Barry Allen is usually a neat, tidy person. All his clean clothes are folded or hung right away, his dirty clothes are always tossed in the hamper and on never the floor, his bed is always made every morning, and every knickknack has its place on his shelf. Iris likes to tease him about how neat he is (she's not messy per se, but she doesn't always clean up right away), but he can't help it. It's in his nature.
Today though, most of Barry's clothes are strewn haphazardly over the back of his desk chair. A black suit is laid out carefully on his bed, surrounded by a pile of dress shirts and ties, all of various colors.
Barry holds up a green dress shirt. It's his favorite one because Iris had picked it out, saying it brought out his eyes. He's only ever worn it once, at this past year's science fair that he ended up winning. That must mean something, right?
No, Barry, the logical, scientific part of his brain tells him. Your shirt did not make you win the science fair. Correlation does not imply causation. Wearing it does not mean junior prom will go exactly as you hope it will.
And he knows that, honestly he does, but he just might be the unluckiest guy alive and he really needs something to cling to, no matter how illogical, to be able to muster up what he wants to finally tell her at junior prom. The words have been thrumming inside his chest for so long, desperate to escape.
(I love you, Iris. For the longest time, I've had these feelings for you and I didn't know what it was. All I knew was that I felt it so strongly, it was like it was a part of me. And I know this might be strange because I live with you and we're best friends, but I think I finally figured it what it means. I love you.)
((His speech is a work in progress. He hopes he still has enough time to fine-tune it.))
Everything about junior prom needs to be perfect to lead up to his confession. It's not every day a guy tells his childhood best friend that he loves her, you know?
Is the green shirt trying too hard though? Maybe he should go with blue? Or classic white? Maybe all black? Iris had said a guy in an all black suit ensemble had looked good once. Maybe he's overthinking this though.
He groans and decides to call in reinforcements. Pulling out his flip phone from his pocket, he punches in the number of his other childhood friend, Barney Sands.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" Barney greets.
"Hey, Barn. I need to ask you some advice," Barry says.
Barney, who is used to Barry asking for advice, says, "Sure. Go ahead."
"What should I wear to junior prom?" Barry asks.
There's a prolonged silence and Barry has to stare at his screen to make sure his crappy phone didn't drop the call.
"Dude, how the hell should I know?" Barney asks, sounding bewildered. "Why don't you ask Iris for help?"
"I can't ask her!" Barry chokes out, stressed at the very idea of it.
"Why the hell not?" Barney asks exasperatedly. "She's your best friend and she's a girl!"
"Because... because..." Barry struggles to come up with an adequate response that doesn't reveal his crush on Iris and how nervous he gets about this kind of stuff and he can't ask because he doesn't want her knowing just how much of a mess he is. It leaves him flailing his arms around as he thinks of what to say. "I just—she's so—I mean—ugh, can't you just help me out, Barney!"
Barney snorts, used to his friend's antics. "Alright. Chillax, dude. I'll help."
Barry calms down from his agitation. "Thank you."
"Okay, first things first, what color is her dress?" Barney asks.
Barry's eyes widen comically as he slaps himself on the forehead. "Oh my god."
"Oh my god?" Barney repeats. "Do you not know the color of her dress?"
"No! I totally forgot that prom dates are supposed to match!"
"Dude! How do you forget that? That's like prom one-oh-one!"
"I've never been to prom before!"
"No offense, bro, but you're kind of a dumbass."
Barry groans, knowing it to be true. "No offense taken."
"You realize this means you have to ask Iris for help, right?" Barney says. "You gonna be okay with that or are you gonna freak out like earlier?"
He swallows nervously. "I'll be okay." He hopes so anyway. "Bye, Barn. Thanks anyway."
"No problem, Barry. See ya." The line clicks dead.
Barry has to take several deep, calming breaths to prepare himself. Don't let her know you're nervous about junior prom. Don't let her suspect anything is up. Iris is super insightful and highly curious, so make sure to act normal. She might jump into a wild conclusion like you're planning to do the whole lose your virginities together on prom night cliche and—
Oh god, he needs to stop that line of thought right now. Why did he think about that? Stop thinking about that. Don't be a perv, Barry! Don't be a perv!
He shakes his head, trying to get ahold of himself. Just ask Iris for help on what to wear for junior prom. That's so simple. It shouldn't be hard at all.
"Hey, Iris?" he calls out. There are so many different disadvantages in living with your crush (one being her dad is right down the hall!) but one of the advantages is that she's so close by. "Could I talk to you for a second?"
Moments later, his door creaks open and Iris' head pops in. "Whoa. Did a tornado hit your room or something, Mister Clean?"
"Haha," he says dryly. His palms start to feel sweaty and god, why is this so hard? "I'm just trying to figure out what to wear."
"Ooh, like for a date?" she asks excitedly, entering his room fully now.
He tries not to let it get to him that she's not even the teensiest bit jealous of the idea of him dating some other girl. They're best friends. She just wants him to be happy.
"No, like for prom," he says, a little nervously. He knows he shouldn't be nervous, since Barney had said it's pretty standard for guys to ask their dates about it, but he's feeling extremely self-conscious right now. Iris is literally the prettiest girl he's ever met and he's this lanky, string bean who barely knows how to control his gangly limbs.
"Um..." Iris glances at the pile of dress shirts on his bed. "I don't know, Barry. I guess I would go with a white shirt, black suit combo?" she says unsurely. This seems more like a thing he should ask her dad, but she knows he feels weird about things like that sometimes. "Can't go wrong with the classic look, right?"
"Classic, right," he says, nodding. "What about the tie though?"
"Um..." She crosses over to the bed, examining all of the neckwear items laid out. She absentmindedly fingers a red bow tie she had gotten him as a gag gift awhile ago (they had an inside joke about him looking like Milo from Atlantis). The scarlet shade matches her own prom dress. Not that she tells him that. She dispels the thought, cheeks heating slightly, and refocuses her attention on his ties. "I'm not sure. I helped you choose almost all of these ties, so any of them would do."
She cringes, wishing she could be more help, but she honestly thinks he'd look good in any of those ties. He seems really anxious about it and it probably has to do with how excited he is about prom. It's all he could talk about for weeks. He had even saved up money to rent a limo for it!
"But we have to match, right? So, like, um, what color is your dress?"
Iris starts, a blue tie slipping from her fingers as she stares up at him. She blinks twice, unsure if she heard him correctly. The way he's looking at her, so expectantly, she knows she heard it right. Only...
"Hey, yeah, um, since when are we going to prom?" she asks, brow furrowed in confusion. She had assumed they'd be going as a group with their friends, but matching implied certain things.
He blinks twice, mouth parting slightly. What is she talking about? His heart drops. Wait. Did she not want to go together anymore? Did she get a better offer? No, no. Iris isn't like that. She isn't mean and she keeps her promises. So if it wasn't that, then what...
His eyes widen in alarm. Did he not ask her? He tries to think back. They had talked about a limo. They had talked about where they wanted to go for dinner before prom. But that was pretty normal since they usually went to dances together as a group with other friends. Had he really not asked her?
When he realizes that no, he in fact had not actually asked Iris to prom, he sinks down slowly onto his desk chair. Fuck my life, he thinks, slumping his shoulders. How could he have planned his whole junior prom night while forgetting the single most important detail? He is such an idiot.
"Barry?" Iris says, concerned, but it's like he doesn't hear her.
"Shit," he whispers very quietly. He hangs his head, praying that lightning would just strike him now. "I forgot to ask you."
His eyes are squeezed shut, so he doesn't see Iris biting on her lower lip as she asks, "You were going to ask me?"
He really can't believe how badly he blew this. Unluckiest guy alive. Forcing himself to look at her, he swallows the lump in his throat and admits, "Um, well, yeah."
Um, well, yeah? That's all he can say? Why are words failing him right now? Usually, his problem is word vomit! Why is anything regarding his feelings for her so hard to say? Why is he such a mess?
Iris draws closer, carefully perching herself on his desk. He's on edge, distress lines all over his face. Her heart pangs for him. She knows the social stuff isn't easy for him sometimes. She reaches out and touches his shoulder lightly, watching the tension slowly leave his body as he leans into her touch.
"It's okay, you know," Iris says, offering him a smile. "You don't have to be embarrassed."
"I just feel like an idiot," he groans. "I can't believe I forgot to ask. I had everything planned."
She rubs his shoulder consolingly. "Even the best laid plans go awry, Bar. It's nothing to beat yourself up about."
"But I had it all planned!" he bursts out. "I was going to go to that bakery you like with those mocha cupcakes—"
"The one with expresso buttercream frosting?" she asks, mouth watering a little at the thought.
"Yeah. The cupcakes were going to spell out 'prom?' and everything." He doesn't mention the banner and balloons he had also planned to go with the cupcakes. The fact that he had come up with such an elaborate way to ask but had forgotten to follow through is just too frustrating.
"That's such a sweet idea, Bar," Iris says softly, heart warmed that he would even think of going the extra mile to ask her like that.
"Well, you do have a huge sweet tooth," he says weakly. He's not sure if it makes it better or worse that she seems to like his idea. God, he is such an idiot.
She laughs and the sound makes him feel lighter. "You're such a dork."
"I know."
Iris pulls her hand back onto her lap, playing with a frayed thread. Biting her lip, she says, "You can still ask me, you know."
"I—uh—w-what?" he stammers, growing red in the face. He had not been expecting this turn of events. "You mean you aren't going with anyone yet?"
"A few guys asked," she admits, nose scrunching as she thinks of Tony Woodward. "But I turned them down."
"But you'd say yes to me?" he asks, gaping. His heart is practically leaping right now. His brain is screaming. !
"I don't know," she says coyly. "You haven't asked me yet."
"Oh, um..." Oh god, why can't he speak? What are words? Ack. Brain. Come on. "Will you... I know I don't have any cupcakes or anything, but, um, will you go to prom with me, Iris?"
He tries not to wince. He had come up with such a great plan and here he is, asking her in the least smooth way. Goddammit.
"Red," she says simply.
His brow furrows. Red? Was that some new way to say no? Had his brain actually short-circuited or something? "What?"
She grins coquettishly. That is not a grin he's used to seeing directed at him. It's pretty disarming. How is his brain not mush yet?
"The color of my dress is red."
Barry blinks rapidly, unable to stop himself from grinning widely in response. "Is that a yes?"
"Of course, it's a yes, silly," she says, hopping off the desk to give him a hug.
It's awkward at first, with him still sitting down, but he rises so he can fully appreciate the hug. She sinks into his arms and it feels like home. He wonders if she feels it, too. He would hold her forever if he could. Iris...
But eventually she pulls away and he takes a step back to maintain proper distance.
"I'm glad you asked me," she confesses, peering up at him shyly.
Oh god. His brain sort of melts (again) and his heart skips a beat when she looks at him like that. A little breathlessly, he says, "Me too." And a little boldly, he adds, "You're the only one I want to go to junior prom with."
She blinks, surprised, and there's a terrifying second where he thinks he might've ruined everything, but a slow smile stretches across her lips. "Really?"
His heart hammers in his chest. This is it, the moment of truth. The words bubble up inside him, nearly on the tip of his tongue (I lo...) but he chokes it down when she lightly knocks her shoulder into his, lingering in his space.
"Only you, Barry Allen, would be so excited about prom planning that you forget to ask your date to the actual prom," she teases, beaming at him.
He can't lose this, he realizes, can't lose this easy affection and closeness he has with her. Telling her would change everything and he's not sure if he could handle it. He can't lose her. Not Iris. Not his Iris.
"Silly me," he says, rubbing the back of his neck and forcing a grin. "I'm like an absentminded professor, you know that."
Coward, a traitorous part of his brain hisses.
"Oh, Bar, what am I going to do with you?" she says affectionately, eyes softened on him. She cares about him, he knows. It might not be in the same way he cares about her, but she still cares. That's enough for him.
"C'mon," he says, a real grin replacing the fake one. "I owe you a cupcake."
Junior prom night, he thinks as she squeals and loops her arm through his. He'll tell her on junior prom night.
"You're shaping up to be the best prom date already, Barry Allen."
"You're already the perfect date, Iris West."