Alan Wake Lockdown, Baby

 It wasn't strange for women to be around Alan when they hit the town, swarming the handsome author despite the ring on his hand up until they got the message loud and clear, leaving disappointed. It wasn't strange for men, either, which always made Barry raise an eyebrow. Not in confusion, no, there was nothing to be confused about; Alan was a catch, objectively speaking (they wouldn't be making the money they did if he wasn't); but he was also so, very, blatantly straight, Barry couldn't for the life of him wonder why they'd even take the chance in the first place.

 Regardless, they persisted. Men with fine attire that he wouldn't clock as gay if it weren't for the way they looked at his friend. For the way they touched him, casually, yet with intent.

 At this point of the night Alan was probably too drunk to tell, Barry reasoned as he watched from the other side of the bar, having finished his part of the socialities already and quickly picking a couple somethings to snack before heading back, alarms going off on his mind. That must be it.

 Slipping an arm around his back and the snack inside his ringed hand -making the metal shine with the light in the process- the best agent and best friend in the entire world sat heavily at his side, announcing.

 "Sorry fellas, this man's already taken." Luckily none of them saw the absence of a match on naked fingers, eyeing him up and down before scattering around. The way it took a few seconds for Alan to react gave him a cue of his state. The way he slid further into his arm, comfortably, answered the rest of his questions. The man was beyond salvation at this point, it was a good thing he spotted him before anything bad happened. A homophobia lawsuit and newspaper headline over a broken nose were the very last things Barry needed on his plate.

 "Seriously?" He snorted. "Are you my wife now?"

 "Seriously, Al. Are they still around?" He asked, smiling sardonically at the comment but refusing to answer it. Alan raised an eyebrow, amusement showing easier than most days as he scanned behind them languidly, while Barry did the same for any hidden paparazzi. He shrugged eventually.

 "You could say that."

 "Are they looking at us?"

 "...Yeah, sure. Why...?"

 Barry grumbled under his breath before cupping the back of Alan's neck with his hand, leaning further on that tight space in just the right way to fool anyone watching. A kiss, a simple brush of lips against his friend's warm, warm cheek that seen from the wrong angle could have been planted on unsuspecting lips. Alan just let an acknowledging noise when they parted without moving an inch. Barry was glad he was exempt from his fight of flight response.

 "What, what was that for?"

 "That's me saving your skin, Al." He whispered, still close enough to be heard. "Those guys over there were totally checking your out."

 This close he could feel him take a deep breath. In discomfort at the idea, no doubt. Disgust, even.

 "Were they?"

 "I know right?" Barry laughed, arm still comfortably and protectively wrapped around his best friend's shoulders, hand playing with his hair in reassurance as his taller, drunker frame leaned slightly onto him in that small couch. With his other hand he started chewing on the food. "Good thing they bought it, huh? Tell me they scattered by now."

 A both quick and lethargic look around the busy club came back empty, and Alan ate deep in thought as Barry tried to change the subject to the deals he had been making, before licking the salt off his fingers and slowly downing the rest of his drink.

 "Hey, Barry."

 "Yeah?"

 "What would you've done if they hadn't buy that?" Barry hummed, shifting a bit on his seat without wanting to think too much about it. The thought made him feel funny. The thought, and having Alan pressed against him the way he was in that moment.

 "You don't wanna know, Al." Now it was his friend's turn to laugh at the dramatic statement.

 "Give me a break."

 "I'm being serious! Think about it this way: when haven't I done anything to keep people out of your back?"

 Alan looked at him, bemusement mixing with a certain drowsiness on his eyes. Call it sleep or skepticism. Barry called it that, at least.

 "Anything?" He repeated.

 "Anything." He enounced, dead serious. Alan was the writer, the artist, between the two, but Barry was a goddamn miracle maker. He could talk his way in and out of anything, if he so wanted. Didn't even need to talk, in this case.

 Not that he wanted to, here and now, of course.

 But if the situation were to ask for it. Well. Barry could think a couple ways to keep the wrong crowd away from him. If they didn't get the memo from his ring, his wife, and everything else about Alan, Barry would make sure they knew that man wasn't up to be shared with.

 "...C'mon hotshot, lets get you home." he joked, finally, throat dry and having grown wary of playing with the hair at the back of his neck with his thumb, as Alan looked like he was starting to melt against him and the backside of the couch. This close he could feel the shiver that went down his spine, sighing deeply.

 "Let's go, then. My hero."

 Barry chuckled at the sarcasm, helping him get up with an arm around his waist and trying not to get toppled over by his added weight. He didn't wonder about it often, but sometimes he had to ask himself, did Al knew how much he would do for him? The lengths he would go for him? Glancing at the people around him, he unintentionally pulled him a bit closer.