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It’s not often that they get to do something like this, and really, in comparison to the Natural History Museum that Barry had visited in London as a kid, this one is pretty small. Still, it’s nice to be able to be with Oliver in this setting.
Oliver’s been pretty quiet the entire time. To his credit, it’s not really his thing. But it had been Barry’s turn to pick, and this is what he’d chosen.
He’s starting to think it had been the wrong decision, though.
After about ten minutes of straight silence as Barry spends some time reading over the plaques and blabbering on about the exhibits, going into what is probably a ridiculous amount of detail on the process of evolution, he lets out a sigh.
“Look, Ollie. I- I don’t mind if you want to go,” says Barry, raising to meet Oliver’s height. But as soon as he does, his eyes widen a little.
He’s not sure what he’d been expecting in his date’s expression. Exasperation. Boredom, maybe. But he hadn’t been expecting the fond smile that Oliver’s currently wearing on his lips.
Eyebrows furrowing a little, his head cocks ever so slightly, as though he’s trying to put together a mildly challenging puzzle. He supposes that’s true, in some respect. There will always be things about Oliver that remain mysterious to him, no matter how many dates they go on. He’s okay with that, though. He’s just glad that Oliver’s willing to open up to him at all.
Still, it would be kind of nice if his boyfriend would answer him. “What are you smiling at?” he asks, slightly bemused.
“What do you mean?” Oliver asks, but his smile doesn’t wean any – actually, if anything, it’s morphed into a smirk.
“Seriously. What?”
“What? I can’t enjoy the view?”
Barry quirks an eyebrow, mouth forming a thin line, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “For real? You’re just going to stand there and-“
Lips on his own interrupt his half-formed sentence, and hands skim over his cheeks, and for a few minutes, Barry forgets where they are and sinks into the kiss – melts, really.
When they part, Barry’s pretty sure his eyebrows have progressed to his hairline. “W-what was that for?”
“You’re the cutest, hottest nerd on the planet,” Oliver replies with a shrug.
But there’s more to it than that, Barry knows. Oliver’s not the PDA type of guy. His face softens at the look in Oliver’s eyes, though, and he doesn’t need the words to confirm what the older vigilante is thinking.
Oliver loves him. Simple as that. And, really, it’s the kind of confirmation he needs that makes the knot in his chest loosen, leaning in to press his lips back to Oliver’s again, their noses bumping together when they part after a few seconds.
“What was that for?” Oliver asks.
Barry shrugs, his own smirk forming. “You’re a dork.”
Maybe sometime soon they’ll manage to gather the courage to say those three words out loud, but the smile that Oliver gives to his reply is enough to tell Barry that they at least understand each other.