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“Tell me again why you dragged me here?”
Barry rolls his eyes, but grasps onto Oliver’s hand as they wind their way through the dense crowd. Really, it’s not really his thing, either. But Iris seemed to think that it’d be a good thing to buy them for their anniversary, and really, who is he to deny Iris anything? She is his best friend, after all.
“Come on. It can’t be all that bad. Maybe we’ll be able to crack a smile on that grumpy face of yours,” Barry quips, spinning on his feet as they get to their seats – front and centre, for real, Iris? – and pinching his cheek between his thumb and index finger, resulting in a half-hearted huff from his fiancé, who grumbles as he lowers himself onto the seat.
Mouth tightening into a thin line, Barry sinks down, too, but Oliver reaches out and takes his hand, giving an apologetic squeeze for his griping.
Really, by the end of the night, Barry’s starting to think that Oliver had been perfectly justified in his grumpiness. The show is awful, and the jokes are awkward and fall completely flat. His shoulders sink with relief, really, when the end of the show comes, only for him to groan and cover his face when the guy comes back for an encore.
In all fairness, that does make Oliver laugh in spite of himself.
Still, Barry finds himself perplexed. Unable to figure out why exactly Iris decided that it would be a good idea to send them to that godawful show, Barry nudges the door open to his apartment, and is met with darkness.
Weird. He’d been pretty sure he’d left the lamp on before he went out.
As he flicks the switch, though, he nearly jumps out of his skin as an explosion of whoops and cheers and party horns go off, and he grasps onto Oliver’s arm, heart thudding rapidly in his chest, breathless pants escaping him.
“What the-“
“Surprise,” Oliver murmurs into his ear, wrapping his arms around him from behind.
It’s then that he takes in the room – fairy lights decorate his entire living room, along with banners, balloons, and he can even see a table in the far corner with a wide spread of food. But more importantly, his family and friends, decked in assorted party hats and all laughs and cheers and, in Iris’ case, a smug smile on her lips.
“You knew about this?” Barry asks, glaring at his fiancé over his shoulder.
“Who do you think booked the tickets for the comedy show?” Oliver chuckles, kissing his cheek before brushing past him gently. “Now, excuse me. I need to go thank Iris for her cooperation.”
Really, as far as surprise engagement parties go, he can’t really complain. Looks like his night isn’t a bust after all.
But, oh, he’s so going to get Oliver back for this.