Oh What a Night

January 1, 2015: Late December, back in 63

Little Italy

Like Italy, but smaller.



  • None

Mood Music:

Stark party.

Doggie bags.

Expensive dress.

No shoes in horrible weather.

Branch broken.

Reese with hypothermia and toes that seemingly remain stiff due to ice rot.

But.. let's do this the Barry way.

I've lived a long time, in all my years nothing ever beats out a good party with food and people who don't know your name. This was nothing like the episodic Cheers, but it came very close because for once? It seems like this generation was meant for me.

My name is Seikatsu Reese Takeda, daughter of a feudal warlord and his chamber maiden, born in the cusp of the Song Dynasty where I lived, I died, and was reborn again without sight and sound. And now I'm here in New York, breaking my way into my.. I guess you could call him friend.

You see, he offered me a place to stay for a while if I decided to get back on my feet. But little did he know, Barry, that is, that I'm always on my feet. Cause the world is my playground. I know not to get attached, because his life is lived in the Speed Zone, and real quick? He'll be dead, just like those I know now. It can't be helped. But little by little, I let him and others in, and it makes my life the better for it.

My name is Reese Takeda. Daughter of a feudal warlord. And I'm sneaking into Barry's house after a long night of partying.

Ironically, Barry's house is totally empty. The lights are off, the microwave blinks 3:08 over and over and it is unclear as to whether that is the time the machine thinks it is, or that's the time left on a heating job that someone thought was finished enough. Barry's door is shut, but he's not behind there. It just has that feeling.

Instead, Barry comes strolling in at some point after Reese gets there. The bruise of his face has healed, but the last few hours, the hours after midnight on New Year's Eve, are a mystery.

Even to him.

The broken stick was tossed aside, dress remained on as she didn't want to rummage through clothing that she had already stolen. It was a shame too, she left his Chuck Taylors back at Starks, which.. since no one really knew her aside from Reese, they wouldn't know where to send them. Unless they bugged her, then that would have annoyed the piss out of her.

Stepping out of his room with a limp, her hands remain around herself to keep the blanket that she snatched from his bed upon his shoulders, the heat soon turned on level 'Hell', the couch taken up with a fluffed pillow to allow the warmth in to draw hypothermia and possible ice-rot out. Just when she was getting comfortable, there was a sound of someone entering.

And to her? It kind of didn't smell like him. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Beetlebum," Barry responds as he closes the door behind himself. His eyes close and he rests his head against the door for just a second, overcome with the thought of his missing evening. Before he was 25, he'd have thought nothing of it. This was a bit different.

"What are you still doing up?" He asks as he turns toward her, having no idea that he smells different. "Have fun tonight?"

"Beetlebum?" Her nose wrinkles and an all too rare and comfortable smile kisses her lips. "That's oddly cute." Though her tone suggests otherwise. But it really was! She slowly sits up upon the couch, fixing it so that every inch of her was covered with the blanket, leaning back against the cushions with a slight huff of a breath. "I just got in not too long ago. It took me a while to find your house. I went far. No help this time."

She shrugs her shoulders, scooting over a little to pat the seat next to her. "Fun is subjective. But I ate a lot. I left food for you in your room on the floor."

"On the floor?" Barry responds quizzically. "Sounds yummy." He flops down onto his couch and reaches for his phone. "It's from a song. Band called Blur. The singer-guy is in the Gorillaz," he adds absently as he turns the phone on. Before long it starts buzzing wildly. He flips over to check his texts. There are 36.

"It's in a bag." She states, thinking it was clearly obvious. "Rich people food is always yummy. Unless you like eating testicles and dead fish eggs. Those are not yummy."

Hearing the buzzing, her head whips to the side to lend an ear, leaning in towards him just a little as lips purse tightly. "What is that noise."

Barry's eyes grow in roundness. All 36 are from one person. "It's my phone. Had kind of a crazy night tonight." He sort of leaves it at that. "You know how it is—you push a bad guy into a rupture in the space time continuum, have no idea how you get back. In the end you just wanna curl up and watch Cartoon Network." He sends a text message response and slides the phone across the coffee table. Weary hands come up over the eyes as he leans back on the sofa. "what were you doing at a place with rich people and food?"

"Mmh. Usual day for you then." It was meant to tease, even though her tone suggests. "Are you hurt? Have hang over?" Her fingers slip from the blankets only to glow blue, but she does not touch him if he doesn't want it. "Stomach ache? Tired.." She could cure it all, but not that lingering depression in the back of his head.
"Stark Tower." She clarifies, those rich people. "After being covered in blood by some dead guy from some alien monster, I deserved to de-stress with free food and obviously.." She pulls away the blankets to show an all too expensive dress, more than both of their salaries. "..free clothes. Given to me after I crashed the party. I sound like I'm bragging."

"Yeah, I'm alright," Barry says as he lets his hand fall in a plop at his sides. "I think I'm just tired. And trying to figure out what the heck happened to me. But yeah." He chuckles a bit. "Just another day for the Flash."

The topic of Stark piques his interest. The millionaire industrialist, or was that billionaire? One loses track eventually with all that money, he supposes. But the really intriguing part about the guy is the technology he spits out like a prize fighter after a round. Consistent. Innovative. Genius.

But when Reese pulls the blanket back, Barry's brown eyebrows rise. "You look really beautiful Reese. You look amazing." After the statement lulls, he adds, "I'm glad you go the chance to go somewhere nice."

By closing her hands, the glow stops, extinguished just as it grew to life. "I could possibly help you with that. But if you weren't damaged.." Eh. She did say possibly. But often times people didn't want to drudge up the past, no sense in forcing it.

There was a blush that falls upon her cheeks now, her feet soon coveting the other, the blanket immediately draped along herself as she tilts her head to the side. "Thank you Barry." She .. really didn't know what to say after that. Mostly due to failure of knowing how to take a compliment. "I bet you look good too." Throw it back! That helps!

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I kind of look like hell. That's what getting in a scrap does to a guy." Barry waves a hand towards Reese at her idea about 'fixing him'. Of course, she can't see it. "I'll be fine, I think. I just need some rest. Which I'm going to do after Ronnie texts me back, letting me know that she knows that I'm back which will also let me know that she is no longer worried. I never really thought she would be, or didn't realize it I guess. But 36 text messages say otherwise."

Barry lolls his head back on the sofa, "I have no idea who that guy at the bar was. He was dressed as Daredevil, but it wasn't…At least I don't think so. Also, I don't think Daredevil blows up bars. But what do I know?"

Barry's phone chimes.

'On my way!'

"I wouldn't know." Reese comments. But there was a little worry written across her features, which was soon dissapated at the mention of Daredevil. Reese, has been in seclusion for far too long. Almost fifty years, but still, way too long to know who's who or what is what. "I'm sure your friend is going to answer. That's what people do if they actually care and decide to leave close to forty messages." Then the chime.

"See? You now know that she cares. That's what you know."

On her way? Tonight? It's like 3 in the AM at this point. Barry types out, "Nah, don't worry about it, I'm okay." But then, thinking that might be rude, he decides against it. Backspacebackspacebackspace. He types out a new message. "Really? Here's the address:" He types out a bunch of numbers for a place on Mulberry street. "Door at the bottom is open."

Barry chuckles over towards Reese, "What kind of food did you score at your party? Was Stark there? Who all was there?"

Elsewhere, a figure in blue spandex jumps from rooftop to rooftop, huffing and puffing in the cold night air.

"Food? Mmh. I can't tell you what it was. I want to say steak with some sort of burbon like sauce. Something with bread, veggies, I got it all." She draws the blankets back then slips forward, her toes wiggling against the ground to test the regeneration qualities she has. She could feel them now, she was out of the woods and slightly thankful that she hid them. Hypothermia could be a real sucker if you had no where to go.
Once she stands, she leaves the main room and into his bedroom, counting out her paces with her arms out to make sure she bumps into nothing nor steps upon the food. Once the bag is reached, she returns with an answer. "Someone named Hal, Babs, Rain. There was someone who sang.. I can't remember his name. But he talked about Ourboras or some stuff (Fenris)."

Counting out her paces again, she sets the bag upon the table then flops upon the couch. "The food is cold. I was outside for a very long time." And then a pause. "I don't know if Tony was there. But someone named Keith showed up, and.. another woman who's name that I didn't get. (Cricket)"

"Hey, don't worry about it being cold. That's what a microwave is for, right?" Barry smiles and takes the bag from her, eager to see what she's brought for him. As he opens the boxes, he can't help but agree with her original assessment: Rich people food is awesome. Especially on New Year's morning.

"Tony's the one I'd really want to see. Man, I could ask him a million questions. I'm sure he gets that all the time." Barry turns back to Reese on the couch, "Anyone there you knew? Or did you crash solo?"

"Right." She states, now bundling herself upon the couch, her feet tucked underneath her.

As he rifles through the bags, she gives a slow shake of her head. "I had a friend. I wish she was there." She looked a little sad at that. "Kida. Sometimes I half expect her to crawl through the window to drag me away to safety, or sometimes I expect to wake up with her sleeping on the floor. If she was here, I would have taken her with me. And she.. as she would have said, she would have had her bounty of food." Damn. Reese was sad, attached and sad all the same. It gave her heart a heavy feeling, one that she did not like to feel.

"I went alone. I didn't know anyone. Cinderella story of sorts. Without the evil sisters and the crows pecking out peoples eyes."

"That's some dark stuff, Reese. Was that like, your girl or something? What happened to her? Why don't you call her? People get all sorts of nostalgic this time of year. You give her a ring, she'll probably answer." Much of the Edgar Allen Poe stuff is lost on Barry; although he's had similar sorts of experiences in the past. "Where does Kida live?"

"It's not dark, Barry. It's life." She shakes her head. "I saved her from being killed. And she said that she would protect me with her life." She shifts a little, finding it a little hard to explain. "She.. doesn't like anything technical. She says she came from a place where people like her.. us.. are hunted just because of what we could do. She figured that they would find her eventually, and by proxy, me." Her lip sticks out a little. "I don't know. Last I saw her was with Rowan. But we usually would stay in Metropolis, near Hells Gate and Suicide Slums."

"Look, Reese, it sounds like she has a pretty rough life. If you need me to go check on her or something, check and see that she's alright, I'd be happy to do it for you. I can do that kind of thing. I'm fast you know." Barry gives her a tilted head and a lopsided grin, of course she can't see any of it.

Reese shakes her head. "No, Barry. You have more than enough to deal with. There is no sense piling my issues upon your plate. You should eat. Food may spoil." She grew oddly cold at that, then draws herself up and wraps the blanket around herself. "I'm going to go to bed. You should probably check in with your friend and give her a call. You're sleeping on the couch." And this wasn't even her house!

With that said, she wanders off. Beddy bye bye is awesome.

A little bit of time passes.

At one point that time involve Ronnie changing clothes on the building's roof, huddled in the shadows.

Then there's a knock at the door. On the other side is Ronnie Hautzig, in her flowing skirts and her sweaters and her winter coat and her scarf and everything, looking (what she hopes is) dorkishly appealing with her hands folded in front of her.

Barry is over to the door a millisecond later, nearly toppling over his lamp as he hears the knock at the door. There's a small creak and then Barry can be seen behind the door with a weak smile on his face. "Hey," he says and opens the door.
Barry has looked better. Deep circles are under his eyes and he looks like he could use a shave—which is kind of funny because he always looks so young. "Are you hungry?" he asks as if nothing has happened at all with the whole interdimensional travel and all that.

Ronnie just jumped from rooftop to rooftop without pause for as long as it took to get to Little Italy. "Yes," she says, with a smile — the kind of smile that comes from not really knowing what to do with your face so a smile becomes the default option.

"Happy, um, New Year's," Ronnie says after stepping in. "Is it cool if I take my coat off…?" She lets her hands hover over the buttons but doesn't advance until given the all-clear. "So, uh, yeah, that was… a thing that happened last night, I…" She bites her lip, and then breathes out, and says with no small amount of self-deprecation: "So I texted you. Yeah."

"Oh! Yeah, right. I mean, sure. I can take your coat." Barry reaches to do just that and a mischievous grin grows when she talks about the text messages. "Yeah, I got them. I got all of them."

There's almost a giggle out of him as hepresuming she gives him her coatputs the garment in his closet. "Turns out there was some sort of weird rift in the time-space continuum, and I have no idea what happened. I was gone for 3 hours, and came back, with no memory as to what happened."

"Happy New Years."

Ronnie gives Barry a long, flat stare, her mouth open just a little bit as he nonchalantly describes what happened to him. After a long moment she blinks and looks like she is still trying to compute that. "Oh. I mean, of course you did." Pause. A beat too long. "So is this what it'd be like…? I mean. Is this — is this the sort of thing that'd be a normal conversation for us. You know. If we were dating."

Ronnie's mostly cream-colored hippie sweater has a big sooty smudge on the back from when she bumped her back against a smokestack on the roof.

Barry looks to her and exhales with a wince and a sigh. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. I mean, I never really bat an eyelash at this sort of thing. It's just kind of what I do, you know?" The wince continues. "If that's not something you really want to be part of, I completely understand."

His blue eyes stop on the smudge. "Did you get thrown down at the bar or something? Your back got all black."

"Huh?" Ronnie tries to look over her own shoulder at her back, which of course does not work. "I don't know, maybe I bumped against something… I mean, my mind wasn't really… I was kinda focused on other stuff." She manages a weak smile.

Ronnie hesitates for a second, then pulls the sweater off. Underneath, she has on a long-sleeved thermal, and over the thermal she's wearing a t-shirt advertising some kind of 5k run from 1994 that she must have found in a thrift store. She looks at the smudge on the sweater and frowns.

Then, after that moment of thought, she looks up and over at Barry. "Well, if it's what you do… then it's what you do. And I'm cool with that. It's just weird." She laughs a little, dorkishly and self-consciously. "Just one condition?"

Barry sits back upon the edge of the sofa and folds his arms over the navy sweater he's wearing. "It is a little weird, I'll give you that. On the flip side, this is just sort of what I have to do. I never told the last person I had a relationship with, and that was probably a mistake. I'm glad it worked out this way, if that's what this is going to be." His eyebrow flickers, "What's that?" The condition, he means.

Ronnie nods to Barry slowly, and then when he asks what the condition is, she rubs her own jaw and cheek. "This," she says, as in his stubble. "Don't grow a beard. That'd be a deal breaker."

"Yeah, this is…" And for a second he's gone. He's disappeared from the room, left the touch of her hand against his face. Next thing you know, all that's there is a gust of wind.
But before the breeze even settles on that blondish-brown rooted hair of hers, he's back. And cleanly shaven.

"Look, I'm not saying we need to jump into something. I mean, I don't even really know how you feel about the whole thing. And everytime we hang out I feel like something terrible happens to one of us. Or our Professors."

Ronnie runs a hand through her hair, since it's all windswept now. Not that it ever really looks perfectly styled, but there are degrees, clearly. She laughs when Barry returns clean-shaven. "I'm amazed you can… /do/ that," she says. "I mean, do anything, like… you would think the friction alone would make you a walking firestorm. I mean, not Firestorm, but you know, a… storm… of fire."

Ronnie sits with her hands in her lap, close to Barry but not, you know, ~close~. "Well, I'm not saying let's head down to the courthouse or change religions or anything, I just… you know, I think we should… see where it goes." She nods her head to the rhythm of her own words, as if she's listening to herself from outside herself and agreeing. "And I know people usually say that as, like, a bad thing, but I mean, Barry, my thinking is… this terrible stuff can happen to either of us, and, um, we can both HANDLE it. We can take it. There's not a weak link. Well, I mean, I'm way… you know, less fast than you and… you know what I mean, though, right? I'm not some, like, little dandelion or something."

Barry seems to be getting into the idea by the way he's nodding, and he leans forward resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands as he looks towards her. "That was kind of the thing, though. When I realized you were a mutant, I kind of figured that you'd understand. At least at the being different part. And once I kind of saw you in that light a lot of my apprehension went away. But the thing is…these bad things that keep happening? They won't go away. There won't be a time when I'm not going to be going out and doing this thing. If you know about the Flash at all from the papers, I think you know that already."

"And I'm not becoming Jewish."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Ronnie nods slowly. She bites her lip slightly at the mention of being a mutant. Maybe she doesn't like to talk about that part. "I know, I mean… if it's too much, it's too much, but I don't know what 'too much' is for me. And the only way to know is to, like… find out." Ronnie reaches out, and puts her hand on top of Barry's.

"And that's okay. I'll settle for us controlling the media. Because that was a Seinfeld joke you did just now."

Barry's smile widens. He flays out his fingers so he can grab at the pinky that overlays his hand and gives it a squeeze. "I'm glad you got it because that would have been super awkward, if you hadn't. I took a chance. Saw my opening and just went for it."

Ronnie says a quick, casual, "Yeah, same" and then leans in to kiss Barry right on his mouth, with her mouth, so that their mouths are touching.

There's that slight little exhaust of air when you're taken by surprise. If Ronnie's eyes are open she might get eyeball tangle because Barry doesn't close his at first. But then he does. And when he gets his composure, he kisses her right back.

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