otp: so i'm your ninja boyfriend

There are only a few things Wally likes more than food. These include; running, Artemis, and his birthday (if only for the cake, which he supposes counts as food, so it really shouldn’t be on the list, except it is and there’s nothing anyone can do about that.)

So when he’s woken by the chilled air against his (quite naked) skin, a chaste kiss flush on the lips, and the scent of pancakes, Wally decides that today might be his favourite birthday, ever. Artemis smiles down at him from her perch at the edge of their rumpled bed, her steely eyes unusually molten and her gold-spun hair pooling in the craters of her collarbone.

“Morning, birthday boy,” she whispers, and he can hardly hear her through the early morning rasp in her throat. He finds it unbelievably sexy when her voice does that, and he tells her so. She laughs, elegant face tipping back, exposing the bruised column of her throat. He feels a twinge of something at seeing those bruises—they’re his bruises, after all. Artemis bites her lip, then, and he’s done for. He leans across the bed and kisses her, morning breath and all, and she kisses back because she loves him and that’s the only birthday gift he’ll ever really want. That and pancakes, of course.

She pulls away after a few too-short minutes, and slings her arms around his neck. “I was thinking breakfast and then ice skating?” she asks, hesitantly, as if unsure whether her birthday plans and his are on the same level.

“That sounds perfect, babe,” he replies, twirling a lock of her hair around his ring finger absently. “Dinner tonight? We could order in,” he waggles his eyebrows, causing her to snort, “Or, if you’re feeling up to it, we could try that Italian place? You could wear that little black dress.”

“Hey, it’s your day. Whatever you want, babe,” she presses another quick kiss to his cheek, then climbs off the bed, stretching one hand out behind her for him. “But first, pancakes. I made a small mountain of them.”

As Wally scrambles to follow his girlfriend to the kitchen—clad in nothing but the Limited Edition Flash boxers she’d got him last year—he can’t help but affirm, in his head and possibly out loud, that this is officially the greatest start to any birthday, ever. Artemis’ lightning-laced laugh echoes down the hallway, confirming his suspicions.

And if he has to take a jog to the nearest Costco to get more syrup when they inevitably run out, he’s not about to complain.