This Delicate Thing We've Made

genre: Romance

rated: M

authors note: very light non-sexual bondage in this chapter

Chapter 18: Light

"The light, it glitters
Your light, when I stand this close it's almost blinding
Turn it up, give me some room to grow
Turn it up, give me the senses to know
I have been changed, I have become
I have flamed under the sun
I'm the reflection of you
For something ordinary
It's so extraordinary
I trust, I put my faith in you"

"Len, come on, you're so slow," Barry said in exasperation, taking hold of Len's hand as they walked down the street.

"Scarlet, I need you to know how ridiculous that sounds coming from you," Len rolled his eyes.

They were in a trendy residential area right on the border of Englewood and New Brighton and still had about an hour before their reservation to this Jamaican restaurant that had amazing reviews that Barry had found and was eager to take Len to. He only recently found out that Len's mom was of Jamaican descent and was itching to explore that part of Len's heritage. Len pretty much shared everything with him nine months into deep into their relationship but he only sparingly talked about his mother. He wasn't keeping it from Barry, it just wasn't something he found comfort talking about so freely like Barry did Nora Allen. They processed their grief differently. Barry didn't push for more information, but any information he did get, the Flash ran with it.

"Barry, my dear, for someone who runs around the city for a living you have a terrible sense of direction," Len teased as they strolled further away from the mixed-use development he was sure the restaurant was located and instead turned onto a small side street with a cluster of four brownstone rowhouses before the road diverged into opposite directions, the road bookending a park with more row houses on the other side.

"Well, I can't argue with that but we're almost there," the eagerness in his voice did not go unnoticed by Len and when Barry stopped pulling him along suddenly, Len had to stop him himself from colliding with his boyfriend.

They had stopped dead in front of one of the brownstones, the end of the row on the corner, emblematic of the high-style Victorian brownstone style, sharing only one wall, three stories. A 'For Sale' sign was affixed to the iron railing with its announcement diagonally obscured by a sticker with block red letters indicating it had been sold. It looked familiar, probably one of the hundreds of homes they'd looked at online in the past few months.

He turned to Barry who beamed up at him as he pulled a set of keys from his bomber jacket pocket and smiled at him.

"Come on," Barry pulled on the hand still clasped tightly in his and guided him up the stone staircase, stopping in front of a vibrant dark red door. Barry inserted the key and hovered his hand over the knob. But before turning it, he turned towards Len and grabbed the other hand, holding them both between them.

"If I asked you one day to just put this all behind us," Barry's voice was quiet, thumbs gently gliding across Len's knuckles as he gripped his hands, "if one day I wanted to quit being the Flash, to just live a quiet life, would you go with me?"

"In a heartbeat," Len didn't even need to think about the question Barry asked. Captain Cold, thieving, this new security business, the Legends, even Central City, it meant nothing compared to what he held in his hands right now. Years ago late at night in the woods of Granite Peak National Park, not 10 miles from where they were standing now, Barry Allen asked him to find a new line of work, to play his game somewhere else. Leonard Snart scoffed, refused. But here they were again, standing in front of each other, this time Barry asking him to hypothetically change his entire life, and Len wouldn't hesitate to do it.

"A few months ago you asked me to move in with you, you tried to buy me a house. I'm sorry -"

"Do not apologize for what happened," Len brought his hands up to frame Barry's face. Barry sighed heavily, paused to regroup his thoughts because that's exactly what he was about to apologize for, biting his lip before he continued.

"I wanted this to be a surprise, for you. Having you by my side these last few months as I struggled to get through what happened, physically, mentally, emotionally, meant more to me than you could know," Barry leaned into the touch, bringing his hands up behind Len, rubbing across the broad back. "I hesitated when it came to buying a house because even though I was certain about us, I couldn't be certain about what I really wanted."

"And now?" Len asked, not because he didn't know, he just wanted to hear how Barry answered.

"I want to continue to build a life with you," Barry smiled at him before jerking his head towards the vibrant red door of the quaint brownstone, "Will you live this life with me?"

Len nodded, smiling back at him, leaning in for a sweet kiss. He'd said many times in his life that there were no strings on him. These past nine months proved him wrong. There was one single string, a thread. East Asian folklore described it as red, a thread of fate connecting two people, destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. The magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. He was bound to this man, even if it took the long way to get here, they somehow found their way to each other.

Len couldn't help but tease as they broke the kiss, "You gonna carry me over the threshold?"

Barry giggled, grabbed his hand and guided him into the home. It was partially renovated, a lot of the heavy lifting done but still plenty of work to do themselves. It had all been in the process of being remodeled by the previous owners before deciding to move out and in doing so had inadvertently left it reminiscent of an industrial style. Brick and textured walls, exposed metal and steel, it was modern but historic and Barry wanted to embrace it. Barry toured him through the house, talking of his visions for each space; the lowest floor perfect for an office space for Len's security consulting, enough light coming in from the egress windows in the partial basement level while still maintaining privacy. The parlor floor had a living room at the front with a custom window seat that Len could just picture Barry curling up with a book and a kitchen with a new steel balcony at the rear. The kitchen was long but narrow and Barry talked about how he wanted to tear down the wall separating it from another room to make one large space, exposed brick, and rich woods with a large community type dining table that could fit all of Team Flash or even all of the Legends.

The wood period-staircase led to two floors but Barry insisted he'd show him after dinner and Len suspected he was up to something. But he played along because he couldn't deny the joy it brought his lover.

So they left, enjoyed the restaurant that had an Ital Stew that had all the warm flavors he remembered when he would help his grandfather prepare it as a child. As he shared a spoonful with Barry, watched the man close his eyes in pleasure, Len would be lying if it didn't pull at his heart a little sharing a piece of his heritage he'd often ignored. It was that moment he decided he would try to revive some of his pleasant childhood memories of cooking family dishes with his grandfather by bringing into their new home.

They had tried nearly everything on the menu, Len sampling and Barry devouring. They were able to meet the owner with a promise to return to what was sure to become a local spot for them, and walked along the town square in what was to be their neighborhood before heading back to the house.

Len followed Barry up the steps, the first level above the parlor floor Barry had plans for two guest rooms, a large room that could be an office slash workout area, and a decent size bathroom. The top floor Barry had decided was for them. The master bedroom overlooked the street, sizable as it took up the two-thirds of the floor with a small terrace. The bathroom suite at the rear took up the rest of the level and Barry stopped them just outside the door, turned to Len, and held up a hand.

"One minute. Stay here," he said with a kiss, leaving Len in their future bedroom to look around with a contemplative eye, mapped a potential layout of the room while Barry busied himself in the bathroom.

Barry called out to him a few minutes later and Len entered the bathroom, taking in view of the space with the dimmed overhead lights, a dozen candles giving off a romantic glow. The grand bathroom was expansive, clearly one of the few finished projects of the previous owners as it had definitely been updated. It had almost a spa-like feel, calming grayscale tones on the tiles of the floor, painted cement walls. The far wall had a large walk-in shower, doorless and large enough for two. The sink and toilet to the left, to the right a modern freestanding stone tub filling with bubbles, a skylight placed for extra light and stargazing while soaking.

"So what do you think?" Barry asked as he stood in the middle of the bathroom, stark naked.

Len looked him straight in the eyes and answered, "perfect." The home, the romantic gesture, him, all of it.

Len waisted little time undressing, Barry entering the tub first before he climbed in, his back to Barry as the younger man wrapped his arms around Len's chest and his legs on either side of his.

"Good?"

"Oh yeah," Len leaned his head back, resting on Barry's shoulder. Retrieving a sponge from nearby, Barry started lazily washing Len's body.

Len got lost in the relaxation, the intimacy, savoring the feel of Barry behind him and suddenly he just started talking. He talked about his grandfather, his parents, his childhood. He told Barry of how when his mother wasn't high, she would spend her days teaching Len how to cook. He was five when she left without a trace, unable to take her father anymore. They weren't married so it was easy for her to disappear.

"She wasn't a perfect person but she deserved better than Lewis," Len felt Barry lean forward so that his chin was resting on his shoulder.

"So did her son," Barry added. Len didn't say anything else. He didn't like talking about his past, just wanted to concentrate on the here and now. And his future with the man he was enveloped in.

He glanced down to Barry's right knee beside him in the water, soft hands rubbing over the joint. Not a trace of the bullet wound, the reparative surgery, no physical reminder of the two weeks after it took for him to gain full usage. Just another patch of unblemished milky, soft skin. Then he moved his hands to the arms around him, looking down at the wrists as his thumb traced over the lines of raised flesh that had disappeared, no more evidence of the physical damage done by restraining ropes, even though the damage had been lasting.

It was only two months ago, they had spent four nights at Joes's as Barry had healed before returning to the apartment. A twinge of regret had resounded through Len, the house he had picked for them now a house of horrors, afraid it had caused Barry to doubt moving out together. He didn't want the man he loved to be afraid, to feel uncertain about where he was supposed to go next after what happened to him. But after two days in the apartment, Barry was completely healed and eager to get back out there as the Flash, to try to save people even though he himself still felt unsafe. Not with Len, not with Central City, but with his own fears. He'd had enough trauma in his life to expect unexpected triggers, but he couldn't let that keep him from living his life.

But one day Len had been in the kitchen of the apartment when there was a rush of wind and suddenly Barry was clinging to him. Len had to adjust himself to support the weight of Barry clinging to him.

"Len," he gasped, suit on but cowl down. He was flush, breathing rapid and shallow. It took a lot of coaxing, of breathing deeply together, and a steaming cup of hot cocoa on the couch for Barry to calm down. He'd been fighting alongside Ralph against some bank robbers when one of them had managed to bolo Barry's legs together. It would have been easy to phase out of them but Barry panicked, froze, struggled as he tried to free his legs with shaking hands. Elongated Man was able to knock them out and Barry barely stayed long enough for the cops to take over before running out of there. But now an hour later, panic attack subsided, freshly showered and changed into sweats, cocoa cups abandoned, they sat side by side on the couch.

"Barry, sometimes it takes a while to be okay," Len was going for comforting but Barry could only filter it through his own insecurities and frustrations.

"I'm fine. I can still do my job!" Barry fumed, agitated, pushing himself off the couch.

"No ones saying you can't, Scarlet," Len said, still sitting, watching as Barry began to pace. "I didn't mean-"

"I know, it's just..." Barry brought a hand to his head, clenching his eyes tightly as he turned away from Len. "I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself. It's just-fuck!" Barry grabbed the sides of his head, doubling over. Len wanted to grab him and hold him but was afraid of sending the young man into a panic at any sudden movement. Instead, he held out a hand and waited.

Barry finally dropped his hands and turned to face Len again on the couch. He took the extended hand and allowed Len to guide him till they were stretched out on the couch, Barry seated back against Len, arms loosely wrapped around him.

"I don't want to develop a fear of being trapped," Barry sighed, leaning back against Len. "I was powerless. I couldn't get free, I couldn't yell at him or for help. I don't want to keep going back there in my mind."

"Tell me what you need," Len whispered, nuzzling his face into the side of Barry's head, seeking comfort in the softness of Barry's hair, the smell his shampoo, the warmth of his body, desperate to find a way to bring comfort to him.

Barry didn't have answers for him that night, he just let Len hold him loosely as he cried, and they fell asleep on the couch. The next day Barry asked Len to go to therapy with him and Len didn't hesitate because even though he had reservations about shrinks, his lover was telling him what he needed. So they went to Dr. Finkel who helped them by suggesting replacing those moments of fear of being trapped with moments where he felt undeniably safe and loved.

So they had started small, sitting on the couch, Len's muscular arm wrapped around Barry's lean waist to pin both of his arms to his sides. He let him get used to being physically restrained, calming his breathing, reminding himself he was safe in Len's arms, there was no danger here. Then Len's free hand came up to tilt his chin, kissing him gently on the side of his mouth before laying his palm over his lips, lighting putting pressure on them to keep them shut. It reminded Barry of a time that felt so long ago, bleeding out in a bank, hiding from five armed assailants, Len's holding him tight, hand clamped over his mouth to keep him quiet, to keep them safe. Barry felt his heart racing but with a sigh, let his head fall back so it rested on Len's chest, eyes fluttering shut as he focused on Len's hands, arms, soft lips pressed to his temple, quiet whispered words of Barry being safe, loved, home.

After that, they tried actual restraints, Len not sure but Barry begging him.

"Please, Len, we'll go easy," he'd pleaded. They loved mixing bondage in their sexual activities and Barry didn't want to freak out on him if they tried it. So they agreed to a soft medium, no sex.

So Barry sat on the couch, clad only in boxers when Len joined him with an assortment of scarves. Sitting next to his boyfriend, he began laying them out on the cushions in a neat line. Barry looked on with increasing anticipation, trying to quell the rising anxiety of he knew what was coming. Len was going to tie him up, hold him. He was going to be safe, there was nothing to be afraid of.

"Hands in front," Len said softly, picking up a purple scarf as Barry obliged, crossing his wrists in front of him, a sharp intake of breath when they were bound together with the soft fabric. Len gripped the bound wrists in between both hands and his head snapped up to look at Barry.

"I'm okay," Barry reassured him, leaning forward to give him a quick delicate kiss to Len's lips, answering the silent but questioning gaze. "It's not too tight. Thank you for doing this."

Len went back to work, slowly, gently, lovingly tying Barry's bare ankles, knees, grabbing a longer one made of yellow silk to wrap around Barry's upper arms just above the elbows, pinning them to his sides.

Len checked with him along the way, making sure it wasn't too much, that he felt okay, that he felt safe. Barry would smile and nod, or ask him to wait as he got used to another restriction. But as they Len checked in with him now that he was done binding him, Len was taken by surprise at what was said next.

"Gag me, please," Barry whispered, eyes brimming with tears. He needed this, he needed Len to do this with him.

Len hesitated only long enough to surge forward and kissed him again, their lips slightly parted, trembling with nervousness until Barry's tongue tentatively moved between Len's lips, encouraging. When Len pulled away he brought the soft fabric up Barry's already parted lips and gently tied it into a cleave gag. Barry nodded when Len picked up another scarf, tying it over his mouth to cover the first one.

"You good?" Len asked, hands cupping Barry's face, lightly tracing the soft fabric with his thumbs. Barry chewed lightly on the thick scarf between his lips, pulled against the scarves binding him, and realized he was good. He focused on Len's eyes, the warmth of his hands against his face, the closeness as he sat beside him and he felt safe.

When he nodded, Len leaned in to kiss him on the forehead, the temple, and once on his gagged lips. He situated himself on the couch, pulling Barry to rest back against him, head leaning against his chest. He felt good, secure. Every once in awhile Barry would wriggle a bit, prompting Len to hold him tighter, pepper kisses along Barry's temple and jawline, and Barry felt so safe and secure, that he fell asleep like that.

The anxiety was still there, but when Barry went out there as the Flash, he wasn't afraid of doing his job. He'd been victimized, but he wasn't a victim. He felt isolated when taken by Mardon, but he made it home. He was saved, he could keep saving other people.

They did the work, individually and together, to heal the wounds. And now here they were two months later, Len wrapped in Barry's arms, Len marveling at the scars that he knew were there but didn't show a single shred of evidence because Barry's skin repaired itself and Barry's heart and mind were even more resilient. He survived, just like every other close call that tried to take Barry away from him, during and before they even got to where they were now. But again, that was the past and Len wanted to concentrate on here, now. Their future.

"I found my resiliency growing up the way I did. I found my strength in my ambition to be the best thief in Central City. I found courage when you challenged me to be better and found purpose when I joined the Legends. But finding love with you, I found meaning," Len finally spoke up, runnings his hands up and down Barry's arms around him beneath the soapy water. "Scarlet, earlier you asked me a hypothetical question,"

Barry 'mhmmm-d', kissing the side of Len's neck as he dipped the sponge underneath the water, scooping up some bubbles before continuing to massage Len's upper body with the sponge.

"You've done a lot to make an honest man out of me," Len continued and suddenly he could feel Barry still behind him, the sponge hovering now over his shoulder. "I hope one day we can take that a step further."

It wasn't a proposal. More like a proposal of the future notion of a proposal. Elusive and coy in true Leonard Snart fashion but sentimental like the man he'd become. He never considered himself a man who would ever consider marriage. But then again he had never imagined being in love the way he was. A few things happened though, in the past few months, that put the idea in his head, a big one was almost losing Barry. What if Joe hadn't been there to tell the EMTs he was his partner, the idea of having no rights, to be with him if he was sick or hurt. He couldn't put all his bets on Joe being there to vouch for him, for S.T.A.R. Labs being there allowing him to sit by his bedside, for any cop outside of CCPD to defend him since he was dating their golden boy, for the world to acknowledge his right to be by Barry's side when they and everyone else wouldn't hesitate to judge whether or not he earned that right.

But the biggest was that he knew he'd never been happier in his life than he was with Barry Allen. He knew that he didn't need to marry him to keep that, that a piece of paper and a shiny ring wasn't going to change that for them. But his father never married his mother, never loved her, and Len didn't ever want Barry to feel that way, especially since he was a young man who believed in the power of love more than any person who lived in the real world had the right to. Even though Barry had never made mention of them getting married, the fact that he kept the symbols of his time as Iris West's husband, cherished the mementos, told Len that Barry believed in the power of marriage. It wasn't that Len would be doing something against his nature by becoming a husband, it was just that his nature had evolved. And it had a lot to do with the man who he'd just pseudo-proposed to.

With a small spark of lightning, suddenly Len had his back against the bathtub instead and Barry was in front climbing over him, a knee on each side of Len's hips. Len stroked his hands down Barry's sides as the man leaned down to kiss him, deep, loving, hungry. Len wrapped his arms around Barry's waist, giving a small tug and pulling Barry further onto his lap, the water splashing around them and Barry smiled against his lips with a happy little 'mmmm'. Just as Len started to tilt his head to deepen the kiss, Barry pulled away leaving Len to chase his lips.

"I'm leaving it in your hands if you ever want to take that step. I don't need a ring or a wedding but know I would say yes if you ever did actually ask me," Barry said, dripping hands resting on the sides of Len's neck. He understood what Barry was saying to him. Leonard Snart didn't like surprises, he didn't like strings. He liked making the plan, even when the plan went off the rails. He knew the only reason Barry felt okay with surprising him with the house tonight was because Len had tried to do the same, had made it perfectly clear that where they lived meant very little to him. The house was about Barry, Len didn't care if it was here, the apartment, or a small cot on a TimeShip, as long as Barry was there. "This, you, me, this is everything. However we live this life, as long as it's together, is enough."

He had Len, a new chapter in a new home, he didn't need to be married again to feel like it was forever. He knew by the way Len looked at him, held him, kissed him. He was happy. Barry didn't need more.

Len didn't tell him that he deserved more even though he wanted to. He didn't tell him that he had already bought a set of bands, a gold with carved silver inlay for Barry and a silver with a carved gold inlay for himself, reflections of each other, different but a perfect set. He didn't tell him they were tucked away in a hidden pocket in his parka, waiting for the right moment. He didn't tell him that he'd known since the night he grabbed Barry by the arm and kissed him in the park that he'd found what he'd been searching for, that he'd been changed forever, that he was addicted to Barry's light.

He didn't say anything else. He just leaned in and captured Barry's lips, lacing the fingers of one hand in Barry's short, wet hair while the other hand dipped under the water to nestle at the small of Barry's back. Nothing felt as extraordinary as the most ordinary of things with his love, dinner, a quiet night at home, the taste of his lips. If this was that ever after that everyone was always seeking, Len understood the appeal.