Work Text:
It didn’t take long for Iris to make her decision. Maybe it should have; maybe she was being stupid or impulsive. But once Barry said he loved her, the pieces clicked into place.
She couldn’t help but replay moments from years ago, viewed now in a different lens since she knew he had been in love with her. “Before I even knew what the word ‘love’ meant,” he’d said.
“There were so many times I wanted to tell you: junior prom.” She remembered Barry taking her to junior prom after her date stood her up. Now Iris wonders if he didn’t have a date because he’d wanted to ask her. She remembers the look on his face after Ethan had asked her, how he’d stared when he’d heard the news and smiled a little too late. She’d thought nothing of it at the time.
“When I went away to college.” Once they’d finished unpacking and setting up his dorm roo, Barry had hugged her so tightly she’d thought he’d break her ribs. Afterwards, they had realized they were both crying, and Barry had started to laugh.
“When I came back from college.” Dad had teased her, saying she had squealed like a stuck pig when Barry had walked out of the elevator. The hug that time had been just as tight as the last one.
He’d actually told her that time, Iris remembered. His mouth had been right next to her ear and he’d said, “I love you, Iris,” then, “I missed you so much.” She hadn’t thought anything of it. Iris told Barry she loved him all the time. But that hadn’t stopped the strange shivery feeling in her stomach when he had said the words.
“Aw,” she’d said. “I love you too, Barry! And of course I missed you. Central wasn’t the same.” She hadn’t understood the funny little smile when she pulled away. Her dad had snorted and refused to explain why.
“The nights we stayed up talking.” There had been so many nights like that. Those had begun after he’d come to stay with them and he couldn’t sleep. Dad had tried to keep him out of her room, but they had been persistent, and Dad hadn’t always been home. Finally Dad had given up. Iris remembered how they’d talk until they fell asleep. More than once they’d woken up in each other’s beds. It had led to a few awkward moments once Barry hit puberty, but Iris had always laughed it off.
The first time they’d gotten drunk they were together. They were sixteen, it was ten P.M., and Dad had just gone to the station for a night shift. Iris had picked the lock on his liquor cabinet. Barry always acted funny when he was drunk; he’d put an arm around her, play with her hair, start tickle fights. Iris hadn’t minded, because she was also a touchy drunk. That night was hazy, but she remembered sitting on his lap and wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Once she was sober, she’d been so grateful she hadn’t; after all, it was Barry. She hadn’t wanted to ruin their friendship because he was cute and she was drunk.
“All the birthdays, all the Christmases.” Barry always knew what to get her for Christmas and birthdays. Iris couldn’t remember a single present of his that she hadn’t absolutely loved. This Christmas he’d gotten her a replica of her mother’s wedding band. Iris couldn’t help staring at it, absently slipping it on and off her finger, twisting the thin gold chain. How long had he saved up for this? At least as long as she’d saved up for his microscope. Gift-giving was sacred with them. Iris might skimp on presents for Eddie and even her dad, but she planned gifts for Barry months in advance.
What did it say about her, Iris wondered, that she had planned to get Barry that microscope since before he was in a coma—but she didn’t even know Eddie’s shirt size?
Iris had been wondering a lot of things about herself lately. Like why she had never felt the need for romance in her life until her best friend was in a coma for nine months. Why she and Eddie always ended up talking about either Barry or the Flash these days. Why she felt inexplicably strange kissing Eddie in front of Barry, though she tried to hide it. Why Barry featured in her dreams more than Eddie. Why she tried so hard to find the perfect girl for Barry even though he’d never seemed to show much interest in them.
Iris couldn’t move in with Eddie until she figured out what was going on with her own feelings. So she told him she’d move in after New Year’s, since they’d be at the house so much for the holidays anyway. She didn’t, couldn’t, tell Eddie what Barry said. Iris didn’t want him to ask her for reassurance that she didn’t feel the same way, not when she didn’t know how she felt herself. It was like a dam broke. For so long Iris had thought of Barry as just her friend, and now it felt like a lie.
The answers had come to her slowly, but when they did she felt as though she’d been hit by a truck. Because: she couldn’t imagine her life without Barry; he was the most important person in her life besides her father; even though what she felt for Eddie was real, her feelings for him were still in second place; if Barry was happy with someone else, then maybe she could be happy with Eddie. Because she was in love with Barry Allen.
--
On December 30th, Iris called Eddie and asked him if they could meet up at his apartment. She hadn’t stayed there for the last few days, claiming holiday business, and he sounded ecstatic to have her come back over. She broke up with him, sitting on the couch where they’d had sex a dozen times before. When he asked her why, Iris didn’t know what to say. I thought I was in love with you, but then I realized I loved someone else ten times more. This isn’t what I want. You aren’t who I want. But all those were cruel, and this was her fault anyway, not Eddie’s. She tried to keep from crying at the look on his face and said, “You are an amazing guy and an amazing boyfriend, but my heart isn’t in this. I’m sorry, but I can’t love you as much as you deserve.”
Iris left Eddie’s apartment feeling…not happier, exactly, because there’s no way she could feel happy after breaking Eddie’s heart. But lighter. As though a weight had been lifted away.
--
It should not be this easy, Iris thought in the taxi as she picked up her phone and pulled up Barry’s number. “Hey, Bear! Are you at home?” Home, to them, had always been the West house; Barry’s home was never Barry’s apartment.
“Iris,” Barry answered, sounding surprised. They hadn’t talked much since his confession; every time their eyes had met over the last few days, Iris felt like all the confused feelings she’d been working through would burst out of her in a rush. “No. I’m at the lab, actually. Playing with your microscope.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Iris said, waggling her eyebrows even though Barry couldn’t see her. She heard his surprised chuckle, but plowed ahead before she could lose her nerve. “Don’t leave just yet, okay? I need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Iris knew what he would look like as he said it, as clearly as though his face was in front of her: surprised, a little hopeful, a little scared. She knew him so well it was ridiculous. Barry cleared his throat. “Um, are you sure? I’m just hanging out by myself, we can meet at Jitter’s…”
He was truly ridiculous. Here Iris was about to tell him she was in love with him, too, and Barry was trying to make sure she wouldn’t be uncomfortable alone with him now that she knew he was in love with her. “No. I’ll meet you at the lab in ten minutes,” she said.
“Oh. Um, okay, great,” Barry said, sounding surprised and pleased. “See you.”
Iris hung up. It took all her willpower to refrain from bouncing up and down in the seat like a five-year-old.
It should not be this easy. But somehow, sitting for ten minutes in the taxi without asking “Are we there yet?” was the hardest part.
--
Iris walked into Barry’s lab and found him bent over the microscope she had given him, looking at a sample. He looked up with a start when she first walked in; a smile spread across his face, and Iris felt hers mirror it. It was like a reflex. Looking at Barry made her smile. How had she never noticed this before?
“Hey,” she said, closing the distance between them enough that he was easily within arm’s reach.
“Hi,” said Barry. How had she never noticed the way he looked at her? Barry stared at Iris—not in a creepy way, but as though looking at her was something wonderful and he never wanted to stop.
Iris reached up to twirl the chain of the necklace Barry had given her around her finger. “I broke up with Eddie,” she said, “fifteen minutes ago.”
“What?” Barry’s eyebrows rose, and for some inexplicable reason Iris pictured them shooting right off his head. She forced herself not to giggle. “But—you were going to move in with him? What happened?” His voice cracked on the last syllable, and Iris could see him trying not to hope.
She took a step closer, her heels clicking on the floor. Now she was firmly in his personal space. Barry looked as though he was on the verge of a heart attack. “Barry.” Iris tentatively laid her hands on his forearms. “Do I have to spell it out?”
It was the easiest thing in the world to lean forward and kiss him.
There were no sparks, just deep-down warmth and comfort Iris could feel in her bones. It took a moment for Barry to respond; his head tilted just enough to make the kiss more comfortable. One of his hands came up to cradle her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. Iris fisted her hands in his shirt and tugged him closer. She could feel him grin against her mouth.
Barry pulled back after a moment, breaking the kiss, to lean his forehead on hers. And then, as though he couldn’t bear to stop, he gave her another peck on the mouth. “Iris.” He said her name almost reverently. “Do you know how long I’ve been daydreaming about that?”
Iris raised an eyebrow. “Did I meet expectations?” she teased. She couldn’t keep her eyes off his mouth.
“Might have to test it out a few more times,” said Barry. He was going for deadpan, Iris could tell, but she wasn’t fooled.
“I’m up for that,” she answered easily. “Seriously, though, Barry—I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry it took you telling me to make me realize, but it’s true. I’ve—” Iris shook her head. “—This is going to sound so weird, I’m sorry. I can’t image my life without you. Ever. So I’m not worried about ruining our friendship, because I will never not love you and I know you feel the same about me. Does that make sense?”
The speech had sounded better in her head, but Iris thought she got the point across.
“Yeah,” said Barry. “Makes perfect sense to me.” And he leaned down to kiss her again.
This kiss accelerated faster than the last had. Iris’ hands slid down Barry’s torso, tracing the lines of his stomach before settling on his hips. His tongue pushed at her lips and she opened her mouth, enjoying the feel of his lips against her own. And then, just when Barry’s hand started to move south and take the kiss somewhere a little more interesting, he broke it off.
“Wait,” he said, panting a little.
“Barry,” Iris whined.
“I said I couldn’t lie to you anymore, and there’s one more thing.” Barry bit his lip. Iris thought she might like to do that herself in a few minutes.
Iris’ face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Let me guess. You’ve got our wedding planned out, too?”
“Actually,” said Barry, “you remember when I said that you were worth being on time for?”
Iris frowned. “But you didn’t say that. The Flash…”
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
“Yeah,” Barry said softly. “About that.”