Chapter Text
“Hey gorgeous. Come here often?”
Barry snorts as he settles against Hal’s side in the lounge chair on the BnB’s balcony. The surrounding lights and dark field could have been copy and pasted from last night. The imperceptible shift to the stars’ position and sliver added to the moon are the only indications that they hadn’t simply laid here in each other’s arms as the world moved around them.
Besides, of course, the two of them. Hal had stripped down to his undershirt and swapped out the suit jacket for his usual bomber, bringing with it the soothing hints of aftershave and leather. They’re heading out tomorrow for the planet Hal chose for the honeymoon — one they’d meant to visit on a camping trip years ago, and are finally getting to visit now. Barry’s hair is still damp from the shower, but he’d thrown his suit pants and shirt back on anyway. It felt like extending the day just a little longer.
“I should hope not. Unless you’re planning on making this a yearly tradition?”
Hal wraps an arm around Barry’s shoulders, giving Barry a perfect view of Hal’s impish grin. “Why stop at yearly? We could do it quarterly. Weekly, even.”
“I’d need more than a time out chair in a corner to survive that.”
Hal snorts, butting his head against Barry’s.
They have a minute of quiet, the insects, rustling corn, and steady beat of Hal’s heart filling the space. After the sensory overload of the day, joyous as it was, it’s a welcome reprieve.
There’s a lingering question, insistent in Barry’s mind. He’s confident he knows the bulk of it, from the giddy grin that still lingers around Hal’s eyes. But there’s really only one way to know for sure.
Barry pushes himself upright to better look at Hal’s face. “How are you? Now that we’re married?”
Hal’s answer is immediate. “Great. Fantastic, even.” He brings a hand up, running the pad of his thumb along Barry’s cheekbone. “But it’s always been worth overcoming my fears for you. You’d think I would have learned by now.”
Barry had thought himself too worn out to be this emotional, but it had been a day full of surprises, mostly about his own capacity to appreciate so many things at once. “And you’ve won yourself some more finger bling as a reminder.”
“I have!” His hand stills on Barry’s cheek, warm metal pressed against Barry’s skin, and stares like the full weight of the day just hit him. Barry can relate, and expects to be repeating the experience for the foreseeable future. “Now how about you?”
While not an unexpected question, Barry still has to stop and gather his thoughts. He’d done so little of that during the day. Even with his break, he’d still had who knows how many more rounds of photos, and dancing, and the line of guests saying goodbye, and then being bodily shoved out the door by the wedding party when Barry suggested helping with cleanup. That’s not even counting the guest book on the dresser, or the gifts to be cataloged, the thank you notes sent, the photos to be reviewed and shared and maybe sorted into a wedding album of their own.
What a strange, wonderful inversion. He’s spent so much of his life with his mind in endless loops, with seconds stretching out for days, and now he’d had a day with years’ worth of concentrated joy, feeling like it had passed in a moment.
“It’s okay if it didn’t live up to your expectations,” Hal says eventually. “Even if we only decided last year for the rest of us, you’ve had so much time to build it up there’d be something missing if you were marrying Supes in the Sistine Chapel.”
The bizarre suggestion jolts Barry from his thoughts. “That’s not it at all!”
“Not enough for you? I knew I should have sprung for the chocolate fountain and that mint condition, first edition Flash #1 to officiate."
Barry grabs the chair cushion and swats it at him. “Hal!”
“Ack!” Hal bats away the second swing with his arm. “I knew it! You married me for my money! I’m not going to survive my wedding night! Unless…” Then he tackles Barry.
They roll over on the chair, scrambling at each other. Barry’s shirt is halfway over his head when the footrest folds in on itself, and Hal lands bodily on top of him as they’re both dumped onto the balcony.
“Oof,” Hal groans, rolling over. His elbow jams into Barry’s stomach as he pushes himself upright. “Okay, we’re officially too old for this. Ow.”
Barry pushes himself up by the elbows. His back protests, not quite as quick to bounce back either. “Sorry for ruining your wedding night plans.”
Hal waves a hand at him, even as his other clutches his side. Barry runs and finds him a bag of ice.
“Like I’d let a ruptured kidney slow me down. I never have before,” Hal wheezes, then sighs as he applies the ice. “And you still haven’t answered the question.”
How to summarize this whirlwind of a day? He’s barely managed to examine his feelings about marriage being a possibility, but less their reality; how is he supposed to process everything on top of that?
But he has examined it, he realizes. He’d had to, for his vows, to be able to speak on the two of them. That describes so many of today’s events: treasured moments that wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t created the opportunity.
Who knows when else Barry would arrive early, and be rewarded with a speechless Oliver Queen? What other time could Wally whole-heartedly — if sarcastically — congratulate Barry on being a slowpoke while welcoming him to married life? Or Zatanna magic the tomato sauce from his all-white suit with a cheeky comment that he could count on science some other day? Or play corn hole with the Green Lantern Corps’s senior leadership? Or so many other things that he’ll remember, in snippets and moments, for the rest of his life? While his friends and family so often watch out for him, rarely is it so blatantly on display.
His father probably would have reminisced about his wedding photo album eventually, but who knows when. Maybe it would have been like any number of things without an accompanying occasion or deadline, pushed back indefinitely out of perceived unimportance. Barry would know. Without Hal’s insistence, their wedding could have been one of those things.
And there’s an extra appreciation he has for him and Hal after being forced to put it into words. While he’s viscerally aware of his feelings whenever they’re together and so often when they aren’t, it’s as if something settled within him through the act of turning it over and finding the words, even imperfect as they were. No words could truly encapsulate something so vast, and Barry wouldn’t expect them to. But he better understands the difference in scale for the comparison.
Celebrating their love hadn’t gilded the lily; it encouraged them all to take a moment to appreciate how beautiful the lily, so often overlooked for its familiarity, actually is.
And that’s the story of his life, and his path here, isn’t it? Acknowledging that his own thoughts are limited, and improved through connection with those around him, none more than the man smiling up at him.
“I’m sure what you’re thinking is really deep and meaningful, but you’re kind of leaving me hanging here.”
Well. That won’t do.
So Barry takes Hal’s face in his hands and kisses him. It starts as a gentle press of lips to lips, deepened by Hal’s enthusiastic response, his tongue against Barry’s tingling skin and his hands everywhere on Barry’s body at once. Barry takes the rising heat and returns it as best he can, stroking at Hal’s cheek, his hair, and using a hint of speed just because Hal loves it. Maybe it can summarize the totality of this feeling better than a few improvised words.
By the time they pull back he’s got a crick in his neck from the unfortunate angle, and is sure Hal’s is worse. Barry kneads absently at Hal’s neck, not wanting this closeness to ever end.
Before he can fall down another mental rabbit hole, he says, “I’m happy. So happy. I’m sure I’ll have plenty more to say about it in the days, months, and years to come. For now, I’m happy just enjoying my time here with you.”
Doing this too often isn’t feasible; their lives are too full for that. But celebrating their love? That’s something Barry can do every day.
He can’t wait.