Chapter Text
Six cycles in, she decided to try and test the waters.
“I bought a new bikini.”
Barry, seated at the communal kitchen island with a cup of coffee in his hand, almost yeeted the bean juice out of his mouth upon hearing this.
“It’s not!! It’s not like it’s anything special! I just wanted to tell someone, and Luce is out right now, and you’re here while I’m making a sandwich, and I’m SO EXCITED-“
“Hey,” he said, pulling himself together completely and acting like he totally wasn’t thinking about how she might look in it, “I’m excited for you too! Was it a good price?”
“Great price, actually! Usually I try and go with some color, but they only sold this particular style in black, so it’s what I went with! Sometimes that’s just what happens when you’re out at the market. You see something, and you know it’s supposed to be yours,” Lup chuckled nervously, uncertain of how he would react. He was still very reserved, she could tell. Maybe it was still too early to be dangling shiny ideas like them hooking up so blatantly?
Exhausted from being up late thinking about how much he wanted to just hold her hand, he couldn’t tell if the coffee mug he had his hands wrapped around or his face was warmer.
“I’m excited for you,” he repeated, trying to be sincere and polite, not knowing what else to say.
“Thanks!” She was a bit deflated that he wasn’t picking up on the hint. Barry immediately picked up on the vibe change.
“Are you worried that we won’t be on a plane soon where you can wear it?” He offered, trying to help. The constant barrage of thunderstorms outside wasn’t helping him convince her that she would soon have an opportunity to do so, and he was so confused as to how he could celebrate this Fun Thing™ for her without sexualizing it (even though he absolutely was doing so in his mind, as hard as he was trying not to).
“I’m just,” she said, pushing down a bit on the top layer of her sandwich for no reason in particular other than anxiety, “really nervous because I’m still not used to the idea of showing off the fact that I have a rack.”
Absolute silence.
“Oh,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“And,” she continued, “I feel comfortable talking with you about it even though I’m hundreds of years old, and I should be comfortable with who I am. It’s still always a thing for some reason.” She decided to go and look for napkins, as if pointing her face into a cupboard while looking for pieces of cloth would hide her embarrassment from him. It wasn’t long before she gave up and was back at the kitchen island, noticing his steadfast gaze.
Gods, he was cute sipping his coffee. The earnest, quiet attention he was giving her made her heart flutter.
“Thank you,” he responded, trying not to break eye contact. “It’s really nice that you’re talking with me about this. I hope you’re not feeling bad or anxious about it at all.”
She flushed. “I just feel safe talking with you about it, is all,” she said, her shoulders rising and falling quickly. He smiled at her, earnestly.
“I’m really, actually happy for you. What a nice thing for you to have, seriously!” he said, trying to acknowledge and encourage the positive interaction they had both just had. She nodded back at him.
He went back to his coffee and dove right back into their shared work.
She could already hear Barry’s words repeating in her mind, and her chest caught on fire.