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“Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside? (…)
The breath before the kiss, and the fear before the flames.
Have you ever felt this way?”
Glitter in the air – P!nk
His mother used to have a say, she’d always make sure to tell him. It was one of those dumb bullshits people liked to tell the others to create some sort of impact or whatever. Now, don’t get him wrong, Leonard Snart was all for saying stuff that would get other people thinking a second long enough for him to make a move, but his mother's words? Never rung a bell on him.
When it’s the right one you will know, she liked to say, never happy with whatever fling her son would have.
Leonard never believed her. In his worst days, he’d even confront her asking how she knew that his dad was the right one.
He just never bought that “right one” stuff.
Not until he saw her.
In the middle of a fight for his life, he saw her, and it all came at once (a rooftop, an ultimate, a bar brawl) (and gin on the floor, stolen booze, and you and me) (and one last kiss).
He knew.
And she knew as well.
With his cold gun pointed at her, and her batons ready to battle her way past him, they both stopped.
Her vibrant blue eyes hesitated for a second, and his eyes scanned the mass of fighters around them. It looked like they were in the middle of a Stallone movie turned into the Before trilogy just for them. Not enough time to do much more than just feel and end up empty inside.
He dropped his gun, and she breathed. And then he walked in her direction, held her wrist, and walked – ran – from there with her by his side walking – running – as well. Because.
They needed it.
He found what he was looking for not very far from where the fight was rolling: an empty, small house just for them to have a few minutes alone. A few minutes alone was all he needed.
“Leonard,” she said under her breath as soon as the door was closed, and he looked at her, really looked at her, and she gasped.
“Sara,” he said. It was such a relief. Oh, God, how much had he missed?
“I have so many questions,” she whispered, and he stepped closer. “How? Why?”
“I don’t know how,” he answered. “And I don’t know why. But I know you, and that’s the only thing I know, the only-“ He paused, and risked touching her cheek with his right hand, his fingers brushing her blonde hair, and his heart fluttered when she leaned against his palm like a cat. “-thing you’ve got to know, Sara.”
She looked heartbroken and beautiful, but he supposed that’s how she’d always looked.
“They will find me soon,” he whispered. They, who somehow put him in this stupid situation.
Still leaned against his hand, she nodded. Her hands held the front if his shirt and jacket.
“Lenny,” she breathed, and they were so, so close. “Come home.”
“Not yet,” it pained him to say. “I have things to do. But Sara.”
There were noises outside, and voices. Both their names were being called by different people.
Her hands went up to his face and the back of his neck, and she studied his face with dark pupils and fingertips, same way he studied her, weapons forgotten on the floor.
Time was running up.
He leaned down, and she held his shoulder and they collided – for that was what happened to them from the start, an inevitable collision – starving for each other, and the taste of each other, and the touch, and the you and me.
It was horrible, how their lips only ever met when they couldn’t be.
“Forget me not,” Sara said, when they parted, noses touching and lips swollen.
“Know this,” Leonard said, right thumb caressing her lower lip.
With no further warning, he retrieved his cold gun from the floor and left the house. His mother’s words echoing true in his head. Sara was the right one. And he would fight hell to go back to her. That was the truth.