The encounter, the harsh words, the flare of Speed Force around him as he felt his emotions boil, had rattled Barry down to his very core. He aimlessly sped all over town, jittery, restless, unable to catch a clear thought.
He was drawn to Leonard Snart. To Len. It wasn't just some surge of lust or want; he knew what that felt like. His teenage years had taught him a lesson or two about hormones and infatuation. This wasn't anything like that.
Barry couldn't put into words what he needed or felt. It wasn't because of his hyper-senses. He had never needed anyone for that and no one had ever pinged him as a Sentinel either. He didn't exist because he was in the loop, with no external way into that endless circle, and no way to accidentally or not so accidentally break it.
Barry wished he could talk to someone. Someone who might have an idea what was going on. He couldn't really go to Caitlin or Cisco. Their experiences with the Rogues had left them with a very straight-forward opinion on the trustworthiness of Leonard Snart or anyone associated with him. He also couldn't ask Joe, for obvious reasons. Iris and Eddie were out, too, even if both knew about his alter ego.
Oliver came to mind. The man was a Sentinel and maybe revealing a few things about himself might not really shock Queen. He might be able to shed some light on what was going on. But Oliver also had a very vigilante way of thinking. Barry could just imagine the expression in those cold, hard eyes if he told The Arrow that there was connection between him and Leonard Snart, master criminal, so-called super villain, and someone he had clashed several times in the past. Someone who had worked with the Legends, who had done a lot of good, who might just be called a hero for saving timelines and realities.
But Barry also didn't want to give up his Sentinel status and reveal the meta side on top of it, even to an ally like The Arrow, and he really didn't want a lot of people to know how important Len had become. He protected those he cared about; fiercely. It was the Sentinel side times ten. Len fell into that category and had been there for a long time before his stint with the Legends.
Because he was important.
Barry exhaled sharply. He had to deal with this on his own.
And he couldn't let it go.
He came back. Len had to give it to one Barry Allen: he was persistent. Like a dog with a bone. Cute as a puppy, with quite a bite, and a whole lot of powers he hadn't even grown into yet. There was a lot potential there; a lot. Especially if he started using the Speed Force and his senses, not switch off the latter for some probably insanely stupid reasoning or other.
"These visits are getting old," Len drawled wryly when Barry walked into his current hide-out as he tinkered with his gun.
It got him a half-grin. Allen was in his civvies, not the Flash outfit, and he looked like he should be in school, not hanging around mastermind criminals. Especially with the button-down underneath a sweater that screamed college nerd.
"Well, third time's… hopefully better than the first two times," Barry quipped, leaning a hip against the table, eyes flitting over the assorted tools and gadgets, looking a little unsure about his welcome after last time's outbreak.
He picked up a small welding tool, looking at the spread of parts everywhere.
"You break it, you buy it," Len drawled.
He hadn't thought he would see the speedster again so soon after the little emotional overload, but here he was. Yes, the kid was persistent. He also forgave a lot, though he probably hadn't forgotten.
"What's your poison this time?" he asked, swiveling the chair, the cold gun still in his hands. It wasn't pointed at the other man, was secured, and Barry showed no alarm.
He simply shrugged. "Nothing. Quiet evening. I was bored."
"You feel bored and come to me."
Barry shot him a small smile. "Yeah?"
"I feel appreciated."
"Well, I do."
He gave him a neutral look.
"Appreciate you," Barry explained. "Uhm, your help. Not just the occasional team-up. That's actually not so bad either. Really. But I also very much appreciate the company."
Snart froze, eyes hardening, his whole body tensing up. He took in the nervous energy flitting around the younger man, met the wide eyes that reflected way more than Barry was probably comfortable with.
"Don't go there, Scarlet!" he snapped, refusing to be baited.
"No. No, it's not like that. I just..." Barry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen…"
Snart dared him to say it out loud, a steep line between his eyes, face radiating the warning.
"I told you that this is quietness for me. You… you take the edge off. You ground me," he finally said.
There he went saying it! Len knew he shouldn't have expected the kid to just follow a warning. He never did anyway.
"I don't know why," Barry continued. "I don't know how, but… it helps. You help."
"I'm not empathically inclined, Scarlet," he told him tonelessly. "I never was. There is nothing between us."
"There's this." Barry nodded at the take-out with what might be an attempt at lightness.
It was a peace offering.
"This," Len echoed flatly. "Food. You're… bribing me with food?"
"I'm not going to pay you money," Barry snorted.
"Ah, but a diamond or two per week might help."
Barry's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, you're easy."
Len's lips curled into a predatory smile. "I can be."
Barry scrubbed a hand over his neck again. "Listen, I don't know what this is. I don't know how it works, but… You make me slow down. Everything is… calmer. Well, not really calm." He fidgeted a little. His hands clasped briefly behind his neck, a gesture Len had seen often before. Barry dropped his hands, looking like he needed to work off nervous energy and couldn't. "Just… smoother. The Speed Force isn't pressing down on me anymore. I find a measure of… peace?"
Snart leaned back, arms crossed in front of his chest. Huh. He filed it away. "That sounds like the worst joke ever, Scarlet, don't you think?"
"Huh?"
"Because of you and me?" he gestured between them, a shrewd look in his eyes. "The hero of Central City and the master thief, the super villain."
"That's… just names. I'm not just The Flash. You're not just Cold."
"But The Flash is the meta the Speed Force is connected to."
"The Flash is a name. I'm still Barry Allen."
Len tilted his head, thoughtful. "Yes, that you are."
"And you're not just Cold. You're Leonard Snart."
"I suppose I am." He smirked. "Still a bad boy. Well, you did erase my history, so according to any kind of file I've got a sparkling white vest."
"I don't know why it's you," Barry sighed. "Caitlin once said my cells are in a constant flux. Chronic cellular regeneration. Everything about me is the speed. But not here. It's quieter. More under control."
"Never looked like you actually needed help with that," Len remarked casually, still adding to the pile of information on one Barry Allen.
It got him a rueful smile. "Yeah, just looks like it."
And he was confessing to it just like that. Innocent and unjaded. He shouldn't be giving a criminal like Cold so much intel. Like his hypoglycemic condition after expending too much energy. Or how much power the man could wield over the speedster.
Len studied him thoughtfully. "Pro tip, Scarlet: never show your hand to the likes of me."
The other man looked relaxed, like he wasn't in a supervillain's den, facing a known criminal with a cold gun that could seriously hurt The Flash. He smiled, that open, warm smile. Untainted and yet someone who had seen so much, who had lost people, had experienced more pain than anyone Leonard Snart had ever known.
"I think we established that you're not out to hurt me. Or worse."
"Have we," he echoed sardonically.
Barry smiled more. "Yes. You follow a code of honor, Len. Your own code of honor, but one I can live with."
"I could still blast your identity all over town."
"But you won't."
No, he wouldn't. Because something had changed in their dynamic. Slowly. Over time. He liked his speedster.
And yes, he was quite aware of the possessive pronoun.
"I won't," he agreed and turned back to the worktable. "As long as you remember that this," he gestured between them, "is just a business arrangement. That's our deal."
No strings, no conditions, no payback.
"Whatever this is, for whatever reason," Snart went on. "We established that I'm no Guide. You're a meta Sentinel who's self-contained, in a loop, and you don't need a Guide. Neutral ground."
"Neutral ground." Barry's smile was real and warm.
And Barry had more or less confided in him that Leonard Snart was someone who helped him decompress, opening himself up to all kinds of danger, and he was smiling.
"Deal."
He would never understand this man. Never.
Barry stayed.
He was a lanky, quiet presence that explored the work space, quietly studied the collection of books shoved into a small shelf, and who drank a whole bottle of caffeinated soda while eating a box of cookies.
"I need a bigger cupboard," Snart griped under his breath.
The bright smile had him stare for a whole five seconds, blindsided by how much it touched him.
"You have very unhealthy eating habits, Barry."
"Fills a need."
"You owe me dinner. Several times over," he stated, refusing to think about the words and what they might mean. What they might really mean.
Barry shrugged carelessly. "Sure." He crumbled up the empty packet. "See you."
And then he was gone again, in a flash.
Snart closed his eyes with a soft groan.
No one controlled him. No one had any kind of power over him. He had destroyed that last shackle when he had ended his father's miserable life. He had no one to look out for but himself. He was connected to no one but business partners and the occasional alliance, reluctant or not. His life belonged to no one and no one was important to him.
Lies, his mind jeered. So many, many lies.
Barry was getting to him, though not in a bad way. It was something so very private and also so dangerous. Affection was dangerous. Could be fatal. Could be turned against him.
He was so screwed.
Five weeks into their 'business arrangement', Barry couldn't ignore how he knew where to find Len whenever he went looking for the man. It was like a sixth sense, an instinct. He didn't need to see him on a regular basis. He didn't check in on him all the time. He wasn't dependent.
Just sometimes… things got too much. Fighting metas or just crazy criminals who had gotten their hands on experimental tech. He was hurt, he healed, and he went back to his day job the next day as if he hadn't broken every bone in his body, bled all over the place, existed on a few hours of sleep.
Then there were the memories of Harrison Wells. The man who hadn't been Wells, the murderer, impostor, the cold-blooded killer who had come across as caring and so empathic. The man he had trusted, who had helped him develop his powers, only to try and steal them from him. Like an animal raised and trained to be a tool, to be exploited and then discarded.
Barry had never felt so betrayed, so alone, to hurt. It had taken a long time for him to be able to think of that last fight against Eobard Thawne and not want to throw up. He had beaten the man, had erased him from the timeline with the help of his friends, all of his friends, and many of them had suffered in turn.
His dad was a free man now, but Henry Allen hadn't stayed. He had left to explore the world, to be truly free, to find himself again after fifteen years of wrongful incarceration. Barry couldn't fault him for it, but he felt even more unmoored because of it.
His father was gone. Not dead, not in prison, but very much unreachable for him except by phone.
The Flash never showed it, but Barry Allen sometimes reached a point where one more step would push him into the abyss that was always so close. He felt the Speed Force more acutely, felt it pushing at his every cell, tearing into him. It was this eternal power that ran through him every second of the day, a power his body could easily handle, but his mind was another matter.
It hurt. The pain brought the nightmares. The nightmares had him try even harder to keep Central City safe. It was a vicious circle. He took brief moments of happiness from saving people, ordinary people, who would have been either seriously injured or even died if not for The Flash. He smiled when they held each other, happy to be alive. He accepted their thanks and it filled him with pride and purpose.
Neither Cisco nor Caitlin, nor the alternate reality Harrison Wells had an idea about his problems. Physically he was in peak condition. Neurologically there were no spike. They couldn't measure the Speed Force and Barry had no idea what to tell them, how to tell them. Caitlin had once told him that they couldn't keep secrets from each other, that Barry had to tell them if something changed, but what could he say?
He couldn't unwind at S.T.A.R. Labs or at home. He could distract himself visiting Iris and Eddie, but the moment he was on his own, the inner turmoil rose again, taking over, pushing him into looking for the one human being who bled it all off.
Snart grounded him. Len. Len did. He was Len, not Snart or Cold. Len wasn't a Guide and it wasn't the Sentinel who needed him. It was the meta Sentinel, his connection to the Speed Force. That was what reacted to him, felt safe enough to quiet down and relax, and it was his meta that also enjoyed their encounters so very much.
Even before their current truce, whenever he had come out a fight with Cold his senses had realigned themselves with practiced ease, smooth and very much in tune with everything, including the Speed Force.
He needed the little kicks and thrills of their encounters and he wanted it. He wanted to be around the other man. It had been an instinct that couldn't be rationalized. Leonard Snart was his opposite in so many ways, in almost every way, and because of that… he was perfect.
And on the few occasions they had fought side by side against a common threat, they worked like a seasoned team. Perfectly in tune. In synch. As if they had always known each other. It just felt like that. So familiar. So normal. Absolutely normal.
So what if he dropped by Len's place a few more times? What if he just flashed in to check on the guy because a meta had soundblasted him into a shop window? What if he felt calmer, more at ease later on?
It was the moment Barry realized he was in trouble. A big mess, lots of trouble.