AN: Wow! This story has officially passed Artemisia for reviews. If that's not something to celebrate then I don't know what is! Big shout out to everyone who has made that possible by sending me feedback, especially those of you who do so with every update.
For those of you wondering, YES, Parenthesis will be longer than Artemisia. Quite a bit longer, actually, right now at my roughest draft I have it spanning at least 50 chapters at my absolute lowest guess.
Picks from the playlist: One More Time With Feeling by Regina Spektor; Shape of My Heart by Noah and the Whale; Treacherous by Taylor Swift.
Wally simply grins watches her run a thumb over her lips, wiping whatever trace there is of him off her mouth. The same ridiculous grin is still plastered on his face, like he's just realized that the twenty dollar bill he misplaced a few days ago is still sitting rumpled in his pocket and waiting to be spent.
For a moment she looks at him, surveying him through her lashes and not quite sure what to feel—for so long she's felt unworthy of happiness that it feels odd, alien even, for so much raw and unburdened emotion to be twisting not unpleasantly in her stomach. Because her choice is made, the arrow is fired and there's no turning back now, not when he's grinning at her in a way that tells her this is okay. It's overwhelming; even more so when he suddenly laughs again at the quizzical expression on her face, her leg jostling and suddenly she's pressed up, hard, against him- for a half moment she can feel the absent throbbing back and hot and wanting between her legs, and before she can do something stupid (like lean forward and practically claw kisses out of him, because oh god she wants him so bad and he has no idea) she forces herself to pick herself off the mattress, sliding off Wally until she's back standing a safe distance away.
(She's quickly learning that just because a decision is made doesn't mean it's an easy one; she has a feeling she's only just started digging herself out of the shallow grave she had emotionally submerged herself into...)
"Where do you think you're going?" He asks her when she takes a small step backwards, hands running the length of her skirt to smooth it against her thighs.
She catches her careless fingers as they accidentally ruffle the edge of her skirt; there's a half second where Wally's eyes glance down to follow the movement and she can actually see his throat bob, and suddenly it takes all her strength to clasp her hands together instead of jumping on him like some sort of animal that's been keep in a solitary cage for far too long. (Because they both know that if this is going to work, if she's going to be able to do this without tearing him apart like all the others she's going to have to go slow. Going to have to force herself to be wary.)
"I-I don't know." She winces slightly when her voice breaks. "… I think I've reached my limit for mushiness today." It's one of the more honest things she's ever said to him, and maybe that's why he's suddenly frowning at her; he knows as well as she does that this kind of stuff, this... This talking about your feelings crap, the googley eyes, she has a low tolerance for it.
"Well I haven't." He says in a slightly bratty voice, and in the most Wally-ish way she can possibly imagine he flings himself upwards (and she can't believe he can even move this way yet; he's just gotten out of the hospital, how-?) and reaches for her; suddenly he's breaking her hands apart with his own, thumb and forefinger tracing her wrist and pulling on her last thread of resistance until she gives in against her better judgment, scowling and moving closer.
Like many times before she bends her rules for him.
"... Wally." It takes half a step until her knees collide with the edge of the bed, and when he only tugs a little more insistently on her wrist she quirks a brow that seems to say what she can't—move over, Baywatch, she's not the cuddling type. In an instant Wally releases her, making a show of scooting over until he's more than a foot away from anywhere near where she would occupy. For some reason she almost laughs and resigns herself to lying down beside him.
Careful now. Keep it together.
His bed is springier than hers, and she feels as if the whole thing will topple with each movement she makes to settle into it—lying on her back, adjusting her skirt so it fans out over her legs evenly, reaching up to tug her pony tail upwards so it doesn't press at an odd angle against her skull. She feels as if she'll topple over any second; the springs are all unbalanced, the cushions too soft and the frame too flimsy; it's as if every part of Wally that she finds annoying (his quick wit, the snarky responses, the way he changes pace so quickly in conversation) has rubbed off onto the mattress. As she's just let out an annoyed sigh she finally manages to find a comfortable spot, an indentation under her back that tells her she's lying in the exact place where he sleeps.
She folds her hands neatly across her stomach, staring at the ceiling for almost a minute before she caves in, head turning to meet his delighted gaze. "What are you looking at?" She says in a slightly rude voice, and suddenly it can't be more obvious that she's uncomfortable and incredibly nervous. "Stop looking at me. And stop being so quiet!"
He's flopped onto his stomach, and she wonders if he always lies that way or if it's just a habit he picked up from his extended stay in the hospital. She catches herself wrinkling her nose and stops just as the corner of his mouth juts upward, his face hidden and creasing where it's pressed against his pillow. "You're being quiet too." He reminds her.
"I'm always quiet." For some reason this comes out in a childish huff that turns her cheeks red and makes Wally grin wider. She taps her stomach impatiently. "… You're going to have to help me out here, Baywatch, I've never done this before. I've never... You know. With anyone."
"Me neither." He admits kind of sheepishly, and almost immediately they're back to an embarrassed silence again.
She makes it another half minute of glaring at the ceiling and hating herself before she catches him still staring again; the attention is making her annoyed and somewhat self-conscious. "Will you knock it off?" She snorts a little meanly, rolling onto her side to face him, one hand reaching out to cuff him about the jaw.
"Speaking of knocking it off, how about you stop pretending that-" He catches her hand before she can do much more than bump her knuckles a little pathetically about his chin, but rather than just throwing her off completely he holds her wrist curiously for a moment before winding his fingers between hers, their grip on each other tight before he drags them back down to rest against the sheets. "Huh." Wally muses, glancing down at their hands. "Never done that before either."
"Yes we have." She corrects him, scowling. "We've literally held hands dozens of times."
"When?"
She rolls her head over to glare at him. "You're kidding. Bialya? That time when we watched that dumb movie with Julia Roberts? On the bridge? Dozens of times." She hates that she sounds almost offended, as if their holding hands is important to her, or something.
"Yeah, yeah." He sighs, and as if he's immune to her annoyed tone he simply hums for a moment, thinking. "Well, we've never held hands lying down. Or in a bed."
She blushes and can't quite tell why. "Shut up. Do you always have to be right?"
"I don't have to be. I just usually am."
"You were just wrong a second ago!"
For some reason his shrugs, grinning at her like he's finding the whole argument a little amusing. "You're being deliberately disagreeable, Blondie."
It's odd; when she had kissed Wally… she had thought it would give her some sort of explanation. Or a new found sense of purpose. Maybe she thought it would be easier now, that suddenly she would be free from her burdens, somehow escape her awkwardness and hesitancy or their bickering. Now a vast unknown seems to stretch between them, so overwhelming and unclear that neither of them knows how to proceed to the next step.
She bites the inside of her cheek, glancing down to stare at their hands rather than look at him as she scours the inside of her head, trying to find some way to talk to him without fighting like they always do. "… Speaking of Bialya. You've never told me what happened before I woke up. If—if you want to talk about stuff we haven't done before. Or whatever."
When she glances up at him he's grinning again, a look on his face that she's come to associate with revelation—it's as if he's finally realized what he's been doing wrong on his math homework, or suddenly remembered where he left his cellphone (granted, that last instance doesn't happen often.) "Oh, man." He chuckles to himself, the whole bed wobbling as he releases her hand and flips onto his back, shifting closer until their shoulders are barely touching. "Do I have to? I'll sound like an idiot." He says to the ceiling.
A part of her almost blurts out that He sounds like an idiot most of the time anyway, but another part of her, the part that she suspects might have in instinct for this kind of thing, nudges him in the ribs with her elbow. "Yes." She tries to smile, taking his hand again.
And maybe this is progress, the fact that she knows she should take his hand; the fact that instinctively she flexes her ankle until her toes are pressing against the side of his foot, fidgeting until their feet intertwine and the bare skin poking out in the gap between the frayed bottom of his jeans and his sock seems so warm through her stockings. And it kind of scares her and she doesn't know why; the fact that the instinct for this kind of thing is still inside or, or perhaps the fact that simply lying beside him is bringing it out of her.
Wally's ears go off, so warm that she can feel them from even a few inches away. To spare him a little dignity she goes back to staring at the ceiling, listening hard when he finally figures out what he wants to say. "Uh, I remember being so hungry that my stomach woke me up." He blurts out. She almost snorts, her chest aching and lips folding tightly over each other as she struggles to keep a few breaths of mean laughter inside her. "And it took me a few minutes to realize that I wasn't in my house, or Aunt Iris'. But I knew I was lying in the sand next to some sort of building, and I decided to check it out.
"And even though it was really bright outside it felt really dark in that little shack—or maybe it just took my eyes too long to adjust, I don't know. But I fell over you—"
"You fell over me?" She bursts out, her mouth splitting into a smirk. Wally blushes again, avoiding her eyes and holding up their interlinked hands, staring at her chipped nails as if fascinated by the peeling polish Zatanna had painted on them a few weeks ago.
"Like I said," he sighs, thumb rubbing over her cuticles and catching on the frayed edges, "I sound like an idiot in this story, okay? Anyway, I kind of crash landed on the floor and it took a few minutes to realize that you were there... And then—don't hit me or anything, okay?—and then I saw you and I kind of just… It took me a few minutes, okay? Because you looked so... So beautiful, Artemis. Like I didn't believe it, I thought maybe you were a hallucination or something, because I hadn't ate for a while, you know? Like a mirage? But you felt warm to the touch and you kept letting out these cute little groans in your sleep-"
"Wally." She cuts him off, turning a horrifying red. "Don't be weird."
"It's not weird!" He sputters, looking slightly offended. "It's romantic, it's... Whatever. It doesn't matter, because then you woke up and turned out to be crazy."
She can feel her cheeks reddening. "I wasn't crazy."
"No." He concedes, grinning wickedly down at her. "Just completely gorgeous and completely terrifying... Which I guess is kind of the usual for you."
She can't stop the snort that rips through her nose and he can't stop from grinning at her, and before either of them can stop they're laughing in a way they've never laughed with each other. In a matter of seconds she can feel herself loosening, becoming more used to him, her barriers unwinding and beginning to strip themselves from her body. It takes a few minutes for them to calm down, and for once in her life she feels how she's supposed to: like a kid.
"I told you I sounded dumb." Wally chuckles, free hand scrubbing a few stray pieces of fringe off his forehead. She glances at him, looking away before he can catch her gaze, eyes crinkling at the ceiling. "Alright, Blondie. Your turn."
For some reason the question stumps her even though it's not really a question anymore; it had started as things they've never done and now she can sense it's turning into something bigger, a chance for them to start getting to know each other. Despite the fact that she can pull a couple dozen answers off the top of her head (she has secrets, too many of them, most a little too dark for the giddy mood he's put her in) she decidedly rolls her lips between her teeth for a moment, finally looking away from the ceiling and meeting his eyes, his brows waggling at her.
Something in his face shifts when she props herself up on her elbow, as if he's afraid that she'll get up and run away from him, offended by what he's asking (and if she recalls correctly she's done that once before, only this time things have changed and they're no longer two bickering teenagers looking for an excuse not to do their homework) and for once in her life she thinks she'll do something even she doesn't expect. Rolling onto her side she feels their joined hands digging into her stomach, the bend of his elbow curving around her breast.
She looks at him for far too long, pony tail dripping down the side of her neck and jaw dropped in the same calculating look she's sent him dozens of times before. She's always used it to try to unmask him, to try and read the parts of him he hid from her, but now she can sense it's pointless to try reading deeper. This person in front of her, Wally West, Kid Flash, he's just as unmasked and naked to her as he's ever been. It's her now who's revealing her face; her who's stripping herself of the façade. And maybe that's okay. Maybe that's what she's always wanted.
She can't stop herself from reaching out without any real plan of action, one calloused edge of her finger dragging from the hinge of his jaw to his chin. He lets out a rush of air through his mouth as she does it, lungs stuttering with the heaviness of the movement, so forceful that it ruffles a few pieces of hair that have fallen free from her pony tail. It's an odd reaction and she can't stop from retracing his jaw line again, the twisting sensation in her stomach sounding when this time he utters a barely there, "That's... Not really an answer..." Before his eyes grow hazy, drifting shut.
She supposes it's getting late.
She touches him so lightly, her fingers skating across features she's never touched before: The blister on her thumb running over his cheekbones. Webbing of her hand catching on his stubble. Finger pads on his eyelids. Pinky finger dragging over his lips. Nails raking through his hair. He's trying to stay still, a feat that she knows is hard for him—she makes a note to ask him about that later—his impatience only showing when his foot suddenly twitches, thankfully knocking her good leg.
He inhales a shaky but soothed breath when her forefinger runs down his neck, tracing the bob of his Adam's apple before disappearing beneath the collar of his sweater, dragging over the muscled panes of his chest. Wally's breathing stutters to a halt when her fingers first find his nipple, shifting diagonally until she touches the newly acquired scar.
She can feel his heart beat right below her finger tips, and for a moment her whole world stills.
He opens his eyes to watch her reaction but she's careful not to let too much show; instead of crying like she wants to she stops her lip from quivering, withdrawing her hand from his sweater and redoubling her grip on his fingers when she takes his hand again. "I've never touched one of your scars before." She says quietly.
Wally's brows purse. "Artemis." He says her name quietly, but doesn't say anything more.
She shakes her head, already going back to running her fingers over his jaw again. Oddly Wally drops the subject, eyes fluttering again in response to the touch.
After a moment she leans in, catching him in a kiss much softer than any one she's given him before; it's more ghost than solid, more eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones than teeth on tongue. She tries to put a lot of words into the kiss, the kind of words she wants to say but isn't brave enough to promise: No more running. Not from him. She's going to stop their never ending game of hide and seek, put an end to all the childish games of tag she's been forcing him to play. She's done second guessing herself, now is the time to hold her ground; it's time to stand beside him, time to stop pretending she'll make it out alive without him. She's done trying to lap him, done trying to outwit him, and above all she's done leaving him, done pretending she can do without... Because if there's anything he's taught her it's that when you care about people, really care about them, you don't leave. Not forever, at least.
When she pulls back Wally looks at her sleepily, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards when she settles back into his indentations in the blankets, this time lying as close and she can dare, the arc of her neck wedging into the shell of his arm. "Your turn." She reminds him, curling her knees up against the blankets and trying to send him a shy smile.
Wally stares at the ceiling to think, and after a while she hears snoring.
She doesn't sleep at all. Part of her knows Wally's to blame—he's an awful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, flipping in an almost acrobatic fashion from his stomach to his back or from one side of the end to the other; even in stillness he snores. Twice in his sleep he reaches for her, both times failing but once grabbing her pony tail in a death grip.
Wally releases her hair seconds before she starts seriously considering breaking his fingers, and at that point she gives him up as a bad job; just as she's managed to sit up she hears the blaring of the alarm in the hallway: the Team is needed.
A little ridiculously he jumps in his sleep; she can hear his feet kicking against blankets as he thrashes out towards her, one hand securing her wrist so tightly she nearly cries out. "Artemis?" He asks the darkness, voice cracking with sleep and worry and not realizing yet what's happening, as if he's caught her in the middle of sneaking out in the dead of the night. Which, she supposes, she just was.
"I'm here." She says a little stupidly, Wally's hands still grabbing frantically at her arms as if trying to convince her to come back to bed. "You have to get up though, something's happening." She hears him swear, and when she glances over at him he's already rolled over on his side, tugging the blankets up to his head. She can't stop herself from clicking her tongue impatiently, her exhaustion beginning to get to her. "Wally-"
"I'm up, I'm up." He mutters beneath the blankets, not moving.
"Wally!" She hisses, and as if knowing what she's about to do he rips the blanket off his own body, sending her a dry look in the dark. "God, you're lazy." She snorts at him.
He lets out another yawn, propping himself up on one elbow and scrubbing at his face. "Whatever. Seriously, who calls for an alarm at-" He pauses, squinting at his watch. "Three in the morning?"
She rolls her eyes when he flattens himself back into bed, grumbling. "It's just going to take longer if we don't go now." She reminds him.
Pointedly she glances back towards the door, Wally groaning again as he forces himself to sit up. "Okay, okay." He sighs, slinging an arm easily around her shoulder in his exhaustion as he stands. "Come on, let's just get this over with and then we can both come back here and-" He trails off, looking a little confused when she takes a step back from underneath his arm. "Artemis?"
"I-" She pauses, biting the inside of her cheek as a new on slot of worry starts sounding in her stomach. "How is this going to work, exactly?"
In reply Wally blinks at her, eyelids opening and closing so slowly it makes the corners of her mouth twitch. "How's what going to work?"
"... You know. This." She gestures between them. "I mean- I don't even know what this is yet. Do you think we should... Keep it quiet for a bit? Just in case...?
Wally blinks again, this time shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. "Just in case." He repeats. "... I don't really have a just in case. Do you have a just in case?" He asks her a little accusingly.
Just as she opens her mouth to reply she alarm starts going off more insistently around them, the disembodied voice calling out around them. All Team members report to the debriefing room. A little helplessly she shrugs, shaking her head when he suddenly scowls, the tired lines around his eyes darkening. "Wally- I just, just wait a second-"
She catches him just as he's almost ducked around her towards the door, pulling him back and wrapping her arms around his waist a little pathetically. "You aren't listening, Wally!" She huffs, voice breaking with a mixture of exhaustion and emotion. "Just... Work with me here, okay? I want to have time to, you know, talk about some stuff, have some conversations on our own before other people start barging in an asking us questions, like remember what happened with M'gann and-"
She's cut off when Wally kisses her quickly, lips pressing flat against hers for a half second before he pulls back, nodding. "I know." He sighs. "I know, Artemis. I'm sorry, I'm just... It's been a long day. For both of us." As if sealing some sort of resolution he reaches behind him, hands wrapping around her wrists and forcing her to unwind her arms from around his middle. "It's fine. Are you coming back here after?"
She watches him scrub sleep from his eyes one last time, her own exhaustion overwhelming her but still wishing she could give another answer. "... I think I'm going to bed after, Wally." She whispers.
He lets out a tired noise and she half convinces herself that she can hear him mutter You're already in bed to the room at large before he's running a palm through his hair, trying not to look sour. "Okay, so, talking. Tomorrow then? After school sometime? Because... I don't know, I don't want you to have... You know. A just in case. Not anymore, at least."
For some reason she feels a surge of emotion as he says it, looking a mixture of sheepish and half asleep with one hand rubbing at his eyes with a knuckle; for the first time in her life her heart actually jumps up into her throat, driving her to do something she would never do otherwise: leg aching, she forces her weight onto her toes, lips reaching up to press against his temple. "Yes, idiot. Now come on, everyone's going to beat us from to the briefing room."
She doesn't know exactly what she means by it; she just knows she wants to leave him with some sort of small comfort, something that tells him that she's not going anywhere. Not now.
She leaves the room before she can do anything else stupid, Wally muttering after her.
"Roy Harper is missing." They're the first words she hears out of Kaldur's mouth when they all manage to finally meet up, all look bleary eyed and half asleep as they blink up at various screens reflecting blue light into the darkness.
There's a half second where they're all a little too exhausted to be functioning, and Zatanna says what they're all thinking. "Uh, yeah. Thanks for the update?"
Kaldur's face sours when they all snicker a little stupidly; at once Zatanna's eyes are flicking to her across the room and instantly she knows, more out of raw instinct than anything, that all the awful things she's said over the past week are in the process of being swept under the carpet. "Pardon me. Red Arrow is missing."
The last of the snickering sobers and whatever tired energy has been humming around the room suddenly sharpens, all of their backs straightening as Kaldur turns, fingers tapping anxiously against computer keys. "The League had agreed it would be prudent to track him after... After his true identity was revealed. But after the New Year there were very little hands to spare, and it was thought that the usage of simple tracking technology would suffice to keep an eye on him; after all, our Roy had nothing to hide."
"... Or so we all assumed?" Robin sighs. "Let me guess. More secrets?"
"So what did he do?" Wally cuts across him, yawning. "Slip the tracers? Exchange more intel with the Light?"
"It is not my belief that Roy was exchanging more intel; in any case, he has not been trusted with much of anything other than information in regards to the suspected location of the Real Roy Harper- all leads, in any case, have come up dry." Kaldur sighs. "And in any case, he has proven himself to be a loyal friend."
There's a moment of sticky silence in which Connor does what he does best: voices the worst thought in all their heads. "... A loyal friend who decided to give the League the slip?"
In answer Kaldur ducks his chin, glowering at the ground. "It is not so simple. Red Arrow had been tampering with the tracers for weeks, forcing them to feed false locations to make it appear he had been keeping a regular schedule." He pauses, looking up at her with the corners of his mouth quirking upwards despite the severity of the situation, as if hoping to lighten the mood. "Your Green Arrow was most insulted that his tech had been so easily compromised."
There's a moments silence in which she exchanges a smirk with Robin- he alone knows Green Arrows identity and he alone probably knows how much of an insult it is that Queen Industries Technology could be duped so easily, especially for so long without his notice. Before she can even whisper a snarky reply Raquel clears her throat, looking slightly sour. "So Red's been leading us on a wild goose chase? Any idea why?"
"I'm sorry, but are we forgetting who we're talking about?" Zatanna asks the room at large. "I mean, it's Roy. It's not exactly out of character for him to get annoyed that he's being followed without his knowledge. Sure, it's weird that he's feeding us false locations, but the guys goes missing for weeks at a time when he's feeling bothered by the view from his apartment, how do we know he isn't... You know. Just out for another stroll?"
"It is not just that." Kaldur sighs, fingers crackling against keys again and pulling a reel of grainy film up for them on the screen."We suspect the last real location Roy leaked to us was somewhere in Gotham- he was using one of Green Arrow's vehicle's at the time and we were able to get an approximation of his location before it was disabled. Facial recognition technology was able to find him on the security footage outside of a gas station-"
"That's right by my house." She blurts out.
His brows raise but regardless of the stunned reactions around her she instantly knows exactly where the image on the screen is from; it's the Quick Run where she stopped in to grab Wally that ridiculous Flash mug for Christmas, the same place Jade made an appearance after so many months of being gone. She can see Roy, their Roy Harper, gassing up his car (or one of Oliver's cars, she supposes.) They all watch for almost a minute as he flexes the end of the pump in his hand, scanning a credit card (once again, she supposes, probably one of Oliver's) before placing the nozzles back in it's sleeve. Three seconds of fumbling with his wallet , opening the driver's side door and...
A lone figure comes at him in full sprint from behind, shoving him by the back of his jacket into his seat, backside skimming over the hood of the car before his passenger side door is open and shut in an instant, the engine revving and tires squealing in a matter of six seconds, she supposes, despite the fact that there's no sound.
"Replay that." She hears herself say, eyes squinting when the film rolls back and replays the movement of the stranger again and again. There's something familiar there, something in the movement of the hands and the rolling motion of the hips along the hood of the car... "That's my sister." She gasps out unthinkingly, and before she can stop herself she's leaving Wally's side, fingers pressing against the hologram and forcing it to zoom in. "Look, there."
She runs her fingers across the scanner, watching the unknown assailant glide over the hood of Roy's car again and again. Something in the way the clothes fit, something in the darkness of the hoodie and the tightness of the jeans.. She stops the image all together, pointing. "Look, you can see it right there, I think. Some of her hair is coming out of her baseball hat- Look, you can see the brim sticking out from under her hood. It's a Yankees hat, she loves the Yankees." She pauses, looking around at their stunned faces and she spews out this random fact. "I thought, a few weeks ago..." She hesitates, wonder if she's about to get reeled out for not telling the truth before hand. "Roy reeked like Jade back in January. I kept asking him if he was seeing her and he wouldn't give me a straight answer. I just, I thought maybe he was messing with me, or that he was smoking and drinking more and that's why, I don't know... It doesn't matter. She's my sister, guys. I know her when I see her."
Wally squints, walking up beside her with his hands on his hips. "Looks like your sister." He says unhelpfully, nodding. "So should we be happy he's with friends? Or does that mean we should be more worried?"
"... I don't know." She admits a little defensively when they all look round at her, expecting answers.
"Regardless." Kaldur cuts across them. "Roy is my best friend on the surface world. And although the League says they are handling it... The time stamp on this film is less than five hours ago. Perhaps...?" He trails off, looking at all their faces as they stiffen, now alert. "Perhaps I will take a small squad. Robin, Superboy, come with me. The rest of you may go back to bed."
For some reason she grabs his arm as he tries to pass her by, looking annoyed. "What? Kaldur, come on. She's my sister. I've been waiting for this for weeks!"
Kaldur's eyes narrow for a moment before he shakes his head, frowning. "And yet this is the first I am hearing of it." He tells her not unkindly. "You should have come to me directly with your suspicions, Artemis. This Team does not keep secrets. Not anymore." He pauses, the stern look on his face quailing her slightly. She hates that her cheeks are reddening despite the fact that he's doing little more than scolding her in front of the rest of the Team, hardly yelling. "Although I do agree. Normally I would choose you for this assignment. But you are still... He glances down pointedly at her leg. "... Besides, it is a school night." He adds kindly, as if trying to soften the blow.
She actually feels herself inflated angrily when he escapes her grasp, already walking back towards the zeta tubes. "Really Kaldur? A school night?" She huffs, glaring when he simply waves over his shoulder. "Connor's still in high school! And Robin's not even fourteen yet!"
Everyone ignores her, the others already on their way back to bed. Before Dick turns to take his leave he flashes her an annoying grin, as if quietly telling her she deserves this.
She's exhausted at school the next day, her feet dragging and hair scraggly after spending half the night up worrying about Roy and Jade. She goes through the morning wearing the same rumpled uniform she wore the day before and more than once people click their tongues after her, disapproving. She catches Dick's eyes once in the halls, and although he raises a tired brow at her appearance he doesn't stop to chat, offering no hints as to what the evening's mission held.
She supposes it won't do much good to worry anymore. Jade will find her way back to her when she's ready.
Despite being so tired and annoyed at herself for her own injuries she has an excited quirk in her stomach all day, and it takes her far too long to realize that she's actually looking forward to seeing Wally, actually looking forward to being able to talk. All the weight she's been carrying around the past few weeks or so seems to have gone, or at least seems to have lightened, been made more manageable; for once in her life she is actually excited rather than dreading what is to come. She supposes there's a spring in her step, or perhaps her limp is finally beginning to heal, because her mother actually glances up as she passes through the kitchen after school, forgoing her usual tea in favor of the full caffeine of coffee.
"You're smiling." Paula offers, one finger wedging into her book's spine to mark her place as she glances at her, looking surprised.
Too quickly she forces her face to level out, face puckering when she sips her horrible drink. "No I'm not." She shrugs, disappearing to run a brush through her hair and smudge eyeliner on her lids.
She's at the Cave before four o'clock—Wally's usual haunting hours—hits, and rather than pace around nervously or fidget with the sleeves of her sweater she decides to do some homework around the kitchen island; before long the weight of her exhaustion and the boredom she associates with biology practically puts her asleep with her eyes open, so much so that she doesn't even to think to look up when she hears his name being announced robotically to the room as a whole.
She's scratching out genetics squares for another half minute or so before she half senses someone's gaze on her back; her senses are dulled, movements slow, and for once he actually surprises her when he sneaks up behind her, one arm slinking around her shoulder. "You're supposed to do two squares for question three, your answer isn't consistent with the possible alleles of the parents."
"God." She hisses, shoulders jumping under his arm and one hand flying up so quickly to press against her rapidly beating heart that her whole notebook is bothered, papers rustling. "What the hell, Wally."
He spares her a smirk before he leans over, chin resting on her shoulder, hand reaching out to take the pen she's just dropped before he adjusts her answer. When he finishes he hesitates for a fraction of a moment, looking as if he wants to kiss her. She's a little disappointed when he pulls back, lips not even touching her cheek, edging around her and sitting at the stool beside her. "How was school?" He asks her.
They make small talk for a few minutes, still trying to find their way around the new terrain they're wobbling on; for so long they're been between annoying each other and almost being friends, now they're on the edge of becoming more. It's exciting, overwhelming; at least half a dozen terrifying emotions at once.
The small talk is easier than the big talk, the talk they're both bouncing around but both know they'll have to have at one point this afternoon; the one where they talk about their feelings and everything that's happened the past few weeks and everything that is going to happen from now on... And when faced with all that it's ridiculous easy to get lost in the comfort of telling him about her day at school, or the gross food they served in the cafeteria at lunch, or how many books are currently in her back pack...
"So," he asks her after a while, her stolen pen still in his hand and drawing random swirls around the margins of her homework. They've managed a few minutes of guessing what possibly happened last night and what exactly it means that they haven't heard anything (which clearly means nothing happened and there's nothing to report, and for all they know Roy and Jade have decided to start their new lives on some remote island somewhere for all the clues they managed to turn up.) Wally hesitates and seems to loose a bit of his nerve, changing the course of his sentence at the last minute. "... What do you want to do today?"
"I don't care." She shrugs, although she does care, she's been looking forward to seeing him all day, the only thing keeping her moderately awake through her classes. "But I need coffee."
She can see the confusion on his face, one brow quirking to watch her set the kettle to boil, hands riffling through the cupboards to extract a single cup, the tin of coffee and a filter. "I always thought you were more of a tea girl." He says, leaning back so far on his stool that the front two legs leave the ground, the only thing keeping him upright is his iron grip on the counter.
She measures the grounds of coffee carefully, only having made this once without a coffee maker. "I am, coffee is disgusting. But someone," she emphasizes, glancing at him as the kettle boils. "Kept me up last night with their tossing and turning. And that was before I had my sister to deal with."
"Oh." She can see his ears reddening, the front of the stool slamming down a little harder than expected as he adjusts his weight to sit properly. "Uh, sorry. I've never slept with anyone before. Not uh, like that- not that I wouldn't like to, that is, uh-"
He looks grateful when she cuts him off, snorting. "God, Wally. You're such a geek." She tries to say confidently, ignoring the way her own cheeks have suddenly ignited like his ears as she turns back to the kettle, now whistling.
They watch in silence as she pours the boiling water through the filter. It's a slow process, one that requires more focus than tea; she has to keep the stream even, has to make sure all the grounds in the filter get properly soaked, has to make sure she doesn't pour her water too quickly, should she accidentally make it too weak. By the time she's finished her cup is full to the brim and black.
"Do you, uh?" She gestures at him with the kettle, silently asking him if he wants a cup. Wally shakes his head, but still gets to his feet, a little curious.
"No point. Fast metabolism." He reminds her.
Something quirks in her memory and she half glances at him, deciding she'd rather talk about this than listen to him start stuttering about sleeping with her again. "You know, you've been telling me that for a while and I still don't really know what it means."
Wally watches her add a teaspoon of sugar to her cup, a look in his eyes telling her that he's memorizing the way she takes her coffee for future reference (one sugar, no milk.) She's already swirled her spoon around the cup twice before he snaps out of it, speaking. "Oh. Well, running so fast kind of forces my body to speed up its metabolic rate. So normal functions, like digestion, red or white blood cells, brain function, all the jazz, they're forced to speed up too."
He pauses as if this somehow explains something, and she has to prompt him with a small jut to the ribs. "… Okay? And?"
He watches her sip her coffee, her mouth puckering with the bitterness as it did earlier that afternoon. "So, if I drank that coffee, my body would process and eliminate the caffeine so quickly it wouldn't have an effect. Same with alcohol, drugs—nothing."
"Huh. So you're kind of forced to live with no vices." For some reason this is odd to her; she can hardly walk down a street without seeing people smoking, drinking out of bottles covered in brown paper, can hardly pass by an alley without her boots kicking disregarded needles. Even she drinks her tea like it's lifeblood rather than herbal water, even she's indulged more than once with liquor... She almost can't imagine having to go through life completely sober.
Maybe that's a little fucked up on her part.
Wally shrugs, fingers tapping at the counter beside her waist. "Well, I mean, I could if I really wanted to. There just isn't much of a point. I mean, I've watched Uncle Barry drink coffee out of habit, because Aunt Iris has it in the mornings. But he doesn't get all jittery like she does."
Still, she forces herself to take another hearty swig from her cup and then promptly offer it to him, trying to grin coyly. "You sure you don't at least want the experience?" She asks, as if trying to tempt him.
Wally glances down at the cup and then up at her, something in his face shifting and eyes growing mischievous. Before she can properly brace herself for what she knows is coming he drops his jaw slightly, leaning in.
It's short but almost immediately invasive; in the half second he's pressed up against her lips his tongue seems to swirl against her, sucking hard on her lower lip and inhaling the breath out of her mouth, as if trying to take some small part of her with him when he pulls back, jostling her cup so much that she nearly spills. The movement leaves her slightly light headed, her cheeks practically glowing when he wrinkles his nose at her, expression sour.
"Yuck. You weren't kidding about how bad that tastes."
She scowls at him and punches him as she always does in the shoulder, and this time a few drops coffee do dribble over the lip of her mug and onto the tile floor. The ever present gentleman, Wally mops it up with his sock. "Gee, Wally. You really know how to compliment a girl."
He shrugs, smirking at her. "Whatever. Can we go? Or are you actually going to drink all that?"
She glares at him but can't stop herself from smiling as she places her cup on the counter. Wally takes her hand and she hopes to god that she has some gum stashed in one of her pockets.
Neither of them have any specific plans for the afternoon; regardless, it's easier to be with each other carefully dancing around conversation than be alone and drowning in it, and almost decidedly they both wrap their jackets around their shoulders and start walking.
They walk around the Cave, they walk outside, they follow the curve of the frosted mountain until they find themselves walking beside large expanse of flat rock that seems to jut out around the base of the mountain, both their breaths a little labored as they wade through the sand, zippers of their jackets undone and enjoying the first hint of spring in the air. After a while her leg is twinging and he has to stop and spit some phlegm in the sand, the two of them carefully avoiding each other's eyes when this happens.
They're both still on the mend, she supposes.
They keep up their little game of the previous night, asking each other questions that they don't know the answers too. As if there's some unspoken rule between them they keep their questions light, easy to answer, and before long she can feel herself putting together a map of the boy keeping pace beside her— Wally Rudolph West (his parents didn't give him a chance with that goddamn name.) Sixteen, no desire for a driver's license. Could eat buckets of any kind of pasta; the carbs keep him full longer but it's better for running of there's a protein too. The walls of his bedroom at home are painted a ridiculous fire truck red, which not only matches the color of the Flash's uniform but is also his favorite color. He's oddly afraid of horses (they make him nervous for some reason,) dislikes almost every green vegetable she can name off the top of her head and has a ridiculous bias against anyone who won't give country music a fair chance (she tells him almost immediately that she hates country music and he tells her with without missing a beat that he'll make an exception.)
They've done nearly a lap around the whole harbor when he catches her wincing; she's been trying not to show how bothered she is by the uneven ground, how weak she is in the grand scheme of things still. Without comment Wally doubles his grip on her hand and makes a bigger deal that he has to about how nice it would be to sit and watch the sun go down on the beach. She's never liked him more than she does in that moment, even if she feels like the has to justify herself by rolling her eyes and sighing "Fine."
But maybe a part of him understands her; understands that she won't allow herself to sit until he tugs insistently on her wrist. And maybe she likes it, that he knows all these little things without asking, knows the right things to do or the right things to say, unlike her... She settles beside him on the beach and feels ridiculous at how close she sits, at least until he's extracting his hand from the pocket of his coat and winding it around her shoulders, so innocent in the movement that she looks at his fingers, placed delicately on the swell of her shoulder, in surprise.
Nobody has ever treated her with as much gentleness and tenderness as Wally has in the last twenty four hours. She's so used to bashing people's heads in and keeping up her own walls that she's forgotten what it's like... To let someone in. To let them touch her skin and trace the outline of her heart without worry of sharpened edges or unkind words... It's so alien to her, in the best possible way.
Wally notices her gaze on his hand and almost immediately removes it, ears reddening and elbow bending behind her neck. "Sorry—I didn't know if that was okay or—"
"No." She says shyly, leaning more firmly against him and immediately being flooded with the warmth seeping through his jacket. "It's okay. I don't mind." She says it almost as if she's doing him a favor, but neither of them can ignore the blushing of her cheeks; for a while they both watch the swell of the water on the shore and she tries not to look at the smug expression on his face.
"It's your turn." He prompts her after a while. "… To ask a question."
She glances at him, pausing. "… I can't think of anything." She says honestly, and for the first time in her life she realizes her brain is no longer buzzing, no longer working itself into an anxious fit of questions and suspicions and trying to see though other people's exteriors. For once all she registers inside her head is sound of gulls flying low over the water and the lingering smell of cologne on the collar of Wally's jacket.
Instead of prompting her to rack her brains or say anything like what she's expecting something in Wally's face changes, features softening and eyes crinkling as he smiles at her. "… You're really pretty." He says simply.
She can feel her cheeks reddening and she glances down in time to catch her fingers curling in the sand between them, the underside of her nails caking with dirt. "You've said that before." She reminds him, not sure if they're still playing their game of never-before and unanswered questions.
"Doesn't make it any less true." He shrugs, his arm pulling her closer. "… Can I-?" She looks back at him just into time to see him lean in, not waiting for her answer before he kisses her.
And maybe for a second she almost considers pulling back, almost considers pulling away and trying to smile at him, trying to force herself to ruin the moment with the conversation they need to have. Only this time she's done keeping him at an arm's length, don't trying to tell him all the different ways she's dangerous. They've jumped that hurdle now, they've turned that final corner; now they need to define what this is, they need to say, in so many words, how they feel about each other... But then again she thinks, catching herself sighing into his mouth as he tilts his jaw more surely towards her, maybe those things have always been fine going unsaid between them.
The water keeps sweeping against the shore. The sun keeps making its way down the Western horizon, the gulls keep cawing overhead and the watch on Wally's wrist keeps ticking past the seconds but here, on the beach with his lips pressed against hers, Artemis wishes for the first time in her life that time would stand still.
It may be true that after a day of talking they haven't really talked about much, after all... There's still a lot of feelings etched between them, still a lot of unanswered questions and boundaries they need to establish. But being on this beach with Wally, feeling the sand beneath her fingers and the warmth of the setting sun on her face, feeling his lips as they prod hers open and pull the breath right out of her lungs... It feels as everything that led to this moment has been one long sprint. And now her muscles are aching and she's groaning into his mouth as his teeth drag along her lower lip... And maybe in some ways their marathon is over, their race has been won, now they're both exhausted and their bodies are drained and all that really feels real in this moment is his hand on her denim coated knee and his fingers as their tangle into the end of her pony tail...
Maybe when the running is over all there's left to do is be still.
At least for a moment.
AN: Another chapter up! Please read and review.
On a side note, one of the most common and surprising things I found in the reviews was how shocked everyone was that Artemis decided to stay behind for Wally. When I was writing it I always had it planned for her to choose him, either directly or by doubling back for him (by leaving the room and coming back, for example.)
One biggest questions I got both via review and in private messages (and I'm still answering some of those! I will get back to you!) was "Why now?" and I think for that the answer is pretty simple... Why not now? Why not New Years? Why not nothing at all until their sudden coupling a few months before the Season 2 timeline?
To be frank, the only difference between this "now" and all the other possible "nows" that could have happened is that the Artemis I'm writing is tired. She's tired of fighting herself, fighting her family, fighting Wally... Mentally, emotionally, and physically she's about fifty different kinds of exhausted. That kind of exhaustion makes people more susceptible to their vulnerabilities, and in this case I just feel like this is a right time, right place kind of moment that they both needed to take advantage of. Wally's finally worn her down, and for once in her life she's far enough from the influence of her family to allow herself to be convinced it will be okay and that she's untouchable, at least for a while.
But if you guys are really missing all the angst, you know I'm always good for a little something up my sleeve...