For JoeNeal, who gave me the prompt that created this! See bottom for important note!

There was a time when the thrum of the Speed Force surrounding him, the city blurring and then becoming telescopic in its distinction as everything slowed in contrast to him going faster—faster, faster—made Barry feel happier and more complete than he ever thought possible before the lightning.

Now it was all just noise.

"Please tell me you have a read on this guy," Barry said as he skidded to a halt and looked around the empty lot he'd chased his quarry to, only to have lost him—again.

"Not yet, Barry, hang on," Caitlin said over the comms.

"And it's Camouflage," Cisco said succinctly.

Barry gritted his teeth. Cisco meant well, he always meant well, and he loved his job, which was…good. For Cisco. Barry knew to expect the nicknames and the lack of professionalism on occasion, but some nights it grated on him. Like tonight. And the night before. And this past week—month. Barry was losing track of the days that he wasn't irritated with someone.

"Guys, he's getting away," Barry said through his clenched teeth. He scanned the parking lot again, looking for the faint, tell-tale shimmer like ripples of heat on a summer day that so far had been the only indication before this guy attacked. He could blend in perfectly with his surroundings, making him invisible to the naked eye, almost like—

"Ooo, or Predator!" Cisco said, following Barry's same line of thought. "Though that's copyrighted and arguably less creative—"

"Cisco…"

"Barry, turn to your left," Caitlin spoke over them.

Barry obeyed. His Flash symbol had been outfitted with various sensors to pick up readings from new meta humans. In this case, a meta who could not only alter his biochromes, but also the miniscule wavelengths of light reflected by the pigments. In an empty lot on the edge of town, with no vehicles or passersby around, nothing but their meta of the week should cause his sensors to go off.

"Two feet in front of you!" Caitlin yelled.

Barry swung, connecting a hard right hook with the side of Camo's face. The meta's image rippled into view, just a man at his core, with a shaved head, slim night vision goggles, and a simple skintight suit in black made out of a material that Cisco was dying to get his hands on, since it could mimic the man's natural biochromes when he used his powers to blend in with his environment.

If Barry knocked the guy out, he could get him back to the Pipeline, take his suit, and have him ready for Iron Heights' meta wing transfer in the morning. He might even get six hours of sleep for once.

Barry readied his other fist for a sharp, successive left hook, but since he couldn't risk adding any of his speed to his hits—or possibly dislocate or break someone's jaw—he was too slow. Camo had dropped the bag of stolen money and jewelry, but he recovered quickly from the first hit, both hands snapping up to catch Barry's wrist mid swing. His black suit sparked with a charge of electricity, and Barry had less than a second to realize how much trouble he was in.

A shock as painful as any jolt of lightning from Weather Wizard traveled up Barry's wrist, up his arm, and right to his heart, where he felt the rhythm stutter. The next thing Barry knew, he was on his knees, blinking dazedly up at Camo as the meta human snatched the bag of loot from the ground and made a break for it around the nearest building.

"Barry!" Caitlin cried. "You heart rate—"

"I'm fine," Barry coughed. He sucked in air as he waited for his healing factor to steady the jagged rhythm of his heart making his chest feel like he had a hot iron pressed to the inside of his ribcage. Five seconds…ten…finally, it dissipated. "A high volt electrical charge is how he controls the reflectors in his suit. But I think he shorted it out with that trick. I can catch him." He zipped to his feet.

"Be careful," Caitlin said.

"You got this," Cisco assured him.

Barry bounced on the balls of his feet once, twice, then took off in the direction Camo had run. Three possible options for where he'd gone presented themselves to Barry once he rounded the corner. Down an alley back out to the street—likely not. Up a fire escape to the roof of the building—doubtful. And beneath a loading dock door that was just barely over a foot up from the ground—a tight fit, but possible the man had slid his lithe form underneath, and Barry could easily follow suit.

"Got a line on him. Going dark until I have him in my sights."

"If we get any obvious biochrome readings, we'll let you know," Caitlin said.

Scuffing up the suit as he crawled on the ground to get under the door was more of a nuisance than dangerous, but it still made Barry feel low, and annoyed—and like, really, could this night get any worse?—when every night lately felt like an exercise in Barry's dwindling patience. Someone whose best trick was being sneaky, and giving off a one-shot electrical charge should not put Barry on his ass.

He just wanted to catch this guy and call it a night. Get some peace and quiet for once—just once. He didn't remember the last time he'd had a night off. Not since Patty left Central City. That was six weeks ago.

Barry stifled a curse as he rolled to his feet inside the…factory? He couldn't be sure. It was nearly pitch black inside. Pitch black for him, against an enemy with night vision goggles. Fantastic.

Feeling outward with his hands, Barry walked slowly into what felt like an expansive room, but he couldn't be sure, trying to slowly strafe the direction he pointed his chest to give Caitlin the opportunity to pick up any readings. He closed his eyes, since he couldn't see anyway, and focused on what he could hear.

Scuffling feet…to his left! He swung—but hit nothing. He turned to face that direction, listening for Caitlin to give him any cues, but nothing came.

Breathing…right! Barry swung again—still nothing. Once more, he turned to face where Camo had been, waiting…hoping…

Barry's feet knocked out from under him and he went down, flat on his face, smashing his nose into the concrete floor. Broken, bleeding—fuck, he'd have to reset that for it to heal right. He hated resetting bones.

Then, finally, the meta human made an error in judgment and moved to pin Barry to the floor with his foot, only Barry had already rolled over, and caught the man's ankle in his grasp. He yanked downward, and felt Camo falter, tumble, and hit the ground with an oof on his back. Yes! Barry scrambled to get a better hold of him, but Camo righted himself and started to crawl away.

No, no, no… Barry felt so foolish grappling with a man in the dark, but damn it—damn it, he was not going home empty handed tonight. Not again. Not another night with absolutely nothing to show for everything he put into this, everything he gave of himself to be The Flash, everyone who had been sacrificed so he could live and protect this city.

He felt when Camo reached a wall and tried to scramble to his feet, but Barry was faster, got to his feet first, kept the meta human pinned and unsteady as he whirled him around and slammed him hard into the wall. Barry couldn't see anything but the faint outline of round lenses from Camo's goggles. He reared his arm back for a swift punch to end this.

Another shock coursed through Barry, and—fuck. It was weaker than the first, but still hurt, so much, and Barry was done, just done. He tightened the grip of his left hand on Camo's suit, and fueled every ounce of anger he had into his punch.

The crack of Camo's nose breaking as Barry's had was gratifying—vindicating.

The second punch made the man moan in pain. But he was still conscious.

Distantly, Barry heard Caitlin and Cisco yell for an update, wondering what was going on, but Barry wasn't done yet.

He swung again.

"S-Stop…" Camo sputtered in a rough, broken voice, spitting at the ground after he spoke, "I give up, p-please…"

Barry's fist tightened, readied again, and he just…he wanted to scream, and nearly did as he pulled his arm back again.

"Barry, answer us!" Cisco cried in his ear.

His fist connected—but not with Camo's face. Barry's knuckles sunk into the plaster of the wall. He'd used his speed. He'd a punch a hole in the wall. It sparked and smoked—a fuse box. The damage triggered something in the building's grid, and suddenly, faint blue emergency lights kicked on above and around Barry.

He took a breath that seared his lungs. He'd been holding it since the first punch. But he lost his breath again when he finally looked at the man beneath his grasp, illuminated as the building filled with light.

Camo looked like he'd gone three rounds with prize fighter. Nose busted and bleeding, the bone around his eye likely cracked, already swelling, lip split, eyes dazed as he struggled to stay awake. Then Barry looked at the hole he'd left in the wall and realized how close he'd come to caving the man's face in just like the plaster.

"Barry!" Caitlin and Cisco cried together.

"I…I'm okay. I'm okay. I…I got him." Slowly, Barry loosened his fist and his hold on Camo, letting the man slump against the wall, who finally, blessedly passed out.

"Are you sure?" Caitlin asked. "Your blood pressure spiked."

"It just…got a little brutal," Barry said. But there was nothing little about it. And the worse thing was, he didn't feel sick from what he'd done—what he'd almost done.

He felt numb.

Barry hissed as Caitlin cracked his nose back into place, then handed him a damp cloth to wipe away the blood. She'd done the same for Camo first, cleaned him up as best she could so he'd be able to rest comfortably in the Pipeline until morning. She hadn't said a word about the state of the man since Barry brought him in, though Cisco had uttered a surprised, "Dude," that made Barry flare with anger more than shame.

Which he knew was backwards. He should feel ashamed. He could have killed the man. He'd let himself get angry and it had led to Camo likely having a concussion, not to mention the cuts and bruises. But Barry either felt empty or justifiably bitter these days, and neither emotion resembled the relief he craved. He just wanted to sleep, wake up in the morning, and be a different man. Be someone other than Barry Allen or The Flash.

"Barry?" Cisco said with a note of confusion.

Barry blinked and looked up, only to see both Cisco and Caitlin hovering in front of him like they'd been standing there for a while now. "Huh? What? Did you say something?" He hopped down from the hospital bed and dropped the now bloodied cloth on top of it. He was still in his Flash suit, cowl back, body drained and tired, but not as sore as he'd be if he was human.

Cisco's eyes widened, while Caitlin's narrowed and she pursed her lips. Barry could sense the lecture coming. He knew he deserved it, but he couldn't bring himself to care right now.

"Barry, what happened tonight?" she asked.

"I told you. It was dark. I didn't see the damage I'd done until the lights came on. I was frantic from the fight. He kept getting the jump on me."

"And that would be fine, Barry," Caitlin said, arms crossed in reprimand, "if I thought you were being honest with us. But the Barry I know, even if this was an accident, would be beating himself up over hurting someone that badly. Lately, you've been…"

"What?" Barry took a step closer to his friends when Caitlin trailed. He almost expected them to back up a step, and felt anger swirl in his gut again when they didn't.

"Dude, chill," Cisco held up his hands like appeasing a small child rather than dealing with a dangerous meta human, something he would never do with anyone but Barry, "you've been extra intense the past few weeks, okay? Like all your nerves are fried. If that leads to beating up the baddies that much better, I'm all for it, but that…"

"But that what?" Barry challenged again. Took a step toward them—again. "Is what I did any worse than how my enemies have left me? Just because I heal, doesn't mean I haven't been beaten, and hurt, and near death more than once—"

"Which is awful, Barry," Caitlin walked into his path, unafraid, "and I wish we could prevent you from ever getting hurt like that again, but that doesn't justify stooping to the level of the people you stop."

Rage curdled in Barry's veins. He tightened his fists, feeling the same desire to break something, anything, anyone. And as the need to hurt someone as much as he'd been hurt warred within him, he whirled around and slammed his fists down onto the hospital bed, buckling it and crashing it to the floor.

"Barry!"

"Dude, what is your problem!?"

"My problem is it never stops!" Barry yelled, louder, and fiercer in his anger faced away from his friends. He couldn't see straight for how he shook and boiled on the inside. "They take my mother, and they take my time—my days, my nights, my life. Wells, Mardon, Snart, all of them! They take everything…and what they don't take…leaves.

"My father leaves me. My girlfriend leaves me. Because I can't risk her, can't risk anyone. And something I once thought was a gift, that I would have chosen if I could, would have asked for if chance hadn't given it to me, now is something I can't escape. I can never escape, or stop, because the second I stop, someone is going to die, and it's going to be the wrong person again, someone I love and couldn't protect.

"So why can't I hurt someone first, for once, huh? When do I get the upper hand? When do I get to win, finally? When do I get a fucking break!?"

He kicked the hospital bed with such force and speed that the whole thing went flying into the wall and smacked into the glass, causing a crack three feet long to form and nearly shattering the whole thing into fragments.

Barry gaped at what he'd done the moment the carnage settled. It was like some spell lifted, breaking through the surface of his numbness and leaving him with this awful, potent sadness. He didn't realize he'd started to cry until he sniffled, then lifted a hand to his face and felt the wetness on his cheeks that had nothing to do with dried blood or the cloth he'd used to wipe it away.

The silence was suffocating. He was afraid to turn around, to see how his friends would look at him after he'd done something so reckless and stupid and frightening.

"I'm sorry," he said, half turned, staring at the floor, grateful, actually grateful that he felt the pain, and the shame, and the ache of what he'd done, because when he felt nothing, it was so much worse. "I'm sorry," he tried again, sniffling, and gasping, and sobbing—damn it. He hated being weak, almost more than he hated the shell of himself he'd become.

Barry tried to lift his head, to look at Cisco and Caitlin, but before he could, he felt their arms surround him and he just…couldn't anymore—couldn't be strong, couldn't be angry, couldn't be anything but miserable and lonely even with his friends at his side.

He cried as they held him. Cisco from the front, Caitlin from behind, both half holding him, half plastered against him. It wasn't enough, but it was better. It was better…and made him feel all the worse for his behavior, because of course his friends were there, forgiving of him no matter what he did, and more amazing than he ever deserved.

"I don't know what's wrong with me…"

"Barry," Caitlin said softly against his shoulder, "nothing is wrong with you. Nothing that means you're anything less than you. You're hurt and frustrated and weighed down by far more than any one person should have to shoulder alone. But you're not alone, Barry. Let us help."

"Yeah, man," Cisco said, hugging Barry's waist, "it's Team Flash, emphasis on the team part, remember? Tell us what's going on."

Slowly, limbs extracting themselves one at a time, Cisco and Caitlin released Barry but remained close, ever ready with physical comfort. Normally Barry loved that. He yearned for touch from the people he cared about. And, within the hug, it had felt grounding and good, but out of it again he just felt hollow. How was he supposed to put that into words?

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists tight. "Lately, no matter what I do, I just want to…hurt someone. Pound someone into the ground until they break, and feel as broken as I do."

"Barry…" Caitlin said softly.

"I won't do that." Barry opened his eyes, seeing how his friends had moved to bookend each other in front of him, faces drawn with concern. "God, I…I know I don't really want that, but sometimes, I feel like I need to scream and hit something, and there's no outlet other than patrol. But I can't risk losing it out there when people's lives depend on me…" He deflated, wishing he hadn't demolished the hospital bed so he had somewhere to sit.

Caitlin smiled with endless patience. "Maybe you need to blow off steam another way, Barry. Talking about it, telling us what you're feeling, that's good, that's a great start, but you are allowed to take a break."

"What, take up a hobby?" Barry said humorlessly. "Date? Tried that, failed miserably."

"Why does it have to be dating?" Cisco prompted with a twist of his lips. "There are other ways to blow off steam, if you…get what I'm sayin'."

"Cisco," Caitlin wrinkled her nose.

"I don't mean break some poor girl's heart," Cisco held up his hands toward her defensively, "I mean mutual understanding that gettin' busy is all that's on the table, okay? Everybody happy come morning."

Caitlin shook her head, but couldn't resist a teasing smile.

Barry huffed an abortive laugh. "Maybe…but that's not really me, you know?"

"Hey, metas can't attack every night," Cisco said more seriously. "The boys in blue can handle plenty on their own. We can do movie nights right here in the Labs, relax, and still be on call if something big comes up. I miss getting our geek on, man." He nudged Barry with his shoulder. "Get take-out. Play some GTA Heists."

"I will never understand how you two can fight crime and put away the people who commit heists," Caitlin said, "and then want to spend your free time pretending to be those same people in a video game."

"Wanton destruction and escapism is good for the soul, sister," Cisco countered.

This time Barry laughed genuinely. It felt good—familiar. He'd started to forget what normal happiness was like. "I'd like that," he said, thinking of all the nights that had differed from Camo, where the big bad had just been some car thief or purse snatcher. The Flash didn't need to give up his evenings for that.

"It's a date," Cisco said. "We'll pick a night this week."

"For now, just get some rest," Caitlin gripped his shoulder, "maybe find some time to take off from work coming up, some vacation days if you can. You have a right to stop and breathe, Barry. If you were anyone else…"

"What?"

She sighed as her hand dropped back down between them. "It's been weeks, Barry, months like this, don't think we haven't noticed. I thought maybe things were finally getting better, but…well. Some people find medication to be helpful."

"Only my metabolism would burn through anything I took," Barry finished what she hadn't said. Having a healing factor wasn't always a good thing. If he was…unbalanced, how could he find equilibrium again when he had superpowers?

"That doesn't mean we can't figure something out," Caitlin said. "Just keep talking to us. Don't keep us in the dark. Some time off, and the right outlets, may help. But if they don't, you should never feel like being miserable is okay, or the norm. No one is meant to go through life unhappy." When her eyebrows downturned with sympathy, and she smiled through the pain, Barry knew she spoke from experience not condescension. She'd been there, felt low and miserable like nothing could make life worth smiling over again, and had still found a way to crawl her way out—more than once.

"Thanks," Barry said, looking to each of them in turn. "I mean it…thank you. Both of you. Maybe I needed this detour with Camo to get my head on straight."

"Dude," Cisco sneered. "Camo? That sounds seriously lame. It's Camouflage," he drew out the ending syllable dramatically, "excuse you. Otherwise, it sounds like Camel, and you better not ever get a supervillain who deserves a name like that."

Barry laughed reflexively, almost naturally. "Do you know how annoying it is to say 'Camouflage' over and over again? Camo just comes more naturally to my internal monologue."

"Well your internal monologue don't get a say over my naming convention."

Barry held a hand to his chest as if affronted. "Who's the hero here again?"

"And whose suit you wearing and tech you using, Miss Thang," Cisco snapped his fingers.

Barry laughed again, and that one was easier, freer, especially when Caitlin joined in and Cisco laughed with them. Barry hugged Cisco tight, longer than he maybe needed to, then did the same with Caitlin. "Sleep," he said, "tonight I'm going to sleep. I'll keep you guys posted, I promise. Scrounging up some vacation days sounds like just what I need."

Barry resisted the urge to hurl his phone at the far wall in Jitters. He didn't have any vacation days. Every time he thought he was getting better, feeling better, and maybe on the upswing out of…whatever was wrong with him, something from the very small and mundane to admittedly tragic would rear its head and pull him right back down into the muck.

The barista had already gotten his order wrong once, and now his calendar betrayed that he had used up his last sick day and vacation day ages ago, and wouldn't accrue any more for weeks.

"Barry!" the girl filling orders declared as she slid his drink onto the pickup counter.

At least this time it was the right size, and clearly had 'The Flash' printed on it next to his handwritten name.

Barry—The Flash. On a good day it would have made him snicker. Today, he snatched up the drink without even a mild thank you and took a quick pull to feel some semblance of a caffeine rush.

He nearly spat his first sip out onto the floor. One of the girls in the back was new. She'd burnt the espresso shot. It tasted terrible, but Barry didn't have time to get back in line. Jitters was always jam-packed this time of day.

He shouldered his way through the crowd of people to the back condiments station by the exit. He needed to add as much cream and sugar as he could to save some semblance of his morning coffee fix.

A girl he'd seen at Jitters before, another morning coffee frequenter, flashed him a smile as he passed her, and may have even added a greeting or good morning, but he ignored her and pressed on toward the sugar. He knew he was being snippy and surly, but he was not having a good morning. He wasn't having a good anything. All of Cisco and Caitlin's supportive words and gestures the night before seemed stale now as Barry plummeted right back down to rock bottom.

He wanted to chuck his coffee at the window, smash the napkin case in his fist, pick up the extra coffee cup lids, throw them to the floor, and crush them under his—

"Come on, Lenny, you can't tell me you wouldn't love a taste of The Flash."

Barry's lid went flying to the floor after all as he fumbled not to disrupt his very full coffee all over his hands.

"Your euphemisms are not as funny as you think they are, sis. Coffee, black, is just fine by me."

Snart. And his sister, Lisa. In Jitters. Shit.

"With enough sugar to kill a diabetic," Lisa said, so close that Barry was certain they were standing right behind him, but when he dared sneak a peek, he saw that the pair had passed him unaware from the entrance and stood in line about two feet back. "And what, like your puns are always so hilarious?"

"Clearly."

Barry turned forward again, so they wouldn't catch sight of his face if they glanced back, but he could still hear them. He tried to nonchalantly add cream and sugar to his coffee as he'd planned.

"They're not so bad, ya know. Team Flash," Lisa said in a whisper that would go unnoticed by anyone else nearby, since most people were buried in their phones.

"I'm aware of everything they did to save you, Lisa. And I'm grateful. Does it look like I've given them a hard time lately?"

"You could have helped with that whole Trickster/Mardon debacle."

"I did help."

"Way you tell it, you played house waiting for Flash to come home—cocoa, Lenny, really?—then ratted out the man who sprung you only to duck and cover. You could have called, left a message if you were only going to give up that much. Be honest. You wanna bend that boy in half."

Barry tore his second sugar packet in two, showering sugar all over the countertop.

Snart and Lisa's voices started to grow fainter as they moved up further in line. Barry backed up a few steps while he stirred his cream and sugar to keep within hearing distance.

"Can we drop this?" Snart grit out—honestly upset.

"Come on, Lenny, when's the last time you got laid?"

"Don't you have a man to see about a diamond, sis, or you gonna pester me the whole way to getting my morning coffee?"

"Please, like you didn't decide on this particular coffee shop on the off chance of running into Cisco and getting a line on your boy."

Barry's gut twisted like he'd been punched—Lisa still didn't know his name, or that Barry himself frequented Jitters. As long as he kept her from spotting his face, that wouldn't change. But her teasing wasn't just empty jokes. Snart's reactions made it clear that she knew exactly what buttons she was pressing.

Especially when Snart said, "Do I look like I'm retiring any time soon? Your side trip this morning—which you should be getting to, I'll remind you, if we're going to pull this off in the next few weeks—is proof enough of that. Kid like The Flash wouldn't stoop to fraternizing with someone like me even if he does think I have a soft spot for you."

"You do have a soft spot for me."

"I do," Snart said with a rare touch of tenderness.

"And for him."

"Lisa…"

"See ya later, Lenny. But do consider trying a taste of The Flash instead of your usual humdrum fallbacks."

Barry pivoted to face away from the entrance as he felt Lisa breeze past him out the door. He waited a safe amount of time, then darted back to the condiments counter to get a new lid. He took a sip to calm his nerves. Still terrible, but at least passable now. He'd risk being late though if it meant getting a fresh coffee…and the chance to confront Snart.

But why did Barry want to bother? What did it matter if Snart had a thing for him? It wasn't as if Barry had ever caught the guy flirting with someone to have guessed his preferences before now. Unless—had he been flirting with Barry all this time and Barry just hadn't gotten the hint?

No. Nothing so blatant. Maybe mild interest in Barry that he'd always assumed was just to get a rise out of him, like Snart always got a rise out of him. Mocking him, lying to him, betraying him. And all that, that got Snart's crank turning? Even when he warned Barry about Jesse and Mardon, that was only to make things even after Lisa, and apparently because he'd been hoping to bend Barry over the coffee table. Maybe he would have tried, too, if Iris hadn't been there.

Barry barely held back from crushing his coffee cup in his hands. Snart wasn't good, or redeemable. He just wanted to use Barry like everybody else. Like Wells had. Like the department did, never appreciating his work. Like Joe and Iris who kept trying to pretend that he still belonged in their family when they had Wally now. Like his own father, who'd abandoned him the second he tasted freedom. Even Cisco and Caitlin wouldn't have looked twice at Barry if he wasn't The Flash, if he didn't make their lives more interesting and exciting by being part of the team.

Loving his sister, that didn't make Snart a good man. He'd still killed given the chance. Still betrayed Barry at every turn. Still saw Barry only suit deep, not even skin deep, just leather and lightning. He didn't care about Barry Allen. No one did.

Barry turned around. He spotted Snart in line, halfway to the counter now. Why couldn't Barry hurt someone first? Why couldn't he have the upper hand? Why couldn't he win and finally catch a break?

Snart was smooth and handsome and exuded sex appeal. It wasn't as if Barry was blind to that. Patty had been sweet and soft and loving. Barry didn't want sweet, or soft. He definitely didn't want loving. He shouldn't have to be the nice guy all the time, who couldn't even have the one person he truly wanted, because they either didn't want him back or they left when he couldn't risk being honest with them and putting them in danger.

Snart could take of himself. Barry wouldn't have to hide that he was The Flash. He wouldn't have to hide anything, worry about anything. He could take what he wanted, and blow off that steam rising from within him, ready to make him blow up and do something stupid that he could never, ever come back from. This option was better. This could be everything Barry needed.

He started to walk forward.

Cisco had told him not to break some poor girl's heart. No worries there. At worst, Barry would get some no-strings-attached sex out of the deal, if Snart was interested, and Barry believed now that he definitely was. At best…well.

Wouldn't it be something if Barry could swindle the unflinching Captain Cold? If he could get Snart to actually fall for him, head over heels in love with him, and then rip the rug out from under his feet. It would be such sweet revenge for everything Snart had ever done to Barry. A guy like Snart probably wouldn't even feel it, but it would still be so very validating to finally be the one on top.

"Crap!" Barry said as he shouldered into Snart—purposely, but playing up that he'd tripped.
"Sorry, shoot, I am so sorry, I just—Snart?!"

"Well, well…this is an expensive coat, Barry. I hope you're planning on paying for that." Snart smirked despite his words, amused at seeing Barry rather than upset that he now had coffee all down the left side of his trench coat.

Other than the mess Barry had made, Snart looked good. He always did, always so slick and put together, even when just wearing jeans and a leather jacket. Today he looked like a businessman to better blend in with the crowd. Blue suit, dark trench, navy button down and a shiny striped tie. A faint scent of cologne wafted up from him, and when Barry reminded himself of his goal, the scent and sight of the man made his gut burn hot with anticipation.

He feigned concern for the people around them, and leaned in close to Snart. "What are you doing here? Lowering yourself to robbing coffee shops now?"

Snart chuckled. "Just passing through. Usually I'm a morning person, despite my frequent late nights, but even I need a shot of caffeine to get going."

"Of course you're a morning person," Barry grumbled, honestly annoyed at that, but still playing into his game. "Well my morning is thoroughly ruined now, thanks."

"I'm sure you can get back in line for another cup."

"Was already planning to. The new girl doesn't know what she's doing." Barry subtly insinuated himself beside Snart in line. To anyone watching they were just two friends catching up as they ran into each other on their way to work. "Want a hint? Request for Esther to make your order. She's been here forever."

Snart stared at Barry as he stood there, holding his now half-empty coffee cup and not making any attempts to move away. "Are you angling to budge in line, Scarlet? That's awfully villainous of you."

Of course Snart fell into their usual banter—Barry barely even had to make an effort. He pulled on a smile, and watched Snart's expression shift into mild surprise. "It's not budging if you're going to pay for it."

"And why would I do that?"

"You owe me for the cocoa you stole at Christmas."

"I wouldn't consider that a satisfying experience. No mini marshmallows, remember?"

"Getting frustrated with too many unsatisfying experiences lately?"

Snart's smile fell, his eyes narrowed and expression guarded as he searched Barry's face for an angle. Barry didn't try to hide exactly which angles he was interested in. He bit his lip and glanced down Snart's body without an ounce of subtlety—he wanted his offer to be crystal clear.

They were next in line.

"Make my morning better, Snart. Buy me coffee. Then next time I'll owe you one. And maybe, some night soon, if you play your cards right…" He trailed, leaned in close again, and whispered softly beside Snart's ear, "I'll let you bend me in half like you want."

Snart visibly shuddered when Barry didn't pull away.

Jackpot.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" the cashier asked.

Barry grinned as he turned to face her, leaving Snart tongue-tied and gaping in a very un-Snart manner. This game was satisfying already. "Two large Flashes to go, please. Shot of chocolate and whipped cream for his. And can you make sure Esther makes them? She's the best."

Barry set his ruined coffee on the counter, which the cashier took with a questioning look, but once she spotted the state of Snart's jacket, she understood and threw it away.

Snart paid with a professional smile, but didn't say a word.

Once they moved out of line to wait for their order, he caught Barry's eye. "Chocolate and whipped cream?"

"You're the one with the sweet tooth apparently. Trust me. You'll like it."

"Will I now?"

Barry made a point of licking his lips—slowly. "You got a phone?"

Snart's shock dissolved in favor of an accusatory scowl hidden behind a tight smirk. "Real funny, kid. Almost had me going for a second. You think I'm that gullible?"

Barry rolled his eyes. Of course Snart suspected a trap, but Barry's plans had nothing to do with tracking Snart's location or calling the CCPD.

He took out his own phone and pressed it to Snart's chest, forcing him to clutch it or risk it falling to the floor. "Here's mine. Take my number. Call sometime if you want. Or don't. Whichever. But if you do…I swear it is not a trick, and I guarantee you won't regret it." Barry left his phone in Snart's hands, grazing the skin of his fingers as he pulled back, and held the man's gaze the entire time to prove he wasn't joking.

He wasn't, after all. He needed an outlet, and Snart would be so fun to lose himself in for a while—and then betray once Barry was done with him, just as he'd been betrayed.

"Wynters!" the barista called, which was the name Snart had given with their order.

Barry left Snart standing there, and took his time picking up their drinks. He thanked the girl properly, with a slight look of sympathy in his eyes to say that it wasn't her fault he was back for a third time, then returned to his nemesis.

Snart's expression was still guarded, wary, but the smile was real, proving his interest and how anxious he was to see where this might lead.

When Barry gave him his coffee, Snart handed back Barry's phone. They parted ways at the exit, Snart left, Barry right heading toward the precinct. But when Barry checked his phone later, there was a new number saved in his contacts.

Labelled simply 'Len'.

TBC...

TIMELINE NOTE:
This is canon-divergent in that it assumes Legends of Tomorrow doesn't happen. The singularity did occur, but Ronnie's sacrifice closed it without any breaches forming, so there is no Zoom or anything from Earth-2 either. Everything else happened as you know it. Some things that may have had some influence from Zoom's existence, like Patty leaving, happened slightly differently, but still happened close enough to lead us to where this fic begins. It is set a few weeks after Patty left Central City.

CONTENT NOTE:
First of all, I want to make it clear that despite how this starts off, there will never be any physical abuse between Barry and Len, outside of the normal canon-typical violence when they fight. This will be purely emotional manipulation/abuse on Barry's part, which since he is operating on false pretenses, lends itself to dubious consent. I choose that tag because Len can't make a conscious choice about what he wants when he doesn't have ALL of the information, but Barry does approach things as sex only, for fun only, even if he actually means to try and get Len to fall for him deeper than that. And Len of course is entirely on board with everything that happens…until he learns the truth.

This has turned from a dark headcanon into something quite personal for me, so I also want it clear that when I write from Barry's perspective going through what he's going through, I do speak from a position of authority as someone who has experienced depression, anxiety, and more, which at times has required medication, and at times has not. That isn't to say I'm the end-all authority, everyone is different, this is purely my interpretation.

Some may think of this fic as OOC for Barry, and I think that's true. This isn't our current canon Barry, this is merely a possibility, one among many, something that maybe could have happened given what we have seen of Barry if certain events played out differently. That is what I'm exploring, so if this isn't something you're interested in, I completely understand, I won't be hurt even if you're a familiar reader of mine, and I wish you the best with whatever fics you do read while this one goes through its journey.

I promise you this – it will hurt, but it will also heal. Barry's plan will not go as he expects, and when everything comes to a head, it will get worse before it gets better, but there WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING.

Keeping all of that in mind, as well as the tags, the premise, and my warnings, if you still want to come along for this ride, I welcome you, I welcome comments and critique and discussion, even about the weightier things this fic will address. I also want to make it clear that if anyone ever wants to hit me up to discuss something more personal prompted by this fic, feel free. Tumblr might be the easiest in that regards, just let me know. This fic is a sort of therapy as well, for those of us who've been where Barry is—and those who haven't.

It does get better. There are better ways. There is a happy ending for everyone, even if that doesn't mean being happy every day.

Thank you.