Summary: This had been a bad idea. A horrible, no good, really bad idea. Too bad Harrison didn't agree.

Author: After careful consideration, I have made a minor amends to the formatting to make things a little easier to follow. I'm going to be flipping between present day events and random times throughout the past. I either did this as a stylistic choice, or to punish myself, either way, it can be confusing. Ergo, at the beginning of each section there will be a time marker indicating present or a set number of months/weeks after the tidal wave. Now, enjoy.


Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if you only try.

-Present Day (One Year and Three Months After the Tidal Wave)-

Barry had been perfectly content with the idea of having Harrison come with him to dinner at Captain Singh's apartment. More than content, he'd been happy about it, so absolutely delighted that Harrison had finally, finally caved to one of his demands that he hadn't really thought about what that meant. He hadn't thought it through when he'd told the Captain they were both coming, or when he'd gotten dressed, Harrison nitpicking Barry's outfit, insisting that he change because they were not wearing matching sweaters. Which, okay, it wasn't matching, it was just that Harrison wore a lot of black and he'd bought Barry a lot of black when he'd replaced his wardrobe – also red and absolutely no yellow, but that was another issue.

Then he'd raised his hand to knock on Captain Singh's door and the realization of what was about to happen came crashing down. He was about to put Harrison in the same room as Rob and the Captain. Not that Harrison had never been alone with Captain Singh, but this was different. This was a social setting and suddenly Barry was remembering all those other dinners he'd been to without Harrison, the ones where the Captain and his fiancé had frequently inquired about Barry's health and happiness and inferred that they were concerned about both. Not just in general, either, they'd made it very clear that they were asking how Harrison was treating him, if Barry was happy with Harrison, if he trusted Harrison.

Oh god, this was bad. This was a horrible idea. Why in the name of all that was good and holy had he ever teased Harrison about coming with him? What had possessed him to…

"Are you planning to knock anytime in the near future?"

He dropped his hand from the door and turned to Harrison, who was watching with one hand tucked neatly into the pocket of his slacks, the other holding a bottle of wine, and inquisitively raised eyebrows. Actually, he looked good like that. Really good. Just close enough to annoyed that if Barry pushed a little, he could… no. Not the right time for that.

Careful not to use his speed, Barry lunged forward and shoved Harrison's hands out of the way, reaching into his pants pockets, front and back, then dug through the jacket as well, just in case.

"What are you doing?"

In lieu of an answer, he tucked his fingers under the waist band and ran them along it, then reached under the belt buckle as well, to make sure nothing sharp or pointy or potentially lethal had been hidden there.

"Barry…"

"I'm checking for weapons."

"I did promise not to kill anyone. Multiple times."

"You said nothing about maiming or torture." Something Eddie was constantly reminding him of, which, come on, man, let it go already. It was one time and Eddie couldn't shut up about it.

"Barry, I don't need weapons." Harrison held his arm up, the hand and forearm vibrating at a deadly frequency.

"Don't do that!" Barry grabbed it, shoving it down and out of sight. "You should go home. I take it back, I don't want you here."

Harrison's grin was positively evil. "I'm not going anywhere."

Switching tactics, Barry moved forward to relax against Harrison. "You don't want to do this. You hate social functions. Go home. I'll tell them you got caught up with a project, they'll understand. Then later tonight, you can tie me to your bed with the inhibitor cuffs and pull out my toe nails while you suck me off."

Harrison's nails bit into Barry's arm, his eyes darkening at the thought. Instead of agreeing, though, his smile widened. "As much as I enjoy torturing you, Barry, I try to reserve it for when you've truly earned it."

"Leave and I promise I'll earn it."

"I'm staying. We're going to have a lovely dinner and I'll still tie you to the bed tonight, only I'll come up with something far more entertaining than removing toe nails."

"We're leaving."

"Staying."

"Leaving."

"Staying."

"Lea…" Harrison's finger jabbed the doorbell, officially putting an end to the argument and Barry gasped, mouth open in shock. "You are going to pay for that, Harrison Wells. Mark my words, I will… Captain!"

There was a lengthy pause, the Captain looking between them curiously as he leaned heavily on his cane. "Am I interrupting?"

Barry looked helplessly around for some kind of distraction. Anything to take the focus off what Captain Singh might have overheard before he opened the door. His eyes landed on the wine bottle in Harrison's hand and he grabbed it, holding it out to the Captain. "Harrison brought alcohol."

As soon as the Captain had the bottle, Barry gave him a hug and he moved past him into the room. Behind him, he heard Harrison giving details of the wine. Barry didn't know much about wine, but he did know nothing Harrison drank was ever inexpensive. Rob was at the bar. On seeing Barry, he set his phone down and put his arms out. Barry hurried into them, making it quick, because Harrison's promises only went so far. When he pulled away, Rob tilted back to get a look at the door. "So, Dr. Wells really came?"

"Yeah, almost can't quite believe it myself." The door closed and Barry fought not to look back.

"Are you okay? You look a little pale."

Barry dodged back from the hand that reached for his forehead, acutely aware that Harrison was probably watching. "No, I'm just… hungry."

Rob chuckled and pulled a bowl of peanuts out from behind the bar. "Try not to eat the entire bowl. Dinner will be ready soon."

Usually when Barry ate at the Captain's, it was casual. They sat around the kitchen while Rob finished dinner, and sometimes didn't even move to the table in the dining room to eat, opting to stay at the island. Barry didn't talk much, except to answer their questions, but it was nice watching them together. It reminded him of being home with Joe and Iris, inside jokes and light hearted teasing.

Having Harrison there made it all… different. Barry went into the kitchen with Rob, but didn't move far enough in that he lost sight of Harrison and Captain Singh in the small foyer. He ended up standing in the doorway, neck craning when they moved into the living room.

"You're tense." Barry's head snapped over to Rob, who smiled. "I'm pretty sure Dr. Wells can handle David."

"It's not Captain Singh I'm worried about."

He realized what he'd said a moment later, but it was too late. The soft scrape of a wooden spoon on the side of the pot paused as Rob asked, "Really? Why's that?"

"Nothing, not… I didn't mean that."

Rob started stirring again, slowly, but Barry knew he wasn't giving up that quickly and it only took another second to confirm it. "Is something wrong with Dr. Wells?"

"No, just," he hesitated, because Harrison was always telling him how bad he was at lying. It was kind of a small miracle that he'd managed to keep anything a secret for any length of time. "We had a fight earlier."

"About what?"

Truth, stick with the mostly truth. "He's just worried about me. He does that a lot."

Rob nodded knowingly. "He's not the only one that worries. What was it this time?"

In the other room, they conversation had moved to the Captain's progress in therapy. He'd be using the cane to get around for at least the next several months, but the doctors and therapists all agreed it wasn't permanent. They also agreed he shouldn't push himself or he could risk a set back.

Secure that nothing diabolical was happening in the living room, he switched focus back to answering Rob's question. "I work too much. Which is completely hypocritical, it's not like he's ever home anyway."

"Really? I didn't know David had that much work for him right now."

Shit! He was getting distracted. "No, not, um… not at the station. He has some pet projects at S.T.A.R. Labs he's working on."

Rob pulled a spoon out of the drawer next to the stove, dipping it into the cream sauce and holding it out to Barry to taste. As much as Barry wanted to keep his eyes on Harrison, Rob was a really good cook. He dodged over, took the spoon, and, "Oh god, that is fantastic."

Rob chuckled, "I'm trying to make healthier versions of David's favorite foods."

Barry looked at the spoon dubiously, then licked it again to make sure there wasn't anything left. "That's healthy?"

"I never said healthy, I said healthier. I used half and half instead of heavy cream and I'm substituting chicken for eggplant and broccoli. Baby steps."

"If that's your idea of healthier, I may have to steal you for myself."

A hand landed on Barry's shoulders, stiff but gentle, a familiar warning. "Should I be worried?"

Barry forced a smile to keep from flinching, but it was a near thing. "Of course not, I was just saying that if Rob ever gets tired of his job, there's a position open as your personal chef."

"Considering the smell coming from this kitchen, I can't say I'm not tempted." Harrison's thumb moved over the back of Barry's neck, the nail scratching lightly into his skin.

Rob turned back to stove, a faint blush in his cheeks. "Well, that is very flattering, Dr. Wells. For now, dinner's ready."


[]


Barry was a tense line of anxiety throughout the dinner. Harrison's hand occasionally moved from his leg to the back of his neck with a light squeeze, but he couldn't decide if it was a warning or a reassurance. Probably both.

When dessert came, Barry was on his best behavior – well, almost. He hadn't been kidding about how good the lemon tarts were, but he'd had a Cisco Bar that afternoon – his last one, actually, he needed to make time to go see Eddie – so he managed to keep the moaning mostly under his breath.

There were a few minutes more of polite conversation between Harrison and their hosts, mostly about Rob's office. A lot of businesses had packed up and left after the flood, but Rob's company was doing well. Not that he'd intended to leave, either way. He was going to stay wherever Captain Singh was. Honestly, Barry was only half paying attention. Harrison's hand on his leg was distracting – the way his fingers kept brushing over the inside of Barry's thigh, close but not close enough.

By the time they left, it had been just over an hour and Barry was on edge. He was full of sugar, energy, and a rush like he'd gotten away with something. As soon as the elevator doors were shut, he pressed Harrison into the wall, grinning into the other man's face. "I want to run."

Harrison raised his eyebrows, but he didn't push Barry away. "We took a car."

"So?"

"We arrived in a car. We need to be seen leaving in one."

"Come on. If you catch me, you can have your way with me."

He said it with a smirk and wagging eyebrows, but Harrison didn't budge. "I don't need to catch you to have my way with you."

Barry stopped, momentarily frozen at the reminder that while Harrison may take control in the bedroom, it was always Barry who instigated. It was always Barry who insulted and insinuated until Harrison got annoyed enough to make him stop. It was always Barry who turned a fight into rough sex. It was always Barry who crawled into Harrison's bed after he'd been gone for a few days. It was always Barry.

"Fine." With a sigh, Barry pushed himself away, taking a more casual position next to Harrison. "Spoilsport."

"Have patience, Mr. Allen, we'll have cause to celebrate soon enough."

That sounded much more promising. "Yeah? And what'll we be celebrating?"

Please don't say the death of someone semi-important. Please don't say the death of someone semi-important. Please don't say the…

"I've finished rebuilding the Particle Accelerator. Again. I have to run a few more diagnostic checks, assemble the time machine, but then we can begin preparations for you to travel back and fix all of… this. Of course, your speed is still an issue, but I'm confident that has more to do with a mental block than actual ability."

He would have preferred the death of someone semi-important.

The doors opened and Barry followed Harrison out, stunned into silence. He said nothing while the valet retrieved the car and while they drove home. Picking a fight with Harrison was dangerous enough without adding a high powered sport's car into it. Not to say Harrison didn't notice Barry fuming, of course he did, but neither of them spoke until they were inside the house, safe from innocent pedestrians and prying ear.

"Barry…"

"I'm not doing it."

Harrison set his fake glasses on the entry table and pinched his nose, frustration clear in his labored sigh. "That's the other you talking, Barry."

"It's not."

"You can't let some romanticized version of yourself dictate how you proceed in the future. This future. Your future. He didn't save his mother, I'm sure he had his reasons, but those don't matter here and now."

"It's not because he said…"

"Here and now, you need to do what is right for you, for your city. There are thousands of people dead, people you can save. Not just your mother or your father or your friends, but half the city. Children, Barry."

"That's low. Even for you, that's low. Besides," Barry grinned, more wistful than genuine, "it doesn't work that way anymore. I don't work that way. You saw to that and this has nothing to do with him or his perfect world. This is about you and me. I'm not letting you leave me. I never agreed to that and I told you from the beginning that I wasn't doing it. I said…"

"You were upset, my betrayal was still fresh, but I would like to think I've earned your trust since then."

"Trust?!" Harrison took a step forward, which Barry involuntarily mirrored in a step back. This wasn't the kind of argument that was going to end in happy fun time.

"In the last year I have not lied to you once. I have kept every promise, even when you failed to keep yours."

Barry shook his head. "It doesn't matter. None of that matters. It never has. As much as I love you and I need you and I do, I really do, but I can't trust you. Not with this."

The silence between them was filled with electric tension. Harrison's eyes stuttered red, and then closed, just for a second. When they opened again, they were tight at the edges, but crystal blue. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Barry, unwavering. "I'm not asking."

"You can't make me."

And it wasn't like Barry didn't know that was a stupid thing to say. It sounded like a challenge, which it wasn't, it really, really wasn't, because no matter what Harrison did, Barry wasn't going to cave. Even knowing how stupid he'd just been, how antagonistic, it somehow managed to catch him off-guard when Harrison surged forward, driving him back into a pillar with a hand wrapped around his neck. Not an unfamiliar position for them, but given the conversation they'd been having, there was an odd sense of déjà-vu.

Instead of choking him, however, Harrison relaxed, slowly, by tiny degrees, until his fingers slipped off of Barry's neck to rest on his collar bone before reaching up and threading through his hair, pulling Barry forward to press their foreheads together. "Not tonight."

Harrison pushed off and walked across the room to the bar, taking a glass and canter out. Barry watched, a little numb and a lot confused, as Harrison poured himself a drink.

Not tonight?

Did he really think there was something he could do to make Barry change the timeline? He didn't know about Len or the Rogues, so they were safe. The absolute worst case scenario would be him going after Team Arrow or the Captain, but all Barry had to do was put himself in the middle until Harrison backed off. Of course, he couldn't be in two places at once, but he wasn't doing it. Even if that meant he lost someone else, he wasn't doing it.

The empty glass hit the counter with a clink and Harrison tilted his head to Barry. "Are you coming?"

He shouldn't. He should go take a few days, pout at the warehouse until Shawna and Lisa plied him with enough ice cream and candy that he felt almost normal. He should go to Eddie's and make Cisco Bars. He should just… go, but he couldn't.

"Yes."

From his vantage point, he saw the curve of Harrison's knowing smile and for the first time, Barry doubted himself.


[]


Rob tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. He played devil's advocate to David's cynical side and it worked well for them. When David had come to him with concerns about Barry – a lack of eye contact, nervous energy that never seemed to abate, the badly hidden relationship with Dr. Wells, and nights spent at the office rather than home – Rob had listened, but he'd kept an open mind. He'd suggested they have Barry over. He'd met the boy once before, but that had been just after the accident and Rob had been too worried and upset at the time to make any real observations beyond Barry being taller than he'd expected.

Just that first time having him over, getting to know him, was enough for Rob to agree there was something off, something that didn't quite add up, but even that didn't mean there was foul play involved. He trusted David's instincts, but he also knew that his fiancé felt responsible for everything that had happened to the city and especially to the people under his charge. Joe had been a good friend and Barry had started at the department young. It only made sense that David would want to help him and the only way he could do that was if there was something there for him to help Barry with.

Still, David insisted that he didn't trust Dr. Wells and it was hard for Rob to make a solid argument. He'd only met the man at the station a few times and always in passing, never with Barry around. This latest dinner party was the first time he'd seen them together and the longest he'd ever spent in the same room with Dr. Wells.

It didn't take long for him to realize David was right. Barry hardly said a word. He smiled, ate, and never once relaxed. Dr. Wells neither said nor did anything inappropriate, but his hand never left Barry for very long. When it wasn't rested on his shoulder or the back of his neck, it was on the kid's leg under the table. The few times he did let go, Barry became agitated, nervously looking from his food to Dr. Wells like he expected something to happen.

After they saw Barry and Dr. Wells out, David gave him just long enough to get a glass of wine before walking with him out to the balcony. It was nice out, warm with a faint breeze. The city was getting bright again. Rob looked out down at the people on the sidewalk fourteen floors bellow, while David stepped up next to him, setting his cane aside in favor of leaning on railing. "So?"

Rob sighed, drank half the glass and hung his head in resignation. "You're right. I don't like it, I don't understand it, but you're right. There's something wrong with Dr. Wells' relationship with Barry."

David took the wine from Rob's hand, sipping it himself. Rob turned his face to his fiancé. "You really think Eddie's in on it?"

"I know he's involved. I just can't figure out how."

"You could ask him."

"Can't risk tipping Dr. Wells off if I'm wrong."

"So, how do we figure out where Eddie stands?" Because Rob liked Eddie and he didn't want to imagine him being part of anything that would hurt anyone, let alone Barry. Of course, he would have said the same thing about Dr. Wells until just that evening.

"You leave that to me. All I need from you," David wrapped an arm around Rob's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder, "is your unwavering support."

"That's all?" Despite the severity of the situation or perhaps because of it, he couldn't help responding playfully. "And here I thought you kept me around for the soufflés."

"Well, I do love your soufflés."

He leaned in, brushing his lips to David's in a chaste kiss that promised to turn more passionate. Promised, but never delivered, because at that moment a voice spoke from their left, gruff and unexpected in the relative quiet of the night. "Captain David Singh?"

Rob jumped back several feet, fairly certain he was having a mild cardiac arrest from the surprise. When he'd recovered from the initial shock, he saw a figure in the shadows of their neighbor's balcony, crouched on the railing in green leather with a hood pulled up over his head and a bow in one hand. No. "Is that…?"

David had managed to remain mostly still, minus the hand that had instinctively reached for where his gun should have been. He didn't take his eyes off the intruder as he confirmed Rob's suspicion. "The Green Arrow."

The vigilante nodded. "We need to talk."