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“I can’t do that, Iris!” yelps Barry Allen, attempting to use his locker door as a shield to keep his foster-sister’s crazy ideas at bay.
“You are literally the only person he talks to in more than monosyllables who isn’t a Snart, and as fascinating as Len Snart is, I’m not going to ask him to interview his best friend for the school newspaper, that would be weird.”
“Ask Lisa.” begs Barry.
“She’s in middle school.”
Barry shifts back and forth and attempts to hide deeper in his locker. Iris closes it on his shoulder.
“Barry. What is your problem?”
“Iriiiiiiiiiiiis.” Barry whines. “Iris, please, don’t make me talk to him.”
“Bartholomew Henry Allen –“ Iris all-bar snarls. Oh dear lord, the full name, he got full-named.
“He’s so hot, Iris.” Barry mutters, mostly to cut Iris off. Iris makes a noise in the back of her throat that’s almost too high-pitched, and pulls Barry off to the side of the corridor, away from their lockers.
“You have a crush on him?” she hisses.
Barry stares determinedly at the white toes of his converse rather than saying anything.
“Well that settles it, you absolutely have to talk to him.”
Barry looks up, eyes wide and defensive, and the warning bell rings, loud and abrasive.
Great. He’s never gonna get out of it now.
***
The Allen Kid is sitting on the floor opposite the trainer’s room when Mick arrives there after school to PT his ankles. He’s got his knees half pulled up to his chest and his binder open on top of his thighs, a chemistry textbook on the floor open to a page of problems, and his phone resting on the top of his knee, unlocked and showing a Spotify playlist. Mick wants to bang his head against the wall a couple of times, because Allen’s wearing glasses and skinny jeans and converses and tapping his toes to The Supremes, and Mick wants to fight anyone who even comes close to hurting him. Instead, he clears his throat. Allen’s only got one earphone in, so he looks up as soon as he hears Mick, plainly startled.
“Waitin’ for someone?” Mick asks, and Christ Almighty, he’s apparently a masochist, because he’s going to have to hear Allen say he’s dating Eddie the Quarterback or that fucker Oliver from the rifle team or Linda from the cross country team or something.
“Um, actually, I was waiting for you?” Allen says, voice turning the statement into a tentative question, like he’s expecting Mick to run him off or beat him up. It shouldn’t be endearing. It is.
“Well, why don’t you keep me company while I do these exercises?” Mick offers. Allen goes the most adorable shade of pink, blushing all the way down the column of his throat. Mick wonders how far down his chest is stained the same color, and then has to go back to mentally slamming his head against the wall because he cannot have his mind in the gutter for this conversation.
“Oh, there’s no need for that, I just had a question for you, is all.”
Mick cocks an eyebrow at him.
“My sister, Iris? She writes for the school paper, and they wanted to do a feature on you now you’ve committed to UCLA and she asked me if I’d talk to you for it, and I mean it’s fine if you don’t, that’s totally up to you-“
Christ, even his babbling is adorable.
“Tell you what.” says Mick, interrupting the spiel. “I’ll pick you up from your place after I’m done with practice, and I can answer your questions over dinner.”
Allen freezes. Mick swallows hard, and braces himself for Allen saying he’s got a girlfriend, or awkwardly stuttering that he’s straight. He doesn’t.
“That would be really great.” says Allen – Barry, Mick supposes he can start calling him Barry, he has agreed to a date after all – “I’d really like that. Do you have my address?”
“It’s in the contact info book. I’ll look it up.” Mick replies.
“Great.” says Barry, a little breathless.
“Great.” answers Mick.
“I’ll see you then.” says Barry.
Mick’s saved from complete loserdom in front of the boy he likes by Rob, the trainer, roaring his name. He gives Barry one last grin, and then heads inside. Not even twenty seconds later, just as he starts ice-cupping his ankle, his phone buzzes with a text from Lenny.
Finally pulled your head out of your ass and asked Allen out, I hear.
The text is accompanied by an obnoxious unicorn and rainbows gif. Mick finds a gif of someone flipping the bird and sends it back to Len, followed by an actual message because Barry did agree to the date and therefore Mick is feeling ballsy.
Does this mean you’re gonna square up and ask the science midget?
As expected, he gets no reply. But that’s normal when Mick brings up Len’s ridiculous crush on Ramon.
***
Barry slams the passenger door of Iris’ car shut and rests his head against the glovebox. The fact he also had his eyes squeezed shut is probably why he jumped so hard when Cisco’s voice floated out of the back seat.
“So? What happened?”
When Barry’s heart rate is back within normal parameters, he fixes his eyes on his knees and draws in a deep breath.
“He said he’d do an interview.”
Iris fistpumps.
“He’s going to do it tonight. Over dinner. After he’s done with practice.”
“What, by phone?” asks Wally, from where he’s crammed between Cisco and Caitlin.
“No, he’s going to pick me up.” says Barry, a little snappishly. The noise from the rest of the car is deafening.
“Oh my god.” Iris says, finally, still about an octave above her normal voice. “Oh my god, Mick Rory is going to take you out on a date.”
Barry just about chokes on his own inhale.
“Its an interview! Not a date!”
“Which he scheduled for dinner. That he’s picking you up for. When he could have done it literally any other time. It’s a date, Barry.”
Barry swallows hard, and Iris floors it.
***
They go to their usual coffee shop, Jitters, first, for their usual homework sessions, but when they’re done, Cisco and Caitlin climb straight back into the car.
“Are you kidding?” Caitlin says, when Barry questions this.
“We’re coming to help you get ready for your date.”
“It’s not a date!” Barry yelps. The discussion of it keeps them occupied for the drive back to the West house, and all the way inside.
“It was his decision to do it over dinner, Barr, you’re not reading too much into it.” says Iris.
“Reading too much into what?” Joe asks, from his seat at the kitchen table.
“Hi Detective West!” chirp Caitlin and Cisco in unison, as they kick off their shoes.
“Hi, Cisco. Hi, Caitlin. What is Barry overthinking?”
“Mick Rory asked him out.” says Wally, way too gleefully.
“Mick did no such thing! He just agreed to do the interview and asked to do it over dinner.”
“He did what.” says Joe, voice low and a little scary.
“Mick agreed to the interview Iris asked me to ask him for, and asked if we could do it over dinner?” Barry says, suddenly terrified for no reason he can place, but sure it’s because of Mick. “He said he’d pick me up?”
Joe’s stormy expression breaks, and he grins.
“Sure sounds like a date to me. And if you’re dating someone, then Missy over here can stop pretending that the paper is so interested in cross country meets and admit she’s going to support her girlfriend.”
Iris goes pink, and Cisco makes a grand and melodramatic “oh” in the background.
“I assume you guys are here for moral support?” Joe asks Caitlin. She grins and nods, and Joe waves them all up the stairs.
“Make sure he wears something nice!”
***
Mick arrives at 7:35, the fastest post-practice turn around he’s ever pulled, and Barry’s out on the porch before Mick can make a move up the path, so instead, Mick leans himself against the hood of his car and watches Barry walk out.
“You look nice.” Mick offers, when Barry gets to the car. Barry blushes that pretty pink again, and rubs a hand over the back of his neck, under the collar of the deep red
dress shirt he was wearing.
“Thanks.”
Mick opens the passenger side door for him, and Barry blushes even harder as he slides in. It’s like he’s deliberately hitting all of Mick’s buttons. God, Mick hopes this
works out.
When he gets in the car, Barry grins at him, bright and sunshine-y, and Mick suddenly feels like he could move mountains.
***
Someone tap-closes Barry’s locker door against his shoulder the next morning, grabbing his attention despite the fact he has both headphones in. He’d needed them both for the trip in that morning, which Iris and Wally had taken as a chance to tease him mercilessly for the fact that Joe had turned the driveway floodlight on to drag Barry out of Mick’s car and into bed, and very obviously illuminated the way that Barry was half in Mick’s lap and clutching Mick’s shoulders, while Mick attempted to check Barry’s tonsils with his tongue.
When he turns, it’s Mick standing next to him, rather than Iris. He’s all dolled up in a shirt and tie for the road game, grinning despite their late night and the early hour.
“Hey, doll.” Mick says, once Barry’s paused his music and taken his earphones out.
“Hey.” says Barry, nervous. He’s very aware that it’s one thing to make out in Mick’s car, and another to been seen together in public.
“I have a proposition for you.” says Mick. “I give you this now, and the next time we have a home game, I’ll get you something a little less bulky to wear.”
He extends his hands towards Barry, and the bulk he’s holding resolves itself into Mick’s letterman jacket, complete with his surname and his number. Barry stares at it
for a moment, and then takes it out of Mick’s hands.
“When you say less bulky-“ asks Barry, as he slides it on. Mick grins, and pulls Barry in by his felt lapels to kiss him.
At the next home game, Barry and his friends are in the front row cheering, and Barry’s wearing Mick’s away jersey with his jeans.