A.N.: Okey-dokey! I have recently fallen in love with Barry Allen and Iris West-Allen, and I just...they're so cute! I had to write for them. For all those Flash the Comic fans out there, this story doesn't follow with continuity, and it may not even follow with YJ continuity, but I like to make headcanons, so if this isn't all accurate, it is my canon. I hope you guys enjoy, and reviews would be loved! Also, I don't own YJ, the Flash, or DC Comics.

Update: I decided to refresh this story because, as I was reading over this, I found about four or so errors. I'm certain that there's more, but I just want this story to look as nice as possible. Hopefully...*sweatdrop*

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It wasn't hard to notice her. He had been at home, lounging on his enticingly comfortable couch after three buildings had decided to erupt into flames and twelve people did not get the memo that burning buildings are hot and can kill. He was tired, sore, and incredibly bored; yet still, he couldn't sleep, and out of sheer desperation, he turned on the news. Newscasters were always the most boring people with the most boring jobs, and he figured that he could at least have someone else share his boredom.

GBS News was on, and he could've cared a little less, because that news station did nothing but report the news minutes after the events had already happened. This information wouldn't bother many people, but it did bother him, because he was a right-now kind of guy. Why report the past when it's already passed. Even he, master of speed, couldn't run into the past.

Neither could any reporter.

The flashy logo appeared on the screen, and then he could see the panorama of the Central City Park. It was pretty at six o'clock, and it was six-fifteen now, and the park was especially nice. The letters disappeared, and a woman with bright green eyes and ginger hair was on television. She was talking about the increase of the pigeon population, but he hardly listened because he was too busy staring at her.

Iris West, the rectangular banner on the bottom of the screen said. Iris West. Iris West. Iris West. He vowed to watch GBS News just to watch her, just to see her for however long he could, and he wanted this program to be on every day of the week for twenty-four hours.

Her words were like swirls of soft music that must've been in some foreign language, because he couldn't make out any of it, yet he still stayed glued to the television screen, nearly screaming in anger when a program on Campfire Crafts came on.

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It wasn't hard to watch her. When he wasn't on the news, he watched her on the news. Long, red hair tied into a signature side-ponytail and green eyes that conveyed every emotion that her newscast was supposed to have. She wasn't the average reporter. She cared about her job, and everything that came with it. The good stories, the bad stories, the stories where she had to put up with a fifteen-minute interview with the Flash himself.

And he knew he was cocky. Terribly cocky because he was the fastest man alive. Faster than the Flash before him, faster than any Flash that might ever surpass him - faster than Superman.

He was faster than Superman, and that had to count for something.

Iris West was pretty. Petite, quick-witted, intelligent beyond any sort of newscaster there was, and kind. Perhaps not on-camera, but he watched her. She would sometimes walk with a small redheaded boy that resembled her; he had freckles, however, and a mischievous glint in his eyes that made it seem quite obvious that he was the type of boy who would run headfirst into traffic. But Iris kept a firm grip of his hand, occasionally stopping in the middle of the street just to listen to whatever he said.

Sometimes, he just watched her to watch her. She'd never notice, and if she did, he'd be gone before she could turn around. He'd watch as she made her morning coffee run, looking much more worn-out than she did on television. He figured it was some sort of complicated order, because someone as complicated as Iris West couldn't just order something as simple as coffee with cream.

He watched her practically run to the GBS building, still balancing her styrofoam cup like a professional anchorwoman, and skid to a halt at the crosswalk. She ran her free hand through her hair, messing up her ponytail just slightly, and began walking again. She didn't watch where she was going - she never did - and quick as a flash, he set her in the right direction. It happened nearly every day, her nearly getting run over by the busy Central City cars, and he knew that she noticed something was amiss when a gust of wind would place her on the right course, but Iris would usually chalk it up to being tired.

She would only spend a few minutes inside her work building, and then the GBS van would practically zoom out of the parking lot. There was a story that she wanted to hit before anyone else, and the determined redhead was going to make sure that she did.

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It wasn't hard to save her. Not when she practically threw herself in the line of danger, anyway. She was a go-getter, made that very obvious every time she caught the scoop before anyone else, and if it meant that she would have to get very close to a heated fight between the Flash and Professor Zoom, then so be it.

He knew about the villain's feelings for Iris. It was obsessive, possessive, terrifyingly desperate to have the redhead for his own. She, her voice, her face - it kept Professor Zoom's sanity tethered to the world.

But she could never love Zoom. He was a villain, after all, and she was dating Barry Allen. He was tall, muscular, blonde, with bright green eyes that had seen some sort of unspeakable pain that he had never divulged. She wanted to break it out of him, yet she herself knew that men kept secrets.

He would tell her when he was ready. And she did love him, after all; waiting was only expected when love was concerned.

And even if she didn't love Barry so much, Iris's heart would belong to no other. She tried to tell Zoom so, told him to kindly leave (and she had quite the set of balls, considering he could kill her without any sort of effort put into it); but he wouldn't have it. Without effort, he took her up into his arms, ignoring her loud and screechy protests. It was like King Kong holding the poor female victim - she was at his mercy, against her own will, of course.

Like a Flash, he saved her. He was quick, quicker than anyone could ever hope to be, and he effortlessly scooped her into his arms and sped away to a safe distance. He cushioned her against his red-clad chest as she shivered gently, much like she would if she were cold, though he suspected fear. Iris was strong and stubborn, with a terrible temper that could surpass even Bruce on a day when the billionaire was without his black coffee, but she was still a human. And a woman, at that. What woman wouldn't be afraid if some stalker of a super villain tried to kidnap her, and force her to be with someone that she didn't desire to be with?

A crazy woman. And Iris West wasn't crazy.

He saw red. It was a color he sort of loved, if his costume was anything to go by, but it was also the color that made him lose all sense of inhibitions. He could die at any time, on any day, and he frankly didn't care. Especially not now. He glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure that she was still there; Iris was fixing the fly-away strands of hair that had escaped from her side ponytail, but she looked relatively unharmed. The two made eye contact for just a moment, just a fleeting glance that made her stiffen and made his heart race at rates that even he didn't know was possible.

Professor Zoom was easy enough to beat. Walking away with only a few minor injuries, reporters swarmed him. Cameras flashed, and civilians cheered at their loudest voices. Iris watched, microphone in hand, as her green eyes drifted to meet his hidden ones. It was like she could see right through him, like she knew exactly who he was without being told. Iris was observant, he knew that, and that's what made it so hard.

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It wasn't hard to marry her. She loved Barry, and he loved Iris, and when he got down on one knee, she fell apart. In a good way, of course. Her habit, her running her hand through her ginger locks, came full-force that day; and she tried to cover her mouth with her trembling hand, but he could still notice the smile that permeated through.

Iris laughed through her tears and bobbed her head up and down as he gathered her into his strong arms. He kissed the top of her head, pulled her against himself, cushioned his chin on her head (because she just fit so perfectly), and smiled. He himself felt like crying, because honestly, how could anyone love him as much as she did?

"Yes. Yes. Yesyesyesyesyes," Iris said, voice quick, and perhaps a bit irrational, but high and lovely and so completely her that it would kill him if he never got to hear it every morning when he woke up.

He knew then that he wanted to wake up with her cradled in his arms, her stray hairs tickling his nose in such a way that it was not annoying but endearing; he wanted to hear her whispers of "good morning" in a voice muddled by sleep. He knew that he wanted to see Iris's lazy smile as she leaned back against his chest and promised to stay in bed for just five more minutes because she didn't have to go to work just this yet.

When they started talking more that night, Iris made sure to tell him that she didn't want to be a stay-at-home mom yet. She didn't want either of the two to give up their jobs, and she asked whether they would have to have a house, or if they just wanted a bigger apartment. And of course, he would have to be good with Wally. The boy was impressionable, painfully lonely, and Iris was about all he had.

Barry agreed with her - he knew he wasn't ready for kids. He did like his job, and he knew that Iris adored hers. Perhaps they could start with a larger apartment and work their way to a house, maybe buy some second-hand furniture if they were scrapped for money. And he loved Wally. The kid was amazingly witty, sweet, and he was ready to look out and protect the young ginger as Barry would his own son.

Iris also said that there would be no secrets, and that one made his mouth go dry. Because she didn't know.

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It was hard to tell her. He jiggled his foot against the leg of his chair, green eyes darting to and fro as he waited for his new bride to come home from work. He was going to tell her, had to tell her. He wanted to honor their "no secret" agreement, and as of this moment, he hadn't been. Iris deserved the truth, no matter how crazy it seemed.

The door swung open, and Iris huffed. She blew a piece of her bangs out of her face, muttered under her breath that she desperately needed to get her hair cut sometime soon, and smiled at him. It was a tired smile, letting him know that it had been a long day at work, but it was still one of the most beautiful sights that he had ever been blessed to see. With all his heart, he hoped that any future children of his could look just like their mother, because they would be the luckiest kids in the world.

If he could have kids.

Wally was finishing some of his math homework at the kitchen table. The freckled boy groaned and hid his face in his sleeve when he came upon one of those time-consuming long division problems. He liked to save his science homework for last, because science was his best subject, and if Wally did get stumped, he could ask Barry for help. That was one of the many perks to having a CSI worker at home.

"How was your day?" Iris asked, placing her purse on the floor haphazardly. She wasn't a neat freak, so Barry ended up being the one to clean up most of the time. Iris cooked, and he cleaned.

"Good. Not as long as yours, I take it," he answered. He knew that she could sense his nervousness, though his not bringing it up might keep her from acknowledging his fidgeting.

"Something the matter, honey?"

If there was something about Iris, she didn't stick to the mold of normal housewife. Wally glanced between his aunt and newly-acquired uncle, green eyes alight with curiosity.

Now was as good a time as any, he reasoned with himself. She should know, she had a right to know, she was his wife. And Wally should get to know, too. "Actually, I have to tell you something."

"Are you gay?"

"Wha- No. No! It's a little better than that."

Wally was now laughing, trying to cover it up with his hand, because Aunt Iris really would kill him. "What is it, Uncle Barry?" the boy asked, trying to sound polite, but really, he was only being cheeky.

"I've been hiding something from you. From both of you, actually. Iris, I...you won't believe me for a second-"

"Try me," the redhead said. She had a hint of playfulness is her eyes that was deceptive. If she got upset, Iris might choose some form of inhuman torture that could make the blonde man reconsider his entire existence.

Taking a deep breath, steeling himself, he said, "I'm the Flash. And I know that yo-"

"I know."

All it took was that simple phrase, two small words to make him look at her like she was the most stunning person on the face of the earth. Not that he didn't already believe it, but it was especially true now. Iris smiled gently and took both his hands into her smaller ones. "You talk a lot in your sleep, Barry."

Wally's face was a hilarious cross between shock and utter amazement. The ginger dropped his pencil, mouth agape, and attacked his uncle in the biggest hug possible. "No way, no way, no way! I'm your biggest fan! How could you not tell me, and Aunt Iris, is this for real?"

To prove himself, Barry pulled out his ring and pressed the button that ejected his red and yellow costume. He quickly changed and flicked the lightning bolts on the sides of his head. "Back in a Flash."

But he didn't leave. He let Wally ask all the questions a boy his age would, loud questions that were spoken in such a fast pace that Barry himself thought that the freckled boy might have been a speedster. Flash let Iris watch, smile still in place, as she kept a hand over his. It was some sort of comfort, not that he needed any, but it did keep him from jittering so much.

The three sat in the dining room, dinner forgotten (aside from Barry, who had to eat), just talking. Wally's face was locked in pure and utter bliss, because his hero, and his uncle, were the same person. And, unbeknownst to Barry, Iris was thinking the exact same thing.

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It really wasn't hard to fall in love with her.