Chapter Text
The bell over the door tinkles as Barry enters the shop, luxuriating in the feel of the air conditioning on his overheated skin – comes to standstill, tips his head back, and practically moans in relief as he savors the icy blast.
For the last two weeks, Central City has been stuck in a heat wave (no relation to the eponymous villain, that would have been too easy), and he's been out on the streets working for most of it. Crime has been spiking, the heat driving everyone more than a little nuts.
Except the Rogues , he thinks, who have been suspiciously absent. Not that I'm complaining.
Between stopping normal criminals before they commit crimes as The Flash and trying to track them down after the fact as part of CCPD, Barry has more than enough on his plate without Snart and his crew.
Although I'm not going to lie, taking a hit from a cold gun right now might be a blessing in disguise.
The thought actually makes him shiver...pleasantly.
"Welcome to 'In Good Company,'" a friendly voice calls out. "Is there anything I can help you find today?"
Following the sound of the voice to his left, the scientist sees a young girl, probably in her mid-teens, leaning over the worn wooden countertop that serves as the cashier's desk. A colorful jumble of friendship bracelets are tied around her slim wrists, and her equally colorful hair has been woven into a thick braid that snakes around her shoulder and hangs several inches in front of her chest. She's shooting him a smile that's so earnest he can't help but return it in equal measure. "Good...." Barry quickly checks his watch, realizing he has no idea what time it is; pulling three double shifts in just over a week will do that. "...Morning. I'm looking for Jason. Is he around?"
"You mean Mr. Peters? He should be in the back. Let me give him a call."
"It's okay, Erin, I got it," a man's voice calls over the stacks. Slow footsteps come down the aisle, and then a mop of unruly black hair pokes around the corner. "I thought I heard a familiar someone." The rest of the Jason's body follows, the muscles in his arms bulging -- well, more than usual -- as he hefts a large box overflowing with books. With a grunt, he settles the load on top of three other more-neatly-packed boxes, brushes his hands off, and turns to face his boyfriend. "Well, this is a surprise."
It is, indeed , Barry thinks, taking in the way beads of moisture outline Jason's features, how his t-shirt, damp from physical exertion, clings to his torso, the tight tug of his jeans over his legs outlining his thighs.... A laugh pulls him out of his reverie.
"Eyes are up here, babe," the younger man says with a sly grin.
The blond offers a sheepish smile and shrugs. "Sorry, I just...." Have an incredibly beautiful boyfriend, he finishes silently. God, he is so bad with words.
"S'alright, good to know you still like what you see. I can't be put together all the time." Jason closes the space between them and takes Barry's face in his hands, tilting it up for a kiss. It's just a quick press of lips, they have an audience after all, but after the days Barry's had, he practically melts into it, wrapping his arms tightly around Jason.
"Hello, Mr. Peters," Barry murmurs, dropping his head on his boyfriend's shoulder with a long exhale as some of the tension bleeds from his muscles. He misses Jason's answering eye roll.
"Only to people too young to vote or buy booze; makes me feel old."
Barry just hums happily.
"You realize I'm completely nasty right now, right?" Jason says, hesitantly returning the embrace.
"Don't care. Missed you." Between Jason spending several days in Gotham on another "business trip," and the rising crime rate keeping both Barry and The Flash busy, it's been a while since they've physically been together. Barry was supposed to wait until tonight and meet his boyfriend upstairs at his flat (the man had just returned late the previous night), but he'd finished up early and found he couldn't wait. He smiles as he feels Jason's lips on the top of his head.
Whrr-click.
The strange, mechanical sound comes from Barry's left, followed closely by a giggle and an alert from Jason's phone.
" Hmm? "
"Don't worry," Jason says exasperatedly, "that's just the sound of Erin getting herself fired."
Barry turns his head toward the counter in time to see said girl sticking her tongue out at her boss. The scientist is taken aback, but the younger man just snorts and shakes his head. "Get those up on the website for me, please," Jason says gesturing to the boxes of books. "The schools just published their summer reading lists, and we'll have people asking for them."
"Will do, Mr. P." The girl sketches a sloppy salute before grabbing a laptop and a camera and settling down in front of the stack of boxes.
"Come on, let's get something to drink." Inclining his head towards the cafe that occupies a sectioned-off area of the front of the store, Jason takes his boyfriend's hand and leads him over to a table.
"Are all your employees so irreverent?"
"Ha!" the raven-haired man barks dryly. "I keep her around because, unlike most people her age, Erin can actually spell words like that." With a grin at Barry's pained look, Jason fishes out his phone, unlocks it, taps on the screen, and hands it to the other man. "Besides, that's what she was doing, so I figure she gets a pass."
The blond takes the device, a blush dusting his cheeks as he sees the picture of him and Jason embracing. Huffing a laugh, he passes the phone back and settles in the chair the younger man pulls out from the table.
"What can I get you?"
Studying the drinks board with grave intent, Barry finally says, "Small coffee." At his boyfriend's raised eyebrows he adds, "If I don't have something I'm going to crash."
Having politely failed to comment on the dark circles under Barry's eyes, the younger man replies, "Some sleep might do you good. You can nap upstairs until I'm done here."
It's a logical suggestion, and a better idea than wearing a hole in the floor from nervously bouncing his leg at super speed. Besides, it's obvious his boyfriend still has plenty of work to do. "Fine," the scientist says, drawing out the syllables tiredly. "Lemonade." As Jason makes his way over to the barista, Barry rests his head on the table feeling every last one of the last eighty hours. From petty theft to armed robbery, assault and battery to murder, it's been almost non-stop. At this rate, it'll take several weeks to clear the evidence backlog. The only reason he's not at the lab is because even Singh had to admit there was a finite amount of space for people to stand; at this point having a desk is optional.
"Here you go, babe." Jason sets the cup down, and then there's the scrape of wood on ceramic tile as the man takes his own seat.
Barry's head vibrates with the muffled thump of Jason's mug hitting the table top as his eyes sluggishly settle on the sweating cup by his head. The straw is bent downwards, but not enough that he reach it without moving. Suddenly he's not sure it's worth the effort.
"You sure you don't just want to go to sleep?"
Barry blearily looks in his boyfriend's direction and finds Jason's expression caught between fondness and concern. It's (another) good idea, but he also knows that part of his exhaustion is due to low blood sugar; the lemonade will help, as will the specially formulated power bar in his pocket. "I'm good." Lifting his head as if it was made of lead and scrubbing a hand over his face, he takes a sip of the drink as he wrestles the smashed power bar out of his jeans and carefully opens the wrapper. Bracing himself for the taste of sweet coconut-flavored cardboard, he takes a bite and tries not to gag; there are clear downsides to having an off-the-charts metabolism. He manages two more bites before he has to down half his drink in an attempt to dislodge the gooey paste in his throat.
Reaching out to take Barry's hand, Jason threads their fingers together and presses a kiss to the older man's knuckles. "When was the last time you ate real food?"
The scientist thinks for a minute, but he honestly can't remember, so he just shrugs limply.
"I know you said on the phone it was bad, but...."
"It's worse," Barry interjects, bone-deep weariness dragging at his words. "It's like everyone has just decided to give in to their inner crazy -- smash windows, steal whatever they can grab, vandalize what they can't take with them. What I wouldn't give for the Rogues," he moans, realizing he does, in fact, miss his own merry bunch of colorful, costumed wackos. At Jason's questioning glance, it dawns on him how odd that sounds and he hastens to add, "I...I mean we...as in CCPD...know the Rogues' M.O. Robbery is their thing, sometimes with stuff going boom or getting busted, but they seem almost tame compared to some of nut jobs we're dealing with. And the Rogues don't kill; the murder rate is through the roof."
"It wasn't me," Jason says off-handedly, lifting his mug. He freezes midway to his lips as he realizes what he just said; a glance across the table finds Barry looking at him strangely as he sips his own drink. "Sorry...uh...Gotham street humor," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly tries to think of something believable and not stupid to explain his flub. "Kind of what you say to cops where I'm from. 'Wasn't me.'" He laughs weakly, internally kicking himself hard, because what the ever loving fuck was that? His boyfriend nods slowly and Jason sighs and tries to enjoy his tea.
They both drink in silence for a few minutes before Barry's pants start to chirp. Jason honestly thinks the man might have given himself a concussion as hard as his head hits the table.
"Fuck."
The groan is several seconds long, and the younger man struggles to suppress a totally inappropriate chuckle.
"Work?"
No, it's the damn Justice League. Barry just groans again . It's marginally better than lying.
"You can always ignore it and tell them you were sleeping."
Jason is officially the best boyfriend ever. "You're the best boyfriend ever," Barry says, wincing as he picks his head back up off the table.
"You do need to sleep. You're going to hurt yourself." The concern in Jason's voice is tangible.
The chirping continues, and the scientist slaps angrily at his pocket until the sound stops. For a second he just rubs his temples. "I'm sorry," he finally says, "I need to go." He shoves his chair back, needing a moment to steady himself once he's on his feet. As he finishes the rest of his lemonade and mentally counts the number of power bars he has up on the Watchtower, he feels Jason's arms curl around him as the other man stands and comes around the table.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jason whispers into his ear. Against his chest, he feels Barry shake his head "no," the blond's eyes already drooping shut.
In the silence that follows, Jason thinks he's fallen asleep until he hears his boyfriend say, "Someone needs me." Finding enough energy, Barry pulls back and presses a chaste kiss to Jason's lips. "I'll be back tonight, I promise. Although I'll probably be a crap date. I'm sorry," he finishes, shoulders slumping. He knows this totally isn't fair to Jason.
"It's alright," the younger man says gently. "I'll make something light, we'll eat, we'll cuddle, fall asleep, and then I'll keep you in bed all day tomorrow."
"Best boyfriend ever," Barry repeats. With another kiss, he's heading for the door, pausing to offer what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Jason's frown doesn't ease. Feeling his stomach twist, Barry says, "I'll see you tonight," and then he's gone.
Moments later, once he's around the corner and out of view, The Flash keys his League transponder and disappears in a glow of soft white light.