Okay. It's been a bit, lol. But I'm back! I'm actually leaving to volunteer at a camp this week, so I wanted to post one more thing before I get super busy and can't write for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :) Stay awesome.

Oh, and once again, your guy's reviews mean the world to me, and honestly are the reason I keep writing. So thanks for that ;)

Disclaimer: Naturally, I don't own this because I'm writing fanfic that will never be canon. As one does.

the fourth time Oliver noticed Barry's scars, he wished he hadn't

...

Oliver wasn't avoiding Barry.

At least, he didn't think it was obvious.

He'd just been busy during Barry's recovery. That's all.

But by the looks that Felicity and Iris kept giving him, and even John for Christ's sake, he knew that the others held a different opinion. He spent time around Barry.

But not necessarily by choice.

It wasn't his fault, really. But it also wasn't Barry's.

It was just-

Every time he was around him, he couldn't help but think about them. Those glaring reminders of something in Barry's past that Oliver had no clue about it.

Of something-

Something awful.

Traumatic, quite frankly. Because you don't aquire scars like that and come out perfectly fine. Not even Barry.

Especially not Barry.

Barry was the kindest, and ironically enough, despite his accelerated speed, the gentlest man that Oliver had ever met. And to think of someone doing that to innocent, loveable Barry-

It made him sick. And it also made him want to unleash hell on whoever had done it but he couldn't possibly do that without knowing who it had been which left him in this situation. Putting him in this awkward dance of do I ask and no, he'll tell me when he feels comfortable.

But Oliver knew better.

Barry didn't like burdening others with his issues, as the man would put it.

And whatever had caused those scars, whatever experience, was certainly not something you could bring up in casual conversation.

Hey, Barry, how are you doing? That's good. Oh, by the way, I noticed those scars all over your body. So tell me, who was it that tortured you?

Yeah.

Not happening.

So that's why he was stuck in this ridiculous cycle and really, he was tired of it.

But what could he do?

Nothing. So here he was, cleaning his arrows to put away because he would be going home to Star City today.

Which means he may never get his answers.

Wonderful.

"Hey, Oliver!"

Speak of the devil, Oliver thought, setting down an arrow to look up at the man who just burst into the room. He didn't even have a moment to speak up before Barry was asking him a question, leaning against the doorway with his head poking into the room.

"How do you feel about one last mission before you go back?"

Of course.

Because wasn't that just his luck?

"You up for it?" Oliver asked, instead, mindful of Barry's healing injury.

He made an indignant face.

"You doubt my capabilities. Besides, even if I wasn't someone's gotta' do it," He grinned, and Oliver sighed heavily. He couldn't decline even if he wanted to.

Not that he'd ever admit to not wanting to say no.

Barry didn't need his ego stroked anymore.

Oliver hummed noncommitably, hiding a smirk as he grabbed his bow at the look on Barry's face. "If you're so capable, then I don't think you really need my help-"

Barry rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to help me catch Captain Cold or not?"

Oliver stared.

"Captain Cold. Are you serious?" Oliver deapanned.

He glanced back over at Barry, a look of disbelief on his face. Barry just shrugged, turning to leave and not even bothering to look at him.

"You got any better names?" Oliver huffed, but kept his mouth shut.

One last mission it was.

Even if it was to catch a stupidly named criminal.

How hard could it be to stop a guy named Captain Cold?

Okay.

He was wrong.

He was very, very wrong.

But really, when you're facing a man named Captain Cold, you don't expect much of a fight.

He also didn't expect Barry and the man - apparently named Snart? - to know each other so well. They were also rather aquainted, somehow.

Oliver didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

But apparently, that kinship was strained currently, because Snart was holding some-

Gun, he supposed -

And pointing it at Barry who was trying to negotiate with him, something about how Lisa wouldn't want this? That this wasn't how he should deal with-

Oliver didn't know, actually.

He was too focused on the declining distance between Snart and Barry, who was bravely - stupidly - trying to talk him down, but that gun was still aimed at his chest and Oliver knew he coudln't stop it, he couldn't do anything-

But Barry was fast, he could stop it. He could get out of the way-

But, Oliver realized in horror, a moment too slow, always too slow-

That he didn't.

The cry of Barry's name that was ripped out of his throat was almost more out of shock than fear but he should have known-

Barry would never back down from a fight.

And neither would Oliver.

The next few moments were a blur, fueled by fear and anger because damn it, Barry why does this always happen to you?

Once Captain Cold was subdued - thanks to a rather forceful blow to the head during the man's bout of shock as he realized what he'd just done -, he wasted no time in dropping down by Barry's side, and realized just why exactly Snart was named that.

There, spreading rapidly on Barry's chest, was a block of ice that clung to his steadily paling body. His lips were tinged blue, and his eyes, stared listlessly at the sky above them.

Oh God.

He looked-

Oliver reached out, hurriedly, grasping at his wrist and clinging onto him until he felt the faintest thrums of a heartbeat. He nearly sagged in relief, but somehow managed the strength not to. Barry needed him.

And he wouldn't let him down.

The panicked voices in his ear made themselves known over the static filling his head, and he realized they must have known what had happened.

Not bothering to answer their questions, he resorted to one of his own.

"What do I do?"

He could hear the strain in his own voice.

He didn't register much of what they were saying, but he did manage to catch the one thing that mattered.

Warm him up.

Yeah, obviously, his mind mocked.

"-we'll do our best to be there soon, but-" He heard Caitlin's voice, but it barely registered over the thrumming in his ears as he waited impatiently for more info on how to warm Barry back up and stop him from-

From becoming another friend lost due to Oliver's incapabilities.

Damn Barry for believing in everyone and damn himself for not stepping up and subduing Snart immediately.

Barry would've never forgiven you.

Oliver could live with his hatred.

But he wasn't so sure Barry would, now.

"-remove his uniform, and your own. Rub his arms, and use your body heat to warm him up. There's not much else-" He didn't need to be told anymore.

Not wasting a moment, Oliver stripped off his own top before removing Barry's as well, and brought the man - shakily, but it was only because of the chilled air, really - close to him; rubbing circles along his arm as he did so.

Biting back a hiss as Barry's frigid skin met his own, he concentrated on looking anywhere but at them.

Though really, there was no way to avoid it.

Not when you're clutching the poor, exposed man to your own bare chest.

Distantly, Oliver had a thought of potential teasing from his teammates, and even Barry, himself, once this was all over.

That is, if he lives, his mind supplied.

Mentally, and forcefully, shoving that thought away, Oliver decided to divert his attention to attempting to rouse the younger man. Anything to distract him from the hellish scars lining Barry's body. Because now Oliver could see everything, and it just felt wrong.

Because Barry should be the one to tell him. And now Oliver felt like he knew some horrible secret, but yet also knew absolutely nothing about it.

Save for one thing.

You didn't get a branding like that from an ordinary, every day run-in with a madman.

"Ya' know, Barry," Oliver started, inhaling a breath to keep his teeth from chattering. "You really have no self-preservation."

Barry's head merely lolled to the side as Oliver shifted, and he barely restrained himself from cursing.

He imagined that if he were still conscious, he would mutter something along the lines of "you're one to talk", and found himself desperate to hear the cheerful banter once more. You really didn't know how much you cared for something until it was torn away from you.

But he'd be fine.

He was Barry Allen, for God's sake. The man had been stabbed merely days before and lived, so why should this time be any different?

He's obviously survived worse.

A chill made it's way up his spine and for the first time all night, it wasn't because of the cold.

Before he could really even process what was happening, Barry was being pulled from his arms and Oliver was struck by a sense of Deja Vu.

And if he refused to acknowledge the fact that before he'd realized who was trying to take Barry, he had pulled him closer and attempted to push away the possible attacker-

There were more pressing things to worry about.

"I swear to God, I will chain you to this bed and never let you leave this building again."

Barry laughed.

"You couldn't if you tried," He taunted, teasingly, and Oliver resisted the suddenly overwhelming urge to deck him right then and there. Pretty much the only thing stopping him from doing so being the fact that he was still in a hospital bed.

"Shut up, Barry."

The injured man, naturally, didn't comply and chattered on.

"I'm just saying. You may have stealth on your side, but I-" Barry gestured at his legs, grinning that stupid, endearing grin of his. "-have got speed on my side."

This time, Oliver didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"We get it, Barry. You're fast," Though he feigned annoyance at the other man's endless bantering, he had to admit that he was pretty damn grateful to even be able to hear it.

There was a time he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to listen to that goofy chatter again.

"Damn right."

Oliver sighed.

"Barry,"

"Yeah?"

"Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Barry pouted.

Actually pouted, for God's sake. As if he were a child.

Oliver had to admit, he often resembled one.

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of listening to you."

Barry huffed.

"Fine, I'll just go find Snart and he can knock me unconscious again." Barry threw his hands up in defense at the look Oliver gave him. "Only kidding," Barry sighed, and gestured towards the duffel bag on the table near them. "You officially leaving this time?"

Oliver shrugged.

"Depends. Are you planning on throwing yourself headfirst into danger anytime soon?" Barry chuckled.

"If I say yes, are you guys going to stay?" This time, it was Oliver who let out a breath in amusement.

"I'll be sticking around until you're able to actually defend yourself, and others again. I'd stick around until I could trust you not to do something ridiculously reckless, but Star City would be in ruins by then."

Barry snorted, and threw his head back against the pillow.

"I learned from the best," He declared, a grin pulling at his lips as he closed his eyes. Oliver merely grinned back.

"I thought you said you weren't tired," Barry cracked an eye open to glance at him.

"And I thought you were leaving?"

Oliver sighed.

"Go to sleep, Barry."

He was asleep before the words were even out of Oliver's mouth.

So, I tried to add a bit of fluff because the next one is a doozy lol. (probably, but i'm only assuming because I haven't written yet XD) Hope you have a wonderful day! See ya' soon, lovelies!