Holy shit, 12k for this chapter, I just...well, you deserved it.
It was the rush and thrill of their first kiss when Barry was iced to the wall in Tiffany's, combined with the mirrored want he'd felt in the alley and so many times before and after that when he'd given in despite trying to resist, all capped off with the knowledge that this, finally, was the real Len, and Barry didn't have to hold back.
Barry wasn't as good as some people thought. He'd been through too much. Suffered and survived too much. Because of that he had been driven to almost do despicable things, and in some cases…he had done despicable things, even if his friends would tell him it was necessary. He may not have driven his hand into Zoom's chest like he wanted, but he'd still led the man to his death. And he'd come so close to going that one step further with Alexa.
But this man, who those same people calling Barry a hero often thought of as an untrustworthy scoundrel, had pulled Barry back from the brink.
There was good in Leonard Snart. And there was bad in Barry Allen. They saw both in each other and balanced each other out in ways Barry hadn't found with anyone else. Safe was indeed the word for how Len made him feel. Like he could be himself and work little by little to be better, never once doubting that Len would be there beside him. As a friend. A partner. A teammate. And maybe something more.
"I love you, Len," Barry had said so easily, because Len wanted to hear it and Barry meant it when he said it—oh how he meant it, much as it had surprised him when he first realized how much he truly wanted to say the words. If Len wanted to hear them, then the feelings Barry had so hoped were real from his nemesis had to be there somewhere, even if Len never said the words back to him.
They kissed—Len kissed him—with a hand on Barry's face and no hesitation as he moved in closer and his free hand found a firm hold at Barry's waist. In the dark and quiet of the Labs closed down for the night, there were no interruptions, no ticking clocks, no battles to be won.
"Tell me how you want me," Barry spoke breathily against Len's lips, licking out with a teasing tongue.
Len shuddered, the grip of both hands tightening before he released Barry. "On your knees," he said, eyes dark with desire and voice low. "Been thinking about those lips for too long, Scarlet, and how they'll look opening up for me."
A shot of heat went straight to Barry's groin. He knew he had a tendency to be the more submissive partner—he enjoyed it, not to say he couldn't be dominant too—but a week ago he never would have believed he could achieve full mast from Captain Cold's voice alone. "Yes, sir," he said, and dropped without a waver until his knees hit the floor.
With the parka still draped over the desk, only Len's sweater and thermal pants separated them. Barry had touched Len before, over his underwear, felt him harden, and just barely grazed inside for more, but this would be unfettered access.
"Ah, ah, ah," Len waggled a finger at him when Barry reached for his waistband. "You're supposed to be taking orders, remember? I haven't told you what to do next."
This was what Barry loved about Len, the thrill of the dance that made their encounters so fun.
Dropping his hands to rest on his thighs, Barry waited on his knees beneath Len, who cupped his cheek again and grazed a thumb along Barry's jaw to his lips. Barry wanted to lap at it with his tongue and suck it inside his mouth, but he hadn't been expressly asked to do that yet.
This was a test, and Barry did so want to please Len. So only when he pushed past Barry's lips with the pad of his thumb did Barry open wider and suck as he was prompted.
"That's it," Len said, rough and rumbling, "give me a preview, kid, of how good you're gonna feel. How hot that mouth is. I wanna make this last. Enjoy myself. That flush to your cheeks. Your eyes watching me while I use those pretty lips."
Barry sucked harder at the encouragement.
"Mmm…gorgeous. Breathtaking, truly. Never spoke praise for a single inch of you I didn't mean, just didn't expect I'd get to stake my claim on all those inches," he pulled his hand free, causing Barry to lean forward after him, "with every…inch…of mine. Why don't you take a peek, Scarlet, nice and slow?"
Slow. Len was the master of slowing Barry down, so it should come as no surprise that he'd draw things out now. But at least Barry had permission.
Fighting to keep his speed under control, he reached once more for Len's slacks and slowly opened them. He wanted to pull Len out, but a peek didn't mean he could touch. Instead, he lifted Len's underwear over the growing bulge and tugged down to reveal him to the open air. There were several inches to salivate over, but that's all he did—admire, waiting for what Len would say next.
"Maybe you can take direction," Len said, hand returning to Barry's cheek but this time continuing up into his hair to gently card through the strands.
When Len had first been love-drunk on Bivolo's power, he'd said how much he wanted to run his fingers through Barry's hair, an act that made Barry's nerves tingle. Len was a different man now, less open maybe but no less commanding, and the foundation of the things he'd said and done was real.
"You set the pace, Barry. Go ahead," Len encouraged him, urging him closer without pulling or holding firm. "I'm merely hanging on for purchase. This is all you. Now open up." His hand brushed tenderly along the back of Barry's head, then feathered through Barry's hair with light tugs, making Barry's eyelids flutter as he leaned the rest of the way forward.
The heady smell excited him further, lips parting to finally taste Len. The whammied version of him might have moaned with wanton abandon, but the real Len only sighed, a sharp exhale of air that urged Barry on. Twirling his tongue, Barry sucked Len's head eagerly, saliva building already before he took the other man in further and dragged his tongue down the underside.
Len's breaths came shorter, heavier while his hand kept a steady motion through Barry's hair, then down his cheek, thumb edging Barry's mouth where he was sucking Len in. If Len's eyes closed, it was only briefly, always snapping open to lock with Barry's gaze and watch the show.
"Deeper," he said. "Deep as you can, Scarlet. Wanna see how much you can take."
Barry was grateful he'd switched to sweatpants because The Flash suit would be painful in this state. Without permission to touch himself, he poured his desires into obeying Len's softly spoken commands, swallowing him back—deeper, deeper—until his nose pressed to the hairs at Len's base and he willed his throat to stay loose to handle it all.
"Good boy, Barry," Len said, all husky and rough, as the tangle of his fingers moving through Barry's hair grew firmer. "Such a good boy. You're gonna keep being good for me, aren't you?"
Fuck, Barry needed to be touched if Len was going to keep talking like that. Whining around Len's length, he continued to deep-throat him, eventually having to pull away for breath. With spittle dribbling down his chin, he gave an answering nod before returning with gusto, sucking harder and taking Len in all the way with one lewd swallow.
Finally, Len moaned, the sexiest sound Barry could imagine, leaving him hard as a rock with the added attention on his scalp as he gave Len what he'd asked for.
"A praise kink…and one for power play?" Len said. "Oh, kid, we're gonna mesh perfectly. Not that I ever had any doubt. And if you wanna swap places sometimes…you just say the word."
That would be enthralling too—ordering Captain Cold around and having him cater to Barry's whims. Next time, he thought, but tonight he wanted to stay right where he was.
"Not gonna last much longer," Len said, hips rocking, nails scratching pleasantly across Barry's scalp as he bobbed more fervently, taking Len deeper each time, faster—faster.
Then Barry pulled away with a pop. "Want me to drink you down, Lenny?" He fluttered his eyes up at Len, reddened lips stretching into a slow grin. "Tell me. Order me."
With a growl, Len yanked on Barry's hair just shy of too harsh, making Barry whimper. "Finish me off. Show me what you can really take."
A kick of lightning answered and Len was down Barry's throat again, hands lifting to seek his hips and hold him in place as he sucked and bobbed and swallowed—
"Shit."
The spurt of heat made Barry hang on tighter, following orders until he knew Len was sucked dry, lazily carding fingers through Barry's hair once more.
"And you wondered…how I could want you," Len said, returning his thumb to the edge of Barry's mouth when he pulled off, slow, so slow, obscene really, which Len ate right up to witness. He swiped at the wet dribble down Barry's chin, then passed his thumb along Barry's moistened lips. "Gorgeous…"
For once, Barry believed him, because that wicked expression couldn't be anything but honest. He wondered how he must look, positively sinful no doubt for Len to stare at him like that. Wishing he could reach for Len, bring him closer, anything, but wanting to play the game and wait for an order, Barry let his hands drop to his sides and waited.
"Such a good boy again," Len said, tracing Barry's lips with reverence, the act and words making Barry whine in want to be touched properly. "Don't worry, Barry. We're far from done. Stand up."
Barry complied in one swift motion, mourning the loss of Len's hand when it fell away, but anxious for what came next.
"Kiss me," Len ordered, "slowly."
At this rate, Barry was going to come without ever being touched.
Leaning forward, his hands came up to take hold of Len's face, but he hesitated, and only after Len nodded did he follow through. Hands encasing the thief's perfect cheekbones, Barry descended at a snail's pace until he could lick his way between Len's lips and deepen the connection one millimeter at a time. In this way, he passed Len's own taste back to him, letting the kiss carry with it all his want for more.
Len's hands settled on Barry's waist, but one began to move forward and slip beneath the elastic of his sweats, grazing the skin and then…
Barry trembled as Len's deft fingers disappeared into his underwear and skimmed the length of him all the way down. Gasping, he broke the kiss with a plaintive noise choking out of him.
"Ya know, Scarlet, seeing you when your clothes burned off was quite the hardship," Len said, while palming Barry down the front of his sweatpants. Barry struggled not to giggle at the pun, while simultaneously whimpering at the feel of that hand. "Drop your arms so I can get closer."
Instantly complying, Barry withdrew his fingers from Len's face, standing motionless as his nemesis touched him, though his chest rose and fell heavily and noises kept building and pouring from his throat.
Len lowered his mouth toward Barry's neck like a vampire going in for the kill, one hand at his hip, one down his pants, the all-encompassing nature of his presence making it impossible to do anything but melt, however contradictory coming from Captain Cold.
"You're mine to play with, aren't you?" Len said before placing a kiss beneath Barry's ear, hand ever-moving.
"Y-Yes," Barry nodded, stretching his neck for more.
"Good boy. We'll fulfill a few fantasies tonight, I think, coz I expect to come a second time, Barry, and you still need to catch up."
"Yes."
"Think you can run like this?"
"What?" Barry's eyes shot wide at the suggestion, rising up on tiptoe in search of Len's hand when it pulled away, the man's entire body moving back as he offered a sideways smirk.
"I want you home, Barry. Back at the apartment. Not enough accommodating surfaces here. Those tiny beds would buckle beneath us with what I have planned."
The prospect sounded marvelous, but getting there…less so. Barry had never run with a hard-on before. It didn't sound fun. Though Len was mostly hard too, still hanging proudly over the top of his underwear until he tucked himself away with a faint grimace.
"Not too fast now," he said, "I want my parka and gun at home with us, and those are not allowed to catch fire. You get us there in one piece, I'll finish you off before we move on to phase two."
Phase two had Barry licking his lips, but he still had to ask, "Please, will you touch me a little more first?" knowing full well how desperate he sounded.
Len considered the request as if it was a huge sacrifice, but stepped closer, breath danced along Barry's cheek. "I suppose I could allow that. Will you do anything I ask of you if I do? Only if you truly want to, of course," he added as a quiet aside, breaking character to assure Barry that he would never push for something unwanted.
"Whatever you ask of me," Barry said. "Tonight, I am all yours."
"Only tonight?" Len gave another sly smirk.
Even playing games and surrendering to Len completely, there was the promise of tomorrow. Smiling in return was easy.
"See, I'm a betting man," Len said, hand suddenly at Barry's waistband again, sliding in low and sure, "and I'd wager you won't be able to get enough of me." Again, he stroked Barry, finding pooling wetness at his tip and the same slickness he'd left behind. "You can have a few requests too, kid, so tell me. Where do you want my hand?"
The slow slide of those fingers made it difficult to think, but multiple possibilities sprung to mind. Knowing where the night would lead, Barry couldn't help asking, "Lower."
"Already?" Len chuckled. "Mmm, I like that you're hungry for it."
Being quiet wasn't an option, because for several minutes, each new stroke up Barry's length was followed by a low dip between his legs where the pads of rough fingertips circled his entrance and prodded ever so gently, but never more than a tease. When Len finally pulled his hand free, Barry was shaking.
"Get us home, Scarlet, and we can pick up where we left off."
Not one to delay, especially after that order, Barry zipped to gather Len's gear, sheathing the cold gun in its holster on Len's leg but pulling the jacket around his own shoulders. He paused in front of Len to show off the matching navy of his STAR Labs sweatshirt and the parka, affording him a pleased grin, before they were off.
The thrill of being flashed away in Barry's arms never failed to delight Len. His pants were slightly uncomfortable, but all would soon be rectified. He'd had Barry Allen's mouth on him. He'd felt The Flash with his own hands. Nothing could pull him from this high, not even going impossible speeds only to suddenly stop—inside his apartment.
"Did you just phase us through the door?"
Barry had set Len down but stiffened like a cornered animal, glancing back at the door behind them, then at Len with oversized puppy eyes. "I didn't…mean to?"
"Eager indeed," Len chuckled, stepping into Barry's space once more because being close was key. He was going to wreck this kid in all the best ways.
For a moment, being in his home with Barry for the first time since he'd returned to his senses resonated like a gong that Len needed a plan. He'd still gone full alert the first time he brought Barry here, despite losing most self-preservation whenever his eyes landed on the speedster. This time, he looked Barry over thoroughly, standing in his entryway, and considered if he really was out of his mind for letting his enemy into his home.
The problem before was that he hadn't been able to assess the angles of what came next or think of how to stay ahead, but now…he was the literal king of Central City, on top of the world right where he belonged, and he had The Flash under his thumb in every way possible—while secretly working at the kid's side to keep the city safe. It was the perfect compromise to have everything Len wanted without losing the changes in himself he'd gained.
It wasn't an invasion to have Barry here. It was a culmination. And, after all, there were still several climaxes to come.
"Get me on the bed," Len said, pulling Barry back to the moment, uncaring that the main room was dark because there was only one room they needed to utilize right now. "Lights on when we get there. I want a good show as you undress. Then I plan to have you writhing."
The way Barry shuddered was visible even while wearing the parka. The little imp—donning Len's coat was the most ridiculous tease, especially since the last time he'd worn it, that had been all he was wearing.
A spark and the smell of ozone, and Len was on the bed. The lights illuminated the room as requested as he removed the cold gun and set it on the nightstand while keeping rapt attention on the slow way Barry let the parka drop from his shoulders. Kid was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants. It shouldn't have been erotic, yet the sight had Len hardening that much further, regaining what he'd lost during the trip home.
If Barry was sometimes shy in the bedroom, he didn't show it. His sneakers and socks were already gone, but instead of going for the sweatshirt first, he slid the pants down his thighs, leaving his more obviously tented underwear behind, soaked through in the front a dark red—of course they were red.
Barry bit his lip as he teased a hand beneath the sweatshirt, drawing it up to reveal his taut abs, while his other hand tugged the underwear low enough to tease a hint of dark hair.
"Underwear first," Len said, eyeing Barry ravenously. "I want an appealing image to recall every time I see that logo in the future."
With a low giggle, Barry obeyed as he'd obeyed everything else, shimmying the underwear off. They dropped down his slender legs, leaving him exposed—hard and weeping—still wearing the sweatshirt. Once more, he drew a hand up his stomach, the other twitching to touch himself while he whined softly like he urgently needed someone to touch him.
"Come here," Len ordered, scooting to the end of the bed, fully dressed still, but quickly kicking away his boots, "we'll keep the sweatshirt on a while longer, but you deserve a reward for such good behavior."
That beaming Allen smile was a ray of sunshine in Len's dark life, making it easy to forget how much darkness surrounded him. Given the long day and night, they were both running on adrenaline more than anything, yet Len didn't feel a lick of exhaustion. He'd likely feel it soon and well into tomorrow, but for now, his mind was singularly focused.
Barry came forward as directed and climbed into Len's lap, whimpering as his erection became trapped between them. Kissing Barry hard, Len held the boy securely only to flip them, tumbling them to the side so he could lay Barry out on the bed. Barry was so warm and flush. He spread himself out and waited for whatever Len planned to do to him.
"Let's put that mouth to work again." Len brought his fingers to Barry's lips. "Then I'll put mine to work too."
Sucking Len's middle and pointer finger into his mouth, Barry was clearly on board with the idea, no doubt having full understanding of where those fingers would go next. Once they were wet enough, Len pulled them free and hunkered low between Barry's legs.
"Although…I was debating if I should make you wait. Take two for myself and only allow you one?"
The horrified expression that filled Barry's face made the ploy entirely worth it.
"But I suppose that would be far too cruel even for a supervillain," Len grinned, descending just as he brought the tip of one finger beneath Barry.
The kid tasted how he smelled, coppery like a storm but fresh and exhilarating too. Len sucked him in and breached the kid's entrance with a slow twist. Barry's moans and whines were the prettiest melody.
Given the lead up to this moment over the long week, and especially with so much teasing tonight, Len barely started to stretch Barry open with a second finger before he felt him tense and gasp that he was close, then Len was hanging on as Barry came with a quiet thrum of his powers.
Sucking Barry clean while both hands traveled up his stomach, Len reached the edge of the sweatshirt and felt the faintly puckered skin of the healing knife wound.
He'd barely been able to see it during the striptease for how the redness had calmed, but it wasn't completely gone yet. Stroking at it gently, Len offered a silent promise once more that he would never cause harm to Barry again if he could help it.
Understanding what had made Len pause, Barry reached down to rest a hand over his on the fading wound, cheeks flush but smile soft. "You need to undress too, Len. Please? I wanna see you."
Len's other self might not have cared, but the real him felt old insecurities stir that Barry would be disappointed by what was kept hidden beneath his many layers. "Bear in mind…I'm not as young as you are."
Barry snickered.
"I mean I'm not in my 20s anymore," Len flicked his gaze to the side, "and I have scars that last."
"Yeah, I'm sure you're hideous," Barry laughed a little louder, then seemed to catch on to Len's tension. "Wait, you're seriously insecure? You're like a GQ model. But," he propped up on his elbows, speaking hurriedly to ease Len, as if they weren't already in an intimate position with Len tucked between his thighs, "even if you're not toned or smooth or whatever you think I'd get hung up on, you're crazy to think I'm not going to love everything about seeing what's under that sweater.
"Plus, if it hadn't been for the lightning," he turned small and bashful himself now, "this would be far more humbling. I know I'm still lanky, but I was super-skinny before. No abs. No muscle tone at all. Total string-bean geek. Sometimes I forget there's anything about me that's all that nice to look at. Especially being friends with The Arrow," he finished with a grimace.
"Queen?" Len grimaced with him. "He hardly compares to you."
"Ha ha."
"Only I'm not laughing. I know what I like, and you could lose all this fine muscle tone," Len ran his hands up Barry's thighs, "and nothing about my desire would change."
The color filling Barry's cheeks was as pretty as his smile. "Yeah? Then believe me when I say the same thing. Lemme see."
Clever kid. Not that Len had planned to keep anything from him. Sitting up on his knees, he peeled his sweater over his head.
"Oh my god!" Barry exclaimed, sitting up with a lurch. "Where did you get those?"
Len blinked down in confusion, far more startled by Barry's outburst than he'd let on. Spreading out from his heart were branching thin red scars like a miniature lightning storm. "Those are new," he said in awe, tentatively touching one. They didn't hurt, but they would definitely last. "Must be from tonight."
"From me? When I… Oh my god," Barry said again, pressing his palm over Len's heart. "I'm so sorry."
"You brought me back from the dead," Len said, sliding his hand overtop Barry's. "A little lightning is a small price to pay. Besides, I kinda like 'em. Much better than the others." Than the many scars painted across his skin. Because these were new in several ways. These were hopeful.
Holding Barry captive with the connection of their hands, Len leaned forward to rock them back on the bed. "Now, I don't believe you're stretched enough, Scarlet. While I finish undressing, you get the supplies from the nightstand. Including our vibrating friend in there."
Barry flushed darker beneath him.
"We should start small and work our way up, don't you think?" Len said with promise, rubbing his clothed cock against Barry's naked one and bending down to kiss him briefly.
Nodding once Len pulled back, Barry zipped out from under him in a flurry. Len watched the kid rummage through the nightstand, standing there bare save his sweatshirt, as Len finally removed his own pants and underwear.
"This isn't small," Barry said when he retrieved the dildo.
"Neither am I," Len gave himself a few good strokes, waiting for Barry to look at him. "Assuming you want to—"
"Yes," Barry eyed him with ravenous intent.
"Well then." Waving a hand at the bed, Len invited Barry to join him again.
It was a curious thrill, the way Barry could be in one spot and then in seconds be somewhere else—namely, back beneath Len like he'd never left, dildo, small bottle of lube, and a condom set beside them within easy reach.
Len found Barry just as wet and pliable when he prodded his entrance with slicker fingers than before, getting more of those filthy, breathy moans to spill out of him, until Barry was begging to be stretched wider.
The dildo was definitely a stretch, but it would be good practice for the real thing, and Len wanted to be sure Barry could handle it.
"I can handle anything you give me, Lenny," Barry said, legs crooked up to grant Len access as he pushed the dildo in halfway, opening Barry up easy, like the kid's body knew just how to adapt.
Hearing him say 'Lenny' always shot a jolt to Len's cock. "That's my good boy," he said with a lick of his lips. "You take it and I'll give you something better."
"Yes," Barry whined when Len pushed it that much deeper.
Len knew how he wanted this to go, and he knew they could draw things out since both of them had already released once—much needed releases after too many misses and days of being pent up.
Only when Barry's noises were a constant stream, the slow slide in and out of the dildo just as constant, did Len turn on the vibrations. Barry rocked harder into the motion.
"I-I can…do that too, ya know," Barry said, hand flailing for Len's wrist where he gave off a pulse that shot all the way up Len's arm. Shit, that could come in handy.
"You're stretched enough," Len said. "Go shut the door."
"What?" Barry lamented, pouting at the loss of the dildo when Len sat back. "Why?"
"You'll see once you do it. Thought you were willing to obey anything I asked?"
Barry's bitch-face was especially adorable.
"Then obey, Barry. You won't regret it. And remove the sweatshirt this time."
Slower than usual given the state of him, Barry complied. Len set the dildo aside, slid on the condom, lubed himself slick, then turned to sit on the edge of the bed just as Barry closed the door to discover the full-length mirror on the back of it.
When he glanced over his shoulder with a quirk to his smile, Len patted his thighs. "Have a seat."
With the new scars overshadowing every old one, Len didn't mind the sight himself in the mirror, especially with Barry taking up most of the view when he turned and gradually sheathed himself as requested. Len was larger than the toy, enough that Barry had to pause halfway, but the noises he made were pure pleasure, no pain or plea to stop.
"Shit," he said when he finally relaxed against Len's chest. "You feel amazing."
"We've only just begun, Barry. Look at you. How beautiful you are…" Len said, arms sliding around Barry's waist, one hand gliding glossy fingers over his cock. Barry was a vision sitting wanton in Len's lap, displayed so stunning and sharp in the mirror.
"Can I move?" Barry asked.
"Yeah, Scarlet. Move. Slow."
Barry sat up with a subtle shift, then rocked back down, starting an easy rhythm.
"Slower," Len said.
Forced to slow down, Barry was incapable of staying silent. Their eyes remained locked on each other, on the image in the mirror, as Barry moved as slow as he could, taking Len in, all of him, like the good boy he was, while Len stroked his cock and up his stomach.
Having The Flash in his arms was a treat, but to finally have him, in that moment Len couldn't image Barry ever leaving his side.
He knew when Barry got close, ahead of him—always ahead of him—because of the increase in his breaths and the frequency of pleading whimpers. And the vibrations, a subtle rumble at first, then more intense, surrounding Len with sensation.
When he was certain Barry was about to come, he stopped them.
"On the bed, Scarlet. Still facing the mirror. All fours."
"Len," Barry groaned at the interruption but still stood to follow orders on quaking legs, cock throbbing and steps unsteady. The imagine was just as spectacular when he was in the new position and Len settled in behind him, gripping Barry's hips and smoothing rough palms over his ass before he slid back home.
Barry was more open like this but still tight, lips parting as he panted, eyes hooded, hands gripping into the sheets. He quivered with an all over vibration like reflex and it was Len's turn to moan. The lightning scars on Len's chest seemed even more fitting in plain view above Barry, like they connected the two of them that much deeper—their matching scars, even if not all of them were visible.
"Been thinking 'bout this…for so long," Len said, eyes on Barry in the mirror as he picked up the pace.
"All week?"
"Longer."
The position, the reflection, the connection had Barry staining the mattress in minutes. Almost overlapping, Len tumbled over the edge with him, buried deep inside his Scarlet right where he belonged.
Finally was indeed the word, just like Barry had said when they kissed for the first time unfettered.
Collapsing onto Barry's back, Len slid out carefully, waiting to catch his breath, but of course Barry recovered faster. He rolled over beneath Len, tied off the condom, and zipped away and back again before Len could barely blink, all so he could pull Len down and kiss him senseless without any barriers.
They kept on like that, kissing and clutching at each other, Barry's legs falling open to beckon Len closer, tangled and so content. The rush of emotion running through Len overwhelmed him, and after a week of being able to say it all unencumbered, he longed to do the same now.
"Barry," he whispered, "I…"
Don't ever say it.
Love is a weakness.
No one will ever love you anyway.
And he tried, he really did, but his brain had been rewired and the words he wanted to say choked in his throat.
"I…"
He'd said it to Lisa; he could say it to Barry. He felt it. He meant it.
"I-I…"
"Len? Are you trying to say you love me?" Barry plucked the phrase from Len's tongue. "But you can't say the words?"
God damn it. What must Barry think if Len couldn't say it? He'd leave like Len had feared, assume Len's feelings weren't genuine and want out. Len was such a failure at being decent, at being human. It was easier when he could focus on the physical and forget for a while that his damage went deeper.
Just when he was going to pull away, Barry gripped the back of his neck and yanked him down into another kiss. Len's mouth gasped open in surprise and he felt the pleasant coil of Barry's tongue holding nothing back from their reconnection.
"You mean it," Barry laughed when they parted. "You really mean it."
"But I can't say it," Len bit out, not understanding how Barry could look so happy.
"That's not what matters. You said it all week without meaning it. If you mean it now but can't say it…I'd rather have that. I'd rather have you. The real you."
"Who's dangerous and damaged?"
"Just like me," Barry said without pause. "I'm sorry it took so long to believe you had feelings for me. I couldn't see myself as very lovable lately. I still have trouble understanding what you see in me and how you could ever…" he trailed off and looked away like he was ashamed of having so much self-hatred in him, yet that was something they had in common too.
"Because it feels good to want you, Barry," Len cupped his face, drawing Barry's eyes back to him. "I always wanted you. Maybe not…love. It wasn't love. But now…"
"Now…?"
"Now I know you. I know your terrible pancakes and worse coffee. I know you have a specific smile reserved only for food you like. I know you love puns as much as I do."
"That's debatable," Barry chuckled.
"I know we have the same taste in movies and music and useless Trivial Pursuit facts," Len pushed on. "I know the way your face looks in the morning just before you wake up. I know your dreams and your sorrows and your nightmares. And all that makes it so much easier…" he took a breath, lost in the green of Barry's eyes, "…to love you," and exhaled like he couldn't believe he'd managed to say it.
Barry laughed again, smiling so bright it was blinding.
"I love you, Barry," Len said again, because his father didn't have any power over him now, Alexa didn't, the past didn't, not over either of them.
They went for another kiss and finally Len felt some of the exhaustion he'd been holding at bay creep in, but he didn't get the chance to sag into it, because his phone started to ring.
"Urg." It was probably Lisa. She should know better than to interrupt.
"I think that's coming from your pants."
"I'm aware."
"You gonna answer it?"
"I'd prefer not to."
"Len," Barry chided.
Len really didn't want to move.
"I'll get it," Barry said, zipping out from beneath Len with far too much ease, leaving him to roll onto his back as he watched Barry dig through the thermal pants on the floor and produce a cell phone. He smiled at the Caller ID. "Hey, Lisa." The voice on the other end was clearly not Lisa. "Cisco. What do you mean Joe's been… Shit."
Apparently, West was wondering why his son hadn't come home.
"Okay, okay. Sorry for the round robin, I left my phone at the Labs. I'll call him. None of your business," he added with a blush and flickering grin. "But obviously. Now go away, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Okay, bye."
Barry immediately started dialing another number. Len wanted to protest, because the kid was using his secure phone to call a detective, but he was too sated to intervene.
"Joe? It's me."
West's voice came across loud even from where Len was lying, though he couldn't quite make out the words.
"Relax. I'm at Len's. Because I want to be. Well, I was planning on staying til morning." His eyes darted to Len as if only then realizing he'd invited himself to stay over without asking.
Len pillowed a hand beneath his head and smiled in the affirmative. It was rather amusing watching Barry chat on the phone stark naked.
"We can talk tomorrow, Joe, okay? Afternoon. We're getting lunch at Saints and Sinners. Everyone is. You can come too if you want."
Len sincerely hoped Joe declined the offer, and judging by Barry's expression of relief, he did.
"I know what I'm doing. Yes. That's all I ask. Okay, Joe, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." He ended the call, looking a little winded but not upset. His father hadn't blatantly tried to shut all this down, but there was doubt in Barry's youthful face about the reality of this, about the future, Len could see it. He felt it too.
"Come here," Len beckoned for Barry to return to him.
Barry did so with a soft smile, setting the phone on the nightstand before crawling over to snuggle in beside Len, lying atop the covers together, heads at the foot of the bed.
"I'm gonna tell you a secret," Len said, relishing in the feeling of safety Barry gave him when for most of his life, another person sharing his space like this would have made him flinch. With Barry, Len could hold the boy close and tangle their fingers like he wasn't broken. "I don't have a plan. But for the first time in my miserable life, I'm okay with that. We can do this, come what may. Fathers and sisters and nosy friends aside, I don't give up my spoils easy."
"So I'm a spoil?" Barry poked Len in the ribs.
Turning to press his lips to Barry's temple, Len was aware of the dangers of being this vulnerable with someone, yet that feeling of freedom didn't dwindle. "You are a priceless stolen treasure, Scarlet. Now, how's about a shower and then a long night and morning not moving from this bed?"
The noise of contentment Barry made was worth every bit of danger and complications that might lie ahead of them. "Sounds perfect."
Lunch at Saints and Sinners should have been more awkward than the first time, yet somehow, stumbling in side by side with Len around 12:30pm to find the rest of their crew already assembled didn't feel weird at all.
Sure, they all looked at Len and Barry like they knew—they probably did, they'd all known what a hopeless cause the pair was from the start—but no one teased or prodded, other than Mick raising an eyebrow at Barry with a smirk and nod of thanks. Which probably had something to do with how close Ray was sitting beside him.
There was nothing much to discuss that they hadn't already covered. Lunch was just lunch, just a chance to relax after a long mission and an especially grueling night.
Charles was working again, and the same waitress, who both seemed to accept that this oversized group during the otherwise dismal lunch rush might become something regular. Barry hoped so. Even once the Legends headed out on their next mission, he liked the comradery of team-ups.
"So…sometimes you'll still go with them?" Barry asked Len when talk of the Legends returning to their ship came up.
"When they need me," Len said. "You could give it a try yourself."
"Me and time travel are complicated allies at best, but…maybe."
"Don't sweat it, Red. You can keep the home fires burnin'," Mick raised his glass Barry's direction, causing Ray to chuckle, who was obviously content with the home fires he currently had possession over.
"Maybe I could try my hand at heroing more often," Lisa said, catching Sara's eye with a mischievous glint in her own. "I still think that ship is too much like a boys' club."
"Hear, hear," Sara said.
"You can't be content playing nice with Ramon?" Len frowned at his sister, always protective of her, even if he didn't say so bluntly.
"Well, that's fun too," she leaned over to Cisco beside her to peck his cheek, who blushed at the attention and everyone's eyes turning to him. "And I suppose someone needs to help Lenny round up our new teammates and keep the peace."
It still worried Barry that Baez, Bivolo, and even Mardon would be part of the Rogues going forward, but Len keeping them reigned in was better than all of them acting on their own.
"Speaking of," Len turned an appraising eye on Barry that made him worry he was about to be trapped by the thief's next words, "did you mention something about Pied Piper before? Perhaps we could bring Rathaway into the fold as well. Be a shame for those skills to go to waste."
Ever the schemer. And oh how Barry loved him for it.
But all that would come later, some of it within days, others weeks or months down the line, with moving parts and trading places, but always a home to return to and the familiarity of The Flash versus Captain Cold—in some form or another. For now, they could relax. And they did, with food and drinks and, eventually, the jukebox.
Len and Mick nudged each other when Sara sauntered over to the old machine to plug in a few songs, like there was something special about the occurrence, not that Barry minded the private connection Len shared with Sara anymore. Though after she pulled Lisa onto the dance floor, who then grabbed Barry, both one by one pulling more of their friends away from the table, there was a mild stir of jealousy that washed through him when Sara finally attempted to get Len to join the others.
Initially, Len and Mick shook their heads with a clear 'no thanks' even though everyone else had given in by now—even Ray and Caitlin were dancing together—but Sara wasn't letting them off the hook.
"Come on, Leonard. I'm pretty sure you owe me a dance that is long overdue."
"I don't boogie, kids. Sorry," Len said. "Maybe if it was something—" then the upbeat song changed to a slower melody and his ready excuse fell apart before he could speak it.
He looked momentarily lost, which was all the time Sara needed to pounce. As she pulled him from his chair and in close to her body, Len accepted finally without much struggle, fitting them into a more formal hold that both of them took to like pros at navigating a dance floor, even with a simple two step. All Barry could do, dancing with Lisa, was sway.
"You should ask Lenny to teach you," she said. "He taught me."
"He did?"
Lisa swapped their hold so she could lead and proceeded to drag Barry's hopeless two left feet into a fairly impressive imitation of what Len and Sara were performing.
"Whoa," Barry laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm gonna trample you if you're not careful. Cisco's much better at this than I am."
"Oh really?" She peeked at the smaller man attempting to dance with Iris. Mick and Ray, twirling Caitlin between them, were fairing much better.
"Okay that was a lie," Barry said. "Better teach Cisco too."
Chuckling, Lisa pulled in close to give the side of Barry's mouth a friendly kiss, passing him the most genuine, unguarded look he'd ever seen from her, before she let him go to cut in and acquire Cisco from Iris, still leading, which Cisco clearly needed.
"Hey, this is backwards!"
"Says who, sweetie? Tallest leads."
"You're only taller in heels!"
Falling to hopeless laughter himself, Barry didn't have time to consider sneaking away before Iris had him, falling into step like old hat together because they'd danced many times over the years, even if they weren't destined to be lasting partners.
"Feeling good, Barry?" she asked, still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, one set of hands outstretched to guide them, the others entwined and pulled in close between their bodies.
Glancing at Len and Sara, who were gently teasing each other and interacting with the familiar ease of fast friends, the jealousy in Barry's gut faded away completely when Len's eyes darted to him and he smiled. Barry smiled back, because even holding Iris like this didn't leave Len looking resentful. All the various loves in their lives had places all their own that didn't diminish what they'd found in each other.
"Yeah," Barry said, bringing Iris's hand to his mouth to kiss the top of her fingers, "really good. Of course I haven't talked to Joe yet."
Eyes wide with pity, Iris puffed out a breath. "He…likes Len."
Barry dropped his chin in his skepticism.
"He hates this."
"He hates this. But he'll come around."
"Of course he will, Barry. Whatever makes you happy. That's all I ever wanted too."
"Thank you," Barry said, and as the song came to an end, he twirled Iris in place, making her smile widen before the next song started up and she slipped away just as Len stepped into view.
In the early afternoon at Saints and Sinners, Barry felt a lightness fill his chest that he hadn't known in weeks as he asked Len for a dancing lesson.
The real reason Len decided it was a necessity to don his police uniform and head to the CCPD was because Alexa was being transferred officially to Iron Heights until her trial, and he could not rest easy without witnessing that firsthand.
It definitely wasn't because Barry eyed him up and down like a present to be unwrapped later. Which they had to play out eventually.
"You know, at some point poor Detective West might expect you to sleep in your own bed again," Len said as he and Barry were about to leave the apartment after another quiet night in.
"Or I could just move in with you," Barry said. He was joking of course, all smiles and a teasing eyebrow raise, but the offhand comment made Len stiffen. "Not seriously. Oh my god, you can tell me to take a hike whenever you want, I just—"
"Barry," Len cut him off before he could make any more of a rambling, adorable fool of himself. "It's fine. We did live together for a solid week. Hard to imagine being away from you after that. I just… I'm not used to…" He really hated when words failed him; he usually excelled at speeches. "I'm too old to bide my time, and you speed through everything. No need for you to take a hike. I just keep waiting for you to realize your mistake."
"And here I thought that was just me," Barry smiled. Then blanched. "That you'd realize your mistake, not—"
"Got it. Cool your jets already. And be patient with me. Trying is harder than it looks."
Barry smiled again, and while Len's warring halves fought between wanting Barry to follow through with his tease to move in and yearning for a night to himself, in the end he knew he'd miss Barry the moment the kid was out of eyesight, even without the threat of chest pains.
Later, waiting in a less occupied hallway for Alexa's transfer, Len felt more like his old self again with the chance to gloat over a fallen enemy. Only this time, he'd been on the side of good, so the uniform wasn't a complete misrepresentation.
Barry had pulled a few strings with Joe's help to allow Len to escort Alexa from the holding cells to the transfer vehicle outside, but while Alexa shouldn't remember Barry anymore, Len was still adamant that Barry not be around for her to see his face—ever again. That meant that when Officer Wynters was called on to take custody of her, Barry turned about to make scarce.
"I'll be in the lab once you're done," he said. "Still sure you want to do this?"
"One hundred percent. I'll be fine."
Barry didn't balk back or baby him, simply nodded and headed off, while Len stepped up to take Alexa by the arm from the officer who'd brought her forward.
Besides being cuffed, she painted a rather sorry picture. She'd been given a jumpsuit to wear in place of the dress she'd been arrested in, and only a few remnants of old mascara remained of her makeup. She looked tired, paler, older after restless sleep and the weight of defeat.
A glare filled her expression when she caught sight of Len's face as he dragged her along beside him. "I'm sure you're loving this, aren't you?"
"Undoubtedly."
"I could always cry wolf."
"You won't. You know I have ways around being outed in sheep's clothing."
"Please, you are a sheep. You've gone soft, Leo, like I knew you had. You think you can be king of Central City playing white knight? It's only a matter of time before someone bigger and badder comes barking at your door."
"You're probably right. But I'll be ready. What you forget, Alexa, is that I have friends in high places these days. But like I said…you forget, so you don't even know what you're missing." He paused to look her in the eyes from beneath the low bill of his hat.
Brow scrunched tight, she scowled, not looking nearly as pretty when she wasn't on the winning side. "What don't I remember? What did you have Roy do?"
Len wasn't about to bring up The Flash, in any sense, though eventually she'd hear of the scarlet-clad hero again, she'd just never be able to recall his true name or face unless she reached nirvana in the cold light of her cell. Unlikely.
"Guess you'll never know," Len said, continuing to lead her through the station. "Whenever you hit the streets again, should you manage that someday, don't come looking for me."
"Because when you're out, you're out?" she repeated the common, cruel phrase Len had been taught from a young age.
"No," he said, hitting the light outside and approaching the vehicle that would take Alexa away, more than ready to be rid of her, "not anymore. But it's not me you need to worry about. See, I've got friends, remember? And you'd have to go through them. For your sake, I hope you never try. Enjoy the clink, Alexa," he said as he passed her to the waiting hands of the officers assigned to her. "I'm afraid it's not nearly as nice as the Four Seasons."
Then he tipped his hat and turned to head back inside.
Barry couldn't help worrying about leaving Len alone with Alexa, but he understood the need for closure with an enemy. He wasn't sure if he'd ever really gotten that with Thawne or Zolomon since both of them had simply…died or ceased to exist, but maybe he could find closure in other ways.
"You know there were a few files out of place and missing the other day," Julian said without so much as a 'good morning' when Barry waltzed into the lab. "They seem to have miraculously reappeared."
"You don't say? Weird," Barry shrugged.
"Yes."
"Off to a case?" Barry changed the subject, noting that Julian had a bag slung over his shoulder and was standing by his desk rather than sitting at it, like he'd been about to head out when he heard Barry coming and wasn't particularly happy at the thought of leaving Barry alone in here again.
"Headed to STAR Labs actually," he said.
"Really?" Barry hadn't heard about that.
"Doctor Snow informed me of some additional findings related to the Bivolo case. A pity he got away, despite bringing in his employer, though it seems our Mr. Logue recovered quite suddenly as if the hold over him had been lifted despite not fulfilling his directive."
Right. Len had made sure Bivolo took care of that. But since Barry couldn't admit to any involvement, he simply shrugged again, trying to maintain a smile.
Julian regarded him with barely contained disdain and started to head for the door, but before he could leave, Barry felt a tug in his gut like something unfinished needing to be addressed.
"Wait." He gently gripped Julian's arm to stop him from passing by. "Listen…I'll admit I may have read something on your desk—"
"About my cases?"
"About your sister."
Julian stood up taller as if affronted. "You—"
"I'm not prying or picking any fights, I just wanted to say…I get it. My mother was killed by a meta."
"I thought it was Harrison Wells?"
"It was. It's…complicated. But she was killed by someone with powers. So was my dad. By Zoom. And despite that, I don't believe people with powers have to be bad. I don't believe people who experience trauma have to be bad either. Nobody has to be anything. But trauma, whether getting powers, losing someone close to you, or both…changes a person. It's hard. It's…so hard some days when I suddenly remember I had my dad back only to lose him again, but I won't let that change who I am or how I treat people. I'm going to keep trying to be better. Just like The Flash."
Julian didn't hold back any of his contempt as he jerked his arm free of Barry's hold. "This is about him? Allen…"
"You're wrong about him, Julian. There's been a lot that was his fault, I know that, even if he only means to do good. But he can be better. He's trying to be better. The city needs someone to watch its back when people with superpowers are out there. It needs help sometimes from people without powers too." Barry honestly believed that. If he didn't, he'd hang up his cowl tonight.
Julian didn't look convinced, but he recognized that Barry was hurt and mourning just like he was, and for that he showed a shred of honest sympathy. "I'd rather be rid of superpowers entirely, but in the event that isn't an option, in the event law enforcement can't keep up…well then, I guess we'll have to wait and see if The Flash stays on the side of justice, won't we?"
"Just like everybody else," Barry said, which he hoped was clear that he meant either of them was just as susceptible to falling to darkness, much as they might try to keep their heads out of the muck.
Still, Julian seemed skeptical, but he conceded enough to say, "I suppose so," before he continued for the door. Barry remained convinced that he could change the man's mind someday, especially since, eventually, they'd be working together.
It wasn't long after Julian left, that he heard footsteps behind him.
"Ready to go, Le—" He cut off abruptly at the sight of Captain Singh. "Captain! I'm just—"
"Save it, Allen," Singh held up a hand, planting it immediately back on his hips to stare Barry down from the doorway. "I don't believe you understand the concept of bereavement leave, so in light of that, I'm ordering you to take this week off—completely, never once stepping foot in this lab or I'm kicking you to the curb indefinitely. Understood?"
Barry opened his mouth to protest before remembering that part of the reason he'd come in today was so he could request additional time off instead of coming back to work. Biting back the words he'd intended to say, instead he said, "Yes, sir, Captain. Never once. You got it."
Singh raised an eyebrow at him for caving so easily, but nodded. "You've had a busy few weeks. Speaking of, will I be seeing Wynters around?"
"Not after today, sir. I promise."
"I should hope not. Make sure The Flash isn't seen around this week either unless there's a damn meteor hitting the Earth, got it?"
"Uhh…"
"I'm sure you can get him the message." Singh made a point to raise both eyebrows as if to drive home that plausible deniability was key here, but he definitely knew more than he was admitting out loud.
"Yes, sir.
"Good. Now get outta here, Allen. And when you do get back to work, try not to let Albert show you up too much, will ya?"
"Of course, sir. I'll do my best."
Feeling oddly warm inside after Singh left, Barry glanced around the lab—his now shared lab—and didn't mind the thought of taking a real week off, much as he loved his day job. He deserved the break. He'd earned it.
"Ready, Scarlet?"
Turning around to take in the sight of his nemesis in that snugly fit uniform, Barry smiled. Against all odds, his life wasn't headed for a downward spiral. His boss knew most of his deepest secrets, and Barry was currently dating a man who'd tried to kill him on more than one occasion, but somehow, neither of those things was a disaster.
He missed his father fiercely, just like he still missed his mother, but deep down Barry knew he'd be okay. He had a group of supportive friends and family that scared him sometimes because of all he still had left to lose, but also bolstered him for everything he had to be grateful for.
Life was weird. Unexpected. But it wasn't bad. In fact, sometimes it was almost perfect.
"Yeah, Len. Let's go home."
Len was going to kill Raymond.
The man had no mind for thieving, yet he'd insisted on being counted as an alternate Rogue whenever additional help was needed. Len hadn't called in Mardon or Bivolo for this one, but an extra set of hands would be useful, and therefore Raymond had bounced in his chair on the Waverider as he raised his hand to volunteer, eager to spend time with Mick. Mick, of course, had grinned at the chance to be a bad influence on his partner.
Currently, Len hated both of them.
This was supposed to be fun, but that didn't mean they didn't need to be careful. And professional. And show some common sense!
Len had been looking forward to hitting Tiffany's right when it was having it's grand reopening after fixing the front window and previous damage caused by Alexa's men—and Captain Cold, of course.
"Raymond, if you even think of blasting another case like that, I will freeze you to the wall and leave you for the police."
"I didn't know the cannon would destroy the jewelry inside too! I reduced the output!"
"Clearly, not enough. Stick to being lookout."
Ray pouted—actually pouted. Supervillains didn't pout! Len maintained that he had not pouted that time when he'd been waiting for The Flash, ready to introduce the speedster to Mick for the first time, only for him to never show up.
Of course Raymond wasn't wearing his full Atom suit tonight, since in most cases he still wanted that moniker associated with being a hero, but his all black attire—seriously, had he raided Len's clothes from one of the safe houses?—was still accompanied by his lasers and main cannon attached to his arms. The cold gun, and in some cases even the heat gun, could affect the outer cases during a heist without destroying any loot—a photon cannon could not.
Besides, West got testy if too much damage was done, no matter how many times Barry explained the overall benefits to this new arrangement. Len preferred to keep on the detective's good side, considering he still received death glares every time they crossed paths.
Lisa and Mick had most of the goods packed up and ready for Peek-A-Boo to ship out, which she did in quick pops in, taking a bag, a pop out to the getaway vehicles around the back of the building, then back in again. They were a clockwork machine—other than Raymond.
"He disabled the security system," Mick said with a shrug after Ray trotted off to keep watch for any remaining security guards or cops showing up.
"Lovely," Len said. "Now if only he was useful in other capacities."
"Hey. He's useful in plenty capacities. Trust me," Mick leered.
Len cast his friend an unimpressed glare.
"Uh oh, I think I see—" Ray began only to cut off as a whoosh alerted Len's senses long before he saw any crackles of lightning.
"Why, Scarlet, whatever took you so long?" Len propped his cold gun on his shoulder as he turned to greet his newly arrived nemesis, with Mick already taking aim and Lisa escaping in a poof with Shawna and the last of the loot. "A little late, I'm afraid. It's just us and a good time waiting for you. I hope you like it rough," he finished as he tipped his gun forward.
Barry smiled as wide and humored as he had on that train so long ago. His suit was patched up from the former cut in its side, pristine and hugging all the right curves. "As if The Flash would ever fraternize with criminals," he said for any watching cameras, though his grin said plenty of what he really thought about that statement. "You two are going back to jail."
"Gotta catch us first, Flash!" Mick called as he fired at Barry dead-center—which of course he dodged as if it was no effort at all. He'd insisted that they never go easy on him or he might get sloppy. Mick was fine with that. He didn't know how to go easy.
As Barry zigged and zagged out of the path of Mick's trailing stream of fire, Len watched for his chance to trip up the kid's feet and send him spiraling on a carpet of ice. Shawna could always pop in to rescue them, but that was hardly as fun.
And then, just as Len was about to ice the floor in the direction he was certain Barry was going, Raymond decided to remind them of his presence by blasting one of the empty display cases Barry was headed toward, causing debris to rain down on him and send him tumbling to the floor.
"Shit! Sorry, Ba—I mean Flash—uhh…sorry!" Ray hurried to meet up with Len and Mick again, looking down on Barry with a cringe.
"Nicely done," Len nodded, then snatched Ray up by the collar of his jacket, spun him around, and pushed him Barry's direction just as the speedster zipped to his feet. "All yours, Scarlet! No use for him anyway!" Len called before taking off for the stairs.
"Hey!" Ray exclaimed when Mick turned tail to follow, leaving both brunettes in a tangle on the floor.
"Needs of the many, Ray!" Mick shouted over his shoulder, which made Len snort at the Star Trek reference Raymond was no doubt grumbling over as he was left in the dust.
"Sorry, Flash!" Len heard the man shout as he and Mick rounded the corner to the back exit where the vehicles and Lisa and Shawna should be waiting. Then there was a sudden boom, a whoosh of air that followed after them, and a cry from Barry like his eardrums had just popped.
Whirling back around as he opened the door for Mick to hurry through, Len barely believed it when out of the smoke starting to billow was Raymond running to join them. "Th'hell did you do?" he roared with half a mind to slam the door in Ray's face.
"Just an EMP!" Ray said as he slowed. "Sensory overload, no damage, I swear, not even to more cases."
That was…actually smart, given Barry's power-set. Len allowed Raymond to rush past him into the alley, then exited behind him and iced the door for good measure in case Barry got any ideas about following.
Of course, Raymond immediately laid into Mick. "I can't believe you left me there! And with a Spock quote, seriously? That's just mean, Mick."
"Yer the one wantin' to be equal on every playin' field. Well on this one, ya gotta play smarter. That blast for the Flash, though," Mick crowded Ray against the wall of the building before the other man could respond, heat gun sheathed but Mick's eyes burning in its place, "and makin' a getaway on yer own like that? Hot as hell, Pretty."
"Yeah?" Ray's ire washed out of him.
"Oh yeah. 'Sides, it's Red in there. I'd never leave you behind with a real threat."
Then they were kissing. It was actually disturbing how hands-on Mick and Ray were in public. Len still didn't do touchy feely with prying eyes around, much as Barry tended to gravitate toward being in his general orbit if not brushing arms or reaching for his hand, but ever since the other two became true partners, they'd grown into that annoying couple Len just wanted to shoot.
He charged his gun their direction until Mick glared over his shoulder and Ray blinked at Len wide-eyed. Like children, honestly.
"Save your celebrating for when the getaway is over," Len said.
"Aw, Lenny, have a heart," Lisa sauntered toward them from where the bikes and a van with Shawna behind the wheel were parked. "I think they're adorable."
Mick rolled his eyes while Raymond blushed and smiled like he was eighteen years old instead of that plus twenty.
"You're only on their side because you're headed to see Ramon after this," Len accused.
"Can't a girl have a date for the after party?"
Shawna snickered from the van.
"You good to go?" Len called to her.
"All set, boss."
"Then get the loot back to the safe house for distribution. The families need an offering to keep their coffers happy."
"You got it."
Off Shawna went. At least she followed orders, even if she only helped out as a courtesy and wasn't in it for a life of crime, however veiled their roles as secretly keeping the city from spiraling into chaos.
Twirling her fingers in a wave of goodbye, Lisa headed for her bike. "You boys play nice now. After all, it's not as if we don't know who's racing to beat you home, Lenny."
Len certainly hoped that was the case.
The remaining two bikes were for him and one for Mick and Ray. They'd be off soon to join another mission with the Legends, but there was time for 'team bonding' in the interim. Sara was the one Len really wanted to get in on a heist, but he was still wearing her down about giving into the idea.
At last, sirens blared in the distance. Barry had likely tipped off the police or tripped the alarm somehow before making scarce. Once again the headlines would read that Captain Cold—sometimes hero, sometimes villain—had prevailed, with The Flash unable to stop him.
Some people speculated at the nature of their relationship after a week of Cold seeming to be on Flash's side, especially when Len kept making clean getaways, but the smart ones realized that the real story was in how low the crime rate was—at least the rate of crime anyone knew about.
A few times on the way home, Len could have sworn he caught a flicker of lightning or that familiar smell of ozone, like Barry was playing tag with him, keeping just enough out of eyesight or reach for Len to truly know if he was there. But Len knew. He always knew. Just as well as he knew that Barry would be waiting for him as soon as he opened the door to his apartment.
"Ray?" he spouted before Len had even fully entered. Barry hadn't taken his suit off yet, but stood with his arms crossed and cowl back, caught between a scowl and a grin. "You have Ray on the Rogues now?"
"Not my idea."
"Len. There was a lot of damage—"
"All Raymond," Len shut the door with a quiet click. "Which you can take up with him and Mick."
Barry tried to continue looking standoffish but failed miserably. "You know at some point I really should bring you in so people don't catch wise that we're playing both sides."
"They already guess we're playing both sides," Len said, toeing off his boots and cross the living room to join Barry. "No one cares. The public loves me. I'm the thief with a heart of gold, leading a band of similar thieves, so when I'm caught, they're actually quite disappointed."
The grin was quickly winning out on Barry's face. "Even if I did put you away, you could always just escape again. I could even help you escape. I'm just trying to keep our headlines from turning into tabloids."
Crowding close into Barry's space, Len eyed the boy from head to toe. "If offering to break me out of prison is your idea of foreplay…it's working." He tipped forward to capture a kiss, which naturally Barry allowed.
"Joe's gonna yell at me again," he hummed when they parted.
"Tell him he can yell at me. He seems to enjoy that. Not ready to warm to me yet?"
"He's…coping. He admits you're not all bad, totally willing to give you a chance as a hero, just…"
"Not as your lover."
"Please don't say lover in front of him."
Len couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes at the behavior of a grown man—the one in front of him and the one they were talking about. "What does he think we're doing here every night, having tea parties?"
"Len…"
"I'll keep playing nice, Barry, but I can't play too nice. I'll get rusty at this rate. Either that or Raymond will be the death of me. When's the next crisis scheduled?"
"Don't jinx it. And I can always be rougher next time." Barry grasped the edges of Len's parka to pull him closer.
"Mmm, always up for that."
They kissed once more—easy, lazy.
But Barry soon pulled back with a shake of his head. "Urg, my ears are still ringing from that trick of Ray's."
"Oh? Let me attend to them then," Len said, swooping around Barry's neck to lick an earlobe, nibbling and tonguing the cartilage before kissing behind it down along the hairs of Barry's neck.
Barry giggled, shoulders locking up from the slight tickle.
"Hungry?" Len asked.
"Starved. I can heat up that casserole Evelyn dropped off earlier?"
"Sounds divine." They parted, though Len was hungry for more than just casserole, if he was being honest. "It's still an early night. Netflix and chill?"
"Meaning…" Barry glanced over his shoulder during his march to the kitchen.
"Movie night with light cuddling and possible debauchery if we get bored?"
"Make it certain debauchery and I'm in. But then I'm making popcorn with the casserole."
"Heathen."
"Yet you love me."
"I do," Len said with quiet, weightier seriousness.
"I love you too, Len. Now do we have any Dr Pepper left, because I have a serious craving right now?" Barry bent to look in the bottom shelf of the fridge, displaying his scarlet clad ass for Len to admire.
Scarlet. That was definitely Len's favorite color for many reasons, and not all of them had to do with the hue of his once-enemy's suit. It had also been the color of the eyes that held him prisoner only to free him in ways he never could have seen coming.
Poetic really, that his undoing was also his salvation; that his enemy was now his lover and his deepest, dearest love.
"Len. You drank the last one? Now I have to run to the store."
"For the three seconds it'll take you to get there and back?"
"It takes longer than that to pay."
"So don't pay," Len said, tossing his parka over the back of the sofa and dropping down onto it himself.
"Nice try, but unlike Ray, I am not moonlighting my other moonlighting by becoming a thief."
"Not even if dressing you in black for a heist and letting you handle my gun is a long running fantasy of mine?"
Barry paused as he let the fridge door drift closed.
"Just the two of us," Len sat forward, arm draping out along the back of the sofa, "me giving you orders all night, culminating in a successful haul before I bend you over the nearest solid surface..."
"Well…I don't know…"
"Come now, Barry. Don't you wanna be a good boy for me by being a little bad?"
Barry shuddered. He always did when Len called him a 'good boy'. Len needed to think of ways to slip that into casual conversation. "Great, now I get to run to the store like a deviant," Barry said, looking down at how he was starting to strain his suit.
"Claim your spoils without paying like a true deviant and I'll suck you off before dinner."
A spark of excitement made Barry straighten. He was too easy really. Would be even easier to manipulate and wrap around Len's finger, if he was the type to exploit the man who shared his bed, but no. Len wasn't Alexa. He never wanted to be like her. This time, he wanted to try something new.
Being happy.
"Back in a flash," Barry said before disappearing with a spark of lightning.
Len laughed. Poetic indeed.
It wasn't until a few weeks later—several months after everything that had happened—that Barry went into the hidden room to check on Gideon and the article from the future. He hadn't given it much thought in all that time, had almost forgotten it existed, but one day it popped into his mind and he hadn't been able to shake the idea that he needed to see how things had changed.
Later, when he told Len what he'd discovered, he learned that the changes had already been made the night Alexa stormed the Labs, because Len had seen the same thing.
The front page article not only displayed The Flash in mid-run but a smaller image of Captain Cold behind him. They'd disappeared together during the fight, part of some great crisis yet to come. But the weirdest part was that Iris's name was still hyphened, just not to West-Allen.
Now it read…
THE END
It reads West-Thawne, okay, because somehow Eddie is coming back or so help me...
But seriously, interpret as you will. Len was understandably confused when he saw that name for Iris, and then he sort of forgot about it all what with getting his common sense back and all the crazy.
Anyway, I can't thank you all enough, those who've been here from the start, those who started recently, those who commented once or gushed through every chapter - thank you.
Please, if you liked this crazy ride, let me know in whatever way is most comfortable for you, but I assure you, each comment just spurs me on to write more. I'm sure I'll be back with another fic, or at least new chapters of other ongoing fics soon.
And as always...see ya next ficcie!