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Barry stared at the comments on his latest art tutorial video. Normally he encouraged people to post comments asking him questions and sharing their own art, but this seemed to mostly be about Iris. She'd only been filling in for Cisco; she hadn't even been on the camera, it had been his mother he'd asked to sit as a model while he sketched faces. And he'd expected a few questions, but not almost all of them being about Iris.
Okay, so everyone in the Gem Cities knew Iris. Barry knew that. She was a reporter, an investigative journalist, she'd been on the news all the time, and that was before her script had been turned into a film. And she'd written two books and was currently working on a new script, some superhero film she'd been asked to write. Iris was the most wonderful, most talented writer in the whole world, and the most incredible person- at least in Barry's opinion. And he would happily talk about his amazing wife for hours.
Which was why it made no sense there were people asking how he knew Iris West.
He hadn't intended for this to happen. Any of it, really. Yes, he'd always enjoyed art, and he'd taken art classes at school, but that was because it was a hobby he enjoyed and something different from all the sciences filling up the rest of his timetable. Plus, Iris had taken art too and Tony Woodward hadn't, added bonus. Art was nice, it was an escape, but he liked being a C.S.I., he liked helping people. He would have been content doing that and just doodling in his spare time.
And then he'd been struck by lightning.
Captain Singh had had to apply for a replacement C.S.I. Barry understood that; he'd have done the same thing, he’d been in a coma for a long time. And it wasn't as if Barry had lost his job. Captain Singh had made it very clear that when he was feeling better he'd still have a job to come back to. He'd obviously need some physical therapy before he could even be discharged, let alone be declared fit to work, but at least he was still employed.
Except physical therapy hadn't exactly gone how he'd imaged. His muscles got stronger again, his walking a little better, but he got tired quickly. He got dizzy if he stood for too long, he was having issues with his short-term memory, he kept getting the shakes, and he hurt so much. The lightning had left distinctive, pale scars, but it had been more than just lightning. He'd been flung back into a shelf with various chemicals and bottles had fallen and smashed on him and the glass had left scars, and some of the chemicals in the bottles really shouldn't be on skin, and his clothes- apparently torn from the glass and smouldering from the lightning- weren't exactly spectacular protection from them. He'd been prescribed painkillers for the chronic pain but his memory issues were still enough he kept forgetting whether or not he'd taken them which usually led to him not taking them, right up until assuming that meant he'd taken twice the dose. And everything might have turned out fine, but he didn't want to do that again.
And he'd taken a step back and thanked Captain Singh then handed in his notice. Whether he wanted it or not, going back to work didn't seem feasible. At least not for a long time.
And then he'd slumped. His whole reason for going to see Doctor Snow was to work on his rehabilitation so he could get back to work, and if he wasn't going to be able to do that, there didn't seem to be any point. He was twenty-five years old- and had missed that birthday due to being in a coma- and he needed a cane to walk, he couldn't go out without feeling like everyone was staring at the scars and he couldn't hide the one on his face, he had no job, his landlord had cancelled his lease while he'd been unconscious so he was living with his parents with currently no other options, and he'd almost burnt the house down because he forgot he'd turned the oven on and it was only because his dad had come home check on him it got turned off again, that bolt of lightning had screwed his entire life up, and he hadn't even been outside. He hadn't been near any electrical sockets, and he'd only been near the window because he was closing it before he went home ten minutes after his shift had officially ended because he'd been waiting for a test to finish running. What were the odds of lightning missing all the taller buildings around and coming straight through his window?
And yet there he was.
And then Iris had shown up and dragged Barry out to Granite Peak, to the hills overlooking the city, and pulled out a new sketchbook and some watercolours. He'd been frustrated at first- then again, everything had been frustrating ever since he'd woken up- and he kept getting the shakes and dropping his paintbrush and messing things up, but Iris had sat and talked to him, and he'd painted until he was too tired, and he did feel better afterwards. And she kept coming, every Friday afternoon Iris would take him up to the same spot, he'd paint, she'd write that book she was working on, and they'd talk, and Barry felt better afterwards.
Iris also helped Barry find a therapist, and Doctor Snow had helped him find some anti-depressants. Just for now, Barry had decided, but it did help, some days. Some days he'd still be so angry at what happened, some days he still couldn't get out of bed, but some days things would be okay. He had something to do, he had Iris, he made a new friend Cisco who'd been in the hospital at the same time as him with his epilepsy and sometimes had check-ups with Doctor Snow around the same time as he did, his dad got him one of those pill boxes with the days of the week so he'd know if he'd taken his medication and he wrote down the time he took it on a little post-it note, things were getting better.
It had been Iris again who'd told him Picture News were looking for a new artist for a little comic on the back pages. He didn't have to write them, her friend Linda did that, but he could work from home when he needed to and it was only a little one once a week, not too much. And once he'd started that he'd looked at art commissions and done a few paintings for people. It wasn't much, but it was something he could do.
And then Iris' script had got picked up and Barry was so happy for her, even if it would mean she wouldn't be around quite as much. Legend Productions were a small company, and they were mostly based in Central, but Iris would still be too busy for their Friday afternoons probably. But Iris was happy, and Barry was happy for her, and they went out for a celebratory dinner and somewhere along the lines it had ended up being a date and they'd kissed.
And they kept dating. Barry had been asked to run a few short art classes at the community centre and that went well, and Iris' book was coming along and she'd asked him to design the cover for her, and right before she went off on this small book tour Barry proposed and Iris said yes.
The tutorials had been a joint idea of Barry and Cisco's. He'd liked running classes, he'd debated the idea of retraining as a teacher professionally, either chemistry or art or maybe even both, and Cisco had pointed out other art tutorials on the internet and it did sound fun.
Neither of them had just expected it to really take off. Apparently more people had heard of him than he'd thought and his videos ended up being quite popular. He kept them up with Cisco filming and editing, he kept up commissions and more people seemed interested in his work than ever, and Iris' second book was more popular than her first, and they got married a few weeks ago, and Barry was so very happy. He still had bad days, but right now he was so very happy.
He was also so sure he'd mentioned Iris before in his tutorials.
But apparently not.
"Spencer Young's writing speculative articles," Iris said and made a face. Her rivalry with Spencer Young went back to when she'd started at Picture News and Barry had heard many rants.
"I really thought I'd mentioned you before," Barry said. "I was so sure I had."
"Oh, honey, it's not your fault," Iris said. "We didn't even get to the airport for our honeymoon before you'd introduced yourself as Barry West-Allen to at least six people. The barista in Jitters didn't even need your full name, and we hadn't legally changed it yet."
"You did the same."
"Yes. And I know that we said people knew our names so it might make sense to just work under them still, but Rip asked me earlier and I told him to put me down as Iris West-Allen? And all the legal paperwork is finally finished."
"It's not as if we'd be taking anything out of our names," Barry said. "Just adding in the rest."
"Exactly. And I know you mentioned going on your honeymoon at least two weeks ago because you were working on that painting of the beach near the hotel."
"Right."
"And they should at least have worked out we knew each other from you doing the art for both my books and the second one being dedicated to you."
"And I'm still doing the comics for Picture News, even if they didn't realise we've known each other since we were four and grew up next door to each other. People wouldn't ask questions if I introduce myself as Barry West-Allen next time. Right?"
"Spencer Young might still, but I'll talk to Linda and Cecile. I love you."
"I love you too." Barry kissed her. "How is your next book going?"
No, he hadn't intended for any of this to happen. But right now he wouldn't change anything either.