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“Woah!” The blur that is the Flash jerks violently to a stop - he’s timed his shot perfectly, it looks like, the cable wire snagging the other around one leg - but then there’s a sickening crack as inertia catches up. “Ahhh! Oh my God!”
“Barry!” Oliver throws the bow aside and races over to where the speedster’s fallen to the ground, clutching at his leg. “Are you ok?”
“For real? You broke my ankle!” The younger man snaps. “What kind of question is that?”
He curses under his breath before crouching down. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
“Well that’s nice to know,” the other gets out through gritted teeth. “Always hard to tell with you. Ow ow, no Oliver please don’t–”
“I need you to straighten out your leg so I can look at it, Barry,” he calmly explains, even though it’s killing him to see the tears from pain already leaking at the corners of the man’s eyes as he only draws in further on himself.
“No but it’s just gonna hurt and we’re not gonna get back in time and it’ll reset wrong and Caitlin will have to break it again and there’s no painkillers–”
Barry’s going into shock from the sudden fracture, he realizes, eyes wide and fearful, breaths quickening to near-hyperventilation. He’s right, though, there’s nothing they can give him to dull the pain, no way to distract or comfort–
Oliver grips the back of Barry’s head with one hand and seals his lips over the other’s. It takes Barry a moment to seemingly catch up with what’s happening, but then his eyes slip shut and it’s not just his lips that are pliant. Starting at the younger man’s inner thigh, he smooths a hand down his leg gently coaxing it to straighten out, and feels as well as hears the moan of pleasure against his mouth.
At the same time, he’s shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, which he has to break the kiss to finish. Barry whimpers and tries to follow his lips, but understanding blooms over his face as Oliver bends over his ankle, tying the cloth around it with an arrow braced on each side in a makeshift splint. It’s the best he has and he makes note to remember the damn medical kit next time.
“That should help it reset correctly,” he finally says, voice strangely husky, and he looks up to see Barry nod once with reddened cheeks and well-kissed lips. It’s an alluring sight and he’d be tempted to give in to it if there weren’t a pressing need to return to the lab.
So he pulls Barry up to standing with him, half-carrying him over to the bike. Other than a few winces and hisses of pain, it seems the Central vigilante has mostly calmed down and adjusted to the injury. He gives him the helmet and tells him to hang onto him, which again is met with another nod. He wants to entertain the idea that he’s left Barry in a daze, but somehow he thinks it’s more likely the younger man just doesn’t know where exactly they stand anymore, afraid of completely upsetting this delicate situation Oliver’s thrown them both into.
He makes a valiant attempt at returning to them to their normal banter, however, remarking to Oliver, “Caitlin’s going to kill you, you know.”
“Not if she doesn’t find out.”
“Oh yeah? What makes you think she won’t?”
“Well,” he hesitates a single moment - this change things, really change them - before deciding what the hell. “I already know how to shut you up.” He throws a smirk in invitation over his shoulder, and just manages to catch the pleased smile on Barry’s face before he flips the helmet’s visor down and wraps his arms around Oliver’s waist in preparation for the ride.
“That better be a promise.” Is muttered into his back. Oliver grins, then guns the engine.
“It always is, Barry.”