Hell, Leonard Snart was rapidly coming to realize, hath no fury like a tiny blonde assassin who's locked in a beer cooler.

"I said, I'm sorry," he repeated, as inoffensively as possible. He shoved on the door again, but it remained steadfastly shut.

"And I said that the only words I want to hear from you are 'the door is unlocked."'

"I don't know how your buddy Oliver ever managed to keep this place open for business," he muttered, regardless of Sara's wrath. "Pretty sure it's against the fire code to have a walk-in cooler that people can get trapped in."

There was no lock on the inside for him to pick. He'd already tried Cisco's prototype mini cold gun with disastrous results. Said results including a burst pipe, and a drenched Sara.

"You really need to get out of that dress," he said, the words leaving his mouth without any interference from his brain.

Sara folded her arms and glared at him - and he had the good sense to take a step back. "If you think for a minute that you're gonna get lucky in a beer cooler at your own sister's engagement party -"

Snart raised his hands placatingly. "I think that you're gonna get pneumonia standing around in a wet dress in here. Look, I'll give you my jacket."

"Yeah, not giving you a show."

"Fine. You can have my shirt."

Sara held out her hand.

Snart sighed, and shucked off his navy blazer, then the pale blue oxford, which he handed to her. Sara made a twirling motion with her hand, and he turned his back, slipping back into the jacket. He heard a wet plop as her drenched silk dress hit the floor, then some soft rustling sounds.

"All right, you can turn around now," she said in a sulky tone, as she tried to shake out her dress.

Snart found himself a crate that had miraculously escaped the spraying water and sat down with his back against the wall. "That looks better on you than it ever did on me."

"I look like a drowned rat."

"You're fine," he said in a warm tone that Sara generally only heard him use to, or about, Lisa.

"I'm still mad at you," she reminded him.

"No, you're not."

"I wanted tonight to be beautiful and perfect, and instead, I'm locked in a damn beer cooler and I'm soaked and I'm freezing!"

"Will you just come here?"

Reluctantly, Sara crossed the room and hopped up on the crate beside him, curling her bare legs up from the floor. Snart just looked at her and shook his head, then pulled her into his lap.

"Better?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Look, I'm sure we won't be in here too long. Mick's up there, so they'll run out of beer soon, and someone will come to get more."

"Great. Mick getting drunk is not the mental image I was hoping for."

"It'll be fine, Sara. Lisa and me, we don't expect things to be perfect."

Sara looked up at him with a suspicious shimmer in her eyes. "But that's just it - I wanted your sister to have something wonderful."

"I know, and no one's ever done anything like this for her. The club looks amazing, she's got all her friends - God help me, she's got Ramon - and soon enough, someone will come and let us out of here."

As if on cue, the door rattled and Mick pushed into the room, with a hand truck. "Hey, Boss. Was wonderin' where you two had got to. Didn't know you was havin' a private party," he added, eyeing Sara's attire suggestively.

"Shut up, Mick," they replied in unison.

"Don't you two have speeches to make, or somethin'?"

"Whatever. As soon as we find Sara some dry clothes."

"Why were you waiting in here? It's not like the door was locked."

"Yes, it was!"

Mick just shrugged. "Sure,Boss. Whatever you say."