YJ Fic | to answer your question
TITLE: To Answer Your Question
CHARACTERS: Wally West, Artemis Crock
PAIRINGS: Spitfire
NOTES: Anonymous asked you: Spitfire, farce; Takes place right after Auld Acquaintance.
Her fingers are grazing along the cool surface of stone that line the walls of the cave as she sinks deeper and deeper into the dimly lit corridor. She had made it this far with some crummy excuse that she was sure sounded exactly like her, distant and calculating. And maybe that was all she was, and that was all she would ever amount in being, but it got her this far. The excuses and the distance was what really helped her make it on this team, and maybe she was able to be happy just observing safely from afar. With observation you don’t get hurt. You don’t get close, and it’s not like your heart has to ache when you can’t have someone or they are taken away. Things are always safer away from her grasp anyway. Things don’t end up marred and unrecognizable when they are safely out of her hands. She was a daughter of the night, of the shadow, and maybe she should stay there.
But she is stupid. She’s too close. She got to close to him, and let him entangle her in his arms and hoist her up higher than the stratosphere and she made the mistake of liking it, loving it. She’s still high from it all, the view, the look, the taste of his lips on hers. Her fingers are quivering, and she’ll think of every good reason as to why this was the worst idea in the world. She should have just stopped him before he could do anything to her, before he could put her under such a horrible spell. The boy of science casting a spell on her almost sounds ridiculous, but the thought is bouncing so gently along the walls of her mind that she has no choice but to accept it. Her lip is twitching.
Her dulled senses begin to focus as her trained ears pick up the sounds of whipping wind. She removes her grip on the wall and stands as straight and as proud as she can muster. She refuses to let him see her any other way.
There’s a blur, and in an instant curious apple green eyes are staring intently at her. She appreciates how they reflect so much in just a passing glance, it’s so him. It makes sense that he’d be the one chasing after her now. She really hopes she squashes that need before it gets worse and festers and becomes a habit. She’ll run if that happens. She can’t handle attachment. Attachment hurt.
“Well, Kid Mouth, are you going to say anything or are you going to keep gawking?” Her mind is focused on retreating, but her legs are planted so firmly, and she really has to wonder what she’s expecting or looking for from him. What could he possibly offer her that has her so rooted and waiting for anything that could tumble from his lips?
He’s shaken a bit by her words, and she can see the tension in his arm as he brings it to rest comfortably behind his head in an apologetic manner.
“Is gawking wrong of me now?” And she kind of wants to hit him for saying something so right even though she knows it’s so wrong.
“Yeah, it’s kind of rude if you weren’t aware,” she says while turning on her heel. It was time to leave, her heart was moving a little too fast for her to keep up with.
He’s got her in his grasp so surely with his thumb stroking the inside hollow of her wrist before she can even plan an escape route.
“Wait, we need to talk,” he says while licking his chapped lips, or at least she imagines that they are still as chapped as they were when her lips were on his. It wasn’t that many hours since then.
He’s guiding her back, and she’s letting him reel her in so easily.
“Why?” she asks, and he looks confused to the point where she finds it necessary to bite her own tongue.
His hands find her shoulders, and she’s not all that sure whether he’s squeezing because he’s trying to reassure her or himself that this is real and that it is worth answering. He’s sinking his head a little lower until his breath is hot against her upper lip, and they are his, her lips captured in his. She likes it as much as she hates to admit it, telling simply by the way her fingers are swirling into the dull grey of his costume. It’s all warm, and it’s clouding her judgment. She should be running to the point of blearing, till she couldn’t make sense of colors or shapes like she remembered when he was running with her in his arms. And that’s when she knows she can’t escape it. She can’t pretend that she doesn’t want this as badly as she does.
She’s tearing her lips away from his, and he’s content with just resting his forehead against hers with that cocky grin of his.
“Because I kind of want to make sure we can keep doing that.”
His fingers are brushing through the tangled mess of her ponytail, and she can’t focus on the tugging it is doing to her scalp because she’s confused by his words. What were they even talking about?
“You know, to answer your question?”
She shakes her head in understanding. “Oh.”
She forgets to be scared now as long as she’s this close.
CHARACTERS: Wally West, Artemis Crock
PAIRINGS: Spitfire
NOTES: Anonymous asked you: Spitfire, farce; Takes place right after Auld Acquaintance.
Her fingers are grazing along the cool surface of stone that line the walls of the cave as she sinks deeper and deeper into the dimly lit corridor. She had made it this far with some crummy excuse that she was sure sounded exactly like her, distant and calculating. And maybe that was all she was, and that was all she would ever amount in being, but it got her this far. The excuses and the distance was what really helped her make it on this team, and maybe she was able to be happy just observing safely from afar. With observation you don’t get hurt. You don’t get close, and it’s not like your heart has to ache when you can’t have someone or they are taken away. Things are always safer away from her grasp anyway. Things don’t end up marred and unrecognizable when they are safely out of her hands. She was a daughter of the night, of the shadow, and maybe she should stay there.
But she is stupid. She’s too close. She got to close to him, and let him entangle her in his arms and hoist her up higher than the stratosphere and she made the mistake of liking it, loving it. She’s still high from it all, the view, the look, the taste of his lips on hers. Her fingers are quivering, and she’ll think of every good reason as to why this was the worst idea in the world. She should have just stopped him before he could do anything to her, before he could put her under such a horrible spell. The boy of science casting a spell on her almost sounds ridiculous, but the thought is bouncing so gently along the walls of her mind that she has no choice but to accept it. Her lip is twitching.
Her dulled senses begin to focus as her trained ears pick up the sounds of whipping wind. She removes her grip on the wall and stands as straight and as proud as she can muster. She refuses to let him see her any other way.
There’s a blur, and in an instant curious apple green eyes are staring intently at her. She appreciates how they reflect so much in just a passing glance, it’s so him. It makes sense that he’d be the one chasing after her now. She really hopes she squashes that need before it gets worse and festers and becomes a habit. She’ll run if that happens. She can’t handle attachment. Attachment hurt.
“Well, Kid Mouth, are you going to say anything or are you going to keep gawking?” Her mind is focused on retreating, but her legs are planted so firmly, and she really has to wonder what she’s expecting or looking for from him. What could he possibly offer her that has her so rooted and waiting for anything that could tumble from his lips?
He’s shaken a bit by her words, and she can see the tension in his arm as he brings it to rest comfortably behind his head in an apologetic manner.
“Is gawking wrong of me now?” And she kind of wants to hit him for saying something so right even though she knows it’s so wrong.
“Yeah, it’s kind of rude if you weren’t aware,” she says while turning on her heel. It was time to leave, her heart was moving a little too fast for her to keep up with.
He’s got her in his grasp so surely with his thumb stroking the inside hollow of her wrist before she can even plan an escape route.
“Wait, we need to talk,” he says while licking his chapped lips, or at least she imagines that they are still as chapped as they were when her lips were on his. It wasn’t that many hours since then.
He’s guiding her back, and she’s letting him reel her in so easily.
“Why?” she asks, and he looks confused to the point where she finds it necessary to bite her own tongue.
His hands find her shoulders, and she’s not all that sure whether he’s squeezing because he’s trying to reassure her or himself that this is real and that it is worth answering. He’s sinking his head a little lower until his breath is hot against her upper lip, and they are his, her lips captured in his. She likes it as much as she hates to admit it, telling simply by the way her fingers are swirling into the dull grey of his costume. It’s all warm, and it’s clouding her judgment. She should be running to the point of blearing, till she couldn’t make sense of colors or shapes like she remembered when he was running with her in his arms. And that’s when she knows she can’t escape it. She can’t pretend that she doesn’t want this as badly as she does.
She’s tearing her lips away from his, and he’s content with just resting his forehead against hers with that cocky grin of his.
“Because I kind of want to make sure we can keep doing that.”
His fingers are brushing through the tangled mess of her ponytail, and she can’t focus on the tugging it is doing to her scalp because she’s confused by his words. What were they even talking about?
“You know, to answer your question?”
She shakes her head in understanding. “Oh.”
She forgets to be scared now as long as she’s this close.