Work Text:
It’s honestly still a blur, the two of them getting together. Something Len has every moment of memorized down to the very last detail, and that he simultaneously can only really remember in a haze of disbelief and delight. Honestly, it still freaks him out. Regardless of how, or why, Barry Allen somehow, miraculously, returned Len’s feelings. And now that he has him, that bright, sunny smile and that ever-present warmth all his own, he’s never letting go. Dating the Flash, he can say with certainty, is unlike any experience he’s ever had before. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of learning something new about Barry: uncovering a new mystery about the walking miracle that is his body, always thrumming with that same, addicting electricity, or even better, a piece of that golden heart of his.
Still, though—the body thing. He’d have to be insane not to be curious.
Within the first week of officially dating Barry Allen, following months and months of terrible flirting, he discovers that Barry’s powers have fascinating side-effects—some bad, but most good, and others just incredible.
The worst, Len found after sneaking into STAR Labs one night while Caitlin and Cisco had been power-napping, Barry’s prone form lying limp on a hospital bed, is that there’s nothing Len can do, nothing anyone can do, to help the pain, no painkillers on Earth or any other that his metabolism won’t immediately burn through.
On the flip side, at least he heals fast.
Less painful, but still unpleasant, not being able to feel the effects of alcohol has got to suck too. A shame, because Barry could really use something to let loose and forget about everything weighing down on him, if only for a little while. Also, Len's willing to bet he’d be a cute drunk.
And while the super-fast metabolism means Barry has to eat a whole hell of a lot, it’s probably one of Len’s favorite side effects of his powers—not because he enjoys it when Barry nearly passes out from hypoglycemia, but because he really likes making food for him. It’s entirely an excuse for Barry to frequently crash at his apartment, knowing Len will cook him a nice breakfast when he wakes up, and make something filling for dinner before he crashes. It’s sickening, Len thinks sometimes with no real regret, how…domestic he’s become, simply because of Barry’s presence in his home. And how much he likes it.
The speed also comes in handy for quick get-aways and stolen moments in between their busy schedules, and has helped them narrowly avoid being caught at least ten times at this point. Really, they should know better by now not to make out in STAR Labs with everyone still hanging around the building. Maybe one day, they won’t have to keep their relationship a secret anymore. That day certainly isn’t any time soon, he thinks.
There’s also the hyper-sensitivity and fuck, the vibrating—but really, that’s pretty self-explanatory. Even more so than the benefits those particularly aspects of his powers wield in the bedroom, there’s something about Barry’s over-sensitized skin, nerves, everything, that Len loves even more, that he’d discovered one day by accident, and hadn’t let him live down ever since.
He’s so fucking ticklish.
And God, Len could listen to him laugh for days, and never get tired.
Which is why his favorite part of knowing all of these little quirks and things about Barry, about knowing how goddamn sensitive his body is, is completely abusing that knowledge.
"What, no gun today?” Barry says, skidding to a stop not far from where Len is standing with a handful of rare and precious diamonds stuffed in his pockets in the middle of the jewelry store. “You're getting cocky, Cold."
"Oh, I have it, Flash." Len pats the side of his parka where his cold gun is hidden, safely tucked away. "Needed it to ice the cameras in this place. I just don't think I'll be needing it now."
"Like I said," Barry shakes his head, trying to sound disapproving, but Len can see the corner of his mouth twisting up, can hear the smile in his voice because he knows how to listen for it. "Cocky. If you're ego gets any bigger it'd probably explode."
Barry speeds up to him, so that they're just inches apart, and puts a finger to his lips, gesturing vaguely to the earpiece Len knows is hidden in his cowl. Ah. Dear Cisco and Caitlin must be listening in, then. No matter; they've done this dance before. Len nods in understanding, fighting hard to keep the affection out of his voice. "I think you're the one underestimating me, Scarlet. Don't need a gun to take you down."
"That so? I should confiscate it, just in case," Barry says with a grin and slips a hand under Len's parka, making a grab for the cold gun and...something else. Len rolls his eyes and let's him try, but as soon as Barry's fingers close around the gun (after a good amount of indulgent wandering at the front of Len's jeans), Len grabs Barry's wrist, and then the other, easily tackling him and pinning him to the floor as Barry works through his surprise. He's gotten too comfortable around Len, hadn't even bothered to access his speed. Well, Len will show him not to make the same mistake twice. He misses the challenge.
"Too slow, Scarlet," Len smirks, and Barry glares half-heartedly at him, but before he can open his mouth again Len starts to walk his fingers down Barry's arm, closer and closer to the spot at the crook of his elbow where Len knows he's particularly sensitive.
"Wha—Len—I mean Leonard—Snart—what are you doing—" Barry says, voice shaking with repressed laughter, already squirming underneath his touch like he knows exactly where Len is going with this.
"Come on, no, this is totally cheating, no, ah—cut it out!"
"I'm a villain, Barry," Len says after a particularly brutal tickle, grazing his fingers just enough pressure onto Barry's stomach where he knows he's most sensitive. "I think I can live with cheating if it means coming on top."
"Not—not just a-a villain," Barry gasps, apparently still determined to remind Len of the good in him, of the good he's done, while being tickled to death by the nefarious Captain Cold. Len would kiss that stubborn look off his face, if he wasn't already busy.
“Dude, is Captain Cold…tickling you?” Len is close enough to hear Cisco's voice filter through Barry's comms, and he has to bite back a laugh of his own at the image of Barry fumbling to explain this to his friends later.
“Cisco, I—haha, no, stop that—I gotta go—” Barry gasps for air, trying futilely to bat Len’s hands away, changing course to switch off his comms. And pulling off his cowl in the process, which—really, has he learned nothing? It gives Len even better access to the bare skin at the back of his neck where Barry is possibly most ticklish of all.
“Barry, wait—!“ Len can hear Cisco shout before his voice is abruptly cut off, and Len moves his fingers, from Barry’s stomach to his neck, leaning in close so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose.
“Risky move, Barry,” Len tuts, forcing back a smile when Barry lets out another anguished peal of laughter. This is serious business, after all. Can’t let himself go soft for the kid (as if he already hasn’t been for a long, long time now). “You’re little team is going to be worried, demand answers, you know. How are you possibly going to explain?” And keep you’re dignity intact, Len thinks but doesn’t say, but Barry gets the message clear enough.
He glares at Len just as Len’s fingers dance over another particularly sensitive spot behind his neck, pulling the cowl down to gain access to it, and then he closes his eyes with a defeated groan. “I h-hate you,” he tries to say around a gasp, his voice shaking with laughter, the light in his eyes when he opens them again telling a whole different story. “You’re—gah!—you’re the w-w-worst.”
Len hums noncommittally, finally giving up on holding back his smile at the sight of Barry rumpled and laughing beneath him, hair soft and messy, sticking out in all directions from being trapped underneath the cowl, eyes sparkling with mirth and a reluctant smile stretching across his face as he half-heartedly attempts to free himself from Len’s clutches.
Len supposes he's the one who gets too comfortable this time, because has he's reaching for the zipper on Barry's suit to slip his hands underneath the soft material (bare skin works best for maximum tickle effect, after all), he doesn't even notice the flicker of lightning in Barry's eyes until it's too late. Before Len can even blink, he's got them flipped, grinning at Len triumphantly and with a dangerous spark in his eyes.
"Two can play at this game, sweetheart," Barry says, and Len lays back and accepts his fate, knowing there's no escape now, not when Barry looks this determined. All things considered, it's not a bad way to go. At least he's with someone he loves—even if that someone is the one planning his demise.
Barry's hands dart all around him, he can feel them graze against his skin here and there, but he's definitely not trying to tickle Len, not by the way he runs his hands over the front of Len's jeans again, only this time Len's sure he's not looking for the cold gun.
Len feels something slip into his back pocket, squeeze his ass briefly because hey, why not apparently, and then move to the inside of coat, feeling around the inside pockets, and he vaguely registers what Barry is doing, but Barry's kissing maddeningly up his neck and to his jawline, and it's like trying to think through a haze of tortured pleasure. Needless to say, when Barry closes his taunting fingers around Len's stash and pulls them out of his pocket at super-speed before Len can really react, his mind is otherwise occupied. It takes him a while to even realize what's happened, wondering why Barry stopped, until he's blinking up at Barry grinning brightly at him waving a fistful of stolen diamonds in front of Len's face.
"I win."
Len briefly considers trying to make a grab for them, but then again Barry is obviously too fast, and the diamonds aren't really what Len came here for in the first place. Barry's playful laughter, his grinning face, his comfortable pressure like a blanket on top of Len as he drops the hand holding the diamonds to his side and resumes his slow, agonizing trail of kisses close to but still not touching Len's lips—that was really the whole point of getting him to come out here anyway, wasn't it?
"And here I thought heroes didn't play dirty."
"You started it," Barry huffs, nuzzling his nose against Leonard's cheek. "You're a bad influence you know," he adds, pressing a soft, teasing kiss at the corner of Len's mouth, and Len chases his lips as Barry pulls away again—close, but no cigar. "Bringing me down to your level."
"Barry," he all but growls, hungry for contact, pulling Barry back towards him and scowling at the smug look on his boyfriend's face when he dodges again.
"Hey, chill out," Barry says, finally, mercifully kissing Len full on the lips, pressing insistently against his mouth, soft and sweet and hungry in a way Len's come to recognize. He knows Barry's kisses. Knows what each of them entails. And this one, he thinks, as he parts his lips so that Barry can swipe his tongue against his bottom lip, this is one of his favorites. And he's so down for what it means.
"Come on," Barry murmurs, pulling away just enough to speak, but still close enough that his lip brush against Len's with every word. Distantly, Len hears the sound of police sirens approaching, but can't find it in himself to mind when Barry is pulling him to his feet, only letting go for half a second to put the handful of diamonds back in their proper cases before pulling him back towards his chest, closer in a way Len knows means he intends to speed them out before anyone can find them. "Your place?"
"Lead the way," Len says with a smirk, pulling Barry's cowl back over his head for him and then looping his arms tight around Barry's shoulders back as Barry scoops him up in his arms.
Barry beams at him, lightning flickering in his eyes, still just as fascinating up close as the first time Len saw it.
And if there's still a few diamonds hidden safely away inside of Len's gloves—well. Barry doesn't need to know.