“Rory,” Barry blinked, astonished.
“Doll,” Mick gruffly greeted.
“It's alright if he joins you, isn't it?” the waitress asked, nervously shifting. It wasn't like there was any other place to sit. The diner was all filled up, counter seats taken with little room for anyone to take up much space.
“No – I mean, yeah. It's alright,” Barry replied, wondering just what his life was. Of course, the busy diner wasn't his fault. It was dinnertime after all, and this place had some of the best food around, so of course it would be busy. He just hadn't expected it to be quite this busy.
Mick inclined his head in thanks and sat down in the booth across from Barry. “Thanks, Doll.”
“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” the waitress inquired, setting down a menu for the pyromaniac.
“Iced unsweet tea,” Mick answers, picking up the menu and skimming it.
“I'll be right back with that tea and to take both of your orders,” the waitress told them.
Barry cleared his throat and reached for his cola. He took a sip before he looked up at Mick. “So… Dinner, huh?”
Mick looked up from the menu and quirked a brow. “That's kind of the point of going to a diner at this time, Doll.”
Barry flushed, wanting to smack himself. Of course, it was obvious. 'Stupid, stupid.' He coughed a little and took another sip of his soda. “Right, sorry.”
Shrugging, Mick said, “It's fine.” The criminal looked at Barry, dragging his eyes across the lean man's figure. “Long day?”
Huffing, Barry rubbed his temple. “You wouldn't believe it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mick leaned forward, setting his menu aside. “Try me.”
“So you know the Martinelli's?” Barry asked.
Mick grunted, “Crime family. Uses a club on Kalen St. as a front. Has a lot invested in running drugs through the city.”
Nodding, Barry continues, “Well, they've been having a shake-up lately on leading figures, and this one new guy made the mistake of taking a deal from the Flores'.”
Surprised, Mick asked, “They kill the guy?” The Flores Family was too deep rooted into the city for much competition, and they had a lot more power. Anyone who crossed them usually ended up dead. Unless they were Leonard fucking Snart.
“You're kidding, right? They totally annihilated the guy. Cut off his ears and fingers and left him to rot outside the club. The entire Martinelli's Family cut out the guy's tongue, offed him, and sent the tongue to the Flores' in hopes it'd stop an all-out war,” Barry says, running a hand through his hair with exhaustion.
“I must've run everywhere trying to collect evidence,” he continues. “Stupid patrol car breaks down and they make me walk from the club to the Flores' with them to ask questions and collect samples.”
Mick feels for him. It sounded like a pain. Then again, Mick didn't work, so he didn't have a boss, at least not like Barry did. “Sounds rough.”
Barry nods fervently, sipping his cola some more. “And then this one head in the Flores' tries to ask me out, and I'm like 'Excuse me?' Seriously, though. I'm trying to do my job and he keeps trying to chat me up, asking what I think about the Flores' Italian joint and whether or not I'd like to join him.”
Mick's eyes narrow at that, not that Barry notices because he's looking at the menu again with a considering face. “And what'd you say?”
Barry looks up, confused for a moment. “Oh!” He grins. “I told him any guy I date has to have enough sense to keep his hands to himself.”
Brows furrowing, Mick asked, “He got handsy with you?” He knows exactly who Barry's talking about now. Len and he'd met the sucker before. Always seemed to hit on any pretty thing, no matter the gender. It really burned him up, though, that he'd hit on the Doll. Barry was certainly pretty, but he was no one's “thing”.
The Speedster squirms uncomfortably. “His hands might've slipped a little while I was checking the a room for blood spatter.” Barry's cheeks are flushed with shame. “I um… had to bend over to make sure and…” he trails off.
A shadow falls over their table and they both look over to find a man from the next booth over standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at them. “Whatever you got, you deserved it,” the man spits angrily at Barry. “My wife and I are trying to have dinner, but we can't focus on it with you talking about that kind of shit, you slut.”
Mick watches as Barry's face pales and he looks away, shaking. He can see Barry's teeth sink into his lip.
Barry gathers himself and looks back at the man, trying to be polite. “I'm sorry. I'll try to keep it down.”
The man snorts with disdain. “You and your boyfriend can just go somewhere else if you're going to ruin dinner. No one wants to listen to a freak.”
Barry flinches back, and that's the last straw for Mick. He'd seethed silently, not wanting to lose control and end up roasting the ignorant sucker, but seeing Barry flinch? He hates to see the Doll hurt, and neither he nor Len are kind towards homophobic shits.
Mick turns his body, crossing his muscular arms and narrows his eyes at the man. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls. “You're the one who's ruining dinner. No one wants to listen to you rant about your homophobic shit. Keep it to yourself.”
Offended the man opens his mouth, but noting Mick's glare he pales a little. “Between me and him, I'd feel no remorse whatsoever from lighting your ass on fire and watching you burn,” Mick threatens in a low voice. He pulls out a lighter and flips it open, light from the flame dancing on his face. “It's a beautiful sight. Care to take a closer look?” He holds the lighter closer to the man.
“N-no!” the man stutters, looking frightened.
“Now, you're going to go back to your wife and stop interrupting our meal, or are we going to have another problem?” Mick questions, flicking the lighter closed and then open.
“No! No problem!” the man squeaks.
“Apologize to the Doll then,” Mick demands.
“Mick...” Barry tries to intervene, but the man turns to him and apologizes, looking smaller than before.
“Good. Now, get,” Mick commands, pleased with how the man stumbles back with haste.
Barry stares at Mick as the man retreats, swallowing as he tries to ignore looks from other patrons. For the most part, they look supportive and pleased with Mick's reaction, although he can see some of them look afraid as well. “You didn't have to do that,” Barry replies as the waitress comes over, setting Mick's tea down and refilling Barry's glass. She asks if everything's okay.
Absently, Mick grunts and tells the waitress what he wants.
“What would you like, Sweetie?” the waitress asks Barry, eyes sympathetic.
“U-um… I'd like the fried chicken special with macaroni and green beans. Oh! And the cheeseburger dinner with french fries and um… salad with Italian dressing?” Barry nibbles on his lip, wondering if it'll be enough. Oh, well. He can always order more later.
Barry blushes and nods, unable to hide his face as he hands the waitress his menu. “Don't worry,” she continues. “I'll be back with your food in just a bit.”
She leaves to refill the next booth where the man was and stumbles, sloshing cola on his shirt. “I'm terribly sorry, sir,” they hear her say as the man swears. “Really, so sorry.” She winks at them on her way into the kitchen.
Mick snorts. He decides he likes her.
“Thank you,” Barry says in a soft voice.
Mick's face softens and he smiles gently at Barry. “Anytime, Doll.”
Barry blushes, trying not to think about how much of a beautiful smile Mick has. “So how was your day?”
Shrugging, Mick takes a drink of his tea. “Boring. Lenny was too focused on some new research. Lisa made me cook her lunch.”
“And this 'research' is just research, isn't it?” Barry questions, smile playing on his lips.
Giving him a look, Mick replies, “Is it ever just research with him?”
Barry snorts, laughing. “No. I guess not. Just please tell me it's not the new exhibition at the Museum.”
“Do you want the honest truth or a lie?” Mick asks, grinning. He likes Barry's laugh, likes him being happy. It's a whole hell of a lot better than how he'd been when that dumbass had opened his mouth.
The waitress brings the food over in a surprisingly quick amount of time. Then again, Barry notices that the people in the diner are starting to trickle out and be replaced with others who are getting off work or taking a break for dinner. She had to have help bringing out all the food. “Just let me know if you need anything.”
There's little desire to talk more while they eat. Seems they were both really hungry; Barry more so than Mick, but still..
Mick watches Barry eat as he takes a bite of his steak. Barry seems quite focused on his meals. He wonders if Barry ever swallows before shoveling in more food. It's kind of adorable how the Speedster manages to get cheese and sauce on one side of his face and not even notice.
He's a little unsure about whether or not to say anything, but when Barry takes another bite of his cheeseburger and mustard gets added to the mix. He thinks it's probably best to put Barry out of his misery. “Doll.” Barry stops and looks up at him. Mick takes a napkin and give it to Barry, who just looks at it confused.
Mick taps his right cheek. “You've got something...”
Barry's eyes widen and he rubs the napkin...completely on the wrong side. Mick chuckles as Barry looks at the clear napkin with disappointment. “Here.” Mick takes the napkin from Barry's hand and carefully wipes the correct cheek clean.
Blushing furiously, Barry thanks Mick. 'Did that really just happen?' He looks away and takes a drink of his cola, staring into it as if it held the answers he sought.
Eating more careful this time, Barry worked his way through his two plates. The red tint to his cheeks felt a little more permanent than it should've been. He could almost feel Mick's touch against his cheek from when he cleaned Barry's face with the napkin. It was like static, and he kind of wanted to feel it more.
He is actually enjoying this, and he thinks Mick is too.
“How is everything?” the waitress asks when she returns, bright smile on her face.
“Delicious,” Barry replies, Mick giving an agreeing nod.
“Great! Would you like some dessert?” she questions, clearing some of the empty plates from the table.
Barry bites his lip. He does. He really does, but should he? He's already eaten more than he should've, and he really can't afford to spend much more on food, even if it's this good. “Just a coffee, please,” Barry replies, looking embarrassed and trying to hide how he really wants dessert.
“Slice of German chocolate cake,” Mick tells her. She nods and takes the dirty dishes away.
Eying him with envy, Barry finishes off his cola. He considers whether or not he could get away with getting dessert too, but all he has on him is $33. Already he knows that he's going to be using the entire of it for the food and tip. ...doesn't make him want that cake any less though.
Barry's chewing on his straw when the waitress returns with his coffee and Mick's delicious looking cake. She places their respective receipts in front of each of them and tells them to “have a good night”. He's surprised when the cake is suddenly pushed right in front of him.
Mick watches as Barry's brows furrow with confusion. His eyes shoot up, mouth opening in question. “Eat, Doll. You look like you could use it,” Mick tells him.
“B-but, are you sure?”
“Eat. I can afford it,” Mick assures him. He watches Barry nibble at his lower lip, a nervous gesture that he can't help but find utterly cute. The Speedster mutters a soft 'thanks' and digs in. To be honest, those moans he makes when he bites into the cake make Mick shift in his seat. It should be criminal to make those sounds looking as good as the Doll does.
Hands wrapped firmly around his empty cup, Mick watches Barry go from eating cake to drinking coffee and back again. His eyes taking in the beautiful face in front of him, listening to Barry savor the sweet dessert. It's somehow… perfect.
“That was amazing,” Barry tells Mick after he's finished the cake and coffee. They both shuffle out of the booth, checks in hand before leaving a tip on the table for the kind waitress.
“I could tell,” Mick retorts, grinning. “Sounded like you wanted to go steady with that cake.”
Cheeks reddening, Barry defends himself, “It was really, really good. You don't even know.”
Mick snorts. “As long as you enjoyed it, Doll.” They pay one at a time. Barry waves to the waitress when she thanks them and tells them to come again sometime. “We will,” Mick murmurs.
Outside the diner, Barry turns to Mick, raising an eyebrow. “'We will'?”
“If you'd like to,” Mick gruffly states.
Barry blinks. “You mean… as friends, or em… like a date-date?” He fidgets anxiously, fingers twisting into his shirt. “B-because I'd like either one. It's just that you're extremely attractive, a-and I'm not, but you- you totally are. I mean, I definitely find you attractive -and I'm just going to shut up now.” He looks down, face hot.
“Not friends,” Mick bluntly states, eyes trailing after each of Barry's movements. When Barry looks back up at him, he smiles gently and reaches out, cupping his cheek. “I find you plenty attractive, and I'd love to date-date you, if you don't mind me.”
Eyes fixed on Mick's gorgeous ones, Barry licks his lips, leaning into Mick's palm. He loves the feel of Mick's calloused hand on his cheek. “I'd love to.” His lips twitch. “So, it's a date?”
“Damn right, Doll,” Mick answers, grinning as he kisses Barry's forehead. “It's a date.”