Chapter Text
The key may as well have been made of mercury or jello or even lube for all the luck Barry's having actually inserting it into the lock. He's tired, his hands are shaking causing him to fumble, and he practically does a face plant into Jason's chest when his boyfriend opens the door, his brain too woolly to react swiftly enough to the barrier's sudden disappearance. The mortifying realization that Jason never actually gave him a key to his flat is jarred loose as he tumbles into the startled man.
"What the hell?" Jason curses, catching Barry awkwardly. "Barr? Are you alright?" His strong arms slip around the scientist's body, the only things keeping Barry from collapsing in a heap. "Barr?"
"Hmmm?" the blond replies, barely coherent and lending singular focus to savoring Jason's warmth. He doesn't have a chance to say anything else, not that he could, before there's an arm hooked under his knees and another curled around back and he's being carried bridal style over to the sofa, Jason hip-checking the door closed behind them.
Despite the younger man's best attempts to seat his boyfriend upright, Barry's body stubbornly insists on listing to the side, muscles too weary to support himself. The blond's eyes drift closed as his head lolls, a pained moan escaping his lips.
"Barr? Babe? Are you hurt?" Jason asks, his fingers dancing lightly over his boyfriend's skin and clothing, checking for the obvious signs of injury and seeing none.
Barry manages to shake his head "no," because he's not – at least not anymore. He'd been thinking clearly enough to stay on the Watchtower until the cuts closed and the bruises faded, although some of the discomfort still lingers. The rib fracture is now hairline at worst; another hour or so and it'll be healed, too. Still, the older man wishes breathing was optional. When Jason doesn't say anything further, he cracks an eye open, the lid moving reluctantly upwards against gravity, and tries to focus on his boyfriend.
Jason's face is a study in worry, and Barry feels a pang of guilt in his gut. As his gaze drops, he notices the empty bowl and glass on the coffee table and suddenly realizes just how late it is. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his shoulders slumping, "I shouldn't have come over. I ruined your evening."
"You did warn me that you'd be a crap date," the younger man replies, trying for levity.
Barry still sees the brief flicker of disappointment on his face before it fades back into worry.
"I'm going to assume you still haven't eaten real food." Jason's eyes are narrowed, assessing, taking in the fine tremors that race up and down his boyfriend's limbs and the sickly pallor to his skin.
"I do not know these words you speak," Barry replies, also going for humor. The sentence comes out slightly slurred as his eyes droop closed again, giving up the fight. At the corner of his mind, he's aware of his boyfriend standing and moving away. From a distance comes the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, metal clanging against metal, and then with nearly silent footsteps, Jason is back at the sofa.
Strong hands position the scientist upright once more – at least long enough for Jason to slip onto the cushion at Barry's side. Then, with a bleary hum , the older man is allowed to flop gently back against the solid bulk of his boyfriend's torso. He feels Jason's laugh vibrate under his ear.
"No sleeping yet," the raven-haired man says firmly.
Barry feels him twist slightly, and he cracks open an eye long enough to see a spoon swim hazily into focus. His face scrunches as he cuddles closer, arms snaking around his boyfriend.
"Uh uh. Eat," Jason orders, his tone now more exasperated than amused.
There's a long moment – several nanoseconds – of internal debate before Barry lets his jaw drop open. He's too exhausted to lift his head, but somehow Jason still manages to aim the spoon well enough that none of the soup escapes. He lets the liquid sit on his tongue for a moment, savoring the flavors of cumin, garlic, and lemon, before humming a question.
"Lentil soup," Jason replies, angling another spoonful at Barry's lips. This one disappears without complaint, the first mouthful having awakened the scientist's hunger. Before long the bowl is empty, and the blond is purring sleepily. "Thought that might make you feel better," the younger man says, dropping a kiss to the top of Barry's head.
"Good cook," Barry mumbles, burying his nose in Jason's shirt and breathing him in.
"Thanks, babe." There's pause filled with uncertainty before Jason mentally shrugs and asks the obvious question. "What happened?"
Barry sucks in a breath and lets it out in one long, slow stream. He feels his heart start to jackrabbit in his chest as the too-bright images and a cacophony of sounds whirl through his thoughts. With effort, he manages to make his mouth work.
"A group of super villains decided to terrorize a small town for absolutely no reason that anyone – even Batman – could figure out.
"They took out the power grid and broke open a dam, almost flooding everything before Superman blocked the hole with this massive hunk of rock he carved out of the ground with his heat vision. Firestorm arrived late and was only able to transmute some of the escaped water into air or other harmless elements, so Aquaman and I tried to rescue those trapped in the flood path.
"But the water came so quickly and with so much force that we couldn't get to everyone in time no matter how hard we tried. And, of course, as we're trying to help, we had to fight off all the bad guys, who just kept coming and wouldn't stay down. And we couldn't do both at once, which means that we couldn't save everyone. People died. We couldn't save them all.
"I'm The Flash."
That's what he wants to say.
"People died," is what he does say, the words swimming in tears. Kids died. Parents died. Grandparents died. The bad guys fucking laughed as people died. Barry's hands fist in Jason's shirt, and a mournful sound escapes from his throat. He knows he's tired. He knows he's not thinking clearly. He knows he should probably eat more. It doesn't change the fact that right now it feels hopeless – like no matter what they do, what he does, it'll never be enough.
He feels Jason's arms close around him, his boyfriend murmuring words intended to be soothing and ease the tightness in his chest that is the product of both failure and his conscience. The scientist instead feels nauseous.
I'm The Flash.
The words are on his lips, ready to be said – wanting to be said. But he can't – not yet. It's too soon. He doesn't know how they'll be received. Doesn't know if this is even real. In their place, "I'm sorry" slips out. Barry feels the deep breath Jason draws in, hears the stuttered puffs as it's expelled. He knows his boyfriend doesn't understand; his response proves it.
"You were trying to help people," the younger man says quietly. "You don't have to apologize. It's why you do what you do."
I lied. The speedster flinches away from the thought, drawing a noisy breath. "I ruined our evening."
Jason rests his head against Barry's, trying to shift through the myriad responses that wrestle in his thoughts. Words of comfort aren't his thing, and he was looking forward to their date given he'd spent so much time away; his boyfriend was like a lifeline whenever he felt Gotham getting under his skin – the siren call of the pit trying to draw him back.
The silence stretches, and Jason still doesn't know what the "right" response is, but he has to say something, so he gives Batman the finger and goes with the truth. "I'm disappointed. I missed you, and I had more than a few ideas for what I wanted to do with you – and to you – tonight." He wills the over-the-top leer into his tone, forcing aside the judgment with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Barry can't help the way the corners of his lips tug upwards, even as remorse eats at his insides.
"But shit's gonna happen, and you're here now. So I'll call that a partial win and let you make the rest up to me later." Jason places a soft kiss in his boyfriend's hair and tightens his embrace, trying to take the sting out of his words.
I lied. I'm sorry. "Thank you," Barry replies, muffling his shame in the younger man's chest.
"You're welcome." Jason adds another kiss to the blond's neck. "Come on, what say we get some sleep – give your brain a chance to shut off for a bit." Because it's clear, even to someone as emotionally challenged as he is, that Barry is thinking way too much about this and being way to hard on himself.
I'm The Flash. I couldn't save them. The thought is there and gone like lightning, and with it comes the sinking realization that he's not going to be able to sleep – at least not without a nightmare or twelve. I'm sorry. I lied. "Just want to sit. Want to be with you. Please." The last word comes out a plea. The beating of Jason's heart under his ear gives him something to focus on besides the ache. He realizes he hasn't looked his boyfriend in the eye once during the entire conversation.
Above him, Barry hears a resigned sigh, and he feels himself being shifted as Jason makes himself comfortable on the sofa. An indeterminable amount of time later, as he's starting to drift off, Jason's hand carding gently through his hair, the older man hears his boyfriend speak.
"You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, when things happen – even bad things. I'm from Gotham, I've seen...stuff. There's not much that's going to scare me. I may not know what to say, but whatever you want to tell me, I'll listen."
I'm The Flash.
Jason's words sound so sincere, and Barry can only hold his boyfriend tighter and nod, hoping one day soon he really can.