From that drabble meme: 93 -- coldflash!
For @moriavis -- thanks for the ask! I’ve never done one of these, so I hope it’s good! Thanks!
93. “I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”
Cisco just stared at him.
“I know!” Barry exclaimed. “I have no idea!”
The speedster ran a hand through his hair and started pacing like a crazy person, frantic and anxious.
“So, it’s almost Christmas,” he began, “and you know how it gets.” He gestured around them, to his apartment, which, as it did every year, looked like a tornado hit. A sigh. “First, it was just little things moving around that I know I didn’t move. And when I had a bad night, I woke up and the coffee pot was already on. And then when I went to make hot chocolate, all my mini—”
He stopped. Turned. Looked toward the kitchen.
“—marshmallows,” he continued slowly, holding a finger up to his mouth when Cisco shot him a look before pointing down the hall, “were gone.” He stepped in the direction of the light clanking noise. “Like, the whole bag, gone.”
The clanking paused, and Barry quickly rounded the corner, on the defensive. His eyes immediately fell on the high-tech gun lying across his island table, and his posture relaxed.
“Hello, Scarlet,” his boyfriend drawled as green eyes met ice-blue. “Cisco.”
“Cold,” the engineer greeted stiffly.
“Len,” Barry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “How did you even get in here?”
“I live on the fourth story.” Len just gave him a look, and he sighed again. “I guess that explains it.”
The man’s head tilted as he leaned against the island. “Explains what?”
Cisco scoffed, throwing his hands up and heading for the door. “Y’all have fun with that one. I’m out.”
As soon as the door closed, Len relaxed from the cool persona and smirked as his boyfriend shifted nervously. He moved to stand in front of the speedster, hands planting themselves on the man’s waist.
“Explains what, Barry?” he asked.
“Uh,” he said. “Really, it’s nothing—”
He stepped back, clearly not thinking, and Len moved with him. Then his back was against the wall, and there was no chance of escaping without his speed, which he couldn’t use with the other man so close.
“Is it?” Len hummed, eyes narrowed. “Why so flushed, then, Barry?”
Barry broke after five seconds of being under that stare. “Okay,” he blurted, “maybe I thought I was haunted, because I knew I locked the door and the windows, and it’s not like there were any huge signs that someone had been in here, and why would I just automatically assume that my boyfriend was—”
Len chuckled—almost a full-blown laugh—and cut his ramble off with a kiss that quickly turned heated.
A moment later, when they broke away, both breathing heavy, Len smirked.
“Why would you have automatically assumed that your boyfriend, the master thief, was picking the lock on the window to your fire escape and organizing your disaster of an apartment?” he drawled, voice lazy with sarcasm and snark even as he looked at him with an innocent expression. “Aww, you wound me.” He paused almost put out. “What gave me away?”
Barry rolled his eyes, arms winding around his neck. “I should have known by the mini-marshmallows.” He grinned, leaning in for another peck. “Thanks for the coffee, Len.”
“You’re welcome, Scarlet.”
