Don't Drink the Kool-Aid

The instant Wally opened his front door to find his uncle staring down at him with desperate, forlorn blue eyes, the college student was a little bit more than tempted to slam the door shut in the man's face. In fact, he definitely would have slammed the door shut in the man's face if it weren't for the simple fact that, for all the redhead's super speed making him more awesome than the general populous, Barry Allen continued to be faster than his former sidekick and managed to slip inside before the door hit the frame with a loud racket that would surely cause a complaint from the downstairs neighbour—not that Wally cared.

Asshat Rick, as he and Artemis often referred to the man, was a self-absorbed, pompous douche wad who had been conniving to get the two of them (and their little dog, too) kicked out since they first moved in. The two of them hadn't even done anything. They were even retired from superheroing (well, at least Wally was, but he was adamantly not thinking about his not-dead girlfriend's adventures twenty thousand leagues under the sea with beautiful, going-after-his-dreams of modelling, possibly bad for real Kaldur who could woo her with his fishy, merman charms to the catchy, upbeat melodies of the wannabe-Caribbean that everyone knows fish people sing. Disney never lied. Besides, Wally knew first hand how charming Kaldur could be. And as open as he and Artemis kept their relationship, Wally still had no desire to be dumped.), so it's not like there were occasional villains crashing their home with weapons set to the only setting they had: destroy.

No, the only people who crashed his home with weapons set to destroy were Impulse and his weird, crazy boyfriend with the cool armour who wasn't actually that bad. Wally was just glad he could bribe his cousin to get the door fixed in no time flat. Chicken Whizees, man. They were like speedsters' Kryptonite. Only good. And deliciously tasty. And they also didn't seem to work on Barry and Jay, unfortunately. If they did, Wally was sure he could avoid the whole confrontation about to happen, which, from the pitiful look that the redhead had only ever seen one other time on the blonde man's face (to Iris, after Barry had caught Wally and Superboy fooling around a couple years back), was most definitely going to be about his crazy little cousin and the boyfriend that Barry Allen had flat out declared he did not approve of.

It was probably the way Blue constantly talked to himself, Wally mused. It was definitely off-putting to hear him randomly exclaim things like, "No, I can't destroy them!" and "why would I even want to eviscerate her?" But then again, it was even more likely just Barry. Barry wasn't even actually related to Wally, and his overprotective streak had still ruined many an attempt by the poor retired sidekick to get with other people during the brief period of time he and Artemis had broken up. Like with the Pied Piper. Or Kaldur, way back when. Or Frances Kane—wait, no, scratch that last one. He was actually kind of glad that Barry had broken up that last one before it had even really started, because Frankie was nothing if not an insane, obsessive stalker whose entire room had been dedicated to him like something of a creepy cult shrine. How about this instead: or the time the Flash had spent five hours brutally interrogating Artemis, and had still come out of that disapproving of their relationship.

That had been one of the only times Wally had ever been grateful for his girlfriend's supervillain dad. Not much frazzled her after growing up with Sportsmaster—although, even she had definitely been a little out of it for the next few days.

"Wally, I need your help," Barry announced. The younger speedster slowly turned from the door to face his uncle. He let out a nervous laugh.

"Uh…you know, Barry, I'd love to, really, but I've got this paper due tomorrow and it'll actually take me time to write because computers, they're just so darn slow, so I'll just, uh, sit here and take a rain check. Okay? How about that. Good. Glad we sorted that out." Besides, he would be so, so dead if Barry somehow realised that he'd been letting Bart and Jaime fraternise at his place for months now.

So dead.

Barry looked completely unperturbed. Wally hated it when Barry looked completely unperturbed.

"Well, that's a shame," the blonde man said, making an exaggerated shrug. "Because I was going to talk to you about it over dinner at our favourite—well, I was torn between Mexican and Thai, I know how much you like both. And then French for dessert. My treat."

"…" Damn him. No one could resist the pull of fresh, authentic food. No one. Especially not when Barry offered to pay. This was such a trap. "Fine. But Mexican. It's closer. And we can settle for churros for dessert."

The easy smile Wally received was by no means comforting—and, really, just a sign of how much he'd just been played. Still, though, the twenty-one year old couldn't find it in himself to feel bad about it just yet.

But he knew he was going to.

Dinner…was delicious.

But then again, dinner was usually delicious, especially given the added benefits of not having to pay for it himself. The food almost made up for the conversation Wally avidly did not want to have but was happening anyway.

"I just don't understand it, Kid. How are they still seeing each other? There's no mountain, they're never together in Central, Bart doesn't stay out late enough without his location being accounted for, and everything at any base gets recorded. And they don't do anything there either—I've watched all the videos! I know! But I know they're still up to stuff. Bart gets that look in his eyes whenever he brings up that other kid." The blonde man turned his nose up as he said 'that other kid'. Wally sighed.

"Uh…you know, Barry…Blue's really not that bad. A little on the odd side, maybe, but generally he seems like a good kid. I'm not seeing your problem here."

"He's crazy, is what he is! This is worse than even that time with you and Aqualad. Although, considering he's a supervillain now, maybe not." Barry looked completely impassioned, and Wally sighed. His uncle was the one who was crazy here.

"He's only a little crazy, Uncle B, and he's a pretty nice kid otherwise. Besides, he and Bart are cute together. You should just let them be."

"Let them—wait. When have you even seen Jaime and Bart together? Wally, what aren't you telling me?" Wally froze. Crap.

"Well, Bart, uh…he brought him around the other night. We shared Chicken Whizees." Barry's eyes narrowed and he side-eyed his nephew with what had to be a discerning glare. It was at the very least highly contemplative. And then the man started ranting, about how he hoped that Wally wasn't doing anything suspicious, and no, Wally knew better and would always look out for his cousin's best interests, he wouldn't let his little cousin date a crazy person, would he, etc.

Wally sat listening in abject horror. Oh, god. Barry was getting closer. He was going to figure it out any picosecond. He was going to realise that his nephew was actively enabling Bart and Jaime's relationship any second now. Wally was mentally hyperventilating.

Deflect, deflect, deflect. "Roy and I are sleeping together!" Wally burst out without thinking, only realising what he said the instant it left its mouth. The words certainly did their job, because it stopped his uncle's tirade in its tracks, and the blonde man stared unblinkingly at Wally for what seemed like forever before his eyes narrowed.

"…You're what?" That voice promised death, and the redhead laughed nervously.

Ooops. But, hey, sometimes Roy just had to take one for the team. And the archer would understand. Eventually. If Barry left him alive for taking advantage of his nephew in his time of grief.

Yeah, Wally was probably never having sex with Roy again.

But at least Bart had Jaime.

End.

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