Len fired at the first man in his way as he cleared the pillar, effectively freezing both of his arms—and gun—into a single mass of ice. As the hired gun cried out, Len grabbed him by the front of his jacket and spun the man around, using him as a human shield and continuing out into the center of the room.

Several of the other remaining men armed with nitrogen guns turned at his entrance, thankfully hesitating when they saw one of their own, but not all of them looked; a few still glanced off into the corners of the building looking for the rest of Team ColdFlash.

And no, Len did not think Cisco's joking title for the group was at all funny.

"What are you doing, this is crazy?!" Barry's voice cried in his ear.

"Lenny!" Lisa joined in.

"Nobody goes until they're all looking, or we miss our chance," Len hissed as quietly as he could. He ignored any additional protests as he strode forward.

Mendoza had a nitrogen gun of his own, but had refrained from using it so far after seeing a few of the guns backfire and effectively make it so that his men wouldn't have hands by the end of the night. He glared at Len from the very center of the room, behind several closer guards, looking so much like his son, well-dressed and smug, only with an extra twenty years on him and a far more confident sneer.

Len needed to get the rest of the men looking his way, or this wouldn't work.

Mendoza seemed ready to tell his men to fire despite the flailing goon Len had tucked close to him as a shield, but the crime boss couldn't risk alienating his men any further when so many of them had already been taken down. "You're outnumbered," he said instead.

"I think that depends on your perspective," Len shot back then whispered into his com, "Get ready, Flash."

"Sir!" the man Len was holding shouted, apparently still focused and loyal enough to try and give a warning cry. Shit.

Len couldn't risk someone opening fire before he was ready, but now he had to act before fully reaching the position he'd been aiming for. To compensate, he threw the man forward, at the same moment swinging his gun around to fire a blast of ice at the floor beneath the man's feet, sending him careening forward right into Mendoza and his closest men like a magnificent strike down a bowling alley.

Anyone who initially thought to fire at Len hesitated as the man flew across the floor and knocked into his target with a hard topple and crash, causing everyone searching off into the wings to look center. And then shift their eyes back to Len as he broke into a run.

"Flash—" he started to call out, hoping Barry would understand that that had definitely been the signal to whisk him away, but as he saw a blur of red and yellow streaking toward him, focused on his current trajectory, Len's bad leg buckled beneath him and he fell.

The blur passed him as several shots from the nitrogen guns soared overhead. His leg stung as he struck the ground hard on his side, and while he watched in seeming slow motion as man after man was attacked from behind by gold and melting heat on their guns, enough remained to train their guns on him again and fire once more just as the blur returned.

"No!" Len called out, because he knew Barry was too focused on him to care about his own safety, and why hadn't Len thought about that before he dashed into danger? The idiot always thought of others first, and Len had been the one to tell him to come to his rescue.

In the next moment Len was back behind another pillar, and Barry was rolling off to the side away from him, gasping and hissing in pain. Len ignored his own stinging leg as he tossed his cold gun aside and scrambled over to Barry, forcing the kid onto his back. Barry hissed again and arched up off the floor, and all Len could think about was how he'd never forgive himself if Barry had a wound that wouldn't heal.

One of the nitrogen guns had grazed him across the front of his suit, turning it a cold grey that crumbled into pieces of ruined fabric as Len tore at it with his gloved hands to get it away from Barry's skin. Once he had hold of it by the unfrozen sides, he ripped it apart, destroying the zipper of the suit down to the belt and nearly up to Barry's neck.

The skin beneath looked red as if slightly frost bitten...but not frozen. The suit had protected him.

Len shuddered in relief, his hands splaying across Barry's stomach in gentle reverence. It was all too close to home, and the anger he'd felt toward Mendoza paled in comparison to the spike of panic that had shot through him when he heard Barry's gasps of pain. His hands started to shake as they rested over the unmarred skin.

"Len…I'm okay," Barry said, his gloved hands coming to rest over Len's own. Barry's hazel eyes looked somehow surprised, flustered, and adoring all at once through the mask when Len looked at him. "It just stung a little. Really, I'm fine." He smiled sweetly before narrowing his eyes in exasperation. "Are you going to listen to me next time?"

Beneath the subtle weight of Barry's hands, Len's trembles ceased, his confident resolve renewed in the face of Barry—unhurt and teasing him. "No promises, Scarlet. That plan would have worked fine if it wasn't for this damn leg."

Barry huffed. "And we both know whose fault that is."

The look they shared was warm despite the chill from the fading nitrogen between them, maybe even a little heated with Len's hands pressed to Barry's taut abs, hovering over the kid as he was, the hood of his parka dropped back, and their faces closer than they'd been in so long.

Barry's breath slowed, his hands squeezing Len's tightly as the moment shifted into something decidedly more intimate, as if they weren't both otherwise dressed in their costumes, mask, and goggles. When Barry licked his lips, Len was so sorely tempted to—

"Lenny! Flash! For fuck's sake!" Lisa's voice interrupted their quiet moment, unable to be drowned out the way the rest of the chaos had been a moment ago.

Suddenly remembering that part of the plan was for Barry to disarm the remaining guards, he shared an apologetic look with Len, and then was gone, causing Len to fall forward onto his hands and knees once what he had been bracing himself against disappeared.

Len gasped and fell back into a sitting position, finally able to check his leg. He wasn't really thrown by Barry zipping away. Working with a man who could be gone in an instant was slowly becoming almost domestically normal. Though he couldn't deny that his heart was still pounding annoyingly from the encounter.

He grimaced at his leg as he pressed his thumbs into the muscles. He'd strained it with how much he'd run around tonight, but he knew he could walk. He'd catch hell from Caitlin when they got back to the labs though. Not to mention from—

"Lenny," Lisa's voice hissed, not only through the com but from right in front of him as she appeared from around the pillar, her gold gun propped up while menace burned in her eyes.

"It was a good plan," Len defended, leaning back to create perhaps a little more distance between them considering how pissed she looked. He wondered then if it had actually worked. "Did we get them all?"

Lisa snorted, "Of course," and dropped down to a knee beside him, eyeing him with that perfected expression of annoyance and concern she'd mastered over the years for his sake. "Everyone remaining was either golded or had their guns melted, and while Mendoza took off running, I'm sure your boy, The Flash, has him by now."

"What? It's…it's taken care of," Barry sputtered over the com, no doubt blushing furiously at being called Len's 'boy'. Len shot Lisa a glare that she matched with gusto, and then Barry's voice came over the line again. "That's all of them. Can the rest of you keep things guarded while I call in Joe and Eddie and get Len back to the labs?"

"What for?" Len said with a scowl, even if Barry couldn't currently see him. "I'm fine. I'll do my part. I don't care if I'm limping the whole way, I can make it back on my own. Only way this damn thing will ever heal." He begrudgingly accepted Lisa's hand when she stood and offered it down to him. He could walk. It didn't even hurt when he put pressure on it. "Just means we need to step up our game, right, Doc?" he called over the com to Caitlin.

"Well I'm certainly not going to be going easy on you," she answered without missing a beat. Caitlin could have a coldness about her too, and reminded Len of Lisa when she was particularly upset with him. Her voice softened somewhat as she said, "But you better let Barry bring you back here, Len. It's probably just from overuse, not ready for a mission like this yet—which I warned you about—but I should still check it out."

"I'm fine," Len insisted. He scooped up his cold gun and was only limping slightly, almost back to his normal imperceptibly tilted gait, as they moved around the pillar to join the others.

Firestorm and Heat Wave stood like a wall of dangerous possibilities amidst the men they'd taken down, daring any of them to try something, while the ones with frozen, burnt, or gold-covered hands cowered and whimpered over their wounds.

Barry came out from behind a pillar on the other side of the building half dragging Mendoza by the scruff of his suit coat. The man looked startled more than angry, like he'd only just realized he'd been taken down by The Flash.

"What gives, Snart, you traitor!" he growled when Barry pushed him to the floor to join the rest of his defeated goons. Mendoza looked up at Len like he was disgusted. "You a snitch now, too, besides a cold-blooded killer?"

Len did everything he could to hide his limp as he approached the man, cold gun satisfyingly heavy at his side. He couldn't deny that part of him wanted to raise the gun and fire it right in Mendoza's face, but when his eyes drifted to Barry, that controlled fury dissipated. Even if Len had wanted to try and scoff in the face of the truce he had with Team Flash, the desire to kill just wasn't there anymore, and if he tried to push for it, he'd only end up shaking.

"What can I say? I realized I was in the wrong line of work," Len smirked at the bested crime boss. Then basked in the smile Barry threw his way as he looked back over at him.

Lisa came up and elbowed Len in the side. Len elbowed her right back.

As the dust from the battle settled, Barry called in their favorite detectives from the CCPD to claim the collar. Mick, Ronnie, and Lisa would linger to wait for the hand off. Len would have been fine to do the same, and as Barry turned toward him with purpose, he nearly dissented again, thinking up all the excuses for why he didn't need to be coddled, and certainly not carried back to S.T.A.R. Labs.

But in the end, he chose not to fight, and tucked his cold gun into his parka as Barry approached. The state of the kid's suit might have had something to do with it. It was hard not to feel overheated in the parka that was usually so comfortable for him when Barry looked like that—the toned muscles of his bare chest on display with the way the suit had been destroyed and further torn open. It would have been a desirable sight on any occasion, but with the rest of the suit in place, the mask still covering his eyes, the whole picture seemed deliciously indecent.

Len shifted in place. Before now, any time Barry had flashed him away somewhere, it had happened so quickly, Len hadn't been able to give much thought to when or how Barry carried him. But now that they were on the same side, Barry approached him slowly to make sure he was prepared before being hoisted up into a bridal carry that Len had only recently realized was how Barry always carried people when he flashed them off somewhere, it just usually happened too fast for the person to notice.

He'd actually asked Barry about that, and Barry had stammered and rubbed his neck. "Well, how else am I supposed to do it? I have to have a good grip or I'd drop you." It amused Len to no end that Barry had carried him that way even the first time he zipped him off out of Central City.

So now Barry sauntered over to him with a wide smile and scooped Len into his arms like it was nothing out of the ordinary, even though it made Len's breath catch. It reminded him of that first day without his memories when Barry had flashed him to the sofa and he'd lamented how quickly it was over.

Ignoring the snickers he heard over the com from Lisa, Len steadied himself with one hand clasping Barry's neck and the other pressed to the already healing skin of his chest. It wasn't even all that reddened anymore.

"Ready?" Barry asked.

"Just hurry it up, kid."

Barry chuckled, and then took off at lightning speed.

It never ceased to amaze Len that he could be in one location one second, and an entirely different location only a few seconds later. He felt no nausea from the trip, just a thrilling tug in his gut, the rush of air around them, and then they were at S.T.A.R. Labs.

"Cisco isn't going to be too happy about this," Len said, patting Barry's chest once before pulling away as he was gingerly set on his feet.

"About what?" Cisco's voice drifted over to them with a ready challenge, because of course he and Caitlin were right there. Oops.

Len turned to face the main area of the labs just as the pair approached them, Cisco's eyes going wide as they landed on the ruins of the Flash suit. Barry tugged his mask back with a grimace of shame, leaving him looking ridiculously half-dressed since he was exposed all the way down to his belt.

"What did you do?" Cisco balked, hands immediately all over Barry as he inspected the frayed off edges of the suit that had fallen away like ashes.

"I took a slight hit from one of the nitrogen guns," Barry said, because while the others had physically seen the damage, nothing any of them had said over the com had indicated what exactly had gone down to Cisco and Caitlin. "I'm lucky it only froze off part of the suit."

They fell into an only vaguely heated argument about Barry being more careful , and how many suits was he even going to go through each week, but before things could turn in the direction of it all having been Len's fault, Len turned to Caitlin.

"I'm fine," he said, shuffling past her with as little of a limp as he could manage, disrobing as he went of his parka, goggles, and gloves, which he set on a table he passed with a clank of the cold gun tucked within, before hopping up onto the hospital bed. He made a point not to lie down, but sat on it sideways as he began undoing his boots.

"But it buckled during the fight?" Caitlin asked with a raised eyebrow, glancing at some notes she was looking over on the tablet in her arms, completely unfazed by Len now—and when the hell had that happened? Having gone from a rather terrifying villain to an only slightly infuriating team member? Len couldn't even bother himself to mind.

"It did," he said plainly, letting his left boot drop to the floor, while leaving the right in place.

Caitlin set her tablet aside and went straight to work, rolling up his pants leg to inspect it. The skin wasn't discolored anymore, and he rarely took any pain meds for it, but it still occasionally tripped him up—literally.

She massaged the muscles much as he had back in the building, watching his reactions for any obvious wincing as she went. He twitched over a slightly aggravated spot on his calf, but Caitlin looked satisfied.

"We're still working on your leg catching up with the proteins it needs to regrow muscle mass and support you again," she said matter-of-factly as she reached to reclaim the tablet. "There was a good amount of damage done, remember? Lighter, regular activity is the best way to overcome that. But you're supposed to avoid any sudden stops and starts that add extra strain."

"I had to dart out of harm's way, Doc. No helping that," Len said.

"You mean aside from not diving into danger without warning me first?" Barry said as he escaped Cisco's tirade, who had seemingly taken the top half of the Flash suit away because he was stomping out of the room now, leaving Barry topless and swaggering Len's way.

"I did warn you," Len countered.

"As you're doing it doesn't count."

"And here I thought I was partnered with the fastest man alive."

Caitlin snorted at their banter before turning to head into the other room. "I have some medication for you to take tonight, Len, so we can have a fresh start on therapy in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am," Len called after her. Then he and Barry were alone—Barry bare-chested and Len with one sock-clad foot.

Barry had that insufferably adorable grin on his face as he came up to the hospital bed. "Seriously though," he said, even though he seemed more amused than serious, "don't be so eager to get hurt again. Saving your life once was chore enough."

Len took a deep breath as Barry crowded in on him from the right; if he'd gone at the bed straight on, Len would have had to spread his legs to accommodate the proximity. Did this kid have any idea what he did to him, smelling like sweat and—Len didn't care what the suit was actually made of—leather.

"I figured someone had to balance out how much you throw yourself into danger without thinking first." Len raised an eyebrow at him with a sideways glance.

Barry shook his head, but his smile never wavered. He planted one hand on the bed and leaned in closer to Len, eyes dancing with mischief, and shit, Len had no idea defying death got the kid so wound up, because he was not usually this bold. The last time Len witnessed him bold was when he had Barry tucked between his thighs.

And oh, that was a nice image to remember, he thought, as he stared at Barry's slightly parted lips.

"So if I promise to be less leap-before-I-look…you will too?" Barry spoke softly into the very short distance between them.

"Maybe..."

That heady leather smell wafted up around Len as Barry leaned the smallest bit closer—so much for blushing over being called Len's 'boy'. "Anything I can do to convince you?"

"Barry…"

"Okay, another suit is being whipped up—"

"You're going to want to take two of these tonight—"

Cisco and Caitlin overlapped each other as they reentered at the same time.

An extra foot separated Barry from Len in half a second as if they'd never been that tellingly close, and neither of the others seemed aware. The slightly tighter fit of Len's pants was certainly aware. But uncertainty mixed with his longing as he looked at the kid, and he caught Barry's frown in reply.

Still, Barry renewed his smile hopefully, ever the optimist. "You're coming by the labs tomorrow, right?

It was Saturday tomorrow, so not only did Len have more vigorous physical therapy planned with Caitlin—which would probably be even more vigorous now—but he had also promised to spar with Barry, teach him a few things about improving his fighting style rather than relying so heavily on speed.

"Sure, kid. Wouldn't miss it."

Barry nodded with an expectant gleam in his eyes, and moved away as Cisco vied for his attention again.

Caitlin came around the other side of the bed with a bottle of pills, listing off instructions. Len tried to pay attention, he really did, but Barry kept stealing glanced at him. "And I'll expect you two to be careful tomorrow. Don't go at each other too hard," Caitlin said. She flushed brightly as soon as the words left her, and Len couldn't resist raising an eyebrow her direction, much as he was relieved Barry and Cisco hadn't overheard. "When you spar…I mean."

"Understood," Len said, resisting further comment as he hopped down from the table.

Caitlin took hold of his arm to keep his attention before he could reach for his lost boot. "And after you change, I want to hear how the night...went, okay?"

Len looked up to meet her warm, encouraging brown eyes, and offered a tired smile. He knew he couldn't refuse her attempts at making sure his head was healing with the rest of him. But it wasn't his head he was conflicted about. He nodded.

Three weeks gone and he still couldn't see himself as deserving of that endearing fool across the room. Len was destined to screw this up, he'd warned Barry as much. Things were good between them right now, really good. Len didn't know how to push things further without ruining that, and feared the whole thing would start to unravel if he even dared try. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting Barry again…

So he hurried off to change while Barry was still engrossed in conversation with Cisco, unable to follow. If the kid looked longingly after him, it was better that Len couldn't see it. And well…if he kept warm at night thinking of Barry's vibrating touch…he was only human.

Barry groaned as he threw open his bedroom door and collapsed right on top of the bed, clothes and all.

"Night, Barr," Joe called in humorously on his way to his own bedroom for the night.

Barry mumbled an incoherent reply. It had been a long few weeks, and a long night. He was looking forward to sleeping in, though he still planned to be at S.T.A.R. Labs at a decent hour in the morning to spar with Len after his physical therapy.

Barry groaned again as he rolled onto his back. He didn't often get that sore from fighting or using his powers; his body's natural ability to regenerate sort of made him like, in Cisco's words, the energizer bunny. But when he was tired and actually slumped into bed, he slept hard. Sometimes he thought his body needed deep sleep as much as it needed exorbitant amounts of food, which was probably true, and he really needed to work on getting more sleep when he could.

He glanced at his currently open door. Maybe in a bit.

At Flash speed, he zipped to the door, closed it, locked it, and turned back to face the room. As exhausted as he was, he was still heightened from the fight, from the close call, from the way Len's hands had spread over his stomach with worry and eventually with reprieve. Carrying Len close, even though it took only moments, was something Barry had savored while he held him, Len's hands at his neck and chest, the cologne he wore permeating faintly from out of the parka.

Barry had been practically buzzing by the time they made it back to the labs, regardless of his initial panic and anger at Len for doing something so foolish. But then who was he kidding—he probably would have done something similar. And sure, Lisa's complete and utter lack of tact had made his ears go red with her comments, but he didn't care. He had no problem with the idea of being Len's, he just worried Len wasn't on that same page anymore.

Barry kept his light on—he preferred being able to see clearly—as he crossed to his nightstand and took out the lube he kept hidden in the drawer. He didn't have toys, really, aside from a few novelty gag gifts he'd never had the guts to try, but he preferred the silky feel of lube to lotion.

He was anxious, and considered flashing out of his clothes, but no. He needed to take his time. He wanted to stretch this out, really enjoy himself to wind down before bed.

It had been…fun, working with Len and the others tonight, all of them a single team. Sure, Barry hadn't been a fan of Len adlibbing the plan like that, but seeing how worried Len had acted over even the mere thought of Barry being hurt was beyond flattering. It gave Barry hope that his efforts weren't entirely in vain. Len wanted him too, he had to. He'd said as much three weeks ago, just that they should wait, let things ease into normal and a sense of actual trust first.

Barry hadn't been patient then, and he was no more patient now. Every time he looked at Len, he thought of their night together and how much he wanted to revisit it, and replace the finale of broken dreams and coffee tables with something better. But every time he tried to initiative even a close brush of skin or stolen kiss, Len pulled away from him. It was maddening.

But Len was still Len, with a little of Captain Cold mixed in, and sometimes he could be so sweet…that Barry wanted to find the threshold where sweet turned a little rough. Not cruel or overpowering the way Len had been in that now long ago warehouse, kissing him to hurt him, but rough with passionate purpose, and still a tinge of sweetness at the edges.

That sort of described Len in a nutshell to Barry, and now that he was his whole self, all sides of him combined, Barry wanted to know how different things would be the next time Len touched him.

So he imagined it was Len's hands pulling his shirt from his shoulders, sliding the jeans down his hips, and…Barry hesitated at his boxer briefs and decided to keep them on for now.

His shades were closed, his door locked, Joe far down the hall and forgotten, as Barry climbed onto his bed, atop the covers, and laid back. It was Len's hands he imagined running down his chest, over the recently pink skin from a near brush with bitter, dangerous cold. Tonight Len's hands had been gloved, but Barry still remembered what they felt like bare. It was so easy to conjure, and he closed his eyes as he pictured Len atop him.

Going slow was always a challenge, especially when Barry knew he could get himself off in moments and recoup the loss almost as quickly to go again. He'd tested how many times he could do that…well, more than once, but that wasn't what he wanted tonight. He wanted to be tortured a little, teased, and made to wait. It was easier to do that when he imagined it was Len's hands sliding down over the already firm bulge beneath his underwear.

Barry's breaths picked up instantly, picturing Len's face, his smile and equally charming smirk, his pale blue eyes and perfect features. The way his voice would be husky about now as he palmed Barry through the fabric and told him just what he was going to do to him.

A whimper left Barry's throat, quiet, as loud as he dared when he didn't have a place of his own. He slipped his hand beneath the elastic, already eager, teasing, dancing around his heated skin, not yet searching for the wetness at his tip, but feeling the way it budded and pooled and started to dribble down.

He gasped when he finally swiped his hand through it and coated his length, heightened by the wetness but wanting more. While he wanted to keep the friction going, he forced himself to stop, pause, and slide his underwear down his legs finally, kicking them to the floor. He reached for the lube, popping open the cap and pouring a liberal amount slowly down his shaft and over his balls down toward his entrance.

He fumbled to set the bottle back on the nightstand, closed his eyes again, and it was Len's hand sliding through the slick mess and gripping tightly as he stroked Barry. Len's thumb that passed over his slit and ran down the base. Len's fingers that slipped down between his legs while the other hand came up to take its place.

Barry switched to stroking with his left hand as the right, coated in lube dripping down to stain his comforter, pressed a finger to his entrance and slid in smoothly, twirling with gentle motion. Barry's fingers were more slender than Len's, but it didn't matter—this memory he had catalogued perfectly.

"Yeah...yeah…" Barry moaned.

"You like that?" Len whispered huskily, eyes dark and dancing.

Barry nodded along to the memory, biting his lip as he had that night, already wanting more just as he'd pleaded for then. He slipped in another finger, so open at the thought of Len touching him, his left hand keeping a languid pace, but it was starting to vibrate, which made it very difficult to keep quiet.

But Barry wasn't done yet. While it wasn't something Len could do for him, he imagined what it might be like to offer this to the other man in turn, as he willed the fingers inside of him to vibrate with the rest.

A moan choked out of him and he snapped his jaw shut. "Fuck…" he huffed a strained whisper through gritted teeth, "Len…"

Because for all Barry's new tricks, and how good this felt, one hand flying over his cock as the other thrust deep inside him, he wanted the touch to be someone else's, not his own. He wanted it to be Len.

Faster and faster his hands moved, until he was biting his lip hard enough to nearly break the skin or risk crying out. When he came it was with an all over quiver that vibrated the speed force down to his toes.

He laid there, hot and sticky and thrumming with endorphins, his barely dwindled cock always ready to perk back up and go again, which at times could be annoying, and other times highly addictive. Tonight it was enough, because he imagined Len kissing his temple, and murmuring affections into his ear, and staying—just staying, all night and into the morning right beside him.

That thought always brought a sour feeling to Barry's stomach, and because he knew he would probably fall asleep only too easily after the night he'd had, he forced himself to flash his body clean, wiped himself down, and shimmied into sleep pants before crawling under the covers, the light turned off to leave the room in peaceful darkness.

For one brief moment as he lay there he felt the sting of rejection looming, that maybe Len was only being kind three weeks ago, and didn't really want anything more between them than what they had and had already shared.

It was an awful, fleeting thought, wondering why the people he wished wanted him never did, before he buried his nose in the scent of sex amidst his bedding and succumbed to a much needed sleep.

TBC...