Enjolras has a deep-seated disdain for Halloween, and Grantaire makes it his mission to discover why.

Warnings: ...none?

title | saturday mornings

notes | Just a little established Snowbarry fluff scene since my last fic was less than happy

Saturday mornings might just be his new favorite thing.

Still half asleep, Barry is sprawled across Caitlin’s cream-colored sheets, wearing nothing but his boxers and a lazy smile. The door to her attached bathroom is cracked open, spilling steam and giving him an un-muffled opportunity to be lulled into a peaceful stupor by the joint sounds of running water and Caitlin singing (adorably out of tune) with the music on her phone. 

It’s been just over three months since their first date (and just under three years since they first met) and he can’t remember the last time he’s been this ridiculously happy. It’s not that things are always perfect, or that they’re always easy, but they always work it out and it’s always worth the effort. 

They just work so well together. They know nearly everything about one another—all the big things at least—and they’ve been having fun working their way through finding out the little things (like how she loves The Lord of the Rings and how he’s secretly fascinated by Roman mythology; the way she giggles when his fingers trail across her bare sides and the way his breath stutters in her throat when she kisses below his left ear). It feels like every day with Caitlin is a new adventure, more thrilling then any he has as the Flash.

Unconsciously, Barry joins her in singing the upbeat pop tune that’s swelling over the sounds of her shower, humming along to the melody with his eyes closed, fingers tapping out the beat against her comforter. He’s so caught up that he misses the quiet shriek of the faucet turning off and the heavy scrape of the shower door sliding open.

He doesn’t, however, miss the sound of Caitlin’s laughter in the doorway a few minutes later.

Barry’s eyes fly open, a grin spreading across his cheeks as he takes in the sight before him: Caitlin Snow all wrapped up in nothing but a dark towel and a bright smile, watching him as closely as he’s watching her. “Good morning,” she says, the sound of her laughter infused in her greeting, warming him more thoroughly then the sunlight streaking boldly between the blinds on her bedroom windows.

He means to say something cheeky, wanting to draw another laugh from between her lips, but the words get stuck in his throat as it strikes him how perfect this all is: waking up tangled together, laying in bed listening to her shower, starting his day the exact same way he ended it—smiling and happy and with Caitlin. Instead of a smart remark, the words “I love you” tumble out on an astounded exhale, reverent and filled with awe and certainty. The sincerity of it catches in his chest, his heart all but melting at the way the words fall across her features: her eyes soften, her smile stretches and she strides across the room in the span of a heartbeat.