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Barry couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous.
He tried to tell himself that it wasn't a big deal, that he was already with Oliver no matter how the night would go, but to no avail. It was their first official date, and he was a mess.
He'd agreed to come to Starling, simply because it was more difficult to do it the other way around with Oliver coming to Central City. Besides, Oliver had told him he'd make reservations in one of the best restaurants of the city.
So Barry ran, anxious to get there as fast as possible. He was glad that running didn't make him sweat; he'd be drenched by the time he arrived in Starling City.
He picked Oliver up from his apartment, greeting him with a kiss – and he was allowed to do this now, he thought giddily –, and let his boyfriend lead the way, their hands brushing together every so often. After a few steps, he slipped his hand into Oliver's, who squeezed it and smiled at him. Barry couldn't keep the grin off his face.
But when Oliver stopped in front of a noble-looking restaurant, Barry's face fell. He was just about to ask if they had to go in, but Oliver was already tugging him inside.
“Oliver,” he hissed. “I don't think I'm dressed appropriately.” He gestured to his simple button-down and black jeans.
“Shut up, you look handsome,” Oliver said without looking at him.
They walked up to the maître d' and Oliver smiled politely at him. “Good evening, I have a reservation for Queen.”
He mustered Barry for a moment and sniffed. “Sorry, sir, you have to be wearing a tie to dine in our restaurant. I have to ask you to leave.”
“C'mon, Oliver, let's just go.”
“No, we're not leaving,” Oliver frowned. “I'd like to speak with your superior.”
As if on cue, a woman approached them with brisk steps. “Mr. Queen, I apologise for my new employee.” She shook Oliver's hand and shot the maître d' a venomous look; he had the decency to look sheepish. “Follow me, please.”
She led them to their table, apologised for the inconvenience again, and promised them a bottle of their best wine on the house.
“So,” Barry started when she left. “You know the owner?”
“Yeah, my family used to come here all the time,” Oliver shrugged and laid his hand on the table, palm up. Barry took it with a smile.
He tried to get comfortable, but he could feel people staring and quietly judging him. He knew he didn't fit into this world – Oliver's world, his brain reminded him unhelpfully – but he would try. For his boyfriend.
He was happy when the waiter brought their menus – he'd eaten two protein bars, just in case, but was still a bit drowsy from his earlier nervousness. He was less happy when he saw that everything was in French.
“Do you know what you want?”
“Uh...” As smart as he was when it came to many things, Barry was no expert in foreign languages. But there had to be something familiar on the menu... “I- I think I'll take the... Foy grass?”
Oliver closed his menu and laid it on the table. “You mean the foie gras? Are you sure?” Barry shrugged, biting his lip. Shit, he was so embarrassed. “You want the goose liver?” Barry grimaced. Oliver squeezed his hand. “Are you comfortable here? We can leave...” He shook his head and looked down. Oliver had sounded so excited about their date, and Barry felt like he was ruining it.
“Come on.” He stood up just as the waiter came back, and took the bottle of wine out of his hands. “Thanks, we'll take this.” Barry couldn't hold back a smile when they walked past the surprised staff and left the restaurant.
They stopped at a burger joint – Oliver looked ridiculous ordering junk food in his suit and tie – and sat down on a park bench. Barry jokingly complained about being cold – he wasn't really, it was surprisingly mild for this time of the year – and Oliver scooted closer so that their sides were pressed together. They ate in comfortable silence, and Barry couldn't stop smiling all the way through.
“I don't think I've ever had burgers with wine,” Oliver mumbled as he opened the bottle. They each took a swig.
“This doesn't taste any different from cheap wine.” Barry frowned at the bottle.
Oliver laughed. “You're right. The only difference is that it's disgustingly expensive.”
He put the bottle away and smirked at Barry. Oliver was so close, he could identify the different shades of blue in his eyes. He was certain his wildly beating heart could be heard several blocks away.
They leaned in simultaneously, and Barry made the mistake of closing his eyes. Their noses bumped together hard, and Barry pulled away in embarrassment only to snort unattractively. Oliver bit his lip, clearly trying to hold back a grin, and Barry flushed.
They looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“Why is this so...”
“Weird? Awkward?”
“Yeah.”
Barry shrugged. Oliver rubbed his nose on his shoulder before leaning his forehead against it.
“Sorry,” Barry whispered. Oliver frowned. “For... you know. Ruining dinner.”
“Shut up. You didn't ruin anything.” Oliver pressed a kiss to his neck, making Barry shiver. “It doesn't matter where we go, as long as I'm with you.”
Barry huffed out a laugh. “Gee, who knew you were such a sap.” He couldn't help but blush anyway.
Oliver hummed. “Stay the night?” he mumbled. Barry looked down at him with wide eyes. Oliver turned his head and gazed up at him. “Not- Not for that. Just... I don't want this date to end yet.”
Barry wrapped an arm around him, pressing his cheek to his forehead, and muttered, “'Course I'll stay.”