Mother's Day
The second Sunday in May dawns bright and beautiful, a perfect precursor to the summer weather that's waiting to break through the smattering of spring showers that have covered Central City lately. Caitlin wakes up early, reaching quickly to silence the chirp of her alarm clock before the quiet sound wakes her slumbering husband—a stupid worry really, Barry Allen would probably sleep through a meta human induced apocalypse if he didn't have her to elbow him awake. Still, she's been waiting for this particular Sunday morning for a while now and she doesn't want to leave anything to chance.
Quiet and careful, she eases herself out of his grasp, pausing to stroke gentle fingers across his brow when Barry stirs slightly, the action soothing him back into a deep sleep, punctuated only by the occasional drag of a snore (which he swears he does not do, always looking so put out by the accusation that she gives up and kisses him placatingly). Once she's completely extricated herself from his arms, Caitlin tiptoes out of the room, stopping only to snag her robe—her pajamas not quite warm enough against the lingering chill of yesterday's rain.
By the time she's downstairs and in the kitchen, she's much less worried about waking Barry up with too much noise—if he makes it out of bed without her urging, it'll be his stomach that leads him, not his ears, so Caitlin turns on some music and starts making breakfast. Digging through the refrigerator and pantry, she pulls out all the ingredients to make his favorite: strawberry stuffed French toast. She'd snuck out to the grocery store during her lunch on Friday and hid the ingredients behind a wall of yogurt, determined to surprise him with his favorite breakfast and the secret she's been keeping: she's pregnant; they're going to have a baby.
Caitlin has known for about three weeks and had suspected for days before that, but she's been keeping the secret from Barry, excitement building, because she's wanted to tell him on Mother's Day. As long as she's known him (and for years before that), the second Sunday in May has been a hard day for Barry, filled with sad memories and loss. When she'd first begun to suspect she was pregnant, and then confirmed it, she'd immediately realized it was the perfect opportunity to give him a new, happy memory to associate with the day. It's been a long few weeks, she's been wanting to tell him at every turn, every time they've made love, every time they've kissed, every time he's smiled at her with that wide, amazed grin he gets—she's never been great at keeping secrets and keeping them from Barry is particularly excruciating but she knows it's going to be worth it.
Filled with happiness, she flips French toast and pours orange juice, mixes filling and slathers berries and strawberry sauce with whipping cream (giggling a little as she remembers they last time they'd had whipping cream in the fridge, though she also recalls having to wash all their sheets after that and resolves to be a little more careful today), before setting it all on a tray. Gazing over her handiwork and more than ready to spill her secret, Caitlin hoists the tray up and begins a slow, careful walk back up to their bedroom. She's just outside the door when she begins calling out, attempting to wake Barry with the sound of his name.
It fails, spectacularly. Rolling her eyes fondly, Caitlin sets the tray down on the nightstand, abandons her robe for the floor, and craws onto the bed to lean over her husband. It takes a long, slow kiss to snap those green eyes open, but he thinks quickly on his figurative feet, so it's not long before he's kissing back enthusiastically. "Good morning," they murmur simultaneously, both a little breathless and sidetracked—at least until Barry smells food.
She watches his eyes track sideways, laughing at the way they blow wide open, suddenly very awake, when they see the tray just a few feet away. "Is that stuffed French toast?" he asks, voice still rough with the (relatively) early hour. He's so adorably predictable, she just nods and swings off of him, settling against his side as he pulls the tray over both their laps. For a little while, they talk about their plans for the day and pick eagerly at breakfast, Barry offering her every other forkful until she's absolutely stuffed and he's finishing off the last two pieces of syrup and berry soaked bread.
It's only after breakfast is finished and their plans are set (Joe's for lunch, then taking Joey to the park while Iris and Eddie have an afternoon date), that Barry turns to Caitlin to press a grateful (slightly sticky) kiss to her temple. "Thanks for breakfast Cait, what's the special occasion?" Not that she needs one, but surprise breakfast in bed is usually reserved for special days.
"Well, it's mother's day," she starts, smiling beautifully at the way a puzzled expression spreads across his sleepy gaze, "and since it's the last one where you won't be doing something special for me, I thought I'd do something nice for you." It takes a minute for what she's saying to sink in, but when it does, Barry's moving like lightning, knocking the tray off his lap and scooping her into his arms, laughing happily and pressing eager kisses across her face when she confirms that yes, she does mean what he thinks she means.
(She ends up having to wash whipping cream off all their sheets again, but the way Barry smiles all day—and then totally accidentally spills the news to Joe, Iris and Eddie at lunch—is completely worth it).
Caitlin isn't sure if it's the giggles, the shout of 'Happy Momma's Day' or the knee in her kidney that wakes her up but when she opens her eyes to find Kella's peering brightly into them, a big smile stretched across her face, she knows it doesn't really matter. Instead, wincing only a little bit, she sits up and wraps her arms around her beaming little girl, tugging her into a hug that Kella returns fiercely. "Thanks peanut," she finally says, dropping a kiss against the (sticky) little dimple on her two-and-a-half-year-old cheek. Eventually Caitlin pulls away and Kella bounces into the space next to her, looking pointedly at the end of the bed where Barry is standing, wearing his own grin and holding a tray full of breakfast and haphazardly arranged flowers.
"Happy mother's day Cait," he greets fondly, sliding around and into the bed on Kella's other side. Reaching with impatient arms, their daughter guides the tray onto her lap before picking up a piece of toast and offering it eagerly to her mother.
"We made you breakfast momma," she explains, clearly excited for Caitlin to enjoy her part in the breakfast first. Unable to deny their daughter anything, Caitlin leans down to take a bite of the jelly-smeared toast right from her hand, which causes Kella to burst into a fresh fit of giggles. "It's for you momma, you keep it," she explains in that slightly impatient way that Caitlin constantly tries to deny she gets from her (no matter how many times Barry insists). Smiling, Caitlin does take the toast, eating it with an exaggerated hunger, claiming it's the best toast she's ever had. Kella beams satisfaction before helping herself to her own piece.
The three of them slowly devour the small mountain of toast, scrambled eggs and orange slices while Kella and Barry explain the day they have planned to celebrate. A day which consists of lunch with Grandpa Joe and Auntie Iris and Uncle Eddie and cousin Joey, then a visit to the park for ice cream and a whole afternoon of stories in the backyard. Caitlin smiles at the day obviously planned by their two year old, meeting Barry's gaze over her dark curls.
Once their food is gone, Barry and Kella take the tray away, insisting Caitlin relax for a little bit longer while they take care of the Sunday morning chores. Knowing it's useless to argue (not that she'd planned to) Caitlin snags her book off the nightstand and catches up on a few chapters, surfacing from the plot now and then to the sounds of laughter and music and the vacuum cleaner. She takes a moment to marvel at how lucky she is, only to be distracted when she suddenly notices the time on the clock. Sighing, she sticks her bookmark back and makes her way to the master bath—they need to be to Joe's in an hour and a half, which means it's time to get back to the real world.
She's halfway through her shower when she hears a familiar voice call out: "Want some company?"
Laughing, she tugs open the shower door and peers through the gathered steam at Barry, already stripped to his boxers, standing in the doorway with his trademark smirk. "Where's Kella?"
His grin only widens at her chosen answer—not even close to a no. "Picking out a dress for today and finishing up the card for your present—we've got time." Which is all it takes for her to slide the door open a little farther, welcoming him in. Barry's lost his boxers and closed the shower door behind him almost before she can blink, but he takes his time for the next few minutes, unraveling her carefully and showing his appreciation and love in his own way.
Sated and satisfied, they slow back down again and finish washing up just in time to hear a voice call out from the other end of the hallway. "Momma, help!"
Trading wet, towel-wrapped smiles, Barry and Caitlin shake their heads in unison. "Tights," Caitlin sighs knowingly, trading the towel for her robe and laughing when Barry darts forward to steal one more kiss.
"I love you," he sighs against her lips, ever the softhearted romantic.
"Love you too," and okay, so maybe he's turned her into one too, because she hedges her bets and leans in again, only to pull back when Kella calls out for help again, sounding a little more distressed (probably tangled up in trying to get her tights on by herself).
"Happy Mother's Day Cait," Barry chuckles.
And it is.
(Caitlin gets breakfast in bed that year, a morning off of chores and a picture book that Kella and Barry made together. Six weeks later, they get a belated Mother's Day gift: she's pregnant again.)
Caitlin wakes up the sound of something loud falling downstairs, jarred instantly alert with just enough time to notice Barry flashing right back under the covers. Blinking quickly, she raises a brow in question and is greeted by a wide grin. "It's alright, just the kids," he reassures, even though the words are not the least bit reassuring.
"Destroying the house?" She grumbles slightly, sitting up despite his attempts at calming her down. The warm laughter her comment inspires does a better job of soothing her too-quickly beating heart, as does the movement of his hands across her face.
"Making you breakfast," Barry explains, only laughing more when understanding lights those beautifully familiar brown eyes he loves so much. "Exactly, so why don't we try to go back to sleep until they come up to surprise you?" She can't argue with that logic, or the way he tugs her firmly against her side, dragging her down for a kiss that makes it easy to ignore the clank of pots and pans rattling ominously on the floor below.
.
"Cara, be careful!" Grouses fourteen-year-old Kella, sighing heavily as her little sister clanks a set of ceramic plates down against the tile countertop.
To her credit, Cara looks apologetic as she sets the cups down much more quietly. "Sorry," she whispers, the attempt unnecessary against all the other noise the three have made so far.
Caving, Kella heaves another exasperated sigh and shakes her head. "It's alright," because she knows her little sister isn't trying to ruin the surprise. "Can you help Ben get the toast ready?" She asks instead, pouring the last of the blueberry pancake batter onto the griddle.
Cara nods and skips over to where they've set Ben up, settled on the counter top in his pajamas, plopping bread into the toaster and piling a stack of perfectly golden toast onto a plate. "Ready to add jam Ben?" She asks, detouring at the refrigerator.
Grinning widely, both front teeth missing, he nods enthusiastically. "Get the strawberry Cara!" he automatically requests: it's his favorite. It's also the last jar of the jam they made last summer, but she figures today is as good a day as any to finish it, so Cara pulls it out and snags two knives from the drawer, tugging over a chair so they can work together. They make quick work of the gigantic pile of toast, though six-year-old Ben leaves almost as much jam on the counter as on the toast—they'll clean it up after breakfast.
"Toast is ready Kella!" Ben announces, much too loudly, when they finish. This time both girls shush him, which just leaves him giggling. Both sisters share an eye roll before Cara helps pull Ben down from the counter, wiping his sticky hands with the kitchen rag before he can rub them against anything else (they have enough cleaning to do without the help).
"Pancakes are finished." Kella is much more quiet then her siblings (pretty much always actually), as she surveys their handiwork. Not bad, considering they've been up for an hour finishing their plans. The breakfast tray is stacked high with toast and pancakes and plates and cups and cutlery. Next to it is a gallon of milk, a vase full of flowers and a neatly wrapped present they'd spent days arguing over. "Let's go surprise mom."
Cara carefully hands Ben the flowers before grabbing the milk and present, letting him lead the way while Kella follows with the tray of food. It's slow going up the stairs (pretty much the opposite of normal: all three of them barrel up and down the stairs so quickly and loudly that their mother worries they're going to inherit their father's speed after all) but eventually they make it. Over eager, Ben picks up the pace on the landing, bursting into their parent's room a few feet in front of his sisters and shouting out "Happy Momma's Day!" against the sounds of both girls grumbling because he didn't wait for them. They appear wearing identical scowls a moment later, though they both abandon them to shout "Happy Mother's Day!" as soon as they see that Caitlin and Barry are up and smiling.
All earlier scuffles forgotten, they bunch together on Caitlin's side of the bed to offer up their surprises. "We made breakfast," Ben explains as Kella sets the tray on the comforter. "I made the toast and picked the flowers," he adds proudly, then hastily adds, "Cara helped!" when she elbows him in the ribs.
"I made the vase in school," she says as Caitlin reaches for them and settles the new vase and bouquet of (adorably mismatched) garden flowers on her nightstand. "And Kella made pancakes." Caitlin has to laugh at the eager little sniff Cara gives (her appetitive almost rivals her father's), even as she sounds proud of her big sister's cooking abilities.
"We got you a present too mom," Kella finishes, nudging Cara to present the neatly wrapped box. She does with a flourish, beaming when their mother takes it with a hint of a tear in her eye, their father watching on proudly. It's the first year they'd insisted on doing everything themselves, and he's pretty choked up about how well they worked together (both proud and a little nostalgic that they're growing up and don't need them as much).
"You guys didn't have to get me a present, breakfast in bed together is already enough," Caitlin insists, but the chorus of "open it's" is immediate, so she does with a fond smile and a shake of her head. Beneath the pretty gold wrapping paper and carefully tied red bow is a nondescript, long, rectangular box. Brow furrowed with curiosity, Caitlin tugs off the top, only to gasp as what lies below: a little silver charm bracelet with three charms hanging off: a horse, a soccer ball and a dinosaur, each obviously chosen by her children. She nearly knocks over their breakfast in her haste to draw all three into a hug. "It's perfect, thank you," her words swallowed up by a line of happy tears.
"Momma?" Ben says, still caught up in her hug. "Can we eat breakfast now? I'm hungry!"
(It's definitely the best mother's day yet. They spend the morning curled up in bed after breakfast, watching a movie until it's time to clean up the kitchen and get ready for Sunday lunch at Grandpa Joe's and afterwards the girls take Ben to the park for a few hours, so Caitlin and Barry take advantage of the alone time. There are no six-week-later-surprises this time, which Barry teases her about for weeks.)
Family fluff all over the place! I really liked the idea of Caitlin using Mother's Day to tell Barry she was pregnant, then I thought about how funny it would be if she became a mother on mother's day, so I started going through my stories to see if that timeline would fit with what I have down already. It did, so I just went for it. In the last scene, Kella is 14, Cara is 11 and Ben is 6. Hopefully the scenes and kids actions make sense for their ages, I don't hang out with a lot of little kids (my cousins are all older now and my only nieces/nephews are dogs, so I did my best).
Based on what I've written for this 'verse, Kella's born mid-December, Cara in early February and obviously we know Ben is a St. Patrick's Day baby.
Anyhow, hope you guys all enjoyed it!
Take Care & Best Wishes,
A.O.R.
