Coldflash and Legends One-Shots

Hung Up on a Hangover (Rated PG13)

Summary:

Barry misses drinking, but he doesn't miss getting drunk. He misses the taste, the buzz ... and he hopes his boyfriend can help him recapture some of that.

Notes:

Written for an anon request to do a speed writing exercise featuring Coldflash. Seeing as I haven't written them in a while and I've been missing them, this seemed like a good way to jumpstart a few of my other fics. Tell me what you think.

***

"So, babe ... whatcha doin'?" Len asks, watching in curious amusement as Barry puts several bags from BevMo on the kitchen table and starts removing bottles of craft beers one by one.

"I did a little shopping." Barry empties one complete bag, tosses its carcass to the floor, and starts in on the next.

"I can see that." Len counts the bottles as Barry lines them up – a solid dozen so far, and he's still going. "Are we hosting a Bar Mitvah? Or are you throwing a frat party and you haven't gotten around to telling me yet? Because I'm up for either one." Len picks up an amber bottle of a local brew he's never heard of and contemplates the picture of a church on the label. "They're both good ways to score some quick cash."

Barry shakes his head, but he lets Len's comment lie. Leave it to Len to view a thirteen-year-old boy's birthday party as a paycheck. "I miss ... drinking," Barry admits sheepishly.

"Well, then, you're gonna have to ring Dr. Snow and have her mix you up one of those super potent cocktails because, I hate to break it to you, none of these are gonna have any effect ..." Len eyes the bottles on the table, their numbers growing before his eyes "... even if you did buy out the whole store."

"I don't miss getting drunk necessarily," Barry explains, emptying the final bag and setting it on the pile with its companions. "I miss the whole experience. I miss the taste, the subtle variations between brews. I miss getting lightheaded and a little bit stupid. I miss the buzz. When I drink a beer now, it burns away so quickly, I don't get the chance to enjoy any of that." Barry pulls a chair in front of Len's and sits, his back to the bottles as he focuses on Len's scrutinizing expression. "I noticed something interesting when we were making out the other night."

Len smirks. "I hope you noticed a lot of things."

"You were drinking a pale ale in between, and I could taste it on your tongue. It lingered on your lips long enough for me to savor it. I felt that tingle again ... that buzz." He leans forward, lips flush up against Len's as he whispers: "That's what I miss. That's what I want."

Barry doesn't kiss Len, even though he's practically talking into his mouth, but waits for his boyfriend to answer. Len doesn't say a word. He simply reaches for a bottle on the table with one hand and pulls Barry into his lap with the other. Barry slides into Len's lap and falls into his kiss, winding his arms around his neck to pull him deeper.

"Just one question," Len asks, wasting no time sliding his hand underneath Barry's shirt. "Did you expect me to drink all of that beer tonight? I mean, I'm no lightweight, but with the amount of alcohol you bought, you might end up making out with an unconscious man in a few hours."

"Nah. I just wanted to give you some variety ... and make sure we had plenty for round two."

"It does occur to me that you could cook with the beer and possibly get the same effect."

Barry pulls an inch away, eyes burning with lust and sparking with electricity as he glares down his pernicious boyfriend. "Are you trying to talk me out of an all-night booze-fueled make-out session with you?"

"Not at all. I'm just trying to be helpful."

"If you want to be helpful, start drinking."

Len opens the bottle he has his fingers on one-handed to the rolling of his boyfriend's eyes. But Barry can't deny that Len's strength and dexterity makes him hot under the collar.

"Your wish is my command, Barry Allen."