Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I can’t believe you told her we were dating,” Barry whined. Eobard looked up from where he was sitting at the table, pouring over every scrap of information even remotely related to the Speed Force he could get his hands on. To his left, Barry was pacing in the living room, tugging at his hair and looking generally dismayed. “I can’t believe you told her we were engaged!”

The Reverse just huffed, exasperated. Eobard was doing Barry a favour letting him stay with him while they figured out what happened to their speed and this was the thanks he gets? “How else was I to explain this to my mother?”

Barry cocked an eyebrow at Thawne. “This?”

“A man. In my bed. Next to me. Cuddling me. Wearing a ring,” He gestured offhandedly to the Flash ring on Barry’s right hand, “ This. There’s not really another 'this' that’s relevant to my mother so for fuck’s sake what else could I be talking about.”

The man in question flushed brightly, embarrassment staining his cheeks before he shot back, “Still, you didn’t have to tell her we were married!”

“Engaged,” Eobard corrected, dumping a collection of news reports onto the floor. They were useless to figuring out why neither of them could access their speed. “I told her we were engaged .” There was a difference.

“Same thing!”

Eobard wished he could kill the Flash where he was standing, but fortunately for the Flash, he didn’t have the means at the moment. The Reverse Flash would have to wait for his next opportunity. “It’s not like you were coming up with any alternatives. And trust me I am painfully aware you don’t want to marry me.”

Barry muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Barry?”

The Flash just flushed as red as his suit. “Well, it’s not like you asked!”

Confusion made Eobard pause. “... Asked you to marry me?”

Barry made a panicked noise, turned three shades darker, and practically jumped out of his skin. Eobard just laughed under his breath as he turned back to his work. That was the first time he smiled since this whole ordeal began. “N-No! Asked for another idea! Because honestly telling her we’re having an affair would have been a better idea. Or even that we were just friends! And why didn’t you go sleep on the couch?!”

Eobard rolled his eyes and went back to flipping through papers. What he had told his mother to get her to leave was the least of their concerns right now. They still had no idea why their speed had suddenly vanished, and none of these articles seemed to be helping so far. He was hoping he could figure it out before he had to binge read several dozen novels - half of which were outdated! - on speedsters and the Speed Force. The only reason most of them were there was because their theories might be useful, even if the science was laughable. Hopefully, the blood samples they’d given Gideon to analyze would turn up something.

“Answer me damn it! I woke up spooning you as your mother called me a prostitute, I deserve to know why.”

Growling, Eobard finally turned so he was facing Barry. “If you’re not going to come over here and help me I’m going to skin you. And for the record, I didn’t leave because I was there first. You joined me in the bed. That, and I don’t sleep on couches. Only dogs sleep on couches.” There was silence. Barry fiddled his thumbs. More newspapers were dumped onto the floor. “Are you going to help me or do you just plan on standing there all day?”

“I didn’t realize you were already in the bed. I just…”

“Flopped down onto my chest, stole all the blankets to roll yourself into a fucking burrito, told me I was pretty cute for a serial killer, and then passed out? Did I miss anything?” Eobard fake mused for a moment before exclaiming, “Oh, yes! I forgot you kissed me on the cheek, but was that before or after the burrito…”

“Okay! Okay. I get it. I was... tired. Really tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I barely even remember last night...”

Eobard huffed and highlighted a story on Farooq. “I guess that means you’re standing there all day then.”

“I’m trying to be nice you know.” He trudged over to the table anyway, opening up Speedsters: Myth and Reality.

“That book is a hundred years old, outdated, and references historic events unknown to you. Even if you did figure out what it was talking about it could damage the timeline irrevocably. Put it down.”

It was Barry’s turn to huff. “Alright, hun, what should I read then?”

“Drake’s first essay on the Speed Force shou-” Eobard’s head shot up as he gaped at the Flash, “Hun?!”

“Yes, dear?” Barry’s shit-eating grin only soured the Reverse’s mood.

“Start making sense, Allen, before I get really mad.”

“Well, I guess I just thought that if we’re pretending to be married we might as well act like it.”

Under his breath, Eobard hissed, “Oh my god. ”

“What?” Mischief made Barry’s voice light as he picked out another document from the pile, completely ignoring Eobard’s recommendation.

“There’s no one around! I don’t enjoy the idea of my parents thinking we’re engaged - not married, engaged - either, but what’s done is done we have to live with it.”

“I know that I just thought it’d be good to practice. In case someone pops by again, like your parents .”

“Actually I suppose that’s fair,” Eobard mused, completely ignoring the fact Barry’s statement was intended to be a prod at his pride. This morning had nearly been a disaster. If not for his quick thinking his mother might have died of a heart attack. “My brother, Robern, is stopping by around 5:30.”

“What! Did he text you or something? Why didn’t you warn me sooner?”

Eobard sighed, and threw a highlighter at Barry, “Pick up a pen and make yourself useful. And no, he didn’t text me. It’s an outdated form of communication anyway. I just know that after finding out that I hadn’t died and had gone and gotten engaged instead my brother would be the first person my mother would share the news with - after she told my father, of course. And I also know that Robern thinks my business is family business and therefore his business. So he’s going to be stopping by as soon as he finishes work at five.”

“You said 5:30.”

“I did. He believes in walking everywhere and unfortunately, this fucking apartment is a half hour stroll away from his building.”

Barry circled something on the page, eyebrows furrowing. “So we’re going to have to pretend to be in love in front of your brother. Great. This day just keeps getting better and better.”

“He’s my younger brother. By thirteen years. Remember that because he’s also an elitist bastard so he will interrogate you.”

“What? Why? You’re leaving or essential details here, Eobard.”

“Whatever he asks you just tell him you worked as a prostitute for four years, that him and the rest of my family can go fuck themselves, and that I don’t talk about life before I met you. That’ll get him to shut up.” Eobard’s grin was contagious, and Barry laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“Trust me I’m not telling him any of that. But thank you so much for your help,” Barry punctuated the statement with a noisy scribble in the margins of the page he was reading, “Doesn’t sound like you like him much.”

“He’s insufferable. Twenty-seven going on six and he gossips like a teenage girl. Half the city will know I have plans to get married when he’s through.”

Barry looked up at Thawne again, a smile playing at his lips. He’d planned another jibe but Eobard didn’t look like he was in the mood for it at all. Eobard looked furious, really. His eyebrows were tightly furrowed together, mouth crinkled into a harsh snarl. He decided to be pragmatic. “How’s Gideon coming with the DNA analysis? It’d be useful to actually know what was wrong while we’re looking for solutions.” Silence. Eobard shot Barry a look that very clearly conveyed can’t you ask her yourself?

It gave Barry an idea. He shouldn’t. He did anyway “Could you ask her for me, baby? Pretty please?”

Eobard scrunched deeper into his seat, rage simmering plainly on his face. The pet name was definitely not appreciated. “Never call me baby again and we have a deal.”

A smile split across Barry’s face, “Done, doll.”

Eobard continued to seethe but did actually ask, to give the other man some credit. “Progress report, Gideon.”

“Analysis is sixty-three percent complete, results should be ready in an hour and fifteen minutes.”

Eobard grumbled under his breath, before announcing, “I’m getting some air,” and wandering off in the direction of the balcony, quietly hissing profanities as he went. It left Barry alone in an awkward silence. He’d forgotten how quickly Eobard’s temper could flare. The search for answers must have been stressing Eobard out, he supposed. Guiltily, he also admitted to himself that the constant pestering from his end might not have helped either. But Eobard wasn’t exactly being cooperative or considerate on the ‘pretending to be engaged’ front. Sighing, he turned back to the paper he was looking at. Some study on how speedsters communicated with the Speed Force. He barely understood any of it.

At ten thirty, Barry stepped out onto the balcony with Eobard, brandishing a cup of coffee in front of him like a shield. With Gideon’s help he’d figured out how to use the coffee maker, and Barry had made it the way “Dr. Wells” used to like it. He could only hope the preference still stood. Hesitantly, he approached the railing Eobard had been leaning against for the past hour.

“Hey…” No response, Eobard just grunted and shifted to make room for Barry on the railing. Gingerly, he set down the coffee cup and slid it towards the Reverse Flash. Eobard stared at it for a moment before snatching it up, chugging greedily at the much-needed caffeine before squinting at Barry suspiciously.

“Why are you here?”

“Figured the better half of your pissy mood was caffeine withdrawal,” Barry joked, “The rest of it was just your usual charming self.” That actually got a bark of laughter from Eobard, and Barry beamed. “Come back inside, I could use your help,” He admitted, and he watched a soft blush settle in Eobard’s cheeks. Flattery had always worked well with Thawne, that and bribery, “I even finished the newspapers for you?”

That got Eobard’s attention. “That fast?”

“Most of them were by Iris, I know them all already.”

“I guess that makes you a good friend, then.” Eobard murmured, taking a sip of his coffee in the mid-morning light.

“Guess it does…”

“Any news on the DNA analysis? You were right when you said we need it if we want to progress any further than vague troubleshooting.”

Barry bit his cheek. There had been some news but only bad. He dodged the question. “Is that why you rushed out? Embarrassed to admit I was right?” He teased.

“No, of course not,” Eobard sounded a little offended, “My younger self didn’t admire idiots. You’re a respectable scientist in your own right and I value your opinion. It’s why I asked for your help in the first place. Why I invited you to live with me while we figured this out.”

Barry felt his face heat up. “I- oh. That’s actually almost nice of you. But why did you get so mad then? It seemed a bit unprovoked.”

Eobard sighed and his face darkened. He’d never liked spilling his guts in front of anyone, much less the Flash. But if this pretend engagement was going to be a regular problem there was going to have to be some mutual trust. This was as good a place to start as any. “I am… not fond of my family. They were never supportive of my ambitions nor the life I chose, and before you get all high and mighty I’m not talking about the Reverse Flash. I was a professor, once upon a time. It wasn’t a respectable enough position for a Thawne and it alienated me from the family - I’m surprised they even cared enough to check I was alive,” He ran a hand through his hair, huffed, and took another sip of his coffee, “With them all showing up and wedging themselves back into a life that barely even belongs to me anymore - a life I’ve been absent from for so long - it’s taxing. They were always draining people, always knew which buttons to press to get a reaction. It's only added to the stress of recovering our powers and I guess it got to be too much for me... I’m honestly sorry you had to meet my mother.”

“Yeah, she was a bitch. I can’t believe it took you two hours to convince her I wasn’t a paid whore.” Barry laughed solemnly and Eobard shot him an almost offended look. “Sorry. That might’ve been a bit insensitive.”

“I’ve gotten worse from you, or did you forget we’re supposed to hate each other?” There was a bitter grin on Eobard’s face, and Barry suddenly felt even worse.

“Well, we’ve got a solid eight hours to change that. Or at least pretend we have.”

“Mmm. How does one undo a millennium of hatred and wrongdoings in a few hours?”

“I’ve been faced with tougher challenges,” Barry boasted, laughter sparkling in his eyes.

“Oh? And what does the great and powerful Flash have in mind for solving this particular puzzle?”

“Cuddling and Disney movies,” Barry said with the utmost certainty. Eobard laughed pleasantly at the suggestion, a blush tinting his ears pink. He almost felt proud of his "joke", except he’d been serious. But he didn’t have time to dwell on the slight embarrassment because Eobard was growing stony again.

“I suppose the only good news is that Robern - while a pain in the ass - was the only family member who didn’t actively bash my career choice. What I’m trying to say is that he’s a nuisance but he… means no ill intent. With some luck we’ll be able to feed him dinner and kick him out before getting back to work,” Eobard paused to sip at the last dregs of his coffee, from how quickly he'd downed it, it seemed he'd really needed the drink, “Speaking of which, you never did say what the result of the DNA analysis was, Gideon should have finished that by now.”

“I- She did. But…”

“Fuck,” Eobard hissed, realizing instantly that whatever it was, it wasn’t anything good. He pulled at his hair momentarily, eyes flicking about, “What is it. Spit it out for the love of God.”

Barry kept his voice soft when he spoke, he was still trying to process it himself. “She said there’s no dark matter left in our genetic code, she thinks something went wrong during our last time jump that cleaned it from our system…”

Eobard barked out a laugh, hysteric, and shook his head in his hands, empty coffee abandoned on the railing. “That’s just perfect! So we’re stuck blowing ourselves up to get our powers back and we don’t know what went wrong in the first place. And I don’t even know if I still have access to my research or the university lab… I’ve been gone for two months according to my mother, who knows what still remains of my life.”

Tentatively, Barry placed a hand on Eobard’s shoulder, but nearly flinched away when the other’s head shot up to look at him. “Listen… I know I’m the last person you’d want to be stuck with, but like you said, I can help; you’re not doing this alone. And hey I’ll admit the situation hasn’t… completely sunk in for me yet, we have each other that counts for something.” Eobard’s face didn’t exactly look absolutely overjoyed when Barry finished his pep talk, but he wasn’t completely crestfallen. Barry counted it as a victory.

“Let’s go back inside.”

The following hours passed in a sun-drenched blur of dead ends and break away thoughts. Phone calls were made and people were threatened. Research papers and conspiracy blogs alike were read, reread, and annotated. Fat printouts became a mess of highlighter ink and smeared pen, novels were decimated, dogeared, ripped apart. Their pages covered the floors, were pinned on walls, stuck to fridges. Each more scribbled note than official text. The chaos was the fruit of their labour, that and four key terms: Time wraith, Speed Force, Power Loss and Dark Matter.

This is their punishment - said Eobard, ever the cynic - their retribution. They played with time one too many times, and the Speed Force decided to rob them of their powers.

Barry just rolled his eyes; leave it to Eobard Thawne to be the world's biggest drama queen. His theory was much less grim: an odd dark matter pulse in the time stream must’ve reacted badly with their powers. Nothing more. Eobard begrudgingly admitted it was a possibility.

“Just be happy you were able to regain access to your lab. At least that means we can fix the problem.”

Eobard just groaned. “If we don’t blow ourselves up first that is.”

Barry hesitated at that. “I mean, you survived your experiment the first time, why would it be any different now?”

“Random chance, Barry, random chance. Too much of how I got my powers was left to luck. I was desperate; curious. Yours was perfectly calculated. I couldn’t risk you dying, so I reworked the entire experiment, removed any chance of variable. No matter the order the chemicals fell, or at what moment, you were safe.”

Barry opened his mouth to speak, but Eobard cut him off.

“And before you ask, we can’t reuse that math or those quantities because I - as Harrison Wells - burned all my research on it to prevent being found out. And no, I don’t remember what the numbers were because someone took away my speed and the photographic memory that came with it.”

Barry shook his head disappointedly. Both because they were going to have to figure out how to make the experiment safe unaided, and because Eobard was still treating him like the Future Flash - the version of Barry Eobard had ensured would never exist.

“Listen, I -” There was a knock at the door. “It’s not five-thirty yet, is it?”

“No,” Eobard whispered, horrified, “It’s only five.”

Shooting Thawne a concerned look, Barry bounded over to the door, dodging the papers and piles of books covering the floor as he went. Through the peephole, he saw a young man with frigid blue eyes and neatly trimmed black hair. He vaguely reminded Barry of Bruce Wayne.

“Who is it?” Eobard pleaded, already scooping papers off the floor.

“How would I know? Come see for yourself.”

Eobard made a frustrated noise, stuffing their hastily written notes under the couch cushions in a panicked hurry. “Just describe them to me - Jesus - Barry is it even a-“

Another flurry of knocks. “ Eoooooo,” whined the visitor, “Come and open this door! I know you’re in there!,” And then, as if to explain how he knew, “You have no life and you haven’t checked in to work in over a month - very unlike you by the way - so stop being stubborn and open this stupid thing!”

“Eo?” Barry questioned, a smile playing at his lips, “He calls you Eo?”

“Unfortunately,” Eobard groaned, his frustration only mounting as he desperately tried to make his apartment a little more presentable, "If you start calling me that I will hurt you.”

“Okay, fair enough, but he is Robern, right?”

“Yes. He must have taken a cab, the bastard. But don’t let him in he might -“ the click of the lock and the bang of the door swinging open, knocking Barry clean on his ass, interrupted Eobard “- Leave…”

Robern Thawne stood victorious and vindictive in the middle of the entrance, a newspaper scrunched under one foot. “I can’t believe you were going to abandon your favourite brother in the hall.”

“Get out of my house.”

Robern completely ignored the demand, and instead trudged over to Eobard, flopping down on the couch beside him as Barry pulled himself to his feet. Robern sighed happily before starting up his stream of chatter again, “You’re an ass, Eo, per usual, I’m still trying to wrap my head around how you managed to convince some poor sap to marry you. Unless you lied to mother and that man really was a prostitute. But as your dearest brother, I will have faith in your credibility. I just have to say that I knew you were gay first - not father, and he will claim to be the first to know I need you to back me up there - and to confirm my title I will be mentioning it in my best man speech.”

Barry’s eyes flicked nervously over to Eobard, and the Reverse tried to wordlessly convey that yes, if they wanted to keep this up they were going to have to pretend to plan a wedding. He was pretty sure he only got across general panic and dismay. “I never said you were going to be my best man.”

Robern pouted, looking a little offended, before launching abruptly into a bright smile. Laughing he said, “Don’t be silly! You have no other friends to play the role.” The statement did nothing to help Eobard’s mood. “Where is the poor sod anyway, your fiancée. I need to meet this idiot. Are you paying him? No, you couldn’t, then he’d still be a prostitute…”

“I’m right here...” Barry said, sounding a little offended despite not actually being engaged Eobard and therefore having no chance of actually being paid to marry him.

Robern turned to look at the source of the voice. He squinted at Barry for a moment, eyes rolling up and down his form, and then very, very slowly turned to Eobard again. In a stage whisper, he breathed, “By god you are paying him.”

Eobard was struggling to respond before Barry came to his rescue, or rather, to rescue the rescue of Barry’s own injured pride. “I am not being paid to be here. Okay? I’m not. We had this conversation with his fucking mother this morning and I’m sick of it. I’m not a prostitute. I am marrying him because I want to.”

“Then you’re a gold digger. Eobard is my brother and I love him -“

“The feeling is not mutual,” Eobard hissed.

“- But he’s also a massive prick. And I have never seen a man more out of his league in my life. Where on earth did he find you.” Robern looked a little in awe, actually. Maybe even jealous.

“He’s not a gold digger,” Eobard came to Barry’s defence this time, considering he owed Barry one, “And I plan to marry him so watch how you speak about him because I will throw you out. Forcibly.”

“And you’d probably enjoy it, too,” Barry muttered.

Robern leered at Eobard for a moment before shifting to peer at Barry again. “Who are you anyway? Come here.”

Barry had half a mind to leave rather than respond, but Eobard made a rather desperate looking beckoning moment and the Flash begrudgingly obliged. As soon as he got close to the couch Robern immediately grabbed his face between his hands, squishing it lightly as he turned it this way and that.

“H-hey! Let go of me I didn’t say you could grab me.”

Robern just made a dismissive noise.

“Let him have his way, hun,” Eobard sighed. Barry just glared at him, upset because he’d left him to his brother’s devices and because of the pet name.

“I don’t know your face,” Robern complained, drawing Barry from his self-pity, “And I know everyone’s face. Everyone’s who’s worth knowing, at least. What’s your name?”

An idea struck Eobard. “His name is Barry. Barry West.”

Robern suddenly looked sheepish, and practically jumped off Barry. “West?" He chirped, panicked. "As in Star Labs West? As in West Industries West? As in the Iris West Memorial Fund Scholarship West? That West?!”

“Yes… Precisely. West as in Star Labs,” Barry answered, a little confused but playing along anyway. Perhaps this had something to do with Harrison Wells’s will, and what Eobard had left to him in it. Had Iris taken over?

“Holy shit,” Robern breathed. If he hadn’t been awed before he was now, “Oh my god. No way. No way. I went to Harvard on that fund. You're-- Oh fuck me. Where on earth did you find him, Eo, that family is a total social recluse!” He turned to Barry hurriedly, “No offence.”

“It’s alright,” The Flash smiled warmly as he said so, taking the opportunity to sit beside Eobard and slouch against the armrest. His relaxed behaviour seemed to ease Robern’s sudden bout of nerves. He glanced briefly over to Eobard, who had busied himself by subtly stuffing some books under the couch. There was a smug smile on his face.

Whoever the West family had become, whatever they had done with Star Labs, it was enough to wow Eobard’s brother, and that seemed to be quite the feat. Though it had been Eobard's goal to distract Robern, something about that knowledge comforted Barry. Iris and Joe were safe and on top of that they'd leave good legacies. He was proud.

“No! It’s not alright!” Robern looked absolutely humiliated, as if he’d just realized how offensive he’d been, “You’re honestly such a pleasure to have around, being so forgiving and all, but my mother and I have been absolutely horrible to you!”

Eobard scoffed, “That’s an understatement.”

Robern carried on rambling, much to Barry’s flustered bewilderment. “You must think you’re marrying into a family of animals, Mr. West! I need to make it up to you.”

Eobard made a face. His brother had never called the Thawnes animals before; he was too proud of the family. “You could leave,” Eobard suggested, annoyed. “That’d be appreciated.”

Barry shot Eobard a look.

Robern simply clapped his hands together and announced: “That’s it! I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“What? No.”

“Shut up, Eobard, I’m taking you out. I need to apologize to my future brother-in-law and get to know him before the wedding.” Barry grimaced in his seat behind Eobard, both because telling the Reverse Flash to 'shut up' was a surefire way to end up dead and because he was once again reminded that he might have to pretend to marry his nemesis. He just hoped he wasn’t going to have to help Eobard hide a body. “Plus,” Robern added, pulling Barry from his thoughts, “We need to celebrate your engagement.”

“And that he managed to convince me to marry him despite his many, many flaws?” Barry suggested, taking the opportunity to lighten his own mood. Mischief tinted his words playful as he smirked at Eobard. Eobard looked as if he wanted to tear Barry’s throat out, and if not for his lack of speed and one notable witness, he probably would have.

Robern, however, looked positively delighted, and smugly crooned, “I still have no idea how he managed to do that, I’m starting to think he’s the golddigger.”

“I mean,” Barry sighed, overdramatic and smiling the whole time, “Probably,” He fake swooned over the armrest he was seated by, hands clutching his heart. In a singsong voice cried, “Does my sweet dove even love me? As I love him so? Or is he just after my poor family’s wealth?”

“Barry stop that I -“

Eobard’s complaints were cut off by his brother’s laughter. “Watch what you say around him or you might wake up dead in your wedding bed! I wouldn’t put murder above old Eo here, especially for grant money. God knows he never stops griping about it.”

Robern started laughing, but Barry winced slightly, reminded again of the very real threat the other man represented. Perhaps he should tone down the teasing for a bit.

A betrayed noise came from the younger Thawne as Eobard elbowed him in the ribs to get him to shut up. “I take offence to that, and as much as I’m sure we’d love to we can’t go out for dinner with you tonight, Robern.”

“What? Why not?” It was, surprisingly, Barry who asked the question, and Eobard looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Because,” He hissed through clenched teeth, “We have too much work to do, dear.”

Barry huffed, pouting, “One night isn’t going to kill us, Eo. We could both use a break; a chance to relax, kick our feet up. It might even help our progress, in the long run, especially considering we’ve come to a sort of stalemate with the research.”

“Not to mention,” Robern added, plucking a piece of paper off the ground with visible distaste, “I don’t think your latest obsessive episode counts as work, especially not one involving the Flash. Superheroes are for children.” Rather abruptly, something soft flickered over Robern's features, and the tension in his shoulders left him, “Though I am glad you’ve found someone you can share this with,” Robern delicately held up the paper for Eobard to take, “I’m happy to see you happy.”

He took the page from his brother, and opened his mouth to respond, but found no words came out. The earnest compassion in his brother’s voice had disarmed Eobard’s fiery temper. He’d forgotten why his brother had always been his most tolerable relative.

Saving him from speechlessness, however, was Barry, who took his hand, kissed him on the cheek - probably to keep up the love-struck couple look - and said, “Dinner would be lovely, Robern.”

Surprisingly, the actual dinner went off without a hitch.

There was a quaint little vegetarian pub a brief jaunt from the apartment, which thankfully meant Barry wasn't exposed to any aspects of the future too strange to him, like self-driving cars and multilayer road systems strung between skyscrapers like a cat’s cradle, hundreds of stories in the air. Eobard felt grateful he’d convinced Barry to wear some of his clothes after their rude awakening this morning; he’d have stood out like a sore thumb otherwise. It stirred something strange in him, however, seeing his nemesis pulling Eobard’s sweater - a size too-big for Barry - around himself. Knowing that particular article of clothing belonged to Eobard was… new. Unexpected. But decidedly not unpleasant. Passively, he wondered if Robern, walking in stride with the youngest member of their party, had noticed.

According to Robern, the restaurant they were headed to was barely a month old, and had the best pasta this side of the river. Eobard had always been more of a red meat fan - fuck, did he miss Big Belly Burger - but Barry seemed hesitant to try the artificially created beef so characteristic of the future, so Eobard didn’t insist on a change of venue. He couldn’t blame Barry, though, fake meat was disgusting.

Eobard stayed apart from the discussion; he was too busy grappling with the fact that his greatest nemesis was pretending to be his fiancée and getting all chummy with his brother. It was a… shocking sight to say the least, and a stark reminder of what kind of future he was going to be looking forward to with Barry. They were going to have to pretend to be married and in love. He was sure the fear was showing on his face, but the other two didn’t seem to notice, probably because Robern and Barry were eagerly bonding over the only thing they had in common: Eobard.

They were exchanging stories about him like children trading lunches, goofy and buzzing and eyes alight with curiosity. Either Barry was a good liar or they were more out of sync in time then he thought, because he couldn’t remember many of the tales Barry had about him, not that they didn’t make him flush with embarrassment any less. Their easy laughter continued into the pub, filling the evening air as the two younger men chattered in the booth they had secured, gossiping like teenagers over the overpriced meal. It was easy to get jealous over how easily his brother and Barry got along. At least the booze was good, the strong alcohol enough to wash down the bitter taste the slight feeling of rejection left in his mouth.

It also put a pleasant blush on both Robern’s and Barry’s face, the latter drinking like he still had his speed, and Robern - concerningly - following in suit. Their voices grew louder, movements more animated, and laughter more excited. Eobard was embarrassed on their behalf and the other patrons were starting to get annoyed. He was pretty sure he was the only one still moderately sober.

With how quickly they were downing bottles Eobard would end up picking up the tab. Thankfully, they had walked from the apartment, which meant at the very least he wouldn’t be paying for the cab home. Hopefully.

They were kicked out of the restaurant at a quarter to midnight, and by some miracle, it wasn’t for bad behaviour. No, it was only that the pub was closing in fifteen minutes and Robern wasn’t quite drunk enough to be rude and stay any longer. Barry, however, was too drunk to stand.

This night just kept getting better and better.

“We’re leaving, Barry,” Eobard commanded. Robern was wobbling by the door, tugging at the zip of his jacket, and desperately trying to look less drunk then he was.

Barry was being… less than cooperative about journeying to the exit.

“No.” The brunette was pouting in the booth, splayed across the plush seat in some vague imitation of a puddle.

And Eobard, well Eobard had never been known for his patience. He leaned forward and forced an arm underneath Barry’s chest, huffing slightly as he heaved upwards. Barry shrieked, indignant, and wrestled out of Eobard’s grip, before scooting into a sitting position on the other side of the table.

“Damn it, Barry. Why won’t you come with me?” He was hissing under his breath, half reverted back to the 22nd-century version of Eobard Thawne, who had constantly been fussing over his image.

“Youuuu hurt my feelings, Eo.” Barry crossed his arms across his chest, apparently determined to sulk in a corner.

“I’m devastated,” Eobard deadpanned, “Now get up.”

“No!”

Eobard lunged for Barry a second time, but the bastard squirmed out of his grasp again. Much to his own embarrassment, Eobard snarled at Barry like a wild animal after failing to catch his prey for the second time.

“Pray tell,” He drawled sarcastically, “Why not?”

“You,” Barry said, jabbing a finger at Eobard’s chest, “Need t’apologize first.”

He was surprisingly adamant for someone so freakishly drunk they could barely pronounce apologize. How had Eobard let it come to this? “Barry, I swear to god I will kill you.”

Barry seemed to consider this for a moment, swaying where he was sitting. “Apologize.”

“Barry,” He hissed through clenched teeth, “I don’t even know what I’ve done.”

His "fiancée" gasped in horror, before nearly falling out of his seat, only barely catching himself on the table. If he’d fallen face first on the floor it’d probably have been the best thing to happen to Eobard all night.

“She,” Barry slurred from where his face was pressed against the booth seat, “Was flirting with you.”

“She? The- The waitress?”  

Barry sat bolt upright, slammed his hands onto the table and shrieked, “Yes!! You w’re cheating.”

Eobard couldn’t make up his mind. Did he want to rip his hair out? Kill Barry? Start crying? Remind the drunken bastard that they weren’t actually engaged?

“Barry, she was just trying to get a better tip,” Eobard reasoned.

The other man just flopped back onto the bench. “I don’ listen to cheATERS!”

No, he’d decided. He was going to kill Barry.

He heard Robern giggle from the door as he watched the whole ordeal in a drunken haze. Another change of plans, Eobard was going to kill them both.

“Be reasonable, Barry, I wasn’t even flirting back. She was flirting at me, not with me.”

“ Flirtin’...” Barry hissed from the bench. Eobard couldn’t even see him from this vantage point. And then; “Not… s'not even n’apology.”

The Reverse sighed and carded a hand through his hair. “I haven’t done anything wrong, Barry.”

“You killed my mother...” Thank God Barry was speaking in a quiet voice.

“That’s not what this conversation about!”

“Say sorry!” Barry shrieked.

It looked like there was no getting out of this. Not if he wanted to leave at any reasonable time.

“I’m sorry she was flirting at me. Now there, I said it, let’s go.” With that, he hefted a screeching Barry up and threw him over his shoulder, before trudging over to the door to meet up with Robern. Despite his lack of speed, he still had every ounce of muscle he’d had before. Heaving Barry around like a sack of potatoes was child’s play.

“H-hey!!” Barry protested, “Doesn’ count!”

Eobard didn’t care. 

Grabbing his brother by the arm he half dragged Robern out of the pub and onto the street, the cold air nipping at Eobard’s cheeks. They were outside. Success.

“That,” Robern slurred, finally managing to zip up his coat, “Doesn’t look too comfy for your hubby-boy, Eo.”

“I don’t think he can stand, Robern.”

His brother made an indignant sounding noise. “This? Is how you treat su corazón?”

“Never try to speak Spanish again, Robern.”

Robern huffed. And wobbled. And huffed again.

They were never going to make it to the apartment.

“You have to hold like this,” Robern made a vague cradle shape with his arms, as if holding a child, “He's... a precious baby.”

“Yes!” Barry agreed enthusiastically. Eobard could feel him nodding where he was dangling behind Eobard’s back.

However, he had to admit his arm would get tired supporting Barry’s weight for so long, especially without aid. Begrudgingly, he flopped Barry forward, prompting a muted shout of surprise from the other man, before wrangling his cargo into position; one arm was hooked under Barry’s knees, and the other supporting his back. "Bridal style", he believed it was called. The irony was not lost on him.

“Happy?” He asked aloud.

Barry seemed a little dazed from being tossed around like a hacky sack and was blessedly quiet, if blinking a little owlishly. Robern was still squinting at him, however, tilting his head a little to the side.

“Staring is rude.” He started walking in the direction of his home, Barry made a soft noise of complaint at the sudden movement but made no other attempt to wrangle himself out of Eobard’s arms. Robern was left jogging to catch up, calling after Eobard as he bounded forward on unsteady legs.

Nearly tripping over himself he came to pace with the elder Thawne. “When'd you get buff?”

Eobard shot Robern a questioning look. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His brother looked mildly annoyed at Eobard’s attempt to dodge his question, before laughing, and striking Eobard in the shoulder. Barry squeaked as the hit jolted him in Eobard’s arms. “Don’t be... Be coy! Can’t just throw ‘round a man like that. You got strong! A hunk!”

“My hunk!” Barry squealed. And then squeezed Eobard’s pec, yanking a muffled shout from Eobard’s chest. “Big, strong man!” He then promptly dissolved into giggles, taking Robern down with him as the younger Thawne joined Barry in his laughter.

Eobard strangely didn’t mind being the center of the joke, nor did he mind how handsy Barry was being; one hand still resting over his heart and head nuzzling into his chest. He blamed it on the alcohol.

The others’ laughter eventually faded off into a comfortable silence as they were pulled into a steady walking pace by the cold night breeze. Eobard appreciated the silence, and was unbothered by the chill, half because of the jacket he’d put on before leaving the pub, half because of the warmth Barry radiated throughout his body. The man had always been freakishly warm, but he supposed this was one of its perks. He’d enjoyed that particular quirk of Barry Allen’s last night. His nemesis has become a rather convenient heater for the bed. After stealing back the blankets from a burritoified Barry, the brunette had filled it with the kind of warmth Eobard envied. Most nights he struggled to keep warm in the winter chill, too stubborn to turn up the heat and too cheap to buy another comforter. Barry Allen has changed that and he begrudgingly admitted he’d actually… appreciated the other man’s presence in his bed.

He supposed that, with this small confession in mind, he hadn’t been entirely honest this morning when he told Barry why he hadn’t slept on the couch. Eobard would have to come up with a reason for Barry to share the bed with him again. He glanced over at Robern. Maybe he could make his brother sleep on the couch tonight.

Said brother, however, was looking at him funny. Robern’s face seemed a little lopsided, as if he was trying to be suave or subtle or mischievous but had failed miserably. Eobard found himself wondering if that was just the booze or if his brother had always been like that.

“Y’know,” Robern started, “Mother did say you two looked a little flustered this morning.”

Barry wriggled haphazardly in Eobard’s arms until he was able to lean over Eobard’s forearm, head hanging upside down as he blinked at Robern. “Oh?”

“It’s because you fucked, hmm?”

Barry choked on his spit, though that might just have been from hanging upside down. Eobard could feel how horrified he looked. What on Earth had made Robern come to that conclusion?

There was a bark of laughter from Robern. “Don’t look so surprised! There’s damning evidence. There!” With that, he jabbed at Barry’s neck, or more specifically, at a purpling bruise on Barry’s neck.

Eobard felt his face flush with embarrassment, in time to a high-pitched squeak from Barry as he clasped a hand over the bruise, burying his face in Eobard’s chest. Eobard absentmindedly rubbed Barry’s arm where he was grasping it. He bit his cheek.

Consciously, Eobard knew what the bruise looked like; a love bite. He also knew that Barry had actually gotten that mark from the chokehold Eobard had put him in shortly after discovering their predicament. There were only so many ways you could get Mr. Allen to shut up long enough to explain that their sudden power loss wasn’t your doing. Not that he was going to tell Robern that.

He heard Robern laugh again, good-humoured and pleasantly drunk, oblivious to his humiliated brother. Or maybe he was laughing because of his humiliated brother. “Not even going to deny it, hmm? Fair enough, I suppose. You can’t tell me I’m wrong, Eo-boy. You’re blushing. You never blush.” Robern smiled at him, giddy, even if the statement wasn’t entirely correct. He’d been doing a lot of blushing lately, for some reason especially around Barry. “Mmm, yeah, no wonder you were so flustered… Guess mom barged in on your lovely lil’ post-... ah, what's the word? Ah, post-coital moring. Rough.”

Eobard hummed in agreement, playing at a smile when he looked at his brother next. Drunk or not his laughter was infectious, and there was some ironic humour in knowing how that "hicky" had really gotten there.

“You never did tell me how you got good ol’ Barry here into bed.”

Eobard was pretty sure his brother wouldn’t remember most of this in the morning, but he was too tired to bullshit any kind of tale right now, so he brushed Robern of with a curt, “That’s a story for another time. Let’s focus on getting home before you pass out.”

His brother just giggled.

Barry piped up anyway. “I! Could tell him!”

The Reverse gave his cargo a suspicious glance, “Tell him what, dear?”

“How you got me in bed,” Barry wiggled his eyebrows at Eobard, before laughing and squirming excitedly.

Eobard wasn’t sure he liked that idea.

Robern, however, was very sure he did like that idea.

So Barry beckoned the man closer with a vague, sloppy gesture that nearly had him spilling out of Eobard’s arms, and leaned in very close to Robern’s face, as if telling him a secret. Concern was bubbling in Eobard’s chest, cold and slick. Barry better not do anything stupid, and Eobard already had half a mind to shut this down now.

He let it happen anyway.

In a smug but hushed tone, Barry whispered, “I’m the Flash~”

Thank God Barry wasn’t sober enough to be trusted. Thank God Robern’s immediate reaction was a playful, “Oh? Are you now?” Before bursting into laughter.

“I am!” Barry said defensively, before screaming into the night air, nearly falling out of Eobard’s grip as he flailed and gestured wildly; “I am the Flash!!”

Eobard was surprised he could form sentences.

“Be careful or I’ll drop you,” he hissed through gritted teeth. His irritation was less because of the squirming and more because Barry was being a general nuisance, trying to out himself to Robern. Son of a bitch needed to learn to shut up.

Barry, however, either hadn’t heard the warning in his voice or didn’t care because he next decided to announce; “And he’s the Reverse Flash!” He pointed accusingly at Eobard, “A murderer!” The clear enthusiasm in his voice and on his face did not match what he was saying.

Robern, who had previously managed to calm himself down to a mere snicker, now found himself doubling over with laughter. Eobard felt humiliation crawl up his cheeks. His brother wouldn’t be laughing so hard if he knew how right the drunken Allen was.

Pausing his laughter long enough to speak, Robern crowed, “Ah, yes! Of course, of course! And I'm Superman! Only a grouch like Eo could be as big an asshole as the Reverse Flash!”

Barry joined in Robern’s cackling this time.

The Reverse Flash wasn’t just some... just some asshole! He was the Flash’s greatest nemesis! He was supposed to be feared! Eobard had killed people damnit he’d earned some respect!

“Careful now or the big bad Reverse Flash might just end up killing the both of you!” Eobard kept his voice light, but hopefully Barry’s muddled mind would get the hint: shut up.

Apparently, alcohol had shut down all reasoning centres in Barry’s brain because he had no regard for the very real threat Eobard posed. He only started laughing harder at that, him and his brother howling like banshees into the night.

Robern paused long enough to heave out; “Ay, now that’d be a way to go! Maybe you’ll rip my heart out, hmm, Eo-boy?”

“Maybe,” Eobard hissed.

Barry, all sense of self-preservation gone with the wind, chimed in with, “No? Wouldn’t do that. Just make angry helicopter noises and,” Barry struck the air with a hard punch, “POw! Dead.”

More laughter. Eobard felt his face heating up, but settled for huffing instead of murdering them both. They were only a few blocks from the apartment. With a little luck they might actually make it there alive.

It took some minutes for Eobard’s company to calm themselves, and they were still flush and giggly when they got to the door of the complex. 

“Robern, can you grab the lock? My hands are… rather full right now.”

Barry burst into another fit of laughter at the mention of his predicament, wriggling in Eobard’s arms as he kicked his legs about happily, but thankfully not enough for Eobard to consider dropping him. His arms were getting tired though. Barry was lanky but he was no lightweight, and the sooner he could get the drunken bastards to bed the better.

Robern wandered to the door and the keypad there. It was an old building, no DNA recognition or retinal scan or even an ID check, just a plain old four-digit code. Now that his family knew the code he was tempted to ask the landlord to change it. Only… it seemed Robern didn’t know how to unlock the door. He was just standing there dazed staring at the lock pad like it was a foreign, unknown object; strange and unusual in familiar lands.

“Everything alright?” Eobard asked.

“I…” Robern started, “Um- I… How?” He turned to look at Eobard, confusion knitting his eyebrows together, “It was easier earlier?”

Eobard gave an exasperated sigh, before walking over to the door. Barry chirping at him curiously, obviously wondering about why Eobard planned on doing about the situation.

The answer was simple.

Facing Robern, Eobard instructed, “Arms out in front of you.”

Robern, movements slightly delayed by the alcohol in his system, complied as quickly as he could, holding out his arms in an almost zombie-esque fashion.

“Good enough,” Eobard grumbled, and dumped Barry’s limp body into his brother’s arms. Both men shrieked as Robern’s knees buckled under the weight, collapsing to the floor with Barry soundly on top of him.

The elder Thawne was intentionally oblivious to the chaos beside him as he punched in the code. Eobard waited for the light to flicker green, confirming it was correct, and when it did so, he made a soft, approving noise under his breath. Only then did he acknowledge the heap he had left the younger men in with a smug smile.

“Not as light as he looks, hmm?” Eobard drawled, spiteful. In theory, he didn’t have a good reason to be upset with either man. But mocking the Reverse Flash in front of the Reverse Flash was bound to have its consequences. Call him petty but the way Barry was now rubbing a bruised ass and Robern’s was heaving through winded breaths made him smirk just a bit wider than it should have.

“No…” Robern moaned, hurt and offended, “He’s so heavy. How’d you carry him? What on earth does he eat to be that fat?”

Barry, too drunk to understand rhetoric questions, answered with, “Speedster bar,” seemingly as an answer to both.

A soft laugh came from Robern. “I can see why you’re marrying him, Eo, looks like you found yourself another fanboy.”

“Just get up before the door locks on us.”

There was another chuckle, slightly pained, this time, but Robern heaved to his feet nonetheless. Barry made no effort to move. Gesturing for Robern to hold the door open, Eobard begrudgingly strutted over to Barry’s form on the cement.

“Don’t wanna moooove,” Barry wailed. He sounded sleepy. The night must have taken more out of him than Eobard though. Or maybe it was the time. It must be well past midnight by now, their walk had been lengthened considerably by the extra weight Eobard had been lugging around.

“There’s a nice bed inside, now come on,” And with that, he plucked the screeching Barry Allen off the ground and heaved him back into Eobard’s arms.,

Marching inside, the end of this ordeal finally in sight, Eobard headed straight for the elevator, only to see Robern swerve to the left in his peripheral vision.

“What are you doing, Robern.” It came off rather stern, but Eobard couldn’t bring himself to care.

Robern jolted, as if spooked and turned sheepishly to face Eobard, “Going up… the stairs?”

Eobard glowered, he felt Barry squirm uncomfortably as his grip tightened. He never should have let them drink. “I barely trust you to walk in a straight line much less take the fucking stairs. I already had to explain to our mother why my fiancée dared to share a bed with me, I’m not explaining how you ended up in a body bag after taking a drunken spill down four flights of stairs. Not only that but the stairs aren’t even in that direction. Get over here.”

In fact, the only thing in that direction was the side street enterance. Had Robern been trying to leave?

The elevator ride was awkward, and quiet, as was the walk to the door, and the brief minute by the door as Robern stood fumbling with Eobard’s key. Eobard got the impression Robern wanted to ask him something, but his brother had said nothing about it the entire time and Eobard wasn’t one to pry, not if he couldn’t get anything out of it.

Stepping inside, Eobard felt his shoulders relax with the click of the shutting door. He was home. Finally.

His first priority, however, was getting Barry to bed. The sooner he didn’t have to worry about the drunk, depowered speedster doing something stupid the better. Whatever Robern needed to spend the night could be handled after.

“Get comfortable Robern, I’ll be back with a blanket and pillows as soon as I get this oaf undercovers.”

“Pillows?” asked Robern, suddenly quiet.

“Did you think I was going to make you sleep on the floor? You’ll sleep here tonight, on the couch. I don’t have a guest room, but we’ll make sure you get to work on time tomorrow.”

“Only dogs sleep on couches,” Barry hissed, and Eobard recalled the statement from an earlier conversation between the two of them. The Flash must be quoting him, he realized. However, he really didn’t need it brought up now, especially when it sounded like his “fiancée” was insinuating Robern was an animal.

“You’ve definitely had too much to drink, love.” The statement was directed at Barry but Eobard made sure it was loud enough for Robern to hear, intending to do some indirect damage control. The way it made Barry’s ears turn pink at the affectionate term was just an added benefit.

But Robern seemed to have finished process what Eobard had said earlier, or at the very least chosen a response, because he spoke up then, and very, very carefully said, “I didn’t think you’d let me stay…”

Eobard balked. “I- Robern what on Earth gave you that idea? If it were a reasonable time then I would insist you leave but it’s -“ He glanced at the microwave, and the little analogue clock attached to its fluorescent screen, “It’s fucking one in the morning. The night bus doesn’t even run by this neighborhood, all the cabs would need to be called in ahead of time. On top of that, letting you walk home like this would be a death sentence. You’d barely make it four blocks before you got hit by a car,” Eobard sighed, exasperated. He hadn’t signed up to play babysitter to his kid brother. He glanced down at Barry. Or his nemesis. “Robern, you’re drunk. You’re tired. You have no ride. Sit down.”

Robern, apparently an anxious drunk, at least when it came to this, looked vaguely uncomfortable, like he wanted to object, or was worried about overstepping.

Eobard was having none of that. If Robern left now there was a very slim chance he’d get home unharmed, and if anyone was killing his brother it was Eobard, not some random driver, especially after his earlier comments about the Reverse Flash. Once again he commanded, “Sit down .”

Robern listened.

With that sorted, Eobard carried Barry to the bedroom, eager to give his arms some reprieve after carrying the younger man for so long.

Setting Barry down on the bed, Eobard gently untangled him from Eobard’s arms.

“I forgot how fucking heavy you are Barry,” He muttered, mainly to himself, “Must be completely muscle mass and bone because you are not big enough to weigh that much naturally.”

“Are you sayin’ I’m fat?” Barry’s voice was wobbly, as if he was about to cry. Eobard just made a face at him from where he was tugging off Barry’s shoes. How had Barry got that from what he’d said?

Whatever Eobard’s body language must have read it wasn’t good, because Barry just started blubbering like a baby. Jesus Christ. Eobard felt completely out of his depth.

“N-No, Barry, I don’t think you’re fat now - God dammit will you stop crying -“ Barry only started crying more, “Fucking hell, Barry you’re not fat.”

“You don’t think I’m beautiful!” Wailed Barry.

“Barry what the actual fuck.”

“I’m getting married to a man who thinks I’m ugly! Hideous!”

Was that what this was about?

“Barry, I don’t think you’re ugly. Not at all.” Barry sniffled. Eobard tried again, “No, I don’t. You’re very… pretty.”

The other man’s expression only soured. “You hesitated,” he hissed.

Mother fucker. “I’ll say it again,” Eobard tried to keep the bite out of his voice, Barry was getting on his nerves, “You’re beautiful. Very pretty.”

He sniffled out, “Like a princess?”

“What the fu- Yes. Like a princess.”

Barry’s expression brightened, preening, and on impulse Eobard leaned forward to wipe away Barry’s tears with his thumb. The Flash’s face flushed.

Absentmindedly Barry mumbled to himself, “I’m going to be the best bride.”

That actually got a laugh out of Eobard. “I’m sure you’re going to look stunning in your wedding dress.”

“Yes.” Barry mumbled proudly.

Chuckling to himself as he went to stand, Eobard crooned, “Well if my blushing bride could tuck himself into bed while I get Robern some blankets I’d be very grateful.”

Barry’s face immediately morphed into a frown, and he grabbed at Eobard’s retreating shoulders, “You’re leaving!?”

“Just to get some blankets from the closet,” He said, pulling off Barry’s hands. It seemed to smooth over Barry’s worries, because the brunette sat back and relaxed slightly, leaning back against the pillows perched on the wall.

Eobard didn’t miss the possessive way Barry watched him walk to the closet and pull one of the spare pillows from the top space. It was rather plush - a bit too much so for his tastes - but he knew that was how Robern liked it, so he could trust his brother not to complain. The blanket he had for him was a different story. It was barely deserving of the name. Paper-thin and scratchy, it was already several years old when he bought it second hand, more for aesthetic purposes than actual comfort. But it served as part of common courtesy to offer it to his brother, even if it wouldn’t do anything to actually keep him warm. Eobard wished he could do better, especially considering Robern had managed to foot the bill despite struggling to remember his PIN number, but it was the only thing he had to offer the younger man. Huffing, he piled both items in his arms and headed for the door.

“You said you weren’t leaving!” Cried Barry from the bed, and he actually tried to stand up to chase after Eobard, but only succeeded in flopping onto the floor, where he started to sniffle again.

In no hurry to see the man start crying again, Eobard plopped the bedding on the floor and rushed over to the downed speedster. Eobard worriedly pulled him up off the floor. “I’m just going to the other room, I won’t be long.”

That didn’t seem to help. “You can’t leave me!”

“I can’t take you with me. You’re drunk and you can’t stand, much less walk.”

“You can’t!” Barry was going to wake the neighbors at this rate.

Scooping Barry up in his arms, and ignoring the way his heart fluttered when Barry nuzzled his neck, he padded over to the bed. Grunting with the effort, he plopped Barry back on the mattress. “I’ll only be gone a moment.”

He rose up again, only to be stopped by Barry hurriedly wrapping his arms around his neck and shoulders, vice like. A python.

Barry buried his face in Eobard’s shirt, making distressed noises. A cuddly python?

“Barry,” He pleaded. Then, paying at the Flash’s need to help others, he said, “I need to make sure Robern is comfy, too. You’re not the only one who needs me.” The pang of guilt that came with being so manipulative surprised Eobard.

“Need you most,” Barry whimpered, “ My Reverse.”

“Yes,” Eobard agreed, “Your Reverse.”

They fell into stillness, the quiet all-consuming, disturbed only by their mutual breathing. The moment felt important, but he couldn’t place why.

Barry hesitantly unhooked his arms, letting Eobard free.

In the living room, Eobard clutched at the bedding with a bittersweet victory in his mouth. Robern had passed out waiting for Eobard to come back with his pillow and blanket, curled tightly in the fetal position, one of the decorative pillows clamped between his arm and head. How Robern had managed to sleep through Barry’s ruckus was a mystery, but one he was readily thankful for. A smile twitched at his lips when he noticed his brother had managed to neatly tuck his shoes by the door of the apartment before taking the much needed power nap.

Walking over to Robern, Eobard quietly set down his parcel, and carefully lifted up the sleeping head. Then, he tugged the cushion out from under the younger man, replacing it swiftly with the proper pillow from the bedroom. Hopefully he was fast enough to save his brother from a stiff neck. Standing with a grunt, he shook out the blanket, flapping it in the air, letting it flutter down and settle gently on the form sleeping on the couch. He paused for a moment, inspecting his work, before marching to the kitchen, cursing himself for not remembering sooner.

Flinging open a cupboard, he rummaged around, looking for the Advil. Feeling it brush against his fingertips, he grasped it, pulling it from the back of the medicine cabinet. It had been a while since he’d needed it, thanks to his speed. The weight of the bottle in his hand was almost unfamiliar at this point. He uncapped it methodically, holding two pills in his palm before nabbing the relatively empty trash can from under the sink, and returned to the couch with his bounty, setting the pills on the coffee table and the trash by Robern’s head. A water bottle from the fridge joined them a moment later.

He added a second one for good measure.

Eobard repeated the process once more time, needing an impromptu hangover kit for Barry as well, but added an extra Advil - suggested servings be damned - and grabbed a large salad bowl over a garbage can. He was allowed to play favourites.  

His trip back to the bedroom was interrupted by the sound of heaving coming from the bathroom. Oh no. Nudging open the door to the washroom with his foot, he was greeted with the sight of Barry bent over the toilet, vomiting his guts out. Pity overcame him.

“Oh, Barry.”

The man in question looked up, his face pale and twisted into a rather depressed expression. He looked like a kicked puppy, except with vomit dribbling down his chin.

Eye contact was abruptly cut off as Barry lunged for the bowl again, and the awful noise filled the room again. Setting the supplies on the counter, he rushed over to Barry, gently resting his hands on the back of the heaving man. Eobard let one slip up to card through Barry’s hair, the other rubbing deep and gentle circles by Barry’s spine. The appreciative rumble that came from the Flash as soon as he was done throwing up was all the thanks Eobard needed.

“Feeling better?”

There was a pause as Barry self-assessed himself. A nod.

Even though Barry couldn’t see, Eobard found himself nodding in confirmation. “Let’s get you something to drink, I brought some water. Can you stomach it?”

Barry glanced up at Eobard out of the corner of his eye, and nodded again. It seemed like the Flash didn’t trust his voice right now.

“Wait here,” Eobard stood up, but there was a soft whine as his hands came away from where they were massaging Barry’s scalp and back, “I’ll continue later. Right now, you need fluids.”

Barry gave a begrudging grunt of agreement, easing himself into a sitting position, groaning. His back faced the bathtub so he could lean against its wall, letting his eyes slip closed as he relaxed. Eobard eyed him with concern, but moved to the counter anyway.

There, he stared at the two water bottles he’d brought. When he stood up he’d intended to give one of them to Barry now, but they’d be vital tomorrow morning and he knew his future self definitely wouldn’t want to make the trip to the kitchen at two AM if the need arose. He also knew that he had a cup in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, he could give Barry tap water with that, but it probably wouldn’t taste as clean. Rather metallic, really, and he wouldn’t want to upset Barry’s stomach again. Grumbling to himself, he picked up the water bottle, he didn’t want Barry throwing up in the bed.

Returning to Barry, he carefully placed a hand on the speedster’s shoulder to get his attention. Barry’s eyes fluttered open, focusing first on Eobard’s face, then the hand on his shoulder, and then on the water bottle. Eobard was happy to see more colour in his face, and that his eyes were less glassy than before.

Barry reached for the bottle, but the tremor in his hands made Eobard bat them away, reaching to uncap it himself before pressing it against Barry’s mouth. Slowly, the lips parted, and he drank in the water for a moment before reaching up again, but Eobard got the memo first, pulling the bottle away, letting Barry swallow. An approving grunt came from the Flash, and Eobard lifted the bottle again.

The cycle repeated for a few minutes, and by the time Barry had drunk half the bottle they were both satisfied.

“Ready to go back to the bedroom?”

“Yeah.” Barry’s voice was hoarse, and he gave a bitter laugh. Still drunk, then. “Dinner didn’t taste as good on the way up.”

Eobard chuckled at that, shaking his head with some exasperated humour. “I’m sure. How did you even make it to the bathroom? You could barely stand last I saw of you, to say nothing of walking.”

“Adr’nalin,” Barry mumbled, “Didn’t wanna throw up in your bed.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Good. The bed… smells like you.”

Eobard felt his forehead crease. “Nothing I can do about that.”

“S’not a problem.” There was a slight blush on Barry’s cheeks, and not the kind from having drunk to much.

“Can you stand?”

Barry thought for a moment, and shook his head no. Eobard nodded, understanding, and sighed tiredly, but with no malice.

From there he lifted Barry up and out of the washroom, crossing the hall into the bedroom. He repeated the events from earlier, placing Barry gingerly in the bed.

“I’m going back to the bathroom to grab some things,” He peered at Barry for a moment, checking for another bout of separation anxiety, seeing none he continued, “Get into bed. Sleep. I’ll join you when I get back.”

Barry blinked owlishly at him for a moment, before looking down at himself and tugging at the sweater he was wearing - Eobard’s sweater. “Should I… change?”

The Reverse Flash shook his head tiredly, “No… it’s too late and I’m not undressing you; I don’t trust you to be coordinated enough to do it yourself.”

The brunette squeaked quietly, and huffed, embarrassed, but didn’t object.

Eobard left for the washroom.

When he returned Barry was curled up underneath the blankets, breathing quiet and even. It seemed both Robern and Barry had been tuckered out by the night’s events. Eobard stretched his shoulders out as he walked to the empty side of the bed, trying to ease the tension from his aching muscles as he sat on the edge of the mattress. He waited there for a moment, waiting for Barry to stir, but there were no irregularities. The other man must be sound asleep.

Weighing his options for a moment, Eobard decided to change, maybe not into his actual sleepwear but definitely out of the slacks and top he’d put on this morning. He deserved a good night’s rest for all the bullshit he put up with that night. Soundlessly, he peeled off his layers, stripping into his underwear. He was happiest to pull his shoes off, groaning quietly as the pressure eased off his sore feet. Eobard sat there for a moment, in nothing but his underwear, revelling in the concept that he was finally able to go to sleep.

Just as he was about to lie down beside Barry, he felt the lightest touch settle between his shoulder blades, right the dip where two vertebrae met. Glancing behind him, he spotted Barry, who had managed to shuffle closer to Eobard without him noticing. He laid on his side, arm in the air and what felt like two fingers pressing gently at his back. The Flash’s eyes were distant, glassy almost, and for a moment Eobard was worried they were going to have to make another bathroom stop, but Barry made no indication that was the case.

Instead, Barry let his fingertips skim down the curve of Eobard’s spine, trailing lazily over the expanse of skin, the defined valley separating two halves of a muscled back, littered with scars.

“I did this,” Barry muttered, voice quiet, “I hurt you; my Reverse.”

Eobard got the impression Barry was more Flash - more Speed Force - than human right now. “I’ve hurt you too…” Eobard responded, “I’ve hurt you without remorse, without hesitation. I killed your mother, littered you with scars that will never heal; the kind you can’t see. It’s unforgivable what we’ve done to each other.”

“I could forgive you,” Barry whispered.

Thawne felt his heart rate pick up. “I- Would you give me the chance to be forgiven?”

“There’s hope.”

Silence.

And then Barry yawned. The moment was gone

He slipped under the covers, felt Barry sidle up against his back, wrap an arm around his chest and press the palm of one hand to Eobard’s heartbeat. A soft peck was pressed to the nape of his neck, a gentle sigh escaping into the night air and Barry settled like an old house. He felt a blush crawl up his cheeks. Eobard had never imagined being the little spoon.

“I was right,” Barry mumbled against Eobard’s skin, “You are pretty cute for a serial killer.”