Whumptober Prompt #2 And #6- Explosion And Dragged Away

Whumptober Prompt #2 and #6- Explosion and Dragged Away

@winedark-whump you wanted to know who Sam was, and how he died.  Your wish is granted.

A high pitched ringing was going back in forth from one side of his head to the other. He blinked slowly, the darkness mixing in with colors, until he could finally distinguish the sky from the buildings under it. The ringing shifted, assaulting both ears now that he could focus better. He tried to pull himself up, they needed to go… somewhere. He wasn’t sure exactly where but he knew it wasn’t here. Here had fallen debris all around, lots of little fires, tons of smoke, and was that blood? Not a good place to be. He tried to lift himself by his arms but fell to his left side. He looked down and saw dirt. He frowned. Dirt? Shouldn’t there be something there that’s not dirt? His eyes slowly traveled upwards and saw what was left of his left arm. Memory hit him like a freight train.

Ever since Arrow had lost her Hero, she’d become almost as fanatic as the rest of them. Phoenix and Mirror Mirror had just been causing a little mayhem, nothing too big, just a casual museum heist. They’d hoped not to run into any Heroes but together, they were unstoppable so it didn’t really matter. It seemed, however, that someone was dumb enough to try.

“Fucking lousy criminals.” Arrow sneered, Michael catching her first arrow from up in the rafters of the museum. He knew that was merely a warning shot, Arrow always hit her targets. “Always have to ruin everyone else’s day. This artwork is supposed to inspire love for humanity, for life. And taking it just leave those without. How cruel.”

Michael clenched his fist, her arrow exploding in his hand. He sneered right back at her, “Lousy Heroes. Always ruining our day.”

Arrow rolled her eyes and notched another arrow, the tip glinting in the light. Michael snarled, recognizing one of her cracked diamond arrows. Those were a bitch to get out, as if you weren’t careful, the diamond would shatter in you, forcing you to go to a hospital or risk having diamonds enter your bloodstream.

Michael grabbed a button out of his pocket, he always kept spares in case he needed a weapon, or more importantly, if one popped off his corset. He charged up, and threw it upwards. He wasn’t Arrow, with the gift of impossible accuracy, but he was a pretty good shot. She dived as the button exploded, using the rafters as a gymnastics bar, swinging herself down to their level.

He motioned for Sam to take the props and leave the ringers behind, while he charged straight at Arrow. He had to admit, some of the best parts of a classic museum heist is leaving the fake artwork behind so cops have no idea what they’ve stolen.

She jumped back at his straightforward attack, knowing he only needed one slip up to get all five fingers around her. He wouldn’t kill the little shit, but singeing her a little wouldn’t be too bad.

Suddenly, there was a rope around his neck.

“We’re taking this outside so you don’t break shit!” Arrow shouted, throwing him through a window.

His back hit the glass first, and he felt it crack underneath his weight. The shards embedded themselves in his back and legs as the force propelled him through the now shattered window. Somehow, he landed on his right foot before crumpling to the ground. Pain flirted with his body but never truly stayed in one place too long so he knew nothing was broken. Trying to ignore the bruises forming all over him, he pulled himself up, knowing in the back of his head it had been her ability to accurately throw him that had saved him from permanent damage.

A sharp cry brought his attention back to the shattered window. Sam had Arrow pinned to the edge, nearly succeeding in throwing her off. She threw a punch Sam easily deflected, tried to kick Sam’s feet out from under him which he easily blocked, then grabbed an arrow from her quiver and sprayed him with a foamy substance, which caused him to pull back and which sent herself over the edge. She grabbed onto one of the banners advertising the very painting Michael was stealing, flipping and landing without any injury to her perfect high-heels.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to break shit, you seemed to have no problem throwing me out a window.” Michael said, grabbing a couple pieces of broken glass around him. He charged them up slowly, knowing glass was a very dangerous weapon for him, as too much power would cause the glass to break and simply latch onto the nearest surface.

“Better to replace a window than mourn a priceless Monet.” Arrow fired back, notching another arrow.

“It’s Mo-ney, you idiot.” Michael jeered as it were a schoolyard tiff. “He was French, the T is silent.”

“Whatever!” She shouted back, clearly embarrassed. She fired her first arrow, easily and quickly notching another, and Michael threw his first piece. They hit each other straight on, resulting in a small explosion. Arrow narrowed her eyes at him, and smirked.

Then Sam hit her from behind with what was left of a nearby lamppost.

Arrow collapsed to the ground, seemingly unconscious. Michael stared.

Sam jogged over to him, and kissed him lightly. “Hey, babe.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow.

“Hmm? Oh that was easy. Once I copied her, I figured out her weakness. Hyperfocus. Don’t know if she’s ADHD but she can’t focus on the two of us at once without putting one of us on the backburner of her mind.”

“You’re the best, babe.” Michael smiled. “How’d I end up with such an amazing partner like you?”

“You’re a thief.” Sam smirked. “You stole my heart.”

“Would you still love me if I never gave it back?” Michael teased, the familiar words rolling off his tongue like raindrops off a leaf.

“I will always love you.” Sam whispered.

Michael gently kissed his fiancé. “I lo-”

Before he could finish, an arrow shaped like a boxing glove hit him in the mouth. A second with a net attached to it hit Sam, slamming him into a nearby wall. Sam’s head lolled haphazardly, blood trickling down a cut on his face.

“Sam!”

A punch to the face sent him reeling. A punch to the stomach caused him to double over. Arrow then brought her clasped fists on Michael’s neck, sending him to the ground with a grunt. A sharp stiletto dug itself into his left wrist, hitting the ligaments in between his hand and arm. Instinctively, he had let go of the piece of glass he was holding but found himself unable to stop the charge, as all five fingers were being forced upon the ground with the toe of her boot.

“You gotta let me up.” Michael gasped through the pain. “I can’t turn my power off.”

“Impossible.” Arrow snapped. “I’ve severed your median nerve and your transverse carpal ligament. There’s no way you can be using your gift. Even you’re human.”

The ground beneath the glass began to shift into a more fuchsia type color.

“Seriously!” Michael implored, panic starting to seep into his voice. “I don’t know how but I can’t turn it off! You gotta let me up!”

Arrow simply notched another arrow, this one tipped with what looked like a stunner.

“Liar.”

“Please!” Michael begged. The concrete beneath him began to crack, fuchsia energy building up underneath the surface.

“No!” Arrow screamed, and for a second, they locked eyes, and all Michael saw was a frightened child behind her mask. “All you criminals do is lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want. You can never trust a criminal. They’re incapable of trying to do anything good! Their hearts are black, their minds are corrupted, and their gifts are evil incarnate! Only those who use their gifts for the betterment of all humanity can truly have a heart!”

Unable to fight the growing power in his palm, Michael forced out a small breath. Small fissures raced down his hand, across his whole arm, bleeding raw energy. Arrow gasped at the sight, and looked at him, fear evident on her face. Helpless against what was about to happen, he simply gathered what was left of his strength. He had to release the energy before it got worse, and threatened Sam. Above all, if he got captured, if he got killed for killing a Hero, it didn’t matter. No matter what, he had to save Sam.

So, he simply… let go.

It seemed his left arm just couldn’t contain the power.

Ears still ringing, fires still burning, smoke still choking the breath out of his lungs, he forced himself to stand. He had to find Sam. They had to get out of there. He didn’t see Arrow but that doesn’t necessarily mean she was dead or gone. Heroes had a nasty habit of appearing out of nowhere when you least expect them. Horrifically off balance without his left arm, he turned to try and get a glimpse of the wall Sam had been thrown into.

He stumbled around for what seemed like an eternity, coughing up who knows what, nearly falling every two steps, until he finally found a collapsed wall with a familiar glove sticking out of it.

“Sam!” Michael shouted, and collapsed near his fiancé. Sam’s eyes were closed, with blood trickling out of his mouth, head leaning to his left side. “Sam, come on, wake up, we gotta get outta here.”

Sam didn’t stir.

You’re gonna make me do it, huh?” Michael gasped, dread settling into his stomach. “Fine but you don’t get to yell at me when we get home.”

Still nothing.

“Black is the color of my true love’s hair,” Michael crooned. He wasn’t the best singer but Sam always loved it. Michael had never done it in public. It was their little secret. “His face so soft and wondrous fair, the purest eyes, and the gentlest hands, I love the ground whereon he stands, I love the ground… C’mon Sam, wake up! Please wake up!”

He shook Sam by the shoulder, and Sam’s head rolled limply to the side.

Michael screamed.

The very same lamppost that he’d used to knock out Arrow was now embedded in his skull. Blood poured from the wound, slowly, as if the motion itself had no life left.

“Sam! Please, no, Sam, please don’t be dead, please, don’t be dead.” Michael screamed. “You can’t leave me here alone. Please, I love you, Sam, I love you! I love you more than life itself! Please. You can’t be gone, you just can’t!”

“Phoenix, c’mon, you gotta get out of here.” A new voice said, tugging on his jacket. This one sounded young, and very, very scared. “You gotta move! They’re going to arrest you!”

He ignored her.

“Please, Phoenix, you’ve got to move! This is my fault, not yours. You can’t stay here!”

He whipped around, his left arm dead weight. There stood Arrow, covered in blood, bruises but with an unblemished face. She looked shell-shocked, as if unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“Don’t die with him. Please.”

The “please” shattered what was left of his heart. A scream escaped his lips without conscious thought, a sound he never knew he could make, and he flung the broken-hearted shell of what used to be Michael Winters upon the chest of his dead love.

“No, I’m not letting you take the fall for this. This was my doing, not yours. We’re leaving now!”

With a strength Michael didn’t know was possible, Arrow lifted him under the arms and heaved. Michael, unexpectedly limp in her arms at first, lurched away from Sam.

“No! Don’t take me from him, please, he needs me, no, no!”

“I’m sorry!” Arrow shouted, but continued to haul him away.

Little fuchsia sparks flew past his fingers and out of his stump. “Stop! Let me go! Sam, I won’t leave you! I won’t leave you, Sam, I promise! Let me go!”

He fought against her hold but she had leverage against him so all he could do was skid his feet along the road and try to elbow her as she dragged him away. He got in one good shot to her ribs, eliciting a hard cry. He went to aim for that same spot.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, then he felt a strong electrostatic charge and finally succumbed back down into the never-ending darkness.

Whumptober Prompt #16- Pinned Down and #22- Hallucination

Tony had officially graduated from worried to scared.  Peter’s fever had been steadily climbing for hours since he arrived at the Compound.  May had called last night, panicking as she knew she couldn’t take him to the hospital where she worked, but he had gotten sick the previous day and he wasn’t getting better.  It had started as a simple cold but overnight, it seemed, it had turned into full-blown viral fever.  He had immediately contacted Shuri, as the Princess of Wakanda had immediately taken to Peter once they had finally met, and sent her everything she asked for.  But Shuri hadn’t found an antiviral yet, hadn’t even gotten a fever reducer to him yet.  And Peter’s fever kept climbing.  So Tony was scared, teetering on the edge of terrified.

“Have to… have to…”  Peter mumbled, lost in the throes of fever.

“Have to what, Pete?”  Tony asked, trying to rearrange the wet washcloths on Peter.  It felt like they’d been forced back into the stone age with Peter’s metabolism burning through antivirals like butter in a microwave.  But he had to keep trying, no matter how old the remedy was.  He had to try and cool Peter down.

“Have to find… find…”

“Find?  Find what, Peter?”  Tony murmured.

“Danger… spi…”

“You don’t have to be Spider-man right now, Pete.”  Tony whispered.  “No one is in danger.”

“Safe?”  Peter sagged against his pillows, exhausted.

“Yeah, we’re all safe.”  Tony soothed.  “Morgan’s safe, May is safe, I’m safe.”

Peter’s brow furrowed.  “Mor-gan?”

Tony stopped.  Peter’s fever was cooking the memories right out of his head.

“Yeah, Morgan.”  Tony answered.  “She’s with Pep, upstate.  We didn’t want to scare her by letting her see you like this.  We knew you wouldn’t want that.”

That had been a hard won battle.  Morgan had not wanted to stay at home, she’d wanted to be with her brother.  Since Tony had all but adopted Peter after surviving the snap, Morgan had taken to calling Peter her brother.  No one, not Pepper, not May, not himself, not even Peter had corrected her. 

“Ben, who’s Morgan?”  Peter asked, his confused voice sending ice through Tony’s veins.

Tony had obviously looked into Peter Parker’s life before recruiting him to what eventually became known as Team Iron Man.  He hadn’t wanted to go in blind to someone who may not agree with him.  He’d seen the scholarship to Midtown Tech, the parents dying in a plane crash as a child, being raised by a single Aunt after his uncle had died in a robbery.  Once Peter had become a legitimate intern at Stark Industries, and he’d met with May to discuss how Peter was going to be continuing Spider-man activities, he’d learned the rest of the story.  May had told him that Peter had been there when his Uncle Ben died, that the man had bled out in his arms.  That Peter blamed himself for his own inaction, though it had been Ben who threw himself in front of Peter.  It explained why Peter was so fueled to make sure Queens was safe, even if it meant breaking curfew to do it.  Peter hadn’t wanted anyone to suffer like he did, not when he knew he had the power to save people.

“Never mind, buddy.”  Tony said, unsure if agreeing with Peter’s delirium or fighting it was the right way to go.  He had to read more books on high fevers when this was over.

“Ben, where are we?”  Peter’s confusion grew and he tried to sit up.  “Ben, we can’t afford this.”

“It’s okay, it’s already paid for.”  Tony hushed, using the best way to calm Peter down that he knew.  Peter could easily be assuaged if their money problems were not in the picture.  “Uh, Tony Stark is paying for it.  Says he wants to give back to the community.”

That wasn’t technically a lie so he figured he wasn’t adding to Peter’s delusions.

“Mister Stark?”  Peter’s childish voice, one he never heard unless Peter was drop dead exhausted or injured, was slurred and slow.  “Ben, did I get to meet him?”

“He’s… around.”  Tony said, trying to find the quickest loopholes he could.  “I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”

Peter smiled, as if meeting his childhood hero was all he wanted in the world.  “Ben that would be so cool.”

“I know, buddy.”  Tony brushed a hand through Peter’s hair.  It seemed he had already given in to Peter’s delusions by accepting his role as Ben.  “I’m sure Tony Stark would love to meet you too.”

Peter giggled lightly, sending himself into a coughing fit.  Tony wiped away the phlegm, trying to ease Peter onto his side, to take pressure off his lungs.

 “‘M sorry.”  Peter mumbled, seemingly embarrassed.

“Please, Pete, I’ve had to do far worse.”  Tony said.

Peter’s brow furrowed.

“Ben?  You… never call me Pete.  You never…”  Peter frowned up at Tony, his glazed eyes full of mistrust and fear.  His breathing quickened, pushing Tony away.  “You’re not Ben.”

Oh, shit.

“Peter, it’s me.  It’s Mister Stark.”

Peter shoved at Tony, nearly knocking him over.  Even in Peter’s fevered state, his spider-strength shone through.

“Ben?!?  BEN?!?”  Peter screamed, trying to scramble away from Tony.

“It’s okay, kid, you’re alright, Ben’s here, I’m right here, buddy.”  Tony tried but Peter kept struggling to stand.  “Peter, you have to calm down or you’re going to hurt yourself more!”

Tony had never wished for May Parker’s presence more than he was now, but May was at work, unable to take the days off.  Next time, he was just paying her to miss the day.

“Ben??”  Peter shouted, seemingly unable to even recognize Tony’s voice, still struggling.

“FRIDAY, call Steve and Sam, get them down here, now!”  Tony ordered, trying to get Peter to lay back down.  “And call Shuri and ask what the hell is taking so long!”

Not three minutes of wrestling Peter from getting out of bed later, Steve sprinted into the room, Sam right behind him.

“I can’t calm him down!”  Tony shouted, grabbing for Peter’s hand which had been swatting at him.

“Steve, help Tony.”  Sam ordered.  Out of the entire Avengers, Sam had the most medical training as a counsellor for PTSD and other medical discharges so in case of mental breakdowns, Sam was always placed in charge.  “He’s gonna hurt himself more if he keeps trying to get up.”

Steve, ever the good soldier, immediately went to Peter’s other side, climbing onto the bed beside him.  Together, they were able to wrangle Peter back in bed, effectively pinning him down.

“No, please, don’t, Ben, Ben help me, please, stop, no, no!”  Peter’s cries for help tore at Tony’s heart, welling tears up in his eyes, but Tony had to stay strong.  He had to help Peter because Peter couldn’t help himself.

“Stark, what set this off?”  Sam asked, holding Peter’s legs as best as he could without getting kicked.

“He was hallucinating, thought I was his Uncle Ben.”  Tony answered, trying to keep his voice stable.  “Lost him as a kid, died in front of him.  He figured out I wasn’t Ben because I called him Pete but couldn’t remember who I was so he panicked.”

Peter suddenly went limp in their arms, still muttering pleas and distress calls.

“Peter?”  Tony called.  “Peter?!?”

“Please, I just want him back.”  Peter mumbled, completely incoherent.  “Please.”

“It’s okay, Peter.”  Sam hushed, stroking his leg in a circular motion, trying to ground the young teen.  “Just breathe.  All you need to worry about right now is breathing.”

Peter seemed to respond to Sam’s voice.  “Wha-?”

“Just breathe, Peter.”  Sam instructed, keeping up his ministrations.

Steve silently offered to take Sam’s place and Sam nodded, switching with Steve so now Steve was pinning Peter’s legs down, rubbing one hand up and down his calf, and Sam was beside Peter, with easier access to the teen who was now all but resting against Tony’s chest.

“It’s okay, Peter, just breathe.”  Sam exaggerated his own deep breathing, clear enough for Peter to hear.

Miraculously, Peter started to breathe in time with Sam.

“That’s good, Peter, that’s good.  Just like that.”

Tony felt brave enough to gently thread his fingers through Peter’s hair.

Sam nodded at him.  “Do you feel that, Peter?  That’s Mister Stark and Mister Captain Rogers.  You know them.”

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, still glazed over but Tony’s relief, a flash of recognition in them.

“M’ster Stark?”  Peter whispered.

“Yeah, buddy that’s me.”  Tony smiled, and Steve and Sam relaxed their grips on the kid.

“Yo’r cryin’.”  Peter mumbled, frowning.

Tony hadn’t even noticed.  “It’s okay, buddy.  You just focus on breathing.”

“Boss, incoming call from Princess Shuri.”  FRIDAY announced.

“We got him.”  Sam said, already moving Peter into a more comfortable position with Steve’s help.   “You take that.”

Tony nodded, and although he hated to leave Peter, he hurried out the door.  The faster he got this over with, the faster he could return to Peter.

“Yes, your Highness?”  Tony called out, answering Shuri’s call.

“I’m on my way.”  Shuri replied, all business.  “I’ve got an antiviral that should last for his system and help bring down his fever.”

Tony slumped in relief.  “Thank God.  How soon can you be here?”

“I’ll arrive in an hour, max.”  Shuri said.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”  Tony said.  “I’ve got to get back to Peter.”

“Go.”  Shuri all but ordered him.  “See you soon.”

Tony walked back into the room, where Peter seemed to be sleeping, with Sam and Steve sitting on the edge of his bed and computer chair respectively.

“Shuri’ll be here in an hour.”  Tony relayed.  “Said she’s got meds for him.”

Steve nodded.  “I’ll wait for her on the landing pad.”

Tony nodded, and settled in with Sam in case Peter woke up.

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 #3- Delirium and Alt. Prompt #10 Nightmare

Hey guys!  Me again!  I have no idea how long my blog will stay unflagged but... I’m trying my best here.  I’ll link it to AO3 so you can read it there if you can’t see it here.  Until I inevitably get flagged again, enjoy some Coldflash.

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886941

Len soaked the cloth back in the water basin he’d grabbed.  Barry moaned, trying to fight Len off but his arms were so weak, Len easily pushed them back down.

“Hush, Barry, it’s okay.”  Len said, trying his best to be soothing.  “This will help you.”

“So cold.”  Barry whined at him through glazed eyes.  Len doubted he had any true idea where he was or what was going on.  Barry hadn’t even recognized him yet and it had been two very long days.

“You’re too hot, Barry.”  Len murmured, as even for a speedster, his fever was way too high.  When he’d first agreed to do this, Dr. Snow had explained to him that a speedster, due to their biological makeup to accommodate that kind of speed, ran at a higher temperature than normal humans.  She had told him to add an extra two degrees to what was considered normal, as Barry’s usual resting temperature was one hundred degrees.

Barry closed his eyes again, fading back into unconsciousness.

Len was tempted to call Dr. Snow again but she still couldn’t do anything, not with the rate this disease could spread.  When he had first returned to Central City after basically being blown up and reconstituted, looking for a certain speedster to remind him of what was normal and what he knew, Flash hadn’t been out to play.  That had frustrated him.  Yes, he liked it when he got the money he wanted but the thrill was part of the game.  He wanted to toy with Flash, gamble with his life, always wanting to one up himself and Flash.  After three heists with no sight of the speedster, he had gotten fed up with being ignored.  So he went Star Labs, blaming his back-from-the-dead experience for his impulsivity, denying to himself that he could potentially have missed Barry, storming the Cortex, demanding to know why the great Flash was no longer paying attention to his number one nemesis.  He had found an unconscious Barry on a medical bed, and Dr. Snow and Cisco Ramon in Hazmat suits with thick gloves hovering over him.  They had explained that a disease, specifically designed to only affect metahumans, had been released by the latest Big Bad, a doctor who had lost a child to Zoom’s metahumans terrorizing Central City.  But when Flash had taken him down, he had been exposed to the airborne virus.  And since both Dr. Snow and Ramon had the metahuman gene, as Killer Frost and Vibe apparently, they couldn’t help him without risking exposure.  The virus worked fast, as Barry’s healing had been working overtime, leaving him going in and out of consciousness, unable to retain information.  If they were exposed, the virus would kill them before they could do anything to stop it.  That had also frustrated Len.  Saying that Barry would owe him a favor, Len had offered an old safe-house of his, one he actually owned and could sacrifice, saying Mick would love to see the old place burn. That way, they could actually focus on finding a way to cure the virus instead of fumbling around in Hazmat suits and Barry would be in a place that wouldn’t expose anyone else, as Len wasn’t a metahuman.  He hadn’t been expecting it, but Team Flash had been desperate enough to agree to it.

That had been two days ago but it felt like a week.  Barry’s fever hadn’t gone down the entire time.  He’d barely slept or ate, as getting Barry to eat or cool down was nigh impossible.  Dr. Snow had given Len very specific instructions on how to take care of Barry, including the few antivirals they had, but nothing she gave him was working.  So he had resorted to trying to cool the speedster down manually, for lack of a better word.  Dr. Snow had told him an ice bath would be too risky, as it could actually increase body temperature and if Barry’s body slowed down due to the cold, the virus could kill him faster as his healing factor, the only thing they truly had going for them right now, could cease entirely.  So cool water, not cold water, and washcloths since Barry was clearly in no state to take a bath on his own.  Len did the best he could as more and more time went by as Dr. Snow and Ramon went without calling with a cure.  The antivirals weren’t helping him, his healing was in overdrive, his fever was sky high, and he couldn’t keep a thought in his head for any length of time.  He was starting to get scared.

“Hey.”  A small voice brought him out of his thoughts.  Barry was awake again, staring at Len in confusion.

“Hey yourself.”  Len said, laying another washcloth across his forehead.

“‘M I dreaming?”  Barry murmured, glazed eyes staring into Len’s soul.

“No, you’re not.”  Len answered.  If this had been any other situation, he would’ve teased Barry but Barry’s mind was unable to process teasing so he didn’t.  “But you do owe me one.”

For some reason, Barry smiled.

“Yo-r alive?”  Barry whispered, his hand gently reaching for Len’s face.

Len was too stunned to to stop him and Barry gently cupped his face, though it was as graceful as a smack in the face.

“You’re alive.”  Barry looked on the verge of tears.  “Said you died.”

Len realized that the Legends must have told Barry of Len’s death before they found him again.  He had been dead for about six months after all.

“I’m alive, I’m right here.”  Len said.  “I just need to cool you down.”

Len wrung out another washcloth, hoping to wipe away some of the hot sweat Barry was soaking into the sheets.  Barry hadn’t let go of him yet.  When the first drops of cooler water hit Barry’s skin, he hissed.  “Cold.”

“It’s not, Barry.”  Len repeated, continuing his work, wiping down Barry’s collarbone and chest.  “You’re just too hot.”

“Hot?”  Barry frowned.  “Where’s Mick?”

“Probably off saving the timestream.”  Len replied, torn.  This was the longest conversation he had had with Barry since this whole thing started, but he certainly wasn’t coherent for the damn thing if he thought ‘too hot’ meant Heatwave.

“Save… save city.”  Barry said, his grip on comprehension loose.  “Too cold.  Too hot.”

Barry smacked him in the face trying to get up.  Len pushed him back down.

“City’s already saved.”  Len said.  “It’s okay, you did it.”

“Did it?” Barry asked, his green eyes wide, trusting and fevered.

“You did it.”  Len assured him.  “Stopped the bad guys.  Saved the city.  Everyone’s okay.”

“Dreaming.”  Barry slurred, tears welling up in his eyes again.  “Have to be dreaming.”

“Dreaming what, Barry?”  Len asked.

“You.”  Len stopped.  He hadn’t been expecting that.  “Not okay.  You’re gone.  My fault.  You’re gone and you’re not coming back.  Miss you.”

“You miss me?”  Len asked, floored.

“Want you back.”  Barry kept going.  “Miss your voice.  Miss your eyes.  Miss you.”

A few tears slipped out.  Len gently brushed them away with his thumb.

“I… missed you too.”  Len admitted.  With Barry as he was, he stood no chance of remembering anything Len said.  Might as well speak the truth.  “I missed you a lot.”

“You did?”  Barry asked, his tearful eyes glistening.

“Traveling through time is… incredible.”  Len said slowly.  “Seeing things I never thought possible.  I was a cowboy, a spy against Russia, and hell, apparently, even a bomb to stop the Time Master assholes…  But as much fun as I had, stealing from everyone, breaking out of prisons, and saving the world from a homicidal maniac, I always wanted to come home.  To you.”

“Love you.”  Barry’s eyes fluttered, his crying spell having taken all the energy he had.

Len stared in shock as Barry fell back asleep.  Len had to be dreaming.  Having a nightmare.  Or the virus fried his brain.  No way he could’ve just admitted that he loved Len.  It was impossible.  They hadn’t even been dating.  Sure, yes, they had a relationship filled with bantering, and trust, and an… admitted very unusual amount of sexual tension.  But so many Heroes had that with their nemeses.  Batman has Catwoman, he’d met Selina Kyle briefly once, she was just like him, and Green Arrow had slept with more than one of his villainesses, if Sarah’s account was to be believed.  And Len, while maybe not as much of recurring villain as Reverse Flash or Zoom, was Flash’s number one nemesis.  He had the ultimate blackmail on him, he had betrayed him before, though, only to have Barry come back to him once again.  However, that had not been his fault.  Lisa had gone to Team Flash for help, not him.  And when he trusted Barry to save his sister, when he didn’t kill him on his father’s orders, despite the risk to Lisa’s life, it had been because he believed Barry could save everyone that night.  And yes, he had approved Barry as a visitor when he was in prison for his father’s murder, but that was simply to thank the man for saving his sister.  That couldn’t have been because Barry was in love with him.  Barry was like that with others who he saw good in.  It hadn’t just been him.  It couldn’t have just been him.

Len started counting seconds, one of his main ways to get out of a panicked spiral.  Whether Barry loved him or not, he still had a job to do.  Barry loving him made no effect on making sure Barry didn’t die.  When he had first offered this safehouse, he had already known in his mind he would do whatever he could to help Barry.  Besides, he couldn’t get a proper answer out of the hero unless he survived, mental faculties intact.  He needed himself out of his anxiety, so did Barry.

Once he’d gotten himself back in control, he realized the washcloths now matched Barry’s temperature.  So he got himself back into his task at hand, taking care of the speedster.  He replaced the washcloths, and replaced the pillow underneath Barry’s head, wanting to throw the pillowcase in the laundry.  The sheets were next, as Barry’s sweat had soaked through them.  Len worked meticulously, thinking only of his duty and not dwelling on anything personal.  As he finished putting the sheets in the laundry and setting the washer, he returned to Barry.

Barry was squirming with what little energy he had, moaning almost incoherently.

“Barry, it’s alright, you’re alright.”  Len murmured, in the voice he used to comfort Lisa back when they were children.

“Snart, no, no please,”  Barry moaned.  “No, no, no, don’t, don’t, please.”

Of course he was dreaming about Len.  Made sense given his fevered brain was trying to process seeing what he considered a dead man.

“Wake up, Barry.”  Len whispered.  “You’re okay, wake up, Barry.”

Barry’s breathing picked up at Len’s voice, and his face screwed up in pain.  “Come back, don’t leave me, please, Snart, Lenny, Lenny!”  His legs kicked out, tangling the sheets, his arms weakly reaching out in random directions, as if grasping at air.

“Barry, kid, wake up!  Wake up!  It’s just a nightmare!”  Len shouted, trying to shake his shoulders.

“NO, LEN!”  Barry came awake with a scream, jolting up in bed.  Len caught him by the chest, with Barry sinking into him as he became conscious.

“It’s alright, Barry, you’re alright.”  Len whispered, reaching out and petting Barry’s hair.  It was sweaty and greasy, but Len’s fingers were almost on fire at the feeling.  He felt a desire previously unknown to him ignite, one he’d worked so hard to hide from others and from himself.

“Snart?”  Barry asked, sounding coherent but exhausted.

“Call me Len, kid.”  Len mumbled into Barry’s ear, thinking if he’d admitted to loving the criminal, he may as well call him by his first name.

“You’re alive?”  Barry asked, and Len knew he was back to square one.

“I’m alive.”  Len stated simply, fighting the urge to burrow into Barry’s hair and never come out.

Barry didn’t say anything else and neither did Len.  Neither moved.

Len’s phone rang, startling them both.

“I have to answer that.”  Len said, gently setting Barry down on the bed.  “News?”

“We have a cure.”  Dr. Snow sounded as exhausted as Len felt but triumphant.  “We’re almost at your place.”

“I’ll be by the door.”  Len said, hanging up.  They had previously “met” there before, to give Len more antivirals once Barry had already gone through his first regiment.  They’d dropped it off on the doorstep and Len had only opened the door after they were back inside their van.

Len waited by the door, just in case.  Dr. Snow and Ramon arrived within five minutes, hoping out of their car.  They dropped a small package and a small note on his doorstep before running back to their car.  He snatched it up without further ado.

Snart-

This cure should absolutely work for Barry, I designed it specially for him, and I tested it on samples of his DNA that we’ve used in the past.  But since this cure is for Barry alone, we can’t give it to him ourselves.  I haven’t designed a cure for all metahumans, the virus keeps evolving to affect certain powers differently, so if I get infected, we’re back to square one.  Call me immediately, I’m still waiting outside.  I’ll walk you through administering it.

Caitlin Snow

He did as she asked, and she gave him exact step-by-step directions he followed to the letter.

“How will I know if it works?”  Len asked, once the cure was in Barry’s sleeping system.

“His fever should break within the hour.”  Dr. Snow replied.  “He should become lucid after that.”

“Great.  You’ll take him after that then, I’m sure.”  Len sighed.

“Actually, I’m not so sure.”  Dr. Snow said hesitantly.  “Because this thing evolves so quickly, I need to make sure that Star Labs is cleared before we bring him back.  If another strain has evolved that I can’t fight, we’re back to square one.  And I’m not even sure when exactly Barry won’t be contagious anymore.  I needed to focus on curing Barry before this killed him before I worried about how long someone could be contagious.”

“So how long do I have to keep him here?”  He asked.

“One more day and I should have all the answers I need.”  Dr. Snow said.

“Well that’s just peachy.”  Len muttered, but part of him was thankful.  He could easily corner Barry and get the answers he needed out of him, as he literally couldn’t leave.

“If someone else needs to come in and watch him-” Dr. Snow started.

“No,” Len sighed, “I’ve already come this far with his shit.  You’ll just owe me another one.”

“Snart-” Dr. Snow said.

“Relax, doc,  I won’t hurt him.”  Len said, dipping back into his Captain Cold voice.  “I can handle one more day.  Oh, and order me some food.  You’re buying.”

“Fine.”  Dr. Snow huffed.  “Is Big Belly Burger okay?  Barry needs a lot of calories to regain his strength.  More so than a normal human.”

Len agreed, rattled off his order, and hung up.

After waiting for forty agonizing minutes, and after finally dragging himself away to  make himself a cup of coffee, Barry finally woke up.

“Snart?”  Barry muttered, sitting up slowly.  “You’re alive?”

“For the millionth time, yes.”  Len said, easily slipping back into Captain Cold.  “And you’ve saved the city, Mick isn’t here, and no, you’re not dreaming.”

“I take it we’ve had this conversation before.”  Barry said.

“Perhaps once or twice.”  Len said.  “How are you feeling?”

“Um, like jelly.  Actually like jelly got hit by a truck”  Barry replied, as if testing out his body for the answer.  He finally began to realize his surroundings.  “Why?  Wait, where am I?  When did I get here?”

“Your friends dropped you off, don’t you remember that?”  Len said, deciding to screw with him a bit.  He had certainly missed it.  “Something about being unable to resist my charms anymore and them giving me a gift for coming back from the dead?  I mean, why do you think you’re not wearing pants?”

Barry sputtered, as red as his suit, looking outraged.  “That didn’t happen!  Now what really happened, Snart, or I’m going to run right back to Star Labs.”

“You’re so easy to toy with, Scarlet.”  Len smiled, enjoying himself for the first time since he’d come back to Central City.  “No, apparently, when you went after the metahuman virus, you stopped the bad guy but got the virus.  Since both if your lovely science friends are metahumans, I graciously offered an old safe house that Mick could burn down when you were cured.  Dr. Snow said you had to stay at least a day more so she can make sure you’re not contagious anymore.  You owe me, by the way.”

Barry took in the information in silence.  “How did you survive?  Ray said you died.”

Len groaned.  Of course it had been Raymond who spilled the beans.

“I didn’t so much survive as something put me back together.”  Len admitted.  “What I destroyed was basically time itself, and time has a way of functioning like it wants to, no matter what who tries to write life otherwise.  And it wanted me back.”

Barry nodded.  “What did it feel like?”

Len frowned.  “I’m not sure I can put it in words.  It felt…”

“Like a thrumming all over your body?”  Barry offered.  “Like a force, a force that felt like an eternity and one second all at once?  Like every nerve on fire but no pain?”

“Something like that.”

“The speed force is what I call it, I think that’s it name.”  Barry explained at Len’s awed look.  “It’s how I got my powers, how all speedsters use their powers.”

“I’m not a speedster.”  Len said.  “I’ve never had any powers.”

“I’m not sure how to explain it.”  Barry rubbed his hand on his neck.

The doorbell rang.

“Ah, food’s here.  Courtesy of your Dr. Snow.”  Len said, tipping the young man generously.

They ate in tensioned silence.  It wasn’t quite uncomfortable, but Barry definitely knew something was different between them.  Len had to admit though, Barry could put food away like a champ.  He must’ve eaten five double cheeseburgers before Len finished his first one.

“All right, I can’t take this anymore.”  Barry said.  Len cocked an eyebrow.  “There’s something you’re hiding from me.  I know you, Snart, don’t try to deny it.”

“Call me Len, kid.”  Len said.  “I’ll not have this conversation with that name.”

Confusion took over Barry’s face.  “Len, then.”

“We haven’t been on one date and yet you love me.”  Len stated.

Barry blushed, and stuttered out, “What?  What- what makes you sa- think that?”

“You told me.”  Len said easily, taking a drink from his coffee.  “You told me not five hours ago, right on that very bed.”

He wasn’t sure how, but Barry got even redder.  “I did?”

“Yep.”  Len popped the ‘p’.  “I have to admit, your fever was at its zenith.”

“I was just sick.”  Barry said defensively, entirely too quick to latch onto the excuse.  “Nothing more!  Totally just a fever dream, I probably thought you were Iris or Patty.”

“No you certainly did not.”  Len said, starting to get annoyed at Barry’s obvious lie and his heart ached.  “You were talking to me.  You said you missed me and you thought it was your fault.  You did not mistake me, Barry.  You said you loved me.”

Barry’s mouth opened, as if going to lie again but he closed it.

“I don’t think I’m in love with you.”  Barry admitted.

“But there is something there?”  Len easily saw through his lie of omission.

Barry blushed harder, ducking his head.

“Just get it over with already.”  Barry muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?”  Len asked.

“Get it over with!”  Barry said, fresh tears brewing.  “Laugh at me, kick me out, leave me here alone, just do it already!  Stop staring at me like that, I know I fell in love with someone who wouldn’t love me back, it’s a curse for me, I know!  I know you don’t love me back so just make fun of me or kick me out or whatever!  Just do it!”

Len stared at him, completely in shock.

Barry groaned.  “Look, thanks for letting me crash here.  But I think I’ll be better off somewhere else.”

He made to stand and wobbled a bit as he put weight on his feet.

“Sit back down.”  Len said, harsher than he intended.  Barry froze but stayed standing.  “Seriously, Scarlet, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Len easily moved him back to sitting on the bed.

“You never cease to surprise me, Scarlet.”  Len said, finally regaining control of his thoughts.  “I’m speechless.”

Barry stared warily at him.

“Why?”  Len finally asked, sitting down beside him.  “I’ve been nothing but cruel to you.”

“That’s not true.”  Barry said.  “I think it started when your father put that bomb in Lisa’s neck.  You kept pushing me away, and I realized it wasn’t because you hated me.  You didn’t want me there because you didn’t him to hurt me.  I heard you, you know.  After he ‘shot’ me.  I heard the real grief in your voice, even if in that moment, you chose your sister over me, which I completely understand.  And then you didn’t shoot me.  He told you to, threatened Lisa’s life, and you didn’t shoot me.  I mean, yeah, you shot your father but, off the record, I know exactly why you did.  I’ve wanted to kill Reverse Flash plenty of times for murdering my mother.  I just… didn’t.  And then you let me visit you in prison, more than once! And then, when Mardon and Jesse broke you out, you totally could’ve taken advantage of that, of me, but you didn’t  You even went so far as to warn me!  I know you said that it was because of Lisa, but it didn’t feel like that to me.  And then, you joined the Legends and Ray told me you died a hero. You died a hero and one of the last things I told you was there was good in you, that you could be more than just a thief.”

“I joined the Legends because Hunter played to my ego, and I thought I would be the smartest person in the room at all times.”  Len admitted.  “I thought I could steal from the greatest treasures of time and be remembered as the greatest thief of all time.  If I’m being perfectly honest, I didn’t even think about you until we left and I started to miss you.”

Barry turned to look at him.

“You missed me?”  Barry asked, and a small crack broke through Len’s heart.

“Since it seems we’re both baring our feelings today,” Len rolled his eyes, “yes I did.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“Are you going back to the Legends?”  Barry asked, breaking the silence.

“Eventually, I suppose.”  Len shrugged.  “I’m not really sure if I have a place in this world anymore.  When I first returned to Central City, I wanted nothing to do with them.  Now, I understand why Mick stayed with them.  I’ll end up going back, but probably not for a while.”

“So you’ll stay here?”  Barry asked.  “At least for a little while?”

Len nodded.

“Good.  That’s good.”  Barry said, awkwardness radiating off him like a neon sign.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

“Are you gonna ask me or are you gonna make me ask you?”  Len said, unable to take it anymore.

“Ask?”  Barry repeated.

Len rolled his eyes.  “You want me to stay because you’ve got a thing for me.  I missed you while I was galavanting through time.  There’s some obvious sexual tension when we fight.  Time, or the Speed Force, whatever you wanna call it, I think it gave me back to you.  And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but a… partnership between us could be,” Len shoved down the image somehow now vivid in his head, Barry happy, himself smiling, lying in bed together just enjoying life, “mutually beneficial.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”  Barry asked, as if Len had asked him if he wanted a million dollars.  Disbelief, confusion, but underneath, excitement, happiness, and so, so hopeful.

Len nodded jerkily.  Mentally, he made a pact with himself.  Lisa and Mick could never know, as they’d know how ridiculous he was acting and would make fun of him for the rest of their lives.

“I’d like that.”  Barry’s quiet admission, like he couldn’t believe his eyes made up for how terrible a flirt he was being.

“Peachy.”  He said, on instinct.

Barry laughed tiredly.

“You should get some rest.”  Len said.  “You’ve been out for the better part of two days, and that was just with me.”

Barry nodded slowly, laying back down.  “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Len nodded, resisting the urge to chuckle at Barry’s blush.  “Go to sleep, Scarlet.  I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Whumptober Prompt #10 Unconscious

Hey guys!  I’m back!  I slept through a lot of yesterday, my antihistamines can make me drowsy, but I did manage to finish this one!  I’m gonna post #10 and then #11 a bit later I will be unable to post tomorrow for the most part.  So enjoy two prompts today!  Let’s start with some Lucifer!

Lucifer wasn’t sleeping.  That she saw clearly.  It wasn’t as bad as the week long bender he’d gone on when Maze tricked him into thinking he was flying and saving people in his sleep, but this was definitely up there.  Hair disheveled, suit wrinkled, eyeliner smudged, eyes red, occasionally going off on seriously crazy tangents, he hadn’t called her Booth yet but she was waiting for it.

“Chloe?  You okay?” Ella asked, concerned.

Chloe snapped back to herself.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.  I was just thinking.”

“About?”  Ella asked.  “You think of a new lead?”

She looked about as tired as Chloe felt.  This case, a serial killer who left biblical verses in the victim’s blood, had everyone working overtime.  She’d even found Dan asleep at his desk, when she and Lucifer went to give him another cup of coffee.  Lucifer, in a surprisingly kind move, had simply adjusted him so he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck while sleeping.  And since Lucifer didn’t “need” sleep, he was helping with everything he could.  When one of them collapsed, he made them as comfortable as he could, and took over what they were doing.

The problem was, “The Adversary” as he called himself, left almost no evidence and there was very little connection between the victims, his last one being a young, single mother, a girl just barely twenty-one with a one year old son left to foster care.  The only thing that connected all of his victims was the biblical messages he wrote, all quotes by the Adversary about testing the human soul, each of which incensed Lucifer more and more as time went on.  According to him, Lucifer was “The Adversary”, as before his Fall.  His Father had sent him to test the humans He deemed worthy, or “the ones He wanted to write the bloody books”.  Lucifer, already infuriated that someone had the nerve to call himself a version of the Devil, had grown angrier with each killing, saying that when he tested someone, it had never been so senseless.  Lucifer had admitted the day before, more than likely completely unaware of it, that when he did his Father’s work to test humans, he knew if they passed the test, He would reward them for being faithful and never straying.  And if they failed, he knew his Father was right to test them as they weren’t living honestly.  But this had no reward at the end of it.  Their souls would ascend to Heaven or fall to Hell and that was it.  No eternal reward, no true test of character, just a madman with a knife and not being fast enough to run away, or in one case, not being able to withstand blunt force trauma.  That wasn’t punishment, that wasn’t testing someone.  That was just senseless death.

“I’m worried about Lucifer.”  Chloe said.

“Yeah I know.”  Ella agreed.  “I swear, I know he’s “the Devil” but seriously, he needs to take a break or he’s going to crash so hard.

Chloe sighed. “I don’t think he will until we catch this guy.”

“Yeah, he always take these biblical cases so hard.”  Ella replied.  “I mean, I know he’s really into the character, but he’s got to take a break sometime.  I mean, he’s only human.”

One of Ella’s machines beeped.  Ella went to check it.  Chloe stopped in her tracks, reminding herself that Ella did not know the truth.  Chloe had once tried to slyly suggest it to her, but Ella had just laughed it off.  Whether she wasn’t ready to face the truth, or just didn’t comprehend was Chloe was really trying to say, she didn’t know.

She walked back over to where Lucifer was looking over some surveillance video on her computer.  “Hey.”

His head snapped up three seconds too late.  “Detective.  Any luck?”

“Not yet.”  She said, and saw his shoulders slump a little further.

“Well.  Must press on, then.”  Lucifer gave her a shaky smile.

“Lucifer, you need to rest.”  She tried.

“I’m the Devil, darling.”  Lucifer recited by rote, already immersed back in his current fixation. “I don’t need rest.”

“Guys!”  Ella came running out of her office, holding a folder in her hands.  “I know how he’s picking his victims!”

Once Ella had figured out they had all had the same type of alcohol in their stomachs, which all but hid the traces of a roofie type drug in their system, she was able to trace the connection that they all went to a bar three hours before they died, and due to the radius of the killings, she was able to pin down five potential bars that sold that particular mix of liquor.  Financial statements showed that two victims, the ones who didn’t pay cash, went to the Heavenleaf Bar.  Once that bar was found, it was a phone call for a list of employees away from a cross reference between employees who had shifts when the victims were there and who was off shift when the victims were killed.  That had only left one name- Abe McMillion.  A man who heard his victims complain to their bartender, the shoulder who was supposed to help them ease their sorrows and instead shoved a knife into their body for their ‘sins’.  A man with no history of mental illness, who simply hated the people he served.  Chloe would never admit it, but she felt a sick sense of satisfaction when Lucifer revealed his true face, she had long grown used to it, though his scars still made her worried about him.  McMillion had been reduced to a blubbering mess, saying the religious aspect was to throw the police off his trail.  He hadn’t even really read the Bible.  Chloe arrested him, and sent him to booking where he could be processed.

“Lucifer?”  Chloe said, gently reaching out to his shoulder.

Lucifer startled.  “Yes, Detective?”

“Head home.”  Chloe said.  “The new lieutenant gave us a half day for tomorrow, we can finish paperwork later.  You should rest.”

Lucifer gave her a small smile.  “You need to go home as well, darling.  The spawn hasn’t seen you in a while.  Don’t mind me.”

“Trixie is with Dan for the night.”  Chloe said, having already asked Dan who jumped at the chance to see his daughter on a non-designated Daddy-Daughter night.  When he asked why, she simply replied that she needed to drive Lucifer home as he was in no shape to do so.  Dan had understood that, and the trouble driving Lucifer meant for everyone involved.  “Let me drive you home.”

“Detective, I adore you in every way.”  Lucifer smiled his usual flirtatious smile. “But you are not driving my car.  No one drives my car but me.”

“Except Trixie.”  Chloe muttered, pulling his attention back to when he had made a deal with Trixie to get him into the “progressive” school for driving lessons.

Lucifer frowned.  “A deal is a deal, Detective, I never go back on my word.”

“Then make a deal with me.”  Chloe offered.  “Go home and sleep, and I won’t bug you about driving your car.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I can’t make that deal at the moment.”  Lucifer said, trying to play it off.  “Lux will be rip roaring with people tonight and I’ll have my hands full.”

Chloe’s heart sank.

“Then how about we spend a little time together tonight?”  She tried.  “I can drive you home tonight, we can hang out a little at your penthouse, grab some dinner and I’ll pick you up tomorrow on my way into work?”

Lucifer frowned, as if trying to deduce her intentions.  Chloe kept her face as still as possible.  “I’m… amenable to that.”

“It’s a deal then.”  She said, knowing those words just sealed her victory.

“I am a Devil of my word, Detective.”  Lucifer said, gathering his belongings.  “Though I do hate to leave my car alone for a night.”

“It’s in a police station.”  Chloe said.  “Nowhere could be safer.”

Lucifer smiled, a real one, one she had missed this past week.  “If you insist, darling.  Lead the way.”

Chloe drove him home in near complete silence.  She kept glancing Lucifer’s way, seeing him fight to stay awake.  When they arrived at Lux, Lucifer glided into the club like he wasn’t about to drop, shaking hands with his bouncers, asking about their days.  That had surprised her once, thinking that Lucifer wasn’t the type to care about his employee’s day-to-day lives, but he made sure that every single one of his employees had everything they needed.  It made sense, when she thought about it, though.  Lucifer embodied righteous punishment, and the “punishment” his staff faced, such as being abused for being LGBT+ or being threatened by poverty or homelessness was not deserved nor righteous.  It was not his Father testing them.  It was human cruelty, and Lucifer was not one to give in to human cruelty.

They made their way up to the elevator.

“Anything fancy you for tonight?”  Lucifer asked, as if talking would help him stay awake.

“What?”  She replied.

“For dinner.”  Lucifer said.  “You must be starved, I know I am.  Shall we order in?  I fear I’m not really up to cooking tonight.”

“Ordering in sounds great.”  Chloe said, slightly relieved that Lucifer wouldn’t attempt to work a stove or oven in his state.  “How about Chinese?”

Lucifer perked up.  “I know a great place over on Santa Monica Boulevard.”

“Do they deliver?”  She asked.

“They’ll deliver for me.”  Lucifer smirked.  “Your usual?”

Chloe nodded and they arrived at his penthouse just as Lucifer was ordering in fluent Mandarin.  She set her purse down on the couch, and dug through it to find her chapstick, and found another small vial she thought she had gotten rid of.  Father Kinley had given her the “sedative” back in Rome, so she could send the Devil back to Hell.  She had taken it in a moment of weakness, not that she wanted to send Lucifer back to Hell, but being away from him for a month made her memories of him seem different.  She should’ve known that’s exactly what Kinley was preying on, and when she found Lucifer again back in L.A., she had told Father Kinley that she knew what Lucifer was and she was not going to send him back to Hell.  Lucifer may be the Devil, but he was her Lucifer, the one who literally gave a stranger the clothes off his back, the one who loved her daughter, at least enough to suffer through her childish whims and try to teach her how to drive in his car, the one who cried in her arms after he realized that God Johnson was not the man he thought he was (though that may have been the drugs).  She didn’t care if he was the Devil.  Maybe Ella was right.  The Devil really does get a bad rap.

She had meant to get rid of the vial.  She hadn’t wanted anything to do with Father Kinley or the prophecy she was sure he made up, or anything else that painted Lucifer as being as manipulative as he called his Father.  The Prince of Lies was something humanity used to justify using Lucifer as a scapegoat.  She knew his true face and it did not scare her anymore.  But… she wondered if it hadn’t been a mistake, not getting rid of the vial.  The liquid was supposed to suppress his angelic nature and sedate him.  She remembered how he was when he didn’t sleep for a week, eyes as wild as his nature, his mind unable to form just about any coherent thought.  She slyly checked his bedroom, and found his room unlived in for at least a few days.  She stuffed the vial down into her purse and grabbed her chapstick, putting it on quickly.  She knew he hated being lied to, and lying by omission definitely counted, but hopefully, he would never catch on to what she thought about doing.

They chatted amicably on the couch, Lucifer only leaving to pour them both drinks, until food arrived, piping hot and Lucifer went to pay the delivery man.  After he gave the young man a hefty tip, he brought the food to the couch.  They bounced off each other as they ate, Chloe feeling like she did before she found out that her lieutenant was the first murderer, a criminal mastermind, and trying to marry her because he found out she made immortals mortal.  Granted, that knowledge also came with Lucifer’s true face, and once she got her head on straight, she appreciated that knowledge.  She appreciated him.

“All right, Lucifer, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”  Chloe said, after they had finished their meal and cleaned up after themselves.

“I think I shall pop down to Lux for a little while.”  Lucifer said.  “I’ll ride the elevator down with you though.”

“Lucifer, you need to sleep.”  She stressed.

“I don’t need sleep, Detective.”  Lucifer said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.  “I am the Devil.”

“Lucifer, please, I’m worried about you.”  Chloe said.  “You haven’t slept in days.”

“No need, Detective.”  Lucifer said, definitely defensive now.  “I am not in need of assistance, nor do you need to worry.  I am perfectly capable of handling things myself, I don’t need humans meddling into my Devil work.”

She pursed her lips.  She knew he was hiding something.  “Lucifer, please.  Don’t push me out.  Last time this happened we were a mess.  I don’t want that to happen this time.”

“This is not comparable.”  Lucifer said.  “Maze is not tricking me this time.  I… simply do not wish to sleep.  This case… affected me more than I expected but I am not going to give in to my Father’s manipulations and dreams and I’m going to do what I want.  And I don’t want to sleep.”

Nightmares.  She should’ve known.  No wonder he wasn’t sleeping.  His solution to these problems was to run himself into the ground until he literally couldn’t anymore.

“Then let me at least get a drink for the road.”  She said, changing course.  “If you’ve got this completely under control, I should head home.  Do you have any water or am I going to have to drink from the tap?”

Lucifer gave a surprised chuckle.  “I do have water, Detective.  Staying hydrated is a very important part of-”

“Just water, please.

When he got up to pour her one last drink, she quickly grabbed Lucifer’s glass of bourbon and poured in three drops from the vial- hoping if it was poison, three drops wouldn’t be deadly.  After all, he was the Devil.  No human poison should affect him.

She hoped.

He returned easily, and he took his bourbon, unaware.  She offered a small toast, and he clinked their glasses together, downing his leftover alcohol in one gulp.  He immediately swayed, holding onto the bar for support.

“Lucifer, are you alright?”  Chloe asked, panic flooding her system.  She couldn’t believe it.  She’d just poisoned him.  She’d just killed the best partner she’d ever had.

“‘M fine, Det’ive.”  Lucifer said.  “I’m… I just got so… tired… all of a sudden.”

“You need to go to bed, now.”  Chloe said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She half-carried, half-walked him to his bed, setting him down on the side.  He fumbled with his buttons, his eyes half-lidded, his fingers sloppy and uncoordinated.  She helped him out of his suit jacket, then his button-up.  When he realized what she was doing, his fingers dropped loosely to the side and he stared at her with glazed eyes.  She decided to leave the pants on because there was no way that she could lift him to get them off, and she wasn’t sure he was wearing underwear underneath and she didn’t want to add sexual to her assault on him.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer, I’m so sorry.”  Chloe said, helping him lie down on his side.

She was half-tempted to run, to get as far away from what she’d done as she could, to run and run and run and maybe that would save him.

Lucifer weakly grabbed onto her wrist.  “Stay.  Please.”

His drug-addled mind had confused what she was apologizing for.  His eyes were barely open but he seemed so desperate for her not to leave.  She couldn’t deny him.

“Okay, just let me get you some water.”  She whispered.

By the time she found the stash of bottled water and come back, he was already unconscious.

She immediately put two fingers to his neck, feeling a strong pulse underneath.  She checked his breathing.  He seemed alright.

“Oh God, what have I done?”  Chloe whispered.  She knew she wouldn’t get an answer.

She moved one of his chairs into his bedroom, curling into it, staring straight at him.  She had to watch for anything that could be signs of a weakening heartbeat, or him not being able to breathe.  Then she knew she would have to run, whether he wanted her there or not.  Since they became close, she had always known she had to protect him.  She just never thought she’d have to protect him from herself.

“Not that this isn’t is a lovely sight to wake up to, but I think you’ve slept long enough, darling.”  Lucifer’s voice, clear and strong, woke her.

“Lucifer!”  Chloe startled, coming awake with a gasp.  “You’re okay!”

“Yes, I’m okay.  Actually haven’t slept this well in a long time.”  Lucifer smiled at her, sitting on his bed, a fresh suit on, holding a water bottle out to Chloe.  She ignored it, standing, checking Lucifer’s pulse.

“Detective, what is the meaning of this?”  Lucifer asked, genuinely confused.

“What’s the last thing you remember from last night?”  Chloe asked.

Lucifer frowned.  “We had a lovely dinner, you were heading home, we had a toast… then I felt very, very tired.  You were heading home.  Why did you stay?  I didn’t do anything to you, did I?  Consent is not merely a mortal invention.  I do not normally black out, I’m not sure what happened.”

Chloe let out a single laugh, nearly crying.

“Detective?”

“I think I poisoned you last night.”  She admitted.

Lucifer took a step back from her.  “What do you mean?”

She explained that when she’d gone to Rome, she’d met a man named Father Kinley, who was a priest, who called him evil, who tried to manipulate her into sending him back to Hell.  A man who told her of a prophecy, that Lucifer’s love was the key to Armageddon, and how he’d found evidence of Lucifer with Nazis, in circles filled with the worst of humanity, and she hadn’t had answers that could solve why Lucifer was there.  How Kinley specialized in exorcisms and he’d given her a vial, a sedative he called it, to drug Lucifer so he could take it from there.  She’d been wary of him, he had talked so horribly but sugarcoated it so well, it took her seeing him again to realize Kinley exploited her human fears, her grief at Charlotte’s death, her dealings with Marcus/Cain, her uncertainty of how to proceed, even her daughter, for he had said that Trixie could never grow up safe while Lucifer was around, and how she’d taken the vial but never once thought of using it.  She told him that when she saw Lucifer again, heard his voice, she was reminded of who he truly was, and while that was the Devil, she knew he would do everything he could to protect her, protect Trixie.  How she gave Father Kinley a rather explicit send-off, saying he was never to contact her again, and that she chose Lucifer over him.  She told him that she had meant to get rid of the vial, but had somehow forgotten.  She didn’t know how but she forgot.  She had handed the vial to Lucifer, who studied it carefully.

“And after this case, you were so upset, you didn’t even tease Dan, and I was so worried about you and I knew you weren’t sleeping and I know what happens to you when you don’t sleep and while you’ve never told me about your nightmares, I know you get them, Devil or no, and Kinley called it a sedative and I thought a few drops couldn’t hurt, you’re Lucifer, it’ll just make you end up sleeping afterwards but you just sort of shut down, and you basically passed out and I’m so sorry Lucifer, this is all my fault!”

Chloe had somehow started crying during the speech, unable to look at Lucifer.

“You must hate me.”  She whispered.

“I don’t hate you.”  Lucifer whispered back.

She looked up at him, and saw him frowning deeply at the vial, as he did when he was concentrating, but she saw no anger on his face.  She knew he never lied.

“Detective, I don’t blame you for being afraid of me.”  Lucifer said.

“I do.”  She said.  “You’re my partner, my friend, my-” She stopped herself.  She couldn’t admit to that.  Not now, not after what she’d done.  “I trust you.  I was never afraid of you, not really.  You’ve never lied to me, from day one, and I should’ve known better. You trusted me, and I betrayed you.  I should’ve been more careful with you.  I could’ve killed you.”

“You didn’t.”  Lucifer said, his tone subdued, his eyes never leaving the vial.  “And I think you’ve already suffered the punishment for your actions.  You didn’t kill me, let’s leave it at that.

“I lied to you.”  She cried.

“You did.”  Lucifer nodded slowly.  “And I will come back to that.  But right now, I’m much more interested in this Father Kinley fellow.  How did he know you make me vulnerable?”

“I don’t know, he already knew when he met me.”  Chloe answered.

Lucifer growled, a Devilish growl, low and frightening.  “I think I sense my father’s hand in this.  Or perhaps even one of my siblings.  Human prophecies have a going rate of maybe fifty percent, and this man knows answers to questions he shouldn’t.  No mortal sedative should’ve knocked me out so quickly, not even with you there.  A few drops is not enough to do any damage to me, for a mortal drug.  He must’ve got a hold of something angelic.  That is the bigger problem.”

Chloe nodded.  “I’m so sorry, Lucifer.  I swear, I was only trying to help you.”

“I know, love.”  Lucifer’s face softened, finally making eye contact again.  She found solace in his brown eyes, seeing no resentment.  “I’ve hurt you so many times in the past that I think you deserve a few shots back at me.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you.”  She insisted.  “I won’t-” She stopped, knowing he wouldn’t like an empty promise.  “I will do everything I can to never lie to you again.”

Lucifer smiled sadly.  “Thank you, Detective.  But for now, I think we should start looking into this Father Kinley person.  He seems to be the biggest threat to my safety at the moment.  Besides, I think we’re late for work.”

Chloe gasped, she hadn’t realized how long she’d slept.  Thankfully, when she grabbed it, her phone had no updates from the station.  It seemed the lieutenant either hadn’t noticed they weren’t there, or was giving them the benefit of the doubt after such a long case.

“We should go, I need to drop you back off to your car.”  Chloe said.

“Can I drive this time?”  Lucifer asked.  “After all, you did just drug me.”

“I also shot you and you turned it into my favorite necklace.”  She said dryly, falling back in line with their banter.  “And I did drug you, I’m not letting you drive my car.  What if you suddenly pass out while driving?  We’d crash, and I’d have to get a new car, and a new partner, and I don’t want to go through the hassle of training another partner.  So I’m driving.”

She took her keys from his hands, he’d tried to sneak them away from her, and marched to the elevator.

“You coming?”  She called out.

“Of course, Detective.”  He walked over to her.

The elevator dinged.

“So it’s your favorite necklace now?”

“Shut up, Lucifer.”

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20977646

Whumptober Prompt #11- Stitches

I promised two in one day! I don’t know if anyone saw my first post for day 10- but I’m gonna be pretty unavailable for tomorrow. No ones responded to it yet, so I’m just gonna leave this here and hope. So here’s 11- just so y’all know it picks up where we left Michael and Fayelin after they escaped Caina. @winedark-whump

She thoroughly cleaned Nyx’s wounds with antiseptic, eliciting hisses and groans of pain from the Villain, but he never woke. She was grateful, what she had planned next would be very difficult and she had no anesthetic. After thoroughly cleaning the wounds, she brought out the needle and thread. She started with the nearly seven inch laceration on his right arm as it seemed to be the worst of his injuries that she could see. She hoped it wouldn’t get infected, but she also knew the conditions in Caina. There was a reason that Caina wasn’t on any map, Hero or otherwise, while others like Judecca and Antenora were. She worked methodically, using her gift to perfectly puncture the skin one quarter inch apart, making sure the needle went exactly where it was needed and did no further damage. She knew she risked losing herself to her work and losing sight of her surroundings, her gift did have its drawbacks, but she knew the risk to Nyx’s health outweighed it. An infection out here could be deadly. They had no way to call for extraction until they got out of the Center. The other Heroes would definitely be employing anticommunication devices and gifts alike. But she knew the range would only go so far as the edge of the Center. Otherwise, they would be sensed by military equipment and civilian alike and she knew they’d rather let her and Nyx get away than have their most vicious base discovered. If the public believed the rumors about this place, the entire Hero way of life would be forfeit.

Once she had finished with his arm, she moved to the cuts on his chest. None of them were as deep as the one on his arm so she made much quicker work of those that needed stitches. Thankfully, not all of them did. Once she completed her work to her satisfaction, she allowed herself to regain the ability to perceive her surroundings. Nyx’s lips were chapped, his chest was rising and falling slowly but not enough to make her worry, and he was thinner and paler but he seemed as all right as he could be. He needed water and food at the very least, and maybe a bath. She knew he hated to be gross, “Disgusting, honey, you call me disgusting? Girl, I don’t even know her.” She had rations for a few days, she could easily go without eating, but the water was the hard part. She only had a couple of water bottles left, as she hadn’t meant to spend so long looking for him. She would never have assumed that he would’ve been taken to Caina. She knew that he had been taken to the Center, but never could’ve imagined he’d be taken to Caina. Caina was only for the most vile and irredeemable of criminals. In fact, she was pretty sure Nyx was the first or maybe third person to ever escape Caina, as Heroes always wanted to hold onto those in it. Killian had always told her she was safe in Caina, as no one could escape. Now, Nyx wasn’t a great guy by any standard, but he wasn’t Caina material. Unless something had changed in his classification. She shuddered at that thought. If something had changed, the only reason it could be was her. It would be her fault that he’d been taken to Caina, her fault that he’d been tortured over a stupid jewelry heist that was meant to pay rent on her shitty apartment. She sighed. She hoped Nyx would wake up soon. She could really use his advice.