Work Text:
Barry caught a whiff of bergamot as he strolled into the lab. Absent from Julian's desk was any sort of mug. "Are you wearing aftershave?" Earl grey had never been, pun not intended, his cup of tea.
But damn did it smell good.
“Good morning to you, too, Mr. Allen.”
Meticulous stacks of case files sat around his labmate. Each one represented not just a crime scene, but someone’s mother or son, maybe a cousin or a niece. Julian spent a lot of time reading in between the lines. Barry wished that he had noticed it sooner.
“I don't recall gossiping being listed under the job description." Papers shuffled around as if Julian had lost something.
“I was just making conversation.” Barry winced at how defensive he sounded.
Julian paid him no heed.
With a sigh, Barry settled in behind his desk and eyed whatever paperwork had been left for him this time. “It smells nice.”
The rustling stopped. “I’ve only just begun to tolerate you, Barry. Try not to screw that up.”
Barry forgot to bite his tongue. “Was that a confession just now?” And because his tongue had been afforded certain freedoms, the corners of his mouth followed suit and curved towards the ceiling.
And to his surprise, Julian answered in earnest. “Yes. It was.”
The old cliche about hearts hammering and leaping out of chests rounded its glorious head and Barry swallowed a bundle of nerves that churned his insides.
“Oh.”
Adding insult to injury was the way Julian remembered how to smile; Barry tried to commit the split-second image to memory, framing it alongside his beloved mother and his father’s face free of lines.
“Do you know why I’m still so frigid with you?” Julian had looked away to leaf through stray documents. The creases upon his forehead smoothed out in relief. Must have found what he was looking for.
Barry hesitated. “Why?”
“Because.” Like the beautiful creature that he was, Julian settled against Barry’s desk with no regard for boundaries. As if he owned the place. “If I were to show you kindness, you’d arrive at untoward conclusions.”
Barry’s breath caught in his throat. Developing a sudden interest in the supplies strewn upon the shelves, he lifted a hand to the back of his neck and gave it a soothing rub that did little more than to heighten the tension. He cleared his throat.
“Conclusions,” Barry echoed against his better judgment. “You’re saying that I think…”
“Don’t you?”
“I, uhh, well… that’s…”
Julian smiled that polite prop of a smile of his. “You’re cute, Allen, but there are policies against fraternization for a reason. I’m not looking to invite drama into the workplace.”
Blown away by the bold accusation, Barry threw a hand up to shield himself from Julian’s brusque scrutiny. An exasperated scoff escaped from him. “You say that like I’ve made some kinda move on you!”
Never mind the fact that while dating your co-worker was frowned upon, neither of them were bound by the same regulations as officers. (Leave it to Julian to be such a stickler.)
“Shall I draw upon evidence? Inviting me for drinks, asking me to a movie, mooning over my technique--”
Off went the lightbulb and with it, Barry’s composure, the two keen on locating his power of reason. “Oh my god. You don’t even have a girlfriend, do you? This, this is how you flirt.”
The mask that Julian wore cracked until genuine warmth spilled out. Amused furrows formed along his brow. There was a human beneath that stoic professionalism, one who Barry very much struggled to understand.
And then he realized something: Julian Albert was hoping that Barry Allen could understand.
“Hmm.” Julian was chirping. “Is it?”
Barry fought the urge to roll his eyes. As if he’d go for such obvious bait. “I wasn’t ‘mooning’ over your technique. I was complimenting you, something you’re clearly incapable of.” He folded his arms and cocked his head to the side, daring the man to prove him wrong.
The self-satisfaction that littered Julian’s jowls more often than not smoothed away into something shy, something vulnerable. “You always toss your hopes up well into the heavens, ignorant of the danger you invite by dangling it so boldly. At first, I thought you naive for it.” He pushed off of the desk, circled around, and peered down at Barry. “If I can admit to being wrong about you, would you do the same for me?”
“But I’m not wrong about you,” Barry exhaled. “Like you said, I had faith in you.”
Julian canted his head forward, slow and deliberate. His voice caught in his throat. Flustered, he withdrew and paced towards the windows until he was bathed in light, wreathed in gold.
To Barry’s reflection, Julian said, “A man filled with doubts meets another who was blessed with unfailing resolve. The former unwittingly projects upon his counterpart and tries to flee at the first reminder that he’s not invincible, that he is fallible. But he witnesses the other man struggle. He sees how the other man tries over and over again, unwilling to allow himself to be consumed by fear. It’s obvious which one of them is stronger. One day, he finally recognizes the beauty in that.” He dared to look over his shoulder. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve moved past my envy?”
Barry rose from his seat and joined Julian at his side. “That you can change for the better? That we can?” He clapped a hand upon the man’s shoulder, itching for a more intimate gesture.
He must have been easy to read because Julian began to thumb across his knuckles. Barry expelled his nerves with a chuckle. “Yeah, Julian, yeah, I’d like that,” he replied without so much as a tremor.
"Here." Julian pushed the documents he'd been hunting for into Barry's arms. "Since you were so enamored with my 'evidence-collection techniques', as you so aptly put it, I dug up my dissertation for you."
"Show off." But he was grinning.
As Barry flipped through, Julian leaned forward and affirmed, "So that we're on the same page, I am, indeed, wearing aftershave.”