Title: Straight Shooter

Prompt: College AU with Roy instructing an archery class. When track star Wally tries and fails in the class, Roy offers a hand.

Pairing: Wally/Roy

Notes: So my first stab at Roy/Wally (yes, Roy, be warned Birdflashers. Dick does show up, though); this is basically my love letter to Lyricalentropy. :)

Wally was pretty sure that the bright-yellow Outrunning Cancer marathon t-shirt was his biggest regret. No, the redhead amended: it had to be the tiny red track shorts from junior varsity sophomore year back in Central City High School. Because when he opted to scramble straight up some boulders as a "shortcut" to the university archery field, they pinched.

But really his biggest regret should have been that he'd stumbled out of bed fifteen minutes late at 6:20 am that morning, and these were the only clean clothes he could find. Everything else had been dragged out during the first couple weeks of track training. Now that school had actually started, all of it sat on his desk chair or littered his floor up until a very clear boundary line that his roommate Dick had established between the two halves of their dorm room.

Regardless, as Wally streaked across campus as 6:37 am, it looked like the condiment section of the dining hall had gone out for a sprint. His Chucks (also an unfortunate shade of yellow) were getting soaked in the damp morning grass and - dammit, his socks didn't match. A blue and a yellow stripe wound around the top of one of the calf-high socks - green and red the other.

He really had to get Dick to buy them an alarm clock that worked. Preferably one that read his schedule so that he never had to set it. That is to say, since Dick never slept, he often (usually) performed that function, but the room had been empty that morning. This meant that Dick had actually gone to class (ha!) or had wound up having deep and meaningful conversation with some hot blonde in the girl's hall - and was probably still doing so.

Anyway, when Wally broke through the copse of trees onto the archery field, the other students were already lined up in front of the targets, bows and arrows in hand.

"Uhm," Wally hesitated, searching for a teacher. No one particularly stood out, but one guy, a tall redhead in shades, stood off to the side, calmly watching the other students and looking not-busy. He jogged over.

"Hey," he casually addressed the taller man. "Have you seen the teacher, er, Mr. Queen or something? Around? I'm kind of -"

"You're late," the redhead informed him dryly. He lifted a clipboard from his side that Wally hadn't noticed and ran down a list of names.

"Wallace West?"

"Yeah, I go by Wal-"

"You missed the first class, West," he commented as he flipped through the papers. "Do you have a doctor's note?"

"Uh, no - but, track was ..."

Roy shook his head. "Sorry. No doctor's note, no excused absence."

"But …" Sure, he'd slept through class, but wasn't his fault, really. Coach Lance had worked the track team extra hard, so he was super tired the next morning - and he'd been up all night getting Dutch lessons from Megan, the transfer student down the hall. How often do you get to learn Dutch and -?

"... er Mr. Queen-"

"I'm not Professor Queen. I'm the assistant instructor, Roy Harper. If you don't have your note, you've lost your one unexcused absence. If you miss another class without a fever of 101, then you're going to get an unsatisfactory," he said cooly.

"Uh ..." Wally faltered under the instructor's steady gaze.

"Ok, so go ahead and grab equipment from the storage shed over there and use target #3." He gestured toward a small structure on the other side of the field before returning to the clipboard to take notes.

"Uh, right."

Wally wandered back toward the equiment hut. Wow, not even a sarcastic 'Nice of you to join us'? The guy hadn't seemed even really seemed annoyed, just … down to business. Or more … totally unreadable. Behind those sunglasses. Wally shivered. He hated that.

The shed was maybe 20 x 20: a few lockers, racks with several different styles and sizes of bows, and bins filled with half-a-dozen different kinds of arrows. Strange pieces of archery … clothing hung on the walls. He wasn't even sure where he'd put them if he wore them.

Shit.

Ok, so maybe his biggest regret was that he had ditched the first class.

Sighing, Wally grabbed the nearest bow and seven or so arrows and headed toward the range. Luckily, only one target - hopefully #3 - was open, and he took the empty spot between someone who was obviously a freshman and a blonde chick in a green shirt. Huh, the girl looked at least half-Asian and pretty hot - did she dye her hair?

Wally subtly peeked at the two archers on either side of him, trying to figure out what to do. However, they both had really fancy bows with extra strings and bells and whistles; his looked like it was straight out of a Robin Hood movie. He frowned. Well, this couldn't be that hard. Just pull back and let go, right?

He dropped all but one arrow on the ground, and, mimicking the posture of the girl, notched the arrow to the string and pulled back. The string was surprisingly stiff, and it stung the tips of his fingers and snapped his forearm when he let go.

"Ow," he hissed as quietly as he could.

The arrow embedded itself in the ground maybe four feet away. The blonde raised an eyebrow.

Wally glared at her and tried again. He pointed the bow higher, and so it flew a little farther ... but when string popped it flew into target #4's alley. Great. Red crawled up his cheeks.

"Psst, genius, I think you've got the wrong bow." She smirked as she notched her next arrow.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" Wally growled back. He didn't like her tone.

"Hey, Roy!" she called in the direction of the red-shirted instructor as she drew. "I think Colonel Mustard over here" - release, thwack, bulls-eye- "needs some help!"

"Don't call me that!" Wally hissed again.

Ok, yellow shirt? Top of the regret list again.

Roy calmly walked over and eyed Wally. "How tall are you?"

"Uh, about 5' 9"?"

"Draw the bow, West."

Wally frowned and pulled on the string until his right arm was shaking. Roy hmm'd, and the girl looked like she was going to giggle.

"Your bow's too long," Roy informed him. "And the string's too stiff."

Wally snorted and automatically joked: "That's not what your mom said la- …"

He trailed off at the redhead's flat expression and the blonde's sniggers. Dignity destroyed. His cheeks were almost as red as his hair now.

Roy sighed and took Wally's bow. "Follow me."

He dragged Wally back over to the equipment and handed him a shorter bow. "This should be more your speed. Take some arrows of the correct length, and you can go back to the target."

Wally swallowed.

Roy raised an eyebrow. "I assume since you missed the first class, you at least went over the reader?"

Wally shook his head.

"... the safety guidelines?"

Wally looked at the corner of the ceiling.

"... the syllabus?"

Wally just didn't even bother looking anywhere.

Roy sighed. "I know this is just an extracurricular unit, but it's not easy, not safe, and it's not a game."

Wally pouted, embarrassed. "Look, uh, R- , er, Mr. Harper? I uh, think we got off to a - I mean, just tell me what I have to do to pass the class and I'll do it, ok?"

Roy pulled a beaten copy of the class reader out of a nearby locker.

"Spend the rest of the hour reviewing and reading the manual. I'm letting this one slide, West."

Wally trailed after Roy as he headed back to the range.

"Put that back when you're done!" He called without looking over his shoulder. "And there's a written test next week!"

Wally groaned and slid down the trunk of the nearest tree until he was cradling the handbook in his lap. Embarrassed, he slouched down and hid behind the reader so that he couldn't see the students glance curiously over at him.

Great. The grass was still wet and now so were his shorts.

The hour crawled by, frankly, as the runner tried to process the different types of arrows, stances, how to tune bows ... Wally kept spacing out and staring at the students seemingly effortlessly arching. They weren't perfect or anything, but their forearms weren't bright red with friction burns and at least some of their arrows landed on the targets.

Roy wandered from student to student, gently - almost clinically - adjusting their stances with the tap of a toe on a foot, or a brush on an arm to angle it farther down. Wally thumbed through the handout and recognized a couple of the different drawing forms: Roy showed one boy how to draw low, placing his hand at the level of his chin, but later he worked with the blonde haired girl in green on a higher draw.

It went without saying that the blonde hit all her shots; only one or two even went out of the black bullseye. Roy nodded approvingly and clapped her on the shoulder. Wally wasn't sure, but he thought he even caught a smile from the archer in shades. The girl, however, definitely grinned broadly, shaking off his hand and kind of hitting him teasingly in the arm.

Wally frowned. Suck up.

He waited for Roy to be busy chatting with a small line of students after the class before slinking over to the shed to return the manual. When he got there, the girl in green was rearranging equipment left behind by the students who had had booked it. He quietly slipped behind her, trying to sneak the reader back into the drawer.

"Hey," she said, not taking her eyes off her work. Wally froze.

"Aren't you that hot shot track star?"

Wally grinned to himself. Huh. Maybe this day wasn't as horrible as he thought.

He spun around with his most charming smile. "That I am. My reputation precedes me?"

The girl snorted. "No. That just explains why you have the draw of a fifth grader. Don't they ever make you cross train, twinkle toes?"

Wally's eyes narrowed. "What of it?"

"Nothing," she snickered. "You might want to lift something heavier than a candy bar occasionally, though."

Wally grimaced, and as he looked down, he noticed her t-shirt for the first time. A light green arrow pointed at her face with the slogan: Eyes Up Here, Nerd.

That explains a lot. He snorted. Not that there was anything much to check out there in the first place.

Well, not that he hadn't checked out already. Without noticing the shirt the first time.

But ... he did all the help he could get in the class. Wally slid the drawer shut and swallowed his pride.

"So, what's a guy gotta do around here to pass this class, anyway?"

The blond raised her eyebrows. "Almost nothing, frankly."

"But that instructor's got kind of a bug up his butt -"

"Roy? That's just Roy," she laughed, as she finished tuning one of the bows. "On the inside, he's just a big ol' softie," she drawled.

Wally cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Oh yeah? What do you know about it? Dating or something? Seemed pretty chummy out there."

Her smiled faded. "Pfft. That's not going to happen." Her collapsible compound bow snapped shut with a clack.

"Well, what happened to the real teacher?" Wally grumbled.

The archer narrowed her eyes. "Professor Queen is on sabbatical. He gave Roy the job because he just graduated. Ollie's practically Roy's dad."

Wally snorted.

"... and Roy's the best there is." Her tone was dangerous now.

"Anyway, West," she continued, "Roy's got his shit together. Just get yours together, too, and you'll probably pass the class. Show up to the rest of the classes, pass the written portion, and hit the target ten times - "

As she'd rattled away, Wally's gaze had gradually drifted back to the tall, built redhead patiently demonstrating different stances. The girl casually brushed her hair over her shoulder as she followed his eyes, and then grinned mischievously before turning back and snapping her fingers to bring Wally down to Earth.

"And if you try weawwy, weawwy hard, wittle twack staw -" She made mock puppy dog eyes at him. "- maybe you'll even get his respect."

Her bag fell over her shoulder as she started to head out the door.

"Good luck with that," she chuckled as she walked away.

Wally frowned at her receding form and dropped her arms.

He took off straight for the track.

One foot in front of another. Even, rhythmic breathing; it never broke; it didn't change; two in, one out. One path, no patience, no adjustments, just go and go.

Wally loved it. Constant movement, no holding back, just himself and his feet and the track. He was the best; he could do anything, he could do it right, he could do it right away. His mind let go, the automatic movements were almost meditative.

Mile two. Mile three - at a casual twenty-four minutes - he rounded the inner lane and a stray rock tripped him up; he caught himself but lost his stride. Dammit.

He thought back to the blonde's laughter; Roy's unimpressed look. He was here on a track scholarship and the Wayne Science Scholarship. He didn't need that.

He didn't need … a challenge.

Shit.

Wally was on his second plate of early morning spaghetti when Dick stumbled into the dining hall, shades on and designer hoodie hanging over his shoulders. On his way over to Wally with a bowl of cereal, hard boiled egg, fruit, and an orange juice, the gymnast chatted with at least three different girls, all of them tittering in his ear and clinging to the hem of his shirt.

Wally snickered. And people call him the flirt.

The gymnast and computer science major finally collapsed next to him with an exaggerated sigh, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. Wally laughed.

"Dude, where did you end up last night? You're not drunk, are you?" Wally asked, half joking. Dick drank, but he didn't really do the "drunk" thing.

"Naw, I was over at … some girl's. She went to Gotham Academy's sister school. Knows Babs and Donna."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, we kinda swapped stories."

Wally had grown up in Central City in Kansas, but his uncle worked with Wayne Tech. Sophomore year of high school, he had gotten Wally transferred on a Bruce Wayne Scholarship to the elite private school Gotham Academy. Dick was Wayne's adopted son, and they'd become fast friends. Five years later, they were still best friends, and the WayneSscholarship - as well as Dick and Wally's athletics - carried them through college at Gotham University.

"… some girl?"

Dick almost looked sheepish for a second. "I uh … she was gone when I woke up. Her name was something like Arty? That seems right."

"And you swapped 'stories,' right. Man, I hate to say it, since I owe the guy my free ride, but Brucie's a bad role-model, Dick."

"You don't owe him anything. He didn't influence the board in the scholarship selection, Wally."

Dick changed the subject. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing to the white, spiral-bound reader, still shrink-wrapped, next to a pair of 15 pound weights at Wally's feet.

"Oh, that? That's just for my archery class," Wally said.

"Archery? Why archery?"

"I dunno. I needed to fill my credit hours, or I'd forfeit my scholarship this quarter. It fit my track schedule. It looked easy." Wally shrugged took another bite of his burger. "But I probably won't even pass now - and I almost missed it this morning again because of your little tryst, dude."

Dick's eyes narrowed. "You know, I'm not supposed to be your alarm clock, Wally."

"But you haven't failed me for almost four years," the redhead whined jokingly.

"... and it wasn't a tryst. I don't sleep with anyone at the drop of a hat. We just talked."

Wally snorted. "Oh, I know exactly who you'll sleep with -"

"... oh do you?"

"- and that's anything with a pink pair of lips and a soft pair of -"

Dick elbowed him in the chest. "You should talk. And drop it."

"Ow. Drop what?"

"Drop the class." Dick unwrapped another hard boiled egg. "It's not required, right? If you're not going to pass, I'll hack you permission for a last minute b.s. independent study or something for a couple of units."

"Oh." Wally chewed thoughtfully on his last meatball. "Uh …"

I should probably just do that.

"Nah. It's … it's ok. I'll probably make it. It's only pass/fail." Wally stood up. "Thanks though. I have to catch my Quant Physics class though before I fail that, too."

"Ok," Dick shrugged. "Your funeral."

Wally awkwardly gathered his weights, handbook, and the remnants of the meal and stumbled toward the exit.

"Catch you later, Richie-Rich!" he yelled, sing-song, over his shoulder at his roommate as he dropped his tray by the trash and loped out the door.

The next couple of days before his archery class were uneventful; he poked at the book, and kind of played with the weights. He was supposed to cross train for track anyway - and he did - but it was phenomenally boring, and well, he didn't really need to for whatever reason. His natural talent for speed carried him through half-assed training.

But apparently you can't half-ass archery.

Wally was on time for the next class, dressed - this time - in totally normal cargo shorts and a green polo. He pulled out his bow and some of the 25" arrows and headed back toward the target.

Ok, how did it go again?

Um, square stance for beginners, that's me, I guess - he lined his feet up side by side - and, uh, nock the arrow - check - and raise the arm with the elbow high to pull at chin level-

OW.

The string slipped from his fingers too early and snapped along his forearm again. Artemis laughed beside him.

"Well, five feet's better than three, Ronald McDonald."

"Shut up," Wally mumbled.

As Wally bent over to grab his next arrow, Roy swung by.

"Here," he said. "Let me show you."

Wally handed over this bow, and Roy took his place at the target.

"This is the basic stance." He placed his feet evenly at about shoulder width apart. "Nock your bow, odd feather out, hook both knuckles, draw elbow up and back down, index finger just under your chin. Relax, breathe - extend a little more - aim, release, and relax through the follow through."

The arrow flew across the field and hit dead center on the bullseye. Roy glanced over at Wally.

"I'll do it again, ok?"

He did it three more times, each more perfect than the last; each arrow landing inches from the others. Wally started to flush as Roy let the last one go; he made it look beautiful. The blonde was smiling shyly herself in admiration.

"Mr. Harper!" One of the other students was whining down the line. Roy passed Wally his bow and started to jog backwards to the kid.

"I'll be back to check up on you!" He waved at the blonde. "And good job, Artemis. Keep it up."

"... ok," Wally stared.

He turned toward his target, trying to remember all the points that Roy had made, but his head felt a little fuzzy. He went through the steps he could, and the arrow landed at the foot of the target.

"Oooh, improving," the Artemis drawled. "If you were paying closer attention, maybe you'd have actually hit the target."

"What are you talking about?"

She grinned. "... nothing."

Wally frowned and shot again. Nothing but grass.

Dammit.

Class time ran out before Roy got a chance to come over and check on him.

Well, I can figure it out on my own.

Late that afternoon, the archery field was abandoned when Wally ran his ID card through the equipment hut lock and grabbed his stuff. In front of target #3, he dropped the reader at his feet, holding it open to the section on stances with an arrow pressed across its pages. He squinted as he tried to read the instructions by his shoes.

Even stance - nock - draw - anchor - aim - release-

The arrow landed past the target. One more time: the arrow flew off to the side, but it was a lot closer, and the string didn't hit his forearm as hard.

That's an improvement, anyway.

Four more tries, and Wally's arrow finally grazed the outer rim of the target.

"Yes!" he murmured to himself.

He heard a soft jangling behind him, and Wally spun around, embarrassed. Roy was placing his equipment on the ground next to the nearest tree.

"Not terrible, West."

"Er, uhm, Mr. Harper!" he stammered. Wally felt stupid calling him that - the guy was clearly only a couple of years older than him, but - "I didn't think you'd -"

Roy smirked a little. "I'm almost always out here. Good stress relief." Roy uncrossed his arms. "Your arm keeps getting snapped because you have clearance trouble. And because you're still not wearing an arm guard. Come get one at the hut."

At the equiment locker, Roy gently took Wally's wrist to size him. His raw forearm tingled as Roy brushed his fingers over it, and Wally shivered a little under his touch. The taller man frowned and retreated to his locker, pulling out a little bottle of lotion for him.

"Here, put some of this on," he said, tossing it to Wally.

The runner felt strangely self-conscious as he applied it; he found himself staring at his instructor's chiseled form as the redhead dug through the various bracers and guards for one Wally's size. Roy finally turned back, and everything seemed suddenly unnaturally quiet: Wally was aware of every brush of cloth against cloth as the taller redhead carefully wrapped the bracer around his arm.

"... then just tuck this around here and …"

Wally was barely paying attention because he realized that Roy wasn't wearing his shades. And his eyes were bright blue.

".. make sure this tie is snug -" Roy stopped mid-sentence and tilted his head at Wally, who was staring off into space. "You all there, West?"

Wally shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. I'm here."

"Good." He patted Wally's brace and almost smiled. "Let's go."

Back at the target, Wally self-consciously arranged his feet.

"Ok," Roy corrected. "You have a little trouble with clearance, so make your stance a little more open - step forward - a little more, and a little wider - that's too much -" Roy gently tapped on the inside of Wally's ankle to guide his foot into the right position.

"Good. Now let's see you draw."

Wally swallowed and pulled back -

"- ah, stop right there." Roy pushed up on Wally's drawing elbow. "Not high enough. Your upper arm should be almost vertical at this point."

Wally adjusted and continued.

"- shoulder down -" He brushed against Wally's shoulder. "This is really important because in an open stance, you'll tend to use your arm muscles instead of your back muscles to draw."

Wally was starting to feel unnaturally warm. Roy was incredibly close. He could almost feel his breath against the back of his neck, and if he just leaned back a couple of inches …

"Bring your index finger to here," Roy had moved around Wally's other side and held a finger by his chin until Wally's index finger just touched it. "And extend just a little farther."

"Ok, that looks pretty good." Roy leaned over just a little to look him in the eye. "Now hold this a second, and just try to remember exactly how it feels. Ideally, you'll want to rely on your body memory to get in this exact position every single time."

Wally's arm was shaking now. Was he nervous or tired? His face was flushed, and he kept glancing back and forth between the target and Roy's startling blue eyes.

Roy noticed his trembling bicep and grinned. "Don't hurt yourself, West. Relax and try again."

Wally let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. His white knuckled grip relaxed as he pointed the arrow to the ground and tried again. Up and back in one smooth motion …

"Don't try so hard." Wally could almost feel Roy grinning behind him. "And breathe. But in this stance, the most important thing is to get your scapula in the right positi -"

Roy clinically cupped his hand just under Wally's scapula and - snap - the arrow flew. Roy jumped and chuckled.

"Sorry, didn't mean to make you jump the gun there."

"Yeah, oops," Wally grinned and looked at the ground.

Roy regarded the arrow that was off to the left of target. "Not that you were really aiming when you shot that, but have you checked for your dominant eye?"

"Hmm?"

"Here," Roy leaned over him from behind and held up a finger in front of Wally's eyes. "Look at the tip of my finger. Is it over the target?"

So close so close so close. Wally could smell his aftershave. He nodded numbly.

"Now close your left eye. Is it still over the target?"

"Uh. No. Should it be?"

Roy grinned. "No problem. Do it with your right eye. Still over the target?"

"Yeah …"

Roy snorted. "Well, that will help. You're using the wrong eye. Just spin around, and we'll switch arms …"

Without thinking, Wally spun before Roy had time to back away. He almost faceplanted into Roy's chest and froze, staring up at the taller redhead. Roy sucked in a breath and stared back at him, startled … and kind of blushing?

Wally took in at least three shallow breaths before the older boy finally stumbled away.

"Uh. Yeah." He said. "That will help … a lot."

Wally opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't remember what it was.

Roy cleared his throat and tried to compose himself as he backed up to his equipment. "So … keep that up on the other … side. And … I have a thing. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

Roy spun on his heel and headed out as calmly as he could.

Wally nodded nervously. "Thanks, er, Mr. Harper."

Roy paused and turned back. "You can call me Roy, Wally."

He started to say something, and then looked like he revised. "And don't forget the test, tomorrow, ok? Written!"

He headed off into the distance, and Wally just stared until he disappeared over the hill.