Archive of Our Own

It’s not the plan, it was never the plan. Truthfully, Oliver didn’t really plan on suddenly being a father for the last nine years, and he thinks he can be forgiven a little sloppiness as he desperately tries to make up for lost time as best he can with William.

But he should have realized his friends and teammates would grow curious as to his sudden increased visits to Central City, considering he can provide them little to no real reason. Felicity’s starting to eye him suspiciously and Thea semi-jokingly asks if the Flash really needs that much help with his own city.

And Oliver…well, he’s never been the most brilliant liar. So when a ready-made one is presented to him, he seizes on it. To his team’s point of view he’s started stopping by Central semi-regularly to keep appraised of the situation there, and vice versa, since they all do occasionally work together. At the least it’ll keep the majority of Team Flash out of the lie. Of course, this will only work if Barry is clued into the lie, which has the potential for some serious humiliation.

But Barry is all too happy to accommodate him once he explains the problem, even suggests they grab a coffee or something quick during Oliver’s trips to make it more believable.

Oliver's honestly pretty grateful the other man's willing to go to all these lengths, and really it's not much of a hardship for himself. It's nice getting to see the other man more regularly and talk about anything, their latest fights, their teams—being able to air any grievances without fear of offending their friends is an unexpected bonus—and just their lives. Barry always asks about William, and Oliver never pictured himself as being the type of father to go on gushing about his kid, but Barry is literally the only person he can talk to about William so the speedster gets everything. And he never complains.

They figure they've done a pretty good job covering Oliver's tracks, too, so it's really a win-win. All in all, they're pretty proud of themselves.

That is, until their teams both decide to hold an intervention.

---

Barry walks into STAR labs still smiling after another lunch with Oliver to find Cisco, Caitlin, and Iris already there, standing and waiting and looking serious. And Cisco may or may not have put up one of those ‘intervention’ banners you didn’t see outside of television.

"Um, hey guys...what's going on?"

"Barry, we need to talk," Caitlin starts delicately.

"About what?"

"About your relationship with Oliver," Iris states more plainly.

Barry raises an eyebrow, lips quirking in a bemused smile. "What about it? I mean, we're cool, there's nothing--"

"Dude, just give up, we know you're dating," Cisco declares.

"What?"

"Um, the secret and then not-secret meetings? The whole teaming up just for fun? Not to mention the flirting, man, I mean you guys got it bad. We're not stupid."

"We're not- that's not- I don't flirt with Oliver," Barry sputters in protest, because how could they think that? Nobody thinks that, and definitely not Oliver. Right?

"It's ok," Caitlin reassures him regardless, offering him one of her gentle smiles. "It's actually kind of sweet."

"Yeah," Iris agrees, before her whole demeanor shifts. "But Barry, why did you feel like you couldn't tell us? We're you're friends, and we care about you." She takes a step forward and fixes him with the full force of her sad, disappointed eyes. "When are you going to learn that you can trust us?"

Barry's mouth opens and shuts several times with not a sound emerging. He can't think of anything to say. Nothing that will threaten Oliver’s secret, the one he’s trusted Barry to keep. "I—I do trust you guys! It's just, Oliver and I—we're not like that."

"Then what's really going on?" His best friend demands.

---

Meanwhile, in Star City, a certain emerald archer is just finishing up his final reps on the salmon ladder when he hears the voice of John Diggle call out from below. "Oliver, you done man? We need to talk."

Oliver completes his routine before dropping down onto the mat and moving to grab his towel and water bottle. Dig is waiting for him by the monitors next to Felicity, who is watching the pair of them rather than anything on her screens. He can't help noticing, either, that Laurel and Thea have paused in their spar and are standing not far away.

"Who's we, exactly?"

"The team. It's a team discussion. Well, more of a friend discussion," Felicity gets off to her typical rambling start, "but seeing as we are your team and your friends, either works really. It's pretty mutually exclusive."

"I happen to have other friends," he reminds, even if there's not much heat to it. "Barry, for instance—"

"Ah, and there it is," Laurel interrupts him with a smug smirk. Oliver frowns, not quite getting what the joke is.

"And what's 'it', Laurel?"

Thea is the one who answers, however, pretending to think about it for a moment before saying, "Hm, maybe the fact that you're dating the Flash? I think we all know that you're dating the Flash."

Oliver stares for a moment, unsure if his ears are working properly. Then something like a laugh—though it's short, brief, and somewhat flat—is startled out of him. "I'm sorry, you all think that Barry and I—the two of us—that I'm dating Barry Allen?"

"It's really that ridiculous?" Dig manages to ask in that way that's never a question, because he's already decided he knows the answer. "You've been sneaking off to see him since December, Oliver, and not for anything related to our after-hours work."

"It's not that we're mad," Felicity is already rushing to say. "We're actually all really happy for you, because you always seem so much happier when you come back, and that's...really nice, Oliver."

Well of course he's always happier when he gets back. He's getting to spend time with his son. And Barry, of course, but that's just a misunderstanding on everyone else's part. The truth, however, is something he can never reveal.

"I...I can't have this discussion right now," he finally states, making quick strides to where his shirt is hanging, pulling it on, and heading for the door.

"And where are you going?" Laurel inquires, unimpressed.

"Probably to call his secret boyfriend now that the cat's out of the bag," Thea snickers, seeming to thoroughly enjoy how the tables have turned on him. And the trouble is, she isn't exactly wrong. He gets out his phone and dials the other vigilante's number.

"Oh thank God," is the greeting Barry elects to go with, sounding unaccountably relieved.

"Everything ok?" he has to ask first, setting his own concerns aside for the moment.

"Yeah. I mean it's, nothing's wrong, there's just—" the younger man pauses and when he hears Barry's voice again it's muffled. "It's Oliver, Iris. Yes, Oliver. No, you can't! Just—listen, um, we need to talk," he finally directs back down the line to Oliver himself.

Considering that was his objective in the first place, Oliver's more than happy to agree. "The roof?"

"Yeah, yeah that should be good." Barry sounds tense, and he really wants to ask...but it can wait until they're face to face. He's sure the younger man would tell him if there was something seriously wrong.

"Alright, I'll be waiting. Don't be late," he reminds in an effort to lighten the situation.

Barry laughs, though it sounds more nervous than anything, then promises, "I'll try not to be." They both hang up.

Now, Oliver reflects, all he has to do is figure out some way to tell the other man what's going on without their mutual mortification. Why does his team have to do these things?

---

Barry does his best to focus purely on running, pushing everything else to the back of his mind. He's pretty sure no amount of rehearsing "my friends think we're dating" is going to make this better, anyway. And he knows the more he stresses about it the more of a mess he'll be by the time he meets up with Oliver.

Oh God, he's actually telling Oliver about this.

Their usual rooftop is already in sight, however, so there's no use backing out now. He's sure the other man will be perfectly level-headed about the whole thing.

But as Barry skids to a stop, sparks flying from yet another pair of sneakers, he finds Oliver pacing. Which is more than a little worrying.

Oliver stills, looking Barry over for a moment. There's conflict in his eyes, and he finds himself taking a couple steps closer. The other man seems to shake himself out of it, however, for he says, "Just a little disagreement with the team. It's nothing serious. What did you need to talk about?"

Barry feels his voice failing him again and his mouth is dry. He swallows and licks at his lips under Oliver's close stare. "Oh. Well, it's kind of something similar, actually. The team, my team, just--well, they thought something was going on, but it wasn't—isn't. It's kind of funny, actually, that they thought that." He's managed to keep this mostly casual for now, but here it is. The big reveal. "They think we're dating," He blurts abruptly, then immediately cringes.

Oliver looks shocked. And since he doesn't say anything, Barry immediately starts saying things. Or tries to anyway. "I mean, they only just said anything about it today, I didn't realize they were getting that idea. I don't even know why they're getting that idea—Cisco was probably joking about it—but I know it sounds crazy—"

"Well then what's really insane is that my team said the same thing," Oliver cuts him off. And now it's Barry's turn to fall silent.

For a moment, at least. "For real?"

Oliver grimaces, then says, "I was more than a little shocked."

"Well, yeah. Yeah, I mean you're Oliver Queen. Not that that means you couldn't—that is if you wanted—they're only saying this because they don't know the whole story," he finally finds the right words to avoid sounding too offensive in either direction.

"I know," Oliver says, mercifully understanding. "I know, and that's my fault. This is about me and William, and because I've made you complicit in my lies it's affecting you."

"You didn't have a choice," Barry immediately disputes. "You're just doing what you have to. To be his father, Oliver. That's not wrong."

Oliver seems relieved to hear it, even if he glances away for a moment.

"Still," the older man speaks after some time, "you don't have to be involved in this if you don't want, Barry. Tell your team I asked for your help with something. I'll just have to let mine know I have business in Central that's not up for discussion."

It's the right thing for Oliver to do, probably, being as truthful as he can with his teammates. Barry should just be glad he's being let off the hook and can hopefully forget this minor embarrassment. But he remembers Felicity's single-minded determination in the original timeline, how she'd followed Oliver to Barry's lab on the mere suspicion the vigilante was keeping something from her and the others.

"They won't be satisfied with just that."

"I know," Oliver agrees again, tone grim. "I'll just have to stop coming to Central until I can figure something else out." There's a blankness to his expression that he feels is hiding a tremendous pain, and Barry thinks his own heart clenches at the thought for both Oliver and William.

It just isn't fair, to either of them, this ultimatum that Oliver's done his best to follow dutifully. And he can't stand the thought of this man, one of his closest friends and partner, losing a single opportunity to connect with his own son when he's already been robbed of nine years. Not when he can do something about it.

Barry's voice is completely steady as he says, "Or we could just use the excuse you already have."

Oliver's staring at him like he's never seen Barry before. "You think we should pretend that they're right. That we're actually dating."

"Well why not?" Barry says with a lot more confidence than he truly feels, being that his insides are a roiling mess of panic right now, and affects a casual shrug. "Neither of us is seeing anyone right now—unless you're—" but Oliver is already rapidly giving a shake of the head, so he continues, "—ok. Me and dating anybody while I'm a superhero just doesn't really work period, so I promise, you wouldn't be getting in the way of anything. So you can keep visiting William and then after that the two of us will just, I don't know, grab coffee. Same as usual. And, well, I don't see why this doesn't work."

"I do," Oliver counters, but when Barry arches a brow all the man has is, "you dating me?" There's something of a disbelieving scoff on the end, and Barry nearly bristles. He's not sure why.

"Our friends seem to think it's believable," he maintains. "And I could totally do worse."

Oliver barks a short laugh at that, which settles some of Barry's nerves. At least this isn't that awkward. And then the other man's eyes soften and he says, "Thank you, Barry. I really don't know how to tell you how much this means to me."

He smiles broadly back. "Hey, what are friends for, right? We're gonna get you through this." And well, partly because they should probably be comfortable with this much and partly because Oliver looks like he needs one, Barry raises his arms for a hug. There's a flicker of hesitance in the other's expression, and he thinks he only notices it because time seems to slow down as Oliver moves in to reciprocate.

This is only going to be awkward if he makes it awkward, damnit. Barry does his best to stay relaxed as the other vigilante's arms circle around him, and focuses on holding on tight enough to be reassuring but not tight enough to be weird. He just had to go and make one of the most meaningful relationships he's had with another person weird, didn't he. Why does he always do this?

But he's thankfully plastered another smile on his face by the time they break apart—longer than their first hug but still relatively brief and he needs to stop overanalyzing or he'll drive himself crazy and this will never work—and Oliver at least looks settled in their decision.

"I guess I'll see you around?" His voice unhelpfully rises towards the end so that it's a question instead of the jaunty farewell he meant to give.

"Yeah," Oliver replies. "Yeah, I was going to be in town next Thursday. If that works for you," he tacks on.

Barry looks up as he tries to recall his own schedule. "Um, yeah. Yeah I get off early that day unless there's a case—or a meta. But come either way, seriously."

"Ok." Oliver affords him a brief smile, more a flash of teeth than anything. "See you then."

He grins back, then is zipping down the side of the building and away through the city streets, his mind practically abuzz with the implications of their plan. He's going to need to manage his schedule even better than before, obviously, so that their 'dates' coincide with Oliver's visits to William. And since he's hosting, he's probably going to need to scout out some better venues than Big Belly Burger. But then again, this is just for the benefit of their teams, so does Oliver really want a lot of attention being brought to this? Does he even want that? And—

Before he knows it he's come to a stop back in the Cortex. Where everybody still is. Right, he's only been gone barely an hour.

"So?" Iris asks pointedly, hands on her hips.

Barry takes a deep breath and hopes he's wearing something of a sheepish look as he answers, "You caught us."

Caitlin practically leaps up with her hands in the air. "Ooh, yay!"

"Thank you, Barry," Iris says with one of her approving smiles, and she pulls him in for a hug. "I still want to know everything about how it happened."

"That's what I'm talking about, superhero supercouple! Yeah!" Cisco's vying for a high-five, but spots someone in the doorway over Barry's shoulder. "Hey Harry, guess what--"

"If it's not about defeating Zoom, I don't care, Ramon," the prickly scientist cuts him off. "Now I for one suggest we actually do something to achieve that end."

As the others all move with various degrees of reluctance and eye rolls to do that, for the first time in what feels a year Barry finds himself thanking God for Harrison Wells.

He's passed the first test, at least.

---

Oliver always looks forward to his trips to Central City, but he doesn't think he's ever been quite as grateful for the excuse to get away as he is that next Thursday. While Diggle seems to be content with simply the knowledge that Oliver is no longer trying to hide something from them—and it must speak to something in Oliver, the worst parts of him that he tries to deny, that he feels not a shred of guilt at the fact that it's not even remotely true—the women on their team have been relentless. In Thea and Laurel's case, it's mostly been teasing remarks while Felicity has had nonstop questions. All of which are hard to address considering he and Barry didn't hammer out an actual story of how this pretend-relationship happened. It's something they'll have to talk about when they meet up, because there's only so many times he can wave them away with, "It just sort of happened."

For now, however, he pushes those thoughts aside to focus instead on William, who's apparently been sent to his room.

"He's been slacking on a school project," Samantha explains. "I had to take his action figures. He's not in a good mood for visitors and he's supposed to be working. I would've called, but..." she trails off with a shrug apologetically.

"I can get a second phone, if you ever need to contact me," he offers. "I'm here for William and I want to help you out, too, if I can."

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"I could try talking to him," he suggests after a pause. "If he's in a mood, he's probably not working anyway. Let me see if I can, I don't know." Cheering people up isn't really his area, but he does know how to work with people when they're being difficult. "I'll get him on track."

Samantha studies him for a long moment, then nods, leading him back down the hall. She knocks on their son's door. "William?"

"Go away!"

"Will, Oliver's here to see you. Do you want to talk?"

There's a beat of silence and he's holding his breath before they both hear the sound of feet shuffling on the floor and the door opens. "Hi."

"Hey, William," he says with a genuine smile, and is more than glad to be let into the room. William goes over to his bed and flops down while Oliver elects to sit at the chair in front of his desk. "Rough day, huh?"

"My mom got mad and took my action figures. Cause of my stupid science project."

Oliver nods sagely. "Science isn't easy."

"I hate science."

While Oliver can't necessarily say he faults his son this, he recognizes that it won't do any good to allow him to stew on the matter. And even if it's not his own strongest subject, Oliver's learned to have more than an appreciation for it due to his own experiences and many of his friends. Which gives him an idea.

"You do? Well that's a shame. Cause the Flash loves science."

William sits straight up. "No. way."

"Yes way. He's the biggest nerd I know," Oliver states with confidence.

"But he's so cool!"

"Well science can be cool, too. He uses science all the time to stop the bad guys. Like at Christmas, with Weather Wizard."

"Nuh-uh, my friend was there! He said he saw the Flash used a wand!"

"Yeah, but you know how he made the wand? Science."

William's mouth drops open as he processes this. "Ok," he says slowly, "I guess science is a little cool. But I'm not any good at it."

Oliver gives him a gentle smile. "That's ok. You don't have to be the best, or even good, you just gotta try." He pauses for a moment, then gathers his resolve. "Why don't we take a look at that project?"

William thinks about it for a moment, then nods his head, climbing off the bed. Oliver's quick to vacate the chair to make room, instead squatting to the side so he's on the same level.

"It's for the science fair at the end of the month," the boy tells him.

"A science fair," Oliver echoes, doing his best to sound positive. He's fairly sure there's no possible way he can help his son with this. At least, not without using his own resources.

It's a good thing he's got a date with just one of those. An actual date, good Lord when did this turn into his life?

A few short hours later and they’ve skimmed through William’s textbook to look for ideas on what sort of experiment he could do. The kid seemed fairly interested in their unit having to do with electricity, surprise surprise, but he did his best to gently discourage that. Samantha calls William out for dinner, though, and he takes that as his cue, happy enough with the grateful look she fixes him on his way out the door.

He and Barry have already agreed to meet at the other’s lab, so he does his best to slip into the precinct without drawing to much attention to himself, fortunate enough not to see any sign of Detective West. It occurs to him that he’s not sure what Barry’s told his foster father about all this and he does not want to be the one to break it to him.

But the other West he’s familiar with happens to be up in the crime lab with a frustrated looking Barry, who spots him in the doorway and gives him a helpless shrug. Iris turns around and her face practically lights up.

“Oliver! So good to see you.”

“Iris,” he greets with a polite smile, which swiftly turns to startled panic when the woman strides forward and pulls him into a hug. Barry’s looking away in what appears to be sheer mortification, so he’s clearly on his own. “It’s good to see you again, too.” He’s let go, though she steps to the side rather than back, leaving a clear path to Barry, and is looking between the two of them with an almost eager happiness.

Oliver gets the hint, and walks over to the other man who is watching his approach with what looks mostly like confusion and apprehension. At the last second the speedster seems to get with the program, opening himself up for a hug. Trying not to roll his eyes, Oliver accepts the embrace, but makes sure to tilt his face in, just barely ghosting his lips over the other’s temple. He expects the jump in reaction and simply tightens his hold to keep Barry firmly planted on the ground, so the only give-away is the sharp intake of breath he gives.

Oliver pulls back, meeting Barry’s eyes and hoping his own convey the message of was that ok? well enough. “Hey, Barry.”

“Hey,” the younger man manages, voice a higher pitch than normal, but he clears his throat and gives a nod at the same time. “I’m ready to head out.”

“Great.”

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Iris asks.

“Um, we don’t really have anything specific,” Barry tells her, while Oliver makes himself busy grabbing his jacket from where it’s slung over the back of his chair. “Oh, thanks.”

“Wow Bear, sounds romantic,” is Iris’ sarcastic reply.

“Thank you,” Barry says back in just the same tone, though he drops it to add, “but seriously, thanks for covering with Joe. You’re a life saver.”

“I know. Just go have fun on your date,” she dismisses with a wave of the hand.

Barry’s still lingering however. “Right, right, my date. Which this is—”

“Come on, Barry,” he finally cuts in, making a grab for the other man’s hand, but pulling back at the last second. Barry still listens, hurrying with him out the door while Iris watches with far more of a contemplative look to her features.

“Ok, that could’ve gone better.” Oliver fixes Barry with a look, who then defends, “I froze! It happens.”

He could make any number of remarks about how that shouldn’t be possible for the fastest man on Earth-1, but instead he reminds himself that Barry is doing this voluntarily for him and sighs. “We could probably both work on it.”

They’ve gotten a few blocks away from the precinct and Barry abruptly turns a corner, grabbing hold of Oliver’s sleeve to direct him down a side street. “How about we talk about it over pizza? These guys are one of the best. Well, the best in Central City. We’ve got nothing on Coast City pizza. But you guys are worse, so you’ll like this.”

“Oh are we?” He can’t help disputing, the familiar friendly competition that often buzzes underneath their team-ups a welcome feeling.

“You have better sushi.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of consolation prize?”

“Welcome to Tony’s New York Style Pizza, party of two?” A young woman in a fairly standard uniform asks, and it really only registers now that they’ve entered the small shop.

“Yep,” Barry is the one to confirm.

“Would you like a table or booth?”

“Uh, booth would be good.”

“One moment, please.” Shortly after, they’re led back and given menus before being left alone again.

They catch each other’s eyes once or twice, and there’s a couple false starts to the conversation. “We should probably get separate pizzas,” Barry says out of the blue. “I like weird toppings, Joe’s the only one who’ll eat them.”

“We could do half and half,” he recommends. “Unless you need more food.”

“No, I ate on my break. Thought it’d look kind of weird…” Barry drums his fingers on the table for a minute. “Ok, so, talking about it. Critiques? Criticisms?”

“Maybe try not to look like a deer in headlights every time I come near you,” is his opening salvo, to which Barry winces. “They think we’ve been seeing each other for over a month.”

“Ok, yeah.”

“And we need to figure out what that story is,” he points out. “We can’t have conflicting accounts.” He finds it’s a lot easier to look at this as just another mission, another cover, something to coordinate with his partner for field work. Never mind that the field is all their closest friends and family.

“Yeah, alright, but my turn,” Barry hastens to say. Oliver watches him expectantly, but the younger man takes a moment to squirm instead. He opens his mouth, but then the other finally states, “You gotta call me Bear. Sometimes.”

“Barry—”

“The people closest to me always do,” the speedster counters before he can really argue. “So unless you wanna get inventive with the pet names…”

He raises a hand to halt that train of thought. “Alright. I guess I’m ‘Ollie’ then.”

Barry stares at him for a moment. “I already call you Ollie.”

Oh. “Right.” How had he not noticed that? He was aware of it, but it had just…slipped by him. It hadn’t felt off, there’d been no shift. It was natural.

“Hi, my name is Maggie and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you gentlemen off with something to drink?”

“Water’s fine for me,” Barry tells the young woman standing before their table with a pleasant smile.

“I’ll have the same,” he decides, seeing as he never really bothered to look at the menu.

“Alright, and were you ready to order by any chance?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think we’re just gonna get a large pizza, half—plain?”

“Plain,” he confirms with a nod.

“Right, and half with pepperoni, olives, and jalapeño,” Barry lists off, and he can’t hold in a snort. The other man shoots him an injured look.

Their server looks between them with some amusement, but dutifully copies the order down on her notepad. “Ok, let me just go put that in for you and I’ll be right back with your waters.”

“Thank you,” Barry says, and Oliver echoes more quietly. The younger man waits until the woman is out of site, then comments dryly, “If this is how you treat your dates, I can totally see why you’re single.”

He laughs. “No, this is not how I treat my dates, Barry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. I mean it’s not like, well.” But Oliver won’t get to know what “it’s” like, because Maggie is coming back to the table. She sets down both waters and some cutlery before heading off to the kitchen again. “Please tell me you’re not one of those people who cuts their pizza into pieces, because if you are I don’t think I can do this.”

He finds himself chuckling again. “No, no I’m not.”

“We’ll be ok, then,” Barry assures him, with his usual charm and brazen confidence, and it’s easy enough to smile back.

“I think we will be.”

“So how’s William?”

He’s grateful for the change in topic for more than one reason, and admits, “Not great. There’s a science fair coming up and—”

“Really?” Barry’s instantly perked up like he was hoping he would. “What’s he doing for it?”

“That’s the thing, he doesn’t really know. He’s not exactly into the sciences.”

And of course Barry doesn’t even get mock-offended when it comes to the boy. “It’s not for everybody. And they don’t do enough hands-on stuff in school. Science fairs are great, though!”

“I’m sure they were great for someone who always won them,” Oliver remarks.

Barry looks caught off guard by it. “Oh I didn’t—I didn’t always win. I mean, one year I almost got banned from them because I started a chemical fire—”

“On purpose?”

“What’s cooler than a chemical fire?” Barry shoots right back. “I did get an A—and a suspension.”

“I’ll bet. I’m starting to rethink asking you for your help,” he says.

“No. Really? I’d love to!” He thinks the speedster’s about to start jumping up and down in the booth he’s so excited at the prospect. “What were you guys thinking of doing?”

“Honestly? Not a clue. I haven’t taken a science course in—let’s just say it’s been a while,” he decides, Barry grinning cheekily back at him. “I had to try and steer him away from anything electricity-related.”

“What? Why no—oh, I see how it is. So because I get struck by lightning this is my fault?”

“Struck by lightning and put in a coma, Barry. I don’t really relish the opportunity to repeat that experience with my son.” And God, does he really relish the chance to say those words out loud.

“You do realize that unless another particle accelerator just happens to go off the same time as William’s science fair, he’s not gonna get struck by lightning and turn into—”

But Barry’s breath hitches again when Oliver suddenly reaches across the table and grabs at his hand; he’s just spotted the waitress, bringing what looks like their food over. Nothing else for it, then, he simply forces a smile to his face and leaves his hand resting over Barry’s on the table.

“Alright, careful it’s still hot,” Maggie says. “Anything else I can get you this evening?”

“No thank you,” Oliver replies. He watches as her eyes dart to their hands before she’s looking up again, smile ticking up from customer-service to something more genuine.

“I’ll be back with the check, then,” she tells this to Oliver, then adds, “and some more waters for you. Enjoy!”

There’s silence as they both watch her go. Then Oliver does his best to make letting go of Barry’s hand look casual by reaching for a slice of pizza. The other man’s quick to do the same, nearly knocking over what’s left of his water in the process.

“So- so yeah, maybe electricity-themed experiments aren’t the best idea,” Barry says like they’ve just settled a minor debate. “You know what? I bet he’d be more into something physics-related anyway. You said he’s pretty active.”

“I know nothing about physics,” he makes sure to disclaim right at the start.

“Well sure you do, you use it all the time. Actually—that’s perfect!” And like that the younger man’s back to grinning at him excitedly across the table. He can’t help but be glad for that, even when the next two words out of his mouth are, “Archer’s paradox.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s this thing that happens in archery. I did a lot of reading up on it when the Vigilante first started—well,” Barry gives an awkward sort of cough, but continues nevertheless, “It has to do with the oscillation of the arrow when it’s released in order for it to hit the desired target.” He nods to show he’s following along. “I can send you some links that would probably explain it better, but it’s definitely perfect for a science fair. And you can teach it to William.”

Oliver’s quiet for a moment. He hadn’t really thought to examine his own abilities to help out with his son’s project, never having been accused of being remotely scientific. In fact most of his work as the vigilante is put down to sheer brawn by others. Yet here Barry is, telling him he has the knowledge to teach his son physics.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess that could work. Thank you.”

Barry beams back at him. “No problem.”

“Alright here’s the check,” says Maggie, who’s returned completely unnoticed this time, placing a small paper face-down in front of him. “You’ll pay it up at the register there. I want to thank you both for coming in, and have a lovely night!”

“I guess we were pretty convincing,” Barry comments once the waitress has left for the final time. “And I can get that, or some of it, I don’t know—”

“She gave me the check, Barry,” he points out, then smirks. “Pretty sure she’d think me an awful date if I made you pay it.”

The other man looks away for a moment, like he doesn’t even know what to say. “Fine. But I’m getting tip.”

That compromise in place, they’re soon leaving the restaurant. Outside, the pair of them stand around for a moment, neither one quite sure what happens now.

“I guess, uh, you got a train to catch?”

“Took the bike,” Oliver tells him.

“Right,” Barry nods. “You would. Well I should let you get going, then. You know when you’re gonna be in town next?”

He thinks. On the one hand, he used to space out his visits to try and keep the others from noticing, and Samantha might not be too keen on him suddenly stepping them up. But on the other, he’s promised to help William with his project and thanks to Barry basically has a blank check to show up practically whenever he wants. If they’re doing this for his son, then he might as well make the most of it.

“I might come back in this weekend.”

“Oh. Well, at that rate you might as well just—actually, you probably wanna check in with the team. Yeah, that makes sense. So, I’ll see you this weekend.”

“See you, Barry.” It’s Oliver who again moves in for the hug, and this time he holds on a moment longer than he’s usually ok with. Barry doesn’t seem to mind, anyway. And it’s…comfortable.

They back off after a time, the younger man giving a short wave that he returns with a nod, before each of them turn and head their separate ways.

---

Barry is never more thankful for super speed than when he comes home not wanting to see or speak with anyone for the rest of the night. He zips into the West house, up the stairs and into his room, the sound of the door shutting his only giveaway. Usually his family respects that sign as him needing his own space and a good night’s sleep.

But for whatever reason, and he thinks he knows why, Iris decides to break that rule tonight.

“So,” she says, shutting the door behind her before dropping down onto his bed. He barely has time to roll out of the way to make room. “How’d it go? I didn’t psych you out earlier or anything, did I? I know you guys only just made things official.”

“What? No,” he assures her, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. “No, things went fine. We just went out for pizza and, um, talked. Like usual.”

“Uh-huh. Well, that’s good. I really think this is good for you, Bear. I know how hard it was trying to keep your secret while dating Linda last year, so it’s great that you found somebody who already loves you for who you are. All of you.”

She’s smiling but Barry nearly starts up from the bed. “Woah, slow down with the ‘love’, ok? We’ve been on one date—one official date. I think that’s a little early.”

“Ok,” she says with a teasing grin, nudging his leg. “Pretend you’re not the biggest romantic I know.”

“It’s really not all that romantic, Iris,” he insists, in part because he feels badly for lying to her again, and in part so as to try and not build the other’s expectations up too high. “It’s just…us.”

Rather than seem disappointed by that answer, Iris fixes him with a fond smile. “I’m so happy for you,” she tells him and it’s all Barry can do to try and return the sentiment with a smile of his own before she’s getting up from the bed and heading out the door. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” he calls after her. Then drops back down onto the bed with a groan. Ok, one date down…however many to go. He’s not exactly thrilled that he has basically a day to breathe before reassuming the ruse, but then again he should be used to wearing masks by now. It’ll probably just be dinner on Saturday, they can try the Italian place down by the bay—unless pizza and Italian is too redundant. Maybe he should just ask Oliver what he wants to do this time instead of deciding for the both of them. He should like that.

Settled with that, Barry flicks off his bedside lamp, rolls over, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t fall asleep immediately, but it does come, and he doesn’t remember waking even once in the middle of the night.

By Saturday, however, his team is embroiled in yet another metahuman case. He’s waiting on Cisco to finish up the final touches on a new device he says will negate her powers and spinning his phone in his hands, trying to figure out what to do.

“What’s the matter?” Caitlin asks, seeming to pick up on his indecision.

“Uh, I was supposed to go out with Oliver,” he explains, doing his best to make the words sound natural. “But this is gonna take too long. He’ll get it, I think he’s sticking around till Sunday anyway.”

“Of course he will,” Caitlin offers sympathetically. “Is he already here?”

“Either that or on his way.”

“So why not just tell him to come to the labs?” Cisco suggests. Barry blanches, but the engineer is already on a roll. “Super-couple team-up, come on, it’ll be awesome! Good to have back up, too, we don’t know if this baby’s gonna work until you test it out.”

Rather than marvel at how he puts his life into Caitlin and Cisco’s hands on a regular basis, Barry says, “I don’t know. I mean he wasn’t really here to take on bad guys.”

“Does he have his suit?” Caitlin asks. And yeah, yeah he probably does knowing Oliver. “Just try calling him, Barry, I’m sure he’d want you to ask.”

Which is how Oliver ends up coming along as soon as his team discovers their meta’s current location. It tips the balance severely in their favor, which he’s certainly not complaining about, and before he knows it the two of them are back in the lab.

He’s already changed back into civilian clothes with his suit on its mannequin while Oliver is still in the process of hanging up his gear. “Night’s still young, for now,” he remarks, hoping to signify he doesn’t mind if Oliver goes to the Clayton’s home after this

“If that’s your way of telling me to hurry up, Bear, not all of us have super speed,” is all Oliver says in reply.

“I—I wasn’t saying that,” Barry counters a bit weakly, momentarily thrown at the use of the pet name even if he asked for it, and Cisco is snickering at him. He shoots him an injured look.

“Thank you so much for your help, Oliver,” Caitlin is telling the other man. “It’s nice when Barry doesn’t have to go out in the field alone.” There’s something distant in her smile, and he knows she’s thinking of times past with Ronnie and Professor Stein. They meet eyes briefly and he does his best to convey his support.

“Well, Barry’s incredibly capable,” Oliver states confidently, and he does his best not to preen too much under the praise. “And he’s not really alone with you two.” Oliver’s finished hanging up the bow and now turns back to him. “Give me a minute to change and we can head out.”

“Ok, Ollie,” he returns brightly. Oliver cuts him a look, but then his eyes slide past him to the other two in the room closely watching their exchange. Barry happens to be standing in the path to the changing room, and Oliver will have to pass him in close-quarters. There’s a sort of expectation hanging heavy in the air, almost tangible, and he knows it’s not something they can really afford to refuse. So when Oliver focuses back on him, he gives a minute nod of the head.

So Oliver takes a step forward, places a hand at Barry’s elbow and leans in. His lips end up skirting Barry’s own, instead pressing to the corner of his mouth. He still has to try hard to suppress a shudder. It’s not gross or wrong, just…Oliver. Kissing him, sort of. He’s lightheaded with the absurdity of it.

“Be right back,” the other man murmurs in his ear, low and kind of husky in a way Barry’s never heard from him before. His stomach does some strange flip-flop and that sense of lightheadedness increases.

He’s able to dredge up a shaky smile, but it drops like a stone at the sound of another voice.

“What the hell is going on here?” Less of a question and more of a shout, Joe’s entered the cortex at precisely the wrong moment, and Barry freezes.

“Joe!” He nearly squeaks, and beside him Oliver has stiffened, but turns his body in a way that places him slightly in front, and directly in the line of fire.

“Detective West.” It’s clipped and more than a little wary.

Joe doesn’t even bother with a greeting. His eyes are narrowed entirely on the other man as he storms across the room and he nearly growls, “Just what the hell were you doing with my son?”

Caitlin and Cisco have both moved back behind their workstations, wide-eyed and heads down, able as ever to predict when to get out of the way. And yeah, this has nothing to do with them. It’s all completely his fault, because even when he made this plan with Oliver he’d been holding on to the foolish notion that maybe they just wouldn’t have to tell Joe ever even though he should have known that had about a cold gun’s chance in Hell of working.

So he darts out from around the other vigilante, hands splayed wide. “Nothing, Joe! I mean nothing bad. He was just—I was—we’re seeing each other.”

His foster father takes a step back like he’s been slapped. “You wanna try explaining that again? In a way that’s not gonna make me go for my gun.”

“Joe!” He’s shocked, dismayed, and furious all at once. “You’re overreacting!”

“He’s not the first cop,” is muttered behind him, the other man’s breath tickling the hairs at the back of his neck. Joe starts forward again, but Barry blocks him.

“Think that says more about you, Queen!”

“Joe, don’t! Just, let’s talk, ok? Come on.” Barry starts basically manhandling the detective into the treadmill room. This is his problem, no one else’s, and he’ll be damned if he lets Oliver down just because his foster father can’t accept the fact that he is a grown adult.

“No,” is the first thing out of Joe’s mouth once he’s got the door shut behind them. Barry whirls around.

“No? No? When did I ask you?” Barry drags both hands through his hair in an effort to calm himself down. “Joe, we’ve been over this. I know you feel like Oliver has done things as the Arrow that you don’t approve of, but this has nothing to do with it.”

“No, it doesn’t,” the man. “But it has everything to do with Oliver Queen.”

“Who you don’t approve of,” Barry guess dryly. They’ve managed to avoid this argument ever since the cop learned the archer’s identity via a policy of Barry not asking and Joe not saying. Which bears a striking resemblance to how they handled the tricky subject of Henry Allen the fourteen years before the other man finally believed him, and it frustrates him even more now. Because if Joe would just open his eyes he’d realize that the version of Oliver he’d built up in his mind—the crazy vigilante who didn’t have a heart much less a sense of right and wrong—didn’t exist. “Joe, you still don’t even know him!”

“I know that he’s closer to my son than I’d like—a hell of a lot closer,” the man maintains, pinning his gaze to the spot where only to recently Oliver’s lips had touched his skin. He has to resist the impulse to place his hand over it. “Look, I’ve accepted that you’ve got friends in Star and that, well, when it comes down to it they’ve been there for you. But Queen…damnit, Barry, I thought he was straight!”

He can feel his throat closing up because no, there’s no way, this can’t be why Joe’s mad. He works under Captain Singh, he went to the man’s wedding! “And you have a problem with that?”

Joe flinches, and his look softens as he seems to take in the barely-suppressed tremble to Barry’s limbs, and the way he’s furiously blinking to beat back the stinging at the corners of his eyes. “No. No, of course not, Bear. You know that’s not what matters to me.” He takes a couple steps closer, placing his hands on Barry’s shoulders. “I want you to be happy, whoever you’re with.”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest attempting to hold it all in. Maybe, maybe they’ll be ok. Maybe he can make Joe believe he is happy, and the cop will just accept that.

But he’s thrown for a loop when his father says, “That’s why I guess I was…counting on Queen being straight. Cause I could see how much you liked him.”

Barry blinks. “What?”

Joe shakes his head, stepping out and looking out at the room. “Well you couldn’t shut up about the damn Vigilante before you even met him. Then he showed up here and the way you were smiling at him. And good Lord, when Wells and I were telling you to stay away from him—you’d think I was banning you from your boyfriend!” He nearly looks like he’s going to laugh, but a frown comes to his face instead. “When I found out it was Queen under that hood, well, I thought that’d be the end of it. The man’s notorious with the ladies. Figured the whole thing would just blow over.”

“But- but that was over a year ago,” Barry hastens to remind the other man weakly. “We only just started this—started seeing each other last month.”

“Well I’d hope you haven’t been keeping this from me for over a year,” the detective remarks, then sighs. “Look, Barry, I can’t tell you who to…be involved with. But I can do my best to look out for you by telling you what I think.”

“Joe—”

The other man raises a hand. “Let me finish, Barry. You’re right, I don’t know Queen all that well. But I know he has a reputation for how he treats the people he’s seeing, and it ain’t good.”

“That reputation is based on stuff that happened years ago,” Barry states. “It’s ridiculously outdated and you know it. Besides, with us it’s—it’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh. Just promise me, son, promise me, you’re not gonna let yourself get hurt, alright? I may be able to set aside what he’s done in the past but there’ll be nowhere he can hide if he breaks your heart.”

The concept of Oliver Queen breaking his heart might have made him laugh in any other situation, but under Joe’s paternal gaze he simply swallows heavily. “He won’t, Joe. He can’t.”

And Joe gives a disbelieving snort like there’s something inherently funny and wrong in what Barry’s just said, but all the reply he makes is, “We’ll see.” Then he’s heading for the door.

Barry’s anxious to try and head him off, but Joe only stops out in the cortex and fixes the now-changed Oliver with a hard stare. “I’m keeping my eye on you, Queen.”

Oliver nods, lips pressed together in a tight frown, and his eyes track the detective as Joe makes his way out of the lab.

There’s a heavy silence left in his wake, at least until Cisco breaks it with, “Ohhhhkay, could’ve gone better. Does anybody else feel like the oxygen’s finally come back into the room? Cause that was—you know what? I’m gonna go see if Harry needs some help with something.”

Caitlin favors him with a pitying smile before grabbing up her purse and quickly departing after the engineer, probably going in search of Jay.

“Oliver, I—” he stops himself, remembering the cameras. The lab is really not a good place for this. The older man simply tilts his head towards the exit and makes his way out of the cortex without any confirmation. Barry cringes, but hurries after, falling into step. They walk in silence until they round the corner of the building and come upon Oliver’s bike.

“I should’ve figured something like this was gonna happen,” he starts again, confident they’re alone. “But Joe knows now, and I told him—”

“Barry I really don’t have time for this right now,” Oliver cuts him off, and it’d seem irritated if he couldn’t tell how uncomfortable the other man looks. “It’s getting late and if I want to make it over to Samantha’s…”

“No, no, I get it. Go ahead,” Barry urges. “I just wanted you to know that we’re still on. For this, I mean.”

Oliver looks at him with some confused mix of uncertainty and disbelief, and he feels like he ought to do something. Hug him, maybe. If they really were dating and he’d just defended the man to his own father, he would. But they’re not, and so his arms twitch at his side uselessly. At last Oliver seems to collect himself, swinging one leg over the bike and gunning the engine, and Barry’s forced to back up.

Feeling oddly bereft, he watches the man drive off before beginning his own walk home. He doesn’t feel much like running right now.

---

“Are you ok? Are you even listening to me?” William’s voice snaps him out of the stupor he’s in, and Oliver gives a guilty start.

“No. No, I’m sorry, William.” What the hell is wrong with him? He should be focused on the little time he’s allowed to have with his son, not mulling over what just happened back at STAR labs between Barry and Joe. Even if the two are related. After all, Barry wouldn’t currently be having problems with his foster father if he wasn’t helping Oliver to be a better one himself.

“Are you ok?” The boy asks again, and he can’t help a smile at the other’s clear concern. He wonders what side of the family he got that from. Probably not his.

“Afraid not,” he answers. It’s the least he can do not to lie to him about even this small thing. “A friend of mine’s in trouble, and I think it might be my fault.”

William turns around in his chair, eager it seems for any sort of distraction from the math worksheet he’s currently working on. “Is he hurt?”

“No.” Not physically, at least. Oliver’s not exactly sure what emotional state he’d left the other man in.

But William sounds very sure of himself when he says, “I bet he’s ok, then. And even if it’s your fault, he’ll probably forgive you. You’re a good friend, Oliver.”

Oliver has to try a couple times to get his voice to cooperate and answer, “Thanks, William. That means a lot. You almost done with the math?”

The kid’s shoulders slump. “Yeah.” Fortunately William likes math a little more than science and he’s quick to finish it. “So what am I gonna do about the science fair?”

Oh, right. He hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Barry about the details of that. Oliver suppresses a grimace, and leads in with, “Well it actually has something to do with sports. You like those, buddy.” He knows Samantha’s got him enrolled in soccer at least.

And the boy does perk up a bit at that. “Yeah! Do you need me to get my ball?”

“No, it’s a different kind of sport. I’d have to teach it to you. That ok?” William nods enthusiastically, which elicits a brief smile from him before he continues, “My friend was supposed to go over the science part of it with me.” He pauses, thinking it over. It’s not as if he’s already been asking enough of Barry this past month without this project thrown on top. “But I might have to do the research in this one. I’ll tell you more about it then. Maybe tomorrow when we go to the park.”

“Is it your friend that’s in trouble? You looked kinda sad again,” William points out.

“Um, yeah. But don’t worry about it, buddy, we can just—”

“Why can’t he come with us?” The kid inquires, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You can make sure he’s ok and I can make sure I get an A on this project. My mom’s gonna ground me if I fail, Oliver, so I gotta do the best I can on this.”

“I can see you have a lot of trust in my abilities,” he has to remark wryly, but relents under the pout his son fixes him with, “alright, I’ll check if he’s free.”

William and I were going to start on the project tomorrow. The park around noon. Could use some help.

He sends the text trying not to think about it too much, or how really he should have opened up with an apology of some kind. But before he can do anything about that mistake, his phone’s already buzzing three times in quick succession.

Yeah, sounds great!

I can go out tonight to get some kid-friendly gear for William.

Unless you already got it?

Oliver’s grateful the other man thought of it; he hadn’t been too sure where to look. Still, he sends back,

Save the receipt. I’m reimbursing you.

And actually, we’re going closer to eleven.

His belated attempt at subterfuge isn’t going to work this time, however. Nearly a second after he’s gotten that message out, Barry’s replied.

Haha, thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll be there at noon, promise.

It’s actually closer to a quarter past by the time the speedster is spotted coming towards them. “You’re—”

“I know, I know,” the younger man acknowledges, jogging the last steps. He’s carrying a duffle bag with him and wearing a broad smile, which he’s more than relieved to see. It seems in arranging this meet-up with William in tow, they can go on avoiding the discussion the confrontation with Joe yesterday is begging for.

“It’s fine. Barry, this is William. William, this is my friend, Barry Allen.”

“Oh. Hi,” says William, looking more than a little disappointed. He looks up at Oliver. “I thought we were gonna meet the Flash.”

“Wha-what?” Barry does some mix of choking on air and laughing.

“Oliver’s best friends with the Flash, he said so,” William brags. “He said the Flash is one of the best people he knows.”

“Oh, did he?” Barry’s grin turns absolutely exultant as he glances Oliver’s way, and he squeezes his eyes shut a moment knowing that he will never live this down, ever, for the rest of his life.

“The Flash is probably busy, buddy,” Oliver mutters. “And Barry’s just as good a friend. Plus he’s helping you with your project.”

“Yeah, ok,” the boy agrees. “So what are we doing? Oliver says I get to learn a new sport.”

“That’s right. It’s a really cool one, too.” He starts to rummage around in the bag, holding it up high and angled away from William, and Oliver suspects there’s more than just the gear for this project in there. He takes a couple steps over and holds the bag up for the other man, who flashes him another bright smile before finally retrieving a small child-proof bow. “Here you go!”

“Wow! Just like Speedy!”

“Like Speedy?” Oliver echoes incredulously, and Barry really is laughing now.

“Uh-huh! She wears red, just like the Flash! Red’s my favorite color.”

“I guess you liked Arsenal, too, huh?” He grumbles and there might just be tears in Barry’s eyes as the boy nods up and down. Neither of them are funny or cute, he hopes they know.

But Barry finally clears his throat and says, “Well, you know, the Green Arrow did help train both of them. And I hear he’s best friends with the Flash, so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Even if he did shoo—”

“Why don’t we get started?” Oliver says loudly, shooting Barry with a mere look this time. And to think he was just about to thank him. Typical. “Archery isn’t easy, William, so you’re going to need plenty of practice.” He takes out the fold-up target and goes to set it up a proper distance away, not all that far for this first outing. Barry’s doing his best to get William kitted out in the rest of the stuff. He’s even managed to find a kid-sized quiver for the boy to sling over a shoulder. They’re both holding the bow wrong, though. Oliver rolls his eyes and heads back over to fix that travesty.

“Alright, William, you want to place you one hand here, and then line to bow up—right, like that. Now first we’re gonna practice nocking the arrow, ok? We’re not gonna shoot it yet.” He gets it out for the kid, then crouches back down at his side.

It takes a few tries and a lot of irritated huffs on William’s part before he’s got the arrow positioned correctly. “Ok, that’s great, perfect,” he praises, knowing the kid needs to hear that more than criticism. He’s only nine, after all.

“My arm’s sore,” the child complains.

“You’re just using a new muscle. It’ll get used to it as you practice and soon it shouldn’t hurt anymore, I promise.”

“Ok, are you ready for the science part?” Barry asks, dropping into a crouch on William’s other side, who scrunches his nose up but nods anyway. “So you see how you’ve got the arrow on the bow a little to the left? Science is going to explain how you’ll get it to hit the target that’s straight ahead when you’re shooting the arrow from an angle. See, when you release it, the bowstring is going to sort of shake a little. And that in turn causes the arrow also kind of vibrate in turn as it flies off the bow. That deflection is going to actually make it straighten out midflight and,” the scientist points forward, “hit the target. Make sense?”

“Kinda.”

“Ok, well that’s the simple explanation. The full one involves a lot of equations and stuff we can go over later. For now, why don’t you give the practical application a try?”

William looks to him, and Oliver nods encouragingly. Screwing up his face in determination, the boy lets his first arrow fly. It falls to the ground about a foot short of the target.

“Hey!”

“That’s ok, that was just the first try. Happens to everybody. We just got to make sure you’re pulling back far enough on the string, but not too hard, ok?”

William huffs again but takes the next arrow from him. They get through the whole quiver with only a handful hitting anywhere on the target. His son is still jumping up and down in excitement and Oliver can’t even suppress his own prideful grin. The kid runs to collect the arrows without even being told and he’s feeling pretty confident that this will really work. They’ve got a whole month to perfect his technique, after all.

“I’m wondering if maybe he’s inherited some talent there,” Barry remarks, and he straightens back up to stand with the other man.

“You should know better than me that’s not how it works.”

“Ok, then I guess he’s got a really good teacher.”

Oliver looks down for a moment with a smile. “Thanks for coming out here with us.”

Barry shrugs. “It was my day off.”

“I don’t know what I can do to make up for all this,” he continues nonetheless. “You’ve agreed to so much for me, Barry, and I just want you to know if it ever gets to be too much, if you need out, I would never hold that against you. I care about you, about us, and I know this has—”

But suddenly the younger man is reaching out and fisting Oliver’s jacket to drag him in and seal their lips together. It’s a clumsy mess, because he’s stunned and just sort of not moving, but Barry has a firm grip and his eyes shut and he isn’t moving away, mouth hot and wet and pressed insistently to his own, so the only thing he can do once he’s recovered is tilt his head slightly to slot their mouths together and—oh that’s a kiss.

Barry has lips that a soft and full, the kind that are delicious to caress with his own, and they move against his in a way that has him grabbing at the younger man to pull him closer, chests brushing. And when that gets him a gasp of surprise, it’s sheer instinct to poke his tongue out and trace over the bottom one before sucking it in between his own. Barry makes some muffled sound against him, and he wants to hear more.

But the younger man pulls off abruptly with a pop and they stand there blinking at each other for a moment. “Sorry,” Barry pants. “Sorry, saw Iris—she looked like she was gonna head over and I knew you wouldn’t want her to see, so I, I just sort of…” he gestures vaguely with his hands, but Oliver gets it, reality flooding back in as he processes.

“Right, uh, good thinking. Thanks,” is the best he can manage.

“So you’re those kind of friends,” William’s voice to the side seems to snap them both out of it, and they each back up a couple steps from each other. “It’s ok, I get it. My mom has those sometimes.”

“Uh-huh?” Oliver says in response, for lack of anything better. “Looks like you got all those arrows, buddy. Let’s try it again.”

He and Barry focus purely on William for the rest of the afternoon, and exchange a very short, regular goodbye at the park entrance. Unfortunately, once he’s dropped his son off with Samantha, Oliver’s got a whole bike ride back to Star to dwell on what the hell just happened.

---

Barry thinks he might just be in a little bit of trouble. Not with Joe; he can handle his foster father’s grumbling and disapproving looks for the next few days, having trained for years to outlast the other man’s moods. Before long he’ll be back to greeting him at the breakfast table with a smile and asking what he thinks about the latest case or ball game. He’s got Wally to focus on anyway, since Oliver is now back in Star and therefore out of sight, out of mind.

But not out of Barry’s mind. What he’d suggested as an easy solution to the other vigilante’s dilemma has instead decided to consume his every waking thought, and some of his sleeping ones, too.

Those are a welcome enough change from the nightmares about Zoom that had plagued his subconscious ever since that disastrous encounter. In the dreams, he’s with Oliver, maybe walking down a street or one of those paths in the park, or sometimes sitting at a table to dinner. It’s relaxed and happy, the mood an ambiguous sort of friendly camaraderie.

But then something shifts, and he’ll look in the other man’s eyes and feel compelled, one or the both of them leaning in, and well, the next part gets pretty vivid considering he knows exactly what Oliver’s lips feel like against his now. Even if the Oliver in his dreams sometimes turns more forward, crowding him back against a tree and slipping his tongue into his mouth to plunder and claim just like Barry needs him to—

He sits bolt upright in the dark of his bedroom, heart thudding away in his chest, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, and a certain…stiffness…between his legs.

“No,” Barry mouths in mute horror. But throwing the covers off of himself reveals the fabric of his boxers tented in what is unmistakably a hard-on. A hard-on for Oliver Queen.

What the hell is wrong with him, he wasn’t even fantasizing! Not really, anyway. Just dreaming about their current situation, the situation where Barry, as a friend, is supposed to be helping Oliver, who is his friend.

But Barry is also a man who can admit that he has a very attractive friend. He has lots of those, actually, but he’s not pretending to date most of them, holding hands and one-on-one dinners and kissing. God, he’d nearly gone weak in the knees in the park the other day.

And recalling that really isn’t helping calm him down. Barry squeezes his eyes shut in some attempt to will his growing erection away, but it’s like doing that turns on the movie projector in his mind which seems intent on playing Oliver Jonas Queen’s Greatest Hits—which include but are not limited to the blue of his eyes, the warmth of his smiles, and the sound of his laugh—and Barry gives a full-body shudder before rolling onto his side and curling in on himself.

So he can admit that Oliver is attractive. And that he’s maybe been very aware of that for quite some time. Maybe he’s even checked him out once or twice, but who hasn’t? It’s practically a prerequisite for meeting the man!

But he’s always done his best to not let that appreciation affect his relationship with Oliver, and now that he’s in a relationship with Oliver—albeit a fake one—that’s all the more crucial. He can’t afford to pop a woody every time they kiss, for crying out loud. Of course, with his increased metabolism, blood flow, and overall sensitivity he can count on his body betraying him the longer he goes without, well, a real physical relationship. The only way he can keep helping Oliver without complicating things any further…is if he takes care of himself.

Barry takes a deep breath before flopping onto his back again. He slips a hand down underneath the waistband of his boxers and hisses in reaction to the cool air on his heated flesh, then promptly has to stifle a groan with the heel of his free hand as the first wraps around himself. Not really liking it dry, he only gives a couple experimental tugs before scrambling for the bottle of lotion he thinks is still in his bedside drawer. God it’s been too long since he’s done this.

He’s hoping for that reason this will be quick as he shimmies out of his underwear and returns to the task at hand. His strokes, however, are stilted and hesitant under that methodical thinking. Barry grimaces and wracks his brain for something more pleasant.

It doesn’t have far to search. An image of Oliver comes to mind, standing tall with his old Arrow suit hanging open at the front, showing off those hard-earned abs and the scars detailing his journey to the stoic vigilante he’d become and Barry’s cock twitches and hardens further in his hold. He has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to avoid moaning out loud as he falls back against the pillows, hand picking up the pace. His free hand sneaks down to squeeze and roll his balls, body crying out for every bit of relief he can give it, and a muffled moan slips past anyway.

The new suit, though, with those short sleeves…God, he starts vibrating just thinking about it. Cold or not, it leaves Oliver’s biceps on full display, flexing as he pulls back on the bowstring, and he tries not to imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around him because he already knows and that’s off-limits for this shameful indulgence because that’s—

They’re hugging, in his mind’s eye, and Barry chokes on a sob as his strokes turn rough and his hips start to buck up of their own accord, fucking the tight circle of his hand and smearing lotion and precome all over his length. Oliver is strong, and yet so unsure in those first moments as he coaxes him into it, the reward being that now the other man will hold him readily, kiss him like his life depends on it because it does in a way and it is so wrong of Barry to be selfish like this, but he’s close, so close, and he just needs something to tip him over that edge.

Oliver’s voice, low and gravelly in his ear just like that moment in the labs, murmurs, “Barry.” His balls tighten and draw up as he gives a twist of his hand at the base of his cock and like that it’s over with a cry of the other man’s name into the pillow as he comes hard all over himself, thrusting into his hand through the release until he softens.

Barry pants heavily for a minute trying to come down from the intense high. Eventually, however, he makes a face before sitting up to remove his shirt, sticky with sweat and come and he is going to need to be careful about when he does his laundry next. He does his best to wipe the rest of his body clean, not letting his thoughts stray as he handles the more sensitive areas. Two rounds in one night would frankly be stretching his excuses, and his pride, pretty thin.

At the least he seems settled, back in his body and his mind. He’d been admittedly hasty in concocting this plan with Oliver, for various reasons, but now he thinks he’s provided for all the contingencies. They’ve proven believable, Joe is aware of it and grudgingly accepting the fact that Barry can make his own life choices whether he thinks they’re stupid or not, and Barry has his own situation quite literally in hand. Oliver might worry he’s indebted to Barry in a way he can’t repay, but Barry’s libido is being more than compensated. Which the other man can never know.

He’d never had to lie to Oliver ever since they became friends…but this is necessary. For William, and for Oliver, and for his and Oliver’s continued friendship even. Barry’s just trying to protect all of them. Oliver would have to understand that.

He pulls the covers back up over himself and turns over, but his sleep is fitful the rest of the night.

---

“So I’ve been thinking,” Thea says with little preamble one night, and Oliver glances over at her sprawled out the couch.

“Never has that meant good things, but go ahead.”

She chucks a throw pillow at him. Though her aim is sure he manages to duck. “I want to have everybody over. The last party we tried throwing was crashed, so that doesn’t count.”

“It was pretty fun until that point,” Oliver can’t help defending. He fondly remembers the mingling between their team and the one from Central, Cisco joking with his sister on the couches, Barry’s cheeky little grin as he finished off Oliver’s toast with both drinks in hand—good Lord, no wonder people decided they were seeing each other, he wouldn’t have been laughing if anybody else tried that gag. There’s just something about Barry that’s infectious.

Thea, thankfully, is speaking again so he refocuses. “Right well I was thinking something a little more low-key than fighting for our lives for once. This place is too quiet anyway.” He glances around the loft, but he knows it’s less to do with the actual noise level in here and more with how Thea hates being here alone anymore. He’s been trying to sell the place but the price and multiple break-ins have provided more than a few deterrents.

So he nods in agreement. “Yeah, we could probably all use it. Shame we didn’t do something while Sara was in town.”

“Yeah. But Lyla says Baby Sara’s been learning more words. I wanna see if I can get her to say Aunt Thea.” She’s grinning in delight and he wants to return it but there’s a pang in his chest at the thought that Thea is an aunt. Has been for some time, and was just as unaware of it as he was. Yet another thing he’s having to keep from her. It seems like each time he comes clean about everything another situation forces him into a lie.

“So, drinks with the team then?”

“Sounds good. And you could invite your boyfriend,” she says in a tone that is ridiculously nonchalant so as to be obvious.

He raises an eyebrow. “I could, huh?”

Thea sits up. “I still barely know him! And anyway, he’s the Flash, it’s not like we’re that far out of his way.”

Oliver shakes his head, but is already resigned. He’s honestly surprised his sister’s waited this long to spring this on him. And there’s no excuse he can give her to keep it from happening. So he simply says, “I’ll see if he’s available.”

That’s how he ends up cracking open a beer while letting the chatter of his teammates wash over him. He’s kept close to the door because he’s waiting—and naturally about fifteen minutes after he was supposed to, there’s a knock signifying Barry’s arrived.

“Hey,” the younger man greets, darting in to plant a quick kiss to his cheek and cheeks a rosy pink as he pulls back. It’s only then that the others notice him.

“Barry!” Felicity comes over to wrap the speedster in a hug, then pulling him further into the room. “I cannot believe I haven’t seen you since you and Oliver—you have to tell me everything.”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure how much there is to tell,” Barry laughs nervously, sending a panicked look over his shoulder at Oliver. But it’s Lyla who interrupts.

“Good to see you again, Barry. I don’t think you’ve met Sara yet, have you?”

“Oh no, I haven’t. She’s adorable! Hi Sara,” he coos at the infant, who giggles back at him, waving her little fists.

“Hi!”

Barry beams, delighted. “How many words can she say?”

“Seems like more every day,” Dig comments. “Get you a drink?”

“Water, if that’s ok, I can’t actually get drunk,” Barry reveals, which is actually something Oliver hadn’t known. It’s a good thing he’d let Diggle ask rather than presuming to get one himself.

“Water is more than ok,” Laurel answers wryly. “Come on, I don’t think you saw the kitchen last time.” He thinks he can trust the lawyer not to interrogate Barry while they’re gone, but his eyes still track their movement out of sight.

“There’s chips and dip on the counter,” Thea calls after, “Ollie said you need a lot of food.”

“Thank you!”

Half the bowl’s gone by the time Oliver’s crossed over to the main room, and before he can take a spot on the couch it’s already occupied by the other man. Barry looks up at him with innocent eyes, then scoots over slightly and pats the available space. He has to hand it to the younger man, he’s doing a great job maintaining appearances. They haven’t been under quite this close a scrutiny yet.

So he drops down next to the speedster, thighs brushing and an arm laid over the back of the couch. Lyla, perched on the arm of John’s chair, raises her glass in a silent salute and he offers her a half-smile in return.

“So what have you all been up to aside from helping reincarnated hawkpeople defeat an immortal psychopath?” Barry opens the conversation up with. “CEO Smoak?”

“Doing well, thanks,” their resident businesswoman replies. “Palmer Tech’s been a surprising amount of fun when I’m not having to stop the board from firing people against my wishes. Actually I’ve really gotten to enjoy running things myself, rather than running everything and being expected to fetch coffee,” she finishes with a pointed look in his direction.

“I don’t seem to recall you really getting the coffee,” he remarks airily.

Thea is looking between the two of them with a smirk as she weighs in with, “Judging by my own experience taking over my brother’s business, I’m sure you’re truly the woman for the job.”

“If I had one, I’d drink to that,” Dig concurs.

“Sorry Johnny, you just make such a good driver,” Lyla says completely unapologetically, before dipping down to press a kiss to their daughter’s forehead where she sits in the man’s lap.

“Wow, you all do not hold back,” Barry observes with some mixture of amusement and pity for the ones nursing their wounds.

“No we do not,” Laurel confirms, giving Thea’s shoulder a squeeze as she adds, “I hope we didn’t give you the idea Oliver was really running things over here.”

Oliver chooses to sip at his drink rather than deign that with a response, and the man at his side leans closer slightly as he offers, “Hey, I didn’t think you were that bad a CEO when we met. Very convincing.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly with a small smile, some of his pride mercifully salvaged.

“Oh yeah, billionaire by day, saving the city by night, right Barry?” Felicity asks with certain gleam to her eyes before finishing off her drink.

The speedster blinks, then blushes a bright red. “Oh, yeah, something like that,” he answers with a weak chuckle, clearly trying to play the moment off.

But Oliver slips his arm off the backrest to wrap around the other’s shoulders, keeping him in place before he can do much more than duck his head. “What’s this?”

“You know, I said, back when the four of us first met,” She reveals with a grin, motioning to the two of them on the couch and John, “that Barry totally wanted to date you. And here we are.”

“Aw, that’s so cute!” Thea looks positively delighted, and Oliver can admit to feeling much the same. After everything William had said to the other vigilante last week he’s overdue for some of his own ammunition, and the way Barry’s refusing to meet anybody’s eyes is priceless.

“Have to wonder if it’s everything you hoped it be,” he can’t help teasing, yet he thinks his breath catches a little in his throat when the other man lifts his gaze, revealing something soft, even vulnerable, to Oliver alone.

“You’d be surprised.”

It doesn’t matter to him that it should be the right moment for this, it just is the right moment for it, and his grip shifts to the back of Barry’s neck to brush at the soft hairs there as he tilts his head in just the right way to catch the other’s lips with his own. He hadn’t put much thought into the physical side of things when he’d first agreed to this admittedly crazy plans, but there’s no denying certain side-benefits to this whole arrangement; Barry’s lips are ridiculously kissable, a temptation that Oliver had never thought to want for himself before all this had begun. But the way Barry turns his body and presses in towards him on the couch, hands sliding up to hold onto Oliver’s shoulders as his mouth opens under the request of his tongue. He’s dizzy with the thought that this is his privilege, even if purely by fake design, and he’s both terrified and desperate to know just how far Barry would be willing to let this go—

Thea manages to actually hit him this time with the pillow due to his intense preoccupation, and he feels dazed as he disconnects from the other man.

“Making out on the couch in the middle of the party,” Laurel remarks wryly, “some things never change.”

“If you guys decide to get an actual room here later, do me a favor and let me know in advance,” is Thea’s request. Felicity, Lyla, and Diggle are all watching with varying states of understanding, even if the latter is shaking his head at the pair of them.

“Sorry, sorry,” Barry gasps, sliding to the opposite end of the couch out of his reach with burning ears. Oliver clears his throat and excuses himself to the restroom. Rather than return to the others, however, he grabs a second beer and steps out onto the balcony. The cool air washes over him and he’s suddenly aware there’s a light flush to his skin, though it’s already receding. Clearly things with Barry, they…affect him. More than he was prepared for. And that’s a problem.

Barry Allen has been dangerous to him from the moment he walked right into his life. Admittedly back then, Oliver considered him so for all the wrong reasons. But by the time he’d really caught on to what exactly Barry was capable of, the speedster had already snuck his way past the majority of his natural defenses and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad about it.

He knows Barry is his friend, his partner, and that those lines were never meant to blur. Oliver cherishes the connection they already have too much, and if this situation he’s gotten them both in is going to threaten it, he has to call it off. It’d be just like the younger man to want to stick it out for his sake because of obligation. But is it obligation that has Barry smiling at him like no one else ever has, returning his kisses with a growing passion that matches his own?

Barry makes things better, makes him happy miraculously, makes him comfortable enough to openly embrace and show affection towards in front of his closest friends and family, and maybe that’s why he’d so easily given in to going along with this ruse because to him it’s not a ruse.

“You’re really in love with him, aren’t you?” It’s Dig’s voice that cuts into his reverie, and Oliver turns to face him as the other man joins him out on the balcony.

“I’m dating him, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, well, I was half-sure there was something else going on and you’d just gotten the kid to cover for you,” his teammate remarks, hitting uncomfortably close to the mark. “And even if you did, pretty sure it’s gotten away from you, Oliver.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, John. It’s a fairly new relationship. We’re taking it as it goes.”

“Uh-huh,” Dig says, sounding unconvinced. “That’s why you’re out here brooding like you just messed up instead of inside with the rest of us.” He frowns, but has nothing to say. “You need to decide what’s really going on between you two, Oliver. Before somebody gets hurt.”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Barry if I could avoid it,” he insists.

“I know. And that’s why I’m worried about you.” Diggle fixes him with a somber look before heading back inside. Oliver braces his elbows back on the railing and stares unseeing at the city skyline.

At least until the door slides back open. “Oliver? Dig and Lyla took Sara home and I think Felicity and Laurel are getting ready to head out if you wanted to say goodnight.” He can practically feel the speedster’s eyes trailing up and down his hunched form, and senses more than sees him appear next to him a moment later. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I was just thinking about things. Us.”

“Well that sounds like the beginning to every breakup scene ever,” the younger man comments with something of a nervous chuckle. “You giving up on me already?”

“Not unless you want me to,” he murmurs, then looks to the side. Barry’s watching him with uncertainty, but as soon as he knows Oliver’s turned his focus on him he straightens up slightly, resolute. There’s absolutely no one to pretend for here, yet he finds himself inexorably drawn in yet again, hands clenched at his sides to avoid reaching for the other man like he wants, if Barry would just say the word.

“I promised once that I wasn’t gonna leave you,” is what comes out of the speedster’s mouth. “And I mean that this time.”

Oliver shuts his eyes, allows himself the space of a deep breath. It’s not fair of him to feel disappointment—Barry is giving him everything he’s asked already, how can he expect more? “Then let’s go.”

With an arm around Barry’s waist and a smile plastered on his face to bid the others farewell, he continues to maintain the ruse.

---

“How come the G is littler than the other letter?” William sits at his elbow at the picnic table they’ve commandeered, watching closely as Barry shows him how to write the equation. It had taken some coaxing to get him settled down for this—the boy much preferring the more active part of the project—but after much cajoling and a promise of ice cream on Oliver’s part they’d been able to get started.

“Well it’s how the notation works, but basically we are saying that the moment of inertia, I, about the center of mass G, is about an axis. And in the diagram that’s going to point out of the page, see?”

“What’s the funny a?”

Barry does a double-take at the page before chuckling. “It’s not an a, it’s symbol for alpha. We use symbols in math and science sometimes as placeholders for numbers. So α here means the angular acceleration of the arrow. Which is the change in speed that it’s going to rotate per a designated unit of time. Make sense?”

William makes a face at him. “Kind of.”

Barry casts his mind around for an easier question. “Which way is the arrow going to rotate?”

“Counter clockwise!” William supplies the answer he does know with enthusiasm.

“Alright!” He raises his hand and the kid high fives him. “Now you want to give writing this out a try? We can practice so you get the symbols right on the poster board.” William takes the pencil and his tongue pokes out of his teeth in concentration as he writes the symbol for sigma. “You’re doing great. I know this is the boring part, but being able to explain the science behind all the arrowing is where you’ll get the grade you want. And it’ll make you a better shot if you understand it.”

“Really?”

“Really! Pretty cool, huh?”

“Science?” William scoffs and Barry tries not to look too disappointed. “You’re kind of weird, Barry. But that’s ok, you’re still my friend.”

“Thanks, William,” he replies, oddly touched. Barry hadn’t put much thought into his own relationship with Oliver’s son when he’d been asked to help with his science fair project, but he’s rather quickly grown attached, and it’s gratifying to know that his own company is appreciated. He’s always liked kids but William’s his first experience really getting to know one now that he himself is an adult. Just one more thing Oliver’s quite literally brought into his life. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Well Oliver’s my friend, and he likes you a lot,” the boy says matter-of-factly. “You like him too, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he manages with an uneasy smile. Somehow talking about this to a kid, and Oliver’s kid at that, is more difficult than with his own friends and family. It’s easy enough to roll with Cisco or Iris’ teasing remarks as some kind of big absurd joke, but there’s something earnest in the child’s gaze that makes his words hard to deny. Even in his own head.

“You kissed him,” William points out. “Mommy says that’s what people do when they really like somebody.” His face scrunches up in distaste. “I think it’s gross.”

“It’s not for everybody,” Barry acknowledges. “But yeah, I guess I like Oliver. It’d be hard not to, I mean, he’s always been there for me when I’ve needed him. And he’s, well he’s such a good person, even though bad things have happened to him. He’s understanding. It’s just so easy to talk to him,” he sighs, fiddling with the pencil in his hands as he tries to find the right words for his frankly beyond complicated situation with Oliver. “I thought it was a privilege for him to just consider me his friend, but now sometimes…”

Sometimes when Oliver favors him with those softer smiles in front of their friends it can’t help but feel real like in some other place or time—Earth-3 maybe, he thinks with some humor—this might have been, instead the act it is. And instead of being bothered by the idea, he’s…intrigued. Captivated.  He feels like he’s slipping into that other-life when they kiss, because no cover-kiss should hold that much passion barely-restrained. And maybe that’s his fault, because he’s never been any good at controlling his emotions and he should’ve realized from the start he was setting himself up for a fall.

His smile, he knows, is sad as he finally answers, “I think I like him too much.” Because even he knows it’s impossible to believe Oliver Queen could like him the way that Barry, well, is pretty much in love with him.

But he’s startled from his melancholy thoughts when William leaps up from the table, running across the grass. “Oliver! Thank God you’re back, Barry was getting all mushy.”

Barry whirls around to see that Oliver has indeed returned with three ice cream cones, and he blanches momentarily, hoping his voice hadn’t carried too far. William helps himself to his own, and Oliver ruffles the kid’s hair affectionately.

“He was?” Oliver glances over at him with a bemused grin, probably filing this moment away to tease him about at a future date. Barry just shrugs helplessly and tries not to blush. At the least, all Oliver does once he’s ushered the boy back to the table is hand Barry his own ice cream and then lean over to look at what they’ve been working on. The other man braces one hand on his shoulder, and Barry can’t help but to move into the touch slightly.

“I wrote these ones,” William is stating proudly, pointing out his handiwork. “Barry says I’m getting better at the symbols.”

“Better than me, buddy,” is Oliver’s unique brand of praise, staring at the writing like it’s sheer nonsense. He shakes his head, self-depreciation clear in the gesture, and Barry can’t let that stand.

“Well you’ve got both of us beat on languages. Did Oliver tells you he knows Russian, William?”

“Cool!” William stares up at Oliver now with something like awe, and Barry grins, mission accomplished. Even when Oliver squeezes his shoulder and shoots him a look. Like William’s going to put Oliver knowing Russian and the Green Arrow together, honestly.

Barry meets the stare calmly and adds, “And Mandarin.”

“While I appreciate the flattery, Bear,” Oliver starts, but is cut off by his own son.

“I thought mandarin was a fruit. My mom buys them all the time.”

First Barry, then Oliver snorts. His shoulders are shaking with the effort of holding in his laughter and the squeeze of Oliver’s hand feels more like a comfort than a warning this time. “Well there’s different meanings to the word, buddy. You’ve learned about that kind of thing in school, right?”

William nods, but Barry is distracted by his phone buzzing. It’s from Cisco.

Suspected gas leak. Need help evacuating building.

A follow-up text tells him the address, and Barry regrettably has to shrug the other man’s hand off as he stands. “Sorry, um, just got called in. Work thing.” Oliver meets his eyes and nods to show he’s understood. William is pouting, so Barry hands him off the ice cream cone he hadn’t even started. “We can meet up next week to finish the poster board, ok? I’ll see you, William.”

“Bye Barry!”

“Be careful,” Oliver mutters under his breath, almost directly in Barry’s ear as he turns away, and he nearly shivers before managing to throw a confident grin back at him.

“Just another day at the office, Ollie.”

Then he’s jogging a safe distance into the park, out of sight from prying eyes before changing into the suit and making a dash for the apartment building. It’s a high-rise, and several police cars and a couple fire trucks are already parked outside as people come streaming out the doors.

“Flash!” One of his daytime coworkers has spotted him, the officer rushing up to tell him, “There’s a number of people stuck on the upper floors. Elderly and handicapped. They need help getting down to the lobby.”

“I’m on it,” he tells the woman with a nod. Before he can start, however, Caitlin’s voice comes through his com.

“Barry, you need to be careful. Your top speeds could cause sparks that might trigger an explosion. Just get everyone out and try and open as many windows to the outside to air out the building.”

He zips up and around the sides of the building, opening every window that’s unlocked and finally entering through the door to the roof. He slows down considerably now that he’s in the building and begins a floor-to-floor search, with stops in-between each time he finds someone new, running them out down the side and to the crowd of paramedics standing by.

Barry’s only two-thirds of the way down the building, however, when a sudden boom and a rumble shakes the building. He stops. “Guys, what’s happening?”

“Somebody tried to get their car out of the underground garage,” it’s Cisco who answers, sounding increasingly tense as he continues, “it’s setting off a chain reaction. Barry, you need to get out of there now.”

“I haven’t checked the whole building yet. There might still be people inside.”

“Barry!”

“I have to make sure!” He insists before breaking into a true run.

But Barry only makes it two more floors down before another rumble shakes the stairwell he’s running down, and the tremors throw him to the landing below. Or rather, where the landing below is supposed to be.

His insides give a lurch as he’s suddenly in free fall, body twisting midair to try and find something to grab onto. But it’s all crumbling and he can see flames below and then something hard impacts his head before it all goes dark.

---

Oliver checks his watch, keeping one eye on the speedster’s back as he jogs around the bend. “We should probably head out to the front, William, your mom’s on her way to pick you up for soccer practice.”

“Ok!” The kid helps him pack away the papers Barry had him working on and then they walk to the park’s edge, finding a bench to sit on and wait, William playing with his Flash action figure to pass the time. He wonders how excited his son will be once he hears about this latest heroic feat by the Central City hero. Which of course leads Oliver to thinking about Barry himself, a habit he’s developed that is near impossible to shake.

“Hey, William? You said before that Barry was being mushy. Mind telling me what he was talking about?”

William makes a face, but answers, “You. He said lots of stuff, like how the grownups talk in movies. He really likes you, Oliver.”

“You think so?”

“You bet!” William nods with certainty, and Oliver looks down at the ground with a smile. It could be that Barry just felt it important to secure their cover with William, since the kid did see them kiss. Which he’s less embarrassed about than he probably should be.

But William’s still talking. “He thinks he likes you too much.”

Well what the hell was that supposed to mean? Before Oliver can ask, there’s the beep of a car horn. He looks up and gives a wave to Samantha.

“Ok buddy, have fun at soccer.”

“I will. Bye Oliver!”

Oliver sighs heavily as he watches the car pull away. He can either head over to STAR labs to try and catch Barry there, or simply go back to his hotel before deciding where to get dinner. But then a distant boom reaches his ears. He turns sharply back around, watching as a faint wisp of smoke trails into the air.

Other people have stopped what they’re doing to look, some moving away nervously. Oliver begins determinedly marching toward it, pulling out his phone as another boom sounds, louder than the first.

Caitlin picks up on the third ring. “Oliver?”

“Tell me Barry wasn’t in the middle of those explosions I just heard,” he demands.

“There was a gas leak, he was getting people out,” the doctor explains hurriedly, worry clearly evident in her tone. “He was still inside, and the suit’s vitals—” She breaks off for a moment, taking a breath in an effort to calm. “Cisco’s taken the van out there but they’ve set up a perimeter around the building. The structural integrity is still very unsound and I don’t know how we can get to him.”

“I do.” He ends the call, breaking into a run. Following the smoke trail and the sound of sirens, Oliver ducks and dodges through traffic until he’s reached the site of the explosion. Smoke is now pouring out of various windows and the crowds have been pushed back a great distance in front of the building. He runs down a side alley and approaches from the back, where security is far more lax, a couple saw horses set up to ward off any passersby.

The smoke is thick when he finds an entrance, and Oliver pulls his shirt up over his mouth and nose to breathe through, eyes stinging as he picks his way carefully through the ground floor, which is now primarily made up of rubble and small fires. “Barry! Barry!”

There’s no response, but he thinks he can see a dull red color poking out from under some crumbled wood and concrete. Oh God.

He hurries forward now, gritting his teeth together as he works to leverage the debris off the body underneath, and is met with a hauntingly familiar scene. He thinks he might be sick.

Barry is unconscious, at least he prays—and pressing a hand to his neck finds a weakly beating pulse.

But there’s a broken-off steel support beam sticking out from his side, blood soaking the concrete underneath.

Oliver nearly stumbles back at the image, but takes a couple breaths deep as he can with all the smoke to try and center himself. Barry has speed healing. He can lift him up, put pressure on the wound, and get him to the van. Caitlin is ready and waiting back at STAR labs to treat him. He will be fine, he has to be fine. But the longer he waits because of his own useless panic the less likely that outcome will be, so he needs to move, damnit.

He tries to make it one fluid motion, not the make the wound any larger, and he’s thankful Barry’s not aware that all this is happening even if part of him desperately needs the other man to wake up because even in his arms now he feels so still and lifeless. Oliver’s never seen Barry like this before, never bothered to visit him even once during that coma, and he’s glad he didn’t because it frightens him.

He’s stumbling back through the wreckage with the speedster’s body cradled protectively in his arms. Cisco waits just outside, and when he sees them both his eyes widen before he’s running to start the van. Oliver climbs into the back and sets Barry down, using both hands now to press over the hole in his side. The blood flow has already lessened, and might even start to clot by the time they’ve gotten there but Barry is so pale.

“C’mon,” he finds himself muttering as they race and bump over roads. “C’mon, Barry. Just wake up, just- just do that for me. Please.”

He’s still doing that inside his own head, a constant mantra as he sits in the cortex staring at his bloodied hands while Caitlin works in the next room. There’s nothing for him to do, nothing to say, and he knows now the danger has nearly passed, it has to have, but he can’t stop staring.

A hand touches lightly upon his shoulder and his head snaps up while he grabs the person’s wrist with a vice-grip. Iris gasps and flinches and Oliver blanches before letting her go. “Sorry,” he offers guiltily, voice strangely gruff.

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve said something,” the woman excuses. “I just thought maybe you wanted to get cleaned up. I promise, Caitlin will let us know if something’s happening.”

Iris is watching him carefully as he scrubs the blood off his hands, then steps aside to let her wash off her stained wrist. She looks worried. It’s not until she joins him back in the cortex in a chair of her own and takes his hand that she’s worried for him, not about him. Oh.

Caitlin emerges shortly after that. “Everything looks good. I’ve got him on an IV to replenish his nutrients and he’s almost made up for the blood loss. The bandages will need to be checked but other than that we’ll see how he feels when he wakes up.”

Iris smiles with relief as Oliver feels himself relax slightly. “Ok. I’ll let dad know, but I’ve got to get home for dinner. Wally’s staying over.” She’s letting him go and gathering up her purse before he can even think of anything to say, leaving Oliver with Cisco, who’s currently working on the Flash suit with an intense frown, and Caitlin, who settles down in front of one of the computers. Like it’s another day and Barry isn’t recovering from near-death over in the next room. How normal is this for all of them?

It’s another hour before Barry stirs. Oliver’s migrated to leaning against the doorframe and so is the first at his bedside. “Ugh.” The younger man pushes himself up to sitting as he rubs at his eyes. “What happened?”

“Hey, easy,” he says, nervous at Barry moving around too much with the bandages still on. When he places a hand on his shoulder to still him, Barry leans slightly into the touch for a moment before blinking up at him.

“Oliver? But you were with—”

“There he is!” Cisco and Caitlin have been drawn by the noise clearly, and enter the room with smiles. The doctor goes to check Barry’s bandages, so Oliver steps back and watches as she starts unraveling them to reveal fresh, healed-over skin. Like it all never happened. “Dude, my suit is wrecked, just so you know. Not cool.”

Barry winces. “Sorry, dude.” But he sobers as he looks to Caitlin. “The building, did everyone—?”

“No one was left inside,” she tells him with a smile. “Some people were treated for smoke inhalation, but no one was caught in the explosion.”

“Except Barry,” he feels a need to remind. There’s just something so off about the whole thing, how ready Cisco is to joke about the suit and rebuke Barry for it when Oliver only just saw how badly Barry had been wrecked in the explosion.

But Caitlin doesn’t seem to understand, as her face scrunches up in puzzlement. “Well, yes, but he’ll be fine, Oliver. Really, he’s gotten himself into much worse trouble plenty of times.” Barry is now grimacing with his head ducked and that is not what Oliver meant to happen at all.

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t- that it didn’t—” He doesn’t know why he’s arguing the point. All three of them are looking at him oddly now.

Barry’s expression is both concerned as well as confused, however, as he tries to reassure, “I’m ok, Oliver. Really.”

And yeah, he knows that, so can his hands just stop shaking already? This isn’t good, he’s overreacting, he must be, and everyone watching him do so is not helping. “I’m going to go back to my hotel.” Without another word he turns on his heel and heads out of the lab.

Caitlin and Cisco might be able to explain away his actions based on what they think is going on, but Oliver knows this all has just complicated things between himself and Barry one step further. The speedster is no fool, he has to be trying to work out just what was wrong with Oliver back there. How long is he going to be able to keep this going without the younger man realizing the only person Oliver’s putting an act on for is him? And once Barry does…he feels a sense of panic at the thought, not unlike what occurred in that ruin of a high rise.

Oliver makes a note to stop by the hotel bar before heading up to his room. He’s going to need something for his nerves if he’s going to get any sleep tonight.

---

Barry can only watch uncomprehendingly as the archer leaves the room. Once he’s gone, however, his two other friends turn to him.

“Wow, talk about touchy. Have I mentioned I am super glad he’s on our side?” Cisco remarks.

“Is everything ok with you two?” Caitlin asks, seemingly following a different track altogether.

“Um, I- I think so?” Barry stammers, about as thrown as either of them. He’s not sure what to make of the man’s behavior. Oliver’s seen him hurt before, hell, the man shot him with his own arrows once. If he was just playing the concerned-boyfriend card, he certainly sold the performance, but Barry doesn’t get why Oliver would look so…so shattered, like something about all this had jarred something lose inside that he’d been keeping buried. He’s only ever seen the older man with that kind of look twice before; when Lyla had been hospitalized by Harkness and when Barry had handed him the results for William’s paternity test.

“Listen, I should, I should probably go make sure everything’s good,” he decides, sliding out from under the covers. “If that’s ok.”

“Of course,” his personal physician replies. “Really, you’re perfectly stable.”

“Not like you went a round with Zoom or anything,” Cisco points out, and Barry’s smile dims for a moment just thinking about it.

“Yeah,” he laughs shakily. “So, we’re good?”

“Yes, now go,” Caitlin practically shoos him toward the door. He looks at her with some surprise, seeing as she’s usually only this pushy when she’s trying to get him to stay for care.

“Seriously, dude, he needs you more than we do,” is what Cisco tells him, and yeah, if the engineer thinks it’s that bad, he really shouldn’t keep delaying.

“Ok, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He gets changed into his sweats, not really up for anything else, then does some searching on his phone for the address of Oliver’s hotel. Of course, that only gets him to the lobby, since Oliver’s never bothered to tell him his room number.

So Barry walks up to the front desk. “Hi, um, I was wondering if you could tell me the room number of one of your guests?”

“That’s not our policy,” the woman tells him, clearly unimpressed and he probably should have been a little more confident with that request.

“Right, ok. Well, could you maybe call his room? And I could wait down here. His name’s Oliver—”

“Barry?” Oliver himself has just emerged from a room off the side, he thinks it might be the bar, and approaches him at the desk. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you left, and I just sort of thought, I don’t know.” It sounds a little silly now that it’s out there and the other man is standing before him.

But Oliver looks almost resigned as he replies, “Yeah. Come on.” With a hand on Barry’s arm he steers him away from the desk and towards the elevators. The ride up is silent, and by the time they’re walking down a carpeted hall towards the other man’s room Barry still hasn’t figured out what he wants to say. All he really has is you looked worried and upset, and that made me worried and upset about you which…he’s not really sure how Oliver will take, honestly. Sure, they’ve both checked up on each other is moments of distress but that was all mostly before this…relationship. Lately Barry’s been so preoccupied trying to keep how he feels about Oliver to himself that he’s been afraid to have anything close to the relationship—friendship—they already had and the realization of that hurts.

“Remember when you said I could talk to you about anything?” Falls out of his mouth once Oliver’s shut the door of his room. The other man looks back at him and nods. “Then why do I feel like we’re keeping secrets from each other instead?”

Something pained crosses the Star City vigilante’s face. “Barry—”

“I mean what was that earlier, Oliver? You’ve seen me hurt before, you’ve shot me!”

“This was different,” the older man says tightly, as if that settles the matter.

Which means he has to be getting closer to the heart of it all. “How? You heard Caitlin, I’m completely fine, just like those times—”

“Well you weren’t fine when I found you!” Oliver snaps. “Barry, you were- you weren’t even conscious and you were bleeding out and there was this beam.” He takes a shuddering breath.

All Barry can say is, “I didn’t realize you were the one who got me out.” It’s been Caitlin and Cisco, usually, or Joe who comes to get him when he can’t move on his own, and they’ve all worked out a routine. Most of the shock of his injuries has worn off for them, but he thinks he can see how badly it must have looked to Oliver.

But the other man continues, “You would have died, if you didn’t heal fast. You would have been dead by the time I got there.” The certainty in his tone, it’s like he’s seen this happen before. And Oliver doesn’t bother to make him ask, instead licking his lips once and saying in a hoarse voice, “Tommy died in a building explosion. He was still awake when I cleared the rubble off him, but he…he wasn’t gonna make it and we both knew it.”

“Oh my God,” Barry breathes, feeling the sudden sting of tears as he processes the shock, seeing the way Oliver’s hunched in on himself at just the memory. He takes a halting step closer. “Oliver, I’m so sorry.”

The other man forces something like a grimace onto his face as he tries to wave a dismissive hand. “Nothing to apologize for. It’s not like you did it on purpose. I was just being—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, shaking his head fiercely, and Oliver’s eyes dart up to his face. “You weren’t being anything, Oliver. You just had to relive one of the worst moments in your life and we all just didn’t get it. So I am sorry about that. But thank you, for telling me.” It feels solidly like the way things used to be between them, before they chose to blur the lines. Maybe things aren’t as bad as Barry’s made himself think they are.

But Oliver’s still frowning. “It’s not just about Tommy, though, Barry. I mean that still hurts—God, it’s always going to hurt. But it wasn’t just that loss that got to me this time.” The older man closes most of the remaining distance between them with a step of his own, meeting Barry’s gaze directly with his deep blue stare. “I guess I just realized…how much I couldn’t lose you.”

For some stupid reason Barry’s cheeks decide to flush, red and warm, and he has to look down and swallow to try to regroup and get his voice working enough to say, “You’re not going to.”

Oliver smiles softly, like just that promise is a comfort in and of itself, and Barry thinks he’s fallen back into that murky territory where Oliver’s smiles cause him to grin back like some smitten idiot who wasn’t supposed to be faking the feelings he may have for the other man.

“I never would have thought when I met you…” Oliver murmurs, but shakes his head. “Thank you, Barry. I needed to be able to say all that.”

“Well that’s what I’m here for.” Barry smiles a moment longer before he chances a look down at his watch. “Although you probably don’t want me to stick around this late, I should probably let you—” He pauses midway through checking his phone for the all-clear from Iris.

“Everything ok?” Oliver asks.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of. Wally’s staying the night at Joe’s and I guess they set him up in my room because they didn’t know if I’d be home,” he explains. “I can just head back to STAR and camp out with Jay and Harry.” His phone buzzes again, from Iris, and Barry blushes to roots of his hair as he reads aloud, “Or I could just stay with my boyfriend ‘who saved my ass and was worried sick about me.’”

He can’t even look Oliver in the face until the other man speaks again. “Caitlin and Cisco know you’re over here already, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Barry nearly squeaks. He’s just replayed what was said between the three of them in STAR labs before his departure and how they could’ve thought he meant something else besides checking up on Oliver. “I guess that’d look…weird, if I showed up there. Um, do you have a couch?”

“Not a comfortable one,” Oliver states. “And you should really be sleeping on a bed tonight, healed or not, Barry.” There’s some merit to that, when there’s just the slightest soreness to his limbs that’s been slowly going away throughout their conversation.

But he immediately starts protesting when the other man walks over to his hotel bed and pulls back the covers on one side. “No, I really couldn’t.”

“I wasn’t planning to sleep much tonight anyway,” is Oliver’s argument, to which Barry frowns. “I have to check in on the team,” the other man points out. And yeah, he can’t necessarily refute that.

“Wake me up when you want to sleep,” he states, because if there’s one thing Barry knows he can’t trust, it’s his unconscious thoughts while he’s sharing a bed with Oliver. Oliver makes some noncommittal motion that sort of look like a yes, so he takes it since it’s the best he’s likely to get. Barry kicks off his shoes and socks, slipping quickly as he can under the covers and pulling them back up over himself. Oliver’s fortunately going for his bag and not looking at him, so Barry checks one more time, “You’re sure this is ok? Just let me know if I’m bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me, Barry,” the older man says quite firmly, growing a bit quieter as he admits, “I’d much rather have company right now.”

Barry can’t help smiling at that, and is glad that Oliver’s chosen to cross the room to turn off the lights for him and so can’t see it. Honestly, he’s lucky the people he chooses to fall in love with are so out of his league that they never notice how obvious he’s being. It’s a bit strange knowing the other vigilante’s moving about the room still, practically silent, and he’s comforted when Oliver opens his laptop screen, the low light illuminating his face.

But staring at Oliver is going to do little to help him actually get to sleep, so Barry rolls over, turning his face into the pillow. It’s the sort of heavenly soft he’d expect from a nice hotel and he doesn’t know if he’s kidding himself or not when he thinks he can catch Oliver’s scent on it and in the sheets wrapped around him.

Barry doesn’t even register drifting off.

---

Oliver makes a quick trip into the bathroom to change into something more comfortable for the evening, and by the time he’s reentered the room he’s gotten word back that the others are at the base and can brief him on what he’s missed. Now it’s just a matter of finding somewhere to set up in the little room.

He wasn’t lying about the couch, and he finds himself glancing over at the bed. Barry’s fast asleep and mostly squished over to one side, like he’s afraid of taking up the whole mattress. Oliver shakes his head at the sight in fondness. It’s an amusing sight, but also an inviting one.

Oliver knows ordinarily he’d be able to deny himself this one, but just thinking back to the sight of Barry in that building has him crossing the room with his computer and settling back against the headboard, sitting on top of the covers. Barry mumbles something as the bed shifts, but doesn’t awaken and he figures he’s safe. He opens the link to the computer at their base.

It’s Thea’s image who greets him on the other end, and he remembers something about an early meeting at Palmer Tech. “Hey Ollie.”

“Hey Thea,” he says back soft as he can make it while still being heard. He’s glad he remembered to put in his headphones. “Everything go alright tonight?”

“Yeah it was mostly quiet. Nothing new from H.I.V.E. Laurel threw a guy across the street with the Canary Cry though, you should’ve seen it,” she recounts with a grin. He has to work to suppress a chuckle.

“I’m sure there will be other opportunities.”

“Yeah. So how are things going in Central?” He knows she means for it to be a lighthearted question, but Oliver nearly wants to sigh. “What’s wrong?”

Oliver’s not sure, out of the tangled web of lies he’s had to tell, he can really sum up for his sister the problem, and that hurts. But he picks the simplest thing. “Barry was hurt pretty bad on duty today. He’s fine now,” he hurries to reassure. “But I guess it just wasn’t a good day.” It’s amazing to think that only that morning the two of them had been out in the park with William working on his project and getting ice cream. And when exactly had it become ‘the two of them’ and William?

“Yeah, no kidding. What are you even doing on here, you should be taking care of your boyfriend, not neglecting him,” she scolds only half-mocking.

“I’m not neglecting him,” he defends, shifting the laptop so the camera can catch sight of the brown tufts of Barry’s hair and the almost serene expression he wears in sleep.

It’s only when Thea “Awww”s that he belatedly realizes he’s maybe revealed too much about his fake relationship to his sister. “But still,” she argues, “get off here and join him for bed. We can handle ourselves while you’re gone. You’re allowed to have a personal life, Ollie.”

He wonders if she’d say the same thing about William, if she knew. He likes to think so. “Thanks, Speedy. Goodnight.”

Thea smiles warmly at him. “Goodnight Ollie.”

He shuts the laptop and sets it on the bedside table. And yeah, he should probably follow her advice and sleep, but he’s definitely not waking Barry after barely half an hour’s passed. Oliver will probably wake with the dawn or even earlier, anyway, and if he stays above the covers, what’s the real harm?

Which is how Oliver finds himself slowly waking to sunlight streaming in through the windows, his face nuzzled into the back of Barry’s neck, an arm thrown over his waist, and a leg over the speedster’s. Naturally.

Of course, Oliver doesn’t realize he’s awake at first, thinking himself in yet another dream, one where it’d be perfectly normal to wake up with his arms full of a warm speedster feeling completely relaxed and rested. So he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to the other man’s skin, the short hairs at the base of Barry’s neck tickling his nose.

“Ollie…mm,” Barry shifts, slowly rousing, and rousing Oliver slightly as he brushes against his front.

“Barry,” he groans, low in his throat, because God does that feel better than usual. Oliver starts mouthing at the younger man’s neck again as his hips roll forward, which earns him a gasp this time. “Good morning.” His free hand slips around Barry’s waist to descend lower than the one Barry’s clutching to his chest—and Oliver finds something he really likes. “A very good morning, then.”

Barry’s already stiff as he starts to rub over the man’s crotch, and he hardens quickly with a moan. This dream’s already beating all the others he’s ever had. “Oh God, Ollie…please.”

Well there’s no way he’s stopping if Barry’s asking. The Barry of his dreams always does, but this time it just sounds so needy and desperate, like he’s been longing and aching for it just as long as Oliver has.

He starts palming the other man’s erection through his clothes, satisfying his own by rocking into the other man’s body, and he gives a broken moan when Barry starts grinding back against him. “Need you so much, Bear…God, you drive me crazy…want you so bad,” he can’t stop himself from murmuring into the speedster’s ear. “Everyone already thinks you’re mine…you don’t even know how much I wish that was true.”

Barry gives something of a sob, seemingly torn between the sensations Oliver is giving him. “Yes, please…I want this, I want us, I want us to be real.” He turns his head suddenly, capturing Oliver’s lips in a kiss that’s just as passionate as the last few they’ve shared, but hungry and consuming. He pushes the other’s back down into the mattress and drapes himself over his body, never breaking the kiss as they start grinding together in earnest—

Someone’s phone buzzing on the bedside table shatters the illusion more effectively than a bucket of ice cold water thrown over them. Oliver lifts himself off, bracing his weight with a hand on either side of Barry and stares down at him with a mixture of shock and horror. “This isn’t a dream.”

Barry blinks up at him. “It’s not?” Then promptly flushes a dark red. “Oh God.” It looks like he desperately wants to say something else, mind racing furiously to come up with an explanation. “Oliver, I um, well that was, I mean I—”

Yet the past few blissful minutes are replaying in his mind, and Oliver realizes that no excuse either of them come up with and try to believe can explain away the fact that they both thought they were dreaming this. They both wanted this. It’s not just him.

He brings a hand up to touch the speedster’s cheek, halting him mid-sentence. Barry’s eyes flit from his hand to his face nervously, but Oliver keeps his expression open, even a little warm. “Barry, I think you were right before.”

“Yeah?”

“We have been lying to each other.” With that, he presses his lips back to the others man’s, Barry still for one agonizing moment before responding in full measure. Oliver has to work to keep the kiss slow, taking his time now in mapping out the other’s mouth, now that it’s finally just the two of them and he can.

The speedster allows him to for several minutes, but starts squirming underneath him. Before Oliver can pull off to ask if something’s wrong, however, Barry lets out a whimper and then pushes his hips up into Oliver’s body, still lifted slightly off him. He can feel how hard the younger man still is, and he shudders once before pulling off with a gasp.

“Barry- Barry, wait, I don’t know if we should do this so soon—”

“We’ve been dating for two months!” His no-longer-fake-boyfriend points out incredulously. He feels a hand slip under the hem of his shirt and after a sudden blur he’s no longer wearing it. Both Barry’s palms skim over his naked back as he looks up at Oliver with darkened eyes. “Besides…I thought you wanted me.”

Good Lord. Oliver swallows thickly. Barry has a point, and really he’s not even sure he has the willpower to leave this bed without finally having what he needs. It’s been so long already. “This is probably gonna be over fast,” he feels he should warn.

“You have no ide-ah!” Barry’s head is thrown back against the pillow as he grinds against the younger man again, and Oliver takes the opportunity to start kissing and sucking at the long expanse of neck offered up to him. Somewhat impatiently, he tug and the remainder of their clothes, Barry helpfully getting the hint and removing them before he can blink.

Neither of them can be bothered to look for supplies or to try for anything more than this nearly animalistic rutting, but it’s getting the job done. Skin on skin with Barry, Oliver has to close his eyes for a moment at the sensation. It’s nothing like he’d even dreamed of.

“Oh God yes…Barry.” His hands have migrated to gripping the other man’s hips, and he moans against the skin of Barry’s neck when the younger man plants both hands on his ass and drags Oliver down further, grinding harder against his cock, building the friction and pressure to a point where he thinks he’ll explode.

“Ollie, I’m so close, so close…just need more, need more—yes!” Barry comes with a shout, spurting his come between them, and shuddering against him so hard Oliver wants to call it vibrating. He thrusts mindlessly into the sensation, coming with a moan of Barry’s name.

Oliver flops boneless onto his back beside the younger man, heaving a deep, satisfied sigh before a wide grin overtakes his features. “That settles it. We’re never lying to each other again.”

Barry snorts, then starts laughing with him. He rolls into Oliver’s side, and he doesn’t even care that the other man is a sticky mess because that’s their mess, his and Barry’s come mixed together on the younger man’s abdomen. And he’s certainly not complaining when Barry decides to pepper his face with kisses in between giggling. Instead he loops an arm around him and starts tracing patterns lightly into the skin of the other’s back. He hasn’t paid nearly enough attention to the entirety of Barry’s body just yet.

Eventually the other man seems to calm somewhat. He bumps his nose against Oliver’s and says, “That was almost worth the wait.”

“Almost?” He arches an eyebrow in challenge, propping himself up on his free arm. “I ought to keep you here the rest of the morning and see what you have to say then.” To emphasize the point, he squeezes one of Barry’s ass-cheeks and pulls him flush against his body, eliciting a gasp from the younger man.

“That’s actually a distinct possibility…” the speedster mutters, a faint blush rising. Oliver’s eyes widen as he feels his new lover’s cock already hardening against his thigh. “Short refractory period…one of the perks, I guess.”

“Definitely,” Oliver agrees and licks his lips, mouth suddenly gone dry. God.

It’s closer to afternoon by the time they stumble out of bed, and even then it’s only to the shower. They’ve got two months to make up for, after all.

---

Barry skids to a stop around the corner from his old elementary school, a place he hasn’t been to since Iris socked Tony Woodward in the jaw and Cisco named the Supersonic Punch Baby. The engineer still insists on the ‘Baby’ part.

But instead of entering the building, he jogs over to the field where a small crowd of children and adults are already gathered. He hopes he isn’t too late.

Fortunately, by the time he finds an opening in the crowd, William Clayton is only halfway through his explanation of physics and the Archer’s Paradox to the small group of judges. He pronounces the symbols and terminology clearly and with confidence, gesturing to the poster board when appropriate, just like they’d practiced. When he picks up the bow and sets his stance, he looks every inch his father as he lets the arrows fly one, two, three, in quick succession. Everyone assembled applauds, and Barry finally spots Oliver next to a woman who must be William’s mother, because they have identical proud-parent beams on their faces right now.

There’s a moment’s deliberation from the judges—and Barry’s a little hopeful because apparently old Mrs. Ingram is still making the science fair circuit and she’s the one who argued for his A after the chemical fire disaster—before William’s handed a red ribbon. Honorable Mention.

William is still practically jumping up and down with joy as the crowd begins to break up into groups of parents and kids. Barry hangs back a moment as first Samantha and then Oliver hurry over to William. He can’t quite hear what they’re saying, but William’s mother crouches down to pull him into a hug and Oliver ruffles the kid’s hair affectionately. The older man looks so happy with his son, he thinks he can feel his heart swell just to see it.

Barry wonders for a moment if he ought to just leave the family to it, but then William spots him. “Barry!” The little boy starts running over, waving the red ribbon in the air. “Did you see, did you see me?”

“Yeah, you were great! You’re gonna give those Star City vigilantes a run for their money some day,” he jokes, grinning widely at him. “And you got a ribbon!”

“Yeah, it’s red, just like the Flash!”

“Uh-huh,” he agrees with a nod.

The other two adults have approached now, Oliver giving him a smile just as warm as the one he’d bestowed on William before. “Glad you made it.”

“Almost didn’t,” he admits, then looks to Samantha and holds out his hand. “Hi.”

“So you’re Barry,” the woman says, watching him carefully as she takes it. Oliver had told her about Barry being the one to run the DNA test, which was before their agreement, and so he knows she must be a little wary of him. He keeps his expression open and friendly.

“Yeah, Barry’s Oliver’s friend, mom,” William makes the unnecessary introduction, then his face scrunches up slightly as he adds, “You know, the kissy kind.”

Barry feels his face heat up as the woman’s grip tightens a moment, Samantha looking between him and Oliver in clear shock. Oliver clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck before giving a slight nod.

“I see,” she says slowly, before remembering to let Barry go. Her gaze lingers on Oliver for a moment, however, and it’s like she’s looking at him with completely new eyes. “Well, I should thank you for your help on William’s project. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited about science before.”

“Oh, well, he’s a bright kid, I think he just needed to find something that interested him,” Barry replies, and the boy puffs out his chest in pride under the praise.

“Why don’t you come with us to lunch?” The woman offers. “I promised William we’d stop somewhere if he passed, and Oliver was going to join us. It’d be good to get to know you.”

“Uh, yeah, thank you,” he says quickly, realizing just how important of a step this might be, for William and Oliver.

“Can we get Big Belly Burger? That’s the Flash’s favorite!” William tells his mother, who shakes her head indulgently.

“I’m pretty sure everywhere says they’re the Flash’s favorite, honey.” But she takes his hand and starts leading the way off the field.

A callused hand slips into his own and Barry grins at Oliver, swinging their arms slightly as they follow. “Care to comment?” The archer asks quietly.

“I don’t know…pretty sure the Flash has gotten kinda used to home cooking. Who knew the Green Arrow was so talented in the kitchen?”

“I spent five years—”

“—on an island, in the North China Sea, they didn’t have personal chefs, Barry,” he finishes for the other man, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you,” is grumbled back at him.

“Uh, pretty sure I was the one who agreed to put up with you in your time of need, actually,” Barry retorts, grinning smugly. He could do this all day.

“If we’re talking about who’s needy in this relationship—”

“Oh my God, shut up!” He exclaims quietly, eyes wide and scandalized.

Oliver laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Oliver, Barry, c’mon, you guys are so slow!” William complains from up ahead. Oops.

“Be right there!” Oliver calls out, and Barry gives a tug on his hand to get them jogging after the mother and son.

No, this was never the plan. But when did they ever stick to the plan anyway?