Leonard Snart had never been a particularly tactile person. He'd learned early on to armor himself in layers - clothing, attitude, whatever it took - to keep others at arms length. Even here, safe behind the security system he'd designed, with any number of weapons within reach, and sharing a bed with a world class assassin, the habit persisted. Long sleeves and flannel pants, as little skin showing as possible.
The assassin in question sighed and shifted in her sleep. Bright blue eyes blinked open, and Sara Lance stretched like a contented cat, curling on her side to observe him.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked mildly, eyeing the bits of silk and lace she considered sleepwear. As usual, he was torn between enjoying the view, and cringing at the thought of being so…exposed.
"What's the point of Egyptian cotton sheets and a silk comforter if you're too bundled up to enjoy any of it?" Sara countered with a pretty pout.
"Old habits," he admitted.
"I know…but this is our place, that we've built for ourselves. Don't you think maybe it's time for some new habits?"
He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep affection from ruining his 'cold' mask, but it was a losing battle. Always had been, with Sara.
"What did you have in mind?" he drawled, snark mostly in place.
"Well, for starters, you could lose the shirt."
"Just the shirt?"
Sara flashed him a veryparticular smile, one eyebrow delicately arched -
And they both froze at a peculiar scratching sound from the skylight. A ginger tabby cat was up there, pawing rather insistently at the glass.
"Friend of yours?" Snart drawled.
Sara shook her head. "How'd it even get up there?"
"It's Gotham," Snart replied wearily. "I've given up asking. Scat," he muttered rather illogically in the general direction of the ceiling.
And then they both began to hear rain patter on the glass, and Sara turned those eyes on him, and he reluctantly swung his legs over the side of the bed, fumbling for the remote to open the skylight just enough to admit their very temporary guest.
