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15 days til Christmas.
It was entirely Hal Jordan’s fault. Barry had no problem identifying the end (or start) of a long line of snowballing disasters.
Hal had said the absolute worst thing at just the right volume to catch the attention of the first Flash, beckoning him over with the undeniable smell of mischief and impending humiliation.
Barry hadn’t stopped glaring at the brunette. Hal looked a little confused, but surely he had to know that this was the worst case scenario.
“What’s got you so upset? You should be thrilled, Barry. A little anxious, sure, but what’s got you looking so peeved?” An elbow jabbed into his side.
“What’s got me so upset? What’s got me so upset? My personal hero has invited me over for arguably the most important family meal of the year- Which I will inevitably mess up in some spectacular way, ruining his probably already subpar perception of me, and therefore, never letting me use the Flash name ever again! That’s what’s wrong, Hal.”
Hal only shifted a little. Barry swung his legs back and forth in frustration before pausing. It took a lot of effort but he calmed. He won’t fuss.
“I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Not in front of my hero, and it’s a high stress situation- There’s so many variables.” Hal kept silent, looking at him with a quirk to his head as the speedster wrung his fingers.
“How many variables are we talkin’ here?”
Oh boy, the social cues Barry was sure to miss. They’d fly all over his head with blaring alarms and flashing lights and he’d not just miss them. He’d only realise after he left. He’s late to work and late missing social cues and unspoken rules.
“Everything.” Barry settled on. Finally getting up and pacing back and forth, he’d only managed for a few minutes before Bats started to complain about wearing tracks into the floor. Barry and Hal exchanged disturbed looks, he’s so old. And they’re not that far off in age.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Bear- Haven’t you spent some time with him already? The first-time-meeting jitters shouldn’t be holding onto you still, right?”
Barry would thank his lucky stars the day they actually stopped. With anyone.
“Hal, I still get nervous when we hang out.”
“Oh.”
Five days til Christmas.
Barry sat in bed, surrounded by chocolate wrappers and resisted the urge to cry and also pull out his hair. All of it. Maybe he’d stop feeling so itchy under his cowl if he went bald, but he didn’t want Superman to flinch whenever he took the cowl off. Not the point.
They’d not only invited him for the meal, no no. That would be getting off easy, they invited him for Christmas eve, too.
Barry let out a whimper, muffled by a mini bounty bar.
That means more social cues. Etiquette. When does he arrive? Go home? Will they think he’s rude if he goes to bed early? Will they stay up as long as he’s up? Will they hate him for staying awake? Will they hate him in general?
Barry ditched the chocolates. He’d like to say it’s so he doesn’t give himself a stomach ache, but really it’s so he can curl up under his blankets.
The only problem with his plan to wallow and moan about this obviously world-ending upcoming event, is that the coziness of the warm, soft blankets seem to splay a blanket of foggy sleep over his brain, too, and he’s out like a light.
1 day til Christmas.
Barry needn’t have worried himself silly about transportation. He’d been all packed by the time the Garricks pulled up in their car at 4pm, startling him out of his panic over whether to bring his childhood stuffed animal with him. He shoved him in his backpack before rushing out the door.
In the backseat, he spent most of the drive staring wide-eyed out the window. Taking every bird, every blindingly colourful light, every coca cola Christmas billboard. They wove through roads with walls of snow on either side. It made Barry felt as if he were inside a pinball machine or perhaps he was a very small animal, seeing the signs of something bigger than it. His hands started to sweat.
Discreetly, he unzipped the backpack he’d placed between his feet and dug a hand in. Petting Roo-Roo’s fur always calmed him. Maybe he needed to write an apology letter to his dear lion for petting him with his sweaty palms so often. And his morning breath.
The entire drive was near silent, the Garricks talking amongst themselves- Usually their hushed chatter would’ve made him strain his ears, hoping and dreading to hear a mean remark about himself, yet he only relaxed further. It was like magic, Christmas magic, maybe. He stamped that thought down.
Don’t say something like that out loud, don’t talk out loud, they’ll think you’re silly.
Roo’s fur reddened his finger tips the more he worked himself into a panic about uncontrollable chatter, the friction making them flushed.
But when he tuned back into reality, to hear their muffled but amiable conversation, Barry found himself feeling quite fuzzy. A cotton-y feeling spread just over his eyelids and between his ears. His head felt like when you open the door the morning after the first snow hits. Calm and blissfully silent. Everything became compact. Nothing existed outside this car.
At least, until they pulled up and Barry saw their house come into view.
Past the door, the first thing that hits him is the air is warm, so very warm. Back at his apartment, he settles for lots of blankets and electric heaters to save on central heating. Here? He’s starting to worry about whether he really needed his bedtime sweatshirt.
The next things to hit him are Jay and Joan flurrying about like a snowstorm in a snowglobe. Localised, pretty chaos asking if he’d like a hot chocolate, where to put his shoes, if he needs help with his bags.
He starts to feel that fog again like a bad omen when they start to reassure him that they can come to him about everything- If the room is too cold, if it’s too dark downstairs in the night to get a glass of water, if he needs to use the landline. They tell him he can knock on their door at night, if he needs to.
Barry excuses himself to the bathroom.
He’d started to see kind, fatherly eyes and a dreamy, fragile lullaby instead of the kind couple who invited him over for Christmas because it was probably obvious he’d be spending Christmas day flitting around, dropping off presents only to go home. The heels of his hands are wet when they come away from their place, pressed against his eyes.
Barry splashes cold water on himself, using up his 2 minutes of allotted ‘bathroom break’ he swears by and gets back out there.
After lugging in his Santa sack, Barry locates their tree and pulls out several presents, assigned to the Garricks and the rest of their family, rambling as he goes.
“I didn’t know exactly what to get you, so I hope you don’t mind me getting quite a few things. Every gift has a receipt, so if you don’t want anything, please don’t feel bad and feel free to get rid of it- But it’s not about the money! I’m not trying to overcompensate for the accommodation via presents you might not even like, I just got everyone presents, but- I save a lot so don’t worry about money, just don’t accept the gifts if they’re wrong.”
Jay has a strange look on his face when he glances up and Joan has her hand placed over her sternum, right over a necklace pendant he hasn’t seen yet. He’s upset them. Joan speaks before he can profusely apologise and go home.
“Oh sweetheart, we’ll love anything you get us. Such a kind young man.” Joan gushes and Barry can’t help the quiet, strangled noise that leaves him at the endearment.
Joan tuts, making to leave and promising them both hot chocolates. With cream and marshmallows.
He starts sinking again but he has another hour or so before he can go for a bathroom break without him looking like an insane person. Not to mention he hasn’t even actually peed in there yet. Not that he needs to now. Does he need to? Oh god what if he needs to soon and they think he’s weird and tell everyone.
By the time Joan’s back, three mugs in hand (And really, how does she do that? It's incredible. He says as much and she chuckles- Asking if he has weak wrists to which he nods sagely), him and Jay have settled on a sofa each. Mrs. Garrick places his mug on the small table next to his couch and places her and her husband’s on the coffee table. She burrows into Jay’s side and Barry allows a small smile before gluing his eyes to the tv, which flashes alive onto an advert for some party food.
They browse movies for a while, eventually settling on watching Arthur Christmas and Barry finds himself warmed by the hot chocolate so much his normally tense, fidgeting limbs find themselves loose and, well, still fidgety. But less writhing, painful wrings and more bouncy and languid stims.
He can’t even bring himself to worry about what his hosts must think of his behavior, of the childish way he giggles after every joke, at the way he sadly hums at every upsetting scene. He just hopes they don’t really care about him as much as they care about the movie. His fingers itch for Roo-Roo.
The open fireplace catches his eye at the more tame scenes. Where he can manage on just dialogue without needing to see the bright, 3D animated film and just stare at the licking flames brushing against the black metal. Sometimes Barry really understands Mick Rory. Not on the level of causing a fire, but he can totally get behind staring at fire as it creeps around the area, warm and greedy. Maybe Mick would let Barry hold his hand.
After the climax of the film is reached and their mugs are drained, Barry finds he’s crying again at Arthur's dedication to the little girl he doesn’t even properly know but wishes to see her happiness through despite it all. Joan smiles at him, tears in her own eyes and Barry respectfully doesn’t look at Jay when he hears the gentle rip of a tissue box and the older speedster blowing his nose.
Once again, his fears are squashed in a gentle nature only the Garricks seem capable of, as they turn off the tv and start clearing the tables of their mugs and the cookies Jay had set out halfway through the movie.
Barry had munched on a few chocolate covered digestives and refrained from the rest- He knew he’d bounce off the walls and that was rude to do in another's house.
Watching with wide eyes as Jay drifts into the kitchen, Joan catches his gaze as she stops in front of him.
“Would you like anything before bed, dear? Another hot chocolate? Some milk? Or just a glass of water?”
“Oh! Ah, I’m sure I’ll be fine, Mrs. Garrick-“
“Oh, do call me Joan, and are you sure?”
“Ah, maybe a glass of water? Please?” Barry’s gaze drifts back to the flames.
“Of course.”
“Thank you… Joan.” Barry looks up from the sputtering fire, catching her warm smile.
“Of course, dear.”
Barry spends a while folding the blankets he eventually used to bundle himself in during the movie, a red one sticking out in particular. He thumbs the plush blanket as Joan comes back out with the glass. Barry takes it from her with a flickering smile.
“Oh and dear? Feel free to snack as much as you want on the bowls by your bed upstairs- We’ll be trying to get rid of all this food come new years” She warmly chuckles as she joins Jay in the kitchen.
It’s such a perfect opportunity to leave that Barry almost falters. The thought that they knew about his worries and accommodated him, fills his chest with an exceptionally warm feeling, bordering on uncomfortable. He squirms in place, feet shuffling on the ground, before bolting near silently up the stairs.
At 10pm, Barry finds himself in a staring match with his backpack. It’s propped up against the wall on the opposite of his bed. He feels like he’s about to be asked which pill to take.
He lasts about 3 minutes before he’s bounding over the bed, legs getting caught up in the blankets. He falls with an audible grunt onto his belly, luckily just on the edge of the mattress and leans. Grasping the bag straps Barry tugs and unzips the bag until everything tumbles out.
Seeing Roo-Roo he grabs his fluffy tail and clutches him to his chest immediately- then reaches for the crayons and a colouring book.
He does this most nights, thirty minutes before bed, he’ll turn on his bedside lamp, settle down and colour. He has books for the Justice League, Adventure Time, Hawkeye, in the night garden, Bluey and he especially loves his old, old Jay Garrick Flash colouring book.
It was released probably decades ago. Barry had bought it when he was very young and had always treated it like a very special treat. He’s photocopied most of the uncoloured pages, but still treats the real book with great care.
Picking out a suitable page that excited him but wasn’t too precious of a drawing, Barry started to colour. Hunched over and occasionally snacking on pretzels and chocolates and jelly beans with great care to not get any crumbs or stickiness on the pages or the bed.
The gentle glide, near silent scratches and a structure to mindlessly adhere to soothes Barry right before bed. As he comes up on 10:21pm his eyelids are drooping and he’s feeling warm and cozy. The Garricks don’t seem to turn off their heating before bed- Which makes sense given they’re older and cold affects them more. And Barry certainly won’t be complaining about his sleep sweatshirt being left folded on the chair.
After colouring in three sheets, one being the Flash, and two of Hal as Green Lantern (he may not be dead to him yet but he’s still on thin ice) Barry puts the crayon he was using back in it’s place, in rainbow order, and stacks the colouring books on top of his nightstand.
He goes to the bathroom to wash his face, finds a nightlight plugged into the wall in the hallway and feels oddly loose and happy as he heads back to his room. Slipping under the sheets, he marvels at how nice this has been, and wiggles a little in excitement at the reminder that there’s more tomorrow. And it’s Christmas.
Falling asleep is the easiest task he’s had in years. A faint lullaby, akin to ringing bells, sings him to sleep.
Christmas Day.
It’s snowing outside. Yet, inside, Barry stays perfectly insulated in his blanket cocoon and reaches over for a sweet before thinking better of spoiling his breakfast. He takes a gulp of his water in the hopes that it won’t be long before they all eat.
He’s scared to look down at the foot of the bed. It’s nothing bad, it’s not even scary, but the stocking, full with whatever it is, is making Barry rapidly sink into a younger headspace when he’d really rather not.
He’d been teetering for a few days now, the excitement and memories of Christmas creeping up on him and casting a spell over the childish part of him that still, pretty much believed in Santa. It doesn’t help that Clark still talks about what Santa got him every year.
It had to have been the Garricks, though. He needs to believe that if he wants to stay big and proper whilst he stays in this lovely, generous couples home. But Jay Garrick is his hero. He’s spending Christmas with the Flash. It’s a deadly combination, and God his eyes are sweaty.
He spends his early morning ignoring the stocking and stashing away his colouring books and crayons, hiding them and his lion stuffie back in his backpack. He gives Roo a gentle pet before zipping up the bag.
The Garricks must have heard all the rustling about, a knock on his door alerting him that they were awake.
“No rush, son, get up and come down when you want, but we’ll be having some tea and coffee downstairs before breakfast.” Jay sounded muffled through the door, and Barry found it very easy to imagine himself surrounded by quiet snow.
Letting a few minutes pass before he opens the door, slowly and mindful to not make a sound, Barry stares into the hallway. The ceiling feels higher up than it was before and the banister of the stairs isn’t cool to the touch when he descends. Neither of those things are bad or intimidating. He doesn’t feel afraid or even awkward. Just shy, maybe.
He gets to the last three steps and grips onto the stairs baluster, sliding down to take a seat and peek around the corner. Jay and Joan are unkempt and sleep-mussed. Hair sticking up and bleary-eyed, trying to work the coffee machine. Barry sits back and hides for a moment, eyeing the picturesque sunlit scene.
They move about eachother like a well oiled machine. Maybe machine is the wrong word. Barry watched a shark doccumentary with Avery once, both of them enraptured by the graceful swimming. Sharks gliding next to, on top of, crashing into one another displaying hierarchies. He feels a little like he’s watching a doccumentary now.
Barry never understood people all that well, never got the need for eye to eye contact, nor the subtext in fairly concrete statements. But he always understood body language. Especially non verbal cues after a while of the foster system, where a hand out eventually meant to hand something over, not to put your hand in theirs. They’re not your parents, Barry, hand them the plate.
Jay and Joan move like a murmuration of starlings, like a shiver of sharks, they move with grace and a gentle awareness of each other as the breakfast comes together. Jay brushes his arm and chest above Joan’s upper back to reach the top cabinet. Barry absentmindedly sees a pair of sharks communicating their comfort.
“So, how do you like Barry so far?” Barry’s eyes widen at Jay’s question, clutching the stairs a little tighter.
“Oh, such a nice young man. A tad nervous, but I can hardly blame him.”
“Yes, he wants to make a good impression.” Jay starts taking down jars of jam and marmalade and- Oh god, oh no. Marmite.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with making a good first impression, I think it’s endearing and shows he cares.”
Jay hums with a smile and sips his coffee.
Then the sharks notice him.
But Barry’s not afraid of sharks, so he stands and walks up to the doorway, leaning against a counter.
“There he is! Now, toast or cereal?” Jay puts an arm around Barry’s shoulder, loose enough to step away from if he wants to.
They have sourdough toast with cherry jam. Barry likes it a lot- He spreads butter on first then the jam with a separate knife so they don’t mix and Joan says she’s never had it with butter before he can apologise for using up cutlery. She copies Barry, using the same knives and he smiles shyly when she compliments his foresight. They all laugh when she lets out a pleased hum on the first bite.
“Very nice!”
Joan smiles at Barry when he offers to clear up with her, he feels a strange sensation in his knees whenever he thinks of either of the Garricks doing hard work with their old hands. He doesn’t think them incapable, but he does want to climb up ladders and weed their garden for them. It’s a feeling he’s had frequently but this one feels… Different. Nicer. Familiar?
He finds himself fascinated by the watery soap suds, sliding down his hands whilst Joan dries with a clean tea towl. As the sun rises higher in the sky, the yellow rays quieten down and made the snow on their porch glitter in a more bright, bluish way.
After the last mug is dry, a sudden clap draws Barry’s attention, Jay beckoning him into the living room whilst Joan sets out to gather kindling for the fire later.
“Kept you waitin’ long enough” Jay clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder, smile growing wider when Barry didn’t flinch. “Let’s open some of our presents, you go upstairs and get your stocking, too.”
Barry took a steadying breath. Already, he was feeling a little weepy, managing to keep it subtle for breakfast so they didn’t see the fragile space he was in. Atmospheres like this always made him feel a little poetic and upset, so he composed himself upstairs.
Settling down, they enacted a song and dance of exchanging gifts and pointing out which ones to open first, which ones to leave for later when more of the family arrived. Jay tears open his present from Barry, immediately putting on the woolen hat in a fetching red over his ears. Joan laughs.
“Well that was easy, getting my old boy to wear a hat is like drawing blood from a stone, thank you dear, that’s very kind of you.” She pauses with a mirthful smile, leaning over and cups the side of her face to ‘hide’ from her husband.
“Did you get him any gloves?” Barry brightens, tumbling under the tree to grab onto a modestly sized gift, wrapped in red paper in mistletoe print, with a pretty golden ribbon tied in a bow. Like all of his gifts.
“This one!”
Twin smiles make him tear up a little in happiness and sink a little further into the molasses-sweet excitement and magic settling over Barry’s brain. He found himself less worried about them finding out, the more gifts ripped open.
Joan gasped in delight at a new set of wooden spoons, Barry launched into a tale of a mission the JL took in Germany where he found them in Titisee. Each spoon has an intricate carving on the inside of the bowl. Barry blushes when she kisses his cheek in gratitude.
Barry thanks them profusely for more old Green Lantern comics, telling them he’ll try and get Hal to read them, but John is more likely to enjoy them with Barry than the pilot.
“He says he’s not nerdy enough for this stuff.” Barry says, laughing fondly and thumbing the pages of his new comics.
“We worried a little, getting a few comics that special meant they’re a tad damaged- They’re still good, then?”
Barry took them down a tangent of how he actually quite liked the signs of wear and tear on an old comic. Showing it was well loved and he even had a few issues at home that were practically crumbling, yet he loved them just the same. He managed to refrain from the fact he had almost every Jay Garrick Flash comic published.
Settling into a routine, Joan received a new hand cream set from Jay, the man smiling, proud of himself when she gave him a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. Barry squirmed in happiness when Jay genuinely let out a laugh sounding like ho-ho-ho at the bottle of whiskey the younger man brought. They all had a few more gifts to cycle through, when Barry started to tear open a gift from Joan.
It feels a little squishy, so it's easier to tear at than the boxes or flat presents. The first thing he notices is soft fur, the second is bright red knitting with a flash of yellow. He pauses. Barry draws out from the dark green wrapping paper, a weighted stuffed zebra, dressed in a small, knitted golden age Flash jumper. Running his fingers reverently over the bumpy-soft texture, his eyes can’t seem to take it anymore.
Barry is already feeling unsteady and breathing like the shuddering strings of a violin when he catches sight of a plate of half eaten cookies, carrots and milk. He has a brief, childlike thought of ‘Santa came’, when the floodgates open.
And Barry starts to cry, hiccups and sobs, sounding painfully young wracking through him and Jay and Joan move in on either side like a pair of festive bodyguards that coo and wipe at his tears, rocking him back and forth. He cries out that he’s so thankful for this, that he feels really good and he didn’t think he’d be this happy today, but he thinks he loves them. They say they love him too.
They find that if they talk in a gentle tone, he’ll just get it all out and calm down eventually. Barry wonders how the Garricks have never had kids, remembers his yearning as a kid to be whisked away by the Flash, saved from his foster parents and the tears become a little different. The cooes get a little more gentle.
“Such a sweet boy” Joan dotes, petting Barry’s hair.
“Darling he’ll get younger”.
“Oh please, as if I’m not angling for that”
“W-What?” Barry’s voice had gone gritty with tears.
“Are you okay, Sweetie?” Barry ducks down, hiding his face as it grows hot.
“Yeah-Yeah, i’m okay, what did you mean?”
“… Barry, sweetheart, we know, and it’s okay to feel younger sometimes. We have Alan’s kids come over and they’re the same”
They smile at his confused noise.
“We don’t mind, sport, we’re just here to make sure you have a good Christmas, one not spent alone”
Jay lightly bumps him shoulder to shoulder, the younger man letting a wobbly smile break through.
“B-But what about you?” Barry wrings his hands through the guilty feeling settling over his chest like a nasty cough.
“Honey, taking care of someone like you is something we’ve been asking for, for decades now.”
Barry hums in acknowledgment, finally letting go and settling a little bit more. He longs for his Roo-Roo but he has his Flash, so he’ll just have to settle for twisting the thinly braided hair on the zebra. The Garricks seem content to watch him for a while.
Eventually, Joan dusts herself off, sighing contendedly.
“Well, a little hero like himself can’t be the Flash without his helmet, now can he?” Barry wordlessly shakes his head with bright eyes.
She tottles off into the kitchen, the sound of a draw opening clues Barry in on her making it out of tin foil and giggles a little, tucking his plushie under his chin.
Jay doesn’t let the comfortable silence sour, tucking him into his side with a smile and asking him just about the most embarrassing question ever.
“So, how long have you been the Flash’s number one fan?” Barry flusters, hiding his face in black and white fur. He mumbles into the fabric about how mortifying it is that Jay knows that, now.
Jay says Barry is his hero. Barry springs out of his hiding place.
“What?! You’re lying!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not! I’m telling the truth, Barry, you inspire me.”
Squirming in place, Barry can’t help but let out a disbelieving sound. He knows it’s not nice to not believe people, but it’s so hard when it’s so difficult to comprehend.
“You know, when I first found out there was another speedster in this part of the world, doing good. Savng the world. I was already overjoyed- I thought! When am I gonna get to meet this guy?!” Jay chuckled, wrinkled cheeks dimpling as he smiled, looking down with crinckled eyes.
“Then, then, I saw you on the television. Saw you runnin’ around in your outfit so similar to mine. I was excited already but to hear your name? At first I thought ‘maybe they just call him that’. Then I saw a few interviews."
“Hearing you call me your hero? That I inspired you? That’s a feeling I've never felt before. Just utter pride and joy. Like you were my legacy. My son…” Barry risked Jay seeing the new tears in his eyes in order to stare up in hope.
“Barry… You are without a doubt. Everything i’ve ever wanted in a kid. I would trust very few people to take on my legacy like you have. You lead with… With grace, and determination, kindness and a perseverance very few posess.”
“Not only that, but you managed to pass that down onto a very lucky kid, who grew up into an exceptional man, just like yourself. A kid you gave a whole new world to, a whole new family to. You’re everything a father would be proud of. And I bet your old man is, too.”
Now how on earth was Barry supposed to suvive that without crying again?
“But- But… I got all this weird stuff, too. I’m big, I’m supposed to be big for Wally. Need to be there for him.” The frown on his face feels permanently carved in by now, wobbling his lip and making his chin go all bumpy. Jay ruffles his hair.
“Doesn’t matter if this is how you cope, kiddo. It’s healthy, doesn’t mean you’re wrong, or helpless. You’re surviving in a world that hasn’t been very kind to you. But you still go out there and help this world. You’re not a failure, son, not to me.”
Barry doesn’t know when it happens, but one minute he’s wailing into the open air and the next he’s being muffled by a very soft, warm Christmas sweater.
After a while the crying becomes a comfort more than something overwhelming him, when a big and warm hand is smoothing up and down his back. The occasional pat makes it a lot better, too. He settles not long after Jay places a kiss just along his hairline. Face flushed warmly, he burrows more into the fabric and doesn’t come out until footsteps pad back into the room.
Peeking out, a Flash helmet made out of foil and yellow sticky note paper for the wings sparkles in front of his eyes. Cooing, he takes it gently, placing it on his zebra and giggling before hiding back in Jay’s chest. They make him drink lots and lots of water after his crying.
He doesn’t really have the energy to feel embarrassed anymore, and based on their unabashed smiles, the Garricks don’t seem all that keen to have big Barry back just yet.
They fuss over him just a little bit more before asking him a something he didn’t even think of.
“Did you bring anything for when you’re feeling younger, sweetheart?”
“Yeah…” Barry sniffles. He pauses before peering up at them. “… I can go get them?”
“Feel free, we’d love to see what you get up to!”
He tumbles down the stairs not much later, Roo-Roo out of his backpack and in his arms as he cuddles him close. His backpack with his colouring stuff and mini legos is slung over one shoulder, his bag charms jingling.
The Christmas tree lights make pretty stars in Roo’s black eyes, so Barry stares for a while whilst he digs his nose into his mane.
“This is Roo-Roo.” His voice comes out muffled. “Please dont touch him though, ‘cuz he’s mine and I sleep with him every night” They both nod and he nods back, acknowledging their understanding and proceeds to drag his bag out, too.
The zipper is a chunky plastic zip, so opening it always makes Barry’s ears sing and his hands spark off excitedly.
Not long after, he brings out the colouring books and shows Jay and Joan his pages of Hal he’s coloured. They marvel at how neatly he colours, Jay chiming in to be a little messy every once in while, Barry nods sagely and Jay calls him a good lad.
The Flash colouring book comes out next, he carefully shows off the drawing he coloured in last night, excersizing caution because of it’s aged bidings. Jay gushes
“My my!! What a great job you did, getting all the right colours and all in the lines- How grand!” and Barry’s face goes hot, tucking his nose into Roo’s mane to hide away.
Eventually, Barry is led into the kitchen to help Joan bake some pie and to check on the food in the oven.
“Everyone will bring their own thing, speedsters are bottomless pits and Linda didn’t want us working ourselves silly to cater to a couple of black holes." She laughs behind a hand with flour clinging to her palm and her crows feet crinkle like sand ripples. Barry’s reminded then of how warm it is and gets himself a glass of cold water.
By the time the pie is in the oven alongside the food for dinner, Barry and Joan are washing their hands and folding up their aprons.
“So, Barry.” Joan waits until blue eyes are locked onto her eyebrow, never really making true eye contact.
“Would you like to be big for when the rest come over? Or would you want to stay small?”
“I’ll be big in a minute.” His face scrunches in focus as he goes to say goodbye to his new friends.
Hugging each stuffed animal fiercely, he spends a bit of time raking his fingers through his lion’s mane- tugging out any knots and brushing the fur out of his beady eyes. Zebra Flash needs less of the grooming because he’s all new, but Barry still repeats the motion of brushing black and white hair a few times before setting them gently in his backpack upstairs.
Running back down the stairs has him sheepishly saying sorry to Jay, the older man telling him gently that he’ll trip or fall if he runs. As he walks past, Jay ruffles his hair again.
“If you do that, i’ll never get big again” Barry huffs.
“I don’t think so, you’re already grumpy like a teenager.” Jay grins mischeviously before taking off when the little speedster takes off after him. They end up bundling up at superspeed and taking it outside. Running in the snow, throwing snowballs and eventually making up so that Jay can have the snowman of his apparent dreams.
“He should have a turnip nose… Yeah. Go grab a turnip? Great! And for his arms… Pipes.”
“This snowman sucks, Jay.”
“Yep, definitely a teenager.”
“Ugh!”
By the time the doorbell rings, Barry is back up in his usual headspace- Except this time, he’s not worried or anxious. Even with the knowledge of people coming over, people right outside the door. Instead, he sits with a book, curled up on a sofa.
What will be, will be. Barry hums the tune, snickering when Jay playfully kicks at his ankles.
“Hum a Christmas song! This boy’s just not right.” Barry only rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smile, standing up.
The first through the door are the Park-West’s. Barry finds himself with two arms occupied by son and daughter and swinging in a circle with an exaggerated groan. “Too big for me now, kiddo’s, next year you’ll have to pick me up. instead.”
“Oh, that’ll be the day.” The kids drop to the floor and scatter as Wally grins at him when he enters the threshold- Donned with bags upon bags upon bags.
“Working you like a horse?”
“Oh yeah, I deserve it.”
“What’d you do?”
“Let the kids wake her up whilst I fled to the bathroom.”
“Wally West, I raised a better, more self sacrificing hero than that!” Barry teased, giving Wally a proper hug once they migrated to the kitchen so they could shuck the redhead of his luggage.
He can’t contain a smile at seeing Wally’s hoodie- It’s not a Christmas sweater, but WHAM! on a green hoodie is close enough.
“Is it all food?”
“You know it, I’m excited.” Wally’s grin was audible, though his voice was muffled by Barry’s shoulder.
“Can you help me with the presents, honey?” Wally looks back at the front door to announce he’s on his way, turning back to Barry with a shrug before dissipating like Roadrunner in looney tunes. Barry almost expects Captain Cold or Pied Piper to appear as Wile E Coyote.
Settling back on his couch, he greets Linda warmly, offers her a seat next to him while Jay and Wally try to up one another on how much they can carry, including little Wade in Wally’s makeshift swaddle kangaroo pouch.
After that, there’s about ten minutes between everyone getting settled and the doorbell ringing again. This time, Barry gets up and saves Jay having to grunt and groan his way out of his favourite armchair. Bart shoves past him, knocking his hip and making blue eyes crinkle with mirth.
“Sorry about him, still teaching him manners. You’d think he’d learn.” Max can’t contain a grin of his own and they both go for a hug. Max smells faintly of peppermint and pine.
“It’s fine, it’s Christmas. Good to see you, Max.”
Barry only has time to send Max in via hand on the back before he’s opening the door to Avery, Wallace and Iris.
“Hey! You guys are the last in, take your shoes off and head right in!” Wallace flashes a smile at him. Avery beams with an arm through his and she whisks him into the living area, gravitating towards Bart and the twins.
Barry turns around just in time to feel Iris whipping out antlers from nowhere and forcing them on his head. His startle makes the tiny red bells jingle and he can barely resist a giggle, feeling himself teetering on feeling small before he straightens up again and turns it into just excitement.
“Hey Iris! Come right in, have you sniffed out any stories lately?”
Joan would make a great wrangler. Or maybe a shepherd based on her ability to corral about 8 speedsters towards the dinner table.
She also has a sixth sense for when one of the kids try to get rid of their veggies, swatting at their hands gently with a wooden spoon, just enough to shock them and make them whine dramatically about greens killing them.
Eventually, everyone has high piled plates, plenty more being kept warm in the oven and a substantial amount of vegetables for everyone. Much to Irey and Bart’s utter dispair.
“You don’t mind the veggies?” Barry engages with his seat neighbour.
“No, I kinda like the carrots, especially the ones with honey mustard.” Jai mumbles back. Barry smiles at him, cutting up his slice of turkey and some hamhock to make his own frankenbite.
“Me too, still can’t stand sprouts, though.” Jai nods sagely.
“They’re just so sour. Even with the bacon bits.”
Yes, they are.
About halfway through his frankenbites of turkey, potatoes, apple sauce and carrots, Barry realises an error in his plan to stay big. The betrayal of a warm belly, warm heart and the blessedly consistent heating in the Garricks house. He was rapidly slipping and worrying more and more about whether he’d be able to hide it from his family.
He didn’t want to be little in front of everyone. He felt embarassed of it again, worried the kids would think it was weird or- Or stupid. Worried Wally would be ashamed to have him as a mentor. Worried that he’d be forcing them to take care of him. Did the Garricks feel like they had to take care of him earlier? Was he bad?
His thoughts were cut off by a tapping on the back of his hand.
Frantic blue seeks out calm, knowing green. Wally smiles at him, encouraging and reaches into his hoodie pocket. The last thing Barry was expecting was for his freckled hand to pull out a baby blanket, an embroidered flash symbol on the corner Wally had tugged out discreetly. Barry can’t help but gape at the younger speedster.
Huh, small world.
Wally soon nudges Barry with his foot in comfort before turning back to his plate, pushing all the sprouts away with his fork. He nearly exiled a few onto the table with his clear disgust carving lines into his pale face. Barry’s face splits out in a grin.
They both startle when a loud pop comes from the other end of the table, turning in tandem to see Bart scrabbling for the loot from his and Max’s Christmas cracker. Securing his green crown on his head and reading out a corny joke about claustraphobia, Barry and Wally lock on to the Christmas cracker in front of Barry.
Amongst the cheers, pops and arguing over who gets what, Barry and Wally each take an end, across from eachother and tug. The loud pop sounds less scary when they do it, and Wally finds one of those mood-telling fish that curl up in your palm inside. Their eyebrows furrow at the sight of bright red tissue paper.
The cracker had spat out two crowns. They both pause before laughing at the chances.