It's actually Michael Wynters in this, because if he can't be Snart, he has to be something that's a pun. If you are unfamiliar with Michael Snart, he is a fandom created son for Leonard that has been used in many other fics, but is not canon to the show or comics.

This diverges somewhere toward the end of season 2 so that Barry defeated Zoom without Henry dying, and the Legends don't exist. Instead, Len has been connecting with Michael since he saw Barry at Christmas, and Barry has been cleaning up the remaining Earth-2 metas and did not have that moment on the West house steps with Iris so they are not together, but as always, I will treat their relationship with the care and respect it deserves.

Yes, there is a villain. Hopefully one that will surprise you actually, and I'm super excited for it.

I'm either going to pair Michael with Wally or Hartley, but that will be background and minor. You're still welcome to plead your cases for which of those you'd prefer. I can make the plot work with either.

Enjoy!

It was Christmas, after all, or close enough, that cold day when Len shuffled back to a favored safe house to think.

You're doing a pretty lousy job of being a villain this week.

Damn kid. Problem was, he hadn't been wrong.

Len had played it up in the living room of the West house, in full gear, cold gun ready, lounging in an armchair with cocoa and all, but he'd hoped to catch Barry alone, not trailing his adopted sister and ever-present crush. He'd hoped to catch Barry in a festive mood and they'd banter like they used to, keep the game going, always going, before he gave hints on how to find Mardon and Jesse, dropped a threat or two to ensure his nemesis didn't think this was permanent, and they'd be even, debt paid.

But Barry was short-tempered, on edge from something Len didn't know the specifics on, and slammed him against the fireplace to force the issue. Less banter, more accusations, prompting conflict in Len's emotions he couldn't dismiss.

Afterward, he'd wanted only solitude, which shouldn't have amounted to debating turning back around to take Barry up on his offer. He didn't get the chance to dwell though once he entered the safe house, because he wasn't alone.

The light was on. No ambush then, if the person was announcing their presence, but it wasn't Mick or Lisa either, which meant someone was poking around where they shouldn't be, and Len was not in the mood to play nice.

It didn't help that when he aimed his whirring cold gun into the cluttered living space that the face he found was young and startled and unfamiliar.

Save the eyes. Len knew those eyes.

"Don't shoot!" Hands shot for the ceiling. "I just—"

"How'd you get in here?"

"Charles! From the bar! He said you sometimes come to this one, had an extra key—"

"Charles isn't a rat, so if you've done something to him—"

"No!" Those eyes were so wide, kid had to be early-twenties only, but Len knew that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Good looking, neatly kept coils of hair, dark skin, but blue eyes—strikingly blue. "He was kinda scary actually, but when I explained who I was, once I proved it, he gave me the key, said I could figure it out for myself."

"And who are you, exactly, that I should care instead of cleaning house?"

The hands had dropped, slowly, cautious, with a tiny shrug and twitch of a smile. "Your son."

The months went by quickly and differently than any before it. Len read in the papers about the defeat of Zoom before he heard it on the streets, which a year ago he would have considered sloppy, but now…he wasn't sure.

He wasn't out of the game, didn't want to be out of the game for good, even had a few future heists lined up, but he'd been taking it easy to spend more time with Michael.

Michael Wynters. His son.

"Dad, this is it. You'll love this place. I practically lived off their chicken salad in college."

He called Len 'Dad' with ease, and it warmed Len every time. Today, it was another lunch date. In the beginning, they'd seen each other constantly. Now that they'd settled into the idea of being family, knew each other more, it was still three or four times a week. Lunch or dinner or longer evenings planned. There was so much to make up for.

Aunt Lisa, who loved being called that and didn't mind one bit being closer in age to her nephew than her brother, joined them on occasion, as did Mick, who'd made Michael nervous originally, until he got on the man's good side with a story.

"I'm named after you, you know. Mom remembered you, how close you two were, like brothers, she said, so if she was going to name me something to connect to my dad, she knew it shouldn't be Junior or anything after my grandfather"—even being called that in passing was more than Lewis deserved—"but after someone important to him."

"Hn," Mick had passed it off like it was no consequence, but he called the kid 'Mikey' after that and softened considerably, when he wasn't teaching him how to defend himself.

"Any punk gives ya trouble, Mikey, and we're not around, just do this."

Which was as much of their lifestyle as Len allowed.

Michael wasn't like them. He'd grown up middle class and cared for. Single mom, sure, but that wasn't anything bad on its own, maybe better in this case. What kind of life could he have had if he'd grown up with Len?

He didn't even look like him really, a trait here or there, a specific smile, gesture, or way he said something. But the eyes—oh. He had Len's eyes, and that was a strange, wonderful thing, Len decided, because there were very specific things he wanted to pass on, if any at all, and very specific things he didn't.

Michael's mother had felt the same, which was why she'd waited to tell Michael who his father was until she was lying on her death bed. She'd been gone a few months when Len ended up back in Iron Heights for killing Lewis, and Michael had hesitated to do anything about the information on his lineage, but when he heard Len broke out, he'd grown reckless, curious, and sought some of the places he knew Captain Cold haunted, regardless of the danger and Len's apparent penchant for murdering family members.

Naturally, Len had been skeptical when Michael showed up, but he'd indeed had proof, the same proof that had been enough to convince Charles, bartender at Saints and Sinners. It was the picture of the boy's mother though that shook Len enough to loosen his hold on the cold gun.

Gorgeous. Dark skin. Bright smile. It had been a brief affair when Len was younger than Michael was now. She'd been a good girl who didn't belong in the neighborhoods she was frequenting to seek out adventure. Len was hurt when she disappeared, but he moved on, understood no one in their right mind would stick around someone like him for long if they had better options, and figured she'd gone home, maybe back to some Ivy League boyfriend. He'd never known she was pregnant, but those eyes proved Michael's story even before the paternity test put all remaining doubts aside.

Len had only two rules while getting to know Michael. First, if they went out, he had veto power over where in case there was risk of running into cops, or worse, Team Flash and other do-gooders.

Second, Michael didn't get involved in the Captain Cold side of Len's life—ever. It was too dangerous, the reason his mother had held back from admitting who he was for so long. If she'd ever considered tracking Len down sooner, she probably kept learning of worse and worse exploits that changed her mind right back again.

"I was working on more theories applying absolute zero today. Thought of you," Michael said after they'd ordered at the counter and sat in an out of the way table. "I think the science behind it was lent to us from STAR Labs. Doctor McGee said she knows the folks there, so—"

"No Cold talk," Len said, clearly seeing where this was headed—it was Lisa's fault Michael even knew where the cold gun had come from, "and you're not getting a look at the gun."

Michael flashed a cheeky smile that Lisa swore was a Snart family trait. "Aw, come on, Dad, just one night to take it apart? That doesn't put me in any danger."

"Not happening. Never know when I might need it."

It went unspoken that Len was always potentially only hours from committing a crime, though Michael appeared more skeptical the longer Len went without one.

The boy was smart, more than enough to make Len proud, not that he ever would have needed Michael to prove anything to him. Degree in thermodynamic engineering. Working toward his Masters with plans for an eventual PhD. Cushy job at Mercury Labs. Len never even finished high school, entirely self-made. He was proud of that too, but he was glad Michael had experienced something different.

He never gave up on trying to break rule number two though, said he wanted to know everything about Len, including the darker side, but if that happened…this budding relationship might crumble before it solidified into anything long-term, and Len couldn't deny how much he enjoyed being 'Dad' even though he'd never planned on becoming one.

"I'll wear you down one of these days," Michael said, always patient, which he might have gotten from Len's side, but also hopeful, which had to have come from his mother. "Be right back, okay?" he tapped the table before turning for the bathrooms.

The edge of always being at the ready, perceptive to any threats he might have to defend himself from, wasn't something Len could turn off, but around Michael his guard dropped a little—just a little, like maybe he could do normal from time to time and not have it end in disaster. He didn't want that all the time, but occasionally, it was…nice. Like cocoa in a living room on Christmas, even without the marshmallows, before it all fell apart.

Len wondered what Barry might be up to now. A few months ago, he would have had The Scarlet Speedster's movements memorized, but Flash activity had been regulated to cleaning up the remaining displaced meta humans from Zoom's earth, so while he'd no doubt been busy, they hadn't crossed paths in a long time.

"Snart?"

Len startled, wondering if he'd summoned Barry simply by thinking of him, because there he was, coming from around Len's shoulder.

Barry Allen, effervescent as always, bright and boyish and dressed in that nerdy chic way Len loved. How had he missed him come in? Len always knew when Barry was near. He could smell him coming—that tinge of copper—and feel him—hair-standing-on-end electricity, unmistakable. But for once he'd been taken by surprise.

"Barry."

"Hey." There wasn't any confrontation in Barry's expression, not like the last time they saw each other, just a genuine smile. "Here to enjoy the chicken salad or planning a stick-up later?" he teased—teased, like he didn't for a second believe Len would do that.

He wouldn't, where would the fun be in holding up a café, but it should have annoyed him to be called out like that. Instead, he smirked, "Thinking about it. Your presence would certainly make it more worthwhile. And what is it with the chicken salad here? Can't be that special."

Barry chuckled, charmed and equally charming. "It's the dried cherries," he said, looking like he had half a mind to take the empty seat in front of Len like he had once at Saints and Sinners. "Listen…I never got the chance to properly thank you for Christmas. It made a big difference getting that intel."

"I owed you one," Len dismissed. "Don't think it's a sign of the times."

"You haven't exactly been terrorizing the city since then. I half expected you to show up at the Labs at some point these past few months to help."

"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again real soon." He caught Barry's stare to make it clear he wasn't being friendly with that info. "Why don't you head back to your little hideout and wait for my call."

A disbelieving yet not at all surprised huff passed the kid's lips. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" He eyed the empty chair, but this time noticed the second drinking glass filled with iced tea. "Are you on a date?"

"No," Len snapped, too much bite included, which drew Barry's eyes up with a start. "It's not a date.

"If it was Lisa or Mick you wouldn't care, but you're anxious, I can tell. Only time you ever telegraphed being anxious was when…" When he was working with Lewis whispered between them, but Barry didn't say it. "Meeting a contact then? You know, I almost miss having an old-fashioned heist to foil. Zoom's goons have been a chore, but at least we almost have all of them in custody now. The offer's always open if you want to lend a hand with the stragglers."

"I'll leave the heroing to you, thanks," Len said, hoping to shut the conversation down, much as he enjoyed the banter and simply seeing Barry again.

The boy twitched to leave but lingered, eyes landing on the iced tea again. "You haven't been doing any villaining lately. Thinking about what I said? Because I meant it. After Lisa… It's just nice to know I wasn't wrong."

"About what?" Len tensed, which came out in the grip of his fingers around his water glass.

"That there's good in you, Snart. You've been behaving, practically a model citizen."

"Not for long if you keep pushing."

"Oh really?" he smiled endearingly in his challenge, just like the visitors' room at Iron Heights when he'd first told Len he believed in him, which a few months ago, Len would have denied out of self-preservation, but now…

But now Michael. Shit. He was out of the bathroom heading toward their table and—

"Barry?"

Barry spun about when Michael called his name.

When Michael called his name.

"Michael? Oh my god, how are you?"

They hugged like old friends reunited, completely unabashed in their display of affection. Len stared in shock. He must have stumbled into the Twilight Zone, or maybe finally overdosed on Barry's toothaching goodness.

"Dude, why are you never on Facebook?" Michael laughed as he squeezed Barry tightly. "I can hardly keep up. Did I hear your dad finally got out of prison?"

"He did! He's moving back to Central. Spent some time away, but he's back now and we've been reconnecting."

"That is so awesome! You were always so sure you could clear his name. Yeah, ya know…I've been reconnecting too. Dad? What's with the face?"

Michael's eyes landed on Len, and when Barry turned back to see that no, there was not some other man in line of sight to be the bearer of that endearment, his jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Dad?"

"Do you and Barry know each other?"

This wasn't happening, but thankfully, Len wasn't thinking clearly enough to attempt answering that question just yet. "How do you know each other?" he said, because if they'd slept together, Len would have an aneurism right there in the café, and Lisa would never let him live this down.

"Barry tutored me in Chemistry a few years ago. How do you know him?"

Thank god, but seeing as how Barry would be of no use to Len at the moment, tongue-tied and gaping with his brain trying to reboot, Len had to come up with an explanation on his own. Unfortunately, his ability to reform plans on the fly and improvise completely failed him.

"We dated. Once. Briefly," he said, and fuck, what the hell was he thinking?!

The increased horror on Barry's face did not help, but at least Len had avoided spouting 'he's The Flash' in his state of undue panic.

"Uhh…yeah!" Barry very nearly squawked, exaggerated disbelief replacing the horror as he mouthed, 'SERIOUSLY?' but then screwed his face into embarrassed shock for Michael's sake. "Very briefly. Boy, that's probably super weird since he's your dad," he nearly bit out with another glare the second Michael's attention diverted to Len again.

The problem was Len couldn't read Michael when he wore this particular expression, because it was one of those rare Snart moments that was so much like Len's own mask, he couldn't penetrate through it to the truth beneath.

"Not…weird," Michael said, continuing to glance between them. "I mean, we're all adults. You're a good guy, Barry, and Dad's a—"

"Supervillain," Barry blurted, unable to keep his floundering word-vomit under control. Of course, Michael already knew that, and Barry looked mildly comforted to see that those words didn't faze him in the slightest. "That's…ya know, why we had to break up! I know he's not like some of the real supervillains in town," he added as a purposeful jab at Len's pride, "but I'm still CSI and—"

"Conflict of interest," Len saved him from further rambling.

"Oh. Sure," Michael said as if that made perfect sense, which it did, but that didn't alleviate any of the awkwardness of the situation. That was when Michael's mask finally slipped as he looked to Barry in concern. "Wait, you wouldn't…you're not gonna call the cops or anything," he lowered his voice, which was how this entire conversation should be going given the café wasn't empty. "Your other dad's a detective."

"He is! But we…uhh…"

"We have an arrangement," Len saved Barry again—only to realize it wasn't entirely saved once he parsed out how that sounded.

"Yeah!" Barry had a remarkable talent for creating animated faces whenever Michael's eyes weren't on him. "Your dad's an informant. He's given me intel before, so we try to keep things professional."

Brat—no matter how much that might be true. "Don't make it sound like I'm a snitch, Barry, I have a reputation to keep."

"There were kids involved," Barry rolled his eyes, back to his annoying self, "and you weren't exactly a snitch about it. I'm grateful. I'm just still processing this," he gestured between Len and Michael, then looked to Len's son with affection and…understanding. "I remember how much you wanted to find your dad but didn't know who he was."

"Mom finally told me," Michael said. "Before she died."

"Oh, I…I'm so sorry, Michael, I hadn't heard." Thoroughly sincere, as always.

"I've had time to process it. It's tough sometimes, you know all too well, right? But I'm doing okay. A while after she passed, around Christmas? I found Dad and we've been getting to know each other ever since."

"Around Christmas?" Barry blinked at Len a little more playfully. "Before or after the mini marshmallows?"

"After."

The smile on Barry's face twitched like he'd played some role in all this, which was neither here nor there—Len didn't think it was, was it? Maybe partially, his ability to accept Michael into his life, a little—but when Michael shot Barry a confused glance, the kid clammed right up again.

"Umm…it's a long story."

"That's the night we broke up," Len supplied—one way of looking at it, and it caused Barry's eyebrows to spring for his hairline.

"That's why you were so on edge," Michael said.

"You also broke into my safe house," Len reminded him.

"Coz you've never broken into anyone's house before?" Barry snarked, then fumbled to correct how much ammunition he kept adding to this already volatile discussion. "Sorry. This is weird. I should go. You're trying to have personal, father-son time." His nose wrinkled on the phrase.

"Well yeah, but we both have reason to catch up with you, Barry," Michael said with that kind smile that was all his mother. "Would you like to join us?"

"Michael—"

"I don't know if that would be—"

"Come on, please? I don't want to miss the chance to catch up with either of you." He snagged a chair to add to their table before taking his own seat across from Len, leaving Barry to sit between them. "Unless it's really so terrible being in each other's company?"

This boy was definitely Len's son; he knew exactly how to spring a trap.

Len couldn't be the one to say no without seeming hard and unreasonable, but Barry fumbled again, overwhelmed and looking to Len for help he had no way of offering.

"No, never…never terrible," Barry said.

"Never, huh?" Len pressed, disbelieving.

Barry shrugged, sloughing off some of the tension from his shoulders. "You have your moments."

If they were alone this wouldn't be so difficult—or maybe it'd be worse.

"Great!" Michael patted the tabletop. "Then you can sit."

Barry did so. It was possibly the most awkward fifteen seconds of silence Len had ever experienced.

"Nice to know Michael doesn't have the worst taste in friends," he said finally. "Merely questionable."

"You're the one who's too afraid to meet any," Michael chided him.

"It's not fear, it's precaution. Do you really want your friends to know who your father is?"

"Yes. Because you're my father, and I'm not ashamed of that."

This discussion came up far too often, and Len hated having it come up in front of Barry.

Thankfully, his nemesis seemed to catch on to that.

"So Michael, what are you up to? Did you get that job at Mercury Labs?"

"I did. Working directly with Doctor McGee. She's incredible."

"That's great! Yeah, I've met her a few times now. She's actually dating my dad."

"Shut up. Your dad's dating my boss, and you dated my dad? Good thing we never slept together or this would be a real mess," he snickered, hoping to break the tension, no doubt, but it caused Barry's face to turn green. "I'm kidding, relax. We both had boyfriends when Barry was tutoring me," he added for Len's benefit.

At least now he knew for certain they hadn't slept together.

Wait…

"Boyfriend?" He looked to Barry.

"Yeah, you know…I've had boyfriends," Barry turned a little bashful, then remembered the lie Len had neglected like an amateur. "Before you."

Right. Michael hadn't seemed surprised by Barry dating a man, because he knew things about Barry that Len didn't.

"How did you two meet anyway?" Michael asked.

"Series of chance encounters." After all, Len had seen Barry Allen a few times before learning he and Flash were one in the same.

"Obvious flirting disguised as playful banter, you mean?" Barry said.

"Obvious?" Len bantered back if Barry was going to play that card. "And here I thought you were oblivious."

"Just because I didn't give in doesn't mean I didn't know what you were doing." That smile reminded Len of the visitors' room again, all playful and knowing. Flirting back maybe?

"But you did give in eventually," Michael said, "so what changed?"

Nothing, that was the problem. If Barry had been flirting back, it was only because he'd gotten it into his head that Len could change. That Len could be different. He wanted Len to be different, while Len wanted the game to continue. He hadn't wanted anything to change, other than fewer bodies hitting the ground.

"I, uhh…saw how much he loved his sister," Barry said, a lie built on the truth that he'd said to Len's face that day. "Suddenly, all the little things I thought made him seem less like a bad guy and more like a giant dork who likes to play dress up added up to make me wonder if he was better than he pretended to be."

Being right all the time was a curse more than a blessing.

"I keep trying to tell him that," Michael said.

"Yeah? And what does he say?"

"That we don't discuss Cold business," Len said with ice in his tone, but then, Barry was used to rising to his challenges.

"You always put on your Cold persona with me. Makes me wonder what the real Leonard Snart might be like."

"Exactly the same."

"Bullshit," Michael spoke up like the worst kind of traitor. "He only talks like that when he's lying or putting on a show. He is a giant dork. He likes jazz and old sci-fi movies—"

"For real?"

"He also has this crazy old comic book he keeps under glass. The Grey Ghost?"

"You like The Grey Ghost?" Barry whirled on Len with genuine intrigue. "I used to listen to recordings of the radio program when I was a kid!"

Of course he had. The sour thing was they probably listened to it at the same age, just in different decades, both enjoying the tale of a true hero—until, for Len, the belief that heroes could exist got beaten out of him.

The Flash was the exception, and the only reason Len tolerated him. That was why, not for anything silly like sentiment.

"No wonder you two broke up if you didn't get to know each other," Michael said. "You have a scary amount in common if I think about it. Must have only been in it for the sex, huh?"

Len choked on a swallow of water, and Barry managed to choke on nothing at all.

"I'm kidding!" Michael laughed again. "Geez. Please don't tell me about your sex life, Dad, but you are allowed to have one."

"I think Barry would prefer to have one elsewhere." Len raised his eyebrows to get the kid to realize that now was the time to dash.

"Uhh, well…anyway, it's more complicated than that, Michael. I could get fired if anyone found out I dated Captain Cold. But it's been really, honestly good to see you both," he said, taking the hint and starting to get up.

"Wait," Michael halted him, "was the reason you two broke up really only because your lives cross the wrong way?"

Barry froze halfway out of his seat. "No. I mean, there's the age difference and uhh…other reasons."

"Like what?"

"Umm…" Green eyes flashed to Len in alarm.

"Barry has a very strict father-figure who regularly carries a gun, for one," Len said.

"That's not a fair reason," Michael frowned.

"It's a smart one."

"What about what you two want?"

"Michael…"

"I just think it's sad if you broke up for the wrong reasons and never even really learned who each other is."

"Trust me," Barry broke in, "we know who each other is."

"Really? Does Dad know you took tap in college? Or that you kill at karaoke? Or does Barry know how much you've donated to abuse shelters over the years?"

"Wait, really?"

"See!"

Great.

"Wynters!" the person behind the counter called. They always gave Michael's name at places like this, since Len's was more notable.

"Oh! That's our order, I'll be right back." He zipped away as if only too eager to leave them alone with this clusterfuck.

Len wished he had something stronger to drink.

"I thought you were gay," Barry hissed like an accusation.

"Equal opportunity. Michael is gay."

"I know that."

"You knew that before I knew he existed, apparently."

"I had no idea he was your son."

"Wouldn't have expected you to."

"Why did you have to say we dated?" Barry dropped his head back with a groan. "So we're both…equal opportunity. That doesn't make this any less weird."

"Better than admitting we know each other because of your night job."

Barry shot him a petulant look.

"What's the matter, Scarlet? Worried Miss West might find out?"

The kid's answering expression said it all.

"Well now. Trouble in paradise, Barry?"

"There never was any paradise. Iris and I aren't…" He glanced away with a cringe. "Look, I'm taking a break from seeing anyone right now. No jealous current girlfriend—or boyfriend—to freak out over this. Though I am so telling Cisco the truth. And Caitlin. And Iris, actually. She's met Michael, you know."

The only thing worse would be if West had. "Fantastic. Only how about you not, and maybe I'll go easy on you next time we cross paths?"

"Wait, you are planning a heist?"

"A heist. Heists plural," Len gestured with a flourish of his hand. "Thanks to you, that clean record got dirty real quick. Why ruin expectations?"

"Thanks to you, you mean," Barry leaned over the table. "You're the one who broke our deal. But if you would have stayed put for a while, instead of letting Mardon get you out, I could have helped fix things. Make it seem like self-defense."

That brought Len up short. "It wasn't self-defense."

"Maybe a little…delayed," Barry said with the kind of pity Len hated, "but when I think back on that night, it sure seemed like self-defense. Including defense of other people. Lisa. Maybe even me a little."

Len had to shut this down right now, like he'd been trying to shut down the same ideas in Michael to avoid the inevitable backlash when these naïve kids were proven wrong. "I think you're confusing defense with revenge. And don't flatter yourself."

It was the visitors' room yet again, because Barry's smile was insufferably smug. "So I didn't hear you say 'Sorry, Barry' after he shot me?"

The only recourse Len had left was to glare.

"Okay! I think that's everything, I just had to grab some napkins," Michael said as he set two trays down on the table filled impressively with his and Len's orders.

The tension between them had to be palpable, but Michael acted as though he didn't notice.

"Online order—Allen!" the person at the counter called, and when Barry slid from his seat, he did so with finality.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to take this to go. It was good to see you, Michael. I hate that we lost touch. I'd like to do this again sometime when I'm not rushing out the door."

"Me too. Here, let's exchange numbers at least," he pulled out his cell phone, "and I'll give you a call sometime. Or you could call first too. I'd love to see you."

Barry took Michael's number, then sent him a text that lit up his phone with what Len saw was a winky-face. "I will. Soon. And Snart, guess I'll…see you around?"

Ambiguity was the key, lest Barry think he had sway over Len that he could not afford. "Time will tell," he said and tried not to watch too closely as Barry retrieved his food from the counter and exited the café.

Michael's dad was trying so hard to pretend he wasn't watching Barry leave that it was almost painfully noticeable he was. There was plenty left unsaid between them, Michael could tell, and a criminal dating a CSI couldn't have been easy, but they clearly hadn't broken up because they didn't like each other.

That stung more than Michael could say, because he'd heard the story of how his mother and father met, how part of his mother had always regretted leaving because she hadn't left for lack of liking Leonard Snart, just fear over how to make it work when their lives were on opposite ends of the spectrum.

Now Len was having the same thing happen to him again, with someone Michael also cared about. He and Barry hadn't been close, there were a few too many years between them to see each other often in school, but there had always been that potential for greater friendship, and Michael was honestly thrilled to have run into him if only to nurture that. If there was also a chance to make sure history didn't repeat itself for his father, Michael couldn't let this be happenstance.

Barry knew exactly who Len was and still looked at him with warmth. Len deserved that. He deserved someone who believed he could be more than Captain Cold, just like Michael had been trying to convince him of for months. What did it matter how many years were between them or what they did for their day jobs?

"So…Barry, huh?"

"Don't."

"Technically not Cold related, so—"

"He's CSI," Len said with a sharp edge. "That's Cold related enough, and I don't want to talk about it."

"Well that might be tougher the more I start seeing him again," Michael said, immediately catching the narrowing of his father's eyes. "As a friend, Dad, wow, you are so transparent. How have you been a supervillain all this time again?"

"New rule. No Cold business or talk about my love life."

Michael chuckled and shook his head, because he was long past being afraid of his father or the life he led, even though he knew the man was dangerous and had done some pretty terrible things in the past. He didn't justify those actions, but he wanted his father to move past them and honestly believed Len wanted to move past them too, even if he had trouble admitting that.

No talking about it, fine, but Michael couldn't let this go when both men had been so apparent—and apparent in ways he knew neither of them normally projected. Which meant he should definitely investigate further, if only he could figure out a way to do so without seeming too apparent himself.

Luckily for Michael, how to get Barry Allen and Leonard Snart in the same room again presented itself only two days later when someone broke into Mercury Labs and stole half of his research and equipment experimenting with absolute zero.

Clearly, a job for the CCPD—and maybe someone else who knew the tech and the criminal world intimately.

TBC...

Hope you liked this beginning! Please let me know your thoughts. :-)