Chapter Text
The whole gang is out to dinner. In one of his rare bouts of civility, even Wells agrees to come.
Wine, food and cheer pass around the table effortlessly with Cisco making it his personal duty to keep everyone entertained, even with the joy and elation synergizing their small group of heroes: human and meta alike, on its' own. A lack of monthly bad guys to defeat is a probable fault as the scales for once tip in their favor.
Whatever it is, Iris is just grateful to have the ones closest to her near. Carefree; happy.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?”
The waitress, Jojo her name tag reads, ask above Barry’s shoulder. She’s a small thing, tinier than Iris by an inch or so but her eyes are big and expressive. A mixture of brown against a pale green that shine under the dim atmosphere of the restaurant. It’s no wonder he can’t take his eyes off of her.
“No, I think - I think we’re good for now.”
Barry looks around the table for confirmation, turning his gaze back with a smile. Iris knows that smile.
Once upon a time she was on the end of that smile.
The one where his eyes crinkle at the sides, airing warmth; making him look younger, more handsome.
“Okay, well if you need anything…” she lingers, briefly, showcasing deep dimples in both cheeks. She’s almost too pretty. Her hair alone stirs enough envy in Iris. Try as she might, Iris could never get her hair to pattern after such tight curls.
“Yes, definitely.”
She refuses to acknowledge the way her insides twist as Barry watches Jojo go, so she bites on her bottom lip and forces her disagreement down. After all, the current status of their relationship was her idea.
Some ease falls over her, though, watching Jojo separate herself from the table. Iris can relax, enjoy her meal and relish in the conversation being had about Earth 2’s imagery as told by Jesse.
“President Knowles, for real?”
“Yeah, she’s actually the highest ranking president in our Americas history.”
“Americas?”
Barry stands up excusing himself with a mention of using the restroom. She loiters on his back until he disappears down a hall next to the entrance. “Can you believe this, Iris,” Wally asks from beside her, returning her attention back to the conversation, she gives her two cents and laughs at Wally's expense at all the right times but she can't help but notice Barry's absence; made all the more apparent by the chill at her right shoulder.
He’s been gone for far too long considering his speed - heck, he's taking his time by regular standards.
Her eyes pop up, over the rim of her wine glass and spots him by the doors, chuckling at something the waitress is saying.
Iris wants to know what’s funny. She wants to laugh too.
At least that’s the excuse she tells herself getting up from the table. “I’m going to go check on Barry, make sure he’s okay.”
She doesn’t wait for a response, standing and moving across the open layout of patrons sitting around Gianni’s.
“There you are Barr, everything okay?”
She cast Jojo a look, wariness marked in the smolder of her eyes. They can never be too careful with strangers outside of their group. Barry should know this better than anyone by now.
“I’m fine,” his stance shifts from left to right, hand stretching up to ruffle hair at the nape of his neck. “I was just talking,” he sounds caught out, like he's been doing something he shouldn’t.
A part of Iris finds a semblance of joy in that.
She moves closer to him, reaching out to stroke his arm, up to his shoulder until the pads of her thumb flanks the edge of his jaw.
“I should probably get back.” To their ears, Jojo sounds a bit forlorn but smiles despite it. “My boss’ll kill me if he sees me standing around."
Iris exhales heavily, mirth assembling in her chest relieved with the growing distance Jojo created until she disappeared behind the doors of the kitchen. Her feel good moment doesn’t last long though, not with the way Barry’s eyes slant in her direction.
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. She’s lying. They both know it.
“Iris.”
She takes offense to that. The way he says her name, annoyed and bitter like she’s the one flaunting herself, alluding false hope.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks, giving way to the sharp edge where a trail of freckles ornaments the line. Iris counts five before they disappear behind the cover of his hand, shoulders dropping with a sigh in its’ wake.
“Seriously, Iris, stop just stop.”
He uses the same tired tone on her whenever she gets out of line. And maybe … maybe she might have crossed some metaphorical dividend in the sand but she’s only looking out for him.
“Barry-”
“I know.”
They’ve said and done this all before. At this point, it’s a relentless crossroad.
She wants him to be happy. Truly. Her makeup is not intentional, believe her, she wants nothing more than to see her best friend ride off into the sunset with the girl of his dreams.
Problem is, Iris is that girl.
He just can’t have her.
By a twist of fate, she can’t let him have anyone else.
“What are we going to do,” he asks, voice hushed in the foyer of the restaurant. “We can’t keep doing this.” What he really means is: he can’t keep doing this.
She doesn’t have a clue. “Your answer is as good as mine.”
Tongue in cheek, he turns on his heel, creating space, huffing irritability as he kicks the floor with the toe of his shoe.
“I can't be with you … but I can't be with anyone else either?”
A singular piece, the one she keeps tucked buried deep at the bottom of her soul, questions why would he want to be with someone else anyway.
Iris stalks closer, gaining on his unsuspecting back, the color of her nude nail polish is a stark contrast to the navy of his sweater; much like the tone of her skin against his. Like cream poured into a cup of hot coffee.
Her arms twine around his waist, like a vein to a tree, hands linking just below his navel. Inhale, exhale she reminds herself pressing her cheek firmly to the blade of his back. “I’m sorry.”
His hand follows, palm running smoothly along her wrist. “Don't be sorry, Iris, just … just tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.”
You.