Leonard Snart carefully settled the ceiling of their hidey-hole into place and slid down to the floor, trying to arrange his limbs into some semblance of not-cutting-off-circulation. It didn't work too well. The space was tiny, and there was already another person occupying it. Granted, Sara Lance was actually much smaller than her attitude and skills would have you believe, but still…the space was never intended for two adult humans.
Pressed shoulder to shoulder as they were, he couldn't help but notice that she was trembling. Badly. He frowned and leaned in so that his lips were almost touching her ear to whisper.
"You all right?"
She shuddered. "I don't do small spaces too well," she breathed.
"Me neither. Too many jail cells."
"Too many graves."
Well. There wasn't much he could say to that. He carefully wormed his hand up behind her and started gently kneading the tense muscles of her neck.
Sara let out a tiny sigh and relaxed infinitesimally.
Snart couldn't resist leaning in close again to whisper, "It works even better without clothes."
He swore he could feel the heat of a blush rising on her cheeks, and grinned.
"You wish."
There were a lot of things he wished in that instant. Surprisingly few of them had to do with the footsteps rapidly approaching their location.