#one time he was ten just so he could creep on Barry without Barry realizing it.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Uh-huh. No, yeah. That's... that's canon. That would be an accurate statement to make. There are no lies here. This literally is 100% what happens.

figured i'd ask you since you're like, The Flash Fam Expert, but do you happen to know the rough ages of the flashfam? like i know irey and jai are nine, ace is somewhere in his late teens, and wally has to be late twenties at the youngest but i can't find many specifics on other characters and wasn't sure if you might be able to help!

OOF. That's a rough one buddy. You don't understand what you have just unleashed upon the world.

God. Alright.

Irey and Jai are nine physically and mentally. Chronologically speaking, they're still toddlers but don't worry about it.

Ace is around 17? Not yet 18 but older than 15. I would bet on 17 but 16 wouldn't be crazy either. Avery is the same age.

Jay and Max are over 100 but by how much, I couldn't tell you. They play their age close to the chest. Physically they look 50-60 though.

Here's where it gets tricky.

Barry, Wally, Jesse and Bart.

So, Wally would've been in his early 30's when his children were born. Definitely by the time Barry came back Wally would've been at least 30.

However, during the N52 reboot everyone got deaged around a decade younger, Wally included. Wally came out of the Speedforce wearing his Kid Flash costume, indicating that he was physically 19 at the oldest. It's been a few years since Wally emerged, so physically he would have to be around 21 at this point.

Wild! I know!

So yeah, Barry would've been... late 30's? Ish? When he died. He came back at roughly the same age and chilled for a bit. He would've had to have hit 40 at least by that point. But speedsters also don't really physically age? So he looked like he was in his early 30's.

The N52 reboot hit, putting Barry at... late 20's- early 30's. I would say, by now, that the man is at least 30. Potentially even 35. But he looks 25 because speedsters don't age. (Iris would be around 30)

Bart is going to be the most wild one here. Alright. I'm speedrunning this one, so if you don't understand what is happening, I'm sorry but it is too late for you.

He exits the time portal at physically 12, ages to 14 before stabilized. He ages to 16 at which point he disappears. He comes back as an adult for a year but is killed. He comes back, again, back at 16 and is allowed to chill for a bit (potentially a year), bringing Bart to 17 years old (physically) when Flashpoint and the N52 reboot hit.

Bart was somehow spared the ~10 year deaging but he wasn't spared the deaging entirely. Bart pops out looking around 12-14 years old again. He runs around for about a year ish, which brings Bart to physically 13-15 years old currently in comics.

HOWEVER, it must be stated that, like Wally and Barry, Bart's mental age has never been reset. His mental age did not reboot with his body, so mentally Bart is around 19-20 years old.

Jesse... Jesse is weird. DC likes to keep Jesse ambiguously young. When in doubt, Jesse is around the same age as Wally. So, currently she would be around 21. The same applies to Linda.

So yeah. It's weird because Barry was a guy in his 30's with a little baby ten year old Wally and there was at least a 20 year age difference there. And now it's maybe 9 years? But also Barry looks 25 because he's a speedster, so it looks like Barry is only 4-5 years older than Wally.

Honestly if you went off looks alone, it'd be Jay (50), Max (50), Barry (25), Wally (21), Jesse (21), Avery (16), Ace (16), Bart (14), Irey (9) and Jai (9). Which is WILD?! Their family looks like two gay dads adopted 8 kids. Other than Max and Jay, they all look within five years of each other. It's wild.

Speedster aging man... They just... don't. They don't age. They live on Neverland time 24/7.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Girl’s Night Out

Final Lisa Snart Appreciation Week fic, back when I was on the captaincanary train and thought the show could use some female friendships.

"We are going to rule this place!" Lisa whooped enthusiastically, running to the street and urging the blonde behind her to hurry up. 

"Calm down, Party Princess. Don't want people to think you're already drunk and cut you off." Sara retorted at the woman's giddiness. 

"Cut me off? Never. Who wouldn't give little ol me a drink" Lisa drawled, putting on the most angelic face she could muster, and twirled a strand around her pinkie. That got the men every time. The sweet, nice farm girl role was easy to play and so much fun to watch how they fall over themselves to carry her bags, and shoes, and comfort her when she threw up in the toilet, warning her not to go too fast yet always offering her a round of mimosas the second she perked up. It was Thursday night. Girl's night for Sara and Lisa. 

It had started a couple of months ago when Leonard miraculously returned from the dead. Lisa had almost refused to believe it. After months of mourning she didn't want to be reminded of him or worse, see it was just some imposter. It would hurt too much. But Mick basically dragged her along to the mission and she had been thrilled to see it was the real Leonard. Leonard had been beaten, traumatized and depressed but slowly he got better with the help of the Legends and especially with the care of herself, Sara and Mick. 

When Lisa had found out about Sara and Leonard's relationship, well to say that the Snart protective streak was all on Leonard's side, please. She stalked the Lance home and once Sara entered her room, Lisa asked her point blank what her intentions were with her brother and that if she ever broke his heart due to some stupid-You're evil, I can't be with you excuse, she was personally going to cut some body parts and feed it to her. 

After Sara had calmed her down (i.e. kicked her ass), she assured her that she would in no one intentionally hurt her brother.

Lisa grudgingly had to apologize for shoving the knife to her throat. The next day, Sara decided to make up for the whole confrontation by hanging out together. 

It had been a blast. Lisa didn't have many girl friends, even Shawna the only Rogue she hated out with voluntarily, hardly counted since she was gone as soon as the heist was over. Plus Sara was pretty cool, she didn't take crap from any man or woman, always was ready and willing to do some motorcycle races, drinking contests and even started teaching her how to knock a guy out with a boa stick. Nor did she sigh about how handsome Leonard was. 

When Lisa had asked about their relationship, without weapons, Sara just explained how Leonard had helped her through a tough time and that he was very "cool" to say the least. 

Bad puns aside, Thursday nights when Sara was home from traipsing around in the past the two would hit Central and sometimes Starling City and go clubbing. 

Their first stop was Saints & Sinners. Lisa ran to the dance floor, grinding and shoving herself to the middle of the ground. Enjoying the heat and action and the strobe lights hitting her silver sequined mini dress, sending sparkles around.  

She looked around for Sara and saw she was by the bar, glaring moodily out the window. Lisa shimmed to her side, "What'sup are you gonna go bust out the moves again?" "I'm okay. I'll just be here with the drinks" Sara answered, stirring the rim of her gin glass.  "Are you sure? I mean the guys loved you last time. Remember the eunuch test?" Lisa tried to copy the move that Sara had done which involved some odd gymnastic bend with a machete. 

"Yeah, I would like to see your moves" A guy with way too much cologne approached them, sleazy sliding his hand up and down Sara's arm. 'Whatever" Sara shoved him off, making him crash to the nearest table and walked out the doors, "Lisa let's go to Jitters I'm tired of this place." Lisa raced behind Sara, "Are you okay? You didn't give that creep the throw down you usually do." "Lisa, I'm not going to start a bar brawl every time someone hits on me." Sara muttered irritably. 

When they reached Jitters, Lisa was pleased to see it was karaoke night. She cheerfully mocked and snarked about all the unfortunate singers who went up to sing and was thrilled when even Cisco Ramon and his friend, Barry something came on stage too to do a "The Ten Duel Commandments.” 

She waved to Cisco but stood by Sara because it was Girl's Night and she could flirt all she wanted tomorrow. Plus she was a little concerned, Sara hardly cracked a smile or even replied to her sarcastic compliments. Something was bugging that girl, and Lisa wanted to know what.

"What's with you" Lisa hissed, pulling Sara to the nearest bathroom stall.

“Nothing, Lisa. I'm not in the mood okay. No what I'm sorry if I'm bringing down your night. I can go home, we can do this another time." Sara grumbled, starting to put on her coat.

"No way, you're getting off that easy. Talk to me" Lisa gripped her arm tightly. "Let me go" Sara snapped, kicking Lisa to the sinkLisa grabbed Sara hair in an effort to keep steady, and swiftly put her in a headlock. 

Sara elbowed her in the chest, flipped her over and pinned her. Her knee eating on Lisa's chest with excrutiating pain. Damn assassin training! 

Lisa felt a rising panic, why did she push the buttons of a bloodlust assassin? She had to snap her out of it. "Sara! Stop being a neandrathalic dumbass and talk to me!" Lisa cried, using one of Len's favorite insults.

Sara blinked slowly, realizing what she was doing and hastily got up, “I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me, I thought I had learned to get over it." 

"Whatever, you can have a nice long soul searching talk with Lenny about that. Just tell me what's got you so shitty" Lisa  said, dusting on off her dress.

Sara sighed and leaned against the wall, looking downcast. "Laurel." 

Lisa suddenly understood Sara's whole attitude during this night. She moved beside her, and knocked her shoulder against hers in a silent solidarity. 

“I’m sorry," Lisa whispered.

"I know this sounds selfish, but Mick got to say goodbye to Leonard when we thought he died, then it turned out he didn't. I'm thrilled, those few months without your brother hurt me too. But at least there was some closure there and we had a chance to go back in time and fix things. But I can never do that for Laurel. It was Darhk's doing not the Oculus or the Time Masters. There was so much I needed to apologize to her for." Sara hid her face with her hands and slid to the ground. Lisa made sure to lock the bathroom doors and slid down next to her. "I know how you feel.” Sara looked at her questioningly, "And it's not about Lenny's death. It's my mom's. I learned that for those who are dead and for sure are not returning, you've got to hope. Hope and think about them. It's incredible stupid but it works. Laurel loved you, I'm sure. Would she have really want to end things with grudges and stuff? No good sibling would. I bet she understands all the things you want to tell her." 

Sara nodded solemnly and got up. “We can do this another time, I just need to be alone for a little bit" Sara said, managing to keep a steady voice despite her wet cheeks. "But thanks." 

"It's what sisters do" Lisa shrugged, and Sara stared at her questioningly "You're going to be around Len for awhile so I just accepted the fact that we're sisters now. You should probably start too." Lisa said a matter of factly.

Sara nodded slowly, "I think I could get used to the idea." Lisa shrugged, "You better. I already started.. uh stealing some of your boots that you left at Lenny's but since we're sisters now, we can just call that borrowing."

Sara heaved a big sigh, and Lisa smiled to herself. It was going to be a pretty weird family relation but it was gonna be a hell of a fun one. 

[redrobin-detective]

Exerpt from a story I won’t actually write where it’s post Billy reveal and Clark has his annual ‘JLA party without secret identities’ at his house and Bill is invited and its the League getting to know Billy properly and a bunch of shenanigans happen from too many superpowered (slightly drunk) adults sharing one braincell trying to help Billy be a kid (ride a bike, play a team sport, dance party) only to realize in the end a good childhood is just being around the dumb people who love you. Anyway, here’s wonderwall.

_________

“Remind me again, how did you end up with these powers,” J’onn asked, taking more oreos from the communal box. He’d had most of them already and pretty soon it would be emptied out entirely.

“Ah it’s kind of a weird story,” Billy shrugged, “I’m not sure you’d believe me.”

“Can’t be any weirder than an alien crash landing near my own crash site and making you a space cop,” Hal said, taking a sip from his beer. “Let’s hear it, champ.”

“Okay so it two years ago, in April. I remembered I had just turned ten and was feeling a little bit low.” Billy said, the smile gently falling off his face. “It was late at night, pouring rain and I was trying to sell newspapers to make some change. Of course no one was buying so I was just heading back to my place when,” he paused.

“When?” Diana asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Ok,” the boy said holding out his hands, “before I continue and you freak out I want you to know I know all about stranger danger, not going into vans with anyone I don’t know and such.”

“I’m not sure I like this story,” Clark said darkly, leaning forward and listening very intently.

“No, seriously,” Bill added with emphasis. “I keep away from the areas the creeps hang out, I keep my head on when I’m talking to people and I have good people watching out for me.” He smirked, “Besides, I’m not cute enough for the pedos to be interested in.”

“Not... cute enough?” Barry asked slowly, looking at the adorable boy with the fluffy black hair and sky blues eyes and dimples that would enchant anyone.

“Yeah I’m like all elbows,” Billy dismissed before continuing. “Anyway this guy in a trench coat comes up to me and asks what I was doing in the rain. I told him I was selling papers but I remember being concerned that he was getting all wet so I offered him one to use as a cover. Instead, he told me he’d take us down into the old abandoned subway and get us out of the rain.”

“And you did?” Barry asked with some concern.

“Like I said,” Billy explained, “it’s not something I ever do but he felt okay, he felt like,” Bill scrunched up his nose in thought, “he felt like Superman.” 

“What?” Clark asked.

“I mean, he felt the way people feel around you. Even people who don’t know you trust you, you make everyone feel safe. If you’d have come to me that night, I’d have followed you anywhere,” Billy said, staring down into the fire with a thoughtful smile.

“Oh okay,” was all Clark could say but what do you say in the face of such open honesty and trust from someone who’d previously admitted to not being able to trust anyone. Faith was such a heavy burden to bare sometimes but if it took some load off of Billy’s back he’d carry it ten times over. “So you followed him.”

“Yeah but the subway didn’t look right,” Bill nodded. “I’d slept in there before and suddenly it had working lights, the stairs were all fixed up and made of marble or something fancy. A subway rolled up on brand new tracks and the man told me that “the Wizard was waiting” so I got on and ended up at the Rock of Eternity.”

“The center of the universe,” Diana said with awe. “What an honor.”

“Sure, and it was there I met the wizard, Sha- uh well you know the word. He talked for a while about past Champions, about the one who betrayed. Said he’d been searching for someone to take up the mantle and he’d picked me for uh,” Bill ducked his head in embarrassment, “stuff about a Perfect Heart and Kindness in the Midst of Great Sorrow. There was some lightning, the whole place started to come down and the next thing I know, I’m back on the streets of Fawcett and I’m Captain Marvel.”

“So you followed a weirdo into a magical subway and some old dude gave you the power to turn into a grown-up AND Superman?” Hal asked, before raising his beer, “I’ll drink to that.”

“I think what Hal is trying to say,” Clark chastised, “is that no matter your circumstances, you have the heart of a hero. Many of us had no choice in our abilities but you earned them by being a good person even when it was hard.” He reached out and gently touched Bill’s shoulder. “I know it’s been an adjustment for all of us but I’m glad to get to know the real you and I’m glad to call you a friend and a teammate.” 

“Here, here,” J’onn added, toasting with his Oreo. The whole group repeated the sentiment before falling into a warm, companionable silence surrounded by friends and loved ones beneath the twinkling Kansas sky. 

“We should do this again soon,” Bruce spoke, “I’ll bring Jason next time.”

“Yeah and next time, we’ll teach Bill to drive!” Hal said enthusiastically.

“No!” The rest of the adults shouted but it was hard to hear through all the laughter. 

[killervibe]

Killervibe fic - Favourite Season (Day 3 of the 30 days of Killervibe)

~ I am posting these way out of order I know and I’m sorry. 

~.~

Caitlin holds her breath in his cluttered workshop. Her pristine white lab coat covering over the stolen cuffs tight around her wrists. She knows she lied and has disappointed him when she places them with a thud on his desk. The glass she overturns expands into solid water and she sees the fear he feebly masks behind his eyes. Senses his trepidation. She begs with a crack in her voice for him to tell her the truth. Yes, she told him she never thought gaining powers would make them evil, but that was last year. Last timeline, a different reality, for all she knows the versions of themselves they once were are now strangers. She's scared. She clings to him and she feels him shake, she just wants to hold him and bring this moment to a standstill. Nobody needs to know. Just Cisco. Only Cisco. Somehow she knows he's the only one who would never leave her. She can't lose that now.

Maybe she's indulging herself by jutting out her lip and fluttering her eyelashes at him when his invention blinks incessantly in the space between them. She feels powerful when he caves. It feels good to know she can do that, she only discovered it a while ago. She could pout or hold his hand and he'd stutter, red in his cheeks, eyes wide and soft and yearning. Maybe it's cruel to use him like that, but it lights a spark in her chest, to know she can sway Cisco's mind with a single pleading.

HR's relentless all morning about the opening of the Star Labs museum. Cisco texted her a few hours back that it was best they go along with it. Maybe things are tense between Wally and Barry, but Cisco is dressed up beside her and HR is right, he suits up nicely. She bites her lip when he offers her his arm like a gentleman, and the butterflies flutter in her stomach again. The walk from the cortex to the Star Labs museum isn't very long. Caitlin treasures all of ten minutes of it, the experience of arriving at events together. Together, she thinks and hides her blush behind the coffee cart HR is implying she should be working. Cisco dismisses it, now his hand on her back. She could get used to this.

It's true that Cisco deserves happiness. That he should want someone. Caitlin smiles tightly, watching Cisco prepare for the battle with this inter-dimensional bounty huntress. Ten minutes into his spectacular blow-up of a practise session, she grits her teeth, clenches her palms and stalks away. She's outside, alone in the deserted parking lot in her heels. It's not that she doesn't believe in Cisco, that he could defeat this woman, unlike Barry's belief. She knows he can. But what happens then? Will he flirt her into staying on this earth? Is he looking for her replacement? A woman who can do what he can, but better? See what he can see, but clearer? It's a tempting pairing, dying to be matched, that's for sure. Caitlin 's pendant feels heavy over her chest. She picks it up, studying it as her bottom lip trembles. Savitar has spoken. One will betray. She thinks about the piece of the philosopher's stone locked away in its hidden compartment.  The necklace glows in her hand as if absorbing energy. Would her eyes have gone blue and hair gone white right now without it? Maybe her jealousy is all it takes.

It's not that Cisco wants to die. Certainly not to prevent the threat of demise by the hands of gorillas. But every hero makes his eventual sacrifice, right? That's a universal explored in every comic arc he's ever read. If Cisco's blessing is his ability to connect a dimension to a dimension, or past to a future, now earth to another earth,  then he refuses to be the bridge that brings upon curses. One will fall. If Cisco dies now, maybe Iris will live. If Cisco dies now, maybe Caitlin 's fate will be redeemed. Whatever it is the British fool mutters under his breath in this cage beside him, tracing random symbols into the sand with his finger, Cisco is thankful for his sudden second nomination. They may not see eye to eye or have remotely similar motives, but at least Julian gets it. Maybe Cisco's too powerful to live. And Cisco doesn't have to think about his request too hard, his red beanie wringing in his hands as he pleads with her through the cell bars. It wouldn't be too bad, to be killed with a kiss. Not if it were hers.

"Just so you know, Julian and I are just friends." Maybe it's selfish that she's so relieved the woman Cisco had his eyes on is out of the picture. It's not selfish to keep a distance from Julian. Maybe he's a self-centred ass with an arrogance that may rub Caitlin the wrong way, but at this point, she's just as bad, no, she's worse. But Julian is away, and there are hearts littered all around the speed lab, and Cisco's lamenting about his lack of love in his life and maybe, just maybe, Caitlin can take this chance.

Caitlin asked him if he could put on the scrubs and help Julian with the emergency surgery. His heart hammered and hands shook, unable to even knot the blue smock around his neck. Caitlin's gasping and the flowing crimson burns tears in his eyes. Iris takes one look at him and pulls the scrubs off his back, already tying the string around her waist. They don't speak anything between the three minutes it takes, there's no time, but she knows. She knows the impossible task Caitlin asked of him. He can only stand frozen to the ground two feet away, arm still stained from the time pressing on the wound, as he watches them operate. His other fist is in his mouth, his jaw tense, and he recoils every time she lets out a guttural scream. The monitor beeps faster and faster, he forces himself to breathe, reciting the stats. One will fall. It was supposed to be Iris. He never realized the terrible comfort that false pretense had brought him until now, bile creeping up his throat.

Caitlin is dead. Something cracks in his soul.

Julian is unable to shut his mouth with his little "comments" about his inability to keep his head straight. No, he hasn't slept in days and hasn't touched his hair in longer. Everything she's ever touched Cisco's got his hands all over, desperation turning him into a mad man. He has to find her and he has to bring her home and he doesn't know how to do either. If she'd even want the option.  The woman who let her mascara smear into his skin as she fisted his jean jacket after that first disaster would have never wanted this. That woman, his Caitlin, had begged him to never leave her. And how could he? Julian and his little "comments", he's still going on with them now. Cisco slams his hands against the white keyboard in the cortex, startling the room into silence. He's going to lose it.

She says to herself she's only here because she needs to get Savitar's memories back. She doesn't care about Cisco's sob stories from their past and she doesn't care that Barry is staring at her with a blank face and she doesn't care that HR looks at her like he's pissing his pants and she doesn't care that Julian even thinks he has a right to try and tell her what's right. She doesn't care and she certainly doesn't love. She tells them this in the hallway but when the elevator doors shut in their face, she sees the glint of Cisco's crushed tears. Caitlin remembers herself for the briefest moment.

She likes fighting him, she thinks. She doesn't know why.

He hates fighting her. Even Julian could see why.

They're in the forest just like his vibe that felt so long ago. Cornered against the roots of a tree in a leather skirt and boots, she tries not to cower. He looks at her like she's the scum on his shoes. She bites out for him to end her if he hates her so bad. For a second, it's almost like he wants to. They know he doesn't want to, dropping the serum at her feet. He won't force her to take it. Won't even give her one of his speeches. Just looks at her void, exhausted. Finished. The other breacher is back, watching their interaction warily. Of course, she thinks, delusional to believe for a moment to be granted a second chance. She deserved this.

Hidden in Savitar's empty, leaking lair. She stares at the antidote vial. She drinks it.

Clarity comes a few days later. Her thoughts are her own, not overlapped with a stranger's, and the calm saves her from the brink. In sunglasses, hair stark white and ugly, she had no intention to catch their attention. Cisco puts his hand on her arm, just like he did ages ago, ushering her into the Star Labs museum.

Somehow, she's still affected.

[suddenrundown]

                          All the Time in the World: Chapter 12

Read previous chapter

There was something…unfriendly in the looks from random passersby.

Unfriendly was probably too mild; Barry could deal with unfriendly. These looks carried something else, something that triggered danger signals, but they never lingered too long before flitting away as the owner scurried off without a glance back. It was unnerving, and he tried not to make too much eye contact with anyone in particular as he perused the aisles of the small apothecary shop. Instead, he focused on the paper that Merle had handed him before he left the ship and headed into town, a list of medicines that the crew needed to restock on complete with brief descriptions of each one hastily scribbled down as an afterthought, because what if they have different names for their medicines, Merle?

“Good point,” the dwarf had replied as if that thought had never once occurred to him, taking the paper back.

The task proved to be difficult anyway as Barry squinted at Merle’s chicken scratch handwriting in an attempt to decipher it and scanned the shelf in front of him. He sighed heavily and stood from his squatting position, stretching his back a little.

“Merle, for the love of…” he muttered to himself. This would have been much easier if the guy had come along. Barry stood on his toes to see over the shelf. “Any luck, Lup?”

Continued under the cut, or you can read it on ao3

“Uh…no?” came the response from down below on the other side of the aisle. Lup popped up then, slightly to the left on her side of the aisle. “At least, not with the amoxi- what’cha call it.”

“Amoxilitinia,” Barry supplied, peering back down at the list. “It’s the last thing on the list, so what did you find?”

“Hand lotion,” Lup answered as she showed him the bottle she was holding, which claimed to smell of some type of berry he hadn’t heard of before. “And if Merle knew how good it smelled, he would have put it on the list.”

He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Oh, for sure,” she told him, disappearing from view and then reappearing as she rounded the corner to his side of the aisle. “Here,” she continued, holding the bottle out to him, “smell.”

Barry did as she said. He definitely couldn’t identify the scent, but clearly he needed to find whatever berry the stuff was meant to imitate. “It smells amazing,” he told her, because it really did.

“Right?” She took another whiff herself and then capped the bottle. “Obviously I’m getting it.”

“Obviously.”

“Alright, so let’s find this Amoxi-shit and head back. What’s it for?” she asked as grabbed for the paper in his hand.

“Rashes,” he replied as he scanned the shelf again.

Lup chuckled. “He knows there’s different kinds, right?”

“One would hope.”

After a few more minutes of searching, Lup found some not-Amoxilitinia that seemed to be for some sort of rash-curing purpose and decided that it was good enough.

“If he wants something else, he can come back and do it himself,” she said. Then she looked at him, concern lining her features. “You ok?”

He stopped rubbing the back of his neck, but couldn’t stop the nervous pounding of his heart. “I just want to be back. Feel like I’m being watched.” He peaked over her shoulder and saw the worker at the counter glance quickly away as soon as he looked over. “The guy up front has done nothing but give us dirty looks ever since we walked in,” he added, quieter.

Lup glanced behind her as well, and then turned to give him a reassuring smile. “They’re just stuffy dickheads. But don’t worry, I got this.”

Barry hung back while she went to pay. The man at the counter did not show her any sort of friendliness as he rang her up, but that was fine as long as he didn’t…do something else. Barry wasn’t actually sure what he was prepared for, but he felt on edge enough that he should be.

Lup picked up her purchases off the counter and stowed them in her backpack. “Thank you so much,” she said politely and with incredible enthusiasm. The man did not reply and barely spared her a glance.

She stepped out of the door that Barry held open for her. “See? Nothing to worry about,” she told him.

                                                        ~

There wasn’t exactly nothing to worry about, and Lup knew that. She also knew that the super welcoming people of the town of Dalry weren’t just “stuffy dickheads”, either. She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t noticed the angry stares or that they didn’t give her the creeps, too. Good thing Barry hadn’t asked. A woman stopped to glare at them as they passed, and Lup glared right back before realizing that that could only escalate the situation.

The situation, as it stood, was that they were in trouble for having magic. When they’d landed the Starblaster outside of town three days ago, they’d been met by two very official and very distrustful looking men who had not bothered introducing themselves. Instead, they’d immediately started grilling Davenport about the “highly suspicious aircraft” he’d walked out of in the most aggressive way possible.

The captain had attempted to give his usual spiel that vaguely explained why they just appeared out of nowhere, but the men continuously interrupted him, seemingly getting more demandingly hostile by the minute. Davenport decided to switch tactics.

“I really do apologize for the shock. Believe me, our being here is completely out of our control for the time being. I’m Davenport, the captain of this admittedly odd-looking ship, and they,” he gestured behind himself to the six of them “are my team.”

Neither of the men said anything to this, so Davenport continued, pointing as he introduced them one by one. “That’s Barry, resident scientist, and that would be Lucretia, our records keeper. Taako and Lup, fantastic wizards and even better-”

“Wizards!” thundered one of the strangers in what sounded like an accusation.

The other man stepped forward. When he spoke, it was much quieter but no less threatening. “There is no magic here.”

More accurately, as it was later found, magic was not allowed. It was immoral, illegal, and punishable by imprisonment and, in all likelihood, death. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Davenport had assured them that they would abide by the law and if they needed that in writing he would gladly give it to them, but reasoned that they could not possibly be held accountable for something they weren’t aware of.

Though this did not seem to sit well with either of them, the quieter man suggested that he could at least come plead his case to the law makers, as the two of them were merely enforcers. Davenport had gratefully and humbly accepted, and then turned to face the rest of them.

“If I’m not back in three hours, you know what to do.”

They’d solemnly nodded and he’d left, but thankfully reappeared before time was up.

“I thought it best to be completely honest about how many of us actually have magic,” he’d told them. “They weren’t at all happy about it, but I didn’t want them to somehow figure it out through other means. That being said, obviously no one will use any sort of magic while we’re here, and tread lightly so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“Would it be wiser to relocate elsewhere?” Lucretia asked.

“Possibly,” Davenport replied, “although we don’t know how big this world is or if every other place we come to will be the same. Since they let me come back, I have to assume that we are out of the woods for the time being. We might not be as lucky elsewhere. For now, we will hurry through the usual inspections of the ship and be on our guards.”

They’d all agreed then, but as she walked across the dirt roads of the town back home, the weight of the stares and the bag full of meds on her back, Lup wasn’t so sure. And it didn’t seem like Barry was either. He looked panicky as hell, and that wasn’t helping with the whole “don’t draw attention to yourself” thing. Home was just ten minutes away past the outskirts of town; they just had to get there.

Barry startled when she bumped his shoulder playfully. “Hey,” she said, “what do you think the rash cream is for?”

“Huh?” he replied, barely above a whisper. His gaze darted away and back.

“The not Amoxi-shit. Who needs it and why, go.”

“Why?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yeah!”

“This is a very bad game, Lup,” he told her.

But you’re in. She noted the small smile that had replaced the jittery look he’d had before, and she looked at him expectantly and raised an eyebrow. Eight minutes.

“Magnus, athlete’s foot,” he finally guessed.

“He should wash his socks more often.”

“Gross.” Barry wrinkled his nose. “You’re turn.”

“Lucretia, her hands are always super dry.”

“I don’t know if that counts as a rash.”

She shrugged. “Well, I don’t think you want to hear what I was gonna say.”

“And what was that?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s for Merle for-”

“Oh gods, please don’t!” Barry spluttered, gesticulating as if to wave the idea away.

“You don’t know what it was,” Lup replied innocently.

“I can fill in the blanks on that one, thanks,” he laughed, cheeks faintly pink.

“Probably,” she giggled. “You were right, bad game.”

They were passed the busiest part of town now, paths on all sides leading to smaller neighborhoods. Lup smiled to herself. Five minutes. She glanced in the direction of where the Starblaster would be once they left the town and frowned. Smoke was rising over the tops of the buildings.

“I think I’m good without knowing the details of everyone’s various ailments,” Barry commented, still amused and unaware. “Unless it’s absolutely necessary-”

“Barry,” Lup gasped, eyes wide as she grabbed his arm to stop him. She pointed upwards, heart stopping in her chest.

“What?” he asked, following her line of site. “Oh, shit!”

The Starblaster was taking off, one of the wings on fire. Someone, Taako probably, leaned out the window and cast a spell that put it out as the ship pulled away. Smoke still billowed out over in the direction where they’d set up camp.

“Shit, Lup,” Barry whispered, panicked. “Shit, shit, shit-”

“Shut up, come on.”

She dragged him by the arm the opposite way towards a path with a few run-down buildings, refusing to look in the direction the ship had gone. It’s fine. Whoever went after them didn’t take them down. They’re fine. Taako’s fine.

They turned a corner and found an alley, deserted and dim. Lup let go of Barry’s arm and crouched down, as Barry slid against the wall to the ground. He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes.

“I knew something wasn’t right,” he moaned. “Did you see how everyone was looking at us today?”

She peered back around the way they’d come. “I saw.”

“We should have left yesterday when we finished the inspection. I almost said something to Davenport, but then I figured I was just being overly worried, and I didn’t. And now we’re here, and probably being hunted down. And everyone else, they’re-”

“They are fine, Barry,” she interrupted as she put a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to look up at her. “As are we, as long as we keep it together. Now take a deep breath for a sec.”

He did as she said, exhaling shakily. “How do you know?”

“That they’re fine? I’d feel it if they weren’t,” she replied, almost convincing herself.

Barry nodded and took another deep breath, this one a little less shaky. Lup stood and peered around the side again. Still no one around; they hadn’t been followed.

“Alright, hold still,” she told him after a moment.

“For what?”

“I’m casting Disguise on the both of us so that we at least look like we belong here. We’ll still have to lay low, because anyone who pays attention will know that we don’t, but it’ll at least get us out of this alley. We’ll get a plan after that. Deal?”

Barry agreed, and she got to work.

                                                            ~

The plan, as always, involved a little research. Covers intact, Lup and Barry made their way back through the city to the library, found what resources containing maps they could, and planted themselves in a far corner of the building. No one had paid them any sort of mind, thanks to Lup, and for that, Barry was grateful and could work without looking over his shoulder.

“If circumstances were different,” he said, head bowed over a world map, “I’d be interested in exploring this whole world. It’s not the biggest we’ve been to, but it’s fairly sizable.”

“Well, chalk that up as motivation to get our asses home,” responded Lup’s voice in a body that wasn’t hers at all. Her elf features were replaced with human ones that resembled those of the population here, and she’d gone so far as to Disguise her clothes to match theirs as well. She looked up from her own map and smiled eagerly, which was so very Lup-like that his heart missed a beat anyway. “Then we can explore all we want.”

“Right,” he replied, clearing his throat. He leaned across the table to look at the map she had in front of her. “So, I think it’s safe to assume that when they left Dalry they didn’t go to a different country altogether. So they should be in one of the other six towns in Hen…how do you say that?” he asked, tilting his head to try and make out the name at the top of the map from his position.

“Henorion,” Lup read, sounding it out. “And yeah, I don’t think they’d go that far.”

“Not far if you’re going by air, at least.”

“Put on your best walking shoes, Barold,” Lup joked, singsong.

“Damn it,” he snapped his fingers, “left them in my room.”

“I can add it to your Disguise so that it at least looks like you’re wearing them.”

“Wouldn’t be the same,” he replied with feigned grief, which Lup giggled at. Barry chuckled as well, sitting back in his chair, and looked down at himself. His Disguised self wore shoes that hardly looked comfortable, like they’d pinch his feet if he were actually wearing them. He also knew from seeing his reflection in shop windows on the way here that his hair, normally light brown and shaggy, now appeared cut short and dark. In general, he looked like any guy you’d see on this town’s streets, unrecognizable to himself. Except she’d still made him chubby.

“Didn’t think to slim me down, huh?” he’d asked her.

She’d just stopped and looked him up and down for a moment. “Nope,” she’d finally answered, and then turned on her heel towards the library.

Fair enough. Why bother with the effort for something that wasn’t real?

“Anyway,” he continued, folding up the map he had been looking at, “I think our next stop should be for food supplies we can carry in our bags, and then we’ll hide out until it starts getting dark and make our way out of town.”

“Sounds good.” Lup looked around and then ripped the map out of the book quickly. “Don’t really wanna stay here any longer than that,” she said as she rolled it up and stuffed it in her bag.

Barry looked out the window next to him, movement catching his eye. Three men in brown uniforms ran by the building, long cylindrical instruments he assumed to be some kind of weapon over their shoulders. He turned away and shoved down the fear that was creeping through him. There was no reason to believe those men had anything to do with him and Lup.

“No arguments here,” he said as he slung his backpack on and stood up. “Let’s go.”

                                                              ~

When dusk had fallen and the streets were empty save for stragglers, Lup and Barry made their way back to the end of town limits. Lup wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take them to get to Bellanau, the next town closest to them on the map, or what they’d run into on the way there, but she was confident that they could deal with whatever it might be. And whatever it might be better be interesting so that she could have something to brag to Taako about when she finally found him.

Not far from where they’d been when they saw the Starblaster leave, Lup could see a group of people standing at the edge of town. She focused to peer through the dark and saw that there were probably at least twenty or so men, all dressed in brown. A few had weapons drawn. She knew they weren’t close enough for Barry to see them yet.

“So, don’t panic…”

“What?” Barry asked, panicking immediately.

“People ahead, might be trouble. When you see them, don’t hesitate, just keep walking.”

“O-okay.”

She knew when he saw them by his sharp intake of breath.

“Lup-”

“Keep walking, Barry, they think we’re from here.”

He did as she said, and Lup kept her gaze ahead as they approached. The men silently watched them the entire way, and when they were within earshot, Lup smiled.

“Evening sirs,” she called.

“Evening,” a man who stood in front of the others said, clearly the head of whatever operation was happening.

“What’s all this for?” she asked, stopping in front of him, Barry silent at her side.

“Well ma’am, as you should be aware, we do have reason to believe that two individuals we suspect of having magic might be lurking around town. According to witnesses, the pair were seen in this area when their accomplices took off in that hideous craft of theirs. Too bad we didn’t manage to take them down.”

Beside her, she felt Barry tense at the man’s use of “hideous craft”. Offensive, sure, but her heart soared at the mention that Taako and the rest of them were, as far as these clowns knew, safe.

“Right, well I do hope you find them,” she said cordially. She looped her arm through Barry’s and made to step around the captain, but he held a hand up to stop her.

“Where are you headed this time of night?”

Lup did her best to look put out. “Is this really necessary?”

“No offense ma’am, we’re just being cautious.” He smiled at her. “You understand.”

“Well if you must know, we’re going to Bellanau to visit my sister,” she lied.

“Bell-a-naw, you mean?” the man replied slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“I’ve told her a million times, sir,” Barry piped up. “Bell-a-naw, not Bell-a-now.”

Nice, Barry. She squeezed his arm a little tighter. “Yes, well, I say tomahto…”

She pulled Barry past the guard and then felt him tense when the man put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I need to see your ID.”

“What-” Barry’s voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat quickly. “What for?”

“Checking everyone who comes through, sir.”

“Right, well…I didn’t think I’d need it. Left it at home.”

“And you, ma’am?” the captain said, turning to her.

She shrugged. “Don’t have it either.”

“I’ll have to ask you to come with me to headquarters then for a few more questions,” he said, hand still on Barry’s shoulder.

“This is all very unnecessary,” Lup huffed. Disguise wouldn’t last another hour and she had no idea what an ID looked like here, so she had no way to magic one up even if she could. She stepped back and moved to stand in front of the man again, if only to get him to release his hold on Barry. “We really don’t have time for this,” she told him, and looked around as some of the other men moved from their positions to make a circle around them, clearly taking her actions as a threat. She looked up at the man again. “Can’t we just save all of us from this hassle and you get back to worrying about the two people you’re actually looking for and we’ll be on our way?”

“Afraid not, ma’am,” the captain said, straightening up. “I really think you should come with me.”

“I just-”

“I’m really past the point of talking about this, ma’am,” he interjected with frustration. “Let’s go.”

He reached out to grab her arm and she took a step back, swinging Barry around so that his back was to her, trusting him to know what he needed to do. She had the guys up front; he could take care of the ones behind her. Or they’d go down trying.

The guards she could see all raised black cylindrical weapons out towards them, the ends sparking with some sort of energy. They almost looked like wands.

Not that she needed those. Lup raised her palms up and a small flame appeared in each hand, more of a warning than anything else. A few of the men gasped but none of them faltered, the ends of their weapons continuing to crackle.

“We don’t really have to do this,” she warned coolly, making eye contact with one of the ones who’d made a sound.

He simply scowled at her.

The flames in her hand flickered and then ignited hotter and bigger. “Fine,” she smirked and shot the fire out towards them.

The men quickly scattered away and she lined the ground at their feet with flame. She could hear the sounds of Barry’s magic from behind her and spun around to cast flames on his side as well, preventing their forward movement. Men dived to the ground as Barry’s spells flew towards them.

Flame growing in her hands again, Lup turned back around to pick a target and came face to face with a sneering man and felt something touch her chest. Her eyes grew wide and the man pulled a trigger on the end of his weapon.

Her flame extinguished, and Lup cried out. She felt like it had been pulled, like water down a drain, and felt that same sensation all throughout her body. She couldn’t move, and the pulling feeling continued until there was nothing left to feel at all. Her vision grew hazy and she fell to her knees as the guard stepped back.

“Lup!” she could hear Barry yell, though it sounded far away. She couldn’t answer him.

Then her vision dimmed around the edges, but she swore the fog was still there and had manifested all around her. She managed to pick her head up and look at the guard who got to her, and she barely had time to register that he and the others around him now stood still, expressions blank, before a new face, a woman’s face, entered what little field of vision she had left.

The woman grinned, and that was the last thing Lup saw before everything went black.

                                                              ~

All he could do was pace.

Back and forth, from one end of the room to the other. It was either that or sit, and either way, Barry was accomplishing nothing. Pacing, at least, felt productive in some way, and helped him think. But all of his thoughts had been anxious ones and he was starting to feel worn out.

He stopped and leaned against the wall, his gaze drifting over to the bed on the other side of the room where Lup had been lying, unmoving, since they got here. She didn’t look hurt or sick, thank Whatever, just asleep. But four days was a long time to be out.

“Wake up, Lup,” he pleaded, voice nearly a whisper.

“Are you done pacing a hole in my floor?” a woman’s voice asked from behind him.

Barry turned to the doorway as in came Sadine, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs. She placed the tray on the small table near the door and brushed her wispy red hair out of her face.

“Sorry,” Barry replied.

She smiled at him cheerily. “Don’t be, just come sit.”

He pushed off the wall and did as she asked, sighing heavily as he sat down. Sadine gestured for him to take a mug and he did so.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a small sip. “Uh, you don’t happen to have any cream, do you?”

“Downstairs,” she replied.

“O-oh, I’ll go get it-”

“No need,” she assured him, just as cheerily as before. She snapped her fingers and a small pitcher appeared on the table in front of him. “Help yourself!”

Barry blinked. “Appreciate it,” he said lamely. Sadine’s use of magic seemed very different from his own or that of his friends.

Although, she had saved him and Lup with that confusion spell. She was responsible for the mist that suddenly appeared right as Lup had been hit. As it got thicker, Barry had felt his thoughts go fuzzy, and couldn’t think of how to use another spell, or save Lup, or do much of anything but stand in place. That is, until Sadine had spoken to him.

“You can pick up your friend there,” she’d spoken from behind, and he was then able to turn around and see her standing in front of Lup, who’d passed out on the ground. “No need to worry,” she’d continued unnecessarily, because he didn’t know how to do that. “And you lads all just stand there and look pretty until we leave and forget this little incident even happened,” she finished, spinning around to face each of the men as she spoke.

Sadine helped him put Lup on his back. “Lovely,” she said, and then grabbed him gently by the arm. “You can walk with me now, we’re going to my house. You’ll be fine there. I’ve got a nice little protection spell over it. It’s kept me safe for a good long time,” she babbled. “Suspicion just slides right off it, you know.” And he did.

She let go of his arm when they reached her home and ushered him in. “We’re far enough away now that the confusion should wear off soon, my friend. Oh, dear me,” she fussed, “where are my manners? I’m Sadine. You can tell me your name.”

“Barry,” he’d answered simply.

“That is precious,” she chirped. “I’ll save the rest of the pleasantries for when you’ve got your wits about you. In the meantime, you can walk right up those stairs and find the room with the bed in it. Just put your friend there.”

He did as she said, tucking Lup in with as much care as he knew how to take. Then he’d just stood there, until Sadine had called up to him. “Now, it is late, Barry and I’m sure this whole thing has tired you out. Perhaps it will be better to save the talking for the morning? The confusion will definitely have worn off by then. I only have that one extra bed, which you can get into if you like.”

He moved to do that, pulling back the covers to slide in beside Lup.

“On second thought, not sure how it is between you and your friend,” she called up again with a giggle. “I have a couch down here you can also sleep on.”

Though at that moment he didn’t know much, he somehow knew to choose the couch.

He’d spent the next day fretfully watching over Lup. Sadine was gone most of the day and came back with groceries and an extra shirt for him to change into. She left him alone except to offer food or anything else he might want, but he was too anxious to eat much of anything and declined. On the second day he remembered his manners and thanked Sadine profusely for saving them and offered to help her out around the house in exchange for lodging. She waved the idea away.

“Oh no, dear, that isn’t necessary at all! I’m just happy to have some fellow magic users for company. Haven’t had any of those in quite a long time, you know.”

Before he could ask, she launched into quite a long tale explaining the long history of persecution of magic users in the country. How magic, “for no good reason other than plain old fear of what-if, mind you,” came to be seen as dangerous and evil by those in power without magic, which was, well, all of them. She spared no detail of the very public hunting down and execution of those found with magic, so much so that Barry felt a bit sick afterward, though she told it all as if she were talking about running into an old friend she hadn’t seen in years. He wasn’t sure if anything altered her sunny disposition.

“Are you the last person with magic, then?” he had asked when she finally paused a moment.

“In this area, yes,” she answered him. “But there are quite a number scattered around the country, you know. And most of them have started congregating to one area, so I’ve heard from a few of my friends on the occasions we speak.” She winked at him. “But that’s hush hush.”

Barry cocked his head. “Why haven’t you gone to join them?”

“Well, dear Barry, I’ve lived here the last fifty-seven years,” she replied, as if that was answer enough. “Now, go tend to poor Lup. I’ve kept you long enough, and you haven’t stopped glancing towards the stairs for the last hour anyway.”

On the third day, she pulled up a chair next to him as he sat by Lup’s bed. “You haven’t told me much about yourself yet. How did you get here? You obviously aren’t from here, and I’m going to go out on a very long limb and say that by ‘here’ I mean this world.”

“You believe in other worlds?” Barry asked, surprised.

“Well if I didn’t before, I do now.” She gestured toward Lup. “Haven’t heard tell of anyone who looks like Lup, so stands to reason.”

Barry rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh, sort of a long story and…kind of hard to believe.”

“Oh, ‘hard to believe’ is a statement for people who don’t have magic. I’ll believe in almost anything, dear. As for the long part,” she leaned back in her chair, “I have time!”

And so Barry found himself telling her all of it: about the IPRE, where they were from, why they left, and what happened after. She listened with rapt attention and with an odd look of sympathetic cheeriness, two emotions that he didn’t know were possible to display at the same time.

“You were right,” she commented when he finally finished, “that does sound hard to believe!”

“No kidding,” he chuckled wryly.

“And the Hunger will really consume this entire world if you don’t find your Light?” she asked.

Barry hung his head, guilty for having burdened her with that knowledge. “Yeah,” he replied quietly after a moment.

“You poor things.”

He whipped his head back up again. That wasn’t at all the reaction he expected. “Us?”

“Almost twenty-three years of running from that horrid thing and being unable to stop it. Watching it destroy everything. I can’t imagine! You must be so tired.”

He opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again; he couldn’t answer. Didn’t want to. He hardly let himself think it. What would be the point? It didn’t change anything; he’d still have to wake up every day and face the music. It was much better to never acknowledge the exhaustion.

“I suppose the next thing you should do is to get to the whole finding the Light business, then,” she continued when he didn’t say anything.

“Of course,” he responded, and then glanced at the bed. “But I can’t leave without Lup.”

“Well then, she better be getting herself up soon!”

A day later and still no luck on that front. Barry blew on his tea and took another sip. “What do you think is wrong with her?” he asked anxiously.

“You remember those weapons the guards had, right? What they looked like?”

“Yeah, they sort of looked like wands.”

“That’s on purpose, dear. I’m not sure how it works or how exactly they ever got made in the first place, but the weapon is meant to more or less shut off a person’s powers. Like flipping a light switch, I suppose. A body’s system gets used to magic flowing through it, you know, and when it no longer is, the system just assumes you’ve died, so it shuts down. Obviously, it was never meant to actually kill anyone, but it takes a bit for the effect to wear off. Eventually the body realizes ‘oh happy day, I’m not dead!’ although, that never really is the case for too long after that.”

“And the wand part?”

“Most here use wands for magic. They’re using your own instrument against you.”

Barry shivered. “How long does it take for someone to wake up?”

“A couple of days, give or take. It depends on how strong their magic is. The stronger the magic the longer it takes.”

“Lup’s magic is pretty strong,” he told her fondly over his cup.

“Oh, that I have no doubt, Barry,” she replied, eyes twinkling, “I have no doubt.”

                                                          ~

Unsurprisingly, her magic was incredibly strong.

In the middle of the afternoon on the eighth day, Barry heard a thump upstairs.

“Some asshole better tell me where I am in like ten seconds or I’m gonna start torching this whole place!”

He was up the steps and in the doorway in six. “Lup!”

“Barry!” Lup cried, dropping her fighting stance immediately. “Thank god it’s you, because I was definitely bluffing.” She held her arms out, palms up. “I don’t think I can do magic right now.”

[thecsientist]

david singh isn’t blind

Read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243989

David Singh knows Barry's dating Starling City's mayor Oliver Queen. How does he know? He has eyes - he's seen ten things to lead him to the belief.

Words: 1506, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Flash (TV 2014), Arrow (TV 2012)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Barry Allen, Oliver Queen

Relationships: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Additional tags: Barry isn’t the Flash

David Singh wasn’t blind. He was a detective, after all. He had reason to believe that Barry Allen, the shy CSI who everyone said was in love with Detective West’s daughter, was dating someone. He hadn’t been very proactive with hiding it and David had seen at least ten different indications that he was in a relationship with Starling City’s mayor, Oliver Queen.

1. He was significantly happier.

As a boy who had to live with the trauma of a dead mother and a father with a life sentence, Barry wasn’t the happiest. Sure, he wasn’t depressing, but he often gave David the impression that he was just surviving, not living. Just taking each day as it comes.

Now? Now Barry Allen walked with a spring in his step and a consistent hint of a smile on his face. Every time his phone screen lit up with a new text message, his face glowed along with it as a grin creeped onto his face. Everyone was glad that he was happier, but David couldn’t help but wonder who had been the one to pull Barry back into a happier reality.

2. He began rushing through his work.

David knew that it was unlike Barry to rush through paperwork. Normally, he took his time and messed around with fun little experiments while awaiting a sample analysis. Now, every once in a while, Barry would rush through the paperwork so he could get off work earlier.

“Anywhere you need to get to in such a hurry?” David asked casually as he leafed through Barry’s paperwork to do a quick check. Barry glanced around nervously and answered, “No, no. I’m just tired and I really want to get home early today.”

David knew that wasn’t the real reason. He had been there before, after all, back when he first started dating Rob. He’d done his work in a hurry so he could get back home to his boyfriend. So who exactly was Barry itching to see?

3. The one time he came to work with sex hair and a hickey.

David had noticed it the moment Barry tripped into the precinct. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air around Barry and his eyes landed on the CSI who had a just-fucked daze in his eyes and of course, the obvious hickey he'd poorly hidden on his collarbone. His hair was an absolute mess and his clothes looked as if he’d pulled them on quickly, to avoid being later than he already was.

“Allen, what happened?" David asked, indicating the hickey and his general appearance. Barry glanced down and quickly pulled his jacket over to cover it as he shook his head, “Nothing, Captain. I'm fine.” David raised an eyebrow and watched him run upstairs to his lab. His slight limp didn’t escape David’s attention.

4. At random periods of time, he went out every lunch break.

Barry didn’t always go outside for lunch breaks. The only times he ever did so was if his friends Caitlin Snow and Cisco Ramon weren’t in the mood to get him lunch and Iris was too busy to grab him some coffee. Otherwise, he stayed in his lab and tended to the endless stack of paperwork and folders on his desk.

However, every once in a while, for a week each time, Barry would (without fail) leave the precinct for lunch break before he returned to his normal behavior of staying in the lab during lunch breaks. Joe had confirmed that Barry wasn’t meeting with Iris or the other two scientists. So who exactly was Barry so willing to leave his lab for? Clearly not someone who lived in Central, or Barry would have gone out every lunch break. This person lived in another city and visited a week each time. But who?

5. He wore clothes that weren't his own.

David obviously noticed it. Barry Allen was a big softie. He absolutely refuses to ride the bikes to crime scenes, much less go near anything labelled as ‘edgy’. Yet there he was, walking into the precinct dressed in a leather jacket a size too big for him. Joe passed a casual remark that Barry once mentioned that he would never wear leather jackets.

And there was another time, when Barry wore a shirt that hung loosely on him. Iris had seen it when she came over to get lunch with Eddie and she laughed, saying Barry never liked oversized clothing. Which led David to wonder why would Barry wear clothes he hates? Obviously, they belong to someone he loves and he shares clothes with his partner. David understood that — he has worn some of Rob’s clothes to work before. Judging from the clothes, Barry was dating a man. But who?

6. He had made frequent trips to Starling City.

David had walked into an empty lab — Barry was late again. He sighed and walked over to the CSI’s desk to leave his work for the day, his attention being caught by train tickets. Glancing around, he reaffirmed that Barry wasn’t present before he picked up the train tickets to check. They were two-way trips between Central and Starling. A drawer was open and David realized there were even more Central to Starling tickets in it. So he was making frequent visits to Starling. His boyfriend definitely lives there, then. Who?

7. He was suddenly interested in politics.

Barry Allen, pacifist, never interested in politics in the slightest. It was until Mayor Queen’s political rival, Sebastian Blood, had been making a speech and someone praised the man that David found Barry’s sudden interest in politics strange.

“I think he would make a better mayor than Queen, in my opinion,” Eddie had said as he, Barry, Joe and David watched the politician make a rousing speech on the small television. Barry’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance and he said, “Blood doesn’t strike me as a sincere leader. Queen genuinely cares for the citizens of Starling.” Joe raised an eyebrow, as if to ask how he would know. Barry quickly added on, “I mean, you can see it in the way he does things. Every decision he makes is for the good of his city. I can see it. Can’t you?”

“I guess,” Eddie shrugged, not up for getting into an argument with his friend about Starling’s politicians. David found it suspicious how he cared so much about something he often told his friends to never talk to him about.

8. Oliver Queen showing up at the CCPD.

David had gone up to Barry’s lab again, surprise coloring his face at the sight of Starling City’s mayor already there.

“Mayor Queen. What brings you to CCPD?” he asked. Oliver turned around and asked, “Hello, are you the captain?” David nodded and Oliver answered, “I’m here to ask your CSI for help on this sample. I need an analysis done on it.” He indicated the ziplock bag in his hands. David questioned, “Not to be rude, but why can’t you ask SCPD’s CSI?” Oliver gave him a wry smile, “Your CSI is much more capable, Captain.”

It was more than suspicious to David, but he kept his mouth shut.

9. The time he caught Barry on Oliver Queen’s Wikipedia page.

It was strange, least to say, when David walked in on Barry scrolling through Oliver Queen’s Wikipedia page, snickering to himself as he made minor modifications to the information.

“Allen, what are you doing?” David asked. Barry sat up straight in surprise and slammed his laptop shut, answering, “Um… nothing?” David narrowed his eyes, “You were editing Mayor Queen’s Wikipedia page.” Barry shrugged, caught, “I’m just playing a prank on him. I’ll change it all back after he’s seen it, don't worry.”

“You better. I don’t think he would appreciate someone making a joke out of him,” David advised. He heard Barry mutter something under his breath, but he didn’t pursue the matter any further.

10. And of course, the time he found Oliver Queen kissing Barry in the lab.

David couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting it, but it still caught him by surprise when he went up to Barry’s lab to the sight of Barry leaning down on his desk slightly, his hands pressed up to Oliver’s chest as the mayor kissed him. Their lips moved together in perfect synchronicity and Barry let out quiet breaths of contentedness against Oliver’s mouth. Oliver had one hand supporting Barry’s back, the other pressed to the edge of the desk.

David cleared his throat and the two immediately pulled apart. Barry’s cheeks were colored red, embarrassed that he’d been caught. Oliver didn’t look very fazed, however.

“Captain Singh, I’m so sorry,” Barry started. David interrupted, smiling, “No, Allen. It’s fine. I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy.” He turned to Oliver, “Now, he’s a favorite around here, so if you hurt him, just remember we’re all cops with guns.” Oliver gave him a quirk of his lips as he nodded, “I won’t hurt him, Captain.”

[theaologies]

in your warmth (i forget how cold it can get) [fic] [Chapter 1]

Fandom: The Adventure Zone Main Ship: BarryLup Rating: Mature Chapter Rating: K+ Summary: AU. Barry finds a ghost rummaging through the fridge in his new house. They make a deal. Notes: I haven’t written a multichapter fic in many, many years but the plot for this came to me in a starbucks at 8am after I got off a six hour shift on three hours of sleep. You can’t just say no to that. Read on AO3==>

Chapter 1: in the cold morning light

Barry stares at the form floating in his kitchen and finds no words to properly express the feelings he is experiencing toward the event transpiring before him.

There sure is a ghost hovering, back turned to him, right in front of his open fridge, rustling through the contents within.

"Uh," he finds himself saying, only half willingly, "can I... help you?"

The spectral form stills, a half eaten container of Chinese food in its not quite opaque hand.

For a split second Barry feels a jolt of fear run through him, brought on by the fact that holy shit he sure did just speak to a ghost holy shit a ghost just heard him that is definitely a thing that is happening right now.

But the second he feels his fight or flight response start to kick in any hopes he has of doing, well, anything to run or? Fight? The ghost? Are dashed like waves on a rocky shore. Before he can respond the ghost whirls around to face him in what would have been a pretty magnificent twirl of red robes if it had been alive and Barry can't help but flinch as he prepares for what he knows will be his untimely death.

Which... never comes. No- instead the ghost just gestures exaggeratedly at the slightly soggy paper box in its (hers? It- she's- definitely a young woman) hand, an expression of clear disdain crossing her features.

"You live like this?!" Needless to say, Barry finds himself to flabbergasted to respond. Or do... much of anything but just sort of stare at the ghost currently judging his eating habits. When he doesn't answer she sighs, rolling her eyes and tossing the sad, cold container into the sink. "Hello?" She calls, floating closer to him, waving a hand before his face. "Anybody in there?" She asks, "are you dead, nerd boy? Did my incredible, unearthly beauty kill you?" "Uh..." he starts again, trying to find his words as his brain slowly starts to reboot, "you're, uh, a ghost." The woman before him jerks back, gazing down at him with an incredulous look. She glances down at herself, holding her arms out as if to inspect them. "Oh shit you right," she says, following it up quickly with another roll of her eyes and a scoff. "Yeah, no duh, my dude, what gave it away? The floating? Or the fact that you can see through me but only kind of?" She hovers back and up a little to sit on the bar, crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms as she stares him down. "You're deflecting. Please tell me you usually eat better than that shit Chinese food." "H- hey," Barry defends, holding his hands up before him, "I- I just moved in a few days ago and I've been, uh, a- a little busy. I've barely even gotten my bedroom stuff unpacked, let alone anything else." He gives a sweeping gesture to the living room behind him, littered with stacks of cardboard boxes. "Cut a guy some slack." The woman (ghost? Woman? Ghostly woman?) on his bar frowns a little, looking him over. "So you don't usually eat like that?" "Like... what?" "Like a slob." Barry shakes his head quickly but also can't make eye contact with her, more than giving himself away. "N- no! Of course not I, uh, I... l- like I said, I've just been too busy to do much cooking... or shopping... or anything, really." He scratches the back of his neck, a little sheepish, "I just got a job teaching on campus and it was super last minute so it's just been... really hectic." She narrows her eyes at him, and Barry feels himself start to sweat under her analyzing gaze. "Okay liar," she says as she floats off the bar and then past him, holding up her hand when he opens his mouth to protest. "Not about the college thing," she clarifies, starting to look around at the boxes filling his living room, "about the cooking thing. I absolutely believe you teach at the college but you can't fool me for a second when it comes to your eating habits, nerd boy. I know your type." "I- I'm not that much of a nerd-" "Oh yeah?" She asks, turning back toward him and planting her hands on her hips, "whatcha teach, then, my dear scholarly gentleman?" He feels the blush creep across his cheeks before he can stop it. "Recognizing Signs of Necromancy." The ghost gives a little laugh before returning to her inspection of the boxes. "That's pretty nerdy, my guy. Back in my prime I was all about Evocation which, as everyone knows, is by far the coolest school of magic." Barry can't help but perk up as she starts talking about magic, feeling a little more in his element. Before he realizes what he's doing he finds himself following her around his living room, trailing after her as she flits from box to box. "Oh? You were a wizard, then? M- me too!" "Still a wizard, thanks, and yeah, got that part. What with the whole Necromancy Teacher and all that." "Well it's, uh, actually more like Anti Necromancy, but-" "Still stands- super nerdy." She stops on a dime- so quickly that Barry almost walks straight through her, but forces himself to stop and stumble just a bit to avoid doing so. She looks around the room a few times, her robes moving about her in an ethereal kind of way- slow and exaggerated, like they were in water- before ultimately turning back to Barry. "Pans." He blinks up at her, confused at her sudden statement. Demand? "Excuse me?" "Your pans. Pots? Cooking instruments?" She gestures to the boxes, "which one are they in? None of your shit is labelled. How are you planning on finding literally anything you need in this mess?" "I, uh-" She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Okay, never mind, I'll find them myself. It'll take less time than you trying to figure it out. Tell you what," she plants herself on one of the taller stacks of boxes, not unlike how she did on the bar, "ya girl is, like, double dying to cook something again- it's been like, I dunno, a long fuckin' time since I've been able to and, not to brag, but I'm hella rad in the kitchen. And you, nerd boy-" "Barry." "'Scuse?" "My name? It's Barry," he repeats, crossing his arms, "maybe you could call me my actual name instead of, uh, nerd boy?" A pause hangs heavy in the air between them as he and the ghost woman stare each other down, waiting for the other to break. It doesn't last very long. Clearly, the woman lacks that kind of patience. "Okay, Barold-" "It's just Barry." "Okay, Barry," she huffs, "listen I don't have to offer to make you the best dinner you've probably had in the last, like, ten years you know," she tells him, another frown creasing her mouth, "I'm taking pity on you, Barry, because Gods have mercy you look like you need it." She holds a hand up, stopping his protest before it starts, "don't argue. You know I'm right. So anyway, if you bring me the ingredients I ask you to, I'll make you the most bomb-ass meals, like, ever. I also won't terrorize the ever living shit out of house to the point of forcing you to leave. You get to eat and live here and I get to cook and chill, sound good? Mutually beneficial arrangement." Barry gives himself a few seconds to mull it over, trying to think of anyway this could go wrong. Then, without warning, what she said fully sinks in. "Wait... what exactly do you mean by 'terrorize' and 'won't force me to leave'?" Cocking her head, she raises an eyebrow at him curiously. "What do you mean what do I mean?" She asks quizzically, "I mean just that. I won't terrorize you and force you to leave my house. Why do you think this place was so cheap? The squeaky plumbing?" "...the plumbing's squeaky?" "Barold, I like you, you seem reasonable enough," she tells him, giving a little nod, "you didn't do, well, anything when you found me sorting through your fridge at, what is it, 5am? So you're either reasonable or, like, really stupid and right now I'm hoping it's the former. You also haven't questioned the presence of a ghost in the house you just paid good money for which, frankly, I like in a person." "I do actually have some questions about that," he tells honestly, "I just, uh, didn't really know how to bring it up? Without sounding rude." The grin she gives him is cheeky and wide and she makes the motion of clapping him on the shoulder, though her hand phases right through him (which he finds to be one of the most uncomfortable sensations of his life and is immediately overcome with relief that he didn't stumble through her). "That's cute, Barry, real cute. And we'll get there, we'll get there, but right now- how 'bout that cooking deal?" He doesn't really think he has much of a choice in the matter. And really, even if he did, this unexpected ghost in his house looks so happy at the prospect of just getting to cook, he doesn't think he could turn her down even if he wanted to. "Uh, yeah, sure? I guess... that sounds pretty good." The holler of excitement she gives nearly scares him to death as she proceeds to throw her fist and then herself up into the air, spinning as she goes straight through the ceiling and up through the second floor. "Yes!" He hears her call distantly, "you won't regret it!" And then suddenly she's behind him again, giving him a start yet again. "I'll leave you a list of what to get, yeah?" She tells him, all toothy grins, "anything you can't eat? Won't eat? Tell me now or forever hold your peace." "Uh, milk?" "No dairy, gotcha." She floats around him, forcing him to turn in circles to follow her, "okay, yeah, I'll leave you a list of what to get on the bar." Barry catches her glancing back at the clock on the wall, and then outside, "yeah. I won't be around much longer, so I gotta get on this. You can stay if you want but I can't promise I'll be real interesting, so..." Barry gives a little shake of his head, "no, I, uh, I'll leave you to it? I kinda... wanna get a little more sleep. Or see if I, uh, I guess end up waking up from this? I'm not one hundred percent convinced this isn't a dream, so." She laughs again, bright and hot like a flame. "I get that, dude, you get some shut eye for the both of us, huh?" She winks. Barry flushes. She laughs again. "Barold, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

[melforbes]

sunday, 3am

“Gently,” she stressed.

Sitting on the sink-counter, she looked washed-out in the harsh fluorescent light of their bathroom, a little spatter of blood staining the shoulder of her light blue scrubs, her skin a wintery kind of pale and her freckles fading as though they’d been one of God’s afterthoughts. Her braid rested tattered and ripped down her spine, long red strands falling in front of the bruises on her cheek, and as he carded her hair back behind her ear, she flinched involuntarily, her shaky hands stilling on her lap, her breath hitching.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, the bag of ice in his hand hovering before her, his brain buzzing in the overtired way he used to feel accustomed to. If his circadian rhythms were reliable, then he and his body estimated that three in the morning, maybe half past, had come and gone. A long time ago, she’d told him that keeping lights on from the nighttime hours of ten-to-ten harmed the brain’s ability to produce melatonin, but he figured that light would be the least of their worries tonight.

Softly, she met his gaze, then looked back down at her lap.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing at the word. “I’m just...I’m still a little shaken up.”

He nodded, then gingerly brought the ice to her cheek, and though she recoiled at first, luckily she eased against his touch, let out a deep, exhausted breath.

“Is there any bleeding?” she asked, her voice muffled by the ice.

“None at all,” he said.

She swallowed, said, “The nurse there seemed like she was doing a great job of cleaning it.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re not concussed?” he asked as he leaned against the sink, the house around them so still and silent that it made the winter beyond them feel heavier and thicker than it already was. 

Looking up at him, she delicately pressed her lips together, said, “Had the nurse check. No headache or dizziness. I’m fine, Mulder.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. 

Though she avoided late shifts and preferred not to work on Saturdays, she’d been on a Saturday evening to Sunday morning emergency room shift, eight pm to eight pm, but a one am call let him know that a drunk patient, a punch to the face, and some police involvement meant that she would be coming home early. The last time he, in her words, went caveman left them both embarrassed and uncomfortable, but now, he wished he could’ve been there, could’ve watched over her and had her back so that some drunkard would’ve never decked her behind a modesty curtain, wouldn’t have had a chance to let her head thud against a sterile linoleum floor before punching her again. Though he wanted to think of this protectiveness as more than an ancient biological imperative, though he wished he didn’t find himself at fault for something so clearly irrelevant to his existence, he still brought Duane Barry and Phillip Padgett and all of the other men who had wronged her to mind, wondered once more if he could’ve done more. While at the Bureau, he could’ve argued that he was her partner, that it was of the utmost importance for them to watch each other’s backs, but now, he could hardly merit the wish.

And had he been there, he probably would’ve been decked too, only he would’ve cried about it instead of stoically driving home afterward like she did. Sometimes, he figured, the universe chose to punch the ones who could take it, not the ones who couldn’t.

“You’re never working a night shift again,” he said, hoping to elicit a laugh or at least a pained smile; thankfully, she reached toward him, wrapped her fingers in his open hand, kept her eyes down but let him know that she was present and receptive anyway. 

“I sure hope not,” she said, “but if they ever want me to, I’m sure that citing this incident will make them change their minds.”

Softly, he laughed, and though he figured it would hurt her to smile, the purplish and red smears of bruises on her cheeks keeping her from moving her face too much, she still quirked her lip, the movement minute but visible. 

“Did you have any Advil before you got home?” he asked.

“I had one before I left the hospital.” 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

She sucked her lips in again, met his gaze, so he nodded in understanding. He figured neither or them would be getting much sleep tonight.

“Well,” he said, his voice turning theatrical, “I can offer some warm milk-”

“No hot liquids,” she said quickly. “Have to keep the swelling down.”

“Okay,” he said, off-put. There went his ideas for chamomile tea and maybe a warm bath in order to calm her down. “Then, cold water.”

“Thrilling.”

He squeezed her hand.

“What are you looking for, then?” he asked. “My mind goes numb after midnight.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “A movie, something mindless. Just until we feel we could fall asleep.”

So she shed her blood-smeared scrubs and opted for pajamas and thick socks; while she migrated to the couch, held the ice against her more bluish cheek, he rifled through their bookshelf, found Sleepless in Seattle and liked the irony it provided, so he popped the tape in, the lights off in their living room, the fish tank fluorescent and bubbling in the background, the winter winds shifting the shutters on their fixer-upper farmhouse. He sat on her less-bruised side, and as she spread a shared blanket over their laps, he fast-forwarded coming attractions of many years ago, her two hands wrapping around his free one. While the movie began, he tuned Meg Ryan out and kept his eyes on her instead, tried to survey her body for telltale signs of stress. 

She’d told him long ago that she felt anxiety not in her mind but in her limbs, in her joints; while her thoughts told her to push forward, her body cringed and faded, her demise coming not from her will but from her physical breakdown, so he’d tried to be a constant for her, had kept track of her hours and made sure that, even when she seemed so determined to finish just one more stack of paperwork, she would go home for a good night’s rest instead. From those many times, he knew what to look for: raised shoulders, shaky hands, huffed breaths, glasses pushed up far more often than one would expect. However, tonight shifted that response because her breakdown had come from a patient, not from herself, so while she took shallow breaths during the movie, he traced his thumb against the back of her hand, let her lean into him with her face angled so that his shoulder and her bruises never quite made contact. As four am ticked past, he realized that he’d never watched this movie in full, but because he’d distracted himself during the first half of the film, he hadn’t a clue where the plot went.

“Scully?” he whispered, almost wincing at how his voice interrupted the special, rural silence around them. 

When she didn’t shift, he craned his neck, and though he should’ve been able to tell through her long, languid breaths against his chest, he only noticed that she’d fallen asleep when he looked down and saw her closed eyes. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off, and with deft, gentle motions, he managed to lift her up without waking her - after all, she could sleep anywhere, from passenger’s seats of cheap rental cars to bleach-ridden motel beds to his old leather couch back before he’d been able to offer her a bed instead - and carried her upstairs though his aging joints protested with each step. 

Thankful that he’d left the bed unmade after she’d called, he managed to slip her beneath the overturned sheets on his side of the bed, tucked her in before he climbed in on the other still-made side. Out here, the nights were dark save for the endless lines of unobstructed stars in the sky, so he kept their bedroom’s blinds up, soft light falling over her bruising face, the rise and fall of her chest shifting the duvet while she slept. Her pillow smelled like that lavender shampoo she liked, and though the stuffing was too thick for him, he found that he could still relax into it, their respective alarm clocks off for now, her bedside book-stack dwindling as his seemed only to grow larger, her reading glasses askew and the closet door left open in a way that would’ve scared him as a child. 

And he presented himself with two lonely options: either he could work out hundreds of different scenarios that left her unscathed and him some kind of half-assed hero, or he could watch her soft breaths until their cadence lulled him to sleep. For once, he picked the second option and drifted off before morning began to creep through the windows.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #40: Mall.

Written: 2/8/2017

No matter how many noises she could her around her, useless conversations, ambient music, chatter from wall mounted televisions, dropping and clanking of plates and plastic trays, loud orders, she couldn’t stop focusing on the basket of fries in front of her, and its not like they were interesting or anything, it was just something she had to stare at to think over her problems. When she sat down to eat, she was perfectly fine, it was just a regular day and she was trying to get all of her shopping done so she could get home and lay around, but something happened when she started eating: she didn’t feel real. It was a feeling that had been sitting at the back of her mind for quite some time, and errands usually helped ignore it, but at that moment it had decided to make itself known, occupy her whole mine, and become her world. If she wasn’t real, then what was the point of doing anything? Why eat any more? Why get up and throw the fries away, drive home, continue shopping, or even look around at her surroundings?

She had been sitting with her legs crossed, and her right leg, the one on the bottom, had started to fall asleep. Was she supposed to do anything, would it matter? It was a weird problem to deal with, because it wasn’t really a real problem. It wasn’t something you could, say, search online, there were no tutorials or guides for not being real, no self help books that she could buy and help figure out her situation, so she was completely lost.

After twenty minutes of sitting like this, her phone started vibrating on the table, and even though she couldn’t hear the sound-which was surprisingly loud-she could feel the vibrations on her arm, and she decided to answer it.

“Oh, hey, Tom its me, Leonard. You left your skis in the back of my van, and I was wondering when you were on break so I could bring them over-”

“Wrong number.” She said quickly, after hearing enough, and promptly hung up. Looking around her, finally noticing her surroundings after her temporary distraction, she realized she was bored of the food court, and should probably finish her shopping, but as she was about to stand up, she questioned if there was even any point to it if she wasn’t real. Right back into philosophical paralysis she went.

Tom had been waiting in line for what felt like an hour, but it was actually ten minutes, and he started to cross his arms, tap his left foot, and look around the food court like he had better things to do. He felt that this made him look important, but it really just made him look like an impatient dick, which he was. The people of the food court all looked like animals to him, and he couldn’t help but feel disgusted by the way they chomped down pizza slices so greasy that they dripped, chewed egg rolls with their mouths open while the spewed food everywhere when something made them laugh, the way they drank lemonade so carelessly that it poured down their chins and onto their shirts, picking at salad with their grubby fingers, it made him even more agitated. Yet, when he focused back on the line, which wasn’t even very long since there were two people ahead of him, he wanted to scream, so he had to watch the animals all over again.

Tom was at the mall all by himself, and did almost everything by himself. Skiing was the only thing that let him socialize.

Eventually, he saw a girl who was more refined than all of the other animals, so refined, civilized, elegant, that he could consider her human, maybe even an equal to him. All she did was stare down at the table, and he liked to imagine that it was because she couldn’t stand the people around her either, that she was exactly like him, and he could approach her, bear his heart, and she would look him in the eyes and say-

“Buddy, are you going to order or what?” The marsupial-esque man behind the sub counter shouted to Tom, and the people in line behind him started to gripe.

He scoffed, walked up slowly, studied the menu for a couple seconds, and said, “I’ll have the foot long tuna sub. On that I would like meatballs, garlic, and sriracha.” He couldn’t help but return the sandwich jockeys confused stare with a smug smile. Who was this worker to look down on his taste?

Starving and confused, Barry had been wondering around the food court for quite some time, unable to decide on what he was in the mood for. At first pizza seemed like a good decision, but then he realized that was something he could order at any time, he had to get the unique food court experience right? After all, why would he come all this way just for something he could get back in his home country? Foreign lands never ceased to amaze him, and it was beautiful how all the colors were brighter, the lights more intense, the sounds louder, and the words even were a little blurry.

He had been on a misguided cleanse for two weeks now, and it had left him malnourished, starving, dizzy, confused, shaking, and a little fearful. He couldn’t even remember how he got to the food court in the first place, or that there were supposed to be two more weeks left in his cleanse, or even what country he was in. He actually lived two blocks away from the mall, and had only ended up there after wandering out of his house in order to do something that was long forgotten.

Subs seemed nice, and he was pretty sure that although he could get sandwiches in his home land, he couldn’t get a foreign one, and was interested in how they made them here, what ingredients they put it, but the line seemed very long. At first he was okay with waiting, but it seemed like the man at the front was taking a lot of time. Was that how things worked in this place? It seemed like they were having an argument, but all of their sounds seemed feint, their language was indeed a strange one.

Eventually, he noticed there was a place without a line so he wandered over to it, put his wallet on the counter, and said, “What currency do you use here? I’m very hungry, but I’m not sure if I have the right kind of money.”

The sub maker was starting to get pissed off, and was wondering if he should call his manager, or security. For the third time in a row he yelled, “If you’re not going to pay, I wont give you the food!”

“Look here,” Tom was almost livid at this point, and he couldn’t believe that this horrid little man was trying to boss him around, “if you don’t cough up the sandwich,” he made sure to jab his finger and the sandwich,”then I’m going to give you,” then he jabbed it into the man’s chest, “a terrible review online. The amount of business you lose is going to cost-”

“Oh, the amount of business I lose?”

“Yeah, the amount that you will lose is going to-”

“I’m already going to lose business if you keep holding up this friggin’ line! Get out of here, before I call somebody to get you out.” What really was making him mad wasn’t just this asshole, when you work in the service industry you see more dicks in a shift than a call girl, but it was the fact that one guy had already wandered off already and he didn’t want others to follow suit.

A strange thing happened, and Barry wasn’t sure if this was the way things worked in this country, but his wallet started to vibrate. Was this his currency exchanging? He was almost to afraid to touch it, and at that moment he finally was able to comprehend culture shock. “Shusd siadsh fjairads nas oeura?” the person behind the counter asked him, he wondered what it meant. Maybe he was able to pay now? It was all so confusing, and he would’ve walked away in fear if he wasn’t so hungry.

“I’ll take the number nine please.” That was the safest thing he could say, even if he couldn’t tell what the number nine was, he knew that he’d be happy to eat it.

She really didn’t know how to respond to this, what was this guy talking about? It wasn’t even clear how long he’d been standing there, staring down at her while she stared at her fries, but when his phone started to vibrate Janice became a little uncomfortable by this man’s sudden appearance. And it wasn’t just bad that he had been staring, but he also looked practically dead, or like he was about to be. The man had a way of swaying as he stood, like he was a tree in the wind, and his clothes were much too baggy for his bony, pale frame. She decided to ask again, hoping that he couldn’t hear over the sounds of the court, “Are you going to answer that?”

“Okay, the number three then.” He tried to sound more confident this time, and he really was, because if the menu wasn’t large enough to have a nine on it, it would definitely have a three. Creeping in the back of his mind, there was the thought that this country might use a different number system, but he tried to push that down.

The best course of action seemed to answer the guy’s phone for him, since whoever it was might be concerned about his well being, and he didn’t even seem upset that she was answering for him. “Shit, Tom is that you? My break isn’t for very much longer and I really need to get these ski's out of my car. I was hoping to-”

“Look buddy,” the security guard was walking over so he had to wrap things up quick, show that he was in the right, “You just lost a customer!”

“I lost a lot of customers, but you weren’t one of them. Hey, you, next in line, your subs free, whaddaya want?”

“Hey,” she was surprised to hear this guy again, and maybe he was just an extension of her unreality? She had to push that thought down, though, because if she wasn’t real that was fine, but this guy in front of her might be real and if he was he was in desperate need of help, “I’m not Tom, but he’s in front of me and doesn’t seem to well. I think-” but what if it wasn’t just that she was real, but the whole setting wasn’t real, including the people, including this walking corpse who was unable to give any actual responses, including the one person who seemed to be behind all of the phones, including, well, this kept going and she was unable to move again.

The nice man had taken Barry’s wallet, but he made a couple comments and didn’t give it back, a worrying response. Did he not have enough money? He felt like he should’ve, but maybe there was less than he had brought after the currency had exchanged, since his country’s had been worth less. He had to think quick, he felt like he was about to pass out, and was still a little upset about missing out on the number nine, so he began to take off his wallet and put it onto the counter.

“Hello? What’s going on with Tom, is he sick? Hello? Hello?” It felt pointless to answer, because the watch sitting in her basket of fries felt like a confirmation, like ‘Yes, this is all made up, you will not exist in a short amount of time, or a long amount, who knows. But what really matters is you probably don’t exist now, so maybe you wont not-exist later, because you already don’t and’ she wasn’t very good with philosophy.

Muttering to himself, pissed that that awful little man refused to serve him, which was downright discrimination, Tom decided to finally make a move on that cultured babe who refused to take part in the disgusting exhibit around her, but when his eyes finally found her he was almost dismayed to find some heroin addict swooping in on his territory. He marched over there as quickly as he could, needing to show that guy up, get the girl, and prove to everyone, especially the marsupial (but also not the marsupial, because that guy was below him and not even worth thinking about), that he was better than them.

“Hello? Can you at least tell me where you are? Should I call an ambulance?”

“Do you have a dollar menu if that is not enough? Is enough, enough?” What currency have you?”

Almost snapping back, deciding to speak again, pushing down her worries in the case that this man really needed help and it wasn’t worth it to let him stay like this on the off-chance that he was actually real, a man sat on the table, on the top, almost right in front of her, and proved that none of this could really be real. The guy was wearing some ratty, gray pullover that had the local community college’s insignia on it, black slacks, and had a face that could only be described as punchable. She really couldn’t think of any other word for it. He also had thick eyebrows, that seemed very close to connecting, that he made sure to groom, in front of her, by licking his right index finger and sliding them both back. His hair was short, but incredibly messy. Opening his mouth, showing some of the longest teeth she had ever seen, so long she wasn’t even sure if there was enough room for food to go in, only a small opening existed that seemed like just big enough for a straw, the guy told her eight words that further proved that none of this was real: “I’ve never been with a black girl before.”

“Are you just messing with me? I’m going to hang up if you don’t say something”

It seemed like another person had come up to the counter, maybe it was a manager? Was he in trouble? All he needed was some food, why was this so complicate? Looking around, he was having trouble seeing any other restaurant, maybe they closed, maybe this one was closing and that’s why he wasn’t being served. He turned to the original cashier and begged, “Please, I’m in the desperate need for some nourishment or my body may give out on me. I know I may not have enough money, and you’re trying to run a business, but could you at least spare me something, not out of charity, but for health reasons? Can I at least have the food you may throw away?”

All that really came out was: “Can I… what throw away? Yes?”

“Okay, fuck you pal, I’m hanging up. I don’t even know why I’m holding on to these ski’s in the first place.”

Tom turned around, sizing up this junkie, taking the question as a threat. “Look buddy,” he made sure to jab his finger in the guy’s chest, not because it was a normal behavior of his, but because he wanted the most recent memory of him using it related to him successfully showing how great he was, “I was talking her, so back off, eh?” Apparently it worked, because the guy stumbled back a couple steps.

When the toothy man started touching her hair she was certain that none of this was real, but she knew that she also couldn’t stand it. What sort of fucking creepy reality was this?

“I love natural hair, its so exotic, it really gets me going.” He was so sure that he was about to seal the deal, he just had to drive it home, “Why don’t you come back to my place? I’d really like to see your dark skin on my white-”

Although the punch wasn’t real, the satisfaction of punching him in the mouth was, especially when the asshole fell down, behind the table, and stayed on the ground for quite some time.

Seeing the manager jump over the counter, and land right by him, he was to confused to know what was going on. Just wanting to get his wallet and watch back, he felt around the counter and found what he assumed were fries, figured that his order had gone through, and forgot everything that was happening, his complete focus was on eating.

Tom was startled by this turn of events, and really wanted to yell ‘You’re one crazy bitch’, but soon realized that one of his teeth was lodged into his throat, and he couldn’t really say anything.

Finally getting up from the table, and walking around to the slime bag on the ground, Janice decided that while she may not be real, and her surroundings may not be real, her feelings definitely felt like they were real, so it made the most sense to do activities that-no matter how unreal-kept her in a good mood. Sending her boot heel down onto the guy’s mouth definitely proved to make her feel good, and she made sure to do so several times just to dislodge more of his teeth. There was something about those teeth that made her want to break them, it was the same feeling of satisfaction you would get from throwing a brick through a large glass window.

How long had he been eating? He wasn’t really sure, but he knew that he didn’t want to stop.

Tom didn’t know why, but before he was forced into unconsciousness, he had a full on erection.

[suddenrundown]

                       All the Time in the World: Chapter 4

There was nothing more exciting than good science.

Actually, that probably wasn’t a universal feeling. But since he wasn’t one for finding excitement in adventurous ways, Barry maintained that science was the most pleasantly exciting thing he could possibly engage in. Nothing got his heart pumping like theorizing and testing and ultimately coming up with conclusions that gave satisfactory answers to the major questions of life. Having answers was the best feeling.

The worst was explaining them.

Continued under the cut, or you can read it on ao3

“So our recorded state-”

“Wait wait, our what now?”

“Recorded state.”

“Oh. No wait, sorry, what?”

Barry sighed heavily as he dragged his hands down his face. He wasn’t necessarily irritated at Magnus’s questions; he was just completely exhausted. He’d spent much of this seventh year attempting to understand the “cycle” that the IPRE had found themselves stuck in, how and why they kept being reset after exactly 365 days had passed. The why wasn’t exactly clear, but months and months of long days and late nights had more or less lead to an understanding of how it kept happening. Definitely worth it, but draining nonetheless. But he couldn’t complain too much; he hadn’t had to shoulder the task alone.

“You know that wicked black eye you always have at the start of every year, Magnus?” Lup asked from beside him. “And that scratch you have on your forehead, Merle?”

Both men instinctively reached up to touch the spots their respective ailments always appeared, and then nodded as Lup continued. “You had those when we left home, and then the Hunger came and destroyed everything. It somehow screwed up the planes, and when we passed through ours, our state of being was basically stitched into reality. So every year when the Hunger comes back and we leave the plane, we’re reset to exactly as we were. Magnus has a black eye, Merle’s got a scratch, and I’m standing over there, Taako’s next to me, and so on. Recorded state.” She looked at Barry then, smiling. “Right?”

He smiled back. “Right.”

Barry could think of at least ten different ways to break the ice and become less awkward around your coworker, and all of them would be better than “have a break down in front of them and cry on their shoulder”. Unfortunately, cycle five had forced him to do just that, but somehow that had worked for them. Now almost two whole cycles later, he could actually look Lup in the eye without combusting from his own awkwardness. Though she didn’t seem like she would be, Lup was interested in science, and their individual skills complimented each other to the point that he worked better with her than by himself. If one good thing came out of the mortifying situation from that shitty year, it was that he now had a partner, and he was definitely grateful for it.

“Fascinating.” Lucretia stilled the pen in her hand and looked up from her notebook. “Do we have any idea how to break the cycle?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Barry answered her. “That probably has something to do with stopping the Hunger, and we have no clue how to do that.”

“Yet,” Lup added, sounding eager.

“Yet,” Barry repeated with a chuckle.

“Well, you did answer quite a few questions that we had, and for that I commend you,” Davenport told them. “I’m sure we’ll learn more in the next cycle, but you’ve done well in this one, and you should be proud of yourselves. Keep it up.”

Barry nodded and stifled a yawn. Lup stood completely straight and raised her hand in a dramatic salute. “Aye aye, Cap’n Port.”

Davenport groaned quietly and suddenly looked just as tired as Barry felt, but he didn’t protest the nickname. He’d given that up a while ago. It was harmless, after all, and Barry suspected that he secretly relished the joy that it brought Lup, Magnus, Taako, and Merle to call him that. For his part, Barry tried not to laugh. How did Lup have so much energy and where could he get some? Maybe a nap would help.

As Davenport dismissed them and the group dispersed, Barry thought maybe he’d do just that. They didn’t have much time left in this cycle and they’d already found the Light, so maybe he had time for a small break. He yawned again, unable to stifle it this time, and felt himself sway to one side as he closed his eyes. Maybe he could just sleep standing up and not have to move anywhere.

He startled at the sound of a giggle from beside him. “You going to just fall over or what’s your plan here, Barry?” Lup looked way too amused to pull off the pitying look she was trying to go for.

“I thought about falling over,” he replied, slightly embarrassed, as he rubbed the back of his neck. “But I guess right here on the floor wouldn’t be very comfortable.”

“Sounds adorable, though.”

He tried not to overthink her use of the word. “Either way, my bed sounds better.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She lightly punched him in the arm, not hard enough to hurt (much) and gave him a small wave as she walked off. “Eat dinner with me later!” she called over her shoulder.

“Will do!” he promised, rubbing his arm.

As he made his way to his room, kicked off his shoes, and crawled into bed, a small thought in his sleep deprived brain cursed the fact that it wasn’t dinner time yet. Which was stupid. He wasn’t at all hungry.

As he drifted off to sleep, he rubbed his arm again, even though it no longer stung.

                                                                 ~

“You know what doesn’t follow this whole recorded state rule? My hard candies.”

Barry almost choked on the water he’d just taken a sip of. He looked at Magnus seated beside him. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

“You and Lup said that we keep going back to our recorded state whenever we leave the plane. But I guess it only applies to us and not, like, objects, because I never see my supply of hard candies that I brought with me from home restock.” Magnus sighed then. “Also, I’m almost out.”

“Unfortunate,” Taako, sitting across from him, snorted.

Honestly, trust Magnus to worry about things like his hard candies not regenerating along with his own body. But that was fine; not everyone needed to be filled with anxiety over the possible consequences of their states of being, as Barry was trying not to be. It’s not like he knew what those could possibly be.

“It’s a tragic loss, Magnus, really,” Lup said from her seat beside Taako. “Rest in pieces, candy.”

Barry did laugh at that, as did Magnus and Taako. “Yeah, thanks, Lup,” Magnus chuckled.

She winked at him, then the four of them fell silent as they continued eating. After a moment, she broke the silence once again.

“Any guesses on what the next world is going to be like?”

Right, they had thirteen days left before the Hunger came. This world hadn’t been so bad; the inhabitants were nice, if a little distrusting at first, and it hadn’t been that hard to find the Light since it had fallen pretty close to the Starblaster. But there were still some complaints.

“Whatever its like, can it just not rain all the time?" Taako whined. “It makes my hair frizzy and I can’t pull that off. Actually,” he paused for a moment, thinking. “I can. But I don’t like it.”

“It has been pretty damp,” Barry agreed.

“I’m all for better weather,” Lup said. She then smiled enthusiastically in Barry’s direction. “We can have more adventures that way!”

And by “we” he knew she meant the two of them. There had actually been two positives that came from his meltdown. Not only had he gained Lup as a partner, he had also gained her as a friend. Or maybe it just made him realize that Lup was already his friend, despite the fact that she was way too cool to consider him one. It really made no sense to him, but he cherished that friendship anyway, and all that came with it, including Lup’s version of affection.

Once Barry started actually spending time with Lup, it was obvious that she’d been attempting to show him this affection all along. She punched him in the shoulder or she tousled his hair, and these actions generally proceeded her calling him adorable. Or cute, or something similar. And once he learned that that was Lup’s way of showing him she cared, he stopped blushing profusely over it.

It didn’t, however, stop the overwhelming fondness from creeping across his heart.

He tried not to melt under the blinding smile she gave him now, or shrink away from the gazes of Magnus and Taako, whose presence at this moment, for no particular reason, made him squirm in his seat. It’s not like they knew how cheesy he was.

“We’ll have plenty, weather be damned,” he said, making it very obvious how cheesy he was.

But neither of the other two men seemed to notice or care, as Magnus changed the subject to his hope that the next world would at least have hard candy somewhere. Barry listened as he argued with Taako about the possibility of the elf either making him some through magic or normal means, and Taako claimed that idea to be a gross misuse of either of his skills, thank you very much. To diffuse the situation, Lup interjected with a conversation she had with “Cap n’ Port” about wanting to come up with better ways gain the confidence of the inhabitants of the worlds they visited, since they seemed to have issues doing so.

Barry nodded. “Cap n’ Port’s right, though, that’s-”

“Who now?” Taako asked, attention snapping to Barry immediately, clearly delighted.

“I-no, um,” Barry stammered, realizing his mistake. “I mean-”

“That’s our captain, Barold!” Taako held his hand dramatically to his chest in mock offense as Lup and Magnus snickered.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, its very funny,” he conceded, blushing only a little. He should learn to think before speaking. Or stop hanging around Lup so much.

Lup stood and leaned over the table towards Barry and rubbed his hair. “Cute,” she giggled.

As she sat back down in her seat, he reached up to pat his hair back down, trying not to blush any harder as he made eye contact with her. She smiled at him affectionately.

Think before speaking it was.