It was the most open either of them had ever been with each other. The tragedy, of course, was that if either of them wee sent back from this place they wouldn't remember it. Mick because he was set to carry on living the rest of his life (by Len's design) and Len because, well. So far as he knew, there still wasn't much that came after death. Except for this place, oddly enough. With dinosaurs. And the opportunity to live out a version of a life he couldn't and never would have back home with Mick, or Barry, or anyone else that happened to show up.
It should have been depressing maybe, but Len was just oddly grateful for the opportunity to have thirty years of weight off of his chest (and probably his heart) when Mick opened up. Said the few simple words aloud that either of them had probably shown through gestures over the years.
He'd flinched, only marginally when Mick called him 'Snart' because it felt like a disconnect. Like Mick might be closing off again to save them both the strife. For once Len didn't want that, though. The easy way out was a route they'd taken way too many times, but fortunately he didn't have to say anything. Mick was pressing on all on his own and with more in his voice than Len was pretty sure he'd ever heard. Except for maybe that time on the Waverider where they were standing on opposite sides and Mick had pirates at his back. He'd felt betrayed then, but he understood the whole picture for them now. They'd both just been looking for ways to stick together, but their versions hadn't aligned. At least not until the very end.
He let out a breath he hadn't quite realized he'd been holding and then pushed himself away from the door to do something he probably should have done when Mick showed up. Len wrapped his arms around him and held tight, cradled the back of the other man's head and just pressed in close like they hadn't allowed each other to do in what felt like ages. Maybe had been, from Mick's perspective after his time at the Vanishing point.
"I love you too, Mick," he said it quietly, but with the steady kind of conviction he reserved only for the important things. "I'm sorry you never got to say it back home. I'm sorry I never did either. But you won't be alone. Not here, and not back home." He stopped there, for the moment, before too much emotion bled into his voice and set either one of them off. Right now it seemed more important to just let Mick know he was there, and real and not going anywhere.