I Love The Things We Do (Me And You)

by prouvairablehulk

Summary:

And the reason he’s thrown for a loop? Well - that - that’s an issue all of it’s own. Barry’s perched - he’s been forced - he’s being -

He’s currently straddling Mick Rory’s lap and there’s really no other way he can think of it to make it any better, even in his head.

Notes:

ivyadrena asked:
For the short fic thing, ColdFlashWave, #7. (Fake Relationship)
Title from PVRIS's Smoke

Barry Allen honesty has no idea how he keeps ending up in situations like this. He’s a good man who only messes with the timeline occasionally and he knows that he does more good than harm, so why does the universe keep throwing him nasty curveballs that somehow drop out of the air, leaving him thrown for a loop and looking like an idiot.

Take right now, in which the curveball was mafioso metas and the drop out of the air was Barry getting caught in the middle as a CSI instead of as the Flash. And the reason he’s thrown for a loop? Well - that - that’s an issue all of it’s own. Barry’s perched - he’s been forced - he’s being -

He’s currently straddling Mick Rory’s lap and there’s really no other way he can think of it to make it any better, even in his head.

Rory and Snart had been at the organization’s headquarters when a couple of goons had dragged Barry in to see the head honcho, obviously in some kind of meeting. As soon as the goons had implied that Barry was sniffing a little too close to the kind of information that couldn’t get out, and the leader suggested that Barry should just conveniently disappear, Snart raised his voice.

“What have you got for me, Scarlet?” he asked, calm and measured as you please, as though Barry delivering him intel was something that happened regularly. Considering his next option is outing himself as the Flash to escape the situation, Barry elects to play along, fills Snart in on the identities he’s managed to confirm, outlines metahuman powers he’s spotted among the organization’s members, and prays he isn’t making a terrible mistake.

“He’s one of yours?” demands the head honcho dude, rising out of his chair in an attempt to look threatening. Even Barry wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking that you could intimidate Leonard Snart while Mick Rory was sitting next to him. While the leader attempts to pretend that he had made no such gesture, Mick slouches a little lower in his seat and spreads his sprawled legs a little wider.

“He’s one of ours, specifically.” purrs Snart, and Barry suddenly is struck by the notion that this is going down a route he was decidedly not expecting.

Snart shoots a sideways look at him, something like smug lust mixed with possessiveness and a hint of a challenge. Barry’s never been able to back down from a challenge, especially those laid by Snart, as it turns out.

“Is that what we’re calling it now, Lenny?” he says, and walks over towards where they’re sitting, as slow has he can bring himself to manage when he’s all-bar vibrating out of his skin. The corner of Snart’s mouth trips upward into a smirk, and suddenly the full implication of what Snart had said sinks in.

“Ours, specifically.”

Barry reaches Rory’s chair first, and Rory wraps one of those huge muscled arms around his waist and hauls him down, getting Barry situated on a wide strong thigh, before turning back to the meeting like nothing’s changed. Barry quivers at superhuman speed out of fear more than anything, and then he watches as Rory signs something quick and fleet to Snart with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Barry’s waist. Snart responds equally quickly, and Rory muffles a snort by pressing his face into Barry’s hair. Barry can feel the blush rising in his cheeks.

“There’s our Scarlet.” says Snart, voice low and flirtatious. The honcho shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, eyes dark, and Barry blushes harder. Rory shoots him a little grin, and tugs at his legs until he’s straddling Mick while facing him, and suddenly he has the ability to bury his face in Mick’s neck and pretend that nothing’s wrong.

Wait, when did Barry start calling him Mick?

Barry shifts a little, uncomfortable, and Mick lets out a little moan, something deep and quiet. It vibrates up through Barry’s legs, pulses through his chest, leaving nothing but peace in its wake. He moves again, just to see if he can’t get Mick to make that noise again. Distantly he hears Snart saying something to the Honcho, who responds in a voice that sounds as distracted as Barry feels.

“Then it’s a deal.” says Len. “We’ll be in touch. Come on, Mick, and bring our brilliant boy, will you?”

Something in Barry’s chest he didn’t even know lived there sits up and rolls over at Len’s words. And there he goes again, first-naming criminals. Mick shifts under Barry, and then stands up with his hand curled under Barry’s ass to aid in carrying him. Barry giggles for a reason he can’t place but he’s going to claim is trying to keep up the pretense, and wraps both legs around Mick’s waist. Its not until Len’s unlocked a car, Mick’s slid into the backseat with Barry, and they’ve driven about a block that Len suggests he could speed on out of the car whenever he felt like it. Ordinarily, he’d take the out, but there’s some questions he wants answered.

“Why did you help me?”

Len’s eyebrow goes up.

“Because we’re your nemeses. Not some terribly disorganized two-bit conman playacting at being a boss who can’t stay professional enough to notice I screwed him because of a very pretty picture.”

They stop at a red light and Len turns in his seat to look Barry in the eye.

“You’re our little hero, alright? No one else gets a bite. Now run, Barry, run.”

Barry looks at Len, glances sideways at Mick.

‘What if I don’t want to?” he asks, hesitantly. A frankly terrifying smile spreads across Rory’s face, and Len looks like the cat that got the cream.

The light changes, and Len swerves across a lane of traffic to make a left.

“Safehouse three?” asks Mick, but it’s not really a question. “You’ve got plans for our good boy, then.”

His big hands pull Barry in inexorably, tugging him back into the position he’d taken earlier, straddling Mick’s spread legs. Barry shudders at the phrasing, something whirling away in his stomach.

“I certainly do.” purrs Snart, and Barry shivers in anticipation.