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Whumptober Prompt #13- Adrenaline and #17- “Stay With Me”

Heeeey.  I’ll make this short, no one’s really reading anyways. This is ColdFlash.  The Adrenaline is interpreted rather loosely.

Chest compressions.  Breath.  Breath.  Chest compressions.  Gasp like there’s no air.  Breath.  Breath.  Listen to his heart.  Don’t hear anything.  Chest compressions.  Don’t panic, don’t paNIC, DON’T PANIC.  Breath.  Breath.  Nothing.  Start chest compressions again.

“Stay with me, Barry, stay with me.”  Mutter under breath.  Barely notice the water vapor.  Jacket is still sticking to skin.  Hope that the cold won’t kill him faster.

Don’t look at his slack, angelic face.  Rip off mask just in case it’s impeding his breathing.  Check his airway again.  Don’t think about doing CPR on his lifeless body.  Continue doing chest compressions.  Breath.  Breath.  Check his pulse.  Check again.

Panic.

“No, no, no, please, Barry, stay with me.  Don’t go, don’t go, stay with me, please.”

Feel lost.  Feel scared.  Feel angry.

“You bastard!  How dare you?  Come back, you bastard!  Come back!”

Clench your hand into a fist.  Pound on his chest.  His body jerks.  A small trickle of water comes out of his mouth.  Grasp onto the smallest hope.  Do it again.  And again.

… 

With the greatest sound Len had ever heard in his life, Barry coughed, throwing up water and bile as his airways cleared.  Len turned Barry onto his side, and the coughing became easier.  When he stopped throwing up, and his breathing seemed to come naturally, Len hooked his arms around Barry’s knees and back, hauling him into Len’s arms.  He really wished he could take Barry to Star Labs where his friends could help him, but there was no way he could do that.  Len would have to leave his bike behind, he couldn’t hold onto an unconscious Barry and drive at the same time, but thankfully, he had a safehouse a couple of blocks away so he planned out a route in his head.  They were in a neighborhood where nobody ever looked out their windows, so he could just run with an unmasked Flash in his arms and no one would see anything, or say anything if they did.

In exactly fifteen point seven minutes, Len fumbled for his keys in his back pocket, trying to balance an unconscious Flash and open his locked door at the same time.  It took him fourteen point three seconds, an increase from his usual ten point nine, to get the door open and manhandle Barry inside.  He set Barry down on the nearby couch, glad he had had the foresight to put the couch close to the door, though he had done it in case he needed a quick shield or barricade.  He grabbed the throw pillows Lisa had given him as gag gifts, the ones with the Flash and Captain Cold personas on each, and tried to set Barry up so he was comfortable but still kept his airways clear and his chest without too much pressure on it.  He wasn’t a doctor by any means, but he’d read enough from the medical textbooks the prison libraries had available to know he needed to keep the stress off of Barry’s chest.  Soon as he was satisfied, he wrapped Barry in as many blankets as he could find.

Soon after, Barry’s wonderful, beautiful green eyes fluttered open.  Len’s entire body sagged in relief.  Barry’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, his mouth moving stiltedly.

“Barry?”  Len asked, trying to be gentle.

“-one.”  Barry struggled to get out, coughing again.

“One?  One what?”

Barry tried to clear his throat.  “Phone.”

Len pat down his jacket, and pulled a waterlogged phone out of his pocket.  He grimaced.  He hadn’t taken anything out of his pockets before jumping into the water after Barry.

“I have others.”  Len stated, setting the now useless phone on the coffee table.

He bolted to the bedroom and easily got into his safe, the one where he kept his important documents for the apartment like ownership papers and fake identities in case he needed to run, and pulled out the first burner phone he saw.  When he returned, he saw Barry trying to reach for the dead phone.

“Use this one, this one works.”  Len pressed the phone into Barry’s hands.

Barry’s hands were shaking as he tried to type a number into the text message function.  He kept slipping so Len gently took it from him, listening ardently.  Barry rattled off a number, a local one, so it was either Cisco or his father.

“What do you want to say?”  Len asked quietly.

“Cisco- it’s Bar.  Am safe.  Will come back ASAIC.”  Barry panted, sounding exhausted.  “Am safe, aren’t I?”

Len chuckled dryly.  “Yes because I’ve gone to all of this trouble to pull you out of a river, given you CPR, and dragged your dumb Hero ass all the way to one of my apartments to kill you.  It’s all a part of my master plan.”

Barry’s mouth quirked into a small smile.  Len would deny ever feeling a flutter of butterflies in his stomach like a schoolgirl at seeing that smile.

“Typed and sent.”  Len said, showing Barry the phone.

Barry nodded and closed his eyes again.

Len sighed, feeling just a tad guilty but shook Barry anyway.  “Nope.  You can’t rest just yet.  You gotta help me get you out of this suit.  You’re freezing.”

Barry didn’t open his eyes, he merely hit a button on the chest plate of his suit and it became more relaxed than Len’d ever seen it.

“Come on, you can’t help me?”  Len teased, feeling a little better about getting back into their usual rhythm.  “You’re gonna make me strip you alone?”

Barry didn’t answer him.

Len checked his pulse and breathing, and found them both strong.  It seemed Barry’s metahuman healing factor was putting him back together at record speed.  Len double checked them again, just in case.

Then he soldiered on, manhandling Barry out of the Flash suit.  Barry must’ve been more than exhausted to let him do this alone because all he found underneath the Flash’s red not-leather, as Barry once insisted, was Barry’s smooth marble skin and toned muscles.  He didn’t even know that Barry had a six-pack, but to be honest, it made sense.  Flash was strong enough to take on guys like King Shark and Gorilla Grodd so having a six-pack and muscles that almost made Len drool didn’t seem too far-fetched.

When he got to the legs aspect of the suit, he hesitated.  Barry only wore his boxers underneath, and those certainly couldn’t stay but he did not want to do that alone.  But it seemed Barry was good and out, and wouldn’t be helping.  So Len tried to push his personal feelings for Barry, and definitely his attraction to Barry’s stunning runner’s physique, as deep in the back of his mind as he could and got to work.  He peeled the fabric away, first from the suit, then from the soaking wet cotton that was the only thing left protecting Barry’s modesty.  As soon as he could, he threw the blankets back over Barry so the temptation to look would not have its day.  He hung the soaking wet Flash suit over his shower curtain, with Barry’s boxers right next to it.  Hopefully, they could dry a little that way.

A low moan caught his attention.  He returned to the couch to find that Barry was beginning to wake up a little.

“Come on, baby, wake up.”  Len whispered, shaking Barry’s shoulder a little.

“Baby?”  Barry blinked his eyes open, much more coherent that the last time.

“What?  No, I called you Barry.”  Len said, cursing his stupid mouth for acting without his permission.  “You must still have water in your ears.”

“Water?”  Thankfully, Barry seemed to buy it.  “Wait, when did I get wet?  When-” Barry reached up to his face and recognized that he was no longer dressed.  “Where is my suit?!?”

“Relax, Scarlet,” Len smirked, enjoying that Barry was turning the color of his nickname, “It’s drying in my bathroom.  You were soaking wet, you needed to get out of those wet clothes.”

Barry nodded.  “That explains why I’m so cold.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”  Len asked.

Barry frowned.  “Jewelry store.  A new meta with some kind of either super strength or molecular density rearrangement… That’s it.”

“He got you pretty good.”  Len filled in.  “You took a bad hit to the head, and went flying over the bridge into the Mississippi.”

Barry stared at him.  “Then… how did I get here? With my suit in your bathroom?  Did you pull me out?”

Len distinctly ignored the memory of panicking in the murky water, desperately searching for the speedster.

“Eh, you more washed up on shore.” Len lied. “I couldn’t have anyone find you and know your secret.  How else would I still be able to continue working without you constantly throwing me in jail?”

Barry stared at him, his mouth twitching until he smiled.

“You saved my life.”

“I merely did what was necessary for me to do what I want to do.”  Len said.

“Then why did you give me CPR?”  Barry asked.  “I can feel it, you know.  I can feel my ribs knitting themselves back together and my lungs aching from the water.  You said I took a bad hit to the head.  Not the chest.”

“You probably broke your ribs when you hit the water.”  Len tried.

Barry’s smug smile was spreading across his face.  “No I didn’t. You saved me.”

“If you start with that ‘there’s good in you’ shit again, I’m kicking you out.”  Len snarled, his hackles rising.

Barry put up his hands in surrender.  “Wouldn’t want that.  You got a phone I can borrow? I need to tell the team I’m okay.”

“I already sent them a text.”  Len grumbled.

Barry’s smug smile got worse.

“Hey, that was your fault.”  Len accused.  “You were moving around trying to get a phone, I had to send it because you couldn’t.”

“I was?”  Barry asked.

Len nodded.

“I don’t remember any of that.”  The smug smile vanished, replaced by a worried frown.

“You took a bad hit to the head and fell off a bridge.”  Len said, gentler.  “Cut yourself some slack.”

Barry nodded back, then looked Len up and down.  “Are you okay?”

“Ask yourself that.”  Len said.  “You’re the one who fell off a bridge.”

“You seem cold.”  Barry started.

“Why thank you, and me without my parka.”  Len shot back.

“No seriously, you look cold.”  Barry tried again.

“The cold never bothered me anyway, Scarlet.”  Len smirked.

“Then why are your hands shaking?”  Barry asked bluntly, ignoring the terrible line.

That caught Len off guard.  He looked down and, shit, Barry was right. He shoved his hands and found his jacket still soaked through.

“Let me get out of these wet clothes and I’m sure they’ll freeze.”  Len said, standing.

Barry groaned.  “That was terrible!”

Whumptober Prompt #18- alt. Prompt #2- Broken Voice

Yooo!  Here’s more ColdFlash!  You guys really seem to like that one.  I was gonna do muffled scream but broken voice demanded to be done instead. Enjoy!

One last thing- this was heavily inspired by You Make Me Swoon by Crimson1 on AO3- it’s great piece go read it!

...

Barry stumbled into his apartment, dizzy and unstable.  He hadn’t even been able to get his keys into his locks, instead having to vibrate himself through the door to get in the apartment.  He needed food or he was going to pass out again.  He’d already flashed in and out of consciousness fighting the Rogues, unable to truly put in any effort into stopping their bank robbery.  Honestly, he was sure the bank was insured so it didn’t make too much of a difference to the speedster right now.  Right now, he was only focused on food, any food he could find.  His shaky hands pulled at the cabinets, finding nothing in them.  Living as a superhero didn’t exactly bring home the bacon, and his CSI’s salary was barely enough to keep him paying his rent and student loans on time.  He sometimes had to skip meals because he couldn’t afford them, and now he was drastically paying for it.  His cabinets were empty, his fridge was empty- wait!  One jar of grape jelly.  He didn’t care that he couldn’t make a sandwich, didn’t care that he didn’t have any toast, he just ripped off his glove and shoved his fingers into the jar.  But his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t control what was left of his strength, and the jar shattered on the floor.

Barry sank to his knees, uncaring about the glass, as tears streamed down his face.  His body screamed out for food.  He wanted to call Joe, call Cisco, call anyone for help, to get him some food but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything but lay on the floor and cry.

Distantly, he heard footsteps, and something opening the locks on his front door.  He didn’t even have the strength to lift his head.  He really hoped that was Joe or Iris, because he couldn’t think of anyone else who had keys to his apartment.

The door swung open to reveal Leonard Snart, not dressed in his parka but Barry couldn’t see his cold gun from the floor.  That didn’t mean he didn’t have it on him though.

“Scarlet?”  Snart’s voice so far off he may as well have been in the next city.  “Scarlet!”

Snart ran over to him, and he felt fingers pressing into his neck.

“Come on, Scarlet, say something.”  Snart muttered.  “What do you need?”

“-ood.”  Barry tried to say but he had no strength left to say it with.

“What?”  Snart frowned at him, an uncharacteristic look on unease on his face.  If Barry had been in a better mind, he would’ve called it fear.

“Food.”  Barry gasped out.  “Only had… jelly… gone.”

Snart looked around, saw the shattered jelly jar, his last vestiges of hope lying broken on the floor.  Then, he grabbed Barry under his arms and hauled him to his feet.  Barry’s legs were unable to stand on their own so he crashed into Snart, who readjusted his hold on Barry.  Kidnapping wasn’t on Barry’s list for things to do today, but he resigned himself to it.  There was nothing he could about it now.

Surprisingly though, Snart gently set him down on the couch.

“Stay here, Scarlet.  I’ll be right back.”

In his mind, Barry questioned if Snart was blind, clearly he couldn’t go anywhere under his own power.  Soon after Snart left, though, Barry’s thoughts became fuzzy as he drifted in an out of consciousness.  He was almost sure that what had happened had been a hypoglycemic dream when someone with a deep, dry voice shook him.

“Scarlet, wake up.  Come on, dammit, wake up.”

Barry blinked, the blurry light eventually taking the shape of Leonard Snart.  He realized Snart was holding a glass of orange juice in front of Barry’s lips.  He opened his mouth and Snart helped him drink the juice.  Once the glass was finished, Snart carefully fed him some yogurt that Barry could barely taste.  For one heartbeat, or ten minutes, Barry wasn’t sure, Snart just carefully fed him food that he somehow produced in a way that Barry’s hypoglycemic mind couldn’t process.

The more Barry ate, the more human he began to feel, the more he could perceive his surroundings.  Snart was sitting on his battered coffee table, carefully distributing his weight, with used wrappers and a jug of orange juice beside him.  The thief wore a blank expression, but Barry saw the fear in his eyes.  Snart then reached over and put his ungloved hand on Barry’s forehead.

“No fever.”  He muttered.  “Then what the hell is this?  Starvation?”

“What are you doing here?”  Barry asked, finally finding the strength to speak again.

“So it lives.”  Snart chuckled, avoiding the question.  “And here I thought I had lost my nemesis to malnutrition.”

Barry frowned at Snart.

“What are you doing here?”  He repeated.  “Why are you helping me?”

Snart snorted.  “I don’t have the kind of dirt on anyone else as I do you.  I’m merely keeping our business relationship intact.”

“Screw off, Snart.”  Barry groaned.  “I don’t want your pity and I don’t need your help.”

“I think that’s where you and I disagree, Scarlet.”  Snart said.  “You’re bleeding, and I doubt you can stand on your own.  Help isn’t my strongest suit, but I’m willing to make an exception in this very unusual case.”

“I can stand.”  Barry said, and made to do just that.

Snart cocked an eyebrow at him.

Barry stood.  For all of two seconds before his legs gave and Snart had to help him back down to the couch.

“I think that proves my point, Scarlet.”  Snart chuckled, obviously amused at his expense.

“Go home.”  Barry sighed.  “I don’t have the energy to deal with you.”

“Here, drink some more OJ.”  Snart poured him another glass.  “It’ll help.”

This time, Barry was able to hold the glass himself, though his hands were still so shaky that Snart held onto the glass just in case.  Barry would never admit it, but he was grateful the man had decided to help instead of taking advantage of the situation.

“I feel like shit.”  Barry admitted, feeling so miserable that he could even admit it to Snart of all people.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you curse.”  Snart chuckled dryly.

“I try to censor myself in the suit.”  Barry said.  “Set a good example for anyone who’s listening.”

“Isn’t that sweet?”  Snart smirked.  “Gotta be a hero even kids can look up to.”

Barry rolled his eyes.  “You never answered my question.”

“You never answered mine.”  Snart responded.  “What is this?  What’s wrong with you?”

“My metabolism goes so fast it requires so many more calories and my blood sugar can drop in an instant.”  Barry explained.  Snart already knew his weakness to cold and his identity.  How could telling him this be any worse?  “I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, I got home so late from Flash business last night I overslept.  Was almost late to work.  Skipped lunch, there were three new unsolved murders on my desk and they were all marked priority.  Couldn’t eat dinner because of you.  That’s been my day for the last three weeks.  Only a matter of time before I ran out of energy completely.”

Snart pursed his lips.  “I’ll be sure to schedule my heists after dinner time then.”

Barry shoved at Snart, unbalancing the man but not knocking him off the coffee table.

“Fuck off, Snart.  I don’t need your bullshit.”

Snart rolled his eyes.  “And you say helping people is its own reward.”

“Why are you here, dammit?”  Barry snapped.  His fuse was always short when he was hungry and his stomach was still rumbling, though Barry seemed to have gone through everything Snart had bought or stolen from the twenty-four hour grocery store down the street.  If Barry had been thinking more clearly, he would’ve stopped there before coming home.

“Because I wanted to be the hero tonight.”  Snart teased.  “Thought it might be a fun change of pace.”

“No!”  Barry’s voice broke and blood rushed to his cheeks but he was too tired, too spent, too angry to stop and be truly embarrassed.  “No one stops to help me, dammit.  Everyone in this goddamn city takes and takes and takes and posts about it on social media and no one ever even asks if I’m okay!  I’m the Hero of Central City and sometimes I’m just so goddamn done!”

It wasn’t until Snart had reached over with a tissue that Barry realized he’d been crying.

“You’re still bleeding.” Snart said, thankfully avoiding Barry’s outburst.  “Let me get some tweezers.”

“In the bathroom, in the basket on top of the toilet.”  Barry replied.  “They’re somewhere in there, just gotta look through the hair bobs, combs, and the nail clippers.”

Snart raised an eyebrow.

“My sister stays over here a lot.”  Barry explained.  “It’s just easier to have these things instead of her constantly forgetting them.”

Snart nodded, and Barry knew he understood, having a sister of his own.  Snart returned a minute later with some tweezers and a small plate that came from Barry’s cupboard.

“Let me at your shoulder.”  Snart said, gesturing to Barry’s left shoulder.

Barry shifted as best as he could in the suit to give Snart easier access.  Snart dutifully started tugging at the glass embedded in Barry’s skin.

“Look, Snart, about what I said-”

“Len.”

“What?”  Barry frowned.

“Call me Len.”  Snart replied.  “Within the past hour, I’ve pulled you off your floor, fed you, and now I’m pulling glass out of you.  Least you can do in return is call me by my name.”

“Len, then.”  Barry tested the name out.  Surprisingly enough, it rolled right off his tongue.  “About what I said-”

“You don’t have to explain, Barry.”  Sna-Len said, using his own name for the first time.  It felt almost strange yet so very familiar.  “You don’t have to convince me that being a hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“It’s just so damn hard.”  Barry’s voice broke again, but this time he couldn’t be bothered to care.  Tears streamed freely down his cheeks but he carried on.  “People want to be saved and they’re grateful but everyone expects to be saved, all the time, and I’m just one person.  I’m only one Flash, and I’ve got this Man in Yellow and the Rogues, and it feels like every week there’s a new villain who wants to kill me.  And there’s the natural shit, fires from faulty wiring, muggers, and everything else that just normally happens in a city.  I can’t keep up with it.  There’s just so much.”

Barry dissolved into tears as Len silently pulled out the pieces of glass in his shoulder.  The only sounds for a little while was the clinking of the glass on the plate and Barry’s sobs.

“Should I be concerned that I counted twelve cuts when I first started and now I only count nine?”  Len said, breaking the silence.

Barry shook his head.  “I-hic-I heal fast.  One of the perks.”

“So because this heals in a matter of minutes, your metabolism needs what… five, six thousand calories a day?”  Len asked, pressing some gauze from Barry’s first aid kit into the wounds.  Barry almost couldn’t believe Snart’s gentle touch.

“More like ten thousand.”  Barry said.  “I’m always hungry and I never have enough money for food.  Rent and student loans are hard enough, let alone something nice at the grocery store.  And it’s not like being the Flash pays.”

Len wisely kept a comment Barry could see coming to himself.

“That’s why there’s no food in this house?”  Len asked.

Barry nodded.  “I’m always hungry.  I can never keep up with my stomach.”

“I see.”  Len nodded thoughtfully.  “Just to double check, your full name is Bartholomew Henry Allen right?”

Barry nodded slowly, unsure.

“Just checking.”  Len winked and Barry felt like he’d been had in some way.  “You should get some rest.  I’ll grab you a change of clothes from your room.”

Len headed into his bedroom, somehow knowing where it was in his apartment.  Though, given Cold’s obsession with time and control, it made sense.  Len probably hadn’t followed him here, probably just knew where his apartment was, like he knew Barry’s full name.

With practiced ease, Barry started to slip out of the suit.

Len came back with one of Joe’s old t-shirts that Barry wore as a sleep shirt and some pajama bottoms.  Len turned his back as Barry changed into them.  Then without another word, he grabbed Barry by his right arm, slung it over his shoulder and led Barry into his bedroom, setting him down on the bed.

“Be right back.”  Len muttered, almost to himself.  Barry used that time to get comfortable.  Len returned with a glass of water.  “OJ’s in the fridge, and I set some of the yogurt in there too for you tomorrow.”

By this point, Barry was completely fine with Len helping, even though it was one of the strangest nights Barry had ever had, and he was counting when he was in college and one of his dorm-mates drunkenly barged into his room to have him sing “Happy Birthday” to someone he had never met.  To this day, he still wasn’t sure who he had sung it to.

“Thank you, Len.”  Barry said, settling down.  “I mean it.  Thanks.  You didn’t have to do this.”

“Let’s just keep it our little secret and you’ll be fine.”  Len said, the edge of a threat in his voice.  It hadn’t worked as the man had wanted it to.  He didn’t have to say it out loud though.

“Still.  Thanks.”  Barry said, sleep already pulling him down.

Len nodded, and turned off the light.

“You never answered my question though.”  Barry mumbled, half-asleep already.  “Why were you here?”

“That’s a question for another day, Scarlet.”  Len whispered.

He wasn’t sure if he’d dreamed it or not, but Barry did have the distinct feeling of a gentle hand brushing the strands of his hair back and soft lips pressed to his forehead before he tumbled down into sleep.

(What he didn’t dream though was the next week, a letter came saying that his student loan paperwork had been lost and he was no longer liable to pay the loans.  He bought himself six large pizzas to celebrate.)

...

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087476