Chapter Text
Leonard was a man of habits. He sat in his usual spot at the bar that he frequented the most, as he slowly sipped on the same drink that he always ordered. Whiskey, ice cold. The seat that unofficially belonged to him was the best in the house, by his standards. He was a good distance from the door, but still had easy access to it. He had a view of the entire bar, but he was not on display. He liked to sit by himself, and simply observe the people around him. It was grounding, in a sense.
He picked up his glass, and took a slow sip. The whiskey was still cold, though it was somewhat watered down, now that the ice cubes have begun to melt. He placed it back down on top of a folded napkin, and gently rubbed his hands together. He exhaled through his nose, and shifted his attention to the crowd of people scattered in the room.
He was observant, and soon enough, his eyes landed on a sweater that looked familiar. He would have brushed it off, but he could see two long legs sprawled out on a bar chair. He stilled, and moments later, the occupant of the chair lifted his head up, revealing his identity. It made Leonard feel uneasy. The bar was no place for a cop, much less for a hero.
Yet, there he was, and if the swaying of his body, accompanied by the slumped look on his face was anything to go by, Barry was wasted . It was odd. Snart began searching his mind for answers, but it made no sense. Barry's sped up metabolism should have prevented him from the most minor influences of alcohol, and yet, he was barely able to keep his head up. That meant trouble.
The criminal shifted in his seat. He downed the rest of his drink with one, swift motion, then focused his attention entirely on the man that was supposed to be his enemy. He wasn’t doing much of anything, aside from the constant battle of trying to keep his head from slamming onto the wooden bar top ahead of him. Leonard averted his eyes for a moment, and searched the crowd for any sign of the two nerds that usually gravitate around the kid, but they were nowhere to be seen.
He looked back mere seconds later, and low and behold, the man sitting next to Barry was engaging with him. He had one arm loosely draped over Barry's shoulder, and he was muttering something into his ear with a smug smile on his face. Barry's features twitched, but that was about all the reaction he gave in response. The man continued talking, and as he was doing so, he slowly started rubbing his hand up and down the other man’s back, going from between his shoulder blades, all the way down to his waist.
Snart narrowed his eyes. He had a gut feeling that something was wrong, and even though it wasn’t his business to look out for the hero, he simply could not just leave it be. He would tell himself that he was only looking for something that he could hold over the speedster’s head in the future, but for now, he decided to make a move. He slowly rose from his seat, and snatched up the napkin that he had been using as a coaster. He crumpled it up in his fist as he slid out from behind the table, and elegantly made his way across the room, headed for the trashcan that sat in the corner.
He navigated the room with ease, keeping his pace slow and steady. He neared the two men sitting at the front, and tilted his head just a little to get a closer look at what was going on. The man sitting next to his favorite source of annoyance seemed to be in his forties, perhaps closer to fifty. He had a scruffy beard, tangled and unkept. He wore a baseball hat with the logo of some fishing group, but that too had seen better days. One glance at his hand, and Leonard could tell that he was a mechanic of some sorts. He had dark brown grease under his nails, and a stubborn oil patch on his sleeve that he probably didn’t even try to get rid of.
Leonard didn’t make a scene. He simply pushed forward, and dumped the napkin into the trash. He turned around to head back to his table, and it was just in time to catch the man gently tilt Barry's head up by the chin. It was too loud to hear his voice, but Leonard was able to make out the words he was mouthing. “You’re so beautiful.”
The criminal frowned to himself, and sat back down at his respective table. He pulled the empty glass closer, and started to tap the ring on his pinky against it, while he wrecked his mind for an answer. It really wasn’t his responsibility. The kid got wasted, and that was it. He was an adult, and he was more than capable of taking care of himself, and that’s exactly what he appeared to be doing at that moment.
Barry moved in his seat and placed a hand on the older man’s arm, and with all his might, he gave him a push. It didn’t get him anywhere, not in the current state he was in. The man didn’t budge. Barry made a move to stand up, which resulted in him elbowing his drink off the bar. The glass fell to the ground and shattered into pieces, the alcohol fizzling away on the ground.
Leonard paused. He stared at the ground, observing the scene. He was unsure at first, but the cloudy layer of liquid gave it away. He was certain that the drink had been spiked.
He felt the rage fill his chest. He looked back up at the two, this time with fire behind his gaze. He held the glass tighter in his grip, and watched as the man took hold of Barry's arm and stood him up. He shot an apology to the bartender, then pulled the young man closer to himself, and started dragging him out of the building. The hero was barely able to walk, so most of his weight was being supported by the stranger.
Snart was a calculated man. He could be compared to a wild cat; like a tiger, for example. He knew that timing was crucial, and that being loud and going too fast would only get him further away from what he wanted. He waited until the two exited the bar, and only got up after the door closed behind them. He had made up his mind, and just like his feline counterpart, he stalked after his prey.
He moved in silence. He was outside a moment later, his gaze focused on the offending man. He kept a safe distance, but he observed, his eyes never leaving the target. He had both hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, but he was ready to strike at any given moment.
“Fuck off,” came the slurred voice from Barry, though he seemed mostly out of it. He had his eyes closed, and his lips curled in a frown. He was unaware of the full picture, and the severity of the situation. He stumbled along.
“There you go, buddy,” the man huffed as he readjusted his hold on the young man. He dug into the pocket of his worn out jeans as they approached his car, and pulled out the keys. He took a quick glance around, and saw nothing. He opened the door to the backseat, and lowered Barry inside, moving to have him laying down across the seats.
Leonard emerged from the shadows. He pulled out the gun that had been tucked into the back of his jeans, and pressed the tip of it against the back of the man’s head, making the threat clear.
“Careful.” Snart's voice came out like liquid nitrogen; dangerous, and brutally cold. He held the gun steady, his finger curled against the trigger with anticipation. He wanted to shoot, and had this happened a year ago, he would have. Things had changed.
The man stood stock still, fear cursing through his veins. “Look,” he started in a low voice. “I've got my wallet in my back pocket. It’s yours, you can have it, alright? I'm not looking for trouble, man.”
Snart decided to play along. He kept the weapon steady, and snatched the wallet with his other hand. He flipped it open, and took a moment to observe its contents. “Marvin Cohen,” he read aloud, before simply tossing the wallet to the ground. He shifted his attention to the barely conscious speedster. “The kid looks awfully out of it.”
“Yeah, he’s had a few,” the man rasped after a moment of confusion.
Leonard dipped his head into a slow nod. “He sure has,” the criminal drawled. “What was it that he had? Actually, let me guess. It was easy lay, right?” He saw the man’s shoulders tense, which prompted him to keep going. “You know the one, don’t you? It has lots of names, but surely, someone such as yourself would know all about it. The gamma acid. The one you slipped in his drink.”
Marvin closed his eyes, and let out a shaky breath. “Look, man. I mean what I said, I don't want any trouble. I don't know what you’re talking about, okay? He's- I'm just taking him home. He got really drunk, and I offered to drive him home, that’s all.”
“Ah,” he mused. “That's real nice of you. I’m sure you were just going to tuck him in and read him a bedtime story.” He clicked the safety on his gun, and took a step back. “Turn around, Marvin. Nice and slow.” He watched the man do as he was told, and once they were face to face, Leonard lowered his gun. He tucked it into his waistband. The man’s previously haunted expression eased into one of relief.
Good .
He took that moment to deliver the initial swing that had the man stumble back and collapse against his car. He had no time to waste, and frankly, he was filled to the brim with anger. He grabbed his opponent by the back of his jacket and yanked him to be standing upright. He grabbed a fistful of his hair, and without missing a beat, he slammed his head against the window with enough force that the window broke and scattered all over the place. He repeated the process for good measure, this time smashing in the passenger’s side window. He let go, and watched the man fall to the ground, his face covered in blood. He was weeping in pain.
Even better .
Leonard pulled out his gun once more, and switched the safety off. He used his boot to roll the man to be on his back, then crouched down next to him with a tired sigh. “Alright, Marvin.” He pushed the barrel of the gun against the man’s cheek, and proceeded to speak in a calm manner. “Here's what’s going to happen. You are going to get in your car, and you’re going to drive straight out of this city, and far beyond, until you run out of gas. This was your last night here, and you won’t be coming back. Ever. Keep in mind that if you try to return, I'll shoot your brains out. I've got eyes everywhere, and maybe I won't be the one to catch you, but I promise you,” he leaned in close, and through gritted teeth, he continued. “I will be the one pulling the trigger.”
Hastily, the man nodded his head. He waited until the weapon was out of his face, before rolling onto his side and scrambling to get on his feet. Leonard took that time to step to the car, and lean inside. “Come on, kid.” The chilling voice was gone, and replaced by something much warmer, a tone that was considerate. Caring, even. He took hold of Barry's arms, and carefully pulled him up into a sitting position. “That's it, Barry.” He had considered asking him if he felt like he could stand, but upon taking a good look, the answer was obvious. Leonard pulled him closer, and finally hauled him out of the car, holding him to his chest in a bridal carry. “I've got you.”
Barry's eyes fluttered open. He had lost track of his surroundings, but he could make out bits and pieces. He could hear Snart’s piercing voice floating around him, but he couldn’t exactly locate it. He felt a sense of shame in his chest, assuming that he had done this to himself, that he drank to this point. That would be a new low, even after how awful the past few months had been.
He rolled his head to the side, and found his face pressed against what he could make out as a shoulder. His mind immediately went to the man who kept bothering him at the bar. He forced out the air from his lungs to make a desperate sound, his hand reaching up to try to push the offending man away.
“You’re okay, kid. It’s just me.” Snart’s voice had returned, but this time it sounded a lot more clear. It took him a moment, but he finally registered that it was the criminal holding him, and not the stranger. That was a relief.
“Le’nrd…” he breathed out, and burrowed his face into the man’s jacket. Snart had given him every reason not to trust him, but Barry found himself at ease around the older man. There was just something about him. No matter how bad the fights got, or how many times Leonard pulled the rug from under his feet, Barry would come running back to him, each and every time. Perhaps, it was just a side effect of the pill that was slipped into his drink, but he found himself wrapping an arm around the criminal’s neck, and wishing that he could do this more often. His scent could be compared to that crisp aroma in the air that followed after a heavy rain. It must have been his cologne. It was addicting. “You smell good,” he observed, his voice coming out small and raspy.
He felt the steady chest vibrate as Snart hummed in response. “You need to sleep this off,” he pointed out, but Barry didn’t want to. He had been pining after Leonard for the longest time, and he wanted to savor this moment, take in every detail. He forced his eyes open once more, and tilted his head up a little to try to get a good look at the other man. It was dark outside, and his head was spinning, but he could still make out the sharp jawline, and the look of determination as the older man carried him to wherever they were going. He should probably be asking about that, but he found that he didn’t care. With a content sigh, he let his eyes close again. He shifted around ever so slightly, until his head was resting against Leonard's, the slightly stubbly chin rubbing against his forehead. He liked this. He liked Leonard, but that revelation was followed by darkness as he succumbed to the influence of the drug.