DC Comics owns The Flash and Batman.

If I owned them, I'd bring back Wally West.

Barry Allen's not bad, but I think Wally did a better job at being The Flash. And, technically, he's had more experience than Barry.

AU/Crack-fic/Fluffy-ness/BatFlash pairings (Not entirely dirty. I got tired of that stuff.)

(This chapter has a mix of Bruce and Wally POVs.)

(Chapter 4 will fully be in Bruce's POV.)

Tony's bistro was your typical average Italian restaurant. Semi-dim lights, mahogany walls, cherry oak floors & tailored waitresses and bus boys. Everything about the place was as cliché as The Godfather movie.

Wally took note and concluded Gotham's wealthiest individuals and members from an unknown mafia use this place as a last resort when being bombarded from paparazzi and the likes. Similar to a shelter for the homeless, but fit for a refuge for the richest. The red haired man was OK with this.

Although, he wasn't too pleased with his current sports coat over charcoal t-shirt & boot leg cut jeans attire. No one cared to judge as they were busy discussing politics or another stratagem for fooling their contenders into partnering with their companies.

I look next to nothing compared to Bruce.

Wally guided Bruce to the nearest window at the corner to the right of the bistro. A waitress by the name of Katie followed them with the menus in hand.

"Hello gentlemen, may I help you-" she stopped her usual standard greeting and gaped at Bruce. "You-you-you're Bruce Wayne!" Katie shrieked. Bruce nodded his head in agreement. "That I am. And by your name tag, your name is Katie? What a lovely name for such a ravishing woman like you."

The woman cheeks flushed upon hearing her name mouthed by the billionaire. Katie giggled before handing one of the carte du jour's to the jealous speedster and the other to Bruce. "I'll be back with you two fine gentlemen in a moment to take your order." The waitress took off in frenzy towards the other customers.

"Does everyone in Gotham treat you like that?" Wally asked, jealously slowly receding. Bruce's ultramarine eyes attentively fixed his gaze on Wally. "Not everyone."

"Another question, does it bother you with the constant flirtations you receive?"

"Oftentimes, yes, it does."

Wally figured that was a good enough answer, so he went with it. He began to open the menu, skimming through the items at a painstakingly slow-but-normal-for-a-human speed. All of the items on the list were in Italian, but it did help there were at least some pictures to the right of the objects. Not wanting to embarrass himself or look like a complete idiot, he caved in and asked what the names on menu were.

"Bruce?"

The man parallel to him looked up from his menu. "Yes, Wally?"

"I have no clue what these words mean on this menu. I only read and speak in one tongue, and that's English." Bruce's amused expression knew the speedster couldn't speak a second language, but he didn't tell Wally that. "How about I order for the both of us?"

"That would be helpful, actually. I'm not picky, so you can order practically anything."

"How about chicken parmesan for you, and tomato and basil bruschetta for me. Is that sufficient enough?" Bruce suspected it wasn't. He took a mental note to order any favourite food that Wally generally consumes around Keystone City.

Wally adjusted his chair and situated himself closer to the table. Bruce could tell the man was nervous. Most of the reason being he knew one meal wasn't fit for a meta human. "Sure. That's fine for me." The younger man perceived he had to limit the amount of food he consumes in front of Bruce for fear of revealing his true identity. The Flash's appetite was like no other. It'd be a dead giveaway if Wally started inhaling dish after dish of Italian food.

Something deep in my gut tells me he already knows, but just to be on the safe side, I'm keeping my secret under the radar. He just had to torture me with Italian food.

"Wally?"

Snap out of it, Wallace. Pay attention.

"Yes, Bruce?"

"Do you drink alcoholic beverages?"

What kind of question is that?

"Uh, sure. Why?"

"Just wondering."

Katie cropped up out of nowhere to take the orders. "Are you gentlemen ready to order?" Bruce repeated the desired items off the menu. "Anything else?" She asked, writing down the orders on her matte black memo pad. "I would also like to order a bottle of Castel del Monte."

"Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes."

"I'll return with your orders shortly."

There was a sparkle in Bruce's eyes when Wally took a gander in his direction.

I wonder what Bruce is thinking?

He's not going to confess anytime soon. Either Wally's really has no clue to what's going on, or he's pulling the wool over my eyes.

Bruce's furrowed his brow at the thought, watching the speedster stare idly at his napkin. He didn't know if the man was on the verge of a mental breakdown or really wanted to tear the napkin to shreds out of habit.

Considering his behavior for tonight, I say Mr. West is doing a fantastic job at or it's just another masquerade. Usually he's up & out of a place in a minute. Maybe he takes his identity seriously. Maybe the guy is aware of my plan. If it's gonna take The Batman to force him to admit, so be it.

As for now, Bruce Wayne's in charge.

For all that is holy, tell him you can't drink at this time Flash!

Meta's super-accelerated metabolic systems cleanse the body of toxins faster than your average human being. To put it quite simply, alcohol passes through a speedster's system as soon as it's consumed.

Wally couldn't risk revealing his identity in here. They'd notice something's gone awry if the guy showed the tell-tale signs of a hangover. After that, he couldn't fake being drunk.

Wally's internal battle with his mind sent the speedster off the ledge. He had to do something quick. At this point, he didn't care if Bruce was dubious of the fabrication. It will stall him some time to get the hell out of here.

If I drink, I'll get so drunk I'll eventually pass out. That can work. Even if it's for a second.

Asides the cocktail beverages, I thought I was supposed to be collaborating with this guy on a case issued by GCPD?

"Bruce, I don't think-" Bruce waved a hand in front of Wally signaling for him to stop talking. "Hold that thought..." Katie cheerfully bustled in. "Here is your long-awaited Castel Del Monte! I'll return with your food shortly." She turned her gaze at the speedster, smiling. "Looks like a dashing red head like you is gonna get lucky tonight." The waitress then ogled at Bruce. "Take care of him, hot shot. He's a keeper."

The woman hustled off in what Wally deemed as a 'professional fashion'.

"Bruce I'm telling you, I don't think now's the time to get plastered."

"Why not?" Bruce winked and began pouring the drinks. "Here, you'll love it."

Wally took the glass with caution. "What happened to the case I was assigned in Gotham?"

"What about it?"

"Did you forget, playboy?"

"Can we drop the subject and resume the topic...oh let's say...tomorrow, at my place?"

Wally seethed with rage. Bruce definitely wasn't going to listen. "Bruce! I. Can't. Drink. Alcohol." He all but whispered at the billionaire.

"...And that is?"

C'mon Wally, just tell the truth.

"I'm allergic." The last word whispered as he buried part of his face behind the glass.

Or you can lie. Way to go, idiot.

"You're allergic?"

"That's why I was wary. I break out in these god awful hives...It's appalling." He pointed at his forearm, stomach & upper right shoulder blade. "These areas are where it hits worse."

Bruce gawked at the slander in his voice. "...And I've heard you're quite the regular when it comes to consuming alcoholic brews."

"Whoever said that clearly lied to you."

"What if I say it was David?"

"The guy I work for? How would you know? Can't a guy be allergic to booze & break out in these ghastly hives that looks like a miniature alien just impregnated my skin with green goo?"

Bruce chuckled. "Do you honestly want me to believe a fabrication such as what you just said?" His smile radiated like a thousand suns. Wally cleared his throat, calling the attention of the individuals nearby. Everyone shifted their attention towards the table in the corner. Wally's cheeks flushed red. "Nothing to stare at, folks. Just clearing my throat."

"So, by you not replying and averting the subject, you admit to lying?"

Wally inspected the liquid inside the glass he was still holding. The wine swished as he titled the drink ever so slightly. "That was a bad lie, was it not?" Bruce picked up his own alcoholic concoction. "I 'almost' believed you...until you mentioned something along aliens and goo. Drink up."

"Off with my overcoat off with my gloves

Who needs an overcoat I'm burning with love?

My heart's on fire and the flame grows higher,

So I will weather the storm.

What do I care how much it may storm?

I've got my love to keep me warm." ~I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm covered by Dean Martin.

Outside, frost began to build up on windows on each & every building outside the restaurant. The wind grew colder. The night, dimmer. A few blocks away, people gathered together to sing Christmas carols. Children rushed out in the streets to witness the first glimmering crystals falling from the skies. The harmonizing ensemble began to start on their own rendition of 'Silent Night'

Tonight was going to turn out better than Wally thought it out to be. He finally took a cautious sip of the Castel Del Monte wine. The liquid, gentle & soft as it trickled down his tongue. The cherry flavouring dancing along his tastebuds, causing a mixture of bliss and sinful temptations to swarm in the speedster's mind.

Screw faking allergies, I think I'm in heaven.