#well if i know it'll just be a boring lecture i would skip

[orangerainforest]

🌻

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Barry Allen x Iris West x Leonard Snart (The Flash)

Requested by @wonderdoves

He's not allowed to go anymore. It's all Barry hears in the lecture he gets from Joe when he brings him back from the prison again. Third time this week, he catches, refusing to look at him. Have to stop.

"No," Barry says flatly. And then he's running up the stairs and slamming the door to his bedroom shut. It's not his bedroom. It's just some guest room, currently holding the poor foster kid he had to take in.

True to his word, Barry doesn't stop. He wants to see his dad. He knows he didn't do it, no matter what anyone says. But apparently Joe swayed the prison into not letting Barry visit. Makes a point of telling him as much at breakfast, as if he can sense his plans.

Barry doesn't say a word about it, just eats his cereal in deliberating silence. And as soon as he's done and on the path to school with Iris, he takes a left turn in the wrong direction.

"Barry," Iris says, making him pause to look back at her. Her expression's confused, but her eyes are full of worry. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere," he says, shrugging. Then he takes off.

He's never exactly been the fastest runner. Still, Iris doesn't try to follow. It's good, he wouldn't want to get her in any trouble. He doesn't care the same for himself.

No one questions the little kid wandering the aisles of a store, no one paying enough attention to see him slipping candy bars and strange little juice things barely the size of his hand into his pocket as he goes. Not when he actually has money to pay for the two things he sets on the counter when he's done.

Then it's back to wandering through the streets of the city, but at least he has chocolate now. It's not what he would like to be doing, but it's better than being at school and abiding by all of the dumb rules they're trying to enforce on him because he's "out of control" according to his teachers, and Joe, even the headmaster.

But around comes lunch and he's bored, so he finds himself slipping through a gap in the fence into the playground. He spots Iris. Alone. She's just sitting on the ground, back against the wall, flipping through homework.

It brings a small smile to his face. Approaching her, he sits down beside her unnoticed until he taps her knee with one finger.

She startles and her head whips up, eyes wide. But then she sees it's him and her features relax. Not too much, he notices; she still seems tense.

"I didn't think you were coming," she says, but her voice gives away that she's glad he did.

He starts to respond, mouth opening, but he's cut off by quick and heavy footfalls rounding the corner they're tucked behind.

A couple of boys. One's who have never liked Barry, and Iris through association. He can already tell that this isn't going to end well by the looks on their faces when they come up short and realize they're there.

In all honesty, Barry doesn't catch much of what happens. He's gotten used to tuning insults out that his brain just sort of automatically does it on its own. But he hears the words "mommy", "dead", and "orphan", and none of them are used with all that much sympathy.

Next thing he knows, he's on his feet and swinging for the closest one. His fist makes contact, hard, and he just keeps going. There's blood, he thinks, but he can't figure out where it's coming from as they end up on the ground.

There are rough hands pulling at his shoulders and he thinks Iris' voice is there somewhere. But all he can focus on is the bubbling anger that's been boiling inside of him for weeks now, at the man who really killed his mom, the police, Joe, even his dad for not fighting to see him.

The other boy isn't fighting back, he registers faintly, his hands pushing at him instead to try and topple him. Then a fist makes contact with the side of his face and he falters, thrown off balance.

It's long enough for them to shove him off. His elbow scrapes off the ground and his head hits it with a thud that makes a dull pain shoot through it. But it doesn't feel so bad. It actually feels good. Even the stinging in his hand.

There are shouts now, deeper, older voices. More footsteps hurrying in their direction.

He tilts his head, catching a glimpse of the boy, being carefully hauled up by his friends. There's dark splotches on the ground, and when Barry manages to look at the boy's face, he finds it covered in red. Blood streaming from his nose, his forehead, his mouth, even the back of his head. And he's crying. Kind of screaming, actually.

Barry feels a hand taking his and he looks to his left. He finds Iris next to him. Holding his hand. His hand that's scraped at the knuckles and covered in someone else's blood.

Her eyes are wide and terrified and shining more than he wants them to ever. But she swallows and just holds his hand a little tighter with a smile. One that says I'm with you. No matter what. Even after that. It makes him feel a little less lost and alone.

~

Security cameras. How did he forget to avoid the cameras this time? Because he's eleven, and it just didn't really cross his mind.

But they did. Joe has to talk to other police officers because of it. And because of that kid. A broken nose, concussion, and some damage to his mouth. They said he was lucky there was no permanent damage to his eyes as well.

Barry feels a little stir of regret. He just snapped. But the kid started it, and he didn't even want to be at school in the first place. He wanted to see his dad.

Joe's talking to the principal, too. The parents aren't happy. The store owner isn't happy. Barry hears him try to come to his defence; he's eleven, he's a kid, he's traumatised and grieving, he's in pain, he just needs help and support.

Maybe he's right. But Barry doesn't want his help. He doesn't want his support, because he won't give it to him where it matters most. He still doesn't believe him.

This isn't the first time he's been in trouble.

"He's been caught stealing before," the store owner says.

"He's violent and aggressive and is in fights far too frequently," the principal says.

"He's broken school property." "He's damaged store property." "--public property." "Truancy." "Vandalism." "Theft." "Fights." "Hospital."

"Acting out." "Scared." "I can help him."

"Pressing charges." "Needs discipline." "Out of your control." "Just a foster kid."

Barry chews on the inside of his cheek, biting it until he can taste blood. Iris is silent next to him, but he can feel her fear. Not his own. He's not afraid.

"A juvenile detention facility will just teach him a lesson that he needs to learn. It'll be better for him."

The hearing goes through. A couple hours of community service. It could be worse, Joe reasons. Barry doesn’t say anything.

~

Cleaning graffiti from windows is his punishment. Barry doesn’t entirely think that this is an eleven year old’s job, but apparently complaining about it will only make it worse. Not that he cares either way, but it at least gets him out of that house.

It’s working in silence mostly, the other kids scattered out in the vicinity, doing other jobs. The supervisor is around somewhere, but not close by, fortunately. It’s actually kinda boring. Right up until--

“Psst. Barry.”

He glances around for the source of the familiar voice, and he finds it. Iris’s head, peeking out of an alley on his left. He relaxes, starting to smile, then hesitates.

“What are you doing here, Iris?” he asks, trying his best to sound disinterested, and with real suspicion. A touch of bitterness. “Did your dad send you here to keep an eye on me?”

She looks hurt. “No. I told him I was going to Dinah’s house to study. I just wanted to see you. You’re always in your room.”

Barry softens, and he lets himself smile this time. Iris then glances at the graffiti-ed window and her face scrunches. 

“That doesn’t look fun,” she notes. “At all.”

“Wanna give it a go?” he jokes.

Iris scoffs. “And do it all for you? I don’t think so.”

Barry rolls his eyes, but he laughs. A laugh bubble up out of her chest as well, and it makes his heart skip a beat. As if it’s a few months ago, when everything was good and fine. It feels so familiar.

Then his eyes dart off to the side and he catches sight of a group of boys making straight for him, and he knows he’s in for it. Especially since the leading boy has a black eye and bruised face, and his nose looks a little wrong in some way. And he looks pretty intent on revenge.

“Go,” Barry quickly tells Iris, who’s eyes are wide now that she’s spotted them, too. But she shakes her head. “Run, Iris,” he hisses. “Run. Please.”

She listens. He watches her take off out of the alley and down the street. The boys pay her no mind; she’s not the one they want. Unfortunately for him, he can’t even run away this time unless he wants more hours of service.

Barry swallows, but stays where he is, tilting his head up. A bad move, he decides, because suddenly the kid’s on him and he’s just given him access to land a blow on his jaw.

It hurts. A lot. It throws him enough that he doesn’t have time to react before the boy’s throwing another punch, straight to his stomach this time. It winds him and he doubles over. Then it’s punch after punch, the sharp kick of a shoe. He doesn’t try and fight back.

The numb pain is actually soothing. Like all of the turmoil, the anger that’s been boiling like a brewing storm thundering inside of him, it’s all draining out of him with each blow. 

His head’s starting to feel like it’s detaching from the rest of him and sitting up high on a cloud when there’s a shout. For a moment, he thinks it’s just from one of the boys, probably mistaking a laugh.

“Get out of here unless you want me to show you how this pocket knife works,” an unfamiliar voice says, strangely calm, but low in a dangerous way. “Or I can just get my buddy to light you up. How do you like the sound of feeling your skin sizzling and peeling off your bones until you’re just a puddle of flesh?”

The blows stop coming. Barry faintly catches the sound of hurried footsteps, now running in the opposite direction. Someone actually scared them off, he thinks in disbelief. That’s a first. 

He cracks his eyes open, and it feels like an effort for at least one of them. A boy comes into sight above him, standing over him. His expression matches his voice. Calm, but something dangerous in the cold, glinting eyes. Like ice. 

But he reaches a hand out to him. Barry gingerly takes it, and finds himself faced with Iris appearing at the mystery boy’s side. She’s crying. 

“Your girl ran into me, and she was a mess, so.” The boy waves a hand like it’s a good enough explanation for a question that wasn’t asked. He eyes him, then the window. “Ah. You’re the new kid, right?”

Barry’s eyebrows furrow, his attention divided between taking Iris’ hand to reassure her he’s okay. “Uh, new to...to...?”

“The legal system. Juvie.”

The boy raises an amused eyebrow at him. Barry’s finally able to register details about him and notices that he must be a couple of years older, maybe thirteen, fourteen. Probably why the boys ran off. That, and the good few inches he has on all of them, not to mention the threat of a pocket knife that Barry can’t help but glance at his pockets for any sign of now. Just in case. 

Barry just stays quiet. 

“Thank you for helping...” Iris steps up, raising her chin. She trails off pointedly.

The boy stares for a moment. His eyes that Barry are realizing aren’t just cold like ice, but are the colour of it as well, flick between them. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. 

“Snart,” he answers her silent prompting. “First name’s Leonard, but call me that and I will shiv you. Don’t have to be in juvie to carry one on you.”

Iris’ hand tenses in Barry’s, and admittedly he’s a little intimidated. But then Iris laughs. He glances at her like she’s out of her mind, but the pain in his head must be getting to him, because a slight chuckle escapes him as well.

“Noted,” Barry says.

“Does that mean that people call you Leo?” Iris asks, and she’s teasing. She is teasing the older boy who just threatened a group of kids with a pocket knife and clearly knows his way around the legal system better than them. “Or is it just Snart?”

“No one calls me Leo,” he answers coolly, but there’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I highly doubt I’ll be seeing either of you again. No need to be on an any name basis.”

He turns his stare back to Barry, and something about his expression tells him that his own face isn’t looking so good right now. He winces for him, actually looking almost sympathetic.

“Piece of advice for you, kid,” he says, “run away next time. Or find yourself someone to look out for you. That’s what I did, and I’m still alive.”

He then turns and walks away. Finally, he pulls his other hand out of his pocket, flipping a knife between his fingers like it’s a game. 

Iris tugs on his hand, bringing his attention back to her concerned gaze, her hand gently reaching up to his face but not quite touching.

“Come on, we need to do something about this,” she says, and she makes him abandon his window in favour of finding the supervisor.

~

Barry’s community service is due to end, but apparently skipping out on doing it only lengthens the punishment. He’s sure that stealing a couple more things from a store probably didn’t help. 

Breaking the rules of his community service, they say to Joe. Needs more extreme measures. Isn’t learning anything. Not enough discipline. Barry could already feel what was coming.

His community service doesn’t extend, but becomes a two-week sentence to a juvenile detention facility. Joe tried to fight that, too, but he seems wearier. More hopeless. Like he’s slowly realizing that nothing he’s doing is working on him.

And he hasn’t exactly been too happy about Iris hanging out with him when he’s skipping his hours. Or accepting half a stolen chocolate bar from him, waiting around the corner. Barry doesn’t see the problem. That doesn’t seem to help.

So, when the sentence is given, there isn’t as much of a fight. From Iris, there is, but Barry shrugs it off and says it’s fine. He’s only been at the facility a couple of hours, but it doesn’t feel so bad. There’s a room, and food. 

And it’s boring. 

Then, at last, he gets a sliver of hope that these two weeks aren’t going to be as dull and torturous as they seem. He spots Snart across the room, sat on a table, in conversation with a slightly taller, slightly older, even more intimidating boy. 

It’s probably a huge risk to just approach someone in juvie, Barry thinks. So, he does exactly that. Walks right over to them, practically unnoticed by mostly everyone else as one of the smallest people in the facility. 

“Hey,” Barry says when he reaches them. 

Snart keeps talking, as if he hadn’t heard him. The older boy doesn’t show much acknowledgement either.

Barry considers tapping Snart to get his attention, then remembers the pocket knife, the threat, and just the overall general unspoken rule of not touching anyone in juvie if you want to keep your hands.

He tries again, addressing Snart this time. It works. Snart stops talking, his eyes sliding to him, sharp and like a cat’s narrowing. Recognition flickers in them.

“Beat it, pipsqueak,” the older boy next to him grunts out, menace flashing in his eyes. He doesn’t have the same cold glint, but it’s still harsh, but more blazing, like burning flames rather than ice. 

“Well, well,” Snart says, ignoring his friend’s comment. That same slow smile is curving his mouth as he seizes Barry up with subtle disbelief. “Proved me wrong. Tell me you and that girl didn’t get yourself thrown in here for fun.”

Barry chuckles, but shakes his head. “No."

“You know this kid?” his friend asks in confusion.

Snart shrugs, a tilt of his head. “Stopped a couple of kids from killing him during community service a few weeks ago.” He turns his head, smirking at his friend. “Sound familiar, Mickey?”

His friend grunts again, clearly displeased. “It’s Mick. I’ve told you to cut that out or I’ll shiv you myself, Lenny,” he shoots back, and Snart glares. 

Mick then looks back at Barry. He doesn’t seem any more eager to have him standing there, but he doesn’t protest as much anymore. 

“What’d you do, kid?” he asks. “Set something on fire? Rob a bank?”

“I’m eleven,” Barry says in confusion. “How would I rob a bank?”

Mick shrugs. “Easy. Just--”

“Just, answer the question,” Snart cuts him off, tone somewhat gentle, but sending an exasperated look Mick’s way. He turns back to Barry. “What’d you do?”

“Just stole some stuff,” Barry says flippantly, brushing it off. He pauses. “And... I sort of vandalised a cop car.”

Both of them light up, interested. Mick laughs, and Snart looks fairly impressed. 

“All right,” he says, nodding, then throws a glance around, “and, uh, your girl?”

“Iris isn’t here. Just me.”

Barry can’t help but notice the flicker in Snart’s expression when he mentions Iris’ absence, almost as if he’s disappointed.

“Does just me have a name or am I gonna have to keep calling you pipsqueak?” Mick asks.

“Oh, it’s Barry,” he answers. 

Mick’s eyebrows draw together. “That short for something?”

He’s clearly asking for a reason. One that Barry is not going to give him to him considering the nicknames he’s sure he probably already uses on Snart. 

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “Just Barry.”

The answer’s accepted without question.

“Alright then,” Mick says. “I’m Mick, and that’s Len. Though, personally, I recommend you call him Leonard. He loves it.”

“You do remember that you have to share a room with me, right?” Snart asks him, the implications clearly there. “You really want to be pushing that one knowing that?”

Mick glares, looking like he very much wants to. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips together and breathes a sigh out through his nose, but says nothing else on the matter. A wise decision by the sounds of it. 

“Okay,” Barry says, grinning. “Got it. Guess we’re on an any-name basis, then.”

Snart--or Len, Barry decides--catches his eyes with a knowing look. He’s smiling, almost secretive about it. Then he’s rolling his eyes but motioning for Barry to join him on the otherwise empty table. He does, and Mick starts talking again about something or other. Juvie could be worse, Barry decides. 

~

Visitation isn’t like it is in the proper prison. Instead of being separated by panels of glass and having to talk through a phone, there’s a room filled with soft chairs and two-seated couches in four rows with a table in between each seat. 

Barry sits across from Joe and Iris. Joe keeps looking around like he’s unsure about something, questioning, searching. Barry just focuses on Iris the entire time. They talk, they laugh, it’s surprisingly nice. Then again, every moment with Iris is usually. 

When Joe excuses himself for just a second to go and talk to one of the guards, or whatever reason he gives that Barry doesn’t listen to, he feels someone drop down beside him on the couch. Iris’ eyes widen. 

“Was wondering when we’d finally meet again,” Len says.

Barry rolls his eyes, but turns to him, shoving his arm. “You’re not allowed to be here. Isn’t Lisa missing you over there?”

“She’s talking to Mick,” Len says, as if that’s practically the same thing. 

“Wait, you’re in here, too?” Iris blurts out, over her inital shock already. She then aims a light kick at Barry’s foot beneath the table. “You didn’t mention him!”

Barry starts to open his mouth, but Len’s beating him to it, feigning a gasp.

“You didn’t mention me yet?” he asks. “I’m hurt, Barry, truly.”

“I haven’t had a chance!” Barry says in his defence, and quickly waves a hand between the two of them. “Iris, this is Len, Len, this is Iris. There. Happy?”

Iris quirks an eyebrow as Len suppresses an amused smirk. 

“So dramatic,” Len jokes, addressing Iris with a shake of his head. 

She nods back, her laughter kept in her mouth, even as she says, “He always has been. I don’t think he can help it, but I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s now one of the reasons I love him.”

Barry’s heart jumps. Love. It means a lot of different things, he reasons, but his heart still grows and beats a little stronger when he catches her eyes and she smiles that cute, happy little smile at him. 

“Yeah, I can see why,” Len agrees softly. Then, when Barry looks at him in surprise, he rolls his eyes and gives his knee a nudge with his foot. “Though you’ve been a real pain since you got here. Honestly, can you go one day without getting in trouble?”

Barry grins. “But where would the fun in that be?”

“All right, I’ve been leaving you with Mick for too long, you’re gonna start setting fire to things soon.” Len turns to Iris. “Would you be willing to commit a minor offense to get thrown in here and take him off my hands? I’m going to go crazy.”

Iris laughs now and she shakes her head. “Sorry, boys, but I plan on staying out of here if possible. I’m not so easy to corrupt.”

Len’s eyes narrow, but the smile stays on his face. Sly, secretive, curious. 

“Perhaps,” he says. “Or maybe you just need to see that there’s fun to be had in a little corruption. It’s not all bad.”

“You’re in juvie,” Iris says blankly, raising an eyebrow.

Spreading his arms around them, one on the back of the couch, Len replies, “And it’s not so bad. We’re having fun, aren’t we? I’m just saying.”

“Do not get yourself thrown in here,” Barry says to her, laughing. “This is enough. Seriously. I’ll be out before you know it.”

Joe starts to come back over, and Len makes his exit. He only lingers long enough to wave a goodbye to Iris with a wink and promise Barry he’ll see him later before he hops back over the couches, settling back down beside Mick across from a girl about the same age as Barry and Iris, and an old man. 

~

So, Barry was a little bit off when he said he would be out in no time. He accidentally gets into a fight, and his sentence is lengthened by a couple more weeks. And it kind of just keeps happening. It’s not intentional, obviously. But he will admit that juvie isn’t all that bad. He has Len, and even Mick.

Time just passes. It doesn’t even really feel like it’s been a year and a half. But it has. And as the months have gone on, Joe’s grown more reluctant to let Iris visit. He says it’s affecting her. Making her distant and constantly worried about him, finding it hard to concentrate in school. Acting out. 

Of course, he says none of it to Barry’s face, but he overhears him saying it to his probation officer. When asked why he thought it was better if she visited less when it clearly makes both of them happy. But Joe’s firm. He stops Iris from coming. So, Barry eventually refuses to see him, too. 

He’s a little more miserable, to be honest. But Len’s there, cheering him up, at least. Mick’s... well, Mick.

But Barry’s probation officer talked to him a couple of weeks ago, bringing a little bit of news. Bad in their eyes, of course, but very good in his. 

He’s not allowed to see Iris the day she’s brought in, letting her get settled into her room first. Just down the hall from him. Apparently juvie in Central City doesn’t care about separation. 

But the next day, when they’re forced to go to class, he finally sees her and takes the seat right next to her. She lights up right away.

“Really, Iris?” he asks jokingly. “I know you missed me, but Len was kidding when he said you should join us.”

“No I wasn’t,” Len says from the seat behind him with a grin, shaking his head. 

Iris smiles. Something that people wouldn’t expect from someone on their first day in a juvenile detention facility. 

She shrugs. “What can I say? You made it sound fun.”

“What did you even do?” Barry asks, leaning across in his seat. He catches Len doing the same, shifting just a little, his curiosity obviously piqued as well.

“I was just skipping too many days of school...” she says, fiddling idly with a pen, “...stealing too much from the same store...but in my defence...I missed the chocolate you kept stealing for me, and it’s really not as much fun without you.”

Barry grins. “So, what you’re saying is, you missed me.”

“Maybe,” she says, rolling her eyes. She then points a thumb back at Len, adding, “But it’s his fault, too. If he hadn’t interrupted every one of our visits just to tell me what you guys have been up to, I wouldn’t have felt like I missing out. Or like I should be rescuing one of your from the other. Still haven’t decided which one needs it more.”

Barry scoffs, but Len’s smirking, a happy glint in his eyes. It’s a rare sight, one that Barry sees now and again. It’s how imagines he must look when he gets that heart-skipping feeling around Iris.

“Definitely me,” Len drawls. “I’m going out of my mind, Iris. Mick’ll agree with me, won’t you, Mickey?”

Mick groans from two seats in front of Iris, turning to look back at them over the empty one between them. “Stop dragging me into this. I’m tired. And I don’t care. Kill each other, please.”

Iris raises her eyebrows and looks at the two of them. But they both laugh and just wave it off as Mick slumps in his seat, his arms crossing. 

“You’ll get used to him, if you stay long enough,” Len says. “He grows on you. Eventually. As do I.”

“Eh, he’s alright,” Barry says when Iris looks just at him. 

“Rude.”

Barry leans back in his seat, grinning at him upside down.

“Kidding.”

Len’s eyes narrow. Barry had once thought they looked like cold, harsh ice. Dangerous and terrifying. They still kind of do, as does Len in general. But it’s like a softer ice now, in the middle of melting but not quite there. But slowly getting there. 

“So, Iris,” Len turns back to her, a mischievous look replacing the feigned glare, “tell me, do you like heists? Because, you definitely need to for this to work. Barry, Mick, and I are already planning our future for once we get out of here, and there are many heists involved. Are you in?”

“So much for subtle,” Mick mutters. Len ignores. 

Barry shrugs helplessly when Iris shoots him a questioning, almost disbelievingly amused look. They’ve talked about a couple of heists. Jokes. Maybe. The ideas aren’t so bad, and at this point, Barry isn’t sure what his future’s looking like. Maybe bank robber is his destiny. Hell, maybe they could break into Iron Heights and get his dad out. 

A genuinely thoughtful look crosses Iris’ face as she hums in consideration. 

“I’ve never really thought about it,” she admits. “How high are our chances of being caught? Because, my dad’s a cop, and I really don’t think it would be good if he caught us.”

“Not to worry about that,” Len says. “I always have a plan.”

Iris takes another moment, pausing. “All right. If it’s a good enough plan, and if Barry’s in, then sure.”

“I’m in,” Barry says, grinning. “Let’s rob a bank.”

~

“Why does stealing from the CCPD seem like our dumbest idea yet?” Barry whispers, but he keeps walking, careful not to make a noise in the deserted hallway. 

He glances at his watch. Seven minutes left. He can make it in and out in seven minutes. As long as he’s fast. He can do fast. 

“It’ll be fine,” Len assures him through the comms, his voice that soothing calm. “Just get to the lab. You remember where it is, right?”

“Yeah.” Barry turns the corner and spots the big sliding doors. “Right here. Okay, so, I go in and--”

“And you find the evidence,” Iris finishes for him, confirming. “They can’t afford to pull any of our fingerprints, or hair, or just any DNA off of it. Grab whatever they have on us, then get the hell out. My dad’s going to be there in six minutes, forty-three seconds.”

“Okay. Got it.”

Barry reaches up, flipping the little switch on the side of his goggles. Everything quickly turns shades of blue and orange and yellow. No red. No human heat signatures nearby, and none in the lab.

He slides the door open and walks in, flipping the switch back. Setting the gun in his hand down on the nearest surface, he quickly looks around the lab. It’s immaculate, not a thing out of place. 

“Thank you, Mr. Albert,” he mutters under his breath. Makes his life a hell of a lot easier if he’s not having to rifle through a mess of papers and other pieces of evidence. 

Instead, it only takes him thirteen seconds to locate exactly what he’s looking for, and another sixteen to carefully pull the evidence from the machine mid-test. Thirty-two to find the file, swipe it, and stuff it in his bag, which he keeps away from all surfaces. Eleven to grab the two other items of evidence they have against them, and then twenty-four to delete the digital file and the half-run tests. Not a single thing left to indicate there was even a case in the first place. 

Stepping back, he closes up his bag, grabs his gun, then makes back for the door. “Okay, we’re all good here.”

“Wait, Barry, see if you can find the evidence from the Laurdon case as well,” Iris says. 

“Good idea,” he says, quickly recalling their uncertainty over whether or not they had accidentally dropped something at the scene. 

He backtracks, heading back over to the case files. There’s a flash of light from the corner of his eye and he glances over at the windows. Probably just lightning, he reasons, or some part of the launch tonight. The particle accelerator finally being turned on gave them the perfect opportunity to clear their tracks since nearly everyone is over at S.T.A.R. Labs to watch it.

Finding the file, he flips through it. One bit of evidence, still being processed. 

Barry sets the file back and quickly moves over to the shelves. It said something about a chemical test that he remembers trying out a good few years ago. It’s just a matter of finding the right one. 

Fortunately, it’s not so hard. He grins, triumphant as he spots the beaker up on the second highest shelf, filled with a red liquid and a tiny strip of fabric. 

He reaches for it when there’s another flash outside, brighter this time. For a brief moment when he looks back at the windows, he thinks he was right in it being a storm. But then he takes in what he’s seeing. The lightning isn’t coming from the sky. It is, but it’s like it’s being controlled by some beam shooting up into the sky right from S.T.A.R. Labs.

Confused, he takes a step towards the window, then falters, glancing back at the shelf. The air feels like it’s filled with static. That’s not a good sign.

“Barry?” Iris’ voice asks. 

He’s going to respond. But his eyes fix back on S.T.A.R. Labs just as something happens. He can’t even explain what; a surge of powers, but accompanied by a bright light, shooting out from the building and sweeping all over the city. Coming straight towards him.

His eyes widen, but when it hits, he just feels the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. The lights go out. Every light, not a single dot within the whole expanse of Central City. 

“Barry? What the hell was that?” Iris asks, alarm in her voice now. They felt it, too. 

“Barry,” Len says sharply. “Answer.”

“I--I don’t know,” Barry says. “Something must have gone wrong with the particle accelerator, I think. There was like this power surge, and lightning, and--”

Thunder rumbles overhead. Right above him, actually. Far too close to be safe, especially when he still feels like he’s just stuck a knife in a toaster. 

“I’m leaving,” he says. 

He moves to make good on that, but stops short at rain pouring into the room. His eyes flick up and find a hatch in the roof. Open, of course. CCPD really has some geniuses on its payroll. 

Ignoring it, he moves to head for the doors. But as soon as he steps beneath the hatch, he can feel the shift in the air. The dread and panic already creeping up his spine, latching its claws into his shoulder. The taste of something metallic fills his mouth. 

He barely has time to lift his eyes back to the sky to see the bolt of lightning come straight down. It strikes him, and he’s aware, somewhere, of his body being thrown across the room by it. Of his back hitting something hard and metal, of things crashing down around him, and a burning beneath his skin and on it, like acid seeping through into his veins while he’s set alight. 

~

Speeding straight through the doors, Barry then skids to a halt and quickly slides it shut. When he turns around, he’s met with raised eyebrows and pointed looks that he’s all too familiar with.

“Damn it,” he groans, feeling the burn in his shoulder now.

He whips his shirt off, throwing it to the stone floor to stamp the flames out. 

“He’ll learn eventually,” Len says wryly, voice coated in sarcasm. 

Iris grins from her comfortable position in his lap, legs stretched out across the couch. “It’s been a year.”

Barry groans again, saying, “It’s hard, all right? You don’t know, it’s easy to forget that I can just--accidentally set myself on fire because I ran too fast!”

“I’ve accidentally set myself on fire,” Mick says, and Barry nearly startles, finding him sitting at a table in the corner of the room, drinking a beer. “Wasn’t pretty.”

The room falls silent at that. Barry just looks over at Len and Iris, and they all have a similar thought process of just let it be. It’s Mick. They’ve been used to it since juvie. 

“Alright then,” Barry mutters. Then, clearing his throat and in a more audible voice, says, “But anyway. Thought you’d like to know that I got it.”

Iris’ eyes widen, and she perks up, head lifting. Len’s expression isn’t quite as expressive; it never is, but Barry can see the glimmer in his eyes, the spark that comes alive.

“You got it?” Iris asks. “As in, it?”

Barry grins and produces the little leather pouch from his pocket. He holds it up and now they’re definitely both brimming with excitement and amazement, all knowing what’s inside. Even Mick is eyeing it with interest. 

“I got it,” Barry says again. He shrugs. “Perks of being a speedster, I guess. Some geniuses they are. S.T.A.R. Labs didn’t even have any alarms in place. I went straight in by them and straight back out with it.”

He crosses over to them and tosses the pouch for Iris to catch, which she does with both hands perfectly. In return, she briefly moves her legs to let him drop onto the couch before she throws them back over his lap. 

“Does it work?” Len asks, glancing at him. 

Iris is already pulling the strings to open it and tipping it upside down. A triangular device tumbles onto into her lap. 

“Don’t know.” Barry shrugs, spreading his arm over the top of the couch. “I haven’t tried it out. I was obviously waiting to get back here to you guys for that.”

Len smiles a little. Then all eyes are back on the device, now between Iris’ fingers as she turns it over slowly, careful. It’s grey and blue and definitely looks like what he was expecting. If he was to build one, it would pretty much be the same.

“If this works, you realize we can go anywhere we want now, right?” Iris says, voice as full of excitement as she seems, looking at the two of them. “Any planet. A different universe, even.”

“So many banks to rob, so many heists,” Len says dreamily, almost mocking.

She shoots him a look and presses her lips together in a smile. “Seriously, though. If this extrapolator is the real deal...”

“Would be pretty cool,” Barry agrees. “So. Let’s test it out.”

Iris holds it out, aiming at the empty space in front of the couch. She hits the centre with her thumb, and it shoots out a small beam of light that quickly expands, becoming a huge glowing blue circle in the middle of the room.

They all stare in awe, even Mick, his mouth hanging open with his beer halfway to it. Barry breathes out in disbelief, then shakes his head and turns to Iris and Len. 

“The universe awaits then, I suppose.”

[senioritis2024]

The Pub

(Y/n)'s POV

"Come on, you have to come with me. I'll be bored without you and you need a break." You begged.

"You know I can't, besides, if I don't get my work done then I won't finish it before my deadline" She argued.

You couldn't believe it, your friend was freaking out about a project that had a deadline... IN 3 WEEKS. She was always super crazy about getting her work done but this was getting a little irritating and out of hand.

"(Y/b/f/n/n), you need to stop. It's not due for 3 weeks and you will get it done. I can bet you $50 that you will get it done before next weekend if you come and do this with me."

"What if I don't want to risk it? You know I will end up only thinking about work and I won't be any fun. Then you won't get to enjoy your night out."

"I don't care if you end up only thinking about work, as long as you go I will have fun. Now, no more arguing, we need to get dressed and you need to do our makeup. I would do it but it won't be nearly as good as if you do it." You said as you stood up from your bed and walked towards your closet.

"(Y/n)...." (Y/b/f/n) said, dragging out your name just to be dramatic.

You ignored her as you continued looking in your closet for something to wear tonight.

"Even if I go, which I haven't decided yet, I have nothing to wear and I am not wearing pajamas."

"No duh," You said as you walked out with a couple options for both you and (Y/b/f/n). "I refuse to let you look like a bum. Plus, I have a couple dresses that you could wear."

"Nuh-uh. I am not going to wear any of your clothes, I wouldn't be comfortable showing that much skin."

You had to bite your tongue to keep from calling your best friend out and saying she dresses like an old lady. You just felt a little more comfortable with your body than she does and so you would wear SLIGHTLY more revealing clothes than she would.

"(Y/b/f/n), I would never make you wear something slutty, but if you feel uncomfortable with what I pick out you can take one of my tank tops and wear it underneath. Okay?"

"Fine, but you seriously owe me big time."

"I'm fine with that. Now please pick something out while I get dressed." You said as you walked to your bathroom that was across the hall.

(Y/b/f/n)'s POV

Each dress was a little, and by a little I mean A LOT, out of my comfort zone. But I already gave into (Y/n) and I don't feel like being lectured again. I decided to look at the dresses, figuring that I could give them a chance. Each dress was stunning. The silver dress was a little low cut but it had sequins all over it that sparkled brightly in the light. The Navy dress was higher cut but a little shorter, however it was made of breathable fabric and happened to be my favorite color. The red dress was a satin fabric and cut a little lower than the blue but hugged my body in just the right places. I didn't want to admit it, but I loved the way this dress looked on me. I walk over to (Y/n)'s mirror and look at myself. Honestly, I actually look kinda cute and I wouldn't mind being seen in this dress.

"You look absolutely beautiful (Y/b/f/n/n)."

You jumped and turned around at your friend's comment as she walked in, wearing a gold, velvet dress and heels.

"You need to learn to knock. What if I was naked?"

"Two things; 1) You weren't and 2) This is my room. I have the right to barge in."

"Whatever." You said with a smirk as you turned back around to admire how you looked.

"Is that what you are wearing? Because if not you're going crazy."

"Yeah, I'll wear this. Do you have any shoes I can borrow?"

"Sure," Your friend said as she walked back into her closet, reappearing in seconds with a pair of gold, strappy sandals in her hands. "I know you can't walk in heels let alone be able to dance with me, so here."

"Thanks, how much time do we have until we have to leave?"

"About an hour, I figure it'll give you time to do our makeup and then we can leave. We should have enough time to get drinks before the band starts. Hopefully I can catch the drummer's eye tonight, maybe I can even take-"

"(Y/n), I love you but I don't think I wanna know all that." You say with a giggle.

"Okay, suit yourself," She said as she walked over to her vanity. "Just don't ask to be my maid-of-honor at the wedding."

You just ignored her last comment as you began folding your clothes from the day, putting them on (Y/n)'s dresser. While you did that, (Y/n) began putting on foundation and concealer.

"What do you want me to do for your makeup. Are we thinking a cut crease? Smoky? Solid? Glitter?" You asked, even though you knew she wouldn't care.

"I'm thinking maybe a Smoky eye look. But as long as you can do what you do best and make me look good, I don't care."

"Alright, head back," you said as you grabbed one of her makeup brushes and began coating it with a light brown eyeshadow. "Do you plan on telling me anything about this drummer yet or do I have to hear about it after your wedding?"

"Don't be silly. Even if I ever got mad at you, you will always be my maid-of-honor. Now, the real tea. He is the drummer of Smile, tall, blonde, muscular, and a certified player. Don't get me wrong, I know that he doesn't really have a good reputation but-"

You couldn't pay attention after then first few sentences, you got lost in thought about what you were going to do about your assignment from work. But you couldn't play it off too well because in seconds you hear,

"EARTH TO (Y/b/f/n)!!! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Don't even think about lying to me, woman. I know you inside and out and it's obvious that something is bugging you. What's wrong?" The mother-figure in your friend came out and you couldn't help but sigh at how true her last statement was.

"Fine....I can't stop thinking about work and what's going to happen if I don't get this project done in time. What if I forget about it tonight and get fired for not doing it? What if I-"

"You better stop right there. Back it up. Come back to reality. We just had this conversation honey. You are going to be fine. It's not like I'm asking you to give up on work forever, I am only asking you to hang out with me for tonight. I promise you that you will get it done."

"Okay," You say with a sigh. "You know, I hate when you're right."

"So you hate me all the time?" She asked.

"Obviously"

She gasped dramaticly and commented, "How rude!!"

You couldn't hold your laughter in anymore so you burst out laughing. (Y/n) tries to keep a straight face but she ended up laughing with you after a couple of seconds. As you guys kept talking and gossiping about (Y/n)'s most recent ex, your guys' makeup eventually got finished and you headed out to catch a taxi to the pub where Smile was playing.

~Time Skip To Before Band Starts Playing~

(Y/n)'s POV

"Can I please get a Whiskey Sour?" I asked.

"And may I get a........Cherry Coke?"

The bartender walked away to get your drinks and you turned to (Y/b/f/n).

"What was with the Cherry Coke? You feeling risky tonight?"

"Actually, yeah. Since I'm going to be out and about, I figured, why not step a little out of my comfort zone. Ya know?"

You had to try your hardest not to laugh at her. Instead you settled for a nod and a shake of your head. You and (Y/b/f/n) kept chatting and nursing your drinks until the lights lowered and four men climbed onstage. One guy had big, brown curly hair and an electric guitar in hand. Another had light brown, wavy long hair and carried a bass. The lead singer went up front with shoulder length black hair and big teeth. Then the drummer went on back to his drum set and scanned the crowd as he sat down on his stool. When his eyes met yours, he sent you a wink and a smile that could melt you on the spot. But you weren't going to be that easy. You knew he was going to try and find you after by the look on his face when you sent him a smirk. This is going to be a fun night.

Hello guys! Thank you for reading this and I want you guys to know that the beginning might start off slow but it will get pretty interesting as is goes on. I will be trying to post chapters every Sunday if not they will be posted by every Tuesday. My wattpad account will be linked below and once I start posting my other story, some sneak peeks will be released for you guys. Thank you for reading this and I hope you guys have a nice week. Please reblog so this story gets around. Thank you and see you next Sunday. -M