from one eye of a storm to another

mcgonagollygee:

or, taako doesn’t kill barry 

lucretia comes out onto the deck of the starblaster. unlike merle and davenport, who had passed out several feet away from each other, barry’s hand is loose on taako’s arm; it’s become second nature for the crew to reach for each other in times of trouble. but barry and taako – they’ve been near inseparable since lup disappeared.

she shouldn’t change the plan now. she’s too far along to take risks. but looking at the two of them (and she hasn’t really looked at either in weeks, the desperation in their eyes and their restless movements too much to handle) she can’t bring herself to leave them alone. they won’t remember lup – that ship has sailed – but she can make it work. making memories is much more difficult than taking them away, but she won’t be able to live with herself is she doesn’t get this right.

---

when barry wakes up on the couch, glasses off with a blanket pulled over him, he blinks at the blurry figure in the kitchen. “who’re you?” he groans.

whoever it is comes through the door, snags barry’s glasses from the table beside him, and pops them gracelessly onto his face. as barry adjusts them, taako comes into focus. “your worst nightmare,” he says. “aside from whatever the fuck you drank last night. so hungover you forget your very own brother? that’s low.”

“not as bad as the time you pushed me out of a tree when i was twelve,” barry counters, although his insistence on following his new, fascinating foster brother into the tree had been more to blame than anything else.

“that was an accident,” taako says, offended. “anyway, better get up. you’ve got class in twenty.”

“it’s like those stress dreams where you have a final you haven’t studied for, except it’s a final that i haven’t written,” barry says. “where the fuck are my notes for class?”

“do i look like I know?” taako asks, thrusting a plate of scrambled eggs into his hands. barry takes a bite as taako watches expectantly.

“cooked to perfection, as always,” barry assures him. “i keep telling you, you should go pro.”

“mm, maybe,” taako says. “but don’t blame me when the apartment is swarmed with paparazzi.” he squints at barry, then runs his (buttery from the eggs) fingers through barry’s hair to flatten it.

barry laughs through a mouthful of egg, dodging to get away from a second swipe. “you’re so gross,” he says.

“well, you’re presentable now,” taako says. “no need to thank me.” he goes over to the hooks by the door and starts sorting through coats to find something that matches what he’s wearing. barry may still be in a rumpled button down, but taako is immaculate. “magenta or red?” he asks barry.

“red,” barry says immediately. taako puts the magenta jacket back with its many fellows, all heaped upon a single hook. barry’s jacket is on the hook beside it. nothing at all is on the third hook. barry almost suggests that taako move some of his coats to the extra hook, but the words die in his throat. 

“i hate to say it. but you were right, red does go better,” taako says. when barry doesn’t respond, he glances over at him. “you alright, brother dear? need me to get you a fantasy aspirin?”

barry looks away from the hook, and the pressure swelling in his head fades. “no,” he says. “no, i’m alright.” he shovels the last forkful of egg into his mouth, then stands. 

as he pulls his coat on, something catches his eye. “did you get a haircut?” he asks taako. 

“nah,” taako says, tugging on the end of his hair, which falls just above his shoulders. barry could have sworn he was wearing it longer, although the way it falls around his face looks strangely familiar. 

“oh,” barry says. “well, it looks good.”