When Barry's waiting for the final minutes of his shift with Julian to pass, processing time as a speedster sucks.

When he meets Iris at the backdoor of CCPN for their first date however, it's the best perk of being The Flash.

He wouldn't be able to absorb her thoroughly head-to-toe otherwise, at least not the way she deserves to be gazed at, from the shine of her hair, to the tips of her pumps, with just enough time to appreciate her fitted dress and toned legs on the way down.

The entire cart of fresh flowers he purchased for her could never compare, and Barry suddenly wishes he bought her a whole garden.

"I know it's cliche, and it sounds like a rehearsed line for a first date," Barry grins at her bashfully, swinging their joint hands together as they make their way to the restaurant. "But I have to tell you how amazing you look."

He's lucky Jesse came through to help him thwart that tanker Magenta maneuvered from destroying Central City Hospital, because otherwise, the ensuing disaster and its aftermath would have delayed his second attempt at a proper first date with Iris even further.

With his luck though, he should have anticipated that things were bound to go downhill if they seemed too good to be true, and kissing Iris in vivid blue against the backdrop of the city's water front was just too good.

He leaves reluctantly to attend to whatever Joe called him for, threateningly entering the station with gritted teeth if a real emergency doesn't meet him behind the station doors, but not before shooting her a text: Be back before anyone tries to woo you while I'm gone, though I can't exactly blame them when you look like that.

Is it too early in their relationship for them to settle for nights in together and consider them dates? Perhaps for any other couple it might be.

But for him and Iris, it's just another Thursday night of wine and whatever Netflix has to offer, the latest addition to the mix being candlelight and heated couch make-out sessions.

He can't resist her, not after she licks her lips and slyly remarks how handsome he is, and once his hand makes contact with the smooth skin of her thigh, he knows they aren't going to watch any movies tonight.

"Not so bad yourself" isn't the compliment he intends to give her, but he's at a momentary loss when he tries to formulate his response. Moved to speechlessness at her voicing her attraction to him, unable to articulate how beautiful he finds her, he settles for flirty, though he wants to say so much more.

You are breathtaking. You are stunning. You are perfect.

When none of those do her justice, he hopes at least the way he covers her body with his and kisses her does.

After he slides the coat off her back and she lets it fall to the floor of their new loft, he pulls away from her lips briefly.

"You didn't exactly answer my question," he teases.

"You didn't exactly ask me a question," Iris retaliates, a twinkle in her eye.

He smirks as he always does at her sharp tongue. "What do you say we live under the same roof again?"

"I say I'd live anywhere as long as I'm with you."

Her gaze doesn't leave his as she tightens her grip around his neck, the stubborn left strap of her velvet dress slipping once again even though he'd just adjusted it for her after freeing her of her coat.

She doesn't move to rearrange it, and he knows that's his cue.

Barry gently glides the second burgundy strap down her shoulder, inhaling deeply at the sight of her exposed collar, sleek and delicate.

"This dress," he breathes, looking her over. "Forget the wallet, this was my Christmas gift." He makes a mental note to stop resorting to lighthearted banter when he's overwhelmed by her beauty.

"I don't know if I should take it off or leave it on," he chuckles, instantly forgetting his own reproach.

"Mhmm," Iris laughs softly, expelling her warm breath against his cheeks, setting his heart racing. "All you really have to take off is what's underneath."

Why his face heats at that, he can't explain. He's been stripping Iris of her clothes for weeks at this point, but every time he thinks he has the hang of this-her body, her proximity, her fervor-all she has to do is wear something new and he's just as nervous as he was the first time they stood together ready to bare themselves, as though some unspoken challenge existed between them.

He tries to match her competition.

"Literally be prettier," he murmurs, his pupils boring into hers, "I dare you."

All it takes is her tugging the dress entirely off of her figure for her to win.

Weeping on his wedding day was inevitable. Barry had even carefully tucked a few folded tissues into his tuxedo pocket in preparation that morning, just in case he got carried away. With Iris he could never be certain, but what he was sure of was that she was going to be radiant.

He wasn't wrong, and the tears form the second he lays eyes on her.

He's grateful for his ability to slow down the ticking seconds, this time while she makes her way down the aisle, so that he can gather what to whisper in her ear as they sway together on the dance floor, how best he can convey that she walks in beauty.

He doesn't get the chance to tell her on the dance floor, or even to collect his words, because one instant he's about to become a husband, and the next, he's rushing to protect his guests from attack.

"I am going to marry you," he promises, taking his bride's face in his hands, closing his mouth on hers when she gives him a wry smile and an assuring, "I know."

They break apart, and this is it, the last moment they'll be bride and groom before he has to don his Flash suit and she has to leave her magnificent dress behind. Now is the time to tell her.

"Iris," he starts, thumbing her cheeks. "I just wanted to say you're…"

His voice trails. Nothing can encompass her. Even with her loosened hair, her melted makeup, beholding her is experientially rich, can't be described or rendered into words.

"Beautiful?" she tries with a light chuckle.

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead to hers. "Beyond anything I can say."