[ barry had made himself a promise: he'd never be slow again. ]
[ when wells had stolen a slip of his speed, he had vowed to work faster, harder, and to become quicker and more powerful than he'd ever been before. he swore it to himself, to mom, to dad, to cisco and caitlin, to wells and iris and joe. he had sworn it over and over, and had vowed, to the speed force, he'd never be tardy again. ]
[ barry runs as fast as he can, as hard as his feet will allow him. he's on the far side of the grounds, but he can feel the air rush right by him, even slap against his face. it's nothing new to run in his normal clothes than it is to be dressed as the flash, but there's a slight difference. he can feel the corners of his shirt begin to singe, albeit comically slowly, and those shoes iris had gotten him would've been ash by now. ]
[ the doors of the mansion slam open and close after a great big exhale of wind being pushed by his body. he cares very little for how loud it is, if it reverberates throughout the mansion. barry zips up the stairs so fast he thinks he phases through the walls, and when he gets to her floor — zips right toward iris and the approaching purple cloud. ]
[ or the dispersing little storm. barry can't tell. there's no time to investigate whether or not he'd been late for a very important date. ]
[ barry folds underneath her, arm around her waist and catching her, his other hand holding her phone he hadn't realised he'd scooped from the floor. he doesn't waste time in trying to settle iris into his arms. taking off again, he zips through the mansion and into his room, sealing it shut with all that he can — wanting the walls to be thick, the plaster to be impenetrable, the gap beneath the door to be filled. ]
[ then he stops. iris is a weight against him that's often too comfortable, but he isn't so sure he should feel relieved with having caught her in the knick of time. ]
Hey, Iris. [ fingers curling into the fabric of her dress, his other brushes against her cheek and hair. he waits for her to open her eyes or shift. his voice remains soft, but there's a slight edge of panic that makes it sharp and as hot as his kinetic energy. ] Iris?
[ he remembers, then, that he hadn't saved her coffee. ]
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[ when wells had stolen a slip of his speed, he had vowed to work faster, harder, and to become quicker and more powerful than he'd ever been before. he swore it to himself, to mom, to dad, to cisco and caitlin, to wells and iris and joe. he had sworn it over and over, and had vowed, to the speed force, he'd never be tardy again. ]
[ barry runs as fast as he can, as hard as his feet will allow him. he's on the far side of the grounds, but he can feel the air rush right by him, even slap against his face. it's nothing new to run in his normal clothes than it is to be dressed as the flash, but there's a slight difference. he can feel the corners of his shirt begin to singe, albeit comically slowly, and those shoes iris had gotten him would've been ash by now. ]
[ the doors of the mansion slam open and close after a great big exhale of wind being pushed by his body. he cares very little for how loud it is, if it reverberates throughout the mansion. barry zips up the stairs so fast he thinks he phases through the walls, and when he gets to her floor — zips right toward iris and the approaching purple cloud. ]
[ or the dispersing little storm. barry can't tell. there's no time to investigate whether or not he'd been late for a very important date. ]
[ barry folds underneath her, arm around her waist and catching her, his other hand holding her phone he hadn't realised he'd scooped from the floor. he doesn't waste time in trying to settle iris into his arms. taking off again, he zips through the mansion and into his room, sealing it shut with all that he can — wanting the walls to be thick, the plaster to be impenetrable, the gap beneath the door to be filled. ]
[ then he stops. iris is a weight against him that's often too comfortable, but he isn't so sure he should feel relieved with having caught her in the knick of time. ]
Hey, Iris. [ fingers curling into the fabric of her dress, his other brushes against her cheek and hair. he waits for her to open her eyes or shift. his voice remains soft, but there's a slight edge of panic that makes it sharp and as hot as his kinetic energy. ] Iris?
[ he remembers, then, that he hadn't saved her coffee. ]