Barry reaches to the coffee table to steady himself, a flash of reeling fuzziness clouding over his brain.
He blinks his eyes to clear away the spots, flexes his tingling fingers, and blames his recent fatigue on overwork combined with a lack of sleep.
It's not easy working as a forensic analyst at the best of times, and trying to hunt yourself as a forensic analyst, while secretly galavanting off to play hero is not even close to the best of times.
It occurred to Barry that Jay Garrick, in his comic-book world, had made this look easy. He couldn't believe the naivete of his younger self - thinking the hardest part of hero-work would be fighting villains.
Stretching to pop his back as he walked, Barry reflected that the hardest part was trying to fit everything into a day and still have time for sleep and family.
No contest.
Thankfully, despite sometimes seeming to exist in a perpetual state of annoyance with her chronically late fiancee, Iris West was a godsend.
Barry reentered his kitchen to finish tossing the black beans into his Mediterranean Salad (When making food for each other Barry tended to make things that did not require baking and therefore could not be assisted by super speed or could be burned in the oven) and began to shuffle through his cabinet for bowls.
After one too many exposures to Barry's tardiness, Iris had finally thrown up her hands and declared that next time she would come to him, and as long as he didn't leave his apartment, he would be incapable of being late.
Barry's attention was captured by a knock at the door, and in a burst of super-speed, the dishes and food were set on the table and he had whizzed a hand through his hair to make it a closer semblance to presentable.
He and Iris didn't dress fancy for in-house dates, but he couldn't shake the habit of straightening his hair, even though Iris swore his attempts only made it worse.
Pleased as punch at a date starting on time (early even!), though slightly stung at having been removed from even the possibility of commuting, Barry strode toward the door, a smile uncontrollably creeping over his face.
He swung the door open and Iris breezed in, all of 10 minutes early, and (Barry thought) looking as though she had been to a beauty salon no less than half an hour ago.
When Barry shared this observation she laughed, eyes crinkling the way they always did when she thought he was 'being a dork'.
"Barry, you goof, I always look like this: the wind even messed up my hair on the way in."
Barry shrugged, knowing the grin spreading over his face did nothing for his 'dork' designation and offered Iris his hand. "Sorry. You just always look so beautiful the salon doesn't change much."
Iris slipped his fingers through his, laughing. "Nice comeback, sweetie. Well, so much for that $50 a month, I guess. We'll have to find something else to spend it on if Chey's Hairworks leaves you that unimpressed."
Barry laughed, Iris's hand in his warming his fingers to the core.
Barry reaches to the coffee table to steady himself, a flash of reeling fuzziness clouding over his brain.
He blinks his eyes to clear away the spots, flexes his tingling fingers, and blames his recent fatigue on overwork combined with a lack of sleep.
It's not easy working as a forensic analyst at the best of times, and trying to hunt yourself as a forensic analyst, while secretly galavanting off to play hero is not even close to the best of times.
It occurred to Barry that Jay Garrick, in his comic-book world, had made this look easy. He couldn't believe the naivete of his younger self - thinking the hardest part of hero-work would be fighting villains.
Stretching to pop his back as he walked, Barry reflected that the hardest part was trying to fit everything into a day and still have time for sleep and family.
No contest.
Thankfully, despite sometimes seeming to exist in a perpetual state of annoyance with her chronically late fiancee, Iris West was a godsend.
Barry reentered his kitchen to finish tossing the black beans into his Mediterranean Salad (When making food for each other Barry tended to make things that did not require baking and therefore could not be assisted by super speed or could be burned in the oven) and began to shuffle through his cabinet for bowls.
After one too many exposures to Barry's tardiness, Iris had finally thrown up her hands and declared that next time she would come to him, and as long as he didn't leave his apartment, he would be incapable of being late.
Barry's attention was captured by a knock at the door, and in a burst of super-speed, the dishes and food were set on the table and he had whizzed a hand through his hair to make it a closer semblance to presentable.
He and Iris didn't dress fancy for in-house dates, but he couldn't shake the habit of straightening his hair, even though Iris swore his attempts only made it worse.
Pleased as punch at a date starting on time (early even!), though slightly stung at having been removed from even the possibility of commuting, Barry strode toward the door, a smile uncontrollably creeping over his face.
He swung the door open and Iris breezed in, all of 10 minutes early, and (Barry thought) looking as though she had been to a beauty salon no less than half an hour ago.
When Barry shared this observation she laughed, eyes crinkling the way they always did when she thought he was 'being a dork'.
"Barry, you goof, I always look like this: the wind even messed up my hair on the way in."
Barry shrugged, knowing the grin spreading over his face did nothing for his 'dork' designation and offered Iris his hand. "Sorry. You just always look so beautiful the salon doesn't change much."
Iris slipped his fingers through his, laughing. "Nice comeback, sweetie. Well, so much for that $50 a month, I guess. We'll have to find something else to spend it on if Chey's Hairworks leaves you that unimpressed."
Barry laughed, Iris's hand in his warming his fingers to the core.
With Iris's smile blinding him, and her hand anchoring him to his seat, a fuzziness overtakes him completely unrelated to his previous weakness. Throughout the dinner, he barely even notices the distant ringing in his ears.
With Iris's smile blinding him, and her hand anchoring him to his seat, a fuzziness overtakes him completely unrelated to his previous weakness. Throughout the dinner, he barely even notices the distant ringing in his ears.