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Barry is a few steps behind Len as they walk down the hall of the safe house. Len’s gait is even but his shoulders are hunched with exhaustion. Barry feels alarmingly alert in comparison. He keeps tripping over his own feet and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He’s still not entirely sure how he ended up in this situation, and he’s not entirely sure why these situations always involve Len of all people.
)))
The night had started normally enough. Alarms had gone off in the Cortex of S.T.A.R. labs, alerting him and Cisco to a robbery in progress. In the blink of an eye, Barry had been in his suit and at the bank in question. The alarms blaring there had been loud and distracting, but Barry was more caught off guard by the fact it was Captain Cold—Len—and him alone robbing the bank. No Mick or Lisa in sight, and even Cold didn’t look that enthused by the prospect of thousands of dollars at his disposal.
It was the dejected look marring the thief’s face that had Barry turning off his com and speaking softly. “Snart?”
Cold only grunted in response. The bag hanging from his side was clearly full of money and he didn’t seem to be aiming to steal anymore. He was lollygagging, killing time, and that set Barry on edge.
“Are—are you okay?” Barry had asked with a few cautious steps forward. He managed to make it to Snart’s side before receiving an answer. It wasn’t verbal, though, instead it was written across Leonard’s face. It was displayed loud and clear by the deep bags under bright blue eyes and in the way Len looks ten years older than usual. The usual laugh lines on his face seemed sharper and darker and unhealthy.
“Jeez, kid, you’re looking at me like I need a bag over my head or something.” Even Cold’s voice seemed tired. It’s all a dead giveaway and Barry wondered—
“Why did you even bother?” Barry couldn’t stop the concerned note that trickled into his tone. “You are allowed to take a night off, you know.”
Len had laughed and shook his head. “Gotta bring home the bacon somehow. Especially when you got a sick husband to take care of at home.”
Cold’s tone had been easy and nonchalant but Barry had caught the subtle change of inflection. A grin had flickered across his lips that Barry would’ve missed if he wasn’t standing so close to the man.
)))
Len is shrugging off his clothes as they walk. Shoes and socks had been left at the door, his parka hung diligently on a coat rack—coat rack—by the entrance. Len’s sweater had come off as they took the stairs and now his hands fell to the button and zipper of his jean. There’s nothing sexual in the movements, despite the nagging of his lizard brain in Barry’s mind.
He isn’t sure what to do with his own self: Len and Mick are well aware of his true identity, so it’s not the mask that poses an issue. Rather, it’s the fact that Barry is wearing nothing but heat-resistant, skin tight underwear underneath the Flash suit. Len’s hand is on the doorknob of what Barry assumes is his and Mick’s bedroom when Barry finds his voice.
“Snart?”
“Kid,” exasperation is clear in his tone, “I told you, if you’re gonna do this, call me Len.”
Barry nods in apology. “Right, Len, uh… I don’t have anything to wear.” And he certainly isn’t going to sleep in the suit, far too uncomfortable.
Len snickers but it’s not a harsh sound. “Alright, I probably have something you can borrow.” Len jerks his shoulder in a follow me gesture and he opens the door to the bedroom. Barry follows closer than before. He peeks around Len to see Mick, clad in boxers and a tank top, asleep on top of the covers. Len grips Barry by the elbow and pulls him to the other side of the room.
Barry can’t help but keep his eyes on Mick as Len digs out something for him to wear. Mick’s face is drawn together unpleasantly and his skin seems flushed. Barry gnaws on his lip with worry.
“He’s not contagious.” Len whispers. He stops and considers Barry for a moment. “Guess it wouldn’t matter to you if he was.” Len finally draws a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt from the depths of his dresser. “Here, you can change—”
Barry changes then and there with super speed. Len raises an eyebrow at him and if it weren’t for the painfully obvious exhaustion in the expression, Barry might think the look could be hungry. It’s a thought that isn’t really unappealing, only surprising.
)))
At the bank, Barry hadn’t explicitly asked what he could do to help. His shaking hands and frown, though, had given him away to the thief. “Yes, Scarlet, I’m a bit light on sleep, what’s it to you?” Len had asked as he turned back to the entrance. The alarms were still blaring but they seemed like dull background noise to Barry now, faced with this side of his supposed enemy.
“Why?”
Len shrugged. Barry didn’t press, knowing Cold couldn’t or wouldn’t say. Barry kept at Len’s heels but didn’t reach out to him. His concern must have been coming off in waves because as they reached Len’s motorcycle, he rounded on the kid. “You wanna know what’s finally gonna let me sleep alright?” Cold barked. His voice echoed through the empty city streets around them.
Barry could only nod.
Len’s stance, which had turned grandeur and broad, shrunk down again; he returned to having hunched shoulders and tired eyes. “You might.” Len had huffed under his breath, as though he expected Barry not to hear.
)))
Mick shifts in the bed as Len and Barry step closer. Barry stands at one side, unsure; Len moves to the side Mick is on and runs a surprisingly delicate hand across his forehead. “How are feeling, Mick?” Len asks softly. Mick shrugs but he shoots Len a weak smile.
Barry feels horribly out of place in the moment—it’s too intimate and too soft between two men he’s only known as sharp and rough. It makes him feel a little queasy to see such domesticity, and makes him feel worse when he thinks about being a third wheel.
“Mick, I’ve brought… a present.” Again, there’s that almost hungry look in Len’s eyes. Len motions him closer and Barry kneels on the bed before he can think about it. The bed probably, really, isn’t big enough to hold three grown men but they’re apparently going to try. “Can you say hi?” Len teases.
It earns him a flick on the arm from Mick, but the latter does sit up and finally look at Barry. “Oh.” Mick’s tone is quiet but his face doesn’t fall the way Barry half-expected it to.
“Uh, hi.” Barry waves and tries to ignore Len’s snort of laughter. He doesn’t know what to say despite a million things rushing through his mind.
Mick hums and settles back down. He inches just a bit closer to the edge of the bed and pats the space beside him. “Wanna lay down?” He asks in a gravelly tone.
Barry looks to Len. Len is already moving to stand behind Barry, obviously ready to take his own place on the bed. A chill runs down his spine at being in the middle of this… sandwich… but he doesn’t object. With carefully measured movements, Barry slips under the covers and presses himself close to Mick. Len takes up the last remaining piece of space, also under the covers.
With his chest pressed against Mick’s, Barry can feel the flush of the fever. He frowns and looks over his shoulder at Len. Len who has settled in easily and whose arms are wound around Barry’s waist.
“How long has he been like this?” Barry asks.
Len shrugs. “A few days. Just hits him especially hard.”
“M’right here.” Mick adds though his voice is muffled by the pillow his face is pressed against. “And m’fine.” He grunts. Mick raises a hand and throws it across Barry’s body until he’s pulling both Barry and Len closer.
Barry thinks he should feel too hot in between the two men, or maybe he should feel at least somewhat uncomfortable, but… he doesn’t. It’s still a bit odd to have Captain Cold’s breathing down his neck and to feel the scars on Heatwave’s skin against Barry’s own. It’s a weird situation undoubtedly, but it’s not bad.
“Scarlet,” Len snaps with a voice that’s hot but hits Barry’s ear with a chill. “I can hear you thinking. This is s’posed to benefit all of us.”
Barry nods. “Sorry.” He doesn’t elaborate on what he’s thinking about because he knows he doesn’t have to. They’ll probably—hopefully—talk about this in the morning but Barry can feel his eyes start to shut. Len moves closer and Barry doesn’t even jump when he feels lips on the back of his neck. Mick shuffles closer too, though there’s not really anywhere to go, and his legs tangle with Barry’s.
Barry can’t help the smile that graces his face as he drifts to sleep.