Psychology Lesson #9:

Social Penetration theory refers to the way in which as familiarity increases, relationships grow deeper into more private and intimate matters. There are five stages.

1. Orientation stage
This is the sort of introductory stage where conversations consist of small talk and shallow topics, keeping within the boundaries of social expectations and norms.

2. Exploratory affective stage
This is where a relationship grows that little bit more comfortable, and the people involved begin to explore and express themselves a little more in terms of personal attitudes and concerns regarding topics such as politics. A lot of relationships stay in this stage - where a friendship is formed, but the people are maybe still somewhat restrained as not to scare or offend.

3. Affective stage
In the Affective stage (which is what the chapter title concerns), people begin to talk a little bit more about personal matters, and people are more comfortable contrasting the views of the other and expressing a differing opinion or a criticism. This is also the stage where intimate touching and kissing may begin if the relationship is going to develop into a romantic one.

4. Stable stage
People begin to share even more personal, deeper things - secrets etc, and it begins to become easier to gauge and predict the emotional reactions of the other person following certain events. This is the highest stage before the relationship decreases.

5. Depenetration
At this stage, the relationship begins to crumble due to the cost/benefit ratio being tipped in favour of cost. The people involved stop disclosing so much with one another. This can lead to termination of a relationship.


Despite the fact that he'd insisted on Barry waiting in the classroom out of concern for his safety, the sense of relief that he'd felt when he found the boy in one piece was through the roof. Whatever Snart was planning, it didn't seem like he was going to do anything today.

Which... was worrying, really, because if not today, when? What exactly was he planning that involved more than one day's preparation? The whole thing settled unpleasantly in Oliver's stomach, simmering slowly, threatening to boil over without a moment's notice.

"So, you've been quiet. Everything okay?"

They were sitting in Oliver's car, and quite honestly, Oliver couldn't really say when they'd got there. He'd been pretty out of it the entire walk from Barry's classroom to the car park, and, yeah – he'd been quiet. He knew that.

"Sorry," Oliver replied with a deep sigh, dragging his hands over his face. He didn't want to bring the whole Snart thing up. Didn't want to worry Barry. He was pretty sure, in all honesty, that Barry was quite aware of the way that Snart had been looking at him after class, anyway. Barry wasn't stupid. In fact, he was one of the smartest students in their entire school. Oliver had no doubt that he'd worked out that there was something suspicious going on.

They didn't talk about it.

They didn't talk about it when Oliver revved the engine, nor when he pulled out of the parking space. They didn't talk about it as he followed Barry's directions along the busy highway, grunting in frustration every time they stopped at a light. Despite the fact that not much had happened, the day seemed to have been more emotionally exhausting than usual.

The air in the car was thick and heavy, though, with all that was going unsaid – and he didn't just mean the looming threat of Snart hanging over them like a dark cloud.

There was also this... thing that was between them, whatever it was. This push and pull that seemed to have them drawn towards one another at one moment and pushing away at the next, Oliver unable to do so much as sit in the same vicinity as Barry without aching to close the distance between them. Gripping his hands a little tighter on the steering wheel, he avoided Barry's piercing gaze, the other boy seemingly searching him for answers that just wasn't ready to give.

Needless to say, Oliver felt the relief wash over him when he pulled into the small driveway and the engine stuttered to a halt. He cleared his throat, then nudged his way out of the car, Barry following suit.

"It's not much," Barry told him apologetically as they crunched their way across the path, and Oliver glanced up at the building.

Yeah, okay, was small. He knew that it would be. But that didn't mean that it was any way better or worse than Oliver's home. Instead of the well-trimmed lawns that sat before the Queen mansion, Barry's garden was slightly overgrown, wildflowers scattered around the vicinity, and it was kind of beautiful, in a sense. Then again, Oliver did always have a fondness of natural beauty.

Barry continued to watch him closely, biting his bottom lip nervously from the front door as Oliver surveyed the area, as though he was terrified that Oliver might laugh in his face, and Oliver's heart sunk a little in his chest, because he was once again reminded of how much Barry suffered on a day-to-day basis by being knocked down constantly – sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally.

"It's nice," he told him earnestly. "Natural."

Barry snorted, rigid shoulders relaxing a little. "You mean messy."

He felt the corners of his lips tug into a small smile and folded his arms together. "No, I mean natural." He paused for a few seconds, considering his next words carefully. "As soon as a hedge even remotely threatens to develop an extra branch in our gardens, my mom has the gardeners on it in a snap of her fingers. It's nice to see things grow without those restrictions."

"Restrictions can be bad for the soul," Barry agreed with a nod, tone laced with meaning that suggests that plants were the last thing on his mind right now. "I mean... how can you grow if someone is always tending you so that you fit what they want you to be, rather than who you truly are?"

All of a sudden, the air around them fell heavy, and Oliver drew in a breath as he let Barry's words flicker through his head, picking out the hidden meanings that – in all honesty – weren't really that well-hidden at all. He was saved the necessity of thinking of a reply, though, when Barry tore his eyes away in favour of rustling through his pocket for his keys, then opening his front door with a soft click.

The inside of the house was warm and bright – all colour and photographs lining the walls, giving off an air of home and family and Oliver ignored the slightly jealous twinge to his chest caused by that.

It wasn't like his mother didn't love him – she did, absolutely. His mother was a strong, passionate woman who sometimes had to look out for her own needs above all others, or what she thought was best for her family. It didn't mean that she wasn't sometimes wrong, but Oliver still struggled with going against her, all the same.

But it was for this reason that his home often felt empty. All long hallways and aesthetics that were pleasing to the eye, but not so much to the heart. His mother showed her love not by spending quality time with Oliver and Thea and filling their home with memories and mementos, but by always pushing them to do better – to be better.

They settled on the couch, and Oliver's mind was suddenly drawn away from his mother and onto the warmth of the body beside him. The size of the small, leather two-seater left little room for personal space, meaning that their thighs were mere inches apart, arms brushing together as the younger pulled his backpack onto his knees in favour of bringing out study materials – notes, books, laptop et cetera. As it was all spread before them on the small, wooden coffee table, Oliver was swiftly reminded of the reason that he was here in the first place.

Right. The project.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the rush of warmth that spread through him when Barry pressed closer in favour of reaching over to pull the laptop towards them, fingers settling on his thigh for balance. Oliver felt his cheeks heat up, and was pretty sure there were specks of pink all over his face, but if Barry noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Okay, we've went into evolutionary theory a little. I don't think we should cover more than we already have on it. It's outdated. So we should probably concentrate on something a bit more up-to-date, don't you think?"

Oliver nodded, trying not to focus too much on the way that Barry nibbled on the cap of his pen, or the fact that they both seemed to be drifting closer. Somehow, the gap between their thighs was now closed over completely – and when the hell did that even happen?

"So, uhm. I think we should maybe talk a little about social backgrounds?"

"I- yeah." In all honesty, he felt completely useless, here. He'd talked a tough game about being able to help, but he was well aware that Barry was far more knowledgable on the subject than he was. Barry seemed unperturbed, though.

"So, I think we should probably cover Social Homogamy Theory?" He asked, as though Oliver would have had the slightest clue what he was talking about. Oliver sent him a glare.

"I- okay. It's- um-" Barry stumbled through his words upon Oliver's expression, and he grimaced internally, noting that he really needed to stop being so grumpy around Barry – the last thing that he wanted to do was scare him away.

"Sorry," Oliver sighed, rubbing his palms over his face in frustration. "It's just- I feel like you're doing all the work here, and I'm kinda starting to feel a bit useless."

At that, Barry's face softened, understanding eyes glancing back at him.

"You're not useless," He replied earnestly, pressing his lips into a small empathetic smile. "I mean, we'll have to research some stuff, too. I can tell you the basics, and then we'll need to find some studies to back up what we're talking about. I'm just laying the groundwork, that's all."

Oliver nodded stiffly, gesturing for Barry to continue.

Barry took a deep breath, before pulling one of the massive, thick books entitled Social Psychology in front of them onto his lap and flipping through the pages before passing it to Oliver. "This article is from 1994, so it's not exactly new, but considering that Darwin's natural selection theory dates back to the mid to late 1800's, I'm pretty sure we can consider it more up to date."

Oliver huffed, glancing down at the pages before him. The book featured an article by a guy named David Buss, complete with a picture that must have been the guy who had written it. He looked as though he was in his mid to late fifties, sporting rectangular framed glasses and a smug smile on his face.

"Buss argued that people who are born into or raised in similar social and economic backgrounds are drawn to each other," Barry continued. "It's kind of like a form of idealism – you date the type of person that'll fit into your lifestyle."

Barry's lips pressed into a slight frown, as though he was mulling the words over in his head, and a small crinkle appeared between his brows.

Oliver cleared his throat."Bullshit."

"What?"

"That's bullshit. You can be in a different social class, and still be attracted to a person."

"I mean, yeah. The thing about these kinds of theories is that there's always contrasting evidence, or new, more up-to-date information that kind of renders it useless, and we should probably look at that kind of thing. But we can't base our report on our... personal experience."

The last part of the sentence was said in almost a whisper, and Oliver was sure that he wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been so focused on the movement of Barry's lips. He averted his gaze back to the book, trying not to think of exactly what Barry meant by personal experience.

He knew, of course. They both did. The things that they weren't saying had become clear as day, really, and the elephant in the room seemed to grow bigger and bigger every time they were around one another. It was suffocating.

Barry swallowed thickly, and Oliver could feel his gaze heavy on him. His hands trembled on the book that he was holding, eyes tracing over the words that just didn't seem to be making sense anymore.

The density of the air seemed to increase as Oliver turned to regard Barry's expression, the book falling from his hands and onto the floor with a soft thunk that neither boy really registered – they were far too busy staring at one another's lips. The rest of the word seemed to melt away a little.

He had a choice, here. He could either continue to ignore this thing with him and Barry – draw back, pretend that this draw between them wasn't there – he's fairly certain that Barry wouldn't say a word.

But then again, there was the frantic pounding of his heart and the goosebumps that Barry seemed to draw across his flesh whenever the other boy so much as brushed against his skin, and the way his stomach swooped and fluttered with interest any time the other boy is nearby, and how is it even possible for him to ignore it?

He brought one of his hands to Barry's face, his thumb tracing over his cheekbone lightly as Barry's soft pants ghosted against his lips – and holy shit, when did he get so close? Did Oliver move, or did Barry? Did they both? Oliver wasn't really sure anymore – the only thing that he was certain of was that that their lips were mere centimetres apart.

As he glanced down at the soft, inviting lips, Oliver was well aware that he was about to cross a line that he couldn't uncross. Kissing Barry while drunk was one thing – he could blame the alcohol for making him do something that he wouldn't do normally. But he was making a conscious choice, here. Whatever he chose to do next, he couldn't back away from it. He was either all in or not at all.

He leaned forward, tugging Barry towards him, capturing his lips with his own, and Barry let out a soft groan at the impact, shuffling to deepen the kiss. He moved his hands to the back of Barry's head, running his fingers over his already haphazard hair, and felt Barry sigh contentedly against his lips. His heart seemed to flutter with joy in his chest, setting his pulse racing.

Before he knew it, Barry was on his lap, both boys chest-to-chest, Oliver angling his neck and Barry leaning down, hands trailing over his face, exploring as Oliver's hand ran under Barry's shirt a little, fingers grazing the skin of his abdomen, drawing a stuttered gasp from Barry.

Oliver was a little weirded out by how not-weird it felt to kiss a guy for the first time. But maybe it was just the fact that he'd thought about this kiss for so long – ran it through his mind, considered the possibilities – what Barry would taste like, how he would feel pressed against him, how his lips would mould against his own. Somehow, it's simultaneously everything and nothing like he'd expected.

Sure, he'd kissed Barry already, but it was a peck on the lips before Barry had pushed him away. Which.. yeah. This kiss kind of gives him some clarity about that night - that Barry had only pulled away out of concern for Oliver's ability to consent in his drunken state, because the other boy was certainly eager enough now – giving back what Oliver gave him in equal measures, threading his fingers through the short strands of Oliver's hair, thighs resting at either side of Oliver's legs.

Needless to say, they didn't get any more studying done. Oliver had never spent so long mapping out another's mouth before, but he could safely say that he could do it with Barry forever. He stroked his palm gently over the other boy's cheek, and Barry sighed happily against his lips.

They broke apart, both gasping for air and Oliver shifted a little at how tight his pants had suddenly grown. Barry, to be fair, didn't really look much better off. He looked like sin incarnated, actually – all flushed cheeks, spit-slick lips and Oliver could definitely feel a hardness against his thigh.

And shit, they were both going to have to take long showers after this.


Somehow, it became a thing. They'd try to study – honestly, they would – but now that they'd opened the floodgates, Barry was pretty sure that they'd never be able to shut them again. They just seemed to... drift towards one another.

It was... interesting. Barry had never really kissed anyone before. Well, there was the kiss with Felicity, but that didn't really count, right? It was over in a matter of seconds, and neither of them were even remotely into it.

Kisses with Oliver, though, god. They were all sizzle and fire and passion and just... everything he'd heard about in novels on television, but hadn't really gotten to experience up until now.

They didn't talk about it. It was just something they did now. They weren't a couple – neither of them seemed remotely willing to discuss what they were, though.

It wasn't just during their attempted study dates, either. One minute, Barry would be walking along the corridor to his next class, and the next minute, Oliver would be tugging him into the janitor's closet in favour of pressing him against the door with a soft thud and pushing their lips together, Barry's fingers knotting into Oliver's shirt as he let himself get carried away.

Apart from the impromptu makeout sessions, though, school had been pretty uneventful. Things had been pretty quiet on the Snart front, and classes had been pretty dull.

That wasn't to say that Barry had dropped his guard, obviously – he'd noticed the looks that the bully had been giving him since Psychology on Monday, after all, and it gave him a sort of nervous twinge in his stomach, because whatever he was planning, it was going to be bad. All that Barry could do, really, was be prepared for the worst.

Which is why when Oliver suggested that they actually went back to his house on the Thursday evening to actually train like he'd promised, he pretty much jumped at the chance.

He hadn't really planned on Oliver backing him up against the wall once they were both stripped of their shirts and attacking his neck like a vampire, though, before they'd even started, puckering his skin ever so slightly and leaving bruising marks.

"Crap, fuck... Oliver, stop." Barry gasped, grasping onto his upper arms, the rush of blood travelling down south wanting the other boy to do anything but stop. Oliver stilled under his hands, drawing back and looking at him with worried eyes.

"I- did I hurt you? Shit, Barry, I'm so-"

"No!" Barry exclaimed, pressing a soft kiss to Oliver's lips. Somehow, despite the sheer amount of making out that they'd been doing, it seemed more intimate than anything they'd done yet, and Oliver seemed to melt into it a little before he pulled away. "I just-" He bit his bottom lip, trying to gather his willpower. "If we do this, we won't get anything done, and I'm-"

He cut himself off before he could say that he was worried about what Snart would do to him and wanted to prepare, but Oliver seemed to read it in his expression nonetheless, because he pressed his forehead softly against Barry's with a soft sigh. "Yeah, just... give me a minute? I need to, uhm..." He glanced down to where their hips pressed together, and Barry felt a flush creep up the back of his neck.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, letting out a shaky breath as Oliver took a step back, putting a little distance between them so that they could both cool down.

Okay, yeah. This new aspect to their relationship, whatever it was, was certainly going to make getting stuff done way more difficult.