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To say the last few weeks had left Barry Allen feeling adrift and off balance would eclipse the definition of understatement. He had felt he was finally moving past his feelings for Iris with a strong, independent, funny woman who shared his love of all things geek, only to lose her to….well, many factors, but furthering her education in another town was literally the last thing he’d expected. He had allowed his trust and paranoia issues to get in the way and it cost him his relationship with Patty. He admitted to himself that it made no sense that he was willing to tell even Linda Park that he was The Flash, but was conflicted about sharing it with the woman he was possibly falling in love with. Yeah, he feared for her safety, but there were so many others around him that the homicidal speedster called Zoom could prey upon to bring Barry pain - what were the odds that Patty would be the one he would pick to bring Barry to his knees? Yet Barry had obsessed on it until it gave him nightmares and finally cost him his relationship. And the ultimate irony? She’d figured it out. After he’d pushed her away, been cold and distant to her, not willing to meet her eyes or even let her touch him…she found out who he was anyway. And by then, it was too late. She knew he had never truly believed in her enough to tell her the truth. Never believed in their relationship enough.

Of course the continuing array of super powered assholes Zoom was sending through the rift portal at Star Labs wasn't helping his confidence either. All the distractions in his life were making it harder for him to think on his feet, and he kept doing stupid shit like running straight into The Turtle’s slowing pulse waives instead of thinking ahead about how to get around them. It had almost cost Patty her life. Twice. When Cicso had asked him after he’d barely saved Patty the second time, “Dude. What the frack is up with you?”, Barry had wondered exactly that himself.

Normally he would seek out Iris or Joe to get some grounding, but talking to Iris about being dumped made him feel uncomfortable, and Joe, well Joe had an instant son he was now trying to forge a relationship with. An endeavor proving to be harder than even the detective had expected it might. Barry felt horrible for Joe, but was keeping his distance because he wanted to give Wally room to bond with his dad. Wally seemed to innately resent Barry because he had been raised by Joe while Wally had grown up without his own father in his life. Barry knew Joe would have taken the time to try and help him, and would probably not be happy with him keeping his distance out of some sense of guilt, but Barry was doing it anyway.

And even though his own father had come home recently to help Barry after his disastrous fight with Zoom, Henry Allen had now gone back to whatever corner of the planet he was currently exploring, leaving his son alone again.

Cisco and Caitlin were colleagues and good friends, but everything still felt too raw and personal to approach them with all of this. He needed someone with a little more life experience under their belt to try and get his inner compass back. Because at the moment, Barry certainly felt directionless.

In Barry’s personal and professional orbit, that really left only one person he could consider confiding in. A person who was brisk, cool, generally unfriendly, and wore the face of his mother’s killer. The face of yet another life Eobard Thawne had stolen. That of Barry’s personal hero, Dr. Harrison Wells. Except his “hero” had never been the true Wells at all. And now his doppelgänger from a completely different Earth was obsessively moving about S.T.A.R. Labs, engaged in desperately trying to come up with a way to help Barry defeat Zoom and to save his daughter, Jessie, who was currently being held captive through the rifts on this Dr. Well’s Earth. Jesus, could things get more fucked up and complicated?

Oh yeah, that’s right. They could. Barry tried to bury it as deep as he could in his memory and emotions, but the truth was that despite everything, his Wells had been a teacher, a mentor.

A lover.

It started after Barry had attacked Iris’ boyfriend, Eddie, while under the influence of Roy Bivolo, the meta human who could amplify other people’s anger. He felt such overwhelming guilt that he’d come to Wells…Thawne…for a sympathetic ear. What started as a need to try and make some sense of the crazy shit happening in his life had ending up with Wells holding him while he cried his eyes out. Barry could now see that this was the point where he had been carefully manipulated to fall for Thawne. By the time Wells had seemingly been nearly beaten half to death by the man in the yellow suit, Barry’s protective instincts went into literal overdrive. As did his libido. Any and every place the two of them could find time to fuck, they took advantage of it. In the wheelchair. In Barry’s bedroom at Joe’s house. Even in a meta-human containment unit at one point.

It was only after evidence kept mounting that Wells was the Reverse Flash that Barry’s scientific brain began to finally override his emotions. But he couldn’t suddenly stop having sex with the other man or he might give away their suspicions and put the team in danger. That was it, wasn’t it? There could be no other reason why he’d still allow the bastard who’d killed his mom to still be touching him, kissing him, screwing him into the mattress on Well’s king size bed…

And it cut more than Barry would ever admit, even to himself, when the young man had asked Thawne for a reason why he’d done all the horrible, unforgivable things he’d done, and Thawne had simply replied, “Because I hate you”.

Despite accepting that this Harrison Wells was not Eobard Thawne, his very presence during the first few weeks he’d been on their Earth had made Barry uncomfortable. This Wells was off-putting, rude, and arrogant as hell. They’d caught him not so much lying as giving half truths a lot of the time, and even after forgiving “his” Wells while observing this complete other person hard at work in Cicso’s lab, Harry, as Cisco had taken to calling him, still made Barry somewhat uneasy.

So why the flying hell was Barry here now, in S.T.A.R. Labs, hoping that Wells would be willing to listen to him vent, let alone offer anything bordering on compassionate advice? He watched as Harry wrote formulas on a plexiglass board, trying to figure out how he was going to approach the older man. Wells had almost a restless energy that Barry assumed was borne of frustration and concern for his daughter, but it made it fascinating to watch him work. To see his eyes narrow and the bridge of his nose tighten in concentration. To see those too familiar hands flutter across the board writing formulas. To see a hint of tummy peek out from under his sweater when he stretched his hand up to the top of the board to make a note on it.

Barry took advantage of the opportunity and indulged in a lingering look at the light hair trailing into the waist of Well’s pants. When the sweater moved back into it’s normal position, Barry’s eyes traveled up the slim form to discover he was being watched by a pair of crystal blue eyes. Wells kept eye contact as he capped and put down the grease pen, stepping away from the board and walking to the opening of the room where Barry stood.

“Do you need me for something, Allen?” he asked, pausing in the doorway. Harry still hadn’t looked away.

All ideas of how he wanted to phrase his first sentence abandoned Barry in an instant. All he could manage to get out was, “Um, yeah. I uh…yeah.” He nervously rubbed the fingers of his right hand back and forth across the back of his neck, feeling like a schoolboy caught sneaking a peak at his secret crush.

Wells raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as he stepped into the room. ‘What is it? I’m assuming you came to speak to me, not stare at me all day.”

The snide comment embarrassed Barry enough to to pull him out of his brain fog. His own tone of voice sharpened. “Yes, I needed…someone to talk to, but not if you’re going to be an ass.” Barry paused and mock slapped himself on the forehead.

“What am I saying? You’re always an ass.” Barry moved to turn and leave when Wells held up a hand to forestall him.

"Allen, wait."

Wells looked down and ran a hand through his hair. It looked wild and unkempt, soft curls lifting up under his fingertips. He rubbed his eyes under the rim of his glasses then adjusted them back on his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and annoyed because my calculations aren’t going anywhere, and I’m –“ He sighed in resignation and crossed his arms again.

“Never mind. I need a break and you need assistance, so please.” He gestured to a nearby desk chair. “Have a seat. What can I help you with? Did you have questions about The Turtle’s power effecting your abilities long term? Perhaps discuss better fighting techniques to avoid getting caught in power fields in the future?”

Barry chuckled and shook his head. “Have a seat,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for your kind permission, considering this isn’t even your S.T.A.R. Labs.” He declined to sit down. “I’m not here for help - I don’t need anything having to do with my speed. I just needed to talk to someone who would listen to me, let me get some shit off my chest, and maybe give me a little advice. I was thinking you might be willing, but I keep forgetting that you’re only here because it’s mutually beneficial for you to help us stop Zoom. You’re not my friend. You don’t even qualify as a mentor, really.”

Barry stood huffing in anger, but the insult didn’t seem to phase Wells at all. Instead, he seemed to be gauging Barry’s emotions, contemplating a response. As was his wont when considering how to phrase something, Wells stretched out his arms and put them back behind his head, interlocking his fingers to keep them there. Despite being pissed at him, Barry’s eyes again were drawn to Well’s exposed midsection, hungry at the sight. What the doctor thought he might have seen in the other room was now on full, undisguised display before him. Well, Harry thought, wasn’t this interesting?

“You were looking for me to be your mentor, Allen?” Wells asked, lowering his arms, “Or perhaps a father figure? Because I think you have two too many of those already, don’t you?” Wells slowly moved around the console that separated them, removing his glasses and purposely reestablishing eye contact with Barry. His usual determined strides now seemed sensual as he propelled himself forward, leading the walk from his hips instead of his shoulders, looking very much to Barry like a big cat stalking it’s prey.

“I think you’re looking for me to be…quite something else where you’re concerned.”

Barry clenched his jaw, determined not to look away from the knowing eyes locked with his. As Wells got closer Barry raised his chin in defiance, refusing to back away or even flinch as the other man stepped into his personal space.

“Well, Barry.” Harry purposely used his first name and noticed the slightest shiver pass over the younger man. “Just what exactly do you want from me?” Wells moved impossibly closer, his full lips brushing against the very outside of Barry’s ear. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And why would you think I’d be willing to give it?”

“You’re a prick,” Barry growled, but didn’t move to escape the closeness of their bodies, something both men knew he could do in an instant. He stayed rooted in place, fists clenching at his sides.

“So I’ve been told.”

Harry chuckled, now using his tongue to follow the same line his mouth had taken earlier along Barry’s ear. The shiver that ran through the speedster became almost a humming vibration. “Tell me, Barry Allen. What can I do to help you unburden yourself?”

He slowly began to circle the other man’s body, tracing a barely perceptible finger along it as he moved.

“Give you a slow, agonizing hand job?”

The finger touched the seam of a pocket by the front zipper of Barry’s jeans. His vibration became more pronounced.

“Sink to my knees and give you not only a spectacular blow job, but work your balls into my mouth, and perhaps rim you as well?”

The finger traced up the back seam of the denim and Barry’s breath hitched in his throat four times in rapid succession. Harry could see his control was almost ready to shatter, and purposely moved back around to be face to face before dropping the bomb.

“Or…I could punish the guilt, hurt and uncertainty out of you.”

Barry seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. His eyes were wide open and beginning to water at the outer edges.

“Think about it, Allen. I would have you strip naked in front of me, turn you over my knees, and spank you with my bare hand until that perfect, tight ass of yours was as red as your face is right now. As red as that suit you wear that not only liberates you, but ties you down as well. Isn’t that what this is all about, Barry?” Harry's face held no contempt, no ridicule, no judgement.

“About trying to reconcile the two sides of yourself so that you’re at peace with them both? Be comfortable in your own skin for the first time since the asshole who changed you forever tore you apart, just so he could rebuild you? Forgive yourself for ever letting him in?"

Barry was openly crying now as he shook from anger, frustration, and arousal. His hands were no longer forming fists, but hanging limp at his sides. It took several seconds catching his breath before he felt he could form words.

“Please. I...need your help, “ he begged, his voice very quiet in the middle of the large, central room of the lab that had been a second home to him for little more than a year.

"Whose help, Barry?" Wells voice was equally as soft, but it demanded clarification before he was willing to move forward.

Barry was now the one to step past the other man’s personal barrier. His hands grasped at the black sweater, pulling Wells forward against his body.

“Your help, Harry Wells. Only you.”