Notes: Hi I AM SO SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I had a ton of requirements, so I didn't have the headspace to plan this fic. Anyhoo, I really appreciate the reviews—I loved reading each and every one! Thank you to Duchess Emma for her comment on Barry because it made me think on where I'm going with his character, and Raquel for asking how Barry was able to find Caitlin (I almost forgot to pick up on that detail… lol). Also thanks for the very sweet reviews from two Guests (the ones who said they reread this fic while waiting for an update), Lina, and anskyfighter—you guys motivated me to get writing! Yeah, so that's all for now. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I think it's the longest to date.
After the alcove incident with Barry, Caitlin returned to their dorm room. She tried to dispel memories of their interaction by outlining the lecture she was to give Felicity about not getting her mother worked up with fanciful speculations on her non-existent love life. She supposed that withholding the most recent information on her interactions with Barry would be wise, at least until Felicity's matchmaking itch faded.
But then, that was as unlikely as sprouting another head, and it really was too much to hope that Felicity would never uncover the latest developments. In fact Caitlin wasn't ten minutes back in their room when Felicity discovered the jacket.
It happened like this. When Caitlin returned, Felicity was on her laptop, watching a YouTube tutorial on how to sew. Caitlin had nearly forgotten that she had tasked Felicity to mend her torn shirt for an equivalent of three points, because Felicity, with all her tech genius, was no domestic goddess—she'd nearly failed Home Economics in high school because she couldn't manage a running stitch, and had since developed a special aversion for it that, in Caitlin's opinion, was on par with her own aversion to physical touch.
Caitlin couldn't help feeling a little smug. "So how's your sewing lesson going?"
"I hate you," Felicity said glumly. "Seriously, the only thing motivating me right now is that the sooner I get this done, the sooner I can dare you to do something with Barry Allen…"
"Mmm. Speaking of Barry Allen," Caitlin said, feigning nonchalance, "did you, by any chance, send that video of us to my mother?"
Felicity's back stiffened. That was a dead giveaway.
"Oh my god, you traitor! You know what a nightmare she is when it comes to dating—"
"In my defense, she bribed me with her special pudding on Thanksgiving!"
"Felicity, she always serves her special pudding on Thanksgiving, with or without the intel."
"Well, okay, so maybe I didn't need to be bribed," Felicity conceded, "but I just needed to share it with someone! Cait, this is the first time you've shown remote interest in anyone, and your mom was getting worried that her grandchildren would get their father from a sperm bank…"
"A sperm bank?"
"Yeah, she mentioned you might want a scientist's sperm, like the one who sequenced the human genome—"
"I doubt Venter would donate his sperm to such a dubious enterprise."
"—whatever, but your mom personally preferred actor sperm like Pierce Brosnan's, except Pierce Brosnan might be too old for you so I suggested Benedict Cumberbatch, but then we haven't confirmed if their sperm is available in the market because she didn't want to make an account on the website yet. Hey, the word 'sperm' sounds weird, doesn't it? Sperm. Sperm. Sperm. For the essence of masculinity it doesn't sound very masculine…"
Caitlin massaged her temples. "This is ridiculous. I mean, how would you feel if I had told your mother how you and Oliver really met?"
Felicity squirmed. "Well—"
"'Hello, Donna, Felicity and Oliver didn't really meet in class, the first time they actually talked was when she part-timed as an assistant IT for his gym and he came to her to have his laptop fixed—'"
"—oh my god, no need to relive the humiliation—"
"'—and she asked him if he really did have eight-pack abs because all the other employees were talking about it—'"
"—hey, that was a dare from you and besides HUMILIATION IS RELIVED AND POINT IS TAKEN—"
"'—and he was all Would you like to see it for yourself and she was all Yes please may I have a picture I assure you this is for purely scientific purposes—'"
Felicity hurled a pillow at her, which Caitlin only narrowly avoided.
"Hey, I'm the injured party here."
Felicity sulked. "Fine, fine, I won't do it again."
"Swear it on Oliver's eight-pack."
"I swear that as long as Oliver has his eight-pack I will not breathe another word to your mother," she intoned. "Give me a break. I'm already learning how to make a running stitch here. And from a dude with prettier hands than mine, no less. Not to be sexist or anything. Are we having lunch?"
Satisfied with Felicity's concession, Caitlin generously decided to prepare their food. She moved to their stash of instant noodles. "Seafood or chili beef?"
"Seafood, please," Felicity said. "By the way, where's your shirt? I gotta practice my new skills."
"In my cabinet. White plastic bag."
There was a sound of rummaging while Caitlin gauged the amount of water she needed to boil. She startled when Felicity's muted complaints turned into a shriek, and her friend stumbled into the pantry, holding a white plastic bag. "HOLY MOTHER CAITLIN SNOW, THIS ISN'T YOUR SHIRT!" she accused, pulling the offending article of clothing out. Caitlin blanched when she saw the red-and-gold material instead of the cheap black cotton of her shirt. "EXPLAIN. NOW."
And thus began the Spanish Inquisition.
After they had lunch Felicity finally let her go, if only because she had to purchase the ointment for her allergy before her night class. But Felicity made it clear that she thought Barry Allen was flirting with her. Caitlin told her, mostly for the sake of argument, that that was a ridiculous assessment and that he seemed more like the type whose friendliness was frequently misconstrued for flirtatious advances, but then she didn't want to dwell on it because she had the uneasy feeling that she might prefer Felicity's hypothesis.
There was, however, a piece of information that she did dwell on: Felicity knew something about his mother. "I'd nearly forgotten about that," her friend mused. "She passed away last year, I think, before he became crazy famous. People were posting their condolences on his wall or tweeting their support for the Allens. I don't remember the details, though…"
Now, after her class and alone in their room, Caitlin was having a strange dilemma. One of her top pet peeves, second only to a messy desktop, was not knowing something when it was in her power to know it, and she knew that she could easily look through his Facebook wall to find out what happened to his mother. But then she didn't know if that was ethical, because even if the information was readily available he did seem reluctant to disclose it…
She stared at her Facebook home page. To stalk or not to stalk? To stalk or not to stalk…
To compensate for the silliness of such a question Caitlin attended to school-related work first, joining the groups she needed to join and downloading the syllabi that she needed for the next day. But after that she was back to hovering uncertainly over the search bar.
That is, until she was distracted by a new friend request… From none other than Barry Allen.
For reasons that she did not want to analyse at the moment, she felt suddenly nervous. What was the norm for accepting friend requests again? Is she required to wait ten minutes so she wouldn't seem too eager or too readily available? Or was that replying to messages? Bleeding Facebook etiquette. She was only marginally better at it than her mother, who still couldn't understand the difference between a PM and a wall post and was thus blocked indefinitely as a precautionary measure. She didn't want her wall to be flooded with embarrassing baby pictures every Thursday, thank you very much.
Caitlin had wasted approximately three minutes waffling in indecision, and eventually she figured three was as good as ten, so she accepted his friend request. Almost immediately after she did he sent her a message.
Barry Allen: hi :)
Caitlin panicked. Oh my god, what now? What does that smiley even mean? Is it supposed to be flirty or is it standard for him to greet people this way? Why does he even want to talk to me? I mean, we've spent a whole class together, what else is there to talk about? Does he always communicate with his lab partners right after an experiment…?
Caitlin's head hurt. Never had an innocuous 'hi' and a smiley seemed more difficult to decipher than Schrödinger's equation.
Barry Allen: you there?
She took a deep breath. No need to panic. He was just a boy. In the larger scheme of things their only difference was that he had a Y chromosome. No big deal.
Caitlin Snow: Yes
Caitlin Snow: What do you need
Barry Allen: wow
Barry Allen: can i not chat with you for the heck of it
Caitlin Snow: In which case you are chatting with me because you are in need of my company
Barry Allen: well if you put it that way
Barry Allen: i can agree that i do need something ;)
Caitlin Snow: I don't believe you
Caitlin Snow: Your use of ;) is suspicious
Barry Allen: what whyyy
Barry Allen: how is it suspicious…
Caitlin Snow: A ;) conveys that something is meant to be taken as a joke
Barry Allen: just bec its a joke doesnt mean its insincere :p
Caitlin Snow: That's another emoticon that conveys that something is meant to be taken as a joke
Barry Allen: well, i say that it conveys that im teasing you
Barry Allen: :p
Barry Allen: or come to think of it
Barry Allen: it could also be a flirty emoticon :-?
Caitlin Snow: I wouldn't know
Barry Allen: you could attach :p or ;) to anything and it would sound vaguely flirty
Barry Allen: :p is teasing stealth flirty
Barry Allen: like
Barry Allen: would you like some jam on your bread? :)
Barry Allen: is different from
Barry Allen: would you like some jam on your bread? :p
Barry Allen: which is still different from
Barry Allen: would you like some jam on your bread? ;)
Caitlin Snow: Under what circumstances would you have to ask someone through chat whether they want jam on their bread
Barry Allen: well
Barry Allen: im having jam on my bread now
Barry Allen: want some? ;)
Caitlin Snow: …
Caitlin Snow: No
Barry Allen: its v orgasmic strawberry jam ;)
Caitlin Snow: That's very troublesome jam if you have an orgasm every time you eat it
Barry Allen: caitlin
Barry Allen: its a hyperbole -_-
Caitlin Snow: I'm aware of that
Caitlin Snow: I just dislike the term orgasmic
Caitlin Snow: As an adjective
Caitlin Snow: And in general I suppose
Barry Allen: ah
Barry Allen: does this have something to do with you not liking to be touched
Barry Allen: and how orgasm connotes a lot of touching
Barry Allen: in the right places :p
Caitlin Snow: Well
Caitlin Snow: Yes
Barry Allen: but its quite an experience
Barry Allen: i bet if youve experienced it you would like the adjective…
Caitlin Snow: No
Caitlin Snow: I would rather not experience it
Barry Allen: ever? :o
Caitlin Snow: Ever
Barry Allen: not even if i walk you through the basics? ;)
Barry Allen: hahahahaha kidding kidding
Barry Allen: i can already imagine your reaction :p
Caitlin Snow: And what would that be
Barry Allen: you would be blushing?
Caitlin Snow: I am not
(She was.)
Caitlin Snow: I was just thinking of something that wouldn't be flirty regardless of the emoticon
(She wasn't.)
Barry Allen: sure :p
Caitlin Snow: Where I'm assuming flirty means hinting at sexual attraction
Barry Allen: go on
Caitlin Snow: Well
Caitlin Snow: "Nice weather today, isn't it? ;)"
Caitlin Snow: Could be an inside joke
Caitlin Snow: But it can't be flirtatious
Barry Allen: hm
Barry Allen: so you dont think weather can be flirty
Caitlin Snow: It's not
Barry Allen: challenge accepted :p
Barry Allen: wait let me think
Barry Allen: okay got it
Barry Allen: ask me how the weather is
Barry Allen: with the emoticon
Caitlin Snow: Why
Barry Allen: please :p
Caitlin Snow: …
Caitlin Snow: Nice weather today, isn't it? ;)
Barry Allen: its a bit cloudy…
Barry Allen: but i bet my sun can part your clouds ;)
Barry Allen: ;)
Barry Allen: ;)
Barry Allen: ;)
Barry Allen: ;) ;) ;)
Barry Allen: ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)
Caitlin Snow: …
Caitlin Snow: You just proved my point
Caitlin Snow: Not even your additional ;)'s make it flirty
Barry Allen: aw
Barry Allen: not even a lol
Barry Allen: or a :))?
Barry Allen: :(
Caitlin Snow: But then
Caitlin Snow: Maybe it isn't the emoticon
Caitlin Snow: So much as the attachment of possessive pronouns to the nouns
Caitlin Snow: E.g. Would you like sauce on those noodles
Caitlin Snow: Is quite different from
Caitlin Snow: Would you like my sauce on your noodles
Barry Allen: ooh, yes please ;)
Caitlin Snow: That was for purely illustrative purposes
Barry Allen: sure it was ;)
Caitlin Snow: Stop it
Barry Allen: if you say so ;)
Barry Allen: tho
Barry Allen: this is such a bizarre convo
Barry Allen: its like
Barry Allen: meta-flirting :-?
Barry Allen: cept theres no real flirting going on
Barry Allen: i mean youre not flirting w me are you
Caitlin Snow: No
Barry Allen: ok
Barry Allen: just to be clear
Barry Allen: im not either
Barry Allen: ;)
Barry Allen: kidding
Barry Allen: i mean kidding w the ;) part :))
At this point Caitlin felt so confused that she wanted to strangle him. So he himself had declared that he wasn't flirting with her (although in very ambiguous terms), which meant that he had no special romantic attraction to her, which meant that her assessment of his personality had been right—he used friendliness and flirtatiousness interchangeably. But why did she feel so disappointed for being right?
Caitlin Snow: Anyway there was a reason you began this conversation
Barry Allen: oh
Barry Allen: yeah
Barry Allen: wow i nearly forgot
Barry Allen: i was wondering when youre free
Barry Allen: on wed? so i can meet you for my jacket
Barry Allen: im free 530-830 and 130-330 :)
Caitlin Snow: 5:30 am?
Barry Allen: yeah i just jog around the field to warm up
Caitlin Snow: Well I can meet you before my 7:30 class
Barry Allen: cool
Barry Allen: come watch to support the team okay :p
Barry Allen: the meet is at 4 :)
Caitlin Snow: Break a leg
Barry Allen: i cant tell if you meant that literally or not…
Caitlin Snow: I have to go
Caitlin Snow: Bye
Caitlin signed off and closed her laptop. She didn't really have to go, but her chest was heavy with an invisible weight, similar to the times she was expecting an A but got a B+ instead… And she started at that comparison because she remembered that she had to do a little reading for her thesis, so she eagerly threw herself into schoolwork for the rest of the night.
She resolved to give Barry Allen as little space in her head as possible.
By Wednesday, Caitlin was feeling quite pleased with herself. The thought of Barry Allen no longer elicited the same feelings it did the day before. In fact, she had been able to analyse her reactions in a very objective manner the other day, and she'd come to the conclusion that her sense of unease around him—which manifested in heat rushing to her face, a faster pulse, and shallower breathing, to name a few—was not due to attraction, but rather to anger or frustration. That would also parsimoniously explain why she had the urge to hit him or strangle him. Despite having zero personal experience with attraction, Caitlin was certain that when one person was attracted to another, he or she simply did not have urges to cause bodily harm to the object of attraction.
Further, any intimation she had about wanting to get to know him better could be attributed to mere curiosity and the fact that she did not typically interact with his strain of male. It was her unfamiliarity with him in general—not attraction—that caused both her confusion and her intrigue with him. Thus, she could say with confidence that she was not attracted to Barry Allen.
Caitlin explained her moment of clarity to Felicity, but Felicity promptly accused her of deluding herself, because she obviously liked Barry Allen and he probably liked her too because if he didn't, why would he tease her so mercilessly? She returned that she was not deluding herself because she had come to that conclusion through a very rigorous rational analysis of her feelings, and also Barry Allen had made it very clear that he wasn't flirting with her. Felicity said that she was just using "rationality" to justify her denial, and that it was very clear that Barry Allen was also in denial. Caitlin simply denied that and the case was closed. The point was, she had come to a conclusion of her feelings for Barry Allen—a conclusion that was clear, logical, and uncomplicated—and she was satisfied with it. He was nothing more than a new acquaintance and a lab partner. As for how he regarded her, he had been very explicit about it, so further speculation was useless.
She was thus in a very composed frame of mind when she made her way to the track field.
It was a cold, drizzly morning. From afar the grass in the middle of the field seemed scandalously green against the gray of the sky and the dull red of the track, and Caitlin had to blink a few times to get accustomed to how bright it stood out in the landscape. As she neared it, she heard two voices—one clearly Barry's, and the other clearly belonging to a female's, although it didn't seem to be Linda's.
"Ten point twenty-one," said the female voice.
Barry groaned. "I'm never going to win with that time."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," said his companion. "Your first try was a ten point fifteen. That's your record, right?"
"Ten point twelve, actually. But I've only hit it once. It just happened to be during the nationals… Oh, hey, Caitlin!"
Barry waved at her. His companion, a pretty female with dark skin and hair, turned to look at her as well, and smiled as she neared them. "Hi," Caitlin said. She kept her tone neutral, like how she would address any male acquaintance of hers. "Here's your jacket."
"Thanks," Barry said. He seemed a little out of breath and had circles under his eyes, but he was grinning at her. Maybe he was glad to have his jacket back. "How's your rash?"
"It's fading."
"But you're still wearing a sweater to hide it. I'm really sorry."
"It doesn't inconvenience me. This is my usual outfit."
"Really?" Barry changed out of his sweatshirt—he was wearing a shirt underneath, mercifully—and into the varsity jacket. "I think I preferred that getup you had when we first met."
He was giving her that same cheeky grin, but there was something off about it—maybe it was just the general bleakness of the morning, but he seemed a shade paler. Caitlin frowned. It was normal to worry about male acquaintances, right? When Hartley was late yesterday she did give him some thought… (She vaguely wondered how sad it was that Hartley had become her standard for male acquaintance.)
She quirked her lips into what she hoped was a teasing half-smile. "Maybe you'd also prefer to be called Barney?"
"Hey," he said, but it was only a half-hearted protest. At this point Iris subtly cleared her throat.
"Oh right," Barry said sheepishly. "Sorry. Iris, Caitlin, my lab partner. Caitlin, Iris, my coach."
Iris—a name from his fight with Linda, Caitlin realised, the very best friend Linda was jealous over—rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I'd rather go back to sleep than be here." She smiled again at Caitlin and held out her hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise." What is it with Barry's friends and handshakes? She never recalled touching any of her coursemates' hands. But then she didn't mind as much, because, for some inexplicable reason, she instinctively liked Iris. Iris gave off the impression of being someone who could start a conversation with a complete stranger and, in ten minutes, would be conversing with him or her like old friends. Caitlin didn't think she was that stranger, but at least she felt there would be no pressure on her to make small talk.
"So… I'll leave you two to get acquainted? I'll just grab a drink," Barry said.
"Yeah, sure," Iris said, handing him his jug and towel. In that moment Caitlin could—objectively, not personally, of course—understand Linda's jealousy: there was something about their familiarity with each other that resembled an old married couple's, although it was also clear that there was romantic undercurrent between them.
"I heard about what happened from Barry," Iris said to her. "I'm sorry on his behalf, he's really annoying sometimes."
"Try all the time."
"I can hear you," Barry called out.
"Yeah, that's the point," Iris hollered back. And then she leaned closer to Caitlin and said in a conspiratorial tone, "You know, I'm surprised he lent you his jacket."
Caitlin gave her a puzzled look. "Hm?"
"You know how some athletes can get really superstitious?"
"I don't have athlete friends…"
"Well, I learned about it first from Barry," she laughed. "But anyway, they perform these rituals before or during a game that gets them in the zone. If they don't do it they get this nagging feeling that they're going to lose or something."
"Interesting," Caitlin said.
"Barry's one of those athletes. Every night before a meet he always sleeps with his jacket as his pillow, and he has it on the entire day, right until the moment he has to get on the field. He left his jacket once at another college after a meet and he went ballistic."
Caitlin did not know what to do with this information, but Iris was obviously expecting a reaction, so she said uncertainly, "I'm sorry." Now Iris looked puzzled, so she hastily added, "I insisted on having it washed before giving it back to him. I had no idea it was his peace of mind."
"Oh, Barry might have been too embarrassed to tell you," Iris said with an enigmatic smile.
Caitlin felt confused. What exactly then was Iris trying to achieve by telling her? Was it a warning for her to refrain borrowing his jacket right before a game? Her tone lacked venom for a warning, but if it was a warning, she definitely did not plan on borrowing it again—not like she had borrowed it on purpose in the first place. And wasn't it possible that he had been so apologetic about messing up their first experiment that he felt like making up for it by forgoing a good night's sleep? Besides, didn't he say that he wasn't as passionate about track as he was? So maybe he wasn't as superstitious anymore, either…
Barry was jogging back towards them.
"Will you be watching the meet later?" Iris asked her, now in a normally modulated voice.
Caitlin gave a vague response and impulsively announced that she needed to go to class, bidding Iris goodbye and Barry good luck. On her walk to the science complex she refused to dwell on what Iris said. It was far too early in the morning for an attempt to decipher people.
"Cait! Caitlin! CATALINA! Wait up!"
Caitlin paused on her way out of the classroom and glanced back to see Cisco squeezed through the crowd to get to her. He grinned and said, by standard way of greeting, "Hola, mi amiga Catalina." It was a habit he'd started since high school, and Caitlin had long given up in getting him to stop calling her that.
"Hello, mi amigo Francisco," she said, because she knew that being called his full name annoyed him. "You have class here?"
"Yup! Materials engineering," he said. "I'm crazy excited for it. I'm thinking of making that cold gun for my final project. I showed you my sketch, right?"
She raised a brow. "You showed me a lot of sketches, but I think I remember it. Will your professor even allow you make a weapon?"
"Professor Stein? Dude, he was even more excited about it than me. He said I could probably finish a prototype by the end of the sem, although I might not be able to fire it yet. I can't wait to get started! I mean, finding the materials is gonna be a pain, but Stein said that he knows some people—wait, before I get sidetracked, I was gonna ask you something… Waaait… Oh, yeah, I saw Barry Allen here the other day, and he was looking for you?"
Caitlin knitted her brows together. "You know him?"
"Yeah, sat beside him in physics back in first year. Crazy guy. Probably the only I.S. major ever to take physics for his elective."
"I.S. as in interdisciplinary studies? But he's in forensic science now. We're classmates for cell and molecular biology."
It was Cisco's turn to be confused. "I guess he shifted? Huh. Anyway, I saw you walking to the dorms. I was shouting at you but you didn't mind me, and then Barry came by and asked if I saw you. Why did you have his jacket, anyway? Are you a fan or something?"
She glared at him. "Of course not," she said, and quickly explained the accident. Cisco, bless his heart, was oblivious to all the "romantic" nuances that Felicity had seen, and by the end of her story all he said was, "So are you watching the meet?"
"Are you?"
"Yeah, but not for him. I'm going for my beloved tutee."
"Lisa Snart?" Caitlin had to endure Cisco's endless gushing about her the entire summer, so much so that she probably knew more about Lisa now than Lisa's own parents. "She's on the team?"
"Yeah, she is. I already thought of a nickname for her—the Golden Glider," he said, starry-eyed. "How does that sound? I'm trying to make sports nicknames a thing, but they won't let me announce during events. Jax says I might just go on about Lisa, but hey, I can be totally unbiased. Although she is pretty phenomenal on the field. I mean, this one time I saw them practice, she was neck-to-neck with Barry!"
"You're a very supportive tutor," Caitlin said dryly.
"Hey, tutoring is the only way outside of like, getting someone completely wasted that a nerd can have a shot at the Lisas of the world. Have I told you how she reacted to that video of turtles copulating? I showed you that, right…?"
Caitlin cringed. "Well, about that—"
"So we met up the other day to coordinate our scheds, and she was wearing these black skinny jeans that made her look extra tall—but just to be clear I'm one inch taller than she is, even without the milk cartons in my shoes—"
She sighed. Good ol' Cisco. Here we go again…
After her psychology class—and numerous texts from Cisco bugging her to go, because Jax had class and Cisco didn't want to seem like a complete loser watching the meet alone—Caitlin made her way to the track field for the second time that day. It was quite sunny now so she had to push the sleeves of her sweater to her elbows. She adjusted her bra uncomfortably, feeling the sweat pooling at her sternum, and she silently cursed all outdoor activities as she did. Really, part of her tuition went to building that stupid indoor sports facility, so why couldn't they hold events there instead?
Well, she didn't really have a right to complain, since she'd only be watching this once, anyway. And she was doing it to accompany Cisco. Also she wanted to try something that her psychology professor mentioned in her introductory lecture. She said that one branch of psychology dealt with understanding memory and perception, and she cited numerous studies that proved how something as simple as labels could affect how people perceived an object and how they would later remember it. For example, labelling the same figure as either "eyeglasses" or "dumbbells" affected how people later redrew the figure. Most didn't actually redraw the figure exactly as it had appeared, but rather as it had been labelled.
Caitlin was fascinated by the illustration and wondered if she could apply it to people. For example, instead of using "Barry Allen" to refer to Barry Allen—his name had rather troublesome connotations for her, like pretty green eyes, pseudo-flirtatious banter, peppermint-and-aftershave-smelling jacket, emoticons like ;), :p, and so on—she could grant him a neutral label, such as "Male Acquaintance 009" or "Specimen X." She was partial to "Specimen X", though, because the use of "specimen" was devoid of personal significance and did not connote progression in a relationship (as opposed to 'male acquaintance', which could lead to 'friend', 'boyfriend', and so on). There was only one sort of relationship embedded in "specimen", and that was scientist-object, or observer-observee.
She felt a tad guilty about how cold it sounded, so she changed X to B instead. There. Henceforth, she would use the label "Specimen B" to Barry Allen, in hopes that she'd perceive him with less personal attachment than absolutely necessary.
When she arrived at the field she spotted Cisco immediately. He shot up from his seat and gave her a huge wave with both arms, beaming, and she tried not to be embarrassed when a few heads turned to her. "You're just in time! The women's event is about to start," he said. "GO LISA! WHOO! —Did you see that? She blew me a flying kiss!"
"Are you sure that it was meant for you and not, you know, the crowd in general?"
Her admonition fell on deaf ears as Cisco had already moved to "catch" the flying kiss. Caitlin sighed. That Lisa Snart had definitely done a number on Cisco. He was a complete goner for her.
Caitlin clutched her backpack closer to her chest and leaned away from the gaggle of freshman girls beside her, who were busy taking selfies with the field and with their hotdogs. The heat was near unbearable now, and her hair was sticking to her neck in damp clumps; all around there was indiscernible chatter and barely coherent screaming. The smell of cheap processed food permeated the air, and empty, sauce-smeared containers littered the floor.
Ugh, Caitlin thought, gingerly pushing a chewed-on straw away from her foot, she hated sports events…
Suddenly there was a loud blast, the crowd erupted into screams, Cisco was going crazy beside her, and just as she looked up at the field the female runners were off. She managed to locate Lisa in red and gold, but she crossed the finish line just as she did. It was over in eleven seconds.
"DID YOU SEE THAT!" Cisco said exultantly, as if he had been the one to win the race. "TEN POINT EIGHTY-SEVEN SECONDS!"
A few minutes later, the males began warming up on the field. Caitlin spotted Bar—Specimen B—immediately, still sporting his red-and-gold jacket.
Specimen B begins performing stretches, Caitlin thought. Specimen B pulls his leg behind him. Now he moves to touch the floor. He bends on one knee to untie and retie his laces on the right foot, and then on the left foot. Specimen B stands. He makes his way to the bleachers. Specimen B greets a group of people in the first row. The group of people yell, "Block Y represent!" From this information it may be inferred that the group of people are his forensic science blockmates. Specimen B seems to be thanking them. He lingers speaking with a blonde girl. The blonde girl is pretty. She is smiling for the whole duration of their exchange. Specimen B is smiling at her, as well. Specimen B has a nice smile. (The observer notes that a "nice smile" means a smile that is evolutionarily advantageous for attracting viable mates.) Specimen B moves away from them. He seems to be searching for something. Specimen B pauses and waves—at the observer?
Caitlin paused in her monologue and stared at Specimen B. True enough, he was grinning and waving at her. Or maybe it was just the crowd in general? But he seemed to be mouthing her name…
"Dude, I think Barry Allen's waving at you," Cisco said, elbowing her.
Caitlin reluctantly lifted her hand to eye-level and waved back.
That seemed to satisfy him. Specimen B now turns to Cisco, the observer's companion, Caitlin thought, resuming her detached internal narration. She may be enjoying this more than she would like to admit. They exchange a flurry of gestures that the observer doesn't understand. It seems to be part of the system of signs that male Homo sapiens have developed to greet each other. Specimen B now turns his gaze back to the observer. It may just be a trick of the light, but the observer has reason to believe that he possessed the audacity to wink at her. The observer decides that the best course of action is to ignore him, as such behaviour is normal to him and should not be reinforced. Specimen B now returns to the field. He repeats the same set of stretches that he performed before his quick interaction with the audience. Specimen B bounces on his feet. He takes a drink of water. He listens to a few words from his coach. He unzips his jacket and holy mother of god those arms and that back—
Caitlin tugged at the collar of her sweater and tried to compose herself. Specimen B is attired in a skintight sleeveless red-and-gold jersey and a pair of skintight black shorts made from technical fabric, she amended. The observer assumes that such clothing minimises friction and chafing when the human body moves at high velocity. In such clothing Specimen B proves to have well-formed trapezius, deltoids, triceps, biceps, and gluteals. (The observer does not neglect to note that other male-runner bodies are formed in a similar manner.) In colloquial terms, he may be described as "ripped".
Specimen B and the seven other runners move to the starting line. The announcer quickly goes over the accomplishments of each. The observer learns that Specimen B is the back-to-back champion in three out of five leagues that he has joined, and that this qualification meet should be a breeze for him. When the announcer says, "Give it up for Barry Allen," the audience goes berserk (including the observer's companion, who has been spouting a steady stream of statistics on each runner). Specimen B assumes a self-deprecating air by rubbing his neck and shyly waving at the crowd. It really does not become him. However the observer notes that this show of self-deprecation may be part of his public appeal. The runners position themselves at the starting line. The gun goes off and they're off—but wait what's this dear mother of the lord Barry Allen isn't in the lead—there's a fucker in yellow with a funny name who's in the lead—Cisco is screaming—is that me screaming I'm not sure—oh my god he's picking up speed and—oh my god he crossed the finish line—oh my god HE WON—
"TEN POINT ELEVEN!" Cisco whistled. "That's a new record for him! Amazing!"
Caitlin hadn't realised that she'd been holding onto her backpack so tightly that there were clear outlines of the zipper on her palms. She stared at Barry Allen celebrating on the field, smiling for the cameras, arms raised to the sky. The crowd was cheering but well above the din, the beating of her own heart reverberated loudly in her ears.
Well, so much for detachment.
(16:11) brEAKING NEWS
(16:12) caitlin
(16:12) cait cait cait caitliiiiiin
(16:13) oh yeah ur watching ur lover
(16:13) k fine
(16:13) imma tell u anyway
(16:14) oliver knows barry
(16:14) as in theyre friends
(16:14) ! ! ! ! ! !
(16:14) like not bff material but like
(16:15) i share my probs to dat ho sometimes when we're drunk af
(16:15) material
(16:16) not his exact words bt u get it
(16:16) so i asked oliver to invite him to movie night
(16:17) on sat
(16:17) and im almost done w ur stupid shirt
(16:18) and u knoe what dat means
(16:19) guess what im gonna dare u to do
(16:19) muAAHAHHAHAHAHA
(16:20) god i love myself
Notes: Yeah, so this chapter was heavy on Caitlin/Felicity and Caitlin/Cisco friendship, but I figured that they had to make a major appearance, being Caitlin's only friends and all. Also I know nada about college track, so I had to do a bit of research… I would be glad if anyone can give me info about it. As usual, feedback is much appreciated! Pardon the mistakes, I wrote the last three-ish parts in a rush.