Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/947953.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Young_Justice_(Cartoon)
  Relationship:
      Barry_Allen/Iris_West_Allen, Barry_Allen/Wally_West
  Character:
      Barry_Allen, Iris_West_Allen, Wally_West, Mary_West, Dick_Grayson
  Additional Tags:
      Character_Death, Marriage, Age_Difference, Incest, Angst, Depression,
      Hurt/Comfort, Anal_Sex, First_Time, Masturbation, Blow_Jobs, Near_Death
      Experiences
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-30 Words: 36960
****** And the World Spins Madly On ******
by AeeDee
Summary
     A prompt for the YJ_anon_meme, where an anon asked for an AU where
     Iris Allen meets an early death, and Wally does his best to comfort a
     devastated Barry. They wanted special emphasis on Wally as Barry's
     "wife", with a heavy theme of comfort and attempting a normal life,
     despite everything that's happened. 
     The title is from a song by The Weepies.
For the first time in his life, Barry Allen was effectively speechless.
He received the news in a quiet hospital room, the doctor’s voice accompanied
by the eerie humming of machines in the walls.
He didn’t need to be told; he already knew. He’d realized it the minute she
stopped breathing, the instant he squeezed her hand and didn’t feel her
respond. Her eyes remained closed, since her chest had stopped mid-fall. In
those milliseconds he watched in agony, because when the world slowed down he
realized how extremely still she was.
But he held his composure. He gave a slow nod. He held back a sob and cleared
his throat to ease the tension. He clasped his hands together to keep them from
shaking. There wasn’t much else after that. The silence in the room, the
curious sound of one less person breathing. The doctor’s voice, sympathetic,
wise.
He tried to talk, but no sound came out. So instead he nodded. Spent what felt
like forever in that room, sitting beside her bed. Minutes that felt like
hours. Precious seconds where it was just him and her, for as long as he could
remain beside her before they politely escorted him out.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He promised her a lifetime, and he was a
powerful enough man to guarantee the dream. He could bend the rules of physics,
the rules of time; how had he missed this? How did he let this happen…
He dropped his guard, for one wrong assumption. One wrong mantra of, “She can
take care of herself”. Well, maybe she can, but that doesn’t mean the other
driver could tell Left from Right, or see worth a damn.
He knew she could. Could.
He felt the tears falling when he stepped out into the hallway, but he didn’t
bother hiding them. The act would prove futile; even as he wiped at them with
his hands, trembling hands, unsteady hands as he heard the reassuring voices,
faint voices of comfort from the few that came to meet with him. The few that
came for a chance to see her before she left the world. There’s an arm around
his shoulders, but he didn’t know whose it was; didn’t look.
It’s not a strong grip, but it didn’t matter; he politely thanked them, an
incoherent mumble that’s a bit too rushed to make any sense.
And he kept himself steady as he walked down the hallway, resisted the urge to
run away. Because there was nowhere to go, anyway. Nowhere he would find her.
Not this time.
When he arrived home, to a house decorated with her things, the scent of the
breakfast she’d cooked lingering in the room; when he took his seat at the
abandoned kitchen table, where he’d first heard the news via telephone and fled
like the wind, hoping that if he got there fast enough…
His voice was hoarse from crying, when he heard a hesitant knock on the door.
Quiet, like the hand on the other side was afraid.
It felt awful to move, stiff and tense, but he still reached it in something
resembling his usual time. Opened the door to see wide eyes on the other side,
staring up at him with the kind of raw emotion few others could ever manage.
The kind of emotion that’s too genuine to be insincere.
The boy’s voice a clumsy tumble, as a blush slowly spread across his face,
“I’msorryifI’mbotheringyou but I was thinking you could use some company so
I’mhereforyou.”
Barry responded with a hand on his shoulder, an exhausted but small smile at
the edge of his lips. It hurt to make the expression, but… “Thank you,” his
throat burned so much he couldn’t even add the usual kid at the end.
But he didn’t need to; Wally was returning a smile to him, cautious but
sincere, so sincere.
Barry didn’t know what ever made this kid so brave.
Even though they sat mostly in silence, the television a quiet hum in the
background, he found some relief in talking to him about his day at school. It
was nice, even for a couple of hours, to imagine that it was not real, that his
world was still normal and that he was not about to fall apart.
It was nice to pretend, even for that tiny amount of time. Hours that felt like
days, in exactly the way he wanted. The way he needed them to. He’d never
thought it’d feel so nice to hear someone else’s voice.
But when that warm presence, his unexpectedly pleasant company left for the
evening…
His world promptly resumed collapsing.
-
Wally can’t imagine what Barry was going through. Not at all.
He’s encountered death before. Significant acquaintances that died in the line
of duty, doing what they loved. Distant relatives he’d never known extremely
well. A dog, when he was little. A classmate from school once, who committed
suicide. Death existed. He knows what it is.
But he’s never felt it like this, and he’s certain that whatever he feels,
Barry is enduring worse.
He cried when they gave him the news. He didn’t make a big show of it, but that
didn’t mean his face wasn’t a mess.
Iris. Iris. Why her, of all people…
She was like a mother to him; on most days she was his mother, because she
loved him unconditionally, she loved him genuinely and honestly and with more
compassion than he’d ever known.
The pain has begun to set in; it took a few hours. Unlike Barry, he didn’t feel
it immediately. It took a few hours to realize she was gone, and that he’d have
to die with any regrets he still had, anything he’d always wanted to say to
her, and never found the chance for.
Things like, Thank you for always being there for me and I love you.
He’d said I love you before. But somehow it didn’t feel sincere enough. It
wasn’t strong enough when he did, because he was laughing and rushing out the
door and he didn’t know if she took him all that seriously.
But he consoled himself by thinking that Barry probably told her every day.
Somehow, that made it better, made it easier to deal with. Because if there was
anyone that deserved to hear it…
Barry told her every day, because Barry loved her so much, and Oh God how does
he feel now-
He returns to Mount Justice the day after the funeral, just like he promised he
would. When he arrives to the tune of Recognized, B03, Kid Flash, he’s greeted
with empty stares. No one knows what to say. He’s startled by a faint outcry, a
sorrowful, “Oh, Wally,” from Megan as she rushes towards him.
He doesn’t react the way he normally would. He doesn’t crack a smile. He
doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t blush. When she hugs him, he stiffly reaches an arm
around her shoulder to return the gesture.
Dick is clarifying the obvious, his voice surprisingly quiet, “We heard the
news.” Wally didn’t realize he was capable of speaking that softly.
“Yeah,” is really all he can say. He’s not comfortable enough yet to discuss
it. Doesn’t even know where he’d begin. All of his thoughts start with sadness
and regret and end with anguish and fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of a life
without Iris. Fear of how this will change him. Fear of how this will change
Barry.
He can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop worrying, thinking that he’s
suffering right now, he might be alone in that house, he’s too proud to ask for
help, he needs someone-
“Wally,” Megan’s voice is tiny as she looks up at him, relaxing her embrace.
Wally notices her concern, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.
“Wally,” she pauses, her bottom lip giving a slight tremble, “Are you crying?”
He gives an inadvertent hiss, and looks away. She withdraws back. He wipes at
the corner of his eye with a shaking hand, and yes, God, he is. Not again, not-
Dick’s voice again, “It’s okay.” A brief pause. “We understand.”
Do you? But Wally knows that thought was selfish, of course they do, of course
Dick of all people, Dick understands better than most people…
He finds himself thinking that Dick would be an ideal person to talk about this
with. That maybe he’d have some advice for how to initially cope. That he’d
know what to do with this soul-crushing, hurting, sinking sensation in his
chest.
If he could be any better put-together, he’d confide in him.
“You don’t have to stay,” Dick’s telling him. “You can have the day off.”
When did this little boy grow up? When did he learn to speak like that, like
his mentor. Ordering him around, deciding what’s best for him, looking maturely
at the situation...
And from across the room, a booming voice, low and deep. “Go home, Kid Flash.”
Wally looks up towards the sound, startled because he hadn’t realized the man
was in the room.
“We’ll handle everything here.”
-
Be with your family. That was the next thing he said.
In his own way, Bruce was helping. He was offering what assistance he could, by
making sure that Wally was able to take time to adequately assess and deal with
his grief. But he doesn’t want to deal with it. He wants to run from it, to
forget it, to spend time with his friends and delay that horrible experience
for another few hours.
But the instant he politely agreed, thanked no one in particular and left, he
wasn’t thinking about his grief anymore.
Barry.
The name that’s been on his mind all day. All week.
Barry,
Ever since the man left the hospital room, his eyes more clouded and heavy than
Wally had ever seen them. His shoulders low, his walk unsteady. Because Wally
could process things faster, he could see the fractional sparks of imbalance
and the missing coordination in every shift of his legs- He could hear the
sudden and uneven breaks in his breathing-
When he reached an arm across his back, it was the first time in years that
Barry hadn’t returned the gesture. It was the first time he hadn’t thanked his
protégé, or laughed kindly at him, ruffling his hair, smiling in his general
direction. It was the first time he received a cold shoulder, and nothing but a
steady walk forward, as the man gradually slipped out of it.
Ordinarily, it would have hurt him. It would have hurt his feelings. But Wally
wasn’t thinking about himself then.
Like now, as he’s running at full speed, traveling across a busy city, thinking
that there’s no way to ease his mind except to arrive at that man’s front door,
to make sure he’s okay, well he knows he’s not okay but to make sure he’s
functioning, to see if he needs something, does he need to talk, is he-
He’s knocking at that door. And when it opens, he’s greeted with what almost
looks like a smile. Even if the face peering down at him is exhausted and worn-
down.
Barry’s voice is gentle but tired, “Hey, kid.”
At least the familiar kid came back.
Wally’s smiling, to the best of his ability. “Hi, Uncle Barry.”
I’m here for you.
-
Barry’s suggestion of a laugh is fragile and rough, but it feels better to try,
than to be resist the urge. He’s only laughing at a dumb joke on tv, but it’s
the first thing that’s brought him joy for the last several hours, so it
counts. It matters. Because it’s the first thing that’s managed to make him
happy today.
Well, one of the first things.
He steals a glance at his nephew, as he’s crawling across the couch, reaching
for the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He’s moving so slow lately. Barry
starts to wonder if Wally’s feeling like him, feeling dragged down, heavy with
a weight he can’t shake off. Barry wonders if it hurts him to move, hurts him
to think, hurts him to exist right now.
Iris was precious to Barry; she was special. But he knows how much she meant to
Wally, too. And with the boy’s age, he can only imagine what this must feel
like. The world is more frightening, when you’re just a kid. Death is only an
abstract concept, until it happens to you, really hits you.
It feels good to think about someone other than himself.
His eyes are still on him, as the boy settles back into the couch, pausing to
glance back as Barry nervously looks away. Shouldn’t stare like that. It’s
impolite. It’ll make him uncomfortable.
Barry leans over slightly, and reaches across the distance to slide a heavy arm
around Wally’s shoulders; feels the boy tense up beneath him as he tugs him
closer, tense up for a few breaths. Tense, tense; Wally shifts himself around,
moves closer, so close Barry can hear him breathe. And starts to relax. Starts
to relax, he’s breathing slower as he presses his face against the man’s
shoulder.
It feels natural.
Barry murmurs something that’s on his mind, something painful but necessary.
“You know Iris loved you, right.”
He feels Wally nod, and his body shakes, as he starts to cry.
But it’s okay. That’s why they’re here. That’s why they’re together.
Come Hell or high water, they’re going to weather the storm.
-
Wally’s mother doesn’t approve.
She doesn’t approve of many things. Parking fees. Cold lunches. Backtalk from
her son. Pigeons. And lately, Wally’s new habit of, as she puts it, “Bothering
Uncle Barry.”
“He needs time alone,” she says. “Let him grieve on his own.”
Wally doesn’t know what to say to that. Normally he’d have a quick response, a
witty comeback. Normally he’d be able to issue out a quick defense.
But this time, he’s thinking she might be right. What does he know, anyway? He
doesn’t know anything about grieving over someone; not like that. He doesn’t
know what it feels like, to lose someone you love as deeply as Barry loved
Iris.
So he sits still, and nods. Mumbles something about just going to visit his
team after school, and that he’ll be home for dinner.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe Barry doesn’t need someone like him, to distract him
from what matters most right now.
Whatever that is.
-
Time passes.
He doesn’t see him.
The emptiness in his heart is feeling heavier.
Barry hasn’t come by the house, since the incident. He doesn’t even call.
Maybe she’s right, after all. Maybe she’s right.
Or so he believes.
Three days of silence, he’s sitting with his friends at Mount Justice when his
mind starts to wander. They have a mission tonight. They’ll travel halfway
across the city. Near Barry’s house. Where he’s alone. Where he’s alone,
probably watching tv, or falling asleep on the couch…
Is he okay. Did he remember to eat dinner. Is he as tired as he was the last
time they saw each other. Is he even worse. Is he feeling better in any way.
Did he remember to call his grief counselor…
He’s chewing on his bottom lip, grinding his teeth slowly as he finds himself
unable to stop thinking. The thoughts race. Concerns and worries he can’t
answer. He can’t answer any of them, without going there, without asking him,
without finding out.
His mother said to mind his own business. She told him to keep to himself.
Barry needs alone time, needs time to grieve, needs time to deal with his loss.
But somehow that doesn’t seem good enough.
“I have to go,” he suddenly says.
“Huh?” Dick asks, turning to face him.
“Just for a little bit. I’ll be right back.”
And he means that.
He just…
“Okay, sure,” Dick shrugs at him, downplaying his confusion.
He has to know.
-
When he knocks on the door, vaguely ashamed because he’s still in his uniform,
there’s no answer. He starts to shiver from the cold air, and he’s thinking,
You idiot, as he tries to look inside the dark windows, He’s probably out on a
mission.
But as he’s turning to leave, the door opens.
When he turns back…
Barry’s standing there, hair disheveled, shirt partially unbuttoned. Darkness
behind him, the darkness of no lights turned on inside the house, a darkness
that makes him seem exhausted, exhausted as he’s barely able to stand. Wally’s
eyes widen as he notices the tremor in his legs.
And all the man says is, “I’m sorry,” before he collapses on the floor.
-
It takes effort, but he manages to drag him towards the couch. Thankfully, once
his body hits against the foot of it, Barry’s coming to his senses as he sits
himself up and climbs onto it, with some assistance.
Wally has his cowl pulled back, his face wrought with concern beneath the
freshly turned-on lights, as he’s quickly opening a box of what appears to be
crackers—close enough, anyway—and sitting himself down on the edge of the
cushion beside him.
Before Barry can question it, there’s a hand in his face, holding something
that’s… edible.
“Youneedtoeat,” Wally manages, barely obscuring his concern. Chances are high
that he’s not even trying. Not honestly.
Despite his circumstances, Barry finds it adorable. Endearing somehow, more
than it should be.
Barry hesitantly reaches up and takes it from him—yep, a small cracker, as some
of the salt peppers his fingers—and in two bites it’s gone. Before he can ask
or look for the box, there’s another one being offered. And another. And
another. And then the box, open and practically tossed into his lap.
Wally finally starts to relax, with a slow sigh as his eyes drift away, for the
first time in what feels like minutes. He’s peering across the room, as he
complains, “You had me worried sick.”
“I’m sorry,” he’s saying in between bites and chews, trying to think on how to
convey more emotion than that. Some extent of the sudden spark of appreciation
he feels. But the more he thinks on that, the more mystified he is, than
anything. And when he finally pauses in his food rampage to speak, his voice is
murmured and hazy, “How did you know…”
Wally looks at him with those soft green eyes, and for a moment Barry’s lost in
them. That look on his face is so pure, so pure, like he has every good
intention in the world. Good intentions. Compassion. Concern. Kindness, all
rolled into one.
He manages to finish his statement, “to come by?”
Wally blinks back at him. A small sound, almost a squeak, “Huh?”
“I mean I…” his voice is trailing off.
Wally’s frowning at him.
Barry groans. So the boy really didn’t know. Was it just coincidence, then? “I
was in pretty bad shape before you arrived.”
Wally stares at him, barely moving.
“You saved my ass, kid.”
But Wally’s not responding still.
Now Barry’s getting concerned. He sets the cracker box down onto the floor, and
sits up slowly; because moving too fast’ll make him dizzy. He keeps a cautious
eye on his nephew, because he can tell he’s concerned, something’s wrong-
When Wally speaks, his voice has sharp edges. “You need to be careful.”
Barry gives a small sigh, “I try?” He shakes his head, “I do my best, kid.”
Wally’s biting on his lip.
“But you know, I lose track of time. That’s all it is.”
“You’re forgetting to eat,” Wally suggests.
“Well yeah-” he pauses. His eyes widen. His voice rises in pitch, almost like
he’s scared. “Wait, how did you know that?”
But there’s no reason to be. “I had a feeling,” Wally shifts uncomfortably,
crossing his arms across his chest, as if to relieve some stress.
He’s upset. He’s bothered. Barry can tell.
In his uniform, with his cowl pulled back like that, his face tense as he
averts his eyes; Wally’s looking more fragile than usual. He’s missing his
usual confidence, his normal glow that lights up the room. The light inside him
is dim, like he’s out of place, a powerful hero in a suddenly fragile shell.
Barry gives an audible sigh, on purpose. He wants him to hear it. “I’m sorry,”
he says, as he leans forward, clasping his hands together in his lap. “I’ll try
to be more careful, alright?”
But Wally’s not looking at him. Not directly. He’s looking at the floor, at the
walls, towards the front door down the hall, like he’s thinking he should
leave.
“Wally-”
“Do you need me?”
Barry’s heart stops. For a single second, one jump in time. Because that voice
is so small. That voice is so small, and almost frightened. “Do I…” he trails
off, uncertain.
Wally shrugs to himself, his face slowly turning a flushed pink as he finishes
his statement, “If you need me to… helpyou,” he’s still looking away, far, far
away, “I could remind you to eat.”
Barry’s voice is gone; he opens his mouth, but there’s no sound.
“Just to.. youknow, keep an eye on you.”
Barry gives up on speech. Rises to his feet.
Wally looks up at him, appearing more small, more tiny than ever, even as he
says something so strong, something so determined, “I can handle the
responsibility.” He pauses. “I’d like to.”
Before he realizes it, Barry’s giving him a small smile. This kid…
This kid.
“You don’t have to do that for me.”
But the moment Wally parts his lips to reject that idea, with a sudden intake
of breath, Barry sees it coming.
He places a hand on the boy’s arm, and notices how warm it is beneath his
touch. Warm and radiant, just like the rest of him. Just like his soul; his
kind heart. “But thanks, kid. I’d appreciate that.”
When Wally smiles up at him, his eyes finally relax, the stress dissolving in
his face…
Barry starts to feel a warm buzz run through him. A feeling that starts in his
heart and grows and grows, for every second they exchange looks with each
other. Exchanging smiles, mutual kindness and fondness-
The weight inside his heart is lifting. Being around him dulls the pain. Wally
dulls the pain.
“You’re a good kid,” he murmurs. “Such a good kid,” as he pulls him into a
loose embrace, his arms falling around his shoulders as Wally leans into it,
his face pressed against the man’s chest.
Wally’s smiling to himself, allowing a small sigh to escape as he reaches up to
return the gesture, his arms draped around the back of Barry’s waist.
Barry doesn’t know what to do.
Because the warmth is not just warmth anymore; it’s suffocating because it’s
more beautiful than that, it’s something more profound, a sudden overflow of
affection he doesn’t understand.
But he doesn’t fight it. He knows better than to struggle. He’ll let this
moment do whatever it wants. Because it feels so damn good to feel good right
now that he can’t argue against it.
He pulls him closer, choosing to ignore the deeper sigh that escapes from his
nephew. Ignores the sudden want to let his hands trace over his back, to run a
hand through his hair gently, to massage his neck, to hold him firmly against
his body-
A single shake runs through him, but no one questions it. They’re both too
cautious, too afraid. Too afraid to shatter the moment.
I’m just lonely, Barry’s scolding himself.
Wally’s hands pressed against his back, as he can feel him breathing against
his chest.
I’m just lonely.
When they finally separate, and Wally stands up, Barry remembers how tall he’s
getting. How tall, how well-built, how strong. How capable, how confident. He’s
no longer the frightened boy he was just minutes ago. He’s no longer the
anxious, unsteady and hyper kid he met when he started dating Iris…
Iris.
Oh God, Iris…
He forces the thought to the back of his mind, but it fights; it struggles to
come out.
Wally smiles at him as he gives a small shrug, “I should head back.”
He has her kindness.
“Right,” Barry forces a smile.
He has her compassion.
Wally’s still beaming, as he turns towards the door, with a rushed,
“I’llcomebytomorrow.”
Her affection.
He pauses.
Hey, wait a second…
He scolds himself again, quickly responding with a, “Great, thanks,” waving to
Wally just before he vanishes outside.
“You forgot to eat again?” she would always say that. “Stop being so
irresponsible!”
“Why does it matter so much?” he had the nerve to ask her.
“Because we care about you! I care about you.”
He instinctively places his hands over his face, when the pain begins to come
back again. The aching behind his eyes, the sinking feeling, the darkness of
despair from deep inside him, a wound he can’t reach. A wound he can’t heal
fast enough.
“I care about you, too,” that’s what he should’ve said, “Thank you for loving
me.”
But all that came out was, “Well I’m fine, so quit worrying.”
He never let Iris help him. Not nearly enough. He acted too proud. Too
stubborn.
He could still remember the look in her eyes, the way she seemed ready to cry,
as she sat beside him on the couch, staring at him as he slowly, painfully woke
up from the brink of exhaustion.
The same look that was on Wally’s face.
God.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Never.
-
Wally meets up with his team somewhere a few blocks down the road, in a
deserted rural area. He appears beside Dick, with a rustling of leaves that
nearly makes the boy jump out of his skin. It makes him laugh a little.
“What’re we doing out here?” is his greeting.
Dick is sighing, “Sheesh,” as he adds smartly, “Glad to see you showed up.”
“I said it wouldn’t take long,” Wally grins back.
“Yeah, that was thirty minutes ago,” Dick scoffs. “For you, that’s like.. ten
years.”
Wally shakes his head, “Well, it was important,” as he’s examining the scene,
from where they’re perched on the rooftop. “Where’s everyone else-”
“Where’d you go, anyway,” Dick asks point-blank.
Wally almost stumbles over his answer, “N-nowhere.”
Dick stares at him.
Wally tries again, with a nervous grin, “Not… very far?”
Dick stares, and stares.
Luckily, that stare is interrupted by a sudden voice, appearing inside their
heads: Megan. So she found him. Kid Flash, great to see you!
Thanks, he hesitantly responds, hoping to be put to work. Anything, to escape
the scrutinizing look his friend is sending him right now…
He doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed to say where he was. It’s not unusual for
him to spend time with Barry. And considering the recent circumstance, it’s not
odd to say he was concerned. But for some reason, he feels like he did so much
more than to just show up. They did something more than just hang out.
Something was different. Something was not normal.
He knows things aren’t the way they usually are. Barry’s an affectionate
person, but he’s never hugged him, not like he has been. He was never the kind
to get that close to anyone. But Wally understands. He’s grieving. He needs
time. And if his grieving process involves something like that, then…
He doesn’t realize what just happened, until Dick’s staring at him, his jaw
dropping slightly.
Wally frowns back at him, his voice a nervous hiss, “What?”
Dick murmurs quietly, “Stop thinking about your uncle. It’s creepy.”
Wally’s face turns as red as the bolt on his uniform. “O-oh. I…”
“I understand. We get it, really,” he reaches out hesitantly, motioning his
hands in a calm down motion, flattening air, “But can we get to work now?”
Wally tries to clear his throat, and nods, “Y-yeah.”
Megan’s voice in his head again, Okay, awesome. Let’s get to work, guys! Kid
Flash, we need you to…
But his thoughts are wandering to Barry again.
“Wally!” Dick hits him with his elbow.
“S-sorry!”
Embarrassment doesn’t begin to cover this.
He has to tell himself, Stop, even as Megan transmits instructions to him.
Stop.
Dick is watching him silently. Watching. Frowning when Wally has to tell
himself Stop again.
Stop.
Can’t stop thinking about him.
Megan, he finally ventures. I get what you’re telling me. But can we quit the
mind-reading thing?
Dick is asking quietly, “Wally…”
Oh sure, sorry! I’m sorry!
It’s okay, he tells her, even if everyone’s listening, I just need some time
alone right now. You know.. in my head.
I understand.
And then.. silence.
Wally sighs. Tries it out with a thought, to test Dick’s reaction. Thinks of
being in Barry’s house, thinks of Barry collapsing on the floor, with a
sideways glance at his friend.
He doesn’t react; he’s calm as ever.
Thinks of Barry’s heavy, hard-to-move body, as he dragged him across the floor,
trying not to panic.
Still nothing. Dick idly notices something on the ground below, and scoots a
little closer to the edge to glance down.
Thinks of Barry pulling himself onto the couch, energy gone, face disoriented
and flushed. Remembers his fear when he ran to get food, realizing what the
problem was, not even knowing what he should get. Remembers the minutes when he
worried Barry might die, because he’d never seen him appear so weak before.
He’s biting his lip again.
Remembers the feel of Barry’s arms around him.
He shivers.
-
“Okay, so,” Dick is stretching himself out, wincing from the soreness in his
joints after they reconvene at the mountain. “You’ve gotta fill me in.”
“On what?” he feigns some degree of ignorance, as he makes a quick dash around
to make sure everyone’s gone; retreated, as he thought, into the next room.
Hopefully discussing something important, to distract them for a while. Because
he has a feeling Dick’s going to be persistent…
“What happened today?” Dick crosses his arms, his voice laced with sarcasm.
“W-what,” he tries his best to play it cool, even giving a small laugh, “You
said you understood, remember?”
“Yeah, I get most of it,” Dick gives a pause.
Wally feels his temperature rising.
“But that doesn’t explain everything.” He moves in closer, uncomfortably close
as he lowers his volume, “You get me?”
“Like what,” but he doesn’t really want to know. He’s mainly curious to find
out what Dick was able to notice.
“What happened,” Dick is alarmingly to the point.
“When?”
“What happened,” he stresses. He’s whining at him, with a hit to his arm, “Tell
me what happened at Barry’s!”
“Nothing!” he quickly responds; too quickly.
Dick sighs. Taps his foot exaggeratedly.
“Really,” he hates lying to him. But he’s not even sure what he’s covering up
right now.
Dick rolls his eyes.
Silence; a tense silence.
“Dude,” Dick’s whining again, before he starts to list off his observations,
calculating and neutral like he was communicating homework answers, “You were
distracted all night, you kept making mistakes, you couldn’t control your
thoughts,” some emotion sneaks in, a rare show of hurt, “and you’re lying to
me.”
“I’m not lying,” he throws his hands up in the air. “I swear. Not…”
Dick stares.
Wally sighs. “Not a lot.”
“So just a little.”
He hangs his head, “Just a little.”
He doesn’t even know what he’s lying about; not exactly. The elephant in the
room is a dizzying ghost; every time he tries to focus on it, he feels
overwhelmed. He feels the ground slowly rotating beneath his feet.
Remembers the feel of Barry’s arms around him, of being pleasantly wrapped in
his embrace-
“It’s just.. somethingbetweenmeandBarry,” he’s thinking that if he says it
honestly, Dick will be less suspicious.
He’s right. His friend’s expression relaxes.
“He’s going through a lot right now.”
Dick’s voice is more reserved than it’s been for a while, as he nods, “I get
that. But what about you?”
“What about me?” His face is warming up.
“Are you okay?”
He thinks I’m sad.
As he should be. He knows he should be. He should be devastated. He should be
falling apart, just like Barry. He shouldn’t be lost in… whatever confusing
spell of happiness this is. He needs to grieve. Needs to cry some more. Needs
to hate life, hate existing for a few more days.
But he can’t fake a sorrow that’s not there right now.
“I’m okay. I just need to help Barry,” he says.
It’s refreshing to say at least one completely honest truth.
“Okay,” Dick nods again, to close the conversation. “Just lemme know if you..
need anything.”
“Of course,” with a small grin. Wally’s not the type of person that needs a
lot. He’s grown accustomed to not receiving much in the way of comfort, so even
though he appreciates his friend’s offer, he knows he’ll never use it. He has a
way of not really needing anyone.
I need Barry.
His breath catches in his throat.
-
Wally’s often alone whenever he’s at home. He eats a late dinner by himself in
silence, because his parents went to bed before he got in. He reheats some
leftovers from a few hours ago it looks like, pots wrapped in tin foil that had
been written on with a black marker to designate what they were.
He watches his portion sizes. His mom gets irritated when he eats it all, even
if he’s often still hungry when he’s done. He sneaks snacks out of the pantry,
so he can gradually eat away his hunger throughout the night. He’s sure she
notices, but he tries to moderate how many he takes at one time, to keep it
less suspicious.
He’s eating alone, slicing into a piece of lukewarm chicken when his cell phone
vibrates in his pocket. He pauses; checks the screen.
Barry.
His heart accelerates.
He answers it, speaking as calmly as he can, “Hey, it’s Wally.”
“Hi, kid,” the voice is tired, and he can hear the man suppressing a yawn.
It makes him squirm, because he finds it endearing.
“Hi,” he laughs back, quietly so he doesn’t wake his parents.
“Just wanted to let you know, I’m meeting Bats for a meeting tomorrow, so don’t
worry about me. Okay?”
“Is he gonna feed you?” he asks nervously. But he’s exaggerating it to cover an
unpleasant emotion that just stirred up, like a swift kick to the stomach.
“Yeah, totally. You know Mama Alfred.”
It still hurts. “Yeah,” he chuckles, but he has to work at it this time.
“Alright, kid. It’s getting late, so…”
“Yeah,” but he doesn’t want to hang up yet.
“Have a good day at-”
He cuts him off, “CanIcomebyonThursday.”
Barry pauses.
It makes Wally nervous. He didn’t mean to force it like that… He just got
scared and…
But when the man speaks, Wally can hear the smile behind his voice. “Of course.
See you then, kiddo.”
“See ya,” Wally smirks a little, as he finally brings himself to hang up.
For a moment he remains still, clenching his cell in his hands, tightly,
tightly, as he rocks himself back and forth, fidgeting in his seat, too much
nervous energy, so much he doesn’t know what to do with.
Remembering the feel of Barry’s embrace.
What’s happening to me.
-
Some of the buzz wears off.
Thankfully.
He spends the day at school, and then with his team at the mountain. Totally
normal. They hang out while Megan tries to bake cookies for the fourth time,
swearing this time she’s got it right. Wally is quick to sample one of them,
nearly burning his hand in the process. They’re delicious, so he tells her so.
Works some flirting magic and actually gets her to blush this time.
He’s getting another eyeroll from Artemis; he must be doing something right.
Floats around Dick, chats him up about their previous mission. Congratulates
him on a job well done, when he was able to take down the biggest guy all by
himself. Dick says he was only able to do it because Wally was there to
distract him. Wally says he’s unsure if he’s grateful or offended by the
compliment. Dick laughs it off.
Wally laughs, too. Hits him gently in the shoulder.
Someone mentions Roy, says he would have enjoyed that previous mission. Dick
admits that yes, they could have used his arrows to cover them. Artemis says
she could handle it. Kaldur points out that she seemed overwhelmed. A small
spat, but he’s too polite to argue with her. He apologizes for the offense.
Wally suggests that they should try to get him onto the team again. Some of the
others groan and sigh. Dick says it’s probably a lost cause. With some
hesitation, Wally agrees. But he doesn’t know if he fully believes it. He’s
undecided.
The day wears on. The sun sets. The gang decides to watch a movie, some action
flick that Megan was curious about. Kaldur comments that a movie is not very
conducive to their studies, but Dick teases that it works as a team building
exercise.
The evening passes. A lot of laughter, a lot of jokes. Witty commentaries.
Popcorn, drinks, and a nice excuse to unwind.
Wally’s trying not to think about Iris, or Barry. For the most part, he
succeeds. One of the minor characters in the film looks like Barry, so he feels
happier when he sees him on screen. He makes a few giddy jokes about him.
The movie ends. Credits roll. Wally is falling asleep on the couch and Dick is
sitting on his legs because his lanky body was taking up too much room. Artemis
remarks that Wally and Dick look like a couple. For some reason that makes
Wally uncomfortable, but he doesn’t show it. Laughs it off. Dick reasserts that
Wally is his bro. Wally appreciates that in silence, with an amused grin on his
face.
The gang decides to call it a day.
He arrives home, to a quiet house as usual. The distant sound of a tv turned on
in another room.
Tries not to think about Barry, or the show he’s probably watching right now.
Reheats his usual leftovers from the refrigerator. Eats in silence. Tries not
to think about Barry, or the earlier phone call. Tries not to think about
checking in on him.
Leave the man in peace. Let him be. He’s okay.
Finishes off his plate, rinses it off and puts it in the dishwasher. Silently
walks upstairs. Decides he’s ahead enough on homework to not bother with it
tonight. Washes up for bed. Turns on the alarm on his nightstand, and crawls
into the sheets. They’re cold, but they’ll get warmer.
Tries not to think about Barry. Mostly succeeds.
Thinks about the movie instead. Replaces his thoughts of Barry with those of
the man in the movie. A foolish but wise-cracking detective, working a case
with his snarky partner, who was obviously his love interest.
Imagines what it must be like, to be in her shoes. Starts to feel warm, feels
his body respond when he remembers the scene of the man kissing her, the way he
hastily unbuttoned her shirt and proceeded to fool around with her during a
quick montage.
Wants to laugh, remembering the way Kaldur quickly held his hands in front of
Dick’s face, as if to avoid exposing him to the sexual content.
But Wally saw it. Wally saw it all.
The man’s hand on her thigh, another to the back of her neck. Kissing her,
tracing kisses along her sweat-tinged skin, kissing along her collarbone, and
down between her breasts. The way she moaned slightly, moaned as she arched
herself towards him, hands wandering, roaming across his shirt, stroking his
chest, his back, his body-
Wally’s touching himself before he can feel guilty. He’s too exhausted, too
tired to feel guilt. He’ll think about this tomorrow. He can regret it then.
The movie didn’t show them having sex. But he completes the scene in his mind.
His cock hardens beneath his fingers, drops of pre-cum smeared into his hand.
He arches himself up from the bed, the sheets falling across his legs. He pants
into the silent room, pants as he thinks of the man kissing her, thinks of
Barry, thinks of the man kissing her on the mouth, as she opened her lips to
let his tongue inside, thinks of what he must taste like, thinks of what a kiss
from Barry must taste like, thinks of the heat of Barry’s mouth, his tongue,
wants to know how it feels, imagines it as he licks the corners of his lips,
kisses the air, swirls his tongue around an imaginary point of contact.
Buckling against his hand, thrusting into his fingers as he starts to shake the
bed in a low vibration, a rhythm too rapid and subtle for anyone to notice.
Uses his other hand to reach down, to reach down between his legs to cup and
fondle his balls as he’s thinking of the man’s hand on her leg, wonders if his
hands are smooth or calloused, thinks of Barry’s hand on his arm, Barry’s arms
around him, Barry’s arms around him, Barry’s arms around him, the laughter in
his voice on the phone. The man’s tongue inside that woman’s mouth, Barry’s
tongue inside his mouth, Barry’s lips against his own, Barry’s tongue inside
his mouth, Barry’s lips against his-
Barry’s hands on his thighs, Barry’s hands on his legs, as he presses them
apart, Barry’s hands on his legs as he presses them apart, the creative guess
at what he must look like naked, from the detailed musculature he’d often
notice in the Flash uniform. He was jealous as a kid but now he just wants it,
wants to see it, wants to feel it, trace his hands along his skin, admire his
cock between his legs, feel it pressed against his-
Barry’s cock as it pushes inside him, stretching him open for the first time.
Barry’s panting voice, heavy voice as he breathes, sighs, crawls on top of him
as he thrusts inside, thrusts inside, thrusts inside, tracing kisses across his
face, kisses to his lips, kisses to his neck, kisses to his chest, and he
thrusts inside, thrusts inside, thrusts inside, thrusts inside-
Wally comes with a small sob, that he quickly muffles with a hand over his
mouth. He shakes and rattles and feels his legs kick against the mattress as he
feels ejaculate coating his fingers, knows it decorated the sheets, knows it’s
staining the bed-
Oh God.
He’s still shaking, even as he slows down his breathing, even as he calms
himself down, even as he battles against the free and high feeling of orgasm
and the inevitable surge of guilt and regret.
Oh my God.
But he’s too tired to feel guilty.
He lifts the hand away from his mouth; stares at it for a moment. Stares,
closes his eyes and kisses it. Kisses it slowly. Kisses it like a lover, as he
massages his cock again, gentler this time, gentler like he’s showing it
affection.
He’s falling asleep as he rocks against his hand, rocks slowly and gently,
kissing his hand, kissing it as his eyes close, as his body slows down, as he
relaxes.
There’s an ache inside his heart. A painful ache, laced with an infectious sort
of joy. He wants to hate himself but he can’t. Wants to feel guilty but he
can’t. Not yet. Too tired. Need sleep.
For now, there’s only the silence.
And the feeling of Barry’s lips against his.
-
It kicks in the next morning, when he wakes up, crawls out of bed and notices
the stain of cum. He sighs to himself, as he strips the sheets off the
mattress. Gathers them into his arms and runs downstairs quietly, because his
dad’s already off to work and his mom’s probably sleeping in. Throws them into
the machine. Sets the time, hits Start.
Tries to start his day, having a proper breakfast of cereal, even as the self-
hatred is setting in.
He loses his appetite halfway through. He thinks he wants to die, but he
realizes he’s being overdramatic before he can take that seriously.
Sighs to himself. Sighs again, because that first one didn’t help. This one
doesn’t either.
Tries to finish the bowl of cereal. Knows he’ll be hungry later, so he grabs a
few snack bars from the pantry. Hears the washing machine running. Hopes his
mother will be too annoyed by that to ask questions. Not like he’d ever tell
her about this, anyway.
He won’t tell anyone.
The sooner he forgets about it, the better.
He travels back upstairs. Time to get ready to leave. Then to school. Then to
the mountain. Then to…
Oh God-
Then to Barry’s house.
-
Sometimes, when Barry wakes up, he still expects Iris to be there. He forgets
how cold her side of the bed is. Forgets how quiet the room is, without the
sound of her breathing. Forgets how quiet the house is, without the sound of
her rummaging around the kitchen to get her coffee.
When he wakes up he stares across the room in silence, allowing his mind to
dwell in that space where she is still alive, imagining the sounds, the feeling
of knowing she’s there, about to return into the room at any moment.
He stares into the empty doorway.
Feels his soul collapsing, because no one’s there.
Falls back against the sheets.
Wants her to be there. Needs her to be there.
Realizes yet again that she never will be.
His eyes start to burn as he stares at the ceiling, watching the fan above
spin.
Sighs to himself, and closes his eyes.
Doesn’t feel like waking up yet. It’s not worth it.
Ignores the rumbling noise in his stomach.
It’ll pass.
-
Wally goes to Mount Justice. Feels sick the entire time, on the verge of
throwing up. It’s not nausea. It’s just tension. Stress. The fluttering of
butterflies in his stomach. Butterflies that shouldn’t be there.
He’s hearing the briefing from Batman, standing next to his friends and trying
not to cringe too obviously. He can barely focus on what the man is saying. He
can barely think. He can barely breathe.
Because oh God what is he going to say to Barry how is that not going to be
awkward how is he going to look at him What happens if he mentions Iris and
What if he has to admit he’s not mourning her right now like he should be and
Why isn’t he mourning her anyway He needs to cry He needs to be sad because he
is not over it He knows he’s not over it so why-
Dick elbows him in the side.
“Ow,” he flinches and sends him a startled look.
“Focus, Kid Flash,” Batman’s cold voice.
He sends him back a nervous look, “Yes sir.”
Dick’s still staring at him. He gives a small murmur, “We need to talk.”
“Later,” Wally hisses.
“Boys,” Bruce scolds them.
“Yes,” “Sorry,” they both respond at once.
But Wally doesn’t want to talk. He’s too ashamed.
Wally’s hoping that the mission can take his mind off things.
But Bruce’s next words derail his thinking.
“Kid Flash, you’re welcome to sit this one out.”
“What,” his eyes widen.
“Come back tomorrow.”
“But I…”
“I believe that would be best,” Kaldur interjects, with an apologetic look in
Bruce’s direction, “If I may add my opinion.”
Bruce nods in affirmation.
“You are increasingly distracted,” Kaldur adds his insight. “In this state, I
do not trust you to be safe or efficient during the mission.”
Bruce responds firmly, “Aqualad. Well done.”
Wally wants to respond, but he can’t. His throat tenses up. His mouth is dry.
He figures he can go home. He can go home, get a bite to eat. And hurry over to
Barry’s-
And there goes the turning in his stomach again.
-
When Wally arrives home, his mother is sitting at the kitchen table, eating
what appears to be a salad. She glances up when he strolls in, and says,
“You’re back early.”
“Yeah,” he quickly murmurs, before rushing to open the fridge.
He needs to hurry quickly, he needs to get to Barry’s quickly, or he might lose
his nerve.
“I put your sheets back on for you.”
He pauses. Hesitantly, “Thanks,” but he can’t bring himself to look at her.
She’s staring at him.
He can tell. He feels her eyes burning right through him. He’s reaching for the
jar of cherries stashed on the top shelf, but he’s not sure if he wants it
anymore.
“That’s disgusting, you know.”
“Mom,” he sighs.
“I know boys your age do things like that, but,” she sighs audibly; he can hear
her disgust, “I don’t want to see it. Please.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, closing the fridge door. Definitely doesn’t want it
anymore.
“If you need to… take care of your needs, you know-”
“Igetit,” he hurries her along.
“I just don’t want to know about it, when you do.”
“Iknow.”
“That’s all.”
“OkayIgetit.”
“Okay then,” and she goes back to eating.
He lets out a slow, pained sigh as he drifts out of the room.
“Are you leaving already?” he hears her voice call after him.
“Yeah,” he calls back.
“Hanging out with your friends again?”
Oh. That works.
“Yeah,” he lies. “I’ll be back soon,” which may be true.
“Okay, have fun,” but he doesn’t catch all of it, because he’s already running
out the door.
No time to delay. No time to wait.
Barry-
-
Barry answers the door immediately. He looks tired again, but not as exhausted
as earlier. He’s completely conscious. He’s aware, and his eyes are more alert
than they’ve been in days.
He’s smiling, “Hey, kid.”
Wally smiles back, trying to ignore the sudden tension in his chest, “Hey,
Uncle Barry.”
“Come on in,” the man nods towards the house, motioning for him to follow.
Wally’s moving, but he can’t feel it. He doesn’t feel his legs. He barely feels
the ground beneath him. The door closes. The house is silent, and full of
sunlight.
Wally asks the first question that comes to mind, so he can act like he has
purpose. “Did you ea-”
“Sure did,” Barry cuts him off quickly, as he meanders into the living room.
“Little while ago.”
“Oh,” Wally breathes the answer; because there’s a new stress inside him, a
stress that runs up his back and locks him in place.
If Barry already ate, and if Barry is doing fine, then…
Barry’s taking a seat on the couch, as he settles down in front of the tv.
What am I doing here?
“I-I guess I’ll go, then,” he turns back.
“Huh?” Barry asks, his eyebrows raised.
“Y-you know, since you don’t, you don’t reallyneedmyhelp or anything so,” he’s
stumbling over words and it’s humiliating but he’s sure he’s done worse before
anyway.
“What,” Barry’s more perplexed than he was before.
“Well you said I could come over to remind you to eat but you already did so
why am I here right,” he ends it with an attempt at a laugh, but it comes out
as a shiver of embarrassment.
Barry’s rising to his feet.
“So I’m sorry for botheringyouI’llgonowokaysoI’llseeyou-”
“Wally.”
“Uncle Barry?” he bites on his lip.
“Slow down.”
Wally swallows empty air in his throat.
He’s losing it. He’s losing his composure for real. He can feel the heat in his
face. The flush beneath his eyes. His unsteady hands. Shaking.
“I just.. I don’t want to…”
But he can’t speak anymore. Nothing coherent’s coming out.
“Let’s get you something to eat.”
“Huh?” now it’s Wally’s turn to act confused.
“Food. Don’t you want some?” Barry smirks at him. “You’re acting funny. I’ve
got something that’ll cure that.”
Wally nods, but even that seems more difficult.
Everything is more difficult right now.
But then it hits him that Barry is…
Inviting him to stay.
Even if he has no purpose there. Even if he’s not needed. Even if he’s not
necessary. He can stay. Just like normal.
And for some reason that makes him a lot happier than it should.
-
He’s devouring a stack of French toast, as Barry sits at the other end of the
table, looking on quietly. He’s thinking something. Wally knows he’s thinking
something. But he’s scared to know what it is.
Because it’s probably not what he wants him to be thinking about.
Stop it.
He looks at Barry, as the man sends him back a slight smile.
Stop.
“So, you’ve been doing okay?” Wally manages, between a few rushed bites.
“Yep,” Barry nods. He seems relieved that a conversation’s starting. “It’s been
quiet around here, but I’m alright.”
“Quiet, huh?”
“Yeah.” A smirk crawls onto his face, “Apart from a recent addition.”
Wally stares back blankly.
“Come on,” Barry whines, “You’d normally get the joke.”
“O-oh,” Wally laughs nervously. He distracts himself with more eating. But the
food’s almost gone. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” but his voice is more calm than usual.
He can hear Barry’s faint intake of breath, like he’s thinking something.
Something heavier.
It makes him nervous.
“Kid,” Barry suggests, with an unusual stress.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, before promptly sliding the fork back into his mouth.
“Are you doing okay?”
Wally pauses.
No.
“Yeah,” he nods, “I’m fine.”
“I mean, I know… Iris meant a lot to you.”
“Yeah…” he trails off.
“And you know I’m here for you, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” he nods. “I just…”
The last bite. The food’s gone. He stares at the empty plate, and realizes he
doesn’t want to complete that thought.
“Just what?” Barry’s asking, leaning forward slightly as he props his arms
against the table.
“I…” he takes a deep breath, and shakes his head.
Come on. You can trust Barry.
He knows that. But that doesn’t make it less difficult.
“I don’t…” he allows his eyes to wander, because that makes it easier. If he
doesn’t focus on Barry, doesn’t watch the face of the man that loved her, “I
don’t think I’m… sad enough.”
But the response he receives is silence. A thoughtful silence, followed by a
low, “Hmm.”
“I mean I am sad,” he hastily amends it, “I just don’t feel… really down or…”
“I understand.”
He looks at him again, and is surprised by Barry’s eerily, remarkably calm
expression. “You do?”
The man nods. He even gives a small smile, “Everyone reacts… to loss
differently, Wally.”
“I.. see.” He finally sets the fork down, because he’s been gripping it tightly
between his fingers, a bit too tight. So instead he’s idly drumming his hands
against the table’s surface. Taps his foot against one of the legs to relieve
some nervous energy.
Barry chuckles a little, “Don’t feel bad about it.”
How did he know that-
“I wasn’t,” but his blush gives him away.
“It’s okay,” he smiles at him, “It’s completely okay. We both know… that you
loved her very much.”
“Yeah,” one honest thing he can admit, without question.
“So if you feel bad about it, whenever you do, you know…” he pauses, and then
nods, “I’m here, okay buddy?”
He reaches across the table, and places a hand over Wally’s closest one. Grips
it tight.
Wally feels his chest tighten.
“I’m here for you.”
Barry nods one more time, and lets go.
Wally wants to cry all of a sudden.
“I… thanks,” he blinks a few times to hold it back.
Barry’s noticing.
Wally doesn’t speak again, but he averts his eyes, staring out into the next
room.
And suddenly, there it is.
A wave of emotion.
Why-
His face is tensing up.
Why…
He’s reaching a hand towards his face, pressing at the corner of his eyes when
a distorted cry leaves his mouth. He doesn’t bother to question it anymore. But
suddenly he feels awful, completely awful-
He’s shivering and shaking, murmuring incoherent sounds when he hears Barry’s
chair slide back, hears him shuffling over to move beside him. Feels those arms
slide around his shoulders, feels their weight and loves it and that makes him
feel even worse. He’s crying as Barry pulls him closer, arms winding tight
around his back as Wally’s face is pressed against his chest, just like it was
last time. Just like it was before…
He’s starting to figure out why he’s so upset. But none of that helps, either.
He’s a terrible person, for not mourning Iris properly. Because Barry is right
and dammit he did love her and she loved him and he’s an awful nephew for not
crying for her, for crying for himself instead, and his stupid emotions and his
stupid crush and-
Crush.
No, not for Barry-
Please, not for Barry.
Barry’s murmuring a “Shh, it’s okay,” his voice faint and soft.
But he can’t stop crying. Can’t stop, now.
And he says something surprising, something that seems to come from so deep
inside himself, he didn’t even see it. “I loved her.”
Barry’s voice is firm and comforting, like a familiar old room, “I know, kid.”
“It’s not fair,” because none of this is.
“It never is.”
And isn’t that the truth.
-
They’re sitting together on the couch, legs propped on top of the coffee table,
as they share a bowl of popcorn. There’s a show on, and it’s not very good, but
at least it makes Barry laugh.
When Wally stretches himself out, he loses track of space and his leg
accidentally slides and brushes against one of Barry’s. He feels the rush spike
through him, that spark of warmth but he downplays it, acts like it didn’t
happen when he settles back into place and gets comfortable again.
Barry laughs again, quietly.
For a moment in the popcorn bowl, their hands brush together.
Wally’s losing his appetite again. But he’s not sad anymore. He’s feeling oddly
calm, and so comfortable he feels unsteady. He feels unable to trust himself,
and what he might do. Almost feels comfortable enough to crawl into Barry’s
lap, to move the bowl and close the space between them, to lean himself against
him like a cat, to relax and settle against his warm body.
A funny commercial comes on, a man chasing his cat around the house. Wally lets
himself laugh. It feels good.
He glances at Barry, instinctively feeling eyes on him; the man’s smiling back.
They both look away around the same time, but it’s calm now, a natural moment
starting and reaching a peaceful end.
Barry moves the popcorn bowl, setting it down onto the floor.
Wally feels his chest tightening uncomfortably.
Barry shifts position. Intentionally or not—Oh God he can’t tell, no come on
that’d be ridiculous—he moves a little closer.
“You know,” Barry says, his voice a quiet murmur as he settles into the
cushions, leaning back, “This was Iris’ favorite show.”
“Really?” Wally asks, startled by the sudden comment.
“Yeah,” he nods faintly, before he continues, “We’d watch it every Saturday,
when we were dating. No, wait..” He trails off, “Friday. Every Friday night.”
Wally happens to notice that Barry’s eyes soften when he talks about her.
And he doesn’t know why he’s saying it, but…
“She was really special to you, huh.”
Barry looks at him with a question, a frown above his eyes, “Wha… Uh, Yeah.” He
looks back at the screen, as if gathering his thoughts, “I know she was special
to you, too.”
“Yeah,” Wally acknowledges, “But… You can tell.”
“Can tell what?” barely a murmur, his voice is so faint.
Wally stares into the television as well, as both of them are afraid to look at
the other first. He’s trying to suppress his selfish jealously, but he’s no
expert at it, “You really loved her.”
But Barry doesn’t respond. Not immediately.
“You loved her too, Wally.”
Not the answer he was looking for.
So selfish.
He closes his eyes, and lets the conversation die. Chews on his lip in silence.
He doesn’t notice Barry staring at him.
Doesn’t know that Barry’s staring, doesn’t know what Barry’s thinking.
But I love you too, Wally.
-
This time, they’re both laughing.
Barry loves the sound of Wally’s laugh. Loves the way it makes his whole face
light up.
“Hey, Uncle Barry,” Wally is grinning at him, “Can I come over tomorrow.”
“Any time, kid.”
Please.
Wally is the only reason he can laugh nowadays.
“Really?” that hint of a blush. The adorable hint of color that darkens his
freckles and makes his eyes seem brighter.
“Yeah, sure. Stop by whenever you want.”
Because when Wally’s not around, he can’t smile at all.
-
Two weeks have passed. Barry’s staring at the calendar, where he’d taped a
post-it note to the edge.
April 17th. The note read: Funeral. 10:30.
He shouldn’t be reading this. He shouldn’t have to read this.
Our Lady of the Lord, 1200 W. Forest Ave.
He shouldn’t have ever had to read this.
Arrive at 10:00. Ceremony at 10:30.
He’d promised her a lifetime.
How the hell did this happen…
The Flash. The world’s fastest man.
All that power.
Useless.
-
Wally feels alive.
Ambient. Radiant. Hyper. In constant motion.
No mission today, just training. But he doesn’t need one.
He’s light on his feet. More focused than he’s been in days. He laughs when
Kaldur manages to knock him over.
“That was good,” he’s grinning up at him, as he crawls back up. Playfully curls
his hands into fists, “Come on,” as he bounces around.
He hears Dick’s voice from the far corner of the room, “What’s got into him?”
But he’s in too good of a mood to care.
He doesn’t know what happened. Doesn’t need to know what happened.
Because he feels damn good right now and for the first time in days he’s
feeling normal.
“Come on,” he whines at Kaldur, “Hit me.”
And hit him, he does. Wally goes flying.
Hits the ground with another laugh.
He doesn’t fully understand it, but it feels so good.
Everything feels good right now.
-
It doesn’t last. It never does. Not lately.
Wally’s sitting on the couch, watching a movie with his parents. They
ordinarily wouldn’t be awake this late, but it’s a weekend, and this is their
idea of unwinding. It’s not an unpleasant experience. But he’s not enjoying it,
either.
The movie is terrible. It’s a comedy none of them laugh at.
And there’s no Barry beside him, warm and kind Barry, to help him see the humor
in it, to share popcorn and soothe his nerves.
He feels his pulse race, just slightly, when he thinks of him.
So he does it again.
Thinks of his gentle laughter. His voice on the phone-
A vibrating in his pocket.
Yes, like the other night-
Wait.
A vibrating in his pocket?
He rises to his feet, hurrying out of the room as he pulls out his cell and
checks the screen.
Barry.
He smiles to himself, just for a moment before he quickly masks it, in case his
parents turn around. Answers hesitantly, “Hi, it’s me.”
“Wally,” the voice on the other end.
“Yes?” he doesn’t sound good. He sounds awful.
“Can you come over,” he sounds terrible.
“Yeah, of course. Be right there.”
Barry hangs up before Wally can question him.
There’s a knot in his stomach.
He’s addressing his parents, as he waltzes back towards them, “Um…”
“What?” his father’s asking, a frown already on his face.
Wally’s not feeling too brave right now, but if it’s for Barry… “I’m.. gonna
head out for a bit.”
“Head out?” his mother’s frowning as well, as she sits forward, “You just got
in.”
“I know,” his voice is small and almost afraid, but he can’t let it weaken too
far, “But I…’m gonna go.”
“Where,” his father’s heavy voice. Rough and cold.
“A… A friend’s place.”
“Who is it?” His mother’s voice is raising in pitch. “This late-”
“It is late,” his father insists.
“Yeah, but it’skindofimportant,” he shrugs, not knowing what else he can say.
“Wally,” his mother sighs, “Tell Dick or whoever that it’s a bit late, and
you’ll call him tomorrow.”
“I…” No. No way.
“Yeah, it’s.. Christ, 11:30?” his father glances at the clock.
Oh wow. It is. It must be bad. Bad news.
“I have to go,” he insists.
“Why?” his mother asks.
He feels himself shaking, before he can respond.
She stares at him, the frown on her face deepening. Even his father is staring.
Scrutinizing. Studying him too closely.
He can’t stop shaking. His stomach is turning on itself again. His face is
warm. So warm.
Shit shit shit.
Can’t stop shaking.
“Is it a girl?” his mother suddenly interrupts his thoughts.
“What?”
“A girl,” she teases.
“Oh,” his father almost laughs.
“Wh-” he wants to deny it. Needs to deny it. But... But he…
“Who is she?” his mother starts to smile at him.
“You’ve still gotta call her tomorrow,” his father chimes in.
“Absolutely,” his mother reaffirms.
Wally can feel his face burning.
“I… I have to go.”
“Wally,” his father is about to scold him.
“I’m sorry but it’sreallyimportant.”
“Wait a second,” he’s not sure who says it, because he’s leaving by the time he
catches the sound.
But there’s no time. No time for this.
He’ll answer to their anger, their frustrations, their pressure later. He’ll
sort it out some other time. He’ll think about it later tonight. Or tomorrow.
He’ll gather his thoughts then.
There’s no time now.
-
Lights are on inside the house. But Barry’s not answering the door.
“Come on,” Wally’s whispering to himself, trying to bury his concern as he
rings the doorbell, hoping the frayed connection works this time. “Come on.”
A sound echoes inside the house. No response.
“Come on,” he starts to shift his feet around, “Please.”
Tries knocking again.
He chews on his bottom lip.
No response.
He pulls out his phone. Dials the last person that called him, Barry. Feels
like a fool but he believes it’s necessary.
Hears the phone ringing in the dial-tone, the electronic melody playing against
his ear.
“Please,” he whines to himself. Doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to
do. Looks around. No open windows. The door’s surely locked.
For the hell of it, he tugs at the doorknob. Turns. Keeps turning.
The door swings open.
Barry wouldn’t leave the door unlocked. He wouldn’t fail to answer his phone.
Barry. Barry, Oh God, Barry, what-
He dashes inside before he can make himself sick with worry. Needs to know,
needs to find him, needs to see what-
Barry’s laying on the couch, completely still. Breathing slow and shallow.
Wally takes a moment to realize that yes, he’s alive, so he runs back to close
the front door before he forgets. Returns to Barry’s side. Hovers above him,
watches him carefully, checking the rate of his breathing to realize that he’s
asleep.
But to sleep through the doorbell, and the phone…
He’s either exhausted, or sick. Neither option makes Wally very happy. And why
did he call... What does he need…
He sighs, and finds an empty spot beside him on the couch. He sits down and
looks at him. Watches the man in silence. Watches his chest rise and fall.
Sighs again, and pulls his eyes away.
Wants to leave, but can’t.
Because he keeps hearing his voice on the phone.
He sounded so awful.
He wants to touch him. To lean down, and wind his arms around him. To lean
against his chest. To kiss his face and tell him it’s going to be okay,
whatever it is.
It probably won’t.
But he could try to lie, for his sake.
Even if he’d probably fail.
He would still try.
-
Awareness is returning to him. His senses are waking up. He’s starting to feel
things. Hear things. The rhythmic sound of someone breathing. A weight against
his chest, the familiar warmth of someone’s body. A stillness; breathing
shallow and slow, comatose.
Instinctively, he shifts; instinctively slides an arm around that body. His
fingers trail over an arm, slender and soft. A slight reactionary tremble, he
feels the body give a twitch almost, as he traces delicate circles across the
skin. He takes the hint, and flattens his hand against the small of the waist,
smooth and slender, slender and almost delicate. A hand pressing lightly
against the back, he can feel where the spine sticks out slightly, rubs along
its path as the body squirms beneath his touch.
A faint voice, only half-awake, “Barry…”
“Iris.”
A jolt of fear. A sudden panic. A twist in his gut.
The body moves. Crawls up in a clumsy rush. Legs kick against his. Hands
positioned at either side of his body. A face hovers above him, looks down with
wide and beautiful eyes. Round and brilliant green, wide and…
Frightened.
“Wal-” He’s saying it too late. The damage is done. Wally’s stumbling off of
him, traveling across the room. Barry sits up in time to see him heading for
the door.
“Wally,” he calls after him.
He’s gone.
Shit.
“Wally,” he tries again.
No response.
Gets it together. A snap decision. Flies out the door.
Goddammit.
He hurt him. He might’ve really hurt him this time.
Wally.
If I’d have known it was you…
He would have held him closer.
He wouldn’t have let go.
-
Minutes pass. He’s traveled several miles. He has to give up. He has to stop.
Wally is either at the mountain by now, or at his parent’s house. Neither of
those are places where he wants to be. Neither of those are places where he
should be.
He goes home. Nothing better to do, now.
He strolls inside his living room, trying to figure out what he could possibly
say on the phone, if he calls, and Wally actually responds.
And there’s Wally.
Sitting on the couch, staring at him somberly as he approaches. Face flushed
like he’s been crying. And the instant Barry realizes that, he feels like shit.
A downright piece of shit.
“Wally…” he starts, but he doesn’t know where to begin.
“I’m sorry,” the boy mumbles, almost to himself as he rises to his feet, “I was
startled.”
No. Wally…
“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”
He could say so much more than that, but the words aren’t coming. They’re just
piling up in his brain. Because each statement he wants to say would only
reveal secrets he shouldn’t share. Secrets that bring him little else but
shame.
Barry sighs.
There’s more that Wally should be saying, too.
He wants to know where he just ran off to. Why he was laying on his chest. How
long he’d been there. How he felt. How he feels-
But Wally says something he doesn’t expect.
“Why did you call me?”
Barry feels his throat tightening. He’s not ready yet. He’s not ready to go
there.
But it’s either there, or in the dangerous direction of getting an answer to
why Wally was laying against him.
“I’m sorry,” Barry hangs his head, “I overreacted.”
“To what,” his voice a faint whisper.
“I was just feeling down, that’s all,” he tries a faint smile.
When he makes eye contact with Wally, he’s momentarily stunned. Those wide eyes
again, but they’re heavy and dark, like it hurts to keep them open. His mouth
is tense. His lips almost form a straight line. He wants them to soften up.
Needs them to relax. Wants to press his mouth against them and kiss him until
he calms down-
Barry breaks the look; occupies himself by studying the pattern of the tiles on
the floor. “It’s been a rough day.”
When Wally speaks again, he’s faint and distant, like a ghost, “Must’ve been
bad.”
He keeps his voice level, to avoid concerning him, “Yeah. A bit.”
When Barry looks at Wally again, he’s slowly closing his eyes. Opens them again
to stare someplace far away, the same distant look he has whenever he’s feeling
lost for words, or unable to speak his mind.
You could tell me anything.
But he knows Wally wouldn’t believe that.
“Hey,” Barry suggests, “Why don’t we watch a movie or something.”
Wally’s looking at him again.
“I mean, tv’s shit, but… I have a player in my room-”
“Dvd, or Blu-ray,” Wally’s grinning slightly.
It feels remarkably good to see the sadness leaving his face.
“Blue what,” Barry jokes.
Wally laughs softly.
“You kids and your.. technology…”
Wally’s grinning, “It’s the future, Uncle Barry.”
“Future, huh. Just another gadget.” He doesn’t fully mean that. But it keeps
the amused expression on Wally’s face.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” Wally shrugs to himself, a playful grin
lingering on the edge of his lips.
When Barry watches Wally’s face gradually relax, sees the tension fade away, he
starts to feel a familiar warmth in his heart. A warmth he’d like to treasure,
a warmth he’d like to keep for himself.
But that’s just selfish.
He has to look away.
Wally notices his sudden discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything.
-
Barry doesn’t know how this happened.
How it all began, even.
Everything was normal. They were calm. Happy. Minutes drifting by over low
volume in a dark room, light from the screen illuminating their laughing faces.
It was just tv. Just a cable network airing some melodramatic special about a
woman battling Cancer. It wasn’t the same thing. But it was. And wasn’t.
He doesn’t know why he lingered there, when he had control of the remote.
Doesn’t know why he kept it on that channel, to watch the scene of her laying
in the hospital bed, talking to her children. Children he didn’t have. Children
him and Iris would never-
He’s not crying, not anymore. But for the several minutes he was, it was Hell.
Hell. It’s Hell on Earth to cry in front of your nephew. That’s what he’s
learned today.
Especially when your nephew is someone as sympathetic as Wally.
He’d started to tear up too, and it just made him feel worse. Wally should
never cry. Wally is too beautiful to cry. Inside and out. Surface-level and
deep. Wally means too much, he means too much to him, to cry.
Especially when it was his fault. When he was the idiot that left the channel
there. When he was the idiot that called him, that told him to come over, when
he knew he’d been feeling like shit for several hours. He was the one that
called him, when he hit that low. He invited him in.
Invited him, because he knew he’d come. Wally always came. Wally was too good
of a person to not come.
His overwhelming appreciation for Wally makes him feel even worse. He takes
solace in the feel of arms that are not strong enough to hold him up on their
own. Takes comfort in the soothing breath of air across his forehead when the
boy tells him, “It’s okay,” the soothing sensation of a hand running through
his hair, brushing it back. “It’s okay,” his lips brush against his face, as he
turns and settles back in for a shared embrace.
He wants to kiss him. Needs to kiss him so badly.
It’s juvenile, to be thinking that right now, in between the melancholy over
his wife. But it’s not about the kiss. It’s not about lust. He doesn’t even
have to fight it; because he doesn’t want fondling or grinding or sex right
now. He wants a kiss, and more of this warmth, more of this boy’s blind
affection, his remarkably nurturing spirit. He wants to kiss him and sink into
it, kiss him and tell him he loves him, tell him he loves him before sinking
deeper into his arms.
He’s falling in love.
He’s been falling. He’s been falling since before the incident. Been falling
since Wally started spending time alone with him. Since he was able to see more
sides to his personality. Since he learned how to make him laugh, when he
really wants to. Since he started noticing things like, how his laughter lights
up his eyes and how his entire body shakes with boisterous sound when he gets
carried away. His laugh shifts and evolves between a cackle and a boisterous
rumble, and Barry thinks it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
Since Wally was sitting at his kitchen table, smiling at him when he said, “You
know, Uncle Barry… You’re alright,” with a sly grin on his face.
Barry had made a stupid joke, something like, “So that’s what the kids say
nowadays,” and Wally just laughed softly.
Wally’s trailing his fingers through his hair, brushing it back as he continues
to murmur sweet words, kind words so faint he almost doesn’t hear them. His
arms around his shoulders, and he’s surrounded by the warmth of his body, one
of his legs pressed against his thigh, intoxicated by a beautiful feeling that
makes him breathless.
He’s not sure if he imagined it, but there’s a faint contact, like the subtle
pressing of lips against his skin. And Wally gives a small sigh. Pulls him
closer. Holds him like a lover.
Like someone in love, and it’s a stupid little whimsy that gives Barry hope.
It eases away his sadness.
-
When Wally leaves for the night, he instinctively wants to lean in, as if he’s
asking for a kiss; but instead he forces himself to remain still, and smile.
Just smile.
Barry’s crossing his arms over his chest. He smiles back.
Wally says hesitantly, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Barry grins, “Sure, kid.”
Thanks.
“I’ll help you… you know,” he scratches the base of his neck, “I’ll try to…
keepyouhappy. Happier.”
“I appreciate that,” Barry nods at him.
Because I need you to get me through this.
When he hit that low point…
When he hit that low point, roughly two hours ago. Found himself curled on the
floor, dry heaving. Thoughts too disorganized to make sense, so dark he doesn’t
want to remember them, thoughts on death and loneliness and Iris’ face and her
embrace and her kind voice and the accident that killed her and the image of
her in the hospital bed, unconscious but just barely alive, bandages on her
face, bandages wrapped around her arms, dried spots of blood on them-
He looks at Wally one more time, before he leaves. The boy is already turning
away.
“Hey, Wally,” he calls out.
Wally pauses; looks back.
That face. He never gets tired of that face. The way he looks at him. The way
he instantly responds.
“Thank you.”
He can’t explain it; doesn’t want to explain it. But hopes that the statement
means enough, carries enough weight on its own.
Wally is slightly perplexed, but he smiles anyway, a small hint of a blush
spreading beneath his eyes. “Anytime, Barry.”
-
Wally wakes up with a smile on his face. Presses his face against his pillow,
tries to sink further into the sheets. He’s feeling the buzz from last night
lingering, the infectious happiness of being so close to the man he loves-
God, his heart aches just thinking about it.
He feels the tension in his chest, but somehow it’s... a good thing, now. The
pain is becoming something pleasurable. And when he trails his hand across the
sheets and imagines Barry there beside him, his smile grows even more.
And today is a weekend, which means it’s a day off, which means he can spend
several more hours at Barry’s place-
He doesn’t know what will happen. He doesn’t even know what’s happening
anymore. But he can’t keep his hands off him. Can’t keep from reaching out.
Can’t keep from touching, soothing away his sadness.
It’s true, that on some nights he wants sex. When he comes home to an empty
house, and he’s lonely, it’s true that he just wants to be fucked until he
screams.
But it’s also true that he loves the feeling of being beside him, of listening
to his voice, of speaking with him about anything, of sharing lame jokes and
watching tv and bonding over an appetite for food that no one else could
understand.
So he’s smiling to himself, humming the first tune that comes to mind,
something he heard in a commercial yesterday as he puts some clothes on and
waltzes out of his room. He approaches the kitchen, greeting his mother with a,
“Morning,” as she nods back and returns the comment.
There’s something off about her, but he can’t tell entirely what it is. He
moves to the fridge, opens it as he’s reaching the chorus of his song.
“You’re in a good mood,” she says.
He pauses, “Yeah, I guess so.” The less details, the better.
“Things are going well with your girlfriend?”
A chill runs up his spine. But he doesn’t run this time. He pulls the box of
orange juice out of the fridge and closes the door. Travels over to the
cupboard, flipping it open to browse for a glass, “Um…” as he tries to find
words that can’t come fast enough.
“Yes,” she sighs.
“Oh, um,” his fingers hovering over a glass, before he pulls it down, and taps
the cupboard closed with a brush of his hand, “I’mnotseeinganyone.”
“But you’re acting so…” she pauses. “Hmm.”
“What,” he pours himself a drink.
“So it’s just a crush?” she smirks at him.
“Mom,” he sighs.
“Come on, Wally. You’re a hormonal teenage boy.”
He starts trying to tune her out, but of course it’s impossible.
“And I know that you’re gonna like a few people.”
He’s sighing again, as he turns to put the juice back in the fridge.
“But you can’t get too reckless.”
“Reckless?” he pauses, pushing the door shut.
“Yes, like… You can’t just take off in the middle of the night. What time did
you come home last night?”
He clears his throat, “Late.”
“How late?”
“Later than usual,” he shrugs, “But it’s a weekend. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not?”
Silence.
Wally’s the first to break it, “Huh?”
“I think it’s a very big deal.”
“Mom,” he’s groaning more to himself than anything.
“To be honest, I’d be less worried if you said she was your girlfriend. At
least then I’d know what to expect.”
He takes the first sip in silence.
“What exactly are you doing, anyway? You’re almost never home, you’re sneaking
around at late hours…”
“I have friends, Mom.”
“You obviously like someone, so come out with it.”
“Just so you can tell me not to do it,” he grumbles to himself.
Said too much. Foot, meet mouth.
“So it is a girl. Well. Mister Wallace West.”
He sighs.
“Are you having sex?”
“G-god, Mom.”
“Are you?”
“Mom.”
He dreads what he’s about to say next, but he has to say it. Has to. Feels an
obligation to do it.
His voice a regretful murmur, “It’s none of your business.”
But he doesn’t get the response he expected. He gets… silence. And when he
looks at her, she’s glaring right back at him.
“W-well,” she throws her hands up in the air, “Forgive me for being concerned.”
She shakes her head, “Go sleep around or whatever it is that you do! None of my
business.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it?”
He sighs. “I don’t have time for this. I have plans,” as he retreats from the
room, taking his glass with him. He doesn’t want the drink anymore, but it’d
seem too odd to just leave it behind.
He hears her voice from down the hall. “Wallace West!”
“What?” he stops, to listen.
Her voice gets distorted as it travels across the distance between them,
“Wally, if you’re doing something serious.” Her voice is starting to strain,
“You need to involve me. I am your mother.”
He pauses, and presses his forehead against the wall. Takes a deep breath.
“Iris was my mother.”
“What?” her voice a lonesome echo down the hall.
“Nothing,” he calls back.
Nothing important right now, anyway.
-
He doesn’t tell her, before he leaves for the day. Somehow it just makes more
sense that way. Seems normal. It’s not how it should be, but that’s the way it
is.
Who is she, trying to be concerned now. After another long span of paying no
attention to him for months. Of never staying awake to greet him when he comes
home. Of barely saying a word when they’re both in the house. Of complaining
when he eats too much. Of judging and criticizing and supporting his father
when he hits him, and puts him in his place. Of yelling whenever she loses
patience, screaming in his face.
Who is she now, who is this woman, who says she’s worried. And why. For such a
damned stupid reason.
And suddenly, a new thought crashes into his brain.
Maybe if his mother loved him more, he wouldn’t have become so attached to Iris
and Barry.
That’s a load of shit. He knows his mother loves him. When he was a kid, she
used to tell him every night before he went to sleep.
It just would’ve been nice to hear that again sometime, since then.
Iris and Barry…
They’d say it all the time. In their own unique ways. Warm hugs and compliments
and praises and Aunt Iris’ home-baked pies for his birthday, and Barry’s goof
around missions to lift his spirits. Iris’ affectionate voice when she’d hug
him and say something like, “Your poor thing,” whenever she could tell he’d
been fighting with his parents again.
He didn’t tell her about the bruises. They always went away on their own, so he
wouldn’t have to upset her.
He’d told Barry once; only because he asked. Because he knew about Wally’s
healing abilities, because he knew about Wally’s tendency to dodge the truth
about things that hurt him. Hours spent on missions, hours spent with broken
bones and twisted joints and close calls. Barry had even seen him cry a few
times, because the pain hurt so badly before it started to melt away in a
frenzied rush.
Barry had seen a lot of things. More than anyone, in some ways. Barry even knew
secrets he’d never told his friends about. Because they weren’t things he was
proud of; things that made him afraid, the kind of pain that made him afraid of
being alive because it meant he’d get hurt again, things that made him want to
quit the job. And the many days when he was writhing in agony, dealing with
another close-call, in those suspended and awful seconds in time when he almost
died. When he almost told himself, That’s it. I’m done.
But there was Barry, always beside him. Barry, arms around his shoulders,
Barry, helping him stand for the first few seconds when he couldn’t yet walk it
off. Barry, who listened to the story, the real story, when Wally told him
about the times when his father would get drunk and beat him. Barry, who swore
he wouldn’t hurt the man, even if he wanted to, because Wally asked it of him.
Barry had seen him through it. He’d seen him through the worst of things. Him
and Iris both, in different ways. Even if she’d never known half of what Barry
did, she still offered him more love than he ever knew what to do with.
Her kind smile, when he’d complain that he wanted to live here with them,
asking why couldn’t they be his parents. Her smile, when she ruffled up his
hair and kindly said that, “But your parents love you very much,” even if they
were awful at showing it sometimes. Even if they could never show it like she
did.
And just like that. There it is again.
A familiar sadness.
Something that’s lost, that can never be returned.
Iris was my mother.
He lets the thought resonate.
Can’t believe he even said it out loud.
But he wouldn’t ever take it back.
-
He’s not a great cook; Wally, that is. He tries. He’s trying.
When he arrived, Barry answered the door, but he was so exhausted that Wally
decided to do him the favor. He offered to leave so he could sleep in, but as a
response to the man’s drawl of, “Nah, I should get up anyway,” he stayed.
Even if Barry’s currently falling asleep on the couch.
Wally’s not a great cook. He’s hoping he’s not burning these eggs.
Something like this feels too normal. Feels like this is what he should be
doing. Like he shouldn’t have had to come over, because he would’ve woken up
and been here, would’ve woken up, waltzed out of the bedroom, showered and got
dressed and got to cooking them breakfast a few hours ago.
He’s concerned about Barry wanting to sleep in so late, but he says nothing.
Wouldn’t do good to burden him with any worry right now.
Okay, that is definitely a burning smell.
He cringes, and tries to stir them around; only succeeds in making more of a
mess in the pan. He sighs. At this point he’s hoping they’ll at least be
edible.
His phone vibrates in his pocket. Glances up instinctively, looking for Barry;
still on the couch. Then who…
He pauses, lifts the pan off the burner on the oven as he slides his phone out
of his pocket and glances at the screen.
Answers it quickly, “HihangonI’llcallyourightback.” Says it too fast at first.
Has to repeat it, slower. Nods, “Just cooking, but I’m almost done, okay,”
another nod, “bye,” as he sets it down on the counter. Gets back to work.
He feels bad when he realizes he just hung up on Dick. That’s the first time
he’s done that… since ever. Ever.
He sighs to himself. He’s been a horrible friend lately. And come to think of
it, any other day, he’d be spending his free time with him…
But Barry. Barry.
He wants to laugh. It’s almost like Barry’s his boyfriend.
He stops.
The word lingers. It makes his chest tight. His face warm. He blinks a few
times and shakes his head to try to clear his thoughts. Turns off the burner.
Calls out, “They’re done!” to get Barry’s attention. Hears the man stirring, as
he’s pulling plates out of the cupboard, because he knows where they are.
When Barry arrives into the room and greets him with a tired smile, and a,
“Thanks, kid,” Wally feels the suggestion of a blush below his eyes.
And when Barry asks, “You’re cooking for me now? What’s the special occasion,”
with a smirk on his face, Wally nervously shrugs.
“I just wanted to,” he says, his voice hesitant as he’s serving eggs on the
plates.
Barry watches him, increasingly amused before he reaches out, and takes over.
His voice rushed but in a good way, the familiar Flash kind of way, “Let me
handle that.”
“But I was doing okay,” Wally whines, almost taking offense. But he’s really
just playing around.
So is Barry. “Yeah, except I know how much we eat, and you don’t.”
“Yes I do,” he whines through his grin.
“Come on, look,” Barry gestures to the first plate, “Wally, this wouldn’t feed
you for five minutes,” and he points to the other, “And this would feed me for
days,” as he fixes the miscalculation.
“I was.. giving it my best guess?” he shrugs.
Barry smirks, “Too cute,” as he takes the plates and moves to the table.
Wally stays behind; he’s too busy being distracted by what Barry just said.
His heart flutters.
Wally didn’t know his heart could do that before.
-
When he calls Dick, he can hear his annoyance over the phone.
“Dude,” the kid is whining into his ear, “It’s like you’re not even my friend
lately.”
“I’m sorry,” Wally’s whining back, his voice showing a bit of his sympathy. He
does feel remorse. Really, he does. “I’ve just been busy…”
“I know, Barry. It’s always Barry,” an annoyed hiss.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he idly starts to pace around the yard, the
sound of leaves crunching beneath the feet. Helps to burn off some of his
stress.
“You’re always over there. And then you’re here, thinking about him. And then
you’re over there again,” he sounds painfully exasperated, “It’s like you’re
his wife or something.”
Wally stops in motion.
“I mean, I’d understand if it was some girl you were dating,” Dick whines, “But
he’s your Uncle and it’s kind of creepy.”
“Don’t call him creepy,” Wally grumbles.
“I’m not,” he can practically hear him pouting, “I’m calling you creepy.”
“Ha, very nice of you,” Wally half-laughs. But it hurts him, in a way he can’t
fully understand. It hits a sensitive spot.
Because there’s nothing creepy about his affection. Nothing creepy about the
warmth he feels when they’re together. Nothing creepy about what’s going on
between them.
Oh God, something is going between them, isn’t it. Something is-
“And you fell silent,” Dick whines.
“Oh-sorry. I’m sorry,” Wally catches himself.
“Geez,” Dick scolds him. “It’s okay. Just don’t forget about me, okay?”
“What do you mean,” but he knows the answer already.
“Don’t forget about me,” he can hear him pouting. “You’re my bro,” his voice
tiny.
“I know,” he gives a small laugh, “We’ll catch up soon, okay? I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dick grumbles back. “As long as you’re okay..”
“Oh yeah, totally,” he says it a little too quickly. He forces himself to slow
down, “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure,” Dick says skeptically.
“Totally,” he looks up, to the sound of the door sliding open.
Barry.
Dick says something, but Wally doesn’t catch it. He nonchalantly asks, “What
was that,” although he has to struggle to listen for it again, an annoyed,
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” as he keeps his eyes on Barry, watching the man approach him
hesitantly, as if afraid to disrupt his call. Barry’s waving to him as a small
joke, as he keeps his eyes on him, and Wally keeps looking at him, Barry’s
looking at him, Wally’s looking at him and-
Wally pauses; “Hold on a sec,” as he pulls the phone away from his face, and
asks softly, “Yeah?”
Barry’s words are almost lost in his smile, relaxed as it is. He says politely,
“Your mother called.”
Wally almost winces, but he manages a quick and faint, “Thanks,” before he
pulls his phone back up to his face. “Okay, sorry,” he says into the phone.
“It was Barry again, wasn’t it?” Dick’s voice is low.
“Uh..” he forces himself to tear his eyes away from the man, as Barry retreats
back inside the house. “Mayb- Yeah. Why?”
“Ugh,” Dick groans.
“Sorry?”
“Forget it.”
“Dick-”
“Just go and do your wife thing. I’ll be waiting for my friend to come back.”
“Dick, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. At this point,” his voice trails off, like he’s joking. But Wally
knows better. “Why don’t you just live there? Then you’d never have to leave.”
Silence.
Dick hung up on him.
Dick hung up on him.
Dick hung up on him.
-
The phone call wasn’t so bad. Not the one with his mother.
She wanted to know where he was. He told her. She said the familiar comment
about him “bothering Uncle Barry;” he told her that it was okay. She didn’t buy
that, but she said she’d speak to him about it later. Fair enough.
He’s approaching that conversation with some dread, but for now…
It’s okay.
His best friend in the world is pissed at him, and his mother is on edge. But
he’s okay. He wants to know exactly what their perspective is. What they see
from this situation, that he either doesn’t, or wouldn’t want to show them. But
he’s too scared to ask.
Because then the actual truth might come out.
The truth, that he’s been fondly staring at Barry, on and off for several
minutes now. And the truth that, even as the man flips through channels, he’s
sending glances over to him, with a calm smile on his face.
Barry calls over to him, “Come here,” with a wave of a hand, almost like a
beckoning.
Wally grins a little, shuffles over almost shyly, taking a seat on the couch
beside him. Sits down with a half-sigh, because he’s increasingly floaty and
giddy in his presence and it’s getting difficult to act neutral. It’s difficult
to act like his heart isn’t racing, like he isn’t hyper-aware of everything
Barry is doing, from the rhythm of his breathing to the rate at which he
changes channels, purposely slowing himself down so that the device can keep up
with him.
Every time Barry shifts one of his legs; when he shifts his body slightly, and
the cushion bends underneath them.
Barry asks in a quiet voice, “Are you okay?”
Wally shrugs, trying to keep his smile from spreading, “Yeah, why?”
“Your mom sounded…”
“I know,” Wally groans. “We’ve been… having issues lately.”
“Anything I can help with?” Barry leans towards him slightly, needlessly
closing some of the space between them. Wally knows he’s trying to seem more
sympathetic, but it just distracts him from answering. Because the closer he
gets, the more handsome his face is. With his soft eyes and his kind mouth.
Smooth skin and blond hair that shines-
Wally frowns to himself, “Nah, I think it’s okay. We’ll get through it.” He
clasps his hands together in his lap, “We always do… somehow,” with a small
laugh.
But he forgot to give it sound, so Barry’s looking at him now with some
concern. He studies Wally’s expression and it makes him nervous.
Barry doesn’t give his usual, “Alright, kid,” to let it go. Instead he says,
glancing away to the television, as if remembering it’s there, “I think you
should go home.”
“Huh?” Wally feels the jolt run through him.
“It’s probably best if you go… you know, sort things out over there.”
“But I like being here,” he says it before he can control it. Impulsive,
instinctive, defensive.
“And I like you being here,” Barry glances back at him with a smile. “But she’s
your mother, kid, and you’ve only got one.”
“I don’t know.” He never knew what to say, when someone made a comment like
that. And he especially doesn’t know what to say to Barry, since he should know
better. He knows how much Iris loved him. He knows how often she was there for
him. He knows how often him and her had to fill in for the parents that weren’t
there.
Barry doesn’t respond to that, not directly. Instead he gives a shrug, and
says, “But if you want to stay…” almost with relief, “I won’t force you.”
Wally smiles at him; there’s still a weight in his mind, but he needs to
express gratitude somehow.
“But you’ve gotta deal with that, okay?” Barry stresses, “Don’t let your other
relationships fall apart.”
Wally shouldn’t linger on the word relationships. But he does. Because what him
and Barry have is-
He nods, “I won’t.”
He’ll fix them.. somehow. He’ll make it right. Somehow.
Barry relaxes somewhat, as he sinks into the couch and slides an arm around the
edge. Wally leans back, and feels it brush against his neck. He feels a tremble
run through him, a familiar jitter of the nerves as he pushes his luck a
little, and slides just a little bit closer to Barry.
It’s not entirely comfortable, so Barry repositions his arm, and slides it
around his shoulders.
Wally’s sure his face is showing everything right now, from his blush to his
nervousness, but he bites his lip and leans against him. Wally’s face pressed
against his chest, as he settles in with an escaped sigh. Barry’s hand resting
against his shoulder, fingers tracing small circles over it.
For a moment, Barry turns towards him, his chin resting against Wally’s
forehead, feeling the soft brush of hair against his lips. But he’s too
hesitant to seize the moment, to kiss him like he wants.
So instead he sighs, and turns back to the television. Pulls him closer.
Wally slides an arm around his back, pleasantly trapping it between the warmth
of Barry’s body and the couch. He closes his eyes. Even if Barry can’t feel it
through the fabric of his shirt, presses a kiss against his chest.
But he does.
He hears the soft sound, the faint open and close of lips pursing against him.
Wally.
He seizes the boy’s shoulder more assertively, trying to calm his speeding
heart, before it thunders out of his chest.
Barry turns towards him again, peers down at the agile and almost delicate body
sinking against him. Notices his hips, his legs as they drift off the couch’s
edge. Feels him breathe against him, deep and slow, watches his entire body
shift and move as he tries to get more comfortable.
Wally.
He pulls back slightly, and presses a small kiss to the side of his face.
Wally’s too afraid to look at him; too afraid to acknowledge that the soft
contact he just felt was real. So he keeps his eyes closed. Keeps them closed,
as Barry kisses him again, just below his eye. With a halted breath, almost a
shared gasp between them, he raises a hand to trail a line along his cheek,
traces across it softly as he kisses it again.
Wally’s leaning into the touch, tilting forward as Barry continues to trail
kisses over his skin, soft and slow, delicate and fragile kisses that travel
from his eyes to his ear to his chin, to-
Against his lips, a cautious touch. Cautious and with a faint pressure, like
he’s afraid.
Wally feels a familiar shiver run through him.
When those lips touch his again, he moves slightly, ever so slightly, to kiss
him back.
Barry’s hands at the side of his face, touching, feeling, savoring the feel of
his warm skin they continue their kiss, a slow and steady pressure as Wally
sighs against it, and Barry takes the moment to move it just a little deeper.
One of his hands relocating to the boy’s hair, fingers winding themselves into
locks and strands as he continues his attention, his affection against his
mouth, tongue sliding gently between his lips as Wally shakes against him, and
parts his accordingly.
Barry’s losing his composure. He’s losing it fast.
More aggressively now, he pushes his tongue in deeper, almost wanting to moan
at the taste of Wally’s mouth, the erotic sensation of what he’s doing to him
as Wally gasps against him, his own tongue starting to move and press against
his. A firm hand to the back of his head, Barry holds him still as he moves in
deeper, tilting his face to get a better angle to explore inside, to taste his
mouth and his spit and his hot breath. Wally’s growing weak; he can feel him
relax against him, as he licks and caresses freely, aimlessly, shivering when
their tongues start to massage each other.
He’s whining now, almost whining from deep inside his throat as he grows
increasingly desperate, sliding his arms around Barry’s back and moving his
body forward, like he wants to be closer. To be closer, he’s arching his hips
towards him as Barry continues to assault his mouth, lessening the deepness of
the kiss only to pull back and lick along the corners of his lips, to kiss and
chew on them as Wally sighs. Or is it a whine-
Barry savors a final taste of them, before applying a more chaste kiss, one for
sentimental value, one he holds for an extraordinarily long amount of time,
allowing it to fade naturally before he pulls back.
Looks up at Wally, his face flushed and disoriented. And Wally looks back at
him, eyes hazy and lips slightly parted as he breathes deeply from arousal.
Barry can’t take it anymore.
He runs his hands across Wally’s shoulders, one more time. Allows his eyes to
fall, studies his body, his rising and falling chest, his slender waist, his
tight muscles, and the vague impression of an erection in his jeans-
He sighs to himself. Murmurs an, “I’m sorry, Wally,” and hangs his head as he
detaches himself from him, forces himself to let go, rises to his feet and
leaves the room.
Wally’s stares after him with an expression that’s lost somewhere between
devastation and affection.
But he’s a bit happy, too.
Because-
As much as he needs Barry, as much as he wants Barry, craves his touch-
He wants to believe the feeling is mutual.
He wants to believe in something beautiful.
-
What Wally doesn’t know, is that Barry’s locked in the bathroom, leaning over
the sink. Resting his weight on his elbows and he's running his hands over his
face, he wants to sigh but somehow that won’t work. Not enough release.
There’s no release, for this. Except the one thing he doesn’t want to do. The
territory too dangerous to tread.
Because Wally is his nephew. Wally is a teenage boy. Wally is male. There’s
more than enough reason to shut this down before it starts. To retreat and deny
himself the pleasure of touching someone that clearly wants to be touched by
him, that leans into his contact, that thrives on every moment-
Wally is his nephew. Wally is a teenage boy.
What would Iris say, if she knew about this?
Shit, don’t think about Iris.
She knew about his attraction to the boy. He hadn’t told her; she noticed. She
noticed they were close, noticed he’d watch him for more than was appropriate,
walked in more than once when he’d rush back home after a mission, to promptly
masturbate. She knew he was hiding an awful desire from her, and when she
guessed it was about Wally, he’d been too startled and scared to outright deny
it.
“But I love you,” he’d told her, “I love you so much, I won’t do anything,
promise I won’t.”
She’d been too disgusted to even cry, so instead she just frowned and shook her
head. Told him to forget about it, justifying, “These things happen,” even as
he could see the gradual increase of horror in her eyes. That buried sadness, a
fear of her own.
A fear that the man she loved was a pedophile. A fear that the man she loved
would indulge in incest.
She’d never viewed Wally as a serious threat. She never viewed their dynamic as
being a viable couple, or a competition against what her and Barry had. She
never saw Wally as a potential partner, never saw him as wanting to claim
Barry’s attention in any way except as a mentor.
So when she’d stared at Barry with disgust, he knew she blamed him entirely.
She viewed it as his problem, murmuring a faint, “Don’t ever tell Wally.” Barry
had pressed his hands over her shoulders, but she stepped back, his fingers
left grasping air.
Her and Wally were close. Barry knew that. Him and Wally were close. But he’d
never felt a need to choose between one or the other. In a perfect world he
might have, because then Wally would have been available to him. But he was
never an option.
Barry had always known he loved Iris.
But that didn’t stop him from wanting to touch Wally, to kiss Wally, to hold
Wally, from finding excuses to reach out and make contact. Ruffling his hair, a
slight pat on the shoulder, a loose hug around his back. Wally’s body was warm
and pleasant and for the longest time, that was all he needed.
He never imagined he’d let this happen. Never imagine he’d lose control like
this.
He was an awful man and an even worse husband for it, but it was easier to deal
with before. Because when he’d come home from a mission, feeling that usual
high, the need to bend Wally over and take him right then and there, he’d come
home to a wife that understood, appalled as she was. She wanted to help him
control his urges. She wanted to keep her husband sane.
So she’d lay down on the bed, and pretend as best she could. Would moan, “Uncle
Barry,” as he penetrated her, “Uncle Barry,” as he took her from behind, while
she obscured her face against the pillow.
Sometimes he would hurt her. Because sometimes he’d get carried away. His lust
would consume him. His drive would compel him to thrust too hard, to move too
fast, to treat her like he’d be able to treat Wally, with his strong body and
his healing speed-
Barry hated himself, on those nights. Hated everything about being alive.
But then he’d go on another mission, The Flash and Kid Flash. And he’d feel
such a joy from being around Wally, from doing work that came naturally to him,
of running freely and taking on powerful enemies that he’d forget about his
hate, he’d forget about his resentment, and would lose himself in that lighter
state of being.
Then he’d come home, wanting to fuck Wally. And it’d all begin again.
It was especially bad for a period of a few weeks. Wally had a new habit of
changing around him, until Barry found an excuse to make him stop. A small
tease, “You should be more modest,” which wasn’t entirely fair. There was no
one more humble, more shy than Wally, no one he knew. But his indirect praise
made the boy excessively uncomfortable, especially when he complimented him
more than once; and the changing ceased. Wally was back to being discreet.
Barry’s staring at himself in the mirror, wondering how he’s managed to live
with himself all these years.
But more than that, he’s wondering where to go from here. His desire to fuck
Wally has not changed since he left the room. His guilt over Iris, of using and
manipulating her love for him is starting to slip away.
“I love you more than I could ever tell you,” he’d said to her casket, when
they lowered it into the ground. And he did. Honestly, truthfully,
exceptionally, powerfully, he did. When he said his vows at the wedding, “I am
so happy to be with you,” he meant it.
But now she’s gone. And Wally is still here. His decision is not easy anymore.
There’s no right path to take. Nowhere to hide. No one, no lover to bury his
sorrows and ease his craving.
No one but the beautiful boy in the next room, flushed and overwhelmed with
desire-
“Ugh,” he groans to himself, leaning back against the wall. Glances over to
make sure the door is locked. Moves down and sits on the floor. Spreads his
legs, and unzips his fly.
There’s no affection in the way he touches himself. Not today. He’s not trying
to enjoy it; he’s only looking for release. To ease the throbbing in his groin,
the swell of his dick so he can walk back into that room without clearly
revealing his intentions. His wants and needs-
No, not needs. He’s a grown man. He’ll get through this on his own.
But when he quickly, hurriedly, furiously comes into his hand, it’s not
pleasure he feels. It’s a more unique breed of…
Regret.
There was no daydream this time. No beautiful delusion. No fantasy, no image of
Wally in his mind. Only his hand, his aggressive fingers, only the physical
sensation.
As he reaches over, pulls off a few sheets of toilet paper to clean himself up,
he’s feeling more of an emptiness than anything.
Because no matter how horrible he feels, this should have been a moment with
Wally. They should do things like this together. To comfortably express their
fondness for each other, comfortably and sensually and beautifully in the way
that only lovers can.
The thought disturbs him; he’s troubled at how easily he was able to justify
it.
He wants to make Wally happy. He wants to make himself happy. He wants them to
kiss and touch each other and laugh quietly and whisper sweet murmurings and
exchange declarations of love; he wants to guide Wally’s hands and show him
what pleasure feels like, to touch him gently and then rough as he needs, to
show him what it feels like when your partner loves you, adores you, wants you,
craves you. Craves your touch, your kiss, your love, everything you so freely
give, that will be returned effortlessly, infinitely.
And there it is. He feels his cock twitching again; swelling right back up.
And when he strokes himself this time, he rocks against his hand with a small
groan, a sound he quickly hushes when he recalls that Wally is in the next
room. Wally, face flushed, Wally, eyes closed, Wally, his eager tongue meeting
his, a kiss that was a declaration of love, of need, of lust.
The feel of his skin beneath his roaming hands; the soft locks of his hair. The
slow arching of his body as he tried to move forward.
He wants to go back into that room. Wants to take him right now. Wants to fuck
him into that couch, wants to fuck him so blissfully and beautifully and with
so much affection that he shivers and shakes against him, wants to hear gasps
and moans spill from his lips, his arms around him, fingers clawing at his
shoulders, legs hooked around his waist as he thrusts, and thrusts-
The beauty beneath him; he will thrust, and thrust-
And when Wally loses control and comes, Barry will kiss him all the way through
it, kiss his lips, his face, he will hold him and soothe him and linger in the
sound of Wally’s gasp of pleasure. And he will thrust, and thrust, but slower,
gentler, slower, dwelling more on Wally’s orgasmic high than what he feels.
He’ll kiss him gently, kiss his soft lips as Wally trails his fingers to his
neck, strokes the sides of his face, and when their kiss breaks, Wally will
kiss the corner of his lips, kiss him with affection, with adoration, with a
profound sentimentality-
Because Wally is that kind of person. He’s the kind of person that can orgasm
and show you how much he loves you, in a fraction of seamless time. His kisses,
his touch, his whisperings. His awkward phrases, his words clumsy and honest.
Barry will kiss him again, when he comes; he’ll kiss him, and bury his face
against his neck, moaning a deep and low, “Wally,” as a final gift, the final
declaration to express a fraction of what he feels.
Wally.
My lover, my-
Barry’s shaking as he comes again, shaking because his cock feels sore and raw,
but his mind is delirious and light and his vision is full of dancing stars.
He’s breathing heavy, he’s worn-out but he’s calm, more calm than he should be.
He’s contented. He’s at ease.
When he stands up and dabs himself dry, and zips up he’s trying not to focus on
the guilt.
Because he’s not in the mood for it anymore.
Not now. Not right now.
Because right now, there’s a boy in the next room, a boy he’s crazy about, who
eagerly wants to spend time with him.
And he’d sooner die than disappoint him.
-
But when Barry returns to the room, he’s not greeted by the sight he expects.
There’s no Wally on the couch, calmly watching tv, waiting for him to get back.
No, Wally is perched on a small kickstand ladder, leaning forward and reaching
across a shelf with a paper towel, making small sounds to himself as if he’s
annoyed by the process.
It takes Barry a second to realize that Wally is cleaning.
“Wally?” he asks curiously, startling him.
Wally turns back with some initial alarm, but it fades quickly when he sends a
nervous smile back, “Barry?”
“What are you…”
“Dusting?” he blinks in question.
Barry laughs a little. “Why?” as he comes closer, to get a better look. It’s
around now that he notices some of his books on the floor, where Wally must
have relocated them.
“I don’t know,” he sighs back, but it’s more a sigh from tiredness than
frustration, “I just noticed it was dusty up here and this place looks like it
hasn’t been cleaned for weeks so-”
“I got it-”
“-Ifigured I’d giveitatry,” he finishes.
Barry nods at him. “I see.” He’s still amused, but he knows Wally’s hiding
something. He can tell when he’s hiding stress. But that’s exactly why he can’t
ask about it. He knows better than to push him, or Wally might withdraw
completely. Wally will obscure it even further inside himself. So he remains as
calm as he can, hoping that it’ll work itself out naturally. “Well, thank you,”
he grins at him. “But you don’t need to do that.”
“I know,” Wally sheepishly smiles back, “Should only take a few minutes.” And
after a calm silence between them, he turns and gets back to work.
Barry takes the cue to wander on; it’s about time they ate again, anyway.
Wally’s bound to be hungry any minute now.
As if on cue, he hears the boy’s stomach rumble, a sudden jolt like thunder.
Wally cringes.
Barry laughs warmly, “I’ll get right on that.”
-
Wally insists on cleaning the kitchen. Barry insisted he didn’t have to, but
Wally rushed in and got to work.
He’s still distracting himself from something. He’s tense. But Barry knows
better than to push him, so he doesn’t. He waits. He must wait.
Because he doesn’t know what to say about it yet, either.
Wally’s a blur moving around him; if he focuses, he can see everything he does.
He’s being meticulous. Cleaning the grooves of the cabinets, scrubbing at the
grout between the tiles on the wall, wiping the counter of any crumbs and
examining it closely. Painfully close, like it’d kill him to leave anything on
there.
Barry finds it fascinating. He never knew, never realized he was prone to
behavior like this.
The awareness of something he doesn’t know about Wally is somewhat shocking. It
causes him more alarm than it should. More concern than is reasonable.
He stands up from where he’s sitting at the table. Meanders into the kitchen
area, and even though Wally slows a tad to get an idea of what he’s doing, he
doesn’t stop. Scrubbing at the walls, cleaning the faucet, the edges of the
sink-
Barry slides behind him, and slides firm arms around his waist.
Wally comes to a standstill. He shivers in a release of tension as he starts to
relax, setting down the wet paper towel onto the counter. He sinks back into
his embrace as the man leans down and kisses the side of his face. Wally sighs
pleasantly, squirming from some want, some undefined need as Barry allows his
hands to roam, sliding from his waist across and up his chest. Smooth and
defined with the subtle curves of tight muscle, the fabric thin beneath his
touch. He feels Wally tense and shake when his fingers brush across his
nipples, and he pauses to rub against one of them, in small circles as the boy
writhes in his arms. Another sigh escapes.
Wally’s starting to move against him, leaning his hips back against Barry’s
gradually warming groin. Barry has to resist the urge to moan as he feels his
cock springing to life, feels it pressed against his ass, knows it wants to
explore, wants to indulge and push inside-
He kisses Wally’s face again. Keeps one hand firm on his chest, tracing those
rhythmic circles as the other hand travels, down to the crotch of Wally’s
pants. Feels him shake again, a gasp trapped in his throat as he grinds his
teeth against it. His fingers press over where the hint of his erection is,
press gently over where his cock is swelling and growing, pushing against the
denim of his jeans-
He kisses his face again, and then his neck. Murmurs a, “Wally, forgive me,” as
his hand starts to stroke him through the material, up and down the stiff
member as Wally is arching his hips forward, whining softly. Up and down, he
pauses to press his fingers as far around it as he can, grasping a width that’s
larger than he imagined, protruding to where he can almost make out its shape.
He can’t take it anymore. He can’t-
Pressing a series of kisses against his neck, one after another, not even
pulling back as he hastily unbuttons and zips open his fly. His tongue tasting
his skin, the hot flesh where his shoulder meets his neck, as his fingers drift
across Wally’s swollen cock, lightly tap against the head as the boy moans
against him, rocking forward as Barry feels that spot on his boxers grow wet
and damp from pre-cum. Through the thin material he explores him with his
fingers, tracing along the grooves and noticing the firmness of just how hard
he is—Oh God how is this happening—getting an idea of the texture, of the heat
radiating from him, as Wally starts to murmur incoherent noises, a sigh that
becomes a moan that becomes another sigh.
Another touch at the head of his cock, as he presses around it and squeezes
gently; Wally gasps out loud.
That sound; it does something to him.
Oh God why is this happening, what am I doing-
He pauses; he keeps one of his hands roaming across Wally’s body, continuing to
stroke his chest, but with the other he gets more ambitious. Pulling back the
elastic band of his boxers with his fingers, as he slips his hand inside.
Wally immediately bucks against the contact; a startled outcry as Barry chews
against his neck, bites into his skin to suppress a moan of his own as he feels
his naked skin against his hand, the rough and warm flesh of his groin, freshly
shaven—God he didn’t even know he shaved down there—feels the warm and
sensitive cock brush against his fingers. Fresh drops of Wally’s sticky cum as
he smoothes them across the head, teases where his foreskin wraps around,
teasingly tugs it back as he feels him tremble. Wally’s starting to writhe like
it aches, as Barry continues to explore him, stroking along his length, noting
the feel of how hot his skin is, how soft, how eagerly his cock continues to
swell and throb against his touch.
Wally’s starting to whine, and Barry feels- he feels like-
This is not enough.
He has to detach himself from Wally. Has to remove his hand. Has to cease his
touch.
But only for a moment; a fraction in time that’s only significant because it’s
them, and every fragment of a second matters. In that span of time, Wally’s
suspended between disappointment and fear. His eyes grow wide as he panics.
Stares at him like something is broken inside.
But when he kneels in front of him, knees against the kitchen tile as he tugs
at the edge of his boxers and slides them down that expression quickly changes.
It changes into something he recognizes. Flushed, overheated and anxious; lust.
Wally leans back against the counter, leaning his weight against his arms when
he stifles a gasp, a gasp that turns into a whimper when Barry leans forward
and licks at the head of his cock. He presses the tip of his tongue against it,
teasingly as if to sample its taste, to gauge Wally’s reaction, to look for
encouragement to continue. But Wally can’t even look at him. His eyes are
closed, his jaw is slack as he pants in silence; Barry starts to caress along
the shaft, trailing licks and a kiss to the head as he pauses to re-evaluate
the situation.
More pre-cum. God, Wally is either very excited, or-
Who is he kidding. He knows he’s excited. He’s aroused enough to fuck someone.
He takes the entirety of his cock into his mouth, teeth trailing gently across
his foreskin as Wally shudders, and starts to whine to himself. He arches his
hips forward, and for the first time Barry notices how beautiful they are, how
smooth, how fair, how delicate with his bones vaguely protruding through, and
the faint hint of freckles along his upper thighs. He wants to touch them, lick
them, kiss them; but right now there’s a more urgent need keeping his
attention.
So he starts to suck on him, an erotic and almost disgusting sound coming from
his mouth, as he aggressively strokes his tongue across his cock and sucks,
sucks in as far as he can, and focuses on the sound of Wally’s breathy gasps
for air. Releases the pressure, pulls back and kisses the head, bathes it with
licks and caresses like a kiss he’d give his lover—His lover, Wally, wait
no—before he invites it back between his lips, massaging the length with his
mouth, sucking as he takes it further inside—Wally is not my lover, he can’t
be—reaching up a hand to slide underneath, brushing against his balls and
caressing them in a flirting tease before he starts to massage more firmly,
more firmly as he swirls his tongue around in circles, swirls and sucks again,
to the tune of another moan, a deep one this time that echoes in his ears like
a song.
Wally-
Pulls back again, another kiss like a lover, trailing licks along the shaft
with his spit as he chews gently along the way, and Wally’s trembling, shaking,
shaking-
Wally is my lover, isn’t he-
Takes the entire length back into his mouth. Sucks and chews gently and licks
and caresses his cock; fondles his balls, sliding his fingers in circles around
them, between them, grasping them, stroking them. Sucks and kisses and licks
until Wally starts to pant more loudly, a hesitant and nervous hand
coordinating with a spike in the pitch of his Ah outcry as Wally winds his
fingers into his hair, Ah, as he shakes, Ah, as Barry kisses the head again,
trails licks and gentle bites and kisses along the shaft, tugs back the
foreskin and slides his tongue along the edge, Ah, as Wally pushes forward
against him, Ah, slower now, slower as Barry speeds up, sucking him, sucking
and kissing and licking and-
“A-ah,” Wally gives a low and pleasured sigh, as Barry feels spurts of hot
ejaculate hit against the back of his mouth. Against his tongue, and down his
throat, warm and hot, he swallows slowly as his lover’s body continues to
shake, he continues to tremble against him, sighing and breathing deeply as he
empties himself. Breathing heavy, he’s panting and leaning back as he finishes,
moaning again as his orgasm comes to an end, leaving him disoriented.
Barry kisses the head of his cock one more time, sweetly this time, before he
pulls back and looks up at him. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. A
reaction. Pleasure. Reassurance, that he didn’t just fuck everything up between
them.
When Wally looks down, his face is so at ease, so relaxed, so flushed that it
brings a hesitant, but genuine smile to Barry’s lips.
Wally brings a hand to his face, and traces along his jaw affectionately,
kindly, as he seems to want to speak, but can’t. He opens his mouth as if to
try, but all that comes out is a nervous laugh.
Barry gently tucks Wally’s member back inside his boxers, sliding them back up
to where they were. He playfully presses another kiss to his cock through his
fabric, as he hears Wally chuckle quietly, before he tugs at his jeans and zips
and buttons them closed.
He stands back up, and Wally’s finally asking, “Did you… need to…” with a
nervous look to the man’s groin. Barry grins sheepishly, “No, it’s okay. I
don’t need to,” as he presses another kiss to his face. That answer doesn’t
make Wally completely happy, but he downplays it by turning towards the next
kiss Barry is delivering, meeting his lips directly. Barry smiles at him, and
returns the gesture, kissing him again as he slides his arms around his
shoulders.
The truth is, that Barry has a raging hard-on. He’s going to need to jack
himself off. But the more inconvenient truth is that if he indulged it right
now, if he let Wally touch him, he’d lose what little restraint he had left.
He’d completely lose control.
So he keeps calm. Revels in the excitement and pleasure he brought his lover.
Kisses the corner of his lips as pulls him closer. Tries to memorize the feel
of his body, tries to memorize the way he tasted, the way he reacted, the way
he’s leaning into the embrace like it brings him comfort.
Lover.
Lover, Wally, I-
Barry’s kissing him again, in a sweet and affectionate kiss that makes them
both smile at each other, pleasured and giddy and on the verge of joy-
When the phone in Wally’s pocket starts to vibrate.
-
I love you. That’s what Barry wanted to say.
But anything he wanted to say is now useless. Because Wally’s on the phone, and
from the sounds of it, the conversation isn’t going well. It’s something
urgent. Something pressing. Something that may take him away from him.
At least for the rest of the evening.
But that’s no good. That’s no good. Because they need to talk. He needs to talk
to him-
When Wally comes back into the room, he has a sort of grimace on his face.
“What’s wrong,” Barry asks, almost afraid to know.
Wally sighs, “Mom… wants us over for dinner.”
Barry immediately assumes the worst, but Wally’s quick to ease his fears.
His voice is an annoyed, but calm rush, “She’s mad she hasn’t seen mealldayso,”
he shrugs, “She said, If I invite Barry, then you have to come.” He grumbles to
himself and crosses his arms across his chest.
“She misses you,” Barry suggests.
“I don’t care,” Wally snaps back. But he immediately tenses, like he didn’t
intend to use that tone.
But Barry understands. “It’s okay if you don’t. But you should go.”
Wally quickly objects, “She said you and me-”
“Wally,” he scolds him gently, gently, “You don’t need me there.”
Wally pauses, hesitantly.
“Do you?”
Before Wally speaks, he pauses to idly bite his lip. His eyes suddenly seem
overwhelmed with a distant sadness, and his voice is half-empty when he stares
directly at him and answers, “I always need you.”
Barry feels like the air just got knocked out of him. His breath a sharp
intake, “Wally-”
“I’msorry,” Wally looks away, turning his face in shame.
Barry tries to comfort him, even if he doesn’t completely understand, “It’s
okay.”
But Wally’s not looking at him. He’s backing away.
So Barry does what he can, to keep him there.
“I’ll go with you.”
-
The evening begins calmly enough. Barry’s giving his trademark smile, when
Wally’s mother remarks that, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you.”
But Barry knows why he’s there; it’s not because they wanted to get back in
touch. “You’re right, Mary. It sure has been.”
She gives a small laugh, “We’ve been meaning to invite you over, but things
just got so busy around here…”
Barry gives a polite nod, “I understand.”
Her face tenses slightly, “And we didn’t want to bother... what with… what
happened.”
Barry’s voice is enthusiastic and kind, “No, not at all.”
The sight of such a false smile on his face turns Wally’s stomach.
“I appreciate the invite.”
The lies.
“But it’s great to see you again, Barry. Rudy and I are both glad.”
The lies between them.
“Of course. I’m happy to be here.”
Wally hates it.
“Wally.”
He looks up, to the sound of his mother’s urgent voice.
“Can you get the lemonade from the fridge?”
“I’ve got it,” Barry rises quickly.
Mary laughs, “That’s not necessary, Wally can-”
“Nah, leave it to me,” he pats Wally on the shoulder as he breezes by. It’s a
small comfort during a tense situation.
Barry reappears with the pitcher, setting it down onto the table as Wally’s
mother gives a small sigh. “Wally doesn’t like to do chores anymore,” with a
pained laugh; a laugh chased down with a bitter edge.
There it is.
“Nah, I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Barry’s trying to ease her
temper before it starts. “He’s a good kid.”
That pressure in his chest.
“I understand you’ve been seeing quite a lot of him.”
That sinking feeling.
“Yes,” Barry’s voice is almost somber, but he’s disciplined enough to keep it
light, “He’s really been there for me.”
“Oh?” Mary’s skeptical eyes, her hand pauses, fingers hovering around the glass
in front of her.
“Yes,” he calmly nods, “When Iris… left us, we… both lost someone very
special.”
Barry.
When Barry says something like that, someone so startlingly genuine, Wally
wants to move closer. He wants to move closer, slide his arms around him,
forget about everyone and everything else in this room-
But he can’t. Not at all. So instead he stares into his empty plate, studying
the decorations, small blue flowers imprinted against the ceramic.
“Oh, but,” Barry’s backpedaling, as he throws his hands up in a defensive
motion, “I know how important she was to you.”
“Yes,” Mary gives a faint sigh.
Rudy cuts in, “She was an important part of our family.”
A brief moment of silence. All too brief.
“Barry, we…”
Wally’s cringing, because he knows what that tone in her voice means.
“We don’t want Wally to be a bother to you.”
“N-no,” Barry has to slow himself down, “Not at all. I appreciate the company.”
“I mean, I try to tell him,” she’s already shaking her head, “That you’re a
grown man, you want your space…”
“N-no,” Barry’s managing a small laugh, even as she continues on.
“You have your own life, you know?” She sighs again. “I-I mean I try, but I
just can’t get him to stay home,” as she throws her hands up in exasperation.
“Wally,” Barry shakes his head accordingly, with a warm chuckle, “Are you
avoiding your mother?”
He doesn’t want to tease him. Not now. But he can’t risk it. He can’t risk
being entirely honest. So he’s going with the flow. He’s playing along, hoping
not to hurt his feelings.
Wally’s aware. He understands. “No,” he whines, a small pout in his lips. He’s
lying.
Barry gets it. Barry knows. “She’s your mom, Wally,” he playfully scolds him,
“You need to see her sometimes, too.”
“Thank you,” Mary smiles at him. But she quips, “It’d be nice if you’d remember
that you live here.”
“And that you’re just a kid,” Rudy murmurs, “and you need to be more
responsible.”
“How have I been irresponsible?” the instant Wally asks it, he clenches his jaw
shut. Bad move, bad move.
Don’t lose your composure. It’s not worth it.
“Wally,” his mother’s lips are pursed flat into a thin line, as she almost
rolls her eyes, “We’ve been over this. Let’s not start it again.” She gives a
half-smile, “Let’s just have a nice dinner with Barry, okay?”
Before Wally can react, Barry startles him. Barry startles everyone.
“Has he been acting up lately?”
“N-no,” her eyes grow wide, and her desire to save face kicks in. A nervous
giggle, “You know how kids are,” with a shake of her head, “Well… You know how
Wally can get sometimes.” She nods, “He’s a very stubborn child.”
Rudy cuts in again, delivering another cold remark, “And he’s never home. His
friends are more important than his family.”
“Well, half the time it’s Barry,” Mary laughs. But the instant she catches what
she said, she pauses. Stops frozen, and gives the man a curious glance.
But Barry’s not looking at her. He’s keeping an eye on Wally, who’s biting his
lip and seemingly trying to disappear beneath the table.
When Barry feels their eyes on him, he forces himself to look away. “I beg your
pardon,” his tone lower than usual, his words almost hushed, “but I think
you’re being a little hard on him.”
“Wha…” Mary’s lips open to say more, but she stops when Barry resumes his
statement.
“Iris was very important to him.”
“Yes, I know,” Mary’s nodding, not entirely following-
“He’s been through a lot.” He’s trying to keep himself calm. Beneath the table,
Wally notices the subtle vibration of the floor beneath a rapidly twitching
leg, as his foot taps against the tiles beneath. “And as his parents, I think
the last thing you should be doing, is to make him feel guilty over something…
so petty.”
“Huh?” Rudy’s sending him a rotten glare.
Mary says nothing.
Barry sends a fake laugh in their direction, a wide grin like he’s trying to
lessen the weight of what he’s about to say. “I understand your concern, but
he’s not a bad kid. He’s not doing anything wrong.”
Wally tenses up; they don’t notice.
“He’s not hurting anyone,” Barry pauses, “He’s not bothering me. And yeah, I
could use my space but,” he shrugs, “To be honest, without Iris, the… The house
is very quiet, and… it’s nice to have someone else around.”
Wally looks up at him, just to see the expression on his face. It’s more somber
than he expects. But only for a second before he puts his smile back on.
“Hmm,” Mary’s sighing to herself. “I guess I… see what you’re saying… but…”
“The bigger issue,” Rudy clarifies, as he idly scoots his chair back a ways
from the table, and stretches out his arms with a groan, “Is that he’s our son,
and he’s never home. Ever since Iris’ death, he’s not been acting like a member
of our family.”
Barry’s eyes are starting to sharpen as he stares at him, but the man appears
not to notice.
“And it’s all well and good that you don’t mind it,” the man almost scoffs at
him, “but we do. He’s a member of the West family, not the Allen household.”
A sharp intake of breath; Barry’s chest shakes, so suddenly, so quickly, for
such a brief slice of time that only Wally notices.
“Yes, and-” Mary attempts, before Rudy cuts her off.
“Iris’ death hit us all very hard, but if Wally’s still grieving, he needs a
counselor, not his Uncle.”
Barry’s jaw is falling slack. The words are rushing to the surface.
Wally’s not sure he’s ever seen him appear like this. Like he could just reach
out and hit the man.
“With no offense to you personally, Barry,” Mary’s words are kinder.
“None taken,” but his voice is a low growl.
“Now if you’d be so kind, Barry,” Rudy doesn’t bother faking a smile, “We’d
like some time alone with our son.”
Mary hesitantly adds, “Y-yes, we-”
“It’s been nice seeing you,” Rudy’s abrupt and direct.
Barry manages a grin, “You trying to get rid of me?”
“Is that a problem?”
Barry’s smile fades. His stare becomes neutral and cold. He’s thinking things
he shouldn’t say. Things he shouldn’t do. Don’t hurt him. Don’t get into a
fight. Don’t let it get to you. You might hurt him if you retaliate.
The things Wally begged him not to do, never to do, when he saw the fading
bruises on his face, lost his composure and said he’d kill him.
It’s not the first time Rudy’s cut him down. But it stings more than usual.
Maybe because he’s throwing around the word death like it carries no meaning.
Like it doesn’t make everyone in the room flinch.
Maybe because he’s forcibly pushing him away from Wally.
And goddammit he still needs to talk to him.
“Rudy, listen-” Barry’s starting to put his words together.
But Wally beats him to the chase.
“I’m leaving with Barry.”
“What,” his mother’s eyes grow wide, “Wally-”
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Wally,” Rudy scolds him. “You’re not going anywhere unless we-”
“I’m sick of listening to you,” Wally’s voice turns bitter.
“You don’t listen to us as it is,” his mother complains.
“Maybe that’s how it should be,” Wally stresses, as he stands up. “If you’re
just gonna guilt-trip me and insult Barry for the rest of the night-”
“Wally,” his mother gasps in alarm.
“I’m tired of you treating him like he doesn’t matter!”
“Wally,” Barry cautions him.
“Like he’s not important!”
“Wally,” Barry tries again, gentler this time.
“He’s important to me,” and when he says it, his lip trembles, as he has to
shrug off some of his anxiety. His voice a stumbling rush, as he leans towards
the man, “Let’s just go.”
“Wallace West,” his mother is scolding him, “Settle. Down.”
His voice more fragile this time, a low whisper, “Can we go, please?”
Barry knows what he should do.
He should tell Wally to calm himself, but kindly. Tell him to calm down, listen
to his parents, consider their point of view. He should tell him to be
rational, to realize that maybe he’s just worked up right now, maybe he’s just
being overly defensive, maybe he’s not thinking this through.
But fuck that, because…
Fuck that, right now.
He rises to his feet, with a solemn, “Alright.”
“Barry, you wouldn’t,” he hears Mary’s exasperated voice.
“For the kid’s sake, Mary. He’s getting stressed.”
“Barry Allen, who do you think you-” Rudy raises his voice.
“I’m the Flash,” Barry cuts him off. “And I’m a hell of a lot stronger than
you.”
And suddenly, quickly, before they can see it, he reaches out and takes Wally’s
hand; gives it a tight squeeze.
A hasty whisper in his ear, “Let’s go home.”
-
This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. His mother is going to be
furious. Not concerned; furious. His father will hit the roof. He’ll hit him
harder than he ever has before. Because he talked back to them. Because he
embarrassed them, in front of a guest. Because he embarrassed them in front of
Barry, of all people.
Barry, he’s…
He’s amazing.
Wally doesn’t know how else to think of him, anymore. He doesn’t know what else
to feel about him in general. Barry is many things, but every word he tries to
find and replace just leads back to Amazing. Sincere, kind, comforting,
soothing, loving-
And when his mind echoes that last word inside his head, he gives a small
shiver. Feels the familiar warmth rush in a jitter down his spine, the light-
headedness that starts somewhere behind his eyes. He exhales, but that’s not
enough. Doesn’t steady his breath at all.
When they first arrived, Barry was still holding his hand. He gave it another
squeeze before he let go, as if to make sure he was alright.
And they’re not talking about it. About any of it. Not right now. Maybe soon.
Hopefully soon. Probably soon.
Barry likes to take his time, before breaching a subject. Wally likes to wait
until the last possible moment. So they are usually ready around the same time,
when they can’t withstand the pressure or the sadness or whatever it has
become.
In the current moment, they’re not speaking a word about what happened.
Standing side by side, for a brief moment they share the bathroom, glancing at
each other in the mirror as they’re brushing their teeth, and now Barry’s
washing his face, and it’s so unusually normal compared to all that’s happened.
All the stress seems irrelevant now, because when Barry pulls his shirt off and
waltzes into the bedroom, this seems like the way things should be.
A shared moment in the lives of lovers; that’s what this feels like. Barry’s
not acting like anything’s out of the ordinary. He sits on the bed wearing only
his boxers, turns on the television to find something to watch before he passes
out and seems hesitant, like he’s waiting for Wally to arrive.
Wally’s splashing water over his face, lingering slower than usual, to try and
wash away the stress. But most of it is already vanishing, somewhere between
the realization that this could be his life now, somewhere between the idea of
what he wants and what he might actually have.
It’s not about them being lovers, or whatever they are. Whatever they’re
becoming, that is. It’s about the fact that they’re this comfortable, that they
can slip into a routine like this in one night, like it’s the way things always
should have been before.
Wally’s thinking they match each other, as he turns off the light and steps
into the bedroom. He’s thinking they complement each other, and that maybe
Barry’s the kind of companion he’s always needed, when he sits beside him on
the edge of the bed. He’s thinking they’re so at ease and natural around each
other that it’s crazy, when Barry sends him a small smile and murmurs a quiet,
“You can get in, if you want,” in a strangely innocent way that just rolls off
the tongue.
Wally pulls back the sheets and crawls in; when he realizes this is Barry’s
bed, his chest tenses up a little. But it’s not because it seems strange, or
out of the ordinary. Because Barry’s acting like it’s normal, when he follows
suit and slides in on the other side. Wally watches his legs slide beneath the
sheets, captivated by the sight. This feels so normal, when Wally lays down a
short distance away from him, peering up at him as he idly watches some
infomercial about an exercise program. Barry laughs at it, his chest a low and
faint rumble. Wally wants to touch him. He wants to close the space.
So he reaches a hand out, a cautious hand, and presses it flat against Barry’s
leg; he feels what he imagines to be the equivalent of a nervous tremble in
Barry, before he turns to look at him, a faint grin on his face.
Barry’s murmuring a fond, “Kid,” as he reaches down for that hand, and seizes
it tightly, holding it in his own. His fingers are strong and slightly rough,
and somehow Wally’s never noticed how they feel before. He’s closing his eyes
as Barry continues to hold that hand, stroking it lightly, in small half-
circles with his thumb.
Eventually, he makes the decision to turn in for the night. Turns the tv off.
Sends the room into pitch darkness, with only a trace of moonlight sneaking in
through the windows. Wally hears him move; feels the sheets tug and shift. He’s
listening to him breathing, listening to him trying to get comfortable, when he
finally releases his hand to fluff up the pillow.
Barry gives a small sigh. For a moment, silence. And then-
A faint pressure, a gentle kiss to his forehead. A low murmur, “Goodnight,
Wally.”
He smiles, even if he can’t see it, “Goodnight, Barry,” and he wants to kiss
him back, but he can’t see him well enough in the darkness. But he doesn’t have
to. When Barry finds his mouth and kisses him there, Wally’s quick to return
the gesture, before he can get away.
Barry laughs a little. Kisses him again, more firmly this time, massaging
against his lips with his own before he lets it fade and pulls back. “Sleep
well.”
“You too, Barry,” he wants to say and do so much more, but… It’s almost enough.
Almost-
Another moment of silence. He presses his luck, and slides a little closer. He
hears the rhythm of Barry’s breathing change, as he’s sure he’s being either
watched, or studied otherwise. Slides a little closer; wonders what to do when
his head is starting to slide off the edge of his pillow. This is too far, but
not far enough-
Barry takes the hint. He gets it. A low but pleasant sigh, like coming home
from a long day at work. He reaches out, murmurs a quiet, “Come ‘ere,” and
gives him a gentle tug on the shoulder. Wally moves in. A hand on his back,
Barry pulls Wally towards him, until his face is only inches away on Barry’s
pillow, so close he can feel him breathing, Barry’s strong arms around his
body, one hand draped over his waist.
Barry kisses him on the forehead. Wally allows a sigh to escape, as he nudges
even closer. So close he can lean in and kiss Barry’s chest.
Barry doesn’t laugh this time. Wally can’t tell if he’s happy or startled or
maybe even aroused; Barry just kisses his face again as a response, reaching a
hand up to trail his fingers up his back, a move that makes Wally shiver,
because he’s sensitive on his spine and Please touch me more, Barry, he can
never get enough of contact like this.
Barry kisses his face again with a quiet, “Go to sleep baby,” as Wally can feel
his lips moving against his skin. It makes him dizzy. It makes him feel like
he’s not even in the room at all. Like they’re in an undefined space, a vast
darkness, a place in the world where it’s only them; Barry’s kisses, Barry’s
touch-
A place where Barry calls him baby-
Wally drifts to sleep with a small joke, “Yes, sir,” to the tune of Barry’s
slow breathing, to the warmth of his body and the feel of his hand relaxing
against his back, and the curious sensation of their legs brushing against each
other.
For a long expanse of time, Barry is silent. He’s pressing his lips against
Wally’s face in a series of slow, light kisses, even though he knows he’s too
asleep to feel it now. But he likes to kiss him, because it somehow makes him
feel better. It’s easing his stress. Even if he feels guilty and ashamed.
Ashamed, because what grown man would do this? Ashamed, because what Uncle
would do this? Iris would be appalled. Don’t mention Iris- Iris would be
disgusted. You finally lost it, she’d say. You finally gave in, huh? with a sad
smile on her face. She wouldn’t be able to look at him anymore.
When he’d once said he might lose control, she’d told him, “I don’t want to
lose you, Barry.” That was enough for him to hear, at the time.
Now, he knows it wouldn’t be.
Because he wants this boy; he’s reaching the point where he needs him. Needs to
kiss him, to touch him, to hold him, to bask in his mutual affection. To hold
him like his lover, to crawl on top of him in this bed, to have sex with him-
That thought gives him pause. A tense, uncomfortable moment of pause, when he
imagines what Wally must look like during sex, the way his face gets so
flushed, his naked and smooth chest, his beautiful body, decorated with those
adorable freckles, and the agility of his legs, when he’d spread them and hook
them over his hips-
He’s getting hard. Son of a bitch.
Wally’s skin is so smooth; he’s warm and smooth, like the sun kissed him and
never left. He kisses his neck. Hears him breathing, shallow and slower than he
ever does while conscious. Lets his lips ghost over his shoulder, kissing a
spot where he knows more freckles would be, where he’s almost memorized their
look and pattern there-
Stop, stop. He has to stop. Because if he doesn’t stop, if he doesn’t pull back
now, he’s just going to keep kissing him. He’s going to kiss him, and he’s
going to wake him up, and he’s going to expose him to his shame. He’s going to
expose him to his need and that’s the last thing he wants to put him through
right now.
Because the growing love between them is innocent and kind and sweet and he
hates that he’s even perverted it to the extent he has. He wants Wally to have
this. To have something precious, undamaged by his lust for him, kept pure.
Because Wally deserves to have something beautiful in his life. Something that
won’t hurt him, something that won’t break his heart. But shit, Barry would
never do that. He doesn’t believe he could. Because Wally is the most beautiful
thing in his world.
Wally is the beauty in his world.
He finds his lips, and kisses them one more time; gently, faintly, so as not to
startle him. And like he expects, Wally doesn’t even move in reaction.
Wally, baby-
He tries his luck, kisses him again.
And he can’t take it anymore. He slowly turns away from him, slowly and
cautiously so that he’d barely notice him moving away. And pulls a familiar
trick he used to pull with Iris, when he’d find himself much like this, lying
awake and thinking of Wally, wanting to put his tongue in his mouth, wanting to
wrap his hands around his-
Barry reaches down and takes hold of himself, keeping a cautious eye on Wally
as he starts to masturbate, slowly at first; he has to be careful not to move
the bed, because he wants to lose control, wants to jack himself furiously and
fast, but he can’t risk it. Wally can never know about this. He can’t.
He does what he can to stifle his deep breaths, his inherent want to gasp out
loud as he starts to feel the pressure building, the ache rising, as his
fingers tease the head; he slides his other hand down to massage his balls,
cupping and massaging them as he slowly thrusts his hips forward and back.
Slowly thrusts like he’s fucking someone, like he’s fucking into Wally, his
beautiful boy, Wally, as he’d gasp and moan in pleasure, Wally-
Even the thought of his name is enough to bring him pleasure right now, as he
continues to fuck his hand, biting his lip to suppress the need to cry out,
until his jaw falls open, as he tilts his head back and pants out silent gasps
into the room, hoping to God Wally does not hear a damn thing, hoping to God he
doesn’t moan out loud when he comes.
And now he’s increasing the speed, just a little, just enough to satisfy his
need for more delicious friction, the kind of friction that sparks the pressure
inside him, friction that makes him shake every time his cock pushes against
his fingers, every time he grabs a firmer hold of himself. Every time he thinks
of Wally’s body, his face as he’d rub the head of his cock over his lips, of
the expression he’d make when he’d nervously stick out his tongue-
That image makes Barry shiver; it makes him shake badly, so badly he has to
watch himself, because the bed starts to move and that’s the last thing he
wants.
Wally can never know about this. Wally can never know about this-
Wally, with his wide eyes. If he were to wake up right now, to the sounds he’s
making, the way he’s writhing beneath the sheets. If he could figure out what
was going on, how would he react-
Would he touch him. Would he help- Would he let Barry touch him, would he let
Barry crawl over him and suck him off again, while he finished jacking himself-
Oh God. Oh God- It makes his chest tight and his lungs ache, when he remembers
what he did. He’d blissfully chosen not to think about it. To this boy, this
beautiful boy beside him. He pulled his pants down and sucked him off, gave him
an impulsive blowjob like he was a toy, like he was something to be kept and
enjoyed. Like he was a lover, but not the kind you ask first. He didn’t have
the decency to get permission, he just moved in-
And it makes him feel horrible and aroused at the same time, hot to the point
where his cock starts to ache. A steady ache and tension that’s building,
leaving him breathless with every squeeze and twist of his fingers.
If I could have you…
Thrust, thrust, thrust, his cock straining against the sheets, as he arches his
hips upward, into the ghost of a body he can’t penetrate-
If I could have you as my own, Wally.
The ghost on the other side, the imagined feel of Wally’s body, the imagined
warmth surrounding his cock, and the sounds he’d make when he pushes his way
inside-
I want-
When he comes, he does so with a slow sigh, as he closes his eyes and falls
back against the bed. Massages his cock gently as he feels his own cum between
his fingers, relaxing his heat rate down to normal.
He opens his eyes. Breathes deep and slow. Glances over to Wally, who’s sound
asleep beside him.
He hurries to clean himself off, being mindful of not letting too much of his
cum drip out of his hand when he leaves the bed and retreats to the bathroom.
He doesn’t stay there for very long, just long enough to fetch toilet paper and
take care of the essential business. Because every fraction of a second
standing there, alone without Wally beside him, feels like much too long.
And when he crawls back into bed, thoughts of sex still lingering faintly in
the corners of his mind, it’s all blurring together into an overwhelming
sensation of adoration and- Oh God, happiness and- Oh God, Wally-
He’s kissing him again, he’s kissing him so hard that Wally stirs this time, a
questioning, “Mm,” as he turns into it. Barry traces a hand along the side of
his face, and he can’t stop. Can’t stop, can’t stop, he’s licking his lips,
gently chewing against them as Wally’s eyes drift open.
Beautiful eyes, eyes that shine so brilliantly he can catch a glimmer from
them, even in the darkness.
Deepening the kiss as Wally closes his eyes again, and sinks into it. Massaging
against his lips slowly as he runs a hand along his hairline, and brushes his
fingers back through his hair.
Wally…
He can’t stop. He can’t stop.
If I could have you as my lover. Truly, as my lover.
“Barry,” Wally finally murmurs, his voice tired and hesitant.
“I’m sorry,” Barry responds, kissing at the corner of his mouth.
“Is everything okay,” he asks, as Barry trails a kiss down to his collarbone.
“Yes,” his voice a low murmur, as he presses his lips there one more time, “Go
back to sleep.”
“Are you sure,” his voice has such concern-
“Yes, baby,” that word keeps tumbling out of his mouth. He kisses just below
his eyes, tracing over his eyebrows with a feather-light touch, “Go to sleep.”
“Mm,” Wally makes a small sound, as he curls in towards him, and settles back
down.
If you were my lover, Wally.
He slides both arms around him, giving a small sigh to himself when Wally
slides into his embrace, burying his face just below his chin, his slow
breathing dancing puffs of air across his neck.
Barry pulls him closer; holds him as tightly as he can, without making him
uncomfortable.
I’d never let you go.
A thought chases that one, following on its heels.
I’d never let you die.
But that thought is a damning one; it’s a dark ghost that lurks in the shadows
of his mind. It brings with it a sudden, terrifying regret, a burden in his
soul, like an anchor tugging down at his heart.
So he pushes it away as far as he can. He retreats to the last known phrase,
that he could easily agree with. A phrase he can linger and dwell on.
I could have you.
-
Wally wakes up to a room of sunlight, and the deep sound of Barry’s breathing.
He opens his eyes to the view of his back, smooth and sculpted as his body
slowly shifts with each breath. He tilts his head up slightly, and is
captivated by the sight of his hair against the pillow, more golden than he’d
ever seen it, illuminated in the gentle light of the room.
Deep breathing, deep breathing. He crawls a little closer, feels warmth in that
space on the sheets, like Barry was there only minutes before.
He’s not thinking, he just-
He reaches out, and presses a hand against Barry’s back; his smooth skin,
surprisingly more soft than he imagined. He traces a large half-circle across
it, and smiles to himself when he hears the man react, moving a little even in
his sleep, like it’s a tickling sensation. Wally leans forward, and presses a
kiss over his nearest shoulder.
And with a smile, he sinks back into the pillow and drifts back into sleep.
Barry,
He’s falling asleep, to that deep and slow breathing.
I love you.
A smile on his face, as his awareness suddenly fades, shuts off like a switch.
I love you so much.
-
Wally’s awakened by a curiously wet sensation. At first his skin feels humid
and hot, like he’s been sweating; but that can’t be right. He was barely under
the sheets- He didn’t think he was. But somehow, he’s wet and warm and
surrounded by heat- Heat, heat, he’s so hot-
It’s around now that he’s realizing there’s a weight over him; he tries to move
his legs and feels them brush against a texture that feels remarkably like
skin, smooth and slightly rough from fine hairs- Legs, legs, he’s brushing
against someone’s legs-
Wetness at the base of his neck, it’s not a brief contact, it’s a massage,
something pressing, digging into his skin; he feels the sharp pain of being
sucked on, hears the sound escape of someone sucking on him-
He opens his eyes to see the body crawling over him as the assault on his neck
continues, as he feels the weight settling down on top of him, his legs
immobilized, his groin suddenly warming up from a foreign contact, something
that teases and taps against his cock.
Heavy breathing, and a murmured, “I’m sorry,” low and rough.
Barry.
He’s licking his neck, kissing and licking his face, tasting his skin anywhere,
everywhere, as he gradually lowers and pushes himself against him.
Barry-
He hesitantly tries to move his arms; he can. They’re still free enough. He
reaches around slowly, finding the back of the man’s shoulders, pressing down
against them. So warm, so warm, Barry is burning up, he’s burning up-
“Forgive me,” another rushed apology, as he feels an immense pressure against
his groin, the pressure of someone intentionally pushing against him, so hard
he feels Barry’s own cock twitch, feels the warmth and weight of his legs on
top of his-
“It’s okay,” his voice an awkward whisper, his throat only half-recovered from
sleep.
More kisses against his face, as Wally trails a hand through his hair to
reassure him. But it doesn’t seem to help, “I’m so sorry,” his voice laced with
regret and something bitter. Something painful, something Wally doesn’t want to
understand, “Tell me to stop.”
“Barry?” he questions. They’re this close, they’re this close, so why-
“Tell me to stop.”
He feels another kiss against his face, as he hears the man sigh against him.
He sighs as he moves, starting to gently roll his hips and grind against his
body. God, Barry-
“No,” he manages, almost like a curse, “I can’t.”
“Wally, please,” Barry’s trailing his teeth along the sensitive skin along his
jaw, in between explorative licks from his tongue.
“No,” he sends an intentional message, sliding one of his hands down the man’s
back, to rub against his ass; it almost feels bizarre. It would feel bizarre,
if this wasn’t Barry, if this wasn’t a man who was likely only minutes away
from fucking him-
And thank God for that, thank God, thank God, he doesn’t care how wrong it is,
doesn’t care how dirty, doesn’t care if he’s misbehaving and bending a few
rules. Doesn’t care at all. Because Barry is warm and hot and he smells like
sweat and what he imagines sex must smell like, hot and messy and teasing with
the faint hint of cum, like one of them is already leaking-
Or maybe it’s in his imagination. Either way-
Oh it’s coming from him, it’s his own-
He manages to do what little he can, as he gives Barry’s ass a gentle squeeze,
trying to be as obvious and direct as possible. “Don’t stop,” his voice comes
out in a sort of growl, rushed and increasingly desperate.
I want you so much.
Barry’s answer is a kiss to his mouth, a firm and hard kiss that parts his lips
and steals the air from him.
Wally moans, as he arches himself against him.
I want you so much I can’t stand it anymore.
Ethics be damned. Morals be damned. Anyone who objects can go fuck themselves.
I want you.
-
Stop it stop it stop it stop.
Goddamn you, stop.
His hands on the boy’s thighs as he spreads his legs apart.
Stop.
Small freckles scattered there on the skin, exactly the way he remembers them.
He wants to lick each one. He wants to taste each one. If only he weren’t
already-
Stop.
But it’s too late.
He’s pushing his way inside him, slow and slick from lubricant. He feels his
lover’s entrance tightening around his cock as the boy trembles, a confusing
mixed signal of discomfort and pleasure. He doesn’t want to hurt him. Can’t
bring himself to hurt him. But he knows he will, just a little. It can’t be
avoided. Because he didn’t take his time. Because he didn’t, couldn’t wait.
Couldn’t wait, when he woke up and saw the beauty in his bed, face at rest,
lips slightly parted. Couldn’t wait, when their bodies were brushing together,
skin against skin, sharing the same heat. Couldn’t wait, when his hands danced
over that body, flirted with the idea of fondling, of caressing, of touching
intimately-
Couldn’t wait-
Wally gasps, his eyes widening in that instant.
Inside, he’s inside-
He can’t remember the last time he felt such a thrill to be inside someone. It
makes him lightheaded. It makes him unable to contain his joy, as he feels the
smile creep onto his face, even as he tries to fight it off. Not now, stay
focused. Not now, stay serious. For Wally.
Wally, who’s frowning to himself, biting his bottom lip as he closes his eyes.
“Does it hurt,” he tries to keep his voice gentle, as he leans down to close
some of the space between them.
Wally initially says, “No,” but Barry knows he’s lying.
He murmurs a quick, “I’m sorry, baby,” before he starts to move. Slowly, just a
slow thrust back and in again, to make sure he can handle it. Wally’s tensing
up; he’s tensing up, “Relax for me,” he tries to soothe him with his voice,
sliding his hands beneath his thighs, firmly cupping against his ass to lift
him into better position.
Wally murmurs a groan that’s almost a sigh, as he brings a hand to his mouth
and starts to bite against it.
Baby.
Barry’s thrusting in, Wally’s frowning to himself.
I’m sorry, baby.
But it’s too late to stop now. They’ve come too far.
-
Wally’s hips roll forward, as he moans and tilts his head back. He breathes a
quiet, “Yes,” that catches Barry off-guard; it fuels the fire inside him. The
fire, that keeps him thrusting and thrusting, faster than before. The fire that
keeps him pounding into his ass like the world’s ending, like this may be the
last time they ever do this.
Because it might. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t care to worry about it right now.
Because Wally is beneath him, a lover that is aroused and panting and whining
incoherently to himself. A lover whose cock is rock hard, whose hips are
rolling in tune to his thrusts, a lover that is almost begging for more of his
affection-
And he has plenty to give. Never-ending.
He hovers above him, hands digging into the mattress at either side of his body
as he leans down, close enough to hear every small sigh and gasp Wally makes,
close enough to see the sweat on his chest as he continues to thrust. Feels his
lover’s body tighten around him, feels the immense heat around his cock as he
has to moan, just a little, to keep from losing it. Needs to release some
pressure, some stress, he moans again and lets it dissolve into a hasty, wet
and loud series of licks to his lover’s neck. His skin is sensitive there;
Wally hisses accordingly when he sucks on him, leaving a bruise that’s quickly
fading as he pulls back.
There’s a sadness in his heart, when he sees each mark fade; but he’d rather
not dwell on that.
He leans back now, positions himself onto his knees, lifting Wally’s body to
move with him, in the name of a better angle. This will feel better. This will
go deeper.
And when he thrusts this time, Wally cries out when he pushes all the way in.
He can’t tell if it’s from pain; no, it’s not, because Wally’s moaning again,
another whispered, “Yes,” as his lips part in another pant, low and harsh
around the edges.
He pushes in again; “Yes;” again; “Yes;” again, and again, and again.
He’s watching in awe as Wally moves a hand down, reaches down to grab his own
cock, wrapping his fingers around it and stroking gently, squeezing with each
thrust. Good boy. Squeezing and twisting at the head, rubbing against it,
smearing the familiar pre-cum around; Barry loves the smell of it, he loves the
sight of it on his fingers.
Wally pauses and sends him an anxious look when he catches him staring; but
Barry sends him a message, a small grin as he pushes inside him again, allowing
his body to vibrate at a low frequency when he thrusts as deep as he can.
Wally cries out loud, a distorted and broken moan that’s almost desperate, as
Barry takes the hint and vibrates himself just a little faster. He doesn’t pull
back this time, not right away; he stays there, pushing deep, pushing against
what must be his prostate, from the way Wally’s cringing and whining as he
jacks himself off.
Pulls back, and pushes forward; gets the same reaction each time he hits
against it. Feels a rush of pleasure every time he sees Wally make that face,
that face like he’s hurt, like he’s devastated, the way his cheeks are flushed
and his eyes are closing- Deeper, and deeper, he’s pushing in hard, moving
faster, faster, not caring if he rocks the bed, faster, faster, vibrating,
vibrating, Wally’s moaning, moaning, arching his hips forward.
The gentle impression of hip bones protruding out; the smooth and freckle-
kissed skin. A smooth waist, a sculpted abdomen with muscles that tense and
tighten every time he cries out loud. A smooth chest, Wally is so smooth, a
smooth chest with hardened nipples that capture his attention every time he
inhales deeply, every time his chest rises and falls.
He allows his hand to wander that body; traces up his stomach, up his chest as
his lover shivers beneath him. Allows his fingers to drift over his nipples,
gives a gentle twist to one as Wally starts to moan to himself, as he massages
it and twists and massages as he continues to push inside him; they’re a tangle
of heat and limbs, one hand on his chest and the other firmly holding his ass
in place, Wally’s own hands still pleasuring his cock. They look at each other;
time slows down. Which must mean they’re speeding up.
Barry’s vibrating more intensely as Wally stares up at him with wide eyes and
gasps, his entire body startled as Barry attacks his prostate again. Come on
baby. Trembling, trembling, Barry relocates the hand on his lover’s chest, and
repositions it around Wally’s own. Presses the boy's fingers against his own
cock, starts to guide them as he massages. Come on.
He’s listening to Wally’s sounds of pleasure, thriving, reveling in how goddamn
erotic he sounds as he continues to thrust, to thrust, to thrust, his hands
helping his lover masturbate as he feels the pre-cum, feels it on his fingers-
Good God Wally, you come so much- but he wants to make him come for real, loves
making him come for real-
Wally closes his eyes; he’s close. He’s close.
Come on; Wally’s hand abandons the effort, as Barry is finishing the job for
him, vibrating his fingers as he moves aggressively, assertively, Wally’s
entire body shaking from overstimulation, shaking from the current running from
his cock to his ass, the bed shaking beneath them as Wally’s crying out,
“Barry,” moaning another, “Barry,” as he shakes and shakes-
And hot ejaculate’s pooling around his fingers when he comes, the scent of it
in the air, the scent of him in the air-
Barry doesn’t need much more than that; he slows down with the vibration, but
he thrusts and thrusts, thrusts and pounds into him so hard the mattress shakes
with each push of his legs, thrusts so hard Wally is still crying out, crying
out as he rides through his orgasm, eyes closing as his hands claw at his face,
at his hair to relieve the stress.
Barry’s shaking when he comes, shaking because it hits him suddenly, the
pleasure of fucking and the joy of release, like he hasn’t come for days. Light
and free, damn the consequences because he feels so light and free as he
empties himself, light and free as he slows down, light and free when their
gasps stop, and all that’s left in the silence is their heavy breathing,
exhausted breathing, ragged breaths.
The scent of sweat, the feel of it on Wally’s legs, as they’re pressed against
his thighs. The scent of cum from them both. The familiar sounds of kissing,
wet and rough while he slides himself out of him, pulls himself gently out of
his lover. Kissing soft lips that are shining with saliva, kissing against a
mouth that still pants hungrily for him, still lusts for him, still wants him,
as they relax and slow their tired bodies.
Barry’s kissing his face, when he hears something so faint, so delicate-
“I love you.”
He pauses.
A hesitant silence.
Baby, don’t be afraid.
A murmur against his skin, “And I love you,” before Barry kisses him again,
“very much.”
They’re tangled up in each other, Wally’s hands on his back, his legs sliding
around between and around his, sweat-covered bodies exchanging heat, heart-
rates almost in rhythm as Barry trails kisses down his neck, down his smooth
chest, because he can’t stop, he can never seem to stop decorating his body
with kisses, can never get over the taste of him, the way he feels-
And now he’s realizing what he just said.
A rush in his heart. A tension that makes him ache. A light-headedness that
makes him unsteady.
He expresses it with another kiss against his chest; and a murmured, “I love
you,” drifting between them like an echo.
-
Barry had never seen Wally cry before; not until one particular night, an
unfortunate evening on patrol. A couple of years have passed since then, but
when he closes his eyes, if he slows his brain down and thinks back, he can
still remember it.
Wally was writhing in agony, struggling in Barry’s arms as he tried to restrain
him. To keep him from cringing too much, to keep him from digging at his
injuries, to keep him from touching them, to keep his body as still as he
could.
“It’ll end soon,” was the most he could say at the time. It was rushed and
almost harsh, but it was all happening so fast that it left him little choice.
He couldn’t take it slow; they didn’t have time. There was no time, because
Wally’s body was repairing itself and his bones were fusing back together.
Wally was crying so hard he sobbed to himself, because it wasn’t healing fast
enough, the pain wasn’t ending fast enough, and when the world slowed down
around him, as he sped up the intensity of the feeling only grew. The seconds
felt like hours and the minutes felt like days.
Blood everywhere, blood on the asphalt beneath him, blood on his clothes, blood
on Barry’s hands as they held his arms pinned in place. Blood drying on his
face, blood dripping beneath his heavy body-
His skin stitching itself back together, bones locking into place as he
struggled to breathe, in the eternal space between suffocating and his lungs
filling with air. He was shaking when the last rib fused itself together,
trembling from the rush of cold air leaving his inner organs when the wound
closed itself. It felt intrusive, disorienting, sick; unnatural. Confusing and
dizzying when the final spark of pain made him want to scream out loud.
And just like that, it ended. A soothing hand massaging his shoulder, another
on his opposite arm when Barry asked, “Are you okay?”
“No,” he said honestly. But he looked down to confirm that yes, he was doing
better than he had been previously. He hesitantly used a now-free hand to touch
the skin that had closed up, almost startled at how normal the skin felt,
beneath the drying layer of blood splattered across his skin.
Wally sighs to himself. Turns to look back at Barry, as the man smiles down at
him, “I’m sorry, kid.”
“It’s okay,” because it would be. He didn’t know how, but somehow, this would
become acceptable. It wasn’t such a bad thing to endure an injury like this,
and to come back to full health. That in itself was a miracle. He just could’ve
done without the intense hurt involved.
He felt some shame for crying. But at the time, it felt justified. Because in
that fraction of time, he was thinking, I can’t take this anymore. He was
thinking, Why am I even a hero, if all I do is get hurt.
But there was Barry, with his weight against him and his strong presence. Barry
with his smile afterwards, and the somber look on his face that said he cared,
and that he understood. Barry had felt this before. Barry had endured hurt like
this before. Barry knew.
Wally asked, “Does that ever get better?”
“No,” Barry had to shake his head sadly, “But you’ll get used to it.”
There’s no if. No maybe, no should. Will.
Somehow, that changed everything.
“I’ll get used to that?” he even sent a skeptical look.
“Yeah,” Barry nodded, “You’ll know what to expect.”
At the time, he didn’t believe it. But then it happened a second time. And a
third.
When Wally’s body was torn open for the third time, Barry noticed something
important. Wally didn’t cry anymore. He didn’t cringe uncontrollably. He didn’t
need to be held down. He just lay there, remained where he’d fallen, laid flat
on his back and let his healing speed work its magic. His face was contorted in
pain, but he was so calm, so calm and brave that Barry had to ask to make sure
he felt any pain at all.
Wally had nodded at him, “Yeah. But I’m used to it.”
There was something sad and haunting about that statement.
Because someone as beautiful as Wally should never be used to something as
awful as that. But when he cautiously ran a hand along his side, where his guts
had been spilling out moments before, he sighed with relief and stood back up,
ready to go. It shouldn’t have been that easy. It should’ve never been that
easy.
But somehow, it was. When Barry asked, “Are you okay,” he received an adamant
nod in his direction, and a cool and calm, “Let’s get him.”
Barry nodded and forced a smile, “Alright, kid. You ready?”
Wally smiles back, “Of course.”
It shouldn’t have been that easy. But it was.
Wally was a tough kid. Wally was a brave kid. Wally could face something
horrifying and come out ready to fight again. Barry didn’t know how he did it,
or why he did it. He didn’t know why he’d never decided the pain was too much,
the risk was too high, and that he wanted to quit the job.
Barry would’ve let him. But he never asked.
Wally didn’t ask for a lot of things he wanted. He didn’t ask for a lot of
things he needed.
Wally never cried a lot. Never complained a lot. Never protested against
difficult things or backed down from a challenge. He was a fighter, through and
through.
So when he was injured that first time, facing a near-death experience and
sobbing in his arms, it was a moment Barry would never forget. Could never
forget. Because it was rare that Wally reacted to hardship, retaliated against
pain in any way but to flinch, and bury his emotions within himself.
When Wally was crying like that, all Barry wanted to do, was to hold him. To
hold him until it stopped. To hold him until the tears on his face dried up.
And when it happened the future times, times two and three, Barry felt the same
instinct, even if Wally was unsettlingly calm and collected on the surface.
He wanted to kiss his pain away; he wanted to give affection to take away every
amount of suffering he ever felt.
When he was cut open. When his father hit him. When his mother yelled at him.
When he was being bullied at school, and completely unable to defend himself as
Kid Flash. When he crushed on anybody that didn’t love him back. When he
started learning that he needed to apologize for everything, even things he
didn’t do—God, where did that come from, anyway. When he learned that nobody
cared about his feelings, or his selfish wants. When he learned that he was
less important than everyone else. When he became used to being ridiculed for
his natural personality. When he learned to shrug off the pity laughs and the
jeers to his jokes. When he learned that being misunderstood was okay, because
he never felt the need to defend himself, or explain his good intentions. When
he learned to never ask for love, to never demand it from others, because it
was so rarely given.
Wally became used to many things he shouldn’t have.
Barry wanted to get him used to something different.
I will always love you, he’d been unable to find the courage to say it out
loud.
And now, he’s thinking back to when he first realized that, when he’d first
wanted to express it, the night after Wally nearly died for the third time.
He’d meant a different kind of love then, but the platonic and romantic are
fusing together now. His feelings are merging. They’re becoming one and the
same, loving in a way more powerful than the sexual or the affectionate, loving
in a way that means more than a partner or a nephew or a lover. Loving in a way
that’s profound, and so strong it chokes him up if he tries to imagine how he’d
ever explain it, how he’d ever justify it.
Wally’s whistling to himself in the bathroom, a pleasant little tune as he
makes his way into the shower.
He loves him in nearly the same way he loved Iris.
And that thought is both terrifying and incredible. It startles and moves him.
Shakes him up, but in a pleasantly dizzying way he doesn’t regret. Not this
time.
Because if he wants to change Wally, he needs to change himself. To give him
something beautiful, he must become beautiful himself. He must become a better
man. A better partner. A lover, a genuine lover that will communicate honestly,
fearlessly.
There are too many truths Wally doesn’t hear. Too many truths he’s never known.
So no matter how he does it, Barry cannot, now or ever, stop saying them.
-
Wally gives him a quick hug before he leaves, a hug that almost turns sensual
when Barry returns his embrace, and he finds himself leaning into it and
pressing against him.
“Bye,” Wally’s voice is chipper and sweet, and Barry answers it with a quick
kiss and a, “Have fun,” as he pulls back.
Wally’s blushing. He’s blushing so much, his cheeks are so rosy that every
freckle on his face could be clearly seen. When he smiles he’s half-nervous and
almost afraid, “Barry?”
“Yeah, Wally?”
His smile falters a little, as he murmurs, “Is this going to…” he looks away.
“What’s that,” Barry’s leaning toward him, a hand on his back to calm his
nerves.
“Is this… are we...” he bites his lip.
He puts the word out there, to see what happens, “Lovers?”
Wally has to look away.
Barry waits for a moment, trying to contain his amusement. And to deny his own
apprehension. Because he can’t go against what Wally wants, so if he doesn’t
want-
“Yes,” his voice is small.
Barry clarifies it as honestly as he can, “If you want to be.”
Wally’s finally looking at him again, eyes widening as they stare at each
other. Barry can practically see Wally’s jaw dropping to the floor, before he
collects some of his composure. With a half-startled sigh, “That’s… that’s an
option?” as he fights back a grin.
Barry smiles, mainly because it holds back his laugh; he nods, “Yeah.”
Wally’s trembling.
Oh, baby.
Wally’s trembling, as he averts his eyes and seals his lips shut. He tilts his
head a little, almost like he wants to nod, and physically can’t. When Barry
runs a hand along his shoulder, sliding it across his back he tells him, “I
meant what I said.”
“Huh,” Wally glances at him, still recovering from what his brain is now
processing. This is a big deal. This is a big deal. He’s wondering, does Barry
even realize what a big deal this is- Does he even feel what-
“I love you,” he says it with an ease that surprises even himself.
Wally’s too stunned to say anything.
A gentle hand at the base of his neck, massaging his skin to ease some of the
tension forming in his shoulders. “You don’t have to feel the same way, but-”
“I do,” Wally almost trips over it.
Barry pauses. “Wally, are you sure you-”
“I do,” he stares at him with some alarm, like he’s concerned he won’t believe
him. “I…” he fumbles for the right words, “I-I want you to- I want-”
Wally’s a tough kid. He’s learned to accept that he can’t have what he wants,
so he never asks. He’s learned to accept that everyone else is entitled to more
than he is, happiness he can’t experience.
“Tell me, Wally,” he eases him into it. His voice cautious and faint, “What do
you want?”
“I…” he loses some of his willpower, and buries his face against the man’s
chest.
Barry wants to laugh, because Wally, how can you be so adorable, but he doesn’t
want to disturb the moment. Can’t take the risk of making him feel shame, or
any regret, or…
“I wanttodateyou.”
Barry slides both arms around him, pressing his hands firmly against his back.
A slow sigh, shallow and quiet. He leans down slightly, and kisses his
forehead. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Wally nervously asks; he’s shaking, he’s shaking-
“You got it,” Barry smiles. He pulls him in again, kissing the side of his face
along the way. Holds him close, so close he feels the rise and fall of Wally’s
chest when he breathes.
Wally’s arms around his chest, hands against his back as he sinks against him.
“I’ll give you everything you want,” Barry tells him.
And even more.
“Because I love you.”
A sound that’s something like a sigh escapes. A muffled voice, words lost
against his chest, “You too.”
Wally’s still shaking. Barry runs his hands along his back.
“Hey. Baby,” he says gently.
“Mm,” another muffled sound.
“You’re… probably gonna be late to your meeting.”
Wally tenses up. Immediately pulls back, his expression contorting in surprise.
He then cringes, “Why am I always late everywhere…”
Barry grins, “Well, don’t let me keep you.”
Wally pauses, with a grin of his own, “I’d like you to.”
Wally’s learned to never ask for what he wants. Wally’s learned to never ask
for what he needs.
They’re making progress.
“There’s time for that later,” Barry laughs. “Now go have a life, okay?”
Wally nods, and nervously steps back, “Okay. Okay, so…”
“Yeah, Wally?”
“We’re… we’re okay?” those familiar wide eyes.
“We’re more than okay.”
Wally’s smiling, “Great,” and turns to leave.
He’s smiling as he races to the mountain, too. He’s smiling when he arrives.
He’s even smiling when he rushes in and gets there late, with his teammates
already gathered around in a big circle and being debriefed on the mission.
“Hi,” he announces cheerfully.
He ignores the half-amused, half-critical looks sent in his direction. Ignores
the glare from the ominous Batman himself, as the man pauses, and then
continues onward. He even ignores the snickering from Dick, even though he’d
usually go out of his way to pout or whine a, “Hey,” to show even a fraction of
his offense.
Because right now, he doesn’t care. He really doesn’t care. He’s humming
intermittently between words he hears, trying to resist the urge to stop moving
and shuffling his feet and scratching his arms from all the nervous energy in
his body.
Those words, repeating over and over in his head. You got it. That statement, I
love you. That name again, baby. He never thought he’d ever get to be someone’s
baby.
And the sex—Shit did they really have sex, he can’t think about it, don’t think
about it, don’t dwell on it right now, not here—but how did that happen, he
never thought that’d happen, he never thought anyone would even want him like
that and—Stop dwelling on it—but he can’t believe it, it’s not real, it can’t
be real-
Sleeping with him and saying they could be lovers-
Stop it stop it stop it quit that right now.
He happens to notice a funny look being sent in his direction, and as soon as
the mission debrief ends—confusing as it was after missing the first part of
it—Megan’s rushing over to him, a bounce in her step and a smile that stretches
her whole face.
“Yes?” Wally nervously asks.
Megan almost giggles to herself, “So, who’s the girl?”
His teammates start laughing.
Wally’s not just blushing this time; he’s turning a deep shade of red.
-
“You seriously got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?” Dick’s elbowing him in the
side.
“Ow,” Wally whines.
“Wow,” Artemis’ voice is a deadpan, and Wally can swear he sees her rolling her
eyes, “What’s she like.”
“Um,” Wally’s already uncomfortable.
“Let’s see, if you’re Kid Stupid, is she like…” she’s continuing, with a slow
shrug, “Just as dumb as you?”
“Artey,” Megan’s eyes grow wide.
“Or maybe she’s too good for you, and is actually smart. Is that it?” Artemis
ends it with a snicker.
Wally sighs, “S-she is too good for me,” with a faint tilt of his head. His
eyes take on a wistful look, as a lazy smile appears on his face. He shakes his
head, that smile lingering, “She’s way too good for me.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Megan puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure
she’s just as adorable as you are,” with a small giggle.
“I’m adorable?” Wally grins at her.
“Hello,” Artemis rolls her eyes.
“Yeah,” Dick coughs, “Girlfriend? Not single anymore?”
“What,” Wally pauses, his eyes widening.
“Don’t flirt with other girls, Kid Dumb,” Artemis crosses her arms across her
chest.
“I wasn’t-” he pauses. Well, maybe he was, “Oh. So-… I. Old habits die hard, I
guess.”
“Geez,” Dick is audibly sighing.
“It’s just that… Nevermind.” He can’t tell them.
Can’t tell them that he’s crushed on Barry for so long that he hasn’t been
flirting seriously with anyone for quite a while. Can’t tell them that Barry
wouldn’t be offended, because he’d take it all as a joke. Can't tell them that
he flirts as a defensive habit, because it covers up for when he feels
especially nervous. Can’t tell them that half of it is bravado-
“Hello, Earth to Kid?” Artemis waves a hand in front of him.
“What,” he frowns at her.
“You’re zoning out,” she clarifies. “Kinda weird.”
“I…”
“It’s because he’s in love,” Megan swoons over his shoulder. “Oh please! Tell
us what she’s like. Do we know her? Well,” she pauses, pressing a finger to her
lips, “I guess I wouldn’t, but,” and lowers her hand away, “Tell me anyway?”
Wally chews on his lip to avoid saying anything embarrassing. He can feel a
blush warming his skin. He momentarily hates that his face always gives him
away.
“Whoa,” Dick’s voice rises up a pitch, “You’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up,” he mumbles.
“Please, Wally?” Megan tries again. “I’ll bake you cookies?”
“Aw, see?” Artemis pats her on the back, “She’ll bake you cookies, Wally. Don’t
you want cookies?”
“Not you too,” he grumbles at them both.
“Me three,” Dick raises a hand.
Wally frowns at him and looks forward, staring straight ahead, to an ominously
quiet Kaldur. Kaldur, who’s been listening in silence, as if contemplating
something. And in that moment, he raises his hand, “Four.”
Wally’s jaw drops, “Come on!”
“I am curious,” he admits.
“Okay, what about…” he pauses. His eyes widen, “Superboy?”
“Sorry,” a low voice from the back of the room. He lowers his hand.
Wally’s shaking his head with a sigh, “You know what, I…”
“Five questions,” Dick suddenly sneaks it in.
“What-”
“Yes! I love that game,” Megan almost jumps for joy. She beams at Artemis,
who’s sending her a skeptical look, “Kaldur taught me about it a few days ago.”
“Only to familiarize her with a popular Earth custom,” he defends cautiously.
Wally grumbles, “I’ve never made you play five questions.”
“I’ve never showed up with a girlfriend,” Dick grumbles back.
“I don’t have a-” he stops. “I-I mean.” Don’t tell them. Can’t tell them.
Can’t even tell them it’s a boy.
“Okay,” he sighs. “But just five.”
-
Did they have to do this while on a mission? Talk about cruel and unusual.
They’re traveling through a dense forest, supposedly keeping an eye out for
trespassers, and Artemis is asking her question first, “So. Is she really too
good for you? And you can’t just say yes, you have to explain why.”
“What,” Wally whines at her as he steps over a bundle of fallen branches,
“That’s like, several questions in one.”
“Wally,” Dick scolds him, “Dodging the question.”
Wally sighs, “Ihatethisgame.” But he gives in, and reluctantly clarifies, “Yes.
…She is. S-she’s smarter, and more experienced-” he stops suddenly, his throat
tensing up.
Too late; Dick is already laughing at him.
“N-no, she’s,” he’s trying to fix that embarrassing revelation, “She’s more
experienced in life, in doing things-”
Shit; Dick is laughing even harder.
“Nextquestionplease,” Wally hisses.
“Hold on,” Kaldur holds up a hand to silence them. They pause.
They wait. To Wally’s disappointment, it’s just a bird making noise in the
trees above. He groans when Megan perks up and moves closer to him.
She doesn’t wait for an invitation. She just asks, “How do you feel when you’re
with her?”
“Aw,” Artemis sighs, “How cute.”
But Megan’s slightly perplexed at her reaction, since she was being completely
serious.
Wally sighs. An image of Barry in his mind and he’s feeling a rush all of a
sudden. Something about that question and…
He shrugs, “Great.”
“What,” Dick elbows him again; this time, Wally doesn’t even flinch. “Not a
good answer, dude.”
“But I don’t even know…”
“Please, Wally?” Megan whines at him.
He sighs. “Okay.” And gives it some serious thought. He leans against a nearby
tree, and pauses for a moment of reflection.
A moment of silent goes by.
“Well?” Artemis sneers at him.
He shakes his head, and when he speaks his voice is calm and cool, almost
soothing in how faint and quiet it is. “He makes me feel happy and alive, like
I can survive anything.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Megan’s sighing.
But he’s being stared at.
“What?” he blinks back at those eyes, catching suspicious looks from Dick and
Artemis in particular. Even Kaldur is frowning to himself, like he’s uncertain
of something.
“Uh…” Dick’s not sure where to start.
“Next question,” Wally growls at them.
“Did you…” Kaldur’s pressing a hand against his forehead, as he looks at him
cautiously, “Just say, he?”
“Did I just say wh…” he takes in a deep breath, and almost forgets to let it
out. “O-oh, I. Slipofthetongue,” he shakes his head.
Dick chimes in, “Are you gay?”
“Is that really your question,” Wally teases.
“Yes,” he stares intently.
Wally tries to send a smartass comment back, but when he tries to speak, his
throat closes up. His lip starts trembling, and his eyes are watering as he has
to look away. He’s looking out into the distance, as his silence answers the
question.
“Whoa,” Dick’s voice fades into a hushed whisper. He leans toward him,
“Really?”
Wally’s looking back slightly; he manages to ease some of the tension in his
face, but it’s no use. It’s not enough to say much. So he manages what he can.
A short and rushed, “Sort of? Not entirely. Not all the time.”
“But right now,” Dick suggests.
Wally just nods.
“Whoa,” but this time it’s Megan. She’s almost cooing at him, surprising Wally
with her genuine radiance, the fact that she’s probably the only happy person
in the group right now. When they found confusion, she found a source of joy. A
reason to smile when she tells him, “You love him a lot, don’t you?”
“Huh,” he asks in a weak voice.
“You’re so…” she tries to explain it, she sighs, “You’re sweet, Wally.”
He doesn’t have the motivation to flirt with her this time. He just smiles
tensely and takes a step forward. “So, how about that mission?”
“Hey, Wally,” Artemis is trying to communicate something that’s not defined by
spite. Something that’s considerably calmer, gentler.
But he’s not in the mood for this discussion anymore.
Except there’s one question left.
“Wally.” Superboy.
“What’s yours,” he sighs.
“What is it like, to date someone?”
They all pause.
Wally gives it a moment of serious thought.
“Well…” he pouts at first, then it eases away, “I just started, so I don’t
really know.”
Artemis is already rolling her eyes.
“But so far, it’s pretty great.”
Curious eyes on him. Because he obviously has something more to say.
“I mean, it’s tough because no one will like it.” He gives a sad shrug, “But
he’s my favorite person in the whole world,” and ends with a smile, “So it’s
like I got everything I wanted.”
Silence. A delicate silence.
Wally shakes his head to clear it. “So yeah, about the mission?”
“Yes, we should continue,” Kaldur affirms.
Wally’s got the others murmuring amongst themselves. He overhears Megan saying
something about how wonderful it is, how jealous she is, how great it sounds,
and Artemis is giving her usual smartass replies. She’s playfully insulting
him, no doubt. Superboy didn’t say a word, but he did nod and murmur something
like, “I get it.” And now he’s walking alongside Kaldur, and he’s asking
Superboy if he was ever taught anything about relationships here on Earth, and
how much, if so.
And someone is poking Wally’s arm. He glances back.
Dick.
“We need to talk.”
-
Wally’s wrapping Dick’s arm in a bandage, as he winces from the momentary pain.
“You’ve gotta be more careful,” Wally’s scolding him.
“You’ve gotta quit dating your Uncle,” Dick snaps back.
Wally pauses. “Dude.”
“Sorry.”
He shakes his head, and clips the bandage in place. “It’s okay,” but he really
doesn’t mean that. Because he knows it’s just the first of many remarks. Some
more cruel than others, all bound to hurt.
“But seriously, it’s creepy,” he emphasizes.
“Okay,” as he stands up, stretching his arms out.
“No, really.”
“Okay,” he sighs.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not,” he shrugs, “But it’s okay.”
Wally’s learned that support is not something he’ll always receive, so he won’t
demand it.
“No, I mean it. Sorry,” Dick frowns at him.
Wally’s learned that sometimes a friend will say what you want to hear, even if
it’s a lie.
“It’s okay. Really,” he sends a good-natured smile in his direction. “I
understand. I know it’s weird,” he slides back his cowl, and runs a hand
through his hair. He’s frowning to himself, “I didn’t expect you to like it.”
“I’m kind of grossed out,” Dick admits.
“Dude.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“It’s okay.”
It’s not.
“You sure?”
It’s really not.
“Yeah.”
-
When Wally arrives home, his legs are heavy. He’s moving in slow motion,
managing to make it as far as the couch until he collapses against it, his face
buried in the pillows when he hears the front door being pushed shut. Oh.
That’s right, he forgot to close it.
“Wally,” a gentle voice, his gentle voice, “Are you okay?”
He sighs, “Yeah.”
He hears a small laugh, but it’s not happy. Barry knows he’s lying. He feels
the couch shift beneath him, feels the sound of the man breathing as he sits
down beside him. “What’s wrong.”
Silence.
“Wally?” a hand pressed against his back, a gentle nudge.
“Mm,” it’s more a question than an answer.
“What’s wrong?”
Wally gives a low groan, “Dick knows.”
“He knows?”
His voice muffled by the pillows, “He knows about us.”
“Oh, that.” A pause. “Is he… He doesn’t like it, does he?”
“He hates it,” Wally whines.
“That… that’s too bad.”
“I’m finally happy,” Wally’s got more of a whine left in him, “I’m so happy,
and my best friend hates it.”
“You’re happy,” Barry can’t help it. He can’t help focusing on that. It stands
out. It’s important.
“So happy,” he sighs.
Barry’s hand starts to massage his back, as it slides beneath the edge of his
shirt. Initially, Wally shivers from the surprise of his touch. But he’s
quickly calming down, muscles relaxing as that firm hand starts to trace up and
down his spine, fingers massaging in small circles along the way.
Up and down, as Wally’s sighing pleasantly.
Barry tells him, “I’m glad.”
“Are you,” a faint murmur.
“Am I what?”
“Are you happy,” Wally almost sounds… sad. Hesitantly somber, like he doesn’t
expect the answer to satisfy him. He doesn’t expect to hear anything good. He
doesn’t expect to hear something uplifting.
But it is.
“Yes.” He smiles, even if he can’t see it, “I’m happier than I’ve been in a
long time.”
Wally’s almost purring beneath his touch, eyes closed as Barry places his other
hand against his back, and starts to massage with both of them.
“You make me very happy.”
“I love you, Barry.”
The ease with which he said it. That ease…
“I love you too.”
Wally’s falling silent again. His breathing’s slowing down.
“But what should I tell Dick,” he complains.
“Tell him to ask Bruce.”
“What,” Wally’s eyes fly open.
“Tell him to ask Bruce.”
“W-why?”
Barry laughs quietly. “Because,” he runs his hands down Wally’s back one more
time, and traces them back up, slower now, pressing a tad deeper as he feels
the boy cringing pleasantly beneath his touch, “We’ve talked about this
before.”
“About us?”
“Yep,” he acknowledges, almost too calmly. But he’s still holding back some
nervous laughter. “He noticed I was acting strange. He kind of… pieced it
together that I was… interested.”
“Like Dick,” Wally groans.
“Hey, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Unfortunately.”
Barry laughs.
-
“He’s just a kid, Barry,” he’s being scolded appropriately. As he should be. By
someone far smarter than him. Someone better than him. Someone that wouldn’t
fall into this sort of trap.
But it’s too late, now. Can’t he see that? It’s too late now.
“I know he is,” he sighs. Crosses his arms as he leans back against the wall,
eyes idly wandering to the giant television monitors, as he watches who appears
to be Superman wandering through the Justice League station.
“Does he know the consequences,” stern and tense.
Barry pauses. “Elaborate?”
“Consequences. Dick was… upset. His other friends shouldn’t react any better to
the news.”
“I-I know that, Bruce-”
“But does he. Is he prepared.”
“I think… If I help him through it…”
“Our peers… they’ll be disappointed in you, as well.”
“I know,” he sighs. “God, I know they will.”
“It’s soon after Iris’ death. I recommend taking more time to grieve.”
“Before what?” he pauses.
But that’s not directly answered. It’s only implied. “You should consider what
you’re doing. To guarantee it’s not an impulsive attempt to deal with your
loss.”
“No,” his eyes grow wide, “No. I know it isn’t.”
Silence. He’s listening for a better explanation. He’s patient when he needs to
be.
Barry’s watching him now, staring at a man who’s surprisingly easy to approach
with his fearsome cowl pulled back. A man whose eyes are dark but calm, face
sharp but neutral as he stares back with a significant lack of critical
reaction, an almost surprising lack of judgment. An overwhelming rationality.
“Come on, Bruce,” he sighs. “You know I… You know how long I’ve liked him.”
“I recall that, yes.”
“W-well, then…”
“I find it to be as reckless and dangerous now, as it was then.”
Barry frowns at him. “How can you say that…”
“You’re endangering his well-being.”
“But you know I’d never hurt him-”
“You’re not the risk, Barry,” he uses his name in a rare moment of heavy
emphasis, “What’s dangerous is the collective opinion of everyone else.”
“Can’t we just…” he sighs. “Can’t it be a secret, then.”
“Do you believe that’s possible.”
The way he says it, means he doesn’t think it is.
Barry’s sighing again, because he knows he’s completely right.
“I’ll take the blame, then. Tell them it’s my fault, if they find out.”
“And what about Wally, with his team-”
“Can’t you talk to Dick? He’s your… I mean, not exactly, but he’s almost like
your son. If anyone can talk sense into him-”
“That would solve little.”
“It would help Wally’s teammates to understand. Just a little.” His hands are
waving around, like he’s trying to coax the air into believing him, “They
respect him, Bruce. They’d listen to him, if he really tried…”
Uncharacteristically, Bruce sighs. It’s a foreign sound from him, lacking
volume, more of a deep breath than a sound.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I realize that.”
“Make sure he understands.”
“And? Then what?” He grins cheekily, “You’ve gotta have more to offer me. Come
on, throw me a bone here.”
“If he agrees. If he consents.” He pauses.
Barry waits, almost scared to hear what he’s going to say next.
A hand cautiously pressed against his mouth, as he idly bites his fingers for a
brief instant in time, before pulling it away. He’s looking at Barry with an
expression that’s more considerate than he has been, his eyes relaxing
slightly. “If you are prepared for the consequences.”
“Yes,” Barry almost whines.
“I will do what I can.”
“Bruce…”
“I can speak with the League. I can argue your case, but don’t expect a
miracle. Life doesn’t work that way.”
“Bruce, I… I don’t know what to say,” he wants to smile, but he’s too startled.
A strange tug at his heart, like he’s slowly, slowly being overwhelmed.
“Say that you’re prepared.”
“Yes, sir,” he nods.
“Get ready for the fallout.”
-
When Wally leaves for school in the morning, he gives Barry a hug and a kiss
goodbye. Barry wishes him a good day, and Wally smiles back that he’ll try his
best. And even when school sucks, even when the day is too long and the hours
are miserable and boring, he can sit in that monotonous silence and feel a
pleasant buzz, the kind of buzz that starts in his heart and dances through his
entire being.
When Wally goes on missions, it’s not as difficult as he imagined it’d be. It’s
not as awful as he expected. His friends look at him funny, if he gets too
lovesick. If he acts too giddy. Megan finds it adorable, and Superboy is mostly
confused. He still asks strange questions. Questions like, “How do you date
someone that’s older than you,” and “If he’s your Uncle and your boyfriend,
does he act more like a boyfriend or an Uncle.” That was a fun one.
Dick’s not used to it. Not yet. He’s waiting. Waiting, waiting.
But it’s worth it. The stress. The tension.
When he arrives home, and Barry kisses him, he feels a joy that renders him
speechless. A joy that becomes more than one kiss, a series of kisses that
becomes touching, feeling, hugging, holding and cuddling together, often
falling into the couch and grinding against each other amidst the licks and
kisses and touches and fondling and tasting and teasing and eventual sex.
It’s not a bad life.
Sometimes they’ll lay on that couch, tangled in each other for hours. Kissing,
touching, basking in heat and sweat and trying to cool down from the frenzy.
Television on in the background, quiet and low, the useless air conditioning
rattling in the walls.
They’ll kiss some more. Shower, at some point. Rush through a large dinner, to
sustain them for several hours. Because Barry has patrol to go on, and Wally
usually has homework to occupy himself with in those last few hours of the
night. Now that Barry’s getting more involved in League activities, back to
being the active member he used to be, he’s coming home later and later.
When he does arrive home, Wally’s usually already asleep. Barry’s considerate
of that fact, moving silently through his nighttime routine, careful not to
disturb him when he crawls into the bed beside him. But Wally likes to be woken
up, so he doesn’t feel lonely while he sleeps. So Barry gives him a small nudge
on his shoulder, or a kiss on his face, something gentle and kind. Wally stirs
slightly, just enough to know he’s there, and either smiles or sighs pleasantly
when he says, “Goodnight, Barry.” And the reply, “Goodnight, baby,” with an arm
around him as he moves in closer.
Goodnight, baby. He never gets tired of saying it.
When Barry wakes up in the morning, Wally’s already prepared coffee. He’s
responsible like that. On his days off he often does laundry while he works on
homework. He kept the habit of dusting the room when he’s restless. When he’s
out on a long mission, he’ll call him discreetly, to check in.
Barry answers his phone with a casual, “Hey, baby,” once he’s alone enough to
talk.
He talks to him like his lover. No, not just that. His partner. They’ve been
over this, now. They’ve discussed this. Decided it.
Wally calls his mother sometimes. He occasionally visits home. But his parents
know he doesn’t intend to stay.
He didn’t tell them about him and Barry. Will never tell them about him and
Barry. He will go to the grave with that secret. But it’s remarkably easy to
hide. Once he told them he was seeing a boy, once they decided he was
gay—ignoring the fact that he’s bisexual, as he tried to say—they lost interest
in meeting his boyfriend. “As long as you’re happy,” his mother had even
remarked. Of course he was.
He was, he was.
Dick does come around eventually. It’s just not easy. It’s never easy. And it
takes a difficult confession on Dick’s part, to make any of it possible.
Dick is as uncomfortable as he had been. “I… think I understand,” he says.
“Why now, all of a sudden?” Wally can’t hide his skepticism.
Before them, Gotham lights are sparkling in the distance. The night air is cold
and quiet, save for the distant roar of traffic, the shaking tracks of a
railway train echoing through the city.
When Dick says it, he almost sounds scared. “I think I get it. Sort of.”
“How,” because he’s too scared to believe it.
“I…” his voice is smaller and tinier than Wally had ever heard it before. “I
think I like boys.”
Wally’s eyes widen. He tries to suppress his immediate giggle, “Really?”
“Don’ttellanybody,” he hushes him immediately.
Wally’s giggling a little, as he says, “Okay. But that’s not the same thing
as…”
“Wait.”
“What,” Wally stares back in silence.
“You’re okay with it? Just like that?”
“Yeah,” Wally nods slowly. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be?”
Dick stares back at him; blinks once, before he looks away in what appears to
be shame. “Oh. Wally…”
“Yeah?”
“Is it that easy to just… accept someone?”
Wally tilts his head.
“I mean, you’re so… I just told you I… I might be gay.”
“Yeah,” Wally nods.
“And you’re… okay with it.”
“Totally.”
Dick sighs. But as he remains silent, a smile forms at the edge of his lips.
“Thanks.”
“No problem-”
“And sorry.”
“For what…”
“You’re not disgusting. And it’s really not that creepy. Barry's not that bad,
and I guess... if he's nice to you... I.. I get it.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.”
Dick elbows him in the side.
“Oww,” he whines.
“You don’t think I could come around?”
“I don’t know?” but he’s laughing.
“Give me some credit. I’m your bro,” he emphasizes.
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles to himself. “Okay, so you are my bro…”
“Yeah, duh,” Dick rolls his eyes.
“Now tell me about the boy you like.”
For the first time since he’s known him, Dick’s face turns red.
“Whoa,” Wally’s eyes grow wide. “You’ve got it-”
“Don’t even say it,” he hisses.
“Bad,” Wally grins.
-
“They found out,” Wally’s voice is soft and delicate, as he trails his hands
over Barry’s shoulders.
“Yes,” he moves in closer, his face settling against his lover’s chest as they
sink into the bed.
“Are they mad at you,” Wally’s concern is evident. A hand winding itself in
Barry’s hair; his breathing is slowing down.
But Barry’s is speeding up; just a tad, the hint of an erratic beat. A stress.
A tension. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” Wally’s running his hands down along his back, massaging in
circles.
But Barry’s laughing, of all things.
“What,” Wally whines at him.
Barry’s tone amused and playful, “That’s cute. I like that.”
Honey.
“Keep that one.”
Wally scolds him. “Barry,” even as he masks his own amusement, “Remember, we
were talking? About something important?”
“I love you,” Barry suggests as a change of topic.
“Barry.”
“Relax, baby. It’ll be okay.”
Because in time, it will be.
Because Barry has learned that life really does work like that. Sometimes you
can get what you want. Sometimes you can have what you ask for.
Sometimes the person you love can genuinely, deeply, honestly love you back.
Even when you endure a great loss. When everything you know is shattered, what
little remains in place, what little remains and intensifies- When his love for
Wally remained in his heart and grew into something beautiful.
“I love you,” he says it again; he’s being sincere this time.
Wally laughs softly, and kisses the side of his face.
“I love you too, honey.”
-
Sometimes Barry still thinks of Iris.
He remembers the night of their honeymoon especially, when they stood out on a
balcony that overlooked the ocean. Watched the moon fall into the ocean,
watched the waves swell and rise with a coming storm. Felt the warm wind
against their faces, and laughing, stepped back inside. Closed the windows and
watched a storm fall across the shore, trees swaying, leaves flying everywhere,
flower petals scattered through the air.
He wrapped his arms around her, and told her he was the happiest man alive.
And at the time, he was. He was happier than he’d ever been. There was no
memory he’d ever experienced, nothing that compared to the pride in his heart,
the warmth in his chest, the joy in his soul when he’d see the ring on her
finger. Kiss her smiling mouth, hear her pleasant laugh, and the way it’d fill
the room. He was listening to her teasing about the storm, daring him to run
out into it, to see how long he could stand out there.
“That might be a hurricane,” he laughed. “I might get carried away.”
“Barry Allen,” she’d scolded him, “You’d better call if you get carried too
far.”
He’d laughed. Laughing came easy, in those days.
It wasn’t easy to laugh anymore. Not since she passed on. Not for a while
after. It wasn’t easy to laugh when members of the League would send him dirty
looks, thinking he’d moved on too fast. The politely buried looks of
disappointment when they found out he was messing around with his sidekick. The
angry rants and tirades sent in his direction, cruel names being thrown around,
judgments that belittled what he felt, what Wally felt, what they were both
capable of.
But when they’re alone together…
When they’re alone together, it reminds him of a better time. A time when
laughing didn’t hurt. When it wasn’t impossible to feel light, to feel happy,
to sink against someone and listen to them breathing without any regret or
concerns in the world.
When they’re alone together, he can laugh, and laugh.
A storm in the distance, heavy winds wrapping around them as he and Wally are
hiding in an alley, for the worst of it to roll by. Winds do heavy damage when
you move too fast; it’ll throw you off-course. So they’re waiting, and he’s
listening to the trees bending, the branches creaking, the leaves scattering-
He sneaks a kiss to his lover’s face, discreetly, quickly.
When Wally looks at him, he still feels a flutter in his chest.
It reminds him of how he felt with Iris, but it’s not the same at all.
Wally’s smiling at him, saying he’s silly, even as he hides his blush and turns
away.
“I am so happy to be with you,” that’s what he told her, on the sunlit
afternoon when he married her. And he meant it. He meant it more than he’d ever
meant anything before. His happiness with her was distinctly different than any
kind of happiness he will ever feel with Wally.
But that’s okay. Because it’s not more or less powerful. It’s equally as
profound. Equally as beautiful. Equally as stunning. It has the same power; to
shift his world, to make him feel unsteady and dazed when he looks at him for
too long, when their hands brush against each other, when he leans against his
chest. When he holds him, he feels a new happiness, one he’s never known
before.
Because this is the joy he feels with Wally. This love is different than any
other. He will never love anyone, in the same way he loves him.
He’s able to let Iris go. He's reached a point where he can look at the
anniversary of her death without wanting to cry. He’s accepted that he will
never love anyone in the same way he loved her. He will never feel the way he
felt around her, that exact way, ever again.
But what he feels now is equally as beautiful.
Three months ago, his world came to a halt. His life slowed to a crawl. It hurt
to move, hurt to breathe, hurt to exist. But now…
Now…
He pulls Wally close; a whisper in his ear, “Thank you.”
-
Woke up and wished that I was dead, with an aching in my head. I lay motionless
in bed. The night is here and the day is gone, and the world spins madly on.
I thought of you and where you'd gone...
And the world spins madly on.
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