November 5: On a mission/Spell
Today was not going well for Wally, or the League as a whole, really. A certain fifth dimensional bastard who would not be named had gotten it into his head that a fun way to cause chaos in the League would be to swap their powers, which Wally immediately knew would suck ass for everyone. Especially whoever ended up with superspeed. And whoever got telepathy, for that matter.
So, when their powers were switched and Bruce collapsed to the ground, vibrations and a brand-new connection to the speedforce coursing through his body, Wally didnât panic. Instead, he calmly (but quickly) made his way to Bruce, kneeling down to sit next to him.
Bruce was glowing with the speedforce, and Wally could feel it in the air, the hum of ozone and ambient static electricity that he had come to be familiar with.
âB, can you look at me?â
Painstakingly, in what, to anyone else would be the blink of an eye, Bruce turned his face towards Wallyâs, though his eyes were unfocused.
Wally smiled warmly. âGood. A bit different in practice than theory, huh?â He kept his voice light, but it was much quieter than usual. Bruce probably wasn't having a good time when it came to his sensory experience, if Wallyâs own first experience with the speedforce was anything to go by. With superspeed, you had the time to take in everything, every little detail, every sound and bit of ambient noise that you could physically take in, and for someone not yet used to that who was also unaware of how to settle back into a ânormalâ frame of consciousness, it could be too much.
âI want to try something. Can you make a fist for me?â Bruce nodded, too fast for anyone not a speedster. In a flash, his clenched fists were in front of Wally.
âRelax,â he said, ghosting his fingers gently over the too-hot skin of Bruceâs fist, feeling the frantic vibration of his hands. âIf you dig your nails in youâll hurt yourself.â
Wally sighed as the tension in Bruceâs fists lessened, just a little. The tension in his shoulders did not go away, but it was good enough for now.
âI want you to name something you senseâ short answers onlyâ and when you name it, release a finger.â Wally placed his hands on the back of Bruceâs. âStart with sight.â
âWeâll skip taste. What do you hear?â
For each thing he said, Bruce released a finger, his breathing growling imperceptibly slow, the vibrating lessening.
âYoursuit. Tar. Your voice. Your hands on mine.â Slowly but surely, Bruce stopped vibrating, his hands still in Wallyâs. He turned them over, lacing his fingers through Wallyâs.
âIs this how you feel all the time?â Bruceâs voice was quiet as he stared down at where their fingers interlocked.
âAt first, yeah. I had to make a conscious effort to slow myself down, and let me tell you, I didn't know any sort of grounding methods like that, so it was meltdowns and sensory overload every few minutes for a very long time. The only upside was that I could speed up to have them so no one would notice. Eventually I adjusted, and figured out ways to calm myself down. It was certainly a learning curve, though.â Wally laughed quietly.
âWhat is there to be sorry for? Itâs not your fault.â
âIâm sorry that I couldn't be there to help you. You shouldn't have had to go through that alone.â
âB, you can't blame yourself for things that already happened.â
âWatch me.â Wally laughed at that, loud and genuine, something warm in his heart at the small smile that was evident on Bruceâs face.
Bruce leaned towards him, lifting his hand to gently touch Wallyâs cheek. Wally leaned into the touch, sure that his face was about to burst with joy.
âMay Iââ Bruce started to say, but Wally cut him off.
âI think you already know my answer, Mr. Worldâs Greatest Detective.â
And Bruce kissed him, still smelling like ozone, skin still warm from vibration. Static electricity quite literally zapped him as Bruce gently placed his hand on Wallyâs bicep.
It was a perfect kiss. Now they had a villain, or whatever Mr. Mxyzptlk was, to stop.