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Barry had this way of attracting people. As much as Oliver hated to use the 'moth to the flame' analogy, there was no other way to describe the way people would flock to him.
And Barry, clearly unused to the attention, tried to manage holding multiple conversations at once in that signature bumbling-but-enthusiastic way of his. It was undeniably sweet, but unfortunately - for Oliver, anyway - it had the ultimate effect of drawing even more people to him.
Oliver relaxed his grip on the wine glass he held in his hand, softening the touch before he could snap the stem. He reminded himself that tonight, Barry wasn't here as his date. Barry was here as a representative of the CCPD, visiting Star City in honour of the joint task force that had been set up between their two cities. Meanwhile, Oliver's presence as mayor was was essentially mandatory for the event.
That being said, it didn't mean that SCPD's forensic scientists needed to be all over Barry in their collective excitement - or perhaps it was fascination - to meet the person who happened to be the sole CSI of an entire precinct.
And okay, sure, maybe Oliver didn't quite realize all the work that Barry did, and sure-- maybe it was a really big deal that he managed to get it all done. But Barry was also The Flash. Super speed probably helped.
And okay, Barry hadn't always been The Flash and he'd always been the sole CSI and yeah yeah, Oliver should be happy for him and the - rightly deserved - ego boost he was getting from these other wide-eyed scientists.
They still didn't need to be touching him. Like that one standing there with her hand on his arm? Unnecessary. Or the one who kept laughing and touching his wrist? Completely unneeded. And the overall way that Barry just seemed to let it happen...Yeah, that? That wasn’t going to work for Oliver.
His clenched jaw and the way that he radiated hostility kept anyone from lingering too long to talk, aside from his braver few city council members. Even Felicity - long since inured to Oliver’s capacity for unpleasantness - had wandered off to talk to someone else after muttering something about ‘the green-eyed monster’.
Oliver wasn’t jealous, no.
He was just trying to protect what was his.
It didn’t take him long to decide that enough was enough, and...well, he didn’t stomp over because the movement was too graceful to be described as such. But clearly there was enough emphasis in the action that it drew some eyes. Smiles dropped off the faces of those who looked his way, andne of the gaggle excused themselves without another word. Barry’s own smile faltered and he turned to look at Oliver.
“Ol--Mr. Queen?” he corrected himself.
Oliver wrapped a hand around Barry’s arm. “A moment of your time?” And hauled him off.
Barry stumbled along and by the time they excited the event hall, he’d finally figured out how to get his feet under him or not. Super speed, it seemed, did not lend itself to super grace.
“Oliver? Something wrong?” Barry asked, once he’d fully recovered. Oliver was setting a wrinkle into Barry’s sport coat with the force of his grip and he carefully eased off, sending his gaze at the million-dollar painting instead.
“Nothing wrong. How’s your evening?”
Barry stared at him. “You pulled me away to ask about my evening.”
“Yes.”
“In a hallway?”
“ Yes .”
“By the--”
“They shouldn’t have been touching you!” Message delivered, Oliver stared at ‘ Blood Red Mirror ’ - a sheet of glass coated in maroon oil paint and that was it. Somehow the glorified colour swatch had managed to fetch a price tag of 1.1mil. It was easier to mock the painting and the fact that even Star City’s criminals didn’t deem the dumb thing worth stealing - it hung in relative obscurity in the hall with minimal security - than it was to face the uneasy twist in his stomach.
“You’re jealous,” Barry finally reasoned, all wide-eyes and just a hint of a smile beginning to form on his face. The little genius, putting it together. Oliver didn’t bother dignifying that with a response.
“It’s cute,” Barry offered, and Oliver choked on his sip of wine. He was many things. Cute wasn’t one of them.
“Barry.”
“No, no, it is,” Barry said, laying his weight against Oliver’s free arm, propping his chin on Oliver’s shoulder, and beaming at him. “You’re jealous.”
Oliver was going to need dental work if he kept grinding his teeth like this. He felt the soft touch of lips against his cheek and grudgingly released the tension in his jaw. Eyes still on the painting, he looped an arm around Barry’s shoulders.
“I’m not good at sharing,” he admitted softly.
“No kidding,” Barry murmured. “I mean! That’s fine. It’s sweet. Means you care. Or, anyway, I’m taking it to mean that you care.” He trailed off and rested his cheek against Oliver’s shoulder. “But...cute as it is...maybe next time don’t scare away all my new friends?”
Oliver rumbled an apology, turning his face to brush a kiss onto Barry’s forehead. Possessive or not, he shouldn’t let his nature get the better of him. He shifted, nudging Barry with his elbow. “Go on, then.”
A kiss to the mouth this time. “Alright. I’ll see you tonight. We’re still going home together. And then. Things.”
“Things?”
“ Things ,” Barry said, meaningfully as he walked back towards the ballroom.
Well then. Things it was.