What Lovers Do

Out the Gate

   He didn’t realize that he’d hit the ground until he felt a sharp pang blemishing his knees. Even the pain felt distant and distorted in the current world swiveling and twisting around him, beneath him. Barry wondered if this was what it would feel like if his semicircular canals were to be compromised, but on second thought, his entire head had to be fucked up to have him see and feel things this way and honestly, this was one of the worst metahuman abilities he had come across. Barry knew it wasn’t the earth going nuts, but him. Only a few seconds passed and the overwhelming dizziness was already prodding the superb meal he had not long ago which now felt not so superb. He struggled with all his might to stay sane.

   Whatever had happened between Len and the next level Bonnie & Clyde, the valley of enmity separating them was doubtlessly deep as hell. Not even metaphorically. Out of the corner of his eye, Barry caught a glimpse of the very man who had unintentionally whisked him into this agitating situation standing (how the hell was he still on his feet??), but even that image warped into something incomprehensible by sensible human eyes as soon as it fell into his retina. So it appeared that Len didn’t bring along his stupid supergun. Barry couldn’t possibly use his speed if he wanted to. Of course, he wasn’t granted one damn perfect day.

   Barry was rolling on the ground, trying his best not to end up being sprawled when a rough hand gripped the back of his shirt collar and yanked him. The sudden movement threw him off guard. Barry gasped surprised and reached for the hand dragging him but his attempts were totally futile; his confused hands were clawing at the air. Scudder or whatever his evil name was certainly did not invest in ensuring Barry’s comfort. He was scraped against the asphalt a few more feet before being shoved back down. The back of his head smacked on the ground and it hurt like hell was throwing a fucking party inside his skull. Barry made a mental note to punch the crap out of Scudder’s face as soon as he saw the chance. That is, if he had a chance. Right now things were not looking so auspicious. The woman said herself that Barry was going to be murdered anyway.

   “So, ’s this your new pet, Snart?” Scudder bellowed, probably pointing at Barry. Barry was not sure if Len could even see where this bastard was pointing, but he decided all the same to muster all his strength to lunge at the man from his absurd position.

   However, Scudder grabbed his wrist before Barry could reach him. The grip was so tight he let a little cry of pain leave his mouth. “Ooh, look, he bites,” Scudder snickered. “Some dangerous pup you got here.”

   “Let go!” Barry yelled as he tried to free himself from the grasp. He heard the woman giggling by his side (or was it?) as if she found any of this amusing.

   “Let him go, Scudder,” Len growled from a distance. His voice was almost like a rumble, Barry noticed, like a distant roll of thunder before a storm, and nothing like what he’d heard from Len’s Captain Cold persona. It was a tone lower, far more menacing, and controlled yet on the verge of not. Len was dead serious.

   Scudder scoffed like he wasn’t intimidated in the least, but eventually unclasped his fingers from Barry’s wrist. The white finger marks on his skin slowly flushed red. Dropping to the ground, it immediately occurred to Barry that Len’s cold fury radiating off him had an effect on this guy. And that fury had surfaced because of him. Len was angry for him. Even when he was barely managing to stand on two feet. It was not the best time to savor that thought romantically but Barry could not stop a butterfly from wildly flailing about in his stomach. Digest it, he thought.