Set after the events in 1x12 "Crazy For You." Bless this episode, man. I think I flail about 90% of the time and I literally re-watched it because there are so many perfect things. Caitlin deciding to finally move on was such an amazing character development for her, and you can actually see that, by the end of it, she was determined to "find someone new to be crazy about". I honestly think that's good for her, regardless if it's towards Barry or otherwise (but yeah, mostly). Also, Barry and his dad and Joe giving me good fam-vibes? Dude, I'm so happy I can't even word. But anyways, enjoy!

Also posted on AO3 and Tumblr. I just have so many feelings tbh.

...

you can feel it on your way home

She remembered the night.

Not instantly, of course. But eventually. It's a thing she's learnt to discover after her first few hangovers―that, more often than not, she could remember most of the stuff that's happened the night before. It wasn't always a good thing, but she learned to accept it. Sometimes the parched memories came weeks later, sometimes it's just as soon as the hangover passed. But when she's really lucky, not at all.

But yes, to get to the point, she remembered the night.

The fact that the dress hung there limply when she returned back home from the lab doesn't make it easier. (She was too hungover to be bothered with it in the morning, alright.) It came out slowly, these memories: the buzz, the white noises, and Barry's worry glances in between drinks.

And she remembered cool hand smoothing down her back after she (ew) puked her stomach out at the corner of a parking lot approximately three kilometres away from the bar. She remembered cringing, wiping traces of her tainted saliva with the back of her hand before he ran and return with a napkin that she wasn't sure if it's even his (now that she's thought of it) and taking it from his offered hand as he nudged for her to make it to good use.

She wiped her mouth.

What was she supposed to do anyway?

And then she remembered long slim fingers still rubbing circles at the centre of her spine (not too low, no because she knew him, and he's not the type, of course he wasn't) but not too high either (to remind her that they're far past the point of just acquaintances) and his movements were gentle, soft, made to caress, to comfort, and she remembered hiccuping and wondered why on earth would Iris West ever give up on this?

"Ugh, that was gross." She whimpered into the napkin with a tiny whine, recalling his free hand coming up to pull back curtains of brown hair from falling into her eyes.

He looked calm. "That was―close."

"I'm sorry."

He smiled, a little, shaking his head with a subtly that baffled her every time and prompted, "That's okay," he told, dropping his hand. "You're okay."

"I don't..." She rubbed at her stomach, allowing herself to fall carelessly against his body and the pit of her stomach somersaulted when he seemingly caught her, two hands gentle on her waist. "...feel okay."

She thought she heard him chuckle. "That, you don't."

Her breath caught when his breath tickled her ear, and her forehead dropped soon later to meet the hard bones under the skin of his shoulders, tiredness getting the best of her now, while his thumb moved, hooking just a little more securely around her hips. "C'mon, let's take you home." He'd said, a breath of lightness brushed his tone, and she suddenly felt like she could be dancing on the clouds.

"No running," she mumbled, shaking against the space of his shoulder and neck. "Just... one minute."

"Caitlin...?" He started, worry heavy in his tone.

"Shh Barry," she got herself on his side (because no, Caitlin, her stupid brain reminded: you're here to find yourself a romantic interest. Maybe. But not with one Mr. Allen, because he's―he's not available, remember? Not to you, anyways.) Still leaning close―sides pressing, bodies flushing―oh, so close. But she didn't allow herself to think much of it. Can't, really. Won't. "Just... give me a minute, okay?"

He took her home.

She'd never doubt that he would. And she could still feel the coldness biting on her skin as he'd flashed them half way through town to her apartment―in all honestly, it still took her by surprise on how she hadn't vomit again at such speed when her body's not made or trained to sustain it―and she remembered his presence. Alive and awake and careful eyes watching her, guarding. Smiling.

"G'night, Barry." She'd mumbled with a tired, crazy smile hovering her lips and remembered him squinting through the dark after he's turned the light off, remembered his thumb still going up and down her blanketed thigh in an attempt to soothe―and remembered how such simple act worked.

How quickly she relaxed.

But she's always been relaxed, at ease if you may, whenever it's come to him. It's Barry. He's... when he's not out there stubbornly trying to get himself killed, he's... he's good. He's kind and nice and gentle and gosh, those long fingers―and when he looked at her. She'd always liked the way he looked at her. It may not be in the way he's always been longingly stared at Iris, or how he'd admirably stare at Joe or Dr. Wells, but in his eyes, he'd somehow made her feel... like she's invincible.

Like a person too, of course. A person who's more than her sad sob story and genius mind and mothering-like blabbers. Yet all at the same time, so much more. Like she could... like she could take over the world, and he'd stand there and just be proud of her. Yeah.

She remembered that.

She remembered that the most.

"Good night Caitlin," he'd looked at her again, and she'd wished she could lean forward and just―make him stay. Make him stay for good. But she was too tired, too sleepy, and he's already ready to walk away. So she lets him, and he said again: "I'll see you tomorrow." And she fell asleep.

(But yes, if you asked her properly, she'd say she remembers.

And quite frankly, if you push the truth out of her, she'd tell you she'll never ever want to forget.)

End Note: Also, have you guys seen the stills for the next ep? *flails again*