archimedes |b. allen|

seasons change, people don't

seasons change, people don't

To say that it had been awkward in the days following the outing of Dr. Wells, would have been an understatement.

True, there was more going on than just flipping everyone's world upside down about the man they thought they knew. Because still yet, Barry and I were still dancing around each other.

"I thought you were taking the night off," I raise my voice so the owner of the crunching footsteps behind me would hear.

"I got bored," Barry shrugs, taking his mask off as he sits himself down beside me on the edge of the towering Steage Marketing building.

We were finally getting to the point in my training where Dr. Wells (boo) and the team thought I was capable of taking on the city by myself. Barry was very obviously on standby if anything was ever out of my control. But robberies, men with guns, and other petty crime was easy enough for a Beginner like myself.

Despite how cool I try to appear in front of him, a hint of a giggle escapes my throat. "So you came to patrol with me? You're a workaholic, Allen."

"Says you," he quips, and I steal a glance at him to find that he's already looking at me.

His eyes wander up and down my silhouette, not so discreetly. It's when I clear my throat, shifting my weight and snapping my gaze away from him that he looks away.

"The new suit looks, uh—looks great," he coughs.

"Yeah, Cisco did great," I reply immediately.

"Good ole Cisco..." he trails off, quickly glancing and me and then away again.

Dancing.

The new suit was everything Cisco had told me, and more. The classic white suit had been reinforced threefold, with additional paneling along the sides consisting of a iridescent blue-lilac sort of material that Cisco said was strikingly similar to the hue of myself when I was hardly lucent.

And with the help of Ray Palmer and his billionaire brain and technology, Cisco added some kind of propulsion machinery on the boots of my little outfit, aiding me in my new flight skill.

I was still getting the hang of it.

(I crashed every time I tried to land).

"Been busy tonight?" he asks, startling me from my thoughts.

I shake my head. "More than manageable."

"Good, good, yeah..."

And good god, it was all just so awkward.

"Barry—"

"Sam—"

We both laugh, his eyes floating to the city as mine land on him. He looks so young when he's laughing. Like maybe the weight and wear of all this isn't etched on his face permanently.

"You first," he says, catching his breath before I do.

"Oh, um..." And suddenly I can't imagine what the hell I was possibly going to say to him.

His eyes are intently all over me, bouncing around every corner of my face before settling on my own eyes. My breath hitches in my throat as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, most likely dry from the cool April air. And his eyes never leave mine.

And then there's the saving grace of Francisco Baracus Ramon in our ears, both of us instinctively reaching for our masks and slipping them on. "Shots fired near Third and Bruckner."

Barry and I both glance at each other before hopping off the skyscraper, him racing down the bottom, while I attempt to activate the boosters in my shoes and lighten myself to fly above the scene.