Chapter 4
Notes: I am truly sorry for the delay. I have been busy working on a big personal project with my other half which has strangled all my other bunnies but Jazyrha has been fighting CCs corner. I really do appreciate all the reviews that keep coming in, along with PMs of encouragement. I've not been in the happiest of places this past year and I'm still very much up and down, but I'm re-learning how to motivate myself back to doing what makes me happy. I can't say when Chapter 5 will be here, some is written already. I hope you guys can continue to wait.

xxx

An explosion sent Kyle flying backwards past Wally and through the building behind him, demolishing part of it in the process. Wally winced in sympathy, but he couldn't stop to check on his friend, not with the city still in peril. His feet sped him away, dodging the cracks rupturing in the tarmac as the ground bucked and heaved. The Speedster's green eyes darted left and right, looking for any civilians still trapped in this area. He had already cleared twelve city blocks whilst the others tried to contain the chaos and find a way to halt its progress. Wally still wasn't entirely sure what was causing all the explosions, but right now, that wasn't his concern, not with innocent people in harm's way.

He spied Batman as he crossed one intersection and ignored the urge to streak over to his side to ask him if he had any ideas yet. Wally was still cross with him for treating him like a kid and whilst that was nearly two weeks ago, Batman still hadn't apologised. Not that he ever did, but Wally thought he damn well deserved it this time and he wasn't relenting in his cold shoulder treatment of the other hero until he got it. It had been harder than he'd thought it would be and number of times he'd come close to opening his mouth and talking…

"Stupid Bats," Wally muttered half-heartedly just before he spotted an entrance to the subway. He knew it would be doubly dangerous below street level, but as far as he was aware, no one else had been down there to check for civilians. There was little point in asking over the comms because by the time he got an answer he could have already checked out the station.

It was dark once he was clear of the stairs, the lights having long since been knocked out. Dirt rained down on his head as another explosion rocked the city nearby. They were getting closer and Wally distinctly did not want to be here when they did, but it was far too dark to move at speed down here. He'd just run into something and knock himself out.

"Hello? Anyone down here?" Wally called. "Gimme a yell or something if you can hear me!" He inched deeper into the darkness, listening, and feeling like someone in a horror movie about to get eaten. Wally could hear the rumbling as things shifted underground, as bits fell from the ceiling and hit the floor and the red head knew he could miss a weak voice calling out to him in all of that. The Speedster pushed further into the darkness, momentarily wishing for a light, just like Batman would pull from his utility belt right about now, before he pushed it away again.

He stumbled, arms cartwheeling as his boots found the edge of the platform before he caught his balance and let himself drop down onto the tracks. Another blast brought bits of concrete raining down on his head and Wally sped sideways, briefly trusting there was nothing to trip him up and avoided the worst of the debris. Even he could see this was a little bit stupid now, but he knew he couldn't live with himself if he missed even a single person.

"C'mon, anyone?" Wally shouted again before coughing as dust filled his mouth. He shut his mouth and tried to breathe through his nose instead. That's when a faint whiff of rotten eggs hit him. The red head frozen and sniffed the air again. It was barely there, but enough for him to recognise it. "Got you, you son of a bitch," he muttered, trying to work out which way it was coming from. He ended up having to travel a fair distance down the tunnel in either direction before he smelt the tell-tale sign once more. Wally was aware that if he could smell the rotten eggs more distinctly, then he was getting closer to the source, but there was also a good chance that he was walking into a really dangerous situation.

Most people associated the smell of rotten eggs with a gas leak, due to the added butyl mercaptan, but Wally wasn't a science tech head for nothing. Some everyday household chemicals could be used to scrub the gas clean, hiding it effectively until it was too late. The gas could easily be used to rig up explosions like this, with no definitive boundaries. One thing there had to be was a source, because this was deliberate; the evil, maniacal message broadcast over a hacked TV signal gave that one away, so if Wally could just find the source and shut it down, then everyone would be safer. Normally he'd use his nose to find his next meal but right now, it was going to find him a bad guy to pummel.

The tunnel was still dark but Wally could now see his feet. The red head looked up to see an emergency light overhead, mostly obscured by grime, highlighting a battered steel door set into the tunnel's side. The lock was broken, half hanging off the door and Wally was pulling it open in the next instant. The scent here was the strongest it had been so far, but it was still faint. There were other signs, though, that something was hanging in the air as the Speedster felt his lungs tighten. He stepped up into the room from the track and his boot kicked a gas cylinder, making it clink as it touched its neighbour. The whole room was packed with them and every single one of them was opened to the maximum extent. All over the place were vents and pipes, drawing the gas away from the room. He had to find out a way of getting rid of this build up.

A gas leak explosion was often only enough to significantly damage a building but leave it standing. Now the gas had collected in high enough quantities to cause a series of deadly explosions, disintegrating one or more buildings in the process. Wally knew the gas usually dissipated readily enough outdoors though, hence why these containers were all jammed in one place, underground. He looked upwards and ran the risk in his head. As long as he didn't cut through any electricity cables and create a spark, then he should be fine.

There wasn't enough room in here to run in any sort of circle, so Wally spun himself on the spot, building up his momentum, watching the room blur, keeping an eye on his speed until he knew he was travelling fast enough to act as a drill without blowing the wall up. He was also making a vortex with the air and gas trapped in the room with him, making the cylinders sway. The Flash pushed himself sideways, still spinning, and the concrete wall next to him disintegrated into dust. Once he was in far enough Wally aimed upwards, going for street level as fast as he could, a column of dust, gas and air travelling behind him. The protective bubble of Speed Force that always surrounded him when he got to dangerous speeds stop him from getting cut by the concrete and metal he encountered. The heat he produced melted the metal and disintegrated the rock.

The moment Wally breached the surface, breaking through the tarmac, he could feel a shift around him as the pressure abruptly disappeared, the gas spilling out almost tangibly into the free air. Concrete dust and particles rained down in ponderous motion around as Wally slowed his spinning. He had a moment to think he had succeed in his plan when a spark flashed at his feet and the speedster directed his momentum from a blurred spin to a single streak of red and yellow. Wally felt the heat of the gas igniting before he heard the rush and boom of the explosion, followed by the concussive blast wave. It beat at Wally's heels, threatening to overturn him but Wally's impetus just kept him ahead of the damage. The gas and dust erupted upwards behind him, billowing skywards.

He turned a corner and then another, circling the block until he was back on the other side of the explosion from where he had emerged, coming to a halt to survey the settling dust and debris. The hole he had made was now about twice the size with buckled pipes and cables jutting skywards but the explosion itself had done little else up except erupt upwards, burning itself out quickly. Wally nodded to himself, pleased at the end results before he glanced skywards to see Superman and Green Lantern dropping down towards him.

"I saw that ten blocks away, biggest one of the day," Kyle said once he was within hearing range.

Wally grinned in reply, pleased.

"I found the source of the gas."

Clark narrowed his eyes, x-ray vision kicking in to check below the ground level.

"There's nothing left down there but a ruined room."

That made Wally smile broadly, especially when Batman appeared at his side. The speedster couldn't even be cross that he'd pulled his 'popped up from nowhere' trick. Batman, for his part, surveyed the still smoking hole, casting his always critical eye over the remains of a few twisted gas canisters. Wally vibrated in place imperceptibly as he waited for some sort of response, half expecting Batman to find some small detail flawed; to castigate him for endangering more of the city than he should have. Batman didn't react, instead turning back to the group.

"The emergency teams are getting the fires under control in the most damaged parts of the city. I would suggest that we do a final sweep to see if our help is needed."

Clark nodded and agreed, rising into the air. Kyle gave Wally a grin, raising a fist which Wally knocked with his own, before the Green Lantern flew away. Wally's eyes dropped to Batman who was standing just in his line of vision and caught the slight inclination of his head and the hovering upturn of one side of his mouth before the Dark Knight turned away. The Speedster smiled happily and as he moved to head away gave a tiny little 'yes!' fist pump in front of his chest where he was sure Batman couldn't see it.

xxx

Bruce shifted, irritated by the minor, but inconvenient wound he had sustained whilst out with the League tonight. He hadn't said anything about it; it was hidden by his cape. It could wait until he got back to the Manor and Alfred could see to it. Now if only he could sit in his seat without having to lean back in his chair, he would be able to ignore it.

"Bats, did you pick up ants when we were on Earth or something?"

Bruce stilled instantly as all eyes landed on him and he shot Wally an irritated look. The red head grinned. "It's either that or you packed a Batarang in the wrong place."

Kyle snorted and then covered his mouth with his hand to hide the smile. Wally's own grew as the Dark Knight continued to level a look of disapproval at him. He was in too good a mood to let Bat-glares spoil it. They'd saved people from a bunch of rampaging metas, Bruce and he had made up. Life was damn fine right now. In fact it was so good Wally was willing to risk annoying Batman more. He flashed out of his seat, blurring around the Leaguer's table, whipping up the edge of capes as he past, until he was at the dark clad hero's side. Red gloved hands skimmed over Bruce's arms, shoulders, chest, back, so lightly and so fast that the older man could barely feel them.

"Nope, no ants," Wally commented before frowning. "Though I don't remember your cape coming with ventilation holes." The red head tugged on his cape, pulling it free a little more from under Bruce so he could see the rips easier. "You didn't say you got this close."

"Flash. Leave it alone," Batman commanded, not moving. If they'd been alone, he would have pushed Wally away, dared to react a little more. Maybe it would have been easier to ignore the way his senses were on high alert, straining for the next touch. Maybe he could have put that down to being alert for an attack, but Bruce had never been able to think of Wally like that, and especially since they had grown closer.

Wally shook his head, "No." His hands wrapped around one of Batman's biceps and tugged. "Stand up."

"Flash."

The Speedster scowled at him when he didn't move, put one hand on the back of Bruce's chair and began vibrating it, hard. Bruce had to stand up so his teeth didn't start jumping in his skull and he turned to confront Wally, but the other man was already behind him, one hand bunching his cape up, pulling it to one side and away from his back. One finger gently touched the blood staining the black Kevlar that had trickled from the wound set between his shoulder blades.

"You never said you were hurt!" Wally exclaimed, dragging Bruce around to face him by that handful of cape.

"It is not serious. It stopped bleeding quickly," the taller man yanked his cape free, eyes hard as he stared at the younger man.

"That's not an excuse to ignore it," Wally put his hands on his hips in exasperation and Bruce watched his face change expression. He knew that look. The Flash had an idea. Everyone else around the table was watching the exchange with amused expressions, almost like they were watching a TV show. Bruce took a step back from Wally, intending to leave but that was as far as he got before the man before him turned into a streak of red and gold after impressions.

Abruptly his world tilted and then he was staring at the floor and a pair of blurring golden boots and red legs. Bruce felt simultaneously embarrassed at being up ended in front of so many people, slung over Wally's shoulder, cape over his head and never even offering up a token resistance, and angry that Wally would dare. They were already gone from the main room, it was too late to do anything like that now. He could still take Wally down, stop this madness, but what was the point now?

Bruce braced his hands on Wally's back to push himself up slightly, lessening the pressure of his belt digging into belly and tried to ignore the play of muscles under his hands. He also tried to keep his eyes off the red ass flexing right in his eye line. Wally had nothing to be ashamed of when it came to his body, especially the lower half, toned to perfection by his running, but Bruce shouldn't be staring at it, even if there was little else to look at stuck like this. The older man shut his eyes instead, concentrating on what he was going to do when Wally finally got to the Med Bay, which is the only place he was likely to be heading. Unfortunately that just made him more aware of the body under his, the way Wally's muscles moved in his shoulder, his back. Wally seemed to burn hotter than any ordinary person and the hand clamped down on the back of Bruce's thigh was like a brand. They couldn't get to the Med Lab quick enough.

There was a hiss of automatic doors opening and then Bruce was being set down, backside first, onto a medical bed, which, true to form, he instantly tried to climb back off. Wally whacked a hand onto the centre of his chest and pulled out his most disapproving glare from his arsenal. It was nothing like the Bat-glares, so it wasn't going to scare Batman, but it was so rarely seen Bruce had to know he was serious.

"You are going to sit there and I am going to patch you up," Wally instructed firmly.

"No, you're not Flash. It can wait until I get back to Earth," Bruce pushed to get up again, but in all honesty didn't try too hard against that resisting hand.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I am. Don't try to run from me, I'm faster," Wally proved that point by flashing away from him, collecting a heap of medical supplies to dump on the bed next to Bruce and then returning to his self appointed, hand on Bruce's chest, position.

"As if I hadn't noticed," Bruce returned in a deadpan voice before he changed it to one of mild curiosity. "Why are you so suddenly so interested in patching me up? I've been injured before and you've never shown this level of concern."

Wally fidgeted, dropping his hand when it became clear Bruce wasn't going to make another getaway attempt. He picked up a pair of surgical scissors and fiddled with them, making the joint in their centre squeak as he speed snipped the air with them. The older man considered taking them off him. "Well maybe I should have then. What does it matter anyway? I'm doing it now, so stop protesting so much."

Bruce considered the implications of having Wally help him. Those little scissors he was holding wouldn't cut through the Kevlar reinforced suit, which meant he would have to take it off, but there was no way he was revealing his identity, so the cowl would be staying right where it was. That made taking the rest of the upper suit off much harder, especially with the niggling wound where it was. He made a noise of irritation and started stripping the gloves off his hands.

"Wow! Oh, ok I thought I'd have to do a lot more begging to get you to agree to this," Wally stared, blinking at him. Bruce ignored him, reaching up to unfasten the hidden clasps holding the cape to his shoulders, hiding the wince as it pulled at his wound. The cape never hit the bed as the Speedster snagged it and held it up to examine it. "This thing is huge."

Bruce paid no heed to that either, concentrating on pulling the stiff, bulky upper section of his armour over his head without dislodging the cowl. He felt it open the wound on his back again and hissed a little when the suit caught on the edges of it. Wally's hands were abruptly there, holding it just clear of his back and helping guide it clear of his back and head. The young man never once attempted to touch the cowl and Bruce felt a surge of gratefulness that Wally wasn't giving into the urge that had to be there to see underneath his mask.

"Jesus Bats…" Red gloved fingers traced the multitude of scars running over his back. "I should have started paying attention sooner."

Bruce froze in place. He hated the scars as the reminders of the times he failed, where he wasn't good enough and the curiosity any of his lovers meant he had to lie to them. They had never been a thing with any goodness attached, until now. No one had ever touched them so gently, so intently. Wally probably wasn't even aware of how hyper sensitive his skin felt right now or how those words felt like a balm to his battered heart that carried more scars than his body.

Abruptly he cleared his throat and Wally twitched behind him,

"Yeah, um, right patching you up."

Wally wasn't someone who was generally around to help patch any wounds up. Granted he got his own frequently, but if they were serious enough to need bandaging, they often healed quick enough to not need the stitches by the time they got anywhere to do anything about them. Bruce wasn't entirely sure how well Wally knew how to deal with open, bloody wounds, but the red head never once faltered or asked for help. His movements were efficient, smooth and precise. They were also down at speed, so fast that Bruce's body barely had time to register the press on the damaged flesh so the pain was basically non-existent. The older man only realised, after the Speedster was done and back in front of him and talking again, that the silence had been the single real indicator that Wally was really concentrating. It was the one time Wally stopped his mouth, though whether he knew it or not was a different matter.

"There, all done. How does that feel now? I can give you a local if it's still bothering you, but I didn't dare cause I'm pretty sure you'd kick my backside off the WatchTower for even thinking to do something like that."

Bruce rolled his shoulders, testing the pull of skin and the taped on gauze. It gave a little twinge but didn't start bleeding again, so he nodded, eyes going to the armour again. It wasn't cold in the room, but the hairs on his arms were beginning to stand to attention under the scrutiny of the red head, who was clearly waiting for an actual answer. Bruce ignored that for the sake of having his protection on again. Somehow, not being partially naked, made him feel safer in Wally's company. Wally's fidgeting had gotten very noticeable by the time he was dressed again and he was chewing on his bottom lip, almost like he wanted to say something, but was holding back. The dark haired man could read him well enough to know he wanted some verbal recognition for his help, to reassure him that Batman appreciated what he'd done and wasn't going to batarang his ass for kidnapping him like that.

Bruce was at the door, hand on the frame before he found the words,

"At the risk of encouraging this kind of uncalled for behaviour… thank you." He didn't wait for Wally's reaction, he didn't turn back to see his expression, but kept walking, with no plans except to go home and put this strange churning feeling in his gut to one side. Because of that he missed the face splitting smile that bloomed on Wally's face and the happily little vibrations that ran through his body. Because Bruce didn't stay he didn't understand that Wally felt just as happy that Batman appreciated him as he had done when Bruce had told him they were friends again.

xxx

Wally half sped around his rented flat in Gotham. His put-me-up was paid for by G.C.P.D and it showed. It was tiny, rough around the edges, in a semi-dubious part of town but it didn't leak and the neighbours were quiet so Wally didn't complain. It wasn't like it would take him any time to just pop home but somehow tonight, that wasn't where boredom took his mind.

His eyes alighted on the manila folder on the only table in the place. The Speedster was trying to be all detective about this, Batman would have been proud, but he knew that he'd only really made the file because he had nothing else to do, nor fill it with. Wally had read the notes he'd made a hundred times but really, he knew everything off by heart because he had nothing more than circumstances and words. He hadn't been able to 'bump' into Batman as his civilian self and he couldn't quiz him as Flash so that avenue was glue shut with unbreakable superglue. Bruce, whilst they were back on speaking terms, was still refusing to be drawn into any Batman discussion.

The red head frowned, pausing in his pacing. Actually, Bruce rarely talked about himself. He deflected, joked, with such ease that Wally hadn't noticed him doing it. On reflection Wally realised it was another part of the defences Bruce had put up after being orphaned, keeping himself alone so no one could hurt him by leaving him, again.

"That's so messed up…" Wally said out loud. "And wrong and…"

Wally's train of thought didn't get finished as his feet started moving again. His keys were in his pocket as the door to his apartment clicked shut behind him. The Speedster kept to fast, normal pace until he was a block away where he ducked into a dark alley and hit a speed where no one would be able to recognise him if they saw the blur. It was a matter of moments for Wally until he was at Wayne Manor. He carefully remembered not to speed up to the door this time, instead taking the painfully slow walk up the stupidly long drive. Apparently that meant that Alfred was already at the front door when he got to it and the Englishman greeted him with a smile.

"Good afternoon Master Wallace. Master Bruce is in the library. Shall I prepare you something to eat?"

Wally grinned.

"The service here is flawless."

"I have had many years practice," Alfred let Wally in and shut the door behind him.

"I guess that depends on whether Bruce is busy or not," Wally shrugged.

A faint smile hovered over Alfred's lips.

"Regardless, I would not hesitate to assume that you will be here for some period of time, as that seems to be the norm now."

The red head grinned at the same time as feeling slightly embarrassed.

"You noticed huh? The library?" Wally pointed one way down one of the infinite number of corridors and when Alfred nodded, headed that way, leaving the butler to smile a little more.

As soon as Wally was out of sight, he zipped in another direction, searching through the house, flipping through personal things in each room. He felt dirty and wrong doing this, but Bruce would not open up to him quick enough for what Wally wanted and certain lines of questioning were clearly no go areas, as he'd already seen. The stopping point for Wally was the accidental discovery of Bruce's underwear drawer.

"Whoa, no, nope," Wally slammed the drawer shut and sped back downstairs, this time to the library. He slowed at the grand, wooden double doors, pushing one open to slip inside. The room was vast; bookcases from floor to ceiling, a mezzanine landing running around the whole landing, adding to the height and scale of the room and a huge, ornate fireplace dead centre in front of Wally, opposite the door. Wally had been in here before, but it never failed to impress him. His whole apartment back in Central City would fit in here, twice over, although it didn't feel ostentatious. It felt… homely.

Bruce heard the door open and knew from the steps that it was Wally not Alfred. He turned from the fireplace, idly wondering how Wally managed to time his visits to coincide with quiet, melancholy moments in his life. His eyes glanced back up to the three family portraits hanging on the wall next to the stairs to the mezzanine level.

"Do you actually get time to read anything in here?" Wally quipped.

"Occasionally," Bruce put the empty glass tumbler down on the mantelpiece, watching Wally come closer, eyes still flicking around the room before their sharp green gaze turned to him.

"I realised that, despite the number of home invasions I've managed, you've actually told me very little about you. When we talk, well, when I talk, you answer me without, you know, answering me. I know I talk loads, and that's ok, I'm used to taking up the whole conversation, but I came here wanting to know things, which obviously you're not going to tell me," Wally waves his hand at Bruce, conceding his own point and showing there was more yet to come. "But I'm now coming back because I want to know you as opposed to getting answers to the Batman problem."

Bruce tilted his head slightly, listening to Wally.

"So what do you want to know?"

Wally shot him an unimpressed look, "Dude you can't just say that! That's not how conversations work and it always makes the other person's mind go blank." Wally turned his gaze away, eyes darting back over the shelves. He frowned, pausing. On one shelf, right at floor level were a stack of boxes, not books. They were old, slightly faded, with worn corners and nothing about them fit in this room. Curiosity drew the Speedster over and he crouched on his haunches to read the edges of the boxes to find them to be board games; Risk, Stratego, Cluedo, Chess, Backgammon, Battleships…

"Are these yours?"

Bruce nodded.

"They are all… kinda the same aren't they?"

"My father considered strategy games to be educational as well as entertainment," Bruce smiled lightly. "I wasn't always very good."

"I haven't played all of them. I could never get my head around Chess but I think I remember Stratego."

"The rules are not that complicated."

"Oh, you remember how to play?" Wally said amused.

"Yeah... a friend once taught me," Bruce answered, glancing over at the fire place, remembering when he sat in front of it as a child, being taught to think like his opponent by a boy his own age. Wally pulled the game from the shelf and Bruce half expected it to be dusty from years of neglect, but Alfred kept the Manor too clean for such a thing. He wanted to tell Wally to stop, to put it back, but he kept silent as the red head put it down on the table, lifting the lid to reveal the pieces inside.

"It's been years since I've played this," Wally grinned, eyes still on the box. "I never had the patience as a kid. I bet I do now and you can't beat me. C'mon, let's play."

The dark haired hesitated. His mind flashed back years, recalling the last person to ask him that, to say he couldn't beat him, the last person he played with a shock of red hair and there was a twist of pain. You always do this, Bruce. You always attack without knowing your opponent's weaknesses. Wally slid into his seat at the table, fingers already setting up the pieces before he glanced up at the other man still standing, looking a little lost. "Bruce? You alright?"

"I'm fine," Bruce sat down, slowly. He reached out and took the red spy, turning it over in his fingers. It had always been Tommy's favourite piece and Bruce had learned to appreciate its strengths. Of course it had its weaknesses, but so did every piece.

"This friend of yours, you still play with him? I bet you know each others moves inside out now."

"No," the dark haired man set the spy down on the board. "We haven't played for a long time." Wally's green eyes watched him curiously, guessing there was more behind that sentence. "The last time we saw each other... He wasn't… well."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Wally's fingers ran down the blue flag. "I guess you'll have to make do with me then."

"I think it's more than making do Wally," Bruce said before he'd thought about it and didn't regret it when the other man gave him a bright smile, losing that sad edge he'd developed. Wally set about placing his pieces on the board and as Bruce watched him do it, he found himself realising that he had a friend in Wally as good as he'd ever had. They were both grown men, with so much on their plate, yet Wally took time out to play a board game with him, reminding him of the little pleasures he used to have in his life but had long since lost. He might have been sitting in Tommy's seat, sharing some of those highlighting characteristics but there was so much that was different about Wally that the pain of remembrance couldn't linger long.

xxx

Wally had been dreaming about the Swedish bikini team since he'd seen an outdated poster hanging in a senior's locker at school. It had been a teenage boy's perfect wet dream scenario, with only one of him surrounded by all of them. They laughed at his jokes, brushed up against him, hanging on his arm and his every word. It didn't matter how often it played out, and it always played out exactly the same way, Wally enjoyed every minute of it. It was comfortable and familiar, like a worn blanket and was often a balm to frazzled nerves from a day spent on edge. Perhaps, because of that, the red head wasn't instantly aware of a different presence in the dream. He wasn't paying attention but he was aware, in that fuzzy dream like state, that there was something off about this Swedish bikini team.

Eventually the stranger became clear enough to work out that the figure had black hair and was taller than Wally. He frowned a little, trying to see them more, beyond the blonde hair and white teeth of the women around him and blinked a few times when the figure turned out to be distinctively male in appearance, but even that didn't alarm him. Everything seemed to be acceptable in dreams. As the Speedster watched, the man drew closer, the bikini team parting before him without seeming to be aware they were doing it. The girls were a little fuzzy now, like they couldn't exist properly if Wally didn't concentrate on them fully, but he didn't notice.
The man was hovering over him, nearly stepping on his toes before Wally recognised him as Bruce. Wally tilted his head back to look upwards at Bruce's face from where he was sitting and the girls were gone. It took him a moment to realise why it had taken him so long to recognise the billionaire, but then again he hadn't ever seen him naked before. No, he wasn't naked, Wally slowly corrected himself. He was wearing a pair of black bikini trunks and nothing else. He may as well have been naked though, for how much it covered. The red head watched muscles play in Bruce's thighs and stomach as he bent forward, hands landing on the arm rests at either side of Wally and he could feel Bruce's breath across his face he was so close.

"Wally," Bruce said, his voice all wrong. It was dark and rough and so familiar. That sound, coming out of those lips was enough to jolt the red head straight out of sleep. Wally blinked awake in bed, blearily making out the ceiling in the half light from beyond his haphazardly drawn curtains. He didn't need to look at his clock to work out it was far too early. What the hell was he doing conscious? The red head rubbed his eyes sleepily and bits and pieces of his dream filtered back to him. He stopped dead and his mouth dropped open in shock as he remembered that Bruce had been present and by himself at the end, wearing very little. Wally slapped his hand across his forehead and groaned.

"Jesus, that'll teach me to go rummaging through Bruce's things."