What happens one day when a normal visit with Barry Allen turns into a confession?
Jitters rings with the typical sound of a crowded coffee shop: voices ringing, coffee beans being ground, the fresh smell of baked pastries, not to mention the pleasant smell of java in general.
"Okay there, Barry?" You look at your best friend quizzically, taking in his rapidly tapping foot.
Barry looks at you with a small smile, "Huh? What do you mean?"
"Your foot," you point out. "Nerves?"
"You could say that," Barry admits in a sheepish tone.
You sit yourself down in front of him, taking a sip of your pumpkin spice latte. "Tell me more."
"Nothing to tell," Barry shrugs you off.
"Maybe it's just a side effect of being struck by lightning," you laugh.
Your ears perk up as you hear a random stranger mention the word "Flash". You fold your hands professionally on the table in front of you. "Mr. Barry Allen, what is your opinion on this new phenomenon called The Flash? Hero or menace? Protagonist or antagonist? Or perhaps a vigilante maybe?"
Barry laughs at your reporter voice, taking on his own formal voice. "Well, Ms. l/n. I find the Flash a seemingly controversial topic for many civilians. Some say he's a mutant, perhaps a normal human being caught and tortured by evil scientists. Others say it's a hoax, some sort of well done CGI in use. But me personally, I think he's a real man. Some sort of meta-human, that's for sure."
"But Mr. Allen, a meta-human in itself is defined as a human with super powers, practically the same thing as a mutant." You smile, slyly.
"Whatever he is," Barry rolls his eyes. "He has certainly preserved the city, especially from all these other meta-humans appearing."
"Very true," you say, dropping your reporter voice. "I find him interesting, in fact I wouldn't mind writing a blog about him, one in which I could record all the sightings of him."
"Iris is doing something of that nature," Barry nods. "She has a lot of viewers."
"Well shucks," you laugh. "Guess I'm once again too late."
"What do you mean once again?" Barry furrows his eyebrows.
"Oh you know, she always had some of the highest grades in school. Killed it in the creative writing classes, reporting classes, literally any class that dealt with writing. And now she once again beat me, not only in snatching a job in the news world, but in starting a blog that is sure to interest every civilian in Central City."
"Hey, you know a key essential part that she lacks in her blog?" Barry sips his coffee.
"What's that?" You say, skeptical.
"She only writes about the Flash, not about the other meta-human sightings. Not about the antagonists or villains of modern life, that's a side door still open for grabs."
You nod thoughtfully, "That's true, Barry. Good idea, I'll beat her yet!"
"You guys could collab together even, send your readers to each other's websites. It'll help you both gain more readers and therefore more views." Barry suggests.
"Oh joy, working with Iris West." You say sarcastically. "Don't get me wrong, Barry. Talented writer? Yes. A person worth befriending and collaborating with? I think not."
Barry chuckles slightly, "You guys never did like each other, did you? Why is that, y/n?"
"Conflict of interests?" You shrug.
"That's not what I see." Barry leans over the table more, "I see it as too similar of interests, always trying to outdo one another. Always trying to show who's superior, who's the better writer. A typical girl fight."
"I beg to differ," you refute.
"I thought you guys would outgrow it once we all graduated from school, got occupations, started life as adults; seems I was wrong."
"Hey, I'm happy where I'm at." You defend, "Like I may not be writing as much as I wanted to, not writing articles like Ms. Iris West over there, but I still do what I love. I help other aspiring journalists, writers become better. I edit their work, critique it, push them to reach their full potential."
"I can't argue with that, but I still say you two are jealous of each other." Barry says simply.
"Why would she be jealous of me?" You scoff.
"Why wouldn't she be?" Barry counters, "Probably for the same reason you're jealous of her."
"I'm not jealous."
"Convincing," Barry smirks.
"I don't know," you say, irritably. "Sounds to me like you already have a guess, so why not share your observations?"
"You were jealous of her once you figured out I liked her, now the tables have turned."
"Wait a minute, how-" Your eyes widen as you comprehend the last part, "What do you mean the tables turned?"
Barry's brown eyes meet yours, "I like you, y/n."
You laugh, "You're joking, right?"
"Iris and I don't meet as often, we've lost the bond we had. After she rejected me, I started to see things in a different light. It just took me awhile to realize what I saw, I saw a future, a future with you."
"So you admit I still am second best," you shake your head angrily. "It took her rejection to realize that you maybe found me attractive, that I could be part of your future."
"That's not what I'm saying," Barry sighs. "You're not making it easy, y/n. I like you, I see something different in you, something that Iris lacks. You have a pure heart, a sweet kindness in your whole being, you're amazingly funny, you're literally beautiful in every way."
By now your anger had been calmed by Barry's soft words. "You actually like me?"
"Yes," Barry laughs. "You're beautiful, gorgeous even. The way you laugh, it's adorable. The way the corner of your eyes crinkle as you smile, the way a simple blush rises to your cheeks every time someone compliments you. The way you cock your eyebrows when you decide to get cocky and show some attitude, it's honestly heart-melting."
You blush at his words, and stare hard at the table in front of you.
"See? You're even doing it right now, blushing madly. You make it hard for a guy not to fall for you."
"Could say the same thing about you," you finally say. "You make girls blush without realizing it, make girls go weak at the knees for your chivalry, charm girls with your good looks and humor, not to mention those dimples you possess."
"Awww, y/n." Barry laughs, however you notice how red his cheeks have gotten.
"Kiss me?" you ask with a small smirk.
Barry leans over the table, his cologne filling your nostrils at the closeness between you two.
Your eyes close involuntarily as you feel his lips meet yours, it wasn't a needy or lust-filled kiss, more of a gentle one. "Mmmmm," you say as he pulls away.
"Like it?" Barry struggles to maintain his calm voice.
"Let's do that more often," you giggle and shyly tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
"Bet," Barry laughs as his lips meet yours once more.