I haven't felt this way before now. The way Barry looks at me makes me feel like something sacred, and of value. It isn't that I've never felt valued before. I have, but I haven't noticed, until now, that his expression is something different. It's so much more than just value.

I knew he cared about me. I've always known that. He's my best friend, we can't stay away from each other for more than a day or so. Even when we're angry each other, our stubbornness keeps us apart longer than our actual feelings do.

Since I woke up to the tickling sensation of his breath on the back of my neck, I've been talking to him about everything. Specifically, about the previous night, when he held me and touched me and kissed me, begging me to understand that there is nothing and no one he could ever love more. I traced lines on his face with my fingertips over the bridge of his nose, and his forehead, his cheeks and his mouth.

I never kissed him because I wanted to hear him speak. I don't think I could ever get tired of listening to him speak about anything. I make jokes about not being able to understand him when he talks about science, but the truth is that I could listen to him recite the dictionary without ever getting bored.

There's an invisible thread from his gaze to mine that pulls us closer and closer every second, but still parted enough to murmur to each other. He rambles on about the perfection of the moment, wishing it would never end. I trace his smile with my fingers again and he smiles bigger when my thumb reaches the corner of his mouth. The thread pulls us closer.

His hand is moving up and down my side, caressing my thigh and waist. His other arm supports his head. Occasionally, he'll make a joke. He'll tell me he just wanted to see me smile, and he'll reach up to touch mine as well. The thread has us so close now that I can feel him forming his words with my mouth. I could kiss him now, if I wanted to, but I don't yet.

He closes his eyes and speaks, letting my breath scramble his sentences until the soundest phrases make no sense. I watch him curl his lips up to reach for mine, but I don't give him what he wants.

My teasing is becoming frustrating to him, and I can't help but love that feeling. The feeling that he thirsts for my kiss, and becomes frustrated when he can't have it. His hand stops caressing my side and rests at my hip. His fingers tighten and he tries to pulls me closer, but I inch away, trying to hold back threatening laughter, and failing miserably. He mutters my name, a combination of desire and disgruntlement.

"I'm going downstairs for breakfast" I say against the side of his mouth, pushing on his chest and moving closer to the edge of the bed. He tells me not to go, but I push some more, and some more, unable to keep myself from giggling like a child.

I push away from him and he moves closer to me until we're both nearly falling off of the bed. I can't control my laughter at all anymore. His hands are grabbing at my waist and his smile hovers as close as it can above mine.

Then my arms are flailing and so are his. I try to grab him for balance, but he's less balanced than I am. He speeds up, moving underneath me to keep my body from hitting the ground any harder than it needs to. We hit the ground with a "thud" on top of one another, a thin sheet corner sandwiched between our half naked bodies. He managed to make it underneath me fast enough to break my fall. Half a second after I realize we've fallen off the bed, I notice that he made himself my personal cushion, and stare at him, blood rushing to my face. He gapes at my parted lips and holds both of my arms lightly in his hand. Seconds pass, another moment we both wish we could freeze.

I chuckle. He chuckles too, and then we're both laughing so hard we can hardly catch our breath. I roll onto my back on the floor next to him, grabbing at my aching ribcage.

When the laughter stops, my sights linger on the ceiling, but I know that he is looking at me again.

I let some time pass. "I really am hungry." I look at him and sigh.

"Breakfast can wait a little longer." he says, throwing himself on top of me again and pressing his lips against my collar bone.

Short WestAllen one shot about the morning after. Enjoy!