A/N: First Flarrow fic, and first fic in quite a while as well, set some unspecified time after flash 1x08 and arrow 3x08, and it would appear that I am Olivarry trash, 100% unrepentantly.

Chapter 1

There were plenty of things Joe West did not need on any given Saturday morning.

His son, more naked than he dared chance a second glance at and plastered all over one Oliver Queen was pretty damn high on that list.

Ever since Barry had woken from the coma, he had eaten more than Joe ever thought possible – even more than that summer he'd grown two feet in as many months - and slept less. Something to do with his crazy fast metabolism, Caitlin had tried to explain. Most of it had gone straight over Joe's head. So when Barry hadn't appeared for breakfast by mid-morning, Joe started to worry. Barry hadn't been home before Joe had gone to bed the previous night, although that wasn't unusual. What was more unusual was that he hadn't been woken by 'the Flash' crashing through the house at some god-awful hour of the night.

Perhaps Barry had developed the ability to not be a walking (or running, as the case may be) human disaster.
Or perhaps he hadn't made it home, was bleeding out in an alleyway somewhere; probably not dying, thank you accelerated healing factor, but definitely in danger of getting his secret identity outed and his scrawny butt arrested by Joe's own damn partner.
As if his life wasn't complicated enough.

So Joe was just checking on him; just putting his own mind to rest; just a quick glance as he eased the door open, hoping not to disturb a sleeping speedster.

Which was how he found Barry Allen, the same Barry Allen who had been his little boy, straddling the older vigilante and playing tonsil hockey enthusiastically with his hands all over the Arrow's broad chest. Queen's own hands might have been hidden beneath the sheets that at least mostly covered them from the waist down – and thank god for small mercies, Joe thought – but those sheets were too thin for Joe's liking. He could see exactly where Queen had those blasted hands and he didn't like it.

Quickly, he backed the hell up and shut the door.
Took a few deep breaths.
So this was something he had to deal with now. That's cool, Joe had handled everything else his kids had thrown at him thus far. Reptile camp, lightning strikes, kidnappings, meta-humans and that time his baby girl had tried to join the police academy. He could handle this too.

Joe opened the door again.
Yep, Queen was still there.
And still making out with his kid.

He stood there for a long moment. For a pair of supposed vigilantes, they could both use a little more hyper-vigilance.

Joe cleared his throat.
Barry squeaked, honest to god squeaked and rolled right off the bed and ought of sight with surprise.
(And yep, definitely naked)

Queen had the good grace to pull the sheets up a little further to cover his torso and some of the scars that littered it, which were doing absolutely nothing to convince Joe that the Arrow was any sort of suitable partner for his kid, in any sense of the word.

"Mr Queen," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Queen met his gaze without flinching, "Detective West."

Plenty of better men than Oliver Queen had quailed under Joe's steady glare – though until now, he'd been chasing all of those men out of his daughter's bedroom, not his son's. This was certainly a first. Not that Joe had any issue with boys wanting to kiss boys in general, or Barry wanting to kiss boys in particular, but he didn't like not knowing it. Barry might not have been his flesh and blood son, but he was as good as, and Joe didn't like the thought that there might have been something Barry hadn't felt comfortable coming to him with.

For as long as he could remember, Joe had watched Barry be in love with Iris, and watched as those feelings went unreturned. After the debacle that had been Barry's Christmas time declaration, he would've welcomed him finally moving on. Joe had come to grips with not getting Barry as a son-in-law and had even, grudgingly, begun to accept that that place might just have to go to Eddie instead.
But really, Oliver Queen?

Hell, after today, Iris owed Barry a big thank you because right about now, Barry had done the impossible. Compared to the bow-wielding, former playboy with a prior murder charge currently occupying his son's bed, Eddie seemed a perfectly acceptable boyfriend for his little girl.

That same bow-wielding, former playboy with a prior murder charge who was standing very, very naked in front of Joe right now. Smoothly and without any haste, Queen had shrugged off the sheets and retrieved a pair of sweatpants from the mess that decorated Barry's floor. He moved like a panther, all grace and barely restrained power, even with something as simple as putting his damn pants on.
And his eyes never left Joe's.

'Was that meant to intimidate him?' Joe thought to himself, 'Because he could be pretty damn intimidating himself when he wanted to be.'
And it would take more than some little naked punk to rattle him.

Barry, on the other hand, had popped up from the other side of the bed. Super speed must have counted for something because he had thankfully already found his boxers and was in the process of tugging a t-shirt on as well.

But not before Joe noticed that at some point, he had developed abs.
Since when did Barry Allen have abs?

"I'm okay," Barry said, a mile a minute as always, "if anyone was wondering. Nothing bruised other than my dignity."

"Both of you," Joe pointed a finger at Barry, "Downstairs in two minutes." Turning to Oliver, he added pointedly, "Dressed. I'll be counting."

Oliver might have been just about impossible to read, standing there all stoic and silent, and still mostly naked; but Barry was an open book to Joe, always had been. Joe could only watch as the blush which suffused Barry's whole body – from arousal, or embarrassment, or probably some combination of the two – fled and he swayed on his feet.

"Bar, you okay?" He asked as all the colour on Barry's face drained away.

"I don't feel so good," Barry looked up, his wide eyes were glassy where they met Joe's, before flicking rapidly over to Queen, "Ollie – "

The nickname sounded so small coming from his lips.
And then he was falling.

Joe was already reaching for him but Oliver beat him to it, vaulting over the bed frame and catching Barry before he hit his head on the cold floorboards.

"His pulse is rapid," Queen said tersely, those same hands which Joe had so disapproved of only minutes earlier covering Barry's chest to feel its rise and fall and deftly finding his pulse, "and his breathing is shallow."

"I'm calling an ambulance," Joe said, "He needs a doctor."

"No," Queen cut across him, something of the Arrow's deep growl slipping into his voice, "He needs Caitlin and STAR labs. Do you have a car?"

Joe nodded as Oliver lifted Barry's prone body into his arms effortlessly. He was starting to shiver as both men cast concerned eyes over him. Whatever issues Joe might still have had with Oliver Queen were put aside for a later date. Barry had called for him first, after all.
"You ride in the back with him."

'And you look after him,' went unspoken.

Queen nodded.
"Drive fast."