Chapter Text
Barry steps out of the CCPD after thirteen hours of work, intent on nothing more than getting home, curling into bed, and sleeping. He’s not nearly attentive enough to notice the man in the blue baseball cap, at least not until that man touches his arm and murmurs, “Barry.”
“Snart?” Barry is too loud. Guiltily, he lowers his voice and tries again. “Snart? What are you doing here?”
“Walk with me.” Snart cups Barry’s elbow and guides him down the street. Barry goes willingly. If Snart is leading him into danger, he doesn’t even care. Being knocked unconscious would at least allow him to rest.
“What’s up?” Snart’s hand is surprisingly warm. Barry can’t think beyond the warmth and strength of his grip, nor does he want to try. Sleepy as he is, he’s perfectly content to lean into that capable hand and be led.
“I need a favor.” Snart’s lips twist like he’s eaten something sour. Barry isn’t sure if it’s the nature of the favor, the need to ask for one, or the necessity of asking him that’s causing his displeasure. “And yes, I’m fully prepared to do whatever you require in return—help a few little old ladies cross the street, participate in your next mission, donate a portion of my ill-gotten gains to charity.” His voice turns more teasing with each offer. Barry finds himself smiling in response. If Snart wants a deal, he’s in the mood to bargain.
“What’s the favor?”
Snart steers him to a bench in a secluded corner of the park. Barry sits, stretches his legs out in front of him, and sighs in relief. This is the first time in hours he’s been able to sit down. “I’ve been invited to a family gathering,” Snart says. With a delicate, disdainful curl of his lip, he amends, “Lisa’s family gathering, I should say, but Lisa wants me there and I can’t blame her. They’re as narrow-minded and hypocritical a group as you can imagine.”
“Lisa’s family isn’t your family too?” Barry asks, feeling monumentally stupid. Snart laughs.
“Regrettably, we had our father in common, but he doesn’t have any family left to gather. No, it’s her mother’s family, not that they’ll admit it. They estranged her mother for marrying Lewis, and they look down on me as a ‘common criminal,’ which I resent.” Of course he would. Leonard Snart is many things—‘common’ isn’t one of them. “Lisa, of course, maintains a sterling reputation. She partakes in the occasional heist, but I take the blame. It keeps her in Central City’s good graces, and unfortunately, that includes her mother’s family. For reasons I’ve never understood, despite her relationship to me and Lewis, she’s their golden girl.”
“So you want to bring me to this gathering why? To put them off their guard?” Barry narrows his eyes. He has no desire to become part of a heist, wittingly or otherwise.
Snart grins, a quick flash of teeth that sends an unwelcome shiver down Barry’s spine. “Why, Barry, you wound me. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m a better man than I was a year ago, and I want them to notice. How better than for them to meet the man who forced me to up my game?”
As tired as he is, Barry can’t hide his flush of pleasure. From Snart, a man who prides himself on being the best at what he does, being credited with ‘upping his game’ is a compliment of the highest caliber. “I mean, I guess…if you want me there.”
“There’s one condition,” Snart admits, sounding less displeased than his words would otherwise suggest. Barry tilts his head. With a slightly guilty smile, Snart explains, “The only way I’m allowed to bring someone is as a plus-one. A date.”
If asked, Barry will blame his exhaustion for the fact that his first response is not disgust but an entirely too eager “Are you asking me out on a date?” When Snart raises an eyebrow, he amends, “Let me try that again. You want me to be your fake date to a holiday party?”
Snart nods. “You’re under no obligation, of course, but I would be glad of the company.”
“Uh, sure.” Oh, Barry is going to regret this later. Right now, he can’t bring himself to care. “Just tell me when and where.”
He doesn’t notice slender fingers sneaking into his pocket until they withdraw with his phone. Before he can protest, Snart opens his contacts and creates a new one. “There,” he says, slipping the phone back into Barry’s jacket pocket. “I’ll be in touch.” He rises smoothly to his feet and turns on his heel as though about to slip away into the rapidly-falling darkness. Unexpectedly, he turns back to Barry and holds out a hand. “Allow me to walk you home. A sweet little CSI shouldn’t go wandering around all sleepy—you never know what might happen.”
Without his brain’s consent, Barry blurts, “Uh, sure.” Thus he finds himself being escorted home by a perfectly gentlemanly Leonard Snart. He enjoys it so much that when he finds himself in the lobby of his apartment building, he doesn’t know what to do. Rather than forsake him, Snart lingers, his eyes fixed on Barry’s face as though awaiting a farewell. Since it seems only proper, Barry mumbles, “Thanks for walking me.”
Snart’s eyes glint with amusement. “Be seeing you, Barry.”