What a Match (I'm Half-Doomed)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/5076712.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014)
Relationship: Captain Cold/The Flash, Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Character: Barry Allen, Leonard Snart, Joe West
Additional Tags: Explicit Language, Sexual Content, Secret Relationship, Blow Jobs,
Barry's kind of a slut
Language: English
Series: Part 5 of I'm Half-Doomed, You're Semi-Sweet
Stats: Published: 2015-10-25 Words: 4,038 Chapters: 1/1

What a Match (I'm Half-Doomed)

by trespresh

Summary

Barry looks down at the blueprints again. “You know I’m not going to let you go after CC
Exchange. That’s my bank—you’d literally be stealing my money.”

“So I’ll buy you something pretty with it,” Len says nonchalantly, his hand curling behind
Barry’s neck as he leans in to nip at the fleshy hollow where Barry’s jaw meets his ear. He
knows Len is aiming to distract him, but he closes his eyes and lets Len try for a few
minutes anyway.

(In which Barry and Len are sort of, maybe, a thing... but that doesn't mean Cold has a get-
out-of-trouble-free card from the Flash.)

Notes

So I had a little plot bunny to feel out the ship and see how I like it. I honestly didn't plan on
this being so porny but these two have a mind of their own. I regret nothing.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to the DC Universe, title belongs to my boyfriends, Fall Out
Boy. I own the words and any mistakes, as this is unbeta'd.

+
“We only break the rules to help people,” Barry had once said to Joe, which.

Wasn’t entirely true. Sometimes Barry breaks the rules to help himself (which he actually deserves
from time to time, he rationalizes). Being with Leonard Snart is like eating the last piece of pizza in
a room full of starving people. Barry knows he shouldn’t and he knows literally everyone would be
pissed at him if they ever found out, but it’s just. It’s so good, feels so strangely right, that Barry
can’t not.

“Would you mind not leaving out blueprints of the banks you’re planning to hit?” Barry calls out
when he walks into Leonard’s apartment and immediately sees the papers strewn across the
kitchen counter. “Like. You haven’t forgotten who I am, have you?”

Leonard strolls into the kitchen, casual as ever, to grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. He pops the
cap with his hand and looks at Barry with that familiar smug grin. “Hey, you’ve got your job, and
I’ve got mine.”

“But this is just bad criminal…ing,” Barry tells him, “leaving your plans out where your enemies
can see them.” He laughs, “I thought you were better than this.”

Len takes a swig of the beer before sauntering over, stopping only when he’s directly in front of
Barry. Barry, for his part, leans back against the counter to allow Len to step forward, trapping him
there with his hips pushed to Barry’s.

“You’re only my enemy when you’re wearing that ridiculous suit,” Len says around a chuckle.
Barry pretends to pout, which only makes Len push him harder to the counter. “And don’t say shit
about my criminaling.”

Barry snorts a laugh. The word somehow sounds different when Len says it, with an edge of
taunting and pride for his work.

Barry looks down at the blueprints again. “You know I’m not going to let you go after CC
Exchange. That’s my bank—you’d literally be stealing my money.”

“So I’ll buy you something pretty with it,” Len says nonchalantly, reaching around Barry to set his
beer on the counter. He rests one hand low on Barry’s hip, the other curling behind Barry’s neck as
Len leans in to nip at the fleshy hollow where Barry’s jaw meets his ear.

“You must think I’m some kind of whore,” Barry says lightly, and tilts his head back to expose
more of his neck to Len. Len just breathes a laugh into Barry’s warm skin, pressing kisses and
barely painful bites there. Barry knows Len is aiming to distract him, but he closes his eyes and lets
Len try for a few minutes anyway.

Barry can feel the scratch of Len’s stubble, the way Len’s hips cant forward in barely noticeable
little jerks against Barry’s. Len’s thumb is pushing circles into the sensitive skin of Barry’s
hipbone, his other hand anchored on the back of Barry’s neck, holding Barry there like he thinks
Barry might plan on running away (he’s not).

Len scrapes his teeth over Barry’s Adam’s apple and that’s enough for Barry. He tilts his head
down to catch Len’s mouth, and within a blink, has them flipped. He pushes Len to the counter and
they kiss hard, harsh breaths and teeth catching lips and maybe a soft moan or two (and Barry’s
never quite sure which of them the moans belong to).
It’s not gentle, never is. Being with Len is an experience—rough and a little dirty in a way Barry
never thought he’d like, but he really, really does. Len brings out a new darkly playful side in him
that no one ever has before; Barry chalks it up to Len being a criminal, but he’s come to terms with
that pretty quickly.

Len’s hands now curl around to the small of Barry’s back, fingers dipping just below the line of his
boxers. Barry shivers a little and pulls back from Len’s mouth, a smile curving his lips as he licks
them pointedly. He chuckles when Len’s eyes follow the movement. The first time they got
together, Barry was surprised to learn how easy it was to drive Len crazy. To say Barry has fun
with it would be a gross understatement.

“You don’t get to distract me that easily.” Barry’s voice comes out a little hoarse and needy,
thoroughly contradicting his words, and Len lets out this low chuckle that has him diving back in.
Only for a few minutes, though, because his phone starts vibrating in his back pocket, forcing him
to pull back again.

Len sighs in irritation, aligning their hips and pushing their half-hard cocks together through their
jeans. He smiles when Barry breathes a groan, pulling his vibrating phone out. “You know, there’s
an ‘Or Are You Just Happy to See Me’ joke here somewhere,” Len says. Barry rolls his eyes and
answers Joe’s call.

It’s weird to listen to Joe tell him about a crime scene while he has Leonard Snart’s hands on his
ribcage, Leonard’s mouth humming against his collarbone, beard burn from Leonard’s chin and
cheeks all over Barry’s skin. Barry feels guilty. He promises Joe he’s on his way and hangs up
before Joe can hear Len’s groan of annoyance.

“I gotta go,” Barry says, even though Len obviously already knows. He steps back and straightens
his shirt, reaches a hand into his boxers to adjust himself.

“Tease,” Len says, and he’s grumpy but there’s no real bite in his voice.

Barry laughs and leans in for one more kiss. “I’ll deal with you tonight,” he says quietly and Len
smirks.

“Yes, you will.”

Barry’s just finishing up detailing evidence from the scene—drug deal gone bad—when Joe’s
radio crackles. He steps away to take the call, and there’s a hint of fear in his voice when he returns
to Barry.

“Bank robbery,” Joe says quietly. “You might want to get your suit for this one.”

“A bank? You’re getting predictable, Cold,” Flash says, a tiny edge of teasing in his voice that’s
undetectable to everyone but Snart.

“’S almost like you knew I’d be here, Flash,” Cold drawls, emphasis on Flash that makes Barry
bite back a chuckle. Interesting how, despite the cops on the scene with their guns trained on the
criminals, Barry and Snart can still have a private conversation.

He takes out Heatwave first, easily enough. Barry puts Jay Garrick’s training to use, circling and
circling until he can hurl a bolt of lightning directly at Rory’s gun, disintegrating it so the ash falls
through Rory’s fingers before he can get a shot of fire off.

(“Dude,” Cisco whimpers in Barry’s ear.)

Defenseless, Rory throws an exasperated look at Snart, who has that stupid smirk trained on Barry
while the latter clasps Rory’s hands behind his back and shoves him at the nearest cop.

“Cute trick,” Cold calls to him, that ever-amused tone of his voice making Barry turn to face him
squarely.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way,” he says, speaking to Len rather than to Cold.

“Begging looks good on you, Flash,” Cold says, and he fires the Cold Gun, missing Barry’s head
by inches, the beam of cold streaking over his shoulder instead. Barry knows Cold could’ve hit
him square-on if he’d really wanted to; perks of dating (dating?) a villain, Barry supposes.

In the half-second Barry spends pondering exactly what he and Len are, Cold fires again, this time
hitting him in the thigh. The frostbite merely stings—not hurting nearly as bad as it would’ve
without Cisco’s thermotech suit fibers.

“Hey, what the hell!” Barry yells at Snart, who laughs lightly as though he’d merely thrown an ice
cube at Barry. So much for dating perks.

“Not what I was aiming for, but that’ll work,” Snart calls. “Blue balls are a bitch, huh, kid?”

Barry zips out of the way of the next shot of cold, looking at Cold in disbelief. Snart knows about
the thermotech in his suit, and he knows Barry heals at super-speed. He’s just pouting; he’s
actually punishing Barry for running out on him earlier. What a brat.

Barry tries not to think about how weird this exchange must look to the surrounding cops. “Hard
way it is,” he says, and takes off.

He flits in jagged circles around Cold, who fires the gun with just-off-kilter aim every time Barry
stops. Patches of ice line the walls and floor of the bank lobby; Barry needs to end this quickly or
else he’s going to have to find a new bank to go to.

Beams of cold fly after him as Snart trains the gun on the streaks of electricity Barry leaves as he
runs. He circles in closer, Cisco directing him through the com system, and makes a sharp turn in
toward Cold, cutting behind him faster than any eyes can follow. He holds his arm out at the last
millisecond and connects hard with Snart’s shoulder. He hears a sickening crack and Snart’s on the
floor at his feet, hand clutching his shoulder and gasping harshly through his teeth. The Cold Gun
clatters to the side and Barry kicks it away.

“You asshole,” Snart mutters when Barry crouches next to him, and Barry chuckles.

“I literally told you I wasn’t going to let you do this,” he says quietly, casually, just before Joe and
a few other cops descend on them.

Joe yanks Snart up by his good arm. “I’ll have the medics set your shoulder before you get the
cuffs,” Joe says gruffly.

“How kind,” Snart spits, and Barry watches Joe lead him off to the ambulance outside. Barry waits
until Joe pushes him into the back of a squad car, waits for the car to speed off toward the station,
before he zips off to follow.
He snags Len from the moving car before the rookie behind the wheel can figure out what’s
happened.

“They’re saying he un-cuffed himself somehow, tuck-and-rolled out of the squad car without
Officer Johnson seeing,” Joe says over the phone, and Barry hopes his groan of annoyance is
convincing. Joe snorts. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“What?” Barry says in surprise. “What does that mean?” He looks at Len sitting in front of him,
shirtless and relaxed against the couch in his apartment, an ice pack on his shoulder. Snart glares
half-heatedly at him.

“Mm-hm,” Joe hums, and Barry doesn’t like the note of skepticism in his voice. “When’s the last
time you successfully lied to me, Bar? Just… I hope you know what you’re doing.” He hangs up.

Barry lowers his phone from his ear, staring at it.

“What?” Len asks.

“I—” Barry starts, then stops. “Nothing. How’re you feeling?”

“Like some goody-goody in a stupid suit dislocated my shoulder,” Len snarks. “You could’ve gone
easy on me, you know.”

Barry drops down next to him. “You have your job, and I have mine, right? Plus, you tried to
freeze my dick off,” he deadpans, then adds, “Besides, when do I ever go easy on you?”

It comes out as more of a purr than Barry was intending but Len side-eyes him so he rolls with it,
feeling gutsy. He drops a hand to Len’s thigh and leans in, presses his lips to the cool skin of Len’s
shoulder. He twists and throws a leg across the other’s lap and pulls himself up so he’s straddling
Len. Len turns his head away like he’s actually going to turn Barry down (yeah, right) but his
hands automatically come up to rest on Barry’s hips anyway.

“Come on,” Barry says, voice low and gravely, and that has Len’s eyes flicking to him. “Let me
make it up to you.”

Len considers him for a second and Barry’s honestly surprised it takes him that long before he
turns to accept Barry’s kiss. He’s all teeth on Barry’s mouth, hands squeezing and thumbs pressing
into Barry’s hips—he’s everywhere, and Barry lets himself tense and relax into the rough
treatment. So, it’s going to be that kind of night.

(It usually is, after a square-off like today.)

He’s just leaning down to drop kisses and nips at Len’s neck when Len’s fingers thread into his
hair and yank his head back. Len’s pupils are blown when Barry looks down at him (he can’t
imagine that his own eyes look much better) and Barry lets his mouth hang open a little and licks at
his lower lip.

Len watches, doesn’t take his eyes off Barry’s mouth when he breathes, “You want to make it up
to me?”

Barry just smirks in response. (He never used to smirk before he met Len. Stupid, cocky criminal.)

“Get on your knees,” Len commands, and it’s only on nights like this that he lets Len boss him
around. He kind of likes it, really. So, Len’s fingers still twisted in his hair just this side of
painfully, Barry scrambles off Len and down onto the floor between Len’s thighs.

He makes quick work of Len’s jeans, button and briefs no match for his nimble, super-speed
fingers. Len’s already hot and hard when Barry gets his hand around him, stroking firm and slow
with his eyes on Len’s face. Len lets out this little shaky sigh but his eyes don’t waver; he lets his
hand fall to the back of Barry’s head, tugging on the short strands of hair there and holding him in
place.

“Go on, then,” he says.

Barry’s not one for starting slow. He sucks the head of Len’s cock into his mouth, tonguing eagerly
and loving the quiet, strangled noise Len lets out. He lets his tongue drift in tight circles around the
head, flattening against the underside and vibrating just a little. He bobs a few times before sinking
down further until there’s nothing left to take, and hums around the heavy weight in his mouth.
Len’s hips jerk up off the couch just barely, his hand strong on the back of Barry’s neck, holding
him there even as Barry gags a little.

“Hold it,” Len breathes, and Barry works to relax his throat and breathe through his nose. He lets
Len keep him there, lets him fuck his hips up against Barry’s face. From this angle he can’t look up
at Len, but knows from experience that Len’s got his head thrown back against the couch, eyes
closed and teeth clenched. The mental image has Barry unbearably hard in his jeans.

He gags again and pushes at Len’s thigh insistently, pulling off to cough and heave in a breath. He
moves for Len’s cock again but the hand in his hair pulls him back. He whines softly and looks up,
lips wet and cheeks red, and he knows he must look obscene by the way Len hungrily eyes his face
like he can’t look hard enough.

“Be naked on my bed by the time I get to the bedroom,” Len says quietly, and Barry swallows
before zipping away to obey, throwing his shirt over his head as he goes. When Len enters the
bedroom not a minute later, he’s not disappointed.

He doesn’t waste much time prepping Barry, mostly because Barry doesn’t want or need it, just
needs Len to touch him, stretch him, press into him until it hurts. He pushes back against Len’s
fingers from his position on his stomach.

“Come on,” Barry whimpers impatiently, turning his head so his cheek is against the pillows and
he can look back at Len with one eye. He arches back against Len’s cold hands, wanting to feel
him everywhere, it’s not enough, it’s not enough—

“Greedy little hero, aren’t you,” Len teases, but he sounds breathless himself, shifting and pulling
Barry up by the hips for a better angle.

“I know you’re not all talk, Len, come on.” Barry is going to explode right this very minute if Len
doesn’t—

His jaw drops in a low groan when Len pushes in, in one careful but firm movement. It’s a weird
sensation—Len being so cold and warm at the same time—that shouldn’t feel so intoxicating but it
has Barry squirming against him. Len drops a hand between Barry’s shoulder blades, pushing him
down as the other hand curls around Barry’s hipbone, forcing Barry’s back into a near painful arch
as he starts really fucking into Barry, and Barry doesn’t bother to smother his groans and whines,
just presses his cheek into the pillow and lets himself be held down and fucked. There’s just
something about Len that turns him into this whimpering, desperate mess, but damned if Barry
doesn’t live for nights like this.
The whole thing is over for both of them embarrassingly quick after that, Len reaching around to
wrap a fist around Barry, jerking him until Barry breathes in sharply and comes over the bedspread,
and Len follows close behind.

They lay there afterward, Len on his back and Barry still on his stomach, stretched out and not
touching one another save for Len’s hand resting on Barry’s back. Barry’s got his eyes closed,
arms stretched above his head and cheek resting on his crossed forearms. He’s near falling asleep
when Len breaks the silence.

“If only Central City knew how shameless their hero can be,” he mutters, chuckling. His hand
begins trailing softly up and down Barry’s back. “I think they’d lose it. Not that I’m complaining,
kid.”

Barry breathes a laugh, not opening his eyes. “Don’t call me ‘kid’. I kicked your ass today.”

“And I fucked yours, what’s your point?”

Barry cracks an eye open, sticking his tongue out in response. A vulnerable silence falls over them,
and Barry rolls over.

“I think Joe knows,” he says after a minute. Len looks over at him but doesn’t say anything. Barry
sighs. “I wish I didn’t have to lie to all of them.”

Len snickers quietly. “Trust me, you don’t think I want to shout from the rooftops that I’m fucking
the Flash?”

Barry huffs, suddenly irritated. “So why don’t you?” He grumps even though he knows why they
can’t tell anyone.

Len doesn’t answer right away, and when Barry looks up, Len’s looking down at him with a
strange look, patronizing and like he knows where Barry’s going with this. There’s a little tilt at the
corner of his lips when he says slowly, “Because someone would hear me.”

Barry looks down, glares at nothing and a spike of anger flares in him. He hates that he has to lie to
his friends, is angry that he can’t be happy or proud about whom he’s with, angry because that
person is Leonard Snart of all people. What kind of hero goes and falls for his enemy?

Barry backtracks through his own thoughts. ‘Falls for’? That’s really not the kind of contemplation
he needs right now; he files it away for later and switches tack.

“You know, scientifically, cold and fast… we shouldn’t work together as well as we do.”

Len looks at him long and hard, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s trying to figure out what to say
next. Barry squirms under the heavy gaze.

“I wouldn’t say we work together well at all.”

Barry looks pointedly down at his naked body. “Really? You’re going to say that to me now?”

Len sighs tiredly. “Where are you going with this, Barry?”

Barry glares, not sure where to go from here. It’s not like he wants to label anything—the idea of
calling Captain Cold his boyfriend makes Barry uncomfortable, honestly—but this thing they have,
whatever it is, it’s more than just fucking to him. He supposes it was just wishful thinking to hope
Len might let that cold, guarded wall down for him.
“Nowhere, forget it,” Barry says, pushing himself up and pulling his clothes on at super speed.
“Uh,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck, feeling the sore muscles where Len had held him
tight. “I’m gonna go.”

Len fixes this unreadable look on him, eyes narrowed and watching Barry closely. “Barry—”

“I’ll see you later,” he says, and bolts.

A couple days pass before Barry hears anything from Snart.

He’s working in his lab at the police department, an eye to the lens of his microscope as he
absently studies a slide, when Joe sticks his head in.

“Cold and Heatwave hit the CC Science Museum,” he says, and Barry looks over at him, confused,
trying to ignore the way his stupid heart leaps.

“What is there to steal from a science museum?” He asks.

Joe just shakes his head and eyes Barry knowingly. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Barry used to love the CC Science Museum when he was a kid. His mom and dad used to take him
and then later, Joe. He’d run from exhibit to exhibit, playing with the hands-on activities and
absorbing every bit of knowledge he could.

Well. The place looks much smaller now.

He looks around with Joe at his side, and remembers fondly. “So… where to?” Barry asks, and Joe
leads him to the floor designated Electricity. There are cops everywhere talking in hushed voices,
and he catches the words “the Flash” more than once. He jerks his head around to look at Joe in
concern.

“What’s going on?” He asks urgently.

Joe leads him through a doorway and points him toward the exhibit about thunderstorms and
lightning generation, and Barry stares. Burned into the wall, ablaze and crackling, is the massive,
unmistakable shape of the Flash’s lightning bolt. And, encircling the giant blazing bolt, is—

Barry has to work to hide the smile that threatens to cut into his cheeks. There’s a circle of ice
around the fiery bolt.

He’s acutely aware of Joe watching his reaction. “Nothing was taken?” He asks in what he hopes is
a nonchalant tone.

Joe shakes his head. “No, but they found this. Cold must’ve left it.” He holds out a piece of paper
and Barry takes it from him.

This is as close to shouting from the rooftops, as I’m going to get.

He recognizes Len’s neat scrawl and his stomach does a weird little somersault. He reads it a
couple more times until it’s burned into his mind’s eye before handing it back to Joe.

“They think it’s a target on the Flash’s back,” Joe tells him, and Barry nods carefully. He knows
 better. This is Len’s way of making things right, showing the world that he and Barry are—
whatever they are. Barry catches himself before he grins stupidly the way he wants to, and glances
at Joe.

“I’m on it. Thanks Joe,” he says, and is gone with barely a ruffle of Joe’s jacket.

He skids to a stop in the doorway of Len’s apartment and, after a quick look through the place,
finds it empty. He frowns, glancing around the kitchen when he sees a note on the countertop with
the same neat writing as the note at the Science Museum.

Hope you liked my little display. Call you tonight.

Either Len knows Barry alarmingly well and knew he’d come here, or he’s just supremely cocky.
Either way, Barry’s got a goofy little smile on his face as he picks up a pen and adds his own
message to the piece of paper.

You’re a sap. x

Barry’s phone rings around 3 in the morning. He picks it up groggily, squinting at the too-bright
screen in serious irritation until he sees the name on the screen.

“What do you want?” is how he answers, more smile in his voice than bite.

“Oh please,” comes Len’s voice, smug and alert as always, like neither the time of night nor
Barry’s sleep cycle occurred to him. (Which, Barry thinks, is actually probably true. That’s Len.)
“Like you’re actually not going to come over right now.”

“3 A.M., though? You’re a dick,” Barry grumbles before hanging up, but he’s already out of bed
and pulling on boxers and shoes, a sleepy smile on his face because he knows things are okay with
them.

He doesn’t bother with pants or a shirt; he won’t need them at Len’s anyway.

Works inspired by this [podfic]

one What a Match (I'm Half-Doomed) by read_by_Sophie (Sophie)

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