What Lovers Do

Lucky Or Not

   The cyan frost was all too familiar.

   Following the trace of hoarfrost in his apartment corridor, Barry wasn’t surprised to find his metal door completely sealed in blankets of impenetrable ice. He let out a small laughter when he noticed a piece of paper fossilized inside it, matching his eye level. Then he reached inside by phasing through the solid sheets and grabbed the damp paper. Thanks, because additional cold was so necessary this winter, Barry thought to himself. He unhappily watched his breaths mingling and changing into visible mist in front of him before scrutinizing the neat, sophisticated handwriting of the man who had left this message.

   “Need those goggles back. Jitters 10 PM,” he quietly read to himself. “Jitters? Len?” For some reason, imagining Len ensconcing himself on a couch and slurping some hot mocha at Jitters was an odd experience. Well, Barry had never met the ‘civilian’ Leonard Snart yet. He only knew the Captain Cold version of him, and he guessed Len knew only the Flash Barry Allen, too, despite how frisky they had gotten with each other of late.

   Barry carefully folded the note and placed it inside his pocket. He checked the time; 7:32 p.m. He still had hours before meeting Len. Maybe he could spend the time wisely by first stuffing his famished speedster stomach screaming for food and washing off the nerdy CSI air about him by taking a shower. Barry rested his hand on the sweating ice and vibrated it, causing it to be pulverized and crumbled down at his feet. He frowned, knowing that a large puddle would have been formed by the time he steps out the door again. He tugged at the stiffened handle of his door nonetheless and slipped inside his nest.

 

~~~~~

 

9:48 p.m.

   Splash!

   “Shit,” Barry cursed. He had forgotten about the pool of molten ice at his doorstep. Soggy socks were the last thing he could ask for this winter, so he zipped back in to find himself another pair and dry shoes. Better. Skipping over the despicable puddle, Barry did not forget to slam his door shut.

   He had to walk (or run) in his normal pace if he did not want to risk getting caught on the CCTV----either running at an incomprehensible speed or vanishing from sight anyways----, and that meant he was probably late for this appointment with his supposed nemesis. Barry got carried away deciding what to wear, what to do with his hair, and even what to say. After spending over an hour at his bedside catwalk and the bathroom, he came to the conclusion that being himself was for the best. But he did put on that one cologne Iris had bought for him on Thanksgiving. It was the only one he had, and he thought he would save it for a special occasion. This was definitely a special occasion.

   Jitters was just a block ahead now. Barry still couldn’t picture Len sitting there without any intention to rob that place, but frankly, he was looking forward to this session. I mean, how could this whole thing be merely about ‘returning the goggles’? By all means, Barry could sense that the goggles were just a cute excuse that Len came up with to see Barry. But him taking it in the first place was also part of the game of chase he was willing to initiate. A taste for criminals…or a perilous tug-of-war; it was something Barry had never known to be his kind of thing. But what now? He was thrilled and definitely game for it.

   The pleasant warm air stirring in the café embraced him when he walked through the door. Even though it was half an hour before closing time, Jitters was still crowded with people. Because it’s Friday night, Barry thought.