#kidflash

Synopsis: Wally West may have a messy romantic history, but with you, he’s determined to do things right. Braving your intimidating family, he shows up with takeout and a lot of nervous energy, trying not to mess up something that actually matters.

Wally West is very aware of the reputation that follows him around.

It’s not entirely unfair—but it’s not entirely right, either.

He’s not a bad guy. He knows that much with absolute certainty. Sure, he talks too fast, moves too fast, feels too much, and yeah—he’s dated a lot. Tried to date even more. Failed at that a lot more. But none of that makes him careless with people. If anything, it’s the opposite. Wally cares too much. Every mistake sticks with him longer than it should.

And right now?

Right now, he’s trying very, very hard not to make another one.

Because this—you—this actually matters.

“Sorry, babe—!”

The door nearly slams off its hinges as a blur of red streaks into the room. A second later, Wally stands there like he’s always been there, slightly out of breath, holding a takeout bag that’s still steaming.

“The line was insane, I swear. Like, criminally long.”

He gives you that sheepish grin—the one that usually gets him out of trouble.

Usually.

His eyes flick over you quickly, softening without him even realizing it. There’s something quieter there, underneath the energy. Something real.

He’s liked you for a long time. Longer than he ever planned to admit. It used to be easier when it was just admiration—from a distance, safely tucked behind jokes and casual friendship. Because crossing that line?

Yeah. That came with consequences.

Your brother made sure of that.

Dick’s still not over it. Not even close. The memory of a very justified punch to Wally’s face is still… fresh.

And somehow? Dick isn’t even the scariest one.

No, that title belongs to the looming presence of a certain dark, silent figure who doesn’t even need to say anything to make Wally feel like he’s one wrong move away from being launched through a wall.

Coming to the manor feels like walking into a battlefield.

A very judgmental, heavily trained, emotionally complicated battlefield.

“So—uh…” Wally shuts the door behind him, glancing over his shoulder like he expects someone to already be there. “Damian’s, like… fully retired, right? From the whole assassin thing?”

A pause.

“…No reason. Just asking. Casually.”

He is not being casual.

Not after the way Damian looked at him earlier. Wally’s pretty sure he’s been evaluated as a threat. Or prey. Possibly both.

He exhales, shaking it off. “You know what? Food. Food’s good. Let’s focus on that.”

You chuckle, soft and easy, and tilt your head toward the hallway.

“Want to go to my room instead of staying here?”

Wally perks up immediately.

There’s a very brief moment where hesitation flickers across his face—risk assessment, survival instinct, all that.

Then it’s gone.

“Yeah. Yep. Absolutely. Great idea. Best idea you’ve ever had.”

Because yeah—risking another run-in with your family?

Worth it.

Every time.

He follows you upstairs, careful this time, the takeout balanced in his hands like it’s something fragile. When you warn him not to mess up your bed, he gasps dramatically.

“Wow. Wow, okay. You think I’d do that? Me? The Flash? A man of refinement?”

A beat.

“…Okay, yeah, I’ve made mistakes before. But I’ve grown.”

Before you can respond, he zips ahead—and flops onto your bed.

Except… not quite.

He hovers just above it, vibrating slightly, holding the bag up like a trophy.

“See? No crumbs. No spills. Absolute perfection.”

That grin again—bright, a little smug, a little playful.

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed, and settle onto the bed yourself.

That’s when he finally drops the act.

Just a little.

The takeout gets placed safely on the nightstand this time, and he slides in beside you, slower now. His arm drapes around your waist like it belongs there. Like it’s always belonged there.

He exhales softly, relaxing into the warmth of the space—and you.

“Mm,” he murmurs, quieter now. “Smells like you.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly. “Well, yeah. It’s my bed.”

“Right, right,” he says, voice softer than before. Less performative. More… honest.

He shifts closer, resting his head near yours, nuzzling briefly against your neck without thinking about it.

There’s no rush in the movement.

For once.

“Guess that means it’s officially my favorite place.”

There’s a comfortable silence that settles in, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

Until you break it.

“We’ve got, what, fifteen minutes before someone comes looking for something?”

Wally groans immediately, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.

“Don’t say that. Don’t manifest that.”

He lifts his head slightly, frowning. “It’s gonna be Dick, isn’t it? Or—no, worse—Damian. I’m telling you, that kid is plotting something.”

You hum, fingers slipping into his hair, idly playing with the strands.

“Probably Jason.”

Wally freezes.

Then groans louder.

“Of course it’s Jason.”

But he doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans into your touch, eyes slipping half-closed as your fingers comb through his hair.

“Great. Awesome. Fantastic,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it. “He’s gonna roast me alive.”

A small pause.

Then, softer—

“…Worth it, though.”

He doesn’t elaborate.

He doesn’t need to.

Because the way his arm tightens slightly around you, the way he stays right there despite everything waiting outside that door—

It says enough.

Credits: I used a cai bot from @bisexuals4jasontodd as my base so all credits go to them.

teen titans, go!