A/N: Barry gets jealous when he discovers some of the ways in which Len had to get information from people - women especially - during his missions on the Waverider, and Len tries to reassure his boyfriend that he's his one and only.

***The first installment was so cute that I decided to make this sort of a series of times when Len and Barry fell asleep together in different situations.

"Barry! Barry, slow up! Fuck, Barry! Barry, stop!" Len bellows, racing out of a packed Saints and Sinners after his irate boyfriend. Even though Len is jogging, Barry is … well, Barry is The Flash. Staying five steps ahead is something Barry can do with no effort. The fact that he hasn't completely taken off in a streak of red and yellow lightning yet, even though he can leave Len effectively in the dust in a heartbeat, gives Len encouragement that he can win Barry back. "Barry … what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving your sorry ass," Barry shouts in response without turning around or slowing down. Barry thought he could escape – walk out the back door of the bar while everyone was yucking it up inside, and then, when he was in the dark of the parking lot, put on a burst of speed and be back at his apartment before anyone realized he was gone. But Len, who had been sitting next to Barry, watching him like a frickin' hawk the entire time, figured it out the second Barry bypassed the bathrooms and zipped out through the kitchen without the staff seeing him.

"I can see that. Why are you leaving's the question? What's got your goat?"

"You know what."

"I know what what?" Len shuffles to a stop even though he knows he might lose his chance if Barry decides to take off running. Realizing exactly what Barry is mad about, he drops his head back and laughs in disbelief. "Oh, God! Barry! You're not going to get angry about that, are you?"

"I'm not angry," Barry says, finally slowing down. "I'm …"

"… jealous," Len finishes. He's almost proud of the fact, and that steams Barry even more.

They were having a great evening. The crew of the Waverider were so happy to be back, and Barry was thrilled to have Len home again. Alcohol was flowing, with everyone but Barry and Len getting their buzz on (Len normally abstains with Barry around since it doesn't seem right that Barry can't get drunk, too). At some point, the conversation turned to the many, many people that Len had to sweet talk information out of, apparently sometimes more than talk, and Barry got a little hot under the collar.

"I am not jealous," Barry lies, contemplating leaving before the discussion circles back around.

"Good," Len says, sauntering up to his boyfriend and slipping his hands into Barry's back pockets, "because there's nothing to be jealous of. It's all part of the job, babe," he explains without remorse. "It didn't mean anything. I was just … pumpin' people for information."

"Yeah? What else were you pumping them for, huh?" Barry scoffs, fighting off the urge to melt against Len's body regardless of how ticked off he is. It's been a while since they've seen one another. This shouldn't be a time for anger. Only ... the people that Ray and Rip and Sara were joking about – those nameless, faceless, unimportant people - got to spend time with his boyfriend that Barry didn't get to have, and everyone is treating it like it's no big deal. Worse, like it's a joke.

It's not a joke to Barry.

"What about you?" Len deflects in an attempt to tease the ire out of him. "Do you think I'm getting jealous knowing that you're back here in 2016 racing after strange guys in your red leather suit? Wasn't it Cisco who said that one of them even mentioned it was his biggest fantasy?"

Cisco – he seemed to be the only person who, even tipsy, could tell how much this subject bothered Barry. Using the faulty common sense that comes with inebriation, he slurred that piece of information out there thinking, Barry guesses, that that would put him and Len on an even playing field.

It didn't. Instead it became fodder for the laugh-fest that ensued.

Len smirks when he repeats it, so Barry knows he's not seriously upset.

"You're being ridiculous," Barry spits. "And what does it matter since you obviously don't seem to care."

"Hey, I care." Len wraps his arms around Barry's waist, trying to get his boyfriend to hug him back. "At least I wasn't kissing any other guys," he points out, hoping that'll ease the burn.

It doesn't.

"Come on, Barry," Len whispers when he gets no response. "You know you're my one and only."

Barry huffs, but he starts to relax. Just a hair. Not so that Len can feel it. But Barry can't really help himself. Len feels so warm, and underneath the smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke from the bar, he smells so good… "Am I really?"

"Of course you are." Len places kisses at the hollow of Barry's neck. "You know you are. And besides," he chuckles darkly, knowing his next comment will probably dig a deeper hole for himself, "I left all those rando chicks in different time lines. When am I ever gonna see them again?"

Barry rolls his eyes. That's his Len. Just when he finds a way to break down Barry's walls, he opens his mouth and builds one up again. "Wow, that's … that's really … romantic."

"I'm just tryin' to get you to laugh."

"I'll laugh when you say something funny."

"I'm funnier in private," Len mentions, suggestively sliding a leg between Barry's. "Do we have to talk about this here?"

"No," Barry says, peeved that Len is trying to solve this problem with sex instead of actual conversation. "Of course not. Let me take us someplace more private."

Lightning crackles around their heads. A whooshing noise dampens the noises of the street and the bar. A swoop of motion sickness swirls in Len's stomach. It comes together in one surge of sound and motion, and when they stop, Len is standing inside a small, padded cell, with Barry standing outside, arms folded.

Len sighs, raising a fist to knock on the impregnable glass. "Mature. Real mature."

"You wanted to go someplace private," Barry snipes. "The pipeline is about as private as it gets."

"Not with the amount of security cameras you guys have in this place. But hows about we go with choice number two? Provided it's not Iron Heights, that is," Len adds, just in case Barry is pissed enough at Len to actually drop him off at a prison other than S.T.A.R. Labs' meta-human zoo.

Barry actually takes a second to think it over, eyes shifting to look at the ceiling as he swipes through his options, and regardless of the fact that Len is at Barry's mercy, he has the balls to laugh.

"Fine," Barry groans. Another crackle of lightning, another deafening whoosh, and another sickening swoop later, they're standing in the living room of their apartment. "Here. We're home," Barry says, dropping Len on the sofa. "Now what?"

Len lands on his ass, highly unamused, but he has the sense and the newfound sensitivity to understand that that's not important. His pride isn't important.

His boyfriend is.

"Barry, do you know what it's like on the Waverider?" Len stands slowly, searching for that happy medium between sincere and seductive that will smooth things over. "Being away from you? It's miserable and cold … and it's lonely. I know I have the crew, and we're always doing something, but it's also a lot like being in solitary - just you and your thoughts for hours on end. And that's something I've never stood very well. You know that."

Len takes Barry's hand. Len's skin is warm like the rest of him and slightly calloused on the palm. It's familiar and comforting, and the single touch that Barry has been longing for for months. But when Barry thinks of the women who've felt it before him, who've had his lips on theirs when Barry hasn't even had his first taste yet, he can't rectify the heat bleeding up his arm with the cold in his chest.

"And that gives you permission to flirt and make-out with anyone you want?"

"I may have flirted," Len counters, pulling Barry towards him but continuing on through the living room to the bedroom, "I may have kissed … but I never made-out with anyone, Barry. What do you think? I chose those women to fool around with in the middle of a mission because I couldn't care less about you? I only did what I had to do. If you want to be pissed at someone, be pissed at Rip. He put us in those situations. He's the one that didn't exactly give us a choice."

Barry goes with Len even though he doesn't feel that Len is sorry enough. But Len is right about Rip. Barry was pissed at Rip already for lying, for putting himself, his wants, and his needs ahead of the safety of his crew, ahead of Barry's boyfriend. The Waverider team can find a way to speak highly of Rip all they want.

But Barry isn't as forgiving.

"And you couldn't think of any other way around it?"

Len has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Barry is superhero, and an honest to God tough guy besides, but tough in the way small dogs are tough. A territorial beast. Yeah, they can bite, they can even break skin, but it's hard to mind all of that considering how adorable they are. "Are you telling me that you, The Flash, protector of Central City, would have rather I beat up a woman just so I wouldn't part with one, meaningless kiss?"

"It sounded to me like more than one kiss." Len begins to undress. Barry does not object. "And definitely more than one woman."

"Yeah, but … there's only one Barry Allen," Len says, tugging up Barry's t-shirt, sliding sure fingertips over Barry's abs, outlining the smooth skin in between defined ridges.

"You're not having sex with me, Snart," Barry remarks, angrily conceding to Len pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the floor.

"I'm not trying to have sex with you" - Len buries his head into the crook of Barry's neck - "I just … I need to be close to you." Len backs Barry up to the bed and gently pushes him down on it. "Please … let me be close to you."

Barry knew from the second he heard Len's footsteps follow him out of the bar that this was where this argument was headed.

"Fine." Barry gives in with far less fire and far less venom. He toes off his sneakers while Len yanks off his boots, and climbs under the covers. Len is right – frustratingly, obnoxiously right. What he did on the Waverider was part of his job. Len and Barry are in a committed relationship, one that they worked hard for, against odds and the disapproval of friends and family members. It didn't matter what Len did in the name of protecting Earth as long as Len came home to him.

But maybe Len can remind his cohorts that Barry doesn't necessarily need to know so much about it.

Len twines himself around Barry's body, legs around legs and arms under arms until he has Barry locked in a maneuver closer to a wrestling pin than a hug. Barry tries to remain unaffected, but it gets difficult when Len snuggles into the base of his neck and starts laying a trail of sleepy kisses there.

"Goodnight, Len," Barry says, because he has to say something. He can't go to bed mad and quiet. He doesn't want Len to think he's ignoring him.

Barry may be upset, but he won't stay that way forever.

"How much longer are you going to be angry with me, Barry?" Len asks, pulling closer until the two of them nearly occupy the same dimensional space.

"What time is it now?" Barry murmurs.

Len peeks over Barry's head at the clock on the dresser. "1:15 in the morning."

Barry closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath and feels himself relax, giving in to sleep - not because it's been a long day, which it has, and not because he's exhausted, which he is. It's for the most infuriating reason of them all.

He's back in his boyfriend's arms. He hasn't slept comfortably a single night since Len's been gone. But now, even though he's miffed, he feels like he can finally get a good night's sleep. "For at least … a few more hours."