Archive of Our Own

The restaurant had candles on the tables. They were artificial candles, with plastic flames that wavered above tiny batteries, but Wally had still spent several minutes evaluating them after the hostess led you to the booth.

“Too romantic?” he asked.

“You brought me to a restaurant.”

“That was the plan.”

“At night.”

“Most restaurants remain open after sunset.”

“And you made a reservation.”

“I can leave and come back without one.”

“You’re wearing a button-down shirt.”

Wally’s hands immediately moved toward the collar. “Is that bad?”

You caught his wrist before he could undo the top button. “Wally.”

He stopped. For someone capable of moving faster than sound, he had spent the entire evening behaving as though every decision required careful deliberation. He had arrived at your door three minutes early, then admitted that he had spent the previous twenty circling the block because appearing half an hour early would have seemed overeager. He had complimented you, forgotten what he intended to say next, and walked directly into the edge of your doorframe on the way out.

It was endearing. It was also becoming slightly painful to watch.

“This is a date,” you said.

“I know.”

“You asked me on a date.”

“I remember that part.”

“I said yes.”

“One of the greatest moments of my life.”

“Then stop looking for reasons I might not want to be here.”

Wally’s expression softened. His wrist turned inside your grip until his fingers could slide between yours. “I’m not looking for an escape route,” he said. “I’m making sure I don’t ruin this.”

“You survived asking me out.”

“Barely.”

“You asked while we were fighting an enormous telepathic starfish.”

“It seemed like a good time.”

“It had you pinned beneath a bus.”

“I thought I might die.”

“You knew Barry was two blocks away.”

“I thought I might be mildly injured.”

“And that gave you perspective?”

“The bus was very heavy.”

“You can lift a car.”

“Not emotionally.”

You laughed, and some of the tension left his shoulders. His thumb moved over your knuckles beneath the edge of the table.

The two of you had known each other for years. You had fought beside each other, patched each other up, shared meals at impossible hours, and spent enough time flirting that several members of the Justice League had begun placing bets. None of that had prepared either of you for the strange intimacy of sitting across from each other without an emergency waiting nearby.

You had seen Wally in torn uniforms, borrowed clothes, formalwear, and once a pair of green pajama pants covered in cartoon turtles. The sight of him in a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled carefully to his elbows should not have made you this nervous.

It did.

Every familiar part of him felt subtly altered by the knowledge that he had chosen his clothes while thinking about you. He had stood in front of a mirror, considered whether the color suited him, and wondered what you would think when you opened the door.

You had done the same.

“You look good,” you told him.

“I told you you looked good when I picked you up.”

“You told me I looked ‘really—wow—just, yeah.’”

“I was overwhelmed.”

“I gathered that.”

“You look beautiful,” he said, more steadily this time. “You always do. Tonight is just making it difficult to pretend I have any dignity.”

Your ring warmed against your finger, responding to the involuntary spike in your pulse.

Wally glanced at it. “Is it going to report that to Hal?”

“My ring does not report my heart rate to Hal.”

“Has anyone confirmed that?”

“I have access to its communication logs.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

The hostess approached with menus, saving you from having to answer. Wally reluctantly released your hand, and you spent several minutes deciding what to order while he tried to estimate how much food he could consume without alarming the kitchen.

The restaurant had been his choice. It sat halfway between Central City and Keystone, tucked into a quiet neighborhood far from the places your friends usually visited. Wally had insisted the location was not because he wanted to hide the date.

He had simply wanted the first one to belong to the two of you.

You understood. Hal had never been subtle about his interest in your personal life. He did not believe he was intrusive, mostly because he considered asking direct questions an act of emotional maturity. Barry was gentler, but his concern for Wally had the determined persistence of someone who could search an entire city in seconds.

Once they learned about the relationship, there would be questions, warnings, jokes, and possibly an unnecessary discussion about professionalism. You wanted one uninterrupted dinner before all of that began.

Wally lowered his menu. “Can I ask something?”

“Is this a trap?”

“Probably not. How long did you know you wanted me to ask you out?”

You considered pretending not to understand, but Wally knew you too well. “A while.”

“That isn’t a measurement.”

“You flirt with everyone. Captain Cold gave you flowers.”

“They were frozen.”

“You kept them for six months.”

“They lasted for six months.”

Wally stared at you.

You smiled. “I hoped.”

His fingers returned to yours across the table. “That’s almost worse.”

“Why?”

“Because I could’ve asked sooner.”

“You could have.”

“I was trying to be respectful.”

“You were being a coward.”

“I was being a respectful coward.”

“You told Green Arrow you planned to marry me.”

“That was a joke.”

“You asked whether I’d prefer a spring or fall ceremony and requested his mailing address for the invitation.”

“That was when he stopped laughing.”

Wally brought your hand toward his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Next time, tell me when I’m being an idiot.”

“I have been telling you that for years.”

“I thought it was affectionate.”

“It was.”

The front door opened. Cold air swept briefly through the restaurant.

Wally looked toward the entrance, then went completely still. You followed his gaze.

Hal Jordan stood beside the hostess station with Barry Allen. Neither man had noticed you yet. Hal was saying something that required broad gestures and a deeply offended expression. At the same time, Barry removed his coat and listened with the patient resignation of someone who had heard the beginning of the story several times already.

“No,” Wally whispered.

Your ring translated the movement of his lips even though you could hear him perfectly well.

“We can leave,” you said.

“Our food is coming.”

“You haven’t ordered.”

“I’ve emotionally committed to the pasta.”

“You can order pasta somewhere else.”

“Not before they see us.”

Hal turned, and his face brightened immediately. “There you are!”

Wally closed his eyes.

Barry spotted him a second later. “Wally?”

Hal crossed the restaurant before you could construct an escape route through the rear wall. Barry followed at a normal pace, which somehow made the situation worse. Hal reached your table and looked between you and Wally with no apparent recognition of what he had interrupted.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Having dinner,” you said.

“Great. So are we.”

Wally’s grip tightened around his menu. “What a coincidence.”

The hostess approached with two additional menus.

Wally’s eyes widened. “We’re actually—”

“Perfect,” Hal said, taking one. “We can sit together.”

Barry hesitated. His gaze moved over the table, taking in the candle, Wally’s shirt, and the two menus arranged across from each other in a booth that had clearly been set for two.

Hope rose briefly inside you.

Then Barry smiled. “It has been a while since the four of us had dinner.”

Hope died.

Hal slid into the booth beside you. Barry sat beside Wally, trapping both of you against the wall.

Wally stared across the table at you. You pressed your lips together. His expression became one of silent apology.

Hal opened the menu. “Did you two just finish a mission?”

“No,” you said.

“Training?”

“No.”

“League business?”

Wally leaned forward. “We had plans.”

“Obviously,” Hal said. “You’re both here.”

Barry studied the menu. “I think he means they planned to meet.”

Hal nodded. “Team bonding. Good idea.”

You felt Wally’s shoe touch yours beneath the table. It stayed there.

Dinner became something other than the evening you had planned. Hal and Barry were entertaining together, but every time Wally tried to direct the conversation toward you, one of them interrupted with a story or a question about the Flash Museum.

Wally kept his knee against yours beneath the table. When your food arrived, you ordered the meal he had recommended.

Hal noticed. “He made you order that, didn’t he?”

Wally’s foot hooked around your ankle. “She trusts my judgment.”

Hal looked at you. “Why?”

“I have several character flaws.”

The waiter eventually brought your dessert with four spoons because Hal had announced that everyone would share. Wally watched him take the first bite of the part covered in chocolate.

“You okay?” you asked.

“I’m developing a new understanding of rage.”

“There’s plenty left,” Hal said.

“That isn’t the point.”

You slid the plate toward Wally. He took a bite and passed the spoon directly to you. Neither mentor reacted.

Wally wiped a trace of chocolate from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You caught his hand and kissed the pad of it.

Hal glanced over. “You have something on your hand.”

Wally stared at him.

“It’s chocolate,” you explained.

“Right.” Hal returned to arguing with Barry about whether a destroyed aircraft still qualified as a business expense.

Wally lowered his voice. “Are they doing this on purpose?”

“I don’t think they’re capable of coordinating this well.”

“We could tell them.”

“We could.”

He glanced between them. “Do you want to?”

You watched Hal attempt to describe an aircraft as an emotional-support vehicle.

“Not tonight.”

Wally’s smile was immediate. “Good.”

When dinner ended, Hal and Barry remained near the entrance to continue arguing over who would pay. Wally guided you outside with a hand at the small of your back.

The night was cold, the street quiet beneath the glow of old-fashioned lamps. You barely made it beyond the restaurant window before Wally turned toward you.

“I’m sorry,” Wally said when you were outside.

“For what?”

“I promised you a date. Hal ate your dessert, Barry explained municipal bonds for eleven minutes, and I didn’t get to ask you anything.”

“You already know nearly everything about me.”

“Not everything. That’s the point.”

“What did you want to ask?”

Wally considered it. “Did you really say yes because you thought I was about to die?”

“No.”

“Was it the bus?”

“I said yes because I’ve wanted you to ask for a long time.”

His breath caught.

“You could’ve told me.”

“I thought the flirting was sufficiently clear.”

“You flirt with everyone.”

“I only wanted you to ask.”

His hand settled against your waist. “I was working up to it.”

“For three years?”

“I wanted to be certain.”

“Were you?”

“No,” he admitted. “But the starfish was very persuasive.”

You laughed softly.

Wally looked down at your mouth. The joking edge faded from his expression, replaced by something warmer and more uncertain.

“Can I kiss you?”

“We’ve kissed before.”

“Not like this.”

During missions, Wally had kissed your forehead in relief. He had pressed quick, joking kisses to your cheek after races and once kissed the back of your hand while pretending to introduce himself at a diplomatic reception.

This was different.

You curled your fingers into the front of his shirt and pulled him closer.

Wally kissed you slowly. You had expected enthusiasm. You had expected the barely contained energy that followed him into every room and made stillness seem unnatural. Instead, he cupped the side of your face and took his time, his mouth moving carefully against yours as though he wanted to learn the exact shape of the moment.

Your ring emitted a quiet alert.

Wally drew back an inch. “What was that?”

“Elevated heart rate.”

“Yours?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

His smile returned. His thumb brushed your cheek before he kissed you again, a little less carefully now that he knew you wanted him to. The hand at your waist drew you closer until the cold no longer reached the space between your bodies.

You could feel his heart beating beneath your palm. Fast, even for him.

The restaurant door opened behind him.

“Wally,” Barry called. “Do you need a ride?”

Wally’s forehead dropped against yours. You closed your eyes.

“I’m going to run into the Speed Force and never return.”

“You say that as though he couldn’t follow you.”

“He’d need to catch me first.”

Barry waited near the curb beside Hal, both of them looking entirely innocent.

Wally raised his head. “I can get home myself!”

“I know,” Barry replied. “I was being polite.”

“Stop!”

Hal opened the passenger door. “Do you want us to drop her off?”

You lifted your ring hand, and green light surrounded you.

“I can fly.”

“Right,” Hal said. “See you tomorrow.”

Wally watched them climb into Barry’s car. “They looked directly at us.” 

“Apparently that wasn’t enough.” 

He sighed. “Next date, no mentors.”

“Agreed.”

He kissed you once more before either man could return.

The following morning, you met Hal in an aircraft hangar outside Coast City. He was leaning over the open engine compartment of an experimental jet, though the ring glowing on his hand had constructed three separate tools to do the actual work. His jacket lay over the nearest crate, and music played loudly enough that he did not hear you enter.

You waited until he had spent another few seconds pretending to understand the internal mechanics. “You know the ring could fix the entire engine.”

Hal struck his head on the raised panel, and the construct holding a wrench vanished. “I knew you were there.”

“Of course.”

“You’re late.”

“I’m four minutes early.”

“I expected you ten minutes ago.”

“That would make me six minutes late by a completely imaginary schedule.”

Hal straightened and studied you. You resisted the urge to touch your mouth. Wally’s kisses had left no visible evidence, but the memory of them had followed you into the morning and made it considerably harder to arrange your expression into something neutral. Hal’s eyes narrowed. “You look different.”

Your shoulders tensed despite yourself. “Different how?”

“Happy.”

“That is deeply offensive.”

“I didn’t say you’re usually miserable. You’re usually less obvious.”

He turned back toward the engine as though he hadn’t said anything alarming. “What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Was it the restaurant?”

You nearly dropped the equipment case in your hand.

Hal glanced over. “Barry said you liked your food. Wally seemed strange.”

“He is strange.”

“Stranger than usual.”

You opened the equipment case and began checking its contents to avoid looking at him. “Maybe he didn’t appreciate having his evening interrupted.”

“We had dinner.”

“You joined our dinner.”

“You were already there.”

“That is what joining means.”

Hal leaned against the aircraft. “Was it supposed to be private?”

“Yes.”

His expression became thoughtful. At last, you thought.

“Were you discussing League business?”

“No.”

“Lantern business?”

“No.”

“Something personal?”

“Yes.”

Hal nodded slowly. “He wanted advice.”

You stared at him. “You think Wally arranged a private dinner with me because he wanted advice?”

“Barry said he’s been trying to make some decisions.”

“About his retirement account?”

Hal’s eyebrows rose. “How did you know?”

“Barry explained municipal bonds for eleven minutes.”

“He likes talking about financial planning.”

“I noticed.”

Hal handed you the diagnostic scanner. “Wally probably wanted your perspective. You’re close. You balance each other out.”

“We do.”

“He needs someone who can tell him when he’s being stupid.”

“I have extensive experience.”

“And you need someone who can get you out of your own head.”

You paused. Hal’s attention remained on the engine, but his voice had lost its teasing edge. “You think I spend too much time in my head?”

“I think you spend too much time deciding what you should feel before letting yourself feel anything.”

You closed the equipment case. “That was almost insightful.”

“I’m insightful all the time. People find it intimidating.”

“People find you something.”

He grinned.

You moved beside him and handed him the diagnostic scanner.

“Do you think Wally is irresponsible?” you asked. The question left your mouth before you decided to ask it.

Hal glanced at you. “Sometimes.”

“With people?”

His expression sharpened. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“That’s never true.”

You should have changed the subject. Instead, you looked toward the aircraft. “Everyone thinks he’s joking all the time. That doesn’t mean he isn’t serious.”

“No.” Hal studied your face. “It doesn’t.”

“Barry worries about him.”

“Wally’s family.”

“So you understand.”

Hal rested the scanner against the edge of the engine compartment. “Understand what?”

You considered telling him. The first date had already been interrupted. The secret did not matter. You were not hiding anything shameful, and Hal’s reaction could not be worse than the elaborate interrogation you had imagined.

Then his ring produced an alert. Hal looked toward the glowing display. “Sinestro sighting,” he said.

You felt the moment close. “Where?”

“False alarm.” He dismissed the message. “Someone tagged a yellow food truck.”

“Common mistake.”

“People think they’re funny.”

“They are.”

“They’re not.”

He returned to the aircraft as though the conversation had ended. You exhaled slowly.

Perhaps Wally was right. A sign might be necessary.

That afternoon, Wally found Barry in the forensic laboratory and spent six minutes hovering in the doorway before Barry looked up from his microscope.

“Are you waiting for me to ask about dinner?” Barry said.

“Maybe.”

“You seemed happy.”

“I was, until you interrupted. I was on a date.”

“At the restaurant?”

“Yes. With—”

A technician entered carrying a file box. By the time Barry finished answering his questions, Captain Singh needed him downstairs.

“You understood what I said, right?” Wally asked.

“That you had a date.”

“With—”

Barry’s phone began ringing. He answered it and disappeared down the hallway.

Three minutes later, Wally was back at the museum.

Barry: Sorry we interrupted. Hope it went well.

Wally: It did. I’m seeing her again Wednesday.

Barry: That’s great. Who is she?

Wally set the phone facedown on his desk and considered disowning himself. He didn’t know how to make it more obvious.

On Wednesday, you and Wally went to an arcade. It was not a conventional second date, which was exactly why you liked it. The building occupied two floors of an old department store, packed with retro cabinets, racing simulators, pinball machines, and a miniature golf course illuminated by blue and purple lights.

Wally arrived in a red sweater and announced that he had imposed rules on himself. “No superspeed unless someone is in danger,” he said.

“You’re worried I’ll accuse you of cheating?”

“You should always accuse me of cheating. It makes victory more satisfying.”

“You haven’t won anything.”

“I won the first date.”

“Hal and Barry joined us.”

“You still kissed me.”

“Afterward.”

“Victory.”

Wally lost at air hockey within four minutes because he kept watching you instead of the puck.

“You distracted me,” he said after the second defeat.

“I stood here.”

“Menacingly.”

The rest of the arcade became a competition that Wally insisted was not a competition whenever he lost. You defeated him at racing, dancing, and a cooperative zombie game. He won at basketball and celebrated as though scouts were watching.

At the claw machine, he won a stuffed turtle after you commented that it resembled the ones on his pajama pants. “You remember those?” he asked.

“You wore them in the Watchtower.”

“I thought everyone was asleep.”

“Batman was awake.”

“Batman is always awake.”

“He took a picture.”

Wally stopped. “That’s a lie.”

“He said it was evidence of poor judgment.”

“I need to break into the Batcomputer.”

“You’ll have to explain why you’re searching for photographs of yourself in pajamas.”

“I’ll blame you.”

He handed you the turtle.

“Are you trying to win my affection through carnival prizes?” you asked.

“I thought I already had it.”

“You do.”

His smile softened. “Good.”

At the miniature golf course, you used a construct to adjust the angle of the club.

Wally objected immediately. “You made it wider.”

“The club is still within regulation size.”

“It changed shape.”

“To compensate for the slope.”

“That’s cheating.”

“I thought accusations made victory more satisfying.”

“Again, only when I win.”

“You keep changing the rules.”

“I’m adapting.”

“To losing?”

“To adversity.”

He caught you around the waist as you stepped away, pulling you backward against his chest. You laughed and nearly dropped the glowing plastic club.

“Retract the accusation,” he demanded.

“You cheated at skee-ball.”

“I used hand-eye coordination.”

“You threw eight balls before the first one landed.”

“No superspeed.”

“You left afterimages.”

“Natural charisma.”

You turned inside his arms. “You’re a terrible loser.”

“I’m an excellent loser. I’m giving you a memorable experience.”

His arms stayed around your waist.

The miniature golf course continued behind you, but the nearest group remained several holes away. Music from the arcade softened beneath the artificial sound of running water. Blue light caught in Wally’s hair and traced the amused curve of his mouth.

He looked happy. Not the broad, animated happiness he carried into crowded rooms, but something quieter. Something that appeared whenever he forgot to make a performance of it.

You lifted a hand to his face.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“I’m allowed.”

“Good. I was hoping that was part of the relationship package.”

“We haven’t discussed the terms.”

“Unlimited staring. Shared desserts, except when Hal is present. Minimum three kisses per date.”

“Minimum?”

“I’m open to negotiation.”

You kissed him once.

His arms tightened around you.

You kissed him a second time, lingering until his smile disappeared against your mouth. Wally’s hand moved up your back, drawing you closer as the plastic club slipped from your fingers and landed quietly on the carpet.

The third kiss never landed.

A blur swept through the course, sending the hanging decorations into frantic motion. Barry stopped beside the miniature windmill.

“Wally.”

Wally’s eyes remained closed. “No.”

Barry blinked. “No?”

“No to whatever is happening.”

“There’s a robbery three blocks from here.”

“You can handle a robbery.”

“I already did.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I saw your lightning.”

Wally opened his eyes. “I wasn’t using superspeed.”

“I saw it earlier.”

“During skee-ball,” you said.

Barry looked at the club on the ground. “Are you training?”

Wally released you and turned around. “Why would we train at an arcade?”

Barry glanced over the course. “Reflexes. Spatial awareness.”

“We’re playing miniature golf.”

“That can help with precision.”

“We’re on a date.”

Someone shouted from the arcade behind Barry. A moment later, an enormous green boxing glove appeared above the machines and struck a fleeing man through a decorative cardboard display.

Hal flew into view. “Got him.”

Wally looked at you. You looked at Wally.

Hal landed beside Barry with the unconscious robber suspended in a construct behind him. “There were two.”

“I told you I had the second one,” Barry said.

Hal noticed you. “What are you doing here?”

Wally’s jaw tightened. “Dating.”

Hal glanced around. “At an arcade?”

“I invited him,” you explained.

“Oh.” Hal nodded. “Good team-building exercise.”

Wally stared at him. “I said date,” he repeated.

Barry looked at you with dawning concern. “Did the robbery interrupt something?”

You and Wally spoke at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Wally turned toward you. “Why did you say yes?”

“Because it did.”

“I don’t want them to feel bad.”

“They should.”

“We didn’t know,” Barry said.

“You still don’t know,” Wally replied.

Hal placed the unconscious robber inside a green bubble. “We’ll get out of your way.”

Relief appeared on Wally’s face until Hal reached for a spare club.

“You haven’t finished the course. We can finish together.”

Wally made a strangled noise, and you touched his arm before he could answer.

“We were nearly done,” you said. “You can take our place.”

Hal brightened. “Great.”

“We’re leaving,” Wally clarified.

“We’ll send you the scores.”

“I don’t care about the scores.”

“You accused me of cheating eight minutes ago,” you said.

“That was before my evening became cursed.”

Wally returned your club to the rack, took your hand, and led you through the arcade. He moved at ordinary speed despite the tension in his shoulders.

Neither of you spoke until you reached the sidewalk.

“I did say it,” he said.

“You did.”

“They heard the word.”

“It appeared to have no effect.”

Wally looked back at the building. “Do you think Hal was dropped on his head?”

“Several times.”

“What about Barry?”

“Repeated temporal displacement.”

“That explains it.”

Your ring chimed.

Hal: YOU LEFT YOUR TOKENS. WE CAN HOLD THEM FOR NEXT TIME.

“There won’t be a next time,” Wally said.

“You liked the arcade.”

“I love the arcade. I’m never returning to that one.”

You took his hand. “We still have an hour.”

“They’re going to find us.”

“Diner?”

Wally considered it. “Is it far away from them?”

“Probably not.”

“Good enough.”

The two of you ended up at a diner on the outskirts of Keystone, sitting in a corner booth beneath lights that were too bright to be romantic. Wally ordered fries, two burgers, pancakes, a milkshake, and a slice of pie. You ordered coffee and stole his fries.

“This still counts as a date,” he said.

“You lost your minimum-kiss guarantee.”

“I can make it up now.”

He leaned across the table. You pressed two fingers to his forehead and pushed him back into his seat.

“Public decency.”

“We kissed behind a windmill.”

“An intimate windmill.”

You smiled into your coffee.

Wally dipped a fry into his milkshake. “You’re quieter.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

“You told Barry we were dating.”

“I attempted to.”

“And I almost told Hal.”

Wally’s hand stilled halfway to his mouth. “Almost?”

“He thought you wanted financial advice.”

“That’s worse than Barry.”

“How is that worse?”

“Barry asked who I was dating after I told him I was seeing her again.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I did now.”

“I hate this.”

“You’re the one who waited three years.”

“I was afraid of rejection. They have no excuse.”

You traced one finger around the rim of your cup. “Maybe it doesn’t look different from the outside.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Us.”

Wally studied you.

“We’ve always spent time together,” you continued. “We’ve always flirted. You touch everyone when you talk. I’ve fallen asleep against you during League briefings.”

“You had a concussion.”

“Only one of the times.”

His mouth curved. “Perhaps they don’t notice because nothing has changed.”

“That isn’t true.”

“What has?”

Wally didn’t answer immediately.

The diner hummed around you. Plates clattered behind the counter. A child at the next table insisted that syrup qualified as a beverage. Outside, headlights moved across the windows and disappeared into the night.

Wally reached across the table. He took your hand carefully, as though the gesture itself were an answer. “I’m allowed to want more now,” he said.

The simplicity of it tightened something inside your chest. “You were allowed before.”

“I didn’t know whether you wanted me to.”

“I did.”

“I know.” His thumb moved over your knuckles. “But now I can ask. I can take you somewhere because I want to be alone with you. I can tell you that you look beautiful without pretending I’m joking. I can kiss you because we both decided that’s something we get to do.”

“We could have kissed before.”

“I would’ve assumed it was a near-death situation.”

“You find those romantic.”

“The adrenaline helps.”

You smiled, but the vulnerability remained in his expression. 

Wally looked down at your joined hands. “It feels different to me,” he said. “Even when they interrupt.”

The waitress arrived with his food. Wally consumed one burger while she was still placing the pancakes in front of him, then apologized when she stared at the empty plate. “I’m athletic,” Wally attempted to explain.

She left without another word, and you stole some of his fries.

“It feels different to me too,” you said.

Wally smiled.

The third kiss of the evening occurred outside the diner beneath a flickering sign advertising breakfast all day. It tasted faintly of milkshake and coffee and lasted until your ring reminded you that you had an early patrol the next morning.

Wally drew back with obvious reluctance. “Your ring hates me.”

“It is committed to my schedule.”

“It’s jealous.”

“It doesn’t have emotions.”

“That’s what it wants you to think.”

He pressed one final kiss to your forehead.

“Dinner at your place Friday?” he asked.

“You’re cooking.”

“I’m excellent at cooking.”

“You burn food at superspeed.”

“That was one time.”

“You set off alarms in three cities.”

“They were sensitive.”

You kissed his cheek. “Seven o’clock.”

Wally watched green light surround you. “You’re not flying home alone.”

“I fly through space alone.”

“Space has fewer drivers.”

“You run through traffic.”

“I’m faster than traffic.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re dating me.”

The green light lifted you from the sidewalk.

Wally grinned up at you. “Exactly.”

On Thursday, you did not have a date, but that didn’t stop Hal and Barry from interfering.

You were halfway through patrol over Coast City when Hal’s voice entered your comm. “Are you busy?”

“I’m stopping an armed robbery.”

“So moderately.”

“Hal.”

“Finish first.”

The robbers had attempted to escape in a van reinforced with stolen alien metal. You enclosed the vehicle in a construct and held it above the road while the police moved into position beneath it.

“Almost done,” you said.

“Did you know Wally’s seeing someone?”

The construct flickered. The officers below shouted as the van dropped several inches before you caught it again.

“What?”

“Barry mentioned it.”

You lowered the vehicle carefully onto the road before Hal could offer any more destabilizing information. “What exactly did Barry say?”

“That Wally had a date and was seeing her again.”

You waited. Hal waited.

“That’s all?” you asked.

“What else would there be?”

“Did Barry say who?”

“He doesn’t know.”

You closed your eyes. “Interesting.”

“That’s not the word I’d use.”

“What word would you use?”

“Concerning.”

“Why?”

“Wally talks about everything. If he isn’t talking about her, there’s a reason.”

“Perhaps he wants privacy.”

“Wally?”

“People can surprise you.”

Hal became quiet.

You secured the van’s doors with bands of green light and directed the officers toward it.

“What do you think about Wally dating someone?” Hal asked. 

“I think he deserves to be happy.” 

“He is happy.” 

“Happier.”

Hal exhaled. “Do you think he can be serious?”

You looked toward the street below.

The question should not have bothered you. Hal cared about Wally. He had seen him joke through disasters and hide fear beneath movement. He was asking because he wanted to understand, not because he had judged the relationship.

Still, your answer came more sharply than intended. “Yes.”

“I didn’t say he couldn’t.”

“You asked.”

“I asked what you thought.”

“And I answered.”

Hal was silent again. “You’re defensive.”

“I’m flying.”

“That isn’t mutually exclusive.”

Your ring produced another police alert. You accepted it before Hal could continue.

Friday evening, he arrived at your apartment carrying two overstuffed grocery bags and a small bouquet.

“You said you were cooking,” you said.

“I am.”

“That bag is from four different countries.”

“It was on the way.”

“You live in Keystone.”

“Everywhere is on the way.”

He had changed out of his uniform after patrol, though his hair remained damp from a shower taken too quickly. You stood aside to let him enter. He leaned down to kiss you before crossing the threshold, and the simple familiarity of it warmed you more effectively than the glass of wine waiting in the kitchen.

This was your third date in five days. Neither of you mentioned that the first two had ended somewhere other than either of you had planned.

Wally unpacked vegetables, pasta, bread, cheese, and three desserts.

“Are we expecting company?” you asked.

“No. I’m planning for variables.”

“What variables?”

“Appetite, preference, and emotional distress.”

You disabled the buzzer while your ring screened calls. Wally began cooking without superspeed, chopping vegetables while you stirred the sauce. The small kitchen forced you close. You bumped hips whenever he moved between the stove and counter, and he rested his chin on your shoulder whenever he tasted the sauce.

While he was distracted, you stole cheese from the cutting board. “I saw that.”

“You were looking at the stove.”

“I can look at more than one thing.”

You reached for another piece. Wally caught your hand and drew you back against him.

“Am I in trouble?”

“You’re about to be.”

“Promise?”

His breathing changed. Wally turned you carefully, pressing you against the counter.

“You keep looking at me like you’re deciding whether to kiss me,” he murmured.

“I’m deciding whether you’ve earned it.”

“I cooked.”

“Dinner isn’t finished.”

“I bought dessert.”

“You threatened me over cheese.”

“You stole from the chef.”

“You caught me.”

“And now you’re out of chances.”

Wally kissed you instead of apologizing. He lifted you onto the counter and stepped between your knees. The kiss deepened, his hands sliding beneath your shirt as yours threaded into his hair.

“Wally.”

“I like that.”

“My name?”

“The way you say it.”

You touched his face. “This feels strange.”

“Bad strange?”

“No. I’ve wanted this for so long that part of me keeps expecting to wake up.”

The jokes disappeared from his expression. “You wanted this?”

“I told you.”

“You said you wanted me to ask. That could’ve meant you were curious.”

“You think I spent three years hoping you’d ask me out because I was curious?”

“You’re thorough.”

You held his face between your hands. “I wanted you.”

His breath left him.

You kissed him before he could turn the moment into a joke.

Wally responded immediately. His hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, palms warm against your sides. He kissed you deeply enough that the kitchen, the waiting dinner, and every interruption of the week disappeared.

A sharp knock struck the apartment door. 

Wally stopped. Neither of you moved.

The knock came again.

“Maybe they’ll leave,” you whispered.

“Your lights are on.”

“They don’t know that means I’m home.”

“Hal can see my shoes from space.”

The third knock was followed by Barry’s voice. “We brought food.”

Wally slowly lifted his head.

You looked toward the kitchen counter. “We already have food.”

“I know.”

“Did you invite them?”

“No.”

“Did you tell Barry where you were?”

“No.”

Another voice came through the door.

“We know you’re in there,” Hal called. “Her ring is connected to the network.”

You looked at the ring. It pulsed innocently.

“Traitor,” you muttered.

Wally stepped back so you could climb down. His hair had become disordered beneath your hands, and his mouth was red from kissing. You were certain you looked no more composed.

“You could make a construct of us sitting on the couch,” he suggested.

“They know what your heartbeat sounds like.”

“That is deeply invasive.”

“You run beside Barry.”

“Still.”

Hal knocked again. “The food is getting cold.”

Wally looked toward the stove. “So is ours.”

You turned off the burner before the sauce could burn.

Then you opened the door. Hal stood in the hallway holding a pizza. Barry was beside him with two bags of takeout and an apologetic smile.

“We thought we’d surprise you,” Barry said.

“You succeeded,” you replied.

Hal looked over your shoulder. “Something smells good.”

“Wally was cooking.”

Barry smiled. “That explains why you didn’t answer your phone.”

Wally appeared behind you. “Does it?”

“You were busy.”

“Yes.”

“With dinner,” Hal added.

Wally looked at the ceiling.

You stepped aside because leaving them in the hallway would not make them disappear. Hal entered first, followed by Barry, and both men carried the food directly to your kitchen.

Hal stopped when he saw the table.

Two place settings. Two wineglasses. A vase containing the flowers Wally had brought. The overhead light had been turned off, leaving only the softer lamps along the wall.

At last, you thought.

Understanding had to be inevitable.

Hal looked at the flowers.

Then at Wally. “Are these an apology?”

Wally’s expression emptied. “For what?”

Hal shrugged. “You usually bring food when you break something.”

Barry set the bags on the counter. His gaze landed on Wally’s mouth, then moved to yours. A line appeared between his eyebrows.

You waited.

Barry glanced toward the simmering sauce. “Did you taste the wine?”

Wally turned away and pressed both hands over his face.

Hal opened the pizza box. “We brought options.”

“We already have options,” Wally said through his fingers.

“You can save yours for tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to save it for tomorrow.”

“You eat leftovers.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Hal asked.

Wally lowered his hands. “The point is that I am on a date with your mentee.”

Silence filled the apartment.

Hal looked from Wally to you. “You mean this is a date?”

“I have said that at least four times this week.”

Barry looked at you. “Are you and Wally together?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Sunday.”

Hal relaxed. Barry did too.

Wally looked offended. “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?” Barry asked.

“Questions. A lecture. Hal threatening to send me into space.”

“You’re both adults,” Hal said. “Although you started dating five days ago.”

Wally’s expression tightened. “I’m serious about her.”

The humor disappeared from his voice. He looked at you instead of either mentor, and something inside your chest tightened.

Barry’s expression softened. “We know.”

“Then please leave.”

Hal glanced at the food. “We just got here.”

“You interrupted our date.”

“We didn’t know.”

“You know now.”

You touched Wally’s arm before the argument could continue. “It’s fine,” you said.

His gaze searched yours. “Is it?”

You wanted to say yes, but disappointment had settled too heavily inside you. “This wasn’t how I pictured tonight.”

Hal closed the pizza box. Barry picked up the bags.

“We should go,” Barry said.

“You don’t have to.”

“We do.”

Hal paused at the door. “We’re happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Wally said.

“Don’t make me regret that,” Hal added.

“There it is.”

“It was one sentence.”

Barry guided him into the hallway, and the door closed behind them.

Silence returned.

The apartment no longer felt romantic. The pasta had overcooked, the sauce had begun to separate, and the moment in the kitchen had been interrupted and seemed impossible to recover.

Wally stood beside the counter with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You didn’t invite them.”

“I should’ve asked them to leave sooner.”

“You did ask.”

“After I let them sit down.”

“You were trying not to hurt their feelings.”

“I was trying to make everything easy.” He glanced at the closed door. “I keep doing that.”

You leaned back against the counter. Wally moved toward you, then stopped before coming too close.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means I’m nervous.”

“You don’t seem nervous.”

“I’m hilarious under pressure.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. His answering smile was brief.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he said. “Long enough that I convinced myself I’d be fine if it never happened. We’d keep flirting, you’d keep beating me at races because you cheat, and I’d keep pretending that was enough.”

“I don’t cheat.”

“You fly.”

“You run through the air.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m being emotionally vulnerable.”

“You brought up racing.”

“It’s a safe place.”

You reached for his hand.

Wally came closer, his fingers closing around yours.

“When you said yes, I thought I’d finally get to stop worrying,” he continued. “Instead, I found new things to worry about. I don’t want to move too fast. I don’t want to make this feel casual. I don’t want everyone looking at us and deciding they know what this is before we do.”

“I knew the interruptions mattered. I just couldn’t tell whether you were upset because the dates kept going wrong or because you were afraid we were getting this wrong.”

His expression changed. “What?”

“You joke whenever things become difficult. Every time we get close to saying what this is, you turn it into something easier.”

“It matters.”

“I know. I just didn’t know how much.”

“It matters so much that I don’t know what to do with it.”

Wally lifted your hand and pressed it against his chest. His heartbeat raced beneath your palm. It always did. Even at rest, his body carried the restless rhythm of the Speed Force. Tonight, though, there was something unsteady beneath the speed.

“I’m good at the part before,” he said. “The flirting, the jokes, making everything seem like it doesn’t scare me. I don’t know how to do this part.”

“What part?”

“The part where I tell you I’m in love with you and have been for an embarrassing amount of time.”

Your breath stopped. Wally’s eyes widened.

“That wasn’t how I planned to say it.”

“You planned it?”

“I had several versions.”

“How many?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Wally.”

“One involved a beach.”

“You hate sand.”

“I was making a sacrifice.”

You laughed, but your eyes had begun to burn.

His thumb moved over the back of your hand.

“I love you,” he said again, more quietly. “I’m not saying that because we had a bad date or because I think you need to hear it. I’m saying it because it’s true. I wanted our first week to be perfect, and I kept pretending I wasn’t upset every time it wasn’t.”

You moved your free hand to his face. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve helped you throw Hal out.”

“I know that too.”

“I could have put him in a construct.”

“That’s one of the things I love about you.”

“One of them?”

“You want the full list?”

“Eventually.”

Wally’s smile warmed. “You love that word.”

You drew him down until his forehead rested against yours. “I love you too.”

For once, Wally had no immediate answer. His eyes closed. The breath left him slowly, as though he had been holding it for years.

Then his arms went around you. The embrace was tight enough to lift your heels from the floor. You laughed against his shoulder, and Wally buried his face against your neck.

“You couldn’t have said that before the starfish?” he murmured.

“You seemed busy.”

“I was under a bus.”

“You mentioned that.”

“It was heavy.”

“You’re very brave.”

He set you down without releasing you.

“Can we try again tomorrow?” he asked. “A real date. No League members. No emergency calls unless the planet is actively ending.”

“How will we know?”

“Batman will find us.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I’ll plan everything.”

“That is less reassuring.”

Wally kissed your forehead. “Trust me.”

“You bought enough food for fourteen people.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

The following evening, he knocked on your door at seven.

He didn’t vibrate through it or spend twenty minutes circling the block before knocking. He had not crossed several continents for groceries, and the beach remained one of the twenty-six abandoned confessions he had admitted planning.

Wally stood in the hallway holding one flower and a paper bag from the bakery down the street.

“I considered reservations,” he said. “Then I remembered our track record.”

You accepted the flower. “What’s in the bag?”

“Dessert.”

“Planning for emotional distress?”

“Planning for Hal.”

“You think he’s coming?”

“I think he can sense happiness.”

You stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind you. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere important.”

Wally took your hand. He led you down the stairs rather than carrying you, and the two of you walked three blocks to a small park near the river. The city glowed around you, distant traffic humming beyond the trees. Wally had hidden a blanket beneath one of the benches earlier in the evening, along with a container of takeout from your favorite restaurant.

“You planned a picnic,” you said.

“I can return it.”

“No.”

“Too romantic?”

“Exactly romantic enough.”

You sat beside him beneath the open sky. There were no artificial candles, no miniature golf clubs, and no mentors waiting to join you. Wally left his phone at the bottom of the bag. You muted your ring without disabling its emergency functions.

The conversation came easily. Wally asked the questions he had missed during the first dinner, remembered every answer, and became distracted only when your knee touched his.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” he asked.

“Fast. Loud. You stole my lunch.”

“You weren’t eating it.”

“I left for thirty seconds.”

“That’s a long time.”

“You replaced it with six protein bars that tasted like drywall.”

“They were efficient.”

“You spent the next week trying to make me laugh because I refused to speak to you.”

“I succeeded.”

“You fell down a staircase.”

“I committed to physical comedy.”

“You tripped.”

“That was the commitment.”

Wally leaned back on one hand. “I thought you hated me.”

“I did.”

His smile faltered.

“For two days,” you added. “Then you crossed the Atlantic to bring me noodles.”

“You smiled at me.”

“I was hungry.”

“I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.”

You rested your hand over his. “You make me smile often.”

“I know. I keep count.”

“That is deeply strange.”

“I was in love.”

“Was?”

Wally shifted closer. “Am.”

“Better.”

After dessert, you lay back on the blanket and watched the clouds move across the stars.

Wally remained beside you without fidgeting.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you asked.

“No.”

“You’ve been still for nearly two minutes.”

“I’m practicing.”

“For what?”

“You.”

You turned your head. Wally was already looking at you.

“I don’t need you to slow down all the time,” you said.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to become someone else because we’re dating.”

“I know that too.” His fingers found yours between you. “I just don’t want to rush past this.”

Your chest tightened.

“I was worried about that,” you admitted.

“About me rushing?”

“About you becoming bored.”

Wally’s expression sharpened. “With you?”

“With stillness.”

He rolled onto his side. “Those aren’t the same thing.”

“They can be.”

“Not with you.”

You looked toward the stars again. Wally’s fingers moved lightly over yours.

“People think I need constant movement,” he said. “Sometimes I do. My body feels wrong if I stay still too long. My head gets louder. Everything outside me starts moving too slowly.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.”

“It can be.” He paused. “But you don’t feel slow.”

You turned back toward him.

“You never have. You make everything else quiet enough that I can hear myself think.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It isn’t always.”

You nudged his leg with yours. Wally smiled.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Being here with you doesn’t feel like waiting. It feels like arriving.”

Your ring warmed as your pulse changed.

Wally glanced toward it. “Still not reporting your heart rate?”

“No.”

“Good. Mine is embarrassing.”

You shifted closer and kissed him. He rolled farther onto his side, one hand settling at your waist. The kiss deepened slowly, without the interruption both of you had begun to expect. Wally’s thumb moved beneath the edge of your shirt, tracing warm circles against your skin.

Your body responded before your ring could announce it. Wally’s mouth curved against yours.

“You’re smiling,” you murmured.

“I’m happy.”

“You’re ruining the mood.”

“I can be serious.”

“You told me you were hilarious under pressure.”

“I contain multitudes.”

He kissed you again, and the joke disappeared between one breath and the next.

By the time you returned to your apartment, the paper bag was empty, the flower had been tucked carefully behind your ear, and Wally’s restraint had begun to fail.

He kissed you against the closed door. Your hands moved beneath his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. It landed somewhere near the entryway. Wally’s mouth traveled along your jaw as you reached blindly for the lock.

“Tell me if I’m moving too fast,” he said against your skin.

“You’re not.”

“Tell me anyway.”

You pulled him closer. “I will.”

He looked at you long enough to be certain.

Then his mouth returned to yours.

Wally did not rush.

He took you to bed with all the patience he had promised, even when his hands shook, and your name broke apart in his voice.

In the morning, someone knocked on the apartment door. Wally was sprawled partly across you, one arm around your waist and his face pressed into the pillow beside your shoulder. He woke at the second knock.

“No.”

“You don’t know who it is.”

“Yes, I do. Trauma.”

“We brought breakfast,” Barry called through the door.

Wally pulled the blanket over his head. Your ring displayed nine-thirteen, and between the two of you, you remembered promising Hal and Barry breakfast sometime that weekend.

“We did this to ourselves,” Wally said.

Hal knocked again. “We know you’re awake.”

“My ring?” you called.

“Your ring,” Hal agreed.

“I’m trading it for a different one.”

Wally sat up, revealing the marks across his chest and shoulders. He noticed you looking and smiled, winking at you before pulling on sweatpants and going to answer the door without bothering with his shirt. You found it near the foot of the bed and slipped it over your head before following him.

Hal and Barry looked at Wally’s bare chest, then at the shirt you were wearing.

Understanding arrived all at once.

“You slept here,” Barry said.

“Yes.”

His gaze dropped to the marks across Wally’s chest before immediately moving away. “Oh.”

Wally smiled. “There it is.”

Hal set the coffee down with exaggerated precision. “You started dating one week ago.”

“Last Sunday,” you confirmed.

“That is not better.”

“We’re adults,” Wally said.

“I know. I hadn’t considered all the implications.”

“Which implications?”

“Don’t.”

Barry rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We don’t need details.”

“We weren’t offering any.”

Wally took a breakfast sandwich from one of the bags. Hal stared at him. “You can’t stand shirtless in her apartment and eat the food I brought while I’m processing this.”

“I can get a shirt.”

“Not one of hers.”

Wally pointed at the shirt you were wearing. “That one is mine.”

Hal’s expression tightened. “Stop talking.”

Barry sat on the couch. “Are you happy?”

Wally looked at you. “Yes.”

You took Wally’s hand. “Very.”

Some of the tension left both mentors.

“You could have told us sooner,” Hal said.

“We did,” Wally replied. “Repeatedly.”

Barry admitted that he had mistaken the kiss outside the restaurant for an ordinary goodbye. Hal looked even more alarmed when he learned that you had kissed at the arcade too.

“You interrupted,” Wally reminded him.

Barry covered his face.

Wally leaned closer to you. “This is the best morning of my life.”

“You called me agreeing to date you one of the greatest moments of your life.”

“This is second.”

Hal looked between you. “One week.”

“The relationship is new,” Barry said. “They aren’t.”

When Hal asked how long you had been in love with Wally, your answer of three years left Barry staring into his coffee and Hal sinking onto the couch.

“You really didn’t notice anything,” Wally said.

“We were busy,” Hal replied.

His expression sobered. He reminded both of you that being heroes meant frightening each other, disappearing into danger, and coming home injured. You couldn’t make that worse by pretending to be fine when you weren’t.

“We won’t,” you said.

Barry told Wally not to rush because he thought he should already know where the relationship was going. You could keep up with him, but you shouldn’t always have to, and he didn’t need to slow down until he stopped being himself either.

“I know,” Wally said.

“And you don’t have to slow down until you stop being yourself.”

“I know that too.”

You looked between them. “Did you rehearse this?”

“No,” Hal said.

“We’ve made mistakes,” Barry replied.

“Speak for yourself.”

“They’re back to normal,” Wally whispered.

“That was almost useful.”

“It was terrifying.”

Hal and Barry finally stood. Wally invited them back the following week, refusing Hal’s suggestion of tomorrow because he liked you.

Barry guided him toward the door. “Next week is fine.”

At the door, Hal noticed Wally’s jacket, shirt, and shoes scattered around the entryway. “You left all of that here?”

“Yes.”

Hal’s eyes widened. Barry caught his arm and pulled him into the hallway before he could begin another interrogation. “They were alone here all night,” Hal could be heard protesting through the wall.

“Yes, Hal.”

“The ring has soundproofing capabilities.”

“Goodbye.”

Their voices continued through the wall. “Barry, you know what he can do with superspeed.”

“I am not discussing this.”

“He said he wasn’t using it at the arcade.”

“Keep walking.”

Their voices faded. You and Wally looked at each other before dissolving into laughter.

“They’re never going to recover,” he said.

“Hal has endured the destruction of Coast City.”

“This is worse.”

Wally knelt in front of you and rested his hands on your knees. “Do we tell them your ring asked whether I qualified as authorized personnel?”

You covered his mouth. “No details.”

Wally kissed your palm. “Fine.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m happy.”

He pulled you from the chair and guided you toward the bedroom.

“We haven’t finished breakfast.”

“We can reheat it.”

“The coffee will get cold.”

“We can reheat that too.”

“Without superspeed?”

Wally stopped at the bedroom door. “I believe the no-superspeed rule only applies to dates.”

“And what is this?”

He drew you against him, his mouth brushing yours. “Breakfast.”

Somewhere in the hallway, Hal shouted Wally’s name.

Wally closed the bedroom door.