“Not now, Phil.” He heard her hard voice coming from the chair to his right. He could tell she was clenching her teeth; another sign she was trying to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t fool him.
Sometimes, Daichi doesn’t quite get that safety is one thing, but happiness is an entirely different matter.
The silence between them was loaded and heavy, heavier even than the clouds on the horizon. Suga liked their colour, usually, could see a certain kind of beauty in them rather than a foreboding sense of rain. Today, though – today, even a clear blue sky would have only weighed down on his mood.
“What’s going on?”, Daichi asked him, finally, and Suga clenched his fists and looked down at them in his lap. Not only had he spent the majority of his day scooped up in his own home without being able to do anything worthwhile for the people in the city, now he had been forced into … into this.
And how was he supposed to talk about it with Daichi, of all people?
“My parents, they …” He absent-mindedly rubbed at the green on his fingertips, caused by all his fussing with herbs ever since the talk this morning.
I could really use some coldflash falling asleep with one's head in the other's lap if you can squeeze it in :)
(for you, my darling? absolutely :D<33)
Barry’s sitting in the lounge room at STAR Labs with Caitlin and Cisco, wearily rehashing their plan for dealing with the latest meta causing untold destruction around Central City, when the alarms signalling an intruder start blaring.
Cisco gets to his feet with a yelp, but before any of them can do anything else, Leonard Snart strolls into the lounge at a clipped pace, the lines of his face set in deep annoyance. He’s wearing an oversized STAR Labs sweatshirt and loose sleep pants, parka and cold gun nowhere in sight, and Barry shares a bewildered look with Caitlin as the man makes a beeline for Barry.
“What in the world–” Caitlin murmurs, but she trails off when Barry squawks indignantly, suddenly on the receiving end of a lap full of supervillain.
“Len, what the hell,” he yelps, and Len glares, yanking Barry’s arms up and out of the way as he settles down just so.
“It’s three in the morning, and you weren’t home,” he grumbles, squashing his face in Barry’s lap. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Barry pauses for a beat, two, then grins mischievously, hands already curling around Len’s shoulder and running over his closely-cropped hair. “Poor baby,” he croons, eyes twinkling, “are you saying you can’t sleep without me?”
“Shut up,” Len grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Barry chuckles a little, indulgent as ever.
“Do you want to go home?” he murmurs, and Len sighs, snuggling down even further into Barry’s lap.
“No, s’okay,” he mumbles back, face already evening out, tense lines relaxing as slumber reclaims him. “Just sleep here.”
“Sounds good, baby,” Barry whispers, and he trails the pads of his fingers over Len’s cheek, bending over to press a soft kiss against Len’s temple. He looks up to see Caitlin grinning faintly and Cisco pretending to retch, and rolls his eyes in fond exasperation.
“Knock it off,” he complains mildly, making sure to keep his voice down. “Now, Cisco, what were you saying?”
WestAllen is one of those disgustingly cute couples who’d wear shirts like ‘The Minnie to my Mickey’ and 'The Mickey to my Minnie’ with arrows pointing at each other or 'If lost, please return to Iris’ and 'I’m Iris’