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“Cold season got you down, kid?”
Barry paused on his way out of Jitters, glancing at the older man leaning against the side of the building. He sniffled and bowed over in a sneeze. “Shuddup, Cold.”
Len tilted his head. “Was that directed at me or your ailment?”
Barry groaned, sending him a glare. “Both.”
“I was under the impression the Scarlet Speedster didn’t get sick,” Len drawled, observing the younger man closely. The state of Central City’s superhero was pitiful. His nose was bright red, his eyes were glassy, his voice was raspy, and there were tissues spilling out of his pockets. Len couldn’t be sure if they were used or clean.
“I don’t,” Barry mumbled, bowing over in another sneeze before grabbing a tissue from his pocket and blowing his nose.
Len wrinkled his nose. “Really.”
Barry shoved his tissue back in his pocket, much to Len’s disgust, and sighed. “Okay, not usually.”
“Why the sudden change?” Len questioned. It really wasn't any of his business, but he was curious. If asked, he would say it was because he wanted to know the hero’s weaknesses. However, he was also a bit concerned about the kid’s welfare. Clearly he couldn't protect the city like this.
Barry cleared his throat, glancing around. “Can we not do this here?” He paused a moment, a violent cough wracking his body.
Len frowned, but nodded, turning to walk down the alleyway. “Fine. I have something that might help.”
Barry eyed the supervillain’s back warily, but eventually followed after him. He figured whatever Len had in mind couldn't possibly make him feel any worse.
~*~
He was wrong. He was very, very wrong.
“Oh, cool it on the theatrics, kid,” Len snapped. “It's not that bad.”
Barry looked up from his spot on Len’s couch, face contorted in disgust. “Are you trying to poison me?” He glanced down at the cup in his hands with disdain. “This tastes like death.”
“It's garlic, lemon, and honey,” Len justified in aggravation.
“Have you tried it?” Barry demanded stubbornly.
Len breathed evenly through his nose and snatched the cup from his hands, storming back into the kitchen while muttering something about spoiled superheroes and their damn super healing. When he came back about ten minutes later, he thrust the same mug into Barry’s hands.
Barry eyed it warily.
Len sighed. “It's ginger tea.”
Barry took a tentative sip. He took another. He relaxed back against the couch and took a longer sip, relishing in the soothing effect the hot liquid and honey had on his throat.
Len breathed out in relief and left the room again, leaving Barry alone to relax. He came back again with a clear container of some type of cream. Once Barry was finished with his tea, he nodded at Barry. “Take off your shirt.”
Barry’s eyes went wide. “Wh-what?”
Len rolled his eyes. “Chill, kid.” He held up the cream. “It's vapor rub.”
Barry nodded slowly and hesitantly pulled off his shirt, Len being respectful enough not to stare for too long. He handed the container to Barry, figuring he could handle this part on his own. While Barry was rubbing the salve on his chest, Len left the room again to grab a hot water bottle. He came back and nodded for Barry to lay back, handing it to him to put on his chest.
“Should help with phlegm and chest congestion,” Len explained lightly, taking a small step away, feeling a little lost. He wasn't used to taking care of anyone other than Lisa and he'd never imagined himself in this position. If anyone should be treating Barry’s ailments, it definitely shouldn't be his arch nemesis. He was sure Caitlin was much better suited for this; certainly she knew more about Barry’s body than Len did.
“Thanks,” Barry mumbled, gazing at Len through reddened and tired eyes. He managed a small smile. “How did you learn all this anyway?”
Len returned the smile, taking a seat in a chair. “My grandfather. He used to make this stuff all the time, whenever Lisa or I got sick.”
Barry’s smile warmed. “I don't think you've ever mentioned your grandfather to me before.”
Len frowned, mulling that over. “Never came up.” They fell into a short silence, both avoiding one another’s gaze. “You never answered my question.” At Barry’s questioning gaze, Len clarified, “You can't get sick. Why now?”
Barry swallowed hard, surprised that the pain in his throat had faded slightly, and relaxed into the couch cushions. He eyed the older man carefully, wondering how much he should say. He figured this time the man could be trusted. He was, after all, helping Barry. “Got whammied by a metahuman. One of the side effects is weakened powers. No super healing.”
Len raised his eyebrows. “Your speed?”
Barry nodded with a frown. “Normal. Or normal by your standards.”
Len sat back, digesting that bit of information. So, the Flash was without his powers. “How long will it last?”
Barry shrugged. “A few days, maybe? Caitlin ran a few tests and the effects are already starting to wear off...just not as fast as we’d like.”
“Clearly,” Len muttered with a roll of his eyes.
Barry eyed him warily. “You're not going to take advantage of the fact that I don't have my powers, are you?”
Len smirked. The kid knew him too well. He sat forward. “What could you do if I said I was?”
Barry thought about that. There really wasn't much he could do to stop Len and the Rogues from causing havoc in Central City while he was all out of sorts. He could threaten to get them back after he got his powers back...but who knew how long that would take?
Barry sank into the couch cushions and grumbled, “I'll make sure all of you get my cold.”
Len snorted. “How terrifying.”
“It would be if you knew how miserable I felt.”
Len observed Barry’s red and snotty nose, his heavy and wet breaths, his watery eyes and occasional hacking cough. It was nothing Len hadn't experienced before. The kid’s powers spoiled him. “I think I have some idea.”
Barry rolled his eyes and sank further into the couch, feeling himself relax for the first time in days. It wasn’t until the mixture of the warmth from the hot water bottle and the cold of the vapor rub on his chest made him shiver that he realized he was falling asleep.
He blinked his eyes open and glanced at Len, who had relaxed back in his chair, his head drooping forward and his eyes fluttering as he fought sleep. Barry felt bad. He hadn’t even considered the fact that Len might have been doing something when they ran into each other or that maybe Len didn’t have the energy to take care of a sick superhero. It was possible that Len had been at Jitters for a caffeine fix of his own and that Barry had kept him from getting coffee. Although, Barry couldn’t really imagine Len as someone who frequented coffee shops often. But everyone had to get their coffee somewhere, right?
Sighing, Barry leaned up on his elbows. “I can leave if you’re tired.”
Len startled and shook his head, glancing at him. “I’m fine.” Gripping the edges of his chair, he pushed himself to his feet and gathered a few folders off the coffee table. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you in an hour.”
Barry raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”
Len’s lips twitched, but he stifled his smile and shook his head. “Just to the kitchen.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t think I’d leave you alone so you could pry, did you?”
“I—“ Barry floundered.
Len snorted. “Go to sleep, Red.”
Barry eyed him before nodding and laying back down. He laid quietly while Len grabbed the quilt from the back of the chair and passed it to him. Barry raised his eyebrows.
“I don't keep the heat on,” Len explained.
Barry rolled his eyes. Why was he not surprised? He accepted the blanket. He wasn't cold, but he put it by his feet just in case. “Thanks, Snart.”
“Len,” the older man corrected, seemingly surprising himself. Instead of overthinking it, Len grabbed Barry’s empty cup and left the room with a grunted, “Sleep.”
~*~
Barry woke up in a fit of shivers, folding the quilt around himself and grimacing when he sat up. He opened his mouth to speak, but his breath caught in his throat and he collapsed into a fit of coughs. Barely refraining from whining, he yelled weakly, “Len? Len!”
“Relax, Red,” Len grumbled on his way into the living room. He stopped short at the sight of Barry, observing the way he curled in on himself, his shoulders slumped forward and his back curved. The blanket was pulled tightly around him, but it seemed to be doing nothing to stave off the chill, even as the sweat dripped from his forehead. Len sighed and came into the room, offering Barry a cup of soup. “Here, eat something. I’ll get another blanket.”
Barry accepted the cup and eyed Len, lips trembling. “Aren’t you cold?”
Len smiled briefly before shaking his head. “Don’t get cold often. Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s the fever making you shiver like that, not the cold. Regardless, I'll get you another blanket.”
“Wait,” Barry stopped him, glancing up with wide eyes. “I don't need another blanket. Would you just--”
The older man lifted an eyebrow. “Just what?”
Barry grimaced, bowing his head against a full-body tremor. His voice was quiet as he proposed, “Cuddle?”
Len crossed his arms. “Sorry, kid. I don't do touchy-feely.”
The younger man rolled his eyes, curling further in on himself. His body jerked and his hand flew over his mouth as he began to cough.
If the kid was trying to make him feel bad, it wasn't working. Although, this did feel oddly reminiscent of when Len used to take care of Lisa when she was sick. Len distinctly remembered a cold she had when she was twelve where she’d coughed so hard she sprained a rib.
He sighed and sat down beside the superhero, hesitantly wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The situation may remind him of Lisa, but this definitely wasn't Lisa. Barry fit very differently beneath his arm and against his side. Very differently, indeed.
Barry froze momentarily in surprise, but it only lasted until another fit of shivers overtook him. He groaned and pulled his legs onto the couch beside him, curling against Len’s chest and resting his head on the man’s collarbones. If he didn’t feel so miserable, he’d probably think twice about how awkward this was. He never would have imagined himself cuddling with Snart. Although, as the older man began to relax, Barry noticed that Len wasn’t such a bad cuddler. Actually, he was pretty comfortable, and he was running his thumb over Barry’s shoulder in a way that left Barry feeling sleepy all over again. Now, if Barry could only breathe properly and get rid of his headache, this moment might have even been considered nice. Instead, he was left huffing and coughing and spluttering as he slurped soup out of one of his enemy’s cups. What an interesting headline that would be.
“Sleep, Barry,” Len ordered softly once the younger man was finished with his soup. He ran a hand over the kid’s arm and took the cup from him, setting it on the coffee table before settling back down on the couch.
“‘Kay,” Barry muttered, snuggling closer.
Len closed his eyes and held his breath, his muscles tensing at the close proximity. He waited for Barry to settle before slowly breathing out, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to rub Barry’s arm. He hadn’t been this close with someone other than family before -- not even Mick dared to get this close to him...not like this. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting or the most uncomfortable situation he’d ever been in. It certainly wasn’t his ideal way to spend his night off.
He frowned, listening to Barry’s stuffy, even breaths as he fell back asleep. He sighed and reached for the remote, turning on Netflix, setting the TV to mute, and turning on the subtitles. He stared blearily at the words as they passed over the screen. He, himself, was feeling a bit exhausted. It might have been his day off, but he never truly had a day away from Mick or Lisa. Normally, at least one of them showed up on his doorstep, demanding something or another. This morning, it had been Lisa demanding he go to breakfast with her at her favorite joint in Keystone. He wouldn’t have minded if she hadn’t shown up at five o’clock in the morning.
Stifling a yawn, Len rested his head on the back of the couch and let his eyes fall closed. It wouldn’t be a big deal if he drifted off for a little while...right?
~*~
By the time Barry woke up the next morning, his headache was gone, his nose was clear, and his throat was no longer sore. Yawning, he sat up and stretched his arms out beside him with a groan. When he remembered where he’d fallen asleep, his eyes snapped open. Len was no longer beside him or anywhere in the room, for that matter. Hearing a sneeze come from the kitchen, he slowly got up to follow the sound, seeing more of the safehouse than he had before.
Len was in the kitchen, hovering over the stove, wearing a fluffy housecoat and brewing a pot of tea. Len’s bloodshot eyes drifted to him as he entered the kitchen and the older man grimaced, sniffling sharply.
Barry crossed his arms and smirked. “Your turn, huh?”
Len frowned, eyeing him before turning back to the whistling kettle. “You look better.”
Barry’s smirk slipped a little at the scratchiness of the man’s voice. It was, after all, his fault that the man was sick. Once Len had his tea, Barry shooed him away from the stove. “Okay, go rest. I’ll make you breakfast.”
Len eyed him warily. “You can cook?”
Barry rolled his eyes. “I’ve had to learn a few things now that I’m the Flash. Cooking is one of them.”
Len lifted his eyebrows at that, but didn’t comment as Barry forcibly pushed him from the room. He sniffed, throat throbbing when he swallowed down some tea. He grimaced. “Fine, but make something spicy or I won’t be able to taste it.”
“You got it,” Barry saluted, going to raid Len’s fridge. He glanced back to see Len staring at him and gestured for him to leave the room.
“You don’t have to do this,” Len croaked.
Barry snorted. “Yes, I do. You looked after me when I was sick, now I’m going to look after you. Now go rest while I make breakfast.”
Len gave him one last once-over before sighing grudgingly and heading into the living room to collapse on the couch, feeling like there was a knife stuck in his throat. He laid down and pouted. Damn speedsters and their stupid super healing and their inability to just wait until the cold was gone.
~*~
After breakfast and after Barry took a quick shower, Barry washed the dishes and grabbed the salve and hot water bottle Len had used on him, sticking some water in the microwave before bringing Len the salve. “Okay, shirt off.”
Len blinked open his eyes, squinting up at him. He cleared his throat a few times before croaking, “Come again?”
Barry held up the salve. “It’s your turn.”
Len snorted, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “No.”
Barry frowned. “Why not? It worked wonders--”
“‘M not taking my shirt off,” Len grumbled drowsily, throwing an arm over his face.
“But--”
“No.”
Barry sighed, shoulders drooping. “Fine,” he conceded, but set the salve down on the coffee table. “But I’m bringing you the hot water bottle and I’m making you more tea. Is the recipe still in the kitchen?”
“Mm,” Len hummed in the affirmative, listening to the kid’s fading footsteps. When he was gone, Len sighed and sat up, eyes moving from the salve on the table to the hallway. He listened to Barry rifle around in the cupboards for a moment before pulling off his shirt and grabbing the salve to apply it to his chest.
Barry came in sooner than expected, hot water bottle in hand, and stopped short in the door. “Uh--”
Len’s entire body tensed, his breath hitching in his throat and sending him into a coughing fit that scratched at his already sore throat. “Fuck, ow. Barry!”
But Barry was too distracted to notice, eyes moving across the scarred planes of Len’s chest, arms, and stomach. The marks varied in size and appearance -- some looked like burn marks while others looked more like bullet holes and knife slashes. The sight made Barry’s heart seize.
Len snatched his shirt up and slipped back into it, feeling like there was something heavy sitting atop his lungs, crushing them. Once he was back in his shirt, he got to his feet and glared at the hero, hands curling into fists.
Blinking out of his stupor, Barry immediately began apologizing. “L -- Len, I’m sorry! I just--” He held up the hot water bottle, which seemed so unimportant at the moment. “--I wanted to -- I just wanted to help -- to give you the hot water bottle. I didn’t know -- I’m sorry.”
Len clenched and unclenched his jaw, wishing he could appear more threatening than he probably did. He knew from when he looked in the mirror that morning that he looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose was red and runny, he kept sniffling, and he looked tired. And he was. So damn tired. It felt like no matter how much he slept, his body was just begging for him to lay back down and close his eyes. He definitely didn’t have the energy to fight with Barry.
Sighing, he shook his head and sat back down, holding out his hand. When Barry gave him an odd look, he nodded to the hot water bottle and Barry jumped forward to give it to him. He offered the kid a weak smile. “Thank you.”
Barry nodded, hearing the kettle whistle in the kitchen and jumping at the opportunity to get away.
Len watched him leave, sighing to himself and laying back down with the water bottle on his chest. Almost immediately, the mixture of the cool salve and the hot bottle made his skin erupt in goosebumps. He closed his eyes and let the mixture do its work to ease his chest congestion.
A few minutes later, Barry came back in with a cup of the honey, lemon, and garlic concoction Len had tried to give him (because Len was not a wimp). Len accepted the cup gratefully, taking a small sip and gazing up at Barry, who stood there awkwardly, fiddling with his hands. Len had never been much of a cuddler, but he had to admit that cuddling with the kid the day before had been...somewhat nice. Sighing, he set the cup down on the coffee table and scooted over on the couch.
“Do you need another blanket?” Barry asked quickly, noticing Len’s faint shiver.
Len quirked a small smile and shook his head. “I was actually thinking of...other methods to keep me warm.”
Barry’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising. “You -- you mean, cuddling?”
Len nodded, keeping an eye on Barry’s reaction.
Barry scratched at the back of his neck, face turning that pleasant shade of red that it always did when he was embarrassed or flustered. “O-okay.”
Len removed the hot water bottle from his chest and motioned for Barry to lay down next to him.
Barry hesitated before sitting down next to him. “Uh, so, are we--”
Len interrupted Barry’s question by pulling him down next to him, sidling close and resting his head on the kid’s chest. He could hear the kid’s heart rabbiting in his chest and hesitantly rested his arm over the kid’s stomach.
“Um--” Barry stuttered breathlessly.
“This okay, Scarlet?” Len questioned, not chancing a glance at his face, which he knew would be flushed and surprised.
“Uh, yeah,” Barry said, and Len felt his body shake a little when he nodded. The kid put his arm around Len and held him close. “This is fine.”
“Good,” Len stated softly, eyelids drooping. He could spare a few hours of sleep curled up next to Barry. After all, Barry had fallen asleep on him the previous night. It was only fair that he returned the favor...right?
Just before he dozed off completely, he felt Barry shift and a pair of lips press against the top of his head. He smiled to himself, despite the pressure in his chest, the pain in his throat, and his constantly running nose. For a few hours, he could pretend that this, that having having someone to hold him when he was sick, was normal.