Chapter Text
The Bug Man, as Barry has named it, was starting to piss him the fuck off. Not because the Bug Man was necessarily hard to beat, but he was gross. Barry hated bugs, first and foremost, as well as being scared of most. Lady bugs and rolly pollies? Not an issue!
But is the Bug Man shooting ladybugs and butterflies from his body? Of course not! That’d be too easy! He's made of spiders and centipedes and takes joy of hearing Barry scream everything he shoots them at Barry.
At this point, Barry might as well stay behind Bruce. He’s useless otherwise.
“How you holding up, kid?” Bruce asks as Arthur sends ocean water over the Bug Man, spraying the 60 ft tall thing in water.
How was he holding up? That was a joke, right? Wasn’t Bruce there when Barry was mentioning everything he was afraid of, which included bugs? (And swimming!) He can’t do disgusting bugs, he just can’t, so it’d make perfect sense for a giant made of literal bugs to start attacking a public park. How fucking cliched, too.
God, Barry was so not okay. Bugs just freaked him out too much. Why couldn’t he be the Butterfly Man? Or-or-or the Hot Dog Guy? Anything but bugs, anything but bugs!
“Um, I’m kinda struggling,” Barry yells, squealing as the Bug Man shoots a hurricane of bugs at him. Barry dodges, of course, but screams while doing so and runs to duck behind Bruce. Again.
The beginning of a panic attack starts to take over him, which is not good, not very good, not very good at all, but it’s bugs, it’s fucking bugs and Barry can’t- he can’t- Oh no, not here, not now?
“Kid?” Bruce asks, but Barry’s shaking, vibrating up and down, up and down, bugs, bugs everywhere-
And then they’re gone.
A blast by Clark has the Bug Man exploding, thousands of thousands of dead bugs flying everywhere. It’s gross, but the bugs are dead so he can’t piece himself together. Clean up will be disgusting, but it’s over, it’s all over.
“Breathe, kid,” Bruce whispers into his ear.
Bruce. Batman. Right.
Bruce grabs Barry’s hand and the warmness spreads over Barry, head to toes, head to toes.
“It’s over, kid. You did great.”
By the time the rest of his teammates are back on the ground, Barry has stopped vibrating up and down, but he still looks a little green.
“Why don’t we get cleaned up?” Bruce suggests.
It’s so unlike them to all go back to Bruce’s place after a battle. Usually they all go their separate ways, but no way Clark wants to go back to Louis covered in bugs and bugs guts, and Arthur wouldn’t ever think to bring that into his ocean.
There’s an agreement mumbled from their team and as they start to walk towards Bruce’s batmobile, Barry can’t help but ask, “Hey, Victor, do you shower? Or would the water mess up your wiring? Or are you waterproof? Do you just use baby wipes? I-”
“Man, shut up,” Victor tells him, and Barry smiles, run pasts everyone and calls, “Shotgun!”
“There’s some guest rooms down the hall to your left.” Bruce points with his hand and the others turn to go. Barry starts to follow but Bruce calls back, “Barry.”
Barry stops, turns back, head cocked in confusion? Was Bruce going to ask him what happened out on the field? Because really, it was a one time thing, really, Barry can handle himself, he’s not a baby and it won’t happen again-
“There’s only four guest bedroom’s down that way. You can take the red room on the right wing.” He starts to point.
Relief watches through Barry. He sighs in relief and zooms off, checking out the room before bouncing back right as Bruce lowers his hand.
Barry will never get over the fact that Barry gets his own personal guest room. Or the fact that Bruce is rich enough to afford all his guests their own guest rooms.
Bruce blinks. “Uh, let me know if you need anything.”
“This is cool! Thank you so much, I really appreciate it, especially since the heat’s been off for like, two months but I use so much heat running anyway so it’s like-”
“Barry.”
“Uh-huh, yeah Bruce?”
“Take a shower. You stink.”
Barry does finger guns at him before running to the guest room that’s the coolest. And probably met for a teenager or a young kid, which is why Bruce probably left it for Barry, but Barry doesn’t mind. It’s fucking cool.
The walls are a red instead of a boring white, the bed is pushed against a corner instead of in the middle, there’s a TV on the wall with like, three game consoles hooked up, the laundry basket has a basketball hoop that’s attached to a closet door, and the bed is only a twin. It’s a cool, decked out room, but it makes him feel a little bit weird.
Was this intended for a child? It can’t be, because the bed is perfectly made and doesn’t look like it has ever been slept in, and those game consoles are shiny and brand new. It’s a cool room, but it looks like nobody’s been in here.
Barry doesn’t put much more thought into it before he ducks into the adjoining bathroom. He chucks his clothes and notices another basketball hoop attached to the inside of the bathroom door. He kind of gets a great joy out of tossing them in.
Then he hops into the shower and works on getting the bug juices out of . . . everything.
---
When he’s done, he notices an issue. There’s nothing for him to change into. His hair is dripping wet, and the towel wrapped around his lower half does nothing to protect him against the cold air. But he can’t put his suit back on. It’s not comfortable to sleep in, and it’s covered in bug juices anyway.
Maybe there’s something in the closest, he supposes, so he steps out of the bathroom and nearly screams when he’s sees Bruce sitting on the bed.
“What-jesus fuck-Bruce!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bruce deadpans.
Barry glares him a few more seconds before his grins breaks out. Something about Bruce always makes him smile and he really can’t help it. Bruce is just so amazing, and he could never actually be mad at him.
“Not a problem, no really, you just scared me, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Barry always feels like his adrenaline goes into hyper drive when he nears Bruce, and right now he just wants to run around the room to let go of some energy.
Bruce pulls a stack of clothes from behind him and presents them to Barry. “Pajamas for tonight and clothes for tomorrow.”
“Hey, thanks! Really, I didn’t want to sleep naked but my suit is absolutely disgusting and I don't have any other clothes.”
Bruce gives him a patient smile. “I figured. That’s why I brought them. I’ll take the suit though, Alfred will watch it for you.”
Barry smiles and walks back into the bathroom to grab the disgusting suit. He holds it out to Bruce. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Have a nice night. Let me know if you need anything, I’m right next door.”
Bruce gets up and walks away but Barry stops him. “Hey Bruce?”
Bruce turns. “Yes, Barry?”
Barry bites his lip, debating. All the others are in the west wing, but Barry and Bruce are in the right wing. Why though? It doesn’t feel right to ask, but he’s dying to know . . .
“Um, just out of curiosity, why are all the other rooms in the other wing, but not this one?”
He knows he shouldn’t have asked the minute a dark expression crosses Bruce’s face. He wants to take it back, wants to slap himself for always talking without speaking, what’s wrong with him, why does he always-
“It’s not a guest room,” Bruce says after a moment.
Oh. But then what was it? It looks like a kids room if he’s being honest, but Bruce doesn’t have any kids.
“But-”
“You should dress before you get a cold,” Bruce says, then promptly leaves the room.
Okayyyy, note taken. Not a topic that needs to be discussed, apparently. Barry’s never been one to dwell on personal matters. He shrugs and chucks on the pajama bottoms. He always feels constricted by having a shift, but he gets too cold without bottoms. They’re a bit big on him but they’re fleece and feels warm against his skin.
He sighs in pleasure, and turns off the light before diving into bed. He's so warm and so tired and he hadn’t realize how tired he was from the fight, that disgusting, nasty fight and he was soooo cozy . . .
It feels like he’s only got ten minutes of sleep before he’s shooting up in bed. He looks around, trying to find what suddenly jerked him away when he hears it again: a scream, not necessarily loud but enough to hear it from next door.
Bruce.
Barry is out of bed and into Bruce’s room in less than a microsecond. Another time, Barry would marvel at Bruce’s gigantic room and the fact that his bed is bigger than Barry’s apartment, but then he sees Bruce, twisting and turning, face contorted.
The bed is in front of a gigantic wall of window, and the moon is shining straight onto Bruce’s chest.
“Bruce?” Barry whispers hesitantly.
Bruce justs murmurs in his sleep and twists over. Barry’s no stranger to nightmares, he has plenty himself, but he remembers how alone he always feels during them, or when he wakes up in his hideout and he’s alone with no one to comfort him.
Before he knows it, he’s shaking Bruce awake. Bruce gasps and sits up, nearly smacking his head on Barry’s forehead.
“What-Barry? I-What?” Bruce is confused, rightfully so, and Barry regrets his decisions instantly. What was he thinking? He totally just invaded Bruce’s private space and this was wrong, so wrong-
“Barry?” Bruce asks again, and rubs his eyes, letting the blanket fall and rest around his lap.
Barry frowns. “I’m sorry, I heard you screaming, and I was confused and I just-well, I know what’s it’s like, nightmares I mean, and I hate being alone so I figured you hate being alone but that was probably wrong so-”
“Barry, it’s okay.”
Barry stops talking, wishing for just once he can glue his fucking mouth shut. Bruce is staring at him and thankfully he doesn’t look mad, just . . . there’s something Barry can’t quite place.
“I’m sorry,” Barry says again.
“Don’t be. I’m sorry I woke you.”
Barry bites his lips and balances on his toes. He’s not sure if he should leave or stay. Probably leave. He already intruded enough.
“It was my son’s room.”
And that was very unexpected. “What?” Barry asks dumbly.
“Your room You asked me why this room was next to mine while the others were in the other wing. It was my son’s room.”
“I-I,” Barry stutters. He scratches his head, then blinks some more. “I didn’t know-”
Bruce sighs and gets up from the bed, revealing plaid pajama bottoms. He sits at the end and pats the spot next to him, indicating Barry should sit next to him.
Barry plops down, feeling weird. Not only did he intrude on Bruce’s personal space, he’s now apparently having a heart to heart with him, too. It just feels very weird and awkward and he should have-
“My son died years ago by the Joker’s hand.”
A cold shock runs through Barry. He didn’t even knew Bruce had a son. And now his son his dead? But not just dead, murdered by the Joker of all people. “Oh.” What was Barry supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry . . .” That’s not right but he just doesn’t know what else to say . . .
Bruce waves him off. “It was years ago. But I do miss him. I was just relieving a memory.”
And Barry can’t relate to losing a son, but he can relate to memories so he wraps his arms around Bruce on instinct and then freezes.
In that moment it’s just Bruce and Barry in an awkward side hug. Barry can hear his heart pounding and knows Bruce can hear it.
They pull apart and Bruce smiles, a sad half smile that has Barry’s stomach lurching. Suddenly he feels a million emotions at once, something about the way the moon shines on Bruce’s chest, the way his eyes are so bright.
He never considered Bruce as anything but a mentor, as somebody to look up to, a hero, but now-
“It was very nice of you, Barry, to come check on me.”
The way Barry’s name rolls of Bruce’s tongue sends shivers down Barry’s body. It feels like everything is on hyper alert. He can see everything, the moon, the specks on Bruce’s windows, the tiles, the dents in the nightstand.
He can feel his heart beating rapidly out of his chest.
He really has no idea what’s going on.
“It’s no big, uh, deal,” Barry stutters. He’s holding eye contact with Bruce, and he feels like he just might throw up.
“I appreciate it. It’s been awhile since anyone’s checked up on me.”
Oh god, why are they still holding eye contact? Barry’s stomach is in knots and he feels like something is going to explode. He needs to run but he needs to stay where he is, too. It’s like something in him are going to explode.
“I just didn’t want you to be hurt and I think you’d do the same for me and I’m sorry if I crossed your boundaries and-”
Bruce’s lips are on Barry’s, and for once in his life, Barry shuts up.
Bruce Wayne is kissing me, Barry thinks.
Then: Why the fuck aren’t I kissing him back?!
So Barry stops thinking and just does. He slants his lips back over Bruce, tasting mint toothpaste and something that is just Bruce.
He sighs into Bruce’s mouth, can feel Bruce smiles into the kiss, then suddenly Barry is being pressed back onto the bed. His head nearly misses the headboard, but he doesn’t care, how can he when Bruce, Bruce, fucking Bruce is pressing into him, and they’re both just wearing plaid pajamas pants.
What is happening?!
They break apart, Bruce with a look and Barry with a gasp. If he thought he needed to run before, now he really needed to. He feels like he was vibrating up and down.
“Is this okay?” Bruce murmurs and what even was this?
Obviously it’s more than just a kiss, or Bruce wouldn’t have pushed Barry against the bed. But is it okay?
Yeah. Yeah definitely. He can’t say he always wanted this necessarily, but Bruce is a great kisser, and Barry is hard already. (And a small part of him knows Bruce needs this, whatever this was, and Barry loves Bruce, maybe not as anything but a mentor figure, not yet anyway, but he does love Bruce in a way and he can do this for Bruce, he wants Bruce, too-)
“Barry.”
Barry groans and leans up to kiss Bruce again. Bruce’s tongue presses against his lips as his hands are all over Barry. His arms, his legs, his stomach. It’s hot and Barry’s head starts to spin in it all.
He’s so hard . . .
Brue breaks the kiss to ground his body into Barry. They both groan. Bruce kisses down Barry’s neck, sending jolts of pleasure down into his body.
“Bruce,” Barry groans. “Please, I-”
“I got you, I got you.” Bruce kisses Barry again and grips Barry’s thigh. His fingers press into Barry’s skin, hard enough that there’s going to be imprints and that’s so fucking hot.
“Shh,” Bruce says again, into Barry’s ear, causing goosebumps to rise on Barry’s skin. “I got you, baby boy.”
Maybe there’s some deeper meaning to this, like say, Bruce using Barry to distract from the loss of his son but by babing Barry he gets to, in some way, be a nurturer and a caregiver again.
Listen, Barry does not have a daddy kink, okay? But there’s something about being called baby boy that makes him arch into Bruce’s touch and he’s not going to call him daddy okay?
“Is that okay? Is-”
“Yes,” Barry calls it again. “Can you, um, can you-” Bruce’s fingers are pressing into his thighs while his other hand is suddenly swiping back Barry’s hair from his face. “Please-”
“Yeah? Baby boy? That’s what you want?”
Bruce’s fingers finally dip into Barry’s boxers, finally gets his hands onto Barry’s dick.
It’s good, soooo goodddd, and Barry can’t help the long moan that leaves his lips. Bruce’s moving his hand up and down and it’s good, but Barry wants more, and he’s not going to last longer if Bruce continues.
“Please,” Barry gasps, arching into his touch. “Can you, will you. I mean-”
“Use your words.” Bruce runs his fingers up and down Barry, and Barry moans again but bites his lip.
“Fuck me,” Barry pleads, feels Bruce hand’s stop against his skin.
For the first time since they started this, Bruce looks unsure.
And oh no, Barry just fucked this all up. He should have just let the handjob continue, that would have been enough, it was Bruce-
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, absolutely yes, please-”
“Barry-”
“Please.” The please sounds broken even to his own ears. He wants this more than anything suddenly.
“Okay. Okay we can do that.”
Bruce places a soft kiss against Barry. Then he reaches over Bruce for the nightstand, pulls out a bottle of lube and a roll of condoms. “You tell me to stop anytime, okay?”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Barry. Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if you get too much.”
“Okay, okay, I will, I promise. Bruce, please . . .”
Their pants aren’t even off but Barry is leaking into his pants and he can feel Bruce, hard himself, pressing into Barry’s side.
“Okay, okay.” Bruce kisses him again and tugs Barry’s pants down, the waste no times to get out of his own. He chucks them somewhere on the floor.
The kisses against his neck distract him from the sound of lube being opened. Barry breath catches in his throat when he feels a covered finger press against his entrance.
Okay, so, maybe he never done this before. He wasn’t totally a virgin, but a short, two minute romp in high school in the back of the girl’s car didn’t really teach much. So, not technically a virgin, but he’s never done oral, never did anything but straight sex and-
“Woah!”
Bruce’s finger presses tight into him. All the air in Barry leaves his body.
“Baby boy?” Bruce whispers. “Are you okay?”
“I- Whooo.” It’s uncomfortable and it sort of hurts but he doesn’t want to stop. “It’s just-tight,” he breathes.
Bruce nods, presses more kisses against Barry’s neck. “Just take it slow. You’ve done this before, right?”
Barry hesitates. He doesn’t want to lie but he doesn’t want to admit the embarrassing truth, that he didn’t stop to think that he should have thought this through.
“Barry.”
“Um, I’ve had sex before,” Barry says, and that’s not a lie, really. The car was cramped, he barely knew the girl, she just asked him to the prom a week ago, and he came so fast that it didn’t even feel like it really was sex.
“With a man?”
“Um. No. But I want this, I so totally do. Please, please.”
“Shhh.” Bruce doesn’t stop his intrusion, but slows down his finger gently. “I just wish you would have told me so I could have been more careful.”
Barry shakes his head and arches into Bruce’s touch. “No, it’s good, I promise, please.” The finger in him doesn’t seem like enough suddenly. He needs more.
Bruce kisses him again, and his tongue against Barry’s distracts him from the second finger entering him. It’s a bit tight still but doesn’t hurt so much anymore. It starts to feel good, and as Bruce continues to fuck him with his fingers, Barry might come from this alone.
But he can’t. He needs more.
“Pl-please.” Barry’s voice comes out breathless. He’s aching and he needs more.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Please!”
“Okay, baby boy. Okay.”
The “baby boy” has him moaning and gasping, twisting his body down and nearly crying when Bruce’s fingers leave him.
Then Bruce’s is sliding on the condom and Barry’s too turned on to care about anything else than needing Bruce so he adjusts himself, rests his head on a pillow and shifts his hips so that they press tight against Bruce’s
Bruce moans, feeling his own erection press into Barry’s. “If you don't like it, tell me to stop, okay?”
“Yes, yes, Bruce, please!”
Bruce tangles their fingers together and laces them on the pillow above Barry’s head. “Breathe. Okay, take a deep breath.” He waits for Barry to take a deep breath before he pushes in.
Barry can see why he needed the deep breath, because it all comes rushing out in a big gasp. Bruce doesn’t move, just lets Barry get accustomed to him. It’s not bad but it’s not good, and Barry can feel his toes curl in pain. He’s glad his fingers are tight in Bruce’s because he squeezes them, his nails pressing into Bruce’s hand.
“Baby boy? Okay?”
Barry breaths out again and shifts his hips. It causes a small ripple of pleasure against him. “Okay. I just need a minute. Please.”
Bruce is patient, even as Barry keeps shifting his hips in a way that can’t be easy for Bruce. It crosses Barry’s mind, briefly, that Bruce has done this before, has had sex with at least one other man before but it doesn’t matter, not right now, because soon the pain leaves and Bruce can fuck Barry into the mattress in earnest.
Barry makes these little grunts and moans that drives Bruce wild. Bruce breaks their hands apart to run them up and down Barry’s body, causing shivers to break out, and Barry can’t help but vibrate as the pleasure increases.
“Fuck,” Bruce hisses. “Baby, are you vibrating?”
“Can’t help it,” Barry gasps, then gets the urge to throw his leg over Bruce’s shoulder so he does and he was right, because the angle is so much better and he starts to vibrate faster, running in place because he can’t run now.
The feel of Bruce against him, the grunts Bruce makes, Bruce’s cock inside him, it’s too much, too much, and Bruce is pressing against Barry in just the right spot that makes Barry sees stars.
He moans, just once, and Bruce wraps a hand around Barry’s cock. His thrusts are becoming uneven, and Barry knows that they both won’t last much longer.
Then Bruce jerks Barry off, once, twice, and that’s it, combined with a thrust from Bruce, Barry explodes, the vibrating, the thrusts, the jerks, it’s all so good, so fucking good, and Barry whines loudly, ejaculating onto his stomach and Bruce’s chest.
Bruce follows right after, the clenching around his cock being too much, and he gasps and pushes Barry down onto the bed by his shoulders.
They just breathe together, and it’s good. Barry feels protected and loved and the orgasm was great but this feeling? He could live in it. He doesn’t protest when Bruce finally slides out and tosses the condom, but he misses the warmth immediately.
“Oh, shit,” Bruce murmurs and oh no, no no no, Barry doesn’t want Bruce ton regret it, to jump into the “we shouldn’t have done this” thing.
“Let’s just sleep,” Barry says, because that’s better than having to get up, get dressed, and having to go to sleep alone. After doing what they just did, it’d kill him.
It’s so unlike Bruce to stay, but he can’t hurt Barry’s feelings, he cares for Barry to much for that but they just made a mistake-but no, Barry isn’t a mistake, Barry could never be a mistake no matter what.
So he sighs, runs a fingers through his hair, and nods. “Just for tonight though. We should talk about this in the morning."
Barry has every intention of absolutely not doing that, but it doesn’t matter, because the next morning he wakes up in Bruce’s giant bed alone.