Throughout all the battles with metahumans and awkward double dates with Eddie and, more recently, Patty, there was one tradition Barry and Iris had managed to keep up: Tuesday night movie nights. Every week, Barry found a way to squeeze Iris into his busy crime-fighting schedule, and she in turn set aside whatever story she was chasing to make room for her best friend. They laughed together during Spy and cried together during Max - well, ugly crying in Barry's case and letting a few teardrops roll down her left eye in Iris'. Tears that made her look even more beautiful than usual, or so Barry thought.
Tonight, though, the Trickster was rumored to be back in town and planning some scheme or other, and Barry didn't want to end up leaving Iris alone at a movie theatre with an oversized tub of popcorn. Iris suggested staying home and watching and old classic instead, since Joe was 'working late' at the precinct. Which was, of course, code for banging DA Cecil on the sly and thinking no one would notice.
To make up for potential future ditching, Barry allowed her to choose the film they'd feast on that evening with no input of his own, leading to a hundredth viewing of Clueless. He's done it to himself, really. What else did he think she was going to pick? Not that he had anything against the movie, mind you, but Iris got so into every second of that damn film that it was impossible to keep his eyes off her during it. He knew when she'd smile and when she'd sigh, and he relished each instance of either.
Plus, she was sitting so close to him on the couch, their knees touching lightly, her jasmine perfume filling his nostrils with its intoxicating scent – how was he supposed to pay attention to anything else? And any time Cher and Josh had a scene together, he could swear she leaned in even closer. He cursed himself. This had been such a bad idea. Maybe if they weren't completely alone, he would be too embarrassed to let him mind wander, for fear that everyone could read his thoughts. But on the comfort of her favorite couch, with her head currently nestled against his shoulder ever so perfectly, he couldn't prevent himself from thinking what it could mean. Where they would go from here.
It had been months since Eddie, and Iris had been healing slowly but surely. It had been weeks since he and Patty had broken up, and he couldn't say he was too upset about it. Partially because, even though he and Iris hadn't discussed their feelings since the tragic events of last summer, she had been so much quieter around Patty that he thought… To be honest, he hoped Iris wasn't too upset to see her go either. She'd definitely returned to her touchy feely ways around him, at least. There was a short time after he confessed his feelings to her (on the very couch he was now contemplating said feelings, hmm) that she had done her best to restrain her affectionate side around him, Out of some twisted sense of respect, he guessed. And then again after Eddie's death, she spent a few weeks not touching anyone, let alone him. But now she was back to full-on touching, grasping, groping, hugging and… Well, he kind of wondered if it was a sign. Did she want him to touch her, too? What would she do if he did?
Around the time Tai decided to follow her heart and go after skateboard guy, Barry thought it best to try something new as well. As gracefully as he could, which was not very gracefully at all, he moved his arm from the back of the couch where his fingers had been absentmindedly playing with her hair. (Why had they been doing that? Bad fingers! And why didn't she say anything?) Then – with all the game of someone who had never even seen a girl, let alone touched one – he let his hand rest on her bare knee. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of what a short skirt she was wearing. He bit his lip hard enough to nearly draw blood, but Iris only giggled into his shoulder.
A few minutes passed, or maybe seconds that felt like minutes, and he started rubbing circles on her soft skin with his thumb. Her breath hitched, which could go either way, but it was followed by a contented sigh. He took that as a good sign and slid his hand slightly higher.
This time she hummed ever so softly, and lifted her head up to look at him with a mixture of wonder and fear. He imagined his face mirrored her own. Somewhere behind them, Josh was accidentally admitting he thought Cher was pretty.
"Bear, I love this part," she whispered, like it was some sort of secret she was sharing and not another fact he'd known about since they were twelve.
"I love you," he whispered back, without even meaning to.
Iris pulled back, her eyes welling up with tears, and he knew he'd ruined everything. Again. But then her hands reached up to hold his face and she captured his lips with her own.