a red ribbon 'round my heart, a white band 'round my finger

A red ribbon breaks her white dress in two and her hair tumbles down in the same cascade of curls she wears almost every day. Somewhere beneath her fluttering hemline are two shoes in that same precise shade of red, so familiar but for such a different reason. A pendant rests upon her sternum, not quite hidden by the cut of her dress: a ruby on a white gold chain trailing over her skin to match the ring about her left fourth finger.

She's a absolute vision, an image of a lifetime he would have never expected he'd get to have and she's absolutely always this beautiful but today it catches him more by surprise than it usually does: he chokes on an inhale when the doors part and he sees her for the first time in this new way. There's a smile playing at the edge of her mouth, quiet but warm and entirely for him and he lets that ground him, breathe air into his failing lungs, as he catches her eyes and waits. (He's never so acutely wished that someone else had his Flash powers as he does waiting for her to make what never seemed like this long a walk down this aisle before, his very soul itching for the nearness that seems so slow to come right now).

He barely hears the vows as they're read, his mind so lost in her and them and their story to here and from here, but it hardly matters. He's heard these words before, a number of times throughout his life and he's aware enough to speak when he needs to. (They choose traditional vows because nothing else in their lives is traditional and it's one less thing to worry about, one less check on a list they don't really need to know that this is the forever kind of promise). So he just murmurs along, knows she's laughing at his distraction, and can't help but feel dumbfounded by how damn lucky he is. Despite everything in his life that has gone wrong, somehow he knows that he got this one thing right and soon it will be his (and hers) forever.

It seems like it's barely a moment later and he's slipping a second ring on to her finger, a white gold band to match the one already there and then they're trading roles: a heavy, warm kind of permanence wrapping around his heart as her soft fingers guide his own wedding band home. There's more words that follow and then a kiss, one hand holding her face gently in his grasp, the other smooth against the satin tails of red at her waist. When their lashes flutter open, in sync as always, the smiles on their faces are bashful in a way they haven't been since that first kiss in the lab, when fear had forced the stuttering confessions that only Felicity had previously managed to pry loose.

Funny how things change, he can't help but think, as they turn and are presented as Mr. Barry and Mrs. Caitlin Allen (she drops the doctor for the day, even though he'd said she didn't need to. She'd laughed that musical trill of hers and said it was a mouthful and too cruel to the priest). No one shouts louder than their ring bearer and flower girl (his godson Joe Thawne and her goddaughter Abigail Queen) which is only more proof at how wonderfully perfectly life works out when you least expect it to. Beaming, fingers woven together, they watch as their small wedding party leads them out (both children scooped up by their mothers, Cisco and Eddie following along in their suits) and then they're surrounded by friends and family, hugging and shaking hands and both secretly waiting for the chance to just breathe in this new life together.

They make it through the reception easily enough, constantly distracted by ringing bell-induced kisses, white wine and good food, stories and laughter, dances and well wishes. Honestly, he won't remember many of the details later, save for the feel of her hand in his, a thumb against the pulse of her wrist, the way she laughs when he pulls off the garter and how it feels to hear their names linked together, like two breaths of air finally becoming one.

(Thank god for pictures, he thinks absently, when someone catches his absent attention for a moment, and he responds without even knowing who he's talking to. He'll need them to fill in all the details not intricately tied to the mesmerizing form of his new wife.)

By the time the party quiets down and the last of the guests depart, leaving only their little extended family of superheroes, it's well after one and they're both exhausted. Caitlin starts to help collect centerpieces but Felicity just waves them off, insisting they get some rest (all the while wearing a smirk that suggests she believes they'll be getting anything but).

Caitlin gives a few token protests before she gives up, turning to smile at Barry with that same look that has distracted him all day. He doesn't even need to ask, just holds out his arm and turns to lead the way to their room, their footsteps heavy and unhurried across the hotel carpet.

It takes a little longer than it otherwise would to cross to the far corner of the hotel but they make it back to the room eventually. Barry digs around the pocket of his dress pants, eventually producing the room key. Like he usually does, he opens the door and holds it for Caitlin, only to throw out an arm when she steps through and gently guide her back out.

Brown eyes bewildered, brow quirked with confusion, Caitlin turns to her new husband (and god, how good it feels to say those words). "What is it?"

"I know it's not our place, but we won't be home for a week yet," he begins, smiling tiredly down at her. Without another word, he moves in and catches her up under the legs and behind the back. Carrying her in his arms, the position so very famialir, with one foot propping the door open, he leans his forehead against hers. "So I'm going to carry my wife across this threshold for now, if that's okay?"

It's old fashioned, and he worries maybe too much so, but then Caitlin's giggling laugh reassures his faint worry a moment later. She stretches up to press her lips to his. "Oh Mr. Allen, you're such a softie."

Smiling, shaking his head fondly, he replies, "only for you Mrs. Allen," and then he steps in and moves straight for the bed, easing her into it: wedding dress, high heels and all. In a flash, he's removed the heels and positioned himself above her, leaning down for a far more satisfying kiss then the last, the kind he's been aching to give her all day while being assaulted by ringing bells. His fingers caress over the red ribbon at her waist, untying it slowly as Caitlin's fingers come up to rake through his hair. He pauses in his efforts to place a lingering kiss just below her ear. "God I love you," he whispers, a staggering mix awe and conviction and disbelief seeping into the syllables, coloring them with a level of adoration that heavies her heart with tenderness.

Caitlin echoes his words (and all the sentiments behind them) before dragging his lips back up to hers, her fingers sluggishly pulling at his coat. They fumble around for a few minutes until finally they've divested themselves of their wedding clothes.

(But between all the kissing and undressing, the whole day that has lead up to the kissing and undressing catches up to them shortly thereafter. They fall asleep in nothing but their wedding rings, tangled in each other and wake up to celebrate properly in the late hours of the morning. They laugh about it immediately but can't imagine a more perfect start to their forever.)

A Snowbarry wedding scene. The first part, with all the red reference, came to mind ages ago but the rest took a little time to flesh out. This focuses mostly on them and their thoughts, but I'd eventually like to expand to include others into the storyline, so hopefully that will show up one of these days.

Feedback appreciated, as always, and suggestions for improvement are always most welcome!

Thanks for reading & for all the feedback everyone.

Best Wishes & Take Care,

A.O.R.