A/N: Another prompt from Bluedog270, initially meant to be the next installment in my Drabbles fic. When I went over 3,000 words while writing, I decided it no longer qualified as drabble-length. lol. Enjoy. :)

*Big thanks to sendtherain who beta'd this for me. You're the best!

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

"Hey."

Barry jumped, both from the sound of her voice and the feel of her hands on his shoulders. She had this thing where she was always trying to massage his shoulders when she knew he was feeling worn down or stressed out. It was always somewhat impossible when he was standing, because she could hardly reach up enough to get a good angle. It felt good enough though that he usually found a smooth way to end up sitting somewhere and so she could resume her work without it seeming like he was adjusting himself simply for her convenience.

This time he did no such thing. He made no effort to make it easier for her or to let himself relax and enjoy it either as a result. When Iris wanted to soothe him, he usually wanted to be soothed. This time he was tense and wanted to relish that tension. He wanted to feel the fire burning inside him until it ate at his soul.

"Bear."

He didn't respond.

"Wanna come sit on the couch?" she tried again. Her hands glided down his back and rested on his waist, prepared to turn him so the piece of furniture in question was within his vision.

He debated. She just wanted to help him. He should let her help.

After all, if he really didn't want anyone trying to comfort him or make him feel better, he wouldn't be standing in their living room, staring blankly out onto the empty street.

He'd turn on the television instead to see all the accusations from various news stations about why the Flash hadn't been there, why he hadn't been able to save everyone, and who they were supposed to trust to keep everyone safe and alive if they couldn't trust him?

Or maybe he'd go to the top of the building or out in the middle of nowhere where he could scream at the top of his lungs.

But he didn't do either of those things. He wasn't in either of those places. He was here. In his home that he shared with Iris, where he knew Iris would be with the TV off. He hadn't even bothered to turn it on, because he knew what people would be saying. Not just the news anchors and reporters, but everyday citizens that were being interviewed and tended to as well.

He ignored calls from Joe, Cisco, Caitlin, and especially Wally, who he was sure blamed him. Barry had been trying to be a mentor as well as a friend to him in the past year. Wally could sometimes be a bit of a wild card. Maybe he would supply the anger Barry felt he needed directed at him, but there was always the chance he would sympathize, or worse, forgive him. He couldn't deal with that right now. He couldn't deal with being hated or forgiven. He didn't know what he needed but it wasn't either of those things. At least, he didn't think it was. He just didn't know. And because he didn't know, he didn't want anyone near him, because he just couldn't take any reaction period.

And yet, here he still was, in his living room with Iris, not wanting her to touch him because he just wanted to brood and lecture himself over and over. But he needed her near him, and so he couldn't leave.

Iris tugged on his arm and he let himself be led to the couch and have his shoulders massaged. He tried to maintain the tension he wanted but he couldn't. Before he could even register what she was doing, Iris was kissing Barry's neck and the skin peeking out of his shirt collar, and he was letting her. He sank back into the couch and closed his eyes. He felt her hands and lips leave him and told himself it was for the best. But moments later he felt her snuggle against him on the couch and pull a blanket over both of them without saying a word.

As long as he didn't say a word, didn't move and made sure to keep his eyes closed, he decided it was okay. He was too drained and too deep in his sorrows to decide otherwise.

…

A week later, Joe visited Iris at work. He came bearing gifts, coffee and brownies, but one look at them and she was immediately suspicious.

"Say thank you and take a break," he said before she could get a word out. "I see the circles under your eyes. If you can't see mine, you're lying."

She sighed and nodded before turning to Linda who waved her off. She grabbed her purse and her coat and went with her dad outside.

"How's he doing?" Joe asked when they were halfway down the block.

Iris thought about teasing him, but given the circumstances, getting right to the point was probably best for all parties involved.

"Not good," she said. "He doesn't talk much anymore and he doesn't come to bed right away. When he does sleep, it's usually only for a couple hours and then he stays downstairs doing God knows what."

"He only sleeps for two hours?" Joe frowned.

"He doesn't need much sleep, remember?" she said.

"What about when you confront him? Does he deny that something's bothering him?"

"There's no need," she said. "He sees the way I look at him. There's an understanding there. He's gone before I can even get a word out."

"He knows though," Joe said hopefully. "He knows what happened isn't his fault. That nobody blames him."

"The whole city has been blaming him, dad."

"He's done a lot of good in the past week," Joe insisted. "Crime is practically nonexistent. I'm assuming most of that is getting taken care of in the middle of the night when you're sleeping and he's not."

She nodded. "The light's always on downstairs, so I assume he's there. But I haven't been getting much sleep myself, so I probably wouldn't even realize if he's left to prevent a crime and come back in under two minutes."

"Maybe you should talk to him again," he suggested.

She sighed. "Dad-"

"Maybe hold something over his head, tell him you'll leave him if he doesn't—"

"Dad!" Her eyes widened. He looked at her completely serious. "I…that…" She slumped in on herself and said very quietly, "He would never believe me. He knows I wouldn't leave him over something like this, if ever."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just thinks it's a matter of time before everyone closest to him feels the same way the media does, including you."

She shook her head.

"I've talked to the others," he told her. "Cisco, Caitlin, even Wally. None of them ever blamed him. They've told him so too and apparently he's put up a hell of an act saying he believes them in response and actually thanks them for understanding."

"He knows it," she said, nodding. "And he is grateful. That's not the problem anymore."

Joe sighs because the assumption is there, as it always has been.

"Barry is his own worst enemy. If he doesn't start believing what he's saying, what the people that matter, the ones who love him the most are saying, then—"

"I know." She took a deep breath. "I'll talk to him."

…

When Barry walked in the door that night, he almost went straight up the stairs and collapsed from lack of sleep. Truth be told, of the couple hours he'd spent laying in bed with Iris, he'd slept maybe half an hour. The last three days he hadn't gotten any sleep whatsoever. He made sure he still got his regular intake of food, because the Flash didn't take a break, especially one that screwed up as horribly as he had. Having super speed allowed his body to recover in the little sleep spurts he gave himself. He didn't need any more than that just to function, but he was starting to think he was approaching his limit.

Tonight he would sleep. Maybe he'd even go to bed right now. That would probably make Iris happy. Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not. She'd worry less if he slept more tonight, but she wouldn't appreciate him just going to bed without even a 'hey, how was your day?' Despite everything, he'd at least been able to center their conversations on her.

He didn't like distancing himself from her. She hadn't snapped yet, but it was only a matter of time. She knew he was struggling and she wasn't pushing him. He needed her to push him. He needed her to yell and scream at him about how she couldn't take the lack of communication, and she would leave him if he didn't fix whatever the hell was wrong with him. And he wouldn't be able to fix himself and she would leave and he could wallow even more properly than he'd been able to thus far.

The hell in his mind and heart and soul that engulfed him more and more with each passing day would become a whole different level of nightmare if Iris left him though. Somehow he had to prevent that. She was loyal to a fault, but everyone has their breaking point. What if this was hers?

The war going on inside him allowed him no peace. The only thing that gave him any semblance of relief was when he went out saving people as The Flash. Then he had to keep his focus or people wouldn't get saved. He couldn't allow that to happen again. He was supposed to keep this city safe, not let hundreds of people get killed because he'd underestimated just how powerful one metahuman was.

The sound of Iris clearing her throat broke him out of the trance he seemed to constantly be under. Just as well, since he'd only made it onto the first step.

He turned and looked toward the sound, only to find Iris wearing the dress she'd worn on their first date. She was behind the kitchen table where steaming food lay on two plates, watering his taste buds. For the first time in over a week, he craved food because it would taste good, not just for sustenance. The lights were off in the kitchen and living room too. All that lit the area between them were two tall candles positioned in the middle of the table.

"Iris," he choked, because she looked amazing. The food smelled amazing. And all of this was so completely unexpected and wonderful that he couldn't even feel guilty or resistant about it.

He watched her come around the table and walk towards him in higher heels than she'd worn on that first date. He didn't back away. He didn't say no. For once, he had trouble thinking clearly and it had nothing to do with a guilt trip from himself or anyone else. He'd tried to maintain his relationship with Iris by keeping the focus on her, but by doing so he'd thought so much about how to keep the focus off him that he hadn't really taken the time to look at her. He saw in hindsight the circles under her eyes, the weariness from attempts at comforting him that had been rejected time and time again. He saw it all.

But before he could feel guilty for that in addition to everything else, Iris had pulled him down by the lapels of his shirt and kissed him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him harder, forcing his lips apart, forcing him to taste her.

"Iris," he slurred, wrapping his arms around her waist and walking forward as she walked back towards their dinner.

She stopped when they reached the table and pulled away to look into his eyes. There was a hunger there that she hadn't seen in awhile. He was present. And he was real. She hadn't seen that in a while either.

"Come sit with me," she said, releasing his hand once she got him to his chair.

She felt his hungry stare follow her as she rounded the table.

"If you're good, maybe I'll let you touch me later." Her little teasing smirk of accomplishment widened into a grin when he flushed.

This is good, she assured herself. He wasn't hiding behind a façade they both knew was moot.

With some effort, Barry managed to tear his eyes away from the gorgeous girl sitting across from him and promptly began to devour the food on his plate. His enthusiasm, using no super speed whatsoever, almost made Iris wonder if he was faking it. If he was just doing it to undress her though, she was fine with that too. She'd begun to ache for his touch. The kiss just now had been meant to seduce him into spending some immediate time with her; but it had awakened the fire she'd manage to keep at bay all week because she thought he needed space to process everything that had happened and forgive himself. Maybe, she thought now, part of his healing should've been sex.

"Good?" she asked after he'd finished his meal and leaned back in his chair. The question was unnecessary. He looked every bit the satisfied puppy.

"That was amazing, Iris," he told her with all sincerity.

She wiped her mouth and got to her feet, napkin in hand. Very slowly she bent over so her lips were almost level with his. Then just before she looked about to kiss him, and she saw him even start to lean into it, she wiped the bit of food that stuck to the corner of his lips and stood back up again. His initial look of deprivation made her laugh.

"You're a tease," he said when he could finally manage to look up enough to meet the glint of laughter in her eyes.

She smiled a moment more, but then the light and happy atmosphere faded around her.

"I'd be happy to fulfill any wish you might have, Barry." She laid herself gently on his lap, open to her from him leaning back in his chair. "I just need you to do something for me first."

The anything would've been on his lips in a heartbeat only moments ago. Now it hovered, unsure if it should be let out into the open.

She closed the distance between them and kissed his lips gently. He responded, but only just barely.

"Let me in, Barry," she whispered and got a sigh in response.

The moment was shattered. She wondered if it would ever be reformed.

"Iris…"

Irritation this time. Not longing, not forced happiness, not exhaustion. Irritation.

She stood up before he could push her off.

"Enough, Barry."

It was as if she'd slapped him or dropped a porcelain plate on the floor, so firm and angry was the tone of her voice.

"I've let you wallow for a week. I've let you drown your sorrows. I haven't pushed. I haven't done anything but try to be there for you, and you've still stayed away. You're in too deep this time. You have to forgive yourself or—"

"Or what?" he asked. And she knew he was bracing himself.

The threat Joe had suggested to her hung in the air. She knew it had been on Barry's mind now, knew she didn't have it in her to pretend she would enforce it. It would be a bluff, even if in Barry's current state of mind he couldn't see it.

"You did the best you could, Barry," she said, more gentle this time but just as unyielding.

He looked away from her.

"So many people died, Iris." He turned to look at her. "People don't die when the Flash is around. People get saved."

She started to reach out for him, to cradle his face in her palm, but he sped away before she could touch him.

"I brought so much…evil to the city when I came back from Flashpoint. I was so…selfish and I caused so much harm to the people I love all because I couldn't handle the grief of my father being killed right in front of me and his doppelganger showing up the next day."

"Barry…" she said softly, approaching him from behind. "You know I don't blame you for that." He turned to face her. "I waited, just like I said I would. If you had never come back, I would have understood that too. No one deserves a happy ending more than you do."

He ran his hand through his hair and started to walk away again.

"I just…I know it's been a long time. And I known those villains have been dealt with. But I just can't help but feeling that every time I fall short, it's my punishment for changing things." He stopped and looked at her. "I can't win. I don't deserve to be happy."

"That's not true. And if you can't see that—"

"What? You'll leave me? You should."

"Stop it. Stop that right now." She strode towards him and gripped his arms in her hands. "I love you, Barry. You can't let yourself sink away like this. You have to cherish what you have now. But how can you if you're stuck in past mistakes?" He opened his mouth but she continued before he was able to get a word out. "This last metahuman? All those lives? You saved a lot of lives, Barry. A hundred and counting."

"Iris—"

"I'm not dismissing those other people. It was a horrible loss. No one feels that more than you. But deep down, even all those families who are bitter at you right now, they understand how you can only do so much. Death is a part of life. You need to remember that as much as they do."

He sighed and swallowed, sinking into himself but not away from her.

"It just hurts so much."

She nodded and hugged him.

"I know, Bear. I know it does."

He hugged her back tightly and relief rippled through her.

"Tell me you forgive me."

"Bear—"

"Tell me. If you tell me, I'll believe you. And starting tomorrow, I'll try to believe it's not my fault. I'll try to move forward and focus on the people I have saved and will save instead of the people I wasn't able to. I'll try to—"

"I forgive you, Barry," she said, because he needed to hear it. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, willing him to believe the words he was saying even though for her there was nothing to forgive. "I forgive you."

She saw him visibly relax and nod.

"Okay," he said. "Thank you."

She looked at him sadly – 'there's nothing to forgive' on the tip of her tongue, but she held it at bay.

"Come to bed tonight, Barry," she said softly. "And don't leave."

He lowered his head to kiss her, let the passion build, and sped her upstairs to their bedroom. He took her as he had the first time – slow, soft and gentle; knowing that whatever the future held they would be in it together, and he would be okay as long as she was at his side.

...

A/N: It should be noted that I wrote this before I watched 3x01, so I was unaware that the 2x23 kiss was going to be erased or that Joe & Iris wouldn't be on speaking terms. However this does take place at least a year after Barry returns from Flashpoint, so things could be resolved on both those fronts. I heard spoilers that part of that conversation w/ Iris in 2x23 may have still happened, so there's that.