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“Why is he here?” Cisco immediately starts whining as soon as Len hops off of his bike.
“You’re the one who lost him,” Len reminds the Star Labs engineer. “You don’t get to pick teams for the search and rescue. Just be grateful you didn’t interrupt any impending Valentine’s Day plans.”
Cisco scoffs. “Like I’d believe you had a hot date tonight. What, is there an app for career criminals who specialize in kidnapping and jewelry theft?”
“I don’t know, Cisco, why don’t you ask my sister when you see her?”
“Cisco, please,” Iris interrupts, raising a calming hand in his direction before Cisco can reply. “I called him here.”
“You did what?” Joe West barks, and Len tenses automatically. Trigger-happy cops have never agreed with him.
“We don’t have time for this Dad, we need to move,” Iris insists, frustration written all over her face. “This person has Barry! We need to be getting him back, not standing around in the one place we know he’s not.”
The thought of Barry being trapped down there is sobering, and Len can see the effect of Iris’ words on everyone here just as well, as the detective slumps his shoulders in defeat.
“You’re right. The tunnel,” Cisco suggests. “We know that’s where he was when we lost the signal. We should go down there, see where it leads. Maybe we can find a trail.”
The tunnel in question is pitch black and narrow. Its smell is part wet dog, part musty basement, but there’s the faintest trace of Barry’s crisp Calvin Klein cologne still lingering in the air, and Len’s flashlight beam is shining on definite drag marks through the dust.
“Why can’t it ever be a clean, well-lighted trail?” Cisco grumbles, trying to step around a pile of damp leaves.
A few minutes later, they find themselves at a confluence of the Central City sewer system, with new tunnels branching off in three different directions.
“The drag marks stop here,” Iris observes, worriedly.
“They could have gone out,” Len suggests, pointing at a manhole cover above them. “Gotten into a car. They could be anywhere.”
“So we split up,” Joe suggests, tentatively. “And hope that whoever it was doesn’t snatch us up one by one.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Len frowns.
“Like I do?” Cisco snaps. “Do you not have a television? That is literally how you get murdered!”
“Guys,” Iris says, standing between them. “Barry, remember? Kidnapped?”
“So we split up,” Len nods, although his voice is clipped, “Even though he’s probably miles away above ground by now.”
“You’re not helping,” Iris chides him.
Len’s glad that it’s dark enough that they won’t notice him rolling his eyes.
“Alright,” he says. “You figure it out. I’m taking the one on the left.”
Len is moving as silently as he can through the darkness. He’s turned off his flashlight so that his eyes can adjust. Whoever has Barry, if they’re down here, Len wants to see them before they see him.
Len sees the faintest outline of light ahead, a glowing rectangle outlining a hidden door, probably. He approaches slowly, tries to calculate how long he was walking, the general direction he’s been heading.
Len throws his shoulder against the door, banging into a room where Barry is tied to a chair and wired to a machine. Len fires his Cold Gun in the direction of the figure in black who tries to rush at him. The blast hits them square in the chest, and they yelp in pain. Len elbows them in the face and they fall to the floor, then kick Len’s legs out from beneath him. Len lands heavily, cursing up a storm, as Barry’s captor scrambles up and starts to run out of the room. Len leaps up and fires his gun again, but the kidnapper sprints away down the corridor.
Len turns his attention to Barry, quickly untying his hands.
“Leo-na-ard!” Barry trills, sounding kind of drunk. “You’re here!” As if they’ve just run into each other at a party.
Len frowns, notices the syringe next to Barry’s chair.
“You okay there, kid?”
He bends down and unties Barry’s legs, takes a close look at the cut and purplish bruise on his temple. It should’ve healed by now. Len would know; he’s made it his job to find out exactly what makes the Flash tick. Whatever they injected him with appears to have cut his powers right off.
“Peachy!” Barry tells him. His pupils are huge.
“Is that so? Because you sound drunk as a skunk.”
Barry giggles. “Silly Lenny. I can’t get drunk.”
“Mm. Can you walk?” Len asks, helping Barry to his feet. Barry makes a dismissive noise, then takes a step and almost collapses onto Len.
“Wow, careful.”
“Just wanted to hug you,” Barry mutters, as Len struggles to stay upright. “Can we go now?”
“Good idea,” Len agrees, half-dragging Barry as he guides his nemesis’ swaying stumble footed progress out the door and back down the passageway.
Barry stumbles into Len and almost falls twice. Len has his hand around Barry’s waist and Barry is clinging to him, one arm around Len’s shoulders and his other hand loosely grasping Len’s shirt. Whenever Len shifts position Barry makes an unhappy questing sound, and moves to settle his head down on Len’s shoulder, or press his face against Len’s throat.
“Do you think you can try to walk on your own now?” Len asks. He’s not entirely sure how far they still have to go and he’s worried about Barry’s tormentor potentially coming back for seconds.
Barry’s hand goes tight in Len’s shirt, and against Len’s shoulder he feels Barry shake his head.
Len sighs and goes back to trying to gently detach Barry’s hand from his shirt while Barry makes complaining sounds that are almost actual whines.
“Please,” Barry says, and Len goes still. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
Len takes a step back, disentangling himself from Barry to try and get a good look at him in the semi-darkness. He seems vulnerable, Len realizes abruptly. Cracked open. Not even when he left him battered and bruised on the floor of Ferris Air has Len ever seen the Flash look this powerless and he gets the fleeting thought that he never wants to see it again.
“I’m not gonna leave,” Len says, softer now.
“You hate me,” Barry says sadly.
Oh, for fuck’s sake—
“Barry. Listen to me. We need to get a move on and get you back to Star Labs. Yes, you and I hated each other but that was a long time ago. We were enemies, remember?”
“I didn’t hate you,” Barry says stubbornly, which is comical, but he follows it up with, “I liked you from the day I met you. You hated me.”
The part of Len’s brain that controls speech fills with static.
There are things he could say in return, but he doesn’t think Barry will believe them, not while he’s in this state.
“I don’t hate you now,” Len whispers.
Barry closes his eyes, tipping his head forward to rest his forehead against Len’s. “You promise?”
Len sighs but he doesn’t move away again, although he’s careful not to press against Barry’s injuries. “Whatever it was they injected you with, it really did a number on you, huh? Yes, Barry, I promise.”
Barry lets out a long relieved breath. Len feels sorry enough for him that he lets Barry cuddle back up willingly enough, putting an arm around his waist to support his weight again.
As though sensing the new give in Len’s body as he accepts that the cuddling is gonna keep happening, Barry makes a pleased, interested sound and begins to nose along the skin above Len’s shirt collar.
“Okay, kid, cool it,” Len says, in a firm and calm way.
“You smell good,” Barry mumbles against his throat. “Why do you always smell so damn good?”
“We’re standing in a sewer,” Len says. “You’re ridiculous.”
"Your face is ridiculous,” Barry snaps.
Len can’t believe his day is turning into forced cuddles and insults. Heroes are the worst.
Thankfully, they’ve finally reached the same junction Len left the rest of Barry’s team at. They’re all here already, having apparently gone back on their tracks when they couldn’t find Barry.
Iris notices them first and goes slack with relief. “Thank God,” she sighs.
Barry’s head snaps up at the sound of Iris’s voice. He gazes at his friends and smiles vaguely. Joe and Cisco both move forward to try and support Barry’s other side. Barry grimaces and sags harder against Len. “I know you wanna kiss me,” he laughs, low and intimate and close by Len’s ear, as if at a private joke.
The tension radiating off their rescue party is sharp enough to pierce Len’s mellow disposition.
“He’s drugged,” Len explains urgently. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Drugged?” Joe repeats, reaching out to shine a flashlight into Barry’s eyes, his blown pupils.
Barry shies away from the harsh light and hides his face in Len’s shoulder, to his foster father’s bewilderment.
“Who drugged him?” Cisco asks.
“Hell if I know. But it did something to his powers — I don’t think he’s healing correctly. There was a room a little farther down. They hooked him up to a machine. I saw an empty syringe, but I didn’t pick it up.”
Joe nods and points at Cisco and Iris. “Okay, the two of you get Barry back to Star Labs. I’ll go investigate and see if I can find out anything about our mysterious kidnapper.”
“Bring the syringe back if it’s still there,” Iris says. “Caitlin might need to run some tests on it to figure out what they injected him with.”
Her father agrees, then looks back at Barry, taking note of the way his foster son is clinging to Len.
Len glares back, silently daring the detective to say something or shoot him for his efforts.
Joe scoffs, shaking his head a little, but he doesn’t take the bait and heads down the tunnel the same way Len and Barry came.
“Okay, buddy,” Cisco quips in an overly cheerful voice, clearly aiming to defuse the tension. “Let’s get you back to the lab.”
Barry is still clinging to Len like a limpet but he turns his face towards Cisco, blinking bleary eyes at him. “Oh, hey, Cisco!”
"Hey, Barr. You’re, uh, you’re holding on awfully tight there, buddy,” Cisco says. “You wanna maybe let go of the nice criminal man?”
Len suppresses an eye roll but Barry, who is in absolutely no hurry to let go, just obliviously answers, “No, ’m good.”
There’s a delicate pause, during which Len is suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he hasn’t done anything to push Barry away since Cisco and Iris got here. Len clears his throat.
“I can help him back out if he can’t walk by himself,” he says in a harsh voice. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
Iris is looking at him with that ‘Iris West, investigative reporter’ look of hers that always sees more than she reasonably should but she acquiesces and all four of them (minus the detective) start making their way out of the tunnel together.
The sun is setting when they finally make their way back to the surface. Blinking against the sudden brightness, Len guides Barry back to Iris’ car and after several unsuccessful attempts, Cisco and Iris manage to convince Barry to let go of Len and lean against the car instead.
“There you go, Scarlet,” Len says, telling himself firmly he does not miss the weight of Barry’s body against his.
Barry gives him that big dopey smile again and raises a hand in Len’s direction but his fingers just miss grazing Len’s face each time he reaches out.
There’s something oddly endearing about his clumsy attempts at waving goodbye. Len bats him away and scowls at him, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through on his own face. Nervous that it would be perceived — by Barry, or perhaps by a startlingly observant Iris —he gruffly clears his throat again, getting Iris’ attention.
“I trust you can take it from here and won’t manage to lose him again on your way back,” Len snarls, because he’s an asshole.
Iris raises an eyebrow in his direction. “I guess we know where to find you if we do.”
Len clenches his jaw in annoyance at being so easily found out, but tellingly doesn’t answer. He opens the car door instead and watches Cisco help Barry to the back seat, mindful of his head.
“Thank you,” Iris says, coming to stand at Len’s side. “For your help with Barry.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Cisco says grudgingly. “I’m sure that wasn’t what any of us had in mind for Valentine’s Day.”
Barry, who’s been mostly letting himself be manoeuvered into the car, sits up like he’s been shot.
“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he yelps, and he’s looking right at Len now and beaming. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lenn —”
Len abruptly closes the car door, cutting Barry off and narrowly missing Cisco’s fingers.
“Hey!” Cisco yelps, jumping back. Next to him, Iris is giving Len a smug, knowing look.
“Make sure to buckle your seat belts,” Len drawls before turning on his heels and walking away.
Much, much later that night, Len is lying in bed between sleep and consciousness when he hears a soft sound at his back that makes him snap his eyes open in alarm. For a few tense seconds, Len doesn’t move, doesn’t dare breathe, before abruptly relaxing at the familiar presence and lifting up the bed covers behind him in invitation.
“You gonna climb in or you just gonna stand there like a serial killer in a slasher movie?”
There’s a whooshing sound, the crack of lightning, and then Len is laying on his back against the pillow with Barry sitting on top of him, straddling his hips. Len reaches to turn on his bedside lamp before focusing back on the menace in front of him.
“Hey there,” Barry says, giving Len a playful smile.
He’s got a mischievous gleam in his eyes, but they’re clear, no sign of the drugs, and he looks like himself again. Len much prefers this version over the helpless mess from earlier, cowering in Len’s arms.
“Hey yourself,” Len answers, before dragging Barry down into a kiss.
Barry offers no resistance at all and he angles his head so that his tongue is licking against Len’s lips, trying to pry them open.
The kissing is slow and fast at the same time. Len is struggling to breathe against him, distracted by the pleasant weight of Barry’s body pressing down on Len and the way Barry dips his tongue into Len’s mouth and licks, before drawing it back into his own. Len’s tongue follows Barry’s, greedy for contact, and Len groans and bucks his hips against Barry when he feels him gently bite down on it and suck. It makes Len’s chest tighten and his breath explode in his chest, and he clutches at Barry’s back, pulling him closer. It’s like little electrical surges are running everywhere, from all of Len’s nerves. His skin buzzes and something inside of him pops and clenches.
Too soon Barry breaks the kiss and rolls off of Len, panting for breath. He sits up, trying to get his bearings. His face is flushed and his lips are swollen, and his hair catches the dim light from the bedside lamp, turning it into a golden bronze color.
“I see you got your powers back,” Len gasps. He would never admit it, but he can’t catch his breath either.
“I did,” Barry confirms, huffing out a laugh, still a little out of breath himself. “Caitlin was able to find the cure for the drug. They came back as soon as it wore off.”
“Team Flash saves the day again,” Len murmurs. “Color me shocked.”
There’s a pause, then Barry sighs.
“I’m sorry my team called you,” he says. They’re leaning back against the wall, pretending to be casual and not making much in the way of eye contact. “I know that’s not what this is.”
Len thinks about the feeling of dread that settled into his stomach when he got the call. About not being able to take a proper breath until Barry was safe in his arms.
“Don’t worry about it,” Len shrugs with affected casualness. “Your fearless leader made sure to sweeten the deal with promises of future upgrades on my gun. I’ll be collecting on those, by the way.”
Maybe if he can convince Barry the usual quid pro quo between them is why Len agreed to help, he might start believing it himself.
But if anything Barry becomes more agitated at the mention of Iris. He turns his face away and says: “Right, um. About that. I need to tell you something that’s probably gonna piss you off.”
Len quirks an eyebrow at him, expectant.
“Iris knows about us,” Barry blurts out, looking at his hands. He glances up at Len and then back down nervously. “It’s my fault, the way I was acting when I was drugged, the fact that it was with you and no one else… She knew something was up.”
Len merely takes the news in stride. “I figured she might.”
Barry blinks, looking genuinely surprised.
Len shrugs. “She’s smart, perceptive, and your best friend.” Len’s mouth curls up at one corner. “Besides, you weren’t exactly being subtle.”
Barry groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh god, don’t remind me.” He peers at Len through his fingers. “Are you really not mad?”
“No, Scarlet, I’m not mad.”
“Oh. That’s good, then.” Len can tell his lack of reaction has knocked Barry off kilter. “Still, a kidnapping and no chocolates, kind of a lousy Valentine’s Day,” he jokes, peering from the corner of his eye to read Len’s reaction.
Len knows he’s expected to clam up then, ruin the mood, maybe make some cutting remark about how they’re not a couple so why should he care, and maybe before today he would have. He’d kick Barry out and go back to pretending he means nothing to Len. Maybe.
“Well… you can always make it up to me,” Len hears himself say instead.
Next time is at the very least implied and Len’s not sure whether Barry will pick up on it or if Len even wants him to. It seems a little presumptuous, to assume they might still be doing this a year from now. It feels like too much of a concession to admit that he wants it to last that long. It makes Len feel vulnerable. Cracked open.
It’s worth it, Len ultimately decides, to see the way Barry Allen smiles at him. It’s not one of the wide, beaming smiles he bestows on the good citizens of Central City; it’s small and secret, a little mischievous, just for Len. Len catches the light of it under lowered eyelashes and he’s struck by how much he feels just then.
“I guess I’ll just have to up my game,” Barry says, tilting his head towards Len, that little smile still playing about his mouth and speculative lights dancing in his eyes.
“Looking forward to it,” Len retorts with that little bit of a drawl in his voice, before busying himself with turning off the light and then lying back down on his pillow like he isn’t shaking a little bit inside.
Barry lies down on the pillow next to him, his face just a few inches away from Len’s.
Len looks at him and feels unusually sentimental, and maybe it’s the sleep deprivation that makes him say, “I didn’t hate you.”
He can barely make out the outline of Barry’s face in the shadows. Len puts his fingers on the back of Barry’s neck and rubs at the base of his hairline.
“I liked you from the day I met you,” Len whispers, barely louder than a breath.
He hears Barry’s breath catch but Len leans in, careful and deliberate by moonlight, and kisses the response out of Barry’s open mouth before he has time to articulate a single word. The kiss is a gentle thing, so soft Len can barely stand it, and when they part Barry presses his head against Len’s shoulder, his hand splayed across Len’s stomach, the touch warm through Len’s shirt, and Len is on the brink of consciousness before he knows it.
It’s not a bad way to spend Valentine’s Day, Len reflects, his last fleeting thought before sleep overtakes him. Of course he could have done without the kidnapping. Tomorrow, he’ll work on tracking down the mysterious figure who decided to pull this little stunt, maybe deliver them to Star Labs wrapped up beautifully with a nice, neat bow as a belated gift. It’s not the traditional candlelit dinner and presents, but right now, with Barry breathing steadily against Len’s neck, safe and sound in Len’s arms, he’s finding it hard to be too upset by how things turned out.
He thinks, There’s always next year, and lets his eyes close.