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Detective Hot (to Trot)

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“How’s Detective Hot?” Iris asked Joe, playful amusement around her mouth even as her face portrayed casual sincerity.  She had the exact look on her face as the time she’d played Joe into allowing her to go to Cabo for spring break and footing half the bill.

Barry was immediately wary.  He looked at the front door with regret, because it was definitely too late to make a run for it. Joe's expression said 'don't even try' and Barry wasn't sure which one of them it was aimed at.

“Cold,” he corrected, because one of them had to jump on the verbal grenade Iris had set on the table, and Joe didn’t look like he was in the mood. “Though he’s always seemed kind of lukewarm to me.”

“That’s because you’ve never threatened him,” Joe answered and took a large bite of his casserole in deflection. It had been Barry’s night to cook and something crunched between Joe’s teeth.  Considering the meal was a rice and cream of mushroom soup special right out of a cookbook from the 50s, that didn’t bode well. Joe looked like he was regretting a lot of things, including raising two kids who were hopeless in the kitchen. 

“No. He’s definitely hot,” Iris answered, drawing out the word, and flicked up her eyebrows in meaning when Barry looked at her. “Do you know if he’s single?”

“Don’t.” Joe managed to sound completely done and they were only five minutes into supper. His gaze focused on Iris. “He’s not right for you. He’s a decade older than you are, has a reputation for being one cold son of a bitch, and if you think I’m going to let you date a cop, you have another thing coming.”

The warning klaxons that came with that sentence were almost audible as Iris dropped her fork on her plate and stared at her dad like she was about to show him the real meaning of being frosty.  "Excuse me?"

Or, in other words, the grenade exploded.  Shrapnel everywhere. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt pursuing someone uninterested in you,” Joe backpedaled. Last time, this was the point where he agreed it was probably better for Iris to do spring break with friends rather than backpack alone.

“What makes you think he’d be uninterested in me?” Iris demanded. 

“Because his type is more...” Joe floundered and then gestured vaguely. “Barry.”

Up to that point, Barry had been shoveling food into his face and trying not to get involved, but that? That was something.

“Me? Really?” Barry responded with far too much hopeful incredulity for stepping in on the middle of a fight, but dammit, in Barry’s experience he wasn’t anyone’s type. He didn’t even care about Iris’s moue of disappointment or the way Joe was pinching his nose like he had a headache. “What did you hear?”

“Nothing,” Joe answered in a firm tone. “I meant men in general. Don’t you think of it, either. I work next to the man.”

“And yet you’ve never noticed his firm butt and long legs,” Iris said casually, now clearly trolling as she picked up her phone and typed something into it. 

“And I’m never going to,” Joe said with a long suffering sigh like he knew he was going to accidentally think of this moment and take a look in the morning. 

Text from Iris: and those pants make him look like he has a dick

Barry: most men have dicks

Iris: you’ll see

And with one deft crook of her finger, Iris had ensured both of them would be accidentally looking at Detective Hot the next time they saw him. 




“Where are we with the analysis of the residue found on the Mathewson body?”

Barry jolted away from his computer so fast his chair flew back two feet and he stared at the Detective in surprise for three whole seconds. They started to feel like an eternity. Snart definitely looked like he always did when he came to the lab, which was mildly amused and slightly exasperated. 

Barry did his best to keep his eyes on the man’s face and away from his dick.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Detective...” and then to his horror, had to cut himself off from saying Hot. 

Dammit Iris. 

“Snart,” the Detective supplied, the corner of his mouth turning up a bit more. “It’s alright if you almost called me Cold.” He leaned in like he was telling a secret. “I encourage it, especially among the officers. It gives me a certain...”

“Actually, I almost said Hot,” Barry blurted out, to his everlasting horror. This one was going in his cringe bank to be brought out every time he considered all the embarrassing things he’d ever done in his life. “Not that I think you’re hot. Not that I DON’T,” he hastened to amend, making a gesture that said clearly. “Just something Iris said last night. You know Iris? Joe’s daughter.”

“I saw her yesterday,” Snart answered and looked bemused, like he also couldn’t believe the things Barry was blurting out. 


“She uh...” Barry awkwardly rubbed his fingers through the hair on the back of his head and wished the ground would open up and swallow him. Unfortunately, he was too far into the conversation to drop it at this point.  “She called you Detective Hot last night at family supper, which of course predetermined that the next time I saw you it would be the first thing I thought of, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m pretty awkward.”

“You don’t say,” Snart drawled, but definitely looked amused. “That explains why West gave me a look this morning like I pissed in his wheaties and if I did it again he’d show me the barrel of his gun.”

“It’s fine,” Barry told him in what he hoped was a reassuring tone but probably just sounded strangled. “He told her she wasn’t your type.”

“And what does Detective West know about my type?”

“Me.” Barry blurted out and then closed his eyes with a cringe because holy fuck could he not keep a secret. “I mean men.”

Snart looked at him thoughtfully, and then dragged his eyes quickly down in a look that could be explained away in a lingering blink. Could be. Could also be checking Barry out, which holy shit . “Guess the good Detective isn’t as interpersonally stunted as I thought.”

What did that mean? Was that a compliment?  “Uh,” Barry answered.

Snart paused, giving Barry the chance to put his foot in his mouth again.  When Barry clamped his jaw together, he sighed and continued. “So what about the Mathewson case?”

Barry frowned at the non-sequitur, having difficulty changing between ‘are we flirting?!’ to work in a moment.  “Uh,” he repeated, shuffling through the paperwork open on his computer. He’d known the answer the moment Snart had first asked, but couldn’t for the life of him remember it post whatever-that-convo-was.  “Corn syrup. Specifically the chemical make-up of Aunt Jemima’s Original syrup from the Midwest production facility. So, not particularly helpful considering almost everyone has at least one half-used bottle in their cupboards. I have two.”

Snart hummed, probably remembering how Barry had taken a sample and said ‘smells like corn syrup’ and he’d responded ‘smells like something you need to analyse anyway’.  “Alright.”

“Seems interesting,” Barry continued in a cryptic tone, “considering the diner she was found behind uses a generic brand.”

Snart smiled, sharp, to indicated he’d noticed that too.  In the list of things Barry liked about the man, he never really called Barry on being a know-it-all, either about things it was up to him to notice or things he should probably keep his mouth shut about. Of course, Barry hadn’t found anything yet that the Detective missed, but he also thought Snart probably wouldn’t feel threatened by it the way some of the other cops did.  “Did you get a sample?”

“When we were on site.  From the dumpster and from the diner itself. No match.”

Snart patted Barry on the shoulder, once, his hand barely applying pressure.  It was something most of the detectives did to say thanks, a habit he was sure originally came from Joe.  It seemed uneasy from Snart, who tended to keep a bubble of three feet around himself and everyone else.

“You’re welcome!” Barry called out behind him as Snart headed back out the door.

He turned and gave Barry a look that clearly said ‘for doing your job?’ and Barry laughed.






There was a list?


Oh fuck. There was a list. 




“I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t judge me,” Barry said, standing off to the side of the crime scene and cramming the last few bites of a bagel in his mouth. Snart seemed impatient and like there was no hope of that happening, but Barry was alone on this job forensically and it was a lot of work. “It’s mid-afternoon,” Barry continued, speaking around the food.  “This was my breakfast.”

“I caught this call just coming off the graveyard shift,” Snart said in a menacing tone, looking like he might knock the bagel out of Barry's hand.  For the first time since they were introduced, Barry understood why the man was called Cold.  “So I need you to finish your job without taking a personal moment so we can all go home.”

“A personal moment?” Barry echoed in a furious tone.  “It’s hot in there, smells like 3 week old death and bleach, and I didn’t see any officers stop by with coffee for me ,” he said, taking a pointed gulp of water.  “In fact, you’ve spent just as much time out here in the fresh air as the guy who puked in the bushes and was then relegated to maintaining the perimeter.”

“I’ve spent…” Snart sputtered in anger, and then made a sharp gesture in Barry's direction.  “I made one phone call, to the Chief.”

“And I need some air!” Barry yelled, and immediately deflated.  “I just need some air, ok? I’ve been in there for almost six hours, I needed fresh air and a snack.  I have headache that's either the fumes or the not eating and I don’t expect it to go away anytime soon.”

“Ok,” Snart agreed.

“I know in terms of reliability I’m perpetually late, but I wouldn’t just… lark off to the detriment of the case.”

“I didn’t imply you would.”

“No, just that you wanted to sleep, which is fair because you’re human, but these people weren’t exactly clean when they were alive and there’s a lot of shit to wade through, and I’m human too. If you wanted it done quickly, you should have let Morris process it.”

“I want it done accurately.”

Barry didn’t really have anything to say to that, so he pulled the second half of his bagel out of his bag and hoped Snart didn’t go apoplectic about it.  The man really did look exhausted, but Barry was also cranky and overworked, so Snart was going to have to deal.

“It’s why I requested you,” he admitted instead of storming off in anger or huffing in frustration.

Barry paused because that seemed like a big admission said in casual tones to make it seem less like a big thing. 

And, there were certain big things about Detective Snart that Barry wasn’t giving into looking directly at, thank you Iris. 

His emotions weren’t one of them. 

"Oh?" Barry was interested in where this conversation was going because it seemed almost nice.

"Morris couldn't find a shell casing if he was standing on it, let alone identify it at a glance."

"He should be able to," Barry pointed out in a rational tone, as if anything about this conversation made sense.  "That's so basic it's like saying that there's a Detective who doesn't know how to fill out an arrest report."

Snart didn't say a word, but he didn't have to.  His over-the-top sarcastic eye-roll said everything.

It said, Barry thought as he started to smile, more than even Snart meant it to.

“So really it’s your fault we're both still here,” Barry answered cheerfully, but pressed the bagel into Snart’s hands instead of eating it.  “Eat something before you take off Officer Puker’s head for not stopping Central News One from recording.”

“From not stopping…” Snart turned to look towards the street.  “Oh for fucksakes.”




The closest place to the precinct to get coffee wasn’t Jitters. Technically, every department had an ‘illegal’ coffeemaker somewhere, and each break room had a Keurig and a sanctioned coffeemaker. Once outside, there was a motorcar diner across the street, and a corner store down the block. 

Jitters, three blocks away, was the nearest place that served good coffee. Or, if it was your thing, fancy coffees. It was a little hard to get a caramel latte with extra espresso and cinnamon topping out of a communal fridge and a Folgers container. 

Whoever came up with the joke about cops and doughnuts didn’t take into account how doughnuts were just a handy device for soaking up a vat full of caffeinated and acidic liquid goodness. 

So, while Jitters was out of the way and not the easiest way to mainline coffee, it still did a steady business with cops. On his day off, Barry could sit down for an hour, visiting Iris and working on his blog, and see at least one person he knew, sometimes more depending on the shift changes. 

“I think we’re going to have to let the new girl go,” Iris said with an exasperated sigh, grimacing as she took a drink of her latte. She was trying to apologize for keeping him waiting for more than five minutes to take her lunch break, but he had been thinking of a way to word ‘turns out this unexplainable thing is totally explainable to people who don't think science is the devil's work’ without sounding like a jerk and hadn’t noticed the time. Iris sank down in the seat across from him and stole the sandwich on his plate, still frowning. “It’s been two weeks and she’s still burning milk.”

“You can burn milk?” Barry asked, not able to tell a difference with his drink, but then Iris regularly called him a coffee philistine. One of those illegal coffee makers belonged to Barry. He kept it next to the sink he cleaned out his beakers in because there was living dangerously and then there was living without caffeine while trying to deal with the officer who 'preserved' a sample in his hat. “Obviously, I get it from a thermodynamic perspective,” he cut her off before she could finish rolling her eyes at him. “I’ve burned enough food to know that. I meant that I thought your fancy machine had presets.”

“It does. She keeps selecting the wrong one. It’s especially bad for the milk alternatives.”

Barry made a face. 

“Speaking of milk alternatives…” Iris said in her smooth ‘let’s talk about flirting and boys’ voice and stared at the door behind Barry’s right shoulder. 

Oh boy. 

Barry looked over to see Detective Snart standing at the end of the line. He was wearing a zipped black jacket that showed off his trim figure, and his standard black suit pants definitely better fitted than 98% of the department’s. There was nothing to distract Barry from the thing he’d been avoiding all week. 

Barry looked

“It looks average, Iris!” He said, not disappointed but definitely disgruntled he’d been tricked into that. 

“What?” Iris asked and then proceeded to not get what he was talking about, which was the biggest gift he’d been handed all year. She seemed more concerned with looking Snart up and down like he was a mix between hot & DTF, and a romantic Prince Charming type hero.

Which was just… baffling. Detective Leonard Snart was neither of those things. Last week one of the Sergeants from Vice brought his daughter in selling Girl Guide cookies and Snart had sneered ‘gotta indoctrinate them into multi-level marketing schemes when they’re young’ before walking away. 

Barry thought he might be in love. 

“So you really like him?” he asked, because he’d witnessed a lot of things with Iris, but never her missing out on the punchline of Barry sticking his foot in his mouth, not after she made the effort to set it up in the first place. 

Or, Barry sticking his eyes places they shouldn’t wander.  Maybe if she hadn’t said ‘milk alternative’ and sent Barry’s brain to really awful places it wouldn’t have happened. He KNEW she meant the correlation between their conversation and Snart’s enjoyment of coconut milk lattes (or almond, depending on the day). Everyone knew that was why Snart treated himself to Jitters almost daily. Everyone. 

“I like looking at him,” she answered with a sigh. “But if he’s not into women, he’s not into women.  Before I found that out, I’d been harboring hope he was coming all this way to exchange a few words with me.”

Barry looked over at the Detective. Snart lifted his gaze away from his phone and saw both of them staring at him. He frowned. Barry gave him a weak smile. Snart’s frown deepened. 

Iris sighed again. “It sucks to be attracted to someone who you know won’t like you back.”

“Yeah,” Barry said with a forced smile that made him aware of his cheek muscles. It also sucked talking about crushes with that person, too, but Barry had long accepted that if he wasn’t willing to say ‘Iris the person I like is you’ to get the truth out and see what happened, then he didn’t get to be whiny about it. Fourteen had been a hard age. 

The best thing he’d ever done for his love life was go to a different college than Iris and get some perspective. The worst was coming home and falling back into old habits. 

“Though,” she continued, drawing out the word thoughtfully. “Nothing says he couldn’t like you back.”

Leonard Snart. Liking Barry Allen?

Barry felt that swoopy feeling in his gut that told him he and Iris were catapulting into a near future where they were both in unrequited crushland over the same person. 

“Don’t make that face. Go talk to him.”

“Why?” Barry asked. “I spoke to him yesterday.”  When Snart asked him to hold the elevator. And then pointedly looked at his watch like a total asshole because Barry was almost ten minutes early. 

“Are you going to let him spend $5 on a coffee made by someone who can’t press a button labeled ‘not milk’?”

“Yes.” No he wasn’t. Damn his hero complex. Iris looked smug when Barry got to his feet and looked at Snart, only halfway through the line by this point. How long was this damn line anyway?

Snart saw him coming over and didn’t turn around to walk away, which would be just like him, the dramatic bitch. 

“Detective,” Barry said with a wide smile, thinking about how the last time he’d been at a crime scene, one of the officers had handed him coffee. Snart hadn’t even been there, and neither had Joe. Barry still didn’t know how he pulled it off, unless he’d done something to strike terror into the hearts of each of the uniforms.  Barry had never been a Grinch about his heart, but it had grown three sizes in response. Barry was probably too far gone already, which meant he'd spend the next six months flailing every time he heard the man's voice.

“Allen,” Snart said with a curt nod, taking one of the earbuds out of his ears. 

Barry wanted to ask what he was listening to, but unless Snart had a secret dorky side, it was probably a generic audiobook or CNN, like almost everyone else who worked with Joe. He didn’t really need his illusions that Snart was effortlessly cool shattered like that. 

“Did you need something?” Snart asked, and despite the way his tone always sounded a bit derisive, he unhooked the second earbud and let them dangle from the front of his jacket, giving Barry his full attention. 

“Not really?” Barry answered. “I’m here to do you a favor.”

Snart raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Iris says the new girl burns the almond milk and I know that’s the reason you go three blocks out of your way for coffee, so…”

“So you left your table to come all the way over here to warn me about a drink I get every day before work?”

“I’m about 13 days too late, huh?  I figured Iris has been making your drinks.”

“Iris usually takes her break at this time.”

Barry looked at him and frowned at the way that was worded.  Then it clicked and he almost laughed in Snart's face. “Are you avoiding Iris?”

Anyone who thought Detective Snart was cold or unemotional had never seen him called out for avoiding his partner’s daughter. 

“Wow.” Barry said, delighted. He looked over and met Iris’s eyes to see that she was staring at him. 

Snart followed his gaze and his expression sharpened. “What were the two of you talking about before you wandered your way over here?” Snart asked with the general bearing of someone who knew exactly what they were talking about. He was misdirecting attention away from Barry’s question and Barry was going to let it happen. 

Barry battered down his embarrassment and leaned closer like he was telling Snart a secret. If he allowed awkwardness to hold him back in life he’d never get laid. “Boys.”

“Boys?” Snart asked, still maintaining the same distance between them. “Or men?”

“Well when you’re gossiping with your best friend slash sister figure then the term is always ‘boys’,” Barry countered, looking at Snart from beneath his eyelashes. 

Which yep, that was his flirty look. At least he was self aware enough to know that. 

“Even,” Barry continued, “if who you’re talking about is undisputedly an adult man.” Then he kinda just dragged his eyes down Snart’s chest in a glance that would be so smooth if he’d planned it.

“An adult man, kid? Is that what you’re going with? You sound like you’ve never seen one before.”  

Snart was definitely laughing at him and not only on the inside.

And that ended Barry’s smoothness.  “Alright, you know what? I’m tapping out on this convo.  Enjoy your hot nut juice.”

And yeah. Barry juuuust heard the innuendo in that. 

Snart snorted and then immediately forced his expression back into impassivity. There was still a vague smirk hovering on his lips when Barry looked back to check. 

“W o w.” Iris gave him a look of judgement that was almost tempered by her surprise. “Were you ever going to tell me that Detective Hot wants to bone you?”

“He doesn’t want to bone me!” Barry said, a little too loudly considering the man was still somewhere behind him. 

“You want to bone him,” she observed in a smug tone. 

“Please stop saying bone.” He knew it was no use appealing to Iris’s better nature. The only reason she wasn’t being cruder was because she was at work.

“Let’s look at the evidence,” she said. “One: you walked up to him and he paid attention to you. I have literally watched him turn the sound up on his phone to drown out someone trying to make conversation with him.”

“Yeah but he knows me.”

“Two: he just laughed at your horrible joke.”

Barry was not telling her about the accidental innuendo. She’d probably think that made for more solid evidence.  “He does laugh sometimes.”

“That’s the first time I’ve seen him laugh. In fact,” she picked up her phone. “I’m asking dad if he’s ever seen Hot laugh.”

“It was hardly a laugh.”

“He laughed. Three: he willingly touched you.”


“Just now.”

“He did not!”

“He put his hand on your elbow to guide you out of the way of someone balancing a drink tray!”

“That’s not…” something Barry had noticed.  Holy shit. 

“Four, don’t think I didn’t notice the mutual,” and then she gestured at Barry’s face. “Flirting or whatever that was.”

“You know what it was.” Barry crossed his arms and felt cranky about it. Mostly because he’d forgotten Iris was watching and that was typically a mistake she would make him live to regret by interfering and then teasing him in front of Joe. 

“We ALL know what that was,” she told him, glancing down at her phone. “You need to go for it.”

“I definitely don’t.”

“Only if you want to. But you should.”


“Yeah, it’ll be nice not to be the one who gives dad aneurysm face.  Plus, the man looks like he knows how to use his hands.”

Barry wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure you’re not…”

“Don’t finish that sentence. We’re 25. You can’t call dibs on a person . Also, dad says the last time he saw Detective Hot laugh was when a suspect shot himself in the foot and couldn’t flee.”  

“Yeah,” Barry agreed. “That was funny. Makes a good case for gun safety laws.”

“Gun safety should be making a good case for gun safety laws, but people are morons.”




Iris kept sending Barry the gif of Captain Holt yelling BOOOOONNNNEEEEE from his office door like a best friend slash sister figure should.



boooonnnnneee gif

Iris: oh my god you looked! 

Iris: AVERAGE? What kind of dicks have you been bouncing on

Iris: don't answer that.




When Barry had moved back to Central after college with his freshly printed diploma, a job offer from a DNA lab, and a prospective interview to do his dream job with the CCPD, he’d felt on top of the world and like his life was finally starting. It was like he’d been biding his time for years, leveling up his life skills to get to the point of entering the workforce, and had finally made it.

Well, working sucked and was designed to suck .  No one told him how much it sucked.

Ok, so a few people had warned him how much it sucked, but he assumed that meant for other people.

It had nothing to do with whether he got personal fulfillment from his job (he did) or whether he had hobbies (he had too many, if anything). 

It was that Barry didn’t know how to do anything but give himself over to his job 100%. He stayed late, answered calls even during times he wasn’t on call, and didn’t know how to cut corners so the process took him half the time. 

He was quickly getting a reputation for it. 

He was pretty sure it was that asshole Detective Snart's fault, because if Snart thought you were good at your job then you were probably the best on the planet, and Barry wasn't sure he was old enough for the responsibility of being the best CSI on the planet.

So he sighed when his phone rang at 8:00 pm on a Friday night instead of going to Morris.

“What would you say if I told you I’m taking the night off with a hot date?” Barry said reflexively into his phone, not even bothering to pause The Good Place. The number had been Joe’s so he wasn't concerned about sounding professional or not.  Joe saw him as a kid either way. 

“To not answer your phone,” Detective Snart replied, making Barry sit up from his sprawl across the couch. 

“What’s wrong? Is Joe hurt?”

“No, he just shoved the phone into my hand while it was ringing because the witness was looking for him personally.” Snart somehow infused the word personally with so much context that Barry now knew the witness was an attractive woman. “Are you available?”

“For you?” Barry asked like it wasn’t even a question, because that was true. Snart was starting to insist on working with Barry when he had the option, and Barry wasn’t under any illusions that Snart was the kind of guy who was in it for the view. Snart liked Barry’s work, which made the whole thing a lot more flattering than if he just liked watching Barry’s ass. “Almost always.”

“Despite your hot date?”

“I think it’s too late to cancel the order,” Barry said, debating whether it was smarter to wait or see if his neighbor could cover for him. Then, like almost every conversation he’d had with Snart recently, he heard the double entendre. “Because it’s a pizza. The hot date.”

“No, really? I did earn a detective’s badge based on my reasoning skills, you know. I’m sending one of the uniforms to get you. Be here in 30.”

“If I’m being picked up then the timing is out of my hands now.”

“Exactly, which means you might be on time. I swear to god if you wait for your pizza to arrive…”

“On my night off,” Barry interjected smoothly, grinning so widely his reflection startled him. “I’ll be sure to bring you a slice.”

“You better.”




Pizza delivery arrived while Barry was still changing, and as awkward as it was opening the door in his boxers, it beat the alternative of sharing his pizza with the officers picking him up, Snart, Joe, and whoever else got their greedy hands on it. 

He didn’t take into account how guilty he’d feel over Snart seeing his go-kit in one hand and then casually glancing towards the other like he expected a pizza box. 

Oh no, felt bad man.

“At least you’re on time,” he said, “come with me.”

Barry started following him across the lobby of the bank, pausing when he caught sight of Joe looking cornered and harangued. He got out his phone immediately and sent a Snap to Iris. 

“By your leave,” Snart gestured in a sarcastic tone for Barry to continue following him. “Sure, leak a picture of a crime scene to your sister. We have all night.”

“As if I didn’t witness you FaceTiming Lisa that time Officer Cortez brought in a bunch of male strippers for a line up and a fight broke out.”

“You were also there watching,” Snart pointed out, walking at a rapid clip down the hallway towards the back. 

“It was a good view,” Barry shrugged.  Just like the one he had now.



“The fight or the strippers?”

“The ridiculousness of the whole thing,” Barry answered and then, THEN, realized exactly what Snart was asking. “But the answer to your question is yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Barry rolled his eyes because Snart may be feigning confusion but he was looking at Barry a bit too intently to be casual. “Yes, I’m into men.”

“You don’t come across as straight, Allen. It was more surprising finding out you’re into women.”

“That…” should Barry be offended? Wait. “Then why did you want confirmation?”

Snart looked like he was making a rather valiant attempt of swallowing his own tongue rather than answering that question. 

Oh wow. Because Snart felt like he had a personal stake in the confirming the answer. “You know, I still have a pizza waiting for me at home if you want to share?”

“I recall being promised a share in that pizza already.”

"Only a slice, but I'm willing to give you the whole damn thing if you think you can handle it?"

"Allen," he answered, shaking his head, but a small smile was hovering on Snart's lips and it didn't look sarcastic at all.  There were police personnel hurrying back and forth along the hallway, making this an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation, and the two of them were on pause, looking at each other.

“Later, then?” Barry asked, grinning and aware he wasn’t going to STOP grinning for hours. 

“It’s a date.”