A/N: I couldn't resist writing something about Barry being a dad. I didn't expect to feel so strongly for the West-Allen family, but I absolutely loved their interactions in the season premiere. So here's a somewhat sad, somewhat fluffy piece revolving around Barry and Nora. Please, tell me if you like it.
For The First Time
He couldn't explain the fierce, protective instinct that swelled in his chest as he looked at her. He couldn't begin to comprehend the absolute rightness he felt in his bones as he taught her how to phase, or the warmth that blocked his throat and almost stopped his breath when she wrapped her arms tightly around him. She was his daughter.
He'd told Iris that he was upset about missing all of those firsts they'd talked about. The idea that he'd missed finding out he was having a little girl – a tiny person he and Iris made, who could turn out just like her mother – had made a small, claw-like wound inside him, filled him with a dull rage at the universe. He had a right to be surprised when they looked at the ultrasound, to feel relieved that she looked more like Iris than like him, when she was born. He didn't deserve to be messed with anymore. It was time for Barry to have some sense of normalcy.
Then he talked with Nora, and saw how desperately she needed him. She revealed that he was absent for most of her life, and the claw-like wound stitched back together as he recognized the pain and longing in her glances. He knew how hard it was to be without a parent, growing up. He realized that, if the future was set, and did turn out the way Nora had experienced it, he couldn't afford to wait for those firsts. He didn't have time.
He didn't want her to not remember him, and ran with her to get their favorite cookie dough ice cream. He didn't want her to not know what kind of person he was, and offered to teach her whatever she wanted to know.
He wanted her to know how much he loved her: how proud he was of her stubbornness and intellect; how impressed he was by her determination and how happy the idea that she would never have a good poker face made him; how absolutely awed he was by the fearlessness she could only have gotten from her mother, and by the speed that, somehow, was a perfect blend of himself and Iris. He wanted to cram a lifetime's worth of firsts into whatever time she had with them, here in the past, and never look back.
So when they got back with their ice cream and sat in the lounge, he did the things he remembered his dad doing, and Joe. The little things that they'd done without a second thought, and never expected recognition for. He handed her a napkin before she even started eating, so she wouldn't have to be embarrassed when the ice cream melted onto her hands, because she was talking too much to eat (which she would, if she was Barry's daughter). He touched her on the arm every once in a while, simply to let her know he was there, and make sure for himself that she was. He made up the couch for her, bringing a comforter and sheets from home and fluffing the pillows. And though she was too old for it, and he knew she wouldn't be going to sleep yet, he watched her lay down, and brought the blanket over her as he said a whispered goodnight. He could see the emotions swimming in her eyes as he smoothed the blanket near her shoulder. In the corner of his eye he saw Iris smile, probably thinking it a warranted, paternal overreaction to meeting Nora. Barry met Nora's eyes and knew she realized what he was doing. He leaned down slowly, brushing her hair back and kissing her forehead. When he leaned back, her eyes were closed, the skin scrunched up and tense as she fought off tears – tears he was trying to hide as well. Iris kissed her goodnight and stood to leave, but Barry had a hard time making himself walk away, that night. It was the first time he said goodnight to her.
It was the first time she ever remembered him being there to do it.
She opened her eyes, sitting up as they walked towards the door. Looking at him, and seeming more a child than a grown adult with the tears caught in her eyelashes. I love you, she mouthed, when he turned back fully.
That warmth clogged his throat again and temporarily stopped his breath, preventing him from even trying to return the words. He opened his mouth, and it took a few seconds before he was able to mouth the words back to her. As he did he dipped his head at her, never breaking eye contact. The tears on Nora's lashes spilled over onto her cheeks, though she smiled.
Iris reached for his hand, and he backed out of the lounge, keeping Nora's eyes until he was out of sight. As far as he could tell, she kept smiling. He had a small smile of his own as he and Iris walked down the hall. Small, and relatively sad, and he squeezed Iris's hand a little tighter as they got into the elevator, his thoughts completely on the beautiful, brave little girl the two of them would make.
He wished he could be there to raise her, but he couldn't be greedy. He'd just gotten a first that, apparently, he was never supposed to get.
He was glad he'd gotten a second chance.
