@fatehunted gives Wally an emotional kiss, relieved to find [her] lover alive ... (but I reversed it)
PERCEPTION at a standstill, Wally hesitates. Bodies surround him, frozen in dynamic poses as they twist to avoid brutal hits on the verge of delivery; projectiles float midair, avoiding the invisible grip of gravity as they slowly venture along their trajectory. Fully aware that the longer he lingers in this state of time all but ceasing, the closer his friends are to injury. Or worse.
Pushing his body beyond limits he normally avoids, a red blur is all the ongoing chaos can perceive. He snatches bullets and arrows from their flight paths, collecting them in the crook of his arm. While removing any remaining stray projectiles, he adjusts any opponent's aims to avoid direct hits to his allies. Arms full, he turns and deposits his collection in a dim corner of the warehouse.
Nearly satisfied with his contribution, he scans the battlefield once more. Dick is clear of any immediate danger; M'gann and Connor appear to be handling their quarry rather well; Kaldur was literally mopping–he snickers to himself–the floor with the pair that dared take him on.
Even the newbies (those he wasn't fully familiar with post-return) seemed to be doing well; his help wasn't completely needed, but it would definitely end this breakout fight sooner than expected.
Ah, the perks of being a speedster...
He begins to exit his suspended state of hyperspeed when his eyes glide along and land on her. He feels everything stop.
Electricity gathers around his form as he sees the blade arc, descending and skimming her shoulder in a cruel imitation of a caress. Her cry is not silent, but all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears.
This is exactly what you're meant to prevent.
His body acts on autopilot: thrown forward, the air rushes around his form as he cuts his way across the combat zone. Heedless of any others around him, the whirlwind of air that follows him is violent and tempestuous. Stray bolts of lightning burst from him, entangling with the gale following in his wake.
All he can focus on is her.
The masked assailant that dare cut her is thrown back with a leading hook. Scooping her up into his arms, he exits the warehouse and carries her to a darkened area not brimming with enemies. As he delicately clutches her to his chest, he assesses her with a quick glance; riddled with random wounds and nicks, her most recent is rather deep and seeping blood. Biting at his lower lip, he busies himself by removing his emergency kit and readying to bind her neck and shoulder.
Its an angry slash: three, possibly four, inches long and possibly a half-inch deep. The blade had sunk near the juncture of her neck and shoulder; it missed the artery by scant centimeters.
Guilt assails him. He's supposed to keep his distance; he wasn't even supposed to be on this mission tonight... He was a last minute substitution for Bart, who had been sent elsewhere. Fingers shake as he unwinds gauze. Green eyes settle on the blood that stains her shoulder; the surrounding skin is pale—so unlike her tanned tone.
A lump lodges in his throat as he struggles to cut the gauze. Flashes of her deceased, prone form, cold to the touch as he grabs for her—...
Shuddering, he gives himself a solid shake; tugging at the gauze, he separates the unwound fabric from the roll and places the remainder back in its compartment on his suit. Expression grim but determined, he begins to wrap the material around her neck. His voice is thick with subdued emotion when he speaks, "Apply some pressure to it."
She begins to mouth off, demanding just why he took her from the fight again.
Frustration quickly overshadows his remorse. Whatever protests she has to his aid, he silences with a kiss. All of his worry for her safety and the added pressure of remembering her 'death' prompt him to grab her tightly; he pulls her against him, noses colliding as his lips roughly mash with hers.
Gradually his grip lessens; touch gentling, he cradles the back of her head, his other arm clutching her to him as desperation drives him. His tongue glides along the seam of her lips attempting to deepen the kiss. She's resistant.
Briefly, he pulls away, his words a strained whisper, "Artemis, shut up and kiss me. Please." The tip of his nose skims along hers; without awaiting an answer, he hopes she can glean just how worried he'd been for her. Trailing kisses along her jawline, he places his lips to hers again. Another glide of his tongue along her mouth, and he's pleased at her surprised gasp.
Losing himself in the moment, he slips his tongue into her mouth while holding her against him as tenderly as possible. The arm along her middle loosens; greedy fingers tangle with her long, golden strands as he angles her head. A helpless groan escapes him as he basks in her.
For now, he allows himself to enjoy this. Later, when reality comes crashing down, he can take greater steps to distance himself again, but for now? He needs this. He needs her.
𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 & 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 ! ⚡ accepting!
