Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Barry didn't know why he was going to this school reunion get-together. Oh, wait , yes he does. Iris practically begged him to come with her. Barry suggested she take Eddie instead, but Iris reminded him that Eddie was working and it wasn't Eddie's school reunion. She mentioned that it would be good for Barry to get out more. He would have objected if Iris didn’t beat him to the punch.

“Besides, getting out will be good for you."

"I get ou-"

"You know I don't mean being The Flash. Come oooon. Barry please?"

"Fine! You win." Barry sighed and sulked off to get ready, leaving Iris with a victorious smile on her face.

Barry didn't have many good memories from high school, and would actually like to forget them altogether. This reunion wasn't even a proper high school reunion, considering that it hadn’t even been a full decade since they graduated, and since it was December, they added the Christmas theme for fun . He had nothing against Christmas, it just reminded him of all the dances and parties from high school that always had to have themes attached to them.

An invitation was sent out through Facebook but Barry didn't receive one. That didn't stop Iris to counter that they must have forgotten, and that the invitation said to spread the word around to anyone who wasn't notified. Barry wasn't convinced. He wondered if there was a reason why he didn't get an invitation, or if he was just being paranoid for no reason. It wasn't like somebody was going to outright say, "Don't Tell Barry Allen."

Since that horrible day back in 2000, Barry's friendship circle had shrunk significantly. No one thought he was telling the truth. Some felt sorry for him since all they knew was that his mother was murdered by his father, but it didn't stay like that for long. Barry thought he had friends he could trust to stick by him. He had Iris, and was very thankful she was his best friend. His other friends were there for him, in the beginning, but they slowly drifted apart and gave him excuses for why they couldn't hang out. Barry believed them.

He put it off as them being busy as they slowly cut the cords of their friendship. Barry had one other friend, besides Iris, who he thought was still there for him. His name was Michael Parker. They hadn't spoken much since the beginning of college, as they went to different schools and classes became the priority. They exchanged 'Happy Birthday' messages and the short chats that followed. Each would say that they should get together and hang out, but life got in the way. Barry hadn't seen him for years and thought it would be nice to see him again if he was at the reunion.

Any small feeling of excitement for the evening went away as Barry overheard a conversation from behind the corner.

He was leaning against the wall—which happened to have one of the many Christmas trees he could hide behind—eating a couple of brownies. Barry and Iris were already at the party for about twenty minutes, but he was ready to leave.

"Did you guys see that Barry Allen is here?"

"Yeah, who invited the attention-seeking freak?"

"I think he came here with Iris, I forgot they were friends."

"Can't you make him leave? You set up this reunion, Parker."

"Well now, how would that look if I told him to leave in front of everyone, Forrest?” Parker asked. “He may be an attention-seeker, but why should I embarrass him anymore? He's already embarrassed himself for years.”

"Why did you even stay friends with him?" Forrest asked.

"Honestly, I felt sorry for him.” Michael sounded almost regretful, but then Barry heard what he said next. “His dad murdered his mom right in front of him. He was in shock from what he saw and made up some fake story to try and keep the only other living relative in his life and out of jail. He got therapy, but apparently, it didn't help, at least not since the last time I had a real conversation with him."

"You got to admit, he should have been institutionalized," the other voice scoffed.

"Well, I'm not going to say it didn't seem that way. I mean, I don't believe that story he told and stuck with for years. If he wasn’t just being an attention seeker, then he needed help - probably more therapy.”

"My uncle says he's just some lab rat at the precinct that gets perks from the captain."

Barry heard a soft thud. "Dude, that reminds me. Did you guys hear he got hit by lightning a few years ago?"

"Yeah. How much you wanna bet that he staged it all?"

“Considering he’s an attention seeker, it wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

They laughed before the conversation continued.

Attention seeker.

Barry had heard enough. His forehead creased and eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt heat rush into his face, feeling so stupid for not seeing it before. He lost all of his school friends, but Parker was supposed to be his best friend. They had been friends ever since elementary school, and he'd been there for Barry through just about everything, or so he thought. Just when you think you know a person, the truth would come to light.

He was being an attention seeker? Eobard Thawne was the one who killed his mom and, had his dad wrongly incarcerated. He was trying to get everyone else to see that. And that makes him an attention seeker? Barry thought Parker was his friend.

It took everything in Barry to not flash out of the building.

Feeling insulted and wounded, he crumbled up the napkin and held it in his fist as he came out from behind the plant. He felt like he could cry but there was no way he'd give them another reason for "seeking attention." Just walking up to them felt like he was fuelling the fire.

"Well, now I know who you really are, Parker. I guess you don't have to pretend to be my friend anymore," Barry scoffed, "I'm just sorry I didn't see how much of an ass you really were earlier. Would have saved me a lot of time," words dripping with venom. He walked away before Parker could reply and went looking for Iris to tell her he'd see her later. He picked up his coat and threw the napkin in the trash on the way.

She was on the other side of the room talking to a few of her old friends, until she noticed Barry making his way over. Excusing herself, she met him halfway and immediately could tell something was not right.

"Barry, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Iris. I'm just going to take a walk, maybe head home after getting some fresh air." Barry tried sounding fine, but Iris could see right through him. Iris always could tell if Barry was lying - he could never get a lie passed her, even when Joe told him not to tell her about being The Flash. He really didn’t tell her, she had found out on her own, and Barry was glad he didn’t have to hide a part of himself from his best friend.

"No, you're not. What aren't you telling me? What happened?"

"It's- Don't worry about it right now. Please." Barry lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. "I'll tell you later, just not here."

"Well then I'll get my coat," Iris said, before making a turn to the direction of her coat. Barry stopped her.

"Iris, no. It's okay. You can stay and catch up with your friends. I just need some time to myself, away from here. I'll be fine, honest. I want you to have fun." Barry didn't want to spoil Iris's night by taking her away from the party to be with some downer. He may have not had many friends in high school but Iris did.

"Okay." Iris was reluctant. "But you better tell me later what all of this is about. Or else." She gave a kind smile. He knew that even though she gave that smile, she wouldn't stop getting on his back until she found out what was bothering him.

In return, Barry forced a smile back. "I promise. Now go have fun. I'll see you later."

Barry gave her a hug and Iris made a point to hug him tight, and before leaving each other's personal space, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He didn't want to talk to anyone else, so he put his jacket on and made a getaway for the door as quickly as he could, resisting the urge to use his powers. If anyone called out his name, he didn't stop to turn around. He couldn't stay there one more second.

— ⚡︎ —

The air was harsh. It looked like the ground had a fresh blanket of snow, as the tracks were few. He pulled his hood and coat around him tighter as he walked down three blocks before finally letting his emotions loose.

One hour felt like several as he walked to his unknown destination. Barry didn't bother to check the time when he left, but he knew at least thirty minutes had passed. The growling from his stomach told him that he should stop somewhere to eat. Then, as if to add insult to injury, it started snowing.

"What? Seriously? This d-day just fuuucking loves me."

Barry hated the snow. He didn't care much for it much before, but the cold affected him more after being struck by lightning, and he would rather not be in it longer than necessary.

Home seemed so far away that he just decided to look at his surroundings for any restaurants. He had found himself in the questionable part of Central and the falling snowflakes were reflecting light from the neon sign of Saints and Sinners as they fell to the ground.

"Now this is where they should have held the reunion ," he muttered under his breath. "What a f-friendly and inviting environment ." He sighed. "At least there's burgers."

It wasn't until Barry walked inside that he realized his outfit probably screamed for people’s attention. Under his coat was a black suit and soft white shirt, with no tie. The party’s attire had been semi-formal.

Barry didn't plan on turning back to the cold.

“Maybe I am an attention seeker,” he muttered.

The dim lighting had at least helped him to hide, and there were a few handfuls of people inside—which Barry didn't bother to take account of—that were either at the bar, in booths, or the billiards area. He glanced at the bartender before finding an empty booth in an ill-lit area and pulled off his coat before sliding in. It was warm in the bar, or at least warmer than the horrid, wet cold outside. For that, he was grateful.

A waitress came by and placed a glass of water down before taking his order. He asked for three burgers with fries. She gave him an odd look, but took down his order without much question and left him to his thoughts.

'I can't believe Mike. I'm such an idiot to think that just knowing someone since elementary... If he didn't want to be my friend he could have fucking said so. I don't need to be anyone's pity friend.

Fuck. He said he believed me. Believed Dad wasn't the one that killed Mom. But I guess it was all just a lie. He should have just left, like everyone else.

This is so fucking humiliating! I'm a fucking idiot for being so trusting.

I trusted Wells and look where that got me. He turned out to be the Reverse-Flash, The Man in Yellow . For over a year, he lied to me and helped me get faster. He spied on me, my family, my friends. Probably sat down on one of his modernized couches and drinking scotch or wine, while laughing at how close I was to figuring him out. He took so much from all of us. Took everything from Mom.’

Barry snorted. ‘I probably need a therapist, even now, with all this baggage I'm carrying.

It's not enough that I had a lifetime's worth of it growing up when what I saw was real. Joe didn't believe me and just thought I made it up. No one even bothered to look harder at the scene. The window's glass was shattered into the living room, not outside, and it exploded inward with small pieces scattered everywhere. Why would Dad set that up? How would he even have the time?

He wouldn't.

Joe didn't believe me then. I should have realized Michael didn't believe me either. But what the fuck? What do Michael and his friends think now, knowing the Flash is out there? I mean it wouldn't even make a difference to me. I'm done. I'm just—‘

Barry's train of thought was cut off as the waitress had placed his order down. Burgers and fries, and a shot glass... Wait, what?

"Uh... Excuse me, I didn't order the shot."

"On the house," the waitress said, walking away.

What?

He held the glass for a second, then placed it back on the table. He wondered why he would get alcohol on the house.

"Well, well, well... If it isn't Barry Allen." Standing next to the table, looking down at him, was none other than Leonard Snart. He was wearing a black jacket and had his signature smirk plastered on his face. "This seat taken?" Snart sat comfortably in the booth seat across from Barry before he could even answer.

Chapter Text

"This seat taken?" Snart sat comfortably in the booth seat across from Barry before he could even answer.

"What do you want, Snart?" Barry was disappointed with how exhausted his words came out.

"You looked like you needed a drink... Or twelve."

"Seriously?" Barry glared. "Well, you just wasted your money." He nudged the shot glass closer to Snart. "Alcohol doesn't affect me."

"I always wondered about that." Snart looked down at the shot being passed over and placed his index, middle, and thumb on the rim for a few seconds, then glared back up at Barry with a smirk.

"You al- Wha- Why, why would you wonder about that?" Barry cursed at himself for stuttering and felt his face flush.

Snart didn't say anything and kept looking at Barry, keeping his smirk as he saw him squirm in his seat.

Trying to ignore the glare, Barry's nerves threw out the next question on his mind. "What, were you going to try and get me drunk?"

"Now, Barry, why would I want to get you drunk?" he sounded offended, though his face never matched.

"I don't know," Barry grimaced. "You're the one handing me alcohol."

"It was just a shot of vodka, kid." His hand waved through the air. "I wouldn't use alcohol that way."

"Uh huh. Right. So what is it you really want?" Barry took a bite out of one of his burgers.

"I don't want anything. Just wondering what's got you looking so angry. No news of major crimes in the city. And now that I'm getting a better look at you,” Snart’s eyes gazed down his body and back up, “looks like you were at a party. Did your date leave you or stand you up?"

"None of your business." Barry snorted as he continued to eat.

"Oh, come on, Barry. Indulge me," Snart took one of Barry's fries.

"No! And don't take my fries," Barry tried putting an arm around his fries as if that could block Snart from getting another. "Hey!"

"What do you say, we call it a truce tonight. You're just Barry and I'm just Len," he said before eating the fry.

"Why do you even care?" Barry glared at him as yet another fry disappeared.

"I don't." He shrugged. "Just wondering what got my arch-nemesis all pissy."

Barry snorted, then sighed. Snart wasn't going to leave him alone unless he up and left. And he wasn't going to do that with his food still on the table. "Leave my fries alone and it's a deal."

"Not gonna happen. Talk." Snart ate another fry.

This was the weirdest thing ever - Snart wanting to listen to Barry’s bad day as if they’ve been old friends for years. Although, as he was reminded not long ago, he barely had any old friends to start. Snart—or Len…whatever—is more of a friend than the guys ever were.

"Today was a high school reunion-Christmas party combo," Barry started. He had his elbows on the table, consuming some of his fries.

"High school? And you graduated—"

"Nine and a half years ago. Yeah, it's not even a proper decade reunion," Barry sighed. "But it wasn't the school that put it together. There were Facebook invitations sent out, I mean, I didn't get one but Iris still insisted I come along."

"Hm."

"I was one of the least popular kids in school. Probably the least popular."

Len raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"I'm not overreacting. After sixth grade, my only real friend, Iris."

"Yet something tells me this is just the surface," Len leaned in the table with his arms crossed.

"I... My mother was murdered when I was eleven. I was in bed when I heard a loud noise from downstairs. And what I saw from that night was red and yellow lightning all around the living room and a man in yellow, before I ended up blocks away from my house in the middle of the street. I told the truth of what I saw but no one believed me. My father was framed for my mother's murder and served time in prison even though he was innocent. The Reverse Flash was guilty."

Len had figured out Doc Allen was Barry’s father when he’d read the police report from that night while he researched Barry. He and Mick knew Doc Allen was too good of a man to be accused of whatever sent him behind bars. But apparently, not everything was reported since it seemed too unrealistic back then. Len felt sorry for the kid. No one in this business gets a break at a decent childhood.

"It's funny," Barry scoffed, "people always tell kids to tell the truth, but when they do, it has to be something that adults would believe. I was stupid trying to get people to believe me. At first, people thought it was grief and trauma making up a story or ‘covering for his old man.’ The friends I had, they started making excuses for why they couldn't hang out. I can't believe I didn't see it before," Barry trailed off. He put his hand through his hair to the back of his neck, head angled downward. Barry closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths.

"Barry..." Len's voice was soft. He thought Barry was going to cry and wasn't sure how to handle it. At least, handle it from him. Len would be there for Lisa when she was in tears. He would hold her and talk softly. He would make sure she was safe above all. "You need a breather, kid?"

Barry's eyes were glistening as he looked up at Len's. He didn't want to prove them right as an attention seeker. "Huh? No, I'm fine. It's stupid anyway."

"No, it's not. Not if it's bothering you." Len looked into Barry's eyes and could see many emotions: pain, sadness, confusion. He didn't know what had happened to the kid in front of him, but he sure as hell understood that look. "You can take a break from telling me if you want."

"Look. I, uh, I should go," Barry said, and pulled out his wallet to placed some cash on the table and grabbed his coat. "I don't want to bother you with my crappy-" He was getting up to slide out of the booth, but froze when Len took hold of his wrist. His face was puzzled as he looked from Len’s hand to his face.

"It's okay to talk." Len locked eyes with Barry. "Keeping things pent up for so long won't do any good. It will eat away until you explode in rage or become an empty shell. Trust me on that."

Barry’s eyes grew wide with shock, unable to look away. That was not something he had expected to hear from Leonard Snart. Was he so pathetic that his arch-enemy had to tell him that bottling up is bad for his health? Barry's usually the one that tells Snart he can better himself, not the other way around.

Barry was already overstaying his welcome and could feel his eyes stinging. This wasn't the time or place to break, not in front of the people here and especially not in front of Len. No way this was happening. He couldn't break down and make a fuss. That would cause attention, and he can't cause attention. It would be showing Parker and the other guys right, that Barry would be seeking attention. Seeking attention. Attention... Seeking. Seeking. Attention. Attention, attention, attENTION, ATTENTION, ATTENTION...

"-arry. Barry, you're safe. It's okay. You're okay." Len was kneeling right in front of him, whispering his words and holding both of Barry's hands. "Barry?"

Barry’s eyes fluttered, brows knitted as he came to realize he was sitting at the edge of the booth, instead of standing like he was a moment ago. His eyes locked on to Len’s. The bar ambiance of murmuring chatter, music, and the clanking of pool balls grew louder over their silence. It was an excited yell from a patron winning a game that pulled Barry out of his trance.

He shook his head and closed his eyes tight as he tried to pull out of Len’s grasp. Len firmly kept his hold on him, but not too tight, as he pulled Barry out of the booth.

"C'mon."

He lead Barry away from the open bar to a hallway around the corner before Barry could protest. They came to a door with an opaque window, which Len unlocked and gently ushered Barry inside.

Barry wondered if he should have been on alert while being in an unknown room with Captain Cold. He was so exhausted from the day's events and the cold weather, he really didn't feel like fighting.

He never would tell the rest of his team, but Barry trusted Snart. Sure, he probably shouldn't, given that he betrayed them just half a year ago. But after having some time to think the situation through, he could hardly blame his actions. They shouldn't have been imprisoning the metas either way.

Barry's train of thought then switched to the bar. He didn't remember if he had eaten all the food he’d ordered. Did he even pay? Would the waitress be angry at him for not being there when she came back? He would have to find out if he got the chance.

Why was he in this room, again? It was nice. There were brick walls, some covered with bookcases filled with quite a collection. Barry noticed a few books he owned, as well as books that were on his to-read list.

Toward the back of the room, there was a large, dark wooden desk, traditional styled. Adjacent to the left was a nice leather couch, that Barry suspected to cost close to two thousand dollars. He thought the couch was dark blue, but it could have been black. The room wasn’t bright enough to tell. Barry wondered why he here, why Len had brought him here, and why he had a key. But his voice failed him in asking these questions. Should he have not turned his back to his arch-nemesis?

That last question proved pointless when Len walked over to Barry and took his hands in his again, looking into Barry's eyes, and with a soft voice asked, "Are you okay, Barry?"

Barry furrowed his brows at the question. "I- Of course I'm okay. I'm fine. Aces." He froze for half a second, wondering why he said 'aces.' But the top question on his mind was 'Why does Snart even care?'

He could have just flashed out of the bar but remembering the snow outside had changed his mind. Barry didn’t feel like being out in the cold again unless he absolutely had to. The cold slowed his molecules down, freezing out his warmth and focus from connecting to the Speed Force.

Snart was close enough that Barry could smell a trace of mint, making Barry wonder if he rubs mint leaves on himself to get the smell. Were his eyes always this icy blue? Barry hadn't focused so much on his piercing eyes before. They seemed to glow in the low lighting as Len looked at him with intent. It sent a chill up his spine. Shit.

"Are you okay?" He made a point to separate each enunciated word by half a second. Barry was about to answer, only to be cut off immediately before. "This time, think about your answer before giving it."

Barry sighed. "No, I'm not."

"Damn right, you're not. You had a full blown panic attack over there." Len squinted his eyes. "Now what's going on with you?"

Barry opened his mouth as if to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. Attention seeker, attention seeker, ATTENTION SEEKER. He flinched, a shiver ran down his spine and he closed his eyes.

"Why... do you even care?"

"Just color me intrigued." Len wouldn't tell anyone, but he had a small soft spot for the kid. He liked him, and seeing him struggle with himself bothered Len. More so, since Len wasn't the one bothering him. But this ran deeper than their fun as the Flash and Captain Cold.

He had noticed when Barry flinched but didn't say anything. He was sure Barry hoped he missed that movement.

Barry sighed, taking one of his hands to push back his hair and settle on the back of his neck. "Fine. Just let me sit down."

Len lead them to the couch, facing each other as they sat. Their hands were comfortable enough with each other that they forgot the touch was supposed to feel foreign. It was just nice, having some feeling of comfort. Len leaned his head on his free hand, propping himself against the back of the couch.

Barry took in a shaky breath before he started again, focusing on a shiny button on Len's jacket. "I had one other close friend through to the end of high school, I really thought Mike was my friend," he scoffed. "He's the one that put the party together, and I... was reminded that everyone thought I was deliberately being an... attention seeker.” He let out a sigh. “I had kept going on about the man in yellow, and how he was the real murderer, and how my father was falsely convicted.

"I guess my friends got tired of me telling what actually happened when everyone else believed that my father actually did it. They never told me to my face, but other people had no problem speaking their mind, and their fists. Michael only stayed my friend because he felt sorry for me.” He took a beat. “It's insulting. I thought he was my best friend, when I was just some joke to him."

Barry took his free hand, placing it over his mouth before slowly wiping it down his face. He looked at Len's eyes and gave a small smile. "I told him I saw who he really was, and that he didn't have to pretend to be my friend anymore…”

"What happened after that?"

"What else? I left the party. I couldn't stay there or I could have exposed my identity. It was a struggle enough to not immediately flash out."

"And what's this Michael's full name again?"

"It's- Wait. Why do you want to know?"

Len tilted his head and pursed his lips before they turned into a wicked smile. "Inquiring minds."

"No. Uh, uh. Even though I'm not friends with him anymore, I'm not giving you his name."

"That's fair." Len's eyes gazed down at the hand he was holding and softly massaged the back of Barry's hand with his thumb. "But I could always just look up the school records and find him myself."

"What? No, please don't. That's not going to help anything."

"How else will he ever learn?"

"Remember our deal, Snart."

"Len," he corrected Barry.

Barry gave a sigh but corrected himself, "Len."

"I remember it perfectly," Len smiled, "Just as I remember you saying this Michael guy is your ex -best friend. I promised not to hurt your friends ." Len was mostly just riling Barry up, trying to distract him from the awful night. He wouldn't go after Michael unless Barry gave the okay. But Barry didn't know that.

He gave him a threatening look, opening his mouth to argue back before he was interrupted by the door handle jiggling and a hand pounding on the door.

"Snart, the hell this locked for?"

Barry jumped up, pulling his hand from Len's and looked towards the door. "Shit. Sh-should I flash out?"

"Relax, kid. It'll be cool ." Barry rolled his eyes at the pun, but nodded and took in a breath before letting out it out shaky.

"Snart!"

Len opened the door with his usual smirk plastered on. "Mick. What's the point of a private office if I can't have privacy?"

"You get plenty privacy, ‘specially when you're alone with me," Mick grinned and winked as he walked into the office.

Len refrained from rolling his eyes. “ Mick .”

Barry thought he had heard wrong. Did Mick Rory just insinuate that he and Leonard Snart are sexually involved? Barry’s starting to wonder if he’d walked into another universe.

“The fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Both Len and Mick turned to him.

There are some moments when Barry wished he could escape without his identity being revealed. This is one of those moments.

“You got a problem?”

“Mick.”

“What? Me? N-no! I-I-”

“Because it sounds like ya got a problem,” Mick said as he walked into Barry’s bubble.

“I said I don’t. So sorry to disappoint you. Though if you really want a fight, bring it on.”

“Barry!” Len hissed.

Barry almost forgot that he was supposed to be a normal CSI. Any normal person with the same height and build as Barry would be out cold if Mick gave them a fist. But with the day he’d had, throwing punches at someone giving him crap sounded very therapeutic.

Arms up and ready in a fighting stance, Barry was ready for Mick to throw the first punch. But it didn’t come. A hardy laugh filled the room and Mick gripped his hand on Barry’s shoulder. Barry quickly realized that the fight wasn’t gonna happen and lowered his arms.

“You’ve got guts, kid. Snart, where’d you pick him up? High school detention?”

"For real? I'm 26, not 14." If he had a dollar for every time someone thought he was underage...

Mick looked at Barry, then took his hand off and turned to Len with a sly smile. “You should be careful, Lenny. I’m sure this is border jailbait.”

Barry’s face quickly turned bright red. "Wha-at? No. No, no. We aren’t—I'm not—He isn’t— There is nothing going on between us!" He was embarrassed with how red he got all over, with the addition of his voice cracking. "Besides, I'm not even his type. So that's just ridiculous to even think about. I—" He started to feel his temperature rise, wishing he wasn’t wearing a suit.

Len raised an eyebrow and smirked, deciding to put Barry out of his misery. "Mick, this is Barry. He just learned one of his long-time best friends is secretly a jackass."

"Ahh, tough break, kid. I could always rough 'im up for ya, if you like."

"Wh-what? No!" Barry squeaked and furrowed his brow. "I mean, I just turned down Len's offer, I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Mm. Your choice, I s'ppose."

Barry let out a huff and gave Mick a curt nod, at least thankful that he wasn't storming off to hurt anyone. He realized how close he’d come to fighting Heat Wave just now. This whole confrontation was a whiplash from finding out Snart and Rory sleep with each other to an almost fist fight, and then insinuating Barry and Len were involved. What the hell is with this day?