"My journalism degree." Iris gestured with her cup.
"Four years of school. Graduated with honors. And now I'm writing puff pieces about local businesses for a website that pays me barely enough to cover rent. My dad keeps asking when I'm going to get a 'real job' and I don't know what to tell him."
"Joe means well," Barry offered.
"I know he does." Iris smiled, but there was frustration behind it.
"But he doesn't get it. He became a cop right out of high school and worked his way up. It was straightforward for him. For us it's different. We're supposed to figure out these career paths and know exactly where we're going and I just..." She trailed off, shaking her head.
"Feel like you're supposed to be doing something more," Barry finished.
"Exactly." Iris met his eyes. "So I get it. What you're feeling. I really do."
Something shifted in the space between them. A moment of real connection.
Understanding that went beyond words.
This was the Iris that Barry remembered from the original Barry Allen's memories.
The girl who got him. Who understood things without needing detailed explanations.
'Hmm, let me play this up a bit,' Barry thought and acted immediately.
"I've missed this," Barry said quietly. "Talking to you like this."
'...and the effect.'
Iris's expression softened. "I've missed it too. You've been so distant lately and I didn't know if I'd done something wrong or if you were pulling away because you didn't want to be around me and Joe anymore."
"It's not that at all." Barry reached across the table, covering her hand with his.
"You and Joe gave me a home when I had nothing. I'll never forget that. Never stop being grateful for it. This isn't about running away from you guys. It's about trying to figure out who I'm supposed to be."
Iris turned her hand over, lacing her fingers through his. Her skin was warm from holding the coffee cup.
Barry felt his heart rate increase slightly. Enhanced intellect didn't make human reactions go away.
He was still attracted to her. Still felt the pull that had been there since they were teenagers, buried under years of calling each other "brother" and "sister" because that's what made sense when they shared a house.
But they weren't sharing a house anymore. And the original Barry Allen's awkwardness was gone, replaced by confidence that came from knowing exactly what he wanted.
"So what are you going to do?" Iris asked, not pulling her hand away. "About your job?"
"I'm thinking about leaving CCPD," Barry admitted.
"Maybe starting something on my own. I've been looking into some tech projects. Ideas for inventions. It's still early stages but I think I might have something."
Iris's eyes widened slightly. "Seriously? That's huge, Barry."
"Maybe. Or maybe it's stupid and I'll crash and burn." Barry smiled. "But I'd rather try and fail than spend the next ten years wondering what could have been."
"That's not stupid at all." Iris squeezed his hand. "That's brave. I'm proud of you."
The words hit harder than Barry expected.
Proud.
When was the last time someone had said that to him?
Joe had been supportive but cautious. His coworkers at CCPD thought he was talented but unremarkable. Nobody in his life saw him as someone who could do extraordinary things.
But Iris did. At least in this moment. And that mattered more than Barry wanted to admit.
'Okay...this going better than I expected.'
"What about you?" he asked. "What are you going to do about the journalism thing?"
Iris sighed. "I don't know. Keep writing I guess. Keep applying to better publications. Hope something breaks eventually."
"It will." Barry said it with certainty. "You're too talented not to end up somewhere good."
"You're biased."
"Doesn't make it less true."
They sat like that for a while, hands linked across the table, coffee cooling in their cups.
The morning rush continued around them. People came and went. Conversations rose and fell. But in their corner, time felt slower.
Suspended.
Finally, Iris glanced at her phone. "I need to get going. I have an interview at nine."
"For what?"
"Freelance piece about the Queen's Gambit." Iris released his hand and gathered her bag. "I'm trying to get local business owners to talk about the economic impact of losing Robert Queen if this Journey goes wrong. It's actually a daring speculation."
Barry nodded, keeping his expression neutral even as his mind cataloged that information. Iris was already investigating the Queens.
That made sense given her journalism background and the massive news story. But it also meant she'd be digging into exactly the area where Barry had just made significant money.
He needed to be careful.
"Good luck with the interview," Barry said, standing up with her.
They walked to the door together. Outside, early morning sunlight cut through the glass windows, warm despite the season. Iris stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face him.
"Thanks for this," she said. "For being honest with me. For not shutting me out."
"Always." Barry smiled. "We should do this more often. Coffee and actual conversation."
"I'd like that." Iris stepped closer, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. Her lips were soft and warm against his skin.
When she pulled back, there was color in her face that hadn't been there before. "Good luck with your tech projects. And Barry?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't be a stranger, okay? I know you're figuring stuff out, but you don't have to do it alone."
Barry watched her walk away, disappearing into the morning crowd on Market Street. He touched his cheek where she'd kissed him, feeling the lingering warmth.
That had gone better than expected. Seeds planted. Connection reestablished. And he'd managed to do it without the awkwardness that had defined the original Barry Allen's romantic life.
Progress.
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