"Wha?" asks Barry, his eyes closed, and it isn't until Derek begins to pull away that he understands. "Couldn't we just - " he starts, but now that he's paying attention, the smell of fresh baked bread is nearly a physical presence bearing down on him, and Barry's stomach rumbles.

He begins to reluctantly disengage. "I can at least make it fast," he says and speeds into the kitchen, pulling out the bread and slicing it and arranging equal piles on both of their plates. Barry emerges from the speed force shaking out his fingers. "God, that's hot!"