Disclaimer: I don't own Flash, or Cell and Molecular Biology: Concepts and Experiments by Gerald Karp.
Notes: Omg, thank you so much for the reviews! I was really overwhelmed by the response for the last chapter. You guys are the best! Sooo here's chapter 3. Sorry I don't update fast, I've been so busy in school since we're approaching the end of the sem. Anyway, I'll see you all at the end (please read the endnotes).
"Linda?" he said. "What are you doing here?"
For a few moments, the significance of the name completely escaped Caitlin. To be fair, she wasn't very good with names, because, in the first place, she didn't meet a lot of people, and of the people that she did meet, there were even fewer that she encountered regularly. She only had a total of two friends in college—who were incidentally her only friends in high school—and then there was Bette, and Hartley, and other male acquaintances from her course whose conversational arsenal consisted of video games, hate on the latest Apple device, and thinly-veiled references to someone's porn stash.
So, yes, she was sure that none of them were named Linda.
And then she realised that the fact that another living human being had witnessed her in Barry's jacket should be sufficient cause for alarm—she was going to ruin her anonymity (and maybe Barry's reputation, if he cared for things like that) if this got out…
She gulped and furtively tried to make herself inconspicuous by slouching further into the jacket.
"Barry," said the steely-edged voice behind her, "can we talk?"
The speaker's tone indicated that she wouldn't take no for an answer despite having asked a question, and something suddenly clicked in Caitlin's mind. Snippets of her conversation with Barry under the bleachers came back to her: Geez, she's worse than Linda—Linda's my ex and the manager of the track team—well, you're both bossy—
She winced. So Linda was Barry's bossy ex. No wonder Barry was on edge all of a sudden…
Caitlin fervently wished for a black hole. And that it would suck her in and that she would disappear from this earth, preferably forever.
"Can it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something—"
"No, we're not," Caitlin hissed.
"—oh, by the way, this is Caitlin."
Caitlin stiffened and gave him a glare that promised a slow death.
Sorry, he mouthed. Help me out here.
I will maim you, she mouthed back, before turning to face Linda. Said woman was smiling at her in a curiously strained way, but even then she was still very pretty (well, it wasn't as if she expected a former girlfriend of Barry's to be any less gorgeous): She was sporting a bob and had subtle make-up on, and she was wearing one of those fashionable, form-fitting, one-piece top-and-pants things that would have looked like pajamas on Caitlin on the off-chance that she would ever wear them—
Caitlin realized with a start that she had mentally been cataloging Linda's physical characteristics in conjunction to her own—Linda's chic bob versus her straight, mousy hair; Linda's confident posture versus her couch-potato slouch; Linda's smooth, rosy skin versus the rash burning on her pasty neck…
She knew that she was no head-turner, but this had never really bothered her. She went through high school relatively unscathed by braces and pimples and bullies, and so her physical appearance had never been the source of significant teenage angst. In fact, there was only one time that she did consider the plainness of her appearance slightly bothersome, and it was a few days before Prom. She consulted Felicity about it and in response her friend had asked, "Cait, what would you rather be: pretty or smart?"
Caitlin had felt the question unfair to pretty people, and had secretly thought what if I want to be both, would that be so bad? But she understood the wisdom in Felicity's rhetorical question, and that was the end of the matter.
But now the cold feeling of inadequacy was coiling and tightening around her chest. She felt this way when she didn't get As, but even then she knew she could do something about it, like study harder. But in this case, she knew there wasn't much she could do with her physical appearance. And it wasn't only physical appearance—Linda suddenly seemed to possess all the traits she lacked: Linda was prettier, wittier, more confident, more sociable—and the intelligence that Caitlin had always taken secret pride in seemed stale and paltry in comparison to what she imagined as Linda's vibrant personality.
But then, why should it matter? Caitlin had been around gorgeous, confident girls before—Oliver's social circle, for example, from that party Felicity had dragged her to—and while she was very much aware that she was often underdressed and under-ornamented compared to them, the comparison remained a detached observation, instead of an observation internalised and ruminated on until it festered into insecurity.
Was this because she wanted to be what Linda had been to Barry, but felt it was impossible…?
Caitlin shook her head and quickly attributed the flaws in her thought process to the microbes that were burrowing into her skin—they were probably secreting some chemicals that were interfering with her brain chemistry.
She tried not to think of Barry's neurotransmitter joke by reciting the periodic table backwards.
"Hi, I'm Linda Park."
"Hello," Caitlin said.
Linda held out her hand, and Caitlin very reluctantly took it. She didn't know if it was just her imagination or if she just wasn't used to shaking hands, but she swore that Linda's clasp was brutal. "I'm sorry. It was rude of me to interrupt—"
"Oh, not at all," Caitlin cut in, at the same time that Barry said, "Caitlin was just showing me—"
They both fell silent and looked at each other, and Barry had a look of such naked desperation on his face that Caitlin came to the conclusion that he was a terrible, terrible liar and could not lie to save his ass from his ex. In the face of an impending confrontation, all his earlier glibness had curiously disappeared.
Linda prompted, "Caitlin was showing you…?"
"—a video of turtles copulating," she blurted out.
Barry's brows shot up, while Linda knotted hers in confusion.
Well. Caitlin figured she couldn't very well say "the rash on my neck", because that might make Linda suspicious of what else she might have shown to Barry under his jacket, so in a fit of panic her mind had reached for the day-old memory of Cisco saying, Cait, I have to show you this video of turtles copulating, I swear it's the best conversation-starter ever…
"Turtles… copulating?" Linda said dubiously.
"Yeah, it's, ah, for our next class," Barry supplied. "It's, ah, very fascinating. Hey Caitlin, do you have it?"
"Yes," Caitlin said, fishing her phone from her jeans. She should probably thank Cisco for downloading the video on her phone yesterday, but she hadn't watched the video yet since he had been bothering her while she was studying for lab. But how bad could it be? It was probably a very scientific, educational clip…
When she pressed play, however, and peculiar turtle sex noises came on in full volume, she became a devout believer of Murphy's law. She cringed as she watched Linda's brows inch slowly towards her hairline and Barry slowly turning pink from trying to hold in his laughter.
Bastard. She petulantly decided that she wasn't going to stand around for the next two minutes watching slow turtle sex and listening to the accompanying turtle grunts and moans with the boy she had very ambivalent feelings towards and his gorgeous ex.
She gave Barry a pointed look. "Anyway, Barry, I'll just send you the video," she said.
He seemed to be determined to drive Linda away, because he responded with a pleading, puppy-dog look and a "Can I just copy it from you now? The file's too big…"
She avoided his eyes. "It's searchable on YouTube. And, I, um, have to use the comfort room," she added hastily. "Goodbye."
"Okay," Linda said. From the look on her face Caitlin guessed that she wasn't convinced by their sorry attempt at an excuse. "Nice meeting you."
"You too. I mean, nice meeting you, as well."
As soon as Caitlin ducked into the comfort of a cubicle, she heard Linda accuse, "Barry, you asshole, you've been avoiding me," to which Barry responded, "Look, Linda, I don't want to fight with you…" Their conversation resumed in lower tones, much to Caitlin's relief. She felt uneasy on eavesdropping on anyone's private business, especially if it involved romance and volatile emotions. Those were the messiest private businesses.
She removed the jacket and pulled her own shirt on. She folded Barry's jacket carefully so that the name ALLEN was hidden from view and tried to dispel the sudden irrationally sentimental attachment she had developed for it.
Before she could slip out, however, Linda started raising her voice, which seemed to agitate Barry because he started raising his voice as well, and Caitlin wisely decided that the best course of action was to sit on the lid of the toilet and wait for the storm to pass. This meant, however, that she had become a reluctant, unintentional audience of their drama, and even if she tried distracting herself by reading on protein conformations in her copy of Cell and Molecular Biology: Concepts and Experiments on her phone, she couldn't completely drown out their conversation.
"—if you're not dating her—"
"—what's it to you if I'm dating her—"
Caitlin coughed.
"—is that why she has your jacket—"
"—I can lend my jacket to whomever I want—"
"—wait, so you are dating her? Why've you been keeping her from everyone?"
After a short pause, Barry replied, sounding strangely weary, "No, I'm not, okay? She's my lab partner. I just spilled stuff on her shirt and she needed something to change into."
"Are you sure that's it? Because there's something in how you look at her—"
Caitlin choked. She was convinced that there was some blockage in her trachea.
And then Barry, icily: "Cut the crap, Linda. Why did you want to talk?"
Linda said something inaudible, and then, raising her voice, "—god, Barry, would it kill you to return one call—"
"—I messaged you, didn't I—"
"—yeah, an hour before the fucking interview!"
"—and I told you months ago that I didn't want to take interviews anymore—"
"—but that one was different, that interview was going to launch your professional career—"
"—no, Linda, you're doing this for your career, not mine!"
"How can you say that? My career is in journalism, not in building yours! You idiot, of course I'm doing this for you!"
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, Linda, but don't you see, I don't want running to be my career—"
"—but you're born for it, Barry, all the sportswriters say so, and you've wanted it since you were a kid—"
"—but not since what happened to my mother!"
There was a deafening silence. The ribbon model of ribonuclease that Caitlin had pretended to be perusing lay forgotten on her lap, and suddenly she was hyperaware of the feel of Barry's cotton jacket against her palms. What happened to his mother?
Linda was speaking now, rapidly, soothing and contrite, but Barry seemed to be resisting her attempts at an apology. At a name that slipped from his lips, however—Iris, if Caitlin heard correctly—Linda launched into another accusation, and Barry was retaliating again, was saying, "Not this again, can we take this argument somewhere else, please," and before she knew it, they were walking away, their voices were fading, and all was quiet outside.
Caitlin emerged from the cubicle feeling very confused. Barry Allen was proving to be a very difficult person to read—he occupied the label of a popular jock, but he also had an unassuming, avid interest in science; he was playful and confident in his merciless teasing of her, but he seemed to lose his confidence and glibness when it came to high-conflict situations. And then there was the angry and anguished Barry when he mentioned his mother…
She knew that she shouldn't be surprised at the contradictory portraits he presented—people weren't always defined by a single set of traits, after all—but the polar shifts in his manner still unsettled her. And, to her horror, she realised that this made him even more appealing, and that she had never been as intrigued by any other person as much as she was by him, and she was possessed by a pressing desire to talk to him, to get to know him—
Frightened at this realisation, she shoved Barry's jacket into her backpack—she wasn't going to find him and indulge such silly impulses, and she supposed she could return it on their next lab session—and fled to the dorms.
(12:52) hey frosty
(12:52) re lab what happened
(12:52) wasnt able to make it
(12:53) No worries
(12:53) You were not missed
(12:54) tina personally emailed me for an interview
(12:54) but it was just a formality
(12:55) shes already letting me intern with them
(12:57) You do know that Dr. Wells is our professor, right
(12:57) yeah so
(12:58) And that they're rivals
(12:58) yeah so
(12:59) youre just jealous
(13:01) I'll have you know that Dr. Wells invited me to work on my thesis at STAR Labs
(13:01) yeah so
(13:02) twinkle labs is a second-class research facility
(13:02) but then again perfect for a second-rate student like you
(13:02) Jerk
(13:03) If you're done flattering yourself
(13:03) Maybe you'd want an answer to your question
(13:03) go on
(13:04) We're not partners anymore
(13:04) Dr. Wells paired me off with someone else
(13:04) what
(13:04) the fuck
(13:04) whos gonna be my partner
(13:05) dont tell me its bivolo
(13:05) my IQ will fucking plummet to 110
(13:05) IQ scores aren't infectious
(13:05) Get over yourself
(13:05) or woodward
(13:06) thinks he has a future in mb just because his parents donated the fucking science complex
(13:06) fuck
(13:06) if its woodward im done w that class
(13:06) He would reciprocate your feelings
(13:07) Fortunately for everyone
(13:07) You're working alone
(13:07) what
(13:08) oh
(13:08) great
(13:08) no idiots then
(13:09) Except yourself
(13:09) ha ha
(13:10) hilarious, frosty
(13:10) you have a real future in stand-up
(13:10) you know
(13:11) bars might pay more than twinkle labs
(13:11) and more drunk people means
(13:12) an infinitesimal increase in the prb
(13:12) *probability
(13:12) of you getting laid
(13:14) Hartley
(13:14) This is why you don't have friends
(13:14) and i should care because
Caitlin had never been more thankful for Hartley than she was when she walked back to the dorm, because his texts had provided some respite from thinking about her feelings. Her gratitude only lasted a few seconds, though—he only had to continue speaking for her to remember why she disliked him so much.
Felicity was nowhere to be found when she arrived. A cursory look at a printed copy of their schedules informed Caitlin that her roommate was in class, and would not be out for another twenty minutes. She figured she could wait that long before having lunch—today was one of the rare days that Felicity wouldn't have lunch with Oliver, since he was out of town—so she settled in front of her laptop and decided to consult her mother about her rash.
Technically, however, her mother couldn't diagnose the rash; she could only rule out roundworms as a probable cause for it. Her mother was in fact a rather prominent nematologist, owing partly to her uncanny obsession with said roundworms from a young age—more precisely, from the time a doctor had surgically removed a frightening number of it from her intestines when she was an adolescent—and often traveled to different countries to either discover new species or to eliminate the ones that were detrimental to the staple crops of a community.
Caitlin conceded that her mother was quite brilliant, but she still had an unshakeable, irrational belief that the preserved roundworms her mother kept around the house had somehow contributed to her extreme sensitivity to allergens.
She went online. As far as she could remember, her mother was home at the moment, because she was supposed to finish writing a paper for Nematology due next week. Her mother's icon indicated that she was offline, but Caitlin knew that she was a shameless procrastinator and thus was most probably online and browsing for baby videos on YouTube, so Caitlin went ahead and sent her a message.
caitlin_snow93: Greetings, birthgiver
worm_whisperer58: Greetings , daughter cell ! To what do I owe the PLEASURE of this ELECTRONIC message ? :-) :-) :-)
caitlin_snow93: I have a lakewater rash
caitlin_snow93: I was wondering if perhaps one of your other children caused it
caitlin_snow93 sent a picture.
worm_whisperer58: Oh , it's a NORMAL rash . MAYBE blue algae . And here I was HOPING that it would be a NEW SPECIES of nematode ! :-( :-( :-(
caitlin_snow93: Sometimes I doubt that you care for me
caitlin_snow93: And your indiscriminate capslocking is extremely distracting
worm_whisperer58: What is "CAPSLOCKING" ? It seems VERY LONG for an acronym ! BTW , I just learned LAMAO from Felicity yesterday ! :-D :-D :-D Am I a COOL MOMMA or WHAT ?
caitlin_snow93: What? Why did you speak with Felicity?
worm_whisperer58: Oops! :-o :-o :-o It was supposed to be a SECRET ! LAMAO !
caitlin_snow93: Mother, it's LMAO
caitlin_snow93: What should be a secret?
worm_whisperer58: All I will say is , I am SO GLAD that I can look forward to having BEAUTIFUL GRANDCHILDREN ! ;-) ;-) ;-)
caitlin_snow93: Oh my god
caitlin_snow93: WHAT DID SHE TELL YOU
worm_whisperer58: HE HE HE ;-) ;-) ;-)
caitlin_snow93: I am going to kill her
worm_whisperer58: WHAT ! Can you do it AFTER THANKSGIVING ? I need someone to ELIMINATE the INSECT in my phone !
caitlin_snow93: You mean bug?
caitlin_snow93: Anyway I have to go. Felicity should be out by now
caitlin_snow93: Go work on your paper
caitlin_snow93 is now offline.
worm_whisperer58: BUT I don't feel like WORKING ! :-( :-( :-(
worm_whisperer58: Caitlin ?
worm_whisperer58: Does this mean you are NO LONGER DISCOVERABLE on the INTERWEBS ?
worm_whisperer58: Oh dear , I shall DISPATCH an SMS re medicine for your RASH !
worm_whisperer58: BTW , no worries ! It is NOT FATAL and WILL NOT affect your ABILITY to have my GRANDCHILDREN ! ;-) ;-) ;-)
Caitlin stepped out of the dorms and immediately saw Felicity in front the vendo machine at the other side of the building. She narrowed her eyes at her friend and turned to walk towards her, but she was startled by a hand on her shoulder and an all-too-familiar voice exclaiming her name.
"Oh my god," she hissed, whipping around and glaring at him. "Is it a habit of yours to creep up on people like that?"
Barry grinned at her. "No," he said. "But I could make it a habit if everyone reacted like you did."
Caitlin didn't catch his response. She had caught sight of Felicity taking a gulp of her purchased drink while Barry was speaking, and was about to turn to face them—"Oh god, she's heading this way," she said. "Quick, hide—"
"Wha—who's she?"
"Shh!" Caitlin admonished, pulling Barry into a shadowy alcove on the side of the building. If Felicity caught sight of them when she had turned to face their general direction, Caitlin was sure she would never hear the end of it. And it would only give her more fodder to feed her mother…
Caitlin contemplated her course of action. She should probably confront Felicity now and tell Barry to stay put for awhile (why was he here, though?)—she highly suspected that Felicity sent her mother the video, and if she did Caitlin wanted to make sure that she didn't send it to anyone else—but at the same time, stepping out of the alcove now would look very, very suspicious, since from Felicity's point of view it would seem like she appeared out of thin air, so she might actually investigate it. On the other hand, it seemed very unlikely that Felicity would come around the side of the building on her own initiative…
Caitlin sighed. She would have to wait it out.
"You know," Barry remarked lightly, "We seem to have established a pattern of meeting in small, dark places."
Caitlin scoffed. "Twice hardly makes a pattern."
He shrugged. "Well, if you insist on technicalities, we could schedule a third time. How does a broom closet sound?"
She glared at him. "You've been deliberately misunderstanding my words since this morning—"
"There's also the emergency stairwell in the science complex—"
"—but the emergency stairwell isn't even small—"
"—I assure you, Caitlin, neither am I—"
"—oh bleeding—if you pursue that train of thought I'll—I'll slap you—"
"—ooh, where? Not too hard, I hope—"
"—ugh, your persistent innuendoing should be a sue-able form of harassment—"
"—whoa there, if I'm the one harassing you, care to tell me why you dragged me to this shady corner, holding my arm and threatening to slap me?"
Caitlin blushed and quickly withdrew her hand.
He gave her a smug, benevolent grin.
Caitlin vaguely noted that he had once again assumed his playful, confident persona. She was rather curious about where he came from and what he was doing here, but she decided to refrain from beginning that conversation. After hearing how sensitive the content of their arguments were, she knew it wasn't her place to pry; and besides, based on their first meeting, she supposed that he would disclose the story himself after some time.
She took a calming breath and cleared her throat. "My apologies."
"Apology partially accepted."
"Partially?"
"You'll receive my full forgiveness when I hear the reason for my abduction."
"I am not abducting you. I'm protecting myself. And you, I suppose," she added reluctantly.
"And what exactly do I need protecting from?"
"My crazy roommate." Caitlin risked a peek at the front steps of the dorm and found Felicity chatting animatedly with Oliver's sister, Thea. "If she sees us together with her own eyes she's going to aggressively set us up, which would be undesirable for us both."
"And why would that be so undesirable?" he said, leaning back against the wall, his knees brushing against hers when he did. Caitlin realized belatedly that they were uncomfortably close—the alcove was quite small, and they only fit if they stood face to face, backs against the walls. "Do you find me undesirable?"
She coughed. "Quite," she lied.
"Aw, really? So if you rate me from 0 to 5, I would be a 0?"
"I refrain from objectifying people based on a numerical scale," she replied evasively.
"Oookay," he drawled. He shifted his weight to his left leg, and again Caitlin felt it brush against her own. She was suddenly very aware of every little movement he made, from the tapping of his finger on his forearms, to the tilt of his head, to his lips forming words… "Just so you know, I would give you a 4…" he said, and added with an impish grin, "…out of 10."
"Hey," she protested despite herself. She wondered if he would rate Linda a 10, and she immediately berated herself for the thought. "I think that's rather unmerited."
"Oh, so objectification is okay now when it comes to you?"
"I was protesting at your use of the numerical scale, not the score."
"I can reconsider your score," he said good-naturedly, entirely unconvinced of her protest. "I'd say you're a 4 out of 5, but easily a 5 when you smile."
Caitlin's cheeks flamed, and he added with a grin, tilting her chin up with a finger, "But then, definitely a 6 when you blush."
Caitlin could not look him in the eye. The bottom of her chin, the part he'd touched, still felt like it was burning even after he had pulled his hand away, and he was so terribly close, and she couldn't stop glancing at his hands—
"Hey, Caitlin, are you okay?"
"Yes," she clipped, shutting her eyes and pressing her back firmly against the wall. She was scrambling for elements—hydrogen, helium—helium—helium—
Barry seemed to sense her discomfort, because he also flattened himself against the wall, and wisely pursued a new topic. "So, turtles copulating? Really?"
Okay, turtles copulating. She could function with turtles copulating. "It was a video my friend showed me," she said. "Just to clarify—no, I do not randomly Google turtles copulating."
He laughed. "Thanks, though. And I'm really sorry about that. Linda and I didn't really break up on good terms." But instead of expounding, he simply said, "Oh, by the way, is my jacket still with you?"
Caitlin started. "Oh, um, it's in my bag. I'll have it laundered first—"
"There's really no need," he said dismissively. "I'm not afraid of your cooties."
"I wasn't aware I was speaking to a preschooler."
"Well, technically, your rash has cooties, so by transitive property, you have cooties."
"It's caused by blue algae, not cooties."
"Oooh, I have a joke on algae—"
"No," Caitlin said firmly. She was not going to give him an opportunity to endear himself to her. "Do you need your jacket soon?"
"You're no fun," he sulked. "But yes, I'll be needing it in two days. We have a meet—oooh, come watch the meet!" he exclaimed. "You could give the jacket to me then—"
"Wouldn't it be easier to meet on campus before your meet?"
"Oh, fine," he said. "You should watch, though. Support the team and all. And, you know, me, if you feel like it."
It suddenly occurred to Caitlin that she didn't know how much time had passed. She peeked from the corner again and found that Felicity and Thea were gone. "The coast is clear," she announced, quickly stepping out of the alcove.
"Am I finally free to go?" he said, easily pushing his body off the wall of the alcove with his hands. He turned to face her in the sunshine, and Caitlin vaguely wondered what sort of allele combinations produced the color of his eyes, because they really were remarkable.
"Well, am I fully forgiven?" she returned.
"Touché," he said. "Hey, come to the meet?"
"No," she said, to which he grinned and responded, "Great! I'll see you then!"
Caitlin frowned as she watched him walk away. She'd gotten the impression from his argument with Linda that he didn't want to pursue running anymore, but he really did seem enthusiastic about it… And her curiosity was more than a little piqued by how Felicity and Google talked about him. She wondered if he really was as good as everyone claimed he was, if he really did enjoy running, if there would be television coverage, what role Linda played as manager of the team…
The prospect of validating or disconfirming popular opinion—and figuring Barry Allen out in the process—had admittedly intrigued Caitlin enough to consider going, after all.
Notes: Hello! Tbh, this chapter was really hard to write! It was mostly because of the Linda scene—I decided to put that in in the previous chapter because I planned to delve into Barry's and Caitlin's pasts later on in the story (which would mean a more serious/dramatic turn and a lengthier fic). But after thinking long and hard about it, I decided that I won't do that anymore, since I'd already framed this as a lighthearted romance. I felt it would be false fic advertising if I suddenly made it all dramatic, so I'm keeping this fluffy and only around 7-10 chapters. But then I already had the Linda scene written out, plus the one with Caitlin's mom, so I decided keep it anyway.
So… Yeah, I'm very sorry if you expected pure Snowbarry interactions like the two previous chapters, but more to come in the next ones. At least clearer to me where this is going. Also, I'd like to know what did you feel about the introduction of other characters (Hartley, Linda), and the more serious Caitlin with her feelings? Yay or nay? Tell me what you think, I would really appreciate feedback!
P. S. This chapter was partly inspired by the text form in provocative envy's Harry Potter fic "Punch Drunk". I never knew I shipped Harry with Pansy until I read that. Check it out if you're an HP fan as well!