A/N: The most recent(ish) DCTV promo has inspired me. Next chap will be inspired from it as well. :P
*Many thanks to my epic beta, sendtherain, for looking this over.
*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
Inspiration: DCTV promo featuring Barry listing everything he had for breakfast to Joe & Captain Singh, as well as interviews implying that Barry appears to be out of it when first emerging from the speed force and Iris's conflicted feelings about his return.
Iris stepped into the hall as she'd done time and again for the past six months. She'd gotten used to no presence before or beside or behind her, no warm breath against her neck or arm slipped around her waist or hand in hers. She'd gotten used to being alone and the sound of silence that echoed around her all night every night after she walked in the doorway. Barry had been gone for so long she had started to wonder if he'd even really existed, if they had lived together, if they had been together, if the gaping hole she tried to fill up day after day with the constant focus on keeping the city safe had really been caused by his absence from her life.
In those months, her heartache had turned to anger and bitterness and an emotionless drive to push forward, to harden herself, to forget what love and tenderness and compassion was – at least in scenarios that didn't involve the everyday innocent citizen of Central City.
And now here he was before her, completely unaware of the anger that still brewed inside her over him leaving her behind without a moment's notice, without even discussing it with her first. Maybe it had been the only way. Maybe the city would've suffered countless casualties if he'd delayed for even a second longer. But she still hated that he left, and she hated that she couldn't tell him she was mad at him for leaving – then, because he'd had to leave and she was trying desperately to hold onto him; now, because he'd just come back and she could already feel the softness she'd buried away starting to break through.
And, also, because…well, he was confused.
"Wow, we decorated fast," Barry said, the sound of his voice bringing her back to the present.
They'd walked down the hall, unlocked the door, and were walking into their home. There had been no whoosh! that would have brought Iris back too, but the effect was the same.
Not for the first time since his return from the speed force, Barry's comment made her pause. She turned and looked at him, a puzzled look on her face.
"You don't remember living here?" she worried aloud.
In her gut, she knew he did – or would in a few moments. It had been the same way when he first emerged. He remembered all of them, but actual memories were fragmented and slow to come to the surface. The timing of them all was inaccurate, which she knew was to be expected.
Still.
Barry stepped further into the loft and examined his surroundings, his eyes lighting up after a few seconds.
"I remember," he said softly.
"Yeah?" She asked, hope swelling inside her as it had before, when his form had appeared in front of her and she didn't know if he'd even remember her name.
Iris.
And then she'd lunged into his arms and cried into the kiss she thought she'd never feel again, and she knew she wasn't dreaming.
Hesitantly, she went to stand with him, taking his hands in her own so she could feel him again, that pale skin against her darker one. He seemed not to notice.
"I proposed to you over there," he said proudly, drawing her attention reluctantly to the windowsill to the left of him. She smiled softly, remembering.
Barry's gaze shifted abruptly to the center of the room, confusion coloring his voice again as he spoke.
"And there." His mouth opened and closed as he tried to connect the dots again and inevitably abandoned the effort. "I hope I didn't do both in the same day." He licked his lips, contemplating. "I wonder why…" and then the color drained from his face. "We broke up," he said, looking now towards the dining room table.
She tensed, the memory flooding over her again, only this time another accompanied it. Her hands wriggled a little in his grasp, suddenly damp and sweaty. He looked down and found the evidence of her second memory, her ringless finger. That memory belonged only to her.
She could feel the heat of his gaze and the weight of his sadness as he stared at her, waiting for her to meet his eyes. It felt like a millennia before she could summon the courage inside her and lift her heavy head. She'd overcome so many feats these past months at the helm of Team…Kid Flash? But this – her heart – was another matter entirely.
"Are we still broken up?" he asked softly.
She lost the ability to speak. She wanted to say no – no, no, no, no, no. But how could she when there was no ring on her finger and he remembered both proposals?
"It's been six months, Barry," she said, somehow summoning all her strength.
She felt the goosebumps prickling his skin and saw the shiver in his shoulders just before he released her hands. It wasn't meant to be cruel, and she knew that, but the loss of his heat nearly caused her to involuntarily break down right in front of him.
"Is there someone else?" he asked, and she wanted to scream.
He didn't remember in this particular moment. She had to remember that. But also, this was something he could genuinely not know. It baffled her, but maybe he had picked up on the anger she'd been trying to stomp down.
"Iris?"
The detachment in his voice made her want to cry, but the undercurrent of aching need pushed her to keep moving forward.
"Is that why you don't have your ring on? Before I left, did we—"
She silenced with a kiss, moaning softly when his initial surprise evolved into holding her closer, in responding to her lips moving against him.
"There's no one else," she breathed heavily against him, barely an inch between them. "God, Barry, there could never, ever be anyone else."
She felt the shift in atmosphere and knew he was going to ask why again – why was she without her ring, why wouldn't she answer if they had broken up or not. She didn't want to answer those questions. They would release the resentment she had buried the moment she saw him appear in the fields.
We didn't break up. You left me.
She didn't want to deal with that now. He was here and in her arms. Any struggles between them could be tackled tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that, because they had time to fight about normal people problems. They had time for everything.
She clamped her hands around the back of his neck and stood up on her tiptoes, closing the little distance there was between them. Maybe it was because she'd nearly forgotten, but he tasted amazing. And he wasn't asking questions. He was just responding to her, kissing the way she was, clutching, holding, gripping, and inevitably grinding against her the way she was him – only he intensified his movements by picking her up and pinning her to the wall.
"Barry," she gasped, but he was too busy kissing her neck, unbuttoning her shirt with one hand and holding her up with the other.
His nibbles across her collar bone were enough to make her cry out in pleasure. She clutched at his shoulders, seeking some form of control even though everything inside of her was telling her to let go.
"Let go, Iris," he said, his voice husky against her skin. Then he broke the heat for a single moment by being so Barry and asking, "Have we done this before?"
She laughed and groaned, taking the brief stilling of his aggressive kisses to pepper her own along his jawline.
"The wall or the sex?"
"The wall." He paused. "I really hope we've done the sex."
She laughed again as her fingers crept beneath his shirt.
"We've definitely done the sex."
"And the wall?"
"I can't remember."
His head reared back, shocked. "Really?"
She nodded. "It's been a long time since… I tried to forget…" she trailed off, not letting herself finish.
His brows furrowed, probably sensing what she was trying not to say. She wouldn't let that happen. Not tonight.
"Let it be the first time," she said, her fingers curling into his hair. She nuzzled her face against his before biting down on his bottom lip.
She reveled in the growl that came out of him in response.
"Let everything be the first."
"Irisss," he slurred and then clutched her tighter.
Her mouth closed over his in response, her tongue delving deep, tangling with his as her fingers wound through his brown locks and dragged down the back of his neck, then came around his front to run down his chest.
She tugged at his shirt, trying to yank it out of his waistband, but it was difficult because of their respective positions as well as the jacket he wore home.
Still, she figured it was better than having a leather suit in the way. That would have been even more frustrating – although not impossible – to get off.
"Take your jacket off," she breathed heatedly into his mouth.
"I'd have to set you down to—"
"And your shirt and your pants and your underw—" she gasped, "—underwear."
His hands squeezed her thighs as he kissed his way down her chest, each kiss as sweetly soft and lingering as the next. There was a heat to them though that set her on fire.
"You're hot for me, aren't you?"
She trembled as the words tumbled past his lips. The understatement of the century, she thought. She could hardly stand how close his erection was to her core but with still so many clothes in the way and her higher position preventing access.
"I-I thought you were confused," she managed.
"I remember everything at once," he murmured against her skin. "Sometimes I forget things, but they bounce back. It's a mix of memories that haven't arranged themselves yet, so that part is confusing."
"So…" she gulped. "Then how come? It's been so long… I can hardly—"
He smirked against her neck, and she lost her voice completely.
"Muscle memory," he said simply, his voice still husky with desire. "My mind is fuzzy, but my hands…" He slid his hands up slowly to grasp her ass cheeks and squeeze, eliciting another gasp and then groan from her. "My body remembers everything," he breathed hotly against her.
She arched herself against him, her only weapon left the moisture soaking the crotch of her pants. She hoped it would transfer to his shirt somewhat. He couldn't possibly miss how aroused she was.
He groaned and pressed her back against the hall, his forehead pressed to hers, his breathing heavy.
"You want me," he said roughly. "You want me as badly as I want you, as I've wanted you for… for an eternity."
She slid her fingers beneath the collar of his jacket and pushed it back as much as she could without him dropping his arms to finish the job.
"Barry," she purred in his ear.
The shivers erupted all over his body, turned into vibrations, and before she knew it she was aligned with him, still pressed to the wall but now she was naked. They both were.
And then he was pushing into her, and she held on tighter. He was so hard, and he went so deep. The pressure felt amazing. The pleasure almost bordered on pain. When he reached the hilt, she cried out. Moisture wet her eyelashes, and when she pressed her face to his, she knew he felt it because he stilled in her arms.
"Iris?" he asked, concerned. "Are you…Are you crying?" He pulled his head back to look at her, keeping his self-control in check.
"I'm fine." She nodded and then smiled at him. "You didn't hurt me. I'm ready for this." She brushed his hair back with her fingers. "More than ready. It just feels like…"
"Lifetimes," he finished, understanding.
"Yeah," she whispered, her eyes slowly traveling to his lips, his chest; her mind dwelling on the strength of his arms and the hardness of his dick inside her. She licked her lips and dug her feet into his back.
Without a word, Barry kissed her sweetly, then retreated his length a few inches and moved in slowly again. He repeated the motion once, twice, three times. Then he extended the length a little further and thrust back into her harder. It felt like hardly seconds later that he was pounding into her so fast she was afraid her head would bang against the wall if his hand wasn't cushioning it as his kisses drew her nearer.
And then he came, emptied out inside her. No precautions this time. No condoms, no birth control. They'd worry about the possible repercussions later.
After a while, he slowly set her down. Her legs were trembling so badly, she would've fallen if he hadn't caught her.
"I'm okay," she said before he could ask. "But Barry?" She looked up at him, his warm eyes drowning her, making her heart swell, feel a happiness and pleasure she never thought she'd feel again.
It was insane to think about, but in hindsight she knew she'd never been more certain and would never regret the word that tumbled past her lips next.
"Again."
Barry blinked, startled, but his shock was momentary, and given all her reassurances, he didn't need to ask again. He kissed her once, a gentle, lingering kiss promising love and whatever else it was she wished.
Then he lifted her up in his arms, sped them upstairs to their pristinely made bed, pulled back the blanket, deposited her on the long ago-abandoned mattress, and made love to her for hours into the night. He filled her time and again, and not once did she let him part from her.
"I need to know I'm not dreaming," she said, eyes closed and face pressed to his shoulder. "I need to feel you pressed to every inch of me, inside me, around me." She swallowed hard. "Please."
"Okay," he said, and one-handedly pulled the covers over both of them, shifting only slightly to achieve a more comfortable position on his back.
Iris quickly scrambled to press herself to him. Her hand smoothed over his whole upper body, mesmerized by the feel of his skin, memorizing every inch of him in a way she hadn't been able to the night he left.
This had to be real. It was too shattering in its intensity not to be.
"I love you," she whispered when no sound but their slowed-down breathing could be heard between them. She felt him press his lips to her forehead and his fingers tangle in her hair.
She needed to hear the words badly though, even though she knew they were true, even though he'd said them earlier when he first returned. Although it'd been only seconds, she nearly prodded him to get him to respond. So fierce was her ache for it.
And then he said it and she relaxed and let the drowsiness she'd held at bay slowly overtake her.
"More than life itself, Iris West," he whispered softly. "I love you." Another kiss to her forehead. "I love you. I love you."
…
When Iris woke up the next morning, Barry was still asleep – but he was beside her. She had to physically stop herself from sitting up immediately, shocked to be in a bed – their bed – with her Barry sleeping beside her. The rise and fall of his chest beneath hers as she lay half on top of him was a surprise. Once she accepted the reality of it though, she felt this overwhelming peace wash over her.
It hadn't been a dream.
She wanted to cry she was so relieved. Her limbs tangled with his, his exhales blowing little hairs across her forehead, the hard strength in his arms, the enduring love in him, the passion that never managed to take her breath away - t was all back, hers for the taking. She wanted to lay in bed forever to treasure that.
She wanted to kiss and nuzzle and tell him how much she loves him and hear it in return. She didn't want to do anything but stay here with him, even if just for a day, and revel in the fact that he was really back and that maybe those save-the-date cards could still be salvaged.
But then she remembered how her dad had guaranteed Barry still had a job at the precinct and how she had a job herself, and that if Barry woke up as confused as he'd been when she brought him home, he'd still need time to acclimate to even being the Flash again, despite the nifty suit he'd returned to them in.
And then there were her feelings – the ones that raged about how dare he have left her, the right decision be damned.
Carefully, she extracted herself from his embrace, making sure not to wake him in the process as she slid off the bed and quickly searched the room for a shirt to put over her tiny frame. She'd buried all his clothes in the closet at the end of the hall, but his shirt from last night lay on the floor. The shirt smelled so much like Barry – more so than his clothes he'd left behind months ago – that she couldn't help but breathe in the scent both before and after she'd popped her head through the collar.
She sighed contentedly.
"Barry," she murmured into the shirt.
Barry tossed a bit on the bed in response, an almost silent mumble and a hand reaching across the bed searching for her. Her initial plan to go downstairs and make him breakfast would clearly have to wait. He wasn't awake, but he wasn't fully asleep anymore either, and truth be told, she wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and sleep a little while longer in his arms.
…
"Good morning," she chirped when he came down the stairs roughly an hour later.
She'd manage to sneak away the moment she felt him settle into a deep sleep. She'd been so mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest that she hadn't been able to fall asleep herself, and in the end it worked out for her purpose of making him breakfast.
"Morning," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and then dragging it over his face, halting where he likely felt stubble.
"Need to shave?" she asked, peeking behind the corner where she stood at the counter.
"Yeah." His hand traveled down his neck, and he grimaced. "More than I thought."
"Well, you were in there six months. I'm surprised you didn't come out with a full beard."
He frowned as she approached him, a plate of pancakes and sausage in her hands.
"Where was I?" he asked.
She blinked. Her heart crushing in on itself a little.
Was he forgetting too now instead of just slowly remembering?
"The speed force…" she said slowly. "You were off saving the world from impending doom." Her tone was dramatic, but the light in her eyes was missing. "You don't remember?" She quirked her head to the side.
"I do. I think I do at least. It just didn't feel like…a force of speed. More like…watching my life flash before my eyes over and over for an eternity."
She forced a smile, guilt arcing through her as she thought about how that must've been for him.
"What's this?" he asked, his eyes falling to the plate in her hands.
"Oh. Uh…" She blinked, forcing herself out of the small trance. "Breakfast," she grinned.
"You made this for me?" His smile mirrored her own.
"Yep. There's juice and fruit on the table too." She gestured towards the windows.
Barry followed her gaze. "And cereal," he added, then looked back at her, grinning.
She shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I thought I'd offer a variety."
For a moment longer than was necessary, they just stood and stared at each other, so caught up in the overwhelming love evident in their eyes.
"This feels familiar," he said slowly, that Flash smirk of his making her weak in the knees.
"I'm glad. You uh, did something similar for me for Valentine's Day."
The did I? was on his tongue, but a beat later he remembered.
"I did." He smiled cheekily. "Except I also made French toast and waffles and your favorite dark roast."
"Among other things," she said, her eyes darkening. She saw the shift in his own eyes too and knew there needed to be no words between them.
"We didn't get to the food," he said, taking a step towards her, placing his hands on the plate as if to take it, but not moving, pressing his fingers along hers instead.
Iris licked her lips, wondering how it was so easy for him to light the fire inside her.
"We got to it," she said. "It was just cold."
His sexy laugh sent chills racing up and down her spine. He leaned down and brushed her lips, groaning when she slipped her tongue inside his mouth.
"Barry," she whispered breathlessly.
"Yeah?"
"You have work today, I have work today, and I spent a lot of time making it, so…"
He pulled back, smiled lazily at her, and took the plate from her hands.
"Breakfast usually is better hot," he allowed.
She smiled tremulously. "Yes, it is."
"You'll eat with me?"
Her heart melted. "Sure, I'll eat with you."
She went to turn and get her own plate, but one of Barry's hands wrapped around her arm and halted her exit.
"Iris."
Barely daring to breathe, she looked up at him.
"Yes, Barry?"
"After?"
His eyes were molten lava and melting her insides. How was she still standing up?
She swallowed hard.
"After. You have work. We both have work."
He released her arm and slid his hand beneath her shirt – his shirt. He lowered his lips to her ear while simultaneously inducing more shivers from her by tracing the curve up the center of her back.
"I'm pretty sure I can be quick."
Her eyes were unfocused when he pulled back at first. He didn't ask her again, didn't tease with anything but his eyes. He just went straight for the table, taking a solid bite out of every entrée and side she'd prepared for him. Some of them got two bites.
But that was all the progress he made before she climbed onto his lap at the dining room table and kissed him and fucked him and made him forget all about hot breakfast food.
