"What can I say, I'm fast," Barry replies, resting his cheek against Derek's hair until the siren call of his last bites of steak prove too much to resist. He eats them quickly and settles back, wishing he could do more right now than shiver pleasantly for Derek's kiss.

Stretching out his arm, he tests the bend of his fingers, pleased to find that the worst is already healed. The same seems to be true of the fractures he could feel in his cheekbone, but his ribs are still painful each time he breathes. "Maybe tomorrow," Barry says, his lids sliding to half mast. "Or the day after."