After little Lisa makes a surprise discovery, Barry and Len end up dredging up an age old argument - whether or not to get their daughter a dog.
"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" Lisa squeals, leaping straight into Barry's arms the second he comes to a stop in their living room.
"Thank me?" He wraps his daughter in a huge bear hug, confused as all get out. "Thank me for what? Len?" Barry takes off his hood and looks at his husband, sitting like a king on his throne in his La-Z-Boy recliner. "What's going on? When you called, you said it was urgent."
"It is, in a sense," Len starts, being obnoxiously vague as always when Barry wishes he would just answer a straightforward question with a straightforward answer for once. "It seems that our little Lisa here figured out that we've been planning on getting her a dog."
"What?" Barry asks, caught between pissed and paternal. Yes, the ever continuing 'dog' discussion is an important family saga, but it's not exactly urgent. On the flip side, he wasn't doing much down at S.T.A.R. Labs other than monitoring street cams in the industrial district. "Didn't we specifically say no dog?"
"Oh, you don't have to keep up the act, Daddy," Lisa says, kissing him on the cheek. "I know you wanted to wait for my birthday but …" She sighs, her expression slipping from effervescent smile to apologetic frown "… I'm sorry I snooped. I'm sorry I found the collar."
Barry's confusion drops off his face like a rock, along with his jaw smacking to his chest. "Wh-what … wh-what collar?"
"The collar we've been hiding in that secret drawer beside our bed, Barry," Len explains with a smirk.
"Uh, didn't you make it perfectly clear that that drawer was off limits?" Barry asks, setting Lisa gingerly on her feet.
"A-ha. But apparently a little birdie told her that's only because that's where we hide all her presents." Len stands and puts his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "And poor, impatient Lisa couldn't resist."
"And did you ask her who told her that?" Barry asks, teeth clenched tight. He suspects her Aunt Lisa, whom she was named after. Though, considering the company they keep, it could have been literally anyone on either side of the law.
Like Mick.
Yup, it had to be Mick, Barry decides. Pulling a prank like this is a very Mick Rory thing to do.
Barry's just glad he kept it relatively PG … and non-lethal.
"Of course I did, Barry. Who do you think I am?" Len says with a wink, tongue-in-cheek reminding Barry how, in the past, his interrogation techniques were renowned in the underground.
"And what did she say?"
"She says she's no snitch."
"And you accepted that as an answer?"
"Accepted it? I respect it. She has honor." Len beams down at his daughter's glowing face. "I think that alone should earn her a dog."
Barry looks at his daughter, staring up at him with excitement and hope-filled eyes. They shouldn't be having this argument in front of her, especially since she's about to be overruled. "Excuse us for a moment, Peanut. I have to talk to your father alone."
"Ok, Daddy," she says, plopping down happily in Len's chair.
Barry grabs his husband's arm and zips him out of the room, onto the front porch.
"She doesn't deserve anything if she's invading our privacy!" Barry scolds in a whisper, not certain Lisa won't be listening at the door.
"Be happy she stopped at the collar, Barry. You and I both know there are way more psychologically damaging things in that drawer than that. Besides, what do you have against her getting a dog? I, for one, think it's a good idea, considering you're a superhero and I'm an ex-con. A Rottweiler or a pit bull might be good investment for the whole family."
"We have a security system! A good one! The best! There are eyes on her at all times! But that's not even the point. It's the principle. We laid down a law …"
"A stupid law if you ask me."
"Who's going to take care of it?" Barry switches gears because, of course, his husband would have no respect for rules. "I'm barely at home during the day …"
"I'm a house-frau now. I'll take care of it. And so will she. Bare, you can't say no to her now. Not after …" Len can't finish, snickering at the ridiculous reality of this little coup. Besides, in order for Lisa to get into that drawer of theirs, she had to have picked the lock.
Len is too proud over that to be upset.
"Len, this is not the way this is supposed to work! If she wants a dog, she needs to earn it!"
"By doing what? She's already a straight-A student. She keeps her room clean, she makes dinner more nights than I do, and according to Felicity, she's been troubleshooting most of Oliver Queen's latest tech. What more do you want her to do, Barry? Save the world?"
"We need to talk things over," Barry insists. "Hash them out. We need to discuss pros and cons, feeding and walking schedules, lay out some ground rules."
"You and rules," Len scoffs.
"Getting a dog is a huge responsibility!"
"More so than keeping your identity a secret? Because our kid has been doing that her entire life."
Barry glares. "That's not fair. That falls under the category of extenuating circumstances. I want to handle this the way a normal family would, Len, because that's all I ever wanted for Lisa. Normal."
"I hate to break it to you, Red, but you and I both failed at that right from the conception stage. Lisa's not normal. She's brilliant and talented, and more than likely will grow up to be a super-human crime fighter with a computer brain. And her life isn't normal. It's complicated. Severely complicated. In fact, getting her a dog is literally the most normal thing you can do for her, so let's get her the damn dog!"
"That's not a decision we should be making right now. Not while we're arguing."
"So what do we do? Huh? She already thinks she's getting a dog."
"Well, she's mistaken. She needs to understand that she's not going to get rewarded for messing around with things she has no right messing around with."
"Ha!" Len barks, stepping in to his husband's space, the shadow of a vengeful gleam veiling his eyes. "Two words, Barry Allen – time line."
"Timeline is one word," Barry retorts, clearing his throat of the awkward. "Lisa's a big girl. She's mature for her age. I'm sure that if we tell her the truth, she'll understand."
Len shakes his head. "Barry, if she's mature enough to know that her parents have a collar kink, then she's mature enough to own a dog. But, if that's the way you feel about it, fine."
"Good," Barry says, a triumphant and relieved smile on his face. "I'm glad we agree."
"For the record, we don't agree," Len says. "But at least, this time, I won't be the bad guy."
"Whatever." Barry reaches for the door handle, but stops when he notices his husband retreat to the porch swing and sit down. "Aren't you coming?"
"Truth is your territory. So have at it, Flash."
"Nice." Barry takes a deep breath and braces himself. Just because he won this argument doesn't mean he's looking forward to breaking his daughter's heart. She's wanted a dog for forever. And that look on her face when she leapt into his arms? That's the happiest she's been in a long time. But happy or no, he's made up his mind.
He will not be manipulated into giving in, even if this whole thing did start with a misunderstanding.
He opens the door and walks into the house. He spots Lisa, rocking in the recliner and looking at her phone. He catches a peek at her screen and his heart deflates. During the course of his and Len's conversation, she had started scrolling through a Pinterest board she'd made titled 'Dogs of my Dreams'. She was adding to it – tiny little tea cup dogs, Pomeranians, Chihuahuas, poodles, and such.
He approaches his daughter slowly, preparing himself for the worst conversation of his life. A creak in the floor causes her to lift her head, and the smile that lights her face at her father's approach is positively blinding.
Barry swallows hard. "Lisa?"
"Yeah, Daddy?"
Ugh. She called him Daddy. This is going to be impossible.
"There's something I need to explain to you … about that collar."
"Yes?"
Barry crouches down in front of her, meeting her eye to eye. "You see, sometimes when you buy a collar, it's for a dog."
"A-ha …" Lisa giggles, rolling her eyes as if to say duh!
"And sometimes, two people … two grown adults who don't own a dog, might buy a collar to …"
"Yeah …"
"Well, they might buy a collar because …"
"Because …"
Barry looks at Lisa's face, at that thousand-watt smile dimming with every second of this asinine explanation. Is he really going to do this? Is he really going to tell his beloved daughter that she can't have a dog, and that that collar she found is one of among a dozen of her two fathers' favorite sex toys? That the last time they used it, Barry himself was wearing it, and Len was riding him like bronco, growling in his ear and smacking his ass?
No. He can't do that. What responsible parent would?
When Barry first found out he was going to be a father, his own father gave him some valuable life advice. "Pick your battles," he'd said. "Because things will come up that you'll never dream of, things that you would hope to never handle. But, in the end, when you're debating right and wrong, you'll have to decide – are you doing what's best for your child? Or what's best for you? Because, surprisingly, the two aren't always the same."
So Barry has to choose between psychological trauma or pet dog?
When he thinks of it in those terms, the answer is quite simple.
"Because they have a particular dog in mind," he covers, smiling to match hers, to bring it back up the few notches it had fallen. "And the ones you're looking at are way too small."
"Really!?"
"Really! I mean, how are you going to play catch with a dog the size of a baseball? Not unless you're using the dog as the ball."
"Dad-dy!"
"So let's go down to the shelter and find a dog big enough to fit that collar."
"Yay!"
"Now (and this is the part Barry hates) go get your shoes on while I tell your father the good news."
"Okay!" Lisa hops off the recliner and back into her father's arms, squeezing him so tight, it takes Barry's breath away. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you, too, Peanut. Get going. We're burning daylight."
Lisa jets past her father at incredible speed, racing upstairs to her bedroom while Barry strolls onto the porch to inform Leonard Snart that they are, in fact, going to adopt a dog. She stops at the top landing when she hears her father say, "I'm proud of you, Flash. You're making our little Bug very happy," and smiles.
Lisa loves her family.
Her entire family.
She unlocks her phone and dials the first number in her phone log.
It only rings once.
"So, Kiddo. Did it work?"
"A-ha. Just like you said, Uncle Ollie."
In his den at The Foundry, Oliver grins. "Good girl. Now, go get your dog. And make sure you send your mom and me tons of pictures when you do."
"Sure thing. And thanks!"
"You're welcome." Oliver hangs up the call and slips his phone back in his pocket. Sitting beside him on the sofa, a mildly amused Felicity shakes her head.
"Well, well, well. It looks like Leonard Snart may be rubbing off on you a tiny bit."
"Nonsense." He wraps an arm around his wife's shoulders and pulls her close. "I was a sneaky, conniving s.o.b. long before he and I met."
She nods. "Hmm. That's true. But I feel bad."
"Why? Don't you think Lisa deserves a dog?"
"Yeah, but Barry told us about that collar in confidence. Did you have to use it against them?"
"I didn't have to ..."
"We could have invited them over, and talked about it like adults," Felicity says, a slight reprimand in her tone.
"Absolutely." Oliver chuckles, imagining how uncomfortable it's going to be for Barry and Leonard to see their newest family member strutting around their house wearing that particular collar. "But this was more fun."