Chapter Text
Sometimes it didn't pay to be the smartest man in the room. It was a risk. Especially when the idiots had loud mouths. Leonard Snart probably would have paid Barry Allen to stay the hell out of his family’s business that night if he thought the man was smart enough to take it. He would have rathered Barry do the cop-thing, the self-righteous good-guy thing, and just shut up and go save the damsel. Len knew his sister was in trouble. She needed someone with the knowledge and the tech to get a bomb out of her neck, and Barry fucking Allen was the only person Len knew who had those resources to help. Lisa had gone to the right person and Len hadn't even had to tell her. For all she was one damaged cookie, she had her moments of brilliance.
That just left Barry as the idiot in the scenario. The predictable idiot, of course; everyone else generally ran away from crumbling buildings on shaky foundations, but it was the Flash who usually ran in to look for survivors. And there the man stood, in the warehouse built on top of the faultline, just asking to take a fall when the ground opened up.
“So I’m in? For real?” Barry asked.
“As a friend of Leo, if you do your bid, and shut your damn mouth, Sam,” came the predictably annoyed response from Lewis Snart. The ticking time bomb that waited at Len’s foundations. He had his finger on the trigger of the bomb that threatened Len’s little sister’s life, and now, thanks to the dogged persistence of Barry Allen, he had a hostage on the other end of his gun sights, the old-fashioned way. And Barry grinned like he was celebrating it. The guy was nervous under it, but Len knew him better. Lewis wouldn't notice the lie. And he didn't notice the lie because Len worked to sell it. Lisa’s fate had just been tied to Barry’s, only partially through his asshole father’s good mood. Len wouldn't let it go wrong.
And maybe, with Barry’s luck, things would work out okay. Assuming Barry could BS his way into a vault lock and Lewis would be given no reasons to doubt the Boy Scout on their team. Because, as a smart kid who was equal parts idiot, he had to be good for something with that death wish of his.
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They had the gems in hand. With the exception of one dead metahuman hero that Central City would never know to grieve, the plan had been a success. Len didn't know if Barry’s friends had figured out how to help his sister, so he couldn't risk his father’s itchy trigger finger on a failed heist. He had to watch as his father dumped the trays of gems into a bag and prattled on about... whatever bullshit he was ranting about. Len’s attention kept going back to the vault door, to where they had left the body; he was distracted.
A slight movement of a shadow caught his attention and Len looked down the short security hallway toward the door. There, just at the corner, he saw a body drop with an ungraceful grunting noise, shaking and seizing, to the floor. He recognized Barry’s forehead just peeking around the angle to see into the vault. The damn snoop had survived. Len grinned at the realization before he caught the significance of the fact that Barry had apparently tripped and fallen to the floor. He heard the buzz echo into the vault then.
Just before the sound of stomping boots.
Lewis turned and looked toward the door then, gems and bomb-trigger both in hand.
“What the hell is this-” Lewis’ disapproval was interrupted by a nervous shout down the short hall behind Barry. The shadow of an officer cast out from the propped open vault door, what was probably a weapon trained on Barry on the floor as his partner advanced to take on the Snart duo. The officer appeared in the hall then, looking armed for bear and nearly as frightened.
“Freeze! CCPD! You’re under arrest!”
Len looked to his father, eyes wide as their plans came to a drastic and complete stop. Amidst the distraction offered by the stampede of boots down the hall, he wasted no time in shooting his father with the cold gun. The blast froze the bomb trigger first, the cheap plastic transmitter splitting and shattering like glass before the beam had even touched Lewis’ hand. Len let it go as long as he dared before the nervous young police officer started looking serious about shooting him.
As his father keeled to the floor, swearing and spitting in surprise, Len held the gun up, hands in the air. Another three officers ran into the room, weapons drawn as they barked orders that Len already knew by heart. One grabbed the gun from Len’s hand and kicked him to his knees, another saw to Lewis. That one got on his shoulder radio to call for an EMT to the scene. Someone was groaning and complaining and it sounded like Lewis. Oops.
Len was searched and he allowed it. He deserved it; he had one shot at taking his father out and he had pulled up too soon, hadn’t finished the job once he signed on for it. That kind of rookie mistake deserved a hard kick to the teeth and some evaluation time.
Next came the handcuffs. Same old routine, but a little different atmosphere. His dad was bitching and moaning, and Len had never been arrested with him before. And the formerly dead Barry Allen stood at the end of the hall, staring at him as another officer got him to his feet to read off his rights. Not Barry’s usual side of the cuffs, and Len was struck by an odd sense of nostalgia.
“What the... what did you do? We had it handled- she was in the clear...” Barry said to him. That was welcome news and Len smiled; Barry had come through even when he was dead. He was just a little slow sharing the memo.
“It was an accident,” Len stated, for the record. “The officers surprised me.”
“Crap...” Barry looked almost panicked. Like somehow he hadn't thought through that committing a felony robbery wouldn't potentially result in a visit from the cops.
“Look,” Barry said to the beat cop holding his arm. “Can I speak to the scene command-”
“You!” howled Lewis, stealing Len’s attention away from Barry. The EMTs had his father on a stretcher and it popped up so he was a little closer to Barry’s level again. He was handcuffed to the support bar on one side as the EMTs worked on securing and stabilizing his frozen shoulder. All the same, he tried to point at Barry. “You are DEAD! This is on you! You! Will regret crossing me-”
“Aww, lay off him, Pops,” said Len, a dangerous smirk on his face. “He was just trying to help.”
Barry straightened up, catching the implications Len was playfully tossing out for the other officers.
“Woah! Wait! I didn't-”
The scene commander, probably some detective, showed up then. “Tell it to your lawyer, Allen. And you’ll probably need to explain a few things to the Chief while you're at it.”
“This is sooo not what it looks like,” Barry started.
“Right,” added Len, with more than enough sarcasm. Maybe Barry was having a bad time of it, but Len was amused. Barry scowled at him as the officers escorted him and his father out, Lewis still shouting threats and obscenities at Barry’s alter-ego “Sam” and the general existence of the police force world wide.
A few minutes later, Barry - very much alive, if quite unhappy- was helped into the backseat of the police cruiser. Right next to Len. He felt good about the day; his sister was safe, his father was in a helluva lot of pain that wouldn't go away anytime soon, and the Flash’s alter-ego was getting a crash course in how the other half lived. It was a wonderful thing to get to witness, just once.
“Did you plan this or something?” Barry asked him.
“Hardly,” replied Len. “But I work with what I get.”
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