A Flash by Any Other Name
Apr. 15th, 2006 02:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shankieBruce finds his interest in their mission at the charity benefit overshadowed by his interest a particular speedster in a skirt.
Part Ten: Tearing Scars off Hearts
In the back of the the long silver Rolls, Bruce tried to keep his mind at task by thinking up anything else Wally should know before entering the lion's den that was high society functions. The cover story would explain away his unfamiliarity with these things with little more than a few laughs at Wally's expense.
"Remember not to make too much direct eye contact with men. American's may think they have a liberated society, but a woman looking a man in the eye is still taken as aggressive. And whatever you do, don't flirt with any women. You're going to stand out enough as it is."
He looked over at Wally, who was fidgeting and squirming on the leather seat.
"And relax." He put a comforting hand on Wally's arm, which was returned with a brilliant smile.
"I'll try."
"Just keep smiling like that and you'll do fine."
Wally looked down and blushed in a way that Bruce was certain he'd be seeing a lot of before the night was over. He found it endearing, and rubbed his arm gently. Bruce didn't feel compelled to release his touch until Alfred pulled up in front of the Colonial Hotel and opened Wally's door, helping him step out with his ever-gracious manner.
A swarm of paparazzi had already begun to converge on them as Bruce offered his arm, which Wally clutched with both hands. He'd forgotten to warn him about this part. He led them through with the Bruce Wayne charm and was relieved that Wally was facing the cameras with his dazzling smile and not a trace of apprehension.
After they went up to the ballroom on the top floor and checked the shawl with an enthusiastic attendant, Bruce slipped his hand around Wally's waist. It made him feel a peace settle on his mind, and suddenly the carefree playboy routine became easy and natural.
"Bruce!" Maxwell Brannock pulled himself away from a debutante in a blue silk dress and walked up with an extended hand.
"Max, how's Gotham treating you?"
"Great, great. But she can be a harsh mistress, as I'm sure you know." Brannock's eyes travelled up and down Wally as he released the handshake. "And who is this?"
"Maxwell Brannock, meet Angela Hastings. Max has recently moved his company into town."
Brannock took Wally's hand and pressed his lips against his fingers, never taking his eyes off Wally's, which made him blush again and look away.
"Charmed."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Brannock."
"Oh... call me Max."
Once he finally released his hand, Bruce felt Wally press a little closer to him. He stroked his hand over Wally's hip comfortingly.
"Well, must make the rounds. Wonderful to see you again, Bruce. Angela." He departed after a long look at Wally.
Bruce bent down a bit and whispered into his ear.
"You're doing fine."
As Bruce made his own rounds of greetings and small-talk, his hand never left Wally's side. He also took it upon himself to carefully look over all the faces in the crowd, but so far, he didn't recognize any members of the Secret Society, although their alleged targets were here, all surrounded by flocks of people seeking their attention like greedy vultures.
"Would you like some champagne, Angie?"
"Sure."
He withdrew his arm and walked over to the nearest waiter balancing a silver tray of delicate crystal flutes. By the time he turned back, after being accosted by several buxomly women who insisted on calling him 'Brucie', he found a lean man with his hand resting firmly on Wally's ass, asking him about the benefits of 'regular exercise' with a lustful look in his eyes.
Wally looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
Bruce looked at the vulgar display with a flare of possessive jealousy that swooped in from some unexplored recess of his mind. He paused to calm himself and reaffix the lopsided smile on his face before he walked over and handed Wally a glass while pulling him back into his arm in meaningful firmness.
The would-be suitor got the message and backed away. Bruce Wayne might be seen as a fop, but he was also seen as the Prince of Gotham, and the class structure of old European royalty still ran strong in these circles. He didn't expect to see the man even glance in their direction for the rest of the night.
"Thanks for the rescue."
Idle hours passed, and Bruce was beginning to doubt his tip would apply to this particular occasion. He couldn't say he regretted it.
He and Wally took refuge against a wall near a balcony overlooking the city, and Wally shifted the corset around with a few tugs. By now, it must have been growing uncomfortable again, and the oppressive heat of the crowd couldn't be helping.
"I haven't seen any bad guys yet, have you?" Wally whispered.
Bruce shook his head. Certainly, there were bad guys here; corporate sharks and a handful of mob bosses making their social rounds, but those weren't the criminals they could deal with tonight.
"Do you..." Bruce shushed Wally sharply with a finger on his lips, as his ears pricked up to voices drifting in from the balcony. He made out 'takeover', 'tonight', and 'Luthor'.
It was Brannock.
"Play along, and act a little drunk."
He grabbed another pair of champagne glasses from a passing tray, and dragged Wally out on the balcony quickly.
Balancing the glass in one hand, he wrapped the other tightly around Wally's back and began to brush his lips over the soft skin of his throat. He tasted like apples and sweat. Wally had arched his head back over the railing and made little happy noises as he returned the embrace by snaking his hands under Bruce's jacket.
Listening to the hushed conversation on the other side of the balcony became difficult.
"He assures me it'll be handled by next Saturday, then we'll be ready." Brannock's distinctive voice said.
Bruce looked down at Wally's face as he drained the glass of champagne and let it shatter on the ground. Wally's own glass had fallen untouched and his eyes glowed in the dim light, his lips parted slightly with invitation. Bruce leaned down slowly, closing his eyes as he captured them with his own in a kiss that started chastely and became quickly passionate. The armour of the corset under his hands and the way Wally's leg had begun to wrap itself around Bruce's was hopelessly erotic.
"Very well, Mr. Brannock. Until then."
Even as the voices departed and they were left alone, he couldn't bring himself to stop exploring Wally's face with his lips and and the firm back of his thighs with his hand, and he became lost in the pleasure of it. Their breath was hot and rapid as Wally untucked the tuxedo's shirt and began to trace the deep scars on his back with languid fingers, even as he gripped him so hard he didn't think Wally would ever let go, his whole body vibrating against Bruce's skin.
"Oh Bruce..."
He quieted the voice with another deep kiss flavoured with expensive champagne. He only stopped when he began to taste the unmistakable hot saline of tears. Bruce pulled back, gently holding Wally's face in his hands. His lipstick was smudged and he was smiling through tears that were making the eyeliner run.
"Why?" He asked, rubbing them away tenderly.
"So long..." Wally whispered, then recaptured his lips softly.
Bruce knew how he felt; the same hard scab over his heart was tearing itself away, as painful and sharp as it was liberating and... amazing. He took Wally into his arms and just held him, his red hair leaning into his chest and his breath running over his skin where his shirt had been unbuttoned.
Bruce pushed a lock of hair behind Wally's ear and whispered his name into it over and over with gentle kisses.
"I should go and... freshen up." Wally finally said softly, and Bruce relaxed his embrace, gazing deep into those emerald eyes. He merely nodded, and as Wally walked uncertainly away, Bruce rubbed off the lipstick he was sure was smudged on his face. He felt warm inside, like a fire had been lit to ward off the darkness of his soul.
He turned back to the view of the city, gripping his hands on the cold railing thoughtfully. From this height, the cars and people below were like rows of ants weaving their way through the concrete jungle. His city, his Gotham.
His Wally.
He returned to the ballroom in a haze of half-formed thoughts, and smiled as Wally returned to his side and uncertainly laced his fingers with his own. Bruce squeezed his hand reassuringly. Whatever had passed between them wouldn't be ignored, he wouldn't push it away.
Women were hopelessly complex; their presence in his life brought only danger to his mission and burdens he couldn't afford to carry. He'd been taught that hard lesson all too often. But this was Wally; and Wally was as simple as he was a ray of sunshine in his life. Perhaps there was room in Batman's world for him.
Bruce looked down at Wally, and realized he'd become drawn with lines of exhaustion.
"Do you want to go home?"
Wally looked up with a questioning gaze, leaving the matter of what he meant by home or if their mission was done both unsaid. Bruce smiled and cupped his cheek with a hand, laying a gentle kiss on his lips.
"Let's go."
Wally snuggled in his arms on the quiet ride home, and quickly fell into a light sleep. Bruce stroked his face in the darkness, until Alfred pulled up in front of the manor and he had to rouse him with a little shake on his shoulder.
"We're here?"
"Yes."
Bruce led him up through the door and up to his bedroom before he had a chance to think it over. Alfred had already left the makeup remover and a toothbrush with a post-it note on it on Bruce's sink. As he waited for Wally to clean up, he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning heavily on his knees.
Sometimes it surprised him, just how perceptive Alfred was of everything.
When Wally came out, he was stumbling tiredly in his heels, and Bruce quickly got up, removing the wig and sliding the shirt off before undoing the corset and throwing it on the chair. He sat Wally on the bed and undid the laces of the shoes and carefully slid off the stockings.
Still kneeling at his feet, Bruce pressed his lips against the faint scars on Wally's knees.
"I have to go on patrol. I'll be gone for a few hours."
Wally nodded. Bruce knew he was too tired for them to try and work out any of this tonight, so he just gave him another deep kiss before leaving silently.
* * *
Bruce had forgotten the exhilaration of sailing through the air on a de-cel line or the triumphant pleasure of a well-placed punch to a well-deserving crook. It had all become so routine; but not tonight. He felt like he was Batman for the first time all over again, rediscovering his work with vigor.
He mulled over the words he'd overheard. If Brannock was in league with Luthor and they had plans set, he'd have to look into it right away; and his first assessment of the man had been correct.
When the Batsignal lit up the clouds and he sailed up to the roof of the police headquarters, he found himself repressing one of Robin's whoops of excitement.
"Someone's in a good mood tonight." Commissioner Gordon switched off the spotlight. "You're smiling."
"I've been having a good night." He put on a neutral expression as Robin landed on the opposite side of the roof and began to walk over.
"Lady-friend?"
"Jim, I assume you didn't call me here to discuss my love life."
"I'd never presume."
Robin gave him a funny look as he hopped up onto the near edge of the roof and perched expectantly.
"You asked me to keep tabs on the Joker's continental crime-spree through police channels, and I have." He handed over a file that Batman flipped through with a frown. "From the looks of it, he's been sticking exclusively to banks and, aside from the incident in Central City, hasn't been using any of his usual props."
"And Scarecrow?"
"Not a stray bit of straw. He vanished off our radar completely after his last break from Arkham."
"Thank you, Commissioner."
Gordon gave him a smirk over his cup of coffee.
Batman and Robin sailed off the roof in tandem and landed on a wide ledge on the front of City Hall. They crouched side by side, and Batman pulled out a pair of binoculars, scanning the streets below.
"So, what is the deal with you tonight?" Tim asked. Bruce looked at him sharply before returning to his search. "You even said 'thank you' to Commissioner Gordon."
He paused, but Bruce didn't look in any way like he was going to respond.
"I'm not complaining or anything. It's a nice change from grumpy Batman."
Bruce looked at Tim incredulously.
"Grumpy Batman?"
"Well, that's what you've been for like, weeks now."
He shook his head and tucked the binoculars away.
"Ok, fine, don't tell me what's got you actually smiling for once. I'm just the sidekick, don't mind me."
"I have to look into something. Continue your patrol."
Batman stood up and fired the grappling gun up to a high ledge on the other side of the street.
"And Robin?"
"Yeah Batman?"
"You're not just a sidekick."
* * *
Brannock's office was clean; nothing but shipping schedules, order receipts, and timetables that one would expect from a engineering company in the midst of being built. Too clean. No datebook or scrawled notes, and the only memos were laid out in plain sight and totally innocuous. Whatever he was hiding wasn't there.
A trip to his warehouse on the river front told a similar story; not an incriminating shred of evidence anywhere. Batman searched the place until the light of early dawn began to glow through the windows high on the wall.
Bruce showered in the cave, and when he reached the base of the staircase in the manor, stopped and stared up into the dark hall.
"Master Bruce, I trust everything is well."
"You should be asleep, Alfred."
"I could say the same of you, sir."
He turned around and gave Alfred a long look.
"Hesitation never becomes you, Master Bruce."
"No."
He looked back up into the darkness.
"Goodnight, Alfred."
"Goodnight, sir."
He mounted the stairs slowly and walked down the center of the hall, which had taken on the reverence of a shrine. His hand on the handle of his door, Bruce hesitated again.
He should go sleep in the cave, give Wally his apologies, and re-establish a professional rapport. He should go in and explain that it was a mistake, they'd just been caught up in the moment and got carried away.
All these thoughts were lost once he opened the door and saw Wally curled up under his covers. In sleep, Wally had a peaceful, innocent grace about him, and his pale skin glowed against the dark backdrop of the bedding. His ability to so often appear like an unearthly creature was breathtaking.
Bruce shut the door carefully, then quietly closed the curtains. He watched Wally sleep for several long minutes, until he couldn't help but smile and slip in next to him. He pulled in close and placed a hand on Wally's hip, absently running his fingers up and down the soft skin of his side.
Wally stirred, wiggling a little.
"Tickles."
"Sorry."
"No y'aren't."
Wally turned his head upwards, prompting Bruce to lean over and give a soft kiss.
"Goodnight, Wally."
"Mmm."
Bruce let Wally's body curl against his own, and he found his arm being pulled against his chest possessively. He pressed his lips against his shoulder, then watched him until Wally's breath became even and deep. Only then did Bruce close his eyes and join him in sleep.
Part Ten: Tearing Scars off Hearts
In the back of the the long silver Rolls, Bruce tried to keep his mind at task by thinking up anything else Wally should know before entering the lion's den that was high society functions. The cover story would explain away his unfamiliarity with these things with little more than a few laughs at Wally's expense.
"Remember not to make too much direct eye contact with men. American's may think they have a liberated society, but a woman looking a man in the eye is still taken as aggressive. And whatever you do, don't flirt with any women. You're going to stand out enough as it is."
He looked over at Wally, who was fidgeting and squirming on the leather seat.
"And relax." He put a comforting hand on Wally's arm, which was returned with a brilliant smile.
"I'll try."
"Just keep smiling like that and you'll do fine."
Wally looked down and blushed in a way that Bruce was certain he'd be seeing a lot of before the night was over. He found it endearing, and rubbed his arm gently. Bruce didn't feel compelled to release his touch until Alfred pulled up in front of the Colonial Hotel and opened Wally's door, helping him step out with his ever-gracious manner.
A swarm of paparazzi had already begun to converge on them as Bruce offered his arm, which Wally clutched with both hands. He'd forgotten to warn him about this part. He led them through with the Bruce Wayne charm and was relieved that Wally was facing the cameras with his dazzling smile and not a trace of apprehension.
After they went up to the ballroom on the top floor and checked the shawl with an enthusiastic attendant, Bruce slipped his hand around Wally's waist. It made him feel a peace settle on his mind, and suddenly the carefree playboy routine became easy and natural.
"Bruce!" Maxwell Brannock pulled himself away from a debutante in a blue silk dress and walked up with an extended hand.
"Max, how's Gotham treating you?"
"Great, great. But she can be a harsh mistress, as I'm sure you know." Brannock's eyes travelled up and down Wally as he released the handshake. "And who is this?"
"Maxwell Brannock, meet Angela Hastings. Max has recently moved his company into town."
Brannock took Wally's hand and pressed his lips against his fingers, never taking his eyes off Wally's, which made him blush again and look away.
"Charmed."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Brannock."
"Oh... call me Max."
Once he finally released his hand, Bruce felt Wally press a little closer to him. He stroked his hand over Wally's hip comfortingly.
"Well, must make the rounds. Wonderful to see you again, Bruce. Angela." He departed after a long look at Wally.
Bruce bent down a bit and whispered into his ear.
"You're doing fine."
As Bruce made his own rounds of greetings and small-talk, his hand never left Wally's side. He also took it upon himself to carefully look over all the faces in the crowd, but so far, he didn't recognize any members of the Secret Society, although their alleged targets were here, all surrounded by flocks of people seeking their attention like greedy vultures.
"Would you like some champagne, Angie?"
"Sure."
He withdrew his arm and walked over to the nearest waiter balancing a silver tray of delicate crystal flutes. By the time he turned back, after being accosted by several buxomly women who insisted on calling him 'Brucie', he found a lean man with his hand resting firmly on Wally's ass, asking him about the benefits of 'regular exercise' with a lustful look in his eyes.
Wally looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
Bruce looked at the vulgar display with a flare of possessive jealousy that swooped in from some unexplored recess of his mind. He paused to calm himself and reaffix the lopsided smile on his face before he walked over and handed Wally a glass while pulling him back into his arm in meaningful firmness.
The would-be suitor got the message and backed away. Bruce Wayne might be seen as a fop, but he was also seen as the Prince of Gotham, and the class structure of old European royalty still ran strong in these circles. He didn't expect to see the man even glance in their direction for the rest of the night.
"Thanks for the rescue."
Idle hours passed, and Bruce was beginning to doubt his tip would apply to this particular occasion. He couldn't say he regretted it.
He and Wally took refuge against a wall near a balcony overlooking the city, and Wally shifted the corset around with a few tugs. By now, it must have been growing uncomfortable again, and the oppressive heat of the crowd couldn't be helping.
"I haven't seen any bad guys yet, have you?" Wally whispered.
Bruce shook his head. Certainly, there were bad guys here; corporate sharks and a handful of mob bosses making their social rounds, but those weren't the criminals they could deal with tonight.
"Do you..." Bruce shushed Wally sharply with a finger on his lips, as his ears pricked up to voices drifting in from the balcony. He made out 'takeover', 'tonight', and 'Luthor'.
It was Brannock.
"Play along, and act a little drunk."
He grabbed another pair of champagne glasses from a passing tray, and dragged Wally out on the balcony quickly.
Balancing the glass in one hand, he wrapped the other tightly around Wally's back and began to brush his lips over the soft skin of his throat. He tasted like apples and sweat. Wally had arched his head back over the railing and made little happy noises as he returned the embrace by snaking his hands under Bruce's jacket.
Listening to the hushed conversation on the other side of the balcony became difficult.
"He assures me it'll be handled by next Saturday, then we'll be ready." Brannock's distinctive voice said.
Bruce looked down at Wally's face as he drained the glass of champagne and let it shatter on the ground. Wally's own glass had fallen untouched and his eyes glowed in the dim light, his lips parted slightly with invitation. Bruce leaned down slowly, closing his eyes as he captured them with his own in a kiss that started chastely and became quickly passionate. The armour of the corset under his hands and the way Wally's leg had begun to wrap itself around Bruce's was hopelessly erotic.
"Very well, Mr. Brannock. Until then."
Even as the voices departed and they were left alone, he couldn't bring himself to stop exploring Wally's face with his lips and and the firm back of his thighs with his hand, and he became lost in the pleasure of it. Their breath was hot and rapid as Wally untucked the tuxedo's shirt and began to trace the deep scars on his back with languid fingers, even as he gripped him so hard he didn't think Wally would ever let go, his whole body vibrating against Bruce's skin.
"Oh Bruce..."
He quieted the voice with another deep kiss flavoured with expensive champagne. He only stopped when he began to taste the unmistakable hot saline of tears. Bruce pulled back, gently holding Wally's face in his hands. His lipstick was smudged and he was smiling through tears that were making the eyeliner run.
"Why?" He asked, rubbing them away tenderly.
"So long..." Wally whispered, then recaptured his lips softly.
Bruce knew how he felt; the same hard scab over his heart was tearing itself away, as painful and sharp as it was liberating and... amazing. He took Wally into his arms and just held him, his red hair leaning into his chest and his breath running over his skin where his shirt had been unbuttoned.
Bruce pushed a lock of hair behind Wally's ear and whispered his name into it over and over with gentle kisses.
"I should go and... freshen up." Wally finally said softly, and Bruce relaxed his embrace, gazing deep into those emerald eyes. He merely nodded, and as Wally walked uncertainly away, Bruce rubbed off the lipstick he was sure was smudged on his face. He felt warm inside, like a fire had been lit to ward off the darkness of his soul.
He turned back to the view of the city, gripping his hands on the cold railing thoughtfully. From this height, the cars and people below were like rows of ants weaving their way through the concrete jungle. His city, his Gotham.
His Wally.
He returned to the ballroom in a haze of half-formed thoughts, and smiled as Wally returned to his side and uncertainly laced his fingers with his own. Bruce squeezed his hand reassuringly. Whatever had passed between them wouldn't be ignored, he wouldn't push it away.
Women were hopelessly complex; their presence in his life brought only danger to his mission and burdens he couldn't afford to carry. He'd been taught that hard lesson all too often. But this was Wally; and Wally was as simple as he was a ray of sunshine in his life. Perhaps there was room in Batman's world for him.
Bruce looked down at Wally, and realized he'd become drawn with lines of exhaustion.
"Do you want to go home?"
Wally looked up with a questioning gaze, leaving the matter of what he meant by home or if their mission was done both unsaid. Bruce smiled and cupped his cheek with a hand, laying a gentle kiss on his lips.
"Let's go."
Wally snuggled in his arms on the quiet ride home, and quickly fell into a light sleep. Bruce stroked his face in the darkness, until Alfred pulled up in front of the manor and he had to rouse him with a little shake on his shoulder.
"We're here?"
"Yes."
Bruce led him up through the door and up to his bedroom before he had a chance to think it over. Alfred had already left the makeup remover and a toothbrush with a post-it note on it on Bruce's sink. As he waited for Wally to clean up, he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning heavily on his knees.
Sometimes it surprised him, just how perceptive Alfred was of everything.
When Wally came out, he was stumbling tiredly in his heels, and Bruce quickly got up, removing the wig and sliding the shirt off before undoing the corset and throwing it on the chair. He sat Wally on the bed and undid the laces of the shoes and carefully slid off the stockings.
Still kneeling at his feet, Bruce pressed his lips against the faint scars on Wally's knees.
"I have to go on patrol. I'll be gone for a few hours."
Wally nodded. Bruce knew he was too tired for them to try and work out any of this tonight, so he just gave him another deep kiss before leaving silently.
* * *
Bruce had forgotten the exhilaration of sailing through the air on a de-cel line or the triumphant pleasure of a well-placed punch to a well-deserving crook. It had all become so routine; but not tonight. He felt like he was Batman for the first time all over again, rediscovering his work with vigor.
He mulled over the words he'd overheard. If Brannock was in league with Luthor and they had plans set, he'd have to look into it right away; and his first assessment of the man had been correct.
When the Batsignal lit up the clouds and he sailed up to the roof of the police headquarters, he found himself repressing one of Robin's whoops of excitement.
"Someone's in a good mood tonight." Commissioner Gordon switched off the spotlight. "You're smiling."
"I've been having a good night." He put on a neutral expression as Robin landed on the opposite side of the roof and began to walk over.
"Lady-friend?"
"Jim, I assume you didn't call me here to discuss my love life."
"I'd never presume."
Robin gave him a funny look as he hopped up onto the near edge of the roof and perched expectantly.
"You asked me to keep tabs on the Joker's continental crime-spree through police channels, and I have." He handed over a file that Batman flipped through with a frown. "From the looks of it, he's been sticking exclusively to banks and, aside from the incident in Central City, hasn't been using any of his usual props."
"And Scarecrow?"
"Not a stray bit of straw. He vanished off our radar completely after his last break from Arkham."
"Thank you, Commissioner."
Gordon gave him a smirk over his cup of coffee.
Batman and Robin sailed off the roof in tandem and landed on a wide ledge on the front of City Hall. They crouched side by side, and Batman pulled out a pair of binoculars, scanning the streets below.
"So, what is the deal with you tonight?" Tim asked. Bruce looked at him sharply before returning to his search. "You even said 'thank you' to Commissioner Gordon."
He paused, but Bruce didn't look in any way like he was going to respond.
"I'm not complaining or anything. It's a nice change from grumpy Batman."
Bruce looked at Tim incredulously.
"Grumpy Batman?"
"Well, that's what you've been for like, weeks now."
He shook his head and tucked the binoculars away.
"Ok, fine, don't tell me what's got you actually smiling for once. I'm just the sidekick, don't mind me."
"I have to look into something. Continue your patrol."
Batman stood up and fired the grappling gun up to a high ledge on the other side of the street.
"And Robin?"
"Yeah Batman?"
"You're not just a sidekick."
* * *
Brannock's office was clean; nothing but shipping schedules, order receipts, and timetables that one would expect from a engineering company in the midst of being built. Too clean. No datebook or scrawled notes, and the only memos were laid out in plain sight and totally innocuous. Whatever he was hiding wasn't there.
A trip to his warehouse on the river front told a similar story; not an incriminating shred of evidence anywhere. Batman searched the place until the light of early dawn began to glow through the windows high on the wall.
Bruce showered in the cave, and when he reached the base of the staircase in the manor, stopped and stared up into the dark hall.
"Master Bruce, I trust everything is well."
"You should be asleep, Alfred."
"I could say the same of you, sir."
He turned around and gave Alfred a long look.
"Hesitation never becomes you, Master Bruce."
"No."
He looked back up into the darkness.
"Goodnight, Alfred."
"Goodnight, sir."
He mounted the stairs slowly and walked down the center of the hall, which had taken on the reverence of a shrine. His hand on the handle of his door, Bruce hesitated again.
He should go sleep in the cave, give Wally his apologies, and re-establish a professional rapport. He should go in and explain that it was a mistake, they'd just been caught up in the moment and got carried away.
All these thoughts were lost once he opened the door and saw Wally curled up under his covers. In sleep, Wally had a peaceful, innocent grace about him, and his pale skin glowed against the dark backdrop of the bedding. His ability to so often appear like an unearthly creature was breathtaking.
Bruce shut the door carefully, then quietly closed the curtains. He watched Wally sleep for several long minutes, until he couldn't help but smile and slip in next to him. He pulled in close and placed a hand on Wally's hip, absently running his fingers up and down the soft skin of his side.
Wally stirred, wiggling a little.
"Tickles."
"Sorry."
"No y'aren't."
Wally turned his head upwards, prompting Bruce to lean over and give a soft kiss.
"Goodnight, Wally."
"Mmm."
Bruce let Wally's body curl against his own, and he found his arm being pulled against his chest possessively. He pressed his lips against his shoulder, then watched him until Wally's breath became even and deep. Only then did Bruce close his eyes and join him in sleep.