those feelings, the strength of them, the sheer power, were what he'd been missing. The last little bit; the part that made life perfect. His arms tightened around him, holding the cause of the knew-found perfect world close as he rested his chin on Bruce's shoulder, pressing his face into the side of his jaw. He loved him so much; the world could quite literally end if he lost him. It should have frightened him; it really should have. But it didn't. He couldn't imagine actually surviving such a loss anyway.

The atmosphere in the dark room changed as he was lost in his thoughts: the loose, warm feeling of contentment sharpened; focusing more towards the intensity they'd started with. A quieter one, for sure, but most definitely there as calloused hands smoothed down his sides, slid down his sides, spanning his rib cage before Bruce slowly lumbered to his feet. Wally clamped his legs tight around the vigilantes' waist, arms wrapping around his neck as Bruce folded one arm around the speedster's back, the other holding him firm under one thigh, keeping the redhead steady as he moved towards the bed, Wally's clinging form swaying with every step.

They kept their silence, neither willing to break the peace, or soil the moment with needless words. Wally released his grip on Bruce as the older man leaned over the bed, setting the redhead down as gently as if he were made of spun sugar; he hovered for a moment, eyes flickering rapidly as he took Wally in. The younger hero lay in the blankets, watching him in turn, letting the long, meaning-filled moments pass in silence; with one finger Bruce brushed a lock from his face, before leaning down to brush a soft kiss to his willing lips. It was a pale cousin to the first they shared, but the emotions that bubbled up in the speedster's chest as a result made him smile, lips parting in silent, joyful laughter.

It should have been out of place, such innocence amidst the sensual atmosphere, but it brought an answering smile to his lover's stoic face, lighting his blue eyes from within. Wally liked that he could do that; that he could make Bruce smile. Laughter on his still-smiling lips, he leaned up, pulling his dark companion down into a lingering, heated kiss. As his lean form was straddled, he broke the kiss, to lap and suckle his way across the side of his throat, nibble fingers tugging buttons free of their holes as Bruce returned the favour, pushing buttons through button holes one-handed, as he braced himself above the redhead with the other. The air around them was charging again, heat gathering between them; Wally's breath quickened, matching the slightly ragged pace of the Batman's, as excitement sparked in his veins. Arousal quickly followed as Bruce smoothed a hand over his now-bare chest, smirking at the stuttering in the Flash's breath as one work-roughened finger brushed over his nipple.

Flash's eyes widened fractionally, a moan caught in his throat, curling back on its self as he sucked in a harsh breath, moving up against the man, into the contact. Bruce evaded his attempts at continued contact, a thoughtful look of smug delight at Wally's soft whine of disappointment. Miffed at the denial, he retaliated by tugging Bruce's shirt down off his shoulders, pulling it along his arms until the man had no choice but to discard the garment. At the redhead's smug look of victory, a silent gloat of you're more naked then me! Bruce arched one brow, then with one hand against the bare skin of his shoulder blades, levered the redhead up, stripping away the offending shirt, and set him down again, only to have his hands drop to the waist of Wally's pants.

The speedster mad a soft keening noise in the back of his throat, eyes bright in the darkness, focused on those hands, vividly pale against the dark denim of his jeans. Bruce didn't tease further; tugging the top two buttons free, leaning down to kiss one sharp hipbone as he pulled the tight fabric down until he slid it free, tossing the pants carelessly to the floor. Wally reached for him, Bruce meeting the younger man half way, their teeth clicking as their lips crushed together. Desperate fingers fought with his belt until he brushed them aside, unfastening both belt and pants in quick, familiar movements. He stood briefly, letting the clothing drop down his body to pool at his feet, then stepped free of it, ignoring Wally's lips in favour of mapping out the contours of the Flash's body with his tongue.

Wally gasped, writhing in the blankets as Bruce nibbled at the skin at the highest point of his ribcage, hot breath stirring goose bumps his even hotter tongue smoothed away. To keep from grabbing the man, he fisted the blankets, eyes shut as his face flushed, heat rising from his bones all at once.

"A-Ahh!"

A hot, wet tongue swirled around his nipple, before taking it into an equally hot, wet mouth. Wally arched against the sheets, eyes snapping open in surprise as pleasure shot straight to his groin, his already hard member nodding sadly to its self in neglect.

He was lost, drowning in sensation. Rough, calloused hands roamed his body, raising goose bumps and shivers from his damp skin as careful fingers traced ribs, abdomen, thighs, hips, wandering freely over him, returning frequently to the spots that he reacted to the most. He was aroused to nearly the point of pain, but nothing in the world would make him tell Bruce to stop. Nothing. The sensation of his hard body pressed against him, caging him so carefully, never putting more weight on him then was comfortable was nothing short of heaven. There was no pain, no force. Bruce took his time, exploring every inch of the redhead with hands, lips, and tongue, learning every curve in his body, every response; the way his abdomen clenched when he nuzzled his abs, or the way his breath would catch, when he kissed his throat. Small things that made his smaller lover loose his head. The things that caused the most pleasure; the motions that made him moan, thrusting helplessly against Bruce's thigh. Every detail, committed to memory, caught in that diamond-sharp mind. Held, forever.

Bruce pressed a lingering kiss to the side of Wally's throat, propping himself up on his elbows as he reached for the bedside table, pulling a small jar from the drawer. Wally shivered underneath him damp hair curling slightly, his face flushed a rather becoming shade of pink, as his green eyes tracked his every movement in a distracted, glazed manner. He scooped out a generous portion of ointment; old memories of those few occasions in private school all the boys pretended hadn't happened floating back up to the surface. Wally shifted to accommodate him, breath catching at the first touch of a cool, slick fingertip against his entrance. He closed his eyes, groaning softly, before turning to muffle the noise into Bruce's shoulder as one finger pressed slowly into him. He'd almost forgotten what preparation was, it had been so long.

Three fingers, and three long minutes, before the redhead snapped.

"Bruce," He hissed through clenched teeth. The one word was all that was needed to convey his frustration, and dawning exasperation. The man looked down at him for a moment, before leaning down, and kissing the tip of his nose,

"Fine, but you'll be sore," he warned, slowly withdrawing his fingers from inside the smaller man's body. Wally bit back a hiss, gritting his teeth against the sense of loss- wait it out, wait it out- and glared up at him. Whatever snaky comment he'd been about to make was lost in the surprised hiss, as Bruce thrust up, feeding himself up into Wally's body in tight, controlled movements, brows drawn in concentration. He watched Wally, as the man moaned and keened, tossing his head and writhing against the pillows, green eyes closed against the waves of sensation.

"F-faster!" Bruce complied, laying one hand along Wally's pale thigh as he spanned the side of his ribs with the other, thrusting into his hot, tight body. Green eyes watched him through red lashes, pale chest rising and falling as his breath sped up.

"Ha-harder!" the sensation of Wally's sack, rubbing along his cock with every thrust in, and every pull out, his own heavy bullocks beating a steady rhythm against Wally's ass. Not deep enough. Not hard enough.

With a frustrated growl, Bruce pulled out, ignoring Wally's sharp cry of protest. A flash of understanding, as he turned him over, tugging his hips back as the younger hero rested his forehead against the sheets, braced on elbows and knees. A sharp cry as he thrust back in; two noises of satisfaction, mingled together. Wally moved back against him with every thrust, meeting him with an intensity that astounded him; the slap of flesh on flesh, each thrust more wild then the last, each breath more jagged. Every few thrusts, the body tucked against him tensed, that keening, bird-like sound he was quickly coming to love breaking free of Wally's creamy throat as he brushed up against that perfect spot. Bruce made an effort to hit it more often, with varying success.

Neither of them lasted long. When Wally came with a wordless cry, his inner walls locking down tight around Bruce, Bruce followed, smothering his noise into Wally's shoulder blade. The two collapsed, tucked up against each other in tangled, soiled sheets, and lay panting, trying to catch their breath.

When Bruce felt like his bones had returned, he rolled, slowly, stretching an arm out to grab the box of tissues sitting by the dead lamp, returning back to Wally's side before the redhead could protest. With the same careful attentiveness he had showed the entire evening, he carefully cleaned the speedster, wrapping the soiled tissues in several other ones, and chucked them blindly across the room, not caring where they'd landed.

Rolling slowly onto his side, he tugged Wally with them, giving the smaller man's hand a light squeeze as the speedster laced their fingers together, lying with his head resting against Bruce's chest. The Dark Knight dragged a hand through his damp hair, letting out a long, pent up sigh.

"I don't want to sleep in this room," he explained to the ceiling a moment later, looking mildly disgruntled at the prospect of moving when his body was insisting – very loudly, in fact- that now was the time for sleep. Wally craned his neck, looking up at him, and opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce cut him off.

"Messy bed. Never could sleep in them. Wait here."

Rather than protest, the redhead simply sighed, rolling onto his stomach to watch as the man the world called the Greatest Detective stalked barefoot and naked to his closet, rummaging around for god-only-knew-what.

A small noise of triumph drew Wally's wandering, lethargic thoughts back to the present, just in time to watch as the body he'd spent the last hour touching hid it's self inside a brushed velvet house coat. While he would admit the dark blue-and-black colouring suited him, he liked Bruce Wayne much better naked. Just his personal taste.

Bruce returned to the bed, and before Wally could wriggle away, scooped both the man, and the blankets, up. Wally squirmed in his hold, flushed a furious red- the indignity burning away any remaining lethargic urges. Bruce bounced him, once, in his arms, and the irritated hero quieted, settling down with a huff. If he hadn't been clutching the blankets around himself, he imagined Flash would have crossed his arms, mirroring a pose he'd seen Shayera take many times.

Bruce bullied his tired muscles into trekking the cold, silent stone hallways of the manner, walking him and his blushing Flash burden to the fore mentioned hero's rooms. Recognising the rooms, Wally shot a questioning look up at him, but Bruce chose to ignore it, focusing on getting the door open without dropping his human-shaped baggage.

Eventually Wally rolled his eyes, reaching out and opening the door for him.

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

The room beyond glowed, done up in pale greys, blues, and silvers, the huge picture windows letting the silvered moonlight stream in. Bruce glanced down, smiling at the stunned look on Wally's face, and moved silently to the bed. He let the flash clamour from the soiled blankets, dropping the house-robe onto the back of the only chair in the room as the redhead slipped between the sheets. Padding around to the other side, Bruce climbed in behind him, pulling the redhead back until they were snug against one another. As Wally let out a small noise of contentment, muscles going limp as sleep finally claimed him. Bruce buried his nose in his hair, breathing in the scents of sweat, sex, and Wally, and smiled. Curling himself protectively around the smaller man, he let himself slip after him into the dark realms of sleep.

***


Urk. It is now Oh-Gawd in the morning, but this chapter is DONE. There WILL be a chapter three. Just... not tonight.

Thank you to Ms Pants, Kate the Night, Dork-Chan, YinYangWhiteTiger, and Kyer for their wonderful reviews.

Feed back is loved! Press the shameless button.

Tally's gunna go die now sleep until she feels human again.