Barry felt a cold chill race through him as though he were narrowly escaping the grasping claws of his brethren.
"Kill Vincent Santini? The one who tried to kill you? But you are not a killer, Len."
"You don't know what I am." Len spoke with bite, remaining facing the window.
"I know your heart," Barry said, slowly moving around him without getting too close so as not to spook him. "That is what I feel through our connection. And what I feel is good and kind and resilient. You know my heart as well, so you know I speak the truth. If you do not believe me, tell me otherwise." He reached out to grasp Len's wrist, and while he felt the man tense, he was able to lift his hand and place it over his heart.
Barry did not mean for Len to feel the rhythm as anyone could, but the truth deeper than flesh and blood, everything he was and longed to be, just as he could feel the same in Len.
Len shook his head as if to dissent, but he stopped, eyes growing distant as he allowed himself to experience the connecting thread between them. To Barry, there was much conflict and loneliness he felt, Len's exhaustion and his desire for peace. Barry assumed Len could feel something similar in turn, because Barry too was tired and lonely.
"There is much more goodness in you than in me," Len said with a drop of his eyes to the floor.
"That is not true. It does not have to be true. What did you do to these men? Stole, you said, but what and why? Are they so terrible that they deserve death?"
"Cash," Len said, snatching his hand away. "I stole cash, okay, which might as well be life and death to these people. I intercepted deposits after they made rounds of the local businesses to collect protection money. Then I gave some back to the shops and the rest to Jesse. Only kept a little for myself.
"For a good long while, I was a ghost. They never saw me, never knew who was behind it, never knew which drops I'd hit and which I'd ignore. But last night they were waiting for me." Len's eyes darted up as he said the words. "Last night they were waiting for me…"
"Len?"
"Axel said word on the street was minimal, but the detectives knew, which means somebody talked. It wasn't common knowledge but someone knew something, and it's too convenient for that to be Santini's men being smarter than usual."
Thinking quickly, Barry tried to remember similar situations from the stories he knew. "You have a…snitch?"
Len snorted, which at least meant his standoffishness had loosened. "Couldn't be any of the lower tier runners. They'd be too scared of Jesse. Has to be one of the inner circle. Not Axel. Maybe he'd betray me for the right reasons, but never his father."
Barry doubted that. Axel was loyal and cared for Len deeply.
"So that leaves Hartley, Shawna, Mark, Sam, or Rosa. Maybe more than one of them."
"Not Hartley, I hope. Axel is smitten."
"I know." Len rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Which means we can't trust his opinion. We don't tell him about this, understand? He has trouble keeping his mouth shut, and it could be any one of those people."
Concern made Barry press his lips together. "Killing Vincent Santini will not be any easier if you have a traitor in your midst."
"I'm aware. But I still have to kill him if I want to stay alive myself. And yes," Len stepped closer to Barry as if to challenge him, "he is a bad enough man that he deserves it."
"Perhaps he does," Barry said solemnly, "but you still do not wish to be the type of man who kills."
"Barry…"
"I will help you, however, if that is what you want."
Len reared back as if Barry had struck him. "You're not helping me kill a man."
"Then I will help however you tell me to." Barry accepted Len for who and what he was. He hoped for Len to believe better of himself, but he would not try to change him if Len was set on this course.
With distress bleeding into the cracks in his expression, Len looked ready to say something more, but a knock at the door interrupted like was so common.
Tension gripped Len's shoulders and he gestured for Barry to be quiet as he walked back to the door and peered through the spyglass. His posture instantly relaxed.
"Mrs. Johnston," he said as he opened the door to reveal a woman a few years younger than Miss Maggie, holding an appliance in one hand and a pan of some sort of baked good in the other. "Toaster acting up again?"
Barry wondered how Len had time to be a mobster when his neighbors came by so frequently. Mrs. Johnston was very sweet, however, and asked politely for Len's assistance with her appliance. The pan was filled with brownies, she said, as payment, and after Len introduced Barry as his roommate—which Barry liked very much compared to being called his bodyguard—he tried one of the treats while Len worked on the toaster.
Brownies were even more delicious than bacon and eggs, sweet and melty like an explosion of decadence on Barry's tongue. He must have betrayed his love for them, because after Mrs. Johnston left, fixed toaster in hand, Len said he could have another one if he wanted.
Barry accepted the offer gratefully, but he was only halfway through eating it when he heard Len hiss at the kitchen sink.
"Damn. Must have cut myself on something," Len said, turning on the facet to rinse away the blood.
Setting his unfinished brownie aside, Barry rushed to grasp the wrist of Len's injured hand.
"Hey, what are you—"
"I know it is only a small cut, but there are benefits to being merfolk when water is near." Holding Len's hand under the water, Barry kept his wrist in one hand and placed his other over the cut.
There was no sparkle to the spell, other than the barest hint of illumination in Len's veins. Then Barry lifted his hand away to show that the cut was gone.
"How…?" Len marveled once more at Barry's magic. It must be so strange to live without any. There was a faint tug as though Len might pull away, but his eyes looked into Barry's and he froze, marveling at Barry himself a little too.
Len's eyes glittered being so close, navy and bright blue combined, lips slightly parted and so inviting. Barry wondered if Len had any idea that their kiss in the water had been his first. He meant it that he hoped more than anything that it would not be their last.
It appeared another was imminent as they stared, Barry's thumb circling Len's pulse point and the distance between their lips shrinking.
The trill from Len's pocket—his cell phone again—was a rude reminder that magic was not prominent in this world but technology was.
Len pulled out of Barry's hold to answer it, and Axel's name blinked on the screen. "Shit. He must have plied his dad for details." Slamming his hand down on the handle of the facet to turn it off, Len answered with impatience. "If it's not intel or good news, I don't—" A sigh. "Yes. I'll do what I have to. We all know this neighborhood would be better off without Vincent, even if his brother would just step up to take his place."
Listening for a few moments, Barry forgot his brownie as Len looked at him in apology and finally moved around him to escape the kitchen. Barry followed only halfway, listening from the doorway rather than hovering in Len's space.
"Right now, I need you to be my eyes and ears. Talk is minimal on me being alive, right? Well make sure it stays that way. Who all knew Santini was after me and when did he figure out I was the one hitting his drops? That's what we need to know so I can make a plan of attack."
Len was serious about pursuing this, and while Axel did not seem pleased with the idea either, he was having no more luck than Barry had at convincing Len to give it up. When they had finished talking, Len thanked Axel and promised they would see each other soon.
"I need a disguise," Len said after he hung up, "and I need to make a few rounds with the people in the neighborhood. If only I knew whether someone was watching from the alley without sticking my head out there." He nodded toward the fire escape.
"Oh. That is a very good idea," Barry said, understanding that Len was in danger and that his detractors could discover him at any time.
He moved to the wall beside the window and placed his palms against it. The sound that erupted from him was not so much a cry the way a whale might make, but more a mystical pulse to see beyond the depths, which worked on dry land just as well.
The ripple effect projected back to Barry a general sense of the surroundings in the direction he faced, and he had an instant image in his mind of the building beyond, the alleyway, and in this case, the lack of people in it, though there were a few birds on the ground pecking at crumbs.
"The alley is clear for now if you wish to exit this way," he said, glancing back at Len, who stood stunned and in seeming awe once more. "I can check again when you are ready to leave so you can find a suitable disguise."
Len's mouth opened, though no sound escaped, not until he closed it again first and started over. "Sonar?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"How clear of a picture can you see when you do that?"
"If there were people? Their number, and general height and weight."
A smile crept into Len's expression. "That will be useful. Let me get ready so we can go."
We. Len would not try to leave Barry behind. He was making progress.
Barry took it upon himself to finish his second brownie while Len changed. Len kept on his darker wardrobe but added a pair of glasses, a ball cap, and a brighter blue hooded sweatshirt.
"How Captain America of you," Barry said. He had enjoyed The Winter Soldier movie very much. Stories of heroes and tales of great love were always his favorite.
He hoped that was the sort of story he was in now.
XXXXX
Captain America? Len didn't mind Barry's taste when it came to films, but he couldn't live up to references of comic book characters.
Not unless he was the villain.
He was skulking about his own streets like a tourist, using Barry to case shops before they went inside. He was protecting himself, sure, but also laying the groundwork for murder. There was no way he could feel good about this.
The route Len took Barry on was the same one Santini's men would make when collecting fees. Len lived right at the border of territories, and technically he was on Santini's side until he crossed that last street to Trick & Treat. The shop owners all knew him and who he worked for, so if one of them had given him up, it would be easy to suss out.
Barry was the decoy and it gave him his wish to explore the neighborhood, not that Len felt any less low about it. He would send Barry in first to put the shop keeps at ease with a new and friendly face. Then he would enter after and wait for the right moment to reveal himself. If any of these people had talked, they would be startled and frightened to see him, but every single one seemed relieved. A few even laughed.
"Leonard," said the surly old man who ran the corner store, "what are you playing dress up for? We got a problem brewing?"
The shop keeps knew the money Len slipped them from time to time was from Santini and meant for Jesse. Jesse knew too; Len wasn't stupid. Jesse liked the Robin Hood act because it made the people love Len, and in turn love him, but people tended to talk, so he had to wonder if any of them had.
"You're with him?" the man said to Barry. "Well you go ahead and take that soda on the house, son. Leonard's good people."
The pit in Len's stomach deepened to hear that, made worse by Barry's smile.
The other businesses turned out much the same, from the mechanic shop to the little antique store barely holding on. Barry was especially enamored there, hands skimming edges of old tables, pictures, and a collection of ancient VHS tapes. Len had to break it to him that he didn't have a VCR to watch them on, but Barry still enjoyed looking at them.
The last stop was the record store, the closest to being in good shape since it skirted the line toward nicer streets and got good spillover traffic on occasion. A lone and very bored young woman covered in piercings and tattoos was manning it today. Len had dealt with her before, not that she ever seemed phased by having mobsters around.
After Len showed his face—everything still on the up and up—Barry exclaimed his truest delight of all being around music. Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" was playing, probably because Trainspotting was on the TV behind the shop girl's head.
"I love this song. I love most music. Is this one from that film? I do not think I know it."
"I'm guessing you prefer happier tales, Barry, so stay away from Trainspotting and definitely stay away from Requiem for a Dream."
Barry was only half listening, sifting through records and CDs as he hummed along to the song, his voice far sweeter than Iggy's. It reminded Len of hearing Barry sing under the water, though he wondered if he'd really heard him because he didn't remember seeing Barry's lips move.
When the song changed to David Bowie's "Golden Years", Barry's eyes closed, and his humming seemed to shift more than simply switching melodies. Len felt drawn in as if only Barry's voice were singing, as if only Barry existed in all the whole world, calling to him like a siren.
Len gasped as he broke free from…whatever that was, feeling like he'd been dreaming, only to see the shop girl out of the corner of his eye staring at Barry with a blank expression, eyes unblinking and glazed over.
Like a siren.
"Barry," Len grabbed his arm.
Barry's eyes flashed open, his humming ceasing, and in the same moment, the shop girl blinked and shook her head in much the same way Len must have when he broke from Barry's spell.
"I am sorry," Barry whispered once he realized where Len was looking and what must have happened. "Usually I have more control over it. I was careless."
"Are there any other mermaid abilities you need to warn me about?" Len whispered back.
"I do not believe so."
Great. They'd finished their errands and needed to get back before any other surprises arose.
Len thanked the shop girl and left, tugging Barry behind him. He could see the disappointment in Barry's face at leaving, but there were more pressing things to be done than browsing records. Len could introduce Barry to YouTube later and he could listen to any song he wanted on Len's crappy computer.
The outing had at least proved that the local businesses were still loyal, and if that changed, Axel would hear about it. Len should have been happy, especially with Barry's powers proving more and more beneficial. Sonar, hypnotism through song, a healing touch under water. It would be so easy to exploit those gifts.
Then Len really would be just like his father.
"This is good, yes?" Barry said when they returned home, climbing in through the fire escape window the same way they'd left. "Your neighborhood shop owners are all fine people. I could sense their honesty and good will."
"Sense?" Len tossed the ball cap onto the sofa. "Like with me?"
"My sense of you is much stronger, but yes, a bit like that."
Next, Len removed the glasses. He'd worn them once for a Halloween costume. Axel had thought it would be hilarious, given his mostly shaved head, if he went as Walter White. "Sure, it's good," Len said, "but it means I'm right that one of the inner circle has to be the one who betrayed me, and all of them saw me alive this morning."
"With me," Barry said, standing straighter in alarm. "I wish only to keep you safe, Len. Please, continue to use me however you need."
Len frowned. Didn't Barry understand how easily he could be taken advantage of talking like that if Len were a different sort of man? "Using people isn't usually seen as an endearment."
"But I am offering," Barry said, innocent as always, his smile sweet as it returned and he moved closer to Len to take his hand. He was always touching him. Usually, Len would have hated that, but with Barry, it was already getting easier to let him. "Regardless of the end-goal, this was nice, seeing where you are from, your home."
"Yeah, born and raised on these very streets. Other places are a lot nicer than here though. If you're a movie buff, you have to know that."
"This feels more real," Barry said with a small shrug, both hands holding one of Len's now and caressing his fingers almost as if he didn't realize what he was doing. "Everything is new. The people are kind. And there is you. Are you a…movie buff?"
"When I can be. Usually watch 'em at home or at Axel's. Don't get to the theater much. Except for this one…" It came to Len as he said it, a reminder of an old theater he and Axel used to sneak off to. "Maybe I can take you sometime."
"I would love to see a movie with you. Do you have a favorite?"
Damn, Barry's eyes, hazel green and shimmering, could capture Len just like his singing, and the touch of his hands sent shivers across Len's skin. "I…always like mysteries. Hidden villains, hidden heroes, secrets to be unraveled. Ever seen Clue?"
"I have not. Does it have a happy ending?"
"Sort of. More a comedy, but I think you'd like it. Assuming we're still alive in a few days to enjoy something like that." Reality kept creeping in no matter how remarkable Barry was.
A fresh knock at the door was so well timed to their arrival that Len wondered how many knocks he'd missed while they were out. He pulled his hand from Barry, who seemed to recognize what he'd been doing finally and looked very sheepish about fawning over him.
It was the kids from the apartment below Len, teens who might have been runaways, high on something and needing their air conditioner fixed even though it was spring and still crisp outside. Len also noticed a few post-it notes on his door, one from the Super who needed assistance with the fuse box in the basement. Len couldn't blame him. The guy was ancient and shouldn't be Super for any buildings anymore.
Before agreeing to help the kids, Len checked his phone to be sure Axel hadn't sent him any warnings. Nothing so far.
Barry accompanied him—his roommate, he introduced him again, rather than tell anyone new that Barry was his bodyguard, since that brought up far too many questions and wasn't exactly believable. Though Len knew Barry might be as strong as he proclaimed considering what he could do with healing and sonar through walls. He would have been annoyed to have so many errands to run being the 'real Super' as Carla often called him, but it took his mind off what he'd have to face soon.
Killing a man. Killing a bad man. A really bad man. A murderer himself who'd tried to kill Len. There should be no conflict of conscience. But then Barry would smile at Len, sweet and adoring, and he felt like throwing up.
"Must be bad karma in the building today," Len said when they were finally finished with everyone else's needs, gathering laundry now that he'd thrown in so they could return Miss Maggie her housecoat. "It isn't usually this steady."
"Perhaps if people from other buildings knew of your skills, you could do this instead of stealing," Barry said—so easily, like anything could be easy if you simply believed enough.
"I can't pay the rent in brownies, Barry," Len said.
"Oh. Yes. You need money. You should ask for money."
"Not from my neighbors."
"From others then. Surely, others would appreciate your knowledge."
"It's not that simple. I'd need money first to buy a shop. People can't just come to my apartment if they're not my friends."
"Like the shop we passed that will be empty soon?"
Barry was observant, Len had to give him that. The thought had crossed Len's mind so many times, what it would be like to make a living doing what he loved instead of scraping by as a criminal. Not that he wanted to clean viruses from porn sites off teenagers' computers for the rest of his life or fix toasters, but there was something gratifying about the work and relationships with people who appreciated what he did.
"There are too many pieces to running a business," Len said, leading Barry out of the laundry room to return to the apartment on the third floor.
"You have considered it then?"
"It's a catch-22."
Barry stared at him dumbly.
"To get enough money to start a business," Len said once they were safely inside, "I need to do bad things. But if I do bad things, I might not be able to come back from them. I might not want to, and then maybe none of my neighbors will want me to fix things for them anymore. So, the only way to get what I want ruins what I want." He threw the bag of laundry at the floor a little harshly. "Story of my life."
"But…you have me," Barry said softly, picking up on Len's irritation, "assuming you wish for me to stay. And I am not ruined. Am I?"
There was fear in Barry's eyes that Len would toss him out onto the street. "Of course you're not—" he started to say but another knock prevented him.
Len longed for a moment's peace, but Barry seemed to know what he'd been about to say and smiled gratefully before Len went to see who was calling.
This time it was Miss Maggie.
"Apologies for last night," Len said as he allowed her inside, followed by Mai coming in at a run. "For the record, it wasn't what it looked like."
"No?" Maggie said, hands on her hips. "And why not? I actually like this one."
Barry's head darted up and he flushed with color, but the next moment Mai was hugging his legs and exclaiming, "Can we play mermaid now?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, young lady," Miss Maggie reprimanded. "We came to cook dinner for these boys."
"What? No, Maggie, now isn't a great time—"
"Is it dinner already?" Barry asked.
They'd grabbed sandwiches from the corner store for lunch, nothing special, though Barry had acted as though turkey and swiss on a croissant was as amazing as everything else he'd tried.
"Miss Maggie heard you walk by from the laundry room," Mai said. "She said you wore her nightgown last night. Did you really?"
"I did." Barry crouched down like before to get on Mai's level. "She was very kind. I…lost my clothing and had nothing else to wear."
"That's silly." Mai giggled. "I bet you looked funny."
"Speaking of," Maggie said, "I assume that was part of the laundry you did."
Barry retrieved the bag to pull the nightgown from it and handed it to her bashfully.
"Great, you have that back," Len hoped to usher them out now after realizing how late it was, "now you two need to go."
"Leonard," Miss Maggie was an immovable wall, "it's casserole night."
"I appreciate that, but I've had enough visitors today. Anyone staying for too long…it could be dangerous," he hissed.
"You're in trouble again?"
"I'm fixing it."
"Fine, then you can come with us," Maggie declared. "We'll cook at my place. Mai, Barry, come along. Carla and Michael should be home soon."
Len imagined this was what having an overbearing mother must feel like, not that he remembered much of his own. He knew he was no match for Maggie though, or Mai and Barry's excitement.
He checked his phone again. Axel had done a good job of grabbing intel during the day, but without telling his friend to look into the higher ups of the gang as Len feared was the real problem, he couldn't be sure where he stood. He'd need to tease out more info himself, and he had to be careful about it. He couldn't just walk over to Santini-run territory and pop the guy on a street corner.
Maybe he did need a dinner break.
Mai held Barry's hand and talked his ear off about what she had done all day while they headed to Miss Maggie's apartment, brownies along to share. Barry explained with equal excitement to the little girl how Len had shown him around the neighborhood. His earnest nature made him right at home entertaining a child.
Carla didn't seem surprised to find Barry with them when she and Michael showed up for dinner from a long day of work—and school and junior lacrosse practice respectively. Luckily, the schools weren't terrible here because, while a ways away, anyone living in these streets were lumped in with a less rundown school district.
Neither of the women brought up Len being in trouble or pried for further details. It was dinner time and the children didn't need to hear about that. Len didn't always get roped into casserole night, but if Maggie happened to catch him, he usually gave in. It was nice to have more than himself at the table sometimes.
"You like sharks?" Michael asked Barry when he finally got a word in edgewise around his sister.
"I do," Barry said. "Sharks are very intelligent and affectionate creatures. Their bite is only for eating as long as you are nice to them."
"You've seen one in real life?"
"Many times. They like to be petted on the nose like a…puppy! Ah, but you should not try that yourself if ever you meet one. They should only be approached in such a manner by a friend they trust."
Michael's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "How do you become friends with a shark?"
"Very carefully," Len said so Barry wouldn't dig any deeper holes.
"How did you two meet again?" Carla asked suddenly.
"I needed a roommate who could watch my back," Len lied, "and we sort of…found each other."
"Roommate, huh?" Maggie said.
"It's not what you think."
"Tell that to my nightgown."
Carla snickered from behind her next bite of food, while Barry kept the children distracted with chatter and cast smiling glances at Len, not minding at all what these women thought of their arrangement. Len didn't mind either, he just couldn't believe that someone like Barry would ever actually be happy with someone like him.
They finished eating, and Barry moved on to safer topics with Michael and Mai, mostly about movies since he could talk quite easily about that. His tastes weren't limited to only Disney, Marvel, or Star Wars either. He had clearly seen a lot of movies in his time.
"Deep Blue Sea is far too frightening for one your age!" Barry said when Michael brought the conversation back to sharks and his favorite shark movie.
"Someone snuck out of bed and watched it from behind the couch one night while his mother was half asleep," Carla said with a mix of frustration and pride.
"And I didn't have any nightmares!" Michael said. "It was super funny when Nick Fury was making this big speech and—"
"Samuel L. Jackson. He's not Nick Fury in Deep Blue Sea," Carla corrected, "and don't talk about adult movies in front of your sister."
Mai was usually quick to pick up on everything she wasn't supposed to, but she was too focused on having someone new in her life and how everyone at the table was finished eating.
"Can we play mermaid now?" she asked Barry again.
"Of course." He smiled at her. "We will have to imagine the water, yes?"
"We could go to the pool, right, Mama?"
"You have a pool?" Barry's eyes brightened at the suggestion.
Len hadn't thought of that. He couldn't let Barry swim in front of these people. "Barry…"
"I suppose we could do that," Carla said, "for a little while."
"Barry doesn't have a suit," Len spoke up quickly, "and I don't have one he can borrow."
"Aww…" Mai whined.
"I'm sure Ralph has one," Maggie said. "He should fit Barry well enough."
Crap. Len didn't have time for this.
And Ralph, the traitor, offered up his suit easily enough as an excuse to do homework with company while his parents worked the late shift.
Somehow, Len ended up poolside in mere minutes—somewhere no one in their building ever went—with Ralph on his laptop, Miss Maggie knitting, and Carla and Barry swimming with the kids.
Len had pulled Barry aside before they got there. "Your tail won't just…come out?"
"No, I can control that, you need not worry."
"What about the chlorine?"
"What is that?"
"It's a chemical they put in pools to keep it sterile." Though Len doubted theirs was the cleanest pool around.
"Chemicals do not affect my kind," Barry said. "If they did, I could hardly go into any water near human cities. We adapt well. I will be fine."
He was. He was also an amazing swimmer, though that wasn't a surprise.
Len could almost see a wave of jealousy in Ralph that Barry was the one closest to Carla, but he seemed to deem Barry a minimal threat if even one at all to his hopeless crush on the woman.
Trying to use this time to clear his mind and consider what his next steps should be, Len lay back on his chosen pool chair and closed his eyes. Santini didn't know where he lived or at least didn't know he was alive—yet. No one had talked but one of the other inner circle members might be behind it. They would likely play it safe for a while for safety's sake—Len would—but then what? He had maybe one more night of peace before things got dicey without any leads. He needed to lay a trap. He needed to save his own skin. He needed to…
Get in the water.
Len had the sudden desire to be submerged, and somehow it didn't scare him despite having nearly drowned last night. The water felt calm and peaceful and welcoming around him like he'd never known in all his life. He wanted so badly to let his tail out.
Startling awake from his half-dozed state, Len realized he'd been thinking like Barry, feeling what Barry felt. They really were connected.
Barry was enjoying his time in the water, pretending to play mermaid with his ankles crossed, but there was longing in his eyes to let the real thing free.
Sitting up fully, Len's hands instinctively reached to check for his wallet, most because he always did that, paranoid as he had to be in this neighborhood, but also because he'd sworn as he lay there that he'd felt something…
Ralph.
"Wipe that smug grin off your face and give it back."
Ralph's sticky fingers were impressive on occasion but he had no poker face. He held the wallet up from where he'd had it hidden behind his laptop. "Actually got it away from you this time."
"I fell asleep."
"You said being opportunistic didn't count as cheating."
"Trust me, you don't want to be like me." Len snatched the wallet back from him. He didn't mean to sound so angry, but he'd started out just like Ralph once. Ralph's parents cared at least, they just weren't around much. "You need to get out of here someday, you hear me? Stick to your studies."
"Like you did?" Ralph shot back. "My parents work so hard, I barely see 'em. My only chance to have something better is with skills, and these are the skills I got. What am I supposed to do, become a cop, fight the good fight?"
"Why not?"
"Because if I did that, someday I'd end up arresting a familiar face." Ralph petulantly returned to his laptop, and all Len could do was frown.
"All right, you two, time to get ready for bed," Carla said as she climbed out of the pool, gesturing for Mai in her floaties to reach up to her. Both kids groaned and begged for more time, but Carla was firm, and soon the party was ending, leaving only Barry in the water.
"Len, do you mind if we stay a bit longer?"
"Sure," Len said, not ready to get up himself just yet, "we can stay."
Carla and Maggie were cordial in their farewells for the night, the kids too, but Ralph didn't say much more than a "Later" thrown at Barry. He just didn't understand.
Seeing the expectant look on Barry's face after the others were gone, Len went to the doors to lock them.
"Go ahead. But we can't risk it for too long."
Barry smiled back at him brilliantly; even though the pool lights at night were dim, he could have lit up the whole room.
He pushed off the side of the pool in a backwards dive into the water, disappearing swiftly. Before Len returned to the edge, the borrowed trunks came flying up to land with a splat on the side. Len ventured closer and saw the transformation already complete, a vision of red cutting through the water in twists and turns, sparkling like Barry was covered in sequins.
He really was glorious, every bit the fantasy conjured in paintings and fairytales. The pool wasn't deep enough for him to shoot up like a fish and dive back down, but he still kicked with his tail out of the water a few times, allowing Len to take it in and how large the tailfin was when it fanned out behind him with a flourish.
Sitting at the edge of the pool, Len didn't care that his jeans got a bit wet, though he still took off his shoes and socks and rolled his jeans up almost to the knee before dropping his feet over the edge to dangle in the water.
"Len," Barry came up with a splash, swimming over to him like he was floating on air, "join me."
Len laughed. This was all too crazy not to. "I don't have a suit, remember? And I'm not putting on the wet one or getting my clothes soaked."
"Then…what is the phrase…skinny dip!"
"Not happening," Len said, sharper than he meant to, but stripping by moonlight for a near stranger, no matter how magical or adorable, was not something he was up for tonight.
"You do not wish for me to see you," Barry said glumly.
"It's not… I'm just not feeling it right now, okay?"
Barry swam a while in silence, sometimes with his head above the water, tail splashing playfully, other times like a blur in the depths, but eventually he came up, his brunette floof of hair slicked back, and drifted closer to Len at the edge.
"Will you really kill this man?" he asked, and Len gave a deep sigh.
"I have time to figure out how. Jesse's not expecting it overnight."
"But you have not killed before."
"No."
"Why do you wish to start?"
"Because I have to." Len kicked at the water angrily, and Barry floated around him to approach from the side.
Not that Len would have… He hadn't meant to…
"Do you? Have to?" Barry pressed. "I can protect you, Len."
"Barry…"
"I come from a race of killers, but I choose to be different."
Killers? Looking like that? Len hardly believed it, but he didn't think Barry was the type to lie. "Because you have a choice," he said.
"You think it has been easy for me?"
This was getting too heavy, too real, and Len still wasn't sure about his plan. "Are you done?" He gestured at the water as he pulled his feet free and stood. "I need to get some sleep and I don't want to leave you down here alone."
"We can go up. All I ask is that you allow me to help you."
"Let me sleep on it, okay?"
Barry lifted himself out of the water without an ounce of effort, showing off some of that strength maybe, and right then he had legs, naked again too, since his suit was on the floor. "May I sleep with you?" he asked as he picked up the trunks to uncomfortably slide them back over his legs for the walk upstairs. "I mean, may I share the bed with you? Please?"
"Yeah. Of course. It's fine." It wouldn't help Len sleep, but he couldn't ask Barry to take the couch, and he didn't want to sleep there himself. He really did enjoy looking at Barry, which was going to either give him pleasant dreams or make it impossible to sleep while daydreams flitted through his mind instead.
Barry didn't press about Santini any further, didn't speak much more at all. Len got ready for bed, while Barry, somehow, without showering or brushing his teeth or doing more than pat gently at his head a moment with a towel to get rid of the denser drops of water, was suddenly clean and fresh as a daisy. Even smelled it, like rain after a storm.
It might not be a power Barry understood, but it was definitely a power.
He would have preferred to sleep naked, he said, but he agreed to wear underwear to bed. It didn't help Len, however, to watch that long, lithe body, clad only in too tight boxer briefs, climb into bed with him. He needed to get Barry some clothes of his own tomorrow.
"Good night, Len," Barry said with a smile that wanted but didn't ask.
Len didn't want to be someone who would take. He wasn't sure where the line was between allowing Barry agency and taking advantage, but for now all he could bring himself to do was sleep.
Amazingly enough, he drifted off easily. He'd nearly fallen asleep earlier, after all, bone-weary from almost dying and having his world turned upside down.
Only his dreams weren't the pleasant ones of sun-kissed skin and boyish grins that he'd hoped for, but of drowning again, very different from his shared half-dream with Barry at the pool. The water wasn't welcoming anymore, but dark and hiding terrors.
Something deadly was in the water with Len, something with skin the color of blood and razor sharp teeth. Something with claws like knives, and eyes that same deep red, almost black like voidless pits.
And it was hungry, wanting nothing more than to possess Len entirely.
He awoke with a gasp like choking on water again. He'd almost died. He'd learned mermaids were real. In a few days, he'd either be a murderer or dead himself. Of course he was dreaming about monsters.
After catching his breath, he reached toward Barry to make sure he was okay, but his hand came down on nothing. Len sat up quickly. He couldn't hear anything, so Barry couldn't be awake. Had something happened? Had Barry left? Had Len dreamt it all?
Then his tired eyes took in the lump in the covers below the empty space, and he lifted the comforter to peek underneath, discovering that Barry was curled up in a very small ball in the center of the bed. No wonder, really, he was used to sleeping beneath several tons of water.
A knock at the door brought Len right back to yesterday, only at least this time he knew it wouldn't be Miss Maggie holding Barry by the arm in her housecoat. It was probably Ralph using needing his swim trunks back as an excuse to give Len a side-eyed apology for being a little shit last night.
Padding across the apartment barefoot and in sleep clothes like the unfairest of déjà vu, Len was still only half awake when he wrenched his door open.
"What—" but his greeting died on his tongue when he saw the three Santini goons who'd weighted his ankles.
Len desperately tried to shut the door, berating himself for being so careless when he knew this could happen, but they were too strong for him, armed and ready to take him out.
The largest burst in first as Len stumbled back from the force of their push.
"Hey there, Snart. Fancy seeing you here—alive. Guess we're gonna have to remedy that."
TBC...