~fake relationship au prompt from tumblr aka my favorite trope in the world~
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Barry is in the middle of his Organic Chemistry class when he gets the call. He's a good student—consistently managing straight A's on all his exams, always asking questions, and genuinely interested in the subject. But he's got this one fatal flaw that he's somehow managed to carry over from his childhood—he's always late, for some reason or another. Sometimes his excuses are valid, sometimes they're not.
So it's quite unfortunate, really, with his orgo professor being the super-strict, no-nonsense-no-excuses stickler for the rules that she is, that he's already managed to land himself on her shit-list.
It's for this reason in particular that he knows he should ignore the buzzing in his pocket, already drawing the attention of some of his peers sitting nearby in the closely-packed proximity of the lecture hall, should really just turn his phone off without a second thought and direct his full attention back to the notes on alkanes and cycloalkanes that he's supposed to be taking.
To answer it now would mean invoking the wrath of his professor, and seeing as he stumbled into the room well after she had started her lecture this morning, that's really not a road he wants to go down. But when he extracts the cell phone from his pocket, fully prepared to press 'ignore,' and sees who it is that's calling him, he knows he's doomed.
Never in his life has he been able to ignore Iris, or turn her down, not even all the times their senior year of high school when she had insisted that they skip school to go on secret little adventures together, or the one when he helped her sneak out the house to go to her first party after Joe had vehemently refused to let her go. He supposes it must be another one of his tragic flaws, although if that is the case he still wouldn't trade it for anything. He sighs and resigns himself to his fate.
He's sitting towards the back of the room anyway, so he hopes that he won't draw too much attention as he gets up to leave, but it feels as though every eye in the room is on him as he stammers his 'I'm sorry's' and 'Excuse me's,' squeezing past the people in his row, making far more noise than he'd like.
He feels his professor's hawk-eyed glare on his back as he gently moves to push the door open, only managing to generate the loud, creaking noises he had been very much hoping to avoid. He cringes—the sound seems unfairly amplified throughout the lecture hall.
Before he slips out of the room he throws an embarrassed, apologetic glance over his shoulder, briefly making eye-contact with his professor and hoping that she won't hate him too much. It's not as though he's required to be there, and there's no rule stating that students are not allowed to leave whenever they please, but he still feels guilty.
It's a shame, really—he really likes her and admires her teaching style, and he doesn't think that she hates him, per-say, just doesn't tolerate his tardiness or stunts like these. He sighs and vows to visit her office hours later and apologize before inching the door closed behind him and tapping the button to accept Iris's call.
He doesn't even manage to get a hello out before Iris's voice is in his ear, panicky and strained.
"Barry! Oh my god, I'm so glad you picked up—I need to talk to you. I'm not bothering you or anything, am I? Are you busy? If you're busy I'll call back later."
Barry sighs and shakes his head ruefully before answering, hoping she doesn't try to look up his schedule later to make sure he's not lying. She's done it before, after she found out he'd been texting her back in the middle of his required English class, and had scolded him about it for days afterward. 'Just because it's not science doesn't mean it's not important, Barry Allen. You have to pay attention!' had been the angry text he'd received on that occasion.
"No, no, of course not. I was just—I'm, uh, in my dorm. What's up? Is everything okay? You sound stressed."
"I messed up, Bar," she groans, and his curiosity is immediately peaked. Iris is stubborn and proud, and even though she makes sure to acknowledge her mistakes in other ways, she rarely outright admits to being wrong about anything,
"I told—well, okay, don't hate me, but I was out with some friends last night, and there's this guy who sort of hangs out with us but who won't leave me alone, keeps trying to flirt with me and shit even though I've made it clear I'm really not interested, you know? One of those."
Barry knows all too well what 'one of those' is, because Iris dealt with a lot of them in high school, and she's ranted to him about them more times than he can count. He narrows his eyes and wishes he could tell this guy off in person, because how dare anyone disrespect Iris West.
He takes a deep breath to calm himself. "He sounds gross, I'm sorry Iris. Is everything okay now? Do you need me to come down there and kick his butt?"
He hears Iris snicker on the other line and can't help but smile as he imagines the way her face lights up when she laughs.
"Please, Barry, we both know if anyone was gonna kick this guy's butt, I'd be more than capable of doing it myself. But thanks anyway—it's the thought that counts," he's about to tell her that duh, of course he knew that, that he knows better than anyone that Iris's is more than capable of taking care of herself—and has a stellar left-hook, too—but she cuts him off before he can.
"That's…that's not the problem though. The problem is…um, well, I sort of, kind of, might have told him that you were my boyfriend? I thought it would make him back off, and it worked, I think, but he still tried to get me to go to this party with him this weekend and I told him that I was already taking you and—oh my god, Barry, I am so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking but it was all I could think of at the time."
Iris sounds nervous and out-of-breath by the time she's done talking, and it's all Barry can do not to drop his phone as it nearly slides through his numb fingers.
His stomach is churning, and his heart is pounding wildly in his chest, and it's a good thing he's so close to a bathroom, because he just might lose his breakfast. He knows what Iris is asking, and he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at the cruel irony of being faced with the prospect of pretending to be Iris's boyfriend.
She doesn't know exactly how much it's killing him, of course, because he's never told her, and he can't blame her for that. But she needs his help, and he never can turn her down when she needs help, and besides—what kind of friend would he be if he left Iris to deal with a guy like this alone when he could help her get rid of him for good?
When a few moments pass and he still hasn't responded, Iris breaks through his thoughts again, sounding miserable.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't even have told you, I shouldn't be asking you this—it's not fair to you. I just thought it'd be an excuse to see you again, too, since I haven't seen you since we both left for college, but this was a really poor way of going about it, huh?"
He swallows hard, working past the lump in his throat and struggling very hard to keep his voice as even and calm as possible.
"I'll go. I mean, I'll come with you to this party, if it means getting this guy to quit bothering you. Plus I miss your face, even if we do skype like, every other day."
Even though he can't see her, he can practically feel her beaming at him, can clearly picture the delighted face she must be making, and his heart feels at least a little bit lighter.
"Really? You don't have to, honestly, I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she says earnestly, and Barry knows she really means it.
"No, it's fine, really—I didn't have plans for the weekend, anyway. And what are best friends for? It…maybe it'll be fun." He chokes out the last part with difficulty, because while he almost always has a good time when he's with Iris, he has a feeling this time things might be a little different.
"Great! It's on Saturday—maybe you can get here early so that we can hang out and catch up beforehand? I mean, not that there's much to catch up on, we tell each other everything already, but still."
"Yeah, of course. That sounds great," Barry replies, and it does, because he hasn't seen Iris in person in much longer than he'd like and he's itching for one of her hugs.
"Thank you so much for doing this, Bar, you're like, the bestest-best friend ever. And I can't wait to see you!"
Barry smiles and even finds himself looking forward to it, too, despite himself and despite the fact that it's going to be torture pretending to be Iris's date for the night and then go back to things as if nothing happened. Iris's excitement is contagious.
"Ah, it's nothing. Can't wait to see you too."
They chat for a while after that, until his next class draws dangerously close, and with it being all the way across campus he's already likely to be late again.
He hangs up the phone and heads off to Physics, wondering what on Earth he's gotten himself into. When he finally makes it to class and pulls out his notebook and pen, his stomach is still doing flip-flops and churning uncomfortably. He groans and slams his head down on the desk, cursing his luck, wondering, not for the first time, if it's good or bad.
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His University isn't far from where Iris's is—sort of a deliberate decision on both of their parts, in addition to the fact that he's never really felt able to venture too far out of Central City—so it doesn't take long for him to get there.
Still, his nerves are through the roof the entire train ride over, and the subsequent bus-ride to the campus. It's not until he's knocks on the door to Iris's dorm, and she attacks him with a hug that nearly sends them both sprawling to the ground, that he feels his tension drain away.
Iris squeezes him so tight it's sort of hard to breathe, but he's not complaining. Iris's hugs are one of his favorite things in the world, in addition to Iris herself, and he never feels more whole than when he's in her arms. He hugs her back with just as much enthusiasm.
When they pull away she's smiling brightly and nearly bouncing with excitement, and he's sure he's much the same.
"I really missed you," they say at nearly the same time, in sync as always, and grin at each other fondly.
Barry hears someone 'awww' behind Iris, and looks over her shoulder to a girl sitting on a bed in Iris's dorm, watching them with a hand over her heart.
Iris turns to look at her too, and introduces Barry to her roommate Felicity.
Felicity waves at Barry, and he waves back, smiling. It all goes downhill from there.
"You two are sooo cute! Iris, I'm jealous—I wish I was in a relationship like you guys. And he's even cuter in person!" Felicity coos, eyes darting between the two of them.
Iris's smile is strained and embarrassed, and Barry rubs the back of his neck, turning red.
"Right… well, we're headed out now, so we'll see you at the party tonight, Felicity," Iris says and grabs Barry's hand, pulling him down the hall with her and swiftly making their escape.
"Yeah, I forgot to mention—she thinks we're dating too. She was there when I…you know…and then she insisted on facebook-stalking you, and even though I told her it's not actually true apparently she's got this idea that we really are a couple based on all our pictures together and stuff, so…" Iris shrugs helplessly, and Barry forces himself to smile, to shrug it off too.
"Huh. Weird," he replies, and it's a miracle his voice doesn't crack.
"Yeah, I know," Iris responds, and Barry tells himself he must be imagining that her voice sounds just a little higher than usual, too.
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When the time comes to leave for the party, Barry's stomach is in knots and his heart is hammering in his chest. Iris looks beautiful, as always, and he feels ridiculous in comparison—although when he says so Iris just shakes her head and assures him he looks handsome.
When they get to the apartment the party is at, the music is blasting and there are people already stumbling all over the place. It's not really Barry's scene, but he steels his resolve and sucks it up anyway. For Iris.
It turns out it's not that bad, after all, and it's not nearly as strange or difficult to act like a couple as it probably should be. In fact, it's not much different from how they normally interact at all. Iris's links arms with Barry the whole night, leans into him from time to time, squeezes his hand, kisses his cheek. She might be acting a bit more touchy and affectionate than she normally would, but even then, none of it is really anything too out of the ordinary for them.
Barry, for his part, doesn't even have to try. He really isn't acting at all, because making heart-eyes at Iris is kind of what he does, and he normally treats her with this kind of admiration, like she's his entire world. It's almost refreshing, not to have to try and scale that down for a night.
He's finally starting to relax, finally allowing himself to let loose and not worry about accidentally revealing how he really feels to Iris, when her grip on his arm suddenly tightens and her nails pierce his skin.
"Ow, Iris, what was that for," he whines, but when he catches sight of her face his fake-pout fades. "What's wrong?"
"Sorry, it's just—that's the guy I was telling you about. He's coming this way, straight towards us. Oh, God, I think he's gonna try to talk to me again," she groans, burying her face in his shoulder.
Time seems to slow down in the next few seconds, as the guy approaches and Barry struggles with the decision of whether or not to do something he might really, really regret. It's the only idea his traitor mind can come up with, and once it enters his head he can't get it to go away.
He takes a deep, shaky breath, cupping Iris's face in his hands, and runs a thumb over her bottom lip. Her eyes go wide in surprise, but when her gaze meets his it's unwavering and determined, and he knows she's made up her mind too. She gives him a small, sharp, nod, as if to say 'do it,' and Barry closes his eyes and holds his breath, and just as the guy approaching them is about to open his mouth, he kisses her.
He intends for it to be just a quick peck, just enough to make the 'one of those' get the picture and go away. What he doesn't expect is for Iris to be kissing him back before he can pull away, deepening the kiss and pulling him closer. His knees almost buckle on him in shock.
His hands are tangled up in her hair and her hand is on his face, and even though she's in heels she's on her tip toes, her other hand pressed up against his chest, over his heart, to steady herself. It feels warm, and familiar, and right, as though they've been doing this for years already, as though this is the most easy, natural thing in the world.
The music is loud, and the people around them are loud, and this place is too hot and small and cramped to be comfortable. And yet, they might as well be the only people in the room in this moment, and neither of them take any notice of what's going on around them.
There's a rushing sound in Barry's ears, drowning out everything else and causing a pleasant buzz throughout his body, making him feel light-headed and giddy. He feels drunk in a way that's far better than what any alcohol could give him.
It's not until someone shoulders roughly past Barry, practically knocking him into Iris, that they jump apart, both looking sheepish, bright-eyed and out of breath. Iris's mouth is a little 'o' of surprise, and Barry's pretty sure he's about to pass out.
He counts to three, wondering how any of this can be real, before he lets himself meet Iris's gaze, and notices that she looks just as dazed as he feels.
"Um."
"Well."
"I think we have some stuff we need to talk about," Iris says with a breathless little laugh. Her lips are still wet from kissing him, and the music is blaring around them again and he can't really think straight, his mind still in a daze, an endless litany of 'Iris, Iris, Iris.'
"Yeah. Yeah, good idea," he replies, blinking, expecting to wake up any moment, expecting all of this to have just been a dream.
She grabs his hand, intertwines her fingers with his, and pulls him through the crowd, past her roommate, who winks at them, grinning widely as they pass by, past the guy from earlier skulking alone in a corner, scowling at their interlocked hands, until they're outside, away from everyone else and finally surrounded by some peace and quiet.
He licks his lips nervously, thinking of what he should say, and nearly chokes when he tastes Iris's cherry-flavored lip-balm on them. Just like that, his train of thoughts is successfully derailed again.
Iris rests a hand against his cheek and smirks, as though she knows exactly what he's thinking. She's probably not wrong, he concedes.
"Bar, did you ever wonder why I turned most of those other guys down when we were in high school? Or why, other than that you're my best friend, you were the first person I thought about when coming up with someone who I could believably tell people I was dating?"
He shakes his head, not allowing himself to believe it. Not yet.
"Well, I think it was mostly because I'm pretty in love with you," she says, her smile wide and her eyes genuine.
His throat feels incredibly dry, and his heart feels like it's doing victory laps in his chest, and it's a wonder he's still even able to speak. It's almost funny—after all this time of keeping it bottled up, of struggling with whether or not to tell her, and of how to tell her, agonizing over whether it might ruin their friendship, and she ends up saying it before him.
"Well, that's a relief, Iris," he manages, his voice hoarse. "Because I'm pretty fucking in love with you too."
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Later, after a lot more talking and a lot more of something else, when Iris finally decides it's time for them to rejoin the party, they both can't keep a smile off their face. For the rest of the time that they're there, Iris holds Barry close and drags him from group to group, re-acquainting him with all of her college friends. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of having Iris introduce him to people as her best friend and her boyfriend, and knowing that this time, none of it is pretend.