Chapter Text
The first thing Leonard Snart knows: it’s cold. Like Dante’s Inferno ninth circle of hell cold. He knows this because, as of right now, his face is being shoved into the frozen ground by Barry Allen’s knee. And contrary to the name Captain Cold, he’s still susceptible to icy weather.
“Ge’ the fu’ offa me.” Len manages to grunt out. If Barry knees his cheek even harder, it’s going to leave a bruise- at least a worse one than what’s already coming. He’s got a split lip, too, the blood congealing on his chin in the cold weather.
Barry leans forward for a split second- and Len’s jaw protests under the extra weight- before he stands up. Len rolls over in relief onto his back to look up at him. Barry’s face is flushed, his hard breathing condensing into white clouds in front of his face.
That’s the second thing Leonard knows: Barry Allen is pissed at him.
“You almost killed that guard back there, Snart.” Barry snaps. He reaches up to pull back his cowl. His eyebrows are drawn together, hazel eyes glinting with barely controlled anger.
They’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snow and abandoned warehouses, without worries that anyone would see them. Barry had super-speed-dragged Len there from an art museum where he had been attempting to steal a priceless painting on his own. Barry had been upset enough to forget he had super speed for a moment, instead opting to lunge at Len and punch him in the face. And then Len was on the ground with Barry on top of him.
Len lets his head fall back, the snow and ice numbing his skin. “The guard was never in danger, Scarlet. He wasn’t even in the path of my gun.” He forces himself up onto his feet, wobbling for a second as the world around him spun. He quickly regains his composure, though, glaring in Barry’s direction.
“It was too close. If he had been just a foot to the left, he would be dead right now.” Barry’s fists clench and unclench, along with his jaw. “You’re better than this, Leonard.”
Somehow, this hits a nerve that Len wasn’t aware he had. Len stalks toward Barry, stopping a couple feet from him. “You don’t need to tell me who I am, Red.” His voice is pitched low and close to a growl.
Barry seems to deflate after a tense moment, his shoulders dropping and face smoothing over. “Right.” He says in a flat voice. He’s stopped looking at Len. He turns and starts to walk away from Len, boots sliding slightly on the hidden ice patches.
Len sighs quietly before turning away from the Scarlet Speedster to head in the opposite direction. He’s taken about ten steps when he hears a loud thump and a quiet yelp from behind him. Len turns around, spotting Barry sprawled out on the ground. Len doesn’t even think when he approaches Barry’s side. His long limbs are spread out in all directions, and his eyes are clenched shut.
“Don’t. Say. Anything.” Barry spits out, his face turning red from what Len believes is embarrassment. He groans softly. “I think I broke my hip.”
Len can’t hold back the amused smile that fights its way onto his face. He trains it into a smirk quickly. He nudges Barry in the side with the toe of his boot. “You heal fast. You’ll be fine.”
Barry opens his eyes, glaring up at Len. “Either help me up or stop making fun of me.”
A scoff escapes Len’s lips. He extends a hand out to Barry, who grasps it tightly and lets Len pull him back up. There’s snow stuck in his hair and down his back. Snow is still all over Len as well, but he’s too cold to feel it. It’s late, and he’s tired, and Barry is close. And suddenly Barry strikes him as attractive. He’s way prettier than Len can remember, with his hair sticking all over the place and face softened and deep hazel eyes and freckles and long neck and-
Fuck. Len definitely got knocked around harder than he thought, and now his head is messed up. Right, makes more sense than him actually being attracted to Barry Allen. To the Flash. That would be weird.
Len takes a few steps back from Barry. “I’m assuming you aren’t going to take me back to the museum, even after I graciously offered my hand to you.” That sounded vaguely sexually. Chill, Len, chill.
A tilt of the chin from Barry confirms Len’s statement. Seems like he’d be walking home. Len hums in response and pushes past Barry to start his trudge back to the closest hideout. The crunch of snow and ice underfoot is the only sound for a few seconds.
Then, Barry’s voice carries to his ears. “Hey, Cold?”
The crunching stops while Len pauses, not turning around. “Yeah, Red?”
A beat of silence.
“The Rogues aren’t the only people on your side. You… you have me, too.”
Len starts to turn around then, but a flash of lightning passes by him. And he’s left standing by himself in the freezing weather surrounded by empty warehouses.
And there’s the third thing Leonard knows: he’s royally screwed when it comes to Barry Allen.