Chapter 63 – "Labour of Love"
It was just another day in Central City.
The sun filtered through the dusty windows of the CCPD precinct, casting golden beams across the desks, floors, and files no one had bothered to file properly. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, mixed with ink and the occasional scent of half-eaten donuts.
Inside his lab, Barry Allen was exactly where everyone expected him to be—buried in forensic reports, coffee mug in hand, chatting with his favorite person in the world.
"Okay, but how do you still think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?" Patty Spivot was saying between giggles as she leaned against Barry's desk, her eyes bright with mischief.
Barry raised his hands in mock defense. "Because it is! It has Christmas music. It's literally set on Christmas Eve!"
Patty laughed and shook her head. "Next you're going to tell me Gremlins is festive."
He grinned. "It is! You just don't appreciate chaotic holiday traditions."
Their laughter mingled, and Barry reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Patty's ear. She leaned in, closing the distance between them as he kissed her, soft and slow. It was sweet, normal—exactly what they both needed in a life full of supervillains and time anomalies.
And then—
Click.
The door creaked open.
Both of them froze mid-kiss and looked over like two teenagers caught red-handed.
Standing in the doorway was Dante.
Holding a mop.
Wearing janitor blues.
Headphones hanging from one ear.
He blinked at them, mop still dripping onto the clean floor, then casually leaned on it like it was a mic stand.
"Dante?" Barry asked, straightening like he hadn't just been caught sucking face at work.
Without a word, Dante slowly raised the mop to his mouth like a microphone.
And then, softly—so softly—he began to sing.
"All day, every day—
Therapist. Mother. Maid.
Nymph, then a virgin…
Nurse, then a servant…"
His voice was deep.
Smooth.
A kind of raw emotion that made time feel like it slowed down around them. The hum of the lab, the bustle outside, even Barry's enhanced heartbeat—all of it faded.
Dante closed his eyes and moved gently with the rhythm, his foot tapping lightly on the linoleum. There was no performance in his voice—no showmanship—just truth. Pain and poetry.
"Just an appendage…
Live to attend him…
So that he never lifts a finger…"
Patty's mouth hung open slightly.
She reached for her phone without blinking, hitting record like it was instinct.
Barry just stared.
Because he wasn't hearing a janitor sing. He was hearing someone bleed art through music.
The mop twirled in Dante's hand like it belonged on a Broadway stage. He walked past shelves, around desks, his voice haunting and beautiful. Even the words—biting, fierce, feminist poetry—somehow felt like they echoed the walls of the very lab where too many women's stories went unheard.
"Shouldering day in, day out…
All this weight he won't even notice…"
He paused in front of Patty, gave her a wink, then spun the mop behind his back like a mic drop.
Silence.
Total silence.
Patty was frozen.
Barry blinked.
Dante took out his headphones and clicked them off. "What? Never seen a janitor with stage presence before?"
Patty burst out laughing.
"Okay hold up," she gasped. "Why did that sound like a live NPR Tiny Desk concert? You—you're a janitor!"
Dante crossed his arms. "Yeah, and janitors can't have pipes?"
Barry finally found his voice. "Dude… that was… wow."
"I was having a moment," Dante shrugged. "Paris Paloma speaks to my inner housewife rage."
Patty grinned. "You weren't just having a moment, you summoned spirits."
Barry laughed, shaking his head. "You've been hiding that voice this whole time?"
Dante gave a sly smile. "Well, I clean floors, not stages."
"But like…" Patty gestured wildly, still holding her phone. "This voice? You could go viral with this. You should!"
"No thanks," Dante said, wiping the mop and heading back to the supply closet. "I've seen what happens to people who go viral. They end up on The Masked Singer or dating Pete Davidson."
Barry and Patty cracked up.
"Seriously," Barry said, following him. "You ever think about doing music?"
"I did," Dante said, looking at him for a beat. "Before the coma. Before the void force. Before all of it."
Patty caught the shift in tone and gently asked, "What happened?"
Dante shrugged, pushing open the closet door.
"Life happened. Pain happened. My voice became less about music and more about staying sane."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Patty softly offered, "That just makes your singing more real."
Dante looked at her, his gaze warmer this time. "You're sweet. But I'm more comfortable behind a mop than a mic. Besides, someone's gotta keep this place from smelling like dead meta."
He disappeared inside the closet.
Barry turned to Patty. "You got that recording, right?"
"Oh, I got it," she said proudly.
"You're going to post it, aren't you?"
"I'm already uploading it to TikTok, Barry."
An hour later…
Back in the lab, Barry was flipping through folders when Cisco burst in like the building was on fire.
"WHO IS DANTE THE JANITOR AND WHY IS HE TRENDING WITH 400K VIEWS IN AN HOUR!?"
Barry didn't look up. "That would be our Dante."
"Did he audition for The Voice while mopping a hallway or something!?"
"Basically."
Cisco pulled out his phone, shoved it in Barry's face.
On the screen was a clip of Dante singing, mop in hand, voice melting hearts and burning down toxic masculinity—all while surrounded by crime scene charts and paper coffee cups.
The caption read:
"Janitor walks into lab and gives a TED Talk with his vocal cords."
Cisco blinked. "I'm confused. Do we hug him or give him a record deal?"
Patty smirked. "Both."
Barry nodded. "Definitely both."
Later that night…
Dante sat alone on the steps outside CCPD, earbuds back in, sipping from a warm thermos.
His phone buzzed.
1,287 new notifications.
He sighed. "Damn you, Patty."
Barry came out and sat beside him. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just not used to being seen. People usually ignore the janitor."
Barry looked out at the skyline. "Maybe it's time they stop."
Dante smiled faintly. "Or maybe it's time I get new headphones. Mine just got famous."
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