.

.

They were in the den, battling their way through the final level of the hot new video game released just days earlier, when the front door opened.

"BARRY ALLEN!"

Despite being only minutes from beating the game, Wally West immediately tossed the controller aside and scrambled to gather his jacket and the shoes he'd kicked off hours earlier. Barry watched him, bemused.

"What are you -"

"BARRY!"

The echo of a door slamming reverberated through the house. Wally paused only long enough to snatch the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table.

"I don't know what you did, but I don't want to get hit by the shrapnel."

He was gone before Iris appeared in the doorway. The only thing missing was steam coming from her ears.

Barry took one look at her face and let the game die on-screen. He pushed to his feet and tried to play it cool.

"Well, hey there. I . . . I thought I heard you come in."

Her voice dropped to near lethal levels. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

His brain emptied. And then went into overdrive. He could think of several recent incidents that had almost ended in catastrophe or serious injury, and he'd rather hoped she would never know about any of them.

"Uh . . . Find out about . . . what?"

The rolled-up newspaper hit him in the stomach with enough force to draw a soft oomph. Hands on her hips, Iris glared at him.

"Go ahead," she hissed. "Open it."

He did. It was the newspaper from National City. He scanned the front page, seeing nothing but the usual reports of political maneuvering, crime reports and . . .

Oh.

She knew the instant the truth dawned.

"You gave Cat Grant an interview?"

The question sounded like an accusation. Barry took one step back.

Iris took two steps forward.

"No. I mean, I was . . . I was up there and . . . Okay, well . . . maybe, but . . . See, it was just . . ." He couldn't get the words out, not with her tracking his footsteps like a miniature tigress ready to pounce.

"The newspaper here in Central City, you know, the one I work for, is bleeding subscribers. We lose money every day." She continued to advance as he backed away, not stopping even when he tripped over a small footstool in his haste to get out of her range. "But you know what we do have? You know what still sells out daily editions and ad space?"

Barry hit the wall and could go no further. Iris grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and jerked him down to her level.

"We have The Flash. Right here, in our own city. Our very own superhero. AND YOU GAVE CAT GRANT AN INTERVIEW!"

"I didn't think . . ."

"No, you didn't!" she snapped. "Why would anyone buy our paper when they can pick up National City's and read their two-page spread!"

Barry couldn't help but glance down at the newspaper he was still holding. "She gave me two pages? Wow, that's -"

"BARRY!"

He snapped back to attention.

"How could you do that to me?" she asked. "I work there! Don't you know how fragile our industry is right now? People get laid off every week! Whole departments close down. I could lose my job! And besides, I'm your . . ."

She finally sputtered to a stop. They'd never actually put a label on their relationship.

Barry saw the flicker of uncertainty on her face and let the newspaper fall, forgotten, to the floor. He cupped her face between his palms.

"You're the reason my heart beats."

The ire drained out of her. He watched her fight a smile. "Barry . . ."

"You're every breath I take." His thumbs caressed the softness of her cheeks.

"You know that's not what I meant." She was pleased, and trying not to show it, and he was irrevocably smitten.

"You're the reason I get up in the morning. Or," his voice dropped as he stared at the lush curves of her lips, "the reason I don't."

Heat brought a flush to the warm gold of her skin. "You're trying to distract me. I'm not . . ."

He cut off her words with a kiss. She was still holding on to the front of his shirt; when their lips parted to allow for the hungry sweep of tongues, Iris sighed and leaned into him.

Her eyes stayed closed when Barry nibbled his way to her ear. "I'm still mad at you."

"I know. I feel awful about that." He tugged her shirt free of the waistband of her jeans and slipped his hands underneath. "I'm ready to apologize - right now."

The busy work of his fingers made her gasp. "We're still going to talk about this . . . after."

"Right. Yea. Sure. After."

When Barry scooped her up in his arms, the bright sound of Iris' laughter lingered in the air long after the door to their bedroom snapped closed.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!