pre-relationship Barry/Eddie, 2500 words, pg-rated
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If You Want A Storm Come Dance With Me
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"Daddy, where do nuggets come from?" Eva inquires, her arms raised over her head so he can slip on her PJs without the struggle that usually ensues. Coming home with Eva every night starts a routine that unwinds the tension the job leaves at the base of his neck at the end of a long day; homework, dinner, playtime, and a bath all flow into one another, both for his and Eva's sake. He likes the structure. Eva needs the structure.
"Chickens, baby," he answers without thinking, though he scarcely has the heart to tell her the truth – if Eva were to hear her favorite food exists because chickens died to make it she might choose to become a vegetarian, which he wouldn't mind, but he couldn't live with the thought of adding any dent to his baby girl's heart.
"Like eggs?" Eva turns around, tugging her hair behind her ears like a real little lady. The parenting books told him an inquisitive phase would pop up sooner or later, and Eva's been nothing but 'Daddy, what's this?' and 'Daddy, what's that?' since they moved to Central City – he dreads the day she inevitably asks him where babies come from; the books advised him to prepare, but he's at a loss on how to handle that one.
"Just like eggs." He smiles and boops her nose, making Eva scrunch up her face and giggle, starting the whole next routine of actually getting her into bed.
Before he can suggest hot cocoa, though, someone knocks at the front door.
Eva gasps, and places an index finger over her lips, the other raised as if to say, 'Quiet! I think I hear someone!'
"Who could that be?" He feigns along, gesturing at Eva to follow behind.
They both head for the front door and he opens it without checking to see who it is first. If he had he could've prepared for the sight of one Barry Allen, and he might not have breathed, "Barry," quite so enthusiastically.
"Hi." Barry's eyebrows rise, as if he, too, hadn't figured out what to say yet, "Sorry to bother you, but–"
Eva appears in the doorway. "Barry!"
"Hey, Eva." Barry smiles down at Eva, his attention wholly drawn to the little girl by his side. He'd been surprised to find her in Barry's lab earlier today; despite her love for science Eva's picky about the people she gets attached to. She's a lot like her dad, in that respect. "I love your PJs."
He looks down at his daughter, who perks up. "They're dinosaurs!" she shouts, her voice travelling the length of the hallway while she points at the tiny dinosaurs printed all over her pajamas. "I have to show you my teddy!" she says, and leaves dull thumps on the carpeted floor as she hightails it to her bedroom.
He turns back to Barry. "Whatever you do, do not mention The Land of Time," he warns, aware it will mean watching the entire movie before Eva agrees to go to bed. As long as she doesn't hear the title of the movie she tends not to realize its existence, but even he slips up from time to time.
Barry exhales a breathy laugh.
It's odd seeing the CSI at his doorstep so spontaneously; most of their interactions up until now had been as professional as he could muster, because a new job meant a certain level of professionalism before he could even think about becoming friends with anyone. Barry, however, uncoordinated mess that he was, had left a swift impression on him since day one. Everyone knew his story; a young boy pretty much orphaned when his dad went to prison for his mom's murder, raised by one of the CCPDs own, detective Joe West. The truly remarkable thing about Barry Allen was that for all the tragedy he'd been through, he was one of the kindest people he'd ever met. Not everyone made it through tragedy quite so unscathed. He'd always been grateful Eva was too young to remember her mom's death.
"She uh–" Barry digs around in his pocket and unearths Eva's asthma inhaler, "left this at the lab."
He chuckles; he raised Eva to be thoughtful and mindful of her personal belongings, but she can't be trusted with her inhalers. "You didn't have to come all this way."
"I thought she might need it." Barry shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets as soon as he's handed over the inhaler, accentuating his long lean built. He can't deny he hasn't taken notice of certain specific features in Barry's anatomy, the strong jawline, thin lips, endless legs, not in the least the dozens of freckles he wonders about.
"Barry, look!" Eva comes storming back, her stuffed triceratops pushed to her chest. "This is Cera. It's short for Ticera– Tricera–"
He cups the back of Eva's head, mulling through her curls. "Triceratops, sweetie."
"Triceratops!" Eva's eyes alight. "Get it?"
"I do." Barry smiles wide, a smile he's skillfully hid at the CCPD up until now, and he wouldn't mind seeing more of. "That's very clever. I was always more of a stegosaurus kind of guy."
Eva draws in a short breath, before she throws her head back and tersely fixes her blue eyes on him, tugging at a leg of his pants. "Can Barry have cocoa and 'mallows with us, daddy? Can he?"
"I'm sure Barry has other places to be, sweetheart." He stares down at his daughter apologetically, but chances a look at Barry nonetheless; maybe the CSI would be willing to continue his knight in shining armor routine for a bit longer. Eva seems especially taken with him. A lot like her dad, too, in that respect.
"I don't want to impose," Barry says, but doesn't appear to be making a move to go anywhere.
"It's a bedtime tradition." He waves Barry in. "Come on, it's the least I can do."
A few moments later he has a hesitant Barry Allen in his living room, and a daughter jumping up and down on the couch, and he's not quite sure when his neatly structured rule of keeping professional and private separate started to unravel. He supposes it began when his babysitter quit out of the blue to join Doctors Without Borders – even he hadn't seen that coming when he hired her a few weeks before. He doesn't like mixing it all, home and work, now Eva and Barry, even though they're getting along better than he could have ever imagined.
"Are you sure she should have any more sugar?" Barry asks, following him into the kitchen, but not before eyeing the energetic toddler still jumping on the couch.
"Believe it or not, hot cocoa and marshmallows put her right to sleep."
"Neat trick." Barry leans back against the kitchen counter while he warms some milk.
"It's okay to say it, you know." He looks at Barry sideways, watching the other man's eyebrows rise again in question. "Never pegged you for a father?"
"You just seem so–" Barry shrugs, "put together."
He smiles at that. When he was first left all alone with Eva, still mourning Julie and only his mother around to help, he struggled to balance his job with irregular hours with a colicky baby at home. There were times he didn't think he'd make it, that he'd have to quit the Force and find some nice 9-to-5 so he could actually be there for his daughter. He would've given up everything if it meant being able to be her mom and her dad, but even his mother agreed he shouldn't leave a job he loved. What kind of message would that send to Eva when she grew up? The very thought of her actually growing up nearly sunk him through the ground too, but over the years, six beautiful years now, they've come quite a way, and they're a real team.
As if on cue his sunshine breezes in, ready for her favorite part of the night: dunking the chocolate into the milk.
"You sure you're ready for this, kiddo?"
Eva salutes. "Aye, captain!"
Barry forgotten, he reaches down for Eva while she stretches her arms out like she's an airplane, and he hovers her carefully over the pot of milk. "Watch your hands," he cautions, but Eva daintily drops in the pieces of chocolate, watching them melt steadily to make her hot cocoa.
He sets her down again and high-fives his daughter. "Well done, partner."
Eva giggles and inches back until she hits Barry's legs. Barry flinches but smiles down at Eva, and Eva stays right where she is. What is it about Barry Allen that has both Thawnes so– smitten?
"Sorry," he says, suddenly conscious of Barry's presence again – he worries a lot as a parent, he worries for two even, but one of the most amazing things about being a dad is how he forgets the rest of the world when he's with Eva. Even on his own, on the job, Eva is his entire world, his biggest worry, his greatest love. Maybe that's why it's taking him so much time making friends. "She brings out the worst in me."
"If this is your worst I'd hate to see you at your best," Barry jokes.
He blinks up at green eyes, while a frown knits Barry's eyebrows together. Barry's lack of filter might also be one of the things he's taken notice of.
All three of them settle at the kitchen table with a cup of hot chocolate and a fair amount of small marshmallows swimming at the top. Eva swings her legs back and forth underneath her chair and blows bubbles into her milk, while Barry explains the intricate anatomy of a stegosaurus; thankfully he avoids saying 'Spike' or any other reference to The Land of Time, so Eva listens in silence, her beautiful eyes wide, nodding every few seconds because she either already knows what Barry says in great detail or she's excited to hear it.
An interest in science is one thing he doesn't have in common with his daughter, so he's tried stimulating that by buying her books and movies, even documentaries, but nothing beats a fellow enthusiast whose eyes shine much the same way Eva's do when she's excited about something.
He's silent for most of the conversation, content to watch Barry and Eva talk. Eva needs more positive influences like Barry in her life, or a role model; he'd hoped the babysitter would help with that but she's off in Zimbabwe somewhere saving lives.
"Go brush your teeth while I show Barry out," he tells Eva once she empties her cup and deposits it in the sink. It's late, and tomorrow this whole circus starts all over again; they both need some sleep.
Eva tracks over to Barry, dragging her feet a little, but jumps up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Barry," she says, and without sparing either of them another glance she leaves the kitchen. He never raised Eva to get so attached to strangers, did he?
He walks Barry back to the front door, almost reluctant to let him go. What is it about Barry Allen? He shouldn't even be thinking about words like smitten or any part of Barry's anatomy, he has responsibilities, and mixing his home life with work could get messy.
"Thanks for this, Barry."
"Not a problem." Barry turns in the doorway, scratching the back of his head. "She's a great kid."
"Maybe–" he starts, softening his voice so he doesn't come on too strong. "If you'd like." This could get so terribly messy. "You'll let me buy you a cup of coffee sometime. Without the bratlet around."
Barry draws in a breath and nods a few times before he answers, "S-sure", and he tries his best to pretend his eyes don't fall straight to Barry's lips.
"Night, Barry," he says, fingers curling tight around the door handle. Coffee's just coffee, it doesn't have to mean anything more– coffee is a noncommittal potential thing, right? He's been out of the game for too long to know for sure.
"Night."
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He leaves the Thawnes with a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, though he's none too sure if that's the hot cocoa's doing or Eddie's scruffy voice asking him out. Did Eddie even ask him out, or will this coffee be a friendly thank you for being so nice to Eva? He doesn't need a thank you, it's not hard to be nice to any kid, let alone one as adorable and well-behaved as Eva. Does he even want to go out with Eddie?
"What's with the face?" is the first thing Iris asks as he pushes through the doors to Jitters, a coffee shop not too far from the precinct, and his foster sibling's part-time job to stay ahead of her college loans.
"I think Eddie asked me out." He plunks down at one of the high tables, the shop nearly empty, safe for a few stragglers at the back.
Iris raises an eyebrow.
"Eddie Thawne?" he prompts. "The new transfer from Keystone."
Iris nods slowly. "Detective Pretty Boy."
His eyebrows knit together. Detective what?
"That's what my dad calls him," Iris explains, sitting down opposite him. "You're not into him?"
"No, I am." He takes a deep breath, folding his arms on top of the table. He's really really into Eddie Thawne; the strong built and gorgeous smile, bright blue eyes, the waistcoats and that thing he does pulling at his belt. If none of those had peeked his interest before, his kind countenance and the adorable way he acts with Eva would've been enough to convince him. But Eddie's older and he has different responsibilities, he's at a completely different point in his life, and– "He just– he has a kid, and–"
"He's a brat?"
"She is completely adorable," he corrects. If someone had told him he'd end his evening with Eddie and Eva Thawne talking about stegosauri he would have laughed that person out of the room. Incidentally, Eva liked dinosaurs, and he liked dinosaurs, Eva, and her dad. His entire day had spun into something he had not expected. "I just had hot cocoa with them at their kitchen table. She likes science and dinosaurs–"
"Then what's with the face?"
"Should I even think about dating a guy with a kid?"
"A hot guy with an adorable daughter who speaks your language? Stop making excuses."
He scoffs. "You don't know he's hot."
"I inferred." Iris beams. "What's the worst that could happen?"
He blinks a few times. What is the worst that could happen? He could fall for Eddie Thawne, a cop at the same precinct he works, a guy with a six-year old, a guy he could never have a normal date with because he has this little person who relies on him for everything. He could fall for that little person and get attached and then do something stupid to screw everything up.
But where's the risk if he doesn't take a chance in the first place?
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tbc
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