I have four things to say: first, I'm kind of in love with genderbent!Barry. Second, Iris is lovely. Third, can anyone give me a solid definition of "friend zone?" Because apparently it's a bad thing, but I can't say I've ever disliked being friends with the people I love, even if they don't love me the same way. Finally, my headcanon is that Barry, as the flash, has racing thoughts because everything, including his thought process, has sped up significantly. I know that run-on sentences are unattractive, but I've tried to make the "inner monologue" reflect the "sensation" of racing thoughts.

I don't own the Flash. As far as I'm aware, though, I came up with Bernadette "Berry" Allen. So there's that.

Life in the Friend Zone

Iris West is the greatest thing to happen to the world since accretion, and you're lucky that she even gives you the time of day anymore, considering everything that's happened between you, but she does. You're still best friends because that's how things work; you're happy she's happy, even if there's that little piece of you dying a slow death because you're not the one she's happy with, and two decades of friendship don't just disappear because she suddenly knows what you've felt all along.

"I have no idea how you eat that much ice cream at once," she tells you, half-marveling and half-disgusted. You just left the ice cream shop and you're on your third helping of double-scoop Triple Chocolate Fudge Mint Deluxe and you've actually got a fourth one tucked into the pocket of your hoodie, and Iris is still on her first cup of vanilla chocolate chip. The poor girl will never know how amazing it feels to eat like three gallons of ice cream at once.

"It's a gift," you reply. "A wonderful, delicious gift."

"More like a train wreck. I thought that poor girl in there was going to cry when you ordered a fifth and she couldn't give it to you because she was out. You can't expect me to believe that jogging is your only secret, because I jog too, but I can't eat like you can."

You shrug and lick the excess off your spoon, throw away your empty cup in a nearby can, and pull out your final helping. "I guess it's a little more than that. The lightning kind of changed me physically. Not much, you know, I still look the same and everything, but my metabolism was heightened so I have to eat a lot of calories or I'll get sick or pass out."

"Maybe it is a gift after all." She leans close and bumps you with her shoulder, and the smile on her face is beautiful, and you really want to kiss her all of a sudden but that would be a terrible idea so you stuff another spoonful in your mouth and think about how gross Iris would find it if you leaked ice cream in her mouth. Even if she wanted to kiss you that would probably turn her away forever; she doesn't even share cups with Eddie, who she's dating.

Though she's never had a problem sharing lollipops with you…

No. Bad Berry. You think of Detective Pretty Boy, who – yeah, okay, he's very attractive, and he's much less obnoxious now than he was before you got struck by lightning, and he's actually kind of funny and sweet when he's not being ridiculous and annoying, and Iris really kind of landed a great boyfriend, didn't she? – is still a little weird around you after he found out you confessed to Iris, but she's not weird around you even though she has more of a right to be than anyone else. Good god, you're so lucky she still loves you. Why do people complain about being "Friend Zoned?" In what universe is being friends with the person you love most a bad thing? It sucks you have to watch her face light up when she's talking about, or to, her Perfect Boyfriend Eddie, but nights like this, when you're out together and discussing the pros and cons of that gory plot twist in the romcom you saw before the ice cream, well, nights like this are perfect.

"I have a question for you, Ber," she says, looking uncharacteristically shy under the street light. You've already walked her halfway home, even though you live in the opposite direction, but you don't mind, and she's not complaining, and you really ought to focus on the conversation and not how enchanting the dim lights make her eyes look.

"Okay."

"Why do you think the Flash does what he does?"

"Because…" Huh. This is a weird question, and if you were anyone else the lunacy of trying to make up a reason your alter ego goes a-heroing all the time while simultaneously trying to discover the actual reason you go a-heroing all the time without making it sound like you're actually the Flash because you're totally not, Iris, promise, might throw you into a bit of an identity crisis, but you're Berry Allen, and identity crises – even the fake kind – just kind of piss you off. Brooding heroes are bogus, anyway. You shrug and attend your old standby of just flapping your mouth until the right answer pops out. "I guess he likes it. I know I would. And I don't mean the heroics, though I'm sure all of that is great too, absolutely fantastic really, but the running. Going that fast is the best feeling in the world. To the Flash, I mean. Probably. And even if he didn't care about people, which I'm sure isn't the case at all, I bet he loves Central City, but in a world with guys like the Arrow and Batman working to protect people, having an actual superpower and not using it to help people just seems like a dick move, you know? It's a natural thing. Why do you ask?"

"He never really answered me when I asked, and you know me – when I get that itch, I have to scratch it. I've been thinking about what makes him who he is. Or…who she is. I know you keep telling me the Flash is a guy, but the more I think about the times we met at Jitters, the more I keep remembering little things. The Flash is tall and defined like a guy would be, but the hips are wrong and the chest…well, okay, the chest is pretty flat, but not completely, and a shape like that can't be totally explained by larger-than-normal pecs. The face was pretty blurry and the voice was pretty scrambled, but…well, he or she kind of looked like you, Ber."

"What, you think I'm the Flash now?"

"Of course not." She gives you that look that means she's not impressed with you. It's simultaneously adorable and shame-inducing and you can never decide whether or not you like being on the receiving end. "How could you be the fastest person alive? You'd be late for your own funeral."

This, right here, is the perfect opportunity to just tell her. Hey Iris, I'm the Flash. Surprise! It wouldn't be too hard to pass it off as one of your embarrassing lack-of-filter moments, but even though it kills you to lie to your best friend, you can't do it. You made a promise to Joe, after all, and at this point you're not sure the Flash is completely your secret to tell. It's not a secret you spend half your time at S.T.A.R. Labs, so anyone who knows your secret identity knows who's helping you. Iris is one hundred percent trustworthy, but you're positive Caitlin and Cisco and Dr. Wells wouldn't want to be compromised, no matter who it is.

So you grin and say, "You got me there."

Iris smiles and the whole world smiles with her. You half expect to get a call about a bank robbery, or a jewelry heist, or a murder, or a metahuman intent on doing something vaguely heinous – because after the particle accelerator exploded, power is no longer the change of work over the change of time, but rather the change of work plus the difference between ego and common sense – but nothing comes in. It's you, and it's Iris, and whatever else it isn't, it's pretty damn awesome.