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Barry should have realised that something wasn't quite right. Later, he'd blame it on the tiredness and the adrenaline, on the rush of emotions of having Leonard back, safe and sound.
If he noticed a moment of hesitation when he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him into a kiss, he marked it down to surprise and Leonard's usual discomfort at displays of affection that he didn't initiate himself. It barely lasted a second, then he was kissing back, his hands coming up to cradle Barry's neck with a new kind of tenderness. He peppered Barry's lips with sweet, frustratingly brief kisses before he pulled away and disentangled himself.
The satisfied smirk on his face was familiar, but—
"Much as I hate to say it, I'm afraid you got the wrong Leonard Snart, Barry."
Oh. Oh. Crap.
Flustered, Barry took a step backwards, stumbling over his own feet and only able to steady himself in time thanks to his super speed.
"Leo, hi. I didn't know you were visiting," he said, attempting to mask his embarrassment with nonchalance and probably missing my miles. He nervously rubbed his neck and tried his best to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks.
It was only when he gathered the courage to look up that he spotted the familiar figure leaning in the doorway.
Well, fuck.
Barry was torn between the desire to speed over to his boyfriend and give him the welcome he deserved, and the urge to flash away and hide until the Legends' shore leave was over. Leonard's posture was demonstratively relaxed, slouching against the wall with his arms and his ankles crossed, but his expression was shuttered. It was impossible to read if he was amused or pissed off. If Barry knew him at all – and he liked to think he did, despite his lapse in judgement just now – he'd bet it was a little of both.
"Care to tell me why you're making out with my boyfriend, Leo?"
Yeah, safe to say that he was pissed. His drawl was more pronounced than ever, and even across the room, Barry could see the way his jaw was working. At least he didn't seem to be pissed at Barry.
Leo pivoted on his feet, smooth and with a flourish. "You can't really blame me. Let's not pretend you wouldn't have done the exact same thing if a cute boy in tight red leather had thrown himself at you. Never mind your long history of taking things that don't belong to you. You know how the saying goes about stones and glass houses. Or should that be rubies and ice houses?"
Oh God, the puns were rubbing off. And they weren't they only thing, apparently.
"It's not leather," Barry protested. Then, belatedly, "— and I didn't throw myself at you!" Even though he kind of had? Maybe? But he'd been sure it was Leonard, not Leo, so he really didn't think it was fair to phrase it like that.
Not that it mattered, because both Snarts deigned to ignore him.
Leonard – his Leonard, Barry couldn't help mentally adding, unable to deny the twinge of possessiveness – stepped away from the door and crossed the distance towards Leo, a swagger in his step like he wanted to draw extra attention to the Cold Gun at his thigh. Barry would have rolled his eyes at the macho posturing if it wasn't so fucking hot.
"First rule of thievery," Leonard said, holding up a finger. "Don't get caught."
There was ice in his tone, but instead of backing off, Leo only seemed egged on, his smirk growing. And as much as Barry was flattered (and maybe a tiny bit aroused) by the idea of two Leonard Snarts having a pissing contest over him, he didn't want to explain to Cisco and the others later on how the cortex was destroyed by getting covered in thick layers of frost.
He pushed between them, facing his boyfriend. "Okay, here's the thing. I'm not some kind of priceless artifact that's up for grabs. No one's going to steal me."
For a moment, Leonard didn't react, his attention still fixed on his doppelganger, staring Leo down over Barry's shoulder. Then he pulled his gaze away, steel blue eyes turning to Barry with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. He'd almost forgotten what it was like, having Captain Cold's undivided attention. It was something he could never get enough of, especially now that it didn't come with frosty blasts from the Cold Gun and police sirens anymore.
"Are you saying that you're mine, Barry?" Leonard asked, voice smooth like the expensive whiskey he kept stealing from Joe's shelf.
Barry swallowed against the tightness in his throat, the lightning-hot rush of arousal. Behind him, he heard Leo huff out a laugh, but he had no time for that now.
"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying."
Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Leonard's, gently coaxing him until the hard, unresponsive line of his lips softened underneath Barry's, until Leonard kissed back with a hunger that was so different from Leo's sweet butterfly kisses that Barry didn't understand how he could ever have mixed them up to begin with.
End.