A/N: Written for Day 19 of my 25 Days of Westallen Fanfiction event (and the below dedication). I hope you enjoy. This has the potential to get more chaps in the future of just other instances of WA being cute parents and hot for each other. If I get other ideas like that, I may put them here. We'll see. :)

Dedicated to: Mary/tooold-toship (on tumblr) for her birthday!

*Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

It was Saturday.

Iris knew this instinctively, even in that place between sleeping and waking.

Her alarm had not gone off. She was aware of the warmth of the comforter surrounding her, and the quiet pitter-patter of rain drops on her bedroom window was easily lulling her towards the sleep end of the spectrum.

At a time like this, few things could successfully knock her out like cuddling up to her husband and feeling his arms wrapped around her. She reached across the bed for him, eager to take the last step into unconscious bliss, but instead her hand came into contact with bare sheets. They weren't particularly warm either. The sudden bang coming from downstairs in addition to some shushing made her eyes flash open and her body snap up to a sitting position. But the following whispered words that somehow rose to their bedroom informed her there was no cause for alarm.

"Shh, Mommy's still sleeping."

Oh, that's right. She was a mother of two, and today was their Christmas recital.

Reluctantly, she tossed the comforter and sheets aside and slipped into some fuzzy slippers. Then she pulled on her robe, tied it into a double knot and proceeded to descend down the staircase.

"Okay, one more time, guys, then Daddy will make breakfast. A one, a two, a one-two-three-four-"

Iris watched as Barry at first initiated and then silently backed away to leave their twins doing an impressive dance number in a neat line in front of the dining table.

Iris couldn't help herself. She clapped enthusiastically from the bottom of the staircase after they'd finished.

"Mommy!" The twins both gasped, looking straight at her, horrified and then sheepishly away. "Daddy, we're-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, kids," Barry said, coming up from behind them and tousling their hair affectionately. "I'm sure it was your mom missing me in bed that woke her up and not Donny losing his footing and accidentally pushing the couch over, knocking the table down and sending the lamp crashing to the floor," he said, but it was all in amusement and not scolding, even if Don blushed fiercely at the reminder. "Right, honey?" He winked.

But Iris' planned playful response vanished from her mind at the mention of 'crashing to the floor'. Her eyes immediately sought out the evidence of said crash. There were some scrapes on the floor from the couch moving and the table toppling over, but just about everything else looked to be okay. The lamp was set against the far wall though. Iris pointed at it and looked at Barry.

"The bulb shattered," Barry explained. "We can pick up some more when we're out later today, I think."

Don's face was downcast.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay," Barry assured. "Accidents happen. When I was your age, I was knocking things over all the time! Isn't that right, Iris?"

But Iris had a single eyebrow raised.

"When you were his age, Bear? Honey, you still do that." She crouched down so she was at eye-level with her twins. "You guys have seen Dad play baseball, right?" She cringed, and the twins followed suit.

Barry almost mentioned cooking. He was incredibly close to pointing out how at least he could cook. But he figured he could swallow his ego for the sake of the adorable moment unfolding right now with his little family. So, instead he laughed, indulging them.

"All right, guys, why don't I make us all some pancakes? Enough excitement for one morning anyway."

"Yaaay!" the twins cheered, and Iris smiled.

"Come on, guys, you can help me set the table while Dad starts breakfast."

Eagerly the five-year-olds trailed after their mother into the kitchen and handled the plastic plates and cups with care on their way to the dining table. Iris stopped to give her husband an appraising look from head-to-toe. He locked eyes with her, knowing what that look was for. His woman was undressing him with her eyes and forcing him to redirect his thoughts lest he develop a boner in front of their children.

Iris' latest kink had been seeing her husband be such a Dad with their adorable children. He only wished they could squeeze in some alone time before they took off for the recital that evening. He muttered something incoherent after she left, trying to suppress the semi-arousal when her lofty giggle reached his ears, setting off a series of delicious sensations.

"Daddy, hurry up! We're hungry!"

He cleared his throat and shook himself out of it.

"Coming right up, Princess," he responded, enacting his super speed to make this breakfast a speedier one. The giggle from his daughter successfully redirected his thoughts, and for the morning at least, he didn't have to worry about that type of embarrassment unfolding.

…

After a day of some playtime and a few more practice rounds, Barry and Iris prepared their kids for the concert and headed over to the lavish ballroom in downtown Central City. Iris was particularly fussy over their kids' appearances, but the two pristine looking five-year-olds pushed her away when they spotted their teacher near the entrance.

"They look great, Mrs. West-Allen," their teacher assured her, and Iris felt a twinge of embarrassment for herself mixed with pride in her darling children.

"Thanks, Mrs. Beesly."

The woman nodded and took a hand from each of the children in her own, heading behind the curtain and down the long hall to where the rest of the participants were located.

"C'mon, Iris," Barry urged, brushing her elbow. "Let's go find our seats."

She shook off her nerves at leaving her babies and focused instead on her husband, who was looking incredibly sexy and looking at her much the same way she had looked at him that morning.

"Are you sure that's all you want to do, Mr. Allen?" she asked sultrily, sidling up to him.

He chuckled but made a mentally ordered his lower regions to calm down.

"That's all we can do right now, Mrs. West-Allen," he said into her ear. "Unless you want to miss out on our kids' amazing dance routine during the opening act?"

She sighed regretfully. "I suppose you are right." She drew her finger down his shirt till right above his belly button, retracting it when she heard him suck in a breath of air suddenly. "Let's find our seats then." She patted his chest and headed for the concert hall, swaying her hips slightly as she did so.

"That's deliberate," he muttered under his breath and followed her to their seats.

…

Despite the oozing sexual tension between the Allen and West-Allen respectively, all of that faded away when they saw their kids on stage. The other kids performed very well of course, but there was nothing quite like seeing Don and Nora West-Allen dressed as fashionably as their mother and performing as naturally as their father. They blew the crowd away and had their parents gushing.

Iris clapped enthusiastically both times they performed, and after the last hit of the night, there was a standing ovation. Iris had to keep herself from running up to the stage after the encore and handing each of her children a brilliant red rose and a bag of cookies.

"You both did so amazing!" she fawned. Barry repeated the sentiment.

"Yeah?" Don asked, his eyes alight with wonder.

"We did?!" Nora squealed, jumping up a bit on her toes.

"You were the best," Barry assured, smiling so wide it almost hurt.

They each hugged their children, and as soon as the crowd had started to dissipate, they let their precious five-year-olds jump down into their arms and then walk proudly out the door with them, a skip in their step, as they hopped into a limo and went out for ice-cream.

"Ooo, a limo," Don gawked at the sight, both when they were outside and inside.

Iris looked over at her husband, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, wherever did you find it?"

The window partition between them and the driver lowered at the stop light, revealing one Cisco Ramon.

"Uncle Cisco!" the children cheered.

"At your service, monsieur and madam." He tipped his hat.

Iris looked at him curiously.

"It's a side gig I picked up just for kicks," he explained easily.

Iris suspected that wasn't the whole truth, but she let it slide. If she knew her husband and her friend, Barry had rented the limo as a surprise for their kids and had selected not to have a driver because Cisco wanted to be a part of the action.

But she wouldn't pester Barry about that until later. He'd probably silence her with kisses – and there were children present.

"Well, all right then, Uncle Cisco. Take us away!"

"Will do, Madam." He tipped his hat again, making Iris roll her eyes.

But Cisco rolled up the partition again and took them to their favorite ice cream spot in the city where they all enjoyed their favorite dish. At the end of the night, Cisco dropped off the family of four just when the young West-Allens' sugar high was finally starting to drop. By the time they reached their bedrooms – of which Barry and Iris had carried them halfway to – they were both half-heartedly protesting to stay up longer and all but snoring once they were in their pjs and tucked away in bed.

"What a night," Iris said, taking off her jewelry at her vanity.

"Our kids were terrific."

"Mhmm," she agreed.

"Especially Don. That boy can move."

"Right into the couch apparently," Iris snorted, but she knew her husband spoke the truth. She'd seen first hand how impressive her son's moves had been up on the stage during the concert.

"It was an accident," Barry said, coming up behind his wife and placing his hands on her arms. "I think his speed short-circuited for a second and sent him farther than he meant to go."

Iris nodded. The super speed had started to show up in spurts in the last six months. It didn't happen often enough for the children to notice, but Barry had picked up on it right away and the second time so had Iris. It was a point of concern, whether or not to tell their kids that they were metahumans. Iris wondered if they were too young to handle it and Barry wondered if they'd be targeted if it started happening more often and in public and if they couldn't suppress it – or chose not to.

"Let's not think about it tonight," Barry said, sensing where her thoughts had gone. "They did great on stage. The crowd loved them. And they did that just by being them, no super speed required."

Iris turned around in her husband's arms and draped her arms over his shoulders.

"Something tells me they have you to thank for that."

He shrugged. "I liked practicing with them."

She smiled serenely.

"And I love you for it."

She pulled him down for a sensual kiss, one she knew her husband couldn't immediately draw back from.

"You're not too tired, I see," she said when they finally came up for air.

Wordlessly, Barry drew down the zipper on the back of her dress and let the gown to fall to the floor, pooling around her bare feet. Then he tipped her chin up so she could see the heat in his eyes.

"Not for this."

Pleasure shot to the tips of her fingers and toes, and she shot up to capture his lips again, winding her legs around his waist when he lifted her up and placed her on top of her vanity, all manner of items falling to the floor.

With their children asleep just down the hall, Iris was impressively quiet. Barry was less so when they moved to the bed, but by then their children were in a deep sleep. Nothing save a roaring thunder could wake them from their slumber.