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Their first date is on Valentine's Day because they're probably the two most romantic suckers on the face of the planet.
Barry looks amazing. Long and lean in his tux, liquid bright eyes dancing in the candlelight, his small, cocky smile in direct opposition to his nervous body language. Their meal is done, their rich slices of chocolate cake half-eaten between them. Barry reaches across the table, hesitates, and then lays his long fingers on top of Oliver's hand. It's one touch, so simple, and yet pleasure and anticipation rushes headily through him at the contact. The contact seems like a bold risk out in public where anyone can see, where no one can dismiss the touch and the besotted look that must be on Oliver's face. Oliver turns his hand over, envelopes Barry's in his, just to see the blush dust across those pale cheeks. Barry licks his lips.
And Oliver's entire existence funnels down to Barry's mouth, the shiny pink of his lips, the way his tongue curls behind his teeth, the dimple that pops in his cheek.
An explosion shakes the entire restaurant. Both of them are instantly on their feet, Barry's eyes wide as he tries to find the source, Oliver already heading toward the kitchens where he stashed his suit and weapons. He throws on his mask and hood, takes off his nice tuxedo jacket and throws on the tough leather jacket of his Arrow suit for some protection.
Another explosion seems to rock the entirety of Star City and Oliver forgoes the rest of his armor and grabs his bow and arrow. He can hear a rush of screams in the restaurant as people try to evacuate. Another, smaller explosion, and Oliver decides that it's coming from the roof of the restaurant. He runs up the stairs to the roof access to find The Flash standing on the edge of the roof, hands on his hips, and glaring at the rooftop across from him.
The Trickster stands there in his colorful get-up. There are scorch marks on both the Trickster's building as well as their own, but there is a distinct lack of fire and death. Oliver wonders what could have possibly made all the noise.
The Trickster merrily leans on a cannon—an actual cannon that looks like it came from World War I and is about five times bigger than the Trickster and how the hell did he get it on the roof.
"I thought we talked about this," The Flash is saying, voice tinged with enough disappointment that Oliver winces for the Trickster.
The Trickster seems mildly ashamed, too, given the way he rubs the back of his neck in a distinctly young and non-threatening manner. "I was just trying out some new explosives! Totally non-lethal. Ish. I'm still working on it."
The Flash radiates more Wounded Disappointment™. The Trickster tires not to appear affected. Oliver wonders if it's OK at this point in time to shoot him with an arrow.
"Though it's funny to meet you here in Star City, Flash. Seems pretty far away from Central."
"Well, I—" Barry starts, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
"Didn't know you were pal-ing around with Green Arrow," Trickster continues, sending a smirk over to Oliver who's still in the shadows and, OK, he feels pretty justified in shooting the villain now. Just, like. In the leg.
He knocks his arrow but Barry is suddenly there in front of it, frowning reproachfully.
"It's OK, Arrow," The Flash says. "Axel is going to go home now, isn't he?" He calls over his shoulder and what is happening this is not how this vigilante-villain thing works. At least not in Star City.
"Sure thing, Flash," Axel calls back with a wicked grin directed right at Oliver. "But you probably need to make sure I get there. I might be tempted to make some pit stops on the way, you know, and I have more toys I want to try out."
Barry rolls his eyes and gives Oliver a half-smile. "Rain check?" He asks in a whisper.
Oliver blinks, lowers the bow and arrow and nods reluctantly. Barry's lips look no less tempting even with his face covered by the cowl, but they can't even risk a kiss good-bye with prying eyes nearby. "Yeah," he agrees. "Rain check."
Barry smiles and is gone with a crackle of electricity and ozone. Axel is gone, too.
Oliver is left feeling like they've been played somehow.
***
Twice is a coincidence, right?
It's the second date and Oliver is not taking chances on another inconvenient meta crisis. Instead of another drawn-out dinner, they had a quick bite at Big Belly Burger and now they're making out in Oliver's car. Barry is sprawled on top of him in what has to be an uncomfortably twisted position, and Oliver is a little smashed between the car door and Barry with the steering wheel digging into his ribs but he just really can't be bothered when he has Barry's tongue in his mouth.
And then their cell phones start to ring.
Barry jerks back, loses balance, tips forward again, throwing his hand out painfully against Oliver's stomach to catch himself. Oliver pitches forward at about the same time, trying to get to his phone which is under Barry, and they end up knocking their heads together.
Barry hisses, Oliver groans and finds his phone first and growls, "This better be fucking important."
"Uhm," Felicity's voice comes over the line. "Well, I think a bomb threat at the local theater is pretty important?"
"On our way," Oliver sighs.
They get to the theater pretty much at the same time because Barry had to go all the way back to Central for his suit. The theater is well-cleared but the lack of police is concerning, even if it's one less thing for the two vigilantes to dodge.
"Thought you said there was a bomb threat?" Oliver asks Felicity over the phone as they cautiously enter.
"There was! There is!" She says. "But for some reason the police were called away after they cleared the area? That makes no sense—"
"Oh," Barry sighs when they enter the lobby to find the Golden Glider sitting on the concessions counter, her booted feet swinging back and forth.
"That all you got to say, Flash?" Golden Glider smirks as she makes a show of tapping her gun against her thigh.
"Lisa," Barry says. "It's not what it looks like."
Oliver raises his eyebrows. Lisa crosses her arms.
"It looks like you canceled our movie night to play tonsil hockey with the Green Arrow."
"OK," Barry concedes. "It is exactly what it looks like."
"You have movie nights with Golden Glider?" Oliver asks.
"Oh," Lisa purrs. "The Green Arrow knows my name. What have you been saying about me, Flash? Good things, I hope."
"Look," Barry says. "I'm sorry I missed our movie night."
"Who says you're missing it?" Lisa says and gestures around her to the empty theater. "I cleared out the theater just for us. You should take notes, Arrow," she says sagely. "This is much more romantic than making out in a fast food parking lot."
Oliver draws his bow, scowling because a Central City villain just hinted that she knows both his and Barry's identities and the true nature of their relationship. Lisa smirks and doesn't even bother to raise her gun in defense.
"How do you know that?" Barry asks. And then, before Oliver can kick him in the back of the leg for confirming Lisa's accusation, he says, "Piper."
"Don't be mad at him," Lisa coos. "He owed me a favor, the dear."
"Where's the bomb?" Oliver growls.
"There's probably not a bomb," Barry assures.
"Probably?"
Lisa smirks.
"Probably," Barry repeats, sounding marginally less sure.
"If there is a bomb," Lisa says. "I'll tell you where it is after our movie. A hero is only as good as his word, after all."
And that's how Oliver ends up watching a horror film with Barry and Golden Glider, who has the audacity to sit between them and hold Barry's hand when he flinches at the jump scenes.
Twice is definitely not a coincidence.
***
Oliver invites Barry as his date to a gala at the museum. The paparazzi is all over them—the mayor coming out with his boyfriend is no small thing—and Oliver should really be concerned about the lights flashing all around him but all he can really think about is heat of Barry's body as they dance together.
It's a really good evening, which is why he shouldn't have been surprised when Peek-A-Boo literally pops in and somehow steals the fucking chandelier.
The gala, of course, is thrown into utter chaos. Oliver, as the mayor, helps with crowd control. And then he's dragged into press conferences and meetings with both the city council and the museum's board of directors and suddenly it's ten hours later and Oliver is tired and alone because Barry has long since had to return to Central.
***
They try a date at Central City. Or, Oliver decides to try a date at Central City without talking to Barry first. Without telling anyone about it first.
Because Oliver has a theory.
To add to the unpredictability, Oliver decides to surprise Barry at the precinct. His entrance into the bullpen elicits a few surprised glances from the officers and detectives there. Joe raises his eyebrows. The police captain has the most peculiar reaction by far. He very briefly pokes his head out of his office, takes one look at Oliver, scowls, mutters something like "Damn it, Allen" under his breath before slamming the door to his office and closing his blinds.
"Oliver?" Barry calls from a floor up, leaning over the railing. His hair is disheveled from where he's been pulling on it as he works. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and there's a smudge of something on his cheek. Honest to God, Oliver's never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
And that's when the phones start ringing in the bullpen, almost all at once as if they were waiting for this moment.
Barry's eyes widen as he rushes down the stairs to Joe. The door to the captain's office swings open and the captain seems to glare at Oliver and Barry like the commotion is somehow their fault.
"All of the money in Central City Bank's vault is gone," Joe informs them when he gets off the phone, standing and reaching for his jacket.
"All of it? What? No break-in?" Barry asks, his gear in hand as he matches pace with Joe, face intent and intrigued and Oliver suddenly remembers that look from the very first time he met Barry, before the lightning. Oliver follows them, curious, but mostly drawn to the furrow between Barry's brows, the tenseness in his jaw, and the confident way he walks.
"None. No visible perp, either. The money was there five minutes ago and now it's not." Joe grimaces and gives Barry a significant look. "All that was left behind was a mirror. They have no idea how it got in there."
Barry rolls his eyes and falls back a step to walk next to Oliver, reaching down with his free hand to briefly curl his fingers around Oliver's. "Mirror Master," Barry sighs. "How does this keep happening?"
Oliver thinks he knows.
***
Oliver cautiously enters the time vault. Even Cisco is gone at five in the morning, and it'd been laughably easy to get into STAR Labs.
He didn't actually think he'd get in the weird, futuristic time vault Barry had shown him once. He'd spent half an hour walking up and down the hallway, running his hands over its surface, looking for whatever trigger opened it. He didn't think he'd find it, or if he did he didn't think he could go in. Barry had told him that it was only keyed to Team Flash.
So he is surprised when the wall ripples and opens to reveal the blindingly bright white room. He steps cautiously in and tries not to worry when the wall closes behind him.
He clears his throat. "Gideon?" He calls out, feeling ridiculous talking to empty air.
Immediately the hologram of Gideon's head appears, which will never not be weird.
"Yes, Mr. Queen?" The AI's clear voice fills the room.
"Hey—hi, uh, Gideon," he says because what do you say to an AI from the future? The hologram seems to hover, quietly expectant, but Oliver somehow gets the feeling that it's amused with him. "Right. OK. You're also on the Waverider, right?"
"Actually, due to the space-time paradox I both am and am not on the Waverider—" the AI starts and Oliver closes his eyes, feeling a headache come on, and raises his hands in surrender.
"I mean," he interrupts as respectfully as he can (he has the strangest feeling that he doesn't want to piss the AI off). "Can you get in touch with Leonard Snart on the Waverider?"
"Of course, Mr. Queen," Gideon says and then, weirdly, the AI adds, "Mr. Snart now owes me twenty bucks."
Oliver is still blinking when Gideon's image is replaced by Captain Cold, who is sitting with a leg crossed over his knee and his fingers steepled together like the dramatic part-time villain he is.
"You've been sabotaging mine and Barry's dates," Oliver accuses without preamble.
Snart, who—according to Barry—really quite enjoys preambling, arches an eyebrow and smirks slowly at Oliver. "Really, Ollie, did you call me across time and space to hurl these baseless accusations at me?" He asks, feigning hurt. Oliver rolls his eyes.
"Are you saying I'm wrong?"
"It's a feeling I'm sure you're very familiar with," Snart says as he examines his fingernails.
Suddenly, Oliver has a brief and violent image of slamming Snart's head against the nearest available surface. Repeatedly. With much satisfaction.
"Just. Why?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Snart sighs, bored. "I'm literally hundreds of years away from Central City 2018 right now, stuck in a time ship with a bunch of hopeless do-gooders and an AI that can be in several times and places at once." He widens his eyes, all affected innocence. "How could I possibly even know that you and the good Barry Allen were dating? Besides, the exact times and places that you rendezvous with my favorite nemesis is hardly any of my business, is it?"
Oliver scowls and crosses his arms. "I know it's you. They're your Rogues. Their interference is too well-timed to be anyone else."
Snart actually bats his eyelashes. "Why, Ollie dear, I didn't know you felt that way about me. Flattery will get you everywhere," Snart drawls. "Does Barry know you've reverted to your playboy ways?"
Despite his effort to remained stone-faced like the Green Arrow, Oliver can't help but let his mouth drop open. "Is that—is that what this is? Some sort of demented shovel talk? From Barry's villains?"
Snart frowns briefly, and something is definitely there. Some sort of—reaction that Oliver, who has learned body language and tells the hard way over the past decade, can't quite read. And then the thief rolls his eyes and leans up in his chair. "I don't know if you've heard, but I'm on the side of the angels now," he says. "And very busy saving the universe. I'm not sure I can help you."
Snart blinks out of existence, as does Gideon, leaving Oliver behind, seething.
***
A few days later, Oliver tries a rooftop picnic with the sense of a doomed man. Barry's looking relaxed and beautiful in the city's lights, dressed in frayed jeans and Oliver's hoodie (how did he even get that, Oliver wonders, it's not like they've ever made it to Oliver's apartment on these dates due to the interferences by Snart and his Rogues). And Oliver can't even enjoy the view (OK, he still manages to a little) because he's too busy being paranoid about where the next distraction will come from.
"Hey," Barry says, placing a hand on Oliver's thigh and smiling at him all soft and lazy and inviting. "What's wrong?"
"Waiting for the other shoe to drop," Oliver says, morose. Barry blinks at him.
"Like, with us?" He asks, voice small.
"God, no," Oliver huffs, pulling Barry in for a kiss. "No. I just meant... it's been a bit, uh, hard lately. To finish a date."
Barry laughs quietly. "You've noticed too, huh?"
"Kind of hard not to," Oliver says, wry.
"It's fine though, right?" Barry asks, revealing another crack in his confident, good humor. "We've faced alien invasions and Nazis from a parallel universe and speedsters from the future out to get us. A few disaster dates are nothing, right?"
Oliver smiles and reaches up, cupping Barry's face and running a thumb along his cheekbone. "Barry, I honestly think I can go through anything with you by my side."
Barry's grin is brighter than the city as he dives in for another eager kiss. He raises up on his knees, still attached by the lips, and swings a leg over so he's straddling Oliver's hips.
Which is when every single light in the city goes out.
They curse, stumbling blindly into each other. Barry's lightning arcs over his hands and shoulders as they scramble but it doesn't give off enough light to see by. The city lights turn back on. Well, judging by the dimness, only a few of them do. They race to the roof's edge to look down.
Below, only a few lights are on—a select few lights so that a vague outline of a dick glows below them.
And then the city lights are all back on. The whole thing had lasted maybe seven seconds.
"Piper," Barry sighs.
"Really?" Oliver asks, incredulous, because Barry's villains are the most ridiculous breed of criminal Oliver has ever had the displeasure of encountering. "This his usual MO or something?"
"Not really," Barry says, crossing his arms. "But he's a hacker and it fits the pattern that's been going on the past month, doesn't it?"
Oliver wonders if Barry has also guessed that Snart is probably behind this.
"I better go find him, make sure he's not up to anything else," Barry says resignedly, eyes straying to Oliver longingly.
Which is when Oliver's phone rings. He sees who it is and puts it on speakerphone.
"So," Felicity greets them. "This is one of the weirdest things I've ever said. But here it goes: members of the local chapter of Republicans for Marijuana Prohibition are, uhm. Line-dancing outside of the courthouse. In their underwear."
Oliver opens his mouth. Closes it again. He looks to Barry.
"That's... a weird way to protest marijuana?" Barry tries.
"Well, yeah," Felicity agrees. "If anything, I say it goes a long way in supporting the opposition. There's already a meme, 'Make Republicans Fun Again!' Also: nearby witnesses claimed that their eyes turned purple just before they started, uhm, dancing."
"Bivolo," Oliver groans at the same time Barry says, "Rainbow Raider."
"I'm not calling him that," Oliver insists, a little petulant.
"I've got Piper," Barry finally says.
"I've got Bivolo," Oliver agrees. "Want to meet next week? Thought we could go camping."
"As long as you swear you're not confusing 'camping with modern comforts' with 'survivalist training for Barry' again," Barry agrees. "Are you sure? Even after all of the disaster dates?"
"If it means I get to see you," Oliver says softly.
"Aw," Felicity says, from where she's still on speakerphone. Oliver hangs up on her.
"Aw," Barry murmurs, leaning in to peck his lips.
***
Oliver checks his watch and rolls his eyes when he sees that Barry is now ten minutes late. It's mid-afternoon and no one's around this particular clearing of the state park, which Oliver picked on purpose because he knew that Barry would probably Flash here. He's got their gear at his feet, ready to hike to the campsite.
He sits down on top of his duffle, preparing to wait it out for at least another five minutes, when a spaceship appears from nowhere.
It looks a lot like the Waverider, he realizes as he pulls his bow and arrows from one of the bags. The same design and coloration, but a lot smaller. The ship hovers and lands smoothly and Oliver sorely wishes for some cover but the door is already opening as a wide metal plank extends and lowers to the ground.
Heatwave and Barry appear from within the shadows of the ship and Oliver lowers his bow, resigned to yet more Rogue shenanigans.
"Oliver!" Barry says, happily, flashing from the ship to Oliver.
"Oi, Red," Mick calls gruffly after him but Barry doesn't seem to hear as he kisses Oliver.
"Ugh," Mick grumbles as he walks up to them, hauling a big bag over his shoulder that rattles and clanks. "Carry your own shit, Red."
"Sorry," Barry says, rushing to retrieve the bag. "Mick packed me food," he says, as if Oliver actually has the capability to both quantify and believe that statement.
"What's going on?" Oliver asks, wearily.
"You and Red are going camping," Mick says with a shrug. "Seems kinda weird, there ain't even a beach or a casino around, but to each his own, I guess."
Barry grumbles in agreement. Oliver just blinks at them both, dumbfounded.
"So you're not... I don't know. Going to stop us?"
Mick rolls his eyes. "Lenny's kind of like an asshole dragon," he says by way of explanation which doesn't actually explain anything. "He gets a little possessive about things he thinks are his." He points to Barry. "Like Red here is his hero."
"Nemesis," Barry corrects.
"Whatever," Mick grunts.
"So it was him," Oliver says triumphantly because he knew it. "He knew where and when we were going on our dates because he has Gideon. He organized the Rogues to interfere with every single one of them." And even though he'd suspected, to have it confirmed kind of almost makes Oliver admire the man. He's traveling space and time, going on missions with the disaster crew, saving the universe, and yet he somehow managed to steal Oliver and Barry's dates. "How did he even find the time to do that?"
"He has a hard time sleeping sometimes," Mick shrugs unapologetically. "Gotta occupy himself somehow."
"I ran and found the Waverider," Barry explains as he wraps his arm around Oliver's lower back. "I knew it'd be useless to talk to Snart, so I asked Mick if he'd help us."
"He said you were thinking of leaving him because Lenny was causing too much trouble," Mick says, squinting his eyes suspiciously at Barry.
"What?" Oliver asks, confused as he pulls Barry into him by the shoulders. "No, Barry, of course not—I thought we..." He trails off when Barry smiles bashfully at them both.
"I lied a little," he confesses. "To make sure you'd help. I'm sorry."
"I'll be damned," Mick says admiringly. "You actually conned me. Nice job, kid."
Barry and Heatwave fist bump.
"Mick promised Lenny—Snart—won't bother us for a while."
"Bastard needs some sleep," Mick nods. "And then he's taking me to Aruba for putting up with this mess."
Barry grins, stepping away from Oliver to throw his arms around Mick for a hug. The older man stiffens, softens for a fraction of a second, before pushing Barry away a little more gently than he likely intended.
"Yeah, yeah, kid," he grumbles as he turns away from them abruptly and trudges back to the ship. "Just don't bother me again!"
Barry turns back to Oliver, eyebrows raised enthusiastically as he starts shouldering some of their gear.
"You look pretty excited to go camping," Oliver says.
"Yeah, guess so," Barry says, wrinkling his nose. "So weird, right? Probably because I get to spend it with you. Alone."
Hours later they lie sated in their tent, skin sticky, hair damp with sweat, a pleasant sort of soreness settling into their bodies. Barry is boneless in his arms, finally worn out enough to sleep, breathing deeply and evenly. Oliver pulls the sleeping bag tighter around them, kisses Barry's forehead. He falls asleep to the feel of Barry's heart beating next to his.
end.