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Iris West is many things. Confident, stubborn, well-read – but above all, she’s observant. She’s a reporter – it’s part of the job description.
The changes in Barry had been subtle at first, but Iris hadn’t failed to notice even those. The way that he’d smile to himself when he thought no one was looking – like he’s holding onto a secret that fills him with joy. The way that he walks with an extra bounce to his step. The way that he seems to hold himself easier – as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders just a little bit.
(And, with Barry doing what he does, even that little bit is miraculous in itself).
Still, there’s no denying it. Barry Allen is in love, and Iris is determined to find out who with.
It’s family dinner night, and they’ve both decided to sleep in their childhood bedrooms, rather than make the trek back to their own places. Not that it’s far, but Iris had a little too much wine, and Barry’s just… well, kind of exhausted.
She’s all set to go to sleep and try to grill her best friend in the morning, but she hears the harsh sound of Barry’s phone vibrating on the bedside table, and she stirs, listening to the murmured conversation. She’s pretty sure her dad had deliberately picked the house with the thinnest walls he could find, in all honesty.
She can’t make out the words, but she hears enough to know it’s not Cisco with a Flash emergency. Barry’s tone dips a little lower, and his laugh takes on a flirtatious note. Mystery lover. Definitely.
She’s pretty sure she hears the word “tonight”, something about having to sneak out, and then silence. It’s soon followed by a low curse, some clattering as Barry apparently tries to get himself dressed discreetly (how he maintains a secret identity, she’ll never know, because Barry’s never been very discreet), before the squeal of his bedroom door and the creak of the floorboards follows Barry down to the front door.
She doesn’t follow him. Doesn’t need to. If she knows anything about Barry Allen, it’s that he’s irresistible. There’s no way that his new lover would leave him to spend the night alone. So she sets her alarm and twists her head into her pillow, letting the fatigue carry her to sleep.
****
First thing in the morning, she gets herself out of bed, scribbles a note to her dad about having to go home for a change of clothes and makes her way to Barry’s apartment, letting herself in with her spare key.
As she waits, she makes herself a coffee, taking a seat on one of the stools and drumming her fingers on the counter. Living with Barry had given her an advantage of learning the other’s habits – and without fail, the first thing the boy always does is brew himself a coffee as soon as he wakes up.
Sure enough, she hears some stirring from the room across the hall – huffs out a breath of laughter as her suspicions are confirmed.
Two voices. Both male. Interesting.
Not that she didn’t know that Barry was bisexual. It’s just that, more often than not, Barry dates women. So the fact that he’s dating a guy… well, it’s not all that surprising, but it’s certainly different. Barry hasn’t had a boyfriend since college, and even that hadn’t lasted all that long.
And oh, god, what if they choose to go for round two? Barry would probably be pretty pissed at her for sitting here without warning him. She’s invading his privacy – the trust that he’d shown her when giving her the key. She should probably just go-
Footsteps echo down the hall, and she lets out a sigh. Too late.
To her delight, though, it’s not Barry that appears at the doorway to the kitchen.
It’s Oliver Queen.
A very scantily-clad Oliver Queen, dressed only in boxers that look far too tight for him.
As soon as he spots Iris at the counter, his eyes widen, and his hands move to cover up his crotch area. Not that Iris had been tempted to look. Nope. Not at all. Her cheeks flush, though, and for a few seconds, they’re both frozen in a timeless moment, neither willing to say a word, until a breath of laughter escapes Iris’ lips that cuts the tension in half.
“Good morning, soldier.”
Oliver clears his throat and gives her a curt nod in greeting. “Iris.”
“I made coffee,” Iris starts, gesturing to the machine. “Why don’t you grab a cup and sit with me?”
“Oh, I would, but Barry-“
“Can wait.”
It’s not a request, and Oliver seems to catch onto that pretty fast. If there’s one thing that she and her dad share in common, it’s their tendency to be overprotective of family – and that damn well means that she’s going to grill the older man for all that he’s worth.
As soon as Oliver’s fixed his drink in silence, he takes the seat across from her, and Iris takes another sip from her own mug before setting it down on the counter, letting it warm her hands. “So. You and Barry.”
“Yup.” Oliver’s eyes flicker to the door, and Iris wonders in her amusement if he’s trying to plan an escape route. Unfortunately for him, not even the Green Arrow can escape the wrath of a West.
“How long has this been going on?” Barry’s not great at keeping secrets. Not from Iris, anyway. It had been part of what had made his concealment of his identity as the Flash for so long all that more hurtful.
Oliver scratches the back of his neck. It’s almost adorable. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Oliver look this flustered. He’d always seemed so… together. “A while.”
“Very specific,” she teases.
Oliver grunts, lifting his coffee to his lips. “A month.”
She raises her eyebrows. A month. Longer than she thought. How the hell did Barry keep this from her for a whole month? And more importantly – why?
“A month, huh?” She keeps her tone light. “Wow. Must be getting pretty serious.”
“We haven’t really, uh. Talked about that.” Oliver presses his lips together, as though his thoughts are wandering a little.
Of course they haven’t. That’s probably why Barry hasn’t told anyone. He doesn’t know what to tell them.
This, Iris can help with.
“Well, if I know Barry Allen – and believe me, Oliver, I do. Better than anyone – he doesn’t do casual.” It’s true. Barry falls hard and fast. Iris knows this well. She’s been on the receiving end of it. “If you’ve been doing-“ she makes a vague gesture between them, “-this for a month, it’s pretty safe to say that Barry’s serious. The question is, are you?”
Oliver shifts in his chair, looking a little uneasy. “It’s, uh. It’s new.”
“Not what I asked.”
A silence falls between them, and Oliver glances down at his mug, as though searching for the words.
“Because,” Iris continues, “If you’re not sure, then you need to tell-“
“No, I am.” He’s fast to reassure her, and his eyes snap up to Iris’. “I’m sure. It’s just… new. And we haven’t talked about it. Yet.”
“Then maybe you should do that.”
“Maybe I should.”
Iris finishes her coffee in one gulp and stands to leave. She’s not going to push Oliver any further. She’s pretty sure she’s made her point. “Good. And, Oliver?”
“Mm?”
“If you hurt him, you won’t just have me and my dad to deal with. You know that, right?”
Oliver huffs out a breath of laughter. “Pretty sure Barry would probably be the first to kick my ass. Don’t tell him I admitted that, though.”
Iris’ lips twitch as she cleans off her mug, promptly placing it in the sink. “Probably.” Barry had told Iris about how they’d sparred together. Oliver couldn’t keep up, despite his tough talk – although Barry had seemed impressed with the other’s skills regardless. Even back then, he’d been pretty smitten – waxing on and on about how Oliver saves his city without powers, and how he’d held his own pretty well against Barry. She wonders why she hadn’t noticed it at the time. She smirks. “Your secret’s safe with me, though.”
She grabs her coat from the stool she’d draped it over, turning to regard Oliver once more. “Don’t tell him I was here.”
“I’m pretty sure he can probably hear you.”
“I can,” an amused-sounding third voice comes from the kitchen door, and Iris cringes. “Did you break in?”
“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. You two need to talk.” She claps Barry on the shoulder on the way out – grateful that he’d at least thought to throw on a t-shirt. Too big for him. Oliver’s. That’s adorable. “And I’ll see you both at dad’s on Sunday for dinner.”
“What?”
“Hey, I didn’t agree to-“
“8pm sharp. Don’t be late!” she cuts in, making her exit before the two could protest any further, because if Oliver’s going to be Barry’s boyfriend, then he’s part of the family. And being part of the family involves family dinners. “Bring your sister.”
Besides, she wouldn’t want to deprive her dad and Wally of their grilling privileges, would she?