agoodyarn | somewhere in central city...

He's. Is this for real. Is this really happening right now. Barry has no poker face, he knows he has no poker face and he knows he looks a little angry as he shakes the guy's hand, because what else is he supposed to do? He's not the Flash right now, he's not here to arrest this guy, and does he even have anything on him except being an eye witness? Clearly he's already pawned the jewelry. He's already gotten his, whatever it was, his new identity.

"That's, that's great, I'm sure the paper's lucky to have you."

He knows Iris is giving him a weird what's up with you look, but he can't explain right now.

"We were just leaving. Sorry."

He smiles again and holds up both hands, spreading them in front of him.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt." He leans towards Iris with a nod. "As she'll tell you, I'm a big believer in letting my employees have full and healthy personal lives."

Iris grins over at her boss with a shake of her head but he steps back and flutters one hand in a (to Barry, at least) familiar sort of wave.

"Besides, I'm sure you'll have her back in a flash," because yes, he is exactly that kind of asshole. Not that anyone who wasn't in the know would be able to tell. "You two have a good lunch, all right?"

To Iris: "And you'll have that on my desk by tomorrow morning, right."

"Right," is what he gets back before turning on his heel and making his way back to his office. Even the walk was the same.

Once he was back in his office, however, Iris took Barry's arm and hustled him out, pausing once they were outside the building to tug him off around the side.

"Okay, what? Are you seriously suggesting- my boss is the diamond thief you were upset about?"

Edited 2016-12-08 04:59 (UTC)

Oh, you did not. Barry manages to keep the flicker of anger to a minimum, but this guy is looking for it, and he sees it, and that just irritates Barry even more. Which is one reason he doesn't resist at all when Iris rushes him out of the office.

"I know he is, Iris, I know it, I'd never forget what he looks like, I didn't even put a dent in him," he stage-whispers, looking back at the building like that's making him angry all on its own. "And he knows me, Iris, 'back in a flash', you heard him."

Iris looks doubtful, and maybe she ought to, but he's rattled. He hadn't expected to see the bank robber again—Clark Luthor, is that even his real name?—but he has, and he's got the same attitude when he's talking about being a strong editorial leader as when he's robbing a freaking jewelry store, and Barry doesn't like him.

He pulls out his phone and texts Cisco to look up what he can about this guy, and then sighs and shoves his phone back in his pocket. "Sorry. You still want lunch?"

Iris watches him at it for a moment before holding up her hands.

"If you want to get on this angle right now, we can reschedule."

Because she knows Barry. And she knows how focused he gets when he's fired up about something. This will be a lunch full of 'that guy' this and possibly some grumping about the fact that yes, Iris happens to like him.

"I mean, unless you think I should be worried? Cause, uh... he's been here like, a week, and so far, no creep factor. He really is a pretty good boss."

But I trust YOU is what she's saying there. She doesn't want Barry to get the wrong idea. She trusts him more than any guy, cool or not. But her reporter's instincts are telling her that there's more to the story.

"I'll get something to eat and come back and maybe I can find out a little more about him. Something you can use to catch him?"

"I'm sorry, I, ugh." Barry rubs the back of his neck, thinking, then shakes his head slowly. "I don't...think you need to be worried, I guess? I mean, he was the politest guy who ever flicked me into a wall," he says reluctantly. "But, yeah, I gotta figure this out, be careful, I'll see you later, I'll make it up to you!" As he's already heading down the street, talking a little louder as the distance grows.

At least he knows Iris won't be mad, even if she's a little resigned to this stuff happening sometimes. But this is important, and as soon as he's out of range he's speeding back to STAR Labs to consult with Cisco over whatever he can dig up, the guy's history, records, even his address, anything.

Turns out he does have an address, publicly listed and everything, like he's just some guy who happens to now own the company where Iris works. He weighs his options, visiting as the Flash vs Barry Allen, and finally decides visiting as the Flash is a better plan.

Not that this guy doesn't already know who he is somehow. But Barry Allen doesn't have a reason to talk to him, and the Flash doesn't need one. So that's who shows up, zipping to the rooftop and eyeing Luthor's balcony. The door is open, is that an oversight or an invitation or is he just enjoying the night air?

"Are you coming in or should I only pour for one?"

Yup, that is definitely the same voice and that is definitely an invitation, a fact that would become infinitely clearer when Barry walked in. Because Luthor is sitting comfortably on a chaise lounge, dressed in nothing more than a pair of silk boxers and a thin silk robe with a bottle of scotch that probably costs about as much as one of Barry's paychecks and two glasses.

The lights are low, but not off, and the decor is the sort of expensive that doesn't look comfortable but actually is unlike the knock offs versions most people own. All in all, it's a rather inviting picture.

He glances over at Barry as he starts to pour his own drink.

"I hope you'll forgive me the terrible play on words, Barry. But I had to be sure you were fully aware of the situation." He tilts his head up at him. "I'm glad Iris knows, though. I'm sure that makes things much less complicated for you."

This wasn't exactly what Barry had expected to see when he came to his usual skidding stop in a crackling burst of lightning. For a wild moment, he feels the urge to apologize as he looks around at the low lights, the two glasses, the, um, outfit. Clearly he's expecting someone. Or someone's already here. Which makes this not a good time to talk about past offenses.

"Iris is someone I trust to know," he says after a moment, straightening slowly, distinctly keeping the cowl on even though he clearly already knows who's underneath it. "You're not. What's your deal, man, you rob a jewelry store and then come back and buy the local newspaper office in the same city?"

It's cute that Barry thought he was waiting for someone else. Really, Barry. Really.

"And now she knows about me. Honestly, I don't mind. She seems like a very... reasonable woman." Which should have sounded creepy and predatory but... nope. He's not interested in Iris that way. He likes keeping his business and his pleasure separate when it comes to his public face.

"Though I thought I explained at the time: I needed starter capital. The jewelry store paid me a small fee and gave me a specific list of items to steal that they were having trouble moving in this economy. Insurance companies don't have 'taste', after all. Then it was a matter of selling off the jewelry, taking my fee, getting that identification I needed, and applying the funds to the stock market. Did I break a few rules there?"

He wobbles a hand as he finishes pouring for himself.

"Yes, of course, but the whole thing's a farce, so I don't really feel all that bad about it."

He holds up the bottle and hovers it over the glass with an obvious look at Barry.

"And I bought CCPN because it was the right price. My preference would be for the Planet but one doesn't tempt journalists of that caliber with a mystery like my short existence in this reality. Not worth it. Picture News was my best prospect to get back to my actual business."

What? How is Barry supposed to know what a jewelry-store-robber-turned-newspaper-owner does with his evenings? Why would he be waiting for the Flash looking like that? It would not cross his mind, it really wouldn't.

"It was an insurance scam," Barry says slowly, and it shouldn't make him feel any better, but it does. A little bit. Very little. Hardly at all. He could follow up on that, point the cops in the direction of the store again, and maybe he will, but right now he's still far too much in the dark about what's going on.

He's picking up on all the key phrases like this reality, and he hasn't overlooked that first comment about meddling in the multiverse and destroying worlds. After a few moments, he reaches up and pushes the cowl back, since it seems pointless anyway and it's not like Cisco and Caitlin are on the other end this time. "No, thanks. I'm not here for a drink. What's your actual business?"

Clark actually looks a little startled at the question. After all, he hasn't caused any trouble, he clearly isn't spoiling for a fight, and he's trying to be cordial.

Even though Barry hasn't asked, he pours out to the other glass and, being as obvious as humanly possible, pushes the drink over to the other seat across the table. He might not BE here for a drink, but why not join him?

"My 'actual business' is to live a peaceful, extravagant life enjoying the comforts of an Earth entirely devoid of other Luthors in the lap of luxury. Publish my paper, maybe build a media conglomerate if it suits my fancy. Eat, drink, live, and enjoy whatever, whoever, and wherever strikes my fancy."

He flutters a hand to one side.

"I'm not opposed to lending assistance to you all here, should the world be threatened. But I've discovered my temper's a bit thin for your usual smash and grab heists. All of you so... fragile."

And there, in a sliver of an instant, something genuine that flickers away as he turns back to Barry with a smooth smile.

"Any other questions?"

Yes. So many other questions. Too many for Barry to even process right now, which is annoying, and to buy himself time, he zips to the table—okay, he doesn't need to buy that much time—and picks up the glass. It won't get him drunk, he isn't worried about that. And he's pretty sure Clark wouldn't need to drug him, since apparently he could just flick a finger and send Barry through the wall, or out the window.

He takes a sip, and it might be the best scotch he's ever tasted, smooth and rich and complicated, and a voice in the back of his head whispers, a lot like the host. Scowling, he pushes that aside and swallows, but on the way over here, he had been wondering a little why he hadn't sent Cisco a text to let him know he was investigating this guy. He should have. He'll be in for it if Caitlin or Cisco find out he'd come here without telling them first.

"Well yeah, obviously someone I don't know who really likes being cryptic with me would be my first call if the world gets threatened."

And that's... almost normal, that blinky headtilt. Even... kind of cute. More human, anyway. Genuinely confused.

"Barry, I've answered every question you've asked as honestly as possible. I've offered you no threat, done you as little harm as was required to accomplish my goals, and have since been less than no trouble to you. I do you the courtesy of letting you know I'm aware of your secret and I've made no move to threaten or coerce or harm you over having mine in the palm of your hand."

His gaze settles a little more heavily on Barry.

"What, exactly, are you looking for that I haven't served to you on a platter?"

And if his hip shifts just a little while he crosses his ankles, well, they call it body language for a reason.

Barry Allen is not an observant man at the best of times, and he's been wrong-footed since they'd first laid eyes on each other, but he does have the grace to look a little awkwardly shamefaced as he rolls the glass between his palms. Clark is right, everything he's saying is true, but there's still something about this that isn't adding up.

"How come you—" he starts, finally planning on asking why it is Clark is so strong, and so fast, but even he can't mistake that kind of a movement, or that kind of a come-hither look. The low lighting and the two glasses and he'd been waiting for the Flash to show up.

"Oh my god. You did check me out before!" He's almost indignant in his surprise, hasn't had time yet to get flustered at the idea.

The smile says he's guessed right, and Clark spreads his hands. Caught. Not that he looks all that troubled by it. Clearly, his shame broke somewhere like a few feet out of the gate and he never went back looking for it.

"Guilty as charged. Though it sounds like you had another question..." and he wiggles a finger at Barry as he takes another sip of his scotch. Swallowing down-

"I'd like to get all those taken care of before we address anything else, honestly."

"I, uh." He had had another question. It had been a good one. An important one, he's pretty sure. But he really isn't used to people so casually admitting to checking him out, especially not when they've set up what feels now like a really obvious seduction scene, and the fluster (and flush on his cheeks) is out in full force now.

It's hard to think past the anything else in that statement and get back to the question. "I mean, you're obviously a metahuman like me...right? Which is why you're really strong. And fast." Except they haven't encountered any metahumans who are both really strong and really fast and can hear as well as he can, since he'd heard the voices over Barry's comms. "I think I should know about that before we, um, yeah. Address anything else."

"Correction," he says as he leans back in the chair, taking in the full majesty of a flustered Flash flushing full force in his front room. He can feel the heat from those cheeks if he concentrates, after all.

"Metahuman implies that I'm human. Which, I am not. I am," sigh, don't be weird Barry, "an alien, born on another planet and raised here due to the rather unfortunate circumstances of said planet exploding shortly thereafter."

He raises a finger.

"Not because of me, mind you. Think... alien fracking, if you need a good mental picture. Combined with war and advanced technology."

But he dismisses all of that to take a sip and look over at Barry.

"Strong, fast, with senses that make your most advanced technological sensors look blind and deaf and a body that can withstand the vacuum of space, let alone 'bullets'. A few other little tricks I'll keep up my sleeve for the moment, more for your sake than for mine." A quick quirk of his lips before he slowly lets his gaze go back to Barry's eyes, taking in the sights on the way up. It is a very flattering suit, after all.

"Other than that, you're familiar with what else is under the robe. At least, I should hope you are."

It's probably going to be obvious to someone with such heightened senses, but at the explanation, Barry does the opposite of being weird. He looks surprised, pleasantly so, and his shoulders relax. This isn't the first alien from a destroyed planet he's met, after all.

"Oh. Yeah. Okay." Like Kara, he thinks, pretty much just the same. Isn't her cousin's name Clark? But that train of thought gets derailed at the heated, assessing stare that drags all the way up his body, and does that even count as innuendo anymore? "Look, um. I mean, yes, obviously, but I don't, ah, what exactly is..." Barry waves a hand vaguely at the low lights, the open door, the whole setup, "all this?"

He looks genuinely surprised by how easily Barry takes that particular bit of news. Generally, people are a little more shocked. Then again, Barry's seen a few things from him that make that almost a relief. After all, that makes him unique. A unique problem. As opposed to one that might have been duplicated by that damnable particle accelerator accident.

...but then he's addressing-

Honestly, Barry.

HONESTLY.

Clark moves then, his actions swift in a way that still somehow still looks elegant, purposeful. He stands on his feet, suddenly in front of Barry, and catches his eyes like a snake ensnaring a rabbit. Stay still, rabbit. Nothing bad is going to happen.

At least, this time.

Instead, he dips in, slowfast, swift and yet delicate, and presses a firm kiss to Barry's lips. When he draws back, he offers a raised eyebrow.

"Are we all on the same page now?"

Barry is fast, it's sort of his thing, and sometimes he forgets there are other people who are as fast (or faster). There isn't a chance of him pulling back, not with the way Clark catches and holds his eyes as he leans in. He can feel his heart picking up even more, knows Clark can hear it, and he can't stop himself from licking his lips.

Yeah, they're on the same page, even Barry can't possibly miss what that means, but what's he supposed to do with this? "I didn't come here for this," he points out, automatically a little softer because Clark's so much closer now, "I didn't, this is crazy, I don't even know you."

Barry is, unquestionably, faster. But Barry spent most of his life at normal speed. Barry has family and friends who encourage him to look before he leaps. Barry has never been trained, ruthlessly, to ignore that moment of hesitation so he can reach out and grab what he wants.

That's why Clark doesn't back off, doesn't step away. Instead, he stays almost as close as he'd been, leans in a little to brush the side of his cheek against Barry's as he whispers to him.

"And how am I ever going to get to know you if you keep running away?"

Barry is hesitating now, knowing full well he should be halfway across the city, he shouldn't be thinking about this, he shouldn't have even let it get this far. He can hear Joe's voice in his head, and Caitlin's, and Cisco's, and even Iris' asking him why he's so sure now when he'd been so suspicious before, but that's the thing. He isn't sure.

He's never sure about letting people in. People who get close to him, they get hurt. But if Clark is like Kara, he isn't going to get kidnapped by some psycho metahuman and used as a bargaining tool against the Flash. He won't need to worry about not getting there in time to save him.

He's thinking too hard about this, too, Clark's not proposing, he's trying to get Barry into bed, and he can't help the wry smile. "I guess you wouldn't," he says, and doesn't run.

That gets a smile, more felt than seen, and he turns from that opportune angle to press a soft kiss to the juncture of Barry's jaw and throat.

Then, soft as the kiss-

"Any other questions, Barry?"

Yeah, here's a question, is Barry really letting this happen? Even if Barry's given up on going after him for the jewelry store robbery—although possibly not given up on dropping that insurance fraud tip on a detective's desk, c'mon now—is he really going to give this guy everything he wants, just like that?

The thought crosses his mind as Clark's lips brush his skin, and he smiles with a little more wickedness than before. "Yeah, one more...if I ran, would you chase me?"

And in a crackle of lightning, he's leaning in the doorway to the balcony again, cowl up, grin still firmly in place. Who doesn't love playing a little hard to get, after all?

There's a flicker of movement as Clark disappears... and then reappears, dressed impeccably in a suit. This time, it's a red shirt and a black and gold tie and the combination of colors practically makes his blue eyes glow.

"If you're worth the run," is his answer to that. He dips his head towards Barry with a sly smile. "Are you, Barry?"

The little heart-skip Barry feels doesn't have anything to do with nervousness this time. It's all anticipation, the idea of the chase, and getting challenged by someone who isn't actively trying to kill him, with...something...waiting at the end, maybe. "I dunno," he says, straightening, "but I bet you want to find out."

And with that he's off the balcony, running down the side of the building, nowhere near a top speed or even a speed he can't maintain pretty indefinitely, because it's one thing to play hard to get, but it's another thing to play impossible-to-catch. That's not the game.

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a_different_future - 2017-01-30 21:03 (UTC) - Expand