It starts, curiously enough, with a cup of coffee. There's nothing really special about it-it's not expensive, particularly well made, or even poured in a special glass.

No, it's just a cheap cup of coffee in an old diner mug cup dripping a little brown ring on the surface of a formica table top.

Len is aware of how it looks. He's been sitting in the diner booth for nearly an hour, occasionally picking at the corners of the faded laminate menu. He's had three cups of coffee already, and the idea of waiting much longer is almost too much to bear.

He isn't unaware that he's getting up there in age. No, he understands his age quite well. Too well, perhaps.

But he'd always had a handle on the dating game, well aware of how and when to play his parts.

Well, he had... until the Flash, he supposes.

It's been awhile since he had a date, but he'd thought the plans he'd made with Gray were promising. He'd wanted to date Gray.

But, apparently, Gray had other ideas.

No text, no call. Not even so much as an email.

Len should probably face the facts-he isn't a catch, not anymore.

Maybe when he'd put the sweater on two hours ago he thought it made him look nice, but maybe it dated him. His greying hair hadn't bothered him before but maybe Gray had seen him sitting under the diner lights and decided he was too old.

God, he wants to go out and shoot things now. He hates feeling like this, like he isn't good enough. He'd had enough of that in his childhood, thanks.

Len leans forward and wraps his hand around his cup again, not at all surprised that it's barely warm anymore.

First actual date in two years, first attempt at a relationship since his last one exploded because of that girl in Copenhagen. Maybe he was just too old for this dating shit.

He looks down at his phone again when he notices the waitress making her way towards him again, sighs when he sees he's eclipsed an hour fifteen sitting here waiting for a date that's not coming.

"You want to place an order now, hun?" the older woman asks softly, a lock of her greyed hair falling across her face as she leans down a little over his table.

He's about to ask for the bill, get out of this diner and pretend his attempt at being a normal man never happened. But, then the Flash-no, Barry Allen-is sliding into the opposite side of the booth with about as much grace as his usual.

"So sorry I'm late, Len," the kid says in a rush of breath, squeezing his free hand before he picks up the menu.

Len... does not... understand.

"Crime waits for no one..." Len says in response, trying to pretend he has the faintest idea what's going on.

"Oh, is this your date, hun?" the waitress asks then and Allen blushes.

"Yeah, it's hard for us to find time together with our radically different work lives," Allen says before turning his face back towards the menu. The waitress just smiles at them.

"Well, I'll give you two kids a few minutes then. You feel free to call me over if you need me, darling."

Len waits the requisite sixty seconds for the waitress to get out of earshot before he hisses at Allen. "What the fuck was that?"

"Sorry! I heard a couple of guys talking about you getting stood up when I was walking by and I just..."

"Just decided to restore my sterling reputation by pretending to be my boyfriend?"

"I didn't mean to, I mean I..."

"I don't put out on the first date," Len lies, which serves to make his apparent date blush even more.

Maybe he can have some fun at this diner after all.

Author's Notes:

Urm, I have no idea. I HAD SUCH BIG PLANS FOR THIS. But time constraints and such, ya know? I totally have to get back to work now. 3

Very tempted to rework it into something longer. Because the Coldflash fandom needs more fake dating fics, yo.

Written for Coldflash Week 2015, day 2.