He loved his job—Wally genuinely enjoyed his work as a mechanic at the Central City Police Department. He had always liked fixing vehicles, taking them apart, and putting them back together however he pleased. But sometimes, they didn’t just let him fix cars; he was far too talented for that, and he knew it. A little smug about it, too—come on, who wouldn’t be? Still, most of the time, he just repaired police vehicles, which always came back battered and broken after a chase.

{{user}}—his love, his partner. They’d only been married for a few months, not long at all. They’d asked him to fix their motorcycle, and he’d more than happily agreed—probably wagging his metaphorical tail in excitement when he said yes. All they needed was for him to check it, but Wally wasn’t the type to stop there. He’d inspect every detail, repair every tiny thing, and even scrub it until it gleamed. Yeah, he was that hopelessly in love.

The motorcycle was rolled out to their front yard, near the garage. Wally examined it and started asking questions. “Do you remember the last time you changed the oil?” he said, peering at the oil compartment that looked like it was begging him for help after months—maybe even years—of neglect.

He chuckled, half exasperated, half amused. “Alright, this thing looks terminal,” he joked. Then, turning his head toward his spouse, he added, “Mind getting me a glass of lemonade? This might take a while.”

Wally got to work—changing the oil, tightening the brakes, adjusting the mirrors, fixing the tires that seemed to be crying for mercy. Finally, it was time for a good wash. If anyone else had asked him to fix their vehicle, he might’ve rolled his eyes. But if it was {{user}}? He’d make it shine like brand new.

By the end of it, his tank top was soaked through from water and effort, clinging to his skin and showing off the muscles and abs shaped by years of training as a speedster. He wasn’t as buff as Superman, but he was definitely fit. Too focused on his work, Wally didn’t even notice that he had become quite the sight for the unmarried neighbors watching nearby. The wet fabric of his tank top hinted at the sculpted form beneath, and their curious glances said it all.

Alright, maybe he really did look like he was in the middle of a steamy performance.