He'd said it.

He'd actually said it. "How about we go on our first date? A real first date."

Because with all the "I want to kill the Flash" metahumans and the "I want to destroy Central City" metahumans, there really wasn't much time for simple things like romance. Not that romance was uncomplicated. It was far from it, actually. But for some reason, there was something natural and easy about them being together. So she'd just nodded slowly, a small smile spreading across her face. Then he'd added, "I'll pick you up at around 7."

Caitlin had a plan. Simple, organized, detailed, with minute by minute steps:

4:00: Pick a dress for the date.

4:30: Go to the gym across her apartment.

5:40: Shower.

6:15: Get dressed.

6:30: Put on make up.

7:00: Be ready.

So when her phone rang at 6:07, and her caller ID showed Barry (with a heart next to his name, cliché, she knows that), her plans began to go to hell.

"Hi," she answered, shutting the water off.

"Hey," he said sheepishly. "So... I just realized that I have no idea where you live exactly now that you've moved."

She shook her head and couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. Dammit, how did he make her smile so much with such little things? She gave him directions to her new place, and when she finished, he said, "Alright. Be there soon," before hanging up.

Then panic began to set in for Caitlin. He was almost an hour early, and there she was, still covered in soap and shampoo.

She must have set a new record because in less than three minutes, she was out of the bathroom completely free of water except for her hair. She dried it after hastily putting on the dress she'd chosen.

Knock knock knock.

Oh God, no. Not now. She glanced at the clock. 6:20.

She grabbed the front door's knob and noticed it was slippery. Then she realized why: her hand was sweating. Why was she sweating anyway? She didn't have a reason to be nervous. It was just Barry. Just a regular date. Just her first date with Barry.
Oh God she was going on her first date with Barry. It was actually happening. Right now. Oh right, he was on the other side of that door.

She swung the door open and greeted him with, "You know, for a man who's always late, you're extremely early."

He chuckled and shut the door behind him. "You know, for a woman who's always extremely early, you're late," he said, noticing her bare feet and unorganized hair.

"Again, being at S.T.A.R. Labs before any of you get there doesn't mean I'm extremely early, it just means you're all extremely lazy." At that, he laughed wholeheartedly. "Well, I still need to put on make up and..."

"No," he interrupted.

"What? What do you mean by 'no'?" She asked, baffled.

"No make up. You don't need it. Like, at all."

She smiled at him warmly. There he goes again, making her smile like an idiot. "Fine, but I have to do my hair."

"Nope."

"And what's your argument this time?" She asked, sitting on her bed.

"You don't need to fancy up. Just pull it in a bun," he shrugged casually.

"Well my buns suck," she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"I can do it for you." Her eyebrows went even higher. At that, he elaborated, "Iris insisted I should learn. She said it will come in handy, especially when girls need to tie their hair when they get drunk but can't do it themselves."

"You didn't tie my hair when I got drunk."

"That's because you didn't have a hair-tie. And I don't exactly walk around with hair ties in my pocket."

"But you carry a handkerchief," she objected teasingly.

"Would you just let me do the damn bun?"

He grabbed a hair-tie from her night stand, sat on the bed next to her and started to gently pull her hair away from her face.

"So did you practice on Iris's hair?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, but she made me practice on dolls first."

She laughed boisterously at that, and he was glad to see her so relaxed. It had been a while since she had been so care-free.

"Done!" he exclaimed, and she walked to her mirror admiring his work. "Not bad, Mr. Allen. Maybe you should give up that whole superhero business and open a hair salon," she joked.

"A hair salon just for buns?" He asked.

"Good point," she admitted. Then she turned to him, "So no make up and no fancy hair-styling. Can I at least put my heels on or should I just go barefoot?"

"Oh, no, put them on. I'm not carrying you if you decide the ground is too dirty," he joked.

"Such a gentleman," she retorted, strapping her heels on.

"Everything for you, my dear."

She patted him twice on the cheek, motioning for him to follow her as she grabbed her keys and put them in her clutch. Once they were both out of her apartment, she asked, "So where to?"

He shook his head. "It's a surprise."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her outside the building where Joe's car was parked.
"No superhuman speed?" she asked.

"The car is not just for transportation," he said, winking at her.

She didn't try to inquire; she knew he wouldn't tell her anyway and would relish teasing her.

The ride to wherever they were going was a comfortable silence and took them outside Central City. When he glanced at her, the setting sun threw beautiful highlights to her brown hair, and he couldn't help but grow even fonder of the woman next to him. He pulled to a stop on a hill top, right when the moon came out, and said, "Close your eyes and promise me you won't look until I tell you to."

She just nodded and closed her eyes as he got out of the car. A few moments later, when he told her to, she opened them to dozens of fairy lights hanging above a blanket on which was a basket. The lights' ends were tied to trees and were powered by the car's battery. The light breeze was refreshing, and it moved the grass so that it tickled her feet as she walked among it.

Caitlin approached the blanket where Barry was sitting and joined him. From there, all of Central City was visible, where moving car lights as well as still apartment and street lamps joined the fairy lights' glow. "This is beautiful," she said mesmerized by the view. She couldn't take her eyes off of it, and she couldn't believe that Barry went through all of this trouble just for her.

He was staring at her looking at the city when she turned back to him. The contents of the basket had been emptied out on the blanket with all sorts of food. "You're beautiful," he said, and she blushed, not because of what he'd said - she'd heard that sentence plenty of times before - but because of the childlike sincerity with which he spoke.

"Oh shit, I forgot to bring you flowers," he blurted out, and before she could tell him that it was O.K., that this was so much better than flowers, he had supersped through the field of daisies nearby and was back by her side, offering her the flowers. Another smile crept up her face, and she thought that if he kept making her smile like that, she was going to wake up with facial cramps the next day.

They started eating, and really, with food around, there was no room for talking. When they finished, Barry cleaned everything in a second and turned off the fairy lights. They lay on their backs, looking at the stars. He pointed out a few constellations, admitting he'd learned them just a day prior to impress her.

They ended up talking about everything and nothing, about their first jobs and how the stars work, about their dreams and their favourite T.V. shows, about broken hearts and celebrity crushes - which awfully reminded Barry of Iris's three list -, and about their idea of afterlife and who would beat the other at Mario Kart.

"You know which star shines the brightest?" he then asked. When she whispered a 'no', he turned on his side to look at her. "You," he simply said.

She laughed. "That is so cheesy."

"You know it's true."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

"Oh I just remembered the name of that constellation I was telling you about. It's the..."

She interrupted him. "Just kiss me."

So he did.

The rest of their evening wasn't spent stargazing. He spent it gazing at her, laying on her side and resting against his chest. So maybe he was stargazing after all.