Summary: He didn't need help. He was a twenty-six year old man and he was perfectly capable of making his own decisions. He could take care of himself and if he wanted to sleep with a homicidal sociopath that was his business. So, why did everyone insist on trying to help him?
Author's Note: Confused, scared, concerned about Barry's psychological and moral well-being? So am I, and I know where this is going.
If things start happening, don't worry, don't stew, just go right along and you'll start happening too.
-Present Day (One Year and Four Months)-
Barry was a beautiful boy; a young man, really; taller than Eobard by inches, lean and tightly muscled, his skin smooth and pale. Every bruise reflected back darkly, every scratch and flush showed vivid red.
Eobard lay on his side, propped up on one elbow and looked down at the map work of color along Barry's back – courtesy of hitting the pavement at just over six hundred miles an hours. Faster, but not fast enough. The bone deep bruising that should have taken days to reach that level of lividity were, only hours later, a striking array of purple, green and yellow, spotting blood red in the center.
He ran a hand over the deeper scratches, guaranteed to scar before they healed completely. Although, with Barry's caloric intake increased, for not nearly as long as Eobard would like. He preferred them to last days, a week if he could manage it. His mark gouged, however temporarily, into his nemesis. His creation. His… not lover, that was far too kind a word for what they were to each other. He wasn't entirely sure there was a suitable word for it.
That wasn't to say some part of him didn't care for Barry. He cared for him far more than he would like to admit. In a fashion, he may even love him. There were days that he caught himself wondering what the rush was. Days when he considered staying just a little longer, enjoying this victory, however flawed it was, for a few more years. Then reality set in, and he remembered that the longer he stayed, the longer he kept this up, the more damage he did to the timeline and the more difficult it would be to find his way home.
Barry's obsession with him was an all consuming illness. Eobard had absolutely no illusions about that and despite what he'd told Barry, changing the timeline that drastically would have more consequences than just saving his mother. Ripples went in all directions and there was really no telling what or who would be affected. Eobard could use the wormhole to get to his timeline, regardless of what Barry did. Where Barry ended up was far less certain.
It was almost, almost regrettable, but he'd known how this was going to end from the moment Barry crawled into his bed. When he continued to do so, however reluctantly, until it became something more pressing, something Barry needed, something Eobard himself craved.
He settled his hand at the base of Barry's spine, thumb dragging over a series of five small, deep cuts at the back of Barry's hip. Eobard's finger nails digging in and holding on, moving Barry when the young man had tried to say he couldn't keep going – he could, Eobard was as aware of Barry's limits as he was of his own.
"You're being creepy again." Eobard dug his thumb into one of the marks, not maliciously, but enough to earn a sharp, seething breathe in from Barry, half asleep, eyes not even open. "What is it with you watching people when they don't know it? Is it a fetish? Are you a voyeur?"
Barry's eyes did open then, faintly glassy from only just having woken up and bright in the dim light of the bedroom.
Eobard softened the touch to something more soothing. "Perhaps in some respects. Though I've never been particularly fond of watching people do things I'd rather do myself."
To emphasize the point, he moved his hand lower and Barry chuckled into his absurd Star Wars themed pillow, a pilfered artifact from Cisco's apartment, along with the thin fleece blanket of a similar theme. When Eobard dropped his head down and pressed his lips to the back of Barry's neck, teeth grazing suggestively over already sensitive skin, Barry started to roll over, stopped himself with a cringe, and settled back onto his stomach. "What were you thinking about? Before I woke up."
Eobard responded by nipping at Barry's neck. "I was thinking that it will be very hard to let this go."
"You don't have to." Barry's breath hitched when the teeth scarped more firmly. "No, not… I mean, we were enemies before, so either I live a really long time, or you travel in time to pick fights with me on a fairly regular basis, right?"
Eobard hummed, "Spoilers, Mr. Allen."
Barry pushed up onto his elbows, shoving Eobard away in his haste. "Did you just quote Doctor Who?"
He hadn't meant to, but he had, hadn't he? That was… unfortunate. He started to refute it, if only because Barry's enthusiasm when Eobard slipped and quoted television shows bordered on childlike and that was hardly the tone he'd been trying to set for the evening. However, his argument was interrupted by the telltale buzz of an incoming text message from Barry's phone on the bedside table.
Barry's face screwed up in annoyance, but rather than ignore it, he sat up and grabbed the device, thumbing on the screen. The annoyance deepened as he responded. It buzzed again a moment later and Barry's mouth tugged in an abortive smile as he tapped furiously back.
"Barry…"
"Hold on."
Oh, the pitfalls of sleeping with the younger generation. Sadly, the infatuation with technology would only worsen over the years, as it grew and became even more interactive and immediate in its gratification.
Barry huffed at the next buzz and shook his head, responding one last time before putting it face down on the dresser. "Now, where were we?"
The phone buzzed twice in quick succession and Eobard caught Barry's hand reaching for it. "I was about to teach you that it's rude to get distracted when I'm trying to seduce you."
[]
It was two hours before Barry made it out of bed. Thankfully, with his bars on hand, he didn't have to take the bus. Unfortunately, he was still stiff and at least a little bruised. He was pretty sure he'd broken multiple bones when he'd hit the ground that afternoon.
Ever since the incident with the copper stealing meta six weeks ago, he hadn't gone to the warehouse injured. Len was too curious. Barry didn't want to give him a reason to start digging again. Unfortunately, Len hadn't taken 'I'm busy' for an answer, so Barry had agreed to come as soon as he could.
When Harrison had finished with him, he'd pretended to sleep until the other speedster had slipped out of bed and headed off to work on his particle accelerator. He thought he was so sneaky. Maybe he was, but with Barry fully charged, he wasn't sleeping anywhere near as heavily as he used to. It was fun to play the part, though, and it kept Harrison off his guard.
Despite the progress in the rest of the city, the east end was still primarily dark. Most of the residential streets had electricity, but the repairs hadn't extended to the warehouses and without street lamps it was nearly black this late at night. It was a good thing Barry had been there so many times he didn't need light to get around.
Inside, Len wasn't in his office and he wasn't in the store room, but Barry could hear voices upstairs. Len didn't usually hang out in the rec room, but if he wasn't downstairs…
Never mind, if Len wasn't there, he'd wait for him with the others.
He sped up the steps and through room, making observations as he went. Shawna was on the couch, looking annoyed and bored. Lisa was standing behind her, mouth open as she spoke to Mick, who stood a few feet away with his heat gun hanging off his belt. She looked almost angry.
Had something happened? He should have come sooner. Len never actually asked him to come to warehouse. He should have realized that meant something could be wrong. Still, it didn't look like anyone was hurt. If Len had been injured, Lisa wouldn't leave his side.
He dropped on the couch next to Shawna, grinning as she startled. "Hey!"
She smacked his arm and he rubbed the spot, incredulously. "What'd I do?"
"Scarlet."
He looked up and finally found Len, to the left of the door, arms crossed over his chest and his face set in a careful, neutral expression. Okay, that wasn't good. He was definitely upset at something Barry had done, Barry just had no idea what that something was. Oh, well, when in doubt, feign ignorance. "Sorry it took so long. Everything okay?"
Behind him, Lisa walked off and made her way into the back where the bedrooms were, but Barry couldn't bring himself to look away from Len, who was staring at him with unnerving intensity. Okay, this was weird. It was beyond weird. Not that Len never did his serious stare, he just never did it when anyone else was around. It wasn't just Len, either, Shawna and Mick were both glaring at him like he'd committed some kind of crime and he hadn't. At least, he didn't think he had.
Barry took a moment to think it through and, nope, no crimes. Well, technically, he was aiding and abetting Harrison, who had killed people and that was a crime, but Len couldn't know about that.
Then the universe decided to betray him and Barry stared in shock as Lisa walked in, Eddie behind her and behind him, Oliver in his Arrow gear.
"No!" He stood up, but Shawna had a hand on him and he knew if he tried to move, she'd teleport him back to the couch just as quickly. "You can't be here! You're not… You can't! You said Oliver. We agreed you'd get Oliver. You can't involve them. That wasn't the plan!"
Eddie stayed back with Oliver, near the kitchen table. Lisa came back to the couch, putting herself in front of Barry. "Relax, Barry, we were already involved."
"What?"
Len hadn't moved from the door, but his voice cut across the room like a shot. "Sit down, Barry."
Barry hesitated, but, really, the damage was already done, wasn't it? He sat with a huff, Shawna sitting with him, her hand still resting like a warning on his shoulder. Lisa took the other side, boxing him in between the two of them while Len and Mick stared him down from their respective positions and Oliver just looked at him with disapproval. He felt like an eight year old being put in time out. Actually, that probably wasn't that far off from the truth.
Oliver spoke next, his voice soft and coaxing. "Barry, Eddie's been telling us some… disturbing things."
Stupid Eddie.
"He says Harrison Wells is the Reverse-Flash."
Barry licked his lips and focused on the ground, trying to come up with explanations, excuses, lies. Except they wouldn't believe him, not when he'd been so evasive. They'd take Eddie's word over his, or they'd start tailing Harrison to find the truth out for themselves, which was just as bad.
Reluctantly, he nodded.
"And you really are in a relationship with him?"
Barry picked at his trim of his running shoes as he admitted the truth with a short, "Yes."
"Is it," Oliver paused like he was searching for the right words and that couldn't be good. "Barry, is he forcing you?"
"No."
"Is he blackmailing you?"
"No!"
"Then explain it to me. Because I find it difficult to believe you would willingly sleep with the man who killed your mother."
He chanced a look up and it wasn't pity, or even anger he saw around him, it was concern. Well, concern and Len's alarming stare that wasn't helped when the man spoke. "He's hurting you."
And suddenly, Barry was very aware of the half healed scratch marks along his back, the bruising on his thighs and around his wrists. Shit. Shit shit shit. No point lying about that, either. They wouldn't take his word for it and he was a thin shirt and hoodie away from the truth.
Of course, he could always bend that truth just a little. "We all have our kinks, Lenny. I like being roughed up a little. It's not like I don't heal fast enough."
Len didn't so much as twitch. "Like the time I found you half dead at my back door?"
"That…" Of course Eddie would have told them that was Harrison. "That was different."
"How?"
"I knew better."
Len's expression did change then, becoming tighter, a small, subtle step closer to anger. He held up a hand, putting up one finger. "That's strike one."
"What?!" Now there was a strike system?
Oliver cleared his throat. "I think what Snart is trying to say is that we don't believe you enjoy having your spleen ruptured, Barry."
Oh, that was it! The only way they knew any details about anything Harrison had done was if Eddie had told them. He looked up, glaring at the silent detective. "Traitor."
"It wasn't…"
"No, I agreed to help you lock Harrison up. I never said anything about telling them the details of my relationship." Shawna's hand clenched on his shoulder in warning and he gave her an incredulous, sidelong stare. Just because Eddie was a traitorous little tattle tale, didn't mean Barry was going to hurt him. Run him three states over and leave him in the safe part of a small town, sure, but he wouldn't hurt him.
"Barry, it wasn't me." Wasn't Eddie? But then who else…? "It was Caitlin – the other Caitlin. She included copies of her medical reports and x-rays in case you tried to talk them out of it."
The worst part was she wasn't wrong. Thanks to the other him, he'd realized having Harrison locked up for a little while could work to his benefit, but only for a little while, only as long as it took to convince Harrison to give up on that other future. A few months at worst. After that, Barry had a series of arguments set up to convince Oliver and Felicity to let him go – Harrison had turned over a new leaf since the tidal wave, he'd seen the error of his ways and was trying to make it up to Barry, he'd even been working with the CCPD, and the Reverse-Flash hadn't been seen in over a year, so it's not like he was terrorizing the city.
Of course, all of those were useless now, because they were all looking at Barry like he was some kind of victim and all they'd see when they looked at Harrison was a monster. Not that they were entirely wrong, but it was going to make things a lot more difficult.
As if sensing the source of his annoyance, Oliver spoke up. "Would you have tried to talk us out of it?"
"No." He paused and glanced around the room at the array of disbelieving faces. "Not… right away."
"Why?"
"Because, it…" He was a twenty-seven year old man. Why was it so hard to convince people that he was capable of making his own decisions? He'd gotten himself into this and if he wanted out, he'd get out. "I can handle Harrison. I have it completely under control."
Len spoke again, with a terse, "Strike two."
"But…"
Lisa patted Barry's leg just above his knee. "Don't. You'll only make it worse."
He would have argued with her, but since he had no idea what Len was talking about, he decided to take her advice and shut up.
Oliver shook his head, clearly concerned, but he didn't push the issue and he didn't move to intervene or offer his own comfort. That was probably a good idea. Barry wasn't entirely sure he wanted Oliver's sympathy at the moment.
"All right, so, now that we've established… that, let's move on to the other reason we're here. Felicity and Hartley are going over the data Eddie brought back and Hartley thinks he can convert one of the pods if he has six hours alone at S.T.A.R. Labs. Our biggest problem are the cameras."
No, their biggest problem was there was already a cell designed for a speedster, but if Barry told them that, he'd have to tell them why. Instead, he rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Don't worry about the cameras."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oliver exchange a skeptical look with Len. "No offense, Barry, but I'll need more than that. How are you taking care of the cameras?"
"They're linked to an A.I. he brought with him from the future. Apparently, I created it. He doesn't know I know, but it does whatever I say and I've tested that theory. Trust me. If Gideon wasn't covering, there's an easily impressed volunteer with a kink for forensics that would have been way past dead by now." He chuckled to himself and chanced a looked up, but Oliver didn't seem all the impressed and Eddie just looked like he was about to be sick. "Whatever. The point is, the cameras aren't a problem. He'll be at Iron Heights working on the meta-human wing all day next Thursday. There are guards with him around the clock, so he can't speed through it. It should take him most of the day."
Oliver nodded his understanding. "Okay, Hartley and Felicity…"
Barry interjected quickly. "Just Hartley."
He knew for a fact Hartley could get the job done without Felicity's help. He was pretty sure Oliver only wanted her there to snoop around and Barry wasn't letting that happen. She was too good with computers. He'd never been able to bring himself to ask, but he was fairly certain Harrison kept archives and logs and if he did, she'd find them and… no, just no.
For what it was worth, Len seemed to agree, though Barry was sure he had his own reasons. When Oliver tried to argue, Len stepped over him with unwavering eye contact. "Barry's right. Hartley's good, but he's easily distracted. It's better if he goes in alone."
Oliver folded his arms over his chest, straightening defensively. "He should have backup."
Len dropped his hand to the hilt of his cold gun. "He doesn't need backup and, if he did, it would be one of us, not your computer analyst."
Barry watched the back and forth curiously. There was something going on between them. They were both leaders, so there was bound to be some friction, but Oliver wasn't exactly a stranger to working with criminals and Len was practically a vigilante himself, no matter how vehemently he refused to acknowledge it. This was something more than a simple power play. If that was all it was, Len would be undermining Oliver's authority with horrible puns and snide remarks, not outright refusals and vague threats with the Sub-Zero Gun.
He'd have to get to that later. Raising his hand, he waved it to get their attention. "Guys, not to rain on your whole alpha male stand off thing, but that wasn't a suggestion. Only Hartley or I'm not helping. If this goes south and Harrison finds out, he has no idea Hartley's connected to me and he almost, kind of likes him, so I could maybe, possibly work something out to keep him alive. Solid thirty percent chance Hartley walks away. If it's Felicity, though? There's nothing I can say or do to change Harrison's mind and he knows she works with you, so your entire plan goes," he held his hand up in a fist and popped it open with an under-exaggerated, "poof."
Oliver exchanged a look with Eddie and when Eddie nodded, his shoulders slumped. "Fine."
If Barry had been expecting Len to look happy that Oliver had caved, he would have been disappointed. Okay, maybe he was a little disappointed and maybe Barry could have been a little more cooperative from the onset. Maybe if he hadn't been so sarcastic and generally negative about the whole thing when Eddie got back from Star City a week ago, they wouldn't be treating him like a hostile prisoner, but it was frustrating. It was frustrating being treated like a child that didn't know what was best for itself. He knew exactly what he was doing, he just didn't care. No, that wasn't right. He cared, sometimes, just not the way Eddie wanted him to.
He sat back quietly while Oliver and Len started working through their plan, or, more accurately, posturing for leadership of their mish-mashed band of would-be do-gooders. When Barry had worked with Oliver, he'd mostly deferred to him. Oliver was older with more experience and Barry had relied on that. He still did. However, Len had just as much experience as Oliver, if not more, and he wasn't about to step in line behind anyone.
Watching someone question Oliver's every decision was more than a little amusing. Who was Firestorm? Why should they trust him? How was he going to help bring down a Speedster? The size of Ray Palmer's tech didn't change the fact he was an overgrown boyscout. They needed to keep the team small, lean, fewer targets, more spread out.
"You, me, Mick, and this Firestorm – happy birthday, Mick." Mick grunted his appreciation with momentarily raised eyebrows and that may have been the most pleased Barry had ever seen the pyromaniac. "But we don't need a tiny moving target no one can see, not unless that suit of his can withstand absolute zero and Mick's heat."
Oliver sighed, long and laborious and nodded. "Fine, we'll keep Ray on the sidelines, but I want him there in case we need him."
"Fine by me." As if Oliver had been asking Len's permission.
So far in the last five minutes, he'd counted six 'fines' between them, which meant nothing was actually fine. It also meant Barry was once again mournful of his inability to get drunk, because watching them plan something like this would make a really great drinking game.
Actually… he tapped Lisa and held up six fingers, grinning as he mouthed, 'Fine.'
She stifled a chuckle and smacked his leg playfully, shaking her head. Oliver cleared his throat and Barry dropped his hand to his lap. "Sorry."
Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. "Before we move on, is there anything you want to add, Barry?"
He considered his answer carefully, because really, there was a lot he could add. Most of it wasn't relevant. Not that it mattered. They weren't actually interested in getting his input. At best, Oliver was just trying to decide whether Barry was going to cooperate. After a heavy handed internal debate that lasted all of three seconds, he went with, "Do you think we could work in conjugal visits?"
The room went still.
"Just saying, you're locking my boyfriend up indefinitely. The least you could do is provide access."
Len's expression finally broke from neutral to a barely smothered anger, stiff and sneering. "That's strike three, Scarlet. Go take a time out."
"Good one, that's funny." Except Len looked extremely serious and when Barry didn't move, he aimed a pointed finger at the hallway that led into the bedrooms. "Wait, for real? What the hell, Len? You can't put me in time out!"
"The hell I can't." The cold gun lit up in Len's hand and Barry tried to stand only to find himself back on the couch, Shawna's hand gripping the back of his shirt like a vice. Barry turned to her sharply and she dropped her hand, backing up several inches. He looked around the rest of the room and was caught slightly off guard by the apparent call to arms. Mick's heat gun was out, a finger on the trigger; Oliver had a hand extended over his shoulder to grip his bow; and Eddie was standing, tense and ready to intervene if necessary.
What? Why would they…? He'd never hurt them. Not any of them. He wouldn't even betray their stupid plan and not just because it benefited him. He may be morally ambiguous at times, but not about them. Not even Mick, who, quite frankly, scared him a little. Or a lot.
Soft hands took his face and pulled him around to Lisa, smiling sweetly at him. "Barry, baby, why don't you just calm down, come with me to my room, and show me on the cupcake what you'd do to me if Lenny wouldn't kill you for it."
Why was she…? Wait a minute. "You have cupcakes?"
[]
"Oh, my god, these are so good."
Lisa leaned back against her desk, smiling. "I know. You have Shawna to thank for that. They opened a new bakery downtown and she brought back three dozen in case you showed up."
Barry looked at the half eaten cupcake with a frown. "She's scared of me."
"Hm?"
"Shawna, she's scared of me. I wouldn't hurt her, though. I tried…" He licked across the icing, sucking the flavor off his tongue while he tried to put it into words. "I know we screwed up with the pipeline. She didn't belong there. Not even Tony, really. He was a creep and a bully, but still. It's just Harrison said it was for the best. He said the police couldn't hold them and… we all just listened to him. You know?"
Lisa grabbed one of the eleven cupcakes still in the box and sat back on her bed. "Not really, but it's not about the pipeline."
"It's not?"
"No. She was mad about that at first, but like it or not, being there may actually have saved her life."
"But I wouldn't do it again. She knows that, right?" Because he'd never actually said that. He'd never sat down and told her he was sorry or that he regretted it or that he would never, ever do it again. If he had any other choice, he wouldn't be doing it to Harrison, either. It was just hard to find the words sometimes, or they came out wrong, so he hadn't tried. He should have.
"Yeah, she knows."
"Then what? Why is she afraid of me?"
Lisa took her time eating the cupcake and wiping her hands off before she answered. Barry would have pushed, but he was too busy doing the same thing and the next cupcake he grabbed was dark chocolate. When they'd made it half through the box – okay, when Barry had made it half through the box, Lisa leaned back on her hands.
"No one thinks you want to hurt anyone, Barry. We're just worried you'll get mad enough not to realize what you're doing until you've already done it."
"I would never…"
"Indigo."
Barry felt an immediate swell of annoyance. "Isn't purple. Hartley's deaf, not color blind. If Sesame Street can get it right, so can he."
Lisa raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows and Barry closed his eyes, biting his lip. Okay. Okay, maybe he got mad and did some really stupid things, but it wasn't… it didn't mean he'd hurt them.
He chanced a look at her. "Are you? Scared of me?"
"No, of course not and neither is Mick." Which wasn't much of a comfort – Barry wasn't sure there was anything that scared Mick.
"What about Len?" He almost didn't want to know, except he kind of needed to hear it, one way or the other.
Lisa reached over and put a hand on his leg, making sure she had his full, undivided attention. "You wish, cutie. He's cautious and protective, of you as much as any of his Rogues."
"Really?"
"Promise."
[]
They didn't sit in silence, because Lisa liked to fill space with words. She told him everything that had happened in Star City and with Oliver – at least, as far as she knew. She hadn't been there, but she'd pestered Len into telling her.
He listened intently, somewhere between impressed and horrified at the lengths Len had gone to. It wasn't like he didn't know Len was worried, but going all the way to Star City, facing down the Green Arrow, not to mention Felicity? That was… it was something. Barry just wasn't sure what. More than he expected, maybe, definitely more than he deserved.
By the time the door opened and Len stood in the entrance, glaring across the room at him, Barry's defiance was mostly quelled. With the influx of sugar, he was tired, slumped down in the chair with his legs splayed out across the floor. He needed to get home soon, put in a few hours of sleep before Harrison got back.
Lisa patted Len's arm as she slipped out to leave them alone, but she didn't say anything about taking it easy on Barry, so apparently, even Lisa wasn't on his side, cupcake bribery aside.
When Lisa was out of sight, Len crossed his arms over his chest. "Well?"
Barry rolled his eyes. "What? I'm not apologizing, if that's what you're…"
"I don't want an apology." Len stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I want an explanation."
"For what?" Why did everyone have to be so cryptic and confusing? What was there to explain? "Eddie told you everything. I didn't want this. I didn't want his help, I didn't want Oliver involved, and I don't want you…"
He stopped himself, choking it off before he could say what he was thinking out loud.
Len didn't back down at Barry's sharp tone, which at least meant Lisa had been telling the truth. He wasn't afraid of Barry. He was, however, still angry. "For why you didn't think you could trust me."
"I do."
Barry sat up, giving Len eye contact, which Barry generally tried to avoid. He didn't like what he saw most of the time, but with Len it was easier. Len didn't flinch away, he didn't do pity, and for all that he might be confused by how Barry acted, he was never put off by it. Even when Barry had admitted to sleeping with his mother's killer earlier, there hadn't been any disgust there, not like with Eddie or Oliver. Not that he blamed them. Disgust was a perfectly normal response, but it was nice not to feel judged.
"I trust you, Len, that's why I never told you." Barry stood, moving forward in a blink to stand in front of Len, who blinked in surprise, but didn't move back. "Why did you go to Star City?"
"Felicity Smoak."
"Don't pretend to be stupid, Lenny, it doesn't suit you." Barry froze, the feeling of Harrison's words in his mouth like ash. "I'm sorry, that wasn't… I didn't mean that."
At least Len didn't look offended or any angrier. "I wanted answers and you weren't giving them. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you couldn't have done anything about it and I didn't want you to."
He started to move past Len, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm. "Are you with us?"
Barry leaned in, grinning. "I'm with you."
He poked Len's nose and took just a moment to enjoy the incredulous expression that twisted over the older man's expression before running.
[]
When Eobard came home in the early hours before dawn, he found Barry more or less where he'd left him – sprawled over their bed, taking up more than his share of space as well as Eobard's pillow. Despite appearances, however, traces of the speedforce clung to him, a feeling of static power that said he'd been out recently.
Eobard took the time to strip out of his own clothes and have a shower before sliding into the bed. Barry made no pretense of sleep, immediately moving to rest his head on Eobard's chest with a slurred. "Morning."
"You were out."
Barry nodded. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I might as well go for a run. 'M getting faster."
"You are." Eobard allowed himself to slip his hand under Barry, pulling him closer and received a happy sigh for his efforts.
There was a moment silence between them, punctuated with Barry shifting against him until he'd slotted that familiar place. His place. Eobard will never be sure how he allowed Barry Allen, of all people, to find a place with him.
"Harrison?"
"Hm."
"Tell me about the future. Mine. When we finish this."
It was the first time Barry had asked that. Traditionally, talk of the future Eobard wanted to get back to was paramount to asking for a fight. Not that Eobard never brought it up. An angry Barry could be quite enticing, but Barry had never asked him to and the boy didn't feel tense at the moment. He wasn't strung tight and ready to spring, he was relaxed and at ease.
Eobard dropped his head, breathing in Barry's smell, taking in the soft scent of coconut shampoo and the faded smell of sweat from the evening's run. "You're part of something called the Justice League. You're friends include The Green Arrow, Superman, Wonder Woman, and an obnoxious fighter pilot that goes by the title of the Green Lantern."
"What about Iris? I marry her, right?"
"You do. The two of you have twins." He left out the darker part that he'd played in their lives, it wasn't necessary and it wasn't what Barry was asking for.
"And Cisco?"
"He's in the Justice League as well. His abilities as the Vibe are… extraordinary."
"Caitlin?"
"She has powers of her own, formidable ones."
"Is she part of the Justice League, too?"
Eobard had promised Barry the truth, but where Caitlin was concerned, that truth was unkind. After a short pause, he lied. "Yes."
Barry tensed against him and he was almost afraid Barry had somehow sensed it, but the boy simply dissolved into a yawn, relaxing again immediately after. "I'm tired. Can't sleep when you leave."
Eobard kissed the top of Barry's head. "Get some rest. You still have a few hours before work."
"Love you."
Soon. In six weeks, he'd be going home.
