A/N: My first Flash fic, and I hope you all like it! I'm putting it down for now as "complete" although I may open it up again and change it to ongoing. (I have a couple places I may go with it...or I may write entirely new fics with them.) I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to the feedback!
Sideways Glances
"Aw, man, I gotta run. I was supposed to meet your dad…five minutes ago." Barry's sentence faded into a mumble as he shot a quick glance at his watch and winced at the time.
"Wait!" Iris blurted, darting behind the counter as he turned to go. Moving as quickly as she could, she poured a to-go cup three quarters of the way full with black coffee and covered it with a lid. Then, almost as an afterthought, she grabbed a blueberry muffin out of the case and thrust both in his direction.
"For dad. The stuff you guys drink at work shouldn't even be called coffee, legally," she explained as she handed over the cup. She saw a slight frown cross his face as he looked down at the muffin and added, "This is for you." Her dad hated blueberries with a passion that was more than a little unreasonable, but Barry loved them. "Lately it seems that you're always hungry!" They had grabbed lunch together on her break from work, but she'd noticed the way his eyes had lingered over the pastries when he'd escorted her back to work and she could tell he was – inexplicably – still hungry.
Barry grinned at her – that smile that was just a touch too wide to be classically handsome but was so infectious, it always made her day just a little brighter. She didn't really notice that their hands lingered over the muffin a little longer than was probably proper. "Thanks," he said softly.
"One of these days, you really are going to tell me how you can stay so skinny when I swear, you eat eight times a day. I think I gained two pounds just touching that thing," she joked, finally relinquishing her gifts and dropping her hands at her sides. She knew she should let him go, but between Eddie, her new "hobby" chasing down the rumors about the Red Streak, and what seemed to be an increased workload for Barry, they didn't get as much time together to hang out as they used to.
He started slowly backing towards the door. At this rate, he'd be at least ten minutes late, and the coffee probably would be the only thing to get him back into her dad's good graces. "Good metabolism, I guess. And, for what it's worth, I think you look great." From most guys, that would probably sound casually dismissive, but Barry was so sweet, and he sounded so sincere, it was almost impossible to disbelieve him.
She was tempted to fire back a rejoinder, but, remembering he was already late, she waved a hand dismissively at his remark. He was halfway through the door as she called out, "Don't forget, you promised to come over for dinner tonight!"
His muffled response was drowned out by the voice of Iris's newest co-worker, Sara. "Your boyfriend's cute," she remarked as she scooted next to Iris and bent to straighten one of the displays. "From the way he looks at you, he's obviously crazy about you. Have you guys been together long?"
"What?" she asked, taken by surprise. "Barry's not my boyfriend!"
Sara looked confused, but Tracy came to her rescue – at least, Iris assumed that was what she intended when she cut in, "It's true. She's dating her dad's partner, Eddie. She and Barry are 'just friends.'"
Until that moment, Iris would never have believed it possible for someone's voice to so clearly indicate sarcastic air quotes, without the aid of a supporting gesture. Before she could challenge her friend's tone, however, Sara retorted, "You're kidding! But…" her gaze shot from Iris to Tracy and back again before she seemed to think better of what she'd been about to say. Her mouth snap closed.
But Iris wasn't about to let it go. She turned towards Tracy. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
The two girls exchanged a look before they were interrupted by a small group of customers and Tracy had to help Sara ring up the sale while Iris worked on the order. At first, she waited with thinly-veiled impatience for the crowd to clear, but after a moment, doubt set in. It had never really occurred to her that Barry might look at her as anything more than his best friend, but what if she was wrong? The thought should have been ludicrous – laughable, really – so why was there a tiny shred of doubt that she wasn't able to entirely dismiss out of hand?
When the crowd had dissipated, Iris waited until Sara stepped away before approaching the counter. She tried to keep her tone light when she pressed, "What you guys said earlier…you were just joking, right?"
If she'd been hoping for her doubts to be allayed on that score, her companion's sigh indicated she was about to be disappointed. "Look, I wasn't going to say anything – mostly because I knew you wouldn't believe me. But if you want to know the truth? That guy is head over heels in love with you, and the only person who can't seem to see that is you." She paused and then added, "And maybe Eddie."
"But he's my friend –!" Iris began, before Tracy cut her off.
"You look at him like he's just a friend. He looks at you like you're…you're…" She waved a hand as if she was trying to pull the word out of thin air.
"Everything he's ever wanted," Sara suggested from behind her.
Not willing to relinquish the fight – or contemplate whether there might be any truth in her companions' words – Iris tried one last time. "You guys are totally misreading things," she huffed. "Barry and I grew up together! We're practically brother and sister!"
"Uh huh," Sara snorted, though her tone was not unkind. "All I have to say is, I have three brothers and none of them look at me the way he looks at you." She pursed her lips and stared straight ahead with unfocused eyes, as though she was trying to even picture it, but finally came back to herself with a shudder. "Thank god."
Iris's gaze shot from Sara to Tracy, but whatever she was looking for in her friend's expression – like an indication that this was all some sort of elaborate prank – she didn't find it. "This is ridiculous. I'll be in back, if anyone needs me."
But even as she stormed away, she suspected their words would stay with her for a long time.
Later that night, Iris had forcibly put the earlier conversation out of her mind and was focused on the task at hand: dinner. She was concentrating on placing a cherry oh-so-perfectly on top of a mountain of whipped cream when she heard the front door slam. Shooting a quick glance at the clock on the oven, she had to bite back a smile. Barry was late again. Of course.
"Hey, Iris. Sorry I'm – what is that?" he asked as he jogged into the kitchen.
"Dinner!" she practically chirped as she stood back, admiring her masterpiece. It was glorious – a mountain of vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, nuts, and even a cherry on top.
"That is not dinner!" he countered on a laugh. She loved his laugh.
She grinned at him. "Sure it is! Dad's working late, so we're having dessert for dinner. It's tradition, remember?"
He rolled his eyes at her. "When we were twelve, maybe," he teased her good-naturedly. "I'm pretty sure you're missing a couple of the major food groups."
Iris snorted. "Not at all. There's dairy in the ice cream – and the whipped cream, for that matter. I'm pretty sure the peanuts have protein. Chocolate comes from a plant, so it totally counts as a grain…"
"And fruits and vegetables?" he prodded. "One cherry barely counts."
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. Just when it looked like he was going to declare victory, she was hit by a stroke of genius! "Aha!" Spinning on her heel, she rooted around in the cupboard until she found a bag of gummy bears that, to be honest, she couldn't remember buying. They were probably past their prime, but did candy ever really expire? "These are fruit flavored, so they have to have fruit in them. Satisfied?"
"No," he retorted with a grin, but he walked up to her and scanned the items scattered across the counter. "So where's mine?"
She feigned a look of disappointment. "Oh. About that. Um…you were late, so I decided that meant you wanted me to have all the rest of the ice cream." Lowering her voice, she leaned in close and murmured, "Sorry. We're fresh out." They actually weren't, as she'd picked up a pint of his favorite flavor on her way home, but teasing him was too much fun to resist.
His eyebrows arched, his lips pressed together, and he nodded. "I see," he said gravely. Then, moving a little fast for a guy who always seemed to be running a few minutes behind, he dove towards the counter and picked up a spoon. Her spoon. "Then I guess we'll have to share!"
"Uh-uh!" she cried, darting out of his reach. "This ice cream is mine, Allen!" It was also rapidly melting, but she hardly noticed as he made a swipe towards the bowl again. Dancing just out of his reach, she picked up the can of whipped cream and held it out to him. "Here. You can have this."
His eyes narrowed as he grabbed the can, then tilted back his head and tried to pour it directly into his mouth. Although the can spluttered, nothing actually came back and the look he shot her in response was full of wounded dignity. "Really?"
She hadn't meant to use the last of the whipped cream, actually, but the expression on his face was priceless and she couldn't bite back a giggle. This latest affront seemed to be the last straw, and he chased her around the kitchen, making increasingly desperate grabs for the ice cream bowl that Iris fought to keep just out of reach.
He had her pinned against the counter, one arm looped around her waist, the other reaching towards the bowl of what was rapidly becoming vanilla-and-chocolate-flavored soup when her dad walked into the room. She hadn't even heard the front door open, and she choked back a laugh, lowering her weight off of her tiptoes, where she'd been trying to evade Barry's reach.
Her dad took one look at the two of them, shook his head, and turned to leave. "As long as you clean up your mess, I'm not going to ask," he muttered as he walked into the other room. Then, almost as an afterthought, she heard him yell, "And that better not be dinner!"
Iris couldn't take it anymore. She howled with laughter – Barry's laugh echoing her own – until his arms were the only things keeping her on her feet as she found herself bending forward to catch her breath. The ice cream slopped over the side of the bowl and onto the ground, which she somehow found even more hilarious. It seemed to take several minutes before she could get a hold of herself, and she wiped a tear out of her eyes as she straightened in his arms.
She could feel his warmth seep into the back of her shirt. His laughter vibrated through her chest, and she leaned into him for a second before realizing what she was doing and turning in his arms.
They had probably been in this position a hundred times before, so she didn't know why this time, she realized how close his face was to hers. Close enough to kiss, if she was so inclined. And then, suddenly, her co-workers' words came back to her. "He looks at you like you're everything he's ever wanted." If she didn't know better, she would swear he was looking at her like that right now.
"I bet you're a good kisser!" she blurted and then blinked, because where had that thought come from? And why in the name of all things holy did she have to express it out loud?
Barry seemed to be wondering the same thing. She watched him swallow nervously a couple of times as his cheeks turned a dull red color. "Wh-what?" he stammered, dropping his arms. Iris stepped back, embarrassed.
"Sorry. I was just…thinking about something Sara, the new girl at work, said today. She thinks…" She almost told him the truth, but it turned out, she wasn't that brave. "She thinks you're really cute." It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the whole truth.
"And so you were wondering if I'm a good kisser?"
"It was a – um – girl-talk think," she responded lamely. He made a small sound of assent, his eyes darting around the room. The silence that fell between them was awkward and stretched out far too long – which was so different than the comfortable silences they normally shared that she didn't know what to do.
The moment stretched interminably. Iris cleared her throat and stepped back, busying herself by cleaning up the mess left behind by their adventure. She shot a quick look at Barry out of the corner of her eye and caught him shooting a glance her way. Caught, they both jumped, their gaze skittering away.
Had her coworkers been correct? Did Barry have feelings for her that went beyond mere friendship? Or were things strained between at the moment because their words were on her mind, making her question things she normally took for granted – and he was picking up on her awkwardness but was unaware of the cause?
"So," he blurted, then seemed uncertain how to continue.
Iris coughed to clear her throat for the second time. "Um…you know, maybe you were right about my dinner plans. Want to order a pizza?"
He relaxed a little, the edges of his mouth sliding into an easy smile, although she caught him shooting another quick glance her way. "Sure. The usual?"
She started to nod, then caught herself and clarified, "Except for anchovies! I don't care what Dad says, they taste like death and belong nowhere near a pizza!"
He held up his hands defensively. "I know! I know!" It was a discussion they'd had a hundred times before. But, then, she'd never really worried that he would order a pizza with anchovies, because he knew her so well – and he remembered little things like that about her.
Because they were friends, right? She'd always thought so, but now, after her conversation earlier that day…she just couldn't help but wonder.
"Here, let me help with that," he offered, reaching for the bowl, but she pulled it out of his reach.
"No, it's okay!" she said quickly. Frankly, she could use the moment alone to get her head screwed on straight – not that she could tell him that. "Why don't you go reassure my dad that we'll order, you know, actual food while I finish in here?"
"You sure?" he asked, but she pressed her palm against his chest and gave a little push.
His chest was warm against her palm. She remembered when he'd held it there, not long ago, so she could feel his heartbeat and prove he was alive. It had been fast, then. It was fast now.
She realized she was staring at his chest and jumped, scampering back a few steps for sanity's sake. Was she out of her mind? What was wrong with her?
Barry seemed to be wondering the same thing. "Iris, are you okay?"
Her head jerked up and down like an insane bobble-head doll. He was still staring at her, so she ventured, "Barry…we're friends, right?" She unconsciously stressed the word, needing him to reassure her that her co-workers had been incredibly wrong, the status quo was what she always assumed it to be, and she was taking a fruitless trip down a dark path of insanity by even questioning it. Maybe she should have added the word 'just' to that question, but then he'd wonder why she was asking, and if she was right and her co-workers were wrong, she'd have to die of mortification on the spot.
Silence stretched between them for one heartbeat. Two. Three. Then, "Yeah, Iris. Of course we're friends. Why –?"
"I'm just being silly," she cut him off, turning her back on him. "Anyway, go! I'm hungry and the pizza isn't going to order itself!"
She could feel him behind her, even though he stood several feet away. She felt his gaze on her back for a long moment. Then she felt a slight breeze lift the hair of the back of her neck, but before she could question its origin, he murmured, "Okay," and walked into the living room.
"Iris, get a hold of yourself!" she hissed, tossing the empty whipped cream container into the trash. She needed to stop thinking of what the girls had said earlier that day and let things between her and Barry go back to the way they had been that morning, before she started over-analyzing every nuance of their interaction together.
Like whether three heartbeats had been at least one too many for him to answer her question.