Archive of Our Own

Barry scrubbed his hands through his hair. It hadn't been neat, by any measure of the word, before he did so. After he did so, it stuck out in every direction.

He was a bad person.

That was all he could surmise.

He had the perfect, most loving and loyal wife, and he just wasn't a good enough person to be just as devoted right back. No, he had to have the proverbial wandering eye. (I mean, it was always Hal, and it was just Hal – but still.)

That wasn't great.

It wasn't even good. Or morally questionable. It was just… bad.

And he couldn't just keep sweeping it under the rug, not when his heart took up inappropriately timed acrobatics whenever Hal slapped him on the shoulder. Seriously! Heart flips from a shoulder clap. You couldn't get much more "bro" than a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, and there Barry was getting practically lovesick over them. 

"Bear?" Iris waved a hand in front of his face, looking equal parts fond and exasperated. "Hon, you good?" She must have just sat across from him, at their kitchen table.

"Fine!" Barry shot ramrod straight in his seat and leaned away from her.

"Right," she smirked at him. He loved that smirk, usually. It was her "I know something you don't" smirk. He wasn't as fond of being on the receiving end of it.

"What?"

Iris shook her head and glanced down at the remains of her breakfast, still smiling.

"C'mon, Ie, what is it?"

"Nothing, Bear," Iris crossed her heart absently. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, now I'm gonna worry about it."

"It's fine, I promise."

Barry groaned and dropped his head on the table. He trusted Iris, to hell and back, but her cryptic comments always had a negative affect on him. Probably because he was a jittery, anxious, mildly paranoid guy who had the logic to counter his worries, but the anxiety that didn't care how much logic he had – it was going to stay anxious.

(It would have helped if his anxiety medications, before the lightning, still worked for him – but the sped up nature of his metabolism meant that they didn't work anymore, they were run right out of his system. And, really, it was fine – he'd found new ways to mitigate and live with anxieties – he just kind of missed the leg-up that he'd been able to receive from the medication side of anxiety treatment.)

(Luckily, exercise was a viable alternative for anxiety management, for Barry.)

"Hey, Bear," Iris tapped him on the shoulder a few times, "you're gonna be late if you don't get going soon."

"I can just run," Barry mumbled to the table.

"No, hon. I mean you'll be late if you don't run soon," Iris said, ridiculously fond.

"What?" Barry glanced at the clock and. Shit. He groaned, scrubbed both hands through his hair, and hopped to his feet. He must have let time slip while he was playing the "woe is me" game about his traitor heart.

"Have a good day at work, Barry." Iris stood and slid around the table to give him a kiss. "Don't forget, you have a League Meeting tonight. Say hi to Hal for me."

Barry flinched a bit.

Iris clicked her tongue, still unduly fond, while Barry stood there feeling like a cheater. "Don't forget to double knot your shoelaces. You don't want a repeat of Tuesday."

"Yeah," Barry agreed, eyes averted.

Iris gave him another kiss that he didn't feel at all like he deserved. "One for Hal," she said, winking as she stepped back. "Pass it on to him for me, will you?"

That startled a bit of a laugh out of Barry, and a striking heat that rose to his face. He was probably about as red as Wally's hair for a few seconds, there, or as red as his own suit. "You want me to kiss Hal for you?" His traitor heart – curse it, honestly – did a little belly flop in his rib cage at the idea of kissing Hal, even if it was just a joking peck on the cheek, "passed on" from Iris.

"If you're man enough for it," Iris said. She gave another of her cryptic smiles, the one that hid all kinds of secrets behind the uneven cant of her smirk. Higher on one side than the other.

"Ie," Barry said, sounding a bit strangled on the single syllable. How ridiculous could he get.

"You're gonna be late, Hero," Iris gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. "We can talk later tonight, yeah? Wally's out with his man, so we'll have some privacy. I have a feeling he won't be home until tomorrow morning or so, anyway."

"Why? He's better about time than I am."

"Oh, you know Rob. He's not patient when he doesn't have to be. He's probably tired of being subtle with Wally. And if he does away with subtlety, he might just invite Wally up for coffee, in a manner of speaking."

"Coffee gives Wally the jitters, though," Barry frowned. "Rob knows that."

"Sex, honey. Wally's probably getting lucky tonight."

Barry gasped and put a hand to his collarbone. "I don't want to know about my nephew's sex life, Ie!"

"That's why I tried to use the euphemism. You're officially late, by the way."

Barry swore. He had a few follow up questions, but a glance at the clock told him that he was, in fact, already late, so he had to zip out and down to the station, instead.

–

"Barry!"

Barry slammed his knee against the corner of his workspace, turning too fast at the sound of his name. "Hal!"

Where Hal's greeting had been excited and happy, Barry's was full of nervous energy and foreboding, which Hal seemed to either miss or ignore. Probably the latter. Hal was used to getting shock and outrage in return for showing up unannounced at Barry's workplace.

"I'm here to take you to lunch, Care Bear. On me," Hal propped his hands on his hips and gave Barry a lopsided smile.

"I already had lunch?" Two pizzas from Antonio's, scarfed down between tasks. But the lack of actual lunch break didn't make it less lunch.

"Second lunch, then!" Hal said brightly.

"Uh."

"Awesome! Let's get going." Hal took Barry by the collar of his lab coat, divested him of said lab coat with a flourish, then tossed it over the back of one of the unused chairs in the room. "Besides, ya can't live off pizza, Bear."

"How can you possibly know it was pizza?"

Hal thumbed over at Barry's recycling, which was piled high with a week's worth of pizza boxes. Which was quite a lot of boxes.

"Oh."

"Yeah, you have a pattern," Hal grinned.

"But we—"

"Yeah, yeah. League meeting later. I know. But that's not the same as seeing my bestie just because I wanna see him, man," Hal steered Barry out of the forensics lab. "You'll just have to put up with me twice, today."

Barry wasn't sure how to take that. His traitor heart wanted to take it as a romantic overture of some kind, but Hal respected Iris way too much for that. Barry was also immediately ashamed of himself for that thought. God, Iris really did deserve better. So did Hal, really. Because Barry still really, truly loved Iris, too, which meant that he was doing basically the same thing to both Iris and Hal.

"How's burgers sound?"

"Uh—"

"Diner burgers, though. None of that Big Belly Burger shit. I want a real burger. You?" Hal threw an arm around Barry's shoulders, just palling around, as he walked Barry past all his coworkers.

"Sure, Hal." Barry was almost certainly blushing, and was white enough that it was probably immediately obvious. "I should probably tell Joe or Singh that I'm headed out—"

"Already handled, pal."

"Oh," Barry said, voice small. He felt like mush. Putty. A pool of speedster. "You thought ahead."

"Yep," Hal popped the 'p.' he released his hold on Barry to skip ahead and hold the door open for Barry.

Barry, mildly alarmed, found himself feeling more and more like it was a date. But that was wishful thinking. Hal was always playfully chivalrous and free with his affection. Barry just wanted it to be a date, and it was colouring his perception. It was kind of pathetic.

"You know, I should actually probably, uh…" Barry shuffled back a step and thumbed over his shoulder nervously, back at his lab. "There's a huge backlog, yeah? I should… yeah."

"It won't get up and run away while you're out at lunch," Hal caught him by the wrist and continued out the door.

"With the world we live in? You never know."

Barry didn't think it was particularly funny, but Hal gave him a bark of laughter and a huge grin. "Fair enough, but I'm still dragging you to lunch, kicking and screaming if I have to. If nothing else, it'll fuel you up for any bits of backlog that grow little legs and run off."

Barry snorted, in spite of himself. And gave in. It wasn't like he could say no to Hal. Or Iris. (Or Batman, but that was irrelevant.)

Hal smirked, probably in the knowledge that he'd won.

Barry and Hal stepped out onto the sidewalk. Hal then stopped to give an exaggerated motion to a butt ugly Harley, parked out front of the police department. "Whattaya think?"

Okay, it wasn't "ugly." It just wasn't Barry's idea of a nice looking vehicle. But his idea of a nice looking vehicle was something respectable and reserved, unless it was his own two feet. Nevermind that his suit was hotrod red.

The bike Hal motioned towards was a neutral coloured utilitarian type bike. It was actually pretty far from the worst bike Barry had ever laid eyes on. That was reserved for the ridiculous custom jobs that he saw going into impound, sometimes.

Barry put his hands on his hips and tried to think of a neutral response that conveyed neither that he liked the bike, nor that he particularly disliked it.

"That's better than I expected," Hal laughed. He walked over to the bike and swung a leg over it, seating himself comfortably in the saddle. The bike was suddenly about ten times as attractive as it had been, a moment before. "Hop on, Bear."

"What?"

Hal put on his helmet and offered another to Barry. "Hop on!" Hal turned the beast on and revved the engine.

"Can't we just walk?" Barry accepted the helmet, even as he asked.

"Don't be a wuss, Allen," Hal said.

"I just think that there's plenty of places in easy walking distance, is all," Barry said. Even as he spoke, though, he edged over to the bike and sat behind Hal on the bike. Though he sat a bit closer than he'd meant to, then double-guessed himself enough that he didn't know if scooching back a few more inches would be weird or not.

He put the helmet on, to hopefully avoid looking too much like he was second-guessing himself (again).

The bike was new. Not like… new-new. But new enough that Barry had only heard of it before Hal was called off-planet, again, and Barry hadn't actually seen it before. And Hal had to have flown the stupid bike up from Coast in order to have it in Central, but Barry couldn't particularly blame him. He was off-planet enough that he probably just wanted to use the bike whenever possible. And how hard was it for a Green Lantern to transport one motorcycle from California to Missouri, anyway?

The problem with the bike was it's lack of passenger handles.

"Uh, how's I supposed to, you know…?"

Hal straightened, releasing the handlebars or the bike, and glanced over his shoulder at Barry, eyebrow raised.

"How do I hold on? I mean, what do I hold onto?"

"Uh. Me?" Hal gave him a mildly puzzled smile. "Safest way's holding onto me by my waist or hips, or going full bear-hug. And you know me; I don't care how you do. So, whatever you're most comfortable with."

Which was. You know. Kind of obvious in hindsight. Barry had seen people on motorcycles before. And this holding-on wouldn't have been half so much of a problem, for Barry, even a few months, before. Before Barry had realized he had feelings for his best friend.

It was actually Hal's last weeks-long stint in space that clued Barry into how thick his feelings had gotten. He'd been more and more wracked with guilt about it, ever since.

But it was a problem. Because feelings had Barry second-, third-, and fourth-guessing himself and what was appropriate.

Barry went through his second-, third-, and fourth-guessing, then put his hands hesitantly on Hal's waist. It seemed the most chaste.

Then, however, Hal hit the gas and his bike shot off. Not the smartest move when doing so happened right in front of a police department, honestly. But, in speeding up so suddenly, Hal made Barry's stomach lurch in the way it only did if he wasn't the one in charge of the high-speed vehicle. He reflexively leaned forward into Hal and wrapped his arms around Hal's torso, so that he wouldn't feel like he was about to fall off the back of Hal's bike. Sure, it wouldn't kill him, but it would be hella inconvenient, especially if anyone saw and he ended up needing to fake injuries and injury recovery.

Once he settled in and got used to Hal's driving (speeding, really), he processed that he was plastered against the back of Hal's aviator jacket. That sent his already rabbit-quick heartbeat into overdrive.

Hal wouldn’t be able to tell, what with his jacket and Barry’s sweater between them, and the speed of Barry’s heartbeat on any given normal day, but that didn’t make Barry feel less embarrassed about his reaction. This was his best friend! Even if he put aside his guilt over his emotional infidelity to Iris, Hal didn’t deserve to be made some kind of… object of affection for Barry, least of all without at least knowing that Barry was looking at him that way. (Barry really hoped that Hal didn’t know about Barry’s crush situation.)

“You good back there?!” Hal shouted over the wind.

“Fine!” Barry croaked back.

Hal laughed, then turned his attention back onto the road, fully.

–

By the time Hal pulled his bike up in front of the diner he’d apparently had in mind, the whole time, Barry had just about relaxed against Hal’s back. It hadn’t been a long ride, particularly, but Barry’s perception of time always seemed to stretch out, around his anxiety, so the mere fact that he kept double-thinking himself meant that he had, perceptually, more time to do so. And more time to talk himself down from being outright anxious around his best friend.

His best friend!

God, why did he have to suck in this particular way? Couldn’t he at least have tripped into a random crush on some stranger he’d never see again? At least, that way, he wouldn’t feel like he was betraying his two favourite people in the whole world, both. Not that only feeling as though he were betraying one of them would be much better – Iris would still deserve better than a husband with a wandering eye.

“Been here, before?” Hal motioned.

Barry glanced around. “Uh. No? I don’t think so.” It was just a little family place. Cozy, clean, probably had a very small, day-of-the-week type menu that was packed with comfort foods.

“Oh, nice,” Hal beamed at him. “I’ve managed to find one of the few Central City food establishments that the Flash, himself, with his endless stomach, hollow leg, and insane metabolism, hasn’t actually been to, yet?” He elbowed Barry a few times, grinning that crooked smile of his.

God, Barry wanted to kiss him.

Barry ducked his head, to avoid followthrough of that impulse, but couldn’t avoid the grin that spread across his face. “I guess so.”

“That was the goal,” Hal said. He didn’t let Barry follow that up with questions, though, as he was immediately on the move, once more, headed for the diner’s front door.

“Goal?” Barry tried anyway.

“Yeah, goal,” Hal pulled the door open. “After you, Gorgeous.”

Barry tripped over his own feet, but managed to avoid falling flat on his face. He went bright red – to the sound of Hal’s laughter – and stepped inside. He didn’t manage to push the flush down, so he just stood there, making a face.

“You’re so easy,” Hal clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

And that just made it worse.

“Wording, Hal,” Barry said in a small, strangled voice.

“Oh, come on,” Hal scoffed. But he didn’t argue. Instead, he clapped Barry on the shoulder, once more, and stepped up to the waitress that had walked over to meet them. “Yo! Table for two. I called ahead—” he turned to Barry for a moment – “Had to make sure they’d be open n’ shit.” – then returned his attention to the waitress. “—I put a reservation under Jordan.”

The waitress – her nametag said Amara – smiled broadly at Hal, “Come with me, please,” she said.

She led them through the main dining room and into the next room. It was all practically filled, mostly families, and a thrum of low chatter followed them the whole while. The floors were all wood, brought to a high polish, and all the ceilings were comfortably high, with hanging lights that were neither cheap nor ostentatious. There were booths with benches and tables and chairs that were all mismatched sets – though all the chairs at a given table were matched to each other.

Amara led them all the way to a far corner of the further dining room. It was a cozy little corner booth, more private than most of the other tables in the diner. Which, of course, Barry’s dumb heart did a little jump at, seeing the privacy and placement of their table as “romantic.” It wasn’t romantic, though. It was just a corner booth.

A cozy little corner booth.

With high-backed benches that made it feel that much more separate from the rest of the room.

Hal motioned to the bench that sat up against the wall, then slid into the other side of the booth.

Barry slid in, oddly touched that Hal was giving him the seat from which he could see most of the room from – he always felt a bit less antsy when he didn’t have his back to people. And, really, he was always touched when someone offered him the seat from which he could see most of the room. He was only “oddly touched” in that he actually felt a bit like he was about to melt on the spot, which was a bit much, really.

(3159 ^)

The waitress returned a few minutes after seating them (it was still Amara) for their drink orders. She pulled out her order pad and clicked her pen open. "Do you gentlemen know what you would like to drink?"

"Actually, we're ready to order," Hal shot her a blinding smile.

"We are?" Barry asked.

"Sure we are, Bear," Hal turned the blinding smile onto him, then back onto Amara.

Barry's heart was beating hard inside his chest. Too hard.

God, what was Hal doing to him? And how could Barry make it stop? (Did he even want it to stop?)

"No problem," Amara grinned. "What can I get for you?"

Hal gathered up his and Barry's paper menus and handed them to Amara. "I'll have a black coffee, he'll have an orange juice, with ice, if you don't mind." He gave a fond eye roll and glanced at Barry out the corner of his eye. "Orange juice with ice. Ridiculous."

Barry was just having a bit of a moment over Hal knowing what drink to order for him. Not like it was anything special. But—still. Barry gave him a hesitant smile.

"Okay. What can I get you two to eat?" Amara asked. She tucked the paper menus under her arm and returned the tip of her pen to the pad of paper.

Hal turned back to their waitress. "We'll have one of everything."

Amara blinked down at her pad of paper, then at Hal. "Pardon?" her smile just turned a bit more amused, so Barry didn't feel like she was judging them.

Barry, though, felt his jaw drop as he looked at the side of Hal's face. Lunch was on Hal, after all. One of everything was. Well. It was a lot.

"One of everything from appetizers and courses," Hal clarified. "Hell, desserts too. No black olives or cilantro in anything, though. Yeah? Cool. Thanks."

"Alrighty," Amara scribbled that down, eyebrows raised, then glanced back at Hal again. "Will that be all?"

"No," Hal said.

"No?" Barry asked.

Hal laughed and tossed him a wink. When he spoke, though, it was still to Amara. "I've heard great things about your milkshakes and floats. So let's have one of each of those, too. Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry shakes; root beer and orange soda floats. That will be all."

"Alrighty then," Amara smiled at Hal, "I'll have your drinks right out, then the appetizers a bit after that, if that's alright?"

"Absolutely." 

Amara flipped her order pad closed and walked away from them.

Hal turned to beam at Barry.

"Hal, you don't have to spend that much on me—" Barry started.

"Uh, yeah? But I want to and I've got the money for it. You can just sit there and look pretty, Bear. Okay? I picked the venue, I ordered the food, I'm paying the bill." Hal settled back, pleased with himself.

Barry felt his cheeks heating up at "look pretty," but soldiered on. "But why?"

"Umm… why not?" Hal raised an eyebrow. "It's been ages since I saw you last, dude. Am I suddenly not allowed to spoil my best friend or something? Because that would suck. You know how I like buying you shit."

Barry had not known that, no.

–

Sometime between appetizers and actual lunch being brought to their table, Barry loosened up. He stopped worrying so much about what tells he might be displaying, how obvious he was being. Hal was just Hal, and it stopped mattering whether or not Barry had a secret crush on him.

Hal always did have that way about him, the one that had Barry relaxing around him, until he almost couldn’t remember why he would have been anything but relaxed – whether that “anything but relaxed” was fear, worry, anger, sadness, or something else. It was part of Hal’s charm, and probably part of why Barry was so heels-over-head for him. A large part of it.

The rest of lunch was easy between them, lots of laughter and no more of Barry’s hung head and guilty eyes. Barry even managed to laugh it off when their waitress told them that he and Hal were “cute together.” (It didn’t occur to Barry until a lot later that neither he nor Hal actually denied that they were together.)

Barry continued to feel just fine about things right up through the ride back to work, after Hal dropped him back off at the police station. Like, not even Barry plastering himself across Hal’s back on the return ride to the station had Barry feeling bad about anything – I mean, it was Hal’s driving that caused him to cling so close, anyway, and there wasn’t anything inherently beyond friendship about holding on tightly when your friend didn’t slow down while taking corners. (Jesus Christ, Hal, corners weren’t meant to be taken at forty-five miles an hour…!)

It was a joke that brought his mood back down.

A newer officer, just thinking he was funny, asked Barry, “Hey, does the Missus know about your secret boyfriend?”

There were groans and scoldings from the surrounding officers, but the joke was enough to make Barry’s smile and mood both plummet into something much moodier. He forced a smile and laugh – it wasn’t convincing – and made a quick retreat, so that no one would see the sting that had actually resulted from the joke.

It wasn’t as though Barry were hiding Hal from Iris. But he was definitely hiding his feelings for Hal from Iris. And from Hal. And from everyone else. (He was always told that he was a bad actor, though, so he was kind of worried about how obvious he was being.)

Barry buried himself in his work, including all the reports he was late on turning in, and tried not to think about it.

It was just a joke, right? He didn’t need to respond to it like—

Whatever.

Barry was almost settled back into something more neutral, mood-wise, when he realized that Hal would also be picking him up for the League meeting, later. That meant facing the object of his affections, again, and hoping that Hal wouldn’t see through him. He was lucky Hal didn’t look too deep, honestly. He was luckier, though, that Iris – investigative reporter that she was – hadn’t seen through him or asked questions.

It was probably a matter of time before someone saw through him. It would probably be Iris.

(Oh, god. Or worse: it could be Batman to see through him. How would he even explain any of that to Batman? Or any of the Triumvirate? Those were basically the League’s bosses – inasmuch that the League even had bosses. He didn’t want to awkwardly explain that it wasn’t a workplace romance or something. Or try to defend himself. God – would he have to ask Batman not to tell the others?)

Christ, Barry. Calm down, Barry told himself. You’re definitely being fatalist, here. Batman doesn’t even care enough about Leaguers’ personal lives to poke his nose in it. He wouldn’t say anything.

Come to think of it, romance and relationships (not that Barry was dealing with either) was probably two of the things that Batman wasn’t awesome at. Batman always seemed remarkably tonedeaf, when it came to anything social or interpersonal, and either that was because he was bad at it, or because he was purposely ignoring and avoiding stuff like that. The former was probably more likely.

“Barry!”

Barry jumped and swung around, wide-eyed.

Joe rolled his eyes.

Joe – Iris’s dad, Joe – someone who would definitely be pissed if he ever learned that Barry were anything less than completely devoted to Iris—

“You good?” Joe asked in an unimpressed deadpan.

“Fine! Yeah.”

“Work day’s over. You’re out of overtime, so Singh wants you out with everyone else. You know how underfunded we are. We can’t afford double overtime for a time-blind forensic analyst,” Joe said. His lips quirked into a smile, equal parts tired and amused.

“What?” Barry swung around to look at the clock. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go, huh?”

“I have to finish—”

“It’ll keep, Barry,” Joe interrupted.

“I’m already behind—”

“Another day won’t kill anyone,” Joe interrupted, again. It wasn’t to be rude, really. Joe, having raised Barry through adulthood, just knew that Barry was liable to get into a ramble if allowed, which some people would give into, if only to get him to stop. Barry was, naturally, much worse about the rambling after the whole “lightning strike” and “Speed Force” things.

Barry puffed out his cheeks, very maturely, then shucked off his lab coat again. “Okay, fine.”

“I’d tell you not to come in early tomorrow, to try and finish those reports, but I suppose that’s not really a risk, is it?”

“Ha-ha,” Barry deadpanned.

Joe grinned at him, then turned and walked out.

Barry, still very maturely, stuck his tongue out at Joe’s retreating back. He gathered his things and headed out, shortly behind Joe.

Outside the station, Joe was waiting on the sidewalk. Barry thought for a moment that Joe was making sure that Barry was actually right behind him, then he noticed that Joe was talking with someone. Hal, actually. (Hal’s laugh was always immediately identifiable for Barry, and Joe had apparently said something funny.)

“Oh, shoot,” Barry slapped a hand to his forehead.

“Did you forget I was your ride to the meeting?” Hal asked, grinning.

“No,” Barry said.

“Convincing,” Hal’s grin widened a bit. He turned back to Joe. “Thanks for the advice, sir. I’m not sure it’s gonna help much, in the short term, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

Joe rolled his eyes, almost fondly – what was that about? – and turned to walk down the sidewalk, to the corner of the station, then turned that corner out of view.

“What were you two talking about?” Barry asked, pulling his eyes away from the corner that Joe had turned around. He met Hal’s eyes for a moment, but they were too warm and brown and made Barry feel a touch too “seen,” so he turned away, again, taking in the whole of the street, and then one of the nearer cracks in the sidewalk. He didn’t know where he ought to look, or if he was being weirder than usual.

“I heard Iris sent along a kiss,” Hal said, instead of answering his question.

Barry’s gaze snapped back up. “What?’

“I’m hurt, Bear,” Hal said, very clearly not hurt. He put his hands over his heart and leaned back in a dramatic pantomime of pain. “You didn’t pass along her kiss? Damn, you really can be selfish, man, keeping her kiss all for yourself.”

Barry laughed, almost without meaning to. “Hal, she’s my wife.”

“Yes, but she said that she sent along a kiss that you were supposed to give me.”

“Why would she say that, though?” Barry felt himself going warm and red. And it was, of course, very obvious. Barry was just too white not to have an obvious blush. “I mean, why is she talking to you about-about kissing? Should I be worried?” he felt all flustered, and then guilty when he realized that he may have just implied that Iris were showing a stripe of infidelity, which she absolutely wasn’t. But which Barry was, every time he got lost in Hal’s eyes or glanced at Hal’s mouth or felt his heart leap into his throat because Hal was nearby…

“She called me, of course,” Hal scoffed. “She wanted to know if you were brave or not. I asked her, ‘How so,’ you know, as you do. And she said, ‘I gave him a kiss for you and, if he’s brave, he’ll pass it on. I wanted to know if he passed it on.’”

Barry hid his very, very warm face in his hands. “Ie, why,” he muttered.

Hal laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to trick you into kissing me or nothing. But, damn, you didn’t think she’d follow her dare up?”

“I didn’t think she was being serious!”

“I don’t think she was, babe,” Hal patted him consolingly on the shoulder. The “babe” didn’t go over Barry’s head, or help with how red he was. “But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t see if you’d done it for her own amusement. C’mon, she’s got a trickster streak a mile wide in her. You know that.”

Barry took a deep breath and dropped his hands from his face, “Yeah, I know,” he said.

Hal threw an arm around Barry’s shoulder, pulled him in, and leaned in to plant a kiss on Barry’s temple.

“What’s that for?” Barry spluttered.

“Iris bet me I wasn’t man enough to plant one on you, too,” Hal grinned. “So I did.”

“Right,” Barry glared at him weakly, his heart doing something acrobatic and annoying in his chest. “I can’t say that’s ‘planting one on me,’ but I don’t know what you’d do if I argued that.”

Hal waggled his eyebrows, unselfconsciously. “Looking for some of the old Jordan charm?”

“No,” Barry snorted. They both pretended that Barry didn’t belay his own denial by turning, somehow, even redder than he had been. He couldn’t help it, in the moment, especially when he was already off-kilter after Iris telling Hal about the kiss, and Hal kissing him, however innocently, because Iris had basically dared him to.

The worst part was that Iris was probably just trying to be funny about everything. She probably didn’t realize how affected Barry was. How much Hal affected him.

–

Barry arrived home after a League Meeting and a stint of Monitor Duty.

He hadn’t paid any attention during the meeting, too busy with his maladaptive daydreaming to think about anything that wasn’t already inside his own skull, and he was lucky that Monitor Duty had gone by with a relative lack of disturbances, compared to the usual Monitor shift. Hal had given him a brief rundown of the meeting, which was normal enough that Barry didn’t feel too embarrassed about it, but he really couldn’t be zoning out like that in the middle of League business. It wasn’t professional. In any other League-adjacent situation, it probably wasn’t safe, either.

And the subject of his daydreaming – the conversations he either needed to have or should have with Iris or Hal or both – weren’t even fun topics to be stuck on. It was just… sometimes, Barry couldn’t help the absent, almost comparing thoughts about Hal and Iris.

Iris had a way of focusing Barry, helping him see past all the things he couldn’t figure out how to order – which things were actually priorities. She knew how to cut through Barry’s habit of putting everything at the same level of priority, pointing out the most important things or telling him which things he could forget until later. Barry wasn’t sure how he managed before her, sometimes. Talking with Iris always left Barry feeling like he actually had his head on straight and his priorities in order.

Hal had a way of soothing Barry, of helping him see how things weren’t as bad as he thought. Barry had a way of taking on all his failings and stacking them up behind his smile, pretending he wasn’t thinking about them when he was doing other things – when he was trying to make up for the people he hadn’t been able to help, specifically. Hal was able to unstack those hurts, a bit, talking Barry around to something a bit more understanding, toward his past self.

Granted, Hal also had a way of riling Barry up and being the most frustrating person in a hundred-mile radius, too.

Barry would give anything to be able to keep both Iris and Hal beside him. He knew that much. It was just that he’d always thought that meant having Iris beside him as his wife and Hal beside him as his best friend, not whatever he had going on inside the knotted tangle of emotions in his heart, lately. Not this growing affection for Hal, who didn’t deserve to be the unwitting object of Barry’s desire, and certainly not his emotional infidelity to Iris—

Whatever.

Barry closed the front door behind himself and leaned up against it, sighing.

“That you, hon?” Iris called.

Barry sagged against the door, this time in dread. He mentally went over the day – faster than a normal person would have ever been able to, and definitely faster than a normal person would have been able to while still processing everything that happened – and came to the conclusion that he really did have to fess up with Iris. Tell her about his guilty secret crush on Hal.

It would make everything awkward, for sure. Iris would probably be mad – maybe even need some time alone, away from him – but it just wasn’t fair of Barry to keep going on as they were. Lies by omission were still lies, and Iris deserved to know what was going on inside of Barry’s head, especially when the things going on inside his head ran counter to the promises that he’d made to Iris on their wedding day.

“Hon?” Iris walked around the corner, out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish cloth. She raised an eyebrow at Barry. “Why aren’t you answering, Bear?”

“Sorry, just. A lot of things on my mind—can we, I mean, can we talk? Ie?”

“That’s the plan for tonight, Hero,” Iris said. “C’mon, I made spaghetti and garlic bread.”

“You’re too good for me,” Barry said. Normally he meant it playfully. Today, he meant it seriously, with an undercurrent of sadness. Why couldn’t he just be a decent person for her? A decent, loving husband without a wandering eye.

He wasn’t even a decent friend, was he? Not with the way he kept eyeing Hal, with Hal none the wiser.

Iris frowned at him, slapped the dish towel onto her shoulder, and propped her hands onto her hips. “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

Barry looked at her, wide-eyed and feeling caught. He’d said stuff like that before, hadn’t he? He didn’t know what she was hearing, or how she’d seen through him so fast, but it brought the rabbit-quick flush of anxiety all through his system. “Ie—it’s just—”

“No, the tone. What do you mean by that tone, Barry?” her brow furrowed a bit more seriously.

“We just. We need to talk, Ie. I’ve—I need to tell you something. I should have told you when it started, but I. I don’t know, Ie.” His words came out soft, pleading, like he was asking for forgiveness. He wasn’t though. He didn’t think he had a right to ask that of Iris, bot after months of this. “I was scared. It’s a bad excuse, but—”

“Is this about Hal?” Iris cut in.

Barry flinched as if Iris had slapped him. She hadn’t, of course. She was standing more than an arm’s length away. But Barry hadn’t expected her to know. Had she been waiting for him to admit to it? For him to fess up? God, he really was the worst, wasn’t he?

“Barry,” Iris said, a lot softer. She crossed her arms, frowning. She didn’t look mad, though. She didn’t even look disappointed. She looked worried.

“I’m sorry,” Barry managed.

“It is,” Iris sighed. “Shoot. Barry, hon. It’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” Barry managed. “I didn’t mean to cheat, Ie. But I—”

“Cheat?” Iris raised her eyebrows, amused. “Barry, sweetie.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You didn’t cheat, Barry. I don’t think you could, even if you wanted to. If anything, you probably stewed in your emotions, wishing you could do something but not knowing what to do.”

“Iris, I-I-I’ve been thinking about him . All the time,” Barry said. COnfusion was beginning to wash over him. “That’s. I don’t have to sleep with someone for it to be cheating—”

“No, but I know for a fact that you haven’t done anything remotely like cheating. You haven’t stopped loving me, for one thing. And you’ve certainly not stopped treating me right.”

“Ie, I’ve betrayed my vows to you—”

“Sweetie,” Iris gave him a pitying look. “Hon, have you kissed anyone, romantically, besides me?”

“Um. No?”

“And you haven’t gone on any romantic excursions. Or slept with anyone. You’ve even managed to hold so tight to the spirit of your bows that you’re here, now, telling me that you’ve betrayed those vows, that you’ve cheated on me. Why? Because you realized you’d fallen in love with Hal, somewhere along the way?”

Barry winced. That exactly. He hadn’t expected her to know. “I’m so sorry, Ie—”

“Barry,” Iris scowled at him. “The only thing you’re doing wrong, here, is acting like an idiot.”

“What?”

“This is where we talk about how to accommodate your polyromanticism, not where you insist that you’re cheating on me because you can’t help falling in love with someone else. I mean. Do you love me any less, Bear?” Iris asked.

“Polyromanticism?”

“Do you still love me, Barry?” Iris demanded.

“Yes?”

“Do you love me any less than the day we married?”

“No!” Barry looked at her, aghast at the very thought. If anything, he loved her a bit more every day. It was why he felt so bad about the whole thing. It wasn’t like he was falling out of love with one person and in love with another – he wasn’t able to step away from Iris. His heart would shatter if he had to let her go, and that was the worst part. He was being a greedy, selfish, awful person, not even letting Iris find someone who was more worthy of her love—

“See? No broken vows.”

“But. I.” Barry motioned vaguely.

“Come on, let’s have some spaghetti. We can talk more in the kitchen.” Iris turned on her heel and walked back around the corner, out of view.

Barry, flummoxed, could only follow her and take a seat at their little kitchen table.

Iris slid a huge plate of spaghetti in front of him, then placed a much more reasonably sized plate of spaghetti in front of her seat. She sat down, still frowning a little – but more like she was solving a puzzle than anything else. “So,” she said.

Barry twirled his fork despondently in the pasta. It was a sad shame, really. Spaghetti had to be one of his absolute favourite foods. Not least because you could make a shit-ton of spaghetti at a time, without sacrificing the overall quality of the dish. If only his stomach wasn’t clenched around his own self-disappointment.

“Have you heard of polyamory, Bear?” Iris asked.

Bear frowned up at her. I mean, of course he had? “Yeah, like Kaldur, Garth, and Tula,” he said. “They’re, you know. All together. That’s polyamory, right?”

“Yeah. I figure it this way – because I’m not really poly and it’s a bit harder for me to conceptualize, you know? – polyamory is when someone has a heart that’s big enough to hold more than one person in it. It’s when you have so much love that you can’t fit it neatly in a monogamous box. That’s what it felt like when Tula and Garth folded Kaldur into their relationship, you know? Tula and Garth had that much extra heart-space, and Kaldur was already very obviously desperately in love with both of them.”

“I’m not… very familiar with their relationship,” Barry shrugged.

“But it’s wholesome, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah,” Barry gave Iris a weak shrug. “I don’t know what it has to do with anything, Iris.”

Iris gave him a long, considering look. “Eat, hon,” she said.

Barry reluctantly took a bite of the spaghetti, chewing it very slowly before he swallowed. He didn’t see how his eating would make anything better, honestly. If anything, it just opened the door to the annoyance of one talking with their mouth full.

“You have such a big heart, Barry,” Iris said softly.

Lot of good having a big heart did him, if he was going to be emotionally disloyal to the most perfect woman he’d ever met in his life. He grimaced a bit, trying to smile at the compliment.

Iris covered a snort behind her fork-hand. “You do,” she insisted. “So big.” She dropped her fork-hand and started to absently twirl her own spaghetti onto the tines of her fork. “Such a big heart. You’ve always had so, so, so much love to give. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of, Barry. I… honestly didn’t realize you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know what you mean?” Barry said. He had an inkling, but the inkling was remaining stubbornly elusive, almost like Barry didn’t actually want to understand what Iris was saying.

“You love me,” Iris said.

“With all my heart,” Barry said, automatically. Then winced, because the whole ‘Hal’ thing probably meant that he didn’t actually love her with his whole heart. And that sucked.

“You do,” Iris agreed, firmly. “But you also love Hal.”

“He’s my best friend,” Barry said.

“You love him,” Iris pressed. “Come on, Bear. I’ve seen the googly eyes you make at him when he’s not looking. I’ve heard the sighs. I’ve seen the way you get when you haven’t heard from him in a while, or when he does something stupid, or when he get’s hurt. You love him so much it’s started to hurt you – I just didn’t realize that it hurt because you thought it meant you were cheating on me.”

“But… I am, aren’t I?”

“I know you don’t mean to be polyphobic, hon. But that’s what’s happening here.” She reached across to pat the back of his hand. “You’re accepting of everyone but yourself.”

“Wait—”

“You’re polyromantic, Bear.”

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to be subtle about it. Make hints, give nudges. I thought maybe by being positive and playful about you and Hal, you’d understand that I don’t judge you, that I support you. I thought maybe that’s what you needed, so that you’d feel safe coming to me with it,” Iris’s shoulders dropped a bit. “I guess I didn’t think… you didn’t know, yourself, that it was okay.”

“I’m not poly, Ie,” Barry said.

“You really, really are,” Iris disagreed. “I just don’t think it’s occurred to you, yet. Which is why you think your feelings are some kind of proof of betrayal or something. Betrayal, though? That’s if you went out and slept with someone. Or started dating someone else behind my back. It’s not just… falling in love, you know? That’s not something you have control over. I mean, some control maybe? But I don’t think falling in love constitutes matrimonial betrayal. Especially not when it’s you best friend.”

Barry rubbed his hands over his face. “So… you’re not mad?” he asked.

“I think you deserve all the love in the world, Bear. I think your heart is big enough to love me, without reservation, and to love Hal as well. I don’t know, maybe you have enough heart in there for three people. Maybe four. I’m sure it’s different, person-to-person. But right now? Right now, I know it’s me and it’s Hal.”

Barry took another bite of spaghetti. Probably a larger bite than necessary.

“I think it would be nice, you know,” Iris said. She waited until Barry – still very nervous – met her eyes. “I think it would be nice,” she said more quietly, “if he were part of this.” She motioned to them, the space between them, the house as a whole.

Barry frowned slowly.

Like. What if it messed everything up, though? What if Iris thought she meant that, but then realized, later, that she didn’t really mean it like that? What if she ended up feeling left out and neglected if Barry started to date Hal, after already being married to Iris?

But that was getting ahead of himself.

Asking Hal to date him? Really?! Where had that come from? He felt a lump of fear take over the entirety of his throat at the idea of admitting to Hal that he felt like that, at all. Much less asking Hal to… to…!

Hal probably wouldn’t like that at all. He’d probably—he’d probably hate Barry if he learned how his best friend had been looking at him, for all those months. Years, even? Barry’d lost count. And he’d also behind on the take, barely understanding the new turns of his own emotions, whether they involved Hal or not. (Iris had proposed to Barry for a reason, after all, and the reason was that Barry was a bit slower on the emotional uptake – she’d known, before he had, that they were ready for that step.)

So, no. He couldn’t do that to Hal. It was bad enough that he’d kept it from Iris for so long. She could be amazing and perfect and understanding all she liked, but Barry still knew – deep down – that it had been awful of him to do anything like that to her. That he hadn’t been honest, forthright, or deserving of her patience or her understanding. He should have told her!

He shouldn’t have looked at Hal with those roiling, new emotions, either. Much less over and over again.

God. He was awful.

Awful husband, awful friend—

“—rry! Barry!”

A shake on Barry’s arm brought him sluggishly back into the present, speeding back up so that he was considering time at the appropriate speed, once more. He blinked a few times, then turned his head to look at Iris.

Her gorgeous green eyes were wide with fear as she knelt beside his chair, both of her hands curled into his sweater sleeve. She was wound tight, tense and scared. She looked a few heartbeats away from calling 9-1-1 or something. Or the Justice League.

She was so scared.

“Ie?”

“Barry!” Iris’s expression shifted immediately to anger. “You scared the shit out of me!” She got back to her feet and swatted at his shoulder. “Jesus, Bear! I know this is hard for you to parse, but that’s no reason to go into—god, I can’t remember what you call that. Flash Time?”

“Something like that,” Barry blinked up at her.

“Listen. I think you should talk to Hal – don’t you dare zone back into that separate perception of time, Barry, I swear to god I’ll call Batman, next time – but you should talk to Hal about this. You should see if he has feelings for you,” Iris said. She scowled down at Barry, though not nearly enough to hide her lingering concern.

“I’m sorry, Ie,” Barry said.

“I know, Bear. I just—” Iris scrubbed her own hands over her face. “I don’t know what to do, sometimes, is all. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t freak out on you like that. Not for what amounts to a speedster anxiety attack.”

“I… don’t know if I’d call it that.”

“Which doesn’t matter, right now,” Iris waved him off, then plopped herself back into her seat. “Look. I’ve been talking to Hal. We’ve been talking, that is. I think. I mean, no. I know he knows you’re polyamorous, Barry.”

Barry felt the stricken expression cross his features, and he couldn’t quite smooth it out before Iris noticed.

“Oh, you’re not as subtle as you think, Bear. But I’ve talked to him. We’ve talked about you, hon. Not like that, don’t worry about that. I’m not dictating your love life, here. He was just—I don’t know. He’s a good man, even if he’s a bit shit about expressing it. He told me some things, in confidence.”

“Should I be worried?” Barry laughed, weakly. His spaghetti was practically cold.

“No. It’s not at all like that, Bear. It was about Hal, not you,” Iris said gently. “He wanted to know if I wanted him to stay away from my husband, you know? And told me, blunt like he tends to be sometimes, about the reasons he thought I might want him to do that.”

“And you told him no?”

“I told him about the diner I knew you hadn’t been to, yet,” Iris said, tipping her hand of how recently the conversation with Hal must have been.

“Oh,” Barry flushed. That had felt so much like a date. It was part of why he felt like he needed to talk to Iris – to admit how horrible he’d been to her, behind her back. No, he hadn’t slept around or anything, but it felt… it felt wrong. If only because she hadn’t known.

But she had known, apparently.

Barry felt… a lot less like an awful cheater, knowing that she knew about the diner. “You tried to get me to kiss him,” he said, trying to make it a joke. Make it funny.

“Kiss on the cheek wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Iris shrugged.

“Do you… like Hal?” Barry asked. There was the weirdest moment of backwards jealousy, deep in his gut, thinking about Iris liking Hal that way. That was ridiculous, though. Barry liked both of them, a lot more than he felt he should. It didn’t make any sense that he should feel jealous over Iris perhaps feeling the same way about Hal.

“I mean, sure I like him. But not like that,” Iris’s smile went crooked and understanding. She was so smart. A bit of a smart ass, really.

(Like, yeah Barry was complimenting the heck out of her, lately. Yeah, he was possibly even going overboard with it. But, really, he thought her imperfections nicely complemented the perfections, too. He loved the flaws she had, almost as much as he loved her good qualities. Her smart-assery was probably a flaw, come to think of it, but it was also one of Barry’s favourite things about her.)

“No?” Barry asked.

“Nah. I like him in strictly a platonic sense. I think he’s a nice guy. I dunno, he’s got kind eyes? Underneath all that bullshit and bluster, anyway.” Iris leaned back in her seat. “I could see being real close to him, I suppose. And, if he were part of this,” she motioned between them again, “if he were part of us , I might even be able to learn to love him, properly, someday. I dunno. What I do know is that I don’t have to love him romantically to accept him into our relationship, though, Bear.”

This was nothing like how Barry thought the conversation was going to go.

Iris sighed. “I should have talked to you a lot sooner,” she said. “I’m sorry, Bear. This has been hard, hasn’t it?”

Barry shrugged. “I mean. I don’t know about hard? I just. It’s been not great, recently, with how I haven’t been able to curb my feelings and—you’re so important to me, Ie. I shouldn’t have held all this in. I should have been able to stop, when I noticed—”

“Hey, no, none of that,” Iris frowned at him. “None of that, Bear. For the last time, you haven’t done anything wrong. I know it’s hard for you to believe it, especially when you’re right in the thick of it. But, listen: you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve gone above and beyond to be the best husband you could possibly be, all the while feeling like you were falling short! If there’s anyone that this situation hasn’t been fair to, it’s you.”

“What about Hal? He doesn’t deserve for me to be looking at him the way I’ve been looking at him, not without at least knowing that it’s happening! God, what if he hates me, Ie?” Barry pushed his hands through his hair. “I don’t wanna lose him.”

“Bear,” Iris sighed.

“I can’t tell him any of this, Ie—”

“Bear,” Iris said, a bit louder and a bit more insistently.

“I really don’t know what I’d do if we stopped being friends. How would I even be able to stay on the League if we weren’t friends? Ie, what if he went back to Oa for distance and I just straight up didn’t see him for months?” Barry looked at Iris with wide eyes, full of all sorts of bad-ending type scenarios.

“Bear, sweetie. You need to calm down,” Iris soothed.

“When you’re telling me that I should tell Hal about this? That I should bear my soul to him?” Barry asked. He gave a small, short, desperate-sounding laugh and looked off to one side.

“Barry,” Iris sighed. “Look. He won’t hate you. I don’t know why you’d even think that of him—”

Barry winced.

Yeah, he—yeah, that was unworthy of him. He shouldn’t give Hal so little credit. It was definitely one of Barry’s bigger fears, but he should have known better—

“No, don’t start spiraling down that new path, Barry,” Iris said. “Listen. Hal likes you, a lot. I know he does. And, frankly, I know he always has. And I’ve known it for a long time. I used to feel a bit bad about it, in fact, because it’s like—it’s not that Hal or I were much different, really, with our relationships with you, I just got to you first and held on tight. And Hal respected that, with as much snide grace as he could.”

“What?”

“He’s liked you for years, Barry. And I guess you’re hard to get over, because he still looks at you the same way, and his flings never last very long, besides.”

“Well, he’s off in space—”

“Barry, let’s not turn this into another game of excuses and explanations, okay? He likes you. You can take my word to the bank on that. You should talk to him. Then you should either invite him on a proper date or give him a proper kiss, because it’s a long time in coming, and I’m not so selfish that I’m going to tell you that you can’t be in love with anyone but me, you know?”

“Iris,” Barry sighed, running his hands through his hair again. “I’ve been really awful about keeping my feelings respectable and. And I would understand if you were mad about it.”

“What’s not respectable about being in love with more than one person, Barry?”

Iris had him there.

Barry opened and closed his mouth a few times, then bit his lip, trying to think of something that didn’t just sound like excuses. Or polyphobia. It was just that… Barry didn’t think that he was actually polyromantic, necessarily. It was an option, but the other options didn’t just stop being options just because they didn’t reflect as well on him, right? There was still a chance he was just a horrible person indulging in a season of emotional infidelity—

“Barry, come back to me,” Iris snapped her finger – she didn’t do that often, being that she hated the “snapping fingers” noise, herself. “Listen. You love me. I know you love me. And I know you won’t love me any less when you acknowledge that you have more than enough heart to include Hal in everything. And you won’t love him any less, while loving me, either. It’s not unfair to either of us, especially if everything is in the open. All we have to do is be adults and communicate, so that we all know what we do and don’t want; what we should expect from each other, or what shouldn’t expect.”

“I just. I’m not sure.”

“Well,” Iris gave him a soft, amused smile. Amused, but still understanding and kind. “I’m not saying you should go and call Hal up right now or anything. You can take all the time you need, to think. And I’m sorry about the pushing I’ve been doing – it must have felt like the universe committing cruel pranks, huh? I won’t do that anymore, I promise.”

“Ie, you haven’t done anything wrong—”

“Teasing you, when I knew something that you hadn’t figured out yet, was wrong,” Iris interrupted. “We both know I’m no paragon, right? I’m perfectly happy owning up to the mistake, Bear. And it’s okay to let me.”

Barry started to disagree, then deflated – though with some measure of relief rushing through him – and smiled. “I suppose.”

“Okay. Your spaghetti’s probably cold. Dig in. We can always talk more about this, later, yeah?”

Barry nodded. “Yeah.”

–

Barry thought about things.

He thought about them too much, really.

Iris was, honestly, probably more chill with the idea of Barry being polyamorous than Barry, himself, was. Barry still felt a bit like a cheater of some kind – that wasn’t because he thought poly folks were cheaters or anything, Consensual Non-Manogamy, yeah? It wasn’t cheating because it was agreed-upon, something partners discussed and negotiated. Or… or something like that. Barry was still puzzling poly out, in general.

But he still felt like a cheater. He knew why – it was about how he was raised and socialized, the kinds of things his community accepted and didn’t accept, when he was growing up. He’d internalized the subtext of it all, and the subtext very strongly suggested that he was a bad person for not being “happy” with one partner.

Knowing why wasn’t very helpful, however.

It was a lot. And it was too much to undo in a day. Or a week. Maybe too much to undo in a year, even. But, since he saw how complete Iris was, in her acceptance of him and the way he loved (poly or no), he was giving it a conscious effort. It being “accepting himself.”

So yeah. He thought about things, and he thought about them probably too much.

He was pretty sure that Iris was right – that he should talk to Hal about things. Iris was usually right. It was just—

What if Hal hated him?

Iris said that Hal liked him, and had for since forever. And Iris wasn’t the type of person to be needlessly cruel, or to outright lie about things. She was also a good investigative reporter, with a nose for news. She was always weeding out truths, no matter how inconvenient they tended to be. Logically, that meant that she was probably right about Hal.

Logic and anxiety weren’t exactly pals, though, so Barry had a head full of “what ifs.” What if Hal was upset that Barry looked at him in nonplatonic ways? What if he was mad that Barry would want to see Hal, as in going on dates, when Barry was already married to Iris? What if Hal was disappointed? What if Hal wasn’t interested in the idea of being a metamour with Iris?

(Metamour was a fun new word for Barry – if Iris was in a relationship with Barry, and Hal was in a relationship with Barry, but Iris and Hal were not also in a relationship, then Iris and Hal would be metamours.)

On the other hand? Barry didn’t know what to do with the starburst of supernova heat that Iris had given him, in telling him about Hal’s apparent feelings. Like, not only was Iris not judging him for his feelings, but she was encouraging him. And he had a chance with Hal. It was too much, really.

Hal snapped his fingers a few times. “Bear, you actually in there, or what?” he asked.

Barry blinked a few times, then turned his gaze up, taking in Hal’s amused expression (and the underlying thread of concern). Barry tried to quash the sudden surge of embarrassment, but the sudden heat of his ears and cheekbones told him that he hadn’t quite achieved it.

“There you are,” Hal said, warm and fond. He shoved his hand back into his coat pocket. “I’m here to pick you up.”

“Pick me up?” Barry glanced around, at all the things he still had to do.

“Yep,” Hal said, solid and sure. “Your work day’s supposed to be over. Joe let me in and told me to get you out of here so that you didn’t mess with the hours sheets again.”

“I would never—!”

“Not leaving on time messes with the hours sheet,” Hal interrupted. “So you would, and you have, and you almost did. In fact, why don’t you go clock out so that I can be a proper man of my words to your foster pops. And father-in-law. Say, is that ever weird?”

Barry felt a bit more of a flush overtake his face as he stood and shucked his lab coat. “Weird?”

“Yeah, I mean. Growing up in his house, then marrying his daughter, even though you were foster siblings? Isn’t that ever weird? Not that I’m judging or anything, it just occurred to me that—yeah, no, forget it. I’m gonna shut up now,” Hal gave a sharp, self-conscious laugh. “That was rude.”

“I don’t mind,” Barry said quickly. “And, I mean, I already had a crush on her, before—um. Before, you know?” Before his mom had died, before his dad had been accused of the crime, before Barry’s world had ended. Before he’d been taken in by Joe West.

“Before,” Hal agreed, serious, even under his playful smile.

“And it never really went away? Which was weird. I mean. Before I went the emancipation route around seventeen. It was nothing against Joe, just the-the-the urge to do something more, I guess?”

“Yeah, you were a smart cookie. I can tell from what Iris has said about you, back then. Already had a bunch of community college stuff under your belt, right? When you emancipated yourself from Mr. West’s care?”

“Yeah. right,” Barry said. And… yeah. Iris had mentioned stuff like that; that Iris and Hal talked. Barry had already forgotten that. It was weird that they had interactions with each other when Barry wasn’t even around, didn’t even know what kinds of things they were saying, what stories they were sharing. He had no idea that Iris had told Hal stories about Barry, from before Hal and Barry even knew each other.

“I’m guessing you went away for colleging purposes, then came back and realized you never stopped liking Iris, huh?” Hal asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” Barry smiled, shrugging. “So, to answer your question – it’s a bit weird, sometimes. But it’s a lot more normal than I think some people would have you believe. There’s a thing, like, the opposite of romantic imprinting? It’s called the Westermarck Effect – it’s when, in growing up in close proximity someone, you grow averse to the idea of sexual relations with them—”

“Oh, he’s breaking out the big bad science words,” Hal stage-whispered to no one.

Barry snorted. “We didn’t have that, because we didn’t actually grow up together. I know there’s other circumstances that the Westermarck Effect probably covers, but that’s the most simplified version – you grow up from infancy or young childhood with someone and, because of that close bond, you don’t see each other as possibly partners, later on.”

“Big bad science words,” Hal nodded. He took Barry’s lab coat from him and placed it over a chair. “Go clock out, you can try to explain your science bullshit to me later.”

“It’s not—!”

“And you can explain to me how your sociological terms aren’t bullshit, too,” Hal butted in. He slapped Barry on the ass, but in that playful way that didn’t usually register as anything other than Hal being Hal. “Get moving.”

Unfortunately, Barry was thinking about things from an angle that was less platonic, and the slap, however platonically intended, gained a new implied meaning in the framework of Barry’s current preoccupations. He scurried to clock out, though, so that he could calm his brain and blush a bit, before facing Hal again.

Hal who was laughing at him. The bastard.

Hal was waiting near the exit by the time Barry finished clocking out. Barry would have preferred to do things fast when clocking out and leaving, but the presence of security cameras in the building meant that Barry couldn’t risk anything more than dubiously metahuman while at his day job. Which didn’t always stop him from being the centrifuge when he was in a rush.

“Ready?” Hal asked.

“Uh. Yeah? For what?”

“Food! I’m free, I’ve still got some pocket change, I’m gonna take my best friend out on the town!” Hal beamed at him. “I mean, Oa’s bound to call sooner, rather than later, so I figured I’d get at least one more day in, with you, before I head off to be on my lonesome for from anywhere between a few days to a few fucking months.” Hal lead them out the front door of the station, leaving the next shift of cops to their stuff.

If the other weekday forensic scientist of CCPD weren’t Wally, at the moment, Barry would wonder how he never seemed to run into the other forensic scientist, when Barry was ending his shift.

“I’m sure Kilowog would be a bit miffed that you’re not counting him in for company, by the sounds of it,” Barry snorted. He was starting to blush again, feeling even more like he was about to go out on a date with Hal than he had the last time that Hal had taken him out to lunch. “And what about Guy?” (Hal scoffed derisively.) “Or John? Kyle?”

“You rather underestimate how often the Green Lanterns of Sector Two-One-Eight-Four get together, for any amount of time. I mean. Earth isn’t the only thing in that sector, you know. And things keep us all busy. If it’s not an emergency, it’s playing beat cop for the entire sector, right?”

They arrived on the sidewalk. This time, Hal’s ride wasn’t parked right out front. Hal turned to the right, Barry just a beat or so behind him.

Barry skipped a step or two, to fall back into step with Hal. “And what, heading back to headquarters doesn’t account for anything? I can’t believe you’d be lonely just because you’re not on Earth.”

Hal tutted. “Well, that’s just a blatant misunderstanding, isn’t it?” he grinned at Barry. (He grinned down at Barry, specifically – he wasn’t that much taller, but it was enough of a height difference that it was immediately noticeable.) “I’m not lonely because I’m not on Earth, you goose. I’m lonely because I gotta leave you behind. And all my friends on Earth, sure. But like. You’re my best friend.” He shrugged, almost awkwardly. “Shit, this is getting a mite too touchy-feely.”

“Is it?” Barry asked.

“Yeah,” Hal said. He took Barry by the elbow and pulled him around the corner. Ah. There it was.

“Is that… a bad thing?” Barry hazarded. Maybe, if he could hold onto his guts for another minute or so, Barry could turn the “touchy-feely” conversation into a conversation about… maybe, possibly inviting Hal to try a relationship with Barry? Maybe?

“I mean, it’s not a bad thing. But sure gets awkward sometimes,” Hal shrugged. “I know, I know. It’s all about how we’re socialized. Ladies? They get away with the touchy-feely shit, and feel more comfortable doing it, because of the way they’re raised and what expectations society puts on them. Ladies are encouraged to be softer and shit. Men are expected to be the strong and silent type, and little boys – that grow up into adult men who aren’t in touch with their emotions – are discouraged from showing emotions, strongly encouraged to buck up, put their big boy boots on, man up, all that shit.”

Barry raised his eyebrows, accepting the passenger helmet to Hal’s bike when Hal shoved it at him. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything about that, but it’s good to be aware of how socialization shapes us and what lies it tells us.”

“Oh, for sure. And Iris ripped into me about it a few days ago, when we were talking.”

“You and Iris were talking?” Barry frowned a little. There was a weird little coal of jealousy in him, but quashed it, knowing that it was neither fair nor logical to be worried or jealous about Hal and Iris talking. “About socialization and how kids’re raised?”

“Sorta,” Hal said. “I mean, not like we were talking about anything of great importance. You don’t have to worry about either of us going round your back or anything—”

“No, no, it’s good you guys talk! I wouldn’t want to discourage my best friends from talking!” Barry said, quickly. And, he found, underneath that coal of jealousy, he really did feel that way. He liked that Iris and Hal talked, without Barry’s having to be there to encourage conversation between them.

“Well, it was nothing very important. It was mostly about whether or not she had dinner plans with you, tonight. I didn’t want to step on her toes, not even to take you out to dinner,” Hal flashed him a smile, then flicked down his helmet visor and sat on the bike. “We just happened to get around to talking about Wally, you know? And how long it took him n’ Rob to get together.”

Oh, that was a new thing. Barry kept forgetting it was even a thing, at all.

“Yeah, I mean. Those two’ve been in love for-fucking-ever,” Hal laughed.

“Have they?” Barry slid onto the back of the bike, hesitated, then slid forward and wrapped his arms around Hal proper. He already knew what Hal’s motorcycle driving was going to be like.

“Yeah, of course. And that’s probably why they don’t seem too different, even though the two of them are together now. They’ve never really not been in love. But like, we were talking about Wally, and how much damage Rudy’d done to him, just in how he raised Wally and what expectations he had. Wally’d spent most his adolescence thinking that his appreciation of the male form – a perfectly understandable appreciation, of course – was bad and unnatural. All kinds of bullshit! I’m glad you n’ Iris rook him in. He deserved a home with adults that he could trust, and who would support him through, like, anything.”

“I’m glad we took him in, too,” Barry said.

“Hold onto whatever other thoughts you’ve got, yeah? I’ll barely be able to hear you over the motor.” Hal revved the engine to punctuate his point.

“Okay.”

Hal nodded, almost to himself, and took off down the street, just as fast and terrifyingly as he had, the last time. Barry ended up holding him just as tight, too.

Barry almost wouldn’t be surprised if Hal was doing that on purpose.

Barry would have been just as unsurprised if Hal wasn’t doing it on purpose; if it were just in Hal’s personality to go as fast and take turns just as sharply as he possibly could.

–

“Dinner” ended up being a sampling from a selection of Barry’s favourite establishments, brought over to the waterfront to be had at one of the picnic tables there. It was cold as shit out, but that didn’t stop Hal and Barry from following through on the plan – Barry didn’t feel the cold too badly, for one, and Hal had his ever-present aviator jacket insulating him from the crisp windchill that blew out from the water.

Barry was between a taco and a burger – it really was a varied selection of foods – when he caught Hal smiling his way.

He felt a surge of anxiety and courage, all of a sudden, and decided that it was time for a pause in the meal. He honestly felt a bit like he was about to puke up a butterfly or something. Which was ridiculous. And scientifically impossible, even for metahumans.

Well. Most metahumans, anyway.

“So,” Barry said.

Hal raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong with the food?” he joked.

“I was just thinking,” Barry motioned at the water, the picnic table, all the food. “This is kinda romantic.”

“Bromantic,” Hal suggested.

“No, I mean. It’s sweet, Hal,” Barry gave him a crooked, nervous smile. “And it reminds me of some of the dates I’ve gone on with Iris—”

“It’s not meant to be a date,” Hal said quickly. “I’m not trying to steal you away from Iris or anything. She told me, like, it was fine to—I mean, it doesn’t really matter, it’s not supposed to be a date. Or… or like a date.” Hal straightened in his seat and looked off to the side, frowning. “Sorry, was this a bad idea?”

“No,” Barry said. He reached across the table and clasped Hal’s slightly colder hand in both of his. “No, not at all. It’s sweet, Hal! It’s amazing. And I’m gonna have to up my game with Iris, because my own date nights, with Iris, are slipping—”

“This isn’t a date, Bear, promise,” Hal tried to slide his hand away.

“Would… it be okay if I wanted it to be?” Barry asked.

Hal turned back to him, frowning a little. “I dunno. Would it?”

“Well, see, that’s the million-dollar question, lately,” Barry’s smiled straightened out a bit, a bit less nervous. “I just. I had this talk with Iris, the other day. She’s told me some stuff—”

“If it’s about my stupid crush, I promise I’ll lock it away better—”

“Hal, I want to go on a date with you,” Barry said, almost firmly. “You locking away your crush – or whatever – would be counterproductive to that.”

“And Iris?” Hal asked warily. “I like her. I… I really like you, Barry, but I don’t want to sneak around her back or anything. Not even if it meant a chance at you.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t like you half so much if you didn’t love and respect Iris like that,” Barry said.

“Which means?”

“I’m, uh. I love Iris. With… with all my heart,” Barry held Hal’s hand a bit too tightly, then forced himself to loosen his hold a bit. “I love her so, so much. That’s not changing. But I… also… you,” he said.

“You also me what?” Hal asked. He had a confused, guarded look on his face. Barry didn’t like the guarded part of it, at all.

“I love you, too,” Barry forced out, turning bright red. “I mean, I always have. But I. You know. I like you. Like-like.”

Hal snorted. “You like-like me?”

“Iris thinks I’m polyamorous,” Barry felt like he was somehow getting even redder. “She says I can love her with my whole heart and still also love you with my whole heart, without loving her any less. You know? And she wants me to talk to you about it.” He dropped his gaze to a knot in the wood of the picnic table. “So. I’m trying. Right now.”

Hal shifted in his place. “So… I could date you? Without being a homewrecker?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Barry felt a touch of giddiness lighting him up, all over inside. He let go of Hal’s hand and leaned back into his seat. “Yeah, you could. We could do things like this,” he motioned to the waterfront and the food, “But call it a date. We-we-we could kiss. Hold hands.”

“Fuck?” Hal asked.

That startled Barry into a laugh. “I mean, I guess. Not on the first date—”

“Of course not, you’re not that kinda girl,” Hal joked. “I dunno, sorry. I don’t mean to make light or anything, I just. This isn’t something I was expecting. Iris kept hinting at it, pushing me to say something about feelings n’ shit. I didn’t… I don’t know. I didn’t think she was trying to screw me over, but she felt too optimistic. And on my behalf. With her husband! Crazy.”

“You don’t have to say anything right now—”

“Are you kidding me? If you’re serious, I’m ready to dive in, head-first, Bear,” Hal snorted. “Man, have you even met me?”

“You went from worried and cautious to ‘jumping in head-first,’ real fast, there,” Barry laughed.

“I said diving,” Hal said.

“Diving in head-first,” Barry rolled his eyes. “Okay.” He shifted in his seat. “I wasn’t expecting to get this far, honestly, so I don’t know what’s next.”

“I do,” Hal half-stood from his side of the picnic table and leaned over it. He put his hands on Barry’s face, pulling him a bit forward, and kissed him – short, chaste, unbearably sweet – before he dropped back into his seat, looking pleased with himself.

Barry laughed, his heart doing something too-fast, even for a speedster. “I guess that’s something.”

“I never thought I’d get to kiss you except as, like, a joke,” Hal said. His crooked, Han Solo smile was back. “God bless Iris.”

Barry offered his hand, palm-up, to Hal.

Hal took his hand, lacing their fingers against the picnic table.

“I’m not sure what comes after this, either,” Barry said.

“That’s fine. Make it up as we go, right?”

“And ask Iris for help if we get stuck?” Barry suggested.

“For sure.”

–

Five Years Later

“Here,” Iris plopped a key into Hal’s hand.

“I already have a spare to the house?” Hal frowned at the key.

“It’s not a spare. It’s yours ,” Iris propped her hands on her hips. “You’re moving in.”

“What? Hang on, aren’t you supposed to ask, Ie?” Hal laughed.

“What’s the point of your apartment? You used to spend maybe half the year there, but now it just sits empty all the time because you spend that time here instead. It’s a money sink, at this point,” Iris said. “And Wally’s moving out in a few weeks. You can have your own room, if you like, and we won’t even be down a guest room.”

“I mean—what? If I like ?”

“Ah, fuck, that’s supposed to be after-dinner conversation,” Iris muttered to herself. “Listen. You’re moving in. Yeah? We’ll get your mail forwarded here before your next space thing for the Corps, that way you don’t have to worry about mail piling up while you’re away.”

“I don’t usually worry about that.”

Iris held up a finger to silence him. “I just need your agreement before I go ahead and start the process of getting your shit shipped here.”

“I thought you were telling me I was moving in, not asking,” Hal grinned up at her.

Iris rolled her eyes. “You already basically live here. It comes down to whether or not you want to keep your place as a sort of… place to retreat to, if you need to.”

“No, hell, let’s be rid of it,” Hal hopped up from the couch to wrap Iris in a bone-crushing hug. “Man, I’m just worried it’ll be weird.”

“What will,” Iris pushed him back a step, albeit amusedly.

“You know. Living in the same house as your husband’s mistress.”

“Never did I think that I would hear you would call yourself a mistress,” Iris snorted. “But, come on. You’re already family. You’ve been family a lot longer than you and Barry’ve been together, Hal. I can more than live with having my metamour under the same roof.”

“Or the same bedroom?”

“That’s a conversation for later,” Iris reached up and patted him on the cheek. “Suffice it to say that, no, I’m not sure I’d mind. If you wouldn’t.”

“Iris, you’re something else,” Hal said.

“Aren’t I just?” she crinkled her nose in amusement. “I’m just finally ready to fall in love with you, I think.”

“Friends to lovers, take two?” Hal asked.

“Exactly. I’m the kinda gal who only goes for people I already know and love, in the platonic sense. Demiromantic. You know that,” Iris stepped back a bit more.

“What makes you think I’d be easy about it, though?” Hal joked.

“Reporter’s nose,” Iris said. “And I overheard you talking to Barry, yesterday.”

“Ahh, the art of dropping eaves.”

“I always thought the relationship would turn out to be equal in all directions, some day. Why not start now?” Iris smiled at Hal, a bit more softly.

“Sounds nice,” Hal said.

–

Epilogue (Some Time Later)

“Why do I keep ending up in the middle!” Hal fought his way out from half-under Barry and Iris both. “Guys! Come on!” He sat up in the bed and took a moment to catch his breath. Barry just curled up against Hal’s hip. Iris, on his other side, rolled over, grumbling.

Hal had half a mind to pull her sleep-braid. He didn’t though, because she’d carefully bide her time until she could get back at him. Instead, he tugged on Barry’s hair. “Bear, I gotta get up. Move it.”

Barry grumbled and turned over.

So, Hal did the logical thing: he climbed bodily over Barry, purposely digging an elbow into Barry’s ribs, because he was mature like that. “I’m supposed to open the garage today, you absolute leeches,” he muttered.

Barry flopped into the empty space Hal left.

“Unbelievable,” Hal huffed. But he was smiling. “I’ll start the coffee.”

Iris sat up, still mostly-asleep. “Coffee,” she echoed.

“Yeah, curl up for ten, it’ll be ready for you,” Hal padded out of the room, barefoot. Iris might have been able to sleep in socks when it was cold out, but Hal was blindly resistant to even the idea. Who wore socks to bed? 

Behind him, Iris curled back up, covers pulled up to her hairline.

In the kitchen, Hal started the coffee and poked through the fridge. Then recognized that the table was occupied. “Fuck!” Hal almost dropped the eighteen-egg carton. “Rob, jesus.”

Dick was in the middle of consuming a bowl of Lucky Charms, something that they kept in the back of their pantry cupboard specifically for his visits. “Hi, Hal,” he said.

“Hi,” Hal scowled at him. “What the hell are you doing in Central at five in the morning?”

“It’s six, in Gotham,” Dick said.

“You don’t get up before—you haven’t slept, yet.”

“Nope.”

“What are you here for? Barry and Ie’re still asleep.”

“You’re basically his dad, too,” Dick said.

“Wally’s?”

“Yeah.”

Hally held up a finger, an inkling coming to mind. “Hang on a sec.” He skittered his way back upstairs, down the cold hall, and into the bedroom. “Barry, Iris,” he said, in the doorway. “Rob’s here.”

Iris sat up again. No more awake than she’d been, but blinking her way to it. “Rob?”

“He’s in the kitchen. He said I was basically Wally’s dad when I asked why he was here so early,” Hal said. He felt a bit like he was tattling.

“Is it happening?” Barry mumbled into his pillow.

“Yeah,” Hal stepped over and flipped the blankets back. “Get up, the little shit’s asking for permission.”

“Oh!” Iris lit up a bit, then hopped out of bed and threw on a housecoat. The cold always got to her, first, so the housecoat was already a permanent fixture in the room, constantly thrown over the footboard so that she could grab for it in the morning.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Hal scoffed.

When Hal made it back to the kitchen, the oily smell of eggs had picked up and Dick was standing at the stovetop, starting the Allen-Jordan-West household’s breakfast. A very dangerous thing to have Dick doing, honestly.

“Oh, shit,” Hal shooed him. “No you don’t, stay away from the stove. I haven’t forgotten about the paper towels you set on fire, last time.”

“I made sure they were far away!” Dick protested.

“Finish your marshmallows,” Hal said.

“Meringues,” Barry corrected, yawning. “Lucky Charms marshmallows are meringues, really. Not marshmallows.”

Dick sat back down, pouting.

Iris made her way in, just behind Barry. “Hi, Dickie,” she greeted.

“Ie,” Dick hopped up to give her a hug.

“Here to ask that special question, hm?” Iris leaned back, out of the hug, and smiled so wide that it set off all the joy-wrinkles that had started to take up permanent residence at the corners of her eyes. Hal honestly thought that the laugh lines made her even prettier.

“I know, it’s a silly tradition,” Dick grinned.

“Maybe to you, but us parent-types still really like being involved in the whole ‘my kid is getting married’ thing,” Barry said. He and Iris sat at the table while Hal continued to scramble the eggs from his place at the stove. The coffee was almost done brewing, beside him.

“But yeah,” Dick said. “I want to propose to him.”

“Finally,” Hal said.

“Ie, he’s beating us,” Barry joked.

Iris laughed, though Hal tossed them a quizzical smile. “He is, isn’t he?” Iris agreed.

“Sorry,” Dick laughed.

“You have our blessing, though,” Barry said. “Of course you do.”

“Yeah,” Iris agreed. “Right, Hal?”

Hal paused and looked over again. “I highly doubt my blessing matters to this. I didn’t help raise him—”

“Slander,” Iris interrupted.

“I mean, it’s not like the ‘Uncle Hal’ schtick was that big a deal—”

“Hal,” Iris scowled at him.

“Okay, geez.” Hal turned to Dick, who smiled at him patiently. “Of course you have my blessing, too, kid.”

“I was going to propose with Grandpa Thomas’s ring,” Dick confided. “But, actually, I think I want to get something more personal made? I feel like Jason’ll appreciate the chance to have the heirloom offered to him, anyway. LIke. He’ll be a puddle about it.”

“Ooh, send me pictures when you get the ring done,” Iris said. “I’d offer to trade you pictures of our project, but we’re boring – they all match.” She tapped her wedding ring as she showed it off, laughing.

“They all match?” Hal glanced over at Iris.

Barry groaned and zipped out of the kitchen, then back in. “They do,” he offered Hal a box. “This is the least memorable way to do this, but—”

Hal took the eggs off the heat, then accepted the little velvet box. Inside was a plain gold band.

“We got it when we got ours refitted,” Barry said.

“We want to add an H to ours,” Iris said. “It’ll look like yours, on the inside, when we do. We just wanted to make sure it was okay with you, first.”

Inside the band was a “H + B + I.” Hal glanced over the box, at Barry and Iris. “Seriously?”

“We can’t make it official in the legal sense, but we figured that enough time had passed that you should have one, too,” Iris shrugged.

“What’s the H doing, being first?” Hal asked, nonsensically.

“Iris suggested my initial be in the middle, since I was the bridge for a while – when you guys were metamours instead of paramours,” Barry shrugged. “Do you like it?”

“The fuck you saying? Of course I do?” Hal laughed. Otherwise he thought he might cry instead.

Dick cooed at the three of them from the table.