Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Okay, in Linda’s defense it’s not like she’s planned to find the love of her life tonight, but it’s not like she can help it. She figured that, at most, she’d make some connections to editors and other bloggers and that it would bring lots of opportunities for her future. She couldn’t have accounted for running into the cutest woman she has ever seen.

But there she is, in the middle of a group of faintly old men who keep talking to her and are oblivious to the way her smile, albeit radiant and bright, is nothing but fake. Still, the way it shines against her - she can’t even the words to describe it, really, and she’s a writer! She should know how to describe a face that’s both round and sharp, but she can’t think of any description other than perfect . And the way her polite smile fits into it doesn’t make it any worse. Which is to say, it does make it worse, but only for Linda because she’s helplessly drawn into it. 

Well, and the poor woman looks like she needs a saving. Linda is nothing but a selfless hero here, if anyone asks. 

She just hopes none of these men are her boyfriend. Or husband. It really would be a petty, speaking highly professionally.

“Hey, babe,” she starts easily, touching the woman’s elbow lightly. There’s a moment of confusion written into her eyes before it vanishes and makes space for relief. Great, then Linda has had the right hunch. Once again. She should make a business out of those. “Sorry for being late.”

“Oh, that’s– it’s no problem, you know that. I mean, I did have to wait but it’s not like I was all alone, you know, with these nice men keeping me entertained and–” Oh , she’s a rambler. And it’s endearing. Linda is screwed. the woman turns around swiftly so that she comes to stand next to her and faces the men. “Well, pardon me, fellas. But thanks for the talk!”

They’re barely out of earshot when she lets out a big sigh. “ God , thank you for that save,” she says, this time with an honest smile. It makes Linda’s insides turn around. “Like, at first it was just that one guy who wanted to discuss-- well, I’m not quite sure what he’s wanted to discuss, but he was nice enough so I figured ‘Hey, maybe this’ll keep you entertained!’ And then they just kept piling up and I-- I don’t even know why , honestly. They mostly went to hear themselves talk, I think.”

Linda can’t help but stare at her as she keeps rambling. She’s still holding onto the other’s elbow, keeping her close, and she doesn’t seem like she has any intention of backing away. And given that she’s talking so much, in contrast to how quiet she had been between those men, Linda guesses she really doesn’t have that intention, like, at all. 

She can easily tell why these men have been annoying her so much. Because they’re men, so they think they’re entitled to speak to any beautiful woman in the room, but she has to give them one quality: at least they do know to appreciate beauty, even if it’s in the worst way possible. Linda is one of those people who can find something pretty about everyone. Whether it be the way their eyes shine when they smile, or the shape of their nose or… just something. She has never met an ugly person, honestly. But this lady hee by her side? She’s a jackpot. She’s got everything that Linda finds herself attracted to and the way her head ducks as if she needs to hide away from that group now that she has the chance-- Here’s the thing: Linda may find beauty in everyone, but she’s never been the type to believe in love at first side. And this isn’t love, she knows, but by God , does she hope that she’s gay. 

Or bi.

Or pan.

As long as she is attracted to women, Linda will take it. 

Just as she has been blessed with the ability to find beauty in everyone, Linda also has the talent to be curious about anything that’s brought up during a conversation. For her, it’s usually not so much about the content, admittedly, but rather about what it does to the people. She can tell if someone really wants to talk about it or if they feel like they have to, stuff like that. It’s how she figured out Detective West from CCPD isn’t as annoyed by her as he pretends to be.

But as the woman tells her all about how she’s ended up in that circle, Linda can’t help but hang onto her lips (and how sad it is that it’s only metaphorically). She listens as she gets the whole story: how she’s only just moved here and thought it would be an easy way to connect to people - it’s a meet-up of all kinds of magazine-related people, so surely there’d be someone who’s interests are like hers? 

Linda doesn’t have it in her heart to explain that this is not what a meet-up like this for. At least not yet. Instead, she lets her carry on until she finally reaches the part where some guy chatted her up, and how another joined, and another and how she’s figured sending them away would go against what she’s come here for, after all. “Men, am I right? Always think they’re entitled to your attention,” Linda says with a light shrug. She grabs two glasses of champagne from the next tray and hands one over. “Well, thank God I don’t have to deal with them.”

It just slipped out, because that’s how she talks, alright? She didn’t plan to just go and announce to the world that she’s a lesbian (although, truth be told, she does that fairly often). And okay, she’d love to eat away this gal right here, of course, but she doesn’t plan to come on too strong either.

There’s a small pause where the woman’s smile falters a little, but then it goes back to normal. “Huh, same,” she says, a certain gleam of surprise in her eyes all of a sudden.

Internally, Linda is doing a victory dance. It’s hard, sometimes, to figure out whether a girl is just being nice or if she’s interested , but lesbians have the superpower of recognizing her kin. At least Linda has it; one of the many talents God herself bestowed upon her. And this lady right here? Just hit at least a 5 on the Kinsey Scale (not that Linda is much of a fan of that concept in general, it’s an expression). Externally, however, Linda is cool as ever. She’s a boss at acting, seriously. Giving her a sly smile, she suggests, “Well, I suppose we should stay close to one another. Else those guys’ll think we lied to them and we don’t want that, do we?”

It takes the other exactly two seconds to remember just how they ended up here, side by side, but then she starts smiling, too. “Right,” she agrees, and raises her glass to clink with Linda’s. 

“What’s your name, then?”

“Patty,” comes the swift answer, accompanied by another bright smile. 

Linda doesn’t repeat the name. She doesn’t need to. It’s already burnt into the back of her mind - like she could forget the name of such a stunning woman! She doesn’t need to taste it on her lips either. She’s always found that line in writing cliche and it’s not like she won’t have enough opportunities to try it out either. 

God, she hopes she’ll have plenty of those.

Chapter Text

Sharing an apartment (or rather, a single room with an adjacent bathroom) with Mick is not much different from sharing a cell. It’s a tad more private, but that’s about it. Meaning they’re pretty much always up in each other’s faces. 

Right now, Mick’s just stopped writing something into a notebook of his, while Snart had been staring into nothingness. He does that a lot lately, actually; no plans to be made and limited movability are like an instant guarantee for boredom. He can practically feel a tickle in his fingers at all times.

"Snart," Mick all but grunts all of a sudden, not once stopping to click that damn pen he’d found. It's quieter than the zippo he usually fumbles with - that one the cops have taken away, maybe in a spare moment of mercy for Snart - but still annoying.

Not that Snart would tell him off. He knows pretty well that Mick getting pissed can end in disasters. The guy can be creative if the moment calls for it.

Plus, the way he keeps shuffling the deck of cards he nicked from the cafeteria is probably just as annoying. Sweet payback.

He hums, indicating that he heard his friend.

Mick clicks that pen once more before he throws it at the other end of the bed. In the same motion he turns so that he's lying down on his bed, arms under his head. "That thing ya told those guys earlier," he starts. "'bout us. The fuck does that mean?"

It's a common misconception that Mick is dumb. Or that he can't admit when he doesn't know something. Snart, however, is not surprised that he'd ask something like that. Though he's not quite sure what he's referring to.

Obviously, those guys means that damn group chat that's been way too active lately. For a whole week after the two of them joined - and that only because they thought if they're already damned to go back to school, they'd get some fun out of it - it's been mercifully quiet, but now it's like none of those kids ever shut up.

It's a surprising group, too. He'd never have guessed that a billionaire would be the one to add him to the chat. Or that Detective West's kids would be there. It definitely complicates things somewhat, but he guesses when they eventually clear Queen's bank account they'll be subtle enough to hide it from those two. 

Though he'd be lying if he claimed it's no fun to rile Barry up like that. Maybe he can have a little fun in that chat before it all blows up. A different kind, because obviously he and Mick had been aiming for some good lays and the kid is asexual, but he's always enjoyed making people squirm with mere words. 

Still. Those people are so chatty that he can barely remember just what they'd talked about on this day, so he quirks an eyebrow in Mick's direction.

Mick doesn't even look at him, but either he senses it or, which is more likely, the long pause tells him to continue. "That– What's it… QR something."

Oh . Well, Snart definitely can’t fault him for that, especially since he’s had to google it for himself. Not that he can expect the same effort from Mick. “QPPs,” he recalls. “It’s short for– what was it? Queerplatonic partners.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, Mick huffs. “We are queer. 'n’ partners,” he reasons. “What’s that other thing?”

“Platonic?” Snart repeats. “Basically platonic means… not romantic.”

Mick’s eyebrow quirks at that, as does the corner of his mouth. “So… friendship,” he concludes.

“No, it’s–” Snart starts, but truth be told, he’s not quite sure how to explain it. In fact, he’s not even sure he got it. To him, all that stuff sounded like friends with benefits, either sexual or affectionate, and… well, at least the first option seemed accurate for them. “More.”

Now, at last, Mick turns to look at him. There’s a grin on his face, one that he’s not even trying to hide. “Ya full of shit.”

“What?” Snart answers, not able to keep his mouth from falling open. What the fuck?

And Mick snickers. “Ya don’t even know!” He claims gleefully. “Ya jus’ don't want those guys to think ya stupid, so ya agreed.”

“I didn’t–!” Snart starts, but falters promptly at the truth to it. Damn Mick and the way he knows him so well. That’s the problem with keeping someone around for so long, he supposes. For a moment, he’s surprised that he only feels a tad annoyed about Mick’s comment. Which is why he simply replies, “Oh yeah, and you triple checking all your texts means nothing.”

Something really must have gotten into Mick’s brain today, because where he’d expected a flare of anger, Mick just snorts. “Parley,” is all he answers before closing his eyes again.

It’s also pretty telling that Snart doesn’t take long to ask, “... Do you mean ‘touché’?” Mick confusing words is nothing new to him, though sometimes the acrobatics behind that are a mystery - these two aren’t even related, except for the language they stem from, as far as he knows. Maybe his friend’s watched a certain movie trilogy behind his back.

“Whatever,” Mick says. He looks pretty pleased with himself, even though this conversation has done… exactly nothing. “Oh, 'n’ Lenny?”

Snart hums.

“Don’t go 'round usin’ words ya don’t understand, aight?” Mick says happily. The fucking hypocrisy. “'n’ don't put labels on me I ain't agreein' with. Else ya dead.”

Which is a statement Snart does not gulp at. Mick’s gotten his lighters taken away and while he’s probably able to summon fire from pretty much anything if he puts his mind to it, he wouldn’t turn on Snart. Probably. He thinks. Mick is a wildcard he could barely ever account for.

Anyway, the idiots in the chat probably already forgot about his slip there, too busy with all their own problems and ridiculous stuff. So no need to bring that up again, even if to correct himself. 

Thinking about it, he really doesn’t want those people to think he’s as stupid as they are. Mick fucking knows him too well.

Chapter Text

Truth be told, Snart’s not just amused about Iris’ liveblogging of him showing up on her doorstep, he’s actually glad for it. If she didn’t announce it now, then she surely would have done so as soon as he and Barry are out of the door - then he wouldn’t have the mind to look into the chat and make sure she didn’t talk shit. He’s be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy everyone’s reactions.

Naturally, Barry’s had been his favourite. Their squealing when he had revealed himself as the energy drink guy, only for them to remember where they are and quiet down, with a bright blush in place and all. Snart had felt quite excited about that as well, he can admit to himself - it had been the perfect situation. And then, just chilling outside with him and talking… it had been nice.

He could tell that Barry didn’t fully believe he’d show up in the evening but that had been all the more reason to do it. Seeing them in their pajamas, totally confused and overwhelmed, had definitely been worth it.

As they come downstairs again now, interrupting the staring-and-texting fest that he and Iris have made of the moment, they’re wearing a casual jeans and sweater combination. Still, it looks good and Snart can’t hide a genuine smile at the fact they don’t feel like dressing up for him. That would have gotten awkward real quick.

“Hey, Bar,” Iris says slowly and even if he weren’t already looking at her, Snart could picture the teasing smirk on her face. She’s got one of the kind where after only a few minutes you can picture any emotion written into her features; he can’t imagine that would be too good for a therapist, but maybe she’s different in professional environments.

Barry ducks his head immediately, avoiding her eyes. Instead, he just goes to open the front door, holding it upon without further comment.

Snart can’t help but laugh at that, though it didn’t need Iris punching his arm to make him stop. He’s no stranger to those little jabs, having a sister (and Mick) himself, but it’s good to know that even with all her teasing, Iris stands up for them. He gives her a mock salute just for that before walking out the door.

“You guys told the chat, didn’t you?”, Barry asks as they pull it closed. “I hope my reputation isn’t screwed too badly.”

Snart scoffs lightly. “What, the one as the adorable nerd? I think that one’ll be safe for a while.”

He only sees the grimace they do form the corner of his eyes as he leads the way down the path and towards the bike he’s come here with.

“I’m not getting on that thing,” Barry announces as soon as it’s more than clear that it is, in fact, the way of transportation Snart has meant for the two of them. “I didn’t even know you had a bike!”

“It’s technically Mick’s,” Snart says with a light shrug. He takes one of the helmets off the handlebar and holds it out towards them. “I doubt he even realizes I took it.”

Barry looks… not terrified, exactly, but worried. There’s a certain amount of fear written in their eyes as they stare at the bike rather than Snart, biting their lip while doing so. It’s enough to keep him from making a joke on their expense - even if it looks kind of cute.

“Hey,” Snart starts again. He steps a bit closer, between them and the bike to gain their attention. It works and Barry’s eyes meet his. “Do you trust me?”

There’s a change in their expression at that and Snart’s not surprised at all - it should be worth a mental discussion whether to trust him or not. To his amazement, they do break into a smile in the end. “That depends,” they decide, “Was that Aladdin reference on purpose or not?”

It wasn’t, but if it makes him feel better, then Snart won’t barge in. Maybe it’s time to rewatch some Disney classics anyway. So he just tilts his head a little, smiling over at him and holds out his hand.

Barry hesitates for another moment, sucking in his lip as he eyes it carefully. Then, finally, he lets out a soft sigh and places his own in it.

Snart can’t help but let out an appreciative chuckle; this promises to be interesting.

-

“Are you sure you’re okay?”, Snart asks softly, stepping closer to Barry. He contemplates reaching out and taking their hand, but would that even do anything? He’s certain it might just make the whole thing worse.

They’d wrapped their arms around him with way more face than necessary while they drove, even though Snart hadn’t even been speeding at all. It had become so strong that it had hurt him , so he’s stopped the machine before they were even closer to the restaurant he’s picked. It’s been pretty obvious that despite agreeing to try it, Barry’s still been scared of the bike; and Snart may be an asshole, but he won’t torture the guy he’s taking out for dinner.

And even though stopping should have been a relief for Barry, he’s had to practically claw his hands from his body. He would have thought he’d jump off the machine as soon as possible, but it had almost seemed like he hadn’t even realized they’d stopped.

Snart’s only noticed their shaking when they’d gotten off the bike finally. It hadn’t been obvious while they were still pressed against him, but it’s visible - that’s how much they are trembling. The question about whether they were cold, Barry had waved off.

“I-- No, I’m fine.”, he shakes his head. “Well, as fine as I can be, probably.”

Snart frowns. “I shouldn’t have made you climb on that, should I?” He’s not an idiot, and he’s had his fair share of experience with all kinds of mental illnesses during his time in juvie. And this… well, it looks like something.

Again, Barry shakes their head, this time more vehemently. “You didn’t make me do it. And I-- I didn’t wanna be a coward.”

“Pretty sure you aren’t one,” Snart tells him. And he means it - he doesn’t know him that well, naturally, but while Barry may seem a little shy, it’s not like they back out of conversations just because. Besides, if there’s a measurement for cowardice, then it’s not connected to whether you climb on a motorbike, he can imagine. “So, what is it? Anxiety?”

“Yeah,” they breathe, “And PTSD. Some level of depression connected on it.” It’s not a big thing for them, apparently, because they shrug as they tell him.

“Huh,” Snart makes. “Any way I can help? I didn’t mean to push you into an attack, you know.”

It makes them laugh, at least. Not wholeheartedly, but a chuckle - an honest one that simply doesn’t come out the right way. “No, it’s fine. I just need a moment. I thought it wouldn’t be-- that I just had jitters about going on it. You know, just like when you do something for the first time and then afterwards it’s been great .”

“I get that,” Snart says. And he does, but still, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. He feels like he should’ve known, or at least not pressed as hard about using it to get to the restaurant. “Still, we didn’t have to--”

“I’m already better,” Barry cuts in, holding out a hand. The shaking has gotten less, yes. “And you didn’t know.”

“Well, now I can plan in advance.”, Snart says seriously. He doesn’t miss the way their face grows red at that, almost as if they’d thought he could stop liking them now. That thought alone makes him say, “I know how it is-- PTSD. And some light form of bipolar and kleptomania.”

Barry’s eyes grow wide at that. “ Kleptomania ? Then you can’t be punished for stealing!”

“It’s a reason, not an excuse,” Snart chimes in. It wouldn’t help him to hear him say something like that - that thought could build a nest in his head, pushing him back into his teen years. Back then, he hadn’t understood the itch in his hands whenever he’d grown antsy, just thought it had been something normal for criminals. After all, it’s been the same for Mick with his fire. In juvie, he’s first learnt that they both weren’t as neurotypical as they’d have liked to be. He’s still struggling with it but within the years all his heists had been planned rather than spontaneously caused on a whim. “Shrink’s helping with that, anyway.”

“That’s good.”

They stay like this for a while longer, just standing on the pathway and looking either at each other or into the distance. Snart can practically feel Barry grow calmer, as if he’d been buzzing off anxiety before and it slowly ebbs away now. It’s a relief to him; though he still wishes he’d known before.

In the end, he’s made himself look away, giving them the opportunity to calm down further without the gaze of prying eyes. It goes unspoken that they have the lead now, indicating when it’s okay to carry on - if Barry even wants to.

It doesn’t take too long until they speak up.

“So, where are we going?”, Barry wants to know. He looks excited again, a bright smile in place. Almost giddy. It almost makes Snart smile for real as well.

For now, though, he settles with a smirk. “Well, I promised you a dinner, didn’t I?”

At that, there’s a small change in their face. The grin is still as wide as before, but suddenly it looks almost… embarrassed, if the faint blush on their cheeks is anything to go by. Snart doesn’t even have the time to open his mouth to ask about that when they already continue, “I still can’t believe it was you.”

“Funny coincidence, huh?”, Snart huffs. He can’t help the chuckle escaping his lips at that. He’s known, obviously, that he was bound to meet the people from the chat any time soon. If it’s really a proper club like Queen’s sounded like, then they’d meet up at some point. And it wouldn’t have surprised him to run into any of them before - Central City College isn’t the world.

But he’s found a liking towards Barry right from the start; granted, it might just be the thrill. That he’s in a group with not only one, but two children of the cop who got him there in the first place, and the potential that he could start something with one of them is there is exciting. And not just on the level of revenge. He’s learnt to appreciate both of them quite soon. Iris with her sharp tongue and witty remarks, her boldness most of all, and Barry with his sweetness and honesty. In another life, he could find himself interested in both of them. Now, though it’s Barry who captivates him most, and that’s not just because he’s here right now.

It’s quite difficult to pinpoint but there’s something about Barry that’s just… refreshing . It hadn’t been as prominent just while chatting (though, naturally, Snart has enjoyed riling him up) but when they talked in real life earlier this day, it was easy . And fun. He wasn’t as snappy as he was with Mick or Lisa but he didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask either. It’s like he’s actually capable of being nice when he’s with Barry.

“Wait,” Barry makes suddenly, catching his arm with his hand. Snart’s learnt quickly that he’s quite the action-guy, always moving even if it’s just to maintain contact. “ You didn’t know that was me, did you? Or did you think it’d be funny to coincidentally sit down right in front of me and--”

Snart snorts lightly. He really played into being the bad guy, didn’t he? “Barry,” he starts and closes his hand around Barry’s. They don’t push him off but stays there, almost reaffirming - though he couldn’t tell for whom of the two of them. “I’m not as much of a stalker as you all think.”

It’s almost comical how surprised they seem to be by that statement. “Oh. That’s… so it was really just a lucky happenstance, huh?”

“ Lucky , you think?”, Snart repeats.

Barry looks down shortly at that, but they don’t try to get out of that. Another sign that, despite their own belief, they’re not a coward. Instead, they’re painfully honest. “Yeah. I mean, I can’t say I wasn’t curious about you-- or that I didn’t wanna know what you look like.”

“Well, I remember what you thought.”, Snart says with a grin. It had been too funny to see how mortified Barry had been when he’d referred to his texts in the chat. He can see the start of the same expression slowly creep up on his face now, so he adds, “And I think that maybe you should be the one to include ‘pretty’ in their username.”

At first, he fears he might have overstepped a line. Barry finally pulls his hand back again and swats it against Snart’s arm, in the same place where it’s rested the second before. But then he’s grinning a little as he runs his hands through his hair, just above his ears. It’s nervous tic, he realizes. And then, with delight, that he makes Barry nervous, and not even in a bad way.

“I was thinking Big Belly’s wouldn’t have too much style.”, Snart starts. Even if they look more than adorable, he can imagine Barry’d like it more if they didn’t have to feel as embarrassed. “It’s more depression food than anything.”

“Oh, come on, Big Belly’s fun.”, Barry says with a grimace. “You don’t have to impress me, you know.”

Snart huffs, though more out of surprise than anything else. Not at the statement itself, but rather that Barry thinks he’s trying to impress them. And thinking about it, it almost feels like they’re right . That’s a new one. “What’s there to impress? It’s not like my past’s a secret to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Now they lift their brows. “Pretty much the only thing I know is you stole something at a gala. … Besides what you told me earlier. And that you don’t like your parents. Other than that? Basic stuff. I’d say you’ve got plenty secrets.”

There’s one thing that’s definitely not a secret, though, and that’s his fable for dramatics. He lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief, grinning at Barry a little. “Well, then you can certainly try to unwrap them.”

“You do realize I won’t jump at your innuendoes, yes?”, Barry remarks, rolling his eyes a little.

Now, if he were talking to anyone but Snart, maybe the small stutter in his voice hadn’t been as apparent - especially not in comparison to the low-key panic attack he’d had when faced with the bike earlier. But well, he is here with him, and if there’s anything that Snart can be proud of it’s his perceptiveness. He leans over to Barry, leaving only a few inches between there faces, and says in a low voice, “But they do have an effect on you.”

The way Barry ducks his head on reflex to hide his returning blush is enough of an answer.

“Are you sure you even feel ready for food?”, Snart asks then. He wouldn’t mind carrying on with the topic, especially not when he gets reactions like this, but that’s something to take care of now. He knows that anxiety can be horrible on your stomach - he’s already caused them to have half an attack, he wouldn’t like to be responsible for following agony as well.

They sport a huge grin in return. “I can always eat. But… I’d really prefer Big Belly’s over whatever fancy thing you’ve chosen.”

Snart rolls his eyes. “It’s not -- you know, Big Belly’s quite a walk from here.” He sees how Barry opens their mouth to reply and continues, “ No , you’re not going full Bella Swan right now. We’ll postpone your next ride on that thing for now.”

“You’ve read Twilight?”

“It was the big thing when I was in juvie,” Snart shrugs. Maybe he should feel embarrassed about that, but he’s sure enough of his masculinity. Besides, it has been a trash fire, it’s not like he liked it. “Had to keep myself busy somehow.”

“Fair,” they nod. “So, then let’s take a walk, huh?”

When they hold out their hand, Snart can’t help but stare at it for a moment. He hadn’t expected them to put up a fight about any of this, not really, but he can’t say he’s used to such… sweetness either. Barry’s so sincere and soft - without caving in under his words - and he’s not sure how to deal with it. But he wants to know more about that, to figure it (and him ) out.

So he puts his hand into theirs, sliding their fingers together easily.

Chapter Text

Bar opens their eyes when someone sits down into the corner next to them. They turn their head, expecting Iris or Cisco - Iris always is their rock in situations like these and Cisco had been so adamant with sitting with them, they figure either of them would probably pry themselves of the conversations they’ve started. To their surprise, though, it’s Snart who’s pushed himself onto the table, pulling one leg closer to his chest while the other dangles off the table, almost touching Bar’s.

Initially, Bar represses a groan. They’ve come to know Snart as a witty and sarcastic person and while they’ve found themself laughing at some of his comments when they’d gone out for dinner, Bar has no idea how they’d like them aimed at themself.

Snart doesn’t say anything, though, just leans against the wall behind him and looks at Bar. There should be annoyance or a question written in his eyes, but there is nothing - he’s just looking at them as if they were something that’s easily scared (which, okay, they are) and… pretty.

“Would Mick appreciate you dumping him?”, they find themself saying after a few moments, hoping to get Snart to look away. Their own eyes move over to the others - departed into smaller groups and then again not really - to find Mick. He’s sitting on a chair and looking up to Linda who’s standing next to him, shouting something over to Sara.

“Fuck, he hardly ever appreciates anything I do.”

Bar’s lips curl into a smirk. “I wonder why.”

They turn to look at Snart again. There’s no doubt that he hadn’t averted his eyes for a single moment, the position still the very same as before. But he’s returning the smirk now, one corner of his mouth turning up and his eyes getting smaller. It’s a good look, really. “Cocky, hm?”

“Sometimes.”, Bar replies. They nod towards the others. “They’re a mess, aren’t they?”

“We knew that before.”, Snart tells them. Bar can’t quite deny that fact. “Is that the reason why you pulled yourself out of everything?”

It’s easy to talk to Snart, somehow. Bar would have thought it to be different now that they’re around people they know, different from their talk in the library or the dinner they shared, but it isn’t. Snart’s not pressing for answers - generally, if he asks about anything, he seems to really be interested. So Bar finds themself nodding. “I’m not really good with numbers of people. Anxiety, you know? I thought twelve would be manageable but well…”

“They’re a mess.”, Snart echos.

Bar chuckles. They turn a bit so that they’re properly facing Snart now, making their legs touch slightly.

“We could get out of here,” Snart suggest. His smile has faltered earlier and he sounds serious, but Bar can see a glim in his eyes.

They lean their head against the wall, still looking at Snart. “Later.”, they say, promising.

Snart nods. “I’m a patient man.”

“Are you?”

“Prison does that to you.”, Snart says earnestly.

“You spent half a year in juvie.”, Bar points out. They don’t know what it’s like there, but it’s probably not as bad as a real prison - that one he knows, of course. Prison may not be the same as centuries ago where you weren’t allowed to do anything but sit in your cell, but all those walks in the yard and work you may do don’t really help make the time fly by.

“Hm,” Snarts makes. He leans forward, another smirk on his lips, and stage-whispers, “Maybe I’m not that patient after all, then.”

Bar finds themself humming as they watch him lick his lips. Snart’s still holding eye contact, they notice when they tear their own from his lips. And then, everything happens fast and slowly at the same time.

It’s as if the noises around them get turned down as they move towards each other. The music Oliver’s put on after everyone stated their names, the conversations, everything fades as the two of them move towards each other. It’s the first time that Bar kisses a man, they’re aware of the fact, but it doesn’t make them any more nervous than they already are. They’ve expected Snart’s lips to be rough, but there’s nothing about this kiss that’s not soft - as if both of them were careful; though Bar suspects they’re having different reasons for that.

There’s no push and pull, they’re moving together as if that’s all they’re made for. And yet, it’s not even a long kiss because Snart pulls away when Bar tries to open his lips with their tongue.

Bar’s eyes are open wide when they pull away, confused as to whether they’ve understood the whole thing wrong. Seeing Snart’s smile pushes that thought away, though, and the hand he puts on Bar’s knee feels more reassuring than anything.

Bar can’t rip their eyes of Snart’s face, of his lips, even as he moves. A few seconds later, Snart has turned so that both his legs are dangling off the table as well and they sit properly next to each other. Then, he lifts his hand again, moving it against Bar’s chin and suddenly they’re only inches apart again.

“Would’ve gotten rather uncomfy.”, he says matter-of-factly and Bar nods, their eyes flickering down again. Then, Snart chuckles. “And people call me eager.”

“Shut up,” is all Bar replies before moving forward again.

Chapter Text

Linda guesses that Mick is quite more talkative than he lets on. The few times that he actually contributes to the group chat, he usually replies to someone else. And usually those replies are of a shorter nature. In real life, he seems to keep to himself, too, but apparently it’s something different when he has the option of bitching about Snart. In a group, however, (proven by the times that their club has met up) Mick is like a background figure who just grunts and mumbles at the others’ words, letting things happen to him as if he’d been forced to appear.

But then again, he’s quite a source of comical gold - those casual, off-hand comments really season a conversation, so that’s why Linda finds herself sitting in front of Jitters with two coffees to go in her hands and waiting for the big guy.

It doesn’t take long until he shows up, a paper bag from Big Belly Burgers in his hand, and flops down next to her. “Want one? Just don’t take the vegs,” he says in between bites of his own burger, holding up the bag.

Linda grins and reaches for it. There’s quite a collection of things in there - fries, several burgers and seemingly a bit of everything else that the restaurant has to offer. Her initial confusion subsides, though, considering that Mick really is a big guy who probably needs as many calories.

Still, while grabbing a burger herself, she comments, “Snart got you starving or what?”

Mick grunts. “You got no idea. That’s the first meat I got in days .”

“Gotta fill up your guys’ fridge, then?”, she answers dryly before biting into her own burger. “How do you even pay for everything?”

“State.”, Mick says. He reaches for the untouched coffee cup and raises it in thanks. “Not much, of course, but it’s fine. Though I suppose we gotta look for jobs soon.”

“D’you mean proper jobs or heists?”, Linda raises her brows.

Mick smirks. “Whatcha think?”

Linda rolls her eyes, even though she really doesn’t know what to think. She doesn’t think that the small thefts they have done makes them bad guys - despite their hard exterior, both Mick and Snart seem nice enough, just a little fucked up at most. She supposes that if Snart really likes Bar (which he better does for his own sake) he wouldn’t fall back into old habits. Joe would probably cut off his balls if he did.

Of course, what goes for Snart doesn’t necessarily go for Mick, and while the former seems to be the head of their operations, Linda doesn’t doubt that Mick could do jobs on his own. But still, if he’s got the option to do otherwise…

“Y’know, love the guy, really, but hell , having him ‘round all the time’s fucking annoying.”, Mick mumbles. “Coulda think I was Lisa.”

“Who’s Lisa?”

“His sister.”, he frowns. “She’s, like, everything to Lenny, so you better watch what you say about siblings around him.”

“Gotcha.”

They’re silent for a few minutes while they eat their burgers, takings sips of their coffees every now and then.

“Is living with him really that awful?”, Linda wants to know at one point. She can only imagine how annoying it could get to share that a small living space with someone else - it’s bound to get suffocating, no matter how much you like them. And, she supposes, it must remind them of their time in prison.

“Nah,” Mick says. “Gets a bit much, ‘course, but during the day we can leave anyways.” He reaches down and pulls up the leg of his jeans a bit, revealing an ankle monitor. “Just not the city.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”, Linda agrees. She doesn’t know for how long those restrictions are active and, somehow, she doesn’t really feel like it’s her place to ask. At least not right now. Maybe Mick won’t be allowed to do what he wants for years and while he seems pretty chill right now, being reminded of that could piss him off. She wouldn’t want to upset him - not just because she supposes Mick could get really scary but because they’re friends, too, aren’t they?

“You’ve known Iris before the chat, right?”, Mick says, seemingly out of nowhere. He continues when she nods. “And the detective?”

“Knew him first, actually. I’ve been over at the station a few times to practice interviews.”, Linda shrugs. “Why?”

“Just cause. Some shitty cops out there.”, he says thoughtfully. For some reason, Linda feels like he has a specific one in mind.

“Yeah. Don’t gotta tell me, I watch the news.”, she says. “Joe’s alright, though. And as long as Snart doesn’t pull Bar into any shit…”

“Y’know,” Mick says, “Few weeks ago I would have said he’s gonna do it just outta spite, but y’all really made him turn over a new leaf. Not entirely, ‘course, guy’s still a bastard, but a bit.”

Linda finds herself grinning. There’s fondness in Mick’s voice as he says that, and not only directed at Snart, so she asks, “What about you? Feel like a part of our happy family, too?”

“Suppose it's not bad knowing people who won't stab you if you turned your back the wrong way.”, Mick replies with a shrug.

Linda raises an eyebrow. “I thought your jobs weren’t that --”, she trails off, searching for a fitting word. She has no doubt that either of them would back down from beating up people, but it’s not like they got involved with the mafia, is it?

“Nah,” Mick agrees. “Didn’t kill anyone.”, he says and Linda kind of hopes she’s just imagining the missing ‘yet’. “But well… You know how I met Len?”

“Juvie, right?”, she guesses. Snart’d said so and she’s thought they’ve been cellmates or something.

Mick nods. “Idiot nearly got himself killed.”, he tells. “See, Len’s never learnt to shut up the big mouth of his - well, except… Anyway, saw that scrawny kid pick a fight he’d never have won. Guy had a shiv.”

“What’s that?”, Linda wants to know. It may be the journalist in her, but she finds herself actually curious about where this story is going. So Mick had saved Snart’s life? It makes sense, of course, because she couldn’t imagine any other way how they could’ve started hanging out.

“Small knife, basically. So yeah, stabbing’s definitely a thing.” He sounds casual as he says that and Linda thinks that’s not an act - it really is normal for him. “Though not with you wankers, maybe.”

Linda shrugs. “Eddie’s trained to be a cop, Iris and Bar know at least some moves and I bet my ass Sara could actually cut off special bodyparts.”

“Not a quiet second, huh?”, Mick grins. “Wouldn’t have guessed y’all to be this fucked up.”

“We try.”, Linda smiles along. And exactly that may be proof of just how fucked it is - sitting there with a criminal who has no problem with hurting people badly, as it appears, and laughing about their friends.

Chapter Text

Snart’s drying his hands on his jeans before ringing the doorbell. Usually, he doesn’t get nervous. He’s had enough in his life going on to keep a clear mind, no matter what the world throws at him, and react appropriately. But this is about Lisa and if there’s anyone he cares enough so much that he’d forget about everything, it’s her. (He supposed Mick, too, to a degree, but he knows the guy can look after himself enough that he won’t go full berserker to get him out of whatever he’s gotten into. Lisa, however, he still thinks of like she’s 5, not able to defend herself…)

He gives his best polite smile when the door opens, hoping it seems genuine rather than fake. “Hello, Detective West.”

His newly acquired friends may expect him to be scared of Joe West, but it’s been a long time since he really feared anyone. Cops in particularly usually don’t make him feel anything but anger. But he’s seen through Detective West from the start and since he’s proposed that he and Mick get another chance after their last stunt, he’s come to actually respect the man. And on top of that, he knows first-hand that he can’t be too awful when he’s raised two great kids.

West blinks at him. Then he presses his lips together. “Barry’s not here.”

Snart looks up at him, the slight height difference they have increased because he’s stepped down the one step after ringing. He’s learnt that sometimes, making yourself seem smaller (and thus weaker) is better for the result. “I know. Actually, I... I wanted to talk to you, sir.”

“To me?”, West repeats, huffing.

“In fact, I’ve come to ask a favour.”, Snart says sheepishly - if faked or not, he can’t tell himself. “Don’t worry, it’s not about Barry.”

That seems to satisfy him somewhat. The older man raises an eyebrow but steps back, opening the door a bit more. Understanding the invitation, Snart steps up and nods at him curtly before stepping inside.

The detective leads him into the dining room, the same way Iris has done the first time that he’d showed up here, and a small part of his brain wants to smile at that resemblance. Snart leans against the table, his eyes still fixed on West. It’s the same the other way around.

“You want anything to drink?”, West prompts.

Snart hesitates. He usually knows how to react to that question. Accept the rich woman’s invitation for a drink, make her chatty so that you can steal the expensive ring off her finger. But not only is he not here to steal, but to beg for something. Plus, West would guess that’s his way of getting close to people.

Then again, he’s still the foster dad of the person Snart’s dating, so it could also be a test on his manners. Being earnest is harder than he’d thought.

“Um, a water would be great.”

West nods and - much to Snart’s surprise - leaves the room. He’d have expected to be ordered to go with at least, so that he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on anything. But maybe he’s not as much on the bottom of the list as he’d thought.

“Sit down.”, West says when he comes back, putting a glass down on the table and choosing the chair at the head of it for himself. His voice isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s warmer than the last time they’ve spoken.

Snart follows suit and sinks down on the one that’s been picked for him - right next to the detective. He can’t really stop himself from gulping, as much as he’d hate to admit it.

“I’m not going to make smalltalk.”, West announces. Snart’s quite alright with that, seeing how he wouldn’t even know what they could talk about (‘Oh yes, really, sir. Barry’s got a great mouth, you know?’). “What’s that favour?”

“My sister turns 18 next week, meaning she’ll get to leave her foster family--”, he looks down shortly, figuring that West might not understand that not every foster family has a bond similar to his own, “I’d like to visit her. Get her back home.”

There’s something on West’s face that changes. Only slightly so, but his features soften and he sighs. “You can’t leave the city.”

“I’m not planning a heist.”, Snart says honestly. “I’ll take the train to Opal City, you can keep an eye on me via surveillance.”

“You have rules to follow. You can already be happy you’re not back to prison.”

“I know. I am.”, he nods. “Look, you know our situation--”

“Snart, this is not up to me--”

“I don’t want pity.”, he states. “Just a little trust.”

They keep holding each other’s glances, neither of them willing to back down. From what he’s gathered, Snart’s sure that the detective is actually thinking about it. He’s a family guy through and through and he should have checked on his background. Hell, West may know more about Lewis Snart than he does himself.

West opens his mouth, probably to deny his request. He may have good connections with the captain, Bar has told him (it has explained how they actually went through with Joe’s suggestion that he and Mick go to college), but there’s ends to all things. And West probably is still pissed about him dating Bar.

Before he gets out a single word, though, the front door opens. There’s a sound of keys jingling and both of them move back. Snart hadn’t even realized they’d both leaned forward during their talk.

“Dad, you home?”

Somehow, Snart hadn’t expected either of West’s kids to come home. He knows that Bar’s stuck at the lab, they've said so when they parted way earlier, and that Wally - the youngest - never comes home before 4pm. And last he’d seen, Iris had been wrapped up (probably literally) in Eddie. But apparently, she hadn’t been so determined to stay there the whole day.

West clears his throat before calling back, “Yeah, baby, I’m in the dining room!” His eyes dart from Snart to the direction of the hall.

Before he knows it, Snart’s on the verge of a grin, so he grabs his glass, trying to hide it. Iris starts talking before she enters the room, something about someone called Fred, but as soon as she comes around the corner and her eyes fall on him, she stops.

At her surprised face, Snart really can’t help but chuckle. “Hello,” he says cheerfully and raises his glass.

“Iris, you know Leonard Snart?”, the detective says in a way of introduction.

Iris blinks, still shocked. “Uh, yeah, we’ve met a few times since Bar and him--” So close to being a lie and yet so far; they really have only met in person after Bar and him .

“Great.”, West nods. “He’ll stay for dinner tonight.”

At that point, Snart realizes, he might be truly and utterly fucked.

Chapter Text

Ronnie should have known something is wrong. Right from the start of their conversation, Cisco had sounded way too cheerful - as if he’d done it on purpose. Xe had figured that maybe that’s been exactly it: that he’s tried to make his family meeting sound better than it is.

But then again, xe should have realized it’s something different, because Cisco’s never downplayed the discomfort he’s had, no matter the situation. Xe should have realized because xe knows him. Xe knows that his favourite character of all time is Billy Kaplan, despite the guy’s fucked up soul-wandering upbringing - simply because “he’s a cool Jewish wizard guy with a shape-shifting boyfriend, it’s the fucking dream, Ronnie!” Xe knows that Cisco needs something to chew at all times or else he’d get a headache; the cause of the big candy storage in his bag and the reason for him grinding his teeth at night.

So technically, it shouldn’t be a surprise when Cisco says, “You know, I’ve been thinking. … About us.”

The thing is: Ronnie knows Cisco’s not good with sharing. Not out of selfish reasons, but because his parents have always favoured his brother Dante. Cisco’s had to savour everything he’s gotten to himself - which has developed into a habit he can’t just put down.

“No good conversation ever starts like that.”, Ronnie tells him, coughing to get rid off the feeling clocking xyr throat.

Xe should have known right from the start that it would end like this. The way Cisco would go silent when xe and Caitlin had a moment. The fact that Cisco insisted on keeping his own flat rather than for them all to go looking for a bigger one together. In the end, they’d agreed it’d work the best: Ronnie and Caitlin each had their own room to retreat to in their flat and Cisco had his to go to when he needed silence; on most days they were at the bigger flat together so it didn’t matter.

But actually, it has mattered and xe should have realized. It should have been obvious that in the end, Cisco wasn’t made for a poly relationship. Maybe he hadn’t even understood it himself, fully indulged in the feelings he had for Ronnie and the strong friendship he’d developed with Caitlin.

But now he has gotten to the point. But even more so, Ronnie notices, because Cisco says, “I loved you so much -- I still do, I do,” and there’s a slight satisfaction spreading across Ronnie’s chest when xe realize he’s about to cry, too (the next moment xe feel disgusted by that), “but… it’s just not enough.”

And despite all, Ronnie knows Cisco. Xe knows there’s something underlying in the words and right now, xe doesn’t care if it’s the right moment.

“You like someone else, don’t you?” He hesitates, and that would be enough of an answer for Ronnie, but as xe feels the burn in xyr eyes, xe asks again, “Who is it?”

There’s a sniff on the other end of the line and Ronnie can see Cisco’s lips tremble in front of xyr inner eye. “I didn’t want to do it like this, I meant to talk to you in person, be brave… But then I realized I wouldn’t go through with it because I hadn’t been able to do it before--”

“‘Sco--”

“See, it’s been on my mind for longer, it’s not because I now--”

“Cisco, just tell me if I know him.”, Ronnie says and closes xyr eyes, taking in a deep breath.

“Yeah, you do.”, he says. A deep breath and then, “It’s… Hartley.”

“Hartley?”, Ronnie repeats, suddenly laughing. “Cisco, you hate him.”

“I… might not. Not any more.”, Cisco says slowly. Ronnie realizes, it’s fucked up. Xe shouldn’t be asking this, xe should be more angry that he’d start to like someone else, but it’s almost ridiculous. “He was… kind of sweet when he stayed at my place. I don’t know--”

“‘Sco,” Ronnie says again and because xe still cares about him, so so much, xe tells him, “You can’t just judge him for what he did during a hard time. He might still be an asshole to y--”

“You know, I know that. I know he hates me and that I shouldn’t like him, but I do. And I thought it--”, this time Cisco is the one to cough, “it would be fairer if I was honest with you. I-- like I said, it’s not just because of… I haven’t been completely happy in a few months.”

“You should have told me, Cisco. We could have fixed this.”, Ronnie insists, shaking xyr head. Xe knows that no, they couldn’t have, because in the end, Cisco doesn’t even share his Xena boxset.

“We couldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Ronnie feels like xyr heart literally is parting into million sharp pieces.

Chapter Text

Cisco doesn’t really remember the first time he’s met Hartley. Hell, he doubts he’s even ever noticed the guy’s existence before their chemistry teacher practically made them enemies. But when Stein had first pointed out there are two students in the class who almost always got perfect scores, Cisco has first noticed the lanky nerd in first row.

Thirteen year old Hartley didn’t look so different from his six-years-older counterpart. With the time, he’s grown into his limbs, his face got more defined and he got a better haircut (Cisco can admit that, there’s only improvement when you start with a bowl cut). But then again, he still wears his huge glasses and ridiculously plain outfits. He’s still as committed to his studies, and, of course, to driving Cisco up a wall.

That’s the only explanation as to why he’s standing in front of his door again, after the messed-up confession Cisco had made.

“Cisco, come on, open up!”, Hartley calls, knocking against the door. “I’ll fucking stay here, I swear!”

Even though he won't hear it, Cisco can't help but snort at that empty threat. He knows that there's nothing more important to Hartley than his education and since their physics class with Wells (undoubtedly Hartley’s favourite) takes place tomorrow, there's a limit to him staying here. He, Cisco, would stay at home without any regrets, really.

Of course, he can't avoid Hartley forever - but he thinks he deserves more than two days before the infamous “no, we’re better as friends”-speech (which is bullshit, because they've never been friends to begin with). There's nothing else he could possibly want to say, is there? Maybe that the others annoy him about this whole thing and Cisco needs to shut them up.

Cisco hears a huff and then a movement against the door. Hartley’s probably turned to lean against it, actually thinking he'd last longer than 10 minutes in waiting for him to open the door.

Cisco decides that it's probably best to pretend like there's nobody outside. He still has to finish his essay anyway. And for that he's gonna blast his music, sue him.

“You do know that horrible music can't scare me away, right?”, Hartley all but yells over the sound of Taylor Swift, “I could just take out my aids.”

Cisco huffs, stopping himself from replying that Hartley wouldn't be able to hear whether he responds then. Yeah, it's ironic.

But really, what's he supposed to do? It's not like he's chosen to get a freaking crush on a guy who's hated him for years. Or to let the guy know about that when they'd noticed that oh , that tension between them can lead to things other than arguments.

And most of all, he really hasn't chosen to be not only turned down by him, but to have him rush from the apartment, too.

When did he even stop hating Hartley? Sure, he’s noticed that his own replies lacked venom after they graduated High School, but he figured it’s just been growing up on his part - that feud really did get ridiculous; it’s just been about grades, in the end. Instead, he’s also started not to take Hartley’s jabs too seriously but softly rolled his eyes at them. He doubts he’s already had feelings for the other back then, otherwise he wouldn’t have started dating Ronnie. He may have no problem with his boyfriend having multiple partners, but that’s nothing for him. No, Cisco is more of a all-or-nothing kind of guy, so he really can’t have felt anything other than a lowkey dislike for Hartley during their first year of college.

It’s come slightly and slowly, sneaking up on him until he finally realized that talking to Hartley can’t be all that bad. That the guy looks kind of cute in his glasses, and not just ridiculous. That, and that’s something Cisco has noticed when Hartley spent the night at his place after his parents disowned him, their bodies don’t even feel awkward curled around another. (It’s also the time he learnt that Hartley seems to absorb heat in any way.)

Breaking up with Ronnie is something he’s felt in his bones for months before that, but only really realized when, yes , he fucking fell for Hartley Rathaway. And when he got around to tell him that, the guy in question bolted from his apartment. Cisco’s hoped he wouldn’t have to face him for at least a week, and that he wouldn’t have to talk for him for more than a month. Because he’s actually quite good at avoiding people when he wants to.

But now that Hartley’s back, it's not as easy to ignore him. Cisco's mind moves from the words on the page in front of him to the door, wondering what Hartley is doing. It also doesn't help that the guy won't shut up, pleading again and again that Cisco should open up.

Though he only really listens when there is another voice, sounding like it's from farther away so Cisco turns down his music a little.

“Hartley,” Axel purrs, a drawl in his voice that's unfamiliar to Cisco. He only knows him annoyed or downright mean. “What a surprise.”

“Fuck off, Axel. I'm not here for you.” Hartley’s reply is immediate.

“Sleeping with neighbours now?”

With all their arguments, Cisco's never heard Hartley sound that cold. “What's it to you?”

“Not much, just thought you were gay.”

“Well, yeah, you're not mistaken.”

Cisco closes his eyes, fully aware of what's to come. He shouldn't even be surprised with how much of an asshole Axel is, but he feels a stab in his chest nonetheless.

“Well, it’s just that Ramon’s--”

Apparently Hartley’s sensing what's to come, too, because the next thing Cisco hears must be a fist fight. Either that or they've decided to make out over the fact they both hate him. There's thuds against the walls and groans.

After a few moments that have Cisco frozen (what would he see if he went to look?) there's the sound of a door slamming and then, after more seconds that Cisco keeps listening, he hears Hartley groaning once more.

“Fucking son of a bitch!”

At that, Cisco finally opens the door. He finds Hartley leaning against the wall next to it, his hair ruffled, glasses askew and a hand clutching his stomach. He breathing heavily but the look he gives Axel's door is full of venom.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”, Cisco states and steps closer to him. “How do you think you can win a fight?”

“He's a transphobic piece of shit.”, Hartley replies as if that answers everything. He pushes himself off the wall, hand still holding onto his stomach.

Cisco grabs his other wrist. “Come on, I'll give you something to cool it.”

The response is a shake of his head, but he doesn't fight Cisco's pull. “I slept with a transphobic ass.”

Cisco lets go off him again when they're in the kitchen. As he rummages through the fridge, he says, “You didn't know. Hell, I didn't know. Thought he just didn't like me as a person and that's it…”

Hartley accepts the bag of peas and holds it against his split lip, flinching at the feel. Cisco steps back again. He may not want Hartley to be in pain because of him, but he also doesn’t feel like even being in the same room as him. Hartley doesn’t seem to notice, though, because he starts, “Shit, Cisco, you can't stay here. He's dangerous!”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”, Cisco laughs. “Go and live in the same house as you?”

“Cisco…” Hartley puts the bag down again.

“That’s not happening.”, Cisco continues. “You may think it's cool and all, but it's-- no, not for me--”

“Cisco.”, Hartley says again and suddenly they're only inches apart. “What do you think why I'm here?”

“So that I tell the others to leave you alone?”, he prompts.

“Fucking unbelievable.”, Hartley chuckles. Slowly he lifts his hand, as if Cisco were a deer that's easily frightened, and puts it on the back of his head. “But that's you, I guess.”

There’s a small smile on his face, making the split in his lip crack open further, but it doesn’t bleed. So close, Cisco can also see that his cheekbone is red, too, probably already about to bruise, and he wants to tell him to cool that one, too. But Hartley’s already let go of the bag of peas, instead holding on to him and Cisco is confused--

The next moment their mouths crush together. Lips against lips, teeth against teeth, chin against chin. Hartley’s pulling him closer and closer until Cisco's on his tiptoes when he pulls away.

“I-- what?”, he breathes. “You don't need to--”

“I want to.”

“But when we-- when I--”

“I was stupid.”, Hartley says, breathing as heavily as him. He lets go off the back of Cisco’s head, instead moving his hand so that he cups his cheek, stroking his thumb over it.

“Those words out of your mouth.”, Cisco can't help but say. It’s ridiculous, that he’s standing here with his hands on Hartley’s hips, wanting to press against him again when only moments ago he’s wished the guy would disappear. “I feel like we need to talk.”

Hartley blinks. “Later? There's, uh, something else I'd rather do right now.”

Cisco hesitates. They've been there before, even further, and it's not ended well the last time. But then, there's never been the promise of a conversation before.

So, in response, he pulls Hartley down again.

“Bedroom?” A mumble against his lips.

Cisco nods, pushing against him so that they move , and Hartley pulls at him, his hands suddenly everywhere - his shoulders, his hips, his arms, his hands -, and kissing him as if any separation may hurt.

The next moment, Cisco's pushed him onto the bed. Their lips are never parting, not even when he climbs on top of Hartley.

But then he feels something and sits up, straddling Hartley’s hips. “Hm, I'm having a déjà vu to the first time this happened, you too?”

Hartley groans at the pressure. “Hnng, that wasn't--”, he starts but cuts himself off by leaning up and kissing Cisco again.

“No, wait--”, Cisco mumbles, “I want to hear that. You had a boner for me before?” He remembers clearly how that's happened when they had their pillow fight, the start of this all, and how embarrassed and shocked Hartley had been. There's no way--

“Hm, yeah.”

“Since when?”

Hartley groans - this time in annoyance - and lets his head fall back onto the mattress.

“Hartley.” Cisco shifts his weight.

“Oh, fuck-- ”, he moans. “Freshman year, okay?”

“Two years?”

A pause. Then, “High School.”

“ What the fuck ?”, Cisco shrieks, “I didn't even look like a boy yet--”

“You were boy enough, trust me.”, Hartley says seriously. “The first.”

“Holy shit . Why didn't you say anything?”

“My guess is 'repressed feelings’ but maybe we should have Iris psychoanalyse me?”, Hartley offers dryly. “Didn't we agree to talk later?”

“You can't just drop such news and--”

“Cisco, my dick is pressed against your ass, I'd rather do something about it.”

Cisco laughs. “Okay, fair.”

Chapter Text

Tommy’s life hasn’t been normal since his mother died - well, if it’s been normal before, he wouldn’t dare to judge. After all, he’s the son of a cold billionaire who likes to disappear for months at a time. Really, the simplest (which, considering how crazy they’d been about Laurel at a point, says a lot) and most childish thing he’s had in his life was his friendship with Oliver. Still is, to an extent, but ever since the guy came up with this groupchat of his, it’s gotten really crazy.

Not that he wouldn’t support Oliver no matter what he did - hell, he loves the guy more than anyone - but it’s gotten rather annoying when he started to have his phone in his hands at all times (even more so than Felicity, who is the real tech freak here). And then he’d given shelter to the Rathaway kid who wouldn’t shut up about being horny and generally is quite … exhausting, to put it mildly. And ever since then, Tommy hasn’t had a calm day at home. He’s gotten woken up by visitors for the past weeks almost every day, which is kinda awful considering he works at night.

It’s not that he hates Oliver’s new friends. Hartley is quite okay, actually, and while they bring chaos with themselves, so are the others. Tommy finds himself smirking along to their jokes more often than he’d like to admit.

And then, of course, they’ve undoubtedly helped Oliver to come to terms with himself. If he’d ever actually admitted being attracted to men if he hadn’t spent so much time surrounded with people who are, Tommy doesn’t know, but he’s glad for that. It’s no secret Oliver had been curious about the same sex - hell, they’ve both been (hence that one time they’d had together) but it’s stayed the same for Oliver, he’d noticed.

Now that he’s been outed on local TV, however, Tommy wonders if it’s been that a great idea. He doesn’t think that Moira would really approve of it, especially since she’s been so eager to have a press conference about this as soon as possible, but he knows that Oliver is not a coward. Now that there’s already focus on it, he won’t deny it. And judging by the fact that he’s insisted on taking Hartley with him (along Dig and Laurel, who is pretty much his lawyer nowadays anyway), Tommy’d guess he’s actually planning something.

Turning on the TV’s browser, he notices that in all the rush Oliver’s left his phone on the table. A part of him wonders if it’s an violation of privacy, but then again he pretty much knows about everything that happens in that chat already anyways (and as it seems, they do in return, too). So he picks it up and tells them to put on Queen Consolidated’s website - even if he doesn’t know about it, Oliver’d probably appreciate his friends watching it.

Tommy actually chats a bit with them - there’s still time till the conference starts - and finds himself chuckling more often than he’d like to admit. They seem like a random bunch of people (he’s never met all of them at the same time and judging by the headache he already got when five of them were in the same place, he’s quite thankful for that) who are unable to stay serious, but maybe it’s for the better sometimes. They remind him of what he and Oliver have been like as teenagers, ruthless and wild until life got in the way - noticing Thea’s addiction had taken a toll on all of them, and while she’s gotten better, and then they’ve all gotten better, Oliver’s lost lots of his old self. If they help him open up more again, Tommy’ll be more than happy to accept the chaos even into his own life.

Seeing Moira on screen gives him a funny feeling in his stomach - something he’s gotten used to lately. It’s still weird to think that she’s been the one his father had eventually turned to after his mother’s death, and that she’s the mum of his actual sister. But she’s also the mum of the most important person in his life, of his brother in all but blood, and she’s also the one who he’d gone to after nightmares when he spent month after month at the Queens’. He should have positive feelings for her, lots of them, but all the secrets have changed it somewhat.

And seeing her all serious about her son’s coming-out is another thing he’s not so sure about.

“... concerning my son Oliver. Naturally, it is not my place to speak about this. I hope you will all patiently hear him out.”, Moira finishes her introduction and extends an arm towards the side of the stage, indicating for Oliver to come up. “Go ahead, darling.”

Oliver looks cheerful as ever when he appears behind the microphones. Of course, he’s been trained for that since he was a child (they’ve all been - him, Tommy and Thea) because that’s what you’re requested to be skilled at when your parents own a big company. Oliver’s smiling into the cameras, nodding at certain journalists, before finally setting his eyes on QC’s own.

Tommy ignores the chat for the time being (a look at the phone tells him that Oliver in a suit seems to push everyone’s buttons, apparently) and focuses on his best friend’s words instead.

“Thank you all for coming.”, Oliver starts, still smiling. “As my mother has said, today’s conference focuses on certain rumours that have come up concerning my personal life. Whoever has brought them on,” Tommy finds himself frowning at Oliver’s unwillingness to throw that Adrian guy under the bus, “probably has come up with them because I’ve been engaging in the recently-founded LGBT club of the CCC.

“In fact, I’ve actually pushed for it to exist. The lack of such a support system at one of the State’s biggest colleges has been shocking.”

There’s a few camera flashes going off, but nothing more. After all, the journalists are only present to get an answer about Oliver himself, not the circumstances of why the news even came to be. The groupchat agrees with Oliver’s words, of course, and Linda seems impressed at how eloquent Oliver can be. Tommy types out a short answer agreeing with her only in teasing - he, of course, knows about it already.

“Me in particular it’s concerned because I’ve felt myself drawn to the community for quite a while already.”

At that, the lights finally begin to go crazy. Moira, who’s still standing on the stage, just more in the background, actually looks like a fish with the way she gapes and Tommy can’t help but laugh at that. He doesn’t think that she’d have such a firm reaction as Hartley’s parents - she’s not homophobic, per se, but it’s another thing if your own son likes men.

Oliver acts like he doesn’t notice anyone’s reactions but continues. “However, what those rumours say about me is wrong. While it is true that I came to the realization that I like both men and women, I do not identify as bisexual. In fact, there’s a broad range of terms that refer to the attraction to multiple genders, but none of them work for me. For now I’m just going with ‘queer’.”

Tommy knows Oliver, probably better than himself, so he doesn’t miss the small sigh he leaves out once those words are out. It’s not the first time that Oliver’s come out - years ago to him with the possibility of liking men, then again once he’s actually come to terms with it, and of course to the groupchat - but it’s the biggest one. Not many people actually watch the company’s livestreams, and certainly not about personal things, but there’s no doubt this will be all over the news tomorrow. It’s not something Oliver will be ashamed of, of course, not like the things he’s found himself confronted with in the past, but still it’s… huge. He must have dreaded doing this and now that it’s finally out, Oliver looks like a weight’s fallen off his shoulder.

The next moment, he frowns, though, and before Tommy can even start feeling concerned, Oliver adds, “That being sad, I’m still very much in love with my girlfriend.”

That earns him quite a few laughters from the journalists. Tommy doesn’t know if it’s just Oliver making sure there won’t be new rumours or if it’s him reassuring Felicity, but it’s kind of cute.

There’s some more cameras going off, and Tommy can see people pushing forward their microphones, but Oliver ignores them in favour of talking again. “Now that we’re past that, however, I’d like to shift the conversation a little. First, let me introduce you to a friend of mine.”

He looks to the side, saying something to someone off-screen, and Tommy feels the phone go off with more and more messages. He knows that Hartley is with Oliver, of course, and he’d thought the others knew about that, too, but when he appears on the stage, they’re all quite confused. Tommy tells them that he doesn’t know what this is about either.

Oliver pushes Hartley to the front rather than using the microphone himself again and with the way he holds himself, Tommy remembers that the guy must have had quite a similar upbringing than them. He looks kind of ridiculous next to Oliver, not just because he’s so much more petite, but because he’s wearing an old shirt that’s been missing from Tommy’s wardrobe for quite a while now. It’s a little too big on him, but still the best he could do, considering Dig and Oliver both are bigger than him.

Hartley nods at the journalists similarly to the way Oliver had done before, his shoulders back and a serious expression on his face. He starts smirking slightly once he talks, though. “I’m Hartley, a few of you will know me as the son of Rachel and Osgood Rathaway -- well, I’d be if they hadn’t disowned me just a few weeks ago. Simply for being gay.”

The reactions of the reporters are pretty much the same as Tommy’s own. There’s an uproar in their movements, camera’s flashing again and microphones pushing forward. Oliver’s phone is buzzing more than before and Tommy realizes that his friends know, despite not being quite of their world, what a big thing this is. Because it’s one thing to introduce yourself as the gay son of well-known people. It’s another to say they don’t approve of you. It’s a big ‘fuck you’ sent into their direction, something that will cause lots of trouble. It explains Hartley’s smirk.

And shit, if that isn’t clever.

“See, I’ve never made a secret of my sexuality. That is, as far as my parents wouldn’t know.”, Hartley continues. “It didn’t come as quite a surprise that they did what they did as soon as I was outed; they’ve always been rather open about their beliefs. And yet, it’s been for the better that only a few weeks before that I’ve made friends who’d been willing to take me in.

“Basical strangers who treated me better than my family - thanks to the club Oliver has founded.”

He looks back at Oliver, who steps forward and puts a hand on his shoulder. They nod at each other before Hartley steps to the side, making the table free for Oliver to continue whatever he wanted to say.

“Hartley’s just an example of what can happen to people in a homophobic environment -- a lot of times, there’s actual physical abuse they must fear, among other serious difficulties. To help them get out of those, I’m building a project to offer emotional and financial support. Within the next week, helplines will be erected.”, Oliver announces. “Further information will be put online soon. I really do hope we can help those in the needs of it.”

There’s people surging forward again, meaning to ask questions, but Oliver shakes his head. “Thank you for your time.”, he says and then grabs a hold of Hartley’s arm, making their way off the stage.

Tommy keeps staring at the screen even after the stream ended, only looking at the phone in his hands a few times to see what the others think. He’s got no idea when Oliver thought of all this but damn , if that isn’t a thing to be proud of. It feels like they’re really growing up - and actually fitting into the chaotic life they’ve got going on.

Chapter Text

“Hey Bar,” Len says into the telephone, his voice sounding so much unlike himself that Mick has to supress a groan. Honestly, the guy is so fucking gone for the Allen kid, it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even understand what the deal is about them. Like sure, once they get comfortable their jokes and teases can almost match his own, but still. Apparently, Len’s really going celibate for them, so there has to be something … “Mind if I call you back? I need to stop Lisa from murdering Mick.”

Mick huffs at those words. In fact, Lisa looks like she’d like to throw herself at him after he’d commented on her ideas for a Christmas dinner, but even in her angriest state she wouldn't be able to scrape his skin. The Old Guy may have taught them both some fucked up shit, but neither of the Snart siblings is really a killer. He doubts Lisa has ever even injured a person on purpose.

“Oh, detective .”, Len continues then, his voice slipping up a bit. Hell, he even sits up straight as if the guy were here to judge him. “Is everything alright with Barry, sir?”

It’s funny to see him look this obedient, so much that even Lisa puts down the knife she’d picked up and frowns at him. Of course, she knows what a puppy her brother can be, she is the one who manipulates him into this state most of the time, but it must be weird not to be the reason for once.

West replies something of a certain length and Len’s expression goes from concern to relief and then something almost unreadable. If Mick didn’t know any better, he’d guess it’s fear . Since when is Christmas the annual time of intimidation? From the talks about it, West has even supposedly took a liking to him, for some godforsaken reason.

“Uh, no, that’s right.”, Len says after a few moments. “Today? No, we hadn’t-- I mean, I could ask. ... Yes, sir.”

He covers the phone with his hand and looks between the two of them. Then he sighs, “What do you guys think about spending Christmas Eve at the Wests’?”

Mick crooks an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, you’re basically ordered and are a fucking coward.”

“No,” Len drawls, “We’re all invited. It would be rude to decline.”

“You’re such a fucking coward.”, Mick snorts. He can see how Len puts on an act, with the way he frowns and his voice gets even more nasal.

“Do we get food? Is it good?”, Lisa wants to know. They’d originally decided to just live off the loaf of bread in their cupboard today, seeing how she’d meant to cook only tomorrow. And since neither Mick nor Len had been sure how old that even is, eating something else seems like a good perspective.

Len shrugs. “Iris’s talked about some good eggnog, that much I know.”

“Huh,” Mick makes at that. He shares a look with Lisa who breaks into a grin. Then, turning to Len again, he nods curtly. “Yeah, let’s go there.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” Len rolls his eyes before putting the phone against his ear again. “We’ll come over. … Yeah, when? … Okay, yes, thank you for the invitation, sir.”

He hangs up quickly and throws evil glares at both of them, pressing his lips together. It doesn’t stop them from snickering, though, even when he swats against Mick’s head on his way to the wardrobe.

“Mick,” he calls as he pulls his sweater off his body, throwing it onto his bed. Mick knows that voice, it’s the one he uses when he’s actually pissed at him - and seeing how they still have to share that limited space, he really doesn’t want to have Len pissed at him -, so he sits up. “Put on something clean, will you?”

He does get up, but it doesn’t stop him from teasing. “Don’t want me to embarrass ya, huh?”

Len rolls his eyes and steps back, making room for Mick to get out his own clothes. “In case you forgot, West’s also the one responsible for you being here. If you piss him off, he could easily get you locked up after all.”

Mick scoffs while taking out another Henley. “Think I care?”

“Mick,” Len says again, this time not just threatening but almost… sounding whining, of course. Because Len’s the king of whining about random stuff.

And well, he’s quite good at that, Mick has to admit. He doesn’t know why Len suddenly acts like he cares about the world and the world cares about him, but Mick won’t let his own disinterest step inbetween that. After all, he’s known from the beginning that Len wouldn’t last long in a prison, so he’ll play nice if it keeps him out of one.

“Fine, I’ll behave.”, he mutters and turns to change.

From her place at the counter Lisa shakes her head with a chuckle. “You know, I’ve always waited for the heist where you two get married. But I guess Lenny’s too much in love to even fake-cheat on his Bar.”

“I’m not in love ,” Len insists, a little too fast and snippish to be real. He’s honestly so gone, Mick just can’t understand. “I hope you’ll behave yourself, too.”

“I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you, brother dear.”, Lisa says sweetly.

“Yeah,” Len says dryly, “Of course. We’re supposed to be there in half an hour and we still need to pick up some wine from the liquor store, so hurry up.”

*

They’ve made it to the Wests’ home within twenty minutes, thanks to the controlling nature of Len. He’d been so eager to be on time that he hadn’t even minded Mick speeding, despite his beloved sister sitting on the bike behind him. In any other moment he’d have enjoyed seeing Len and his long limbs be pressed into the small sidecar of the bike they’ve come to share, but the look he gives him when he takes down his helmet makes him close his mouth immediately.

Honestly, Mick guesses Len’s never been more thankful for his shaved head. The guy would probably explode if he were to face helmet hair in a moment like this.

He watches as Len switches the wine they’d bought (not the cheapest, but still in their price range - even the prospect of charming his future father-in-law doesn’t make him miscalculate their money) for the helmet Lisa hands him. It’s ridiculous how carefully he puts it into her hands, telling her with a single glance that he’ll never forgive her if she drops it. And then, as if it were normal, he just leans down to put the helmet away.

Lisa raises an eyebrow and turns to Mick, mouthing ‘ What the fuck? ’ at him. Mick just shrugs in return. How the hell should he know what kind of being stole Len’s skin?

They wait for Len to take the lead, seeing how he is the one who actually is invited (and probably also the one who actually wants to be there, for one reason or another). Mick can tell that Lisa is quite curious and excited to meet whoever has got her brother so whipped - meaning the detective, of course; she’s met Bar before and while she’d been quite enamoured by them, too, it’s West who makes him act like a dog. She almost jumps up and down as she walks towards the door next to him, her long hair moving behind her. Sometimes he can still see the little girl in her he’s met years ago.

Len wipes his hands on his jeans before ringing the bell. He’s actually fucking nervous. Mick can’t help but smirk at that. He wishes he had a proper phone with a camera that works within seconds instead of minutes so he could film it, but his memory will have to be enough for blackmailing material.

It takes only a few moments before Detective West himself opens the door, wearing a serious and yet not grim expression when he sees them. He waves Len closer and holds out his hand. “Son.”

“Sir,” Len replies, shaking the hand firmly.

“That your sister?”, West wants to know, looking Lisa up and down.

Before Len can reply, she jumps forward, shaking the Detective’s hand as well. “I’m Lisa! Nice to meet you.”

West looks a bit surprised at her cheerfulness, but he nods at her. When he releases her hand, he steps aside, letting them both in. And both of those traitors actually go without looking back at Mick once.

If anyone asks later on, he totally did not swallow when West narrowed his eyes at him. They shake hands as well, and the Detective just says, “Rory. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Detective.”, he replies, trying his best not to seem too tense. He doesn’t know why, but seeing West somehow makes him almost regret how he’s never listened to Len talk about him. After all, he really is the one who kept them out of prison, even though he had the chance and means to.

“Come in,” West says and waves him in, “You do know my kids as well, don’t you?”

“Two of them.”, Mick says quickly and walks inside. Looking at the check, he considers putting his jacket next to Len’s parka for a moment before deciding to keep it on for at least a few more minutes. It’s stupid, but he does feel better with the extra layer on.

West doesn’t mind him keeping it on but walks down the few steps into the living room. It looks comfy, with the couch and arm chair in front of the fireplace. And with Lisa standing there, chatting happily with Iris, he almost doesn’t feel like an intruder.

“I do hope y’all are not forgetting about the salad!”, West calls against another door.

A second later, Bar’s voice answers, sounding a bit hoarse. “No, of course not, Joe!”

West turns around, sharing a look with his daughter and they both start giggling (okay, Detective West giggles . That’s messed up.). “Bar’s so bad at that.”

“Yeah, I think they’re both just assuming we’re stupid.”, Iris agrees. Then she finally turns to the stairs, where Mick’s still standing. “Oh hey, what’s up?”

“Christmas.”, Mick grunts.

“Never asked - are you even religious? Or, well, Christian?”

At that, Mick finally enters the living room as well. It’s weird, but Iris acting like it’s normal for him to be there almost makes the whole thing normal. She’s got a kickass aura, in a way that she wouldn’t mind showing you when you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, so her approval is cool. He shakes his head at her question. “Haven’t celebrated it in years.”

“That’s sad.”, Iris says. “But hey, this year really’s got the spirit, huh? I mean, Tommy’s present was cool, wasn’t it?”

Mick shrugs. In fact, he’d spent an entire evening staring at the fire and wondering how it works - he is an expert on all things pyro, so it irks him not to understand it. “Haircut’s done an alright job, I guess.”

Iris’ lips twitch at the nickname, as if she knew something. And honestly, even if he did insist on it because Ray’s hair really nice to hold onto while fucking him into the mattress, why should he care if she knew? But his eyes dart over to where West is still standing between them and what’s presumably the kitchen door, and he scowls a bit.

Lisa pats his arm gently and smiles up at him. “I really loved the skates you got me. Now I don’t even have to pay a fee to borrow any when I wanna teach people a lesson.”

“Your brother would’ve given me the lecture of the century if I gifted you anything shit.”, he says dryly.

“Mick, you literally said you wanted to get her a good present.”, Len suddenly speaks up. He’s holding a bowl in his hands, walking to place them on the table behind them. He looks almost like he’s at home here.

“Yeah, because you would’ve given me the lecture of the century if I’d gifted her anything shit.”, Mick repeats.

Len scoffs at that. He comes down to them as well, taking a stance in the space between him and the Detective.

“What did you get again, Snart?”, Iris wants to know.

“I did get shit.”, Len says theatrically. “Have a billionaire pick my name and what do I get? Cookbooks.”

“At least they’re vegetarian.”, Lisa comments.

“Vegan even.”, Len corrects her. He wears a small smile because he hadn’t actually expected a big present. Hell, for Len it’s already been much when Mick gave him half a pack of cigarettes for his birthday one year. Surprisingly, when it comes to things like this he isn’t a man of great expectations.

Mick’s already mentally preparing himself for a continuation of this discussion of presents - honestly he’s already forgotten who gave whom what and he couldn’t care less - when there’s the sound of another ceramic bowl being put down on the table. He’s honestly never been more thankful to see a small guy throw an awkward smile into his general direction.

Bar’s just putting out another bowl when the last West kid announces, “Uh, dinner’s ready?”

*

Dinner was… interesting. Mick has no idea when Len became even remotably comfortable in the Wests’ house, but the way he sat wrenched between Bar and Lisa and barely even shot any snarky comments says a lot. Hell, he’d even had his own small bowl with sausage-less potato salad like they’d expected him to stop by no matter what.

The food’s been good, though, Mick has to admit and even though the conversations going on hadn’t been his taste at all (he really lost even the last bit of his attention when the nerds started geeking out together - thinking about it, half the chat plus Wally should just open up a nerd club) it could have been worse. Plus, with Lisa sitting across from him it was easy enough to team up on making Wally uncomfortable. Can’t blame them, though, when the guy already seems intimidated by having Mick just sit next to him. Easy target.

Somehow, it ended like this: Wally swatting away all the comments either him or Lisa throw at him in favour of later running off to grab a science project. In the meantime, the detective has put cleaning duty on Len and Bar, either oblivious or nonchalant about the fact they’ll probably make out more than anything. And then, Mick has somehow found his way onto the couch in the living room, with Iris sitting next to him and Lisa on the floor, leaning against his shins. West’s taken the armchair for himself, settling into it comfortably.

It should feel weird, and it does feel weird, but not in a bad kind of way. A part of Mick is sure that all of this is just an act of the Detective - he might have actually started liking Len but there’s no way he’d even consider the possibility of Mick being something other than a criminal. And honestly? He doesn’t care. He is one and it won’t change. So yeah, the guy’s probably just waiting for him to fuck up so he can send him to prison at last and save the city some money.

It doesn’t even take too long until Iris pulls her phone out of her pocket even though she’s involved in a conversation with her father. She does apologize a few moments later though, and then she gets up, leaving the Detective’s attention all on him. He supposes Lisa could be a victim, too, usually, but she’s also like a cat. The way she sits down there, not saying anything, it’s easy to forget she’s even there, he supposes.

“Iris has told me you finally chose a major.”, West says after a few moments of staring, sounding almost nonchalant. “Took a while.”

Mick grunts shortly. “Yeah, no, I'd never given much thought into what to study.”

West raises an eyebrow. “But you did graduate High School.”

“Don't have to go to college after that, do you?”, Mick replies dryly. If he'd had it his way, he would've stopped going to school even before the stunt that got him into juvie. It wasn't that he was bad at it - his grades were probably better than anyone expected - but it was boring as hell. He didn't care for the topics, didn't care for the people and certainly didn't care about the future. But if he'd quit school, his grandma would've thrown him out. He wouldn't have had a problem with sleeping on the streets or something, but he's always had the feeling that Len bringing his sister with him when he visited almost daily was more serious than he let on (and how right that assumption had been, in the end). So yeah, he did not graduate for himself .

Thankfully, West seems to have left his interrogative behaviour at the precinct because he drops the topic. Instead, he calls for Iris. “Baby, will you put your phone away for a moment? God knows why you're using it so much lately…”, he mumbles it more to himself than anything before raising his voice a little. “It's time for Grandma Esther's eggnog, don't you think?”

At that, Lisa sits up straight. She crawls her fingernails into Mick’s legs to prop herself up and ignores the swat he gives her. Honestly, knowing West she won’t even get anything with her 18 years - the guy’s probably so strict he wouldn’t even give anyone under drinking age some pralines filled with alcohol. But well, that is her battle to fight. As long as he gets any, he doesn’t care.

Chapter Text

“Hey babe, you know you’re on vacation now, don’t you?”, Ronnie says softly as xe leans over to press a kiss against Cait’s neck. “Relax.”

Cait snorts but turns the chair around anyway. “And you know my mum will have my head if I can’t list the most recent developments in bio-engineering.”

She looks tired which is no surprise considering everything: She’s had classes every day this semester and even with the excitement she has for Christmas in general, it also means they’ll have to visit her mother. And well… come to think of it, the number of people Ronnie knows that really get along with their parents is small.

Still, xe tries xyr best to cheer her up. “Hey, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you in general. No need to impress her, huh?”

“Ronnie, you have literally met her several times. Did she ever seem just ‘happy to see me’?”, she wants to know, sending xem a cold glare.

It’s true, actually, that her mother turns almost every meeting into a test - it’s like she doesn’t trust Cait to do well on her own. That she’d rather have her join the company she works for is no secret any more. You’d think she’d know better by now that Cait’s more than halfway through with her studying, acing everything, and yet… There’s a reason they don’t go to Clara’s really often.

“You know what? I’m gonna give you a massage.”, Ronnie decides. Xe doesn’t wait for Cait’s complains but reaches past her to close the laptop. Then xe takes her by the hand, “Come on.”

She doesn’t seem too happy about that but doesn’t fight Ronnie’s pull either. She probably knows deep down that it doesn’t make any sense to try and punch the information into her head now anyways - it’s not like she doesn’t know anything , she’s becoming a doctor after all, but her mother really asks about every little detail in that area of science. And sometimes she just needs Ronnie to remind her of what she already knows.

Xe leads her into the bedroom easily, holding her close. They’re working together as they take off her blouse, slowly opening the buttons and sharing kisses in between, but it’s not too heated. They’re long past the times where seeing the other naked definitely leads to sex, but it doesn’t mean that Cait doesn’t shiver when xe runs a hand over her hip.

She laughs softly against xyr lips and xe can feel goosebumps spreading over her body. “Do you want to skip the massage?”

Xe shakes xyr head but moves to press kisses along her throat anyways. “Later maybe,” xe breathes and lifts xyr hands higher until they’re at the clasp of her bra. Xe opens it quickly and pulls away then, “Go lie down, I’m gonna grab some oil.”

Xe only waits for her to nod before walking into the bathroom. They’ve gotten quite a collection of different scents there nowadays, all for supposedly different purposes, but in the end it’s always the same one xe chooses for her. It’s the one that smells best and xe’d rather have the bed smell like something that does not burn in xyr nose.

Cait’s already laid down on the bed when xe comes back, her head propped up on a pillow. Like this, she almost looks like she’s asleep. Xe bends down while walking over to pick up the clothes she’d shed and places them on the sideboard. Cait turns her head when xe climbs onto the bed, smiling at xem softly.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Ronnie says softly, nudging her shoulder a bit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”, she breathes in response, even though it’s happened plenty of times already. And honestly? Xe really doesn’t mind. She could just doze off right now, if she felt like it, and xe’d probably throw a party because it’d mean she actually gets a night’s sleep for once before visiting her mother.

Xe chuckles softly and climbs over her, putting xyr knees next to her hips and props open the lid of the oil. There’s not a single thing xe doesn’t like about Cait and her body, but if xe’d had to pick a favourite thing, it would definitely be her lower back. It’s still as soft as anything else, but it’s like the point where everything meets, including her nerves, judging by the shudder she lets out whenever xe touches it.

Xe doesn’t start massaging right away but spreads the oil over her back first, making sure everything’s covered and warming up. And even though xe doesn’t do anything more, Cait lets out small sounds that cause xem to grin. Why don’t they do this more often?

They’re lining up perfectly as xe moves to reach every inch of her body, despite the fact that - safe for xyr hands - xe doesn’t even touch her. It’s always been fascinating how well they fit together, even though Ronnie’s much broader and harder and the fact that there used to be another body that didn’t mess it up either. It’s like: xem and Cait? Fitting together no matter what.

“Hm,” she sighs when xe finally starts putting pressure against her shoulder blades, “You know, you should just become a professional masseur so I can tell my co-workers in the future how I’m married to one and make them jealous.”

Ronnie can’t help but tense at her words. It’s not the first time that either of them is randomly talking about the prospect of them still being together even in a distance of several years, but lately… Lately xe feels like it’s time to actually finally do something to get there. It’s not like they’d need to put a new label on it, it’s not like their relationship stagnated and they need to put a twist on it, but xe’d really like it to progress in a certain direction.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that.”, xe says then, not stopping the massage even though that’s probably not the situation to have this talk.

“Becoming a masseur?” There’s a tease in her voice and Ronnie knows that discussing it can’t be wrong.

Still, xe rolls xyr eyes. “Marriage.”, xe says softly. “And, you know… us.”

At that, Cait leans up on her elbows and turns around underneath xem. She’s looking at xem with wide eyes as she leans back. “Are you--?”

“Proposing?”, xe finishes, smiling at her softly. “Yeah. I mean, when I imagined it you were wearing more clothes, but it’ll do.”, xe adds with a look down at her breasts.

Cait laughs and swats at xem. Then she catches xyr hand in hers and smiles up at xem. “Imagined it, huh?”

“I have rings in my nightstand.”, xe admits seriously.

“Wait, really?”

Instead of replying, xe leans over and opens the drawer. Xe’s had them stored there for a quite a while now, simply because it had been obvious that in the end they’d get there , but recently they haven’t been as dusty as they used to be.

Xe pulls the box out and sits back, opening it to her. “What do you say?”

“Since when do you have those?”, she wants to know.

Xe shrugs softly. “Months. Though I’d only actually started to think about it since… well. Since Cisco broke up with me.”

The look she gives xem is full of love, and sadness, of happiness and compassion; and most of all full of understanding. Xe doesn’t know how she does it, being so perfect and loving no matter what. How she didn’t have an ounce of jealousy ever and how even now, in this situation, she doesn’t mind that xe brings up Cisco.

Xe doesn’t need to explain, even though it’s stupid. That somehow, xe feels like having Cisco breaking up with xem was like a reminder that it doesn’t necessarily have to be endless. That, in a way, it’d be best to make sure that they’re both on the same page, with a symbol even though they both know it anyways.

“I love you,” Cait says softly, lifting a hand to stroke over xyr cheek. She leans up to kiss xem shortly. “I hope you’re aware that I wouldn’t say no, not even in a million years.”

“I know .”, xe answers, pressing back. “It’d still be nice to hear it.”

“You’re impossible.”, she chuckles. “But yes, Ronnie Raymond, I’ll marry you.”

It’s like the distance between them gets smaller and smaller as they kiss again, and with Cait’s giggles against xyr lips Ronnie’s certain that no proposal xe would have come up with had been a better fit for them - it didn’t matter how it happened, they don’t need something big as long as they have each other.

“You do know, though,” she mumbles when xyr hands find their place in the loops of her jeans, “that Cisco will castrate you if you don’t tell him.”

And honestly? If anyone who doesn’t know them were to judge this scene, they’d find so many mistakes. It’s barely romantic, Cait’s not even dressed properly, and now she casually mentions xyr ex. But to them, it makes sense. It makes so much sense. It’s perfect.

“You’re right.”, xe says and leans back, thumbling xyr phone out of xyr pants. Xe’ll just sent him a quick message and get into the story later, right now there’s something else xe’d rather get into.

“You should also, like, post a picture into the chat and see if anyone notices.”, she suggests. “I bet they won’t.”

“Great idea. Care to join me?”

She shakes her head with another grin, lifting up the box where xe’s left it. She takes one of the rings out of it and pulls xyr hand closer then, sliding it on. “I don’t see much use in putting on a shirt when we’ll take it off soon again anyway.

Chapter Text

“‘Quito?”, Hartley calls softly. If it weren't for his surprise about the lack of another body's warmth next to him, he wouldn't have raised his head. Both he and Cisco like to sleep in more than anything, which means neither of them surprises the other with breakfast in the morning, but it works just fine. He enjoys the early hours of the days snuggled up against one another more anyway.

But now it's still dark outside and yet he has the whole (albeit very small) bed to himself. It wouldn't be the first time, considering how easily Cisco can lose himself in the depths of the internet - it doesn't even matter if it's exploring a new project or memes - but they did go to sleep together. They'd both been quite swamped after the day with Cisco's family, even though he'd insisted it went quite well and Hartley should be thankful it wasn't a big thing, so it's surprising he's not asleep.

With a sigh Hartley sits up at last, throwing back the sheets. He reaches out for the nightstand and picks up one of his aids from there, putting it in his worse ear so that he’d be able to hear at least somewhat. Sometimes he's really thankful for Cisco's small apartment. There'd be enough possibilities to hide himself if they were at the Quiver in contrast to here where it's either the kitchen or bathroom.

Hartley worries that he might have left the apartment altogether when he doesn't find him sitting at the kitchen table and already makes a list of places he could've gone to. It's past 3am, so Detective West wouldn't be happy with finding a stray boy in his house and he guesses Bar wouldn't like him to be angry at them yet again, so that's out of question. But there's still the Quiver, empty safe for Lisa if she hasn't stayed with her brother, that Cisco could go to.

Hartley throws a glance to the table where he had put down his keys earlier - they're still there, so that's out of question then.

He shakes his head softly, mostly to himself. There isn't even a reason for Cisco to be going somewhere else. If anything, he would've thrown Hartley out rather than let him have the bed. Plus, Hartley knows there's no reason for Cisco to be pissed at him; he's behaved quite well today safe for a few snaps at Dante.

He finds him in the bathroom at last, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Cisco doesn’t even flinch when he turns on the light, just keeps staring at the pipe under the basin. There’s circles under his eyes, which is understandable with the stress he’s had today. He’s tried to seem chill, but Hartley knows about the tension between him and his immediate family. It’s not as bad as with his own, of course, but it’s taken its toll on Cisco anyway. And yet, it’s gone quite well, so that shouldn’t be his reasoning for looking like a zombie.

"You know what's good for insomnia?", Hartley prompts and leans against the doorframe. "Long, hot baths."

"Here I thought you'd say sex.", Cisco says dryly, still staring ahead.

Hartley breaks into a grin at that. "I mean, we can totally go and try that."

Cisco groans at that, but he starts smiling a little as he says, "You really are always horny."

"Should've known that by now.", Hartley shrugs and steps into the room. There's not much space there, but he sinks down on the floor across from him, pulling his legs close. "What's up?"

"You are.", Cisco notes. "Honestly, I never would have taken you for a cuddler."

Hartley smiles at that. He loves hearing what Cisco used to think about him and how it's changed, what he's had right from the start, and what he's learnt with the time. "Well, you did hate me. Probably thought I'd kick people out of my bed immediately, huh?"

Cisco snorts. "Babe, you never had any in your bed.", he reminds him. Then he leans forward, placing his hand on the back of Hartley's head and pulls him closer for a short kiss.

Hartley stays there when their lips part after a small moment and takes Cisco's wrists into his hands. "What's wrong? Is this about today?"

"You were perfect.", he replies. "Almost too perfect. There wasn't even any innuendo today, was there?"

It hadn't been a conscious choice of his - it's the first time he's met a pair of parents whose approval he wanted, seeing how Cisco is his first real boyfriend. And given their history, they might not have the best stories about him in mind. He's almost not dared to even open his mouth today, just in case he might fuck up. So yeah, no innuendoes.

He rubs slow circles over Cisco's wrists, massaging them softly. "When was even the last time you had a comfy bath?"

Cisco lets out a small chuckle. "You're really obsessed with that. I guess that'll be a requirement in the future?"

Hartley catches up on the words immediately. It's weird, the thought of moving in with a boyfriend should be scaring him at least a little, especially since they're not even dating for a month, but with Cisco it just makes sense. They haven't even said 'I love you' yet, probably because neither of them is there yet given their history, but it doesn't seem strange to think about a future with him. He supposes it’s because they've been in each other's lives for so long.

"Obviously," he agrees, "I won't move anywhere that doesn't have a tub. I'm snobby like that."

"No surprise here.", Cisco replies. Then, changing the topic without a pause, he continues, "Ronnie and Cait are gonna get married."

Oh . "So that's what this is about.", Hartley says quietly. He should've concluded that himself, after all Cisco had been dating Ronnie since his first weeks at college. He knows that they've still been in love even after they broke up, and Cisco still feels strongly about xem, despite his recent attraction to Hartley. Of course, that's developed into more, too, since they started dating, but it's still different.

It's always fascinating how well Cisco can read him. "I'm not jealous.", he assures him. "If I'd wanted to still date xem, I wouldn't have broken up. It's just..."

Hartley releases his hands to let him gesture. He used to think it's weird how Cisco uses them so much when he's talking about anything , but he's learnt it's just his way of finding words, as if he has to rip them down from the atmosphere.

He watches as Cisco waves them around a bit and waits for him to continue.

"I feel like they would have done so already if--", he cuts himself off.

"If you hadn't been there?", Hartley guesses. He's still not that used to seeing Cisco this vulnerable, not when they've spent years showing off to one another and trying to seem as confident as possible.

"Yeah.", Cisco nods. He hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be caring or at least not put it on you."

"No, you definitely should.", Hartley insists. He would be lying if he claimed he doesn't feel any jealousy, despite Cisco's words, but he also trusts him. "For what it's worth, I know you weren't a burden on their relationship. Ronnie would have known xe could complain to me if it had been differently."

Cisco's lip twitches. "Would have loved to turn my datemate against me, huh?"

“‘Course.”, Hartley nods. “My undying love for you has always been a fundamental force in my life. Honestly, I think xyr words had only made it worse - xe’s really loved you.”

He supposes it should be weird to be talking about his boyfriend’s past relationship like that, but with Ronnie being pretty much his closest friend, it’s just a given. It wouldn’t make sense anyway to act like it never happened, seeing how all of them are still evolved with one another. And Cisco even brings up Hartley’s past one night stands without batting an eye. Most of all, it almost seems like that’s his way of finding out what Hartley really likes.

“I don’t think you’ve held them back,” Hartley continues. “Ronnie might have been sad xe couldn’t just propose to both of you, so xe decided to not do it at all.”

He means it in all honesty, but Cisco actually starts laughing at it. “I think I’d have punched xem in the face if xe thought I’d want to get married with 20.”

Hartley joins into his laughter. “My, who would have thought you’re not a fan of early commitment?”

“I have nothing against commitment until it’s written down.”, Cisco states, sounding seriously. “The only time I actually liked that was my name change.”

Hartley huffs at that. “I don’t think I’ve never even signed anything proper in my whole life.”

“That’s because you’re a spoiled baby.”, Cisco replies dryly, grinning up at him. He finally takes one of Hartley’s hands again, intertwining their fingers. “You’re way better at that whole boyfriend thing than I thought, you know?”

“Wow, thanks.”, Hartley makes sarcastically. He lifts Cisco’s hand and presses a kiss against it before mumbling, “You make it quite easy, though.”

Cisco grimaces softly. “Not so sure about that.”

“Hell, I’m pretty sure you want to deck me most of the time - and not even in a sexual way.”

“Ah, I’d say it’s 50:50.” He grins and leans forward again to kiss Hartley, this time a bit fiercer than before.

Hartley puts his other hand on his hip when Cisco turns to kneel, making the distance between them smaller. Like this, he’s a bit taller than Hartley, something that even with their very active sex life isn’t too common. It’s a good feeling to have Cisco fist into his hair and pull him up as they kiss, causing Hartley to moan into his mouth.

“Ever had sex on a floor?”, Cisco breathes against his mouth, chuckling along to the words.

“No,” Hartley tells him. “Though I’m not sure I trust this one here to be hygienic at all.”

Cisco huffs, releasing him a bit. Hartley fears he might have blown his chance when his grin falls and he raises his brows. “Why do I think you’ve had sex in actual shitholes?”

“Not all of them were Axel-types.”, Hartley says seriously. “I mean, I do have standards, in the long run.”

“Cute.”, Cisco smirks and gives him another peck. Then he gets up and takes Hartley by the hand, making him follow. “I really am tired.”

Hartley pulls him against his chest and pouts. “You’re a tease.”

“I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”, Cisco promises, leaning up to kiss him again. “Then we’ll have to get up anyway, so cleaning up won’t be a big deal.”

“What would I do without you giving me reasons to get out of bed?”

“Be an even more depressed mess, I’d say.”, he grins softly and takes one of Hartley’s hands off his back, holding onto it instead and leading him out of the bathroom.

Hartley shakes his head in laughter. Anyone else would probably come up with nonsense. But Cisco? Even now he won’t back down from calling him out on his bullshit, and Hartley couldn’t be happier.

Chapter Text

“I do hope that’s Sara texting you her endless thanks about us flying in her girlfriend.”, Tommy says dryly, setting his empty glass down on the table. “Otherwise I wouldn’t see why you’re on your phone when you’re having a perfectly fine drinking night with your best friend.”

Oliver frowns and looks at the digital clock on the screen. “If we’re lucky, Dig’s just arrived at the airport, so she doesn’t even know yet.”

Tommy sighs and holds out his hand. “Well, then give me your phone.”

They’re sitting on the couch in Oliver’s old room, both taking a corner of it for themselves and having their legs meet in front of the middle. It’s comfortable, especially with the fireplace warming them from the outside and the whiskey doing the work on the inside, and it’s probably his favourite way of spending Christmas Eve. It’s become a tradition for them to do it like this since… pretty much since ever. Tommy’s dad would rather leave him at the Queens’ for the holidays after his wife’s death and it’s quickly become a habit for the two of them to just spend it lying around and talking about everything and nothing. With the years they’d added alcohol, then drugs, too. Now they’re back on only the alcohol, luckily, and even that’s become less. God, they’re really getting old.

Oliver knows that Tommy has mixed feelings about the groupchat. Mostly, he’s annoyed that it takes up so much time of Oliver’s, as far as he knows. And, he supposes, Eddie’s endless teasing and flirting might be a dealbreaker as well. Plus, he’s right. It’s their night.

“Okay, chill, I’m gonna put it away.”, Oliver says, locking the screen.

Even though he moves to shove it away, Tommy keeps holding out his hand. “Give.”

Oliver sighs. He knows that Tommy will probably tackle him if he doesn’t follow, so he hands it to him. He watches how Tommy punches in the code (good, Thea’s birthday really isn’t the most secure one) and opens the groupchat again just to type out a quick message without even looking if there’s any serious conversations going on.

“Hey!”, Oliver makes when he blindly throws it behind himself, thankfully hitting the bed, “That’s a new one!”

“Yeah, and we’re rich. Chill.”, Tommy shrugs. He leans back again and turns a little, placing his boots on Oliver’s lap despite the ‘oof’ he lets out at that. “I feel like you’re taking this chat too seriously.”

“Well, those are real people.”, Oliver tells him sternly. “And, you know, it’s-- it’s really important to me.”

It’s not that he’s been completely unhappy with his life, not in the slightest, before he came up with the idea of co-founding the club with Sara, but… He had a hard time figuring out himself. Spending so much time with people who either knew their exact place or were wondering about themselves, just like him - it’s really helped. He’s finally found something to feel comfortable in, enough courage and motivation to even announce it publicly and work for.

“I know.”, Tommy nods. “Believe me, I know. And I’m proud of you, remember? What have I done when you told me that you do like men?”

“Told me you were really glad for me.”, Oliver mumbles. Why does he have to make it feel like a test? It’s not like he’d just forget about what an awesome friend Tommy is just because he got some new ones, too.

“And what else?”

“Kissed the shit out of me.”, Oliver snorts. “Probably to check if I had a boner for you.”

“Still not sure if I should be happy or insulted that you don’t…”, Tommy mumbles with a grin. “Anyway, what I’m getting at: I know that you love those idiots and what they gave you, yeah? Don’t think that I’m not aware. But you’re not their father and you don’t need to be available 24/7.”

Of course, he’s right. It’s not even that Oliver really thinks he’s got the responsibility over anything other than organisation stuff. But then, he’s the one with the most influence there, the one who can just pay for everyone’s needs. (Sara really had to talk him out of giving Cisco thousands of dollars for his surgeries because apparently that was rude?) And with some of the backstories the chat members have going on, it’s easy to be worried. “Hartley was introduced as Cisco’s boyfriend today. And Mick and the Snarts are invited at Bar’s. They’re all not very good at stuff like that…”

“They’re all adults.”, Tommy tells him. “Plus, even if it did get bad, they can still call you. Hell, I bet you guys never talk about anything remotely serious.”

Oliver stops himself from replying, sensing that it wouldn’t do any good anyway. Tommy would just find new things to nag him about and in the end, Oliver would just get angry at him even though he knows he only means well. He could tell him how they kept Hartley from being homeless, of course, Tommy knows that, but he’d probably draw attention onto the fact that now Hartley’s very dependent on them . Which would be ironic, you know, because both of them still live off their parents money, too.

So yeah, he drops it.

“You know, though - actually I’d meant to save it for tomorrow, but it’s not really a present, so…” Tommy doesn’t want to fight either, apparently. “I’ve thought of becoming an investor in your project. Like, written in and everything.”

Oliver can’t help but stare at him. He’d expected that Tommy would want to contribute to it, if not because it’s a good cause then because it’s his best friend who has founded it (and, maybe, so he wouldn’t look dumb in front of Bruce next week), but that? It’s bigger than he’d have thought. It’d mean constant donations and if he wanted, Tommy could even take up more responsibility about everything they could do with it.

“Really?”

Tommy shrugs. “It seems like a good thing, doesn’t it? And I trust the guy running it that he won’t make me, like, do slave work.”

“Oh, but I totally would.”

“‘Course.”, Tommy snorts. “Besides that, it’s probably a good test run for our shared business, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so.”, Oliver agrees. Owning a club together has become a more fixed idea the older they get - with Tommy gaining work experience and Oliver learning how to really lead and finance it - but they still have never even had to share single thing in their life. When Oliver got a new car, Tommy got one, too, rather than ask if he could take it for a ride once.

And yet, it feels more serious than even that. That support group has sprung from a really personal idea of his, one that he’d fight for no matter what. If Tommy were to disagree about the wrong thing when it comes to it, it could put a real strain on their friendship. It’s something that concerns an area of life that affects Oliver in some extend, in a way that Tommy wouldn’t understand.

But as he watches Tommy fill up both their glasses, he wonders if that’s even possible. They might not see eye to eye sometimes, it certainly not about these topics, but if there’s one thing he can be sure of, it’s Tommy’s support.

He accepts his glass in thanks and raises it in cheers. “Well, we’re partners then, huh?”

Tommy grins. “Always been, man.”

Chapter Text

If there’s one Christmas tradition that Sara has it’s not having a Christmas tradition. For starters, Christmas is also her birthday, so there’s, like, something in that that makes her put Christmas into second place among the priority list. So, usually she spends Christmas Eve in her bed watching some bad chick flick (and maybe it’s the current Christmas Chick Flick, she accepts what’s delivered, okay?) and eating Laurel’s entire advent calendar at once because God knows she never does it herself. Speaking of Laurel, she’s the one who claims that repeatedly not doing any traditions is kind of a tradition after all. Go figure or something.

She supposes she could mix up things by scrolling through the group chat - knowing her friends, it will be even more active than usually - but somehow that would feel weird or something. Huh, maybe she does have a tradition after all. Anyway, there’s no time for their shenanigans tonight when she’s been meaning to watch that supposedly so-bad-that-it’s-good-again Christmas royalty movie on Netflix. If she weren’t back in Star, she might have asked the girls to join her. Maybe Bar, too - that’d probably be right up their alley. Now, though, it’s her and cheap chocolate.

-

There’s a policy in this household, one that Sara has established during her teenage years. Generally, you may come in after knocking. On Christmas Eve, though, when she’s already bid her farewells and turned on the TV, then it’s one of humanity’s biggest sins to disturb her, ever. And it’s never even been connected to her sneaking out or anything; that’s nothing she’s ever done at Christmas. Only, like, the other 362 days of the year.

So when there’s a noise coming from outside her door right when the reporter gets inside of the palace, she groans. “ No !”

For a moment, there’s quiet, making Sara think that whoever’s there - it must be Laurel, Laurel is bolder than their dad when it comes to her - has left. Then, though, there’s a voice. “Well, I suppose I’ll fly back home then.”

Sara freezes. She’s not able to move for a few seconds, too shocked. The TV continues running but she doesn’t recognize the words anymore. “What the--” She’s up within the blink of an eye then, jumping over to the door.

And sure as hell, there she stands, with a sure smirk in place. Of course Nyssa would know that even a hint of her presence would make Sara throw away all her plans for the evening. Even a skype call would’ve done that but now… Nyssa is here .

“You’re here!”, Sara yells, grabbing her by the shoulders and drawing her in for a kiss. It barely hits her mouth, and the chuckle she can feel against her body sends a wave of excitement through it. “ How are you here?”

Nyssa looks way too good for someone who must have spent a whole day travelling, she thinks when they pull apart (slightly only, of course). Somehow, she always looks good - it’s been a reason for many sleepless nights for Sara. The fun kind, of course. “Your friends Thomas and Oliver,” she says in a way of explaining. “They wish you a merry Christmas. And so do I.”

“ Tommy and Oliver ?”, Sara repeats. She can’t stop herself from gasping. Of course, most of the offensive things they do to one another are jokes but… Managing to get her girlfriend to her home? When she didn’t even think of gifting them, like, cheap wine or something?

Nyssa nods. There’s a smile on her face and this time it’s not teasing. It’s honest and happy. “Yes. Say, shall we go inside your room?”

“Yeah, of course.” She can practically see her dad sitting on his armchair downstairs, grinning to himself as he listens in. He’s totally been in the loop, she’s sure. “I-- Sorry, my room’s a mess.” She’s not quite sure what to say, mostly because she just didn’t expect to see Nyssa until March, so she refrains to… stiff conversation.

“Nothing I’m not familiar with,” Nyssa assures her. Her eyes fall on the screen. “What were you watching?”

Sara shrugs. “Ah, just some random chick flick. I’ll turn it off--”

“No, it’s alright. I would love to join you, actually.”

“Really? I mean, you didn’t come here all the way to watch TV or anything.” Sara says, watching Nyssa sink down on the covers of her messy bed gracefully. She always does that, not even knowing how hot every single gesture she makes is because she’s so contained and yet smooth . Mick would appreciate those hints of a lifelong training in every movement, she’s sure.

“No, but I did come here to spend time with you. And, frankly, after this journey cuddling would seem like a pleasant way.”, Nyssa says easily. She pats the bed next to her, and Sara follows easily.

They’re turning away from the TV, but that’s alright, because in the next moment Nyssa’s fingers are placed along Sara’s jaw gently. “I’ve missed you,” she breathes against Sara’s lips.

“Same,” Sara answers. Then she grimaces, noticing that she talked to her girlfriend in real life like she’d do in their groupchat . God, it’s really time to step back from that for a while.

Nyssa may not realize the full reason for her expression, but it makes her laugh anyways. It’s still written into her features when Sara closes the distance between them again.

Chapter Text

“Please tell me that did not actually just happen.”

Eddie rubs his forehead, trying to shove away the pain. He shoots a glare up at Snart, who’s actually had the audacity to start laughing at him - and with everything, hearing him laugh is equivalent to him stabbing a knife into your back, he’s sure. Snart’s seriously enjoying him sitting on the ground and Bar’s not even helping.

In fact, they’re looking down at their own phone when he looks up. “I can pass on that you’re alright, yes? Alive and breathing.”

“I liked you better before you were dating him.”, Eddie replies, narrowing his eyes even more as he nods in Snart’s direction. Still, he accepts Bar’s hand when they extend it after wrapping up texting - presumably about him walking into a fucking lamp post.

“We’ve pretty much been dating ever since you met them.”, Snart points out, shrugging a little. And yes, of course it looks all nonchalant and cool.

“You want me to kiss it better?”, Bar offers. Eddie smiles softly as their hands close around his cheeks and they lean down a little to inspect his forehead. He can practically hear Snart scowl, but that doesn’t stop him from nodding.

And Bar actually follows through, pressing their lips softly against Eddie’s skin for a moment. He can’t help but relax into the touch, even if he’d mostly agreed just to rile up Snart. Bar’s just good at calming people down and he genuinely likes them, so it’s nothing if not soothing.

“Break it off, will you?”, Snart groans. Seriously, it’s almost funny that none of them are allowed to mention his jealousy when it’s so fucking prominent. Eddie’s pretty sure one of these days someone will get killed just for looking at Bar the wrong way.

Though, Bar’s pretty good at sticking up to that. They ignore him in favour of running their thumb over Eddie’s forehead again. “You good?”

He can’t help but let out a laugh at their concern, especially since Snart mumbles beside them. He’s pretty sure that any moment now he’ll put them apart. “Do me a favour and marry me?”

“Sure,” Bar snorts. They turn their head to shoot a grin at Snart again, “Hear that? I just became engaged.”

“I doubt that either West would appreciate that.”, Snart replies. He reaches for Bar’s hand and pulls it off Eddie’s face at last.

“You think you really have won over the Detective?”, he teases. Seriously, if he had to pinpoint the strangest thing about their whole group shenanigans it’s that miraculously Leonard Snart has ended up on Detective West’s good side. He doesn’t know him personally, but already from the sounds of it it’s seemed impossible. Bar might be exceptionally good at manipulating people who like him.

“Sure have, pretty boy.”, Snart smirks. “Though I was more thinking about Miss West.”

“ Len ,” Bar says slowly, but in a determined and low voice.

Snart raises his hands in what’s probably supposed to fake innocence when it actually just portrays his teasing further. Really, the least he could’ve done was wipe his smirk off his face.

“What do you mean?”, Eddie wants to know. He even frowns at him, trying to mix his best puppy eyes into the mix. They probably won’t be as effective as Bar’s or Cisco’s, but it’s worth a try.

“Nope,” Bar cuts in before Snart can even start to react. They shake their head firmly and reach for an arm of each of them, curling their own through them. “I was promised boba, so I want my boba. Post-exam boba.”

“Say that more often and boba won’t be a word any more.”, Snart tells them.

And since Bar is actually a little shit in disguise, they simply go, “Boba boba boba boba boba--”, for so long and so fast that Eddie thinks they could easily have a career as a rapper. Are white rappers even still in? The only one he can remember from top of his head is Eminem, actually, and Bar’s so far from that guy - in a positive way, naturally - that that comparison seems almost insulting.

“Oh God, stop.”, Snart says sternly, moving to clasp a hand over Bar’s mouth. Eddie can’t help but chuckle; it’s such a human reaction, it barely fits to him at all.

Bar sticks out their tongue as they duck away, bumping their shoulder against Eddie. “Make me!”

“Oh God, this is so cliche.”, Eddie breathes through a grimace. He pulls on Bar’s arm to make them stop flirting and start moving . “Come on, a sweet death awaits us.”

-

“It’s not death .”, Bar insists as they take a picture of their cups on the table.

“Don’t tag me on that,” Snart chimes in, “I don’t wanna be associated with him.” That’s accompanied by a nod into Eddie’s direction.

“Jokes on you, I don’t have an instagram.”, Eddie replies, sticking out his tongue. He grabs his smoothie and continues, “But seriously, Bar, that stuff’s sugar pure. Your heart won’t like it.”

“It’s not like I drink it on a daily basis, plus I’ve deserved it.”, Bar answers. “Hm, I think I’ll just vague the two of you then.”

Snart just hums at them, reaching for his own coffee - black, of course, like his soul. “What do you mean you don’t have an instagram, pretty boy? Thought you’d be all over this stuff, flooding the world with your face.”

Involuntarily, Eddie breaks into a grin. He can’t help it, really. Sure, he’s gotten a lot of compliments in his life but considering his childhood it’s always a pleasant surprise. And even wrapped in what’s probably supposed to be an insult, Snart’s still calling him genuinely attractive. So yeah, he’s kinda happy about that. “What, you think I’d become an insta model?”

“Better that than a cop.” Snart shrugs a little. Judging by his voice, he’s actually serious.

Before Eddie can open his mouth to reply, Bar suddenly moves forward, clapping their hand onto Snart’s thigh. They don’t even look up from their phone but continue frowning at it, even as they ask, “Did you guys really never hang out before?”

“What, of course we did.”, Snart says in a huff. “Along with the bunch of other weirdos.”

“Without the other weirdos .”, Bar says dryly, punching against his shoulder. The fact that they don’t even get so much as a growl in response tells a lot of their relationship in Eddie’s opinion ( God , Snart is so whipped. By Bar Allen of all people). “Like-- like this.”

“Well, there’s always the time Snart fucked up the Rathaways.”, Eddie points out.

“Right,” Snart says, slowly starting to smirk again. “Did they forget about that?”

“Nah, don’t think so.”, Barry says casually, like they’re trained to assure Snart of his awesomeness. Eddie bites back a snort. “Anyway, they’re wondering what you hanging out might look like.”

“Tell them I’m beating up pretty boy.”

“I know at least half these people would be upset with you fucking up my pretty face, though.”, Eddie shoots back.

Snart rolls his eyes. “Then I’m kicking your ass. Might literally do that if you continue.”

“And I thought you wanted to make me famous.”

“Stop pouting,” Bar chides him and reaches forward to cup his chin. “Though you probably should get an account.”

Eddie makes a sound in rely that could be read as either dismissive or approving, probably, and takes another sip of his smoothie. If he compared how the people around him put their accounts to use, it actually seems pretty unlikely that he’d actually get one. He doesn’t need to promote anything like Oliver and Linda do, and if he were to share his private life like Cisco does he would probably be deemed as unprofessional before he even starts being a cop. Before he can even start bringing up either of the thoughts running through his head, though, he sees Snart swallow some pills with a swig of his coffee.

His— well, he’s not sure what exactly he feels at the sight, but his brows go up to meet his hairline anyways; maybe it’s surprise, maybe it’s concern, or something else but it’s definitely visible to Snart because he rolls his eyes. “Relax, those were actual prescribed meds.”

“I didn’t know you took any.”, Eddie says in a hollow voice. It probably shouldn’t surprise him, with what he’s learnt about Snart’s past and him having to see a therapist, but the fact’s still there.

“He keeps forgetting them.”, Bar says sternly. “Because he doesn’t put on an alarm or anything.”

“You don’t have one either.”, Snart replies. Something about this tells Eddie they have that conversation often.

“Yeah, because I take my meds after waking up. Hard to forget that .”

“Well, mine are prescribed for noon, so that’s--”

Bar rolls their eyes as they singsong, “ That’s why you should put on an alaaaaarm .”

“You’re like an old married couple.” Eddie snickers. When he’s met with a deer-in-headlights-look (provided by Snart, surprisingly) and a sly grin, he adds, “No really. Lemme guess, you discuss this almost every day.”

“ No --”

“We wouldn’t have it if Len learnt to put on his alarm!”, Bar interrupts. “Eddie, tell him to put on his alarm.”

“Uh, I’d rather not.” Maybe his response is caused by the glare Snart sends him, but that doesn’t mean it’s not honest. Hell, who is he to tell Snart what to do? Plus, if Bar had been telling him exactly the same thing for God knows how long and he still doesn’t do it, what effect could he possibly have?

Snart smirks at the words. “I feel pity for whatever station ends up with you.”

“I feel pity for Bar because they’re stuck with you.”

“Wow, that was really witty and hurting, pretty boy.”

Bar raises a hand. “I’d like to point out I chose to be stuck with him.”

“And it’s a shame!”, Eddie insists. “You deserve a tooth-rotting fluffy romance, darling.”

“Stop your bad flirting.”, Snart growls. In a swift motion he leans closer and rounds his arm around Bar’s shoulders. If it weren’t for his words, it would look almost casual; now, however, it seems like he’s trying to pull them away from Eddie.

“Aw,” Bar pouts, turning their head to him. “I love you.”

Eddie can’t see Snart’s reaction, but when he hears, “I know,” in response he almost feels like gagging. It’s not like he actually meant what he’s said before - the two of them are a cute couple, Eddie can admit that even without imagining how the rest of the group would react if he didn’t. And it’s not like he’s actually crushing on Bar. It’s just too funny to rile Snart up with the little love declarations he makes sometimes, and Bar blushing about them is a bonus.

“Oh my God, please tell me you did not just quote Star Wars at each other.”, he bursts out. “Like, that was an accident, right? Not on purpose?”

They ignore him in favour of kissing, which is probably all the answer he needs. Fucking nerds .

Chapter Text

Hartley sighs to himself as the whiskey runs down his throat, burning it as it flows. Usually he doesn’t enjoy drinking alone as much - the labelling of it as ‘borderline alcoholic’ coined by his parents too prominent in his mind - but after the day he’s had, he thinks he deserves it. Not as a coping mechanism but as a treat. Realistically, he’s known the fight he’s had with Cisco could be solved in literally any way other than breaking up, yes. But then, he’s never been one for relationships. Honestly, the few months he’s been dating Cisco have been the longest and most honest he’s ever had - the most emotional one; it’s not just sex and some kind of ‘yeah, I guess you’re alright’, it’s an overwhelming feeling, one that scares Hartley a lot of times. It’s no surprise he’d repressed that for so long. And he knows it’s different for Cisco (he hasn’t been surprised that he hadn’t returned the Big Words at him and he understands why) - it didn’t matter how logical he’d looked at their fight, there was no guarantee Cisco would value it the same.

He can just be glad that, in the end, he has.

Completely wrapped up in his thoughts, Hartley hadn’t noticed Eddie until he’s sank down on the stool across from him. He’s already dressed in loose clothing for bed, hair tousled, like he’s already tried to sleep. There’s no hint of that in his features, though, as he gestures towards the bottle in front of Hartley. “Pass that over?”

Hartley follows suit, but not without pointing out, “As a cop you should’ve reminded me I’m not allowed to drink.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says, bringing the now-open bottle to his lips. He takes a few sips straight out of it and grimaces. “You know, Joe West lets his kids drink.”

“How’d you know that? I mean, you don’t even know anything of the guy, right? Only met him for, like, a minute.” Hartley reponds because well? He’s a sadistic little shit.

“Do you like to see me in pain?” Eddie whines and at the giggle he gets in response he adds, “You’re an asshole.”

“Well, duh,” Hartley makes while Eddie chugs another huge sip. “Even Caitlin would say that.”

He’s met with huge eyes, not exaggerated - just shocked. “Would not.”

Hartley nods. “She did. After Cisco broke up with Ronnie.”

Eddie gasps, this time almost comically. “No,” he decides and then downs another sip.

“Yeah, I didn’t even know what for.” Hartley says with a shrug. Honestly, back then he hadn’t even considered being the reason for it. Sure, it was unexplainable why Caitlin had been off towards him, but with Ronnie he had thought xe just didn’t wanna see anyone. Totally reasonable that Hartley was included in that because while he may consider Ronnie his best friend, that doesn’t mean it has to be the other way around as well. “Might’ve been able to figure that out with better social skills,” he adds.

“Might’ve,” Eddie nods. “So, anything on your mind or are you just drinking for the lolz?”

Hartley almost chokes. “Did you just say for the lolz out loud? Jesus, you‘re so old!“

“Am not. And at least I’m not changing the topic.”

Now, Hartley sits back, fumbling with the tablecloth for a moment. Hell, he knows that they all - their entire group, the extension of the rest of the Quiver - only mean well. They’ve shown time and time again that he can trust them, no matter with what. He knows that. Still, it doesn’t mean he’s suddenly the most open guy around. He’s self-aware enough to recognize that the way he still struggles with understanding and showing emotion is a remainder of the way he was raised. It’s ingrained in his DNA.

He accepts the bottle when Eddie holds it up again, taking a huge swig. It burns in his throat, but he’s never really been opposed to that feeling in the first place. Back when he first tried alcohol, it’s been about feeling like one of the big guys, so he had ignored the coughing flaming up inside of his lungs. Not that there’s been anyone who’d have noticed anyways. Finally, he responds, “I told Cisco I love him.”

He doesn’t think that’s been wrong - it must be what he’s feeling. The warmth spreading in his chest , as opposed to his dick, when he just thinks about Cisco. The way he puts up with Cisco’s bad jokes, almost longs for them at times. How he feels safe around Cisco even though he knows that neither of them could do much to anyone. And then, the fact that he’s been harboring his attraction towards Cisco for years… There’s nothing to doubt for him.

“You did?” Eddie sounds excited for a moment, but he catches himself quickly. Hartley doesn’t miss the way he looks down at the bottle before he takes in his somber expression. “Oh… What did he say? What-- You didn’t break up, did you?”

Hartley laughs before he can stop himself. He doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, yeah, but he’s never quite understood why something like this would be a reason to break up. One person loving another; that sounds more like a promise, doesn’t it? “No, we’re good.”

“But why…?” Eddie nods at the bottle.

Now, just because Hartley doesn’t think it’s a reason for breaking up, doesn’t mean he’s not sad about Cisco not returning the magical words. After all, Hartley has been the reason himself as to why he’s spent the past years hating him. Even if they’re long come past this - thankfully and whole-heartedly - Hartley used to be an asshole to him. Never below the belt (quite frankly in the literal sense) but still awful enough. That something like this still lingers in the back of Cisco’s mind is a reminder of how he used to be. “He didn’t say it back.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine,” Hartley says before Eddie can launch into comforting him. “I get it.”

Eddie presses his lips together for a moment, thinking about it. If he’s clever, he’ll see the same picture Hartley sees: years of rivalry versus a few weeks of dating. It isn’t hard to see the faint winner here. “Was that before or after your fight?”

“After.” Hartley replies. “It… kind of slipped out when I explained why I was so concerned about him still living in that hole.”

It’s almost comical how slowly there’s a grin creeping up onto Eddie’s face. And apparently it’s not just Hartley who’s a little shit here. “Awww!”

“Shut up,” Hartley says quickly. He can feel his cheeks burn up, but he’s pretty sure that’s just the alcohol hitting. (Whom is he kidding?)

“Still, so this is a pity party?” Eddie says, even though there’s still a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He reaches over and takes the bottle from Hartley again. “I can do those.”

“You know,” Hartley starts. He pushes himself up from his chair and goes to the cupboard, taking two glasses out of it. There’s no sense in passing the bottle back and forth at this rate. “There’s not even a real reason for you to be this whiny.” He sets the glasses down as he continues.

Eddie opens his mouth, ready to list off all his problems, but rather than let him do that, Hartley cuts him off.

He counts with his fingers: One, “You got your dream job.” Two, “In the city you wanted the most.” Three, “You’re the partner of a cop of whom you know that he’s good.” Four, “You work under a gay captain, making the force a safe space.”

“That’s--” Eddie closes his mouth again, frowning as he thinks about it. “Right. But still, like… It’s Iris’s dad. It’s so weird.”

Hartley shrugs, finally reaching for the bottle and filling up both their glasses. You don’t typically drink it like this, but, hell, like he cares. “Either you step up your acting game or you come clean to him, I’d say.”

Eddie grimaces, but he doesn’t say anything to either option. Instead he takes a sip off his drink. Hartley supposes he can understand him; he wouldn’t want to be in this situation - it would certainly get awkward if Detective West found out how well exactly Eddie knows his kids. Especially his daughter. Still, though, if Eddie continues to be this feverish about working with him, then there won’t be secret about this soon any more.

Hartley raises his glass as well and then they sit there for a while, not saying anything. He likes hanging out with Eddie, even in the quiet moments. He doesn’t know how or why, but somewhere along the line they’ve clicked - it might boil down to the same sexual humour that they have. Somehow, he thinks that if they were to spend more time with each other, they could become close friends. There’s no bullshitting between them, but no crossing lines either. Hartley doesn’t find it difficult to talk to him, which is rare. Usually, he tends to not see any stop signs.

And maybe, Eddie feels the same because all of sudden, he goes, “Let’s move in together.”

Hartley coughs. “What?”

“No, I’m serious!” Eddie insists. He sets down his glass and leans forward, excitement portrayed on his face - so much that it freaks Hartley out, even in the spare lighting. “Look, I didn’t mean to stay here forever anyways-- But, like, as if I could go back to living on my own after this trash fire here--”

“I wouldn’t call this a trash fire,” Hartley remarks. He likes the Quiver because even with all the screaming and chaos, it could definitely be worse. He’s just thinking about how much Dig and Laurel keep everyone in charge; without them? Now that would be a trash fire.

“You don’t get me! Concentrate!” There’s determination clinging to his whispered shout, Hartley has to give him that. He makes himself blink a few times and really concentrate, just like Eddie’s said. “So, I wanna move out at some point. And, like, pretty sure you wanna have some solo time with Cisco without an asshole next door.”

Now, Hartley’s not really sure if ‘asshole’ refers to one of the inhabitant of the Quiver or Axel, but it could fit any bill, really. Still, there’s something else that’s wrong in that statement. “Pretty sure privacy doesn’t exist in our group either way.”

“Dude,” Eddie groans this time. “Do you wanna move in with me or not?”

“Move in with you?”

Now, Eddie leans back with a sigh. “ Man , you’d think alcohol didn’t get you wasted right away… Guess you are skinny--”

“Wait. Why would I move out here?” If you ask him, it makes no sense. He’s got a comfortable nice room here, people he likes - people who make him feel welcome, who feel more like a family than his parents ever did - and basically no rules. And even those they have are like a fun game (he should thank Ray for the Wheel of Chores some time). He doesn’t even have to pay rent! This is, like, a fantasy world for everyone who ever got thrown out of their house.

“I know all that, man. I’ve been here.” Oh, apparently Hartley has said all that out loud. Well, good, then Eddie can see his argumentation clearer. “But, like… Okay, look. Got an idea. You know what’d be cool?”

“Hm?”

“Sticking it into your old folks’ faces.”

Hartley pipes (hah) up. “What’d you mean?”

“Like, imagine if they find out you got your life together all by yourself!” Eddie says, eyes wide. Actually, he looks like he’s gonna start jumping up and down any second. “Step up for yourself, man!”

“My life has never been--” Eddie gives him a pointed look. “Okay, maybe it has been a mess but it isn’t like I’m lazy or something? Like, I mean--”

“Your name would be on the lease.”

Now, that’s a game changer. Suddenly it comes back to Hartley: If there’s one thing he has always - always! - dreamt of, even before he knew about physics (yeah, there was a time) or boys (a boring time), it’s been having his own home. A place that he owns, not one that owns him. So… “Oh.”

“Really? That’s what gets you?” Eddie sits back again, staring at him with a baffled expression. “Dude, you’re so weird.”

“I wouldn’t be homeless any more!”

“You technically aren’t-- Okay, I mean your brand would be lost--”

“No, that’s good.” Hartley cuts in. Seriously, if he owned a place? He could do with it whatever he wants. Paint the walls in any colour he likes, maybe a new one each week. He could reenact whole musicals by himself and nobody would be any wiser. Sure, he’d be sharing with Eddie, but the guy’s a cop and out the house often probably… It does sound good.

“Are you sure you’re even gonna remember this conversation in the morning?” Eddie wants to know. He’s got his eyebrows raised and still looks pretty doubtful towards Hartley’s response. Which-- really? It was his idea, so he should be happy if he agreed, right?

“Sure hope so,” Hartley answers. He’s not that drunk, after all. Bit tipsy, but that’s about it. That’s why Eddie doesn’t say anything when he picks up his glass again but clinks his own against it, like they’ve sealed their fate.

Chapter Text

“If it isn’t my favourite police captain!” Linda’s keeping her voice cheerful but honestly? She’s only slightly exaggerating. There’s pretty people everywhere, the ideal environment for gossip and news (not to mention that she organized this whole thing) and she really does like Captain Singh. She’s not actually surprised to see him since she already knew about it, but still. It’s no fake that she’s happy to see him. “Gee, Captain, so good to see you!”

Singh turns around when she reaches up to his shoulder, blinking at her rapidly. “Oh, Linda. What are you doing here?”

“You know me, Captain,” she winks, biting back a grin at Eddie’s confused face next to Singh. “I’m always with the news.”

True to himself, Singh sighs softly. “I suppose. Hey, have you met Detective Eddie Thawne? He’s Joe West’s new partner.”

Now, Eddie’ startled about being involved in the conversation. What exactly he’s planned to do the whole evening, Linda isn’t sure, but it might have been standing and staring. “I-- yes, briefly.” So he’s still not up to tell anyone that he knows them all. Linda suppresses a groan at that. Iris is right, things would be so much easier if they’d already tell at least Joe - not that Eddie and Iris had sex, because that sure as hell would make him flip his shit, but at least that they’ve met and befriended one another at CCC. It’s not like that’s forbidden.

She nods at him before turning back to Singh. “Say, Captain, how about a little statement from you? It’d fit beautifully on my blog.” She’ll tell him about her exact involvement during the conversation, she’s decided.

Now, Singh’s lip quirks a bit. “Have you ever asked if you could start as a trainee at CCPN?”

Linda shrugs. “They don’t take you if you study at the same time. Once I’m through, nothing’s gonna stop me from that.”

“Good,” Singh nods. “Best if you start bothering me with official reason.”

It’s cute how he pretends she hasn’t actually charmed him already, Linda has to give him that. It makes her laugh because deep down everyone should know there’s no escaping from her grasp. Not even for the CCPD’s captain. “So, about that statement…?”

“Sure. Why the hell not,” Singh shrugs. Then he puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Thawne, why don’t you go loosen up a little? Lord knows you look more serious than Rob when he planned our wedding…”

Again, Eddie hadn’t realized someone could start talking to him. Geez, if he’s really that jumpy the whole time while on the job, then Linda can wholeheartedly understand Joe’s complaints. It’s probably really no fun to work alongside him. “I-- Yeah, sure. Thanks, captain.”

He trots of right away, almost bolting as he goes. Singh grimaces a little as they watch him. “He’s completely new to the job,” he says as a way of explanation. “Still, a good worker from what I’ve seen and heard.”

“He probably just needs some time to adjust,” Linda assures him. Maybe it sounds like she’s just saying it because that’s what you do, but just like she’s told Joe - she truly believes that. Of course, to the two men it seems differently because they don’t know that her connection to Eddie is closer than an acquaintance, but that doesn’t matter.  

“I sure hope so,” Singh nods. “Well, then. Your statement?”

And honestly, Linda is also here to blog about it. She’s even wearing her self-made press badge. This is just two birds and one stone.

-

“Bruce Wayne, are you trying to steal my thunder?”

As expected, Bruce flips around instantly. He’s always had it about him that he’s quite ignorant towards the press - something that Alfred, his butler since birth, should have tried to get out of his system but has ever since failed. So yeah, Oliver’s figured he’d drop his conversation partner as soon as something else catches his attention.

He supposed he can understand Eddie‘s crush on Bruce sometimes, or the fawning of the others, because the wide grin he sends Oliver’s way makes his stomach do flips. The slim dark tux only makes Bruce‘s smile shine brighter, and the same goes for his eyes.

“Oliver!” He says happily, clasping his hand around Oliver’s in the motion. “Come here, let me introduce you to Clark Kent.”

Oliver’s pulled closer to the other man before he can even react otherwise. In the next second, he’s shaking hands with the the other dark-haired man who introduces himself as “Clark, please, Daily Planet.”

It’s weird, though, at first sight Oliver had thought the reporter would come from some lifestyle magazine, judging by his build. Maybe a gay one, fitting to the theme of the gala. Let’s just say, even the fat-rimmed glasses atop of his nose don’t make him fit into the usual reporter look.

“Why, Bruce, I didn’t think you’d bring your own paparazzi to my gala,” Oliver teases. Metropolis and Gotham are twin cities, just like Central and Keystone, so there’s no doubt Bruce is frequently mentioned in Metropolis’ newspaper. Hell, he’s probably a regular nationwide.

Bruce laughs at his joke. “Hardly that. Clark’s a friend. Our dogs have playdates!”

“Also,” Clark chimes in, “I’m from the cultural resort. All here for your party, Mr Queen.”

“Oliver, please.” There was a time when he’d yearned to be addressed as such, when he thought it was cool and respectful. Nowadays, it just reminds him of the way people tried to suck up to his dad. “So you’re a white Karamo Brown, huh?”

Both men blink at him, clueless to the reference that slipped out of his mouth.

“Nevermind, my friend’s got me hooked on this TV show—“ Oliver shakes his head. “Say, Clark, why don’t I give you a tour? It’s what you’re here for, after all.”

“That’d be great! Thank you.”

“Oh, Bruce, you should try and find Hartley. Rathaway.” Oliver continues, catching Bruce by his arm. “I think your parents have had connections to his. He’ll tell you why exactly you should look into those.”

Bruce frowns. “Okay? I wouldn’t think such conversations are fit to today’s—“

“No, trust me. They fit alright.”

“If you say so.” Bruce nods. He looks between Clark and Oliver once more, like he’s unsure whether to really leave. “Actually, Oliver, I wanted your opinion on something.”

“Sure! Just… later? I think Hartley has to leave early and it’d be a shame if you missed him.” It’s not even a lie, Oliver thinks. Hartley should probably leave the party early, considering Cisco‘s got work tomorrow. He doubts that he will, but that’s beyond his reach. “I, however, will be here the whole evening, so…”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Bruce nods again. “Care to point me in the right direction?”

“Last I saw he was at the buffet. He’s got kinda big glasses. Is probably with his boyfriend. The guy’s wearing a braid today, so you won’t miss them, I’d say.”

And this, Bruce trots off, leaving him alone with Clark and the big friendly grin of his.

-

“Thank God for Linda,” Eddie breathes as he approaches her. He’s got a grin in place, but Iris can tell the grip on his glass of orange juice is way too strong. Seems like the evening is quite stressful for him - though, the exact reason she can’t pinpoint. “Seriously, I thought I was going crazy.”

Iris tilts her head. “Going? Honey, I think we all--”

“Yeah, I know the drill, cheshire cat.” Now Eddie smiles at least. Not his breath-taking, carefree one, but it’s better than the alternate serious expression in its place. “Still, I don’t think I could’ve gone the whole night pretending that I don’t know y’all--”

“That’s why you come talk to me specifically. Makes sense.”

Eddie sticks out his tongue at her. “I’m just chatting with my partner’s daughter, I think that’s allowed.”

Iris sighs. She could come back to the discussion they’ve had plenty of times - there’s no way her dad won’t find out their acquaintance goes beyond Eddie being his partner, so why not come clean right away? If they keep lying to him, then her dad would be so mad. But she knows Eddie doesn’t listen, at least not yet, so she lets it slide. “Come to think of it, I should probably go check up on Bar. They’ve disappeared to the restroom ten minutes ago and God knows their anxiety’s probably up the roof.”

Eddie frowns at her. “The Snart thing that bad?”

“You have no idea,” she says sourly. Bar’s told her all about that fight and there’s a line that Snart has crossed - one that is a taboo to everyone who’s known Bar for more than an hour. To think that their boyfriend would fuck up like this…

“What exactly did he even--?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s between them and I doubt Bar would like to have this passed around.” Iris says. They probably wouldn’t. Sensitive topic and all that. And as pissed as she is at Snart for saying that stuff, she can’t help but think: “Though, it’s probably better if Snart’s not here.”

“Why? I’d think this is his scene. Lots and lots of drunk and beautiful people.” Eddie says casually. “He’d make himself at home, wouldn’t he?”

“Too well probably. I’m pretty sure this would trigger his Kleptomania.”, Iris explains. She only knows about that one gala where her dad had arrested Snart, but it fits the profile: hosted by a billionaire and people being so distracted with talks that they wouldn’t notice jewellery get missing. The perfect invitation to such urges.

“Huh,” Eddie makes. Did he even know about that? Iris isn’t sure. “Hm, you want me to come with?”

Iris shakes her head. “You know how they are when they’re not doing well. As little attention as possible.”, she tells him. “But you know whom else you’re known to be familiar with?  Or should be, at least? Oliver. Why don’t you go look for him?”

“Good call.”, Eddie nods. He puts his hand on her shoulder shortly, sending a fuzzy feeling through her body - she can’t help it, he’s being weird about any physical contact with her lately. “You text me if they’re alright, yeah?”

“Sure.”

-

“Oh my God, Bruce Wayne is coming our way.” Cisco starts patting down his dress jacket, “How do I look?”

Hartley clicks his tongue. “Like someone who is here with his boyfriend and should not care about that.”

And yeah, he expected the sour look Cisco sends his way. “Like you haven’t thought about it.”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t, so Hartley hides his grin behind a sip of champagne. There may have been a time when evenings like this were his second nature but that’s been long gone for a while now. Besides, he’s never met Bruce Wayne of all people. He supposes he gets Eddie - the guy does look amazing as he steps up to them.

“What are we even gonna talk about? Like, we’ve said we’d take care of him but how the hell are we supposed to do that?”, Cisco wants to know.

“I don’t know, let’s just see how the conversation go--”

“Excuse me, are you Hartley Rathaway?”

And now he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy the way his name rolls off Bruce Wayne’s tongue. “Yeah. Yes, I am.”

“I’m Bruce Wayne,” he says, extending his hand for a shake. “Oliver mentioned our parents must have been business partners.”

Hartley frowns at that. That’s what Oliver comes up with? Sure, it’s probably the only connection between the two of them, but it’s not like he particularly enjoys talking about his parents. The same goes for Bruce, probably; his parents must have died when Hartley was still a toddler, come to think of it. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything of that.”, he answers. Then he nods at Cisco. “This is my boyfriend, Francisco Ramon.”

You can tell that this is nothing that Cisco is used to, because his voice is high-pitched when he goes, “Hi!” Bruce smiles at him patiently (and wow).

“According to Oliver, there might be reason to reconsider that connection,” Bruce prompts. He looks almost sheepish as he speaks - as much as Bruce Wayne can, probably - which makes sense because you don’t always tell a business partner’s son to talk you out of that.

It’s Cisco who blurts something out first. “Are you saying you come here without having watched Oliver’s big announcement?”

“He means the press conference from months ago,” Hartley adds at Bruce’s confused expression. “Where Oliver basically announced this Foundation--”

“Oh, I remember! Yes, you were there. You have to forgive me for not recognizing you,” Bruce admits. “I’ve always found it easier to memorize people I have met in the flesh.”

“I suppose that brings trouble when you lead a business,” Hartley says.

Bruce laughs - a nice sound, though he thinks it might be a little overdone. “Thankfully I am not the only one in charge. My whole board is filled with capable people.”

“Of course.”

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” Bruce says then, sounding more serious again, “Your parents disowned you for being gay? I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“That’s correct.”

“Honestly, he’s better off without them,” Cisco cuts in. Hartley’s tried his best to hide his discomfort at the topic, but he feels like the way he moves into him is supposed to be comforting. It works somewhat. “Now, Mr Wayne, you’ll probably see why the Rathaways aren’t the best partners.”

“Yeah, of course.”, Bruce agrees at once. “Had I known earlier…”

“If you can raid their bank accounts before terminating your connection, though…”

“Cisco!”

This time around, Bruce’s laugh sounds more honest. Seems like he has as much of a fucked up humour as the rest of them do. “That’s a great idea. Let’s see about this,” he promises with a wink. Hartley is pretty sure Cisco is swooning a bit. “Now, gentlemen, mind if I join the conversation I have interrupted earlier?”

Now, Hartley shoots a look at Cisco. They didn’t have a conversation going on except how to keep Bruce busy - and that’s certainly nothing that they can talk to him about. Obviously. And, well, despite the overwhelmed look in his eyes, it’s a fact that of the two of them, Cisco is better at improvising.

“I… Of course!”, Cisco starts slowly, probably going through his brain to think of something. “Say, Mr Wayne--”

“Bruce, please.”

“Bruce,” he nods, “What do you think of non-conventional therapy methods?”

“Babe, don’t--” He should’ve expected that this would be the first thing to come up - it’s one of the most frequent arguments that they have. Cisco’s insisting that he needs help would be insulting if it weren’t a demonstration of care. But still, he’s just glad Iris hasn’t jumped on that train yet because God knows she’d be psychoanalysing him…

“Well,” Bruce says. He looks only slightly surprised at the chosen topic. “I have a friend who specializes in the influence that plants have on the human mind. So if either of you is interested in nature--”

“I’m afraid I’m more of a music type.”, Hartley assures him. The only thing that plants could do for a person, in his opinion, is produce oxygen. And maybe that would help couch potatoes get a clearer mind, but otherwise? It seems like empty promises. Not that he’d consider buying into them.

He catches Bruce looking at his hearing aids for a moment. “Oh, I-- Aren’t you…?”

“Hard of hearing, yes,” Cisco explains. “That’s why he tries to deafen the rest of the world with the volume of his music.”

Now, Hartley starts to grin. Looks like the conversation is going his way now, he thinks, so he can have some fun, right? “Der Bass muss ficken,” he agrees.

He snickers at the confused look that Bruce sends him.

Cisco clears his throat, as if he were embarrassed despite not knowing what exactly Hartley’s just said. “He’s also learning German.”

“German!” Bruce repeats. “That’s interesting. Alfred, my butler, was stationed in Germany during the early years of the Cold--” He cuts himself off all of sudden, looking somewhere behind them. Something moving. “Sorry, I think I just saw a familiar face. I wouldn’t want to bore you with old stories, anyways, so if you’ll excuse me...”

“Oh, sure,” Hartley says after exchanging a look with Cisco. The chances are good that their plan works out. And either way, it’s not like he could just get lost, right?

“Thank you,” Bruce says, shaking their hands again. And yeah , you can really tell this guy was raised by a British man. “I hope you two enjoy your night.”

“You too,” Cisco says sweetly, “And don’t forget to rob the Rathaways.”

“I-- sure.”, Bruce says, but it’s apparent he doesn’t listen anymore. Instead, his eyes are searching again. In the next moment, he’s already stepped away.

“Well, he seems nice,” Cisco remarks. “And he really does look like the old Jack Kelly.”

Hartley frowns. “You know, I still don’t see it.”

-

There’s something that Eddie’s still not used to and that’s being called Detective Thawne. At the Police Academy, you only got addressed by your last name or - and his friends would certainly - the nickname people have come to give him: Detective Pretty Boy. He supposes he should get used to his official name soon if he wants to become a good cop. It’s not so much about climbing the career ladder as quickly as possible for him, but more that he wants to become well-known among the citizens; all of them should know he’s someone to come to with any problem.

So it’s no surprise that the first “Detective Thawne!” that he does hear sounds almost exasperated. They’ve probably already called after him for minutes by now. Eddie stops his trot and shakes his head softly, making his eyes snap back into focus. He really should’ve thought what attending this gala on duty would mean for how it would go. Of course he can’t hang out with his friends like he would’ve liked to. No need to act like he’s in a music video about self-isolating.

“Thank God. For a second there, I was thinking you were ignoring me.” And it’s Bruce Wayne who says that. Bruce Wayne who steps up to him after he called out for him.

Eddie can barely keep his mouth from falling open. “I-- Bruce?”

“Yes, hello. I hope it is not weird--” Bruce says, scratching his neck. He actually does look embarrassed. Holy shit, Bruce Wayne is embarrassed because of him. “I thought I caught sight of you earlier. I had no idea you’d be here!”

“Yeah, no. I’m… representing the CCPD, actually.”, Eddie explains. “Oliver mentioned you might join.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”, Bruce says seriously. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, and Eddie thinks he might swoon any second. “I wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate me talking to you. I mean, you never did shoot me a text--”

“Oh, I--”

“Of course, I can see you were busy! So, you’re employed here? Central must be glad.” He says it so easily, Eddie might just believe him. Which is weird because they’ve only talked once, so there’s no way Bruce could know him any well…

“I-- um, actually… I was kinda nervous?” The words slip out before Eddie can stop them - it’s like Bruce has the effect of honesty on him, for some reason. And yes, of course he has been nervous to text him. It’s Bruce Wayne! Billionaire playboy with the smile of a thousand watt, the guy who has about a thousand people running after him. There’s not even a real explanation as to why the hell he would remember a nobody such as him.

Bruce laughs at him in return, but, miraculously, it doesn’t sound vicious. “Nervous? Now, there’s no need for that! Edward—“ Eddie’s never been a big fan of his full name, but Bruce can pronounce it any time. “Only the most endearing people get ahold of my private number, let me assure you.”

There’s a soft smirk playing on his lips and he leans forward, looking at Eddie with something in his eyes that makes him gulp. Again, he responds without thinking. “Ha, then I guess Oliver doesn’t have it.”

It’s definitely not the answer Bruce expected, that’s for sure, and yet he takes pity on him. “No, he actually doesn’t, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh.”

Bruce licks his lips - why does he have to do that? - and traces his eyes down to Eddie’s suit jacket. Is he imagining the way they linger on his pin of a bi flag? No, this is… he may not have a lot of experience when it comes to billionaires (though more than most people, come to think of it) and Bruce intimidates him, obviously, but… This isn’t even just flirting, this is coming onto him. He’s not going insane, is he? How does this happen today of all days? He’s not working, not really, but it’s not like he should let himself be dragged away anyway, is it?

“Do you know anyone here? Besides me and Oliver, I mean,” he says quickly. “My captain is here somewhere. I’ve heard you’re interested in police business.”

There’s a glimmer of understanding in Bruce’s expression now. And not only that, Eddie could swear there’s disappointment, too. “Only superficially,” he says simply. “But I know the importance of etiquette for the job.”

So he understands it, too. And that fact? It means Eddie doesn’t read this wrong. It means if this were a different situation, then he could just hold onto the lapels of Bruce’s jacket and kiss the living shit out of him. But, right now, there’s no way he could do that, as much as he yearns to. He can feel his stomach do backflips as he takes in the smell of Bruce’s aftershave.

“But I also understand that galas such as these hold a representative value also,” Bruce continues. He sounds like he’s trailing off as he speaks, as if he were oblivious to the tension despite his words. At the way his eyes now shoot down to Eddie’s lips. Screw that, he is going crazy. “Which means they don’t last for too long. Even for a party boy such as Oliver Queen.”

“That… sound about right,” Eddie breathes.

“And you do have my number.” Bruce remarks. Suddenly, and yet slowly, he reaches up like he’s correcting Eddie’s tie, leaning closer. His breath ghosts over his cheek as he talks, “I think it’s time you finally make use of that.”

Eddie swallows. “I… Sounds like a great idea.”

Holy shit— and what a great idea it is. The best idea he’s ever heard, actually.

“Good,” Bruce nods, leaning away again. He slowly retracts his hand, grazing the back of it against Eddie’s chest in a motion and setting his insides aflame. “Now, I was taking to Hartley Rathaway earlier but left the conversation quite rudely when I saw you. I think I ought to go and apologize for that.”

Eddie blinks, “Hartley?”

“You know him?” Bruce wants to know. “Oliver had pointed me his way earlier.”

And suddenly everything falls together for Eddie. It’s been a ploy, the way Iris had sent him away just as Oliver must have done with Bruce. And Jesus, does he love his friends. He can’t hide his grin as he nods, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Chapter Text

“What the hell , Len?”

And God , if Bar hadn’t known before that something was up, then they definitely would do now . Len’s face mirrors what his voice has been like the past few days when they talked on the phone - hard and stoic, so unlike the way he usually melts around them (not like he’d ever admit it). And considering it’s the first time they see each other after Bar’s come home from their vacation, getting this as a greeting hurts .

“What,” he barks. Hell, he hasn’t even done as much as get up from where he’s lounging on his bed, one leg pulled up in the most leisure way. And he certainly didn’t even look at them ever since he’d yelled that the door is open in response to their knocking.

It makes Bar only more furious. Which, considering they’re usually pretty laid back, says a lot . “I’ve just been to Iron Heights,” they say firmly. “And apparently, so have you not too long ago.”

There’s no real reaction coming from Len at that. He slowly turns his head towards them, but only to look at them with a bored expression in place. He’s acting , that much Bar can tell - and they can also count the times this happened on one hand because he rarely feels like doing this around them. It’s a jab to their heart.

It’s funny, really. Usually, Bar feels like the world is rushing past them, pulling overwhelming stunts left and right. And they’d be lying if they claimed they aren’t overwhelmed right now (a mere look at their pulse would reveal that right away), but… it’s like the opposite. Right now, it’s like everything stopped, making room for the utter disbelief vibing off them.

At least their dad had waited until they were about to leave anyways before dropping those news because otherwise? They might have actually stormed off, which would have ultimately led to regretting it because it’s one of the rare times they get to see him. It says a lot about just how pissed they are that this is what would’ve happened.

And no , they aren’t pissed about the fact that apparently Len went to see his own father - because even with everything that has happened he has a right to do so, even if Bar doesn’t get why he’d want to - but because he wasn’t honest about it. Not that Bar thinks they have to tell each other literally everything , but they’ve asked him. About what was up, what made him leave the group and ignore pretty much everyone - including his sister. Maybe it’s been narcissistic but Bar had thought all that was because he’s missed them , and that he wouldn’t admit it because well, that’s Len.

But no, it all leads back to him randomly going to visit his father, the guy who’s ruined his life , completely on his own and not even telling anyone afterward.

Bar isn’t mad that it has obviously upset him, because that’s a given. No, it’s that he wouldn’t say anything about it. That they have to hear it from their dad who’s only heard snaps about it in the canteen.  

“Yeah,” Len says, acting all casual. And damn, he doesn’t even look away from them for a split second. “What about it?”

Bar wants to say all that’s been on their mind - that they just wished Len had told them about it instead of keeping secrets. Something irks them about it and they’re not sure if it’s this lack of honesty (though it isn’t even like Len lied or anything), something beyond their words. So what comes out is, “Your father ? Seriously?” The curiosity, the surprise, that’s what wins.

“Yeah, my father. Imagine that. Not yours, for once.”

Their mouth falls open at that. He’s never minded when Bar went to see their dad. He’s only tagged along twice and the last one has been his idea. Because Len likes Henry, he’s said so himself quite a number of times. There’s never been any kind of annoyance coming from him, no matter if Bar spent a whole day remembering how life was with him in the picture or when they wanted to visit him, when they changed plans because things became too much, reminded them too much of that night… It doesn’t make sense for him to talk like that.

“You hate your father,” they say, breathless all of sudden. “You-- he’s a mean-- Despicable --” They don’t even know how to describe him, really, because they don’t even know all of it. Len doesn’t bring it up often, understandably, but they know for a fact that his crimes go way beyond theft - Bar doesn’t know which dimension the abuse has gone, but either of those is unacceptable. It’s left Len vulnerable and unable to open up, scarred in more than one way.

“Well,” Len says slowly. He whips his leg to the side a bit, repeating the motion as he talks. His eyes are still on Bar, still as… cold as before. “At least I know that about my dad.”

And it clicks right away. What’s felt like a jab to the heart before has now turned into ripping it out. There’s a line you don’t cross with them - a line they’d never expected Len to cross, but here he is, stomping past it. And not just that, it’s equivalent to directly spitting into their face. Because what Len implies? It’s what Bar’s had to hear throughout their entire childhood. What they have always denied (because it isn’t the truth ) and had to have thrown at them time and time again. It’s what’s given them nightmares, almost more so than that actual night - the idea, the belief that their father had actually done it. That Len had openly and freely stated it that early, the fact that he believes them, it’s a big part of their relationship.

So.

Hearing this?

It makes them choke right away, heat rushing into their cheeks, their eyes, their throat.

They turn around in that instant, not even checking if there’s any sign of remorse, of understanding what he’s just said , in Len’s face. They need to get out of here, as soon as possible, away from this betrayal. From this pain. From this… from this liar .

Chapter Text

Joe’s always been known as a man of heart. If the reputation hadn’t followed him before, then it’s been ever since he took in Barry after his childhood tragedy. He’s trusted his guts more than anything while investigating, finding his own way of dealing with perps rather than going the same way with each of them. And maybe, just maybe, he’s grown soft with his age. Yep, he’s at the stage where mid-40s are considered old, apparently - his kids tell him often enough. It’s funny, really, because he’s always thought raising two kids, one of those not even being his own, has turned him stubborn. Wally’s entrance into their lives should have already proved him wrong (Lord knows he can’t say no to that boy) but he figured with strangers…

Because that’s what Leonard Snart had been when Joe had first met him - nothing more than a stranger. He hadn’t known the guy, only seen him twice in his life (the first time when he arrested him), and yet he’s felt like there’s something about him worth believing in. Worth trusting. And then the guy had gone ahead and befriended his kids, even started dating one of them. And Joe hadn’t minded as much as he should have. Because yes, Snart was a thief, a skilled one at that, but he’s also been brought into this form childhood. Giving him the benefit of doubt, guiding him into a different path of life, had seemed to be the right thing to him.

He should have known it would backfire on him. The whole thing about giving both Snart and Rory a second (a third ) chance rather than sending them to prison. He’s advocated for them, displayed the troubles they must have gone through (only supported by the present psychologist), and how there’s a possibility that they can still improve. There’s been moments where Joe has actually it to blow up in his face, but truth be told, he’d always thought it would be Rory who screws up. He’s way more hot-headed (literally) and doesn’t seem to think much before acting - the perfect contrast to Snart, the planner. In the past few months he’s learnt that this isn’t all there is, though. That Rory has a mind of his own, quiet thoughts that lie under all of his actions even if it doesn’t seem that way. And that Snart can be impulsive, too. First impressions can be wrong, even to someone as experienced as Joe West.

The evidence is right in front of him, behind a row of bars in the far corner of the police station.

Snart has expected him, of course, even if he doesn’t show it that obviously. He isn’t at the edge of the bench he was parked on, frantically staring at the door. Instead he’s lounging there in a way that reminds Joe of a cat, oddly enough, with one leg pulled up to his chest and his arm resting on that knee. It looks like he’s right at home there except for the fact that he’s not . Joe doesn’t think he’s ever truly seen him at ease , not with him present, but the way his eyes are narrowed speaks of tension.

Not to mention the black eye starting to blossom on his face. He looks all like the bad guy he wants people to believe he is, wearing his leather jacket and the pissed off expression he displays. It’s what Joe had feared would screw Barry over - and maybe it has. He doesn’t know the exact context of the fight between the two of them, just that it’s upset his son greatly; and thinking about how thoughtful Snart has been around him before (even about the smallest things, always considering how it would make Bar feel) so that sudden change was… more than weird.

“Oh hell,” Thawne says behind him suddenly. Truth be told, Joe had almost forgotten that he was there, too occupied with worrying about what the hell Snart has gotten himself into. He’s probably heard of Snart in some way, given that Joe is the responsible parole officer for him, and seeing this? It must fulfill everything he’s pictured about the guy. It explains why it sounds more like a sigh than actual statement.

“Indeed,” Joe agrees. He’s halfway about to send Thawne away - as pissed as he is at Snart, he doesn’t think this needs any more attention. But maybe having him present would help keep this professional, remind him that this is in no way a private conversation as much as it feels like that. And then, of course, the rookie is supposed to learn from him, even things like this. So yeah, keeping him around.

Snart face grows into a smirk as Joe steps up to the holding cell. “Detective,” he says calmly and yet with a sneer. It reminds Joe of their first few encounters, the way Snart had found it necessary to keep the upper hand. A huge contrast to what he has become. Or at least what Joe thought he had become.

“Snart,” he says as a way of greeting. And then, because he can’t help himself when the guy stares at him like this - so… not actively vicious but the way he lacks any emotion… Now, Snart isn’t the most expressive person, at least not face-wise, but it’s never this cold . There’s always a mask of politeness at least, but that’s gone now, too - he adds, “What the hell?”

Snart doesn’t react to his question (of course he doesn’t) but lets his gaze wander. When his eyes fall on Thawne, his lips twitch a little, like he’s actually about to smirk . If Joe hadn’t already regretted letting a convict into his life, then he would have done so now. How many times had he complained about the new rookie when Snart was present? Sometimes even discussed it with him? He’s been giving him so much power, in a sense, for the way that he’s going to treat the newbie. And not to mention how he must have hurt himself in some way on the weekend - he’s caught him wince whenever they sat down or got out of the car, almost like he’s twisted his back or something. Suddenly Joe’s caught by a wave of empathy for the guy.

Before Snart can say anything, though (and if he did, it would be something more vicious than taunting , Joe knows), he speaks up. “A fist fight? That’s not you.”

He can sense the nervosity radiating off Thawne, feels him shiting back and forth behind him, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Snart. It takes a moment, but then he lets off Thawne, instead looking back into nothingness. It almost seems like a forced aura of disinterest, like he’s not actually meaning his behaviour but putting on a show. It’s… worrying, actually, as pissed as Joe is at him at the moment.

“I’m… uh, I’ll leave--” Thawne declares suddenly, drawing Snart’s attention onto himself once again. Where Joe expected to find amusement written into Snart’s face, he finds something he can’t quite place. His lips part slightly before he presses them together again, almost like he’s making himself stay silent, all the while his eyes are narrowed in Thawne’s direction. It isn’t an action directed at Thawne but more at himself.

“Yeah,” Joe decides, “You better do that.”

He doesn’t turn around to watch him leave; and neither does Snart. His eyes stay away from Thawne now, almost like the statement alone made him boring. Still, even without any sound indication that Thawne has left the room, Joe knows when it’s the case just by watching the way Snart carries himself. He doesn’t look relaxed, not exactly - even though he tries his best to seem that way; all calm and chill - but there’s a change in his posture once they’re on their own.

“Snart,” Joe says again, this time even more pressing than before. He knows that there’s only a minimal chance of him opening up - at least to him, at least in this environment - but that’s what he’s gotten himself into. He’s stepped past the line where Joe would have Barry act as a mediator (same for any other of his kids, actually), simply because the rules have been explained to Snart time and time again. And seriously? It goes without saying that getting drunk and punching people (and not just any people but rich, influential ones) is a stupid idea if you’re on parole.

Snart’s eyes practically snap up at him this time; such a contrast to the display to laziness that he put on before, that Joe finds himself backing away from the bars a little. It isn’t even that he thinks Snart would attack him - though, given why he’s here, that faith may be displaced - but just… something is up and he can’t tell what.

“I don’t regret it.” Snart states, answering a question that didn’t even occur to Joe. He wants an explanation, a reasoning, an apology - if not towards Fuller, then towards him. For breaking this trust. For screwing things up with his son; because Joe may not be too involved into those things, but he’s seen Barry spiralling and the topic of Snart being avoided. So whatever happened between them…

“Didn’t think you would.” Joe replies. It’s a lie - he sounds like he claims Snart never regretted anything, when he knows that’s far from the truth. He knows that he’s actively tried to change his life for the better, has seen it, and the only reason he throws it back into his face is to provoke him more than anything else. It feels like venom on his tongue. “Beating up billionaires? That’s how we all like to spend our Sunday nights.”

Snart lets out a breathless laugh at that. “Better than being bored.” He shrugs. Joe can tell that’s not all there is to it.

“Snart, if there’s anything you could say to save yourself here--”

“ Save myself ,” Snart echoes, raising an eyebrow. There’s something mocking in his voice - it’s not a question, it’s doubt . “That’s quite dramatic.”

“‘Course it’s dramatic!” Joe bellows at once. He surges forward before he can stop himself, grabbing onto the bars. “You’re about to face prison - again ! All you’ve-- we’ve worked for these past months, you’ve ruined that! And for what? Because someone had something you wanted? Because you were jealous?”

Snart’s mouth falls open, almost like he wants to reply something, defend himself, almost like this does the trick-- but then he closes it again. Joe watches him swallow and avert his eyes. He’s completely still as he looks down on the ground.

It makes him want to scream. The Snart he knows is headstrong, won’t back down from at least stating his opinion, and yet he sits here and… it’s like a different person has slipped into his skin.

With a shake of his head, Joe turns away from the holding cell. Maybe (hopefully) some time in silence will help him clear his head. Joe paces back to his desk, not really sure what he’s planning to do to stop himself from exploding, but when he sees Thawne sit up upon seeing him, he feels like that would happen either way. It’s just his day today, isn’t it?

“Detective West?” Thawne’s voice is small as he speaks up. It would be easy to just ignore him, Joe thinks, but of course he can’t do that. Especially not when Thawne gets up (groaning at the remainder of his injury or whatever it is) and rounds their tables until he stands next to him. “I-- You should know that Rory is on his way here.”

Joe’s eyes fall open. Rory? Now that doesn’t make sense. Snart didn’t even miss his curfew yet, so there’d be no reason for Rory to come to the station on a Sunday night. Has he called in? Demanded to know where Snart was? (Had he missed a private agreement?) If he did, Joe couldn’t blame Thawne for giving into that intimidation and answering questions.

“And, um, Bar-- Barry, too.” Thawne continues, shifting his stance a bit.

“What?” Joe demands. Usually, he wouldn’t mind Barry stopping by, but given the circumstances - then it clicks. “Wait. Did you tell him?” Hell, he didn’t even think that the two of them had each other’s numbers, with the handful of times they’d ever interacted. Sure, Thawne’s pretty much the same age as his older kids, but that doesn’t guarantee something like this when all they’ve ever said to one another was ‘hey, how are things?’ At least Joe thinks so. Hell, he doesn’t get that generation.

He watches Thawne duck his head at once, only to slowly lift it again like a turtle does. “I-- Something’s up with Snart. Has been for a while and I-- I’ve never seen him like this. So yeah, I’ve asked if anyone knew what happened and there might actually be a reason. And, of course, those two would want to check in on him. You know how they are.” He says the whole thing without stopping for breath, as if he wants to get it out before he loses the courage. And given the fact that he passed on secret intel, that’s what he’s gotta have for that confession.

But something else irks Joe, too. “Why do you sound so familiar to them?” Snart never stopped by while Joe was on duty - the couple of times that this has happened, he’s always been dragged here by Barry. Joe’s always supposed that this place made him feel uncomfortable which would make sense, considering his past. So there’s actually no way that Thawne could know about the way Snart has behaved ‘for a while’ now. He couldn’t have paid closer attention to him or anything except if he’d decided to go behind Joe’s back - if he didn’t trust his judgement as to how he deals with Snart (and Rory for that matter). Is that it? He doesn’t think Joe’s any good at his job? Sure, this rookie has to appear and think he’d better than him because-- because what ? He’s only just finished the Academy, no actual experience back his opinions and behaviour. He’s a joke.

“Because I know them.” Thawne answers, cutting off the way Joe’s thoughts spiral. There’s a certain determination in his voice, fighting off any doubts that he could have has about his previous statement. “Snart’s visited his father while Bar was gone to National. And even since then… It’s knocked him off his feet.”

Jo blinks at him, not sure what to say. How the hell does he know all these things? About Barry’s vacation and where he went? He’s had his fight with Snart right after he came back, that’s true, but how would Thawne know when his son wouldn’t even share anything about it with him ? “Lewis Snart didn’t get any visitors these past months.” He hears himself say. It’s true, he’s arranged that he’d be informed about that. He’s seen enough about how Lewis had treated his kids to not monitor whether they go to see him.

“Then it went off the record, I don’t know!” Thawne hisses, aggravated more than Joe has ever seen him before. “But Bar said that he had and Mick thinks that’s what’s set this off and--”

“How do you know them?” Finally that question’s out. That kind of familiarity, it makes Joe blurt out the question. There’s more pressing things at hand, especially if somehow Snart had one to see his father without anyone knowing about it, but he can’t help but wonder about this. This definitely isn’t the kind of things you just chat about with a stranger.

Thawne hesitates for a moment and licks his lips. He’s tense, much so, and Joe doesn’t miss the way he subconsciously touches the front pocket of his pants. Right pocket, where people usually store their phones.

“You’re in the groupchat.” Joe pieces together. Granted, he doesn’t know too much about it, only that it’s where his kids met Snart and Rory and that it’s what absorbs most of their time at the moment, but that group - however many members it may have - seems like a tight one. Like they’d share this kind of stuff.

There’s surprise in Thawne’s eyes for a moment, but then he simply nods.

“That means-- For how long?”

“I-- What?”

“For how long have you known my kids,” Joe finishes. They’ve known Snart at least since November - bit earlier maybe. At what rate are members added to that group? What came first: the group or his job at the CCPD?

Again, Thawne licks his lips, avoiding Joe’s eyes. It’s almost a whisper when he answers, “October.”

“October?” Joe echoes. “You’ve known my children since October and never thought to mention that?” Not just Thawne, but Iris and Barry, too. Where’s the problem with just mentioning it when they first learnt who his new partner would be= If it were just Barry, Joe could let Thawne’s behaviour slide. But there’s Iris, too - and it’s right in her name. And, come to think of it, Snart and Rory should know about all this, too.

“I--” If he weren’t this mad - because seriously? You wanna know if your partner has any connection to your kids, especially about a positive one. It makes the whole watching-out-for-each-other even more important - he would care about the fear written into Thawne’s face. He watches him flinch at his words, as if there were something he’s just waiting to drop. “I didn’t--”

“Joe!” A voice comes suddenly, interrupting whatever excuse Thawne had meant to come up with. And the anger that Joe had felt just in that moment? It disappears when he sees his son, probably more distressed than he’s looked in the past years - recent events, downright panic attacks and meltdowns included. This time, there’s something in his eyes that’s different, something in these wide eyes and reddened cheeks-- “Don’t-- It isn’t his fault, he’s--”

Joe draws in a breath, turning towards Barry - as did Thawne, he might add, who - of course - almost smiled happily upon the interruption. “I know.”

“He’s probably not even thinking straight, you know, because--” Barry stops, blinking at him. “You know?”

In return, Joe just nods grimly and shoots a pointed look at Thawne. Who has at least the courtesy to look guilty, though he can’t tell if it’s about the whole lying thing or about ordering Barry to come here or something entirely else.

Bar’s eyes grow wide at that, possibly even more so at Thawne than at him. “ Oh .”

“Yeah,” Joe says. Good to know they are all in the know about the whole thing now. “We’ll deal with that later. For now: You have absolutely no business being here, son.”

What a lot of people seem to forgot about Barry Allen is that the tragedies of his life have actually given him something beyond pain, trauma and anxiety. Time and time again Joe finds himself reminded of the fact that first and foremost - and thankfully - Barry has also gained something: determination and faith in his own beliefs. He doesn’t demonstrate it as often as he should, but right now - the change in his expression is almost spooky.

“Like hell I don’t! When my boyfriend fucks up his life because he’s been stuck in a bad episode and I didn’t even notice because I was so busy having fun— Honestly? It’s my fault—“

“It’s not.” Thawne cuts in, voice soft but decided. “Bar, you didn’t even know .” It’s exactly what Joe meant to say - because as pissed as he is at the kid it goes without saying that he won’t let him hate himself like this - and it irks him. They aren’t supposed to be this close.

“Still coulda passed s’mthin’ on,” another voice speaks up, standing against a wall a few meters away. Mick Rory never looks really put together, but now he’s… disheveled . He’s left out his usual bomber jacket, even though it’s early April, and got his Henley tucked in at some place and loose at another. Not to mention the more than grim expression painted onto his forehead.

“Mick!” Bar calls at once, sounding alarmed in a way that wasn’t even there before. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea about what—“

“Coulda figured’t out.” Rory presses out, not even looking at him. Instead, he looks at Joe when he pushes himself off the wall. “Where’s he?”

Joe holds his gaze; Rory is unhappy, that much is clear, but none of that is directed at him. And yet he knows it’d make no sense to try and keep it a secret from him. He’d bulldoze through the station if need be and hell , he doesn’t need the other guy he’s  supposed to keep in check to be arrested, too. He feels like there’s no way to get rid off Barry either.

Joe sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Holding cell. Got into a fight at Max Fuller’s nightclub—“

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Rory mutters. Joe can’t help but agree. “Guy could never hold his own.”

Thawne snorts. “You telling me Snart’s no good with a fist—“ He shuts up when they all look over at him.

Bar jumps into the silence at once, almost like he was just waiting for it. “Joe, I need to see him. Please, I just wanna—“ There’s probably a lot he wants to do, Joe can imagine. He can think of a number of things he’d like to do right now, but none of those are appropriate for the station in the middle of the night. He watches as his son trails off, not sure what he should do first, probably, and finally just closes with, “ Please .”

Rory isn’t like Barry (of course not) so he just huffs and starts walking past them. They all knows where the holding cell is, but nobody would’ve just walked up there without being allowed to. Well, nobody except Michael Lincoln Rory, apparently.

“Hey, Rory, you can't just—“ Joe starts, out of principle rather than anything else because he knows his words hold no meaning here. He’s not even surprised that both Barry and Thawne trot after him when he sets off to follow Rory.

Truth be told, he would’ve expected that Rory’d start fuming as soon as he sets eyes on Snart, but this time he has been mistaken. Rory has stopped on his tracks, completely frozen as he stares at Snart and the way he’s still lounging behind the bars.

“God, Len ,” Barry breathes into Joe’s neck, and he can feel the way he raises his hand to his mouth. Which is strange, actually, because the only visible damage Snart got from this is a split lip and a bruised cheekbone. Hell, he’s pretty sure there’s been times where an argument with Rory made him look worse. But apparently Barry can see something beyond that. “Jesus—“

The whole company has made Snart look up and now , finally, he actually has an honest reaction. As his eyes wander from Rory to Barry, Joe can see them grow softer, even surprised at the latter and— yeah, they were having a fight. But if Snart knows his son any well, he should know there’s barely anything to make him not care anymore.

“Dang, Lenny, ya fuckin’ idiot,” Rory says instead of a greeting. There’s something else passing between them, but it’s conveyed in a single look.

Joe probably shouldn’t be surprised that it coaxes actual information out of Snart. He shrugs, “He had it coming.” And then he leans back again, almost like he wants to downplay the importance of them showing up here. “Kept throwing around slurs.”

“What, that guy was racist to you?” Bar wants to know. He sounds downright shocked.

It makes Snart break into a smirk - a genuine one, not like the sarcasm he gave Joe and Thawne earlier. “Babe, I’m probably the whitest black guy you’ll find between here and Freeland.” Okay , seems like Joe should check out how exactly Snart knows Tobias before that blows up at them, too. “I doubt he even knows that I’m a brother .”

But still, if insults are the reason for the way Snart lashed out, things could play in their favour after all. Because if Fuller wants to keep his name clean, he’ll drop the charges before word got out. “What’d Fuller call you?”

“ Fuller ?” Thawne interrupts before Snart can even open his mouth. “You decked Max Fuller himself?”

Joe doesn’t miss the icy look that Snart throws at Thawne and honestly ? He can’t mind him.

“Wait. If there’s proper reasoning - if you defended yourself— Len can’t be held responsible for it, right?” Barry reasons. He’s rushing forward and holding onto the bars, spotting a grin. “So you don’t have to keep him!” He adds with a look back at Joe.

He shakes his head. “No. He’s gotta stay in for the night to sober up.” Which is to say, he doubts Snart has been drunk in the first place, but his alcohol level would say so about any other person.

Mick just snorts at the same moment that Snart rolls his eyes.

Barry looks let down for a moment but then his face goes back to the determination he’s had before. “Then I’ll stay, too.”

“What? No!” What makes him even think that Joe would ever let him get closer to a holding cell than this?

At least Snart agrees with him. He looks almost amused as he shakes his head, momentarily forgetting himself apparently. For the first time since he got into that cell, his face looks almost soft . “Bar, that may be your name but it doesn’t mean you’re supposed to be behind any.”

“But—“ Barry starts, “But… we need to talk .”

Snart stops for a second, just looking at him. Joe almost expects him to sigh and decline, but instead he holds his gaze and nods . “Yeah, we do. But on our own .” It’s a promise, that much is clear, and Joe would be lying if he claimed he isn’t relieved by that.

“Well, my name’s on bars,” Rory says, pushing forward towards the door, growing more impatient by the second apparently. He’s definitely more direct than even the most desperate Barry. “So, detective…”

“Rory, you got no business in there either.”

Rory’s lip twitches at that. “Really? ‘Cuz lemme tell ya, once I got my hands on that guy,” he jerks his thumb into Snart’s direction, “I’ll end up in there anyway.”

He’s probably right, Joe knows that. With all the times and ways that Snart’s tried to keep Rory in check these past months, almost as if he didn’t trust he could go straight - the fact that he is the one screwing up now must make Rory even more furious than Joe is. There’s a huge guarantee that their first confrontation would be with their fists rather than words. “Hell, I can’t have you throw a show in here, you know that.”

“Won’t happen,” Mick promises in a huff. “Dude already got his ass beaten today.”

That bluntness makes them all, even Snart, let out a small chuckle. Joe doesn’t need to get Thawne‘s opinion on this, not by far, and he knows that with the revelation that the guy knows that as well as he does it doesn’t make sense, but he finds himself looking back at him. The look he gets in return is almost pleading, and he can tell that they’re thinking the same thing: if anyone can talk some sense back into Snart and make it stick, it’s Rory. Even in his most serious state, Barry is way too soft - and not only that; the history between Rory and Snart plays into everything.

Rory reads his hesitation the wrong way. “I don’t need to get in here, ya know? Floor looks comfy.” He nods down to the ground.

Joe sighs - he knows that it’s no empty threat, that Rory will spend the night here one way or another - and finally reaches for his set of keys. “Fine.”

The smile he gets in return is… well, it’s shit-eating. As if he’d already known that he’ll get his way. What does that say about his qualities as a cop? Joe doesn’t want to think about it too hard.

“If I hear anything about you bumping heads,” he starts as he opens the door, “your asses will end in prison. No ,“ he adds, dropping Barry from sneaking in beside Rory.

“Thanks, detective,” Rory nods, sounding actually serious. He doesn’t approach Snart just yet, even though their attention lies on each other more than anywhere else.

“Fix him,” Joe orders. That’s what he wants in response; to have Snart back at what he became since they first met. Then he remembers something and holds out his hand. “Phone.” It’s bad enough he’s got him in there (and that his partner knows no bounds about sharing information with bystanders), he doesn’t need him texting away about everything.

After Rory has given him the device and nodded at him once more, he turns back to Barry, looking from him to Thawne. “Now, we need to talk.”

Thawne gulps.

Barry doesn’t. He stands up straight, crossing his arms as if he doesn’t plan on moving any time soon. “Why can Mick go in there and I can’t?” He demands.

There’s a lot of answers to that one, but Joe has rather they left them on their own as soon as possible. He groans and grips into the back of Barry’s jacket and pulls him with.

Lightweight.

Chapter Text

Something obvious: no matter what happens, no matter where he goes - Leonard Snart will always come back to Central City. Maybe not the neighbourhood he grew up in, maybe not the place he stays at right now, and maybe not the next ghetto and neither High Society. But somehow, he will always be tied to the grounds of this city in one way or another. It’s the reason why he didn’t fuck off the moment his father got arrested (the many moments) or when Lise got moved away; miraculously and incomprehensibly, he loves this city. It’s his home.

It’s why he didn’t even feel anything in particular when his probation read he can’t leave the city grounds. If he were still trying to pull stunts, it would have only inconvenienced him a little. As it is, though, it doesn’t even matter. At all.

And yet, there are times where he feels like he needs to get out, away from the high buildings and the people and the parks… of course, he can’t. But there’s a forest just behind Saints & Sinners that is technically completely inside the city’s borders (he’s checked multiple times), and he tends to find himself here more and more often recently.

Not while he was spiralling - and he knows he was -, no. Then, as he fucked up everything that matters, acting like he was stuck in a bubble and on autopilot - as if he wasn’t responsible for his own doings - he’d spent most of his time tumbling from bar to bar. And as he thinks back on it now, it’d be easy to shake off any responsibility. It’s been so unlike himself.

Snart’s a drinker, that’s without a doubt. He likes alcohol and he can take a lot of it - part genetics and part training - but usually he doesn’t give himself pity parties and he doesn’t get completely wasted. His pride is way too big for that and also the latter is usually Mick’s part. And he cleans up after the manbaby.

But if there’s one thing that Snart has been taught an excelled at every since, it’s this: hating himself. So he admits his own fault in the whole thing. It’s not like anyone made him act like the biggest jerk. He should’ve known better than to let his emotions get the best of him.

Now, he’s hauled himself up onto one of the trees - not too high up (his head is barely higher than it would be if he were standing) - with a sketchbook on his lap. Sketching trees has something calming and as he waits for Bar to arrive, that’s what he needs. He can see why they’re mad, really. He shouldn’t have promised a talk and then postponed it again and again without even telling them. But knowing his bullshit, he really didn’t want to put that on them, too. And of course Bar doesn’t appreciate that kind of patronizing.

He hasn’t needed to tell them where exactly he is. They know this place, the solitude so close to action; he’s showed them a few weeks back and he has never minded sharing it with them. It’d make sense for such a conversation to happen here.

It doesn’t take too long until they show up, hair wind-swept and a bit of sweat across their forehead. They ran here and even with the last bit of distance Snart can see how pissed they are. He quickly shoves away the appreciation making room for itself in his mind - it’s really not the time for that, as pretty as they are.

He pushes himself up and puts his sketchbook away, turning so that he sits sideways on the branch and faces them in anticipation. There’s no way he won’t get his ass handed to him, that much is clear. He’s overstepped so many lines lately, acted like the worst version of himself and completely fucking up everything.

Bar’s eyes are narrowed when they come to a halt in front of him. They barely have to raise their head to look at him, that’s how small this tree is. “You’re an asshole.” They say decidedly.

Snart clicks his tongue. “Wow, I’ve never heard you say it this viciously.” It’s the truth and it stings a little because while he’s used to the insult, he isn’t used to hearing it from them. Only jokingly, sarcastically, at most.

“Because I never meant it before.” They simply state. It’s a dangerous tone that their voice takes - a rare one, one that he’s only encountered a few times. It means there’s no arguing with them about what they’ve just said. And it’s fine with Snart, because that’s what he deserves. That’s how it should be.

Regardless, he needs to say something. “I’m sorry.” He says, and, surprisingly, it doesn’t taste like acid in his throat. Maybe because he actually means it this time around.

Bar doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead, they’re looking down at where they start picking at the tree’s bark. “Why’d you go visit your father?”

And that’s what Snart loves so much: the analytical part of Bar, hidden but not useless under everything else that makes them; it’s what will make them such a good forensic. They know what the big issue has been. Not their own father but his , no matter what he’s said out loud. And they know that, at least according to his own words, he’d never visit Lewis Snart voluntarily. That he wouldn’t care if the old man died except for celebrating it, maybe.

And yet… “Got a call that he was injured.” Snart states gruffly.

He doesn’t expect them to understand. He doesn’t even understand it himself. The drop of his stomach upon just hearing ‘got a beating’ - and to this day he can’t quite describe it. It might have been regret. About how it hasn’t been his doing, how he’s missed his chance for revenge. It might have been shock. Because even with how fucked up he had been, what an asshole he had been, Lewis had been his dad at some point. And even after things had gone wrong, he’d been the one constant in his life; until Mick at least. (Because Lisa wasn’t supposed to be a constant. He had actually wanted her to leave this shithole and all the memories behind when she got the chance. Stupid sentimentality that brought her back.)

Bar huffs and opens their mouth like they want to say something. But then they close it again, firm expression in place as they urge him to go on with a simple glance. As much as they can argue and challenge each other, they also know when to leave the other be, which might be the thing that’s let their relationship go on for so long. Until Snart’s fucked it up, of course.

“When I got there,” Snart continues, “he was just sitting there and grinning like-- He figured I wouldn’t stop by just because he asked for it, so he bribed a guard to call me.”

“At least he’s self-aware,” Bar mumbles. Snart thinks it wasn’t supposed to be for his ears, but he can’t hold back a dry chuckle at that. Their eyes flicker up and he can see some sadness written into them. That’s not different from any other time, it’s caused by the tragedy, but it’s always coated by something - excitement, happiness, warmth. Seeing them raw like this, it’s still rare even to him, and knowing it’s because of his feels wrong . He wishes it were easy. That he could kiss it away or start talking about some nerd shit that Bar is into and make them girn again. Instead, he watches as they bite their lip. “What did he want?” They ask quietly.

Snart raises his shoulders a little. “When someone’s actually guilty of something, even prison can’t stop them from continuing.” And oh , how well he knows.

“He wanted you to pull a stunt?” Bar pieces together. And they actually sound surprised.

“Yeah.” Snart’s not really sure how to continue. How to describe what’s been going on inside of him then.

“That fucking son of a bitch--” Any other moment and Snart would enjoy one of the few moments where Bar really swears. Right now, though, each word feels like a stab to the heart. “How does he think he can still manipulate-- That he still has any influence on you?” They say it like even imagining that is crazy.

“That’s the thing,” Snart interrupts and catches their hands. He’s pretty sure they didn’t even notice the way they started flailing. “He does.”

“Len--” Bar starts, a sad tone in their voice mixed with a certain determination, and Snart knows what kind of speech would follow next. And, quite frankly, he’s starting to get annoyed by that… that faith that people misplace in him, most of all Bar. Even now when they have every right to give up on him.

He drops their hands and says. “No.” Then he takes in a breath and finally admits, “You know, I considered it.” He isn’t a liar. At least not usually. He avoids and bends topics and uses sarcasm, but he doesn’t lie; especially not to Bar (except that one time that got them here). So why should he start now? There’s no reason to say he didn’t feel the adrenaline rushing through his body at the offer. No reason to claim he didn’t already picture it - him crouched over plans, preparing the next heist in careful detail--

“You what ?” It’s not anger, it’s not disappointment either. For once, Snart can’t tell what’s playing into Bar’s voice. But then, they draw in a breath and he catches them close their eyes for a moment. “I get it.” They finally say.

Snart glares at them. “No, you don’t.” How could they? Bar would never even consider harming a single person in any way. Hell, they’re dedicating their entire life to helping people. They’re so different, he notices time and time again.

Bar tilts their head. “Okay, maybe not really. But I know, okay? Your kleptomania, it’s been triggered by that offer and--”

“No, you don’t get it!” Snarts bursts out, surprising both of them, but he can’t make himself lower his voice. “I sat there and saw him and-- that’s my future, okay? I know it is. Give it a few years andI’ll be there, finally behind those damned bars for good and it doesn’t even matter what I do right now because deep down I’m still the same and will always be--”

This time it’s him who started moving without realizing. Usually, Snart is more of a silent type, so it’s no surprise he starts trembling when he’s angry rather than gesturing. But usually it’s pretty tame; now, Bar has to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him at least slightly. He looks up again and is met with a stern look. “Len. What’d you tell him?”

“What does it matter?”

“Oh, a lot.” They respond. “So, are you doing it or not?”

“I told him to go fuck himself.” Snart answers grimly. He can still see the small roll of Lewis’ eyes, like he isn’t taking him seriously. As if he still has the upper hand, even now that he’s in prison and Snart is free; and the fact that he came running so willingly is only proof of that, he knows.

For the first time today, Bar’s actually wearing a smile. “See?” They cheer. “That’s the difference. You could’ve caved but you chose not to!”

Snart groans. “Spare me the speech.”

“Len,” they say, once again, but now the smile is gone and back is the determination. “I mean it. That choice you made? It’s who you are and who you’ll be. You’re getting your degree and you’ll take that job in the museum and be good , get it?”

“ Good ,” Snart repeats with a small snort. There’s a lot that he is, and good certainly isn’t one of those things. But Bar has always thought so, and the fact that they still believe it… “I didn’t mean what I said about Henry, you know?”

“I know.” Bar nods solemnly. They don’t ask why he said it - and to this day he isn’t sure about that either. It might have been a reflection of the anger he’s felt at his own father (not just because of the offer but because of the play arranged to lure him into the Heights), maybe it’s been jealousy because Bar can at least believe in Henry. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a reflex. Pushing them away from him before he ruins them, too. Maybe it was all of this. And maybe Bar knows.

“The thing is,” they continue, “you did say it. And I-- I can’t just ignore that. And you can’t just change what you tell me and not with this . It’s too important.”

It’s the most important thing to them.

“I know.” Snart nods.

Their eyes are firm as they talk. “I can’t just forgive you. What-- I need time.”

“Yeah.” That’s no surprise. If it were up to him, Snart would make them drop him completely. But if today taught him anything, it’s that he shouldn’t make decisions for them. And the big selfish part of him can’t help but be delighted that they’re still giving him a chance. “Thanks.”

“I love you,” they simply say. Not as an explanation and not as a promise. As a fact. And yet it makes hope spread across Snart’s chest.

There’s no kiss, no embrace, no touching at all. Just them, talking. And yet it’s one of the most intimate moments he’s ever experienced.

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Joe should’ve listened to his Grandma Esther. She’d always said his kids are too clever for his own good and that they’ll be nothing if not troublemakers. Back then he had been too preoccupied by the way she easily accepted Barry into the family, looking at him with her soft and warm (yet empty) eyes and treating him like any other of her great-grandchildren. It might have helped that she was blind, he thinks, because Lord knows old black ladies are weird about that kinda thing.

Anyways, what’s important is: she was right . And with everything that’s happened lately, he should have been aware of that, kinda was, actually but… he didn’t count in Wally. Because for starters, Esther - God bless her - passed away before his boy had been born, and then also because he wasn’t raised by him. Thought maybe it was his influence that turned his kids into the little shits that they are nowadays. That he let them too much room or something, given his field of work. And from what he’d seen Wally has always been a fine guy; his dive into car racing ignored because that stunt had been out of desperation and grief. He’s pretty sure that, aside from that, Wally has never even used a white lie on him.

Well, at least he thought so. Until now.

Look, he is a detective, so maybe he should’ve paid more attention to the fact that Wally asked him to bring a ridiculously huge amout of food from Big Belly’s, but he figured since Jax would be over and that guy is a jock, it’d make sense. They’re two growing teenage boys, not to mention that Barry’s appetite has returned recently (thank God), so nothing would’ve gone to waste anyways. Might have been a bit weird that it wasn’t just a single order with an enormous number but rather multiple detailed ones, but - truth be told - he’s long past questioning his family’s quirks. 

Still, if Singh knew how surprised he is by his living room being swamped by people, he’d fire him right on the spot. Not to mention that he does know them to some extend, but… hey , seeing Oliver Queen lounging on his pops’ armchair is definitely nothing he’d ever have pictured in his whole life. Hell, he’s never even been concerned with the guy’s existence except for the few times he’s run into Captain Lance from SCPD and had to listen to his countless complaints about him because apparently he’s been dating not one, but both his daughters at some point. … Of which one - the younger, Sara - is here, too, sitting right there on the floor of his living room with nothing other than his son’s girlfriend’s head in her lap.

Damn, he needs a drink.

“Joe!” Comes a voice from the kitchen suddenly, and like she’s reading his mind, Linda is putting a glass of cognac - undoubtedly from his own cabinet - into his hand. “You’re right on time!” And the bright smile she puts on only makes him guess even more that this is all her doing. 

“Linda Maryse Park,” he says slowly, dragging out the name. Hell, whatever’s coming next is gonna be such a pain in the ass. He’s not even gotten around to count the people chatting in his house, but he’s recognized most of them, including the Rathaway kid that Wally randomly befriended and none other than Eddie Thawne, because that’s his life nowadays apparently. “I will ground you.”

“I don’t doubt you could,” she says completely seriously, nodding along. “But maybe you won’t want to.”

Joe narrows his eyes at her. “What’s going on here?”

Linda tilts her head. “An explanation,” she states and walks around him and into the living room. They all keep talking away, multiple conversations at once, easy-going, and Joe has some kind of deja vu. “Guys! Look who’s finally here!”

“Detective West!” Sara Lance cheers and a few of the others agree, including Lisa Snart for some reason. “Did you bring our orders? Oliver said he’ll pay you back.”

When Joe’s eyes fall onto Queen at that, he does look surprised and appalled - maybe also like he’s cursing Sara - but he doesn’t say anything against that. That’s good because while a big order at Big Belly’s won’t make him go bankrupt, it doesn’t mean it was cheap . Without a single word coming from her, Linda takes the bags out of his hands and start distributing them amongst the people.

It gives Joe more time to look around. There’s Cisco sitting on the ground between Lisa and Barry, who’s got Thawne on his other side. Jax and Wally share the couch with a couple that he doesn’t recognize - well, that's a first here, he supposes - but they’re all sitting relatively comfortable, as if at least Wally and the guy right next to him know one another. Hartley is leaning onto the arm rest next to the red-haired girl, with his arms crossed like he’s worried about something; which is funny because out of this group he’s one of the few people who regularly come to his house. Iris mirrors his position on the side of Queen.

This group, it’s… random, to say the least.

The ginger girl jumps up from her seat, almost making Hartley double over until he drops onto her vacated space. In the next moment she’s standing in front of Joe, holding out her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Detective West! You have a lovely home!”

There’s a snicker from somewhere, maybe actually from Barry’s corner, before Cisco speaks up. “Cait, maybe you should hang on a sec.”

Cait looks confused for a moment before dropping her hand, blushing a little as she scurries back. Finding her seat filled, she stares at Hartley for a moment - and is met with a stern glare - before the guy next to him pulls her onto his lap.

There’s laughter coming from everyone as well as several greetings; some of them are overly cheerful, others sounding pressed. Jesse sits up at last, leaving Sara to pout.

“Yoooo, detective!” Lisa bellows over all of them. “Glad you made it!”

At least Thawne and his kids have the decency to look sheepish - Wally included for putting on this scheme. Making Joe stay out for longer after work, so they all could come here, but especially Thawne because they’d just had a desk shift together that was spent with glaring daggers at the blonde’s head. Apparently it didn’t work as well as he’d hoped because then there’d be no way he’d even dare coming close to his home.

Joe watches as Iris leans over, saying something into Oliver Queen‘s ear like it’s the most normal thing in the world that she’s talking to a freaking billionaire. Then she actually pushes against him, making him stand up. “Dad, come sit,” she announces, pointing at his armchair. 

He only follows suit because it’s so overwhelming, he guesses. 

Joe’s known that Linda has somehow managed to start working for Queen - Iris has told him as much, at least. But he’d thought that it was just her being so determined, that somehow her tweeting or something had caught his attention (hell if he knew how this whole ‘influencer’ business works nowadays). Looking into this round, it dawns on him that maybe he’s been stupid all along.

It’s always funny, really, to see Linda standing next to a guy who’s two heads bigger than her; though Queen’s slimmer than Rory. There’s a small uncertainty written into Queen’s eyes, one that he’s trying to will away in a manner that only rich kids know, but Linda looks serious and concentrated. She elbows him into the side.

As fascinating as it is to watch Queen put on his professional face, from the way he straightens his back, Joe can tell he’d rather be doing anything else than stand there and talk. It’s in the way he clears his throat more than once, like he’s not prepared at all to speak. “Um, hi. I suppose I don’t have to tell you who I am.” He starts, scratching the back of his head.

“I doubt there’s a single person on this side of the states who doesn’t know your face,” Sara speaks up. “And if there is, I envy them.”

“Hey, you used to smooch that face.” Iris answers dryly.

“Uuuhhhh,” Hartley makes. “Protection squad!”

Joe takes a sip of his drink.

“Thanks.” Queen says coolly, not at all irritated by Sara’s comment. Joe supposes that that’s their dynamic ever since they broke up. “Anyway, what you might not know is that— you know the groupchat? The one where Snart— yeah, I started that one.”

“And we’re the members,” Cisco chimes in. “Well, minus the babies here.”

“Your boyfriend is literally only a year older than me,” Lisa states. “I mean, mentally he’s a grandpa, yeah—“

“Fuck off, Lise!” Hartley doesn’t sound as threatening as he’d like to be, probably.

Joe can’t help but react automatically. “Language.” And then, slowly, it clicks. He supposed his brain has pieces the things together already, should have, really, but it only reaches the surfaces now. “Wait, you all—?”

There’s nods coming from everywhere. Caitlin speaks up again. “Maybe we should do--” But then she gets cut off by a chorus of groans and, “No!”

“Cait, I think you and Ronnie are the only ones Joe doesn’t know personally, so--” Linda decides with a small shrug. “Joe, that’s Caitlin and her fiancé Ronnie. Ronnie used to date Cisco, yadda yadda yadda.”

The two of them wave at him, Caitlin more happily than Ronnie, but they do seem nice, Joe has to give them that. Still, that doesn’t mean he really understands . Sure, they’re all in that weird chat and whatnot, and some of them date or used to, anyway, but that doesn’t explain everything . Namely, “So what’s Lisa doing here?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I basically belong to that group,” she says cheerfully. “With me living with half of them and all.”

“Living with half of them ?” Joe repeats. He’s known, of course, that Lisa has decided to live with some friends of Snart’s, and that it must have been someone from this group - because since he turned over a new leaf, most of his old contacts seemed to have died down. But such a number? “Okay, so who’s living with Lisa? Arms up,” he demands.

And he watches as Hartley’s arm goes up, Sara’s, Oliver’s and then… Thawne’s, too. Tentatively, like he knows just how screwed he is as Joe’s glare levels on him - as it tends to these days.

“Wait a second,” Joe tells him, “You’re telling me that not only did you know my kids all along, you also-- you live with the daughter of… of Lewis Snart ?” His eyes flicker over to Lisa at that, almost expecting her to flinch at the name, to think that he rejects her (but how could he?), but she’s stoic as ever. “You can’t keep something like that-- Does Singh know?” Because that’s not something to keep from your boss; things would get personal, just like he’s had to fight to keep being in charge of Snart after he started dating Barry.

Thawne struggles - very clearly unsure of just what to say, and that means a definite ‘no, Singh does not know’. And hell , Joe needs to close his eyes and draw in a deep breath before he explodes.

“That’s the point, though,” Hartley suddenly says. He’s not even sitting up as he speaks, because apparently he’s so used to lounging on his couch that Joe’s lost all authority over him. Which is great. “We all knew. We knew Eddie, and we knew he lives with Lisa, and a lot of us walk in and out your door as we want and never told you.”

The air is dead silent for a moment before Cisco speaks up. “Great, babe, couldn’t have worded it better at all.”

Hartley just shrugs. Apparently he only cares about getting the point across. Which he did.

But also… “Hang on, you guys are dating?” Joe looks between the two of them.

Almost instantly, Cisco starts laughing. “Man, how’d you miss that ?”

There’s a lot of ways Joe missed that, namely the fact that the two of them never showed up together. That he’s always sorted Hartley in a lump with Wally and Cisco with Barry, because that’s who they hang out with. There’s been a time where Barry and Hartley discussed some musical together, but he’d thought that just so happened, because they were bound to interact somehow. None of them has ever mentioned a boyfriend, especially not by name, so how the hell was he supposed to get that?

Finally, Ronnie speaks up, too. And weirdly, he looks quite comfortable sitting next to his ex’s new boyfriend, like he doesn’t mind any of this. Granted, there’s his fiance on his lap, but Joe would think there’d be some kind of awkwardness. Man, this is weird. “No, but Hart’s right. We’re here to make this clear, right? It’s not just been Bar, Iris and Eddie who’ve been… silent.”

They all bow their heads, looking somewhat guilty. 

Including Wally. 

Joe narrows his eyes at him. “Walls. Please tell me--”

He recognizes that grin that his son puts on. The one where he’s caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing, but that isn’t too serious either, like when he ate the last chips that Joe had stored away. Except this time around it’s more than serious. “I-- Sorry?”

Again, Joe closes his eyes. The fact that he’s known all of these people in some capacity and here they sit, all connected to one another. And not only that, that they’ve all agreed to keep that fact from him; that they kept quiet about knowing his new partner just like his kids had done-- which he had been more than pissed about. He doesn’t even know how to react.

He takes a sip of his drink.

Maybe he should’ve looked into this group earlier. Back when he first heard about it, when he learned his criminals were part of it. He should’ve made sure there were no bad influences, shouldn’t he? And then when his kids got more and more absorbed into it, kept their phones glued to their faces… Is he a bad dad for not checking that out? It’s been Linda who talked to him about how much he supervised his adult children, and while back then he could understand her, he now wonders if that was a kind of betrayal. He’d never would have figured something coming from Linda, and even now, he doesn’t believe it was a scheme. He’s never seen her do something she didn’t think was right in her heart. 

Maybe that’s why she’s the one to speak up now. She’s reaching for his arm, making him look up. “I misspoke earlier. This isn’t just an explanation. We… we’re sorry, too. It’s been stupid from us to keep you in the dark, especially since Eddie…” Her voice is genuine and he can tell that she means it. And he’s never been good at keeping a grudge.

Still… He takes another sip of his drink. 

“Sorry, Joe,” Cisco speaks up, voice quiet and eyes wide when Joe faces him.

And then an echo from Hartley. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Me too,” Sara agrees. “Sorry, Detective West.”

“We really should’ve told you earlier. Sorry, dad,” Wally nods. And so do the rest of them. 

They all look a little squirmish, a little sad, even those he doesn’t know personally (Queen looks quite at loss as to what to do from where he stands, so he’s just ringing his hands). He can tell that they mean it beyond the fact that they feel like they need to do this. Even Jesse and Jax tilt their heads, as if they were in on it, too, and… yeah, they probably were. Of course they were.

Joe nods. Then he takes another sip of his drink. “Don’t y’all think you’re off the hook.” He’s not quite sure he even understands why they all kept it from him. Just the way they sit here, it tells of familiarity and love between one another. He’s seen many of them close to each other, but never has he expected them to be close. Hell, he hadn’t even known Cisco and Hartley were a thing! And if they all are so supportive towards each other - because that’s what this is - there’s no reason for them all to show up here other than to share the fault. Make him be less pissed at his kids and Thawne. He’s not quite sure if it works. He grunts lightly, “Anyone else wanna tell me somethin’?”

There’s movement between them, looks being shared, but they’re so random - they aren’t all having more secrets, do they? He doesn’t even really know most of these kids, he doesn’t want to know them, actually. It was just a question of courtesy more than anything.

“You know what? I don’t even wanna know.” He settles with finally. Immediately, all heads snap around to him again, surprise written into each of them. Do they really think he wants to know every single detail of their lives?

And then, there comes a laughter. A small and hysterical one coming right from Thawne, like he’s just survived the worst panic, and he earns a few concerned looks before others join, too. First Iris from where she’s sitting next to Joe, and then it keeps echoing through the room until it’s a chorus of honest laughter. 

Despite himself, Joe feels a small smile crawl up on his face.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Joe? Can I talk to you?” 

There was a time, long ago, where Barry would appear in the doorway to his bedroom, usually plagued by nightmares. That is, if he even woke up by himself. More often than not either Joe or Iris, depending on who noticed first, who woke up first by the screams and whimpers that Barry let out, who went to him and woke him up, assuring him he is fine, even if the rest of the world isn’t. Joe knows that they didn’t vanish, that the memories and fears are still there, but that Barry has learnt to deal with them by himself, thanks to meds, therapy and understanding. 

That’s why it’s so unnerving to see him there now, in his pyjamas and looking somewhat distraught, like he’s tried to sleep but couldn’t. His hair’s messier than usually, like he’s twisted and turned and tried his best but didn’t succeed. It makes Joe sit up in anxiety of his own; it wouldn’t surprise him if he got worse again - ever since the whole Snart disaster, Barry’s issues with his mom’s death seem to have flared up even worse than in years.

Technically, Joe is still mad at him. At Barry, at Iris, at Wally, at Thawne, and all the others who confessed to him today that they lied to him all along. But the sight makes his other parental reflexes kick in and he sits up. “Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”

“I, uh-- Yeah.” Barry says, stepping into the room. As Joe sets aside the paper he was reading, he sits down on the edge of the bed. “It’s just-- earlier, you asked if anybody had to tell you something.”

He’s wringing his hands, like he’s nervous about what’s to come, and Joe feels like this scene happened before. Not specifically exactly like this, but something… 

“That about you an Snart?” He wants to know. There seemed to be some kind of reconciliation on the horizon when they talked in the precinct after Snart’s latest arrest, and maybe he hopes for it, too. Because even with their differences, it’s not just Barry who’s a good influence, but the other way around, too. His son has become more outgoing, fiercer in his replies and generally less anxious ever since he started dating the guy, and for that, Joe is thankful. 

Barry shakes his head. “I-- we didn’t make up yet. And, actually, I… I feel like a break is actually for the better.” He takes in a breath, looking down on his hands. “To clarify… things between us. Anyway, that’s not what I came here for--”

“Okay,” Joe says, even though he finds himself cling to the ‘yet’ despite himself. He trusts Bar to make his own decisions, especially with this and especially if he already talks this seriously, so he won’t try to take part in the whole thing. “So, you wanna talk about--?”

Barry runs his hands over the back of his neck, a clear indicator of just how nervous he is. It confuses Joe, really, because what’s there to be nervous about? It’s not like he could’ve gotten anyone pregnant (not just his dating a guy but the apparent apathy towards sex, so unlike other people his age) and since he’s nowhere to be found near a driving wheel, a car accident is out of question, too. So unless there’s another secret group chat tying neatly into his work life…

Finally, Barry drops his hands again, rubbing them over his pants like he’s drying them off. “I-- you know, there’s…” He trails off, looking somewhat spooked.

“Take your time, son,” Joe says calmly. It’s a reminder that Barry needs often, because his mind is a racing one; jumping from one thought to another, and then his body is soon to follow. He’s… jitterish, to say the least.

Something about it makes Barry freeze. “I’m not your son.”

Everything in Joe grows tense at that. It’s not the first time that he’s heard them, not by far. When Barry first came to live with them, he’d run away and tried to get to his father time and time again. Joe’s orders not to leave like that were generally met with exclaims that, ‘You’re not my dad!’ It’s been a slow and bumpy progress to get Barry to open up, accept him and even start seeing him as family. And then, he’s had the same thing with Wally, too. He hasn’t been there while he was a kid (didn’t even know he existed) so he knows he’s not the standard father for either of the boys. Still, knowing that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.

Just like it does right now.

And they’ve had talks about it. Afterwards, when they calmed down from whatever fight they were having and apologized - because Joe definitely did find himself overstepping some lines, still does - then he would explain. That he doesn’t mean to be a substitute for Henry Allen, that he never could be. In that moment it didn’t matter what Joe personally believed. He knew it would never change, the fact that Barry believes his dad is innocent. No, what mattered then was that there’s no replacing another person and that Joe doesn’t mean to do just that, no matter the mistakes he makes.

Barry knows that Joe considers him a son, actually means the word with him in comparison to, for example, Cisco (who always beams at it, more so than he should, probably) or Hartley, but he also knows that Joe doesn’t expect him to return the sentiment whole-heartedly. It’s a bit messy, but it’s their dynamic and it works.

Barry looks startled by his own words. Eyes wide as he stares back into Joe’s face - and who knows what he looks like - and immediately starts shaking his head. “No, that’s not-- I didn’t mean it like that. I--” He takes in a deep and shaky breath, eyes flickering down to the ground. What comes out next is a mumble, shy against the loud claims he just uttered. “I’m not a guy.”

“What,” Joe lets out before he can stop himself. It’s not so much because of the low volume of Barry’s voice, but more because of the content. Sure, Barry only came to live with them when he was long past the diaper stage, but Joe’s pretty sure he did not miss the memo about any of that. “But… of course you are.” He says then. He remembers the way Barry had been bullied in school, been called a girl every time he started crying when was overwhelmed or otherwise triggered. Is that flaring up again? He was sure the kid finally had a group of support there.

“No,” Barry shakes his head vehemently. With a kind of determination that makes Joe close his mouth immediately. He really means what he’s saying, and it concerns Joe. “That’s-- That’s the thing, I’m not.”

“Okay, you lost me there, so-- kiddo.” Joe admits. He knows that’s probably not what Barry wants to hear, but it’s the truth. “So you, uhh… You feel like-- like--”

Again, a shake of his head. “Not a girl either,” Barry says quietly, looking at his hands still. “That’s, uh, kinda the point. It’s… well, not neither but not either… either.”

“That--” Joe starts, blinking a few times. He’s not sure what to say. He kinda feels like laughing because what ? What’s there when you’re neither boy nor girl? Does that even make sense?

“To me it does.” Barry simply states, suddenly sounding very serious - almost coldly so - in his words. Joe hadn’t even noticed that he’d talked out loud. And he recognizes the tone of Barry’s voice; it’s the same he has when talking about his father. It means that whatever he believes in is a fact for him. No matter what Joe’s gonna say, he’ll stand to his words, even if it means an argument. It’s the voice that always makes Joe forget what he thinks, because it’s so unlike Barry’s usual behaviour that he wants to get rid of it. In short: it’s almost scary.

“Okay,” Joe says, not quite able to keep his voice from forming a question. 

Barry looks a little frustrated, though he doesn’t seem to aim it at Joe personally. He groans softly, shooting a look to the ceiling as he searches for the words to explain. “You remember when Wally came out to you--” Of course Joe does. It was a memorable afternoon, not just because of the content of his son’s words but also because of how they all orchestrated it. A little bit like today, with the way all three of them have expected him when he came from work and-- he really should’ve seen coming what happened today, huh? Singh would so rip him a new one. “--and he said all genders? Not both , but all .”

“I-- uh, yeah.” He’d stumbled about that phrasing back then, but didn’t think it’d be worth losing sleep over. So, he might be wrong, it turns out. “So, there’s more than two.”

Barry looks a bit surprised, as if he hadn’t expected him to figure it out so quickly ( really ?), but he nods nonetheless. “Lots more. There’s… a lot of people who define themselves outside the binary gender - traditionally male and female, I mean. And-- and they do that to several degrees! So, there’s… yeah, there’s many non-binary possibilities on the spectrum.”

“Non-binary--” Joe repeats. It sounds awfully… clinical, somehow. Maybe that’s what makes it real, he supposes. “So you’re--”

“That, yeah.” Barry tilts his head. “I-- I just go by that, because there’s… there’s many sub-labels but--”

“If two already don’t fit…” Joe finishes.

It coaxes a chuckle out of him. “Not quite how it works. But… yeah.”

There’s a small silence between them where neither of them knows what to say. Joe thinks about it, though - even to his own surprise - not too hard. After all, it seems like Barry’s been feeling like this for quite a while and there’s been no change in his whatsoever, right? So no matter what, he’s still himself and that’s fine, even if he calls himself things Joe can’t understand. Though maybe there is a change. “So… what does that mean-- I mean, I get that it probably means a lot to you , obviously, so-- anything I should be doing--”

“Um,” Barry makes. He’s still nervous, Joe can tell, but not as much as before. God , he hasn’t thought he’d flip out, did he? “Pronouns. That’s, like, mostly--”

“Pronouns?”

“‘They’ instead of ‘he’?” Barry says, ducking a little. 

“‘They’?” Joe echoes. “So you mean like when I have a perp where I don’t know whether it’s a guy or a woman?”

“Yeah, exactly like that.” He-- They nod with a beam.

“You’ll have to remind me of that.” Joe admits. He doesn’t think that it’s gonna be hard , especially not if it makes his kid happy, but it’s a change for sure. “And… I guess that means nicknames are--”

“I, uh, I go by Bar in… in our group, so that’s… yeah. I mean, I don’t mind ‘Barry’, especially since that’s, like, my official name anyways, so…” Another shrug, almost like h-- they aren’t allowed to mind. “It’s okay if you screw up a bit, I’m used to that--”

“Shouldn’t be.” Joe grumbles. “Your… friends. The group, they’re--”

“Supportive. Like, so much.”

“I know you don’t out--” Even before he learnt any of his kids are queer ( oh , he still doesn’t know whether you’re allowed to say that nowadays or not, he should ask about that some other time), that’s been a rule he’s encountered plenty. It’s a line they always have to tremble around during their investigations and he’s seen Singh lose his shit about plenty. “But you’re not the only one there, yeah?” He’d hate if Bar were alone with their worries, especially amongst such an all-inclusive group.

“No, I’m not. It’s… it’s nice.”

“That’s good.” Joe nods. “Anything else I should know? I’ll probably need a few pointers. Plenty, actually.”

“I’ll tell you then.” They say seriously. “And, just so you know, I don’t actually mind when you-- when you call me ‘son’. It just--”

“Was a good opener?” Joe offers. 

“Yeah, sorry.” They’re probably aware of the small heart attack it gave him, judging by the regret written in their face. Joe reaches out and hugs them, tightly so. “So… you don’t mind?”

“ Mind ? No, of course not.” Joe replies instantly. “A little overwhelmed, yeah. But with the day I’ve had, this might as well happen.”

Bar laughs at that, whole-heartedly, burying their face against Joe’s shoulder. “As long as you don’t have Linda send you pamphlets again.”

“You know about that, huh?” Joe chuckles dryly. Yeah, he probably should’ve asked them about the whole thing, but… there’s a barrier, something that makes you want to seem all-knowing in front of your kids, no matter what. So asking them for more info… He should work on that, definitely. “Sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m fuckin’ proud of you, kiddo.”

He can feel as Bar rapidly blinks against him before they chuckle. “Language.”

“You’re a little shit.”

Chapter Text

“Hi, sorry. Had to throw out Iris.”

“Figured as much.”

“I— uh, this isn’t weird, is it? Because if I—“

“Maybe you haven’t gotten around to read it but I said it’s fine.”

“But are you sure because, like, I did say—“

“Bar.”

“Sorry.”

“For what it’s worth, I’d have called if you hadn’t.”

“Really?”

“... Probably not.”

“Empty promises.”

“Wasn’t a promise.”

“Yeah, well.”

“So it went well?”

“Very. I mean, like I said, he didn’t really get it but he didn’t say anything against it, so.”

“Did you use your voice?”

“What voice?”

“You know which one. The scary one.”

“I have a scary voice?”

“Uh, duh. Don’t tell me you aren’t aware of it.”

“I don’t have a scary voice!”

“Oh my God, babe. … You totally do--”

“Stop laughing! I don’t have-- what the hell, what scary voice?”

“Well, personally I don’t think it’s scary, but, like, Cisco’s scared of it, so… It’s the one you have when you’re very sure about what you’re saying. It’s… quite interesting , actually.”

“... You think it’s sexy.”

“‘Course I do.”

“You’re awful.”

“You really didn’t know? Like, geez, that’s a fuckin’ skill, babe. Always thought you did it on purpose.”

“I tell you, Len, I had no idea. I mean, you could’ve said something if you like it that much…”

“Would’ve put on a show for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Hm.”

“How come you even told the Detective?”

“I’ve meant to do that for some time already.”

“Right.”

“And earlier he asked if anyone else had something to tell him-- I guess it was kinda a joke because then he let it slide, but yeah… Was an opportunity, huh?”

“Sounds like it. But you waited?”

“Would’ve felt weird with everyone around, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. You’re the only one who came completely clean?”

“What’d you mean?”

“Well, Wally’s got a secret boyfriend and Iris, well…”

“I think hell will freeze over sooner than Iris and Eddie tell him.”

“Was that a pun? For me?”

“Actually, no.”

“Pity.”

“But yeah, I think Wally’ll take some time.”

“Understandable.”

“Joe was a little overwhelmed by Lisa being there, actually.”

“It probably did seem a little unrelated.”

“Yeah, he knows about the Quiver now. Was a little pissed at Eddie not telling him that .”

“That he lives with my sister? Can’t imagine why that’d piss him off.”

“Stop the sarcasm.”

“That’s my personality.”

“I know.”

“Did they tell him Thawne’s gonna move out soon?”

“... We might have forgotten about that. Apparently Joe also didn’t know Hartley and Cisco were a thing.”

“Seriously?”

“Guess he never saw them together.”

“Fair.”

“Lot of things we kept from him, it seems.”

“I’m outta that.”

“Nope, you’re as bad as the rest of us, Len.”

“Usually I’m worse , so that’s my luck.”

“You’re awful.”

“See?”

“Why do I like you?”

“My charm, I guess.”

“...”

“Attractive yawn. D’you got class tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. Thursday’s my day off this semester. You?”

“That painting class.”

“In the afternoon, right?”

“Yeah. Why’d I take it again?”

“Because you like art, Len. And painting’s fun, I heard.”

“I suck at painting.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“Tried it, sucked, knocked it.”

“Just… say you’re doing abstract stuff?”

“... Good idea.”

“I missed your laugh, you know.”

“Bar--”

“No, sorry. Shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t an easy time for you.”

“Neither was it for you.”

“Don’t apologize again.”

“Well--”

“ I’m the apologist here. That doesn’t fit your style.”

“Pf, there’s a lot that doesn’t my style that I do when it comes to you.”

“I’m making you soft, huh?”

“Somewhat.”

“Good. Think I’ve become more badass since I started dating you.”

“You’ve always been badass.”

“Eh.”

“I don’t fall for losers.”

“Oh, what a rule.”

“...”

“Did you just yawn? When it’s not even 1am?”

“Had an early class. And unlike Mick, I can’t fall asleep whenever the fuck I wanna.”

“That’s so sad--”

“Don’t fucking say it. I swear, Cisco’s the one corrupting you.”

“...”

“...”

“We should probably hang up.”

“I missed your laugh, too.”

“Better than the scary sexy voice?”

“Definitely.”

“That’s uncharacteristic for you.”

“Is it?”

“... You’re a softie.”

“For a small number of people.”

“I’m honoured.”

“You should be.”

“Not at all conceited, are you?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that.”

“True. Are you coming to Cisco’s birthday?”

“Is he even celebrating?

“Well, I’m guessing. Turning 21 and all.”

“If he’ll have me.”

“As if he wouldn’t.”

“I did hurt his best friend. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Len.”

“I’m quiet.”

“Hmhm.”

“If he has a big party, I’ll swing by.”

“Someone’s gotta take care of Mick.”

“Eh, he’s got Linda.”

“Yeah, he definitely respects her more than you.”

“Isn’t difficult.”

“Aw.”

“You so eager to see me?”

“... Maybe.”

“Cute.”

“Good night, Len.”

“Hah. Sleep well, babe.”

Chapter Text

02 Jan 2018 

[image description: a picture of a row of policemen in uniforms with the heads cropped out. Only one label is eligible: “GORDON”]

gothamknight With the social climate globally and the many challenges that Gotham City faces, it’s more and more important to hand the city and the safety of its inhabitants over to skilled people. Reforms of the police have given us a capable unit that’s doing their best to reinstate the status quo of the 90s. I’m proud to help fund a revolution regarding the way the public eye is dealing with crimes done out of poverty, shining light onto domestic violence and changing the way drug use is perceived. 2018 is going to let us meet new goals in every way.

bilance, smallvillekent and 234,981 others liked this

luckboy1 bruce wayne said legalize it

bookishban Good to see that the focus is put on the important things now. Too often the Police Department of Gotham has focused on the wrong crimes, leaving the big guys running and [...]

bilance nice promo brucie

Bruce Wayne @gothamknight 27 Jan 2018

In the dog park with the small one. Him: “Bad dog!” - “Why? What did Titus do?” - “No, he looks like a bat. He’s a batdog.”

[31 replies 138 retweets 2k likes]

10 Feb 2018

[image description: A shirtless and smiling Bruce Wayne sitting in his bed with a dark blue sheet spread across his lap. He’s holding a cup of coffee in his hand while looking down at a newspaper.]

gothamknight Nothing better than spending the morning catching up on the latest news while enjoying a big cup of @gothamsbest!

halofapilot, bilance and 671,294 others liked this

pipes jesus warn a guy

gays4life this makes life worth living

metrostallord How can you smile while looking at the news, though? I find it harder and harder to see something positive in the development of the world recently. I’m from Metropolis, so it’s not as bad as Gotham but [...]

Bruce Wayne @gothamknight 13 Mar 2018

Binge-worthy show: The Good Place. You’re welcome. [gif attached: Eleanor from The Good Place saying “This is the bad place!”]

[291 replies 1,3k retweets 39k likes]

Bruce Wayne @gothamknight 13 Mar 2018

No, I was not describing Gotham with this gif. Obviously.

[184 replies 897 retweets 25k likes]

18 Apr 2018

[image description: Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen dressed in black and dark green tuxedos respectively, laughing as they clink glasses of champagne against one another]

gothamknight Proud to have joined my old friend @oliverqueen for this noble cause a few days back. LGBT+ youth is facing challenges that I, coming from a privileged background, can’t possibly imagine. The Queen Consolidated LGBTQIA Foundation is granting queer kids who are facing abuse and homelessness due to homophobia shelter and scholarships to ensure they can still have everything in life, including a healthy environment. You cannot imagine a better way to open a nightclub. Nicely done, Oliver. (And @thetommymerlyn, of course, too!)

katekane, fishandcurry and 891,482 others liked this

oliverqueen Thank you for your support, Bruce! It was nice catching up with you. We need to see each other more!

gays4life bruce wayne confirmed bisexual

femme4tall Actually, ‘queer’ is a slur. Using it to describe a group as a whole is derogative and shouldn’t be something that’s normalized. Reclaiming it for yourself is totally acceptable, but otherwise straight people should [...]

Bruce Wayne @gothamknight 23 Apr 2018

Surprised Alfred with breakfast today. Only reaction I got was “Mr Wayne, have you had trouble sleeping?” Like there’s no other way I could be up early.

[28 replies 382 retweets 45k likes]

01 May 2018

[image description: The silhouettes of a man and a small boy from behind; the man reaches over and places his hand on the boy’s shoulder. The sun sets in the background.]

gothamknight Pretty, pretty Robin 

Under leaves so green 

A happy blossom 

Hears you sobbing, sobbing, 

Pretty, pretty Robin, 

Near my bosom.
- William Blake

oliverqueen, bilance and 379,466 others liked this

bithorn whAT DOES THIS MEAN

gothamsbest ????????????

betterthankyle_o Bruce what the fuck actually

Chapter Text

“I know I ain’t good with those big words,” Mick starts in the moment he sees Red standing in front of his door, with their head ducked like he’s gonna swing at ‘em any second. He gotta say, he’s been surprised at seein’ them for a split moment, but now he’s just suspicious . He’s barely even seen any of ‘em in the last month, fuckin’ hell, and now they show up on his doorstep? “But I doubt this is what a ‘retreat’ is.”

By some weird miracle, Bar manages to duck their head even more. Any further and they’re provin’ that they’re a turtle or something. “Uh, kinda? I mean, there’s not many people here, are there?”

Mick huffs. No, there ain’t. He wouldn’t even be up if it weren’t for them showin’ up here. “Lenny’s not here,” he offers, which they should know, given that Len’s dropped the big mystery of his weekly shrink sessions in the goddamn chat. Coulda bought a huge banner and announced it to the whole city at that rate. Not that Mick minds him goin’ there, cuz the dude’s as messed up as they can be and the Old Fucker seems to have a bigger influence still than they all thought… It’s just, their friends can’t keep their damned mouth closed, can they? He doesn’t want every single person in Central thinkin’ that Lenny’s crazy or some shit. Anyway, Bar should know that he’s not here, so maybe they don’t even wanna see him. Mick kinda wishes that they did, though, cuz he’s pretty annoyed by their whole will-they-won’t-they thing. It just ain’t helpin’ that Len’s still got hope for their relationship and nobody fuckin’ knows if it’s justified or not. Sure, Red still cares, but then again when don’t they. He nudges the door further open as he turns around, givin’ them the chance to decide whether they wanna come in or not. He won’t beg ‘em in if they want somethin’ from him at this hour. He coulda slept for an hour more, for fuck’s sake.

“I know!” Bar says quickly, comin’ in after him and closin’ the door swiftly. “I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?” Mick wants to know, openin’ a cupboard only to discover the coffee’s empty. Once again. That fucker. Lenny really needs to cut back his coffee intake at some point, ‘specially if he ends up sufferin’ from it. He pushes the cupboard closed again and sees them twitch a little from the corner of his eye. Looks like they’re nervous about some shit. “Spit it out, Red.”

“I joined track team!” They announce at that. Sounds more like burstin’ out somethin’ that wasn’t the main thing on their mind, but he lets it slide for now.

“Ya did?” He asks. He’s a little surprised, he’s gotta admit that, but it ain’t like them runnin’ is some new info. Good if they put it to some good use, if ya ask him.

“Yeah! It’s-- well, I mean, I always take up running when I’m stressed or anxious or something,” they explain. They’re still standing in the middle of the room, almost as if they didn’t spend enough time in here in the past that ya coulda thought they moved in here. The difference some fight makes. “And, like, it got a lot lately, and I brought it up to my therapist and he proposed I do it regularly.”

“Constant work-out helps with that,” Mick agrees. Whadaya think why he took up boxin’? He doesn’t need a shrink or his studies to tell him about that, it’s fuckin’ logic. “So ya gonna be a jock now.”

“Best of both worlds, I guess,” they offer and rub the back of their neck. 

“What else?” Mick wants to know cuz it’s damn fuckin’ obvious that’s not what they came to tell him. He gotta say, tho, he’d be lyin’ if he claimed he wasn’t… curious about the whole thing, really. If it’s somethin’ they come to him for, then it must be some fucked up shit.

“Can I get a hug?” It’s another fast sentence. Any more of that and it ain’t just their feet competing for speed, honestly. 

Now Mick turns around to face ‘em. “What?” He ain’t no hugger, that makes no sense. Comin’ all the way here and askin’ that? After everything that happened?

They give a lil shrug. “Your hugs are, like, the battery for… I don’t even know what for, they’re just warm and feel like safety?” There’s a sly grin on their face, one that’s both cute and like they’ve got a plan. Moments like this and Mick can almost see why Len fell for them. “Perfect for a retreat! And… I thought maybe we could talk?”

“You bein’ serious?” If they wanna talk, it’s definitely gonna be about Lenny, he knows that. And not like he particularly cares or thinks that it’s any of his business, but maybe that’ll finally lead to some fuckin’ decision. Or maybe they just wanna ramble on about some new bullshit he doesn’t care about at all and he can squeeze in that hour of sleep… He won’t even feel that lil lightweight, so what does it matter, honestly? When they nod - awkwardly now as if they’re realizing it’s fuckin’ weird - he lets out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Miiiiick, come on-- wait,” they stop and blink at him. Like a freakin’ comic book character. “Did you just agree?”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Mick tells them. He doesn’t wait for anythin’ else but turns back to his bed and falls into it. Just like that. 

Bar still looks a lil unsure as they watch him, but after a beat they follow. Good, cuz if they didn’t, then he wouldn’t care either. It’s them who wanted to talk, after all. And them who wanted that cuddle session. They roll against his body a lil awkwardly but hell, like this isn’t any weird. He puts his arm down around ‘em and pulls them against his torso to make them stop wiggling so much. It takes a second and then they’re relaxing, too. 

“This is nice,” they hum after a few moments.

Mick grunts. “Ya wanted to talk,” he reminds them.

They’re really unsure about what to say, that much is obvious. “Right,” comes out like a welp. Mick doesn’t press them but lets ‘em sort it out themself. “Uh, it’s about Len.”

“Big fuckin’ surprise.” ‘Course it’s about Lenny. What else could it be? And given how weird and cheerful the guy’s been recently, there’s probably somethin’ up right there. He can make out the lil squeal they make, thinkin’ he’s properly pissed, and can’t hide a grin, really. “What about him?”

“We’re, um, kinda back together, I guess? Like, we talked shortly on Saturday before-- well , we made out,” they say, once again so fast that Mick can barely follow. “And, um, I wasn’t su-- I wanted to know what you think about that.”

“What, you wanna keep jumpin’ back and forth on him?” Mick wants to know. He’s watched this whole thing for long enough and sure , Len has fucked up with punchin’ them in their sore spot, but it’s not like he was thinkin’ clearly. And he’s already tried to make it up and apologize for it often ‘nough. “Fuckin’ hell, Red. This is y’all’s call to make, isn’t it? Do ya still wanna date him?”

It’s a valid question, if you ask him. With how long they’re draggin’ out this fight they had, you could think that they don’t. The fact that they’re askin’ him now? Doesn’t help the case.

“I do!” They sound sure about that, at least. It’s a quick and firm answer and only makes him wonder why they’re asking him in the first place. “It’s just-- Do I deserve him?”

Now that is a freakin’ plottwist. Usually Mick has to endure Len’s whining about how he’s way too bad to be dating a sunshine such as Bar Allen - and the fact that he’s so annoying with that is all the proof that he is not a bad guy, for fuck’s sake. Bad guys do their thing and don’t fuckin’ look back, they don’t worry so much as Lenny does and they certainly ain’t as full of self-hatred as he is. And usually it’s not like people think of Len so highly as to think there’s something like an objective standard about who can date him or not. Usually it’s just a quick fuck anyway. That whole dating thing of them is so fuckin’ different from the norm, Jesus Christ.

“It’s just-- I feel like I just keep asking things of him and that he-- that he needs to change for me and whatnot, and I never--”

That’s the moment where Mick cuts in. “Bar, lemme tell ya one thing: Lenny’s as stubborn as they come. He ain’t changin’ if he don’t feel like it, no matter what anyone says,” he explains. It’s always been obvious to him that Len’s pretty soft - startin’ with the way that they met and then his whole history. He always pretends that he grew into his role as the bad guy, but Mick knows that it’s just that: a role. Sure, Len’s quite the bastard, but he’s got a heart of gold. And yeah, maybe that got more and more visible ever since he’s started dating Bar, but that change definitely didn’t get forced on him. It’s been a long time comin’ and just got fueled by having that goodness around him so often. “Not like ya force him to anythin’ or somethin’.” 

They shift a lil in his arms, not exactly like they’re growin’ tense but not comfortable either. There’s a low sound in their throat, too, and that tells Mick that they’re not completely believing him.

“For what it’s worth, he’s changed ya, too.”

“He has?” Surprise in the little squeak right there. Almost as if they really haven’t noticed.

Mick huffs. “‘Course. Ya grew some balls, as far as I can tell.” At the start of that whole groupchat business Bar woulda never talked in the way they do nowadays. There wouldn’t have been a moment where they just call out people who have a bigger mouth on ‘em than they do and they probably wouldn’t have just showed up somewhere on random and demanded a hug. Not that he’s got anythin’ to really compare it to, but he’s heard ‘nuff from Linda to know they’re more outgoing, too. ‘Course that could be the whole group dynamic in general, but Mick’s pretty sure Len’s got his positive effects, too. 

It makes ‘em laugh either way. “Huh, maybe,” they agree. “And you don’t think I’m… asking too much?”

“Nah,” Mick answers. “Trust Len to speak up if he feels like it.” Granted, the guy doesn’t have the healthiest opinion on himself but he grows annoyed easily enough. Should be able to notice if something’s wrong, really. 

Bar lets out a little scoff. “Yeah, right. Because he’s never kept things that upset him to himself before.”

‘Kay, maybe they got a point. But still… “He’s actually gotten better on that, believe it or not,” he states. “And with his extra therapy… Look, he’s not used to being allowed to open up about emotions and shit, aight? Takes some work. But y’all manage.”

“I guess,” Bar agrees. They sound more like they’re thinkin’ about it and that’s enough for Mick at the moment. He’s not a relationship guy-- not at all . Not like Len who’s always been a sap at heart but wouldn’t let himself go off like that. It just ain’t on the table for him. But even he knows that dating someone means work on top of the fun. So of course it ain’t easy. And as long as they both do that…

“Come ta think of it, tho,” Mick continues at a random thought. Well, not random exactly cuz it’s been on his mind a few times already, but he didn’t plan on talking about it now. It fits, tho. Bar tenses like they think he’s changed his mind or somethin’. “Ya gotta cut the whole praisin’ Len thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“The guy’s already good enough with hating himself, ya know? It’s his favourite hobby and all that,” Mick starts. He knows it’s a lil twisted, but that’s how Lenny is. “It’s what he’s been trained to do, so praise and compliments ain’t exactly familiar to him. You goin’ around and talkin’ positively about him just about anywhere and to anyone-- it ain’t helping. Cuz he starts actively hatin’ on himself even more just to hear ya say the opposite or some shit.”

“He-- I didn’t know--?” Bar answers, voice a lil high. Seems like they get it, then. Mick wasn’t sure if they’d really do that, actually, because if a healthy mind’s thirsty for praise then it sure as hell won’t be goin’ round spewing the opposite, would it? But, like, no secret that Len’s got a fucked brain. “Oh fuck , I should’ve, shouldn’t I?”

“Now don’t you fuckin’ start, too,” Mick grunts cuz that’s exactly the opposite of what he wanted. “Like, not like ya ain’t allowed to compliment him or flirt or whatever. Just don’t go ‘round and start givin’ speeches about him. It fuels his self-hatred cuz Len’s never taken the easy way, huh?”

“I-- I’m gonna watch myself then,” Bar says carefully. “I mean, it wasn’t like I did any of that on purpose, I just put my foot in my mouth sometimes, you know? And with Len… I do feel and think all the things I say to him. Or about him. It’s not like I aimed at getting a specific response out of him or anything--”

“Relax, Red, I ain’t accusin’ ya.” It’s actually that he’s figured all that already. Bar’s probably so oblivious to the effect their words an’ actions can have sometimes, they don’t go out with a plan when they start a conversation. Not like they’d lie to anyone either, he doesn’t think. “Just figured I should warn ya.”

“Thank you,” they mumble after a few seconds. “So you won’t come for my head if we start dating again?”

If ya’d told Mick he’d ever get the big brother role in anyone’s life, he’d have laughed in ya face. Now, though, he’s gotta admit it’s a lil fun that people are scared of him like that. “I know he hit a nerve with ya,” he tells them, “so I get why it’s taken ya so long. Even if it’s gotten pretty annoying that the guy’s been out here hopin’ and mopin’ the whole time. Woulda sucked more, tho, if ya’d made a shortcut decision only ta back down from it after a lil while again. Back-and-forth’s never been good on Len.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” they agree with a lil chuckle. “I’ve been mulling it over a lot because I didn’t want to lead him on, you know? I figured it’s best I made up my mind completely. And I feel bad that it’s taken so long but… We haven’t even talked about it much yet because, uh, there’s been other things to do on Saturday and then the whole week was crazy and--”

“Didn’t ya say y’all are basically back together?”

“Um, yeah, but we, like, we didn’t get around to talk much when we--”

Mick breaks into a grin at that. “Ah, so y’all just got nasty.” When Bar opens their mouth to argue, he quickly adds, “Well, as nasty as ya into, at least.”

They duck a lil - pretty funny, considering they’re lying on their sides but somehow they make it work - but at the same time they press back into him and leave out a chuckle of their own. “Well, I guess . Didn’t he tell you anything?”

“Nah.” Neither of them is the type to just go around and discuss feelings. Most of the time they just keep ‘em inside until they explode or they die down. That’s the two options ya got when ya grew up like they did. It’s why Mick usually keeps his mouth shut while Len just gets dismissive and bitchy altogether. He did seem a lil lighter the past week, tho, but compared to the last few weeks it just seemed like he’s gettin’ back ta normal slowly. “Was a lil pissed yesterday, tho. Guess he’s still as jealous as always,” he adds, cuz that only happened after the group’s discussed it after the meeting.

Bar snorts. “ Please , I didn’t get openly stared at the whole time. Well, I did but those were filled with hatred more than anything.”

“Damn, Red, whatcha do to those guys anyway?”

“Dunno,” they shrug. “Too rule-obeying for one of them, too laissez-faire for the other, I guess.”

“Sounds like ya got a story there, kid,” Mick muses. If they went to classes with them, then they’d have their reasons for not likin’ them, right? And it’s not like Queen’s girlfriend had it wrong there - everyone seems to like them to some capacity at least, so people breakin’ the norm are rare. He’s a lil curious to hear about that. 

“For one of them,” they give in after a few moments. “I really have no idea why Julian hates me so much. But Ralph definitely does so since I told on him to a teacher.” They must be sensin’ that Mick’s about ta say that’s exactly the kinda shit people should hate ya for cuz what the hell? Ya don’t just go ‘round and snitch to a freakin’ teacher of all things. “He hid a crib in someone else’s things before a big test and then told on ‘em. Just so that they’d look bad - that’d have destroyed their whole freaking life! So you have to admit that’s been some asshole move, right?”

Okay, that kinda changes things, Mick has to agree. “Point.”

“See? And he still made it to college just fine even if he did get told off,” Bar says. Sounds like they’re poutin’, too. Mick’s just happy he ain’t seeing their face. 

“Ya really are some goody two-shoes, Red,” he tells ‘em. Sure, they’ve gone and lied to the Detective’s face just as all the rest of ‘em, but Mick’s pretty sure their anxiety spiked through that a lot. “But it’s aight. Most the time.”

“Gee, thanks,” they laugh. “You know, it’s--” 

They’re interrupted when the door gets opened and they freeze in Mick’s arms even though there’s only, like, three people who could come in here like that. And yeah, it probably wouldn’t be the best if West found ‘em cuddled up like this, but neither of the Snarts should mind, really. And it is Lenny who steps inside. He ain’t even lookin’ up as he puts his keys aside and Mick guesses he’s expecting him to be sleepin’. Yeah, he sure wishes. It’s a good sign, though, cuz if therapy’d gone down like shit then he wouldn’t be payin’ attention whether he pissed off Mick or not.

He does turn around after a moment, tho, and even in the sparse light - cuz nothin’ coulda made Mick open the curtains. Like, fuck , he’d really meant to sleep in - it’s visible how far he raises his eyebrow. “Now that’s some sight,” is all he says.

“Uh, hi,” Bar says, startin’ slow. “We were just--”

Mick grunts as they stammer. He opens his arms and gets up from behind ‘em. “Talkin’. Like y’all should do. I’mma take a shower,” he announces. As he walks past Lenny, he adds, “If y’all are gonna be nothin’ but all lovey-dove, tho, then ya better get ya asses outta here. Don’t wanna see none of that.”

Len rolls his eyes. “Someone’s grumpy,” he mumbles before setting his eyes back on Bar. “How’d he not kill you yet?”

“Uh, my natural charme?” Comes the answer. They’ve sat up by now, lookin’ a lil lost in front of a Mick-shaped blanket. Kinda makes ya curious as to what they look like in his arms then. 

“Hm,” Len just makes. He leans against the cupboard in a way that’s supposed to look lazy but Mick knows it’s anything but. Jesus, the guy’s actually nervous. Like Bar’s actually the type to put their tongue down his throat and then break up a few days later. “So, what’s up?”

“I-- I joined the track team!” Bar exclaims. Is that really how they’re gonna start every talk now? He can’t deal with that, really. 

And he definitely can’t when Len’s response comes. He shoulda guessed there’s a pun to come, really, but that don’t mean he doesn’t start groaning when the first reply is a thought out, “That tracks .” 

Yeah, no. He’s out. He’s gonna take his freakin’ shower and then head out for class. Maybe he’ll cross the Bicon’s path and get some pot from xem. It’s what he deserves for takin’ up with all this pinin’ bullshit.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Bar says carefully when they step up to Len, voice a bit shaky from nervousness. It isn’t Len’s presence - never is; if anything, he’s a source of comfort for them under normal circumstances. Those aren’t the case right now, though, and that’s why they’re nervous. About what they’re planning to say. They don’t even know how exactly to do it, because when they practiced it in bed last night, they could never predict what Len would answer. They know him so well and yet he’s as unpredictable as ever. 

They can tell, however, when he actively tries to make his voice seem nonchalant. “Oh,” is all he makes when looking up at them, an expression of surprise visible for the shortest moment when they lock eyes. It vanishes as quickly as it came, though. While answering, Len corrects the paper rolls in his arms so that they won’t crash down. “So, who do I need to kill for playing matchmaker?” 

Bar hesitates for a second. Earlier, Len had grabbed a few of the posters and hurried off with barely so much as a greeting. The others probably think he just didn’t want to be there, which is halfway true, but they know he just doesn’t want to be bothered about their whole relationship fiasco. Which is also why he missed that they were the one who decided they take the art wing, too. “Uh, me.”

Len’s eyebrows are lifted, curtly, at that. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” they answer lamely, falling into step with him. He knows, of course, that they came here to talk, but he won’t push them. He never does. It’s one of the many great things about him. 

Which doesn’t mean he isn’t curious. No, they can see the way he clenches his jaw to hold back his curiosity. Still, they both stay silent for a while, just putting up the posters that Bar pulls from Len’s arms every few steps. There’s nothing uttered between them than a “Stop, here’s good,” and “Higher,” stuff like that, and it’s nice to know they’re still such a good team.

At some point, though, even Bar gets annoyed by themself. They’ve tried to start the conversation a few times, but before even the first word left their mouth they stopped again. When they turn around a corner that leads to an open patio, they get another sight of Len’s face, this time illuminated by the soft sunlight. He looks much better than the last time it’s just been the two of them, but there’s still shadows under his eyes that aren’t supposed to be this defined. The tight expression also looks more in place than they’d like to.

“Len, what are we doing?” They groan then.

Len raises an eyebrow. “Making sure Linda won’t explode?”

Bar drops their hands to the sides. “You know I don’t mean that.”

“Yeah,” Len sighs in response. He doesn’t look at them, but ahead. “What am I supposed to do? You asked for space,” he reminds them. A bit snappy, but not too unkindly. He understands where they came from, but Bar also feels like he still hates himself more than he should. They’ve told him that they understood him, too, that it's been a knee-jerk reaction, that he’s been triggered… That he hadn’t been thinking clearly and they don’t blame him for it, even if he did hurt them. But it’s been so long now, he should have gotten it by now.

But, of course, Leonard Snart is nothing if not stubborn.

“I know,” they shoot back. “But-- I’ve been thinking. I mean, how long is either of us supposed to wait, really, when I already know you didn’t mean it, that it’s been an accident and that everything can be-- Like, why am I still dragging this out? It doesn’t make sense, everything’s there an I should make the pieces fit together and step forward because life is short and any moment now something bad could happen and destroy the world an--”

They hadn’t even noticed that Len has finally looked at them, but when he snorts, his eyes are wide and trained on them. There’s a smirk playing on his lips, too, when he cuts in. “That Avengers movie really fucked you up, huh?”

Bar wants to strangle him. Sure, they still haven’t said their point, that’s right, but he should be able to guess it by now. It’s there, in the midst of the whole speech they just produced, and the only reason Len won’t gather it himself is because he likes to rile them up. 

But instead of following that urge, they step forward and grab the lapels of his jacket, pulling him flush against them. A few posters might have gotten crushed before Len dropped them, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that now they can feel him against them, the familiar sweet lips against theirs, even if they are still closed. What matters is that Len is aware they’re at this point, or else he wouldn’t have felt so easy about teasing them just now. What matters is the way Len’s hand finds the small of their back, and the other their cheekbone.

They don’t pull apart but share the breaths back and forth when Len finally lets them slip their tongue in, desperation filling them both. It isn’t a heated kiss; it’s soft and passionate and coming home . 

Bar sighs into the kiss when their hands go along the jacket’s collar, linking behind Len’s neck. Their noses nudge against one another and they can feel just as much heat coming from Len’s cheeks as it must be the case for theirs, and it makes them chuckle into his mouth.

They both freeze when there’s something clearing their throat somewhere down the hall. But don’t let go just yet. It feels like ages since their last kiss, Bar won’t let it go now, and apparently it’s the same for Len.

Though it seems like it must be someone who’s not part of their group; that reaction would be widely different. Louder. More cheerful. More embarrassing. 

“Mr Snart,” a drawled female voice says then, “If you’d be so kind and explain what you are doing here on a Saturday morning?”

That’s when Len lets go, though not without a small groan. Bar can tell that he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but holds back. Because that’s clearly a person who should not find you kissing someone in the hallway. They quickly withdraw their hands, dropping them, and coughing awkwardly. 

The woman down the hall looks quite stoic. Like, everything about her speaks of serious snob , starting by the perfectly placed eyeliner that they can see even from her, to the perfectly manicured hands visible over their crossed arms. The dark hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, too. 

Something about her makes Bar gulp.

That isn’t the case for Len, of course. Instead, he bends down and retrieves one of the rolled up posters from the floor. “Why, Professor Vostok,” he says charmingly - exaggeratedly so, which tells Bar he’d love to do the opposite - “We are merely distributing advertisement for the university’s LGBT club.” He opens the poster and shows it to her.

The teacher raises her eyebrows at that. “You certainly looked quite invested, Mr Snart.”

He doesn’t try to excuse himself or anything, just lifts his shoulders. Bar can’t see his face, but they’re fairly sure he’s giving her his best smirk, too. 

“I will take this one for my office door,” Professor Vostok declares, reaching for the poster. “I suggest you carry on with your work ,” she adds, looking from Len to Bar. And damn, that’s quite a death glare.

They find themself nodding even though her gaze merely brushed them. 

“Of course,” Len nods. And then he waits until she’s gone on with her way. Once her footsteps’ echoes grow more and more silent, he turns around, grimacing at Bar. “What a cow.”

At that, Bar can’t hold it in any more. They let out a snorty laugh that gets louder and louder. It’s an ugly one, but they don’t care. “Fuck,” they breathe. “Was that-- Your teacher just found us making out in the hallway.” They laugh some more. “I feel like a High Schooler!”

“That was making out? And here I remembered that differently,” Len replies. He’s wearing a wide smile, too, though, almost like he’d laughed along but it had gotten muffled by their fit. He steps closer, a hand reaching out for their hip.

“We really should continue,” Bar says. Their voice is still a little weak, but they’re good again. If they’re dawdling around any longer Linda will probably be back on her rampage and now that is nothing that anyone wants.

Len doesn’t even hide his disappointment at that, even if it only looks half as grumpy as he wants it to, probably. He does pick up the other posters without a comment, though. 

“What teacher was that even?” Bar asks in a way of distraction. “Didn’t seem like you liked her very much.”

Len grunts. “That damned Thursdays class.”

Ah, that explains that then.

“At least she’s not homophobic,” Bar offers with a grin. It feels good to see him return it.

Chapter Text

Len bites back a whimper when all of a sudden Bar’s lips don’t just pause upon his, but draw away completely. They stay still above him, chest hovering above his own, and face so close that Len can see the frown before it appears fully.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrow in question as he feels Bar’s breath hot on his chin. They made no movement of rolling down from him, so he doesn’t try to sit up either. For a split moment, his eyes ghost over to the door - maybe someone’s there and that’s why they’d stopped. But it’s closed, just like they’d left it (Detective West, surprisingly, doesn’t mind it at all. Not that an open door would stop him from anything, really, he’s done worse than making out with people while in the same room as their parents before), so that can’t be it.

“Why do you always do that? That-- well, not exactly freezing up…” And before Len can even comment on that choice of words, they quickly add, “Oh, don’t say it.”

“Wasn’t gonna.”

Bar pouts at him in return, clearly not buying it.

Admittedly, a pun had rested on the tip of his tongue, so he doesn’t continue the ruse. Instead, Len concentrates on what they had said. “I wouldn’t call this freezing,” he says and scrapes his fingernails over Bar’s exposed skin where his hands are resting on their back.

He can practically feel how it sends shivers up their spine. They shudder slightly under his touch before rolling their eyes. “No, I mean-- you, well, you let me take the lead more often than not,” they tell him, “And, like-- you don’t have to do that, you know? Is it because you think you’re overstepping? I can tell you when I feel uncomfortable, that’s-- So you don’t have to, like, dial back or anything right from the start.”

Like every so often, there’s a light blush creeping up to their face. Len has learnt a long time ago that they, while being very much asexual, are not a prude at all, but as if they’re struggling to make sure both of those are combinable, it always lead to a lot of rumbling that leaves them breathless and aggravated. It’s endearing as hell and he can’t help but lean up and press a kiss against the top of their nose.

They scrunch up at that and when he pulls back, Len has to laugh. Fucking adorable.

“Did it occur to you,” he starts, putting his smirk in place, “that maybe I enjoy it?” Which he does. Bar’s quite the eager kisser and he enjoys their enthusiasm greatly.

The frown crawls back into place, only that it grows deeper this time. It isn’t just worry about how to voice their thoughts, like before, but actual lack of understanding this time around. “But… you’re no bottom,” they state. Then, their eyes grow wide. “Or are you?!”

On reflex, another chuckle escapes from Len’s lips. Then, though, he lets out a deep sigh. “I feel like you think that’s in relation to personality traits,” he says and puts an arm around their middle. Gently, he turns them so that they’re both lying on their sides, facing each other. “Plus, whether you’re a bottom or not says nothing about how you act while kissing.”

“I know that!” Bar insists. Their voice wasn’t particularly loud or anything, but still they flinch and shoot a look at the door, just like Len had done mere moments ago. They’re slightly more quiet as they continue. “I guess I just, uh, kinda keep forgetting.” They turn their head and drop it against their arm, hiding their face at the admission.

Len can’t fault them for it, actually. It can’t be a topic that’s on their mind too much, so it doesn’t surprise him they’d fall for the basic - and false - assumptions. “Okay,” he tells them. Then, he decides to tease them a little after all. “Well, for your information, I’m not a bottom.”

At that, they lift their head again. “Oh, okay?”

“Not a top either,” he shakes his head.

For a second, they look downright confused. Then it dawns on them. “Oh, so you-- you switch?”

“Depends on the partner,” he answers and shrugs as well as possible in their position. Truth is, he really doesn’t have a preference either way. He usually just goes with what the other person initiates and enjoys it while it lasts. It’s always worked quite well. 

“Huh,” Barry makes. Judging by their expression, it seems like they’re filing it away. They pull a face again as they say, “I guess I’m somewhat of a… a pillow princess? I mean-- that’s what I could imagine at the moment, if anything.”

Len snorts. “Where’d you learn that term?” But that’s really just trivial, so he continues, “You know I’d do all kinds of things to you if you let me…” For good measure, he strokes his hand over their side again.

“Yeah.” Their breath hitches a little. “Just-- not yet.”

He drops his hand immediately.

“Is that okay?” They prod. Not exactly concerned, more of casual interest.

“Of course,” he replies, turning onto his back. He wouldn’t mind, even if that not yet turned into never.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. They know that, but he can also imagine why they need that affirmation, so he gives it willingly. He doesn’t want them to develop feelings of guilt for no actual reason. “It really is.”

He gets met with a wide and happy smile. “I’m glad we can talk about things like that,” Bar tells him. They shift a little so that they are cuddled up to his side, their arm across his body so that they can stroke their thumb over his hip lightly.

“Sign of a healthy relationship,” he nods and lifts his fist to the ceiling in a mocking gesture. He means it, though, and he knows how important it is to them. He knows that he isn’t the first person whom Barry has dated, and being aware of those past experiences only reminds him of just how important that clear communication is. When it comes to anything remotely sexual, the first one doesn’t count at all - Bar and Becky Cooper, as Iris has let him know quite early on, haven’t even done so much as shared a kiss back in Middle School. The second one, a guy they’d had a thing with during Senior Year, had dropped everything quickly once Bar revealed they’re not interested in sex. Something Len can’t quite understand, to be honest. He’s never been the romantic type - before, at least - but even he’s known it doesn’t always boil down to fucking. Plenty of ways to have fun with one another. 

It’s actually refreshing to talk about his preferences like that, without any immediate actions tied to it. Even with Mick, it’s only ever been a Heat-of-the-Moment question. Just so they’d know whom to roll the condom on to. And admittedly, as much as Len likes planning, he doesn’t think it really works for sex either way, with everything coming out differently than you mean to anyways, but communicating about it so clearly has a new level of intimacy to it. 

As if they’d read his mind, they ask, “Hey, just out of interest-- Since we… have you slept with Mick?” It’s something they’ve said soon after they started dating, claiming it would be okay if he had to let off some steam or anything. One part of him thought it was quite thoughtful, the other had been concerned about whether they didn’t feel… kind of forced to allow such a thing.

“No,” he says, closing his hand over Bar’s when he puts it down again. 

They pause for a moment. “Not even when we… fought?”

It’s an unfitting description for that fallout that they’ve had, though he wouldn’t be sure what to call it either. It’s not like it was an exchanging of any cruelties, no, that just came from him. He’d deserved Bar turning from him, deserved the ache in his chest when thinking of them, and he still can’t believe they’d take him back. “No,” he says again. 

There’s a small change in their expression, something akin to pleasure mixed into it. He doesn’t know if it confirms his suspicions about why they’d offered the option to him or not, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t plan on taking it either way.

“Don’t know how to tell you that, babe,” he says, “but I’m kind of fully committed to you.”

They don’t say anything right away, just pull away their hand. Softly, so it’s no negative reaction, he can tell. In the next moment, they’ve straddled him, their bare feet against the underside of his thighs. It’s not a rushed kiss that they press against his lips, but a heated one either way. They only pull away a little, just so that their words would be audible as they say them. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says immediately. It’s still incredible how easy the words feel when it comes to them, words he hasn’t said before. He cups the back of their head and pulls them closer for another kiss, fingers gripping into their curls when their thumb ghosts over his neck.

“Happy birthday, Len,” they say when they part between kisses to gasp for air.

He can’t help but chuckle at that. A happy birthday, indeed.

Chapter Text

There is something special to Jitters early in the morning, Ava has always thought. But where there’s usually hordes of stressed and tired students trying to grab a coffee before the first class of the day, today it’s calm and empty. It’s the perks of being an early bird, no matter whether it’s the middle of the semester or the holidays where everyone spends their mornings wasting away. She understands that people work differently, that there are people who are more concentrated in the mornings and then those who can only think at night, but she’s definitely one of the former. It’s part of her day, getting up early, even if she doesn’t have anything urgent to do right away - though even tasks like cleaning and the like are some of the things she tends to do even before having breakfast on her days off.

But instead of anything like that, she’s sitting at the coffee shop at 8am, because Nyssa seems to be even more of an early bird than she is. She’s heard about it before, how she seems to run on barely any sleep at all anyway (which would be quite concerning, actually, if it weren’t for the energy she still has for just about anything, as far as Ava can tell) but she didn’t think it was true. Being invited for a joint breakfast early in the morning of the day before Nyssa goes back to Tibet, however, makes her almost believe that the chaotic group of Oliver Queen’s house haven’t been exaggerating too much after all.

Nyssa’s timing is frighteningly perfect. As soon as Ava’s phone’s clock turns to 08:00, she hears the shop’s door open. It’s a skill she’s a bit jealous of, to be honest - for ava, the anxiety of being late always makes her be way too early. Usually, she ducks out close to where she’s supposed to be, but she figured with it being a coffee meeting, nobody could fault her if she already secures a seat. Even if not a soul gets up to grab a coffee at am on a Saturday except for the two of them.

Nyssa lets her eyes roam the room leisurely, almost as if she isn’t seeking her out specifically. Still, once she finds Ava tucked away in her corner, they light up a little. Within a few seconds, she’s strut across the floor and putting her jacket - there’s a light breeze, given the hour, but still Ava wonders if carrying a jacket is a trait ingrained in her thanks to living in Tibet - across the back of the empty chair. “Ava!” She smiles. “Thank you again for meeting me, I’m really happy.”

“Of course,” Ava replies. She’s still a bit overwhelmed, truth be told, not really used to being explicitly invited to things. Especially not when it’s not a group activity that involves her out of courtesy. She gestures at her mug as she continues, “I, uh, I didn’t get you anything. I wasn’t sure what your order is--”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Nyssa waves her off swiftly. “If you’ll excuse me, I will go and get something quickly.” The way she talks is mesmerizing to listen to. Her accent is so faint that you can tell she speaks English on the daily, but still there’s a melody to it that tells you it isn’t her native. There’s small breaks where she searches for the right word and she finds it every time.

Nyssa waits patiently until Ava says that it’s okay. Only then does she turn and head to the counter. Something at the back of Ava’s mind remarks that Nyssa’s left her jacket behind, trusting her to watch it. It’s nice, somehow. Not that she’s particularly surprised; Nyssa’s invitation to meet for a final time before she has to fly back home only proves what she’d figured before: this could be a friendship. They’ve enjoyed each other’s company before, finding common grounds in every conversation they’ve had and made jokes the other knew to appreciate. Ava would have had to be very bad at reading social cues if she thought none of that was genuine. Still, it’s appreciated nonetheless. Given her family, she’s never really been anyone’s first choice; maybe she isn’t Nyssa’s either but simply the only one who’d agree to meet so early, but she’ll take it. 

Especially when Nyssa looks so delighted at her being here. Even though her mug’s filled to the brim, she doesn’t pay it much attention as she walks back to the table. Instead, she pulls light grimace when she sets it down, sighing. “I will not miss the coffee,” she declares.

Ava huffs. “It’s not that bad.” Sure, it’s not as good as the one they serve you on Hawai’i, but for Illinois it’s really okay.

“You’re probably right,” Nyssa says, tilting her head lightly. Then she brushes her hair over her shoulders. “Still, ours is much better.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Ava shrugs before she can stop herself.

They both pause for a moment before Nyssa simply says, “You’ll see when you visit me at some point.”

Ava bites back the butterflies that try to escape her stomach at that. From what she’s seen so far, Nyssa may be a very polite person, but not an overtly friendly one. She doesn’t seem like the type who’d just invite the whole world to hang out at her place, unlike some other people, so this… this invitation - because that’s what it is, isn’t it? - seems to be a sign of genuine friendship. Of course, Ava could have also misread her in general. They’ve only met a couple of times in the weeks that Nyssa’s been in Central, so it could just be possible that she’s gotten the wrong picture of her.

Somehow, though, she’s certain that she hasn’t.

“I’m looking forward to that,” she answers honestly.

And Nyssa beams as much as she’s ever seen her do it. 

-

Ava has never been great at smalltalk, finding it redundant and unnecessary most of the time. She’s known to cut straight to the point and while that usually isn’t something that people appreciate, it doesn’t seem to bother Nyssa at all. No, in fact she looks delighted as there conversation flows. Of course, it’s still more trivial things than not, but it doesn’t feel forced in any way. It’s… comfortable.

Nice.

Friendly.

She isn’t really used to have such easy-going conversations with just about anyone. Maybe Gary, but those are exhausting for entirely different reasons than when she spends more than 5 minutes talking to her family. She likes Gary, really, but the amount of times he makes a conversation die out by mentioning something awkward…

Still, with how nice her talking to Nyssa goes, it shouldn’t be a surprise that it comes to an end before she expects it. After a while, her phone goes off, indicating a new message. It’s just the single one, but it makes bursts Ava’s bubble enough to have her realize that there’s other places that Nyssa should be at. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t be keeping you,” Ava remarks with a nod at Nyssa’s phone. She hasn’t even moved to check the text, probably deeming that rude; but it’s enough of an indication that she should be somewhere else. It’s her last day in Central, after all, so she should be spending it with the person she really came to visit in the first place rather than someone she’s just met.

For a moment, agreement is clear in Nyssa’s face, but it vanishes quickly. Instead, she lifts her hands lightly. “Oh no, you aren’t--”

“I am,” Ava insists. “And I shouldn’t. I mean, if I were in your place I’d want to spend as much time with my girlfriend as possible. Especially on the last day.”

It’s clear that she has hit bull’s eye with that; she doesn’t miss the small grimace on Nyssa’s face as she argues with herself. A part of Ava wonders if she’s just trying to be nice by not cutting their meeting short or something. It’s not like they had much actual fun or anything, so she isn‘t really ending anything here or being pulled away in the middle of something.

“Come on, it’s okay,” Ava pushes. “Really, you should go. You won’t see her in who knows how long, right?” She doesn’t understand the appeal that she sees in Sara , exactly, but that doesn’t matter. She’s her girlfriend - has been for years -, so clearly she means a lot to Nyssa, and that’s the important thing. She should go and enjoy the rest fo the time she has with her. 

Even if Ava would have loved to talk to her for longer. It’s actually quite sad that Nyssa is gonna leave so soon.

“I won’t see you either,” Nyssa points out. “But we’ll be texting. We agreed on that, right?”

They did, actually, when they sat together on Pride. Nyssa had mentioned it a couple of times afterwards, too, like she was the one who needed a reassurance about not being forgotten or something; that the friendship would continue. If Ava were just a tad more ridiculous, she’d have put down a contract to ensure that they’d stay in contact. Maybe Nyssa is able to look right through her and knows she needs the promise. 

“We did,” Ava finds herself nodding. “So, really, you should go.”

Nyssa hesitates once more. Now she finally picks up her phone, shooting the message a quick look. Her expression softens a little bit, confirming Ava’s guess. She watches as her friend bites her lip before nodding at last. “Yeah, I’ll-- I mean, I still need to pack and make sure everything is in order.”

Ava nods. She’s the type to double check everything, too. “Is this where you tell me to be nice to Sara?” She jokes. They’ve been at each other for the entire semester so far, competing in every Capoeira session they had. When she got dragged to the LGBT+ club meeting by Gary, Sara didn’t look too thrilled to see her either. 

“Oh, no. If she’s mean to you, give her payback,” Nyssa replies with a shake of her head. “If she picks her battles, let her. I won’t head into them by default.” 

Ava’s lip quirks at that. She’ll really miss Nyssa, she thinks, as she watches her put on her jacket. 

Chapter Text

Snart shakes his head to himself when the door gives in to a simple turn of the knob. You’d think that a billionaire such as Queen - and Merlyn, too, for that matter - would invest in a proper alarm system, but well. It looks like he really thinks his bodyguard would do the job, even though the only thing he saves people from is badly scrambled eggs, if Lisa is to be trusted. (He knows better than to trust Lisa, though.) If he were any other thief, then these guys would be in serious trouble. He’ll have to have a word with them, especially since his baby sister doesn’t make any motions of moving out any time soon.

Navigating the Quiver has always been easy, but since he’s pretty much a regular here, he can make his way to the living room without making much noise. That he’s come on foot has helped, too, and nobody is disturbed in what they’re doing. He’d considered taking the bike, but that’s always been a point of discussion with Bar: according to them, he’s being hypocritical if he’s a vegetarian but doesn’t watch his footprint in the environment in any other way. Nevermind the fact that his not eating meat only started to piss off his father. They’d even offered that he could tag along to their rounds of jogging, just to get a feeling for it, but he’d declined quite swiftly. Even when he’d run from the police he’d never actually run , so he sure as hell won’t start now.

By now, he knows what kind of chaos to expect from the inhabitants of the Quiver. No place that has his sister around is safe in general, but the fact that so many members of their group chat are also present doesn’t help the case. They’re a lost cause. He’s pretty sure if Lisa and Pipes were left alone in the house, it would end in an explosion. Maybe because they worked together, maybe because they bumped heads. Flying knives must also be on the daily agenda, given that Sara and Oliver live under the same roof. Basically, it’s a miracle that the house is still standing.

Something that he most definitely did not expect was to walk right into a yoga session. Starring Merlyn and Pretty Bi, no less. Last he’s heard Thawne creeping up on the other during a session was a great point of discussion and now they’re in the middle of doing a ridiculous pose - each for himself - right to each other. They’re even wearing those tight pants and shirts, stretching just right across their skin to show off all the good bits. 

He may not like either of them but he can appreciate a good asset if he sees one, so he leans his side against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watches them. He doubts they’d have noticed him even if he announced his presence, simply because they’ve got a fucking soundtack turned on, too. Now, Snart knows jackshit about that, but he thinks that may be a bit over the top. 

“Like what you see?” A voice next to him speaks up. He generally wouldn’t be startled by someone randomly appearing next to him, but especially not when Sara keeps her voice so low as to not disturb the two in front of them. She isn’t even looking at him, but straight ahead with a smirk on her face. 

He huffs lightly. “Can’t fault me for appreciating the show,” he responds equally low. 

Her smile only grows wider, he sees when he turns to face her. She keeps looking ahead, though, bringing a mug to her lips without taking her eyes off the two. 

He returns to doing the same, watching as they change the position at a certain signal. Seeing them bending down like this, he wonders if he should try talk Bar into starting Yoga as well; it would certainly… highlight certain features. But knowing them, they’d partner up with Thawne in the end and if there’s one thing he really doesn’t need it’s the guy spotting Bar like that. The one round of his hitting on them - joke or not - had been exhausting enough. 

“Is Pipes upstairs?” He asks Sara, banishing those thoughts. Bar’s already got enough on their plate, he doesn’t need to add more to it just for his own fun. At her raised eyebrow, he answers, “He asked me to help him pack, else I wouldn’t be here.” He really wouldn’t - he’s got better things to do between therapy and his dreaded class (but it’s the last one of that for the semester, so that’s a relief), but Pipes is always a special case. For all he knows, the kid might want to have a talk and is too screwed up to ask for it openly.

“He’s still out,” Sara shakes her head. “But his shift’s ended, like, half an hour ago, so it shouldn’t be taking too long.” 

Snart hums in reply. He’d known Pipes was working today, but had gathered he’d be back by now. He’s probably made a stop at Jitters or something or decided to check in on Cisco’s writing progress and gotten his head clawed off or something. It really wouldn’t surprise him. 

He likes that Sara isn’t interrogating him about his helping the kid - it’s not like he’s the most helpful person out there, so it should already seem questionable that he’d consider asking him. She must be curious, too, knowing her, but she isn’t the type to openly ask about it. (At least not in person. At least not him.) She’s probably realized that, even if it’s completely against his nature and he’d never admit it out loud, he’s kind of taken the guy under his wing. Solidarity and all.

The men in front of them move again, this time into a position that looks quite leger 

and doesn’t give much to appreciate, really. Their muscles are still strained nicely, though, so he won’t complain. 

“How the hell did they even end up like this?” Snart inquires. “I thought Yoga was a No-Thawne-Zone.” There should be more of those, in his opinion.

Sara snorts lightly. “Figure it’s something like a goodbye present.”

“Good riddance more like it.”

She stifles a chuckle in reply, lifting the mug to her mouth again. She doesn’t ask him if he wants something to drink either, not for a lack of manners but as a sign that they don’t do guests normally here. The quiver doesn’t have guests in that sense. Just people who stop by and feel like they’re at home. Snart hasn’t quite reached that feeling yet - and he doubts he ever will - but he knows if he wants something from the kitchen, he can just take it. It’s not like their isn’t enough money going around in the house. 

A part of him appreciates that the offer extends to him as well. Queen had been worried about his… tendencies at the beginning, still makes remarks about it sometimes, but he doesn’t show any concerns whenever Snart’s visiting Lisa. He’s found Sara’s sister eye him suspiciously at times, as well as the bodyguard, but given their professions, they’ve got a point, he thinks. On the other side, Thawne seems to be complaining about everything about him (the feeling is mutual, really) except that he could have sticky fingers again - he knows enough about his therapy and medication, though, so that could be an explanation. G*d , he hadn’t even considered that the detective’s new partner wouldn’t just mean fun to him. He feels rather… exposed, sometimes.

It doesn’t take too long until the door’s opened behind them. Both he and Sara are aware enough of their surroundings to notice, in contrast to the Yogis in front of them, who remain oblivious to it. A short look over his shoulder confirms to Snart that it’s Pipes coming home. 

The kids stops short for a second, raising his brows at the two of them. In a swift motion, he’s discarded his messenger bag and stepped up to them. Snart decides to humour him and turns a little so that he could look past him rather than to try look over his shoulder. Knowing their luck, they’d all end up tumbling right onto the scene. 

“Ah, I see we’re being awful,” Pipes declares. He keeps his voice low, too, though, and there’s a smirk in place, so he’s most definitely about to join them.

Sara seems to come to the same conclusion, because she nudges him. “Oh, come on, you’ll miss this.”

“A little, maybe.” At the doubtful look that Snart sends him, he shrugs. “I mean, I’m taking one of them with me, so that’s something.”

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear that.”

They all stop short when Merlyn speaks up. He isn’t even looking back at them or disrupting his current movement - stretching to the side like he’s warming up, from what it looks like. 

“Shoulda shut up, Pipes,” Snart offers. He supposes three’s been too much of a crowd anyways.

“Like we didn’t hear you before Hart showed up,” Thawne chimes in now. Just like Merlyn, he doesn’t stop doing his practice. He does, however, look over his shoulder, offering them a wide grin. “At least you guys understand why I’ve been so after this viewership.”

Merlyn snorts. “Watch it.”

“I’ll confess, I’ve always been creeping.” Sara lifts a hand. She doesn’t look ashamed either, but gleeful.

“Yeah, same.”

“Hartley, I’ve probably been creeping around before you were even born.”

“Not too far off,” Merlyn answers and the same time that Snart goes, “Sounds likely.” Well, Sara is five years older than Hartley, so she’s definitely been creeping around before he was born, yeah.

They all stay silent for a moment, not sure whether they should be saying something or chuckling. It’s awkward. Snart doesn’t do awkward.

“Okay, enough about creeping,” he decides. He puts a hand on Pipes’ shoulder and turns him around with a swift motion. “Let’s get going.”

Sara waves them off while looking back at Merlyn and Thawne. “Yeah, have fun. I’ll keep watching,” she tells them. The mug is back in her face before either of them can say anything. 

Snart can’t imagine that it’s fun any more now that they’ll be obnoxious about how they look. Really, looking through the embarrassing things up in Pipes’ room will probably be more interesting.

-

“You’re the most boring person alive.”

They don’t even have to file through anything. all they do is putting one box into another, and another, and another. Honestly, if he didn’t know any better, Snart would think that Pipes had sorted out his shit before. They’ve learnt just how chaotic Pipes can be, haven’t they? He’s expected a little more chaos. Aren’t geniuses supposed to be chaotic?

“Shut up,” Pipes retorts, which, honestly? Ballsy. “You know better than anyone how little stuff I took here with me.”

True, back when his parents threw him out, it had been Snart, Bar and Thawne who’d grabbed a few of his things. Really just the necessities, the first things they could grab before the intimidation tactic stopped working. Somehow, though, it had never struck him just how little they’d brought here. By now, though, he’d thought there’d be… more. A clatter of letters, at least. The others have taken him shopping, so there’s clothes scattered across the handful of boxes, to be fair. 

Briefly, Snart wonders if he should grant the Rathaways another visit. But without Pipes, how should he know what exactly to take? And he certainly won’t force him back in there again. Maybe Cisco, but it’s not like they’d even been friendly before the whole debacle happened. 

But fucking hell, Hartley has less of his own things than he does. That’s fucked up.

“I’m disappointed,” he says instead of anything else. Enough of being sentimental and shit like that. “There’s not even porn mags here.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Pipes reminds him easily, tossing another notebook into a box. He doesn’t even give Snart time to respond that yeah , he’s very much aware, but adds, “Besides, it’s the 21st century, who even buys porn magazines ? You know what the internet is, right?”

Snart throws a pair of socks at his head.

Chapter Text

Secretly, Snart had all the reason to decline any drinks that have been offered this way. It might take a lot to get him tipsy, not to mention drunk, but he’d rather his mind stay completely unclouded as he sifts through the heaps of people around him. He might not let it on around the others, especially not Bar - he wouldn’t want to worry them - but he can feel his hands twitch even when they’re shoved deep into his jeans; a remainder of the old times, he guesses. After all, attending the Pride parade used to mean full pockets for him and empty ones for everyone else, and training - no, almost reflexes at this point - ain’t that easy to get rid off. 

It’s why he’s stayed away from the crowd so far. Queen’s float had been more than welcome, given that he’d been occupied otherwise up there, not to mention that it’s less tempting to steal from a group of people he knows, even if that one includes more billionaires than should be on the planet as a whole, ethically speaking. Up there he’s been busy talking and making sure nobody he cares about falls to the ground, so it hadn’t even crossed his mind to let his fingers slip. Down on the street, though, it’s a whole different deal.

He supposes it would have been best if he’d stayed with the others where they’d settled down on the sidelines once the parade was through, but there’s only so much stupidity he can take at once. Besides, from what he’s seen they haven’t noticed one of theirs gone missing yet, too engrossed in their discussions and singing, and if Snart’s instincts haven’t completely gone off the rails, it certainly would ruin their fun if they knew. 

And even if his initial thought is proven to be wrong, Pipes has had so many drinks by now that he shouldn’t be left wandering around alone, period. He briefly thought of recruiting Mick, maybe, so he could carry the guy off if he doesn’t want to tag along, but he’d been too busy eyefucking Amaya and Heywood to even notice Snart getting ready to leave the group. 

So Snart’s making his way through the crowd on his own, then. It’s probably to Pipes’ approval that he won’t alert too many people to his absence anyway.

Figuring out where Pipes has  - probably, he has to admit - run off to is not too difficult. Given the energy that the combination of having fun on the float and drinking too much alcohol than he, quite literally, is allowed to have, and the location that the parade has concluded at… It makes sense to Snart, at least, and he guesses that it might be the case for Pipes, too, considering being screwed over by your parents is something they have in common.

He supposes that having Rathaway Industries as his distraction helps him keep his hands to himself, too, but he tries his best to get out of the crows as soon as possible anyways. Better not risk having people stumble into him as they dance and setting off dusty mechanisms.

Besides, Rathaway Industries’ headquarter is a little ways off - he supposes if the people if they turned their backs, they would be perfectly oblivious to Pride even happening. In fact, he’s fairly sure that this is exactly what they are doing. If they didn’t fuck off entirely, that is. It’s Saturday, after all, so there’s a chance the entire company ran away so they wouldn’t catch a dose of homosexuality.

Which would probably be for the better, all things considered. The headquarters are only a block away, which is still far enough for all the others to completely forget about its existence in their drunken state, but Snart quickly makes his way over there once he’s gotten out of the partying people. 

It turns out that his instincts do not betray him - as soon as he turns the corner to the HQ, he can see Pipes. He sticks out like a sore thumb even in the abandoned business district, what with his naked and sunburnt torso; Snart’s not quite sure when his shirt, now tied around his waist, has come off, but he can’t imagine that Snow would approve if she saw the reddened skin. It glistens in the sunlight, too, though Snart can’t tell if it’s caused by sweat or glitter. Probably both.

He looks like he’s standing completely still as he stares up at the big fancy ‘R’, as if he was trying to decipher some foreign alphabet (which, under any other circumstance, wouldn’t be too far off for Pipes). Stepping closer, though, Snart sees that he was mistaken - Pipes isn’t standing still, he’s trembling .

Only slightly, barely noticeable, but it’s there and definitely not caused by the weather. Snart has plenty of reasons to dislike the month of June, and the temperature is one of them. Seeing Pipes frozen in place like that makes him stop in his tracks, too, though only shortly.

There’s many moods that the guy comes in - from bubbly and lous to reclused , even if the former seems more frequent nowadays - and something tells him that, underneath, he is always close to acting like this .

Which means Snart can deal with it.

Still, he approaches Pipes carefully, noticing that his hand is closed around something. It wouldn’t do any good if he spooked him and ended up with his hand smashed in.

At least that would be an option if he were in Pipes’ place. He certainly wouldn’t have anything nice in his mind right now. In fact, even as it is in this moment, he feels tempted to join in on the action.

Something makes him stop, though. Maybe the fact that there’s a bunch of people whose day would be unnecessarily ruined if more police came barging in. It’s already been dreadful enough to spend hours in close proximity to one cop, he doesn’t need any more.

“Pipes,” he tries, voice sharp but tentative as he steps closer to the boy.

There’s no reaction, of course.

Snart’s pretty much right next to him, which is closer than they’ve been in quite a while. And an entirely different context.

He tries again. “Hartley,” this time, stepping up so much that he must see him in his peripheral vision.

Whch he doesn’t, of course, because Pipes is so damn focused on that fucking building in front of him and whterver’s going on in his mind. There might be a chance that Pipes turned off his hearing aids, too, come to think of it, with all that noise going on.

Truth be told, Snart kind of envies him for having that option sometimes.

Direct approach then.

Snart rounds him, stepping right in front of him - though still keeping his distance - so that Pipes cannot miss him this time. “Hartley,” he tries again, and holds out a hand. Index and middle finger pointing to the side, closed fist, crossing his index and middle finger and - he stumbles, blanking on the next letter. He’s picked up more words than letters while watching Pipes and Cisco have their little chat; turns out it was a mistake not to do his own research.

Still, it breaks Pipes out of his stupor. Quite literally so, judging by his rapid blinkng and how it takes a moment for him to get an amused smile plastered onto his face.

“Are you trying to spell my name?” He asks, halfway confused, too. His words aren’t even slurred, so the alcohol may not be too bad on him. Still, he’s had plenty earlier.

Snart almost replies sarcastically on reflex, but thinks better of it. “Failing miserably, aren’t I?” He counters instead.

Pipes doesn’t answer verbally, but his grin grows wider. Snart supposes it’s a good sign that he’s still capable of being a little shit.

“Are your aids on?” He asks, and when Pipes nods, he stops out of his field of vision again. So he’d properly spaced out earlier, then.

Pipes doesn’t even look at him when Snart stands next to him. Instead, his eyes fly up to the building again.

Snart mirrors him easily. After a second, he whistles through his teeth. “That’s gotta be the ugliest office building I have ever seen,” he says. Not entirely true, with its whole front being made of windows, but that’s beside the point. Plus, he thinks that’s gotta be quite a fire hazard when it reflects sunlight.

It coaxes a snort out of Pipes in any case. “I know, right?”

Snart clicks his tongue. “So, what are you gonna do to it?”

Now Pipes looks at him, surprise written all over his face. “What do you mean?” He wants to know. He’s not good at this whole pretense, especially when his hand twitches at his side.

Snart glares back - to his surprise, and maybe delight as well, Pipes doesn’t look away. Not a poker face, what with his brows being knit together as he bites his lip, but he doesn’t back away either. It’s a start, really. Still, that’s not what he’s trying to test here.

“What’s that in your hand?” He wants to know, nodding down at it. 

For just a second, Pipes looks like he’s entirely forgotten about it. His face falls in confusion and he looks down at it, too, shifting his hand a little. He doesn’t open it just yet. 

“Nothing,” he says, a little weakly, when he looks back at Snart.

Snart hums softly in response. By now, he’s feeling more amused than concerned, which might make him an even bigger asshole. In his defense, there’s a chance that even Hartley’s spacing out was caused by being drunk rather than dissociating. 

And it’s cute that he thinks he can hide it from him, really.

“Not breaking in then?” He suggests. In another life, Pipes would have made a good thief, perhaps. Which is definitely not a thought he should spend too much time on.

“What?” Pipes makes, almost sounding a little offended. “No!” Which is quite rude.

Snart could have imagined it, though. Break in and trash a few offices, seeing how the building seems to have, in fact, been abandoned for the day. Pipes might be good enough to guess his parents’ passwords, so if he really felt like it, he could truly fuck up their devices and whatnot. They’d certainly deserve it, even if the way Wayne’s cut ties with their business has cost them a multi-million dollar deal, not to mention the public attention that not only that but Queen’s whole stunt created. It’s nice to know that they are feeling it at least a little, even if it’s nowhere close to what they deserve.

They would deserve this maneuver.

Still. 

“Don’t tell me you just came here to appreciate the architecture,” Snart says. Another joke to crack the guy, albeit not a good one.

Pipes… well, he does not exactly scowl in response, but it’s close to one. “No, I--” Again, his hands drift down to his hand.

Truth be told, Snart’s growing a tad impatient here. “Come on, Hartley,” he says with a sigh, “Why don’t you show me what you have there?” He lets slight annoyance colour his voice on purpose. Because, actually, he doesn’t mind this little break away from the excitement their group has going on; some silence and air to breathe is actually appreciated. But at the same time he feels like he won’t get far with Pipes if he doesn’t push a little.

Pipes hesitates, of course, but only for a moment. He leaves out a shaky breath as he extends his hand, turning it over so Snart can see what he’s holding onto.

In retrospect, Snart’s not sure what he even expected. It’s not like he’d think Pipes would walk around and acquire a gun or whatever to wreak havoc, but a big part of him was not prepared for something… quite so simple. Because what’s in his hand is a stone - a rather small one, at that, considering he can easily hold it like that - and that’s so ridiculous Snart has to keep himself from laughing. 

At once, he understands what Pipes’ been thinking about. Some easy vandalism, trashing, at most, one window before any alarms went off. It’s weak as hell. Not at all what the boy could be capable of, if he’s honest to himself. 

But then Snart realizes something that he, and maybe the others as well, might have forgotten: Hartley is, first and foremost, an angry, scared and hurt teenager . He is, all things considered, a kid who's had to take charge of his own life way too soon. And sure, he's had quite the safety net, but it must have been insanely hard .

His idea of revenge might be… softer than anything Snart would have come up with, but it's that. A hurt kid's reaction. 

A reaction that, as much as it’s justified, he should not act on, actually. Because there’s a whole group of vulnerable people just a block over, people who are celebrating themselves and each other and cannot afford to get busted over some small shit. And because Pipes can’t afford it - there’s no use getting into trouble because of those assholes, and Snart’s pretty sure they’d fully enjoy the chance of grilling his ass.

So, yeah. Looks like he has to pull through with what he’s initially set out to do: Keep Pipes from doing shit. The only question is how to do that, because he knows that kid is nothing if not spiteful, so if he tries talking him out of it just like that, that small stone, tiny as it is, might be flying sooner than he can stop it. 

Reverse psychology, then. He just hopes Pipes is distraught enough not to spot it right away. Snart feels a little ridiculous for making such a big deal out of this, honestly, but at the same time he… well, he doesn’t care , obviously. It’s just pretty obviously a huge thing for Pipes and he doesn’t need it to explode on anyone’s head. That’s all.

“Which window are you going for?” He wants to know. “Think you can hit dear old Osgood’s monitor from here?” It’s an empty comment, of course. CEOs tend to hog the top floor for themselves, so even good athletes won’t be able to hit it. Pipes is the perfect opposite of a jock.

Again, Pipes looks surprised. Not the reply he was expecting. His wide eyes go from Snart back to the building, up there to where said office probably is. Definitely out of reach.

Snart whistles through his teeth. “Well, that’ll get their attention.”

“I don’t want their attention,” Pipes scoffs on reflex. He sounds like a brat. 

“Sure don’t,” Snart agrees. Toeing the line between truth and what might hurt the guy even more. “Still, you’ll get it. Maybe other people’s, too.”

That he doesn’t seem to have realized yet. Snart can’t blame him - that whole ending up here doesn’t seem to have been planned in any way. Spur of the moment, planted into his brain by alcohol and emotional overload, probably. Now that it’s out there, though, Pipes seems to mull it over.

He narrows his brows in thought, but his hand closes even tighter around the stone, in the end.

Snart lifts his hands and gives a little shrug of innocence. “Hey, I guess it’s not like you ain’t used to that,” he muses. Which might be a low blow, all things considered. 

The reaction he gets is an appropriate glare. Pipes closes his eyes for just a moment, before putting on an angry grimace. Then, he sighs. “Snart, what the hell are you trying to do?” He spats. “I’m not stupid.”

That’s not a thought he would have entertained anyway. But it seems like banking on Pipes’ anger getting the best of him won’t work either. So… Snart suppresses rolling his eyes. The truth, then. 

Direct approach. Again.

Hartley’s really not making this easy for him.

Fine.

Snart straightens his back. “Look, you’re about to get cops called on your ass. Which is fine by me, really. Your loss,” he tells him, his voice stern. “ But what you gotta remember is that a few streets down,” he jerks his head into the direction of the parade, “are not just your friends but also a whole lot of people who won’t have a good experience with the pigs.”

The annoyance falls from Pipes’ face at that. He presses his lips together, his eyes flickering to the distance. 

Well, Snart will be damned. That’s really the way he’s gonna play this?

“But whatever,” he continues, faking nonchalance. “Go ahead, show them they still have influence on you.”

In any other situation, it would have been funny to see Pipes’ expression change after every single sentence he says. As it is, though, he’s keeping a straight face when Hartley grows visibly angry. “ Oh ,” he makes. “Like you get to tell me about that.”

Snart doesn’t flinch, of course. Who would’ve thought Pipes has got such balls on him, though? And maybe Snart’s voice is a bit pressing as he replies, but that’s just to highlight his point. “ Yes , I do ,” he tells him. “Because I know what’s it like, alright? And I know that if you do a single violent thing to them or their property, they’ll go on about how that’s connected to your lifestyle . You understand that? They’ll think they’ve been right .”

He can tell that Pipes doesn’t want to agree with him, but that he connects the dots and comes to the same conclusion. It’s the same spiel as it always is: Don’t fight fire with fire, no matter how much they burnt you. No matter how much they deserve it. 

But he knows that it would only backfire on Hartley as it is. He isn’t at a point where he’d actually win that fight, but he’s got the potential. Snart can tell that he’s on his way up there, and that he’ll get to spit his parents in the face from a higher position. 

He’ll get there if he doesn’t fuck up now.

Pipes looks very much overwhelmed, like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. His eyes keep shooting back and forth, and the trembling starts again; this time Snart can tell right away. He catches it on his lips, too.

Ah, what the hell. If he’s lucky, Pipes will try to keep this entire scene a secret. Or he’ll get so hammered later that he’ll forget about it. So Snart doesn’t think on it for too long but reaches out, cupping his neck with a hand and pulls him against him. 

A small yelp comes from Pipes, but it gets muffled when his face hits Snart’s shirt. It only takes a second for him to grasp into the back of it.

At least he’s not sobbing.

He’s dropped the stone, too, so that means this awkwardness is worth it. Pipes is sweaty to his touch and the glitter will be awful to deal with, but that’s okay. 

“You know what we’re-- what you’re gonna do?” He says over Hartley’s head. “Turn your back and get your ass back to the parade. Celebrate the shit out of this day with the people who love you. The people who love like you. And screw these assholes.” He pulls back, but keeps his hold on Pipes’ neck, making him look at him. His nose is a little red, along with the rest of his face, but something tells him that isn’t sunburn. “Understood?”

For good measure, apparently, Pipes sniffs. “Got it,” he nods, his voice a bit strained.

It’s enough for Snart to let go off him again. He shakes himself a little once Pipes has stepped back, looking at the mess his shirt has become. It’s not as much glitter as it could have been, and they are at a parade, after all, so it’s not like anybody’s gonna ask. “Come on, then,” he declares. “I need a drink.”

Pipes follows suit as he stalks off, falling in step with him, though he has to hurry a bit. “Um, I-- thanks,” he says shyly. 

Snart just rolls his eyes. “Don’t mention it,” he answers. “Literally.”

Chapter Text

July hit Central City hard this year, but with all those people crammed into a small apartment, Cisco's happy with even the slightest bit of fresh air. A part of him wonders just how well Hartley will adjust to having that small a space to himself - Cisco's never been to the Rathaways' place, but he guesses even the Quiver is small in comparison to it; now the new apartment is even smaller . It's not even twice as big as Cisco's flat, and it'll probably harbor more people at times. Like right now. 

Cisco loves this group, and he's an extrovert more than anything else, but damn . Chaos has them in its clutches. 

That's why he's not surprised to find that he's not alone when he steps out onto the balcony. (Not like he'd have noticed someone missing in the group, they're all spread out across the apartment and yet everyone's in reach. It's fascinating.)

"Oh hey," Ronnie nods from where xe's sitting on the ground, xyr back against the wall. "Pizza or a hit?" Xe offers freely, gesturing to the plate of slices in front of them with the hand holding a blunt.

Cisco reaches out for the joint as he sinks down across from xem. "Just finished a slice," he offers at xyr baffled look. A part of him thinks it should go against his instincts to smoke pot here, as a trans Latino at a cop's apartment, but… he trusts Eddie like that, he supposes. And the balcony faces the river, so it's not like anyone will pay them any mind since there's a better view on hand. So he takes a drag.

Ronnie shrugs and digs back into xyr pizza, looking pretty much at ease out here. Still, for good measure, Cisco has to ask.

"You good?" He wants to know. The marijuana may be prescribed, and Ronnie uses it so rarely that xe has no problems with sharing it, but still. Feels appropriate to ask.

"Yup," Ronnie makes, popping the p . Xe catches up on Cisco's mental progress, so xe adds, "Took it with me in case Mick wanted any, but so far he didn't ask and I kinda felt like it."

Well, Cisco can't fault xem for it, he thinks with a look at the swirl of smoke coming from in-between his fingers. So instead, he takes another drag and hands it back over, all the while staying quiet.

There's a wave of laughter coming from inside, everyone's voices ringing happily.

It makes Ronnie grin, anyhow. "Man, can you believe we're in Hartley's first apartment that he shares with a cop?"

"Honestly, it's a miracle they even ended up settling on one," Cisco says. With the many communication issues between those two, they could have easily stayed in the Quiver for another year. Oliver certainly wouldn't have minded.

"Yeah," Ronnie chuckles in agreement. "And, like, a year ago you wouldn't even have touched anything belonging to Hart with a stick."

At that, Cisco's not quite sure whether to laugh or grimace. The way he and Hartley have been to each other is kind of a sensitive topic, even if they make fun of it. And discussing it with Ronnie, who's involved in the whole mess in more ways than one, seems like a special kind of slippery slope. 

"You know, I did have to collaborate with him a few times, right?" Cisco says, because it's true. Sure, he might have disliked Hartley a lot, but he was professional when it mattered. 

Ronnie nods, which makes sense given that xe's been there for plenty of those occasions. "Still… Now you even take him to visit your grandpa!"

There it is. Cisco had seriously hoped that the small discussion in the chat had been enough of that particular topic, but apparently not. And Ronnie looks genuinely happy about that development - Cisco has no doubt that xe actually is , at least to some degree, because it's not like xe's been any awful about their relationship. Maybe for a short while after the break-up, which is valid, of course, but afterwards xe's been, like, their biggest supporter. It speaks volumes about how much Ronnie has cared (and still does) about Cisco. Which, in turn, means it's no surprise that this topic actually kind of irks xem.

Cisco, however, might be a coward. So all he says is, "Yeah, crazy, right?"

Now Ronnie takes another hit. Xe blows the smoke out heavily, watching it fade into thin air. “Totally,” xe agrees. Then, after a beat, xe adds, “Especially since it’s only been, like, half a year.”

It doesn’t sound bitter or anything. Ronnie rarely ever does. Xe’s chill as they come, taking things just as they are. Of course, xe can be angry or hurt, as their break-up definitely has established, but xe’s also super understanding. 

But it makes sense that this has an effect on xem. Cisco kind of knows that feeling, after all.

“Ronnie--”

“It’s cool,” xe says and puts out the blunt by pressing it against the wall next to xem. Clearing off the dirt it created, xe avoids Cisco’s eye.

And it is, actually. Cool.

But at the same time, it isn’t.

Ronnie’s never made any indication of wanting to tag along when Cisco went to visit family. Cisco also didn’t invite xem along, however, and he’s not really sure why that’s been. What he’s said in the chat has been part of it, his abuelo probably wouldn’t have been able to wrap his mind around the fact that Ronnie dated two people, even if they explained it. Ronnie’s lack of Spanish knowledge would’ve also caused problems, plus… well, Spanish is a gendered language. And it’s not like Ronnie’s not familiar with being misgendered (even if xe shouldn’t be) and like xe can’t handle it (even if it were okay if xe couldn’t) but Cisco wouldn’t have felt right about it. But somehow, it all feels like excuses either way. He can’t really explain it to himself.

How is he supposed to explain it to Ronnie?

There’s another reason why Hartley tags along, too. “My family has, like, second-hand hatred for Hart,” he tells xem. 

Ronnie blows a raspberry. “Wonder why.”

Naturally, Cisco shoves xem playfully. “No, but seriously,” he continues then. “My abuelo only knows him from how I talked about Hartley, which, you know, meant years of being pissed at him versus just a few months of liking him, so-- Hart’s a little concerned about how he might feel about him.”

"That makes sense," Ronnie says, xyr voice a little thoughtful. 

Cisco knows that xe isn’t just pretending that it doesn’t bother xem - for most of it, it might actually be true. There’s a chance that it does and xe just hasn’t put it together yet. He remembers quite a few moments where Ronnie’s felt a certain way (be it anger or sadness or something else) and it's turned into a whole investigation, simply because the rational part of xyr brain had decided that xe shouldn’t feel those emotions for whatever reason; it didn’t stop them for appearing altogether, xe just didn’t connect the feelings to certain thoughts.

So, yeah. There’s a real possibility that Ronnie is upset but doesn’t quite realize it. And that’s why xe’s extra chill and cheery today. Coping mechanisms and all that.

At least, Cisco guesses that is the case. If their roles were switched, he’d be hella pissed. He should explain himself. “Hartley is sure my abuelo hates him,” he says thoughtfully. “Which he might actually do - don’t tell him, though. Guy already hates himself enough as it is.”

Ronnie snorts. “When have I ever been the person to make someone feel like shit?” Xe says with a grin.

And xe has a point, but still Cisco rolls his eyes. “I loved you - I really did,” he says next. “Don’t think Hartley gets to go to Puerto Rico with me because my feelings for him are stronger than those for you or… Well, or whatever, really.” They’re different, for sure, and more intense because of their whole history. But he doubts you can even compare those relationships, actually. And you probably shouldn’t.

At that, Ronnie blinks at him. Not in that lazy way, as if the pot was clogging xyr brain, but like xe’s just understood something. Xe certainly has, because xe quickly looks down at the ground as xe mumbles. “I hadn’t--”

“I’m not saying that you did,” Cisco says quickly. It’s not like he expects xem to still be hung up on him or something. He very well knows that it’s not the case. “But it’d be valid if you had thought so, because this whole situation, well-- I’m just saying, though, you not having met my abuelo had nothing to do with a lack of love on my part.”

This time, Ronnie stays silent for a moment. Cisco can see xem press xyr lips together. Not like xe is keeping xemself from talking altogether - more like xe’s really thinking it over. In the end, xe nods. “That’s… good to know,” xe says, actually seeming a bit refreshed.

“Figured.” Cisco lets out a breath. 

He feels like this whole scene should feel more awkward, probably, but it isn’t. It’s actually… a relief, to be talking to Ronnie like this, and it’s comfortable to be chilling with xem. But it also hangs in the air between them, with that serious feeling to it that Cisco kind of hates, even if there’s still laughter and chatter coming from the living room.

So, as Ronnie looks towards the river, Cisco talks some more. “You know, I think if a  guy comforts you when you have a breakdown over your ex getting engaged,” he says wistfully, “Then he deserves proving to your abuelo that he’s not that shitty.”

For a small moment he feels panic swell up in his chest. Fuck , he had not meant to spill the beans about his reation to Cait and Ronnie’s engagement… ever. Definitely not like this when he wanted to take some tension off their shoulders. Why it slipped out? He has no idea. 

And he halfway expects Ronnie to focus on that, simply because it is what fits into their previous conversation, but of course xe surprises him.

Or rather, not exactly surprise . Cisco knows that a part of Ronnie might revel in him still caring so much about xem, but he’s very much aware that xe isn’t mean . Just like xe said - xe wouldn’t use it against him, wouldn’t even rile him up or make fun of him for it when he was the one who ended things between them. Ronnie would cherish that thought, probably, but keep it to xemself, ultimately. If xe does end up mentioning it to Caitlin, then not to make Cisco look bad. 

So instead, right now, xe just hums softly. “Hart did that?” Xe wonders. “Man, he’s way better at that boyfriend business than I thought.”

Cisco laughs. “That’s exactly what I said!”

Ronnie joins easily at that, the sound of xyr laughter ringing in his ears. Again, there’s no malice anywhere between them, it’s just utter delight and surprise. Xe’s not even taking the piss at Hartley. It’s why it doesn’t evolve into a whole laughing fit but stops after a few moments when Ronnie sobers up again. “You know me proposing to Cait isn’t related to you either, yeah? I mean… Not directly.”

It’s almost funny, really, how similar those occurrences are, when you think about it. But they are, and Cisco kind of appreciates that Ronnie’s mind goes there. “You’ll laugh again,” he starts, “but Hartley said so, too.”

It does make xem chuckle again. Shaking xyr head, xe announces, “Man, you gotta make your grandpa see how good the dude is.”

This time, Cisco doesn’t answer. Because he doesn’t know what to say - he’d figured Ronnie would get it, with xem and Hartley being close friends and all, but he hadn’t quite thought through what to say when xe does agree. He’s glad xe does, of course. Maybe there’s no need for any addition to that. Sometimes conversations are just… finished, he supposes.

“Wanna see if we can convince the others to play some Twister?” He asks instead, squinting inside. He knows that Eddie, for reasons he doesn’t want to implore any further, owns a mat and that he actually brought it along.

Ronnie purses xyr lips. “You know most of them are already tipsy, right?”

“Exactly!” Cisco grins. “Come on, I wanna see if anyone ends up with a boner,” he declares and pushes himself off the ground. 

It doesn’t take a full moment until Ronnie theatrically sighs like that glint in their eyes didn’t appear at the idea. When xe holds up xyr hand for Cisco to pull xem up, though, they both end up grinning at each other. They are, after all, still on the same wavelength.

Chapter Text

The Wests' living room. Table and couch, as well as the armchair, are pushed to the side so that the large carpet underneath is open. It is covered with plates and jugs of food and drinks now, with the groupchat members - with the exception of Oliver - plus Lisa, Wally and Joe sitting on the ground around them. Some people are leaning against pillows, but most are sitting with their legs crossed in one way or another.

BAR: [kneels with a cup of apple juice in their hand] Um, so… To be honest, I have no idea how these go, because, well… you know, this is my first Yom Kippur, too-- [looks over to Snart in question] So, do we just go around the table like on Thanksgiving?

SNART: [shrugs] My Yom Kippur usually just means Mick listing off all his complaints from the past year and me apologizing the whole day.

IRIS: Damn, Oliver wasn’t so wrong after all, huh? [chuckles]

MICK: He deserves it.

LISA: Aw, really? Man, now I’m sad I’ve been gone for so long. 

SNART: [sends a glare in her direction]

CISCO: You guys don’t do this by the book anyways, so honestly, who cares if we just… do that? I don’t think the Big Guy will strike you down for that.

CAITLIN: Besides Bar’s already labeled it ‘reverse thanksgiving’.

JOE: [chuckles] Sounds about right.

BAR: Okay, well. Then I suppose I’ll start--?

SNART: No, let me. Being the actual Jew here and all.

BAR: You sure? [sits down]

SNART: Yeah, whatever. [quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear] Thank fuck I already got the worst ones of my chest before you had the idea of inviting the group, though.

WALLY: Language.

SNART: [sends him a glare]

WALLY: [raises his hands in defense]

JOE: He ain’t wrong.

SARA: Oh, Snart, before you start: Please plan in a bathroom break, okay?

SNART: Oh, fuck off, Lance, I wasn’t even half as mean to you guys.

MICK: [with a reproachful expression] Ya, y’all turned him soft!

RONNIE: That’s how you define soft?

HARTLEY: Let the man speak!

SNART: [rubs the bridge of his nose] Pipes, you continue to be the only person to trust.

LISA: Rude.

JOE: [seriously] Unless someone else wants to start you guys better shut the hell up.

EVERYONE: [sobers up immediately]

SNART: Thanks, Detective. 

JOE: [lifts his glass at him]

SNART: Well, I guess I can start with you while I’m at it. I’m sorry for, uh, falling in love with your kid and for having them, for reasons that are beyond me, return the feeling. I can only imagine what kind of personal dilemma that has put you in. I apologize for turning your job into a circle of hell even before Thawne joined the squad.

EDDIE: Hey!

JOE: [opens his mouth as if to reply but thinks better of it and simply nods]

SNART: Speaking of Thawne… [grimaces when as turns towards Eddie]

EDDIE: [grins brightly]

SNART: [speaks in a fast and neutral tone] I am sorry for constantly underestimating you and calling you stupid. [lifts his eyes to the ceiling as he sighs] For that matter, I apologize for all the insults I have directed at any of you.

LINDA: Aw, you’re not gonna list them individually?

RONNIE: Stop, if he does that, he’ll only add a thousand more while talking.

SNART: [looks like he’s fighting with himself whether to snap or not]

CAITLIN: Thank you, Snart!

SNART: I’m not finished. I’d like to apologize to everyone for my behaviour at the beginning of the year, too. My being upset was no reason to be lashing out like that, least of all at you, Bar--

BAR: [takes his hand] You already apologized. A lot.

SNART: I know. Can’t be enough, though. I’m sorry I made you all worry about me and didn’t even thank you guys for that. [looks a bit awkward] Also, uh… Generally, I’d like to apologize to Lisa for being a shit brother and assuming things about her relationship rather than to believe her. And sorry to Mick for being a shit roomie. [lets out a breath] Okay, now I’m finished.

HARTLEY: Hey guys, do you think if we just stay silent for a while, he’ll start again? 

SNART: I take back what I said about you earlier. You disgust me.

LINDA: You’re not allowed to be mean! [frowns] Or are you? 

MICK: Think he is if he apologizes right away.

SARA: That’s how I live my life every day.

IRIS: Since when do you apologize? 

SARA: [flips her the bird] Rude.

JOE: [looks like he’s regretting hosting this whole thing] Lisa, why don’t you just carry on?

LISA: [grins] Sure thing! 

CISCO: Wait, does Lisa even know how to feel bad about something?

LISA: You know, I could see that as a compliment, but you’re kinda right…

RONNIE: Of course he is.

LISA: But… Oh, I know something!

SNART: Are you gonna apologize for driving me insane? 

LISA: [pats his cheek] You don’t need me for that. [turns away from him] Anyway, I wanna apologize to Hartley! 

HARTLEY: Wait, what?

SARA: That’s a plottwist.

JOE: Wait, what’ve Hart and Lisa to do with each other?

IRIS: They lived together, dad.

JOE: Oh, right. [gestures for Lisa to continue]

LISA: Well, I’ve been kind of an ass to you when I first moved into the Quiver, so… Sorry for that, I guess.

BAR: Oh yeah. Remember when Lisa had that weird crush on Cisco?

LISA: It wasn’t a crush! I just thought he was cute. And Hart was being awful about his crush.

SARA: We should turn this into a drinking game. Take a shot if you find Cisco cute.

CISCO: [blushes] Aaaand everyone stays sober.

CAITLIN: Sara, you drink too much.

SARA: If I drink too much, what’s Mick doing?

IRIS: Cisco, you underestimate how cute you are.

JOE: Lisa, were you finished?

LISA: Well, I guess I’m just gonna throw one out and apologize to Lenny and Mick for being a brat.

MICK: Damn right ya are.

LISA: [brightly] Now I’m finished!

EDDIE: Oh, it’s Mick’s turn! [laughs]

SNART: Mick has no regrets.

MICK: Nah, I regret not keepin’ ya in line.

SNART: [opens his mouth in surprise]

MICK: [turns to Joe] Sorry for that, Detective.

EVERYONE: [laughs]

SARA: [still laughing] Oh my God, you legend.

RONNIE: What did we expect?

LINDA: Okay, my turn!

THE DOORBELL: [rings]

BAR: Oh, that’s probably Oliver! [gets up from their seat]

CISCO: [to Hartley] Do you think they already ate?

HARTLEY: You can handle a few minutes without eating, you know.

RONNIE: [quietly] Please, you know exactly that he can’t.

IRIS: Can someone toss me the orange juice? 

WALLY: [throws it at her]

IRIS: I said TOSS, you idiot!

JOE: Hey, be nice.

LINDA: Damn, now I feel like I need to come up with something good to make up for the suspense.

SARA: You’re literally our wordsmith.

HARTLEY: No, that’s Mick.

EDDIE: I thought Iris?

IRIS: [chokes on her drink] No, uh… my writing is, uh. It’s garbage.

CAITLIN: [gasps] What? I’m sure it’s not!

RONNIE: Hasn’t Bar read it? We should ask them what they think.

JOE: That novel thing that stressed you so much? You really didn’t seem happy with it. 

IRIS: [carefully] It wasn’t--

EDDIE: People are their own worst critics, right?

SNART: Stop bugging her about it, she won’t tell you what it’s about.

CISCO: Isn’t it about--

BAR: [enters the room] Look who’s here! [gestures behind them]

LINDA: Oliver!

SARA: Felicity, my girl!

OLIVER: [sounding slightly out of breath] Hey, guys!

EVERYONE: [gives variants of greeting]

FELICITY: [brightly] Shalom!

SNART: [on reflex] Shalom aleichem.

JOE: [takes in Felicity’s wheelchair] Damn, Bar, why didn’t you tell them to use the back door? [addresses Felicity] Sorry for the stairs.

FELICITY: Oh, that’s okay.

OLIVER: [mouths] We could’ve avoided the stairs?

HARTLEY: Come on in, we’re just going around to say what we’re sorry for.

FELICITY: And I thought I travelled back in time to an ancient Pesach feast with the way you’re seated here.

BAR: [grimaces]

WALLY: You aren’t allowed to mention the T thing in this house.

FELICITY: What, time travel?

OLIVER: [puts a hand on her shoulder] You really shouldn’t. Bar can’t handle it.

BAR: It never makes sense!

SARA: Felicity, come on, we’ll squeeze you in here.

FELICITY: I hope you won’t mind if I stay in the chair, though--

EDDIE: We’ll just look up to you, as always.

OLIVER: As you should. [steps over to sit between Felicity, who is taking her space at the same moment, and Hartley]

BAR: [sits back down between Snart and Caitlin]

LINDA: Okay, okay. It was my turn, by the way.

IRIS: Yeah, you missed the criminals, sadly.

HARTLEY: Knowing Oliver he’s happy about it.

OLIVER: Would Snart have apologized for making me paranoid? 

SNART: Maybe I would have. Too late now.

RONNIE: Aw, are these the only apologies we're getting from you?

MICK: Ain’t even started. [lifts beer to his mouth]

SNART: [punches him in the arm]

JOE: [opens his mouth]

LINDA: OKAY! My turn!

FELICITY: I’m a little surprised Snart’s already finished.

SNART: [mouths] You, too?

LINDA: [loudly] I want to apologize to everyone whose privacy I did not respect--

CISCO: You’re apologizing to the whole world?!

LINDA: Screw you!

JOE: Language.

LINDA: Sorry, Joe. [pats his arm] Anyway, I’d like to apologize to everyone I creeped out by barging into their personal space. I’m also sorry for endangering Iris’ job those… five times. I’m also sorry for finishing the ham in Mick’s fridge.

SNART: YOU ate the ham?

LINDA: Uh, yeah?

HARTLEY: Why do you care about the ham, Snart?

SNART: Mick thought I finished it!

CAITLIN: But… you’re a vegetarian.

MICK: Fun to rile him up.

LISA: Wait, I thought you fought about the ham I finished.

IRIS: Damn, do you guys fight about ham all the time?

MICK: Pretty much.

LINDA: Anyway, that’s pretty much about it!

WALLY: You... don’t feel guilty for basically living here?

LINDA: Should I?

HARTLEY: Absolutely not.

LINDA: See? Hartley gets me.

JOE: You know you’re welcome any time. [louder, into the room] All of you.

BAR: Don’t say that! They take that literally!

OLIVER: You can always crash at the Quiver again when you feel overwhelmed.

CISCO: Sure, let them flee from their own home.

JOE: Bar, be nice.

BAR: I didn’t even say--!

JOE: It’s my turn now. Be quiet, kids.

RONNIE: [quietly to Cisco] Isn't the Detective basically a saint?

CISCO: [whispers] No, don’t you remember when--

OLIVER: [leans past Hartley to nudge him in the arm]

LINDA: Thanks, Ollie!

JOE: [nods] Yes, thank you. So… [clears his throat] First, I wanna apologize to my kids for having been such a--

BAR: Chaperone?

WALLY: Watchdog?

IRIS: Stalker?

JOE: [glares] Overbearing parent. I greatly overstepped and I’m glad y’all had Linda point that out to me.

LINDA: [bows]

JOE: I also wanna apologize to Rory and Snart for not trusting them a couple of times even when I not only swore to do better but also knew better. 

MICK: Sure ‘bout that?

LISA: Don’t make him arrest you again.

JOE: And I wanna apologize once more to Bar, for the times I misgendered them--

BAR: I told you, it’s--

JOE: It’s not okay. I’ll try to do better. And I’m sorry for being so weird about you dating two people, Wally.

WALLY: [shrugs, but grins]

RONNIE: We love polyamory!

LISA: [lifts her glass]

JOE: Anyway, I’m finished.

LINDA: Nothing for me?

HARTLEY: Joe has never wronged you, ever.

EDDIE: Exactly, Lin.

IRIS: Did you just--

CISCO: Hi, my name is Lin Miranda! I know you don’t know who I am but I wore these pants--

OLIVER: [nudges him again]

HARTLEY: Hey, that was a work of art!

SNART: I can assure you it wasn’t.

CISCO: Now that’s just rude.

FELICITY: Wow, you guys really don’t understand how Yom Kippur works.

WALLY: It was sold to us as ‘Reverse Thanksgiving’.

FELICITY: [glares at Snart] It was what?

SNART: [raises his hands in defense] I am self-taught.

LISA: [nods solemnly] He really is. 

LINDA: Damn, I can’t believe you really passed on roasting your brother.

LISA: The festive spirit got to me.

FELICITY: [mouths] The--

OLIVER: [puts a hand on her thigh] Just go with it.

JOE: Iris, baby, it’s your turn, so please--

IRIS: Sure, that’s easy. I apologize to you! For that whole keeping this group a secret thing. [looks pleased with herself]

HARTLEY: You know, I’m really trying to call you out for something else, but there’s--

EDDIE: Absolutely nothing. You did perfectly, Iris. Amen!

CAITLIN: Are you even allowed to say 'Amen'?

RONNIE: Sara, are you allowed to say 'Amen' on a Jewish holiday?

SARA: There’s two and a half Jewish people here and you ask me?

CISCO: Gotta put that degree to good use.

SARA: I literally focus on Indian Religions--

FELICITY: You know what? Say 'Amen' if you feel like it. I don’t think there’s any rules about that, but if there were, you’d ignore them anyways.

MICK: [nods] Hell yeah.

JOE: [sounds exasperated] Wally, it's your turn.

WALLY: Oh, sure! So, uh. Obviously, same as Iris - sorry for lying to you, dad. [talks faster with every word] Also, Bar, I'm sorry for trying to steal your ancient copy of the first Dragonball manga, though I really think you should learn to share, man. I also wanna apologize to Hartley for insulting his clothes that one time before I realized your whole backstory and now I'm really sorry towards everyone but can we please eat while we talk? I am dying! [leans forward so his forehead touches the ground]

RONNIE: Jesus–

HARTLEY: Thank you? I think? I only understood half of that.

LISA: Can you teach me how to talk this fast? That would really save me some time in my life.

WALLY: [doesn't lift his head] Screw you, you always bully my writing.

IRIS: Because a person literally cannot make out what you’re trying to say.

CAITLIN: Wait, did you just transfer your unintelligible typing style into audio?

CISCO: Hey, I actually second that part about the food. I am starving.

BAR: God, same.

SARA: Cisco has an excuse for his hunger, but what is yours?

BAR: I am a jock nowadays. I need nutrition.

MICK: Point.

SNART: If it makes y'all stop being annoying, I vote you can dive in if you're hungry.

BAR: [smiles at him] My hero.

EDDIE: There goes the rest of his rep.

WALLY: Hell yeah! [grabs a plate of kugl in front of him]

CISCO: Finally. 

HARTLEY: If you overeat and get sick, I won't be taking care of you.

CISCO: [shrugs] I have Cait for that.

CAITLIN: Actually– Yeah.

RONNIE: Cait, be strong.

FELICITY: Sara, I guess it is your turn?

SARA: Oh, yeah. If your clattering could be a tad more quiet, thank you.

LISA: I am on the edge of my seat.

MICK: Ya sittin’ on the ground.

LISA: Metaphorically speaking.

SNART: You don't even know what a metaphor is.

BAR: [in-between bites] Guys.

SARA: Thanks, Bar. Anyway… I have no regrets. [smiles]

IRIS: You–

SARA: No regrets.

LINDA: Just love?

HARTLEY: Nice one.

JOE: You don't want to apologize for anything?

SARA: Well, I would apologize to you, but it's not like we've actually known each other–

OLIVER: I can list off a few things you can be sorry for.

RONNIE: Damn, should we have taken the time when Snart apologized?

CISCO: What, this is a competition?

LINDA: [grabs a muffin] Sara, you are a queen.

SARA: Thanks! [punches Eddie's arm] Your turn.

EDDIE: [swallows, and then quietly] Shit.

EVERYONE: Language! [most of them laugh]

EDDIE: [sighs] Well, obviously I also apologize to Joe for lying to him– and the way it made me a shit partner for quite a while.

JOE: [snorts] Yeah, thanks.

EDDIE: Also sorry to Bar and Snart for having been so… um, weird about their relationship at the start, basically. And Sara for pouring coffee over her yoga mat!

SARA: Wait, that was you? I ripped Tommy a new one!

EDDIE: I also hadn't meant to live off Oliver's money for as long as I did, so sorry for that. And to Lisa when I entered the bathroom after she showered that one time. And, oh, generally, sorry for stealing Hartley, I guess!

OLIVER: I am literally a billionaire–

WALLY: We know.

CISCO: Wait, Eddie, did you just–

SNART: You did what?! [looks at Lisa] He did what?

LISA: Relax, you jerk. He closed his eyes as soon as he realized and I threw a shampoo bottle at his head.

SARA: Man, you should've not mentioned that, Eddie.

EDDIE: I do regret it now. [buries his face in his hands]

BAR: [puts a hand on Snart's knee, talking softly] Come on, babe, he apologized.

SNART: [mutters inaudibly]

MICK: Stop actin’ like Lise's still a toddler, you– [looks at Joe and stops]

JOE: [looks at the ceiling]

FELICITY: [overtly cheerfully] Well, I guess it's my turn! Again. Since I already went through this, like, um. Properly? I'll just apologize to Sara for not telling her about my proposal plans.

SARA: [lifts her drink] As long as I get to plan the hen night.

OLIVER: Hey, I thought you'd be in my wedding party!

HARTLEY: [looks from Oliver to Felicity] You two have too many friends in common.

RONNIE: Who of you gets Dig?

OLIVER: Me.

FELICITY: [simultaneously] Me.

IRIS: Will you pay him, Ollie?

OLIVER: [shocked] Et tu, Iris?

JOE: Please promise you actually collaborate on the wedding planning.

FELICITY: Of course! [puts her hand on Oliver's shoulder] Your turn, honey.

OLIVER: Alright. I, uh, I want to apologize to all of you for being so freaked out about my bachelor paper. And, I guess, to Snart and Mick for distrusting them so much at the start.

EVERYONE: [looks at Snart]

SNART: What?

FELICITY: I suppose that’s the part where you say thanks.

CISCO: More that he wasn’t so wrong about being freaked out.

SARA: He wouldn’t make that joke in front of the Detective.

OLIVER: So it is a joke?

JOE: [mumbles] Sure hope it is.

SNART: Of course! Not particularly funny, I’ll admit.

MICK: [fakes a cough] Whipped.

SNART: [presses his lips together and glares at Mick]

HARTLEY: Okay! I think I’ll continue then!

RONNIE: Suave, Hart.

HARTLEY: One of my talents. [louder] Um, I guess I wanna apologize for all the times I didn’t realize how loud my music was and drove the rest of the Quiver crazy--

JOE: The Quiver?

IRIS: Oliver’s house, dad.

HARTLEY: And for letting my mood swings get the best of me, even when I know it’s not the fault of any of you guys. And in a similar manner, sorry Cisco, for being a shitty boyfriend.

CISCO: [takes his hand] You’re not a shitty boyfriend.

RONNIE: Yeah, I heard you are quite good at that.

FELICITY: Didn’t you use to date Cisco--

HARTLEY: [with a sly grin] Sorry for that, too, by the way. 

RONNIE: That doesn’t mean I can’t be supportive!

LISA: Y’all’s family tree is a circle.

EDDIE: Exactly what I’ve been saying!

OLIVER: Oh, you shut up.

CISCO: Well, I am also apologizing to Ronnie for breaking up with xem! Especially via phone, that probably could’ve been done better.

RONNIE: When you say it like that…

CISCO: [a bit more quietly] I also wanna say sorry to you, Hart, for not knowing how to handle you sometimes. [squeezes his hand before addressing the room again] And I feel bad about letting Bar run into reading a time loop fic that one time without warning them. At least I helped you make sense of it.

BAR: Yeah, time loops aren’t the worst, I suppose.

CISCO: And, since we embrace religious diversity here, I also wanna apologize to God for using His name in vain. [crosses himself]

WALLY: Dang, what’s happening now?

SARA: [looks very pleased]

RONNIE: Man, you can’t just apologize to God ! Now you’re making us all look stupid.

CISCO: Not my fault most of y’all are gonna end up in hell. [grins]

MICK: Nice down there.

LINDA: [fakes a gasp] You’ve already been? Without me?!

JOE: [despite himself, laughs]

EVERYONE: [chuckles awkwardly]

RONNIE: Okay, I’ll try… I, uh, I guess I should apologize to Linda for driving her crazy.

LINDA: [nods seriously]

SNART: But?

RONNIE: Huh?

IRIS: You said ‘should’.

RONNIE: Ah! Well… [grins] I kinda enjoy being the only secret Linda can’t unwrap.

LINDA: Hey!

JOE: You are what?

BAR: Yeah, it’s a whole thing. We’ll tell you later.

RONNIE: [looks quite proud]

CAITLIN: Oh, I would like to apologize to Linda, though!

LINDA: For letting Ronnie drive me crazy?

CAITLIN: Uh… No. I have nothing to do with that. I’m sorry I broke your file the other day.

LINDA: [surprised] Oh, Cait! That one was cheap as fu--

JOE: Language.

LINDA: … Very cheap.

CAITLIN: Cisco, I am also sorry I forgot your goodnight text once. And I would say I’m sorry for annoying Mick about his health so much, but I’m actually not.

MICK: [grunts]

IRIS: You send Cisco goodnight texts?

CAITLIN: It helps him sleep!

EDDIE: Cisco is literally an insomniac.

CISCO: I thought you sent those to everyone?!

HARTLEY: Uh… no.

BAR: No! [looks a bit sad]

CAITLIN: Oh, do you all want one?

SNART: Please don’t.

LINDA: I mean… It’d be cute.

LISA: Oh, I want one!

CAITLIN: [nods] Okay, okay.

FELICITY: [laughs softly] Man, I officially love this group.

OLIVER: [beams at her]

RONNIE: Does that mean you didn’t love us before?

SARA: Oh, Felicity loves everyone! [grins]

FELICITY: [confused] I don’t--

JOE: Bar, can you please wrap this up?

BAR: Oh! Oh damn. [fidgets with their hands]

SNART: [puts a hand on their back]

CISCO: Hey Bar, before you start. We know your anxiety can get the best of you sometimes, but, uh--

EDDIE: Don’t feel like you have to apologize for everything that’s ever happened this year.

EVERYONE: [mumbles some kind of agreement]

JOE: [looks around as if he saw everyone for the first time, especially Eddie]

BAR: I wasn’t--!

IRIS: Bar.

BAR: Okay, fine. [swallows] Um, obviously, I want to say sorry, Joe, for having lied to you. It really wasn’t okay and we should’ve come clean way sooner. And uh, sorry, Iris, for--

IRIS: [confused]

BAR: For not getting that one thing sooner.

IRIS: [wide-eyed, hissing] Really not the time!

SNART: [chuckles]

BAR: [shocked] Oh, shit! Sorry, I didn’t-- Um, anyway!

EVERYONE: [confused]

CAITLIN: … Language?

HARTLEY: [leans over] What’s that about?

RONNIE: [shrugs] I don’t know. Sibling stuff?

CISCO: [snorts] You don’t apologize to siblings.

BAR: Len, I’m sorry for our fight. I know you feel like it was only you who screwed up, but I should have realized something was up long before I did. I should have also looked more into what was going on when we had that fight and I’m sorry it took until it escalated.

SNART: [opens his mouth]

BAR: No, you’re not allowed to argue.

SNART: [looks like he wants to argue but lets his hand move up to the back of their neck and squeezes there softly]

MICK: Whipped.

BAR: [looks at him] Oh, I also wanna apologize to you! Sorry you had to go through Len’s pining.

EVERYONE: [laughs]

SNART: [actually looks a bit embarrassed]

MICK: Thanks.

BAR: Also sorry to Hartley for saying Hänschen Rilow isn’t that great a character. I was scared of you after that rant.

HARTLEY: [looks pleased] Good. Just because he isn’t a good person, it doesn’t mean he’s not a good character.

CISCO: Babe, have some bread before you launch into another rant. [practically shoves a slice into his mouth]

BAR: Um, yeah! And basically my apologies for everyone for randomly disappearing so often.

OLIVER: Bar, it's not your fault when you get overwhelmed. 

BAR: [shrugs] I still could've warned you. Anyway, yeah, I think that's about it.

SNART: [pulls them closer by the neck and presses a kiss against their temple]

LINDA: [throws a fry at them] Stop being cute! That's lesbophobic!

SNART: [already leaned back] Oh, shut up, Park.

JOE: [looks from one to the other] Okay, before this escalates… Everyone done? Because, uh, then we can properly dig in, right? [looks at Felicity]

FELICITY: [shrugs] Your rules. Though I gotta say I'm kinda curious about Snart's Chanukkah. Do you just set the whole Menorah aflame?

LISA: That did happen once.

OLIVER: [squints] Mick?

MICK: [chuckles]

RONNIE: I can't believe how easily Felicity talks back at Snart.

SARA: She takes her faith seriously.

CISCO: Why do I feel like this was a jab at me?

EDDIE: Not being scared of Snart is a Jewish superpower.

SNART: [smirks] So you admit that you're scared of me?

LISA: Um, excuse you, neither Mick nor I are Jewish and we're most definitely not scared of Lenny.

WALLY: How is he Jewish and you aren't? 

LISA: Different mothers.

WALLY: Ah.

BAR: Can we properly eat now?

IRIS: Yeah, I'm also getting hungry.

JOE: [looks at Snart]

SNART: [shrugs]

JOE: [sighs] Yeah, y'all can eat.

CISCO: Nice!

OLIVER: [to Felicity] Honey, what do you want?

LINDA: Can someone pass me those potato pancakes?

SNART: They're called latkes.

LINDA: Thank you for your wisdom.

IRIS: [mutters] Hey dad, do you still want those people to hang around more often?

JOE: [visibly lying] You know, I begin to regret that offer.

IRIS: [looking happy] Figured.

Chapter Text

Iris rarely gets nervous. She knows her place in the world and she knows how to fill it and what people expect from her. Her dad's joked a lot about how she's the polar opposite of Bar - well, she thinks the role belongs more to Wally, though at times he can also be a lot to handle. Maybe the West Kids are a spectrum. She knows how to be a bit concerned about exams and, like, job interviews, of course, but usually she doesn't freak out about meeting friends (but she knows it's an option because she's seen what an anxiety disorder can mean). 

Because that's what this is. Or at least, how it's starting. She's more concerned about how it's gonna end, to be honest.

And maybe she should have chosen a different location. Big Belly's is everyone's favourite for a reason, yeah, but somehow it feels… unfitting. She'd thought about meeting at Jitters, but if this turns into something humiliating she'd rather not have a co-worker present. 

So now she’s sitting here while people chat around her, holding on to what she’d ordered. She’d gotten a caramel milkshake for herself, even though she probably won’t drink any of it, and Eddie’s go-to menu (which she only knows because he once spent an entire evening going off on Ronnie when xe had asked him if he isn’t keeping a diet; she is not a stalker).  

Because she’s meeting Eddie. To tell him--

Either he finds her table much too quickly or Iris has been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed him entering. Whatever the reason, he’s standing in front of her way too soon, with that big grin of his and windswept hair, as if he had hurried to get here.

Iris wonders if he and Hartley ever actually buy groceries or if they live on air and junkfood. 

“Glad you could make it,” she says instead, almost on reflex. The thing is, though, that a part of her actually means it: She doesn’t think she’d muster this kind of courage another time, so it’s good he doesn’t leave her hanging. Save her some anxiety.

“Sure!” Eddie says brightly, looking around. “Nobody else around? Because, uh, I thought we’re legally not allowed to leave supervision or something…” He jokes easily, giving her a shrug as he sits down. 

Iris feels like squirming under his glance because… Well, because pretty much everyone acted like that, yeah. As if they couldn’t keep it in their pants for just a moment. The last couple of months have shown just how well Iris is in charge over her behaviour when it comes to Eddie, if you ask her, but it’s not like anyone would know. Except Snart, maybe, but she’d rather not discuss that topic with him again . 

Eddie raises an eyebrow when she shoves the food towards him. “Thanks, but, uh… You don’t have anything?” He prompts.

While Iris thinks of an excuse for that, she discovers that she won’t get out of that one: She was the one who asked if he wanted to meet here. No way he’d buy it if she said she’s not hungry or something.  So… time for the truth. “I, uh, I actually need to talk to you,” she manages to say after a beat. Her heart feels like it’s gonna jump out of her throat, but for some reason, she also feels… kind of relieved now that she’s started.

For a second, she can see something like concern or fear in Eddie’s face, but then it vanishes. Instead, he tilts his head just a little bit, in a way that’s almost adorable, indicating that he’s all ears.

And… fuck . She’d thought about what to say a thousand times, but suddenly it’s all gone from her brain. Maybe that’s just what happens when you repress your feelings for months in the hopes that they’ll disappear. You’d think her studying would tell her something about that but no.

“Okay, I’ll just come out with it,” she finally declares, drawing in a deep breath. She doesn’t look at Eddie as she continues, but looks at a spot behind him. She doesn’t want him to think she’s a chicken. “I, um… I like you, Eddie. Like… really like you. Done so for a while.” She pauses, involuntarily, because shit , it’s out now. “And I know it means trouble and that it’s fucking weird and I shouldn’t but… yeah, it’s-- A thing ,” she closes, kind of feeling like she’d run a marathon.

When her eyes snap back into focus, she finds Eddie staring at her with his mouth open. He does manage to blink, at least. “You-- Iris… I’m--”

“No, stop.” Iris cuts in, lifting a hand. “I-- I know this is kind of sudden--” (For him, at least.) “--and that-- Well, our situation isn’t the best, given that you work with my dad but-- I need you to think about it, okay? Because if I do have a shot but you make it a spur-of-the-moment thing to say no , I won’t even send Sara after you; I’ll kill you myself .” She didn’t plan to utter that threat, but now that it’s out… Maybe she actually means it.

Eddie’s managed to close his mouth by now, which means the way he swallows at her words is pretty visible. “That’s, um-- Thank you …?”

That could have gone worse, truth be told. She’d pictured a few negative reactions for a long time. Eddie could’ve stormed off or plainly told her ‘ Fuck no ,’ but so far he hasn’t done neither, which is very good in her book.

Iris nods, satisfied with herself. She plays a bit with her milkshake, though, thinking about how to carry on. Then she decides to just get on with it - it's worked so far. "I mean, I would appreciate getting an answer when I come back from the trip--"

“Right,” Eddie says, and now he starts fumbling with his straw, too. “The trip. It’s-- Uh, so what about Bruce?”

Iris shrugs. “Nothing. I mean, everything . He’s on my list, so it’s not like I’d bail on him for you, no offense.”

It makes Eddie laugh, though just for a second. Then he furrows his brows. “Wait, what list?”

“The list of people I’d cheat on you with,” Iris elaborates. There’s actually not really a list, and she doesn’t approve of cheating , but… If you have the chance to hook up with Gotham’s Knight, you take it. 

Eddie catches up on her joke, judging by the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Woah, hang on. We’re not even dating and you’re already thinking of cheating?”

“You know how it is,” Iris says. And now that the mood is lighter, she reaches for a fry from Eddie’s plate before she gets up. “Anyway, I, uh-- I better get going because… again, no offense, but it’s really fucking weird to just sit here now.”

For a moment, she expects Eddie to ask just why . He can be a little dumb sometimes, especially when it comes to being tactful. But he surprises her by giving her a firm nod. “I-- yeah, I get that. So, you… want me to think about it? And tell you when you’re back?”

“ Please .”

“Got it,” Eddie nods again. “And what about the groupchat?”

She hadn’t even thought about it. Which doesn’t even make sense, given that most of their interactions have been in that fucking chat. “I don’t know,” she admits. “Just act normal, I guess?”

“Okay. Cool. Gotcha,” he repeats. “Well, then… Thanks for telling me? And, uh… Have a good trip. And, you know, Bruce .”

“Eddie.”

He raises his hands in innocence. “Just saying. Also, I kind of don’t know the protocol here.”

“Neither do I,” Iris says with a sigh. Then she brushes her hand over his shoulder as she passes him. “I’ll go now. God , this is horrible. Bye.”

She leaves without letting him reply. It’s not the answer she’ll be waiting for anyways.

Chapter Text

"Shouldn't you say something about him lying back there like that?" Cisco wants to know, jabbing a thumb out to the backseat where Mick is sprawled out.

Eddie shoots a look at the mirror, taking in the way Mick's arranged his body in a way that can't possibly be comfortable. He does look fast asleep, though, or at least very much pretending to be so, so maybe it works. "I'm a good driver," he assures Cisco.

"Yeah, but you're also a cop ."

Eddie can't help but let out a chuckle at that. "Thank you for reminding me," he jokes. "See, if someone should stop us while we cross the single bridge between Central and Key, I can talk us out of it."

Cisco snorts, clearly not believing it. 

"Come on, you know Mick didn't get much sleep last night," Eddie says. "Let him squeeze in a nap."

"You know he's not gonna sleep with you, right?" Cisco wants to know. From the corner of his eye, Eddie can actually see him squinting at him. He supposes that's one of the reasons why he and Hartley fit together so well: theatrics.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Can't I be nice just because?"

"With your record?" Cisco grins. "Nah."

"That's rude. I'll have you know I am a very nice person, regardless of hook-ups," Eddie retorts. "You can ask my mom about it!"

Cisco raises an eyebrow. "I'm supposed to… ask your mom if you're only nice if you get sex out of it?"

Eddie shrugs. She certainly knows enough about his sex life to comment on that question. One problem with having a teacher for a parent is that she'll eventually hear about all the times another teacher - or student, for that matter - has found you making out around campus. She'd always taken it pretty chill, though, and Eddie's never really hidden anything from her. She'd even been the one to make him consider labelling his sexuality as a whole.

"You're weird, dude," Cisco declares and turns back to the front. It doesn't take too long until he breaks his own moment of silence again. The guy really can't keep still to save his life. "So… Iris and Bruce Wayne, huh?"

"Yup," Eddie makes and presses his lips together. His eyes don't leave the road even once. See? He's a superb driver.

Cisco frowns. "Okay, I've expected a different reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Cisco begins with a shrug. He picks up that little solar bobble head from Eddie's dashboard and fumbles with it. "You practically helped arranging that whole thing so… more excitement?"

"Oh, I am excited," Eddie presses out. "For Ìris. Yeah, of course. She's got this whole list of people she wants to hook up with, you know? Bruce is, like, on top of it. So yeah, that's a dream come true for her. Of course I'm excited."

The words leave his mouth quicker than he wants them to, but that doesn't change their meaning. They're true, of course. Cisco's right, he has had a hand in arranging that; he's given Iris Bruce's number, and all of them had even happily discussed it, though not all at the same time. It was funny, too, kind of being in the middle of that. 

Before Iris left, he'd counted the days with her until she'd go to Gotham. By now he's wondering if he was anxious about it being the final ending of his involvement in that part of Iris' life at long last. Maybe. Now it's more complicated, as it seems.

" O kay," Cisco says slowly, still frowning at him. He mulls it over for a second before saying, "She's got a list like that? Wow. I wouldn't even know who I'd– Well, Wells maybe, but like, I wouldn't– Wait, is it because she's single? I haven't been, like, properly single since–"

" No ," Eddie makes. "I don't think it matters that she's single . Goals are goals."

"Huh. Good for her," Cisco replies. Because of course he does.

Eddie keeps staring ahead.

-

Eddie hasn't been on the passenger seat in a while. Joe lets him drive at work, because he's the rookie after all; something about the elder needing to be quicker with the gun or something like that. Truth be told, Eddie's brain had been too busy being scared of him to be paying attention to what he'd been saying. Now, though, with Mick and Cisco having taken his own car back to Central, he'd made good on asking his mom for a ride back home. He could have taken the train, of course, but it's not like he didn't have an ulterior motive for the whole thing. Not the trip itself, because Lord knows he'd been owing his parents a nice visit for a while now, but for getting his mom to drive him.

He should probably bring it up before they're at his apartment, even if his mom wants to check it out and meet Hartley. Definitely before that happens.

"Mom, I need your advice," he says quickly when she's finished telling him what his old PE teacher's reaction had been to hearing he's passed training at the Police Academy. Old PE teacher meaning the one who'd given bad grades just for his body shape back then. Suck it, Mrs Olovsky.

"Of course you do," his mom answers. Not in a tone that would suggest that she's calling him out (that had been taken care of when he arrived at his childhood home, a task done by his dad in a somewhat passive-aggressive manner) but a happy one, like she's only been waiting to give in her two cents, no matter what it's about.

"It's… about a girl," he says carefully. "Well, more like a woman."

His mom's mouth falls open and she turns to stare at him in surprise. "I'll be damned. Edward, are you settling down ?"

"Will you look at the road, please?!" Eddie helps in return, gesturing at the street.

His mom snorts. "Please, you've become so boring since passing that Academy."

"This isn't me being a cop, it's me wanting to live!" Eddie protests.

"Fine," his mom chuckles. "Tell you what: I look at the road and you tell me all about that crush of yours." She actually follows suit right away, thankfully.

Now that it's out there, it's not like Eddie can take it back, really. "That's the thing," he begins, "I'm, uh, not actually sure if I have a crush on her. I mean, I do like her. A lot. She's awesome , the full package, but I'm not sure…"

" The full package ?" She echoes. "So you slept with her already?"

"Oh yeah," Eddie nods. "A lot, actually." 

His mom just nods along. He loves that they never make a big deal out of his sex life. "Good, just making sure you're not confusing lust for feelings."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, no. I can distinguish those, thanks. I just don't know, if I really… have feelings for her, you know?"

"That's the funny thing about dating: You can try ."

"Yeah, I know," Eddie agrees. "But it's a little more complicated than that." Boy , she has no idea just how complicated. "And… I mean, we haven't hooked up since…"

His mom picks up where he stops. "Since what? Edward Theodore Thawne–" Full name , an unhelpful chorus of voices supplies in his head, You're screwed . "–I swear, if you came in contact with STDs–"

"Seriously? Mom, I've never in my life had sex without a condom, how the fuck–"

"Language."

"Wow. We're literally talking about my sex life and you tell me not to swear?"

"Looks like it," his mom shrugs lightly. She looks way too happy for his liking - he's having a crisis ! "So, anyway. You've slept with this girl. A lot. And then you stopped. Why?"

"Um…" Now Eddie hesitates. "Because her dad's a fellow cop? My… partner, to be precise?"

"Oh. That… changes things." His mom says. "You're scared he'll give you hell if you see his daughter for real?"

"Oh, I know he will," Eddie gulps. He's only just gotten Joe to stop glaring at him at any moment for just knowing his kids, he doesn't even want to know what his reaction would be to hearing he's dating one of them. "He's only just dealt with the fact that I've known his kids for a while, so–"

"He knows you hooked up with his daughter?"

This time, Eddie has to snort again. " Please , he still thinks she's never even had sex."

His mom tuts. "I don't understand families who aren't open like that, do you?"

Eddie shrugs, unsure what to say to that. Usually people find it weird that he and his mom are open like that. Hell , even his dad finds it weird. And that says a lot, considering Eddie'd gotten The Talk after stumbling across a whip of all things in his parents' bedroom. 

"Anyway," Eddie says quickly, shaking that thought. There is a line that has to be drawn. "There's been a whole thing. He'd already been pretty mad when he heard I'd known his kids and didn't tell him for months. I don't even want to imagine the way he'll shoot me when he hears I've hooked up with Iris, too."

"Wait. We're talking about Iris ?" His mom says, a dreamy expression suddenly on her face. "Beautiful, smart, soon to be psychologist Iris?"

"Stop right there. Why do you know Iris?"

His mom shrugs. "I might have stalked her Instagram," she says easily. "And Linda mentioned her a couple of times."

Eddie raises his hand to bury his face in it. He'd know right away that Meloni Thawne and Linda Park are a pairing that should not interact. Too much nosy power right there.

"So… Iris." Now she whistles through her teeth.

"Mom!" Eddie whines, throwing his head back.

"I'm just saying… Could've chosen a worse one to have this breakdown over."

"I don't have a breakdown ." Not exactly, at least.

"Okay, so. If you don't want to tell her father that you've hooked up… Don't ," she suggests.

"You want me to keep lying to my potential…" Girlfriend ? Date ? "To Iris' dad , who is my partner , while I am seeing her ?" He clarifies.

"Well, about the past, at least." He can't believe her. Eddie officially has the worst mom ever. (He knows he doesn't, he lives with Hartley, after all. Shut up.)

"Mom, if we say we've decided to start dating while I'm working with him, Joe will rip me a new one," he says slowly. 

Now she genuinely looks confused. "But… that would literally be what's happening."

Eddie bites back another groan. She just. Doesn't understand. "You're not looking at the big picture!" He says instead. "It's all just super messed up!"

His mom sighs and checks the rearview mirror. Then, probably barely without hitting another car, she moves into another lane. She's turned on the signal, too, as she stops in front of the light.

"Uh… You know you don't have to make a turn here, right?"

"Nah, I do," she says just when the light turns green, and promptly does just that. "Because we're going back to Keystone, grab some Happy Harbor, and then you'll tell me every single detail in chronological order about this mess you're in."

"We're– Happy Harbor?" Is the only thing he manages to say. His mom wants to eat ice cream with him?

"Yeah," she nods. "Because while I actually feel like I need a drink or five, I also have to teach some annoying Freshman about the Cuba Crisis tomorrow, so…"

"And you want me to tell you everything?"

"Everything." 

Eddie hesitates. "You know I've met Iris in October, right?"

" Jesus , Eddie!" His mom bellows, reaching over to punch him. Thankfully the street is empty. "Couldn't you have dropped your problems on me a little earlier?"

"Uh… Sorry? I mean, until a few days ago, I wasn't even aware of it, so–"

"You drive me crazy. Just so you know. I'm not even 50 and my hair's going gray," she replies with a grave sigh.

"You know that gray hair starts happening in your 20s, right?" Eddie wants to know. Not that he's found one, but he's heard Lisa and Sara discuss it. Come to think of it… "Wait until you've heard I lived with the sister of a criminal Joe has arrested for a while."

"You what ?"

"Hey, I mean… Joe's kid is dating that very criminal," Eddie adds, raising his hands in defense. He hates his brain for even going into that direction, for even considering a positive thought about Snart but… if he can deal with Joe's wrath and come out alive, so should Eddie, right?

His mom just shakes her head to herself as they make their way back to Key.

Chapter Text

Iris is going to have a good evening - there's more than enough reason to, she thinks as she throws a rag into the sink. She opens one of the coffee machines and can't even enjoy the intense scent coming from it; standing behind the counter of a café should make her immune to it, but this is the rest of actual beans. It hits differently - still, today she just thinks about how annoying it is to scrub them out of there. But once she's through, she'll go home and, if she knows her family and friends at all, everyone will be there and ready to celebrate with Bar. They probably have already started - she hasn't gotten around to check her phone yet.

She'll have a fun night with everyone and be happy for Bar - which she actually is , of course! She still can't believe it: Henry will be back to freedom, finally proven that he didn't do it. She can't even imagine just how happy Bar must be. This is way more important than anything affecting her mood. Like, much more important.

She takes out the filter and chugs the produced beans into the trash, turning on the water as she moves.

When it starts filling the container she's put into the sink, she hears a loud rattle at the door.

"We're closed!" She yells, trying to summon her best customer voice. "Sorry, you'll have to come back tomorrow!" Normally she doesn't have a problem helping someone to a cup even after closing hours, but today she just wants to get home. 

She closes the tap and carries on, pulling the trash bag out of its place.

There's another rattle and Iris sighs to herself. For a second, she almost feels like this person doesn't want to understand her. Then, after a second, she realizes there's plenty of reasons why they might not be able to. Or plenty of reasons why they're here beyond needing some caffeine.

If they need to use the restroom or just want some water, she'll gladly help out. But she will not turn on the coffee machine again.

"Hang on!" She calls out again, and wishes she could communicate the same thing non-verbally, too. If she didn't work here only for a few months a year  she'd totally campaign for that. She'll mention it to Kendra some time, then they'll figure something out. 

Iris takes the opportunity to push in some of the chairs as she makes her way to the door, quick movements as she walks. And then, while she unlocks the door, she slips into the habit of talking too early again.

"So sorry, but you're a little late," she says. "We're already closed. But if I can help you–"

She stops short when she finally looks up and takes in just who's in front of the door. "Oh, fuck off ," she breathes, moving to shut the door.

"I know, I'm super late," comes the answer, with one of those charming smiles, as if that made everything okay.

Of course it doesn't. "Too late," Iris points out - a whole day , in fact - and pushes his arm away.

From the sounds of it, he must have reached out again but got hit by the wood. "Fuck!" Eddie yells. "That's– that's so not how this was supposed to go!"

Walking back to the counter, Iris wants to laugh. Yeah, same. She'd expected being turned down, of course, and she'd known that it would hurt a lot to face him again. But somehow she'd convinced herself it would be okay. Well, she had imagined there'd be more time and less of a shit show.

They could have dealt with this like adults: she'd laid it all out, making sure they'd both be fine with their option, but he's gone and made a thing out of it. 

A shitty thing.

A fucking hurtful thing.

"Iris, come on," Eddie pleads. "Open up!"

Iris doesn't even give him an answer. It's not like he'd done that either, so… justice or whatever. Payback, maybe. Anyway, she sends another glance towards the door, Eddie's silhouette visible behind the shades, and decides to get back to work. She had a plan for tonight and she won't let it be ruined by that asshole. Plus, sibs before… whatever rhymes with that. 

She's barely picked up the rag again when Eddie knocks again.

Iris pointedly ignores him.

"Jesus," Eddie says, pretty loudly, probably, given how easily she understands him, "that's not how it goes in romcoms!"

That makes Iris freeze. Why would he use romcoms as a measure if he–? But no. Iris shakes her head to herself. Eddie made it very clear that he's not interested like that, or else he'd have tried to meet her deadline. Or reached out, at least.

"Do you want me to get a guitar and play Wonderwall?" Eddie offers. Still very audibly. "Because I've never held a guitar in my hands but I could try!"

The thing is, he also would. If there's one thing Iris knows about Eddie Thawne, it's that he has no shame in the spur of the moment. The last thing she needs is one of the neighbours calling the cops because one of them has lost his mind for some reason and caused noise. God knows his yelling is already bad enough. 

So she stalks back to the door and opens it again. "Jesus Christ," she says for a lack of a better response at Eddie's proud smirk. 

"Hi."

So, naturally, Iris turns around and leaves again. She doesn't want to talk , she just wanted him to be quiet . 

And now she most definitely didn't expect that he'd grab her arm to stop her. "Iris, look, let me–"

"No need," she says, trying to sound nonchalant. She said she would be fine with either rde idiot, so she sure as hell won't let on how much it is affecting her. As she talks, anger does colour her voice, though. "You made it clear enough. No need to explain, Eddie."

"I–I did?" Eddie answers. He still doesn't let go and somehow… somehow he doesn't even look the slightest bit bashful. 

If he gets all happy about how he's glad he doesn't have to spell it out now, Iris will flip out.

"Yeah, sure," she says instead. "Your no-show was a pretty nice display of disinterest."

At that, at last, Eddie's soft smile falls. "Disinte– you think I'm disinterested ?"

"You had, like, a whole week to think about it and then disappeared ." Iris counters automatically. It takes her a moment to realize how baffled Eddie sounds. That makes no sense.

"Iris, I'm– You said I shouldn't reply before you're back!"

"I've been back since last night ."

"Well, I haven't!"

"Because you decided to be a coward and go to Keystone !"

Eddie lets go off her arm finally. Somehow, a part of her wishes he hadn't. "You think I didn't want to see you? I went to Key because of you!"

Iris blinks at him. What the—

" Fuck , this is so not–" Eddie massages the bridge if his nose. He narrows his eyes as he looks at her. "You know, I figured I'd come here, do a big Hollywood worthy speech and we'd kiss, maybe fuck in the restroom–"

He doesn't even blush. There's just that coy flirtatious grin of his and Iris doesn't understand anything any more.

"And instead you're angry at me?" Eddie let's out a helpless laugh.

"You–" Iris stammers. Does that mean–

Eddie reaches out for her again. This time he takes both her hands into his and rubs over them softly. He doesn't look away from her face as he talks. "Iris, Jesus , I'm not disinterested. I'm more interested than I realized , like– Like, you asking me... it kinda made me look back at everything and go, wow , Thawne, this might actually be your dream girl."

Iris can't help but stare at him. "What the fuck," is all she can say. Maybe the words don't hit yet, because the next thing that comes out of her mouth is, "And then you went away ?" 

"I– well, yeah," Eddie shrugs. "I had to– you said it yourself: given our, uh, unique constellation, this wasn't the easiest choice - I mean, not that I think Joe would, like, spread rumours to destroy my career or anything but I do think my comfort at work might be jeopardised when he learns I… I have a thing with his daughter. So, uh, yeah, I might have consulted someone."

It's pretty much everything that Iris has brought up before, he's right. But… "You asked your parents about me?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie ducks his head. "I had meant to ask Dig - you know, he's great at those talks - but he was with Lyla when I tried, so… and I only asked my mom. She's, uh, stalked you on Instagram apparently, because she's friends with Linda, which is kinda crazy when you think–"

"Eddie."

He stops. 

And looks at her.

And Iris cups his face.

And pulls it down to meet hers.

It's not their first kiss, not by far, but it might as well be, because those other times it was fun and hot and didn't mean anything and now it's… now it's serious, and Iris feels hot all over as Eddie's lips and hands are working in sync as if they want to reach every part of her.

It makes her lean back. "What was that about the restroom?" She pants. This should be tacky, but she doesn't care. Only one more week and she won't set foot into it for a while anyways. 

Eddie lets out a sound that's somewhere between a growl and moan, vibrating against her throat as he kisses her there.

"I've got condoms," he says lowly.

“Fuck,” Iris breathes. “I love how you’re just… always prepared for--” She stops short, wondering for just a small moment if the thought of Eddie sleeping with other people shouldn’t have a different reaction on her. Well, they can always discuss that later.

Eddie must have had similar thoughts, though, because when he leans back to get his wallet - all the while still holding her hand - he has this sultry look in his eyes. “You did sleep with Bruce, right?”

“Oh,” Iris makes. “Yeah.” She told him she would, but given his remarks in the chat, when someone mentioned having a list … Maybe she’s blown this already.

To her surprise, Eddie nods matter-of-factly. “Good,” he decides, “I intend to take you apart just like he did.”

Iris can’t stop the small yelp escaping her. That’s fucking hot . “You-- you’d need a bed for that.”

“Huh. Then that’s postponed for now,” he reasons. “Guess tonight I’ll have to get creative,” he adds and pulls her towards the back of the café.

-

Iris has never smoked pot in her life (no way she could keep that from her dad) but she’s pretty sure no high can compete with how she’s feeling right now. Not just because she’s just had the most incredible orgasms, or because she had them at her workplace , but…

She’s holding hands with Eddie, as if they were casually taking a stroll, as if she hadn’t been pining after him for months , because now he’s said he likes her back and they are-- they might be a couple.

She might be dating Eddie.

And he didn’t have to be talking sweet to her as he pressed her against the door of a fucking bathroom stall , his fingers below her wristband, but he had . He’d gone on about the dates they’d go on, how they’ll do the whole cheesy spiel; how they’d fall asleep together, cuddled up as they watch a movie, the way Iris would be his Plus One to the next police function, and-- and it’s been perfect.

Iris couldn’t do much talking, but she’s doing it now. She tells him of the pangs of jealousy she’s felt when the others were all couple-y and how she’d imagined doing all those things with him. 

He apologizes by kissing her knuckles.

This whole thing actually comes pretty close to how Iris had wished this moment would go.

Of course something happens.

“IRIS ANN WEST!” A much too familiar voice bellows in a tone she barely knows. It makes her and Eddie jump apart immediately, but probably still too late. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

The car stops right next to her and Iris can’t even turn to look whether Eddie has already morphed into a part of the wall. 

“I-- Dad!” She tries, only to be cut off.

“You better get your ass into this car right this second, or so help me God.” She’s never heard her dad’s voice this dangerously low. It’s like she had no power over her body.

She’s on the passenger seat in seconds. “Dad, I can explain--” She begins, because there’s no way to get out of this. Not when Eddie’s still on the sidewalk, frozen on the spot and very visible. 

“ Not a word ,” her dad growls and starts the engine again. He starts driving, probably too fast, and carries on. “You-- Bar’s been freaking out the whole night about not being able to reach you and you--”

That doesn’t make sense . Bar’d come to Jitters right after their talk with Singh and Cecile and they’d been so happy . They’d gotten the best news possible, so why-- She feels guilty, because she had forgotten about it for a bit, too caught up in her own luck and-- Still. It’s not the first time she’s stayed out longer after work.

“They-- What happened?” She presses out.

Her dad still looks pretty pissed, but the concern about Bar wins the round. It makes Iris feel even worse, because it must be huge . This time, his voice is softer. “They tell you about--”

“I know about Henry,” Iris says immediately. A bit snappy - her dad didn’t think she’d lied about work and been out with Eddie the whole day , did he? “But--”

“Guess even good news can be overwhelming,” her dad answers. He stays silent for a second, before sighing. “Let’s-- let’s focus on them tonight. We’ll talk about what the hell that was--”

“Tomorrow,” Iris suggests. Then she regrets it, because that probably means she won’t be able to discuss it with Eddie first. Still, she doesn’t want to imagine her dad’s reaction if she scheduled this conversation for, let’s say, next week.

“Tomorrow,” comes the agreement.

Iris bites back the urge to gulp. She supposes sleep will be off the table for this night.

Chapter Text

WhatsApp Group: The Quiver

October 21 2018

Tommy: Guys

Tommy: the year is

almost over

Sara: it is the middle

of October

Lisa: !!!!

Lisa: are we talking

about Halloween

costumes

Lisa: I know lenny

and bar are dressing

up as something funny

that annoys my brother

💕

Laurel: You do love to

see him suffer, don't

you?

Lisa: obviously ❤

hartmon are going

as those scientists

from Pacific rim

Sara: that explains

why cisco asked for

wig brand

recommendations

Lisa: ohhhh cisco is

gonna be the cute

one??

Dig: Makes sense for

Hartley to be the

grumpy disabled guy.

tru

Tommy: help I am

surrounded by nerds

Sara: you and me both

Tommy: I was NOT

speaking of halloween

Lisa: oh

Lisa: we should be

talking about

Halloween tho

why?

yall come to

verdant and

get smashed

Tommy: ^

Laurel: Babe, why did

you summon us?

Tommy: Laurel is the

only one who respects

me n thats why im

dating her

hey

Sara: which of those

two made you say hey

Lisa: ollie wants tommy

to date him confirmed 

 ffs shut up

Dig: Never forget.

ET TU???

Tommy: ANYWAY

Tommy: though its fine

if youre jealous ollie xx

Tommy: before the year

ends we need to settle

on which pic of my

calendar to enlarge

I WILL strangle u

Sara: what the fuck

are you talking about

merlyn

Laurel: Your calendar

that you specifically

put inside your

wardrobe because it

"is creepy when he

watches you like that"?

Lisa: HDJFHFHF THE

EDDIE CALENDAR????

Sara: you want to enlarge

a sexy pic of EDDIE???

FOR WHAT

anyone else

catching a

gay vibe

Tommy: in your dreams :*

Tommy: this is payback.

once its on the wall and

he comes here he'll be

so embarrassed

Sara: have you MET

eddie

Sara: hell be obsessed

Laurel: Babe.

Laurel: Just where did

you plan to place

that picture then?

Tommy: living room ofc

I will NOT put

a sexy pic of

EDDIE THAWNE

into my LIVING

ROOM

Lisa: I vote we do it

this is no time

for a voting

Sara: I can't believe I

live in a dictatorship

Sara: we always vote!!!!!

Sara: we should vote!!!!!

Laurel: Who wants to

put an enlarged picture

of Eddie into the living

room?

Tommy: me obviously

Lisa: ME

your brother

WILL kill you

Sara: meee

Laurel: Who is against

it?

ME

Dig: Me.

Laurel: And me, obviously.

Dig: We are six people.

We didn't think this

through.

Lisa: if only there was

someone else who has

a saying in this house

because they practically

live here

you asked

felicity and

lyla????

Lisa: fuck no I don't

have their numbers

Lisa: also no offense

I forgot lyla existed

Dig: She'll be glad to

hear that, actually.

Tommy: tf did you do

Lisa: [image attached]

Sara: HDKFHRJRJR

you did NOT

ask my BABY

SISTER about

Eddie's sexy

pics

Tommy: YES MY

FAVOURITE SIBLING

COMING THROUGH

Laurel: She's your only

sibling.

what about

me :(

Sara: im glad we're

talking about eddie

bc if he were here

he'd make an incest

joke

Tommy: CAN WE

EMBARRASS HIM

CAN WE EMBARRASS

HIM CAN WE

EMBARRASS HIM

Sara: embarrassing him

won't work

what's not clicking

just HOW sexy

are those pics

even

Laurel: Oh, they're fire.

Sara: 👀

Lisa: 👀

👀

Laurel: What? Iris did a

fine job in taking them.

Sara: and that before

they even dated pfff

Dig: Yeah, how's *that*

even going?

pretty well

they're still not

sure whether to

stay exclusive

but linda did drop

a bunch of

pamphlets about

open relationships

on the detective's

desk

Lisa: I can also tell

him about open

relationships :((

Sara: to clarify linda

placed them there

under the pretense

of them being for

eddie's safe space

initiative

Sara: she didnt just

go to Joe and say

"lemme tell u about

open relationships.

What? Nah nah for

no reason at all"

Lisa: I can be subtle!!!!

Tommy: can u

Lisa: yes??? I'm a snart

good point

Tommy: I have an offer

Tommy: we all agree

on the tamest pic so

that nobody dies as

soon as they step in

the living room but it's

still awkward for eddie

again, he won't

be embarrassed

Sara: seriously any

more of this and I'll

say you should fuck

him just to get it out

of your system

Laurel: No.

Tommy: NO????

Lisa: u could always

have a threesome

Lisa 🤝🏻 Ronnie

"can I tell you

about the wonders

of having multiple

partners"

Lisa: my boyfriend is

the one with two

girlfriends

Sara: did u ever have

a threesome

Dig: Can you keep that

level of gossip to your

group chat?

Lisa: pls half the people

in this chat have literally

been inside each other

Sara: yikes

Laurel: This is all Oliver's

doing.

??????

are you

slutshaming

me?????

Tommy: u did get

around most

?????

Tommy: within this

group

tommy

u literally

ASKED me to

suck ur dick

Tommy: lmao I never

said im innocent but

I did not have sex

with sara

Sara: amen

Lisa: hey dig how do

u deal with this love

rectangle

Dig: Barely.

im being bullied 

ill ask iris to

boost my ego

Sara: poor oliver jonas

queen, billionaire son

and bar owner, engaged

to the love of his life,

doesn't get enough

love :(

Laurel: Yeah, why aren't

you crying into Felicity's

arms?

iris is president

of my fanclub

Dig: Felicity is annoyed

by these antics.

that too

Tommy: poor baby

Lisa: anyway, can we

look at eddie's nudes

now???

Tommy: he's NOT fully

naked

Lisa: pity

Sara: pity

pity

Laurel: Something tells

me he would strip for

you guys if you asked.

Sara: probably yeah lol

Tommy: im not even

home

Tommy: I say we

schedule this for our

Sunday discussion

Lisa: then why did you

bring it up now

Lisa: asshole

😅😅

Lisa: making empty

promises like this 😭

Laurel: If it helps I

haven't seen those

pictures since he got

the calendar either.

Sara: JFJFJDJFJF

TOMMY????

Sara: look I'm not

saying there's sexual

tension between you

and eddie bc I know

you are a very hetero-

sexual man and

tested your limits but

Sara: man you have

a weird brain when it

comes to eddie

Tommy: he makes it

weird!!!!

Tommy: I mean it got

much better even

when he lived here

but sometimes im

almost biphobic on

reflex

Sara: :0

Tommy: and I don't

want to be!!!!

He's just annoying!!!!

maybe you

should talk

to him

Lisa: yeah eddie can

grow and learn 

Laurel: Yeah, he's not

as bad with being

annoying as your dad is.

Dig: Or Damien Dhahrhkh.

the way you

refuse to spell

his name right

dkfhfkfk im dying

Dig: All in allyship

with Laurel.

Laurel: Thanks, John.

Lisa: what did I miss

Sara: oh we all hate

damien but laurel

most of all

Laurel: He ruined my

LIFE.

Tommy: come on babe

those were two weeks

Laurel: What if I missed

my true calling because

he turned that

internship to hell?

Tommy: im no expert

but I think you make a

kickass lawyer and found

your true meaning there

Sara: agreed ✊🏻😫 

Lisa: ?????

you know how

damiens wife

and my mum

ran for mayor

against each

other??

Lisa: well I know now

Dig: Dhahrhkh tried to

rig the election.

It was a huge thing.

Sara: and now guess

who interned at town

Hall while that happened

Laurel: To be precise,

I was neither close to

THAT part of official

business nor was I

dating either of the Queen-

Merlyn clan at the time.

Tommy: yeah werent

you seeing that

trainer guy??

Laurel: Does it matter?

Lisa: you were interning??

Shit was I even born

back then

Sara: haha she called

you old

Laurel: You are literally

two years younger

than me.

Lisa: so did they blame

you for the rig or

what???

Laurel: No.

Laurel: But people kept

bugging me about it

because of my connection

to the Queens.

Laurel: Including journalists

who were very penetrant.

even linda

wouldve stopped

at that point 

Laurel: So yeah. No

fun memories there.

Lisa: yikes I gotcha

Sara: damien darhk

hate club <3

Sara: nora is fine tho

Laurel: I haven't talked

much to her but yeah.

She was a teen back

then, after all.

Sara: now you make

yourself sound old

Sara: nora is literally

my age

Lisa: old 💀

Tommy: you are literally

a child

Lisa: yep 😫 dont even

have the 2 in my age 

Lisa: and my birthday

is soon!

Lisa: still no 2 😫

HARTLEY turns

20 soon

Dig: Finally he's aging.

Tommy: 😳😭😭

Sara: it's his own fault

for rounding up his

age when we met

Laurel: I was gonna

say maybe we should

gift Hartley that enlarged

picture of Eddie, but

then it would be literally

in Eddie’s own flat and

we can't have that on

his ego.

good call

Dig: I still don't see

the point about us

having it in our living

room, though.

Tommy: u will see!!!

Dig: Sure, Merlyn…

Lisa: in the meantime

does anyone want

something from the

grocery store

Lisa: mick is paying

with lenny's money ❤

Sara: I need the most

expensive wine you

can find in that case

Laurel: A bagel.

Tommy: I can buy you

a bagel

Laurel: Two bagels.

Tommy: ill buy you a

bagel factory 😏

Sara: nice vine reference

sis

don't make

your brother

turn back to

crime lisa

Lisa: I think it's too

late for him now

Lisa: He's fully become

a goody two shoes 😔

Lisa: I blame bar

Sara: yeah obviously

Lisa: rest in pieces

Leonard "Thief" Snart

1989-2017 may your

memory be a

blessing 🕯

Tommy: mashallah 

the actor????

Laurel: Great! You just

offended all

Abrahamic Religions

at once! This

conversation ends now.

Sara: shouldn't that be

my call--

Laurel: No.

Dig: Lisa, can you bring

some sunflower oil?

I need it for cooking and

forgot.

Lisa: sure thing!!! see

u later 😘

Sara: oh finally some

good fucking food

HEY

Chapter Text

Sara really doesn't know what she was thinking. Granted, this is the first proper first date of her life, so it'd make sense she has no clue how to deal with it, but as they board the train she thinks she kinda could have thought about this better.

She hadn't even known how to greet Ava, really, because while they did kiss at the party, it wasn't, like, planned . This being a date only adds a pressure to the whole thing that she's not used to. When she dated Nyssa, they just kinda fell into it – not really behaving any differently unless you count the making out when nobody was around. And when the thing with Ollie started, it had been more about the physical thing and speaking around rather than actually going on dates . Plus, she refuses to call the boat thing a date. She still has a scar. She doesn't want to associate any dates with any injuries.

But she's put thought into this one. She knows Ava will enjoy the museum if nothing else – though she does hope she'll appreciate the company, too. And she'd considered a car ride but… Well, she doesn't have a license and has no clue if Ava has one. Dig would've probably driven them, because he's nice like that, but somehow that would have been weird . She's already hyperspace enough of the fact that both the Quiver and Their Weird Little Group™  (named so by Tommy) are just waiting for any news; she wouldn't need an active spy. Though it wouldn't surprise her if Linda just so happened to take a stroll through Keystone, really.

So a train ride, it is. At least it doesn't take too long. And, when they slide into one of those booth thingies where the seats are facing each other, with a small table between them, she's pretty happy. She'll get to look at Ava the whole time, so it's absolutely a win. She’s also pretty glad that Ava didn’t dress up in any particular way – she always looks so put together, and today is no exception, but thankfully she hasn’t, like, put on a red dress or something. Sara had taken one of her nicer blouses, and tight black jeans that she knows make her ass look great, but that’s about it. It is, after all, just a trip to the next city.

Not that she’s told Ava any of her plans for the day, of course, which is why she frowns a little as they sink down. “So, we’re going to Keystone?” Ava wants to know, which makes sense because this particular train only commutes between the two twin cities.

Sara hums in affirmation. She watches as Ava’s face becomes thoughtful, and when she opens her mouth, she beats her to it. “not telling you where we’re going,” she singsongs.

Ava, naturally isn’t even surprised by that. She acts up her disappointment, though, with letting out a sigh and sinking back against her seat. In Sara’s opinion, it’s pretty cute, probably because she’s the reason for her acting like that. She’s sure that just two months ago or so she’d have been irritated by the act. 

After a few seconds, Ava admits, “I’ve never been to Keystone.” She sounds thoughtful. “I know, it’s close by, but I just never… I never had the time, I guess. Though I’ve got to admit I’ve always been intrigued because–”

“The founder of Keystone was a murderer?” Sara finishes, sending her a proud grin. “He founded Central, too, or so I’ve heard.” 

For a second, Ava looks utterly delighted about the fact that Sara knows that, but then realization dawns on her. "Oh. Barry," she says, her voice disappointed. "I forgot you're actually friends with him."

"Them," Sara corrects automatically. 

"Oh crap, sorry! Them , of course," Ava hurries to correct herself, eyes wide. Then she shrinks a bit. "I'm kinda, uh, still new to... all that." She gestures around, in a way that signifies it goes beyond pronouns.

Sara raises an eyebrow. "Being... out?" She prompts.

Ava shakes her head. "No, I've, uh, told my family years ago. But they–" She averts her eyes, feeling insecure. "They kind of didn't take it seriously? I guess they thought I'd just acted up to distance myself from my sisters, so to speak."

Sara nods in understanding. For the longest time, everything she had done had been an act of rebellion. Trying to stick out against Laurel, which obviously created some sort of tension in their family. The idea that her sexuality had anything to do with that, though, is, quite frankly, ridiculous. She hadn't even realized she liked girls until she'd been in Tibet for four months. 

"So," Ava says and blows a raspberry, which is pretty adorable, "I'm not really used to... being around other queer people, I guess. But I'm trying to be, uh, considerate."

Sara nods. When she'd come home from Tibet, she'd thought she was the only person who wasn't straight in their circle. (Looking at the Queens now, though, that memory always makes her laugh. She'd never been alone, as it turns out.) Before anyone else came out, Sara had felt pretty lonely with her supposed otherness , and it didn't help that her girlfriend was at the other end of the world. Which is, really, why she'd pitched the idea of the LGBT club to Ollie. She'd already made queer friends during her first year at college, but the thought that there might be others who felt as isolated as she'd done during her Senior year... She wouldn't wish that on anyone. Oliver, of course, would claim that it had been his idea, because he remembered Sara's frustrations. And maybe he did, but she'd been the one who proposed the whole thing and only then Ollie said, Oh, I had the same idea , which is absolutely bullshit, if you ask her.

Anyway, she knows where Ava is coming from, is the gist of it.

"Sorry," Ava shakes her head before burying her face in her hands. "I'm being a downer. I'm fully ruining the mood–"

"It's fine," Sara waves her off. "I mean, I just thought about Nyssa , so talk about unfitting topics."

She doesn't know if Ava and Nyssa actually still talk – and wouldn't that be awkward? How would you even chat up someone with whom's ex you're going on a date? (She supposes she should know, seeing Oliver's track record with her and Laurel, but at that point she'd mostly been furious all the time, so memories are fuzzy.)

But Ava takes her mentioning like a champ. She doesn't look any annoyed or something, but curious. "Oh yeah?" She tilts her head. "How come?"

"Well," Sara plays with the lapel of her jacket. "I was just thinking how I wasn't, like, aware of being bi until I'd developed a crush on her. And then I came back home and I was kind of a different person but not really?"

Ava looks intrigued. "You were there for a year, right?" She wants to know. After Sara nodded, she continues, "I mean, after so long it'd be weird if you hadn’t been different. And you figured yourself out, so that's brilliant. How did your family take it?"

Sara shrugs. "Pretty well," she says. "My dad was a bit awkward, but tried his best. I told my mum over the phone, so... Well, I mean I told all of them on the phone, at first, because I was still in Asia, but my mom obviously wasn't around all the time after I got home. So she's kind of, like, distanced, I guess." Thinking like that hurts sometimes, some days more than others, but it's a fact. Sara knows her mom does her best to reach out, as does she, and she also knows she's got more contact to her mom than Laurel does. Still, she smiles as she continues. "Laurel, Tommy and Ollie kind of threw me a coming-out party," she says. "They ordered an extra cake beyond the 'Welcome Home!' one that was just... the bi colours. It was cute."

Now, Ava fully smiles. It's a soft one, one that says she's genuinely happy for Sara, and it takes all of her not to switch seats so she could kiss her. At this point it's probably stupid, seeing how they've already kissed, but a part of Sara's mind is still fixed on taking this slow. Her past relationships have been so fast-paced, she wants to do everything with her whole heart behind it this time around. And maybe seeing all the mushy couples in her friend group has turned her into a romantic of sorts.

Ava's mind seems to go down a similar route. "So, you hadn't actually kissed any girls but Nyssa until I–" She starts, gesturing between them. She looks kinda proud about that assumption.

Sara laughs. "I've been to Gotham a few weeks ago," she says. "What do you think I did there?"

The mental calculation is visible on Ava's face. "Wait, you didn't make out with Kate Kane, did you?"

"She's in a monogamous relationship. But luckily there's other queer girls than Kate Kane in Gotham," Sara says with a snort. That she had been her goal for that weekend goes unmentioned. 

"Wait," Ava says then, looking somewhat surprised. "You went to Gotham after you told me you liked me!"

Sara ducks her head a little. "Maybe I, uh, practiced for you?"

In return, Ava crosses her arms, leveling a glare at her. It lacks malice, though.

Still, Sara agrees to play along. "Aw, are you jealous?" She wants to know.

Ava sighs and shakes her head. "I think I couldn't afford to be," she says. "I mean, not only are you best friends with your ex, you also live with him."

Sara lifts her thumb, counting. "Very much engaged and in love with his fiancé ex," she says. Lifting her index finger she continues, "Living with him and four to five other people, depending on the day."

It's enough to make Ava snort once more. 

"You can be a little jealous, though," Sara prompts, wiggling her eyebrows. "It's sexy ."

There's a delicious red colour spreading across Ava's cheeks, and she splutters a little bit. When there are no words leaving her mouth, Sara only holds her gaze for a moment longer, keeping the challenge alive.

Then she decides to drop it and asks instead, "So, did your family ever–?" Learning these things about Ava, despite their nature, are kind of a thrill. Just a few weeks back, she might have been an asshole about it – happy about the fact that Ava isn't as perfect as she comes across. Now, though, she genuinely wants to know and reassure her.

"Well, they–" Ava mulls it over for a second. "They're not… bad. Not going out of their way to, like, celebrate it, either."

Sara grimaces a little. She reaches out to squeeze Ava's hand, and somehow hers stays there. "That sucks. I'm sorry," she offers.

"Ah, well. It's not like I've ever– well, anyway," she shakes her head to herself. "I'm not seeing them often since I moved to Central. And I guess the, uh, club does help. It's… it's nice to see others like me."

Hearing that fills Sara with a bit of pride. Knowing that her idea did amount to what she'd planned. Of course, she's seen it a lot before: from Oliver finally coming out to helping Hartley with, well, everything. But each time she's reminded of it, every time she thinks about the content smiles and comfort everyone else displays during their meetings (even Julian, though he hides it well a lot of times) she feels herself buzzing with happiness. She wonders if that's how Ollie feels every time he signs someone new up for his LGBT+ foundation. 

She carries on with the conversation. "So you're not from Central? Should've known, all the pretty ones aren't from there." (She sends a short prayer upward to whatever goddess may be listening, hoping that Iris and Linda don't sense her outright lie there.)

It's worth it, though, because Ava's blush just deepens. Sara can feel her hand twitches beneath hers, but she doesn't pull away.

After a beat, Ava tries, "Well, yeah. You're not from Central either, so…"

Sara can't help but give her a toothy smile before she looks down at the table where their hands are joined. "So anyway," she says then, clearing her throat.

Ava chuckles at that.

"I figured, we'd go to a museum. They currently have–"

Now, Ava pulls back, but before Sara can even feel anything about that, she's lifting her hand to her mouth. "Are we going to the Keystone Killer Exhibition?" She gasps, and when Sara nods affirmatively, she starts flailing. "Oh my God," Ava breathes then, buzzing with excitement. "I've been thinking of going there since they announced it, but it's always so weird to even consider going to something like that when you're a woman, all on your own, so–" She clears her throat, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Well, yeah. This is cool," she closes sheepishly.

Sara shakes her head, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "Hey," she says softly. "You can totally goof off on me. I haven’t listened to your podcast yet, you know?"

Ava frowns. "You… you know about my podcast?"

"Z's a fan." Sara shrugs. In fact, Zari did mention it a couple of times. Whether she's actually a frequent listener, Sara doesn't know. She hopes that statement doesn't kick either of them in the ass.

She supposes it's worth the sight in front of her: Ava turning from confused to touched, and then excited. She starts babbling on about serial killers, the most interesting ones, and how she wants to work for the FBI eventually, and Sara has got to be honest– she can't follow completely, and mostly because Ava's… Ava as a whole is just too mesmerizing. She can't help but stare at the faces Ava makes, unbeknownst to herself, most likely, and the way she's suddenly not guarded at all anymore. She used to look so unapproachable, like she's got a bad smell under her nose all the time, and now she basically did a 180. Really, it's worse than thinking back to how Snart used to act versus how he does now. 

Sara loves it. She wants to see more of it, create more of those moments where Ava lets go and just acts and is happy. It's a good sight, and it warms her heart. 

She kinda can't wait for the museum.

–

Later, after a man with dark skin walked past them while Ava kept rambling on about facts the displays don't include, and her own opinions about the methods they used while figuring out the identity of the Keystone Killer, the man shaking his head as he mumbles something about white chicks (Sara can't blame him. As far as she's concerned, geeking out over true crime is very much a white chick thing .), Sara can't hold back anymore.

She grabs ahold of Ava's hand where it was moving midair and twirls her around so that they crash together. In a second, her mouth is on Ava's, and after a small surprised huff from the other, she opens her mouth to kiss back. And Sara can't help but grin into the kiss as she thinks, Take that, John Green .

Chapter Text

Babe 😍

would it be weird

if I slept with

hartley's ex

hartley has an

ex???

ex something.

probably just a

hook-up

well

I mean we con-

stantly slept with

the same people

right

u know that's

different

yeah? how 🤔

well for starters

we don't live

together

lmao thank fuck

can you imagine

hey it would

have its perks

oh yeah?

watch parties 👀

which is my

second point.

When we sleep

with the same

person I can

picture you guys

which is awesome.

I do NOT want to

picture hartley

having sex

you have a

dirty mind babe

I literally started

his convo talking

about sex

what even

brought that on

let me set

the scene

it was a rainy

day in November

so… today?

shhh

anyway,

I was heading

out and ran into

this dude in

front of our

house

so I'm nice and

let him in and

asked where

he's headed 

and he says

hartley

hartley can have

friends that aren't

us

yeah but when

I said huh hart

didn't mention

we'd get a

visitor he went

👁👄👁 and

asked if I'm

hartley's boyfriend 

NOOO he's like

a BROTHER 😬😬

my words

exactly. You

know me so

well ❤

so after I

stopped laughing

I said no

hartleys boyfriend

is upstairs

with him 

ok I haven't

found the reason

to be thirsty yet

babe where is

your waxing

poetry about men

🥺

he's a FIRE-

FIGHTER

oh the most

noble profession

.

im literally

a cop

I said what I

said 😌

cops are bastards

and the few good

eggs I know don't

count

fair

apparently

hartleys and

ciscos new

project has

something to

do with the

uniforms 

gotta say I like

me a Uniform

but firefighters

have the ugliest

WHAT

NO they're

so SEXY???

The suspenders,,?

The bulges of

their arms

beneath the

tight shirt…..

the dissonance

of the thick

layers and

what's beneath….

there's the

poetry! :D

also lmao

what's sexy

about scrubs.

How would

FIREFIGHTERS

be the LOSERS

are scrubs

considered

uniforms

I think???

we should

ask caitlin

so do you

just want to

sleep with

hartleys ex

whatever bc

he might be

Ripped?

basically

he's got a

nice smile

oh you love

a nice smile

I do 😭😭

you also HAVE

a nice smile :)

keep talking 👀

no.

BABE

someone needs

to keep your ego

down 😌

but not my

girlfriend?????

you're supposed

to be sweet

talking me 24/7

I really don't

think that's

how it works

but I want it

to work that

way :(

🤷🏾♀️

life is hard

really feeling

loved

you could go

complain to

your partner 😅

maybe I will!!!

lmao my dad

loves me too

much to shit

talk me 

so you're

number 2

of his kids

now?

I mean I share

second place

with Bar and wally

in general

not for me :)

it's fine, I know

you will always

like bar more

than me

the tragedy of

my life

you dont share

second place

with anyone

tho <3

success! 

speaking of

sharing

I guess you

should ask Hartley

if he'd be okay

with you sleeping

with his ex lol

I'll be honest

he's out of my

mind again

woah

Eddie Thawne

without an

obsession???

it vanished as

soon as I talked

to you 😍

you're full of

shit 

no seriously

I don't even

remember

what he looked

like

are you trying

to be sweet or

are you serious

because if it's

the latter I am

concerned about

whether you

should be doing

your job

OBVIOUSLY I

was being

romantic 

Eddie do you

have face blindness

oh damn

there's mick

I gotta go

EDWARD

 byeeee <3

I'll send you a

selfie of my

bloody face