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Barry almost doesn’t hear the soft, startled murmur.

“Poing,” Eobard breathes.

What the hell? Barry turns, fixes his lover with a puzzled stare. Clear blue eyes meet Barry’s in return; Eobard’s face is impassive.

He almost lets it go. Yet as he begins to turn back to the computer simulation he’s running, Barry realizes that Eobard has rather hurriedly placed a table in between himself and Barry’s questioning gaze. No, that word doesn’t mean what I think it means.

If he moves quickly enough he might be able to… there! A quick burst of speed puts Barry just three feet from Eobard and to the older speedster’s right.

It also confirms his suspicions.


Dirty speedster.