Whenever she called, he'd pick up.

She'd sometimes call at three in the morning, mostly after missions that had nearly ended his life, and when he'd answer his phone, she'd chide him for staying up that late. He never told her that he would always be asleep when she reached out, but had a special ringtone for her that would jolt him awake and get him to pray that nothing had happened to her. Because he'd forgo the world, everybody else be damned, if it meant comforting her.

She'd usually just stay silent when he'd pick up, and he'd learned over time that it meant she just needed to listen to him breathing to fall back asleep. Sometimes, she'd mutter a barely audible "Thank God" before that. A couple of times, he had needed to go over to her house because she'd break down crying hysterically, and she'd break his heart along the way.

But this time, when he answered his phone around 3:30 A.M., there was no heavy breathing or panicked crying on the other line, but a deep voice, barely prevailing over loud music.

"Barry Allen?" it asked, and Barry's heart dropped faster than he ran down a building. He let out a constrained "yeah", and the man on the other line continued, "I have a Caitlin Sto here... What?" and it was obvious that the last part wasn't addressed to Barry. The voice came back a moment later, "Sorry, a Dr. Caitlin Snow. I believe she's had one too many drinks, and she said you could pick her up. She also slurred, and I quote, "he's very, very, very, Barry, bvery fast" which is great because we close in about half an hour. Can you make it by then? Club Apotheosis."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm in the neighbourhood," Barry lied. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"Alright," the man said then hung up.

Barry got dressed at super speed and ran downtown towards the bar. The neon lights flashing a block ahead of him got him to slow down to normal human pace. A couple of minutes later, he was surrounded by bodies grinding against each other, and the narrowness of the club obliged him to push people apart to pass through. As the smell of alcohol invaded his nostrils, he recognized, even with the too loud music, the unmistakable laugh of his doctor.

He made his way towards the bar where Caitlin had now switched to arguing with the bartender who was refusing to give her another drink. "Good man," he thought.

"Barry!" Caitlin exclaimed when she saw him. "Did you come for a drink? They make the best, and I mean the best, margaritas."

"She should know," the bartender chimed in. "She's had three of them."

"And he won't give me a fourth," she pouted.

"I'm sure it's for a good reason," Barry said, giving her a pointed look.

"Yeah," the bartender continued, "it's because she also had beforehand two tequila shots, a mojito..."

"Without ice," she put in.

"Without ice," he acknowledged , "and a martini and then started throwing weird long medical terms around."

"Hey! Sternutation is a very common word."

"Sure it is," the bartender said sarcastically. "You Barry?" he then asked.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'll take her home."

"What? No!" Caitlin objected. "The night's still young."

"We're closing in half an hour," the bartender said, raising an eyebrow.

"OK, so maybe the night progressed into adulthood," she corrected herself, "but that doesn't mean I should leave."

"Tell you what," Barry acted as a middleman. "If you can walk from the beginning of the counter till its end without leaning on it, I'll let you stay until they close."

"Easy," she scoffed.

She made for one end of the bar but never made it there. She stumbled after two steps, and Barry, who had been following her closely, immediately caught her.

"I think I should go home," she said before patting Barry on the cheek. "Have fun here, but I think they're closing in like half an hour."

He chuckled. "Both of your 'I think' are correct. Sit down for a minute then I'll take you home." He turned to the bartender and took care of her bill then thanked him for calling him.

"No problem, man," he replied. "She seems like a good person going through some tough shit, and when I asked her who I should call, she gave me her phone and your name. Plus if it were my girlfriend, I would have wanted someone to call me too."

"Oh... No, she's... she's not my girlfriend," Barry stammered.

"I don't know man. For her to think of you when her mind can't think straight, I think that says something about your relationship, be it romantic or platonic."

Barry looked down and smiled, something he found himself doing a lot recently when thinking of Caitlin, before letting out a soft 'yeah' and looking back at her, struggling to keep upright on her stool. "Alright, thanks again," he said and got Caitlin to stand up and lean on him. They made it a few steps before Barry turned back around to the man and told him, "By the way, sternutation means sneezing."

The bartender shook his head, smiling, and said, "You might be spending way too much time with her."

Barry chuckled and waved him goodbye, thinking that yeah, maybe he did spend too much time with her, but there was no other place he'd rather be. He glanced at Caitlin only to find her giving people the middle finger on the way out. Torn between laughing or apologizing to people, he quickened his step, pulling Caitlin along and didn't stop until he reached the outdoors. Caitlin didn't stop, period. She bumped into his back, and he immediately turned around to steady her before she had the chance to stumble. "Careful or you'll fall."

"I'm not gonna fall," she scoffed. "I've known how to walk since I was one. One." He was about to object, tell her that walking and drinking don't go together, that really, drinking and anything else don't go together, but in typical Caitlin fashion, she wasn't done arguing yet. "Have you ever worn heels before? I have. Did you know that? Did you know that I could run in them? Watch," she said like an excited little girl showing off to her friends. Oddly enough, she made it three meters before stumbling, which was three meters more than Barry had expected. He stabilized her staggering form then held her hand and gently started pulling her along as he started to walk.

"Wait." She stopped and glanced around, though he wasn't sure if her mind actually registered what she saw. She grabbed his face with both of her hands and pulled him close. He could smell the faint fragrance of her gardenia perfume masked by the strong scent of whiskey and tequila on her breath. Guess the bartender forgot about that whiskey. She looked at him right in the eyes then whispered, "I see dead people."

He raised an eyebrow. "Alright Cole Sear, that's enough for tonight," he quipped with a hint of amusement, patting her on the shoulder. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" she asked. Her confusion was evident in the small crinkle above her eyebrow, something Barry found adorable.

"Home."

"Noooo!" She started shaking her body, with an occasional foot stomping here and there, like a kid who'd just been told they couldn't get any candy. "Let's go do karaoke."

"Remember the last time you sang karaoke drunk?" he questioned.

"Not really," she shook her head in a childlike manner, and he was afraid the movement would cause her to throw up.

"Anyway, all karaoke bars are closed at this hour. Come on, I'm taking you back to your apartment."

"Can you... Could we maybe go to your place instead?" The vulnerability in her tone took him off guard. But it was one of the reasons he really liked being with her at late hours, when she would be exhausted, with little control over what she says, and she'd let herself be an open book.

"M-My place? Why?"

"It's just that... I don't wanna be alone. My apartment is just big," she explained with exaggerated hand movements, "and... empty. And whenever I'm with you, nothing ever hurts me."

He wanted to disagree. Really, she was kidnapped by Zoom when he was with her, and that turned out to be the most scarring experience she'd ever been through. He hadn't even been able to save her, but she still trusted him. He wasn't going to let her down now or ever again. He swallowed the lump in his throat then was able to get out, "Yeah, yeah we can. Whatever you want."

He carried her in his arms, and she wrapped hers around his neck, holding on tight and burying her face in his chest. "Ready?" he asked, and received a mumble in response, which he took as an affirmative. He flashed them out of the cold street into the warmth of his apartment before he set her down. She stumbled, again, and he steadied her. Again. Man, how many times was she close to falling this night? Not that he minded balancing her, and in the process his hands touching her body and lingering there.

Not the time for that now, Barry, he told himself. Focus on what she needs.

"You're hot!" She poked him in the chest with a finger, effectively getting his attention. "Has anyone ever told you that?

"You just did," he answered trying to ignore the little flutter of his heart at the fact that Caitlin Snow found him attractive, but she had already moved on, not bothering to wait for his answer.

"I wanna be a princess!"

He smiled a fond smile. "You are. You're a self-rescuing princess."

That's when she looked at him with big brown eyes, eyes that would melt the coldest of hearts, expectant eyes that would get anyone to go the end of the earth to grant her her desires. "Do you think I'm ever going to be happy?" She plopped down on his bed, beat, (when did she make it into his bedroom?) but it was the hopeless anguish in her voice that made him sigh. He sat down next to her, and she immediately leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Yes, I do," he fervently asserted. He took her hand in his and started playing with it absentmindedly. "Cait, you're such an amazing woman and you deserve so much. You deserve good things and happiness and love and I have no idea why the universe is so cruel as to let you experience so much loss and betrayal. You have been through so much, and sacrificed so many things, more than people normally do in their whole life, yet you're still standing here today. Well, not literally, obviously, but... you know. I have never met someone as dedicated or kind-hearted or compassionate as you, and if that doesn't mean that you deserve happiness, I don't know what does. Caitlin Snow, you will be happy, and you will be happy soon."

She didn't lift her head. "Thank you," she murmured. As a response, Barry kissed the top of her head.

"I'll get you something comfortable to change into," he said after a while. He went to his closet and fetched some sweatpants and a T-Shirt with "Save the unicorns" written on it. Caitlin took the articles of clothing, grinning at the shirt and declaring it as hers, and went to the adjacent bathroom, emerging later in an oversized dress-looking T-Shirt and incredibly baggy pants.

"They're big," she said.

He chuckled. "Yes they are. But you look extremely cute in them."

"Yes I do," she agreed. She walked back to the bed, but, with a pensive look etched on her face, didn't sit down. "They're annoying... I'm taking them off," she announced, resolute.

Barry was caught off guard. "What?"

A pair of sweatpants was thrown onto his face.

And Caitlin Snow was in front of him, in a loose-fitting shirt, his loose-fitting shirt, legs bare and sublime, hair dishevelled yet sexy, and smile radiant.

Barry Allen was staring. He should probably stop staring. He can't stop staring. Oh shit, he's in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

He cleared his throat. "I don't..." His voice was scratchy, so he tried again. "You should take the bed."

"Not yet!" she said excitedly. "I wanna see who's better."

"Who's... Who's better at what?" he asked, confused.

"Fighting," she revealed as if it were the most obvious thing.

"I'm not gonna fight you!" he said incredulously.

Her mood immediately changed. "You scared of me, huh? Huh?"

"You're drunk! I'm not gonna fight you!" he repeated, but with less assertion. Something about her actually was scaring him, but it definitely wasn't her fighting skills. It was more the face she'd make if he denied her request. And she was just too adorable like that to pass up the opportunity.

"Fight me! I dare you." She put her hands up in fists in front of her, though they were far apart from her and her middle, useless in a real fight.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, one he didn't really mean. "Fine. Hit me."

She did. Or rather tried to. Her fist hit air 30 cm away from his face. She tried again, and got closer... at 20 cm away. Third time was the charm as her fist landed where his face would have been had he not seen it coming and moved.

"Hey!" She put up a chiding finger. "No superpowers."

He bit back a laugh. "I'm not using them!"

She launched herself at him, and the momentum made them both fall. He quickly moved on top of her and gently pinned her to the ground. She stared at him, doe-eyed, and he melted. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break eye contact. He was totally under her spell, and he didn't mind.

"Are you going to kiss me now?"

"Can I?" he asked breathlessly.

It was as if she had abruptly sobered up. "Always."

His heartbeat quickened. He was suddenly hyper-aware of her arms snaking around his waist, of his hands firmly on the ground on either side of her chest, of his legs bestriding her bare ones, of the heat radiating off her. He leaned in and kissed her, savouring every moment, wishing it could last forever, oblivious to the taste of alcohol on her lips.