Notes: Oh my god, it's been awhile, so sorry. Life's been really hectic, but thank god board exams are out of the way, so I'm back! Thank you again for your reviews!

Caitlin did not panic right away.

It seemed like her rational mind had been blanketed in fog, so that she began indulging in daydreams that she had long suppressed. They were not particularly lengthy or detailed—her inexperience with romance and her long-standing disdain for it precluded the possibility of detailed plots—but they were still very vivid images of Barry Allen: his green eyes, his smile, the lilt in his voice when he teased her. The way he laughed, the chiseled outline of his muscles under his track suit, the way his fingers curled into the palm of her hand. The way his smile turned sad when he was serious, the shape of his lips when he pronounced the names of stars.

And then, slowly, the images ceased to come from her memories—they started coming from a future she wanted to see. A successful lab experiment on biomolecules with a lot of bad science jokes on the side. Learning more names of stars, learning their alliances in constellations. Taking the train with him to STAR Labs, standing close enough to him to hear him breathe. And, perhaps after a date forced to end by a grouchy owner closing shop, a kiss under the night sky, in early autumn air…

Caitlin bolted up from her bed so fast that her head spun, and the sudden rush of blood to her head finally dispelled the haze in her mind. What in hell am I thinking? she chided herself, burying her face in her hands. Oh my god oh my god oh my god what if he doesn't like me back? What if he gets back with Linda? What if—

NO, STOP. Do not panic. Caitlin sat up straighter and took three deep, calming breaths.

She didn't need to give in to those thoughts. She needed to take control of the situation as soon as possible, and the first thing she needed to figure out was possible action points. Yes, she could do that.

She took another deep breath and gathered her stray hairs into a tight bun, grabbed a piece of bond paper from her organiser, and settled on her desk. She'd always done this for crucial decision points, and even if her current situation was unprecedented, she figured that there was nothing that a good old-fashioned cost-benefit analysis couldn't solve.

She folded her paper into three, and then wrote the title and a date at the centre. Afterwards, she labelled the first column as 'Action Point', under which she filled out the following:

A rudimentary cost-benefit analysis of the current predicament
(Costs and benefits not necessarily quantifiable)

Action Points:

(1) Forever hold my silence.
(2) Confess to him myself.
(3) Consult with friends.

Possible Outcomes:

Outcome 1: He does not reciprocate my sentiments. Probability: 97%—see Outcome 2 for breakdown

Outcome 2: He reciprocates my sentiments. Probability: 3%, a generous estimate based on:

a) the jacket incident,
b) an over-reading of "pseudo-flirtatious" "banter", and
c) an over-reading of the Weaver Girl/Cowherd story

After that, she proceeded to fill out the corresponding costs and benefits for each Action Point. She had to redo the list a few times before she finally came up with something satisfactory, and when she did, she paused to reassess what she'd written.

To be honest, Option (1) appealed to her the most, because it seemed like the only option that would preserve her pride and dignity. It didn't require her to make herself vulnerable to anyone. But Caitlin also did not like not taking action. Sure, holding one's silence could be construed as a sort of action, but it was passive action, which meant she would be suspended in a state of forever torturing herself over possibilities. There would be no closure—unless he confessed to her first, but again that relegated her to the passive role of waiting—and she didn't like that. Passiveness led to restlessness, and restlessness meant diffuse concentration, which then led to poor performance in other areas of her life, which led to a dip in GPA and subsequent joblessness.

Thus, (1) was probably not the best course of action.

She hated (2), because of course it would entail opening herself up to humiliation and rejection, and she hated feeling inadequate. Her whole life had been geared towards working hard to prove how intelligent and capable she was, and rejection in whatever form, like an A-minus or a stutter in an otherwise good interview, always threw her off. Even if Barry Allen's rejection of her might not have anything to do with her intelligence, she knew she would see it as "not being good enough" for the likes of him. Of course, there was the possibility that he'd reciprocate, but obviously the possibility of rejection loomed larger in her mind than the possibility that he'd reciprocate, indicated by her (admittedly dubious) probability estimates.

So she was definitely not going to do (2). The emotional costs far outweighed the benefit of that elusive "closure" of knowing how he truly feels about her.

She hated to admit it, but (3) looked like the most appealing option. Caitlin disliked being wrong, and admitting she liked Barry Allen would be to prove her friends right and herself wrong, but then again, it would cost her only some discomfort and mild annoyance at most. Usually, one factored in the possibility that said friends would tell on her, but she knew that neither Felicity nor Cisco—or Jax, since he'd been dragged into all this—would ever do that. At most, they would be terribly unsubtle, but then they already were, so there wasn't any difference there. Besides, if she wanted to know how he felt about her—which had been the foremost benefit of Option (2)—what better way to find out than through her friends? If he didn't like her, there would be a minimum loss of face, and if he did, she had them to help her plan her next move.

Caitlin encircled Option (3) on her list and nodded grimly.

Now she just had to gather the guts to tell them.

"Cait."

Something was prodding her. Caitlin groaned and shifted, her hand reflexively swatting at the annoying thing on her side.

"Cait." The poking was more insistent now. "Cait Cait Cait please give some indication that you are alive and/or conscious—"

Caitlin gave up. She slowly cracked her eyes open. "Felicity? What are you…"

"Hallelujah!" Felicity cheered, before her brow scrunched in concern. "Hey, are you okay?" She stooped down to bring her face right in front of hers. "You fell asleep on your desk. In last night's clothes. And there was this high-res picture of the extraction of a roundworm from an eye on your laptop screen, which is so not conducive for breakfast, no thanks to your mother, but I know you only look at those when you really really need a distraction. So. Are you okay?"

"I… fell asleep on my desk?" It was the only part of Felicity's ramble that Caitlin was able to comprehend. She groggily tried to lift her head. "Ow. That explains the crick in my neck."

"Hm," Felicity said noncommittally. "I guess that would also explain this, wouldn't it?"

Caitlin saw the crumpled piece of paper dangling from Felicity's fingers. She squinted at it, because it looked suspiciously like—she shot up from her seat. It looked very much like her first and most awful cost-benefit analysis draft. "Oh my god, you did not—"

"'Action Point 2: Confess to him myself,'" Felicity read, and Caitlin, having only just woken up, was too slow to react.

"F-Felicity! Come back here!" She stumbled as she got up from her desk and glared at her best friend, who was now standing on top of her bed, grinning. "Felicity, I swear—"

"'Outcome 2: He reciprocates my sentiments. Benefits'"—Felicity squealed when Caitlin managed to tackle her down on the bed, but she held the paper far enough above her head that Caitlin still struggled to reach it. "'Benefits: 1) Occasionally, perhaps 0.3% of the time, he does make"—apparently Felicity's hanging out with Oliver had somehow gifted her with athletic abilities, because her friend was dodging her swipes surprisingly well—"make… commendable jokes. 2) Increased time"—another series of successful dodges—"staring at his eyes. His eyes are rather—rather nice to stare int—AT. 3) He looks quite fetching in starlight'—"

Caitlin, blushing furiously now, finally managed to snatch the paper from Felicity, before the abrupt movement sent them both over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

They groaned in unison, sat up, rubbed their respective sore body parts, caught each other's eye at the same time… and promptly burst into laughter.

When their laughter finally tapered off into giggles, Caitlin managed a glare at her friend. It held no real venom, though—she had done the same to Felicity back when she'd been mooning over Oliver. Only, of course, it was an Excel file, not a piece of paper. "Seriously," Caitlin said, "why are you so annoying?"

Felicity flopped onto her stomach and grinned. "God made me this way to torment you."

Caitlin sighed. "God, I never asked for this. Please take her back. Just don't put her in your choir—ow!"

"You're one to talk," Felicity sniffed. "And please, without me you'll just lead a sad, sad life, with no one to understand your compulsive need to colour-code our stash of instant noodles."

"Tragic, really."

"Don't I know it. Now, care to tell me why you fell asleep in a pile of rubbish?" Felicity smiled slyly. "Or we can just talk about how fetching Barry Allen looks in starlight—"

"God. Stop."

"You used fetching, Cait. Fetching. I will forever hold that against you."

Caitlin wrinkled her nose decided not to dignify that with an answer. Instead she took a deep breath and muttered, "Felicity. I think I like Barry Allen."

She exhaled. Her statement suddenly felt ten times more real, now that she'd told someone else.

Felicity gaped at her.

And then, "Motherfracker."

She gave her friend a sidelong glance. "I'm not saying it again. And please don't gloat. It's really too early in the morning for me to deal with strenuous physical activity and your annoyingness at the same time."

"Silly. I wasn't going to gloat." Felicity propped herself up on her elbows. "Wait, no, maybe I will. A little. Okay, a lot. But after we talk. I mean, I'm happy it didn't take you a gazillion years to admit it, but then again there's the fact that you've only known him for a week…"

"I know, I know," Caitlin sighed, feeling oddly resigned. "I suppose the only logical explanation at this point is sorcery."

"No, the logical explanation is that he's cute and he's nice and he talks to you. Ergo, you like him. Congratulations, you're human like the rest of us." Felicity scooted closer to her friend. "Well, so are you going to tell me about this whole 'fetching' business or what?"

"Dude, it's the end of the world."

"Don't be so melodramatic, man," Jax said, after he'd managed to close his mouth. "I mean, yeah, it's pretty surprising, but I guess Cait's still a girl. With like, girl hormones."

"But Cait's survived without them for seven years—"

"Cait," Caitlin said irritably, "is right here, thank you very much."

Cisco threw up his hands. "Fine, fine. I give you my blessing. Just, he better not break your heart, or else I'll—uh, I'll delete his progress on all his video games." He nodded decisively. "I swear it on the Crash Bandicoot remake."

Caitlin felt oddly touched. "Thanks. But you do realise that I'm not… well… we're not…"

"Together," Felicity supplied supportively.

"Right." Caitlin shifted uncomfortably and glared at her friend. After discussing her "predicament"with Felicity that morning, she'd encouraged her to tell Cisco and Jax, too, because they knew Barry better—that, and having a Y chromosome supposedly made them more knowledgeable about the workings of the male mind.

Well, knowledgeable or not, at least they'd been satisfied with her two-sentence summary of her walk with Barry Allen the night before, as opposed to the two hours she'd spent with Felicity on it, dissecting every possible subtext to his words. Caitlin didn't think she could handle that sort of intensity again.

"Anyway, Cait needs our help," Felicity said. She folded her hands together and took a sip of her milkshake. "She doesn't want to prolong her agony, so she wants to find out ASAP what Barry thinks of her. If he doesn't like her, then she thinks she should just avoid him for the rest of the sem. If he does, well…"

"Wait, wait," Jax interjected, putting his burger down. "You're saying that we're doing the spying, and you'll just… wait for the intel?"

Caitlin and Felicity glanced at each other.

"I won't just be waiting," Caitlin clarified. "I'll be… well, strategising…"

"No way. I mean, sure, I'd spy for you." He took a sip of his drink. "But you gotta do your part too."

"I can't just ask him if he likes me. That would defeat the entire purpose of asking you to ask him."

"Who said anything about asking him straight up?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Felicity and Cisco turned to him, looking equally lost. "Yeah, what're you getting at, man?"

"I'm saying," Jax said patiently, "that if you want to find out if the guy likes you, you gotta be subtle. You gotta be sneaky. You gotta seduce it outta him."

"…WHAT?!"

Cisco choked on a french fry. "Dude. Cait seducing someone is like watching turtles have sex! No offence to turtles."

"Thank you for your support," Caitlin said, glaring at him half-heartedly. "He has a point though. I really don't think that's feasible…"

"No, I'm serious. Hear me out, Cait," Jax said. He leaned his elbows on the table. "Alright, so here's the stitch. I can usually tell when a guy's into someone, yeah? And I'm getting the feeling that Barry's into you, but he hasn't thought about being serious about it. In my humble opinion, Barry hasn't really thought about it yet because, well, no offence, Cait, but you're pretty intimidating."

"Cait's not intimidating," Cisco said. "She's just, you know, kinda serious and intense and uptight sometimes…"

Caitlin gasped. "Uptight?"

"Lisa's words, not mine," Cisco said quickly. "She calls you my, uh, 'uptight friend'…"

"There we go," Jax said. "So, if I were in Barry's shoes and I think I kinda like this cute chick—woman, sorry—but I see that the cute chi—woman is this intense and uptight and really fucking smart workaholic who's already got one foot into grad school and profs lining up to take her as their research assistant, what do I do?"

"Any dude with a sense of self-preservation would flee," Cisco supplied, slurping his drink, as if for emphasis.

"Bingo. I'd back the hell off because she's not gonna see me as a priority. And we're not masochists. If a dude sees he doesn't stand a chance against M.I.T. or STAR Labs, he'd just save himself the pain of getting rejected and not try at all."

"Hmmm," Felicity mused. "So you're saying that Cait has to give Barry a little nudge."

"Yeah," Jax shrugged, finally polishing off his burger. "And from there, just go with the flow. From how I see it, you won't need us spying, because I feel Barry's going to rise to the bait."

"That's very nice and all," Caitlin deadpanned, "but you're leaving out the part where I don't know how, and will never learn how, to 'seduce' or 'flirt' or use any sort of feminine wiles for any purpose."

"That's not a problem," Jax said dismissively. "Hey, if I can learn shit like cis-trans isomerism, you can learn seduction." He grinned. "Look, you don't need to do much. Like I said, I feel Barry's already into you."

"Preach it, brotha!" Cisco cheered. "But I still don't think Cait's going to, you know, bat her eyes at anyone soon. It's not her usual skill set, if you know what I mean."

"Hear, hear," Caitlin said.

"Well, alright, it's not really seduction," Jax amended. "Just encourage him a little, that's all. Like, I don't know… Try laughing at his jokes…?"

Cisco suddenly straightened in his seat. "Oh my god, guys. Guys. I just had the best idea ever. This'll solve everything!"

"You say that about a lot of things," said Caitlin.

"No, this is legit brilliant. Like, 'why am I not laying offerings at your feet yet, Cisco' brilliant."

"Let's give him a chance," Felicity said benevolently.

Cisco grinned, undeterred. He opened his hands in an expansive gesture and declared, "It's Science and Tech Month!"

Everyone stared at him blankly.

"…And?"

He huffed and threw his hands up. "Seriously? Come on, guys. Networking Night? Socials?"

Comprehension dawned in Felicity's eyes. "The party for all science and tech majors!"

It took another moment before Jax reacted. "Ohhh," he drawled. "Sooo, I heard that Barry shifted from I.S. to forensic this year, and since it'll be his first party, there's no way he's going to miss it…"

"…and, a nerd party is the only kind of party that Cait'll willingly go to, so she won't miss it, either," Cisco finished, positively glowing with smugness. "You're going, right?"

Caitlin shrank back from their expectant gazes. "Well, I go every year to make sure you two idiots"—she jerked her chin to Felicity and Cisco—"get back in one piece," she said evasively. "And I still don't see how this all connects…"

"It's the perfect opportunity!" Felicity insisted. "You'll be able to see who he's hanging out with, and whether or not there's, you know, a girl. And if there isn't, you'll be able to loosen up and have fun with him. Well, you'll loosen up and have fun without him, anyway. It's a win-win!"

"What did I tell ya," Cisco beamed. "Brilliant, huh? It'll be even better if we can get you a liiiiittle tipsy, like that time—"

"That time does not exist," Caitlin said hotly, "thank you very much now please shut up."

Felicity and Cisco exchanged grins, and Jax stared cluelessly at them. "What time?"

Caitlin gave her two good friends fierce glares, but Felicity only gave her a patronising pat on the arm. "Oh, relax, Cait."

Cisco clapped Jax on the back. "Sorry, man. It's like the Fight Club. We never talk about it."

(Now, what happened during that Unspeakable Time was simply that, a few years back, Caitlin had gotten drunk. Felicity and Cisco had described her drunk alter ego as "fun and wild and kinda flirty", none of which Caitlin could remember—not that she'd tried particularly hard to—but apparently, there was some dancing with a microphone stand, and more dancing on top of a table, and, when all the dancing was over, there were declarations of love made to a nearby karaoke machine.

Suffice to say, she never got drunk again after that.)

"Anyway," Felicity said, forming a steeple with her fingers, "I think it's time that you used the dress, don't you think?"

Caitlin groaned. "Felicity. No."

"Cait, you have to. Jax, you have to get her to wear the dress."

"What's 'the dress'…?"

"The dress, my good friend," Felicity said, leaning in conspiratorially, "is seduction personified…"

As Felicity chattered on, Caitlin's phone started vibrating. She frowned and fished her phone out of her pocket, wondering who on earth would possibly call her on a Sunday morning.

When she saw the caller ID, she blanched.

She hadn't even realised that her phone had slipped from her hands and clattered onto the table until her friends cried out and crowded around it, innocently vibrating on the wooden surface.

"Speak of the devil!" Cisco grinned.

"What do I say?" Caitlin said, agitated. Her pulse was already quickening, and she didn't like that. It made her even more nervous than she already was. "I don't know how I'm supposed to talk to him after—after—"

"You gotta start now," Jax said. "C'mon, deep breaths. You got this."

"Go on, answer it!" Felicity urged, slipping the phone back into her hand. "Just slide the button and say 'hi.' That's not so hard, is it?"

And then, to Caitlin's horror, Felicity slid the answer button.

"Hi!" Caitlin squeaked. She shot Felicity a baleful look and cleared her throat. "Hi."

Felicity mouthed speaker! to her, but Caitlin shot down her request. She was aware that her conversations with Barry didn't exactly sound very innocent, no thanks to him.

"Caitlin, hey! Good morning!" His voice sounded like he'd just gotten up, but still she could almost hear the grin in his greeting. She gripped her phone tighter. Her hand was clammy and trembling. God, what was this boy doing to her? "Um, I hope I didn't wake you…"

"Barry, it's almost noon. Of course I'd be awake," she said, her voice steady despite her nerves.

Felicity gave her a thumbs up.

"Oh, right. Right. Er, so, I woke up and realised that we've never talked about the post-lab report. I guess we could do it today?"

"The post-lab report? Uh, well, I've already finished it."

"…What? Without me? Does our partnership mean so little to you?"

"Yes, I finished it without you," she confirmed, for the sake of her eavesdropping friends. "Sorry. You just didn't seem to have a lot of free time, and I enjoy doing post-labs, so. Yeah."

"Oh." He sounded really bummed, and Caitlin frowned, feeling, for some absurd reason, the weight of guilt in her gut. This was insanity—she had practically finished their report, and that wasn't exactly something either of them should feel bummed about. "Well, okay…"

"I haven't done the introduction and conclusion, yet, though," she said, mouth dry. "You could finish it up, if you—"

"Introduction and conclusion?" he repeated. And then, his tone teasing, "Gee, thanks for giving me so much work. Such a slacker, Caitlin."

She rolled her eyes. "Take it or leave it."

"Okay, okay, if you insist," he said. Caitlin found herself biting her bottom lip harder than she should, trying to contain a small smile. She caught herself immediately, of course, remembering that she was in the presence of her friends and had a reputation to maintain, so instead settled on pressing her lips into a thin line. "I'll meet you in the library in… fifteen minutes?"

"The library? No, I can just send it to you online. We don't need to—" Caitlin cut herself off when her friends started gesturing wildly at her, and she scrunched her brow at in them an attempt to read their lips. "—I mean, okay," she amended slowly. "I suppose I could meet up with you."

Another thumbs-up, this time from all of them.

"Great! See ya!"

She hung up first and stared at three identical grins. "I cannot believe I just agreed to that."

"You'll be fine. Just be yourself," Felicity said breezily. "And here. Put on some lip gloss. It doubles as a balm."

"How is that going to help me 'be myself'?"

"It'll help you be the new you," Jax said, grinning. "Welcome to the first lesson of Seducing Barry All—ow! Oh, come on, you asked for my help, so I'm helping you!"

"Also, your bottom lip is kinda bleeding," Cisco pointed out, resuming his attack on his now-soggy fries. "Wouldn't want to freak Barry out."

Caitlin touched her lip and sighed in defeat. She took the lip gloss.

"Well?" Cisco said. "Run along now! We don't want to be late for your date, chica!"

"Cisco, the library is literally across us."

"Well, you walk slow, and Barry's like, the fastest man alive," Cisco persisted.

Caitlin raised a brow at him, sliding the gloss-slash-balm back to Felicity. "It'll take me three minutes at most to walk there." She pulled her laptop out. "Now stop sending me away."

"Off," Cisco said. "Sending you off. There's a difference." He paused to finish what he was eating, and he leaned on the table. "Geez, are you working? On such a fine Sunday morning? Hey, if you finish doing all your pre-labs in advance, can you do mine ins—holy pepperoni, did you just… did you just delete the entire conclusion?"

Caitlin quickly shut her laptop, her cheeks heating. "That was a different file."

"You also deleted the intro, didn't you?" He was brimming with glee when he turned to the others. "She deleted the intro and conclusion! The one she said she hadn't done!" And then, to her, "Awww, how sweeeeet! Awww, our widdle Caitlin is growing up…!"

"I'm eight months older than you are," she muttered, grabbing her wallet and phone, and before Felicity and Jax could join in, she made a hasty retreat.

She didn't think she'd ever walked faster in her life.

Caitlin operated on auto-pilot on her way to the library, quickly settling into her usual spot. It seemed like she couldn't process her surroundings, so fixated was she on the fact that she was going to see Barry Allen so soon after her admission to herself, and she was terrified. What should she say? How should she act? What if she does something wrong, or says something stupid?

If she did… would he be able to tell that she liked him?

She twisted her hands around the fabric of her sweater and bit her lip hard, until she tasted the lip gloss and released it. She felt she was suspended in a painful state of physiological arousal—she was keenly aware of her own racing pulse, the clamminess of her hands, the seeming dryness of her mouth—all of which, come to think of it, she'd been experiencing to some extent every time she was around him, but which she hadn't been completely aware of, what with how effective her denial had been.

She rested her chin on the cool surface of the table and huffed. She hated how new and unfamiliar this all was, and how vulnerable she felt about it. How was he doing this to her? Barry Allen was just a boy, after all. She'd been around boys before—she was always around boys, actually, because of the course she'd taken—and, like Barry Allen, they'd talked to her, made mandatory science jokes, and occasionally succeeded in making her smile. A few of them—she shifted uncomfortably as she allowed the thought—were even passably good-looking.

What was so different about Barry Allen, then? She refused to believe she was attracted to him only because he was an athlete, because she'd met a few athletes in Oliver's parties that Felicity would drag her to back when he threw them for show, and even if some had been charming and moderately intelligent, Caitlin had regarded them with the same detached interest that she did with all unfamiliar people.

Barry Allen was not supposed to have gone further than detached interest. In fact, it would have been surprising enough had he merely gone from stranger to acquaintance in the span of a week. But no, he'd barrelled past all those boundaries of hers, and somehow, unfathomably, wormed his way into her affections…

On second thought, maybe that was what was different about him—his sheer persistence into getting her to talk to him. She wasn't used to it. What she was used to was people maintaining a polite distance from her. She'd initially assumed people stayed away because she was private and reserved, but after what Jax said that morning, it might have also been because she intimidated them. She'd never considered that before. And she found it hard to wrap her mind around the possibility that Barry Allen was intimidated by her, since he was so infuriatingly persistent, but could it be that even he had his limits? Did she really seem so intimidating to him that he'd be deterred from pursuing—her breath shallowed at the thought—a relationship with her, assuming that he did like her, in the first place?

Caitlin quickly went over their conversations in her head and winced. She had been a little mean to him. Although, to be fair, she'd only been doing it in self-defence… She groaned and thumped her forehead on the table, feeling frustrated. She just didn't know what to do with herself where he was concerned. He should've come with a user's manual, she mused. It would be very nice to have neat, step-by-step instructions, like Should you find Barry Allen's flirting uncomfortable, simply uninstall the program "Flirty"…

Caitlin shot up when she heard her name. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw him smiling widely while making his way to her. He was wearing a fitted forest green polo shirt—what was it with him and fitted shirts, god—and a pair of dark wash jeans. When he moved closer, she saw that part of his collar was upturned and his hair was sticking out everywhere.

On other people it might have looked sloppy, but he somehow managed to make it look endearing.

Yeah, she was a goner.

"I figured you'd be here," he said, sliding his laptop out of his bag. "You didn't answer my call, so I was like, if I were a really nerdy molecular biology major, where would I sit? Hmmm, shall I sit near the Shakespeare section or shall I sit near the molecular biology textbooks?"

It took some time before Caitlin found her voice. She tried very hard not to fixate on how his shirt brought out the green of his eyes, and how she very much wanted to smoothen his collar. "What a dilemma," she said. "I hope you didn't have to exert yourself by thinking."

She winced inwardly. Even when she was nervous, sarcasm seemed to come naturally to her. She wasn't even aiming for sarcastic. But then, if she'd suddenly become nicer to him, surely he'd notice that something was wrong…

"It was difficult," he said, with a theatrical sigh. "To molecular biology, or not to molecular biology? That is the question. Or," he suddenly leaned forward and she leaned back, her face heating at the intensity of his gaze, "why are you wearing lip gloss? Now that is the real question."

She pressed her lips into a line self-consciously, and then said, defensive, "What, is it a crime to wear lip gloss?"

"No, but it is if you look good with it," he said, grinning. "It's a nice colour on you."

Caitlin found it very hard to swallow. She couldn't tell if he was being sincere or just incredibly smooth, but it was safer to assume the latter. Still, it didn't stop the heat from rushing to her face. "Well," she managed, after a few more seconds of convincing herself that he wasn't being sincere, "don't be jealous now. I'm sure we can find a colour for you."

He laughed. "Someone's grumpy," he said. "Would it kill you to say 'thank you'?"

"If I did, would we be able to start working?"

He blinked. "Already?" he said. "But it's too early to start working!"

"Barry, it's past noon."

"This is early for me," he insisted. "And I have too much energy right now, I can't concentrate on anything until I talk it out. Please? Please?"

He was now giving her this sort of kicked-puppy look, and Caitlin sighed, feeling defeated. She really didn't understand why she liked him. She had no clue. "Fine—"

"Yesss!" He leaned his elbows on the table, grinning. "So this morning—"

"—you have ten minutes."

"—ten minutes? Are you giving me a talking time limit?"

"Countdown begins now, by the way."

"Oh, come on. Fifteen?"

"Ten."

"Twenty?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Twelve, or we won't get anything done."

"Yesss! Psyched you," he beamed. "So, anyway, this morning, I grabbed some lunch at Jitters. Did you know that they serve lasagne already? I think—"

In the distance, there was the sound of someone shushing them. Caitlin glanced over her shoulder to see the librarian glaring at their table.

"Sorry," Barry mouthed to the librarian with a sheepish grin, before slouching further forward, as if that would make him less conspicuous. Caitlin mirrored his action so that she could hear him whisper, but that also meant that she'd brought her face closer to his. She could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and the clumps of wet hair sticking out of his head, and that maddening part of his collar that remained stubbornly upturned.

She fisted her hands in an attempt to control herself.

"I think they have the best lasagne ever," he was saying, his eyes darting back to the librarian before focusing on her again. "I'm not kidding. I could probably eat it for the rest of my life, and I'd die a happy man."

Caitlin found it hard to stop staring at his collar. "That would be unhealthy," she said.

"No, it won't," he protested. "Pasta has carbs, ground beef is a source of protein, and the sauce is made from a vegetable—"

"—fruit," Caitlin cut in. "Tomato is a fruit."

He blinked. "Oh, right, it is," he said. "How inconsiderate of me, I forgot that tomatoes can have identity crises too." He continued in a faux British accent, "To be a fruit, or not to be a fruit?"

Caitlin bit her lip to stifle a smile. She didn't know why she was—it was a terrible joke—but then her facial muscles weren't coordinating very well with her brain right now. "Are you alright? You seem unwell."

"I'm peachy," he replied, grinning. "Are you? I don't know if it's just me, but it looks like you're trying to smile."

She blushed again and tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a rather unconvincing "No, I'm not."

"I don't know, Caitlin, it looks suspiciously like it," he continued. "Laughing is like taking a crap, you know. You'll feel better once you let it all out."

"That's a rather enlightening analogy," she said dryly.

"I know. It's my privilege to be your enlightener." He flashed her another grin. "How much time do I have left?"

The question confused Caitlin for a moment before she remembered that she was supposed to be keeping time. She glanced at her phone. "Nine minutes."

"Good," he said. "So, how was your day?"

She blinked at him. She couldn't very well tell him that she'd spent the first two waking hours of the day discussing him with Felicity. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know about your day?" he said, looking amused. "Relax, Caitlin. It's a perfectly innocent question."

She licked her lips, tasting strawberry on her tongue, and unfurled and balled her fists again. She realised that she didn't exactly know how to handle a 'normal' conversation with him, like back when they were in that restaurant and he'd suddenly asked her what her favourite colour was. "It was okay," she began, reluctant. "I woke up, took a shower, and had brunch with Felicity, Cisco, and Jax."

"You always have brunch with them?"

"Usually," she said. "But it depends. Sometimes Jax hangs out with his other friends, sometimes Cisco sleeps in, and sometimes Felicity meets up with Oliver. It's never happened all at once, though, since eating on a Sunday morning is our ritual. Well, especially for me, Felicity, and Cisco. We've been doing it since high school." Caitlin suddenly cut herself off, surprised that she'd said so much.

Barry hummed. "Iris and I have something like that, too. We go grocery-shopping together on Sunday afternoons, since we always went grocery-shopping with our families on Sundays."

"You and Iris seem to go a long way back."

"Yeah, we were neighbours," he said. "Our dads got along really well, and my mom"—he paused for a split-second, so briefly that Caitlin might have imagined it—"was like a mom to Iris, too. Er, it's not my story to tell, but basically Iris's mom wasn't really around. So when our dads were out for work, my mom would watch us. We got really close. I mean, we're practically siblings."

"I see," she said. She bit her lip to contain herself from asking more questions, but she found herself wanting to know more about him, wanting to see beyond his carefree, popular boy-next-door façade. "You said your roommate was Iris' brother?" she ventured. "He doesn't go grocery-shopping with you?"

"Oh, Wally only came into the picture when we were about to graduate high school," Barry said. "It's a long story, really, I won't be able to finish it before the time"—he grinned briefly, but Caitlin knew better than to pry—"but he does tag along sometimes."

"Hmmm," she said. "I can't imagine you shopping for groceries."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not an insult," she said quickly. "I meant that you look like the type of person to stockpile enough supplies for a semester, instead of going out regularly. I mean, I know Cisco and Jax stockpile, so…"

"So you're imagining my dorm room packed with junk food in every possible open space, with a more than a handful of mouldy things in the fridge."

"That would be close to what I had in mind," she admitted, allowing a small smile.

"I'm hurt that you've such a low opinion of me," he said, pouting. "But hey, I at least, throw out the mouldy things. Like, once a week. Okay, fine, once a month. I swear it."

She raised a brow. "Very hygienic of you."

"Yep, our room's downright sterile compared to other dorms," he said cheerfully.

"But then you do stockpile junk food."

"Wally and I have a hidden stash," he admitted sheepishly. "We keep it from Iris, since she's roping us in on her whole organic food phase. Please don't tell her I told you."

"Don't worry," she said dryly, "I don't think your eating habits will ever become a topic of conversation between us."

"You'll never know," he warned. "Iris is really sneaky, okay. She's a damn good journalist and she gets really scary when she's trying to get to the bottom of something, like this one time—"

They both started when Caitlin's phone vibrated to indicate that time was up.

"Five more minutes?" Barry pleaded, giving her that infuriating kicked-puppy look that she was finding very hard to refuse, but Caitlin twisted a hand in her sweater and resolutely shook her head. She had to refuse, because if they kept talking like this, she didn't think she could stop asking him questions. Her natural curiosity was taking over, and she found herself increasingly interested in his life, even in his most mundane habits.

"Sorry," she said, "twelve minutes is twelve minutes. Time to work. I'll send you the file."

He groaned. "You're a slave driver."

"No, I'm a hard worker."

"Hard workers don't make other workers work hard too," he muttered. "Can I at least finish my story?"

She pressed the enter button harder than she should have. "Sent on Facebook."

"Caitliiin…"

"Barry…"

They both stared at each other, stubborn and unwilling to back down.

Caitlin's gaze unwittingly flitted to his upturned collar again. Her hand twitched at her side.

Felicity was right when she'd pointed out her compulsive need to clean, organise, or fix things, because now his stupid collar just wouldn't leave her alone. It wouldn't hurt to just fix it herself, would it? It would only take five seconds, maybe even less…

Ah, darn it all.

Before she knew it, she was reaching over and running her fingers on the rim of his collar, careful to avoid touching the skin of his neck. She gently tugged down the upturned portion and smoothened it over, particularly at the part where the fabric folded, so that it would stay down.

When she sat down again, she saw Barry giving her an odd look.

"Sorry," she muttered, heat rushing to her face, "it was sticking up, and, uh, it bothered me."

"Oh." A small, strange smile crept to his face. "Er, thanks."

"No problem."

There was a slight pause. And then, "So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "you sent the file on Facebook, right?"

Caitlin blinked, a bit puzzled by his lack of resistance. She felt something had changed in the air between them, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it…

Ah, well. As long as he was being cooperative and she wasn't a complete bumbling mess yet, she supposed that it couldn't have been a bad thing.