Len should have been used to Freya's nightmares by now. He knew her time in the military had really messed with her, but Freya never wanted to talk about it and Len never pushed. But he never got used to waking up to the sound of the woman whimpering as she slept at his side.

This night was no different. Len was sleeping deeply until he heard those painfully familiar whimpers on his right. Sitting up, the man looked over. Freya was drenched in sweat and curled up in a ball. Her face was screwed up like she was in pain. Touching her bare shoulder, Len winced at the clammy feeling.

"Freya? Baby? Wake up, it's just a nightmare." Freya winced at the sound of Len's voice, but didn't come out of the state of terror she was in. Grasping her shoulder more firmly, the criminal shook the woman`s shoulder harder.

Not realizing his mistake until it was too late, Len wasn't expecting the quick hand that came around his throat and the other that grabbed his wrist and pressed him down into the mattress. Len gasped and looked into Freya's eyes that were looking right through him. "F- Freya." he gasped as the hand grew tighter around his windpipe. He scrambled at the woman's fingers trying to get them looser.

Len knew Freya wasn't seeing him. She was seeing whatever enemy was trying to kill him. "Freya, baby, please… you're hurting me." Len tried to speak as calmly as he could.

Len winced as he felt Freya`s grip get tighter and tighter on his wrist. So tight that Len suddenly felt a snap as a bone broke. A pained scream tore past his lips. That was enough to snap Freya out of hallucination. As everything caught up to him, the woman's face turned as white as a sheet.

"Oh god… Len.." Freya gasped as she scrambled off her boyfriend and into a corner across the room, as far from Len as she could get.

The criminal lay on his side, curled up in a ball and clutching his wrist to his chest. "Fuck.." he gritted his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain. Sitting up slowly, Len took in the curled up figure of her sitting in the corner. Slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal, he came to kneel in front of the woman. "Freya.?"

Freya flinched, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Len ," she choked out. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't, Freya. I don't blame you." Len reached out his uninjured hand and placed it on Freya`s bare arm, trying to ignore the way he flinched back. "Hey, hey.." Len put his hand on the side of Freya's face and wiped a stray tear away. "You and me, right? I don't blame you, Freya. Never."

Freya took a shaky breath and nodded, but her eyes were glued to the red marks wrapping around Len's neck. Freya stared at him, looking slightly more alert, her head cocked to one side. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers across a large, jagged knife scar across his stomach. Len looked down and realized that his undershirt was practically see through wet and Freya could see his scars. Len took a step back and wrapped a towel around his chest. "No, please don't," Freya said, "I shouldn't have touched you, I wasn't thinking."

"Obviously," Len said.

"It's just that your scars are beautiful."

What the fuck did she just say? Len was torn between panic and rage, how dare Freya who has a tight body with beautiful, markless skin say that to him. Freya must have seen something in Len's eyes because she quickly added, "I cannot even imagine what you went through, I don't want to, because your father was an evil man. He never deserved such wonderful kids like you and Lisa. Your scars as a testament to your survival, your strength and the journey to become the amazing, sexy brilliant man that you are today. You don't have to hide them from me, Len."

Freya carefully pulled at the towel and Len let it drop to the floor, stunned by Freya's sentiment. She had been looking him in the eye and knew, even in the space between pain and fear, she meant every word she said. Freya slowly lifted Len's shirt and placed a soft kiss on the scar she previously touched. Len shuttered and took a step back. "Don't," Len looked down at his feet. The swirl of so many emotions in his gut made him feel nauseous now, the throbbing of his head starting to return, he just wanted to get Freya to bed and then to leave and pretend none of this ever happened.

"I am sorry," Freya whispered, hanging her head, "I just wanted you to know."

"Let's get you to bed."

They sat together on the bed for what seemed like hours, Len stroking Freya's arm with just his fingertips and Freya with her head resting on her boyfriend's chest.

She was hovering over Len, looking into his cold eyes. She planted a firm kiss on the man's lips. "From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story. A Story that says "I have survived"She whispered, before settling back on Len's chest, arm wrapped securely around her waist. It wasn't long before she was snoring.

Len eyes went wide.

The thing about Leonard Snart is that he never lets people in.

As in, never in a lifetime.

He built these walls so high and so tight around him, that he always thought it would be impossible to even crack them, just a little bit. Not even mentioning completely crumbling them.

For years and years and years he didn't let himself feel anything.

He was a monster. He didn't deserve to feel anything.

He didn't really have friends, or at least not anyone he would try to trust even a little. Just allies, in thief context. He also had enemies, but that's the whole other story.

He learned not to care, about what happens to other people - lovers come and go, they all are going to die anyway. Not to care, because it makes you weak.

And, most of all, he didn't love. He shut himself off from feeling anything towards anyone for years, decades, and he avoided the subject anytime someone would mention it.

He was okay with it. With being alone, with feeling the emptiness in the place his heart used to be in, with feeling nothing.

Until it stopped being fine anymore.

Until Freya came and shattered these walls he built around himself, not even meaning to do so.

Suddenly - in a simple momentum - something changed, he felt something, something he was not even able to explain. Suddenly he started to care, which was exactly what he avoided so carefully since almost forever.

And Freya didn't seem to care as much as he did.

But he couldn't help it, and every day he would find himself looking at Simon longer than it was necessary, searching for an excuse to talk to him, to be near him.

He felt helpless.

It took him some time, but finally he realized it, and the thought terrified him completely.

He was falling in love.

Malcolm had never made a big fuss about his birthday, and especially in the last few years, his birthday had become a really quiet affair. He didn't have many friends left; his job was destroying many friendships, and the few that were still intact weren't so close, or they lived on the other side of the country. Not many people at the company knew when his birthday was – and he wouldn't tell them – and so his birthday only consisted of working, leaving the office early and having dinner with his son.

Malcolm always tried to tell himself that he didn't feel lonely, that it was just a day like all the others... but as he woke up for his 47th birthday, he couldn't help but sigh as he thought about how nothing but the usual would await him today.

And maybe... maybe his mood was really bad as he made his way to One Hogan Place, trying not to think about how much of the scotch he had at home he would drink tonight. Not even his beloved coffee could lighten his mood, and his secretery seemed to sense this before he even exited the elevator – she only nodded at him, letting him walk past into his office without bothering him.

He was glad that he didn't have to be in a meeting today – nobody could see him bathing in his loneliness in his office. A text message from his son telling him that he'd come down with the flu and that they would have to postpone his birthday dinner was pulling his mood into lows that he hadn't thought to be possible, and he actually considered starting to drink in the office as the afternoon trickled by.

After sending his secretary home, he was already on his way to grab the scotch bottle he kept in his office when he suddenly heard a gentle knock on the door. Trying not to sound too annoyed or even miserable, he grunted a short: "Come in."

"Hey Mal."

He turned around, and for a short moment, he felt like someone had lit a candle in the darkness that seemed to have settled inside of him. Freya was standing in his office, a soft smile playing around her lips as she looked at him, her jeans and the leather jacket indicating that she must have gotten out of the office a while ago. Still she looked a little bit dressed up, as if she wanted to go to a party with friends.

"I'm really surprised to find you here at this time of day," she said, closing the door behind her, hiding her other arm behind her back.

"Really? Why?" Malcolm asked with a sigh, not bothering to mask that he was mentally tired as he sat down on the couch.

"Well, considering that it is your birthday..."

She moved over to the couch and sat down next to him, now moving her arm from behind her back, revealing a little paper box, and as he continued to stare at her, she opened the lid and revealed a mini cake. A little candle stuck in the chocolate frosting, surrounded by coffee beans, and before he knew it, Freya had lit it.

Her eyes were gleaming as she looked at him and whispered: "Happy Birthday, Mal."

Malcolm actually bit his lip as he sensed how his emotions started to boil up inside of him, getting out of control, and it made him uncomfortable, as it very rarely happened to him. Knowing exactly that she'd seen the tears gleam in his eyes, he looked down at his hands and took a deep breath before meeting her gaze again, mumbling: "Thank you."

They looked at each other for a very long moment, and he felt like she understood what was going on inside of him. It sometimes scared him how well she knew him, even without words, and that she seemed to know what he was thinking... but it also was something special he didn't want to miss. He'd never had something like that before with someone, and it made her that tiny bit more special to him.

"Come on, blow out the candle and make a wish," Freya told him, her warm brown eyes making his heart skip a beat, and he obeyed, extinguishing the flame with a short exhale and watching how the bluish smoke floated into the air. He had no idea what to wish for, because he felt like the only thing he could have wished for was already sitting next to him, carefully pulling the candle out of the cake.

"Freya... thank you," he said, and beneath her smile, there was a flicker of confusion as she gazed at him.

"You already said that," she pointed out, taking two plastic forks out of her bag and handing one to him.

"I guess one time wasn't enough. This... you don't know how much this means to me."

Their gazes locked, and he felt like he was sinking into her eyes, drowning in them; it didn't feel odd for him to openly show how moved he was by this, even though he normally guarded his reactions so carefully. She reached out and gently squeezed his hand, his skin tingling where she touched him, and a little bit of sadness crossed her beautiful features, showing him that she knew what he meant.

"Now be a good birthday boy and eat your cake. We got plans tonight," she said, clearing her throat and pulling her hand back the very moment he wanted to lace his fingers through hers and tell her what he felt because it just seemed the right thing to do.

"Plans?"

"Yeah," she confirmed while Malcolm forked a piece of cake into his mouth. It was simply delicious, a mixture of mocha, chocolate and raspberries, and he decided that it was the best birthday cake he'd had in his life. "You and I, we're going to go out tonight."

He had a strong desire to kiss her for ripping him out of his hole and giving him exactly what he needed, but he felt like he had to tell her that he'd loved her for years when he was less close to starting to cry out. happiness. She was driving him crazy once again, making him feel like he couldn't handle the sudden joy, and it made him feel like a wreck.

"Wh … what?" It came out almost as a whisper – he hadn't meant to, but she was so close, taking up all his field of vision, and anything else felt like shouting.

"Your pulse is racing again."

God damn it, he chided himself. If only you weren't such a –

Hang on.

Hang the fuck on.

Looking back, he would never figure out where he got the courage to say what he did next, in an even voice out of step with his thudding heart.

"So is yours."

He watched her expression flicker, and slowly she raised her head to look up at their hands, where the pad of his thumb was resting against her pulse point. She swallowed, and lowered her head to look at him once more. He searched her eyes, burning with the need for clarity. Her expressions had always been so easy to read, and sometimes he had felt them exchanging whole conversations just in looks. But this … he wanted to be sure about this.

Holy fuck, he thought, his mouth going dry. I'm right, aren't I?

She opened and closed her mouth, but, slowly, he saw in her expression a note of admission. He stared at her for an endless moment.

He wondered if she could still feel his pulse.

Malcolm opens his eyes, forces a smile on his face, and turns to Freya. She looks elated, something Malcolm isn't quite expecting, but it's a good look, a beautiful look on him.

And just for a moment, just a moment, Malcolm looks at her, looks at the smile on her face and the twinkle in her eye and the sun is just right, casting an orange glow over Freya's face and Malcolm watches the way she just slightly turns her face up to meet it and it takes Malcolm's breath from him in one fell swoop. She's stunning, perfect, all that Malcolm wants.

He blames his sleep-addled brain and the picturesque moment for him taking two steps forward, cupping Freya's cheeks, and dragging her down into a chaste kiss.

It's not explosive. It's calming and soft and sweet as Malcolm pushes their lips together. His thumbs slide over Freya's cheekbones gently, tracing the beautiful woman beneath them, and just when Malcolm thinks he could stay like this forever, he pulls away with a small sound.

There's silence, and Malcolm doesn't want to open eyes just yet. He wants to stay in this moment, stay in this world where Freya is his for as long as she can, but then he feels Freya's hands sliding onto his wrists and he's wrenched back to reality with a sickening feeling.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm quickly says, yanking his wrists from Freya's grip and stepping back to put space between them. He can't look at Freya, can't see the betrayal there. He just stares at the mud around their feet and wishes for the ground to swallow him up.

But Freya doesn't say a word, not a damn word, and Malcolm feels like he's suffocating all of a sudden as he backs away further and further. The silence is stretched too long, the only sound the quacking of the ducks, and Malcolm can't bear it.

Without a word, she runs.

Freya spends nearly thirty seconds trying to turn her key in the lock before he admits to herself that her front door is already open. Yeah, well, things have been stressful lately; these sorts of things can slip through the cracks. It's not as though the building doesn't have great security.

"Hey."

Halfway through dropping her bag in the closet, Freya looks up toward the living room.

"Len?"

Leonard Snart stands up from the sofa and takes a hesitant step forward. "Are you okay?" he asks cautiously. "Should I— Do you want me to leave, did you want to be alone?"

"No," Freya assures him, dropping her bag and shedding her jacket. "No, I'm glad you're here. I just wasn't expecting it."

Everything is fine.

"Okay, well, even if that's true," Len presses, "you look like you could use a drink."

"Yeah," Freya agrees, "I was thinking the same thing."

Len dallies at the liquor cabinet for a second before he picks out whiskey.

"Len, I have to tell you something."

" Malcolm kissed me."

" He what?"

Yeah, safe to say that he was pissed. His drawl was more pronounced than ever, and even across the room, Freya could see the way his jaw was working. At least he didn't seem to be pissed at Freya.

Len pulled Freya nto his arms and covered her mouth in a soft but deep kiss. Freya melted against him, enjoying the rough feeling of his uniform fabric against her bare skin.

"Mine," he growled possessively in her ear, holding her tightly.

Freya laughed, even as his hands on her body were having an undeniably arousing effect. "You're sexy when you're jealous."

Snart said nothing. He kissed his way down the side of her neck, scraping his teeth along her skin, though not hard enough to leave any visible marks. Freya moaned and pressed into him, her hands seeking the button on his pants. Finding it, she flicked it open and reached inside, running her hand along his hardness. Snart growled and let her pump him a few times before pulling away.

Impatiently, Len unclasped her bra and pulled it off her shoulders, then tugged her panties down her legs, pulling them down to the floor so Freya could step out of them. She moved to kick her shoes off, as well, but Len stilled her with a hand on her ankle. "Wait," was all he said. Len ran his hands up her legs and hips as he stood, grazing them over her pouting nipples and pulling Freya into him for another deep kiss.

"Get the parka," he rasped into her ear, and Freya's mind scrambled to understand.

"The… parka?" Freya repeated breathlessly and glanced over her shoulder where the mink was draped over an armchair. Len nodded. Freya walked over to it in her high heels and picked it up uncertainly.

While she was doing that, Len quickly pulled off his uniform shirt and undershirt, leaving him bare-chested. He sat on the edge of the bed and palmed his cock through his pants and commanded, "Put it on." Freya looked at him skeptically, and he added, "Please. Been thinking about you naked wearing that thing all day."

Freya pulled the parka on around her and immediately appreciated what Len had in mind. The rub of the satin lining against her hot skin, her bare nipples, was incredibly sensual. Freya wrapped herself in the luxe fur, burying her chin in the collar. She looked up at Len through her lashes and saw that he was staring at her intently, his mouth slightly agape with lust.

"Turn around," he said, and Freya complied, slowly stepping in a circle. As she did, she heard Len let out a low wolf whistle behind her. Freya turned back to face him with a sly grin, feeling heady with the power she apparently had over him. She stepped toward him until she was standing between his legs, his powerful cock jutting out at her underneath his pants.

Freya ran her hands over Len's bare shoulders, enjoying the feel of taut muscle and smooth skin that had haunted her fantasies ever since she pulled a knife to him. For his part, Len pushed his hands inside the front of her coat, feeling her bare breasts, which were still concealed from his view. Freya felt herself growing wet at his touch, knew she wanted him inside her.

"Len" she breathed, and threw her head back. One of his hands reached down to stroke between her legs, and she spread her thighs in invitation. Len's fingers parted her wet folds, finding her heated center, stimulating her but not filling her. Freya gasped and opened herself to him further, and he finally plunged into her with two fingers, causing her to let out a loud cry of pleasure.

Len took his hands off of Freya and undid his pants, pulling his cock out and stroking it in front of her. He scooted back on the bed, and Freya followed him, straddling his hips, kicking her high heels off as she moved. There was no need to say anything; they both knew what they wanted. Their heavy breaths were the only sounds in the otherwise-quiet room. Freya reached down and grasped Len's heavy, hard cock, positioning herself over him. She slid down onto him slowly, both to savor the moment and to give herself time to accommodate his considerable size. When she was fully seated on his cock, she rolled her hips and gasped at the sensation.

Freya began riding Len at a steady pace, feeling his hands grasping her thighs. The mink parka slipped off her shoulders and off the end of the bed as she moved, leaving her completely naked on top of Len. He reached up to palm her breasts, and she leaned down into him. The stimulation on her nipples and the sensation of Len inside her felt so incredible, Freya felt her orgasm building quickly. She came quietly, shuddering in ecstasy, feeling her climax more deeply than she could ever recall before.

As she stilled on top of Len, he picked her up and flipped her over easily, driving his cock into her from above. She met Len eyes as he looked down on her and saw not only lust there but love, devotion, adoration. Freya zsmiled slightly and licked her lips. In response, Len kissed her hard, moaning into her mouth as he thrust into her. Finally, Freya felt him push into her one last time, and then he pulled out abruptly and spurted hot and thick onto her mound and stomach.

Still panting slightly, Len rolled over to the side and grabbed a towel off the washbasin by the bedside for her. Freya cleaned herself off and commented, " That was hot"

Len couldn't bring himself to care though, not at that moment, not when he was leaving open-mouthed kisses over Freya s bare neck and chest.

Freya gasped when Len bit down on her throat possessively, it was just a little nip, but it was still a surprise. "Mine," the criminal growled.

Freya nodded, whimpering when the man started sucking marks into her skin. "Yours," she agreed.

A few hour later ,her phone buzzed and she received a message from him, saying "I don't regret that."