Work Text:
“You did what?”
Barry cringes away from his phone as Iris’s voice shrieks over the connection and Meadows, the other forensic tech in the lab today, shoots him an alarmed look. “Jesus, Iris,” he mutters, shrugging embarrassedly at Meadows, “a little louder, I don’t think the rest of the police department heard you.”
Meadows sniggers a little at that, shaking her head and turning back to the samples in front of her.
“Sorry, but you can’t just spring that kind of news on a girl—”
“How else was I supposed to tell you?” Barry grouses under his breath, but Iris steamrolls right over him, continuing on blithely as if Barry hadn’t interrupted at all.
“Hang on, what time even is it—half-past, perfect—don’t get called out to a crime scene in the next ten minutes, okay? I’m headed over.”
“What?” Barry yelps, and he sees Meadows discreetly look his way again. “No, Iris, please do not—”
“Too late, already clocked out!” Iris trills. “See you in a minute—is Katie there? I’ll bring her a scone.”
Barry sighs, knowing through long experience that it’ll be easier if he just accepts defeat now. “Bring two,” he mumbles, and Iris laughs an affirmative at him before hanging up. “Iris is bringing scones,” he informs Meadows, and she gives up all pretense of minding her own business, grinning broadly.
“Iris is the best,” she declares, eyes dancing. Barry can’t find it in himself to agree.
But he is looking forward to that scone.
-x-
“So—and please, feel free to correct me if I’ve got anything wrong here—you got in the precinct without a hitch, no suspicions, even found the perfect way to get in later without anyone realizing anything’s wrong for a good day, at the very least—and you’re putting it all in jeopardy for a date?”
Even through the tinny, crackling connection that comes from a transatlantic call, Lisa’s annoyed amusement comes through loud and clear.
“Nothing’s going to be in jeopardy because of a coffee date, Lisa, you’re being overdramatic.” Len rolls his eyes, even though his sister isn’t there to see it.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Lisa huffs, and Len smirks but doesn’t respond, turning the bulk of his attention back to the computer screen in front of him. “I bet you stole his wallet too, didn’t you?”
“You know me so well,” Len drawls lazily.
“And you don’t think that’s going to bite you in the ass later, when your little date realizes his wallet is missing?”
“I’ll offer to pay.”
“With his own money, I’m sure—how magnanimous. Tell me, is he at least cute?”
“As a button,” Len deadpans. He smiles slightly at the snort of laughter Lisa tries to mask as a cough.
“Whatever, big brother. Hope the tail you get is worth this whole thing blowing up in your face.”
“Stop being crude,” Len informs her primly. “Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying Barcelona?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Lisa laughs again. “Love you, jerk.”
“Back at you, trainwreck.”
-x-
“What do you mean, you don’t know his name?”
“I, uh… didn’t have time?” Barry scratches at the back of his head sheepishly. “I was almost late for my review as it was.”
“So you had enough time to ask some random hot guy out on a date, but not enough to actually get his name?”
“...Yes?”
Iris looks equal parts impressed and unimpressed. “What am I going to do with you, Barry Allen,” she mutters, and Barry grins at her, taking a large bite of heavenly blueberry scone.
“You’re just jealous,” he teases through his mouthful of freshly-baked goodness, and Iris wrinkles her nose at him even as she laughs.
“Maybe a little,” she concedes, “but mostly I’m just surprised. I really thought you were done with the dating scene for a while after the whole… you know, the Patty thing.” She bites her lip after she says it, unsure. Barry pauses, gives her statement the consideration it’s due, smiling a little bit reassuringly to let Iris know he’s not mad.
“I was,” he says after a minute, and he’s more grateful than ever that Meadows had unsubtly vacated the lab after Iris had delivered her promised pastry. “But… I don’t know, there was just—something about him, I think? All I know is that I didn’t want that one chance encounter to be the only one, you know?” He shrugs self-consciously, keeping his shoulders hunched as he crams the last of the scone in his mouth.
Iris stares at him with a soft look in her eye for several weighted moments before speaking again. “I totally get you, Bar, I really do. Just—promise me one thing?”
“What?”
She grins mischievously. “When you two get married, make me your maid of honor.”
Barry splutters incoherently. “Iris!” he squeaks out, and she bursts into long peals of laughter.
A knock on the half-open door interrupts before Barry can even think of anything to say to that, and they both grin at the familiar face peeking in. “What are you two knuckleheads doing in here?” Joe West questions, raising an amused eyebrow.
“Working,” they reply in tandem.
Joe snorts. “I haven’t believed that line since you were twelve,” he says, but he sounds fond. “Me’n Eddie are about to go on patrol, but we’ll prob’ly be done by about seven—we were thinkin’ of pizza after, if either of you were interested in joining?”
Barry has a split second to panic—he really doesn’t want the news of his impending date spreading, not yet at least, but he’s a shit liar and he knows it, there’s no way he can get away with—but then Iris’s voice cuts through his racing thoughts.
“Aw man, Dad,” she says, and she sounds genuinely regretful. “We would totally love to, but I just roped Barry into helping me with my research project—he’s gonna help me catalogue the differences in people willing to talk to female and male reporters and why those differences are what they are and what that means on a societal level—we were gonna start right after he finishes up here.”
Joe blinks. “The difference in—right. What class is this for?”
“Psychology in Journalism,” Iris replies without missing a beat.
“And you can’t postpone it a night?”
“…It’s due tomorrow,” Iris says sheepishly. Barry would be wildly impressed with how sincere she sounds if he wasn’t too busy trying to look convincingly remorseful without trying to look convincingly remorseful.
Joe shakes his head at his daughter, exasperated, but he smiles genially enough, so Barry figures they’re in the clear. “Another time, then,” he suggests.
Barry and Iris both nod enthusiastically. “For sure!” Iris says.
Joe grins at them and makes to leave, but pauses halfway out the door. “Oh, and Bar? Good job today. I’m hearin’ great things about your review—I think you really impressed Singh.”
Barry sighs out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, and he grins back at the man. “Thanks, Joe.”
Joe nods and takes his exit. Barry and Iris wait a beat, then two, before slumping and letting out simultaneous groans of relief.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Iris says.
“I almost thought it wouldn’t. How did you come up with that line?”
Iris grins at him. “That assignment is actually due tomorrow,” she admits, and Barry giggles a little hysterically. “I already finished it, of course, but what Dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“He still doesn’t know about you and Eddie, does he?” Barry guesses, and Iris makes a face.
“At this point, I just don’t know how to tell him,” she groans in dismay. “And I mean, it’s only been a couple of months—what if it doesn’t last, then I’ll have started all this drama for nothing, but then if it does, Dad’ll just get madder for me not sharing it sooner…” She sighs, rubbing her forehead wearily. “It’s a big mess, is what it is.”
“It’ll work itself out,” Barry soothes, knocking his shoulder into Iris’s in solidarity. “Eddie’s a great guy, Joe knows that. And he makes you happy, which, honestly, is the only thing that should matter.”
Iris grins at that, bashfully ducking her head a bit. “Thanks, Bar.” She pauses for just a minute. “But if things don’t work out, you’re still my ten-year plan, don’t forget.”
“I would never,” Barry promises with a smile. Iris leans her head on his shoulder, and they sit together in comfortable silence, content with each other.
“Wasn’t I supposed to be talking you down from backing out of this date?” Iris murmurs a few minutes later. “Can we go back to that, is that a thing we can do?”
Barry laughs softly, pressing a kiss into Iris’s hair. “You know,” he says back lowly, “I think I’m okay.”
“Yeah? Not nervous about it?” Iris presses.
“Oh, nervous for sure. But—mostly just looking forward to it, I think.”
Iris grins, bright and dazzling. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning back.
He’s surprised to find he actually means it.
-x-
Len arrives at Jitters at 6:45 that evening, dressed comfortably in dark jeans and a favorite long-sleeved henley, worn soft with long use. He’s early enough that he can case the place before his date arrives, but not so early that he looks suspicious. He scopes out the nearly empty patio, eventually choosing a seat that allows him to see inside the expansive windows of the storefront while still allowing him a line of sight on anyone approaching the doors.
He’s not on a job, furthest thing from it, but hard-earned habits are even harder to shake.
He pulls his phone out to kill a little time, going through Lisa’s instagram page and liking every single photo just because he knows it’ll annoy her, and when it gets closer to seven he deposits his phone back into his pocket, amuses himself with people-watching while he waits.
7:05 hits, then 7:10, then 7:15, and just when Len thinks that maybe he’s been stood up, he spots a familiar tornado-like figure barreling toward him.
“Oh my god I am so sorry,” Barry Allen—except Len’s not supposed to know that, he reminds himself, not yet—rushes out, all windswept hair and flustered energy. “There was a crime scene, I got called out last minute, and then I had to stay and process the evidence because the other tech had to leave to go pick up her kid because the daycare place won’t keep the kids past six—which is stupid anyway, who does that?—and I could’ve left writing the report until tomorrow, really, it’s not that urgent, but I just had my review this morning, y’know? And it went pretty well, sure, which is awesome, but how would it look if I started slacking right after? So I had to get that done, but then the Captain wasn’t in his office, so I had to hunt him down to give it to him in person because we’re not allowed to just leave the reports in his office anymore, not since the incident with Ramirez back in 2013, we have to give ’em directly to Singh, and I couldn’t find him for like fifteen minutes, I still don’t know where he was—and then I finally left, but I forgot my phone, so I had to go back, and it took me another fifteen minutes to find it, and you know where it was?” He takes in a deep breath, apparently having gotten all that out in one go, and blows it out again, eyeing Len meaningfully.
Len stares in morbid fascination.
“Where was it?” he finally asks, unable to resist, and Barry huffs in a self-deprecating sort of way, one hand going up to ruffle the hair at the back of his head.
“It was in my pocket the whole time.”
Len chuckles a bit disbelievingly, still wide-eyed from Barry's long-winded and rambling tirade; he is, despite his better judgment, reluctantly charmed, helpless against the tiny niggle of feeling that’s pestering the inside of his ribcage.
“And oh, I’m Barry, by the way, since we never actually got around to introductions earlier. Allen. Barry Allen.” He smiles, dazzlingly bright, and that feeling prods at Len’s insides a little harder.
Oh no. He is so fucked.