Thank you, Anon!

Hal was reclining on the couch, Barry asleep in his lap and curled possessively around him, when Iris walked in through the kitchen door. She froze once she spotted them, keys clutched tightly in one hand and grocery bags hanging from her arms like she'd just come home from the store and had no idea that she was supposed to be dead. Hal bolted upright in dumb shock, his eyes wide and terrified. Iris dropped the plastic bags as she stared at him in mirrored surprise, the only sound between them the jingling of her key ring.

"Iris?!" Hal choked out around a tongue dry and heavy in his mouth. How was she here?

Her eyes narrowed in budding anger, hands drawn up in shaking fists and her lips pressed into a firm line.

"What the hell is this?!" she fumed. Her cheeks were burning red, and her eyes were starting to glisten with prickling tears.

"It's not what it looks like!" Hal insisted frantically. It suddenly wasn't so strange that she was here, alive, breathing. Of course she wasn't dead. Why had he thought that?

"Then what is it, Hal?" Iris's voice cracked low with raw emotion. She flung one arm at him in an irate gesture, tears now spilling down her cheeks. "Because it looks like you're sleeping with my husband!"

Hal looked down, and then he was sitting upright in a bed he'd never seen before. Barry was lying face down beside him, naked and hair mussed like they'd just gone a few rounds with each other while his wife was out. Hal grabbed for the sheets and pulled them up to cover himself, disoriented and confused.

Iris's expression twisted violently from hurt into vicious disgust. She straightened up to an impossible height at the foot of the bed, shadows casting her features into frightening contrasts of light and dark, "He's not yours, Jordan. What makes you think you're allowed to be with him?"

Hal's heart was beating so hard in his chest that he could feel it shaking his bones. Fear crippled him and kept him from answering back as he stared up at Iris towering over them.

"Wally and Barry are MY family!" Iris screamed at him, teeth sharpening and fingers stretching into long claws. She swiped one arm at him and tore a bedpost clear in half. "Get the hell out!"

Hal jerked awake with his whole body, toppling off the couch in panic. He shot out both hands and kept his face from the floor with his fingertips and one foot. He took a few deep, gasping breaths before daring to move and scan the room for any signs of Iris. He was in the living room just like in the dream, but it was bright with sunlight and filled with the cool spring breeze fluttering through the curtains. Hal rose to his knees and turned around towards the kitchen. There were no grocery bags on the floor, and Iris was nowhere to be seen. The only other one in the house with him was Wally, seated at the table with his homework and watching him in open concern.

"Pop?" Wally asked cautiously. His pencil was poised over a sheet of math problems, in the middle of scribbling down an answer. A half-eaten plate of crackers sat in front of him beside a cup of bright blue fruit punch. Hal shut his eyes and rubbed them to calm down. Wally was right where he'd left him before he'd fallen asleep in the living room. It was Thursday, 3:12pm, Wally was doing homework and having his afternoon snack, Barry wouldn't be home until five, and Iris had been dead for four years.

Hal stood up shakily, his body still antsy like someone had wrung him out like a wet rag, "Yeah?"

"…Are you okay?" Wally still hadn't moved, wide-eyed and waiting for a reply.

"I'm fine!" Hal hastily plastered on a huge grin to hide how freaked out he was. "Just had a weird dream, kiddo."

He watched Wally slump against the chair as he relaxed, "What was it about?"

"Zombies," Hal lied fluidly, adding a cheeky emphasis on the word like he was super glad to be awake and away from them. "They tried to eat my handsome face off. Yikes."

Wally fell for it, giggling at the story and going back to his workbook, "Can you help me with my homework?"

Hal leaned over him to examine the math workbook, still trying to control his heartbeat, "Multiplication? Of course I can. Let me just run to the bathroom, and I'll be right back to help, alright?"

"Okay," Wally accepted easily, and Hal kissed the top of his head before retreating up the stairs to the top floor.

He ducked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, his carefully crafted smile falling apart before the latch caught. Hal moved in front of the mirror and leaned over the sink with his eyes closed. He steadied his breathing – in through the nose, out through the mouth – and tried to push the remnants of the dream away.

But this was what he'd secretly worried about since that first Christmas he and Barry got together. What would Iris think if she could see them?

The nightmare had lacked any sense at all, but it laid his fears bare at their core. What would he do if Iris actually did barge in one day demanding to know what in the hell Hal thought he was doing there? Thinking about her made Hal feel guilty for being with Barry. It was stupid and irrational, but Hal couldn't help it.

No matter what he did, a part of Barry would always belong to her. That was normal. That was fine. Hal didn't expect Barry to stop loving her just because she was dead. They had their time together, and Barry had healed neatly and moved on. Hal had done that – spent two years cleaning, stitching, and mending the raw, bleeding wound that Iris' death had torn open in his best friend.

It didn't change the fact that Barry and Iris would still be together if she was alive. Realistically, Hal knew that there was no way to be absolutely certain of that – things happened, perfectly stable, happy relationships crumbled every day. But he would've bet his life that Barry and Iris could have been that ninety-year-old couple in the park, still as happy and madly in love as the day they first met. And that was the real issue that terrified Hal. If she came back today, walked in the door like Hal feared, who would Barry choose? It was ridiculous; it would never happen, and Hal felt like the worst person in history for wondering about it, but he couldn't help it.

His relationship with Barry was still new and fraught with insecurities. Hal knew that he should probably talk to Barry about this, but how the hell did he even begin to bring up the subject? He risked never coming to terms with it if he stayed silent, but he also risked hurting Barry by voicing his fears. And Hal would rather chop off his own hand.

He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, breathing deep in resolution.

This was stupid.

He and Iris had always gotten along just fine. Iris had never been anything resembling a harpy. Hal had never even heard her raise her voice to yell at someone. She'd been sweet and kind, and the only way she'd disapprove of Hal carving out a place for himself was if he ever gave anything less than his whole heart and soul to protecting Barry and Wally. That was where they were one and the same.

Hal wasn't replacing her. There would never be any dilemma or reason to ask who Barry loved more. Hal would only damage their relationship if he insisted on competing with a dead woman.

He reached for the towel hanging from the wall and pressed it to his face, wiping off the water and all the lingering doubt. Wally was downstairs waiting for him, and if Iris really was watching over them, Hal wanted to show her that he fully intended on taking care of her boys for her.

When Hal opened the door and made his way down the steps to the living room, he felt a tremendous weight slough off of him. He smiled for real this time as he took a seat beside Wally and looked over the math problems he was meant to help with. Maybe he would suggest taking a trip to visit Iris' grave when Barry got home.

Hal wanted to pay his respects.