#oh and wally called himself “mad dog wally sometimes” im counting that

[captainuranium543]

Between Erik, milianna and kinana what the fuck where they doing in that tower that kept turning children into animals

[icanhearyouglaring]

when im with you, i have fun

summary: there’s something super about him, something that has absolutely nothing to do with superpowers, and she’d tell everyone exactly what it was if she didn’t want all of its wonders to herself [spitfire + cuddles] a/n: if u like, plz reblog with your comments in the tags!!! i would love that!!!!

The keys to the apartment slip out of Artemis’s fingers as soon as she pulls them out of her jacket pocket.

“Perfect,” she mutters to herself, swooping down to pick the keys up off the wet landing.

After one of the longest, most mind-numbing finals of her life, all she wants to do is get out of the freezing, pouring rain and into the leftover stir-fry that awaits her in the refrigerator to celebrate the end of the semester. Artemis unlocks the finicky door on the first try and when it doesn’t creak loudly as she pushes it open, she momentarily wonders if her food-deprived brain brought her to the wrong door.

But, no, it is the right door. Instead of immediately stripping off her soaking jacket and making a beeline for the kitchen, Artemis quietly closes the door, rests her back against it, and lingers, taking in the sight that greets her in the living room.

Wally, lounging across the entirety of the couch wrapped up in the maroon, velvet blanket they just stress-purchased over the weekend, lazily pets a sleeping Brucely with one hand and turns the pages of the notebook in his lap with the other. His head bobs along with the music that blares beyond the confines of the headphones over his ears. He hums along, off-key and ill-timed, but close enough that Artemis can recognize the song and appreciate the attempt.

She stays by the door, dripping water on the once-clean floor, desperately wanting to pull out her phone and record the cozy scene, but unwilling to chance making a sound and ending it. Wally gets more into the song, tapping his hand against his notebook with the beat. When he aims for the high note, Artemis can’t stop the giggle that bubbles up in her throat. Brucely’s head shoots up from the spot on the floor where he’d been drooling, and he bumps Wally’s idle hand away, catching his attention. Wally cranes his neck back to follow his dog’s vision all the way to her.

“Hey, babe,” he says, quickly taking off his headphones and placing them on the side of the couch. The music doesn’t stop.

“Hey,” Artemis replies, finally slipping out of her jacket and hanging it and her bag on a hook near the door.

She kicks off her shoes and walks over to where Brucely patiently waits for her to pet him, because there was no way he was going to come to her, not with his favorite parent still patting his head (Artemis has come to begrudgingly accept her place as second favorite, but this is not to say that she has given up trying to overthrow the existing order). She sits on the floor next to the couch and rubs the top of Brucely’s head. A small sigh slips past her lips as she forces her tense shoulders to relax.

“How long were you standing there?” Wally asks, shutting his notebook and tossing it onto the coffee table.

“Just a few minutes.”

He turns on the couch to face her fully and quips, “And you didn’t say anything? Pervert.”

“You wish,” she laughs, before leaning in to press a quick, light kiss against his forehead. “So, you fixed the door?”

“Oh, yeah, I think so, but I’m not totally sure how,” Wally chuckles, trailing his knuckles over Brucely’s back. The dog revels in all the attention he’s getting. “I came back from that sham of a review session and kinda-sorta fought with it more than usual. Something clicked, and boom, no more squeaks.”

Artemis snorts, impressed and a little suspicious. “You must have a gift. Counting the toaster and the shower, that’s the third thing you’ve accidentally fixed this week.”

“So that’s why you keep me around,” Wally says with an air of indignant realization, before he moves his hand from Brucely’s back to Artemis’s knee and smiles. “Well, that and that other thing.”

“Other thing? Who’s the pervert now?” Artemis teases, placing her hand over his.

Wally laughs. “Still you. I was referring to your infinite store of love for me. You were thinking dirty thoughts. I can see it in your eyes.”

Brucely takes this opportunity to stick his nose between Wally’s hand and Artemis’s jeans. Artemis rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be jealous. There’s plenty of me to go around,” Wally says, scratching behind Brucely’s ears.

Artemis isn’t so sure he’s talking to the dog.

“You spoil him,” she says for the thousandth time.

“Who else is going to?” Wally glances at her expression and shifts gears. “How was your last final?”

The post-test uneasiness she’d left at the door returns.

“Long. Longer than I thought it’d be. I left a piece of me behind in that lecture hall,” she says, half-serious. “It’s still taking the test.”

“Ouch,” Wally winces and takes her hand, much to the annoyance of their dog-child, who sinks against the floor in protest.

Artemis starts to stand up, but Wally tugs her hand and shakes his head.

“Come here. You need a hug.”

I need that stir-fry, Artemis thinks, picturing the bowl waiting for her near the back of the fridge, but she still carefully steps over Brucely to join Wally on the couch. A hug would also be nice. She lays down beside him and he scoots as far back into the couch as he can and they move around until they find a comfortable position, her slightly on top of him and their legs tangled underneath the blanket.

Artemis sighs slowly as Wally wraps one arm around her and starts fiddling with a lock of her loose, still slightly damp hair with his other hand. With all the hustle and bustle of finals and studying and trying to fit sleep somewhere between those two things, it’s been hard to find a moment of peace with each other.

“Just one more test, babe,” Wally says, exhaustion hanging off every word.

“Are you ready for it?”

Wally laughs. “As ready as I’m going to be.”

“That’s the spirit,” Artemis says, only half-kidding because this far in the game, you either know it or you don’t.

“Before I forget, Mom called today,” Wally says slowly, practically begging her to ask–

“Yours or mine?”

“Ours,” Wally says, jokingly scandalized. “Okay, mine. She wanted to know if we’d come over next weekend for dinner and the tree lighting ceremony down at the Flash museum.”

“You told her yes, right? We always go.”

“About that,” Wally drawls, in the way that warns Artemis he’s been up to something. “I was thinking we could drive out there this year, instead of zeta-ing. Take turns driving, see the sights. We didn’t have time to plan a real vacation for this break, so why not work it into the usual schedule?”

Artemis ponders over the idea for a moment before wincing. “Do you remember our last roadtrip?”

“Oh, I can’t forget it,” he says matter-of-factly. “No matter how much I wish I could. But that just means this one can only be better.”

“Hmm, you’re going to have to sell it to me.” Artemis jokes, before seriously asking, “Where would we even go?”

Wally starts waxing poetic about the value of visiting dinosaur museums and Yellowstone and baseball stadiums and Artemis nods in all the right places and pretends to be undecided, even though he had her at ‘about that’. She lets him go on and on and on, because she loves him, and this, and their life together.

There’s something super about him, something that has absolutely nothing to do with superpowers, and she’d tell everyone exactly what it was if she didn’t want all of its wonders to herself (and Brucely, sometimes).

He has the ability to flip her mood like it’s a goddamn lightswitch (in a good way, most of the time). She’ll be feeling ten types of upset over trivial and important things and then he’ll say something like–

“I guess it doesn’t really matter where, as long as I’m with you.”

–and it’s like all those other things cease to exist, for a moment at least. It really is his gift: inadvertently making things better, just by being himself.

“You’re a cornball,” Artemis says, smiling as she moves to straddle him on the couch.

Wally tilts his head and smiles up at her. “You smell like rain.”

“And you smell like dog–” Artemis says truthfully, wrinkling her nose and leaning down to kiss him anyways.

Brucely barks jealously and they break apart to give the dog matching exasperated looks, but before they can resume their activities, Artemis tastes a familiar tang on the corner of her lip and gasps. She sweeps her tongue over it again, just to be sure. Her eyes flit from Wally’s confused face to the empty bowl sitting on the coffee table. How had she missed it?

“Oh my god,” Artemis sits up on his lap. “You ate my stir-fry? I called dibs.”

Wally blanches. “You did? When?”

“When I put it away.”

Wally cringes. “That’s when I was taking B outside. I am so sorry.”

Artemis releases a short breath, resigned, hungry, and in a forgiving mood (because who could stay mad after all that).

“It’s okay. We still have everything, so I can make another batch tonight.”

That’s when the doorbell rings, startling everyone but Brucely, who has a knack for ignoring everyone but Wally whenever he’s in the room. Artemis untangles her foot from the blanket and rises from the couch.

“Surprise,” Wally says, rushing to get up and grab his wallet from under the coffee table. “I ordered Paola’s to celebrate surviving another semester.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis grins, thinking “Fuck the stir-fry”.

“I did,” he nods, and Brucely dutifully pads along behind his favorite parent as he goes to answer the door.

“Hey,” Artemis calls for Wally’s attention just before he can open the door, “you’re the best, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Love you, too.”

As he makes small talk with the obviously uninterested delivery man, Artemis muses that yes, she’ll keep this all to herself (and the dog) for as long as she can.