This Delicate Thing We've Made

by spacemonkey766

Barry never expected to find love again, certainly not with Leonard Snart. But falling for each other turned out to be the easy part. But was it sustainable, was it destined to burn out as quickly as it began, or were they in for something that would end up being the thing in this world that made each man both feel more at home than they'd ever been in their lives? [ColdFlash]

12. Feel

This Delicate Thing We've Made

genre: Romance

rated: M

authors note: lovemaking in this chapter

---

Chapter 12: Feel

"You teach me how to feel, I feels all right
There's nothing left to fear
Finding myself the further I go
Towards you
You teach me how to love parts of myself
I hated for so long
Loving myself
Through loving you
I know longer live like a man in the dark
Hiding all the pieces of my broken heart
Way up high, I'm holding on to you"

---

Len carefully balanced the four pizza boxes in one hand, a large brown paper wrapped rectangular package awkwardly tucked under one armpit, as he made his way towards the front door of the apartment. He fumbled with the keys for a moment, wishing he could just phase through objects like his partner. As he managed to let himself in he threw the keys one-handed onto the nearby entrance table and kicked the door shut with his foot.

"Hey, Len," Barry greeted from were he sat on one of the stools at the island between the kitchen and living room. "Need help?"

"Nah, I got it," Len slid the pizza boxes on top of the island counter and removed the large package from underneath his arm.

"What's that?" Barry asked, sparing him a glance before returning to whatever he was looking at on his laptop.

"Something for later," Len dismissed, leaning it up against the wall before reclaiming the pizza boxes and heading towards the kitchen. "I didn't expect you home till later, babe."

"Babe?" Barry looked up, smiling.

"Too saccharine?" Len asked as he placed the pizzas in the oven, turning it on low to keep them warm. He hadn't even realized he said it. It had just come out so organically it didn't even register until Barry pointed it out.

"Not at all, honey," Barry teased. Len walked around to where Barry sat, coming to stand beside him.

"How 'bout 'sweetheart'?" Len asked, leaning down for a kiss. He could feel Barry smile against his lips before pulling away. "Baby?" Another kiss. "Hot stuff?"

Another peck and Barry was now chuckling against his lips as he kissed him. Barry liked the playfulness of the terms of endearment, in fact, he'd take any of them over being called kid, something that took a couple of months into their relationship for it to finally all but disappear. The truth was he loved that Len called him Scarlet. He used it as a name, something special for him that only Len called him. It made him feel loved, like when Joe and Iris called him Barr, a simple nickname he'd never been called before, Barry already short for Bartholomew. It was something they had started after they took him in, after they became a family, and the nickname created a sense of belonging. He got the same feeling when Len called him Scarlet but if his boyfriend was willing to get affectionate with random pet names, the man who claimed to not be overly sentimental, Barry was not going to deny him that little engulfment.

"I could get definitely get behind 'baby' if you greet me like that each time," Barry responded, one more quick kiss to Len's lips before turning back to the laptop. "Back to your previous statement, Flash business wrapped up earlier than expected so I thought I'd come home and do what I needed to without Cisco trying to distract me."

Len spared a glance at the laptop screen and saw that Barry was looking at real estate listings. Confused at first, he quickly realized the implications.

"Oh shit, the lease on the loft is up soon isn't it?" Len smacked himself in the forehead. They'd talked about it a few times, Len promising to help him look for places when they had some spare time, but something always interrupted them; an alert for the Flash, a phone call from the Legends asking about breaking into someplace, that spot behind on Barry's neck that just begged for Len's attention. For two highly functioning adult men, they were easily distracted, especially by each other.

"Two weeks. I totally forgot about it until Iris made a comment to Caitlin about renting a moving van. So it's time for me to buckle down and figure out what comes next," Barry sighed. Len moved behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Barry's shoulder as he hovered behind him and observed the screen.

"You're looking at houses?" Len asked, surprise evident in his voice before he once again was distracted by the spot on Barry's neck, lips brushing against the skin.

"Stop."

"Stop, what?"

"You know what," Barry sighed, trying to focus on the laptop screen in front of him. As the distraction continued still at the task at hand, attacking his neck with his lips, Barry couldn't hold back the laugh as reached up to swat him away. "Len, stop!"

"Killjoy," Len mumbled, pulling his lips away but nuzzling further into the side of Barry's neck, wrapping his arms tighter around Barry's waist and pressing up against his back as if a koala hugging a tree. "So houses?"

"I don't know, I'm just exploring my options," Barry sighed again. "I just don't want to rush into something and two weeks is going to go by really fast."

"So stay here," Len chimed in and he could feel Barry stiffen beneath him.

"Are you asking me to move in with you?" Barry turned in his seat, Len's arms loosening around him so his speedster could turn to face him.

"You practically live here anyway, Scarlet," Len reasoned. It was true. Barry had a key already, barely stayed at the loft anymore, spent most nights with Len, coming here between CCPD and S.T.A.R. Labs to change or relax, spending their time together. "Stay here. Even if it's only till you find a place of your own if that's what you want."

"You sure? I can be messy at times and you're a neat freak," Barry smiled up at him impishly.

"Oh, I am already well aware of that," Len sighed. Barry had a habit of leaving a trail, whether of clothes, plates, whatever. He wasn't a slob but compared to Len's tidiness, it was like Barry was leaving breadcrumbs so Len could always find him.

"And I eat a lot," Barry added.

"You did just see me walk in the door with four large pizzas, did you not?" Len teased, rolling his eyes. "You also leave the lights on, you never put the toothpaste cap back, and you steal all the blankets just to then throw them off in the middle of the night. Anything you'd like to add?"

"Your feet are always cold, that's why I take the blankets!" Barry defended with an accusatory glare.

"Not what I meant, brat," Len pinched his side, causing his boyfriend to try to flinch out of the way.

"Yeah but you lo-ooove me," Barry teased, beaming up at him, drawing out the word 'love' with a mocking amount of syllables before pulling Len down for a quick kiss.

"That's it. I take it all back. Get out," Len said dryly, starting to pull away but Barry giggled and he just couldn't stop himself from leaning in to kiss the younger man tenderly.

"Thanks, babe," Barry said sincerely, the pet name spilling out of him now without a thought. Len kissed him on the cheek, all teasing aside, and let Barry continue his search while he grabbed the pizza from the oven and a couple of beers. No need for anything so formal as plates when his speedster boyfriend could pack away two full pizzas on his own. He set them up at the island, giving Barry a warning look to close the laptop, the matter being settled for the moment as they ate and chatted.

"So. Houses." Len brought up, peering over his beer bottle across the island. Barry paused mid-bite into his sixth slice of pizza and looked up at his boyfriend.

"Not into the idea of a house?" Barry asked, lifting an eyebrow curiously.

"I'm just surprised you are," Len shrugged, watching his partner's face for tells in his expression to indicate what he was feeling.

"I don't know, I was looking at apartments but I kept wandering over to bungalows and rowhouses. I've always wanted a home of my own," Barry sighed, putting down the slice of pizza as he spoke, picking at the toppings absently as his gaze wavered from Len to off to the side, lost in a memory. "I got taken out of the only home I'd ever known when my mom died. And then came into a home that wasn't mine, even though Joe's house ended up becoming the most at home I've ever felt in my life, but it was still someone else's home-in-progress. And even when I got the loft for Iris and me, it was building a home for her, the home of her dreams that I wanted to give her when I was so scared about how much time we had left together."

"So you want a home of your own?" Len nodded, thinking he understood.

"It's hard to explain. I know home is who you're with, not where you are. I've always felt at home with Joe and Iris and even at S.T.A.R. Labs, they're all my family. I've just always wanted that place that's mine, that I created for myself. Does that make sense?" Barry explained, eyes lighting up suddenly as he expressed the notion to Len, who had misunderstood. And Len nodded because it did make sense to him now.

For Len, it was about finding a home, something he never really had. He had a feeling of family with Lisa and Mick but got his first taste of what a home could be with the Legends. But not until he began falling for Barry did he realize what home felt like it, finding it in the arms of his lover.

But for Barry, who had known home with the family he was born with and the family that saved him when everything fell apart, it was about feeling that safety and comfort, of belonging and permanence. So much had changed in his life, lost so much. He was starting a new life for himself, something that had no ties to being the Flash or the Allen's or the West's. For the first time, he was getting an opportunity to really try to build that idea of home on his own. Len could understand why he'd allowed himself to get distracted, bouncing between ideas because of uncertainty.

"I always kinda liked the idea of a house that needs to be fixed up or renovated for the life I want to build in it," Barry paused, looking expectantly at Len for a moment before continuing, "For myself and my partner if he's interested."

Len gave him a small smile in response. He felt privileged for even being considered in this fantasy scenario of Barry's. He hadn't hesitated when offering Barry to live here with him, hoping he hadn't encroached on Barry's search for the home of his dreams but was relieved to know Barry had him in his thoughts when searching for his 'what comes next'.

"I'll clean up," Barry volunteered, getting up from the stool. When Len didn't immediately feel the whoosh or static of Barry using his powers to clean like he usually did for chores, his thoughts of the future were distracted when he looked up and saw that Barry was limping slightly as he made his way around the island.

"What happened to you?" Concern struck him suddenly.

"Oh, it was just this fire. I fell through one of the floors and got a piece of rebar stuck in my calf," Barry said, glancing down at his left leg before shrugging up at Len.

"Oh, is that all," Len mocked, coming around the island.

"Len, I'm- hey!" Barry exclaimed as Len suddenly hoisted him off his feet with an arm around his back and the other looped underneath his knees. Barry wrapped his arms loosely around Len's neck, holding on as Len carried him bridal style to the bedroom.

"Just a piece of rebar," Len muttered under his breath as he unceremoniously dropped Barry onto his back on the bed with an 'oof' from the younger man. Len leaned over him and yanked down the sweatpants to a slightly amused 'hey' as his lover made no effort to resist.

Once Len had removed Barry's pants, he climbed onto his knees onto the bed at Barry's feet and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage wrapped calf.

"Len, it's fine, I promise. In an hour it'll be completely healed without a trace," Barry tried to reassure him. "The good news is it's my left calf and I've already been stabbed there twice so no biggie."

"Twice? Barry Allen, I have explored every inch of you, thoroughly and repeatedly I might add, and I have never seen a scar there," Len couldn't keep the concern tinging his voice in what sounded like anger, like Barry had somehow been holding out on him. But Barry knew he was less mad at him for being so nonchalant about being hurt than he was at the fact that he'd gotten himself hurt again.

"My cells regenerate too fast for there to be scars," Barry replied and the thought hadn't occurred to Len before. And like a lightbulb going off he looked to Barry's left thigh and saw nothing but unblemished pale skin. He suddenly reached for the bottom hem of Barry's T-shirt and Barry allowed him to lift it over his head, laying back now in just his briefs as Len crawled over him.

Hands reached out to the right side of Barry's torso above his hip, tracing the path of the bullet wound he remembered so well but saw no trace of the injury. His fingers then traveled up to Barry's left shoulder and fingers felt behind where he remembered the entrance wound clearly and felt nothing but taut skin over firm muscle. How had he not thought of this before? Not a trace of the bullet wounds from the bank six months ago.

"The only scars I have are from before the lightning," Barry said, reaching a hand out to cup Len's cheek. There was a melancholiness in the way he said it and Len didn't need to question it. His own body was covered in scars, from his youth, criminal exploits, stupid mistakes, and epic stories. He was proud of them because it meant he survived. They told his story, was a roadmap of his life, where he'd been and what he lived through. With everything that Barry endured, he couldn't imagine what it was like to not have those proofs of survival, something that reminded you of what you experienced and reinforced your strength.

"It's like it never happened," Barry tried to smile up at him and Len knew he felt how he imagined he would.

"Tell me them," Len requested, looking at his eyes intensely. "Tell me the stories. Start with the ones I can see and then tell me everyone I can't."

Len saw the uncertainty in Barry's expression. Len eased back off him from where he hovered over him and got up off the bed. He removed his own pants, pulled his own shirt over his own head before returning to the bed. Down to just his boxers like Barry, exposed and vulnerable so that Barry wasn't alone as he asked him to expose even more.

Len climbed back onto the bed, swinging a leg over Barry until he was straddling his waist, hands reaching out to cup the sides of Barry's neck.

Barry pointed to the obvious one on his forehead from when he was sixteen and he and Iris had crashed Joe's convertible. When he finished the story Len leaned over and kissed the raised flesh atop the forehead. He did the same to the small faded white line on his right shoulder after Barry told him the brief story of the scar from a tree he'd been climbing when he was seven. The next story was from eight years later about a fifteen-year-old Barry Allen who, for a brief moment, stopped seeing the light in the world.

"It wasn't always easy for me. Even with Joe and Iris who I loved, I struggled growing up. Watching my mother taken from me so violently, being ripped from my home, not growing up with my dad, no one believing me and everyone thinking I was the son of the man who murdered his wife in front of me," Barry told, eyes not meeting Len's as he recounted the story of the three inch long horizontal mark on his forearm just below the bend of his arm. "I suffered from PTSD, night terrors and depression came in waves. At one point I couldn't take it anymore, I just wanted the pain to stop so I tried cutting. It didn't satisfy me like I wanted it to. And the thought of Iris or Joe finding me if I tried again and went too far, them having to live with that void like I did with my mom...I couldn't do that to them, they were everything to me. I never tried it again."

Len's lips lingered a little longer than the others on that scar after that story. He'd never dabbled with self-harm growing up but knew Lisa had taken to cutting when she was a teen. He understood the desire for the pain to stop, for trying to take control of it, but much like he had scooped up Lisa, begging her to stop, to stay, he hoped that since he wasn't around for younger Barry that at least Joe or Iris had been there to do the same.

"That's it," Barry had breathed, shaky, unsure how to feel about being the center of Len's razor-focused attention. He was used to it in a lovemaking capacity, Len's attention to detail a strong asset in the bedroom that Barry thoroughly enjoyed. But this was different, this was a type of vulnerability he'd never experienced. He healed fast so the pain was temporary. He didn't often have to think about what his body just went through. But he always remembered them, how he got them, what he endured, and had nothing to show for it. And sometimes the flashbacks would come or it would rain and he could feel the twinge and remember the agony and not being able to see it's aftermath sometimes made him feel like it never happened, like it downplayed his experience, like it was all in his head.

"Tell me about the ones I can't see," Len palmed his left cheek, thumb stroking the two moles underneath Barry's left eye. Like constellations in the sky, Len knew how to navigate Barry's skin as if he was an astronomer, able to map out every mole from memory. The two under his eyes were his favorite, second maybe only to the one that sat just above the right dimple in Barry's back, a small one just above the indentation over the where his pelvis and spin met above the right cheek. He adored the pale, freckled skin and wanted to know every time the beautiful milky flesh had been marred. If the world couldn't see what Barry had gone through, had survived, Len at least wanted to be able to acknowledge his strength.

Barry lay back as Len's hands traveled across his body, massaging and rubbing, not innately sexual but intimate, soothing, almost worshiping as he told him the stories of his injuries that would have left a mark, would probably have caused irreparable damage or killed him it hadn't been for his powers.

Len traced the jagged line down his chest with his lips that Barry had just drawn with his own finger, tracing the path of the Lichtenberg figure Barry had never seen it himself, only in photographs that healed before he woke up from his coma. Len's hand traveled to Barry's upper left thigh as he told him of the large piece of shrapnel from a helium tank trying to take down the Atom Smasher at the Flash Day celebration. Len's fingers kneaded the flesh with one hand while his mouth trailed feather-light kisses along the inside of his thigh down the leg until his lips met the top of the bandages wrapped around his current wound. He kissed it once for the new injury and twice for the two times Barry was stabbed there by Killer Frost.

"After Zoom broke my back, he stabbed me in the stomach at super speed with one of his claws," Barry pointed to spot on his torso below his rib cage on his right side. He inhaled sharply, the sensation almost ticklish, when Len kissed the spot he pointed to tenderly. He let his lips hover over the skin as he moved up to Barry's right shoulder, at the clavicle when Barry told him about Savitar's blade.

When Barry moved his arms from his side to reach for his lover, Len grabbed his hands and lifted them up over his head, fingers entwined, pressing them into the pillow as he leaned in just inches from his face.

"Let me worship you, baby," Len whispered, bending close, so close Barry could feel the warmth of his breath over his lips and it sent shivers down his spine. He could definitely get used Len calling him that, especially when he said it like that.

Len was looking down at his companion with an expression that made clear to Barry that this was a fierce and overwhelming need for him. Barry felt his own emotions heighten in response to the strength of Len's desire to make him feel special, to be seen, to share in his story.

So he stayed pliant and still as Len kissed at a patch of skin to the side of Barry's neck from a bullet that hadn't had the opportunity to completely pierce the flesh when Peek-a-boo's boyfriend shot at him from behind. He inhaled sharply and exhaled deeply when Len moved to the other side of his neck right at the collarbone where one of General Eiling's micro-fragments had dug deeper than the rest that had littered his body.

"Did I miss anything?" Len asked, eyes piercing as he looked down at him. He noticed the slight hesitation before Barry shook his head and knew there was an injury he wasn't telling him. Len pulled back slightly, releasing the clasp of his left hand to Barry's right and moved it to cup the side of Barry's neck. Was it too close of a call whatever injury story he was hiding? Was he embarrassed, was it difficult to talk about, or trying to spare Len's feelings? "Tell me."

Barry swallowed, eyes never wavering from Len's as he moved his right hand to above his hip on the same side. He bit the inside of his cheek before he finally spoke, voice quiet.

"Third-degree frostbite."

And for the first time in their entire relationship, Len felt something he swore to himself he'd never allow because he'd built his life on calculated decisions and rationale. For the first time in a long time, Len allowed himself to feel regret.

He didn't move to kiss the invisible scar, unseeable to the eye but not imaginary, not like it never happened as Barry had said. Instead, he glided his left hand across Barry's stomach to come to rest over where the patch of skin had been hit with a blast from the cold gun at their first encounter, where it had nearly frozen his blood vessels solid and permanently damaged the nerves. The warm hand massaged the spot while he felt Barry squeeze his right hand still clasped together on the pillow beside Barry's head and he leaned down to kiss, not the injury, but the man.

Hesitant and soft at first as Len covered his lips with his.

Tender, apologetic.

But Barry reached his free hand up to wrap around the back of Len's neck and pull him down hard against him.

Desperate, forgiving.

Barry devoured him with his mouth, coaxing Len's tongue to slide along Barry's and they only stopped when they could barely breathe anymore. Even then they stayed like that, hands pulling each other closer, parted mouths pressed together and inhaling the exhales of each other.

Len's hand traveled slowly from where it had covered the spot on Barry's hip, dipped between the waistband of Barry's briefs, and found his cock. The speedster moaned softly against his Len's lips, the sound muffled by Len's tongue as he wrapped his fingers around the shaft.

He ran his long fingers slowly up and down the stiff shaft, palming the swollen tip lightly at each pass. He smiled against Barry's lips as he felt his lover's dick swell even harder beneath his touch and the man himself arch up against Len's body on top of him.

Len ground his own boxer clad cock against Barry's groin, this time Barry swallowing Len's moan as they kissed, his thumb flicking across the head, palm smoothing down the shaft, rhythm building frantically.

"I love you so much," Len breathed into Barry's open mouth and the body beneath him pulled tight, then folded in on itself. Barry gasped his release against Len's mouth. His left hand squeezed the one still entwined with Len's while his other gripped the back of Len's neck as he rode out his high, hips bucking up and cock twitching as it erupted in Len's grip.

Len stroked him a few more times, then moved to lay his hands across the trembling muscles of his stomach, watching his lover come down from his high slowly.

"You're incredible," Len mused quietly as soon as Barry's breath had slowed again and his eyes opened.

"Your turn," Barry breathed, smiling dopily and kissed Len again, all soft lips and fluttering breaths.

"It's not about me tonight," Len shook his head, leaning down for another kiss.

"But I want you," Barry nudged his nose against Len's before his lips reclaimed his.

Len pulled back then, and one-handedly, his other still entwined with Barry's, pulled down Barry's boxers, The younger man lifted his hips to help while his free hand pulled at the waistband of Len's enough till his cock was exposed, full and hard.

Barry's legs spread to allow Len easy access. Len's arm went around his waist and pulled him close. He wrapped his legs around Len's waist as the older man pushed slowly into his body, laying atop him as he entered fully. When Len started thrusting, the movements small but going deep, Barry automatically tried to arch his back in pleasure but Len's weight kept him pinned down. So he settled for arching his neck.

He felt Len start to suckle his throat and he put his hand on Len's head to hold him there. He thrust his pelvis up as much as he could, matching Len's increasing tempo and creating as they both succumbed to the pleasure. His cock was fully erect even after the handjob he just received and was trapped between their bodies, the friction as it bounced between the flesh of each of their stomachs felt so good and it took all of Barry's willpower to prevent himself from coming too soon. It was slow, agonizing and wonderful as Len thrust into him with long, deliberate strokes, rocking Barry back and forth across the bed with each push, beautiful friction on his own cock between there bodies.

With a moan, Len pushed himself deep inside Barry and stilled, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin of Barry's neck as he came. The slight pain pushed Barry over the edge and he gasped Len's name as he came for a second time.

They lay there for a few moments, Barry lazily caressing Len's back as they came down from their orgasms. They finally unclasped their entwined hands by Barry's head as Len shifted to the side. Laying on their backs on the bed, heads turned towards each other as both their breathing slowed down.

Len maneuvered his boxers back up over his waist before moving his left arm from where it draped across his chest to lay beside Barry, leaning over he spread his right hand across Barry's cheek as he lowered himself to kiss Barry deeply. He continued to rub at his cheek for a moment as he gazed down at him. Barry leaned into the touch and followed as Len wrapped his left arm behind his back and rolled Barry to lay on top of him, kissing him lovingly on the lips, hand massaging the back of Barry's scalp.

"I love you," Barry smiled.

"Move in with me," Len said in response. Barry just blinked at him in surprise.

"You already asked me that," Barry chuckled, looking down at the man beneath him.

"No, I invited you to stay with me," Len shook his head, fingers dancing up and down Barry's spine as he held him tight. "Now, I'm asking you to move in with me, to live with me."

"I don't follow," Barry questioned as he folded his arms over Len's chest, resting his chin atop his forearms.

"This place was just somewhere to live. It didn't become a home until you came along," Len palmed the side of Barry's neck, hand splayed across his jaw. "I don't care if it's here, if its one of those houses you were looking at. Live with me. Move in with me, wherever that may be. I can't rest when you're not beside me, not in my arms. I can't sleep without your warmth pressed against my body. I can't settle without the feeling of your rabbit paced heart thudding in your chest as it's pressed against mine. Waking up without you is like a day without the sun rising. It's not a real morning if I don't wake up to your hair standing up in every which direction. It's not a start to my day unless you steal my coffee instead of getting a cup of your own. I don't care where we are, I just want to be with you."

Barry smiled down at him softly, leaning into the hand against his cheek.

"I want that too," he responded, bending over his arms to press a kiss against Len's lips. They discussed moving Barry in within the next two weeks completely and then looking at houses together to build the next chapter of their lives.
For Len, it was the idea of finding that home he'd never had. It started with inviting Barry to be a part of his life, holding him in his arms for the first time and the prospect of that becoming something more permanent thrilled and terrified him in a way that rivaled and surpassed his greatest heists. After searching his whole life, he'd finally found a home in Barry's arms.

For Barry, it was building something that was uniquely his own, his own path and own life that wasn't dictated or predestined or already in progress. It was in his control, it was something he chose for himself, with someone he chose for himself for the simplest reasons. Len fit into where his life was now and where he wanted it to be headed, helped guide him into exactly what he didn't know he needed after everything he'd been through. Len filled that place in his heart that made him feel homesick after breaking up with Iris, after losing Nora. Barry knew home and love his entire life, and he'd found it again with Len.

"So what's that package you brought home?" Barry smiled mischievously, changing the topic, and trying to lighten the emotion that hung between them. Little did he know, the emotions were about to get heavier.

"That, my love, is for you. I'll go-"

And before Len could finish the thought, suddenly the weight of his lover was gone in a flash as Barry sped out of the room. Len barely had time to sit up in bed before Barry returned. And in a blink, Barry had wiped them both down with a wet towel, quick clean up after sex was just another perk of dating a speedster. Barry was back again in another blink, dressed in his sweatpants now, sitting on the bed with his legs crisscrossed beneath him and the large brown-paper wrapped package between them.

"You didn't steal me an original Jackson Pollack did you," Barry smirked, the weight and shape making it obvious it was a piece of artwork.

"You're more of a Rothko than a Pollack, Scarlet," Len teased back, unable to stop the pounding in his chest at the anticipation of the unwrapping. He wasn't sure what to expect. It had taken him weeks to track down, a visit to some of his old fences as Captain Cold to help get it, even though there was nothing illegal about it.

He watched as Barry gently tore away the paper in strips, his face an expression like a kid on Christmas until the paper was all but torn away. His expression shifted immediately, confusion and disbelief as he glanced over the cherry-wood frame to Len in shock before looking back at the artwork in his lap.

Barry's eyes welled up immediately as his fingers hovered over the painting. It was a beautiful scene that was clearly from the waterfront, a spot underneath a tree in the park where his mother used to jog to clear her mind. His mother loved the water and would take him there for picnics when he was a kid where they'd sit under the tree with sandwiches or get hot pretzels and sit looking out across the water.

His fingers hovered down to the bottom right corner where, in fine white paint, was his mother's signature. He recognized this painting from where it had hung on the wall in the hallway upstairs in the old Allen residence.

"I'm trying to track down as many pieces as I can but-"

"God, Len," Barry interrupted, putting the painting gently aside before surging towards Len, wrapping his arms around him. Len let out a slight grunt as the full weight of Barry was thrown onto his lap and he wrapped his arms around him reflexively, a hand tucking Barry's head against his shoulder.

Len could feel Barry's shoulders shaking, could hear the hitches in his breath as he whispered 'thank you' over and over. He just held him for god knows how long, didn't try to pull away to look at his face, to kiss him, to speak to him. He just waited till Barry was ready. It'd be at least a half-hour before Barry pulled back just enough to press his forehead against Len's, taking in a stuttering breath before speaking.

"Thank you for giving me a piece of her back. I can't..." Barry squeezed his eyes shut briefly, a fresh tear finding it's escape before his eyes opened again. This close, Len could see the blue in Barry's hazel eyes so clearly that shone through when he cried, unlike the brown that burned with lust, or the green that shone in joy. "I can't thank you enough."

Len reached a hand up to brush the backs of his fingers to stroke his cheek.

"This is my thank you. For letting me be a part of your life, taking a chance on me," Len whispered, feeling the moisture gather in his own eyes as he got swept up in Barry's emotions, in his love for this man. "Letting me love you, loving me back. For the first time in my life, I know what having a home feels like. If I can give you a piece of your past to bring into your future, a future I very much want to be a part of, it feels like maybe I could be worth that love you give, that love you inspire."

He could never again deny that he was a sentimental man. Maybe it was just because he had no reason to be sentimental before but being in a relationship with Barry Allen sparked every sentiment he could ever imagine; refined feelings of tenderness, desire, adoration, emotional idealism, hope.

"You are worth loving," Barry whispered back. "You don't have to thank me, you don't have to do anything other than keeping being the Len I know, the Len I love."

Barry tilted his head and pressed his lips against Len's, his hands pressed against hi neck, settled between his legs as Len's arms wrapped around his waist. Len could feel the smile in his kiss as he pressed his soft warm lips tightly against his own. It was a soft, unhurried kiss, a melding of hearts and bodies with that warm and comforting feeling one could only describe as feeling right at home.