The first thing Barry registered was the scent of toast. The second was a persistent, annoying poking at his shoulder.
"Barry. Barry. Come on, man. You're gonna be late."
Barry groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. The soft, golden light of the dungeon core and the silent, terrifying power he'd wielded felt more real than the morning sun streaming through his window.
"Five more minutes," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"You said that ten minutes ago," Billy's voice was relentlessly cheerful. He was already dressed in his school clothes, backpack slung over one shoulder. "I have to leave for school. Mom said if I don't physically drag you out of bed, she's gonna use the 'cold water' method."
The threat of Nora's legendary wake-up technique was more effective than any alarm clock. Barry forced one eye open. "Traitor," he grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "You'd let her do it, too."
Billy just grinned. "See you after school!" He dashed out of the room, his footsteps thundering down the stairs.
Barry shuffled into the kitchen like a zombie, collapsing into a chair at the table. Nora placed a mug of coffee in front of him, the rich aroma a small slice of heaven.
"Rough night?" she asked, her tone knowing.
"You have no idea," Barry sighed, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. "I think I'm gonna quit my job. Just become a professional couch potato. A very, very fast couch potato."
Nora wiped her hands on a towel and fixed him with a look. "Barry Allen, don't you dare start that. A little hard work never killed anyone. It's good for you. Builds character."
"I have plenty of character," he protested weakly. "I have, like, maxed-out character stats."
"Then use them to get to work on time," she said, turning back to the stove. "Your father's already gone for his morning walk. He's more productive before 8 AM than you are all day."
Barry was about to retort when his phone buzzed violently on the table. The screen lit up with CAPTAIN SINGH. A jolt of adrenaline, sharper than any coffee, shot through him. A call from Singh this early never meant good news.
He snatched it up. "Allen."
"Barry, we need you at the precinct. Now." Singh's voice was clipped, all business. "We've got a situation at First National. Get here ASAP."
"On my way, Captain." Barry ended the call and was on his feet in a single motion. The grogginess vanished, replaced by the focused energy of the Flash.
"Gotta go, love you, see you later, bye!" The words came out in a single, rushed breath as he kissed his mom on the cheek, grabbed a piece of toast from the plate, and was a blur heading towards the stairs.
"Barry, your shoes!" Nora called out, but he was already gone.
A fraction of a second later, a gust of wind ruffled her hair, and Barry was back, fully dressed in his CCPD forensic tech clothes, tying his tie as he ran past her again. "Thanks, Mom!"
The front door slammed shut. Nora shook her head, a fond smile on her face. "That boy."
---
At the steps of the Central City Precinct, Joe West and Eddie Thawne were leaning against a patrol car, sipping from paper coffee cups. The morning was cool and quiet, belying the urgency of Singh's call.
A sudden breeze made Eddie squint. Barry skidded to a halt in front of them, looking slightly disheveled but present.
Eddie took a slow sip of his coffee. "For a guy who can, I don't know, run faster than the speed of sound or whatever, you are surprisingly late all the time."
Barry smoothed down his hair, slightly out of breath more from the panic than the run. "Yeah, well, it's called stress. From, you know, saving the world and stuff. It messes with your sleep schedule."
Joe chuckled, a low, warm sound. "At least you boys are having it easy. My ex-wife is in town, and Iris is freaking out. I've had to play mediator all morning. Trust me, I'd rather be dealing with a meta-human."
Before Barry could respond, another voice cut through the morning air.
"Hey, boys."
Patty Spivot walked out of the precinct's front doors, a case file in her hands. She smiled, her eyes lingering on Barry for a beat too long.
Joe's eyebrows shot up. He slowly turned his head from Patty to Barry, a silent, teasing question in his eyes. Did your girlfriend just call us 'boys'?
Barry felt his ears grow warm. He let out an awkward laugh that sounded more like a choked cough. "Uh, hey, Patty. What's up?"
"Captain Singh said you'd be heading to the First National scene. I pulled the preliminary witness statements for you." She handed him the file, her fingers brushing against his.
"Right. Thanks. That's… great." Barry took the file, his mind racing. He needed to get to the crime scene, but he also needed to manage this new, unpredictable variable—a girlfriend who knew his secret.
"We'll, uh, we'll meet you there, Joe," Barry said, grabbing Patty's elbow and gently steering her towards the precinct entrance. "Just gotta grab my kit!"
Joe's knowing chuckle followed them inside.
Once they were in the relative privacy of the hallway leading to the forensic labs, Patty turned to him, her eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and a thousand unasked questions.
"Okay, so I was thinking," she started, her words coming out in a rush. "If you can vibrate through walls, does that mean you could, like, phase your hand through someone? What happens if you run on water? Is it true you can time travel? Can you—"
"Whoa, whoa, Patty, easy," Barry said, holding up his hands with a gentle smile. He unlocked the door to his lab and ushered her inside. The familiar scent of chemicals and old paper was a comfort. "One question at a time. Maybe over dinner? Right now, I kind of have a bank robbery to process."
Patty bit her lip, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. It's just… it's a lot. And it's you. It's really you."
"It's really me," he said, his voice soft. He looked at her, really looked at her, seeing the brilliant, curious cop trying to reconcile the man in front of her with the legend in red. "And I promise, I'll answer everything. But for now…" He tapped the file in his hand.
"Right. Work." Patty took a deep breath, composing herself. The starry-eyed wonder in her eyes was replaced by the sharp, professional focus of Detective Spivot. "Okay. Witnesses say the perp didn't use a weapon. Just touched the vault door and it… melted."
Barry's own focus snapped into place. A meta. This was his other job. The normal one. And for the first time in a long time, with his family safe and his secret shared with someone who mattered, it felt good to just be Barry Allen, forensic scientist.
"Alright," he said, picking up his field kit. "Let's go see a melted vault."