Chapter Text
I want to fill that supple mouth with my cock, bite those lips in passion, tear the man apart, bury him deep into the ground only to see an angel rise. Up, up, up it goes. High in the nights sky, the wind beating through the stagnant odor of its formal vessel that sits stinking in deterioration. Leave me on this soiled ground, until the day you decide to fall. We'll make this right, the moment you are once again in my arms.
It has been Thirty six seconds since the fire from Mick's gun licked the air as the man had attempted to burn the Flash to ash. Eight seconds since Len shivered fearfully at the residual echo of Mick's rough holler for cover being cut off abruptly. Len's finger had been ready to pull the trigger of the cold gun. Three seconds since he came face to face with one pissed off Flash who stood stiffly several meters away in the darkness of the alley.
Mick was out for the count, his body laying limp on the rough concrete covered by deep shadows. He had been knocked out in the flash of a moment. Literally. The Scarlet Speedster had caught them off guard as he sped into the scene of their latest heist. Len had no idea where Lisa had gone, as she decided to split in a different direction with their hard earned spoils. Perhaps she could slip by the Flash. Unless he had dealt with her first.
He on the other hand was absolutely fucked.
'What the hell are you doing, Cold?'
Good question kid.
Mick and Lisa had persuaded him to pilfer the Claude Monet painting being displayed at the Central City museum. 'The Magpie' was the prize, along with the instant notoriety they would gain from a successful heist. The moment Len saw it in person while casing the museum, he knew with certainty that it had to be displayed in his home.
The painting was comforting, and reminded him of a weekend both Lisa and he had spent with their Grandfather. He could still hear Lisa's laughter as they learned how to skate on the ice of the pond right next to the house. He can still feel how pride radiated through his chest as his sister learned how to slide across the ice fluidly, her body in surprising synchronization as she circled around him in glee. To see his sister at such peace made him wish for that welcoming time just one more time, and this painting embodied a similar landscape, a similar feeling of those short few days.
Its winter landscape vibrantly painted with dreamy grays and whites, the worlds shadows extending like reaching fingers towards the viewer. Occupied within the snow littered landscape lays a solitary home partially hidden by trees and a shabby fence. A lone Magpie rests on the gate separating the viewer from the winter world beyond.
It is stunning.
The Flash frowns as he await a response, the other mans body thrumming with energy. A smirk curls Len’s lips, but he feels his stomach roil in sickness as he stands his ground. The cold gun pointed threateningly at the speedster. It is his only line of defense.
'I'm doing what I always do, what I do best. Stealing. I thought you would have caught on by now, Scarlet.’
The security had been tight, but he had spent weeks casing the building, and laboring through the blueprints that Mick had slapped onto his tinkering desk some few weeks ago. Len had been planning this for months, and now it's all ruined. Unless Lisa can get away with the painting right under Scarlet's nose. Please let her get away.
Couldn't the kid take a day off? He always seemed to have his head up their asses.
The Flash crosses his arms in irritation, and stares at Len. He can’t help but think that the speedster wants to see him sweat, until the man finally declares.
'There is more to life than crime, Snart. More to you.'
Len smirks, he feels flattered that the kid has so much unwarranted faith in him.
'You are right about that, Scarlet. But I'm just so good at being bad that it doesn't really matter. I'm one of the best thieves out there. And I love what I do, I always have.’
'Go somewhere else and do it, since you love it so much. Why stay here? In this city, there is nowhere for you to run and hide. I'll find you while you're out being the bad guy, and I’ll take you down each and every time.'
If Len wasn’t wearing his goggles, he wonders what Barry would see. How much irritation would be visible as he was forced to listen to the same speech over and over. It has become so very tiresome. Why does Barry care so much? Len sighs for the dramatics, and waves the cold gun as he retorts with a mostly casual affliction. He tries to remain impassive.
'Come on kid, you know my answer to that already. I've told you once before, but you seem to be a poor listener. This is my home and there is nowhere else I'd rather be. Not only that, our games have become so much fun. How could I just leave when there is someone out there to give me a challenge?’
The Flash's voice booms in anger, his body straining violently. Len watches the man's gloved fingers tighten as he clenches his arms in self restraint. He wonders how much restraint the man really has, when he will become another loose cannon.
'This isn't a game! People get hurt or die because of your actions.'
Well, isn’t that something. Kettle meet pot.
‘I’m not the only killer here, am I?’
The Flash’s face crumples in blatant torment, his eyes glowing yellow through the darkness. Looks like Len struck a raw nerve.
'No, that isn't true! I'm out saving countless lives every day while you are out destroying them.'
The kids hands wave desperately as he tries to dismiss the accusation, it is pathetic how easily the kid tries to avoid the truth. How he often started speaking of things he knew zip about. He didn’t know anything, and it pissed Len off. That, and the kid was holding something back. Lying. A growing wind blows the parka’s hood off as Len steps toward the speedster menacingly, his heart thumping quickly in his chest.
'Tell me, how much blood do you have on your hands, Barry?'
Len keeps walking forward, he is just a few feet away from the trembling hero. His cold gun is powered up, and thrumming in his hands. Just in case.
'Shut up.’
Len stops. The kid is no longer looking at him, his hands clenched in tight fists as he stares wide eyed at the cracking concrete beneath his feet.
'How many times have your actions led to someone's gruesome demise?'
The Flash lifts his gaze from the crumbled ground. The kids expression is blank, his eyes empty. Len is terrified, and knows he is pushing this too far. However, the damn kid needed to stop putting on his usual facade in front of him. They were not friends, they are enemies. He needed to kick the speedster from his high horse, show him how similar they were. Barry was a little killer too, wasn’t he? He is proven right within a few seconds. Apparently the horse wasn’t high at all.
‘Do you think I wanted to see anyone die? Do you think I wanted to kill anyone? I was doing everything that I could, yet it just wasn’t enough.’
Len shudders as a chill creeps through his spine. Seems that the city’s hero was just as broken as it was. The fact that the kid had killed someone doesn’t sit well. He should have felt relief that the man wasn’t as perfect as everyone portrayed him. Compassion leaks through his words at the sudden observation. He wants to puke, there is too much truth being said. The cold gun rests limply within his grip.
‘Of course not, Barry. You shouldn’t expect yourself to be able to save everyone in this city. It is impossible, even for The Flash. Heroes have their bad days, you just have to pick yourself back up from those moments. I can’t have my nemesis falling apart from needless guilt.’
Hope shines briefly through the hero’s countenance. Barry never seemed to give up, and Len can’t help but find that it is slightly endearing. Len had been much too nice to the man, too forgiving of his nemesis’s weakness. Pulled him back from the darkness just as quickly as he fell there. But something still lingered underneath.
‘Help me then, Snart. We don’t have to keep fighting each other, we can team up and protect Central City together. We can save lives, no one else has to die needlessly if we can help it.’
‘I don’t want to help you. I want to help myself, and that is it. There isn't anything left to save, Scarlet. I’m the villain in all of this, whether we both have blood on our hands or not.’
The Speedster was monologuing once again, his back now turned from the enemy as he walked away in visible disappointment. Of course he was telling Len that he had good in him, that he wasn't this horrible person. What did the kid know? This is how Len had always operated, a man in the dark. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. He wasn’t a hero.
'You might believe that you're a lost cause, but I only see a conflicted man cradling the line between what is right and wrong.'
'Give it up kid, do you even hear yourself? This isn't some cute little bedtime story where the monster under the bed is actually your friend. That monster is just some twisted thing that wasn't ever loved or cared for, that was beaten down over and over until all it knew was pain and suffering. It doesn't want to be your friend, it just wants to rip your throat out. Devour your misery to add to its own.'
More anger vibrates visibly through The Flash. Len stares at questioningly at the speedsters back as the kid pushes in the com button built into his iconic mask. Len wonders why the kid was messing with it. That is until icy words flow from the man standing still ahead of him. Something malicious squirms in delight within the shadows of the masked mans demeanor.
'Are you just a sad little monster, Snart? Are you unloved, and broken down? Did your daddy beat you, and kick you while you were begging for him to stop as you sat kneeling on the ground?'
What the hell?
'Don't bring that piece of shit into this. Don't you fucking dare, Flash. You don't even -'
'Know? But isn't it so obvious though? He still has all of this power over you, even while his corpse rots at the cemetery.'
Accusing eyes, an outstretched hand trying to grip his arm. The growing buildup of ice spreading through his Fathers chest. That last breath in, the last pitiful exhale out.
'Stop it.'
A tremble courses through Len's body, his hands shaking around the cold gun. Sweat slicks the inside of his gloves. Something is wrong. All of this is so wrong.
'You don't have anything to prove to him anymore. Why do you keep letting him dictate what you are, who you will always be? You are more, you are so much more damnit.'
Green eyes penetrate through the growing cracks of Len's facade. He wants to see the Flash freeze. The gun powers up without a second of thought, the whirring loud, the threat unmistakable.
'Get out of my face, Barry.'
Get that pretty face out of here. I’m going to kill you, go away for your own good. Please go away, Barry.
Air escapes Len’s lungs in a whoosh as he is pushed into the museums outer wall. The cold gun slipping from his fingers, the clattering on concrete sounding final.
Damnit, now is not the time for butter fingers.
Powerful hands grip tightly onto his arms, holding him back effectively. Len tries kicking the feet from under the speedster, but the man moves in closer to avoid any potential damage. Their bodies press tightly together as they struggle for dominance, but the other man has the upper hand. Len snarls as Barry’s breath brushes harshly against his parted lips. He is too close for comfort, so Len slams his head forward, going for a head-butt. It misses its mark as the kid flashes out of the way.
Son of a bitch, the kid is fast. An arm presses against his neck threateningly, as he is pushed tighter against the bricks of the building behind him. The Flash whispers severely against Len’s right ear.
'Why don't you make me, Captain Cold.’
The man pulls away marginally, and Len can breathe much easier as the space between them increases for a moment. There is lightening flickering through the insides of Barry's eyes, and there is a dangerous gleam from within the man that makes Len tingle from the thrill of fear and from the growing arousal of their current game. Because yes, he can feel it now, the hard press of the speedsters cock straining against his leg. Did the kid even know what he was doing? Was this all some twisted game to Central City’s local hero? This was taking things too far. There was something wrong with The Flash. Len wants to fight him off, but his body refuses to listen.
‘Show me how you plan on getting out of this, Cold.’
Lips trace the length of Len’s neck. He can’t help himself as he shudders and throws his head back against the wall. Whatever anger he had moments ago is swiftly pushed into the back of his mind, he’ll let it simmer and make Barry pay. I’ll make him freeze. Blunt nails trace down his throat as the arm pinning him goes back to a less threatening hold. The Flash laughs sardonically as Len groans aloud. Len wants to sneer, but he can’t seem to pull it off. Everything feels so fucking hot as sweat makes his clothes cling to his flesh. He doesn’t even want the kid, could never want him. However, it has been such a long time since someone had touched him. And he has a feeling that it would be just how he liked it. His lips part in excitement as he realizes that Barry can feel every movement between them. Can feel every breath.
This is a horrible idea, what the hell am I doing?
Len grinds his hips slowly against the other mans, his lips curling up into a predatory grin. The speedster watches Len’s lips raptly as he teases quietly.
'I'm at a bit of a disadvantage at the moment.’
Or maybe not. The Flash was breathing heavily as if he was actually having trouble holding on as Len pushed against the other mans wavering grip, their bodies sliding wickedly against the others. Barry’s eyes close as he tilts his head back in his growing excitement. Perhaps Len could still worm his way out of this and even get a good fuck to go with his prize.
‘I can-‘
A groan comes from several feet away as Mick slowly curls into himself, he was waking back up. Len pushes the Flash away savagely, their eyes wide as they both come back to their senses. What the hell were they doing?
The kid won’t even look at him as he backs away desperately, as if it was Len’s fault they were about to fuck in the alley. As if he wasn’t in control of himself. As if neither of them were in control.
‘Hey, kid…’
Barry was gone in the blink of an eye.