#TheFlashfanfiction

[everlock101]

Invisible

I recently received some compliments on this story so I decided to post here as well as fanfiction.net. This is just a fun little story I had in my head one day. Hope you like it.

I do not own any Flash characters.  

.........

Summary: Allie Allen has always felt invisible as Barry Allen’s sister. But two thieves may just alter her life in a big way. 

Being able to become invisible is perfectly fitting, I thought to myself as I watched Cisco, Caitlyn, and Wells fuss over Barry. He’d just fought against a metahuman that could control mechanical bees and Caitlin was worrying over him. 

Not me. Because I could create force fields and I hadn’t been stung so obviously I hadn’t been hurt. 

Except for my dislocated shoulder from where I’d been dropped from about fifteen feet up.   

It shouldn’t have surprised me that nothing had changed. Barry was the one who had seen our mother die. Barry was the one who was so smart. Barry was the one who had gotten the scholarships, who had always excelled, who had always been a go-getter. 

I just wasn’t like that. I’d been a straight C student, had gone to local community college and worked as a custodian for the university. I hadn’t been the one to have nightmares about our mother’s dead body.   

I trudged through the streets, cradling my injured arm, thinking that invisibility seemed moot since no one really noticed me anyway.  

Sure, I knew most people felt that way at some point in their lives and sure, I knew I would be missed if I ever did act on the dark thoughts that crept into my mind sometimes at night. 

But sometimes, the simple idea of nonexistence was really appealing to me.

Laughter broke me from my rather morbid thoughts. I glanced up to see Saints and Sinners and, seized with a reckless impulse, I walked inside. 

This definitely wasn't my scene. Everything was gritty and dark and a cloud of smoke seemed to hang over everything. I coughed and wound my way to the bar.

I wasn't dressed for bar-hopping either. I still wore the loose pants and wrinkled shirt I wore under my super suit. I ordered a drink and downed it, welcoming the numbing sensation in my arm. 

And then I heard their voices.

“Well well well, if it isn't Miss Allen,” I groaned quietly before I turned to see Snart and Rory plopping down on either side of me. Despite their criminal nature and the multiple attempts on my life and my brother’s, I actually felt surprisingly safe with Rory's bulk on one side and Snart's icy gaze on the other. 

“What do you want?” I asked tiredly as I downed my second shot. I waved for more. 

“To know what a pretty thing like you is doing in a place like this,” Snart continued, sipping his beer and gazing at me curiously.

“This ain't your scene, doll,” Rory added in a grumble. 

“How do you know?” I shot back. I finished three more shots in rapid succession and felt pleasantly buzzed. The alcohol made me feel warm and fuzzy and the pain in my arm was a distant memory. Fortunately, my powers hadn’t stripped away my ability to be drunk.

“Because you're a goody-two-shoes like your brother,” Rory grunted. I let out a derisive laugh. 

“Let's not bring up my brother,” I said darkly, polishing off another shot. 

“Touchy subject?” I didn't respond as I downed another drink. 

“What happened to your shoulder, kid?” Snart asked. I shrugged without thinking and let out a hiss as the pain flared back briefly. Suddenly, Rory’s hand landed on my dislocated shoulder. I winced. 

“Dislocated,” Rory grunted. Snart’s brow furrowed and he leaned in behind me to examine it. 

“I’m fine. I can take care of it,” I replied. 

“Take a deep breath,” Rory ordered. 

“Wha-” A second later, there was a crunch and pain flooded through my arm, shoulder, and chest. Snart’s hand clapped over my mouth and I screamed into it. 

I dropped my head on the bar as Rory let go of my arm. I breathed deeply for a few moments until the pain subsided to a dull throb.

“You’re a dick,” I groaned. 

“You’re welcome,” Rory shot back. Snart waved for some more shots and I eagerly downed another.   

…

An hour later, I hung off of Rory as Snart picked the lock on my door. I giggled.

“I'm so glad you know how to do that,” I slurred. “Finding my key sounds like a headache.” The door opened and Rory hauled me inside. I giggled again as my feet left the floor.

“Wheee!!” I laughed as Rory carried me through my small apartment to my bedroom. He sat me on my bed where I flopped back and blew hair from my face. 

Snart pulled off my shoes and Rory undid my braid, his hands surprisingly gentle for their size. Carefully, they maneuvered me out of my jacket and overshirt so I was left in my jeans and a tank top. 

I tried to think of the last time anyone had treated me so gently but couldn’t. Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of waking up to a cold, empty apartment and a cold empty life. 

My loneliness came swiftly, sweeping over me like a dark, heavy blanket. Tears dripped down my temples. 

“Kid?” Snart had asked me something. I just turned away from him. I didn't want them to see me cry. 

“Kid?” Snart’s voice softened and I felt a hand touch my hair. 

Rory came to my other side and touched my hand lightly. 

I blamed the alcohol.

All of it came out in a rush of choked tears. All the dreadful feelings of being perfectly completely invisible, even without my powers in the mix. I cried and cried until I felt empty but clean. 

“Please don't leave.” The words slipped from my tongue before I drifted off. 

…

I woke with a dull headache but I was warm and comfortable. I cracked open an eye. The room was dim which I was grateful for. Someone shifted in the bed beside me and I blushed, remembering what I had asked Mick Rory and Leonard Snart of all people. 

What was even stranger was that they had listened.

I looked over my shoulder to see the broad, bulky outline of Rory. He was still asleep, his warm breath fanning over my neck and shoulders. Snart was nowhere to be seen. 

I carefully got out of bed and left my room, stopping only to hit the bathroom quickly. 

Something smelled wonderful, coaxing me through the apartment. I stepped into the kitchen to see fresh croissants and double chocolate chunk muffins steaming on the counter.

Snart stood at the coffee maker, one of my Flash mugs held to his lips. He quirked an eyebrow at me over the cup and held out another steaming mug to me. I eagerly accepted the coffee and the aspirin he pushed my way. I took two pills, grabbed a chocolate muffin and leaned against the counter beside him.

It seemed terribly domestic; the two of us standing here in soft silence, drinking coffee and waiting for the morning to fully rise. It felt nice. Snart’s presence filled the little kitchen making the usual lonely room feel a bit brighter. I suddenly snorted. 

Snart, who seemed perfectly content to communicate nonverbally, quirked his eyebrow at me again. 

“I'm just imagining Barry or Joe's reaction if they walked in right now.” I laughed again but it was a bit bitter this time (they hadn't visited my apartment since I'd moved in) and Leonard snorted as well. 

Rory stumbled in, eyes still closed. He banged his hip against the counter but still managed to fumble his way to the third mug of coffee. He gave us a grunt of greeting before bumping his lips against Snart's in a short good morning kiss. I stared in amazement as Rory, a convicted arsonist/murderer/thief curled up on Snart's shoulder and Snart, convicted master thief and murderer let him, and drank his coffee.

“This is so weird.” 

…

When I returned home from work, I wasn’t expecting to step into the smell of chicken and rice. I sniffed curiously as I hung up my jacket and purse. 

I paused and just took in the scene that greeted me from my kitchen. Rory was crouched in front of my oven in flannel pajama bottoms and no shirt. Snart sat on my counter next to a rice cooker that definitely hadn’t come from my kitchen and sipped a Coke. 

“Aw, welcome home,” he greeted. Mick glanced over his burned shoulder at me. 

“Um, hi?” I dropped my keys into the little mason jar on the counter. 

“Mick’s making baked chicken with rice and we’ve got some mixed veggies in the microwave,” he explained. “Hope you like it.” 

“Sounds...great…” I blinked a few times as if expecting the scene to suddenly vanish. Snart just raised an eyebrow. 

“What? You asked us to stay.” I stared at him and felt my lips turn upward. 

The food was delicious. My powers, like Barry’s, required a lot of upkeep. I burned a lot more calories than before the accident even when I didn’t use my powers. 

I polished off my plate and eyed the last bit of rice and veggies. 

“You can have the rest,” Rory told me. I eagerly scooped them onto my plate and devoured them. I was still hungry and tried to think about what else might be in my fridge. 

“Are you still hungry?” Snart asked. I flushed. 

“I have to eat a lot to keep up my powers. Barry has to eat more though.” My jaw clicked shut. I was letting myself get too comfortable with criminals who had it out for my brother.

“How much a day?” Rory asked, sounding curious. I shrugged. 

“Well, I usually don’t eat enough so I can’t be sure.” Rory sat back tapping his fingers on the table, looking thoughtful. 

“Looks like you just gave Mick a challenge,” Snart chuckled. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Mick loves cooking. He’ll enjoy figuring out how much you need to eat.” I glanced between them hesitantly. 

“So...you two are...I mean...you’re gonna stick around.” I pushed the carrot around my plate. 

“What better way to learn about our enemy?’ My head jerked up but Rory and Snart both had amused glints in their eyes. I threw my napkin at them. 

....

We quickly settled into an routine. Rory and Snart slept over most nights, letting me know whenever they couldn’t make it over. It was easy to feel comfortable with them and I often worried that I was going to hell. 

But Rory’s cooking was probably worth it. He prepared huge meals, figuring out how much I needed to eat on a regular basis and what I liked to eat. They made me laugh and I felt more comfortable with them then I’d felt with Barry in years. 

...

The fight had been bad. A new meta-human had nearly killed Barry and me. 

“Barry?! Barry?! Are you alright!” Caitlin’s voice was the loudest but everyone was asking about Barry. I shut my comms off and walked away, not even having to turn invisible to avoid being noticed. 

I slumped into my apartment and sagged against the door. Everything just hurt: my three broken fingers, my fractured cheekbone, my dislocated knee, and every scrape, bump, and bruise.

“Doll?” I jerked upright then hissed in pain as my broken ribs twinged. Mick stood in the doorway to the kitchen holding a mixing bowl. He stared at me for a moment. 

“Len,” he called. Instantly, Len appeared from the living room. Worry filled his face as his eyes landed on me. He started forward and gently wrapped an arm around my waist. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” I almost wanted to cry as we started toward the living room. When Len saw how bad my limp was he simply scooped me up into a bridal hold. 

Len carried me into my bathroom and settled me on the closed toilet. Mick appeared a moment later with a first aid kit. 

“Ok, we’re going to get you out of this suit, sweetheart.” I nodded and let them maneuver me out of my ripped and blood stained clothes. My fractured wrist gave a particularly nasty twinge. 

“Who did this to you?” Mick demanded roughly. I looked up at him and realized that my left eye was beginning to swell shut. 

“Meta,” I mumbled. “Jeremy Briggs. He had super strength.” Mick nodded and exchanged an unreadable look with Len. 

I sat there in my undergarments as they worked in tandem to get my cleaned and patched up. Thankfully, they gave me some pain pills that worked quickly. 

“Alright, come here sweetheart.” Len scooped me back up after he had finished. Mick led us back into my bedroom and pulled some sleep clothes from my dresser. Carefully, gently, they got me into them and settled me into bed. They smoothed the blankets up over my chin. 

“Get some rest, doll,” Mick rumbled. I fumbled for their hands. 

“Please…” I swallowed the rest of my plea down nervously. They both just smiled. 

“I gotta clean up the kitchen,” Mick told me. 

“And then we’ll be back, alright sweetheart?” I nodded and Mick gave my uninjured hand a gentle squeeze. 

I dozed for a while, listening to them working in the kitchen. Finally, they returned wearing their own pajamas. I stirred as I felt them slipping into bed on either side of me. Their arms crossed over my waist. Len nuzzled his nose into my neck and I felt Mick press a warm kiss to my forehead. I sighed in contentment and easily slipped into sleep.

…

The next morning, I woke abruptly. I sat up, instantly looking for danger. My injuries all protested and I gasped, bending over. 

My bedroom door opened and Mick rushed to my side, helping me ease back into the pillows. My bed was empty. That’s what had woken me up. 

“Easy, doll. Easy.” 

“Where’d-where’d you go?” I gasped through my aching ribs. Mick brushed his fingers through my hair until I finally relaxed. 

“Len went out. I was just working on some food for ya.” My stomach clenched painfully. I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Mick chuckled lightly. 

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed my forehead and slipped from my room. 

I adjusted myself up against the pillows. He returned a few moments later with a tray full of food and several cups of water and orange juice. 

He set the food on my nightstand before sitting beside me. 

“Open up,” he said with a teasing glint in his eyes. I smiled weakly as he bgean feeding me. Mick had planned well; preparing only soft foods like eggs and oatmeal and fresh toast. 

Eating helped me feel a lot better and I started getting out of bed. 

“Hey, what’re ya doin’?” Mick tried to push me back down but I batted his hands away and got to my feet. 

“I’m ok. I need to go to the bathroom.” Mick huffed as I started toward the toilet. 

When I returned from the bathroom, Len was talking with Mick. My brow furrowed as they quickly stopped when I walked into the room. 

“What evil plan are you two concocting?” I asked, with a small laugh. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” Len drawled. 

“I had to pee,” I huffed. Len pointed and I sighed, sliding back under the covers. Len sat beside me while Mick cleaned up my empty plates and took them to the kitchen. 

“How are you feeling?” Len asked quietly. I shrugged. My powers helped me heal faster than normal, but not quite as fast as Barry. 

“Not terrible. Really sore but I’m healing up, especially after eating.” Len nodded.

“Good.” Len reached out to touch my chin, his icy eyes carefully examining the healing bruises on my face. “Gave us a good scare there.” I chewed on my lip as his hand fell back to the bed. 

“Why?” I asked quietly. 

“In case you missed the past few months, we’ve invested a lot into keeping you alive.” He gave me a smirk and a wink. “We’d hate to see that go to waste.” I snorted.

…

Two days later, I heard Jeremy’s name on the news. Curious, I turned up the volume on my TV. 

“Jeremy Briggs, a recently captured meta-human, was found dead in his cell last night.” I turned it off and looked toward the kitchen where Mick and Len peeked out. I arched an eyebrow at them. They just looked back innocently and I rolled my eyes. 

...        

I wasn’t sure when I fell in love with them. But I knew when I realized it. 

It was just another day, seven months into this new routine. I woke and shuffled my way into the kitchen. It was Saturday and I’d slept in past even Mick and yet there was coffee and breakfast still waiting for me. I eagerly gulped the hot drink and started munching a doughnut before following the noise of the TV to the living room. 

Mick was lounging on my couch, his bare feet propped up on my coffee table, snoring lightly. Len lay across him, focused on the news playing on the TV. 

Suddenly, the doughnut stuck in my throat. They looked perfect here in my apartment. The idea of crawling under Len’s legs and curling up against Mick’s side with my coffee sounded so normal and amazing. 

My heart dropped to the floor and so did my coffee mug. The shattering sound startled Mick and Len and they both shot up, eyes roving wildly over the scene, always ready for danger. I inhaled sharply as my eyes began to burn. I pressed my now empty hands to my mouth (my doughnut had fallen as well) and clamped my jaw shut to seal in any sob that might escape me. 

Because it would be just my luck to fall for two people already in a committed relationship. With each other. 

“Kid?” Len asked. 

I bolted before he could say anything else. I yanked my purse and keys off their hook and ran outside, my bare feet skidding on the damp metal stairs. 

“Allie!” Len and Mick had apparently given chase. I nearly tripped as I hit the pavement and I felt something cut my foot. 

“Allie, stop!” They’d gotten closer. They were faster. I’d never make it to my car. 

I threw myself off anything that would make my footprints stand out and felt energy rush over me as I became invisible. I quickly stepped out of reach as Len and Mick came to a halt, their heads whipping from side to side. 

“Allie!?” They both began to call. I stuffed my wrist to my mouth to muffle my cries and hurried away. 

…

I ended up at the police station. I avoided Joe or Barry and managed to get into Singh’s office without being noticed. He was on the phone but his eyebrows furrowed when he saw me. I was sure I looked a mess with my red cheeks, bleeding feet, swollen eyes, and pajamas which included one of Mick’s shirts and some sleep shorts. 

“What happened to you kid?” Singh asked after hanging up. I trembled as I sank into a chair. He grabbed the first aid kit from his desk then came to patch up my feet. 

“It’s-it’s complicated,” I rasped. I shuddered with another sob and buried my face in my hands. Singh, thankfully, didn't ask any more questions, just finished patching me up, then patted my shoulder, and let me cry. 

…

Avoiding my own apartment was a nightmare. I’d never given them a key but Mick and Len didn’t need one, even if I changed the locks. So I pretended that my apartment’s laundry was broken and stayed at Joe’s. 

No one seemed to notice my misery. Something was up with the Reverse-Flash and no one had time for my pathetic little problems. I’d never spent much time doing the hero stuff so no one really noticed my absence. 

Apparently Len and Mick did though. There was evidence of them looking for me all over. They blew up my phone with calls and texts and when I’d asked Joe to take me to my apartment, I’d glimpsed them watching from down the block. 

But I couldn’t face them. I couldn’t bear it. It would be better this way. Eventually, they’d forget about me and I’d go back to being invisible to everyone. 

…

Two weeks passed in utter misery. Joe and Iris were gone all the time now to help Bear. I missed my brother. It hadn't been so bad when we were kids. He had helped me with my homework, gone on imaginary adventures with me. We'd had fun.

I missed him sometimes. 

….

The night was quiet except for the creaking of the house. I stared up at my ceiling too lethargic to do anything else. 

And then I heard something. A click that was out of place. I sat up and strained my ears. Nothing. I was about to go back to staring into the void when I heard a stair creak under the weight of a foot.

Instantly, I turned invisible and crept from my room. I knew the places to avoid so I was completely silent as I went to the top of the stairs.

A man in a ski mask was creeping up. I could see his gun glinting in the moonlight.

I tiptoed back to my room and dialed Joe's number.

"Joe, there's someone-" 

"I'm sorry, Allie. I'll call you back." The phone went dead and my heart seized. 

Ok. Ok. It's fine. You're invisible and you can create force fields. You're fine. 

I went back to my door and peeked out. The man was stuffing a silver figurine into his shoulder bag. I slipped out behind him, focusing on keeping myself invisible. 

Too focused.

My foot hit a loose board. The man whirled and I startled out of my invisibility. Before I could throw up any kind of defense, he raised the gun and fired. 

Being shot wasn't like the movies. The gun was much louder, making my ears ring. I didn't fly backward. Instead, it felt like the bullet just tore through me. There was a brief moment where everything seemed to slow and I just stared at the robber in shock. 

I toppled backward and everything sped up again. Footsteps pounded back down the stairs. I heard a commotion, what sounded like a fight, but the shock was settling in, cold and hard. 

A voice swam over me. I looked up into familiar eyes. 

"M-Mick?" 

"Stay still." Pain suddenly exploded through me as he pressed down on my wound. I screamed. Bright spots flashed over my vision. 

“Leonard!” Mick sounded...afraid. But that couldn’t be. Mick wasn’t afraid of anything. I heard footsteps, heavy breathing, voices, and then I just…

Faded.

…

I woke to a rather annoying beeping sound. I fumbled for my alarm, desperate for a few more minutes of sleep. 

Blazing pain shot down my arm. I sucked in a sharp breath. My eyes flew open as a warm hand caught mine. 

"Easy, easy doll," Mick rumbled. I blinked at him, slowly relaxing into the pillows, the pain fading away to a dull ache. Len appeared by his side, worry gleaming in his eyes. 

"Hey kid, you're gonna be ok," he told me. 

Tears filled my eyes. I was so tired of hurting, of being in danger, of fear. 

“Hey, hey,” Mick rumbled. His thumb swept over my cheeks. I continued to cry. I was wrung out, miserable from my revelation about loving the two men, and in pain again. My heart was too heavy. 

“We’ve got ya,” Mick grunted. “We’ve got ya.”

…

I was able to return home after a few days. None of my family members or friends, had returned my calls. None of them knew I was in the hospital. When Mick and Len finally drove me home, I felt numb and miserable. 

“Kid-” Len started but I just walked past them and into my bedroom. I shut the door and locked it. I knew they could pick the lock but I hoped they would give me my space. I buried myself under my blankets and cried some more. 

…

I finally shuffled out a few hours later, expecting Mick and Len to have cleared out. I wasn't expecting to see them asleep on my couch. I stared at them and couldn’t help but smile as Mick snored loudly. My smile dropped and I shuffled into the kitchen. There were Tupperware containers sitting on the counter with food. I plucked one open and began eating dully. 

“Kid?” I sighed and put my fork down. I turned around to see Leonard. “You should be resting.”

“I’m fine,” I groused. Len’s brow furrowed and Mick walked up to me. I tensed as he reached for me. He let his hand drop. 

“What’s wrong, dollface? Other than the injured wing?” I sighed and pressed my palms to the cool countertop. 

“I love you.” The words slipped from my mouth quietly. “Both of you and I’m tired. I’m tired of hurting and I’m tired of being afraid and I’m tired of hiding how I feel from you both. I’m in love with you both and I know that you two are together and that we can’t be-” 

Mick kissed me. I sucked in a sharp breath as his large, warm hand came to cup my neck. My eyes fluttered shut. Leonard’s cool fingers brushed hair from my neck and then his lips brushed over my pulse. I trembled as they pulled away. I blinked rapidly and looked at them. Both of them smirked at me. 

“What were you saying?” Len asked. I could only stare at them. Mick leaned in and began kissing my throat, giving Len a chance to kiss me properly. 

“Wait,” I mumbled, pushing away from them only barely. “Does this mean…” Len rolled his eyes and Mick grunted. 

“Yeah, dollface.” Sparkles of warmth flooded my blood. I let out a watery yet happy giggle before kissing them again. 

[superindigosparrow-blog]

Check out my The Flash Fanfiction: “Cisco and the Meta Girl”

Summary: When a young English professor Lena Adler starts to believe that she has become part of the strange things that have been happening around Central city since the Particle Accelerator incident, even stranger things happen. A few run-ins with the Flash and she finds herself in S.T.A.R. Labs and meets Cisco, who admires her knack for nicknaming and love for movies.

Read it here:https://www.fanfiction.net/~indigosparrow

Or here: http://theflasharrowfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?sid=41

[inkykate]

WestAllen Week, Day 1: Holidays

Title: Glancing Blow

Rating: T 

Pairing: Barry Allen/Iris West

Warning: Angst. Mentions of alcohol use. Features some canon-based Eddie/Iris. (Appropriate to the timeline of the story, but not intended as end game.) Also, no beta - so any mistakes are my own.

Summary: It may be the cruelest thing Iris West has ever done, kissing Barry Allen on New Year’s.

Barry Allen slipped into the New Year’s Eve party at Jitters ten minutes after midnight, nodding at familiar faces in the crowd before settling in besides Caitlyn and Cisco at a table in the back.

From across the room, Iris West watched as Caitlyn and Cisco each bussed one of Barry’s cheeks before falling over each other in rather drunken giggles. Barry looked bemused by it all, had probably not gotten the memo on the rather heavily Irish coffee that was being served, and looked only vaguely resigned to the fact that he was going to be the one tucking them into cabs sooner rather than later.

Then their eyes met and his entire demeanor flickered, as though someone had turned the sheer wattage of Barry Allen down, before he caught himself and smiled, mouthed ‘Happy New Year.’ At her. His best friend. From across the room.

She smiled back, let herself be pulled back into conversation with Eddie and his friends, but she knew that it didn’t reach her eyes. Knew too that, for once, Barry hadn’t been late at all and had arrived exactly when he wanted.

God this was going to hurt for a while.

Iris drifted a little in the conversation, lulled by the spiked coffee and the solid warmth of Eddie at her side, arm around her shoulder. His friend Mike - from the gym by Eddie’s apartment - and Mike’s girlfriend Abby seemed… nice. Abby was going to loose 10 pounds; Mike wanted a promotion or a new job; Eddie wanted to be sure his task force made a difference. (There was something interesting in the way Eddie said that, without any mention of the Flash, that Iris wanted to pick apart later.)

Iris wanted, well, to give the people of Central City something to believe in. She wanted to turn her blog into something hard hitting, more than just a hobby or some school project after-thought. She wanted to know more about the Burning Man, about the Flash, about all the weird that was around every corner now. She wanted to get her Masters. She wanted Jitters to be a place she visited. She wanted to move in with Eddie and see what they could build together - no more secrets, no more hiding.

She wanted her best friend Barry back. Just like last year.

Iris West would never give up on Barry Allen. She wouldn’t lose him. It would be hard, but they could get Iris-and-Barry-Best-Friends-Forever back. And next year, Barry would show up late, but in time for midnight, and he’d be right here with her, with all their friends.

Which is why, when she saw Barry head upstairs … “Hey babe, I’m going to go and wish everyone a happy new year, ok?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gesture that was normally sweet and now was a bit sloppy. “Want me to come with?”

“Nah,” And she had to smile, because Eddie was a cheerful drunk for the most part and not a very subtle one. Talking football with Mike was absolutely what he wanted to be doing right then, but he’d come with her if she asked and never once begrudge her for it. “You guys catch up. I’ll be back soon.”

She stops by a couple people on her way to the stairs - Cisco, who is not as drunk as he seemed a moment ago; Caitlyn, who is not as happy - before pausing to look back. Eddie and Mike are laughing, loud, making wide gestures between them, coffee in hand. Abby is slowly curling in on herself, sinking towards sleep against the arm of Mike’s she’d claimed for herself as the evening wound down. They look happy, and maybe even optimistic and secure, and she really will be right back down to end the evening.

When Iris finally makes it to the roof, Barry is leaning on the railing, backlit by the city lights that only emphasize how tall and lanky he is. For a brief moment, Iris thinks of the Flash always in shadows, a tall dark stranger whose silhouette stretched out over the past few months.

Here, now, on the rooftop with Barry, where they would have their clandestine rendezvous, the Flash feels more like a specter. An idea, a heroic idea even, but one with no history, no anchor and an uncertain future.

“Hey Bear,” someone says, and she doesn’t recognize her own voice. She tries not to notice the way he stiffens, but then it’s there in every line of his body as her turns towards her.

“Hey Iris,” and she imagines she hears heartbreak in his voice, in the subdued, measured beat of words, in the way he barely manages a smile.

Its an ache by her heart, this distance between them. It lingers as she crosses to stand beside him at the railing, watching some of the revelry bleed out of the new year and into the streets, into people walking home and hailing cabs, holding hands with loved ones and thinking of warm beds and new beginnings.

She tries not to think about how many times they had done just that - curled up in PJs on the couch as children, stumbling home intertwined as buzzed adults. If he hadn’t hidden how he felt so well, she would have noticed, and maybe then they wouldn’t be here. Maybe if she had seen it sooner, she would have known what to do, so they wouldn’t be together but so far apart.

But god, how many times had he hidden ‘I Love You’ behind being genuinely happy for her? How many little things had hurt him because she hadn’t realized what he was really feeling? 

She would give anything to have the Barry that she thought she had back.

“Any resolutions this year?” Was he that uncomfortable with the silence between them?

“No, I mean,” Her mind stuttered, because bringing up resolutions like ‘be more involved in Eddie’s life’ seemed purposefully painful. “I have more of a goal. This is the year I decide what I’m going to be when I grow up.”

His face was tilted towards her, his eyes in shadow, so she was dependent on the wry quirk of his lips for hints. Never condescending, just curious. Because she had always been good at pinpointing what she wanted. “Have you narrowed it down? Any leads on who grown up Iris West will be?”

There is a shadow of movement, as if any other time he may have bumped her shoulder with his in solidarity. And there’s something in the way he says ‘grown up’ that makes her realize that a couple weeks ago she would have said that she already was - that she was her own woman, who made her own decisions and didn’t need to be coddled, that made her own money and paid her own way, and that could move in with her boyfriend if she wanted to. That could make the tough calls and could be ok.

She’s still that Iris. She’s 25; of course, she’s an adult. She’s just off balance, that’s all; not lost, just not exactly where she thought she was.

“Someone who makes a difference,” she says into the gap between them. She thinks about bringing people hope, showing people the truth. She thinks about believing in something better in humanity, not always looking for it at its worst.

If she didn’t get out of her own head, she’d go crazy. She’d never had such a failure of a conversation with Barry before. “How about you? Any resolutions? Goals?”

She stops herself from reaching out, looping her arm through his.

“I think I need to think about my future,” the words come slowly, but not reluctantly. Barry isn’t looking at her now, but gazing off as if he can see to the edge of the world. “Make decisions that aren’t based in fear.”

It’s vague, and it’s ominous. Between the lines, she hears him say ‘I love you’ and she could hear him say ‘goodbye’ as he leaves Central City behind. She can hear the weight of his mother’s death and his father’s incarceration, can see how it shaped him right until this moment.

“Maybe I should just be glad to be awake for most of it,” he teases, and its not funny, but he lists to his left brushing her arm.

She doesn’t even think about it before finding his hand and linking their fingers. Barry goes absolutely still - and she wants to scream. And maybe she is tired, and maybe she is a little bit drunk, but she can almost see the bruises her touch leaves behind.

“I hope you have a wonderful year, Barry,” she exhales. She should leave, because it is too soon to bridge their emotional divide. She should leave, because Eddie is downstairs and he loves her. She should leave, because Barry is right here and he loves her and right now that’s hurting both of them. She should leave, and it’s New Year’s Day, and she has probably had a bit too much to drink.

And she goes to. And it is an empty, habitual gesture, but she leans in to brush a quick kiss on his cheek, happy new year, and Barry turns his head, breathing in to wish her well. And she sees it coming, in slow motion, but she can’t stop herself in time - and in the space of a heartbeat, her lips glance over his.

If it had just been this, an accidental brush, she thinks later, it would have been ok. 

Iris isn’t sure how, but, between one heartbeat and the next breath, her lips find his again. They are warm and soft, and they slide smooth beneath hers, clinging at the edges. And she sinks in, tasting cinnamon and nutmeg from his coffee downstairs, and feeling an elastic friction that bubbles through her and fizzes down her spine. 

Her head tilts, and his mouth follows, and in the next moment they are on the precipice of a truly dirty kiss. They both breath in, or they both gasp, and their lips part and their mouths come together. There are tongues, a sharp frisson of tension and heat, and a delicious pressure that fills her up and sends tingles down to her toes.

And she is kissing Barry Allen. Oh god.

They pull back at the same time, in sync as they hadn’t been before. The space between them has more weight now, and she cannot believe that that just happened. She cannot articulate what it even was, except now there is something like horror in Barry’s face and she can see his heart, broken, in his eyes. 

He steps back, putting space between them and stumbling over himself, and she is cold and her lips tingle. And, “Oh god, Iris. I’m so sorry.” Barry trips over the words, disjointed and graceless. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t. I didn’t mean, oh god. I’m so sorry. I…”

She can see where he is falling apart by how he pulls himself back together. “I’m just… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomftable. And, just… Happy New Year.”

He’s gone before she can even think to say, “But I think I kissed you.”

It may be the cruelest thing she has ever done, kissing Barry Allen on New Year’s.