impossible | barry allen

130

[ oliver's pov ]

"Babe, I made breakfast-" The sound of what was not Felicity Smoak's voice fills my ears, my eyes slowly opening, sunlights shining through the curtains, blinding me for a split second.

I slowly sat up, the comforter falling off my bare chest, as I looked around, confused as ever. This was not my bedroom.

"Honey-" The recognizable voice of Zee Allen sounds as she calls from downstairs, "It'll get cold."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion, as I got up, slipping on a grey t shirt, leaving the room and walking down the stairs slowly, my eyes squinting at the sight of a framed picture of Zee and I.

I start to mutter under my breath, eyeing everything around me, "What the hell-"

"Morning." Zee tiredly chirped, walking over to me, somehow even with her short height, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, holding a bowl in her hands, "Look- I made a decent breakfast today."

She had on an burnt orange sweater, the color bringing out the complexion of her skin. Her badge was attached to the waistband of her skinny jet black jeans, rips at her knees, her hair straight and slightly longer than the last time I had seen her, stood on her tippy toes due to her white slip on vans not giving her to push she needed to meet my height.

"Breakfast-?" I ask, looking at her perplexingly.

"Yes, breakfast." She smiles up at me, "I know you usually like your pancakes, waffles and sausage and all, but I didn't wanna just wake you up to a bowl of cereal because of how bad of a cook I am. Of course, you being a speedster, it'd take a snap of a finger for you to make a whole feast, but you were already sleeping in so I didn't wanna disturb you. But, then I realized this morning that the only thing I'm actually good at in the cooking department is cutting and putting stuff together, so I made açaí bowls for breakfast. There's granola and everything. And I mean- you did sleep in- or if you would've woken up on time, I would've made you make breakfast."

I slowly nod, not knowing what to say to her, my confusion increasing.

"I promise, they're really good." She laughs softly, pressing a short and sweet kiss to my lips, my eyes widening at the gesture.

I stare at her with wide eyes, stammering, "What if Barry walks in? What if- he could have seen that?"

"What?" She looks at me confused, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Where's Barry?" I ask her.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?" She asks me, patting my chest, walking over to the dinner table as I aimlessly follow her, "I know that we haven't caught Cicada, but Caitlin's immunity can help us. She's our secret weapon."

"Who's Cicada?" I immediately question.

"Our big bad." She answers obviously, concern flashing in her eyes once she sat down, setting down the bowl, "Barry, are you okay?"

"I'm Barry?" I gape at her.

"Yeah?" She stares at her, somewhat weirded out, patting the table surface for me to sit in the seat, as I did what she gestured, as she grabbed my hand, "Honey, hi. Talk to me."

I look at our hands, then look up at her, stammering, "I did not get enough sleep."

"Are you sure it's not my cooking?" The entire subject changes, a cautious look on her face, "All I did was throw stuff into a bowl and call it a day. Did I really do this wrong too?"

"No, no." I clear my throat, grabbing the bowl, sniffing the fruity smell, "This smells delicious."

"The last time you said something like that, you forced burnt pancakes down to make me happy." She lightly hits my arm, "You know what? I think that you call Captain Singh and you ask for a day off. I'm gonna have to head to the station soon, but with all the superhero-ing you've been doing, I think you've earned it."