I don't own this stuff, yada yada yada…
So, ummm, got a bit Batman obsessed, and then Justice League obsessed, then read two tons of fanfic, and somehow this happened.
Gift wrapped Bats or Wally for all reviewers; just don't blame me if the Big Bad Bat has busted out by the time you get him. :P
Physical Activity/ Let's Get Physical
Wally was in shock. Like, chills and shaking shock. He was sitting in the entertainment room at Wayne Manor with American Pie 2 (Tim's movie) playing on the projector TV. He wasn't watching. Wally had zipped in and thrown the movie on so Alfred, or Tim, or Dick, or—Wally shuddered at the thought—Bruce wouldn't think he'd seen what he'd just seen. Because Wally didn't want to have to explain to them, especially since he couldn't even explain it to himself. Well no, he could, technically at least.
The Batman needed to be flexible, it was a job requirement. Wally just hadn't thought about how Bruce had become that flexible. Nor had he guessed exactly how bendy the man was. Dear Great Cosmic Muffin, he could give Plastic Man a run for his money.
Wally had come to the manor looking for Dick. He'd zipped around from room to room but hadn't found him anywhere. He hadn't bothered calling ahead, after all it was only about a thirty second run back to Central City anyway, if no one was around he could just run back.
He'd finally heard a noise in the home gym, and whipped in to see what was up with whoever it was. Wally wasn't actually sure how he'd known it was Bruce. Except he was, and it scared the crap out of him. All he'd seen was someone's—no, Bruce's—black spandex clad ass lifted up in the air. Wally had frozen in the doorway, considered making an excuse or comment (because seriously Batman doing yoga), then decided he'd rather keep his insides inside and retreated to the entertainment centre.
He'd put the film on and tried desperately to forget Bruce's ass, and the fact that he'd know it was Bruce's ass. Because if Wally knew what Bruce's ass looked like then logically that meant that he'd spent some time observing said ass. And paying attention. Like, enough to recognize it. Every muscle of it. In painstaking relief. Well, fuck.
Wally had a strict "do not flirt with Batman" policy. Not that he'd ever been aware of a particular attraction to the man, but Wally flirted with everyone and if he tried it with Bruce he had a pretty good feeling he'd get his ass kicked. Hence the policy.
Only now, Wally was reevaluating. The way he figured, if he spent enough time checking Bruce out—or checking Bruce's ass out, or whatever he had apparently been doing—that he could recognize him by upside-down ass alone, then it was time for a new plan. Seriously, The Billowy Cloak of Doom covered The Ass most of the time anyway, when had he had time for a good look? Shit he was so screwed, shit!
So, time for a new policy. Maybe. There was still the whole Bruce kicking his ass issue, and Wally wasn't exactly sure how that weighed against his apparently not-so-new fascination with Bat-butt. Wally giggled. Bat-butt, he could use that later. Maybe. If the policy changed, which he wasn't sure was going to happen.
Dammit! He couldn't think here! Or now. Or something. Not with Bruce three rooms over doing downward dog, or whatever. Because seriously. Spandex. Ass. Bruce. Guh.
Shit! Wally got up and shut off the DVD. He needed to get home, there had to be something in Central City that needed his attention: a bank robbery, or a hostage situation, or a kitten up a tree.
He was still preoccupied by Bruce Wayne: YogaBat when he zoomed out of the entertainment room, which accounted for the fact that he nearly ran straight into the object of his preoccupation. Wally managed to stop himself about six millimeters from smashing into Bruce's chest. Bruce's bare chest. Bruce's bare chest that was directly above Bruce's skintight black spandex shorts. Shiny spandex shorts. And had Wally mentioned skintight? Because wow, even though Bruce's ass seemed to have been the object of Wally's fascination until that point, the front left nothing to be desired. A little voice in the back left corner of Wally's brain wondered where Bruce managed to find big enough shoes.
Wally jerked his eyes up to Bruce's face. Bruce had one eyebrow cocked.
"Umm, hi!" Wally smiled nervously, "Seen Dick?"
The eyebrow climbed higher.
Wally blushed furiously, that had so not sounded the way he'd meant it to. "Nightwing!" He yelped. "I mean, have you seen Nightwing? 'Cause there's this, thing over in Central City that I thought he might want to see. So yeah, Nightwing, seen him anywhere?"
The eyebrow stayed in place, and now there was even the hint of a smirk pulling at Bruce's mouth. This day just kept getting better and better. Wally's blush was redder than his hair.
After what Wally was sure would have felt like an eternity to someone who didn't have super speed, Bruce took pity on him. "I haven't seen him in a week. Blüdhaven's been busy lately." Oh thank God, he'd given Wally an out.
"Blüdhaven, great! I haven't been there in a while, catch you later Bats!" He zipped off before he could make himself look like an even bigger idiot.