A/N: holiday crack...because I had a really rough day. Pure, unapologetic silliness.
It All Comes Out In The Wash
It wasn't his fault.
Well, okay, it was...kind'a.
But not totally.
He'd been a tad rushed, after all, and that there was Linda's doing; so it was only fair for her to assume part of the blame.
Like that argument was going to wash after she found out her favorite white evening gown had gone missing.
Along with the rest of the laundry.
"Yes. No. Yes. Maybe. Okay. Uh huh. Of course."
Yes, he'd made the dinner reservations; no to forgetting to have Jessie Quick babysit for the kids. Yes, he'd wear his best shirt; maybe it was clean? Okay, he'd check and if not it would be by tonight. Uh huh, he knew this was important to her. Of course he'd be at the restaurant on time.
Sheesh. Women and their little peccadilloes about the tiniest of details. It was only their first ever Valentine's Day dinner date together with Linda's parents. It didn't have to be perfect. (I mean, there was no way as a hero he could legitimately pre-order a ninja attack in advance as a desperate gambit to get out of schmoozing with his in-laws when by rights he should be free to be smooching his wife. Superman frowned on League members doing that kind of thing.
The pre-ordering a ninja attack thing, not the smooching your significant other thing.)
Besides, he would have plenty of time to get his shirt washed and ironed.
Well, he would have except that Gorilla Grodd decided to stop by and make a monkey of himself in downtown Keystone. No sooner was Tarzan's delinquent sidekick penned then Weather Wizard tried to make the ongoing hockey game Central City was hosting more interesting by heating things up and turning it into a warm water sport. It was sheer bad luck that the regular stadium designed for such sporting events had suffered from fried electronic circuitry (thank you oh so much, Trickster) so that they'd had to temporarily relocate to the nearest frozen lake.
Hockey pucks, let it be said, were not meant to float and neither were grown men dressed in heavy protective gear bearing sticks that held only the remotest resemblance to canoe paddles.
Game canceled on account of the need to call in Aquaman...or in his stead, one Scarlet Speedster who hated undersea diving for panicky hockey players wielding sticks.
Captain Cold had taken exception to this.
Not to the sight of the Flash doing underwater ballet with ungrateful bruisers, no; but because his favorite team had been winning before both sides had (no pun intended) gotten in over their heads.
Naturally, somehow, someway, some undeclared clod wielding a weather wand (Wally and dedicated enemy -yet fellow Concubine fan- Captain Cold were in total agreement in wanting to stick that rod where the sun didn't shine) had managed to stir up a dust storm and get dirt in the playing area and...it was an instant mud fight.
Talk about fighting dirty.
Flash had finally corralled all the bad guys, but it had looked like Clayface's twin brother was hauling their sorry Rogue butts to Iron Heights. Some of the cops there had tried to haul him in as well on account of that. By the time all was said and done and being made fodder for the evening news he was about done in.
Oh hell, the dinner date!
Tired and frustrated, Wally had zipped home and tossed his dress shirt and Linda's evening gown into the laundry...adding his filthy Flash uniform in without a thought...and set the controls to Xtreme Clean.
It hadn't hit him until the stupid machine was halfway through the spin cycle...that is, the ramifications of trusting detergent commercials and his not thinking things through.
"So you're telling me that you threw your muddy Flash costume in with the whites? I take it everything is pink then. Afraid I can't help you, dear. Have you tried calling a professional cleaner for advice?" Wally's unofficial grandma, Joan Garrick, listened to the frantic voice on the other end of his cell phone connection. "Oh gracious, that does sound rather unprecedented. Has it turned hostile? Well, Wally, you must admit that really is a legitimate question all things considered. I remember the time Jay... No dear, I am being sympathetic to your plight. Why don't I let you talk to my husband? He might have more on-hand experience with this than I."
Wordlessly she handed the phone to a frowning Jay who had been frantically trying to wave off any such involvement. Wasn't having to deal with Bart during his Impulse stage enough for any man's nerves?
Joan just glared at him.
He took the phone, wondering just what had happened that Wally was using a cell to seek advice rather than just running straight over to their home.
"Hi there, Junior, what's up?"
"Jay! I tossed my speed force uniform into the washing machine with Linda's whites!"
"In that case I hope she likes pink."
"I'm serious -would you mind being serious too? We're not talking one of Barry's old suits here, you know. It's a catastrophe! Ever hear the children's rhyme about the fork and spoon?"
Jay scratched his head, wondering what eating utensils had to do with...
Oh god. It was amazing how after just a few rounds as a superhero your imagination started conjuring up the worst and oddest scenarios automatically...and the craziest was usually right on target.
"You don't mean...?"
"That's..." The first Flash searched for the right word to use. He may not have ever been a member of the JLA, but he was a founder of the JSA. Weirdness was not confined to the younger generation so 'impossible' was out. "...improbable."
Years ago, Wally had stumbled upon a way to create his Flash attire out of pure Speed Force energy. As long as some part of his mind retained the image in his head, the uniform continued to exist even to where he could bare his face and have the cowl simply flop back onto his shoulders just like the old fabric version would. The ring with the secret compartment was retained purely for nostalgic value.
"Not with my luck," Wally grumbled over the little device. "The centrifugal action of the washer's spin cycle must have been strong enough to interfere with my residual thought emanations and...it got mixed with the...er...the other things."
"So now your laundry has a bad case of Speed Force stains?" Garrick sighed.
"You could say that. Not something just fabric whitener is going to remedy." There was a pause. "I think my dress shirt went off with Linda's gown towards Lover's Lane."
That gave the war vet pause.
"Hold on. You're...saying that not only did the color run off of your Speed Force suit...but that it made the regular clothing animate?"
"Duh. Haven't you been listening? If pink was the only issue I'd just bleach it all."
Jay felt a migraine coming on. Even his imagination hadn't conjured up that level of crazy. Really, this sounded like something more up Max Mercury's alley. Or even Dr. Fate's if some Lord of Chaos was responsible for this.
"The Speed Force has given life to your polyester blends and your first fear is that they've absconded to Lover's Lane?" Garrick asked. Just for clarification.
"Honestly. Where else would a classy shirt take its lady's wear?" Wally wanted to know. "Jay...we've got to find them...before they start making baby clothes together. If that gown goes maternity-wise Linda will throw a fit. You know how clothes never get back to their original shape once they're stretched out."
Okay, this was starting to sound like an April Fool's joke. In fact, the likelihood that Wally had tore off more than the appropriate number of pages from his calendar and mistaken the date was surely more probable than an evening gown turning into a maternity dress on account of a dress shirt getting frisky.
"At this point I'm hoping you break out laughing and confess that this was just a crank call."
"Jay, if you hear any snickering it's probably due to the fact that your house lies in a direct line between mine and and Lover's Lane. " He added in a fatalistic mutter, "At least my clothing might get some fun tonight because Linda's going to kill me."
It was at this point Jay considered how lucky he was to be semi-retired and not obliged to fight any superhero fires.
"Joan...close the drapes. Just do it, honey. I'm turning in early tonight. Goodnight, Wally." He started to shut down the phone connection. Maybe even remove the batteries...
Wally sighed as he hung up the phone and hoped that Linda and her parents were amenable to going casual for their dinner engagement.
Out on Lover's Lane, a pink dress shirt attempted to casually pop the back buttons off of an equally pink evening gown.