summary: in which it is a wasted christmas unless there is at least one kiss under the mistletoe. set post-1x09 ; the man in the yellow suit.

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Caitlin Snow was a lot of things. Perceptive was one of them.

She watched as everyone else began to slowly exit the Wests' home. Eddie kissed Iris goodnight, and Caitlin wasn't the slightest bit surprised to see the way Barry looked away, feigning interest in the Christmas tree, as if the sight of them together burned his eyes. Iris lightly pushed Eddie away, kissing his cheek and whispering a simple goodnight.

If she had to guess, she would say Barry had finally confessed to Iris how he felt. Considering her comfortable state with her current boyfriend, Caitlin would reckon Iris didn't reciprocate his feelings. And for that, her heart broke for Barry.

She saw the way he looked at Iris. Like she had put the stars in the sky, and done so with a smile brighter than every constellation combined. Sometimes, it filled Caitlin with an unspeakable pang. She wrote that off as sadness and nostalgia over Ronnie, a name that still caused a flash of pain to shoot through her.

Emotions were, of course, all scientific reactions to stimulation.

It was just kind of hard to remember that when those emotions, scientific or not, completely overwhelmed a person.

Rejection wasn't anywhere near as awful as death. She knew this, and not in a self-pitying way, but in a practical sense. She knew the death of her father when she was younger was far more painful than romantic rejection in high school.

But she also knew that being in love with someone who didn't love you back could easily shatter a person into a million little pieces. Not that she had ever fallen in love before Ronnie. She was simply as certain of this as she was that her hair was brown, Barry had super speed, science explained everything, and Cisco had an unhealthy obsession with Star Wars.

(She wouldn't dare admit that maybe, just maybe, it was because she was slowly but steadily falling for someone who didn't love her back. Someone who had just been rejected by somebody who didn't love him back. That was irony at its finest, and she had no interest in allowing herself to feel those things.

Not openly, at least.)

Cisco and Eddie both departed within a few minutes of each other, bidding everyone goodnight while Caitlin observed from the sidelines. Iris said an awkward goodnight to Barry before darting up the stairs to her bedroom, and Joe retired to his room for the evening with an ominous glass of eggnog.

Leaving Caitlin with Barry. Alone.

At first, he seemed startled to notice her hesitantly hovering by the Christmas tree. As if he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had entirely forgotten her presence. Then a minuscule smile crossed his expression, filled with so much light that it made the sun at its very brightest appear dim.

"Cait. Interested in more eggnog? I'm not sure there's that much left, but–"

She shook her head, and he shut up. It was often like Barry to ramble on and on, especially when he was stressed or nervous. But he was neither of those things now, nor did he have any reason to be. It wasn't like she made him nervous, that was the territory of Iris West.

After a fleeting moment of silence, she finally spoke up. "You told Iris how you felt, didn't you?" Despite it being a question, it sounded more like a statement. Firm yet understanding.

A beat passed. She wondered if he was going to try to lie, despite the fact that his emotions were written across his face. Except, lying had never been Barry Allen's forte, not really, not unless it was necessary. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"I'm gathering it didn't go well?"

He let out a short laugh. "No, not particularly. I mean … I don't know." He chuckled again, ducking his head. She couldn't help but find the movement oddly endearing. "I'm happy for her and Eddie, honestly. I'm happy she's happy, it's just …"

"You would prefer it if she was happy with you." This time, it was a statement, through and through.

Barry smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. The realization of that, that the light was dimming in his eyes at least for tonight, hit Caitlin with the force of a punch. "You know me too well, Dr. Snow."

She found herself smiling back, as she often did around him, though she worried it was just as halfhearted as his.

Barry Allen's ability to always bring a smile out of her was something that still came as a surprise, even after how much time had passed. They were friends, that was true, but she could still perfectly recall what he had said to her a short while after they first met.

I just noticed you don't smile too much.

Life was always changing. Evolution was apart of everyday life, and this shouldn't have come as such a shock to her. But he had been entirely correct – she hadn't smiled too much. Or ever, really.

Until he came along.

Caitlin tucked a loose strand of light brown hair behind her ear, not thinking of the way his gaze darted up to settle on her face as she did so. "You looked like you needed someone to talk to," she said softly. "So I thought I would stay for awhile longer. If you want."

Always trying to seem happy in even the worst of situations, she was hardly caught off guard when Barry smiled again. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind that." He sat down on the edge of the Wests' cough, patting the empty space beside him. Caitlin hesitated, glancing at one of the nearby chairs, but he shook his head, patting again.

Persistent little speedster, wasn't he?

With a quiet little sigh, she took a seat next to him. Keeping a safe amount of space between them, of course. Not that it mattered either way, because they were just friends. "So what did she say?"

Barry exhaled, the smile slowly slipping from his expression. She hated to see it fade. "She didn't say anything at all, that's the thing. I was just talking and talking, spilling everything I'd kept bottled up for so long, and – and what could she say, Cait? She's in love with Eddie. It's fine. I'm fine."

Caitlin would totally believe that. If it didn't seem like he was trying to convince himself more than her, that is.

The thought that Iris could have apologized, or talked to Barry about it did occur to her, but she saw no sense in suggesting that. It would only hinder Barry's process of accepting all of this. "Well, at least you finally let it all out. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

He nodded, glancing down at his lap. The colorful holiday lights surrounding them, almost ethereally lovely with their soft glow in the near dark, caused his brown hair to appear almost reddish. She couldn't help but think it was rather … beautiful.

Caitlin was not a particularly touch-y person, never prone to excessive hugging or public displays of affection. A hug here or there when it was meaningful, a hand to hold in times of distress, but nothing over the top. It just wasn't her style.

For that matter, neither was comforting people who had just had their heart shattered by the person they had spent almost their whole life hopelessly in love with.

Despite all of that, she was prone to being there for those who needed her. Especially the people she cared about. And she had come to care about Barry Allen (perhaps too much, but that was a realization for another night). Quite a lot.

Hesitantly, Caitlin intertwined their fingers, responding to his startled look with a half-smile that she hoped appeared reassuring. "Everything will be okay in the end. If it isn't okay, it isn't the end."

"With sayings like those, you could be a motivational speaker."

"I think we both know I prefer science over emotions."

Barry chuckled, his attention dropping to their hands, so messily yet carefully tangled together. "I can definitely understand why," he muttered. There was still a certain sadness about him, easy to sense, and Caitlin felt her heart physically ache from the thought of him being in any kind of pain.

She wasn't certain when her protective nature over him had shown up. All she knew was that it had, and there was no getting rid of it now. Not that she wanted to.

But truly, how could she possibly protect him from this?

"Thanks for staying," he said suddenly, their eyes meeting once more. She felt something in her chest, not the usual pang she was accustomed to, but something that felt more like a skipped heartbeat. Highly illogical, but– "And for everything."

Caitlin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Everything?"

"Helping me become the Flash," Barry clarified. "I couldn't have done any of it without you. O-Or Cisco and Dr. Wells, of course, but … still. You've helped a lot, and I can't count the number of times you've saved my life, and dozens of other lives in the process. So, thank you for that."

There was that strange feeling in her chest again, far more prominent than before. Almost as if it was attempting to swallow her whole. She tried to ignore it, instead plastering a small smile on her face. "You don't need to thank me, Barry."

"Yes, I do," he insisted. Always stubborn, always sticking close to what he thought was right, always following through with it. Even if his entire world was crashing down. It was one of the things she admired most about him. "I do need to thank you. I might be the Flash, but … the reason I am is you."

Another beat passed, this one longer than the last time.

(It felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest, and at this point, she would have gladly allowed it to. Anything to stop these unwanted feelings. She wasn't ready to fall in love again, wasn't ready to feel anything like this again.)

Barry paused, clearing his throat awkwardly. "And, uh, and the others. Without you … guys, there is no Flash."

This time, Caitlin glanced down at their twined hands. Her hair brushed in front of her face, thankfully hiding her quickly warming cheeks. "Well, then. Thank you for always saving the day."

She had never been particularly skilled with words. She couldn't give long, sentimental speeches that left people flushed, not the way that Barry did. But the meaning was just the same, and she hoped he could sense that.

It seemed that he did. His fingers gently grazed his jaw, eliciting a startled sort of yelp from Caitlin, before he tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek. "You know, no one's Christmas should pass without at least one kiss under the mistletoe."

Caitlin blinked rapidly. "I don't recall ever hearing that rule before."

Barry's eyes glinted mischievously, in a way that suggested she had never heard it because he had just thought it up. Suddenly, the light pressure against her skin was gone, leaving her feeling cold even with the heating, as he vanished in a blur. He was back before she could consider standing up, the Wests' front door cracked slightly open, letting in even more cold air.

She was about to chastise him for that, before noticing what he held in his right hand.

Mistletoe.

"We wouldn't want to break holiday tradition," Barry said, with a hopeful smile that caused butterflies to flare up in her stomach. (Which was such an unrealistic expression, those feelings were clearly due to chemistry, but she was too shocked to focus on that right now.) "Would we?"

Caitlin blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

And then she stood up, a smile filled with the same kind of child-like adoration she often saw his expressions reflect. There was something crazily bright and hopeful about Barry Allen, something that inspired Caitlin to continue searching for the good things in life, keep moving forward, no matter what. "No. No, we wouldn't."

With a steady slowness (such a drastic difference from his typical brisk pace), Barry took a few steps closer to her. She felt her heartbeat quicken with each step, the pulse in her wrists hammering from pure adrenaline, and then his left hand cupped her cheek and his lips were pressed softly against hers and she could hardly breathe.

For a kiss that couldn't have possibly meant anything to him, other than a show of gratitude for her being there for him, it certainly meant a lot to her. Too much.

It ended far too soon for her liking, but Barry kept his forehead lightly leaned against hers. His dark eyes were sparkling, and perhaps not just because of the twinkling fairy lights hung throughout the living room.

He was tragically beautiful, she realized with a pang that felt far too familiar to her.

(So much for not falling in love again.)

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Snow."

She swallowed hard. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Allen."

(We are quite the pair, Mr. Allen.

Yes, we are, Dr. Snow.)