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When Barry asks for Leonard’s help on the Flash’s most recent metahuman case, it isn’t because he thinks it will be particularly difficult; it’s because he thinks Leonard will grow bored if he doesn’t. So far, he's kept his promise not to plan any more heists; if Barry knows him, he craves an adrenaline rush, and soon. Hopefully, a quick chase after an unknown metahuman will be enough.
“What can this meta do?” Leonard drawls. He’s ill at ease in STAR Labs—he always has been, but this is his first time stepping inside since returning from the Wave Rider. The others’ reactions to his presence, which range from frosty displeasure to outright scowling, aren’t helping. (Barry had pleaded with them to forgive and forget, as he’s trying to, but Cisco in particular seems to want to hold a grudge.)
“We’re not sure.” Barry explains because he doubts anyone else will. “All we’ve found are these shards of…something. Like spikes, I guess, embedded into things. I guess they throw them?”
Leonard nods, considering. “That’s unfortunate,” he says. “Do you know where we can find them?”
Barry glances at Cisco, who narrows his eyes but pronounces, “Well, they're on some sort of revenge trip. That’s all I can say for sure. We cross-referenced the names of the people the meta has killed so far, looking for any connection, and the only place they all lead is a strip club, so have fun with that.”
Leonard arches an eyebrow at Barry. “We’re staking out a strip club? Is this some kind of test?”
“No, I really want your help. We shouldn’t have to go inside.” Barry is quietly hoping that, provided they have energy left after dealing with the metahuman, they’ll see something along the way that will revive their sex life. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to have sex with Leonard yet; he knows he’ll spend the whole time wondering how he compares with Sara. With the right motivation, though…
“It’s a meta-only strip club,” Cisco points out. “Whoever our meta is after, they’ll have powers too. Barry figured you’d be good backup if the two of you walk into a meta brawl.” Under his breath, he adds, “I think you’re a cheating bastard and I don’t trust you, but it’s Barry’s call.”
Leonard inclines his head. He’s taken the others’ distrust without a word of complaint, as though he wants them to know they’re right. It gives Barry strange, painful pangs; he’s seen how guilty Leonard is over the whole thing, and he wishes the others could, too. “Fair enough. Are you running us, Flash?”
Not for the first time, Barry misses ‘Scarlet.’ He’d asked for no nicknames—he’d thought the distance was necessary—but he’s regretted it since. “Yeah. Hold tight.”
It takes seconds to run them to the doors of the club. Still, on the approach, Barry has what feels like minutes to notice the man walking toward the door of the club. He’s wearing an unseasonably thick coat that doesn’t quite hide the dark, splinter-like spots around his wrists. To protect Leonard, Barry drops him off two paces back and behind the metahuman. He runs forward and skids to a stop between the meta and the door. “Hey,” he says brightly. “I think we need to talk.”
The metahuman hisses through his teeth and holds up a hand. Barry raises his fists, ready to defend himself, but the metahuman only pulls back his collar to reveal a small red tattoo—a simple, cartoon devil and the number four. When Barry stares, bewildered, the metahuman points at the door.
“They marked you like that?” Barry asks. Over the metahuman’s shoulder, he sees Leonard glaring at him. He can’t help it—if this metahuman has been trafficked or abused, it’s his job to help. “Okay. Okay, I understand. But whatever you’re here to do, that’s not the way.”
The metahuman thrusts out with both hands. Barry skitters to one side just in time to avoid a trio of dark, flat spikes.
“I get it,” he tries again. “They hurt you, they used you, you want revenge. It’s not worth it. This is just going to get you locked up in Iron Heights—” He dodges another scattering of spikes. “—You really want to go from their captivity to the police’s? Because if you keep going—” He ducks. “—I don’t have a choice, I can’t let you hurt anyone.”
The ground turns to ice. The metahuman tries to turn around, slips, and falls. Barry winces. He’s done that—it’s not fun.
“Really, Flash.” Leonard saunters over. The muzzle of the cold gun stays aimed at the metahuman, who despite glaring daggers at them doesn’t make a move to attack. “Either let the kid take his vengeance or don’t play the bleeding heart card.”
Barry glares at him. He knows what Leonard means—he knows the burning, consuming ache of needing to hurt someone who’s hurt you—but it’s his job to protect people, whatever hideous things they’ve done. “I brought you for your help, not your snark.”
“And yet, here we are.” Leonard keeps a watchful eye on them while Barry kneels down and secures meta cuffs around the metahuman’s wrists. He’s got the first cuff on one of his wrists when he makes the mistake of looking up. The metahuman has twisted around to glare at him, and when Barry looks up at him, he spits a spike at Barry’s face.
Instinctively, Barry drops into flashtime. He has time to move—plenty, as it happens—but he prioritizes snapping the cuffs closed. They activate with a little whine; their dampening field will protect against any more sharp surprises. Before he can move out of the way, something solid impacts his side. He snaps out of flashtime and finds Leonard crouched beside him, the cold gun lying forgotten.
“I would have moved,” he mumbles.
“Forgive me for being worried, Flash.” Leonard grabs the metahuman by his collar and hauls him to his feet. “You weren’t moving.”
Barry runs the metahuman to CCPD and drops him in Singh’s office alongside the files of the four murders he probably committed. When he returns to the club, Leonard is once again crouched on the ground, his cold gun in hand.
“Hey.” Barry skids to a stop at his side. Leonard glances up at him. His eyes are hidden behind his goggles, but there’s something not quite right about his face. Barry tries to mask his worry when he holds out a hand. “Come on. I’ll run us back to STAR Labs.”
Leonard takes his hand and lets Barry help him up. This of itself isn’t odd: since they got together, Leonard seems to enjoy the little helpful touches that he would previously have disdained. However, once he stands up, his hand drops to his side. A quick glance reveals a dark stain spreading across the dark blue of his parka.
“Len,” Barry gasps.
Leonard manages a chuckle. “He…might have grazed me. Stupid. I moved into it.” He groans and curls forward. Barry lunges forward and wraps him in an embrace.
“Gotcha, I gotcha. I’m going to run with you, okay, unless you think I shouldn’t? Because I can also call Caitlin and tell her to bring the STAR van…”
Leonard shakes his head. “No, you can run with me. I trust you.”
Barry cradles him close and runs. Leonard makes a soft, pained noise that’s drawn out to horrific length by the time dilation; Barry can hear every subtle, wounded note as though it’s a prolonged cry. He drops out of the Speed Force as soon as he’s able, desperate to be rid of that terrible wounded breath.
“You’re back—oh no. Caitlin!” Cisco bolts to his feet as soon as he registers that something is wrong. It says a lot, Barry thinks, that despite his avowed grudge, he hurries forward without hesitation to help.
Leonard waves Caitlin and Cisco away. “I can walk, I can…” There’s a space between heartbeats where he must grey out, because he leans heavily on Barry’s shoulder. Barry clutches him close and makes meaningless little hushing sounds.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, come on.”
He helps Leonard stagger to the medbay. Removing his parka clearly hurts, but he grits his teeth and manages a feeble quip. “If you hadn’t sped that meta away when you did, I’d have made him suffer for ruining my outfit.”
Barry is aware that his laugh has an edge of panic to it. “Oh, that’s your priority right now?”
“I’ve…ah…” The pained hitch of breath makes Barry think of the noise prolonged by the time dilation. One of his hands flies up to cover his ear; the other stays pressed against Leonard’s back. “I’ve lived through worse. Really, I could have patched myself up.”
Caitlin checks a syringe for air bubbles. Leonard flinches away and stifles a pained groan. “No drugs. I told you, I’ve been through worse. Give me ibuprofen, I’ll be fine.”
“We can’t wait twenty minutes to pull this out.” Caitlin nods impatiently at the spike in his side. “You don’t want drugs, fine, but it’s going to hurt.”
Leonard shifts so he’s lying on the cot. Like this, Barry can see how pale he’s become. He raises a hand to Leonard’s goggles, only half-aware of doing it, and freezes when Leonard wraps bloodstained fingers around his wrist. “Leave them,” he murmurs.
Caitlin has to cut away Leonard’s shirt; pulling it off risks jostling the spike and worsening the wound. It’s so blood-soaked that it sticks to his skin as though it’s been glued in place. When Caitlin hesitates, Leonard reaches down and rips the fabric away from the wound. “You don’t have to coddle me,” he snaps. “I told you, I’ve dealt with worse.”
Caitlin nods. “Then be aware that this is going to hurt.”
Barry grabs Leonard’s hand and holds it tightly, trying to give him something to focus on other than the pain. He’s just in time. Caitlin pulls the spike out with a single, smooth motion, and Leonard screams. He squeezes Barry’s hand to the point of pain; then his grip slackens and his head lolls back.
“Shh,” Barry coos meaninglessly. “Shh, it’s done now.”
“It is not.” Caitlin prods at the wound. “I need to see if he damaged any internal organs. This isn’t going to be pleasant.”
Thankfully, Leonard doesn’t regain consciousness while Caitlin examines his wound. He wakes as she stitches it closed. “That…hmm…wasn’t so bad.”
“You passed out, dude.” Cisco munches obnoxiously on a Twizzler. Barry is fairly sure it’s a way to distract himself from the tension of the situation; that doesn't make him any less annoyed at the chewing sounds. “You should’ve just let Caitlin drug you.”
Caitlin ties off the final stitch. “You’re done,” she says. “In the future, try to avoid getting stabbed.”
Leonard gives her a slow, toothy grin. “I’ll do my best.”
She makes a little helpless gesture that clearly means ‘he’s your problem now’ before leaving the medbay with Cisco in tow. Cisco looks back just long enough to say, “You hurt my bestie again and I will stab you with a spike for real.”
“He doesn’t mean it,” Barry hurries to say.
“I think he does.” Leonard reaches up and fumbles with his goggles. Barry helps him take them off. Behind them, his eyes are hazy and his brow is furrowed with pain. “Hey, Scarlet.”
Barry doesn’t correct him. The old, familiar nickname breaks something in him, and before he knows what he’s doing, he rants, “Why the hell would you do that? I was going to move, I would have been fine, you didn’t have to get yourself hurt for me! What the hell were you thinking?”
Leonard blinks. “…I didn’t,” he admits slowly. “All I could see was the danger you were in. I hurt you already, Scarlet—Barry, sorry—and I couldn’t stand by and watch you get hurt again when I could do something about it.”
“Getting hurt isn’t the answer!” Barry gesticulates wildly—he has too much aimless, angry energy not to. “I don’t need to watch you bleed to love you again, okay?”
Leonard tilts his head. He looks blank and bewildered, such an odd expression to see in his normally keen eyes. “I’m not trying to guilt you into…”
“I know, I know! You were being stupid and protective like you always do, and I don’t need protected and I don’t want you hurt, and I love you, okay?” Barry clutches his hand. Slowly, Leonard squeezes back. “I love you and I don’t want you hurt any more than you want me hurt. So don’t do that again!”
Leonard stays quiet. Barry gets up and wanders around the bed in search of ibuprofen, his movements limited by the fact that one hand stays intertwined with Leonard’s. He has to turn sideways and stretch to reach the bottle of pills, and it’s impossible for him to get water without breaking contact.
“I can take it dry,” Leonard murmurs.
Reluctantly, Barry passes him a handful of pills. Leonard returns all but two. “Six, Barry? The pain isn’t that bad.”
“You got stabbed.” Barry returns to perch on the side of the bed. Leonard shifts to make room for him, his expression soft and fond.
“I did,” Leonard agrees, swallowing both pills dry. Then he adds, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this would make you feel, and I didn’t want to guilt you into caring about me. I just couldn’t watch you get hurt.”
“You’re not guilting me into anything.” Barry leans down and presses his forehead to Leonard’s—Len’s. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I just…maybe wanted you to think I did, because I was angry and petty and you did hurt me. Seeing you hurt reminded me of how stupid it was to do that to you, and if that spike had hit something important and you died thinking I didn’t love you anymore…”
“Barry, Barry, whoa. There wasn’t nearly enough force behind that spike to kill me.” Len’s hand cradles his neck. Barry melts into it with a little sigh, forcing himself to focus on the fact that Len is safe. “Don’t let your thoughts spiral like that. I’m right here.”
“I love you,” Barry whispers again. Now that he's allowing himself to say it again, he can't seem to stop. “And also I’m not bringing you on any more meta hunts.”
Len rubs his thumb over the soft skin behind Barry’s ear. “That’s fair,” he murmurs. “And…if it’s okay…I love you too.”
Barry nods, his hair trailing over Len’s brow. “It’s okay, it’s okay. And…maybe you can call me Scarlet again.”
Len goes half-cross-eyed trying to meet his eyes. Despite his aversion to eye contact, Barry forces himself not to look away while Len searches his expression. It’s worth it for the murmur of “I love you, Scarlet, and I want you safe.”
Barry huddles closer to him, mindful of the bandaged wound on his side. Len tolerates it for a moment; then he uses Barry to pull himself into a sitting position. Barry makes little fretful noises. “No, you’re hurt, lie down—”
“Caitlin has done everything she can for me, and if we stay here any longer, Cisco might stab me.” Len presses a hand to his side as though trying to hold the wound steady; then he lurches to his feet. “Take me home, Scarlet?”
Barry has to concede the Cisco-stabbing thing. As much as he’d like to pretend the threat was a joke, he remembers Cisco’s rant when Barry had mentioned Len’s cheating. “…Okay, but only if you let me look after you.”
Len freezes. Barry lays a hand on his waist to keep him steady while he waits him out. He knows Len still feels guilty to the extent that he’s loath to ask anything of Barry; he’s also of the opinion that they’ve reached the point where such guilt is unnecessary. “I’ll let you cuddle me,” he concedes.
That’s most of Barry’s definition of ‘looking after,’ so he’ll take it. “Okay, then. Let’s go home.”