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[accelerate]

[ in a bid to try and remember the memories he has lost to flashpoint — a realisation our fast hero hasn't had yet — barry turns to the realm of fandom. what better way to jog his memory than to write some fic? isn't that what the therapists told a young bartholomew allen? (he doesn't know. this isn't his first piece of memory fan fiction.) ]

[ this graces the network in the middle of the night. ]

UN: BEARY

The air crackles with golden electricity. Slick with ice is the street the Flash skids along, easily pulling himself to a confident standing position despite the ice on his shoes and the slightly poor finish to his run.

Captain Cold stands before him, Cold Gun in hand. His parka covers most of his face, and his goggles are as blue as the fabric. "Hello, Flash," he purrs.

"Captain Cold," the Flash says, a little respectively. "What brings you out so late?"

Captain Cold almost shrugs. "I was bored," he drawls. "The nighttime circuit around here isn't as fun as it used to be."

"You can blame your friends for that," says the Flash. He stand with his hands on his skinny hips, face a blur when the captain studies him.

Captain Cold's lips twist. "Want to have some fun, Flash?"

The Flash shakes his head. "No thanks. I've had enough fun for today."

"Oh well," Captain Cold almost pouts. "Save a dance for me next time. I've got my best dancing shoes on."

"And best dance floor," The Flash nods toward the thin layer of ice on the street.

It's now Captain Cold shrugs. "Call it practice. Giving to the poor what they want."

"And what's that?"

"I'll tell you later," he smirks. "During our next dance."

The Flash doesn't look displeased. Glancing at the Cold Gun and then back at Captain Cold, he nods his head, knowing that this is it.

"See you around, Captain." The Flash doesn't take off immediately, glancing at the Rogue who is almost like a friend. With another respectful nod, he's zipping along the street, a little clumsily on the thin ice as he disappears into the night.

Captain Cold watches him go with a little smile.

Comments

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[eloquentness]

[ Hang on. She could've sworn she was checking the network, not Chronicles of Their Own . . . ]

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[eloquentness]

[ Oh. Nope.

This is definitely the Network, and this is most definitely something Barry wrote. With his own two hands. She's already getting out of bed (and probably making a ton of noise as she looks for her slippers and a warm robe). ]

So... Captain Cold's one of your threes?

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[catchacold]

Don't judge.

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[eloquentness]

Not judging. :|

[ . . . she totally is. ]

It's the cardinal rule of the list. Everyone's entitled to their threes.

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[catchacold]

It's the bad boy phase, almost everyone goes through it eventually.

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[eloquentness]

Almost, as in... implying you never did? 🤔

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[catchacold]

Yknow.

Technically I think I've just finally reached my good boy phase.

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[eloquentness]

Okay, yeah. I'm going to give you that one.

[ Mick is indeed very good people. ]

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[catchacold]

Mid-forties are the new teenager years, who'd have thought.

Do you still write for that rag, because that sounds like a headline for that one.

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[eloquentness]

You might be onto something. They ARE saying 60 is the new 40....

Thankfully, no. I'm freelancing for the Heropa paper now. Mostly metro, but it sure beats our local "Florida Man".

[ She's never gonna be over how she wrote all those articles, only to find out her Florida Man was James Jesse. And during Roguesgiving, no less... ]

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[catchacold]

That would also explain why the Flash still looks like he's twelve.

I have to keep better track of your work. You write under your name, right?

Maybe you can give the author of this piece a bit of a lesson on good prose. I sense there's room for improvement.

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[accelerate]

HEY!

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[accelerate]

[ ... ]

I don't know whether to be offended by this so continue on
I'll feedback once I know

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[eloquentness]

Yeah, never bothered with a pseudonym.

The author did just fine. Could love the Flash a little more, but I think that'll come with time.

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[accelerate]

Of supervillains?
Maybe. I'm still reconsidering since I actually really like Heatwave. He's got great dad jokes.
And Lego Joker. I just want to ask him how to build stuff and if I can step on him.

I mean I'm definitely sure of
1. Beyonce
2. Iris
I flip flop on the third. Alessandra Ambrosio seems way out of my league.
And now I realize we're not exactly sharing lists.

ERASE MESSAGE.

[ did you know you can't just type that action in and expect it to happen, right? ]

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[eloquentness]

No!! Don't take that back!!!!

[ If she weren't so busy heading towards his room (and probably murmuring 'owwww' as she runs into something), she would've written a heck of a lot more. As it stands, she hastily adds: ]

Sorry about the lamp.
(It clashed with the room anyway).
I'll share mine ASAP. Just. Don't take that back, ever.

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[accelerate]

Okay, I'll keep my supervillain list. I might have to write it in pencil.

[ is he being purposefully obtuse? 80% chance, yes. he may be busy hiding the packet of crisps he bought for iris and ate himself, but he can still type. #theflash ]

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[eloquentness]

Fine, whatever. We can keep supervillain lists.

FTR, my list is:
1) Barry
2) Barry
3) Did I mention Barry???

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[accelerate]

How did I now know you liked Barry Gibb?
I would pick Barry Watson, too. i had this crush on him during 7th Heaven that made my stomach hurt.

[ that was jessica biel, but he can stretch the facts. ]

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[eloquentness]

Uh-huh. That was totally why you bought those magazines of Jessica Biel in 8th grade... because you were into your nametwin.

[ she'll give him this one. Maybe. ]

btw, I may have an extra bag of Cheeto's for him. If he wants it.

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[accelerate]

Barry Gibb should probably not be eating Cheetos. How else is he meant to hit the high notes if he's all Cheeto'd up?

Barry Allen should eat it for him.
You know. He's a big fan of the Bee Gees.

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[eloquentness]

Huge fan, right? In that case, he can take the extra bag. :)

[ There's a knock at his bedroom door, though considering all the commotion outside, it's not really surprising Iris is on the other side. She is, however, holding in her hands an extra-large bag of Cheetos from her secret stash. ]

» action

[accelerate]

[ hanging off the bed in the desperate attempt to hide the packet of chips underneath his bed (and the chocolate wrappers and the party-sized bottle of coke in a drawer), barry tumbles to the floor when iris appears in his room. in his attempt to play it cool, he sprawls on his stomach and then presses his hands flat against the carpet. he's trying to make her think he was doing push ups, even though his legs are all akimbo. ]

Hey. [ the smile, though, isn't forced. pushing himself up to stand, he brushes his hands together. ] Oh my god. You weren't lying about the Cheetos.

» permaaction

[eloquentness]

[ Oh, Barry...

Iris desperately holds back a laugh as she holds out the bag. It's family-sized, as opposed to the usual size, just because she'd intended on handing it over to him at some point. ]

Yeah, I usually keep an extra bag around in my secret stash. [ She pauses, closing the door behind them, ] Which, for the record, totally didn't exist before tonight.

[accelerate]

[ dropping onto the edge of his bed, he opens the packet, finding those hungry nerves of his quieten at the mere sound of the packet sighing. he holds it out for her, all open and inviting. ]

You totally had a secret stash before today. I know. You know. I know you know that I know you had one and thought I didn't know. [ he shakes the packet. it's going to be empty in five minutes, so she might as well as grab as many cheetos as she can. ] It's okay.