I've never heard of that book but OMG are you insane??? That would be the worst thing because Barry wouldn't want to move on and Len would just be sitting back, not wanting to be friends with Barry but respects that he's still in love with Eddie
Funnily enough I think this is exactly what happened in the book, it was really awkward for the people involved (although I think that might be because of the angel person possessing the living guy occasionally which was really weird) Plus Eddie would be really conflicted because on one hand he stills loves Barry but on the other, he knows he can’t expect Barry to not move on eventually. And poor Len is just stuck in the middle not knowing what to do.
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“Hey you called this number at like 3AM and we talked about some pretty heavy shit do you remember any of that?” Any pairing that you wish
((ColdFlash, because of course I pick that XD))
Barry was definitely not awake enough for this. It was ten in the morning and he should have been well-rested, at least to the point of being able to get his coffee without wanting to fall asleep in the queue - but last night, someone has once again confused ‘68′ and ‘86′ and called him at three in the morning.
It happened at least once every couple of months; turned out Barry’s number was almost the same as the local suicide prevention hotline, and Barry never had the guts to hang up on those poor people. After all, if somebody felt shitty enough they felt like they needed to call for anonymous counselling in the middle of the night, then making a mistake with a phone number and being hung up on could set them off even worse, couldn’t it? It just never sat right with Barry to tell those people the truth: so he did his best to listen, to keep them talking as long as possible in hopes that it would help. He even got a few books after the third time it happened. Iris made light-hearted fun of him when he told her; and then, she frowned and told him that he should direct those people to the right number, because he was far from a licensed therapist and he could do more harm than good, in the end.
But he never quite brought himself to do that at the beginning of such a call. He let the people rant, wind down, and if it sounded like they weren’t doing much better by the time Barry had done whatever was in his power, he explained... but usually, the people thanked him and hung up before he could get around to confessing that he was, in fact, just a forensic scientist with an unfortunate phone number.
But never, to this day, had he ever heard the voice from those phone calls out in the streets.
The tall man in front of him was holding his phone against his right ear with his left hand, then switched, his other hand rooting around in his pockets for change, because it would soon be his turn to order.
“Yes, Lisa - no, I don’t think you should wear- no. Definitely not. Why are you even calling me?” he was saying, and his voice had a little sardonic lilt to it. It had not been there yesterday - he’d sounded soft, almost broken as he spoke about the anniversary of his mother’s death, about his father in jail, about his sister who he worried about... for a while, Barry’s heart stopped at the similarities between their lives. And then, the guy took a sharp breath and spoke more about his father, about the kind of childhood he and his sister had, the bruises, the screams, the constant terror. He said that his father was due to be released from prison soon, and how he didn’t know what would happen, if the man would try to find him or his sister. He’d sounded terrified, and Barry had been so close to telling him to call the actual hotline... but then he swallowed, so loudly that Barry could hear it on the other end of the phone, and thanked Barry for his help.
“Whoever this is... thank you,” he said and he sounded better, as if he’d flipped a switch, as if he’d just needed to pour out the excess of all those overflowing feelings so he would have room to take more, of everything. “I needed this. I can’t tell my sister any of it, she deserves to be free of all this shit. Thanks again.”
Then he hung up, just as Barry’s alarm clock switched to 4:53.
And now, he was standing in front of Barry at Jitters and he was tall and gorgeous and... laughing into his phone softly, talking to his sister like nothing was wrong, like he had not spent so much time, just a couple of hours ago, venting to a stranger about anxiety and depression and childhood traumas he always swept under the rug and could never quite overcome.
Barry was reaching out before he could stop himself. This was a horrible idea - the worst he ever had, probably. And he could not prevent his hand from touching the man’s elbow.
He visibly tensed under Barry’s touch, but he mumbled ‘call you later’ to the phone and turned to Barry with a raised eyebrow. They were the same height, more or less, but he felt so much larger. Maybe it was in a way he carried himself, with easy confidence, like he knew exactly how much space he took up and refused to apologize for it.
“Can I help you?”
“Uh... hey. I think... we talked last night? Um. On the phone.”
The dark blue coat reflected in his eyes when they went wide. Barry could read panic in his face and he felt like an idiot - however, there was no way but forward now.
“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Anything. I mean I don’t even know your name, I just recognized your voice and-”
“Pretty sure those hotlines are supposed to be anonymous, kid,” the man sneered. God, he was perfect, even with that cruel, sarcastic twist to his mouth. Barry winced and felt his cheeks heat up.
“I... uh. Yeah. I guess?”
“You guess,” the man repeated. More irony - had Barry not heard him so vulnerable just hours ago, he would’ve believed all the bristles and spikes in his armor. “Then I guess you’re shit at your job, kid.”
“That’s... I’m actually a forensic scientist,” Barry shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. “You kinda got the wrong number?”
He could see the moment the implications dawned on the man. His whole face went hard, unreadable, and the pocket of his coat where his hand was still hidden bulged, as if he’d clenched his fist.
“You didn’t think to let me know earlier?”
He sounded pissed, and he stepped into Barry’s space, glowering. That was the first moment Barry realized he had maybe an inch on the guy.
Not that it would help him if the man decided to beat the crap out of him; Barry was all wiry limbs and very basic self-defense training. Judging by the way the guy’s arms strained in the confines of his coat, it was safe to assume that if this man threw a punch, Barry would feel it. For days.
“You sounded like you needed to talk!” he yelped and stepped back - he stumbled into a table and heard cups clinking and people hissing, and he turned to apologize, which let his elbow fly into the face of the unfortunate woman sitting right behind him.
A strong hand curled around his bicep and pulled him close to a very solid, very warm chest.
The guy’s eyes were even more ridiculously blue up close.
“You’re a walking disaster, aren’t you,” he sighed, and Barry mentally groaned.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed in defeat. “For everything. I just... I didn’t want you to go and... you know. Hurt yourself.”
The man frowned.
“I wasn’t suicidal, kid, for fuck’s sake... I just needed to unload.”
“Forgive my mistake - you did call suicide prevention,” Barry huffed. “Well. Tried to.”
The guy stared at him for a few seconds, then simply rolled his navy eyes (how did anyone even have navy eyes, seriously) and pulled Barry out of the coffee-shop by the elbow.
“Hey! I said I’m sorry! No need to get all violent, okay?” Barry yelped, and the guy let him go once they were outside.
And then laughed at him.
The sound was throaty and raw and defeated, and Barry couldn’t help when his mouth quirked up to a smile in response.
“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “Can I buy you apology coffee?”
Blue-Eyes blinked and then laughed again: “So first you lie about being a counselor, and now you’re asking a seriously damaged guy out? Is that why you pretend to be a hotline? Does that get you off?”
“NO!” Barry yelled in horror, before he realized the guy was still smiling, and he probably wouldn’t be if he truly believed Barry was some sort of a pervert who actually wanted to hear people be miserable.
“Is that ‘no, I’m not asking you out’ or ‘no, I don’t actually get off on being called in the middle of the night about strangers’ issues’?”
“The latter,” Barry snorted, then blushed bright red and hastily added: “The former, too. I mean. Um. I did offer coffee, but...”
“How about we find another coffee shop while you figure that out? I don’t think they’ll let you come back to this one anytime soon, and I’ve got thirty-seven minutes before I need to be someplace else.”
Hi I was wondering if you take request or knows someone who does. I've been looking all over for gifs of smallville's zatanna zatara and can't find any
We’re more than happy to take your request. :) We’ll try to post it as soon as possible.
