Caitlin's POV

It's late, and I'm still stuck at S.T.A.R Labs. I'm processing yet another meta-human DNA sample, with a giant to-do list. You'd think Barry, being a forensic scientist and all, should be doing this, ad he probably would've, but he was over at Starling City. Probably going to see Felicity, I think disappointedly. She was pretty much the same as him, a perfect match.

A perfect match that I can't be.

Stupid feelings. Stupid hormones. Stupid caring. The stupid DNA scan can wait till tomorrow, right? Wait, then I have to work on how to get Barry drunk, and mop up Cisco's food experiment in the kitchen, then I have to check all the lights, check in my keycard, and lock up the front door for Dr. Wells.

That's when I check the date.

It's the 20th of December.

Oh no. I haven't been paying attention to the date! Shoot! I haven't bought anything!

Or put up the tree!

EEP!

I have to call Dr Wells tomorrow and tell him I have to take a couple days off.

So I sit down, and start to work on some bland paperwork describing the anomaly in the particle accelerator. Its been about eleven months, why can't people just let this go?

My eyelid droop dangerously low. I concentrate on the paperwork.

Focus, I tell myself.

I end up falling asleep.

-The Next Morning-

The first thing I notice is that I'm in my own bed, in my apartment that I bought after selling the house Ronnie and I lived in together. The near empty one, with half of the stuff that I kept still in cardboard boxes around the place. The second is that there's something cooking in the kitchen.

I grab a frying pan from the box near the bedroom door marked 'Kitchen Pans'.

I advance slowly down the white hallway, holding the pan in front of me as a weapon.

There is an overall smell of breakfast.

Pancakes, bacon and eggs.

I can hear something sizzling in a pan.

I go through the living space leading to the kitchen.

There is a man at the stove.

Too late, I'm already running, and it doesn't register in my brain to check if I know the guy first. I swing the pan around, intending to pivot, but I spin too early, and instead twirl, fall and hit my head on the small, bare coffee table.

Everything in my world goes black.

I groggily open my eyes.

Pain floods through my head as I stare at the ceiling, competing with the tirade of questions.

-A While Later-

Why am I on my couch?

Why is there an ice pack pressed to my forehead?

Why is there a smell of men's cologne, suspiciously like Barry's?

I sit up. Or I try to. Immediately, there's a hand on my back and forehead, laying me back down. Barry's face comes into view. "Easy there. There's a bit of a giant lump on your head."

"What are you doing in my apartment?"

"I brought you home this morning." It's a simple enough answer really, but there's one thing nagging me.

"How'd you get inside?"

"Cisco told me where you keep the spare keys."

"Ah."

He stares at my face a moment longer, then he almost imperceptibly shakes his head.

"Come on, I made breakfast. We've got to work on your self-defence skills." He says with a smile.

I swat his arm, and smile a little bit. "Shut up."

He extends his hand to me. I gratefully accept it.

-Half an hour later-

"I didn't know you could cook that well." I say after a very satisfying meal.

"I didn't know you could eat." He smiles one of his smiles, quirky and unique and so entirely him.

"In my defence, I haven't eaten anything since a granola bar I found in my handbag yesterday and ate at 9am."

He smiles cheekily. "You put it in there?" I ask incredulously. Though nowadays, nothing should surprise me.

His Cheshire Cat grin tells me all I need to know.

"What's the time? We better get to S.T.A.R Labs, or Dr. Wells will be mad."

"Already taken care of. I called a day off, for both of us. I figured you hadn't done your Christmas shopping, and I'm not going to let you go alone with the lump on your head."

"Thank you, but you don't have to spend the day with me. You could just call every hour or so."

"No, I'm coming with you. I haven't done my shopping either. Plus, you're fun to be around, when you smile, and laugh, and generally act like a human being."

"Thanks Barry, but I wish to spare you from a torture. This is my first Christmas without Ronnie, and I haven't unpacked my Christmas stuff. Basically consisting of the plastic tree that I have. I threw all the ornaments away. I mean, I'm over Ronnie, I've accepted he's dead, or worse, but it's just different."

That was part of the truth. The other part was that I didn't want to embarrass myself, or worse, blurt out my feelings for him. And I couldn't hide it for a whole day!

"Which is why I am keeping you company. We're going to get a real tree. Everyone needs a real tree at Christmas, and we're getting a gingerbread house kit."

"Okay. But not the gingerbread house kit." I say. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this.

He looks speculative for a moment, then his face lights up as he has an idea.

"You're right. We need to get a gingerbread village kit!" I face-palm, and he laughs.

"I confess. I can't decorate." My cheeks warm over a little bit, and I look down at my plate.

"Neither can I." He says it in such a warm and sincere tone that I look up, and directly into his eyes. "So, I'll wash up, and you go get dressed? I can trust you to do that without harming yourself, right?"

I laugh, and it's the easy kind of laughter that always came when Ronnie was around.

I navigate back to my room with a slight skip to my step.

I dress, in a blue dress with a royal blue knee-length coat and a grey beanie, brush my hair and put a little bit of lip gloss on.

I grab my purse, stuff my phone in it, and leave my room.

"Hey Barry, ready to go?" I say with an easy smile. I've resolved to be a human being for today, pretend that Ronnie didn't happen.

"Yeah, let's go. So, do you want to walk, take a cab, 'cause your car is still at S.T.A.R Labs, or go by the," he pops his collar in such an adorable way that makes me want to hug him,"Flash Express." He laughs, and so do I.

"Really, you offer transport to people in need now?"

"Just doing my job, ma'am." He salutes me.

"Cheesy jokes aside, the mall isn't that far, but maybe later on the way back we can take a cab."

"No Flash Express?" He pouts.

"No Flash Express, but we can get Starbucks instead."

"Okay," he says, "but you're buying."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." I say, a small smile fixed to my face.

"Shall we?" he offers me his arm, and I tuck my arm in the nook of his.

"We shall," I say, and we both laugh, as we step into our day together.