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“You want to kidnap younger me?” Barry’s confused voice sounded from the Waverider’s speakers on the bridge. His face was projected above the control panel. As soon as they’d found out about the problem, Sara had had Gideon call S.T.A.R. Labs.
“Just for a little while,” Ray rushed to explain. “We’ve had to kidnap our past selves to keep our current selves safe before—”
“So this is a usual thing for you?” Cisco asked as he wheeled his chair into the video’s frame next to Barry.
“You know kidnapping has always been on my resume, Cisco,” Len said.
Barry held his hands out, as though he could step between them while being in a different room than Len.
“Play nice,” he said, giving Len in particular a look before turning back to Sara. “Who’s trying to hurt me exactly?”
“The Time Bureau,” Sara said, sounding disgusted just saying the name. “They’ve decided that The Flash is a danger to the timeline, so they’re trying to take you out before you get your speed.”
“I’m never going to live down Flashpoint, am I?” Len heard Barry mutter to someone else in his lab before Sara grabbed his attention again.
“We’re going to keep your teenaged self safe on the ship while you convince Rip and the Time Bureau that The Flash is more help than harm to the timeline.”
“Wait,” Barry said, waving his hand as if he could brush off those instructions, “Why does your plan leave me dealing with the boring bureaucrats?”
“Have fun, Red!” Mick called before ending the call.
“Wait!” Barry’s call faded out as he disappeared.
“Alright team,” Sara said, looking around at all of them. “Let’s go kidnap The Flash.”
Sara and Mick were the ones that actually went to get Barry. Len stayed on board the Waverider with the others, trying to hide just how curious he was about the teenaged Barry Allen.
Not that he expected too many surprises. Barry was a scientist, a good guy, a nerd. Barry as a teen was likely to be exactly the same. Maybe slower and less muscular, more likely to be bullied, but still the same predictable Barry Allen.
That’s why he was surprised to walk into the infirmary to find a younger version of Barry Allen screaming at Sara—something about them not being able to stop him, visiting his dad, and not caring what Joe said. Len couldn’t make heads or tails of the shouts, but he’d never seen Barry act like this, even when he was furious.
The kid’s turquoise hair flew into his eyes as he fought against Mick’s hold. The bright hair, the dark clothes, the ripped jeans? He looked and acted drastically different than the Barry that Len knew.
“Seems like you all made a great impression,” Len said as he walked in, a smirk on his face. It was disconcerting to see Barry so different than his expectations, but like hell he was going to make that obvious.
Sara shot him a glare from where she’d moved to help Mick hold Barry to the chair. “Very helpful, Leonard. Help us hold him still.”
Instead of moving forward, Len just snapped, much like he usually did to get Mick’s attention, “Barry!”
Immediately, Barry stilled. He stopped struggling and his gaze focused on Len.
Len finally moved. He motioned for Mick to move away, and once there was room, sat on the edge of Barry’s chair. Slowly, calmly, evenly, he said, “Someone from the future is trying to kill you. We—” he paused to gesture at others in the room, “—time traveled on our ship—” again he paused to gesture around them, “—to save you. You’re welcome.”
“Time travel?” Barry asked, voice quiet.
“Yeah, he’s going to believe that,” Sara mumbled from behind Len.
But Barry didn't seem to hear her. He was mumbling himself. “Einstein hypothesized it was possible, but…” He looked around the ship as though gauging how likely it was that it was a time machine. Then, his nervous eyes looked back to Len and he asked, “Can you prove it.”
Barry’s eyes were practically popping out of his skull for most of the tour, but as soon as he was on the bridge, he really let loose. He rushed from console to console examining everything he could and asking a million questions a minute.
He wasn’t nervous anymore. He was excited, elated—the nerd Len had expected him to be.
“How did you know he’d believe you?”
Len turned to the voice to see Ray had walked up behind him. He turned back to watching Barry before he answered. “The kid loves science and Sci-Fi and has a blog about bigfoot and UFOs. He’s been dying for someone to tell him this is possible.”
“You uh- you know a lot about him.” At least Raymond hesitated as he said that. Though part of Len missed the days when his teammates were too nervous to pry into his matters at all.
“It always pays to know your enemy, Raymond,” Len said, still without looking at him.
Barry’s questions didn't turn from the topics of Gideon’s specs and the Waverider’s mechanics until they were settled down around a table for dinner.
Then, he finally thought to ask, “Why would someone from the future want to hurt me?”
Sara, who had been letting Ray, Jax, and Stein field the questions for most of the day, answered, “Future you made a mistake. They thought it was unforgivable. We disagreed.”
While Barry watched Sara, Len watched Barry. His face gradually fell, going from curious to devastated. Even before he spoke, it was easy for Len to guess where his thoughts had gone. He was entirely focused on the news that in the future he would do something unforgivable. Something bad enough for an entire organization of people to decide the world was safer without him in it.
“In the future,” Barry said, voice small and on the verge of breaking, “I’m…a bad guy?”
“No, no,” Jax rushed to reassure him. “Dude, you’re one of the best guys. You just made a mistake. The people we’re saving you from? They’re the bad guys.”
Of course, Jax got along well with the kid. They were closest in age, and they were friends in the future. Barry was one of the people that had helped Jax find his calling as a hero. Barry was a friend, a mentor, a hero.
And as Barry continued to look unconvinced, another hero he’d influenced spoke up.
“Really, Barry,” Ray said. “You’re a hero. You inspired me and a lot of other people to become heroes, to do our best to help others.”
Len hadn’t realized how many people on the ship had been touched by The Flash. From what he’d heard, they wouldn't have Firestorm without Barry, and Ray had gone to Team Flash for help a time or two. Even though the Hawks were off the ship now, Len knew Barry had been there when Kendra had discovered her powers too. And, Len hesitated to admit, Barry might have had something to do with his decision to join the team.
“Really?” Barry’s voice pulled Len from his thoughts. “And you’re all heroes? You travel in time and help people?”
“Yes! Exactly!” Ray answered.
“Correction,” Len said before they could get too excited. “They’re heroes. Mick and I are thieves.” There was no reason to give the kid the wrong impression. They may help the good guys, but that didn’t mean they were heroes, especially not ones in the same category as The Flash.
“But you’re helping save me,” Barry said, with an all too familiar look in his eyes. Great, just what he needed, another Barry Allen believing there was good in him.
“I’m helping steal you,” Len corrected. “Trust me, there’s no better score than stealing Barry Allen.” A smirk grew on his face as he imagined how the older Barry, his Barry, would react to the idea of Captain Cold stealing him. “You’ll understand in a few years,” he added before getting up and leaving. He had better things to do than answer a teenager’s questions about heroes after all.
If there was anything Len was learning by meeting teenaged Barry Allen, it was that the kid was much more of a rebel than he thought. The hair should have been a sign, but Len just thought that was Barry’s way of trying to seem tough. Watching the kid argue with Sara though? That was enough to let Len know that Joe helped give Barry more issues with authority than Len thought possible in a superhero.
Then again, maybe being a vigilante was a sign that you didn’t trust the law any more than the criminals did and you were going to take matters into your own hands, even if that meant breaking a few laws yourself.
“You can’t tell me what to do!”
Barry’s shout brought his argument with Sara to a halt. Silence fell as Sara stared Barry down, looking like she was about to show him exactly why she could tell him, and everyone else, what to do.
Unfortunately, this version of Barry Allen wasn’t any match for Sara Lance.
“Captain,” Len called out, distracting Sara and possibly saving Barry’s life. “The kid’s a little old for a bed time, don’t you think?”
“Let ‘em do what he wants,” Mick said before taking a swig of his beer.
“Fine,” Sara said, getting a look in her eye that spelled trouble for Len. “You two babysit him then.”
Before Len could inform her that babysitting was not on his resume, Sara had turned and stormed out of the room.
A throat clearing brought Len’s attention back to the teenager standing awkwardly next to where he and Mick were seated.
“So you’re a thief, right?” Barry asked.
Len just raised an eyebrow. Was the gangly, turquoise teen going to try and judge him now?
“Can you steal me one of those?” Barry asked, pointing to Mick’s beer.
Len rolled his eyes as Mick barked out a laugh. “Beat it, kid,” he said before snatching Mick’s beer himself and taking a swig.
Babysitting was definitely not on Len’s resume.
Len would have thought someone who lived with a cop would have been good at sneaking out. That’s how it was for him. He had to perfect sneaking around, and there was little room for trial and error. But Barry was all too easy to follow out of the Waverider.
Normally, Len would be angry about someone trying to sneak off and act out on his watch, but this time he was far too curious about where a teenaged Barry Allen would go when he wasn't being watched. The kid had gotten Gideon to create him a fake ID before leaving too. Now, what could boy scout Barry Allen need a fake ID for?
Along with his co-babysitter, Mick, Len casually strolled down the street a discreet distance behind their oblivious runaway.
A tattoo parlor.
Barry went to a tattoo parlor.
Barry Allen—adult, hero, Flash, do-gooder who looked unfairly good in leather—had a tattoo.
That—
--was a thought best saved for later.
“We sure that’s The Flash?” Mick asked from beside him, staring at the shop and looking just as shocked as Len felt.
“Kid’s full of surprises,” Len said before stepping forward. “Come on.”
They walked in just in time to see Barry being handed a mirror to check out his new lip piercing.
A piercing, not quite what Len was imagining, but not disappointing. Until he remembered that adult Barry Allen didn’t wear a lip piercing. That was disappointing. Maybe that would be changed by the time they got back though. Len could hope.
“Oh no.” Barry’s voice broke through Len’s thoughts. The kid thought they were mad. How cute. As if a couple of criminals were about to dictate what he did with his body.
“Nice bling, kid,” Len said as he walked over and took a seat on a chair set near Barry. He crossed his legs on Barry’s chair as he sat back and just stared at the kid. No reason not to let him sweat a little.
“How did you find me?” Barry asked, looking as if the world were ending.
That didn’t even deserve an answer. Len raised his eyebrow, his ‘seriously?’ fully implied in the gesture.
“Right um—”
Barry was cut off by the tattoo artist. “He’s eighteen, right?”
Len watched Barry turn red, let him slouch in his chair for a few seconds, before he finally answered. “Yeah, the kid’s legal.” Barry’s head snapped up at Len’s words. “No worries. Did he just ask for the piercing?”
At the man’s nod, Mick spoke up. “You need more than that, kid.”
“What?” Barry asked, eyes wide.
“If you’re going to sneak out and rebel, you need to do it right,” Len said.
“Need some ink,” Mick said while leafing through a book of tattoo art. Len nodded.
“What—what would I even get?” Barry asked.
Mick opened his mouth to answer, but Len, having just had possibly his best idea yet, beat him to it.
“A snowflake.”
Mick gave him a flat look. “Really, boss?”
“It’s perfect,” Len said, a smirk on his face.
“Why a snowflake?” Barry asked, looking a little confused but not too skeptical of the idea. Good.
“I don’t want to give too much away about your own future, Barry,” Len said, making sure he sounded sincere and serious, “but the cold will be…significant for you.” Mick snorted, but Len ignored him. “The snowflake will be symbolic of that.”
“Is this about—” Barry paused and looked around, watching the tattoo artist to make sure he was properly preoccupied cleaning his tools, before whispering, “the superhero thing?”
“Yes,” Len said, his sharp smile lighting up his face, “Cold is very meaningful to your hero persona. You could say that you’re sensitive to it.”
“It’s that important?” Barry asked.
Len nodded solemnly. “Safe to say, I’m at my most inspired when I see you covered in ice.”
“Ice powers,” Barry whispered while Mick choked back a laugh behind him.
“So,” Len drew out the word, trying not to sound too invested in the answer, “snowflakes then?”
“Yeah, let’s see what they have,” Barry said, looking up at Len with a familiar, bright, too trusting smile.
“Excellent idea,” Len said, and with that, they started looking through the art on display.
Barry finally settled on small snowflakes that looked like they were drifting in the wind, and only hesitated a little on the placement.
“Are you sure about the hip?”
“You said you didn’t want Joe to see it, right?” Len answered him.
“The detective regularly look at your hips?” Mick asked, having started following Len’s lead quickly after Len didn’t drop the idea.
“What?” Barry asked, voice nothing more than a loud squeak. “Of course not!”
“Then it’s the best spot,” Len concluded for him.
“I guess,” Barry said as the tattoo artist started setting him up.
There wasn’t much in the shop that let on that they were in the future, but Len had never seen an artist sit down to give a tattoo without grabbing a needle first. Instead, he placed what looked like a clear bandage over Barry’s hip—which was revealed with some blushing on the teenage Flash’s part—and with a touch of a device that looked similar to a pen, snowflakes appeared just as Barry had described them earlier.
“Woah,” Barry said, staring in fascination at his hip.
And thankfully, he was too distracted to hear Mick murmur to Len, “Careful, you’re drooling, boss.”
Len shot him a glare. Was he filled with pride at seeing a symbol that represented him on The Flash? Yes. But did that mean he was drooling over a teenager? No.
Was he imagining that same mark on a much older Barry Allen, possibly with less clothing? Maybe.
“How’s it look? Good?” The artist asked, and once Barry had finished nodding and rambling praises, the man covered the clear bandage with a silver one. One more touch of his pen device, and Barry yelped in surprise, his hips arching off the reclined chair as he jumped. He calmed quickly enough, and then both bandages were removed to show snowflakes permanently inked across Barry’s hip, floating in a trail that led under the waistband of the pants Barry was closing.
It was perfect.
Then Mick nudged Len, and he was forced to pull his eyes away from where he was definitely not staring.
They paid and pulled Barry away from where he was thanking the artist repeatedly. Then, they were out the door.
That didn’t stop Barry’s motormouth though. He was asking question after question about the future, curious about what else was different besides how tattoos were applied. He hardly paused long enough to draw a breath much less give them time to answer, and Mick used the noise to cover his own questions.
“The hip, boss? Hoping to see that on future Red?”
Len rolled his eyes at both of them, and with a bark of, “Rebellion time over, kid. Let’s get back,” he stormed ahead and led them back to the ship.
The next day, Len and Mick were relieved of babysitting duty as they called it. Barry didn’t agree with the term. He was seventeen, almost eighteen, hardly a baby. And definitely not in need of a babysitter.
Sara didn't agree. In fact, she seemed to think that his babysitters needed babysitters.
“You tattooed The Flash,” was the last shout Barry heard as he crept out of the room. He wasn’t planning on leaving the ship this time, but there was something he had been hoping to do ever since he woke up on a time ship and he needed some privacy to get it done.
For once, the bridge of the ship was empty—everyone too busy either eating breakfast or berating Len and Mick—and Barry knew it was now or never. He just wasn’t sure how to start.
He cleared his throat and tentatively called out, “Gideon?”
“Yes, Mr. Allen,” the electronic voice sounded, startling Barry so much that he jumped back as the large face appeared before the console.
“Right, um. I was wondering…Gideon, do you know everything about the future? My future? Their past?”
“I cannot tell you about events in your future, Mr. Allen,” Gideon warned, which Barry already figured, but surely this wasn’t the same thing. He wasn't trying to find out about what bets to place or who he married, he just needed to know one thing. One thing that probably meant nothing to anyone else but meant the world to him.
“But can you tell me if Henry Allen was ever pardoned and released from jail?”
He held his breath waiting for an answer, each second of silence killing him, wondering if he was imagining it or if Gideon really was hesitating and drawing it out. Just as he was about to ask again, ask her to please tell him what was going to happen to his dad, she spoke.
“Yes, Henry Allen received a full pardon.”
“When—” Barry started to ask, but then Sara stormed in and cut him off.
“There you are.”
“Hi, Sara, I—”
“You, I don't trust anymore. Gideon, keep an eye on Barry. He’s not allowed off the ship without my permission.” Sara’s attention turned back from Gideon to Barry. “Now, you haven’t eaten yet. Let’s go grab breakfast.”
“But I—”
“And you can show me that tattoo. I didn’t get a good view of it earlier. Did you really let Leonard talk you into snowflakes ?”
“Are you avoiding Barry?”
“No,” Len said, looking up from the book he was reading to give Jax an unimpressed stare. “I’m avoiding everyone,” he added before very deliberately looking back down to his book and turning a page.
Jax snorted. Not the response Len was hoping for, if he was being honest.
“Right,” Jax said, “because we’re all so annoying.”
“Bingo,” Len said without looking up.
“But I think you should come out of hiding long enough to see Barry.”
He wasn’t hiding , and he didn't like the implication that he was, which was enough to make Len continue to refuse to make eye contact.
“The guy’s funny,” Jax said, taking a different tact. “Can’t believe I caught Barry Allen checking out Sara while she was working out.”
Interesting news, but not entirely surprising. He may be Barry Allen, but he was still a teenager.
“Can’t believe I caught him checking you out,” Jax said, catching Len’s attention and finally earning eye contact. “Didn’t even know that he was into guys,” he continued.
Len didn’t either. He suspected, he hoped, but he didn’t know .
“But he was definitely checking out your ass, dude.” Len gave Jax a flat look at that, not really believing it. Then Jax continued, “It’s only fair if you get to watch him play in the fabrication room.” At Len’s raised eyebrow, Jax said, “You should see some of the outfits he’s trying on.” Then he left.
Len gave him a few minutes head start before putting his book down and following. No need to look too eager.
Len arrived just in time to watch Barry’s back as he does back into a makeshift dressing room. He didn't have enough time to see the entire outfit, but he could tell that it wasn’t a band shirt and ripped jeans like Barry had been wearing for the past few days he’d been aboard. No, it was much tighter than that.
“Alright,” Barry called out, laughing, “last one.”
“Make it a good one,” Jax said back to him.
“Gideon can make anything,” Ray said from where he was standing next to Jax, “so choose your dream outfit.”
“The coolest thing you can think of,” Jax added.
Sara, who was standing across from them, was the only silent one in the room, but she nodded at Len as he walked in.
When Barry came out, his clothes were very familiar. Black jeans and boots, and a black leather jacket over a dark red shirt.
“That’s the coolest outfit you could think of?” Sara asked, grinning more at Len than at Barry.
“Yeah,” Barry said. “It looks awesome.”
“It looks like Snart’s,” Jax said, making Barry’s gaze dart to Len in panic.
“No it doesn’t!” Barry protested.
“Yeah,” said Sara, obviously amused, “Barry’s shirt is red, and Leonard’s is blue. It’s completely different.”
Barry scoffed as only an offended teenager could. “It is! It’s—” he started to say but seemed to realize it was a lost cause and stormed back into the fitting room, screaming, “I hate you all.”
That was the last straw as Sara and Jax started laughing. Ray did a better job holding it together, but possibly because he was more concerned about Barry than amused.
Len just rolled his eyes as he walked away. He was going back to his book.
Returning Barry back to his time didn’t take long at all. They didn’t even need to knock him out or restrain him like they did when bringing him aboard the Waverider. They only needed to worry about erasing his memories.
Barry had learned too much during his time with the Legends—that time travel was possible, that he became a superhero, that metahumans existed, etc.—and leaving him those memories would cause too many changes in the timeline. Luckily, there was future gadget for that, and with one press of a button Barry was clueless about his weeklong adventure aboard a timeship.
Well, almost clueless.
“How is he going to explain the tattoo?” Ray asked once they were back aboard the ship.
And while the others were busy panicking, Len laughed.
Barry still didn’t remember anything when they got to the present. They couldn’t fix that as their memory device only wiped memories, not restored them. One too many taunts from Len though, had Team Flash scrambling to come up with their own fix.
They eventually settled on using Cisco’s ability to vibe to restore Barry’s memories. There were gadgets involved, and science techno babble, but Len hadn’t paid much attention to it. He didn’t doubt they could fix Barry, and all of the details were just boring him.
So he started to wander the labs, seeing if anything had changed, seeing if there was anything worth stealing. Which was how Barry found him when he sped in, temper blazing.
“This is your fault?” he shouted at Len while lifting up his shirt to expose his hip and part of his tattoo.
It looked even better than it had the last time Len saw it, so Len didn’t see any reason not to stare, tilt his head, make it obvious.
“Hey,” Barry said, waving is hand for attention, “My eyes are up here.”
“Yeah, but this is a better view.”
Barry huffed as he tugged his shirt down. “Can you be serious for a minute?”
“I’m very serious, Barry, and flattered,” Len said as he leaned back onto a desk. “I didn’t know you admired me so much. To get a tattoo of me—”
“That was your fault, and you know it,” Barry accused, storming towards him. “I woke up one day with snowflakes on my hip and no memory of getting a tattoo. And snowflakes ? Seriously? You talked me into getting a tattoo and chose snowflakes ?”
“I thought it was a great plan, personally,” Len said with a smirk. “And you didn't seem to mind at the time. In fact, you even started dressing like me. Teenage Flash had style.”
“Oh shut up, Snart,” Barry said while rolling his eyes. “I just thought you were hot.”
“Did you now?” Len asked as he pushed himself off of the desk to step into Barry’s space.
A blush spread along Barry’s face as his words caught up with him. “Teen me did,” he corrected.
“And adult you?”
Barry’s eyes darted everywhere until Len’s hand landed on his side, then his gaze was glued there. Len watched Barry’s breath hitch before he answered, “I might agree.”
“Really?” Len asked as his other hand came up to frame Barry’s face.
Barry didn’t even try to answer. His eyes were focused on Len’s lips, and as Len leaned in, Barry met him halfway in a kiss.