"Still up for becoming Mr. Allen, Captain Cold?"

Barry stared at the way his hands gripped the wooden bars of the headboard, his wrists secured in place with old neckties wrapped tight. He was on his knees, back arched, legs spread apart, left hard and hot between his thighs as he felt cool blue eyes on him from behind.

"This may be my new favorite position for you, Scarlet. Tied up. On display."

Len's voice was several feet away, between the bed and the door, watching from a distance that made Barry strain against his bonds in anticipation. He wasn't allowed to speak unless specifically asked to. That's how he'd wanted it when he described this fantasy to Len.

"You set the rules," Barry had said. "You control every. Little. Step. I want to be teased and tortured, Len, completely at your mercy."

Len had swallowed deep as he looked back at Barry, their faces close, breath on each other's lips. "You got it, kid. But I hope you know what you're in for."

Barry hadn't known, hadn't realized how much his dirty talking drove Len crazy until he was on the receiving end. It had been ten minutes since Len undressed him and tied him to the bed, left there, ordered not to turn his head, so he never knew when Len might approach or finally touch him. All Len had done was tell him what he planned to do, how gorgeous he looked, how much Len was going to make him scream, but he hadn't moved so much as an inch closer judging by the distance of his voice.

Barry throbbed. He couldn't touch himself, couldn't beg to be touched, just had to kneel in place and wait. It was sweet torture all right, but that's what he'd asked for.

"Maybe I won't touch you at all. Maybe I'll fuck you and leave you weeping. Let you stay like that all night begging to get off. Lose your mind a little. Willing to do anything I ask."

Barry moaned, squirmed. He was willing now. He knew he wouldn't deny Len anything, no matter how kinky, if he asked for it tonight, not that he expected anything cruel or harsh. Most people didn't know how gentle Leonard Snart could be, how sweet, how attentive.

This position meant Barry couldn't see Len, couldn't look at him or kiss him or even take him into his mouth if he wanted to. Barry couldn't touch him. He could only be touched, and fucked, and used…

There was something so sensual about that thought when it was accompanied by complete trust. By love. Barry didn't fear, he merely wanted. He wanted everything Len had to offer.

Finally, a rustle of cloth—Len removing his shirt. He'd been standing there this whole time fully dressed. Barry heard the dull thud of a sweater hit the floor. Heard Len's zipper being undone.

Yes, he thought, he was ready. He hadn't even been grazed with the tips of Len's fingers, but he felt so open, he doubted he'd complain if Len slid right in without a single preparatory stretch.

"I'm going to draw this out til you quiver, kid, and can't hold back the tremors. You're dripping, you know? Pooling little drops onto the sheets. That's how much you want this."

A rustle and faint clink of the zipper sounded as his jeans hit the floor. He stepped out of them, kicked them aside. Barry listened for Len to approach the bed, but the room went silent. If he was allowed to speak, all he'd be able to say was, "Please," the only fully formed thought in his head, everything else just mush and overrun sensations.

"Remember the first time we were in this room? How I licked my way inside you. Got you wet for me. Had you begging for it."

Barry moaned again, the only type of noise he was permitted. He remembered vividly. He had taken a very thorough shower before this excursion, hoping they might relive that.

"I might do that again. But I won't touch you. Not til I'm buried deep and ready to come. Then, maybe, I'll offer relief. If I'm feeling generous. Or, like I said, maybe I'll leave you there all night, lulled to sleep by you pleading to get off. Then one touch the next morning, and you'll come from sheer exhaustion. You'll have to be very, very good to earn the chance to come tonight, Barry. Can you be good for me?"

"Yes," Barry jumped at the chance to speak. "So good. Anything you want. Please."

"Shhh, now…spread those legs a little wider for me."

Barry did immediately, balancing on his knees, sore from the position, his back, his thighs, but just wanting to feel Len's hands on him, anywhere. He knew Len would make good on his promise not to touch him between the legs until the very end, maybe even tease him a bit more about leaving him there, unfulfilled all night, so he steeled himself for the torture to come.

The creak of the floor, despite Len's near silent steps, alerted Barry that he'd moved for the bed at last. Then a dip as the mattress depressed beneath Len's weight. Expectation made Barry quake, and oh, he could feel how wet he was, how much he was indeed dripping a little pool onto the sheets.

A full minute passed where Barry wanted to speak, beg, cry, but held back, never knowing when relief would come, until finally, finally he felt a cool hand at his ankle. Then another. Together they smoothed up the back of his calves and he shuddered just from that bare, simplistic touch.

"My, oh my, are you hungry for it," Len husked out, the closer proximity of his voice making Barry whimper. "They say anticipation is the best part. Maybe you don't need to tumble down over the peak, Barry. Maybe you prefer it like this…held in suspension."

A pleading whine fell from Barry's lips, louder than his moans. Len had stopped at the back of his knees.

"Do you disagree, Barry?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Hmmm…then what do you want?"

Synapses fired and misfired in his brain—he wanted too much. All he managed to say was, "Hands."

"Yes?" Len slowly slid his hands up the back of Barry's thighs.

"I w-want them…everywhere."

"Everywhere but where you really need them," Len said. "That I can provide."

His palms smoothed up Barry's ass, teasing trailing fingers on either side of his entrance but not touching there, not yet. He continued on up Barry's back, to his shoulders, down his arms, up to his tied wrists.

Barry felt Len behind him now, the heat from him, but not skin. Len's knees settled in between Barry's, but he didn't lean forward to press his chest to Barry's back, keeping his distance.

He brought his hands down again, around Barry's sides to his chest, trailing down his stomach to his hips. Barry twitched between his legs, groaned at how close Len was, louder still when Len purposely avoided even lightly grazing his erection and instead spread his hands apart to run down the front of Barry's thighs. Then up again to graze his thumbs along the seam where Barry's thighs and hips met, so close but not nearly close enough to actually touching him.

"How much do you want it, Barry?" Len asked, hands holding steady, squeezing where they gripped the crease of his thighs.

Barry rocked forward, desperate for any kind of friction. "So much. Please, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Yessss."

At last Len laid his chest on Barry's back, brought his lips to Barry's ear, licked the lobe lightly. "Too bad. You'll just have to suffer til I'm done with you."

A longer, deeper moan left Barry, and he felt a vibrating shiver run through him.

Len chuckled low, a purposely chilling sound that made Barry shiver again—a normal shiver, but with the pulse of vibrations ever lingering in the distance.

Len pulled away, removed his hands, rocked back, leaving Barry again for a solid minute without speaking or touching him. Just watching...watching... Then, without any hint or warning of movement, Barry cried out as a smooth tongue penetrated him, plunging as deep as it could in a single stroke. Barry practically sobbed at how good it felt, how he pulsed hotter and almost painfully between his legs, and his gut clenched.

"Do you like the way I feel inside you, Barry?" Len asked, and darted in his tongue again, like a long, lingering, open-mouthed kiss.

Barry wailed pitifully before he managed to stutter out, "Y-y-yes."

Again—Barry didn't know how Len could get his tongue to go so deep. "Good. Coz you're so loose and open for me, you don't even need a helping hand, do you?"

"N-No…just you. Need you…"

"Need what?"

"Your...cock."

"Be more specific, Barry." He thrust his tongue in again, short, fast movements, then longer, slow twirls that dug right into Barry and made his legs tremble.

"Need your cock...inside me, deep…so deep."

"Nothing else? You don't need anything else?"

"Only your cock, please…please fuck me."

"Sounds like you're asking to be left untouched tonight, Barry," Len chuckled. He pulled away again, hands, mouth, the heat of his body as he leaned back.

"No," Barry keened. He'd meant fingers stretching him, not... He did want to be fucked, but if Len didn't touch his cock eventually too, he'd go insane. "Please touch me. Please…"

"I don't know if you've earned it," Len said, oh so smug and taunting. Barry heard the telltale sound of a cap opening and knew Len was coating himself with lube.

He relaxed—marginally.

"You said you'd do anything. Maybe I like you in this state. Desperate. Shaking."

"I will. I will do anything, I'll still do anything."

"Then you better take it, and love it, and be as loud as you can, Barry. And maybe…maybe I'll let you come."

Barry screamed in barely contained pleasure when Len pressed to his entrance, hands firm on his hips, slick heat stretching Barry much wider than that teasing tongue. He opened for Len so readily, so easily. Len still thrust in slow, a pace Barry was used to, giving him time to adjust around every newly entered inch. Sometimes, other nights, it would be too much all at once, he'd need a break, to catch his breath before they tried again, but not this time. This time he wanted all of Len, all at once, as deep as he could go.

Len didn't disappoint. He rocked solidly into Barry, so deep Barry heard the headboard creak with how he pushed and pulled on it with the force of Len's first backstroke. So many words sprang to mind, threatening to pour out of Barry, but he had to obey, had to do as he was told, and he'd only been told to be loud.

He moaned, cried out, whimpered pathetically with every new thrust. Len didn't just jerk his hips forward, he rolled them, twisted inside of Barry, found all his angles and secret corners. Barry thrummed with power, shook, vibrated, felt the lightning in his veins sparking.

Through it all, Len never touched him, merely hung on, occasionally ran his hands up Barry's back, but never down between his legs, never there where he desperately needed it. He fucked Barry slow, deep, then faster and faster as he huffed against his skin, "Tell me you love it, Barry…"

"I…I love it."

"You love to be teased."

"I do."

"You love to be fucked and left wanting."

"Yes, it's so good…I'll do anything, anything."

"Say you love me."

"I love you…god, I love you so much, Len."

"Say you'll never…never leave me."

A pit in Barry's stomach opened, and he gasped at how it shook him, how raw and sad Len sounded suddenly. "Len…never. Never…"

"You and me, kid, forever…that's all I want."

"You have me forever…forever, Len, I promise."

And while the heat built, and Barry was going mad from it all, how good it felt with Len inside him, hitting the sweet spot again and again, even the torture of wanting to be touched and being denied, that passion fueled into something else.

The scene, the role-play, the teasing banter all fell away in the wake of something more, the deep, emotional connection there, that only two people in love could share. It wasn't just hot, it was searing, and it made Barry tremble from more than just the need to come.

"I love you…I love you…" Barry said again, riding out the build to Len's release, he could feel it coming, hear the hitch in Len's breath that he knew so well.

"Barry…fuck, kid, you're the best thing in my life." He gasped, stuttered forward, grunted as he started to come…and reached his hand around Barry's waist to grip him hard and tight and stroke with sudden fervor.

Barry screamed again, couldn't not, couldn't handle having been denied this entire time only to suddenly feel everything at once, Len still coming deep inside him, with his hands on him, and his breath shuddering as if tears were in his eyes. Barry came hard with another cry, harsh pleading whimpers, and then sobs of relief leaving him with possibly the best orgasm he could remember as he shook and shook and vibrated so hard…

The headboard snapped with a crack.

Barry and Len both froze. The whole thing came away from the main frame, the rods Barry was tied to snapping at the same time, and the bed heaved, precarious without proper support, telling of much harsher structural damage than they could see—likely built up over time from similar acts and Barry vibrating like no normal human could—and all at once the whole thing toppled with a crash as the bedframe buckled.

They panted, stilled their movements, rocking only just slightly in the aftermath, swaying, as Len's other arm snaked around Barry's chest to hug him close.

"Well…" he said, stunned at first before amusement caught up to him and he started laughing.

Barry chuckled too, couldn't help it. Eventually, they were lost in full blown laughter together, while still connected on what was left of Barry's bed.

They disentangled eventually, slowly. Len untied Barry from the now broken off bars from his headboard that were then tossed aside. They rolled onto their backs, lying amidst the mess, broken bits of bedframe all around and beneath the mattress on the floor. But for a moment it didn't matter. They laughed, reached for each other, kissed.

"That fulfill your fantasy, Scarlet?" Len asked, blue eyes twinkling, but there was moisture there, Barry could see, proof of the emotion behind it all.

Barry held Len's face. "You fulfill my fantasies every day. But yeah, that was super hot, you are unbelievably amazing, and I love you." He grinned, leaning forward to kiss Len again before the other man could laugh at him too loudly. "Now what are we going to do about this bed?"

It didn't make sense for Barry to get another one. Len's bed at his new apartment was reinforced metal, one of the pieces of furniture Barry had helped pick out, since it was something that in many ways was both of theirs—Barry slept there more often than he slept at home. And that was just the thing. Joe's place would always be home, but it had started to feel secondary to being wherever Len was.

Joe finding out about Barry's broken bed was the final push.

"Okay, I'll admit I don't want to know how you managed to wreck that bed the way you did, but Barry…I didn't mean move in with the guy!" Joe said when Barry told him. But there was a smile in Joe's voice, a certain acceptance of the whole thing that had grown over time, getting to know Len, seeing them together, how well they worked at each other's sides, how much Len loved him. "You sure about this?"

"Dad moved out weeks ago, Joe, to his own place. It's high time I had mine too. I love living here, you know I do, but…I practically live at Len's place anyway, and it's not fair the time we spend here, when it's your house and…can be kind of awkward."

Joe offered an embarrassed smile and shook his head. "No denying that."

"And I want to live with him, Joe. I want to be with Len…for the rest of my life."

Joe's expression shifted to a carefully constructed mask. "That sounds like more than just moving in together, Barry."

"Yeah..." Barry glanced aside, unable to hide his smile. He scratched the back of his neck. "About that..."

"You sure about this, Barry?" Cisco asked.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Barry said, only mildly irritated. He knew what he wanted.

"Dude, you two are disgustingly cute together, no one denies that."

"But if you're really ready for this," Iris said, glancing around mischievously at the others.

Eddie mirrored her, though he always looked more playful and sweet when he tried to look devious. "Let us help you, Barry."

"We maybe have some ideas," Caitlin said.

"Schemes, if you will," Lisa added with a proud smirk.

Even Hartley buzzed with excitement. "He'll never see it coming, Allen. Trust us."

Len checked his watch—nine minutes, fifty-seven seconds. Plenty of time to get the goods out of the museum with Mardon and Bivolo on point.

He had been surprised the two asked to work together on this one, but then it was no secret that Hartley and Shawna were often seen helping out Team ColdFlash. Weather Wizard and Rainbow Raider were the only Rogues left not living double lives—or maybe it was more like triple lives, given the cover of Saints and Sinners.

As long as the more dangerous villains, and those less likely to reform, understood that a deal was in place. Mardon wouldn't go after Barry, or the Wests, if he thought he had free reign in the city compared to lesser criminals. The Rogues were the only ones who almost always got away with their crimes. And as far as the public knew, those with Team ColdFlash were fully rehabilitated, even if they often helped with heists too.

It wasn't ideal, but it kept the truly dangerous ones—like Mardon—from going off the rails on their own. Besides, Len couldn't deny that he enjoyed an occasional heist, the chance to see if Barry could actually thwart him like the good old days. He'd wondered if Barry would even show up to this one, since he never point blank told Barry whenever he was helping out his Rogues—that would spoil the fun.

"Well, if it isn't your favorite sparring partner, Cold," Mardon said over the coms. Hartley had gotten them nicely setup for joint jobs.

"He's your partner to start, Mardon. Just like we planned in case The Flash showed up. Gotta give the public a good show. Lead him right to me. Bivolo, you get the last of those paintings and make for the exit."

The night before, Barry had practically given Len his alibi. In their apartment—their apartment; Len would never tire of that—Barry had been stirring dinner when he mentioned helping Oliver the next night in Star City.

"I won't be gone all night—it's me, I can flash home right after—but it'll probably be late. Oliver and Constantine butt heads more than you two used to. I think he wants a neutral party around."

Watching Barry at the stove like that, dressed in just a plain, white T-shirt and sweats, stirred something primal in Len. The curve of the fabric over Barry's ass, shifting with his movements. The smell of the chili, a recipe they had perfected together, a mesh of both their styles and concepts of just what made chili perfect—Barry adding curry powder, Len insisting on tomato paste instead of puree, a constant teasing argument over which beers were best for the base—was all the more perfect because it was theirs. Like the apartment now, and everything in it.

Len had slipped up behind Barry, sleeves rolled up on his slate blue sweater, hugging Barry close againat him as his hands trailed up the speedster's chest then down to the waistband of his sweatpants. "Not a problem, Scarlet. I'm sure I can keep myself occupied."

Barry giggled, leaning into him and sighing at the contact. "Mmm, you are good at keeping occupied."

Len had figured Barry would hear about the heist later that night, maybe not until morning, and laugh as he chided Len about having fun without him. This was much better. Barry must have finished in Starling early, maybe got a call from the labs and decided to escape whatever Oliver and Constantine were putting him through.

Scanning the museum from his perch on the neighboring roof, Len waited for Mardon's signal. Bivolo would exit to the south, taking the getaway vehicle parked in the alley, and book it to the nearest safe house. At the moment, Mardon exited to the north, conjuring hail to pelt at his pursuer as the familiar lightning trail of The Flash zipped out of the museum after him.

Len grinned. Now he just had to get to the museum roof before Mardon led Barry up there. He dashed excitedly to the precarious metal grating that spanned across the two buildings. Meant for maintenance, the walkway wasn't really ideal for civilian use, only the occasional need to check the breakers of each building, since they were connected on the same grid.

Len fired his gun to coat the walkway in ice, backed up several paces, then took off at a sprint, dropping down and sliding his way across at breakneck speed. He rolled to his feet with the ease of a dancer as soon as he was on the other side.

Thunder rumbled from below, while the sky above remained clear and dotted with twinkling stars. Mardon had perfected levitating himself with his powers—Len refused to say that the meta human could fly—and he carried himself up onto the roof with a whirlwind storm surrounding him. Len crouched low to keep hidden as Mardon dropped to his feet on the roof and sprinted across it where he'd eventually meet up with Bivolo in the street below.

"Like clockwork, boss," Bivolo said over the coms. "Meet you in thirty, Weather Man."

"It's Weather Wizard, Raider, get it right," Mardon laughed—they'd all come to love their Cisco-given code names.

Just as Mardon reached the other end of the roof, he jumped up onto the ledge and turned around to face The Flash, who zipped up after him, scaling the wall of the building easily, and stopped just as Len expected to square off with Mardon, keeping the span of the rooftop between them.

"Give it up, Weather Wizard!" Barry called with a wide grin, fists clenched, but pure adrenaline and joy in his voice. "You know I'm faster. You'll never make it to rendezvous with Raider. I'll have the both of you locked down in time for The Late Show."

"Not this time, Flash!" Mardon spread his arms as he lifted himself off the roof, lightning and cloud cover and howling wind accompanying his ascent.

Barry hunkered low, and Len had seconds to time his shot, something he'd refined over time, knowing every telltale sign of Barry's powers as well as he knew every dip and curve of the kid's body. Barry's lightning sparked, yellow and brilliant, to counter the white-blue of Mardon's. Len fired, coating the ground in front of Barry like a red carpet of ice, tripping the speedster over his own feet until he stumbled and slid helter-skelter toward the edge of the roof.

Mardon laughed again and gave Len a quick salute before disappearing over the side of the building to meet Bivolo. "That's what I call a dishonest night's work, friends," he said over the coms. "Gun the engines, Roy. I'm buying you a drink. You coming, boss?"

Len stalked out from behind his hiding place toward Barry's crumpled form at the edge of the roof. "Another time, boys. I have a prior engagement."

"Sure you do," Bivolo said with humor in his voice.

Len heard the purr of the getaway car's engine. He turned his coms off.

Barry hissed as he righted himself, zipping to his feet and staring down the side of the building before whipping back around when Len charged his gun at him.

"Wouldn't think about following them, Flash. I have quotas to keep."

Barry grinned, more eager than Len would have expected, even if they did enjoy their game; he must have really missed him during his trek to Star City. "I think you've fed me that line before, Cold."

"Have I? I'd stop recycling the same old lines and moves, Scarlet, if they didn't work so well on you." Len indicated the trail of ice. He kept his gun aimed, fully prepared to blast Barry if he made a move. After all, he could easily remove the effects of the cold gun now, so there was never any danger, just the thrill of the hunt.

"What if a news helicopter flies past and sees us squaring off again? What will the public think?" Barry teased him, circling slowly to move away from the ledge, careful around the patch of ice.

"That's just a risk we'll have to take. At least until my Rogues make their getaway. If anyone notices us up here, we'll just have to claim 'lover's quarrel'."

"Ha! You better hope not." Barry feinted left then flashed right. Len blasted the air in front of him rather than try and follow the kid's lightning trail. He caught an edge of Barry's suit, and forced him out of the speed force holding his frozen elbow. He vibrated it to warm up, no reverse settings on the gun required.

"Slowing down, Flash, or going easy on me?"

"Never." In seconds, Barry was on the move again, faster than Len could get another shot. He fired, but found himself staring at nothing.

He spun around. Nothing there either.

Static crackled over his earpiece. He knew it wasn't Bivolo or Mardon, since he'd already closed that channel. He didn't think Barry would have ditched him to chase the pair down either, not for something as benign as a few paintings—regardless of their impressive worth.

"Got Cisco to hack my Rogue coms, huh?" Len said, making a constant, slow circle, eyeing every corner of the roof for wherever Barry might be hiding. To avoid confusion, there were completely different coms used for Rogue business compared to Team ColdFlash.

The crackle of static evened out as Barry's voice came over the line, "Who says it wasn't Piper?"

Len laughed—that wouldn't surprise him at all.

The previous night, after chili, which had turned out flawless—even if Len insisted that a porter would serve better for the base next time—they'd spent the rest of the night draped over each other on the sofa, watching old episodes of Sliders. The kid had been too young when the show originally aired, but little by little they were expanding each other's sci-fi horizons. Len had always loved Sliders, the idea of alternate realities and new worlds, not that he bought into multiverse theory for real—possible other timelines were bad enough.

But that's all they'd done. Eat. Watch TV. Snuggle into each other's arms. Fully domesticated—at least for the night. By the time they fell into bed, they'd barely remembered to kiss each other goodnight. Yet it had felt just as fulfilling and pleasurable as their most recent erotic behavior, ever impressive as that was and looking to outdo the time before.

That was the part Len never expected about falling in love with Barry Allen, how the pleasure he got from the kid's body, his hands and lips and occasional vibrations, paled in comparison to a simple night in, just being in his company.

Len had never experienced that with anyone else, and he never wanted to.

They had domestic down, more than ever now that they shared a home. They excelled at any and all activities in the bedroom, and occasionally elsewhere too. And they had this—Cold and Flash, at odds or on the same side, still always able to surprise each other.

"Raider and Weather Wizard are getting away, Flash," Len said, still eyeing his surroundings for any sign of a flicker of yellow lightning, slowly backing toward the wall he'd hidden behind before.

"Maybe I'm more interested in you."

"That so?" Barry was close, Len knew it, could sense it, even though he'd seen nothing to tell him that for sure, and could only hear Barry's voice over the coms. "Come and get me then, Flash. I'm not so easy to sneak up on."

"Oh believe me," Len heard through his earpiece, and then from right behind his back, Barry added, "I have you right where I want you."

Len whirled around, gun ready, already whirring in preparation to fire, a mad grin on his face, but as his gaze was trained upward, expecting Barry to be at eye level, he hesitated when he found nothing. Before he could reorient himself, he realized he should be looking down…where Barry rested on one knee.

The kid's cowl was drawn back, a beautiful grin stretching the length of his handsome, boyish face, as he held up a small, navy-colored, velvet box with a gleaming silver ring inside. It was wider than a normal band, but thin and light, perfect to wrap snugly around a larger male finger. It split in the center, halving an intricately designed snowflake cutout.

Len lowered his gun, expression slackening in sheer amazement, his goggles washing out everything in a faint tinge of blue. He dragged them from his eyes to be sure he wasn't imagining this spectacle. "Barry…"

"Cisco already has plans for a gold one for me with a lightning bolt," he said, "but this one was my design. Do you like it?"

The cold gun nearly dropped the rest of the way from Len's fingers to the roof. He stared, the blood draining from his face. "How...? When?"

"Been planning for a few weeks now. Everyone helped set this up. Even Mardon and Bivolo. Lisa got me your ring size."

"Mardon and..." Len's brain could not compute this. The heist had been a ploy? "They made off with five million in stolen art."

"Yeah, well...I figured the city owed us one." He smiled even wider somehow, remaining in that position, holding the ring out to Len.

Len couldn't stop staring at it, at Barry's smile, at this impossible man, doing this impossible thing, all for him. He sucked in a breath when Barry took the ring from the box, sat the then empty box on the roof, and held his free hand out to Len.

"Leonard Snart—"

"Wait." Len held up a hand like a stop, saw the way it shook—his left hand, since his gun was in his right—and squeezed it into a fist, drawing it back to his chest. Barry's smile faltered but didn't drop, as Len scrambled to get control of his thoughts. "This is...big, kid. We've joked about it, I know, but...it hasn't even been a year." Since a building fell on his head and changed his life forever.

Len felt like the worst villain for interrupting the moment, for ruining it for Barry, but he had to speak the truth, had to voice his doubts, had to be sure Barry knew what he was asking.

The kid just smiled more sweetly. "I don't need a year. I don't think I needed that first full month. I know we just moved in together, I know this might seem fast, but I also know what I want. I'm happy with you, Len. Deliriously happy. You say you want forever, and that is all I want too."

"Because I'm selfish and I can't—" Len's voice caught, and he sucked in air so it wouldn't be too obvious that his throat was choking on something thick, making his face hot, and his vision blurry, "—can't imagine living without you. I can't…couldn't…"

"And neither could I," Barry finished for him, endlessly patient as he held the ring, and his other hand reached for Len waiting for him to take it. "So why should we?"

Len knew it was stupid to second guess himself now, after everything, after months, after those first several pitfalls where he wouldn't even let Barry in, tried to pretend they'd be better off apart. After growing so close that they were extensions of each other, on and off the battlefield. After almost losing Barry too many times, and saving each other a hundred times more, a dozen different ways.

This was different. This was something he'd never thought he'd have for himself, something he never thought he'd want this badly.

"You sure about this?" he asked, so softly, his voice came out in a breath, and he couldn't deny that his eyes were watering.

Barry's smile cracked and he chuckled lightly. "Everyone keeps asking me that. And I only have one answer." He took a deep breath, stretched out his waiting hand a little further. "Still up for becoming Mr. Allen, Captain Cold?"

Len pressed his lips together, tried to squint his eyes to keep the tears from building, from falling, because damn it, he was stronger than this, he couldn't lose his composure so easily and become some blubbering mess. But he wasn't strong. Not always. Barry made him weak, and it was the most wonderful weakness he'd ever known.

"I'd be happy my whole life, kid…never asking for anything else." Len's left hand grabbed Barry's outstretched right one and tugged him up in one strong pull onto his feet and into his body until their lips met. Len gripped Barry's hand to his chest, and kissed as firmly as he could to seal his answer.

A chorus of cheers sounded over the coms, loud enough that Len heard an echo from Barry's cowl. They laughed into each other's mouths as they broke apart.

"Who all is on the coms right now?" Len demanded.

Barry shrugged, laughter still in his voice, in his eyes. "Who all do we know?"

Len laughed with him again in utter disbelief. He tuned out the din of voices, not listening, not caring about a thing any of them said as Barry kept hold of his left hand, held it up, removed his glove and dropped it unceremoniously to the ground, then slid the snowflake ring onto his finger. Len's hand was steady as he stared at it. The ring fit like it was made for him—because it had been.

"And now…" Barry said.

Len just breathed, still numb, and amazed, and not believing this was real, as Barry pulled away from him and produced a duffle bag from seemingly out of nowhere.

"Hang on."

"Wha—"

A flutter of movement cut Len off. He knew this feeling, the lightning fast tickle of fingers and moving fabric all over his body. When he caught his breath and blinked awareness, he saw Barry zipping up his parka and cold gun into the duffle. Len now wore one of his more tailored suits, navy blue, a grey vest, a blue and grey tie to match, while Barry wore his simpler black suit, though a deep burgundy tie stood out against his white shirt.

"Did you just…?"

"Well, we do have an engagement party to get to."

"Engagement party…?" Len continued to gawk. The whole gang had been in on this, and Barry had even come prepared to dress them both for a late night party in celebration.

Finally collecting himself, smirking at the adorably smug speedster as Barry hoisted the duffle over his shoulder, Len couldn't help saying, "You didn't know if I'd say yes."

Barry shrugged. "I had an idea."

Len reached forward with both hands, just needing to touch Barry, feel his thumbs along the kid's cheekbones, his fingertips brushing into that soft hair. He kissed him, and for a moment, all the kisses before it seemed to compare themselves to the one they were sharing now—their first, in the dark, in the labs, stressed and desperate; the harsh, cruel one in the warehouse when Len had tried so hard to break Barry; a pleading press of Barry's lips after he'd saved Len, and Len had finally confessed why he'd tried so hard to push him away; so many missed ones, and interrupted ones; presses of apology and promise; the first time Len told Barry he loved him.

This kiss, now, wasn't better than any of those; one kiss never needed to be better than the next. They just needed to have Barry on the opposite end.

Len shuddered when he pulled back, still holding Barry's face. He wanted to say 'I love you', wanted to offer promises about how good he'd be to him, how happy he'd make him, how no matter what he would always be there, and they'd live out a fairytale ending. But he couldn't make all those promises, only that he'd love Barry until the end of his days.

So instead he said, "What say we skip the party and I just get you into bed?"

"Don't even think about it, Lenny," Lisa's voice chimed over the coms.

Len snapped back with a groan and ripped his earpiece out, the one part of his costume Barry had forgotten. "Mind your own business, Lise!" Len shouted into it. "And you better be pouring us some champagne right now, sis, coz I cannot promise how long I'll last before I pull my fine, young fiancé into a dark corner."

Len was fairly certain he heard Hartley hoot approval amidst the chorus of laugher that sounded before he shoved the earpiece into his pocket.

"Hey!" he cried out as Barry scooped him into his arms, full on bridal carry, which seemed more insult to injury than ever given the occasion—and damn if Len didn't love it, and how easily Barry supported him and the weight of the duffle bag over his shoulder.

"We even picked a spot close by so our suits won't ignite during the trip. Ready?" He grinned at Len so prettily, all teeth and dimples.

Len held Barry's neck with his left hand, letting it drag down just enough to catch the light on his new ring. "I really do love it, Barry. It's perfect."

"Good. And I love you…Mr. Allen."

Len laughed, just before the whirlwind took them, and Barry zipped them off the roof of the building with his lightning sparking in their wake. No, Len didn't mind the sound of that one bit.

THE END

I have accomplished everything I set out to do with this fic, every request and idea for the Epilogue, and can finally say that this is the definitive end. As I mentioned on tumblr, I'll be taking a break from fic writing and headcanons in November to focus on finishing my current novel for NaNoWriMo, but rest assured, I have much more ColdFlash to share with you when I return. I'll still be on tumblr, and trying to catch up on my reading, and will share some tidbits of my original story as I work on it.

You have all been so welcoming since the beginning, proving that this is just the nicest fandom anyone could hope to be a part of, so here's to keeping that going long into future seasons of this show. This fic has meant just so much to me, caused me to fall hopelessly in love with this pairing, more so than ever with The Flash, and to adore Captain Cold in a way I never thought possible, so truly...truly thank you all, and please, if you've enjoyed this insane ride, let me know. And please, please, please check out some of the amazing fics in this fandom, because we are growing, and more and more fantastic ficcage presents itself every day. Remember that we're all here to cheer each other on and bask in the trash together.

Happy Flash Day! And, as always...see ya next ficcie!