Work Text:
“Hey, Allen!” Barry looked up from his desk when Eddie approached him. “These came for you.” He handed him a bouquet of flowers; Barry could even spot red tulips, his favourites. He smiled as he took them. He'd known all too well how cheesy Oliver could be, but this took it to a new level. Sending flowers to the workplace, really, Queen?
“Thanks,” Barry quietly said to Eddie, who shot him a knowing look and walked back to his own desk.
A small card fell on the tabletop just as Barry was about to set the flowers down. His smile got brighter when he opened it.
“You look beautiful today. Blue is your colour.
- love, your secret admirer.”
Barry frowned. A secret admirer – so the bouquet wasn't from Oliver? And how did they know what he was wearing today?
Barry decided to shrug it off. It was probably just a stupid prank from one of his colleagues. He threw the flowers in the waste basket and got back to his work.
Over the next two weeks, though, Barry received more cards and occasionally flowers, too – sent both to his apartment and to the station. He thought that if he didn't react to them they would stop, but he was wrong. He was slowly starting to freak out.
Barry was careful not to mention it to anyone – his colleagues told him how lucky he was to have such a romantic boyfriend, and he didn't dare correct them. He didn't tell Oliver at all – the other man had enough to worry about in Starling, he didn't need to worry about something that was probably nothing, anyway.
He couldn't help but read all the notes (he was a curious guy, sue him) – most of them were compliments, which Barry wouldn't mind if they had been said to his face. The last few messages had been more unpleasant:
“I know you're getting these. Why are you ignoring me? I love you!”
“You're hurting me, Barry. All I want is to make you happy. Why aren't you letting me?”
“You'd rather date the Arrow than ME? It will never work out with him, trust me.”
“If I can't have you, he can't either.”
Barry was in a permanent state of edginess; he looked over his shoulder constantly, trying to see if someone was watching him, but everything was normal. He searched through his whole apartment – maybe his 'admirer' had broken in and installed cameras? – but couldn't find anything. He didn't know what to do, was out of ideas; his only hope was that if he kept ignoring the person, they would stop.
Barry almost forgot that Oliver was spending the weekend in Central City. To say that he was surprised was an understatement.
Oliver's smile was blinding when he held out a bouquet of... red tulips? Barry swallowed, staring at the flowers with wide eyes.
“Missed you,” Oliver said before leaning in, eyes closed, and pressing a kiss to his lips. Barry kept his eyes open and didn't respond to the kiss; he worked hard to keep his breathing shallow to not freak out completely.
Oliver pulled back after a moment, frowning at him. “What's wrong?”
Barry shook his head and tried for a reassuring smile. “Nothing. I'm fine. Sorry, I just... I have so much on my mind, I kind of forgot that you were coming. I'm just surprised.” The look on Oliver's face suggested that he didn't believe him, but he still nodded.
Barry made sure to shut the door firmly and lock it after Oliver had entered. He felt a strange sensation of being watched, so he walked around the living room drawing all curtains shut.
“What's going on? You seem jumpy,” Oliver called from his spot on the couch.
Barry sat down next to him and shrugged. “Like I said, I have a lot to do.”
Oliver laid a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched involuntarily. Shit, he thought after seeing the hurt look on his boyfriend's face. “Something happened,” Oliver said quietly. Barry shook his head, but he continued, “Does it have something to do with your dad? Joe and Iris?” Barry's eyes flickered to his desk on the other side of the room where he had stored the notes (he didn't know why he kept them, they were only making him more paranoid), just for a moment but Oliver saw. He stood up and walked towards it. Barry shot up and ran over, blocking the desk from his boyfriend.
“No, please,” he pleaded, but Oliver stood firm.
“Barry, what are you hiding?”
“Please, Oliver-”
“Show me or I'm leaving right now.”
Barry gaped. He was reminded of the time when they first met; his hard eyes, the cold tone in his voice – this wasn't his boyfriend anymore. He bit his lip and stepped aside, eyes downcast.
Before Oliver opened the drawer, he took a deep breath. “Just- Just tell me one thing.” Barry looked up. “You're not cheating on me, are you?”
“Wh- No!” Did Oliver really think he would do such a thing? The notion was ridiculous.
“Yeah, I- I didn't really... I was just making sure,” Oliver said quietly. “So... This drawer?” Barry nodded, and Oliver opened it to reveal the bunched up notes.
Oliver read them silently, unfolding paper after paper and carefully putting them down on the desk after finishing. When he had read every single note, he turned to Barry and looked at him with such concern that he had to bite back tears.
“Barry...” he started, taking a step closer and opening his arms. Barry practically fell into him, burying his head in Oliver's neck. He hated feeling like this – helpless, weak, not knowing what to do. Usually he didn't have trouble finding a solution to most problems but this... This reminded him too much of the incident with Oliver's sister, where he'd felt about the same as now.
Oliver didn't say much, only asking if he had any idea who the notes were from while stroking his back soothingly. Barry shook his head; he was grateful Oliver was taking this seriously.
“It'll be fine, don't worry. We'll catch them.”
“I don't think this is a good idea. They could be watching us.”
“We want them to see us together, remember? So we can catch them.”
“I don't know...”
“Barry.” Oliver let out a sigh. “It's going to be okay.”
They were both in their suits, Oliver with his bow and quiver on his back (why he'd taken his equipment with him to Central City in the first place was a mystery to Barry, but now he was glad for it). Whoever was watching Barry knew about the Arrow, and Oliver had suggested they catch the person like this.
Barry was reluctant to split up – they didn't know who they were facing, after all – but Oliver insisted.
Rationally, Barry knew he'd probably have the upper hand over his stalker (and yes, he was finally calling them that, even if it was creepy), but that didn't make him feel less nervous while walking through the dark alleys of Central City.
Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his shoulder – an arrow. Barry's first thought was Thea; then he remembered that they were getting along with Oliver's sister fine these days. Was it Oliver trying to prove that he was better? But then again, they'd settled that issue months ago, when they admitted that they both had their strengths and weaknesses, and agreed that they were at their strongest when they worked together, anyway.
He slowly turned around, wrenching the arrow out of his shoulder – it stopped hurting immediately, which was a good sign – to find himself facing a woman with flaming red hair and a bow.
“Who're you?” Barry asked shakily, but he already had a hunch.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Why, I'm Cupid, stupid. And you-” She came closer, a disturbing smile on her face. “You are even more handsome up close.”
Barry's brain was frozen, but luckily his body moved on its own. Faster than she could blink, he was on the other end of the alley, still facing her.
“Don't run from me,” she pouted. “We would be perfect together, you know. Let's just give it a try.”
“I don't think so,” Oliver's low voice boomed through the street.
Cupid sighed. “Give it up,” she yelled in the general direction of the voice. “I'm over you! I found someone new.”
Oliver jumped down from the roof (and Barry had to tell him to stop that, he'd kill himself one of these days if he wasn't careful), landing between Barry and Cupid. “A.R.G.U.S. are already on their way. It's over.”
Her smile disappeared, a deep frown taking its place. “What- How-”
“They've been tracking you, Carrie.” Oliver's voice was gentle as he walked towards her. “It's okay. Just drop your bow.”
But Cupid – or Carrie? – apparently had other plans. She turned around and ran in the other direction, away from Oliver who only looked after her with a pained look. Barry suddenly seemed to remember his abilities – he ran after her, knocked the bow out of her hands and gripped her wrists. She let out a frustrated yell, tried to kick him in the shins, but he was too fast for her.
An unfamiliar voice at his shoulder said, “Thanks. We got it from here.” Men and women in uniform crowded around him, putting handcuffs on Cupid and leading her away.
An arm wrapped around his waist, and he lost the ground under his feet. Oliver was holding him against his body, swinging them up on the nearest rooftop. When they landed, Barry pushed him away.
“Stop, I'm not some damsel in distress. I could've gotten up here on my own,” he snarled.
Oliver gaped. “I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to-”
Barry's shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes – he was so tired all of a sudden. “I know, it's fine. I'm sor-”
“No, hey.” Oliver wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Don't apologise, it's okay.” Barry leaned his forehead against Oliver's, taking a deep breath. “Come on, let's go home.”