~More Than A Program~/// Bart Allen x Reader

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and a few comments about what you think would be appreciated :3

Oh, and you might temporarily hate me/Reader for a while in this chapter. Key word; temporarily. Heheh ;)

Chapter 4

You were woken up to the sound of a soft, familiar voice murmuring your name gently. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), wake up."

Letting out a groan, you opened up your eyes, and instantly recognized the forest-green ones that stared back into yours. Irritated that your beauty sleep had been rudely disrupted, you grunted impatiently, "What is it Bart?"

"The..." He pouted childishly. "The fridge is broken."

Confusion washed over your expression. "What do you mean, broken?"

"It's not working anymore."

Feeling the need to go inspect, you sat up, rubbing your eyes. Once you had hesitantly gotten out of bed, your morning hair airborne, you followed Bart into the kitchen.

There, you opened the fridge and... Bart's words were confirmed. Indeed, the fridge's light didn't activate when you opened its door, nor did it hum its typical hymn.

Frowning, you briefly glanced over the kitchen. In the process, you noticed the oven wasn't digitally displaying the time, as it usually did.

Oh...

"The power's out, obviously ," you growled, unable to hide the annoyance in your voice. "What time is it anyway?"

"It's 2 in the morning-"

"2 in the morning!?" You roared, now furious. You had been woken up so early for such a stupid thing? "Do you even hear yourself talking, Bart? Why the heck are you even up at this hour!?"

Seeming shocked at your sudden outburst, Bart stammered, "I-I was keeping an eye out like I usually do in case y'know, burglars or-"

"There are no burglars here," you coldly cut him off, glaring. Your exhaustion and anger governed your senses, making it impossible for you to realize that you should be grateful he was ensuring your safety rather than cussing him out.

Bart slowly hung his head, not wanting to meet your gaze any longer, and mumbled shamefully, "I... I'm sorry (Y/N)."

You felt a twinge of guilt... But it wasn't enough to stop you from huffing with disgust and stomping out of the room and toward your bedroom.

Before collapsing onto your bed, you checked to make sure the door was locked. You weren't about to tolerate another intrusion.

The rest of the day went by like any other. The place was a little more quiet, sure, and Bart definitely wasn't as keen about approaching you, but... Normal nevertheless, in your brain anyway.

Although you still felt a little bad for having yelled at Bart earlier, you didn't bother apologizing. You practically reeked of grumpiness, earned from your lack of sleep. Such a mood wouldn't quite allow you to show the slightest sign of guilt, or sympathy toward him. Instead, you found yourself constantly snapping at him.

Well, that was until that evening, when he hesitantly poked his head into your room.

"(Y/N)?" His voice was laced with uncertainty.

"Come in," you droned absent-mindedly without looking up from your book.

You heard him walk over slowly, and then acknowledged a weight plop down next to your feet on your bed. Again, you kept your eyes on the pages before you, feeling no need to look at him. You were hoping he'd get the image, that he'd understand that you just wanted to be left alone.