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It was a normal morning.
Well, as normal as it could be considering Barry’s a superhero and his boyfriend is a criminal. The night before, Barry had been dragged through the street by a meta-human who could bind his wrists and ankles together, and this morning he had bruises that were still purple despite his ability to heal quickly. Like he said, it was a normal morning.
Len had insisted on being the one to make breakfast, but Barry had refused because he isn’t so fragile despite what everyone seems to think. So Barry began cooking breakfast while Len settled on the couch with a newspaper, not failing to give Barry a look whenever a hiss of pain slipped from his mouth. It’s strangely domestic in their otherwise hectic lifestyle, but these are small moments that Barry cherishes.
He’s humming away when his phone chimes beside Len on the couch.
“Can you pass me my phone?” asks Barry. He hasn’t forgotten he’s the Flash and can get it himself in less than a second, but he had a rough night and morning and he didn’t feel this was important enough to waste that much energy on, at least not until he’s eaten. And maybe he just wants an excuse to brush hands, but that’s beside the point.
“’Course,” says Len. He finishes the last sentence before he gets to his feet with the little device and crosses the room in a few strides. He presses the phone into Barry's hand before he leans over to kiss him on the cheek.
“Thanks, honey,” Barry says automatically, and Len's lips freeze on Barry's cheek. They're both still for a few seconds, with Len suspiciously quiet and Barry’s cheek heating with embarrassment. It had just slipped out of him, seeming so natural, but they had never been the kind of couple who were sickly lovey-dovey.
“I—ah...” Barry begins as Len pulls back to look at him. Barry expects raised eyebrows, a smirk, a chuckle, hell—even the threat to never use a word so sweet to describe him, but… Len merely presses a chaste kiss to his lips before settling back down with his paper.
“Barry, the bacon,” Len reminds him, and Barry jumps back into chef-mode, text message forgotten.
x
The second time it happens, it slips out during a heated argument.
It's something stupid, really—Barry wanted to go out and do something fun while Len wanted to lay low and stay inconspicuous, which is understandable, seeing as he’s one of CCPD’s most wanted…
But being the Flash has its annoying downfalls and that means he can’t be cooped up all day or it’s highly probable he’ll go insane. Maybe. Most likely.
“Barry, you’re being dramatic,” says Len in exasperation, crossing his arms. “Have you forgotten who I am to the police?”
“You’re Captain Cold, but I’m the Flash,” Barry argues, enunciating with wide arm gestures, “I need to run around, breathe in the air, feel the wind—!”
“So take a few laps outside,” suggests Len, jerking his chin at the door.
Barry doesn’t like his chances in this argument. Len always seems to win most of the time because there aren’t many places they can be together without running into someone who knows them. Truthfully, Barry loves Len’s apartment, but he can’t be here all the time. He wants to enjoy his time with Len out in the world, and that need is more intense than the repercussions that come with dating a wanted criminal.
So Barry whines, “Babe, come on,” before he realizes it, and then snaps his jaw shut. He wants to take it back, to just succumb to Len’s realistic thinking and settle for a night on the couch, but it’s too late. When Barry finally musters up the courage to look at Len in the eyes again, he doesn’t expect to see what he does.
There’s a strange expression on Len’s face, one Barry does not recognize save for the small hints of anger slowly melting away. Barry blinks at him, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
Len releases a tight sigh, his face becoming more and more relaxed. “Okay. We'll go ice skating.”
Barry positively beams.
x
The third time it happens, only Barry is to blame.
He wouldn't say he's clingy. No, he would say he has an average amount of need for his boyfriend, who, by the way, he hasn't seen in five days.
Five. Whole. Days.
Barry tried his best to busy himself with police work and Flash business, but even the criminals seem to need a few days off. Iris is busy planning her wedding, Cisco and Caitlin are in the process of upgrading the Flash suit, Joe is out fishing with Eddie—really, who does that except for dads and their future son-in-laws—and Barry doesn’t know what to do with himself.
He’s already stopped himself from reaching for his phone multiple times today. He’s been expecting a call back; Len was always sure to call and tell Barry he was okay especially if he was going to be gone for a couple days. It’s already been so long without hearing Len’s voice. His gut told him to call or text, but his brain knew it could be dangerous if it was a bad time. So sitting on the couch with the curtains drawn and a blanket around him, he waits.
His phone goes off in the late afternoon, effectively waking Barry up from his nap. He blinks at the television in front of him, playing some new cartoon he doesn’t recognize, before he grabs his phone.
“Len?” he croaks into the receiver.
“Barry,” Len greets, in that slightly breathy way that tells Barry he'd missed him.
“Took you long enough to call me,” accuses Barry lightly with a grin, sitting up. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Did everything go okay?”
“It... went as expected.”
Barry’s grin slips. Len had expected the deal to go badly. If anything, it should take a few more days for repairs and damage control. Barry’s bright mood deflates quickly. “Does that mean you're not coming home tonight?” He hates how broken he sounds, but he knows he has to ask it for his own sanity.
“Barry...”
“I miss you,” Barry breathes sadly, staring down at the coffee table. “I miss your face. Your voice. Your lips.”
There's a quiet sigh on the other end. “I know, Barry, but—”
“Please come home tonight, just for a little?” he begs. He's being selfish, he knows. After all, Len still has business to take care of, but damn it, it's been too long and he wants to see for himself that Len is okay and unharmed. He holds himself tighter, his voice dropping, desperate, “Please, baby? For me?”
Barry's heart thumps as he listens for Len's reply. He knows he's pushing it—god, he’s definitely pushing it, but he can’t pretend to be unaware of the effect the names have on Len.
“Be there in forty-two minutes,” Len says before the line dies.
Barry only has to wait thirty-eight before the door unlocks and he is barreling into awaiting arms.
x
Today, Cisco needs them both at S.T.A.R. Labs to test the new suit against the cold gun. Cisco was fairly confident in his ability to create a near-indestructible and fool-proof suit, while Len wasn’t as eager or willing to place any bets on Barry’s life or well-being.
They had just needed to make a quick stop at Saints & Sinners because Len needed to discuss something with one of his rogues, and Barry learned to stop asking questions a long time ago. Len had disappeared into one of the many back rooms—which astounds Barry to no end seeing how small the place looks on the outside—while Barry had a drink and watched the news on the little television behind the bar.
After a few stories, mostly interviews of people who claimed they met the Flash (which Barry will admit had boosted his ego quite a bit), he pulls out his phone to text Cisco that they didn’t forget about him, and that they’ll be there as soon as possible.
A hand settles over his wrist and pushes the phone out of Barry’s attention. Barry immediately recoils, his eyes snapping up to meet a man’s crooked grin.
Barry’s eyebrows furrow. “Um—excuse me?”
“Looking the way you do, you can be excused from just about anything,” the man slurs, tapping a finger on Barry’s knee.
Dear God, and Barry thought Len’s pick-up lines were bad.
The bartender clucks her tongue, shaking her head from down the bar. “Mm-mm, sweetie, you're barking up the wrong tree.”
“Shut it, lady,” the man growls before focusing his attention back to Barry. He drops a dirty hand onto Barry’s shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Now, what brings you here, doll face? Did you lose your way?”
Barry resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead swats the man’s hand off his shoulder. “It would be great if you could leave me alone. I'm waiting for someone.”
“Well, I’ve arrived.”
Barry snorts, muttering, “I actually think I’ll pass,” before turning back to his drink.
“Oh, come on,” the man continues, and boy, he cannot get a hint. “What’s it take for me to buy you a drink, huh?”
Barry doesn’t take his eyes off the small television behind the counter. “Oh, maybe a hundred-yard radius.”
Barry’s shoulder is suddenly shoved back so he’s forced to face the man again.
“You look at me when I’m talking to you,” the man snarls, his hand tightening on Barry's shoulder before he's suddenly ripped from the chair.
The entire room illuminates when the cold gun charges. Len has the man pinned against the wall with the cold gun pressed between the man’s wide eyes.
“Len!” Barry jumps to his feet immediately, his hands flailing a bit. “Hey!”
“Apologize,” Len orders the man, his voice eerily calm and steady.
“Tried t’ warn him,” says the bartender as she polishes a glass, watching the man splutter. The other customers around them pay no mind to Len or the giant gun out in the open, almost as if this is nothing out of the ordinary. Barry doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that.
“Len, it’s okay, really,” Barry insists, his heart racing.
“Going once,” Len drawls. He clicks the settings up by one. “Going twice…” Click.
The man squeals in fear before he chokes out, “S-sorry! Ah! ‘m sorry!”
“Look at him when you’re talking to him,” growls Len, pressing the gun harder into the man’s skin.
The man’s bulging eyes turn to Barry, his lips trembling. “I’m s-orry! I’m sorry!” He shrieks another apology when Len grabs him by the collar.
Barry needs to stop this. He can see the look on Len’s face, like he’s already come to terms with what he’s about to do. Barry can’t let that happen, not as the Flash, but most importantly, not as his boyfriend.
He presses himself close to Len, until his lips are mere inches from his ear.
"Hey, love?" he whispers, his hand folding around Len’s bicep. He feels Len shiver slightly. “Leave it, okay? We need to be at S.T.A.R. Labs, remember?"
“He disrespected you, Barry,” says Len through his teeth.
Barry nods, keeping his voice soft. “I know, love, I know. But he’s scared enough. Let’s go.”
Len's eyes still cut into the other man's, though his finger is loosening on the trigger. Barry rubs his thumb into Len’s skin until eventually he releases the man.
“If you come back to this bar, don’t expect to walk out with the same number of limbs,” Len says simply. The man whimpers before darting out the door. Barry releases the breath he’d been holding. That had been a close one.
Len shoves his gun back in its holster before throwing an arm around Barry to lead them out.
x
Barry figures they should talk about this—the whole pet name thing.
It’s obvious that Len likes it, but a part of Barry feels a little guilty for knowing that he does without him explicitly saying it. He doesn’t want Len to think he’s taking advantage of the fact. He just wants to put it out in the open so there’s no confusion about it.
“Len, can I ask you something?” asks Barry suddenly. They’re on the sofa, with Len outstretched and Barry tucked into his side. The documentary on Big Foot continues to play on the television, uninterrupted.
“No, I don’t think he’s real,” answers Len.
Barry blinks. “No, not that—but how dare you think that?” He chuckles and swats Len’s knee lightly before curling his hand there.
“What is it, then?”
Barry chews on his lip before pulling back slightly so he can look at Len fully. He feels a bit weird about it, but he knows he shouldn’t. It’s not even a big deal, right? He breathes deeply through his nose before releasing it slowly. “Baby?”
Len’s head snaps to Barry, his eyes flickering with surprise before something else settles deeper in them. His glacier eyes scan Barry’s before he presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “Yes?” he breathes, his expression so, so fond.
Barry wants to shy away from the intensity of Len’s gaze, but doesn’t. Instead, he trails a finger along Len’s strong jawline and asks, “You like it, right? When I use pet names?”
“Endearments, Barry,” he says, settling back a little.
“Okay, endearments, then,” Barry corrects with a nod. He reaches for Len’s hand when the other begins to look away.
Len stares at their joined hands, looking conflicted. “Yes, I like it,” he finally admits.
This is what Barry wanted to know. They could be done with it right now, just keep watching the documentary and go about their day, but there’s something about Len’s expression that has Barry asking, “Why?”
Len sighs softly. He opens and closes his mouth a little, seeming unsure how to begin, which is so strange to Barry. For once, the meticulous mastermind that is Leonard Snart is at a complete loss. Barry knows that Len isn’t exactly known for discussing his feelings all the time. He tends to keep it inside until Barry shows him that it’s okay to let it out, that it’s okay to open up and let someone in. It’s all Barry could ever ask for.
“It…” Len begins, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to find the right words. “It makes me feel like I’m worthy of your love… like you—” He sighs. “—love me enough for this kind of claim on me.”
And when Len looks at Barry like this—like Barry is simultaneously everything and the only thing that matters, like he is the light of Len’s world and the moon and stars in the night sky, like he’s the love of Len’s life—Barry can’t help but press a heated kiss to his lips, and another, and another, and another…
“I love you,” gasps Barry between kisses, his hand tightening around Len’s shirt front. He can feel the quickened thump of Len’s heart. “Of course I love you—how can I not? So much, Len, I love you so much… You deserve—everything…”
Len has long since surrendered to the barrage of kisses, stunned with relief and joy and only just then remembering how to kiss back.
The documentary on the television is forgotten as their bodies grow warmer and the pile of clothes thrown to the ground grows taller. They mostly fumble through it, with Barry breaking off a few times to laugh into Len’s skin, just unable to believe how he’s gotten to be so lucky. Len looks at him with lust and humor in his eyes, and Barry is about to release another giddy giggle, before his lips are otherwise occupied.
x
Barry makes a mental note to Google how to get stains out of sofas as he stares at the ceiling, appreciating the soreness he feels in his body. Len presses a kiss to his neck beside him.
“Think you can flash us to bed?”
Barry chuckles. In a little over a second, he’s wiped them both down and tucked them into their shared, king sized bed. Len lets out a content sigh as he pulls Barry closer, so he’s practically half on top of Len—just the way he likes it.
“Thanks, honey,” Len murmurs.
Barry buries his smile in Len’s shoulder.