A/N: So there I was web browsing while fiddling with the need for some Superman/Flash because while there is BatFlash out there...not much in the way of SupesFlash. Yeah, that means slash, but not hardcore stuff because the fun is all in the pursuit, don't you know? Really mild stuff. Not even kissing. Anyway, I needed to get this out of my system. Don't expect more chapters as I have enough on my plate right now and frankly...have nothing planned out for this anyway. Was sheer whim based on some random thoughts of my Wally muse.
(Come to think... That's how all my League stories started out, dang it.)
Surely you know what being hit by those is like? Brain goes all wobbly and the next thing you know you're writing a new fic?
Title was literally last second. At first I was like "I'll think of something better later. It's grown on me though...like a fungus because on further speculation it's both funny and has this sort of Science Channel serious aspect to it...like Carl Sagan telling us we are all made of star stuff. Dust motes. Heh. It's cosmic! (My subconscious is better at this stuff than I am! Thank goodness one of us has some talent.)
Disclaimer. I don't own anything mentioned below. Not even those dust motes.
Dashes and "..." are the same "..." due to FFN editor eating multiple hyphens all of a sudden. It was fine last week.
The Mating Habits of Dust Motes
Superman was eying him.
Of that Flash was sure of.
Pretty sure of.
Well...it could have been something behind him that Supes was finding so captivating those dozen times in the past day. Goodness knew that what with his x-ray vision Superman could have been eying something way past Flash's personal coordinates...heck, even from beyond the Durasteel bulkheads.
Possibly even in Andromeda.
Two days later and Flash was sure he had it worked out.
Superman was just keeping a judicious eye on those dangerous dust motes floating around in the Watchtower. You could never be too careful with dust motes. They got blind dates with pollens and reproduced like rabbits during Spring Break then went on wild sprees through the air conditioning jet streams causing havoc and random sneeze attacks upon innocent bystanders. It was an established fact that one speedster sneeze attack could create buffeting gales strong enough to send a person flying into walls. Even if that person had a Green Lantern ring health care plan.
In fact anyone with oh, say for instance...feathered wings or a cape attached to their person was just doomed to ride the storm out until the dust motes left said speedster alone.
Yep, Superman was just doing his duty as Leader of the League to protect everyone.
Okay, this was starting to get annoying.
It had been three days already...were those dust motes threatening a hostile takeover or not? Because if they weren't, Flash was thinking Superman ought to let up on the surveillance a smidgen. See, the dust motes were getting a tad nervous. Like, who wouldn't be with The Man of Steel watching their every random movement?
By day four it had just become unbearable.
"Damn it, Supes, how are they going to reproduce and take over the Watchtower with you watching them all the time?"
I mean...honestly. Anyone would have trouble performing with Superman looking on, right? They probably felt guilty what with Clark being The Last Son of Krypton and all and his unable to get any. That would stifle even a dust mote's reproductive inclinations and put them on edge.
Although right now Flash wished he wasn't getting any.
Weird looks, that is.
"Flash, what are you gibbering about now?"
However did the news media get the idea that Batman was the strong and silent type? Seems he was always voicing this or that complaint or opinion whenever Flash was around.
"Nothing." (Nothing he wanted to elaborate on what with the scathing regard he was already getting.)
Bat Stare Of Promised Death Unless More Info Was Coming...Stat.
"Well, Superman started it!"
(Well, he did.)
Flash hated it when circumstances made him act like a pouting child in front of everyone. Circumstances were just...evil like that.
Day Five and Superman had been joined by The Question in keeping tabs on those dust motes behind him. Everyone else was just...steering clear.
Maybe they sensed the dust motes were getting ready to blow?
The only way to escape the weirdness of his team mates (and the doleful demeanor of those frustrated dust motes) was to go for a run along the more barren highways and byways of Earth.
Superman was all too willing to let him escape on a day excursion.
One could say even eager.
Probably pissed that Flash had inadvertently alerted the dust motes back on Day Four that Superman was on to their invasion schemes.
So here he was running along the wilds of northern Canada, Alaska, and Siberia.
No destination in particular.
Not a soul in sight.
Just peace and quiet and free-range dust motes that had already conquered the planet anyway.
Okay, there was the shadow of a bird overhead that had been following him since The Bering Straight.
Or maybe it was a plane?
Yeah, a plane.
One of those stealth jobs with the broad wings that if you didn't know better looked kind of like Rodan swooping in for the kill of all things Japanese (which Flash wasn't, but the Japanese liked the color red and he was kind of decked out in awesome scarlet and kind of looked like a Power Ranger from above so maybe Rodan was confused?)
Okay, either Rodan had just visited his manicurist because being grabbed around the ribcage by mutant pterodactyl talons should hurt more...
"Superman! Wow, what a load off my mind. Actually, I mean my feet because...we sure are up high enough not to be stressing the metatarsals. Only I don't remember requesting a pick up." He looked down at the distant ground. "You know, if they desperately need my charm and wit back at the Watchtower they could have just asked. Or is the teleportation system down again? In that case they should have sent GL because...hate to break it to you, big guy...but I can't hold my breath out in the vacuum of space as long as you."
"This is about the cape thing, isn't it?"
"Get it. Now."
"Sheesh...it was just a joke."
"Okay, okay! Keep your cape on, Batz. Of course that would be in the figurative sense."
"Batz has no sense of humor." Wally grumbled as he zoomed down the highways and byways of the third planet from the sun at nearly top speed:
Past the international water boundary of Themiscrya where his passing wake toppled a sun-bathing Hippolyta from her royal canoe and into the sea. Fortunately, Arthur was there to save her from drowning due to her being unable to stop cursing the ancestry of all speedsters long enough to close her mouth to the salty brine. Unfortunately, Aquaman wasn't above copping a feel. (Unfortunately...that is...for Aquaman; though Dr. Midnight predicted Arthur would recover from those wounds eventually.)
At any event, Hippolyta was out one deluxe hair salon treatment and Aquaman was plain out of luck for the foreseeable future.
"Curse the Flash!"
Past the poker game Orion was enjoying against Hermes outside the Pantheon of Greece:
Hermes was muttering about how stupid this newfangled game was when suddenly a strong blast came through. It was enough to bend down the top halves of all Orion's cards like palm trees in a monsoon wind...much to Hermes amusement.
"Ha! That hand is as threatening as that of a newborn tot. I knew thou was bluffing! I call thy bluff and raise thee double!"
Fuming, the New God pointed towards the Old God's upturned tunic. "Not before I call you a cheat...or is that another Trojan Horse ploy...secreting extra Aces in your boxer waist hem?"
"Thou knowest what this means?" Hermes growled.
"Damn it...yes. We are bound to fight a holy war of honor and I was all set for a date with Athena tonight."
"And I, Aphrodite."
"Curse the Flash!"
"Curse thou Flash!"
Hooking a Left Past the Annual Hell's Angel's 'The Gang's All Here' Picnic & Pie-Eating Contest:
"Some ass in red jammies made off with our rides...and all the pies."
"Not Mad Mom's pies?" cried the horrified bikers.
"Yeah...with Mad Mom too...she was still on her bike."
"I mean it was just a joke! A good joke too."
"Yeah? Well, this ain't no joke, sonny boy!"
"What?" Wally looked back to see an old lady decked out in studded leather sitting amidst a tumbling pile of hyper-moving road hogs and pies.
"Eat stewed rhubarb!" A red hot pie hit him in the mouth.
"Yow! Watch it, lady! Kind of past the speed limit for sight gags, here!" He pried the aluminum tin from his face, licked at the juice around his lips. "I...damn...what did you call this again?"
"Stewed rhubarb, you [censored] ninny!"
"Really? It's good!" Wally licked the pie tin clean.
"You think so? All the boys think those are rubbish. They use them as the booby prizes."
"Well, I think they're delicious. I could eat a dozen!"
"I mean..." he ran up to Superman and swiftly removed the black cape from the Man of Steel's back, "it was just a joke! But Batz got all out of whack over it because that cape holds most of his sex appeal." He made sure to turn gradually enough so as not to lose his geriatric hitchhiker.
"Nobody understands petty thievery anymore, sonny. You're a good boy. But so thin! Here, have another blueberry. Would you want to try the pumpkin next?"
"Thanks, Mad Mom!"
Back at the picnic site a biker closed his cellular. "Tha' were Mad Mom. She says she ain't got no pie inventory fer da picnic no more 'cause we ain't got no discriminatory taste buds nor gastronomics like da Flash's got."
"Curse the Flash!"
"How's the world doing?"
"Fine up until a few minutes ago when all Heaven and Hell broke loose...approximately five minutes after Wally got an inspiration to switch Superman and Batman's capes without their knowing."
"Alert the reserves. It's going to be a long day."
"...so, a few wars broke out. Nobody was really hurt. Except for Arthur and that was hardly my fault. And I returned your and Batz capes to their rightful owners, so we're square."
"Supes, why did you steal back Batman's cape?"
"Super hearing. You said it makes me look more...sexy. So I borrowed it."
"Well, yeah, I can get some of that reasoning."
A few minutes later he really was.
Presumably, so were the Watchtower dust motes.