Chapter Text
Len winced as he pulled the shirt on over his head, glancing at the bruise starting to blossom over his side. Being tossed into the side of a Toyota wasn't exactly Len's idea of fun.
Stealing was, though.
He was going to freeze off the kid's foot for that. See how fast he was then. He padded into the kitchen, still muttering to himself, pouring coffee into a tall mug. The clock read eleven PM, and Len knew he would need the caffeine to stay awake for the next few hours. He headed towards the couch before pausing, turning back and dumping three spoonfuls of sugar into his drink.
Setting the coffee down, Len reached for the computer. He never went into a case without doing hours of research on everything, first. A loud slam on the door made him halt, hands mid-air.
"Ow," A muffled voice said, more sounds of movement coming from behind the door. Len pulled a hand gun out from under the couch cushion, and strode to the door, throwing it open wide.
"Barry?" He stared down at the younger man who sprawled in his doorway, long limbs tangled together in a heap.
Barry turned large glazed brown eyes up at him. "Snart!" He cried joyfully, jumping up. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here."
"Really?" Barry looked around. "You don't live in a secret hideout?"
Len tucked the gun he was holding into the band of his pants. "No. I live in an apartment. As you can see."
"Oh," Barry pouted, seeming disappointed. "I thought villains lived in lairs. Batman lives in a lair."
"Batman is a hero. Are you drunk?"
Barry brightened. "Yes! Cisco made a me magic drink!" He threw his arms up happily, swaying like a branch in the wind. Len grabbed one of his flailing arms. "Yeah, okay Kid, come on."
Leading Barry into the apartment, he kicked the door shut behind them and sat the speedster down firmly on the sofa. "Stay," He commanded. He went into the small kitchen and grabbed some Advil and a glass of water. Len had lived through enough hangovers to know the kid would need it, healing powers or not. Turning back around, he saw Barry holding his coffee and making a face.
"You put too much sugar in your coffee," He slurred slightly. "I imagined you would drink your coffee black. With the souls of the tortured or something."
Len smirked. "Good to know your sense of humor never fades. Along with my reputation." He exchanged his coffee for the water, making sure Barry had a firm hold on the glass. "Drink all of that."
Barry nodded solemnly, proceeding to drain the entire drink in five seconds. Then he sighed. "I don't like people," he told Len seriously.
"I can agree on that." He chuckled, raising the mug to take a sip.
"Except you, I like you." Barry said casually, taking off his shoe and studying it with intense concentration.
Len choked on his coffee. "Scarlet, I think you're forgetting we're enemies."
"Nooooooo," Barry dropped the shoe. "We have an a-gee-ment."
"Say the person who threw me into a car. " Len retorted. The pout from before came back, Barry looking up at him with puppy eyes.
"They were shooting at you," He whined, poking at Len's leg. "Getting shot hurts." He added helpfully.
"You're very drunk, Barry." He said, lightly pushing his poking finger away. "Isn't it against hero code to get this intoxicated?"
Barry considered. "Yes. I am. I am drunk." He studied Len intently, eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Why do you make horrible puns?"
"They are not horrible." Len defended, wondering faintly why he was arguing about this at eleven-thirty.
"Yes, they are." Barry nodded at him. "But you're funny, you make me laugh." He seemed serious, saying it without a thought. Barry flopped around on the couch, until his long legs were thrown over the back and his head hung off the end.
"Why is the world upside down?" He asked, seeming genuinely confused. Len laughed then, the sound escaping freely at the younger mans intoxicated state. Barry up-righted himself, looking at Len with serious hazel eyes, a tinge of what was almost sadness in them.
"I've never heard you laugh before," He said softly. "Actually laugh."
Len's smile faded. "Don't got much to laugh about," He got up, looking down at the Flash, who still lounged on the couch. "What am I to do with you now?" He mused.
"Stay here." Barry said, burying his face into the cushions. Len sighed, running a hand over his short hair. "You are way too drunk." He murmured.
He ended up pulling out a spare blanket and a pillow from the closet, and returned to Barry's temporary camp, handing him the pillow. The tired speedster wrapped his arms around it, yawning widely. Len threw the blanket over him, the gesture feeling too intimate, too easy.
Hovering for a moment, he said softly; "Night, Barry." Before retreating into his own room, dumping the rest of his coffee down the sink. He was tired, anyways.
As he lay in bed, he let his mind wander to the man on his sofa.
***
The next morning Barry woke up with a pounding headache in an unfamiliar room. He bolted upright, yelping as he tumbled to the floor, tangled in the blanket.
Sitting up, he blinked groggily at the piece of paper taped to the small coffee table, next to a bottle of Advil and glass of water.
Scarlet, from the looks of last night, you consumed an unhealthy amount of alcohol, leaving you in a highly intoxicated state.
Take three pills to help with the raging hangover you will most likely have.
I am out committing more criminal sins, so please let yourself out, preferably
forgetting where I live, as I don't like the kindness of my heart towards drunks
to give you an advantage. (You were quite drunk, too.) -Len
Barry stared at the note, at the neat scrawl and the quickly written signature, and wondered how sarcasm could even be transferred through writing.
"Except you, I like you."
He took three pills before neatly folding the blanket over the back of the couch, setting the pillow in it's proper place. Then he folded the note, slipping it into his wallet. A small smile worked it's way onto his lips.
Len.
Maybe enemies wasn't the right word, after all.