Leonard Snart // Captain Cold - IC Inbox

[hypothermic]

ID: coldasice

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[billionerd]

[ Ray's eyes go from Leonard's mouth to his eyebrows and then back down, fixing themselves on Len's lips. He wonders if the scar there was Mick's doing. He can picture it, Mick nicking him and being angry and frustrated and Leonard tossing the blade back to him and telling him to try again. He wants to know if that's what happened, but he can't bring himself to ask.

Still, though picturing both of his teammates ten years younger makes him laugh, he chokes it back and tries not to smile because there is still a blade to his throat, but he's not very successful. ]

Like Brando.

[ Saying it makes him almost laugh again. He's a little jealous of what his teammates have, that kind of easy trust that comes with a lifetime of knowing each other. But it also grounds him, makes him feel a little less guilty about the mess of feelings he's been having since that kiss— kisses. He should be working harder at getting over it, but at the end of the day he's not a threat to their relationship, he wouldn't have been even if something else had happened that night.

And even if it makes him feel a little lonely, it's good to know he wouldn't be a homewrecker even if he tried. ]

[hypothermic]

No smiling.

[ He says with a smirk, eyes slitting.

It's not always an easy trust. Both men are damaged beyond repair. The scar splitting Leonard's lip wasn't from Mick. That was his father's fist. Lewis had taught Leonard many things. Life lessons he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried.

That he wasn't worthy of love, and was only as important as his next job. How to fear. To hate.

He takes the razor below Ray's nose to remove any traces of a moustache with quick, short skiffs of the edge of the blade. He puts his thumb over Ray's upper lip to stretch the skin and protect it. ]

He likes Pacino too. Can't count how many times he's made me watch Scarface. I hate that movie.

[ To love, he'd learned from Lisa. To survive, he'd learned from Mick. To trust? That was something he was just beginning to understand. That, he was learning from Ray, and his experience being part of a team on the Waverider.

He clears the unfortunate patch of hair beneath Ray's lower lip with one stroke, carefully guiding the razor over the curve of his chin. There's still one cheek to go. Leonard's touch is as certain as ever, his gaze discerning. This kind of work is what he excels at. He can perform at this level for hours, fully focused, before his eyes get tired and his hands start to shake. His palms don't even sweat anymore. ]

Almost as much as I hate Top Gun.

[billionerd]

[ Keeping the smile at bay is a challenge, but he manages until the razor is safely away from his mouth. It comes back as soon as it's safe, though. ]

Come on, you love Top Gun.

[ He's still hyper aware of everything Leonard's doing, and he's still very obviously nervous, but it isn't as bad as it was just a minute ago.

Ray's always been good at rationalizing his feelings. It takes him a while but he's getting there, he knows where this attraction is coming from. Len has his back, he's helped him, he keeps looking after him. Ray' friends back home have never been that close. After coming back, out of the people who's known he was alive only Felicity had checked up on him, and mostly to tell him to come back.

He'd never had anyone making sure he was eating and sleeping, no one close enough to clue in on him needing it. No one who would go through the trouble to shave him... which granted, Len's getting a kick out of it, but so is he. And it's impossible for Ray not to enjoy the attention, not to love Len a little for giving it to him. ]

You don't learn by heart a movie you hate.

[hypothermic]

I've got a good memory. I remember all kinds of stupid crap I don't care about. It's a gift and a curse.

[ So maybe it's a lie that he doesn't like Top Gun, who doesn't? But the rest of it's true. He remembers everything. Even the stuff he'd rather forget.

Those few years before his father went to jail. The first time he'd seen his sister with a black eye. Leaving Mick after he'd saved him from the flame, and lost most of his skin in the process. When Ray had changed his bandages, bathed him, fed him, and protected him when it would've been easier to turn his back. Leonard still doesn't know why he did it. At the time, he'd had nothing to offer. Ray had more to lose than gain by helping him. He'd since come to realize that Ray himself didn't know why. Didn't have to.

Ray Palmer never needed a reason to save anyone.

Leonard couldn't say the same for himself. He didn't have that sort of kindness in him. Never would. Leave it to Barry and Ray to be the heroes. Leonard will protect what's his, but he's not about to bend over backwards for a stranger. It might seem hypocritical that he's doing what he is with that attitude, but it just so happens that Ray isn't a stranger anymore.

Poor schmuck.

He shifts his weight in Ray's lap to get the other side of his face. He'll remember every scar and freckle after this. He's carefully not to nick that perfectly carved cheekbone when he goes over it, as tempting as it is to leave a mark of his own. Maybe Ray would decide to leave before it's too late. Spare them all the agony.

The last line is clean and bloodless. He wipes Ray's face down with the cloth and leans back to admire his handiwork. It all looks good, but what really matters is how it feels. Leonard brushes his knuckles over Ray's jaw and is satisfied. Temporarily. ]

That's better. Now your outside matches your inside. Softer than a baby's ass.

[billionerd]

[ Ray shivers a little at Len's the touch, he's not even trying to cover for it at this point, it's obvious to both of them he's enjoying this. He assumes Leonard is having fun too, not just because of Ray's reactions but it looks like he genuinely enjoys this kind of work, takes pride in it. Ray gets that, sort of, and he admires it, it's a pretty good quality to have.

Ray lifts his own hand to rub at his jaw. It is a great shave, his skin hasn't felt like that since he first started growing a beard when he was in high school. ]

Best I've had. [ He smiles at Len, blushing again. It's hard not to with the keen awareness of the weight on his lap.

He pauses for a moment, going over Len's words again. ]

Wait. You think I'm soft?

[ There is more than one way to interpret that comment. Ray has not realized this yet. ]

[hypothermic]

[ Leonard's eyes flick over Ray's face with a smirk. Things aren't the same. He's just not sure if they're better or worse. ]

Well. Not after that shave.

[ He drops the razor into the rinsing bowl and gives Ray's cheek a rough pinch. He hadn't explicitly tried to torment Ray throughout the cut and shave. Ray does a better job torturing himself than Leonard ever could. He just likes to watch.

When he climbs out of Ray's lap and turns his back to stretch out, arms over his head and one leg out behind him, it's not to illicit a reaction. Couldn't see it if he did. He's just stiff and sore. It's been over an hour from start to finish. Leonard's in his forties. Whether he'll admit it or not, it's not the same game as when he was twenty or thirty. ]

Get lost, Raymond. I need a nap.

[billionerd]

[ He laughs once, too sharply. And stares as Leonard leaves his lap and turnes his back to him. Ray is dumbfounded, he has no idea of what to do with this, he's not even sure this is the kind of thing you do something with. ]

Yeah, okay. Thanks.

[ It's not a bad idea to get a minute or two to himself anyway, so he scurries out, trying not to think too hard about these sessions becoming a regular thing or about whether or ot he'd like it to. ]