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Once again, no idea what this is :) enjoy! This follows flash episodes and diverges from them, you’ll see what I mean.
Healing is hard, at least, that’s what her mother keeps telling her.
When she loses Ronnie, it’s like an aggravated open wound. No matter how many times she patches it up, tries disinfectant, takes care of it, nurtures it, gets it to heal over with new skin—it’s ripped wide open. Fresh blood, stinging pain, soiled bandages.
She wonders how long she can keep feeling the same way; that constant ache itched into her side, pins and needles.
Caitlin understands that she needs time to heal, that it’s taking her a long time to patch herself back together, but she hates it when people coincidentally treat her like glass because of it. Like if she bumps into them or something else the wrong way she’ll shatter into a million pieces upon impact.
She’s stronger than that, much stronger than people give her credit for. She starts saying it like a mantra in her head sometimes and it helps, but like any mantra it soon starts to lose it’s meaning with repetition. At the same time it builds a wall around her, snug against her like her skin, harder than stone. She doesn’t let anyone past it or chip away at it.
At least, not until Barry Allen comes into her life.
She has no idea what it is about him; Caitlin realizes with a few first impressions that he reminds her a lot of Ronnie. He’s soft spoken, kind to the point where she worries that people will take advantage of him, gentle and thoughtful. But there’s this other side to him, revealed to her as she works with him to save the lives of Central City, Barry is also incredibly strong, brave and determined.
But she worries, sometimes, that those qualities will only get him into trouble. That they will put him at risk. Just like Ronnie.
Even though they’re not the same person as he has told her many times.
All the words come out very wrong. She wants to be able to say ‘it’s not that I don’t think you can’t handle yourself’ but what comes out is ‘it’s dangerous’ instead of ‘I don’t want to lose you’.
Barry is pressed for time, for energy not to snap at her. But something coils hot in stomach anyways, snaps up through his ribcage like breaking bone. He cuts off her sentence as he whirls around to face her, practically stopping her in her tracks.
“Caitlin, I'm not Ronnie. You have got to stop treating me like I am.” The words are harsh, even to his own ears but his stance is determined. Something he’s been wanting to say for a while now. But the words don’t come out right, they’re tangled with something cruel and harsh. Cold. He opens his mouth to—what? Apologize?
She looks so hurt, taking a step back from him like his words have physically slapped her. And no-no, this is the opposite of what he wanted. Of course he’s touched she cares about him, that she doesn’t want him to get hurt—because the harsh reality is that he could. He could get hurt or even die. This might be the last time he sees her. Just like it was the last time she Ronnie.
He knows that’s what this is really about and Barry’s confused on how to feel about it. He doesn’t want to be compared to Ronnie in her eyes and his feels are justified, he’s been meaning to talk to her about that.
But not like this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her.
Tears are stinging her eyes as she shakes her head. “You're right.” She spits. “You're not.”
He lets her go with a brief sigh, anger still prickling hot under his skin. Except he’s not mad at her anymore, is not sure why he was even mad at her in the first place, now he’s just angry with himself.
So no, they’re not the same. Not in the slightest. Even though Barry and Ronnie seem to have that same calming effect on her—they both know how to dig under her skin, make her feel safe, lull her into feeling comfortable in her own skin, like she belongs, like she can make a difference.
Like she can heal.
Barry seems to intuitively understand this about her, he gets that somehow they fit. That pieces of him somehow click into places where she’s empty and vice versa. Caitlin had always found that saying about opposites attracting kind of silly, at least, until she met Barry.
As organized as she is at the lab with her calculations and experiments, her backup plans and cleanly pressed blouses and pencil skirts—her life is messy. And complicated. She doesn’t want to involve him in it, doesn’t want to pull him through hoops and hurtles and over her walls.
It takes her a while to understand that she’s not forcing Barry through anything but that he wants to be a part of her life by choice.
000
The lab is littered with broken glass.
Literally everywhere she steps there’s a sound of a fragmented crunching thanks to their latest metahuman.
“Never thought we’d encounter a real life banshee.” Barry comments from the corner of the room. He startles her, again, and she offers him a patient glare that makes him smile sheepishly. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, walking towards her, shards cracking under his weight. “Sorry.”
She brushes her hands together as she dumps another dustpan full of glass into trash bin before shrugging her shoulder. “Banshee?” She asks instead.
He grins, that kind of wide grin that tells her she must have asked something interesting or at least exciting. Though she’s not quite sure how she’s done it. Barry does that a lot, however, smiles with a great amount of ease. It seems so easy, his careless smiles. Caitlin misses smiling like that—it’s not often when she does, but if it happens, it’s usually because of Barry himself.
His warm and kind disposition brings that out in people.
“Yeah, a banshee. You know, like a wailing woman? Our metahuman could control sound waves with her voice, that’s how she broke the glass. Seems like an appropriate nickname.”
She hums, crouching to sweep up more glass. “Clever, maybe you should be the one who names all the metahumans.” She grins up at him, making a similar smile appear on his face—because they both know Cisco would never let that happen.
“Where’s Cisco and Dr. Wells?” Barry asks, pushing a shard of glass out of the way with the toe of his foot.
Catlin scrunches her nose as a stubborn piece of glass won’t sweep up onto the dust pan. She sighs, looks over her shoulder at the mess and then back up at Barry. “Getting stiches, piece of flying glass in his arm. I’m surprised more of us didn’t get hit when…” She smirks. “Banshee—”
“Rolls off the tongue now doesn’t it, Dr. Snow.” He says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.
She promptly does not comment on that but continues her sentence instead, “attacked this afternoon.”
Barry winces. “That was my fault, I shouldn’t have led her back to STAR Labs.”
“You couldn’t have known she was following you.” She brushes past him and puts a hand on his arm, squeezing briefly. “It’s not your fault.” Her breath catches in her throat as he turns his head and looks down at her, a warm look passing over his face at her touch. “You should stop worrying so much,” Caitlin lifts her hand and brushes her thumb over his forehead. “You’ll get premature wrinkles.”
Barry dips chin a little, a faint blush kissing his cheeks before he shakes his head with a smile. “Do you need any help cleaning up?”
She sighs and looks around, chewing on her lower lip. “That’s really not necessary.”
She knows she should let Barry help, he could literally have the place spotless in five seconds flat with little to no injury. But part of her doesn’t want to let him; it’s for some reason almost very therapeutic to slowly walk around the lab and carefully pick up glass. To hold the shards so delicately in her hands so she doesn’t cut her skin, to concentrate and focus and to have a small amount of control—even over something so small and insignificant.
“You shouldn’t have to pick it up all by yourself, glass has that way of shattering and ending up everywhere.”
Caitlin stoops towards her desk, moving the brush and dustpan smoothly over the ground. She arches too far forward, however, and loses her balance as she begins to move back. Barry’s fast but he’s not that fast when he doesn’t realize what’s happening. To prevent herself from tumbling onto the floor, Caitlin slams her hand down on the corner of her desk to steady herself—which would have been fine, if there hadn’t been pieces of glass on practically every surface of the lab.
She makes a pained noise, Barry zooming in behind her, the hard muscles of his chest pressing into her back.
“I’ve got you.” He whispers and helps her stand. She drops the brush and dust pan onto her desk, wincing as she looks at her hand. “Nice job, you’re the only person I know who manages to hurt themselves while trying to prevent hurting themselves.”
She manages a sharp laugh, shaking her head at him. “Not funny.”
Barry smiles. “A little funny,” He nods his head at her hand. “Let me see.” He says, his hand resting on her lower back as he turns her around to face him.
Caitlin shakes her head, pulling her hand from his touch even though she can feel the stinging of glass in her palm and the warm dripping sensation of blood dripping down her wrist. “No, really, I’m fine.”
“You’re so stubborn.” Barry sighs at her, tinges of affection laced in his tone.
“I’m stubborn?” She admonishes. “Who wouldn’t let me patch up puncture wounds all up and down his side last week, Mr. Allen?”
He squints at her but decides to use her distraction against her before lifting her up, zipping her towards an exam table in another room. “I was fine, healing like a lizard.”
She huffs, apparently not appreciating the fact that he just lifted her from the floor against her will. “Okay, only some lizards can grow their tails back, number one. And two, you aren’t a lizard, you’re Barry and had a metahuman scratch you with a bunch of—ow!” She squeaks as Barry opens her palm.
He winces sympathetically, “Sorry. I think you have some glass in there.”
Caitlin watches him take one of the shining silver medical tools from a small table next to them, holding her hand to her chest like an injured wing. “I can do it myself.”
Barry raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you squeamish?” He teases, his one hand falling onto her side to squeeze playfully.
She laughs. “I wouldn’t be much of a doctor if I was, now would I?” She asks, letting her hand fall to her skirt. She’s aware that blood is probably getting on her clothes and in that instant Barry seems to read her mind because he’s gone and back in a second, a washcloth settling on her lap so that she can put her hand down on it. “I just meant I’m…fully capable of doing this myself.”
“I know you are,” He says gently, his voice incredibly too soft and gentle. It digs into her pores and borrows there. Caitlin looks up at him, a soft smile tugging the ends of his mouth as he looks down at her; she nearly falls into the warm, green hue of his eyes, nearly counts the kissed freckles on his cheekbones. “And I’m saying you don’t have to.”
She nods her head softly, swallowing as she watches him open her palm again, retrieving the glass quickly and efficiently before bandaging up her hand. She’s so used to doing everything by herself, thinking that she doesn’t need anyone, that her depending on someone else just creates a burden on their shoulders that wasn’t there before.
“There, good as new.” Barry smiles, picking up her palm and pressing the lightest of feather kisses against the bandages, his fingers warm and insistent against the outside of her hand.
Caitlin’s stomach flutters ridiculously to the point where her speech almost stutters upon speaking, “I should…clean up the rest of the glass.”
Barry clears his throat and nods, letting her hand rest against her lap again as he pulls back, sticking his hands innocently into his pockets. “Let me help.”
She waves him off, hopping off the stretcher. “You don’t have to.”
He catches her elbow, stopping her from moving to retrieve her brush and dust pan. “I want to.” She finds herself leaning into his touch without meaning to, his thumb tracing the skin of her forearm before shaking his head. “Besides, I’m afraid if I leave you alone you’ll end up a disaster with this glass. Shards sticking out of you like a pin cushion.”
She points at him as he laughs. “Don’t say it.”
“That can be your metahuman name! Pin Cushion! Though…you sort of sound like a mobster. Maybe this is why I don’t give out the nicknames.”
Caitlin rolls her eyes and pushes another brush and dust pan into his hands but that doesn’t stop a smile from spreading over her lips and staying there for the duration of the night.
000
She’s been feeling off for days.
Caitlin figures that it has everything to do with being stuck at the lab the last few nights, skipping out on sleep, living on caffeine, trying to track down a metahuman that can essentially make people deathly ill with a single touch. She’s never really stopped to think how far the explosion of the particle accelerator really reached but some days, like today, she’s convinced it’s settled over the entire city. Metahuman after metahuman, constantly popping up like wildfire. It’s hard to keep track of all of them sometimes.
Today, however, she needs to focus on just the one.
Doctor Henry Rose had been working in the infectious disease ward of a hospital when the blast took hold of Central City, giving him a deathly touch. While Cisco works on tracking the Doctor down, Caitlin has been working on Barry’s suit. The first time the Flash had come up against Dr. Rose, his touch alone had burned through the thick leather in the shoulder of his suit. Luckily it hadn’t gone down to his skin but Caitlin figured, in talking it over with Dr. Wells, Barry might not have been affected by his touch like normal humans. Barry’s body ran at a higher temperature and speed compared to other human being’s, so it’s her guess that Dr. Rose’s touch wouldn’t have killed him.
If anything, it probably would have given Barry something as simple as the common cold, gone within a few days.
Though she wasn’t ready to test that theory. At all.
“How’s it going?” Barry asks, leaning against the doorway of her workstation.
She looks up at him and blinks, trying to clear the fog from her head before clearing her throat. Caitlin glances down at his suit which is under a microscope, her fingers hovering in gloves as she pokes at it with tweezers. “Its fine, I think. I almost have the calculations we need to create a stronger leather that will combat with Dr. Rose’s touch. It’s just taking longer than I expected.”
When she tears her gaze away from the task at hand she realizes that he’s watching her, concern etched onto his face.
“Are you alright?” He asks after a moment, his hand moving to touch her forehead. Caitlin pulls away before his fingers can graze her skin. “You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine.” She insists, straightening her back. She does not need to be babied. Caitlin knows she probably looks a little worse for wear right now, she’s been working around the clock to make sure that Barry is completely protected the next time he comes up against Dr. Rose.
Caitlin moves quickly towards the other side of the room to retrieve a few leather swatches that she’s testing up against the chemical agent Dr. Rose left behind on Barry’s suit. They don’t have a lot of it but it’s just enough for her to work a few tests. She stops in front of Barry, pausing a moment as a lightheaded spell wracks through her body.
She clears his throat and shakes her head, digging her heels in as she looks up at him. “Now, when Dr. Rose last touched you it was enough to nearly burn through to your skin. That kind of corrosive touch can be combatted with…with a few things that I’ve been working on with your suit.”
Her hand falls onto the back of her chair, holding her upright as dizziness washes over her. Caitlin’s cheeks feel hot, sweat beading on the back of her neck as the room starts to spin.
“Cait…” Barry says, seeming to sense that something isn’t right. She can’t quite make out what he’s saying; his voice sounds slow, like she’s underwater. Black pinpricks start flooding her vision before she feels her knees give out.
“Caitlin!” He catches her seamlessly before she hits the ground, gently cradling her in his arms as he lowers her to the floor. She can feel him shaking her, trying to get an answer to his questions but there’s a blackness clouding the edges of her vision, tugging on her, pulling her in.
Her head tips to the side as her eyes close, the darkness swallowing her completely. Caitlin’s last conscious thought is how easily Barry had been able to catch her, his arms warm and solid against her sides. She knows he would have been able to do the same thing even if he’d been across the room when she fainted.
Because he always seems to catch her. No matter what.
000
The first thing she hears when the world starts swirling back into view is an irritating, insistent beeping. She blinks her eyes open, everything blurry, her surroundings made up of unfocused shapes and bright colors.
“Hey,” Someone says from her right, relieved and warm—Barry. Caitlin turns her head to look at him, the skin between her eyes scrunching together in confusion. “You’re awake.”
“What happened?” She asks but her voice doesn’t sound like her own, it’s deep and broken, rough from lack of use. She tries to sit up but her vision blurs again, head starting to pound. She groans softly, Barry’s hand moving to gently clasp the side of her neck and the back of her head. “My head.”
“You don’t remember?” Barry prompts, his hand falling from her neck a few minutes later. She wants to tell him to keep it there, that it’s somehow soothing. When he moves to sit next to her torso it’s then she realizes she’s in the hospital, not at STAR labs. “You fainted.”
“How…” She looks around, swallowing thickly. “How long have I been out?”
Barry shrugs his shoulder. “Nearly a day. We thought…” He trails off and without him saying anything Caitlin knows exactly where he’s going with that. We meaning him, Cisco and Dr. Wells thought she’d been poisoned from working with Dr. Rose’s sample on Barry’s suit too closely.
There are worry lines marking Barry’s face and she tiredly moves her hand to rest it along his forearm. “I’m okay.”
“I thought you weren’t.” He says, his voice sharp in ways she’s never heard it before. “We weren’t sure for a while there if you were going to wake up.”
Caitlin watches him for a moment, notes the tense demeanor of his shoulders, the way he leans towards her. He was scared, she realizes, before resting back into a stack of pillows on her bed. Her eyes wander towards the beeping monitor, the saline on a metal rack next to her bed, slowing pumping into her bloodstream.
“So…it wasn’t Dr. Rose.” She says after a moment.
Barry seems to laugh then, shaking his head as he runs his hand through his hair. “No, not Dr. Rose. Someone way worse,” He teases, leaning down until they’re face to face. His breath washes over her cheekbones, she can smell the coffee rolling off his tongue. She wonders how long he’s been there with her; she wonders if he ever left her side.
“You have a fever, you haven’t been getting enough sleep, your blood sugar is very low and you’re dehydrated. There’s only one metahuman that can do such a thing, he goes by the nickname…The Flu.”
A laugh suddenly breaks out of Caitlin’s chest and she pushes Barry’s shoulder. “You’re not funny!”
“Neither is you fainting on me.” He throws back, an amused smile on his lips. They’re quiet for a moment, Caitlin smiling fondly at Barry as he moves his hand to tuck some hair behind her ear. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, it never is between them. “You need to take care of yourself. I know we’ve all been busy the past few days but…that doesn’t give you the excuse to run yourself down.”
Caitlin dips her head a little, embarrassed blush staining her cheeks. “I thought I had everything under control,” She admits, rubbing the back of her neck. “I do that a lot, actually.”
Barry smiles fondly, his one hand finding hers on the bed. “You? Micromanage everything to the point of fainting?” He scoffs. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.” He teases, scrunching his nose at her.
There’s a soft noise, someone clearing their throat, from the doorway of her hospital room. It’s Iris with a beautiful bouquet of mixed flowers, the scent potent even from far away. They both look surprised to see her but Barry’s hand does not disentangle from hers as Iris steps into the room.
“Iris.” Barry says softly, like the name holds some sort of admiration. Caitlin really doesn’t understand how Iris could have been so blind to Barry’s feelings—he’s obviously the type to wear his heart out on his sleeve. It’s printed there, in bright capped letters, his feelings etched into his pores for a girl who will only ever be his best friend.
Caitlin gives her a soft smile as she approaches the bed, handing her the flowers. “Hi Barry.” She turns her attention back to Caitlin. “My dad said you were feeling under the weather, figured these are the least I can do.”
“That’s very sweet of you.” Caitlin says softly, her nose pressing into one of the soft red petals of a rose. “Thank you.” When she looks up at the other girl her eyes are on Barry, watching him curiously, her gaze trailing down to where he’s holding her hand.
She’s always considered Iris to be a gorgeous girl, the kind of beauty that comes naturally, that comes with not really knowing how beautiful she is to people around her. But there’s a look on her face that she can’t really place, something that creates a shadow over her features. Whatever it is it’s gone as soon as it appears, replaced by a soft smile in Caitlin’s direction.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Well the world isn’t tilting on it’s axis anymore, if that’s what you mean.” She laughs softly, setting the flowers down. “I can go home, right?” Caitlin inquires, looking at Barry.
He nods quickly, standing from his spot on the bed. “Yeah, of course. I’ll go tell the Doctor you want the discharge papers drawn up. I’ll take you home.”
She leans up a little, tries to get out of bed but apparently that’s a bad idea. Dizziness starts blooming behind her eyes and Barry’s hand gently falls on her shoulder to steady her. He’s smiling at her, amused. “Nice try.”
She huffs out an annoyed sound. “You really don’t have to drive me home.”
He squeezes her, his thumb rubbing along her collarbone. “I want to.”
The touch does not go unnoticed by Iris who smiles softly to herself as Barry leaves to get the car. Caitlin’s cheeks are flushed, she can feel the heat travel to the back of her neck. She sets her hands down on her lap, wondering if she should try and maneuver herself out of this fabric dress they have her in or wait for Barry to come back.
“So…you and Barry?”
Caitlin’s head snaps up and she shakes her head because….what? The girl couldn’t figure out that Barry had practically been in love with her since they were kids but she seemingly can read into a few close touches that he and Caitlin have shared?
“Oh…no. No. It’s not…it’s not like that.” She says, fumbling over her words. Caitlin’s surprised, more than anything, that she doesn’t have a direct answer for this. That she doesn’t have a calculated explanation. She’s usually so good with things like that, having a plan, an answer, an easy way to explain something.
But maybe she doesn’t because…her and Barry and their seemingly easy and effortless connection isn’t easy to explain in so many words.
Iris just smiles at her sweetly, her hand falling onto Caitlin’s. “My dad said that Barry wouldn’t leave your side.”
“It was…it was just a day.” She tries to explain, to give Iris the benefit of the doubt but her voice doesn’t sound convincing to even her own ears.
She giggles softly. “I hate to break it to you but, you and him? It’s exactly like that.”
000
They don’t talk about the fact that he stayed with her in the hospital, the words themselves aren’t needed. When he asks her how she’s feeling a few days later she presses herself up on her toes and kisses his cheek. Blush blooms over his cheeks instantly along with a smile that threatens to stretch across his entire face. That, it seems, is enough of an answer.
They go out on a few dates but don’t label them as such (except that’s what they totally are). They’re trying not to name anything, to take things slow, to keep their relationship to themselves even though everyone knows something is going on. It’s in the way Barry looks at her, in the way Caitlin’s hands linger on Barry’s arms or sides before he flashes away, it’s in the soft kisses he presses to her forehead when he thinks no one is looking, at the way she yells at him when he comes back with bumps and bruises and gashes that need tending to.
In a way nothing has changed but everything is different.
000
Ronnie comes back.
She finds and loses him again. She thinks losing him a second time would be less painful than the first but it’s not, it’s worse.
She loses him in the exact same way, an explosion, an accident, a careless mistake that didn’t need to happen. Caitlin is still shaking, Barry had whisked her away from the explosion just in time, a matter of seconds. If she was feeling like herself she might have made a joke about how that’s what heroes did. Saved the damsel just in the nick of time.
But her ears are still ringing from the explosion in the field and she’s cold down to her bones. She had him and she lost him. Like a mantra over and over again in her head until the words seep into her skin, feed into her bloodstream, become a part of her.
Caitlin doesn’t love Ronnie anymore like that, not in an intimate deep way that she had before she lost him the first time. But she knows, distantly, that first loves never really disappear. Not completely. He had been her best friend, someone who knew her inside and out, knew things that even she didn’t understand about herself. He was someone she had let in unintentionally.
And now he was gone. For good this time. Dead and gone have never felt more final.
She’s sitting at her desk, her heels are off but her coat is still on. She doesn’t hear him come in until he’s right in front of her, crouching to put a hand on her knee.
“You want to go home?” He asks softly, too soft. It hurts her ears.
Caitlin swallows and shakes her head. “No.” She says, looks at her hands on her lap. There’s too many memories there, even though Ronnie’s been gone long enough that they’ve faded from her place.
They’re quiet for a moment, the lab empty and devoid of other people. Of distracting noises or sounds. It’s just them, their breathing, their heartbeats.
“You did everything you could.” Barry says, after a moment, his words answering her unspoken questions and guilt. He knows her far too well, it makes her squirm inside, her walls buckling under pressure.
“It wasn’t e-enough.” Caitlin says, tries to stay strong, her voice wavering as her lower lip wobbles. Her shoulders shake in an effort to hold back tears. Barry’s heart constricts at seeing her so upset, at a loss for what to do or how to help. She shrugs her one shoulder as a tear leaks down her cheek. “I couldn’t s-save him, Barry.”
Her voice breaks on his name, which is all it takes for him to stand and pull her up into his arms. He leans down and wraps them around her, hugging her to his frame. Caitlin’s hands bunch up his t-shirt, tugging on it helplessly like it might ground her. His one hand trails up and down her back, pressured circles that try and ease her sobs that shake him to his very core, his other hand winding through her soft brown hair.
“This is not your fault.” He whispers, turning his head to plant a few kisses along her hairline.
Caitlin’s shaking eventually subsides but she holds on to Barry, not wanting to let go. She shakes her head, pressing her face into his shoulder. “You don’t…you don’t have to—” She’s not even sure what word she’s trying to search for, what she’s even trying to say.
Barry seems to understand though, just like he always does. He squeezes her tightly before bending to pick her up in his arms, her legs easily swinging over the crook of his elbow.
“I want to.” He says gently, his lips resting on her forehead before he’s gone in a flash of yellow light.
000
It’s late.
Or early, depending on how she wants to view four in the morning. She’s used to this routine, of Barry coming over with a case, or take-out, or a movie and falling asleep after sex. She watches him sleep for a while, his face open and gentle as his breathing evens out—much like it is when he’s awake. Barry is always open, there’s no hidden meanings to his words or his soft smiles, his gentle touches and breathy laughs. She’s never known anyone so genuine, not since Ronnie.
And even then, they’re different. In so many ways that she hadn’t realized before.
Caitlin runs her hand gently through Barry’s hair; he shuffles in his sleep and pushes his face further into the pillow but doesn’t wake up.
She feels like pancakes. And with a soft kiss to his forehead she quietly pulls herself from bed and make her way to her kitchen. She grabs the ingredients that she needs, mixing a batter quietly, a pair of arms snaking around her midsection as she heats up a frying pan on the stove.
Caitlin leans her head back against Barry’s chest. She thought he’d be getting ready to leave, they never end up spending the night for one reason or another. Feels too final, maybe, too much like a message. But when her head hits his chest she can feel the warmth of his body through the thin layer of her nightgown and sweater—he doesn’t have a shirt on.
“Did I wake you?” She asks, turning to look up at him.
He hums sleepily and leans down to kiss the bridge of her nose. “No, I’m like a bloodhound for breakfast food. I could literally sense pancakes even in my sleep.”
She laughs, turning against his chest to wrap her arms lazily around his neck. His hands trail down her back, sliding the fabric of her nightgown up as the tops of her thighs peek out from under it. “Is that a metahuman ability we’re just now hearing about?” She teases.
Barry steals a kiss instead of answering, dipping his head so that his teeth can nip at her lower lip. A soft groan leaves her throat, trailing a shiver down the knobs of his spine as he pulls her closer.
“Do you have to leave?” She whispers against his mouth when they pull apart to breathe. Their bodies are still molded against one another, Barry’s leg absentmindedly sneaking between her own. Caitlin has never asked him to stay before, not in so many words.
Barry smiles down at her, nuzzling their noses together. “And not stay for these pancakes? You’ll be lucky if you can get rid of me even after we eat them.”
She smiles as he pulls away, starts milling around her kitchen like he actually knows where things are. She watches him open drawers and cupboards, eventually finding plates, coffee mugs and silverware. Caitlin opens and closes her mouth, licking her lips.
It all feels so…domestic in a way she can’t describe but likes all the same. She smiles softly, moving to pour batter into the frying pan in tiny circles, mini-pancakes. She hesitates for a moment, chewing on her lower lip as she looks over her shoulder at Barry.
“You don’t have to stay.” She says suddenly, with a smile, because she knows exactly what he’s going to say in return.
Barry laughs softly, slides towards her and pulls her against his long line of a body, running his fingers through her hair before drawing her into another kiss. “I want to.” He whispers.
Caitlin thinks she finally gets it. That Barry wants to be a part of her life, not because he feels obligated to but because he wants to.
So she lets him.