Anonymous asked for an undercover fic!
Rating: K+
~J.H.
"Why do we both have to go?" Caitlin whines, "why can't Barry just zip in there and give it to him?"
Doctor Wells sighs, "Caitlin, we've been over this. You're the only one who know how to inject the antiserum into this particular metahuman. Now, please can you just go?"
"Well, why can't he just bring him back here? I can inject the serum here, can't I?"
Cisco chimes in, "Caitlin, this metahuman can literally summon and control fire. Barry's fast, but we can't risk it. He might summon the firebefore Barry gets back to S.T.A.R. labs." When Caitlin opens her mouth to argue more, he adds, "And that would put Barry in danger," which shuts her up.
"Why don't I go by myself then?" she asks, "what's the point of Barry going if it'll only put him in danger?"
Barry walks into the lab, answering her question, "What, you think I'm going to let you go for a dangerous metahuman alone? No way."
Caitlin finally gives in, "Fine, I'll go."
"Great," Doctor Wells says, grinning, "the banquet starts at 6:00, tonight." He begins to exit the room, "And wear something nice!" he shouts over his shoulder.
They arrive at the banquet a little after six, "fashionably late" as Barry put it. Well, he did look fashionable in his suit and tie. Caitlin only hoped she looked good enough to fit in in her little black V-neck.
Walking into the building, Barry offers Caitlin his arm. She raises her eyebrows. "Come on, we're supposed to be posing as a couple," he prompts. She takes his arm, a little glad to have an excuse to be touching him.
"May I see your IDs, please?" an official-looking woman in a red dress with an iPad asks them as soon as they get inside. Barry searches his pockets as Caitlin rifles her purse for the fake IDs that Cisco had given to them. The woman glances at their IDs "Doctor and Mister…Sn—Snowallen?" she asks, searching through her iPad for a second.
"Yes, that's right," Caitlin says, feigning a smile at the woman as Barry tries not to laugh at the name Snowallen.
"Alright, you can head on in!" the woman hands their IDs back to them with a smile.
"Let's go, Doctor Snowallen," Barry says. She makes sure to step on his toes as they walk into the grand hall.
"Was that Cisco's idea of a joke?" Caitlin mutters, rolling her eyes. Then, she gets to business, "Okay, so Doctor Wells said the metahuman we're looking for—Tristan Waters—is a man in his early thirties, about six-foot-three, shouldn't be too…difficult." They walk into the ballroom, and find their task may be harder than they thought.
When Doctor Wells said "banquet", Caitlin was expecting a small get-together of maybe fifty people at most. But this hall was filled with at least four hundred people—and most of them? Most of them are young couples, about thirty.
Barry whistles, "Yeah, not too difficult at all."
"May I help you find your table?" a young man behind them asks, making them both jump.
"Yes, thank you," Caitlin gives him her sweetest smile, "We're under the name Snowallen."
The young man taps his iPad a couple times, before saying, "Please follow me, Doctor and Mrs. Snowallen."
"It's Doctor and Mister," Barry corrects, sounding suddenly offended.
He does a double take before regaining his composure, "My apologies, Doctor and Mister." Caitlin can't stop herself from rolling her eyes.
He leads them to a table where three other couples are already sitting, chatting with one another. "Here we go," Caitlin mutters.
After a dessert, they're still not any closer to finding Tristan Waters than when they got there. They've asked around, saying they were looking for an old friend, but nobody seemed to know him. They've even asked the staff, but apparently he wasn't on the guest list.
"We're never going to find him," Caitlin says grumpily, leaning back and massaging her temples, "We've tried everything. He must not be here. We should contact Doctor Wells and Cisco, tell them we can't find him—maybe we can get a manhunt out, get Joe to start investigating—Barry are you even listening to me?" She suddenly realizes that he hasn't said anything for a while, which isn't exactly a normal occurrence with Barry. Looking up, she sees that he's gone.
"He went to the dance floor," one of the young women, Cindy, says. Caitlin thanks her and rises, looking over at the dance floor. Barry is doing the Macarena to a song that definitely isn't the macarana. Around him, couples are trying to slow-dance, but getting distracted every time he shouts, "HEEYYY MACARENA!"
She sighs and makes a beeline to him—she just knew he'd had too much wine. She makes her way to the middle of the dance floor and grabs his arm, "Stop drawing attention to us!" she hisses.
"That's exactly what I want to do. We can make Tristain come to us." Barry says, winking.
"You're embarrassing me," she says through gritted teeth.
Barry gets a suddenly mischievous look on his face. "Then dance with me," he pulls her in. She's tempted to pull away for a moment, but then she realizes that she really wants to dance with him. So, she puts her arms around his neck and allows him to put his around her waist, and they begin to rock back and forth slowly.
After a few measures, he speaks, "So, are you gonna tell me why you're so against coming here, or are you just gonna continue being grumpy?"
She tries to change the subject, "You are so drunk. Why on earth would you think the Macarena?"
"Don't change the subject, Caitlin," he says, gently but sternly.
She sighs, "It was…our last date. Ronnie and me, I mean. We had a convention here, and…well, we had a really nice time." She's surprised that she isn't tearing up…usually a conversation about Ronnie ends in either her shutting people out or crying, but right now, it feels best to just dance and talk.
"Well," Barry says, smiling, "You had a fun time with your fiancée last time, so I think maybe you should have fun with your fake husband this time."
Fake husband. That draws a smile out, "I think you're right."
They dance for a few more mesuraes before Caitlin realizes something, "Hang on. Barry, you can't get drunk."
He responds with a grin.
"So why were you acting like a complete idiot?"
He shrugs, "Maybe I just wanted a dance with my fake wife."
She smiles again and begins to pull away, "Well, fake husband, are we going to find this metahuman or what?"
He pulls her back again, and she lets him. "The metahuman can wait," Barry says. His voice ruffles her hair;she feels a shiver run down her spine, "the dance can't."
Again, Caitlin feels a shiver run down her spine, but it's a pleasant shiver-a promising shiver.
Happy Thanksgiving!
~J.H.