I know just what she's thinking and I can't wait

After that first sunny Sunday afternoon, road trips become a tentative tradition they indulge in whenever the world slows down enough to justify escaping (which, when you can run as fast as Barry Allen, doesn't require too much). Every few weeks or so, Caitlin will call or Barry will text or they'll swap a sunshine bright smile across a lab table and a few hours later they assume their familiar positions: Barry fiddling with the radio dial, steering wheel gripped casually with one hand and Caitlin twisted slightly off center in the passenger seat, smiling behind her sunglasses and drumming along to the beat. When he gets really lucky, he manages to coax her into singing, and her voice is soft and beautiful when it's not weighed down by a few too many drinks—it sounds like the embodiment of summer.

Today is another one of those supremely flawless afternoons—the sun is playing peek-a-boo against a backdrop of fluffy clouds, a hint of a breeze teases the full green canopies of mid summer, there hasn't been a hint of meta induced danger in days and Caitlin Snow is singing along to the radio, twisting her bare ankle idly along with the upbeat tune of the music.

Everything is absolutely perfect and Barry Allen is completely and totally in love.

It's been adding up, like the miles on her odometer, through a spring and summer of long afternoon drives to nowhere: every mile marker shoring up another little affectionate moment or thought until he's so far in that the only thing he can do is keep driving, waiting for the moment when their destinations coincide and they're ready to set the trip meter to something completely new. Until they reach that point, he's content to enjoy the ride they're on and the time he gets to spend with her.

"We should go to the beach today," Caitlin breaks away from humming along with the country tune (he's developed a special fondness for country music as of late—something they've been learning to love together, just another bit of these adventures that belongs solely to them) to comment.

Barry feels her gaze on him, even if he can't see it behind her sunglasses. His own eyes still largely on the road, Barry angles towards her a bit to acknowledge the idea with a beaming smile. They've been ambling down the highway for about forty-five minutes, same as they always do, a destination never the point even if they do always end up somewhere. "Any beach in particular?" This area of the state is full of sandy-beached lakes; they've stopped at a few on their travels, each one beautiful in its own way.

"Surprise me." That Caitlin Snow, of all people, trusts him with the element of surprise is certainly a warm weight in his favor, he thinks, knowing that there are not a lot of people in this world she willingly gives control over to. Barry wonders if that's a sign he should already be reading as easily as those along the highway, but the thought gets lost in deciding which turns to make and so he doesn't comment on it.

"Sounds like a challenge," is what he settles on saying instead, his tone teasing even as it makes his heart stutter a little. He covers that gentle rise of anticipation and nerves with a grin.

"I have it on good authority you like a challenge," Caitlin teases right back, shifting even more in her seat so that she's turned almost entirely toward him, one legged tucked under the other. The position is decidedly unsafe, something she would normally rail against, but she's with Barry and there's never a moment with him that she feels anything but safe. Besides, the position allows her to trace the slope of his smile, the scarce scattered freckles that dip below the collar of his shirt, the way he hums along with the song that's playing and the thrill those observations give her is worth a little extra danger (her life is plenty full of danger anyway, this hardly factors in on the scale these days).

"True," he laughs, as if caught by delightful surprise, turning towards her for a moment since the road before them is fairly empty. "You're definitely my favorite one though," Barry adds brightly, so easy with his affection that it causes a twist in her stomach—she can never tell which way that affection is teetering and the more time she spends with him like this—casual and free and so damn happy—the more it gnaws at her that she can't conclusively figure it out.

Like she always does though, Caitlin lets the light, easy atmosphere of their road trips dictate her own response: she laughs loud and unfettered (ignores that pull of indecision) and counters quickly: "Sweet talk all you want, it's still your turn to buy the ice cream Barry," before settling herself back to face a little more forward, eyes on the stretched out highway even as the curl of her smile lingers for him to see.

Barry lets the tenor of his laughter mix with the soprano of hers as he clicks on the turn signal and takes an exit, deciding he knows exactly which beach of their many options to choose. If it's ice cream she wants, he'll gladly buy her the best cones they've found so far.

Part two of the road trip trilogy, a mid summer adventure now that they're settled into the routine and the feelings are well and truly building. The third and final part will be up sometime later this week. It's written, I just need to get time to do a final sweep of edits and polishes and get time to upload with work craziness. Thoughts and comments always greatly appreciated!

Take Care & Best Wishes,

AOR