"So you're a mechanic then?" Artemis asked after swallowing her bite of what really was the best sandwich she'd ever had.
"Technically," he said through his mouthful of food, he swallowed, "I'm a police mechanic. I work on the squad cars, and the occasional fire truck."
"That's pretty cool," Wally beamed with pride, and took a sip of his soda, looking out the window as he did so. "You have some-"
"What?"
"Right by your ear, you have some-" Wally blushed and grabbed his napkin to wipe it off. He kept looking up at her and inkling his eyebrows, asking if he'd gotten it yet, and she'd just laugh and shake her head. "Just let me do it," she stuck her napkin in her water and took his face in her hand and turned it so he was facing the window, and wiped away the offensive smudge of grease. "There," she whispered pulling the napkin away.
He turned back to look at her, her hand still holding his face. His green eyes darted to it and she pulled it away, a blush rising to her cheeks.
"Sooo, Artemis, what brings you to Keystone other than a job?" Wally asked breaking through the silence that had swarmed them.
"Gotham was getting a little too crowded for my taste."
"Gotham? Wow, and now I know why you know how to kick ass." She looked up from the table where she had been playing with the salt shaker and shook her head.
"No, that would be because of my father."
"Oh. So was he just protective, or more of a drill sergeant?" Artemis let out a short laugh.
"More the latter, it was an interesting childhood to say the least."
"I'm sorry," again silence settled around the two. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she played with the hems of her shorts underneath the black and white tiled table. Her chest rose and fell deeply several times before she lifted her eyes to look at him.
"So Mr. West, why are you taking my class?" Her teasing tone stressing the 'you.'
"Mr. West, really?" She nodded, earning a small chuckle from her red headed companion. "Well, when I was a boy-"
"It's to pick up chicks isn't it? How's that working out for you stud?"
"Well you're here aren't you?"
"Touché, although I wouldn't categorize this as date." He raised this eyebrow up at her in a skeptical manor.
"And what, pray tell, would you call this Ms-"
"Crock, and I would call this lunch. However if you were to ask me out to dinner," she said under hooded lashes with a sly smile present on her face. He gave her a little chuckle, reaching under the table with his long arms to grab her hand from where it sat on her knee.
"Miss. Crock," he whispered running his thumb over her knuckles, "would you please accompany me to dinner this evening?" His eyes never left hers as he made his inquisition, his sparkling green spheres penetrating her own stormy clouds.
"Why Mr. West, I can think of nothing better to do tonight, but as it is nearing two we must part ways."
"Oh? Got another date?"
"Actually," she paused to take in his stunned face, "a friend of mine is delivering my motorcycle for me." He sat there for a moment, stunned.
"You own a motorcycle?"
"Why is that so surprising?"
"It's not, it's just-" he cuts of searching her face with a smile playing on his light pink lips. "So what kind is it?"
"Well it's forest green, super pretty, god shut your mouth I'm just kidding. It's a Honda DN-01, has a v-twin engine, and runs like a dream." She had this far away look in her eye as she continued to talk about her baby, her hands flying about excitedly, and he was pretty positive right then and there that he loved her.
