I Hate The Way I Need You

Need

  He felt lost and broken. He couldn't shake the feeling of failure, even though Eobard Thawne was dead. Eddie was dead too... He died to kill Thawne, his descendent. The Reverse Flash... The man that killed his mother. Ronnie was dead because he went back to change things.

  He had been back to that night but he hadn't saved her. He had watched her get killed, held her in his arms. When he got back the wormhole had opened above the city. He was unable to grieve, the city needed him. Yet when he fell back down to the streets with Martin in his arms, he found that her blood was staining his suit.

  He hide how much it hurt then, because he knew that his actions were unbelievably selfish but the rapidly drying blood made him itch with fear and grief and the feeling of failure. But he hid it. He was the Flash and he had to be strong for his team, for his family and for the city.

  Still, he felt himself slowly breaking and even as he struggled to hold the pieces together he knew that he was going to fail. It was why he went to Leonard Snart.

 Barry had found himself thinking of the man more and more, felt the weight of his words more and more, before he ran back to the night of his mother's death. It had gotten to the point where Barry could not deny the impact that the thief had had on his life, the way that he looked in on situations. That was why Barry ran across the city, through all of his usual hideouts and found him.

  As he skidded to a stop, Leonard glanced up from where he had been tinkering with the cold gun. The look was brief and uninterested and oh-so typically Snart. Barry studied Snart as the older man went back to his little project, whatever it may be, and noticed the features that attributed to part of the attraction Barry held for the man.

  He guessed that the pause lasted too long because Snart practically threw the gun back down onto the table before looking up at Barry with a cold, unamused look. In that moment the speedster questioned his decision to run to the criminal. Even wondered exactly what had brought him there in the first place.  He knew that Leonard Snart had a way with words that made him feel better even if no one else would notice, he knew that Leonard Snart's very presence helped him to calm down. In that moment though he felt nervous.

  Barry pushed the hood of his suit down and looked shyly over at the thief. Leonard stood and took a casual step around his work bench, leaning back on it and folding his arms. He looked almost concerned.

  "So what do you want Scarlet?" came the easy drawl.

  "I-," Barry started but found that he really didn't have an answer.

  "You're upset aren't you? Had something to do with the wormhole above Central, I know that for sure. But does that have anything to do with this sad puppy face?" Snart observed.

  The  master thief pushed himself lazily off of the desk and took another couple of steps towards the speedster. Barry stayed perfectly still as the other man approached, watching every fluid movement even as Leonard watched him. Their eyes, blue and green, were locked and already Barry could feel himself calming down.

  "Tell me why you're here Scarlet and maybe I can help. Maybe, because it would be bad for business if I was to be seen working alongside Team Flash. Just a warning," Snart smirked.

  Barry looked away for a moment, the truth was that he had come for Leonard Snart's comfort. He hated the way that he suddenly felt a need for the criminal. It embarrassed him, as did the growing worry in the normally shut-off, cold eyes of said criminal.

  "You don't need help with the team. You need help," Snart stated. He said it quietly, having stopped an arms length away right in front of the speedster.

  The Flash looked up then, swallowing almost in an attempt to swallow his nerves. Silently he was scolding himself for coming here. Why had he come here? The answer was because his heart told him to. Yet that was something that Harrison Wells told him to do, follow his heart, and then Wells turned out to be Eobard. Still, his father told him the same thing...

  "A lot of stuff has happened," Barry whispered, finding the seemingly impossible strength to maintain eye contact.

  Leonard didn't say anything, something that Barry was half glad for and half afraid of. He flexed his hands, the leather gloves creaking gently at the over extension. He felt his breathing getting more uneven and focused his eyes back on Leonard's boots. It was then that the criminal took another step forward and grasped both of Barry's hands, stopping the movement.

  For a moment he froze, swallowing again. He raised his eyes to look at where his red gloved hands were encased in the thief's bare ones. The long black sleeves of Leonard's t-shirt reached right down to his wrists, cutting off Barry's view of the skin.

  "You came to me?" Snart asked, as quiet as the speedster's confession.

  "I don't know why. I just felt like I... that I needed to," Barry muttered.

  "You came to me because you're hurting?"

  "I guess... yes."

 Barry looked up again at the other. He bit his lip, could feel himself beginning to shake as nerves took over him. He still didn't quite know why he needed to see Snart. As a small smile-smile and not a smirk- curled his lips, Barry thought he knew.

  "Do you want to tell me or...  not?" the thief asked.

  "I don't know... I don't know what I want. I just think that I am breaking up into a million little pieces," the Flash confessed.

  The hand that touched his face was unexpected, it was hesitant and light until Barry found himself leaning into the touch. It was as if the consent gave Snart confidence, the hand cupping Barry's jaw and raising his face so that they were eye to eye. The other man seemed to study Barry's face.

  Snart then opened his mouth, but closed it before he said anything. That same smile graced his face before he lent forward and captured Barry's lips with his own. The speedster responded only a moment later, feeling all of the pain vanish. Maybe needing Leonard Snart wasn't the worst thing in the world.