Chapter Text
Fangs pierce the flesh of their wrist, opening an artery with ease. The taste of his own blood fills his mouth, sugar and minerals and the protein in half-dead cells, some of the initial spurt splattering across their face and shirt collar.
Barry presses the wound to their child’s lips and lets the blood flow- slowly, but not too slowly. Red drips over teeth and tongue, a weak, choking splutter trying to force out the life-giving fluid. That won’t do- they need to swallow.
They tilts their child's head back, the thumb of their other hand stroking their throat. “Drink.” he instructs, and, finally, they take their first swallow.
Their eyes widen, and they begin to drink of their own will, first weak sips, then biting deeper into Barry’s flesh with blunt still-human teeth and trying to slurp up as much as they can.
Their soul-spark, once guttering weakly like an uncovered lantern in the rain, ignites into a raging storm. They struggle against the chains holding them down, metal further bruising raw flesh.
Barry unlocks the chains before they can hurt themself and lets his child reach for them, fingers latching onto their collar, chest pressed up against their own and teeth scraping at the skin of their neck.
They chuckle, and push them off- just long enough to grab the still-bloody knife lying on the altar and cut open one of the arteries in their neck. “Hold your horses, kiddo.”
Their child whines plaintively, then grabs on and begins to drink as soon as Barry leans down.
Barry doesn’t resist being pushed onto their back as his child gets overly enthusiastic in their hunger- they simply lean back, adjust the positioning of both their limbs and strokes their hair as they drink up both the physical nutrients and the essence of the Speed Force that will fuel their change.
Finally, they drink their fill and fall asleep. Barry knows soul-deep that they’ll stay asleep for the next four or so months while the Speed Force optimizes and redesigns their physiology, waking only when they need to be fed.
The wounds on Barry’s neck and wrist heal in seconds after they stop holding back their healing factor- shallow as they are.
Gently, they scoop up their child and bring them home, settling them on the couch.
Once he’s done, they stop and stare at the bloodstained body lying on their couch. They have no idea what they're supposed to do now that they have a sleeping child.
Hm. They should probably clean the kid. And clean their kid’s clothes. Cleaning sounds good.
Just like figuring out the kid’s name, because they completely forgot to ask. That also sounds good.