Archive of Our Own

Barry knew that he'd get to see people from his past when he enrolled at CCU, but really this city of fourteen million people is too small.

He's in a club that does regular 18+ events, so it's packed with college students, especially clumsy first years. A few faces are very familiar because they're the older versions of his classmates at Carmichael. 

One of them, whose name he can't remember, trips in front of him just as he’s about to leave, and the drink the guy’s holding unexplainably flies over Barry's shoulder and lands on whoever's behind him.

His look of sympathy turns into a scowl because behind him, gaping furiously at his button down, is Tony Woodward. Barry recognizes him right away even though he looks quite different overall. He does have the same mean eyes.

Like in some cartoons, the offender has disappeared like a ninja when Barry looks in front of him again. Ah, maybe Tony’s still a bully.

Barry’s about to resume his way towards the front doors when he feels a hand grab him by the back of his collar. The next thing he knows he's in a dark alley at the back of the club.

For real? He doesn't even have a glass in hand, how could he have ruined Tony's shirt on purpose? Woodward clearly just needs someone to rough up because he’s going home without a girl willing to entertain him. 

Just because Barry was a wimp in elementary school doesn't mean that he is one now. In Tony's defense, it's dark both in the club and in the alley, so he likely hasn't recognized him because he doesn’t call him by name, and he possibly can't even tell that they're of a height. While Woodward’s more muscular, Barry's wider at the shoulders.

Oh well. Barry’s been bored all night and now he can apply all the combat skills he learned on his own but didn't test out when he was underage because he couldn’t afford to be a juvie.

But now who will know if he beats up Tony? Tony himself won’t tell anyone that he got his ass kicked by some lanky dude he tried to bully in the club. Seriously, how has he not changed since elementary school? The funny thing is that back then Tony bullied kids to get a special someone's attention.

Hey

Hey

Hey

"Hey, Hey! Stop it! Tony, hey, leave him alone!" Barry hears a voice shouts at the door behind him. It sounds familiar.

It doesn’t distract him, but Tony freezes for half a second upon hearing his name.

That's enough time for Barry to get a knee in the guy's firm but unflexed abs, and the six-foot-tall mass of muscles crumples to the pavement of the dark alley. 

And that's when Barry's brain lets him know that the voice behind him belongs to Iris West, of course, who else? He stupidly turns around to confirm that even though there can be no doubt about it.

He's not ready to see his childhood friend look like that ten years later.

She's partly illuminated by the light in the hallway, and while that wool crop top, vinyl miniskirt and high heels are transforming Barry's fight or flight mode into fight and fuck, her most outstanding feature is her mouth, painted a wicked shade of red. 

Barry’s on a dry spell so it’s not surprising that his brain goes on a little trip because of those scarlet lips. He imagines them nibbling his earlobe, kissing down the skin of his torso, and he blinks back to the present before his mind goes further down the gutter.

Your lipstick stains

On the front lobe of my left side brains

He’s a bit shocked to be in her presence after so many years.

Before he got into foster care, she was basically one of the reasons why he breathed. His parents and school were the other reasons.

He tried to forget her quickly after he got into foster care, but it took him maybe two years to stop hoping to reunite with her. He’s never begrudged the fact that she didn’t fulfill her promise to find him and strategize how to free his dad. They were kids with unrealistic dreams back then. 

And since Iris’ cop dad believes that Barry’s dad is a killer, so it’s possible that overtime Iris has come to believe that too.

“My dad’s a cop, so I highly recommend you get lost before I pick his sorry ass off the ground,” she coincidently warns him, pausing for a beat before coming into the alley, looking unafraid.

Of course she’s not scared of a guy who can beat up Tony since she can beat Tony too...still, right? She looks like she's kept up with her boxing lessons. "Athletic" is definitely the politically correct term to describe her body. No, for real, the way she walks steadily in those three inches, Barry bets that she can shuffle in them just fine.

He gets out of his daze and turns his face before she can get a good look at it. He doesn’t want to see her reaction if she identifies him. She probably won’t. The last time he looked at his family’s photo albums he didn't recognize himself. That was at least three years ago and he's changed from who he was back then too.

I knew I wouldn't forget you

And so I let you go and blow my mind

Iris moves faster than he expects, so she actually passes Barry to get to Tony before he starts walking away. He gets a whiff of her new scent: some perfume, some citrusy scent he suspects comes from hair products, and the rest seems to be just Iris West.

That smell plagues his dreams for a few weeks, along with her silhouette illuminated by that hallway light. How did he manage to get her out of his head for so many years?

The dreams of her wake him up in the middle of the night, horny like he’s never been since puberty hit him hard at age thirteen. He’s angry at his subconscious for being so masochistic. It’s not like he’s likely to see her again and even if he does, what then? She doesn’t want anything to do with him, that’s for sure. And if she’s still close to Tony despite knowing that he’s still a terrible kid, then Barry doesn’t want anything to do with her either.

Your sweet moonbeam

The smell of you in every single dream I dream

He does see her again two years later, at an end of the year frat party near campus. Cisco manages to drag him there because Cynthia Reynolds is attending. Dude’s got it bad but Barry gets it. Reynolds is smart, assertive, and just like Iris she’s tiny and very attractive with long dark hair. Apparently she’s adept at judo. Is it even surprising that Barry and Cisco have similar tastes in romantic interests?

Well, not really. Barry’s not interested in rekindling anything with Iris. Not that there was ever anything between them. They were best friends for four of their very young years, that’s all. He’s the idiot who caught feelings. The cute kind of feelings, childish and innocent.

Barry hasn't fallen in love with anyone since then because he doesn't want to. A girlfriend will make him want to live for himself, the way his dad wants him to. But he wants to get justice for both his mom and his dad. He still has to zoom through one more semester of undergrad and four semesters for his masters, which he'll be able to condense in three. But he can't rush, he needs his job application to be irresistible to CCPD.

At that frat party, Barry first sees Iris from the back. She's shoving and punching two guys half a foot taller and at least twenty pounds heavier than her. In their defense, they’re drunk and not actually fighting back, just trying to get their dirty grabby hands on her, the way they likely tried to get their hands on the honey blonde girl cowering and crying in a corner of the hallway. They’re next to the door of what Barry was told is the bathroom on this floor. Clearly he can’t go in there right this moment.

Barry thinks that he hears Iris click her tongue when one of the guys slaps her ass, and his heart picks up when he realizes that she’s been going easy on those dumbasses too. She steps on the offender’s foot with her three-inch heel, hard, before sending the other guy slam against the wall with an impressive right hook...on his nose? Damn!

Cop’s daughter, huh? Barry’s certain that her dad would highly disapprove of such use of violence, the way Barry’s own dad always does. A few weeks back Barry showed up to Iron Heights with a bruise on his jaw. A souvenir from Tony, who ambushed him on campus with his friends this time, in broad daylight and with a ridiculous number of witnesses. Barry obviously couldn’t fight back seriously, so he dodged as much as he could until he got that jab. Then he sent those five dumbasses on the lawn with quick leg sweeps.

The funny part of that day is that when he told Tony who is and advised him to grow up, one of the girls who witnessed the fight tried to hook up.

Her name’s...Jacky Cooper? No, Becky Cooper. She’s here at the party, and she hasn’t forgotten him from the way she smiled and winked at him when their gazes met for a second. He admires her boldness.

The guys that Iris has now shoved a few more times stop struggling and stay put in the spots where she leaves them. Hopefully waking up to a hangover and bruises will make them internalize the lesson she’s just taught them. 

The scared girl is only sniffing now, and Barry’s heart does something when he sees Iris’ expression go from annoyed to sympathetic when she crouches besides her. Come on, is she even real? She’s basically glowing with benevolence and purity of soul or something, which doesn’t quite match the mean hook she delivered a minute ago.

I knew when we collided

You're the one I have decided who's one of my kind

He walks away before either girl notices him. After letting the party’s organizer Scott Evans know that there’s a commotion upstairs, he uses another bathroom.

He’s ignored Becky Cooper’s eyelash-batting request to hook up for the third time tonight when a song he likes starts playing loud from the impressive speakers placed strategically around the house. He frowns when the name of the artist gets stuck on the tip of his tongue. For the life of him he can’t remember it even though he’s so familiar with the beat that his body is itching to move. He only dances in his bedroom. He’s not bad, actually compared to Cisco he’s a professional dancer, but he doesn’t want Becky to join him if he starts looking like he’s having a good time.

“Come on, dance with me!” Iris’ voice says way closer than Barry expects her to be since he hasn’t seen her approach at all. “That’s my song!”

“You say that all the time but I bet you don’t even know who’s singing it,” her friend replies with a laugh.

From the back, Iris’ friend looks like what Barry imagined Iris herself would look like today: wearing her natural curls, accent earrings, a leather jacket over a crop top and practical jeans and boots. Looking nice but functional.

“I know the singer! It’s...ugh, I know! I swear, I’m just blanking out right now!” Iris defends as she moves in sync with the music, her sinuous movements making her long straight hair wave around, dark and silky, brushing shoulders that are covered in a red dress that might as well be her second skin.

Barry’s throat suddenly gets dry so he sips on a chilled beer before deciding that he needs a distraction. He steps towards Becky, who beams when he asks her if she wants to dance.

Hey, soul sister

Ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo

The way you move ain't fair, you know

He tries to keep his eyes off of Iris, he really does, but even Becky can tell that his mind is somewhere else. She makes a surprisingly classy exit after grinding against him for two more songs: she pretends to take his phone number, nods with a tight smile when he tells his dead mom’s cell phone number from memory, and walks away after throwing a “see you around”.

Having lost his cover, Barry finds a corner by a crowded couch and discreetly observes Iris West for another hour. He doesn’t feel very guilty for ogling her, not even when he goes from just admiring her body to wanting to touch it everywhere to planning on jacking off to the image of her when he gets home.

Hey, soul sister

I don't want to miss a single thing you do

Tonight

Hey

Hey

Hey

“Hey, man I think I’ll stay, want the car?” Cisco’s slightly slurred voice takes Barry’s gaze away from Iris.

He almost spits his beer when he sees that his best friend is holding hands with Reynolds, who looks as put together as when the party started. She juts her chin up at Barry and croaks a “hey” of her own.

Lucky bastard!

“Uh, no, I’m definitely too drunk to drive, you keep them,” Barry lies before telling the truth, “I feel like walking, getting some fresh air, you know?”

“You sure?” Cisco asks, looking somewhere behind Barry’s shoulder before he squeezes his car keys in the palm not holding Cynthia’s. “Okay, muchacho! Don’t regret it later! Let’s go, Cindy.”

Barry shrugs, and after chugging down another beer, his third of the night. He tries to spot Iris again but she’s nowhere to be found. Oh well, he’s had his fill. Time to go home. His apartment is less than an hour away.

Technically it’s Hartley’s apartment, and he would’ve let Barry crash for free but Barry convinced the billionaire’s kid he met via an online game to let him pay a token rent despite the "mutual benefit" that comes from them being roommates. After all, Barry would be homeless without him. He owes him much more than he's paying for having his name on that lease.

It's a nice and spacious place, three bedroom two bath, all amenities in-unit and in a luxurious apartment complex that has a fancy gym, swimming pool, sauna, a doorman at all hours of the day every day of the year, and a concierge during business hours. The concierge’s even French, or maybe Quebecois.

Hartley trusts Barry to be a good roommate, which he is. But he’s imposed an odd rule about guests, or rather about hookups: they can’t bring their one-night stands at the same time because Hartley has decided that they can only have mindless sex in the guest bedroom, not their own "sanctuaries". 

It makes some sort of sense, but that guest bedroom is so devoid of personality that indeed, just as Hartley expects, no one even thinks of lingering around after the deed is done. Hartley says that real dates are free to stick around as long as either of them is also in the apartment...but of course neither he or Barry dates.

Hartley has been a bit wild in the past few months with hookups, but a little scare calmed him down. Barry thinks that he’s under stress because he’s learning how to manage his family’s multi-billion business even though he’d rather just be an inventor. 

As for Barry…school and lab are kicking his butt, for sure, so it’s been two years now since he’d last had sex horizontally. It's just been bathroom quickies, ever since…

Anyways, he partly agreed to go to the frat party with Cisco because Hartley's out of town so he meant to go home with company, but instead of checking out what Becky had in mind he got fixated on Iris. Iris West, who doesn’t even remember that he exists.

The notion is so ridiculous that Barry laughs into the night as he walks away from the rowdy student area, ignoring the car that rides slowly behind him. If it’s Tony, he’ll gladly whoop his ass this time. Watching Iris’ dance tonight has made him all jittery so he wouldn’t mind letting off some steam. 

“You’re hard to find, Barry Allen, you know that?” Is not what he expects to hear.

From Iris. Iris West.

That’s who is in the sedan slowly rolling off the curb.

“In freshman year, I thought that I’d find you at the pre-med student club, but no luck there,” she says conversationally, like her chatting with him is a normal occurrence. “I almost gave up, but last month I realized that of course you’d still want to exonerate your dad rather than become a doctor like him. So I checked the criminology department. I felt like a detective already when the academic advisor I talked to confirmed that my friend Barry visits regularly to make sure that he’s taking all the courses that will strengthen his application for the masters program. We might take the same psychology class next fall, by the way. Glad I saved that sociology requirement for later.”

She stops the car when Barry stops walking to gape at her.

“But what kind of detective am I when I can't recognize my own best friend?" She asks rhetorically with an eye roll at herself. “It’s Tony of all people who just told me who you are, like...ten minutes ago. I did notice you watching me and Natalie earlier, oh! Please don’t tell Scott that I’m the one who knocked down his friends! So yeah, I noticed you, and I recognized you from the club, of course, but...that sounds dumb, I know, but you don’t look like what I imagined you would.”

“Same,” Barry’s mouth says without his brain’s input. “I mean, of course you look like yourself, it’s just—”

“I don’t look like someone that my ten-year-old self would’ve wanted to hang out with, yeah,” she admits before giggling in a way Barry can’t believe Iris West can.

It’s all the more of a turn-on when he’s seen with his own eyes how badass she still is.

“I know that it might not sound sincere, but,” Iris says before she turns off the engine and steps out of the car, though she remains against the door. “I did look for you, Barry. Not often enough because my dad had a fit when I tried to contact your dad to ask about you. He’s against me becoming a police detective just like him, and he might actually kick me out of the house if I don't change my career path. I don’t care, I have friends who'll let me crash on their couch until I find a place of my own."

"What?" Barry reacts more quietly than he should. 

Homelessness was his greatest source of anxiety in the months preceding his eighteenth birthday. The idea of Iris facing it now, after years of having the comfort of living at her dad's...

"I made you a promise and I plan on keeping it," she asserts with a casual shrug. "Just because we were kids when I made it doesn't mean that it doesn’t count.”

Barry can’t believe this.

All this time he's assumed that she forgot her own idea that the best way to prove his dad's innocence was for them to work for the police and reopen the case of his mom's murder themselves. Barry already loved science back then, and Iris knew from her dad that "evidence lab" people worked closely with investigators just like on TV. Being a cop was in her blood, so of course she'd be the detective.

He doesn’t know what to say now.

“Your phone is vibrating,” she tells him before he registers that indeed, he’s getting a phone call.

He misses it. It’s Hartley, who texts him ten seconds later. Is he coming back earlier than planned? It's two a.m. on Sunday. 

I forgot to tell you that I’m not coming back until Wednesday. Don’t let Ramon step a foot in my crib or I’ll evict you.

Don't let hookups linger around either. Carpe diem! Remember that you might get too disgusted with the entire human race once you start working for the police. Marathon sex while you still can.

He’s got a point, but Barry missed his chance with Becky tonight.

“Emergency? Need a ride?” Iris asks curiously.

“I’m fine,” he answers too quickly, too bluntly, and he winces when he sees the hurt in her eyes.

He's lashed out because he begrudges her tone. It's so light and carefree. It’s all good that she wants to reconnect, but what does she know about what he's been through? About getting a good first foster family, only for the foster dad to be arrested just because he shared his homegrown weed with his neighbors? Or what does she know about being hungry for days because the food at the junior high school’s cafeteria looked like the same jail food he imagined his dad was forced to live on?

Nothing, she knows nothing of who he is today and it upsets him she's talking to him as if they've stayed in touch all along.

“Sorry,” she apologizes quietly as she opens her car door, her head and eyes down. “I just now realize how creepy I’ve been sounding for the last five minutes...I stalked you through the school...sorry.”

“I'm the creepy one, I watched you dance all night,” he blurts out, sighing at his own stupidity when her head whips back towards him and she stares with wide eyes. “I...um, I mean, I was just looking but...I knew that it was you."

"Oh," she reacts mildly.

"I welcome your help to prove my dad’s innocence, of course," he changes subjects, hoping that what he's just said hasn't made her change her mind about that. 

Be nice, be nice...be grateful, yeah.

"Thank you for thinking about me—us, after all these years, Iris. Truly, I’m grateful—”

“Say my name again?” She requests out of the blue.

“Iris?” he repeats, and blinks at the way she grips the door tighter and...bites her lips in a much too enticing way.

She probably doesn’t actually realize how sexy she is. As a kid she wasn't very self-aware of her awesomeness either. She never figured out that back at Carmichael Tony started bullying Barry just to get her attention because she was the coolest kid on the playground.

“I’ve been watching you watch me all night, Barry,” she confesses breathily. “I didn’t know it was you, just that you’re the guy who knocked down Tony outside the club in freshman year, so I was weirded out by the...way I was drawn to you. I almost broke an ankle running to my car when Tony told me that it’s you. My dad would kill me if he knew how fast I drove around, your long legs carry you fast. I...oh God. Sorry, I don’t—”

She looks mortified, because yeah, from a complete stranger Barry would be weirded out by what she's saying.

But this is Iris, and he might not know her well, but...

“My roommate’s out of town,” he chances, the sharp glint of interest in her eyes blowing his mind.

He absentmindedly thinks that Hartley has the best timing in the world yet again. The rest of his mind is trying to keep his body in control because now that he knows that he has a chance to get this Iris West naked on his bed, he feels dizzy with lust...and he's in love with her loyalty, he won't lie to himself.  And the fact that she's felt drawn to him even without knowing his identity. That's so flattering.

He needs to calm down because if there's a one-night stand he needs to make count, it's this one.

Just in time

I'm so glad you have a one-track mind like me

You gave my life direction

A game show love connection we can't deny

In the morning he might remember that they whisper "are you sure? Yes, yes, I'm sure" at the same time after she parks them at a guest parking slot; or that she looks vaguely impressed by the neighborhood and the apartment itself, her hand gently holding his as he lets her in; and he might remember the way she smiles fondly at his collection of video games and pricey molecular kits that he doesn’t actually need for any of his chemistry classes.

He doesn't really care right this moment,  when Iris peels her dress off her body, catching two nipple covers as she brings it overhead.

Right there Barry knows that he needs to make her come with oral first. He definitely needs to discreetly control his dick. The best way to hide his lack of chill is to have Iris distracted with her own pleasure.

“Barry? Oh...oh,” she whispers when he sits her down on his bed when she still has her panties on. 

He goes down on his knees, right where he's strategically dropped his jacket because the apartment is all hardwood floor. Then he slides her lacy underwear down her silky smooth legs, appreciating the way her boobs bounce when she thrusts her hips up to accommodate his movement.

He quietly chokes on air after he slips the thing off her ankles because he now sees that it’s all soaked up, and it's a thong so he mildly regrets not taking the time to admire Iris’ ass with it on. 

That's alright because he's got Iris West gloriously naked in front of him.

“I-I, I’m clean but...but I,” Iris stutters when he opens her legs wider with a gentle grip on her knees. “I got a dental dam in there.”

She points at her hand bag. She purses her lips in concern when he blinks at her for a few seconds.

She probably thinks that she’s killed the mood or that he doesn’t even know what a dental dam is. The first assumption is true, but it’s not a bad thing. He welcomes the dampening of his libido. Now he’s not worried about finishing too soon.

Also, he’s feeling dumb for not reassuring her that he is clean too. He did a comprehensive STD test a few weeks back, in solidarity with Hartley who freaked out because he had a one night stand and didn’t use a condom during the unexpected second round. 

Where did Barry put his test results already?

“It’s fine, here,” he tells Iris while he stands up, still wearing his jeans and socks—is she uncomfortable being the only one fully naked?

“Oh wow,” she reacts when he passes her the three z-folded sheets of paper. 

She skims through the pages carefully, and Barry takes advantage of that moment to get naked and to admire the curves of her body, estimating where his hands can hold her better for this position or that. She’s closed her legs but that makes him salivate all the more because he's already seen what she looks like down there and he can’t wait to–

“Oh, Barry,” she exclaims softly, and her sad eyes and sympathetic tone throws him for a loop. “Did…do you want kids? There are advanced IVF procedures nowadays, right? And there’s adoption, of course.”

Ah, she's read the partially inaccurate diagnosis of his fertility. 

“No, no, I’m in this clinical trial for money,” he tells her as he settles back down at her feet, not lowering on his heels this time so he can be at eye level with her. His king size mattress is comfortable but his bed frame is low and hollow for drawers.

“They’re testing the safety of a contraceptive pill for men," he specifies when her expression turns confused. "I’m not worried about long-term effects because it’s safe, efficient and reversible in mice, pigs and monkeys. Good thing too, because those ethical guidelines are icky. Testing on monkeys, really? Good thing I'm not going into biomedical research.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well-versed in medical ethics,” Iris admits sheepishly. “But a pill for men sounds cool...definitely revolutionary?”

“Actually they’ve been using the natural form of that pill in India and other tropical parts of the world for centuries,” he informs her with a shrug then discreetly starts caressing her smooth legs. “And they created this ‘modern’ pill before World War II but they didn’t have the funding to test it until five years ago, because of course who in this patriarchal society would approve of something that can stunt men’s fertility? Even though it’s reversible. It’s fascinating really, but the chloroform extract of papaya seeds—”

He cuts himself off because why the hell should he bore Iris with the molecular biology of azoospermia? One of his dates back in high school broke up with him because he was too much of a nerd for her. He can't make Iris run because of that too.

“Sorry I—” he starts apologizing, and while his brain takes a while to figure out why his lips suddenly can’t form words anymore, his blood doesn’t waste time to fill up his dick again because...Iris is kissing him.

She’s dropped his test results to grab his face and is now pressing a passionate kiss on his lips. He’s already obsessed with the feel of her soft and warm skin on his.

Now that his brain has caught up with the rest of his body, he readily opens his mouth to allow Iris to slip her tongue in, and oops, she tastes like mints but he probably reeks of beer. It doesn’t seem to put her off because she starts moving her hands all over his body, making him lean forward and up. He shivers in pleasure when she gently scratches his scalp. 

What...what is this? It’s like they never stopped seeing each other. She still knows how to make him follow her lead  effortlessly. His heart is beating so fast and so hard that it might make a hole in his chest trying to escape. It’s not really escaping, it just wants Iris to rightfully take it...uh-oh. 

That's bad, right? This is clearly a reunion hookup, nothing more. He can't get attached, not that way.

He’ll worry about that later. Right now he’s busy making Iris moan with kisses on her neck. He’s obsessed with her voice, too.

I'm so obsessed

My heart is bound to beat right out my untrimmed chest

Once she lies on her back he kisses down her body, wishing he could record that throaty sound she makes when he sucks her tits for a good minute or two or ten.

He eventually drops back down on his knees off the bed, sitting on his heels and craning his neck to bring his mouth where his fingers are already teasing her outer lips. She gets on her elbows to watch him settle between her legs, looking curious and excited.

He doesn’t feel pressured, he knows that he’s good at eating pussy. In fact, he’s very sure that he’s going to blow Iris’ mind in a few minutes. Ever since he read an insightful Cosmopolitan article about the entire clitoris at the clinic, he’s been looking forward to leveling up his cunnilingus game.

“Oh my—fuck!” Iris almost shouts, and Barry smiles when he hears her fall back flat on the mattress.

He stimulates her pleasure center from outside with his lips and from inside with his fingers. Her whimpers and moans are music to his ears. 

Her thighs clamp down on his head for a few stuffy seconds, but she then reduces the tension in her quads. That helps him open one leg again with his free hand, and he makes her yelp when his middle finger  finds her G-spot. She must be aware that she almost smothered him because she hisses a quick “sorry” before dissolving back into incoherent noises that stroke his ego.

The sounds of her wetness on his tongue and fingers are so obscenely loud to his ears that they finish to make him painfully hard again. He manages to tune out his mild discomfort and focus on licking around and over her clit.

He has to remove the two fingers he's got in her so he can instead dip his tongue inside and suck off her juices. She’s gushing all over and it’s great, really it’s awesome. That and her hand coming down to keep his head exactly where it is are undeniable proof that he’s doing things right. 

But he’s just realized that he forgot to replace the duvet cover. He’s having sex directly on the duvet he splurged on with his first paycheck as a lab assistant! So now he’s trying to minimize the mess.

Hartley's rule makes sense now, but Barry wasn't exactly thinking straight when he should've.

Once he's swallowed most of Iris' liquid arousal he slides his fingers right back in her pussy, three this time, and fuck, the way she sighs while she squeezes his knuckles gets him aching to fuck her with his cock.

Barry should be freaking out, shouldn’t he? He’s about to dick Iris West. It sounds like a crime punishable by death or something. And some silly part of him feels like it's a sin too. 

Of course it's not. What he's doing is more worshipful than sinful. She's clearly enjoying it.

I believe in you, like a virgin, you're Madonna

And I'm always gonna wanna blow your mind

Barry's selectively religious because he started going back to mass in order to stay close to Cisco, who's also catholic. Cisco almost snubbed him when he learned that he's friends with Hartley at the end of freshman year. The mechanical engineer and acoustic physicist are academic rivals,  and if you ask Barry their interactions are more entertaining than most sitcoms.

When Cisco started avoiding him, Barry figured out that he wouldn't leave him hanging if he brought up the fact that he wanted to go to church but couldn't go to the cathedral he used to go with his parents because no city bus gets close enough. Predictably Cisco offered to drive him, and that first evening Barry treated him to food as a thank you. Cisco accepted but let him know that he was benefiting from the arrangement too: attending the evening mass meant that he could skip the morning mass with his parents and brother at the cathedral where everyone asks him when he's going to cut his hair.

It's their one regular hangout time, that quick bite after mass. It's nice to have that one sure social time because now that they're deep in their internships there are weeks when they're so busy that they barely get to see each other during the week.

Attending mass regularly and even going through a confession or two has also helped Barry with thoughts of his dad.

Very inappropriately, Barry wonders how his dad will react to learning that he's reunited with Iris while he goes back down to drink her up.

“Just a minute,” he tells her when she whines in complaint because he's stopped what he hopes is the best cunnilingus she's ever had. 

He straightens back up on his knees. Outside of the cocoon of her thighs the air is relatively chilly because he automatically switched on the air conditioner when he entered the bedroom. Spring has felt like summer this entire weekend. 

He soothingly runs his dry hand back and forth on Iris' thigh, and she lets the hand she's had on his head drop back on the bed sheets. 

He licks his fingers while he stands up,  tracking a wet trail with the tip of his tongue all the way down to his wrist—fuck, they might not need any lube at all.

He’s been about to get some, as well as condoms, but first he opens a drawer in his bed frame to grab a beach towel.

"Oh, yes, oh my God, Barry," Iris says excitedly, and he feels better about his frantic heart when he sees the hearts in her eyes. "I've never done it without a condom before, and...all these years I thought it was stupid to think that we'd ever have anything...special? I-I'm...sorry I…"

"Hey, it's okay," he manages to whisper gently right after his brain recovers from a brief but brutal short-circuit.

Not just because Iris' been fantasizing about fucking him for years, but also because he's just caught up to her reasoning about doing it without a condom, which he's never done either.

But they're both clean and he is, for all intent and purposes, sterile. There's zero risk of her getting pregnant.

Holy mother of God. He's definitely not going to last.

So he goes back down on her and makes her come a first time...only for her to climax a second time on his dick, way ahead of him.

"Iris, oh fu-uck," he grunts as he grinds his pelvis against hers, stopping his thrusting movement because the way she's spasming around him right there is too good to slide back out.

And of course spilling inside her is a unique experience, and the prickly discomfort of her nails digging into his shoulders helps him stay lucid enough to watch her face as he...fuck, she really let him do that!

Her swollen lips are parted as she heaves in quick breaths, her pink-red lipstick is all smudged, and her pupils are wide as she gazes at him. 

Something passes between them, and it's then that his brain belatedly processes flashes of the night. These flashes confirm that yes, she did look back when she was roughing up the drunk guys earlier, and the reason why he couldn't focus on Becky was that he felt watched, it just didn't occur to him that it was Iris herself who was observing him right back.

His urge to cuddle is what brings him back down to earth. He kisses her neck a bit before he pulls out, not quite able to interpret her humming sound when he leans away from her.

The cleanup has to be the messiest both of them has ever dealt with. Iris giggles embarrassingly as he keeps dabbing his cum away with the towel, and they decide to just take a shower.

He uses the lube, after all, grabbing it before joining Iris in the bathtub after she riles him up by pointing out that some of his cum will stay inside her for days regardless of how much water she runs between her legs. 

He uses the detachable showerhead and his fingers to make her come, and he almost makes them both fall when she helps him soap up and slips her finger behind his balls, pressing on that tender part of his perineum. 

"Yeah?" She asks him almost innocently when he drops his forehead on her shoulder after slapping his hand against the wall for support. "Ever felt it from inside?"

"N-not really, no," he admits to her, though he's let Hartley believe that he's got some experience because he swings both ways.

He has necked a few guys and has never turned down mutual handjobs, so he definitely can't swear allegiance to the strictly hetero club. He's never gone all the way because the other guy always makes a run for it when he confesses that it's his first time.

"If you're...ever...interested," Iris tells him in between soft kisses on his neck, and unless he's mistaken she's kissing his moles individually. "Let me know, hmm? I'll buy a strap-on."

She punctuates her idea with a gentle slap of his right butt cheek.

Fuck. she's dangerous.

After they dry off, she plays music on her phone and among the tracks there's another song he likes but whose artist's name he can't remember.

Iris plaits her now puffy hair while moving sinuously just like at the party but also differently. Barry can't believe how the night has turned out for him.

Hey, soul sister

Ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo

The way you move ain't fair, you know

Speaking of. Is this really a one-night stand? The way Iris talks...she expects them to do it again, right? Does she want them to be friends with benefits, or for them to date? He's the one who took her to his bedroom instead of the guest one, but of course she doesn’t know about Hartley’s rule. 

Still, he can’t kick her out. Even if she didn’t want to help him free his dad, the idea just feels wrong. So when she asks him if she can use his mouth wash and if by any chance he’s got satin pillowcases, he gladly answers yes to both.

They don’t even discuss anything about sleeping arrangements, they just slip under that duvet, which is oh so worth its price.

Before sleep claims him, Barry shamelessly watches Iris sleep because, in her near stillness with no makeup on and two jumbo braids, she does look like the Iris he remembers. His heart is so full, of what? He can’t tell at the moment, but it feels good. It helps him drift off into the easiest sleep he’s had in a long time.

Hey, soul sister

I don't want to miss a single thing you do

Tonight

The sound of Hartley's radio alarm wrenches Barry away from a dream that leaves a peaceful and pleasant impression at the edge of his conscious mind. He groans into his pillow when he realizes that he can’t even fall back asleep, he’s got to switch off Hartley's alarm or the hip-hop and R&B tracks will keep playing along with annoying commercials.

Couldn't Hartley take his damn alarm with him?

"Not quite Gospel but good music still. Didn’t you say that your roommate is out of town, though?"

Barry gets whiplash with how fast he sits up, and his jaw drops when he sees Iris dance in his bedroom while she fastens the buttons of his shirt. Because she’s wearing it.

He excuses himself to take care of his morning wood. It takes no time because Jesus. Forget the dream, reality is that much sweeter, which is so not something that Barry has ever imagined thinking since he was ten years old.

Wait. Is Iris planning on staying for breakfast too? 

“Hey, mind if I do my hair real quick?” Iris asks after he flushes the toilet and starts washing his hands.

Maybe She is leaving...in his shirt, though?

“Anything you can lend me so I won’t flash my legs to your roommate?” She requests.

Staying for breakfast. Okay. It’s not that Barry finds her assumption presumptuous at all, really he’s not even uncomfortable, just surprised. 

"It's a radio alarm, he forgot to switch it off before leaving," Barry lets her know as he automatically reaches for the bottle containing his experimental pills.

He quickly stops by Hartley’s room—thankfully he forgot to lock the door, too—then by the kitchen for a glass of water, returning to his bathroom just in time to watch Iris take down her braids. As he brushes his teeth his mind is less focused on how domestic they are and more focused on how effortlessly she’s turned her messy hair into gorgeous loose waves. All the while she's still dancing, humming the last song that was playing on the radio. She's really a good dancer. Barry could watch her all day.

The way you can cut a rug

Watching you's the only drug I need

She stops moving to the beat in her head when they get back to his bedroom and he pulls out pajama pants. What’s wrong? 

"You've got tattoos," she says, sounding impressed.

Oh. Right. 

He's got a series of tattoos down the back of his right leg. Because of them, Cisco regularly cracks the joke that Barry is the most thug nerd ever. Little does he know how sentimental the tattoos are. There’s even a representation of Iris there. He’d done it to honor their innocent kids’ dream of getting justice for his parents.

So gangster, I'm so thug

You're the only one I'm dreaming of, you see

He sees her inspect the tattoos, so he waits before wearing his pants, and he even lifts his bent knee when she steps closer.

Above the back of his knee is a human skull crying blood. One tear drips down the empty eye socket, past gothic crosses that look like a jail cell if one squints at the right angle. The blood drop disappears into the superior vena cava of a human heart. The other blood tear becomes a 'red snowflake' that Caitlin recognized: it’s actually the heme-iron complex’s chemical structure of the hemoglobin molecule. Lastly, on Barry's calf is the tombstone of ‘Ustitia’, Justice. There's a cluster of blue flowers on the left top corner of the tombstone, and a single purple flower opposite to it. There’s a bouquet of yellow flowers at the base of the tombstone.

"A vestige of my rebellious phase," he informs Iris with a shrug when she looks slightly shocked by the macabre tone of the skin art. "I'm glad that I had the clarity of mind to have them at an inconspicuous spot. They all hurt like hell, though."

"The flowers...oh," Iris whispers, and he sees recognition downs in her gorgeous and curious eyes. "Bluebells, right? They're your favorite because the earliest bloomers pop up around your birthday. I always forget the name of the species."

"Mertensia virginica," he reminds her.

She nods, and frowns at the yellow spotted purple flower on the other side of the tombstone.

"Wait, that's...that's not a tall-bearded Iris, is it?" She asks, almost touching the tattoo.

"No, because those disrespectfully go dormant before your birthday," he points out as he lowers his leg, instinctively smiling big when Iris giggles.

He's back in love with her, isn't he? It only took one night...or did he ever fall out of love with her in the first place?

"That one is Iris latifolia," he tells her while he wears his pants and grabs a shirt. 

"It's a bulbous one, not a rhizomatous one like the tall bearded iris," he specifies. "It's known as the English Iris, which is a misnomer since it's actually native to the Pyrénées and it does bloom for the first time from June to mid July...sorry."

He apologizes because Iris has gently grabbed his wrist while they’re both stepping towards the door.

She wants him to shut up, right? He's such a nerd!

"No, no, sorry, I-I... I love it," she stutters, and when he looks closely he notices that her pupils are slightly dilated. 

Wait. No way.

Yes, way, because as soon as he lowers his chin she surges up to kiss him, first softly but then she holds onto his shoulder with her other hand and coaxes his mouth open to slide her tongue in his mouth.

Wow, wow. She really gets turned on by his nerd talk? That’s so perfect. Everything about Iris is perfect. Why the hell did he not try to reconnect two years ago? Better late than never. They definitely should date, for real...

I can be myself now finally

In fact there's nothing I can't be

I want the world to see you be with me

Wait. Wait.

This is too good to be true, isn’t it?

“Please tell me that this isn’t part of a sick bet you made with Tony,” he blurts out after suddenly stepping away from her.

“What?” She asks, first looking confused as she bites her bottom lip, then she looks outraged. “What? Why would I do that? With Tony of all people? He bullied the two of us as kids!”

“Yet you still hang out with him,” he accuses her, not expecting the snort that comes out of her.

“He’s my best friend’s boyfriend, I don’t have much choice on the matter,” she informs him.

Best friend...is it that other girl, the one she danced to ‘her song’ with at the party?

“We used to be best friends,” he brings up. “But that was years ago, and...last night I was kinda going with the flow so I’m not sure what we—Iris?”

She’s walking away, back in his room, and he thinks that she means to leave when she comes back with her purse, but no. Of course she can’t leave dressed like that.

She takes out her wallet, opens it, and retrieves two pictures from it, which she shoves in his hand.

The first one is of them at nine years old, smiling into each other’s faces below Barry’s mom. They’re holding cotton candy because they’re at the then new theme park. Barry remembers the day well because his dad is the one who took that picture, and it’s only one out of twenty, he’s got the nineteen others in his family’s photo albums. 

Barry also remembers that Iris refused his mom’s offer to go with her on the rides that she could do but Barry couldn’t because of his height. 

The other picture is almost a year older than the first and was taken by his mom. Barry remembers that day even better because there’s a video of his and Iris’ marriage officiated by Mr. Dinosaur. In the picture Iris is holding a bouquet of wild bluebells, and Barry’s blushing furiously because Joe standing to his right has warned him to wait until after college to propose to his daughter for real. That’s why Barry’s dad is laughing in that picture instead of smiling at the camera like the rest of them.

Barry struggles to take calming breaths.

His life was so good back then. It’s not that he’s had it so bad considering the stories that his former foster siblings shared with him, but...at eight years old, he thought that his life would be straightforward: finish school, go to college then med school to become a physician just like his dad. All the while he’d date Iris starting in high school and as per Joe’s request would wait until after college to marry her. They’d be happy just like his parents, and would have children who would call Joe ‘Poppa’.

“Barry, hey, bear,” Iris calls out softly, dropping her bag and wallet on the couch before she places a gentle hand on his side, craning her head when she steps closer to hold his gaze.

It’s a bit difficult on his side since silent tears are rolling down from them.

“I never stopped believing,” she tells him with quiet conviction. “In your account of that terrible night, in Henry’s innocence, but most importantly in you and me. In us.”

“We...w-we were just kids,” he feels like he’s said that too often, mostly to himself.

“Hopefully you weren’t a kid when you got that Iris latifolia tattooed on your leg,” she teases him. 

“Fifteen years old, but I was chaperoned,” he lets her know with a chuckle.

“I wish that I could tolerate the pain, but waxing is limit for me,” she jokes and he laughs this time and after returning the photos he wipes his tears. “If I could I'd get a Missouri primrose, maybe? Nora loved them. It’s...Barry?”

“It’s you,” he whispers, gripping her forearm as his life makes more sense.

Yes, as far as Barry can remember, his mom loved the bright yellow flowers, but they weren’t her favorite. She loved peonies best.

Yet the first time that he visited her grave on his own at fifteen years old, he found a gorgeous bouquet of Missouri primroses placed against her tombstone. His mom was well-loved, so Barry simply assumed that it was from a friend. He tucked the wild peonies inside the wrap. 

Every year it was the same thing, and Barry vaguely wondered who was the sweet family friend who always kept his mom’s resting place so pretty. He never dared ask his dad.

“Yeah, and sorry for placing them on top of your rose each time,” Iris’ reply makes him blink. “I mean, your tattoos confirm that you like gothic aesthetics, but still. A black rose, Barry, really? And an artificial one to boot?”

“Wait, what?” He questions, confused. “No, I never...I always added peonies to your bouquet! Why would I—wait, a black rose?”

It’s been a long time so maybe he’s remembering wrong, but wasn’t there a black rose on the floor of his parents’ living room the night of his mom’s murder? 

“It wasn’t you?” Iris asks or rather guesses. “So who...every single year?”

“We might find out next week,” he declares solemnly.

His mom’s birthday is approaching. Interestingly, Barry, Iris and that mysterious person bringing the black rose all visit the graveyard on her birthday rather than on her death anniversary. 

Their growling stomachs break the tension, and Barry is once again pleasantly surprised that Iris doesn’t mind one of the common and practical reasons why he and Hartley don’t date: they’re on a vegan diet.

Barry’s last foster dad is a retired chef who forced the whole household to follow a plant-based diet with him after he got diagnosed with prediabetes. Nobody cared since everything he cooked was still delicious. 

Barry was seventeen when he joined that foster home, and he spent a lot of time in the kitchen because he knew that he’d need cooking skills to get by on his own.

Little did he know that those skills were exactly what a clan mate from his favorite online game was looking for. Hartley, as rich in real life as in the game, was annoying everyone begging for advice from any fellow vegan out there. He was struggling with food because he missed going to gourmet restaurants and enjoying the food made by his parents’ chef. He wanted to move out and live on his own for college, but he was sure that he’d starve to death because there were no vegan chefs that his parents could hire for him.

The timing was insane. Barry thinks about it every day that he wakes up in this luxurious apartment.

“We’ll need to do a stakeout to catch that black rose person,” Iris says before moaning in pleasure at the first bite of a slice of pain perdu topped with caramelized gooseberries and ground cherries from the farmers market. “Oh my God Barry! I think that dad will reopen your mom’s case himself if you make that for him. He also makes his French bread with an authentic stale French baguette, remember? Just don’t tell him that it’s vegan, say that the recipe is a secret.”

“There truly is a secret ingredient,” Barry lies blatantly.

“I can’t cook to save my life but I have eyes, Barry Allen” she declares with an eye roll. “You just veganized the eggs, milk and butter.”

“Wait, for real? You can’t cook?” Barry asks, more weirded out that he thinks her all the more perfect for it.

“Not all of us can have it all, Barry Allen,” she ironically drawls. “I mean, seriously Barry. Now I expect breakfast in bed when you sleep over at my place.”

Oh. About that.

“We...we’re dating, right?” He has to ask. “No marriage promises, of course, but for now…”

“I’ll make you fall in love with me, Barry, you just wait,” Iris jokes, then quickly adds, “I mean it in the least creepy way possible.”

“That ship sailed when you stalked me in your car in the middle of the night!” Barry teases her and they both burst in laughter.

He doesn’t tell her that he’s already in love. He’d rather show her first.

He does by kissing her on the mouth in front of everyone at the next party, which is Hartley’s and is held at the party room of the apartment complex because of course there is one. No one but Iris and Barry’s friends know that he lives there too, especially when he leaves with Iris. They’ve just danced to their favorite pop song so now’s as good a time as any to isolate themselves.

“Honest talk, I don’t know the singer’s name of the song we just danced to,” Iris admits with a chuckle. 

“I know, I mean, I know that you don’t know, and neither do I,” Barry quickly replies. "We should just look it up."

"Nah," she says with a shrug. "Let's call the guy mister...mister. Yeah."

"Mr. Mister?" He teases, amused.

Hey, soul sister

Ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo

The way you move ain't fair, you know

They take their time getting ready for bed, and Barry pays attention to the way Iris does her hair, it looks like a French braid. She corrects him that it’s a Dutch one. Her hands are steady, the way they were steady when she took pictures of the person who drops the artificial black rose on the tombstone of Barry’s mom; the way they were steady when hours after leaving the graveyard they undressed Barry and pleasured him and made him stop shaking in fear because the stranger’s presence triggered him, hard. His own hands were shaky when he collected the black rose. The gardener kept all the others and sympathetically gave them to Barry.

Back to watching Iris, who’s watching him via their mirror reflection, giving him a small smile when their eyes meet.

Hey, soul sister

I don't want to miss a single thing you do tonight

Hey, soul sister

I don't want to miss a single thing you do

Tonight

They have so many questions about that man wearing a yellow and red raincoat when the weather was clear. But except for lifting up fingerprints, Barry doesn’t have the skills to get the answers. Iris might get more luck discreetly interrogating the members on the list of family friends Barry’s dad will hopefully provide if she’s the one convincing him. She’ll say that she’s organizing something special for the tenth anniversary of Nora’s death.

They’re not delusional, they doubt that they’ll be able to exonerate Barry’s dad with no credentials whatsoever. But at least they have a lead, and they’re together.

As he kisses Iris goodnight, Barry fully calms down and easily drifts to sleep. Even yesterday he slept just fine. How could he not with his soulmate besides him?

Hey

Hey

Hey

Tonight

Iris wakes up around dawn, her gasping breath waking Barry too.

“What’s wrong? A bad dream?” He asks with his croaked voice.

He doesn’t believe her when she says no and urges him to just go back to sleep. He’s concerned when she turns her back to him.

“Iris, please talk to me,” he pleads, wondering if the stakes are too high for her after all, if she doesn’t think herself capable of following through their plan.

“I’m just horny Barry,” she whispers quickly. 

It takes him a moment to process what she’s just said. Then he takes her a moment to process that he’s pulling her back flush to his front in order to make her feel his hard dick.

Iris throws her fancy comforter across the room to make sure that it doesn't get stained from their lovemaking.

Hey

Hey

Hey

Tonight