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My gears are already turning for a Barry/Music meister fic. But...wtf would Barry call him? We didn't get a name! "Hey, Barry." "Hey, music meister." No.

#music meister #the flash #Barry Allen #flashmeister

Meister Strikes Again (1/1)

Summary: The Music Meister brings Barry to him in a dream and leaves Barry flabbergasted.

Barry felt exhausted. His body dragged over to his bed where he finally collapsed. Three metahumans in one day. All now safely in their cells at STAR Labs where Cisco would feed them, or Caitlin would feed them, or someone would but Barry didn’t really care who was taking care of them at the moment.

He struggled to take his jeans off as he wiggled up his mattress, too tired to even stand to undress. He kicked his jeans off and pulled off his sweatshirt, tossing it somewhere to be dealt with tomorrow. Left only in his boxers, Barry pulled his blanket up around his body and buried his head in his pillow. The Flash did a lot today, it was time to rest.

No sooner than he closed his eyes, Barry was jolted awake. He sat up and looked around in fright, unsure of what had awoken him. But he wasn’t in his bed anymore. This wasn’t his apartment. This wasn’t even a place he recognized. He was sitting on a velvet chaise in a dimly lit room. There was a small window in the corner of the room, covered by a large maroon curtain. The only other light in the room came from a lamp next to the chaise, which also had a maroon curtain draped over half of it, not letting its full brightness shine. There was a dark hard wood floor and the walls were covered in cream colored wallpaper. There were boxes lining the walls and the chaise was the only piece of actual furniture in there.

“Hello?” Barry called out.

A door opposite the window started to creak open and Barry got to his feet. He felt a shiver and looked down to realize that he was still only in his boxers. He made to bolt from the room before the mysterious stranger could enter, but was stunned to find that his powers weren’t working.

“Who’s there?” Barry tried again. He had to be dreaming. That was it. Hadn’t he just gone to bed? This was all some exhaustion-induced dream.

“Barry, Barry, Barry,” a familiar voice drifted in the door, followed by the man it belonged to.