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Flash was often criticized for being a risk-taker, but believe it or not, the risks were always calculated. Like the time he used expired mayo to save his dry, dry BLT. Or the time he jumped out of the Javelin when the engine exploded mid-flight.
Flirting with Batman? Huge risk; more so than plummeting into the Atlantic Ocean at terminal velocity. But he only flirted because he was fairly confident that the big bat liked it. Liked him, even.
It all started months ago, during a mission in Gorilla City. Wally had been caught by a mind-controlled gorilla, who picked him up like a Barbie doll and pulled his arms apart until the ligaments in his shoulder began to tear. The limbs would have been ripped out of the sockets completely, if not for a well-timed batarang aimed at the gorilla's elbow.
That part wasn't shocking. Batman saved all kinds of people all the time. The shocking part was this: after the mission had ended, Batman waited at the entrance of the Javelin, watching the others board. Then, when it was Flash's turn, he put a hand on Wally's lower back and guided him all the way into the plane.
In the five years he had worked with Bruce, the man had touched Flash like once, ever, and Wally was pretty sure that time was an accident.
With Batman's heavy hand resting on his back, Wally chalked the entire experience up to an anomaly and didn't think much else of it.
Then, a few weeks later, the League founders gathered to hear Batman's plan to reduce the League's collateral damages. Flash was slouched in his chair, rolling a cherry lollipop around his mouth absent-mindedly as he listened. He pulled the candy out for a few licks, catching Batman's eyes as he did so. Without thinking, Wally winked, and dragged his tongue across the lollipop. This caused Batman-- calm, cool, collected, Batman-- to stutter out his next thought so badly that he apologized and restarted the section.
He didn't look in Flash's direction again for the rest of the presentation.
At that point, Wally realized something was going on. He started to gather more evidence: Bruce was holding eye contact for at least 0.5 seconds longer. There was less scolding, and more teasing. Most incriminatingly, if Flash made one of his signature one-liners, Batman would actually laugh. He'd try to hide it, of course, but Wally would always catch the minuscule smile before Bruce looked away or smoothed it out.
So Flash dove right in and flirted back. He didn't bother with subtlety. He tested the waters one morning, greeting Batman at the teleportation pad with: "Hey, handsome."
Bruce had grunted in reply, but didn't otherwise comment on it.
Shayera, however, did comment on it, and dragged him to the infirmary, suspecting a head injury. But, as Flash's pick-up lines for Batman became a common occurrence, she and the rest of the League eventually grew to accept what they didn't understand. Wally, on his part, couldn't help but hope the flirting would lead to something more, but he knew that Bruce had the self-control of a monk.
It would take some truly extreme measures to get Batman to make a move.
Thump thump thump.
The steady sound of Batman's fists colliding with the punching bag reverberated around the room. His boots scuffed against the foam floor as he slid left and right between blows. Here, in the training ring, where he only had to focus on his breath and his body, Bruce could let his mind relax while muscle memory took over.
"Always keep your elbows tucked in, and rotate your hips with your arm," Batman instructed to the crowd of Leaguers, his words punctuated with several more jabs. "If you know you have good balance, don't be afraid to strike with your legs and knees. You can generate an enormous amount of power from your lower body." To demonstrate, he struck the bag with a roundhouse kick, sending the bag to the floor.
Batman paused to catch his breath before bending to pick the bag up. He felt his black cape fall sideways over one shoulder as he leaned over. Before he could readjust it, a wolf whistle sliced through the air, loud and sharp, eliciting scattered laughs from the other onlookers.
Batman scowled and rose to full height. He turned to face his audience, scrutinizing their faces. Any residual giggling in the crowd immediately ceased.
Only one idiot would dare to do something that idiotic.
"Flash," Batman called, "Since you've been paying close attention, why don't you come up here and show everyone what you've learned today?"
The crowd shuffled and parted to allow the speedster to slip through them. With a gust of wind, the Flash stood face-to-face with Batman, a wide, arrogant, annoying smile plastered on his face.
"You've got it, Bats. Let's give the people a show." He winked, then turned and bowed to the audience as they cheered in delight.
Idiot. It was going to be fun knocking that smile off his face.
Batman unbuckled his utility belt and dropped it to the floor. "First to tap out loses. No eye-gouging or strikes to the spine. No weapons. And no powers."
Flash tilted his head. "No powers? How come?"
"Superpowers are a tool that can be taken away. If you are ever caught in a situation where your powers are inaccessible, you need to know how to defend yourself with nothing but your fists." Without breaking eye contact, he brought the fingertip of his glove between his teeth and carefully pulled it off. Flash waited, watching the movement closely. He stared as Batman pulled the other glove off, then the gauntlets from both arms. He then removed his steel-toed boots, right foot first, then left. The garments were neatly piled in one corner of the ring.
Flash followed his lead and removed his own gloves and boots, although it was unlikely that spandex and running shoes could give any advantage. He tossed them one by one over his shoulder, not caring enough to see where they landed.
Batman could feel his breath quickening, his adrenaline pumping in anticipation. He was too tense; that was not ideal. Eyes closing for a moment, he took a long, deep breath, filling his lungs completely, before exhaling for 10 counts. In response, his heartbeat slowed, and calm washed over him.
Batman tucked his chin and raised his fists in a boxer's stance.
"Ready?" he questioned.
Flash rolled his head in long, slow circles, flaunting his throat as he tilted his neck back, then side-to-side. He stretched out his arms in front of him, then his knuckles, before mimicking Batman's pose. The arrogant grin disappeared, having been replaced by a lopsided curve of the lips. Mischievous. Like he was up to something.
"I'm ready."
As soon as the words rolled off Flash's tongue, Batman threw a quick jab at the center of his chest. Flash's mouth parted in surprise, but he was able to cross his arms in time to block it. As Flash stumbled back from the force of the strike, Batman was already setting up his next attack. He wasn't going to give his opponent even a second to catch his breath.
In quick succession, he aimed several more punches at the man's head and torso. He didn't land a single one. Flash, impressively, was dodging each attack with practiced fluidity. The cocky grin returned.
"Get him, Flash!" someone cheered. Several more leaguers whooped and cried out their support for the underdog.
The cheering must have spurred some confidence in Flash, who switched to offense and attempted a few jabs on his own. His offense was horrible. His shoulders told Batman exactly where his fists were going to strike, and he leaned too much with each move, making it easy for Bruce to grab his wrist mid-strike and yank him forward.
In one swift move, he pushed Flash's mask down over his eyes, and promptly slammed his head into the side of the ring.
"Ooooh," the crowd collectively winced. Even Batman felt a moment of uncertainty, as Flash staggered to rebalance. Had that been too much? Flash certainly looked dazed. He wasn't trying to give the idiot brain damage, after all.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
When he found his footing, Flash tugged his disheveled cowl off completely, revealing the unruly red hair underneath. Green eyes blinked away any remaining fogginess, then settled on Batman with firm determination. "Haven't tapped out just yet," he answered.
Wally bent his knees and raised his fists.
Batman huffed out a laugh. Stubborn. Extending his arm, he gestured with two fingers, come here.
Wally obliged. Rushing forward, swapping technique for brute force, he drove his shoulder into Batman's ribs, attempting to shove him against the arena wall. Batman twisted with the incoming force, trying to slip past Wally’s line instead of stopping it. He aimed an elbow backwards at Wally's side, but Wally was fast to pivot, kicking Batman's legs out from the back of the knees.
Batman landed on all fours, and Wally wasted no time going in for the hold from behind. He pounced, pushing Batman's chest to the cold floor. A knee was planted in the center of his back, pinning him there, while Wally held an arm in each hand, fingers firmly locked around the bare skin of Batman's wrists.
Wally leaned down. "Gotcha," he purred.
Batman was several inches taller than Flash and heavier by at least 40 pounds of muscle mass. It wasn't a fair fight from the beginning, but that wasn't the point. The point was to humble Wally; to teach him that he was flirting with danger. Literally.
Thrusting upwards, he easily leveraged his weight to flip their positions, rolling over with enough force to trap Wally between himself and the floor. A yelp escaped the speedster, his face painted with shock and disbelief at the sudden change. Bruce wrapped his legs around Flash's thighs, immobilizing him.
Still, Wally was struggling to break loose. Batman planted one hand beside Wally's head and lowered every inch of himself against the man's body, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, until he could feel each flex of Flash's muscle against his own.
He was stuck. There was no breaking free from this hold.
The writhing beneath him slowed. Then it stopped. Wally panted in exertion, each puff of warm breath ghosting across Batman's jaw. Electricity hummed beneath the speedster's skin; the air was nearly vibrating with it.
Batman's lips curled in a smirk. He dipped his head in even closer, and paused, wanting to savor the moment.
"Gotcha," he finally murmured, his voice low but teasing.
He had never examined Wally's face so close... the mask hid most of his freckles, he noted absently. That was a shame. And Wally's hair was longer than usual-- a few sweat-darkened strands had fallen loose and caught on his eyelashes. Safety hazard.
Batman's gaze drifted down, then back up, meeting Wally's eyes. He realized, suddenly, that his opponent's fight was gone. A heavy, half-lidded gleam had replaced the sharp focus from before.
The redhead's gaze flickered from Batman's eyes to his lips. A soft smile-- mischievous-- tugged at the man's mouth. Then, Wally arched beneath him, using what little wiggle room was available to roll his hips against Batman's.
The contact sent a jolt through Bruce's frame.
"Wally..."
He had meant it as a warning, but the way Flash's name slipped, softly, past his lips, it sounded more like a plea.
Wally smiled wider, and pressed in again.
Idiot.
Batman pushed his forearm down across Wally's neck. "Tap out. Now," He demanded, sharply.
Wally gasped at the sudden pressure, but he obeyed immediately. His palm clumsily slapped the floor, signaling defeat.
"Aw, man, he always wins," Someone complained from the crowd. Other leaguers mumbled their agreement as the training room began to empty.
Batman pushed himself off of Flash and retrieved his gloves and boots. He disappeared without a word.
Hottest. Foreplay. Ever!
Wally could barely contain his excitement as he pulled on his boots, his hands vibrating from the adrenaline. He couldn't believe Bruce had been so bold, to touch him like that, and in front of other heroes? That dirty bat.
Of course, it was genius, because nobody would suspect their sparring match was anything more than that. He watched Batman's cape flutter as the man retreated down the hall. Oh, yes, genius indeed. Bats was probably going to his bedroom, where he would wait for Wally, draped across a silk-sheet bed, slow R&B on queue, candles lit...
His patience grew thin as he fantasized Bruce's hands on his body again. Wally took off to find him, only to stand, puzzled, in an empty hallway.
He knocked on Bruce's door. Waited. No answer.
He checked his own bedroom. Empty.
Wally was speeding through every corner of the Watchtower, starting to wonder whether Bruce had left orbit altogether, when he caught a glimpse of a bat-eared silhouette typing away in the monitor room.
Not even a second later, he stood at Batman's back, fingers splayed across the man's shoulders. His fingers pressed into the armor, massaging the taut muscle underneath.
Batman tensed at the sudden contact, as if expecting a blow. His gaze shot upwards, only to relax when he realized the hands belonged to Flash. Bruce's eyes turned to the monitor again, laser focused, even as he brushed Wally's hands off.
Wally took the rejection in stride, shifting to lean his shoulder against the monitor.
"You're probably sore, Bats. That was a tough workout. Come to my room, I know what will loosen you up," Wally suggested. He reached out to trace slow lines up and down the arm of Batman's chair. Batman didn't react.
"You need to work on your offensive maneuvers," Batman said, plainly.
Wally's fingers slowly creeped up onto Batman's bicep, lightly brushing against the suit. "Oh, yeah? You have some maneuvers to show me?"
"If you attended more training sessions, you might have lasted a few more minutes in the ring."
Wally leaned down next to Bruce's ear. "Trust me, I can last as long as you need me to," he breathed, putting more air into the words than necessary.
The typing stopped abruptly, Bruce's hands frozen above the keyboard. The silence seemed to stretch for hours.
Then, "Go home, Flash. Get some rest."
Wally groaned loudly, crossing his arms. He didn't mind Bruce playing hard-to-get, but this was getting ridiculous. He proceeded to voice this exact thought out loud.
Bruce finally turned to look at him, although it was more of a glare. A bat-glare. Wally's least favorite kind of glare. "I'm busy," he snapped. "I don't have time for your games."
Wally held his gaze for a moment. "Fine," he sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "I'm all fired up and ready to go, so I guess I'll just see who else is down for a roll in the hay."
Batman watched through narrowed eyes as Wally's thumbs sped over the touchscreen. There was a pause, then a ding! of an incoming text. Wally clicked his tongue. "Fire and Ice are on Earth."
His thumbs flew over the touchscreen again. Batman shifted in his seat.
Ding!
"Aw, too bad," Wally whined, "Crimson Fox is out too. She's into some crazy stuff, Bats. Be careful around that one."
"You are being highly unprofessional," Batman scolded.
Wally ignored him and resumed typing.
Ding!
Wally read the new message, grinning. "Booster's on deck and has an hour until his next mission."
Batman physically recoiled, his nose wrinkling. "...Booster Gold," He repeated, voice dripping with disdain.
Flash shrugged, turning to a darkened monitor to fix his hair in the reflection. "We've never hooked up before, but he's a pretty handsy flirt. I think he'd be fun in bed, what do you think?"
Bruce scowled. "You're bluffing."
"No, it's not a bluff. I'm getting get my back blown out in the next 10 minutes. Either you can do it, or Booster can do it. What'll it be?"
A muscle jumped in Bruce's jaw as he considered. He stood, slowly, and stepped in front of Flash, so close that Wally had to tilt his head up to look Bruce in the eyes. Wally's heart hammered in his chest.
Batman then placed his hands, gently, on Flash's waist. Electricity jumped at the touch, sending shivers down his spine. He beamed at the other, wrapping his own arms around Bruce, feeling incredibly triumphant.
Suddenly, the gentle grip on his waist tightened and roughly pulled him in closer. Batman pressed his mouth to Wally's ear. "Delete his number," He growled.
Wally laughed in surprise, already at work exploring Bruce's body, his hands running up and down his back, his chest, his arms. "Whatever you say, handsome."
Before anything else could be said, Wally hoisted Bruce into his arms and carried him into his room so fast, the pair looked only like a red and black blur to anyone who might've noticed.
At the next training session, Batman called Booster Gold up to spar against him. He set a record that day for fastest knock-out in the ring. Several Leaguers would express their shock, later, at the vocal range of Booster's fearful shrieking.
Following that incident, nobody dared volunteer to spar with the Batman. Except, oddly enough, the Flash.