A/N: I wrote this one on Labor Day of last year, so it's just post-s6 with the implication of Labor Day after Iris got out of the Mirrorverse. In this fic, she's still dealing with the after effects of the Mirrorverse and everything that happened. Kinda angsty, but I hope you enjoy!

*Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Iris sat on the couch in the living room, sipping the dark roast Barry had made her and staring into space at some spot on the wall. Her mind was blank, as it was most days unless she was interacting with people. Which didn't happen often, except with Barry, and very occasionally with Team Citizen. Frankly, she was tired of being so empty-headed. But she'd been through a great trauma, as her and Barry's therapist so often liked to remind her. It was okay to feel a little out of place after what she'd been through.

She turned her head to the side to view out the window. It was snowing, light flakes, on Labor Day. If things were different – and not just with the weather – Team Flash and Team Citizen would be having a barbecue today. It had been so nice yesterday Barry had opened the windows. But not today. Today there was a slight chill, enough that she'd put on sweatpants and fuzzy socks. She wore one of Barry's STAR Labs shirts with a blanket wrapped around her. She wore his shirts a lot when she was at home. She found them comforting.

Four months ago, in May, she had finally been rescued - found her way? - out of the Mirrorverse. She couldn't remember anymore, and it hardly mattered. She was just glad to be out. After Eva McCulloch was taken down once and for all, there was a sense of victory, and a long-deserved moment of peace.

It didn't last, though. In the aftermath, Iris found herself still feeling the effects of the Mirrorverse.

For starters, she experienced severe PTSD every time she saw a mirror and spotted her own reflection, something she'd seen far too much of in the previous months. It reminded her of Eva, and of her mirror self, and of what had happened when her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She didn't regret trying to track down the story, but would she have gone out in the middle of the night knowing what would happen when she did?

She didn't know. The reporter in her said yes, absolutely. Find the truth, bring justice, no matter the cost. Barry had been losing his speed, going out of his mind with how he'd be able to save people once it ran out, but he never gave up. Even when he lost his speed entirely and was worried sick over her disappearance, he found a way to keep going, to persevere, and eventually the artificial speed force was created and sustained. His speed was returned, and that combined with her determination not to go crazy was what freed her in the end.

But it wasn't just her own trauma aftereffects that had her losing her grip, fading away into someone that just stared at walls and struggled to stay present in conversations. She'd returned to a society that was filled with display after display of police brutality, and in addition, a world-wide pandemic that had taken so many lives.

She didn't have to worry for Barry's life, thank God. But so many others were in danger. People wore masks everywhere, and get-togethers were few and far between. At times she joked that she'd been better off in the Mirrorverse.

"Don't say that," Barry would whisper into her ear, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

She'd oblige and not say another word. She couldn't bear to be without him either.

"Hey," he said now, in the present, interrupting her thoughts and making her attempt to refocus on his presence. "You okay?" he asked when she didn't respond, and he came to stand in front of the window she'd been staring out of.

Iris forced a serene smile and nodded.

"Mhmm."

She took another sip of her beverage.

"The coffee is great, by the way. Thank you."

She held the hot mug close to her chest as he sat down next to her. She shifted then to face him and allowed him to take the mug from her and set it on the table beside them.

Iris looked at him curiously.

"Something wrong?"

"No."

He smiled, taking her hands in his and kissing each one, feeling reassured by the warmth in them from the fire lit up in the fireplace and the heat spread throughout the room, despite the chill just outside the windows.

"I just worry, that's all."

A knowing look crossed her face.

"About me?" He said nothing. "Don't." She hesitated. "I'm getting better. The therapy helps. You help."

He nodded.

"I'll get there. It just…" She sighed. "Takes time."

"Come here," he requested after a moment of silence, and she brought herself close to him, laying across his outstretched legs, and resting her head on his chest. The blanket flowed over them, warming them further. Barry kissed her brow, and she hummed appreciatively.

She licked her lips.

"All I thought about when I was in there was you, Barry. Finding a way back to you and not…losing my mind."

His eyes shut, his imagination running wild, as it always was, of what it must've been like for her.

"Don't blame yourself," she ordered. "It wasn't your fault. And if you say you should've known sooner one more time, I-"

"Okay, okay," he said, a light chuckle slipping through his smile. "If you insist."

"I do."

She reached up and planted a kiss on his lips, lingering, brushing dark against light and savoring the moment. Then she wound her fingers into his hair and pulled him down to her to kiss him again, this time deepening it and tangling her tongue in his mouth.

She felt him shiver and harden beneath her and sat up, straddling him and shedding the blanket to the far end of the couch. She lifted her shirt up over her head, baring her breasts to his eyes, too lazy this morning to bother with a bra.

"Iris… Aren't you- Aren't you cold?" he asked, his fingers delicately touching her mounds.

She leaned down and kissed him again, whispering into his mouth.

"Warm me up, Barry."

His thumbs resting beneath each breast, he covered one nipple and then the other with his lips, swirling his tongue and nibbling gently until they became hardened peaks. Then he covered each breast with his mouth, nearly covering each one completely with his large, wet mouth.

Iris gasped and arched up, then ground her clothed, drenched pussy against his crotch, seeking friction where it was difficult to find. She held Barry's head to her, then finally drew his shirt up and dragged it over his head as well.

Their lips locked and Iris stood up, still kissing her husband. She shoved her pants and underwear down and kicked them off her fuzzy-socked feet just as Barry shoved his sweats down to his ankles and then pulled her back on top of him.

Slowly, he lowered her on to his throbbing cock. A sigh of pleasure escaped them both, and Barry went to work kissing her neck as she rode him slow and steady, her nails digging into his scalp as she ground in further, the feel of his cock making her nearly delirious.

"More," she breathed, and he leaned back to start to thrust up into her.

Iris planted her hands on his chest and moved with him, increasing in speed, moving her hips in sensuous circles, and gasping when Barry's hands covered and squeezed her ass to push her along faster.

She moaned loudly; teeth pressed to her bottom lip as her eyes rolled back. Each thrust up into her touched a spot previously untouched, angled in a way that had her gasping for air. Her grinding brought him closer to completion too, leaning back, cupping one breast in his hand and flicking his thumb over her nipple.

"Oh, God," Barry cried out when Iris switched to bounce. His head pushed back into the arm of the couch, stars before his eyes as he shut them tightly, the image of Iris and her long, beautiful locks and body of a goddess riding him beneath closed lids.

When he opened them, he could see she was doing the same. Her eyes closed, her body writhing, her breasts bouncing, and her nails dragging down his chest.

Barry surged up, lay her back against the blanket on the other end of the couch, set one foot on the floor and lifted her legs over his shoulders. Then he fucked her into oblivion, till she screamed, and he shuddered; and then they came, together, and he nearly collapsed.

"Iris," was his last word before he squished her into the couch and lay his face between her breasts.

"Iris," he said again, and then kept repeating it. "Iris…Iris…"

She weaved her fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head, sweat droplets staining her lips and chin.

"Barry," she whispered contently, then shut her eyes. "Barry."