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Barry Allen and the Four Christmases

Summary:

What it says on the tin, four of Barry’s Christmases through the years.

Notes:

I KNOW IT’S NOT CHRISTMAS YET.

I hate (love) Barry Allen.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

1: 1997: Barry’s Eighth Christmas.

Barry was always restless. It was something that plagued him, with his teachers giving him bad reports and everyone else chastising him at any chance they got. It was one of the reasons that he was stuck in bed on Christmas morning, staring at the stars that filled his ceiling. His fan rumbled around as he watched in silence.

It wasn’t until he heard the door creaking open that Barry sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he watched his mom walk into the room. She smiled at him and suddenly, there was nothing but warmth in Barry’s chest. Nora walked over, lifted Barry into her arms with a huff, a tired smile on her face, like she had just woken up– Barry knew she had been awake for most of the night, making sure that everything was perfect. His mom did that, she was good like that.

“Merry Christmas, Bear.” His mom whispered, nudging the side of his jaw with her nose, swooping in to place a kiss against his temple. Barry smiled, wrapping his arms around her to breathe in the scent of her clean shampoo. He could fall asleep like this if he was given the chance, sitting in his mom’s arms until the end of time. “Are you ready to open presents?”

“Yeah.” Barry replied quickly, giggling softly as she turned around to take him downstairs where the tree was, hugging him ever closer. “Merry Christmas, Mama.”

*** 

2: 2000: Barry’s Eleventh Christmas.

It had been 9 months since Barry’s mother died.

Barry’s entire body felt like it was blazing with heat as he ran to Iron Heights. He knew he had to be quick if he wanted to get there, knowing that Iris and Joe would wake up at any moment and try to take him back home. But, he didn’t want to be in the West’s house, with their stupid tree and the presents under the tree that had his name on them.

He wasn’t a part of their family. No matter how badly they tried to make him feel like he was accepted, it would never work. He hated them, he hated them, he hated them–

Barry could hardly breathe when he felt the tears rushing to his eyes, making them sting and burn in the stupid cold weather. He kept running, not looking behind him. Iron Heights was coming into view, he just kept running, ignoring the way his chest was starting to heave. He kept going until his fingertips pressed against the cold metal of the door and yanked it open.

Officer Hydeson was sitting at her desk, looking as festive as a rain cloud. She flinched when the door was slammed open, clearing her throat. “Visiting hours don’t start until 7…Oh, Barry.” She knew him well, even if Barry hated that fact. His dad should be out with him during Christmas, going ice-skating and enjoying hot chocolate.
Hydeson looked at him with such pity in her eyes as she nodded, dialing a few buttons on her keypad. Barry heard the door unlock and he was on it in an instant. He slammed his shoulder against the door as he raced to the visitor room, breathing heavily as he scanned every possible option. He knew this route like the back of his hand, walking down that long hallway to slam open another door.

His heart wasn’t settling, in fact, it was beating even fasting. He couldn’t sit down, couldn’t breathe? Why couldn’t he breathe? Barry’s hands nervously tapped against the plastic of the phone before picking it up. He was frantic, needing to see his dad before someone stopped him. Barry’s eyes lit up when he saw his father being hauled out, two officers behind him as he made his way to the seat across from Barry.

“Dad.” Barry breathed into the phone, feeling it out suddenly pouring out of his chest. A tidal wave of sobs left him as he slumped into the chair. He knew he probably looked so stupid, with his cheeks and nose red from the cold, his hair was a mess from running. Barry couldn’t remember the last time he cried. “M-Merry Christmas, merry christmas.” Barry tried to swallow down his tears as he hiccuped, vision blurry from the sheer amount of tears he was crying.

His father was looking at him with that same pitying look. Like he shouldn’t be there, like he shouldn’t care that his dad is in prison. “Barry…Barry, what are you doing here?” He asked, almost like he was disappointed. It hurt more than anything, Barry’s hand pressing up against the glass like he could break the barrier and hold onto something real.

“I came here to see you.” Barry said quickly, everything was going too fast for him to process, his hand leaving the glass to wipe the tears away from his face. “I didn’t want you to be alone. I-I needed to come and see you!” He couldn’t help but let out another quiet noise, tears being squeezed from him each time he closed his eyes. “Dad, I don’t have much time, alright?”

Barry’s words were interrupted by the door behind him opening quietly. Joe was standing there, hands over his chest. He heaved a deep sigh, another sign of disappointment. Barry couldn’t do anything right, could he? It sank deep into his veins as he looked between Joe and his father, wiping away the tears. His grip on the plastic phone tightened, even though he knew his time was up.

“I love you, Dad. Merry Christmas, I’m so sorry.”

*** 

3: 2007: Barry’s Eighteenth Christmas

“You’ve got to do something, y’know.” Iris’ voice came through the speaker of Barry’s phone as he laid in bed. He had elected to stay in his dorm over Christmas break, since his roommate was out, he had the whole place to himself. The entire campus felt quiet, and that was more than he could ask for.

Barry was lying face down on his mattress, his coffee cooling on his nightstand, his phone right next to his ear. This was what he had done for the past three days, it was nothing if not freeing. He had spent all of his energy doing his midterms and now he had nothing left. His eyes were shut, a low grunt leaving his lips. It sounded like a chuckle if he was lucky enough.

“I don’t have to do anything, Iris. I’m all good for the rest of my life. I’m never going to move again.” Barry’s voice was slightly muffled against the pillow, and he was sure that through the phone’s already crappy sound quality, he sounded bad on Iris’ end as well. “I’m just too tired for the whole…Christmas spirit thing.”

Iris huffed, Barry could imagine the look on her face. The slight half-frown that she was so prone to do when Barry was in one of his depressive moods. The thought of her made his chest warm. He settled onto his back, pressing a hand against his bare chest, feeling the pound under the layers of skin. He thought about her hair and how soft it had looked last time he saw her, the sound of her laugh while they had brushed their shoulders together, or the softness of her palm when she had cupped his cheek and told him that he was her best friend.

“I just don’t get why you don’t want to come to Christmas with me and dad? We'd love to have you, but it’s like…you went to college and you’ve been ghosting us.” That stung a bit, but Barry had been avoiding them a bit. To give them a taste of family without him shadowing every corner and making things worse. “Not cool, Barry. Not cool.”

The noise that emitted from Barry was humorless, but a noise nonetheless. He looked over at his coffee, realizing it had gone completely cold and he only had a couple sips. Damnit. He sat up, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yep, yeah. I know. I…” Barry thought of an excuse, worrying his lower lip as he cleared his throat. His eyes looked at his door, “Woah, sorry Iris! It looks like my roommate just got back, uhm, I’ve…”

“Don’t you dare, Bartholomew–”

Barry clicked his tongue, “Bye, Iris. So sorry, maybe next year, byeeee!” And he hung up, sinking back against the comforts of his own bed. Maybe next year.

*** 

4: 2014: Barry’s Twenty-Fifth Christmas

Barry Allen was not awake for his twenty-fifth Christmas. He was in a coma, with tubes making sure that he was still breathing and didn’t flat-line on them randomly. But, that didn’t mean that the Christmas season wasn’t in full swing around him, oh no, no.

Cisco had strung up Christmas lights around the lab, red and green lights combining with the sterile atmosphere of their hospital wing, to try and make it less…dreadful. He was wearing a Santa hat as he stood around, blaring Christmas music from his iPod touch. Cisco moved his shoulders in a shimmy as he turned over to Caitlin with a grin, waggling his eyebrows. “Feeling festive yet, Caitlin?”

Caitlin didn’t look up from taking Barry’s vitals, but something red and obnoxious took her attention as she pursed her lips together. “Cisco, get that hat off of him.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her gloved hand.

“But he likes it! Look at his heartbeat.”

“His heartbeat is exactly the same. He doesn’t know he has a Santa hat on.” Caitlin’s words were murmured with a scoff, even with the slightest hint of a smile finding its way onto her lips, as tight as it was. “Don't you have something better to do? Like, not being in the lab?”

Cisco adjusted the hat on Barry’s head, nose wrinkling in disgust as he looked over, “Ew, leave the lab and have to spend Christmas with my family? I’d rather be here with you and Mr. Coma-Man.” He sighed, leaning against the wall as he watched Caitlin replace the drip on Barry’s IV. It turned something in his chest to be somber, a tight squeeze. “You think he likes Christmas?”

That question made Caitlin pause, a shrug to her shoulders. “I don’t know. You’re the one with access to his Facebook.” She squeezed Barry’s arm, flicking against his vein before pricking him once again. “Then again, if she could, that girl and her dad would be here. At least he has someone.”

Cisco nodded in acknowledgement. “Yeah. Guess he has that.” Cisco didn’t make any more mention of the fact that they were stuck in the lab as well, not going to their families to celebrate. He didn’t mention the furrow that was permanent in Caitlin’s brow, or the aching feeling that was deep in his chest. Cisco looked over to Caitlin once more, “Merry Christmas, Caitlin.”

Caitlin smiled softly, gazing at Cisco from the corner of her vision. “Merry Christmas, Cisco.”

Notes:

Still only seen episodes with Snart in them. Oops. (spent hours scouring the wiki)