[ Throughout the night morning, Barry sleeps without much movement to be had. He hadn't been joking when he had said that Bruce had tired him out. It's been a hot minute since he's been so exhausted like that that he just wants to pass out β that he does go and pass out within a matter of seconds. But with how much physical activity they had gotten up to over the course of however many hours it had been and the only meal he had had being the denny's diner food and milkshake from earlier on in the night as fuel for his hyper metabolism... suffice to say, he'd run out of that fuel and needed to replenish it with sleep.
So, he had gone out like a light, not even feeling when Bruce had slipped away from him.
When he does come to wake, it's in a tangle of those sheets that feel so cool against his bare legs, covered just so slightly with them with a blanket tucked around him. He's curled into the center of the bed a little, his brain taking a couple seconds to reboot it all up before he's lazily blinking his eyes open... and jolts up in bed with a start. ]
Oh my godβ what day is it?
[ Frantic, he looks around to find that he's not in his own bed and for half a second, he's wondering just where the hell he is before it all catches up to him. Bruce. He's at Bruce's. In his bed. Last night. Right. Fingers carding through the mess that is his hair, he dives across the bed for his phone, knocking the little note off as he checks the date and time there on the lock screen and... he's not working. It's a weekend. Day off. Crisis averted.
The sigh he gives is a heavy one of relief and he faceplants into the mattress. It's only after a moment that he peeks over the edge of the bed and sees the note he'd knocked off, fingers plucking it from the floor. Pressing it open with two of his fingers, he smiles a bit when he sees what's scribbled there and, again, sighs, rolling over onto his back with a lazy little groan as he does.
It's just a little after Bruce has come back from his wandering that Barry makes his presence known in the kitchen via tired little groans and feet shuffling away. He's wrapped up in the robe that had been taken off him... in the morning... and rubbing at his eye with the heel of a palm when he catches sight of Bruce. The smile he gives the man is sweet and lazy and he makes his way over for the first chair he sees to which he dramatically drapes himself over it, head resting there on his arm. ]
Hi. [ He murmurs, smiling despite his half upside-down look he's got going on. ] Afternoon? Definitely not good morning.
It's morning for me, [ he says, as he puts a large carton of eggs into the fridge. ] So good morning.
[ Seeing Barry like this, all muddled from sleep, wearing one of his robes, wandering around comfortablyβ pulls at something in him. They don't know what they're doing, and the only thing they've talked about is I don't want to forget, but Bruce can feel something dig in beneath the cage of his ribs anyway.
Maybe it's a metahuman superpower that the younger man has. ]
Coffee, or a breakfast sandwich? [ a beat, as he pulls something out of the large catering bag. ] I think that's what these are, anyway. Might be a burrito in there too.
[ There's expansive fodder for French toast or sandwiches or various egg creations; The Brunch Special from a service he uses, for about a dozen people. Some prepared items, but most of it they'll have to put together themselves. ]
[ Stretching himself out against that chair, he puffs out a sigh from round bulging cheeks before he comes to straighten himself up some, finger scratching at his nose as he does. ]
Coffee would probably have me vibrating through the floor, so... breakfast sandwich? What do you have in there?
[ Bare feet pad across the cool flooring as he makes his way over to Bruce, heavily leaning himself against the other man, cheek pressed to his arm. Peering in, his eyes light up when he sees the various assortment of food in the bag and he huffs a laugh as he reaches in to poke around a little, see what's really all in there. ]
Holy moly. This is like... a buffet to-go.
[ Just saying.
Taking one of the prepared items out of its packaging, he just goes and helps himself to it and hums in a pleased little way that just might sound familiar from hours ago. Straightening up, he looks down to the food as he chews a little thoughtfully before helping himself to another bite. ]
Oh my god, this tastes so good. I love food so much.
[ Bruce runs a hand up his back when Barry comes over and leans on him, enjoying the casual contact. He really is very cute. What'll happen when this life wears him down? Mm. Bruce curls his fingers against his side, brief, a small affectionate thing before he moves away to let him eat, and maybe get some distance from food sex noises before he ends up pushing him against the counter. ]
I didn't want you to waste away, [ he says, a smile tucked into his voice. ] Since all I actually had was protein shake stuff.
[ Tupperware full of pre-chopped vegetables, supplement powders, oat milk. The horror. After diner food and half a milkshake, Bruce is pretty sure he'll die unless he limits himself. ]
Unless you'd like one. [ :)? He holds up one said tupperware container, which jingles dully, full of dark green superfoods. Mmmm, kale. ]
[ Mouth full of something that isn't cock, Barry glances over when Bruce offers to fix him up a protein shake and gives a shake of his head, hand waving, a muffled laugh given with all that food in his mouth. ]
Bo danks.
[ Pausing, he actually takes a couple seconds there to swallow before he tries again. ]
Uh, I'm good. Thanks.
[ Huffing a laugh, he smiles to Bruce as he holds up his sandwich before he grabs a couple more from the catering bag and takes them with him over to that chair he had draped himself over earlier. The sound of foil and paper can be heard unwrapping as he goes about freeing the breakfast foods from their coverings, Barry finishing off the one in hand before he goes about starting on a second one, third one ready in his other hand. He really is a snackhole with the way he just attacks the sandwiches and wraps without even seeming to skip a beat in doing so.
Making sure he swallows again first, he looks up to Bruce then, eyes a little bright and curious as he does. ]
Um, so... what are your plans for the day? I mean... it's the weekend, right? You don't go into the office or something, right?
[ The smells of fancy brunch are quite alluring, but Bruce resists; dumping everything into a Vitamix and eyeballing the non-dairy milk. ]
Fortunately, I can pretty much do what I want, when it comes to my dayjob. Plug your ears. [ Vroom vroom goes the blender. It's somewhat earsplitting in contrast to the quiet lake house atmosphere, but doesn't last long, turning into a sickly green goop, which Bruce then proceeds to slime out into a large cup. ]
But I don't have any plans, no. Do you?
[ He drinks some of the smoothie, and then immediately swaps it for a long drink of black coffee, before moving back. No real pleasure in food happening for him, but at least he knows he won't puke or have some kind of blood sugar incident later. His measly human body has to be kept at a certain level of performance or being Batman is a lot less fun.
The catering bag is empty now, everything put away or snagged by Barry, so he sets it on the floor against the windows, and goes to sit by the speedster. Everything in here is ultra-modern and overly expensive, but at least it's all comfortable, despite the minimal design.
(Just don't... look at the only extant decor, a heavy black Italian urn floating on a display stand near the desk by the door. Like, Bruce, why is everything a dead person.) ]
[ When Bruce comes to sit near him, Barry licks over his lips and offers the man a smile, second sandwich done and now moving onto his wrap. ]
Uh, no. It's the weekend and I have those off with my job, so. [ A small shrug of his shoulders, he takes another bite, chewing for a moment before he looks over to Bruce. ] Good thing last night wasn't Sunday, you know?
[ Or else he'd definitely be zipping out of here and heading back to Central City in a flash.
There's a sort of silence that falls over them as they sit there, Barry focused on cramming as much food into his mouth as he can to refuel himself from their strenuous physical activities last night. If they end up doing this again, he almost thinks to maybe ask for a catering bag like this to be purchased in advance so that he has something he can quickly snack on when he's finally feeling depleted in energy.
Of course, that just brings him to those thoughts of... what now what with the afternoon having come and all.
Bruce had said he didn't want to forget and Barry had said the same. He meant it then in the shower and he means it now, right here in the kitchen with the other man near him, but. Does he bring that up? Do they just agree that yeah, they fucked a few times in one night, and just leave it at that? Not entirely forgetting or denying such a thing happened, but not indulging in anything beyond those handful of hours? He doesn't know β doesn't know what Bruce wants and it has him sitting there a little deep in thought for a moment before he finishes off the wrap he'd been holding and looks around for some napkins to wipe his hands on. ]
Um, so... were you just planning to... hang around here or something? Like chill or whatever?
[ Bruce and chill... he's hilarious without even trying to be. ]
[ There are black fabric napkins discreetly sitting on the coffee table, which Bruce hands over. In a very chill way. Check out how chill he is. He buys himself some time by chugging his smoothie, in the interests of getting rid of it so that he can enjoy his scalding caffeine.
What the fuck to say. Probably not mustering up an offer to fuck again; despite having no speed force metabolism, Bruce is a highly sexually motivated person, and when the opportunity arises it's hard to make that voice shut up. But no, that's a little weird. And so is saying something terminally awkward like 'well, you said you hadn't done that before, so I didn't want to leave you alone because it can make a person feel vulnerable', because oh my god.
He finishes his superfood smush, holds the cup between long fingers, considers the younger man.
Finally, ]
I don't know.
[ welp ]
I haven't stayed until after for.. years, now, I think the last person I spent any real time with was the woman I almost married. [ He moves the empty cup around, implying a shrug. Sucks to suck, Bruce. ] I didn't want to leave you alone, and I didn't feel like being alone. I don't have any ideas past that.
[ At the quiet admission and confession, Barry gently lets his gaze drift over to Bruce from his seat there at the counter. He's glad that the other man hadn't just dipped out β which, ok. He lives here, sure. But that doesn't mean he couldn't have left a note saying he needed to go out, something something signatures needed, forgot stuff at some place I own, etc. He could easily make up any excuse to slip out and tell Barry he was free to shower and eat whatever before heading back to Central City... but he hadn't and the younger man appreciates that for a number of reasons.
It's just now, like Bruce admits, he's not all that sure what to do with this moment here between them after it all. It's one he knew was going to come, even from the moment they first kissed on that couch. He knew "tomorrow would come" and they'd have to deal with however they felt after it all, just... it sort of sucks? To not know or to feel as if you're tip-toeing around it, unsure if something might rock the boat in a way that could make things awkward.
But they both don't want to forget. He remembers that so clearly.
After a moment and another glance given to the man out of the corner of his eye, he gently reaches out to touch his wrist and with a bit of a tug to it, as if to get his attention, he pulls Bruce over as he himself leans in and he kisses the man. Soft. Sweet. A little more slow than how his kisses might have been last night. Fingers curling some around that wrist, he lets lips slip away from Bruce's, lingering close as he huffs a quiet laugh. ]
That... wasn't a suggestion for an idea. [ A beat. ] Un..less you want it to be? I just wanted to kiss you.
[ And remind him that he's here. He's not alone. ]
[ Bruce observes him closely, no longer trying very hard to filter how strangely intense he can seem. Barry's seen behind the curtain in a number of ways. And so when he allows himself to be pulled in, and follows it, returns that gentle kiss, he does it very seriously, because that's how he does just about everything. Wanting to say the right thing and, failing that, wanting to offer the honest thing.
Which is: man idk
Bruce squeezes his hand. ]
Can I ask you something, [ he ventures, expression grave. Slightly drawn.
[ There's a sort of gentle relief when Bruce returns that kiss β when he squeezes his hand. The kind that makes him feel like this is ok. That seeking out a kiss in the here and now β today β when it had been so uncertain if he could or should some hours ago is not met with a harsh or confused rebuff. That has him feeling light...
...until Bruce goes and asks that.
Brown eyes blink and his mind quickly zips through a handful of ways he might have messed this up or read too much into something before he's smiling a little sheepishly and nods, biting on the inside of his cheek. ]
Since you did what you did, [ he begins, and then immediately corrects to not be so uselessly vague: ] Since you pushed time back to save us from Darkseid. Have you been alright? Really.
[ He should have asked when Barry told him, but it had thrown Bruce, pushing him into his own issues with his dreams. Trying to puzzle out the mystery of having had that vision of Barry Allen before ever meeting him or seeing him on a liquor store security camera. Now that he's had a moment - granted, a long one - he realizes the error of not taking time to really unpack it as a thing a person has experienced, and not a phenomenon that should be scientifically observed.
Because it sounds like it could easily be traumatic, and miserable, and Barry's shouldered it in total silence. Bruce knows what that's like, and it kinda blows. ]
[ That's... not what he's expecting to be asked and he's not sure if he's relieved? On the one hand, at least it's not something about them. On the other, it's not that great a thing to talk about really, so. Yeah.
For a moment, he stares to the other man, almost as if wanting to make sure he heard him right before he licks over his lips and tilts his head, gaze drifting off. He's quiet, almost as if mulling over how to answer that before he smiles and shrugs, looking back to Bruce then. ]
Yeah. Of course. I mean β it was my fault. I got shot and didn't heal fast enough to get to Victor in time β which is funny when I'm as fast as I am. [ Yet there's no humor in his tone. ] But I fixed it, so. Everything's fine.
[ Fingers drum against the counter as she smiles to Bruce and slowly lets his gaze drift off again. Survivor's guilt even when not technically being the only survivor because you reversed time to fix it Is A Thing, who knew. But not wanting to dwell on that, he tilts his head again, licking over his lips. ]
It's... given me a lot to think about? That if I can reverse time and fix one point in time... maybe I can fix other things too.
[ Like go back far enough to save his mother from her murder. ]
[ If Bruce had Barry's ability, he isn't sure that he'd have been able to keep himself from trying, by now. If not for his parents*, then for his son. A thing too big for any one person to have, the knowledge of it a constant presence - akin to how Clark feels, he wonders? And yet what Barry can do is beyond that.
His mind hooks onto something else, though, and Bruce sets his coffee aside to lean in, making sure that he gets Barry's eyes. ]
If you want to assign a fault, then it's mine. I didn't get enough parademons away from you, I brought you into this, I didn't stop Luthor in time to prevent him from communicating with worlds beyond ours.
[ Also, he tried to kill Superman. But he's gone ten rounds with blame already with that, against Clark, and he's not willing to tie an anchor to Barry's foot with that one. It sucks, it's miserable, but it's between them; if he hadn't done it, there wouldn't have been a weapon to kill Doomsday, and then where would they be? An awful paradox which he loathes, but things are what they are. ]
Thank you for saving us, Barry. None of that worked without you. We all had a part in it and none of us were perfect. And what you did was incredible. Not just that you have the ability, but you had the nerve for it.
( * like maybe he already had zombie mom and dad back during that weird time in the 80s when he was still a kid and the murders were very fresh and a magic wish brought his parents back to life then a glowing godlike voice from a tv told him he was a selfish monster about it and now he's too traumatized to try again WONDER WOMAN 84 YOU WERE A HELL OF A FILM )
[ Does he really want to go against Bruce Wayne of all people when it comes to The Blame Game about all of this? Not really. Somehow, he feels like Bruce would get the last punch in there every time, no matter the amount of protest Barry might give.
So, instead, he looks to the man who stays so close to him and he offers him a soft smile. ]
I didn't know what would happen. Going back towards the speed of light β faster than the speed of light, but. [ But he had pushed himself to do it. Had gone the fastest he's ever gone thus far and that was for only a handful of seconds. ] I had to try. I just... sort of hoped it would work. I saw the potential for it when we brought back Clark. I pulled back a couple seconds then.
[ Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he stares off ahead, wondering if he should say anything about an idea β a possible obsession it could spiral into. ]
I want to see how far back I can go. How much time I can reverse. If I can go back far enough... I can save my mom β my dad doesn't have to go to jail for something he didn't do, I just... need to figure out how. How much faster I need to go.
[ And then proceed to break time in the process. ]
[ Save my mom, he says, and Bruce feels for a moment like he's caught in a trap. It's a painful one, quick and sharp, like a fish hook in his ribs; the instinct to say that's dangerous, don't meddle with things you don't understand, you don't know what could happen, but it's cut directly against immediate and visceral empathy.
He keeps hold of Barry's hand, and brings his other to the younger man's face, stroking over his cheekbone and holding him there, taking a moment. Just not wanting him to feel too out to see while he's quiet.
Eventually, he says, ]
If you got lost I would miss you very much.
[ But he understands why Barry wants to try.
It's not fair that Clark got to come back and not anyone else. ]
[ How can he not think of trying to pull off such a thing? Maybe it's a little cocky of him to think he can β maybe he's letting what he can do and what he's capable of get to his head and inflate his ego for once. He'd run back towards the speed of light and went faster then it. So fast that he'd been able to rewind time itself and give his teammates β give this man right here a second chance at something that went horribly wrong. How can he not want to give his dad β give his mom a second chance at something that went so incredibly horribly wrong?
When Bruce comes to cradle his hand against his face, however, he pulls himself from his thoughts and the what ifs zipping around in his head and his gaze softens at what Bruce says... how earnest and soft he seems in saying what he does.
It tugs at Barry in a way that makes him pause for a couple of seconds. It's... a possibility. One he's been chewing on since everything happened. The thought of getting "lost in time" is not anything he hasn't considered. He just... doesn't know how accurate it is, especially with his being so fast.
He smiles, ] Lost in time and unable to find the present. Yeah. Can't say the theory's not possible. [ Licking over his lips, he nods, slow. A tilt of his head into that hand, he lets his gaze warmly settle on the other man, words soft but so earnest. ]
Barry, tired and haggard, reaching out to him in that strange armor. He doesn't want to see the younger man like that again, not awake, not while dreaming. He doesn't want him to end up there, or start seeing the sort of shit that Bruce sees. ]
If at all possible, [ he says quietly, ] be very careful with yourself, and perform only miracles.
[ Not disasters. He wants to believe Barry would come back - of course he believes he'd want to - but they don't get everything they want. They don't get parents or happily ever afters or lives that don't involve having to avert various apocalypses. The good things are moments like this.
But what does Bruce know? He's one more psychotic break away from being unreachable. He has no superhuman abilities. Maybe Barry can fix anything he wants, rewrite everything, for anyone. ]
Did you get enough to eat?
[ Is that. Is that an awkward shift. He's just thinking of it, is all. Thinking of a hundred things at the same time. There are a lot of eggs, just in case. ]
Miracles is definitely a way to look at what Barry is capable of doing with his reversing time β that in itself is a miracle of miracles and the closest thing to time travel that they have. You know, until he's able to figure out exactly how to do that in a more concrete and lasting way, punching through time itself back years upon years; much like he'd been able to figure out and do in the future it seems... one possible future.
Regardless, Bruce goes and switches the topic from potential doom and gloom to hearty breakfast choices and Barry lets him, wanting to enjoy this good moment here between them while he still can; talking about dead family members is such a bummer, you know? ]
Food-wise? I'm good here.
[ To which he holds up a wrap or sandwich or WHATEVER it is he's taken for himself and left there on the counter with the other things Bruce ordered. ]
But my hunger for the flesh has yet to be satisfied.
[ There's a waggling of his eyebrows, a sultry little drawl in his speech, and he walks his fingers up Bruce's arm a little playfully all while he leans in and griiiins to the other man.
You know, before he huffs a laugh and pulls back, waving a hand. ]
Yes. I'm getting enough to eat. Thank you, oh handsome man of thy manor.
[ Stuffing that wrap in his mouth, he looks over to Bruce with a smile around his food and wiggles a bit there in his seat. Energy coming back? Energy coming back. A snackhole speedster being refueled right before Bruce's eyes. ]
[ Pushing the topic around means that Bruce gets more silent time in the inside of his brain to agonize over the seriousness of resetting decades-long events, without actually having to talk about it. The look on his face, eyebrows slightly knit still, might give him away; or he might just appear as he normally does, over-serious about everything and bad at making light of anything. (There are reasons why Alfred had thought he'd lost his mind again - just on the opposite of the scale - when he was optimistic about Superman's return.)
Such a rewind could change much more than just the fate of Barry's parents. He could miss the incident that gave him his speed entirely. Would someone else be in his place at the battle against Steppenwolf? Someone without the nerve to do what he did? Would they have accepted Bruce's call to action?
Or maybe there's just no one, and they'll be dead.
He can't say that to Barry. Can he? No. Not right now, at least. Maybe not ever. Barry deserves to have that hope, and he probably even deserves to try to do it. He deserves to be at home with his parents and not out risking his life to save the world. That's what Bruce has always fought for: to keep people from experiencing what he experienced. He has no right to try and stop Barry from making it happen for himself.
Bruce is oddly unresponsive during Barry's flirtatious finger-walking, and only seems to come back to himself a beat too late, looking down and then back up. ]
Good, [ he says, evidently embarrassed to have been lost in thought. Still sort of holding onto him in places, he sits up. Woof. What a weirdo. ]
[ Or maybe Barry would be against them rather than with them. Who's to say.
Either way, the fact that Bruce's reaction seems to be rather delayed and distant almost has the speedster curiously look to him, mouth full of food. Telepathy isn't anything he has for a power but he can read expression and body language well enough to be able to see that something seems to be on the other man's mind and, in doing so, keeping him away from him up there in his head.
Food placed down, he turns a bit and slides those fingers up the other man's arm until they curl at his bicep and hold there. Gentle. ]
Hey. [ Word soft, much as his touch and gaze are on the man. ] I'm right here.
[ He's not sure if Bruce is lingering on the possibilities and consequences of his wanting to punch back through time as far as he can, but considering it had been what they'd just been talking about, it's a safe enough bet to place if he had to make one and so he seeks to reassure him. ]
[ Sometimes Bruce wonders if this is too much for him. These people and what they can do. He's just some nutcase who wanted to stop crime in one city, whose grief-induced psychotic break sent him tumbling into grappling with aliens, and the end of the world.
Maybe he just wishes it was too much. Contending with the fact that he's enough of a control freak to look at these problems ago 'sure' is a bit strange.
(He doesn't remember the time in between Barry's rewind. But if he did: seeing the end of it, the boxes coming together, and knowing what it meant. He didn't try to run, didn't attempt any kind of escape or launch another futile attack in a defiant move. Batman simply hopped down from the lip of the reactor to join them. Knowing it was death.)
Doomsday wool-gathering. Bruce looks at Barry and then sits forward, reaching out to him and coaxing him closer, over from the other chair and into his lap. He leans back in his seat to look at him. ]
I'm only thinking that it's unfair you have to consider things like this, [ Bruce tells him, not wanting Barry to think that Bruce lacks confidence in his judgement. ] And that I wish I had a better answer.
[ When coaxed, Barry leaves his chair for Bruce's lap, dropping himself down in a way that has him straddling the other man. His robe falls open at his chest, the belt hanging loosely around his waist, hands choosing to settle on either side of Bruce's neck while soft brown eyes curiously search the face of the man he finds himself becoming emotionally tangled in. Whether that's good or bad is something time still has yet to determine. ]
I have to try... [ He murmurs then, thumbs stroking over Bruce's neck he holds. ] ...I can't not.
[ He doesn't ask if Bruce would do the same because it seems unfair to almost guilt him into agreeing with him. Not that he doesn't, but. It's clear he has some reservations about it and sure, Barry can understand that. To an extent. But if the law wasn't going to help his father, then he'd have to do it himself. However he can and if that means running back further in time? Then that's what he'll do. Soon as he can figure it out.
In the meantime, he licks over his lips and sighs, gaze dropping while thumbs still stroke over Bruce's neck as he sits there, straddling his lap. ]
[ Maybe a little sexy. Barry in only one of his robes, Bruce fully dressed - albeit casually, for him. But he seems to not recognize it for now, instead looking at him. His expression is clear and open, no judgement or caution for that I have to try. Of course he does. Bruce means it, he just wishes Barry's mom hadn't met the fate she did, and that the younger man wasn't in the position - the proverbial one - that he's in.
For a lot of reasons, sure, like potentially erasing the entire world, but also, like, it sucks. It feels like shit. Bruce knows. His parents are dead (!) and he knows what his mother's brain matter looks like, as flecks of it ended up congealed to the end of his shoe when he was eight.
Life is unkind and he justβ
Whatever.
Barry says that, and Bruce smiles. Warm and real. ]
[ It's the way Bruce looks to him as he says those words that gets Barry's heart to practically skip a beat. Something something the guy he has a huge crush on and came for four times last night (this morning?) believes in him and possibly thinks he's marvelous in his own speedy metahuman ways... it has him smiling to the other man. Warm. Bright. Like sunshine stretched across the early morning sky. What a shame to think this world might eventually crush and tear apart someone with such a brightness to them despite the hardships they've carried with them.
At least, for now, it doesn't and he has this moment here with the other man.
Leaning in, he bumps his nose against Bruce's, breath soft with quiet laughter as he lets his eyes fall shut and just nuzzles him with so much affection for the other man... maybe he's already emotionally tangled up in him in ways he can't free himself from. But he doesn't seem to care. How can he when he feels... like this? ]
Thank you.
[ The words are a whisper against Bruce's lips and he doesn't exactly refer to what he is thanking him for. Believing in him, asking him to join his team, breakfast, fucking him hard and good, telling him of his possible future self visiting him... maybe it's all of the above, who's to say. Not Barry. Because rather than elaborate on that, he kisses Bruce. Warm but playfully feverish as he smiles into that kiss, arms crossing around him with a pleased little hum on his lips. ]
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nightmorning, Barry sleeps without much movement to be had. He hadn't been joking when he had said that Bruce had tired him out. It's been a hot minute since he's been so exhausted like that that he just wants to pass out β that he does go and pass out within a matter of seconds. But with how much physical activity they had gotten up to over the course of however many hours it had been and the only meal he had had being thedenny'sdiner food and milkshake from earlier on in the night as fuel for his hyper metabolism... suffice to say, he'd run out of that fuel and needed to replenish it with sleep.So, he had gone out like a light, not even feeling when Bruce had slipped away from him.
When he does come to wake, it's in a tangle of those sheets that feel so cool against his bare legs, covered just so slightly with them with a blanket tucked around him. He's curled into the center of the bed a little, his brain taking a couple seconds to reboot it all up before he's lazily blinking his eyes open... and jolts up in bed with a start. ]
Oh my godβ what day is it?
[ Frantic, he looks around to find that he's not in his own bed and for half a second, he's wondering just where the hell he is before it all catches up to him. Bruce. He's at Bruce's. In his bed. Last night. Right. Fingers carding through the mess that is his hair, he dives across the bed for his phone, knocking the little note off as he checks the date and time there on the lock screen and... he's not working. It's a weekend. Day off. Crisis averted.
The sigh he gives is a heavy one of relief and he faceplants into the mattress. It's only after a moment that he peeks over the edge of the bed and sees the note he'd knocked off, fingers plucking it from the floor. Pressing it open with two of his fingers, he smiles a bit when he sees what's scribbled there and, again, sighs, rolling over onto his back with a lazy little groan as he does.
It's just a little after Bruce has come back from his wandering that Barry makes his presence known in the kitchen via tired little groans and feet shuffling away. He's wrapped up in the robe that had been taken off him... in the morning... and rubbing at his eye with the heel of a palm when he catches sight of Bruce. The smile he gives the man is sweet and lazy and he makes his way over for the first chair he sees to which he dramatically drapes himself over it, head resting there on his arm. ]
Hi. [ He murmurs, smiling despite his half upside-down look he's got going on. ] Afternoon? Definitely not good morning.
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[ Seeing Barry like this, all muddled from sleep, wearing one of his robes, wandering around comfortablyβ pulls at something in him. They don't know what they're doing, and the only thing they've talked about is I don't want to forget, but Bruce can feel something dig in beneath the cage of his ribs anyway.
Maybe it's a metahuman superpower that the younger man has. ]
Coffee, or a breakfast sandwich? [ a beat, as he pulls something out of the large catering bag. ] I think that's what these are, anyway. Might be a burrito in there too.
[ There's expansive fodder for French toast or sandwiches or various egg creations; The Brunch Special from a service he uses, for about a dozen people. Some prepared items, but most of it they'll have to put together themselves. ]
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Coffee would probably have me vibrating through the floor, so... breakfast sandwich? What do you have in there?
[ Bare feet pad across the cool flooring as he makes his way over to Bruce, heavily leaning himself against the other man, cheek pressed to his arm. Peering in, his eyes light up when he sees the various assortment of food in the bag and he huffs a laugh as he reaches in to poke around a little, see what's really all in there. ]
Holy moly. This is like... a buffet to-go.
[ Just saying.
Taking one of the prepared items out of its packaging, he just goes and helps himself to it and hums in a pleased little way that just might sound familiar from hours ago. Straightening up, he looks down to the food as he chews a little thoughtfully before helping himself to another bite. ]
Oh my god, this tastes so good. I love food so much.
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I didn't want you to waste away, [ he says, a smile tucked into his voice. ] Since all I actually had was protein shake stuff.
[ Tupperware full of pre-chopped vegetables, supplement powders, oat milk. The horror. After diner food and half a milkshake, Bruce is pretty sure he'll die unless he limits himself. ]
Unless you'd like one. [ :)? He holds up one said tupperware container, which jingles dully, full of dark green superfoods. Mmmm, kale. ]
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Bo danks.
[ Pausing, he actually takes a couple seconds there to swallow before he tries again. ]
Uh, I'm good. Thanks.
[ Huffing a laugh, he smiles to Bruce as he holds up his sandwich before he grabs a couple more from the catering bag and takes them with him over to that chair he had draped himself over earlier. The sound of foil and paper can be heard unwrapping as he goes about freeing the breakfast foods from their coverings, Barry finishing off the one in hand before he goes about starting on a second one, third one ready in his other hand. He really is a snackhole with the way he just attacks the sandwiches and wraps without even seeming to skip a beat in doing so.
Making sure he swallows again first, he looks up to Bruce then, eyes a little bright and curious as he does. ]
Um, so... what are your plans for the day? I mean... it's the weekend, right? You don't go into the office or something, right?
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Fortunately, I can pretty much do what I want, when it comes to my dayjob. Plug your ears. [ Vroom vroom goes the blender. It's somewhat earsplitting in contrast to the quiet lake house atmosphere, but doesn't last long, turning into a sickly green goop, which Bruce then proceeds to slime out into a large cup. ]
But I don't have any plans, no. Do you?
[ He drinks some of the smoothie, and then immediately swaps it for a long drink of black coffee, before moving back. No real pleasure in food happening for him, but at least he knows he won't puke or have some kind of blood sugar incident later. His measly human body has to be kept at a certain level of performance or being Batman is a lot less fun.
The catering bag is empty now, everything put away or snagged by Barry, so he sets it on the floor against the windows, and goes to sit by the speedster. Everything in here is ultra-modern and overly expensive, but at least it's all comfortable, despite the minimal design.
(Just don't... look at the only extant decor, a heavy black Italian urn floating on a display stand near the desk by the door. Like, Bruce, why is everything a dead person.) ]
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Uh, no. It's the weekend and I have those off with my job, so. [ A small shrug of his shoulders, he takes another bite, chewing for a moment before he looks over to Bruce. ] Good thing last night wasn't Sunday, you know?
[ Or else he'd definitely be zipping out of here and heading back to Central City in a flash.
There's a sort of silence that falls over them as they sit there, Barry focused on cramming as much food into his mouth as he can to refuel himself from their strenuous physical activities last night. If they end up doing this again, he almost thinks to maybe ask for a catering bag like this to be purchased in advance so that he has something he can quickly snack on when he's finally feeling depleted in energy.
Of course, that just brings him to those thoughts of... what now what with the afternoon having come and all.
Bruce had said he didn't want to forget and Barry had said the same. He meant it then in the shower and he means it now, right here in the kitchen with the other man near him, but. Does he bring that up? Do they just agree that yeah, they fucked a few times in one night, and just leave it at that? Not entirely forgetting or denying such a thing happened, but not indulging in anything beyond those handful of hours? He doesn't know β doesn't know what Bruce wants and it has him sitting there a little deep in thought for a moment before he finishes off the wrap he'd been holding and looks around for some napkins to wipe his hands on. ]
Um, so... were you just planning to... hang around here or something? Like chill or whatever?
[ Bruce and chill... he's hilarious without even trying to be. ]
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What the fuck to say. Probably not mustering up an offer to fuck again; despite having no speed force metabolism, Bruce is a highly sexually motivated person, and when the opportunity arises it's hard to make that voice shut up. But no, that's a little weird. And so is saying something terminally awkward like 'well, you said you hadn't done that before, so I didn't want to leave you alone because it can make a person feel vulnerable', because oh my god.
He finishes his superfood smush, holds the cup between long fingers, considers the younger man.
Finally, ]
I don't know.
[ welp ]
I haven't stayed until after for.. years, now, I think the last person I spent any real time with was the woman I almost married. [ He moves the empty cup around, implying a shrug. Sucks to suck, Bruce. ] I didn't want to leave you alone, and I didn't feel like being alone. I don't have any ideas past that.
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It's just now, like Bruce admits, he's not all that sure what to do with this moment here between them after it all. It's one he knew was going to come, even from the moment they first kissed on that couch. He knew "tomorrow would come" and they'd have to deal with however they felt after it all, just... it sort of sucks? To not know or to feel as if you're tip-toeing around it, unsure if something might rock the boat in a way that could make things awkward.
But they both don't want to forget. He remembers that so clearly.
After a moment and another glance given to the man out of the corner of his eye, he gently reaches out to touch his wrist and with a bit of a tug to it, as if to get his attention, he pulls Bruce over as he himself leans in and he kisses the man. Soft. Sweet. A little more slow than how his kisses might have been last night. Fingers curling some around that wrist, he lets lips slip away from Bruce's, lingering close as he huffs a quiet laugh. ]
That... wasn't a suggestion for an idea. [ A beat. ] Un..less you want it to be? I just wanted to kiss you.
[ And remind him that he's here. He's not alone. ]
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Which is: man idk
Bruce squeezes his hand. ]
Can I ask you something, [ he ventures, expression grave. Slightly drawn.
VERY CHILL, STILL, this is chill. ]
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...until Bruce goes and asks that.
Brown eyes blink and his mind quickly zips through a handful of ways he might have messed this up or read too much into something before he's smiling a little sheepishly and nods, biting on the inside of his cheek. ]
Y-yeah. Of course you can.
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[ He should have asked when Barry told him, but it had thrown Bruce, pushing him into his own issues with his dreams. Trying to puzzle out the mystery of having had that vision of Barry Allen before ever meeting him or seeing him on a liquor store security camera. Now that he's had a moment - granted, a long one - he realizes the error of not taking time to really unpack it as a thing a person has experienced, and not a phenomenon that should be scientifically observed.
Because it sounds like it could easily be traumatic, and miserable, and Barry's shouldered it in total silence. Bruce knows what that's like, and it kinda blows. ]
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For a moment, he stares to the other man, almost as if wanting to make sure he heard him right before he licks over his lips and tilts his head, gaze drifting off. He's quiet, almost as if mulling over how to answer that before he smiles and shrugs, looking back to Bruce then. ]
Yeah. Of course. I mean β it was my fault. I got shot and didn't heal fast enough to get to Victor in time β which is funny when I'm as fast as I am. [ Yet there's no humor in his tone. ] But I fixed it, so. Everything's fine.
[ Fingers drum against the counter as she smiles to Bruce and slowly lets his gaze drift off again. Survivor's guilt even when not technically being the only survivor because you reversed time to fix it Is A Thing, who knew. But not wanting to dwell on that, he tilts his head again, licking over his lips. ]
It's... given me a lot to think about? That if I can reverse time and fix one point in time... maybe I can fix other things too.
[ Like go back far enough to save his mother from her murder. ]
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His mind hooks onto something else, though, and Bruce sets his coffee aside to lean in, making sure that he gets Barry's eyes. ]
If you want to assign a fault, then it's mine. I didn't get enough parademons away from you, I brought you into this, I didn't stop Luthor in time to prevent him from communicating with worlds beyond ours.
[ Also, he tried to kill Superman. But he's gone ten rounds with blame already with that, against Clark, and he's not willing to tie an anchor to Barry's foot with that one. It sucks, it's miserable, but it's between them; if he hadn't done it, there wouldn't have been a weapon to kill Doomsday, and then where would they be? An awful paradox which he loathes, but things are what they are. ]
Thank you for saving us, Barry. None of that worked without you. We all had a part in it and none of us were perfect. And what you did was incredible. Not just that you have the ability, but you had the nerve for it.
( * like maybe he already had zombie mom and dad back during that weird time in the 80s when he was still a kid and the murders were very fresh and a magic wish brought his parents back to life then a glowing godlike voice from a tv told him he was a selfish monster about it and now he's too traumatized to try again WONDER WOMAN 84 YOU WERE A HELL OF A FILM )
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So, instead, he looks to the man who stays so close to him and he offers him a soft smile. ]
I didn't know what would happen. Going back towards the speed of light β faster than the speed of light, but. [ But he had pushed himself to do it. Had gone the fastest he's ever gone thus far and that was for only a handful of seconds. ] I had to try. I just... sort of hoped it would work. I saw the potential for it when we brought back Clark. I pulled back a couple seconds then.
[ Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he stares off ahead, wondering if he should say anything about an idea β a possible obsession it could spiral into. ]
I want to see how far back I can go. How much time I can reverse. If I can go back far enough... I can save my mom β my dad doesn't have to go to jail for something he didn't do, I just... need to figure out how. How much faster I need to go.
[ And then proceed to break time in the process. ]
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He keeps hold of Barry's hand, and brings his other to the younger man's face, stroking over his cheekbone and holding him there, taking a moment. Just not wanting him to feel too out to see while he's quiet.
Eventually, he says, ]
If you got lost I would miss you very much.
[ But he understands why Barry wants to try.
It's not fair that Clark got to come back and not anyone else. ]
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When Bruce comes to cradle his hand against his face, however, he pulls himself from his thoughts and the what ifs zipping around in his head and his gaze softens at what Bruce says... how earnest and soft he seems in saying what he does.
It tugs at Barry in a way that makes him pause for a couple of seconds. It's... a possibility. One he's been chewing on since everything happened. The thought of getting "lost in time" is not anything he hasn't considered. He just... doesn't know how accurate it is, especially with his being so fast.
He smiles, ] Lost in time and unable to find the present. Yeah. Can't say the theory's not possible. [ Licking over his lips, he nods, slow. A tilt of his head into that hand, he lets his gaze warmly settle on the other man, words soft but so earnest. ]
I'd come back to you.
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Somewhere else.
Barry, tired and haggard, reaching out to him in that strange armor. He doesn't want to see the younger man like that again, not awake, not while dreaming. He doesn't want him to end up there, or start seeing the sort of shit that Bruce sees. ]
If at all possible, [ he says quietly, ] be very careful with yourself, and perform only miracles.
[ Not disasters. He wants to believe Barry would come back - of course he believes he'd want to - but they don't get everything they want. They don't get parents or happily ever afters or lives that don't involve having to avert various apocalypses. The good things are moments like this.
But what does Bruce know? He's one more psychotic break away from being unreachable. He has no superhuman abilities. Maybe Barry can fix anything he wants, rewrite everything, for anyone. ]
Did you get enough to eat?
[ Is that. Is that an awkward shift. He's just thinking of it, is all. Thinking of a hundred things at the same time. There are a lot of eggs, just in case. ]
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Miracles is definitely a way to look at what Barry is capable of doing with his reversing time β that in itself is a miracle of miracles and the closest thing to time travel that they have. You know, until he's able to figure out exactly how to do that in a more concrete and lasting way, punching through time itself back years upon years; much like he'd been able to figure out and do in the future it seems... one possible future.
Regardless, Bruce goes and switches the topic from potential doom and gloom to hearty breakfast choices and Barry lets him, wanting to enjoy this good moment here between them while he still can; talking about dead family members is such a bummer, you know? ]
Food-wise? I'm good here.
[ To which he holds up a wrap or sandwich or WHATEVER it is he's taken for himself and left there on the counter with the other things Bruce ordered. ]
But my hunger for the flesh has yet to be satisfied.
[ There's a waggling of his eyebrows, a sultry little drawl in his speech, and he walks his fingers up Bruce's arm a little playfully all while he leans in and griiiins to the other man.
You know, before he huffs a laugh and pulls back, waving a hand. ]
Yes. I'm getting enough to eat. Thank you, oh handsome man of thy manor.
[ Stuffing that wrap in his mouth, he looks over to Bruce with a smile around his food and wiggles a bit there in his seat. Energy coming back? Energy coming back. A snackhole speedster being refueled right before Bruce's eyes. ]
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Such a rewind could change much more than just the fate of Barry's parents. He could miss the incident that gave him his speed entirely. Would someone else be in his place at the battle against Steppenwolf? Someone without the nerve to do what he did? Would they have accepted Bruce's call to action?
Or maybe there's just no one, and they'll be dead.
He can't say that to Barry. Can he? No. Not right now, at least. Maybe not ever. Barry deserves to have that hope, and he probably even deserves to try to do it. He deserves to be at home with his parents and not out risking his life to save the world. That's what Bruce has always fought for: to keep people from experiencing what he experienced. He has no right to try and stop Barry from making it happen for himself.
Bruce is oddly unresponsive during Barry's flirtatious finger-walking, and only seems to come back to himself a beat too late, looking down and then back up. ]
Good, [ he says, evidently embarrassed to have been lost in thought. Still sort of holding onto him in places, he sits up. Woof. What a weirdo. ]
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Either way, the fact that Bruce's reaction seems to be rather delayed and distant almost has the speedster curiously look to him, mouth full of food. Telepathy isn't anything he has for a power but he can read expression and body language well enough to be able to see that something seems to be on the other man's mind and, in doing so, keeping him away from him up there in his head.
Food placed down, he turns a bit and slides those fingers up the other man's arm until they curl at his bicep and hold there. Gentle. ]
Hey. [ Word soft, much as his touch and gaze are on the man. ] I'm right here.
[ He's not sure if Bruce is lingering on the possibilities and consequences of his wanting to punch back through time as far as he can, but considering it had been what they'd just been talking about, it's a safe enough bet to place if he had to make one and so he seeks to reassure him. ]
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Maybe he just wishes it was too much. Contending with the fact that he's enough of a control freak to look at these problems ago 'sure' is a bit strange.
(He doesn't remember the time in between Barry's rewind. But if he did: seeing the end of it, the boxes coming together, and knowing what it meant. He didn't try to run, didn't attempt any kind of escape or launch another futile attack in a defiant move. Batman simply hopped down from the lip of the reactor to join them. Knowing it was death.)
Doomsday wool-gathering. Bruce looks at Barry and then sits forward, reaching out to him and coaxing him closer, over from the other chair and into his lap. He leans back in his seat to look at him. ]
I'm only thinking that it's unfair you have to consider things like this, [ Bruce tells him, not wanting Barry to think that Bruce lacks confidence in his judgement. ] And that I wish I had a better answer.
[ But he doesn't even have one for himself. ]
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I have to try... [ He murmurs then, thumbs stroking over Bruce's neck he holds. ] ...I can't not.
[ He doesn't ask if Bruce would do the same because it seems unfair to almost guilt him into agreeing with him. Not that he doesn't, but. It's clear he has some reservations about it and sure, Barry can understand that. To an extent. But if the law wasn't going to help his father, then he'd have to do it himself. However he can and if that means running back further in time? Then that's what he'll do. Soon as he can figure it out.
In the meantime, he licks over his lips and sighs, gaze dropping while thumbs still stroke over Bruce's neck as he sits there, straddling his lap. ]
You believe in me. Don't you?
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For a lot of reasons, sure, like potentially erasing the entire world, but also, like, it sucks. It feels like shit. Bruce knows. His parents are dead (!) and he knows what his mother's brain matter looks like, as flecks of it ended up congealed to the end of his shoe when he was eight.
Life is unkind and he justβ
Whatever.
Barry says that, and Bruce smiles. Warm and real. ]
More than I think you understand.
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At least, for now, it doesn't and he has this moment here with the other man.
Leaning in, he bumps his nose against Bruce's, breath soft with quiet laughter as he lets his eyes fall shut and just nuzzles him with so much affection for the other man... maybe he's already emotionally tangled up in him in ways he can't free himself from. But he doesn't seem to care. How can he when he feels... like this? ]
Thank you.
[ The words are a whisper against Bruce's lips and he doesn't exactly refer to what he is thanking him for. Believing in him, asking him to join his team, breakfast, fucking him hard and good, telling him of his possible future self visiting him... maybe it's all of the above, who's to say. Not Barry. Because rather than elaborate on that, he kisses Bruce. Warm but playfully feverish as he smiles into that kiss, arms crossing around him with a pleased little hum on his lips. ]
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