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“Agent Queen! Oliver!”
Oliver turned and watched as a gangly set of legs sped down the stairs of the Central City Police Department, his lips twitching slightly in amusement as Barry stumbled at the bottom step and grasped the rail for balance before looking up to wave enthusiastically at the black-clad man. The SHIELD Agent didn’t have a lot of reason to really interact with the CSI, but for some reason he just couldn’t help but enjoy their encounters when they occurred. Barry Allen just had a kind of light in him.
Barry who was now standing in front of him, ears burned red as he fidgeted in place and panted slightly. “Hi.”
Oliver nodded. “CSI Allen.” The older man felt guilty as he watched the other’s expression twitch slightly in hurt at the formality, but Oliver wanted to be clear that he was here on official business– definitely not to flirt. Barry seemed to understand, at least, as his shoulders straightened and his lips set into a more neutral line.
“Does Captain Singh know you’re here?” Oliver nodded. “Official SHIELD business.” Another nod. “Is it about the…thing? That’s been catching crooks around the city?” Barry’s voice was a whisper now, but Oliver could see his eyes wide as he leaned forward on his toes. “The force haven’t been able to explain any of it– does SHIELD know what’s going on?”
Oliver arched an eyebrow at him, and Barry bit his bottom lip in a way that made his deep blue gaze linger a second longer than they probably should since he was here on a case.
Barry himself didn’t seem to notice at least. “Right– classified. Well, um, I guess I’ll see you around then.”
“CSI Allen.” The speed that the green eyes whipped back around to meet his was instantaneous, and Agent Queen lost his train of thought for a second as he felt himself get pulled into them. “Um, who’s the lead Forensic Specialist on these cases? In case we have any questions?” Like he didn’t know– like he hadn’t studied the notes in the file the whole four hours that they’d been mobilized getting here intently, memorizing the owners scribbles and scrawl.
But it was still worth it to ask, just to see the man’s face light up ecstatically. “Oh, uh– that’s me.”
Oliver found his lips quirking upward despite himself. “Great– I’ll let you know if we need anything.” Oliver did his best to hide the way he basked in Barry’s grin as he sputtered out an enthusiastic acknowledgment before backing toward the stairway. Pretended not to be amused as he bumped into a passing officer, blushing crimson as he apologized profusely, then glanced back once more as he finally scrambled his way back up the stairs.
The smug sound of a throat clearing beside him shook the Agent out of his reverie, and he glanced over to see Thea watching him with a smirk.
“Did you need something, Agent Queen?” he asked his sister, fixing his face back into a formal expression in hopes of keeping the conversation on task.
No such luck. “Not as much as it looks like you do,” Thea retorted with a grin, and Oliver huffed, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told her, but quickly continued as he steered them both in the other direction, “Let’s just go see what Singh has for us.”
It turned out the Captain was more than willing to turn the case over, as he knew very little for certain. All he could say about their 084 was that it had been catching criminals and saving people for the last month, criss-crossing throughout the city before they could even blink. The best description they could come up with, corroborated by a a handful of security cameras strung together in lucky circumstances, were people reporting the unknown as a red streak of lightning.
“At least it seems to be one of the good guys,” Felicity commented from their own lab later as she slid a sample into the spectrometer. “If it even is a person, I mean. But, catching criminals and helping people– it seems like he wants to help.”
“Or she,” Sara added, glancing up from her own table of evidence. “Which, we better hope so, because there’s nothing– no prints, no blood, no hair samples– no normal way of catching this thing.”
“Good thing we’re not normal then,” Dig reminded her from his place against the doorframe. Oliver was grateful for John Diggle in times like these, while the geniuses of the group were trying to give them a direction to run in. Oliver could dismantle a bomb in less than 15 seconds, no sweat. Had trained in the same program as Clint Barton himself. But as much as he knew the science was important, it wasn’t his forte, and he’d much rather be out shooting something. John was in the Academy with him, and it was calming to have the other man’s patience in the same room.
Dig also had a gift for catching those lightbulbs that lit up over their team’s heads, and Oliver followed his gaze to see Caitlin’s brow furrowed as she squinted at the holotable’s photo of the blurred streak running past the camera. “Caitlin?”
The petite brunette bit her lip thoughtfully and pointed. “If this blur is able to make conscious decisions between who to save and who to turn into the police, it stands to reason it would be a person,” she postulated slowly. “But at the speeds I’m calculating based on what we have here, there are very few textiles that are heat-resistant enough to withstand the level of friction that such a velocity would accumulate.”
“He’d be on fire,” Oliver summarized, to which Caitlin nodded and Thea moved to stand next to the girl for a closer look.
“So our guy’s either moving in a flash in more ways than one–” the younger Queen joked, to which Oliver rolled his eyes, but nodded.
“Or he’s got help.”
***
“Don’t you look dashing.” Oliver glanced behind his reflection in the mirror to see Sara watching him with a smirk, but chose not to respond. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for a celebratory date?”
“It’s not a date-- it’s Intel gathering,” the Agent replied. “And you’re one to talk-- how much time did you spend flirting with those techs while we were over at Star Labs?” There had only been two real choices for the type of scientific know-how necessary to handle their “Flash”’s attire, and while Mercury Labs had an excellent engineering department, Oliver had opted for Star Labs, aware of Barry’s affinity for the place and its work-- the number of times he’d referenced Dr. Harrison Wells alone was enough to secure him permanent fanboy status. Wells, for his part, had been completely open about his research into making the impossible a reality, and had cooperated beyond the necessary to assist SHIELD’s investigation. Something that, in all honesty, made Oliver’s whole team much more suspicious of the organization.
“No-- that was Intel gathering. Don’t try to tell me this is the same-- I knew none of those lab rats, and even if I did want to know one--” she raised her eyebrows for emphasis “- I wouldn’t be making dinner plans until after the mission was over. Allen isn’t just some source at the CCPD for you, Ollie.”
The sandy-haired archer finished buttoning his shirt, and reached over for his leather jacket off the chair. “I’m leaving Dig in charge while I’m gone-- keep me updated if our mystery Samaritan makes another appearance.”
Sara huffed quietly in disapproval, but stepped aside without argument, and Oliver specifically kept his gaze straight forward, refusing to even glance in his periphery at the lab where he was entirely certain that the rest of the team was speculating on his completely professional interview with the lead CSI in their case.
Barry was late, as usual. As brilliant as the younger man was-- as adept and eager to help out SHIELD’s elite-- Oliver knew that his lack of punctuality, among other things, would have kept him from even making it through the door of the Academy. Even Communications. Also his complete inability to keep secrets; although the second trait was actually what Oliver was counting on now.
“Oliver-- Agent Queen-- hi.” Speaking of, he turned to watch Barry jog up behind the maitre de, running a hand against his button-down shirt to smooth out any invisible wrinkles as he smiled apologetically. “I’m so sorry-- I got caught up at work, and--”
Oliver waved him off, “Don’t worry about it, Barry.” He’d actually been grateful for the tardiness, since he’d just gotten a call from his team that their 084 had been sort-of-spotted again stopping an armed robbery, and they were heading to the site to investigate. He gestured for the younger man to sit, and Barry beamed at the informal greeting before complying.
Talking to Barry was always interesting for Oliver. He didn’t necessarily understand all of the jargon that he used-- the younger man was definitely more in tune with Felicity and Caitlin’s department than his own-- but he could simplify things, and always kept track of the more unusual cases that he picked up on, both in Central City and beyond. Barry’s history had put him in the path of the unbelievable early on, when his mother had been murdered under extraordinary circumstances and his father wrongly convicted of the crime; and so when the Attack on New York had introduced a whole slew of impossibilities, the young CSI had been thrilled and eager to know more. When Oliver had been assigned to Starling City and the surrounding Districts with his team, the eager civilian had quickly become a valuable asset.
The fact that he was cute and sort of endearing in his awkwardness never hurt, obviously, and Oliver had toyed with the idea of asking him out after a mission more than once. But during most of their encounters the SHIELD Agent was caught up in the work, and Barry, despite being on the cusp of the weirdness that he encountered on a regular basis, was still just on the cusp, and Oliver couldn’t help but feel the man would be much safer if he took a step back and just let him stay there. Barry was too..delicate, for Ollie’s world. As if to particularly emphasize this, the universe had thrown a freak lightning bolt at the CSI, putting him in temporary coma that had worried Oliver out of his mind for months. After that, the agent knew that he couldn’t handle not keeping Barry at arm’s length if it meant keeping him safe.
But this was a business meeting-- Oliver had questions, and there was nothing wrong with sitting down to pick the man’s brain about the case he was working, especially if he was fairly certain Barry might be able to shed some light on their unknown Samaritan. And if it just so happened to take place in a nice restaurant with some good wine, well…
“So we stopped by Star Labs today,” Oliver revealed, eyes trained on his companion. Expressive green eyes widened in surprise, although he couldn’t decipher whether the reasoning was beyond the sudden topic change.
“Star Labs? Do you think Dr. Wells may be involved?” Barry’s voice lowered and he leaned forward with interest. “Which, I mean, I’m only suggesting because he’s written quite a few papers on speed dynamics of--”
“We’re not really sure about anything yet,” Oliver interjected before the other could really get going. “We think that the 084 may be a person, and that they might have access to some serious science tech.” Barry nodded rapidly in agreement, eyes still shining at the Agent’s inclusion. “Barry, are you friends with an engineer named Francisco Ramon?”
“Know? What do you mean? Cisco’s my friend, yeah-- he’s really cool; he works at Star Labs designing new equipment and tools,” Barry rambled, pulling back in his chair awkwardly. Oliver could read eight tells in his body language without even trying.
“New equipment that could negate friction from fibers moving at high speeds?” Oliver pushed, watching Barry’s nervous expression. “Has he mentioned developing anything else?”
Apprehension morphed into confusion. “Anything else? Like? Oliver, I don’t-- you don’t think Cisco is the guy--”
“We’re just trying to put the clues together, Barry. And Ramon has a lot of evidence pointing at him.”
“Cisco’s not a bad guy, Oliver-- he’s my friend,” the green-eyed man insisted.
“And I want to believe you, Barry. But if he created whatever it is that’s racing around the city-- what happens if someone who’s not a good guy gets a hold of it? And if he is that thing, we need to assess the effects it could potentially have on him, physically and mentally, so we can be sure it doesn't put him or other people in a dangerous position.” The agent leaned over the table, sympathetic but insistent as he placed his hand carefully next to the other’s-- not touching, despite how much his fingers itched to.
The table vibrated, interrupting as both phones demanded the men’s attentions. Oliver’s brow furrowed as he read the message, then looked back up.
“I’m sorry Barry, I’ve got to--”
“No,” the slim brunette was already fumbling to his feet as he pocketed his own cell. “That was-- me too. It was-- it was good seeing you, Oliver. Agent Queen.” It killed the man to hear the formality reflected back, effectively ending their time-out from reality.
Externally, Oliver only nodded. “I’ll call if we have any more questions pertaining to the case,” he replied, pulling on his jacket. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to me.”
“Um, O-- Agent?” Oliver turned around to see Barry’s green eyes probing as they watched him. “I’m honestly positive it’s not Cisco, if you were going to ask my opinion, but...If you do catch this thing-- if it is a person, I mean...what are you going to do?”
Another reason that Oliver knew Barry wasn’t cut out for his world-- for the truth of SHIELD. Because he always believed in the good, that people deserved to be believed in, and could stay uncorrupted. He honestly hoped that Barry would never find out otherwise.
“We just need to talk to them, Barry,” the man sighed, giving an uncertain shrug. “Assess the threat-- I mean, right now they seem to be a good person, but we don’t know how or why they’re doing what they do, and until we can figure out the risks...vigilantism isn’t really the best first impression.” He gave Barry a look, and watched as the CSI bit his lip uncertainly, nodding. It made Oliver feel awful that he was hurting the other man with reality, but keeping people like Barry safe was his job, and if Barry was right and Cisco Ramon wasn’t the flash running around the city, who was? And how long until he took the next step of taking the law into his own hands?
***
Oliver sat at the edge of the bed in the med bay, worrying his bottom lip as he watched the slow rise and fall of Barry’s chest and wondering how he could have not seen it. How it wasn’t until his team had come up with a dendrotoxin-coated, nitrous oxide-filled tranquilizer to catch the speedster that he’d realized that they’d connected all of the dots backwards. That Cisco wasn’t using Barry’s connections to build technology and stop criminals-- it was Barry using Cisco’s expertise to be able to utilize his new powers to the full extent. That Barry Allen, who’d always wanted to do more to help people, was donning a red, friction-proof costume and racing recklessly through the city to save the world.
A quiet groan came from the bed, and the agent perked up to see Barry’s eyes squeezed shut as he stirred. Wow-- Caitlin had projected a fast recovery rate from her preliminary blood test, but that wasn’t long at all.
The younger man’s emerald gaze slid hazily open, and slowly focused until they met Oliver's, “Oliver?” The voice was small and fragile; it matched the way Barry looked right now, sans the suit, covered in thin white bedsheets.
Agent Queen gave a soft smile. “Hey Barry.” He’d need to inform Caitlin that he was awake-- they needed to do a full assessment of Barry’s powers for the Index report. But Oliver waited-- he wanted to talk to Barry alone. “Are you okay?”
Barry groaned, rubbing his temple and sluggishly trying to shift to a sit, while Oliver worked desperately to maintain his professionalism and not watch the way his sheets drifted down his exposed chest and bunched up at his waist. He never would have guessed that Barry was so sculpted under that lanky form. “What happened?”
“You were hit with a combination of tranquilizer and freezing component to slow your bioelectric synapses.”
The CSI hissed in pain as no doubt the place where Oliver’s arrow had struck his back made itself known. “You shot me?” he asked incredulously.
“You seem to heal fast.” Oliver had been eternally grateful to discover that tidbit of educated guess had been correct after the fact. “And...I didn’t know it was you.”
Barry’s eyes shifted down and his expression turned guilty as they finally addressed the point of the matter.
Oliver, however, was working hard to maintain his objective mindset and mask his hurt at this discovery. “How did this happen?” First things first, he supposed: how long had Barry even been hiding this?
Barry bit his lip. “That night-- when I got hit by...the lightning…” he explained, toying with his fingers on his lap. “There was an accident at Star Labs-- a prototype for a particle accelerator that Dr. Wells was working on...Cisco was there-- he saw it shoot out the window...connect with the lightning…” The younger man shrugged. “When he heard about the freak accident in the paper the next day, he and Wells went looking for me. Convinced Joe and Iris after a while to transfer me to a private unit where they could keep an eye on me, keep the whole thing under wraps. When I woke up a few months ago...I could do this.” He spread his hands out, gesturing to his body and his new speed.
“And so you just...decided to be a superhero? Without considering the side effects? The potential trauma?”
“What? No-- we did tons of tests. Me and Cisco and Dr. Wells-- we’re still doing tests. And I feel fine, Oliver-- better than ever. I have abs. I mean, my metabolism is a billion times faster and I have to eat all the time, and we do a lot of training to work on my reflexes and control, but mentally-- I’m still me. I’m still Barry.” It was funny, because he really was. Oliver could see it in his excitement and eagerness and that light that just radiated off of him-- despite everything, this was still definitely Barry.
“So then why didn’t you tell us?” This was the part that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, hurt Oliver the most. Barry had never kept secrets before-- he was an open book to the point that the Agent assumed he physically couldn’t keep one. Or had maybe let himself believe that Barry just trusted him. Except now-- when it mattered the most-- it seemed Oliver was wrong.
Barry bit his lip uncomfortably as he rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at the pain when his back muscles tensed against the wound from Oliver’s arrow. “I...I wanted to, Oliver. I mean, when I realized I could do this-- you were the first person I wanted to tell. I mean-- SHIELD,” he corrected quickly. “But...well, Cisco and I just got really excited about the possibilities. We wanted to run some tests. To do the math. And then we realized I could help people. And Dr. Wells didn’t want the situation with the particle accelerator to get out...We just thought we could handle it, I guess.”
“And when we showed up? When I asked you?”
“You asked me if Cisco was doing this, if I was helping him,” Barry countered. “Which he wasn’t-- it was the other way around.” His posture slumped back down as the older man just eyeballed him skeptically. “I just...I didn’t know what would happen. You know I trust you, Oliver, and SHIELD, but you guys investigate stuff and then pack it up and it disappears never to be seen again. I...this is my home. I didn’t want to go somewhere to be… I was afraid.”
Oliver’s heart ached for the man across from him. Barry Allen, who loved everything about SHIELD, who believed in the extraordinary and the good fight and even Oliver itself, it seemed (he tried not to pay attention to the warmth that spread in his chest from that admission), had been terrified not about what could happen to him for using his powers, but for where SHIELD would take him if they found out.
Despite himself, Oliver reached over, folding his hand over Barry’s and letting his thumb brush against the knuckle. “Barry, I would never let anything happen to you. I know exactly what kind of man you are-- that’s never something I would worry about, no matter what happened. And no one is going to make you go anywhere. We just want to make sure you’re going to be okay. That you’re safe. I mean, sometimes people are fine, and sometimes...they destroy most of Harlem.” He smiled as Barry chuckled. “And that’s not their fault, but we need to know. Our job is to protect people.”
Barry nodded his understanding, although he made no move to release the Agent’s hand. Oliver didn’t feel the need for it anyways. He just watched as those shining green eyes watched him with that insane level of trust that he never understood but could never get enough of. “So, what happens now?” the younger man asked.
Oliver nodded, glancing at the door behind him that led to the lab before scooting the one inch that remained between himself and Barry’s bed. “Now, Agent Snow and Smoak will finish running their tests for your profile on the Index, and we’ll talk to Mr. Ramon and Dr. Wells and figure out where you stand. And if everything checks out okay, you’ll be assigned an Agent to keep an eye on you, and you’ll be able to live your life just like before. Well, not just like before…” He shrugged his shoulders.
The CSI chanced a shy peek at Oliver. “A SHIELD Agent will be assigned here?” he repeated. “Would you...I mean, how do they pick who gets that job?”
“They’ll transfer someone here knowledgeable about your situation, your specific needs, that can, ahem, help you transition,” Oliver rattled off, trying to sound professional but wondering if Barry was reading as much into the phrasing as he himself seemed to be.
“That could be nice, to have someone around.” Yep, Barry definitely had that tone. Oliver needed to cut it off, he knew-- he was a field agent. He had his team, and he had responsibilities, and he didn’t want to be relegated to an office job, which is what people assigned 084s did. And he still hadn’t let go of Barry’s hand...
One week later, Sara was heading the team, and Oliver was running tactics behind a desk in Starling City, and taking Barry out on their first real date.