neighbors | barry allen//the flash

fourteen | manipulations

Clara should have asked why Andrew showed up at her door unannounced. Really, she should have wondered how he even found out where she lived in the first place. However, when Andrew showed up, none of these thoughts even crossed Clara's mind. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, and leaned in, and any resolve she had, if she even had any to begin with, disappeared. She melted into his arms, his lips, her old habits. He guided her backwards into her apartment, closing the door behind him without breaking the kiss. Just as Clara began to urge him closer, Andrew pulled away. 

"This is lovely, but I didn't come here to do this," Andrew breathed, a wicked smile on his lips. Clara immediately retracted herself and backed away stiffly.

"You could have fooled me," she replied cooly. 

"Since when are you so tense?" Andrew chuckled. 

"I don't know, maybe it began when I acquired a mountain student loan debt," she snapped sarcastically. "Or wait, what about that time my mom died? I guess it also could have just started when I was held hostage at a bank. I don't know, I guess I really have a lot of issues that could make me a little tense." 

"Clara," Andrew let out an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, you wanted to talk?" Clara gave him a pointed glare, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt her blood in a boiling fury beneath her skin. She should have known better than to fall back into his arms.  There was a reason it never worked out, it would be in her best interest to remember that. He was just playing her, testing her emotions and reactions. This was nothing more than a game to him, and she had lost to him in a matter of seconds.

"You can't say you didn't enjoy it," Andrew taunted.

"Why? Would it hurt your precious ego?" Clara smiled viciously. He had caught her off-guard, but now she knew what he was up to and was ready to play his game.

"You know how much I value your opinion." His words were teasing, testing. 

"Did you come here just to flatter me, Andrew?" Clara let her annoyance tint her voice. 

"No, of course not. How's your search for the Flash going?" 

"I've only scoured through a few thousand articles looking for clues." Clara deadpanned. 

"And nothing?" Andrew raised his eyebrows.

"Not enough. I've decided to rely on primary resources." 

"I knew you would be good at this." 

"There you go again, Andrew," Clara warned, a smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth. "I don't know how much more excessive praise I can handle. My ego might end up as big as yours." 

"Are you seeing anyone?" He asked, suddenly off topic. Clara wiped off whatever smile she had on her face seconds before. She didn't enjoy this sudden change of topic.

"I'm working two jobs and trying to find the Flash." She stated flatly, not really giving him a straight answer. "I'm not getting paid to let someone sweep me off my feet." 

"That's what I've always admired about you," Andrew admitted carefully. She could tell he was calculating each word, trying to hit some nerve, trying to get some reaction out of her. "You're realistic. You're not some hopeless romantic that thinks love will pay the bills."

"Yes, and that's worked out fabulously for me," Clara rolled her eyes. "Anything else I can do for you?" 

"Keep me updated," Andrew nodded. 

"You could have just texted me, you know," Clara glared, waving her phone in the air for emphasis.

"No, I enjoyed this visit," Andrew walked to the door with a smug look on his face. "You're working at Belly Burger now right?" Clara could practically taste the superior attitude he was trying to project. He was practically screaming that he was too good to work at a place like that, a fast food job was so below him.

"What's it to you?" 

"Since your search for the Flash seems like its going to take a while, I could set you up somewhere you might get better tips." Andrew's words were purposeful; she doubted he expected her to have any good leads in such a short amount of time, but he wanted to put her in a corner, make her feel desperate.

"And how would you do that?" Clara questioned.

"The same guy, he has a lot of ties. You know the Luxe Lounge, in that hotel on Fifth?" Clara gave him a small nod. "It's high end, as in a four course dinner starts at around a hundred bucks a person. You waitressed all during college, with that and my reference you're gold. You could be making the same amount in an hour there that you do in a week at that greasy fast food joint." 

"Why are you doing this for me?" She interrogated. Finally, his composure slipped, even if for just a half second. She had caught him off guard this time with that question.

"We're old friends. I'm sure you would do the same for me." Andrew tried to play his charm card, but Clara saw right through it. He should have known better, she knew him too well. 

"It humors me how much faith you seem to have in me. I think it's terribly misplaced, but I guess I'm gaining something from it, so I can't complain too much." Clara pursed her lips. "How do I apply?" 

"I'll tell them to send you an email." 

"Thank you, Andrew. Now, if you don't mind, I have some research to do." 

She saw Andrew out of her apartment, watching him walk away with a sinister smile on his face. He walked away as if she had lost, and Clara was having a really hard time convincing herself that he didn't have the advantage over her, he didn't win that one. He knew she was in a bad spot, and offering her a better side job meant she owed him, again. She really already owed him for the chance to get paid for finding the Flash, and she loathed the feeling of owing something to someone else. It could be used against her, it meant she wasn't in control. 

Clara succumbed to her seething anger. She quickly changed into a pair of sweats and slipped on some tennis shoes. She grabbed her phone and flipped through her playlists until she found the one she had so cleverly titled "Sounds of Anger", put on her headphones, and turned the volume up all the way. She made her way to the tiny workout room in the basement of the apartment building. She ran on the treadmill, music pumping, until she couldn't feel her muscles anymore. She knew she was going to be ridiculously sore the next day, but she didn't care. When she got back to her apartment, she pulled out a tub of ice-cream, plopped on the couch, found one of her favorite horror movies to watch, and shoveled spoonfuls of the cold, creamy dessert into her mouth. At some point during the movie, she fell asleep curled up with the tub of ice cream.