Spoilers for the promo for S2.16.

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Iris West was drunk. Not sloppy, hold-my-hair-while-I-puke drunk but giggling, laughing, adorably buzzed and tipsy drunk. And a tipsy Iris was a handsy Iris. A tactile person by nature, the addition of alcohol made her more so and the object of all that touching was the man who never seemed far away . . . Barry Allen.

At the table, she leaned into him, merging their bodies from hip to shoulder until they looked like two halves of the same person. Coming back from the ladies room, she draped herself over his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her cheek against his as she laughed at a joke that he couldn't hear over the roaring of blood in his ears. She insisted Barry dance with her, and once on the floor, moved against him so sensuously, he thought the soles of his shoes would melt from the heat.

Fate was laughing at him, Barry decided, and knew it was true when Wally left the club with a girl he knew from the racing circuit, unwittingly taking Iris' keys with him - which included the key to her apartment.

Iris shrugged it off. "I'll just go home with you. Oh!" Bouncing on her toes, she grabbed Barry's arm. "You can do the Flash thingie!"

Barry winced and gingerly loosened her grip before her nails left permanent marks in his skin. "Or we could call a cab."

She pouted. Genuinely pouted. "But I want you to do the Flash thingie."

Cisco snickered into his beer. "Yea, Barry. Do the Flash thingie."

He knew when he was beat and simply shook his head and took the half-empty glass out of her hand. "Okay, but let's go now. I think you've had enough to drink."

Iris squealed with childlike anticipation, clapping and bouncing on her toes again. She waved a jaunty goodbye to Caitlin and Jessie out on the dance floor, and went willingly when Barry lead her toward the back exit, where they could leave in relative privacy. When he swept her up in his arms, she draped her arms around his neck.

"Is there anything I need to do?"

Barry smiled down at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright and while he knew some of that was directly related to the number of drinks she'd consumed, he also remembered seeing that same face when they'd ridden the biggest roller coasters together as children and teenagers.

"Just hang on."

He took off, leaving Iris' scream of laughter drifting in their wake.

The trip would have been over in mere minutes but her obvious enjoyment made him stretch it out. Instead of going straight home, he took a route that swept them through the streets of Central City near her office and the police station before it finally ended at the front door of the house they'd both grown up in. Iris was still laughing when he set her on her feet.

"That was great!" They were barely inside when she threw her arms around him. "Let's do it again! Right now! Can you go faster?"

Her excitement was contagious. He couldn't help but grin. "Yea, but I didn't think you'd want your clothes to catch fire."

Iris jumped back, alarmed, scrambling out of her jacket and letting it fall to the floor as she checked the pretty blue dress for flames. All that sudden movement was too much for her inebriated condition; she lost her balance and swayed where she stood. Her purse dropped to the floor as one hand went to her forehead. "Whoa . . ."

Barry steadied her in place, his grin changing to a look of amused sympathy. "Everything spinning, huh? Come on, let's get you upstairs."

She protested on every step but followed his lead anyway. Inside her old room, she fell prone across the bed. Barry went to the foot and tugged at her shoes. A whimper of pain halted him.

"What's wrong?"

"Shoes are too tight," she mumbled into the pillow. "But they're so cute . . ."

Barry studied the bare foot in his hand; sure enough, an angry red line marred the otherwise smooth surface below her toes where the shoe had bit into her skin. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to massage the tender area. Acting on impulse, he let his hands vibrate as they squeezed.

"Oooooooooooh . . ."

The husky groan stopped him in his tracks.

"No, don't stop." Iris rolled to her back and scooted a few inches lower in the bed until she was close enough to rest both feet on his knees. "Please, it feels so good . . ."

He swallowed hard, immediately rethinking the wisdom of his actions as he looked up the length of her body. As tiny and delicate as Iris was, she had miles of leg for her height and at the moment, with the short skirt hiked even shorter, every inch was on display. She rubbed at his thigh with her toes.

"Barry . . . "

Jaw clenched, he gave in. When his hands began to vibrate again, Iris moaned like a woman in the throes of ecstasy.

"Yes. Right there . . . right . . . there . . . That's . . . it feels . . . so . . . good . . . Don't stop . . . don't stop . . ."

His own reaction was physical and instinctive. Blood pooled in his groin, hardening his erection to the point of pain. Eyes closed, Barry worked on her feet while he struggled to find something - anything - that might distract him from the noise she was making.

He recited the periodic table, and then did it again backwards.

He tried to remember every word of Klingon he'd memorized when he was thirteen.

He pictured his high school gym teacher and tried to recall the smell of the corpse found last year when workers demolished the old sewage treatment facility.

Nothing worked. Nothing erased the images in his head created by the erotic sound of Iris in his ears.

"God, Barry. You can do this to me every night . . ."

It was too much. He shot up from the bed and backed away.

"Okay, you're good. I mean, I'm good. I mean, your . . . your feet are . . ." His traitorous brain refused to form a coherent thought, not with the bulge pulsing beneath his zipper. "Goodnight, Iris. I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"What was she like? Do you miss her?"

The soft whisper froze him in place halfway out the door. Panic on his face, he clung to the handle like a drowning man with a lifeline.

"Who? What was who like?"

"Me. The other me. The other Iris." Drowsy and slumberous, Iris gazed at him through the silver moonlight that filled her bedroom.

"Uh . . ." Barry was nonplussed. She'd been quiet on the subject since the night he'd revealed the story of Earth-2 and truth be told, he'd been too grateful for her silence to question it. Now, he shrugged as he stepped back into the room, helplessly drawing close to her again. "She was great. She was you."

"Was she prettier than me?"

He laughed. He couldn't help it. "No one is prettier than you."

She sat up, arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair fell loose and soft around her face as she watched him with eyes that seemed even larger and darker than usual. "You said we were married. You liked that, didn't you? And you liked her, too, I can tell. Do you like her more than me?"

Tears shimmered and even though he knew it was the alcohol talking, Barry couldn't let her cry. The mattress creaked when he sank down beside her. He took her hand in his. "Of course not. She was great but . . . you're my Iris. No one means more to me than you do."

Her fingers twined through his, a fragile link holding a willing prisoner in place. "Did you kiss her? You were married, you must have kissed her."

"Technically she kissed me." The feeble attempt to inject humor into the suddenly taut atmosphere fell flat. The tears came back, fat drops of crystal that slid over her cheeks and melted the last of his resistance to fate. "Iris . . ."

"You kissed her," she sniffed piteously, "but you've never kissed me."

Barry's mouth opened and then closed. Once before, he had kissed her. He could still feel the sting of the frigid wind blowing across the water, and hear her voice as she confessed to thoughts of him. But then he'd erased that timeline, and so those memories were his alone.

Now, sitting in the intimacy of darkness, he didn't think. He simply acted. He cupped her face in his hands and touched her lips with his. A spark of electricity sizzled in the air around them. In concert, two heartbeats stuttered to a stop and restarted with a thump. Neither breathed, neither moved until finally Barry drew back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. Noses touching, they exhaled together, then filled their lungs with the same breath.

Barry watched as Iris' lashes rose slowly. Her sultry smile was a different kind of intoxication.

"Kiss me again."

It took a strength of will he didn't know he possessed to shake his head. He got to his feet and stepped back, away from her.

"You're a little drunk, Iris, so I think . . . I think you should just . . . just get some sleep. That's what you need right now. Just sleep. Just . . . sleep."

Her mouth pursed in a moue of disappointment but she lay back against the pillows and watched him stumble to the door.

"Goodnight, Iris."

"Barry?"

Expression wary, he looked back. "Yea?"

"I won't be drunk tomorrow."

She was already asleep when his brain started working again and her words registered. Unable to do anything else, he closed the door behind him then stood there for a few minutes, eyes closed, leaning into it while he listed all the reasons why leaving had been the right thing to do. He opened them to see Joe coming up the stairs, holding Iris' jacket in one hand and her purse in the other.

Guilty of intent if not action, Barry quickly stepped away from Iris' door. "I can explain . . ."

Joe's dark scowl turned thunderous as he read the younger man's face like a book.

"You damn well better!"

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Let's hope Barry talks as fast as he runs. :-)

Thanks for reading!