Len's body went numb, as if he'd once again been enveloped in ice.

The terrible pain of the cold gun misfiring and eating up his arm clung to the back of his mind; the intensity of the explosion, not pleasant but not the same kind of pain, more like feeling stretched and twisted and then molded back together. He had thought nothing could faze him anymore after meeting The Flash and working with so many metas with strange and otherwise unexplainable abilities. But even almost dying tonight and coming out of it instead with superpowers couldn't compete with what this kid had just spouted.

"Allen-Snart?" Cisco repeated, incredulous, as if the 'Snart' part was no surprise, only the hyphen.

"What does that even mean?" Len ground out, too flustered to gather his composure. "Who's your mother? Who's your father? How—" He cut himself off with a fierce shake of his head, stepping closer into the kid's space. Len could admit that Michael resembled him, he wasn't blind, but too many questions swirled within him. "You can't imply I'm your father to explain the ice, and Flash is your father to explain the speed—at the same time."

Michael shrank away from him, his blue eyes wide and pleading and so much like Lisa's—shit—while his youthful face seemed even younger, barely old enough to drive a car let alone wear a suit like that and mean it. "Why not?" he said in a small voice that sounded—shit, shit—like Barry Allen.

"Because people can't have two fathers biologically," Len snapped. He knew he was cracking, his voice rising too loudly, too angry, but this was insane.

"Cold," Barry interjected, a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him back from Michael. From Michael Allen-Snart. Michael Joseph Allen-Snart—after Detective West? Figures.

Len took a breath, rhythmic and deep, closed his eyes and took another, then turned to Barry. Uncertainty warred within the speedster's hazel eyes, but he steeled his gaze and nodded once to Len, an unspoken understanding passing between them that they needed to handle this calmly, together. Len nodded back to him.

They turned to face Michael as a unified front, and the kid visibly shuddered.

"Just explain," Barry said. "Is it simpler than we're thinking? Did our, like…children hook up in the future, and you're our grandson or something?"

Len didn't have it in him to counter that argument. Biological children were out of the picture for him period. But then he'd never been upfront about his sexuality with Barry. It was a need-to-know-basis fact about him; what was it anyone else's business who he slept with? He'd just figured Barry knew.

"No…you're my dads," Michael said.

His dads—Len and Barry—so offhandedly stated, a curve to the kid's lips that was all Barry—all Barry—while the rest looked like Len.

"How?" Len asked again, still simmering with unchecked anger. "Did someone create you as some cruel joke?"

"Snart." It was Snow this time, her and Cisco having cleared the bed so that the four of them made a semi-circle around Michael. She widened her eyes at him in some leading, silent plea. Len shot her a glare.

But Michael merely snorted, and with a roll of his eyes and twitch of a smile returning to his lips, said, "Yeah, you, Pop. Sure feels like a cruel joke today."

Did he just call Len—?

"But I'm no superhero/supervillain test tube baby like Con—" Michael slapped his hands over his mouth, appalled he'd apparently almost said something he shouldn't have. He spoke through his fingers, "Oh my god, I have to stop talking. I'm not supposed to tell you anything! I need to go home..."

"This doesn't make any sense," Barry said, ignoring Michael's plea, his eyes trained on the floor as if he was all up in his head. "How far into the future are you from? I mean, sure, Cold and I get along, and we don't fight the way I do with most of the other villains, but it's not like we're dating. We've never even flirted before!"

This time Len managed to hold his anger in check, though he clenched his fists, biting back a retort, only for Cisco and Snow to both huff in disbelief on his behalf. He stared at them. So did Barry. So did Michael.

"Did we just…make that noise out loud?" Cisco said, shuffling subtly away from the others, seeming pleased that he was on the end, with Snow between him and Len. "Okay, so…I don't know what you call what you two do Friday nights, but to the rest of us…" He shrugged, and Snow surrendered to how they'd both been caught and mirrored the gesture.

Barry's jaw dropped. "Seriously? You two think…?"

They shared a look—another shrug. Well. Cisco and Snow had picked up on Len's advances, but it seemed Barry hadn't been on the same wavelength.

Len refused to be hurt by that. They were enemies after all, opponents at the very least, and more to the point…Len was practically twice the kid's age! He never had any delusions about whisking the speedster off his feet when he was the same age as Barry's adopted father. He just enjoyed the banter, the furtive looks, the way the Flash suit hugged Barry's body, and his boyish, 1000 watt smile.

But when Barry looked at him, searching for corroboration that he wasn't the only one in the dark about this, Len couldn't lie. He only lied with purpose, not because he was a coward; he couldn't start being one now. He looked back at Barry steadily, not nodding or denying anything, just returned his gaze unflinching.

"That was…flirting?" Barry said with a quiet gape.

Len wasn't used to embarrassment; he lived life his own way and embraced his eccentricities, but for once he felt heat rise in his cheeks and he hated it. It made him feel like some lovesick idiot that he'd fallen for this boy, this bumbling unshakable hero, and rather than be rejected he hadn't even been considered.

"Jeez, Dad, you are so dense," Michael laughed, more relaxed with the attention shifted away from him. "You always said you were clueless back then...back now...but I've heard stories."

Len frowned at the kid, this impossible figure who didn't seem any more possible as the minutes passed, not to him. Len still suspected a ruse, a trick, a lie—he always did. Barry didn't want him; he certainly wouldn't want a child with him. So Len crossed his arms, shielding himself from Michael and what he had to say.

"Aunt Lisa told me everything. And anything she didn't know, Iris filled in." He grinned wide…then pouted with worry after glancing up and down Len's standoffish posture. "You don't believe me… But you have to! I can't risk making things worse! Dad," he turned to Barry, "please. You trust me, right? You said you started falling for Pop that time in the woods when he first saw your face."

Len tightened his arms across his chest, glancing aside for Barry's reaction to that. He refused to take anything this kid said at face value, but Barry looked...guilty? Red in the cheeks like he'd suddenly blushed?

"And Pop said it was even earlier for him, but the woods definitely clinched it. I know things got all tense and weird for a while, but all of that changed. It's already changed. You getting your powers is when…" He pursed his lips as he turned back to Len, brow scrunching in an expression Len rarely saw on his own face, but that he recognized of Lisa, and he realized how similar their eyes were—his and Lisa's…and Michael's.

Len felt like he couldn't move. If he even twitched, certainly if he lowered his arms, something in the air would snap, and the lie would unravel, revealing him as the butt of that cruel joke he'd mentioned. He could feel Barry's eyes on him, not on Michael, staring, lips still parted in that adorable, unfair gape.

"Dad…" Michael said again to pull Barry's attention back on him, in his Barry-like voice, with a hint of Len's own, sadder now, dripping with remorse and desperation that certainly sounded genuine. "The reason I stayed behind when I was supposed to head straight home was because of how wrecked you looked when you thought Pop was dead. I hated having to do that to you. Seeing you like that, crying over him, made me so worried I'd screwed it up, but then the ice cracked and it was fine." He beamed a bright, 100% Barry Allen smile.

Len glanced at the real Barry, because…had he really looked like that? Had he cried over Len, when he thought he was dead?

"I just wanted to go back with you for a few minutes until Pop woke up," Michael said. "And then he looked so scared from the ice, and I…I wasn't thinking. Please don't freak out and nullify my existence!" he cried with a cringe at how seriously crazy that sounded, blue eyes darting between Len and Barry. "I know you don't know it yet, but you will love each other so much someday. Like sickenly so. Like, it's embarrassing," he choked a strained laugh. "Raf and I bond over the utter embarrassment that is our parents all the time."

"Raf?" Snow spoke up. "You have a brother?"

"Cousin." Michael snapped his mouth shut before exclaiming, "Stop getting more details out of me! Urg, I am so screwing this up." His gaze strayed rather tellingly toward Cisco then, who looked startled, then worried, then contemplative…before catching Len's gaze and going right back to startled.

"You still haven't explained how this is possible," Snow said, her expression the only one remaining clinical and patient. "You really do look like a combination of Barry and Cold in some ways, but your skin tone…"

"Oh that's from Aunt Iris," Michael said offhandedly then closed his eyes with a sigh at his utter inability to keep from answering their questions. "Crap, I guess I have to tell you that much too. See, Cisco developed the technology to combine DNA for same sex couples. He found that allowing for a little overlap of DNA with the surrogate helps stabilize everything better. It's really fascinating. I've been doing a genetics project on it in school, and…well, it doesn't matter, but Iris really liked it, said it made you guys even more like brother and sister if I had some of her too," he smiled hopefully at Barry.

Iris West, Barry's not-sister, had carried Michael? That's why he was such a lovely shade of mocha? The part of Len that wondered if Michael was telling the truth had assumed it was because his own mother was black.

But no, he shook his head; he was just falling for the con. This was a lie, the kid a phony. It was the only explanation.

"I am twice Barry's age," he growled, clinging to all of the reasons he knew why Barry would never, ever want to be with him. "And you're from, what? Twenty years into the future? How would that even work?"

Michael swallowed a chuckle, and when Len took a step forward to counter his insolence, he realized that Barry, Cisco, and the good doctor were all staring at him as if there had been something very important left unspoken.

He passed his gaze to each of them. "What?"

Cisco snatched a tablet off the edge of the table Michael was leaned against, and jabbed at the screen before passing it to Len. Len frowned as he accepted the tablet and turned it toward him. It was setup for the camera, reflecting his own image back to him.

Len didn't understand, but when he pulled the tablet closer, the frown lines he expected to see, especially around his eyes, were gone. His hair no longer held any speckling of grey, not that he had minded it.

"I estimate you're closer to around thirty now at the cellular level," Snow said. "Though, much like Barry and several of the other metas depending on their powers, you won't age normally now, so it's a bit of a moot point. For all we know, twenty years from now…neither you nor Barry will look like you've aged a day."

"Maybe a few years older," Michael said.

Len just stared and stared at his reflection. He wasn't merely a meta with ice powers. He'd been de-aged by almost 15 years after his encounter with Barry, the speed force, and his exploding cold gun.

The one thing that annoyed Len about Barry after discovering his identity had been his youth. The power in him, his energy, the way his body looked and moved, Len loved all that, but his naivety was grating, how little he knew and understood of the world. It's why Len pushed so hard in the beginning, because Barry needed to be better, stronger, smarter. Barry had achieved those things as quickly as he did anything else over the past year, but now Len had caught up with him in the one thing he'd been lacking.

It was all terribly convenient.

Len thrust the tablet back at Cisco. "This doesn't prove anything. None of it proves a damn thing." He swept his arm out to gesture between them all, but particularly at him and Barry—and Michael. "How do we know this isn't some plot? I've seen my fair share of people coming into this city thinking they can get the better of The Flash. I've been one of 'em. If this is some scheme…"

Michael shrank back as Len dropped his voice to a low threat, but it was Cisco who spoke up.

"Dude…he has your eyes."

"And Barry's smile," Snow added.

"Anything can be faked."

"Snart…" Barry tried, but Len rounded on him.

"What? Are you going to defend this kid, who you don't even know and have no reason to trust, or are you going to wise up and realize what bullshit it is? You. Don't. Want. Me," Len said deliberately, with one purposeful, swooping step forward that made Barry cringe. "Why would you?"

Barry's startled expression fell to accusation. "Me? What about you? Why would I have ever thought you were flirting, or even remotely interested before now? What could you possibly like about some gangly klutz of a superhero you constantly call 'kid' and try to attack?"

"Scarlet," Len sneered, "you aren't exactly hard on the eyes in that suit, ya know. Or out of it."

"But we fight," Barry's face scrunched in disbelief, "almost every week. I mean, yeah, it's fun, and…and maybe most of the time I look forward to it, but…"

Len felt some of his anger dwindle in the face of Barry's confusion, in his skepticism that he was worth wanting. Len was the unworthy one; why didn't the kid get that? "Do you think I'd ever hurt you now?"

"Of course not," Barry said without hesitation. "I never have to worry about that with you."

"Exactly. Why do you think that is, huh? Ramon and Snow might be the ones back here making sure you get out of each fight okay, but I am the only one out in the streets making sure you survive, keeping the other Rogues from playing too rough, and keeping anyone who'd go against us out of our city."

Barry's tense shoulders sagged in surprise, and Len wished he hadn't been so forthright by calling it 'our city'. "You do always follow the rules, always make sure no one gets hurt. Is the only reason you don't believe Michael because you can't see any good in yourself? There was even that girl the other week. She got in the way, Heat Wave had me pinned down, I couldn't get to her, but when you saw her…"

Len averted his gaze to the floor as he remembered. He knew Flash wouldn't have forgiven him if he let something happen to a civilian. "I just got her out of harm's way."

"You say that like it's not significant."

"It's not significant if it's still selfish motivation! It's not enough if you only like some warped idea of who you think I am, Barry…"

"We have a son who's a superhero!" Barry exclaimed. "Or at least acting like one. And it's not like I'd expect you to change for me, Snart, or even to do anything different than how things have already been. But you made me a better hero, forced me to be better. Why can't I want the same for you? Why can't I want you to at least try?

"If you spent one month, hell, one week on Team Flash, just trying things from our side, and honestly didn't get the same thrill from that as you do from pulling a heist, then fine, I'd never try to take that away from you. But if you did…god, what if you did? What if you liked playing hero? What if all the things that might have made this impossible stopped being an issue? Because age…wouldn't have been one of them, not for me. Even if it was for you, that barrier's gone now. I might be dense, I never could wrap my head around anyone wanting me, but if the only thing left that doesn't make sense about this is the roles we play…"

Len took a step back as it dawned on him what Barry was arguing for. "You're saying the only thing that would keep you from wanting me is that we're enemies? Not why we're enemies, or any of the things I've done? There's nothing else you don't like?"

That old, familiar, bashful smile teased at Barry's lips, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. What's your taste in music like?" he chuckled.

What could Len possibly do but laugh along, a little hysterically maybe, because…Barry didn't want him to change. He just wanted him to try, to see if he might like life from another perspective, but even if that wasn't to be, he'd still accept Len just as he was.

"So much has changed this past year," Barry said. "You've kept the city safer in some ways, muscling out other groups, keeping the Rogues in check. You always enjoy yourself so much, and you have this…style," that was clearly a blush amidst his wide smile, "and I love how much you love the game, the names and personas.

"That night in the woods, any time it was only you and me, it all just…I don't know. You always made me excited to see you, even to face off against you, even when I was pissed. So maybe I am a fool for not realizing you felt the same, but that doesn't mean I've never thought about it, or wanted this. It just never seemed possible until now. This rhythm, this respect and understanding we have now, if there was a word for friendship where you kind of also sometimes want to punch the other person, we'd at least be that."

"I think that's still friendship," Cisco chimed in, his voice startling after Len had put all of his attention on Barry. "Or rivalmance. You two definitely have that."

Barry laughed, his eyes glancing around at Cisco before centering on Len again, which prompted another blush, another rub at his neck.

A great weight melted out of Len like an avalanche of ice. He was so in love with this boy, he didn't know what to say.

"I just never thought you'd look at me as anything but some idiot kid," Barry said with a shrug, and even that reminded Len of Michael; the physicality, the shyness.

"You are that sometimes, Scarlet," Len said. "But most of the time you're something else, something I can't quite wrap my head around. And you should know by now…" he grinned as their gazes locked, "I do so love a challenge."

Barry grinned back at him, dopey maybe, but beautiful.

A long, lingering, but not at all uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Len could look at Barry for hours, the full form of him, that face, in or out of the suit. He just liked to see Barry, to be with him. It didn't matter if they had their personas in place. It didn't matter what they were doing. Maybe he really could try on a hero's hat for a time and see how it fit.

"Are you two done yet, coz this is getting awkward," Michael's voice brought Len back to the moment, as insane a moment as that might be.

Finally he turned to look at the kid again, and Michael wore an expression of fond exasperation that only a child embarrassed by his parents could achieve.

"Do you believe me now? Can I go home? Nobody thinks I'm some enemy in disguise?"

He didn't sound worried anymore, and try as Len might, much as part of him nagged to be cautious in every situation, skeptical and discerning, he couldn't sense any ill intent now that his main reasons for thinking the kid a liar had been debunked. Barry Allen wanted him after all, at least enough for them to try. Maybe Michael really was…theirs.

They regrouped, debated if there was any additional information they should try to pry out of Michael—not that it would take much—and finally decided that since no harm had been done and they didn't believe the time continuum or whatever it was would suffer from the night's events, Michael was free to go.

Though Snow did seem disappointed she couldn't snag a blood sample, or attempt a DNA test. One look at the kid, if Len was being honest, was enough to forgo that.

"So, I'll…see you around?" Michael grinned his Barry Allen grin at them as he pulled up his cowl and replaced the goggles.

"Seems so," Len said, not exactly sure how to address this Michael Joseph Allen-Snart, or if a handshake would be more awkward than the rest of the conversation had been. But since Barry didn't do more than shrug, wave, and wish the kid good luck, Len figured he could do the same.

"Does this mean in order to keep the timeline correct, you two are going to start dating?" Cisco asked with a slight grimace before Michael took off.

Len and Barry looked at each other. A son was too much to take in for one night, after facing near death and explosions and budding superpowers. A date was less daunting.

"How about some provisionary work with Team Flash, Captain Cold?" Barry said teasingly.

"Provisionary?" Cold repeated, nodding once. "I suppose we could see where that goes. As long as some things about our Friday nights remain the same." He winked.

Barry blushed again, fully aware now of any flirtatious intent.

"Urg, seriously, you two," Michael lamented, then readied a running stance before tossing them a small salute. "Bye, Dad. Pop. See you on the other side." And he was off, disappearing in a blur of blue with streaks of yellow lightning.

As Snow and Cisco lapsed into a heated discussion about meeting a kid from the future, and all the things his existence implied—the genetics breakthroughs themselves remarkable—Len turned to Barry.

"Wanna grab some coffee, kid?" he asked, then frowned as he corrected himself, "I mean Barry. Guess I can't call you 'kid' anymore if there's barely five years between us. Lisa is going to be quite upset that we are practically the same age now. Don't think I'll ever tire of calling you 'Scarlet' though."

Barry chuckled. "Good. I kinda like that one. Your treat tonight?"

"I suppose I owe you that. Piper did get away with the goods after all."

Barry scowled at the reminder. "What are we going to do about The Rogues? I mean…if you start helping us? If you stay?"

Len shrugged, though there weren't any 'ifs' about it. "We'll figure it out." He glanced down Barry's body, at the kid's—the speedster's—S.T.A.R. Labs brand sweats, then looked at his own Cold gear, the black sweater and thermal pants. "Detour first. We're not going out dressed like this. Think you can whisk us away?" He looked at Snow and Cisco again, who seemed to have forgotten them as they discussed Michael.

Barry followed Len's eyes down his own body, down Len's, then at the pair of scientists. He nodded. "Whisking is my specialty," he said, and not for the first time, took Len's breath away in moments.

Michael had only done this once before, on the way to the past to cause his father's meta creation, but he felt confident navigating back through the speed force after his encounter with his parents that he so seriously might have screwed up but thought he'd salvaged by the end. When he surfaced on the other side, in the future where he'd come from, he arrived at the section of the Hall of Justice lovingly referred to as Team ColdFlash to find the same group of people waiting for him that had been there when he left.

"All right, Hailstorm!" Cisco high-fived him as he zoomed past and skidded to a stop beside Caitlin, who was tying back her ice-blue hair.

"Any trouble?" she asked, looking like she was getting ready to switch from her hero role to her scientist role for the evening. Firestorm—or at least the half that was her husband—stood nearby with a pleased smile. Even when he was just Ronnie, Michael thought he saw steam rise any time he and Caitlin touched. She'd taught him almost as much about his powers as Pop had.

"Don't you remember? You were there!" Michael laughed, pulling down his goggles and pushing back his cowl.

"Never doubted you for a second, sweetie. She just means anything unexpected." Aunt Lisa sat hoisted up on the console near Cisco, long legs dangling out of her skirt, hair golden as it wavered in unseen wind and seemed to glow.

"Why? What changed?" Michael asked, eyes darting between them all and finally landing on Cisco. "Did I screw something up?"

Vibe always knew when it came to timelines and alternate universes. Part of his powers were unique like that, and had been what convinced Michael he could actually pull this off when they told him he had to go back in time to ensure Pop got his powers.

"You didn't change anything you need to worry about, Mikey," Cisco said. "Just wizened your folks up a little sooner than the first time around, that's all."

"Sooner? Wait…" Michael flashed over to his uncle, who wore his now customary black, yellow, and red suit, his hair cut shorter with neatly trimmed facial hair. "Did you know I'd mess up like that and meet everyone?"

Cisco's eyes rolled to the side, and the group of adults shared a conspiratorial shrug. Only Cisco himself, because of his powers, and those with him whenever an event like this occurred, were able to retain knowledge of more than one timeline. "Trust us, Mikey, their ignorant flirting sessions weren't good for anyone."

"Oh my god!" Michael pressed his hands to either side of his head. "Why didn't you tell me we were changing things on purpose? What if I'd ruined everything?"

"What's going on in here?" a voice called from the entrance.

Michael spun around to see his parents striding forward side by side, scowls in place on both their faces, and damn it, Michael should have known it was bullshit when Aunt Iris told him about this plan and that the only reason his parents weren't going to be in attendance was because they worried about his safety. She'd been on diversion duty, the big liar.

Barry stepped around Caitlin, in full Flash suit but with his cowl pulled back like Michael's. He barely looked older than how Michael had just left him, maybe five years but certainly not twenty. Len also had his hood drawn back, clad in the sleeveless suit Michael was more accustomed to. Pop didn't look much older either, right in line with Dad, aging at a snail's pace side by side with each other, like all the metas, which was nearly everyone in their ever-growing family now.

"Is this what I think it is?" Len shot an accusing look at Lisa. "Why didn't you tell us it was time to send Michael back?"

"Oh…no reason," Lisa shrugged.

"We just didn't want you to worry," Caitlin said, her lips a dazzling shade of blue to match her hair as she smiled at them.

Not a single accomplice looked truly innocent, but no one who'd been outside the room would ever know that events had once played out differently—and much, much slower.

"It didn't really make that big of a difference meeting me, did it?" Michael asked, moving to join his parents in the center of the room. "I know I saw your confessions and all, but I figure it must have been a slow burn after that. Right?"

Barry and Len looked at each other, sharing a silent moment that Michael was only too used to.

"Oh yeah," Barry finally said.

"Terribly slow," Len added.

"Crawling speed."

"Like a glacier."

A round of snickers sounded from the others.

"They are liars and you should never trust anything they say," Cisco said as he walked up to Michael. "At least not about this."

Michael eyed his parents who were still smirking at each other, suspicions of the others forgotten, or at least deemed unworthy of their attention. "Urg, you guys are the worst," he said, but the second the words left his lips, he flashed forward at speeds only he, Dad, Uncle Wally, and maybe a handful of others could accomplish, and tackled both his parents in matching one-armed hugs hooking each of their necks. "You're welcome, by the way," he said as he squeezed them.

Barry and Len both chuckled, hugging their son back with equal gusto. Michael didn't see the way their smiles fell to something more poignant and heartfelt as they looked at each other around his back and Barry muttered a soft, "Thank you."

Back in the past, Len and Barry never made it to coffee.

Barry flashed Len to the closest safe house where he had clothing they could both change into without having to stop at the West household. Barry still lived at home. Len would have to remedy that if they were going to explore…whatever this was between them. And Joe West would be an entirely different beast to deal with.

Len offered Barry full reign of his closet as he chose some articles for himself. He switched his pants first, but when he glanced back at the lithe speedster, his own black sweater half off over his head, he saw that Barry had, naturally, changed in a flash, and was gently exploring the closet as he looked at the rest of the hanging shirts and sweaters.

He had chosen a deep burgundy sweater, high-collared with a zipper at the neck. It wasn't the right color for Len, and so he rarely wore it, but it seemed right at home on The Scarlet Speedster.

Len had grabbed a grey Henley for himself, but paused as he watched Barry fingering a soft, cream-colored sweatshirt. He let the sweater from his Cold gear fall to the floor, leaving him shirtless, and called to Barry, "Can you hand me that one, Scarlet? I think I need something warmer than what I chose."

Barry jumped, startled at being caught admiring the sweatshirt, but complied at impressive speeds, though not quite Flash level. He turned back to hand Len the shirt and nearly dropped it when he found the other man bare-chested. Barry had never seen him in so little clothing before, or even with his sleeves rolled up, so Len allowed him the moment to take in the full array of tattoos that covered his arms, chest, and back.

"Wow…I didn't know you had so many…wow," Barry said, eyes wide and mouth hanging adorably. He swallowed with a bright blush that Len was growing so very fond of, and thrust the sweatshirt at him, which Len accepted gratefully.

Len smirked in the wake of Barry devouring him with his eyes, deciding that he'd use the opportunity to draw things out, let it sink in for Barry how he didn't mind him looking, not one bit, and pulled the sweatshirt on slowly.

Barry licked his lips. "You really were flirting with me all that time, huh?"

"Not all the time," Len said with a touch of defensiveness; he was also a man of business. "Though apparently, whether I was or not, you couldn't tell the difference." He winked as he pulled the sweatshirt the rest of the way on.

Barry turned away with a crooked grin, catching the flirt this time undoubtedly. "I'll work on that."

They were dressed, all crises averted for the night, the weight of pain and panic all drained away and leaving Len feeling exhausted. Though there was also a thrill running through him that he'd never experienced before. It probably had to do with the fact that he could create ice at will, a chilling cold like what his now destroyed gun had created, his whole genetic code altered to accommodate. But there were a few other things to be thrilled about.

Coffee would be good, to rouse Len from what parts of him were tired, and to give him opportunity to take in the man across from him more, just sitting together, enjoying each other's company without the common adrenaline they were used to when fighting. This was a brand new adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Barry seemed to be experiencing the same thing, leaving them both speechless as they stood there, not knowing what to say, how to move forward, even how to leave the room and find a quiet, cozy place to talk as they'd planned.

"This is weird, right?" Barry said, scratching the back of his neck and then up into his ever-tousled brown hair. "After meeting Michael, I mean."

Len frowned. He had nothing against the kid. He was some remarkable combination of the two of them—and a little of Miss West—with their joint powers and a willingness to face danger and adventure that embodied them both perfectly. But thinking of him as honestly being their son was still too much to take in just yet.

"I'd rather focus on the present," he said.

Barry nodded, but his bashful expression was soon chased away by something sadder, something that caught the corners of his lips and drew them down. "I really thought I'd killed you. I never wanted…I didn't…mean…"

"Barry…" Len stepped forward before the speedster could start tearing up, though his voice spoke of more grief than Len had ever expected anyone would feel for him, aside from his sister and Mick. An embrace felt too strange just now, so Len merely gripped Barry's shoulder.

Barry smiled at him, but it was sad, his eyes downturned to replace the frown. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too. I might even enjoy having—"

Soft, insistent lips stole Len's words before he could finish. He gasped, too stunned at first to react. When he finally came back to his senses enough to respond, it amazed him how soft Barry's lips actually were. They'd always looked supple and inviting, but until tonight Len never imagined he'd get to test that out.

The faint brush of a tongue just barely breeching his lips made him shiver before Barry pulled away.

"Sorry…" Barry said, shaking his head, eyes cast on the floor, "that was stupid, I just—"

Len surged forward to recapture those lips, that tease of a tongue. He'd known Barry Allen for over a year, had studied him, analyzed him, and wanted him desperately since the moment he first knew what the curve of his cheekbones really looked like, not framed by a red mask but free. Len kissed deeper than Barry had dared, and slid a hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Barry made the most delicious, pleased noises, responding to every advance, and opened his mouth wide and willing as they latched onto each other tighter. Len felt a shock between their tongues, like static, electricity, and something deep within him answered the sensation with a shiver that traveled down his arms.

Barry gasped away, "Your hands!" half in surprise, and half with a startled laugh.

Len stared at the sudden space between them, then at the hand, now suspended, that had been holding Barry's neck, and the other that had reached for his waist. Both were covered in ice. "Shit," Len frowned, but relaxed when Barry laughed again. He willed the ice to retreat as he had in the labs. "I guess I'll have to work on that."

"It's okay," Barry said, blushing beautifully, his smile still in place. "Mine do that sometimes too."

"Turn to ice?"

Barry laughed again, stepping into Len's space to press a palm to his chest. "This."

Len trapped the hand with his own when he felt it start to vibrate. It warmed his chest where it touched, tingling and tickling him, and it wasn't difficult to imagine how useful that might be elsewhere.

"Usually I can control it," Barry said, gently tugging his hand away as it stilled, "but some situations are…harder than others." He looked away, and Len got the impression that Barry meant a very specific 'situation'.

"Isn't this going to be interesting? So…should we get that coffee now?"

"Sure," Barry nodded, eyes twinkling with reticence before brightening with sudden confidence. "Just one more minute."

He reached for Len's face, pulling him in until their mouths connected greedily. His lips were remarkable, everything about him, really. Len felt as if he could kiss Barry all night and be satisfied from just that, with the way his lips moved, his tongue swirling so languidly for someone who had a habit of going fast.

They'd only just confessed their feelings and attraction for each other. They hadn't set any ground rules yet for how to go about this provisionary truce with Team Flash. They hadn't even had coffee. They should at least get coffee, go on one real date, before getting carried away. But whenever Len tried to get a hold of himself and pull back from their continued lip-lock, he'd think, just ten more seconds. Thirty. Sixty.

Barry's free hand teased the hem of his sweatshirt.

One hundred and nineteen…

Then Len did something he never did—lost track of time. He couldn't stop enjoying Barry's lips, or the way the lines of their bodies felt pressed together. Barry's hands held to his cheek and waist, occasionally trembling, vibrating, while every so often he'd gasp in a way that told Len his own hands had gone cold again. But it never seemed enough to stop them.

Finally, Barry spoke into the space between them, however little remained. "It's probably weird that I miss the grey, huh? In your hair? I thought it was sexy."

Oh, Len loved this kid. This…man. Barry.

"We really should do coffee. It's been a crazy night," Barry said, though he did nothing to actually dislodge himself from Len's hold.

"Mmm…" Len agreed, "insane." He slid his hands up the back of Barry's burrowed sweater.

Barry's lips were plump and kiss-reddened and glistening, opening and closing as he fought for words. "But I'd also…really like a better look at those tattoos," he finished in a husky whisper.

Len chuckled. He pulled back with some reluctance, but gripped the edge of his shirt, deciding to lift it slowly, echoing how he'd first slipped it on, one tiny peek at a time.

Barry's eyes widened at each new inch of ink. "Then we should go get coffee."

"Definitely."

THE END

A/N:

I'm going with my own twisted and better New 52 universe here, since I like Lisa and Caitlin having powers too but not in any horrible or sad way. Iris made the sacrifice to distract ColdFlash for as long as she could, so she won't actually get to remember both timelines, but she was totally okay with that to follow along with Cisco's plan.

My idea is that something else around this same time would have caused Len to become a meta, but it would have taken a while before they stopped pining for each other and hooked up. Cisco decided to help things along and recruited help, but didn't tell Michael the truth. Since Barry and Len were outside the timeline change, from their perspective they knew that at some point they would need to send Michael back, because they remember having met him. Time travel cross-eyed stuff if you think too hard.

But there! They're the same age roughly, and will have a baby! Happy ending, damn it! And actually, Len eventually getting powers in some way like this will forever be my canon, even for Out Cold, though I'm never going to write that into that fic. Still, I want to imagine this happening at some point (the powers and de-aging if not also Michael) so they can be together longer. :-)

Maybe I'll write a bonus chapter 3 someday of their first time with both their powers tripping them up along the way, lol. Or other people can! Feel free to take off from this idea and run with it.

Oh! And at some point we were talking about a GoldVibe baby too, and people threw around names, and Rafael was my favorite. Also the supervillain/superhero test tube baby reference was obviously Connor/Superboy.