Your name is Artemis Crock.

You are on the verge of being a junior at Gotham Academy, where you are on the archery team. You enjoy all manner of sports and have a soft spot for human anatomy. You are not a shining example of a perfect student, but you try your damn hardest to be as close to it as you can get.

Your older sister ran away from home when you were very young. You run into her now and then on the streets of Gotham, but she runs with a bad crowd and your relationship is fragile at best. You also rarely see your father, whose money laundering schemes caused him to go on the run several years ago.

You don't have many friends, but you treasure the ones you do have.

Today is August 8th, 2011 and you are waiting for your friend Megan at an outdoor cafe on the pier at Happy Harbor, passing the time with Alice in Wonderland in your hand because you're early and there is nothing more important for you to do.

She flips her hair over the shoulder every time she turns a page. It's not conscious—it just is. The wind plays hell with her ponytail and it's just common sense to use the hand that's already in motion for one thing for doing another.

She asks the waiter for another soda with extra ice, wiping a sheen of sweat from her brow and adjusting her light, white shirt that flows over the half-visible dark blue bikini she's wearing. Her legs are covered only by the shortest of khaki shorts and there's bits of sand stuck to the soles of her feet, which she has taken out of her flip-flops to rest on the chair on the other end of the table.

She checks the time every few minutes and briefly wonders if she should call Megan and ask if everything's okay. As she looks around once more to see if her friend isn't approaching her just now, she sees a different freckled redhead jogging in the general direction of her—a boy.

He's wearing swim trunks and not wearing a shirt and there's water dripping down his shoulders from his wet hair onto his otherwise dry chest, as if he'd just dunked his head into a barrel of water.

There's an odd, small black bracelet on his wrist with a blinking red light and a beach ball held awkwardly in the crook of his elbow, right above a cooler box in his hand, and— is that a giant parasol? His shades are hanging half-off his nose and, by the time he reaches the junction between the pier and the beachway a few yards in front of her, he looks so exhausted that it's no surprise when the bottom of the parasol handle gets stuck between wooden panels of the path and he trips over it, landing face down on the sturdy wood, smack dab in the middle of the surprisingly uncrowded—for the middle of the day in summer, at least—pier.

"Aw, man," he mutters, getting up and brushing his upper arm.

"You okay?" she asks, turning slightly to face him, and kicks the ball that's landed near her feet back to him.

"Yeah," he says, shaking out his joints to make sure they all still work properly. He looks around, leaving his supplies on the ground for the moment—she sees a light blue shirt half-stuffed in the back of his pants, hanging out like a tail—, and his eyes search for something.

She's just begun to return her eyes to her book when he speaks again.

"Uh, hi, sorry to bother you, but uh, have you seen three guys running around here somewhere?"

"There's guys everywhere," she says, gesturing in all directions, which are still emptier than you'd expect them to be.

"Oh. Right. Well, one of them's really short and pale, and scrawny and has black hair and a big mouth and the other one's like a brawnier, taller version of him, and the third one practically lives in water and he's black with, like, the blondest hair you'll ever see; you can't miss him."

It seems that only then his eyes land on her own light hair and darkened skin—even more so in the summer months—and a dash of red creeps up his neck to settle in his ears.

For some reason, she has to suppress the urge to chuckle. "I haven't seen anyone like that, no."

He slumps and drags a hand through his hair—still wet and divided into dense strands that blow in the wind—, and scans the surroundings once more. Her eyes linger on the way his subtle, lean muscles ripple when he lifts his arm and her gaze is caught by the reflection of sunlight in the droplets on his chest. Something pulls in her belly as she notices his trunks have slipped fairly low on his hips.

She blinks when he groans and, torn out of... whatever it is that she was doing, does her best to return her attention to the book, crossing her legs out of some strange impulse. The sun shines right onto the letters, though, and she has a hard time comprehending any of them. Which has absolutely nothing to do with the half-naked boy standing but a few feet away from her.

"Uh, look," he says after a minute, giving her the most adorable apologetic grin when she looks up, "I'm really, really sorry to bother you again, but can I please use your phone? You can put it on speaker," he says quickly, "I won't even touch it, and I... have like five bucks, you can have them, I just need to— make a quick call," he finishes. "Unless you see any phone booths around?" he asks hopefully.

"Sure," she says and pulls out the small device, handing it to him instead of putting it on the table, after a brief deliberation. He straightens a little at the gesture and gingerly takes it in his fingers.

She pretends to read her book while he dials—sitting against the corner of the outdoor table before jolting upright when he remembers that it's not his table—and speaks to some unknown party.

"Hey, Rob, where're you?" he says, scratching the back of his neck. "What do you m—? Get your ass down h— What? No! No...I specifically remember you saying the eighth. I know this for a fact because it's the eighth of the eighth and when you said it, I started thinking about spiders and Vriska and—" He turns his head absentmindedly so that she can see his profile and it's outraged. "Dude, are freaking kidding me right now? So, you're seriously telling me that I just spent three hours on a train running late for something that doesn't even—? Ugh, you suck. Yeah, well, I'm not making the trip down here again tomorrow either, so you can take your surfboards and shove them up your—" He pulls the phone away from his ear and scowls at it. "Bye," he mutters to the broken connection.

He stares at the device in his hand for a moment, before whipping his head around and handing it back to her, still cautiously. "Thanks," he mutters.

"No problem. Everything okay?" she asks, putting the phone back into her pocket.

"Oh, yeah, I just... I wasted my entire day on a thing that's not even gonna happen, so..." He groans and takes his face into his hands before exhaling and sitting down on the hot lawn chair automatically. He stares into the distance for a few seconds and then jolts, jumping out of the chair immediately. "Whoa, sorry; I didn't mean to— I'll get out of your hair now."

He begins to hastily gather her things before she straightens, pulling her legs off one of the opposing chairs, and puts her book down, closed. "You can stay," she offers. "My friend is running late and she's not answering the phone," she lies, "so maybe we can kill time together."

"Oh. Uh." His eyes run over her. "Yeah, sure. I'm, er... I'm Wally."

"Artemis."

Your name is Wallace West.

You go to Keystone High School in Central City, where you're not exactly the most popular guy around, but not the worst either. You run track with a passion guiding your legs, even winning sometimes, and it helps with ladies, though only marginally.

You love physics. You love chemistry. You love reading about all the latest discoveries the scientists who work with superheroes have made and you hope to get an internship at Star Labs fairly soon, which you can use as a stepping stone in building your career.

Your most prized possession is an autograph you once weaseled out of the Flash. It was an awesome day.

You don't have many friends, but you treasure the ones you do have.

Except today, August 8th, 2011, because today Robert is being a dick.

"So, uh... Artemis." He purses his lips and taps his fingers on the table, shoulders hunched, acutely aware that he's shirtless while the person sitting across him is, well, absolutely stunning in every way. Come to think of it, it's probably a good thing he didn't really look at her before starting up a conversation. "What, um..." He licks his lip defensively. "How are you enjoying this sunny day?"

"Better than your skin, I think," she says and points to the red hue that's beginning to spread all over.

"Aw, crap; I forgot. Where did I— Oh, there it is." He pulls sunscreen out of a beach bag that lies abandoned between his feet and starts pouring it into his hand before spinning the bottle upright, eyelids squeezing around his eyes and teeth touching just barely in a widely visible mouth. "This is a weird thing to be doing in public, isn't it?" he realizes, palm already full of the creamy substance.

"No weirder than falling on your ass right over there," she points out with a casual smirk.

"Oh, thank you for reminding me that that happened." He chuckles with a shake of his head, smearing the sunscreen onto his skin. "This is not my day, lemme tell you that. I'm normally much cooler than this."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Are you really?"

His mouth tightens, trying to hide a smile. "No. No, I am not."

"If it's any consolation, neither am I."

"Oh, really?" He leans closer on his elbows. "What's the dorkiest thing you've ever done?"

"Hmm, let's see... There was that time I got suspended for punching a kid who took my Tamagotchi."

"That's not so bad," he argues.

"I was fifteen at the time," she continues and he snorts, closing his eyes.

"Okay, points for that. So why'd your friend bail?"

"No idea." She shrugs and actually hopes Megan won't suddenly show up. "But I was promised swimming and I am not receiving any swimming, so..." She sighs, playing with her fingers, then her eyes focus on him. She purses her lips, running her gaze all over him—well, what she can see, anyway. "Say, would you be open to a midday dip in the ocean?"

"Me? Yeah, sure. I was promised swimming as well."

"Okay, Wall-man; let's go."

When they return to the cafe an hour later, finding their stuff behind the counter and almost shivering as they put on their clothes, they laugh.

They laugh about the fish they saw. They laugh about the grumpy old man whom they accidentally splashed while engaging in a war among themselves. They laugh about the weird footprints they left in the sand. They laugh at how short a time ago they met, yet they feel like partners in some strange way.

She takes back her seat at the cafe and, this time, he slips into the chair across her with ease, shaking the water out of his hair and watching as water drips down hers. She doesn't even bother trying to dry it, just lets it soak the wooden panels below her, behind the seat.

Her shirt is becoming increasingly wet and so is his, and both of them quickly heat up again in the sun.

"I'm telling you," he says, "I could recreate The Flash's lightning if I wanted to. I mean, the original Flash. The current Flash's powers are already man-made; he said that in an interview once, I think.."

"And you think you could replicate it?"

"Well, maybe not replicate it, but I have all these ideas... I'm not gonna do it, probably, but do you think it could be a good experiment to show Star Labs?"

"I don't really know anything about Star Labs," she admits and orders one more soda, smiling as he does as well, "but you should probably go for it. No harm in trying, right?"

"Yeah, unless I accidentally end up with the Flash's powers."

"I wouldn't be too worried about that," she says with a chuckle. "After all—"

"Hi, Wally!" a different voice says from the pier.

He turns and immediately frowns, searching for the voices owner. When his eyes land on the black-haired girl, his brow furrows.

"Uh... hi?" he manages.

"Wendy," she prompts. "Remember? From the Halloween party?"

"Uh... right." He nods quickly. "Wendy. Nice to see you again."

"You too. And... Artemis, was it?"

She, who's been intently staring at Wally's face, trying to figure it out while stirring her soda with the straw, jolts upright and tries to keep her eyes from bulging.

"Uh, yes. Hi."

"Megan's been telling my all kinds of stories about you two," the girl says with an easy smile.

"You know Megan?" Artemis asks, exchanging a glance with Wally.

"Well yeah, I—" Wendy frowns, scratching her upper arm. Her eyes shift back and forth between them. "Uh..." She bites her lip. "I'm glad you guys are still together. Well, have a nice day!"

The two of them can do nothing more than stare after her with increasingly confused expressions, leaning out of their seats to better see the retreating figure.

When they finally turn back at each other, a long time passes before anyone speaks.

"Do you know who that was?" he asks, putting his hand to his mouth thoughtfully.

"No idea. You?"

"Absolutely none. What did she mean by 'still together'?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she says, crossing her arms.

"Weird." He bites the inside of his cheek. "Wait, hang on a minute; I actually also have a friend named Megan, but we're only internet buddies. She goes to school here in Happy Harbor, so, uh, maybe..." His brow still doesn't smoothen.

Artemis narrows her eyes as she thinks. "My friend goes here, too. Wait," she says, "could we actually be talking about the same person? Megan? Megan Morse? Cheerleader of the Bumblebees?"

"Girlfriend of Conner Kent?" His mouth widens. "That sounds like my Megan, yes." He chuckles and sips his soda. "Weird."

"Wow, what are the odds," she mutters, shaking her head and sipping again.

"Still doesn't explain why this Wendy person knows us."

"Yeah. But, you know, Megan was actually whom I was supposed to meet today."

"Yeah? Huh. Conner was also supposed to be here; I swear I didn't get the date wrong."

She purses her lips. "You don't think it was some sort of mind-bogglingly awkward attempt at setting us up for a blind date, do you?"

"Uh..." He glances around and leans slowly back in his seat. "This is a date?"

"Isn't it?" She gestures at their setup.

A smile spreads slowly across his face. "Okay. Okay," he mutters to himself. "Although, now I am kind of regretting telling you about my Flash obsession."

"I would've figured it out anyway," she promises.

"That's encouraging to know. Anyway, uh..." He huffs out a breath and considers her stance. "Look, I have to go if I'm gonna make it home before my parents kill me, so, er..." He clicks his tongue and turns away.

She looks at her watch, brow furrowing when she sees the results. "How strict are your parents?"

"Normally pretty lenient," he says, "but I had a bit of a problem recently— No, not like that, nothing like that," he clarifies, "I just kinda... contracted a deadly virus. Barely pulled through. So I'm on a short leash for now. Especially when it comes to the beach," he adds.

"Oh, so you're a badass, huh?"

"I try; I try." He grins. "Plus, it's, like, a two and a half hour train ride to Central City in Express, so I gotta leave extra early."

Her heart falls. "You live in Central?"

He glances up at the disappointment in her tone and it only then dawns on him where they are. "Oh, shit. Where do you?"

"Gotham," she says, resting her face on an elbow. A whiny snort escapes her. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."

"I guess this is goodbye, then," he agrees, defeated. "Unless Megan hooks us up again," he adds with a grim smile. He huffs out a breath and begins to gather his things, wondering how on Earth he's supposed to carry all that junk to the train when he's pretty sure he just met and lost the girl of his dreams. "Oh, wait." He turns around, amused. "Can't have a farewell without a passionate kiss, right?"

It's a joke and they both know it, but she gets up and flings her arms around him anyway. His heart skips a beat a moment before her lips touch his and the whole world stops.

The parasol drops to the floor with a loud clank, followed by the cooler in his hand, and his arms wrap around her waist as his eyes close.

Her fingers fist in the back of his shirt and she pushes herself up on her toes just a little to get a better angle.

When they break apart, he purses his lips, still in the embrace.

"I know we live pretty much on opposing sides of the world for two high school students," he starts," but is there any way we could keep in touch anyway?"

She smiles and releases him with an almost imperceptible wink. "Maybe."

"Okay, I think that's enough," a familiar voice says out of somewhere hidden from view. Megan walks out from behind the cafe's small building and crosses her arms. "This is right about when you told me to zip it and, honestly, after what happened with Wendy, I'm a little afraid you guys will get attacked in broad daylight."

Artemis and Wally only stare at her, his arms still around her.

"Oh, right; Hello, Megan!" She slaps her forehead. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about!" She glances around and her eyes glow green for a moment as she takes her influence off their minds.

Wally's hand flies to his head as he squeezes his eyes and groans just a little. Artemis only blinks and lets out a deep exhale as the memories come flooding back.

"So," M'gann says, hands on hips. "Did I do okay?"

"Better. Great." Wally smiles, the action changing more than his features, and turns back to his girlfriend, kissing her deeply. "Happy anniversary, Artemis."

"Right back at you." She can't exactly contain her grin either and still can't believe she's known this doofus for an entire year. "I guess we did have some normalcy this summer after all, huh?"

"Yep." He bumps his nose against hers. "And it's gonna be even more normal tomorrow. When I have to go back to school. Ughhh. School."

"Night's not over yet," she points out, "and we just bought ourselves a whole two and a half hours via zeta travel. Thanks, M'gann," she says to her best friend. "This was really sweet of you to do at the last minute."

"For you? Anything," the Martian says. "I'm just glad I didn't accidentally cause a catastrophe; we all know how the tr— Uh, nevermind," she finishes in a small voice. "Oh, you should probably take that Inhibitor bracelet off."

"Ah, right." Wally takes the key from her and unlocks the piece of black tech from his wrist. "Forgot I had it on."

"Thanks again, M'gann," Artemis says as she starts whisking her boyfriend away to some secluded corner that may or may not be public property to tear his still half-wet clothes off. "Love you!" she calls back.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, her you say that to?"

She collides her shoulder with his arm lightly. "Shut up and find us the nearest dressing room."

"Done and done."

A/N: In case you didn't know, today is August 8th, aka the anniversary of Wally and Artemis' first meeting. I hadn't originally planned on posting this chapter today because I thought it'd be much further along by now, but it's been a thing in the works for months. Almost ever since I started writing the whole fic. 'Cause first meetings are kind of a theme for these two in my head and, I dunno, I thought it was a fun thing to do for an anniversary, especially since they've already been talking about what the normal life is like. So this happened.

I kinda wanted to work extra hard on it to make it as perfect as I could, but I just couldn't pass this opportunity up, even if it did end up being a bit of a rush job. ('Cause I only started writing, like, six hours ago and a good two or three of them were spent browsing Tumblr and having a giant conversation with a couple of friends.)

Also. What do you guys think about the present tense? 'Cause this way it actually wasn't so hard. I guess my yesterday's problem wasn't actually with the fic, but with the way I was writing it? I dunno. I hope it doesn't make the reading experience worse for anyone. Also, imagine there's an M-rated part following this with the two of them in the dressing room; I ran out of time. :P

Okay, now I really don't know when the next update's gonna be, but I hope it's not too long. ;)