The scarlet blur was all too familiar.
He couldn’t lie----Len felt something other than annoyance at the sight of the vibrant red whizzing by. He had long since traveled past the stage of convincing himself that he was not remotely gratified by the random visits of Central City’s very own superhero every now and then. The first time the kid had shown up at his ‘crime’ scene, Len had only considered him a pest, trying to monitor if he abided by the petty deal that they had established between themselves. Barry Allen would cast some cheeky comments at his face or throw him off guard by freely invading his personal space using his goddamn speed…just to mess around. But the more it happened, the shorter the duration got, and over the course of time, even the frequency of the stay lessened visibly. Before he knew it, Len was bitterly feeling the lack and found himself involuntarily checking his surroundings for anything resembling a flicker of crimson prior to fleeing from the site.
That was why his heart rate climbed noticeably when a lightning came into his sight. Yes, it was the same slender boy in that silly red skintight outfit casually leaning against a lone streetlight in the dead of night. How long had it been since the last encounter? Seven, eight days? Len hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing Barry until now. He nearly dropped the suitcase stuffed with the spoils of war won from the fierce battle with the mighty ATM out of joy that took so much effort for him to hide. To be honest, this ‘robbery’ was more of an accident that kind of just happened on a whim on his part. It wasn’t any more than a stroll in the wee hours for him in which even the Cold Gun or his signature goggles served no purpose other than getting him into the spirit. Which was one of the reasons why he hadn’t anticipated the speedster to spare his precious time for this insignificant visit. Not that he was complaining.
“Leonard Snart, robber of ATM’s,” Barry remarked, tittering. Len shrugged nonchalantly.
“Nice to see you, too, Barry,” said Len dryly.
“Oh, you bet.”
“So,” Len started, taking a step down the stairs, “what kept you so busy? Lost interest in the worn out toy?” He was hoping he sounded indifferent enough like he was asking about the weather or anything like that kind of shit. Luckily, Barry didn’t seem to have caught on the accusing undertone in the question. Or did he?
“Well, you know I’ve got a handful of crimes to deal with day and night. As much as I fancy stalking you, you’ve got to understand the life of a CSI and a superhero is pretty tight.” Sometimes, the amount of arrogance in the kid’s words was astonishing. Len figured that Barry probably didn’t speak to his friends and family in this manner often, if not never.
“Then should I be obliged you kindly dropped by for a hello?” said Len, mockingly.
“Exactly,” Barry chuckled. “But I promise it’ll be longer than a hello.”
Len’s spirit was lifted automatically at the speedster’s word. He fixed his gaze on Barry as the boy made his way toward him. Even though he was stepping out of the domain of amber illumination of the streetlamp, Barry’s facial features were becoming more and more distinct as their distance closed. Len appreciated the fact that there was no mask covering half of his ravishing visage----considering there was no need for the traditional identity concealing given that they know each other very well----and that what little glow there was was creating an effect somewhat reminding him of a halo. He took the time to study Barry’s eyes almost shimmering amidst the dark, failing to make out the precise color they wore like he always did (despite the fact that his goggles probably tampered with his ability to name hues this time). The undefinable shade that sometimes looked like green and other times hazel or even blue just about summed up its owner’s character; inscrutable. Barry left Len baffled most of the time and he seemed to enjoy it.
“Your eyes are gonna shoot flames out of those goggles.” Of course, Barry clearly understood the meaning of the steady stare. Len didn’t bother to break the eye contact, though.
“Didn’t know you had clairvoyance, too.”
“I don’t need superpowers to notice some things, Len,” smiled Barry. That cunning kid.
“You’re getting comfortable with going by ‘Len’,” he pointed out, aiming at Barry with his gun without intending to. He managed to hold back too much delight from showing.
“I don’t know. I thought ‘Snart’ or ‘Cold’ sounded too…distant now that we’re----.”
Len’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Barry zapped in front of him without a warning. He held his breath startled, but moved not an inch.
“So close,” the speedster finished his sentence in a toned-down voice.
A momentary silence filled the air as they both bored into each other’s eyes with fervor unprecedented. The intense fire of scarlet dancing in the boy’s pupils was drawing Len even closer to him, who was some mere several inches away. Len could feel the kid’s soft breath brushing his face and did it bring a change in the speed of the blood pumping through his veins. He could not help but notice how long and attractive Barry’s eyelashes were; they added to the depth of the color in his eyes and made them look even more unfathomable of a minute galaxy than they already were. Len cursed in his mind admitting to himself that he was hopelessly smitten with this hardly modest, so-called hero of Central City. It was as if he was completely enraptured by something about Barry, and along with this realization, an icy flame of desire was set ablaze in his heart.
“Oh, I love your cold,” Barry whispered. The husky yet dulcet melody slithered into Len’s ears, vibrating his eardrums into a blissful fantasy. Did he just say he loved his cold?
That one comment raised his eagerness to a whole new level. Len almost didn’t hear himself when he whispered back, “I can do hot, too.” He unconsciously fixed his eyes on Barry’s slightly parted lips as the speedster dared to move even closer to him. They were basically a second away from meeting lips, breaths quivery and faint like this moment would suddenly crumble if not dealt with as though walking on thin ice. Len gently dropped the stupid suitcase in his left hand and made a subtle move to rest it on Barry’s hips to continue on with this spellbinding scene. However, leaving only an afterimage of a mischievous grin behind, the speedster vanished from his grasp before his hand even made contact with him.
Len was forced out of the trance as he looked behind to see Barry with his very own goggles on. The boy had his arms crossed while leaning against the wall of the bank that he had just silently robbed a few minutes ago. Len felt so fucking sorry for the chance that was ripped from his hands, watching that playful smile that Barry wore. Never in his life had he wished he could punch and kiss such a smug face at the same time. He forced a smirk on his mouth but clenched his fingers around the trigger of his Cold Gun. The damn kid knows how to play around with a hungry criminal.
“I’m sure you can, but you’ll have to do better, Len.”
Len was speechless. So much for Captain Cold’s hotness.
“By the way, I think your goggles are pretty cute,” Barry remarked, before a trail of vivid red planted a short-lived gleam in the robber’s pupils. Just as the way he arrived, he was gone in a blink of an eye. The gust of wind slapped Len in the face, barely allowing him to register what the hell had just happened. Bluntly speaking, Barry had flirted with him every time he decided to tag along Len’s heists but they were mostly words, words, words. The intimacy itself had never gotten as overwhelming as it had today. The thought of the almost-kiss irritated him once again; maybe he should not have taken the time too slowly because time with the freaking Flash was never a leisurely one. Now he was going to sleep fitfully through the night thinking over and over about what he should have done and what he shouldn’t have. Plus, about how fatally alluring that fucking speedster was.
Len let out his frustration by blasting his Cold Gun at the wall Barry had been reclining against. He had taken care of the surveillance camera earlier, but now the devastated wall covered in layers of ice was going to give away who had broken in. But as of now, that was the least of his concerns. He didn’t give a shit about revealing his notorious title or conducts anyway. Although the history of robbing this frail little building and an ATM was probably going to impair his flamboyant reputation.
Sighing, Len tore his gaze from the path on which Barry had run off. He shook his head and picked up his suitcase from the ground. The chilly air of early winter felt hollow as hell. Even the streetlight was starting to fail and aggravate the lack Len was feeling. He took a look at the Cold Gun in his hand and bit his lower lip, contemplating what his next move should be. Now that the flame had been set afire in himself, Len knew there was no other way to extinguish it but to use a proper method.
He needed Barry so bad.