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Everything happens way too much in the morning, always leaving Barry more than little frazzled. Probably why he does what he does when Iris texts him at the awful hour of six fuck o'clock.
>>Iris (6:01)
Barry wht happnd?! U wre suposd 2 b hre 4 weeknd!
Fuck him with a spoon twice daily.
Of course Barry knows he was supposed to be at Central Station last night, running into the arms of his family. It's just that, ever since he left Central City with enough speed to literally break the sound barrier, he's been so caught up in helping people both in tripolymer and out that he kind of lets things like social obligations go. Which is awful, and he feels awful, and everything is just awful.
But the Arrow needs his help, whether the guy likes it or not, and Barry wants to show him that he doesn't have to murder anyone to do his job. This takes a lot of work - enough that he'd been too busy rescuing a bunch of civilians from a burning building and trying to convince Arrow not to shoot their bad guy in the spleen or something.
Hon-est-ly.
>>Barry (6:01)
Was out with bae, really last minute thing. I'll be there today, promise!
It's only after he sends the message that he actually processes what he just speed-typed while brushing his teeth.
"Oh, no-no-no-no-no!" he cries through the toothpaste, "Don't send, don't send! Come back! No-no-no!"
Too late.
>>Iris (6:02)
WHAT?!?!! DETAILS RIGHT NOW!!!
Barry groans.
>>Iris (6:02)
PICTURE! BARRY ALLEN, I DEMAND A PICTURE!
>>Barry (6:02)
Idk I'll have to ask him??
Oh, shit. He is going to die. Why? The only male friends he can actually even remotely call friends are Diggle and...well, Diggle, really, because if Oliver is actually counted here, Barry is definitely going to die. Even though Oliver Queen had been precisely who he meant.
Felicity could have helped with this. She's an awesome buddy and one-time date. But no, Barry's stupid brain had to shit out him instead.
Barry books his train tickets before heading to the precinct. He texts a quick Later, got work to Iris, but he knows that won't hold her off for long, especially if she tells Joe about it.
However, the Force appears to be with Barry Allen today. It turns out he doesn't have to die after all.
Barry's just about to head up to his lab to process some samples from the latest corpse: John Doe, cut open from groin to neck with his intestines wrapped around his organs like ribbons around a present. Only thing missing was his heart. (Welcome to Starling City, enjoy your stay.) On his way though, he sees Detective Lance, Laurel Lance, and none other than Oliver Queen standing in a loose triangle almost dead center of the bullpen. As usual, Lance looks pissed, Laurel looks impatient, and Oliver looks completely unassuming.
On closer examination, Oliver also looks incredibly nervous. Oliver doesn't do nervous.
Like the good teammate that he is, Barry changes direction and heads towards the stairs via the bullpen, skirting around their conversation just in time to hear -
"Well then, Mr. Queen, if you weren't swingin' around that fire last night, where were you?"
Oh no.
Oliver Queen's shot is deadly, but his excuses are the worst thing since Donald Trump. He's good on his feet, but not here, not in these situations. In other words, needs help again.
Barry doesn't think twice. He diverts his path and heads straight to the wolves, big smile already in place. His plan is to tell Lance he and Oliver were hanging out last night, completely platonic bro-time or something.
What comes out is, "Babe, what are you doing here?"
Lance and Laurel's jaws drop to the floor.
Fuck him in the anus with a meat cleaver. Thrice daily.
But then, something incredible happens. Oliver's jaw not only remains intact, he positively beams at Barry and gives him a nice peck on the lips.
"Well, you left a little early last night," he says, in a tone that might suggest Barry doesn't have to get anal-fucked with a meat cleaver; "I was just making sure you were okay."
"Sorry," cuts in Detective Lance, "What?"
Barry shrugs a shoulder, affecting a shy glance through his eyelashes like he's seen on TV. All the while, he is very aware that every eye in the precinct has zeroed in on the warm hand tracing up and down his back. The hand that belongs to Oliver Queen. This is happening.
Oliver explains, "We'd just decided to make our relationship public knowledge last night, but Barry got a call...from his family in Central City."
Barry settles against him, trying not to think about how nice it feels. "The fire'd just been put out, and they were wondering if I was okay. I live - near that building." Actually not a lie, if you counted forty-five minutes away as 'near'.
Laurel purses her lips, eyes bugging from her face. It's not a threatening look - more like she's torn between trying her damndest not to laugh and trying her damndest not to start an interrogation. Either way, she sounds eerily calm when she addresses her father next.
"See, Dad? Clearly Oliver's got a sound alibi. So stop bothering him already!"
Lance looks to Oliver, to Barry, to Oliver again. He mutters a non-committal apology and retreats back to his office. For her part, Laurel points to Oliver, mouths a very distinct "Later!" before turning on her ridiculously pointed high heels and strutting out.
Barry leads the way to his lab. As soon as the door's shut, he's ready to turn around and grovel for his life, until -
"Good thinking."
He blinks. "What?"
Oliver looks a bit uncomfortable, but not at all murderous, let alone inclined to pick up a meat cleaver. "Being in a relationship is a great cover for both of us. Gives us the opportunity to...spend time with each other more often than friends."
Barry cannot believe his luck. "Spend time, like...we could spend time together?"
Oliver glowers. "I don't need your help in the field."
"Clearly you do, and I'm going to give it to you whether you want it or not!" Barry flinches as soon as it's out of his mouth. "That - that sounded a lot better in my head."
And that is definitely the makings of a smile on Oliver's face. "I still won't accept it."
"Face it, Oliver. You're stuck with me. Now, can I take a picture of us to send to my friend? She'll kill me if she learns about...us -" that is going to be so weird, "before I tell her tonight."
He doesn't expect Oliver to kiss him again for the picture. He also doesn't expect how much he's liking these kisses.
Also, Barry Allen is fucked.