Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who's been leaving reviews. You guys are amazing. Here's another one I wrote because they were too cute in the last episode. As always, let me know what you think.
Standard disclaimers apply.
"Cisco says I don't have a life," she admits, arms crossing on her abdomen.
She has that adorable pout on and he can't keep himself from smiling. He is reminded of their first actual conversation, the one where he told her about her not smiling enough.
"You don't. Do you?"
"I do. I cook and I eat and I… read."
He watches her struggle with her list, a smile forming on his face as he finds that he's not even slightly discouraged by the lack of "fun" things in her recitation.
"We are quite the pair, Mr. Allen."
"Yes we are, Dr. Snow."
They both realize that they're back at dangerously flirty territory with their persistent banter.
More importantly, they realize, they're not even remotely scared about it.
He recognizes the tone. It's one he often hears when he's on the table, being patched up and wiped clean.
"This is a bullet wound. You're lucky it just barely broke the skin."
Her palm is planted on his neck, thumb gently caressing the injured skin. She watches it heal a lot faster than normal, but not fast enough to shake the twist in her gut as she remembers how close he was to inevitable death.
"Guess I'm a lot faster than a speeding bullet," he jokes, but his humor dies in his chest when he looks up to see the concern evident on her face.
"Caitlin," he begins, trying to get her to meet his eyes.
But he's overwhelmed at what he's met with when she does.
Maybe he's hitting buttons too close to home. Maybe she's reminded of losing Ronnie. Maybe, as his doctor, she's worried about the clinical repercussions of his lifestyle.
But right now, he doesn't think this is Dr. Caitlin Snow. He doesn't think this is about Ronnie.
He thinks, maybe, this is about them.
So he brushes away an errant strand of hair and places his palm on her cheek, tilting her face so her eyes meet his.
And when he sees that that isn't enough, he adds.
"I'll be carefully next time."
That's all she's ever really asked.
He's known since he first laid eyes on her that Caitlin Snow is attractive.
But tonight, as his brain struggles to recover its basic neurological functions, he comes to the realization that he was wrong.
Dr. Caitlin Snow isn't attractive.
Dr. Caitlin Snow is wow.
There is no other word.
Barry watches her saunter into the bar, not even marginally aware of the number of heads she's turned in the four seconds she's been inside.
And, thankfully, not aware of the backflips his stomach has been doing in the last five.
"What?," she starts.
That almost brings him out of his enchanted stupor.
"You look… really nice."
"Mr. Barry Allennnnnnn…"
Her cadence carries over the whole bar, whipping heads in her direction.
He struggles to keep from growling at the all testosterone aimed at Caitlin.
So he crosses the floor and climbs up the steps to join her. He's never really one for public performances, or anything public, for that matter.
But he doesn't think he can ever say no to her. And, if he's being entirely honest, he needs to show the crowd that she's with him. And that he's with her.
Even though they're not really with each other.
When the music starts and her voice reverberates against the walls, he watches her hair bounce on her shoulders in time with the music.
He already knows this is one of the nights he won't forget. Ironically, he thinks, its one she will probably not remember.
They make their way back to the bar, his hand on the small of her back, and the other holding her hand, guiding her across the sticky floor.
As they reach the destination, she picks up another drink they both know isn't hers and downs it in one go.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she says, a little slur in her voice.
He rises to his feet to walk her to the ladies' room but she shakes her head at his attempt at chivalry.
She's gone before he can even begin to insist.
He holds her hair safe from behind, rubbing her back up and down comfortingly as she empties her stomach.
When the heaving dies down he pulls her up to sit against the tiled wall of her impressively decorated bathroom.
Grabbing a towel from the side, he wets it with warm water and swipes it across her face.
"So? Are you gonna call her?"
"Who?" he answers with a smile, feigning ignorance.
"That girl who gave you her number."
He notices that she's refusing to meet his eyes, training them on the carpeted floor.
But her tone is always what gives her away.
It doesn't make sense to him how she can be so insecure about herself.
Because, hello. Have you seen Caitlin Snow?
PhD at 23. 102 lbs. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Brilliant mind. Incredibly kind heart.
It's moments like this when he wishes that his powers allowed him to show her just how amazing she is.
Because she is. Really. Truly. Amazing.
"She asked me if you're my girlfriend," he says, turning her around so he can walk her to the bed.
"What did you say?," she answers as her head hits the pillow, uncertainty swimming in her eyes.
"I said yes."
He hopes his words carry the level of sincerity he said it with, hopes she isn't too drunk to detect his truth.
"I also said that you are amazing scientist, doctor, friend."
He pulls the blanket over her as he watches fight to keep conscious.
"I told her that you bite your lip when you're worried about something, that you cross your arms when you feel scared or threatened. I told her that your nose wrinkles when you laugh and that your eyes shine when you talk about Differential Gene Expression."
"Why?," she whispers, eyes almost dropping.
"Because they do," he answers with another small laugh, not sure why she's even asking.
"No," she shakes her head, forcing her eyes open.
"Why did you tell her I'm your girlfriend?"
He wishes, as he watches the insecurity flood her irises once again, that he could just wipe away all the pain she's had to go through; that he can just slay the ugly monsters that keep her up at night – the ones with fiery red flames for a hair, the ones of explosions and shattered futures.
He vows that he will try.
"Because I want you to be."
Her eyes snap open so fast he's worried it might have hurt but the smile that graces her lips reassures him.
"Me, too," she says, allowing her eyes to drop close, lips still beaming with a smile.
He's caught off guard by her admission, but he makes a bold move and plants a kiss on her cheek.
He can feel her smile widen under her lips.
When he pulls back to leave, he finds her hand wrapped around his wrist.
"Will you stay til I fall asleep?," she asks as she snuggles deeper into the covers.
"Sure, yeah," he acquiesces, picking a spot on the bed and absently rubbing soothing circles on her leg.
Later on, when she's snoring softly, her breath moving some of her hair, he places some aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table.
He scribbles a note on a Post-it he found lying around the living room.
I'll stay until you let me.
AN: Thank you so much for reading! Leave a review! xx