If Cisco and Doctor Wells thought they were being discreet in their attempts to distract him, to keep him so busy and utterly exhausted that he could not imagine thinking about Caitlin and her lack of presence they were sorely mistaken.

Caitlin was all he could think of.

He rushed through every task asked of him, his mind only a few miles away with a certain brunette woman. They couldn't deny that his speed had improved, that his concentration seemed both on point and so distant. Because he wanted to be with Caitlin, he needed to. Last night- lord, last night- had been unbelievable, amazing, confusing, utter perfection and if these tasks were in the way of their reunion then they would simply need to get done. And so he did them until finally, with the resigned look on Doctor Wells mixed with the hopeful optimism on Cisco, Barry knew that they had no other tasks, they had nothing to test, to experiment on. He was finally free to go home.

To go to Caitlin.

When he sped into her apartment, he was not expecting the sight that he was welcomed to. Because there she was, beautiful, sweet Caitlin, lying in a STAR Labs jumper and sweats on her couch, asleep. In his STAR Labs jumper, asleep. His heart stuttered at the sight of her there in his clothing and thoughts of her in his clothing, in a large array of his clothing, sleeping, waiting for him to come home, ran wild in his mind.

He crouched in front of her, taking in the sight. He gently ran his fingers across her skin, not resisting the urge to run his fingers through her unruly locks, brushing them away from her face. And it was this that roused the sleeping beauty in front of him, her eyes opening a fraction taking in the sight before her.

"Barry?" Her voice was rough with sleep, the image in front of a blurry image, but one she had seen enough in her dreams to know instinctively.

"Yeah Cait, it's me." He could hear the smile in his voice, falling more in love with her in that moment.

"Oh." Her eyes had closed again, the soft murmur giving way to a soft smile at the sound of his voice, with the knowledge that he was here, with her, where he should always be.

"You wanna get up now?" His voice was so soft, so hesitant to break whatever was allowing him this precious moment.

"Just five more minutes, I'm too comfortable here." The plea won him over immediately, he would have served the world on a silver platter if she had asked for it, but this - five minutes of them, alone - he would have no problem doing. It all felt so domestic, and he couldn't help but envision a future five, ten years down the track, with the same scene occurring, hopefully with a ring on a certain finger, maybe with the slightest hint of a bump on her stomach.

She shuffled, unable to find the perfect position she was in before. Huffing in sleepy irritation, she grabbed his hand and, placing it between her head and the arm of the couch, she sighed happily before falling asleep. But not before dropping a kiss on the inside of his wrist. He watched her in wonder, his heart threatening to burst from within his chest at her actions, his world stilling, pausing at that very moment, revolving solely around her.

"I love you Cait." It was a ghost of a whisper, a confession only uttered with the knowledge that she wouldn't recall it, wouldn't run from it. He didn't even intend to admit it aloud again, but the words refused to be held captive within him for any longer.

"L've you too." But then she said it back. And screw five minutes, he would have spent a lifetime in this situation with her, with that declaration spoken so freely between the two. So he remained leaning beside her, memorising every detail on the face that graced his dreams, not wanting the moment to end. But it did eventually, his arm having passed the stage of merely going numb and was now shooting pain down his arm.

"Cait, come on, it's time to get up." He slowly arose from his position, his hand still nestled between her and the couch. Tilting her face just so, he was able to relieve the pressure on his hand, but he couldn't bring himself to break the connection between them. He moved his fingers slightly, his other hand mirroring the first, stroking, caressing, the smooth skin beneath it. "Come on, sleepyhead."

She awoke slowly, his voice drawing her from her slumber, reality crashing down on her in fragments. Barry could pinpoint the moment she gained full comprehension of where she was and what she was now facing. He tried to hide the hurt he felt as she scurried out of his embrace, curling into herself on the other side of the couch, watching him with frightened, wary and - guilty eyes?

(And he wondered whatever could she be feeling guilt for? For it was him that ravaged her last night. It was him that ignored her rejection. It was him that needed to be on his hands and knees, pleading for her forgiveness, for her love.)

"What are you doing here Barry?" She was defensive, he could tell, and he was unsure how to venture forward.

"I came to speak to you."

"And so you broke in?" It was a quiet screech, and he quickly figured out that reminding her that she did give him a key and so, technically, under the eyes of the law, there was no break in committed would not be the wisest course of action.

"Well, you didn't come into STAR Labs today." She could hear the concern behind his words but no, she was avoiding him, she couldn't face him, not now, and here he was coming to her. She attacked him last night, took advantage of his state so why? Why was he here? Why was he torturing her like that, looking at her with those eyes of his, not a hint of disgust or judgement present.

"Is that supposed to be some sort of revelation to me?" Her words were like acid, burning him. He had never been on this side of the doctor, but now he was he longed to never return. "I am entitled to time off, you realise that, don't you?"

"I know, I - I just thought that it may have been because of last night and well, I thought we should talk about it now." Her eyes narrowed at the mention of last night.

"What do you remember of it?"

"I-" the feel of her lips, her skin, the strangled moan that escaped her lips as he kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear. He cleared his throat and looked down abashed at how distracted the memories got him to be. "Everything."

"Well, if you remember everything there is nothing to discuss, is there?" She was shutting him out, he realised. She - Caitlin Snow - the woman who opened up to him so easily, and he her. They were kindred spirits, her and him, and now, seeing her this way, he felt bereft of her in his soul.

"Caitlin, of course there is. That's the reason why we should." He reached out to her, ignoring the pang of disappointment as she recoiled from his hand.

"Well, my life isn't focussed upon catering to your every whim and wish. If you came here for an apology for engaging in such acts than here it is: I'm sorry Barry. It was only done to keep you occupied until I could get some help. Now please, my door's that way." And sure enough, her outstretched finger was pointing at her door and her eyes indicated that was exactly where she wanted him to be. Sighing in defeat he nodded, and turned to the door. But as he twisted the doorknob, he paused. And refusing to face her, to see her looking at him like that again, he spoke.

(Because he heard the slight tremor in her voice, saw the minute trembling of her finger, and he had one thing he had given up on moments before. Hope.)

"Did you ever wonder why her touch never worked on her parents?" The question stunned her momentarily, the question so left field she couldn't understand why he was bringing this up now, not when she was breaking her heart so efficiently - a clean break now decidedly more easier to handle than have him do it with such ease. He was utterly in love with Iris, hearing him say that he didn't mean the words he spoke would have done nothing other than crush her and really, she wouldn't be able to come to work and see him everyday if that were to happen.

"Well, I would assume that given they helped form her genetic composition, it made them impervious to the effects of her touch."

"And you never wondered why I was never attracted to the others, that it was you, only you. You never questioned why no one was attracted to someone too young or too old?" He had turned around by then, taking in the expression on the doctor's face, wondering if he had pushed it too fast too quickly.

(But it had been a year, he'd been in love with her for a year - he'd missed his opportunity with Iris because he had waited too long, he wouldn't make the same mistake with Caitlin, his heart couldn't take that.)

She looked at him unblinking, the new terrain they were rapidly approaching unfamiliar and confusing.

"I have this theory, you see, that it didn't induce lust, but lowered the inhibitions in relation to lust, or love. And that's why her parents were immune to her touch - they had grown to distant to have any feeling towards the other. They knew of the other's affairs and didn't care. There was no love, no lust, nothing. I think that's why they were immune to her." His eyes were burning her, trying to tell her something. She was on the cusp of comprehension, the sweet taste of knowledge so very close, but the leap of faith required was something she couldn't do. "It may have lowered them so much so that the lust or whatever romantic emotional response was exaggerated in certain cases, but it must exist initially for there to be any effect. And I think that's why I felt it toward you and none of the others." He heard her intake of breath at the confession, he felt her searching gaze sear into his soul as she looked for the truth to his statements once more."Well, that's what I wanted to say." And he turned around, reaching for the door again, cursing his stupid idea that maybe she did feel something, that it wasn't just a distraction until the firepower had arrived.

"Barry."

And there it was, his name flowing from her lips. So full of a reluctant hope that it stopped him in his tracks.

"What are you saying Barry?" He could hear the fear trembling her voice, the thought of loving someone almost as scary as rejection. He turned around and found her so much closer than before, the sheen in her eyes now visible. He could see the war going on inside of her - to shut him out or let him in, and he hoped that she would let him in, oh god he hoped that would be the case.

"I'm saying that when I told you I dream of you, I wasn't lying." He took a determined step forward, watching her. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, the emotions of the past day finally releasing itself. She finally felt comfortable showing these emotions, because Barry was there and he wasn't leaving her. Her comfort, her hero. Her Barry. "When I told you I fantasise about you, I wasn't lying." There was in intensity that flashed in his eyes as he continued, refusing to let this be something brushed away as an effect of yet another metahuman. "I do Caitlin. I think of those things, yes. But I also imagine the dates, children running around in the backyard, doing scientific experiments, blowing things up." With every step his voice had dropped in volume, emotion clogging his throat, and here, in front of her it was barely a whisper. His hand reached out, caressing her face and he marvelled at the way she melted into his touch, he stood in awe at her beauty as her face relaxed, as her eyes fluttered closed at the contact. She nuzzled into his hand, seeking his heat and love, needing it to warm the icy cold grip fear had upon her. "Of me calling you Doctor Allen."

"Doctor Allen?" Her voice quivered as she repeated his last words. It wasn't lost to her that his father had been a doctor, a Doctor Allen, and to have him want it to be her, a title that he held in such high esteem, one surrounded by a tragic past - to have him say it with such adoration, as though she was able to wipe away the darkness surrounding it- her heart throbbed at the implication.

"When I told you I love you, I wasn't lying." He smiled weakly, afraid that she would run, afraid that her fear would make her run. But she didn't; her eyes flung open, eyes probing for the truth, for that to be the truth. She suspected after he arrived that maybe he did have feelings for her - but she didn't believe it to be as strong as love. She never allowed herself to imagine the future he was portraying for her, but now she did, and it was glorious.

"But - but Iris?" He shook his head slowly, the expression on Caitlin's face breaking his heart. Had he been so evidently in love with Iris before that Caitlin couldn't see how helplessly in love he had been with her now?

"I'm telling you now, unaffected by whatever the metahuman was able to induce, that I love you - and not in the platonic way you've imagined. I'm not lying or exaggerating, I do love you. Not Iris, not any longer. This," he brought her shaking hand to his heart, pausing, allowing her to feel the steady beat underneath her palms. "This belongs to you, it beats for you Caitlin."

And before he finished her name she was in his arms, pressing herself against him, kissing him. He stumbled at her momentum, his mind blank to all except her, the feel of her lips against his own, the way she moved, the passion she kept hidden behind the walls of her heart. And no, it wasn't the lust inducing or inhibition lowering powers that made him doubt that the lightning gave him speed because he felt that he was floating with her in his arms - it was her, all of her. He finally regained some form of sense and kissed her back, smiling under the assault of her lips, hands refamiliarising themselves with the contours of her body, heart and mind yearning for the physical intimacy of the last night, especially following his declaration.

He gripped her tightly, afraid that this would all come crashing down around him, that she would still run, and now that he's tasted her, held her, touched her, he wasn't sure he could survive like that, live seeing her everyday and not cracking.

"I love you too Barry." It was whispered against his skin, the moment too fragile to break. It was a mantra, flowing from her heart and lips, each word punctured with a peppering of kisses across his jawline and down his throat. She could feel his tension slowly seeping from his body with every time she uttered it; she knew he was afraid she would shut him out, that she would do as she did before.

She lingered at his pulse point, enjoying the thump underneath her lips, taking comfort in the feeling. Because he was here, he was alive and he was in love with her.

She pulled away only slightly, eyes locking and breaths so ragged their chests were physically brushing against each other with every attempt to draw oxygen into their lungs.

"You- you love me?" His voice contained such awe, and she realised for the first time that maybe she wasn't the only person that was unsure in their standing with the other. He had been in love with his best friend for almost two decades, to imagine that she could reciprocate seemed so bizarre and unlikely he had almost expected rejection.

"I love you Barry." She smiled at the confirmation, her heart lighter as the words were made audible. They seemed so insignificant, so underwhelming, but it was the best she could do to verbalise her feelings, to express to him just how much he meant to her.

"And you won't try running away from me again?" The fear that she would still run lingered in his mind, and she needed to quell that immediately. Because she could never run from him, not after the past twenty four hours, not now that he was here, pouring out his heart, his dreams for the future - dreams that involved her in no minor capacity - to her. She pulled him close for one more kiss, soft and quick, but still leaving the both of them breathless.

"Never, you're stuck with me now Barry." Her voice dropped at his name, her tongue wrapping around the syllables as the sultry tone teased him, a mischievous glint in her eye indicating that she remembered everything from last night to, especially a certain confession about his name coming from her lips. She saw his eyes darken as soon as it left her, the power she felt almost as intoxicating as his hands and lips on her. They had both felt the atmosphere shift, the lighter one replaced by one which conveyed the raw desperation and need for the other.

"Good." His voice was gruff, and it sent a shiver down her spine to know that she was responsible, that it was her that affected him in such a way. "Because I would really like my sweater back." And her laughter quickly changed into something else entirely.

She couldn't recall the stumbling around in her lounge room, of how she ended up pressed against her wall, a very loving, a very real Barry Allen responsible for it all. But she did, and his laughter was muffled against her lips, his smile as he pulled away to breathe lighting up the dark crevices of her broken heart. And she couldn't help but respond in kind; she felt whole and happy once more and it was all due to the man in red, saving her every single day.

And in his arms, she was home.

And so, this little thing is now finished, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I do not own the characters or have any rights to the TV show.

Oh! Come say hi to me on tumblr if you have it :)