Chapter Text
Barry squints against a ray of sunlight that somehow made its way through a crack in the curtain. That's weird, usually he's up before the crack of dawn. He blinks a few more times before sinking further into the sheets.
Wait. The sun. Barry shoots up and grabs his phone on his nightstand, tumbling out of bed and crumpling onto the floor. The clock app reads 6:30AM, which means he was already almost an hour behind schedule.
"Shit!"
He jumps up and kicks off the sheets tangled around his feet and heads into the bathroom to get as much done as he can. He shoves the toothbrush into his mouth and glances into the mirror, wincing when he noticed his bed hair. His hair stood on edge like the quills of an angry porcupine foaming at the mouth (thanks to the toothpaste), but there was no time to jump in the shower.
"Hopefully people will just think it's sex hair," Barry mumbles to himself, spitting out his toothpaste. "I mean, it could happen, right?"
Somehow managing to pat down his unruly hair he slides into a pair of clean black slacks before buttoning up his collared shirt, slipping on a tie and vest to draw some attention away from his bed-head.
Rushing out of the apartment and through the mass of his fellow Central City citizens, he makes his way to the nearest Jitters, sending a little 'thank you God' prayer up to the heavens that he lives so close to the office. However, faced with a line nearly out the door, he quickly takes back the prayer and swears under his breath, shoving his way to the front.
"Barry, hey!" The barista calls, beckoning him over. "Here you go. Your regular order."
Barry shoots Julian a grateful smile and take his order from him. "Literally saved my life. Thank you, thank you!"
Barry smiles as Julian winks at him, before weaving his way out of the shop, ignoring all the annoyed customers. Iris was right, it always pays to flirt a little.
He glances at his watch, realizing that he's going to be late if he doesn't pick it up a bit. He increases his pace, thanking his lucky star for his crazy ass track coach back home. Seriously, Coach Thawne must have gotten his drills from the Marines or something. As Barry practically runs into the building, he sees the elevator doors start to close. Sucking in a breath, he leaps into the two foot gap, raising both coffees over his head as he crashes into a wall of suits.
They grunt at him as he regains his balance and steps forward to give them their space.
"Everybody okay?" Barry asks, looking around. It's all blank stares and glares, so he just stares at the elevator doors and tries not to blush. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, embarrassed, "Me too."
As soon as the elevator doors reopen, he rockets out of there. The secretary glances up at him. "Cutting it close."
"One of those mornings!" Barry calls out over his shoulder, only to collide with an intern pushing the mail cart around, spilling one of the lattes all over his shirt.
"Sorry!" The intern squeaks, scurrying away.
"Ugh, for real?!" Barry mumbles, marching over to his desk and plunking down the remaining coffee cup.
His coworker, Jax, takes in his sorry, coffee-stained state and chuckles. "Rub some dirt on it, brother."
Barry glares at him, then notice what he's wearing. He gives him a puppy-dog look. "Jax. I need the shirt off your back. Literally."
"...You're joking, right?"
"Patriots game, Keystone, this Tuesday," Barry says, "two company seats for your shirt. You have 5 seconds to decide. 4. 3. 2..."
"Alright!" Jax says, tugging his shirt over his head. "Jeez."
Barry shrugs off his shirt to hand it over and glances towards the door to make sure the boss isn't here yet. Thankfully, Jax's a similar size as him, and the shirt fits fine, though it is a little large. He tucks as much of the shirt into his pants as he can, rolls the sleeves, and pulls on the vest, looping the tie through the collar once again.
Just as he finishes up, Mr. Snart strides into the room, arguing on the phone with a client. Barry gathers a few reports, check over his schedule, and grabs his coffee off the desk before following him into his office and closing the door.
When he turns around, Snart has hung up and is sitting down at his desk, shuffling through a few papers. The boss looks like he has gotten a good night's sleep for once; it only serves to highlight how annoyingly good-looking he is. He's... not just hot, not just handsome, not just beautiful, not just pretty. He's a combination of all of those things in different, subtle ways. The handsome cut of his jaw, the beautiful curve of his cheekbones, the pretty fluttering of his eyelashes. And his eyes. Barry's always been good with words, but the sky and the sea and all that other corny shit have nothing on the piercing blue of this man's eyes, and no other comparison does them justice. If he smiled more, he'd be a god.
Too bad he was a hell-bound, heartless monster of a man.
Barry clears his throat, trying to shake the thoughts from his head, and Snart extends his arm without even looking up at Barry. Barry rolls his eyes but steps forward to hand him the latte.
"Morning, sir," Barry says, "you have a conference call in 30 minutes."
Snart takes a cautious sip of his latte and nods. "Yes, about the marketing of the spring books. I know."
Well, then. Maybe you can just do the job on your own, Barry thinks pettily, but continues. "Staff meeting at 9:00."
Snart drums his fingers on the desk and scrutinizes Barry. "Did you call...what's her name? The one with the crooked teeth."
Really nice, Snart. "Janet?"
He gestures impatiently at him, like the woman's name is inconsequential. "Yes, Janet."
"Yes," Barry says. "I did. I told her that if she doesn't get her manuscript in on time you won't give her a release date."
He nods his approval and returns his attention to the manuscript in from of him, ignoring Barry entirely. Barry starts to retreat towards the door, stopping just short of leaving the room. "Um, your immigration lawyer called. He said it's imperative..."
His boss cuts him off. "Cancel the call, we'll postpone the meeting till tomorrow. Keep the lawyer on the sheets. Oh, and get a hold of P.R., have them start drafting a press release. Mick is doing Fallon."
"Wow. Nice job." Mick Rory, a.k.a Rebecca Silver, the famous romance novelist, had been a hermit for the past few decades, and no one had been able to get him to stick out his head and talk about just how brilliant he is. But, of course, Captain Cold never takes no for an answer. Barry never should have doubted him, really. It's a strength and weakness of his.
"If I want your praise, I will ask for it."
Barry presses his lips together in a thin line to keep a snarky remark from escaping, and turns to leave the room.
"Who's Julian?" Barry freezes like a deer in headlights, doorknob in hand. Snart is reclining back in his large black chair, looking smug. "And why does he want me to call him?"
"Well, that was originally my cup."
"And I'm drinking your coffee, why?"
"Because your coffee spilled," Barry says, wincing.
Snart takes another long sip. "So, you drink unsweetened, cinnamon light soy lattes?"
"I do," Barry lies. "It's like Christmas in a cup."
"Am I supposed to believe that's a coincidence?"
"Incredibly, it is. I, mean, I wouldn't—I wouldn't possibly drink the same coffee that you drink just in case yours spilled. That would be pathetic," Barry deadpans, blushing, and is grateful to hear the phone ring.
As he reaches for the phone, he mentally kicks himself for the stupid answer. Really, Barry? Christmas in a cup? "Hello, Mr. Snart's office. Hey, Rip." He glances over to Snart, who motions towards the door. "Actually, we're headed to your office right now. Yeah." Barry hangs up and frown. "Why are we going to Rip's office?"
Snart brushes past him, saying nothing and begins to gather some papers. Right, okay. No answer. Cool.
Barry discreetly takes his phone out of his pocket to type out a warning to his coworkers. Captain Cold is on the prawl!!!
The office is immediately a flurry of typing and fake phone calls, everyone pretending to work hard. Barry opens the door for his boss.
"Have you finished the manuscript I gave you?" Barry asks, matching Snart's pace.
"I read a few pages," he says. "I wasn't that impressed."
"Can I say something?"
Snart doesn't even spare him a glance. "No."
"I've read thousands of manuscripts, this is the only one I've ever given you." And also the only reason I've put up with your shit every single day for the past three years, he thinks, but doesn't say. "There's an incredible novel in there, the kind of novels you used to publish."
"Wrong. And I do think you order the same coffee as I do just in case you spill, which is, in fact, pathetic," he remarks, finally casting a brief glance at him.
"Or impressive."
"I'd be impressed if you didn't spill in the first place," he drolls, stepping into Rip's office. "Remember, you're a prop."
"Won't say a word," Barry mumbles.
"Our fearless leader and his liege," Rip says, grinning his lopsided smile. Barry glares at him and his dumb British humor. "Please, do come in."
Snart looks around the office, and Barry remains near the door. "Beautiful breakfront. Is it new?"
Rip leaned against the front of his desk and answered arrogantly. "It is English Regency Egyptian Revival, built in the 1800s but, yes, it is new to my office."
Barry refrained from rolling his eyes. Snobby prick.
"Witty," Snart drawls, seeming to have a similar reaction. "Rip, I'm letting you go."
"Pardon?" He stands up, his arrogant demeanor suddenly gone. Barry's mouth drops open at Snart's harshness, and he rushes to close the door for privacy. The fuck? A heads up next time would be nice.
Rip's just as shocked as Barry is, but manages to school his features somewhat.
"I asked you a dozen times to get Mick to do Fallon, and you didn't do it," he says. "You're fired."
"I have told you, that is impossible," he argues. "Mick Rory hasn't done an interview in twenty years."
Snart tilts his head. "That's interesting, because I just got off the phone with him, and he's in."
"Excuse me?" Rip backs up a little. He looks like Snart just punched him in the balls or something.
"You didn't even call him, did you?"
"But..."
"I know, I know." Snart sighs. "Mick can be a little scary to deal with. For you." Rip's fists clench and his face goes red with anger and humiliation. "Now, I will give you two months to find another job. And then you can tell everyone you resigned, OK?"
It's a reasonable offer. Two months of pay, and you can kick back all you want while looking for a job...it was much better than being fired and kicked to the curb, that's for sure.
Barry opens the door and follow his boss out.
"What's his 20?"
Barry glances behind them. "He's moving. He has crazy eyes."
"Don't do it, Rip. Don't do it." Barry hears Snart mutter to himself, and finds himself worrying about him for a moment.
Then shit gets real.
"You poisonous twat!" Rip yells, swaggering out of his office. Barry sees Snart roll his eyes before feigning nonchalance and turning to face him and his rant. "You can't fire me! You don't think I see what you're doing here? Sandbagging me on this Fallon thing so that you can look good to the board?" Encouraged by their coworkers' stares, he continues, wagging a finger at Snart. "Because you are threatened by me! And you are a monster!"
"Rip, stop," Snart warns with a weird smirk. It's more of a grimace. Barry shrinks behind him a little—Rip was losing it and he was not going to get sucked into this.
"Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves," Rip spits. "You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you're gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one."
Barry gasps, mouth hanging open. Okay, that was uncalled for. Their boss could be a heartless dick, yeah, and maybe he's fantasized about him getting eaten by a shark or hit by a train before, but Rip's words were way too personal.
Snart clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but firm. It's worse than a yell. "Listen carefully, Rip. I didn't fire you because I feel threatened. No. I fired you because you're lazy, entitled, incompetent and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in your office."
He looks Rip up and down, his lip curling up with distaste. "And if you say another word, Barry here is gonna have you thrown out, OK?"
Say what now?! Barry's eyes widen and Rip opens his mouth, but Snart interrupts him before he can start up again. "Another word, and you're going out of here with an armed escort. Barry will film it and put it on that Internet site."
He pauses and turns to Barry. "What was it?"
"TikTok?"
"Exactly." He looks back at Rip. "Is that what you want?"
Rip takes a step backwards, shaking his head. Snart 2, Rip 0.
"Didn't think so. I have work to do." He turns sharply on his heels and stalks away while Barry scrambles to catch up. "Have security take his breakfront and put it in my conference room."
"Will do."
Barry is still stunned by the showdown, but the next request shakes him out of his stupor.
"I need you this weekend to help review his files and his manuscripts."
"This weekend?" Barry repeats, stomach sinking with disappointment.
"Got a problem with that?"
"No. I... just my great-grandmother's 90th birthday, so I was gonna go home and..." He can tell Snart isn't listening at all, and mumbles the rest dryly to himself. "It's fine. I'll cancel it. You're saving me from a weekend of misery, so it's... Good talk, yeah."
He stalks to his desk and lift the phone, dialing his home number to let his family know he won't be able to make it after all.
Predictably, Iris is pissed.
"It's her 90th birthday, Barr."
"I know, I know, okay? Tell Grandma Esther I'm sorry. What do you want me to tell you? He's making me work the weekend."
"Can't you just tell him no? You've already given up so much. He'll understand. Just go march into his office and explain!"
"No, I'm not... no."
"Why don't you just quit, Barry? This job is making you miserable."
Barry sighs. "I've worked too hard for this promotion to throw it all away."
"Dad isn't going to be happy."
"Yeah, I'm sure that Joe is going to be pissed," Barry grumbles. Feeling the cold chill of his boss's presence behind him, he switches to business mode, "But we take all of our submissions around here seriously. We'll get back to you as soon as we can." He ends the phone call in a hurry and turns around to face the music.
Snart gazes at him for a moment and Barry shifts uncomfortably under his steely blue eyes. "Was that your family?"
"Yes," Barry says, running a hand through his messy, unkempt hair.
"They tell you to quit?"
"Every single day," Barry answers, glad for the ringing of the phone.
There's an awkward pause, as he listens to the unknown voice on the other end of the line.
Hanging up, Barry turns to his boss. "Queen and Palmer want to see you upstairs."
"OK. Come and get me in ten minutes, we've got a lot to do," Snart orders, spinning on his heels and striding away.
"Okey-doke!" Barry replies, letting his gaze wander down Snart's backside. Damn, those dark blue tight-fitting pants are really working for him today.
Urgh, not again. Remember who you're thinking about, Barry, he reminds himself, forcing his attention to the screen in front of him.
Ten minutes later, on the dot, he knocks on the large company door and pokes his head in.
"No, Leonard—Excuse me, we're in a meeting," Mr. Queen says, frowning at him.
Barry ignores him, focusing on Snart. "Sorry to interrupt—"
"What?!" Snart snaps at him, nearly growling. Barry wonders what's wrong with him now.
"Mary from Ms. Winfrey's office called. She's on the line."
"I know."
"She's on hold," Barry says awkwardly. "She needs to speak with you. I told her you were otherwise engaged, but she insisted, so, uh... sorry."
Snart was clearly fuming about something, so Barry figured he might as well get him out of here before he did something irrational. "So..." Barry says, raising an eyebrow, and motions for him to come with Barry downstairs.
Then, all of a sudden, Snart has this look on his face, and he's staring at Barry like it's the first time he's ever seen him. Barry turns his head to the side slightly, silently asking why the fuck are you looking at me like that?
"Come here," he finally says, waving Barry over. He's got crazy eyes and a tight smile and that's never a good combination. Barry steps away from the door to stand beside him, knowing he's going to get an explanation and that it'll just be easier if he plays along, like usual.
"Gentlemen, I understand. I understand the predicament that we are in. And... and there's, well... I think there's something that you should know." His voice trailed off, a weird mix of hesitation and determination coloring his tone.
Snart glances up at him, and Barry returns his stare, confused. Snart is never one to hesitate about anything, but he hesitates now. It's almost imperceptible, but Barry notices. Then, like he's suddenly made up his mind, he announces loudly, "We're getting married!" He reaches over and pokes Barry's arm a few times, putting on a bright smile. "We are getting married."
"Who's getting married?" Barry asks, oblivious.
"You and I," Snart says, and arches an eyebrow, daring him to say otherwise. "You and I are getting married! Yes."
"We're..." Barry repeats weakly.
"Getting married," he cuts him off, glaring warningly at Barry.
"We're getting married," Barry says. Is this a joke? Is this a national give your assistant a heart attack day? He glances around as discreetly as he can, looking for any hidden cameras.
"Yes," Snart confirms, laying his hand on Barry's shoulder. Barry reflexively goes to put his hand over Snart's, but he pulls away.
"I didn't realize you were gay, Leonard," Mr. Palmer says in his usual cheerful manner.
"Legally, you can't ask me about that, Raymond." Mr. Palmer looks like a kicked puppy. Knowing him, Barry would bet that Snart has genuinely hurt his feelings by refusing to come out to him.
"Isn't he your secretary?" Mr. Queen spoke up, carefully not addressing the gay part.
"Assistant," Barry corrects.
"Executive... assistant secretary. Titles." Snart waves his hand in the air. "But, wouldn't be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries. Would it, Oliver? With Felicity. Remember?" Mr. Queen's face goes red with embarrassment while Mr. Palmer chuckles.
"So, yeah. The truth is, you know," Snart says. "Barry and I, we're..." They exchanged a look, and Barry nods permissively for him to continue, because there is no way he was helping him spin this bullshit. Not when he still wasn't completely sure what was happening. "...we are just two people who weren't meant to fall in love, but we did."
"No," Barry says. Definitely never meant to fall in love. Ever.
"All those late nights at the office and weekend book fairs," Snart adds. "You know how it is."
"No," Barry repeats, still in denial that this is really happening.
"Something happened." Snart awkwardly puts his arm around Barry's waist.
"Something." Barry tries to smile. "Yeah..."
"Tried to fight it and... Can't fight a, uh... Can't fight a love like ours, so..." If Barry wasn't so horrified with what was being said, Snart's struggle with words would have amused him to no end. He withdraws his hand from Barry's hip and Barry finds himself shifting closer to him. "Are we good with this? Are you happy? Because, well, we are happy. So happy." He smiles and lightly slaps a befuddled Barry's cheek a few times.
"Leonard," Mr. Palmer -Raymond- says.
"Yes?"
Mr. Palmer breaks out into a huge grin. "It's terrific! Just make it legal." He holds up a hand and wiggles his left ring finger.
"Legal. Right." Snart starts backing up towards the door, tugging Barry along by the cuff of his shirt. "Yeah, well, then that means we need to get ourselves to the immigration office. So we can work this whole mess out. Right? Thank you very much, gentlemen. We will do that right away."
"Thank you," Barry mumbles vaguely. "Gentlemen."
"Thank you," Snart says, yanking Barry out of the room. They head back to his office in silence, but by the time they come out of the elevator, everyone on their floor has somehow managed to find out about what had happened upstairs. Barry tugs on his tie, feeling like he's suffocating.
"Snart and Barry are getting married!"
"What is that about?"
"Captain Cold! Here they come."
"Yeah."
"What is he thinking?"
"Married? Didn't even know they were dating."
Jax laughs at Barry. "Dude, seriously? Him?"
Barry shoots him a warning glare and follows the boss into his office and shuts the door. Snart either doesn't notice he's come in or chooses to pretend like nothing happened. Either way, Barry remains stationed in the middle of the room.
"What?" Snart finally asks, his voice disinterested.
"I don't understand what's happening," Barry says, looking at him incredulously.
"Relax. This is for you, too."
"Do explain."
"They were going to make Rip chief."
"So naturally I would have to marry you," Barry says sarcastically.
"What's the problem? Were you saving yourself for someone special?" He flips the page of a manuscript.
"I like to think so," Barry mumbles. "Besides, it's illegal."
"They're looking for terrorists, not for book publishers. Sometimes you have to throw away the plan."
Okay, this man is crazy. Off the rails. Does he really think Barry is just going to marry him? What if he had been in a relationship?! He has a life! There is more to life than his job, and he's made enough sacrifices already. He'll have to let him off the hook. Besides, what can he do if Barry says no? He'll be deported back to Canada and Barry will get Rip as a new boss, who would probably be less of a demon and more of a pretentious, manageable British asshole.
"Mr. Snart."
"Call me Len, Barry. We're getting married."
Barry prays for strength.
"Len." Fuck, that feels weird.
"Yes?"
"I'm not gonna marry you."
"Sure you are. Because if you don't, your dreams of touching the lives of millions with the written word are dead. Rip is gonna fire you the second I'm gone. Guaranteed. That means you're out on the street alone looking for a job. That means the time that we've spent together, all the lattes, all the cancelled dates, all the midnight cocoa runs, were all for nothing and all your dreams of being an editor are gone."
As he spoke, Barry felt the walls close in on him. He was suffocating before, but now he was crushed. Because everything he was saying was true, no matter how badly Barry wanted to deny it. His only chance depended on Snart being here. Barry sucks in a breath of air, trying to fill his lungs.
"Don't worry, after the required allotment of time, we'll get a quickie divorce and you'll be done with me. But until then, like it or not, your wagon is hitched to mine. OK?"
Barry just stands there, staring at him. There's a ringing in his ears. Snart barely glances up at him to order "Phone."
*
The immigration office is packed with people. Jesus, is it always this busy every day? Barry wonders, overwhelmed. I mean, yeah, there's a lot of people in Central City, but c'mon.
Snart, still dressed in those damn tight-fitting pants, surveys the busy room before pushing his way to the front. "This way."
"Mr. S- Len!" Barry hisses.
"Come."
"The line..." Barry begins to say, but trails off and follows him anyway. Why bother?
"Next, please," the employee calls out.
Snart hops in front of a young woman, giving her his most charming smile. "Just, uh... excuse me, I need to ask him something." He turns back to the employee. "I need you to file this fiancé visa for me, please."
Barry hides behind his boss, hoping no one will notice him, especially the worker behind the desk. The young woman, however, throws a dirty look at the two of them. Barry wants to melt into the floor.
But Snart looks behind him and around him, impatiently waiting for the man to assist him. He has to be made of ice to ignore a glare like that. The city employee gives them their papers back, and motions for them to wait. Barry mumbles an apology, before following him into a back room.
"I have a bad feeling about this." Barry whispers. Len rolls his eyes, but says nothing, typing away on his phone.
A half hour later, an older man in his sixties comes in. He has stark white hair and black glasses and looks very proud of himself. Too proud. "Leonard?"
"Yes."
"Hi. Hello."
"Hello," he responds, and puts down his phone.
"Hi. I'm Mr. Stein."
"Hi."
He turns to Barry. "And you must be Barry."
Barry nods.
"Well, sorry about the wait. It's been a crazy day today."
"Of course, of course. We understand," Snart says, smoothly pretending like he hadn't cut the line out of impatience. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on such short notice."
"OK," he says, looking through the papers. "So, I have one question for you. Are you both committing fraud to avoid his deportation so he can keep his position as editor in chief at Colden Books?"
"That's ridiculous," Barry squeaks, feeling his stomach drop to the floor.
"Where did you hear that?" Len asks sharply, sitting up straighter.
"We received a phone tip this afternoon from a man named..." He looks at the paper again.
"Would it be Rip Hunter?" Len asks, the promise of vengeance lurking behind his eyes.
"Rip Hunter, correct," Mr. Stein confirms, looking back up curiously.
"Rip." Snart shakes his head sadly. "Poor Rip. I am so sorry. Rip is nothing but a disgruntled former employee. And I apologize. But we know you're incredibly busy with a room full of gardeners and delivery boys to tend to." Barry's mouth drops open and the immigration officer glares at Len. "If you just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way." He stands, brushing the wrinkles from his pants.
"Mr. Snart, please." The man motions for him to sit again. Len feigns a smile and sinks back down into the chair. The immigration officer leans forward and clasps his hands. Barry presses his back into the chair, growing uneasy. "Let me explain to you the process that's about to unfold. Step one will be a scheduled interview. I'll put you each in a room, and I'll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other."
He looks at Len, who doesn't blink. "Step two, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, I interview your co-workers. If your answers don't match up at every point, you will be deported indefinitely."
He looks at Barry, smug smile in place. "And you, young man, will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of $250,000, and a stay of 5 years in federal prison. So, Barry. You want to talk to me?"
Snart chuckles, putting a warning hand on Barry's arm and shaking his head. "He has nothing to say."
The white-haired officer's attention remains on Barry. He shifts in his chair. He shakes his head in the negative.
"No?"
Barry pauses, swallows, and nod.
"Yes?"
Len's eyes narrowed at him. "Barry, baby."
"The truth is... Mr. Stein, the truth is..." Barry turns to face Len, patting his knee. "Lenny and I... are just two people who weren't supposed to fall in love. But did."
Snart grins and puts his hand over Barry's, nodding along with his explanation.
"We couldn't tell anyone we work with because—because of the big promotion that I have coming up."
"Promotion?" Mr. Stein asks.
"Yeah."
"Your promotion," Snart repeats, skeptical.
"We, we both felt, uh... that it would be deeply inappropriate if I were to be promoted to editor while we were dating," Barry continues.
"Editor," Snart drawls. Barry can hear the sarcasm in his voice.
"Have the two of you told your families about your secret love?" Stein asks. Barry frowns; it sounded like he was mocking them.
"Oh, impossible. I'm an orphan," Len explains sadly, with just a trace of his usual snark.
"Are you an orphan?" Stein asks Barry, rolling his eyes.
Barry opens his mouth to reply.
"No, his family is very much around," Len butts in. "They're, ah... Well, we were gonna tell them this weekend. Grandma Esther's 90th birthday, and the whole family's coming together." Barry stares at him. Captain Cold say what now? Since when had he ever listened to anything Barry said? "And we thought it'd be a nice surprise."
"And where is this surprise going to take place?"
Len gives him a deeply unimpressed look. "At his family's house, obviously."
"And where is that located again?" Stein smirks, smug.
"Oh, why am I doing all the talking?" Len laughs and rubs Barry's shoulder. "It's your family's house, babe. Why don't you tell him where it is. Jump in."
Barry pull his eyes away from the hand on his upper arm. "Sitka."
"Sitka," Snart chirps.
"Alaska."
"...Alaska" His head whips in Barry's direction in disbelief. Barry deeps his head down to keep from laughing.
"You're going to Alaska this weekend?" The immigration officer asks.
"Yeah," Barry says, because apparently that's what's happening, now.
"Yes, yes," Len echoes, letting his hand drop away from Barry. "We are going to Alaska. Alaska, that's where... that's where my little... that's where my Barr-Barr is from."
"OK. Fine. I see how this is going to go." Officer Stein straightens a few pieces of paper on his desk and checks his watch. "Well, if that's the case, I will see you both at 11:00 AM Monday morning for your scheduled interview, and your answers better match up on every account."
"Thank you," Len says, and moves to the door.
"I'm looking forward to this one," Mr. Stein says, eyes twinkling through his thick lenses.
"We're looking forward to it, too," Len says, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Thank you."
"Yeah," Barry says.
"This is going be fun. I'll be checking up on you," Stein warns, looking a bit like a stern Grandpa.
"You got it," Barry says, nearly pushing Len out the door.
They make their way out of the building and onto the sidewalk.
"OK... so, what's gonna happen is we will go up there. We'll pretend we're dating, tell your family we're engaged. Uh, use the miles for the tickets. I guess I will pop for you to fly first class. But make sure you use the miles."
Barry stops in his tracks and watch him go on for a few more steps, rambling about airplane fees and meals.
"If we don't get the miles, we're not doing it. Please confirm the vegan meal. 'Cause last time they gave it to a vegan, and they forced me to eat this clammy, warm, creamy salad thing, which was..."
He finally notices Barry's not at his side and backtracks. "What're you... Why aren't you taking notes?"
"I'm sorry, were you not in that room?" Barry snaps.
"What?" He replies, furrowing his brow. "Oh! The thing you said about being promoted? Genius! Genius. He completely fell for it."
"I was serious. I'm looking at a $250K fine and 5 years in jail," Barry said. "That changes things."
"Promote you to editor?" Len shakes his head. "No, no way."
"Then I quit, and you're screwed." Barry starts to walk off. "Bye-bye, Len."
"Barry!"
"It really has been a little slice of heaven."
Len grabs his arm, and makes Barry face him again. "Fine, fine! I'll make you editor. Fine," he caves. "If you do the Alaska weekend and the immigration interview, I will make you editor. Happy?"
Barry stands in front of him with his arms crossed. "And not in two years," he insists, because he knows Len's tricks better than anyone. "Right away."
Len looks like he's swallowed a lemon, but he says, "Fine."
"And you'll publish my manuscript."
He narrows his eyes. "Ten thousand copy first..."
"Twenty thousand copies, first run." When he nods, Barry continues. "And we'll tell my family about our engagement when I want and how I want."
Snart huffs at him. "Fine."
"Now, ask me nicely."
Len arches a brow.
"'Ask you nicely' what?"
Barry smiles. "Ask me nicely to marry you, Len."
Len's eyes narrow.
"What does that mean?"
"I want a real proposal."
"Barry," Len warns, "don't push your luck."
But if he thinks Barry is going to keep letting him push him around after all of this, he's got another thing coming.
"If you want me, you've got to ask me."
"No," Len says, closing his fists tightly. "And, by the way, I don't want you, I-"
"C'mon, Len, if you want me to marry you, the least you can do is ask nicely," Barry purrs, savoring every second of Len's humiliation. "On your knee."
Len glares at him, but Barry is not going to back off now. He's playing hard to get, and since Len is already pissed off, he's only making it worse. However, the look on his face is priceless and Barry's going to make him work for it.
Len rolls his eyes. "Fine." He takes Barry's hand and lowers himself to the ground, kneeling on the dirty city streets. "Is this working for you?"
"Oh, I like this. Yeah, this is definitely working for me," Barry chortles.
Len sighs, exasperated. "Will you marry me?"
"No." Len groans. "What kind of proposal is that? Say it like you mean it," Barry demands.
Len closes his eyes, counts to five and takes a deep breath.
"Barry?"
Barry smiles. "Yes, Len?"
"Sweet Barry?"
Barry watches amused as Len delicately reaches up for his hand again. "I'm listening," Barry concedes, licking his lips.
"Would you please, with cherries on top, marry me?"
It's far from the romantic fairytales he's always dreamed of, but he can't pretend he's not entertained (and okay, maybe a little turned on) by the sight of Len kneeling in front of him on the dirty sidewalk. Barry makes him wait for the reply, bites his lower lip, narrows his eyes, pretends to be giving it a second, third, even fourth thought. "OK. I don't appreciate the sarcasm, but I'll marry you. See you at the airport tomorrow... dear."
As he walks away from a sulky Len getting himself back on his feet with a groan and lamenting the state of his pants, Barry shakes his head and chuckles to himself. That is his fiancé, of all people. At least he's hot, Barry thinks. Even if you hated his guts, you had to admit, Leonard Snart was drop dead gorgeous.