#sptifire

Me:

Commission for lotsofcaps!

History can be amazing. The Concorde and the Spitfire were just thirty years apart. And thirty plus years before the Spitfire there were no airplanes at all!

“Sing to me.”

“What?”

“You forgot Valentine’s Day - again - and you said you’d make it up me. I demand a song as part of that.”

Wally stared at his girlfriend, who was scowling at him. “But -” he began only to be cut off as Artemis’s scowl deepened.

“Right now?” He asked, hoping she’ll say no. She doesn’t.

“You understand that the only songs I can think of right now are, like, not at all romancey. Or mushy. Or -“

“As long as it’s not something like ‘I hate you,’ it’s fine.” Artemis growled.

Swallowing hard, Wally decided he might as well get this over with. “Okay, well, understand you’re kind of putting me on the spot, and that I only heard this at summer camp and it’s been a long while since I’ve been there, so I don’t remember the entire thing,” he began to explain, stopping when Artemis literally begins growling at him. “Anyway, here goes.”

He sang softly at first, more humming than singing, faltering a bit in embarrassment. Then Artemis’s eyes caught his, and somehow he began to remember more of the song and he’s not that embarrassed anymore. Well, he is, but now that doesn’t matter quite so much.

Artemis smiled at him when he finished. “That was nice.” She murmured. “You’ve got a good voice.”

“Yeah right. My voice cracks like half the time.”

“Sing me another?” She asked instead of arguing, because his voice has been cracking fairly often recently.

Dammit.

The day when I can hear the computer announce Artemis and Wally's names and numbers.

The day when they walk in holding hands.

The day when we learn that they've been dating for the past 5 years.