Slut

Joe's steps faltered as he neared the CSI lab and heard the raised voices. Really, he couldn't believe he hadn't heard them sooner. Barry and the other man were arguing loud enough for the entire precinct to hear.

"I don't know who you think you are, Allen, ordering me around," Detective Dilloshaw was saying angrily, "Why don't you get the damn shoes yourself?! Collecting evidence is your job."

"From crime scenes, maybe," Barry replied calmly, "Not from suspects' homes. Obtaining warrants is your job, Dilloshaw, so I suggest you do it."

"I obtain warrants when it's warranted," the detective spat, "What makes you think you're so right about this guy, Allen? I already stated in my report that he isn't a suspect."

"I'm a trained observer," Barry said simply, "I know a guilty man when I see one. And frankly, Jeff, you're always too quick when it comes to naming your suspects. You take short cuts and go with the easiest scenario to explain the case, and because of it, that poor kid is going to end up in jail for six months for a robbery he didn't commit."

"Poor kid," Dilloshaw scoffed, "There were two guys at the scene: a twenty-three-year-old with a criminal history that includes robbery and a forty-eight-year-old with a full-time job and a spotless record. It's obvious who did it."

"And said twenty-three-year doesn't have a history of being the brightest crayon in the box," Barry said arrogantly, "I find it hard to believe the kid was smart enough to take out the surveillance cameras before robbing the place. The older man, however…"

"So, you're basing your investigation on intelligence?" the older detective asked impatiently.

"No, I'm basing this on evidence," Barry snapped, "The shoe prints at the scene match a pair of men's Florsheim Castellano wing tip dress shoes. I highly doubt a low-income twenty-three-year-old kid was wearing shoes like that."

"This isn't Scooby-fucking-Doo," the detective said angrily, "Shoe prints? Really, Allen? You're going off of shoe prints?"

"Are you a forensics expert, Dilloshaw?" Barry asked condescendingly, "Why don't you leave the evidence analysis to the expert then? You go to Horace Brigham's house, and I guarantee you'll find a pair of these shoes in his closet. So why don't you stop arguing and just go collect the damn evidence I tell you to?"

"Because I don't take orders from a twenty-six-year-old lab rat," the detective snapped, "You're not always right about everything, Allen."

"Name one time I was wrong," Barry challenged, "One time. Just one."

A long pause stretched out between the CSI and the detective. When there was no reply, Barry's voice grew smug as he continued.

"You might think of me as some young lab rat," he said, "But I solve every case I'm given, and I solve them right. I don't take short cuts and send the wrong people to that courtroom. I take laziness in policework very seriously, Dilloshaw, and the only thing worse than letting the bad guy get away is sending an innocent man to prison for something he didn't do. I'm sure I don't need to explain to you why I take that personally.

"So, stop trying to wrap up the case without fully investigating it. I'm not putting up with self-important pricks like you anymore. I don't work for you. I work for the department, and as much as we both dislike it, we're stuck working with each other. Don't think because I'm young and I'm nice that you can just push me around. I will go to the captain if I see someone cutting corners just to close a case. Get a damn warrant, get me that guy's shoes, and then stay the hell out of my lab. I'm trying to actually work here."

There was a long, shocked pause before the detective finally spoke.

"I'll be telling the rest of the force about this, Allen," he said coldly.

"Please do," Barry replied calmly, "Tell them I'm done cleaning up their messes. They can call me an asshole or a lab rat all they want, so long as the cases get done right."

Detective Dilloshaw didn't have anything to say to that. A long, silent pause stretched out between them before the door of the lab suddenly opened. Joe stared in shock as the angry detective brushed past him, hardly even paying him a moment's glance.

Joe gave himself a small shake before tentatively poking his head into the lab. He had never really seen Barry get into an argument with one of their coworkers before. He had seen him get chewed out by Singh and teased by quite a few of them, but he had never seen this kind of conflict from Barry. Joe expected Barry to be shaken or at least somewhat frazzled by the confrontation, but he wasn't.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

When Joe tentatively entered the lab, it was to find that Barry had calmly sat back down at his desk, working on his reports like always, as if nothing had happened.

"Do I even want to know what that was all about?" Joe asked seriously as he approached Barry's desk.

Barry shrugged.

"Just workplace drama," he said simply, "Nothing to worry about."

Joe frowned at him.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked in confusion.

Barry just shook his head.

"Nothing," he replied, "Just sick of letting people walk all over me. I'm done being used over and over again by people who don't appreciate me. Besides, aren't you the one always telling me to stand up for myself?"

"I guess," Joe muttered, still taken aback by Barry's aloof attitude.

Before Joe could say anything else, they were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Officer Liddell.

"Hey, Allen?" Liddell said in a strange voice, a confused look on his face, "There's someone down in the lobby…demanding to see you."

Joe and Barry both exchanged confused looks before moving towards the door to the lab. They followed the other officer down the stairs to the main lobby area of the CCPD. As they were descending the stairs, they instantly heard the commotion that was going on below.

"Miss, if you don't calm down, I'm going to have to have officers escort you off the premises," Singh was saying seriously to a young woman.

She wasn't paying attention to him, though. As soon as her eyes zoned in on Barry at the foot of the stairs, she brushed past the captain like he wasn't even there.

"Barry Allen," she gritted angrily as she stormed up to him.

"Hey," Barry grinned, leaning up against the railing next to the stairs.

SMACK

The young woman slapped Barry so hard, it could be heard around the entire lobby, which had now gone silent as all their coworkers turned to look at them, watching the scene unravel.

"Jesus!" Barry gasped, rubbing the side of his face, "The hell was that for?!"

"Why didn't you call me?!" the blonde demanded.

Barry raised his eyebrows at her. Before he could say anything, she continued.

"What do you take me for? Some kind of floozy?!" she shouted, "Like you just get to sleep with me and then never call me back?!"

"Miss," Singh said calmly, stepping behind her to put a hand on her shoulder, "I don't think you realize you're in a police station right now. I can't have you coming in here, making a scene and assaulting one of my CSI's."

She didn't back down, though. She just impatiently swatted the captain's hand away from her shoulder.

"How'd you even know where I work?" Barry asked her, raising his eyebrows.

He didn't even seem the slightest bit embarrassed at being called out like this in front of his coworkers. If anything, Barry seemed…amused.

"It wasn't exactly difficult," the blonde snorted, rolling her eyes, "How many Bartholomew Allens are there in Central City—or the world for that matter?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Barry laughed, "I'm one of a kind."

The young woman didn't laugh, though. She glared venomously at Barry.

"Yes, you most certainly are," she gritted.

"Oh, come on," Barry rolled his eyes, "Will you just calm down? I lost your number, okay? I was going to call you back, but I lost it. My bad."

She didn't lighten up at these words, though. She just glared at Barry, shaking her head slowly.

"Miss," Singh said, stepping forward again with a confused side glance at Barry, "You really need to leave now."

"Don't worry, I'm leaving," she snapped at Singh, "I won't waste any more of my time on a player like him."

She turned to Barry then, giving him a look that would make most men crumble. Barry, however, didn't bat an eyelash.

"You, Barry Allen," she gritted, "are a slut."

With that, she turned on her heal and stormed out of the precinct. After she disappeared through the main entrance, all eyes turned to Barry.

You could've heard a pin drop in the CCPD.