~Author's Note~
Hey everyone and happy thanksgiving! So this is a one-shot for westallen, because I have been wanting to write something for these two for a while. Anyway, spoilers for season 1 and season 2 in this even with it being an au. I also don't own any quotes from the show that you may see. Read, review and enjoy! :)
Rated Teen just to be safe but also for suggestive themes, some violence/bloody scenes, romance pieces and very mild language.
Notes: AU where Barry and Iris don't know each other. The story takes place in what would be season 2 (kind of)—Reverse Flash has already been defeated by the Flash, Eddie did die but Iris and Eddie never dated, Ronnie did die, Jay and Earth-2 Harrison Wells haven't/won't come over from the portals, Captain Cold doesn't know that Barry is the Flash and don't have a truce or anything—they just hate each other—Stein and Jax are in Pittsburgh training and the only people who know that Barry is the Flash are Caitlin and Cisco.
It's Always Been You
"I gotta run."
"I bet you say that to all of the girls."
"What other girls?"
If someone told Iris West that there was a man faster than the speed of sound running around Central City like some type of comic book hero fighting crime a year ago, she probably would have outright told the person that they were crazy.
Now?
She believed that the impossible was possible.
There were things, people with crazy abilities, that freely roamed the streets. They were called meta-humans and frankly, from the ones that Iris had ran into chasing leads as she was a reporter, they weren't too nice. Meta-humans were caused by the particle accelerator at S.T.A.R Labs exploding a year before, releasing dark matter into the city and turning hundreds upon thousands of people into beings with inhuman powers.
The Central City Police Department, or CCPD, had gotten a flood of accidents reported that night—three people were in a deadly car crash, one person drowned in an unexplained series of events, one of their own scientists (a CSI genius) was struck by lightning in his lab. Looking back on it, seeing how all of those people seemed to survive one way or another; it should've been the city's first hint that something wasn't right.
But the city and Iris didn't think anything of it, up until a red streak was seen racing through the city—appearing in places at just the right moments, saving people, putting his life at risk to make sure everyone made it out alive—and she had started to believe that maybe, just maybe, the impossible was happening.
She was never a believer of the impossible, she liked raw facts because they were simple and calculated and believable. Iris would be a liar though, if she didn't admit that the streak hadn't peaked her interest. So against the pleadings of her father not to pursue such a thing that could put her in danger (she was stubborn at heart, he wasn't making it far with his reasoning anyway) she started tracking the streak's movements and reports—sightings of the impossible.
It turned into a blog that grew by day, alerting the city that something was brewing behind the scenes and that something was happening; something was changing.
It wasn't until the singularity appeared above Central City and a man in yellow, the Reverse Flash, was proved real and a man who could become fire, Firestorm, was seen rocketing across the skies and the streak, the Flash was his name now, defied the impossible by saving the city—by saving the city and freeing a man of a life-sentence in the crime of killing his wife by proving that the man in yellow was the one who had actually killed the innocent woman.
The day was saved by the Flash and although the day was marred by the deaths of fifty people in total—including Eddie Thawne (her father's trusted partner and friend who was lost in saving the day, though only the Flash knew the truth about his death, his sacrifice for the rest of the world to be saved), Ronnie Raymond (a genius engineer who used to be one half of firestorm) and Harrison Wells (to the public he was in a tragic car accident that killed him, to the Flash he was the man in yellow who had killed his mother)—the day was saved.
Iris was fascinated with the Flash.
From all of the reports and sightings and people praising how good of a person he was inside; she was actually jealous that she hadn't got to meet him yet. She wanted to see this man, this man who was so selfless and caring and brave-hearted, she wanted to figure him out.
Iris wanted to know who the man behind the mask was.
She just wished she hadn't dug so far; far enough to be kidnapped by one newly returned Leonard Snart whose vendetta was along the lines of either freezing the Flash in a block of ice or just putting a bullet through the girl's forehead and the Flash's stupid looking emblem (as much as he disliked guns, they weren't his taste, they were far too rancorous for even him; he hated the Flash's guts more).
Snart knew the Flash couldn't stand for innocents to be hurt and it was easy enough to nab this girl after she had just literally waltzed into his hideout, so all in all everything was going to plan. He even had his precious cold gun all ready to go, it was just the matter of waiting for the Flash to show up.
Snart sighed loudly, sending a bored glance towards Iris who was still giving him her best try at a frightening death glare through the terror of being kidnapped.
She might have tracked down some of the Flash's villains, might have decided to explore the old hideout that used to be Captain Cold's and might have gotten herself captured. Iris made a mental note to herself that maybe she should take some more self-defense lessons in the future because though she was badass, she wasn't badass enough to take down a guy who could give her frostbite in a split second.
She liked all of her fingers . . . and all of her toes.
Snart had shoved her against a metal pole, keeping her in a standing position as he tied her hands above her with black zip-ties that were currently painfully cutting into her skin. To reinforce that she wasn't escaping anytime soon, he also wrapped some hefty white rope around her lower waist—abundantly trapping her there.
Sometimes, Iris really hated the reporter gene inside of her.
But, another part of her brain fought with her, it was her choice to decide to hunt down the Flash just because she had wanted to meet him.
"Looks like someone isn't coming. Shame," the mellow voice of Snart caused Iris to snap out of her thoughts, the woman raising her head to narrow her eyes at him.
The gag in her mouth felt thick and overbearing, wheezed inhales from her nose the only way of breathing properly. She really wished it wasn't there so that she could let Snart know what she was really thinking. The man propped his cold gun on his right shoulder, turning on his heel to face Iris entirely.
"My assumptions about the Flash are false I suppose."
His composed voice sent shivers down her spine, how placid he was about the whole manner unnerved her. Why did she have to get kidnapped by possibly the creepiest villain of all time? Then without warning, Snart was raising the cold gun to aim directly at Iris' face and all thoughts were wiped from her mind.
She was going to die.
All because she wanted something blog about.
All because of her stupid obsession with a hero who couldn't even be bothered to show up and save her.
Apparently, he wasn't as noble as she believed he was. "I guess the Flash doesn't care about who gets killed as long as he can run the other direction." Iris saw Snart squeeze the trigger in what seemed like slow motion and she jammed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the burst of dark blue that would kill her.
She mentally sent out a final prayer to her father, saying how sorry she was for acting so irresponsible, hoping he wouldn't blame himself for her death. Hoping someone would comfort him for her. Joe West was a good man and since she was his daughter she knew exactly how he would react—she just hoped someone would be able to remind him that it isn't his burden to carry.
Her death never came.
Iris opened her eyes quickly when she heard a sound of pain inches away from her and what she saw shocked her.
The Flash was standing directly in front of her, hand clutching his right shoulder which was no longer red like the rest of his suit but instead a sickening shade of frosted white. She could hear his breathing, shallow gasps that were jagged and ridden with hurt. A quiet sound of hissing static was emitting from close to her and she knew for a fact that wasn't there before.
Maybe he had a suit transmitter or ear-comm that had gotten hit?
Did that mean that other people were working with him? That he had help with crime fighting? Were they meta-humans like him or just normal people that he trusted with his civilian identity?
They would have to know who he was behind the mask.
Before Iris could think of other musings, Snart let out a burly laugh that caused her to jump from his abrupt show of impudence. "Running a little late Flash?"
Iris can see the Flash's shoulders tense at Snart's words and she isn't a stranger to the rage essentially radiating off him (truthfully, she would be pissed too if someone had just shot her point blank with a cold gun—but then again, she had always hated the cold for as long as she could remember).
He lowers his gloved hand from his shoulder, with a wince he doesn't hide too well, to clench it tightly at his side. "What do you want Snart?" Iris feels her stomach flutter at his voice, though she doesn't know why.
Maybe it's the fact that it warms her chilled insides, enlightens her bones, makes her feel safe.
His voice isn't too deep, the perfect tone really, in a way that conveys that he isn't to be messed with but also shows that he is a compassionate person underneath all of that superhero jazz. That he might be a hero, but that he's still a human being.
"Well you see Flash, I'm annoyed by you. All I want is to cause unfathomable havoc so I can get some quick cash and be out of this city but you keep screwing up my dream." Snart pauses, lips twitching into a shadow of a smile as his eyes lock on the frozen crystals over the leather of his suit. "A little chilly there, hero?" He drawls out his final word and Iris watches cautiously as the Flash starts to vibrate softly in his spot.
"I'm fine Snart, but I'm not sure if you will be after I'm done with you."
Iris sees Snart smirk, finger locking itself over the rough trigger of the cold gun once again. "You seem to underestimate me Flash," another stifled sound of static comes from the Flash's suit, "that will be your downfall."
The fight unfolds in a burst of colors; bright yellow electric circling the Flash's body as he zooms around the room (sure to make sure Snart's firing range is far from where Iris stands) and obscure navy bolts of ice forming on the cement walls around them. She is amazed by what she sees and barely hears Snart shout out in frustration when the Flash is able to come up from behind him and land a powerful punch to the back of his shoulder, launching the man into a wall next to them.
Snart's body crashes into the dreary cement with a loud thump, one that seems to echo through the room as the Flash exhales heavily from his spot in the center of the room.
Iris lets out a sound from behind her gag that is somewhere between a relieved sigh and hysterical laughter. The Flash had shown up and saved her and he was everything people had said he was. He had fought valiantly and put himself in the (literal) line of fire so that she didn't get hurt.
It wasn't until the Flash had gone over and checked that Snart was unconscious on the floor a few feet away before he zoomed back over to stand in front of her that Iris understood where the sound of loud static was coming from and it was hard to not let a stunned exhale escape her.
He must have ran into the room a second too late at an odd angle because the cold gun hadn't just hit his shoulder.
It had also hit the right side of his face, snaking down his neck and twisting to the back of his shoulder and stopping just before the junction where the shoulder muscles moved. A dark shade of purple was already forming over the skin not covered by his mask, lips trembling faintly and corners a pale shade of azure. There was a medium sized circle of ice that was encasing his ear, where a comm had to be hidden—now destroyed and replaced by a sound of loud static.
Iris went to talk, momentarily forgetting about the cloth stuffed in her mouth but was reminded of the menace when her words came out as a bunch of jumbled mumbles.
The Flash sent her a kind smile, reaching forward with considerate hands and gently pulling the white cloth from her mouth. Iris breathed in the fresh air like she hadn't breathed something so good in years—like it was intoxicating.
As soon as she was able to even out her breathing again, she sent the Flash an appreciative smile as he reached up and worked in untying the rope blinding her wrists to the pole.
"Thank you," she whispered as his gaze flickered from her wrists and back down to her face, "for saving me."
The ropes fell to the ground as he moved to do the same to the rope twisted around her waist, "Of course, it's my job. Are you hurt at all?" His hands accidentally brushed against an exposed part of her stomach's skin from the hem of her shirt riding up a little, the unexpected touch causing a jubilant shiver to slip up her spine.
The Flash seemed to notice his mistake, hastily sending her a sheepish look as the rope was released from her waist, taking a step back. Iris swears that if he wasn't wearing a mask there would be a shade of pink lighting up his cheeks as she lowered her arms and rubbed at her wrists, undoing the zip-tie holding them together.
"I think the better question is, are you okay? You ran in front of the cold gun," she pauses for a moment, biting the inside of her lip, "why?" She saw his eyes lock on the thin, slightly bloody red lines on her wrists; speeding forwards and taking her hands softly in his. His gloved thumb brushed over the blood leaking out, smearing it over one of her veins.
"You're bleeding," Iris shakes her head, the Flash's vibrant eyes (they look a stunning hazel color, filled with warmth and care) locking with hers worriedly.
"I'm a police detective's daughter, trust me when I say I've been through worse. I'm fine, really." She saw his eyes glimmer with something, an emotion she couldn't figure out before he released her hands slowly and Iris felt like he didn't want to let go either. She was glad that she wasn't alone in the feeling.
"I'm still taking—"
His voice cuts off and then he staggered backwards, grasping at the side of his cheek.
The comm piece in his ear screamed with static and Iris wondered if the people on the other end could hear him but the Flash couldn't hear them. Iris took a few steps forwards, reaching out to grab his elbow and help steady him but he zipped to a corner before she could; gritting his teeth together to prevent the scream of pain from slipping through his lips.
His hands grasped helplessly at the wall as Iris inwardly fumed about the fact that he wouldn't let her help him.
"Flash?"
He looked up at her and she heard him mutter something along the lines of 'dammit, I can do this' before he was speeding towards her and picking her up in his arms and the next thing Iris knew was that the world was in a blur around her.
Colors were in muted mayhem and sounds were whooshing past and before Iris could collect her thoughts she was on the ground again, the Flash's thumb grazing across her cheek one last time before he raced away in a streak of red.
She looked around, seeing onlookers walking crassly by without a care in the world while babble from behind met her ears. She turned around and was met by the sight of Central City Hospital standing before her, her jaw slacking in awe.
He had cared enough to get her help even though he was in awful agony and damn if Iris didn't feel some type of warmth swelling in her chest.
A year ago Iris West didn't believe in anything.
Now, she believed in everything.
When she arrives at the police station with wrists bandaged by pink gauze later that night to meet up with her father for their planned eight o'clock dinner, she is hoping that the news of her kidnapping hasn't reached him yet. She makes her way through the first floor of the building, nodding her head at some family friends and bumping shoulders with a few older grumpy officers whose tenth cup of coffee was probably wearing off.
Iris makes into the elevator, exhaling as she presses the button for the second floor. The silver doors slowly start to close but are stopped by a black shoulder-strap bag being hurriedly shoved in between the gap, freezing the doors in place. "Wait! Hold the elevator!"
Iris moved forwards and jabbed her thumb at the button of request; the doors opening back up as the person flung the bag over their shoulder and entered the elevator. Iris looked over at him as he sent her an awkward smile in thanks, "Thank you, usually I'm ignored and the elevator just leaves me behind anyway. I'm always so late and one of these days I'm really gonna be in for it," he stopped mid-sentence, reaching a hand up and rubbing at the back of his neck as the elevator doors slowly shut.
"Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm in awkward situations—uh not that this is an awkward conversation! Or anything, I mean, um you just held the elevator for me which I am extremely grateful for and it's just a cheeky bonus that you're so beautiful—"
His cheeks went the color of rose as Iris chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head as his eyes widened at what he had just blurted, raising the same hand to now brush at his creased forehead.
"—God I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, um you know what? I'm just gonna shut up now."
Iris couldn't keep the smile off her lips, sweeping the thought that she had heard his voice before to the back of her mind. "You're fine. Um," she bit her lip and cursed the nervous habit, because there was no need for her to be, "what floor do you need?"
His eyes found hers, blush deepening. He reminded her of a science nerd in a cute, dorky kind of way.
"Uh, two, please. I promised I would get back tonight with results from a kidnapping case earlier for my boss." Iris nodded, pressing the button for the second floor and watching as the number lit up white before glancing at the man standing next to her nonchalantly.
He was young, possibly the same age as her with a handsome face and boyish features. A collared tee shirt is over his upper torso with a pair of black jeans and red converse, shoulder-strap bag thrown over his body. Brown hair, gelled to perfection, with hazel eyes decorated his face; cheekbones thin and cheeks flushed.
Then the realization hit her because she had seen him before—he was CCPD's youngest CSI who could outwit half the people in Central City. He was also the man who had been struck by lightning and lived to tell the tale.
"You're the guy that got struck by lightning, right?" The man's lips spring into a flattered smile that show his pearly whites, Iris feeling her own grin spread across her face at the sound of his elated laughter filling the elevator shortly afterwards.
He holds out a hand, Iris looking at his face and then back down at his hand before taking it in her own. He shakes it leisurely, eyes locking against hers.
"Yeah, that was me. It was an electrifying experience. Barry Allen, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Iris' eyes briefly glance down to his arm and she makes a note of the fact that his biceps are quite big for him essentially being a science nerd, valiant veins stretching the full length of his arm as his muscles contract from the movement of them shaking hands. She shakes herself out of her reverie before the man—Allen, she corrects herself—catches her checking him out. Iris didn't mean to do it, but since when were dorky geeks as handsome as him?
"Iris West," she introduces herself, "my dad is—"
"Detective West right? I work with him, he's one of the only reasons why I still have a job. He knows every excuse in the book." Iris giggles (yes, she really giggles and no, she isn't proud of it) because she knows that from the many, many excuses she had come up with other the years to try and skip out on the horror that was school. They stop shaking hands but don't let go of each other, though neither pays enough attention to fully notice.
"That might be my fault. I didn't like school that much, I actually didn't get into it until college."
Barry goes to open his mouth and say something else but before he can there is a ding as the elevator reaches the second floor, silver doors sliding open. They stare at each other, both lost in the amazement of the other, for a baited minute until a bald officer waiting outside the elevator clears his throat and both hurriedly let go of each other, squeezing past the elder man to escape the (extremely sudden) heat of the elevator.
They bid sloppy farewells before rushing through the room, up to where Joe West sits shuffling stacks of paperwork through his hands. Barry is able to approach him first, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder just as Iris barrels from around the corner.
"Joe I have the results from the kidnapping case—"
"Dad please don't freak out, I'm fine—"
They end up speaking at the same time; Barry's profound voice intermixing with Iris' slightly apprehensive one. Joe sends them both a look as he pushed back from his desk so he can hobble out of his chair and stand up as Iris and Barry face each other.
"You were the one who was," the pieces connect shakily in his mind and he finds his realization through a quickly failing façade that he isn't sure how long he can keep up, "a-are you okay?" Iris simply bobs her head at Barry's question, the latter glad she doesn't see through his faked feedback because he had already known the answer from saving her just a few hours beforehand.
Joe turns to Barry, crossing his arms. "Can you give us just a minute Barry?"
"Yeah, of course," he steps away, moving far enough backwards so that he is out of their private conversation but still close enough so that he can eavesdrop.
His mind is still reeling at the new information, because he had a gut feeling that he had seen Iris before when he had saved her but he couldn't put his finger quite on it then. Now, it made perfect sense. He had been keeping an eye on Iris anyway, because Caitlin and Cisco had told him of her blog and the petty thought had amused him—someone who had believed in him so much and cared enough to go and hunt down some of his old criminals to just meet him once.
Barry focuses on Iris from where he is standing, eyes trailing over her body in a gentleman way.
She was beautiful, with long black hair that was always curled at the ends no matter what and warm eyes that could render any man useless at her feet. Her hips are curved and body slim and even though she's wearing a green dress that brings out her eyes and was obviously for her and her father's previous planned dinner, he believes she would still look stunning with no makeup and a ragged tee shirt and sweatpants. The dark neon pink gauze over her wrists is a stunning contrast from her dark skin, Barry thinks after a moment, though the thought that she had still gotten hurt plagues him.
He wasn't fast enough, even after all he had been through—after all he had done with having his powers from this past year.
She had also made him forget about the throbbing pulsing through his body from the frostbite he had received earlier ("Damn you Barry Allen, do you like scaring me to death with running in here all heroic and then passing out in a heap on the floor?" Caitlin had chided him after he had woken up covered by three different blankets in bed at S.T.A.R Labs with her and Cisco hovering over him).
Caitlin had told him that he would make a full recovery in another day and for now he would only have to deal with aching all over and slight hearing loss in his right ear because the cold had slowed down his rapid regenerating cells.
But just speaking to Iris . . . it had caused him to forget about all that pain within him. Joe and him had been working together at the CCPD for three years now and he had known about Iris from the past, had even seen her sometimes. He had always thought she was a natural beauty but now . . . maybe she was something more.
Meanwhile, Joe was trying his damnedest not to go complete over-protective-cop-father on his daughter. She was a smart girl, his baby girl, and he still had remembered what he had said to Singh when he had slapped the file on his desk with the information.
"Iris? My Iris? No, she's too smart to have done something like this, running off after a known criminal." But then Singh had given Joe his no-bullshit-this-is-real look and he had felt his heart drop.
But Iris was always so serene and he just didn't understand why she was acting so illogically and unreasonable all of a sudden. "What I don't understand," he cuts off her 'I'm okay' rant with a critical voice that is pitched low in tone, "is why you would go and run after an acknowledged highly-dangerous criminal Iris!"
He knew inside why she had done it—because she was in an unyielding search to find out who the Flash was—and damn if he had any idea where her fixation had come from. It wasn't safe for her to try and find him, the Flash wasn't good news.
Sure, he was a hero, and Joe knew that but heroes often had enemies and he didn't want Iris to be caught in the middle of that. She pinches the bridge of her nose, a stubborn trait she had picked up from being his daughter, crossing her own arms to mirror his positioning.
"I didn't mean to just stumble into Snart's base and get kidnapped, it just happened. I was saved though Dad, by him. By the Flash. And I'm okay."
Barry flinches when moments later Joe's rage peaks and he tells her that she needs to not go after him again. His hope is restored a little by the fact that Iris sticks up for him—well not him, the Flash—but soon she is storming out of the precinct but not before sending him—Barry—a reassuring smile.
"It was nice to meet you Allen, I hope to see you around."
Her hand brushes over his shoulder and sends a chill through his body, a good one.
"See you," he mumbles in reply and can't help but watch her all of the way to the elevator.
Was he screwed? Very much so.
A week filled with foolish meta-humans and imperfect robberies passes by.
Barry had just gotten back to S.T.A.R Labs with a couple faded bruises and some blood on his suit, Cisco fussing over the fact that the speedster had gotten a scratch on his 'beautiful emblem' when Caitlin walks in, iPad in hand. Barry looks up from watching Cisco buzz around, seeing Caitlin's face with a look of sour distaste and something inside of him (call it a gut feeling or their now year-long friendship) tells him that he's in trouble.
She approaches him mutely furious; picking up a disinfectant wipe from the group of medical equipment on the small table next to the bed and raising it to wipe at the bloody cut located on his left cheek. Barry watches her warily, wincing when she wipes just a tad too starkly at his burning skin.
"Um, Cait?" She avoids his eyes, grasping the iPad close to her chest with her other hand in way that he can't see what's on screen. Barry exhales, knowing she was probably mad about him running off again—mad about him getting hurt, again. "Caitlin, I swear I'm fine. It's just a little scratch I mean, the suit took more damage than I did."
Cisco looks up from his work, frowning. "Technically, he ruined my suit. See all of this blood? It's gonna take me a full week to get it all out."
Barry raised his hands in a 'you see?' motion, sending a skeptical look his friend's way. "So when is it going to be my suit again?"
Cisco chortles, shaking his head. "Good one dude."
"I wasn't joking—"
"Barry." He stops when Caitlin's quiet voice cuts him off, Cisco sensing the tension and walking out of the room with a mutter about 'how he needed to adjust something' before leaving. Barry looks towards Caitlin, who looks dismayed as she places the new red wipe back on the table next to them.
"Cait I swear I'm sorry, I had no idea you would be upset—"
"Upset? No. I'm amused actually, I have something to show you."
Now that took him off-guard and he sent her a look as she passed over the iPad, Barry taking it in his hands. On screen was Iris' blog with a message posted by her on the wall from two minutes earlier. His stomach lurched in happiness at the contents after he had read it.
Iris-West to The-Flash: Can we meet? CC Jitters, if you know the place? / posted Thursday, 7:43 pm.
Barry looks to Caitlin happily but the expression is wiped from his face at the knowing look the doctor is giving him. "What? It's nothing, she probably just wants to thank me for saving her the other day."
Caitlin doesn't look like she believes him as she sighs, "Barry, you need to be careful with this. I don't think you should go. I mean, she's at your work place. She'll know it's you." Barry jumped off the bed, walking over to where his suit lay in a clump on the lab floor from where Cisco had left it.
"I'll stay out of the light and she doesn't know me. I just officially met her a week ago."
Cisco and Caitlin knew of Barry's smitten crush on the woman, even if Barry didn't know he had one himself. Caitlin rolled her eyes, "Barry I don't think—"
Before she could finish, he used his super speed to suit up and looked towards her, lifting a hand up to pull the mask over his face. "Cait, I'll be fine. This stuff between Iris and me, it's nothing."
Caitlin didn't have time to answer because he was gone, papers flying in his wake as she let out an angry explanation as she crouched down and started to pick up the lab papers now scattered over the floor. As Barry ran to Jitters, he wasn't sure if even he believed the words he had left with Caitlin.
He zoomed into Jitters moments later, cleaning up the place before stopping in a dark corner by the cash register, Iris watching him with a look of amazement from the middle of the room. Iris chuckled as the Flash took a few steps towards her and in the dim light she could see his shadowed lips quirk into a half smile.
"You came," she called out breathlessly, the Flash letting out a disoriented laugh.
"I'll always come for you. How do you have the keys to this place?" His voice is changed, warped as it comes out in a soft sonic-boom type of way but she knows it's still him underneath that.
Iris takes a few steps forwards as the Flash zips to a different part of the room so that he is now sitting in one of the chairs. She whips around to watch him as he plays with his fingers on the table, tapping them against the now clean tabletop.
"Before I got my job at Picture News I used to work here, I forgot to give my set of keys back. How are you doing that to your voice?" He speeds to another part of the room, this time ending up a few feet in front of her again.
"I can vibrate my vocal chords, pretty cool right?" She can't keep the grin off her face at the thought that the Flash acts like a little kid in a candy store and it only makes her love—like, she meant like, him more.
"Why are you hiding your voice?"
He shrugs modestly, "To protect my identity."
Iris crosses her arms, "But you didn't hide it before."
He's suddenly standing behind her, chest inches away from touching her back. Iris can feel his breath on her neck, ghosting over her ear. "Why did you call me here Iris?" He questions in a murmur, voice gentle and gloved hand reaching forward to touch a lock of her hair. Iris doesn't question the fact that he knows her name somehow too much, because she was the kidnapping case shown on the news but her name coming from him; it just sounds so right.
It feels right.
She stays facing away from him for a second but then suddenly flips around, the Flash lowering his outstretched hand in an instant and then vibrating his face. Was he being tremendously paranoid about her knowing who he was under the mask? Yes. He didn't want to ruin the only way to talk to her. He had wanted to just meet her for so long and had finally gotten to meet her in person—outside of being the Flash—and he didn't want to ruin this connection she had to the Flash.
Every story Joe told him about her, they were great and she seemed like the perfect person. All he had wanted was to meet her but now, now he didn't know what he wanted. Did he want something more? What was . . . this thing between them?
"Why are you hiding from me, Flash?" He flashes to another dark corner of the room, exhaling.
"I'm sorry, I really don't want to. It's just a precaution. I can't have who I am under the mask getting out." His voice sounds honestly genuine, soft. Iris nods, understanding. She wasn't going to push him, she just wanted to get to know him.
"I called you here because I wanted to properly thank you for saving me."
The Flash beams, "It's my job."
A thought seems to dawn on Iris as she looks at him up and down, seeing his suit repaired and no frosted ice anywhere on him. "Wait, you were really injured, how are you—"
"Along with super speed, I got super healing. My cells regenerate at inhuman speeds, things that would take a while to heal for you would heal within a day for me." She lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.
"I'm glad you're okay."
He nods, smile slipping off his face when an important insight comes to him. "I promise I'll always keep you out of danger but for me to be able to do that," he trails off and she can tell he's inwardly thinking about something difficult in his mind, "we can't meet up like this. You putting your name out there with mine, it isn't safe Iris. I couldn't stand to see you hurt." Iris takes a few steps forward, the Flash watching her with an enticed breath.
"Didn't I tell you before? I'm a police officer's daughter. I can take care of myself."
"You aren't hearing me."
"My hearing is fine," she sends him a keen look, "just selective."
"Iris," he gripes, voice close to a pleading tone.
Iris ignores it, "I promise I'll be careful Flash, I can take care of myself and if anything ever happens to me, I'm sure you'll be there to save me."
He bites his tongue before what he really wants to say escapes—"What if I'm not fast enough?"—and instead picks out words that are better suited for their conversation. "I—"
"Barry, there's a robbery going down at a jewelry store three streets over." Cisco's voice crackling through his newly repaired ear-comm causes the Flash to duck his head down and reach an finger up to send his reply.
"I'll be there in a second," then he turns to Iris, "I gotta run."
Her lips twist upwards, "I bet you say that to all of the girls."
He moves using his speed so that he is directly in front of her for a second; one hand reaching up and fingers brushing against her cheek, grazing across her chin. "What other girls?" Then, he's gone and she raises a hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth left behind.
They have meetings at CC Jitters nearly every night from then on, the weeks passing by easily as they grow to know each other better. Her blog is more alive than ever before, with over one hundred thousand followers and five thousand re-posts; Iris figured people were acute to follow in secret anyway because believing in a real life superhero was already silly enough.
She also runs into Barry Allen a lot at CCPD, mostly at times when she and Joe have plans to meet up for lunch or dinner. They find that talking to each other is easy and unbiased—unpretentious. He's a break from the rest of the world, a friend who could recite the algorithm for pi faster than the roster of a football team.
They end up becoming great friends after a month, learning things about each other that they never knew before when they would head to Jitters after a long day or for an early morning cup of coffee when their schedules were too busy that day and they knew they wouldn't run into each other.
Iris learned things about him because she wanted to, because he was a gentleman and such a sweetheart that it was hard not to tug him into a hug whenever he was acting like his adorable-self. She learned that his first name was actually Bartholomew and that his middle name was Henry after his father.
That he was a genius in anything science and the biggest nerd on the planet.
That he cared about other people more than himself.
That he was perhaps one of the only gentlemen left in the world in this day and age.
That he had one hell of a body with abs and everything else (long story short, she had invited him over to her house and she had spilled some beer on his shirt and Iris might have peaked when he was in the mist of slipping on one of her dad's old tee shirts).
But most important of all; she learned he was a great friend and she wished she had met him years ago.
Barry learned things about her and to him, Iris was the most amazing person on the planet. He learned that she hated the cold because it reminded her of her mother dying (leaving, as she would later learn with a surprise visit).
That she had graduated college at the top of her photography class.
That she had always been self-conscious about her nose.
That she was a proud woman.
That she had a sensitive side she tried her best to keep hidden from anyone because she always wanted to seem tough (but, they both knew he could break down that barrier with a warm hug or interlacing of the hands).
All in all, they were glad they shared that elevator that day, glad they ran into each other.
Barry was also finding himself in a problem—whenever they would meet up when he was the Flash, the heat between them was growing. It was easy to admit that he liked her. A lot. He could also tell that Iris seemed to have feelings for the Flash. Which wasn't good for a lot of reasons.
The current biggest one being that he was dating Joe's partner Patty Spivot and what they had was good. He liked her, she liked him. Easy and simple.
What Iris and he had, that wasn't anything like that. It was daring. Mysterious. Theirs.
The second reason was the sole fact that she didn't know who the man behind the mask was. She didn't know that Barry Allen was the Flash and damn if he was going to ruin that. A of him wanted to scream it to her—"God, Iris, I'm the Flash! I'm the hero and I know it wasn't what you were expecting but we have something here and I didn't tell you sooner because I didn't want to destroy this; Iris, I didn't want to lose us."—but then the rational other part of him took over and reminded him of reality.
The harsh truth that heroes like him, they never got the girl. Losers like him never got the gorgeous girl in the end. But he could live with that, because at least they had their close friendship between them.
It's early in the morning, maybe around eight, when Iris arrives at CCPD with a steaming hot cup of coffee for her father (decaf of course, just without him knowing) and a small coffee with extra cream and no sugar (his favorite) for Barry. As Iris walks into the main room with spring in her step because it had been a pretty good morning so far, Joe spinning in his chair to face his daughter as she hands him his styrofoam cup; which he takes gratefully.
He leans up and presses a fatherly kiss to her cheek, grinning. "I thought you said I wasn't allowed to have any more caffeine?"
Iris smiles, "You've been working hard lately, so I think you're allowed to break that rule this one time."
The two's relationship had been on the rocks for two total weeks but by the third week after their 'fight' they couldn't take the anger anymore and made amends. Joe stopped pushing her about meeting with the Flash, because he knew she wasn't going to stop, with her promise that he would keep her safe. Joe didn't trust the speedster, but took Iris' words as enough reason to anyway. He had been able to sneak a can of pepper-spray in her purse one day when she wasn't looking so that reassured him a bit, though he wished she would've just accepted his offer to carry a pistol around (she had declined that profusely).
Joe took a large sip from his coffee, Iris still holding tight onto Barry's coffee as she took a calm glance around. "Where's Barry?" Joe turned back to filling out his latest report, titling his head towards the stairs leading up to where Barry's second home was.
"Up in his lab I think, are we still on for dinner tonight?"
Iris looked up towards the stairs, taking a few steps back. "Yes but if you're working late tonight call me."
"Sounds good, I'll see you later baby." Iris didn't answer, making her way to the stairs and taking them two at a time as she went up. Joe chuckled, shaking his head. He was glad that Iris and Barry were great friends, they evened each other out and he hadn't seen Barry so happy in years. Iris made it to the door leading to Barry's lab but stopped herself from barging in when she heard voices mingling around inside.
So instead she leaned against the wall next to the door and listened, easily learning within seconds that it was Barry and Patty arguing from inside the room.
"Don't do this to me Patty—"
"Don't do what? Barry, all you've done for the past four weeks of our relationship is lie to me and think you get away with it. A-Are you cheating on me?"
"Cheating on—no, I would never do such a thing to you."
"Then what is it Barry? What are you hiding from me?" Silence followed and Iris swore she heard Barry exhale shakily (inside her mind she could just imagine him running a hand through his messy hair).
"I can't tell you." She heard the sound of shoes clicking towards the door and then heavier thumps of feet behind them. "No Patty, please don't go."
"There's no relationship if there's no trust Barry. I-I can't be with someone who's secretive around me all of the time."
"Patty—"
"I'm sorry."
Iris hid behind the door as it opened and Patty exited, heading down the stairs and wiping at her eyes. She made her way out from behind the door, entering Barry's lab slowly. He was standing with his back to the door, hands grasping the edge of the table in front of him irritably.
Without warning he banged his fists downwards, muttering something Iris couldn't hear and then reaching his arms up, hands tangling up in his hair. Iris walked up next to him slowly, reaching forward and with one hand placing the coffee on the table in front of him and then the other coming to rest on his shoulder.
"Hey Allen," she whispers unobtrusively, Barry chuckling softly, "got you some coffee." He doesn't turn his head, instead picking up the coffee with one hand and taking a long swig. After a moment he smiles, just barely, and places it back on the table.
"My favorite." Iris nods, exhaling.
"I heard what happened. I'm sorry."
He shakes his head, lifting a hand so that his calloused fingers are resting over top of hers. "It's alright. I'll be okay." She thinks he's a fool to believe she wouldn't notice the slight waver in his words. Iris reaches out with her other hand, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him so that his body moves to face her.
The distance between their faces is too close but neither pay much attention. It's the expression on his face that kills her, one filled with regret and hurt. Then it's his eyes; so glassy with unshed tears and rimmed with hate, hate at himself she knows. She wonders if she knows what he was hiding from Patty.
"Listen Allen, I know you well enough to know that you aren't okay."
He looks at her through his eyelashes, "Yeah, that's a scary thought, isn't it?" Iris punches him lightly in the shoulder, Barry laughing as she grabbed both of his hands carefully.
"What couldn't you tell her, Allen?" It's funny, Barry thinks, the fact that her nickname for him was always calling him by his last name. She hadn't ever said his first name, if he remembered correctly. Iris continues when he doesn't answer right away, "What is so important that you had to keep it secret and lose Patty? I know you really liked her."
I like you more, he mentally thought, dismissing the words just as quickly.
Instead he just stared at her for a moment, until she was suddenly pulled flush against him in a tight hug. She was shocked at first, but after a few fleeing seconds wrapped her arms around his neck, his snaking around her waist. "Allen," she mumbled, Barry shaking his head against her.
"Just . . . can we just stay like this? For a minute?"
Her heart breaks at his broken tone of voice and she knows he's hurt and trying his best not to show it and it kills her. So she nods, burying her face into the fabric of his shirt.
"Yeah. We can."
She feels him clutch the back of her shirt tightly and she just rubs his back, relishing in the feeling of being so close to him. They stay locked in that hug for a while (it's longer than a minute but neither says anything) and Iris feels her stomach do a flip when she hears him try to hide a soft sniffle.
It's been a month since Barry and Patty's break up and Iris hasn't gotten in touch with the Flash in a while either. She wanted to be there for her best friend, because he needed her even if he claimed he didn't.
Today was one of the few nights where Barry didn't sleep over Iris' house and as a matter of fact she hadn't heard from him in two days. She figured he was going through the silent stages of grieving and that he was on the tier where 'said person takes some time to their-self for a little while'.
So it had been a slow Wednesday and a boring work day filled with cranky reporters and caffeine deprived articles that lacked the usual Picture News jazz. Iris is working late with her friend just a few feet away from her and the tranquil peace of the night is broken by a grouchy groan.
"Alright, that's it, I'm leaving. If I see one more report about something 'blue weaving through the cars and knocking over people on the sidewalk' I'm going to go crazy." Linda Park's exasperated voice reaches Iris' ears with a tone of annoyance and the latter can't help but laugh at her friend as she stops typing her latest article about the Flash for her blog.
"That much huh?" Linda logs off and shuts down her computer, nodding her head wildly.
"You wouldn't believe it and I need a story by Friday and just, you know what? I'm going home, getting myself a nice cold beer with a big-ass plate of nachos and then binge watching One Tree Hill just because I can."
Iris smiles as Linda gathers her things, grabbing her purse and then pushing in her chair and walking over to where Iris sits. "A beer does sound tempting," she pondered, Linda laughing at Iris' expression.
"Would you like to join me? Maybe I'll just skip work tomorrow altogether."
"No, that's alright. You go have fun. Text me tomorrow morning and let me know if I'll be on my own or not."
Linda gave her a wave as she headed towards the front doors, "Yeah, yeah. Doors are locked, goodnight Iris!"
"Night Linda!"
The door chimed as her friend exited, Iris exhaling as she went back to typing. Even though the two haven't talked in a while, the Flash had taken care of some tricky meta-humans in the past few weeks. A man who could become huge within a matter of seconds named Al Rothstein, a man that could turn to gravel in an instant, a half-shark half-man appropriately named King Shark and there had been numerous reports of red and blue blurs chasing each other through the city.
Before she could get far with her writing however, she was notified of a new posting to her blog's wall. Saving and clicking out of her word document, she brought up her webpage, seeing four bland words staring back at her.
Anonymous-User to Iris-West: Need you. Please. Spot. / posted Wednesday, 10:57 pm.
Her mind went into overdrive as she tried to put together the words, to analyze them.
Someone needed her? Spot? Was it a prank? But then her heart hammered as she thought of the impossible. What if it was the Flash and he needed help? What if she was the only person he could turn to?
That would make sense—it was signed in as an anonymous user and it was asking for her to go to their spot, Jitters, and help him. Right? Iris cursed to herself under her breath, hoping she was making the right decision about all of this and not being lured to her death by some serial killer as she gathered her things and left Picture News, slamming the front doors shut behind her.
It takes her five minutes to get to Jitters by car, parking a few paces down the street as to not draw suspicion to her entering CC Jitters past working hours as it was now past eleven at night. But when she entered the coffee shop, doors unlocked probably from the last worker that was there forgetting to lock up, the sight before her caused her heart to rattle.
Blood was smeared from the doorway to the back entrance, where the Flash was laying half propped up against the glass doors (which were a sickening shade of crimson) with his cellphone dropped on the floor next to him and she could see her webpage still up in the internet explorer app from where she stood. A loud gasp escaped Iris at the sight of him, as she rushed forward and dropped to his side.
She raised her hand hesitantly above where his vibrant white emblem was but froze when he wheezed softly, a new line of blood dribbling down his chin. His droopy eyes found hers barely, one gloved hand reaching out for hers as she lowered her hand and gripped his firmly. "You came," he mumbles hoarsely and Iris doesn't like how quiet his voice is.
She chuckles softly, and it's part hysterical because the fastest man alive is seriously hurt and she doesn't know how to help him. "Of course I did Flash, you needed me." He coughs again and this time it's louder, too harsh for somebody as considerate as him. But there's a ghost of a smile on his lips. "What happened to you?"
He shakes his head, struggling to keep his eyes open.
"I went after a meta-human," he pauses to catch his breath and Iris' mind goes haywire because if it's hard for him to breathe that means there's something wrong with his lungs right? But she's no doctor and the scent of his metallic blood in the air is causing her stomach to roll, "when I shouldn't have. I-I thought I was ready." He swallows, groaning when a fresh wave of pain hits him. His hand squeezes hers as he waits for the agony to pass and Iris wishes she could do something help him. "H-He's a speedster, like me. F-Faster than me. Zoom."
In the back of her mind she knows his voice is going quieter after every word, she knows he won't be able to hold onto consciousness for much longer. Iris doesn't want him to go to sleep though, because going to sleep might mean his death and she can't live without him.
"What can I do? There has to be something I can do to help you."
His eyes lock against hers and he winces when her knee accidentally brushes against his side.
He knew calling her was a bad idea but he also knew he didn't have enough juice left in him to make it back to Cisco and Caitlin at S.T.A.R Labs. Though Caitlin's doctor skills would come in handy right now, he trusted Iris. He had barely escaped with his life, the only reason he was able to run away was because he was able to stab Zoom with a slowing serum Cisco had cooked up that they thought would be effective against him. He had stabbed him in the arm with it just as Zoom was ready to vibrate his finger through the Flash's organs, just as he was ready to kill him.
Zoom had ran after that, leaving the Flash bloody and beaten in the alleyway next to Jitters. He had crawled in there and pulled out his phone from his pocket, leaving a post on Iris' blog and hoping she would make it to him in time.
Now she was here, she was actually there, and he was at lost for what she could do. He exhaled, closing his eyes so that he could try and think for a moment.
The throbbing in his side meant a broken rib, but as long as he didn't jostle it any farther it would repair normally. The pain in his stomach was probably from an outside gash in his lower abdomen, which needed to get pushed together by something to clot the bleeding.
There was blood from cuts over his face, but nothing life-threatening. Another pain was by his spine but he didn't know what that was so he knew that would heal quick and as for the rest of him—the rest of him was just bruises and cuts that looked worse than they actually were.
He knew that he would be healed in a matter of hours, but there was one thing Iris needed to do so that he would heal correctly. The gash in his stomach; if the bleeding from that didn't stop he would bleed out in a manner of hours.
"You need . . . there's a g-gash on my stomach. Where Zoom tried to kill m-me." He struggled to breathe, knowing his body was overworking itself in trying to repair everything. "I'll walk you through it, just . . . zipper. Pull down the zipper by my neck to move my suit."
Iris looked from the Flash's face to his suit (that was way too red now) and felt the wetness in the back of her eyes. "I should take you to the hospital, I-I can't—they have morphine there and painkillers and they can help you—"
He cuts her off by rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "My body b-burns through that stuff too f-fast. Hospital couldn't do anything for m-me. Y-You can do this. Iris, I trust you." She pulls herself together with an unsteady inhale, nodding with a sniffle.
"Okay."
She gently braces two hands on his shoulders (releasing his hand unwillingly) and pulls his body forward so that he's leaning against the front of her body. She sees the zipper by the nape of where his attached mask ends, grabbing the frigid thing and tugging it downwards slowly. She stops midway down his back, sitting him back up against the wall as he shivers from the sudden cold.
Iris sends him a sheepish look as she carefully pulls the suit from his shoulders and off his chest, the red material becoming a heap over his legs as she pulls it off just enough so that she can see his abs (which are mighty toned by the way).
Her worried eyes lock on the red gash below his bellybutton almost instantly and the blood looks so out of place on his pale skin.
The Flash smiles at her, signaling a job well done. "Alright now we n-need something to stop the bleeding." Iris rips off the sleeve to her arm, not caring about her blouse because she had got it on sale anyway, so that it forms a long strip.
Then she reaches forward and starts to tie it around his torso, the Flash flinching but telling her to wound it tighter anyway. She reluctantly does so and he sends her a weak smile once she's finishes. Then his eyes start to close and she shakes her head, taking his hand.
"Don't leave me, please don't leave me like this."
"I'll be . . . okay . . . super healing . . . remember?" His voice is a whisper in the quiet coffee shop, a raspy rumble in the dank room.
"Flash," she mutters, "please." He brings her hand to his lips, leaving a slow, tender kiss there.
"I trust you Iris. I trust you."
He falls into a land of unconsciousness and Iris nearly stops breathing. She reaches a trembling hand forward to check for a heartbeat after a few hesitant seconds, praying that there will be a strong pulse there. When the stable thump, thump of his heart beats under her cold fingers, she lets out a sigh of relief. She looks at his closed eyes and the blood all around them. It looks like a crime scene and she hopes she's doing the right thing as she reaches forwards and braces her arms over his and picks him up.
She carries him to the front doors of Jitters, leaving him alone for merely a minute as she runs back to her car and pulls it up to the shop.
Then she cautiously carries a half-naked Flash to her car and lays him across the backseats, driving home. When she gets to her house she's quiet and exhausted as she carries him to the couch in the living room (and she thanks the heavens that he's not too heavy) and then covers him up with a few blankets because his exposed cheeks feel taciturn when she touches him.
She knows how easy it would be just to yank his mask off and see who he was but she wouldn't dare betray his trust.
She wouldn't dare ruin what they had.
Iris falls asleep with a pillow and blanket on the floor next to him.
The next morning she wakes up to a spotless house and clean couch with a note waiting for her on the coffee table in front of her. It's filled with three words in chicken scratch handwriting and it reminds her of handwriting she's seen before.
The words remind her of what Barry had said to her the first time they had meant in the elevator.
Thank you beautiful.
When she runs into Barry the next day at CCPD, her mind is still reeling from the events of the day before.
The Flash had made sure her house and Jitters were cleaned spotless of any blood but she also hadn't seen him since. Hadn't seen if he was okay.
The only thing telling her that he was still alive was the note he had left for her.
Iris nearly runs them both down as she walks into him on her way into his lab, her fresh cup of fizzy soda spilling all over his front.
Her mouth drops open and she frantically starts to apologize, Barry laughing and telling her it's fine over and over again as he walks over to the row of lockers by the door and searching for a spare shirt in one. Iris is too busy apologizing to notice the painful wince that follows his words from being slammed into.
"I'm so sorry Allen," she says again as she follows him over, watching as he pulls out an S.T.A.R Labs dark blue sweatshirt and closes the locker, turning towards her.
"It's okay Iris, I'm fine. But might I ask why you were in such a hurry to get up here? Missed me?" His wiggled his eyebrows as he walked back over where the main window was, slowly taking off his shirt to swap it out. Iris came up behind him, catching him off-guard as she grabbed his bicep and spun him around to face her mid-change.
"Well, yeah I haven't heard from you in three days and then—"
Her words stop dead in her throat when she catches the sight of a dark purple bruise bellow his bellybutton, mirroring the gash that the Flash had the night before. Barry sends her a look as he gets the sweatshirt over his body, tugging the blue material down over the bruise so that it's out of Iris' view.
"Um, Iris? You good?" Her shocked eyes go from his stomach and up to his eyes, and she swears she catches a look of fear flash between them.
"I uh, I got to go. I'll text you later."
Then she's rushing out of the room and trying to keep her frenzied mind under control.
Barry Allen was the Flash.
Her best friend was the man behind the mask.
The man she was slowly falling for.
Iris takes three days to process the information, avoiding Barry and contact with the Flash at all costs. It all falls into place for her and she feels stupid for not figuring it out sooner because the facts were directly in front of her all along. It made perfect sense—why sometimes Barry would always run off after hearing sirens if they were out somewhere, why he ate so much (because he was burning it all running), the cryptic faded cuts on his chin or yellow bruises up his arms on some random nights.
Her first emotion wasn't anger though, it was understanding.
As much as she was hurt that he didn't tell her that he was the Flash sooner; she also understood why he had done it. Joe hated the Flash, hated how Iris kept in contact with him these past months but dealt with it purely because she had trusted him so much.
But the two had the same thing in common—they both wanted Iris to stay safe.
Her mind was still twirling as she left a post on her blog wall late that night as she sat in one of the empty tables at Jitters, foot tapping against the polished floor in pique.
Iris-West to The-Flash: I need to talk to you. / posted Monday, 11:34 pm.
She counts the seconds in her head.
The seconds that turn into minutes.
It's excruciating, the waiting. Iris wonders if this is what the Flash—Barry—feels like every time he meets up with her. After thirty five minutes of waiting, he shows up in a blur of red and yellow as he cleans up the tables and dirty silverware left out before coming to a stop a few paces from where Iris sits at the table.
"What do you need to talk about?" His voice is bent, perplexed.
The fact that he didn't hide his voice when he was wounded on the floor the last time they were in there hits her full force and she feels stupid that she was in such a panicky state of mind that she didn't realize that his voice that night was the voice of her best friend.
She closes her laptop with a ringing click, pushing her chair back and standing up to face him in her full height. "Are you okay?"
Obviously, a meager voice in the back of mind called out, because he's your best friend and has super healing, but Iris ignored it; taking a step towards him.
His hazel eyes seemed to glimmer in the dim hue of the room and that's when she noticed that his suit was primed to perfection again—lightning bolt intrepid on his chest and the red a lighter color, the suit no longer bloodstained. "All because of you. I still have some bruises but I'll be alright."
If she wasn't sure that Barry was the Flash before, she was now. She closes her eyes for a moment, "You scared me, you know. There was just . . . so much blood. I thought you were going to die." He looks at her, bright eyes shielded by a steely look.
Then he zips forward so he's standing right in front of her and her eyes shoot open, his masked face inches away from hers. Without saying anything, he reaches a tentative hand forward and takes her hand, raising it to where his heart was and placing it there. He held her hand over the leather of his suit with his and she felt the fast beat of his heart underneath, looking up to him and smiling.
"I thought you were going to die, that your heart was going to stop." She repeats softly, the man in front of her chuckling. The action ripples through her hand, through her body.
"It's still beating." Iris looks up at his face and his open skin is flustered.
"It's really fast."
He doesn't say anything and Iris finds herself getting lost in the exquisite color of his eyes as his heartbeat acts as an alluring drumbeat in the background. Before either one of them knows what's happening, their lips are connected. They don't know who makes the move first and they don't really care because his hands are reaching up to cup her cheeks soundly and her hands are finding their way around his neck.
It's tender and slow but once Iris deepens it then turns into a fiery passion filled with yearning and months of waiting.
He groans softly against her lips when Iris tugs his body closer to hers and they pull back a few blissful moments after that. His hands are still stroking her cheeks and she wants to say everything and nothing at all.
He stares at her for exactly five point six seconds before he's gone, door swinging close in his wake.
Iris stares at the glass in breathless wonder for five extra minutes.
"Allen."
He lowers the vital he's holding, lifting the clear googles off his head to spin in his chair towards where her voice is coming from as she enters his lab slowly. "Oh hey, Iris, what's up?" It was way too hard to keep himself in check since their kiss two days before so he had gone with the avoidance route; figuring being safe was better than being sorry.
Iris approaches him, leaning her back against his desk once she gets close enough as she crosses her arms. "Have you been avoiding me Allen?" Her voice is lined by an emotion he can't quite figure out and he diverts his attention to removing the blue latex gloves from his hands.
"What? Avoiding you? You know I could never do that,"
She raises an eyebrow, "Oh really? Because you seem to be doing a great job these past few days." Barry exhales, throwing the gloves into the trashcan.
"I'm sorry, it's just . . . I've had a lot on my mind." His hands ran through his hair and Iris finds it captivating as she decides the best way to say what's on her mind. She settles on bluntly (because she's Iris and how else can she out her best friend as the superhero that she loves).
"I know."
"Know what?" He mutters as he fixes a stack of papers to the left of them.
"I know that you're the Flash."
The world seems to stop spinning as his eyes widen and he turns towards her, shoulders slacking in defeat when he knows by the look on her face that there's no getting out of this situation. "Iris, I wanted to tell you. But I also wanted to protect you. God, I'm so sorry Iris and—"
Her lips connect with his before he can bumble his way through one of his dorky rants and he returns the kiss with just as much enthusiasm. When their lips disconnect, she sends him a large grin. "It's alright Barry. It's okay." His eyes flicker from her lips and then up to her eyes lazily, a contented smile covering his features.
"That's the first time you've ever called me by my name," he murmurs, taking her hand in his.
"I figured that this is the right occasion for it."
"You're the one thing that always keeps me going Iris."
She looks down at him and the thought that she wouldn't want anyone else right here next to her fills her mind as she reaches a hand up to caress his cheek.
"It's always been you Barry. It's always been us." He reaches forwards and pulls her into his lap, hugging her tight as she nuzzles her face into his chest. She can feel his quick heartbeat against her ear and she knows that from then on, no matter what, he would be the one reason she could keep going on.
That the Flash, Barry Allen, was always going to be her way home.
"I promise I'll never be late again."
"My best friend is always saying that, and he is always late."
"You're worth being on time for."