---- From chapter 38, Text Me Back ----

W: Okay so James, Hartley, and I went to the convenience store and as we were walking we passed a flyer for catholic school and James went "Wally you better shape up or we're sending you to catholic school" and without looking up from his phone Hartley goes "scared straight" and James and I laughed so hard we tripped over each other and fell into a puddle

----

Barry ruffled Wally's hair one last time before picking up his suitcase and carrying it to the waiting car in the drive way. Iris leaned down to peck him on the cheek, her long red hair tickling his skin, before she too dragged her suitcase to the car. Wally followed her a step behind, catching up to her easily and taking the heavy bag from her, handing it off to Barry to pack into the trunk.

"Thanks, Wally," Iris said, her light voice as melodic and motherly as ever, as she slid into the drivers seat of the car.

"Behave, and don't forget to water the plants," Barry told him for probably the hundredth time, then "and, don't do anything too dangerous. Stick to bank robberies and muggings, okay? Leave the super-villains till I get back."

Wally huffed, rolling his eyes and hurrying the man into the car, mumbling, "yeah, yeah- I know," and just like that Barry and Iris departed for their trip to Coast City.

Wally stood in the driveway for a long minute, feeling the sun wash over and warm his skin, and the soft autumn air ruffle his hair. The sun was still high in the sky, but everything was cast in a soft golden glow, as if it were early evening. It had rained all through the night, and he could tell from the smell of the air alone that it was going to rain again, despite the current lack of clouds.

It could have been that he had been spending so much time in Gotham, but the Central City sun seemed even more perfect than usual. Wally gave a little sigh of pleasure, the sun doing nothing short of melting the tension out of his shoulders in a way that could otherwise only be achieved by one of Dick's long massages.

The twenty-year-old's phone rang three times before he really registered the sound, and he reached for it in his pocket only to remember he'd left it on the coffee table inside. He dashed inside- at a normal, human speed- through the still-open red front door, answering the call at the last ring.

He didn't have time to read the caller ID, and there was a moment where he wondered if it was Barry calling to remind him of something else he already knew he had to do while house-sitting, and decided he would hang-up if it was.

It wasn't, and he realized that the second he heard the voice on the other end, talking before Wally could even say hello, "Hiya, you've reached the house of unrecognized talent, how can I help you?"

He rolled his eyes at James's antics, pointing out, "you called me," with a little huff of laughter.

"I know, but I've always wanted to say that," James said easily, as if it were obvious.

Wally was about to ask what the nineteen-year-old wanted, when a few soft notes cackled through the connection. James went silent too, both of them listening to the distant melody of Hartley's flute, drifting from where he'd holed himself up in the Rouges base.

Wally moved quietly on his end, closing the front door and wandering into the kitchen, filling up a glass with water and taking a short sip before lightly tipping the glass into one of the small plants set on the windowsill. The music grew a little louder, and Wally smiled at the image of James searching every nook and cranny to find his boyfriends hiding spot.

Wally considered heading over to the Rouges base, but had a feeling the couple was planning on inviting him out anyway. They did that every few days. He figured they were concerned about him, which was justified, considering his unrequited feelings for Dick were tearing him apart inside, but he didn't like making his friends worry. Not about something he should be over by now.

The music on the other end stopped abruptly, and there were the sounds of James whining and trying to convince Hartley to go back to playing. Wally snapped to attention, realizing he'd been watering the same plant for far too long and the water was a few drops away from over-flowing.

"Wally," was said, too loudly, into the phone, and James sounded short of breath, probably from wrestling with Hartley. Wally really hoped he remember to hang up before they started making out.

"Barry has officially left city limits, so we'll be over in like an hour to kidnap you," Wally bit down on a smile, realizing for the first time just how much he had missed his friends.

There was a muffled sound on the other side, and James spoken again in a breathless, low voice, "make that two-" he swallowed a lewd sound, "okay; three." and he'd barely finished speaking before Wally hung up on him.

He took it back. He hated his friends.

----

James and Hartley didn't show up until sundown- four hours after Wally hung up on them- and Wally had gotten comfortable in the time it took them. He watched Spirited Away, watered the rest of the plants, moped in his love-sick sorrow, and got about half way through Act IV of Romeo and Juliet before Hartley nothing short of kicked the door in, James trailing in behind him with a half-dimpled smile.

"It was locked," Hartley said, with a half shrug and a 'what else was I supposed to do?' expression at Wally's incredulous look.

Wally sent a 'you could have knocked,' mock-glare back, knowing that Hartley had had a lot of practice interpreting looks and would know what he meant exactly.

He was so focused on his silent conversation with the older that he totally missed what James was doing until his book was lifted from his hands. He made a noise of protest in the back of his throat, hands following the book, but James kept it out of his reach, stepping up onto the coffee table when Wally stood up. He threw it to Hartley when Wally got too close, and Hartley caught it with the fluency of someone who was far too used to James randomly throwing things at him.

They played keep-away for awhile, the living room turning into a battle ground, and at some point Wally started using his speed, but it didn't make a difference. James and Hartley had way too much experience fighting speedsters to fall victim to Wally's fast movements.

He knew they wouldn't give him the book back- they knew he only brought it out when he was feeling melancholic and held-up on his feelings for Dick- and at some point he forgot about it all together, caught up in messing around, until he fell back on the couch with a gentle smile.

"You got any food in this place?" James voice echoed from the kitchen, and Wally looked around the living room, realizing for the first time that James had disappeared half-way through their game of keep-away. He'd thought the younger had been hiding out, scheming, but maybe he was just raiding the kitchen.

"Nothing but Iris's hyper-healthy frozen leftovers and bread," he called back, remembering on the forth word to work his hands to sign what he was saying. He was acutely aware of Iris's overly balanced cooking habits. There wasn't anything with a sugar count higher than twelve in the house. It was one of the main motivations that kept him going in his hunt for an apartment a few months ago, and now he just felt bad for Barry, who still had to live under her watchful eye.

Wally's eyes had slid shut while he was talking, comfortable for the first time in weeks in the presence of his friends, but he opened them slightly to look at Hartley from under his eyelashes when the older lifted him off the couch with a hand griped and twisted in the front of his shirt. He glance left and right without moving his head, then back at Hartley, impressed that the twenty-three-year-old had the strength to lift him with just one arm. He wondered if he'd been working out more than usual.

Hartley was giving him a serious look. He shook Wally a little when his seriousness wasn't returned, "Wally! You can't stay here all week! You'll starve!"

It had been awhile since he'd heard Hartley so concerned and sincere, and he lifted a single eyebrow. He made sure to pronounce just enough that Hartley- who he knew preferred to be able to read lips as a back-up even when he had his hearing aids- had an easy time of seeing what he was saying, "I know, I-" was planning on ordering out every night and hiding the evidence, was what he was going to say, but he was interrupted by James.

James shushed him lightly, with wide, tearful eyes, probably traumatized from his time spent in the kitchen. And yet, all he could think about was Wally. He had such good friends.

"Its okay, Walls," James said softly, threading his fingers gently through Wally's tousled hair. "We'll feed you. It'll be okay."

Wally found he was strangely reassured by this, and honestly he could go for food.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Hartley was already dragging him out of the house and into the night, still managing to lift him a few inches off the ground, as if he might try to escape. It took quiet a bit of convincing and a few concerned looks from people in the street, probably on their way home from whatever dead-end job they had signed their soul away for, before Wally's feet finally reunited with the ground.

They didn't go out to eat often, mostly because James and Hartley were criminals and could never resist the temptation of a good ol' dine and ditch, either leaving Wally behind to deal with the consequences or dragging him down with them in their acts of casual law-breaking. And none of them were really dressed to be out in public, Hartley with his long copper hair thrown up in a messy bun, James with very obvious hickeys creeping up the side of his neck and under the collar of his shirt. Wally with his sun-deprived complexion and constant checking of his phone just in case.

They went out anyway, to a small Chinese place on Richland Ave that would let them in, despite James attempts to convince them they should just con their way into a high-end place, and Wally made sure to sit on the outside of the booth so that James was trapped. It started raining again while they ate, but by the time they'd finished, paid-  "Wally, your good at math, whats 36 divided by 3 with 15% tip?" "um-" "Just let me pay the whole bill-" "No!" "This would be so much simpler if we just ditched"- and ducked back out into the streets, it was nearing ten o'clock and the skies had cleared, leaving behind a warm, damp city.

Their conversation from dinner continued as they walked backed to Barry's place, with James tattling to Hartley as if he wasn't also hearing Wally talk, "He's slamming the game again..."

"I noticed," Hartley nodded, turning around and walking just as smoothly backwards as he had been forwards so that he could properly address Wally. Looking up from his phone, he pocketed the device- having thrown it one too many times while signing that he'd learnt his lesson- "You don't like baseball? What planet are you from?"

Gotham and Metropolis had football- the Gotham Knights vs Metropolis Meteors game caused chaos and nothing short of riots every year, millions of dollars moved in gambling- but Central had baseball. 

"I know, I know," Wally pursed his lips, "I'm a capitalist, a book burner, and I kick dogs. I just can't sit through baseball. It moves so slow!"

James rolled his eyes, snuggled up to Wally, basically hanging off his arm, and walking sideways on his tip-toes to be tall enough to nuzzle against Wally's neck with a lopsided grin, "Oooh baby, whine for me. It's so sexy..."

Hartley scoffed, in a mocking deadpan, "Everything moves slowly for you, Walls. Have pity on us mortal snails," he looked down at his phone again, still walking backwards in front of them, unfazed by the uneven tar of the road.

They shouldn't be walking in the middle of the road, but they'd turned off the main city-streets awhile ago and the hot, wet night was empty around them. They could have been in the smallest town in the country for all the rest of the world cared.

They kept walking through the deserted street with James hanging off him, their hands laced together, and Hartley never once looked bothered by it. He never did, and James didn't either, they just let each other be close with Wally. He wanted that, longed for that trust. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, trying not to be jealous of his friend's relationship. He had Dick and he had Roy, and just because he wasn't dating either of them didn't mean they didn't have the same level of trust that existed between James and Hartley.

He could feel James pull back a little, scanning his face, and making to move away, but Wally tightened his grip on the others hand before he could. It wasn't James's fault, and he just needed his friends close right now.

James didn't try and pull away again, just leaned closer to Wally and turned his heavy, worried gaze away from Wally, instead scanned the street around them.

They were passing a 24/7 convenience store, the large glass windows lit up from inside and seeming so much bigger than they actually were. They turned and entered the store without really thinking.

James spent far too long trying to decide which flavor of energy drink he wanted, but Wally couldn't complain because he spent just as long choosing between chocolate bars, both of them snapping "they're not all the same!" at Hartley at some point. Hartley rolled his eyes, and grabbed a random box of candy from the shelves as if it didn't even matter.

Hartley basically preened when the cashier asked him for his ID before letting him buy cigarettes, and then it was James's turn to roll his eyes.

The sound of the automatic door sliding open with a little jingle reminded Wally of every anime he's ever watched, and it started raining again almost the second they stepped outside. The cashier inside gave them a deadly look, so rather than go back into the strongly air-conditioned convince store, they crossed the street and loitered under the awning of the nearest building, which turned out turned out to be in front of a real estate agency.

The first thing Hartley did was tear into his new box of cigarettes and light one, tipping his head back against the dark glass windows of the building. It was the same brand Roy smoked, Wally observed dully, wondering if he should introduce the two of them. Roy always was complaining about not having any friends his own age.

"Hey, Hart," Wally tipped his chin in Hartley's direction, causing the other to look at him, "have you ever heard of Roy Harper?"

Wally was about to go into a long spiel about how great Roy was and why Hartley should definitely hang out with him and "I can give you his number, if you want," when Hartley spoke.

"Yeah, I slept with him a few times like two years ago." A pause. "I was his music theory professor. Actually, I'm pretty sure he stole the answers to the final exam."

Wally blinked, and suddenly felt a little light headed, "I'm sorry," he said slowly. Maybe he'd misheard. "You what?"

James broke into uncontrollable giggles at Wally's expense, and Hartley shrugged instead of saying whatever he was about to say, all his focus suddenly zeroed in on James, "What are you laughing about?"

"Other than the obvious?" James echoed, only adding to Wally's misery, and he held up a paper Wally vaguely remembered him tearing off the window of the convenience store where it had been plastered.

Wally had to squint in the lack of light to read what was printed on it, but he got the gist of it when James, in the mock-serious deep voice of a parent said, "Wally, you better shape up or we're sending you to catholic school."

Hartley didn't miss a beat, and said, "Scared straight," in such a deadpan voice that Wally forgot all about his world being suddenly and jarringly ripped out from under him and laughed so hard he had to cling to James for support.

The problem was, James was laughing too, and within seconds the two of them went from safe from the rain under the awning to collapsed in a heap in a puddle on the ground in the middle of the street.

Neither of them even tried to get up, just laid on the hard section tarmac in the middle of the street that they had staggered to, still chuckling and gasping for breath. Wally felt the water pooled beneath them soak into his clothes and hair, but he really couldn't care less. His laughter settled in his chest and soon he and James were ganging up on Hartley, nagging at him until he caved and joined them in the shallow water.

Wally closed his eyes to the feeling of the last few raindrops landing on his skin. It had to have been after midnight, and he was starting to feel the affects of his recent lack of sleep. It was hard to tell time in Gotham when you hadn't grown up there; the "shades of gray" in the clouds that everyone talked about all looked the same and night and day bled together. No wonder no one in Gotham got enough sleep.

He felt James's hand in his own, and easily laced their fingers together, knowing Hartley was doing the same on James's other side, and felt a little guilty for pretending it was Dick's hand instead.

The little drop of guilt wasn't enough to disrupt his peaceful mood, even as he promised to text Dick later, when they got home, and his thoughts started to fade out as he drew closer to sleep.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, with a sudden spark of energy, "Hey, wait! Hartley! You never answered my question about Roy!"

He'd come out to have a good time, but now he could feel reality crumbling around him, echoing in the silence of Hartley's lack of answer.