It's a close call. So very close. The circumstances of the building explosion could have turned out much more differently than it had. They could have been in flaming and bloody pieces.

His partner could have been

Barry's hand clasped to Wally's heaving waist tightens a little out of instinct, and the younger boy lets out a shaky, lulled breath, pressing his yellow costumed face urgently into Barry's shoulder.


Wally isn't a child. Wally wasn't ten anymore, sniffling in his bedroom and so unsure of himself at that age, his little green eyes wet with indignant tears and his little freckled nose wrinkling adorably.

Barry understands this. Perfectly. His nephew has grown to be self-confident and damn perceptive for his age. He trusts Wally to know how to handle certain situations, what battles to pick, to use logic.

But Wally is still a minor. A flippant teenager running rampant with cocky pride and hormones and godknowswhatelse. And Barry is an adult. Misreading a gesture — a clearly-playful-but-not-quite-flirtatious wink behind a goggle lens; a warm, lingering hand steady on the center of his back — while not something condonable… happens. But as a responsible adult, you don't act on it. Right?



"I love you, Uncle Barry," he murmurs across the kitchen countertop, slouching forward with his chin resting on the speckled — no, freckled — and shined countertop, and his green stare purposeful.

As if he expects something out of it. As if hungrily devouring the image of Barry putting away the new groceries, stretching up on his tiptoes for the top pantry cabinets. The base of Barry's throat heats and he pauses a moment before shutting another cabinet door. "…I love you too, kiddo."

An elated — no, it's lustful, itcan'tbe — light appears in those green eyes. "I'm really happy you said that."


The first time is innocent. And at least… Barry wonders it had been. There had been something about an inaccuracy on one of his report at the lab and Barry bemoaned the plain truth that it had been his fault all along and how soon he could fix it and his nephew laughs as if the very idea is dismissible. His dimples pop.

"You couldn't have screwed up." Wally pushes away his electric yellow cowl, revealing the lines of tanning on his exposed, young face, and he insists softly, "…You're too perfect."

And it's a lingering hand again. Just not on his back. Barry knows he has moved in closer, with all intentions of fully inclining into him, and that hand caresses the side of Barry's red-costumed hip.


The way Wally looks at him now is… obsessive. But not in a manic sense. Just. As if Wally wants nothing more than to admire him. And hero-worship is not completely unhealthy for someone his age or is it unwelcomed to Barry. Frankly, it was darling when Wally was the naive ten-year-old.

But Wally isn't ten anymore.

…Now it's a problem.


The second time… he feels… dirty.

Arguably, in the muddle of it all, it had been a long week. For the both of them.

Wally had been banned from a week's worth of missions (for acting irresponsibly during a debriefing, more than once) and Barry had been mentally exhausted from his work in Central. Wally had been itching to get out… to do anything… and rumor was that there was a local carnival. With further persuasion, namely whining, from his partner, Barry halfheartedly agreed to a play date.

Not a date. Just to be clear… family bonding time. As a responsible adult, he could reason this.

They avoid the rides with prolonged suspension (for obvious reasons). Eating arenas are most definitely a given. The props in the "haunted" barn make them tremble and clutch at each other not out "terror" but laughing so hard that they can barely stand.

His nephew runs ahead at human speed into the Hall of Mirrors, grinning brightly in an unspoken challenge. Barry half catches his intent and walks through the first maze untroubled, watching his reflection distort menacingly and dizzingly with each row of silvery mirror. Distorted. Wrong.

His mind is elsewhere when a flash of red appears in the mirror and Barry has milliseconds to sidestep a lunge from behind and Wally's shoulder accidentally hits the glass hard when he misses.

A momentary register of pain on his freckled face, and it only takes a moment before Barry is holding him up carefully, concern written on his expression, and wanting to take a look at the shoulder as if Wally was in danger of bleeding all over the concrete floor. It's stupid to worry over nothing but Wally smiles amused by it and flexes his arm exaggeratedly — "That was my fault, Uncle Barry. See, it doesn't even hurt anymore…" — and Barry's grip on the younger loosens reluctantly.

Something slips into place in Wally's eyes. Something desirable and irresistibly complex.

Wally's chapped lips hover into Barry's airspace before separating and claiming the lower lip, sucking the residue of the sticky blue cotton candy from it, sucking Barry's lip into his own mouth possessively.


Iris had always criticized him, whether teasingly or harshly, for being a "less than mature" adult.


As soon as he hears from the League about Bialya and Wally basically collapsing upon returning and onto the front doorstep of Mount Justice from dietary reasons, Barry drops everything.

After a few hours and a stomach full of Iris's cooking that Barry brought with him and thankfully didn't have to force down the younger's throat, Wally's color surfaces from earlier deadly pallor.

"Feeling any better, kiddo?"

"…heh." Wiggling under his flannel covers, Wally confesses,"…I guess I'm a little sleepy." Barry's tanned fingers gently brushes the reddish bangs from his forehead.

"I think I'll let you rest then…"

Wally's arms (bare, well-muscled from all of his years of crime-fighting and metabolic irregularities) that were exposed by his thin gray tee shirt seize up from under the heavy covers. They wrap desperately around Barry's neck to hold him in place. Wally pressed his face into it, breathing hard.


"I'm sorry—"

And his nephew doesn't mean a word of it. He knows it. He knows it. And Barry feels like screaming. Fighting these dirtywrongbad feelings. Instead he pins Wally to the bed below, nudging Wally's pajama legs apart, and they're not bodies anymore but frenzied noises and raw need. Barry faintly realizes when dry-thrusting against him that Wally's hands clawing deep his back are vibrating slowly.


Control was something Barry sort of prided himself on — the ability to gather information fast, to escape telepathic attacks, and to be in control of himself when it came to Speed Force. His mental cognition had always been top-notch when it came down to it. And… admittedly… maybe not so much his libido… but he couldn't use that as excuse for losing control with a minor… his partner… his…



Wally's green eyes narrow. Hurt.

"…Do you hate me or something?" he whispers in the entranceway.

Barry's heart started to squeeze painfully in his chest at the look. Is this what his guilt amount their relationship to… Avoidance? Distrust? Wounded emotions?

His tanned hands clench into a dishrag.


His nephew starts babbling at nervous rapid pace, his back to the doorframe nearby, "I mean you'd tell me if I did something wrong right wasnitthatbadImeanIknow'mavirginbut—"

Barry's wet, sudsy hands grasp onto Wally's shoulders, dumping the sink water on his jersey shirt. The younger boy glances up surprised. For once, Barry damns the concept of right and wrong, and goes with a comfortable impulse as he leans down to place a soft, loud kiss to that sun-burnt, freckled nose.

"…You were perfect."


Repost from Livejournal/YJ Anon Meme. My readers seem veeeeeeeery interested in more Barry/Wally and I am here to deliver~


"Guys...I saw Barry without his mask and I basically feel to my knees in awe. The blond hair, long legs, green eyes...Oh god. I had no idea he looked that amazing...

*underaged dirtywrongbad ahead*

Anyway, I would really like some Barry/Wally, with Wally being the one to initiate the sexual advances and act seductive towards his mentor/uncle. (I'd really love it you play up the hero worship/unhealthy fixation.) At first Barry thinks he's misreading Wally and feel guilty for his "bad thoughts" but Wally becomes bolder and bolder (teasing Barry, making him flustered, hot and bothered) until he basically jumps Barry's bones. Well, Barry's control finally after all the teasing and he gives in to Wally's advances (cue frenzied, rough sex). He feels terribly guilty but Wally continues his advances and Barry can't find the will to stop his illicit tryst."