Mick disrupts everything, while Barry spirals further down the rabbit hole.

Len pushed quickly into the apartment to block Barry from Mick's trajectory. He felt the kid come in behind him and shut the door, but thankfully Barry stayed quiet despite the 'pretty' comment.

"How did you—" Len cut off before the thought could finish. "Lisa. Mick, you don't know—"

"Damn right I don't know," Mick loomed over him as he snarled in Len's face, "coz you figured it was all fine and dandy to take on Alexa without callin' yer best friend. Or is that only true when feedin' yer guilty conscience?"

"Hey, hang on—" Barry stepped around Len—shit, no.

"Can it, Flash," Mick roared, face red and fists tight like he was itching to hit something, and since he obviously knew Barry's identity now, why not something he'd used as target practice before?

"Back off." Len shouldered between them as Barry rose up, ready for a fight—absolutely not. "Both of you," he snapped at Barry, because seriously, did he not get the old adage about playing with fire? Len faced Mick with Barry safely at his back. "What did Lisa tell you?"

"Enough," Mick said. "That Alexa's back and plannin' somethin' big, with a whole slew of fodder to throw around and Bivolo on her payroll. That yer workin' with Spark Plug here to take care of it and gettin' all cozy with him—"

"Not cozy, geez," Barry spoke over Len's shoulder, "we're not—"

"Yer in his god damn apartment!" Mick bellowed.

Len spread his arms to prevent himself from being flattened between a rock and a hard place. "Do you want Evelyn pounding down my door?" he hissed.

Mick retreated but pulled on a sharp smirk. "Please, I checked with Evie first, ya think I'm crazy? She's out enjoyin' Sunday brunch, which is where I'm guessin' you two strolled in from. Playin' house ain't gonna get Alexa before she gets you."

"Just listen, okay?" Barry said, seizing Len's arm and pulling him back to take his place facing Mick. Anxiety rippled through Len—and irritation. He didn't need to be saved; he was trying to keep Barry from a broken jaw, even if he could heal it in hours.

Mick breathed heavily through his nose like a bull preparing to gorge someone.

"We literally can't be away from each other for more than ten minutes without Len's heart stopping because of what Bivolo did to him," Barry explained. "He didn't choose to work with me, he has to. He didn't want to involve you because this is complicated enough without us getting into a screaming match. He's not sneaking behind your back, he was just trying to protect you."

The fight dwindled from Mick's fists, but he still grumbled, "Coz ya know him so well all of a sudden, don't ya?"

Amazingly enough…he did.

"I was the one who helped him with Lewis," Barry spat. "Where were you?"

Len knocked Barry back before Mick could swing at him, shooting him a glare to express how out of his mind he must be. Turning back to Mick, Len expected to find his friend seething, but Mick deflated that much further, fists loosening as he stepped back.

"Got any beer in this place?" he said, retreating for the kitchen. Retreating. That ship really had changed them.

"It's 10:30," Barry scoffed.

Len shot him one more look for good measure, because really?

"If Evie's downin' Bloody Marys and church goers havin' Mimosas, I can have a beer." Mick snagged a bottle from the fridge and popped the top without an opener, taking a liberal drink before he met Len's eyes again.

How much had he been doing that lately, Len wondered? He'd dragged Mick up from the bottom of a bottle too many times. But this wasn't the same Mick. Len didn't even know this Mick, who'd gone from getting soft on Raymond to betraying them to the pirates to being turned into a monster by the Time Masters when Len couldn't think of a better way to control him beyond abandoning him to chance.

Never once in thirty years had Len feared Mick. A punch, a brawl, even the butt of a gun, maybe, but never real fear that Mick would do worse than Len could walk away from. He certainly never expected Mick would ever, could ever threaten Lisa. But after the pirates, Len realized he'd pushed too far and didn't trust his own senses if Mick could choose strangers over him and expect him to bail on their team along with him.

Len had been so shaken and not able to face it, he'd dropped Mick somewhere far away, thinking he could salvage it later—later—only for Chronos to threaten his baby sister and put real fear in Len's belly from his best friend. He'd had to save Mick after that, any way he could, any sacrifice necessary to bring the real Mick back.

Was this him? Len didn't know, but he'd still come at Lisa's call.

"Did you see her?" Len asked, moving toward Mick at a measured pace as his friend leaned against the island.

"Lisa? Sure. Stopped at her place first," which shouldn't have made Len flinch, "Said you'd be here. Said I should ask you what's what and play nice with Red." Mick dragged his eyes down Barry's lean figure as the kid came up next to Len. "He even legal?"

Barry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "I think you need to check the definition of playing nice."

"Didn't say I agreed to listen to her advice now, did I?" Mick gruffed out.

"Stop." Len pushed his fingers against his temple. This was not a merry-go-round he wanted to keep repeating. "Mick…how'd you get here? You swipe the drop-ship?"

"Pfft, didn't need to. Sara relayed the message Lisa sent to Gideon. Said you'd told her 'bout The Alexa Job but not the whole truth. So I said we needed to get back here since you were being an even bigger dumbass than usual. She convinced Rip the team needed some shore leave and here we are."

"Sara's in Central too?" Len's throat tightened at the prospect.

"Her mother lives here."

"Sara Lance?" Barry questioned, watching Len like there was something telling to be read in his expression. Len kept his eyes on the counter, unsure how to sift through the confusing swirl of emotions growing in his gut.

"Now this is rich," Mick chuckled before taking another swig of beer. "Red don't know he got competition?"

"Mick." Len's eyes snapped up.

"What?" Arms dropping from their defiant stiffness, Barry's face went equally slack. "You're seeing Sara?"

"No." Len turned to him, already feeling a twinge from the hurt and betrayal on Barry's face.

"Snart tried to get things rollin'," Mick kept on when Len just wanted him to shut up. "She turned his ass down. Went for the kid instead, huh?"

Len was going to lose his breakfast all because Barry looked nauseous. He wasn't like Iris. Barry wasn't a consolation prize for him, he wasn't.

"We're not together," Barry retorted like he only just then registered the rest of Mick's words. "I'm only here because I have to be."

Fuck, that hurt, spiking a very different kind of pain through Len's chest.

"And to help with Alexa. So if you're here to join the team and help us bring her in, let's keep the focus on that."

"Barry…"

"That's what I want right now," Barry spoke over Len and shifted his eyes away like he couldn't stand to look at him directly. "Okay?"

Len had to explain, had to reassure Barry somehow, but not with Mick here. Turning to his partner, who kept sneaking glances at them between drinks like they were the most entertaining thing he'd seen all week, Len demanded, "Who else knows about this?"

Mick shrugged. "Ray's around."

Perfect. "You wanna help, Mick, you follow my lead. No going off on your own agenda. I don't care what bone you have to pick with Alexa."

"You mean the same bone you do coz she boned both of us and royally fucked us over?" Mick slammed his beer down on the counter, causing Barry to look even greener around the edges with another of Len's failed exploits out in the open. "I did right at the Vanishing Point. Push came to shove, I chose the team. You don't get to order me around—"

"And you don't get to go see Lisa when she doesn't know what you said you'd do to her when Chronos wanted revenge," Len barked, feeling that rare anger boil up inside of him that seemed so much quicker to rise after Bivolo's influence, opening him up to feel without holding back.

He rocked away from Mick on his heels, realizing how he'd rushed the counter and gotten in his friend's face, feeling the sting of his nails digging into his palms and seeing the same expression on Mick that he'd had at the Oculus when he'd resigned himself to die.

They'd never talked about it. They didn't talk about things like that. Len couldn't handle the emotions between them with Barry standing behind him, with one of the few ghosts he and Mick shared back to haunt them, and days of tension wrapped in centuries Mick had suffered through because Len couldn't do right by the ones he loved.

"You don't want me to see Lisa…fine," Mick said, not railing back, not really. "So when she comes calling to help school your ass, what do I say? Shut her down? Walk away? Like you've gotten so good at?"

Shame swelled up inside of Len. It was all too quiet and bitter, this fight. He'd rather their fists were flying. That was simpler, easier.

"Forgiveness ain't what we do, right?" Mick went on. "Just tolerance. You puttin' up with me coz I'm useful. Well I gotta put up with you too, pal, don't think yer all shiny and flawless just coz Sparky here's showing you a good time."

"We're not—"

"Whatever," Mick spat at Barry before turning his intense, focused eyes back on Len that held too much history, too many years in them that Len hadn't been a part of—like wisdom mixed with madness. "Want me to follow yer lead? Bivolo put some sort of spell on ya, ya said? Tied to Red like a yo-yo that'll snap if you get too far apart? Yeah, real grand example yer settin' so far."

Len squeezed his eyes shut, feeling that oncoming headache no matter how hard he tried to will it away. "We're working on it," he said when he opened his eyes. "We come up empty to fix that today, we'll hit the streets tomorrow to find a lead. Wanna help? Get your nose to the ground and meet us at Saints tomorrow. Noon. We'll sort this out then." Len needed a moment to breathe without Mick standing close enough for him to see his failures staring back at him.

Mick frowned around Len to glare at Barry. "Trouble in paradise to fix already, huh? Fine, get rid of me." He pushed from the island counter to head for the door.

Arm flying out to stop Mick as he tried to sweep past him, one of very few people Len had any reflex to touch in moments like this, he held his friend by the elbow, knowing that when things were this strained they could easily lead to blows. "You can see Lisa," he said, feeling shitty for ever saying otherwise, "but she doesn't know everything that went down. For your sake, I didn't tell her."

"My sake?" Mick said, inches between them and miles at the same time. "Bet you didn't tell her about almost needin' a funeral for ya neither. Whose sake was that for?"

"Hers."

Mick huffed and wrenched his arm from Len's hold. "Big damn hero, thinkin' of everybody but yerself, and ya still don't trust me."

"I trust you, Mick, but Lisa…" There was that emotion again, all right there at the surface, bleeding out but not easy to face, not like his love for Barry that poured forth without censorship, because he'd never been carefree with how he felt, not for anyone, not even for his sister. But even what he couldn't say came more easily to his expression now like a crack in his mask. "I almost lost her once," he said, thinking of his father without having to say it for Mick to understand. He stared into his friend's eyes as if to add, then I almost lost you. "I can't…" Len choked and coughed through clearing his throat because this was too much this early on a Sunday, god damn it. "I'm handling this shit poorly, alright? All of it. I admit that."

"Hmph," Mick snorted. "Ya think?"

"Mick…"

"Yeah, yeah," the larger man said, stepping back but not to escape Len this time, just to clear the air between them that finally felt less thick and rancid. "I'll give ya space with lover boy. Saints. Tomorrow. Noon. Don't do anything exciting without me. There another run in with Alexa's men, I expect a call. Go figure out yer yo-yo problem." He waved a hand at Barry like shooing off a gnat but settled his gaze on him with a touch of deference slipping in. "Pissed ain't a bad look on you, Red. Almost intimidating."

Reaching back to snag his beer, Mick chugged the rest and slammed it on the counter again. He was out the door the next second without any formal goodbye and the silence left behind might as well have suffocated Len in Barry's company.

The kid's conflicted expression, not understanding everything that had gone on between them, didn't banish the indignant embers beneath. "I'm going to gather my things," he said in a quiet voice as he turned to cross the living room. "We should get to the Labs."

So much for lazy and mindless. "Barry, it's not what you think. Sara and I were never—"

"I don't need to know," Barry spun around still backing away from him. "You obviously had no intention of telling me. Hell, maybe that was Bivolo's fault too because it would disrupt the lie if you admitted your real feelings are for someone else. Fine. Forget it." He spun again and kept moving for the bedroom. "Doesn't matter anyway. There's nothing between us."

"Barry." Len had to sprint to catch up with him, wanting to reach out but dreading being swatted away. At least Barry paused, stilled in the doorway. "You don't believe that. You feel something for me."

"Pity," Barry fired over his shoulder. "Frustration."

"More than that. I've seen it. I know—"

"It doesn't matter," Barry whirled again and leaned forward sharply enough to make Len flinch, something untamed and wild and suffering taking hold of him. "The situation's all fucked. I almost believed there might be some part of you that…" He squeezed his eyes shut leaving only the suffering to remain, changing focus on a dime like only a speedster could. His eyes shimmered when he opened them. "Even with meta powers involved, I'm never anyone's first choice."

Realizing what he'd just said, what he'd admitted out loud, Barry's face turned panicked and he backed up another step into the bedroom.

"You are." Len followed him, risking reaching for him, needing to touch, to hold him, but Barry continued to back away. "You're the only choice. I wouldn't lie. I can't lie to you. I've kept things from you because that's…how I am, how I live, but I would never lie. Never again. I love you too much—"

"Stop saying that," Barry shook his head.

"But I do. I love you so much, Barry—"

"You don't love me!" he flashed forward with a spark of lightning flickering through the dark room and pushed Len away just as his fingers had grasped Barry's shirt.

It was the first time Barry actively denied Len other than the kisses he'd shied from. Len didn't expect Barry to simply accept him or his need for contact, he never expected that, Barry didn't owe him anything, but it still hurt to have Barry look so repulsed—with him, with himself, with all of this.

But Len knew the truth. He wasn't crazy. He loved Barry. He just had to prove it and banish the pain staring back at him that made his chest feel like it was burning.

Searching Barry's face for understanding, Len swallowed down the ache. "You were hit with Bivolo's powers once before."

Barry scowled, unwilling to meet Len's eyes amidst the shame he felt for using his powers like that. "Yeah. Rage. So what?"

"So. Was all of the rage you felt unfounded? Did it come from nothing? Or did it start from what was already there?"

"This is different—"

"Because his powers pushed you to say and do things you wouldn't have, but the emotions were real."

"You're twisting this around!" Barry yelled.

Len didn't want to yell in kind, he wanted to comfort. He wanted Barry to be happy. He wanted to do right by the kid like he kept failing to do with everyone else. "Am I? Maybe I wouldn't say most of this. Maybe I wouldn't do the things I've done. But wanting you was always there. I wouldn't have called it love, you're right. Wouldn't have admitted to it. And maybe it was infatuation more than anything, but it wasn't nothing.

"I know you don't feel the same." He took a cautious step closer, causing Barry to rear up only for his legs to hit the edge of the bed. "You don't love me back. But if you ever could, I need you to believe that you are better than anything I would ever ask for. You are the first choice I'd make in any life if I thought I had a chance. This feeling has to be based in something real because it is the only good I've known in a long while."

For a moment, the moisture building in Barry's eyes almost spilled over, and though Len didn't want to make the kid cry, he knew it would be a sign that he'd reached him, that Barry believed him. But then the fog of tears faded as recognition filled his face instead.

"You mean aside from that ship?" Barry looked at Len with a sudden hollowness. "Aside from doing the right thing and saving your best friend? Aside from making new friends? Aside from Sara?" he said like an accusation. "Am I really the only good in your life, Len, even more so than Lisa? Or are you just compelled to say that?"

Words evaporated before Len could form them. He was never left gaping, never left without a comeback. But it was a trap, an awful, binding cage with no locks to pick. There was no answer that let him win, because he couldn't deny that all those things Barry had listed off were good, of course they were, he'd been so overwhelmed by the good of those things…he'd had to leave.

But Barry… He was still so… Wasn't he…? Len had to be… He knew that… What he felt was… It… He…

"Hey."

Len's brain was so caught up in short-circuiting, mouth floundering for the right words, he didn't see Barry clearly until the kid came closer and gripped his shoulder. He gasped at the nearness, unable to stop the stray tear that spilled down his cheek and—shit, shit, why was he crying?

"It's okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Barry pulled him in, wrapping long arms around his frozen body, but even then, Len felt like something important had been broken.

He sunk into the comfort of Barry's touch.

"I shouldn't be angry," Barry said beside his ear. "You're the one who's hurting. You're the one they duped into feeling like this. You shouldn't have to waste all this effort on me. I'm not worth it. You should focus on the real good in your life. On Lisa and patching things up with Mick. You obviously love each other. Only family can drive you that crazy," he chuckled and sniffled and held Len tighter. "He's your family. And Lisa. And maybe…maybe even the Legends."

Was that the problem, Len wondered? Because family either let him down or he let them down, and he didn't need more of that grief. But he wanted it, deep down where it couldn't hide when his eyes were this wet—he wanted it.

He just wanted Barry too.

Len hugged him back—tight, too tight—dampening Barry's shirt while his own shoulder suffered the same. "I don't want you to hurt either," he said. "Tell me you believe that, Barry."

"I believe that."

"I want you safe."

"I believe that," Barry said again.

"I want you happy."

"I…I-I don't know…"

"I want you happy," Len asserted.

"Okay," Barry murmured into his shoulder.

The only thing left was to say how much Len loved Barry, but he couldn't do that, couldn't kiss him, couldn't force any of the things Barry had asked him to stop offering. So he said, "I want…to get a drink when this is over," and pulled out of Barry's hold. "When it's all over. As those strange friends we could be. Can we do that?"

Barry smiled despite his glittering eyes. "Yeah, Len. We can do that. I'll even pay."

"I should think so," Len pulled a smirk. "It's your turn again."

Barry laughed, and it was as beautiful a sound as ever, but they were both too choked for comfort.

"Get your things, Barry." Brushing off that stray tear like flicking a fallen eyelash, Len sucked down the rest that hadn't fallen. "I'm gonna use the bathroom before we go." He turned before Barry could respond, feeling torn up and glued back together the wrong way, but at the same time…more certain than ever about what he had to do to become whole.

Barry thought everyone he fell for was bound to be like Iris, only wanting him as a fallback even if they didn't recognize that themselves. Len did have feelings for Sara, but they paled in comparison to what he felt for Barry. They had to—they had to.

He would win Barry's love—by proving Barry was worth loving, whatever it took to show him that.

Falling back against the bathroom door with fresh resolve, the ache in Len's chest lessened.

Wake up. You have to wake up.

But Len could barely hear the distant voice. It was all just buzzing noise when what mattered most was Barry.

Caitlin and Cisco were already at the Labs when they arrived, surprised to see them there so early.

"Figured you'd at least wait til lunch," Cisco said. "You up for more already, Len?"

Len shouldn't have to be, he deserved the break Barry had promised him, deserved MST3K and a few hours to relax, but Barry had been too selfish and ruined everything. It had just stung so much to build up an idea in his head of Len actually caring for him outside of Bivolo's control only to find out that even if the real Len felt something for him, he was still only an afterthought.

Barry shouldn't be so hurt when he knew Len's feelings for him weren't real, but it still lingered like a bad bruise.

They got nowhere with suggestibility or breaking Len of his hypnosis, though Caitlin swore his brain activity was headed in a positive direction.

"Just a few more days or…" weeks, she didn't say because they didn't have that kind of time, "or a little longer and we should make some headway. In the meantime, we can focus on the case and hopefully track down the source."

Track down Bivolo, she meant. Easier said than done, though Cisco had a number of leads for them to follow up on now, Joe too, and Len had several ideas for how Heat Wave could be a help instead of a hindrance.

Lisa did not show up at the Labs but messaged them about joining the meet-up with Mick tomorrow. Len promptly gave Cisco the stink eye after relaying the message.

They kept expecting another heist, during the day, then once night fell, but nothing happened, not even a normal Flash call came in. All was quiet in Central City.

"It's on purpose," Len said, "to throw us off, prevent predictability." But if he knew any more than that, he couldn't say it.

They called it another day and headed home—Barry's home—so he could pack for a longer stay at Len's. Joe was there, of course, and Wally, but at least there was no sign of Iris. Barry wasn't ready to face her yet or to explain what was happening.

"Why is Barry spending the night with Captain Cold?" Wally stood stiff and on guard leaning against the back of the sofa while Len waited in the entryway.

Barry zipped about, up and back down the stairs, able to keep an ear on the conversation as he gathered his things from around the house. Joe was far more on guard than Wally, obviously not wanting another of his kids to get involved in all this crazy.

"We're moving in together," Len said, with a tease in his voice that Barry knew was only to watch Wally gape and to fill Joe with bluster. "Didn't you know we've been dating for a year?"

"That's not funny, Len," Barry appeared with a small suitcase and backpack, finally ready to go. He was too harried to be upset but also wasn't in the mood for jokes. "It's for a case, Wally. Joe can explain if he wants to."

Joe's expression said not bloody likely.

"Hopefully, it'll only be a few more days, then we'll have everything sorted. All we need is one solid lead to pan out so we can track one of Alexa's men, or Bivolo himself, and the rest will fall into place." It had to. "I'll keep you posted, Joe," Barry said, as he situated his backpack over his shoulders to more easily carry everything and Len. Maybe they needed to start using Len's motorcycle more often. It was becoming too comfortable having the man in his arms.

"You better," Joe said, before nodding at Len like offering a silent shovel talk, which really didn't help matters.

Then they were off, back to Len's apartment, only earlier this time, too early to fall into bed. They were on call in case any nefarious activities happened during the night, but they didn't anticipate anything given the pattern.

Night heist. Day heist. Nothing. Alexa might set something in motion for tomorrow, or maybe she wouldn't, hoping to catch them off guard either way. Nothing curdled Barry's stomach more than the waiting game.

"Hungry?" Len asked as soon as Barry had placed his things in the bedroom. "You can't live on takeout and protein bars alone."

"Sure." Barry didn't want to argue. They'd done enough of that for one day. "But if you're making something, I can help."

"Why do you think I like having you around?" Len smirked as he opened the refrigerator. "The ease of manual labor. I'm planning on having you tackle the bathroom next and fold the laundry."

Barry chuckled, despite the last time they were in the kitchen together ending with tension and biting words. Len seemed to understand that Barry could only accept his friendship. He would gladly accept Len as a friend. The rest would be too complicated even if there wasn't mind control involved.

Len pulled out a tomato and a red pepper, ground turkey, rice, cheese…

"This seems like too much trouble—"

"One of the easiest and quickest meals I know," Len dismissed. "How often do you eat out of a box, kid? I enjoy cooking. It's no trouble." He moved about the kitchen with the same grace he maneuvered his cold gun during a heist. "You can grate the cheese," he set the block of cheddar aside with a grater from the cabinet.

Barry zipped to the task, finished in moments, and leaned back against the island with a smug grin.

Len shook his head at him in amusement.

It…warmed Barry that they could be like this. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, thinking too potently of that morning and how childish he'd acted when Len had so little control.

"You got nothing to apologize for," Len said, beginning to brown the turkey at the stovetop.

"But I do. You're being really…great, all things considered. Just promise you'll tell me if you're ever in any pain."

"You think I'm keeping that from you?"

"Are you?"

The evasive silence said enough. "I don't tell you every time I feel a twinge," he finally said.

"I know Caitlin keeps saying you check out fine, but if there's any lasting damage because I can't get a handle on living my own life—"

"I'm fine," Len insisted. "If it's bad enough to bother me, I'll tell you."

"I want to believe that," Barry said, "I just get the feeling it's way too easy for you to tell me what I want to hear."

Len paused at the stove, then gestured for Barry to cut the vegetables with a knife he handed him, which Barry completed before the man had even opened his mouth to reply. "You're impulsive. Makes you sloppy. You have moments of real skill, but that often falls away in favor of speed. Skill keeps you cleaner, since you're so hung up on not causing any permanent damage when you fight."

Barry shifted with discomfort as Len continued to move about the kitchen as he spoke, pulling a can of sauce from the pantry and setting it near the stove without losing a beat.

"You rag on me for lying but lie constantly to your friends and family when it suits you. Your priorities are shit. You don't take care of yourself, which also makes you sloppy. You have no mind for strategy. Most of your wins come from luck, stubbornness, and again—speed. Not good enough. You're setting yourself up for failure. Or, if you're not careful, that quick temper and tendency to think you've earned veto power when you're supposed to be part of a team is going to turn you into something you're not." He stirred the meat while casting Barry a sly glance. "That honest enough for you?"

"Brutally," Barry said, almost put off his dinner if he wasn't…well…him. "Thanks. Not exactly helping me not feel like crap."

"Well I could heap on just as many praises, Scarlet, but you don't believe me when I do that." Len smiled a little more sweetly. "You know what would help cheer you up?"

"What?"

"Relaxing. Not too late for one episode of MST3K."

Barry laughed again. Len was too good at drawing it out of him. "We can do that."

Their late-night dinner was ready in twenty minutes, simple, cheesy, and delicious. Home cooked meals didn't happen as often as they should when Barry was zipping from home to the precinct to the Labs and back again at all hours. Len had a single serving and Barry polished off the rest.

They sat on opposite ends of the sofa, eating from the coffee table to watch the first episode. Barry nearly made a mess a few times when he belly-laughed during a larger bite. Eventually, when the plates were empty and it was just them enjoying the rest of the episode like old friends, Barry felt the distance between them as if he was the one with proximity issues.

He knew too well what Len's eyes felt like when they cast glances at him, and it was a frequent occurrence every time he laughed and sometimes just because he thought Barry wasn't paying attention. Until Barry caught him, caught his eyes just as Len was staring.

"I told you it's okay," Barry said, debating if he should reach out but finally deciding to scoot toward Len's corner of the couch instead. "I know it makes you feel better." He moved onto the next cushion at first, but then shifted closer and leaned against Len, boxing him into the corner. Something so benign shouldn't feel so intimate. If there were other people on the couch with them, if it was Cisco in that corner instead of Len…

Barry almost expected Len to stretch his arm across the back of the couch. He didn't, but his fingers inched from his lap to rest atop Barry's hand between them. Len shuddered from that simple touch, or maybe it was Barry who shuddered.

Everything his dream had yelled at him for was true and could be added to Len's list of his faults. He was terrible, repugnant, villainous. In his mind, he saw a flash of Iris, of Sara Lance, and Bivolo's glowing eyes, but he still didn't want to move away. It was almost easy to lie to himself and say it was because Len needed this that he turned his hand upward to coil their fingers.

This strange friendship would shatter the moment Len was back to full capacity. That stung most of all, the thought of losing this when, despite the glaring issues with every part of snuggling Captain Cold on the man's own sofa, Barry liked it and felt better than he had in weeks just to have someone…

The episode went by too quickly. Suddenly, it was late and they were both tired, so Barry agreed to clean up while Len took his turn in the bathroom before bed. Rinsing the dishes and putting them in the washer at normal speed, Barry noticed Len's cell phone sitting on its charger. When it lit up out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help glancing at it.

The flashing prompt was a text from Lisa—I know you're still mad, but I did right, Lenny. You'll thank me when it's over and you and Mick are good again.

He smiled for a moment before the expression dropped. He'd forgotten to pry about Alexa. He'd already guessed there was history there, it seemed almost too obvious even before Mick's comments, but he was insanely curious to know the details about a woman who had hurt both Len and Mick so much that it had followed them for twenty years.

Barry reached to swipe at the phone habitually, not really thinking, certainly not trying to guess Len's password, but suddenly the screen brightened as he got past the display of dots for a lock pattern. All he'd done was a zagging line like…a lightning bolt.

Coincidence, he figured, had to be, but he promptly forgot all about that and Lisa's text when he saw that a Memo Pad was open with very peculiar words typed in.

Alexa needs Flash alive. Me = expendable. Distraction. Mob family

It cut off, stopping as if unfinished. Mob family what? Which mob family? Why did Alexa need Barry alive?

Len came out of the bathroom and Barry left the last plate in the sink.

"Len," he snatched up the phone to intercept him and turned the screen to face him, "when did you write this?"

"Write what?" Len frowned, prepared to demand what Barry thought he was doing going through his phone when his eyes fell on the words. "I don't…I don't remember writing that."

"Well, what did you mean?" Barry pulled the phone toward him again. "Mob family what? A specific family?"

"I don't know," Len snapped, though more at himself than at Barry. "But I know she wants you alive." His eyes brightened and Barry could almost see the light bulb spring to life. "Wants me alive too, but that's less crucial as long as you're distracted but still…still able to…something." He clenched his teeth. "I can't remember any more."

"It's okay," Barry smiled in support, handing Len his phone. "This is great."

"It is?"

"Don't you get it? Some of the details are clearer to you now, right? If you write something down and then learn about it separately, like reading these notes, it sticks with you. It breaks the control keeping you from telling us things. Once we figure out Alexa's plan, the rest of the control should fade away too. Maybe not the proximity or…how you feel about me, but…" Barry didn't want to think about that part. They had a win—finally. "What triggered you to write this? Something you saw…? Something we did…?"

Len frowned staring at his phone again, unable to recall anything else.

"We'll figure it out," Barry assured him. "Besides, tomorrow, if we get any leads, you should remember more."

Finally, Barry's optimism, that spark of hope, seemed to sink in for Len. "I think you're on to something, Scarlet." He bumped Barry's chest with the back of his hand still holding the phone. "Not too bad a detective for a science nerd."

"Says the sci-fi nerd."

"And proud. Do I come across as bashful to you?"

"Definitely not," Barry laughed.

They stood close to one another after looking over the phone, the lights in the apartment mostly off from watching the episode, and a lightness filling Barry's chest that had been missing all day. He rocked forward before he realized what he was doing, drawn by the magnetic pull in Len's eyes, in his face, his body…

Snapping back with a jolt, Barry chastised himself for almost—shit.

"W-We should…get to bed," he choked out, face on fire for his weakness and for how Len, once again, looked so dissatisfied.

"Yes. We should."

It was only because Len kept looking at Barry like he was the center of the universe that he forgot himself and gave in to the urge to connect more than just the platonic touches he'd asked for. Len's heart-eyes weren't going away any time soon; Barry had to be the strong one.

They parted for Barry to take his turn in the bathroom, climbing into bed minutes later without Len asking to be held this time. Barry wasn't disappointed. He wasn't. It was better if they resisted.

Because eventually, all of this would be over.

"Do you need help with that, Ma'am?" Barry asked Len's neighbor—Mrs. Kittelsby, Evelyn—as the woman came hobbling down the hallway with several overflowing bags of…something.

Len was in the shower, but Barry had heard an oomph through the door while attempting to make those pancakes for breakfast he hadn't managed the morning Lisa ambushed him. He had to say 'attempting' though because he'd gotten the ratio of something wrong and they were more like flat, rubbery tortillas.

With Len's door still open while Barry rushed halfway down the hall to intercept the woman, he accepted the bulbous bag she shoved at him. "Larry, was it?"

"Barry."

"Not Sam then?" she smirked.

"No," Barry gave a shaky chuckle. "That's a…long story."

"I'll bet it is." She gestured for Barry to follow her to her apartment and he did so dutifully, peeking back into Len's apartment along the way to be sure Len wasn't looking for him. He hated to leave the door open, but too much space, too many walls between them always felt like a risk after the Galleria. The two apartments were at the end of the hallway anyway, and Barry had yet to see anyone else on this floor.

Evelyn left her door open as well, which comforted Barry as he set the bag down where she indicated. While the layout of the apartment was the same as Len's, the feel of it and style of decorating was entirely different. Altogether more pinks and purples and antique furniture. Though she had a pretty impressive entertainment system.

Barry peered out the door once more before turning back to the woman who was suddenly handing him a mug of coffee as if in payment. "Oh. Thanks." Her head was wrapped in a scarf again, a jacket with fur on the collar having been discarded as soon as they entered. "Can I ask—"

"How I know Lenny and his crew so well?" She grinned with mischief over her own mug that she'd apparently had ready and waiting for when she returned home. "Professional acquaintances."

Barry choked on his first sip. She was a thief? Still a thief? He eyed the bags he'd helped carry in with a whole new perspective. She was barely five feet tall and 80.

"Relax, darling," she said. "After all, you're Lenny's new boy, aren't you? Hardly a stranger to his line of work."

"We're not…it's complicated," Barry said and took another sip of coffee. It was actually pretty good with a kick of…cayenne? "And I prefer plausible deniability when I can get it."

Evelyn chuckled which, with her gruff voice, came out more like a rumble. "Seems Lenny is on an interesting path with that scarlet friend of his," she eyed Barry with that same look of being able to see right through him. But Len said he hadn't told her his secret.

"Yeah?"

"The news and all certainly seem to think so. He does so enjoy his romps with that young man. Perhaps it's become something more. You aren't jealous, I hope."

"N-No," Barry sputtered. "Definitely not jealous of The Flash. Can I ask just…one other thing?" He eyed her smile like it was a trap with teeth.

"Yes, dear?" she purred.

"The other day, when Len whispered to you…" Barry was probably entering dangerous territory, but then he was in an apartment building apparently filled with criminals.

"Oh, Lenny and I are quite close. He knows my deepest secret. My greatest regret." She set her mug down on the kitchen island. "I had a way out of the life many years ago, you see, that I chose not to take. Couldn't give up the rush," she emphasized the shhhh like a true dramatic villain. "So you see, dear boy, when he whispered to me, what he said was…" She coiled her finger to beckon Barry closer, and when he leaned in, she whispered to mimic Len, "'he's my way out'."

Barry flushed, wishing he could blame the heat and the tumble of his stomach on that kick of cayenne. "I should, uhh…"

"Evelyn…" Len's voice called across the hallway.

Barry spun to find the man poised in his doorway with a smirk and crossed arms.

"Are you charming the kid?"

"Nonsense, dear," Evelyn said. "The boy merely helped me with some heavy lifting."

The way Len flicked his eyes down and up again in mischief answered Barry's question about the nature of those bags.

"Thanks for the coffee," he said and quickly passed the mug back to her to make his escape.

"Any time, dear!" she said.

Once Barry was back inside Len's apartment and the door closed behind them, he turned to face that lingering smirk. "Was I just an accessory to robbery?"

Len snorted. "Do you really want to know?"

He really didn't.

"Focus, Scarlet. We got time before meeting Mick, but I don't like to sit on my laurels when we got leads burning in our pockets."

"Right. You're right." Barry tried to shake the remaining flush from his cheeks by reminding himself of all the work they had to do. "I was thinking about hitting the precinct. It would make a lot of our follow-up easier. But then…" He looked at Len from head to toe. "Easy isn't the word given our situation."

"We can go to the precinct," Len said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You think the only times I've been inside that building are in cuffs? I have my ways."

"Like…an inside man?"

"You're the inside man, Scarlet," Len practically rolled his eyes. "I mean glasses and a ballcap isn't the only disguise I use. Give me a moment and we can head out. Also," he turned back with a raised finger just as he'd been about to head off and pointed at the floppy failure of Barry's pancakes, "we can grab breakfast along the way."

"Sorry," Barry called to Len's quickly retreating back. "I'm usually better at pancakes!"

He sat on the arm of the couch while waiting for Len to change, anxious to be active and get an early start. Not that Len was slow, Barry was just the wrong figure to measure by. His thoughts drifted until a blur of blue caught his attention and Len cleared his throat to draw Barry's eyes to...

Wow.

"Ready?"

A police officer stood before Barry, as believable as the ones he worked with every day, hat and all. Len looked really good in uniform.

"Let's hit the road, Allen," Len said with a sharper bark to his voice rather than the usual drawl.

Barry scrambled from the couch when Len came closer and tried not to shiver from how thoroughly the man continued to impress him. "Yes, sir, Officer," he said.

This was going to be interesting.

TBC...