It's not that Iris has never witnessed Barry engaging in embarrassing activity before. She remembers discovering his hidden vocal talent when they were teenagers, maybe fall of sophomore year. She had peeked through the crack of his bedroom door to find him recording himself belting an obnoxious tune at the top of his lungs, serenading no one but the picture of himself in his web camera. And now that they share a roof under entirely different circumstances as a couple, she's obviously stumbled upon him a few times in the heated midst of working himself, all flushed and strained and breathless (though the first time she caught him in that act about two months after they had moved in together, he swore he was more humiliated the day she uncovered his singing).
But nothing has been more puzzling than what Barry appears to be doing right now, turned toward the mirror of her vanity table, chest puffed out, shoulders squared back, making peculiar faces. He sticks and wiggles his tongue out at his reflection, before deciding the fingers on both his hands should pose for world peace. He then changes his mind to slick a hand through his tousled hair, winking at himself in the process.
He's clearly too invested in his antics and his image to notice her lean on the frame of the doorway with her arms folded across her chest, amused at the sight of his ridiculous gestures. She wants to stand still and remain inconspicuous for as long as possible to take in as much of this goofiness as she can, and partly to see where his creativity leads him. It currently directs him to cross his eyes crazily toward his nose and then blow his cheeks out. She thinks to slip her phone out to capture a video of him (there's no way Cisco wouldn't relish this), but she doesn't want to risk making any noise.
Apparently, Barry chooses to abandon silly in favor of sexy when his gaze suddenly focuses intently on the mirror. His lips purse unwaveringly, his eyes squint slightly, and his brows knit together in a blatant smolder. The effort it took her not to laugh out loud at him betrays her when he turns his head from side to side to examine himself, evidently pleased at what he sees. She watches the moment his attempt at a seductive stare transforms into a look of pure horror once he hears her cackling and realizes he hasn't been alone with his reflection throughout the course of his absurd performance.
"Iris!" he gasps, whipping around a little too quickly. He knocks over her display of makeup brushes with his flailing limbs, too taken aback by the situation to register that he can speed catch them.
He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his torso, trying and failing to look casual.
"Hey, Iris," he chuckles nervously. "What's up?"
"Don't even try to pretend I didn't see what I just saw, Barry."
He blushes, bringing a sheepish hand behind his head, accepting defeat. "Well…I still say this isn't as bad as when you caught me singing."