The chime of her phone turns Iris's attention away from the in-progress article on her laptop screen that isn't even close to being complete. She's glad she decided not to ignore the alert when she sees that the message she received is from Barry. The longing ache in her chest reminds her of her husband's now twenty-one-day, twenty-night absence (yes, she was keeping track, and unabashedly so) for a special month-long Justice League operation.
Just because he has the ability to race from his location to hers in a matter of seconds doesn't mean he has the authority to: the dangerous missions the League undertook were serious and secluded, and she dreads whenever Barry breaks the news that he's been called away again because she knows she has to prepare herself for the lonely nights to come.
Except on those nights when he finds the time and space to contact her in some capacity. Since he opted to text her instead of call tonight, she figures it must mean he's around the other League members, likely in a confidential meeting. That he would still sneak a message to her no matter the stakes warms her heart.
You up? his message reads.
She types out an eager response: Early deadline tomorrow morning. I procrastinated. I deserve it.
I should let you get back to work then, he replies. What time is it over there, anyway? It has to be late.
She texts back rapidly: It's fine, Bear, really. Don't go. She then adds, I miss you.
Right now she has no care for articles or deadlines. She would stay up an extra hour, or even all night to finish if she had to as long as it meant she could talk to Barry.
After a minute, her phone sounds again: I miss you too, Iris. More than I love you lol
She shakes her head fondly at his dramatics.
And how much is that? Have you figured out how to mathematically quantify that in some way, like the nerd that you are?
She can practically see the cunning look on his face, as though he were right in front of her: Haha. I may be working on it…
He sends a follow-up message while she's still typing: But not until I discover the scientific basis behind your smile.
She backspaces her original message, opting for a single word: Smooth.
Once that text has been delivered, she proceeds to send him a heart emoji, separately, on its own.
Iris actually dislikes the prominent use of emojis that have come to dominate virtual conversation. She has, on several instances, gone on a tirade against the impact they've had on millennial expression and articulation. "They're cute, fun, and occasionally provocative, but nothing can ever replace the power of words," she'd always insist to whoever was lucky enough to be on the listening end of these rants. She can't help it, she's a writer.
But sometimes, with Barry, a heart is warranted.
Wow I earned myself an emoji? She rolls her eyes affectionately. She knew he was going to point it out. I love it when you eat your words, or should I say your emojis? He inserts a winking face emoji himself.
I have my exceptions, she states simply.
So do I, he texts back. Like the exception to my dignity while I sit here, in the middle of this meeting with all these big shot superheroes, thinking about you.
Iris smirks at the turn the conversation is taking. She had a feeling Barry's decision to shoot her a late-night text might have possibly been influenced by what her fellow millennials referred to as thirst. She may not approve of all her generation's habits and idioms, but she does approve of some: Barry is thirsty. And she isn't going to deny that she is too.
She keeps it casual: What exactly are you thinking about?
His reply is instant. Right now? Your legs, he admits.
She pauses. My legs are missing something in between them. SOMEONE in between them. She has to set her phone down for a moment to laugh after typing that one. Admittedly, neither of them are refined sexters if there were ever such a thing. Usually, the first filthy message she sends Barry is enough to have him over in a heartbeat, so they don't get to practice much.
She supposes practice makes perfect.
Goddammit, Iris. She loves the rare occasion when Barry swears, which usually happened to coincide with when he was hot and bothered. If I wasn't at this meeting right now, and sitting next to Hal too, of all people…
She chuckles. You have super speed. Make use of it.
I don't know that I'm bold enough to do THAT in public. She pictures the horrific, but intrigued expression he must be wearing.
There's a first time for everything. Like sexting, apparently.
Hey, can you blame me? he defends. Three weeks is a long time.
Even for The Flash?
Especially for The Flash.
The pining Iris detects in the words across her screen makes her retract the thirsty label she stamped on him to replace with sincere yearning. If he's feeling anything close to the throbbing she feels deep within her core when she thinks about how much time has passed since she's been with him, then her heart goes out to him in sympathy.
She decides to try her best to have their conversation end on an optimistic tone. It's all she can do to make him feel better before she has to go back to her work.
Hmmm, how ever shall we make up for all this time apart?
I have a few ideas. It reassures her to see that he appears to be playful again.
So do I.
We should see if our "ideas" match up.
I think you're aware that they do, she teases.
Several minutes pass, and Iris thinks perhaps Barry had to leave. She's about to put her phone away to finish her article when it chimes once more:
But you know I'm needy and I wanna hear you say it (or see you say it. You can tell me in person next week too though).
She does nothing to suppress the shameless smile that overtakes her features. Yes. That you're needy is something I definitely know. And kind of love.
This time, Barry is the one to send a solo heart.
Then it's set, she types out enthusiastically. I'll save the dirty talk for when you see me next week.
Believe that I'm looking forward to it.
FYI…you'll be seeing a lot more than just that. She follows her message with a flirty emoji for good measure.
