#Me squinting at Wally for a half hour like

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

What's better than ice cream with a friend?

[kiseiakhun]

For long, long seconds, Roy considers ignoring the shrill beep at his bedside. And then he groans and rolls over, groping for his phone and squinting at the bright glare. K. Rayner, it says, to his mild alarm. He can't remember the last time he talked to Kyle one on one. Years, probably. If he's calling it must be important.

"H'llo?" He asks, staring directly at the dim night light to try and wake himself up.

"Roy!" In contrast to his sleep-rough rasp, Kyle sounds way too chipper. "You said Hal was sort of like your second dad, right? I'm so sorry."

"... did you seriously call me at," he pulls the phone away from his cheek, glancing at the time, "three in the morning just to say that?"

"What? No. Of course not. Why would I do that?" Kyle's words trip into each other like they can't come out fast enough. "Look, uh." And then he falls quiet.

Roy waits.

And waits.

And waits.

"Rayner."

"Don't get mad, okay?"

"Kyle," Roy almost snaps, in the same tone he uses when Lian gets too rambunctious.

"Okay, so." Another too-long beat of silence. "Do you know why Hal would just... leave out the window after we... uh..."

Roy tries to not jump to conclusions. He really tries. "After you...?"

"After we, uh. We. Are you really going to make me say it?"

"You slept with Hal?!"

"Hey," Kyle says defensively, "you said you wouldn't be mad!"

"... and he jumped out the window?"

"Well, not right after, but - but. Yeah." Kyle groans. "What the fuck, Roy? Why would he do that?"

Roy can't help it. He laughs. He laughs and doesn't stop laughing for at least a solid minute. "Oh, man," he says, once he stops, "you must be an awful lay."

"You know I'm not!" Kyle had been waiting in sullen silence, and he sounds nothing if not like a petulant teenager. Roy can picture him pouting on the other side of the line. "It was good! It was - it was really, really good, actually, and then he just," and his tone abruptly drops from animated to sounding like a kicked puppy, "and then he just left."

Roy wipes the tears from his eyes and tries to be serious, because Kyle does sound a little upset, but mostly he just seems baffled. "Sorry, man, I don't know. You could ask Ollie."

"I am not asking Ollie." And now he sounds horrified.

"Dinah?"

"You're no help," Kyle groans.

"Did he really go out the window? He didn't leave a note or anything?"

"No," Kyle bit out. "And that was half an hour ago, so I'm pretty sure he's not coming back."

"Sorry. I'll ask him if I see him again."

"Don't - you know what? Sure. Go ahead and ask him."

"Could be mind control," Roy says absently, wondering how much Kyle would kill him if he told Wally. And Hal, actually. Hal would kill him first. Nah, the risk is not worth it. ...maybe. Maybe it's a little worth it. "Maybe you should suit up and check that he's not lying in a ditch somewhere. Or a zombie. Or-"

"Well, that's horrifying." Something clicks in the background as Kyle presumably pushes open the same window Hal had left out of half an hour ago. "You really think that's possible?"

"Stranger things have happened."

Kyle makes a dubious hum. "Great. I've never worried about sex zombies in my life, but now I'm worried. Thanks."

"It's not the sex zombies you should worry about," Roy says in the tone of someone who knows too much, "it's the people with too many feathers."

"I can't tell if you're fucking with me or not."

"And if anyone tries to fuck you in a cave, just don't. Don't do it."

"I'm hanging up before you can give me any more nightmares."

"Say hi to Hal for me!"

"Goodbye, Roy."

[fryingpan1234567]

oh my gods I should be asleep but I can’t NOT write this

SHREEPY BATBOYS

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally West and Roy Harper were two of the hottest, most heroic, ginger-ish people to walk the planet.

Jason and Dick’s opinions, obviously.

Because to Tim and Damian, Conner and Jon Kent were the the most gorgeous and bright people in their worlds- and those types of people are far and few between.

It’s a rare occurrence when the Batboys’ partners are all in one place, but it is quite the sight to behold. Especially to the Waynes, who watched the interaction with more affection than any of them thought was possible.

“No, no, the Speed Force doesn’t take energy,” Wally was trying to explain to the other three, to pretty much no avail. “It gives it. It’s like… a semi-conscious stasis chamber with a little bit of heaven thrown in, I guess. Kind of.”

“That is…” Conner paused, searching for the words. “Strange. As someone who spent a good portion of his life in a stasis chamber.”

Jon, who was floating nonchalantly above Roy’s head as he cleaned his gun, made a face. “That’s kind of weird to think about in itself.”

“Are they trying to send me into an existential crisis?” Jason stage-whispered to Tim and Dick.

Tim shrugged as Dick continued making heart eyes at his nerdy boyfriend.

The group of them were hanging out in one of the many living rooms scattered throughout Wayne Manor, and the other four hadn’t quite caught on that they were being watched.

Not creepily, of course. The Waynes were too focused on such a pure interaction to be plotting anything (even Damian).

“I do not think they have noticed us yet,” Dami mused, in the same low tone, but it was a callout. A challenge.

“I know you’re there,” Jon immediately said, taking the bait. Dami and Tim exchanged a look.

“Well, it sure would be a shame if a super-boyfriend of mine had the super-hearing to listen in on this conversation about how adorable he is,” Tim added.

Damian leaned on Tim’s shoulder casually. “Very embarrassing,” he agreed.

Unfortunately, that bit of the conversation had not been spoken quietly enough for the others to not hear. As Conner shot what he thought was a covert wink in Tim’s direction (it was not covert in any way), Roy glared over at Jason and jokingly pointed the half assembled gun in his direction.

“Cheating on me with a Kent?” he said. Jason shook his head and beckoned Roy closer. “Low blow, Hood.”

“I’d never,” Jay said dramatically as Roy climbed into his lap, leaning in.

“PDA!” Tim screeched suddenly, throwing a pillow at them. Wally, Dick, Conner, and Jon lost their shit laughing.

“Would-“ Damian’s sentence was abruptly cut off with a positively massive yawn, putting even Titus to shame. “Apologies. Would anyone happen to know-?”

“When was the last time you slept??” Jon cut him off, leaning in and squinting suspiciously. Tim averted Conner’s gaze, as he guessed the conversation that was about to happen.

Dami shrugged. “I do not remember. I do not require fickle things such as sleep to function well.”

Experimentally, Jon gently ran a hand through Damian’s hair, who immediately collapsed against him and nearly passed out.

“Sure you don’t,” Jon mused. Dami could only manage a half hearted swat in his general direction.

“Tim,” Conner said, executing the previous prediction, “what about you? When did you last sleep?”

“Uhh.” Tim tried to come up with a number that was believable but an acceptable amount of sleep in Kon’s eyes. “Like. Maybe a little over twenty four hours ago?”

“Lies,” Wally declared. Tim shot him a death glare. “You’ve been with me and the Titans for two days and I can confirm you didn’t sleep a wink for any of that.”

As Jason yawned too, Roy laughed and ruffled his hair. “Looks like our Batboys need some sleep, yeah?” he suggested.

Damian was already out cold in Jon’s side, who hadn’t stopped playing with his hair since he figured out what it triggered, and Tim was zoned out like normal these days. Dick only had to take one look at the newly sleepy atmosphere of the room his siblings had created before keeling over into Wally’s lap, eliciting a muffled laugh from the speedster. Jason groaned, but moved around to lay down on the couch rather than sit, dragging Roy with him until Roy was laying on top of him like a weighted blanket and all eight of them managed to fit onto one couch.

A few hours later, at four in the afternoon, Bruce and Alfred stumbled upon the scene in the living room while searching for the boys.

Eight superkids were passed out on one couch, all tangled up and looking unfairly comfortable.

Bruce just sighs as Alfred hums approvingly, and Steph and Cass and Cara sneak up to take blackmail pictures of Damian cuddled up to both of Superman’s sons and his older brothers in one go, not to mention Jason getting anywhere near anyone other than Roy.

It was a nice moment, but then their sleep schedules were all totally fucked for like three weeks after that XD.

[thescatterbrainedwriter]

Crossed Wires pt.2

Flash Fanfic

——

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~2,000

Pairings: Oc x Canon

***Note: Emily is my own creation, I just like sticking her in random places***

——

They popped back up in the living room of Nash’s place, Harry holding onto Emily for a moment when they touched ground again not really wanting to let her go. “You good?” she asked making sure his footing was stable. “Yup, I’m good,” Harry assured. “You sure?” She asked with a smirk lifting their still joined hands. “Mhmm,” he repeated still holding on. Her heart skipped when he smirked making her tense for a second. “Ok, good,” she said letting his hand go and moving to take her shoes off. “So, I’m assuming you may be hungry? Want anything?” She asked making her way to the kitchen. “No, I’m ok for now,” he dismissed shaking his head. After taking off his shoes and jacket he followed her to the kitchen. Her heart rate picked up as he got closer and she bit her lip trying to keep herself together. “Theeeeen what.... did you waaaaanna do?” Harry shrugged. “I dunno,” he stated casually somewhat amused at her discomfort. It was his turn to make her blush and he was going to have fun with it.

“Ok, well, I’m gonna go.... make a snack. Or something. Should probably calibrate and affix your neural scanner first though.”

“Oh right, yeah. Should probably... do that....” he said pulling out the device and handing it to her. He followed her into the kitchen and took a seat, Emily standing in front of him given he was so tall even on a chair. As she concentrated making sure everything was in order, Harry studied her with a smile that slowly got wider the longer she took. He saw her brows furrow, her eyes fixate on her task, pupils dilate, mouth pouted and even her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth a little. “Hmmkay... that should do it,” she said completing affixing the small device to his forehead. Smiling satisfied she caught him looking at her with soft eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked.

“Just... watching you concentrate,” Harry said with a shrug. “You know, you stick your tongue out and your pupils dilate when you zone out?” He smiled leaning forward and pointing at her. Emily smiled embarrassedly putting her hand in his face to push him away. “Pfffff— stop... staring at meeee,” she whines with a giggle. “Das rude!”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Harry teased grabbing her hand and removing it from impeding his vision. Emily squinted before licking her other palm and planting it square in the middle of his face prompting him to release her hand in order to wipe the saliva off. She took the opportunity to retreat away all the while giggling at his sounds of disgust. “Uuuugh, why!” He complained.

“I need my hand to make snacks, how else was I supposed to get you to let go?”

“You could have asked!”

“Were you really gonna let it go?”

Harry paused. “.....yes, I would have.”

“You hesitated!” Emily accused pointing at him from across the table squinting suspiciously.

“I would have! ...... Eventually.....” Harry admitted sheepishly. “Mhmm, yeah sure,” she said with a smirk. “Anyway, I’m gonna go change into comfy pj’s and then make a snack. Technically this is your place too so go get comfortable or something. I’ll be back.” She poked her head back out of the door she had just disappeared into after a brief pause. “Don’t worry, I’ll wear pants this time,” she assured and grinned. Harry grinned with a nervous chuckle still sitting at the table and she disappeared again. He sat steeping in uncertainty, his ears beginning to burn as he debated telling her what was on his mind the entire time she was gone today. When she wandered back into the kitchen muttering her nightly to-do list he decided to blurt it out. As she said, how often would he get this opportunity again?

“Hey Emily,” he said quickly standing nearly tipping over the chair. Emily’s head snapped over to him in surprise having been jolted from her thoughts by both his voice and the noise of the chair. “Ack! Oh, you ok?”

“Yeah, ah, I’m fine,” he dismissed righting the chair and breezing over to her. “I.... have spent a lot of time thinking. Today. W-while you were.... out....”

“Ok?” she said raising an eyebrow curiously and leaned against the table. “Whaaaaat was it you thought about and conclusion did you come to? If you came to one.” Harry paused before averting his gaze and scratched his face. “Well.... as you can imagine,” he started. “Things were, well quite a lot for me to take in. Today.”

“Mhmm, though you handled it rather well from what I understand.”

“Yeah, well, I guess..... I guess a few... wires, may have been crossed. So to say.”

“I would say so, yeah,” Emily affirmed.

“No, you don’t understand, it’s more than just me being front and center. I’m talking about......” he paused, his breath seeming to catch and he felt really rather warm now. “Harry?” Emily said concerned.

“Emily I.... I think.... I think I’ve been, feeling things.” Harry stuttered trying to explain himself. “And I spent a lot, and I mean a lot, of time thinking it over because I wanted to make sure it was not just carry over from Nash or....” he looked up at her making eye contact, eyes both apprehensive and anxious. “Or me....” Emily’s heart stopped and her cheeks became rosy. “Whaaaat do you mean?” she asked trying to keep her voice level.

“Well, I— as I’ve said— I was doing quite a lot of thinking today, and going over past memories and doing a bit of.... self reflection I.... I guess. And I came to the conclusion that..... that......” Emily’s eyes grew wide in anticipation and she barely breathed waiting for him to speak. Harry relaxed his shoulders and his face softened. “I love you.” Her breath caught and all she could do was stare at him. “I know, I know,” Harry said after the awkward silence, “this is a really bad time to be bringing that up but, I just..... I was afraid and then Earth 2 was destroyed by the Anti-Monitor and..... and I really regret not telling you sooner.”

A tiny smile cracked Emily’s face and she looked down at the floor scratching her head. “And here I was thinking I scared you off....” she muttered. “Wait, you....?” Harry asked. “Yeaahhh,” she said smiling at him shyly. “But, I mean, you took your wife’s death hard and I thought at some points in time I was over stepping soooo...... I did my best to quash them. The feelings, I mean.” Harry smiled and sighed. “Mixed signals, god I hate those...”

“Eh well, I was.... admittedly, a little scared too,” Emily explained. “Being ripped away at any point and all that doesn’t exactly make for eager relationship mentality.”

“You know people go through a similar fear, called death, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.... I know. I’ve been told the before believe it or not,” Emily followed, “But by that logic, I’ve been through that pain, and inflicted that same pain, half a dozen times at the least. Does that indicate someone who would want to make another connection only to hurt someone like that?”

“No, not really,” Harry admitted. “So then.... why Nash?” Emily pursed her lips and shifted very wide eyes to the sides. “I..... guess I have a type? I’m sure Sherloque could relate,” she smiled a cheesy smile. “Besides, in case you didn’t notice, he had to do an awful lot of convincing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed. “Didn’t hesitate like I did either.”

“No, no he was.... quite persistent. Took him a while to pluck up the courage though.” Emily smiled and Harry mirrored it. “Soooo, then I have a..... question. For you,” he said slowly walking over like he was embarrassed or too shy. “Can I kiss you?” He asked after a hesitated pause. Emily tensed at the question and chewed on her top lip trying to keep goosebumps from erupting all over. “Why don’t you, try and find out?” She asked smirking a little with hints of deviousness. Harry’s heart stopped, he half expected a yes but didn’t think it would come in the form of a challenge. Tentatively he leaned forward after shaking off his surprise and met her lips with his. They stayed like that for a moment letting the kiss linger between them as they absorbed the tingling feeling that came with it. “So that’s what I missed, hmm?” he commented after they parted. “You’re not half bad yourself,” Emily observed with a smile. Harry chuckled. “If Jessie saw me now. By the way, have you seen her? How is she?”

Emily’s smile dropped a bit. “I.... I uh....”

Harry’s entire face dropped noticing her change in body langue. “Jessie.....”

“I haven’t seen her since, uh, since the universes merged,” Emily admitted causing Harry to turn away, she thought he would pass out with how pale he became. “But! Buuuuut, that doesn’t meeeean she doesn’t exist anymore,” she said rubbing his shoulder, he leaned over the table and stared at the surface with a blank expression. “Cisco traveled around to study and catalog all the changes that have showed up including new metas. And we haven’t seen Wallie around in a while, it’s possible they’ve come across her.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you, uhm, make a list of things you’d.... like me to ask her. When I do find her, hmm?” she asked trying to distract him.

“Yeah.... yeah I’ll.... I think I’ll do that.” Harry nodded. He slowly shuffled his way into the bedroom and sat on the bed. *Yet another thing to absorb,* he thought to himself.

“I’ll be out here if you need me. For anything,” Emily assured with a gentle smile. Harry nodded and she closed the door to give him quiet. *I think now would be an opportune time for brownies,* she thought to herself. *Not that there’s ever a wrong time for them.* She smiled to herself and headed off to raid the cupboards for ingredients.

——

Harry wasn’t sure how long he sat in the quiet room, but he knew it was an hour at the very least by the ringing now very pronounced in his ears. He had compiled a short list of things he wanted to know about Jessie, short for him anyway, mainly pertaining to how she was doing to making sure she was taking care of herself and he wished to tell her he loved her. He also wrote down a few things he wanted Emily to do for him occasionally in regard to keeping an eye on her. Rubbing his face with a hand he sighed deeply, too much thinking and digestion of information for one day had made him very tired and for once he really wanted to not think about anything. He decided to exit the room and find Emily to see what she had found to make for a snack, and what she considered a snack.

Peeking out of the door he first found a smell of chocolate wafting through the air, then heard humming coming from Emily and similar buzzing from a drone or two. Coming closer to the kitchen, he heard bare feet tapping on the floor and laughter every now and then. He stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame watching with a smile, and after a short while Emily happened to turn enough to catch him watching. “What are you doing waaay over there?” She asked with a giggle.

“Oh, you know. Watching,” he replied.

“Being a creeper, eh?” She smiled making her way over to him. “Creeper? What?” He responded in mock insult. She smiled a little wider. “Creeeeeep-errrrrr,” she said and poked his nose leaving a substance on it. Recoiling at the unknown, Harry touched it to find it was brown and smooth in texture. “Fudge?” He asked confused.

Emily grinned again making her way back over to the counter. “Fudge brownies! My favorite, and guaranteed to cheer anyone up,” she said gesturing dramatically to the still hot bake pan. Harry followed and inspected her handiwork. “Is it all done?” He asked. Emily nodded. “Yup, should be cooled enough t— hey wait, what are you doing?” she asked suddenly noticing Harry move to put his entire open hand right on top of the fudge icing she had finished spreading moments ago. Before she could stop him he firmly planted it in the middle of the pan thoroughly coating it. “Ahh! No, my brownies!!” She near screeched. “Why did y—“ her sentence was cut off by the sudden chocolatey hand plopped into the middle of her face. She froze in disbelief leaving Harry to just smile smugly. “For calling me a butthead earlier,” he explained noting her questioning look. “And the saliva handprint.” Emily’s shoulders dropped. “Fair,” she relented. “But did you really have to ruin such beautiful brownies?”

“I really had to ruin your beautiful brownies,” he confirmed. “But are they really ruined? I think they look better.”

“You know, this isn’t what is meant when the request for a hand is given,” Emily replied washing her face. “So I’ll not ask you for a hand in anything any time soon because of this.” She sighed when she turned and saw him proceed to lick all the icing off his hand. “You want a towel or something instead?”

Harry shook his head. “And waste all this fudge? Never,” he smirked. “Want some?” he asked holding his hand to her face. Emily gave him an unimpressed look fueling his smugness before gripping his wrist and licking from the base of his palm up to the end of his middle finger. Harry swore his heart stopped, he did not anticipate a reaction like that in the least. “Mmm, yum. I love fudge, so much. Good call,” she said with a wink. Harry just stared at her as she casually started cleaning her baking mess like nothing happened. “You’re dangerous,” he commented finding his voice again. “I dunno what you’re talking about,” she replied feigning innocence. He squinted at her with a pause before washing his hand, no way was he risking something like that again. *She seemed too confident doing that,* he thought. *I’ll bet Nash instigates that behavior a lot.*

“So, did you manage to make a list?” Emily asked after a brief silence. Harry paused letting the water run down his hands. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” Emily replied finishing wiping down the counter. Smiling she turned around. “Now, eat a feel good brownie, properly this time, and then we can go to bed. No more thinking today, sound good?” Harry nodded with a relieved smile. “Yes, very.” Emily stayed in the kitchen while Harry left to change, brownie in hand, and wandered around closing up for the night. When she made her way to the bedroom, she found him staring off into space sitting on one side of the bed. “Hey,” she said breaking his concentration. “I thought I said no more thinking?”

“Ah, right. Sorry, couldn’t help it I guess,” he said with a chuckle before settling into bed. Emily gave a sympathetic look and made her way to the other side. “Alright, tell me what’s on your mind,” she said sliding under the covers and settling in herself. He looked over making eye contact and his face softened almost immediately at her quiet concerned but attentive look. “Too much,” he says with a sigh. “But, I think mostly, I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” She asked scooting a bit closer to him. He sighed again turning on his side to face her. “I’m.... I’m afraid of being lost. I’m afraid to go to sleep because I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to manifest again. That never crossed my mind before today.” Emily sighed softly and gently place a hand on his cheek. “The stubborn and persistent Harry? You’re too assertive to ever disappear.” He chuckled sadly continuing to look at her, his mind calmed and he remembered how he felt the day his mind began to slip and she was there to assure him. “I’ll keep you safe,” she assured softly. “I know,” Harry replied.

“Hey, c’mere,” Emily said after a brief thoughtful pause and stretched out her arms. Harry looked at her quizzically but did as she asked. “What are....?”

“Nash sometimes has nightmares,” Emily explained pulling him close. “This never fails to keep him calm and get him back to sleep.” She wrapped her arms around him gently cradling his head close to her chest and rested her head on top his. Harry stiffened at the close proximity but soon relaxed feeling safe and wrapped his arms around her in return. It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep to the sound of her level heartbeat and Emily soon followed.

———

[mwolf0epsilon]

Crazy idea that I figured right now. Thomas dosn't hear like someone that would get married, even with a person of his kind (g r u m p t y) so, Allison is a witch (cannon btw).. love potion? Sorry is pretty funny for me.

Summary: One of Allison's more peculiar interests turns out better than she expected, if only because of a slight mistake.

---

[[MORE]]

If questioned on the subject, Allison wouldn't exactly call herself a witch. She had an interest in witchcraft, sure, but she herself was not an expert nor a professional on the arts of ancient beldams and shamans.

She was, however, the owner of a vast and ever growing collection of tomes that were the aglommoration of such olden knowledge.

Of these powerful tomes came the biggest of her fixations: Potion brewing, more specifically the refinement of elixirs.

It was amazing what a few select ingredients could produce if you were to extract or prepare them in a certain way. From all natural remedies to combat the effects of illness, to powerful poisons and even blends that could condition the mind to do certain things.

It was an art that could be used to do as much good as it could do evil, and Allison knew a few select witches of the past had indeed done evil when others scorned them so. To the detriment of those that had been pure in their intentions, as were many of the victims of the Salem Witch Trials.

But Allison wasn't looking to do much with her knowledge besides sate her curiosity and test a few interesting blends. Most went into helping those around her anonymously...

A few drops in a cup of coffee and suddenly Jack's bad cough was gone. A whiff of her perfume, and Sammy was a lot calmer than he'd been a minute or so ago. Even a few delicious homemade cupcakes got everyone into a creative rut that kept Joey off their backs.

She was benevolent in her actions... But... There was one particular blend she wanted to try for more selfish reasons. A love potion of a sort, composed of natural aphrodisiacs and calming herbs.

One she hoped to try on the object of her affections, a man that had such an impeccable work ethic that she doubted he even knew she even existed (which was odd as most men often buzzed around her like bees to a flower, because of her attractive features). It frustrated her to no end that Thomas Connor was a difficult person to understand, or to get close to.

Her previous experiences with past boyfriends had always been quite linear, so the mysterious engineer being so hard to read was baffling. No man nor any woman should be a puzzle so hard to figure out, and her lack of progress on this matter only made her feel more attracted towards him.

So here she was, trying to find Mr. Connor's coffee mug, ready to slip him an all natural drug that would definitely turn his gaze towards her... You know, like some degenerate wench...

"Oh you've sunk low Al... You've sunk very low." She murmured to herself as she looked through the shared cupboard. There was a myriad of different mugs that were unique so as to distinguish them from someone else's property. A lot of people in the studio were against sharing their cups after all, thus this fun little measure that definitely wasn't making it hard for her right now.

She knew the mug with brightly colored polkadots was Norman's, as it was a silly play on his last name (one Mel had started as a means to poke fun at him). She also knew the white one with intricate depictions of songbirds and forget-me-nots was Sammy's (a gift to him from his sister apparently), and that the bright green one with stocky writing on it was Shawn's (Mr. Flynn was, after all, fond of yelling 'Top o' the Morning to ya' to everyone at the earliest hours of the morning).

But, for the life of her, she couldn't find a mug that she thought might fit Thomas's personality at all... They were all varying degrees of either pretty or silly and none really screamed his name. Not until she squinted and found one that was bland enough to be a no-nonsense GENT employee's pick.

A simple black mug with absolutely nothing extraordinary about it, sitting besides a white mug with paw prints on it (likely Wally's as he had a fondness for dogs).

Taking that bland old mug, she proceeded with her plan.

-

By 9 AM sharp, Allison was a bundle of nerves. She'd prepared Thomas's coffee separately before making everyone else their own mugs to avoid suspicion. Then she'd set out a plate of cupcakes (some vanilla, some chocolate) to make it seem like an innocent little gesture rather than the shameful and depraved act that it actually was, and greeted everyone on her way out of the break room.

Morale was great that morning, but so was her increasing guilt... She shouldn't be meddling with what others felt, especially not trying to bewitch her crush into liking her for a brief moment. Yet here she was, hoping to bump into a drugged up Thomas Connor and get him to praise her in some form.

Her need for validation was... Rotten. She hated it, she hated that she'd gone to these lengths just to feel like someone genuinely cared for her rather than her good looks.

So when she did find her crush at last, she didn't feel so good about the plan anymore.

"Allison could I maybe speak to you for a second?" The gruff voice of Thomas Connor wasn't particularly loud, at least not louder than many of the other employees in the music department, so she jumped slightly when he approached her quietly during her break from recording.

"I... Yes certainly." Her stomach felt like it was doing flips as she followed the taller man, considering her options here. She could lightly reject any advances he tried to make in his state of unknowing inebriation, admit she may have slipped something in his coffee, or even straight up lie and say there was weed in the cupcakes... But, instead of doing anything, she resigned herself to the fact the next words out of his mouth weren't going to be genuine.

"I wanted to thank you." Thomas began as they'd gotten out into a quieter hall with little to no movement. "For always trying to brighten things up a little here at the studio. Drew's been a right pain in the ass, and it really sets off a chain... But here you are, getting up bright and early to bake cupcakes and brew everyone a cup of coffee, being the most genuine and selfless person at this damn madhouse..."

The guilt was excruciating, and Allison felt herself blush slightly as her eyes began to sting. He likely thought it was humility on her part.

"Hey, no need for that. Just stating the facts Miss Pendle..." He smiled, really smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Thomas Connor had this shy little smile that started at the corner of his mouth and just barely exposed his front teeth a bit. "I was wondering... If maybe I could pay you back. With uh... With lunch?"

"I..."

"I understand if you're busy, it's just... I'd just like to be able to repay your kindness in kind. Lunch for an impromptu breakfast seems fair... And it's well within our schedules I hope..." He added. She couldn't bring herself to decline even if she knew she should.

"It... It sounds good to me. Uh... Wednesday?" She shyly suggested.

"Wednesday." He nodded in agreement. "Best we both go back to work now, before Lawrence has a fit..."

"Yeah... Thank you Thomas." She smiled sadly, watching him as he nodded her way. Her smile vanished once she noticed him bring a mug up to his lips. A white mug with paw prints on it.

Once he took a sip from his coffee he went on his way, leaving Allison in a confused state. On one hand, her crush had genuinely just asked her out and that was amazing! On the other... Who's coffee mug was it that she had drugged then?

-

Henry groaned as he hung up his phone for the 20th time that day. Whoever the hell was calling his landline only to breathe heavily into the speaker as he questioned them, was really starting to aggravate him.

Damn kids and their stupid pranking antics... He had half a mind to call the cops!

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

An Opening

@ravenfan1242​  I had been meaning to write your WallyRae - this is finally done! I never wrote an AU like this or for Kid Flash/Raven. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the lovely Valentine’s Day WallyRae fanart!!!

Prompt List

@ravenfan1242​ WallyRae Fanart 

———————-

A disembodied arm sprang open an office, and stole the living wits straight out of the occupant, who until that moment, was lunching alone. A plastic spoon hovering within range of an agape mouth. “I thought I smelled something delicious.” Her shocked cobalt blue examined the intruder who then asked, “what’s on the gourmet today?”

“Um…soup.” Raven said to the bowl tightly. “Just soup.”

“I like soup.” The redhead remarked, holding the door frame above and angling his body towards the desk. “Did you make it?”

Sprinkles slid off the spoonful steadily. “Microwaved it.”

“Close enough, right?” He grinned. The kindness of his blue-green eyes shone even in the sparsely lit room, its single window covered in slats.

“Right…” She mumbled. A limp noodle nose-dived off the cutlery and plopped back into the lukewarm pool. “Cooking adjacent.” Which was as close to the act as Raven was willing to stand.

A wide breadth was generally best.

“Exactly what I always say.” He agreed. “Although… it certainly smells homemade, Raven.” Why was she blushing? Why was his mention of her viscous broth - located somewhere on the borderline between piss and dishwater - making her forget how to think straight? The lull was disturbed when freckled fingers rapped on her door in a rapid staccato. “I’ll see you later?”

She nodded weakly. “Later.” With that, he went whistling on his way.

With bright smiles and even brighter hair, Wally was unreal. Whether he stopped by her office unexpectedly, saw her in the kitchen, or spotted her in passing, he had this tendency or - compulsion - to talk to her. Even if it meant he had to race over to her and abandon someone mid-sentence, he would find his way to her side. Though he only started weeks ago, he had a presence that elicited eagerness, instead of her general indifference.

The day they met, something strange happened - she forgot to bring in her thermos of tea to work. She stopped in the kitchen on each floor, before she went up a total of five flights - to the sole coffee machine in operation. The machine beeped scarlet - angry accusations; it demanded to be cleaned before servicing anyone else. A not-so-office-friendly phrase threatened to slide from her lips at the sight of a hand swiping the final steaming cup of liquid - the proverbial straw.

“Just my luck.” She sighed to herself. An office building without a working coffee machine was one with cruel working conditions.

The new owner of the wax paper cup turned to her. “I’m sorry, did you need coffee?” Perhaps he was sympathetic, but likely he heard the desperation in her voice, the sheer panic of taking on Tuesday without a cuppa.

“No…tea.” Raven corrected the redhead. “Coffee doesn’t do it for me.”

“What a coincidence!” 

She believed it.

Apparently, he already had a superabundance of energy. A voice that was less jarring, explained. “Coffee makes a bit hyperactive - or more so.” His lips turned up cheekily. “Would you like mine? It’s herbal. Mint.”

“Really, I couldn’t.” But the man didn’t hear of it, he grabbed another paper cup and unloaded an even amount.

“We’ll share - you can make it up to me by telling me your name and department…” He could see she was befuddled. “I’m Wally West - I’m new.” His skin radiated charges through the handshake, it lingered on the cup he passed to her.

“Raven Roth… Human Resources.” On a typical day, she had few direct interactions with others, but she wanted to interact with him.

That week, they spoke every day. She tried to put her finger to the pulse of it, but couldn’t surmise.

It was easy to attribute her attraction to the dashes of freckles, flaming tresses, and feistiness, but it was more than that. There was a gravitational pull drawing her to the western hemisphere. It was saturated with sun. It was offbeat and unique, and…fun. With that chance encounter, work life changed for the better. So even though Raven hardly ever did herself, the days of routine nine to five took their own, well-deserved time-off.

———————-

Office parties and happy hours. These were social situations that had persisted through time, even though cocktails and coworkers were not meant to commingle.

And it was why, Raven didn’t know why she was attending this one. Frankly, she would much rather be in her own company than that of her tipsy boss and drunk coworkers, and other wasted strangers in the lowly lit bar. It was the most awkward thing in the world to witness their behavior while they bummed booze off the company dime.

The true reason she was here - it was mandatory. A mandatory, holiday party, the intention of which was to spend time socializing with coworkers in a low-stress environment. The aim was to avoid getting sloppy. Working in HR, she was aware. Though, others seemed to forget, they tended to get rowdy. Especially before their vacations.

Speaking of which.

“Man, you’re usually faster.” Pre-party rum was affecting speech patterns of the recent arrivals. “Happy hour awaits!”

“I know, we’re already so late.” That was definitely pre-party rum from someone’s cubicle closet.

There were other divisions here. Teams that were not as straight-laced as her own.

“Wally, you need to relax and get a drink - or two.”

He tipped his head, as spotted her by the bar. His steps were clumsy, eyes watery from the alcohol. At last, freckled cheeks, with their rosy halo freckled, wiggled out a hazy smile. The orange and blue bulbs above had gone paces past ambient lighting, to delve deep into clubbing territory. They were outside of work and outside the standard, watts of fluorescence she had grown accustomed to seeing him under. The palpitating in her chest appeared to agree. Raven didn’t know whether it was the drink she had been nursing, the thumping bass of played-out pop, or him in his gray button-down, with its rolled up cuffs showing forearms, tanned and strong.

“I hoped - you… to - night -” The shock of red bobbed, invitingly. Raven squinted and motioned to her ear. Oh - right! Wally mouthed. He pointed to a stool, Raven shrugged. She sipped quickly to hide her smile as he plunked down at her right.

And now…

At least five songs had gone, but Wally hadn’t left her side. Their bodies were tilted towards one another in the backless seats. He had given up shouting over the music to whisper directly into her ear canal. Each syllable was slow and slightly slurred - deep and deliberate.

“You look very nice.” Wally was referring to her black sheath dress. Though work-appropriate, it was tight and clingy. An unintended positive of the unseasonably warm weather, Raven had foregone tights. And Wally West clearly noticed.

“You know I’m in HR - that could be misconstrued as flirting,” She jabbed him with her straw. “But, you’re alright with me, Wallace.” When they were alone here with alcohol in the air she felt emboldened. To call him Wallace and scoot closer in her seat - to flirt about whether or not they were allowed to flirt.

“Misconstrued…?” His grinned went lopsided with nausea for a moment. “Oh - boy that booze.”

For a second, she placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture that hopefully was innocent to any onlookers. “Wally, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, shakily. “I just… don’t drink - like ever.”

“Really - not ever?” The ink eyebrows shot up. “Why not?” Her upturned nose twitched.

“Ever run hungover?” Run? A pale hand’s push slid their glasses out of sight. “I run - marathons… One’s coming up next weekend, so I’m in the middle of training for it.” Wally chuckled pathetically or painfully.

She fingered her ebony tresses thoughtfully. Then she whispered, while leaning forward so her mouth brushed the pink, freckly orifice. “So then why…did you drink?”

Wally spoke near her cheek, the sharp, spiced-sugar whisked Raven’s nose. “Because I wanted a little liquid courage.” His queasiness had dissipated. “I… want to dance - will you dance with me?” He asked, as though it had only occurred to him moments ago.

Suddenly, she glanced at her surroundings. “Um, I…” They were alone, but not truly. And even if they were, this was still a work party. She sneaked a peek behind them. The darkened room was thinned out, over half the people had left. Those that remained were drunker and louder than the last. Could it be that it was safe after all?

“Raven?” Wally was following her line of sight. “Are you…looking for an out?”

“No,” She promised and placed her palm in his. “Let’s do it.”

“Do it?!” Wally gasped. “Why, Raven, I’m appalled!”

“Don’t you dare…” Her voice had suddenly gone dry.

“I thought you were in HR.” Wally continued. “Can I report someone in HR - to HR?”

She sighed into her smile. “Your jokes are still decent when you’re wasted.”

Right or wrong, it was best to be cautious. Raven felt more at ease when he took her to a secluded corner in the back. Her and Wally danced restlessly, waiting, with their bodies a ways apart. Unspoken, until they were the last ones left.

At last.

Turning in aimless circles, with her arms draped on his neck and his hands tight to her waist, they drew closer. With the party over, it was harmless. She and Wally had morphed into two individuals out on a Friday at the bar.

The bar where booze laden blood overheated their bodies. Raven’s cardigan was torn off and the first three buttons on Wally’s shirt had come undone.

One song melded into another and another and another. Until one that played for their ears alone - it was one where rules of Human Resources, policies, and holiday parties could fall away like layers fallen between them.

———————-

Raven clicked open another email. One day was unending lull only for the one that succeeded to be filled with a billion urgent emails that all required her attention.

Today was one of those days.

Open Skype.

That was it. No subject. No greeting. No signature. And it was from one Wally West.

An involuntary smile began to slide across her skin as she clicked, wondering what this could possibly be about.

WW: 30 minutes. Me and you.

RR: I’m busy. What is this about?

WW: You’ll see. I’m signing off - so you can’t say no.

Wally appeared in her doorway no less than five minutes later. “Raven - up!” He commanded.

She shook her head violently. “I have a ton of work to do today. I can’t -”

Wally persisted. “Up. Up. Up!” He went around to pull her out of the chair. It made her remember their dances. She had to breathe carefully to calm herself. “You can squeeze in an hour for lunch.” Raven opened her mouth. “Microwaved leftovers or calcified bags of nuts from your desk drawer are not lunch.”

“Wally, please…” Raven she begged. She had to at least attempt a last ditch effort. “I should get this done.”

His red hair flopped over his face. When he straightened back up, he gave her a soft smile. “Trust me, it’s only an hour, and you’ll love it.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t say no to that - or to him.

He chatted with her animatedly for all five blocks until they arrived at a little bistro Raven had never been to, despite it being so close.

“Two tomato soups and two grilled cheeses, please.”

Simple, but classic, it was her favorite comfort food. When the waiter disappeared, Raven playfully shoved him. Wally grinned, appreciating how well he knew her.

True to his word, it was the best lunch at work she had ever had.

And after, they ran, with full-stomachs sprinted, arm and arm in their pea-coats. The uncooperative weather wafted their condensed breath out into the ether. The chill snapped their cheeks and noses, outlining them in pink as they raced on. He had vowed to get Raven to her office before an hour elapsed. But before they rounded the corner to the building, he stopped.

“Wally, come on.” Raven panted. “We have to get back - before -”

The experienced runner was hardly winded. His voice didn’t waver when he told her, “Raven, I don’t… Have to get back.”

“No. We all have an hour.” She exhaled, glancing at her watch for the time. “That’s the rule.” Her tone dropped a decibel, she conspired, pinching her forefinger and thumb. “I mean I’m supposed to say that, but you can push it a little…”

“Raven, I’m an independent contractor.”

Faintly, she wondered why he needed to mention that. “Meaning? You have a stricter deadline than I do -” He brushed a raven lock, tenderly gazing at her as he did so. “Wally…! What if someone sees you…”

“Today’s my last day, Raven.”

“What?” The pale girl ripped away, violently. “No." She bit out. Raven tried to slow and soften the harshness. "I… don’t understand.”

“My contract ended.” Wally explained. “And they decided not to extend it.”

“But,” She argued, knowing it was futile. “Surely there’s something we can do, or I can do.”

After all, what was the point of working in her department all these years? What was the point if she couldn’t help a friend?

“Raven, don’t worry about me.” He slid closer. “It’s alright, I’m needed elsewhere.”

“So that’s it.” Raven lifted her head.

“I’ll be packing up tonight…” Wally continued in a normal register. She wished he wouldn’t. “If you wanted to help…”

The wind picked up, night colored tendrils blew back in frigidity. The ice in the air surrounding her body was as cold as the ice overcoming her heart. It was painful enough that he was going. Leaving her. Helping to carry out the process would be cruel. “I don’t think I can do that, Wally.”

“I understand… But now, I can do this...” He eyed her closely. His bluish-green eyes memorized her face, at last, her lips. With enough films and sappy television in her repertoire, she knew what was next.

Two parted pillowy lips advanced, angling downward. Raven stood on her tiptoes, stretching her body to sun. His warmth drew her nearer to his atmosphere. This was it. The moment she had only dreamed of… She shut her heavy lids, just as his mouth, stung by the chill, veered…into her forehead.

“Let’s go back… to the office.”

The cool wind whistled and Raven was stung.

All over again.

“I’ll - meet you up there.” She stepped back. “I need a moment.”

As soon as he had disappeared out of sight, Raven started to walk. The other way. To the train. To go home. She felt sick after all.

A half day only seemed appropriate.

[the-blueish-trashcan]

He’s in Charge; Chapter Ten

Pairing: Henry/Bertrum

Warnings: Mentions of murder

A/N: Hey folks! Sorry for the late update! I worked late last night and honestly forgot about updating, so that’s on me! In this chapter, Henry learns a little bit more about what’s really been going on in the studio, and begins to put the pieces together. He ends up confiding in Bertrum, who does his best to understand what his partner is going through.

Chapter word count: 2,993

{First part} {Previous part} {Next part}

Chapter Ten; Suspicion

Shuffling into the break room the next day, the first thing Henry noticed was Susie Campbell, who looked to be settled in for her lunch break as well. She turned and waved as he came in.

“Hey, Henry! How are you?” She asked cheerily. Settled across from her was an anxious-looking young lady with auburn hair nursing a steaming cup of coffee. Compared to Susie, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

“I’m alright, I suppose.” Henry gave a generic answer as he went for the coffee maker. “What about yourself?

“I’m pretty good! I was talking to Joey the other night, it sounds like he’s got a couple plans in the works. He didn’t really tell me what it is, but he sounded pretty excited to have my help.” She responded.

Henry shook his head. “I don’t trust anything Joey has planned for this place, have you seen how many people he’s gotten rid of lately?”

At that moment, the woman sitting across from her speaks up. “He even fired Louis the other day. We barely even make a living wage, both of us work more than one job to make ends meet.”

“You’re kidding.” Henry turns to her, coffee pot and mug in hand. 

“I wish, I can’t afford to work here alone. Writing scripts was hard enough between the two of us, I can’t take it.” She replied, shrugging.

“Sure, things might be getting a little empty around here…” Susie started, “But Joey says if everything works out, we’ll be bringing in enough to get everybody a raise, not just the actors.”

“Whoa, wait a second. You’re getting a raise and half the departments in here are getting dismantled? That’s it. I’m out, I can’t take this anymore. The twenty-four hour diner down the street would treat me better than this, and that says a lot.” The writer finishes her coffee in a long sip, standing up and heading for the door. She doesn’t bother to push in her chair. “Hate to leave the rest of the studio hanging, but I can’t do it anymore! Nice knowing you, Susie!”

Stunned by the encounter, Henry turned to Susie, who only shrugged. Unsure what else to say, Henry simply went back to his desk.

*****

Just as Henry arrived at the studio the morning after, he was practically stopped at the door by a tired, worried-looking Jack Fain. He looked disappointed at the sight of the animator, but only slightly. “Morning, Henry.” He lifted a hand in greeting.

“Morning. Is something wrong?” Henry tilted his head to the side.

“Just…” Jack shook his head, taking his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “Norman didn’t show up this morning. Harrison had to break down the door to the band room ‘cause Norm and Wally were the only ones with keys. It’s not like him to skip out on work, I’ve seen him come in with a scarf around his face just ‘cause he was sick…”

Henry’s eyebrows came together as he reviewed the events of the previous night, fear suddenly gripping him. “Do you think Joey fired him…? I just saw him last night when I was leaving.”

“I don’t know about firing, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of who does. I’m gonna go talk to Cohen about it. You were the last one to see him, you should come with me.” Jack started down the hall, gesturing for Henry to follow.

“Where does he even work? I’ve never seen his office.”

Jack shrugged. “He’s down in the basement, not far from when your man was working on that theme park. It’s pretty out of the way, everybody misses it.”

Henry nodded, falling quiet as he continued to follow the lyricist.

*****

As promised, Grant’s office- which proved to be more of a converted broom closet than a room- was far down in the studio, but much closer to the lift than Bertrum’s work area had been. The door itself was closed, the beaten-up wood bearing two paper signs with shaky writing scrawled across them. One read, “All pay inquiries MUST be made through Joey Drew”, the second reading, “Two week’s notice MUST be given to Joey Drew before quitting”. 

Henry frowned at the signs as Jack knocked on the door, calling out, “It’s just me, you there, Cohen?”

“Jack? Y-yeah, come on in.” The trembling voice of Grant Cohen answered.

As the door swung open, a wave of cold air hit Henry full on, and he immediately pinned the cause as the open hole in the wall and exposed pipe in the back corner. Grant’s tiny desk next to the door was littered with papers, some of which spilled onto the floor as well. His trash can was overflowing with them, though those were mostly crumpled. At one side of his desk, a lamp flickered, shining mostly on a bulky camera and the photos that had to have come from it. From the door, Henry couldn’t see what the pictures were of, but he didn’t care to find out. 

“Hey, who’s been fired lately? And who quit?” Jack leaned on the frame, watching as the accountant shuffled his papers.

“Uhm…” He moved one under his lamp, squinting at it as his hands caused it to shake. “Yes, uhm… Well, technically there were… Three people fired total, and six that allegedly quit in the last…” He flipped a few pages. “Two weeks, about? I-I mean, there’s more before that, but…”

Henry leaned into the room a little more, over Jack’s head. “‘Allegedly’?”

Grant blinked up at him, pushing glasses up on his nose that weren’t there. “Well- Joey said to- to take them off the payroll… But I never filled out a termination form for any of them, so I’d just have to assume they quit suddenly.”

Jack looked up at Henry, then back to Grant. “Is one of those six Norman Polk?”

Grant skimmed over his papers again. “Yes… Joey told me to take him off after hours last night.”

“That’s not right. He wouldn’t just… up and leave without telling us, he’d… He’d at least make sure someone could do his job before, right?” Jack asked the room.

“I don’t know about that… Joey’s been dropping his pay pretty steadily over the last couple weeks.” Grant shrugged, arms folding on his desk.

“Something… really isn’t right here. When I saw Norman the other night, it was right after he was in Joey’s office yelling at him. He didn’t sound like he was about to quit on everybody, he was going to…” Henry trailed off, watching Grant’s eyes widen. 

There was a moment of tense silence before Grant spoke again. “W-well he- maybe he- maybe he got fed up and left, I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure what to tell you.” His voice shook as badly as his hands.

“For God’s sake… Thanks, Cohen, I need to go talk to Sammy about this right now, this is out of control.” Jack suddenly turned and stepped past Henry, taking off down the hall at a brisk pace. Henry, not wanting to move that fast, just waved and closed the door on his way out.

He was halfway to the lift when he felt someone grab onto his sleeve from behind, tugging on it slightly. When he turned and looked down, a still wide-eyed Grant stood before him. He wrung his hands in front of him for a moment, trying to find his voice. “Henry, you- I need to ask you something about- about Joey…” He almost mumbled.

Henry tilted his head, only briefly glancing back down the hall. “What about him…?”

“I know you deal with him a lot personally, I do too… Listen, I heard from Wally before Joey- before he was fired that… something weird happened with him last week, and I really shouldn’t be talking about it to you or anyone really, but he told me you saw it happen. What was it you saw with Joey, exactly?” Grant’s words were frantic, nervous.

His eyebrows came together in confusion, taking a moment to think. “Do you mean when he was coughing up sludge…?”

“Yes, exactly! You’ve seen it too! So maybe you’ll believe me! Look, Henry, Henry, he’s doing things here, it’ll take so much time to explain and I swear I will explain it somehow, but you need to know right now that he’s up to something other-wordly, and it’s very dangerous. You’re already seeing the consequences of that all over the place here, I needed to know that I wasn’t the only one that noticed it, none of it can end well, that’s so, so obvious already.” The smaller man babbled.

“Whoa, Grant, slow down…” Henry put a hand out, setting it on the man’s arm. 

“No, no, no you don’t understand, I swear, he’s trying to summon something, or… I don’t know what he’s really doing! But it’s bad, it’s really bad. I know too much, alright? I know too much about him and what he’s up to with some of the people here, and I doubt Wally or Norman or those people in the band-” He suddenly pressed his lips together, his eyes falling on the ground.

“What are you talking about?” Henry asked quietly, hardly making any sense of the accountant’s rant at all. 

“It’s not safe to talk here, not about this. Someone’s going to hear, and tell him, just like Wally-” Grant stopped himself again. “I’ll explain it all. I will, and it’ll be set right someday.” 

Henry didn’t get a chance to try and get him to explain one more time, the accountant took off back down the hall before he could be stopped. 

Henry was suddenly left alone in an eerily empty, dim hallway, wracking his brain over the accountant’s words and what was really going on in the building.

*****

Friday night, on his way home from the studio after a mostly uneventful day, Henry found himself still contemplating Grant’s ramble from the morning. Between the way he spoke about some of the former employees and the sudden disappearance of Norman, Henry was more than suspicious about what was happening. Nearly at his apartment, he turned the car around, mental destination set for Bertrum’s house. 

When he pulled up to the building, the gate automatically opened for him like usual. No sooner had he stepped out of the car than Ferris came barreling towards him from the yard, causing him to hold both his hands out, repeating “no!” to the dog. Ferris stopped short at his hands, licking both of them. Somewhat relieved, he reached out to pat him on the head a few times.

“Henry!” Bertrum called from across the yard, jogging to catch up with his dog. He had a chewed-up baseball in one hand and looked like he’d been home for a while. He wore a plain black t-shirt and dark-colored jeans, something Henry hadn’t expected to ever see him in.

“Hi… I’m sorry I didn’t call, I was on my way home and just sort of… decided to drop by.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Bertrum squinted at him ever so slightly. “Did something happen? You know I’ll come back there if I have to.” 

“I’m not really sure. Can we go inside? I’ll tell you about what I think.” He asked almost hesitantly. 

“Of course. The downstairs is being cleaned at the moment, we can sit in the living room upstairs.” Bertrum offered.

“That’s fine.” Henry nodded, heading for the door with Ferris close on his heels. On the way up one set of stairs, Henry caught sight of Bertrum holding Ferris’s collar, trying to direct him upstairs as well.

After a moment’s struggle, the dog had the idea, rushing up and past Henry, disappearing into one of the other rooms. Bertrum caught up to him then, a hand coming to rest on the small of his back. “Now did something happen?”

“Something’s seriously wrong there. More so than normal, there’s something happening behind the scenes that just doesn’t add up.” Henry blurted, letting Bertrum guide him into the living room. He shuffled over to the couch, removing his shoes and setting them to the side. He sat down in a way that he was able to face the other side of the couch, legs folded. 

“How do you mean?” The designer questioned, kicking his shoes off and sitting next to Henry. 

“Alright… Now… You didn’t know a lot of people there. You met Wally, right? He was the janitor.” He started.

“I did. He was… something.” Bertrum confirmed.

“Okay, well… Rumor has it Joey fired him. Rumor has it Joey also fired part of the band and the other part quit suddenly. Then suddenly someone absolutely essential to our whole operation disappears. At first, I thought it was just to cut costs.” Henry pauses, waiting for Bertrum to nod, signalling him to continue. “Well, me and someone from the music department went to talk to Joey’s accountant today. That man’s scared, Bertrum. He’s scared of Joey in the same way I am and he claimed to know too much about Joey and what he’s doing.”

“Do you think Drew’s been threatening him the same way as you?”

Henry nodded slightly. “It wouldn’t surprise me at all. He’s smaller than I am, and Joey’s clearly been controlling aspects of his job, too. But that’s not everything. He said that three people out of nine who disappeared suddenly had been fired, the others he just assumed quit.” Bertrum nodded for him to continue again, his eyebrows pulled together in consideration. “He assumed. He never actually talked to those people, he wasn’t told to do any paperwork for them when they left or anything.”

“Is it random? These people suddenly disappearing, are they random?” Bertrum asked, fingers tapping his knee.

“Sort of? I’m not sure who all was fired and who quit, I didn’t ask, but… Our janitor supposedly was fired, our projectionist quit… We only had one person in those positions, and a lot of the orchestra suddenly stopped working.”

“And… this accountant… He’s trustworthy?”

“More than Joey, he just seemed really frantic, it didn’t really make any sense but the more I think about everything he said to me, the more it feels like he knew more than he was letting on…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Drew has been… continually more aggressive and controlling, yes?” 

“Yeah, you saw how he’s started to treat me, and with the whole thing with the-” Henry freezes, a look of realization taking over his face. “Wally knew about Joey’s new hobby. He knew because of me. And Grant said Joey was doing something demonic and then Norman saw it and- Oh, God…” Henry suddenly stood up, eyes wide, a hand gripping his hair. “They knew! Wally has friends in the band and then they disappeared, what if he told them about-”

“Henry, darling, slow down.” More concerned before, Bertrum reached out towards Henry with both arms.

Henry gave him his hands and slowly sat back down. “Bertrum, I saw Joey coughing up black sludge. It was dripping from his eyes, too, and his eyes turned color, and you don’t have to believe me, but I was not the only one that saw it. Joey didn’t want me to see it though, it’s- it’s something he’s obviously trying to cover up. I told Wally about it and he disappeared and Norman saw it and now he’s gone, too…”

“Do… do you think he killed them, Henry? You think he’d go so far as to kill someone?” He ran his thumbs over Henry’s knuckles, looking him in the eyes.

“I don’t know! He might have, he…” The images of Joey’s office flicker through his mind. The pictures, the lists he hadn’t paid attention to, the way they looked to have been thrown together. “He has hit lists.” The last part came out as a shocked whisper.

“Hit lists? Henry, I don’t want to sound like I’m doubting you. I don’t mean to, I’m trying to understand this, but do you think perhaps you’re the one that’s paranoid? That studio has been seriously struggling for quite some time.”

“All I know is that my friends are disappearing and no one knows why, because some of them haven’t been fired like Joey says.” Henry shook his head. 

“The man is in a wheelchair, dear. I don’t think he’d be able to do much harm from there unless he ran someone over repeated. You sound like you just need a break from that place.” Bertrum reaches over to gently hold one of his cheeks, tilting his head.

“I’ve seen him stand. When he was first starting to cough up sludge, he stood up and made a grab for me, that’s when he started coughing. Who’s to say he hasn’t been walking, too?” 

Bertrum made a noise like he was thinking for a moment. “I suppose I have a couple favors I can call in regarding… investigation… Would you feel better if I got in touch with someone that could look into Drew?”

Henry’s gaze shifted to the side and towards the floor, considering the question. “I don’t know, I couldn’t ask that of you. Not right now…” He sighs. “I don’t know how much longer I can take it, working there. With everyone disappearing and Joey…”

Carefully wrapping his arms around him, Bertrum started to pull Henry close, eventually leaving the man practically in his lap. “I agree that you need time to sort things out in your mind. If you’d like to stay the night, you’re always welcome to.”

“Thanks…” Henry adjusted himself to be more comfortable, laying against the other man. “I think I’m going to, I don’t want to intrude or anything, though…”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Everything will be alright.” Bertrum reassured.

Henry nodded in response. “If you say so…”

[undertaleowl]

An addition to the pillow fort imagine for the MT and MF skelebros, after the movie ended they look down to look at their S/o, who was cuddling against them, head laying on their chest. The skellys say something to them but get no reply after moving their S/O's hair out of their face they see their S/o relaxed sleeping face when they hear them mutter a 'I love you bone daddy' in their sleep with a small smile

Can do, friendo! Underneath the cut!

Short Stack (MT Sans)

The movie marathon had ended, and all of the relaxed feelings that had settled in his bones during this little surprise completely disappeared. Gah, it was what? Two in the morning? He looked at his watch. With the shine of the television, Stack could see that it was in fact three in the morning, and he had to be up for work in two and a half hours, so that he and his brother could run a last minute inventory check before Puzzle’s toy shop opened at 8:00.

He wanted to be frustrated with you, but with you draped across his ribs like it was your rightful place, there was no way he could be. He sighed.

“The things we do for each other, Tootsie Pop,” he grumbled to your sleeping form. Light snores from you were your only response. He flicked an annoying piece of hair out of your face that covered up your eyes. Sure, they were closed, but they were fluttering beneath your eyelids and were still beautiful. He amused himself with thoughts of what you could be dreaming about. He jumped when you suddenly grabbed on his ulna to pull his entire arm closer to you.

“I love you, Bone Daddy,” you mumbled, and he had to cover his mouth with his fist to keep in the laughter. He was totally going to use this as friendly blackmail material later.

Puzzle (MT Papyrus)

Initially, Puzzle had been the one to fall asleep first in your Movie Marathon Extravaganza. After all, he was very much an “early to bed, early to rise, makes brilliant skeletons all the more wise” type of monster. After all, his store did open at 8:00. He squinted up at the clock above your TV, and was appalled to see that it was only 3:00! AM! How was he supposed to go back to sleep now? Usually when he woke up, it was because of his natural alarm telling him that he needed to get ready for work, but nooooOOOO! His wonderful, efficient sleeping pattern was gone in the dust, ruined, never to be seen again! Even if he managed to create a new sleeping pattern for himself, it would be no more efficient than his old one!

As he lamented the loss of his sleep strategy, he felt your face nuzzle his collar bone, as if silently apologizing. He sighed and brushed some of their hair to the side, and you awkwardly captured his arm to cuddle with it.

“I love you, bone daddy.”

The nickname went straight over his head as he closed his eyes.

“I love you too, dearest.”

Wally (MF Sans)

As soon as you had proudly shown off your surprise for him, he had already reasoned that there was no way in Hell that he was going in to work before noon. Even if Quizzy showed up to drag his sorry ass to work, there was no way he was leaving this position. You hadn’t left your position in his lap, and boy was it comfortable for the both of you. While it is no secret or coincidence that he likes to make the horizontal tango a little more vertical, it’s also very comforting for him to have all of you in his arms, as your source of strength and protection. Wally might not have been super great with words, but at least he knew how to convey that you were his and letting you go was never easy.

Therefore, his complete delight and joy showed on his face when you snuggled into the radius that was holding you against his chest as you slept soundly. He snickered quietly to himself as he brushed your hair out of your face, because your nose had wrinkled at the slight disturbance of your sleep.  

“Whaaaaat? I’m just making sure you get your beauty sleep,” he joked, though he was almost positive that you were asleep. In response, you nuzzled into his radius one more time.

“I love you, bone daddy,” you mumbled.  

He coughed to hide a perverted cackle. No, this was a pure moment, and he was going to let you sleep.

Quizzy (MF Papyrus)

While your pillow fort was great for watching movies in, it was absolutely dismal as a sleeping spot. You had assured him that the lack structural integrity in your fort was completely intentional, so that you two could tear it down super easily once you were done using it.

But how could he know for certain that you were done using it, if you had fucking fallen asleep?! How had you even fallen asleep?! It was only 11:00 pm! Now Quizzy was no late-night night owl like his brother, but he usually fell asleep around midnight! He had to assure himself, though, that not many people could measure up to all of the Inquisitor’s expectations. He supposed, begrudgingly, that you were no exception, but now he was feeling guilt about having to wake you, because there was no way he was sleeping in such an uncomfortable place! Your bed was literally right there, and instead you had chosen to sleep on the floor.

“You are a strange creature,” he muttered. In response, you grabbed his arm and nuzzled into it. He jumped. “Wait! Are you awake?!”

No response. He poked you. “Amore? Are you trying to puzzle me again?” Still no response. “Reflex,” he muttered to himself.

“I love you, bone daddy,” you muttered.

He pushes you off of him, his cheeks flaming maroon. “ARE YOU AWAKE OR AREN’T YOU?”

Welp, you are now.

[sophisticatedloserchick]

Fanfic - Drunken Misunderstandings - 1/1

Summary: At a friend’s party Iris gets so drunk she forgets Barry is her husband and misunderstandings ensue.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4011

A/N: Sooooo I had this in my drafts for about two years. Its been so long I’ve forgotten who originally sent me the prompt. If you’re still around here’s the fic you wanted

Iris woke up in an unknown room with a pounding headache. She squinted painfully at the bright yellow sunlight that came through the windows. The night before came back to her in a blurry mess. The last thing she remembered was arriving to celebrate Linda's birthday party but after that nothing came to her clearly.

Obviously she partied a little too hard judging by the massive hangover she had.  

Vaguely she wondered where Barry was. Even if he did leave early for Flash business he would always came back to take her home. Only ever so often did he pull all nighters where he ended up crashing at Star Labs.

Slowly Iris got out of bed. She needed to pause several times as the room kept tilting on its axis. She waited even longer to fight off the wave of nausea that took over. Silently Iris chided to herself that as a grown married woman she really should be better than this.

With great effort she stumbled out of the room then down the hall to the kitchen. There she found Linda looking effortlessly put together freshly showered in her pink silk robe and hair pinned up. Her skin glowing and she didn't even have bags under her eyes Iris thought resentfully. How Linda managed to look this good after a night of drinking was a superpower Iris envied.

“Morning sunshine,” Linda said with a bright smile. “There's a fresh pot of coffee waiting for you.”

Iris perked up considerably at the promise of getting caffeine into her system.

“Do you know what happened to Barry?” Iris asked as she poured herself a cup. “Did he leave on Flash business?”

“No not really,” Linda said lips twisting up in amusement.

“Then why didn't he take me home?” Iris huffed out.

“Well...you didn't exactly want to go home with him last night.” Linda chuckled which only made Iris more confused.

“Did we fight?” Iris tried in vain to remember what happened last night. “I can't remember anything.”

“You were very, very drunk.” Linda supplied. “I'm not surprised you don't remember.”

“I'm afraid to ask what happened,” Iris started to worry now.

“To start...you were hitting on him,” Linda said.

“Oh. Is that all?” Iris sighed in relief. “That's not too bad. Barry's my husband. I'm allowed to hit on him.”

“That's not exactly how it happened...” Linda smiled knowingly before taking another sip of coffee.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Barry sipped at his beer, not feeling any of its effects of course, watching his friends and family let loose. Linda certainly knew how to throw a party especially a birthday party for herself. After months of crime fighting and battling big bads it was good to see everyone having fun. Even if he did have the unfortunate luck of being the only sober one here.

Barry glanced around the room in search of Iris. He hadn't seen her for over a half an hour when Linda stole Iris away to play a game of Beer Pong. Not that Iris needed him to watch over her but he couldn't help but worry when she was out of sight.

His concerns were answered by a sharp tug at his sleeve.

He turned around to come face to face with his wife. A smile broke out across his face at the sight of her. A reaction he couldn't help but have whenever he was near Iris.

His happiness quickly turned to amusement the more he took her in.

Iris seemed to be struggling with the simple task of standing upright. Her body teetering under the effects of the alcohol she'd been consuming since they arrived. Her dark eyes that looked up at him were brighter than normal and a little unfocused. The brown skin of her cheeks flushed a darker color. All signs pointed towards that Iris had moved past being buzzed to completely drunk.

Not since college had Barry seen Iris this intoxicated when she had gone out drinking with her sorority sisters then drunk dialed him at two in the morning to pick her up. Barry then spent the next few hours holding back her hair as she heaved up the contents of her stomach. Since college Iris monitored her drinking. Never having more than one glass of champagne at a social event and limiting herself to two glasses of wine at home after work.

Her decade long stretch of 'careful drinking' had apparently been broken tonight.  

“Hi there,” Iris fluttered her eyelashes as she gazed up at him.

“Um hi?” Barry smiled down at her. “You feeling okay?”

“You're really cute,” Iris appraised him with dark but unfocused eyes. “Have we ever met before?”

Barry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Sometimes Iris would play the 'hey there stranger you're cute' game but usually she'd drop the act fast in favor of getting straight to the point of kissing him. Iris had no patience playing coy when she could be making out with him instead. But with her being this drunk made it much harder to tell how serious she was.

The best way to find out Barry figured was to play along.

“I don't think so,” Barry leaned his long body in closer to her. “I'd remember a beautiful girl like you.”

Iris let out a sweet giggle before shyly ducking her head away. Barry couldn't help but fall for her all over again. Not for the first time Barry thought she was the cutest person he'd ever seen. He practically melted when her fingers coyly played with the ends of her hair as she bit down on her lower lip.

“Well we should get to know each other better then,” Iris said with a teasing lilt to her voice.

She took a step forward closer only to trip on her own feet.

Without thinking Barry reflectively reached out to catch her. His hands wrapping around her forearms to steady wobbly legs.

“Wow,” Iris said in wonder with big eyes. “You are super strong.”

Barry felt heat rise in his cheeks at the compliment.

“I bet,” Iris said in a breathy voice. “You could bench press me.”

Barry didn't know why that sounded incredibly suggestive to him.

“Uh thanks?” He said awkwardly.

He was about to find a place to sit them both down when Iris practically melted into him leaving Barry no choice but to wrap an arm around her waist to hold her up.

“I like strong men,” Iris's fingers idly ran up and down his chest leaving a trail of electric shocks through him.

Barry found himself falling under her spell. Her soft body pressed up against him and the smell of her lavender soap made his thoughts all foggy. His hand that rest on the small of her back could feel the heat of her skin. His eyes traced the way her silk dress wrapped around her generous curves.

“Hey can I ask you a question,” Iris said while flicking her hair over her shoulder to expose the long length of her neck.

“Yeah sure,”Barry swallowed thickly.

His knees were going weak every time he saw the dark promise in her eyes. She kept biting down on her full lower lip making him want to kiss her senseless.  

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Iris said in a hushed voice as if they were sharing secrets.

Barry arched his eyebrow at that but decided to keep playing along with this game.

“Well actually,” Barry reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I have a very beautiful, very talented wife who I love very much.”

What happened next was a reaction Barry would have never anticipated.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“I started to cry?” Iris asked incredulously.

“Yes you did,” Linda said while munching on cream cheese smeared bagel. “Not even just a couple tears. We're talking about heaving loud sobs.”

“That doesn't make any sense,” Iris frowned in confusion. “I know I was drunk but....there's just no reason for me to cry.”

“You were upset because you thought Barry was married to someone else,” Linda shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently you also get memory loss when drunk along with being extra dramatic.”

“Oh god,” Iris dropped her eyes down to stare at her coffee in mortification.

“Don't worry about it,” Linda laughed . “We've all had our embarrassing drunk moments. I often wake up next to mine in bed. A little crying is nothing.”

“Did no one notice?” Iris asked hopefully.

“Well...” Linda trailed off.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Geeze Barry what did you do to her?” Cisco asked.

Barry stared hopelessly up at Cisco and Wally and Linda who had come over once Iris started to cry. The rest of the party goers were glancing over and exchanging hushed whispers at the scene.

Iris was currently sitting on the floor, face buried in her hands as she cried. Barry had crouched down to comfort her but no amount of consoling seemed to help.

“I didn't do anything,” Barry flailed for an answer. “I thought we were joking. I didn't meant to upset her.”

“Did you criticize her outfit?” Wally offered up.

“No of course not,” Barry replied affronted.

Not that he ever would say a bad word about the clothes she wore but on this particular night Iris looked amazing in a emerald green dress.

“Did you tell her that you don't like her cooking?” Linda pressed.

“What? No!” Barry looked at Linda like she was crazy. “She's just confused. She thinks I'm married to someone else.”

Wally, Cisco and Linda gave him looks that said they weren't convinced that could be true.

Barry ignored them and turned back to Iris when her cries turned to a mix between hiccups and coughs. Her shoulders still shaking with her face hidden behind her hands.

“Iris?” Barry tentatively reached out with his hand to touch her.

He immediately pulled back when Iris jerked away from him.

“Iris please,” Barry said with desperation. “I thought we were joking around.”

“Its not funny,” Iris dropped her hands away showing her red eyes from crying. “To play with a girl's heart like that. If you were taken you should of said so in the beginning.”

Barry sighed while Cisco and Wally behind him snickered in amusement.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“I'm never drinking again,” Iris groaned out from where her face was buried in his hands.

“Oh don't be dramatic,” Linda said from the sink where she was washing the coffee cups.

“How can I face Barry?” Iris sighed out.

“Well you better figured it out,” Linda glanced at the clock. “Barry said he'd be stopping by at ten.”

“What!?” Iris's head popped up. “Why didn't you tell me that before?”

Iris's mind raced cataloging how badly she looked in this moment. Her hair wasn't properly wrapped last night leaving it a tangled mess. Dark circles were under her eyes. Her dress from last night wrinkled from her sleeping in it all night.

“Didn't I?” Linda gave a sneaky smile.

Before Iris could call out her friend a knock came at the front door.

“Of course he's on time,” Iris grumbled. “He's never late when I need him to be.”

Linda cackled as she left to go answer the door.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Barry watched helplessly as Linda picked Iris off the floor who continued to sniffle. Normally he'd pull his wife into his arms to hold and comfort her whenever she was upset but he didn't know what to do when he was the cause of her distress even though not from his own doing. No one ever told him what you should do when your wife drinks so much she forgets you're married.

“Can I help?” Barry watched Linda struggle to hold Iris upright. “I can carry her to your guest room to sleep it off.”

Barry reached out to grab Iris's arm to steady her but she sent him a death glare that had him keeping his hands to himself.

“Ehhh don't think that's a great idea,” Linda sent him an apologetic look. “We don't want her to get all upset again. No offense.”

In the end Wally ended up carrying his inebriated sister to Linda's guest room while Barry watched with concerned eyes, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Cheer up,” Linda slapped Barry hard on the shoulder to get his attention. “You should be doing cartwheels after tonight.”

“My wife is crying because she thinks I'm married to someone else,” Barry grimaced at the not to long ago memory. “Why would that be a positive thing?”

“Even with memory loss she still thought you were the hottest guy here,” Linda smirked at him. “Don't pretend like that doesn't stroke your ego a little.”

Barry went red in embarrassment because he couldn't deny that thought had come to mind.

“Now I know you'd rather your wife stroke you tonight but beggars can't be chooses,” Linda laughed as Barry went even redder and balked at her. “Come back tomorrow with flowers and I'm sure all will be well.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iris stood up from the kitchen chair. She smoothed down her very wrinkled dress she slept in. Her hands patting down her messy hair. For some strange reason her stomach was a jumbled mess of nerves.

Seconds later Barry walked through holding out a bouquet of sunflowers for her. Linda thankfully was nowhere to be found. The last thing Iris needed was for her best friend to witness this embarrassing moment.

“Oh Barry,” Iris smiled a little bashfully when he handed her the flowers. “You really didn't have to. Not after how I behaved last night.”

“Nothing is too good for my wife,” Barry stoops down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. Iris had hoped that would be it but when Barry he pulled back there's an expression of mock seriousness on his face. “You do remember I'm your husband right? We never did figure out  if you'd sustained permanent memory loss or not.”

Iris scowled at his teasing but couldn't hold it for too long with the way he's smiling at her.

“Yes I remember,” Iris put the bouquet down to stand up to loop her arms around Barry's shoulders. His hands sliding easily around her waist as she went on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips. A soft sigh escaping Iris as their lips moved perfectly together. Iris let out a pleased hum as the kiss deepened when Barry pulled her in closer to him. Suddenly the painful hangover disappeared under Barry's touch.

“Sorry about last night,” Iris murmured against his lips. “I can't believe I forgot about you, about us being together.”

“Its okay. Not like I haven't lost my memory before either.” Barry stole another kiss from her. “Besides nice to know you think I'm the hottest guy in the room. So hot that you'd cry if you couldn't be with me.”

Iris rolled her eyes at his smug expression.

“Don't get too cocky Mr. Allen,” Iris grabbed his collar to pull him down to her level. “Don't think I don't know that you wouldn't cry too if you thought I was married to someone who wasn't you.”

“Nah wouldn't cry,” Barry grinned back at her. “I'd simply seduce you away.”

“Oh yeah?” Iris lifted an eyebrow up in question. “And how would you accomplish that?”

“Let me take you home and I'll show you,” Barry smirked.

Before Iris could get in another word Barry gathered her up in his arms to speed the two of them back home.

[dragonydreams]

Fic: (No Need to) Getta Bloomin' Move On - ColdFlash

Title: (No Need to) Getta Bloomin' Move On Fandom: The Flash Rating: Explicit Pairings/Characters: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Summary: Len surprises Barry for their anniversary. Timeline: n/a Word Count: 1,969 Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Berlanti Productions, DC Entertainment, and Warner Bros. Television. Betas: Thank you to angelskuuipo and shanachie for looking this over for me. Author's Note: This is my first time writing ColdFlash. Please be gentle. Author's Note 2: Inspired by @wordsfrompictures​ Prompt 1

Or read on AO3 

Len strode down the halls of S.T.A.R. Labs, listening as the friendly bickering grew louder as he approached the Cortex. He glanced at his watch, silently counting down. As he reached one the noise in the other room exploded.

Smirking, Len made his entrance just in time to pick Barry up off the floor and toss him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"Thanks, Kid," Len drawled, holding a fifty dollar bill out to Wally.

Wally grinned and pocketed the cash. "Easiest fifty bucks I ever made."

"Go ahead and fill them in, we've got places to be," Len said and headed back out to his car, ignoring the exclamations behind him demanding to know why Len had paid Wally to hit Barry hard enough to knock him out.

While the geek squad had not exactly accepted his relationship with the speedster, they no longer actively tried to break them up. Considering how much Ramon flirted with Len's sister, he had no leg to stand on; and the rest of the team had learned that if they wanted Barry to continue speaking to them, they couldn't disparage him in front of Barry.

He enjoyed stunts like tonight that reinforced their idea that he was no good for Barry, when the opposite was true. He and Barry balanced each other in a way he had never thought possible; in a way that he'd never wanted before.

He gently settled Barry into the passenger seat of his car and buckled his seat belt before hurrying to the driver's side, buckling himself in, and heading for the highway.

Barry woke twenty minutes later when they were well on their way. After his initial confusion and anger, and after the over-eager toddler routine of demanding to know where they were going ended, Barry finally calmed and began to relax and enjoy the ride.

After another half hour had passed, Barry said, "The drive is nice and all, but you know I could have just flashed us there in no time if you'd tell me where we are going."

"You need to chill out, Scarlet," Len drawled, earning him a groan from Barry. "We're almost there."

True to his word, Len turned off the highway a few minutes later and drove them through several small towns before parking in front of an old movie theatre.

Barry squinted up at the dark marquee. "Um, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think they're open."

As he spoke, one of the doors swung open and Len hopped out of the car to greet the man standing at the entrance. He turned back to the car and gestured for Barry to hurry up. Mouth agape, Barry exited the car and joined his boyfriend.

They were led into one of the empty screening rooms and Len directed Barry to sit in the middle of the last row of seats.

"What are we doing here?" Barry whispered, despite them being the only ones in the room.

Len pressed a quick kiss to Barry's lips. "You'll see. Wait here."

He slipped out of the room, leaving Barry to wonder what was going on. A few minutes later Len was back, a large bucket of popcorn and two beers in hand. He handed one beer and the popcorn to Barry and settled next to him.

"That's for both of us," he insisted, nodding at the popcorn and giving Barry a hard look.

Barry grinned and took a sip of his beer. "We'll just see about that. You did kidnap me, after all. It would serve you right if I ate all of the popcorn."

"It's too bad that threatening to leave you here doesn't work," Len grumbled, taking a fistful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth.

"Seriously, what are we doing here?" Barry asked, again.

"I'm taking you on a date," Len mumbled.

Barry's eyes widened comically before softening. "This is a date?"

"You're always complaining about how we never go out just the two of us," Len said.

"Usually a date involves one person asking the other out and then plans are involved," Barry teased.

"Oh, there were lots of plans," Len practically purred, leaning in close to Barry. "Had to find this place and arrange a private viewing, and had to bribe the kid to knock you out."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Barry grumbled, rubbing at his jaw. "You do know that if you'd just asked, I would have said yes. We've been together for--"

"Six months," Len finished. "Today."

"It's our anniversary," Barry gasped. Len nodded, amused. "I didn't forget. I was thinking about everything I was going to do to you tonight, but I kind of forgot what with getting knocked out and kidnapped."

"And what did you have planned?" Len drawled.

"Guess you'll never find out," Barry said, smirking.

Len dropped one hand on Barry's knee and began sliding it up the inside of his thigh. "I can be very persuasive."

"No," Barry squeaked, then cleared his throat. "I think this is going to be your punishment for kidnapping me." He did not stop Len's hand, though.

After a beat, Barry asked one more time, "Why are we here, Len?"

The lights dimmed and the screen flickered to life before them.

"We're watching a movie," Len answered, taking another handful of popcorn.

Barry stared at him for another minute, knowing Len well enough that there had to be more to this than just watching a movie, but as a red sports car drove across the screen, he turned his attention to the movie.

After the title card flashed across the screen, Barry said, "Wait, this isn't how I remember The Italian Job opening."

"That's because this is the one from 1969, not the 2003 remake," Len said.

Barry barked out a laugh and shook his head. Len had been trying to get him to watch this version of the movie for months. Now he had him as a captive audience.

"Fine, you win," Barry said, sliding down in his seat more and making himself comfortable.

"I always do, eventually," Len said, smirking. "Don't worry; I plan to make this worth your while."

"How?" Barry asked suspiciously.

"Just watch the movie," Len said. "The credits are almost over."

Once they had polished off the popcorn, together, Len moved the container to the empty seat beside him, then rested his right hand on Barry's thigh.

Glancing down at the hand slowly moving up his leg, Barry leaned over to whisper, "I think you're supposed to put that around my shoulders."

"If you were a girl and I was trying to cup a breast, then you'd be correct," Len drawled. "Seeing as how you lack that particular body part, I'm after something better."

Barry swallowed at what Len was insinuating and felt himself begin to harden.

Finally reaching his destination, Len settled his hand over Barry's fly, cupping his burgeoning erection. "Some parts of you seem to approve of my plan."

"All parts of me approve of your plan," Barry huskily corrected, sliding down more in his seat and widening his legs.

Len slid from his seat to kneel between Barry's spread legs. He quickly opened Barry's jeans and pulled out his hard cock. He licked a stripe from base to tip, savoring the drop of pre-cum before taking the head in his mouth.

Barry had to bite back a groan, his hands grasping the armrests tightly as he tried not to buck up into Len's mouth.

Len teased the head with his tongue before slowly lowering his head, taking Barry fully into his mouth. He wrapped one hand around the base of Barry's cock, keeping him steady, the other hand bracing on Barry's hip.

Len took his time, knowing his lover very well by now. Every time he sensed Barry was close to coming, he'd grip the base of his cock tightly, staving off his orgasm.

"You know," Barry panted, his right hand roaming over Len's close-shorn hair, "I can't really concentrate on the movie when you're doing that."

Much to Barry's dismay, Len pulled off of him to answer. "That's okay; the planning part of this movie is kind of boring. I'll be done by the time by they're ready to pull off the heist."

Barry groaned, pressing his hand against Len's head, encouraging him to get back to it so that he could finally get off. He may not know when the actual heist happened in the movie, but he knew that Len would know it down to the second; so he knew exactly how long he could torture Barry like this.

After another ten minutes, Len's jaw was getting sore, so he changed his pace, now working to bring Barry off as soon as possible. It only took a gentle scrape of his teeth against the over-stimulated flesh for Barry to scream out his pleasure as he bucked and released into Len's mouth.

Len made sure to lick Barry clean before tucking him back into his pants. He slid out from between Barry's legs and pressed them together before straddling them as he settled into Barry's lap, surging forward to capture his mouth in a rough kiss.

Barry groaned at the taste of himself on Len's tongue, his hands digging into Len's back as Len's hands buried themselves in Barry's hair.

A glance at the screen showed that nothing interesting was happening, at least to Barry, so he slid his hands around the waistband of Len's pants until he could undo the belt buckle, pop the button and slide down the zipper. They both moaned as Barry wrapped his hand around Len's hard cock and withdrew it from his pants.

"What do you want?" Barry panted against Len's lips.

"That trick you do with your hand," Len bit out, resisting the urge to thrust into the loose hold Barry had on him.

Barry smirked, releasing Len so that he could lick his palm before taking him back in hand. He reclaimed Len's mouth as he let his hand begin to vibrate.

The guttural whimper Len released instantly made Barry hard again - not that it took much when they were together.

Less than two minutes later, Len pulled out of the kiss long enough to say, "I'm close."

Barry glanced about and then flashed them around so that Len was in the seat and Barry was now kneeling between his legs as he engulfed Len's cock, moments before it exploded.

Barry licked his lips as he tucked Len away, and then took the seat that Len had started out in.

"I like when you plan surprises," Barry whispered against Len's lips, before kissing him chastely and settling back to watch the rest of the movie.

Just as Len had estimated, on screen the planning was mostly done and the actual heist was just getting underway.

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, holding hands.

As they began the drive home, Len couldn't help asking, "So, good surprise?"

Barry turned his head to look at his boyfriend. "The best kind of surprise."

Len's smirk was almost a smile.

"You know, I'm going to have that song stuck in my head for days now," Barry said, several minutes later.

"Don't. You. Dare," Len said through gritted teeth.

"This is the self-preservation society," Barry began to sing, laughing as Len cursed beside him.

Len really should have known that Barry would find a way to pay him back for knocking him out. He'd just hoped that it wouldn't be in such an annoying manner.

He'd suffer his torture though.

He glanced at Barry's happy expression as he sang the annoying song and knew that he'd put up with anything to keep that look on Barry's face.

The End

[notstars-doors]

Landslide

~~~~

Dick turns his head to the side just enough to peek one eye out. “Two sugars?”

Wally rolls his eyes affectionately. “And a splash of cream. Dude, I’ve been making you coffee for years, I’m insulted you even have to ask.”

Dick stays silent for a moment, then lets out a quiet groan as he pushes himself up and into a sitting position.

At some point in the night he must have taken his shirt off, which Wally had noticed earlier that morning when he’d found it strewn on the floor, but it’s only just registering now that Dick’s not wearing a shirt.

~~~~

Dick and Wally try to figure out what last night meant, and how to move on from there.

An unexpected continuation of "What Are Best Friends For?" that didn't really feel like a second chapter, so we're making this a series instead.

read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903153

“Okay, so. I’ve been thinking.” Wally flops down on the bed next to the lump of blanket that only slightly resembles his best friend. “And it’s been driving me nuts, so you need to wake up, so I don’t have to keep thinking anymore.”

The lump doesn’t respond.

“I swear to god, if you don’t get up, I will dump this coffee on you.”

Some muffled grumbling emanates from beneath the blanket, which Wally can roughly translate to either “you wouldn’t dare” or “I don’t care”. Either way, he decides that letting out a dramatic sigh and pulling the blanket away from Dick’s head is the best course of action at this point.

It’s 11:30am and Wally has been up for hours. He’s already made two breakfasts, gone for a ‘run’ with his roommate Kyle, and then a real run, and finished his chemistry homework. At a regular human speed, too, just to make the time pass while Dick slept his day away.

As much as Wally wants Dick to get some well-deserved sleep, it was getting a little ridiculous that his best friend wasn’t awake already.

Not to mention the ‘going crazy thinking’ thing.

“Dick, it’s almost noon.”

The young man in his bed (that didn’t used to be a weird thought) groans at the sudden exposure to sunlight and buries his face in a pillow.  “Still morning…”

“Not for long, dude. C’mon, I really did make coffee, and I don’t have the cash to waste by dumping this on you, so don’t make me do it.”

Dick turns his head to the side just enough to peek one eye out. “Two sugars?”

Wally rolls his eyes affectionately. “And a splash of cream. Dude, I’ve been making you coffee for years, I’m insulted you even have to ask.”

Dick stays silent for a moment, then lets out a quiet groan as he pushes himself up and into a sitting position.

At some point in the night he must have taken his shirt off, which Wally had noticed earlier that morning when he’d found it strewn on the floor, but it’s only just registering now that Dick’s not wearing a shirt.

This shouldn’t be weird, they’ve been friends forever, he’s seen the guy shirtless a thousand times.

But he’s never actually looked.

His bare chest is smooth in that it’s free of hair, but it’s marred with far too many scars for a man his age. Some are old and faded, others fresh and barely healed. Despite the many imperfections in his skin, you could hardly call Dick’s body anything but perfect. The hard-worked muscles are defined, yet easy. He’s lean, but still built. Slender, but strong.

Aaand Wally’s going to stop looking now before things do get weird…

Dick sits up against the headboard, rubbing at his tired eyes and blinking a few times to get used to the light. Then immediately makes grabby hands for the cup of coffee that’s balancing on Wally’s knee, and Wally can’t help but think about how adorable he looks in the morning.

Which leads to Wally handing Dick the mug, then throwing himself face first into the duvet and letting out a frustrated groan.

“We have GOT to talk about this, dude. It’s actually killing me.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Wally guesses that Dick just downed half of that coffee.

“Talk about what?”

Wally turns his head to side to glare at his best friend.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Dick gives him a look of confusion, but when Wally’s smushed face screws up in disbelief, his face just splits into a grin. “Of course I’m kidding, you idiot.”

Wally turns his face to groan loudly into the blanket again. “You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah, but I’m your jerk.”

Wally can’t help but smile into the blanket at that. He turns to face Dick again, shifting onto his side and leaning up on his elbow. “Are you?”

Dick sips at his coffee again. “Am I what?”

“Mine?”

He pauses, blinking a few times as the question registers. “Uh.”

“See, this is why we need to talk about this.”

Dick rolls his eyes, taking in one last mouthful before placing the mug on Wally’s bedside table. “Would you chill? I just woke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wally presses a hand to his own chest in (almost) faux offense, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve just been awake for four hours thinking about last night and freaking out. Alone, might I add.”

Dick raises an eyebrow, a cocky grin spreading across his lips. “You’ve been thinking about kissing me for four hours?”

Wally glares. “Not. What I meant.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Then you’ve got problems, jackass.”

Dick lets out a low chuckle, the sound still deep and husky from sleep and Wally feels a sharp stab in his chest at the sound. He flops backwards onto the bed again, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes.

“Seriously, man, I’m… I feel really weird and I only ever talk to you when I feel weird but now I’m feeling weird because of you and it’s just…”

“Weird?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mere.”

Wally shifts his arm to the side to look at his best friend. His very attractive best friend, who he’s never ever ever thought of as attractive until… well, until last night. Who’s reaching for him with both hands, teasing expression gone and instead replaced with an earnest desire for Wally to come closer.

Well, who’s he to deny that request?

Wally lets out a sigh, taking Dick’s offered hands and letting his friend pull him upright to face him. They’re sitting cross-legged in front of each other, much like they had been the night before, hands still clasped together.

“This okay?”

Wally nods.

“How would you like to start?”

Wally purses his lips, shrugging a little. “I dunno… I guess, like, what are we now?”

Dick gives him an indecipherable look, just for a second, then the most gentle smile. “We’re best friends.”

“Okay. But-”

“Best friends who kissed.”

“That’s where I’m stuck.”

Dick laughs, and Wally never wants him to stop doing that. “What’s confusing about it?”

“Doesn’t kissing your best friend mean things… change?”

“They don’t have to.”

“So, what, we just forget about it?”

“If you want to.”

Wally tries to read Dick’s expression this time, he really does.

“Do you?”

Dick just sighs, looking down at their hands. “I’m not the one freaking out about this, Wally. I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m okay.”

That earns him a very dead-pan look of ‘really?’

“Okay, so, I’m a little wigged out but like… it’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s not?”

Wally shakes his head. “Of course not.”

Dick squints a little, his brow furrowing in the way it does when he’s trying to solve a difficult case. “So, why are you freaking out then?”

“I just…” Wally shakes his head again, releasing Dick’s hands to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I dunno…”

“What?”

“I just love you, man.”

His hands are being pulled away from his face almost instantly, and Dick is looking up at him again with that earnest expression.

“I love you too, Walls.”

“But like, I’ve never had to think about what that meant before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” Wally grips Dick’s hands more solidly in his own, settling them in his lap. “It just always been ‘Dick is my best friend and I love him because he’s my best friend.’”

“And…?”

“And now it’s ‘Dick is my best friend and I love him but holy shit do I like him too?’”

His friend starts laughing again and this time Wally laughs too, squeezing Dick’s hands tightly. The laughing is good, it’s nice, but it fills Wally with a strange anxiety.

Dick shakes his head in disbelief.  “You wanna hear something that might make you feel a little better?”

Wally smiles. “Always.”

“I had that moment about three years ago.”

He blinks. “Wait, what?”

Dick sighs, uncrossing his legs and extending them out on either side of Wally’s knees. It would be a far stretch for anyone else, but for Dick it’s as easy as breathing. “Yeah… I mean, I was, what? Fifteen? That’s when I realized I was bi. I started looking at guys as well as girls and… well, you’re a guy. You’re the guy I know better than anyone else. It wasn’t a far jump to make.”

They sit in silence for a little while after that, Dick just waiting, and Wally a little too shocked to form a coherent sentence yet.

When his voice finally comes back, it’s quiet. “All this time?”

Dick just shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re my best friend. My straight – well, seemingly straight – best friend. What was I supposed to say?”

Wally throws his hands in the air disbelief. “I dunno, anything?! How about ‘Hey Wally, I’m into guys, and you’re one of them’?”

Dick gives him a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Wally finds that he really hates that. “You think that would’ve gone over well?”

He frowns at him, a little offended. “You think it wouldn’t?”

Dick just looks back down at their hands. “I couldn’t take the chance. I couldn’t… I didn’t want to lose you.”

He leaves out the ‘too’ at the end of that sentence, but Wally hears it loud and clear.

Wally lets go of Dick’s hands. He can see the tension rising in his friend’s shoulders until he raises his own hands to cup Dick’s face, waiting patiently for the other man to meet his gaze. When he finally does, Wally’s heart just about breaks at the look in his eyes.

“You’re never gonna lose me, Dick. Not then, not now, not ever.” Wally smiles softly. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Dick’s hands reach up to grip Wally’s wrists tightly, his lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back the emotion he can see in those big blue eyes.

He doesn’t even think about it. He’s been somewhere between thinking too much and not thinking at all since last night, and right now seems like a good moment to stop the thinking and start acting a little more. So, Wally just stops thinking altogether when he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Dick’s trembling lips.

Dick just about melts into him as soon as their mouths touch, fingers going lax for barely a second before tightening quickly on his wrists again. Wally’s hands slip from their place on Dick’s cheeks to slide into his hair, and he decides that this time he’s gonna be that much braver and open the kiss a little. When his tongue swipes across Dick’s lower lip, both part for him with the softest sigh and suddenly Dick’s much closer to him than he was before and he’s got an armful of Boy Wonder.

Wally’s arms automatically wrap around his waist in response Dick’s winding around his neck, their chests coming together with a thud as they both move to get as close to each other as possible. Dick’s crawling into his lap, and Wally’s scrambling to stay upright with the movement but Dick doesn’t seem to care. He’s kissing him with such reckless abandon that if Wally didn’t believe the whole ‘three years ago’ thing before, he sure did now.

How the hell is this just happening now?

Dick is everywhere, everything, and for the first time in a very long time, Wally feels like he can’t keep up. There’s a familiar sensation of ‘can’t stop, won’t stop’ that Wally gets every time he kicks into his speed, but this is so different and so much better and Wally feels like he can’t breathe.

But that might be because he can’t actually breathe.

As if Dick was thinking it too they break apart with a gasp, chests heaving as their lungs ache from lack of oxygen. Their eyes are still closed, foreheads coming together as if they’ve done this a million times, breathing in unison. They just sit like that for a little while, Dick still seated fully in Wally’s lap but neither of them objecting.

When Wally’s eyes finally open, they meet hooded baby blues filled with an emotion that hits him full force in the stomach. And the groin. But he’s really trying not to think about that right now.

Wally can’t help the giddy smile that starts to spread across his face, and soon he’s bursting into nervous giggles and Dick isn’t far behind. He wonders if they’re going to do this every time they kiss.

Eventually the giggles subside, and they’re left clinging to each other in silence as their breathing goes back to normal.

“Three years, huh?”

Dick’s eyes narrow, and he leans back to smack Wally in the arm.

Wally just laughs again, arms winding tighter around Dick’s waist to pull him close again. “I’m just teasing, babe.”

Dick freezes, and so does Wally when he realizes what he just said.

“…babe?”

“Uh.” Wally bites his lip. Shit, how did that slip out? “Okay, sorry, don’t really have a good excuse for that. It just kinda… came out.”

He only relaxes again when Dick’s fingers slip into his hair, twisting through the shaggy ginger locks in a way that sends shivers down his spine.

“No, it’s okay.” Dick mumbles. “I… kinda like it.”

Wally pauses, then leans his forehead against Dick’s with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

“So…?”

“Is that just a new nickname I get to call you, or…?” Wally trails off, then leans in to nip at Dick’s lower lip.

Dick lets out a breathy sigh, leaning a little closer in return. “…or what?”

“Or should we maybe talk about what the hell we’re doing?”

His head drops to Wally’s shoulder, who shivers at the sensation of Dick’s breath against his neck. “What are we doing?”

Wally rolls his eyes, then flops backwards on the bed. Dick squawks as he comes down with him, crashing back down into Wally’s chest with a thud and a glare. Wally just looks up at him with a toothy grin, and he knows Dick would only be mad for about .25 seconds longer. Dick just sighs again and readjusts so that his legs slot comfortably between Wally’s, who’s really trying not to think about that fact. He folds his hands up on Wally’s chest and rests his chin on top.

“Well, let’s see. We’ve established that we like kissing each other, and that we seem to be… appreciating each other more than best friends probably should.” Wally recounts, his hands coming up to fold across Dick’s back. This new touching is a little different than their usual brand of touching, but it’s still just as natural. “So maybe we should address the ‘being more than best friends’ part.”

Dick nods, which is a funny little action while his chin is resting on Wally’s chest. “Yeah.”

“So…”

“Yeah?”

“Dude, help me out here. You’ve got the experience, I’m the newbie.”

He frowns in confusion. “Experience?”

“You dated Babs, she’s your other best friend, right? How did you deal with that?”

Dick scoffs, moving his hands aside so he can press his face against Wally’s sternum. “God, I don’t even… Wally, I was low-key still in love you throughout that entire relationship. Babs figured that out about six months in and dropped me like a sack of potatoes. I mean, she was good about it, and we obviously managed to stay friends, but still. I have about as much experience as you do here.”

Wally’s still reeling from the ‘in love with you’ comment, but doesn’t bring it up, not sure if Dick realizes he just dropped that bomb. “Okay… well… How about we just talk about the ‘best friends’ part?”

“Okay…?”

“Like how no matter the fuck this is, I always want you to be my best friend.”

Dick lifts his head back up to look Wally in the eyes. “I do too.”

“So…” Wally starts tracing small circles on Dick’s lower back, just realizing that holy shit he’s still not wearing a shirt. “If this is… something… we have to promise that no matter what happens, we still stay best friends?”

Dick hums at the sensation on his skin, nodding and resting his cheek back on Wally’s chest. “Promise. Best friends forever.”

Wally rolls his eyes. “Don’t be cheesy.”

Dick’s head snaps back up immediately. “Excuse me. You’ve been a big ball of cheese since you woke me up, I get one cheesy comment in and you decide to say something?”

He grins. “Yup.”

“Oh no, not fair.”

Wally’s eyes shine with a challenge glint. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Dick pauses in thought, then leans up quickly to capture Wally’s lips with his own, a soft groan slipping into Wally’s mouth as he does.

Wally’s hands immediately raise to grasp at Dick’s hips, fingers digging into muscle in response to Dick’s movement. Dick’s tongue is in his mouth again and suddenly all thought of cheese and challenge is gone and Wally can’t think of anything except his best friend’s body against his own. The kiss is desperate and needy and Wally’s not questioning it, sighing softly into Dick’s mouth as the other man hands are tangling in his hair.

And then suddenly it’s gone and Dick is sitting up on top of him with a cheeky smile that’s just screaming ‘I win.’

“You little-“

“Yes?”

Wally’s eyes narrow, glaring up at his friend in annoyance until he smiles wickedly. He kicks into his speed, everything slowing down around, and he takes that one moment to look at Dick’s face in appreciation before flipping them over and pinning him down against the bed.

Dick’s breath leaves him one big rush, his mind attempting to catch up with the speed of the movement, and when it does he’s looking up at Wally with the most dead-pan ‘not fair’ expression he’s ever seen on his face.

Wally grins, then leans down to press a gentle peck to his lips. “I win.”

Dick looks disgruntled, but the kiss seems to help even though his arms are crossed firmly across his chest. Wally drops down and rests full-body on top of Dick, who groans as the sudden weight on his chest, but doesn’t actually protest all too much.

“So.” Wally starts.

“So?” Dick responds.

“Best friends.”

“Yes.”

“Always.”

“Forever.”

“Okay… boyfriends…?”

“…that sounds agreeable.”

“Any special terms?”

“Lots of kissing.”

“Deal.”

“You?”

“How about a date?”

“Are you asking me out, Wallace West?”

“I sure am, Richard Grayson.”

Dick smiles. “Then it’s a date.”

Wally kisses him, and this time its soft and sweet and Wally loves the feeling of Dick’s arms twining around his neck. “It’s a date.”

He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against Dick’s, content to just lay there for a little while in each other’s arms. It’s been a long morning, but still, so worth the wait.

As if he can read Wally’s mind, which he honestly wouldn’t be surprised about, Dick nudges his nose against Wally’s.

“Hey Walls?”

“Hm?”

“You feeling better?”

Wally bites his lip to hide his smile, but he fails miserably.

“Yeah, I am. Thanks, Dick.”

Dick grins and nuzzles his nose against Wally’s again.

“Hey, what are best friends for?”

[ask-joeydrewstudios]

No Smoking

((i’ve had a handful of people ask ‘What happens if Sammy tries not to smoke?’ over this blog’s run and I actually first wrote this fic back in like... July/August 2017? But I was never happy with it so I never posted it. I’ve just been sitting on it c’: I’ve passively mentioned it a few times so if you’re a long-time follower you might remember it, but here it is I’ve finally finished it after it got brought up again when I asked for fic requests.

It’s easily the longest fic I’ve ever written (4.2k words, apparently!), no shipping unless you squint (it takes place in 1936, it predates sammy and susie being An Item(tm)... officially, anyway), and it’s got a whoooole lot of Sammy being way too over-dramatic. Here it is on AO3 if you have a preference, enjoy this relic of a fic.))

 Bendy was hiding out in the studio infirmary early one morning, waiting for the footsteps that signaled the arrival of the department’s employees. Today, he was pulling his biggest prank thus far - stealing Sammy Lawrence’s cigarettes. He’d already stolen the janitor’s keys to sneak into his office and grab them, as well as small bottle of whiskey he kept in the back of the same desk drawer for those days when he needed an extra something to take the edge off, and stashed them in a bucket in one of the studio’s many janitorial closets. He could have done this to any employee, a handful of them had smoking habits, but Sammy... Sammy was rarely seen without a cigarette. He said he only smoked when he was stressed or anxious, but as it turns out he’s almost always stressed or anxious. Couple that with how dramatic he can get, and the little imp decided separating him from his vice of choice could lead to some serious entertainment.

  He’d been waiting around for almost a half-hour when he finally heard activity overhead. Sammy’s office was at the end of the hall, and when he heard the sound of footsteps shuffling the full length of the hallway above him he knew the show would be starting soon enough. He snuck up the stairs and peeked around the corner just in time to hear the office door unlock, and a moment later he could see the music director throwing his coat over his chair and sitting down at his desk with a cup of coffee through the office window.

  Everything was in place. Now he just had to wait. Bendy made a dash for the stairs to make it to another floor, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the music department when Sammy realized what was happening. It would be far too suspicious.

  Not long after finishing off his cup of coffee, Sammy reached down to open the bottom drawer of his desk. He was still too tired to realize it was unlocked, but he wasn’t too tired to realize something was... missing. A few somethings were missing, actually. Shuffling papers and notes around he found that his cigarettes were not just misplaced in the drawer, they were gone. There were three cartons in here yesterday, and both his office door and this drawer were always locked when he left for the night. Someone had raided his desk.

 “What the hell, this drawer is locked for a reason. Who could have--”

 He froze.

  "...Wally's got keys for every lock in the studio. He's also a dead man if he was behind this.’”

  He threw open his office door with such force that, if he weren’t preoccupied with his missing belongings, he’d be surprised he didn’t break the wall it so loudly slammed against. He briskly walked down the long hall, tense and with a look of murder in his eyes. Wally was whistling as he too conveniently entered the music hall.

  "Wally.” He began as he stopped suddenly, the other man almost running into him in his distracted state. “Were you in my desk this morning?”

  "What? Uh, no, I just got here like two minutes ago." Wally replied. He sounded very genuinely confused, and he was no actor. If he were lying, it would be as apparent as the freckles on his face. That meant the real culprit still had to be found. Joy.

  "Why are you askin' me if I was in your desk? Is something missing? 'Cause if you think something's missing, maybe y’just misplaced it-"

   "No, things are very clearly missing, and I know I didn't move them." Sammy sighed, trying to think who else would have access to his desk. He had a lot of work to do, and not nearly enough time to do it - he needed to get to the bottom of this, and he needed to get to it five minutes ago.

  "Well, did you try Bendy yet? You know how he likes to make trouble." he nervously chuckled, not wanting to set the other man off. It was too early to be getting yelled at.

  Sammy froze again, the realization dawning on him.

  Of. Fucking. Course.

  "If you see Bendy, grab him and come find me." Wally didn't get a chance to respond as Sammy had already run off. Distantly he could hear him running into Susie Campbell, and frantically explaining the situation to her.

  Looks like today was going to be... interesting.

  Sammy had found his way back up to the animation department, where Joey’s office was. The little demon liked hiding out in there when he knew he was in trouble, so if he was going to be anywhere... this was his best bet.

  "Bendy!? Open this damn door." He yelled, banging his fist on the office door and tapping his foot impatiently. There was only a dead silence in return. Before he could try the handle, the door opened. Bendy, much to his dismay, wasn’t the one to answer. Instead, it was his boss, Joey Drew.

  "Oh. Hello Sammy." The music director looked about ready to strangle someone, and he was slightly worried it would be him. He hadn't even done anything yet. "Need... something?"

  "Where. Is. Bendy." He growled through his teeth.

  "Why do you need to know?" Joey answered, the fearful curiosity obvious in his tone. He had a firm grip on the door handle, ready to slam it shut if Sammy jumped at him.

  "He took my cigarettes, Joey. I know he did, and when I find him I am going to-"

  "Oh, don't make any rash decisions. I mean, do you really know it was-"

  "Who else would it be!?" Sammy snapped with a step forward as Joey recoiled behind the door. "Do you know where the little bastard is or not?"

  "I haven't seen him since early this morning, he didn't say what he was doing or where he was going. If- if it means anything, I’m sure someone would be kind enough to lend you cigarette or two."

  He rolled his eyes and stormed off. Nobody in the studio smoked the same brand he did, or... nobody he knew did, anyway. He wasn’t about to go around asking, and he was incredibly picky about his cigarettes. Substitutes were not on the table.

  Joey watched the music director as he left, and he was relieved to not have a metaphorical knife to his throat anymore. But... he was worried about what trouble his creation had gotten himself into. The studio was absolutely massive, and Bendy was very good at hiding and sneaking around - Sammy could look all day and still not find him. And if he did, who knows what kind of a mood he'd be in at that point. Nobody had ever seen Sammy go without smoking for very long, and he was incredibly dramatic. Things could go very wrong, very quickly.

  It was quiet. Quiet and still and really rather boring. Bendy yawned. It had been a while and nothing interesting had happened yet. Maybe this prank wasn’t such a good idea after all. He’d been sneaking all over the studio after losing sight of the music director in hopes of catching him freaking out, but... no such luck.

  How disappointing.

  Distantly he heard a rhythmic sound echo through the air, the sound of heels clicking on wood. Nervously he peeked over the side of the cabinet he was hiding on top of, thinking he might see a certain fallen angel that’s prone to raining on his prank parades... only to see Susie approaching him from down one of the studio’s many oddly-long hallways instead.

  "Hiya Susie! You seen Sammy by any chance?" He suddenly revealed himself from the top of the cabinet where he’d been sitting half-melted for far too long. Now he was (mostly) in one piece again as he jumped down from his hiding place, a few stray drops of ink flicking onto the wall.

  "Oh you bet I have, and he's pretty darn pissed. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Her arms were crossed.

  "Me? Why would I have any idea what he's throwing a fit over?" He leered up at her. "When have I ever done anything to make him mad? I've certainly never taken anything from his desk to kickstart a little fun..."

  "Oh, so it was you then?” She asked. He shrugged and looked up at her with a mischievous smirk. “Bendy, you really shouldn't have taken those. Just tell me where you put them, and I'll keep him from kicking you into a wall, okay?"

  "Yeah, fat chance of that." A low voice hissed from the hallway. They were so busy talking they hadn't heard Sammy's frantic footsteps come up behind them. His fists were balled at his sides and he was seething. Susie took a step between him and the toon.

  "Susie, get out of my way."

  "Samuel James Lawrence you are not going to hurt a drop of ink on his head, do you hear me?"

  "...Your middle name is James?" Bendy snickered from behind his guardian.

  "Quiet, you incessant little-"

  "Sammy!" Susie yelled sharply. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and sighed. After a moment he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in as he stared her dead in the face.

  "Susie, I’ve not had a cigarette all morning. I am losing my mind, my hands are already starting to shake." His voice was low and wavering slightly from anxiety. "I have music to write, the deadline is right around the damn corner, I am far too stressed as it is and I do not have time for his bullshit right now."

  She could feel his hands shaking on her shoulders, he wasn't kidding. Before she could offer a reply, they heard Bendy laughing again.

  "Jeez Sammy, are those stupid little sticks really so important to you that you can't work without 'em?? Never thought you to be so dependent on something!"

  Susie turned to quiet him, but that gave Sammy the opportunity to slip past her and lunge forward, grabbing the toon by his tail and lifting him into the air.

  "Where are they?!" He was yelling again.

  "Wow, not even gonna ask nicely? Or say please? Rude..." Bendy sneered.

  "WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY, BENDY!?"

  "Language, language! Maybe exchanging those stupid things for a bar of soap would do you better."

  "Tell me, or I will drown you."

  "Hah! As if Joey would let you do-" Their eyes met for the first time in their little exchange. Sammy was glaring at him with such a murderous intensity, the toon's doubt in his threat began to crumble. It was in this terrifying moment of realization that Susie found her voice again.

  "Sammy, put him down." Her voice was stern and her hands were loosely up in front of her, ready to either comfort him or to hold him back from doing something stupid. Bendy tore his eyes from Sammy's and glanced over to her, then back to him.

  "I'll tell ya if you put me down~"

  Sammy's angry glare narrowed, and he let go of Bendy's tail - letting him hit the floor with a thud and a small splatter. He pushed some displaced ink back into place as he got back up, wobbling as he found his balance again.

  "I said put me down, not drop me ya dolt!” He quickly shook his head, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling. “I put your stuff in a closet somewhere, in a bucket under a towel."

   "'I put them in a closet!' he says, as if there aren't dozens of those in this hellhole of a studio." He mocked, but stopped when Susie shot him an angry look. He took another breath, trying to calm down. "Which closet?"

   Bendy thought for a second.

  Then a moment.

  Then... a few moments, his expression gradually shifting from contemplation to subtle fear.

  "I uh..." he began, still thinking of which closet exactly he'd stashed the things in. Sammy's arms were crossed, and he was rapidly drumming his fingers on his arm. One of his eyes was twitching.

  "Well??"

  "I...” He got quieter. “I don't remember."

  "What do you mean you don't remember?!"

  Susie put her hand on his shoulder while looking down at a nervous Bendy. There was another moment of silence as the toon clearly strained himself trying to think.

 “I don’t remember!” He yelled back, ink slowly starting to drip from him.

  Susie felt Sammy start to lean forward as if he was about to attack, and she pulled him back with her strong grip on his shoulder. She put her other hand over his chest for security, glancing to him and then to Bendy.

  "You're right, there are a lot of closets in the studio! A-and I've been between floors a lot already today, I don't... I don't remember where I put your stuff." His cocky attitude had melted away just as his form had clearly started to, and his voice cracked and he stammered as if he was about to cry. Susie felt bad for him, he clearly didn't mean any harm in what he did. He was a kid, he didn’t know better...

  Sammy, on the other hand, was not so moved. If anything, he was just more pissed off than he was before.

  "Hey, what's going on over here?" Wally joined the group. "Oh cool, you found Bendy. Why's Sammy yelling so much? You can hear him on the other end of the studio, it's crazy."

  He noticed Susie's concern, and Bendy dripping ink. Guess who has to clean that up later...

  "Bendy took Sammy's cigarettes this morning as a prank, and now they’re both freaking out. Bendy says he hid them in a closet and he doesn't remember which one, you haven't seen them have you?" Susie explained. Sammy had started biting his thumb, a nervous habit he thought he kicked until this situation proved otherwise.

  "Eh... can't say I have, sorry. Hey, why don't you go back with him to his office and keep him from losing his mind while we look for 'em?"

  Susie gave a determined nod as she and Sammy made their way back to his office. Bendy took a moment to compose himself after they were gone, and he followed Wally to start the search. Truth be told, Wally was just offering to help as an excuse to slack off.

  “I didn’t think Sammy would get so... scary. I just thought he’d get whiny and throw a fit, but...” Bendy trailed off, walking quietly beside the janitor.

  “Look-- how old are ya again? Like... eight months old by now? Well whatever, point is I kinda don’t blame you for all this. I mean, y’didn’t know. The short of it is, sometimes folks get real fidgety when they go without smokin’. I guess with the way he smokes and his general attitude, Sammy’s just... one of those guys that’ll absolutely lose his mind instead. But don’t worry about it, we wont let him do nothin’ to ya. We’ll find his dumb cigarettes and everything’ll be just fine.”

  Bendy didn’t say anything.

  Back in Sammy's office, Susie was sitting by his side as he got more and more anxious. It had been an hour since the two of them had gotten back to his office, and it was amazing just how antsy he got just by not smoking for one morning. He would have been fine (albeit irritable) until he got home if he wasn't already under so much stress, but when he was stressed like this he'd smoke cigarette to cigarette. Not being able to manage his stress with his usual coping mechanism was making it all far, far worse. His hands were still shaking, he couldn't stop bouncing his leg or biting his nails, and he was having a hard time focusing on the music sheets strewn about his desk. Instead, his mind was trying to think of something to distract himself from how hard and fast the fused monster of stress and withdrawal had hit him, and all the worst-case scenarios of what would happen if he didn’t make the deadline. It was especially unfortunate as it was Monday (that didn’t help either) and he needed the music done by Wednesday, and he had already been struggling with it.

 Of course, that wasn’t the end of it. Time for the real salt in the wound, something he hadn't noticed in his haste this morning but that he noticed when he got back: his whiskey was gone as well. The last thing that could have maybe helped the situation, also gone. All this just pissed him off further. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. The fact that Bendy decided to pull this little stunt now of all times...

  "The little bastard's lucky he doesn't have a neck, or I'd fucking strangle him for this." He mumbled, turning to Susie.

  "Oh you'd do no such thing." She gave him a playful slap on the arm.

  "I would. I need to get this music done, but I can’t. Focus. All I can do is sit here, thinking about how much time we're wasting, and wasting time is making me feel worse, and I can't focus enough on anything to calm down, so all I can do is sit up in my own head in this infinite loop of I'm Fucked."

  She put her hand on his back and her head on his shoulder. There was a radio she turned on earlier in hopes the music would calm him down some, but it hadn't seemed to help. She flicked it off and tried humming to him instead. He hesitantly leaned his head on hers, so... it must have been a slight improvement over the radio. Unfortunately her free-time on this Monday wasn’t unlimited, and she’d be returning to the recording booth soon enough. She hadn’t even left yet, and already she was worried about what he’d do while she was gone.

  Meanwhile, Bendy and Wally were running all over the studio trying to find the stolen goods. They had gone through the whole place once, twice, three times - the third time is the point where they ran into each other, and exchanged confusion as to why they couldn't find the stash. It was almost noon, they didn't want to think about what hell might have been happening in the music department right now. Susie had responsibilities, she couldn't stay with him the entire time and he wasn't exactly known for being good at managing his own meltdowns. They especially didn't want to return to said hell, but someone had to deliver the bad news.

  "You do it!" Bendy insisted. "He wouldn't touch you, he'd splatter me."

  "No way in hell, you're the one that started this mess to begin with! I know you didn't mean for shit to hit the fan the way it did, but you gotta own up to it."

  "Really Wally? You're gonna just let me walk to my doom like that? You said everything would be fine!"

  "Hey, I was under the impression we’d find that crap. Besides, getting kicked through the wall wont kill you - "

  "That doesn't mean its FUN! ...Well, maybe it's a little fun. But that's beside the point!"

  Wally rolled his eyes with a huff. They kept walking through the studio to the music department, and the entire time Bendy was waiting for the janitor to break and say he'd talk to Sammy. No such luck, they were standing at his door now and he hadn't said anything. Sammy had recently installed a curtain over the window in his office so he could be more alone while he wrote, and as such they couldn't see what he was doing or if he was even in his office. They felt that if he wasn't, they would hear him yelling at someone in the recording studio. It was quiet though, so they assumed him to be in there.

  Bendy looked up at Wally, who waved his hand in front of him as if to say go on, knock on the door. The toon glared at him for another second before facing the door again, and... he knocked.

  They heard the muffled sound of a chair flying back wildly and a hushed swear as someone ran to the door. It flung open, and a frantic Sammy almost immediately realized they were both empty handed. His hopeful, wide-eyed expression quickly dropped back to a scowl.

  "...You didn't find them, did you?"

  Bendy and Wally exchanged side glances at each other. Before the toon could give the response he had been dreading, he was cut off.

 "Of course you fucking didn't, just my fucking luck..."

  "I'm... gonna go grab Susie." Wally said, running down the hallway. Bendy wanted to stop him, he did not want to be left alone with Sammy while he was in such a bad mood, but he was already gone. Thanks Wally, you jerk. He started backing up into the wall as Sammy advanced, looking more and more pissed off by the second. He was ranting about something but he was too afraid to pay attention.

  Susie was in the recording studio, in the middle of reading her lines. Wally felt bad for interrupting their session but he didn’t have time to explain what was going on as he grabbed her by the arm and led her down to his office. She didn't need to be told what was wrong, she heard it as soon as the door to the recording studio opened. Sammy was yelling at Bendy, complete with threats, and while Bendy usually didn't take his threats seriously he was being even scarier than he was earlier... it’s not like anyone was around to save him if he tried something -

  "Sammy you're scaring him half to death, calm down." She again stepped between the enraged music director and the terrified toon, and Wally was nearby. He felt safer now that he knew he hadn’t been ditched.

  "Calm down? It's been four hours! I haven't gotten a god damn thing done all morning, and I have every right to be pissed off over it!"

  "Sammy-"

  "The shit he pulls is usually a mild annoyance, but this? This is going way too far, and I give up."

  He ran down back down the hallway. Susie and Wally both shouted after him, but he didn't stop. He was too fast to keep up with as well, they only found him again when they heard him yelling near one of the studio exits. When they finally caught back up they saw he was yelling at Joey, who had coincidentally run into him. Turns out Sammy intended to take his break a little earlier than usual to leave the studio to buy more cigarettes instead of waiting for the old ones to turn up, and Joey was fine with that but Sammy really likes yelling at people. All Joey asked was 'where are you going?' after seeing him with his coat on, and Sammy lost it. Again.

  Wally, Susie, and Bendy all looked on, not really knowing what to do. Then Alice showed up, hands behind her back.

  "What did Bendy do this time?" she asked with an unimpressed sigh.

  "Took and hid Sammy's smokes, then forgot where they were. We both ran all over the studio lookin' for them, three times we checked the entire place through, but I guess someone else up and nicked ‘em because we sure as hell didn't find anything." Wally explained.

  "Thanks for assuming it was me, Al." Bendy said quietly, hoping she wouldn’t hear him over the yelling.

  "Oh, I didn't assume anything." She placed the bucket on a nearby desk. The handle hit the side of the pail with a loud metal CLANK that sent the whole room into utter silence. Everyone stared at it for a moment as Alice crossed her arms, glaring at the mischievous toon who she'd been onto since the moment he grabbed Wally's keys.

 "Where did you-" The imp stuttered.

  "I knew what a bad idea this was from the start, and I knew if I told you so you wouldn't listen to me. I thought letting you learn that for yourself would be better. Given your terrified expression, I think you've more than learned your lesson." Alice was smiling slightly, her job had been done. Sammy was already fumbling with his lighter and a cigarette, and after lighting it and taking a particularly long drag he was feeling better. He blew smoke into the air and he felt the anxiety just melt off, it would take another few minutes for it to be entirely gone but dear god this was an improvement.

  "...Sammy, is that alcohol?" Joey questioned as he walked over, eyeing the bottle. "I told you not to keep this stuff in your desk, why do you still have it?"

  "For bullshit like this." He uncapped it and took a shot straight from the bottle.

  "Sammy, get rid of it."

  "Yeah yeah, whatever." He was back to his cigarette.

  "I mean it, if you don't-"

  "Do you want me to take another shot? Actually, don't answer, I'm doing it to spite you." And back to the bottle. Joey shook his head and walked back to his office. He didn't even remember what he had left it to do. Bendy followed, he’d had enough for the day already.

  Incidents like these are why Joey Drew Studios does not enforce its no smoking policy.

[kiseiakhun]

I have no idea what brought this on tbh

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*

Wally wakes up to his phone jumping to life beside his pillow. He fumbles in the dark, groping until his fingers finally make contact and squints down at the screen, half-asleep mind trying to make sense of the too-bright words and numbers. Spends so long staring, in fact, the the buzzing stops right as he finally manages to make out who’s calling.

Oops.

He lowers the brightness of his screen, debating if he should call back. A few seconds after, and his phone starts buzzing again, which, well, answers that question.

“Roy,” he sighs into the mouthpiece after pressing accept call. “What the hell do you want? You know it’s two in the morning, right?”

“Wally!” Roy says cheerily, sounding inordinately pleased that he’d picked up. Which is… fair, considering he doesn’t always when it’s Roy calling. Because sometimes he’s got a test to study for, or he’s got homework to do, and Roy can be…

Well, he’s a melodramatic asshole with more issues than he has braincells. Gets Wally’s blood boiling with the way he’s always making fun of him, calling him kid even though he’s only two years older - and every time Wally’s right about to blow his gasket, Roy segues shamelessly into words that leave him red and blushing for days. Snuffs out all of his anger and leaves him with this gnawing hunger that makes him want to just-

Distracting. Roy can be distracting, okay?

“You’re awake!” He’s saying now, and Wally sighs, loud. He would’ve pinched his nose, too, except that would require extricating his arm from within its blanket cocoon, and that sounds like far too arduous of a task right now.

It’s a matter of pride. He’s not going to let Roy fucking Harper ruin his comfort, even if he is letting him wake him at the asscrack of dawn.

“Yeah, because you woke me up, asshole,” Wally hisses quietly into the line, mindful of waking his parents. “Now what do you want? You know I have better things to do than babysit you, right?”

It’s nothing that’s different from their usual jabs. Dick had commented on it before, how half the time it doesn’t even seem like he and Roy like each other, and Wally couldn’t think of a way to explain how it’s not like that, it’s just… it’s different with them. A kind of mutual understanding that they won’t treat each other with kid gloves, because sometimes you’re not in the mood to be nice.

Except this time, Roy is quiet for a long moment, and then he says, “Yeah, sorry. I guess I should stop bugging you and let you sleep.”

His tone sounds soft. Wistful, almost, like Wally had just whispered endearments at him instead of basically telling him to fuck off. And it could be him trying to invoke pity, except Roy’s never tried that kind of manipulative bullshit in the admittedly short time that Wally’s known him. Or it could be that Roy is calling because he actually does want to talk instead of just wanting to heckle him this time.

“Whatever, dude.” Wally shifts into a more comfortable position, resigned that this might possibly turn into a long call. “I’m awake now, and I don’t think I can fall back asleep again, anyway.”

“That’s a damn lie,” Roy says, still sounding inordinately fond. “You sleep like the fucking dead.”

“No, that’s Dick,” Wally points out, stifling a yawn.

“Only when he’s been drinking.” Roy’s voice shifts lower to something more playful. “Have you been drinking, Walls? You know you shouldn’t do that. You’re a growing boy.”

“Have you?” Wally shoots back, rolling his eyes even though Roy can’t see it. 

“Of course,” Roy answers easily. “Come on, you still have to ask? It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Yeah,” Wally answers, stifling a yawn. “It’s not like you ever call me when you’re sober.”

Silence greets his proclamation for so long that he’s starting to doze off again when Roy finally says, “I call you plenty when I’m sober.” A pause. “… right?”

“Dude,” Wally mumbles, prying his eyes open and blinking up at the ceiling. “Did you spend that long trying to remember?”

“Well, excuse me,” Roy snarks back. “It’s sort of hard using my brain right now.”

“I assumed that was the default for you,” Wally says, smiling at Roy’s annoyed grumbling.

“You’re such an asshole,” he sighs. “Why do I even like you?”

And Roy doesn’t mean anything by that, he’s sure, but his heart skips a beat anyway. “Don’t know,” he answers, keeping his tone light. “You sort of have shit standards.”

“Tell me about it,” Roy says with another melodramatic sigh.

“I have,” Wally points out. Multiple times, in fact. He’s made no secret of what he thinks about Roy’s usual choice of partners.

“Aww, baby,” Roy coos, brushing him off as always. “Don’t be jealous. You know you’re still the prettiest one in my harem.”

Wally snorts. “That’s Donna,” he points out.

“The prettiest boy, then.”

He smothers his grin. “That’s Dick,” he says, wondering if he’ll ever stop getting butterflies at how easily boy slips out of Roy’s mouth.

“Well, fine,” Roy says, sounding put-out. “You’re ugly then. Happy?”

“Why are we talking about me, anyway?” Wally asks. “Weren’t we talking about you?”

“Were we?” Roy asks, sounding genuinely confused. “I don’t remember.”

“Of course you don’t,” Wally mumbles, staring at the dark sky behind his blinds. He wonders if it’s starting to lighten already, or if that’s just his imagination. “What do you remember?”

And he’d meant it about their conversation, but Roy hums and says, “Don’t know what they gave me. S’good tho.” His voice drops to something sleepy and soft. “’S good.”

Something twists in the pit of Wally’s stomach. They all know Roy - all know what Roy is like, and it’s not anything surprising, to find that he’s taken something stronger than just booze, but. It just. It still makes his skin crawl, hearing him in this half-asleep daze, not knowing who he’s with, or what he’s taken, and he’s too far away for Wally to reach. Sometimes, he wishes he could traverse the whole globe in a heartbeat just so he could slap him for being such a - a - God, Roy bristles at any type of pity, any indication someone might give that they’re worried about him, but it’s hard keeping it contained when he’s so worrying.

“You shouldn’t just take whatever they give you,” he says anyway, and Roy huffs out a laugh.

“You don’t even know who they are.”

“Will you tell me if I ask?” Wally says archedly, and Roy’s silence is as good as an answer.

He closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Roy’s slow breathing on the other side of the line. “You still with them?” he asks, instead of what the hell are you thinking?

“Yeah,” Roy answers after a few long heartbeats.

Wally counts the stars bursting behind his eyes. He’s so, so tired right now, the seconds dragging on in long slow ticks, and the world feels muted somewhat. Muted and fake, like this is some sort of transient hour that exists outside of time, and maybe that’s what prompts him to ask, “Then why are you calling me?”

It’s only after he says it that Wally realizes how it sounds. And fuck, he didn’t mean it like - but it’s out there already, and he can’t take it back now.

But Roy barely seems to think before he says, “Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice, hm? Maybe I just missed you.”

Stop, Wally almost wants to say, but the word seems to get stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. And God, but he hates how easy it is for Roy to just say it, just come out and say this shit like it isn’t - like he isn’t –

Why him. Why him? Literally anyone else would’ve been a better option.

Wally can’t help but wish Roy had never called him tonight.

“Yeah, whatever,” is what he settles on saying, his traitorous heart pounding in his chest in double-time. And he has to keep telling himself no, has to keep reminding himself why it won’t work because Roy’s too far away and Wally’s not like him, he’s not like any of them, and the fact that they’re even talking to him at all is a damn fluke. Fuck, look at him, thinking of Roy and Donna and Dick as them instead of their own separate people. He can’t even pick which one of them to fixate on.

Maybe this is why Garth can’t seem to stand him.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Roy continues blithely, unaware of the crisis that Wally is currently having. “Do I gotta dance a jig or something to prove it to you?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Wally says, instead of stop telling me things that you don’t mean. Stop getting my hopes up. Because Roy doesn’t mean it, is the thing. Doesn’t mean it like that. He knows that it’s just his personality. Knows that if it seems like there’s anything more authentic there, it’s just him and his stupid romantic heart reading too much into things.

Roy already has a boyfriend, for one. Or, well, he pretty much does, anyway. It’s clear that both he and Garth both have their own separate things against commitment and putting a label on things, but. Come on.

“Takes one to know one, huh?” Roy teases, still sounding so fond, and Wally grumbles into his pillow.

“You’re the one who woke me up at two in the morning.”

“Yeah, well.” Roy pauses. Wally can hear the sound of something shifting on his side of the line. “Never said I wasn’t.”

It’s quiet, for a bit. Wally dozes, listening to the soft swish of wind, the clinking of glass, the soft, melodic lilt of Roy’s cursing as he drops whatever he was holding.

He so, so desperately wants to ask if everything is okay.

“Hey,” Roy asks him suddenly. “What’s the time right now?”

“You have a phone,” Wally mumbles, not quite managing to stifle his yawn this time. “Check for yourself.”

“My hands are busy. Come on. Check for me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Wally scowls on principle, and then he laboriously peels his phone away from his ear, squinting at the time. “S'three a.m.”

“What’s that for me?”

“Fuck you.”

“Take me to dinner first.”

“No one else has to take you to dinner,” Wally complains. “Why do I have to?”

Roy barks out a laugh at that, and Wally grins in spite of himself, proud that he seemed to have startled the noise out of him. “Maybe I want to try out this whole ‘standards’ thing you guys are always harping on about. I gotta say, I’m not very impressed right now.”

“You should ask Garth to take you out to dinner,” Wally says, pausing to give another muffled yawn. “Bet… he’ll make it good for you.”

“Wally,” Roy says, sounding far too composed and lucid for how much he must’ve drank, not to mention whatever else is in his system right now. Maybe he’s immune to alcohol; he certainly drinks enough for it to be possible. “Garth ran off to be a dolphin the moment he turned eighteen. You think he has the first clue on how to date?”

“Yeah, well,” Wally mumbles, “he seems to be doing good so far. Besides,” he adds before Roy can tack on his usual spiel on how they’re not dating, which, yeah right, “like you’re any better.”

Roy makes an offended noise. “Of course I know how to date.”

“One night stands don’t count, Roy.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not talking about those.”

“Wait, really?” Wally blinks awake, almost sitting up before remembering Roy’s not actually here with him and flopping back down on his bed.

“Of course.” Roy sounds affronted. “Do you really think I’ve never dated?”

“I didn’t think you knew what dating was,” Wally admits.

There’s a long silence. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Yeah, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m joking. But seriously, I thought you weren’t interested with the whole, you know.” He frowns, tired brain fumbling for the right words. “The whole… you. Thing.”

“The whole you thing,” Roy (justifiably) mocks. “Oh, that’s descriptive.”

“Shut up,” Wally sighs, blushing. “It’s three in the morning, okay? Whose fault is it, again, that I’m even up?”

“Hey.” Roy’s voice hits different this time, dipping into a warm sincerity that's… wrong. That sounds wrong, because it almost seems a little unsure, and Roy is all easy confidence and swagger, he’s not – he shouldn’t be unsure of anything. “You don’t have to, you know? I mean, if you’re busy – and you probably are, right, I mean geez, I bet you’ve got better things to do than, uh. Babysit me.”

A low stab of guilt goes through him at Roy parroting back his own words. And he probably doesn’t even remember that it was Wally who first said it, but. Shit. If anything, that makes Wally feel worse. “It’s fine, Roy,” he starts.

Roy makes a strange sound that he eventually recognizes as a choked laugh. “No,” he says. “No, Wally, it’s really not. Jesus, what the hell am I – you know you should’ve told me to fuck off by now, right?”

“Roy—”

“I mean, you’ve been just listening to me talk for, what, an hour? Don’t you have school tomorrow? God, I should just let you sleep. Yeah. You know you’re too nice, right? You shouldn’t – I shouldn't—”

“Roy,” Wally snaps. “Shut up.”

The line falls quiet. Wally listens to Roy’s ragged breathing, the quick pulls of his breath before he mumbles sorry.

It irritates him, for some reason. Or maybe that’s just the late hour that’s getting to him. “Look,” Wally sighs. “Do you want me here or not?”

“Yeah,” Roy admits quietly. “Yeah, Wally, of course I do. Why do you think I called you?”

“Because nobody else would pick up,” Wally says, mouth jumping ahead of his brain again.

“Nah.” Roy murmurs. “You’re the first one I called.”

In the same soft voice, Wally says, “I bet that’s what you tell everyone.”

“Wally,” Roy says with a crackling sigh. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that you’re someone’s first choice?”

The words are making him – making him feel some type of way. Wally chews his lip, sinking further into the blankets even though his body feels like it’s too hot right now. “Don’t use that tone on me,” he says, and through some miracle of will manages to keep his voice sounding even and unimpressed. “I’m not one of your groupies.”

“Groupies, huh?” Roy says with a low laugh that sends more curls of heat unfurling in his belly. “I guess I’ll have to try harder to impress you.”

He doesn’t mean it, Wally reminds himself, pressing his thighs together and then kicking off a corner of his blanket, pretending that’s the reason for the hot flush racing over his skin. “I don’t know, Roy. It might be a bit too late for that.”

“Come on,” Roy wheedles. “Admit it. You think I’m a total smokeshow.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Wally says, which may as well be a yes, and Roy’s smug silence tells him that he knows it, too. “Anyway, being hot isn’t that impressive.”

“So you do think I’m hot.”

“Roy.”

“Maybe I should take you on a date,” Roy muses, and Wally almost drops his phone.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and Roy chuckles, warm and fond.

“A date, Wally,” he says, sounding far more confident now that he’s back in the familiar territory of throwing Wally off with each step. “You do know what those are, right?”

“Of course I know what-” Wally scowls. “You can’t just do that.”

“Do what?”

“You can’t just – you have to actually like the person you’re taking out, first.”

“I do like you, Wally,” Roy says, so plain, so easy, and Wally resists the urge to chuck his phone at the wall. That’s not what he means, and Roy knows it, and he’s so frustrating. He’s so…

“Fine,” he grits out.

A short silence. “Really?” Roy asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, Roy,” he snaps. “Fine. Take me out.”

Roy laughs. “Come on, don’t sound so glum.” For once his tone isn’t dripping all full of suggestion when he says. “I’ll make it good for you.”

“Right,” Wally says, abruptly too tired to be angry. “Sure. Okay.”

“Okay?” Roy coaxes, sounding so soft and careful, and Wally… hates him, a little. Hates himself more, because why is he so stupid, why can he never think –

Why him. Why him?

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the hot mess here.”

“Keep calling me hot, and I might start getting ideas.”

Personally, Wally thinks they’re already long past that, but what does he know, huh. If anything, this conversation proves that the answer is jack shit. “You already said you’d take me out on a date,” he says through another yawn, as if to prove to himself that he really is the master of digging holes that his future self will have to claw his way out of. “No taking it back now.”

“I did, huh,” Roy muses, and at least he doesn’t sound regretful. Not that it matters, considering he won’t remember any of this conversation when he sobers up, but… at least he isn’t regretting it now, in this moment.

It’s a sad consolation, if you can even call it that. There's… not much you can call it at all, really, except.

Except nothing. It’s nothing.

Wally blinks at the darkness outside his window, wondering if Roy is looking at the same sky right now.

“What do you prefer, flowers?” Roy is saying, and his voice sounds like it’s getting thicker, too. “Candles? Yeah, bet you’d go gaga for that shit. J'st wanna be wooed, huh?”

“What are you, twelve?” Wally asks, wishing he’d just shut up. Because the more he goes on about it, the more he wants, and hell, he should’ve just tried dissuading Roy from this whole train of thought in the first place. Not that dissuading ever works well with him. Brings on the opposite, in fact, which is the only reason Wally is humouring him right now and not telling him to go to hell. And shit – maybe it’s just nice, okay? Maybe it’s just nice pretending that he can have it, have an iota of what he craves for.

And god, it’s fucking pathetic that he’ll take it, and he knows, okay? He knows.

Roy makes a sleepy murmur, no doubt the start of another smart-alecky reply, but it seems like he’s finally starting to drift off. “Hey, Roy,” Wally says, and he’s quiet for so long this time that Wally’s starting to think he might’ve passed out on him.

“What?” He finally asks, and Wally chews on his lip, staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re going to be okay, right?” he asks, and it’s always a gamble with Roy because you never knows how he’s going to take your concern.

Roy is quiet for another long while, and then he lets out another soft hum. And he sounds exhausted, tired down to the bone, but he says, “Yeah, baby. Yeah, I’m great.”

“Liar,” Wally says, and it comes out too fond. Too transparent. But – god, but it feels like Roy is burning a hole in his chest right now, reaching right in and tugging at all his worries.

“Nah.” Roy chuckles. “Got all the riches in the world, remember? Don’t worry about me.”

Roy doesn’t seem to get that it’s not something he can just turn on and off. “Sure,” Wally says anyway, because it’s what he wants to hear.

“Thanks, Wally,” Roy says quieter, and Wally… doesn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“Whatever,” he says, and hopes that Roy will take it for what it is – as an anytime and not I don’t care, because fuck, he does.

He cares so much that it makes him hurt, sometimes. But at least that part’s not anything new.

Roy’s slow breathing stays on the line, eventually growing heavy with sleep. Wally counts each heavy exhale ticking down like a metronome, every slow beat a reassurance that Roy is still alive, still here, until eventually he falls asleep, too.

[adobe-outdesign]

Opportunities

When opportunity knocks, you have to answer.

Warnings: Some implied violence, though nothing explicitly shown

“What would you say... if I told you that you could be Alice Angel permanently?”

Susie wiped the tears from her face, smudging a thin layer of eyeliner across her cheek. “W- What do you mean? Allison already-”

“Susie, Susie. We only switched the roles around in order to boost the character’s popularity! You’re the one and only Alice, as far as I’m concerned.”  Joey drew Susie closer to him, putting an arm around her still trembling shoulders.

“You really mean that, Joey?” Susie took a deep breath to steady herself, slightly ashamed of her little breakdown. She took a lock of hair and tucked it back into place in a weak attempt to fix her disheveled appearance.

“Of course! That’s why I’m extending this offer to you before I give it to Allison. She’d work decently, but I don’t think she has half the passion for Alice’s character that you do.”

“I- I mean, I’d love to accept immediately, but you still haven’t explained what the part is.”

Joey beamed, moving to the center of the room. “Imagine a world where Alice Angel is real. Not a cartoon, not a person in a cheap suit. The actual character herself, in the flesh and... ink, I suppose.”

Joey grabbed a book off the shelf and began to flip through it rapidly as he spoke. “I’ve always said that with enough belief, you can accomplish anything. This is no exception. Why do you think I bought that machine?”

“To produce ink...?“

“Not to produce it, to enhance it! You can’t do anything with regular old ink. But this? You can meld it into almost anything, provided you sacrifice a little something in return. That’s how we’ve been making all those Alice toys.” Joey abruptly slammed his book shut, turning back to her. “So? What do you say?”

“I mean- Well, the idea of bringing Alice to life is... amazing. I can’t imagine anything better than people being able to meet her in person. And I’m sure she’d love it too.“ Susie twirled a loose piece of hair around her finger. “But I’m confused. Why do you need me for this?”

“Simple. The machine can create inanimate objects just fine, but for something living... it needs something else. Something to give it substance, life. All people have that something by default. And if we want to make Alice real, I need to use someone close to her for it to work properly. That someone is you, obviously.”

“I don’t know, Joey. Wouldn’t that... hurt?”

“Of course not!,” he reassured her, his smile just a little too big, his enthusiasm just a bit too forced. “It’s no different than going to sleep. You drift off as normal old Susie Campbell, and wake up as an angel. Everyone will love you.”

Susie sat down on the adjacent couch, mind racing. I can be Alice Angel.

"I- Well, I mean, I’m certainly interested. But do you think I could have a few days just to, you know, think it over-?“

“Of course, of course! This is a big decision for you to make. Just consider it and let me know when you’ve made up your mind,“ Joey offered, sliding onto the couch next to her and putting his hand on hers. “But I know you’ll make the right choice. After all, opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime!”

"So, what do you say?”

Wally adjusted his position on the couch. “I don’t know, Joey. Are you sure you want me for this? I’m not exactly a voice actor or animator or anythin’-”

“Absolutely! You’d be a perfect Boris. You do feel like he’s similar to you, right?”

“Well yeah, sure I do, but-”

“Then that settles it! You’ll have your own living space right here in the studio along with all the food you can eat. The only thing you’ll have to do is greet guests that come through and record a few shorts now and then.”

“Hey, hey, hold the phone here! I didn’t say I’d do it yet. Wouldn’t that I mean I wouldn’t be a person anymore? Don’t get me wrong, I like the Bendy shorts as much as the next fellow, but I have things I still wanna do. Marry someone, maybe have some kids one day. I don’t even have my own place yet! And I wanna go to Club 21 and-”

“Relax, relax! You’re focusing far too much on the little details. Think bigger! You won’t age. You won’t get sick. You’d effectively be immortal, and any injuries you did get would be healed with just a bit of ink. You’d never have to worry about rent or living expenses again, and everyone would adore you. Doesn’t that sound better than living in a dingy little apartment for the rest of your life?”

Joey moved over to the couch, setting his hand on the other man’s back. “When opportunity comes knocking, you have to answer! That and a little belief is how I got to where I am today. So? What do you say?“

Grant rubbed his temples as he slouched over the desk, staring down at the sheets of paper in front of him. 465 + 2673. He ran his eyes down the columns, adding the numbers up mentally, trying to figure out where the error was. 3721 + 287...

A knot formed in his stomach as he went back to the first page, redoing the math for a third time. If he couldn’t account for the sudden deficit, he’d be fired. Or worse, be forced to shoulder it himself.

The thought made him feel ill. Such a massive debt with no job and a blacklisting from one of the most famous studios in the area... he’d be on the streets in no time.

Or he’d have to admit that he was a failure.

Grant gave up for the moment, leaning back over the chair and putting his hands on his face as his thoughts drifted to the conversation Joey and him had had a few days ago.

The very idea of making a physical cartoon was absurd in and of itself, really. And the angel that Joey had presented as evidence wasn’t terribly compelling, seeing as it was nothing but Susie Campbell in heavy make up.

He wouldn’t have even considered it possible if it hadn’t been for Boris. He had to admit, the idea of the wolf being a person in a costume was dubious at best, given the proportions of the thing. He had even seen it consume some bacon soup at one point without any noticeable difficulty. It really was like the character had just walked right off of the silver screen.

Grant returned to his papers, trying to shove the thoughts out of his mind, but every new string of numbers that failed to add up brought the thoughts up again. The very notion of letting Joey do God only knows what to him to make him into a cartoon spider was both ridiculous and even vaguely offensive. But Boris had looked... content. Happy, even.

And if he went through with it, the debt wouldn’t be on his shoulders anymore.

Grant shook his head and returned his gaze to his final, unwavering calculation.

$48,128 short. 

"All right, Mr. Drew, I’m here. Tell me where this leak is.” Thomas looked down the hallway with a wary expression, as if imagining what kind of issue lay at the end of it.

“Thomas! Glad to see you showed up. I was beginning to worry.“ Joey motioned for him to follow him, falling in stride with the shorter man.

“I said I’d show up, didn’t I?” Thomas gave a wary look at the pipes above them.

“Only after some strong negations.”

“I already told you. I want nothing to do with you or this damn machine of yours. You’re lucky I even accepted double for this.“

The conversation stopped as they entered the room in question, the broken ink pipe above them being nearly impossible to miss. While the flow had been shut down, there was still a sizeable amount of ink dripping down the glass and creating a huge puddle on the floor.

“Don’t you have that Franks kid here to clean this mess up? It’s going to be that much harder to fix these bolts when they’re covered in that godforsaken ink.”

“He’s... no longer with us, actually. You know how it is. Life gave him an opportunity he just couldn't pass up.”

“Mmph.” Thomas had already turned his attention away from Joey, instead setting down his toolbox and selecting a large wrench from the contents.

"And speaking of opportunity-“

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

“Are you positive?” There was a degree of playful to Joey’s voice, like he expected this response and was merely going through the steps. “You should at least find out what you’re passing up before declining.“

“Don’t need to know. I came here to fix a pipe, and that’s it. I told you, I want nothing to do with this place anymore. There’s something wrong with all of this.”

“I see. Well, if you’ve made up your mind there’s not much I can do about it. Meet me in the Ink Machine room when you’re done and I’ll give you your payment.”

“Isn’t that Grant’s job?“

“Grant... also left us. There were some issues with our budget.“

Thomas narrowed his eyes, but didn’t pursue the topic further, instead focusing his attention on the pipe as Joey left the room. Two hours later, the excess ink had been cleared away and the pipe was once against securely fastened together. He threw the wrench back into the toolbox and begrudgingly made his way to the Ink Machine.

Inside the room were about fifty or so employees, all wearing Bendy masks.

“What the hell-?” Thomas turned back the door, but a few of the masked people had already moved in front of it, effectively blocking him in. Joey walked forward from the rest of the group and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling down at him.

“Why don’t we talk about that offer again, Barley?”

“You want me to be makin’.... clothes?”

“Clothes and everything else on that list. Think you can manage?“

Shawn squinted down at the piece of paper in his hand. “I’m not sure. I’ve never made anythin’ other than the dolls.”

“It’s the same basic principal. Just mold the ink into whatever you need and the rest will happen automatically.”

“I suppose I can manage. But why do you need these thingamabobs?”

“I only have one set of clothes for each cartoon. Unfortunately, belief isn’t going to do anyone’s laundry,” Joey said, chuckling.

“And the weapons?”

“I can’t say too much yet. Strictly hush-hush. But... let’s just say there are some new creations that will be very happy to have them.”

Shawn gave him a questioning look, but simply turned his attention back to the paper. “When do you be needin’ these by?”

“Two days.”

“I can’t make them that fast! Today’s almost over, and even if I pull the entire shift tomorrow I still won’t be able to produce this much that quickly-”

“Nonsense! I made all of our friends in less time than that, and they’re actually alive.” Joey snapped his fingers. “You could do it if you had some proper motivation, I bet! See what dreams are really made of. You haven’t personally met any of the characters, have you?”

The trip to the archives resulted in nothing but ink and a few curious stares from other employees. Shawn picked up a bacon soup can off of a shelf and turned it over as Joey searched the area, already loosing his patience. “How do you lose your own cartoons?”

“They’re allowed to move around,” Joey called out, voice resonating from a different section. “I just didn’t expect them to move around this much.“

Shawn looked around the room, clearly impatient. “Well if you don’t have anythin’ to be showin’ me, I’m going to head back up to the-”

Something brushed his neck.

Shawn swore loudly and fell back in shock, clutching his neck. A giant spider was dangling on a black string before him, staring at him with pie-cut eyes. Venom dripped steadily from its pure white fangs, leaving a dark spot on the floorboards. Above him was a massive spider web, black strands strung across the edges of the room.

“See? I knew they were around here!” Joey smacked the toy maker on his back and Shawn jumped again, unaware that he had returned from wherever he had disappeared to. The spider turned and climbed back up the silk strand the way a person climbing up a rope would, perching on top of the far bookshelf.

“The- the bastard just tried to bite me!” Shawn rubbed his neck, half expecting to feel puncture wounds there, but the skin was unbroken.

“Is that so?” Joey looked towards the spider and for a moment something dark flashed across his face, but it was gone just as quickly. “Well, they obviously aren’t completely perfect, but we can try to fix that later.”

“How in the seven hells did you make-?“

“Edgar! Have you seen Barley anywhere?” Joey called, ignoring the question entirely. Edgar didn’t speak, instead stretching a middle limb out to the right with a sickening cracking noise. Shawn briefly wondered if that hurt.

“This way!” Joey grabbed the toy maker and moved to the right, the Irishman twisting around to keep an eye on the spider. Edgar turned and crawled straight up the far wall, and Shawn could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a human hand at the end of one of his legs as he moved.

The room that Edgar had been pointing to turned out to be a massive storage room that had completely flooded with ink from a broken pipe. A makeshift dock had been assembled out of what appeared to be loose floorboards, and at the end of it sat a small sailor, smoking a pipe, fishing line deep in the ink. Shawn briefly wondered what exactly he was trying to catch.

“Barley!”

Barley glanced over at them, grunted, and then returned his gaze to the inky abyss before him. His eyepatch was gone, and in its place a human-like eye sat buried deep in an otherwise empty socket. Shawn felt a shudder of disgust run through his body.

“He’s not much for conversation,” Joey said apologetically, pulling Shawn away again. “But speaking of conversation...”

“What, the items again?” Shawn allowed Joey to pull him along, still trying to process what he had just seen. He had seen Alice and Boris when Joey had introduced them to the studio, but he had simply assumed that it was make up or some sort of animatron. But these things... they were definitely alive, and something about that fact made him feel uneasy.

“No, not the items.” Joey waved his hand dismissively, and Shawn got the feeling that it was never about the items to begin with. “Didn’t you notice anyone missing?“

Shawn racked his mind, trying to recall all of the Bendy shorts. “The... little leprechaun fellow?”

“Correct! It doesn’t feel right without Charley here, does it?”

“I don’t think it would be feelin’ any better with him.” Shawn glanced over at the library, half expecting to see Edgar crawling after him, but the room was still.

“Sure it would! You can’t have the Butcher Gang without all three of them. Otherwise you don’t even have a gang to begin with. And I think I’ve found the perfect candidate for him.”

“Candidate? What are you-?”

Something clicked.

“Joey? How did you make these cartoons again?” Shawn asked, moving back away from him, things slowly piecing themselves together in his mind.

“I told you. Belief!“

“And what else?” Sweat started to drip down his back as he remembered how many employees had ”quit” the company over the last few weeks.

Joey simply smiled, and Shawn ran.

Upstairs, a few dozen Bendy masks met him outside the elevator.

[backtothestart02]

The First Day of Forever - 2/? | westallen fanfiction

*Written for westallen wedding week. Hoping to finish this multi-chap between today and tomorrow. First chapter is here.

It should be noted that I started this fic last summer, so it’s in a post-s2 setting where post-FP consequences weren’t as severe as what s3 gave us. So, Dante didn’t die, Cait didn’t get cold powers, Wally (prob) didn’t get super speed, WA’s first kiss (2.23) didn’t get erased, etc.

Enjoy!

(Also, this is unbeta’d. I won’t be posting it elsewhere until it is. :P)

Chapter 2 -

Caitlin popped into the private hotel dining room about twenty minutes after the rest of the girls had gotten there. Iris was idly picking at the fruit on her plate, almost missing her mouth a couple times as she stared out the window wistfully.

“Hey, guys,” the brunette said, setting down the bag of supplies she’d brought with her.

Linda, Stacy, and Felicity looked up to see the new arrival. The latter jumping to her feet to welcome her friend with a hug.

“Hey, Caitlin,” Linda said deliberately, elbowing Iris who sat beside her.

Iris blinked at looked at the new arrival.

“Oh. Hey, Caitlin.”

“Iris.” Caitlin grinned, amused. She rounded the table and presented her with the tiara she’d pulled out of the bag she brought with her. “I know you probably won’t need this until we get to the church, but the shop called me early this morning, and I thought I’d surprise you.”

Iris nearly dropped her fork as she took the headpiece gingerly from her.

“Oh my god, Caitlin, it’s beautiful.” She looked up at her, mouth hanging open.

Caitlin shrugged modestly.

Iris reached out and squeezed her hand gently.

“I’m so, so glad you’re my wedding planner.” Caitlin attempted to protest, but Iris kept going. “And not just for this…gorgeous piece, but everything. The location, the professional hairstylist, the custom-made dresses that – because of your connection – were half the price they would’ve been in a normal store.”

“I knew some girls from college who abandoned their science majors halfway through their sophomore year to opt for beauty school. One of them even decided their calling was to become a wedding planner. What are the odds?” She paused. “Plus, you know, I had all those ideas I never got to incorporate…you know…with Ronnie.

A sweet sympathy colored Iris’s face.

“Well, it means a lot to me,” she said sincerely. “You’ve done more than your share, keeping us all on track with everything and making sure everything goes according to plan.”

“Not to mention keeping the guys in check,” Linda muttered under her breath.

Iris’s hand dropped from Caitlin’s as her eyes narrowed in on her best friend’s.

“The guys? The guys?” Eager eyes fixed on Caitlin. “You’ve seen Barry today?”

“No, she hasn’t,” Linda insisted, but her poker face was terrible.

Especially when Caitlin said at the same time, “Well, technically—”

“I saw them,” Felicity burst out, holding up her phone with an image clear as day. “Oliver sent me a—”

Linda nearly lunged to the other side of the table to take the phone from her and tuck it into her small handbag, sitting instead now farther away from Iris.

Iris’s brows narrowed. “Was that really necessary, Lin?”

“I don’t know, Iris, what time is it?”

“9:05,” Felicity chirped, looking at the clock over Iris’s head on the wall. She then glanced back and forth between the slightly miffed Linda and the innocently shrugging Iris. “I-I wasn’t supposed to answer that, was I?”

Stacy looked down at her plate, stabbing her fruit with some success as she shook her head.

“Right…”

“And what time did you talk to Barry this morning?” Linda pressed, ignoring the interruption.

“I hardly think that matters. We still have time—”

“Two hours ago.”

Iris’s mouth snapped shut.

“So, no, we’re not wasting another hour waiting for you to get past how gorgeous you think your husband-to-be is.” She relaxed into her chair, shifting in an instant from scolding to cheerful. “We have a church get to.”

Iris bit her bottom lip and nodded. Linda gestured to her plate.

“Eat.”

…

 Oliver stared Barry down from the other end of the table. Wally’s hand paused mid-bite, pancakes stuffed onto his fork. Cisco ate at his own usual pace. Joe hesitantly set another plate of pancakes and other breakfast dishes on the table with the container of orange juice he’d pulled from the refrigerator. After a beat, he pushed them farther down the table towards the other men seated there. Away from Barry, who was stuffing his face at a speed impossible to most.

Oliver set down his glass of orange juice deliberately as he reached for the carton.

Barry paused and looked up at him, and everyone else staring at him. Even Cisco had set down his utensils, mildly concerned.

“Whaght?” Barry asked with a full mouth. He reached for the glass of orange juice Joe had set in front of him.

“Son, slow down,” Joe said, sitting beside him.

Barry swallowed his food, that a large gulp of orange juice, wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand – to which Joe tossed a napkin at him and thanked his lucky stars the boy hadn’t come in his wedding attire.

“I don’t want to be late,” Barry said by way of apology.

“It’s 10:30, Barry,” Oliver said from across the table.

Barry waited.

“The ceremony doesn’t start till two, Bear,” Joe filled in, selecting food to put on his own plate. “It’ll take you an hour for all of us to get ready – max. Then maybe an hour to get ready once we get to the church. That gets us to 12:30. Still an hour and half to go.”

Barry slouched in on himself for barely a second before he sat up straight, grinning proudly. Oliver’s eyebrows narrowed subtly.

“Maybe I can see Ir—”

The glare from Joe beside him made him stop mid-sentence.

“You are not seeing my baby girl before I do.”

He swallowed hard. “Okay, but maybe after you—”

“And once I see her, no one will be seeing her until the ceremony, because I will be walking her down the aisle.” His eyes squinted. “You didn’t forget about the crucial importance of not seeing the bride before the wedding, did you?”

Barry sighed. “No,” he grumbled.

“Good.”

“Not that that should keep you from being excited,” Cisco assured him, slapping his arm with enthusiasm.

Barry flinched slightly, frowning at the brief sting his best friend’s hand brought. Then he turned back to Joe.

“Since you’ll be the only one of us seeing her…”

Wally raised his hand. “I’ll be seeing her.”

“I probably will too,” Oliver volunteered. Joe glanced over at him. “Felicity will likely be with her, and I don’t have to wait until the ceremony to see the woman I love.” He offered no sympathetic look to Barry.

“You know I got your back,” Cisco said when Barry turned to him. The latter smiled, appreciating the gesture, but he started to frown when his best friend appeared to waver. “But things happen… What if Caitlin—”

“Oh, God.” He put his face in his hands.

Cisco looked to Joe nervously. The older man didn’t meet his eyes at first, determined to hold his ground, but eventually he caved. Barry was like a son to him, and there was no one in the world he felt was more deserving of marrying his daughter.

He dug out his phone, flipped through his photos until he found the one he wanted, and then nudged Barry’s elbow.

“What?” Barry said into the table.

“Look.”

Barry lifted his head, saw a glimpse of Iris on the phone, and immediately took the device from his future father-in-law.

It wasn’t Iris in her wedding dress. It wasn’t even Iris from earlier that morning. But it was Iris from the night before. She’d come to visit her dad on the eve of her wedding, her last night as a single woman, and Wally had hidden in the kitchen, recording the whole scene on his dad’s phone.

“I get to marry Barry tomorrow, Dad. Can you believe it?” Her eyes sparkled, and Barry’s breath caught in his throat.

“Baby girl,” Joe said in the video, wiping away the happy tears streaming down her face and pulling her into a hug. “I’m so happy for both of you.”

The video ended. Barry looked up at Joe with tears in his eyes, and despite himself, Joe had some of them too.

“It’s not even the ceremony yet. How are these guys going to last?” Oliver muttered beneath his breath.

Wally grinned, overhearing. “They’re not.”

Everyone at the table resumed eating. Barry didn’t speed-eat this time, and Joe smiled, a warmth spreading through him that he knew would carry him far beyond the events of the day.

His daughter was going to be Iris West-Allen.

It was more than he could have ever dreamed.

[lopithecusfanfiction]

A Life So Changed: Chapter Fifty-Two

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2398 Alternate: AO3, fanfiction.net Author's Note: N/A

Chapter Fifty-Two:

Bruce types into the search bar in the browser and hits enter. He’s sitting on the couch in the lounge, laptop on his lap as his legs are out stretched along the seat cushions. A fluffy, warm blanket is covering his legs, Alfred insisting on it as the weather begins to get cooler. A nice, warm fire crackles in the fireplace and for once, Bruce actually feels pretty good. The only symptom he has for today is being overly fatigued but he will take that over having headaches and Braxton Hicks cramps.

“Father,” Damian announces himself as the young boy approaches the couch. “I have something for,” Damian scowls, “the half breed you are carrying.”

Bruce decides to not comment on the insult and instead grabs for the wooden object Damian has been working on so diligently lately. Studying it, Bruce realizes what it is. It’s wood carved into a falcon, something that means affection, royalty, and good luck in the culture Damian grew up in. Bruce stares at it in awe, surprised Damian would make such a thing for Lara.

“This is for the baby?” he asks, wanting to make sure he understands Damian’s intentions.

Damian looks away, face scrunched in defiance. Bruce has a feeling the young boy is trying to hide his caring for his younger sister. “Yes, I thought she would like it. There’s no chemicals on it to cure or protect the wood so I suggest you keep it out of her mouth.” With crossed arms, Damian turns around and starts leaving.

“Damian,” Bruce calls after his youngest son. “Thank you. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Tt,” is the only response Bruce receives before Damian disappears from the room.

Bruce looks down at the wooden figure once more, small, fond smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He’s glad Damian seems to be warming up to the fact that he will be getting a little sister and that that sister will be part Kryptonian. Running a finger across the beak of the falcon, Bruce carefully sets it down onto the coffee table and continues his search. Finding a couple of good looking places, he opens them in different tabs to not lose them.

He had called Clark to come over about an hour ago but so far, the Kryptonian hasn’t shown up. Grabbing his cellphone, Bruce taps in a text, wondering where the alpha could be. He receives one back that he is almost there and just as Bruce is setting his phone down in annoyance, a gush of air blows behind him.

A kiss lands on the top of his head before Clark comes into view. Bruce glares at the papers that just flew all over the place from where they were neatly stacked on the coffee table, alphabetically.

“Sorry, I’m so late,” Clark starts, sounding out of breath but Bruce knows better. “I had to stop a robbery on the way here.”

Swallowing his annoyance down, Bruce swings his legs over the side of the couch and then pats the spot beside him. “Sit.”

Clark does, looking wary. “What is it? Am I in trouble? It was a legit robbery, Bruce, machine guns and all.”

Bruce shakes his head, stifling a chuckle. “No, you’re not in trouble. Here.” He hands the laptop over to Clark.

The alpha studies one of the pages that are up. “Lamaze classes?”

Bruce hums, taking the laptop back. “I thought we could start going.”

“Isn’t it a little early?” Clark asks, squinting at the screen.

“I’m starting my sixth month, Clark,” Bruce says. “I mean, they suggest you start going when you are around twenty-eight weeks but I got to thinking, you know this isn’t a normal human pregnancy. What if Kryptonian babies take a shorter amount of time to grow and I have Lara early? I think it’s just better to go and get it done and over with.”

“I’m pretty sure Kryptonians carry for a full nine months just like humans do,” Clark mumbles and Bruce rolls his eyes.

“Look, all I’m saying is that it would be nice to be prepared.” Bruce clicks on another tab so Clark can look that one over as well.

Clark’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, I get it now. This is your typical ‘need to be prepared for everything’ shtick.” Bruce glares at him and Clark chuckles. “Okay, fine. I will indulge you and your weird habits.”

“You love my weird habits.” Clark chuckles more at Bruce’s comment. “Just take a look at these. I was thinking this one would be best because they go over how best to go through the birthing process without drugs.”

“You want to do it without drugs?” Clark asks, taking the laptop once more and switching between tabs, reading the pages at super speed.

“You’re surprised?” Bruce asks. “You’re talking to someone who won’t even take painkillers when he is injured.”

Clark huffs. “But you take painkillers when you have a headache?”

Bruce shrugs. “I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“Right.” Clark stops on the page that mentions drug free births. “I guess we can go to this one. Looks like they are filled though.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, grabbing for the computer. Clark hands it back. “You underestimate the influential power of Bruce Wayne.” Clark is smiling at him and Bruce does his best to ignore how cute the alpha is as he looks for a number to call. Finding one, he grabs his phone and dials.

“Hello, how may I help you?” A young sounding woman answers the phone.

“Yes, hi,” Bruce begins. “I would like to book a spot for your classes starting next week.”

Bruce listens as tapping on a keyboard can be heard on the other line. “I’m sorry Sir, it looks like that class is all filled.”

“Even for Bruce Wayne?” Bruce says, making his voice as velvety as possible.

“Oh!” The woman exclaims. “Mister Wayne! You should have said so before. Of course, we can open a spot for you. It’s no problem.” More clicking on the other line as Bruce smiles smugly at Clark who is shaking his head in amusement. “You’re all set. I look forward to seeing you next week.”

“Thank you so much.” Bruce hangs up the phone and smirks at Clark. “See?”

Clark chuckles. “Working your magic as always.”

Bruce grabs Clark by the cape and pulls him forward, letting his mouth rest an inch away from Clark’s. “Just wait until I make you my mate. Then you can take advantage of the privileges as well.”

“You know I won’t,” Clark says.

Bruce pushes away from the alpha playfully. “I know.”

Bruce begins shutting down the tabs when Alfred walks in. “You have a visitor, Master Bruce.”

Bruce looks up and his smile that he had from his playfulness with Clark, immediately disappears. “What are you doing here?” he growls.

Wally shuffles on his feet, hands wringing together. “I wanted to talk to you.” His eyes dart to Clark’s. “Hey, Clark.”

Clark smiles at the young omega as Bruce glares. “Hey Wally.” The alpha then gets up, leaning over to Bruce to whisper, “Don’t be too hard on him.” As he walks by Wally, Clark pats his shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”

Once Clark is out of the room, Wally starts lowly, “Can I sit?” Bruce doesn’t answer and Wally continues to stand there. The omega looks tired, heavy bags under his eyes. Hesitantly, Wally goes and sits down on the coffee table, across from Bruce. “I’m sorry about what happened to Clark.” Still, Bruce says nothing, feeling his anger at the speedster boiling under the surface. “I shouldn’t have gone out, I realize that now, but I needed a distraction, Bruce. I couldn’t stay in my head anymore. You don’t know what it’s like to have thoughts going through your head at super speed. You can think a lot within seconds as a speedster and I just… I wanted to think about something else for a while.”

“Why?” Bruce asks, his tone sounding agitated.

Wally looks down at his hands, looking uncomfortable. “Because the last time Dick and I talked, we talked about feelings.”

“I’m very much aware of that, Wally,” Bruce says. “Dick said so.”

Wally’s eyes widen but then his eyebrows furrow. “Did he tell you specifically what we talked about?” Bruce shakes his head. “I told him, Bruce. I told him how I feel about him, that I love him.” Wally shrugs. “He doesn’t love me, Bruce.”

Bruce’s anger is depleting into confusion. Is Dick in denial like Clark had been or had Bruce read the situation wrong this whole time? “What?”

“He told me he doesn’t feel the same way. That he loves Kori. He told me I’m his best friend, his family.” Wally shakes his head. “That he never will love me the way I love him.”

“Maybe you just need to give it time. Look how long it took me and-”

“No, Bruce,” Wally interrupts. “Our situation isn’t like yours and Clark’s.” Wally chuckles humorlessly. “Dick told me that he had planned on me being a surrogate for him and Kori. How is that supposed to equate a secret love for me, Bruce?” Wally sniffles. “He doesn’t love me. He’s not going to love me. And I keep thinking about that, wishing that I could just use my powers to go back in time and change everything. Being able to do that is right at the tips of my fingers and I can’t do it because the consequences would be worse than they are now. But I want to.” Wally wipes a tired hand down his face. “Even though I deserve this.”

“Wally,” Bruce starts. “No one deserves this.”

“Yes, I do,” Wally says. “We hurt Kori so much, Bruce. Of course, I deserve this.” Again, Wally shakes his head. “I just want to move on, Bruce. I want to stop thinking about it, about what we did and about the baby that I-” Wally chokes and tears roll down his cheeks. The omega reaches up and wipes them away, taking a deep breath. “Maybe move on with an alpha instead of relying on betas,” Wally states. “It would be less complicated.”

Bruce refrains from saying anything about the fact that being with an alpha isn’t less complicated at all. Instead he asks, “Betas? Plural?”

Wally eyes him. “They’re no alpha but at least it’s something.” He shrugs. “It’s better than toys.”

“As someone who has been with multiple betas in the past as well, I will give you that one.” Bruce’s statement causes Wally to smile, even if small, and Bruce smiles at seeing it.

Wally sniffles again, his mood seeming to lighten slightly. “Kyle keeps trying to help me work through everything.”

“He’s being a good beta.”

“He’s being a good friend,” Wally corrects. “He’s concerned about me. Wants to take care of me. He’s been coming over and cooking for me to make sure I eat. Stays the night to make sure I sleep. He even makes me go outside occasionally.”

Bruce furrows his brows a little. “He’s being a really good beta.” It’s strange to Bruce that Kyle would want to take care of Wally in such a way. Though needing to take care of others is in a beta’s nature, especially if the person is a friend or family member, the way Kyle is going about it isn’t normally how a beta would do it. The beta wouldn’t go out of their way to go to the person’s house to take care of them. The beta would only feel the need to take care of another when around them but it would go away once they were apart. This doesn’t seem to be the case with Kyle.

Bruce eyes Wally. “He’s a good friend,” Wally comments. “He’s helped a lot.”

“Good.” Bruce blinks and takes his eyes off Wally, trying to not think too deeply about Kyle’s weird behavior.

“Bruce,” Bruce looks up, back at the speedster. “I really am sorry about what happened to Clark.”

Bruce nods, swallowing and pushing Kyle out of his head. “I know you are, but Wally it can’t happen again. You not only put Clark in harm's way but everyone else that was out there as well. I know you want a distraction but you need to find something to do that doesn’t involve lives.”

Wally nods. “I know. Saving the day… it’s in my nature, my blood, Bruce. I don’t know how to just stop that.”

“As someone who also had a very hard time stopping, I’ll say it’s not going to be easy, Wally, but you need to figure it out.”

“How did you then? Stop?” Wally asks.

Bruce places a hand on his baby bump. “This little one. I couldn’t… I can’t endanger her, Wally. I won’t.” He shrugs. “So, I must set aside my pride and my drive, and force myself to not go out there and risk everything. She’s too important to me.”

Wally is nodding. “Just like my teammates and the civilians are important to me. That’s how I’ll stop?”

“If you think that will work for you. If you think that’s enough of a reason to not go out there again until you’re better,” Bruce tells him.

Wally looks at Bruce’s stomach and then his eyes meet Bruce’s. “I don’t want anyone to die because of me.”

“Then don’t let them,” Bruce says.

Wally nods again, keeping eye contact with Bruce. Something in the omega’s eyes changes, a sparkle of a little hope. “I won’t.” Wally gets up, looking around the room. “Thank you, Bruce, for listening to me.” Wally gives him a small smile before suddenly he’s gone.

The papers that were already strewn around the room from Clark rushing in, go flying everywhere once more. A knock comes from the threshold of the entryway and Clark enters back into the room. “So? How’d it go?”

Clark sits down next to Bruce. “I’m not sure. There were some ups and downs. Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course,” Clark says.

Bruce turns to the alpha. “Can you keep an ear on Wally. I’m worried about him.”

Clark nods. “Yeah, okay.” Clark’s eyebrows are scrunched in concern. “Is he going to be okay?”

Bruce shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

A/N: Thank you HillsHollow for the idea of what Damian's carving could be. I was originally going to look up wooden baby toys but I liked the thought of the falcon better. :) Thanks for reading everyone!