Title taken from the song Insecurity by Scars on 45. This totally got away from me so I decided to split it up into three parts. This part is the "then" following the singularity. Smut is not my strong suit, so hopefully this is okay.

Then

They've been avoiding each other.

She knows Barry blames himself for what happened and for a couple of days she blames him too. It's his fault Eddie's dead, his fault that Eddie felt the need to kill himself to stop Eobard Thawne. She convinces herself that it's Barry's fault. And it helps her for a little while, but she can't keep it up. Because she knows it's not his fault. She can't really blame him. She blames Eddie. Hates him for leaving her, for thinking killing himself was the only option, that it made him a hero, because all he wanted was to make a difference. Really it's easier to hate him, to blame him than to allow herself to feel.

But it's been a month and Barry still won't look at her. Any time he sees her he turns to leave. It's like he can't stand the sight of her and it physically pains him to look at her and it makes her feel like she's done something wrong. And it hurts more than she ever thought it would.

She can't look him in the eye either.

Because in the darkest part of her she's happy he's alive. Happy that she didn't lose him. Because she doesn't know what she would do if she lost Barry.

They haven't spoken since the night of the singularity when he apologized to her and she couldn't find any words to say to him. All she wanted was to be left alone and to sleep it all off. She wonders if he thought she blamed him then, if that's why he's so distant now.

He was at the funeral. She wasn't sure he would show up, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her and when she turned around there he was. Standing in the back looking completely out of place, clearly uncomfortable with his hands stuffed in his pockets, like he would rather be anywhere else. But he held her gaze for a few seconds and she could see the guilt on his face, could see how sorry he was. She couldn't look at him for that long it was too much. The next time she turned around he was gone.

It's not hard to realize they aren't speaking and she's sure her dad catches on real quick. Especially when she moves back into the house and he moves out. Going through Eddie's apartment, their apartment hadn't been easy. Going through all of his things, her things, their things. Knowing he wasn't coming home. The first couple of days she could barely look at anything without wanting to cry, but she eventually managed to get through it by detaching herself from the situation, by pretending she wasn't going through her dead boyfriend's things. He left the apartment to her. But she knew she couldn't stay there without him, that it would be too much, she didn't want to be alone. So she came back home.

But it doesn't feel like home. Not anymore. Not without him.

She misses her best friend. Misses having him around. His presence around the house was always something she never knew she needed until he was gone. And honestly she just wants him to come home. Even though she's not ready to talk about everything that happened doesn't mean she doesn't want to talk to him, doesn't mean she doesn't want him around.

She's having dinner with her dad when the door opens and he comes in. He sees her at the table and she watches his face. Sees the panicked expression, watches his eyes go wide, he wants to run. Clearly he doesn't want to be in the same room as her and this time she's pissed. Pissed at him and pissed at her father for inviting him and not telling either one of them. But she holds it in. Now is not the time to blow up on either one of them.

Dinner is awkward.

But really that's an understatement. Her father tries to keep a conversation, but it fails miserably, considering they are only giving him one-word answers when he asks them a question. The only time they look at each other is when they know the other isn't looking. She spends most of the meal looking down at her plate moving her food around with her fork, having lost her appetite the moment he walked in the door. She doesn't dare look up when she feels his gaze heavy on her. But when she feels it's safe enough she raises her eyes, he won't look at her when he knows she's watching him.

She watches as he looks down at the table, his food is gone, but he looks ready to bolt any second. That's when she notices how tired he looks and she wonders if he's been sleeping. For a moment her anger fades and she wants nothing more than to help him, to make him understand that she doesn't blame him that she's there for him. But she knows if she tries he'll shut her out because he thinks it's for the best, which is complete bullshit.

Then all of the sudden there's a screech of his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes himself away from the table. She raises her eyes to him, but he's looking at her dad.

"Thanks for dinner," he mutters. "But I should go."

Look at me! She screams in her head. But of course mind reading is not one of his powers. She's convinced that he's leaving because of her, because he can't stand to be in the same room as her. And she's furious.

The door slams loudly behind him making her jump ever so slightly and she continues to pick at her uneaten food with her fork. She can feel her father's eyes on her.

"Iris," her dad begins and that's all she allows him. She throws her napkin down on the table, her fork clattering on her plate. She can feel her anger vibrating through her and she's never wanted to hit anything so badly in her life. But she keeps herself in check, fingers curling into her palm so hard that they probably break skin.

"What the hell were you thinking? Asking him here? Not telling either of us? Clearly we don't want to be the same room. I can't believe you did this to both of us. I-I can't look at you right now. So excuse me, I'm done."

And with that she storms out of her father's house. She feels a little bad for leaving like that and for yelling at him. She's aware he didn't deserve all of that, most of her anger was at Barry and not her dad and it wasn't entirely his fault she knows he was trying to help even if it was a bit misguided. She promises to herself that she'll apologize to him in the morning.

She goes to the bar deciding that she needs a drink. Or two. Or more. So she has a few and curses Barry as she does. This is all his fault, really. Curses him for making her feel this way. For making her question herself, for making her feel like she did something wrong, that it's all her fault he can't be in the same room as her. Somewhere in her alcohol addled mind she decides she needs to confront Barry because all of the sudden she's catching a cab and giving the driver his address.

The next thing she knows is that she's standing outside his apartment knocking loudly on the door. She wants him to hear her, and she doesn't give a shit if he's sleeping she needs to talk to him now before she loses the courage to, before she sobers up.

He opens it not even a minute later and is clearly shocked to see her, but then he shifts his eyes away looking anywhere but at her , the floor, the walls, right behind her, just off to the side. And that's what pushes her over the edge. Fueled by the alcohol she starts yelling.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she screams and she doesn't miss the way he takes a step back from her.

Good. He should be afraid of her. She's done keeping it all in. Done being quiet and pretending that he isn't hurting her, done passing it off as his way of grieving. Because this is fucking ridiculous.

She steps closer to him. "Why the fuck won't you look at me? Did I do something wrong? What did I do Barry?" Finally his eyes find her and she sees the regret on his face, but she doesn't care he needs to know how she feels, how upset and hurt and pissed she is. "Why won't you look at me? Why can't you be in the same room as me? You know I miss you right? I miss my best friend but for some reason he doesn't feel the same way, he doesn't want to be near me. And god, I want to blame you. Blame you for-for what happened, but I can't…I can't fucking blame you even though it would be so easy. I can't hate you either, I wish I could, but I can't. Why can't I hate you?" she finishes in a quiet voice.

She's standing much closer to him than she thought she was, she must have stepped towards him as she was yelling. She's close enough to feel his body heat. And he's looking at her, he hasn't stopped since she started screaming at him and his eyes are burning into hers and all of the sudden she feels sober.

Then before she can think through what she's about to do she's grabbing his shirt in her fists and pulls him just the slightest bit closer to her so that their bodies can touch, he stumbles slightly at the sudden motion, but she doesn't care and she doesn't give him time to question her because she's dragging his face down to hers and she's kissing him.

He's frozen for only a split second and then he's kissing her back, fingers gripping her waist tightly. His mouth his hot and needy and eager all at the same time and she holds tighter to his shirt needing something to keep her steady. And when she tangles her tongue with is she's lost all logical thought.

Holy hell.

Her hands move on their own and for the hem of his shirt and that's when he stops, pulling his mouth from hers and taking a step back.

"Iris, stop."

She rolls her eyes. Something about that kiss ignited something in her and she wants more, needs more. And right now it doesn't bother her that she's thinking about Barry this way.

"Why?" she challenges. "Why do you want to stop?" Because she's pretty sure that considering the way he was just kissing her that he really doesn't want to stop. She knows he's stopping for her sake, but she wishes he wouldn't.

She sees him swallow as he tries to answer her carefully.

"Are you sure we're doing this for the right reasons?"

There it is. And she knows without him saying it that he's talking about Eddie. That he's aware she may be using him when she's not over Eddie. And maybe it's true. She's not over Eddie, and she hasn't even properly grieved him yet and she really doesn't want to. But this with Barry? It may have only been one kiss, but she feels more alive than she has since the day of the singularity.

"I can make my own damn decisions, Barry, I don't need you to decide what's best for me again. I don't need you to try and protect me. I want this. And I know you want this." Boldly she glances down at his crotch where she felt him hard against her. Hard for her. He flushes bright red and she just smirks, pleased with herself. "So please, Barry, just kiss me."

He searches her face for a moment trying to find something that will tell him that she doesn't want this, but he doesn't and she sees the moment when he gives in, when his eyes darken and he reaches for her and she goes to him willingly and then his mouth is on hers, unrelenting and bruising.

He's not holding back and she's oh so incredibly thankful for that because neither is she. His hands don't stay still this time, running along her back and knotting in her hair, angling her mouth against his and sucking on her bottom lip. She moans in to him and reacts by pressing into her and she presses right back. Oh god, that feels so good.

Her teeth tug on his bottom lip and this time he is the one to groan into her mouth. And that's when she decides that it's time to take this further. Still kissing him roughly (it's all tongues and teeth and it's anything but gentle, but she doesn't want gentle, this is exactly what she wants) her fingers close around the hem of his shirt and he doesn't stop her as she begins to lift it up. He wrenches is mouth from her and easily removes it throwing it somewhere behind him and then he assists her with her skirt and blouse all while kissing her desperately in between removing her clothing.

When she's left in just her bra and panties and he in his boxers they both take a moment to stare. Taking in every inch of each other, every inch of bare skin they can see. This is her best friend she's about to have sex with and it's not at all strange. It's not weird for him to be appreciating her like this or for her to be staring at his body with an open mouth.

Their eyes meet once again and his are shades darker than they usually are, burning with desire for her and for a moment she's a little overwhelmed, but that quickly goes away when their hands out stretch at the same time and his mouth finds hers and she's backed against the wall and her legs are winding around his waist and she grinds down on him needing to feel something where she's aching.

His mouth separates from hers and she lets out a whine until he kisses her neck, teeth tugging her skin and she's whimpering and she feel the wetness pooling and she rolls her hips harder against his. That's it. She needs him now she can't wait any longer.

"Barry."

Thankfully he gets the hint quickly and sets her down and then the remainder of their clothing is gone at inhuman speed thanks to him and he has a condom in his hand. He gives her a quick look asking her once again to make sure that she wants this and she gives him a firm nod.

Before she can process what's happening he's lifting her up in his arms and her bare back comes into contact with the wall. Instinctually she wraps her legs around him again heels digging into his lower back as she lines herself up with him feeling his tip against her entrance and she's growing impatient so she rocks her hips against his and then he's guiding himself inside of her, slowly, so fucking slowly. For a moment they are still as she adjusts to him filling her.

Holy fucking hell.

His face is buried in her neck and she can feel his breath hot on her skin. "Fuck," he breathes out.

She feels full with him inside her like this, but it's not enough. She needs more. She pulls him in for open mouthed kissed needing to do something and then they are moving, slowly at first as they get used to each other before increasing the pace. It's agonizingly slow and her nails scrape up and down his back because it's almost unbearable now and she breaks the kiss unable to keep quiet.

"Faster, Barry," she urges in a breathless voice. She moves her lips to his jaw, nipping his skin lightly. "Please, fuck me harder."

He growls low and deep in his chest and she can feel the vibration from her head to her toes and then he's pulling out slowly before slamming right back into and she lets out a whimper, fingers twisting into his hair as he kisses and bites along her neck and down to her shoulder and to her chest.

It's all to much, his mouth on her the way he's pounding into her, her back thumping against the wall, the way he's cursing and whispering name. She's so fucking close, she can feel the pressure building and she's in desperate need for a release. She just needs a little bit more. She lowers one of her hands to touch herself, but then his hand is nudging hers away and his thumb is circling her clit. And she's whispering his name, over and over, between cries and moans. His thumb vibrates against her and she cries out louder, ready to tumble over the edge.

He drives into her, grunting her name as his thumb works between their bodies and she comes fast and hard calling out his name.

It takes her moment to recover even then she's not quite there, but she can tell he's close, his thrusts becoming erratic, but still hard. She does her best to bring him over the edge, holding tightly to him, kissing and biting his neck, rolling her hips against his, perfectly timed. She whispers in his ear, encouraging him to come for her, gently tugging his earlobe between her teeth. And then he buries his face in her neck his fingers digging into her waist and his hips stutter against hers and then he's falling into her, exhausted.

She runs her fingers through his hair as he remains in her neck and she tries to catch her breath.

She can't believe it. They just fucked. She plans on keeping it to herself, but she's impressed and surprised that for someone so kind and sweet, someone who is always so gentle with her can fuck her hard and rough like that. And she liked it. A lot. And it's exactly what she needs, to feel something, to release her anger and sadness through physical contact with her best friend. And she could tell it wasn't just for her, that he needs this too, that he's been bottling everything up.

As their breathing returns to normal he gently lets her down from his arms and her legs are a little wobbly, but now she's the one who can't look him the eyes even when she feels his on her. Shyly, she tucks her hair behind her ear and moves to gather her clothes and get dressed and he doesn't stop her.

"I should go."

He nods and lets her go.

She doesn't regret it, she should, but she doesn't.

Once she's back home and alone in her bed she cries herself to sleep. Because on her nightstand is a picture of her and Eddie looking at each other lovingly. And right next to it is one of her and Barry from before the particle accelerator explosion. She can't look at either of them so she turns the one of her and Barry face down and places the one of her and Eddie in the drawer. Thinking about a time when she was happy, thinking about how she can't even look at a picture of Eddie without feeling guilty, without feeling like she betrayed him makes her cry harder. She knows what she and Barry did wasn't right, not when Eddie has barely been dead a month, not when she knows she hasn't accepted it yet and she's certainly not ready to move on. But god, it somehow felt right.

And she hates herself.

She told herself that it wouldn't happen again. That it was a one-time thing. It couldn't happen again. It was wrong in the first place and they were both broken. It was a moment of weakness. That's all it was.

At least that's what she tries to tell herself.

But the problem is she misses him so damn much. And she needs him to get through this, but he's shutting her out. They haven't spoken since that night two weeks ago, not that she was expecting anything. She knows he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And honestly she's not having an easy time either. She tries throwing herself into her work, but everyone wants an article on The Flash. And she really doesn't want to think about The Flash because that makes her think about Barry and now whenever she thinks about Barry she thinking about him fucking her against the wall. And those thoughts aren't easy to push away.

Then there's the fact that she tries her hardest not to think about Eddie. She should be grieving, she should be a crying mess, and she should be doing a lot of things. Thinking about fucking her best friend is not one of them. The truth is she's afraid. Afraid to truly let herself accept that Eddie's dead and to herself feel his loss. Afraid of letting everything out, afraid that if she does she won't be able to fix herself. It's so much easier to push it away and feel numb all of the time.

She tries to talk herself out of it, but once again her legs and body seem to have a mind of their own because she finds herself outside his apartment door. It's late. But she hasn't had the best day; then again she hasn't had a good since well before the singularity. Since before Eddie was kidnapped, since before she found out Barry was The Flash. And that's what hurts her the most about this strain between them is they were finally working things through, she forgave him for lying and now it was like it was all for nothing.

Her knuckles knock against the door before she can talk herself out of this, before she can tell herself that this is a really, really, horrible idea he opens the door. The surprise on his face is quickly replaced by confusion. She gives herself a moment to take in his appearance. He's disheveled, hair a mess and it looks like he hasn't shaved in a couple of days. He looks exhausted and broken. And at the same time he manages to look good.

She shoves those thoughts away. "Hi."

She steps inside his apartment and closes the door behind her. He opens his mouth most likely to ask why the hell she's here at this hour, but she erases the distance between them and kisses the words right off his tongue. This time he responds right away, wrapping her in his arms, getting her as close as possible. His mouth is demanding against hers, kissing her hard and passionately. Even though she came here, she can feel that he needs this too so she decides to relinquish her control to him.

His hands begin to raise her shirt up and she helps him remove it before the rest of their clothes are gone, scattered around the room. "Need you," he whispers against her mouth.

Her lips curve into a smile. "Then take me." She has no idea where the fuck that comes from her, what the hell has gotten into her, but it doesn't matter.

His eyes meet hers for a moment, like he also can't quite believe she said that, but when she doesn't back down, only holds his gaze he smashes his mouth to her, teeth clashing together, tongues battling, it's messy as he kisses her hungrily. And then he's lifting her into his arms and he's about to carry her to the bedroom. For some reason that idea stops her cold. She pulls away and shakes her head. Seemingly he understands her and changes the course choosing the kitchen table instead. She's a little surprised, but the anticipation is killing her.

The wood is cold against her back as he sets her down, but when his body covers her and he pushes inside her, it's nothing but fire.

After the second time it becomes a thing between them. What's funny is that even though they are physically as close as two people can be, emotionally they are strangers. Things are strained and really it's only physical between them. Neither of them are ready to talk about what happened (the singularity and Eddie, not the sex) though they don't talk about that either. It sucks. It really fucking sucks. And what makes it worse is that they are supposed to be best friends, they are supposed to be able to talk about everything together and here they are unable to do just that because it's too painful.

So when she's having a shitty day she shows up at his door and he doesn't question it. He lets her in and lets her make the first move. Ever the gentlemen. But when she kisses him it slips away and he loses his control and she doesn't mind one bit, she doesn't want him to treat her like she's fragile like she'll break any moment. But he touches her with a purpose and it makes her feel something other than pain and numbness. When she's with him she forgets everything, and it's only him and her for a little while.

They have unspoken rules too.

The major one is no bed. They've fucked against the wall, on the table, the couch, the counter, the floor and even in the bathroom but never his bed. Because that would make it too real, it would make it something it's not.

The few times she spends the night she never sleeps in his bed, instead he lets her take the couch. But that's only when she doesn't want to go home, doesn't want the loneliness to consume her. And when he hands her a blanket he looks at her tenderly, it's brief, but she holds on to it. He's always worried about her even when they aren't speaking. And she's grateful and sometimes it makes her want to cry because he doesn't look at her like that anymore, because they've lost that part of their relationship. When she does spend the night she wakes up to him screaming. Nightmares. She doesn't do anything, just lies still staring at the ceiling tears on her face, feeling utterly helpless. Especially when it's her name she hears him scream. She wants to go comfort him, but she knows that would mean they would have to talk and confront the things neither of them are ready to do. So she just lies there.

The other rule is that it always happens at his place. He never shows up at her door. Mostly because she lives with her dad and she really doesn't want to have to explain it to him. However, there was one time he knocked on the door of course after making sure her dad was gone. She knows it must be serious if he's coming to her, that he must really be having a hard time. So she doesn't ask questions, just lets him take what he needs.

The problem is she uses their arrangement as a reason not to grieve Eddie. She convinces herself that she doesn't deserve to be sad about Eddie because of what her and Barry are doing. She feels ashamed and guilty for turning to Barry so soon after his death, for disrespecting him. And she can't grieve him because of the way things ended between them. She loved Eddie she really did and she would have married him because screw destiny. But now after being with Barry she wonders if it really would have been enough. Because she won't deny there's something about Barry that draws her to him. Even when they're fighting. There's something about him that makes it really difficult not to think about him, but she can't help it, even though she shouldn't be thinking about him.

Some days she wants to talk to him wants to tell him everything she's feeling and for him to do the same, to allow him to open up to her. She'll listen she wants to listen. But despite the need to talk, she doesn't. Doesn't dare disrupt whatever this thing is between them.

And sometimes she hates herself for using him like this. Because she knows he loves her. And she's exploiting that knowing he won't reject her. He doesn't deserve it because this isn't going to end well. It can't. It can't be anything more than fucking. Neither of them are ready for anything more. It will end at some point and she's afraid of what will happen when it does. Will she lose him for good? Will he ever speak to her again? She's afraid to lose their relationship because it's the only thing she can hold on to tightly. But most of all she's afraid to lose him.

Really it's just all so fucking twisted.