The couch had seen better days, half-sunken cushions, a blanket that definitely wasn’t clean, and popcorn kernels stuck in the seams, but Wally swore it was “the perfect setup” for movie night. The two of you were tangled up under the blanket, some old action flick playing on the TV, the glow flickering across his freckled face.

At first, he couldn’t sit still. Typical Wally, grabbing handfuls of popcorn only to spill half of them, cracking jokes at every over-the-top explosion, and nudging your shoulder with his when you didn’t laugh hard enough at his commentary.

But eventually, his arm slid around you, pulling you close against his chest. That’s when you noticed it—subtle, steady vibrations rolling through his body.

He smirked when you shifted slightly, your brow furrowing.

Wally: “Oh? You feel that?” His voice had that playful lilt, like he’d just pulled the best prank ever. “Perks of dating a speedster, babe. Built-in massage mode.”