Barry can already picture the look on Caitlin’s face as she exhales behind him, the kind of exasperated sigh that comes with not really knowing what to do with the person in front of them, but pleasantly endeared all the same. Or, at least, he hopes she’s pleasantly endeared. Especially considering his brain to mouth filter seemed to have disappeared when he developed super speed.
“Yes, Barry. That is a butt.” She steps up next to him and links one arm through his, leaning in to rest against his shoulder just slightly in response. “In fact, it happens to be a very colorful butt.”
“Thank you. This may be the first interpretation we’ve agreed on all night.” He shifts his stance just enough to allow her to lean closer, and his face is clearly grinning, just to make it clear that he knows he’s getting on her case and that he means no harm by it. Whether or not she will harm him later remains to be seen, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to restrain himself.
“That’s not an interpretation. That is a statement of fact.” She corrects him gently before turning and facing the piece again. “Art is about how it makes you feel, not what you see.”
“Well, the only thing I’m really feeling from this is that Sir Mix-a-Lot would be proud,” he sighs softly, before moving to step down to the next piece on the wall. “He would probably hang that in his foyer.”
“You think so?”
“It does seem to be his aesthetic,” he jokes before rounding the corner back to what seems to be more serious pieces. “And you know, it’s not that I don’t like art. It’s just sometimes I don’t really get it.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you said art is supposed to be about how it makes you feel, right?” She nods in response, and Barry continues. “Then what do you do if it makes you feel confused? Or just completely out of your league.”
“There’s no right or wrong answer to art, Barry,” she replies gently as they make their way into a room of Renaissance religious art. “You just feel what you feel. And some snobby, supposedly educated people may tell you you’re wrong, but as far as I’m concerned, they can take their opinion and shove it.”
He smirks at that, before nodding in agreement. “Glad to have you on my side.”
“Anytime.”
They wander their way through the rest of the museum, giving Barry a chance to provide color commentary that surely annoyed all of the serious art lovers in the room, but he does make a note to Caitlin of what he does actually think, because she’s right – art isn’t just for the art snobs, and he feels like he can at least share it with her, if nothing else.
When they finally make their way outside, Barry slips an arm around her shoulders as he turns to lead the way back to her car. Part of him is a little antsy to move, not sit in a car and drive much slower than he would normally go, and Caitlin seems to sense that before they even make it all the way to her car.
“Want to meet me at the restaurant?”
“Are you sure?” He doesn’t want it to feel like he’s ditching her, since this is a date after all, but he also doesn’t really want to sit in a car either.
“I’m sure. You’ll probably beat me there so you can make sure they save our table.”
“I’m on it,” he grins, before leaning in to kiss her briefly. “See you there.”
i'm hooked and i can't stop starin' | the flash | 624 words
Barry can already picture the look on Caitlin’s face as she exhales behind him, the kind of exasperated sigh that comes with not really knowing what to do with the person in front of them, but pleasantly endeared all the same. Or, at least, he hopes she’s pleasantly endeared. Especially considering his brain to mouth filter seemed to have disappeared when he developed super speed.
“Yes, Barry. That is a butt.” She steps up next to him and links one arm through his, leaning in to rest against his shoulder just slightly in response. “In fact, it happens to be a very colorful butt.”
“Thank you. This may be the first interpretation we’ve agreed on all night.” He shifts his stance just enough to allow her to lean closer, and his face is clearly grinning, just to make it clear that he knows he’s getting on her case and that he means no harm by it. Whether or not she will harm him later remains to be seen, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to restrain himself.
“That’s not an interpretation. That is a statement of fact.” She corrects him gently before turning and facing the piece again. “Art is about how it makes you feel, not what you see.”
“Well, the only thing I’m really feeling from this is that Sir Mix-a-Lot would be proud,” he sighs softly, before moving to step down to the next piece on the wall. “He would probably hang that in his foyer.”
“You think so?”
“It does seem to be his aesthetic,” he jokes before rounding the corner back to what seems to be more serious pieces. “And you know, it’s not that I don’t like art. It’s just sometimes I don’t really get it.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you said art is supposed to be about how it makes you feel, right?” She nods in response, and Barry continues. “Then what do you do if it makes you feel confused? Or just completely out of your league.”
“There’s no right or wrong answer to art, Barry,” she replies gently as they make their way into a room of Renaissance religious art. “You just feel what you feel. And some snobby, supposedly educated people may tell you you’re wrong, but as far as I’m concerned, they can take their opinion and shove it.”
He smirks at that, before nodding in agreement. “Glad to have you on my side.”
“Anytime.”
They wander their way through the rest of the museum, giving Barry a chance to provide color commentary that surely annoyed all of the serious art lovers in the room, but he does make a note to Caitlin of what he does actually think, because she’s right – art isn’t just for the art snobs, and he feels like he can at least share it with her, if nothing else.
When they finally make their way outside, Barry slips an arm around her shoulders as he turns to lead the way back to her car. Part of him is a little antsy to move, not sit in a car and drive much slower than he would normally go, and Caitlin seems to sense that before they even make it all the way to her car.
“Want to meet me at the restaurant?”
“Are you sure?” He doesn’t want it to feel like he’s ditching her, since this is a date after all, but he also doesn’t really want to sit in a car either.
“I’m sure. You’ll probably beat me there so you can make sure they save our table.”
“I’m on it,” he grins, before leaning in to kiss her briefly. “See you there.”
And with that, he’s gone in a flash.