an: feels weird to write prose for this fic, but it didn't seem right to just skip over this moment altogether

guide: Plain text is Iris. Italics are Flash. Bold italics mean Barry.

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Part Seven (and a half)

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Today (11:05p)
Just get in here, Barry

Iris probably shouldn't have invited Barry over. He's got a super villain to fight, a particle accelerator to turn off so he can save Central City all over again — and yet, here he is, psyching himself up on the other side of her bedroom door.

He used to bounce on the balls of his feet when they were younger. Rock a few times before he knocked, and normally she heard the squeak of the floor board beneath him and knew to at least look like she wasn't waiting for him to show up.

Like, when she broke up with Darren Peterson in tenth grade, and she spent an entire day in bed with her journal, ripping out pages and blacking out words until it all seemed a little less like she was wasting her whole life on some guy who wouldn't even message her back on AIM.

Barry had rocked outside her door at least four times that day before he finally knocked and entered bearing gifts. He'd brought a fan to blow away the Sharpie smell, a pan of brownies with pretzels crumbled on top, and a lighter — in case she wanted to burn something.

But this Barry — present day Barry who loves her just as much and really does have better things he could be doing — just rocks once, and he comes in empty handed.

His left hand lingers in his pocket, hovering over his phone as if she'll change her mind. Choose to text him instead. It might be easier to text him, to keep up this little wall between what she says and what she looks like saying them. But she kind of doesn't even feel like talking, if that makes sense. She doesn't even want her wine. She just… she doesn't know exactly, she just wants.

Barry twists the doorknob again in his hand.

"Should I, uh, grab a glass too?"

He keeps his tone light, which almost makes her smile. He's trying at least. He's always trying.

Iris shakes her head. "Wine's a little too bitter tonight."

Makes her a little too loopy and loose, like writing a blog post on private and knowing that no one else will ever read it and no one would really hold her accountable for anything she says. Like standing on the roof with the first proof of the impossible and knowing that if she just trusts the Flash, he can lead her to answers. He can save the city and Barry's dad and finally give Barry that light in his eyes all the time.

Of course, the Flash didn't really do all that, and private blog posts typically get deleted, and bottles of wine just lead to hangovers and a craving for something a little sweeter to balance out the acidity.

He really should've brought brownies. Or something. Cookies, Cheez-Its, a way to go back a year to when the impossible was still that and everything didn't hurt so much.

"I—" She sits up a little further on the bed. "Just sit with me?"

He does. Crossing the room in a few steps, he bounces down at the foot of her bed. Like they used to do after confirming Joe was asleep, back when they'd alternate whose room was the secret planning base for the night.

They used to plot how to break his dad out of prison, or prove the existence of the Man in Yellow. Mostly, they fell asleep in the wrong room and scrambled back to the right places when they heard Joe's shower turn on in the morning.

"Just sit?" Barry repeats. "No talking? No nothing?"

She shrugs.

It shouldn't be hard to not talk. They'd done it enough recently. But at the same time, that might be the problem. They've gotten better at being friends from a distance, which works as an adaptation to their situation but doesn't exactly make it easy to actually be together now. Because now — and most times — she looks at him and she sees the ghost of the smirk he gives beneath the Flash mask. The way his jaw stayed stationary while the rest of his face blurred, while the whole of the world warped to fit his lies.

Secrets.

Secret identity.

(Lies, but she really is trying to move on from that.)

"How could he just…." Iris stops. She tries again. "How could Eddie just…. I told Dad about him. I moved out of the house and threatened all of my relationships, even questioned our relationship, for him, and he just… left."

Now, she knows that maybe Eddie needed the space, or maybe Eddie wanted to get away from the weird kidnapping superpower drama, but he's the first serious relationship that Iris has ever had. He's the only guy she's changed her life around for, but she guesses he's not okay with not being the last. He's terrified that maybe she'll give in to the future and be with Barry. That she'll wake up one day, look across the room at her best friend, and go oh.

Barry clears his throat, and she glances back over to him. He says, "One of these days, he's going to remember all of the great times he had with you, Iris. He's going to picture everything that could've come next — the amazing reunion, the second chance at the perfect proposal," and here's where Barry gets that glint in his eye as the corner of his lips turns up. Where Barry reveals a glimpse at a canine tooth and stares into Iris like he sees that same future that everyone else seems so sure of.

He says, "The brush of his fingers against the veil at your wedding — if you want a veil, of course, maybe we're beyond fake secrets and hiding parts of ourselves for traditional values. Either way, he's going to regret this, Iris, and the only thing you have to worry about, or drink about, is what you might be doing when he finally comes around."

Depends on how long it takes Eddie. If it's tonight, then she's here with Barry, talking and totally ruining this perfect night. Tomorrow, she'll probably be at STAR Labs if they don't try to kick her out to protect her. Next week, she should be back at work, but after that… who knows?

She leans back into her pillows.

"I really did love him."

Barry nods. "I know."

She sinks a little further down. Somehow that makes her throat tighten up a bit, makes her eyes start to water. She tries swallowing it down, but that only makes her want to cough and cry and maybe take the wine back out of the freezer and chug it all down.

"Could you come up here? Next to me?"

Barry slides up on the bed without another thought. Settles in next to her, and she furrows her forehead into his endless neck. Something gets caught in his throat too, and he clears it again. She follows his lead, and he shifts so he can get his arm out and around her shoulders.

She tries to joke. "You making a move, Flash?"

But he doesn't seem to get it. "Only when you want me to," he says. As if giving her more to think about will help in this situation. As if remembering that this amazing guy will probably never be over her makes losing Eddie any easier.

Why couldn't she be the type of girl who can bury her feelings into another a person? Why does she have to care so much?

Barry tells her, "It's okay to be a mess right now. I'm not going anywhere. And neither is Wells, so I've got all the time in the world."

When she glances back up, there's a different little grin nestled into Barry's lips.

"Humble brag?"

The grin turns into a full on smile. "Come on, Iris, he's locked up in his own invention, by metas that he helped create. This can't get more, like… symmetrical? I don't know… it's really almost perfect."

So is he.

Or he will be.

After all, she and Barry are the future, right?

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