As something annoying flutters by Len's forehead, trying its best to wake him up, he reflects on why it is it's so easy for him to fall asleep in Barry's apartment.
Vaguely inspired by the post post/152687484953/prompt-532. Also, I think this story is just going to turn into a series of one-shots about these two dunderheads in bed xD
Len, in general, is an extremely light sleeper.
He can fall asleep practically anywhere, but the slightest shift in air pressure, the tiniest creak of wood, the quietest inhale or exhale of breath will rouse him from unconsciousness to battle ready in a blink. It's a skill garnered from childhood – his need to stay aware of his mom's progressively worsening illness, tracking his dad's location in the house when the man would come home angry and drunk, or to keep an ear out for his sister, since Len couldn't rely on his dad to calm her nightmares … especially considering the fact that he was one of them.
As an adult, living in his own safe house, Len tends to sleep with one eye open.
The only place he's ever been able to completely knock out is Barry's apartment.
It didn't start out that way. Len felt on his guard spending the night at Barry's place, not just for himself (being a wanted criminal hooking up behind enemy lines, so to speak), but for Barry. He needed to protect Barry from people who might try to use this relationship against Len. Or from other villains who were under the misapprehension that they and Len were on the same page with regard to eliminating The Flash, who might try to do Len a favor by offing Barry in order to get on his good side.
Lisa calls it Len's alpha wolf mentality – him trying to protect his mate. (God, does he hate that word - mate.) She also pulls an obnoxious cutesy face and a cooing noise when she talks about it that makes him want to ground her for a week the way he could years ago, when he was close to twenty and she was still a kid.
But Len has never let Lisa in on the fact that, secretly, he likes the idea of being Barry's "alpha wolf" - the protector of the protector of Central City.
The more nights Len spent at Barry's apartment, the more he realized how insanely protected Barry already was. Barry had monitors and micro-cameras in place that connected him to S.T.A.R. Labs, to Cisco and Caitlin 24/7; alarm systems that would bring most of CCPD to his door if they went off (Joe's idea, Len was sure); and motion sensor activated klaxon deterrent systems where, without the correct combination of key codes and passwords entered within the space of thirty seconds, a person couldn't sneeze in the hallway outside Barry's apartment without bringing law enforcement from all over straight to his home.
Those protocols should have been a huge red flag for Len; kept him a mile away from Barry's place. But not because he was afraid of getting caught. Barry swore that he wouldn't let that happen … not unless Len did something that forced his hand. All that security started to give Len an illusion of safety. That as long as he was in Barry's apartment, nothing could touch him. For the first time in his life, he knew what an honest-to-God, good night's sleep actually felt like, and he couldn't make that a habit.
Len tried to avoid sleeping at Barry's place for a while. He didn't want to get spoiled and lose his edge. But being with Barry, as well as his stint on the Waverider, had started leading Len to believe that maybe he didn't have to be a criminal forever. He could join the private sector, live a quiet life, have a house, and a car he didn't choose because it was relatively indistinguishable, could survive a head on collision, could be stripped down for parts in an emergency, and wouldn't be readily missed.
He began to see himself settling down, starting a new life with someone who got him, who accepted him for who he was, the good and the bad, and loved him regardless.
Someone like Barry.
He has those visions when he's asleep in Barry's arms more than anywhere else.
But if Len could stop being a criminal, could Barry stop being a superhero? One is just as dangerous, just as morally ambiguous, and just as difficult to live with as the other.
He starts thinking about that now for some reason - the future, that is - as something soft whispers past his temple. Assuming it's an insect, he raises a hand to brush it away, but it's a persistent motherfucker, returning to the same spot and settling there. It's joined by something strong and warm snaking around his midsection. It slowly tightens, which gives Len a jolt.
Not because it worries him at all, but because he likes it.
It's not until the fluttery-tickly-feathery thing camped out on his forehead starts trailing down his neck that he begins to come to his senses and realize what exactly is attempting, in the most subtly seductive way possible, to wake him from his sleep.
And Len laughs out loud.
"What the hell are you doin', Barry?" he slurs.
"I knew that your alarm was going to go off soon," Barry explains, trying not to sound too insulted by Len's laughing, "so I thought maybe we could, you know, fool around before you had to go and do whatever it is you're doing today."
Barry's emphasis and subsequent silence begs Len to give him the 4-1-1 on what's going down ... and maybe offer him the opportunity to change his mind.
Len's sleepy chuckle tells him succinctly that Barry doesn't want to know, and that Len has no intention of telling him anyway.
Len feels Barry roll away from him with a heavy sigh, ready to go back to sleep for the remaining hour before their night together ends, and makes a grab for his arm.
"Wha- who told you to stop, Allen?"
"I thought that was the whole point of you asking me what the hell I was doing," Barry grumbles.
"Yeah, I was asking, but that doesn't mean I wanted you to stop," Len mutters, tugging Barry back over.
"Really?" Barry asks, mildly hopeful that if he can keep Len distracted, he might change his mind about his plans for the afternoon.
Fat chance, Len thinks, knowing Barry's motives. But he can't blame Barry for trying. It's one of the reasons why he loves his boyfriend so God dammed much.
"Really," Len says. "So, keep going. Just, you know, aim lower."
