Doing the ‘seeing if he melts into the kiss’ trend with Wally and the man is clueless but he has all the enthusiasm!
“But why are you setting your phone up?”
You glare at him as you prop it up and press record.
“Wally, do what I say no questions.”
You have no doubt that Wally’s going to melt into the kiss, he’s kissed you the same, all consuming, mind numbing way since you’d gotten together four years ago.
He salutes and you chuckle, watching his freckled cheeks pudge up under his eyes.
“Okay, now stretch your arms up,” he does as you do, arms over his head and when you lean up his body immediately bows to meet you.
“You smell nice,” he whispers, nose brushing yours as you lock your arms around his neck.
“You’re such a suck up,” you whisper back, aware that the camera’s picking up all your commentary.
You lean in slowly, nose nudging his before your lips press into his. Almost immediately his arms wrap around you, the palms falling to your bum and pulls you closer.
You were right; Wally’s kisses have never changed. You don’t want them to.
When his hands get a little too grabby you pull back, your smile unstoppable. “You’re such a sucker.”
He chuckles, smoothing kisses up your jaw. “Sucker for you and wound tight around your finger, wouldn’t have it any other way.”
When you post the video later that night, he rushes in as the comment section is flooded:
user128539: he’s so whipped.
speedster6969: he’s right where he wants to be and I love that for her
justicegangfan: walk him like a dog, he clearly loves it
He’s wearing matching Wicked pajamas as he nuzzles his nose into your face; “I could be even more whipped. I could be so whipped they’d mistake me for whipped cream.”
You laugh and shove his face away from you, “You’re such a dork, Wallace.”
He blows a raspberry, “You love me back just as much,” he kisses you as soon as he notices the mischievous look in your eye.
Young Justice has always been more than a show. It’s a reminder of who we were, who we became, and who we’re still trying to be.
Every character carries a lesson cleverness, strength, joy, rebellion, kindness, heart. They grew, they stumbled, they healed, and they kept going. And somehow, we grew with them.
Maybe that’s why YJ stays with us. Not just as nostalgia, but as a story about identity, courage, and the bonds that shape us forever.
genre: bittersweet angst | slow dance | the one that got away trope-ish | the other women trope-ish if you squint | sad ending
song: Flash – Cigarettes After Sex the song gave me inspo for this so i recommend listening to it while reading! also the lyrics are not in order💔💔 ik im sorry but i really wanted it to sort of make sense in the scene!
⸻
The room was alive with laughter, but none of it touched you.
M’gann had somehow managed to hang fairy lights in impossible places; Conner stood at the food table, pretending to understand human snacks; Artemis was rolling her eyes at Dick’s bad jokes. Everyone was happy — glowing after the mission.
Everyone except you.
You stood by the far wall, your back pressed to it, pretending to scroll through your phone. You didn’t need to look up to know he was watching you. You could feel him. The air changed when he entered — warmer, lighter, always moving.
Wally West.
And tonight, you already knew.
He’d told you before the mission. Quietly. Just the two of you in the hallway outside the mission room. He’d smiled that soft, apologetic smile and said, “Artemis and I… we’re thinking about leaving the hero gig. For a while.”
You hadn’t said much then. Just nodded, said “cool,” walked off like your lungs weren’t collapsing.
Now he was here — laughing with Dick, but looking at you.
You hated that look. It was soft. Too soft. Like the goodbye had already started.
You looked away.
Then the song changed.
It’s like you disappeared into the dark…
It was faint at first, just a low hum beneath the laughter. Then it grew — the familiar dreamy echo, the same one from years ago.
You froze.
Wally did too.
“I'm a flash. You were blinded by the love I had”
Your heart dropped because you both knew this song. That song.
Halloween, years ago. You’d both been sixteen. You were supposed to go with someone else, but your date had decided to show up with another girl. You’d been sitting at the edge of the gym floor in your costume — black dress, too much glitter — pretending you didn’t care.
Wally had shown up late, hair still a mess from patrol, claiming he “forgot” his mask. No date. Just him. You’d rolled your eyes, said, “Don’t you have better things to do than crash my misery?”
He’d grinned. “Nope. You look too good to sit alone.”
And then — this song started playing.
He’d offered you a hand. You’d said, “I hate you.”
He’d said, “I know.”
You danced anyway.
You remembered laughing at the irony back then — a song called Flash. You’d spun, he’d smiled, and neither of you noticed that the whole world had slowed down.
You’d told yourself it was just a dance.
He’d told himself it wasn’t.
And now, years later, in the same base where everything started and ended, it played again.
“And I know that you love me, I know you don’t care…”
You felt him before you saw him — the familiar warmth at your side, the brush of air that made the fairy lights flicker.
He stood beside you, quiet for once.
Neither of you spoke.
Then, softly —
“Déjà vu, huh?”
Your throat tightened. “You remember.”
“How could I forget?” he said, eyes flicking toward the center of the room. “That song… that dance…” He paused. “You were mad at me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You said you hated me.”
You swallowed hard. “I lied.”
He smiled, soft and sad. “Yeah. Me too.”
The words hovered between you — heavier than any mission, sharper than any wound.
Then he said it, gentle: “Dance with me?”
You shook your head, eyes already stinging. “Don’t do this, Wally.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know what comes next.”
He stepped closer, his voice barely above the music. “Then let’s make this part good.”
“The light could only get in through the cracks”
His hand brushed yours. You didn’t pull away. He guided you to the open space near the lights, his touch trembling.
You moved together like you were trying not to wake the world. His hand rested at your waist, your fingers looping loosely behind his neck.
He smiled faintly. “Remember what I said at the dance?”
You nodded. “You said I looked too good to sit alone.”
“Still true,” he whispered.
Your chest ached. “Don’t say things like that if you’re leaving.”
His grip tightened. “If I don’t say them now, I never will.”
“Tell me everything you want, tell me everything you need…”
You stared at him — that stupid, beautiful boy who talked too much, ate too fast, loved too deeply. You wanted to say stay. You wanted to ask why now? why her? why leave me like this?
Instead, you just said, “You’re really doing it, aren’t you?”
He didn’t nod. Didn’t speak.
But his eyes — they answered.
That was worse than any goodbye.
You looked away, but he caught your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Hey,” he whispered, “it’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“I know.”
“And a voice in my head's causing suicide searching for any way To remember them”
Your voice shook. “You know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“You told me before the mission,” you said, blinking fast. “And I thought — maybe you’d change your mind. Maybe you’d stay for the team. For… me? But you didn’t.”
He exhaled, forehead resting against yours. “If I stay, I break the promise I made to her. If I go, I break the one I never said to you.”
“When they crash the helicopters in my heart it ripped”
You bit your lip, tears spilling over. “Coward.”
He smiled, soft and broken. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
He pulled you closer, holding you like he was trying to memorize your shape.
Neither of you spoke again until the song began to fade.
You are my flash, my lightning strike… I see you in everything, even when you’re gone…
He kissed your forehead — not like a friend, not like a goodbye, but like both.
And then he whispered, just for you:
“For the best.”
⸻
the next morning
The halls were too quiet.
Artemis’s laughter was gone.
His energy — that constant, rushing heartbeat — gone too.
You walked into the common room. The lights were still dim, the empty cups and streamers from last night untouched. The radio was still on.
And there it was — the same song.
Only this time, it was the end of it.
The lyric you’d never really noticed before, humming through the speakers like an echo straight to your chest:
And you had to do the right thing. Do the right thing baby
Your knees almost gave out.
Because he had.
And you hated that he had.
You stood there, letting the song play out, wishing you could rewind time to that first Halloween dance — when Flash was a love song, not a goodbye. When you still had a 50–50 chance.
Now? It was zero.
But as the song faded into silence, you whispered it anyway —
(or: Young Justice accidentally becomes staff at a cosmic nap-time daycare)
So. Fun fact no one warned Danny about when he became half-ghost:
He can stay awake for ages—literally, weeks or months with zero sleep.
But when the tired hits?
He drops into a supernatural coma for 1,000–3,000 years.
Yes. Years.
Clockwork confirmed it. Ran the math. Cackled. It was a whole thing.
The cause?
Well… Danny once slammed the Time Medallion directly into his core. (Long story, lots of screaming, very “bad decisions speedrun.”)
His still-developing core went, “Oooh shiny snack” and absorbed the temporal energy.
Now his ice core is part-time Time God.
Side Effects:
• Danny is basically immune to time shenanigans
• His powers turbo-charged
• His body now needs Ancient-Eldritch Reset Cycles
But Danny? He’s stubborn. He refuses to “sleep through” multiple human civilizations.
So he and Clockwork jury-rig a solution:
Clockwork shoves him into a dimension with funky time physics.
Danny gets a cozy apocalypse-proof bunker filled with eternal pillows, enchanted blankets, the whole sleep-paralysis-chic aesthetic.
And they… hire Pariah Dark’s Skeleton Legion as caretakers.
Surprisingly excellent at the job.
They dust. They tidy. They protect. They set out snacks.
It’s all very “undead butler” vibes.
Unfortunately… the locals eventually stumble upon the sacred nap chamber.
Instant cult formation.
They cut a hole into the ceiling to drop offerings.
The Skeleton Legion allows it because the offerings help with upkeep.
Everyone’s happy.
Until the cult decides to chuck Bart Allen down the hole.
Right onto Danny’s bed.
Supposed sacrifice. Also an attempt at a living alarm clock.
When Wally shows up to rescue Bart, he finds:
Danny—deep in cosmic hibernation—clutching Bart like a comfort plushie
And the Skeleton Legion attempting to gently, reverently, pry Bart free.
Wally: “…Uh??”
Bart: “I think they’re trying not to distress the Cuddle Deity???”
Wally: “Just phase out.”
Bart: “What if he wakes up and IMPRINTS?? I need a SUBSTITUTE SNUGGLE ITEM.”
Cue Wally zip-running across continents to gather armloads of giant plushies.
Danny rejects every single one.
Meanwhile, Bart’s having a shockingly nice time:
The Skeletons feed him like a beloved house cat.
The cult dropped video games.
The bed is one of the softest surfaces known to mortals.
He texts Young Justice for backup.
That’s when everything spirals.
The team vows to find a stuffed animal worthy of replacing Bart.
They fail.
Catastrophically.
Eventually, they institute the Cuddle Rotation:
Each member takes turns being Danny’s designated snuggle-stand-in.
They bring a TV.
Weights.
Homework.
Half-built gadgets.
Snacks that should not be legally classified as food.
Danny’s sacred nap chamber becomes Young Justice’s unofficial off-world hideout.
And then one morning… Danny just gets up.
No holy light.
No cosmic chanting.
Just a very grumpy, very bed-headed eldritch teen shuffling toward the smell of coffee.
The YJ member on cuddle-duty is passed out beside him.
Danny carefully detaches himself, pads into the makeshift kitchen, and is handed a mug before anyone processes events.
They chat for like ten minutes.
Then someone freezes mid-sentence.
“WAIT—
You’re awake?!
You’re NOT supposed to be conscious!”
Danny, deadpan, sipping coffee:
“Why is my bedroom a teenage superhero crash pad?”
