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The Man From S.T.A.R. (Labs)

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You’re not sure why Harry gets to change into his party outfit in the S.T.A.R. Labs van while you’re left to change into yours in your car. There is not enough room in here to maneuver around.

There’s a voice in your ear - your comms.

There’s an alley just around the corner, (Y/N),” Caitlin informs you. “When you’re ready, we’ll kick Harry out to join you.” Something in her tone tells you that she’s enjoying this situation. A little too much, possibly. Everyone on Team Flash seems to think that you and Harry are perfect for each other when really all you do bicker and there’s always this weird tension between you that always goes unmentioned.

So, of course the Team would take any opportunity to send you out on a mission - a critical undercover mission - with the resident grump, Harry Wells. Normally, they wouldn’t send him out in the field with something like this, but it’s not like you call the shots here. And he did offer to go with you in the first place.

He better not mess this up.

On the way to the alley next to the building, you fasten the lace and jewelled black mask around your face with its ribbon. Tonight, you’re attending a masquerade, and though you’ll be undercover and it’ll make it easier to walk around virtually unknown, it will also prove a little more challenging to locate your target — one of Central City’s underground weapon smugglers, if not the wickedest.

Luckily, all you have to do is gather intel on the guy, which is where your special metahuman ability comes into play…

You hear a series of mumblings under his breath before he even rounds the corner. What he’s saying is unclear, but you gather Harry is not happy about being paired with you tonight either. But soon enough, the man in question comes to stand directly in front of you, almost as if he’s been nailed to the concrete under his feet.

“(Y/L/N)?”

You see in the orange alleyway light that he’s wearing an all-black three-piece suit with a matching black mask clinging to his face. Harry looks like he’s never looked before, and frankly, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Harry,” you greet him, impressed, “you look so different.”

“And you,” he gestures to your black off-the-shoulder bodycon dress with a heart-shaped neckline. “You look… very different.”

After a brief awkward and silent pause of semi-secretly admiring one another, there’s a sound in your ear of a throat clearing.

Are you two gonna get a move on or what?” Cisco ushers you from the confines of the van. “Chop, chop! We got a kingpin to spy on!”

You place a hand to your comms, “Yeah, yeah, we’re going.” At first, you and Harry walk together, side by side, towards the gala’s entrance, but by the time you reach the doors, you think it would probably be best to take his arm.

You are supposed to be each other’s dates, after all.

“What are you doing?” Harry whispers to you.

“I’m taking your arm, what does it look like?” you respond. “We should probably at least appear as if we like each other.”

The older man simply makes a grunt. Typical.

The pair of you casually make your way inside and walk around the room alert for the man you’ve been briefed about. Eventually, Harry nudges your shoulder with his.

“Kingpin at your seven.”

Pretending to admire the hanging chandeliers above the crowd, you turn almost a full one-eighty. That’s when you spot him.

The kingpin is considerably tall, possibly taller than Harry, but it’s still unclear from this standpoint. Slicked back hair, a near-constant frown hidden behind his own mask, and a thick gold ring with a unique insignia on his finger - it’s him alright.

“Here, take my waist,” you instruct your partner.

“What? Why?”

“Because we’re going to dance, genius.”

You place Harry’s hand on your waist for him and take his other hand and begin to dance to the orchestra playing a waltz. There’s something about the beautiful music and Harry’s tall, poised, and well-dressed frame that momentarily makes you forget the entire reason you’re here. And when you do remember, you wish you could forget that and just enjoy the dance with him.

“Am I not supposed to lead?” Harry asks you with the tiniest hint of a smirk.

“Yes, but you’re not leading me in the right direction.” For good measure, you motion your head towards the kingpin standing at the edge of the dancefloor talking with who you assume are his associates.

In a series of breathtakingly graceful spins, Harry dances you nearer to the target. The closer you get, the easier it is to pick up on the conversation. Your ears work almost like that of a radio trying to find the right frequency, but it never takes this long for it to kick in full force.

“There’s something wrong,” you whisper to Harry.

“In what way?”

“My powers. They’re not working. It’s choppy.” You subtly press a finger to your comms again. “Caitlin? Cisco? Barry?” you try, only to receive static in return. “Nothing. I think something is jamming my abilities and the transmission signal. We need to get closer to him.”

And like the genius Harry is, he purposefully lets go of you in a twirl-gone-awry, causing you to “accidentally” knock into the scariest man in Central City.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Sir,” you apologize to the man, and feel like you should already be presented with an Academy Award. “My date is a bit too clumsy for his own good. Not much of a dancer.”

The kingpin, who was first startled, now looks pleasantly surprised at having you be the one to bump into him.

“I am the one who is sorry, Miss,” he replies with a creepy, crooked smile. “You shouldn’t have to be subjected to such terrible dancing on your date’s part.”

As you give an ego-boosting chuckle, Harry moves to your side.

“Evening,” he greets the kingpin.

“Good evening, Sir,” the man replies but turns his attention back to you. “Would you care for a proper dance, Miss? You might find I’m a step up from your partner, here.”

You suddenly feel like you’re sweating bullets. “It would be my pleasure.” Taking his hand is like taking a grenade. When will it go off? You must be careful. Harry’s eyes betray him as you walk past him - utter concern clearly visible. You try to wordlessly alert him to hit up the men the kingpin was talking to for information. It is uncertain whether he picked up on your expression, though.

The kingpin holds you, ready to dance, but you inwardly cringe at his touch, though never letting it show. A true professional in the field.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” you start and proceed to give him a fake name.

“Albert,” is all he says in reply.

“And what is it you do for work, Albert?”

He studies you hard with that dangerous gaze. You half wonder if you’ve just dug your own grave. This man could potentially have this ballroom surrounded. One look from him and Albert could have you pay dearly for a question like that. Maybe even pay by means of a bullet.

“I like to keep my endeavours private, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, you can trust me,” you attempt at sounding entirely innocent and not as if you’re digging for answers.

Albert stops the dance and leans in close.

“I. Don’t. Trust. Anyone.”

Just when you anticipate dying a painful death of being strangled, a familiar voice speaks up. “Excuse me.”

Harry stands at your side, his face entirely threatening towards the kingpin. He dares act this way in front of your target? Then again, thinking about the hints Harry has dropped every once and awhile with the Team, this may not be the first time the Earth-2 man has come face to face with other dangerous people and live to tell the tale.

“I’m stealing my date back,” he states. While part of your heart flutters at his suaveness, your brain shouts at him for interrupting your information extraction.

“What are you doing?” you ask after Albert briskly stalks away. “I almost had what we needed.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I bonded with the associates. I got what we needed,” Harry explains and begins a slow dance with you. “And I had to get you out of that.”

“The whole dancing with a mobster situation?”

“Yeah. I’d hate to subject you to dance with such a heinous person.”

Your palm runs up the back of his suit jacket, and cling to him, feeling now how scared you were moments ago. “I like you much better, anyway.”

Harry raises a questioning eyebrow.

“As a dance partner, I mean.”

“Mm, right. I like you too,” he says. “Also as a dance partner.”

Your laugh comes out as a scoff, and you look away. And maybe it’s your imagination, but could his hold on your waist have grown firmer?

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Is the mission over now? We have all we need, right?” You count exactly four seconds before he answers you.

“Yeah, it’s over. Shall we go then? Get the news to the Team?”

You nod, despite not necessarily wanting this dance to end with Harry. His hands drop from you, but offers his arm instead. You can see it now - the moment you exit the building, everything will go back to the way it was before. You and Harry will go back to your tension-filled bickering and you’ll go back to your stolen glances without acting upon anything.

Unless…

By the time you two reach the exit, you’ve gathered enough nerve to do something you’ve thought about doing for some time now. You stop, causing Harry to halt as well and pull him back behind a large manicured shrub. Before he can even pose the question forming on his tongue, you step on your toes to kiss him. What takes you even more by surprise is that he very readily kisses you back, turning the whole thing quickly into a hot and very welcome opened-mouthed make out.

Never would you have expected Harry Wells’ tongue to be in your mouth tonight, and yet, reality is a funny thing. You can’t help but make a pleased sound at feeling his lips on yours. He answers with a low sound from the back of his throat.

Achoo!”

You break the kiss slowly, and frown. Harry replicates your expression. Neither of you had sneezed…

Bless you.”

Thanks.”

Sorry, guys. Did we ruin… anything?”

Team Flash is back in your ear, clear as day, and leave you wondering how much they’ve heard. When had the transmission returned? Harry must hear them in his comms too because his face is slowly turning pink.

“How much did you hear?” you ask the van crew suspiciously.

Hardly anything.” Cisco speaks, “No, I mean nothing.”

We just tuned in,” Barry adds. “Hi, hello!”

What’s the scoop? About the kingpin. Not you two. Obviously,” Caitlin rambles. You roll your eyes, and pull the device from your ear. Harry copies your actions, and kisses you once more.

And this time, it’s private.