#pieprincesswritesdc

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The taste of Sara's lips lingered on his tongue. Len hoped she'd gotten away. He hoped they all had. His team. He'd never been much of a team player in the past, but that was before he'd joined the Legends. And look where it had left him: holding onto a device that was set to blow at any second.

All things considered, Len supposed this was a good way to go. He wondered what Barry would think of him now. What would the Flash say once he learnt that Len had died a hero? Would Barry mourn him? Maybe. He was a god damn bleeding heart if ever Len had known one.

When the Time Masters surrounded him, Len had time for one last line. One last snarky comment. He'd make sure it was a good one.

"No strings on me," Len said, and he closed his eyes to the blinding light filling the room.

His last thought was of Lisa.

He supposed he should have expected that... his sister had always loved that damn film and insisted on watching it with him every birthday. Though he'd missed it last year, having been recently arrested for killing their father, so she'd had to come to visit him in prison instead. Lisa forgave Len that though, saying Lewis Snart's death was a better present than she could have asked for and more than made up for one skipped birthday. She'd made him promise not to miss her next one, though... it seemed like Len was going to be breaking that promise. He supposed she'd have to find someone else to carry on that tradition with her from now on. Maybe it would be Cisco? He was a good guy, and it was obvious to Len just how much the two cared for each other. If it wasn’t Cisco, though, Len just had to hope it wasn’t Rosa either; she’d messed with Lisa’s heart too much already.

But, whoever it was, they had better take good care of his little sister or Len would come back to personally haunt their ass.

No strings on me.

No strings on me…

No strings on me…

"There are no strings on me!"

Len sat forward with a jolt, panting heavily as his mind swam with mental whiplash. It took him far too long to blink away his confusion and recognise where he was.

"Lenny? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Lisa was asking, placing her hand on his back. He tried not to cringe away from her touch

"You have no strings, your arms is free, to love me by the Zuider Zee," the song continued.

"Yeah..." he said slowly, looking away from Pinocchio dancing away on the TV to Lisa. Slowly, he settled back down on his sister's sofa. "Yeah, I'm fine." His heart was racing, and he was still panting, but he was calming down again now. "Just a bad dream." But it had felt like so much more than that... it had felt real.

"You fell asleep while watching Pinocchio?" Lisa asked, looking thoroughly unimpressed. She really did love this film. "It's not even nine o'clock. And it's my birthday!"

"Sorry, Sis," Len shrugged. He didn't have much else to say. The longer his eyes were open, the more faded the dream felt. Of course, it hadn't been real... Len internally chided himself for even considering that a possibility. Speedsters and immortals and time travel? That stuff could never really exist! It had just been a dream. A very, very weird dream.

"You're getting old, Lenny," his sister teased, and Len rolled his eyes.

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The next morning, s Leonard and his team rode down the armoured van, Len could feel his heart racing in his chest. But he couldn’t let some dream interfere with his heist. He’d been planning it for months, and it was set to be the biggest haul of his career. He and all of his crew would be walking away with at least two mil’ each. He wasn’t about to bail out now.

So, Len continued on. However, he couldn’t help but throw glances over his shoulder as he dismounted his bike and grabbed the liquid nitrogen containers to bust open the door. And when the red blur did, in fact, come rushing to the rescue, Len didn’t hang around to check it out as he’d done in his dream. He jumped on his bike and got the hell out of dodge, mask still firmly in place.

Back at the safe house, Len’s mind was spinning. His dream… it couldn’t have been real. Could it? It wasn’t possible. But neither was the red blur which had interrupted his heist. Len stared at the screen, the surveillance footage he’d swiped from the van playing under his sharp gaze. It was exactly as Len had remembered it in his dream. Everything was happening in precisely the same way. The thought made Len’s stomach twist into knots. If the dream was real… then that meant that Len had only eighteen months left before he died.

But, what a hell of an eighteen months they would be: becoming Captain Cold, going up against the mob, getting rid of Lewis once and for all, travelling through time, and doing and taking whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Well, almost…

There was one thing that Len found himself wanting desperately. One person. Someone that Len would have never expected to fall for…

And Len supposed that that was it: that was how he could find out, once and for all, whether this dream of his was coming true or not. Len would have to track down Barry Allen. If he was real, then this whole thing, whatever it was, must be real too.

That was how he found himself inside CC Jitters the next morning, waiting on an impossible man.

His dream-self had done surveillance on Barry from the moment he’d squeezed the man’s name from Cisco’s lips. Months of monitoring his comings and goings. He’d learnt everything that he possibly could about Barry, stopping only once Len had found the young man getting cosy with a female cop and noticed the way his gut twisted with jealousy at the sight of the pair… But that wouldn’t be for another year yet.

In Len’s dream, the Flash had frequented this coffee shop day in and day out. So, if Len wanted to run into him, then this was the place to do it.

Len didn’t have long to wait before the door opened and in walked Barry Allen and Iris West. Iris patted her friend on the shoulder and moved behind the counter to put on an apron. But Len’s eyes were trained on Barry. He was dressed like a preschool teacher in a sweater vest and shirt with a pair of slim-fit jeans. It looked good on him, though Len would be surprised if he found anything that looked bad on this man.

The goody type didn’t usually do it for Len, but there was so much more to Barry than met the eye and thus, regardless, Len found his heart racing frantically against his chest. Though, maybe his reaction was less about seeing Barry again and more about the crushing realisation that his dream had been real.

Len couldn’t understand how that was possible. He’d dreamt about the future. But how? He wasn’t a meta… was he?

Barry was leaning on the counter now and talking to his friend. From this angle, Len could just about see the grin on the Flash’s face. One part of Len wanted to stay and watch this impossible man some more, but another part of him needed time to think things over. Getting up, Len shrugged his coat back on over his shoulders and made to leave the café. But then someone was tripping up and crashing into him.

Len stumbled, shooting a hand out to a nearby post, and steadying himself and the other man before they both went hurtling to the floor. He looked down to find Barry Allen’s big green eyes looking back up at him, the to-go cup he’d been holding slipping to the floor and spilling all over Len’s shoes. Though, Len realised he didn’t quite mind that. He could always buy a new pair.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” Barry said, pulling himself up. “I was backing up, and I wasn’t looking where I was going. And I… I’ll pay for your dry cleaning!” Barry continued. Len looked down at himself, seeing that some of the coffee had indeed also splattered against his new coat. Len didn’t mind that either. Barry twisted to grab his wallet from his jeans pocket, and Len realised he was still holding onto Barry’s shoulder; he quickly let go.

“They’re only clothes,” Len said. He sounded breathless. He was breathless. Len was working without a plan here, and he always had a plan. He hadn’t intended to meet Barry today, but now that he had… "Let me buy you another drink,” Len said, slipping into his drawl like putting on a good pair of gloves. He watched Barry closely and was happy to see a brush of colour sweep across the younger man’s cheeks.

"But, I was the one who bumped into you,” Barry protested, still holding his wallet as though he was going to insist on paying. Len placed his hand purposefully over Barry’s.

"Yeah, you were," Len said, smirking. He enjoyed the way that Barry grinned at him in return. Their relationship in the dream had been much more difficult. But this? This was easy. "You look like a caramel latte, kind of guy."

"How did you know?"

"Call it a hunch," Len shrugged. The truth was, he remembered it being Barry’s go-to drink in his dream. Though, his friends would often order a Flash for him as a joke. Len would have liked to make that same joke now, but that particular drink wasn’t on the menu… yet. “Also,” Len said, dipping down to pick the spilt disposable coffee cup up off the floor, "it's written on your cup."

"Oh, right," Barry laughed. Len, smirk still in place, stepped around the spill to toss the now-empty cup in the trash at the same time that Iris came over with a mop. Barry apologised to her, but she only gave Barry a not-so-subtle wink and nodded with her head for Barry to follow Len to the counter. Barry had turned an even brighter shade of red by this point.

Len ordered the man’s drink and then leant back against the counter, elbows propped up behind him and taking his time to slowly look Barry up and down.

“So, Barry, do you make a habit of running into people at coffee shops or am I just lucky?” Len drawled, and Barry scratched nervously at the back of his neck.

“Well, I try not to,” Barry laughed. “Not everyone’s as nice about it as you are,” he said, and Len almost burst out laughing. He didn’t think anyone had ever called him ‘nice’ before. “Wait, you know my name?” Barry asked. But he quickly shook his head and tapped his crown in a ‘duh’ gesture. “The coffee cup,” he said, answering his own question. “Though, now I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t know your name.”

When Barry came to again, a few days had passed. He was lying in a make-shift hospital bed in one of the smaller labs at STAR, and both Cisco and Caitlin were hovering around him expectantly and asking him relentless questions. At first, Barry didn’t really remember what had happened. But soon, it all came flooding back to him. Well, not all of it. He struggled to remember most of what he’d seen while connected to the timestream, which had apparently faded from his body due to his accelerated healing factor. But, the memory of Len’s tongue dancing against his own was all too real.

“Where’s, erm…” Len. Just thinking his name made Barry’s heart beat a little faster and he was forever glad that Cait had already unhooked him from the heart rate monitor.

“Your boyfriend’s over there,” Cisco joked, and Barry blushed. He was about to stutter out some sort of excuse when he glanced over to where Cisco had been pointing and found Len lying in a hospital bed identical to Barry’s, connected to an IV drip and various machines.

The words died on Barry’s tongue as he abruptly stood up and flashed over to Len’s side without really thinking about it. His reaction must have been a surprise to Cisco because the other man’s smile was already dropping from his lips.

“Is he okay?” Barry asked, and Caitlin nodded.

“He’s not deteriorating anymore. He’s actually been healing. On a cellular level, he’s fine,” she said.

“But?” Barry asked, seeing the hesitation on her face.

“But… we don’t know how long he’s going to be out for. Or, if he ever will wake up.”

Barry shook his head. He didn’t go through all of that just for Len to get stuck in a coma for the rest of his life. Barry couldn’t accept that. He wouldn’t.

Barry didn’t know whether it would work, but he’d done it once before with Jesse. He reached forward, his fingers crackling with electricity, and he took Len’s hand in his own. The second their skin made contact, Len was gasping and bolting upright in his bed. Wordlessly, Len looked at Barry, his blue eyes lacking the unnatural glow they’d had before, as Caitlin scrambled forward to check him over.

Barry tried to take his hand back and give his friend more room to work, but Len grabbed him tighter and refused to let go. Barry let out a shaky laugh and smiled as he took in the unfiltered emotions covering Len’s face. He looked as though he was in absolute awe of Barry, and it made Barry blush.

“Well, if it isn’t my Scarlet Speedster,” Len said, his voice sounded dry from disuse, but it made Barry’s heart flutter all the same. “You owe me a real kiss.”

“Please don’t,” Cisco muttered. “I’ve seen enough of that particular show for one week.”

“Then look away,” Len drawled, tugging sharply on Barry’s hand until he stumbled forwards and into Len’s arms. Barry was smiling as their lips met. He couldn’t help it. It was a messy kiss, and there was a little bit too much teeth involved, but neither Len nor Barry could care about that.

“Here,” Len said, taking a credit card out of his wallet and handing it to Barry. “Buy yourself something pretty,” he laughed, and Barry frowned at him.

“I don’t need a sugar daddy, Len,” he muttered, sounding offended, and Len sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t have joked about such a sensitive issue.

“I know that. But you just said yourself that you’re in debt. And I have more money than I know what to do with,” Len elaborated, sure that Barry couldn’t know just how true that statement was. “If I’m not spending it on myself, then is it really so bad if I spend a little on my boyfriend?” He drawled and pushed the card into Barry’s hands. Barry frowned down at it for a second, seeming conflicted, then his brow furrowed even deeper as he looked up at Len.

“This says Leonard Snart,” Barry stated, though it sounded more like a question. For a moment, Len didn’t understand what the issue was. But then he realised his mistake. Barry knew him as Leonard Miller.

“Snart… is my real name,” Len carefully admitted, trying his best not to close his face off, and Barry looked very sad all of a sudden.

“You gave me a fake name? Barry asked slowly, and Len resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall: how could he have been so stupid? “Why?” He asked. Before Len could give an answer, Barry was talking again. Rambling uncomfortably and taking a step back. “People don’t just give out fake names for no reason. You don’t just tell your boyfriend a false name unless you’re hiding something.

“Oh, God. Oh God, you’re married, aren’t you?” Barry continued, getting a little frantic. “I knew this was too good to be true. I’m the other woman, aren’t I? Oh God, I can’t believe-”

“Barry,” Len cut him off as he saw the younger man working himself up. “Number one, I’m not married. Nor have I ever been,” he insisted. Barry was looking at him with those big sad puppy eyes of his, and it made Len’s heart twinge. How had he fallen so hard for this man? “And two, you’re not a woman,” he teased.

“It’s a figure of speech, Len!” Barry all but shouted. But then his fretting turned into something calmer, something more assessing, something that maybe worried Len. “Then, why?” Barry asked. “Because, if you’re not married, then the only other reason I can think of is,” that he’s a criminal. Len didn’t let Barry say the words aloud. He didn’t want to have to lie and deny them; he knew they weren’t ready for that particular conversation just yet. So, instead, Len admitted something that he hadn’t actually talked about to anyone other than Lisa in over 20 years.