Bb you KNOW what I want (coldflash its coldflash)
Ugh yes you DO. I love the idea of Barry using Len as a means of self-destruction. One idea I have is a fic where Barry goes back in time to stop the particle accelerator from exploding (to save Ronnie or to stop meta powers from destroying a good person or something like that) and as a result, ends up in an alternate timeline: no powers, no Caitlin and Cisco, Iris married to Eddie, everything calm and lots of people alive who wouldn’t be otherwise...
And Barry is feeling so fucking lost. Purposeless.
He tried to find excuses, to work his way into Caitlin and Cisco’s lives, but Caitlin was happily married to Ronnie with a kid on the way, and Cisco had just invented some gadget that was going to make him a millionaire and busy beyond his wildest dreams. He still hung out with Iris, but she and Eddie were still in their honeymoon phase and attached at the hip.
Barry at least wasn’t still living with Joe in this timeline. He had a crappy shoebox apartment on the wrong end of downtown, but there was a bus stop at the end of the street and a good selection of takeout restaurants in the neighborhood. By the end of the first month, he’d tried them all. Upon realizing this, he felt an ache inside. Because this was the sort of thing that would be his only thrill, from now on.
His feet carried him past the Indian fusion place, down into the seedier streets he had once patrolled, confident that he could take anything this town could throw at him. Of course, all he had going for him now was a pepper spray key chain and the beginnings of a death wish. Through an alleyway, he saw a familiar neon sign hanging above a doorway.
Saints and Sinners.
Barry chewed on his lip. He turned down the alley.
The bar was just as it had been in his own timeline - which was to say, pretty crappy with a rough crowd. Barry scanned the room, not really sure what he was even looking for until he spotted him.
Snart stood off near a corner where a few other tough customers were playing darts. He had a beer in hand, which he lifted, lips wrapping around the opening as he tipped his head back and swallowed. He looked the same, too. Arrogant, almost theatrical. Cold and sharp and assessing.
Barry got maybe twenty seconds of staring in before Snart’s eyes snapped over to him. His lip curled into a sneer as he stalked closer. “Keep staring, Bambi,” he drawled, “and someone might get the wrong idea.”
God, how sad was it that it was comforting to have Snart trying to threaten him? Barry lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. He had a couple of inches on Snart, which seemed to annoy him when he noticed. By some miracle, Barry’s voice came out steady. Flippant, even. “Or maybe the right idea,” he shot back.
The sneer slowly melted into a smirk. “Do you know who I am?”
“Oh, yeah,” Barry assured him. “I’m a big fan.”
