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Christmas 2015 is turning out to be much better than Oliver could ever dream of it being, and it is barely nine AM- he’s just woken up to a warm body beside him, breathing and smiling down at him.
“Good morning,” Barry says, and Oliver smiles right back, cosy and happy in a way he hasn’t been for a long time.
“Really good,” Oliver answers, and Barry laughs, shaking his head and kissing his forehead (last night had been one of the few times Oliver let himself be the little spoon, let himself be reminded that he deserves to be taken care of, too).
They keep their position for a few minutes after- Oliver with his face buried in Barry’s chest and Barry with his arms around him-, until Barry starts to get restless and his stomach starts to growl; it’s nearing noon, too, and Oliver would be concerned about waking up so late if he weren’t so damn comfy.
Barry pulls away with one last kiss to Oliver’s forehead (because morning breath kisses are a no-no for him) and Oliver honest to god almost whines. “Come on,” Barry says around a yawn, smile returning to his face for Oliver. “We gotta get ready. Still’ve to buy some stuff for Joe’s tonight, remember?” and damn, this time Oliver does whine. Barry laughs at him, shaking his head (although Oliver knows he silently shares the sentiment, because nobody knows how much joe dislikes Oliver better than Barry himself).
Oliver pulls himself away from the warmth of the bed almost painstakingly, silently mourning the loss of the moment, and he would have been more difficult if Barry hadn’t offered to share the shower.
When the evening comes- after a round or two of shower sex and raspberry pancakes- and Oliver has followed Barry around the entirety of Walmart in over five hours- Barry and Oliver are dressed in coordinated suits and ties, standing in front of the West house door.
And they are, as always, over half an hour late.
West glares at Oliver over Barry’s shoulder but still shakes his hand, under Barry’s scrounging gaze. They exchange pleasantries at the entryway but West doesn’t look at him otherwise, which Oliver counts as a win (because, okay, disapproving parents have never been Oliver’s forte, and as used to them as he may be, they do not get any easier), and when they go inside almost everyone is there already.
They greet Oliver warmly, as they always do, and Barry, too; conversation flows freely among all of them, sometimes stopping at Oliver only to be picked up by Barry or vice-versa. It’s easier than Oliver thought it would be, since their relationship is still news to Barry’s family and team, but instead it feels… natural, in a way that no one else had ever felt for him, not even Laurel. It’s a nice change of scenery- after not celebrating Christmas for almost eight years straight, it feels nice to at least have this normalcy back in his life.
Barry’s hand is warm in his own, and Oliver squeezes it because he can, in the middle of a conversation with Garrick- about the Green Arrow on his Earth, how it was Oliver’s father to make it to the island and come back home- and smiles inwardly when Barry squeezes back. It’s the simple gestures like this one that have him going shaky on the knees, giddy to have something like this (something he’s always wanted and never let himself have). Garrick’s looking at him oddly, then, but then he smiles softly and shakes his head. “You two are cute together,” he says, eyes straying towards the back of Barry’s head and then back to Oliver’s own. “Just, Oliver? Please don’t hurt him. He doesn’t deserve it. Or we’ll make sure you regret it.”
Alright, this is the last person he expected to get a shovel talk from, but Oliver was honestly waiting for it, and he has a feeling that that we refers to more than only Garrick and West. So he nods, and in the same low voice Garrick used he says, “If I hurt him, I promise not to fight back,” and earns a grin and a nod from Garrick.
Just then Barry turns back towards him, smile brighter than the sun itself, and Oliver grins. “You have good friends,” he says, because he really is impressed (and incredibly glad).
Barry tilts his head. “Yeah,” he says, smile falling into something softer, teasing rather than anything. “I know. They finally give you their speech?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“They had a speech?” Oliver asks, amused, and Barry finally laughs, loud enough for iris’ head to turn towards them and smile.
“Oh yeah,” Barry says, chuckling. “It involved Cisco brooding and a bunch of death threats. I guess they went for the other one?”
Oliver snorts at the idea of Cisco trying to be intimidating and nods. “Garrick did. Dunno about the others.”
Barry nods, but his smile is still teasing when he changes the topic of conversation. Oliver’s paying attention to him, honest, though his eyes roam around the room and catch Caitlin’s (who smiles softly and nods approvingly), West’s (who frowns and looks away, back into conversation with Iris and Wally- Oliver notices Barry’s eyes on the three of them constantly, worried), and Wally’s (who had come in no more than twenty minutes ago, nervous but confident. Oliver grins and nods at him when he does, and then looks way when West starts glaring again).
Dinner goes by swimmingly, awkwardness saved by Wally’s arrival; Oliver speaks with him out of curiosity, learns about his love for science and thinks that he and Barry will get along just fine, after all. In the end, when it’s time to go back to Oliver’s hotel, West nods and shakes his hand again then hugs Barry, and they’re on their way, right after Cisco leaves.
“Did you have fun?” Barry asks later, once they’re in the room, and Oliver nods.
“Yeah,” he says, removing his coat and Barry’s. “I like your family. Thank you for letting me spend Christmas with you, Barry.”
Barry smiles at him. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, walking over and kissing him softly, flirtingly. “But if you want to…” he says, taking Oliver’s tie and going to remove it. “…there’s a few ways I can think of that we will both enjoy.”
Oliver smirks down at him, kisses him again, this time hard and heated.
He thanks whatever power that’s up there for everything, after, lying beside Barry in post coital bliss; he turns to him, then, smiling, and whispers, “I love you.”
Barry laughs and kisses his shoulder. “Me too,” he says. “I love you too,” and yeah, his dreams could never compare to this.