Chapter Text
Len had honestly thought that the strangest-most-unexpected situation he’d find himself in couldn't be topped by Rip recruiting him and Mick to join a crew the guy had assembled aboard a time-traveling ship from the future to stop an immortal madman, but apparently he’d thought too soon. Because sitting across from the Flash, the goody-two-shoes superhero who was supposed to be his nemesis, having a civil conversation and chatting over burgers and fries in the middle of a diner in plain view was decidedly stranger, and somehow more unbelievable. He’d never in a million years thought the kid would actually agree to spend time with him outside of foiling his heists (or attempting to, at least). And yet…he wasn’t complaining. It was nice. He didn’t tell Barry everything, not the things he wasn’t ready to fully confront himself, but he told him enough.
Watching Barry smile sweetly and triumphantly as he listened along to Len’s stories about where he’s been, eyes bright and attentive like he was genuinely interested to hear what Len has to say, voicing a smug ‘I told you so’ about Len having good in him (“Shut up, Barry,” Len had rolled his eyes at that without any real heat), he realized with a strange jolt in his stomach that he was actually enjoying himself. Huh.
"Time traveling is a bitch," Barry sighed, absentmindedly twirling the straw in his glass, after Len explained exactly what it is he’d been doing. The smile was suddenly gone from his face, replaced by a disgruntled little frown, and Len found himself inexplicably missing it. "And messing with it is never good. This Rip guy better know what he's getting you all into. It's not fair for him to drag you into this mess—it's selfish."
"My, my, Barry Allen," Len clicked his tongue, eyebrows raised. "I'm surprised. You struck me as the type of person who'd do anything and everything they could to save their family."
Barry's face darkened at that, a haunted look in his eyes that had Len wishing he could take his words back, drop the topic entirely. The bitterness in his expression just wasn't...right. "I used to be. I guess I still am, to an extent. But..."
Unsure what to make of the kid's sudden vagueness, Len stayed quiet, watching him expectantly as Barry refused to meet his eyes. Maybe, he thought, it had something to do with why the broken, closed off man sitting before him was so different from the bright, optimistic do-gooder he met during those first months of the Flash's appearance. It was almost impossible not to notice the change in him, and although Len prided himself on keeping his emotions at bay...it troubled him. To see someone so intent on doing some good in the world, on being a source of light in dark times, so defeated. He liked to think it was just because he'd miss the challenge if Allen really was throwing in the towel, but...deep down in the small, honest part of him that he tried to keep hidden, that had somehow survived over the years, he knew that really wasn't it.
With a sigh, Barry dropped his hands from his straw to wrap his fingers tightly around his drink, drumming his fingertips against the glass in a rapid pattern like sitting still was some impossible feat, like he needed something to keep his hands occupied, and continued, looking like he’d just swallowed a lemon. "What happened to Rip's family is awful," Barry said with a grimace, his tone clipped in a poor attempt to appear detached, but Len could see the sympathy in his eyes. "But that shouldn't be why he's doing this."
Len felt his eyebrows raise in surprise, taken off guard, not for the first time, by the man before him. "Oh?"
Barry scowled down at the table, but again, Len noticed that he looked more defeated than angry, and couldn’t help but wonder the cause. "Going back in the past to fix a personal tragedy, to save someone you love—you're not supposed to do that. Life really fucking sucks sometimes, death happens to people it shouldn't, people you love, but you can't change that. You're not supposed to. I find it hard to believe that Rip doesn't understand those consequences."
"Not that I disagree," Len said, squinting at Barry over the rim of his glass, "But how would you know? And why do I get the strange feeling that you're speaking from experience here?” He spoke slowly, using his usual careful draw to hide concern in his voice. He felt his curiosity peak as he watched Barry move his hands from his glass to fold in front of him on the table, clearly attempting to control the nervous twitch of his fingers. “You ever been on a time traveling space ship before, Scarlet?"
“No—no, I—it’s a long story. You probably wouldn’t even believe me.”
“Scarlet…” Len shook his head, staring hard at him, amusement warring with exasperation. “I literally just told you I’ve been travelling through time to stop an immortal douchebag with a bunch of other weirdos, and you have fucking superspeed. What in god’s name makes you think I wouldn’t believe you?”
Barry shot him a look, but did look a bit sheepish at that, his eyes just a little less guarded, expression a little more unsure. “Okay, fair. But it is a long story. There’s—a lot of different parts to it. The simple explanation is just that I can sort of, uh, travel through time if I run fast enough. Which I can. And I have.”
“Okay,” Len nodded, taking that in stride. “Why don’t you tell me the long explanation? I’ve got time. Come on, I've told you all about my perilous adventures and...issues. Your turn to spill your guts, kid."
"What makes you think I'd tell you anything, Snart? And what makes you think I even have anything to tell?” Barry snorted, clearly unimpressed by Len’s tactics. He should’ve known he’d need a gentler approach to coax the story out of him.
"Please, you look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders right now, kid. It’s not good for you to bottle all of that up. And now you have a…sympathetic ear to listen, or complain to, whatever you like. Go ahead, get it all off your chest. I'm listening."
"O-kaaaay..." Barry narrowed his eyes at him, like he didn’t quite trust Len’s motives weren’t some sort of trick to get information he could use against him. Len really couldn’t blame him, given their track record, and the fact that Len was still technically the Flash’s enemy, when he wasn’t off time-travelling to save the stupid world. Or something. Still, for once he actually was being genuine. Something about those big, pretty green eyes, watching him with mistrust, that face that somehow looked so much older than the optimistic, innocent kid he’d first met, yet still so young, so expressive, made Len feel soft and weak in a way he knew could only mean trouble. Damn kid, always wearing his heart on his sleeve.
"And you might as well call me Len,” he continued, when the silence dragged and Barry still hadn’t responded, attempting to break down his reservations. “If you're going to be spilling your life story to me."
"Again. Who says I'm going to be spilling my life story to you," Barry grumbled, but there was a spark of uncertainty in his eyes, a look that told Len that he really did want to talk about it. And who knew, maybe getting some things off his chest really would help the kid. Len would never admit it, but he’d actually felt a bit lighter himself after telling Barry about his time-travelling adventures.
“Okay,” Barry finally broke, worrying his bottom lip as he searched Len’s expression again, apparently satisfied with what he found there. Len tried not to think of what that meant for the cool exterior he tried to maintain, instead sitting back and letting Barry take his time, listening intently. “It started—well. Um. You remember when you kidnapped Cisco to figure out my identity?”
“Do you...maybe want to come over?” Barry said as they walked towards the side alley, where Len’s motorbike was parked, his voice just a little too high, punctuated by nerves. They’d overstayed their welcome at the diner, kicked out at closing time. Len hadn’t even realized they’d been talking for so long—he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed, and then he’d settled in to listen to Barry’s story, and it wasn’t so much relaxed anymore as it was captivated, and also slightly horrified at what the other man had gone through.
And Len knew that was only the half of it—Barry had only gotten up to the point of explaining the singularity in his story when the diner closed, and they’d been ushered out the door. Barry had put on a brave face throughout it, and Len could see him struggling, to the point where Len had impulsively reached out to grab his hand at one point, squeezing it reassuringly as Barry struggled to continue, fighting back tears as he described the attempt at going back in time to save his mom, and then watching her die. At first Barry had tensed up under his touch, but then he’d relaxed again, offering up a tiny, broken smile of thanks.
And now they were here.
“I mean—” Barry stumbled over his words, eyes wide with embarrassment when Len didn’t respond right away. “If you want. Since we were kind of interrupted, you know. Just to keep talking, maybe we could relax, watch a movie or something or—is that too weird? It's just that talking to you about things...I don't know, this night has been weirdly...nice? Well, the first part of it was, the second part was depressing but—helpful. I really needed that, and—"
"I can't tonight, kid," Len said gently, cutting him off, something twisting in his gut as he watched Barry's face fall.
"Oh, oh yeah—of course. Sorry, I just thought—"
"But I'm free this weekend." Len stopped in front of his bike, pulling his helmet off the handle and hearing Barry come to a stop behind him before turning to face him again, letting out a breath and meeting Barry’s stunned gaze evenly.
"You...what?" Barry blinked at him, eyes wide. It was…he was so...not adorable. Definitely not.
God, Len was so screwed.
“I'm free this weekend,” Len clarified, attempting a smile, which ended up being more of a smirk. “If you still want me over, that is."
“Just—just to talk! You know, like we did tonight, not...um...” Barry hastened to explain, and Len's stomach dropped at the thought of Barry explaining this to people before him who no doubt had made a certain assumption at such an invitation, his mind going back to the conversation they’d had earlier, before they’d even agreed on dinner, a sour taste in his mouth at the fact that there was even a reason he had to explain in the first place.
“Or a movie. I get it.” Len nodded, watching Barry's expression carefully, hoping to ease his worries. He took a deep breath, feeling slightly on edge until he noticed the tension leave Barry’s shoulders again.
“Alright then,” Barry smiled at him, uncharacteristically shy, “Friday? Or Saturday? Whatever works better with your...schedule." Len watched in amusement as he crinkled his nose, like he was having a hard time conceiving balancing a life as criminal with time traveling to save the world on the regular as a proper career.
“Saturday's fine,” Len said, smirking at him, leaning against his bike. “Don't need to be back on the Waverider ‘til Sunday night.”
"Alright, well...don't steal anything in the meantime, okay?"
Len held back a laugh, but it was a near thing. Superheroes. So adorably naïve.
"No promises," he shrugged, just to make Barry splutter, even though he really didn't have any heists planned for the week—just a lot of quality time with Lisa. Who was going to kill him for being gone so long in the first place.
“You’re so…ugh. Well…bye,” Barry waved, a little awkwardly, as Len moved to climb onto his bike. Len just gave him a little nod of acknowledgement in return, determined to maintain at least a shred of his dignity before returning home for the night, letting his cold mask slip back into place.
At least, that was the plan, until he felt the ghost of an embrace surround him, something squeezing him tight for less than a second before the sudden warmth was gone again, leaving a trail of lightning in its wake. Len watched Barry go, mind reeling, frozen to the spot in the cold, empty alleyway until the streak of lightning was no longer visible.