Chapter One: Baby Talk
It could be the fact that she had had sex with only two men, but sex with Barry was so damn good. It could be that she loved him so much and that she loved his touch so much was because he loved her so much. But whatever it was, it made her smile at work: 'So Iris, I see you getting some at home.' Iris wanted to say 'and then some,' but decided not to gloat in her smiles to Linda Park, her work friend, as she looked up from her computer, head tilted like, 'Girl, you know it's true.'
"How about your investigation? How's it coming along with rich folks' problems? Who's stealing the kids' money?"
"Shhh," Iris said, placing a discreet finger on her lips. "That is my free-lance gig, I can't take you anywhere."
Linda giggled. "Okay. I know you like that bougie lady at the hospital, so keep your investigation on the down low, keep your big story out of the Picture News. We won't mind."
Iris knew Linda was teasing, but for some reason Linda's comment bothered her. It was a substantive story. She was writing for herself and putting time in on her meatier story for her own blog, Central City Citizen. But to be fair to her, it was on her own time. After all, it was Hortense Hayworth who asked her to look into the matter, and not assigned by the paper. Iris was also worried, because things come in pairs, and since she had been truly happy living with Barry, she almost dreaded what bad thing would come.
At lunch time, Keystone Police Department needed Barry's forensics expertise, so Iris and Linda grabbed a burger and fries at Big Belly Burger, and Iris drove them in her brand new, customized, all-electric Lincoln Navigator to the nursery school's picnic table in the back to eat.
Linda said, "I need to find someone like Barry Allen, someone who'll buy me a big ass car just because I asked for it."
Iris laughed because it was kind of true. She and Barry went on the weekends looking for her "truck," as Barry would say, but it was fun riding around in cars with Barry because she very rarely did, and he knew without her saying anything that she was measuring babyseat space, toddler legs, bags of diapers, satchels of treats to quiet the fretful, hands-on books to entertain, and she knew he knew. That's why every now and again at the dealers' showrooms, she would just out of the blue kiss him on his cheek, an outpouring of her acknowledgement of how sweet he was, what an attentive husband he was, and how he was going to be a good dad, and he acknowledged her kisses with a humble smile as he reached for her hand and they walked through car dealerships and showrooms as if they were on a date.
Now the little kids were just running out for recess with three agile teachers with swift feet and gentle but authoritative finger-pointing commands alongside them.
The noon of the day was sunny and cloudless. Iris looked up into the sky to enjoy the hour.
"I guess I feel special, Linda said. "Me driving in your new S.U.V. and you having lunch with me today instead of with Barry."
Iris laughed. "Well, he's at Keystone PD. They need his brains, and I have been hogging his time." Iris wanted to keep her mind on what Linda was saying. She was a great colleague, could be even a friend if they worked on it, but at the moment, the little ones distracted her. Linda noticed. "Yeah, kids are cute, but if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, get a dog. But no, they're just like kids. Get goldfish. They won't cost you a fortune, then break your heart or poop on your carpet."
Well, she and Barry had not been taking precautions at all for a month and her pee sticks gave off the wrong color. She wasn't pregnant. But she had two more days to go to end the month and declare victory, to announce that she was carrying Barry's little one. And husband and wife were into their assignment, into that hot and heavy, sexy but really lovely and fun month, all of her good feelings with her man, the shared orgasms, the shared quiet space of their bedroom, their sated entangled arms and legs, a single cover thrown over the satisfying acts by the time sleep was about to take them, seemed new, as if they were doing this for the first time. And they were, trying to make a baby for the first time.
"How can you tell?" Iris asked, feeling vulnerable.
"That you want to have kids? I guessed. It's like when you bought your car. I'll bet you never saw so many Navigators on the road like yours until you bought one. It's the same with how you look at kids. You look at them all the time now, especially the ones who could be yours and Barry's. So I'm thinking, it's the reason for this big S.U.V., even though for the life of me I can't think of an electric vehicle charging station in Central City to keep this big boy powered."
"There are a few around," Iris said, but she was thinking of Star Labs.
"So, where are they? Any close to where you and Barry live?"
Iris didn't answer Linda's question, but offered, "Barry will keep it powered. Don't worry about my truck, as he would call it."
"Yeah," Linda said with a seeming non-sequitur, "And we both know Barry would make a great father."
"Yeah, Linda, he certainly would. He's so kind and gentle."
The truth is, it had been two days shy of four weeks and she was as regular as Barry's love. That's how sure she was, that she would pee on a stick, declare herself pregnant, and celebrate with the father-to-be. On that morning, she told Barry as he set up on his side of the bed and as he felt her arm snake around him, "just one more day—actually in a few hours," and he turned his head to meet her happy smile and her bright eyes. Only, when she came out of the bath room after that morning, ready for work, she was quiet and she looked a little down, and he knew her so well. How glad she was that he would be with her for decades to come. He said, "Your period showed up."
She said, "Yes, it's lighter than usual. But it's here. Sorry, Barry, I'm not pregnant," she said, sounding as if she had done something wrong or mixed their baby-making ingredients in the wrong order. He put his hand at her face, gently brought his fingers over her cheek. He said, "Don't be sorry, Iris. The good news is, we can keep trying."
And as soon as her cycle was over, they did. Iris discovered how much she really loved Barry, even without a sheath. When he entered her with only his love, his sex, and his naked erection, his familiar thrusting heightened her senses, his grinding hips brought out a sweet wetness that pulled her hips into the art of the grind with his, of his deep penetration with his velvet naked thrusts, wet from her, that moved in and out of her was intensified, she then wrapping her legs around his taut hips, her hands finding and owning his back, grabbing and taking his sides, running her hands up and down them, running her hands up his back, to the nape of his neck, through his hair, compelled to grab a handful, but gently, a precision ritual grab when he got her heated that got him moaning, mouth searching for her breasts, kissing her breasts, his tongue circling Iris's dark hard nipples, taking them into his mouth, his face searching to bury into her breasts, mouth traveling to her neck, then pulling her where she seeks her glory, in his shoulders, broad and glistening as her mouth left her own kisses there for him.
And their love-making had a foundational dance but with delicious varying details that kept enjoyment for each other heightened, like Iris using various angles and pressing the outside of his thighs with her inner thighs and legs, her ass centering under him, thrusting up to meet his thrusting energy into her, to keep him moaning, keep his mouth wanting her face, her lips, her neck, the hollow of her throat, anywhere his head fell, he kissed her. Her legs enticed him at spread eagle, a vulnerable lying under him and giving herself to him, then a hitching up his lust when she wrapped her legs around his waist, then her legs sought out his to wrap around his ass, pressing his cheeks into her. It was the angle that Barry caught her. His naked and slippery hard penis at his newfound angle made her legs widen in a surrender, a reveling in Barry's long body over her and moving in her. She felt hot and happy, kissing him wherever her mouth landed on him, and when the intent of his body overcame her, she would call out his name softly, pleading, pleasing, just in a low melody of, "Barry, I love you… I love you, Barry …." part of her foundational ritual, until they both could no longer hold it in the play, he waiting for her head to roll against him, into his shoulder, sometimes for that little breathless moan, and for her lips to part, as if she couldn't believe the amazing thing she was experiencing, signaling a giving up to him, her coming, which made his body give in to her, give in to her mouth, her kisses, her legs, her hands, and he always finding the back of Iris, coming with his deep and strong staccato thrusts.
After it's all over, they just lay in each other's arms and listen to and enjoy the descending breathing of how they physically love each other. Recently, he took his time before he pulled out, Iris reluctant to unwrap her legs from around the man's waist or his ass. They both knew what she wanted, to get pregnant, so he would let her legs stay where they were as she envisioned his babies swimming up into her, as far as they could go, to take hold of a life that they would love, that they would share, that they would raise, so he stayed in her for as long as she wanted. And she knew he wasn't humoring her; he was loving her. He would do anything for her, even make a baby with her, after two days shy of eight months of marriage.
That last time, she woke up in the middle of the night, and looked around their room. It was a big bedroom and she wanted her baby close to her and Barry in the beginning. "A crib will fit nicely in here," she said aloud without realizing it. She felt Barry stir, his arms bringing her down beside him, holding her in a firm reassuring caress, she feeling his lips press against her temple. He whispered to her in their quieted bedroom, "Don't worry, Iris. Don't you worry about a thing."
But the next day, it was on her mind. She was having babies on the brain. "Maybe I should go to yoga class," she said to herself, pulling up research on her computer screen. Linda's head popped around the door. "Yoga?" Then she came all the way in smiling. "Getting the body in shape for the… you know…"
"Baby?" Linda, you can say it. "Yes, I want to have a baby and yes, it's crazy because Barry and I just got married, if you step back and look at everything. Technically, we're still newlyweds. As a matter of fact, we're still getting wedding presents."
"Wedding presents, and you two didn't invite anybody to your big day."
"We know, we just wanted to hang out just with each other."
"You mean because of your fake wedding with that detective?"
Iris twisted her mouth. "It wasn't fake, but yes. We were just feeling lucky that we had… escaped something awful, and we just wanted to get married."
"And now you just want to have a baby."
Barry was back at Central City so he and Iris had a quick lunch in his lab that afternoon. She came in with a bag full of hot tacos from the taco truck. She sat down smiling, handing over to Barry their lunch. He pulled everything out. She bought eight tacos, six for Barry, two for her. "Thanks," Barry said. "I wondered what you were going to bring me for lunch today. You know you don't have to do this everyday, Iris."
"I don't do it everyday. But I want to when I can. Plus, you cook dinner sometimes. And I can easily take advantage of you. You're such a pushover."
"I am, huh."
"Yeah, but just with me." She spread out napkins for the tacos. "And I'm sorry, Barry, because I know I've been worrying you."
"I just don't want you to worry," he said.
"Plus, your dad is here, and he seems fine," Iris quickly added. "And so is his girlfriend. I think she's lovely, Barry."
"I think she is too. I just…." And he put down his taco. "It's just I want him to make sure…."
"Don't worry about him. Hey, you know what you can do? Take him to see Jim Hayworth—if he wants to, that is."
"I'll ask Jim and I'll ask my dad." Barry picked up his taco, took a bite, but Iris could tell he was thinking. She said, "Maybe he can reconnect to some of his old life."
Barry said, "Yeah, maybe. Do you still have that picture?"
"It's in our family album."
Barry finished chewing, swallowed, and said, "We have a family album?"
"I'm starting one. You can show Henry the picture. Maybe bring a smile to his lips."
"Thanks, Iris," Barry said.
"Hey, I'm grateful. You saved me a taco." But she reached out for his hand, and he gave it to her. "I like you better than tacos," he said.
…
That evening, a call from Cisco and then Barry's lightning whooshed him out of their home and away from their dinner table. Iris turned on the television for the news about the bank robbing meta-human. She sat silently, her attention rerouted to News 57. There was nothing. She picked up her phone and called Caitlin. She was relieved that Caitlin said not to worry. The meta-human had locked himself in the safe and couldn't get out, so brains was not his meta-power. She thanked Caitlin for easing her worries about the Flash. After all, the Flash was Barry Allen and he was her husband. "My love," she said aloud. "He is the father... will be the father of my children."
She got up and commenced to take her and Barry's uneaten dinner to the counter, covered both plates and almost pulled out a bottle of wine, but caught herself. No wine for a woman who wanted a baby the way she did. On second thought, she took her plate back to the table and ate the rest of her meal. She had to stay healthy, even when Flash took Barry out of the loft. She picked up her phone and hit the app of the store she had been looking through recently. She smiled at that sturdy looking car seat. It was a cutey… for her cutey. She had actually browsed through a few stores, so even when she left the app, or used her computer for other things, baby diapers, onesies, baby blankets, and that big wonderful crib all followed her on all of her other pages, other websites. She said aloud, "It's just been six weeks since we've been trying." She hadn't used a home test in two weeks. And she had two weeks to go until her period showed up and spoiled the fun, because she and Barry had been having so much fun doing it without protection or worries about her getting pregnant. Now she worried that she may not get pregnant. "But Barry and I are healthy," she said aloud. "And Barry deserves kids and Henry deserves grandkids. And so does my dad." She decided that she was going to put it out of her mind, "at least for two weeks." She looked up, and there was Barry, aka the Flash, on News 57 with the meta-human in meta-cuffs. "Don't hurt him," she said, not of the meta-human, but of the Flash. "Don't hurt Barry. Please. We have a family to make."
Chapter 2: Family Man
Barry had to admit to himself, Iris had him thinking about babies. When was the last time he had held one? Had he ever goo-gooed with one? He couldn't remember ever picking up a kid and tousling up the kid's hair. He couldn't recall playing a game with a baby or reading a book to one. He was amazed there had been no children in his life.
The only time it seems when he caught a kid looking at him, especially for answers, or for comfort, or for shielding from how ugly the world can get, he was in their house picking up a tarp to examine his or her mother or father's body. The kid would invariably be taken away but sometimes, Barry stopped what he was doing to actually register the child's existence. See the fear in his eyes, or the confusion around the fact that his house probably was never going to be his again. He tried not to project on the child a miserable, sad, existence waiting, because chances are, there were no Iris friend and Joe West foster dad waiting.
Sometimes he had to get out of the house for air, so he would not think about who the body was, how the body lived, and how many children would be sad and unhappy because of the poor lost soul.
Come to think of it he did play basketball once with this teen and he depended on a fellow CSI for back up, and his colleague did what he could, but everybody targeted him on the basketball court, because he looked like he could play ball, and the only thing that saved him and helped him put a few balls in the basket was he was good on his feet. He had good brain-feet coordination. In a flash, the rest of his body moved where his feet wanted him to go, his body instinctively moving to where he needed to be, and since his sneakers were his favorite shoe, whenever he was in that neighborhood some of the kids would egg on the sneaker-wearing CSI, when he got out of the forensic vehicle with his forensic kit, headed to the unfortunate scene of some crime, some misfortune that would inevitably render a child homeless, loveless, hungry for connection and play—for a game of pickup basketball—"Yo, String Bean! How about that game?" As for these particular kids, he never admitted how proud he was that they asked him to play a second time. Usually, Barry feigned work he had to get to, but sometimes he wanted to, even when he did have a body to examine and a cause of death to determine.
But now it got closer—the yearning to hold his and Iris's baby, because he remembered that time when Iris babysat a little girl, a toddler actually. He was surprised when he walked through the door after school. Iris said, "Hi, Bear," all smiling and warm, and said, "I've got to babysit. Sorry, Barry. We can't have our movie night."
Barry didn't know if he was disappointed that he couldn't sit beside Iris that evening or not, as she played a peek-a-boo game with the child. He felt some kind of way—not angry, maybe a little disappointed, but a new feeling, especially watching Iris with her gentle smile and hands of 'peek a boo, I see you.' Then the toddler repeated Iris's words and actions, then little hands came away from her face, then giggling. He went upstairs to do his homework. When he came back down, he peeped into the living room to see the child falling asleep by Iris's side. Iris was reading from a children's book, only stopping every now and again to show the little girl the pictures. Barry remembered just watching Iris then, and not the child, but maybe Iris with the child, and for a reason that he could only understand now, he wanted to kiss Iris, and it had nothing to do with his crush, or how he loved her or how he wanted her under his covers with him. He remembered being that teen, and marveling at how he could love Iris in other ways.
Just recently, there was the time he came to pick up Iris from the Hospital after her volunteer work. Through the door's glass window, they spotted each other, and Iris began to say goodbye to the children, to gather up her things, to put on her coat; the warm goodbyes the children gave his wife warmed his heart.
Okay, there were kids in his life. Once upon a time he and Iris were kids. As kids they went bowling. The noise of the bowling alley, the smell of popcorn, nachos, pizza, hot dogs, the thundering sound of bowling balls rolling down the alleys in their strategic slants and angles was the best for teen Barry and Iris. They ganged up on Joe every time, even when he tried to bribe them with extra hot dogs and nachos. Going bowling was one of the West's best family outings. It's when lines were blurred and Barry felt more West than Allen and during those times, it was all right to, he was happy to, seeing the joy on his foster dad's face. It was a portent, but most of the time he felt like Henry Allen's kid.
"So, you and Iris were at the movies last night?" Henry had asked him, his father talking with him on an analog phone as they talked with each other through glass.
"Yes, but she was already there, with Eddie Thawne. I came in with Becky."
"The detective that helped her when you were in your coma?"
"Helped her?" Barry laughed bitterly. "Okay."
"That's how Iris saw it, and that's how Joe sees it, or he would have given her council against him."
"Dad, Joe knows how we both feel about each other."
"But Iris is his child, and you have not let her know how you feel about her."
"I told her that I loved her."
"… and in all these years, you've had these euphemisms for her to guess how you feel."
Barry said, "I love her, Dad. I love her."
"Say it to her.
"I did."
"Make her believe you. Make Joe believe you, then he'll protect her and council against Thawne. After all, he sees her as his child. He wants what's best for her first."
"His baby girl," Barry said, rubbing his hand over his face, fighting tears, but they stood in his eyes anyway, as they usually did when he visited his dad at Iron Heights. It was the helplessness. To bring his other helpless feeling with him, the fear that Iris may not love him, was more than he could bear. At the end of that visit, as he was about to leave, he said, "Remember when, after you read me a story, or we talked about the meaning of life," and they both laughed quietly in their emotions, both holding back tears because indeed they both remembered discussions like that. Barry said, "… and when you use to tousle my hair and give me a hug and say, 'Good night, Slugger?'
"I do remember that," his father said.
"God, I wish you could do that to me now."
That next week, Eobard Thawne propositioned Barry, and Barry sent him to the future, "After all, I have a family," Thawne said to Barry without irony. That next day, Barry went to Iron Heights with Joe and an irrefutable flash-drive full of a confession, and his dad was released. He remembered his dad packing up and leaving Central City almost immediately. He and his dad had talked on the phone from Washington State to Central City ever since. Then Barry got all of his dad's legal documents through special courier, his will, the deed to his cabin, access to all of his accounts, his safety deposit box keys. When Barry called to ask, "What is this? What do you plan to do?"
"Not kill myself, let me just get that out of the way. Take my estate while I'm alive. You're my only child. My son. You're my legacy. Take it and do with it as you like." And it made Barry angry when he checked out all of his dad's assets, and compared them to Eobard Thawne's, who had also turned over his estate to Barry, worth a whole lot more than his dad's; but actually, Thawne's estate meant nothing to Barry. And Thawne had once called Barry his son. "In a way you are, Barry. The particle accelerator explosion was my doing, as you know now. You are my idea and my creation. You are my son."
"The Flash," Barry said. "Not Barry Allen."
…
It was such a warped coincidence that, after his Keystone PD field demonstration, Eddie Thawne came on his site.
"Barry Allen," he said, coming into the tent. Barry was packing up and about to leave Keystone PD. He stopped to take Eddie in. It had almost been a year. Eddie actually looked better, healthier. The two men stood and stared at each other.
"That was some presentation. I guess you're making a name for yourself, working for CCPD and with Star Labs. I see you figured out a way to combine your night job with your day job."
"What night job?"
Eddie smirked at the way he had Barry guessing. "I hear you and Cisco Ramon have been developing cutting edge meta-containment cells, meta-dampening cuffs, dampening ties, and other assorted restraining devices for meta-humans."
"That's right," Barry said. "But I'll confess the boot is all Ramon."
Eddie said, "Meta-humans, yes, your specialty, since I think you're one, Allen." But then Eddie went on with a, "Lots of money to be made. Every city has a police department." Barry had packed up the last of his things, two forensic kits. He slung one over his shoulder and picked up the other. "I've got to get back to Central City."
"I'll bet you do. How's Iris?" he said matter-of-factly.
"Iris is fine, thanks for asking."
"How's married life?"
"I love it," Barry said.
Eddie's jaw tightened. Then he took a step back, wanting to let it go, Barry sensed it, but something wouldn't let him. It was that same something that Barry felt when he woke up from his coma. There Thawne was, coming into the West's house, to introduce himself as Iris's boyfriend. It was the first thing out of Thawne's mouth to Barry. It wasn't an introduction; it was a warning.
"I guess neither one of us would take no for an answer until Iris forced the issue," Eddie said.
"The issue had to be forced," Barry said. "You're persistent, but so am I."
"And the arrogance in you, Allen, is that you woke up from a coma that had you out for nearly a year, and thought I was the encroacher, after never having said, 'Iris, you're my girl.' How arrogant, Barry. You always thought she was yours. What gave you that right, even when she was with me?"
"Iris has always been my girl, Eddie, since we were ten. And she always will be. I'll always care for her. I'll always love her. That's just a fact."
"That was one nasty lightning strike, Allen. You're supposed to be dead. I know. I saw your EKGs. In all fairness to her, she left you there when she thought you were dead and she needed a shoulder to cry on, not a man to fuck. That wasn't her interest with me, it turned out."
"Iris told me everything she wanted me to know about you and her. I don't need to know anything else. Iris was trying to figure out a way to live, to love someone that wasn't me, because, in a way, I was gone."
"Well, she did a poor job. It wasn't fair you know. What you two did, and I don't mean taking her from me on my wedding night—which I still owe you a broken jaw over. It was everything that lead up to that."
"That couldn't be helped. That was a decade and a half of… of what made us us," he said, looking at Eddie.
"Exactly. It wasn't fair that you two were in this quasi-best friends boyfriend girlfriend secret lovers' relationship. I mean, maybe you two didn't even know it, and with no sex between you two, it really threw me off. It would throw anyone off. But that's my point about it not being fair. It wasn't fair because you were already a part of her family."
"Yes," Barry said, "a part of her, a part of me," and he was off in a dream of a little boy or a little girl grasping his hand in a store and asking for candy, or maybe carrot sticks, he hoped. He has his eye on their mother. She is in the aisle reading labels and comparing food items. He loves her with all his heart and because he does, he gives in to the little girl holding his hand who looks just like her, with his paleness breaking through to help make the beauty of the caramel in her face, a few stray freckles here and there, a mass of curly dark hair, all pulled back into a pony tail bouncing every time she takes a step; and bright brown eyes that always looked up to him for direction, in knowing that she was safe, and a reassurance that his hand will always be there when she reaches out for it. And he feels like crying, knowing that he'll never be any happier than he was at that moment, especially when the little girl's mother turns around, smiles and says, 'This one or this one? I think you prefer this one, so I'll get this one.' He shakes his head, yes, he prefers that one, anyone she preferred, anyone she wanted to buy him.
"Allen."
Barry came out of his reverie. "Sorry," he said. "Recently, I have been… just daydreaming… about my life."
"Your life?"
"Yes," Barry laughed with this amazing feeling in an awe-filled tone, also astounded that he was telling Eddie Thawne this, like they were friends. "Baby strollers. Wherever I turn my head I see one now."
"The stroller or the child in it?"
"Maybe both. I'm looking forward to that," Barry said, to no one really, looking out through the tent's opening, catching the clear sky, and anticipating the long ride back to Central City. He spotted the other CSI pulling the vehicle up to the tent. "Well, I've got to go." Barry said with a half-smile, surprised at his mellowness in the presence of Thawne. He had always been uptight around him, always been defensive, always ready to 'rock and roll' with Eddie if he had to. But he didn't think he would ever have to now.
"If you're thinking about strollers, think again. Wait a few years to start having babies. Enjoy Iris's body while you can. Babies will ruin her figure and sag her boobs. And she'll probably struggle to get off the baby fat, and Iris already has an ass and some thighs. And as much as I know she likes getting it from you, she's going to lose interest in that for a while too. The baby is going to kick you out of her life."
Barry didn't mean for this day to rub it in for Eddie, but his phone notified him that someone left a message. When he took his phone out of his pocket, Iris's pretty face came up, wearing a big smile, along with her recognizable phone number. The same pretty Iris. She was that same pretty girl, Eddie noted, but without the sadness. He couldn't help but hear Iris's message along with Barry: "Hey, Babe. Hope everything went fab at Keystone. I know you awed them with that big brain of yours. Hurry home, please. I missed you all day. Missed having lunch with you. Linda and I had Big Belly Burger today. I have to repent with a good meal for you tonight. Call me back and let me know what you want. Except for me, I already know that. Love you, Bear." And Then Eddie heard a few smooches imitating kisses that Iris left. It was corny and syrupy and Barry seemed to be lapping it up. "Sorry," he said to Eddie. He clicked off his phone, then put it away. When he looked up, Eddie stared with this sour expression, full of resentment, that he was trying to check, to keep under control.
Barry said, "Good luck to you, Eddie," and the way he said it, Eddie could sense that there was no snark in it. Eddie lowered his head some, feeling embarrassed by all of his comments about Iris, but still really annoyed that Barry didn't seem phased by any of them.
Barry came out of the tent and packed his forensic equipment in the trunk of the car. They headed back to Central City. When he was seated on the passenger's side and they were on the highway, his colleague said, "Wasn't that Eddie Thawne you were talking with?"
Barry watched the trees pass by, saw the clear clouds coming at them, still in this mellow mood. He said, "Yeah."
"It's none of my business, Barry, but didn't you two—"
Barry was going to stop by Iris's favorite Thai restaurant and bring home her favorite dish. On second thought, he'd buy two more meals, one for him and one to share. They barely ate take-out anymore. Iris insisted on 'real dinners' and she cooked during the week nights. So, he was going to surprise her with real food from one of her favorite restaurants. Barry couldn't wait to get home. He turned to his colleague and said, "You're right. It's none of your business."
Chapter 3: And Other Good Things
She and Barry were almost nine months married, almost as long as it took to make a baby. The thought was random as Iris fought to keep thoughts like these at bay.
"… Well, just think about it, Wally. He hardly knows you, and it's not his fault, you know. And I've missed out on a mom the way you've missed out on a dad. And anyway, you can fill me in and I'll tell you anything you want to know. Let's tell each other our life's stories…" She turned around, her phone to her ear. She was in the kitchen in her baby doll lingerie. It was short and managed to cover Iris's ass, but just barely, and threatened to flash the bottom of her butt cheeks if she bent a tiny bit. She stood by the counter about to pour herself a glass of water. She liked tap water; Barry liked it cold. She smiled at Barry coming through. He stopped and gave her a kiss by her temple, then continued to the refrigerator for water himself.
"…The party is about a week and a half from today, Wally. Your name is on my invitation list." She looked at Barry with her free hand up as if to say, 'what could I do.' He was in his silk pajamas. The chocolate ones she bought him. Iris noted he and his long-legged self still looked good in them. They still made her think about the cabin. "Okay." Iris hung up and followed Barry back into their bedroom, both carrying glasses of water.
They both sat quietly on their sides of the bed, glasses of water turned up intermittently, just enjoying the early cool and dry late August morning. Iris said, "Look at us, we have extra time this morning and we're not trying to screw each other's brains out. Do you think our marriage is in trouble?" Barry put his empty glass down on the night stand, and turned back to her with this pleading look. "Don't say stuff like that."
She got closer to his side, and gave him an apologetic kiss by his ear. "I'm sorry. Our marriage will last through the ages, Bartholomew."
"Bartholomew? And I'm not in trouble?"
She sat down beside him cross-legged, her black baby doll lingerie settling around her upper thighs. Barry's eyes settled on the brown-skinned beautiful limbs, and his hand slowly rubbed her right thigh, then traveled to the left. When he looked up, she was staring at him. "I still love you in those chocolate silk pajamas," she said. He said, "I'm glad."
When she spotted them on the mannequin, at the little boutique in the town they had run away to, to create the life they really wanted, she noticed the mannequin's long legs and decided they looked like Barry's. She remembered being in all of her glory because she finally knew what naked Barry looked like, what naked Barry felt like, and she bought the pajamas while Barry was trying on shirts that looked the same as all of his other shirts. She brought her hand down his arm, thinking how she still loved to see him wearing them as he walked to their bed to get under the covers with her. Silk, like the way he offered his love to her under the covers. Pure silk.
"So, we're going to get to see your brother?"
Iris came out of her delicious thoughts and replied, "Yeah. He said he'd come."
"To our party?"
She smiled sheepishly. "I had to think of something and a housewarming party would get him here. And I started thinking. It would bring our families together. You know our families are so small. We should bring everybody together. And our friends, too."
"You know, that's not a bad idea," Barry said. "And even though we sent out thank-you notes for all the gifts, we can show them how we appreciate the wedding presents with a little get-together, because there was no wedding reception."
"Barry, that jazz club was my wedding reception, thank you very much."
Barry gave her a half smile that came out of his memories of the day they got married and the night that they danced and danced. He said, "I guess we could have a housewarming. No one's been here but us and Joe—"
"…and just recently, Henry and his girlfriend…."
"And that's pretty much it," Barry said. He'd get a chance to see his father again. And maybe they could start over or something. Maybe his father and Mary Alice will agree to stay overnight, instead of abscond to the cabin the way they did when they came to town.
Then Iris had her thoughts invaded again, out of nowhere, she wondered what it would be like to have a rambunctious little boy run into their room with a sweet 'good morning.'
"If we do have kids…."
"When…" Barry said.
"If it's a little girl, we'll name her Nora. Nora Allen will be the cutest little girl at kindergarten. I've decided I don't want her to get any older than five so I can pick her up and hug her for decades."
Barry laughed. "Okay. What about if it's a boy?"
"Bartholomew Henry Allen, Jr." She touched his cheek because she knew she caught him in his feelings, watching his green eyes sparkle. "You sure," he asked.
"I've always been sure about that. I remember when I was in tenth grade and spacing out in English class and thinking about you and… you know… after our rendezvous with the floor and your comforter and our bodies telling us how we really felt about each other…."
Barry grinned. "Yeah, you buying me condoms were a big clue how you felt about me."
She laughed a little, quietly. "Yeah. I wish I had given them to you when I first bought them. I was too scared to and was afraid you might take it the wrong way. But when the incident popped up in my mind, when I sat in English class and thought about you, sometimes my mind wandered and I found myself writing Nora Allen, or maybe Josephine Allen, or maybe Nora Josephina Allen. Once I wrote Francine Allen. And when I realized what I was doing I hid the doodles from myself. And when I peeped at it later it only had one boy's name—Bartholomew Henry Allen Junior."
"Iris, that's so sweet and sad and wonderful all at the same time." He brought his arms around her and hugged her up closer to him as she laid her head in his chest. He heard, "Why do you think it's sad?" His hug moved her even closer into his arms, his head tilting into hers, connecting with the contentment of their morning.
"I don't know exactly," he answered. "It's just me. A part of me back then was always sad. But it's sweet and wonderful that, back then, you daydreamed about a life with me." They were quiet after that, and took in the bright morning of the beginning of their day, the bank of windows flooding their bedroom with the cool August morning sunshine.
…
Iris was in their bathroom applying the last of her make-up. It was a warm September evening, technically summer, so she wore a printed sunny yellow and grass green dress, snatched at her waist, a little snug, she realized surprisingly, but the skirt flared out the way Barry liked; he liked to see her move in her fit and flairs. She applied the last of her lipstick. She was excited to be her own hostess in her own home. She heard her husband on the phone talking to her father. "Knock on that door and walk into our home, Wally, into our lives," she said to herself in the mirror. "An abandoned dormitory is not the place for a young man with kin who loves you."
Before she left the bathroom, she stared helplessly at the home pregnancy kit she bought that morning when she was out and about, picking up last-minute items for her dinner party. She had placed it in her cart at Central City Super Market #14, close by their loft. She remembered being in the specialties area to buy cheeses and olives for her crudités. She wanted a light platter, just to curb hunger because she had a substantive meal planned and she didn't want to ruin her guests' appetite with a lot of finger food. Every now and then she would glance in the shopping cart beside her, half thinking about the pregnancy kit, babies, play dates. She turned away from it and examined jars of olives. And she wasn't sure because she saw her from a side glance, then a reflex glance away from her, maybe to pretend she had not seen her. But they both saw each other. Iris felt her approach.
"Hi, Iris," Becky Cooper said. Iris still had the jar of olives in her hands but she looked away from them. "Doctor Cooper."
Becky smiled wryly, tilting her head. "Hi, Becky," Iris said. For one moment there was complete silence between the two women, but in that moment, they were aware of both of their situations. They both had wanted him, but Iris had him. And there was this look on Becky's face that went back to the tenth grade, when they were all in the tenth grade together, when Becky believed she had a chance, when she discovered Barry Allen. And Iris always seemed slow in the presence of Becky, and she didn't mean intellectually. She meant Becky was quicker to the punch with Barry. Yes, she remembered. The first time she knew that Barry had any kind of an interest in a girl that wasn't her was seeing Becky Cooper around him. The pretty brunette hovered wherever Barry tended to be, who sometimes stole Iris's spots to sit beside him in their crowded high school cafeteria. Once, after a string of failing to get to the cafeteria on time, Iris fought tears walking to their popular lunch table, her lunch tray shaking, yet again seeing Becky happily sitting beside Barry and biting into her cheeseburger, leaving Iris the end space. Becky also had the audacity to trail him to the gym after school to sit with him while he did his homework and waited for Iris to walk her home. Becky and Barry both threw Iris off her routine, they sitting together, heads down in their books but each stealing glances at her for totally different reasons.
The next day, Becky was banned from watching the squad's routine. That last time when the cheering squad told Becky she couldn't watch their practice, Iris just stood, hands on hips, pom poms at her sides, long-legged short-skirted stance squared, directly gazing at Becky and pulling rank. Cheering practice was her territory and splits and jumps belonged to her. She remembered Becky protesting why she had to leave but not Barry. Iris still stood like a general, waiting for her soldier cheer-leading squad to escort Becky out of the gym. The last thing she heard from Becky was, "Your spatial-time transitions suck!" Iris turned, still hands on hips, and stared at Barry, as if to say, 'Your move,' He just shrugged like, 'I'm not in it.' And he went back to studying, intermittently watching them practice, but really watching Iris move. Well, sometimes in regards to Becky, she wasn't slow.
Becky said, "When Barry told me he was going to marry you, I offered my congratulations to him. Now I'm offering you my best wishes. I hope you know who you have, Iris. He's one in a million."
Iris was kind of annoyed with that. She wasn't the eleventh grader afraid to have sex any longer. "I know who I have. I love him with all my heart."
"And he loves you the same way. I know," Becky said, almost curtly, and her hand went to her cheek, as if she wanted to think but changed her mind. She started to say her good byes but the pregnancy kit in the cart caught her eye. "You're trying for a baby and you think you may be pregnant."
"Yes… we've been trying… for a couple of months."
"Well, then you're probably a couple of months pregnant. Barry Allen does what he sets out to do. He's stubborn like that." And Becky couldn't help it, but she let Iris see a pride in Barry that she had. Iris actually liked Becky a little for that. She said, "I thought I was pregnant last month, but my period came. So…this month?" and Iris crossed her fingers with a shaky smile.
"Well, you can't have a period and be pregnant at the same time," Becky said, "but maybe you are pregnant, but you were spotting last month. That can happen."
"I'm not going to make a big deal out of it," Iris said. "I don't want to worry Barry."
"You know, Iris…." Then Becky stopped, looked at the pregnancy kit and said, "Well I have to go," and turned not before Iris could see this sadness in her eyes, but just as she turned.
"Becky," Iris said, and when Becky turned around her face was pleasantly neutral again. "Good luck to you. He thinks a lot of you."
"Thanks, I am trying my luck actually," Becky said. Her wave was quick as she walked away.
Now Iris picked up the pregnancy kit in question, and held it to the mirror, scrutinizing it. She was going to use it, but she wouldn't open the box until the next day, that next morning. She wanted to have fun that night, and at the end of that night, she did not want to cry on Barry's shoulder, because she opened up the innocuous looking box. She wanted to kiss Barry's shoulder, lick Barry's shoulder, squeeze and touch Barry's shoulder, not cry on it. So, she would wait. She should put space between the good times she expected to have with her husband and extended family and good friends, and her fate wrapped up in the box she held, until the next morning.
…
The newlywed couple's first guest had arrived. Iris gave Barry a quick kiss and stood beside him when he opened the door. Immediately his dad walked into him and gave him a big hug. Iris could tell that it warmed Barry's heart. And Henry's too. The soft light in their foyer shined on the printed summer silk in Iris's dress. Mary Alice smiled at Iris. "You look lovely, Iris." She had a present in her hand and offered it to Iris. "Oh, thank you," Iris said. She escorted Henry's lady friend into the living room while Barry hung back with his dad. Father and son were looking at some of her and Barry's wedding photos on the entryway table. Iris said, "We have hors d'oeuvres." pointing to the coffee table. "Help yourself."
The next time she opened the door, it was her brother. Finally, her younger brother Wally West was at her door. "Sis," he said, and walked in with this surprisingly huge and handsome smile. He obviously was proud of what he saw too. That his sister was beautiful, way prettier than the picture he downloaded from her Central City Citizen news blog. Iris hugged him and at first, he was hesitant to bring his arms up to return the hug, but he wanted to, so he did. Iris's smile lit up the foyer when he did that, which made Wally relax. The handsome young man looking like a younger version of her father took a step back when he saw the picture of his brother-in-law and his sister dancing happily by the entrance of their loft. "Come in." She pointed at her and Barry dancing. "That was the best day of my life."
Wally said, "You two look great." She took him by the hand. They made their way to the bar. "I know you're hungry. Dinner will be served soon. Help yourself to the hors d'oeuvres."
He said, "Iris, I'm sorry I was cross with you over the phone. I wasn't going to come. But what good would that do me—or you, or our dad. Because the truth is, I want to get to know you both."
"And you will, son," Joe said. He had arrived looking dapper, and with Assistant District Attorney Cecile Horton stepping beside Iris. She said "Hi" to Cecile and the ADA flashed a smile obviously glad she was there with Joe West. Iris couldn't believe how big her family was growing. "You look like the pictures," Wally said, to his dad and they continued to talk after Joe introduced Wally to Cecile. Iris left them to get more acquainted and made her way to the serving station and poured herself a champagne flute of ginger-ale, because "Just in case," she said to herself. "Just ginger-ale." Then she made her way over to her father-in-law. Henry turned around. "Oh, I was just looking at your wedding pictures. Unconventional, he said." Iris smiled. "Yes, but Barry and I love them."
The guests continued arriving. Linda came in bubbly and pushing a gift into Iris's middle. She immediately wanted a house tour. And Iris was about to accommodate her, but Linda spotted someone. "And who is that delicious morsel over there talking to your dad?" Linda licked her lips. Iris said, "He's my brother." Linda tried not coughing up her embarrassment. Iris laughed and whispered, "In due time, Ms. Park."
When the doorbell rang and Barry answered it, Barry pulled their friend in and gave him a big hug. Iris said, "Tuey! You made it!" and joined them both.
And it was like that for a few minutes. When Cisco and Caitlin arrived together Iris felt that everybody invited had shown up. She wanted to cry for a minute, she felt so grown up, feeling like Hortense Hayworth, Iris thought, and giggled a little instead of crying. But she loved that the loft was full of her family and her friends.
At one point before dinner, Mary Alice walked over to Iris, and said, "I think this belongs to you. It's young and pretty." It was her hairpin jewelry that had fallen out of her hair and had dropped between the sofa arm and the cushion when she and Barry stayed at the cabin. It was she and Barry's first time having sex, for real. "It's a beautiful little hair pin," Mary Alice said. She took it from Mary Alice. "Thank you," she said. Like her first wedding dress, it had disappeared. She happily forgot about both until the cleaners mailed her a check for her ruined dress. She sighed, but smiled at the hair pin lying in her hand. Something came over her and she didn't want to throw it away like the rest of some things. She wanted to keep it. Barry came over and placed his arm around Iris and she let him use her as a way to help him get to know the woman who looked like his dad may love her. He smiled genuinely, and it was as if that took the stiffness out of her and the three of them began a real and good conversation. After awhile, Iris excused herself. She wanted to give Barry and Mary Alice a chance to get to know each other better than the night Henry brought her to the loft, introduced her, and then decided to drive to the cabin. Barry said, "I'm glad my dad let someone in his life. I was kind of worried there for a minute, or a few years."
Mary Alice smiled knowingly. "I know what you mean about Henry."
"Yeah, it takes time with my dad. I'm frankly surprised he let someone in his life. A lot of things have happened to him."
"Well, I'm not so surprised," Mary Alice said. "I got a chance to watch him first.
"I'm a nurse and I was visiting my husband on my break. He was at a care facility and I would sit with him during my lunch break every day. Then your father came in wanting to volunteer, spend some time reading and talking and just getting the patients to forget about why they were there. Henry is a great talker, with loads of stories. But he's a soft talker, and I don't mean soft spoken. He gets your attention with his interest and not volume. He pulls you into the story."
"I didn't know that he volunteered," Barry said. He and his dad had had a quiet but more reserved relationship since Iron Heights freed him. Barry just did not know what to say to him and he didn't know how to talk to Barry any longer. He only asked about Iris, how they were doing, if there was any way for them. What are you waiting for, Barry? Stop thinking about me. Think about your own life. Listen to me. Or she'll think you don't care and she'll wind up with someone else and you'll wind up like me—alone.
"Henry was a volunteer, where my husband died of cancer," Barry heard Mary Alice say, coming out of his thoughts, thoughts that he had finally faced, and he and Iris had confronted them together.
"So sorry to hear that, about your husband," Barry said.
"Henry would just come, talk to the patients, as if he knew what they wanted to hear, and it would be the weirdest things… like knowing my husband played golf and missed it." Mary Alice's eyes seemed far away, but with a touch of a connection to her dead husband, but also to Henry.
"Then Walt—my husband—waited for Henry, and I'll admit, so did I. He sat beside us, a perfect gentleman. I knew he was educated by his words and ways, but I just recently found out that he was a medical doctor; by accident, by picking up his mail. He told me that was in the past, but he just couldn't help coming to the center and helping out."
"Iris volunteers at Central City Hospital, reading to and just making very sick kids feel a little better." He watched his dad's girlfriend search for Iris amongst their guests. "People like Iris and Henry are special. You're lucky, Barry."
Barry said proudly, watching Iris, "I know."
"Barry, he never talks about his life."
"He'll tell you," Barry said. "When the time comes, he'll tell you everything."
"I hope so," she said. "Keeping secrets and holding back hurts a relationship, even a healthy one, and I think we're trying hard for one."
"I hope he tells you everything soon. You deserve to know."
Presently Barry's dad came over and stood by Mary Alice's side, gave her a quick hug. He was all smiles. "Isn't she something?" And Barry wondered how much of Iris's cordials and alcohol offerings he had consumed. His big grin and open face reminded Barry when his mother was alive and they had get-togethers with friends. He would stand around socializing with that same, big, handsome grin holding a drink. Barry placed him in the living room of the home of his childhood. Just for a second. Then it was gone.
Barry left them to mingle with other guests. Wally and Linda had finally shaken Joe and were in an animated conversation that was about the science of thermodynamics and car racing—which he swore he didn't do anymore. He wound up watching old car racing events and old track and field events on Youtube. "Hey, I thought you were in college," Linda said in fake admonishment. "This is my graduate—and last year."
Barry went over to Joe, who looked as if he was feeling rejected. Barry said, "Give him time to get her phone number. He'll get back to you," Barry said, giving his father-in-law a conciliatory hit on the back.
"I hope so," Joe said. "We were having a good talk. He reminds me of you in a way."
Barry was curious. "In what sense?"
"He needs direction. But once he gets his bearings, he'll be okay. I want to be there to see where he goes and share his paths, if he'll let me."
"Thanks, Joe. For everything." And Barry couldn't help it, but he gave his foster dad a big hug, because for the longest, he hated thinking of Joe West as his dad. Because then, who was Henry Allen? But he felt like a son giving his dad a hug. Joe West had saved him. And asked only what a father would ask of a son, Respect yourself, Protect your home. And Barry would add: Love Iris, because how could he not? "Well, Iris has some games lined up after dinner, so make sure you join in."
And Barry watched Iris, moving everyone effortlessly to their dining area for dinner. She looked radiant, but something else, a glow, a sweet presence in their loft with him and her. And it seemed to be affecting everyone in their home. His dad helped Mary Alice with her chair at the dinner table; Wally was the one who sat beside Joe and started a conversation with his father. Joe seemed relieved and happy and they got into a little quiet conversation. Barry himself headed to the table, and helped Iris with her chair. There were no strict seating arrangements, no name cards on Iris's lovely china, and so everyone wound up sitting beside the one they loved or wanted to get to know or wanted to get to know better, even wanting to get to love.
Cisco and Caitlin were being queried by Linda about their meta-human power dampening containment cells invention. Caitlin explained that it was really Cisco's and Barry's invention and that they were in the forefront of meta-tech. Linda was trying to get a scoop about Star Labs in general and they both knew it. "Ah no shop talk in front of this beautiful piece of meat," Cisco teased.
Iris was pleased and proud that everyone was enjoying her dinner. She had the prime rib catered, not willing to take a chance on ruining such an expensive piece of meat by trying to prepare it herself and ruin her dinner, but she actually made the side dishes herself: glazed carrots, roasted red potatoes, and Grandma Esther's almond green beans. The catering service also baked her desserts, two chocolate cakes, a butter cream lemon cake, and an apple pie. The dinner was very different, but in a way, reminiscent of her and Barry's wedding dinner. Reminiscent in how she felt, happy and encouraged.
It was a lot more informal than Hortense Hayworth's, but she would approve. It was a happy evening. Iris loved the fact that there was so much family noise, real friends' energy; so much talking, laughing, telling jokes. The Assistant District Attorney Cecile Horton was actually making eyes with her dad, and Wally was going to be a great baby brother, she could tell. If Linda could only keep her eyes off of him. But if anyone was going to steal him from her right away, she was glad it could be Linda.
And in a flash, Barry sees that his father notices Iris's hands. Iris is being expressive at the moment, explaining her blog, but his father catches Nora Allen's rings, his wife's rings on Iris's finger. His father takes in Iris's hand. It's smooth, deep brown, delicate, and from the story she is telling, not afraid of work. Her hand gestures are poetry and the diamonds in the rings sparkle as the light hit them in a familiar way. Henry just looks at Iris and smiles, not a somber or sad note in his wrinkles on his face, or at the crinkles at his eyes. He laughs at the joke Iris is telling, the humbling but funny joke she made about her viewership and her blog, but it seems as if Barry's father has given himself permission to feel sentimental for the rings, and love for the daughter-in-law. Barry watched it all, and knew that his father would be okay.
Eventually, they wound up in the living room, with drinks, they all still in the mood to talk and laugh. Her dad got into a music challenge with his son as he and Wally played Name That Song, everyone joining in, as Iris passed around dessert plates on which sat indulgent slices of chocolate cake, the plates a wedding present from her dad's new love interest, Cecile, as she asked Iris to call her. Maybe Cecile will be the girlfriend, Iris had her fingers crossed.
Finally, everyone gathered around as Iris brought out the best course of the evening: her family album. She presented it to Barry as she took a seat beside him. It was a dark chestnut brown leather picture album, gold letters announcing, Bartholomew Henry Allen's Family Album. Barry was quiet for a minute, looking at his name. Then the husband kissed the wife on her lips. "Iris, it's beautiful," Barry said, as they all sat around, on the sofa, chairs pulled up, necks craning and he opened up the picture album to see what he and Iris had started.
Their first picture was of Barry and Iris on their wedding day. They were in the officiant's chamber at City Hall where he announced them husband and wife. It was the complimentary picture for City Hall newlyweds, Barry and Iris standing beside each other acknowledging that they had just exchanged their vows of marriage. Iris said, "Guys, we know we look like Grant Woods's American Gothic," to good-natured laughter.
But in the next picture, Barry had his arm around Iris and she was up under him in a cushy hug. Her arms were around his waist but she was smiling for the camera in a free at last, or more accurately, together at last pose. The next picture showed her head on his chest, she smiling out from what she felt like his protection from all of her mistakes with him. Barry looked out into the camera with just this 'now things are square' happiness. Cecile said, "That's a great picture, you guys. It's such a contrast from the official photo."
Wally said, "You should make this one your official photo—officially happy."
Iris looked up from the album agreeing with her brother with a little nod. She just grabbed hold of Barry's hand, resting for a minute, giving their guest time to take in their wedding day pictures.
There were other pictures: the dinner photos that their waitress e-mailed Barry. On the e-mail subject line she wrote: The Allens. Beautiful pictures, Beautiful Couple, for a beautiful day.
"These are wonderful pictures, Iris," Henry said. But I like that one." He pointed above the bench by the foyer. It was Tuey's wedding present.
"Thank you, Tuey," Iris said. "That is such a wonderful picture, and the way you had it enlarged, still crisp, clear. I love coming home to it every day."
Everyone eyed the big reproduction hung over their foyer bench, "It does look like you and Barry can just dance right out of the picture," Tuey said.
Barry and Iris were dancing at a jazz club to their first dance. Tuey caught them where Barry's arm was extended, Iris at the end of his swinging her out onto the dance floor, her dress forever in motion. And it was more than the beautiful printed deep rose swing dress, or Barry's handsomeness in his wedding suit, it was the way they looked at each other. She remembered the dance and Barry did too. He said, "No wonder they clapped. We look fantastic." Everyone could see they felt fantastic, too.
…
The housewarming dinner party was a success. Iris had said her goodbyes to everyone and presently, she heard her husband and father-in-law laughing quietly and talking about—she strained to hear—"Did Barry say something about playing golf?"As she removed her make-up, she said to herself. "That's not going to happen," and continued taking off her make-up. After a while, the two of them were alone again in their home.
"What's not going to happen?" Barry asked, coming into their bedroom, already unloosening his tie. "Oh, nothing. I heard you guys talking about golf."
Barry laughed. "Yeah, no, not happening."
She turned then, and just watched him, and he tilted his head somewhat and said, "What?"
She stepped into him and brought her arms around his waist and answered, "You make me feel so good, Barry."
He smiled, looking down at her. "Yeah?" And of conversations remembered, he never forgot the one he had with his parents after Iris had dinner with them for the very first time when they were both ten.
Barry's grin was wide. "Well?"
"Well, what, Slugger?" Feigning ignorance was his father's favorite tease, because there was nothing ignorant about his dad.
"The dinner," Barry said, and not what he actually wanted to say, like, "Iris. How do you like her, because I think I love her." One of his regrets. He never said that to his mom.
"Oh, the dinner," his dad said. "Your mom's pot roast is the best."
"Dad, you know what I'm talking about."
"Oh, you mean Iris," his dad said. "A very pretty girl. I see why you like her."
"She is pretty, but that's not the only reason I like her. It's… the way she makes me feel when I'm around her."
"That's nice son," his father said, "but how do you make her feel? That's the question to answer."
He never forgot his dad's comment.
"Iris," he whispered, "you make me feel so good, happy, worthwhile." He brought her closer into him and gave her his profoundest hug. He put years of meaning in it, choked up some, wanted to cry. He just lowered his forehead and rested it against the side of her face.
…
In the middle of the night, Iris opened her eyes. If she wasn't pregnant before they went to bed, she surely was by the end of their loving-making. She gently moved out of Barry's space and over to her side of the bed. She pulled the covers back, swung her feet to the floor and slipped on her nightie sling-backs. She moved quietly into their bathroom. She turned on the night light. She took a deep breath and opened up the pregnancy kit. Before she removed the wrapper, she said, "I want to have a baby, but if I never have a baby, I'm confessing right now that I'm the luckiest woman I know." She looked into the mirror, still holding the pregnancy kit. And if I can't have a baby, we can adopt. We'll make some kid happy. Kids. We'll make kids happy. I know it. We'll fill up our house with love and kids. We're halfway there already.
…
Early morning and she turned into his arms. He was rustling up. He said, "Hey," as if there was something that only they shared the night before.
She peered up in his eyes. "Good morning, you. That was a nice housewarming."
He said, "Just the housewarming?" And she grinned in their early morning privacy. "Barry, that is always nice."
He said looking at her, "Thanks."
She just kept staring up at him, her smile now jovial, but there was something in Barry's eyes. She said, "What, Barry?" because usually she could read him. He said, "I see you didn't use the pregnancy kit. You opened it, but you didn't use it."
She said, "I was going to, but yesterday showed me how lucky I am. I have friends and family, but most importantly, Barry, I have you. I'm happy with just you. You and I are our family. And maybe someday down the line, our family will grow, but Barry, I need you to believe that I feel complete with just you. Do you believe that?"
"Yes," he said. "I feel that, too. I am complete with you. Just add Iris."
She giggled a little. "Okay," she said. "What're we going to do today?"
Barry ran his hand over her tummy. It was a soft kneading, as if he was thinking. She said, "What?"
"I think you need to see Caitlin."
She laughed some, puzzled. "See Caitlin? Barry, it's Sunday."
His hand still moved over her tummy, just over her uterus, where life would be. He said, "Iris, I saw a little delicate ring of yellow lightning, my lightning, dancing here last night. Really, early morning." And he placed his hand on her stomach.
"But, Barry, I didn't notice anything."
"Baby, I knocked you out." And she laughed, pulling out a little smirky grin from Barry's mouth. "So, what are you thinking, Bear?"
"I'm thinking, that's my lightning, my speed force and it played over your stomach area, but that's not all, something I can't explain. There was another aura, a purple ring of lightning, just as delicate, intertwining and playing with my lightning, and they both just gradually disappeared in you. Here."Again, he laid his hand on her. When she looked to where his hand was, he took her hand in his, and together they rubbed her belly.
"Oh," Iris said, her hand still in a dance with Barry's, over where she would carry a child.
"Which is why, I'm going to call Caitlin and get her in Star Labs in a few hours."
…
That night Barry and Iris took a stroll in the gardens across from their apartment house. The September yellow and bronze hardy mums were still in bloom. They kept walking through the park, inhaling the fragrances of the flowers' blooms on either side of the walking trail. Very rarely did they walk through the gardens but now they had time. Iris stopped to read the plaque on a pretty yellow flower, a perennial with masses of sunny yellow blossoms. Iris said, reading the plaque, "Lemon Goldenrod." Then she looked up at Barry. "It reminds me of your lightning." He squeezed her some and they sat down on a bench beside the Goldenrods. Then Iris said, "Look, Barry, there's an Iris, and it's purple, and she leaned into Barry as they both appreciated the blooms, but especially the yellow and purple blooms.
He placed his arm around her shoulder and brought her into him further, while her arms went around his waist. Barry's touch, the evening, the night full of flowers in bloom smelled wonderful to her, and made her sensitive to everything around her, to them both.
They sat quiet for awhile. Then Iris looked up at him, and a little radiant smile played on her lips. "Two months," she said, sighing in a happiness that was just a few hours old when Caitlin told them that yes, Iris was pregnant, that the pregnancy hormone confirmed it, and yes, Barry's meta-human DNA was in the growing baby, along with Iris's human DNA.
"Caitlin said that my meta-DNA could be active or dormant when the baby is born, we would have to see."
"Should we call my dad and Henry and tell them the good news?" Iris asked.
Barry said, "Yeah, but not tonight. Tonight, I just want to enjoy my family."
Iris rested her head on his shoulder then, and said, "Yeah, so do I."