— The Three Times Wally West comforts you (and the one time you comfort him)
Pairing: Wally West x gn! reader
Summary: the first time you meet Wally West, it's with tears, and every time after that seems to go exactly the same, until it's Wally himself coming to you
Word Count: 2.7k
Content/CW -> gn! reader, emotional scenes + lots of crying, reader is dick's bsf, robbery + scary moments
froggi yaps -> needed me some wally after the weekend i had and this simply came to me in a dream...basically a much longer version of this but i hope you guys enjoy nonetheless <3 also totally not posting this from work on my lunch break >.<
You’re already in tears by the time you’re turning the key to Dick Grayson’s apartment. The clicking of the lock brings relief, the promise of your best friend on the other side. After the day you’ve had, he’s the only person you want to see.
You swing the door open only to be met with a tall, red haired man on the other side. He blinks at you, brilliant eyes framed by a smattering of freckles and a handsome jawline.
Jesus, Dick really needs to stop giving a spare key to everyone.
You find yourself self consciously rubbing away the fat tears on your cheeks. “You’re not Dick,” is all you manage to say.
“Funny,” he cracks a smile, crossing his arms over his old band t-shirt. “I was gonna say the same to you.”
You nod, tight lipped and awkward. “Do you—“ Your voice breaks slightly, “do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No clue, I just got here.”
Your heart sinks further in your chest, more tears burn at the back of your eyes. You scrub a hand over your face, pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath.
You speak quieter now, words muffled by the lump in your throat. “Can you just let him know I stopped by?”
“Sure thing.”
You turn around to leave, taking another deep breath to compose yourself, when he speaks again.
“I know it’s none of my business but—“ He pauses, like he’s struggling to find the right words. “Are you okay? It just—you seem like you’re having a bit of a rough day.”
You look back at him, “that obvious, hey?”
He nods solemnly. “I heard I’m a good listener, if you want someone to talk to.” He laughs slightly, “well, no, that’s not exactly true but you don’t need to know that.”
Your heels spin back towards him. He gestures towards the big sectional in Dick’s living room, plush and inviting.
You give in. “Alright, Mr. Not-so-good-listener.”
He flashes you a toothy grin, “just Wally is fine.”
He reaches out a hand and you shake it, offering up your own name. Something glimmers behind his eyes like the start of something new.
It’s hours before Dick finally comes home, his arrival going unnoticed by the two people sitting on his couch that he very much did not invite over.
He’s not sure he’s ever seen a more confusing sight than you and Wally West sitting on his couch, talking like you’ve been friends for years.
“I guess I missed my invite to the party,” he calls out, setting his backpack down on the chair.
Your head snaps up, looking at him like a dear in headlights. Wally barely reacts, more than likely having heard Dick’s arrival and just choosing to ignore it.
“You’re late,” Wally calls back, looking him up and down. “And not even fashionably.”
That draws a laugh out of you, a little colour coming to Wally’s cheeks at the sound. Dick frowns, tugging off his coat and giving his outfit a once over.
“What’s wrong with my outfit?”
Wally shrugs, a perfect picture of nonchalance, and turns back to you. You’d stopped crying hours ago, your conversation shifting away from your terrible, no-good day to casual conversation with Wally.
Dick shuffles off to his room to change out of his outfit—a plain t-shirt and jeans, not dissimilar to what Wally’s wearing—and Wally thrusts his phone at you.
“Here,” he says, “so you can call me next time you have a bad day.”
You offer him a coy smile, “you know for being a not great listener, you actually listened pretty good.”
“It helps when the person speaking is good looking.”
You snort, fingers pausing on the keyboard of his phone. You glance up only to see he’s being dead serious, not a hint of nervousness on his face. You go back to filling out your name and number for him, sending yourself a quick message from his phone before handing it back.
He grins when he sees your contact. “Alright, Good Looking, well played.”
You and Wally text regularly after that, just quick messages to see how your day’s going, or little things that remind you of each other.
There’s a few things you’ve learned about Wally West since you’ve met. One being that he’s an incredibly disorganized person, his texts coming in sporadic bursts rather than consistent conversation. The other being he has the most unusual sleep schedule known to man, seemingly asleep and awake at all hours of the day.
Unfortunately for you, you’ve come to find both endearing.
It’s at a party you see him next. A small mixer held on the roof of Dick’s building, a group of friends you’d never met before all talking like they know each other.
It should be fun and yet, here you are, tucked away on the fire escape, sipping on a glass of water in the hopes it’ll stop the simmering under your skin. It doesn’t, and does nothing to quell your thoughts going a million miles an hour.
Dick had been too busy chatting with Kory—a tall woman who was also probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen—to notice you slip out of the party. A different set of eyes, however, had noticed.
You’re sitting with your eyes squeezed shut, taking deep breaths when you feel a sudden warmth settle in next to you. Your eyes snap open only to find a familiar pair of brilliant ones staring back at you. Wally.
“And here I thought the party was upstairs.” He nudges you slightly, and despite his joking tone, his face is a perfect picture of concern. “What’s going on, Good Looking?”
A sigh passes through your lips. “Just…a little overwhelmed. Lots of people I don’t know and—” You play around with a frayed string from your pants, twirling it around your finger, “it’s silly, really.”
“Hey, I love silly.”
It’s like a bucket of cold water over your head, clarity washing over you. For the first time since you stepped away from the party, you take a deep breath. You go quiet for a minute, letting the silence of the night fill the cracks between you.
“I hate parties,” you say finally. “I always end up following Dick around like a child, hoping he introduces me to people.”
Wally hums, “why’d you come then?”
Another beat of silence, comfortable but stretched a little too thin.
“I was really hoping you’d come,” you admit quietly.
“Yeah,” he says, that playful demeanour gone for the moment, “so was I.”
You shift closer to Wally, absorbing his body heat through the cold night air. He drapes an arm over your shoulders, inviting you in.
“You could always follow me around, you know.” He rubs a hand up and down your arm, “I know people, too. And I’m better company than Dick.”
“You know people here?”
“All kinds of people,” he flashes you a grin, “Dick and I go way back, I pretty much know all his friends.”
“You didn’t know me.”
“Touché.”
You giggle slightly, and sometime during your conversation, you’ve come to rest your head on his shoulder.
“I think Dick was hiding you.”
You shift your head just enough to meet his eyes. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“I have a bit of a—“ He cringes, “reputation, I guess.”
“A reputation? Anything I should be worried about?”
Wally takes a minute to think, weighing his own history with the dozens of people he’s lost and regained over the years. In the short time you’ve known him, this is the quietest he’s ever been.
“No,” he says finally, resting his head over yours. “Nothing at all.”
Wally’s just finishing up stopping a bank robbery when you call, pausing on top of a building to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Wally?” Your voice sounds shaky.
“Hey, Good Looking.”
“I think—“ You let out a sound of surprise, your voice coming through slightly more muffled, “I think someone’s trying to break into my house.”
Wally’s heart rate picks up. “Why are you calling me and not the police?”
“I live in Bludhaven.”
“Shit.” He hates that you have a point. “Why aren’t you calling Dick?”
“He didn’t answer.”
Wally would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little disappointed at that, hoping you’d come to him first and not his smoking hot best friend.
“What do you think I’m gonna do? I live in a different city.”
“I don’t know,” you trail off, a rustling noise coming in the background. “Just…stay on the line with me while I check it out?”
Wally’s breath catches in his throat. “Check. It. Out?”
“Yes?”
“Okay, absolutely do not do that.”
“I have a bat.”
“You have a—” Wally groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, already planning his route to Bludhaven. “Do not investigate.”
“What, and let them just rob me?”
There’s shuffling, sounds of movement, and Wally curses. You’re going to get yourself killed.
There’s silence on the line while you case your apartment, slowly pushing open your door with the tip of the bat. You’re braced and ready, the banging you’d heard on your front door having ended as soon as you called Wally.
Either someone got in, or someone gave up. You hope for the latter.
It must be your unlucky day because the minute you turn the corner to the entry, a tall figure dressed in dark clothes greets you. You cover your mouth with your free hand, stifling a gasp as you duck back around the corner.
“What is it? What’s happening? Are you okay?” You scramble to turn down the volume on your phone. “Are you there?”
In your panicked haste to mute Wally’s voice, your phone slips from your hand and clatters to the ground, sliding out from around the corner. You press your hand tighter against your lips and flush yourself to the wall.
There’s a clicking sound, followed by heavy footsteps coming closer. You’re so fucked, you’re so fucked, you’re so—
There’s a flash of lightning, all of the hairs on your arms standing up. A blur of red races through your living room. One minute, there’s a shadowy figure and the next, it’s gone, replaced with the Flash.
The Flash is in your living room.
He’s breathing heavily, hands on his hips, face slightly red under the mask from exertion. “Are you—“ He clears his throat, “are you okay?”
You blink, suddenly lightheaded. “You’re…The Flash.”
“I am.”
“You’re in my house, I—why are you in Bludhaven?”
“Are you,” he says slowly, moving to rest a hand on your shoulder, “okay?”
“Where did the—the robber go?”
He says your name, loud and familiar. You stare at him, brows furrowed. The Flash knows your name.
“How do you know me?”
And Wally sighs, because he shouldn’t be here, because he shouldn’t have come back to check on you, because he’s completely screwed himself. But he couldn’t help it. Not when he thought you might be in danger, not when he could hear your time running out.
“Don’t freak out.”
“Why would I—“
Your words die in your throat when the Flash rips off his cowl to reveal Wally West, eyes concerned and face void of his usual smile. You stagger slightly, head spinning as you take in the sight.
“I said,” he catches you against him, walking you down the hall to your bedroom to set you on your bed. “Don’t freak out.”
“You’re the Flash.”
“I am.”
“You—you saved me.”
“It’s what I do.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “You…you got here so fast.”
“They don’t call me the Flash for nothing,” he laughs awkwardly. “You never answered my question.”
“Question?”
“I asked if you were okay.”
You swallow, nodding. “I’m fine, I just—I don’t think I’ll get much sleep after that.”
“I could stay,” he offers just a little too quickly. “If you’re scared.”
Wally’s grateful you don’t seem to notice his sudden eagerness.
“Really? You don’t have bigger, more superhero-y things to do?”
He laughs, cheeks flushing slightly. “I think I could spare a few minutes to make sure you sleep easy tonight.”
And true to his words, Wally steps away for a minute to change, coming back in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that definitely came from the Flash museum. You raise an eyebrow at his choice of attire, no longer self conscious about your own pyjamas he’d caught you in.
Wally climbs into bed after you, keeping a respectful distance despite how badly he wants to pull you into his chest. He lays perfectly still, counting his breaths.
“Are you sure I’m not like,” your voice is tired and thick with sleep, “dooming someone to a horrible fate by keeping you here?”
“You’d be dooming me to a horrible fate by sending me away.”
You drift off soon after that, Wally like a furnace next to you.
At some point in the night, you wake up to a pair of arms around you and Wally’s face nuzzled into your neck. He snores softly against you, body pressed flush to yours.
You can’t help but push yourself closer to him, greedily drinking up his presence.
Things with Wally become routine from that night onwards. He comes over a couple times a week, checks in on you, occasionally stays for dinner. Sometimes, after a particularly bad night, you’ll even wake up with him in your bed, curled around you.
He never talks about the bad nights, at least not to you, but you can always tell.
The last thing you’re expecting on a Tuesday at well past midnight is for the Flash to be standing in your doorway. You flinch when you notice him, sitting up quickly in your bed and flicking on the lamp.
“Wally?”
His head is hung low, his cowl off and red hair covering his face. He doesn’t respond, only stands there like a zombie.
“Wally, are you okay?”
You’re on your feet in an instant when he doesn’t respond again, bare feet against the cold floor as you rush to his side. You cup his chin in your hands, lifting his head so you can look at him.
“Walls?”
A tear slips from his eye, his hands shaky as he brings them to rest on your shoulders. You swipe away his tear, the concern in your throat growing thicker.
“Wally, are you—“
You’re cut off by his lips pressing to yours, a messy desperate kiss connecting him to you. His hands meet at the back of your neck and clasp, pulling you tighter into him while his tongue swipes at the backs of your teeth.
You pull away, stumbling back from him like you’ve been burned. “Wally?”
“Let me pretend,” he mumbles.
“Huh?”
“Let me pretend,” he repeats, stepping towards you. “Just for tonight.”
“Pretend what?”
His hand catches your hip. “That you’re mine, that this—this is okay, that things aren’t terrible.”
“Why are things terrible?”
He steps closer, chest touching you now. His grip on your hip tightens. “I fucked up tonight,” his voice catches in his throat. “People got hurt, I—I couldn’t help them and—“
“Shhh,” you cup his cheeks, looking at him seriously, “it’s okay.”
He shakes his head, more tears coming. “It’s not, it’s really not.”
“You’re a hero, Wally, through and through.”
He brings his head to rest on your shoulder, wet eyes rubbing against the side of your neck. You stroke his hair, rubbing soothing patterns into his scalp. Somehow, you manage to walk him back towards your bed.
He flops backwards onto your mattress, tugging you after him and pulling you into his chest. He breathes in your scent, rubs his hands up your sides, memorizes your shape.
“Wally?”
“Hm?”
“We don’t have to pretend,” you say quietly.
He lifts his head just enough to look at you, confusion written all over his features.
“Earlier,” you say, “you said you wanted to pretend that—that we’re together.”
All of the breath stills in his body.
“We don’t have to pretend,” you repeat. “We can—I can—“
Wally saves you from your own embarrassment by leaning in and pressing his lips over yours. It’s less desperate than before, less messy, but he burns for you nonetheless.
“Let me stay tonight?” He asks softly.
“Always.”
And Wally knows you mean it.
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
