.i.i.

Tap. What was Roy doing? Tap. The speedster's red-and-yellow high top sneaker wagged impatiently in the air before stomping back on the asphalt of the apartment complex's parking lot. Taptaptap. Was Roy getting molested in the stairwell by the little old lady in Unit D7? Tap. Again? TAPTAPTAPTAP

Wally twisted the ribbed knob on his MP3 player away from him, his music increasing to a louder thumping of bass in his eardrums, and he vaguely considered jumping jacks—anything— to shake off this bundle of excess nervous energy (where it was coming from… he had no idea… with how freakin' exhausted he was, Wally was going to be surprised if he could maintain a believable outward show of being alert). Anyway, Roy always had a way of making him nervous even when they were—…

His thoughts broke off and Wally perked up as Roy stepped out from the rust-eaten apartment door exit, combing his fingers through damp, dark red bangs and padding in gray socks to where the younger boy suddenly eyed him rapt with curiosity. "Um…are you wearing a Flash hoodie?"

The nineteen-year-old scowled at him, partly at the fact Wally had to announce this to the neighborhood instead of using a normal level of talking with those stupid blue ear buds blasting away, and partly because, yes, he was, what of it. "Some assholes stole my laundry basket in the basement and I found this," he grumbled.

"…and so you stole it," Wally pointed out, noting the particularly large grease stains and how it hung loosely around Roy's frame, "From an overweight guy in his forties living with his Mom."

"I'll returning it," Roy said defensively, burying his nose to the inside collar for a brief moment and making a pained face. "Oh…shit, yeah, good thing too because it needs a couple washes."

The speedster cackled, imitating pinching his own nose. "Now you'll smell like cheesy BO forever."

"What are you even—?" Roy wrestled the other boy into a headlock, yanking out his blue ear buds. Pouring out was a Michael Jackson mash up with Justin Timberlake. Yeah. Really. What even.

"Way to ruin the 80 classics."

"Fff—!" Wally gently shoved him away, grinning. "Do you have my AP chem book or what?" Roy slipped it from under his armpit and cradled it out for the younger to take. Wally blinked. Roy had moved in closer; inches; millimeters; no longer feet; almost too quickly for him to catch. But in actuality… nothing was too quick for a speedster to catch…even a tired and distracted and kinda horny speedster.

Beneath the unnamed, vinegary smell of the red-and-lightning-bolt hoodie, it was sweet with Roy's tangerine-scented shampoo and Roy's small breathes ghosting his temple. Vanilla yogurt. Probably Roy's breakfast. "What do I get for my good deed?" Roy's fingers grazed Wally's clenching his textbook.

Mentally cursing a boyfriend who enjoyed teasing way too much, Wally said with a weak laugh, "Eternal gratitude considering I ran 2672.6 miles to get to Star City on an empty stomach."

Ah… damn hunger pains… with more energy and more time, Wally would have zipped into Oregon for a second or two before getting into California. The food channel mentioned something about a famous doughnut shop with maple frosting and bacon. Bacon~… ah… right, he should think about bacon instead of Roy's fingers… Roy's long, warm fingers massaging his skin… and… owstomachowowow—

"Are you okay?" At the concerned tone, Wally forced a good-natured but apprehensive smile.

"Haven't eaten…anything," he then murmured as Roy's face darkened with frustration, "Sorry."

"You know I don't keep anything in the apartment." Before Wally could apologize for the second time, he was presented with a rolled up bag of nacho cheese puffs from the inside pocket of Roy's hoodie. The older looked about as unsure as Wally was. "…I guess that explains the cheesy smell." Roy handed off the bag as Wally cautiously then gratefully devoured the entirety of its contents, a thin smile peaking. "I've got evening classes in sixteen minutes. You've got curfew, don't you, kid?"

Wally always winced a little at the 'Kid' title though it never was ill-willed. "I always cut it thin."

"If you get grounded then who am I going to get to watch the new episodes of Supernatural?"

Wally sucked the cheesy ends of his fingers for a moment, watching as Roy's blue eyes ticed up a size.

"How about Robs? He actually makes a good pillow when you sit on him," he informed him blandly, smirking.

"Yeah, right, because I'm looking for an excuse to fight with Artemis," Roy muttered, "Because not only do I date her ex— which, by the way, she took time to remind me last week how overjoyed she was about that— but that I would also had the audacity to spoon her boyfriend on my sofa."

Wally's smirk faded at the sarcasm. "…Yeah. Maybe not." He crumpled up the bag, cocking a hand back to toss it into the garbage bin and hesitated when Roy's arms touched around his waist, hooking.

"Hm?"

"Sorry…" Their chests pressed together. Roy's heart beating solidly to his. "I just miss seeing you."

Roy never was one for easy apologies. Wally's lips tilted up again and he rested his forehead against the fleshy space beneath Roy's jaw, as Roy's arms tightened snug around him.

"… …yuck, okay, you really need to get this thing washed like now."

"I know."

"…hey, um, you're not wearing anything underneath—"

"No, I'm not." Roy's whisper was hot and wicked sensual spoken into his ear . His heart was galloping. Could he feel it…? Wally gulped shallowly, squirming as those hands wrapped to his waist released to shift downwards from his pale blue, linen shirt to the seat of his ass through his jeans, gripping lightly.

"Roy…" he groaned. "Hnn…"

Another whisper. More urgent. Roy's dry lips pressing rigidly into his cartilage. "How are you about the focused rate between neurochemical stimulation and the intervals of erectile contractions?"

Wally's eyebrows pulled together.

"…You mean if I could use the Speed Force to have sex with you?" he asked, turning his face up and grinning thoughtful and big. "Experiments still need to be done."

Roy's fondling, tempting hands on his ass squeezed. "…You have fourteen minutes to figure it out."

.i.i.

End.

.i.i.


As usual... YJ doesn't belong to me and neither does Wally's music choices or what he and Roy watch on Fridays or that store. I think writing Roy/Wally is getting easier. Huzzah. And, hey, any comments and questions are fine by me. I'd love to hear your input. -heart- Also, I'm late for your birthday update shadowinthedark13 and I've been wanting to stab this story in the throat for being so difficult and taking forever... but I hope this is a pleasant surprise and that you at least got a chuckle out of it, Morgan~~