#forget getting himself mildly injured or the boss putting hands on him

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Three

Summary: In which Flip reaches new levels of anger when the reader is injured, and that’s before he finds out how.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, sexual harassment, burns, angry Flip, hospital, gunshot (all pretty minor and brief). WC-3,574

A/N: Discovered the Rough Day series by @no-droids​ this week and frankly it’s changed me as a person. I cannot be held responsible for my minds distractions when I tried focusing on this chapter. 

Over the next week, Flip’s lack of sleep began to catch up with him. He had begun smoking more to distract from the exhaustion, his temper was always bubbling under the surface, and even Jimmy had told Flip off a few times. While (Y/N)’s performance at work wasn’t affected, Flip had noticed she was frowning a little more often when she thought he wasn’t looking. That bothered him more than anything else.

Guilt lingered over Flip for his thoughts on the day that (Y/N) was accosted. Not only was he now questioning exactly what he thought he saw in her expression, but he also worried that his attempts to relieve himself of the pressure had, in fact, only made it grow. He felt like a damn teenager again. He’d never felt so wholly attracted to a woman before; it wasn’t just her looks or her style, no. Flip was getting turned on by the simplest little smirks, the way she would stretch her shoulders back after typing for a while, or even from watching her take notes in a meeting-her hand moving across the page in elegant cursive.

And he had thought he was a goner when they’d only first met. Now he was a man burning.

It was a bright morning, the kind of day that one hoped for when a fall fair was in town. Flip and Jimmy had been on the scene of an attempted robbery gone wrong; the shop owner had shot the perp as he fled, wounding his arm. While Jimmy remained at the scene to wait on backup and take statements, Flip begrudgingly brought the perp to the hospital to get cleaned up.

He had to wait for uniformed officers from the station to arrive and take over watching the man until he could be released into police custody. Leaning against a wall, Flip watched as the hospital staff stitched him up, mildly bored. His mind floated to thoughts of (Y/N) as he stood there, wondering how she was today. He hadn’t been able to pick her up that morning, and he found any day where they broke from their routine less than desirable. He indulged so little, to get by.  

She had laughed down the phone when he had called to let her know, his voice low from the guilt of having to tell her last minute.

“Flip, I can walk-it’s even a lovely morning!”

“I know darling, just sorry I didn’t give you more of a heads up.”

Another soft giggle, “I’ll see you later, won’t I?”

He had perked up at her question, not missing the edge in her voice-did she want to see him as much as he did her?

“Course you will.”

And he had meant it, although he didn’t expect it to be so soon in the day; he had to blink a few times when curtains little ways down the unit were opened and a flash of familiar hair caught his eye as a nurse stepped toward the bed with a tray of supplies.

Flip was across the room in three strides, his eyes set on the profile of his best friend. Sitting on the hospital bed with her feet over the side, (Y/N) appeared, at first, to be perfectly fine. Her head turned as Flip approached, eyes widening at the look on his face. He opened his mouth to ask-

Her left arm was being treated. It was laid out on a pillow next to her, ointment covering the burns in a thick paste. Her hand, wrist and a few patches of forearm appeared to be scalded, the flesh red and angry, some spots even peeling. Flip’s entire body went rigid as he halted next to her, glancing from the nurse, who was working with great care, to (Y/N), who had tear streaks down her soft cheeks, eyes rimmed red. She smiled at him and his heart turned over as concern flooded through him.

“Pretty girl,” The affectionate epithet spilled from his lips without hesitation. He leaned over her, bringing one hand to her shoulder-more to ground himself than anything. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m okay, Flip, I just spilled some coffee-it’s mostly on the back of my hand and arm.” (Y/N) winced then, as the nurse began to gently wrap the arm in loose bandages. His stomach flipped over at the sight of her in pain, bile in his throat.

“You were lucky the coffee wasn’t fresher, dear. These would be much worse,” The nurse corrected sternly, “As it is, you’ve scalded yourself fairly well so you’ll need to repeat this treatment for a few days, I'll send you home with the supplies and instructions.”

Flip gripped (Y/N)’s shoulder tighter, his thumb mindlessly running back and forth in comfort, “How long for her to heal?”

The nurse glanced up at Flip now, her eyes snapping between him and (Y/N) before responding, “A little over a week, I dare say. Best not to have any hot showers or get the burn wet for a few days especially, and you’ll get a prescription from the doctor for some pain relievers, the first few days will be uncomfortable.”

Sighing with only slight relief, Flip glanced over at his quarry, who was being stitched up. Two uniformed officers nodded in his direction. No longer needing to attend to the perp, Flip turned and took a seat next to (Y/N) on the bed, his hands folding together in his lap. Finished her work, the nurse told them to wait for the doctor before sweeping away to another patient.

“How’d you get here?” He asked quietly, holding his breath in fear that she would say she walked.

“Ron was kind enough to drop me off-I insisted I was fine on my own,” (Y/N) glanced up at Flip, brows furrowing together, “How did you know I was here if you didn’t speak to Ron?”

“I brought in a gunshot victim, few beds over. Saw you when the nurse opened the curtain.”

Sighing, (Y/N) looked away, “I’m really okay, Flip. You don’t need to stick arou-“

“I’ll take you home.” His tone left no room for argument, and he smiled inwardly when her lips quirked up slightly at the corners, giving him no response otherwise.

After the doctor made it around and handed over the prescription and care supplies package, she was discharged. Flip and (Y/N) walked in silence to the car. He was working hard to steady himself now, the adrenaline rush he’d had when first spotting her beginning to ebb away.

“You gonna tell me how you managed that?” He nodded at the burn, pulling the car onto the road in the direction of her home. He was surprised when she didn’t immediately respond or begin to laugh at herself. His chest tightened, waiting.

Silent for a few more moments, (Y/N)‘s voice was unexpectedly quiet when she finally responded with a squeak in her voice, “Just pouring coffees and spilled, that’s all.”

He gripped the wheel tighter as the lie hung in the air between them. He frowned, glancing over, “Okay,” He drawled, searching her face and only finding stress. “What really happened?” Flip was grateful for the fact that he was driving slowly down a quiet residential street when her response came out in a mumble.

Hitting the brakes, he looked around at (Y/N) wildly, “What?”

(Y/N) reached out, alarmed, and grabbed Flip’s upper arm, “Flip, do not get so upset, happens more than-“

“Please don’t tell me that more than one person at work has put their hands on you-”

“It happens. I shouldn’t have to explain what it’s like being a woman working in a place full of men. Sometimes they forget themselves and-“

Flip threw the car into park, “And they grab your ass? And in this case, make you burn yourself?” He felt too hot now. Rage building at the idea that some dirtbags in the station had laid their hands on her. He nearly ripped the door off, climbing out of the car in a huff, pulling the fresh air into his lungs. After a pause, he walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and dropped to crouch on the ground in front of (Y/N), whose eyes had followed him, wide and worried.

“Flip, please don’t be mad at me.”

Flip took her uninjured hand into his own, running his thumb gently across the soft flesh, “Pretty girl, I could never be mad at you,” He replied softly, enjoying the way her eyes widened at his second use of the new nickname, “I’m mad for you-what happened ain’t right. Tell me who did it, each time.”

But she shook her head as a small smile appeared, “Thanks, but I’d rather not get arrested for aiding a murder.” (Y/N) turned her hand over in his, squeezing it, “It means a lot, how protective you are. But I’m alright, okay? I promise.”

He didn’t argue, sensing her close off from him and wanting to avoid upsetting her further. He returned the pressure to her hand, “Let me take you home.”

—

To say that Flip was in a thundering mood when he returned to the station would be an understatement. It was clear that the uniformed officers who had brought in the wounded robber had conveyed to the Sarge that Flip knew of (Y/N)’s injuries; he was waiting in the lobby when Flip ripped open the doors and stormed inside.

“Flip, I don’t know who did it so don’t bother asking.”

He stopped a few paces away from his boss, his chest heaving with the effort it took not to punch the wall, “She said it’s happened more than once!” His voice was cracked, gruff.

“Ron mentioned that she said something to him to that effect-listen, Zimmerman,” The Sarge pinched the bridge of his nose, “If we find out who it was, we can have a chat with whoever, okay? But don’t go-“

Flip huffed, “Yeah, alright.” He nodded curtly before stepping around the Sarge and making his way to the bullpen. When he burst through the doors, his eyes snapped across every set of eyes that met his, looking for a guilty face. Jimmy stood, meeting Flip’s eyes and nodding toward Ron.

Sitting heavily into his desk chair, Flip scooted it up to Ron’s desk and set his elbows down, staring his friend in the eyes as he wrapped up a phone call. He could feel Jimmy standing behind him. When Ron set the receiver down, he held up a finger to cut Flip off before he could more than open his mouth.

“He’s already gone for the day; I told him to leave.”

Flip snarled, “Why the hell did you-?”

Ron exchanged a knowing look with Jimmy, which did nothing to calm Flip, “I know it’s ridiculous for us to have assumed you’d have a violent response to finding out-but seeing as you carry a loaded weapon we thought it best not to tempt fate.”

Flip gave a humourless laugh, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. “Just tell me who.” He had rushed back to the station to deal with the situation, he was getting impatient.

“David Cole,” Ron replied, his lips pursed in distaste.

Fucking David Cole. No one liked the man, a low-level detective who simply grated the nerves of every person he met. “Did he do it the other times?”

“That I don’t know, I just happened to see what he did today.”

This piqued Flip’s interest, “And what exactly did you see?”

Ron sighed wearily, “She was pouring coffee-not for us, maybe the Chief I don’t know-and he walked by and said something to her. Didn’t like how he’d leaned in closer when he did, so I was watching and then he-well, pinched, and she nearly jumped out of her skin and coffee went fucking everywhere.”

Flip took a long drag, considering how Cole had chosen one of the few times Flip wasn’t around to be a complete creep in front of witnesses. “Thank you for taking her to the hospital.” His ears were thrumming from the blood rushing through him.

Ron nodded, “Of course.”

While the rest of the day went by in a haze of roiling emotions for Flip, the one thing he had settled on was not to completely obliterate David Cole the next time he laid eyes on him. It was his first instinct; however, the panicked expression on (Y/N)‘s face in the car earlier gave him pause. He had no intention of upsetting her further.

Flip gave her a call at the end of the day to check-in. She answered after a few rings, sounding a little breathless, “Hello?” Relief already spreading through him at the sound of her voice. His own was low, intimate, when he spoke.

“Darling, just seeing how you’re doing.”

He could feel her smile as she spoke, “Hey detective, I’m just fine thank you,” She paused a moment, “How are you, Flip?”

Flip smiled, his heart rate picking up at the soft way her voice wrapped around his name, “Distracted,” He admitted, “But hearing your voice eases my worries.”

“Yeah? You know, Flip, I’m a big girl-you don’t need to worry so much.”

He opened his mouth to reply when he heard a timer go off on her end of the line. Her guilt evident in the way she took a surprised breath. "Shit."

“Darling, are you baking?”

—

“Fucking shit.” He muttered angrily, shoving the stack of papers he was searching through back into their case file; he was working on the follow up of a case from the year before and could not, for the life of him, find the coroners reports or his notes. Knocking his knuckles against the desk, he considered his next options. The only place he could think he hadn’t gone through was also the last place he wanted to have to search; the file room.

Standing up with a grunt, he stormed across the bullpen and down the hallway that led to the file room. Walking in, he was happy to see that it was empty and made his way to a back corner where he could stand for a few moments and clear his head. Leaning against the cold stone wall, head tilted back, Flip tried emptying his thoughts. 

This worked somewhat, however now he was noticing the pain in his right shoulder-a stiffness he’d developed from an altercation with a suspect a few months prior, where the man had slammed into Flip’s side to attempt a tackle on him. Expecting it, he was able to deflect, however, the shoulder pulled just a bit too far. It flared up occasionally now, a sign of his age.

Thinking of age had Flip’s thoughts wander back to (Y/N), their age gap. Now that they were such close friends, he hardly ever remembered they were nearly ten years apart in age, but if he ran out of other excuses not to tell her how he felt, he could always fall back on that knowledge. He began to ruminate on this, heaving a sigh.

She had come back to work after only two days off, her hand delicately wrapped but otherwise in good spirits. Word of Flip’s angry reaction had spread around the station, giving Cole plenty of heads up to avoid him at all costs. Grateful to not have run across the fucker so far, and sticking to his promise to himself not to seek out Cole and pummel him. (Y/N) and Flip hadn’t discussed that he knew who had pinched her, and she seemed content to avoid the topic.

Still, anger was regularly coursing through him now. He felt trapped in himself, wanting desperately to move-in any direction-that could pull him out of the torturous limbo of being in love with his best friend. Flip tensed, hands balling into fists, as his mind replayed every smile, every hug, every-

“You alright, detective?” Flip started, his eyes flying open at the sound of (Y/N)‘s voice breaking the silence. To both his pleasure and dismay, she was standing a few feet away from Flip. Holding a small stack of paperwork in her uninjured arm and frowning at him in concern. She was wearing the same dress as the day they had met.

It was his favourite.

“Oh, hi,” He breathed, his heart still racing, “You scared the hell out of me, darling.”

She adjusted the papers carefully, cocking a brow at him, “Were you meditating, hippie?” Her eyes swept over him, taking in his tense stance and furrowed brow.

Flip pushed away from the wall and run his sweaty palms down his legs, “Headache snuck up on me, that’s all, just needed some quiet,” He glanced at the papers in her arms, “You need help with those?”

She followed his eyes, “Actually, these are to help you, here.” She held them out to him with a small smile. He could still see the concern in her eyes as she watched him closely.

Flip frowned, “What for?” When he reached out for them, he took care to avoid her hand before looking back up, confused. She shrugged, gesturing at the stack.

“I know you’re working on the 1978 Fox Avenue case-I pulled all of these for you earlier, should have all your notes and the reports from the coroner. Took a little longer to find than I’d hoped, or I’d have had them to you sooner.”

Flip gazed at her for a beat. Setting the paperwork down on top of a file cabinet next to him, he stepped toward (Y/N) and pulled her into a fierce hug, his arms cautiously draped around her shoulders. Her head barely came to his chest, where she rested her cheek, hugging him back. “Pretty girl, how the hell do you do that?” He wasn’t even sure if she’d heard him, his voice low. After a moment, he felt her chuckle against him.

“Do what, exactly?” She sounded a little breathless.

Flip released her, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. Her eyes had followed his motion, dropping to meet his gaze when he lowered his hand.

Flip gestured at the papers, “You just, know exactly what I need without even asking!” He cursed himself for ending the embrace.

She was giving him a soft smile now, eyes heavy, “I guess I just have a sense for you, detective”.  

“Is that how you found me back here?”

(Y/N) shifted at his words, biting her lip, “Mm, something like that,” She murmured, “You know, Flip, I’m not just a pretty face.”

Flip gazed at her in surprise, brows pulling together in confusion, “Of course you aren’t darling, why the hell do you say that?”

“I heard some officer say it about me this morning after I brought around those brownies,” She explained, Flip’s eyes darkening at her words. “And I don’t care what he thinks, but I need to know you don’t think it.” (Y/N) glanced up at Flip nervously.

“I have never thought you were just a pretty face, (Y/N)-“

She cut him off, “Then why do you refuse to open up to me about what’s been going on with you lately?” She frowned, her arms crossing.

Flip watched her for a moment. Of course, he’d known she had noticed his mood had dropped over the previous few weeks, but she hadn’t said much, just made a few jokes here and there to try and pull him out of it. But now, he could see that it was bothering her more than her carefree nature had let on, another instance, no doubt, of her need to care for others. To care for him?

Taking a step closer, Flip tentatively raised his hands to her face, barely touching her along the jaw to tilt her head back. She had frozen in place, staring up at him with wide eyes that he searched for a moment, “Oh, pretty girl,” He murmured, and her expression flashed in delight at the nickname, which was about so much more than her face, “I am so sorry I’ve been taking out my temper on you, I promise I’m alright, just haven’t been sleeping. It’s my damn shoulder.”

“You promise? You aren't keeping something from me? ”

Her breath washed across his face and Flip shivered, his mind no longer in control. His hold tightened on her face, drinking in the way her eyes widened as she stood still in his grip.  Before he could do more than let his eyes fall from hers to her delicious lips, a voice cut through the air.

“Zimmerman, you in here?”

Immediately, Flip and (Y/N) sprang back from one another in surprise. David Cole, of all people, had been the one to speak, from somewhere near the entrance to the file room. Dragging his eyes away from his best friend, he called back, “Yup, grabbing some files.” His hands balled at his sides now. Frustrated at being interrupted and angry at himself for what he had been about to do.

“Alright, Sarge moved the meeting up so he’s looking for you, starts in ten!”

After a brief pause, (Y/N) took a few steps backwards, looking away, her skin was flushed, words breathless, “I’d better get my note pad for the meeting. I’ll see you there, Flip.” She started to hurry away before he could reply.

He watched her retreat silently, trying to still his beating heart and not daring to move.

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Tag list ✨ @tashastrange89 @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @joscelyn02

#flip zimmerman x reader #Zimmerman x reader #adam driver #adam driver x reader #adam Driver x you #reader insert #fanfic #angst #protective #comments appreciated #adam driver x you #best friend

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: The Beginning of Wisdom - Chapter 9 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Leonard Snart (Len) & Leonard Snart (Leo), Len Snart/Mick Rory, Leo Snart/Mick Rory, Len Snart/Mick Rory/Leo Snart, Leo Snart/Ray Terrill, Len Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: In which Leonard Snart is twins.

(the life and times and loves of Len and Leo Snart)

—————————————————————————————————–

"Have you seen him?" Leo asked quietly, after they’d held each other for some time. They both had excellent internal clocks, of course, but they never functioned right when they were together; that time always seemed to go on forever and yet never be enough. "Mick, I mean?"

"Of course I've seen him," Len snapped, though his vehemence was muted. "I go there practically every day –"

"As yourself?"

"...as Leonard."

"So, not really."

"No," Len agreed. "He always knows it's me, of course, but I don't feel like I deserve to be me around him."

Leo held him close. "You do."

"I hurt him."

"He's forgiven you."

"I haven't forgiven me," Len said. "And if I were you, or Mick, I wouldn't."

"Luckily, you're neither of us," Leo said, shaking his head. He knew that Len would never have held it against Leo or Mick if it had been him that'd been injured and they the cause, not for a second: it was only himself that he ever blamed for not taking the blow meant for another. "You should see him. As you."

"I'm trying," Len said.

I'm scared, he did not say.

"I'll come with you," Leo decided. "Both of us. That'll help."

Len pulled his head back and frowned at him. "The risk –" he started.

"Nothing we haven't dealt with before," Leo said. "Unimportant. We need – I need – to tell him about Ray, before anything else happens."

"Because Mick's first."

"You're first. Then Mick." Leo frowned. "And Lisa, but Lisa's on a whole different scale."

"Girl," Len agreed.

"Sister. I know plenty of perfectly nice, perfectly understandable girls."

"Yeah, and outta all of 'em, you like one: Lisa."

Leo decided not to dignify that (correct) statement with a response.

Mick, when he heard the story long after visiting hours that same night, burst out laughing.

"Don't do that," Len said crossly, rearranging his blankets and making sure his pillow was appropriately fluffed. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Stop fussing, boss," Mick said, cuffing him fondly upside the head. "My skin flexibility's back up, I can laugh all I want. And it is funny."

"It is not," Leo said. He might have been pouting.

"It really is," Mick said, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I don't mind. This Ray business, I mean."

"You – don't? You don't even know what my intentions towards him are!"

"You don't even know what your intentions towards him are," Mick pointed out. "That's what happens when you try to decide things using only half your brain."

Len smirked at Leo, who made a face back, conceding the point.

"And no, I really don't mind," Mick said. "You're a lot to handle, Leonard Snart; I always figured I'd have to share a piece of you one day. As long as he ain't awful..."

"He isn't," Leo said.

"Open to determination," Len said.

"'course, that does raise the question, don't it?" Mick continued thoughtfully.

Two sets of eyes blinked at him.

Mick settled down into his bed and reached out both hands, pulling an unresisting Leonard Snart down beside him, one on each side.

"I know this might be a new experience for you," he said, "but relationships are two-sided."

Another blink.

"He likes you, Number Two," Mick clarified. "But as you well know, that doesn't mean he'll like the boss. Lots more people like you than him, Two."

Leo frowned. It was true, of course, that he had many more acquaintances than Len – his industry supported that sort of thing more than Len's, as all of the backstabbing in the fashion world was purely metaphorical rather than very, very literal. And even before that, back in school, when people had known about them both, he had been the more popular because he had been the more charming and outgoing one...and yet...surely...

"Look at you," Mick laughed. "Each one of you with the same confused little wrinkle between your eyes. Did you guys really think that anyone you really cared about had to care about you – both of you – equally in return? Or would, just automatically?"

"Worked with you, didn't it?" Len grumbled.

“I’m not everyone.”

“It’s ‘ain’t not everyone’.”

“No, boss. It really isn’t, I swear. And anyway, atrocious grammar issues aside, you know that most people like just one person at a time, right?"

No.

Well, yes, but it didn't apply to them, surely?

"Besides," Mick continued. "I don’t see what the problem is, though: only one of you likes him, right? So what's it matter if he only likes one of you?”

“That’s not the point,” Len said.

"What a mess," Leo sighed.

"Can we even trust him enough to reveal the truth to him without him squealing?" Len asked.

"I think so," Leo said. "But I'm biased."

"I'll analyze him, then," Len said.

"Analyze," Leo said. "Not threaten."

"Fine."

"Before you get to putting the cart before the horse," Mick said dryly, "didn't the boss just scare him away?"

"Oh. Right. Crap."

Mick started laughing again.

The Leonards looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

(Leo noted approvingly how relaxed Len was with his head on Mick's shoulder, just the way it ought to be. They might not be fixed yet, but they were on their way, slowly but surely.)

Now, normally, they operated on a "he who screwed up is he who fixes it" approach, but in this instance they decided that Leo would probably have better luck sweet-talking Ray back into the job and thereby make himself available.

Leo sent flowers – Ray had once confessed that he liked them dreadfully, even if they were stereotypically girly – and an apology note, and asked Ray to meet him in his office.

Ray arrived with a smile.

"I know I said it in the note, but I really did want to apologize for what happened last time," Leo said.

"It's fine."

"It really isn't."

Ray shrugged. "No, it's – really, it's fine. Actually, to tell you the truth, I'd kind of been wondering when we'd get to see Hyde again."

Leo blinked. He hadn't been expecting that - nor did he know what to do about it. "Hyde? What do you mean?"

Ray had a way about him that when he blushed, he positively glowed. It was a Ray thing, not a model thing; by this point, Leo was familiar with enough models to say that with confidence.

He was glowing now.

"I – oh – er – you didn't know – I thought – can we forget I said that?"

"No," Leo said. "Please explain."

"It's just a joke," Ray said. "Among the models you use most. It's just, you know, you have mood shifts sometimes, you know, like, bipolar?"

"That's not how bipolar disorder works –"

"Right, I keep forgetting you did a BA in psych. You know what I mean, though, right? Sometimes you're an asshole with a heart of gold, sometimes you're a well-meaning sociopath with a friendly smile, Jekyll and Hyde."

Leo blinked. "Wait. Which one's Jekyll and which one's Hyde? They both sound – unflattering."

Ray's glow goes up by several watts.

"I mean, everyone has their own preference, honestly?" he said with a shrug. "The sociopath is Jeykll, because he's there more often - plus, you know, not really a sociopath, just charming as hell, but you can tell he's not really interested in anything you're saying or feeling, you know? - while the asshole is Hyde because we only see him once in a while. I usually prefer Jekyll, since I click really well with people who tend to be more distant and analytical about their emotions, but a lot of the models really like Hyde's whole aura-of-danger combined with a sort of secret-inaccessible-inner-friendliness thing. I don't know, it's just a bad joke. Models have a lot of those."

"Huh," Leo said.

"It doesn't mean anything," Ray said hastily. "It's not like I actually think you have an alternate personality or some sort of evil twin hidden in the closet –"

"I usually prefer the couch," Len, who had never been able to resist a good entrance line, said, poking his head up above said couch. "No one ever looks there."

Ray spun around and his jaw dropped.

His mouth moved, and sound came out, but it wasn't really coherent. His hands twitched in the air like baby birds that had just leapt out the nest and abruptly realized they never learned how to fly. He was utterly dumbfounded.

"I thought we agreed I was going to tell him," Leo said mildly. To be fair to Len, that had really been an irresistible set up.

Len smirked. "Hyde is better than Jekyll any day," he said with a shrug. "Do you know in the original movie version, it was pronounced GEE-kull instead of JEK-uhl?"

Leo, who had watched said original movie with Len, rolled his eyes at this bizarre attempt at flirting. Having found Mick at an early age, Len had never had to learn any flirting skills, real ones rather than the cons he ran on marks, nor had he ever had any interest in picking any skills in that field up – Leo was the one who interacted with people, after all, not Len, so why bother?

Len rolled his eyes back. He had no idea why Leo said his flirting was so terrible – puns and unnecessary movie trivia always seemed to work well for him, and the way Leo would sometimes cough down his hand that it was out of pity for a pretty face with an empty head was entirely uncalled for.

"There's two of you," Ray finally squeaked.

"Quick, this one," Len said.

"Shut up. You get yourself a quick one if you want one," Leo said. "I happen to prefer glowing."

"I noticed that..."

"There are two of you!"

"I think we broke him," Len said thoughtfully. "Oops. Sorry."

Leo gave Len a Look, receiving only a smirk in return.

(He'd never admit it, but he was maybe slightly regretting how he first reacted when Len brought Mick around. In his defense, he'd never thought that he'd be in the reverse situation – not that that was a defense.)

"Am I – is this a hallucination?" Ray demanded. "Did I get drunk and start seeing double or something? Are alternate universes real?!"

"I approve of that fact that that's your go-to thought about what's going on," Len said.

"No alternate universes," Leo said patiently. "Just twins."

"Identical twins," Len added. "In case you hadn't noticed."

"Very identical," Ray said faintly.

"To be fair, you and the other models managed to spot some differences, apparently, with your Jekyll and Hyde analysis," Leo said. He's still not entirely sure about what to do the 'well-meaning sociopath' part of that analysis. "Which puts you ahead of most people."

"Most police, certainly," Len drawled.

"But –" Ray said, clearly too distracted to pick up on Len's hint. "If you're twins – what's your name?"

They blinked at him.

"...Leonard Snart," Leo said. "That hasn't changed. Why would it have changed?"

"Then, what's his name?"

"Leonard Snart," Len said.

“I...what?”

"If it makes you feel better,” Len adds generously, “I go by Len while he goes by Leo. People get really insistent on using the nicknames for some reason.”

Even Lisa preferred them, though she did have a tendency to call them both Lenny that they thoroughly approved of.

"Oh," Ray said. "Is that why you got so angry when I called you Leo the other day? Because you were actually Len?"

"Long story," Leo said hastily.

"Which one of you –" Ray hesitated. "Never mind."

"I'm the one you've been interacting with," Leo said. "Not Len."

"I'm the one that pointed out that we’re married to Mick," Len said, a touch of acid in his voice. "Though, just so you know, we both consider ourselves bound by that."

"I see," Ray said faintly.

"Would you like a seat?" Leo asked, a little concerned that Ray was going to fall over. "You've had a shock."

"Yeah," Ray said, scrabbling for a chair. "Good idea."

"You can have some time to think about this –" Leo started, only for Len to interject, "But in the meantime, you can't tell anyone."

Ray nodded slowly. "Because – the police don't know?"

Leo gave Len another Look, this one triumphant. Len rolled his eyes – fine, maybe Ray wasn't as slow as previously assumed.

"That's right," Leo said.

"And – wait. All those times you've gotten stopped and questioned..."

"He wasn't lying when he said they had the wrong man," Len drawled, looking quite pleased. "Just not being entirely truthful, either."

"You're a thief?"

"A very good one."

"...oh. That's a lot to take in."

"Why don't you take a few days off to think about it?" Leo suggested. "I know this isn't exactly what you thought was going on."

"I mean, I think I always kinda thought you were a thief?" Ray said. "Some sort of James Bond-the Saint kind of deal, with the fashion stuff as a cover. I mean, that many policemen in that many countries can't all be wrong. I'm kind of happy you aren't, actually."

Leo smirked. This wasn't going as badly as he had feared.

"I think I will take those days off, though," Ray said, rubbing his face. "I – I mean, I knew you were with Rory, and I thought, you know, maybe you were polyamourous –"

"Or willing to cheat, at least," Len muttered, causing Ray to flush.

"– but I admit that I didn't consider – I didn't even think about there being two of you."

"Okay," Leo said. "Totally fine. You need processing time. Just, you know..."

"Don't mention it to anyone?"

"Right. Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I understand. I think."

Exit Ray, stage left.

"Well," Leo said. "That went – not unlike a trainwreck."

"Sure thing, Jekyll."

"Shut up, Hyde."

"What do we do if he only likes you?" Len asked, abruptly changing gears. "And not me?"

"I don't know," Leo confessed. "I mean, when I thought Mick was just yours, I figured he'd just take up some of your free time and I'd find someone to fill mine, but now we both have Mick as well...there's a sadly limited number of hours in the day."

"Well, you were doing a pretty good job of interacting with him mostly during your work and a little bit after work hours –"

"Yes, but presumably he'll want more at some point. Wouldn't you?"

"We'll see, I guess," Len said, a little doubtfully. "When Mick and I are out on a job, maybe..?"

"Ah-ha!" Leo exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Len. "You are planning on working with Mick again, despite everything."

Leo made a face. He hated it when Leo was right, but he thought to himself that perhaps he was. Len had somehow slid back into thinking of jobs as Len-and-Mick instead of just his own, all without him noticing.

The healing power of time.

Leo, for his part, was just happy that Len would stop working with that awful pair of psychotic lovers he sometimes teamed up with, Scudder and Dillon. Leo never trusted them about anything, and certainly not with Len's safety, but he trusted them even less now that Len didn't have Mick to back him up.

"Not until he's all the way better," Len said, conceding the point. And yes, damnit Leo, he'd do something about Scudder and Dillon; there was no need to look at him with that half-worried-half-smug expression. "At least not any jobs in Central. Maybe some outside as a way of warming up..."

Leo grinned.

Len, realizing, grinned back.

Neither of them could resist a good set-up.

"You know,” Leo drawled, relishing the moment. “If you’re looking for an expert in warming things up –"

Len threw one of the couch pillows at Leo, which they both agreed was the correct response.

#dccoldwave #coldray #leonard snart #ray terrill #mick rory #leo snart #len snart #my fic #beginning of wisdom