Archive of Our Own

"Please," Lisa says. "They'll have a chocolate fountain there. I know how much you love a good chocolate fountain."

Len looks up from his book to glare at her. "I'm not an escort and your friend can't pay me in chocolate."

"He's not trying to hire an escort." Lisa rolls her eyes. "I told you, he just needs a platonic date to pretend to be his loving boyfriend for a few hours. Nothing overnight. Nothing sexual. Maybe a little PDA if it comes down to that, but only in case of emergency!" she rushes to add at Len's judgemental stare. "The wedding's in three days and he's willing to compensate you for your time."

"Guess you didn't tell your friend I'm an ex-con?" Len's eyebrows lift in question. 

"As a matter of fact, I did," Lisa replies. "He's desperate and he's willing to overlook it."

Len snorts. "Flattery will get you anywhere."

"C'mon, Lenny." Lisa's voice takes a more pleading tone. "Don't think of it like that. Just view it as a blind date that I set up for you, with my cool friend I think you'd really like."

"A blind date to his ex-girlfriend's wedding, on Valentine's Day no less. You're right, sounds very cool."

"Barry is the one who broke it off back then, and he and Eddie are friends. It won't be like that."

Len sighs, setting the book aside. "He's going to bring a man as his date to his ex-girlfriend's wedding after he broke up with said girlfriend because she was a huge bitch about him telling her he's bi. What, exactly, is making you think it won't be like that?"

He kind of feels sorry for this Barry person. Personally, his advice would have been to skip the wedding altogether and send the happy couple a present from a distance if he really wanted, but apparently, Barry hasn't made avoidance into an art form like that.

"Iris's learnt something since then," Lisa says. "Plus, she's so in love with Eddie she probably won't even notice there are guests there."

Len shakes his head.

"Will you at least agree to meet with him? I'll do your laundry for the next month." Now she's definitely doing her last chance pleading routine. "And I'll buy you that take-out pasta you like."

"Fine. I'll meet with him." Len sighs. "My laundry for the next month, and two take-out pasta meals. And I get to pick the sauce."

The whole thing still feels a little seedy to him, but it also seems kind of innocuous, too. A little on the desperate side, but sort of harmless at the same time.

*

Len walks into CC Jitters looking for the most unattractive person in the room. He's fairly certain that the friend of Lisa's he's meeting is going to be some horribly unattractive guy with bad breath who can't find a date to save his life, which is why he had to resort to bribing unsuspecting ex-cons with an offer for an exorbitant amount of cash for a few hours. But none of the men there are horribly unattractive— most of them are average in appearance and there are a few who are outright attractive. Len glances at the clock on his phone. He's five minutes early so maybe his horribly unattractive potential date is running late.

He's contemplating getting a caffeinated beverage of some sort to look less conspicuous when he hears a soft, timid voice at his side.

"Len?"

Len looks to his right, fully expecting someone grossly repulsive, but instead, he sees a really pretty brunette with sharp cheekbones and soft pink lips. Len cannot believe that this is the person he's meeting. But he ventures a guess anyway.

"Barry?"

Barry nods and blushes. "Sorry I'm late. Could we..." his cheeks turn even more pink and he glances around. "Go outside to talk?" he asks.

"Sure."

Barry gives him a small grin. "Uh, do you want something? I'll get it."

Len shrugs. "If it's your dime."

"It is."

They wait together in line, with Len ordering an iced Americano. Barry orders a caramel macchiato and they walk outside together and sit down.

"So..." Len says, because the silence is awkward.

Barry looks mortified.

"So..."

"So, why do you need a date bad enough you're willing to pay for it?"

Barry turns bright red. "Shh!" he said, leaning over the table toward Len. He glances around to see if anyone heard, but no one is paying attention.

"You just don't look like someone who'd have to resort to paying for it, that's all."

Barry blushes. "Yes, well..." he trails off for a moment. "I'm kind of in a bind." He says in a rush. "I kept putting this off, thinking I'd have more time, and before I knew it, the wedding's in two days and I still don't have a date. So. I'm willing to offer you $10,000 to be my date. If you agree, I'll write you a check for $5,000 right now and you can have the rest of the money after."

That... is a life-changing amount of money. There has to be a catch somewhere.

Len raises an eyebrow. "Is this some weird sex thing? Why are you paying this much? This isn't some weird pay for sex thing, is it? Because if you have some kind of fetish that you can't ask a regular date, I sure as hell won't be the one to do it."

Barry is immediately crimson again. "No!" he exclaims. He hunkers down in his seat when he sees that he was loud enough to call attention to himself. "It's for your discretion, and any possible expenses, like buying a new suit or shoes. And any lost wages that you may have earned if you work on Saturdays and need to ask for the time off. But mainly for your discretion."

"Why, are you planning on running for Congress in a few years?"

Barry snorts at that, and smiles genuinely for the first time, a full, wide bright smile. "Running for office is not my style, no."

"So why couldn't you bring one of your friends to this thing?"

Barry sighs. "It's kind of a long story."

"I've got time. You know, being an unemployed ex-con right now and all."

Barry doesn't react like this is news to him, at least. With Lisa, it's always best to double-check.

"My ex-girlfriend is getting married and I'm going to the wedding and -"

"Let me guess, you want to make her jealous? Show her what she's missing?"

Surprisingly, Barry shakes his head. "If I go alone to the wedding, her family is going to worry and I can't make them worry anymore. They've been after me for four years to date someone else and they don't get that I just don't want to, and I don't have the time. I'm really busy, so I honestly don't have the time. Just pretend to be my boyfriend for the wedding and make them think, I don't know, that I can sustain a relationship."

"Well, can you sustain a relationship?"

Barry scowls. "Of course I can!"

"Then why don't you have a date to take to this soiree?"

"Because I told you, I'm very busy," Barry says, miffed. "Anyway. I don't want to sleep with you, you don't even have to kiss me. Just pretend to be my date—"

"How can I believably pretend to be your date if I don't kiss you? Not that I want to, of course. But I think people might become suspicious by the total absence of affection."

"It's a wedding, not an orgy."

"No one said I was going to taste your tonsils."

Barry wrinkles his nose in disgust. "That is a very gross image. And I had mine taken out when I was 16."

Len shrugs. "I'm just trying to lay down some parameters."

Barry gives a slight nod. "OK," he says quietly. "I'm not sure how to...I mean, I've never done anything like this before," his gaze drops. "I don't know, just pretend, OK? It's not like I've ever done this, I thought I'd have a date by now, but I don't. And if I take another platonic friend date to one of these functions, they're going to, like, stage an intervention or something. I can just feel it. They don't have a reason to be worried, I promise. And I'm not asking for anything serious. Just tell them you're happy with me and I'm happy with you. We'll eat some overpriced food, drink some wine, share a few dances, take a few pictures, you'll tell them I'm normal and not the freak they think I am. You have to be on your best behavior—"

"I don't need to be told to be on my best behavior. I'm not a six year old. I am very charming, you know."

"You're not charming me right now," Barry points out.

"Then why are you still here?"

Barry crosses his arms. He huffs. "I told you, I'm desperate. And Lisa is vouching for you, and I do trust her, even if I don't totally trust you yet."

Len can't help but laugh at such an endearingly honest answer. Oh, what the hell, he figures. For $10,000, he can be a little uncomfortable for a few hours. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

"So nothing physical?" Len asks.

Barry shakes his head emphatically. "No. Definitely not."

"And it's just for one night?"

"Well, Saturday afternoon through the evening. The wedding is at 3, so you should be home no later than midnight."

"And you're paying me this huge sum of money because you..."

"Because you can't ever tell anyone about this. And because you really need to sell the fact that you like me. Do you have any acting experience?"

Len shrugs. "Not really, but I can keep my mouth shut."

"That'll have to do, I guess," Barry says. He shifts uncomfortably. "I don't even care so much if you tell people, just as long as you don't tell anyone at the wedding. And like, don't post about this on the internet, because they'll find out and I'll never hear the end of it."

Len is amused. "All right. For $10,000, I'll make everyone at that wedding believe that I think you're the best thing since sliced bread. How fancy is this wedding, by the way?"

"Medium fancy," Barry tells him. "I bought a new suit, but I only spent about $200 on it. It was on sale. If you wanted to buy something nice, I think the money I'm paying you would more than cover it."

"Agreed," Len says.

Barry looks hesitant. "You really won't post it to the internet or anything?"

"I live by a code," Len says. "If you don't try anything funny with me, I won't do anything like that to you. I promise."

Barry looks relieved and he sticks his hand out. "I believe you. Do we have a deal?"

Len shakes his hand. "Yes."

If nothing else, he'll get to watch a train wreck from close-by without being bothered by the fact that he knows any of those people well.

*

Barry writes him a check for $5,000 which Len deposits immediately. If the check bounces, it will be too late by the time the wedding came around, but he'll exact his revenge quickly on his sister and her friend. He doesn't think it will, though. Len usually had good instincts about such things.

Barry emails Len a document that is 45 pages long which details his life, his likes and dislikes, his interests and pet peeves, his resume and various other details. It's all things that someone who is dating him reasonably should have known, but it's detailed enough that Len feels like he knows Barry better than people he's known for over a decade. It is, however, lacking in the details about his ex-girlfriend and their break-up. This is the thing that Len is most curious about.

It does turn out, however, that they have a few things in common. Both born and raised in Central City, they'd both lost their mothers young and grown up in the foster care system after their respective fathers went to jail. That was where the similarities ended, however. Barry had made it a point to highlight that his father had been falsely accused of his mother's murder, going as far as to include newspaper clippings of the man's eventual release and exoneration. And where Barry had found a loving home with the West family (which includes his ex-girlfriend and apparent foster sister Iris, and isn't that delightfully incestuous, Len snarks to himself), Len had bounced around the system, shoved from one family to another. 

It's a lot to take in, and definitely not the backstory Len had expected someone who looks as squeaky-clean as Barry to have. 

In return, Len sends back a mini life history, which Barry immediately complains isn't detailed enough. But it really doesn't matter how much Barry knows about Len, because really, Len could tell people he was half Inuit and half Romanian (neither of which were true) and that he floated into America on an iceberg. No one at this wedding knows him, so all his details can be made up on the spot. Barry, on the other hand, is known to those people and Len has to do a little homework.

He's curious anyway, so he googles him and finds more articles about his mother's murder. The details are fairly grisly and Len feels a little tug of empathy for Barry. Len's eyebrows raise when he reads that the killer had been the man who eventually became Barry's mentor all along, and then they raise higher when he reads that the guy left his fortune to Barry when he died, for some godforsaken reason. He figures that explains why Barry would have $10,000 to spend on a fake date, even if it doesn't explain why he'd even want to in the first place.

With a backstory like that, Len muses, it's a miracle that Barry isn't more fucked up. He seems way too timid and embarrassed about the whole thing to try anything skeevy, though. Plus, it's a wedding, hello, free food, and he won't tell Lisa but Len does sort of want to see that chocolate fountain.

*

It rains the morning of the wedding, and Len almost hopes the whole thing will be cancelled. No such luck, though.

Barry doesn't own a car, so Len has to pick him up. The wedding is in a three-star hotel, which is about a 45 minute drive. 

Barry is ten minutes late to meet him at the bottom of his apartment building, but he looks like a freaking candy bar in his suit so Len magnanimously chooses to forgive him. 

"You look very handsome," Barry tells Len awkwardly.

"Thanks," Len says. "So do you."

Once again, Len has to wonder why some attractive 20-something rich scientist guy would have to resort to paying for a date. He decides on the spot that though Barry is gorgeous, he's definitely really issue-y. Len likes issue-y people because he knows he himself is issue-y. When his relationships fail, and they inevitably do, he can always blame it on the other person being issue-y, provided that the person he dated is issue-ier than he is. They almost always are. Barry is pinging his issue-dar like crazy at the moment.

"So, how homophobic can we expect this shindig to get?" Len asks as they drive. "Lisa said your ex-lover-slash-sister freaked out when she found out you were bi."

Barry glares at him. "She didn't freak out, she just... doesn't think it's a real thing. And she's not my sister." His frown deepens.

"Let me guess, she thinks all queer guys are secretly gay," Len says. He's met a few of those in his time.

"Kind of, but more like... She thinks whoever you 'end up with' defines your sexuality. Almost like you're an undecided voter and then one day you just... pick a team, I guess."

Len scrunches up his face. "So if you and her had ended up together..."

"That would've meant I was admitting that I was always straight, yeah," Barry finishes his sentence for him. "She says she doesn't think that anymore, but who knows?" He sighs. "Look, can we talk about something else? You don't have to worry about anyone there calling us slurs or anything like that. They're very nice. Don't let any of them corner you and talk to you one on one though," he adds. "They'll ask you a million questions and I swear to God, they're like bloodhounds and this whole thing will fall apart in seconds. Once, when I was fifteen, I smoked a cigarette and hours later, Joe could like, smell it on me and gave me a three-hour lecture on lung cancer and lymphoma."

"Got it," Len says. "Avoid one-on-one heart-to-hearts with your ex-girlfriend's family."

Barry gives a slight nod. "Yeah."

They drive along quizzing one another about each other's lives, and correcting their misapprehensions. It's all business. By the time they get to their destination, Barry takes a deep breath and turns to Len.

"Thank you," Barry says sincerely. "I don't really care what you do or what you say, just as long as you make them think I'm happy," he says softly. "Just tell them you're happy with me..." he pauses. "Or at least that I'm not completely lacking," he jokes, but there is an undeniable undercurrent of low self-reproach behind that. "And that I'm happy with you. That's all you need to do, OK? And the minute I drop you off, I'll write you another check for $5,000 and you won't have to ever see me or talk to me again as long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"Fine by me," Len says.

*

Len passes his keys to the valet and then he and Barry walk into the hotel together. Barry gently takes Len by the arm and goes up to room 3303.

He knocks on the door and within minutes it's flung open.

"Barry! Finally!"

"Hi Wally."

Wally, the bride's brother, is not yet in his suit. He throws his arms around Barry and Barry chuckles. 

"Hey, little bro," Wally said. 

"I'm older than you!"

Wally grins. "Yeah, but I'm an old soul."

Barry rolls his eyes and gestures to Len. "Wally, this is my date, Len."

Wally smiles warmly at Len and impulsively hugs Len as well.

Len forces himself to stand still. People who hug strangers creep him out. 

"Hi!" Wally greets. "Wow, I can't believe you actually exist."

"Hey!" Barry exclaims, blushing.

"Well!" Wally says. He pulls them into the room. "You wouldn't tell us who your date was for like, two months and then you tell Iris two days ago that you really are bringing a date! I thought it was going to be like that time last year when we invited you for drinks and you said you were bringing some new guy you were seeing but then you called an hour before to cancel and said you had food poisoning."

"I did have food poisoning!" Barry exclaims, defending himself whilst simultaneously exchanging hugs and greetings with the other men in the room. He'd been asked to be a best man, but he didn't think the bride's ex-boyfriend was an auspicious choice for a wedding party and declined. 

"You were at work the next morning."

"I recover very quickly."

"You said you felt like you were dying."

"I may have been exaggerating."

Wally chuckles. "Whatever." He bangs on the door to the bathroom. "Dad! Barry and his date are here."

There's the sound of the water running and then stopping and then an older and sterner version of Wally emerges from the restroom.

"I know, son," he says wryly. "I heard you."

Wally's father pulls Barry into a hug. "I'm glad you came."

"I wouldn't have missed it," Barry says sincerely. "Joe, this is my date, Leonard."

Len feels uneasy as Joe gazes at him, very appraisingly. According to Barry's files, his foster father used to be a cop before handing in his resignation to protest police violence, but he's still got the mannerisms and the suspicion inherent to that profession. 

"How long have you two been dating?" Joe asks.

"Six months," Barry and Len say in unison in a way that comes across as practiced, because it is.

"Is it serious?"

"Medium serious," Barry and Len say together.

Joe raises an eyebrow. "Barr, I'm talking to Leonard."

"But—"

"Barry."

Barry pouts. "Sorry."

Joe turns to Len. "What's Barry's favorite color?"

"Red."

"Favorite musical?"

"RENT."

"Favorite movie?"

"Jurassic Park."

"Favorite singer?"

"He claims it's Jeff Buckley, but I think it's really Lady Gaga."

Barry never said anything about that, but he looks like the kind of person who is a closet fan of mindless pop music.

"Len!" Barry exclaims, cheeks tinged with pink.

"What? I'm sure it's true."

"Favorite TV show?"

"Dragon Ball Z."

"Favorite football team?"

"Trick question, Barry doesn't watch football, ever since that one incident in high school that he made you swear not to talk about again."

"Best quality?"

Len pretends to think. 

"His extensive collection of Star Wars memorabilia," he says with a straight face. But it is really a bluff, because he has no idea what it is. 

Still, it works, because everyone laughs.

"Worst quality?"

"A strong tendency towards chronic lateness," Len says, which seems like a safe bet considering Barry has only met him twice and managed to be late both times.

"I'm not always late!" Barry interjects. "I-"

"Well, he's not a rent boy," Joe tells Wally.

"What?!" Barry and Len ask together.

Barry looks aghast.

Wally is amused. "Dad thought you were going to hire someone to be your date so we'd finally get off your back about dating again. I told him he was being ridiculous, but you know him."

Barry has visibly paled. "Haha, that's hilarious," he says. "Isn't that funny?" he asks, looking at Len.

"Haha, Barry," Len says.

"Haha, Len."

Barry takes a deep breath and forces a smile. "OK. Well, I think Len and I are going to take our seats. Do you guys need anything?"

Joe, Wally and the other men in the room shake their heads.

"OK, then." Barry grabs Len by the hand and bolts.

*

Once they're safely outside the room, with the door closed, Barry drops Len's hand and flings himself against a wall.

"Oh. My. God," he breathes. "They're onto us"

"They're not onto us," Len says. "Joe said I'm not a rent boy. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not, by the way."

Barry covers his face with his hands. "Oh my God!"

Len takes Barry's hand. "Calm down and pull yourself together," he says firmly. "I saw some water in the lobby, let's go get some, OK?"

Barry nods. "OK."

*

The wedding itself is short and sweet. They find a nice spot next to Lisa and her boyfriend Cisco, and, as Barry whispers in his ear, far away from Eddie's cousins, who are mean and smell like Axe Body Spray.

"Is that him?" Len whispers back a few minutes later, nodding towards a blonde guy in a surprisingly fitting tux who looks like he's about to hyperventilate any second and has just appeared by the altar.

Barry nods. "Yeah, that's Eddie. The groom."

He's cute, Len thinks, if by cute you mean the most disgustingly cookie-cutter all-American guy ever from a fifties newspaper ad trying to sell you DDT to spray on your roses.

He kind of wants to tell Barry his ex-girlfriend downgraded, but Barry is friends with the groom; Len is here to enjoy the train wreck, not to be in the center of it.

"I'm a bit uncomfortable," Barry admits a few seconds later, whispering into Len's ear. "Are you?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," Barry whispers.

"It's OK," Len whispers back.

And it is, because, really, it's a little uncomfortable, but it's $10,000 and Barry is sweet and seems completely harmless. There are worse ways to make some money.

On impulse, he reaches out to squeeze Barry's hand. He looks unsure and nervous, but Len catches his eye and smiles at him. After a second, Barry relaxes and squeezes Len's hand back.

*

The dinner and reception are a whole other matter, however. Everyone comes by to talk to Barry and by extension, everyone talks to Len as well. Barry is sweetly solicitous and attentive towards him and for a while, Len thinks that Barry's act is a little much—until he sees that Barry treats everyone that way and realizes it's just his personality. But a few people—the ones who Barry almost imperceptibly winces when he sees them coming near— they are inappropriately personal, bringing up his relationship with Iris and what a shame it was that they couldn't make it work. Which would be rude enough on its own, considering they're at Iris's wedding, but after a while Len feels himself becoming insulted on principle, because hello, he is Barry's date and Barry should be so lucky to land him. Barry smiles and goes along with it, but Len has seen the way he speaks so warmly to other people, so he can also see it when Barry seems uncomfortable. Then somewhere in the middle of all of it, Len turns to refer back to Barry on some mundane matter and sees that Barry is gone.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one," Len tells the older gentleman who asked if he and Barry had any plans of moving in together yet.

Len waits. And waits. And waits. And the entire time, people come up to him to ask about Barry, to ask him personal questions and he grits his teeth and toughs it out.

"He's great," Len tells everyone. "I'm very lucky to have met him."

He waxes poetic about how great Barry is, how sweet, and tells everyone the fake story of how they met (in a bookstore, they'd reached for the same copy of The Unbearable Lightness of Being and got to talking and Barry asked Len out, which was the part of the story that everyone seemed to have a hard time believing, and even Len himself found it sort of hard to believe and he wished he'd been able to convince Barry to say it was Len who asked Barry out, but Barry just seemed adamant that he wanted to be the one to ask Len out)

But really, he is going to kill Barry.

Len slips away discreetly to search for him and finds him standing outside in the garden.

"Barry."

Barry turns around to see Len and winces. "Oh! God. I'm sorry. Was I gone long?"

Len raises an eyebrow. "I don't know, when did you slip off? I noticed you were gone about thirty minutes ago though."

Barry winces again. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "It was just really overwhelming for me...too many people asking too many questions. And just being kind of inappropriate."

"They're asking me personal questions and being inappropriate with me, too! This is your friend's wedding, so you should be the one experiencing all this discomfort! You! Not me!"

"I'm sorry," Barry says sincerely. "Let's go back."

"Let's not go back right away," Len says. "They're all really nice, but they all really want to talk to you, too. It's a little much."

"See? That's why I needed to get away for a minute. I wish I smoked or something, but if Joe ever caught me smoking, he'd beat me."

"He'd really beat you?"

"Probably not," Barry admits. "But he'd tell Iris and she might."

"Hm," Len says noncommittally. "So you seem really close to them. Your ex's family, I mean."

"I am," Barry says with a nod. "They kind of adopted me as their own after my dad... you know. They love me and they don't have to, so I don't want to make them worry more than they should."

"You went through a lot of trouble for something that seems so simple. I mean don't you have any friends who could have pretended to be your date?" Len had asked this before, of course, but now that he's spent some time with Barry and has seen how eager people are to talk to him, he just can't imagine that Barry would be so desperate for a date that he'd have to resort to paying for one. After all, there has to be someone out there who would have done it for free. It just seems completely bizarre to him. It just doesn't fit.

Barry shrugs. "I love them," he says simply. "I'll let a few months pass by, and then I'll tell them things with you didn't work out. They know most of my close friend— both of them anyway, and I didn't want to bring a friend to this and risk having them in the same room again later. I needed someone they weren't likely to see again. I just needed to do something to put their minds at ease. They worry way too much about me."

"They really love you."

Barry smiles fondly. "Yeah," he says. His smile dims slightly. "It's nice, but it's a lot of pressure. They just worry about me all the time. And it just feels weird because they're Iris's family, not mine, you know? But they just keep pushing me to date again and it's like, God, I am happy and I am fine, I'm just busy and I haven't met anyone worth getting even busier for, you know? But they don't understand that, because they've convinced themselves that the reason I'm not dating is because I'm not over Iris."

"Are you?" Len asks curiously.

Barry shrugs. "I don't know. No. Yes. Maybe." He's irritated. "It's just...Iris and I almost ruined everything by dating. People think that best friends who date are going to be so much better off, but that's not how it works! We broke up because we didn't work as a couple, but it almost wrecked the best friendship I ever had."

"Why didn't you work as a couple?"

Barry shrugs. "I think we just wanted different things in life. She was my best friend, but that doesn't necessarily make someone a good girlfriend. We kind of grew into different directions."

"So you're really not hung up on her?"

"I am," Barry says. "But not that way you and everyone else thinks. She's my best friend." He swallows hard. "I don't miss my girlfriend, I miss my best friend," Barry confesses softly. 

Len nods. "Oh." He pauses. "Her family seems really understanding, why don't you just tell them that you're OK?"

Barry shrugs. "I tell them all the time, they just don't believe me. They think I'm pining over Iris, or something but I'm not."

Len raises an eyebrow. "What are you then, if you aren't pining?"

Barry shrugs again. "Taking a break, I guess. When we broke up, I was 22 and I'd been in love with Iris since I was ten years old. I've changed a lot since then, you know."

"I should hope so," Len says dryly. He and Barry share a smile. 

"So, what's your story? Close to your family?"

"Not particularly no," Len says. "Except for my sister."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, you know, Mom's dead, Dad's in jail, the usual."

Barry is appalled. "It's not funny."

"No, it's not," Len confirms.

Barry locks eyes with Len as if trying to read his mind. "Your dad's in prison, too? For real?"

"Yeah." Len gives him a lopsided smile. "We should form a club."

Barry hesitantly smiles back. "Do you wanna talk about it?" 

"Maybe," he says, his hesitation restraining him.  

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Barry says. "If you want a distraction we can talk about something else." 

Barry's genuine offer has warmth pooling in Len's gut, spreading out into his fingertips and toes. He feels comfortable with him. Safe. If anyone would hold the tragedy that is his life with gentle hands, it 's Barry. 

"No, I'm fine talking about it." 

The words shock even Len himself. 

"OK," Barry says, giving Len an opening to start. 

Len sighs, then begins. 

"My dad, he's... well, he's not a great guy." He waits, expecting some kind of response from Barry. There isn't one, so he continues. "That's an understatement, actually, but I dunno. Things are just a thousand times shittier when he's around." 

He pauses to draw in a long, cold breath and exhale slowly, trying to settle his nerves.

"When he's around, it's like...like a dark cloud, I guess? He's just everywhere all the time. Anything good I've ever had, he's ruined. And things have been good lately, for the first time in a long time. Or ever, really. I feel like a person again." 

He pauses.

"I don't feel like a person when he's around." 

The shocking revelation hits Len in the gut. He hadn't even realized it until he said the words, how dehumanizing Lewis's abuse really is. How much he feels like a scapegoat, a punching bag, rather than a real, living, breathing person. A person with autonomy and the ability to make their own decisions and choices. 

"I understand that feeling," Barry says quietly. The confession comes without prompting and yet, Len finds himself overwhelmed with relief. Barry gets it. Len knew he would, but the confirmation makes it more real, more tangible. 

"It's a shitty one," he says. 

"Super shitty," Barry says in agreement. "Do you feel... unsafe? When he's around?"

A loaded question if there ever was one. Len thinks about his response, going silent for a few heavy, contemplative moments. 

"Sometimes." 

It's true. It's not like he's constantly fighting for his life, running from the bull. Sometimes the bull sits down, or sleeps, or gets too tired to ram his unsuspecting kin with sharp, soul-crushing horns. It isn't constant, but the fear is constant. Len can't remember a time when his dad was around that he hasn't felt some semblance of fear. 

"Can I ask a question?"

"I guess."

"Is he the reason you were in jail?"

Another deeply loaded question. 

"It's complicated," is the answer he eventually settles on.

"Lisa said you robbed a liquor store."

Len wants to be mad that Barry went poking into his life, but truth be told, he is kind of impressed that Barry thought to ask Lisa about his arrest record. He'd been ready to write off Barry as too trusting for his own good, but it looks like he does have some self-preservation instincts after all.

"Did three years for armed robbery," Len confirms. "Well, actually, I had a B&E charge before that. But I can't even say that it was all his idea and I just drove the car or something like that. I planned it. I got us the guns we used. Just so you know."

Barry is silent for a moment. "Why?" he asks eventually.

"Because if my dad says we're robbing a liquor store, then we're robbing a liquor store," Len sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. "When we got busted, he let me take the fall and took off."

"For real? He just ran off?" Barry asks, clearly outraged. It's kind of cute how affronted he sounds on Len's behalf.

"That's dear old dad for you," Len says. "The dumb son of a bitch didn't even wait two weeks before trying to rob a convenience store and he ended up shooting the officer who tried to arrest him. He pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and a bunch of other charges, and got fifteen years. So, really, I got off easy."

"I don't know if I'd describe spending three years in jail as 'getting off easy'," Barry says skeptically.

Len shrugs. "I'd already been to juvie twice before I turned 18, so it was just more of the same." He hesitates. "The outside is way scarier than being locked up. I know the drill in there, who to steer clear of, and how to conduct myself. Out here, well, it's a different story. I'm struggling just to get anyone to call me back for work, and most landlords won't rent to felons. It's not like I want to become another statistic of the guy who landed himself back to prison because he couldn't figure out life on the outside, but it's hard not to feel like I've been set up for failure."

It's weird to be telling the story of one of his most difficult periods in life to a total stranger. But sometimes it's easier to tell a complete stranger the most intimate secrets and Len experienced this first hand when an elderly woman told him about the daughter she was going to visit in prison and the grandchild that had been removed from the daughter by child protective services whom she'd never met, and never would.

"Sorry I'm dumping this on you," Len says, voice hesitant and restrained. Barry blinks a few times, surprised. 

"Why are you apologizing?" 

"Because I know it's a lot." 

"It's really not." 

"But it is," Len insists. 

"I dunno, maybe to some people. Not to me." 

They lapse into silence for a while and then Barry puts his hand on Len's shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "You deserve better, Len."

The statement is short, simple, yet the profound impact it has on Len is immeasurable. The ache in his chest eases a bit, lightens. Some part of him, deep down, smothered by the dark and the cold, knows this. He knows it's true. He does deserve better. 

He doesn't know what to say or how to respond. Nobody has ever told him that before, save for Lisa. Nobody has ever dared to regard Len as anything other than another thug, a degenerative leech on society with no prospects, just like his father. 

"Thanks," he says, for it's all he can think to say in the moment. "Nobody's ever really told me that. That I deserve better than what I've got." 

"It's true," Barry says, voice genuine and sincere. "You deserve so much better. And I wish there was something I could do to make things better for you." A pause. "Will you tell me if there is?" 

Len bites at his lip and sniffs against the bitter air. 

"Yeah," he says softly, peering at Barry under his lashes. "Yeah, I think I will." 

"I hope you do," Barry says. "It would kill me knowing you're out there hurting if there was even the smallest chance I could do something to help." 

Len doesn't know what to say to that. It's too kind, too warm, too considerate. He isn't used to this. People simply don't offer those things— kindness, companionship — to a random guy they're paying to go to a wedding with them. And yet Len gets the sense that Barry genuinely means it. He'll help, if he can. Len believes him and he doesn't know what to do with that.

They sit in the quiet for a few minutes until Len sighs. They should get back.

"Come on," Len says standing up. "Let's get back inside before they think I kidnapped you."

Barry smiles and stands up. They walk back into the hotel, walking close but not touching. But once they get to the banquet room, they link arms right before Barry opens the door and gestures for Len to go inside first.

*

Len thinks this is the easiest money he's ever made. Barry is insanely respectful of his space— almost too respectful. He's just too...sweet. The food is delicious, the chocolate fountain, with little marshmallows shaped like hearts and the endless supply of strawberries, all for dipping in the chocolate, is scrumptious, and the music is great. Everyone seems to be in a good mood and if there's any wedding drama, Len isn't privy to it.

Once they get back into the banquet room, they play a video of a collection of pictures of bride and groom from childhood through adulthood set to music— a standard wedding thing. Barry starts featuring prominently when Barry and Iris were pre-teens and Len has to smile when he sees a picture of Barry and Iris hugging after a 5K race. 

The video finishes and people begin milling around again. The bride and groom are making the rounds of the party and soon come to join Barry and Len at their table.

Barry puts his arm around Len's shoulders and draw him in in close. "Hi guys," Barry greets. "You haven't met Len yet, right?"

The groom smiles. "No. It's nice to meet you, Len."

Len smiles back. He seems sweet. "It's nice to meet you, too."

"Has your date been good to you?" Iris asks with a grin.

"Iris," Barry sighs.

Len chuckles. "He's been very good," he agrees. "He's always been good to me the entire time I've known him."

It isn't a lie, Barry really has been good to him throughout the entire time they've known each other. It's just that they can count the length of their acquaintanceship in hours.

They chat a little longer and Len can tell they like him — as long as he's properly and convincingly adoring of Barry, they'll like him. He can tell.

Then the lights in the banquet room dim and they wheel out the cake. It's a sweetly cliché moment, because they begin to play a Sarah McLachlan song ("I Love You") and the spotlight is on the bride and groom. Barry watches with a wide, genuine smile and Len thinks about how nice it is to meet someone who can be genuinely happy for someone else.

The cake is delicious - possibly the best Len ever tasted. Barry nabs an extra piece and they laugh at the subterfuge as they share the extra slice. Len has to admit that in spite of the concerns he had about the evening, it's definitely not a bad way to pass the time. Barry keeps whispering little nuggets of information to him about the guests, and if Len ignores the rest of the table (they've been seated with Eddie's cousins, Wall Street-types who won't shut up about their portfolio) and only concentrates on Barry, the conversation is nice, too.

As other couples begin slowly making their way to the dance floor, Barry turns to him and asks, "Do you want to dance? With me, I mean."

"Sure," Len says. "Although I should warn you that I'm pretty rusty."

"It's all about the right partner." Barry glances back to where Iris is laughing at something Eddie has just said. "Not to toot my own horn, but I'm a pretty good dancer."

Barry pulls Len towards the dance floor as they start to move to the music. Barry immediately steps on his foot. Len is not impressed.

"You said you were a good dancer," he hisses. Len had not planned on making a fool of himself in front of this many people.

"You made me the girl," Barry complains, blushing scarlet. 

Len rolls his eyes, but he's willing to let Barry switch places with him if it will save his toes from getting stepped on, so he puts his arms around Barry's neck and looks at him expectantly. Barry is tall, maybe even taller than him, and Len feels his stomach somersault as Barry puts his arms around his waist, pulling their bodies together.

It has been a while since Len has last waltzed (at some distant relative's wedding, probably, and his family has always known how much alcohol was needed to keep the guests happy so his memories are quite foggy), and he's also used to leading, so if it wasn't for Barry patiently steering him where no one else is at the moment, Len is quite sure he'd have accidentally tripped someone with his legs. He does make a point to avoid Barry's feet, though, even if it means that he spends the first two dances staring at the floor.

They stop when the music does, but when it begins again, Barry doesn't move.

"Don't raise your legs," he says.

"Why?"

"Because dancing with someone is not about the steps." Barry pulls his hand from around Len's waist to bring it to his chin, tilting it up so that Len is looking Barry right in the eye. "Look at me, and move your feet but not up."

Len does as instructed, and slowly, Barry begins guiding him around the floor, their eyes never leaving each other. Barry really is a good dancer. The guy knows how to move his body, and he knows how to lead, no longer stammering or blushing, but confidently waltzing Len around the room in a way that makes Len feel like a feral cat in comparison. It's somewhat of a surprise, but not an unpleasant one.

"I feel like I'm at a high school dance," Len says. "Half the women are wearing unflattering pastel colors and pretty much none of the men have clothes that fit, and I've been led to believe that dragging your feet to the music is the height of slow dancing."

Barry moves a little closer. "There was no one in my high school like you."

Len tilts his head. "I could say the same."

"I've never slow danced with a guy before." Barry's lowered voice somehow overtakes the sounds around Len and, as the music slows down and Barry pulls away slightly, Len finds himself disappointed by the loss of contact.

"Did you like it?" he asks. He's a little dazed from the amount of time they've been staring at each other.

"I liked it." Barry swallows. "We're really good dance partners."

Len lets out a quick laugh. He moves away slightly but Barry slides an arm around his waist to pull him right back. 

"I'm going to kiss you, OK?"

"I—what?"

Barry tries to discreetly look at Iris and Joe out of the corner of his eye. The father-daughter duo are whispering amongst themselves, their sharp eyes sliding toward Len and Barry with open curiosity.

"OK?" Barry asks again, looking at Len with empathy in his soft eyes, and Len gets the sense that he'll back off the second Len says the word. Barry is incredibly genuine, really sincere and sweet—Barry's sweetness runs deep. 

"OK," Len says out of a short circuit of his brain.

Barry pulls Len's chin in closer. He just holds Len there for a second, quiet and breathless, and then he kisses him. It's just a closed-mouth kiss - delicate and lingering, like that Cranberries song. It's the kind of kiss that makes Len's nerves chime. When Barry lets him go, Len wants him back right away. 

"Sorry, I just—" Barry says, and then doesn't finish, embarrassed. He doesn't look at Iris or Joe, but Len can feel his awareness of them.

Len feels distant disappointment. "Don't be sorry," he says.

Slowly Barry's eyes rise to meet his. "No?"

Len clears his throat, his pulse hammering, his lips tingling. "No," he says quietly. Taking a deep breath, Len looks around. "Everyone here thinks I'm your boyfriend. We can kiss all you like."

Barry looks away again. "We can't," he says, but he doesn't say why not, and Len doesn't push.

Soon, beautiful ballads are traded for standard cheesy wedding songs, and when Len's foot gets trampled for the second time during an over enthusiastic rendition of "YMCA", they give up and take shelter in the foyer just outside the ballroom.

They sit on carpeted stairs and joke about the guests that filter in and out, now drunk and foolish as the party nears it's close. They make good-hearted fun of Lisa and Cisco as the pair attempts to sneak past them.

"Gentlemen," Cisco says, hands digging in his pockets. "Have a good night!"

"You first," Barry says in an insinuating tone that has Len snorting inelegantly. Cisco blushes furiously but lets Lisa drag him by the hand, skipping up the stairs that lead to the wedding party's assigned block of rooms.

"Be safe, kids!" Len calls after them. "And Lise, show him that thing I taught you with the banana."

"Shut up, Lenny!" she bellows back as Len and Barry dissolve into snide cackles.

*

Barry and Len leave around midnight, brushing off concerns that it's too late to drive. Len hasn't touched any alcohol the entire night (Barry's foster father has been watching him like a hawk, but either way Len wouldn't get drunk knowing he has to drive) and even drank a cup of coffee before they left, so he isn't worried. And anyway, midnight isn't all that late. Len is an insomniac and he knows he'll be up for a few more hours.

Unlike on the drive over to the wedding, in which their talk was all business and getting to know one another for the purposes of really selling the idea they were a couple, they talk amiably about a variety of topics on the drive back. Len doesn't feel any pressure this time.

"Iris pulled me aside and told me she wanted to know how to get in touch with you," Barry announces. "She said she'd pay you to marry me."

Len laughs. "How much is she willing to pay me?" he jokes.

Barry laughs as well. "Not enough," he says. They're quiet for a while until Barry speaks again. "Hey, how did you know I love Lady Gaga?"

Len laughs. "You just seemed like someone who'd love that kind of music but be embarrassed about liking it."

"I am a little embarrassed for myself," Barry admits. "I'm not really known for having good taste in much of anything. Not clothes, music, TV shows, dates..." he smiles and it's almost flirty. "I guess I'm pretty good at choosing a fake wedding date, but I'm not certain that is something I want to brag about."

Len smiles back. "Not everyone has that talent."

The topic drifts to movies they've seen recently and they realize they have a lot of the same interests, Barry's dubious tastes in music notwithstanding. The forty-five minute car ride is over much too quickly.

"Thank you," Barry says with a beaming smile when Len walks him to his door. "They really liked you. I could tell. They're sure to leave me alone about the subject of dating for a while now."

"What if they want me to come out with you or something?"

Barry shrugs. "I'll figure something out."

"OK. Well, I'm available if you ever need my services again. My rates are very reasonable."

"No, they're not," Barry chuckles, but there's something restrained about it. "Probably best if we don't, though."

"Alright," Len says, and even though he's told himself the same thing he can't help the tug of disappointment he feels hearing him say it. 

"Anyway," Barry says quietly into a lull in the conversation. "Thank you for being so kind to my family. And thank you for being discreet."

He pulls out his wallet and takes out another check for $5,000. He passes it to Len. "Really," he says. "Thank you. You have no idea how you saved my life tonight."

Len hesitates before he takes it. "Why pay so much? I mean, I'm sure a lot of people would have done it for free just to hang out with you and get some free food."

Barry shrugs. "It's like I told you, I've never done anything like this before," he admits. "I wasn't sure what was considered appropriate reward and $10,000 seemed like a good enough number."

Len folds the check in half and plays with it for a moment before holding it up, as if to contemplate it.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" Len asks suddenly.

Barry's forehead furrows. "Go out where? Like for a walk? It's pretty late, Len."

Len sighs. God, Barry is so bad at this.

"Do you want to go out with me?" Len repeats slowly. "On a date," Len adds because it seems like he'll have to in order for Barry to get it.

Barry stares at him for a moment, stunned. And then he takes a deep breath. "I think," he said wryly. "You'd be better off taking that check and running."

Len nods contemplatively. "I agree," he says. "You're issue-y. But I like issue-y."

"I don't know," Barry says. "I'm really terrible at dating. I mean, I told you, I'm not really dateable." He flushes. "I haven't dated anyone in over five years and I..." he blushes. "I haven't...uh...I haven't been intimate with anyone since then either."

Len's jaw falls open. "Five years? How have you not exploded?"

Barry groans and covers his head with his hands. "Five years is not that long!"

"It is that long, Barry. Seriously? No one? Nothing?"

Barry swallows hard. "Uh..." he says, his voice cracking a little. "It gets worse."

Len raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I haven't even kissed anyone in five years..." Barry's  voice trembles. "You were the first person I kissed in five years."

Len's eyes are wide. "Are you serious?"

Barry's cheeks are pink. "Yes."

"But didn't you go on dates or anything? I mean, five years?"

Barry is clearly mortified. "I did go on a couple dates here and there," he admits. "And I think I have been ready to move on, it's just...when it's been so long, it just kind of gets easier to allow inertia to keep you out of the game."

"Do you feel ready now?"

Barry shrugs delicately, making a face. "I don't know. I think so. I mean, it has been a little lonely. I really didn't feel it until I met you." He gives Len a hopeful smile. "Who knows, maybe it was fate that brought us together."

Len shakes his head.

"I don't believe in fate. I think that us meeting is one of the strangest accumulations of unpredictable events I've ever experienced, but everything beyond that has been our choice. I haven't read Unbearable Lightness in years, but suffice it to say that I like the idea of being in control of my own future, and guiding it towards something, rather than being pulled there against my will. Not sure if that's worse or better, but it's what it is."

Barry's smile grows slowly, but that just makes watching it a greater pleasure. 

"I really like you," he blurts out, "but it's really intimidating for me. I'm not certain I remember how to properly woo someone or like, do anything like this..."

Len is amused. "What makes you think you're going to woo me rather than the other way around?"

"Uh, because I'm clearly the woo-er and you're the woo-ee, Len."

"What do you mean, 'clearly'? If it were 'clear' then I would be in agreement and I am not."

Barry laughs, but then becomes suddenly serious. "Are you OK with the fact that I haven't..." he blushes again. "You know..."

"I'll try to live with it," Len replies dryly. "What do you think I am? A sex addict? It's fine, it's something we can work through. It's not like you have a tail or a third eye." Len pauses and peers at Barry's butt. "Do you?" he teases.

Barry blushes and instinctively covers his butt with his hands. "No!" he exclaims, laughing.

Len reaches for Barry's hand. "We'll start slow. It's called a date. Are you familiar with the concept? I know it's been a while," he teases gently.

Barry smiles. "You'll just have to take the lead on it."

Len traces Barry's lower lip with the pad of his thumb. He feels like his eyes are shining, which should have been a stupid feeling but isn't. "I'm going to kiss you, OK?" he says, echoing Barry's words from earlier. 

Barry pulls back slightly. "It's been a while," he said quickly, looking panicked and intimidated. "I mean, I'm out of practice when it comes to kissing, so if you're disappointed you have to let me know, OK, and I promise I'll try to up my game—"

"Barry," Len drawls. "You're fine. Shut up and just go with it."

And Barry does.