“You want kids—“ Paul yanked his hand away and staggered back—“Always, even when you were a kid. And I. Don’t.”
Paul took a deep breath and looked away, but not before Barry glimpsed the wet sheen of his eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but couldn’t find the words.
“You deserve that dream,” Paul continued weakly, quietly, “Two kids, a picket fence around a two story home on the outskirts of one town, in one region. In one place.
“You deserve to have your wedding on a beach with your friends and family. You deserve to have a partner who wants your father to visit for dinner every damned week.”
Paul clenched his teeth hard enough that Barry swore he could hear grinding.
“You deserve better than—“
“Shut up.” Barry could hardly believe he had cut Paul off, but he couldn’t hear this. He didn’t want to.
He knew that Paul had been having trouble reconciling the fact that Barry had chosen to stay with Paul. That Paul had let him. That their careful tiptoeing around their relationship was a strain of the purple haired man’s life. Once again, he had misread his partner.
He though that Paul was having doubts about Barry’s worth. Not his own.
For once, everything around him seemed to slow down. Like his camera finally focusing on what was important.
He looked at Paul, who wasn’t looking at him.
He looked at his boyfriend? Lover? Partner, and the purple braid hung limply over his hunched shoulders, framing his tired eyes that were staunchly averted.
If there’s one thing Barry knew himself capable of, his strong point when all other abilities fail him under pressure, it’s reading people. Reading Paul.
He could see the tension lining his frame, the indecision and resignation on his face. The premature grief.
Talking. Reassuring. That, Barry could do.
“Paul,” Barry breathed out the fight that had been building in him since this began, with that single, precious word, “I’m going to tell you something, that I don’t think people say to you much.
He stated it simply and held firm when Paul’s sharp and weary eyes finally, finally, met his.
“Maybe you’re not what I always dreamed of,” Barry started honestly, ignoring Paul full-body flinch, “You won’t, can’t, give me a house in one place with picket fences and two kids. You can’t give me a stable, picturesque family that I always wanted, where I could have kids and always be there for them, a place where my friends and family could come over any day of the week and have dinner.”
Barry smiled and looked out over the water. The sun would rise soon.
“But—“ he reached out a hand a gently tucked a lock of plum hair behind Paul’s ear, “The future I dreamt of and the future I want now, they are two different things.
“I dreamt of stability, but these years of travelling with you, of working for the G-Men, for Interpol and the rangers, of running and not being able to—not having the time—to look back. These years have been the most exciting years of my life.”
Barry laughed, bright and loud, as memories of fire and gunshots and adventure played across his mind like a movie.
“I wouldn’t give this up, not for anything. Not anymore. You—“ Paul’s hand reached up to clasp over his own as he continued, “You are the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“I know it sounds corny.” He chuckled when Paul huffed a laugh.
Barry’s wide grin settled into something softer and more adoring against his will, when Paul’s lips twitched up into his favourite sort-of smile.
And as the sun finally peaked over the ocean’s gentle waves, casting the golden light of early morning onto them, Barry couldn’t imagine a more beautiful future than the one standing in front of him.
“My dream has evolved too!”
