Soothsayer ⚡ Barry Allen

Nightmares of All Kind

I woke up in the middle of the night to pain. It wasn't bad, but it was enough to rouse me. I was faced away from Barry, my eyes unable to focus on the alarm clock before I looked down to my wrist. His arm laid over mine, his fingers curled tight around my small wrist. I carefully turned over, shocked at the pain and fear in Barry's expression. I'd seen both on his face before, but never to this extent, never this intense. I gently put my hand on his face, retracting a fraction when he flinched.

Pursing my lips, I returned my hand to his face, brushing my thumb under his eye. "It's alright, Barry," I softly whispered. "I've got you." His grip tightened further on my wrist, his eyebrows pulling together and increasing his look of pain. I sat with him for a few moments as his body twitched, he mumbled stuff, and his hold actually became painful. "Hey," I sighed, raising my voice a bit as I tried to wake him. He was only getting worse as time passed, I wouldn't let him suffer for long than he had to. "Barry."

When his eyes opened, he was slow to process me, his breathing shallow and hard, his hold on my wrist stronger than he'd ever held me. He looked me over a moment before hesitantly releasing my wrist, slow to meet my eye again. "I-I'm sorry," he breathed, turning to lay on his other side. With a light breath, I laid my arm over his shoulder and ran my fingers through his hair; it was still damp in patches.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," I assured, my tone caring. "Are you alright?" It was hard to tell, but he was gently trembling, whatever he had dreamed up had gotten to him. When he didn't answer, I deepened my hands movement through his hair. "I want to help, Barry. But I can't if I don't know how." I could feel him take a deep breath, his trembles increasing eversoslightly. He still didn't respond, though, so I relaxed as I spooned into him, trying to keep my irritation at bay as I ran my fingers through his soft curls.

For a while, I started to think that the dream he told me about had gotten it backwards. Just about every oppertunity I had, I was open with what was causing my distress. However, when it came to Barry, he was about as open as the cement walls of Blackgate. I pressed a lingering, promising kiss to his back, mumbling, "I can't help you if you won't let me, mátia mou." But he still didn't respond, gently grabbing my hand from his hair and laying my arm over his torso, his hand wrapped tight around my fist.

"I'm fine, Andy," he assured, though it wasn't very assuring. So, instead of causing an argument at whatever ungodly hour of the morning it happened to be, I silently watched the back of his head. If he was anything like me, the weight of my stare would start to bother him, and he was like me, but only in the good ways.

And eventually it did. Bothered him so much he let go of my hand and got out of bed. He ran his hands over his head as he walked out of the room, his fingers locking behind his head and his folded arms covering his face. After he left the room I sighed heavily, turning away from his side of the bed. I curled around the blanket in replacement of his body, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the cold creeping under the fabric. There weren't many windows in our place, but there was one in our room, and though my eyes weren't open, I could see the daylight pouring in.

By the time Barry padded back into the room, I was curled in a fetal position with a less than pleased expression, upset at the fact I lost at least an hour of sleep wanting him to tell me what's wrong. He didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me when he sighed. He padded back around to his side and slid under the blanket behind me, the first touch he gave me was his lips on my shoulder. They stayed there for a long moment before he scooted closer and rested his arm over my side. Judging by the weight of his hand, he had brought a book with him. My thoughts were confirmed by the flick of a turned page every now and again.

I couldn't take it for long, each flick drove me up the wall. The fact that he was able to work himself through whatever it happened to be better with a book than he could with one of his biggest sources of affection and understanding was maddening. So, after about half an hour more of silence broken by turning pages, I stirred under his arm. Placing another self-repairing kiss to my shoulder, he moved his arm off of my side, opting to now drift his fingers over my back. Rolling my eyes, I sat up and stretched, noticing his new habit of keeping at least the smallest bit of physical contact between us since he trailed his fingers down my back as I moved and kept them at the small of my back.

"I need coffee," I excused, standing from the bed.

"I can go?" he offered. With a look over my shoulder, I could see Barry set down his book and, finally, gave me his attention.

"I need the walk," I shook my head. I pulled on some pants and a sweater, making sure to give him a soft smile before I left.

⚡

I somewhat patiently waited, getting my current java fix off of the heavy aroma in the air. My eyes didn't really focus on one thing until I found a pair of stunning green eyes. After matching them to their face, I reminded myself they were brown, happening to spot Iris the same moment she spotted me. When we first met, her focus wasn't really on me, but I was able to pick out the skepticism in everyone who met me. It was very subtle two months ago, but it was alive now. Didn't even look like she was trying to hide it.

I let my eyes drift away from her, keeping her slender, determinded figure in my view as she approached me. "Hey. Andy, right?" I looked her over one and nodded with a small smile.

"Right, Iris," I confirmed. "Congrats on the job."

"Thanks," she nervously laughed. Well, that was her reason for coming over. Odd, thought it'd be about Barry. "Do you have any time?" I took a breath and looked over Jitters, it was the morning rush, there were about fifteen people who ordered before me, half of which had been served yet.

"It'll be a bit before they call my order. I have to get going soon after, so you have the time in between," I informed, not wanting to obligate myself to more civilian socialization than I had to.

"Yesterday there was a Metahuman attack on Interstate 71. The Flash was there, someone else who took out the Meta was there, and you were there." Iris turned her phone around, showing me a decent picture of my unruly waves, my terrified expression, and a blue streak that was Barry. "Do you work with the Flash?"

I backtracked a whole step; it was one thing for the criminal underworld to know that I was working with him, but if any sort of press got ahold of me, I'd be screwed worse than any pooch. "Um, completely off the record," I cleared quietly, waiting for her nod to continue, "it was a one time thing. The Meta...she was my family." Iris's demeanor took a quick turn, her regret for asking pushing away her inner journalist.

"Oh, I'm sorry." With a deep breath, I shook my head and felt a miniscule curl to my lips.

"It's fine. In the end, we did the best we could for her." I perked up at my name and watch a resolve slowly take her expression hostage.

"How's Barry?" she quickly tacked on, lightly touching my elbow to keep me from going just yet. "I haven't heard from him any..." I put a hand over hers and thought up an honest enough answer.

"He isn't perfect, but he's in good hands." I watched a small smile tug on her lips before excusing myself, grabbing the coffee and breakfast and making quick work to avoid further contact with Iris as I left.