#chasingblue writes stuff

Yesterday we made the decision to re-imagine our wedding. I say reimagine because we have been told my several that we could change the date, have the wedding we planned, and I know that, but at the end of the day, I like the date we picked, and most importantly, I love him. The thing I want most is to be married to him, for him to absently call me his wife without having to backtrack or clarify, for it to be accurate every time I think of him as my husband, for him to wear the simple tungsten band we picked for him, and for us to continue forward in this life we decided to build together. Our marriage has always been the most important part of our wedding, and so a global pandemic can’t and won’t change that.

But still, my heart hurts. It hurts to think of the friends we won’t have there on our day — my dearest friends from college, my state officer teammates, our coworkers at school, the guys we play Magic and board games worth. It hurts as I think about the family members we won’t get to hug that day, even as I try to narrow and narrow the list of people I feel I can’t do this without.

The thought of my aunt and my cousin not being there, the only family I have left on my dads side, is overwhelming. Planning my wedding without my dad being there has already been too hard, but to not have the last people who loved him as I do there that day? I’m crying just thinking about it. And yet, if it comes down to it, that’s a decision I’ll have to make.

We go back and forth — if we’re going to have a ceremony in our backyard, with our huge deck, a house, a garage, how many is the cut off? 40 feels like too many, with our siblings, parents, wedding party, the few other relatives my survivalist feelings told me I couldn’t do without . So who to cut? My brother’s new girlfriend? Sure. My brother-in-law? I couldn’t. My grandmother, one of my favorite people in the whole world — will it even be safe for her to come? We could cut our readers and their significant others: two dear friends from work who have been there for us since we started teaching, they’d understand. But who next? The groomsmen that are my fiancé’s dear friends, but not family. Then do I cut my two cousins, who are bridesmaids? But I have so much more family than him anyway, is that fair?

There are so many questions. Will the hall let us push the date? To have a one year anniversary reception, which is our plan? Will the caterer? We’re now too close for our cancellation windows, but surely a reschedule for not-pandic times seems fair? Will I be able to get my wedding dress altered? Will my plain, worn down hair look okay? Will I be able to go to a store and buy M the special bottle of whiskey I’ve been promising him as his 30th birthday gift, all while secretly planning it as a wedding gift for almost two years now?

There’s also anger, not about the wedding but about the world. I am so frustrated by all the people dismissing what’s happening, belittling those taking this seriously, visiting friends and acting like this is no big deal. Damn it, grow the hell up, shove your conspiracy theories and politics aside and be a neighbor, be a friend, be anything but a selfish d-bag who thinks wearing a mask to the store is oppression.

I know in the grand scheme of the world, my wedding doesn’t matter that much, and I know thinking about it doesn’t exactly make me selfless, but this is my little piece of the internet, public but not out in public, so I’m going to be selfish right here.

I know I’ll get married, I know it will be it’s own kind of lovely, I know we’ll have a big celebration in the future, and we’ll be happy and together and that’s what matters. But still, the little piece of me I try to keep hidden from my dear fiancé (who is also struggling with this all himself), is so sad for the day I don’t get to have, the plans I have to change. For the younger woman who thought she would never have that day, while she made it happen for her friends, her sisters, happy but always just a little lonely too, who now will not have the day she expected and finally thought would come true.

Again, I know a wedding is not a marriage, but it’s still a dream we made together, my love and I, and hurts to let it go for something so outside our control.

notes | Basically just a silly, friendship fic related to mother’s day, for all the mother hens of their friend groups.

title | a co-opted holiday

Caitlin walks into the lab on a mid-May Monday morning to find a vase of flowers at the corner of her desk, a prim white envelope propped up beside the vase, with her name written in a deceptively careful hand and a still warm chai latte next her to keyboard. Brow furrowed, more than a bit confused, she hangs her light spring jacket on a hook by the door, and then crosses the room to investigate.

The flowers are a mixed bunch, an assortment of lilies and daisies and greens, in a simple, round glass container with a ribbon tied neatly around the middle, pretty enough that she ignores the card for a moment to breathe in their light, refreshing floral scent before trying to get to the bottom of the gift. Smiling, she settles into her chair, reaching simultaneously for the latte and the card. With a sip of caffeine in her, she abandons her second attempt at puzzling out the script on the envelope and instead slides a nail beneath its edges, tugging it open with the kind of slow, painstaking precision that she knows typically drives Cisco absolutely crazy.

The front of the card itself is fairly nondescript: just tan paper with embossed outlines of what look to be dandelion seeds and not a single word to hep hint at what the card is for. Sighing, still puzzled, Caitlin tugs it open and can't help the way a smile blossoms across her lips as she reads the message inside.

"Happy (belated) Mother's Day, to the woman who keeps all of us in line when we're acting like children. You're the best Cait and since there's no 'best friend who saves my sorry ass' day, I figured I'd co-opt this one. Forever grateful, Barry."

Laughing Caitlin tugs her phone from the pocket of her skirt and nimble, practiced fingers have it dialing Barry's number before she can even so much as look at the screen. She's still laughing a moment later when the sound of his ring tone echoes in the doorway behind her, startling her and causing her to turn.

There's a hint of anxiety about his expression as he traces the curve of her smile but it dissipates a second later, clearly relieved by what he sees. "Oh good," Barry breathes, "I was a little worried it wasn't funny."

Her head shakes and she starts to cross the room, card still clutched between her fingers even as she reaches out for a hug that Barry gladly returns. "It wasn't," she says, smiling into his neck, "It was actually really sweet."

He's beaming when she pulls back, maybe a little surprised. "You do so much for me Caitlin, for all of us," his attention sweeps around the immediate lab, but they both know he's talking about so much more. “I wanted to do something for you. I know we tease you about being a mother hen sometimes, but you know we couldn’t do what we do if you weren’t. I just wasn't sure if the mother's day thing was going to actually be funny or not."

Her eyes roll slightly, impossibly fond and then Caitlin pitches forward onto her toes to press a kiss to his check. "Definitely funny, but also very thoughtful. Thank you Barry."

Barry grins and he nods and then they settle into their work, but every now and then he'll spot her looking at the flowers, wistful, warm smile seeping into every aspect of her expression, and he feels stupidly pleased to have put it there.

notes | Today’s Snowbarry Spring Day 2 fic is a bit more dramatic and probably a bit more cliche: but who doesn’t love a storm and a fight and a rain soaked first kiss?

title | feel that much

"Caitlin, wait!" It should be exactly what he wants, when she stutters to a stop and turns around in the middle of the parking lot, but when her dark eyes find his, the fury he finds there leaves him reeling.

"What Barry?" She shouts, fierce and forced as she glares at him through the curtain of pouring rain that's falling all around them.

A lesser man would fumble. Barry feels the urge crawl up his spine, a tiny little voice saying he should just let it go, let her be angry, but Barry Allen is not a lesser man and, more importantly, Caitlin Snow is not a lesser anything. He screwed up, he knows it and he's going to own it.

"I'm sorry," falls out as easily as breathing, the words emptying his lungs and his conscious as he takes a step forward, determined to lessen the gap between them. "I screwed up and I should have never gone after Cicada myself." The sound of her scoff is familiar enough that he wants to smile, but she's still looking at him like she never wants to again and he cannot possibly live beneath the ghost of that expression, so he continues. "I thought I was being noble, putting myself between you guys and him, and I know I should know better but..."

notes | Happy Snowbarry Spring! My Day 1, Road Trip fic is more fluffy, adult new beginnings than playful young love than I’d originally planned but here you go!

title | new beginnings [with minor setbacks]

"Maybe we should just call Cisco?"

Not that Barry doesn't cut an attractive figure, leaning over the engine of her car, the sleeves of his button down rolled up to his elbows with grease streaking his fingers (and smudging his forehead where he'd gone to run a hand through his hair only to remember at the very last second that he shouldn't), but they've been waylaid at the side of the road for a good half an hour now and she's pretty sure he's no closer to figuring out what's wrong than he was when the engine had shuddered and died.

"I think I've got it figured out," he replies, voice a little muffled as he leans in closer and projects to an engine that wouldn't actually hear him even if it wasn't quite thoroughly dead. He sounds unreasonably confident for all she's watched him frown and furrow and flick through websites the last thirty minutes, and it's endearing enough to watch him try and muddle through, determined to fix it himself, but it's getting late and for all its a gorgeous, practically balmy spring day, it’s going to start getting chilly and she’d really would like to get home soon.

Judging by the flutter against her stomach, so too would the reason they'd taken this road trip in the first place.

Smiling absently, both at the baby's movement and the way Barry is tugging at something beneath the hood, she shakes her head and ducks into her open passenger door for a drink of water, leaving him to it. After a brief moment of debate, she also surreptitiously sends an SOS text to Cisco. His reply comes almost immediately, letting her know he's on his way and Caitlin can't help but smile all the wider at that: they've been away on a trip to Star City for the last four days, wanting to share their news in person with the rest of their superhero family and she's pretty sure Cisco's been missing them, if his quick replies and constant snapchats are any indication.

Not that he doesn't love the rest of Team Flash, to be sure, but he's been keeping a much closer eye on them since Caitlin and Barry announced their pregnancy, hovering like the anxious brother they both consider him to be.

Help on the way, Caitlin sidles back toward the front of the car where Barry looks lost again, mouth tipped into a frown as whatever he'd been looking at clearly hadn't panned out. For a second, her heart swells fondly in her chest, a little mesmerized at the way life has gone the last few years and then she shakes her head and presses against his back, burying her face between his should blades so she can breathe in his familiar scent.

"Cisco's on his way," she tells him, grinning into the fabric of his shirt when Barry sighs a little and drops his hands away from the engine.

"I could have figured it out," he insists, with no heat to the comment. Caitlin just laughs and lets him turn in her grip so that he's facing her, fingers wiped hastily on his jeans so he can return the hug. "But I guess this'll get us home sometime this week."

Eyes rolling, Caitlin leans up on her toes to press a slow, lazy kiss against his sheepish smile. "Was that so hard to admit?"

Barry catches another kiss instead of answering, but she can feel his grin against her own mouth and takes that for answer enough.

It's maybe not the expected end to a nice, brief semi-vacation with their friends, but it's probably the one they really should expect. Nothing about their lives ever goes perfectly smoothly (they'd gotten together because someone had tried to kill her, Barry had proposed from her medical table, she'd told him she was pregnant on accident, during a fight) but so far it's managed to work out for them, so why should this really be any different?

"How long do you think we've got until he gets here?" Barry asks suddenly, something mischievous brightening the formerly petulant cast of his gaze.

"What did you have in mind Mister Allen?"

notes | I was feeling some littles feels (because everyone in my life is having babies), so I wrote something in my Life Happened verse. Enjoy little Lily cuteness!

title | taking turns

There's a little divot visible across Lily's brow as she stares at Licorice and wiggles a long section of ribbon in her small hand. The cat pays her absolutely no mind, just stretches a little and inches closer to the sun warmed glass pane of the patio door, completely unconcerned with the almost five year old he's upsetting.

Lily huffs, scowling and turns her fierce brown gaze to where her mother is curled against the couch, book in hand, watching the scene silently across the pages she stopped reading a minute ago. "Mama," she interrupts, loud and heedless and impatient in the way that only children can manage to be without actually being mean about it.

Still, Caitlin doesn't respond, just raises her brows a little and glances at her daughter, who huffs again and then tries again, this time her tone softening and calling out a question instead, "Mama?"

notes | I’m definitely drowning with the real world a little bit, but here’s some absolute soft fluff to combat reality. Enjoy :)

title | the best thing

Her smile is like sunshine breaking through the clouds; a bright patch in an otherwise dark storm; a calm port amidst a churning ocean and even when it's tiny and absent and directly entirely at her computer screen, he drinks it in, reveling in the warmth of her.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he says one night, when they're both up to their elbows in their respective forms of paperwork and the late hour and the easy camaraderie and the companionable silence leave him feeling particularly honest. He's been watching her from the corner of his eye for a while; his reward every time he finishes a page in a case file a brief glance at her focused furrow and a moment to be washed away by the steady click of her fingers against the keyboard. It's like a balm for his world weary soul and it leaves him incapable of maintaining his long wrought silence on the subject.

Caitlin looks up, that furrowed brow deepening a bit, completely distracted. "What was that Barry?" she asks, sparing him the warm corners of that sunshine smile.

He just beams, bright and easy and unabashed, and repeats himself without a single moment of hesitation. "You, Caitlin Snow, are the very best thing that's ever happened to me. More than my powers, more than saving the world or running through time or anything else."

He says it with the kind of easy conviction that takes absolutely no effort or thought: the words just fall out of his mouth on a breath of air, like they've been just been waiting for him to exhale them into being.

Bemused, Caitlin smiles more softly at him, watching him with a thoughtful, appraising sort of expression that he feels right down to the ends of his toes.

"I think," she starts, slower than him and more halting, but not any less sincere as the warmth from her smile wraps around the words themselves, "that you might just be the very best thing that's ever happened to me to Barry Allen."

His chest swells, tight and overwhelming and the very best kind of not quite suffocating and all he can do is look at her like she hung the stars, enamored in very single way. The look she trades back reads the same and they bathe in it for a long moment before they trade a ridiculous grin and then turn back to the work they've been doing.

Just like that Caitlin's typing away and Barry's scratching out data and there's no more words between them, just the occasional shared look and a wealth of private smiles. Barry works his way through a week and a half of backlogged case reports and Caitlin catalogues the particulars of this weeks meta human villains and it's almost an hour later that they finally start winding down. Barry flashes around the room, shutting off monitors and computers and double checking their security protocols while Caitlin saves her files and by the time she stands up, he's waiting by her side with her coat held out, beaming down at her. "Ready?"

notes | Just kind of a silly little scene, warm friendship and hints of maybe more? Title from How Does a Moment Last Forever Montmartre from Beauty and the Beast, which, though short, is what I decided Caitlin was singing in the start of this scene, because I just saw Beauty & the Beast and it was amazing.

title | in this crumbling

Caitlin's singing when Barry walks into Star Labs one afternoon, his feet all but silent as they tread the familiar path through the winding hallways to their main work area. Because she's settled at her computer, working on cataloging something, she doesn't even realize he's in the room until it's too late, completely caught up in her song and the rhythmic tap of the keys beneath her fingers as she navigates through the database she's created on all the metahumans they've encountered. Despite her time on Team Flash, despite the too many instances of someone taking advantage of them (of her), she's totally unaware of Barry right up until the moment that he's leaning over her shoulder, opening his mouth to ask her a question and the resulting surprise leaves her jumping wildly in her chair, hands flying off the keyboard and backward.

One of said hands runs smack into his nose with no small amount of force (he sometimes thinks, as he's watching her work or stand up to some villain or sew him back together, of that Shakespeare line 'though she be but little, she is fierce'). It leaves his nose erupting into a fountain of blood that has her startling again, this time to her feet as she tosses out wild, exasperated apologies, clicking rapidly over to the med table where she begins to dig for cotton and cloth. "I'm so sorry Barry," she breathes, a little ragged, meeting him in the middle of the room with a clean white cloth, which he takes, and then moving away again to tug out a bag of ice from the freezer.

It's not a minute later that he's settled onto a chair, head tipped back with the cloth pressed below his nose and a bag of peas (they are, once again, out of ice) sprawled across the bridge of his nose. "It's okay," he mutters, thick around the injury and additional obstructions, "My fault: shouldn't have snuck up on you."

She tuts out a sound that he knows very well is her firmly agreeing, but despite that, she still looks so apologetic and miserable that what might normally be a sharp reprimand holds no heat at all. It may be his fault, but she feels badly about it anyway.

"It's just that you don't usually let anyone hear you sing and I didn't want to interrupt you in the middle of the song."

The comment leaves her brows shooting toward her hairline, having obviously not thought about the fact that he was listening. A burst of annoyance surges, only to be stifled by the earnest (and, covered in cloth and frozen vegetables, pathetic) cant to his expression. He means well, he always does. Instead of a reprimand, she huffs, "there's a good reason for that."

Laughing doesn't feel particularly wonderful for Barry at the moment, but he can't help the fond sound that bursts from his chest at her comment.

At the very least, it distracts Caitlin because she winces sympathetically and shifts a little to peer at him, trying to assess how he's doing and whether or not the bleeding has stopped. "I really am sorry," she manages after a moment, "even if you did scare me, I didn't mean to give you a bloody nose."

Barry shrugs as best he can. "You know, I don't think I've had one of the whole time we've been doing this." He gives a small jerk of his head, indicating the whole of the surroundings, as if there could be any way to misinterpret what 'this' could be. "Kind of surprising, though this definitely isn't how I would have expected it to happen."

It's Caitlin's turn to laugh, easy and unfettered, as careful fingers lift to brush his to the side so that she can nudge away the cloth and then the peas and check his progress. Thankfully he's not still bleeding, so she guides his left hand away from his face, frowning slightly at the dried blood along his nostrils and collected on the cloth. Said frown only deepens when she carefully lifts away the bag of thawing peas, taking a look at the damage from another angle.

It's not broken, certainly, which is somewhat of a relief, but his nose is definitely a bit swollen and discolored from the impact.

He must read the situation by the cast of her expression, because he grimaces slowly and asks, "that bad?" with a kind of wry, pained sort of humor that indicates he already knows it is.

"Well," Caitlin starts, slow and thoughtful, voice warming as she offers her commentary, "you're certainly not quite a pretty a face as usual, but the damage isn't permanent."

Barry grins a little, gingerly, and shakes his head, adjusting to catch her gaze. "As long as I'm still pretty enough for you," he jokes,eyes bright despite the entire situation.

notes | I saw Beauty and the Beast the other night. I had feelings. I have those feelings to Caitlin and then let Barry deal with them because, you know, reasons. Just so short, senseless fluff. Enjoy?

title | tale as old as time

Caitlin's crying when Barry glances over, brow furrowing immediately in concern at the aching expression she's wearing. Despite how much he knows their talking through movies annoys Cisco, he leans over the arm rest to tuck in close and whisper, "Are you okay?" as quietly as he can manage.

When she turns, the aching expression transforms into a watery, wonderful sort of smile that does not reassure Barry in the slightest (even if it makes his heat stutter a little in his chest). He definitely does not understand what's going on, but Caitlin just shrugs and nods, her lower lip slipping between her teeth the way it often does when she's thoughtful or worried or holding something back. "I'm fine," she whispers in reply, a little strained but certain, "it's just the movie Barry."

He glances up at the screen, where Emma Watson and beast-version Dan Stevens are dancing across the ballroom floor, then back at Caitlin who's still smiling and crying silent tears, turned toward to the screen once more and completely riveted. He definitely does not understand but Caitlin tends not to lie to him, even about the little things, so he just breathes a quiet, perplexed sigh and focuses in on the movie once more.

It's a beautiful retelling, the music is phenomenal and it's easy to become enthralled once more, but a tiny, nagging voice at the base of his skull has him glancing at Caitlin every now and again throughout the rest of the movie, noticing as the tears begin to well and fall once again throughout the entire final confrontation. These tears at least make a little sense to him, given the action in the movie, so he shifts in his seat enough to offer an upturned hand that just barely brushes against Caitlin's knee to catch her attention.

Surprised, she startles just a bit, jolted from the scene playing out on the screen, but when she looks over and sees his concern and splayed fingers, she gives him a warm smile and weaves her fingers between his, squeezing back immediately when he gives a firm little press of comfort.

Neither Cisco nor Iris seem to notice at first, their gazes still glued to the film, but Iris does catch the small embrace as the credits begin to roll and they start to stretch and begin the slow and lazy process of standing up. Barry catches her pointed grin in the seconds before he and Caitlin let go to collect their popcorn and drinks.

"The CGI was incredible." Cisco is the first to break the silence once they exit the theater, all sincere enthusiasm, eager to gush about the production quality.

Barry mumbles along his agreement as their friend rattles off commentary, Iris jumping in here and there while Caitlin trails quietly between them, silently wiping the remnants of her tears from her face as they make their way back to the car. Hovering at the back of the group, Barry presses in a little closer to her, trading a glance that asks 'you okay?' without words, relieved when she smiles again, soft and honest, and then presses against his shoulder in an equally silent reassurance that yes, she's fine and she appreciates him checking in.

He just shrugs, rolling his eyes at Cisco when he makes a particularly loud point about an anachronism he noticed, clearly a little miffed when Caitlin doesn't join in what's usually their favorite post-move pastime. Scowling, he turns back from the front of the group to ask, "Didn't you notice that Caitlin?"

"Not really," she answers, the corners of her smile still turned up, "I thought it was pretty perfect."