Working Legs (Pt. 2) [a Barry Allen AU]
Request(s): ‘You can do another au of working legs’ + ‘Can you do a send part to working legs please’
a/n: and the saga continues…
| Part 1 |
Barry has never hated himself more than he did at this moment. Test tubes are scattered around the lab and he can’t do anything except call for someone. Carefully, he maneuvers himself through the shards of glass, towards the phone hanging on the wall. He reaches up, snatching the slick black phone handle and holds it to his ear, aggressively dialing a number.
“Joe.” he breathes through gritted teeth, scrutinizing the trail of vibrant blue and green liquid on the concrete. Damn shelves. Who the fuck put his equipment up so high? “I made a mess.” Again, he thinks, nostrils blowing out hot air. “I made a fucking mess, Joe, and I can’t clean it up.” he seethes, his hold on the phone tightens, causing it to creak.
A long, drawn out sigh comes from the other end and there’s a shuffle of papers, making Barry flinch away from the earpiece. “I’ll get a mop!” Eddie’s voice echoes, sounding vaguely like Jack Frost from Santa Clause 3. Of course Eddie would be right there. Eddie’s always there to help him.
Joe watches the blond detective race around the office, trying to find a mop. A twitch of a smile might have teased his lips. Might. He shakes his head, rolling his wrist and putting the phone back to his ear. “Barr, you still there?” There’s a grunt of a ‘yes’; Eddie raises the newfound mop above his head, smiling while he points downstairs. Joe nods, sending the blond off. “Eddie’s on his way right now, Barr. It’s all good. Okay? Okay, I’m hanging up now. Okay, okay.” he sighs, hanging the phone up and slumping in his seat.
Barry hooks the head of the phone on the holder, folding his arms across his gray V-neck. In a few minutes, like his foster dad said, Eddie is there, slightly out of breath. His chest rises up, his plaid green button down stretching underneath his suit jacket as he beams at the scientist. “I’m here! I brought a mop! It’s okay!” He holds out the mop for emphasis; the thick dirty white strands sway in the air.
Nodding his head, Barry sends a tiny grin to him, watching the mop hit the floor with a thud. “Thanks, Eddie.”
“No problem, accidents happen, man.” he reassures, pushing the cleaning tool back and forth; Barry doesn’t know much about cleaning, but he’s fairly sure Eddie’s just spreading the liquid around instead of wiping it up. “How ‘bout you go clear your head, Barr? Go take a walk - those were a poor choice of words, I’m sorry.” he apologizes, cringing in on himself.
Barry waves the comment off, wheeling towards the elevator, “Yeah, I need a… drive, I guess. Thanks again, Eddie, I really appreciate it.” His long finger clicks the smooth round ‘up’ button and the elevator dings almost instantly, the shiny silver doors sliding to both sides. Nudging the joystick forward, his wheelchair spins into the ‘big metal death trap’ as the blond detective had once put it, Barry clicks the bottom floor, frowning while Eddie mops. The elevator doors close just as fast as they open, showing the main lobby.
His wheels screech against the polished marble floor when he heads to the double doors. Like every time, he flings the glass door, propping it open with his elbow while he speeds outside. Funny word; speeds. It reminds Barry of his superspeed; the superspeed he once had before the bullet entered his spine. He only had it for a couple hours and just like that, it was gone and so were his functioning legs.
Cool autumn air skids across his face as he drives through the busy streets. This is actually helping him. He focuses on the dry leaves dancing in the wind and for a second, just for a second, he feels ‘normal’. But that second ends when he realizes he’s not moving; his hand is pushing the joystick, but his chair’s not moving. Because it’s dead. Because Barry forgot to plug the damn thing in before he went to bed last night.
For the second time today, angry tears well in his grass green eyes. Slamming his fist on the foam armrest, he steadies his elbow on the other, index finger under his lips and thumb dipped under his chin. Well, this has been a really shitty day. Breathing in heavily, he shuts his eyelids, remembering his phone…is in the lab. So, he can’t even call for help. Fucking…
“Barry!” He cracks an eye open to see you holding a cup of coffee. His gaze trails down your body, starting from your cute little plum beanie that had a bow on the side, then your matching petticoat, ending at your tight black dress pants. “Barry? Are you alright? You seem angry. Aren’t you cold?” you ramble, your pale pink glossy lips in a tiny pout. An adorable tiny pout.
Wind blows at a high speed, snapping him back to reality. In his fit of rage, he forgot his jacket, and all he has is this thin V-neck, which scrunches just below his elbows. Heaving a sigh, he slumps back in his chair. “My, um, my chair died and I…I left my phone and my jacket at the lab.” he grumbles, scrubbing his face with the heels of his hands. “But, you’re probably on your way - wait, it’s nearly one o’clock, shouldn’t you be at the school, yanno, teaching?” he quips, cocking an eyebrow.
You smile sheepishly, taking a sip of your steaming drink. “It was a half day today…” you mumble, coddling your paper cup in between your thin gloves, which match your hat. You bounce on the heels of your sky blue flats. “Do you, I mean, I could push you back to the police department? Only if you want! Or I could go get Joe or someone? Unless you totally don’t want my help. Which is absolutely fine.” Your cheeks flush at the word vomit you just produced.
He scratches the back of his neck, opening and closing his mouth. Maybe his day is looking brighter. “If you - if you don’t mind pushing me to the CCPD, that would be fantastic, but you don’t have to…” he stumbles over his words, peering at the crack in the sidewalk. He would be lying if he said this isn’t embarrassing.
Your flats step against the ground lightly, taking you behind Barry’s chair. “Not at all. It’s my pleasure! I mean, not that this…this is good or anything, I’m just happy to help!” you beam, shaking your head at yourself as you try to move him forward. But nothing happens. Are you really that weak? He doesn’t look like he’s that heavy…
“Oh! Wait!” he winces, turning around at the same time you bend down. Your lips touch his nose, causing an awkward giggle to drip from his mouth. You pull away, grinning at the vibrant pink lipstick stain now on the tip of his slanted nose. “There’s these two levers on both sides, by the wheels and, um, you just gotta flip them to ‘manual’ instead of ‘automatic’. Sorry, forgot to tell you.” he mumbles, scolding himself mentally.
Nodding your head, you peek down at the wheels. “That’s okay! Here, could you hold my coffee? I think I’ll need both my hands to push, yanno? And I don’t want to spill my hot coffee on your wheelchair - that would not be good!” He hums, holding out his hands to grip the paper cup. “Don’t drink it on me.” you joke, yanking the lever on the left side up then the lever on the right side.
He laughs; airy and free of anger as you begin pushing. It’s not as heavy as before, thankfully. “I wouldn’t drink your coffee; no matter how heavenly it smells. Besides, I think I kinda owe you one for doing this.” He gazes around, catching a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. “Thank you, by the way. I was - I was fucked to say the least.” he mutters, seeing the big golden CCPD sign getting closer and closer.
“No, you don’t owe me. You needed help and I was there, so I helped. I’m sure you would have to, if I was the one who needed help.” you explain, crinkling your brows together. Barry doesn’t say a word after that, neither do you.
When you get up the ramp, he’s practically shivering. Eddie meets you at the door, hands on his hips, pushing his jacket behind him, showing off his flashy badge that’s clipped to his pants. “You know, Barry, when I said take a drive, I didn’t mean go across the city!” he laughs, drawing his gaze to you, “I can take it from here. Thanks.” he smiles, removing his hands from his hips; sleek dress shoes scuffing on the sidewalk.
You automatically let go of the handlebars, letting the detective take over. Barry holds out your coffee cup, peering up at you with big bright green puppy dog eyes. “Oh, my coffee! Thank you, Barry, I almost forgot!” you praise, grabbing the cup from his long, cold fingers. The dings of the clocktower catch your attention and your eyes widen comically. “Is that the time?! Shoot! I have PT meeting soon!” You turn to Barry, “I’m so sorry, I have to go! I’ll see you later - hey, maybe we could get coffee? I mean, not now, but -”
“Friday? After school ends?” Barry offers hopefully, completely by passing the fact that Eddie’s still there. (He can wait, Barry decides) You nod, taking your phone from your coat pocket; he enters his number. A blinding smile blossoms on your face and for a moment Barry forgets how to breathe. “You probably should go! I - You don’t want to be late, right?” he all but whispers; you sigh, saying goodbye and leaving in a rush. Barry totally does not watch your ass as you walk away. God, stop thinking that.
While pushing the wheelchair inside, Eddie snorts, fingers rapping on the foam covering the handlebars. A sly smirk crosses his lips, “So… Miss Y/L/N, huh?” he questions in a suggestive tone.
Barry huffs, slumping in his seat, “Shut up, Eddie.” he grunts under his breath. Eddie notices the pink lipstick mark on the tip of his nose but doesn’t say anything.