archimedes |b. allen|

under the influence (of taylor swift)

under the influence (of taylor swift)

Barry and I were getting quite good at dancing.

Dancing around the obvious fact that there was one queen sized bed we were going to have to share tonight. My mother had informed us that Nic's fiancé was taking one of the couches in the living space of the basement, which left me with the only real option which was to roll out my old sleeping bag from Girl Scout camp and rest on the floor for the night while Barry takes the bed. Because it would surely cause suspicion if either one of us tried to take the couch next to Benjamin.

"Do you want more champagne?" Barry says in a low voice next to me, eyes on my face but obviously noticing that I had emptied my third glass in the last ten minutes.

"Are you offering yours?" I flutter my lashes at him, seeing his flute that he'd barely taken a sip of.

He smirks, handing his glass over to me. His eyes run up and down my silhouette as I down the rest of his glass as if it were a shot.

"Benjamin van der Weir. That's kind of a mouthful," Barry poses, eyes glancing over at the man intending to marry my sister.

With a snort, "Whatever you say, Bartholomew."

He rolls his eyes at my comment followed by a mischievous grin. "Are you even feeling anything?"

I purse my lips and shake my head, forcing a smile as a waiter walks by with another tray of champagne, taking two from his tray and Barry copies my actions. "I'm feeling everything actually. This shit is weak."

We both share a laugh, his eyes lingering on me a bit too long as I sip on the next glass.

"Won't even catch me nursing a drink off the clock," I joke, finally getting him to flick his eyes back up to mine and off my legs.

I'd gone fairly casual for this rehearsal dinner, seeing as I literally wasn't in the wedding. Heather gray sweatshirt dress, a pair of white sneakers, and fishnets to dress it up a little. And I couldn't help but notice that those fishnets were putting in a lot of work with Mr. Allen.

Barry, dressed up nicely in a white button up and gray slacks, was kind enough to help me and my father set up all the floral arrangements Nic and my mother had finished earlier in the day while the wedding party—led by my mother—actually rehearsed.

The sweet boy (god bless Barry Allen) tried to make conversation with my father while we set up the tables and decorated them, but all he ever got was a grunt and once even a puff of air that could've been a laugh.

His attempt to woo either of my parents was honestly heartwarming. He was bending himself over backwards to be the perfect wedding date for me, and I know it was because he saw how much grief it was causing me to simply be present here.

We'd been standing around in the freshly decorated banquet hall for half an hour now. The wedding party trickled in minutes after Barry, my father, and I had finished setting everything up the way Nic (my mother) wanted it. The circle tables were set up in a U shape that framed the bride and groom's table, but still made room for a dance floor.

Barry and I were hiding off in the corner, as far away from everything as we could be without causing suspicion. Even still, there were a few bridesmaids who came over to greet us, seeing as I knew most of them as high school friends of Nic's.

"Sorry, I, uh, keep staring. You just—uh, look really different. With makeup on," Barry finally scrambles out.

His words cause my cheeks to heat and a smirk to quirk up on my lips. "Barry, you've only seen me without makeup on like twice."