Len knew immediately that only trouble could follow that smile. He just knew. He'd been watching Barry Allen long enough. Knew his expressions. Knew when he had him backed into a corner or (his favorite) tongue tied and frustrated. It wasn't that kind of smile. No false bravado. This one he wasn't used to but it reminded him just a little too much of the way she smiled just before she was ready to embarrass him in front of company. Usually not a smile he was fond of, and he really wasn't sure what to think of it on Barry Allen's face.
That bad feeling was confirmed when Barry opened his mouth. Of all the things he might have expected him to say, that horribly strung together (and yet perfect in such an awful way) pick up line was so far from the top of the list. Enough that he didn't actually say anything initially. The blank expression on his face? About the closest he usually came to surprise.
"I'm sorry," he cocked his head then, honestly still processing. "I must have misheard." Because for all the almost-flirting that he'd done in each of their little tête-à-têtes up to this point, Barry had never come even close to that kind of blatant reciprocation before.
"It sounded like you just offered to fuck me, Barry. With a cheesy pick up line. Are you tweleve? And that's a serious question. Because people like me can get arrested for conversations like this with kids."