AN: Saw a few fics like this and wanted to write my own. Slash and Olivarry/Flarrow.

Disclaimer: Nope. The characters of this belongs to their respective show(s)/book(s) and creator(s) of said shows/books


Walking into the bathroom Barry found Oliver standing over the sink brushing his teeth. Oliver's hair was still damp from his shower earlier with droplets sliding down his neckline, wetting his shirt collar. Barry caught Oliver's eye in the mirror and glared. This was one habit that he was trying to break: Oliver getting up at the crack of dawn. Sure sometimes the billionaire would decide to spend the entire morning relaxing in bed, but that usually required quite a bit of convincing on Barry's part. He had no idea how the man could function this early in the morning, especially if said person spent an entire night out patrolling and only just got home two hours before getting up.

Oliver rinsed his toothbrush, placing it back on the counter and took a sip of water from his glass. After thoroughly rinsing his mouth, he turned around to face Barry.

"What?" Oliver asked, drying his hands on a towel.

"Don't 'what' me. You know 'what'. Its not even eight yet and your almost done getting ready for the day." Barry grumbled, crossing his arms. Seriously. He did not appreciate having to get up before eight on his day off. He had two days left to spend in Starling and he wanted to sleep in with at least one of them.

"Almost? I'm done." Tilting his head to the side, Oliver gave him a questioning look. Barry rolled his eyes and placing his hand on Oliver's chest, pushed him back into the bathroom. He bent down rummaging around under the sink for a few minutes, before finally finding what he was looking for. Straightening up he held up a razor and can of shaving cream. Oliver gave him the look which he usually saves for whenever Diggle suggests that he needs to take a night off.

"I don't need to shave."

"Yes, you really do. I love scruff as much as the next guy, but your beard has gone from sexy-light-scruff to leaning more on the grizzly-mountain-man side."

"Maybe I'm rocking the mountain man look." Barry scoffed at Oliver's statement.

"Just. No." Barry said, turning around to fill the basin with warm water. He didn't need to look behind him to know Oliver rolled his eyes. Barry practically felt the man's defeat and shot Oliver a triumphant look. Oliver made to grab the razor, but Barry moved it out of reach. Instead of responding, he moved to sit on the counter. Goosebumps rose on the back of his thighs as the cold from the counter seeped through his thin flannel pants.

"I want to do it." Barry stated already grabbing the can and foaming up his hand. Oliver raised a skeptical eyebrow staring at Barry.

"I don't know. You plus something sharp close to my jugular sounds dangerous." Oliver sounded weary, but stepped closer anyway. Barry spread his legs inviting the man to move closer.

"I'll be careful! Trust me." The warmth from Oliver's jeans were a huge contradiction to the cold counter. He smiled, rubbing the foam on both hands.

"I trust you." The serious tone in Oliver's voice made Barry pause for a moment. He looked up into Oliver's eyes and knew it was the truth. A warm feeling filled him and he leaned in stealing a quick kiss. It was short, just a press of lips, but hopefully it conveyed the message he was trying to send. As soon as he leaned back, he brought his hands up and slapped them on both of Oliver's cheeks causing foam to splatter everywhere. Immediately the sudden serious atmosphere vanished. Barry laughed at seeing Oliver's bewildered expression.

"I take it back. I don't trust you." Oliver joked, giving him a mock glare. A few foam droplets had landed on Oliver's button down shirt, already starting to seep into the material. The older man frowned and stepped back to unbutton his shirt. Once it was open he slipped it off his shoulder and tossed it into the hamper. This time Barry sent Oliver a questioning look to which he stated that he didn't want to get his shirt dirtier.

"Yeah, sure. Its not just because you secretly like showing off your unfairly good physique." Barry shot back his retort, grabbing Oliver's arm to draw him closer. Ignoring the smug look, he finally set back to his task of shaving Oliver's beard. He started by the neck, slowly dragging the razor upward and then following the same trail with his thumb to make sure he didn't miss anything. His legs wrapped around Oliver's waist so he could get more comfortable. Absently he started rubbing his foot on the back of Oliver's jean clad calf while he finished shaving the one side. He felt hands trail up to rest on his thighs. There was complete silence except for the sound of slow, methodical swipes of the blade removing foam and dark blond hairs. Barry gently grabbed Oliver's jaw so he could turn his face to the side for better access. When Barry glanced up after a few moments he noticed with surprise that Oliver had closed his eyes. The man seemed completely relaxed. Ducking his head back down to complete his task, he felt a small smile escape. Once he was done Barry dampened the towel and slid it over Oliver's now smooth jaw, removing any remaining foam.

"Alright! All done." As soon as Barry exclaimed that they were done, Oliver drew him in for a long, tender kiss. The smooth skin felt foreign against Barry's mouth and chin. Oliver slowly drew back, pulling lightly on Barry's bottom lip almost like he didn't actually want to stop.

"Thank you," Oliver said sincerely, "but I do know how to shave." His tone amused. Barry scoffed and turned to rinse the razor in the basin.

"That mountain man beard you had going states otherwise." Oliver shoved his shoulder glaring, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. Hands grabbed him by the waist, pulling him off the counter top and into a warm embrace.