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It was all supposed to be a simple thing really--as Snart always said: make the plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails, and then throw away the plan. Barry was very much at the plan going off the rails. It wasn’t the real plan that Oliver had come up with--that plan was still being executed--but the not falling in love with Oliver part of the plan.
But in a sense, that plan had gone off the rails for a really long time. So Barry only could see one course of action--and he could hear it in that annoyingly velvet voice.
To throw away the plan.
It all started a few weeks earlier when Oliver came to him with a proposition. Someone was after Oliver Queen and was specifically targeting his family and everyone he loved. The solution? Oliver would date someone who could make a fast getaway and help him apprehend the person going after him.
And of course, Barry was the one who fit the bill.
What he didn’t count on, was spending so much time with Oliver in order to establish a totally-real-not fake relationship that the attacker would believe.
So it started off innocently enough. Tangled fingers as they walked through the park, Oliver’s hand on Barry’s lower back as they looked at exhibits at the Central City Art museum, a stray kiss on the cheek here and there.
And pretty soon-- Barry altogether far too predictably, fell and fell hard.
But he had to accept that Oliver--always the professional, was merely playing a role. Guys like them didn’t get the happy ending. They were always stuck with a sort of disappointing middle.
The night they planned on Oliver capturing this anonymous attacker (Date Night Bandit, as Cisco called him--not one of his more clever choices), was the night that Barry decided would go one of two ways. After they sent the man to Iron Heights, either he’d come clean, or bury his feelings forever.
He just didn’t know which one he’d pick yet.
Barry stood outside the restaurant, “waiting” for Oliver (who of course was at the roof of the restaurant, bow and arrow drawn--so he wouldn’t actually show up.) He hopped up and down to stave off the brisk night air.
“Don’t see anyone yet,” He said, looking up at the sky and then down at his wrist, trying to play it cool. “Any movement on your end?” Barry asked Oliver--if only just to hear Oliver’s voice.
“Nothing,” Oliver gruffed in his ear, sounding more than a little grumpy about all of this. Even if it was his plan they were following. He sounded none to happy. “Maybe go down the alley near the diner a bit, see if you entice him that way. Pretend to call my phone and move there for some privacy. I’ll move to position B.”
“Okayyy,” Barry said, lengthening the end of that statement. He took a deep breath and exhaled before whistling--trying to appear nonchalant. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed straight into the alleyway.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Oliver’s number before pressing it to his ear, mumbling to himself in faux anger. He wanted to seem convincing. And then the world seemed to tilt shift around him.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and as Barry turned around, he saw the bullet whizzing in slow motion towards the direction of his head. Would have been a clean shot--but then again, Barry Allen was the Flash.
Bullets? Piece of cake.
At least Metahumans gave him some sort of challenge.
Within a few seconds, Barry sent the bullet flying into the brick wall behind him and had the culprit trussed up like a Christmas turkey and leaning against the dumpster.
“Got him,” Barry said, somehow transmitting his grin over the phone.
In answer, Oliver dropped down from the roof above and landed like a cat in a crouch and near silently, which was ridiculous because he was six feet of muscle and had no right being so damn graceful. He growled a bit and stood, stalking over with sharp eyes on the Bandit.
“You know,” he said, grumbling, “you could’ve let me save you. Least I could do for putting you through all this.”
Barry turned to Oliver, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “You think this is putting me through a lot? It’s literally the easiest catch I’ve ever done,” he said with a small smile. “Plus, I have superpowers, so….” He was tempted to wrap his arms around Oliver’s shoulders.
“How can I forget when you remind me every time we do this?” Oliver huffed at him, looking unimpressed and… was that disappointment? “Do I at least get to cuff the guy, or should I just let the Mighty Scarlet Speedster make off with the spoils?”
Barry’s expression was playful. He liked seeing Oliver so grumpy--it made him feel like they were almost--more than whatever this is they were. (Friends?)
“You know, you picked me so that I could get away from him and not get injured right? Like this was your plan all along,” Barry said, pointing out the obvious.
“I know,” Oliver gruffed, looking away with a clenched jaw. “It was a stupid plan,” he muttered to himself and knelt down to cuff the man he’d been hunting - and been hunted by - for the better part of a month. If he’d told himself a month ago he’d team up with Barry like this and realize stupid feelings that complicated everything, he’d had punched himself. It felt much the same as being socked in the jaw as he slid the cuffs in place, knowing this would all end now, the touches, the little kisses and looks and… ugh.
“Thanks, Bear,” he said without looking at the Flash, his voice perfectly controlled. “I get he was like child’s play to you, but he did threaten my family so… thanks. I really owe you one.”
Barry took a deep breath and let Len’s words of wisdom (carelessness?) flow through him, time to throw away the plan; he huffed before stepping forward and kissing Oliver full on the lips. He took a step back, ready to run if Oliver decided to shish kebob Barry with an extra long arrow.
Instead, he got a hand fisting the front of his shirt and then being pulled back in for a proper kiss, or at least proper by Oliver Queen’s standards. He smirked a bit at the dumbfounded look Barry was giving him, hoping the show of confidence belied the way his insides were shaking and his pulse was racing.
“What?” he said, stepping back to observe Barry’s reaction more fully. “You know, for being the fastest man on Earth-One, you’re extremely slow.” And alluring, and so very charming, and about a thousand other things he’d never admit out loud, lest Barry’s ego inflate more than ever.
Barry allowed a laugh to escape his lips as he leaned forward to kiss Oliver again. He cupped Oliver’s cheek before shaking his head.
“So...I guess the Bandit was right about us after all--clearly I’m someone you care deeply about,” he said. He paused before he decided that would be the time to count the notches on the side of his chucks. “Maybe we could...actually have that date now, after we change, of course?”
Oliver looked down at himself, a soft laugh shivering through him. “Nah, I hate that place anyway,” he said, bodily picking up the Bandit and slinging him over a shoulder. “How about you race to Big Belly Burger and meet me on our rooftop?”
Barry nodded. “Okay...done,” he said before quickly kissing Oliver and zipping away to grab their food.
Yeah. Things were pretty awesome.