A/N: Okay, so I took the prompt, but it slowly turned into a long character study of Iris (E-1). I can't write something without giving it a proper setting and backstory, so the first chapter serves as the introduction, on the second one they meet, and on the final one, well... you'll see.
Also, I build up a case with a metahuman, but only as an excuse to get this story to where I want it. Didn't feel like writing such a long explanation at the end, but that comes later.
I'm not super happy with the ending, the whole Perkins thing, but honestly, I feel like my brain's dried up. I'll come back to it later and give it a more suitable ending. Maybe.
Any mistakes you find, let me know. English is not my first language.
I
This new metahuman is giving them all a headache. Things don't disappear from bank vaults just like that, so it doesn't take Barry and the others long to find out that the latest string of inexplicable robberies are the work of a super powered person.
Here's what they know: it's a thirty something year old man, bald, and it looks like he can walk through walls. At least, to Iris it seems so.
"He's not Kitty Pryde," says Cisco.
Iris can't help raising her eyebrows to heaven and beyond, head turning towards him. They are at Star Labs, Cisco and Caitlin behind the keyboards, while herself, Barry and her dad wait for the explanation that is sure to follow.
Cisco shrugs, his hands flying into the air. "He doesn't just walk through walls. He merges with the environment."
"That's why you can't find him," Caitlin quips. "He's probably hiding inside a wall or something, somewhere out in the city."
"So, he comes into the vault through the east wall," Cisco says, his fingers making quick work of the keyboard. A video feed starts playing on the screen right in front of them. He freezes the image and they see the metahuman clearly halfway through the concrete, his lower half still in the wall. "We found DNA embedded into the vault's wall, so with that…" He clicks away, tucking a lock of stray hair behind his ear.
Charts and streams of data flash on the screens, and Iris only gets half of what they say.
Caitlin moves away from the control centre and towards the middle of the room, to point at the screen currently showing a man's photograph. A man almost identical to the bald man from the heist.
"What Cisco means is that we used the DNA sample from the bank and traced it back to its owner. But the thing is, this," a finger towards the ID of a black man with a crew cut, "and our thief," another finger pointing to the bald man on the bank's feed, "are not exactly the same."
It immediately dawns on Iris. "The thief is his Earth Two doppelganger."
"Bingo," said Cisco, clapping once at her genius.
Joe frowns, looking down. His thumb and index fingers come to rest on his mouth as he thinks this through. "But, I thought," he says, finally looking up at Barry standing beside Iris, "that the only remaining portal to Earth Two was here, in Star Labs. And that you'd closed it when…"
He can't bring himself to finish. Everyone knows what he was about to say. There's no need to put it into words.
But Iris can't help but agree with his logic. The image of Andrew Perkins, both the thief and the man that, according to the data on the screen is a school teacher here, imprints itself on her retinas. She can finally give a name and a face to the man they've been chasing for weeks.
And it haunts her, because her boss has been all over her because of this case, because she begged him to give the job to her knowing that it was a metahuman. But now that she knows their Andrew, the Earth One Andrew, is a good guy, she's not sure she can expose the other one without people getting hurt in the process.
Barry straightens up from where he was leaning against the control centre. "That," he begins, a finger in the air, "may be our fault." It sounds like a question.
Iris knows the look on his face all too well. "What do you mean, Barry?"
He runs a hand over his face and sighs. "It's just that… since we found out that Jay is Zoom, we've been trying to find a way to stop him. And we may have, you know, inadvertently, opened up a new portal, outside of Star Labs."
Joe's jaw almost hits the floor. Yep, it's bad. His head turns to Cisco in search of confirmation.
Cisco is already with his hands in the air, a gesture of defensiveness. "We didn't mean it!"
"Or course we didn't mean to open up a new breach into another world and help our most fierce enemy in the process, Cisco."
Everyone's heads turn at the sound of the new voice. Harrison Wells, clad in all black, spiky hair pointing up, enters the room, tablet in hand. His way of appearing out of thin air like some Harry Potter character has always unnerved Iris. That, and what he does to his voice. Does he have to talk like the freaking Batman? And let's not forget that he looks just like the man that killed her fiancé.
You can't blame her for taking a step back every time he enters a room.
Wells is too preoccupied by tinkering on his tablet to notice the stares he's getting. They know he's on their side -they helped save his daughter, for God's sake!-, but still… Iris' natural response to anything he says is immediate distrust. So she waits. And crosses her arms for good measure.
After playing with his tablet some more, a new graphic appears on the screens. "Using the DNA sample from the crime scene, I was able to trace this map of how Mr Perkins got into the bank's vault," he says, positioning himself in the middle of the room.
A blueprint of the bank is shown, along with schematics for the sewer system, connecting, finally, to a subway station. Iris follows the red line that signifies Perkins' journey through walls and pipes and who knows what else. The line ends abruptly, along with Iris' feeling of hope.
"The DNA trail goes cold once he's out in the open, but at least we know how he does it," says Barry.
Joe takes a step closer to the screen showing the map, analysing it. "Does he always resurface at the same subway station?"
"Unfortunately, no," Wells chimes in. "And since he didn't limit himself to stealing only from banks, we have no way of figuring out what his next target might be."
"What about the things he's stealing?" asks Iris. "Are they useful if connected? Is he selling them on the black market?"
"We're on that," Caitlin tells her. "But so far, nothing."
"So, we've no way of telling what he might do next, no way of stopping him going through... stuff," Joe mimics something coming out of another thing with his arms, and if the situation weren't dire, Iris might find it endearing. "We can't do anything?"
"There is one thing we could do." Barry's voice is like a child's waiting for his dad to scold him. He looks at Wells, becoming small under the older man's stare.
"We've been through this, Allen."
Barry shakes his head, getting ready to make his case, his mouth resembling a fish out of water, but Iris beats him to it. She thinks she might know where this is going, and damn if she's not going to take advantage of this opportunity.
"We should go to Earth Two, find out everything we can about Andrew Perkins," she says. Her blood is boiling with excitement. Being closest to Barry, she grabs his arm, unable to contain her glee. "They have to have some kind of record on him, right?"
The sparkle in her eyes blinds her to Barry's silent "ow", and she pays him no mind when he frees himself from her vice-like grip, her gaze fixed on Wells.
All she gets from him, though, is a rotund, "No."
"What do you mean, no?" she says, her voice turning two octaves higher. "He could be building a nuclear bomb, for all we know. Or stealing the money to pay someone else to do it for him."
"Wells… I-" Barry tries to help Iris, but seems like nothing they say will change Wells' mind.
"You know what would happen if you went over there with Zoom still trying to kill you. This is not some kind of game, Allen!"
Iris watches as Barry's face transforms, the hand nursing the bruise from her falling to his side. A smile that is not a smile blooms on Barry's face and she fears for anyone who is the target of his anger.
Actually, considering that that person is Harrison Wells, she might be a little thrilled as she watches the showdown. Just a little.
"You don't think I know that?" is Barry's laced-with-venom answer. "But what happens if next time Perkins decides to rob something, an innocent person gets in his way and he decides that he needs to kill them to get away with it?" Barry shakes his head, but never takes his gaze off of Wells'. "Mmm mmm, no. I'm not willing to let that happen."
Wells takes a step forward, invading Barry's personal space, bringing himself face-to-face with the younger scientist. "If you want to-" he begins.
But Cisco cuts him off. "I think I might have a way to stop Zoom from sensing us, once we're in Earth Two," he says, rising from his chair.
He can't stop twiddling his thumbs, and Iris thinks she might be the only person in this room who would never cower under Wells' stare.
She's pretty sure he'd be cowering under hers. And she can't really help but let her smug grin from bubbling up to the surface.
II
If you asked Iris what it felt like going through a portal to another universe, you'd get -at most- an image of her gazing into the unknown. Because, really, walking into another dimension, that's something that you have to go through yourself. No amount of clear explanations would cover the experience.
She could tell you that it made her sick, that Barry had to rub her back as she emptied the contents of her stomach on an alien street in a world out of a steampunk novel. Maybe she'd tell you that it feels worse than your worst hangover, ever. She'd say that she had thought she'd be better prepared for it, and that she wasn't expecting to be the only one this badly affected.
It bothers her to have to let Barry hold her up as they walk down the sidewalk, Caitlin hailing a cab that'll take them to this Earth's version of the CCPD. They get some stares, not because of Iris' drowsiness, though. They should have thought about a change of wardrobe before coming over, but hey, they were in a hurry.
Iris really needs some dramamine.
The four of them get in the taxi Caitlin summoned: Cisco, Barry and Iris at the back, and Caitlin up front, already instructing the cabbie to take them to the police station. The cabbie gives them a once over, shrugs, and puts the car in motion. Iris is sure he's seen weirder things.
She breathes in, trying to tell her stomach to calm down. She's not sure if she's still sick from the journey over here or if it's the idea that she's minutes from meeting herself what's causing her entrails to churn. She needs to get a grip. And a dramamine. Why didn't she take any before coming over here? Barry should have warned her.
Apparently, they materialised on the other side of town, and it takes more than half an hour to get to the station. Which is fine by Iris, the ride is giving her some time to get a grip on her stomach ache. She'll have to ask someone to give her an aspirin once they get there, though.
Her head starts to clear out, finally allowing Iris to take in the scenery on the other side of her window. Eyes wide as plates, mouth round in a silent exclamation, her sharp intake of breath puts a smile on Barry's face.
"Oh, I wish Dad could see this," she whispers.
"Pretty cool, huh?" says Cisco.
"Yeah. Pretty cool."
The exterior of the CCPD looks just like the one she's always known, but seen through a sepia filter. The edges and corners of the concrete walls appear as if aged in a permanent photograph.
The shadows are an earthy brown.
Iris has a sudden urge to lose her brown leather jacket, fitted red halter top and black jeans and exchange them for something out of a 20s noir movie, the kind her dad likes to watch.
"Come on," says Barry, once they're all on the sidewalk, hiding behind a tree. "We'll go in through the side door. Anyone sees us," he points to Iris and himself, "and we could throw them off, but if they see Caitlin or Cisco, then it's game over."
Iris has walked these steps countless times in her visits to see her dad or Barry. But… she's never walked these floors. She's never breathed in this air. Heavy with the scent of charged coffee, black and thick. Similar to the one she knows, but not quite the same. It's surreal.
They reach the CSI lab before she notices it. A door no one ever uses in her Earth is their way in.
Everywhere she looks, it reminds her of Barry's lab, except, there's different types of machines here. No whiteboard to keep track of murders. Instead, screens and beakers, and lights and sounds. She'd never noticed how quiet Barry's own lab is.
Barry leads the way, but it looks like no one's home. They need to find this Earth's Barry, and soon.
"I could try and crack the firewall in this thing," Cisco offers, eyeing the special equipment the police here use to detect metahuman activity.
But then, steps coming to a halt. A cup shattering on the floor, splashing liquid everywhere. And-
"Iris."
She can feel her headache coming back, tenfold.
Behind her group stands who can only be Earth Two's Barry Allen. And she cannot believe her eyes.
"Hi there, Barry, remember us?"
Iris's Barry takes a step forward, and so does Cisco. Both their features scream good intentions, but Iris is sure Barry Two is seriously thinking about reaching for something sharp to stab them with.
"Wha- wha- what's…" he stammers.
Iris takes a deep, steadying breath and positions herself in front of him, hands raised. "Barry?" she says, her voice a soothing balm. "We really need your help."
"Yeah," says Barry, moving closer to her. "Yours and Iris'."
"She should be here any second now," Barry Two says, looking at Iris with a curious frown on his face. "She's on medical leave, so she's coming from home."
A pang of pain shoots through Iris, adding to her already bad headache. "Medical leave?" she repeats. "Did something happen?"
Barry One sits up straight on the chair he's sitting on, listening intently, as do Caitlin and Cisco from their posts next to the computers in the corner.
"She, uh… I almost lost her last month, " says Barry Two. "She was shot."
A unanimous "What?" echoes in the lab. To which someone replies:
"Barry! Don't be so dramatic!"
How could Iris not have heard her walk in? The woman's wearing heeled shoes and yet Iris didn't hear a sound.
"Well, if anyone had told me I'd be meeting me today, I would have made a little bit more of an effort with my attire."
More of an effort? Seriously? Iris Two looks like she just stepped out of a make-up trailer from one of those movies she was thinking about. High rise tailored pants, lovely loose blouse that still hugged her curves in all the right places, hair made up into a neat bun. Even the sling keeping her left arm close to her torso does next to nothing in terms of ruining the outfit.
The only thing bothering Iris One are the clear bags under her doppelganger's eyes, the paleness of her skin. Suddenly she feels like a burden, like it isn't her place to intrude.
But then the other her smiles, her same smile but not quite, a difference to the lilt of her lips, and Iris is overwhelmed by the need to learn everything about this woman.
If only her head would stop pounding.
"Iris, hi," Barry One greets her.
He gets up from his chair and Iris's chest flares up with jealousy at his nonchalant attitude in the face of all this. He must have had his freak out moment the first time he came to this Earth, she thinks. Because no one - no one- could be this unaffected when confronted with themselves. In another body. Another person, separate from who you are, but still the same, maybe? Ugh, this is confusing.
He puts into words what they're all thinking. "What happened to you?"
Iris Two, finally peels her gaze from her other self to look at him. Iris feels her heart expand, free from her grip. "This is just a flesh wound," she tells them. "A metahuman I was tracking down shot me, before disappearing into thin air."
"Actually," Barry Two chimes in, "into their Earth."
Caitlin takes a step forward. "We need help if we want to capture Andrew Perkins. He's been stealing seemingly random things and we have no idea how to track him. We don't know what he wants."
Iris still can't take her eyes off of the other her. She knows get body enough to be able to tell that Iris Two is tired, possibly in pain, from the little twitches of her mouth, the way she looks down when she grimaces minutely. She wonders what other flesh wounds she might have under those layer of clothes.
"That's because he doesn't do what he wants," Iris Two says. "He does what Zoom tells him to."
Barry Two twitches at the mention of the man. "Speaking of, how is it that Zoom hasn't come to kill us all by know?"
Cisco laughs proudly and engages in a conversation about the gadgets he designed to scramble the frequency in which they vibrate. Basically, the wrist watches they're all wearing, something he came up with basing his design on Wells' own.
And all Iris can focus on is the hand on that waist and the tired curve of that spine, and before she knows it…
"Um, Iris?" she asks. Her exact same brown eyes find hers. They bore into her. "I had a pretty rough journey over here, and anyway, I was hoping to talk to you about this case. You know, for my assignment at the paper?"
"Oh?" Iris Two slightly lifts her eyebrows, her eyes sparkling.
"How about we let the boys and Caitlin do the work here, and we go hom- to your place, to, uh, chat. Just the two of us."
"You know what, that sounds perfect."
III
Somehow, it's not strange at all for Iris to enter a house that looks like hers, but isn't. The goggles of fascination are still in place, covering her big, round eyes.
She hears her double relieve herself of her shoes and pad on naked feet over to a cabinet in the corner. Iris Two's gentle sighs of relief are not unlike her own.
All around are photos of Iris's life with Barry, Iris and her mum, Iris looking… stunning, is the word, in a white wedding dress.
"I still have that dress, if you ever want to borrow it," Iris Two tells her.
Iris hadn't noticed her walk up to her right. She turns her head, finds her holding a couple of tumblers filled with amber liquid, offering one to her with her good hand and holding the one for herself awkwardly in her left. She feels a soft smile spread on her lips, and puts the framed photo back on the mantel over the fireplace. Soft fingers, used to conjure up stories on a keyboard and a screen, brush fingers that could have been her own, of only her father hadn't made it impossible for her to join the academy like she'd wanted as a kid.
Through her lashes, Iris sees her mirror image contemplating their touch, a flush appearing on her otherwise perfectly composed face. She wonders if maybe the opposite would be true for her, if she'd had a dad that would have prevented her from following her dream and joining the police force.
Iris takes the tumbler from the other woman's hand, grateful for the drink that she hopes will do something to help clear her mind.
She turns back to the mantel, eyes landing on the photograph that takes up centre space.
"Dad."
She doesn't see it, but the blush escapes from Iris Two's cheeks, moisture blooming in her eyes. She hears her plop down on the sofa behind her, the sound followed by a sharp intake of breath. It rips through Iris, that sound, harder than she would have thought.
"You know," her double says, "I always think about Dad in your Earth. How he's doing, if his home cooked meals taste the same over there as they did here."
The tumbler in Iris's hand suddenly weighs a ton. She takes a sip to alleviate the burden. Slowly, she turns around, her gaze falling on the other woman looking up at her through reddened eyes. She looks small, with her feet over the sofa, her wounded arm, and that drink resting in her knee. Iris wonders if this is what she looks like when she cries. She takes another sip.
"How is he?"
"He's just fine, happy."
"That's good." Iris Two sighs. "Yeah. That keeps me going."
Iris downs her drink in one gulp and rests the empty glass over the mantel. The leather over her shoulders turns smothering and she pulls it off, depositing the jacket over the back of the sofa.
She feels the other woman's eyes traveling over her exposed skin and wonders, again, what could be going through her mind. Probably not the same things that are screaming in her own brain right now.
Mimicking the other Iris, she takes off her shoes, tucks her feet under her on the sofa. It feels like the sofa she's always known, she thinks. Warm and reliable. The smell is different, though. Muskier.
"Barry, that is, my Barry, he told me Dad sang in this Earth?"
Iris Two smiles as she closes her eyes, reminiscing. And Iris takes the opportunity to look her over once more, examine the face she sees every day and spot the differences, like in a game. This Iris's make-up is not the same, more soft looking than hers, possibly because of her job at the police. But it's the crinkles around her eyes what separates them the most. This Iris looks likes she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Doesn't seem fair at all.
"Boy, did he sing. Everyone came to listen to him. Music became his new love, once he lost what he most cared about. But, he had me. And that was enough, he said." At last, she opens her eyes to meet Iris's staring right back at her.
"I wish I could have met him," she says, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear.
"But anyway, thanks for getting me out of the precinct. It's been a while since the shooting, but there are still days when I'm just not at my peak. Like, today."
Iris frowns, shaking her head. "Yeah, no, of course. Barry can be really thick sometimes when it comes to reading my moods, so I figured, yours was too."
"Yeah," Iris Two laughs.
The headache Iris was feeling before seems to be all but gone, a few small traces of it remain.
"Another drink?" she offers, even though it's not her house.
"Sure.
"So," she begins, as Iris gets up and fetches them a refill. "Your boss is giving you a hard time with this one?"
Iris gives her back her glass. She's careful not to touch her this time, although she's not sure why. She says, "I mean, half the places Perkins robbed didn't even have security cameras. It took weeks to find out how he does it, and we still have no way of stopping him. How can I report something I only have half the facts of?"
The back of the sofa sinks comfortably under her weight, her spine disarticulating against the cushions. A heavy exhale escapes her and her eyes shut closed.
"But it's not just that. I was supposed to be planning my wedding, this was supposed to be the best time of my life. I don't even know anymore."
Warmth. Searing her leg through the fabric of her trousers. She means to take a sip of her drink, but there's no more in her glass. It shouldn't feel like this to touch another human being. No amount of alcohol should be able to bring these sensations to her body.
But it looks like she may not be the only one feeling the fire.
The hand that was meant to offer comfort now finds itself gripping harder, painfully so, and the sharp breath her double takes makes Iris do the same, her chest in need of the oxygen.
She wonders if it's the same for everyone else, touching their doppelgangers. Barry never told her what it felt like to touch Earth Two Barry. But then again, she never asked.
"I'm so sorry," Iris Two breathes out.
It burns, coiling inside her ear canal, and the heat coming off of the other Iris feels close, close, closer than before, her right hand still gripping Iris's thigh.
The buzz in her head, is that because of the booze? Or is this Earth affecting her in a special way, a way that only applies to her and her body?
Her chest (hers) against her shoulder; rapid breathing, same as hers, and skin.
Lips
on
her
ear
Burning hell.
Iris feels nails claw at her thigh through her trousers and she doesn't care. She relishes in the sensation because it is igniting something inside of her that she'd never known existed up until now.
A small gasp of pain from the other woman forces her to open her eyes. They are so close, electricity flows between the two. Iris cranes her neck, brings her mouth closer to her double's. And sees the hesitation in her eyes, in the way they roam over her face as if trying to win the battle waging in her skull.
But then
Iris closes the distance. Lips land on lips and oh-
An explosion. A mingled sigh of relief in between the air they're not quite breathing.
The hand still resting on her thigh moves up, up, and Iris can't help it if the sofa's catching fire and the only way to stay alive is to arch her back and get away from it and closer to her.
Neither one wants to sever the lifeline that forms around the two.
Iris's hands fly up to land on the other's neck and she never knew a person could feel like they were disintegrating under her scorching touch.
She doesn't know, doesn't care whose mouth covers whose because, really, that's besides the point here. Every single one of her thoughts vacates her mind, and she's sure the same is true for her double. The world has stopped moving. For them. For this one moment of release.
Iris feels like falling, it's all she can do to grab the other woman's shoulders to prevent her body from crashing to the ground.
(And as for Iris Two, the pain in her shoulder seems to have vanished. It's as if this woman from another world knew when to come and take her worries away.)
Neither woman feels in control of her actions. But it's okay. They decided to let things fall where they may some time ago.
Slowly or all at once, Iris covers the other woman with her body, her fire. They lay on the sofa, shivering bodies and the feeling of want coursing through their veins. Iris kisses her, and her brain all but bursts into a shower of stars. Her double's trying to coerce her lips to part for her, and she obliges, feeling a hot tongue brushing hers right after.
She's not sure whose gasp she hears, whose moan, they are interchangeable, expanding in the air waves around them. A cocoon of sounds that fuels the heat.
Her spine arches, a shiver traveling down to her centre. She presses her chest against the other Iris, the one beneath her, and she swears, she swears it, that she is in both places at once, here and there, up and down, top and bottom. It feels like drowning in lava.
Iris Two's good hand tangles in her hair, nails rake her scalp. Iris drops her mouth to the other's neck, to feel her veins pulsing under her lips, and she was right, there's the river of fire she can feel enveloping her. She licks at it, lapping it up, she's parched and this is the only way to quench her thirst. Her double's lips at her ear, her breathy sighs, the way she arches up and off the sofa to meet her, make her all the more thirsty.
The heat is too much, it's worse than the hottest day of summer when all you want is to hang around in underwear all day. Suddenly, the need to get Iris off of her blouse invades her senses, but she remembers enough to know that she's hurt, she has to be careful with her arm.
Iris, the one from this Earth, smiles sweetly up at her as she's helped out of her sling, her blouse, her bra. Where they'd been devouring each other a second before, they now take their time. There's no rush, not really, the fire's here to stay, they understand that now.
The one on top looks down at a body just like hers, but not quite. There's a bullet wound on her mirror image's shoulder, all but healed by now, an angry pink scar looking up at her. Her fingers touch the scar, and she feels it, but it's like looking at something through 3D glasses, you can't be sure if the image's right there in front of you or very far away. The sigh she hears from Iris Two, her reaction to her touch, these are the signals that tell her she's really here.
Laying on the sofa, Iris looks hauntingly beautiful, all glowing skin and strong muscles. Here's another difference between the two: Earth One Iris is not sedentary, but she never received the kind of training her double got. The taut muscles in Iris Two's stomach contract as the woman over her trails her hand down her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts, and over her abs. She bites on her lower lip, waiting. They both do.
Iris Two's hand find skin under the red top, sending a new flare of heat through the woman straddling her. (Is it wrong that she thinks this is the most beautiful image she's ever seen? Does that mean she's terribly narcissistic? Maybe, but this is not the time to wonder about such things, not when a gorgeous woman in writhing above you.) She can't find her voice, but her touch says it all. Iris understands.
The red halter top joins the sling and the blouse on the floor and Iris Two's eyes fight to remain open as she sees that her double wasn't wearing anything under it.
It is suddenly incredibly hard for Iris to stay upright. Her chest falls forward, slapping the other woman's and a star dies in the space between them. An inferno threatens to consume them both.
The itch, the urge, it comes back tenfold, the thirst. She drinks from every nook and cranny in Iris's body. From the space between her breasts, so soft, cool and inviting, a fountain of fresh water. Her hands develop a mind of their own, touching everything in their wake. The curves in her body, her body, the same ones she's always known.
And yet, not quite.
There's a roughness to this woman's skin, a worn feel to it that intoxicates her senses. She doesn't question her need to bite down on soft flesh, a mouthful of breast. A lick over a volcano, its heat pouring out of a nipple. Neither one questions their actions. The link created between them lets one know exactly what the other one needs.
And what they need right now is to keep drinking from that fresh spring in the valleys of their bodies.
In the blink of an eye, Iris removes the laying woman's tailored pants, her underwear. She stands next to her and for a second is immobilised, eyes roaming over her. Both women breathe heavily, one tongue darts out, taunting the other, a lip is bitten down, and Iris (the one standing up) all but rips her own pants off. It is unclear how her own underwear is removed. They have stopped paying attention to trivial things.
What matters is this: two identical bodies inhabited by two very different minds converging in this point in time and space. Who knows what the mathematical implications of these actions are. (Certainly not them.)
One body
over another
tangled limbs
mixed breaths
and the feeling of
through the abyss.
Iris finds the source of the spring in between lean legs, the sound of the current falling out of full lips. It is what she needs, what they both need, the coolness to calm the heat, to bring relief to their aching nerve endings. But she doesn't trust herself to take the plunge. So first, she dips a finger, two fingers, in the wetness, tasting it afterwards.
It's sweet against her lips, their lips, and the need to take the dive head first rushes back up to the forefront of her mind. So she dives in.
Breathing is hard when you're under water, but Iris tries anyway, to inhale the tangy, sweet scent. She commits it to memory, the smells, the sounds.
And again the feeling of drowning.
She would be lost to the depths, if not for the other Iris's hand holding on to hers for dear life.
The heat in her throat is such, that she knows the remedy to quell the fire is to drink from the fountain right before her eyes. So she does. Her mouth latches onto lips, demanding more, more. The ground quivers under her, or perhaps that's just the woman beneath her, slipping out of her control.
Experience is not required, they both seem to know what to do.
Fingers dig into the hills around her face, the only way Iris knows to stay floating besides holding on to the hand keeping her above water. She licks, and drinks, and gathers up every tiny drop of moisture offered to her, gladly given to her. And then a new hand, tugging her hair (she doesn't know if it's to pull her up and keep her from drowning or if it's meant to pull her down, down into the centre).
The fire keeps spreading, but it's not bothersome anymore. It's a welcome sensation.
Iris looks up, never breaking contact with the other woman's skin, and is fascinated by the sight before her. Iris Two's spine comes off of the cushions once their eyes meet, a moan leaving her lips, the vibration reaching Iris's mouth and shaking her core. She has to close her eyelids, a groan in her throat, and keep suckling on the one thing keeping her sane.
The hand on her scalp keeps tugging, but it's a delightful kind of pain.
She has to breathe, has to separate herself from her fountain for a second, but she doesn't go far. Her nose nuzzles the bundle of nerves directly in front of her, and she trembles in unison with her double, the sensations going full circle, from one body, one mind, to the other. Multiplying as they go round
and round
and
"Oh!"
The sound, the gasp, a final quiver, and the break of the dam. Iris feels her double's body contracting, releasing, riding the waves of pleasure. She knows because she's right there with her. She doesn't need more, doesn't have to be touched to be able to explode.
She muffles her groan in between Iris Two's lips, while her thighs trap her in place.
She'd gladly stay there, forget about everything else.
They move in tandem, slowly, languidly.
Rocking again.
up up
and And
down.
For now, the fire's cooled down.
For now, they've found a way to stay with their necks above water.
They don't want to think about later.
(What they don't know, though, is that this moment has forever changed their perception of the world around them. What they will learn over time, is that they will never again feel alone.)
Both women swim to the shore and rest there, skin touching skin, hearts finding their way back to their somewhat normal states.
No one bothers them. The universe knows they both need the rest, so it gives it to them, its humble gift for these two strong females.
In the end, Barry Two gives Cisco, Caitlin and Barry the means to capture the thief back in Earth One. Something he'd been developing before Perkins made the journey over on to the other Earth. The details are lost on Iris.
All she knows is that she'll have to bury this story under layers of technicalities, if she means to protect the Andrew Perkins from their Earth. She already knows how her editor will react, but hopefully, she'll be able to pull another, shinier story, from her idea hat, and dazzle him with it, enough so he'll forget about this disaster.
In the living room of Barry and Iris's house, as they all say their goodbyes, she realises she's not scared anymore. She's drank from the magic fountain, and she's sure its power will last forever.