Fic: Fashion Police, JLA Toonverse, John/Wally, PG-13, 1/1
John’s been doing his best to keep from thinking about Wally ‘like that.’ It’s too weird. What’s even weirder is that his best is about to be done in…by Wally’s shirt.
Fashion Police
It was the T-shirt that finally did him in.
John had been harboring a weirdly intense attraction-type…thing…for Wally for some time now. He’d long ago decided that he would be better off shoving thoughts like that as far from his mind as possible, and trying to keep his friendship with the speedster from completely taking over every corner of his life.
He wasn’t sure he was succeeding, but marines never say die - even if they should.
He didn’t bother to think much about rethinking his decision because contemplating Wally and romance at the same time tended to lead to oddly insane occurrences on his part, such as offering to let Wally sleep on his couch while his apartment was being fumigated, needlessly rescuing him from Gorilla Grodd, and defending his taste in music to Diana.
Though, really, Simple Plan wasn’t that bad. The mind-numbing background music was at least loud enough to drown out the insipid, typical-teen-anger-and-angst words. It was also markedly better than the time when Wally had fallen in love with the song Tubthumping and proceeded to blare it at top volume for two solid weeks.
At any rate, John had been doing a pretty good job of keeping his feelings for Wally from interfering with his day-to-day life - and their JLA careers - when three events occurred simultaneously.
1: The Weather Wizard broke out of jail and decided to get his revenge on The Flash.
2: Wally decided to do all of his laundry at once.
3: The Weather Wizard ended up battling The Flash right outside the Laundromat that Wally West used. The casualties? Every single washer and dryer that Wally was in the midst of using.
If even one of those things hadn’t happened? Wally would have shown up at the JLA Watchtower to relieve Green Lantern from his shift on monitor duty wearing his regular red and gold uniform.
But they had happened, which is why Wally showed up wearing ratty brown sandals with no socks - John was disturbed both by the fact that Wally apparently gave himself pedicures (if the perfectly filed toenails were any evidence), and by the fact that he found Wally’s feet sexy - and a pair of faded, threadbare jeans with enough holes scattered around them that John was certain he wasn’t wearing underwear, and a T-shirt two sizes too small.
Though even that wouldn’t have been enough to strain John’s vaunted self-control; except that, emblazoned across Wally’s chest was the slogan: If we are what we eat, I’m fast, cheap, and easy.
John never had a chance.
Two point five seconds after Wally strolled into the monitor womb, John had alerted Oracle that a substitute was needed for the next shift, done a mental inventory of his bedside table to figure out if his ‘just in case’ supply of condoms and lube would be enough to get them through the weekend (considering Wally’s infamous metabolism, probably not) - the Watchtower was continually restocked with enough food to feed an army (or one speedster) - and had pounced, simultaneously shoving a dollar into Wally’s pants and purring, “Love the truth in advertising, stud,” before devouring those mochaccino-flavored lips with a speed that would have made their owner jealous - if he hadn’t been too turned on to care.
The T-shirt that started it all, sadly, became a casualty of their tryst. It went down in flames - flames caused by friction involved with Wally’s run for his bedroom.
Fashion Police
It was the T-shirt that finally did him in.
John had been harboring a weirdly intense attraction-type…thing…for Wally for some time now. He’d long ago decided that he would be better off shoving thoughts like that as far from his mind as possible, and trying to keep his friendship with the speedster from completely taking over every corner of his life.
He wasn’t sure he was succeeding, but marines never say die - even if they should.
He didn’t bother to think much about rethinking his decision because contemplating Wally and romance at the same time tended to lead to oddly insane occurrences on his part, such as offering to let Wally sleep on his couch while his apartment was being fumigated, needlessly rescuing him from Gorilla Grodd, and defending his taste in music to Diana.
Though, really, Simple Plan wasn’t that bad. The mind-numbing background music was at least loud enough to drown out the insipid, typical-teen-anger-and-angst words. It was also markedly better than the time when Wally had fallen in love with the song Tubthumping and proceeded to blare it at top volume for two solid weeks.
At any rate, John had been doing a pretty good job of keeping his feelings for Wally from interfering with his day-to-day life - and their JLA careers - when three events occurred simultaneously.
1: The Weather Wizard broke out of jail and decided to get his revenge on The Flash.
2: Wally decided to do all of his laundry at once.
3: The Weather Wizard ended up battling The Flash right outside the Laundromat that Wally West used. The casualties? Every single washer and dryer that Wally was in the midst of using.
If even one of those things hadn’t happened? Wally would have shown up at the JLA Watchtower to relieve Green Lantern from his shift on monitor duty wearing his regular red and gold uniform.
But they had happened, which is why Wally showed up wearing ratty brown sandals with no socks - John was disturbed both by the fact that Wally apparently gave himself pedicures (if the perfectly filed toenails were any evidence), and by the fact that he found Wally’s feet sexy - and a pair of faded, threadbare jeans with enough holes scattered around them that John was certain he wasn’t wearing underwear, and a T-shirt two sizes too small.
Though even that wouldn’t have been enough to strain John’s vaunted self-control; except that, emblazoned across Wally’s chest was the slogan: If we are what we eat, I’m fast, cheap, and easy.
John never had a chance.
Two point five seconds after Wally strolled into the monitor womb, John had alerted Oracle that a substitute was needed for the next shift, done a mental inventory of his bedside table to figure out if his ‘just in case’ supply of condoms and lube would be enough to get them through the weekend (considering Wally’s infamous metabolism, probably not) - the Watchtower was continually restocked with enough food to feed an army (or one speedster) - and had pounced, simultaneously shoving a dollar into Wally’s pants and purring, “Love the truth in advertising, stud,” before devouring those mochaccino-flavored lips with a speed that would have made their owner jealous - if he hadn’t been too turned on to care.
The T-shirt that started it all, sadly, became a casualty of their tryst. It went down in flames - flames caused by friction involved with Wally’s run for his bedroom.