Work Text:
A pair of green eyes had been fixed on Oliver since he had woken up. He didn’t need expertly honed reflexes and senses to detect the scrutiny - Barry was far from subtle. The shift in his interest was clear; only hours ago Barry’s eyes had skimmed Oliver with mild trepidation and nothing else. Now his gaze was curious and awed and strangely expectant.
The dramatic change in Barry’s behaviour wasn’t a bad thing. Oliver was glad that Barry wasn’t tracking Felicity’s every move anymore. Oliver didn’t want to examine too deeply why he had a problem with his favourite IT girl and the awkward nerd sharing intellectual foreplay, but he was content to know Barry’s interest was now firmly directed at him.
The scrutiny was partially reciprocated, because Oliver was still pondering how seriously he should consider his threat to shoot the kid with an arrow. Not to kill him, but some slight maiming might be the incentive Barry needed to keep his mouth shut. Felicity would never need to find out.
Oliver looked up and met Barry’s stare, which had been fixed on the top of his head. Barry’s eyes instantly widened at being caught and he dropped his gaze back to his computer screen, eyebrows pressing together in embarrassment. He didn’t look up as Oliver approached him, although the way his hands were immobile over his keyboard betrayed how aware Barry was of Oliver’s presence.
“Mr Allen,” said Oliver calmly. He was playing the charming host, rather than the volatile vigilante. “Could I have a word?”
“Oh, ah, yes,” replied Barry quickly, looking up and then down again when he found Oliver staring at him steadily. “Yes, of course. I’m just waiting for this… but, I mean, that can wait, so yes.”
He followed Oliver away from the main area, creating some distance between them and the others. Felicity and Diggle were trying to track down the human weapon and were distracted enough that Oliver’s quiet interrogation would go unnoticed.
“You know my secret,” stated Oliver when they were a short distance away. Barry was looking at him and Oliver was again surprised by the excitement and eagerness oozing off him, even when he was obviously wary of being alone with Oliver.
“I’d never tell anyone,” replied Barry instantly. He was so earnest that Oliver felt the unusual urge to believe him.
In different circumstances, Oliver could do a lot with Barry (or more accurately, to Barry). Before the island, Oliver used to enjoy playing around with the smart kids. Interns at his father’s company, college students who were the top of their class. He took great pleasure in reducing them to a state where they couldn’t string together a coherent sentence; he got a thrill out of unravelling their prized intelligence with his hands and his mouth and his…
He flicked his eyes over Barry, his imagination straying for a second. Then he quickly brushed such thoughts away and hardened his expression, taking a step forward. Barry automatically retreated, closing the distance between his back and the wall of the warehouse. Oliver stepped in again, crowding Barry against the concrete, his polite demeanour quickly melting away.
“You won’t tell anyone,” Oliver said lowly, his voice steely. “You’ll leave when this is done and you’ll forget everything you learnt in Starling City. You’ll forget about the vigilante, and you’ll forget about me.”
Oliver’s resolve was dented when instead of cowering away from the underlying threat in his words, Barry swallowed and his eyes flicked down to Oliver’s lips. It wasn’t the reaction Oliver had been expecting. It made him suddenly wonder if Barry would even know what to do with Felicity, or any woman, if she returned his interest. The thought satisfied Oliver on a number of levels.
“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting any time soon,” replied Barry, slightly breathless. “But I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me.”
“Trust needs to be earned,” countered Oliver. There was an unexpected thrill in not having to pretend with Barry, a swirl of satisfaction that made him reckless. He wasn’t used to talking to people who knew him as both the vigilante and Oliver Queen. He leaned in until his leather-clad chest was pressed against Barry’s. “You wouldn’t want me paying a visit to Central City, would you?”
It was somewhere between a threat, a taunt and a promise. Barry exhaled sharply, before remembering that questions required answers.
“Yes. I mean, no. No. I’ll earn your trust, Mr Queen.”
“I hope so,” replied Oliver and he moved back, indulging himself by taking a second to stare at Barry. Leaning against the wall, Barry was clearly flushed, nervous and painfully intrigued by Oliver. He was still staring at Oliver, waiting. There were so many ways Barry could begin earning Oliver’s trust.
Oliver turned and walked back towards the others. His thoughts instantly began shifting back to the situation and the battles he needed to fight. The image of Barry flustered and struggling to find the right words was safely stored in his mind for enjoyment at a more appropriate time.