#and here we have barry allen thinking about how much he fucked up that's rare

[nebulastarss]

World building the Catbatfam AU:

About Gotham: it's actually peaceful there. Yeah, all is casual, no need for costumed vigilantes. There's still a dark and dreary aesthetic, but is it truly GOTHam without the gargoyles and rain and darkness? It's just a normal city, no unusually high crime rate.

About the Rogues: honestly? They're either also cats or don't exist. With things being the way they are (peaceful Gotham, no vigilantes), some of the Rogues dont have their problems.

Examples:

Mr Freeze: Nora's illnesses don't work if she's a cat, and we can't have Victor going villain, so instead she has a rare illness, but beats it against the odds, and they live together happily. This works as both cats and humans

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The Joker (a potential side story in a series): he's a human, he's just a bitch with a bad sense of humor who doesn't like animals. He moved to Gotham thinking the smog would lower the amount of animals, but not only did he move in across from a (thriving?) Park, but also his last remaining relatives died, and all they left him was their fucking cat named Harleen, or Harley.

(They did that as they left everything else to their close friends. They hated him, so they didn't want him to sue for being forgotten in the will, and instead left him something they knew he'd hate. They figured he'd give Harley up within a week. The Joker has too much pride for that.)

He hates that cat. He refuses to get a litter box, so she very quickly has to learn to be an outdoor cat. Harley does not know how to outdoor cat. She is struggling.

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Ivy: a stray cat who's taken over the park outside of the Joker's house. She's got plant powers, always having plants threaded through her orange fur. She helps Harley, and their story ends with her kicking the Joker's ass. They become Gotham's resident cat-park lesbians. Honestly, she's living her best life. Harley is no longer struggling.

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Killer Croc: Waylon is a cat with a skin condition, he always seems to be covered in scabs. He was taken in by a lovely family.

I can't think of anything else, I don't really care for the rogue's backstories tbh

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The Wayne's (main plot): the owners are Martha and Thomas Wayne, and their cat Alfred. They refer to him as their friend, talk to him like a person, and eventually claim he's co-parenting their kitten Bruce. They got Alfred in college, and I'll post a drawing of him the second motivation hits. Until then you don't get to know his breed, it's a surprise. (I found out that the breed exists like. 10 minutes ago. Never heard of it before) from there, Bruce slowly collects his kittens and everyone lives happily ever after

Potential other families

The Kent's: lovely older couple bigs up a dog off the street. Who picks up a dog off the street (they're apparently related? Hello Kara.). And then another dog (who... he's also related too? Why do you have a son. Where did he come from. Whatever, his name is Kon) And then another dog, but at least he brings his wife this time. (Your wife's name is now Lois. Your newest son is now Jon. How many of these are we getting?) Etc etc for other superfamily members. They become those farmers with a whole clan of dogs who help out.

The Prince's: honestly I know jackshit about Diana. However I think she has a boyfriend? (Steve? Trevor? I dunno.) So he's a loser living alone with his badass cat. She could beat him in a fight and he knows it. He's pretty sure that she has more muscles than him. Also she's not like. Aging? Girl how old are you. Why do you look at me with such intelligence. I love you with my entire heart and would do anything for you but also you scare me. (I feel like he'd get her a talking button pad. She'd love it I think.) ("Is Diana otherworldly?" 🤷. If you ask her boy he'd say yes, but her vet would say no)

The Allen's: Barry is a bird. End of story, I shouldn't have to explain myself here. He is a bird, along with Wally and Bart.

J'onn: fish. He is a fish. To me. I dunno I'm working off of vibes here. M'gann is also a fish. Martians are fish.

(Picture me, desperately trying to remember the other members of the Justice League after having a busy day and 2 big meals. I'm so tired)

The Lanterns: there's canoically a rage cat. There's a cat with the red ring. They are cats. All of em, Hal, Guy, Kyle I think, there's probably more but I don't know em, all cats.

The Queens': genuinely I do not know this man. Well, no. I have like the opposite problem here as I do with Diana, as I know Diana's personality but I know nothing about her. I know Oliver's backstory, but I know nothing of him as a character. I can't accurately say anything about him. I think it would be funny to make him a cat because Bruce is a cat and these 2 parallel each other, but I'd rather make that decision based on him, not Bruce.

[fanficsandfluff]

The Snyder Cut: Headcanons (mostly of the tickly nature)

Bruce Wayne (Batman) ~ Batfleck, my love

He’s such a lover boy, and I can say that though I don’t exactly know how to explain what I mean. You just gotta understand.

He cares so strongly about EVERYONE. e v e r y o n e. Alfred, fucking loves the guy, jokes with him. The fucking “This is Alfred, I work for him.” MY MAN, STOP!

I think he just really wants to get along with everyone and wants everyone to get along in general.

But he lowkey crushes on Diana (at least in his mind, he’s keeping it lowkey, but we all see what’s happening)

I love the idea of this big hunk of a man getting soft with someone like Diana. 

She makes him genuinely laugh this one time by saying something funny, and then they’re both laughing together. 

Bruce definitely has one of those laughs where he throws his head back and shit and you can see his like Adam’s apple bobbing and everything.

But that’s if he’s really laughing.

And he has loud “HA”’s that are like really short but loud and then he kinda just snickers to himself for a while, holding his stomach.

And dude, the scene in freaking uhh… i think it’s BvS I’m not 100% (maybe i fucking imagined it who knows) where she like comes over to him and is fixing his wound….. tickle scenario hand picked from the gods right there

I can see a whole, “Woah!” from Bruce when Diana traces her fingers on some sensitive skin. And that Gal Godot smile is on her in an INSTANT. 

Bruce will laugh if he’s with the right person. Like I headcanon that if he’s being tickled, he will laugh if it’s done by Diana or Barry, then like he’ll be forced to laugh if it’s Clark bc he overpowers the poor bat, but then he just has these hilarious bouts of angry growls and chuckles if Arthur is going after him. 

I can’t even write about Batfleck being a ler because I will literally explode, so I’m done here 

(((((butseriouslyifanyonewantstotalklerbatfleckwithmehmuplz)))))

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) 

I know the GIF isn’t from ZSJL but just let me live, ok? (Also I couldn’t find the one of Gal wiggling her fingers YOU KNOW THE ONE I’M TALKING ABOUT)

First off, Gal is the most horrible queen of giggles. I’ve seen those blooper reels. My god, girl, how do you keep getting hired?

SHE HAS SUCH A BIG SMILE IT’S LIKE THE ROCK IDK HOW THEIR TEETH AND MOUTH GET SO WIDE LOOKING

Diana will start tickle fights without a doubt.

She’s already very trustful and I also feel pretty handsy with people, especially those she may feel close to. So if she’s playful, you best watch out.

Her favorite targets are Bruce and Barry. I will not take criticism. Diana attacking Barry and reducing him to panicky shrieky laughs is my #1 thought. It’s not even living rent free, I’m commissioning it to be there.

Diana is one to laugh with her victims. She will wreck them and have a great time doing so. 

She’ll be ticklish if she wants to be, but it isn’t often she gets pinned and tickled or anything like that.

The guys try to stay away from her or not go after her with tickles for fear of retaliation.

AQUAMAN, CYBORG, SUPERMAN, AND THE FLASH UNDER THE CUT

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

So…. my man isn’t really ticklish. I really don’t think he is, I feel like his Atlantean genes make his skin a special kind of hard, if that makes sense?

THAT BEING SAID ARTHUR IS THE BIGGEST LER OMGGG

He’ll try and act all cool and ‘whatever’ around the League cuz that’s kind of his persona.

But he slowly gets to like them more and more and his playful side starts to come out.

He’ll tickle Barry out of pure annoyance. Like if Barry makes any kind of comment, he’ll just point his finger out and get that glint in his eye and Barry is sprinting for the hills.

Here’s my favorite headcanon: Arthur will tickle Bruce because he knows it pisses him off when he does it. Bruce will fight back and keep Arthur in his sights at all time and curse and growl at him. And Arthur thinks it’s hilarious.

Arthur as a ler will taunt and tease until the cows come home

“Huh, big guy? What’s that? Ahawww that’s what I thought!... Not so fast/tough/etc. now!... I will wreck you.”

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Unfortunately… not ticklish. :(

But this boy has the sweetest laugh you will ever hear, and I will die on that hill. 

Now that he has friends (superpowered friends, no less), he can slowly come alive and be himself. 

I can see Victor not getting involved in tickle fights at first, but at a certain point he’ll be all like, “Okay, step aside so we can do this right” and just PIN THE SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER IS BEING TICKLED. His extra robot arms are killer!

Okay, when he laughs for the first time in front of the group, there’s that cliche moment of pause where everything stops and everyone just stares and listens to him. It’s so rare to hear him laugh because the poor kid barely even smiled around them in the beginning. 

He SMIRKS

Now hear me out on this…

Okay, so half a face. Great. Weird. We love it. But you can see all of mischievous Victor when the guy SMIRKS. You see his eye squint and you can swear his robot eye gets a gleam of a different color. 

Wait honestly as I was writing that, the thought of Victor’s eye and like his apparatus changing color based on his mood is golden.

Me sitting here, lowkey wishing Victor’s robot body had some kind of cuddly mode like Baymax lmfaoooo 

Like the defense mode his body went into when he was around resurrected Supes, but for cuddles and being cute.

Clark Kent (Superman)

I was debating even including any headcanons for Superman bc I don’t care about him much, honestly.

I am v happy they kept in the whole ‘him staring at Flash through the speed storm’ scene bc I laughed so hard at that the first time i saw Josstice League in the theater. 

Also I didn’t really like the black superman costume??? I’m not a comic buff, so I’m assuming that’s why. I am like the one person who missed the color from the Josstice League cut. Don’t miss the stupid red sky in the finale, but I miss every other ounce of color that was just SUCKED right out of the Snyder Cut.

Clark and Bruce are besties now, I don’t make the rules. Bruce bought the man his house back. By buying the bank. He’ll take care of him.

And I’ve always simped for those two ever since BvS, bc I’ve already written like two fics where they tickle each other. 

Clark overpowering Bruce to tickle the shit out of him makes me so happy lol. Big strong boy Batfleck looking thiccc over here… but put him against Superman and he’s donezo. Because as mentioned earlier, I do think Bruce is pretty ticklish. 

But Clark can have his lee side when he’s feeling nice

He’s got that mighty chuckle, almost like how Thor might laugh. 

And he really likes getting involved in tickle fights with the League. He knows all of them are sorta afraid of him on the daily anyway, but have that power added to a tickle fight and it’s fun as hell. 

He’s gotten taken down by them ONCE. And I mean exactly (1) O N C E.

They all teamed up. Bing, bang, boom. Pinned him to the floor and they each took an area of skin and fucking SQUEEZED AND WIGGLED. They were trying to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. And dangummit, he laughed a lot! Like Clark realized just how ticklish he could feel if he wanted to feel it. 

And don’t even get me started on Lois, he’s big on getting her to giggle and she likes toying with him and running her hands all over his body (bc who wouldn’t?)

Barry Allen (The Flash)

I waited to write about Barry last because I have so much to say about this character....

and then I fell asleep and waited until the next day to write anything down about him so now I’m totally not in the mood and I forgot all the salient points I was planning on making.

fuck you, michelle.

I got a weird relationship with this character. He was mad annoying in the Josstice League. Thank goodness they trimmed his bad jokes down.

But now....

when he got hurt at the end and he was like crying and shit oh my god I wanted to hug him

His character got so... good

And I’m now at the right age where I can think about myself in a relationship with this character with no changes or shame

We both out here trying to find that one good job after college and everything

BARRY JUST WANTS FRIENDS, GUYS

HE’S THAT CUTE

And then he got this whole found family schtick with the Justice League!!! Lookit him!!! Thriving!

He has total little brother energy

like, pesky little brother. Bothers everyone, looks over people’s shoulders while they’re deep in thought or concentrating on something.

Asks a lot of questions.

All the more reason for the gang to want to tickle the shit out of him.

Barry just reads like a super ticklish lee. Like his whole character.

Maybe touch starved because he said he needed friends, and I don’t think he has siblings??? (sorry if i’m wrong about that, comic fans)

I already named some of my fav headcanons about him getting tickled by like Diana and such, and I’m sticking with it.

Barry does flee. He runs away with super speed.... but sometimes he just kinda wants the tickles so he lets them have at him. 

The chase is all part of the fun with tickling Barry, though. That’s what makes it so entertaining. And Barry isn’t afraid to be a little shit about it either. He will super-speed around his pursuers and poke their sides and tickle them back really quickly before they even know what’s happening. 

Barry doesn’t exactly hold back his laughter lol. He’ll protest and scream and squirm like crazy, but once he’s actually tickled, he loses it.

Pure boy. With funny ass facial expressions.

And it really doesn’t help that I never realized just how hot Ezra Miller is, even though I heard he’s not a great person irl. Oh well.

THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

Please please let me know if y’all have things to add, to squee over, to question me about... please. anything. i’m here for you. thanks for reading, guys!

[slythraco]

Hi could you please do a Julian Albert x reader smut (if you do that) where he proposes to the reader and they end the night by making love? Or if you don’t do smut but it’s basically the same thing except they end the night by spending time with Team Flash? Thank you so much!

Author’s note: I’m so happy to receive my first request for Julian ! I’m too in love with this guy 😅 I just had a hard time writing the smutty part ‘cause it’s my first time writing one so don’t mind it if it’s bad I’m sorry !

Warnings: You might die of cuteness, ❗️smut ❗️, +18, swearing

Words count: 3,6K

Disclaimer: I excuse myself if there are some mistakes, English is not my mother tongue...don’t hesitate to point it out to me so i can improve ! :) (Also I was really lazy to re-read what I wrote 😂 it’s 3AM I want to go to sleep !)

Masterlist

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You look at you wrist to see the time on your watch, a happy sigh comes out of your mouth when you see the clock pointing 7PM. You were finally done with your work !

You quickly pick your stuff up, ready to go catch your lovely boyfriend in his office, you wave at your co-workers before heading out to the hallway that separate your office to Julian’s. Your surprised when you enter end realise that nobody is here, suspicious, Julian is always the last one to quit. You normally always have to wait an extra hour at his office before returning home together.

Barry wasn’t there too, but that is not surprising, he’s the first one to quit anyway.

You look around you to see if his stuff were still there, but no sign of Julian’s presence until your eyes catch a little note glued to his computer screen, you pick it up to read what it says. “I finished work early, I thought we could take advantage of this rare opportunity ! Meet me at OUR place !” You smiled a little, it all makes sense, you bit your lips, thinking about ‘your’ place.

Your place was a little hidden spot in Central City, this is where you kissed for the first time, it was so magical.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

Julian and you have been seeing each other for a while now. You weren’t together yet but there was no doubts you’ll end up together at some point, the flash team couldn’t stop teasing you two about it.

And tonight after a wild evening catching some metas with the team, Julian asked you out on a surprise date under the sharped eyes of your friends. “Oooooh ! This is getting serious here !” Barry teased to annoy his co-worker. “Shut it Allen !” Julian quickly respond his is British accent that couldn’t make you shiver in a matter of seconds.

You sneer at their bickering. “With pleasure Julian !” This time it was the whole crew who started teasing you two. “Oh come on !” You rolled your eyes as you get up. You grab Julian's hand and pull him towards the exit of the lab. “Come Julian, I can’t stand them anymore !”

“So do I !” He said, following you, leaving a Cisco shocked by your words before you disappear in Central City with Julian.

“Soooo...where are you taking me ?” You asked curiously as you gently squeeze his hand into yours. “To a place I discovered not long ago.” It directly piques your curiosity, you wanted to know more. “Oh ! Where is it ?”

“You’ll see.” He said with a teasing voice as he walks a little bit faster, impatient to show you this place.

After a little more then 10 minutes of walking and talking about everything and anything, you both finally arrived in a park, you’ve never been there before so you’re quite excited. “Come here.” Julian said in a whisper, pulling you with him trough a small path obstructed by a few branches and a small bushes. The leaves tickling your exposed skin under your skirt.

When you finally come out of the small path, your breath is taken away by the view, you could see all central city, in the night, the lights were making the city look like the stars in the sky. “Wow...” You whisper. Julian standing right beside you, smiles at your reaction. “I know right ?” He said, not looking at the view but looking right at you. You were far more interesting then the city at his eyes.

“It’s so beautiful !” You cheer, your eyes finally turning to Julian who was already staring at you which made your cheek glow red immediately. “It is...but it’s not as beautiful as you.” He tried to say the second part of his phrase lower for you to not hear it but it didn’t work. You instantly start blushing at this compliment. “Well...thank you for the compliment Julian !” You tease him, Julian suddenly blushes before looking at the floor, covered in shame. “I-...” he mumbled as you chuckle. You bit your lip, looking at him all shy now.

You decided to make the first move for once, so you turn towards him and walk until there’s only a few centimetres between the both of you. You carefully slide a hand on his cheek, making him look right into your eyes. “I return the compliment Julian” You simply said, that was enough for Julian to smile like a child as he takes all he courage to put his hands on your hips, drawing you against him to make this unbearable space between your two bodies disappear.

“Y/N...” He whispered as his eyes flicker between yours and your delicious looking lips. You didn’t need him to speak to understand was he was about to ask. “Do it...” You bit your lower lip again, it made him lose it, he couldn’t wait anymore. So he quickly took your head between his large hands and kissed with all the passion and love he had for you since your first met. You obviously responded to this kiss that you were waiting for so long.

This moment feels like ages, not that you mind it but you needed to breath so you pull away but keep the proximity by putting your forehead against his. “We'll hear about it tomorrow !” Julian said making you giggle as you passe your arms around his head. He was right, the next morning the flash team would have been pulling at you until you confessed to have kissed each other. It was the beginning of a rain of teasing until you and Julian ended up together.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

You stopped your car right in front of the park, you lower your sun visor to verify your face before getting out of the vehicle. You make your way in the park, walking towards the little hidden path but as soon as you arrive in front of it, you realise there’s little candles illuminating it. Your frown a bit, what did Julian prepared ? You ask yourself before crossing the path furrowed by candles. Once you get out of the bushes, you gaze catch directly your love’s one. You look at him head to toes, he was wear one of your favourite suit, standing there, in front of the magical looking city behind him, you already wanted to cry.

“What is this Julian ?” You asked curiously as you walk slowly towards him. “My darling...you’ve been by my side for more than two years now. Two years of putting up with me every day despite my almost constant bad mood.” He chuckles as he takes one step towards you. “In two years you learned me to much things, you push me to be a better person, you learned me how to be nice, to be nice, to be patient. You...you taught me how to love, you made me understand what love truly is. You know things about me that not even my own family knows, you saw at my best and at my worst but you never stopped loving me. And neither did I ever stopped loving you to, and I’m sure I will never be able to love someone else other then you. That why...”

He delicately takes your hand and turn it to have you palm facing the sky before searching something in the pocket of his suit. He finally put the little object in your hand, your free hand land immediately on your mouth as you start crying, realising what’s going on when you see the little engagement ring in your palm. Julian take your chin in between his fingers to plant his mesmerising blue gaze into yours. “Y/N...will you marry me ?” His voice crack a little, he couldn’t keep tears from railing on his cheeks either. “Yes !” You screamed. “Of course I want to marry you Julian !”

At the second he hears your response he quickly pull you into his arms and holds you tightly against his chest. “I love you so much” He whispers softly in your ear. Your arms slide around his neck, as your hand holds the ring tightly. “I love you too Julian, more than anything !” He pulls away just enough to catch your hand and pass the ring you were holding trough your finger.

You watch him closely while he was doing it, you were certainly the most happy person in the world right now, so was your now fiancé who quickly leaned to softly kiss your lips with all his love.

••• [+18] •••

“I want Caitlin and Iris as my bridesmaids !” You cheers, still holding Julian’s hand as you two reach the door of your appartement. “Don’t worry love, we have all our time to think about it.” He leaves your hand to put his on each of your cheeks before crashing his lips against yours once again, you couldn’t stop kissing each other since he proposed. It was like, you both couldn’t handle too much space between you, you had to be always in each other’s arms.

You slide your arms around his bust to hold him closer to you, you start to lose your mind when he quits your lips to kiss your jaw, until reaching your neck. Your breathing start to quicken as soon as he reach your weak spot. “Julian...we’re in the hallway.” You giggle when he pulls away from you, sighing. “Don’t you want to let all the neighbours know that you’re mine forever by making love to you right in here ?” He tease, looking directly in your house. Your widen as you listen to him, that’s one of the sound you were the only one to see. The shy, reserved Julian disappear to change into a teasing and devilish men. You didn’t liked it no...you loved it. It turns you on every fucking time.

“Yes, but I can do it form our room, don’t worry !” You wink at him, your eyes showed how hungry you were for him. You thought of you screaming his name loud enough for the neighbours to hear was the point of no return for Julian. He quickly get the keys out of his pocket and don’t waist any seconds to open the door fast. He then push the door, to let you enter first. “After you...” He said in a lower tin voice, remembering what he prepared for you.

You nod and enter your appartement but freeze when you see a trail of rose petals on the floor, leading towards your bedroom. ‘He really didn't do things by halves.’ You thought to yourself as you feel two arms running around waist and your back hitting his bust. “I thought we might have to celebrate our first night as a engaged couple, don’t you agree ?” Julian said in a whisper right behind your ear, you turn to face him, passing your arms around his neck. “I think it’s a great idea !” You whispered before leaning to his neck to put some heated kiss in the crook of it. You can feel Julian hands pressing your skin between his fingers underneath your kisses, making it hard to breath for him. “Y/N...” he whispers, trying to control himself to not take you right here, on the floor or against the wall right beside him and you.

You pull yourself away just enough to look in his blue eyes. “I want you Julian...right now.” You smile, knowing well what effect you have on him. Julian sigh before pushing the door behind him to shut it abruptly. You jump as you hear the loud of the door, and before you have the time to say anything, Julian was already attacking your shirt, unbuttoning it to reveal your beautiful bra, he smiles at the sight you offer him once he takes it away from you.

He bends down to kiss your chest, covering it with wet and hungry kisses. Your hand make her way to his sandy blond hair, holding them between your fingers. Julian groans at your gestures as his hand slide on your ass, massaging them before grabbing your thighs. “Jump.” He order and you obey him by jumping to help him raising you in the air. Your eyes meet and you both smile to each other before crushing your lips together into an hungry kiss while he leads you to your dorm.

He then delicately on the bed before getting up and family remove his vest. He goes to take off his tie but you interrupt him by quickly straightening up on the bed. “Hey ! What are you doing ?” You asked, Julian frowns for a second as you cross the bed, you sat right in front of him, at the end of the bed. You then grab his it and pull him close to you. “It’s my job !” You giggle teasingly as you slowly remove his tie, making him impatient. You then attack the button of his shirt, slowly revealing his warm skin. You put some kisses on his torso as you grab his belt, but he quickly catch your wrist to stop you. Your eyes meet his and his other veiny hand grabs suddenly you throat before he pushes you to lay you down the bed again. He then places himself above you, smiling because you were at his mercy.

He leaves your throat to places kisses on it, slowly but surely he started trailing down on your chest, then on your stomach as you move slightly because of the little tickle that it gave you. On his way, Julian unleash your bra, releasing your boobs in front of his eyes. As he throws your piece of lingerie somewhere in the room, his lips meets your right nipple causing you to moan instantly. He smirks when he hears you, crazy about the way he makes you feel. He takes your tit in his hand, rolling his tongue on his extremity.

He starts by delicately crashing little kisses on your womanhood, making you even more needy. He smiles, definitely knowing how to drive you crazy. “Julian...” you begged. He absolutely loved that, you begging him to give you what you want. He wanted to hear more, but he was way to caring of your satisfaction so he finally gives you what you want by running is tongue above you clit. You couldn’t retain loud groans to come out of your mouth, your hand grabs the sheets covering your bed.

Julian kept licking your sensitive spot as his hands find his pants, he quickly unbuckle his belt and push his pants to remove it and be ready for what will comes next. While Julian gently sucks your clit between his lips, he grabs your hand only to intertwine your fingers together and be able to feel the pressure your were previously putting on the sheets but on his hand now. “Julian I-I gonna...” you mumbled, out of breath because of the pleasure he was giving you.

Hearing you, Julian didn’t stop at all, on the contrary, he quicken his tongue movement before slipping a fingers into you, slowly going in and out of you. You other hand slide into his hair, you push slightly his head deeper in your intimacy. “Oh my god ! Don’t stop Ju...” You didn’t have the time to finish to pronounce his name that you came right in his mouth. He gently smile against your folds. He slowly raise his head to look at you as you try to catch your breath.

He slowly but surely rise above you, allowing you to calm down a bit after what just happened. Without leaving your hand he was still holding since he took it, he sticks his forehead against yours. You then deeply looked a each other eyes, your two bodies against each other’s. You could feel his erection through his boxer brushing against your area, you gently smile as your move your hips slightly o rubs your intimacy against his cock.

Julian sigh at your movements. “You want it huh ?” He asked hungrily. “So bad.” You whispered without stopping you hips. With that, Julian quickly pull on his boxer. Letting his length falling on your stomach hard as a rock. You start staring at it, which turns your fiancé even more. He tease you a little bit by gently rubbing it between your folds, smirking when he sees your impatient glaze. “I never thought you could be more impatient than me !” He chuckles with you as he puts your intertwined hands above your head before putting his lips on yours. At the same time he slowly finally lets himself entering you, making you moan against his delicious lips. He stay still for a few seconds for you tu adjust to his size when he’s fully into you.

Then he start to pump you slowly as he leaves your lips to kiss your neck instead. He bites your skin as he already speed up the pace. Your hand Lingers on his nape of the neck, at the birth of his birth on you pull slightly while moaning close to his ear. Driving him crazy. “Fuck...” he groan on your skin before pulling away to see your beautiful face under the pleasure you were receiving. You both look hungrily into each other eyes as your nails drove into the skin of his neck.

Feeling it make him pumped even harder into you, you were almost screaming his name but you tried to restrain yourself. Julian saw it, because he knows you more than you know yourself. “Don’t stop you from screaming Y/N...I thought you wanted the neighbours to hear you.” I tease you with a devilish smile on his face, to drive you even more crazy. His free hand slide on your body before hitting your heat, he then start rubbing your clit while pumping even harder in your folds. You back arc at the amount of pleasure this man was giving you, you wouldn’t last longer at this pace. Neither would Julian.

“Jul...Julian...stop i’m gonna...” Of course he won’t stop, it’s the last thing he wanted. “Me too Darling.” He whisper in your ear. Your were holding his hand so strongly, you thought you would break one of his bone as you felt your climax coming trough your body. “Oh my...Julian !” You didn’t stop yourself from screaming this time, you’re pretty sure the whole building heard you. You reach the orgasm, again and not long after, Julian fall on your brining body as you feel himself fill you with his boy juice.

You were both out of breath as you smiled looking at him, his head was still in your neck, you could feel his warm breath on your skin, creating goosebumps everywhere on your body. “I love you” He simply said, making you smile while he finally move to lay beside you. You don’t sit to put your head on his sweaty chest and you whispered at your turn. “I love you too Julian Albert.” You turn your head to look at him. He kisses your forehead gently after pushing an hair stems behind your ear. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you Y/N...” His hand grabs yours that was resting on his chest and inter-wide your fingers together. “Ooooh you don't know what you're getting into !” You said before giggling, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing”

He smiles at you while his free hand draw circle on your shoulders. “Sure you are ! You’re Julian Albert, I’m sure you analyse every possibility before proposing to me !” His guilty face says it all, you couldn’t help but start laughing. “See, that’s why I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you know me better than I know myself !” Your gaze meets his again before you place your lips on his into a chaste kiss. “I hope you didn’t put the possibility of me to say ‘No’ in the equation.” You tilt you head a little.

“I did, I did my calculations and came to the conclusion that there was a 12% chance that you would say no so I took my courage in both hands and proposed to you !” You roll your eyes listening to him. But you couldn’t help but find it sexy when he was talking about his maths “Well, I’m afraid you miscalculated sir.” You lean closer to him, brushing your nose against his. “There was exactly 0% of possibilities of me saying ‘no’ !”

His takes your chin between his fingers, looking at your face for a second, you were too dawn beautiful to his eyes. “That’s the only calculation I’m okay with being wrong.” He whispers before kissing you again, with all his love and passion. While your lips dance together to a soft rhythm, you grabs the blanket and put it over your two bodies.

You then finally pull apart and you rest your head on his chest again. “Good night, love.” He whispers as he put a kiss on your skull. “Good night...my fiancé.” You smile after saying those words, so do Julian, who was the happiest man on heart at this exact moment.

•••

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Gift-Giving - ao3 link

Fandom: Flash, DC's Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Barry Allen/Iris West/Leonard Snart; Barry Allen/Iris West; Barry Allen/Leonard Snart; Leonard Snart/Iris West

Summary: Leonard Snart shows up for Christmas to gift Iris and Barry with a warning.

Then he shows up again. And again. And again - and each time he brings a gift.

(And then, just when they decide to do something about it, things get complicated.)

A/N: For @sproutwings for the @dccwrarepairswap

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For Sandrine Shaw, who requested Iris/Len/Barry for the DC Rare Pair Swap

It starts, Iris is pretty sure, with Christmas.

Honestly, it probably started a hell of a lot earlier than that given the intense looks being thrown around that evening - thanks for not mentioning your ongoing flirtation with a supervillain earlier, Barry - but that's certainly when she first found out about it.

So, Christmas.

Snart breaks into their home (apparently to give them a warning, of all things), but his eyes are fixed on Barry from the start and suddenly Barry's pushing Snart up against the wall (is it wrong that she thinks that's hot? because it is super hot) and there's even more intense looks - you know what, she's just going to call it eye-fucking, because it is totally eye-fucking - and that's about when Iris decides to insert herself into the conversation and Snart's attention turns to her.

Which, hoo boy.

Somehow she didn't notice it until she had his full attention on her, but that man is fine.

They say some stuff - Iris honestly can't recall what, except she distinctly remembers she put her foot in her mouth at some point, but luckily Snart just looked amused - and next thing you know Snart's walking out of their lives.

"Okay," Barry says, running his hand through his hair. "We've got to warn -"

"It's not going to happen immediately, right?" Iris asks intently.

Barry blinks at her. "Uh, no. Not till tonight, but -"

"There's nothing we can do until we find them, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So theoretically you could just text Cisco and get him started on looking and go over in, hmm, thirty minutes or so, right?"

"Uh," Barry says. "Yeah, I could. But -"

"Good," Iris growls, and yanks him into the bedroom.

(It's mean of her, she knows it, they're not even officially together at that point but she and Barry have been hooking up here and there on the downlow since forever and damnit that was hot.)

"Okay," Barry says breathlessly when they're done. "It's good to know you think he's unbearably attractive, too."

"Oh yeah," Iris says. "Emphasis on unbearable." She sighs. "Too bad."

"I know, right?" Barry says wistfully.

Iris pats him on the shoulder. "You just keep up whatever you're doing and he'll be a good guy in no time. He warned us about this time, didn't he? And refused to join in with the bad guy plan?"

Barry looks cheered by that thought.

Of course, then he has to run to fight Weather Wizard and Trickster but yeah, whatever.

It's not like Snart's going to be anything more than the occasional extra zing to get them revved up.

In fact, Iris bets that they won't see him again for months.

It's a good thing no one is there when she thinks that, because she turns out to be epically wrong.

"Uh, Barry's not here right now," Iris says to Snart, who is typing away at her computer.

"I know," Snart says. "Off fighting - whatever it is this week, I take it?"

Iris opens her mouth to correct him, realizes she doesn't know what it is Barry's up to right now, and ends up shrugging.

"You ought to make a chart or something," Snart advises. "Keep track of 'em. There's got to be some repeats eventually, yeah?"

"There's only repeats when we don't beat them the first time," Iris says. She's bantering with him. Why is she bantering with him?

"Or when they break out of prison," Snart reminds her.

"Speaking of which," Iris says, "are you here to deliver another warning or something? Because I can give the message to Barry if you like."

And then he can leave.

Snart clicks his tongue instead. "For shame, Miss West," he says. "You can do much better than being Barry Allen's answering machine secretary - a charming image as that is."

"Snart," Iris says flatly. "If you don't have a good reason to be here, go away."

He turns away from the computer at last and flashes her a smirk that would totally give her shivers if she didn't know better, damnit body, stop shivering.

(She does know better, it's just that her body disagrees.)

He gets up. "I'll leave you be, then," he says. "Since my presence is so unwelcome."

He does make a point of brushing by Iris as he walks to the door, the slightest hint of strong shoulder and lean waist and clearly that's what confuses her enough to say, "I didn't say that..."

It earns her another smirk.

"Snart," Iris says, recovering herself just before he leaves. "Why did you come here?"

"Oh, you know," he says. "Just wanted to borrow your internet."

And then he's gone.

Jackass.

(But oh, such an unfairly pretty jackass.)

Obviously, Iris immediately goes to check the computer, where he hasn't even bothered to close the Internet tabs he was using. She'll check for all sorts of spyware and -

Huh.

Is that -?

Wait. That means the Fire Commissioner is -

With the Darbiniyans?!

Holy crap, if Iris can verify this, this is going to be the biggest story since the Flash. And better than that, it doesn't involve the Flash - that'll show her stupid editor that she can do more than just, quote, blog about him like some lovestruck fangirl, end quote -

She settles down in front of the computer and begins to work.

It doesn't actually occur to her until much later that maybe Leonard "your writing has a strong point of view" Snart left this for her as a gift.

"This is amazing, Barry," Iris gushes. "Oh my god, everything is so good."

"I know, right?" Barry says, slurping down some more noodles. "I'd just about given up hope of finding a decent Thai place ever since Siam Palace closed."

"I had given up," Iris says. "Where'd you hear of this one? I must've walked right by it a dozen times and never noticed it, it's such a hole in the wall."

She's expecting agreement, but what she gets is an awkward silence.

"Barry?"

"Uh," he says. "It's kinda an awkward story."

Iris' eyebrows go up. "Then I definitely want to hear it."

"Okay," Barry says. "So. Um. Snart broke into the house."

"I know," Iris says, a little confused. "I was there both times."

"Well," Barry says shiftily. "Let's say maybe it was more than two times..."

"Barry!" It isn't, necessarily, a disapproving exclamation; but really she'd like to be kept informed of these things.

"Just, like, twice more!" Barry protests. "The first time he just had some more information for me, that's all."

"And the second?"

"The second time, he was sitting at the dining room table chowing down some takeout Thai," Barry says. "I asked him why he was there, he wouldn't give me a straight answer -"

Several minutes of flirtatious banter, Iris translates.

"And then he just - left. Without explaining." Barry shrugs. "It was weird. But, well, he did leave the Thai food behind, and I'd just been out for a run, and it turned out to be amazing and there was a menu in the bag, so..."

Iris tries to hide a smirk. Of course.

"What?" Barry asks, suspicious.

"Has it ever occurred to you that that might have been his excessively convoluted way of tipping you off about the Thai place?" Iris asks.

It seems obvious to her, but Barry looks dumbstruck at the idea.

"But why would he do that?" Barry asks.

"I don't know," Iris says. "Why keep tipping you off about bad guys? Why leave me the lead for the story that's going to make my career? I don't know. Maybe he wants to be friends."

She thinks about how Snart looks at Barry.

She thinks about how Snart looks at her.

"...possibly more," she allows.

"More?" Barry asks. "But -" He flushes. "I mean. I'm taken. Wait. I am taken, right?"

"We're definitely dating," Iris confirms, hiding a smile. "But I don't think he's just interested in you."

"But...oh. Oh. Do you really think..?"

Iris shrugs. "No idea," she says. "It's just a shot in the dark."

"But, if he is..." Barry starts, then trails off.

"If he is?"

"I mean. What's our response? We're both taken, right? So we've got to let him down gently." Barry looks a bit disappointed at the thought. More than a bit. He looks positively wistful, and Iris knows perfectly well that it isn't because he'd rather be dating Snart than her. There's no one alive that Barry would rather be dating but her; that's one of the staples of her life. "Anyway, seems kind of weird to me. Why would anyone hit on a pair of people he knows are dating each other, anyway?"

"Barry," Iris says, putting her box of take-out aside. She's going to want to have her full attention on this conversation - one she's been meaning to have for a while, but couldn't quite figure out how to broach. She didn't want Barry to feel like he isn't enough for her or anything, after all. This, however, is as perfect a lead-up as she could've possibly hoped for.

Another gift from Snart, if he's smart enough to have figured this out.

He probably is.

"We need to talk," she adds.

"Yeah?" he asks, looking concerned. Those were the four scariest words in the English language to Barry, who preferred to avoid honest and open communication whenever possible. They'd have to work on that. "What about?"

"Nothing bad," Iris assures him. "Tell me, have you ever heard of polyamory...?"

Of course, right after they have that extremely promising conversation, they get word from Felicity that Snart and Rory have left Central City to go save the world via a time-traveling spaceship or something - she wasn't entirely sure, since she was working entirely off of a series of over-excited texts and photos from Ray Palmer, but that seemed like the gist of it.

"Great," Iris says. "You overshot it."

"When I said there was good in him, I meant I wanted to be the good in him," Barry whines. "Not that he should go save the world!"

"Not that you mind."

"No, not really. I'm really happy for him, actually, you know? He's finally realized he can be more than just a villain."

Iris smiles and shakes her head. "I wouldn't worry," she says. "He'll be back."

"How are you so sure?"

"Remember what my dad said about him? He comes by every few months and hits something in Central? And you yourself told me he refused point-blank to leave Central. This is his city, Barry. He'd sooner die than leave it for good."

They both leave that conversation reassured, but Iris has cause to regret her words soon enough.

"He's dead," Barry says dully, his head in her lap. "He sacrificed himself to save the world. Rory was - in pieces. I dunno. It was bad."

"I can't believe it," Iris says. She feels numb. Snart, so full of life and smirks and opportunity - dead?

Surely not.

And yet, it seems like it's true.

Iris goes out and catches Rory before he goes back with the Legends.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out.

He pauses and stares at her.

"About Snart," she says.

"He did a stupid thing," Rory says. His voice is gruff and his eyes are distant. His hands tremor. "His choice, I guess."

"So what if it was? It still sucks balls," Iris says.

Her crudeness makes it through where her sympathy didn't, earning a bark of surprise from him.

"Well, lookit you," he says, the corners of his mouth turning up, just a bit. "Got some spirit in you after all. Guess Snart really was onto something when he set out to land you and your boy."

Iris freezes. She'd hoped, of course, and Barry had as well, but... "He really was interested?"

Rory nods. "Definitely," he says. "Half the reason he signed up for this whole pile of crap."

Iris frowns at him, noticing how he still looked terrible: bags under his eyes, skinnier, smelling of beer even so early in the morning.

"If you're not doing well on the Legends, you can always come to us," she tells him. "Team Flash would be more than happy to have you."

Rory looks surprised again. "Thanks," he finally says. "I'll keep that in mind."

And then he goes.

She goes home - Barry's in the office, finishing all the work he put aside for the alien thing - and, in a fit of nostalgia, orders Thai.

She's halfway through her favorite curry when someone says, "Damn, I love that place."

Iris jumps halfway out of her skin and twists to look at -

Snart.

Snart?!

"What are you doing here?!" she yelps.

He shrugs. "Never could resist good Thai." A smirk. "Particularly good Thai and a beautiful woman."

Iris shakes her head to clear it. "Stop flirting for literally one minute, will you? I thought you were dead. They said you died destroying that Oculus thing - Rory thinks you're dead! He's mourning you!"

Snart scowls. "Yeah, I know. Can't seem to get a hold of him to tell him to knock it off."

Iris mouths the words 'knock it off' to herself in utter disbelief.

"It was a nice thing you did for him, though, inviting him here," Snart adds. "You should get him to follow through on that. Then maybe I could talk to him..."

"Is there any reason you haven't talked to him already?" Iris demands. "He deserves to know!"

"Know what?"

"That you're not dead and gone, maybe?!"

Snart smirks. "Sorry to be the one to tell you, Miss West," he drawls. "But you're only half right there."

Iris is trying to figure out what he means when he reaches forward, aiming for the box of rice, and his hand goes right through it.

Iris stares.

"I am dead," Snart says. "Just - not quite gone."

It turns out that Snart has issues being seen by people affected by temporal radiation, which means all the Legends.

And, most annoyingly, Barry.

She says 'most annoyingly' because Barry is an extremely bad liar about it.

"So Snart is a ghost, but I can't see him. I think I get it," Barry says, fixed smile on his face. "That's - interesting."

"He doesn't believe you," Snart observes, hovering over Barry's shoulder.

"No shit," Iris says.

"Are you talking with the - yes, yes, of course you are," Barry says, shaking his head. "You're talking to the 'ghost'."

"Ouch," Snart says. "I could hear the quotation marks on that one. Be careful of any invitations to STAR Labs; they're not very good with respecting autonomy there."

Iris resists the urge to flip Snart off. Or the clearly disbelieving Barry, who obviously thinks she hasn't noticed him furiously whispering on the phone with Caitlin about metas capable of causing hallucinations or psychosis - she is not being affected by the Rainbow Raider, for fuck's sake. His powers don't even work that way!

"We could play the 'put a number behind your back' game," Snart offers, clearly vastly amused by this. She'd hold it against him if he wasn't so damn attractive when he was being a condescending asshole.

...does Iris have a type? Even Eddie ended up lying to her face and ignoring her ability to make her own decisions by the end of it.

Iris might have a type.

Damnit.

"Never mind, Barry," she says. "Just - forget about it."

She'll just deal with this Snart ghost thing herself.

Of course, Barry doesn't forget about it just like that, but the next meta situation ends up cropping up its ugly head and Barry gets distracted.

Snart is, too, at first, but then he hears about the type of meta powers involved and promptly loses his interest.

That, or else he's just decided it's more fun to drive Iris insane by hovering behind her and commenting on her latest article.

The worst part is, she's having a great time arguing with him about it, too. It'd be one thing he if he was bugging her about stupid nits like grammar or spelling (that's what first drafts and proof-readers are /for, damnit Barry), but it's not.

He's smart and articulate; he asks good, sharp, pointed questions about the content and approach and structure; he seems really interested in the murky underpinnings necessary to make a great article rather than an acceptable one, he actually cares about Central City politics in a way Barry never has...

It takes her about a week of sneaking around Barry to write her articles before she has the horrifying realization that she might be having a bit of an emotional affair with a ghost.

She also makes the mistake of having that realization out loud.

Snart laughs so hard she'd be worried about him dying if he wasn't already dead.

"Shut up," she grumbles, but doesn't really mean it. She never got to see Snart laugh in life.

"No," Snart says, wiping his eyes despite the fact that they're still dry. Some symptom of death, maybe? "No, it's good. I'm glad to know that I would've scored eventually. At least with you, anyway."

Iris hesitates. They'd never discussed...

"Were you?" she asks.

"Was I what?"

"Hitting on both of us?"

"Oh, definitely. In equal measure," Snart agrees. "Barry was first, of course, but then I started reading your body of work -"

He would be attracted to someone because of that. Snart's no intellectual, but damn if the man didn't appreciate narrative.

"- and, well, I had to meet you. And what happens? Turns out your body of work ain't the only fascinating body you've got."

"Oooh, good one. That one was smooth."

"Wasn't it?" Snart says, looking pleased.

Iris hides a laugh. "Tell me, what was it about Barry that attracted you first?"

"Barry? Why?"

"Just wondering." She has a hunch.

Snart frowns at her. "Well, his ass looks great in that suit?"

"I mean, I agree," Iris says. "Ten out of ten. But I'd be willing to put money down that you noticed that after he started punning back at you."

"I do like wordplay," Snart allows.

"Somehow I noticed, what with all the cold jokes."

"A good pun's as good as cold."

"You mean good as gold - oh. Shut up."

"Make me," Snart taunts.

Oh, he's getting comfortable, is he?

Snart might be familiar with Iris West's wit via her work, but he hasn't met the irrepressibly competitive half of her, winner of the West Family (plus Barry) prank competition for twelve unbroken years.

"If you were alive," Iris says sweetly, "I would probably jump you now."

Snart chokes.

"There," she says. "Shut you up, didn't I?"

Snart blinks owlishly at her, then grins. "Good one."

"Oh, no, I was serious," she says, making him stare at her. "Sorry, am I moving too fast for you?"

Snart is laughing again.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'm sure I can put a freeze on things."

"I know you're fond of cold puns, but there is some benefit to letting things get more heated."

"Really? That's news to me."

Now Iris is laughing, too. "Well, lucky me," she manages to say with almost a straight face. Almost. "I'm very good at covering the news..."

Nope, that's it, she's lost it.

"Yeah," Snart drawls. "I've noticed how good you are at covering the Flash - very impressive length and breadth of coverage there -"

Iris is howling with laughter, even as the thought of a ghostly Snart watching her and Barry (not that they've had time to do anything this past week) starts a nice warm glow in her belly.

"But what do I know, anyway? I'm not a professional news spooks-man."

Nope, back to pure laughter.

"Snart," Iris manages to get out. "That last joke was positively vile. Juven-vile, even."

"Oh, I like that one!" Snart exclaims. "That one's new."

"Not 'news'?"

"Miss West, I'll have you know that I never recycle a joke," Snart starts, and Iris knows where this is going. "After all, that would be -"

"Old news," they both chorus.

And after that neither of them can talk for laughing for a good long while.

"Uh, Iris?"

"Yeah, Bar?" Iris says, a little distracted. Snart was disappearing more often to go wander through "his" city - his words - and every once in a while he brings back fascinating little tidbits that she fully intends to use to conquer the CCPN newsroom.

Just a blogger, her ass.

"I, uh - I think I need to apologize."

That gets Iris' attention.

She spins her chair away from her home office set up to look at Barry, who's hovering in the doorway and looking very abashed.

"Apologize for what?" she asks, automatically searching her memory for anything that might be - different. Not that she'd notice, of course, if she'd been affected by the timeline change... "What happened, and can we fix it?"

"I love that that's your first question," Barry says wryly. "But no, everything's fine. I was just a judgy dick and I didn't believe you when, uh, there's been some reason to think I should have."

"You should always listen to me," Iris says automatically.

"Even when you demand a fourth helping of dumplings?"

"Especially then. I'll regret it later like a big girl. What didn't you believe me about?"

"The, uh...ghost. Snart's ghost."

Iris straightens up. "You saw him?"

"He pushed me out of the way of an anti-meta beam that the army base around town developed," Barry says.

"He pushed...?"

"I was running," Barry clarifies. "Speed Force at full blast, and suddenly there he was."

Weird, but Iris will take it. "And he managed to push you? While you were going that fast?"

"...he'd stuck his foot out and I was so shocked at seeing him that I tripped over it. But the end result was that I went right under the anti-meta beam, so it was obviously part of his plan! He's sneaky like that."

Iris thinks about Snart as she's gotten to know him these last few weeks. "Yeah, fair," she says. "He really is."

"Is he here right now?"

"No, out and about," Iris says. "Checking up on, quote, 'things'."

"Things? Really?"

"Apparently, I'm to learn to love the definition of 'plausible deniability'," Iris says dryly. "How someone incorporeal and invisible to the vast majority of the population can cause as much trouble as he's always implying he is, I don't even know, but I'm not putting anything past him, dead or not."

"Probably a good idea," Barry says, and he's starting to smile now. "So he's - he's really back? He's here? Not now, but - most of the time?"

"Yeah," Iris says, grinning helplessly. Barry's joy is always so infectious. "Yeah, he's back. Maybe not the way we'd like, but - ghost is better than nothing, right?"

"Yeah, definitely!" Barry looks wistful. "Wish I could talk to him."

"I'll get us an Ouija board," Iris says. "Not that it'll help, him being incorporeal and unable to touch things and all..."

"Even if he wasn't, using Scrabble letters is more effective," Barry objects. "Or fridge magnets."

"Barry Allen, tell me you're not still scared of Ouija board after all these years!"

"It was scary!"

"It was a bunch of guys in sheets sneaking around!"

"Hey, I was ten!"

"Yeah, exactly! It was fifteen years ago!"

"I have trauma," Barry sniffs, but he's still grinning. "Lots of trauma." His grin widens. "Maybe I need some TLC to help me get over it."

Iris snorts. Oh, Barry. "Yeah, speaking of which," she says, suddenly grinning herself. "What do you say to asking Snart if he'd like to spectate a bit of that TLC?"

Barry opens his mouth.

Then his brain finishes processing what she said and he freezes.

Fastest man alive, yeah. Including in the ability for his blood to rush south, Iris bets.

"Just think about it," she says. "You can't see him, but you know he's watching. Watching me take you apart, piece by piece - making comments and suggestions that only I can hear - and you can only imagine..."

Judging by the look on Barry's face, he approves of that plan. A lot.

(Once he gets over the need to make puns about a spectating specter, Snart approves, too.)

Iris spends a surprising amount of her time writing letters now.

Well, emails, not letters, but the concept is the same. Snart has a lot of things he wants to say to a lot of people, and apparently most people aren't the perfect level of time radiation (indirect exposure from being with Barry) that she is, and that means email.

Most of the emails are to Rory and Lisa Snart, so heavily couched in in-jokes that it's practically some sort of code that they're practically unreadable - Rory made a deliberate detour to visit after the third one, his eyes alight with desperate hope that Iris manages to satisfy by translating Snart directly, complete with attempts to replicate his ridiculous body language, while Lisa sticks to increasingly angry emails about what the fuck "Lenny" was thinking when he went on the Legends trip to begin with - but some of them are to...other people. About other things.

"Snart, tell me true," Iris says. "You'd let me know if I was running a crime empire for you, right?"

"Tell SS that he'll thank me for the extra room down the line," Snart instructs instead of answering. "Say, hmm, say RD and LS would be too explosive."

"Snart..."

"Oh, and tell HR that his idea is stupid, but if he wants to spend a year in Iron Heights, he's welcome to go it solo."

"Snart!"

"You really would be happier with the plausible deniability."

"I would not. I'm a journalist, I like knowing things. Tell me!"

"It's not a crime empire," Snart says soothingly. "Just a small - side project."

"Side project. Snart, in case you've forgotten, you're dead."

"Dead but not forgotten," Snart says cheerfully, but she can see the wistfulness in his eyes. "A man's got to have a legacy, even if I can't personally participate in it."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Snart admits. "Say, if you had to pick a supervillain name, what would it be?"

"I don't think I trust that segue."

"That's because you're smart. Well?"

Iris rolls her eyes. "It depends on what type of supervillain I am, obviously. Do I have a power set? A theme weapon?"

"Think more 'organizer of other supervillains'," Snart says.

"That's what I was worried about," Iris mutters. Snart might've had a point regarding being happier with plausible deniability. "Why are you setting up supervillains, anyway? Aren't you dating Barry now?"

"Of course," Snart says. "But that's why I'm doing it."

Iris looks at him.

Snart looks - unusually serious, actually. "One thing I know about criminals, and we can all agree that I'm something of an expert there, is that they both love and hate structure. They can't fit into society's structure or else they'll be legal thieves -"

"Legal thieves?"

"Government, police, corporations, lawyers, insurance companies..."

"...fair. Go on."

"Being left out of - or not feeling like you fit in to - society is what drives people to crime, most of the time," Snart explains. "Whether they know it or not. But that means most of 'em want to fit in somewhere. That's why you've got the Families, gangs, criminal-focused bars -"

"You worked solo."

"I worked with Mick," Snart corrects. "We made our own society, the two of us."

"Codependent," Iris coughs into her palm.

Snart rolls his eyes at her. "We convinced Mick not to move in with you, didn't we?"

"Only because you're incorporeal."

"Well, that doesn't seem like to change, does it? And if it does, you'd be better off having him around anyway; he's a great chef."

"We are not - hm. Great chef?"

"Amazing."

"I'll...keep that in mind. Anyway, we're getting off track. What's all this - fascinating pseudo-psychological analysis as it is - have to do with starting a supervillain squad?"

"It's got to do with it because having a squad means people will want to join it," Snart says. "Before they do anything really big. And if you're running the squad, then..."

"Then I can either work with it to make it less dangerous, or, even if I just refuse to be involved, I have advance notice of it," Iris says, getting it. "Giving Barry a head start."

"Exactly," Snart says.

"Snart, has anyone told you that you're dangerously good at gift-giving?"

Snart grins at her. "You haven't even put together the fact that being a player in the Central City underworld, even indirectly, will get you access to all the stories your black little heart desires - and all the excitement you could possibly want in chasing them."

Not to mention the respect that is in somewhat short supply at CCPN...

Damn, but Snart is good at gifts.

"Okay, fine, fine," Iris says. "I'm in already. What's the next step?"

"The next step, I think, is for you to meet one of Central City's finest fences. She's trying to start up her own metahuman-related organization - mostly smuggling, not theft, because we all fall back on what we're best at when we try something new - so we either get on her good side and become allies or we don't and become rivals, but either way it'll be good to know what we are on the ground floor."

Iris feels a frisson of excitement run up her spine. What can she say, she loves the adrenaline of going after something dangerous.

"What's her name?" Iris asks.

Snart smirks and runs an invisible hand over Iris' hair, fondness in every line of him. She wishes she could feel it the way Barry sometimes can when he's using the Speed Force.

"Amunet," he says. "Her name is Amunet. The Blacksmith."

"Oh, damn," Iris says. "That's a good one."

"- so now we're going after fairy tale monsters, I guess?" Rory concludes his story with a sigh.

"At least you got to go to Aruba for a bit?" Snart says sympathetically, which Iris repeats.

"Yeah, with a pile of gatecrashers."

He pours himself some more hot cocoa, an action which causes both Iris and Barry to immediately extend their own mugs. Rory makes amazing hot cocoa. With mini-marshmallows, of course - Snart insists, even if he can't drink any (an absolute crime), and honestly, he's right.

"Well, that sounds - incredibly ominous," Barry decides.

"No kidding," Snart says.

Rory shrugs and makes a face in agreement. They've brokered a deal where he takes the jump ship to visit them in Central every other weekend unless there's a crisis, and he's looking a lot better. Though that might be due to the fact that he also visits his shrink while he's visiting them - he and Snart had had a nasty fight about it, proxied by a very unfortunate Iris, but she can't complain that much, given the clearly beneficial results.

"Enough about me," he says. "How's it going on your end? Anything new with the Flash? What about the Rogues?"

"You really ought to come back and take your place in the Rogues," Snart says.

Iris repeats it.

"I will, I will. It's my retirement plan."

"I'm surrounded by supervillains," Barry says with a grin. "Help, help. Do you know that Iris finally has a name?"

"Oh yeah? Mazel tov. What is it?"

"It's not that big a deal -" Iris demurs.

"Yes, it is," Barry and Snart say at the same time.

Barry loops an arm over her shoulder. "Iris West," he announces grandly. "Otherwise known as: The Weaver."

Rory blinks. "The...Weaver? As in - making clothing?"

Iris snorts. "As in making stories, Rory. Clotho, spinner and weaver of fate."

"Huh. I like that," he says, but he's still frowning.

"What's bugging you?" Snart asks, and Iris conveys.

"It's just - the fugitive fairytales we're dealing with? They're attracted to, uh, you know, appropriate-sounding things and places and people and stuff."

"So? It's not like I'm the real Clotho," Iris points out.

"Yeah," Mick says, and his expression has gone grim. "But they don't know that."

Barry's in costume, suddenly, a spark of lightning, and even Snart is turning and Iris suddenly has this feeling in the back of her neck, like there's something behind her - something dark and powerful and grasping and reaching for her -

"You touch her over my dead body," Snart snarls.

The feeling of dread snaps, its power broken, though Iris isn't dumb enough to turn around.

Seriously, though. Is there any time that Snart wouldn't pun?

--

"C'mon, babe," Iris pleads. "We need you to wake up. We need you to come back to us. I'd even settled for one of your dumb puns right now. Come on."

"And soon," Barry adds, his eyes worriedly flicking to the clock. "We're on a time limit here."

"I still can't believe he's back," Ror- Mick says blankly. His fingers are intertwined with Len's, and his knuckles are white from how tightly he's holding him.

It's a bit weird for Iris, adjusting from calling them Snart and Rory to Len and Mick, but after she used her brief spin (thanks, Len) as Clotho, a spider-hybrid capable of manipulating timelines if she immersed herself in them, to win a single chance for them to bring Len back using Mick's timeline, she can't think of them as anything else. That's how Mick thinks of them, and she was eight-knees-deep in his timeline and in his brain for quite a while, guiding Barry through the timeline to change the necessary things to give them a chance to save Len.

(And thanks to that, she knows how much Mick gave when he agreed to let her in, despite all his fears.)

She's not a spider anymore, thank god, but that does mean the effects of her power only lasts until the next sunrise - and with it, their only chance of retrieving Len from where he was trapped by the Oculus in the in-between betwixt life and death.

All he needs to do is consent to another chance at life.

But he won't wake up long enough to do it.

“Not yet he’s not,” Iris says grimly, before turning back to Snart. “C'mon, Sleeping Beauty," she urges. "We need you to wake up. That'd be the best possible gift you could give us. Better than anything else. Please!"

"That's what bugs me, you know," Barry says.

Iris turns to look at him.

"Uh, no offense meant, Iris."

"A spider isn't a bug, Barry," Iris says. "I more meant, what's bugging you?"

"I mean, this all started because of the whole fairy tale curse thing, right? That's what we've all been dealing with - mostly Mick and the Legends, but all of us. Right?"

Barry didn't seem to have any trouble making the Rory-Mick switch, Iris notes. Guess it's just her.

"Yeah?" Mick asks. "What about it?"

"I mean, he's asleep-like-death. That's pretty classic fairytale stuff right there - Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, that sort of thing - but we've tried the traditional kiss-to-wake-up thing, and it didn't work!"

They'd all tried: Barry, Iris, even - at their urging and despite protests of a purely platonic sort of love being involved - Mick.

But Len still slept.

"I mean, we even tried giving him a Heimlich in case he had, you know, an apple piece in his throat, but - nothing! I just don't know what fairytale we're in, if it isn't one of those."

"I think we are," Mick says. "In one of those, I mean."

Iris and Barry blink at him.

"After you made me kiss 'im," Mick explains. "Gave me an idea."

"Oh? What idea -"

The door - which Iris is 90% sure she locked - swings open.

"Lemme at the contrary jerk," the woman standing there, resplendent in black leather and gold chain, says, her hands on her hips.

"Hey, Lisa," Mick says.

Lisa? As in, Lisa from Gotham?

"Snar- I mean Len's sister?" Barry asks. "You think she can do it?"

Hah! Barry has issues with it, too!

...not the focus right now.

"Well, you said platonic love might count," Mick points out. "And there ain't nobody Snart loves more than his baby sister. So I texted her to come over, stat."

"You're a pretty close second and you know it, Mickey," Lisa says. "But I come first."

She sounds so confident.

Iris can't help but hope that it really will work. She and Barry, they never really got a chance to see if love would bloom between them and Len; that’s why they thought it might work better with Mick, who Len has known since forever. But now that Iris thinks about it, from all the stories she’s heard about Lisa, from all the emails she's written, from the way Len’s face softened with amusement when he heard her (often profanity-laced) responses…

This might be it.

"Please let this work," she whispers as Lisa strides forward and kisses her brother on the cheek just as the moon sets, only an hour or so before the dawn.

For a long moment, there is nothing, and Iris' heart begins to break.

And then Len stirs.

Shivers.

Opens his eyes.

Iris makes a wordless shriek that she is totally going to deny later and throws herself forward to wrap her arms around him.

She feels Barry’s arms go over her shoulders as he also jumps forward to embrace them both.

“Saps,” Lisa sniffs, but she sounds approving.

Len coughs a little, clearing his throat. “If you disapprove of my saps,” he says, his voice hoarse with sleep, “you should make like a tree and leaf.”

Iris groans and bonks her head against Len’s shoulders. “Why do I like you,” she says despairingly.

Barry’s sniggering. She can hear it. He has such bad taste.

(And clearly, given that she’s – hopefully – dating them both, so does she.)

“Enough with the plant puns,” Mick says. “No offense, Lisa –”

“We don’t talk about the plant thing when I’m in Central,” she says sternly.

Iris – doesn’t want to know.

Okay, she really wants to know, but she’s not going to ask.

She’ll ask Len about it later.

“Whatever. Anyway,” Mick says. “Weaver, don’t you need to do whatever it is you need to do?”

“Right,” Iris says. “Len, do you want to stay with us? Here? Alive?”

Len blinks at her. “This some sort of trick question?”

Barry pinches him, causing him to yelp. “Just answer it.”

“Yes,” Len says. “Obviously yes.”

Iris exhales with relief as the last bits of the fairytale power flows of her and Len suddenly – solidifies, is the best was to describe it. He wasn’t not-solid before, but now he’s even more solid, more real, more /here than he was a second ago.

Len blinks, then looks down at himself.

“I’m back,” he says blankly. “It worked.”

“Yeah,” Iris says. “It worked.”

And then she kisses him.

And makes room for Barry to kiss him, too.

The perfect fairytale ending.

“You know, I think I will make like a tree,” Lisa says. “Mick, call me when they’ve stopped; I’m getting something to drink.”

“Are you kidding?” Mick says. “You think I want to be here to see this? I’m coming with you.”

Iris rolls her eyes.

Okay, maybe not a perfect fairytale…

“So let me get this straight,” Joe says. He’s got that furrow between his brows that means that a storm is coming – usually one of his temper tantrums. Iris isn’t afraid: Cecile will kick his ass if he starts yelling or tries to pull his usual silent treatment stunt. “You two have finally fallen in love after all these years.”

“That’s right,” Iris says.

“And you even got a big, beautiful wedding –”

“Interrupted by Nazis,” Barry helpfully interjects.

“Interrupted by Queens,” Iris mutters. Yes, she’s still bitter.

“And, sure, you had to deal with some trouble at first –”

“That time when we thought Barry was gone for good but actually he just disappeared for six months and lost his mind a little?”

Joe is making a face like he doesn’t appreciate Iris’ interruptions.

Well, tough. Iris isn’t exactly appreciating his attempts to rewrite history so it’s all sunshine and roses.

“Either way,” he says through gritted teeth. “You two are still happily married, right?”

“Yes,” Iris says. “We are.”

“Then why the fuck are you dating Snart?!” he explodes.

“Watch your language around Jenna,” Cecile snaps.

“Sorry,” Joe says. “But seriously – Iris, why would you do this to Barry?”

“Uh, no,” Barry says. “I’m also dating Snart here.”

“Wait, you’re the one cheating on Iris?” Joe asks, looking surprised.

Iris is a little bit offended that he was totally willing to believe that she would cheat on Barry but not vise-versa. What the hell, Dad?

“No,” Barry says. “No, we’re both dating him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Joe says. “And anyway, it doesn’t answer the question of why. Or even when!”

“There was a whole ghost thing,” Iris says breezily. “You missed it, but hey! I hear babies are super distracting, so no worries. Either way, it’s a done deal, so you’re going to shut up and accept it without trying to psychoanalyze our relationship. We like him, we’re dating him, we’re hopefully going to move into falling in love with him more than we already are, and there’s no rational reason we can give you that will convince you it’s a good thing – so we won’t.”

"You know what, fine," Joe snaps. "Forget Snart. Why is Rory living with you?"

"He's a really great chef?" Iris offers helplessly even as Barry shrugs. "And anyway, the guy we're both dating wants him to, so..."

Joe crosses his arms with a scowl. “You still can’t both be dating him.”

“Joe,” Cecile says gently. “Tell me, have you ever heard of polyamory…?”

[pinkletterday]

Come Find Me

Pairing:Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Rating: Teen

Summary: Three in the morning, a heart broken three times, a phone call and a second chance.

Part 2 of the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU

Read on AO3

It wasn’t much of a vacation, thought Barry grumpily, if you couldn’t get any sleep.

His phone glowed 3:14 AM. He’d kept it on the nightstand half an hour ago, trying to make an honest effort at catching the Sandman. Thirty minutes of unwelcome thoughts whirling in his head and of memorizing the shadow patterns the leaves outside made against the moonlit ceiling  - and no sleep yet in sight. He turned on his side and pounded the pillow in frustration.

The phone began buzzing on the table. Either the person at the other end knew he was an insomniac who’d be awake at this time, or it was some jerk who didn't care if he wasn’t.

INCOMING CALL - OLIVER. Oh well. Right on both counts.

He stared at the screen, pulse racing, torn between irritation and need. This was kind of the opposite of being given space from...whatever they were having right now. On the other hand, Oliver had been very good about not calling for the last twelve days.  

On the other, other hand - Barry had a flash of Oliver slumped in an alley, the green leather of his vest soaked in blood, teeth gritted against the pain.

His fingers seemed to slide across the screen of their own volition. “Hello.”

A beat. “Hi.” Warmth suffused him at the sound of Oliver’s voice. Damn it. “How are you?”

A ball of suck, that’s how he was. “Mmm.” He didn’t have the energy to lie to him.

A long exhalation. “That’s descriptive.”

“Is everyone all right?” Barry asked. Oliver didn’t sound like a man with a mortal wound. That didn’t mean he was the best at interpersonal communication when he was in crisis.

“Everyone’s fine,” Oliver assured him and some of the tension in his muscles escaped. “Well, my mother is being arrainged next week, but you knew that.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be there in time for that.” Barry’s heart was heavy with sympathy at what Oliver and Thea were going through. They weren’t children like he had been when he’d watched his father being crucified in court, but somehow he didn’t think seeing a parent charged with murder got any easier as an adult. Oliver always set his jaw with a steely determination when he spoke of it, like he was going to bend fate to his will with his bare hands if he had to, but Barry could see the fear at his core.

Oliver had never been able to hide anything from him. Barry sometimes thought it was only because he had never really wanted to.

Right. He was getting sucked back into Queen drama.

“Why did you call?”

That was a stupid way to change the subject. Now Oliver was going to think he didn’t want him calling, when the opposite was true. But then Barry had been the one who had asked for space. Because he was a fool who had no idea what he wanted.

There was a silence. “I missed you,” Oliver said softly.

A lump rose in Barry’s throat. “I miss you too.” So much.

“Then come home.”

Barry was technically home. He was in Central City, safely ensconced in his childhood bedroom at the West house. “I am coming back to Starling on Monday. I’m almost out of sick days anyway.”

“I meant,” Oliver drew a frustrated breath, “come home to me.”

Barry swallowed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. "It's not that simple."

“Are you still mad at me?”

He burrowed his head in the pillows, frustration welling. “I wasn't mad.”

“Yes you were.”

“Okay, yes I was,” gritted Barry in irritation. “You left. I told you I was in love with you, you pulled me out of the rubble, kissed me and then left.”

“I know, and said I was sorry-”

“For three months, Oliver!”

“I thought you said you weren’t mad.”

Barry deflated. “It’s not so much that I’m mad. I’m not even sure it’s so much about what you did.”

“Is this about Iris?” Careful and hesitant. “Is it because you’re still in love with her?”

Damn it. It was not about Iris.

Except maybe it was. A little.

“Why do you think I’m still in love with her?”

“Because I know what you look like when you’re in love,” Oliver sounded sad. Barry’s heart hurt. “You get this look, like you can’t get close enough to her voice, so you just try to cradle the phone against your face like it’s her you’re holding to you.”

Barry became aware of the way he had wedged his phone between the mattress and his head, trying to get as close to Oliver’s voice as possible. "Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s how I’m holding my phone right now.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Oliver breathed with note of hope.

“Yeah,” Barry admitted. I’m in love with you too, idiot. He had already told Oliver he loved him, that inauspicious day they had barely managed to stop the Undertaking, but he had never added that “too”. It exposed his secret shame, that he was in love with two people, one of whom didn’t even want him.

Maybe even three.

“Barr, please explain this to me,” Oliver’s voice sounded frustrated now. “If you’re asking for time to get over her, I don’t think it’s going to happen. Or at least it’s going to take longer than a couple of months. It’s been years since she turned you down, you’ve already had a long term relationship after, and you still haven't stopped loving her.” There is a pause. “Honestly, I don’t think you ever will.”

“Then why are you still here, trying to get me to go out with you?” Barry demanded. “Anyone else would be running for the hills right now.”

“I did!” said Oliver, laughing ruefully. Barry’s mouth also slid into a smile despite himself. “I ran for the hills all the way back to the North China Sea. It didn’t work out so well for me. All I could think about was being back with you.”

“Oliver,” The lump in Barry's throat swelled, his eyes beginning to well up. “I’m not- I’m damaged goods, all right? It’s like, I fall in love and then they leave and I just stay there. I don’t move on, I don’t heal and I get more miserable and broken and-”

“Whoa, whoa,” interrupted Oliver. “Back up there. First of all, if you’re damaged goods, what the fuck am I?" He sighed deeply. "I was damaged before I ever got on the Gambit, Barry. I had no direction in life, I hated myself and covered it up with booze and partying and I was so afraid of failing at life that I actively sabotaged my relationships with people who believed in me. I was a selfish jerk. And now...I’m no prize, Barr. Whatever is going on with you, it can’t be worse than what’s going on with me.

“As for not healing or moving on - bullshit. You went back to college after Iris turned you down. You had a serious relationship. You told me you were happy with him.”

Barry’s heart twisted painfully. “Oliver, don’t -”

“And let’s not forget you slept with me in between.”

“Are you seriously being smug about that right now?” Barry said incredulously.

“I took your virginity." He can just picture Oliver’s frat boy grin that even Lian Yu hadn’t been able to erase completely. It was so rare now. Barry wanted to kiss him on principle. “I’m always going to be smug about that.”

“Um, you were a complete stranger I had a one night stand with trying to get over Iris,” he couldn’t help but point out. “And you were cheating on Laurel with me.”

“Ouch, Allen.” He knew Oliver was smirking, still in that carefree pre-Gambit voice. “Tell it like it is."

“I’m telling it like it was,” said Barry, softening his tone. He bit his lip. In the interests of full disclosure - “Len was a kind of rebound too.” At least it had started out that way.

He rarely spoke of Len to Oliver. Maybe because, unlike Iris, he was a man and Barry had actually been with him. It was...awkward.

“Are you telling me I’m a rebound from Len?” Oliver sounded hurt.

“God, no!” said Barry immediately, although his stomach dropped a little. That wasn’t...entirely true. But Len had been out of his life for two years by the time he had found Oliver again and they had established that Barry wasn’t a moving on kind of person. Pathetic heap that he was. “You were the whole reason I came to Starling in the first place.” That at least was completely true.

There was a silence. Had Barry never told him that before?

“I didn’t know that,” said Oliver finally.

“You thought your one night stand from five years before just happened to be in town the same week you were found?” he teased.

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Well, I wasn't,” It was Barry's turn to be smug. “I was watching TV with Iris in Central City when I saw the news. Caught the train to Starling in time to gatecrash your...very eventful welcome home bash."

"You stalked me?" the glee in Oliver’s voice made him sound so young that Barry would let him tease him forever just to hear it. "I was that good our first time, huh?"

"You were adequate," said Barry aloofly. "Also the green leather guy I saw zip-lining into the building was a point of interest."

This failed to deter the other man. "So hold on. When you sidled up to me at the bar after Lance had stormed off -”

“‘Hello, beautiful stranger, how you doin’, we banged five years ago, glad you aren’t dead, wanna go again?’” Barry had to grin through his mortification. “Yeah, I practiced that.”

“That is distinctly not how I remember it going down,” Oliver told him skeptically. “I noticed this cute guy trying very hard not to check me out-”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s never happened to you before,” Barry snorted.

“- and I bought you a drink, then recognized you immediately -”

“I remembered that, after our first time, you turned over and told me ‘dude, you are the sweetest thing I’ve ever fucked’” said Barry drily. “That was charming. Figured I might be memorable.”

“God, did I really say that?” said Oliver with a shudder in his voice. “What is wrong with you. You came looking for a guy who called you ‘dude’ after taking your virginity.”

Barry had the fleeting realization that the Oliver that had become the vigilante was not a person who would now ever say “dude” again. It was like that entire aspect of his personality had died on the island. Barry enjoyed Oliver’s new, sexy, adult gravitas but couldn’t help but be saddened that it was so dearly bought.

“Like I said. You're very adequate in bed,” he answered seriously.

Oliver snorted. "Is that why you were so easy to seduce?”

“Excuse me?” exclaimed Barry in mock outrage, “I think we just established that I’d been running the show the whole time. I seduced you!”

“You mean I wasted all my best moves?”

“Mov - Oliver, you looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive and asked me if I "wanted to have a repeat of our last encounter.'” Barry vividly remembered looking for the rambunctious boy of five years agone and being shocked to find instead a perfectly coiffed man with eyes that pierced into him. “I assure you, there weren’t any moves involved.”

He had been arrested by the way Oliver had moved like a tiger stalking through the grass, entire body coiled to to spring at a moment’s notice. Barry never understood how he managed to move among normal people without them immediately noticing that the man wasn’t remotely one of them.

"Still counts," said Oliver, with a definite pout in his voice. "And I'm pretty sure it was me seducing you the time after that!"

Crouching tiger, hidden dork.

“Which time?” Barry chuckled. “There was the first time, at the hotel. Then the next morning -”

“-in the jacuzzi” continued Oliver smugly. “Then next weekend at the Marriott. All day."

"I requested a transfer from the CCPD after that time," remarked Barry, nonchalant.

"Huh. Seems I'm much more adequate than even I knew. You told me you were already in the middle of moving."

"I was," Barry reiterated with dignity. "...after I met you. And saw the crazy man jumping around rooftops. And heard about Martin Somers."

"Aw, and here I thought it was because I was special."

"Well, to be fair, after I moved to Starling properly, your... adequacies did distract me from the Hood guy."

Presumably the sex haze had been to blame for that fact that it took almost three weeks for him, professional CSI, to put together the evidence in the bow callouses on Oliver’s fingers, the scars and fresh bruises on his body, the night time disappearances and to accept the conclusion they presented.  

"Damn right," said Oliver solemnly. "The Hood guy wishes he was as adequate as me. Remember when we christened your whole apartment?"

"The kitchen counter holds fond memories," agreed Barry. "And the shower. And the balcony. And old Mrs. Suarez from the apartment across the balcony."

"You were so mortified!" Oliver was laughing. "You swore we were never having sex outside of a bed again!"

"Just because you are about as capable of shame as a cat -"

"I'm just saying that it was barely three days later I had you bent over my desk at the factory," said Oliver in that butter-wouldn't-melt voice that made cops want to arrest him on principle. "Stalking, public indecency...I know I'm good but I don't think even I can take all the credit here, Barr."

Barry hadn’t known two humans could be that horny. The whole first month he had moved to Starling he had felt like his dick had woken up from nearly two years of celibacy and was making up for it by trying to kill him. He wasn't sure what Oliver's excuse was, but they had been so unable to keep their hands off each other that it was a miracle they hadn't been found out by anyone other than Digg.

"Well, we cooled off after traumatizing poor Diggle," said Barry wryly. "Honestly I lost track of where and when we did it those first few weeks."

“I remember all the places I took you that first month” said Oliver softly. “I felt like I was drowning unless I was with you. I think that’s when I fell for you.”

Barry snorted in disbelief. “Oliver, just before Christmas you broke into my apartment as the Hood and threatened to arrow me.”

Oh fuck. He instantly regretted bringing that up. He had forgiven it as soon as he had started working with Oliver and Digg, but Barry knew it still haunted him. “You really should have thought the whole sleeping-with-a-curious-CSI-while vigilante-ing thing through,” he tried to joke flippantly.

It didn’t work. Damn it.

“I would never have done it,” Oliver said urgently, and Barry’s regret mounted.

“I know, Oliver,” he reassured. He did know that. But he also knew that Oliver didn’t. Not truly. Oliver used to have nightmares about having actually had put an arrow through Barry's heart afterwards, while sleeping next to him. Those would be the nights that he had woken to the other man chanting his name and bolting upright in a sweat to pull Barry into a crushing embrace, shaking.

He ached to hold Oliver now, forgetting his current doubts and dilemmas. To just to take the next train to Starling and run into his arms.

“Are you all right?” asked Barry softly, tenderly cradling the phone against him.

“I’m fine,” came the gruff answer, all traces of the light-hearted playboy vanished. “We were talking about why you aren’t coming home.”

Ah, yes. Deflect. Repress. Ignore until it blew up in your face. He suddenly remembered all the reasons they were a bad idea.

“Because if I do,” said Barry wearily, “I’m just going to fall into your arms and let you sweep me off my feet. And we’d probably be happy for a while. But then you’ll to get tired of being in a relationship with someone who's in love with other people and not just you. Or you’ll decide that it’s too dangerous for me to be with you again, and push me away “for my own good’”

Oliver processed this. “Wow,” he said finally. “I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist in this relationship.”

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Barry sighed. He suddenly felt fatigue settle into every bone in his body. “Neither of us have the best track record with relationships. Face it, sooner or later, one of us will say the  L-word and it will all come crashing down around our ears.”

“The L-word?” said Oliver. “You mean “I love you”?”

All the breath whooshed out of Barry’s lungs and his throat went tight with fear. “Oliver-”

“You’ve already told me that,” Oliver ploughed on ruthlessly. “And it’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I love you. It’s why I came back to Starling after three months of trying to run. It’s why I’ve been trying everything to persuade you to come back to me ever since. It’s why I didn’t talk to you for two weeks while you went back to Central and Iris West, even though it’s killing me, because you wanted space. It’s why I finally called you now, because it’s been two weeks and I can’t sleep, worrying I’ve lost you for good, aching for your voice - Barry, I love you.”

He was stunned. He could distantly feel tears sliding down his face and his heart was in his throat. A strangled sound escaped him.

“Barr,” Oliver’s tone sounded defeated now, and no no no that’s not what he wanted. “These are all my cards on the table, okay? I don’t care that you’re in love with Iris. I don’t care that Len broke your heart. I don’t care that your Dad’s in prison, or that you’re damaged or whatever else makes you think you can’t be with me. You’re the first thing I’ve really wanted for myself in five years, other than coming home.

"You make me want to be selfish. I know that sounds like it’s a bad thing, but really it’s - I had forgotten what it’s like to want something for myself without feeling guilty for wanting it. I feel like you’re the only thing I’m allowed to be selfish about, because it makes all the other stuff...bearable. I can’t push you away again. It would kill me.” After months of trying to get through his walls, Oliver was just...stripping naked in front of him. For him. And. Barry couldn’t.

He actually couldn’t breathe.

Oliver took a deep breath. “So for the last time, please, please, babe. Come home to me.”

A beat passed.

“Okay.”

There was a disbelieving silence.

“...Okay?”

“Yeah,” Barry laughed tremulously through his tears, electrified with both fear and excitement. “Okay. That’s one hell of a pitch, Queen. Jesus. I forgot what an all-or-nothing guy you are.”

“Look who’s talking,” Oliver sounded stunned, like a man unable to believe his own good fortune. “So, what does “okay” mean exactly?”

“I guess...okay, I’ll come back and I’ll go on a date with you?”

Oliver was laughing now, almost hysterically. “Crap, we’ve never been on a date, have we?”

“Well, we’ve had sex in some really fancy places with room service,” Barry giggled while wiping his eyes. “Maybe those count.”

“God,” exhaled Oliver. Barry could picture him running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know how I thought I could just have sex without strings with you. How did I think I wouldn’t fall for you?”

“It's true," he agreed solemnly. "I'm just that good."

“Yeah," Oliver's smile was back in his voice and Barry pressed the phone to his ear tighter, imagining the blue of his eyes growing loving and soft. “You're pretty adequate too."

......

(Later)

“So, “babe”, huh?”

“Babe. Do you like it?”

“...I don’t hate it.”

“I’ll save it for special occasions.”

“I could live with that. Honeybunch.”

“Shut up.”

//end

[twicetolivetwicetodie]

4x22 “Think Fast”

Wow. What an episode. Let’s dig into it. 

That opening scene was insane. It was yet another instance highlighting just how terrifying DeVoe is. He singlehandedly took out an ARGUS facility, murdered almost everyone in it. I think that ARGUS scientist was the only survivor? I am still shook that he turned the ARGUS agents he had already killed into zombies and had them kill their coworkers. All while listening to Handel’s “Hallelujah”. The soundtrack made the scene even more chilling. I am super offended that he used Diggle’s face to get into ARGUS. You leave him out of this, DeVove! 

The Harry and Iris scenes were an absolute delight. I can’t get enough of them. That is a relationship I didn’t know I needed to see. It also seems like they’ve switched roles in a way? Iris was more interested in the facts of the situation and taking actions and Harry was thinking more on the emotional side of things. It was a very interesting role reversal that worked really well. It broke my heart to hear Harry say that he didn’t feel useful anymore. But Iris’s compassion and understanding of people, and her including Harry in her search for Marlize, helped him realize, and reiterating what Cecile has said to him before “There is more than one way to be intelligent.” 

Iris’s anger over Marlize. I was right there with her! Yes, Iris technically stabbed herself, but I still view it as Marlize stabbing her, as she wouldn’t have been put in that situation in the first place had Marlize not cornered her with a katana. That wasn’t the main issue though, not even close. Marlize helped ruin Barry’s life in more ways than one, put him in prison which led to him losing his job. That is not something that is easy to forgive. So even though Harry had good intentions when he was trying to view things from Marlize’s point of view, I completely understand Iris’s anger with him at that moment. Her confrontation with Marlize was so good. Calling her out on her role in this and her current indifference to the Enlightenment. And this line “Pessimism isn’t smarter than optimism. In this life, the bravest thing you can be is optimistic.” I just...wow. I just really love that line. I love the parallels between Iris and Barry here, because the both of them together can inspire people to be and do better, and Iris really exemplified that in this episode. 

The Killer Frost development was an interesting one to say the least. I’m glad Caitlin finally went to therapy to discuss what’s going on with her. They should honestly have Dr. Finkle sign an NDA and hire her full time at this point. The diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder. This doesn’t surprise me, as it lines up with what we’ve seen in the past with Frost and Caitlin. Though this is an unfortunate trope in comic mediums I find? @barryandiriswest-allen posted about this, and how DID is very rare, but it seems to be fairly common in comic book mediums, I can name at least four Marvel characters with DID: Bruce Banner (Hulk), Marc Spector (Moon Knight), David Haller (Legion), and Mary Walker (Typhoid Mary), and I’m pretty sure there’s more. It was interesting how we got to hear Caitlin talk about her dad as she rarely mentions him so I’m curious as to how many memories of her father she’s suppressing. The childhood memory that we saw suggested that Killer Frost first appeared after what I’m assuming to be a response to her almost getting hit by a car as a child. I think that was her father’s voice in the flashback? They talked about how it was impossible that KF appeared before the particle accelerator explosion. Which isn’t true. We have seen metas whose powers have emerged in response to other events, it just hasn’t been that common as far as we know. Plus I imagine we will get more into the metagene next season with Dawn’s arrival. Barry and Iris will want to know if their children will inherit Barry’s speed. I was talking to @trashgaryen about this, and I kinda came up with a theory. Caitlin doesn’t talk about her father much. All she says is that he died of ALS and that he was a great dad, but she doesn’t really tell us many memories of him. What if Caitlin’s powers onset early, possibly as a result of the traumatic event of her almost getting hit by the car, and she accidentally killed her father? Maybe her mother covered it up to protect her. Possibly why her mom has a career in cryogenics? Not that I think any of this will actually pan out to be true, I’m just spitballing theories here. 

Barry and Cisco’s scenes were so important and emotional. I have missed them being bros and now they are finally opening up to each other, it was so good. I understand both Barry and Cisco’s side of the argument. Barry doesn’t want anyone else to die because of him. “Losing my two best friends? That’s the end of my world.” I don’t blame him for feeling that way at all. At this point, he blames himself for the deaths of twelve people. The look on his face when it was determined that they couldn’t save Fallout was heartbreaking. But Cisco’s argument was 100% correct. He can’t do this alone. Especially in that frame of mind. It broke my heart to hear, and I honestly expected this, that Cisco also blames himself for the deaths of the bus metas. But he’s been suppressing it for so long probably for the same reasons that Barry has been suppressing his feelings. There are two things that Barry said that are sticking with me. The first “I don’t need another therapist.” Ow? Is Barry ashamed that he has to see a therapist? And that he feels like he pushed Ralph too hard cause he wasn’t there. Now I read that as Barry blaming himself for being in prison, so yeah there are definitely more emotions he’s suppressing there. Barrisco angst. But it was needed and good Barrisco angst. Barry needed that reminder that he is not the only one to blame, and that he isn’t and never has been in this alone. Ugh the fact that Cisco blames himself for everything that has happened with DeVoe, that he might view it as him being selfish for wanting Barry back, and maybe he thinks he’s at fault for putting the city in danger for getting Barry out of the Speed Force? How much does Cisco blame himself for? He’s been suppressing this the entire time cause he’s worried about everyone else. That really parallels Barry and Cisco’s emotional arcs currently. Shelving their own emotional problems cause they consider the well being of others more important than their own psychological well-being. Ow that hurts.

Joe and Cecile’s scenes were really cute and endearing. It is really fascinating that Cecile’s powers have expanded now that she’s close to her due date. Her jumping into people’s minds and exhibiting other people’s personality traits was really funny. Joe being so worried about the baby! Oh my heart. His concerns are entirely valid though, what if supervillains attack the hospital while she’s giving birth and he has to protect them? If she goes into labor in the finale, which I’m expecting, he was right to be worried about it. 

I was starting to get really anxious towards the end there, especially after Barry destroyed the satellite and DeVoe didn’t seem all that concerned by it. I knew he had a backup plan. I was furious when he broke into the Time Vault and hijacked Time Vault Gideon. No one fucks with Gideon, you asshole! Barry’s face once he realized that DeVoe had won absolutely ruined me. 

So I definitely think all of this is going to lead into an anti-meta arc. This episode alone reaffirmed that for me. DeVoe breaks into a hi-tech ARGUS facility disguised as a respected ARGUS agent and easily dismantles their meta dampeners. He slaughters almost the entire facility, and takes hostages. It was particularly significant for me that even after Cisco reassured the ARGUS scientist that DeVoe was taken care of, she didn’t seem to trust him. DeVoe then uses STAR Labs satellites to replace the one Barry destroyed. That, in addition to the citywide panic that appears to be happening in the promo, that may result in civilian casualties, may cause the mayor to say “Enough is enough.” and draft anti-meta legislation. STAR will be hated again, though even though it wasn’t their fault, DeVoe still used their tech to kickstart the Enlightenment. 

Even though the finale will definitely cause my heart to race and probably traumatize everyone on Team Flash, I am ready for the happy part of the episode when Dawn reveals herself! 

[runningwitches]

Taboo (Justice League x Reader)

Title: Taboo

Pairing: Justice League x Reader

Requested?: Nope

Word Count: 1907

Summary: The reader is a small hero from the city of San Diego called Taboo. When Bruce Wayne hears of Taboo and her powers, he attempts to recruit her for the Justice League. 

Warnings: Language, I wrote this in like an hour so there must be some warning there, a really lame attempt at a reference to Avengers: Age of Ultron, hopefully nothing else? References to the Justice League trailers? Idk, let me know if i forgot something.

A/N: So I thought of this and wanted to design a sort of hero anyways. She is kinda like Scarlet Witch with her powers, but more like Spider-Man in nature (If you couldn’t tell, I tend to lean more towards the Marvel sides of Superhero stories, but I still love the DCEU so when I re-watched the Justice League trailers, I had to). I will probably turn this into a series, and if I do it will still be mainly Justice League x Reader, however I might throw in some Barry Allen x Reader because not only did I already love the character, but Ezra Miller as Barry has me SHOOK and i love my little bb so much. Hope you enjoy!

Walking back to your Southern California apartment after a late night of crime fighting, you weren't expecting to see what you had.

You were a metahuman from San Diego, and when you finally gained complete control of your powers, you stayed living where you were, “why should New York have all the fun? There are plenty of other at risk places that need help, and I don't know if you noticed, I'm only good for stopping little things like robberies anyways,” you had told your best friend, (Y/F/N), at the time.

She thought you needed to move to New York and fight super villains just because you could use your mind to stop a few thieves. She was planning on moving to New York for a while now, attend college there and live out her dream of being an actress or whatever, and she thought you would join her. Use your powers to save all the tired New Yorkers like you had seen The Batman and Superman do on the news a few months back and all that. But you weren’t that kind of girl. You didn’t want to deal with villains, and you couldn’t stand the fact that those heroes thought that they were better than everyone else. It was obnoxious. You just wanted to be (Y/N), the girl from San Diego who liked art and cartoons, who just happened to have a side job of being the revered Taboo.

Taboo, of course, was your hero name. You didn’t really have to pleasure of coming up with your own name like a lot of the heroes nowadays did. You just woke up one morning to find that a picture of you fighting a group a thieves had been posted in the local paper and all over the local news channels, heroes like you not being big enough to ever hit the national news. Your black suit in great contrast to the light teal that came out of your fingertips, controlling the men who lined up to fight you with ease, your mask creased on your forehead, mimicking the way your face creased up in concentration. The silver of their knives glinted against the flash of the camera that took the picture, as one of the thieves was pictured flying backward, the knife leaving his hand. The titles read “Will the Taboo against heroes in San Diego fade with the coming of a new savior?”, “The newest hero, savior or Taboo?”, or your personal favorite, “Is it really Taboo to want someone to save you?” You didn’t know where the name came from, someone probably overhearing the word and thinking it was cool, and relaying it to the papers as if they knew you personally.

You sighed when you realized how cheesy your new name was, but you left it. As you got ready for your day, you headed out, your suit in your backpack as usual, and went for coffee.

You couldn’t help but overhear the chatter around you, most of it about yourself. You heard good and bad responses, those who seemed to like you, really liked you, and those who didn’t, really didn’t. You couldn’t help but travel through the mind of one of the men nearby who was very vocal about his opinion against you. As you sifted through his thoughts you found that he didn’t truly hate the idea of a hero in the city, but he was scared that a hero meant a villain. You knew that wasn’t true however, and as the line cleared in front of you, you left the man’s mind, ordering your favorite drink and a breakfast sandwich.

The barista offered slight conversation as he normally did, “Nice seeing you again (Y/N),” he started off with, as usual.

“I mean, I’m here every day, Cedrick,” you offered with a shrug and a smile, as he typed in your usual order.

“You hear about that new hero, Taboo? A lot of people don’t like her, but I think she’s good for the city, gives us a little edge.”

“Yeah, I think it’s definitely a good thing to have someone watching over us. She’s definitely no Batman or Superman though, I can already tell,” you responded. Finding your spot next to (Y/F/N), she brought her voice down to a whisper.

“(Y/N)! You’re all over the news!”

“This is not a conversation we can have in public, (Y/F/N). Half the people in here are scared of me, and a quarter of them hate me,” you said lowly through clenched teeth.

“I know, but it’s crazy, you’re finally like the heroes we always saw on the news.”

“No, I’m not, and if you want to keep talking about this, we have to go somewhere else. I’ll walk you to work.” As the two of you walked, she continued to try and convince you to move to New York with her. The more she asked, the more you declined. It really just “wasn’t your thing.” You loved the west coast, some powers and newfound attention weren’t going to change that. “I’m not going. The people of San Diego are already warming up to the idea of having a hero watch over them. This place is my home, and that hero is going to be me.”

“Fine, but when the people here are ungrateful and you need to go to New York to fight some stupid villain anyways, don’t come crying back to me.” She left for New York the next day, and that was the last time you two talked.

One year later, you still hadn’t made it to national news, a fact that you relished. You woke up every day, went to work, and patrolled the streets at night, finding a few crimes to stop every night. You rarely even made it to your local news lately.

As you finished for the night, around 3:00 AM, you opened the door to your apartment, turning on the light, and jumping in shock.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), Bruce Wayne, pleasure to meet you.”

“Bruce Wayne, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you’re the Bruce Wayne who owns Wayne Enterprises?” you said, the uptick in your voice indicating that it was a question.

“The one and only.”

“Cool, cool, but that doesn’t explain why the fuck you’re in my house. So you better give me an explanation real quick or I’m calling the cops. You don’t have any jurisdiction here like you do over in Gotham, Mr. Wayne.”

“Well, my reason for being here depends on who you are. I’m looking for a very specific person, who has some abilities I think will help me in my ventures.”

“Well, I don’t know who you’re looking for, but it’s not me, and your time for explanation is getting shorter and shorter,” you stated, reaching into the back pocket of your jeans for your cell phone.

“Are you or are you not, Taboo?”

You froze, slowly looking up at him. Quickly recovering your facade, you tilted your head, feigning confusion. “Taboo, the hero? Nope, you’ve got the wrong gal, not get the fuck ou-” You were cut of by the throwing of a weapon at you, you quickly lifted your right hand and encased the metal object with an orb of teal energy, the color perfectly matching the accents on the suit stuffed in the backpack you still had on your back. You brought the orb closer and picked the Batarang out of it with your left hand, inspecting it for only a second.

“You’re weird,” he stated, eyes transfixed on the orb now floating between the two of you.

“Batman, huh? I should have guessed that one,” you simply responded, looking up at him.

“I’m putting together a team. A team of people with special abilities. You see, I believe enemies are coming. Otherworldly beings, and we need to stop them. The fate of the world rests in our hands.”

“Yeah, um. No?”

“No? No what? You’re not going to help us? With all due respect, Ms. (Y/L/N), there are monsters, dangerous creatures, among us now. I’ve seen what you can do. To have those powers and sit idly by when the world could very well be destroyed is not something easily done.”

“No,” you stated again, with a slight shake of your head.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation.” “No, Mr. Wayne. I don’t think you quite understand. I don't have training like you. I don't have the physical capabilities that you or the others do, let alone the mental ones. I'm a kid, I'm nineteen. I'm not some superhero like you. I stop robberies and bar fights, not super villains. The closest thing I have to a villain is the crazy guy on the corner of H and Third who gets too drunk and punches innocent people every once in awhile. I can't agree to join your little super team, because I'm not super.” You were angry that this man wanted to bring you into a fight that wasn’t your own. As you calculated your next move, you slipped into his brain, the concentration on his brain weaving teal into your irises. He seemed to catch on to what you were doing, and so he thought of what was happening. What he had seen that made him realize that he needed to get this team together in the first place.

That’s when  you saw it. You saw the horrors that he did, a gasp leaving your lips. You saw the destruction that was to come if the team didn’t stop it. You saw everything he had, and then you realized. He wasn’t bringing you into the fight because he was reckless, because he didn’t care about people like you. He was bringing you into this because he needed you. He needed you to help stop it. You saw the other people on the team, their names flashing into your brain along with images of them. Bruce Wayne: Batman, Diana Prince: Wonder Woman, Arthur Curry: Aquaman, Victor Stone: Cyborg, Barry Allen: The Flash, and (Y/N) (Y/L/N): Taboo. You saw clips of the others, agreeing to join the team, a man with long hair, angrily saying no, before re-thinking his decision, a boy, not much older than you, coolly saying yes, and another young boy, maybe two years older than the last, excitedly stating his acceptance. And finally, you saw yourself, through Bruce’s eyes, an orb of teal wisps at your fingertips, a Batarang inside it. You saw the power he saw, and you realized. Stopping robberies wasn’t truly what you were meant to do. You were meant to help save the world, with this team by your side.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you stated simply, looking at the ground.

“Really? After that speech, you’re changing your mind?”

“I know everything you do now, you guys are powerful but not powerful enough to stop whatever that is on your own. You’ll need all the help you can get, now get out of my apartment before I change my mind.”

“Okay, great,” he said, a sigh of relief leaving him, “We leave for New York tomorrow.”

You smirked, lifting up the hand that still held the Batarang, “Now do you want this back, or can I keep it?”

[cmeliorcte-blog]

♫ ( this is such a. J.J. & Barry thing fuck. )

@metahuman-mutanthuman

♫  five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is.

                                                              1)

J.J. Wayne was, by no means in any universe, a morning person. Every member of her family, save for her twin, were more nocturnal creatures by nature. It came with the job. It was honestly even rare for her to utter any cohesive sentences before noon.

But who was she to turn down some coffee and a chocolate muffin from Jitters with one of her two best friends? At least, when said best friend ran up to her apartment, with something quite obviously on his mind, and stumbling around to ask her very tired self to go with him -- a task few ever even dared.

So she found herself on her second cup of coffee and making her way through her muffin, listening intently as he talked over what plagued his thoughts, pondering through what advice to give him. She was still only working at about 60% here.

“Wow, you’re up early.” The two of them lifted their heads seeing Hazel standing there, hand on her hip and ready for work. A teasing smile came to her lips, raising a brow at them. “You managed to convince her to go out on a coffee date before noon? You’re a true miracle worker, Bar.”

The older Allen sibling opened his mouth and tried to form a proper response to that. “No, no, Hazel, no, this isn’t, uh, this--”

J.J. finally stepped in, finishing off the last of the mug’s contents. “Do you honestly think my ass is gonna go out on a date at 8 in the morning wearing this?” She gestured to her leggings and the hoodie she’d thrown over her ratty nightshirt. “Hazel, I’m WOUNDED.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, a half knowing smile forming on her lips as she picked up her friends mug. “Whatever you say. I’ll get you your refill.”

                                                                2)

“I’ll buy you a Big Belly Burger if you suffer through this with me.”

“Hmm...Make it three and a pizza from Keystone.”

“Deal.”

These big fancy galas were the worst. Especially for her Dad’s birthday. She didn’t even know why he was throwing this -- actually, no, she knew. Alfred did this. And Alfred probably wasn’t going to let him out of this, because god knows her old man needed to socialize a little. And, of course, if she didn’t go, it would look bad, and more importantly, Alfred would kill her.

And she needed a date. Something about her needing to find someone. It was more or less her butler’s way of saying “I want great-grandchildren, and I want them soon, I’m not getting any younger.” Even though, quite frankly, they all knew he was going to live to be 200 years old and outlive all of them, so he really needed to stop using that excuse.

Usually she’d drag Hazel along with her, but the brunette was caught up in some work, so who else would she turn to besides Barry? They’d gone together to a charity gala for Wayne Records, for the charity she was setting up in her Mom’s memory and that had turned out going more tolerable than usual. This would be fine.

She expected the whispers from the more gossipy members of Gotham’s elite. She’d dealt with those looks and hushed voices since she was 7 and everyone had found out Bruce Wayne had bastard twins. But even still she grabbed Barry’s arm and tried to dodge it all -- it wasn’t exactly a comfortable experience for anyone.

“WOW, J.J.!” Oh, cripes, she recognized that voice. The two turned around, and she came face to face with a girl she knew from high school. Actually, knew pretty well. Ruby. “Look at you, you look fantastic!”

Well, time to put on a smile. “Thanks, Ruby. So do you.”

The blonde set her gaze on Barry, eyeing him up and down. “And who’s this handsome guy you brought? Your new beau?” There was a small shift in her expression, one you could barely catch, but it was there. This twinge of jealousy showing through.

Barry laughed slightly, reaching out his hand for her to shake, which she took. “Barry. Allen,” he introduced himself. “I’m a friend of hers from Central City.”

“Uh-huh,” Ruby nodded, though she obviously didn’t believe it. “Well, J.J., you and your friend Barry here should come over to villa sometime. Hit the beach with me and my um, my husband Roderick. It’d be fun.”

The villa, huh? Yeah, she remembered what they did at that villa. More than once. “Yeah, Ruby, of course.” J.J. answered. “Hey, my friend and I have gotta go say hi to my Dad, we’ll catch up later?” The blonde smiled, replying with an ‘of course’ and waved them goodbye as they headed off.

Barry stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking over at the younger woman. “So, Ruby...?”

“Ex-girlfriend. Wild in bed, but kinda crazy in every other situation. Still totally in love with me.”

“...Oh...okay then.”

J.J. linked her arm with his, tugging him through the crow. “For suffering through that, I’m getting you four big belly burgers, a shake and three pizzas.”

The brunet gave her a sly smirk. “Adding onto the bribe over her, huh? Is there any other crazy exes I can meet?”

                                                               3)

“Hey, Allen, your girlfriend’s waiting on ya.”

...Girlfriend?

Barry was just walking out of Singh’s office after a briefing on what he found on one of their latest cases, finding Patterson, Certo, Doyle and Gibbons all crowded around one of the desk’s, looking over at him with smirks. Joe was watching them, rolling his eyes a little before gesturing over to the benches by the elevator. And there sat the girl in question, leaning her back against the wall and slouching into her seat, typing up something on her phone.

“Friend,” he stressed. “J.J. and I are just friends.”

Doyle scoffed. “Allen, that’s J.J. Wayne, and you’re just friends? You’re crazy.”

“She comes over a little too much for it to just be that.” Gibbons chimed in.

“Hazel comes over a lot. So does Iris.” Barry argued.

“That’s different, Hazel’s your sister, and Iris is also Joe’s daughter.”

“So what she doing hanging out here this time around?” Certo asked.

“We’re going out to go see a movie.”

“Ah. So you got a date.”

The speedster sighed, jaw tightening a little at their taunting and Joe finally stepped in. “Alright, alright, knock it off. They’re just friends,” he told them. “They’re pretty adamant on that.” Barry gave his foster father a questioning look and Joe just waved it off. “You’re clocking out, right? Go have fun, I’ll see you at home tonight.”

The young man nodded, patting him on the back as he walked out. “Yeah, see you tonight.”

The group of police still watched him as he walked over to the heiress, catching her attention. They saw a smile flash across her face as she stood up, pulling her purse’s strap further up her shoulder, the two disappearing to go up to the lab to presumably grab Barry’s stuff to head out.

Patterson shook his head, letting out a ‘tsk’ sound. “Are you really buying the just friends stuff?”

Joe looked over at him, furrowing his brow. “Do I look like I’m blind? We all know they’re crazy about each other. They’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

                                                               4)

A constant law in the universe was that if one of the Allen siblings was sad, then J.J. had to fix it. She couldn’t sit by and watch either of them mope, wallowing in their sorrow, especially if it was self-inflicted via blaming themselves for something that wasn’t even really their fault. To see how dim Barry’s eyes looked in this state, the frown that seemed glued to his face, it drove her crazy. She was supposed to be the self-loathing, angsty emo one here, not either of them.

So she sent him out a text that night, urging him to come over pronto. The way she made it seem out, it looked like she was in a pinch and needed help. He didn’t think he’d arrive to pillows and blankets taking up the entirety of the couch and the surrounding floor and Netflix already pulled up to Mystery Science Theater 3000, and the coffee table to be covered in pizza boxes, chips, popcorn, beers, sodas, candy, you name it.

She noticed the furrow of his brow, his jaw setting as he looked over at her, those eyes still not shining like they usually do. “J.J.--”

“C’mon, Barry, I’m not gonna sit here and see you looking like a kicked puppy over something that you didn’t even cause,” she told him, voice firm as she crossed her arms. “You need something to get you to relax, smile again. Hence, a little Netflix date to get your mind off of things.” She saw the look he gave her and she waved it off with her hand, rolling her eyes a little. “Okay, okay, not a date. Jeez. You make it seem like it’s such a chore to be around me, where is the love Barry?”

He rolled his eyes in return, but she saw the corner of his lips twitch in a smile, and that was exactly what she was looking for. Draping an arm around him, she lead him towards the couch. “C’mon, let’s get this started. We got a whole season and all night to get through it.”

So maybe not all night, really. Maybe they passed out around 3 am, most of the snacks already eaten and blankets and pillows askew, and maybe, and only MAYBE, did they end up curled up into each other, faint smiles twitching at their lips as they slumbered with ease for the first time in a while.

                                                              5)

“I didn’t even know there were still a whole lot of arcades around.” Barry mused, hands stuffed in his pockets as he took in the whole of the building. “Like actual arcade arcades.”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you’d find out here.” J.J. replied, giving a small shrug.

They’d all had gone up on a trip to Gotham, going to investigate a case they believed involved one of the members of the Rogue Gallery they had in Central City. Turned out, yeah, it was, along with a couple other villains J.J. used to go toe to toe with in her sidekick days. They still had a day or so left to explore, and while the others decided to go their own ways, Barry stuck with her, someone familiar with the city, knew all the good spots. And she chose this place was one of their destinations, saying this would be where she’d sometimes tag along her oldest brother to go play.

“So. What’dya wanna play first?”

A hum escaped his lips, looking around. One game in particular caught his eye and he grinned. “Ohho, I haven’t played that one in ages.”

She raised a brow, looking over the machine as they walked towards it. “Dragon’s Lair?” she read over it, crossing her arms. “Wasn’t that the one that Don Bluth did the animating for?”

Barry nodded his head. “I got the top score on it when I was a kid, no one could beat it,” he explained. “Drove Hazel nuts because she was determined to beat it. She never could complete the game.”

An amused scoff left her now smirking lips. “So how pissed is she still over it?”

“Very. You mention it to her, you better prepare yourself for a three hour rant about how it cheats,” he chuckled. A challenging look swept across his face, a smirk of his own coming into play. “You wanna see which one of us is better?”

“Depends,” J.J. grinned, devilishly. “You ready to get fuckin swept?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“You’re ON, Allen.”

                                          And the one time it might be

“Well, you look fancy.” Hallee cooed playfully as the leader of the team strutted out into the living room. And boy did she. Her hair was done up, make-up perfectly done, and she was decked out in a high-low black dress and some heels, a pretty shiny necklace and bracelet topping it all off.

“Damn right she does,” Evie smirked, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed behind her head. “That dress is an Evie West original, after all.”

“And I very much appreciate you doing it for me.” J.J. told her, giving her a small high five as she walked past.

Hazel briefly glanced up from chopping up some vegetables for dinner, raising her brow in curiosity. “So. You got a hot date or something tonight?”

A kind of smile she couldn’t quite describe crossed her friends lips as she set her purse on the island counter, digging through it to make sure she had everything. “You could say that, yeah.”

Hallee leaned in, propping her chin on both hands. “With who? Anyone we’d know?”

“Well, actually--” a knock on the door interrupted her halfway through, and she closed up her bag. “That’d be him right now.”

With her purse thrown over her shoulder, she smoothed her dress out as she walked to the door. The other three girls moved from their spots, crowding around behind her to see who it was, jaws almost dropping to the floor at the sight.

There he was. Barry Allen, dressed up in a suit and everything, flowers in hand.

“Well, don’t you look nice tonight.” J.J. purred playfully, leaning up against the door frame.

He smiled brightly, looking her over. “So do you, you look...fantastic.” he spoke, almost hearing the breathlessness in his voice. He raised up the flowers, letting out a small chuckle. “These, uh, these are for you.”

“Oh, Bar, these are beautiful, thank you,” she said, taking a moment to sniff them, admire them, before looking over at Hazel, offering them to her. “Hey, can you put those in a vase for me, please?”

“Uh...yeah, sure thing...”

J.J. moved to start heading out the door, hand on the knob. “We’ll be back later, don’t destroy the place while I’m gone.”

“See you guys later.”

“Bye.”

The door closed behind them, and the three stood there, awe stricken, trying to process what the hell just happened.

Evie was the first to speak up, hand raised and index finger extended in question. “Um...so when did those two finally get together?”

Hallee blinked, running a hand through her hair. “Who knows...I mean, it’s about fucking time, but still...”

The two younger girls looked up to the eldest, still holding the flowers. “Haze?”

A grin broke out across her face as she zoomed into the kitchen, putting the flowers in a vase full of water, before darting into her room, and back out with a binder. Hallee looked her over, very lost by what she was doing. “Uh...what’s that for?”

“Planning their wedding. I’m not getting any younger, neither are they, and look how long it took them to go out on a DATE. Somebody has to make sure they have their shit together.”

[jessischipmunk]

You’ve Got Me

Barry Allen x Reader 

Fandom: The Flash/DC Universe 

Summary: Reader has been having a hard time and has slipped into old habits. Reader always turns to Barry for support and reassurance but feels that he is too busy with his new life as The Flash that she doesn’t want to bother him. 

Warnings: angry Barry; anxiety, mentions of depression and self-harm. SUPER FLUFFINESS 

A/N: this is before season two so Reverse Flash is still disguised as Harrison Wells 

*not my gif*

Barryp>

I sat alone in STAR labs and it didn’t seem like anyone would be dropping by any time soon. Which was nice because I enjoyed the solitude. 

Although, nothing seemed to be going right for me today. Or for the past few weeks for that matter. My friends don’t seem to be friends anymore. Three of them cancelled on me after a week of having this night planned and the last friend had to take an impromptu trip with their family out of state. And I didn’t even bother talking to Barry. He was my best friend, but sometimes I feel like I can’t tell him things. Maybe it’s because the things that are wrong are things that I’ve never told any body at all, or the fact that I’ve had feelings for him for quite some time. 

He had been calling me almost every three hours and texting me every twenty minutes. I always answered him, so there was no doubt that he was beyond worried when I didn’t. But I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and I felt myself growing more and more tired of it. I just didn’t want to inconvenience Barry with my problems. It’s like I have no one left. 

I was working on a new story when I heard the doors open. I turned to find Dr. Wells. 

“Hey,” I said softly. 

“Hello, (y/n). What are you doing here this late?” 

“I was finishing up some work, but I didn’t want to go home just yet. Something about the solitude here is more pleasant than being at home with Barry.” 

“Ahh that’s right. You two have an apartment together now. Why don’t you want to be home with him, exactly?

“He’s just been so busy lately. I sometimes feel I’m in the way whenever I'm doing my thing.” 

“Are you sure that’s the entire story?” 

“The majority of it,” I muttered. Dr. Wells looked at me questioningly. “Okay. I’m falling emotionally. I’ve lost a good amount of my friends and I can’t figure out why. I’ve ruled out every possibility and have come to the conclusion that it is just me and I’ve been picking at all my flaws ever since. Now all my insecurities have resurfaced and I’ve realized that I’m still not okay with myself. I’m depressed, I’m slipping into old habits. They’re not good, but they help me cope. And the depression isn’t any better when my anxiety levels have skyrocketed… I’m just afraid that if I tell him I’m doing worse than I was when we met that I’ll lose him.” 

“Seems to me like you already are,” Dr. Wells said. “(y/n), Barry is your best friend. And he will be there for you through thick and thin. He loves you and I know you love him. If anything, talking to him about this will help both of you get a better understanding of what is going on. It doesn’t matter what you tell him. He may not always be happy about it, but he will never stop caring about you.” 

I nodded. “I’ll tell him… I just need time to compose myself. Is it alright if I just stay here for a bit?” 

“Of course,” he smiled. “Don’t get home too late. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” He shouted and left the room. 

I turned back to my computer and started typing when it crashed. “No, no, no,” I groaned. I got up to plug it in and hoped that whatever I had written was saved. I sighed in relief when everything of this fan fiction had not disappeared. Just as I turned to sit back down, I felt a gust of wind brush past me. Barry. 

I turned to find him standing by the door way. “Hey,” I said. 

“Hey.” 

I looked at his face. There was a combination of pissed off and relief across his face. “How’d you know I was here?” 

“I had Cisco track your phone.” There was a silence. “I’ve tried calling you.” 

“I know.” 

“So, why have you been avoiding me?” I was fidgeting with my computer when I was lifted up out of my chair and pinned against a wall. 

“Barry, what the hell?” 

“I should be the one saying that. For weeks you have been ignoring my calls, you’ve come home late, and when I do get the chance to talk to you, you don’t give me more than three word answers. What is going on?”

“Nothing.” 

“(y/n), I am your best friend. I live with you for fucks sake. You can’t tell me nothing’s wrong. I know it’s something and I’m not going to stop until you tell me!” 

I dropped my head. I didn’t know where to start. Barry knew of my bad habits and what I did to myself. I’ve also never seen him so pissed off before. 

"Dammit, (y/n)! I swear I will lock you in the pipeline if you don’t spit it out right now!” 

“Stop yelling at me,” I shouted, tears brimming my eyes. I shoved him back with all the energy I had and broke free from his hold. It was very rare that he’d yell at me. “There’s a lot going on that is difficult for me to talk about and you shouting in my face isn’t making it better.” 

Barry stared at me, his green eyes filled with concern. “Then tell me.” His voice was soft now. “I don’t care how long it takes. That’s what I’m here for.”

I sighed and said, “I guess the simple way to put it is that I’ve slipped back into old habits.”

“You don’t mean. . “ He trailed off. I nodded. He reached for my arm, but I pulled back. But I wasn’t fast enough for when he reached for my shirt. He lifted it up just enough to see the red marks on my sides. “No, no, no… Why? Princess, you were doing so good. What happened? And why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because you’re so busy and you’re happy. The last thing I want to do is drag you down with my pathetic life.” 

“You could never drag me down. All I want is for you to be happy.” \

“It gets worse… When I do it… I drink and having alcohol in your system is supposed to make you bleed more… It got to the point where I wasn’t sure if the bleeding would stop… All my insecurities have resurfaced. My friends started blowing me off and I feel like I have no one. I’ve sat and picked at everything wrong with me because there was no one around to tell me otherwise so I just started to doubt myself. My anxiety has become worse and it gets worse every damn day. I have an attack at least once a day. And those are good days. Sometimes two, maybe even three. And I was just thinking how good I was doing today because I haven’t had one and here I am, crying hysterically and my chest is starting to feel tight and I’m rambling on because I don’t know what else to do…” 

Barry rushed to me and engulfed me into a hug. “It’s okay,” he told me. “Everything is going to be okay. You’ve got me, (y/n). I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.” I sank into his body as his arms tightened around me protectively. One hand came up to stroke my hair and I started to feel more relaxed. 

“I’m so sorry, Barry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I’m here to help you. That’s what friends do.” 

“I love you, Bar.” 

“I love you too, baby girl.” I sobbed into his chest for a good five minutes before I finally calmed down and pulled back to look up at him. He stared down at me and the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. I relaxed into the kiss. It was better than any of the dreams I ever had of this moment. It felt like fireworks were being set off in my gut.

He pulled away first, resting his forehead on mine. “I meant what I said. I love you. And I’m going to help you no matter what it takes,” he said. I nodded, completely speechless. Barry wiped the tears away and kissed me again quickly. “C’mon. Let’s go home.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It’s nice having The Flash as your best friend. No need for a car or a bus pass. He’s twenty times faster. And not to mention take out on a daily basis. 

We’ve been home for about an hour. I had showered first and now I’m in my room on my bed working on that fan fiction Barry had interrupted. 

Barry hardly left my side. Even when I showered he waited outside the door until I was done. He walked in on me changing, but that wouldn’t have been the first time. He sat with me for a bit until I lied and told him he smelled and that he needed to take a shower. In reality, he always smelled delightful, but I needed to find something, anything, to get him away from me for a few minutes so I could finally finish this story. The boy may be able to outrun a train, but he enjoys his time in the shower. 

It was almost midnight when Barry walked back into my room. He leaned against the door frame. I finished the paragraph I was working on and said, “I can smell you from here. Much better than before.” 

“Ha ha. Very funny,” he mocked. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” I said, still typing. 

“That pizza we got on the way home was the only thing you had to eat today, wasn’t it?’ 

“Yeah,” I said, focused on my story.

“What is that? What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” I said and shut the computer. 

“Bullshit,” he said and used his Flash speed to snatch the device from my lap. “ ‘His red hair was captivating, the color being so bold. And his green eyes mesmerizing. His smile could light up an entire room, and in that moment, I was reminded of why I fell in love with him’. This is flattering, (y/n) but I’d never dye my hair red.” He chuckled. 

“It’s not about you, idiot,” I smirked and grabbed my laptop back, setting it down on my bedside table. 

“Then who?” He asked, leaning against the wall behind him. 

“Michael Clifford.” 

“That dude from your favorite band. Wait, you right fan fiction?” 

“Yes I do.” 

“How come you never told me?” 

“I was bullied for it back home. So when I moved I thought it better to keep it to myself. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. Just a habit, I guess.” 

“I know I sorta mocked it, but that paragraph I read was very well written. You have something there. And I mean that wholeheartedly.” 

“Thanks.” I said with a small smile. 

“And you need to get into the habit of telling me everything more often because I have a feeling there’s still a lot that I don’t know about.” 

I nodded. “Not yet, though. Like I said, it’s not exactly easy” 

“Of course it isn’t” he said understandingly. “Are you going to be okay?” 

“Yeah. I think so.” 

“Good. We’ll work through this together, no matter how long it takes.” 

“Thank you, Barry.” 

“How about I take you to dinner tomorrow night?” 

“I’d like that,” I smiled softly. 

“Perfect,” he said and bent down to give me a kiss. “It’s late. We should get to bed,” he said as he started to walk out of my bedroom. 

“Hey, Barry?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” 

He smiled and said, “Sure.” 

He crawled under the blankets with me and immediately pulled me into his body. “I love you,(y/n).” 

“I love you too, Barry.” 

“Sleep tight, princess,” he said and kissed my head before we both drifted off to sleep. 

[dylanjonferguson-blog]

S01E05: “Double Trouble”: Gentlemen of the Road

Where even is The Littlest Hobo set? It’s obviously filmed in Canada, and usually not too far from Toronto, but this is generally disguised. In the two-parter “Manhunt,” a bar has clearly been decorated to look as if it’s in the United Stated, with only American beer brands present and advertised on the walls (the fact that the only two beers on tap are Schlitz and Pabst strongly suggests that the episode is specifically set in Wisconsin, for whatever reason). The Hobo could, of course, be wandering all over the continent. Some of the wonderful opening shots of the fifth episode, “Double Trouble,” give us a sense of place beyond geography: Bales of hay, an old tractor sputtering, a grinning tramp in a straw hat, fresh-faced country girls cheering, sturdy horses whinnying. This could be Russia, the French countryside, or the Argentine pampas. It doesn't matter. We’ve been transported to the realm of folklore.

“Double Trouble” might be the most visually striking episode yet. After these establishing glimpses of the hay-scented, sun-ripened farmland, we’re treated to a gorgeous tracking shot that leisurely promenades up among a county fair. We take in stages draped in circus-coloured cloth; more young girls cheering from astride bales, truck-beds, the hood of a yellow school bus; and several farmers interacting with their animals: a horse, a goat, a chicken, and a young pig cradled like a beloved infant. Far from the crackling schism of “Smoke” and the xenophobic religiosity of the previous entry, this bucolic folklore setting – where men and beasts toil in tandem, unsuspicious of one another – is a breath of fresh country air.   Now would be a good moment to finally bring up the aesthetics of The Littlest Hobo. TLH was one of the earliest broadcast dramas to be filmed on videotape, rather than film. One effect of this on the viewer is to cast a net of associations different and broader than those of the usual stupefying, soundstaged film-for-TV aesthetic. The videotape look doesn’t necessarily feel like televised fiction; the mind scintillates with associations ranging from network sports telecasts, to TV news reports of Reagan-and-Bush-era invasions of Latin American countries, to cringe-inducing home videos, to pornography. All these associations might become as upsetting as they are hauntingly familiar, if it weren’t for the softness and warmth of the visuals produced.  

One feature of the videotape look is that it flattens the focus, placing far and near objects together, without a crispening of the in-focus plane held apart from the blurred depth of field. It’s pleasantly painterly the way every object in the composition appears to occupy the same space, with hardly any impression of depth beyond that provided by simple perspective. For a show that questions the lines we draw between man and nature, it is appropriate that the visual style crowds the frame this way, foregoing the familiar foreground-background dichotomy familiar from film and TV. Here, natural surroundings cannot be visually presented as mere background, divided from the hero by a wall of stark focus.  

The impression of looking at a painting, as well as the pantheistic sense of world-melding, is only strengthened by the soft, pastel colours created by videotape, which banish the slicing brutality of black shadow. Dulcet pigments meld into one another with a sunny-afternoon borderless haze, reminiscent of an Impressionist canvas. A Monet, perhaps.  

A peculiarly strong effect is created by videotaped white, which positively glows like a milky dream. In “Double Trouble” especially, where schoolgirls are often on screen, their uniform white T-shirts radiate an unreal purity, a white that seems to impel the surrounding pastel hues to modestly retreat from the colourless bloom.

But maybe the most remarkable effect happens not out in the sun, but when the camera moves indoors (which is fairly rare, in this show). Whenever a window to the outside enters the frame, the light coming from this window appears as a glowing, pale, indigo shape; a bluish, creamy blossom of unreal ether, with misty, crinoline-paper edges. The exterior imposes on the room as a beguiling but dangerously impossible fantasy. It reminds me of two films. One is Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut, where windows similarly appear as glowing blue squares in orange walls. In that film’s orange-and-blue colour scheme, the window emerges as a nagging reminder of fantasy’s grip, and the possibility that even domestic moments are part of a dreamscape. The other film I think of is Hirokazu Kore-eda's Afterlife, where heaven is depicted as an office building, normal in most respects, though the windows to the outdoors (whatever the outdoors may be, in the afterlife) are occluded by opaque blue. That film is about the recently-deceased selecting and recreating their favourite memories, to be relived for eternity. The recreated memories are recorded on videotape.  

The Hobo here appears as the pal of an indigent bum named Ben, played by British TV veteran Barry Morse. Compared to the first four episodes, The Hobo gets more reaction shots where he seems to be simply enjoying himself, often looking up at Ben when the two share a joke. In previous adventures, Hobo reaction shots appear almost exclusively in moments of grim decision-making, but in Ben’s company, the dog seems relaxed and at home. Perhaps it is no coincidence that, this time around, The Hobo is given no sobriquet. Perhaps, in this company, he feels comfortable to be himself, and no name-yoke is imposed. While the human-animal schism will play a hand (once again) in this episode, the Hobo-Ben relationship, like the men coexisting with their animals in that early tracking shot, shows us the possibility of a relationship with no interspecies tensions. Their shared hobo-ness seems to cut across animal lines.

We have looked at The Hobo’s character, up until now, as if he’s toiling under a sense of responsibility, or even enslaved by his love for people. “Double Trouble” invites us to entertain a happier possibility: that the dog can wander and make connections without plan or compulsion, simply for the enjoyment of it.

Certainly, he seems to enjoy his fellow hobo. “Where would two gentlemen of the road be most likely to assuage the pangs of hunger?” the dramatic vagabond asks the amused hound, before the two’s ears prick up at the sound of the nearby fair’s reverberating PA announcements. They enter the fair in the middle of a contest to see what can pull more weight: a tractor, or two Clydesdale horses. “These magnificent mammals versus the machinery of modern man!” the bombastic MC intones. As you can see, the dialogue is more exaggerated this time, as befits the folklore atmosphere.  

The horses win the contest, and are put up for auction. A cynical businessman named Rogers is initially the only bidder, saying he’ll give ten dollars to turn the horses into fertilizer. He proclaims that no one truly needs workhorses anymore and, despite the pastoral setting, the other villagers’ lack of bidding seems to prove him right. And yet a schoolmistress named Miss Allen – urged on by the shock of her girl students, who are aghast at the thought of the Budweiserien steeds going to soil – is compelled to begin bidding against Rogers. There’s an interesting moment when Ben sees Miss Allen accidentally drop a bill, and he puts his food on it, with the intention of stealing. The Hobo urges him silently to give it back, and he does. We see here how the dog doesn’t actually cling to morally-perfect Good Men, as we might have previously assumed, though he does encourage good behaviour in his friends. Ben is then moved to help the teacher outbid the scoundrel, but is thwarted when he has to reveal to the auctioneer that he doesn’t actually have any money.

So Rogers gets the horses anyway, but Miss Allen is pleased by Ben’s attempted good deed, and invites the vagabond to sleep in her hayloft. In the morning, we discover that The Hobo has gone ahead and stolen the horses anyway, much to Ben’s frustration. It’s a funny inversion of the moment with the dropped bill, where now the human scolds the dog, but their friendship isn’t threatened but this tug-of-war over correct behaviour. By his actions, we again see that The Hobo has no real respect for human laws or social norms, and operates according to private moral principles.  

The episode changes for the dramatic when we learn that the yellow school bus, full of the glowing, white-shirted girls, has become stuck in the middle of a furiously churning river. The bus conductress apologizes for the gaffe, and seems genuinely contrite, though it’s honestly pretty hard to imagine just how she managed to fuck up in such an incredible way. Ben and Hobo pledge their services to the rescue operation. The dog swims a heavy rope out to the girls (who, between their cheering in the early moments, and their panicked entreaties in the climax, are basically only ever seen vocalizing in a chorus of barely-comprehensible squeals, like a flock of birds) who tie it to the bus. Ben ties the other end to the tractor and tries to tow the bus out. No luck; the tractor isn’t powerful enough. The sopping-wet pooch returns to the scene with the solution in tow: he has brought the Clydesdales, who, as we have already seen, are stronger than the vehicle. Once again, the natural world (associated with informal kindness and interspecies friendships) is stronger than the mechanical world (associated with the craven selfishness of Rogers and the moral-blindness of property laws). The girls are saved.

The final scene sees the mayor bestowing honours on the heroes of the hour. The schoolmistress gets an official deed to the horses. Ben is awarded the key to the city, and he greedily declares that he’ll be sticking around for a while. The mayor then tries gift a fancy, glittering dog collar to the canine hero, only to turn around and find its intended recipient already fleeing. Everyone is shocked except Ben, who smiles knowingly, and even becomes the first human friend to receive a fond final look from his erstwhile companion. The tramp seems to understand that a gilded collar is exactly what The Hobo has been trying to avoid.

2.5 stars

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Once Bitten, Twice Shy (ao3 link) Fandom: Flash, DC's Legends (characterization) Pairing: gen; some background hints of Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Leonard Snart doesn't trust easy, but his aunt Noga - who some people call Nora - assures him that the man she married, Henry Allen, is a good one.

So when Len sees in the newspaper that Henry Allen has been arrested for killing his wife, he has only one thought.

"I'm going to kill him."

A/N: For @oneiriad, who requested this to be cheered up from the season finale. I...tried?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When Len was very small, he liked to play tag with his aunt Noga. She was his mother’s half-sister – much, much younger than his mom, more of an elder sister than an aunt, a product of an affair which a rich white man who’d adopted Noga for his own when he found out.

He called her Nora, not Noga, because he said it was more “American”, but Len’s mother and grandmother cheerfully ignored him and continued to call her the name of her birth, though they permitted him to take her away so she could have what they called a better life.

Len figured it was because she was rich now. Respectable. But she was still his aunt.

When Len got a little older, and his dad went to prison and came back different, things changed. The rich man didn’t like his baby girl associating with criminals, so Noga couldn’t come around anymore.

One day, Len had taken the bus all the way to Noga’s house in the nice part of town.

“Can I live with you?” he asked. “I don’t wanna be at home anymore.”

She’d taken one look at his black eye and the ginger way he walked, and she’d let him right in.

They’d managed two whole days, Len hiding in Noga’s room and her bringing him food and stuff to read, before Noga’s father found out and kicked Len out, yelling that he wouldn’t ever permit his daughter to be associated with such filthy trash, that he’d get a restraining order, that Len would go to jail if he ever saw her again.

Noga had sobbed and begged, but nothing had helped.

Len had gone home, and his dad hadn’t been happy with him, either.

That’d been the first time it was bad enough for him to have to go to the hospital.

Len’s mother decided it was time to leave, even though she was so very sick by now.

Len will never be sure if her death a week later, diagnosed as either natural causes or, at worst, an accidental overdose of her medication, was natural. He doesn’t like to think about it.

He doesn’t think about it, for years and years.

It’s not until later – much later, when he has Lisa to think of and he’s gone to juvie and back once already – that he sees Noga again. She’s wearing a college shirt, some fancy place out east, and she’s holding hands with some big guy and smiling.

Len feels the shame in his thrift store clothing and his ragged jeans but – family is family.

He goes up to them and says to the guy, “You’d better be treating her right.”

The guy bristles a little – he’s a wealthy college white boy, after all, and they don’t take too kindly to young poor black men telling them anything, no matter how pale their complexion – but Noga recognizes him immediately, shrieking and wrapping her hands around him. “Lenny! Lenny!”

He hugs her back.

“You know him?” the guy says, good humor restored, though he’s still wary.

“My nephew,” she says, wiping her eyes. “Oh, Lenny – my dad said he’d sent you away!”

“He did,” Len says, puzzled. “Back to my house.”

“No – he said you’d left the city! And then Hagit died and he wouldn’t even let me go to her funeral and – oh, Lenny.”

Len softens. He’d never liked her dad anyway, and he has plenty of experience with bad dads. He guesses he can’t hold her long absence against her after all.

“Henry Allen,” the guy says, sticking out a hand. “We’re both pre-med, Columbia. What’re you?”

Len stares at him. “Poor,” he says.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m poor,” Len clarifies. “I ain’t in college.”

“…oh.”

“You dating this bozo?” Len asks Noga, nodding at him.

She blushes, which Len takes as a yes.

“Don’t,” Len says. “Oblivious rich boys like this, they’ll just turn into your dad. Or worse, mine.”

Henry looks offended.

“Oh, no,” Noga says. “Henry’s nothing like that.”

Len snorts. “Yeah,” he says. “And your sis thought my dad was a nice good man, just ‘cause he was a cop, and look where that got her, huh? A grave, that’s what.”

“I assure you,” Henry says stiffly. “I am not abusive. And I am very much in love with Nora.”

Len arches his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. No one can convince a woman in love that her man’s wrong.

Noga reaches out and grabs Len’s hands. “Come to lunch with us,” she says. “I insist. You can keep an eye on Henry.”

“Nora!” Henry protests.

“He’s my nephew,” Noga says, steel in her tone. “And he’s worried about me. He deserves a chance to see that you’re the good man I know you are.”

He’s still pouting. He’s used to being given the benefit of the doubt, a nice young man, upstanding and smart and follows all the rules. Police probably let him walk off crime scenes with a promise that he’ll come back later to give his testimony.

Hell, police probably don’t even stop him.

“If it’s a problem, Henry,” Noga says, pleasant as can be, “then perhaps Leonard and I should go to lunch by ourselves.”

Len loves his aunt.

“No,” Henry says hastily. “I’m happy to come along.” He takes a moment and visibly masters himself, swallowing away his annoyance, and he’s pleasant for the rest of the day.

Len has to give him one thing, though; no matter how often he goes to check on her, Henry – who becomes a surgeon, of all hoity-toity things, while Noga goes into chemistry – is madly in love with her.

He’s in love with her when they’re dating.

He’s in love with her at their wedding, which Len sneaks Lisa out of pre-school to attend – she gets to be the flower girl – and which Len’s dad never finds out about.

He’s in love with her, overwhelming in love with her, when their child is born. Lisa loves having a cousin who’s nearly her age, though she insists the difference between five and newborn is immense and uncountable and this makes her old now.

He’s in love with her when they buy a house in Central City – far away from his parents in the east coast, but in the city she loves best.

He’s in love with her when their boy, Barry, grows up, and he never hits him, not once. Lisa writes him letters – they’re pen-pals, once Barry’s old enough to learn his alphabet – because despite the fact that they’re in the same city, Len’s dad has forbidden them to contact each other.

Len visits only rarely – he’s often in prison, in those early years – but Henry never forbids it, even though Len’s a criminal. Len can see it on his face that he wants to, but Noga insists and he’s madly in love with her and so he agrees.

Sure, he’s on the phone with his cop buddy from down the street an unusually high number of times, but Len makes sure never to be seen by said cop buddy. He doesn’t want to welcome street harassment for his legal activities, and he knows how cops like to close ranks around their friends and think that harassment – little arrests here, traffic stops there – is just a way of showing their affection for their friends, and fuck the law and human rights violations involved.

Henry’s so in love, in fact, that Len starts to feel comfortable with him. The surgeon who spends his free time staffing a clinic for homeless and low-income patients; the father who makes sure to spend time at home to help Noga with the house and to play with Barry; the husband who loves his wife so much a blind man could see it on his face.

That’s what makes it all the worse when Len wakes up to Lisa running into his apartment sobbing, holding out the paper, and the front cover is Henry Allen being taken to prison for the murder of his wife, Nora Allen.

Len is very, very still and something inside of him is very, very cold.

“I’m going to kill him,” he says.

“Good,” Lisa replies.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s not easy, of course. Henry Allen is under strict police custody during his trial, and spends much of his first few months segregated from the prison population. Besides, Len doesn’t want to have him killed. He wants to kill him.

He’s got plans in motion, though. The second Henry Allen is released into gen pop, Leonard Snart is going to get caught for a minor violation that’ll put him in the can just long enough to make his feelings on the matter very clear.

But first, Len figures he’d better check in on his cousin. He remembers losing a mother.

Barry’s been taken in by the cop – of course – but Len knows how cops work. A cop radio, Lisa getting her friends to start shit, and he’s off on an all-night shift.

The house is pathetically easy to break into, especially once he’s cut the phone line.

Ends up being a good idea, because the cop’s daughter goes straight for the phone.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he tells her. “Cross my heart and swear to die.” He even does the cross. Lisa’s trained him good; she's only a few years older than these kids.

She stops and stares. “What type of thief are you?”

“A very good one,” he says. “Except for the fact that I’m not here to steal anything.”

“Yeah, and you’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell me, too,” she shoots back, edging towards the kitchen. Probably for a knife or a back-up gun.

Cute kid.

He rolls his eyes. “How’s Barry doing?” he asks her.

That makes her pause. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Iris West. Barry’s best friend since he was six,” Len says. “You walk to school with him every day. He must’ve mentioned his criminal cousin pen-pals at some point.”

Her eyes go wide. “Wait,” she says. “You’re –”

“Cousin Lenny?” Barry says, coming in through the door. “Cousin Lenny!”

He practically tackles Len.

“Ouch,” Len says, staggering back a bit. “Yeesh, kid, you got big.”

Barry is crying.

Len kneels down. “Hey, hey,” he says. “There we go. I’m here. Cry all you like, kiddo.”

“Why didn’t you just come in the normal way?” Iris says crossly. “I thought you were a robber.”

“Not stealing, so no robbery,” Len says. “Technically still B&E. And family or no family, turns out your dad isn’t the type to be a-okay with criminals coming in here where you are.”

Len didn’t actually ask Joe West for permission, but that was because he knew he’d refuse.

Sure enough, Iris wrinkles her nose and nods. “Yeah,” she says. “He’s overprotective that way. You’re Nora’s brother, right?”

“Nephew, but yeah,” Len says, ignoring the name.

“Good,” she says. "As long as you're not Henry's."

“Don’t say that!” Barry shouts. “My dad didn’t do it! It wasn’t him!”

Len blinks.

“Well,” he says. “Damnit. Now I’m going to have to change my revenge plans. Who did do it?”

“You won’t believe me,” Barry says. He's shaking.

“Barry has trauma,” Iris says with the sort of self-importance that kids that age get when they’re talking about grown-up stuff. “He imagined a man appearing in a bolt of lightning. He’s seeing a shrink about it.”

“I did see a man in the lightning,” Barry whispers, his lip quivering. “I did. It wasn’t Dad.”

“It was, Bear,” Iris says, not without sympathy, but with the sort of nose-in-the-air bullcrap that someone who doesn’t even remember her only experience with severe trauma can pull.

Len’s grown up his whole life being told that his dad wasn’t really abusive. He will never be party to that sort of gaslighting, not even when it sounds right.

“If Barry says he saw a man in the lightning, he saw a man in the lightning,” Len says firmly.

“You believe me?” Barry asks, shocked.

“If you’re sure it was that man and not your dad, then yeah,” Len says. "I'll give you the benefit of a doubt."

Barry bursts into tears again and hugs Len tight.

“You really think so?” Iris asks, sounding doubtful but also like she’s got a bit of belief still left in her.

“Two words,” Len says to her. “Special effects.”

She looks taken aback, like she never considered the possibility of someone manufacturing the effect. “Oh,” she says. “Oh! So it could’ve been something else, not something supernatural or magic?”

“Any technology that’s advanced enough looks like magic,” Len points out. “You take a television to someone raised in Amish country, they’ll think you captured an image of the people in a box.” He’s pretty sure that’s actually an urban legend, but whatever, Iris is nodding now. “I’ve used flash-bang grenades myself –” Once, and it was an accident. “– and there’s all sorts of people in Central who could’ve accessed some new tech that you and me don’t know about. We’ve got all those big old lab with the military contracts, after all.”

“That’s true,” Iris says. “Oh, Barry, I’m so sorry for not believing you!”

“It’s okay,” Barry says, wiping his eyes. “You think Joe’ll listen now?”

The way Iris hesitates is perfectly clear to Len.

The answer is no.

“Your dad ever hit you?” he asks her.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh, no! Never!”

“What about calling you names?”

She shakes her head.

“Good,” Len says. “If he ever does anything like that – and I mean anything, from yelling to controlling your money to saying you can’t do shit that’s perfectly reasonable for your age – you find a way to let me know, okay?”

“My dad isn’t like that,” Iris says. Her lip’s quivering.

“But he’s happy to tell Barry he’s nuts, isn’t he?” Len says pointedly. “Tell other people he’s nuts, too. You know what happens after that? First it starts with ‘you’re lying’. Then it goes to ‘you’re nuts’ or ‘you’re bad’ because the kid doesn’t change his story. Then it gets worse.”

“Worse?” Barry and Iris chorus.

Len’s lip twists in disgust. “Yeah,” he says. “A buddy of mine, he’s got some issues, but his foster parents got the shrink to put him on drugs that make him all dead inside. They like it better when he doesn’t have the energy to move or nothing, says it makes him less trouble. And if they can’t find drugs that’ll do it, they send you to an institution. A nuthouse. And they do real bad things to you there.”

“That won’t happen!” Iris exclaims. “Barry, tell him.”

But Barry – Barry’s shaking. “They said,” he whispers. “Joe and the state psychologist and the district attorney, they said I had severe trauma and that maybe it’d be better for me to be put under observation.”

“Where?” Len asks, deeply alarmed.

“I dunno. Some hospital.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Len says. Iris has her hand over her mouth in horror, but she’s nodding.

“You can’t,” she says, tears in her eyes. “I saw One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest last week –”

“Iris, Joe said not to!”

“I went over to Lily and Louie’s house and we saw it there, because their parents respect our maturity. But, Barry, you can’t let them do that to you!”

“I won’t let it happen,” Len repeats, even though he’s also seen that movie and he really hopes it’s all Hollywood exaggeration. He’s not taking any chances, though. “Barry, you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“You’re coming with me,” Len says. He hadn’t expected to have to, but damnit, he’s going to. “Iris, can you just say that Barry ran off? I’ll have my baby sister Lisa write you letters saying he’s okay and giving you a number you can contact us with.”

Iris nods. “You’d better,” she says.

“Barry, get some stuff.”

“It’s still in the bags,” Barry says. “I never unpacked…”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Iris waves them goodbye. “I won’t tell Dad,” she says.

“Tell him what you like,” Len says. He hesitates. “Actually, there is one thing you could do. Could you tell him this happened around 10 o’clock?”

Iris blinks. “Sure,” she says.

“Thanks. We’ll lay low till the heat passes – expect us to contact you,” he thinks about it, “on the first of the next month. Okay?”

She nods.

“C’mon, Barry.”

He drives him to Mick’s place, where Lisa is currently crashing. Barry runs over and hugs her, too.

Mick looks vaguely mystified. “I thought you were just gonna check if he’s okay?” he asks.

“I need you to watch him,” Len says. “Part B is going into effect now.”

“But –”

“Sorry, buddy. Just me this time. I need you to watch Barry.” Len hesitates, lowers his voice. “They were talking about institutionalizing him.”

Mick’s eyes narrow. He didn’t talk about his time being involuntary institutionalized much, but Len knew it was a sore spot.

“I’ll watch ‘em,” Mick promises.

“Good,” Len says, and goes to get himself arrested. He swings by the kitchen and gets some vodka first.

Chugging it is not the worst experience of Len’s life – he has too many to compare to – but it’s vile regardless.

Given Len’s malnutrition-derived underweight body, it doesn’t take long for his blood alcohol level to get up there. Len feels sick, but he’ll fail a test, and Mick is even now calling their favorite bar to get someone to testify that Len’s been drinking there all evening. They’ve already created the doctored footage – last week, thank god – so they’ll just slap it into their video camera recording.

It takes four attempts for Len to get caught shoplifting.

Seriously. How often can he stagger in and out of the goddamn door before they notice?

The police that come and arrest him behave just as he expects them to: they arrest him (violently), then they take his statement (drunk at a bar, didn’t realize he was doing it), and then they go check the bar.

By the time Joe West storms into the station, yelling about Leonard Snart having broken into his house and kidnapped his foster kid, Leonard Snart has been cooling his heels in the police cells for hours and hours.

Best alibi in the world.

It doesn’t take long for Iris to crack about the timeline, but by that point, the cops have checked Len’s alibi with the bar for the earlier time period.

“Sorry, Joe,” someone says not far outside of Len’s cell. “It wasn’t him.”

“Snart’s smart,” Joe argues. “Why’d he ask her to change the timeline?”

“Joe…”

“What?!”

“Joe, we have video evidence of him getting snookered in a bar in downtown during the period she says it’s supposed to have happened.”

“So it’s doctored!”

“Joe, you said yourself your kid was having trouble telling the truth.”

“What – no! That was Barry, not Iris!”

“You know how kids are that age, Joe! Barry lies all the time, Iris starts picking it up. He probably just ran away from home.”

“But – Iris –”

“I’m telling you, Joe. Traumatized kids lie, we all know that, and we also know how they can get people into it. Iris probably thinks she’s doing Barry a favor. I mean, you heard her! The poor kid got it into his head he was going to be tossed into a mental asylum.”

Joe scrubs at his face. “Yeah, I know. I guess he overheard us talking about putting him into a hospital for some supervision and misunderstood. But Snart’s where they got the idea! If we hold him -”

“We can’t hold him,” the other guy says firmly. “Not on Iris’ testimony. Her story keeps changing, and, well…it’s not going to hold up well in court, okay? I’m telling you now, no DA in the world will pen him for kidnapping.”

Len has thrown up like three times at this point, so he’s feeling sour.

“Hey, Detective!” he yells. “You got something against me, huh? Bet you killed the kid yourself and stuffed him down a hole somewhere and thought hey, that Snart guy, I can pin it on him. Bet you that’s what happened!”

The match hits the fuse.

Joe barrels into Len’s cell and grabs him by the throat, throwing him against the wall. “Where’s Barry?” he bellows. “Where’s Barry, you sick sonofabitch?”

“Barry?” Len chokes. “What about Barry?” He’s feeling really sick again. “What happened to Barry?”

“You know exactly what happened to Barry, you fucking –”

Len throws up all over him.

West steps back in disgust.

“Barry,” Len says groggily. “He’s – I think knew a Barry once. I never touched a Barry.” He feels his eyes fill with tears. It happens a lot when he’s drinking. “That hurt, man.”

By that point, the other cops have burst in and are pulling Joe away. “Damnit, Joe, you can’t do that!” one is hissing. “That’s police brutality!”

Damn right it is.

“I’m telling you,” Joe is saying. “He knows Barry. They were cousins.”

“What, with Snart?” another policeman scoffs. “Henry Allen and Lewis Snart lived on as far apart on the scale as you can get, Joe. You’re reaching.”

“I swear! Henry told me they were!”

“Henry,” the first policeman says skeptically. “Henry Allen. The guy that murdered his wife. That’s the guy you’re trusting with this.”

Joe falters.

Len can see the doubt creeping in.

Serves you right, Len thinks at him fiercely. Gaslighting Barry. Hope you like it when it’s your turn, motherfucker.

He happens to know that Noga’s dad had her birth certificate changed to list no mother at all in order to make sure that Len’s family would never be able to establish any claim to her.

Len hopes for Barry’s sake that Henry Allen is, in fact, innocent. But he’s not going to trust the justice system’s conclusions with it, oh no.

He doesn’t have long now, though. Len might only have been caught with attempted shoplifting, mitigated by his drunkenness, but with his record he’s still getting tossed in the clink. He’s betting a week, maybe two. Just to scare him straight.

Just enough time to have a little chat with Henry Allen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry Allen is a broken man.

Len paid good money to make sure nothing would happen to him in prison, so he knows it’s nothing like that.

No, this is a man who’s lost everything: his wife, his son, his job, his standing in the community, everything.

The key question, though, is why.

Through his own actions? Through someone else’s?

Len makes his way straight to him.

Henry doesn’t look up until Len’s right in front of him.

When he does, he just looks tired and sad. “Hi, Leonard,” he says. “Here to talk about Nora?”

Len arches his eyebrows. “Did you kill her?”

Henry looks taken back, honestly taken aback, that Len doesn’t go straight for the killing portion of the events, much less than Len seems to be asking a question on the subject.

“The courts –” Henry starts.

“Fuck the courts,” Len says flatly. “And fuck the police, too. Did you kill her?”

Henry exhales. “No,” he whispers. “When I got there, she’d already been stabbed. She was trying to get the knife out, but that would’ve made her bleed out right away. There wouldn’t have been any hope. So I went to her - I held the knife in so that she wouldn’t lose any more blood – I was trying to save her –” He closes his eyes. “And in the end all I could do was tell her I loved her as she slipped away from me.”

Damnit.

Len believes him.

Len’s met murderers of all stripes. This man here has a good story, and he’s not a murderer.

“Okay,” Len says. “Right. We’re getting you out of here.”

Henry looks surprised. “You believe me?”

“Yes, I believe you,” Len says somewhat impatiently. “Not the point here.”

“I’m not going to run away,” Henry says.

“Why not?”

“People will take that as an admission of guilt.”

“They already think you’re guilty,” Len points out.

Henry presses his lips together. “I can’t,” he says.

“Why not?”

“Barry,” Henry says. “If I go on the run, who knows what’ll happen? This way he can come visit me sometimes.”

Len shrugs. “It’ll take me a few weeks to plan your break-out,” he says. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

It takes a week before Joe West gives in and comes to tell Henry Allen that Barry has apparently “run away”.

He doesn’t mention Len’s involvement, despite Len being careful not to be seen with Henry. Looks like Joe’s swallowed Len’s carefully manufactured story.

Henry comes back distressed.

Len sidles up to him. “So,” he says. “I’m getting out in a couple of days.”

“Oh? Oh! Leonard – you have to – Barry’s missing – if you could look for him –”

“How ‘bout I break you out and you can do the looking?” Len suggests.

“I couldn’t! What if he comes back?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Len feels a bit bad playing this game, but he can’t trust that Henry wouldn’t trade Len’s kidnapping effort in to Joe West under the assumption that the cop would be a better foster father than a criminal and with the hope of some reduction of his sentence. Once Henry’s out, Len’s pretty confident that he won’t turn them all in – he’d never be allowed to see Barry again, and that seems to be the only thing that gets him moving anymore.

It takes two days for Henry to break.

“You’re sure you won’t look for him? He’s your cousin.”

“Not without you,” Len says firmly. “He only knows me so well; I will not be accused of kidnapping for you.”

Truer than Henry realizes.

“Fine,” Henry says, his head in his hands. “Fine! You win. I’ll go.”

“Great,” Len says. “Be at your cell promptly every evening for the next week. And I mean promptly. I want you to be the first on in, come nighttime.”

“But you’re leaving in two days!”

“Henry. Did I stutter?”

“Uh…”

“I was clear, wasn’t I?” Len amends.

“Yes.”

“Good. Do it.”

Leonard Snart is sitting in the Motorcar, having a stack of pancakes and exchanging glares with a handful of policemen, when the latest Iron Heights break out occurs.

There are said to be four escapees, three of them blooded Family men – and oh, doesn’t that make Len feel dirty – and one hostage, another prisoner, grabbed from his cell and held at knife-point.

After, Len gets up and gets onto his bike and drives out to a house in the middle of nowhere in the suburbs, where there’s a dusty blue sedan parked.

He goes inside.

“Snart!” Lil Billy exclaims, grinning all gap-toothed. “That plan of yours worked like a dream.”

“Of course it did,” Len drawls, slapping Billy’s hand, all friendly smiles like they didn’t all know he had a gun in his pocket and his other hand on the hilt. “I made it.”

“You’re good at what you do,” Grissini says neutrally. “Could be an asset.”

“I prefer to fly free,” Len says. “You get me what I want?”

Grissini snorts and gestures for Billy and Marino to go. “A set of plans and one hostage. Why’d you want this one?”

“He’s unpopular at large and he’s harmless,” Len says. “How often do you see that?”

Grissini purses his lips, but has to concede Len’s point.

Henry is dragged into the room looking terrified and shoved at Len.

“Much obliged,” Len drawls. “Be seeing you.”

“I’m sure too soon,” Grissini says dryly, but turns back to his poker game. They won’t move until the Family comes to pick them up.

Len makes a show of dragging Henry to the car.

“I hate you,” Henry wheezes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Len says. “I said I’d get you out, not that you’d enjoy it. They put you in the trunk or something?”

“No!”

“Then what’s all the fuss about?”

Henry shakes his head. “So I’m out,” he says. “You said you’d help me find Barry.”

“Yeah,” Len says. “First we go home and get changed, yeah?”

Henry’s shoulders slump. “But then we find Barry.”

“Yeah,” Len says again, then doesn’t speak the rest of the way to Mick’s place.

“What’s this place?” Henry asks, squinting at the apartment like it was infested.

“Safe,” Len says shortly. He won’t hear a word against this place; Mick’s had it for years, and it has always been one of the safest places in the world to him.

Then they go inside and Henry takes no more than three steps in before Barry leaps up from the couch and yells, “Dad!”

“Barry!”

There’s hugging and crying and ‘I know you’re innocent’ and ‘I’ve missed you’ and all of that stuff.

It’s very cute. Somewhat sickening and over-emotional, but very cute.

Len ducks out to the kitchen to avoid it.

Lisa and Mick follow in short order. Len hopes his face doesn’t have the same deer-in-headlights look they have.

“So what do we do with them?” Lisa asks.

“Cops’ll be looking for both,” Mick agrees.

Len sighs and runs his hand over his head, a gesture he normally doesn’t allow himself. “I was thinking they’d lie low. Mick, do we still have that place up in the mountains?”

“Sure,” Mick says. “Kinda in the middle of nowhere, though. Very back-to-nature off-the-grid-but-still-connected sort of thing; that’s why we got it.”

“You’d hate that,” Lisa tells Len.

“I thought we might need a place to lie low where I’d never go,” Len says with a shrug. “No one would ever look for me there. It used to be a smuggler’s joint, so lots of nooks and crannies, and a hell of an encrypted internet connection.”

“No schools, though,” Lisa points out.

“Actually,” Mick says, “there’s one down the ways. About three quarters of an hour out, which is crap, but it’s still a school.”

“We’ll need Barry’s records to fake the new ones right,” Len says. “Maybe he finishes this year homeschool; next year we can put him somewhere. Assuming it’s all going well in a year.”

Mick and Lisa nod. “School year,” Lisa notes. “Not a full year – barely six months, really; it’s the end of the school year.”

“Yeah,” Len says. “But that’ll be long enough, I think.”

Two hours later, they head out in a car, Barry and Henry curled up in each other’s arms in the back seat.

Mick knows all the ways to avoid the cops, and they make it to the place in peace.

“This place is a dump,” Lisa announces.

“It’s nicer on the inside.”

“It’s made of wood.”

“So’s the house in the suburbs,” Len points out.

“Too many trees.”

“We’re in a forest.”

Barry starts giggling from the backseat.

“Have you two considered a career in comedy?” Henry asks dryly.

“Shut up,” Len grumbles.

They go inside.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Against all odds, the set-up works surprisingly well.

Henry develops a fondness for fishing. He spends long days out by the stream out back, leaning back on the large rock next to the slow-moving water-mill that Len and Mick had initially thought was for decoration but which Henry had discovered was actually designed to serve as an electricity source, eyes half-closed and smiling.

Sometimes he even brings home fish.

Barry spends half the time on the internet sending emails back and forth with Iris and the other kids in his brand new online class – Len doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t want to know – and the other half of his time running around the forest.

The other half – Barry believes in many halves – is spend as the ‘hub’ for some sort of network of people into the supernatural and preternatural and all that stuff. Len hadn’t been able to find any new military technology or thief work that could explain what Barry saw, so he’d returned to his original theory.

And Barry is obsessed with solving his mom’s murder.

Obsessed.

They have to take some precautions with their identities, of course: Henry grows a beard, looking quite proud of himself, while Lisa gives Barry a makeover.

He makes a surprisingly excellent redhead.

Len and Mick keep up their heists – first order of business, making sure they have no more connections to that Family group – and eventually move up the chain to bigger and better heists.

Barry really likes the Van Gogh sketch in his bedroom until Len tells him it’s real.

At that point, he loves it.

Henry tells Len that he’s a bad influence.

Len points out that his bad influence is why they’re all here.

Henry concedes the point.

He does put a pretty strict “no stealing until you’re sixteen” rule on Barry, which Len thinks is fair and Lisa thinks is hilarious.

Mick insists that teaching Barry to blow up safes isn’t criminal, it’s just homeschooling. In chemistry. Practical applications thereof.

Henry tries to lecture him but keeps breaking out in guffaws about halfway through.

Barry looks proud.

The months drag on, and on, and the next thing you know, it’s been a year.

Barry’s enrolled in the school down the way, which is less a school than a socialization mechanism for kids too far out in the middle of nowhere to be anything but homeschooled, and supplementing it with online courses. Henry’s taking classes online as well, continuing medical education classes, and Len and Mick and Lisa know they have a safe place to come if they’re ever hurt.

Len likes coming to the cabin, which bemuses the living daylights out of him.

On the anniversary of her death, they light a candle in remembrance of Noga.

The next day, Mick comes home with the strangest expression on his face.

“Barry,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“The man in the lightning…”

“Yeah?”

Mick swallows. “I think I saw him.”

Barry sits up straight. “You did?”

“How’s that?” Len says, alarmed.

“It wasn’t anything dangerous, Lenny, don’t fret,” Mick says. “It was just on the street. Zip of lightning, going through the streets.” He frowns. “I think he was looking for somehting.”

“Something,” Len says grimly. “Or someone?”

“What do you mean?” Barry asks.

“We still don’t know why your family was targeted,” Len says. “We always thought – well, Mick and I did – that someone’d gotten something wrong. But if the man in the lightning is looking for someone, well, why not you and Henry? Maybe he wants to finish the job.”

“But why us?” Barry says. “And – do you think he’ll find us?”

“What, here? Not a chance. But let’s avoid trips into Central for a bit, shall we?”

Barry pouts. “But it’s nearly summer break. What am I going to do?”

Len thinks about it.

He come back the next day with custom-made passports and tickets to Europe.

“You are the best,” Barry enthuses.

“You are terrible,” Henry says.

“I have an idea,” Len says.

“Oh god,” Lisa says.

But in the end, they go. They land in Barcelona and get a car and drive from motel to hotel and back. They visit castles and museums and fancy shops – Len and Mick take care to do their own form of shopping when the others are asleep – and Barry proudly takes over the role of navigator, spreading a paper map across his lap and supplementing it with computer print-outs.

He also functions as a guide tour, given how much research he does about everywhere they go.

Henry turns out to be marginally fluent in French, which is good because Mick knows Spanish and Lisa learned Italian in school, so they’ve very nearly got a whole run. Len is fluent in nothing but mime but ends up being the one who does 90% of their transactions anyway.

They go back to Central two months later, suitcases full and several museums calling for their heads on a platter.

“That was so much fun,” Barry says.

“It really was, slugger,” Henry says, ruffling his hair.

“I want to know what the plan was,” Lisa says.

“I’m getting to it,” Len replies.

He has pictures from all over Europe, now. He picks the ones from Spain, where Henry had shaved again because of an incident with a pig that was really best forgotten by all, and from Prague, where they’re all in the shade; Barry looks like his old brunet self in those.

He hires a patsy – Charlie is always happy to do him a favor, regardless of the reasonableness of it, and Len isn’t worried about him getting seriously hurt because Charlie is like a cockroach like that – and waits.

Charlie’s not good for much, but he’s a good salesperson when he wants to be, and he’s an excellent gossipmonger.

Rumors that Henry Allen has been spotted get no takers.

Len gives it a week, then tells Charlie to go with Option B.

It takes less than twenty-four hours after the rumors that Barry Allen has been spotted for the man in yellow to show up, grabbing Charlie by the throat and demanding to know what he knows.

“I don’t know much,” Charlie wheezes. “I just saw – the pictures –”

“Pictures?” the man in yellow snaps. He’s vibrating too fast to be properly seen on the video cameras Len set up in the bar he’d left Charlie in, but it’s obviously a man, in yellow, surrounded by lightning. “What pictures?”

“He sent them to his old school – for the yearbook – they’re in the bag –”

Flash of lightning, and the man is at the table, going through the pictures.

“Prague,” he growls. “What’s he doing in Prague?”

Flash of lightning, and the man is gone.

Running to Prague, if Len had to guess.

Charlie rubs his throat. “Hope you got what you needed, Lenny,” he says, good cheer restored almost immediately. “Are we still on for that date on Friday?”

Len sighs.

The sacrifices he makes.

He picks up the phone and dials Charlie.

“Yeah?” Charlie says.

“We’re on,” Len says. “As long as you realize that Mick will interrupt us about fifteen minutes in and drag me away because he hates you and wants you to die.”

“Oh, yes,” Charlie says. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Len doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t want to know.

He has what he needs, anyway: knowledge of who the man in the lightning is really after and video proof of his existence.

Barry cries for an hour straight when Len brings the tapes home.

“I knew it,” he whispers into Henry’s shoulder. “I knew it.”

“You were right,” Henry says, kissing him on the head. He smiles at Len. “Thanks, Leonard.”

Len quirks a smile. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “We still need to figure out what to do about it.”

Barry pops his head up. “We prove my dad’s innocent, of course!”

“Innocence is overrated,” Len says. “Keeping you safe from this guy, Barry; that’s a lot more important.”

“I agree,” Henry says. He quirks a small smile. “Besides, Barry, remember: escaping from prison and kidnapping is also a crime.”

“…oh. Okay, maybe we don’t do that.”

Henry looks up at Len and Mick. “Thank you,” he says. “For believing in us. For helping us.”

Len shrugs. “For Noga,” he says, “I’d do a lot more. We’re gonna get the bastard that killed her, one way or another.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s Lisa that figures it out.

“Harrison Wells,” she says. “He either is or is connected to the man in yellow.”

“Why in the world do you think so?” Henry asks.

“I worked in construction,” she says. “More than the two of these guys ever did.” She nods at Len and Mick.

“I worked construction,” Mick protests mildly.

“No, babe, you did illegal labor construction.”

“Still construction.”

“Well, yes. But I got to sit in the nice cool office and listen to the architects and civil engineers prattle on all day, and that’s more valuable than you might think. For instance, I can tell you that there is no way that STAR Labs Particle Accelerator whatsit is being built legit.”

“Of course it ain’t being built legit,” Len says. “It’s Central City. Half of City Hall needs to be bribed before you can flip a light switch.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s being built too fast. Labor is labor, okay; but that thing is growing in leaps and bounds.”

“You drop a camera?”

“Of course,” Lisa sniffs. “What sort of girl do you think I am, offering suggestions without proof?”

She pulls out a tape. “Evidence that the man in yellow seems to be spending his nights building STAR Labs and –” she pulls out another tape. “– evidence of a yellow blur of lightning running into this very fancy little house over in the more isolated but still fancy suburbs, owned by one Harrison Wells. Running in, mind you, and not running out, only for one Harrison Wells to go out the next day by car to work.”

“Lise,” Len says. “You’re a genius.”

She beams. “And I’m not even in college.”

“I keep telling you,” Henry says, “if you want to go, let me know. We’ll find a way.”

She shakes her head. “I have a good job with the teamsters, Henry, but thanks.”

“Don’t let anyone think that college is necessary to be a genius,” Len says with satisfaction.

“No one who says that’s ever met you,” Barry says loyally.

“Now we just need to figure out how to stop a guy with a suit that lets him run a super-speed,” Len says, and smiles.

“Uh, oh,” Barry says. “Len’s smiling. It’s trouble time.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“Last time you smiled like that, we went sky-diving,” Barry says. “and the time before that, you and Mick robbed the Musée d’Orsay because you thought it ‘didn’t get enough love compared to the Louvre’.”

“Also because it rhymed, Lenny,” Lisa reminds him.

“C’mon,” Len says. “It’s a challenge!”

“It’s a death sentence,” Henry says quietly, and that makes them all shut up. “Leonard, please. I don’t want to lose you like we lost Nora.”

“You won’t,” Len assures him. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

He frowns, thinking. “Hey, Barry, you’re in that advanced robotics summer class online, aren’t you?”

“The MIT one? Yeah.”

“Could you propose a puzzle for them to figure out how to stop a speedster? I’ve got a few ideas, but some tech would always be good.”

“Oh, sure!” Barry says, enthused. “There’s a guy there – Cisco Ramon – he’s fantastic. He’ll totally come up with whatever you like.”

“Where is he?”

“Uh…Central, actually. But I didn’t meet him until the summer class, ‘cause he’s in regular school, you know.”

“Central is good,” Len says. “Let’s see what he can do.”

“It’ll be cold,” Barry says.

“Cold?” Lisa asks. “Why?”

“Cold is the opposite of speed,” Barry says. “Atoms go faster when they’re hotter and vice versa.”

They all look at him.

“I may’ve been doing some research ever since we realized that the lightning was actually because the guy was moving so fast,” Barry confesses. “I mean, we still don’t know if he’s using some sort of technology to do it or what, but…speed is speed, you know!”

“Looks like you’re not the only genius here,” Mick tells Lisa, reaching over to pat Barry’s head.

Barry flushes pink with pleasure.

Possibly also the juvenile crush he’s been nursing on Mick. Not much to be done about that; Mick is – well, Mick.

Barry also seems to have juvenile crushes on Lisa, Len, his old buddy Iris, and possibly also this Cisco guy. It’s just that age.

“Cold it is,” Len says.

“Tell this Cisco guy to make me something that matches in heat,” Mick says.

“That won’t help against a speed-suit,” Lisa points out.

“What’s your point?”

“Right, yeah.”

It takes about three months, but Cisco Ramon - who is, all joking aside, an actual genius - and Barry manage to put their heads together and come up with what Cisco describes as their masterpiece.

"Not to mention soon to be winner of the next young inventor Science fair award and scholarship, am I right?" he says, holding his hand for Barry to high-five.

"Hell yeah," Barry says, obliging. "Science bros for life, man!"

"They're lovely," Len says, examining them. "I love that you put them in gun form; that'll be very helpful."

"Just point and shoot," Barry says proudly.

"I'm sold," Mick says, and reaches for the red one.

They are not point and shoot.

Luckily, no house containing Mick is short on fire extinguishers.

The next two months after that are spent with Len and Mick explaining the nuances of what makes a gun a gun, and how to best marry those must-keep attributes to the cryotron powering the cold gun and the module that powers the heat gun.

"I love you guys and all," Cisco says when the guns are finally done. "Seriously, best family ever, Barry. But please can we call it something other than the cold and heat guns? They've got to have better names than that."

"How about you pick our superhero names instead?" Len offers. "Or supervillain. Just imagine -" he scoops up the cold gun and strikes a pose "- beware, it is I! the fearsome Coldwave!"

"Noooo," Cisco groans. "That doesn't work - the heat gun works on a wave system, not the cold gun! Like, Mick can totally be Heatwave, but you - you're gonna be - hmmm - oh, I know! Captain Cold!"

Len snorts. "Captain Cold," he says. "Cute."

"I like it," Lisa offers.

Cisco promptly turns bright red. He does that every time Lisa speaks.

She finds it adorable. Personally, Len would be over the moon if she dated someone as normal as Cisco.

Though he's going to keep an exceedingly close eye on Cisco for a good long time. Only so many times a man can get bitten before it sinks in.

"Well, names aside, they seem like they work now," Len says. "So let's just let me and Mick borrow 'em for a bit and - with luck - the whole business will be over and done with soon enough."

"Good luck," Cisco says, humor fading to be replace with solemnity that sits badly on his awkward teenage frame.

"Damnit, Barry," Len sighs. "You weren't supposed to tell him the details!"

"It just came up!"

Len rolls his eyes. "You're in, right, kid?" he asks Cisco, who nods eagerly. "Fine. C'mon, Mick; let's go get a man who moves like lightning."

Lisa sidles up to Cisco. "Hey," she purrs. She's only a few years older than Barry and Cisco, but those three years have given her some confidence that Cisco sorely lacks. "Think you can make me a gun, too?"

Len decides not to be here for that discussion.

The trap they have is well-set: more rumors of Barry, this time returned to visit. Recordings of his voice playing at certain locales; the man in yellow has been tearing up the city looking for him, when he isn't speed-building STAR Labs with a manic sort of passion that meant it was tied into his plans somehow.

He's ripping up the storehouse they've led him on a merry dance to - signs of Barry, signs of life, but also evidence of recordings. Of him, of Barry.

The man in yellow is realizing he’s being played for a fool.

He's furious.

Len and Mick look at each other and nod. It's time.

Len steps out. “Hello, there,” he drawls. “Do you have a preferred moniker, or should I just call you Harrison Wells?”

The man in yellow’s head snaps up.

“Well, well,” he drawls in the eerie reverberation that is his voice. “If it isn’t Captain Cold.”

Len blinks. “Now that’s interesting,” he says, eyes narrow. “Literally just thought of that name this morning. How do you know about it?”

The man in yellow scoffs. “Oh, there’s so much you don’t know,” he says. “And yet, I know all about you.”

“Really,” Len says.

“Oh, yes,” the man in yellow says. “Captain Cold. You’re a thief, always out for the score; the most cold-hearted of the Rogues.”

“Rogues?”

The man in yellow waves a hand. “Your little gang, whatever you’re calling them now.”

“How do you know all of this?” Len asks. “Spare an explanation for a curious soul.”

The man in yellow grins. “Oh, your story gets told for centuries,” he says.

Len pauses. No way.

“Time travel?” he asks.

“It’s good to see you have as broad a mind as I was led to believe,” the man in yellow says. “We share the same enemy – not yet, but soon enough. The Flash. He’s a superhero, a speedster like me; he runs this town.” His smile widens. “Not you.”

Len knows a cue when he hears one. He puffs up a little, pretends to get annoyed. “Must say I don’t like the sound of that. Superheroes.”

“Indeed,” the man says. “As one villain to another, I must say, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Eobard Thawne, and I’m from the twenty-ninth century.”

“What’re you doing all the way back here, then?” Len asks. “Seems out of place for you.”

“Oh, not at all! I went back to the twenty twenties to fight the Flash – and oh, what a glorious battle it was; I proved myself to be his true equal, his reverse – but I found I could not defeat him. So I decided to take him out when he was too young to stop me.”

“Barry Allen,” Len says.

“You are smart!” Eobard exclaims.

“Now that’s insulting. So you’re saying you killed Nora Allen?”

“Oh, yes,” Eobard says. “I was aiming for Barry, of course; he was only eleven. But I couldn’t get to him, so I went with the next best thing. I grabbed a knife from his kitchen and stabbed the stupid bitch right in the chest, between the third and fourth rib, and I thought that’d be the end of it – but then the brat went and disappeared!”

“Why does it matter?” Len arches an eyebrow and gestures for Eobard to continue. “Doesn’t that change the timeline enough?”

Eobard’s face twists into a sneer. He pushes down his cowl, revealing Harrison Wells. “Turns out I’m stuck here, in this godforsaken century. Irony of ironies, I need Barry to become the Flash just long enough to get me back to the future.”

“And that’s why you became Harrison Wells,” Len says, nodding. “That way you could manipulate him.”

“And create the Particle Accelerator which turns him into the Flash,” Eobard agrees. “You know, I see why you are so well-known; I must admit, I had always assumed that stories of your prowess were – exaggerated. You’re not much in action by the twenties.”

Len shrugs. “Well,” he drawls. “You know what they say: live fast, die young.”

And then he fires the cold gun at Eobard’s feet.

Eobard dashes around the blast, grabbing Len and hoisting him up by the throat. He tsks, a disappointed schoolteacher. “Now, now. That’s not nice. We could work together –”

Mick’s blast of fire hits him straight-on in the back.

Eobard shrieks and spins around, only for Len to get his gun back up and aim the cold beam straight at him, freezing his legs solid.

“You fool,” Eobard snarls. “You don’t know what I’m offering yet –”

“I don’t care,” Len says. “You say I’m the most cold-hearted of the – Rogues, you called ‘em? The guy who’s only out for the score?”

“Yes, and you’re missing out on –”

“I don’t care about the money,” Len says. “Call it an unintended consequence of time travel.” He ices Eobard’s feet again as they start melting.

“You? Not care about money?” Eobard seems honestly taken aback by the mere concept. Len must have a hell of a reputation.

“Not in this case,” Len tells him. “You killed my aunt.”

“Your – what? When?”

Len’s smile curls up into a sneer. “I think,” he says, “that in your timeline, they call her Nora Allen.”

Eobard’s eyes go wide.

Len ices him straight in the face.

A second later, Mick’s gun comes down, hard, onto the ice, shattering it.

They look down at the pieces.

“For you, Noga,” Len says.

“I think we should burn the pieces,” Mick says.

“…yeah, good idea.”

By the time they get back to the cabin, all the pieces of Eobard melted into a watery muck, Barry – with tears streaming down his face – and Cisco have already managed to cut the video tape in such a way that shows Harrison Wells using some sort of device to make himself go fast and then talking like a crazy person. They do cut out the part with the murder.

“Think it’s enough?” Len asks Henry.

Henry nods. “I’ll send it to Joe,” he says quietly. “He’ll – he’ll understand.”

Joe does understand, and he understands enough to go not only to the District Attorney but also to the media, turning Henry’s story – the wronged man framed and sent to prison, escaping to save his son and seek the man who did it – into a modern day Count of Monte Cristo.

Hollywood loves the idea, and Central City loves it all the more.

Henry ends up being cleared of the charge of murder and given only parole for the whole “escaping prison” (at least, not returning – it’s obvious to anyone who looked that Henry hadn’t escaped willingly) and kidnapping his own son points. No jury would convict him and the DA knows it.

Len’s willing to admit he might’ve underestimated Joe West. Just a bit.

He accepts Joe punching him in the face with decent grace, though.

They’re all celebrating, one dark and stormy night, when Cisco suddenly frowns.

“Hey,” he says.

“What’s up, Cisco?” Barry asks, going over to open up the skylight. There’s still thunder, but no more rain, and the loft is getting a bit stuffy.

“It just occurred to me – has anyone done anything about the Particle Accelerator thing Wells was talking about?”

“He was delusional,” Lisa reminds him.

“No, but, he actually was making a Particle Accelerator. At STAR Labs, remember?”

“So?” Barry says.

He pulls the chain to open the skylight.

“I’m just saying –”

There’s a giant flash of light and a great big boom, and Len can see out the window some sort of mushroom cloud right over STAR Labs – orange and yellow and – expanding –

“It’s coming!” he shouts.

“What?” Barry asks, clutching at the window chain.

And then lightning strikes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“But daaaaad,” Barry whines. “I need to go out and save the city! I’m the Flash!”

“You’re still fourteen, slugger,” Henry says firmly. “And you still have homework.”

“I did my homework!”

“At superspeed, which we both know doesn’t count.”

“But…”

“You’re welcome to stay and help out,” Henry tells Cisco. “Is that a new costume?”

“Yeah, I can’t quite figure out what a superhero called Quake would wear.”

“Is Quake really what you’ve settled on?”

“Well, Lisa vetoed ‘Vibe’ by laughing too hard…”

“Isn’t there a video game, though?”

“As fun as this is,” Len drawls, sweeping out, “I’m going out to bring home the bacon.”

“Like the bad Jew he is,” Mick adds, following him.

“I make plenty of money from my metahuman clinic,” Henry says with a sigh. “I even have interns! Well, I have Caitlin. My point is, you don’t need to go rob a bank.”

“Ah, but we want to go rob a bank. Need to get the city used to having at least one successful villain - well, anti-hero - set. Plus we help Barry out enough against the metas that aren’t handling their new powers well enough that I practically get a pardon every other week.”

“That doesn’t mean you should keep committing crimes.”

“It’s mostly against the Families nowadays anyway,” Mick says. “Profitable and popular.”

Barry looks up, wide-eyed. “Are you going up against Nimbus?” he asks. “Dad! I need to go help!”

“Barry,” Henry says. “How many times have I got to tell you – junior-league superheroing is fine, but no criminal behavior until you’re sixteen.”